#idk like i was enjoying it a lot but like...

[qqueenofhades]

Gotta say, it's heartening to see just how terrible a time these GOP chucklefucks are having. This administration and its cronies are even MORE disastrously incompetent than last time, and that's saying something. Yeah, the next several years are still gonna suck, but at least we can laugh at these shit-for-brains assholes continuing to run head-first into the brick wall of their own incompetence. And perhaps even prevent the worst outcomes.

Honestly, the biggest fear for everyone was that giving the fascists four more years to plan and actually write down all of Project 2025 would mean that they were focused, competent, stone cold driven, ready to actually work to change things for real, and otherwise buckle down and be -- well, if not something approaching competent, at least effective. Or the fear that the American public, being fickle and underinformed at the best of times, would just sit back and let them do it. Because, yknow. Half this godforsaken country did just somehow shrug and vote for the orange monster again, so.

But that said, as I pointed out earlier today, it IS fucking heartening to see that they're the same mean, stupid, chaotic shitbags as ever, they really decided to go for the shock-and-awe LOL WATCH US BLOW EVERYTHING UP!!! approach that has gotten them nothing except turbo-sued and enraged the entire country, they basically united the entire world against Russia and for Ukraine in literally ten minutes yesterday (hope you enjoyed that little clown show, Vladimir!) and furthermore, nobody is afraid of them, which is death to fascists. I often point out that fascists desperately want people to be afraid of them and think they're cool, competent, unstoppable, and suave. They also especially, incredibly, desperately hate being laughed at and mocked. They can't stand it.

As such, the fact that they're just the same as ever except worse, and are not magically more competent (in fact, much worse) and are their own worst enemies, does in fact bode well for our ultimate ability to get through this. They will break shit, they will needlessly alienate friends and allies, they will torment every vulnerable group they can just to be dicks, and all of this was just so avoidable... but. Nobody likes them for it, even the people who deluded themselves into voting for them. They're scared little chickenshits who are having a bad bad time that will only get worse, especially if they actually try to cut Social Security and Medicaid, which is basically the death knell of stupid things to do in American politics. Because they just can't help themselves, but this is really, REALLY not going to work out well for them. It just won't.

As such, when they're already running from the heat ONE MONTH into the Glorious Eternal Rule of King Donald, like the little pissbabies they are, it tells me that there is literally no way they're gonna manage four years of this. They just aren't (and Deo volente Trump will finally have an aneurysm and die facedown in a Big Mac before 2028). To say the least, the 2026 midterms are gonna be interesting, especially if the GOP keeps digging their own grave, and yes.

As I keep saying: things are bad. They will get worse. But these miserable jabronies are just as pathetic and beatable as they have ever been, they did not suddenly get magically competent at being pointlessly evil, the country is showing out with a spirited will to make them suffer immensely for every braindead numbnuts piece of Nazi performative cruelty they attempt and often fail, and in these dark times, every day that we can fight back matters a lot. It’s working and we have gotta keep doing it. Idk about you, but I feel energized by seeing it. So yeah, say it with me:

STAY! STRONG! AND! KEEP! THEM! SCARED!

The end.

[ryuucam]

HANDS OFF !

˓𓄹 ࣪˖ what’s their favorite part of your body? multi-fandom scenario

contains nsfw (duh), oral (both receiving and giving), handjobs, boobjobs/paizuri, marking (a disgusting amount tbf), lots of spit, nipple play, breeding, bondage (m! receiving YES!!!) sub!character but idk if anyone minds actually, ass slapping + ass play, last part is shorter bc i had no more ideas ..

notes writers block is so real u guys .. also i just spent 20€ on hsr somebody sedate me!!!! please!!!! (gallagher and sunday are almost in all of those i need a lobotomy)

he likes your HANDS, likes the way they’re smaller and softer than his. loves when you run them through his hair, even when you pinch his cheeks (even if they end up red and swollen after).

he’s the type of person that loves holding your hand during sex. it doesn’t matter if he’s being rough, or if it’s just gentle lovemaking, you best believe your hand is getting held tightly by his. it’s comforting, grounding, it shows you that he’s here, no matter what, and you can trust him to take care of you. when his hands are busy doing other things (such as keeping your legs open or restraining you from squirming so much), he likes having your hands holding onto his shoulders, or cupping his face, anything’s fine as long as you keep touching him.

handjobs are his guilty pleasure. sure, they may be nothing over the top, but he thinks there’s nothing as arousing as having your small hand (or hands) wrapped around his cock, doing your best to bob them up and down, even if the amount of precum he’s leaking makes everything so sticky and wet. he just sits back, enamored with the little huffs and puffs you let out every once in a while, struggling to grab his whole cock. but that’s what makes you so charming to him, how cute you look when you’re so intent on nursing on his dick, how you whine at him to just help you out. he’s not a mean man, but just this once he’ll just sit in silence watching you.

kaeya, ayato, alhaitham, kaveh, neuvillette, lyney, childe, kinich (genshin impact) welt, sampo, luocha, jiaoqiu, aventurine, gallagher, phainon, anaxa (honkai star rail) chigiri, kunigami, nagi, itoshi sae, kaiser (blue lock) byakuya, nagito, kokichi, rantaro (danganronpa) mikey (lazy ass), chifuyu, ran (lazy ass n2), nahoya “angry”, kokonoi (tokyo revengers) dazai, ranpo, fukuzawa, tachihara, odasaku, jouno, nikolai (bungou stray dogs) deku, aizawa, sero, mirio, dabi (my hero academia) hinata, oikawa, iwaizumi, matsukawa, semi, kenma, yaku, akaashi, suna (haikyuu) whitney, syndey, wren, brian (degrees of lewdity) gojo, shiu, nanami, sukuna (jujutsu kaisen)

he likes your THIGHS, and likes napping on them even more. regardless of how much he likes to laze around, the soft skin always lulls him into a deep sleep. and when he’s not sleeping, he’s tracing countless patterns on them as he talks about his day - or listens to yours. he bites you sometimes, then licks and kisses the skin better. call him a freak, but he’d die for your thighs, no questions asked.

have you guys ever seen those memes that are like “i’d be happy to die crushed by my gf’s thighs”? that’s him. point blank. he spends hours and hours between your legs, overstimulating you to the point of tears, and the more you cry and try to close your legs the more he enjoys it and keeps going. he starts by kissing your legs, inching closer and closer to your core, leaving numerous hickeys and bite marks all over your inner thighs. when he starts sucking and licking your clit, his hands squeeze the fat of your thighs, further bruising the flesh. you can’t even get mad at him, really, because the massages and creams and who-knows-what he gives you during aftercare makes up for it.

when you’re not feeling like having full on sex, you both agreed on letting him fuck your thighs. it’s a win-win, really, since he gets off and you can lay down and rest (as much as you can while having your boyfriend rutting in your legs from the back, to be fair). the slick coats your skin, making it easy for his cock to slide in and out of your thighs. his tip peeks out from the front, red and throbbing while he overstimulates himself. he groans in your ears, about how “you feel so fuckin’ good, sweetheart, you’re such a doll for letting me fuck you like this”. well, you can’t really resist him when he’s like this, so when his cock doesn’t go down after the nth orgasm he’s had, you just tell him to fuck you properly. he can’t wait.

diluc, albedo, xiao, gaming, zhongli, kazuha, thoma, wanderer, pantalone, childe (genshin impact) caelus, dan heng, dr ratio, moze (honkai star rail) isagi, bachira, rin, sendou (blue lock) makoto, kiyotaka, gundham, hajime, shuichi (danganronpa) mikey, kazutora, inui, mitsuya, souya “angry” (tokyo revengers) atsushi, tanizaki, chuuya, tecchou, sigma, mark twain, poe (bungou stray dogs) kaminari, tokoyami, shinsou, monoma, tamaki, hawks (my hero academia) kageyama, yamaguchi, hanamaki, sugawara, goshiki, fukunaga, bokuto, atsumu (haikyuu) kylar, robin, doren, mason, alex (degrees of lewdity) choso, ino, gojo, geto (jujutsu kaisen)

he likes your BOOBS. a worrying amount, actually. he feels like a teenage boy all over again, but he can’t help the way his eyes always drop down to your cleavage (regardless of the shirt you’re wearing, or lack of thereof). his hands are always grabbing your chest, squeezing the fat like they’re stress balls, and he won’t stop unless you whine enough or he’s satisfied (very unlikely). he could spend his whole life tugging and circling on your nipples, sucking on them, biting your tits, anything, really. and obviously your boobs end up swollen, bruised and overstimulated, but can you really be mad at him, though, when he looks at you like a kicked puppy?

a while ago, one of his friends showed him a video of this dude fucking his girlfriend’s tits, and the thought hasn’t left his head ever since. not to say he doesn’t like your pussy, or mouth, but there’s just something so lewd, so messed up about sliding his cock in and out of your boobs. he’s lucky to be dating a cutie like you, honestly, since you let him do just that. he’s a freak, he knows it, but your tits are just so soft, so warm and tight and wet that his dick slides against them so well. sometimes you’re sweet enough to take his tip into your mouth, licking and suckling on it, spreading precum all over your lips. he’s a meanie, though, cumming all over your tits and face. other times, he just rubs his cock all over your chest, pace quickening against your nipples. and no matter how many times he cums, his dick always gets hard again when he sees your doe eyes and pretty tits. be patient with him, yeah?

having you ride him is definitely one of his favorite positions, since it’s a win-win for both of you: you’re taking all of his cock (or at least, you try to), and he has your tits bouncing right in his face. yeah, having you twitch and squirt all over is length is nice (well, more than just nice, but you get my point), but he’s so mesmerized by your boobs. as stated above, he’s no better than a teenage boy, and just a handful of tits is enough to get him going and cumming deep inside you. sometimes he grabs your chest, sucks on your nipples hard enough to bruise them, but when you get sick of all the marks and spit, your best bet is to just tie his hands up. all he can do is whine, “c’mon baby, don’t be so mean. just wanna touch you” and “you’re bein’ so mean to me, i’ll be good, yeah?”, but you know him well enough to know they’re all lies. well, all the more reason to take control for once, no? he does deserve a little punishment every once in a while.

venti, kazuha, ayato, ororon, wriothesley, capitano, dainsleif (genshin impact) caelus, luka, gepard, jing yuan, boothill, moze, blade, gallagher, sunday, mydei, phainon (honkai star rail) isagi, aiku, reo, ness, nagi, rin itoshi, sendou (blue lock) mondo, nagito, kazuichi, korekiyo, kokichi (danganronpa) baji, kazutora, ran, shinichiro, izana, inui, hakkai, draken (tokyo revengers) dazai, ranpo, akutagawa, chuuya, fyodor, nikolai, jouno (bungou stray dogs) deku, shoji, bakugo, todoroki, sero, tamaki, monoma, shigaraki (my hero academia) kuroo, fukunaga, kageyama, tsukishima, osamu, kita, bokuto, sakusa, iwaizumi (haikyuu) kylar, robin, eden, sydney (degrees of lewdity) toji, gojo, higuruma, choso (jujutsu kaisen)

he likes your ASS. it’s a classic: who doesn’t? he likes laying his head on it, likes groping it when you’re wearing short, or skirts, or… never mind, he’s always touching it. whistles when you walk by, slaps it when he passes by you. call him childish but he could care less.

most of the time, he’s fucking you from behind, just so he can see the fat of your ass recoil and bounce when it hits his pelvis. he’s so rough, but he just can’t stop when you’re wrapped so tightly around him, not when the room is filled with the squelching sounds of your cunny. when you whine too much, he just slaps your ass, leaving big, red handprints on it, but he knows you don’t mind it. you won’t mind if he sticks his thumb inside your puckered hole, right? he doesn’t care about that “embarrassing” nonsense you keep on blabbering about, just let him take care of you. you seem to cum harder when he’s playing with your hole, anyways.

kaeya, dottore, tighnari, alhaitham, itto, zhongli, pantalone, childe (genshin impact) sampo, jing yuan, gallagher, mr reca, mydei, boothill, anaxa (honkai star rail) leon, gundham, kaito, k1bo (danganronpa) sae (canon), aiku, kunigami, barou (blue lock) baji, nahoya “angry”, draken, rindou, kakucho, mitsuya (tokyo revengers) kunikida, tachihara, jouno, mark twain (bungou stray dogs) bakugo, kirishima, aizawa, mirio, overhaul (my hero academia) bokuto, ushijima, hinata, yaku (haikyuu) bailey, sirris, mason, wren (degrees of lewdity) geto, shiu, gojo (jujutsu kaisen)

[apatheticsunday]

Dead Tired College AU

AKA "Danny Fenton and Tim Drake go to college at Gotham-U together" headcanon!!

Maybe Danny moved to Gotham to avoid his parents finding out about Phantom and Tim is a part-time college student trying to get his business degree so people stop accusing Bruce Wayne of nepotism after Tim inherited WE. (It absolutely still is, but at least this way Tim is at least somewhat more qualified on paper.)

Anyways, they both took Anthropology as their humanities/pre-requisite elective and they're discussing death rituals, afterlife, etc. Now imagine Danny, officially Half-Dead, and Tim, who's brothers (Jason and Damian) literally died, getting into a heated discussion about spirits.

I also find the idea of them arguing via fucking Canvas (or whatever discussion forum/platform Gotham-U uses) so, so funny.

Imagine it's like 3am;

Danny, insomniac, been awake for 42 hours and popping melatonin gummies like gummy bears, furiously typing: i'm literally THE KING of infinite realms?? i know what i'm talking about, i fucking died

Tim, also been awake for 42 hours, chugging an energy drink, sending a response in 0.2 seconds: Half of Gotham has died at some point. You're not special, dumbass.

