#really really really makes me want to scream ''then why in the FUCK did you come up behind me while I was doing the dishes--

[stoopidpigeonxx]

⋆˚｡⋆୨✧୧˚ 𝑶 𝑪𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏, 𝑴𝒚 𝑪𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏. ˚୨✧୧⋆｡˚⋆

CAPTAIN CURLY SMUT HEADCANNONS !! NSFW under the cut. MDNI.

(These are all completely random, not tied to any prompt. I just want more stuff about this guy cuz I love him) Fandom/characters: Mouthwashing, Captain Curly, other characters briefly mentioned.

Content warning: Smut (obviously), p in v, curlys packing, title kink, thigh-riding, face-sitting, size difference, manhandling, reader is AFAB, creampie, multiple rounds, riding, cursing, J*mmy.

-He's a grower, not a shower.

I firmly believe Curly is a distinguished gentleman, unlike J*mmy who would most likely brag about how big he is and end up only being like, 5 or 6 inches. Curly, however, will not mention his size until you see it for yourself. And when he sees your face, he panics. "Oh-shit, uh- i-is it gonna be too big for you? It's okay if it is, I should've warned you.."

He's four inches soft, uncut. I think he keeps himself decently groomed. He's not completely bare, but it isn't a forest. He's got a little v-line that's only visible when he wears sweatpants that you go absolutely feral over. When he gets hard, whoo boy. 9 inches, throbbing. He's got a cute little vein near his tip that you like to attack when you're sucking him off because it makes his thighs shake. He's got a little bit of a mushroom tip, maybe more rounded. Perfect for hitting all those good spots inside you. In short, he's big. (he tucks it, that's why he doesn't have a bulge in his sprites. Also I'm sorry trans-Curly headcannon people ;-;)

-"Need a seat? I'll volunteer."

VEEEEEERRRYYY into face-sitting. Very. Like, the first thing he wants when you guys get freaky is for you to sit on his face. He's not exactly sure why he likes it, to be honest, he just loves the feeling of you absolutely lose yourself on his tongue. He isn't worried about suffocating or anything, since he's a lot bigger than you, so don't be afraid to ride his face! he can handle it! But seriously, use this guy as a seat. He'd give you a few licks up your slit at first to warm you up (again, gentleman) before going for your clit. And when he gets it, he sucks. Hard. He'd also probably sneak a finger or two inside you to add extra stimulation, because he really wants you to come on his face. He desperately yearns for the sound of you screaming his name as your juices cover his face and tongue, letting you ride your orgasm out before lifting you off his face and setting you down. "Alright, sweet-stuff, my turn. On your knees, please."

-Save a Polle, ride his big ass thighs.

So... we've all seen his sprite. He's thick as fuck. He's got a booty and bigger tits than me. But he also has deliciously large thighs.. so use that to your advantage, because he's totally down with it. He likes using it as foreplay to get you wet enough to take him, and he just likes the feeling. He'll probably give himself a hand while you're doing it, or he'll just watch and leave the touching to you.

He isn't much for public sex, but if you're really horny, he'll let you get high on his thigh over his uniform and gently praise you when you come. It gives him a little buzz to be doing something like that in a risky situation, like while he's in the cockpit sitting at the control panel, or even in the commons of the ship with Daisuke in a few rooms away. When you do come, which isn't that long after, he'll kiss you all over your face and head and twirl your hair in his fingers, using his other hand to rub your ass or back.

"There you go, sweetheart, that's a good girl. Good job."

-Sir yes sir.

I know, I know. He gets called 'Captain' and 'Sir' for his job. But if its coming from you when he's balls deep in you.. It's an entirely different reaction.

"D-did.. you just call me- mgh..- Captain?"

It makes him ferociously horny to hear that title slip from your lips, so pray you'll still walk tomorrow. "Ooh, fuck, yeahhh. Call me that again, baby. Call me that again.. Uh-huh. Captain takin' care of this pretty lil' pussy, huh.."

He doesn't dirty talk that explicitly, but you calling him captain gets his creative juices flowing. Oh, also his come. Yeah..

Its also perfect teasing material. You two couldn't even be getting it on, you'd just sneak up behind him and kiss him on the cheek and say "Morning, Captain!" In that tone you know drives him wild. Boom, hard. Poor guy.

-Yeehaw!

favorite position? Cowgirl. For many reasons. One, he loves looking at your face while you ride his cock. The noises, the facial expressions you make, the way your tits bounce up and down with your hips.. He wishes it was a renaissance painting to look at every morning. He also just likes being able to hold you easily. When you're on his lap, its easier for him to snake a hand up and hold your hair out of your face, or to give your ass gentle love taps (he would never spank you, unless asked to). He's a very hands-on guy and wants to touch you, everywhere he can.

Of course, he doesn't mind the occasional doggy, or missionary, or hell, even a Full Nelson, because you KNOW he's able to hold you like that. Manhandling comes naturally with Curly. Gently, of course. He would never hurt you.

-Gets a little messy.

Curly's no one pump chump. He'll go for hours. Even if he's came inside you at least five times, he'll keep going. He's got hella impressive stamina. His motivation? Seeing your cunt leaking his seed when he pulls out. He wants you to still find it in your underwear 3 days later. No hole goes unfilled. He's not exactly a breeder, per-say, though he definitely wouldn't complain about getting you pregnant, he just likes seeing you in a state. He thinks of it as artwork, leaving you so stuffed to the brim. The next day, he'd pull you aside and give you a quick finger-orgasm, just to see if his come's still in there. When it leaks onto his fingers along with your own, he's a very happy man. "Ahh, look at that. Still got it in ya. Should fill you up even more later, hm?"

oof. my hands hurt. ;-;

[hitomisuzuya]

Secret admirer+neighbour reader that allows Scara to stay over in her room whenever shit gets rowdy at his home for whatever reason. She leaves letters of encouragement in his locker and snacks and stuff. He found it stupid at first but gave up 'reluctantly'.

But like, pls, he knows it's her. The way she looks at him, hopefully, every time he scowls a certain way, he gets a more expensive snack (within the budget of a little middle-class lady, of course), and he starts liking her a bit too...

And anyway, they get into a cute little confrontation when she cares about him a little too much, with a bit too much honesty with the cutest outfit and he's turned on and- you get the idea.

Please, praise kink. Praise my hubby🥺🥺 maybe a bit of degrading from him.

scaramouche x fem!reader. smut. porn with some plot. fluff. degradation. praise for scara. cunnilingus. for narrative purposes, college has lockers for people who live off campus.

i grinned when i read this ask. legit scaramouche would fall in love kicking and screaming reluctantly about it the whole time🤣 this is a little long.

if scaramouche had it his way, he would've chosen to live on campus at the dorms. but no, being so close to the college made his bitch mother suggest he might be more comfortable just living at home. incidentally, it was over just that issue that you meant scaramouche officially for the first time.

you swore he slammed the door loud enough to rattle to every window of his house. and yours. naturally, it startled you, being out on the porch looking at the orange and purple painted clouds of the sunset. you'd seen him around campus before, but social anxiety often came into play. and he sort of treated you like a nuisance when you tried to talk to him.

"you okay?" you asked, giving him a soft look of concern.

"huh? do you need something?" scaramouche snapped, glaring at you in a way that would've made anyone instantly fuck off.

anyone wasn't you, though. "no, it just sounds like you were fighting with someone," you replied, his glare making your cheeks flush.

"yeah, bitch mother," it was like he didn't want to dedicate the extra few seconds of time to string together a longer sentence to mention her in.

"you can come hang out with me in my room for awhile until things cool down. no one is home right now but me," you said shyly, playing with your hair in an annoying way he absolutely couldn't miss.

"uh, sure. yeah whatever, gimme a few minutes," scaramouche grumbled, turning to go back inside the house. back inside to tell his mother to fuck off one more time. he was automatically suspicious. why were you offering? what did you stand to gain from it?

he thought about these questions while he unplugged (ripped the cords out of the outlet) his xbox, and slammed the door again. threw the door to your house open, and sort of stomped up the stairs. he promptly hooked his xbox up to your tv like he was automatically entitled to it.

but you didn't mind. scaramouche always made you feel weak in the knees. you even got him to tell you what he wanted for dinner so you could make it for him.

this became almost something of a daily occurrence. an occurrence that scaramouche was startled to find how comfortable he was becoming with.

you sure are a strange one. you even sat and watched him play video games late into the night, monopolizing your tv and not really giving a shit if there was something you wanted to watch. you never said a thing if there was. dvrs exist, after all. you would cheer him on and praise him when he was playing good. you looked stuff up on your phone to help him if he got stuck on a part somewhere.

you would remind him about tests tomorrow. he told you whatever and ended up not studying. he didn't really need to honestly. thing is, though, you started leaving notes of encouragement tucked into his folders or notebooks. or left them in his locker with some sort of disgusting sweet treat. "for you to enjoy now or later. it's up to you. good luck today."

he thought it was incredibly stupid. what could you possibly gain from this nonsense? "i don't like sweets," he said, tossing a baggie of oreos on your desk. "disgusting. absolutely no thanks."

your posture stiffened a little, like you'd just been caught red handed doing something secretive. in a way, you had been. "wh-what are you talking about?" you stammered shyly, "who left you those?" you paused for a moment, twisting lock of hair around your index finger. "incidentally, what would you want for something like that?"

scaramouche almost snorted. god, you are so transparent. he knew it was you, but you are still trying to play it off like it wasn't, fidgeting nervously with your fingers. it was disgustingly adorable so he let you carry on with it in his own way. stop it.

"salted rice balls with sea weed in the middle. i like those, not the toxic waste that is chocolate. or rather horse shit," he replied, rolling his eyes.

sure enough, a few days later, salted white rice balls with seaweed in the middle appeared in his locker the next morning. "please, eat these. sorry about before. you try so hard and deserve a good treat."

fuck, fuck, fuck!

he was starting to tuck your notes into his pockets to keep with him throughout the day. some of the snacks you make him looked expensive. and you were the type to buy the ingredients and hand make them yourself. you had to have been getting up super early in the morning to make them or staying up late the night before.

and every time he called you out on it, you shyly played it off. even joking with him about him having a secret admirer, though he swore you looked a little sad at the thought of someone else liking him like you weren't talking about yourself.

even worse, scaramouche started looking at you and thinking; shit, she looks really cute today. those are thigh highs she's wearing cup her thighs perfectly. it makes me wanna..

he'd had enough when he started jacking himself off after he left your house for the night. thinking of you, the innocent girl next door who doted on him and gave him attention. who is way too sweet for her own good. with this stupid crush on him that you refused to say anything about.

how dare you make him fall in love.

you started wearing thigh highs when he mentioned casually he likes them, tempting him with a garter belt. a garter that his eyes strained to casually get a peek at if the pleats of your skirt bounced in just the right way.

he caught you on your way out the door to go the convenience/grocery store that stayed open all night, a list of ingredients and a recipe in your hand to read on the way.

"why do you do this nonsense?" scaramouche asked, snatching the slip of paper out of your hand. he couldn't help but smirk. just like he thought, there was a recipe for rice balls with eel in them and miso soup. you were even going to stop by the coffee shop and get his favorite coffee.

...

fucking hell, you are way too sweet for your own good but damn it, he enjoyed soaking up every bit of your attention now. his bitch mother even "accused" him of dating someone a few days ago. the nerve!

"i..i." you stammered shyly in a way that made him want to kiss you. really really badly. you knew you were caught. "was i that obvious?"

scaramouche snorted. "you are so obvious that you could've landed plane without waving your arms. it was actually a little pathetic," he sighed seeing your reaction. why did you do that? why did your cheeks flush when he flat out insulted you?

and that was how you ended up on your back on his bed, your legs spread and stripped almost entirely of your clothes as he crawled between your legs. "these stay on," he insisted, hooking his finger under the top of your thigh high, letting it snap back on your thigh. he'd angrily kissed you all the way up to his room, pawing at your clothes and swallowing your moans into his mouth.

you always took care of him in your room. and now he was taking care of you properly in his room. it was a chore to fight his pride, anyways. and he didn't want to fight it anymore.

having his hands holding your thighs apart while he licked slow, hungry stripes up and down your pussy was much more preferable. "desperation is good color on you, slut," he groaned, teasingly kitten licking your clit before sweeping it down to swirl around your hole. youclenched on the tip of his tongue like he imagined that you would.

"i..i can't help it," you moan shakily, squirming as you grind on his mouth, "i'm sorry. i'm so in love you with it hurts. i just..just," you are cut off when scaramouche latched his lips around your clit, letting out a gasp of pleasure. your clit tingled and throbbed as he sucked, prodding and swirling his tongue in a way that made a dizzying warmth spread through your core. "i wanted your attention."

you sound so fucking cute it made his cock ache almost painfully. did you have any idea how unbearable you made it all the fucking time? "i saw right through your pathetic attempts to woe me. praise me more, slut. it's making me hard," he groaned, drunk on the taste on your pussy soaking his tongue.

he held your pussy against his mouth as you grinded on his tongue, your fingers finding his hair and pushing his mouth down. "you are perfect, scara!" you cry out, your clit throbbing twice as hard underneath his tongue. "your tongue feels so good! you are all i ever think about!"

he could edge himself on your words praise, soaking up every word. "go on. keep going while i tongue fuck you," he moaned, focusing his tongue on your clit again.

his tongue working your pussy over like a starved animal was making you start to babble nonsense. "your so smart, and handsome and strong. your fingers are beautiful, so beautiful i want to suck on them. don't stop, please. please," you have the cutest sounding whimpers when the jolts of pleasure rocketing through you were too much for you to process.

your precious babbling spurred scaramouche's tongue on, one hand reluctantly leaving your thigh to palm and rub his cock outside his jeans. you deserve to cum hard on his tongue for sounding so sweet.

you twitch and spasm in bliss, tugging urgently on his hair. your hips bucked up to rub and grind on his mouth. you writhed on the bed, relaxing into his possessive squeeze on your thighs. it wasn't long before you couldn't keep it together anymore. or at least as together as you thought you had it. you'd broken on his tongue a long time ago.

you whimper weakly behind your shameless moans, your thighs shaking as your orgasm washed over you. it was so strong it nearly even made your fingers fall limp in his hair. his tongue lovingly fucked you through your orgasm until you were panting and shaking on the cusps of overstimulation. he lapped at your release.

"i think i found the only sweet i will enjoy," satisfied, he sat up and wiped his mouth. you are practically passed out on his bed, exhausted and overloaded. neither of you were making it to your evening classes. he planned to spend that time further devouring you once he let you sleep a little.

[seitmai]

“Just the night in general. I knew everyone would love you, but I really think Thor wants to be your big brother now,” Bucky replied. You wanted it so badly to be endearing, but Thor was dangerous. He mentioned a father-in-law. How exactly did he find his wife? And bringing up the flower donations to the hospital. Bucky seemed upset. Why? “Which he’ll have to fight Steve for.”

They are very eager, maybe a little too much to "get" a little sister 🫣

His laughter died off quickly when he reached out and gently took your hand again, prying your fingers away from your palm. You didn’t notice it stung from your nails until he brought your hand to his mouth and kissed it. “You think we’re bullies?” He asked against your skin. “Yes. Besides nearly beating that jerk to death, you do realize that you use force and threats to dominate and intimidate. That’s a form of bullying, Bucky,” you said. Was he deliberately being obtuse or was he lost in his delusion that this was all normal?

Someone had to tell them lol

“I wouldn’t say we’re bullies. I call it protecting and keeping what’s mine,” he said. There was no shame on his end. “Right. Because I’m a possession and not a person,” you said, your face scrunching up as you tried not to cry. You needed rest. If part of Bucky’s plan was to wear you down by overwhelming you, mission accomplished. “I’m so tired. I just want to go to bed.”

This is not going well🥴

You could scream until your lungs gave out that you didn’t belong with him and you knew in your heart he’d argue until his last breath that you did. He was steadfast in that belief that you were soulmates. That conviction was so strong that what you really feared was that he would somehow convince you that he was right: that you belonged together.

😬😬😬

He was a dog with a bone. He wouldn’t let that go. “Why don’t you just take a photo of me giving you the finger?” You suggested as he helped you out of the car. “Only if you do it with a smile. I’ll even set it as the background on my phone,” he winked. Your reluctance and defiance of him didn’t phase him in the slightest. “And if you give me the finger, I’ll take it as an invitation that you want to fuck me.”

Puhh he really just sees or hearswhat he wants to see or hear 🥴

“Your past boyfriends never did anything for you. Emotionally, physically,” he stated, sliding his hands under the nightgown to your hips. Grasping the hem of your pants, he pushed them down as far as he could. “I’ll bet they didn’t even buy you flowers and used the excuse that they didn’t because you’re a florist.” The words were tiny cuts on old wounds, but you wouldn't give him the satisfaction. “And you will?” “I will. I’ll give you the life and love you deserve, making you forget any other man out there existed before me.” His eyes raked over you as you stepped out of your pants, your panties still soaked. “But I’m not gonna fuck you.”

He knows exactly how to push her buttons

A couple of deep breaths and you made your way back to your bedroom. You paused when you saw Bucky holding a framed photo of you and your friends, longing in his eyes when he lifted his gaze. “You look so happy,” he murmured, carefully setting the frame down on the nightstand before he pulled the blankets back for you. “Can you do me one favor and I’ll go?” “I was happy. It was a fun day.” You slipped into bed when he gave you space to do so, but his body was still close to yours. Firm. Hard. He really could pin you down and do what he wanted if he wished. “What’s the favor?” He tucked the blanket around you, his hair falling into his face. You almost reached up to brush it back, but refrained. Who knew what your touch would do? “Look at me like you love me. Please.”

Geez, what a request to end the day 🫣

Hold You Tight: Part 9

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 8 | Series Masterlist | Part 10

Chapter Summary: Bucky takes you home, but will he keep his hands to himself?

Chapter Word Count: Over 3.7k

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, tension, dirty talk, unease, possessiveness, inner turmoil, slight feels, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight and thank you for your patience! Hope you lovelies continue to enjoy. Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You thought you heard the men wish you well once more when Bucky led you out of the office. You weren’t completely sure since you tried to block everything out, but attempting to disassociate wouldn’t exactly do you any good. The night wasn’t over yet and you had to stay sharp. You didn’t know what Bucky had planned for when he got you home. Were you prepared at all?

Not in the least.

You half expected to walk back through the front of the club to leave, but Ray directed you to a door near the back once he gave Bucky a nod. The car was waiting in the alley and you took a moment to glance up at the sky. You could only make out one star and you wished in that moment you could grow wings and fly away. But when did wishing upon a star do you any good?

“Let’s get you back to your place,” Bucky said, helping you into the car.

You had to give him credit for trying to keep up his end of the bargain by getting you home on time. Your body refused to relax though once he sat beside you and took your hand. Was he trying to get you accustomed to his touch? Make you crave him? It bothered you that in spite of your determination he drew you in to a certain degree. But you wouldn’t let him take you to bed tonight. You weren’t ready to cross that inevitable line.

Maybe, just maybe, if your performance in bed disappointed him, he’d get bored and walk away. The thought almost made you laugh. That wasn’t happening. If anything, he’d probably love teaching you how to be his perfect lover.

“I think tonight went well,” Bucky smiled.

“Which part exactly?” You mumbled, pulling your hand away. The part where he forced you to go, how his men all but admitted they knew Bucky stalked you, or how they beat the hell out of a man?

“Just the night in general. I knew everyone would love you, but I really think Thor wants to be your big brother now,” Bucky replied. You wanted it so badly to be endearing, but Thor was dangerous. He mentioned a father-in-law. How exactly did he find his wife? And bringing up the flower donations to the hospital. Bucky seemed upset. Why? “Which he’ll have to fight Steve for.”

“Fighting. You guys seem to excel in that arena,” you said, remembering how they all took turns beating up John. “But I guess Steve does have a bit of that ‘big brother’ vibe, helping you take total control of my life and whatnot.”

“Not total control. I’m still letting you work, but maybe I can buy the shop.” He chuckled at your thunderous expression. The light threat had you seeing red. “I probably shouldn't joke about that, should I?”

“Letting me work? Like it’s your decision? And don’t you dare buy the shop.” You pushed at him to keep from slapping him when he chuckled again. Not with enough force to get him far away from you, but you needed some sort of space in the vehicle. He also needed a good hit over the head. “You’re a bully, do you know that? So are your friends.”

His laughter died off quickly when he reached out and gently took your hand again, prying your fingers away from your palm. You didn’t notice it stung from your nails until he brought your hand to his mouth and kissed it. “You think we’re bullies?” He asked against your skin.

“Yes. Besides nearly beating that jerk to death, you do realize that you use force and threats to dominate and intimidate. That’s a form of bullying, Bucky,” you said. Was he deliberately being obtuse or was he lost in his delusion that this was all normal?

“I wouldn’t say we’re bullies. I call it protecting and keeping what’s mine,” he said. There was no shame on his end.

“Right. Because I’m a possession and not a person,” you said, your face scrunching up as you tried not to cry. You needed rest. If part of Bucky’s plan was to wear you down by overwhelming you, mission accomplished. “I’m so tired. I just want to go to bed.”

“You’re a person, not a possession, Kotyonok. And not just a person, a good person who gives so much of herself to others. And probably one of the only people who rightfully calls me out on my shit.” His response drew you up short. “Outside of my friends, no one else does that.”

“Maybe because they’re afraid of you and what you can do,” you said after a moment. Fear could make anyone say what they thought people wanted to hear. “Either that or they want your approval,” you added, which you could also understand to a point. People wanted a sense of belonging, especially with those who had influence and power.

“Maybe they are afraid,” he agreed, brushing his lips against your palm again with a sigh. “What is it about me that scares you most?”

“I’m not really sure exactly,” you admitted. There was so much about the situation that terrified you. What he was capable of. How he inserted himself into various aspects of your life and so quickly. How far he was willing to go to keep you. “But I think it’s your conviction. That you’re so sure that I’m your other half and no one can convince you otherwise, not even me.”

You could scream until your lungs gave out that you didn’t belong with him and you knew in your heart he’d argue until his last breath that you did. He was steadfast in that belief that you were soulmates. That conviction was so strong that what you really feared was that he would somehow convince you that he was right: that you belonged together.

Those steel blue eyes of his met yours and mesmerized you for a heartbeat before you looked away. “Love is scary. It’s natural to be afraid of it.” His lips brushed your ear, making you shiver. “But giving someone the most fragile parts of yourself is one of the bravest things a person can do.”

There was truth in his words, but it felt like he moved another chess piece into place. He was trying to disarm you and you couldn’t let him. “Who painted that black dahlia in your office?” You asked suddenly, feeling him move back enough that you could turn your head toward him. “And why display that flower?” You didn’t believe for a second that he chose it for aesthetic purposes.

“Beautiful, isn't it? Steve painted it,” he replied with an odd mixture of affection and bitterness. “It’s for my parents.”