Give me "group of scientists losing their minds and climbing over the table to assault one another during scientific conference" vibes!!

And then they get paired up to do a group presentation (and Brad, who they ignore because they're both Experts, so this poor frat dude just slowly sinks into his chair between two sleep-deprived maniacs screaming at each other in the library). But Tim notices something weird about Danny, aside from his insane views on afterlife. Danny... glows? And sometimes doesn't really touch the floor when he walks. They're going to get coffee (so they can keep arguing debating, obviously, not because they enjoy each other's company or anything), and Tim watches as Danny just kind of... floats. Like, he's still walking but he's not really touching the ground.

Danny's hands are also super cold. Tim knows this because he grabbed Danny's hands once or twice (or more) to do... something, idk. But since his hands were so cold, Tim figured he should probably keep holding them; y'know, to warm them up.

And when Tim leans in to ask a question or insult him, Danny's breath comes out almost like a mist. Visibly white, like exhaling a hot breath in winter. Which... what. Holy shit, is his presentation partner actually sort of dead??

Danny, on the other hand, has no idea that Tim doesn't know. He literally said he died? And Tim took it so well, snarked back that he's not special - it was so nice to just feel normal. So he lets his guard down a bit. Maybe isn't as tangible, maybe is a bit more floaty, lets his body temperature drop enough to be comfortable. Doesn't put a whole lot of effort into making himself look so alive (because it's really tiring to pretend to be something you're not) when it's just him and Tim because Tim already knows, right?

They could be friends or they could be more! Whatever floats your boat.

But I could totally see Danny squinting at Tim holding his hand, remembering how Tim bought his favorite coffee, saved him a spot a the library, constantly texted him (because, c'mon, Tim is a bit obsessive and you don't think he'd be texting his new "friend ;)" every minute he has the chance?), and always leaned in super close to "ask a question"...and be like, are we flirting?? Oh, Hells, am I into him??

For plot reasons, Danny could be like, "I can't tell Tim I like him! What if I ruin our friendship? It'll be my secret."

And then, one day, Tim is like, "Hey, I know you're keeping something from me. I think I know what it is." And Danny's like ohshitohfuck. This cumulates into them saying, at the same time, I know you're a ghost and I have a crush on you.

Tim and Danny: *shocked Pikachu face*

Then, Danny's like, "I can't believe I have a crush on a fucking idiot."

[theliliesofthevalleies]

The skeletons wordlessly point around the room as if the reasoning should be obvious. Obviously he had been put in the summoning circle.

Danny puts a hand over his mouth and closes his eyes in contemplation for a moment. He takes in a long deep breath and looks at the skeletons. “And.. no one thought to.. I don’t know.. alert me to the fact that there is a whole living person in the offerings room..?”

All the skeleton’s just shrug and go back to pampering the now stunned and speechless Robin who is staring up at Danny from where he’s seated on the floor. “You’re a lot younger than I thought you’d be. Honestly that’s a relief. I was worried I was being offered as a bride to the ghost king that was going to be like.. old and gross..”

“You were offered as what?! You’re fourteen?!” Danny stares at the teenager no older than himself and crouches down. “What do you mean as a bride for me? Why would they even assume I wanted a child bride…?”

Robin, now removing his mask because, fuck it why not if he’s stuck there might as well, shrugs as he looks back up at Danny now showing him that he is in fact Tim Drake. “Don’t know.. don’t really care. I would however like to get home. My.. adopted father and his other adopted adult child are probably looking for me and considering that the last time a Robin went missing he was murdered.. they are probably losing their minds..”

“Right right.. uh.. well.. I have to ask Clockwork about how to send you back.. because the Infinite Realms sort of identifies you as.. my property now.. and the fact that you are technically dead..” Danny looks like he’s ready to hurl from the thought but he straightens up.

Tim looks up at him with wide eyes and blinks a few times. “I’m dead..?” He pat his own chest and looked at himself all over.

“Only technically.. you were given as an offering.. the only way to send a living being to the Infinite Realms is to kill them.. or half kill them.” Danny thinks for a moment. “Honestly when we get you back. You may only have a half life.. you may be a Halfa now..” He shrugs and starts leaving the room. “Come on. I’m not going to force you to stay locked in here. Though.. m aybe put your mask back on. Some of the residents of the Infinite Realms still like to keep your identities a secret for themselves..”

Tim stands and places his mask back on his face trying ti ignore the reeling in his head from finding out he had apparently died. “So. You already knew who I was..?”

Danny with a dejected look and tears welling up in his eyes. “No.. I was one of the residents that enjoyed keeping your identity a secret. But it’s okay.. you just proved my theory so…”

Tim nods. “Right.. sorry about that..”

They make their way to Clockwork and find out it will take a while to send Tim back home. In the meantime Danny and Tim spend a lot of time together getting to know each other. Danny brings Tim a change of clothes when he comes back from school one day.

By the time they manage to navigate the stupid rules of the Infinite Realms two months later Tim is on the verge of his fifteenth birthday and has realized feelings are starting to bloom in his chest when he sees Danny. They agree to stay in contact and when Tim is dropped off on the day of his fifteenth birthday he leans over and kisses Danny’s cheek before running off to find Bruce and Dick who, as he predicted had in fact lost their minds.

It takes a lot of explaining to get them to calm down and understand that he A.) didn’t run away and get murdered. B.) didn’t die at all. Which Tim knows is a lie but he doesn’t want Bruce and Dick to freak out about him dying. And C.) is very much alive despite the blood loss of cult members trying to sacrifice him to what is essentially a god.

(Idk if op wanted this to turn into ship but I’ve been reading a lot of DannyxTim fics lately and that’s where my brain went. Lol.)

Bonus. When Jason comes back as Red Hood Tim can tell because Jason has a similar aura to Danny. Danny comes to visit and when he sees Jason he tells Tim that Jason has corrupted ectoplasm and he’s not sure how but his core is shattered. Danny and Tim set out to help Jason and they manage to clean his ectoplasm before Jason can bring his who reveal and revenge plan to fruition.

Once his ectoplasm is clean and Danny got his core into mostly one piece Jason all but loses interest in his big dramatic revenge plot so Tim brings him to the manor one day and Bruce freaks out.

Danny and Tim explain to Bruce what was up and that now that his ectoplasm is clean and his core is mostly whole now would be the best time to talk to Jason about all the things Jason is angry about.

(Side note I really like the idea that Danny helps Jason right after the first time he meets him and it freaks Jason out because, why the hell is the replacement and his boyfriend randomly finding him and why is the replacement’s boyfriend shoving his hands in his chest. It sort of freaks him out. But it helps the Pit rage so he honestly lets it happen.)

DPxDC Prompt #17

There is a room Danny's Keep he set up shortly after defeating Pariah Dark. It became necessary when the broader magical community realized Pariah had be defeated and therefore a new King took his throne. Danny found himself briefly bombarded with waves of attempted summonings.

Which, the summonings themselves, wouldn't have been so bad. Turns out people can't just drag the King of Ghosts to themselves on a whim. Danny has to actively accept a summoning to get pulled to it. And if he just decides "No," the pull and whispers go away. No problem there.

No, the problem is the offerings. And sacrifices. The things that people put in the circle as payment for even attempting to summon him. Like having to put a quarter in the payphone just to listen to it ring and ring and ring as the person on the other end of the call doesn't pick up. Since the summoning magic regarded these things as belonging to Danny even if he rejected the summons, they usually ended up just materializing in front of him if he didn't go to them.

Which, okay. It was funny that time he got to end a fight with Vlad very fast when a whole gold bar materialized and dropped on his head. And the food was nice sometimes when it was late and everywhere was closed and his parents had left samples in the fridge to contaminate everything into animation again. But the goat head dropping from the ceiling onto his desk during on of Lancer's English tests was not appreciated. Even if it did get the test rescheduled and the whole school shut down for a few days to investigate the "potentially satanic activity."

So, yeah, it was a bit of a problem. Fortunately, it was a problem with a relatively simple solution. Danny set up an inbox. With a bit of help from Tucker and Pandora, and a couple tips from Clockwork; all summoning offerings and sacrifices would now go straight to the dedicated room in the Keep.

And! As a special touch, the summoners would also get a chipper, automated voice saying, "The Ghost King you are trying to summon has more important things to do than answer you right now. Please leave a message in the circle with your name, date, location, contact information, and reason for summoning. The Ghost King will get back to you at his earliest convenience." Sam's stupid fancy girl gala voice had been perfect for that little message.

It was the perfect solution. Danny no longer had to deal with randomly materializing offerings putting his secret identity at risk. Pariah's skeletons, who had been antsy for something to do now that they were no longer bent under the thumb of a cruel tyrant, were instructed to take care of all the offerings; making sure everything was always cleaned up and put away. And all Danny had to do was stop by periodically to check in and "Officially respond" -ie, write a fuck off note- to the summoning messages (Clockwork's insistence).

A perfect solution. Up until Danny checked in one day to find the skellies pampering a whole ass boy. No. Not just any boy. Danny recognizes that costume.

"Why is Robin here?"

[lila-dalilah]

Been thinking bout writing a fic with modern Sevika. She was a petty drug dealer, involved in a lots of shady stuff. After doing some time in jail, she moves in with reader’s mother because she wants to leave things behind and start fresh in another country. Reader is interested in her immediately cause just look at her. And there’s like a lot of push and pull cause of the age gap (everyone is of age of course) and how inappropriate it feels for Sev. Lots of heavy flirting on readers part and eventually sneaking around to get down to business. Idk idk, just felt like the setting is promising (?. I just don’t know if anyone would actually read it/enjoy it… Let me know !

Edit: I already uploaded the first part!

[squidwithamelon]

Nightmare doesn't really need to eat? Whole embodiment thing and all. But that doesn't mean he doesn't eat. He does! He eats a whole lot, actually.

He's what people would call a 'glutton' and what I would call 'a fellow american'.

Just because he doesn't have to eat doesn't mean he doesn't enjoy eating. He enjoys eating a lot, actually.

And it's the same issue, where he tries to force himself to enjoy fine-dining and! While he doesn't hate it unlike say golfing, he doesn't really. . Enjoy it?

He thinks it's too full of itself, oh this dish represents the state of the ocean, Okay??

Who the fuck cares???

It's very pretentious.

But what he really likes?

Sandwiches he'd have as a child, ham, cheese, pb & j. Hot coco brought back with his brother and shared with him.

He loves any food that reminds him of his childhood. It brings a level of comfort to him.

And that's simply because when he thinks of his childhood he thinks of the 'event'.

But when he eats certain foods he's brought back to before all of that happened, before he was thrusted into maturity and negativity.

Back when it was just him and Dream.

But back to him being a fat-ass, he WILL eat a whole table's worth of food in one sitting, like DEVOUR it all! Somehow in a very polite but also very creepy manner.

Like dog?? How are you eating that much and that fast??

I have more to say but my brain is zoned out so Ill say it later. (I dont know if he'd like apple-flavored products. As a coping habit he might eat apples?? To gain control over what happened? Because he was forced to eat the apples to survive. So if he eats them on his own terms?? Idk though.)

[mrderofcr0ws]

HEADLOCK

JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES

that was the name written on a gravestone in brooklyn with no body below it since the sergeant had been pronounced dead in 1945.

the body that once belonged to that name was now hydra's most prized possession— but the winter soldier was not the only danger locked away down in the remote siberian facility. you were there, too. a monster made from horrors most refused to believe could be real.

two trained killing machines.

one bound to commands and trigger words.

the other bound to instinct and bloodlust.

it had been a long time since either of you had seen the sun. you could get out with his help in the brief, painful moments of clarity he had. when he answered to that long forgotten name, you could escape together.

but bucky was often buried under that brooklyn headstone-and the winter soldier who slept in the bunk below you nearly every night was a danger to even you.

this is a fic that explores bucky's time in hydra. the content warnings are as follows: torture, manipulation, angst, pain, psychological horror, graphic descriptions and language, poetic comparisons to cannibalism, hurt with minimal comfort at times, stockholm syndrome, smut, degrading, power imbalance, canon divergence. 18+ fic.

— DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT WARNING —

THIS SPECIFIC CHAPTER OF “HEADLOCK”CONTAINS A NEW SET OF POTENTIALLY TRIGGERING CONTENT ON TOP OF THE ONES LISTED ABOVE THAT PERTAINS TO THE TRUAMA OF THE READERS CHARACTER. THE LIST IS AS FOLLOWS: kidnapping, themes of stalking, implied sexual abuse and assault, drugging, mutilation, and trafficking.

bucky x fem!reader (you have a given name in this fic for the sake of making writing easier, but it will be used sparingly)

word count: idk i write on tumblr... but this one is really, really long, guys, im ngl… (roughly edited)

<- previous part

author note: this chapter is heavily inspired by the song “strangers” by ethel cain. i recommend giving it a listen after you read to deepen the experience. on my masterlist, i shared my bucky playlist that i use to write this fic, too. music is a big source of inspiration for me — the title of this fic and each chapter’s title are a direct reference to the imogen heap song ‘headlock’ (except this one) — and a lot of what i write has songs to go along with the emotions that i try to capture and portray. i hope you enjoy if you decide to listen to the song or take a peek at my playlist.

sorry in advance, everyone.