“Steve is a gifted artist.” You hoped your voice stayed even enough that Bucky wouldn’t get jealous of you complimenting another man’s talent. “I don't know if the symbolism of flowers mean anything to you, but the black dahlia-”

“Betrayal. Sadness. Darkness,” he ticked off, his voice cold enough that another shiver moved through your body. “It was the last flower my dad ever got my mom and it serves as a reminder.”

You swallowed as warning bells sounded in your mind to tread carefully. “And what's that?”

He moved close, your eyes shutting as his hand wrapped around the nape of your neck. “That I'll never do to you what he did to her.”

There was suppressed rage within him. Sorrow. It rolled off him in waves strong enough that they could drown you. He said earlier that his dad got what he deserved. What had he done to his mom?

“You’re in pain,” you whispered. He was hurting and you logically shouldn’t care. So why did you want to know the cause of that hurt? “You have to tell me why.”

It wasn’t for you to use to your advantage. You weren’t sure if you could manipulate someone else. If you knew what happened though, it would at least give you more answers to who Bucky was and why he was the way he was. It could help you gain some sort of understanding.

“I’m not in pain when I’m with you,” he whispered, bringing your hand on his chest. Was he relying on you to chase away whatever haunted him? “Later. I’ve overwhelmed you enough for one evening.”

You let out a breath. You swore he was doing this on purpose, giving you just enough information that you’d wait around until he gave you more. “I can’t argue with you there,” you said, his heart racing under your touch. “Just answer one thing for me, please.”

“What’s that?”

“Marc from the bookstore,” you began, the man’s kind face shimmering in your mind. “Did anything happen to him?”

“I’d question another man being on your mind, but I know you’re just concerned about his well-being.” An easy smile crossed Bucky’s face as you bit your tongue. You could think about anyone you wanted to. “I can’t speak for him right this second, but he was perfectly fine when you and I left. He was just having a chat with one of my associates.”

You exhaled, thankful Marc wasn't hurt. “What kind of chat?” You asked. He was a nice guy, though he did seem to know a bit about Bucky. What exactly was he involved in?

“He just got a warning to be careful about what he does or doesn’t say to his customers.” You tensed before he kissed your forehead. Did he know about the conversation you two had? “And I don’t think the two of you should be alone with each other in the bookstore going forward.”

Just when Bucky had you feeling some sort of sympathy for him moments ago he shocked you right out of it. “Another decision that isn’t yours to make,” you stated, the car coming to a stop. “And you really don’t have to walk me up. I think we’ve had enough of each other’s company tonight.”

“I said I’m tucking you into bed and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” The smile he gave you was nothing short of cocky when he added, “And you owe me a photo. I’m going to get it.”

He was a dog with a bone. He wouldn’t let that go. “Why don’t you just take a photo of me giving you the finger?” You suggested as he helped you out of the car.

“Only if you do it with a smile. I’ll even set it as the background on my phone,” he winked. Your reluctance and defiance of him didn’t phase him in the slightest. “And if you give me the finger, I’ll take it as an invitation that you want to fuck me.”

“Let’s go, please.”

You said nothing else as you went into the building, your anxiety mounting by the second. The slow rise of the elevator didn’t help, Bucky’s hip pressed against yours like he couldn’t stand to have space between you. You figure he’d shove you against the wall and claim your mouth, but he didn’t make a move. It impressed you that he behaved until you got to your floor. It didn’t stop your hand from shaking when you got your keys out.

“Still don’t want to say good night now?”

“I don’t want to say good night at all,” he answered, following you into the apartment and turning on the light. The welcoming feeling you expected when you got home wasn't there. There was a chill in the usual warmth.

“Well, you’ll have to sooner or later,” you said, swallowing when you faced Bucky. He shut the door and watched intently as you set your keys and bag down. You were quiet as you stared back, tension thick as you tried to predict what he was going to do. Once again, he managed to hold all the power in your home.

“Have I told you how beautiful you are?” He asked, heat and hunger in his stare as he slowly advanced.

Your throat went dry as you stepped back. “You have.”

“So beautiful and so good.” You made another move to retreat when he stepped forward, his manner confident and compelling as he reached out and prevented you from moving back further. “It’s driving me crazy not having you yet.”

“Please, you don’t…” you trailed off when he sank to his knees, unexpected heat flowing from your core. He guided one of your hands to his shoulder to brace yourself, his eyes soft as he helped remove one of your shoes. You found it difficult to breathe as he removed the other, his hand brushing your ankle with infinite tenderness. Like it was an honor to touch and be on his knees for you.

“I know the first time I taste you I’ll never want to stop. I’ll have to wake up every day between your thighs. Fall asleep that way, too.” His hand slid up your calf and his eyes darkened when your other hand found its way to his thick locks. Wetness gathered between your legs when his touch moved to your thigh. “Your pussy is hungry for me, isn’t it? My fingers, my tongue, my cock. I’ll feed her well.”

His voice was like velvet. Seductive. Aching. “Bucky…” Your breath rushed out swiftly when he kissed your mound through your clothes, tormenting you with arousal you didn’t ask for. It frightened you.

“I can smell you,” he murmured, nosing along where his lips had been before he sat back. “Smell so fucking good.”

Moving your shoes out of the way, he rose to his full height again as you willed your legs not to shake. You weren’t used to anyone looking at you, let alone speak to you, the way he did. Stark desire. Possessiveness. His form of love. Your heart pounded and you refused to answer him or glance down. If you looked at the front of his pants…

He took your hand and pulled you in the direction of the bedroom. Your heart pounded with mounting speed, your heels digging into the floor. “You still haven't kissed me,” you blurted out, hoping it would prevent him from taking you to bed. Or would he take that as an invitation to kiss your lips?

“No, I haven't.” You tried to keep some distance between you as he went to your bed, his hand moving along the blanket. You couldn't breathe. “It scares you how much your body wants mine, doesn’t it?”

“Is that what you think?” You asked, forcing air back into your lungs. It did scare you. It also scared you that you didn’t push him away or scream when he dropped to his knees to remove your shoes. Where was your fighting instinct?

“It is what I think.” The ease in which he moved away from the bed to your dresser to find your pajamas frightened you, too. Like he belonged in your room. You thought back to the night he broke in and left your gift on your bed. How much time did he take to look around? “Like love, giving your body to someone can be scary. You have to trust that you won't get hurt when you’re physically vulnerable.”

“You swore you wouldn't hurt me,” you reminded him.

“And I won't. But you know what else I think?” His magnetic gaze stayed on you as he brought a nightgown over. “That no guy has ever really taken care of you and you’re apprehensive to let me try.”

If you were apprehensive, it was because he was a walking red flag. “What makes you…” Your words stopped when he grasped the bottom of your shirt and pulled it up. Your arms instinctively went up before you realized what you were doing. Removing your shirt, you didn’t get a chance to cover your breasts before he slipped the nightgown on you.

“Your past boyfriends never did anything for you. Emotionally, physically,” he stated, sliding his hands under the nightgown to your hips. Grasping the hem of your pants, he pushed them down as far as he could. “I’ll bet they didn’t even buy you flowers and used the excuse that they didn’t because you’re a florist.”

The words were tiny cuts on old wounds, but you wouldn't give him the satisfaction. “And you will?”

“I will. I’ll give you the life and love you deserve, making you forget any other man out there existed before me.” His eyes raked over you as you stepped out of your pants, your panties still soaked. “But I’m not gonna fuck you.”

Exhaling slowly, relief flooded you. Though you couldn’t help but wonder why he wasn’t trying to take what he wanted. “You won’t?”

“Not tonight.” He shook his head even as his fingers moved along your waist. “Like I said, I’ve overwhelmed you enough. Sleeping with you might really put you over the edge.”

“Thanks.” He desired you, but continued to hold it at bay for your sake. How long would that last? “I appreciate that.”

“And we both know the moment I take you to bed, you’ll be begging for more.” His voice dropped as he toyed with the soft fabric. “And as much as I want to stay in bed with you all night and morning and give us what we both crave, I still need to get things in place at the penthouse and you need rest. You understand.”

You tried not to smile and failed. He acted as if he was doing you a favor. Cocky bastard. “I guess we’ll just have to suffer until then.” Sarcasm continued to be a good way to deflect.

He exhaled at your light teasing, his body still a bit tense. Being close to you and not having you was probably driving him mad. “Maybe we'll have to have another private call and finish what we started. Give us both some relief.” He turned you toward the door and gave you a light swat on your ass. “Go wash your face and brush your teeth before I change my mind.”

You made it to the bathroom in record time, not having to be told twice. You didn’t want to risk staying there in case he lost his resolve. Looking in the mirror as you went through the rest of your nighttime routine, you expected to look more exhausted from the whirlwind of the day. You somehow looked wide awake. Was the experience giving you thicker skin? Or did his desire for you somehow give you a bit of a twisted spark? You’d still be billing him for your future therapy bills either way.

A couple of deep breaths and you made your way back to your bedroom. You paused when you saw Bucky holding a framed photo of you and your friends, longing in his eyes when he lifted his gaze. “You look so happy,” he murmured, carefully setting the frame down on the nightstand before he pulled the blankets back for you. “Can you do me one favor and I’ll go?”

“I was happy. It was a fun day.” You slipped into bed when he gave you space to do so, but his body was still close to yours. Firm. Hard. He really could pin you down and do what he wanted if he wished. “What’s the favor?”

He tucked the blanket around you, his hair falling into his face. You almost reached up to brush it back, but refrained. Who knew what your touch would do? “Look at me like you love me. Please.”

You stiffened as you stared up at his face, your heart simultaneously racing and breaking for him. Love was something that provided a sense of connection, fulfillment. It was a way to show you that you weren’t alone in the world. You wanted to believe you were worthy of love, that you could build a life with someone. Bucky believed he was that someone.

Why?

You weren’t sure if it was his yearning gaze or if you were ready for the night to end, but your expression softened as you imagined meeting him in another life. Going on fun dates, talking about books, making each other laugh as you cooked together, snuggling under a blanket as you talked about your future. You found yourself smiling at the images that went through your mind. What could’ve been. What could be if he lessened his hold a bit on you.

He audibly exhaled when he snapped a photo on his phone, making you blink. “Thank you. Now I can look at this whenever I’m not near you and need to feel your love.”

Words escaped you, the invisible collar around your throat getting tighter. You could only nod and wonder how you kept throwing fuel on the fire of his want for you. Which one of you would burn first?

“Get some sleep. Dream sweet dreams.” You felt featherlight kisses on each eyelid when you shut them. “You know, I’ll sleep a lot easier once you’re in my bed.”

“If you get me into your bed,” you mumbled, refusing to look at him.

“Stubborn kitten.” He chuckled and gave each eyelid one more kiss. Why were his lips so soft? “Maybe I’ll stop by the shop tomorrow so I can take you to lunch. You can tell Addison all about it.”

“Maybe.” You yawned and snuggled more into your pillows. “Good night, Bucky.”

A finger moved along your cheek before it stopped abruptly. “Good night, Kotyonok.”

Bucky still hadn't kissed your mouth.

You didn’t open your eyes as he left, but you didn’t fall asleep right away either. Your body was too wound up. Too many questions went through your mind. Like what happened with his parents and how exactly he’d move you out of your place.

The man was a step ahead in everything. You’d be in his penthouse before the month was over. He’d get his way, but maybe it didn't have to be his way completely. He could give you an area in the place for you and you alone. It wouldn’t hurt to ask. After all, he did say he’d make it up to you by dragging you out tonight.

And if he cared the way he said he did, he could give you that one small thing.