-crow

PART FIVE —

— WITH MY MEMORY RESTRICTED TO A POLAROID IN EVIDENCE.

a girl had been born to a mother and a father in a small romanian town in 1919.

her mother tended to the house and grew the prettiest flowers in the front garden. she had flowers that bloomed in every season and she had the longest hair anyone had ever seen. her father was a factory worker. he helped manufacture car parts like steering wheels and headlights. he was a strong man. strong like an ox who could lift his two children over his head like they weighed nothing at all, even when they grew to be too big.

this girl had a little brother and her little brother went on to become a scholar as they got older. a scientist. a virologist determined to cure the sick. he moved away to a bigger city when he was old enough and had enough money in his pockets. but he was a good boy. a kind one. he always sent money back home. he sent his sister pictures of the city he lived in and wrote to her every month.

the girl stayed with her parents.

she stayed with her mother— and she and her mother opened a flower shop out of their garage together. it had been her idea. her mother was hesitant. she did not see the value others could find in flowers grown from their garden— but the girl had heard the compliments. their neighbors always had nice things to say as they crossed paths. she saw how people would stop and stare outside their house.

with a bit of persistence and a sweet charming smile, her mother came around to the idea.

for years, she and her mother sold the prettiest flowers for the prettiest shiny pennies. they spent the spring knee deep in dirt, planting seeds and dirtying their nails as they giggled together. in the summer, they would fan themselves off and drink cold iced tea under the shade of their garage head, selling out their flower supply in a matter of days.

she had a good life.

she had been a happy girl.

in 1943 at the age of 24, the girl had met a man deployed to her town during world war ii. an officer.

he took a great liking to her and came to visit her every day. she paid him no mind outside of small conversations and pouring him a glass of iced tea when he asked for one. he paid a dollar every time and she slipped it into her pocket. her mother always beamed when he came by. hospitality was her trade and she welcomed the solider each and every time he popped his head into the garage.

her mother would’ve been cross with her if she knew that her daughter was taking a dollar from him for a cup of iced tea— but it was their little secret.

the girl now grown grew used to his presence.

she grew used to his persistence, too.

he wasn’t so bad to be around when he brought chocolates. he had learned how to swoon the stubborn girl who had caught his eye— and the officer asked on her a date.

a man on deployment shouldn’t date but what else was there to do in that tiny romanian town.

and she agreed.

of course, she had. she’d grown fond of him. a foolish little thing with a crush, she had come to enjoy his visits. when he asked her out, he’d brought her a new dress for the occasion and promised to have her home by 9 o’clock.

how sweet things could sour so terribly…

she never returned from her date on july 9th, 1943.

her mother never saw her again and all the flowers in the garden died. her father lost his strength and he could hardly lift himself out of bed. his brother grew sick with grief and he left the city to return home.

it was all a story.

it was a sad story that filled you with dread knowing there was no way to change the fate of the poor girl who had been stolen away.

but that’s all it was.

just a story.

you had no memories of pretty flowers. no memories of doting parents. no memories of a little brother. there was no house you could close your eyes and picture. there was no town to call home. there were no neighbors. no friends. no officer.

the pictures in the folder made your throat sting. the girl in them had your face. it was the face you could not look at in the mirror— but her story meant nothing.

her story was not yours.

yours had only began where hers ended.

that was the difference between you and the winter soldier— and if nick fury was trying to appeal to a better side of you he believed had to exist by handing you that folder, he was wrong.

whatever hydra had done to you in the very beginning, it was different than what they had done to him. you had no memories— but he had his. they were buried under the rubble of the thousands of pieces they shattered him into over and over again. like shards of a broken mirror, everything reflected off of each other. it was too hard to make sense of— and that is why they tortured him.

they made it too hard for him to sort through the pieces by jumbling them up each and every time he got the courage to try.

your mind was void of everything that came before. it was a blank white space like the room you sat in now.

that is why manipulation and brainwashing could not work on you the way it did for him. there was nothing they could toy with. there was nothing they could take away because they already had— so much so that you could only see the blocks that built your story for yourself when they were placed in front of you within the folder.

pictures of the girl named isla were not the only ones paper clipped to the pages holding any and every bit of information there was about her. a picture of her parents. a picture of her and her brother. a picture of their house in romania. your heart ached as you rubbed the pad of your thumb over the picture of this girl’s mother— but there was no lightbulb.

there was no click.

there was nothing you could recall about this woman— of either women in those pictures.

but you knew one face in that folder better than you even knew your own.

as you flipped the page, his face was clipped to the top of the sheet of paper with the red logo at the top.

hydra.

a hydra document.

a hydra officer.

nikta patrova’s face stared stone-cold back at you.

“stop it,” a far, far away voice cried out. “don’t touch me! please, stop! stop!”

you shut your eyes and all you could see was the blank white void. in every direction you looked in the space behind your eyelids, it was nothing but white. it wasn’t anything at all.

“get off me!”

the ground below your feet began to tremble.

the sound that echoed in the space between your ears was the awful, terrible crackling sound of ice giving way. kukukuku.

the void in your mind was not a void at all.

it was a landscape of unyielding winter— and the ice below your feet shattered, sending you sinking into the freezing depths of a darkness long sealed away.

the smell of blood burned your nose as you crawled through the tall grass under a moonless sky. one hand after the other, you heaved yourself across the dirt. across the grass. across the field.

he tugged you back by your ankles and a sharp, petrified gasp ejected from your lungs. you screamed as you twisted and writhed on the ground like a snake with its head cut off. your nails dug into his arms. blood painted your nails as you tore open skin— but he only snickered.

“shhh,” he hushed as he covered your mouth with his large, calloused hand. “come on, don’t be this way.”

you bit down on his hand and blood stained your teeth. he hissed, pulling his hand back. he put the wound in his mouth, grunting as he suckled on the hurt.

“you little bitch…” he whispered.

the dirt suffocated you and you choked on it each time you tried to draw breath. it stuck to your blood stained mouth as he pressed his palm down into the back of your head and held you in place. on a breezeless summer night, the rustle in the grass was no fault of the winds.

you never saw that field by the river again.

you never took the path back into the town you called home.

and you never returned to the house with the prettiest flowers in the front garden at 9 o’clock.

“get up,”the officer said. he grabbed you by your elbow and hoisted you to your feet. “walk.”

it was hard to walk. you had been cramped in the trunk of that dirty, rusty car for hours. the sun was too bright. you stumbled alongside him as he guided you by the back of your neck towards a warehouse.

you hit the floor hard as he shoved you inside. you scraped your hands on the concrete floor. your knees, too. you looked up with tears in your eyes. in the warehouse, men dressed in dark uniforms stood around a circular table.

“nikta,” one of them turned. a general. he glanced at you with little interest. his next words were in a language you didn’t understand. “what is this?”

nikta grabbed you by the roots of your hair. a cry escaped you and you reached up to grab his wrists. he dragged you over to the table of uniformed men and whispered two words you could not understand.

two words that had damned you.

“she bites.”

you cried ceaselessly in that dusty, dirty trunk when he shoved you back inside it.

you cried ceaselessly when he and the group of uniformed generals forced you onto an airplane.

you cried ceaselessly as you were put in chains and led inside one of hydra’s weapon facilities.

you only stopped crying once they put you in a cell.

you stopped crying because you weren’t alone.

“hey,” a low, soft voice whispered.

you turned at the sound. through the metal bars to your left, you saw the silhouette of him. you wiped your face off on your arms and winced as you made your way across the cold stone floor to the bars separating you both.

“you alright?” the pale, blue-eyed man asked you. he had bruises on his face and bags under his eyes. his short, dark hair was a mess across his forehead. “christ, they roughed you up pretty bad, huh?”

“i…i don’t understand you,” you whispered through trembling lips. you spoke no english. you spoke no russian like the guards did. you had been drowning for days in words you didn’t understand.

his eyes widened, “romanian? you speak romanian? i mean— you’re romanian?”

it felt like god had heard your prayers to hear him speak the only language you understood. you couldn’t help but cry. you placed your hands atop his on the bars and wept like a baby.

“yes.” you cried. your head dropped and you curled into yourself. big, wet tears left streaks on your dirty face. “you— you are, too?”

“yeah. my grandparents moved from there to america.” he said with a smile. he squeezed your hands and rubbed them between his, trying to warm up your fingers. you hadn’t noticed how cold you were.

“how long have you been here?” you asked in a whisper, glancing around at the cold, desolate cells around you. he had been the only one down here before you showed up.

his smile faltered but he tried to keep a brave face. “only a little while.”

he was lying and you knew it, but you didn’t push.

“what’s your name?” he asked as he settled down to sit directly across from you.

“isla,” you told him softly. you sniffled and wiped your face on your sleeves. “my names isla.”

“isla,” he grinned as he said your name. “it’s nice to meet you. i’m james but my friends call me bucky.”

“james,” you said with a small smile.

“bucky,” he corrected. he gave your hands a soft squeeze and whispered like a promise, “we are friends now, isla. call me bucky.”

“friends.” you agreed, squeezing his hand back.

they left you to rot in your cell for more days than you could count.

but they always took him away.

like clockwork, they came each morning to take him and brought him back each night. every day got worse. he lost more and more weight. you tried to share the food they would toss at you but he would politely decline. every time he tried to eat it would all come back up, anyways.

he would apologize to you profusely after he tossed up nothing but bile in the corner of his cell. you would have to cover your ears at the sound of him gagging. the air would smell like sickness. he’d apologize for it over and over again as you sat together with the iron bars separating you.

the time passed slow but he made it all a little easier.

he was a talker.

he would talk about anything and everything even when he didn’t feel well just to keep the quiet away.

he hated the quiet.

he told you about where he had grown up. about his parents. about his sister. he told you about his best friend steve and how they had turned him into a super soldier.

captain america.

you knew that name. you had seen a picture of him in the newspaper not too long ago. he was spotted in europe traveling around to boost the moral of the america troops.

bucky took that news as bravely as he could.

his best friend was on the same continent as him— but no one knew where he was and he doubted very much that they had any resources to spare towards looking for him.

he made his peace with it.

it was you who did not.

“bucky,” you murmured.

“hm?” he asked without opening his eyes. he was holding your hand through the bars like always, exhausted and cold. the two of you were trembling, trying to seek each others body heat despite the bars between you.

“do you think we’ll die down here?”

he opened his eyes and met your gaze. he pulled his hand from yours and slipped it through another bar, placing his hand on your cheek. he wiped the tears off your nose and shook his head.

“nah,” he whispered with a smile. “you and me? we’re going to live until we’re a hundred, darlin’.”

you giggled and placed your hand atop his, pressing your face into his touch. “a hundred?”

“at least that, yeah.” he chuckled.

you slept easy that night.

but the next morning, it wasn’t bucky they took.

“let her go!” he roared, slamming against the bars of the cell. he tried to grab at the officers who dragged you out and into the hallway. “isla!”

you reached for him, the tips of your fingers grazing.

the officer who had stolen you away once before stole you away again once more.

that was the last time you saw bucky.

that was the last memory the girl in the pictures had before you took her place.

you opened yours eyes and stared at the folder in your lap. you brought your hands to your face, touching the tears pouring down. you wiped at them. over and over again until your skin was raw, you wiped your face dry.

the imaginary lightbulb above your head flickered.

nikta.

the hydra officer who had stolen you away and made you what you were— it was all him. every single bit.

he chose you to be weapon-v.

he brought you to hydra and threw you at their feet.

you were his project and they froze him year after year alongside you so that he could keep his eyes on you.

and yet in the end, he turned the gun on bucky and you killed him for it…

why would he have done that after all this time?

you could’ve been sick all over yourself at you saw his stone-cold glare in the picture beside yours. you grabbed the picture out of the folder and let out a bereaved scream. you tore it to shreds as disgust spread across your skin and infected the marrow of your bones.

you fell back against the bed and cried into your pillow. your clawed at the mattress. rage vibrated in every cell of your body. you could’ve torn the room apart— but you were weak. fear made you weak.

the despair you felt knowing there were so many more gaps to fill in froze you still on the bed as you shed tear after tear.

you wanted your mother.

you curled into yourself despite the way your wound protested and clutched the photo of your parents to your chest.

they were long since dead by now.

and you should’ve been reaching the end of your time, too, but you were nearly still that young girl they lost all those years ago.

— ☆ —

“i want everything you have on him.”

nick finished placing down your food but you pushed the small table away. you weren’t hungry.

“the files we have on sergeant barnes are classified.” nick said with a sympathetic frown. “sorry, kid.”

“i’m classified,” you hissed out from between your sharp teeth. “give me the damn files.”

nick stared at you for a long, painful moment.

tears were brimming on your lashes and you tried so hard to fight them— but you couldn’t.

“please,” you begged in a broken voice. you closed your eyes and the tears fell free. “i need to know what happened to him.”

“let me make a call.”

you looked up but nick was already out the door. a soft breath of relief escaped you and you turned your head. the food was steaming beside you. freshly prepared.

you swallowed your pride and ate it.

it wasn’t too bad…

— ☆ —

when you saw nick again, he had a file in his hand. not only that but an agent behind him wheeled in a television. your brows pinched together as you sat up.

“here’s the deal,” nick said, holding up the folder. “i show you everything i have on barnes and you tell me everything i wanna know about the two of you. got it?”

you nodded once.

you’d decide whether or not you’d tell him anything of substance when he asked the questions.

his folder felt as heavy as a headstone in your hands.

you placed it down on your lap and ran the tips of your fingers over his name.

SGT. JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES

HOWLING COMMANDO

[ DECEASED ]

you held your breath as you opened the folder.

a massive stack of papers with every bit of information there was of him greeted you. your heart sank as you skimmed the old, aged ink.

his name. his birthday. his height and weight. his birthplace. his parents names. his enlistment papers. his mission logs.

the medical report from the day he’d been brought back to his company.

you had not been with him the day captain america broke into the hydra base and freed his friend.

doctor zola had sent you away three days earlier to the siberian facility in the mountains. when bucky was freed by steve, they were pulling out all your teeth and reconstructing your jaw.

the answer to the longstanding question between the two of you was now answered.

you had been made first.

you bit the inside of your cheek as you picked up the note smooshed between the next two pages. the crumpled, stained piece of old parchment had his handwriting on it.

you touched the words written in pencil.

——————————————————————————

santa,

her name is isla and i need help to find her.

i have to get her out.

i told her we’d live until we were 100.

- bucky 12/25/1944

——————————————————————————

“oh, god.” you cried, clutching the note to your chest.

guilt burned through every inch of you.

how could you have forgotten him?

the sweet-hearted soldier who held your hands and wiped away your tears. how could you have forgotten that? it was as clear to you now as the moment it had happened— but where had it gone?

where had it all gone?

where had he gone?

you brought the note to your lips and held it against them. it smelled old and worn. when you closed your eyes and tried to picture his face, the only thing you saw was winter and his blank, icy stare.

it was hard to imagine them as one person— just like it was nearly impossible for you to see yourself as the girl in those photos.

bucky hated the quiet. you could recall so vividly now how he hummed a soft, jazzy tune each night you both would grow too tired to talk. he would run his fingers through your hair and hum until he exhausted himself.

winter was quiet. far too quiet.

they weren’t the same.

you and isla weren’t the same.

not anymore.

as you flipped the page, you saw the date at the top of the paper and your heart sank.

1945.

bucky had never found you.

though he tried, a years time had passed and there was no trace of you. you where a ghost in the snow and there were bigger missions for him to see out.

you didn’t blame him.

you couldn’t.

because even if he had found you, you wouldn’t have been able to recall his face.

it was fight in the freight-car that got him killed. he was hanging on to the dangling door for dear life as steve tried to reach him. but it broke. and he fell.

bucky was pronounced dead on january 9th, 1945.

the winter soldier project was resumed on january 9th, 1945 when he was found by hydra soldiers who took him to the facility in the mountains.

you were in your first sleep when they brought him in. underneath the floor frozen in a cryochamber, neither of you had any idea that you were together again.

he didn’t know that you had lived.

and you didn’t know that he had died.

a little less so than before, but you two were soon to become strangers to each other once more.

it broke your heart to read that there were no efforts made in finding him. it was accepted throughout the whole of his platoon that the fall had killed him and it was too dangerous to try and find his impact sight in the mountains.

his friends believed that he was alone and broken in the snow all this time.

and you hadn’t even remembered him.

you covered your mouth with your hand and stifled a sob as you saw the pictures of him. a collage of four. a couple paperclipped to the back of the folder. you wiped away your tears before they could fall and you tried through hardest to see through them as you pulled the piece of paper with all of them glued down out of the folder.

“hello, soldier.” you whispered, touching the picture of him in his uniform.

he was handsome.

you had forgotten how handsome bucky was.

you brushed your thumb across the photo of his face with the cut on it. you knew that cut. you had dabbed your sleeve against it to try and stop it from bleeding. it was one of the last things you had done before you were taken away.

how bittersweet it was to know that photo had been taken of him after he had been brought back safe.

you unclipped the two photos on the back of the folder carefully. a soft smile curled across your lips at the picture of him and his buddy captain america.

his best friend steve.

it was nice to put an unmasked face to steve’s name.

it was strange to see him with short hair— to remember him with it. it made it all the more hard to accept that his man was the same man you had spent every single day with up until your capture.

he was the same man you shared a cell with.

he was the same you are every meal with.

he was the same man you showered with.

he was the same man you punched and kicked and bit and fucked.

but it wasn’t the same man it all.

the man in these pictures was someone you hadn’t seen in a long, long time despite the fact that you had been with him just yesterday.

bucky was a ghost.

sometimes, you heard him whisper and you could see the remnants of him flickering in winter’s cold blue eyes— but bucky had died a long time ago.

and so had isla.

there was only the two of you.

you and winter.

you should’ve given yourself the grace to mourn them — bucky and isla — but it was too late to start.

you placed the picture of bucky and steve down and picked the other one up. you hummed audibly at the sight of his smile. it made you smile. something so automatic. something so sincere.

he was with his squad.

with a charming smile and a cigarette between his teeth, he was surrounded by his brothers-in-arms.

you were careful as you put everything back into his folder— as careful as placing flowers into a casket. you took one last look of the photo of him with the cut on his face.

you kissed the small hurt like you should’ve done back then to comfort him.

you held the folders out for agent fury to take. he was sitting in the chair by your bed. he had stayed quiet and let you…

grieve.

“will you keep them together?” you asked in a whisper. it was such a stupid request but it meant something to you.

those were more than just folders.

they were graves.

“sure,” nick said with a small nod.

you swallowed hard and looked anywhere else. your gaze fell upon the tv. “what is that for?”

“you said that you wanted everything we had on barnes.” nick said as he stood up. he clicked the lights off and flicked on the tv. “this is the rest of it.”

your brows drew together and you watched the screen intently as the camera fumbled. whoever was moving it was doing a piss-poor job of it. you could hear the clunky audio of the tripod bumping into things.

when the camera was finally set up, you saw the bar from the picture. it took a moment to find them but the camera settled on the two of them: bucky barnes and steve rogers.

you sat forward and ignored the pain it brought you. you could hear them laughing together over the music. over the chatter in the bar, you could hear his voice. they had no idea they were being filmed. they spoke like teenage boys as they caught up with each other.

“i really don’t like this whole ‘you’re-now-taller-than-me’ thing.” bucky said as he took a sip of his beer. “it freaks me out. i used to be able to fit you in my pocket, little man.”

steve chuckled and glanced over at him, “i like it.”

“of course, you like it. now you know what it’s like to look down at a woman and see her cleavage from above.” bucky said, wiggling his eyebrows.

steve blew a raspberry and rolled his eyes. “you’re a real dog, buck, y’know that?”

“woof! woof! woof!” bucky barked, throwing his arm around his best friend.

the two of them downed their beers together before the camera turned off.

the tv screen flickered and you watched as nick changed the tape. when the next video started, you sat back in your bed and let the tension in your shoulders drop.

it was an army home-video. the cameraman made his way passed each and every person in the squad. you saw him in the background.

shirtless with two human arms.

it made you smile.

he was shaving in front of a small mirror. as the camera man walked around and he caught wind that he was being filmed, he started flexing in the background. he kissed his muscles and winked.

“look at barnes,” laughed one of the soldiers.

“guys, c’mon, this is supposed to be a serious documentary for roger’s whole big thing. we are living through a historical moment in time. it’s important!” the cameraman complained.

“oh, this is important alright.” bucky said as he walked up to the camera. he leaned in close to it and batted his eyelashes. “hello ladies. like what you see?”

the camera turned away. “you’re going to fog up my lens, jackass!”

“oh, great heavens!” bucky cried out in a god awful posh accent.

the camera turned in time to catch him with his middle fingers up. he hid them behind his back and bowed politely, “good evening.”

“roger’s, how the hell did you put up with this guy?” asked one of the soldiers.

“to be fair, bucky did a lot of putting up with me.” steve said as the camera turned towards him.

“he used to be the size of my pinky picking fights with guys who could toss him over their heads like a sack of potatoes.” bucky said. he stepped into frame beside steve as he pulled on a shirt. he pointed at the camera and said, “america, i want you to know that our nations hero used to be an instigator and feral little street rat that used to not only get his ass royally kicked but mine, too.”

“i will not confirm or deny anything at this time.” steve said with a bow of his head.

“barnes when you’re not getting your ass kicked, what’s it like being captain america’s best friend?” one of the soldiers asked. he held the end of a hairbrush towards the two of them and pretended to interview them.

bucky grabbed ahold of the brush and started screaming into the camera. the whole room erupted into laughter.

steve took the fake mic and said, “for those who don’t know, that means ‘i love you,’ in german. isn’t he just so kind?”

the two of them laughed together, smiling at each other before the tv went black.

music began to play.

your breath got stuck in your throat as the melody floated through the air towards you. it struck you in the heart. the trumpet’s melody was familiar.

this was the song he would hum to himself.

clips began to roll across the screen of him. videos that had him in the background. some more soundless videos of him walking around the bunks and sticking his tongue out at the camera. there were clips of him walking alongside his platoon— walking with steve in his captain america uniform.

the last clip of him ever taken was a video of him right before the howling commandos followed captain america onto the train.

he never returned from that mission.

and you couldn’t help but notice how nervous he looked on the screen in front of you.

you wanted to reach out and save him— but nick shut the tv off.

for a moment, the room was completely dark. it was so dark that you expected to feel the bed rattle as he tossed and turned somewhere below you in his bunk.

but he wasn’t here.

and when nick turned the lights on, you were faced with the horrible emotion now pressing down onto your chest for the first time.

you missed him.

you missed winter.

you couldn’t show it because you could not be weak now of all times— but you were afraid. you had been told so much. shown so much. you remembered so much.

all you wanted was him.

and you missed him.

you missed bucky because isla missed bucky and that part of you — no matter how fleeting she was now— had the privilege to know him for even the smallest amount of time.

and that was a gift.

a gift that you promised yourself you would never forget again.

“now,” agent fury said as he sat down beside you. he pulled a recorder out of his jacket and clicked it on. he placed it on the table beside your bed. “i want answers.”

“you told me that shield knew more about either of us than i could imagine. what questions could you possibly have for me?” you asked before he could.

he grinned at you. “your friend agent nikta patrova defecting from hydra to join shield may have bought him a few brownie points, but we’re only selling lemon tarts right now. you, miss constantinescu, happen to have enough lemon tart points to buy out the whole lemon tart bake sale shield is hosting.”

“i’m not fond of word games.” you said with a roll of your eyes. “and don’t ever call him my friend. he is no friend of mine.”

“yeah, i put that together when you threw a knife into his chest and nearly killed him.” nick said.

nick watched your face go pale and your shoulders tense. he glanced behind him, as if he could see nikta from where he sat right now.

“he’s…alive?” you asked in a whisper.

“he is.” nick said.

“go on and ask him all your questions then. he will know more than i will.” you said with a scowl.

“miss constantinescu, im going to be straight with you. the questions i am going to ask you are not to find out intel about project winter or project vampire. you’re right. we know all that. that’s why you’re here with me now.”

“this,” nick gestured between the two of you. “is an interview.”

you recoiled the smallest bit. “what?”

“an interview, miss constantinescu. shield has known about your existence for some time now thanks to agent nikta’s guilty conscious— and it’s taken a lot to find you. it’s a known fact that you and sergeant barnes are highly trained and lethal expert assassins, but all it takes is one look into either of your project files to show loud and clear that you two are only following orders in order to see another day.”

“that is why shield is offering you a chance.” nick said as he leaned back in his chair.

“a chance…” you repeated the word. it didn’t feel right coming off your tongue. “what kind of chance?”

“a chance to do the right thing.” nick said. he crossed his arms against his chest, maintaining a lax posture as to not put you anymore on edge.

if only he knew how much worse seeing him pretend to be casual made you feel.

“and my options are?” you asked softly.

“you join shield today — right now — and your record is scrubbed clean. fresh start. a new life for you while working for us— helping us bring down hydra at its most weakest spots.”

nick shrugged, “or you go to a maximum security prison in the middle of the ocean where you will never see the sun again.”

you closed your eyes and you couldn’t help but laugh. covering your mouth with the tips of your fingers, you giggled.

“something funny, miss constantinescu?” ageny fury asked, raising his brows.

“yeah. yeah, you know, it’s really funny to me that you think i have a choice in all this. you think that just because you showed me a folder of the woman i once was and i shed a few tears over some dead soldier that what? i’m not the monster you’ve been told i am?”

“i am much worse,” you whispered like a reluctant promise, as if you were trying to spare him from the truth. “i know no other life than the one i was made for. i kill, i eat, i freeze, and i do it all again.”

“there is no choice for me, agent fury, because hydra will come for me. they will come and they will find me. i will not jeopardize what little space i’ve carved out for myself in the rock of my cell for a fresh start that won’t last when they find me. when they know i’ve betrayed them, they will take me from him— and that is not something i can live with.”

“aren’t you alone now?” nick asked. he glanced around. “where is the winter soldier?”

you laughed a again. “men like you think you know everything, don’t you?”

“don’t i?” nick smiled at you and scooted his chair closer to your bedside. “you know, i find the nature of you incredibly fascinating. they did a lot of work on you. you are technically a super soldier— but they gave you special teeth and rewired your olfactory nerve. i know of your dietary habits but they use a strange word in your files that i can’t help but think is a bit out of place.”

“bloodlust. that’s what they call it when you fall into spells of rage. you can wipe out of a whole platoon of men all with your teeth, isn’t that right?” nick asked.

you said nothing.

“but see, here’s the thing i just don’t believe. i don’t believe that you become this insatiable, feral monster at the sight of blood. if you did, then you sure kept a tight grip on yourself on the street yesterday when it was raining blood.” he said.

you tried to lie. “my mask was stuck.”

“bullshit,” nick said, pointing a finger at you. “i call bullshit because i’ve spent a long, long time reading each of your files and i’ve gotten real good at reading between the lines.”

“i believe that you have codewords of your own, don’t you, miss constantinescu? just like the winter soldier, when they are said you have no control over what happens next until someone snaps you out of it.” nick said, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

you leaned towards him and asked in a whisper, “are you expecting a gold star from me?”

nick smiled. “so it is true then.”

“in situations that seem dire, the winter soldier will do what needs to be done.” you said with very little feeling.

“and what is that?” nick asked.

you took a slow, deep breath and met his eyes.

“he will let me off my leash.”

nick sat back in his chair and nodded. “and is this the only instance you know of that there are words used to control you?”

you swallowed hard. “i don’t know. i used to think not but…i don’t know anymore.”