Is our poor Kotyonok starting to accept the inevitable? Will Bucky stop by the shop? And how much longer until he really takes you to bed?Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[hearttodevour]

nobody would believe you're a werewolf.

you're small, helplessly nerdy and anxious like a horse. you might still have no one at college if your extroverted best friend hadn't adopted you. of course you developed a one-sided crush on her. of course.

but nevertheless, when the full moon calls you, every part of you twists and rends, and you run out into the night. You run and you howl your frustration out. Sometimes you chase the deer and bite at the air inches away from them before you let them escape.

one night, you smell a familiar scent, and you follow it. you follow it to your best friend, on a late night jog, earbuds in. wearing just a sports bra. your breath hitches. silently, you follow her, watching between the trees.

would it be so bad to get closer? you wouldn't do anything, not really. you would never hurt her, you couldn't. but she'd just get a little spooked, right?

you pounce. she screams as you push her to the ground. she falls quiet as you nuzzle her cheek and smell her hair, eyes closed.

"ohgodoh-," she says, gasping for breath. "oh god." you lie down on her to feel her body on yours, you lick her face to taste her sweat. you steal those last few moments of closeness before you have to go.

"are you going to fuck me?" she asks, biting her lip. "you can do whatever you want to me."

you freeze. she giggles nervously

"did I make it weird? I hope I didn't make it weird."

you step off her and growl at her. she doesn't know all the things you want to do to her. you should leave, but you can't. but maybe you can scare her off.

"please," she pleads. "um. no blood, no lasting marks not covered by clothes. okay?"

your breathing goes shallow. you've already done something you weren't supposed to. what's a little more?

you move closer, sniffing her body. you can smell smell how wet she is. you draw your paw down her exposed midriff, eyes locked to hers, down to her waistline, claws catching on her shorts. she eagerly helps you strip her naked. you press your pseudopenis against her stomach, and she lets out a whimper.

(you don't know why female werewolves have pseudopenises when that's more of a hyena thing. you never really expected it to come up)

you push it in, and press your body on her soft skin. you've never done this before, as a wolf or a human, but let your instinct, your hunger guide you. she's warm under you. she's warm around you. you rock your hips, sliding inside her, your breath hot on her ear.

her breathing changes and she grabs onto your fur. you lick her lips (does it count as your first kiss?), you lick her neck, you caress her breasts with your tongue. she lets out such cute little noises that make you want to squeeze her like a plushie.

you find the rhythm that suits you, and you push harder. you feel the sensation building up, your back arches and your breaths get heavier. she is loud now, and you know it's your doing, and you relish in it.

all too easily, you slip over the edge and let out a long howl as the euphoria floods you. you slump over to your side, surprised to find your crush still attached to you, the pseudopenis engorged and stuck inside her. she doesn't seem surprised. in fact she's smiling as she finishes herself off, not even an inch from you. she yelps and her knee digs into your thigh.

she nuzzles to your chest and you hold her there until the stuckness releases. you make sure she gets back to the city streets safe, watching from the trees. you run and you run. you find a herd of deer. you chase down a straggler.

this time, you bite into its neck, and you taste its warm blood.

Part 1

Part 2

[webslingingslasher]

i hope work gets better<3 how's frat!peter doing today😚

frat!peter is struggling today and here’s why::

peter isn’t sure what went down tonight but you’re in his bed. any other time it would be a celebration but since it’s been a few months since you’ve been there, his head is spinning.

‘um, hello?’ it goes unanswered. it’s not surprising, it’s almost three in the morning and you look asleep.

peter doesn’t know what to do but he’s tired. you wouldn’t sleep in his room without knowing there was a chance of him finding you and crawling in next to you, right?

right?

‘i’m gonna sleep in here too so if you have a problem with it…’

fuck it. he strips to his boxers and gets into bed as quietly as he can, molding around you and doing his best to keep his own space. it’s hard when he joined you while you’re star fishing.

peter gently tugs at the blanket, keeping an eye on your face for any changes. escaping into the warmth, peter hears you let out a quiet hum. he’s scared to breathe, scooting until his back is barely hanging over the edge of the bed.

you hitch your side of the blanket over your shoulder and roll to your back. peter wasn’t quick enough and you land on his arm, your face scrunches and it’s all over. licking your lips, you reach under you- the second you touch his skin, your eyes open and peter throws his hand over your mouth. he can hear the scream before you let it out.

‘it’s just me, it’s just me. you’re fine.’

you have an opposite reaction, flying up and scurrying away from him, pulling the blankets with you.

‘what the fuck are you doing here?’ peter could ask you the same thing but you might take that as a complaint and trust him, he’s not complaining.

‘you’re in my bed.’ you look around like you’ve been pranked, or like you’ve woken up at three am in a panic. ‘because you weren’t supposed to be here!’

‘i-‘ it’s peter’s turn to be confused, he knows why he wasn’t going to be there. but why do you? ‘how did you know that?’

‘ethan said you were at may’s! i wanted to have a sleepover but his white noise machine was too loud.’ ethan set up a really nice bed for you, he splurged on the best air mattress he could find but you couldn’t deal with rainforest sounds. water? fine. birds chirping? you left an hour in.

‘so you stole my bed?’ out of all the couches, you picked his bed. there might be hope after all. ‘you weren’t supposed to come back, you were supposed to sleep at may’s!’

‘i came back early, sorry to ruin your plan.’ you look out his windows, all you can see is the glow of light posts. you look for your phone and baulk at the time.

‘why the hell are you making that trek at three in the morning?’ peter smiles, you notice where you messed up. ‘nope. don’t care, go sleep in ethan’s room.’

‘what? no way, you go sleep in ethan’s room.’ you tried. and failed. ‘i can’t. i tried turning it off and he got mad at me.’

‘and you think he’d be nice to me? yeah, right.’ you pout, ‘no but you’re nice to me and you’ll take my place for me.’

adorable. and it’s not gonna happen.

‘no. either you go back in there and tough it out or you accept defeat and sleep next to me.’

you have a staring contest. if this was anything else, peter would do it to make you happy but he’s got a chance at the best sleep he’s had in months and he’s not letting it go.

you cross your arms and huff, peter uses the opportunity to claim his space. he might bully you into sleeping next to him but he won’t force you into a cuddle. but if you want one… he’ll make it the best one you’ve ever had.

‘peter!’ you whine and he won. you slump next to him and make a point to shuffle away. ‘you better not touch me.’

‘you’re in my bed.’

you sit up to grab a pillow, ‘i’ll sleep on your floor and never shut up about it.’ peter backs down real fast, there’s no way he’d let you hang that over his head.

‘no touching. got it.’ you make sure there’s nothing else- no grin or shiny eyes to give away he’s lying.

‘oh, and if anyone asks, you snuck in. i didn’t allow this.’

[milykins]

One More Night

I felt inspired by @justalotoffanfiction who wrote a Bayverse Raph story based on Mr. Brightside, so I thought I'd try my hand writing something based on a different song, One More Night by Maroon 5.

TW: Angst, Abuse toward Raph, verbal and physical, swearing and mentions of sex.

*Aged up characters

*Bayverse Raph × Reader

*HEA ending guaranteed

Special thanks to @avery73 for beta-reading!

Even the strongest of us can fall victim to this type of treatment. Raphael was no exception.

SLAP!

The sound reverberated off of the paper-thin walls in the tiny apartment. She was hitting him again. She was always angry at him for some reason. Why the hell was he here again? Oh, yeah, because she wanted to fuck him. This was always the reason.

He got a little bit of satisfaction seeing her shake her hand after slapping him, though it did nothing to quell her seemingly burning hatred toward him. If anything, she looked more enraged that his skin was so tough.

“You ASSHOLE! You think you can come and go as you please?! I’ve been waiting for you for hours!” She was screaming at him because his patrol had gone longer than it normally would, and she did not like to be kept waiting.

He knew this, and he should care, but he didn't. This… ‘thing’ they’d had going on had been well-established for months, but any time something went awry or didn’t go according to plan, she exploded. It’s not like she could really hurt him… slapping, hitting, throwing things at him. It didn’t really matter. That’s what he tried to tell himself, to make excuses for her behaviour because, on the other hand, being with her had resulted in some of the hottest sex imaginable. That’s why he kept coming back. That’s why they both kept coming back.

It still made him angry though. Fucking bitch.

“FUCKING FINE! I’ll just fucking GO THEN.” He meant it and whirled around to leave.

“Don’t you take another step Raphael.” She snapped; her voice deadly low. “Get the hell over here.”

He should leave. He should shut this down right now and never come here again. They both knew that this wasn’t healthy, but he couldn’t stop coming.

And she knew it.

Moments later he’d spanned the length of the room and had her pressed tightly against the wall, kissing her ravenously, his hand fisted in her hair. She was just as desperate, hands clawing at him, trying to remove his clothes, and throwing his weapons to the ground. As hot as that was, he’d never liked how she had no respect for them or cared about how dangerous they were. All she had cared about was getting what she wanted.

In the aftermath, he laid in her bed staring at the ceiling hating himself. She was deeply asleep beside him blissfully unaware of his conflicting feelings. She’d apologize of course in her moments of clarity, even promise that next time she’d be nicer, gentler. She never kept that promise.

Quietly, as only a ninja could, he dressed, retrieved his weapons, tucking them safely into his belt and left. He felt like such an idiot. He needed to stop fucking doing this. He knew his brothers and their father were worried about him but he shut down anytime anyone tried to ask him about it. The only one who had any idea of what was going on was Casey.

“Dude, she sounds fucking awful, why do you keep going there?”

“Cuz she’s hot and the sex is amazing.”

“No pussy is worth this, man. She’s slapping the shit out of you every time you go.”

“’s fine, it doesn’t really hurt me any.”

“Maybe not physically, but it ain’t great for your head.”

“I’m fine.”

They’d left it at that; but as time went on, he was slowly coming to the realization Casey was right. This wasn’t good for him but he kept going back. He needed to stop; he needed a reason to cut ties with her for good.

You ended up being that reason.

You’d been best friends throughout your teens and had lost touch after the two of you had met your respective partners. Your relationship had ended disastrously with him cheating on you with a ‘friend’ of yours. Immediately, you cut ties and burned those bridges with both of them. Now single, your thoughts had turned back to Raph. You wondered how he was doing and hoped he was happy. You wished the two of you could reconnect and catch up, but you were afraid he’d forgotten all about you.

It's funny how life works sometimes. One Saturday night, you heard glass breaking in the apartment below you. You had just moved in and had groaned when you realized there was probably a loud argumentative couple living below you now. Hearing more noise and muffled yelling prompted you to go to your balcony to see what was going on. You figured you could call the police if it got really bad and you were just a tiny bit nosy.

Nothing could’ve prepared you for what you saw and heard.

“You’re fucking crazy! I’m done. WE’RE FUCKING DONE! I ain’t never coming back here!” It was Raph, it was unmistakably his voice. You’d know it anywhere.

Craning your neck over the side of your balcony you looked far as you could and saw him. The poor guy looked like a wreck. There was red liquid and bits of broken glass all down his front. From what you could see, it appeared to be remnants of a glass of wine. You could assume that it had been hurled at him along with the entire bottle it looked like.

“Don’t you fucking walk out on me, Raphael! GET BACK HERE!” The woman who’d thrown those things was screaming at him but he wasn’t turning back.

It was only when you heard the screen door slam shut that you dared call out to him. “Raph?”

He heard you, how could he not? Seconds later, he was swinging himself up to your balcony, whispering your name in surprise and looking ashamed at his appearance. He hurriedly brushed any remaining pieces of glass to the floor. “Wh-what are you doing here?”

“I just moved here.” Unable to stop yourself, you reached to grab his arm but stopped when you saw him physically tense up. What had happened to him? He used to be so strong in your eyes, and now he looked afraid to have you touch him.