“sometimes,” you bit your lip to try and stop yourself but it all came rushing out. “it’s like there is more missing than just…just the gaps from the black sleep. my memories from before they’ve always been gone, but sometimes….sometimes i’ll wake up and i won’t remember going to sleep. sometimes i don’t know how long i’ve really been out of the ice for.”

“i applaud you for trying but the reason why you can’t appeal to the side me you’re hoping to reach, agent fury, is because she isn’t there.” you said as you looked at him. you shook your head and shrugged your shoulders, “she’s gone and i have a feeling that most of the time, i am too.”

“and the sergeant? it’s the same for him?” nick asked.

you nodded. “worse. they steal things from him. his past. his memory. his ability to feel. they strip him of it all. but with me, i think…i think they have found a way to put me to sleep while im awake.”

“and thats why it frustrates me when people talk about me and him like we’re different. we’re not. as much as i wish we were, we are one big puzzle. if you tried to put all his pieces together, it would be incomplete. it’s the same for me. to see the whole picture, you have to put us together.” you said softly.

nick said nothing for a long, long moment. you watched as he grabbed the recorder off the table and clicked it off. you lost some of the tension in your shoulders and eased back into the bed.

“do you know what the red room is?” nick asked.

“no.” you said. and it was the truth.

“the red room is hydra on meth and they pump out assassins like seahorses. hundreds at a time. they take these young girls and they put them through the worst of the worst— much like hydra has done to you and sergeant barnes.” nick said.

he rubbed his hand over his jaw, “in the red room, they sterilize the girls so that they cannot become mothers. it’s a way to control them. to make sure they never have anything that is more important than their job.”

“what does this have to do with me?” you asked.

“when you were in surgery,” he stopped himself. he cleared his throat and sat up straighter. “we confirmed the reason behind nikta patrova’s fear. you have a uterus and — from what we know about assassins like you and the girls who come from the red room — it is by no means unintentional that you have it.”

your brows drew tight together. “what are you saying?”

“do you get your period, miss constantinescu?” nick asked.

“sometimes,” you nodded. “but why does it matter?”

“the first piece of intel shield got from nikta of you two weren’t your laundry lists of assassinations or records of your personal projects as the winter soldier and weapon-v. shield received a project folder called winter solstice.”

“winter solstice is hydra’s next step to creating its next generation of weapons like you and sergeant barnes.” nick said. he frowned at you and you didn’t know why.

“so what? they’ll be making more soldiers like him? monsters like me?” you asked.

“not exactly.” nick said, his face twitching with unease. “nikta patrova has done a lot of bad things— most of them to you — but even for the worst kinds of men, somethings are just too much.”

“hydra wouldn’t be making the next generation of weapons themselves.” nick said,

“you and sergeant barnes would be.”

your heart stopped— time had stopped.

you closed your eyes and shook your head. over and over again, you shook your head.

instinctively, you placed a hand over your belly.

“that…that wouldn’t be…” you couldn’t find the words. “that’s not…”

“ethical?” nick listed words off for you. “possible? legal? true?”

you looked at him.

he frowned at you, “shield believes that based off the information nikta gave us that projects winter and vampire were merged in the hope that you two would make…little winters and vampires.”

“that is why you have a choice here, isla.” nick said as he stood up. he crouched down beside your bed and folded his hands beside yours. “it took a us a long, long, long time to find you both and it’s a good thing we did, even if we only got one of you away in the end. we won’t let you go back. we can’t. it’s not safe. most of all, it’s not right.”

“how long?”

“what?” nick asked.

you swallowed hard and asked, “how long has shield known about project winter solstice?”

“project winter solstice was put into motion twenty five years ago and nikta patrova sent it to shield almost immediately after it was drafted and accepted.” nick said.

you pressed your lips together in a thin line. tears stung your eyes and you did your best to blink them away. you opened your mouth to speak but you couldn’t say the right words.

“do…do he and i…” you couldn’t finish as your lips began to tremble. you covered you mouth with the tips of your fingers and stifled a sob. “do we have…”

“as of right now,” nick said as gently as he could, “there are three known children to have come from project winter solstice that belong to you and sergeant barnes.”

you closed your eyes and fought to stomach the idea. you couldn’t picture it. you couldn’t imagine it in the slightest. you touched your stomach and winced as the wound reminded you it was there.

it couldn’t be true.

but it was as true as isla constantinescu story was.

“i want to see him.” you whispered. you opened your eyes and looked at nicholas fury as tears slipped down your cheeks. “i want to see nikta patrova and i want the truth from him.”

nick nodded once and stood up with a sigh. “you’re real lucky that you didn’t kill him with that knife, kid.”

hey, guys, i’m sorry. let me get that outta the way. sorry, guys. i told ya this fic was gonna hurt! anyways, hope you enjoyed as always 🖤! also, i hope the pictures added a little something something to the reading experience. i wasn’t too sure how i felt about it at first but it grew on me. lmk your thoughts and pls lmk if you listen to strangers by ethel cain.

expect another update in a day or two unless something pops up for me irl. as always, let me know if you want to join the taglist. thanks so much for reading, guys. you all make me giggle and i look forward to feeding you with each update.

with the most love ever in the world,

crow. next part ->

taglist: @homiesexual-or-homosexual @carbonnite-copy @valckenaux @itsmadamehydra @normanreedus-blog

[namgyunation]

Do you see Nam-gyu introducing his s/o to drugs or do you think he’d be the type to shield you from that type of thing?

cw; talking about drug usage and unhealthy stuff here

mmmm based off of my interpretation of him, i don’t think he’d really try to “shield” you. just doesn't seem like something he'd do

i also don't think he would gaf if you knew about his substance abuse. you're his s/o. if you're with him, he's prob thinking "this is what you signed up for when you got with me." i could see him hiding it from his family, but not you.

with a job like his, it'd be pretty hard to hide, anyways. if anything, i think he'd try to at least hide or be vague about the intensity of the drugs he takes and just how addicted / dependent he is on them. he'd probably try to convince you that it's just something casual that he does or brush you off if you display any concern

i could see him wanting to keep the details of his drug usage off your radar, but not because he’s like. concerned that he’ll be a bad influence or rub off on you, or anything. nor would he do it with the intent of trying to protect you or keep you "innocent" / drug-free.

i don’t think he’d enthusiastically be like “here baby, snort this!!! take this pill!!! ❤️” out of nowhere or straight from the jump when he enters a relationship with his s/o. he also doesn’t seem like the type of dude to go out of his way to share what drugs he’s taking or even just his emotions in general. he seems like he’d be very closed off and be more than happy to keep that part of his life from you if you never asked / pushed the issue.

i think he’d just want to avoid his s/o giving him a hard time: asking too many questions about what he’s doing, how it’s affecting him, his health, their finances, and their relationship, and/or trying to get him to stop. he just wants to do what he wants while still keeping you in his life. he doesn't want you to complicate or overdramaticize things with your concern. he knows what hes doing and can handle himself.

but i think if you expressed any sort of interest or vague curiosity, he might initially be shocked, find it amusing, and be surprisingly interested in the idea of introducing you to something, jokingly offer to get you stuff, though he genuinely would if you just straight up asked him to do so.

i think he’d find it interesting / somewhat exciting to see your first-time reactions to things and would find himself enjoying it more than he expected to somewhere along the way, though i don’t think he’d force it on you. if you wanted to stop, he would be cool with that and drop it immediately. it doesn't matter to him whether or not you do drugs or are on the same page as him. he's doing his thing, and you're doing yours. he wouldn't mind and would be just as open to it if you were to ask him about it again later down the line, though.

if you asked him to give you something and lead you through it, i think he’d derive some sort of enjoyment from knowing a lot about something that you don’t, being your sole source of information on the topic, and knowing he's the first and only person that you experience those types of things with.

i could see him being an obnoxious ass trip-sitter just because he thinks it's funny / even getting some sort of ego because of it.

eg. if you start off with weed, he’s laughing at you for coughing, not knowing how to inhale right, and/or making a stupid, exaggerated face when you exhale. when you overestimate your tolerance and get high as fuck, he’s purposefully putting stupid shit on the tv to gauge your reaction (maybe some dumb children’s cartoon or compilation of idk. plants growing timelapse), laughing at you when you're super focused on it (not mean, just teasing / amused), and maybe he takes a few selfies with you to tease you about it later. he would smoke with you, too, but purposefully stays mostly sober so he can take care of you. also, his tolerance is naturally way higher than yours, and i think he'd find it funny if you got high extremely quick.

he says shit like "oh, i invited your entire family and also a hundred of your friends over to the apartment, and they're outside right now. i hope you don't mind" just to get a funny reaction out of you.

he's not entirely mean, though, and despite having his fun, he still wanted to make sure that your experience was good and comfortable from the get-go. he thought ahead and set out snacks and drinks for when you inevitably got the munchies / dry mouth. he has a line up of funny things to watch and a blanket set out to make sure that you're fine. he doesn't leave you alone. even though it's just weed, he doesn't want to scare you.

he feels good and pats himself on the back for taking care of you. he probably enjoys knowing that in that moment, you're completely depending on him and looking at him like he has all the knowledge in the world. he deeply enjoys the fact that you trust him enough to rely on him and trust that you'll come out of the experience okay, because he's there.

nowww, getting on to other drugs outside of weed, i could see him being more serious about it and wanting to make sure that you're okay. he's open and more than happy to provide you with the things you're showing interest in. sharing his knowledge that's completely foreign and new to you and bringing you into 'his world' is satisfying for him, but once it starts to get a little more dodgy / serious, he's very firm on asking you if you're sure and asks a lot more questions. "what are you feeling?" "what do you see?" "do you need water?" "tell me what's going on." etc. he doesn't completely coddle you, but he's not going to leave you alone, either.

also, i was obsessed with breaking bad in middle school LMAO, so it's leaking into this post... sometimes when i think about nam-gyu, i can't help but think about jessie pinkman. there's a particular scene in the show where jessie's gf, jane, introduces him to heroin for the first time, and i think i could see nam-gyu being like jane in this particular scene, with jessie being his s/o that he's introducing shit to.

over time, if you continued to express clear, enthusiastic interest and prove to him that you could handle it, i think that's when he'd finally let himself relax and do drugs with you, rather than staying sober to monitor you. i think he'd grow accustomed to doing things with you, almost falling into a routine or having it be "your thing." he'd sneak things from work that other people gave to him or things that he was supposed to be giving to VIPs and bring it home to share with you. he'd find that getting high with you specifically was more fun for him than when he did it with others.

ending it off with something somewhat lighthearted: after a while, nam-gyu realizes that he's actually kind of excited to have a long-term buddy to get high with. he would start suggesting that the two of you smoke a joint and then go to the aquarium, art gallery, the zoo, etc. if he got something new, he wouldn't let himself try it and wait until he got home to be with you.

tldr; i don't think he'd shield you, but he wouldn't be super open about it either if you didn't ask or push him to talk about it. if you asked him to introduce you to it, he'd find himself oddly excited by the idea. he'd do it but would make sure to keep you comfortable and ask you over and over if you were sure once you got to the more serious shit. he wouldn't push it, either, in the case that you wanted to stop or were uncertain.

[doublequaterpounder]

Hey this one may get a bit real and sad word of warning!!!

A realisation i’ve kinda had recently about being a feedee and getting hella fat on purpose is its effect on my relationship to my family. like don’t get me wrong they support and love me for whoever i am but it’s just different.

my family is quite small and they love fitness and exercise and all that hoopla especially my mom. so as like teen to connect i also got into all the fitness stuff cause i wanted to foster that connection with her. but it really wasn’t me. i ran a half marathon, did crossfit, judo a whole bunch of stuff cause it made me feel closer to my parents cause that’s what they like and we got to spend a lot of quality time together through exercise.

but again that wasn’t me while this was happening i was fostering a love and a desire of fatness which was so so so confusing and i hated myself for it. but it was what my heart truly deeply wanted needed. so as i became an adult and had autonomy i decided to “let go” of all that and indulge and enjoy food and enjoy my body growing but it wasn’t linear that love for my own fatness since i had grown up learning to fight my own body and happiness as an unintended side affect of my parents health obsession.

so when i choose to get fat and make myself big on purpose i inadvertently choose to distance myself from my parents which was in retrospect really difficult cause i love them so so much but at the same time i can’t live my life for them. i need to choose what makes me happy and in recent times they’ve noticed that yeah i am happy so it doesn’t matter how husky i get as long as i am happy

and i admit i am so lucky that they’ve taken that stance there’s still a misplaced comment here and there about my weight but it’s significantly less than what it used to be. it does suck that ideologically we differ on this subject and they’ll never know why that is but self care if means getting fat is integral to yourself.

idk what this text post is about i just be reflecting is all thanks for reading these rambles i guess lol (lots of love)

[synsacra]

P*RN STAR DANCING

pairing: shanks x stripper!reader

warnings: smut, fingering, shanks has a dirty mouth :3, unprotected piv, creampie, maybe a hint of breeding idk, tiny bit of overstim, lots of banter between shanks and reader, pet names (doll, sweetheart), bit of name calling (slut), mention of marking, liiiittle splash of possessive shanks, reader loves her job

words: 5.3k

a/n: tried to make this fit in the op universe as much as possible but if some things dont make sense go easy on me pls im just a girl :P enjoy

You step onto the dimly lit stage, the sound of your heels clicking against the floor drowned out by the music. The bass pulses around you, vibrating through every inch of your body. You've danced to this song countless times, yet each performance feels like the first. Every dip and spin comes instinctively to your body.

As you start to move, hips swaying and arms reaching above your head to grip the pole, you scan the crowd. The faces blur together in the haze of cigarette smoke and bright lights. But then your eyes lock onto one figure that stands out.

He's tall and broad-shouldered, his skin is sun-kissed–the kind of tan that speaks of years on the open sea–and his red hair almost seems to glow underneath the club's lights. He leans back casually against the wall, but his gaze never leaves you.

You’re used to being ogled. It’s part of the job, the way men’s eyes linger on your curves, their gazes hungry. But this stranger doesn’t look at you like that. His eyes sweep over you, taking you in, but there’s no leer, no crude appraisal. It’s almost respectful. And yet, there’s something in that look that feels undeniably dangerous, like he’s already undressing you in his mind.

"Hey, baby!" one of your regulars shouts as he holds out another wad of Berries. He’s been shoving bills into your thong all night, but now, he feels like a distraction. You turn toward him, leaning down so he can stuff the bills into your bra, but quickly move back towards the pole at center stage.

You spin around it, your body moving gracefully as you flip upside down. Your hair cascades down towards the floor, and for a moment, you feel weightless and free. When you come down, you land smoothly in a split, arching your back to show off every curve of your body.

As the music winds down and you gather up the scattered bills on stage, you catch sight of the redhead again out of the corner of your eye. He’s still watching you.

Once offstage and in the dressing room, you quickly pull on a dress over your stage outfit before making a beeline for the bar, keeping one eye on the crimson-haired man as he makes his way through the crowd. He's drawing attention, but he doesn’t seem to care.

As you reach the bar, you take a seat on a stool next to another dancer and lean in, whispering, "Who's the guy with the red hair?" while nodding subtly in his direction.

Your coworker follows your gaze and whistles lowly. "Damn, he's hot," she says before her eyes widen. "Oh shit, I think I know who he is."

She leans in closer, lowering her voice even more. "That's Shanks... as in the Red-Haired Shanks. You know–Red Hair Pirates? He's one of the Four Emperors!"

You stare at him in disbelief as he approaches the bar and orders a drink. Shanks turns towards you as if sensing your gaze. His eyes lock with yours and he grins.

"Mind if I join you?" He asks, his voice deep and a bit rough.

You're taken aback by the request but quickly compose yourself.

"Not at all," you reply, motioning towards the stool to your left.

“You don’t look like the type to frequent places like this,” you hum, leaning casually against the bar and signaling the batender for a drink. Your voice is teasing, but there’s an edge to it, a challenge.

He turns to look at you, and there it is again–that gaze. It’s intense, but you don’t look away. “And what type is that?” he questions thoughtfully.

“The desperate type,” you explain, tilting your head slightly. “The kind who walks in here looking for something they can’t find anywhere else.”

He chuckles, it’s a sound that sends a shiver down your spine. “Maybe I’m not looking for anything. Maybe I’m just here to enjoy the view.”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued by his response. "The view?" You repeat, your voice laced with amusement. You've heard it all before, but something about how he says it makes you curious.

You take a sip of your drink, your eyes never leaving his. He's got a way of making you feel like you're the only person in the room, like the music, laughter, and shouting are all just background noise.

"Oh, come on," you tease, "you can do better than that." You're trying to get a rise out of him, to see if there's something more to him. But instead of getting defensive, he just smiles.

"I meant it," he laughs. "You're captivating. Like a stormy sea on a moonless night."

You blink, surprised by his poetic comparison. It's not the kind of thing you usually hear in a place like this. Most men are more direct in their compliments–if they give any at all. You laugh, a little breathlessly. "You're quite the charmer," you respond, taking another sip of your drink while keeping your eyes on him.

As the conversation continues between you and Shanks, you can't help but notice how he listens intently to everything you say. His eyes never leave yours, and his smile is genuine and warm. You find yourself opening up more than usual, sharing stories about your life that you don't typically share with customers.

"Tell me," Shanks asks, voice laced with curiosity, "why do you dance here?"

You pause for a moment, considering your response. It's not a question many people ask. Most men who come through these doors aren't interested in why you're here; they're just interested in what they see on stage.

"It's fun," you reply finally. "And it pays well."

As you finish speaking, Shanks leans in closer. His eyes sparkle with interest, and he nods thoughtfully. "Fun," he muses softly, "I can understand that."

You tilt your head slightly, curious about his response. "What about you?" you ask, genuinely interested now. "What brings an emperor of the sea to a place like this?"

Shanks' eyes crinkle at the corners as he grins. "Just passing through," he shrugs. "Thought I'd see what the local nightlife had to offer." His gaze flickers over you briefly, and you feel heat rushing to your cheeks.

"Find anything interesting?" you ask, raising an eyebrow teasingly.

"Oh, definitely," he smirks. His eyes meet yours again, holding your gaze steadily.

You laugh at his response, the sound coming out lighter and more carefree than you expected. "Glad I could hold your interest," you tease.

Shanks chuckles, sipping his drink before setting it down on the bar again.

"So," he says slowly, "do private dances happen often here?"

Your breath catches for a moment before you realize what he's asking. You've had plenty of requests for private dances before, but something about this feels different. Maybe it's the way Shanks looks at you, or perhaps it's just because it's him asking.

"You want a private dance?" you ask nonchalantly, but inside, your heart is already racing at the request.

Shanks nods, his eyes glinting mischievously. "If you're up for it, of course," he hums.

You feel a shiver run down your spine at his tone, but you nod before you can second-guess yourself. 

"Follow me."

You lead him towards the back of the club, away from the pulsing lights and pounding music. The kights in the hallway are dim, and you can hear the muffled sounds of other private dances behind closed doors. You stop in front of one door and turn to look at Shanks.

"Private dances are five thousand Berries," you say softly, your eyes meeting his.

Shanks reaches into his pocket, pulls out a 5000 Berry note, and hands it to you without comment.

As soon as the money changes hands, you open the door and step inside, motioning for Shanks to follow. The room is small, dominated by a single pole in the center of the floor. Plush couches in deep jewel tones line the walls, and there's a small table in the corner with two chairs tucked underneath it.

"Make yourself comfortable," you say as you close the door behind him.

Shanks moves towards one of the couches, sprawling across it casually..

"So," he says, observing the room, "what exactly does this private dance entail?"

You smile sweetly as you move closer to him. "Whatever I want it to," you reply.

Shanks chuckles at your response. “Is that so?” he murmurs, leaning back further into the couch. “I’m all yours, then.”

You take a moment to let your eyes roam over him, admiring how he looks underneath the dim red lights of the room. You step forward until you’re standing right in front of him, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body.

“Let’s start simple,” you start, your voice soft but confident. “Keep your hand to yourself. For now.” You reach out and run a hand along the bare skin where Shanks’ shirt is open teasingly. He tenses slightly under your touch but doesn't move away.

"You're very obedient," you tease. "Most men can't resist trying to touch."

Shanks smiles lazily. "Maybe they don't know what they're doing," he replies.

"Maybe," you agree, chuckling softly. You lean in closer, your face just inches from his. "But you seem to know exactly what you're doing."

Shanks' eyes follow your every move. "I've had my fair share of experience," he admits.

"Oh?" you murmur, trailing your hand down his chest to rest on his thigh. His muscles flex under your touch. "And what kind of experience is that?"

"The fun kind," Shanks smiles.

You laugh airily. "The fun kind?" you repeat, tilting your head to the side. "Is that a pirate thing?"

You're not sure where the question came from, but as soon as you ask it, Shanks' eyes light up with amusement. "Could be," he replies with a hum.

"Could be?" You echo, raising an eyebrow. Your hand is still on his thigh, and you can feel the heat of his skin through his pants.

"Definitely is," Shanks corrects.

You're enjoying the banter with Shanks, and the conversation with him flows easily. There's an undeniable charisma to him that has you swooning.

Deciding to up the ante, you take your hands off of him and start swaying your hips slowly, keeping eye contact with him. His gaze flickers down briefly before meeting yours again, and you can see lust building in his eyes.

You slide onto Shanks' lap smoothly, straddling him with your legs on either side of his thighs. He's firm beneath you, solid muscle that flexes as he adjusts his position to accommodate you. It surprises you how easily you fit there, how natural it feels to be so close to him.

"Comfy?" you question, lips quirking up into a smile as you look down at him.

Shanks laughs softly, the sound rumbling through his chest where your body is pressed against his. "Getting there," he replies with a lopsided grin.

You start to move slowly, grinding down against him in small circles. Your hands come up to rest on his shoulders, fingers digging into the hard planes of muscle there just a little bit. Shanks' hand twitches slightly at his sides, like he wants to reach for you but remembers not to touch.

"How long do these dances usually last?" he muses, eyes fixed on your body.

"Depends on how much the customer pays," you reply. “Sometimes just for one song, sometimes for fifteen minutes…” You lean forward slowly until your face is inches from his once again. Your lips brush against his as you speak next. "But I’ll dance for you as long as you want..."

Your hips continue their slow grind against Shanks', moving in time with the muted beat of music that filters through the walls from the main club area outside this room. You can feel him growing harder beneath you with every roll of your hips.

Shanks' breath catches audibly when your lips press against the column of his neck. "Fuck," he mutters under his breath.

You smile against his skin but say nothing in response. Instead, you start moving faster now, grinding more firmly against him with each roll of your hips. You can feel how hard he is now through those ugly pants he’s wearing and it makes heat pool low in your belly.

"You're really enjoying this," Shanks observes after a few minutes more of the relentless motion of your hips. His voice sounds strained despite its attempt at nonchalance.

"Mhmm…," you agree without breaking rhythm for even a second.

You've lost track of time completely, but judging by Shanks' current state, this private dance has probably gone on longer than usual.

And yet, it still doesn't feel quite enough.

"Touch me," you say abruptly, grabbing his hand and bringing it to rest on your thigh where your dress has ridden up.

You guide Shanks' hand up your thigh slowly, pushing your dress up even further. You shiver slightly at the contact, and he notices, a slight smirk playing on his lips.

"Like that?" he murmurs, his thumb brushing back and forth across the soft skin of your inner thigh.

"Yeah," you reply breathlessly, your hips moving faster against him now. "Higher."

Shanks obliges without hesitation, sliding his hand further up under the skirt of your dress until his fingers brush against the lacy edge of your panties. You gasp softly at the touch, your body tensing with anticipation.

"Fuck," Shanks groans as he feels how wet you are through the thin fabric. "You're soaked..."

He starts to rub your pussy through your panties with his fingertips, sending pleasure shooting through your body. You moan softly against him and arch into his touch.

Suddenly remembering where you are and what you're doing here in this room with him–dancing for money–you make a quick decision.

"Watch closely," you breathe hotly against Shanks' ear before standing abruptly from his lap. The sudden loss of contact leaves both of you panting softly.

Without taking your eyes off him, you reach for the straps of your dress and slide them off your shoulders slowly. The dress falls down your body to pool around your feet on the floor.

Shanks watches you with rapt attention, his dark eyes hungrily roaming over every inch of newly revealed skin. You can already see how affected he is by your body, his breaths come faster now, and a flush rises high on his cheekbones.

You step out of your fallen dress and kick it aside carelessly before turning to face away from Shanks. Reaching back with one hand, you slowly unhook the clasps of your bra before sliding the straps down your arms and dropping it to join your dress on the floor.

Your back is still turned away from him as you look over your shoulder at Shanks with a teasing grin. You can feel his eyes burning into your skin, and you know that right now, he's imagining what he'd do if you let him touch.

You turn fully to face him again after a moment, hands coming up to cup and lift the weight of your breasts slightly. Your nipples are stiff peaks begging for attention and Shanks' eyes zero in on them immediately.

"Shit," he groans again before running a hand down his own body and over the prominent bulge in his pants.

You giggle at this reaction before moving to straddle him once more. Shanks' hand comes up immediately, this time without prompting, cupping one of your breasts fully in its palm. He groans appreciatively at feeling all that soft weight in one hand.

"So fucking perfect..." He mumbles before leaning forward just enough to take one peaked nipple into his hot mouth.

The sensation of wet heat surrounding the sensitive flesh has you crying out sharply against him before burying both hands in his messy red hair to hold him closer.

Your hips continue moving steadily against Shanks as he works your nipple with lips and tongue, suckling and nipping gently until you're squirming with need against him.

When Shanks finally pulls back with a gasp, both of your nipples are glistening wetly in the dim light of the room.

You shudder slightly as cool air hits the wet peaks of your nipples, and you let out a small moan. Shanks looks up at you with darkened eyes, smirking cockily.

"Sensitive?" he teases.

You nod breathlessly in response.

Shanks’ smirk grows wider, and he leans in suddenly, capturing your lips with his own in a sloppy kiss. His tongue slides against yours, and you moan softly into his mouth.

His hand moves from your breast down your body to slide beneath the edge of your panties. You gasp as his fingers find your clit, rubbing the swollen nub gently.

You break the kiss after a moment to look down at him with heavy-lidded eyes. "That feel good?" Shanks asks breathlessly.

You nod in response, barely able to form words right now. Your hips are moving on their own accord now as you grind yourself down onto his skilled fingers.

Shanks chuckles lowly at your reaction before leaning forward again to take your mouth in another kiss. This time, when he pulls back, he nips gently at your bottom lip with his teeth.

The combination of his fingers playing with you and his lips on yours has you squirming against him within minutes. You're panting heavily now as pleasure starts knotting in your stomach.

Suddenly feeling too confined by what little clothing remains between you two, you reach down between both of your bodies to start fumbling with his waistband.

"Need these off," you breathe against his lips.

Shanks helps quickly in removing both your panties and his pants before settling you back onto his lap once more.

This time when your bodies meet, nothing separates Shanks’ hard cock from the wet warmth of your cunt. You both moan loudly as he rubs against you teasingly, the head of his cock catching against your clit.

You gasp sharply as you feel Shanks' hard cock rubbing against your slick folds. The sensation of him so close to being inside you has your hips moving restlessly, trying to bring him closer.