Slowly, as if you were approaching a scared animal, you gently pulled him inside. You couldn’t help but notice that he just looked so angry and… broken.

“Are you okay?” You knew your concern was valid since he was quiet a long moment before answering.

“…I’m fine.” He was lying to you, and he hated himself for doing that. He regretted it the moment those two words left his lips.

Sucking in a breath you gently grabbed those huge biceps of his and met his troubled gaze. God, you’d missed those piercing green eyes of his. “You’re not fine Raph… you’re covered in wine and…” You looked at his face, studying it more. “Does she… hit you?”

He turned away in shame as he tensed. “Doesn’t hurt none…”

You narrowed your gaze, your own anger rising up as you gave those arms a squeeze. “How often is she hitting you, Raph…?” Again, when he doesn’t answer right away your tone and your grip become harder. “How. Often?”

He spoke so quietly you almost don’t hear it. “A lot…” If he’s finally admitting it to someone, it should be you.

A lump was quickly forming in your throat as you realized what had been going on. What kind of relationship he’d been dealing with. Why he was so tense and unsure. How unhealthy it was and why you hadn’t heard from him in so long.

“Raph… that’s… abuse. She’s abusing you.” You whispered these words because it hurt you to say them any louder. You knew Raph would never lay a hand against a woman, but you never expected him to be on the receiving end of this kind of thing.

His first instinct was to argue against that. He bristled as he backed away out of your grasp, walls of defense shooting in place as he tried to deny it. That was ridiculous! Him being abused.

“No it ain’t! I’d know if I was… that’s fucking ridiculous!” He’d curled his hands into large fists, his shoulders hunched and slightly shaking with his denial.

You can feel him practically vibrating with humiliation and uncertainty. You say nothing more as you go to him and start gently rubbing his shell. You’d done this often for him when you both were younger. The action was soothing to him whenever he was angry and upset about something. When you finally felt him relax, you moved around to his front, hugging him tightly. A few tears slip down your cheeks, adding to the wine stains on his red hoodie. You felt absolutely broken for him.

“Please don’t say you’re fine Raph… not to me…” You attempted to swallow the lump and keep your tears at bay. “It’s okay… It’s okay to admit this is happening to you, and it’s okay to leave…” You choked out a sob. “It’s okay… to not be okay. I’m here for you.”

That was it. Finally, finally, the walls fall down as his arms came around you holding you so tight you could barely breathe. He’d been living a lie for so long, spent too many months with this appalling treatment, but seeing you, hearing that was all it took. The dam broke; he buried his face into your shoulder, shaking slightly as he finally allowed himself to break.

He was crying, you realized as he quietly sobbed, his own tears joining yours as you cried together. “It’s okay, big guy…” you choked out. “It’s gonna be okay…” You rubbed his shell as best you could, being an anchor for him in his time of need.

When he finally looked up, you could see his mask was damp, his expression vulnerable and unsure accompanied with shaky breaths. You suddenly had the urge to kiss him. Where had that come from? You two were just friends… right? Plus, this wasn’t the right time… he needed to get his head right and recover. You shook the thought away and took his hand, guiding him to your couch. “Take that off.” You softly ordered. “I’ll wash it.”

Too exhausted to fight or argue, he listened and removed both his red mask and hoodie. Gently, you took them and threw both items into your washing machine with laundry soap and oxyclean. Hopefully, that would be enough to remove the wine stains.

He relaxed into your couch and called for you. “C’mere.” The request was soft yet held a note of urgency. When you approached, he reached for you and pulled you onto his lap. “Jus’ wanna hold you,” he murmured, needing your comfort and closeness, something he’d been severely lacking in for a long time.

It was easy to melt into his embrace and wrap your arms around him in return. “I gotcha big guy…”

He held you quietly for a long time, just breathing in your scent and taking in your soft energy. This was the turning point, the sign he’d needed to make a permanent change in his life and cut that toxic woman out of his life. He hadn’t felt like he had the strength to do it previously, but with your support, now he did.

“Thank you… for bein’ here…”

“I’ll always be here for you Raph…”

True to his word, he’d made good on his decision to completely cut ties with her. There had been even more yelling and items being thrown at him, but he was done. Once he’d made up his mind, that was it. He was one hundred percent DONE. She didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell to come back from it.

You were there waiting for him when he told you the news and were so happy and relieved or him. His brothers, in turn, were also relieved with Mikey even calling to thank you for being there for his big brother.

He visited you regularly, now having a much better reason to go to that same apartment building. The two of you slowly reconnected and started making up for lost time. You were a crucial part of his recovery and ended up being a major element in his support system. The feelings you had toward him from that fateful night had only grown stronger, but you wouldn’t act on them. You couldn’t, not until he was fully healed.

Raph had been realizing how wrong he’d been to let you go and had vowed to make it up to you. It was little things at first, stopping by after patrols with pizza, sending you a random meme that he hoped would make you laugh, and bringing you your favourite latte in the mornings. He was slowly coming to terms with how much he had missed this and how much he had missed you. This is what a healthy relationship looked like, and he felt like a fool for not seeing it earlier.

It was a few months later that it had finally hit him over the head that what he’d needed and what he truly wanted had been right in front of him all along. He saw you, and when he’d nervously confessed his feelings, he’d been absolutely elated when you’d told him you felt the same way.

That first kiss you two shared had been the pinnacle of his journey to healing.

Afterwards, you’d held him close and whispered these words.

“No one will ever hurt you again.”

Because you would make sure of it.

The End

@danceingfae @thelaundrybitch @iridescentflamingo @redsrooftopprincess @ninnosaurus @the-cauldron-witch @thepinkpanther83 @avery73 @adebauchedsloth @sophiacloud28 @definitely-canon @scholastic-dragon @truffle-reblogs

[threepandas]

After The War: Foxx Hunting (Prev <-)

"Commander."

On anyone else, the tone would suggest simple statement. But there was a lilt. A slight inflection, I had long learned to spot, at the end of the word. That made it a greeting. A call. Monotone filled with subtle, near untraceable mocking.

"Tired of running yet, Commander? Or do you want to struggle more? You can, if you want. I can let you. We have time. After all, it really won't change much. There's no where you can go."

Head tilted ever so slightly, at an almost an invisible angle. Posture, military perfect, impossibly so. That perfection bought with pain, torture, born out of brutal necessity. His lips quirked, in an amused curl. At just that same, impossibly slight amount. Too small and indistinct for his tormentors to notice. To take from him.

Just enough to stay human, I had thought. Too stay sane, I had hoped.

I was wrong.

My biggest mistake hunted me. Had all the power in the GALAXY now, to hunt me. All the time he could ever dream, in which to do so. And it was all my fault. Me. It had to be. I... I was the only thing that changed. Tried to make things... things BETTER!

How arrogant. Hubristic. Who the fuck was I? To think I had the RIGHT, to shape and change the fate of an entire GALAXY to my whims? I didn't even know the story. Had been GUESSING, based off STAR WARS. So... so fucking confident. A-and what did that get me? Oh god. O-Oh god!

The blaster burns on my arms and legs screamed, as I forced myself up, one more time. Always, please god, always! J-just one more time! Don't give out on me yet. Not.. not until we are safe. Then. Then! We can cry. Howl and weep, break down and scream.

(My fault. My Fault. MY FAUL-)

None of the characters were an exact match. People were and weren't where they should be. Plots happened out of sequence or not at all. So why? WHY? Did I believe so hard in the Clones? IS it because I loved, still LOVE, the Vode? Did that trust transfer? That emotional connection? Was I tricked? Or was I just a fool? Does it MATTER in the end? If the result is the same?

I brought a monster, straight to Power.

Now they're dead. All my brothers, my sisters, my mentors and friends. Dead, dead, DEAD! Glowing weapons on the ground and a temple filled with DEATH. D-Did the nurseries get out? Please, oh god, let the children have survived my mistake.

Blood stains my robes. Only a tiny fraction of it, is mine.

Sticky and slick, oily and so many colors. The blood does not mix. Too many species, too much ash from the air. If I do not clean or remove it soon? I am likely to get chemical burns, from the reactions developing on the cloth. But again and again. My mistake finds me. A pursuit predator. Intent on wearing me down.

"How long will you try, Commander? You know just as well as I do, that I can afford to wait you out. You'll drop eventually." His tone was so mild, even as his words were horrifying. Overhead, a transport kept steady pace, as I desperately ran from commandos on the streets. "How many days has it been without proper rest? Rations? To stop and think? We've survived far worse then this, Commander. For far longer. We can endure, can you?"

I pull my magic around me, through my screaming legs, to fling myself across a jump they shouldn't be able to make.

Despair surges, as behind me... I hear jetpacks. Ah. They've gotten better gear, at long last. E-Everything I've ever wished for them. Gear and food and safety, at long last! A-At long last. I have to laugh, hysterical and afraid. I just... I just never thought my wish? Would be fulfilled for the purpose of hunting me down.

(I'm so tired. Please, god. No more. Let it stop. Let this nightmare END!)

Jumping, I land in a roll on a level several floors down. The impact is ugly. Agony on my burns and bruises. I may have not taken any direct hits? But those glancing strikes? Still leave marks. Trails of seared, blistering, blaster burns. Like tiger strips. As though you hade been struck, by whip made of fire. Not to mention the concussion grenades.

Yeah, half way through the attack, the Clones had stumbled. Either broken free of the Not Sith's control or come to their senses, deciding to switch to non-lethal weapons. Probably trying to go for the capture instead of the kill. But given the sheer variety of the Knights? One Being's sedative was another's lethal toxin. And the gas attacks...

I... I'm still not even sure if... if Master Rim'Llahiy survived long enough, to get to the healers. The seizures were BAD. He... he didn't deserve that. All he'd ever done, was keep the gardens. Live a quite life. T...Try to defend his home.

Around me, as I run, screens light up. Somehow, I'm the focal point. I... I don't know how he's doing this. It has to be Sketch or Gear, one of the Slicers. Who else could hack into so many systems so easily? The... the knowledge that they're helping him? That everyone of the Guard is HELPING him hunt me? I feel sick.

Was any of it real? Was I friends with ANY of them? Or... Or was I just them happy little slave master, patting myself on the back, because I didn't beat them, unlike the others? Aren't I gracious. Don't you just love me? Say thank you for my grace. Let me feel good about my self! My pretty little charity of the day! Before I skip back off to fairy land! Leaving you all in hell.

Do I deserve this? I... I have to deserve this... right?

Even though I tried. Even though I fought and fought and FOUGHT. Even when that Not A Sith BASTARD tried to kill me at every turn, just to shut me the fuck up, and I WOULDN'T. Because they deserved to be free. Because it was WRONG. Because we took VOWS, remember? Days and days, convincing and campaigning.

I have to... to somehow, deserve this. Because? B-because if I DON'T?

Then What Have I DONE?

City levels and blocks blur together. I couldn't tell you where on this god forsaken ecumenopolis I am anymore. But the others! The others have gotten off planet by now. Surely... surely! They have escaped! Right? They HAVE too. I-It HAS to have been worth it. Becoming bait. M-making myself a target. This... this one last time?

It.. it was WORTH it. Right? Right?!

Please! Please god! Let it have been WORTH IT!!

I skid around a corner. Too tight, not judging it right in my panic, my shoulder clipping the wall hard. Scraping flesh through my robes. Just more bruises and hurt to add to the pile. I don't slow. Can't slow. Feel it but push the pain away. The crash later will be ugly, when I release the magics flowing through me. When the adrenaline fades. But... but either I will live to endure it? Or it will not matter at all.