Shanks groans at your movement, his hips flexing up slightly to meet yours. "So eager," he murmurs against your skin before nipping gently at your neck.

The small sting from his teeth sends sparks of pleasure shooting through your body and you shudder against him.

"Need you inside me," you whine.

Shanks chuckles lowly against your skin before pulling away slightly to look you in the eyes. "Not yet, doll," he replies teasingly.

His hand slides down once more to cup your pussy and rub over your clit with his thumb. Your hips move faster now as you grind yourself down onto Shanks' skilled fingers.

He leans forward again, lips closing around one of your nipples and suckling firmly while he works two fingers into your tight cunt slowly. The combination has you crying out above him.

"Fuck- yes, that’s it, sweetheart..." Shanks groans around your nipple before switching sides–licking and nipping at your other breast.

Your body is starting to tremble now from the overwhelming sensation of Shanks’ touch. You can feel yourself getting wetter by the second from his fingers working in and out of you in a slow, deep rhythm.

Suddenly Shanks curls his fingers inside you just right and rubs over that spongy spot deep in your cunt that has you fluttering around him. You scream sharply above him at the feeling.

"Yes, ngh! Shit- Just like that-" You cry out desperately, hips moving frantically now against his hand as he continues rubbing over that spot relentlessly.

Shanks groans lowly at the wet squelch your pussy makes as his fingers plunge into it over and over. He can feel your cunt clenching tightly around him, chuckling out a breathy, “Yeah? Is this pretty pussy gonna make a mess all over my fingers, hm?”

“Cumming- m’cumming! Fuck- fuck fuck fuck!” You babble, eyes rolling into the back of your head as you cum loudly on Shanks' hand, hips jerking erratically as wave after wave of pleasure washes over you.

You collapse forward against him as you come down, panting heavily as aftershocks continue rocking through your trembling body. When you can finally breathe again, you lift your head from Shanks' shoulder and look down at him with hazy eyes.

"S’good..." You pant breathlessly before pressing your lips to his in a passionate kiss. Your tongue slides into his mouth, tangling with his. Shanks groans lowly and reaches down with his hand to cup one of your ass cheeks fully, fingers digging into the soft flesh there as he kneads it. You shudder softly at the sensation before breaking the kiss.

"Wan’ your cock," you whine, grinding down onto Shanks’ lap.

Shanks laughs and his hand moves from your ass to guide his hard cock towards your entrance.

The head catches against you as he rubs it teasingly along your slit, collecting wetness before easing you down onto him. You gasp sharply at the initial stretch from him entering you so suddenly, and Shanks stops after only a few inches inside.

"Too much?" He breathes against your skin.

"No," you gasp. "Jus' need a minute."

Shanks nods and stays still as he holds you close, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. After a few moments, once the initial stretch from Shanks’ size subsides, you start to move slowly above him. His hand moves to grip one side of your hips tightly, helping you ride him as he starts to match your pace from below.

You can feel Shanks' eyes on you as he watches you move above him. The feeling of his heated gaze has you bouncing on his cock harder.

"So fucking tight," Shanks groans, fingers digging into the fat of your hip. "Fuck, doll- this little cunt was made for my cock."

Shanks' voice is rough as he talks, sending pleasure coursing through your veins. "I knew from the moment I saw you up on that stage that this tight little pussy was meant for me. Knew it."

He punctuates his words with hard thrusts of his hips, fingers digging into your hip almost painfully tight now.

You gasp at the filthy words falling from his mouth, your cunt clenching around him.

"Y-yes- I was made for you," you whimper above him, your hips moving faster and faster. "I knew when I saw you too...this pussy belongs to you now."

Shanks groans deeply at your declaration, sucking one nipple into his mouth once more–suckling hard while he fucks up into you with deep thrusts from below.

"Fuck- yeah?" Shanks pants against your skin before switching sides and lavishing attention on the other neglected breast. "Gonna mark up these pretty tits so everyone knows who this sweet little cunt belongs to-"

Your breathing picks up as Shanks works your nipples with lips and tongue while his cock pounds into your cunt and you feel yourself starting to build towards another orgasm already.

"Gonna fill this tight pussy with my cum," Shanks mumbles drunkenly against your tits before nipping sharply at the soft flesh there.

His thumb rubs firm circles over your clit as he fucks into you harder now, hips snapping up to meet yours.

"Fuck yes- cum inside me," you gasp desperately above him, hips moving frantically against Shanks' hand as he works your clit while filling you up so perfectly with his cock.

You can feel yourself getting closer by the second, a knot of pleasure building in your lower belly.

"Shit- fuck- m’close-" You cry, head falling backwards.

"Close?" Shanks repeats against your skin, nipping at your collarbone.

You nod frantically above him, hands fisted in his hair as you grind yourself down onto his cock harder. "Yeah- fuck I'm so close..."

Shanks groans lowly before leaning back to look up at you. "Gonna cum on my cock?" He asks huskily, his voice strained by the effort of fucking you.

You whimper needily, eyes hazy and glazed over. "Yes- wanna cum- wan’ you to fill me up..."

"Gonna make a mess all over my cock? Gonna cum for me like the dirty little slut you are..." He purrs filthily against your neck as he works your sensitive bud.

His words have you keening, cunt fluttering around his cock.

"Yes- fuck yes!" You cry out sharply, his words pushing you over the edge. "Cummin’! Oh god- ‘m cumming!"

Your cunt clenches down around Shanks' thick cock as you cum loudly above him. Shanks groans deeply at the feeling of your pussy squeezing him so tightly.

"Good fucking girl," he breathes heavily against your body as his hips stutter inside you with each clench of your cunt. "Cum on my fucking cock like a good little slut."

His filthy words have you clenching even harder around him, pleasure wracking your body.

Shanks suddenly slams up into you, cock pressing tightly against your cervix, his fingers digging into the meat of your ass. You yelp at the sudden roughness, and then he's cumming too. You feel his thick cock pulsing inside you as he spills himself deep in your cunt.

"Take it," Shanks pants breathlessly against your ear. "Take my fucking cum- fuck this tight little cunt is milking me..."

You can feel him twitching inside you still as he rides out the last waves of pleasure. He pulls back to look at you after a moment, dark eyes hazy with lust.

"Fucking perfect," Shanks murmurs, pressing his lips to yours in a passionate kiss–tongue sliding into your mouth sloppily.

When Shanks finally breaks the kiss after a few seconds, you're both panting softly against each other's lips. He reaches down to slowly pull himself from your swollen cunt, cum dripping out to coat his spent cock.

"Fuck," Shanks groans lowly, watching as more of his cum drips from your well-used hole to pool beneath you on the couch cushions. "Look at this sweet little pussy...so full of my cum."

He runs two fingers through it teasingly, collecting some on them before bringing them up to push back inside you gently. You shudder at the sensation, still sensitive from cumming just moments ago.

"Ahh! Ngh-" You cry out sharply, eyes fluttering closed.

"Mm? Sensitive?" Shanks teases, fingers plunging back inside once more.

You nod frantically above him, hands grabbing his wrist weakly.

"T-too much-" You whimper, hips trying to shift away from his touch.

But there's nowhere for you to go in this position straddling his lap with thighs spread wide open for him.

"Shit- too much- m'really sensitive," you pant above him.

Shanks chuckles mischievously before pulling his fingers from you slowly. You shudder at the sensation of them sliding back out of your swollen cunt. He brings his cum-coated fingers up to your mouth suddenly, smearing them across your lips teasingly.

"Taste yourself," Shanks purrs, watching your reaction intently. "Taste how fucking sweet this tight little pussy is."

You moan softly at the words falling from his mouth, and your tongue darts out instinctively to taste yourself on his fingers, licking them clean of your combined fluids.

"Fuck- you're so good for me, sweetheart..." Shanks groans, a smirk pulling at his lips.

You feel a flutter in your chest at the praise, and you smile down at him.

"I'm just glad you enjoyed yourself," you say softly, gently reaching out to run your fingers through his hair. "I have to say, I had a pretty good time myself."

Shanks chuckles lowly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he looks up at you. "Oh yeah?" he teases, reaching up to cup your cheek in his large hand.

You lean into his touch, savoring the warmth of his skin against yours. "Definitely," you murmur, your eyes never leaving his. "I don't think I've ever had such a good time with a customer before."

Shanks grins up at you. "Well then," he says. "I guess that makes me a pretty special guy, huh?"

You can't help but laugh at that, continuing to run your fingers through his hair playfully. "I suppose it does," you tease back before leaning down to press a sweet kiss against his lips.

You break the kiss, smiling down at Shanks with flushed cheeks. "I should probably get back to work," you say softly, reluctantly shifting off his lap.

Shanks nods in understanding, reaching out to help steady you as you stand on wobbly legs.

You start to gather up your discarded clothing from the floor, pulling your panties and bra back on before reaching for your dress. Shanks watches you with hooded eyes as you shimmy into it, his gaze roaming over your body appreciatively.

"Looking at me like that won't get us out of here any faster," you tease over your shoulder as you smooth the dress over your hips.

"Can't help it," Shanks laughs. "You're a fucking work of art."

You roll your eyes, but you can't stop the small smile tugging at your lips.

"Well, thank you," you say with a playful wink. "But like I said, I should probably get back to work."

Shanks nods again, standing up from the couch and stretching his arms above his head, and you let your eyes roam over his body appreciatively as he does so.

"Thanks for a fun night," Shanks says with a grin as he pulls on those ugly pants of his.

"No problem," you reply with a smile of your own. "It was definitely more interesting than my usual nights here."

Shanks laughs at that before pressing one last kiss against your lips. "I'm glad I could spice things up for you," he murmurs against your mouth.

You're left feeling dizzy from its intensity when he breaks away after a moment.

"I hope we can do this again sometime," Shanks says, his eyes meeting yours.

You nod eagerly. "I'd like that."

"Until next time then," Shanks says with a wink before heading for the door. He pauses after a few steps though, looking back over his shoulder at you.

"Hey, doll?" he says softly.

"Yeah?"

"I really am glad I met you tonight." Shanks' voice is low, and he’s sincere as he speaks.

You feel your heart flutter in your chest at his words, touched by the sincerity behind them. "I'm glad too," you reply just as quietly. 

Shanks nods, giving you one last smile before heading into the hallway. Your shoukders slump in disappointment as Shanks walks out of the room, already missing the feeling of his body against yours. But even with that disappointment, there's no denying the contented smile playing at your lips as you think about just how good he made you feel.

And really, who wouldn't be smiling after a night like this? You've had plenty of customers come through here looking for a good time before, but never has anyone left you feeling quite as satisfied as Shanks did.

You can only hope that it won't be too long until he comes by again…

[sillyboyjuno]

the Utensils.

I really really enjoy the headcannon that they're all siblings so I drew busts of their humanizations paired with some various headcanons of names & ethnicities. pencil is def the oldest, w marker being the youngest after their hypothetical parents got separated... idk i like these guys a lot..💖

holy shit tumblr killed the quality.. please click on it for better quality 😭😭😭

[pucksandpower]

This is gonna sound really weird, but is it alright if you give us (or me realistically) a crash course in ice hockey? I want to start watching it but idk where to start

Is it alright? I would love nothing more than to introduce everyone to one of my favorite sports. I find that fans of Formula 1 tend to really enjoy ice hockey as well because it has a similar feeling of speed and adrenaline, so there tends to be a lot of overlap between fans of the two.

The first thing you need to know is that the NHL (National Hockey League) is the highest level of hockey in the world. There are plenty of other high-level leagues around the globe with entertaining hockey and incredibly passionate fans, but the best of the best players can be found in the NHL.

The second thing you need to know is that, despite what the name may imply, the NHL actually spans two countries — the United States and Canada. There are 32 teams in the league, with 7 of those located in Canada.

Now, the answer to the question I’m sure most new ice hockey fans want to know is how do you choose what team to support? I can’t speak from experience because I was brought up a fan of my favorite team from a young age, but a lot of my friends have had success in joining hockey spaces on social media and finding what team’s fanbase they most vibe with. Some are crazier than others. Some are more laid back. Some are more traditional and conservative. Some are more progressive. This is a great way to get a feel for your fellow fans and see where you can imagine yourself belonging.

On that note, every team in the league is going to be in a different stage of an inevitable cycle. Some teams are contenders — those that have a realistic chance of winning the Stanley Cup. Some teams are in the midfield — they might make the playoffs, they might not. Some teams are in a rebuild, which means that they are playing some, uh, not so great hockey at the moment and giving up “present” assets for “future” assets like young prospects and draft picks.

And one of the most important things every new fan needs to know about (men’s) ice hockey is that fighting is an integral part of the game. Is it legal? No. Is anyone really going to break up a fight? You’ll be hard pressed to find a referee about to do that. Hockey is an incredibly physical game. Fighting acts as 1) a deterrent 2) a form of self-policing 3) a way to make sure what happens on the ice, stays on the ice so grudges aren’t carried over. In addition to fighting, there is an abundance of checking and plenty of hits.

To end this, I leave you with the single most important rule of hockey: never touch the goalie.

[my-rats-call-me-daddy]

OH HE IS!!!

I could talk about him for hours, but you probably don't want to be bored by all that...

Va te faire foutre les américains!

My name is Severus Prince. I’m 16 years old and use he/they pronouns. I live with my mom in a small town in the butt fuck of nowhere. I’m openly gay and if you can’t handle that then you can leave.

My first language is French and I apologize for any misspelling. I’m autistic so please be mindful of that when interacting with my posts.

I am pagan and I mainly work with the Greek gods Hades and Thanatos. I do also work with mother Hekate. Feel free to ask me about that. Or don’t. I don’t care.

I like dressing in an alternative style. I might post photos of that. I don’t know yet. I might not..

I’m also disabled and chronic ill and use a cane.

People I share an existence with:

@d3ad-l1ttle-st4r — Estelle

@madprofessorevan — Evan

@marlene-and-co — Marlene

@l0ve-1s-str4nge — Xenophilius

@pandoras-g1fts— Pandora

@ultim4te-br4t-b4rty — Barty

@tarotpills — Sybill

@my-rats-call-me-daddy — Peter

@siriusly-underrated — Sirius

@ur-fav-theatre-kid — Emmeline

@deer-in-head1ights — James

@mary-andher-lamb — Mary

[colorpuzzled]

super jumbled because my articulation sucks bum .. forgive me .. but I enjoy the few critiques poppy playtime has on capitalism, like with how the employees are treated (getting only 10 minute breaks max) and the terrible working conditions, along with turning children into toys to not have to hire workers, whatever, but I think this is also shown a lot through harley sawyer as well .

I'm probably regurgitating this but it's the way that even with his higher rank in the company and the amount of effort put into this project, despite how terrible it is, he ends up getting his autonomy taken in the end. His control, his life, humanity, everything. Stabbing him right in the back. He mentions this multiple times. One example I can think of, is when during the hour of joy he speaks to some employee, he mentions the place being full of backstabbers and cheaters, methinks.

They did this to him like it was nothing and it's like woah!!! damn . they only kept him around because he was useful. Leith says this as the reason why they didn't just feed him to boxy . the prototype itself says it to be the reason he just doesn't get rid of him, either. in one of the tapes in chapter 4 . sooo yeah . idk where this is going

[siddyyyyyyyy]

YYAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYY

okay hear me out

Jason todd x daughter!reader/gn!teenage reader who basically went through the same torture as him? like idk maybe we got captured by some villains when he wasn't present or something 🙏🏼😔

if im completely honest I'm in need of some angst w/ a fluffy ending 🙂‍↕️ (daddy issues much..........?????????????) love u bro 💕🙏🏼

Flashbacks

Father!Jason Todd x Teenage!reader

wc: 2K summary: You get captured by a past villian, but your father saves you. warnings: angst/comfort, blood, kidnapping, violance, branding scars, no y/n used a/n: Thank you so much for the request!!!! this actually reminded me of another req I did a while ago; Safe Again !! I actually didn't expect for the father!Jason AU to go this well, but I'm not complaining, I'm really glad a lot of you liked it! enjoy this request, thanks again🤗

»For the last time, tell me everthing. Or else I‘ll cut off your head.«

He threatens, squeezing his throat dangerously tight while the cartel leader keeps his wide eyes on the white slits of his helmet, being just as helpless.

The Red Hood is relentless and unhinged in his approach, not letting anyone go without at least one dangerous injury.

He didn‘t know what to do when he woke up from a long nap after patrol and he didn‘t see you at home. You should‘ve been at home a good while ago, and you never mentioned going out with friends after school. He tried checking your phone, but it‘s a lost cause. There‘s no way to track you down or find your last coordinates.

It‘s been almost two days and he finally found a lead. A smaller warehouse, located near a place he forced himself to forget about. Even now, staring at the big screen of his computer, he hopes this is all a bad dream. It‘s more difficult to focus, but he forces himself to get over his inner turmoils and save you. To bring his baby back.

The warehouse was easy to find once he got there, uncomfortable memories flooding through his mind again, making him tense up further. There weren‘t as much guards around, making him doubt that this is the correct location. But he was desperate. Desperate to find you, to bring you back to safety. He doesn‘t want to imagine what could‘ve possibly happened to you during those two days, when he couldn‘t find a single trace of you.

It was scaring him.

He doesn‘t want to fail like…

God, like Bruce did.

But this is real, and it feels like you are already slipping through his fingers. These past two days felt like the longest time in a while. He couldn‘t sleep, didn‘t eat, he focused entirely on finding you again. On getting his baby back.

Jason tenses up at the sound of chains dragging against concrete. It‘s a small sound, but enough to draw his attention and make him grow slightly more paranoid. His feet drag him towards the sound, the hall growing darker as he approaches the main area of the warehouse, being lighted up by a faint bulb at the middle of the ceiling.

He finally reaches the big room, the sight of you making his breath hitch. It‘s like a giant punch to his lungs, he can‘t seem to breathe properly as he takes you in, seated on a chair, hands tied up into the air, head hanging low.

His head jerks to the side once another figure appears, dragging a chain behind him, eyes focused on him like a hyena stalking its prey. But this time, it‘s not Red Hood who intimidates a poor mugger. It‘s somenone who he is familiar with, but can‘t seem to recognise him entirely at the same time. There‘s something different, as if it‘s not exactly the same villian he expected to see.

»Red... hood. How unexpected. Yet predictable. Of course you‘d go after poor children, wouldn‘t you?«

»What did you do?«

Jason hisses back, drawing his gun out and pointing to the copy cat. But the other person doesn‘t seem to be threatened, putting his hands up in mock surrender, chuckling lightly at him, amused.

Your head continues to hang low, seemingly unconscious. Jason keeps his eyes forward on the threat, not daring to look at your beaten body just yet.

»Oh, I think you know it best.« The copy-cat shoots back. Jason‘s blood runs cold. His grip falters ever so slightly on his gun before he finally charges forward, violantly pushing him on the ground, beating the heel of his gun into the other‘s face repeatedly.

He won‘t let the same thing happen to you. You are innocent. You never got wind of his nightly activities in Crime Alley and around Gotham, at least he never told you about them. He didn‘t want you to know the details, even though you are old enough to know about them.

»You—« another hit, »should‘ve—«, another one, »died,«, one final hit to his head, »a long time ago.«

The copy-cat of Joker can‘t help but laugh quietly under him, despite his jaw being locked unnnaturaly. Jason‘s gun is pointed on his forehead, pulling the safety off as he takes a trembling breath.

»I‘ll show you what‘s funny,« after one final breath, Jason pulls the trigger, landing several bullets into his head.

The warehouse grows quiet, leaving Jason with his own feelings. He stares back at the lifeless body under him, the familiarity to Joker making his skin crawl. Finally, he pushes himself off of him, packing his gun back into his holster. His gaze settles back on you, still unconscious on the chair, clothes a bit shredded, your arms chained up into the air.

His stomach churns at the sight, but he keeps it together, approaching you and carefully freeing you.

Your wrists are burning red from being chained up for so long, you body sagging forward once they are free from the chains. Your form is thinner, dark circles under you eyes, hair messed up slightly.

He coos quietly as he picks you up into his arms, making sure not to press on any cuts or bruises. And finally, he brings you home, setting you down on the couch of the living room. He notices you waking up slowly, eyelids fluttering open.

You can feel the aches settling in your body again, your head pounding from all the hits you had to take earlier. Jason stays kneeled down in front of the couch, his hand gently stroking over you head.

»You‘re safe, angel. I‘m here.« His voice quiet and gentle, eyes soft as ever.

You hear him exhale heavily before hugging you carefully, leaning over your weak form on the couch. His heart clenches as you try to hug him back, your hand falling back on the couch, feeling the aching stings through your muscles.

Jason takes a deep breath, forcing himelf to get it together and stay composed in front of you. You need someone to rely to right now, and he would do anything to make you feel safe again.

»Let me check on you, okay? I‘ll fix you up,« his bigger hands let go of you, carefully moving you around a little to examine your weakened body. He notices light cuts along your body, mostly bruises along your soft skin.

You wince once he turns you on your side, immediately letting go and trying to find the source of pain.

»Where does it hurt, hm?« His expression grows more worried, waiting for you to tell him what hurts, already prepared for anything. You gesture at the side you laid on just now, pulling up your shirt a bit to reveal the larger wound.

Jason takes in the branding scar, clenching his fists tightly. The branding scar seems to be some kind of symbol of the copy-cat, revealing a bright smile with chunky teeth. He runs his hand through his hair before he stands up, making his way to find his first aid kit. The apartment grows quiet again, only interrupted by your light winces of pain and steadying breaths to keep the pain under control.

He manages to patch you up fully, making sure that nothing can get infected. You watch him get back into his bedroom for a moment before returning a moment later, handing you over one of his hoodies. He helps you to sit back up on the couch, watching as you stubbornly put it on yourself without any help.

»I‘ll make us some dinner. Want something special?«

He kneels down in front of you again, taking your hand in his to brush his thumb along your knuckles, ready to take any request you‘ll make. You shake your head a bit, accepting any kind of warm meal you will receive.

Eventually, Jason gets to the kitchen and starts making your favourite, letting you stay in the living room with your favourite childhood show playing on TV. Jason lets his thoughts wander while he cooks, letting himself spiral a little in the comfort of his own home.

He keeps comparing himself to Bruce, telling himself that he dodged a big bullet by finding you in time. The fact that you could‘ve died without him knowing, without being able to save you…

The vegetables gently simmer in the pan as he keeps quiet, trying to think of lighter things. With a heavy sigh, he hopes you won‘t hold the same grudge against him, like he does with Bruce. He saved you, he got you back, you won‘t hate him… right?

Jason finally serves two plates for the two of you, entering the living room once more. He notices the way you sit curled up on the couch, surrounded by fuzzy blanket, drowning in his big hoodie. He smiles fondly as he hands you over your plate, sitting down beside you, making sure he doesn‘t accidentally hurt you.

The familiar show brings a sense of nostalgia in him, remembering the early days when you were just a small child, when you had dinner together every evening, and giggled over funny scenes and jokes in the show. But now, you are a little more grown up, barely sixteen years old, sitting beside him after getting rescued.

You finish up your plate after a while, laying your head back on his shoulder. A familiar safety you‘ve grown used to.

»You know I will always find you, right? I will always protect you.« He mutters softly, keeping his eyes trained on the TV.

You listen to him, deciding to stay quiet as he finally shows a more vulnerable, more raw side of him. As his child, you never saw many strong emotions from him, having been helped with yours instead. He always tried his best to understand your emotions and help you get through them, especially when puberty hit you pretty hard. Still, it‘s strange to see him be so open about his thoughts and feelings.

»I know I should‘ve been there to protect you— but I wasn‘t… and— and I will make sure to always be there from now on.« He finishes his small monologue, but you aren‘t as emotional as him. You simply train your eyes on him, speaking up for the first time

»You were always there, dad. It‘s not your fault.« You tell him matter of factly, not having the energy to have a long heart-on-heart with him right now, especi ally after such a hearty meal, making your eyelids heavy. Jason notices your growing tiredness, recongising your familiar character come back to the surface. He keeps his arm wrapped around your shoulders, squeezing gently.

»Okay, I‘ll keep quiet.« Jason promises as he actually grows quiet, allowing you to finally relax further and enjoy the comfort of the home.

Some time goes by before you manage to slip into a light sleep, dozing off against his shoulder as if it‘s a soft pillow. Your father smiles faintly to himself as he notices, letting you fall into a deeper sleep, before carefully picking you up and settling you into his own bed. He remembers the time when you were younger, too afraid to sleep in your own big room, still freshly taken in by him.

Your body stays relaxed and safe in his covers, his hoodie still on you, drowning you in, keeping you safe. Jason decides to stay awake, being unable to fall asleep still. He uses the time to clean up in the kitchen and have some more time to process what happened exactly. He knows Bruce will eventually find out about everything, he still killed the copy- cat in the warehouse, after all. Just another way to get lectured by Bruce, as if he hasn‘t heard it enough times already.

Sitting down by the kitchen island, he picks up his phone in forever, searching a certain contact. The dial tone rings quietly through the kitchen until the other person on the line picks up, letting out a soft grunt of acknowledgement.

»Hey, dad...«

←MASTERLIST

taglist₊‧.°.⋆˚₊‧⋆. @143637-hrrm @dollyure @ibreathesmut @dreamzaremyrealityy @lunana98 @pitofrats @joonunivrs @reallycreativeusername @oneiropoloss

[khaoala]

Can I request fkt lore(does this count idk) joong fkt vacation? Or like a compilation if there is one(I searched but I'm still new and don't know how to look tbh) of all the stuff joong posted with them cause I saw some stuff and wao

anon, there's nothing i'd like more than to give you more context about it.

so, this little trip joong took fk happened in december last year and it was a little getaway healing trip they went together for no reason that they bothered to give us. as we know, joong has become a beloved nong of firstkhao since they started working together in thk (joong saying he loves firstkhao in a special way because they treat him like an actual younger brother when most people don't will forever have a place in my heart. their relationship is truly so cute) and joong is obviously a more adventurous soul so he encouraged fk to do new things hence their boat trip.

needless to say they had a lot of fun and enjoyed their time together, and i must also say, we even got a very romantic video of firstkhao watching the fireworks together as they chatted and laughed.

here are some photos and videos of their trip:

(these three pictures can be found on joong's twitter x, x and x)

(we got this one of first also on joong twitter here x, and it also has a video that i won't post because ask limit, but it's on the same post)

(this one is also from joong's twitter and it was posted a few days later here x)

(mr. joong archen also blessed us with this amazing reels on instagram here x and might i say, the most boyfriends things ever tbh. so well done and so beautiful, fandom thrived the day he posted this here are some screenshots that i feel are really important for us as a fandom)

(first also posted this picture and a video on his instagram here x)

(i also have this picture saved but i have no idea from where this is)

(joong posted a ig stories with first that you can find here x)

and i think that's mostly it? we didn't have a hashtag for it since it wasn't an event, but i was a really fun day for somdom. unfortunately we didn't get the 1M tweets joong wanted to fulfill his promise to pay for a vacation for the four boys to the maldives i think it was, but this boat trip was quite remarkable. i hope they get the chance to go on similar adventures even if they aren't on thk anymore (there are still the fanmeets so technically, in my book, they are still thk tho)