Too late, though, I see the trap.

I have been corralled. Like a a sheep from my first life, harried by dogs into a pen. Tricked into a corner. No where left to go. The platform I thought was a street? Was an alley between two buildings, leading to a third. A perfect little killbox with only one way out. I stumble, horrified, as I register the truth too late. Spin, already knowing it's too late to double back. But hoping... HOPING....!

Jetpacks. The commando squadron of the guards, touching down at the entrance, a solid line of armor and skill. Better weapons, jet packs, upgraded armor. They... they even seem rested. For the first time in years.

A stark reversal. Now it is I, who is barely holding on. Now I am the one, who has been ground to dust, by the exhaustion of fighting without end. Of running and running. No real food and no real rest. No medicine. No help coming. I want to laugh, scream, weep. So it's to be poetic justice, is it?

But I can not give in.

Forgive me. But I can not, WILL NOT give in. Body exhausted, I draw my blade. The plasma humming as the magics charge. The alleyway fills with light. I took Vows. Owe my soul to the Galaxy and it's people. Regardless of Regime, I have service I must complete. And to do that? I have to be alive.

(I don't care, that they took over. Let them have it. But how could you? How COULD YOU?! The Temple was my home. I am a hypocrite. Here, at the end, I must face that. And now I know it to be true.)

The ship over head dips lower, kicking up a hurricane of wind. My robes whip around me, but I do not move from my opening stance. Ready, not ready, but resigned to it none the less. The Commandos are a silent wall as, from above, a rip cord descends. Clipped to it? Marshall Commander... no, Supreme Commander Foxx.

The Clones newly elected Emperor.

A man I THOUGHT was my friend.

He looked nothing like Commander Fox of the Vode. Hair too long and curling. Face deceptively young looking and boyish. Non regulation piercing hidden under the helmet all Guards wore, day in and day out. They hadn't been able to customize their armor like the others. So they customized themselves.

He wasn't in armor, now. It was somehow worse. The dress uniform an affront, a reminder, like a curse of broken glass. I... I hadn't even known he owned such a thing. It made sense, given his old position. Yet, somehow... somehow? I doubted this was the uniform he had been given. It looked... looked Regal.

"Are we done, now? Got it out of your system? Or should one of us put you on the ground first? Grind your face right against the filthy floor?"

His voice was mild as ever, as he calmly unclipped himself, let the cord retract. He tucked his hands behind his back. Strolled forward with measured steps, assessing eyes, like a general examining untested troops. Picking me apart for weakness, looking for openings in my stance. Injuries on my body. I had seen him do this before. Just... just never thought... it'd be used... a-against me. (How arrogant, I had been.)

"This can stop at any time, Commander. All you have to do? Is stop running. You don't have to worry anymore. I'm not going to hurt you. We're not going to hurt you. You've struggled long enough, don't you think? It's time to be done. To come home. Be taken care off. That's all we want to do, Darling. Commander."

"Surely you can see, that it's BETTER this way? No more war. No more Knights on sabotaged missions. Diplomats to war zones. Children where they shouldn't BE. The Order can be SAFE now. YOU can be safe now. Loved and precious as you always should have been. It's okay now, Commander. Come here. It's okay..."

Foxx's eyes blazed with conviction. They had been brown, like his brothers. They... oh god, they SHOULD have been brown. But as I stared into his face, at those unfamiliar eyes on what should be so familiar a form? Red stared back. The red, Red, RED, of the Fallen.

Foxx had been... had been Energy Sensitive. The Cloners had fucking LIED, when they said it wasn't possible. I had always suspected. Didn't dare bring attention to it. Didn't want my friend to be... to be KILLED. Experimented on. I should have trained him. Done more.

Desperate people will reach for anything, to stop themselves from drowning. And the Dark offers such tempting things. Vengeance and Power. Freedom, no matter the cost. It pays sweetly then corrupts slow. There is always a cost.

I can not risk it.

Shifting my weight to my front leg, in preparation to surge forward, I never get the chance. A two fold thwip! And sharp pinch in my upper arm. I got the first. But the second... a? Dart? No. NO! Panicked, I flood my body with the magics meant to purge drugs and... instantly the world spins. I have somehow just made it worse. W-what?

"Confiscated from slavers, 'bout five months back. It's a high end drug." The Commando with the dart gun said, as though commentingon the weather. "Fairly new, too. Made to react specifically to the Cosmic Energies. Our esteemed Chancellor, may he rot as he deserves, had them developed through several shell companies."

"Really wish you hadn't done that, Commander. Cause, see, the side effects? Are pretty nasty." Foxx commented. Various helmets nodded, the guards body language sympathetic but lacking any remorse. What ever it took to bring me in. To make me Safe.

"Now you're going to be sick for a while. But on the other hand? You are a stubborn one. So maybe this'll give you time to think, hmm? Time to enjoy the pampering a bit. You'll get used to it, learn to be good for me. I know you. You're a smart girl."

My legs couldn't hold me anymore. Despite struggling, I couldn't keep my blade at the ready. Helplessly, I watched as he watched forward. Used a single finger, on the hilt, to push my blade to the side. The lightest of tugs, stealing it from me entirely. At long last, the tears came. I... I was scared. Really, really scared. P-please... Foxx, please...

"Hunts over, Commander. It's time to stop running. You've lost."

"But, that? That's okay. You can lose now. Be weak. Wretched and pathetic and flawed. You don't have to be perfect any more, Commander. I've got you. You're Mine. Ours. Perfect, just the way you are. And today?"

"Today is the start of the rest of your new life, Commander."

"Welcome to the Empire."

[holidayinhell]

Interview

CWs: references to noncon, violence

1. Would you rather - Rope or Chains?

R: Rope.

W: Chains, dear god, chains any day. Ropes fucking burn.

2. If Whumpee had multiple Whumpers, who is their favourite? For Whumpers, which Whumpee was your favourite?

R: Yeah, I’ve got a favorite. A couple years back I had a Whumpee who fought me at every turn. He'd throw his food at me, cuss me out, and try to attack me. One time he scratched absolute shit outta my arms. Anyways, I got tired of his shitty attitude and decided to kill him. I didn't keep it a secret, I told him he was gonna die. But when I went in to do it, he changed completely. No more screaming, no spark in his eye. He got quiet. Heh, he got all lovey dovey with me even. You know, lots of people say they’ll do anything if only you’ll spare their life. I never did cash in on that promise, but on this Whumpee, I put it to the fucking test. Heh. He let me do whatever I wanted to him. Depraved, horrible things, that would make the most degenerate man blush. Heh, and even though he was crying through most of it, he still pretended to like everything I did to him. And god. You should’ve seen his eyes when I told him I was still gonna kill him. That look. I think about it still.

W: I can’t. glances over at Whumper. Next question please.

3: In your opinion, what is the best way to train a pet?

R: Humans are fickle fucking beasts. You have to break down someone’s pride in order to train them. I start off with food deprivation, that usually helps me gauge what kind of fight I’m in for.

W: Positive reinforcement has always worked for me… I’ve only ever had a pet bearded dragon though.

4: Broken ribs or bullet wound? 

R: Both.

W: These questions are uncomfortable to answer. But, uh, bullet wound I guess. Assuming it didn’t graze any organs.

5: Preferred type of gag? 

R: I like a fabric gag. Or a simple piece of duct tape. Sometimes they come off and I get to squeeze a little scream out of Whumpee, and then I put a fresh one right back on. I kinda like the cycle of it.

W: I don’t have a preference… none? I guess the metal bit one isn't the worst of them. It hurts my teeth but at least I can still kinda breathe.

6: Burned or stabbed?

R: Stabbed.

W: Stabbed, I guess?

7: Favourite stress position? 

R: An old-fashioned hogtie. I guess I’m unimaginative but I don’t get too crazy into the BDSM shit. Who has the patience for that?

W: Uhh.. just, handcuffs behind my back. Something relatively comfortable.

8: Have you given or received any Brands? What do they signify?

R: Heh. No. Never been branded. I certainly have had my fun branding Whumpee though.

W: I… have two… Uhm. One on my chest that, thank Christ, is almost all the way healed. It said, uh, swine. The other one is on my back, it’s a lot worse. I don’t know what it says but I can feel it so it’s um, it’s here to stay, I guess.

R: It says Nice Try. Remember?

W: Not really.

R: From your second half-hearted escape attempt. Didn't realize you forgot. But I did hit you pretty fucking hard that night.

9: Broken arm or broken leg? 

R: Leg.

W: Arm. A million times, arm.

10: How did you get here? Why are you the way that you are?

R: I live here. Far as I know, I’ve always been 'like this'-- whatever the hell that means. And I don’t see a problem with it. We’re all free to do as we like, so that’s what I fucking do.

W: I dunno. I, I was outside, it was dark and I think it was raining…yeah… heading home from the bar. I didn’t drink that much. I didn’t live that far, either, so the rain wasn’t a problem. I remember falling down and then… I woke up here. And I’ve been here ever since.

11: What is your biggest regret?

R: I wish this Whumpee could’ve learned a thing or two from my defiant Whumpee in the second question you asked. I wanna get my dick sucked like that every fucking night.

W: Regrets... yeah, I've got a few. One stands out. It was late at night, Whumper didn't tie me up. I snuck out of my cell and I made it to the steps. Almost to the top, nearly all the way out. The door was unlocked and cracked open a little, I thought I could make a run for it and—

R: —I was waiting for you at the top. Heh. I wanted to see if you'd run, and you sure tried to. Not so much after that, though.

12: Is there a line you won’t cross? For Whumpee, what do you most fear Whumper might do?

R: A line I wouldn’t cross? Uhhh…. No. No, I don’t think so. I’ll cross any fucking line. turns to Whumpee, grinning. So what are you afraid of, Whumpee?

W: I, um. Does he really have to be here when I answer these questions?

R: Tell them, Whumpee.

W: Can I whisper it to you? (he’s already done so much to me, so fucking much… it’s dumb but I don’t want him to shave my head.)

R: smirks. You know I heard that.

13: What lessons have you taken away from your experience?

R: Everything has been the same old, same old for me. Guess this Whumpee’s lasted longer than the rest of ‘em. He’s coming up on a year soon. Kind of impressive he’s stuck around this long and hasn’t given me a reason to kill him yet.

W: I don’t know. I do what I’m told so I can eat. I take it day by day. I guess the lesson I’ve learned is that abandoning pride is the only way to survive…

14: Whip or cane?

R: Whip.

W: Yeah. Whip.

R: Didn’t expect you to say that. Noted.

15: Drugged or coherent?

R: Depends on the situation. Drugging them is useful for transport but I don’t much like it when they’re too dazed to understand what’s happening. Sometimes they fall asleep, too.

W: Drug me any fucking day. I don’t care. I’ll take whatever you have.

16: What are your true, honest feelings about each other? Is there some part of you that cares for the other at all?

R: Sometimes I like to touch him. He’s warm and it’s funny when he tries to squirm away. Plus I like it when he begs me to stop. But do I care about him? …eh. Sure, sorta. He’s my plaything.

W: Erm. Thanks, I guess. For me… Whumper is the reason I’m here. I guess I’m appreciative for the food… but he does hurt me. A lot. Constantly.

R: You're very welcome.

17: What is your favourite thing about the other? A personality trait, a physical feature, anything

R: He’s got pretty hair. A kind of pretty face, too. Yeah, almost like a girl. Heh. And he makes good sounds when he’s screaming.

W: Ah. Fuck. I really don’t know how to answer this…

R: Come on. What’s your favorite part?

W: Um. Well, I'll say this: Whumper is smart. Scary smart. I don’t think anyone would ever imagine how smart. I don’t know. I don’t. It’s… terrifying.

18: Do you have relationships outside of each other? Friends, family - if yes, do they know about Whumpee? Do they care?

R: Yes, yes, and no.

W: I have a half sister in, uh, Arkansas. We’re not close, obviously… used to have friends I guess, but it’s been a long time since I saw them…

19: What other hobbies do/did you have?

R: Video games. 

W: I used to play saxophone. A lifetime ago.

20: For Whumper, is there any chance you’ll let Whumpee go? For Whumpee, have you ever thought about life after you’re free?

R: No. Sorry. Realistically, it doesn’t make sense to ‘let him go.’

W: I, uh, I used to think about it. I don't anymore… like he said.. realistically it doesn’t make any sense.

R: Mm. Good answer, Whumpee.

------------------------

this interview uses the questions from Character Ask Game post by @inhurtandincomfort !! thanks homie!

((more Whump))

[planetpedri]

hey diva… just give me anything with torres and lowkey… make it ansgty

Better than this — Fernando Torres.

Pairing: Fernando Torres x Fem!Reader

Summary: All he wanted was you, but you were certain he could find someone to treat him better than you ever could.

Word count: 740+

Disclaimer/s: angst , arguing , hopeful ending

A/N: I hope this made you happy beautiful, @ar4ujos ^_^ I luh you.

Knocking and knocking and knocking. “Baby open the door.” Fernando pleads, his head resting against the wooden frame. You’d locked yourself in your bedroom after he’d.. oh God. Even thinking about it made you nauseous.

He had, in simple terms, confessed his very real feelings for you. At first, when he’d started hanging out with you more, taking you out on ‘dates’—not that you’d let him call them that, it was fine. It wasn’t serious or anything, just the both of you having fun.

“Fer, go away.” You groan, head tipping back against the bed frame. You sat on the cold wooden floor of your bedroom, trying to collect your thoughts. He deserved better than you! Why wouldn’t he just go away?

“I’m not..” His voice grows quiet. “Listen, I know it scares you, I know you don’t like relationships, but please. I want—I need you.”

You wanted to believe that, you did. But your brain was practically screaming ‘danger! Danger! Danger!’ He didn’t deserve to be locked in a relationship with a girlfriend who would constantly overthink. You had too much baggage and the blonde did not deserve that.

“Baby, open the fucking door.” He says through gritted teeth. “Please, if you’re going to break it off, I need to you say it to my face.”

Reluctantly, and against everything your brain was telling you to do, you stand up and shuffle toward the door. You unlock it, opening it just enough to poke your head through. Then you see his face, that beautiful.. no.

Blinking slowly, you chew on your cheek. “Okay. I—“ You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t say it. You couldn’t tell him to go.

“You…?”

“I, uhm.. Can you not look me in the eye when I say this?” You huff, eyes diverting to his shaggy blonde hair. Lord, his hair. Memories of your fingers threading through the blonde locks flooded your mind. You did not want to break anything off, but you had to.

“No.” He stays firm, shaking his head. “And, open the door all the way. If you really didn’t want this, you’d be able to say it to my face.”

“I am?” You scowl at his hair. “You make my life so difficult.”

Fernando nods. “I’m sure I do.”

“And you are insufferable, and very, very! Annoying. You also—“ Your brain short circuits. Why was he looking at your lips? “Stop that. Now. I’m trying to get you out of my life.”

“Are you really? You’re not trying very hard.”

Oh.

Your face flattens. “You’re proving all the points i’ve been making.” You point out, which unfortunately had a smug look forming on Fernando’s freckled face. “I want you to—“

You couldn’t speak. You almost said something wrong, something the complete opposite of what you’d been trying to say.

His eyebrows raise, beckoning for you to continue. When you don’t, his previous grin falters. He says your name quietly, concern etched into every syllable.

“Sorry, I, uhm,” you shake your head. Get a grip! You could give in, or slam the door in his face again, but you don’t. Instead, you scratch the side of your head. “Okay, clearly I don’t know what I’m trying to say. But, Fer, you don’t deserve this—me. You should be with someone who can provide for you exactly what you need.”

“But you are what I need.” He furrows his eyebrows, his head rolling to the side. “Why can’t you just give this—us.. a chance?”

You had never been so irritated and appalled by someone in your life. And you were thankful. Because his words only made you want to believe him, despite the part of you that couldn’t. The fact of the matter was, he was giving you hope, and hope is dangerous. But what is life if not decades of risks?

“One date. One real date. Then, I will think on it.” You finally give in, rolling your eyes at the way his face lit up.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t make me regret this.” You point at his chest, your pointer finger digging into it. Fernando smiles, his hand wrapping around your wrist, pulling it away, but still keeping a hold on it.

Fernando beams at you, “I promise you won’t.” A short pause, “does this mean I have to leave?”

You think for a moment before taking a step back into your bedroom, dragging him with you. “I suppose not.”

likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in future posts.

DTS , @halfwayhearted @ar4ujos @joaosfelix @hrts4havertz @spidybaby !

[theonlymanny]

Bruce’s oldest son

You’ve been with your father Bruce since he was 22. At this time Bruce thought you were an error and sometimes tried to get rid of you. If it weren’t for Alfred you would’ve been in an orphanage.

You turned 14 when Bruce came back from his training he tried to talk to you be a better father then he was In the past. You didn’t respond why? Were you supposed to forget what happened? Hell no.

Now when he became Batman he told you, he trusted you with his life. He wanted for you a good future. You gave him an opportunity and helped him while he was fighting crime of course you couldn’t fight like he could, but you could make gadgets for him. Like the electrified batarang.

Once you met Bruce’s first adopted son Dick you wanted to be the best older brother. Teaching him a lot of stuff and created for him (against your will) gadgets that would help him and Bruce fight crime together. You did feel left behind, watching Bruce and the kid that he just knew have a stronger connection makes you feel jealous.

A couple of years later you met Jason your second youngest brother who was a pain in the ass. You tried to get close to him he would yell at you. Talk to him he would try to punch you and it was like that since he became a robin. But one time that he didn’t know you knew Bruce was Batman he said bad stuff about you.

“Like I don’t understand why do he keeps talking to me! He is just weaker and dumber and ugh!” Dick snarled at that “hey don’t talk to M/n like that!” You entered the room making everyone silent. “Don’t worry Dick I’m fine. And Jason I’ll leave you alone if that’s what you want…” you had A hurt expression on your face Dick was mad and Jason felt even angrier. “I don’t understand why are you so important to them! You’re worthless and do not know what suffering is I don’t even know how anybody likes you you’re just a crybaby asking for attention!” Wow… that really hurt…

After like 3 years you left for college. Almost all your family was going to miss you. Not Jason Todd. It was like that for sometime, you called they asked you how were you feeling and how were you doing.

Now you did discover some stuff about you, like you could use magic! And had un-human speeds. And elasticity. Okay you had a lot of powers but It didn’t mean you were the strongest being in the world no. If you could barely use your magic and elasticity imagine the other powers.

“M/n… I really miss you umm s-something I-is going o-on!” Dick said while he started to cry “what’s wrong Dick!?” You asked him. Dick told you that Jason was captured and they couldn’t find him.

You were lost, where could Jason be? You searched every building in Gotham and you were at the last building. “I really hope is this one” after sometime searching in the building you heard screaming and crying. “Jason!” Before the joker could react you shot him with your magic

“get out of here!” Jason was hesitant if he should go “what are you going to do! I can’t just leave you!” While the joker let poison was on the room. you covered his mouth with a peace of rope. “ugh- listen you need to get out of here” you said while coughing loudly. Jason couldn’t leave he heard you fight with the Joker.

It’s almost over you did what you could, but you had a plan you were going to push Joker out the window with your legs and run as fast as you can. Why? Because there was a fucking bomb inside the building. That fight was really hard, not only were you breathing in poison gas but you were bleeding out.

The Joker was about to hit you with a nearby chair. “leave him alone!” Jason stabbed the joker in the back. “You rascal you’re going to have the same fate as your brother!” he hit Jason with the chair in his back “Jason!”

While you tried to pick up Jason the Jocker grabbed you and punched you in the face. “Ugh!” Fuck Bruce’s rule! You shot magic through his stomach killing him in the process. “Jason I told you to leave!” “ I couldn’t leave you just like that.” Before the Jason said something else you heard a tick. “Shut-” before Jason knew what happened you grabbed him and protected him with your elasticity powers.

Jason woke up to see a burning building. “ Yes! We did it M/n! M/n?” Jason couldn’t found you. “M/n!” Before Jason could keep searching Bruce and Dick showed up. “ Jason how are you alive?” Dick said before hugging him. “M/n! We need to find him! H- he was with me inside!” Bruce and Dick were shocked that you were here. “No he is supposed to be alive! I saw him! He killed the joker!” Jason screamed before breaking down in Dick’s arms. “I’m sorry Jason…” Dick said while looking at Bruce. Bruce looked lost he had a blank and hurt expression mixed together. “Let’s go home.”

—————————————

Hey y’all! I just wanted to say that this was supposed to be a fluffy story where it was Male Wayne Reader x Superman so… yeah I kind of switched in the beginning. I’m also currently working on the male reader x Bruce Wayne story. I had this story in my drafts and I decided to continue it. Thank you hope you enjoy!

[watarfallar]

Incorrect quotes because I'm worried about how many people are gonna lose their last life this session

Pearl: How do you do that? Tango: I'm fearless. Scott: I saw you run from bees yesterday. You flailed around and tripped over a chair. It was both hysterical and sad. Tango: I'm mostly fearless.

Jimmy: Hi- Martyn: Leave before there's a terrible misunderstanding between my foot and your ass.

BigB: It’s not gonna work, I’m not a snitch. Cop: Fine, let's try something else. Tag a friend you recently committed a crime with. BigB: Lmao, @ Impulse.

Etho as a child: I can’t wait to grow up and have cool adventures! Etho now: I can’t wait to go to bed.

Scar: I don’t even use tubberware anymore. Skizz: What are you saying? Say it again. Scar: Tubberware. Skizz: Say it again. Slow. Scar: Tubberware. Skizz: Slow, very slow - actually, say the first syllable. Scar: Tub. Skizz: Wrong. Scar: What do you mean, wrong? Skizz: I thought I caught that. You’re saying tub. It’s P. Scar: What are you talking about? Skizz: Tupperware. Tupper. Scar: It’s tupper! Skizz: It’s tupper, always has been, always will be. Scar: I thought it was tubberware because it kind of looks like a tub.

Scott: Why are you doing this? Cleo: Same reason I do everything, Scott. To get somebody to like me.

Joel: Do you even know what an amulet is? Grian: Of course I do! I eat amulets sometimes. I like the ones with cheese and onions! Joel: Grian, those are omelettes. Grian: Oh. Then I’ve got nothing.

Pearl: Guys it’s a shooting star, let’s make a wish! Mumbo: I wish for good grades. Etho: Nerd. Mumbo: Nevermind, I wish upon the shooting star to fall down at a 30° velocity aiming for Etho. :) Pearl: Mumbo…

Martyn: *pulls back the curtain while Jimmy is showering* Martyn: Hey did we - stop screaming it’s me - did we run out of Cheerios?

Lizzie, about Joel: Can I tell them they look nice? Cleo: Sure. Lizzie: Can I tell them I respect them? Cleo: Maybe, if they ask. Lizzie: Should I show them an oil painting I made of us surrounded by our three cats and four dogs? Cleo: … Cleo: I’d save that for later.

Grian, sniffling: Calm down, I’m probably not sick. It might just be allergies. Jimmy: Okay, tell me this: are you like, really tired? Grian: I have depression, what do you think?

Pearl: I started school with straight A’s. Now I’m not even straight.

Bdubs: Wait, if baby oil dissolves condoms, what does it do to babies? Cleo: Believe it or not, babies and condoms are made of different materials. Gem: It’s like rock paper scissors. Baby oil defeats condom, baby defeats baby oil, condom defeats baby. BigB: Rock also defeats baby.

BigB: I dare you- Skizz: Scar is not allowed to accept dares anymore. BigB: Why not? Scar: "I have no regard for my own or others personal safety", as some would say.

Scott: Don’t preach to me about romance, Joel. I had a three-way in a hot-air balloon.

Tango, to Lizzie: You know, BigB can be really aggressive, so it's important to take all the necessary precautions when approaching. Tango: *blows airhorn at BigB* GET FUCKED!

Mumbo: What language do they speak at the center of the earth? Mumbo: Core-ean Joel: The center of the earth is arond 5430 degrees Celsius! Nobody is going to live there so they don’t need a language! Impulse: Core-ean.

*the Squad cleaning up* Etho: Pick up the nearest piece of trash and throw it away. Pearl, to Tango: Aight, which bin do you wanna go in—

Mumbo: You're ugly. BigB: Tone indicator? Mumbo: Oh I'm sorry! You're ugly. /srs

Tango: Cleo... Why did you draw a pentagram on the floor? Cleo: Your text told me to satanize the house before you returned. Tango: Tango: I wrote sanitize, Cleo.

Gem, to Impulse: Are you peanuts? Because I want to boil you alive.

Grian: May luck (and this picture of Scott eating shredded cheese at 3 in the morning) be with you.

Etho: You have Crayons? Grian: Yes, I have— Etho: You're— how old are you? Grian: YES I AM AN ADULT AND I HAVE CRAYONS, I HAVE A BOX OF EMERGENCY CRAYONS IN THE CABINET UNDER THE TV BECAUSE EVERYBODY NEEDS CRAYONS SOMETIMES, OKAY? EVERYBODY NEEDS CRAYONS.

[mooonage-daydreamer]

hey guys! this is my first ever micro-fic for the marauders! i hope it’s ok xx

marauders playing monopoly- 705 words - hope u enjoy!

It was already 11 p.m; how is it possible for a monopoly game to last this long? Remus thought to himself. Mary had fallen asleep on Lily’s shoulder, Remus was reading his book, and James looked as though he was on the verge of tears; it was just Sirius and Marlene shouting at each other. Remus was certain no one had any idea what they were arguing over at this point, but none of them really cared; they all wanted the game to just finish already. Finally, the arguing died down, but then Lily nudged him to draw his attention from his book and let him know it was his turn. Why did he agree to ever play in the first place?

“Remind me to never play monopoly with Sirius and Marlene again," he asked Lily. She looked just as fed up as he was and sighed in agreement. He took his turn, and unfortunately, he landed on Sirius’ property.

“HA!” Sirius exclaimed, “That will be 200 quid, thank you very much, my dear Moony!”

“I’ve ran out of money," replied Remus. He hadn’t really; he just didn’t have the energy to play anymore.

“WHAT!” replied Sirius angrily. “THEN HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO GET PAYED?"

“Padfoot! Calm down!” James said.

“BUT HE NEEDS TO PAY ME! HE LANDED ON MY PROPERTY, SO HE MUST PAY ME! THATS HOW THE GAME WORKS!” argued Sirius.

“That wasn’t the rule five minutes ago when you landed on my property," Marlene retorted quietly.

“Look,” James replied, “why don’t we just call it quits for tonight? We’re all tired, and we want to go to bed.”

Everyone nodded their heads in agreement except Sirius and Marlene, of course.

“THATS NOT FAIR THOUGH!” they shouted in unison. They glanced at each other, then back at James.

“If you two are so desperate to win,” interrupted Remus, “why don’t you two just carry on?”

For the first time in that long evening, everyone agreed, even Sirius and Marlene.

“Fine.” Marlene said while glaring at Sirius.

They all knew it was a bad idea to leave the two most competitive people alone while playing a board game, but they were all too tired to care. Peter, James, Remus, Lily, and Mary all headed upstairs to go to bed, but only minutes later they heard more shouting.

"NO, YOU DONT DESERVE MY MONEY!” screamed Marlene.

"THAT IS NOT HOW THE GAME WORKS!” screeched Sirius.

"WELL, THE RULES ARE ABSOLUTE BULLSHIT! WHY SHOULD I GIVE MY HARD-EARNED MONEY TO A CRIMINAL?” Marlene shrieked.

“ITS NOT MY FAULT IM IN JAIL!” yelled Sirius.

“Ok, rock, paper, scissor, who goes down to sort this out as they clearly can’t sort it out themselves?" suggested Remus.

“Good idea,” Lily responded, “rock, paper, scissors shoot!”

“For fuck sake,” Remus complained, “it was my idea; why do I have to do it?"

“Remus, please,” Peter said, “we don’t give a shit what you do, just sort it.”

"Ugh, fine,” he replied. So Remus made his way down the stairs, but just as soon as he reached the bottom, Sirius bombarded him with questions.

“MOONY! "DON'T YOU AGREE WITH ME?" he asked. “RULES ARE RULES RIGHT?”

Remus just ignored him and slowly started walking over to the monopoly board. Once he reached the board, he looked them both in the eye and just flipped the board upside down. “There”, he thought, the game was finished.

“WHAT THE FUCK!” Sirius and Marlene screamed at him.

Ignoring them, Remus began making his way back up the stairs to join the others. Peter looked at him with genuine fear in his face. “Moony, what have you done?" he asked.

“We all wanted the game to end, right?” he said. There were murmurs of agreement.

“So I just did the simplest thing and flipped the board over.”

"Oh, Moony, mate, you’re absolutely fucked.”

James told him.

“I mean, someone had to do it,” Mary responded while yawning. “Does this mean we can go to bed now?”

“Yes,” Lily said almost immediately, “come on.”

It was almost 1 a.m. when the screaming finally died down. Remus assumed they had fallen asleep while arguing. ‘I’m chucking that board game out when I wake up tomorrow’, Remus thought to himself

[nwarrior777]

Martin, Papers, Fire. And Knife

a little draft I wrote laying in bed as coping mechanism today in the morning. writing my fav character smashing someone to blood pile is therapy

inspired by that 9 minutes animatic of that moment of canon burning statements.

...

- is it really so hard to believe that i hate you as much as others

- no but it's hard to believe that you will act up about it

...

...

- what are you doing martin

- just walking i guess. i can't act up against you right. so what's bad can happen if i will come closer

- *chuckle*

- hard to believe i can act up. huh. why? can you tell me why. it's interesting to hear the reason

- martin you are worthless, pathetic-

- mhm mhm mhm yeah yeah yeah. i asked why. why do you think i am like this

- *chuckle*

- i know the answer i just want to hear it

- oh really

- yeah

- you think you ready to hear it

- oh i am so ready Elias

- phh. okay

- your look. your voice. gestures, behavior. everything. it's everything martin. entire you are the reason

- you such a shithead Elias

- ahah-

- you couldn't even tell this straight.

- i am very fat guy in glasses, quiet mostly, with eye tic, trembling voice, bring tea to coworkers. that's that you mean by "pathetic" right?

- you said it

- and you mean it.

- * slow claps * very cool performance martin. cool. you are so cool martin. now lets finish it

- i didn't get yet to the best part

- enough. i don't have time for your kindergarden theater. and you talk too much today. but this [ burning paper sound ] i don't like it martin. and you will stop doing it right now

- if you didn't notice i am not sitting on table burning anything. i am in front of you. Standing right. In front of you

- good. but i am assuming you will come back to it as soon as i leave the room

- you will not leave this room Elias

- ...oookay. your attempts to whatever you doing bored me. not very exquisite way to shut you down, but, quick one.

*clears throat* [eye sound] your mother-

- [eye sound stops] hates me? oh i know. her eyes told me long before your

- ...

- ...[eye sound] but you don't know why-

- [eye sound stops] i know exactly why. father face. which i have sticked to mine. had. father face we didn't see near by - she - for years, me never, well, at least not enough time to remember his face by myself. and yes, she destroyed photoes. but what do you think, i didn't try to find him? you think i couldn't find images on internet? of course i did, Elias

[ steps closer ]

- of course i did.

what was it Elias? a try to make me not able to look in the mirror? me bursting in tears about it? i did it long time ago yeah. but i went through. I added something. Elias, i *Looove* looking in mirror, now *especially*. This fucker vanished after some pounds on, new haircut and glasses. He also wasn't into dandy poetic fashion, you know. more into dirty all in beer and chips shirt and shorts

so its not. a bother

- .... very cute family story martin but-

....

- *SOUND*

...

- is this cute?

...

- * cough, blood choking *

...

- is this cute Elias? a knife in your guts? going baaaaack

- *blood chocking, try to catch breath* * scream in pain *

- ....and foooorth

- *blood coughing hard choking on blood short breaths in try to catch air interrupted in cought*

- is it? fucking? cute?

( sounds of splashing blood, knife goes in and in and in)

---

- look. LOOK. IN MY EYES

- ---

- actually you know. i don't care what you see in me. i see myself. feel. much more about me, than others will ever tell.

- *blood cough* *unclear voice sound*

- oooh nonono. last word here will be mine

...

(sounds of splashing blood from fast, fast faster going up and in knife smashing meat, bones, skull, going through to the floor)

...

tape cassete click

[imogen-rhitt]

“I’m clearly making you fucking miserable…I don’t want to do that…I don’t want to do that to you again.” Jamie yelling made Imogen flinch because she honestly hadn’t been expecting it, but it was deserved. They should yell at her, scream at her, call her names, all of that would be entirely valid. As for trusting them … it wasn’t about thinking they were a fuckboi it was just that she’d never been with anyone who wasn’t apart from Jamie. Hell even her current fiancee seemed more concerned about milking their relationship for all the PR possible over listening to what she actually wanted. What was the chance that Jamie would be the one exception to her entirely fucked up history? That the person she loved the most was actually the good guy for once. “I don’t know…I don’t know why you’d lie to me about it. Maybe you don’t want to hurt me or something I don’t know.” 

As she grabbed her bag she noticed them going back to sit on the sofa and the way Jamie put their head between their legs, like people did when they got dizzy. The mumbled words were just loud enough for her to catch them and immediately her bag fell to the floor. Not really thinking about it before acting she went over to the sofa, sitting down next to the other. Hand moving to smooth over Jamie’s back, the other reaching out to find their hand. “Take a breath, just breath for me, okay?” This had happened in the past only the roles were reversed, usually it was Imogen having a panic attack but at least the years of Jamie helping her through them meant she knew kind of what to do. “In for four, out for four.” Moving so her mouth was near to their ear, whispering softly, hand not stopping from rubbing their back for even a second. “We’re going to count together.” She murmured before starting to count out loud. @jamiexkent

"You're going to leave again? After all of, this you're going to just bloody leave me again?" Jamie yelled at her back letting out a grunt of frustration. "Imogen why would I lie to you about having a kid? Why do you always think I'm some fuckboy who wants to... to trick you!" They always thought that that was the reason Imogen left them in the first place, that she couldn't trust them in a long distance relationship as if they hadn't been loving her since they were kids their whole lives on their own. Always waiting on her.

Jamie wanted to ask her a million things begged her to stay to but they couldn't talk anymore, or breath. All the signs of an anxiety attack coming over them so they went to sit town on the sofa, head between their legs as they tried to stop themselves from spiraling once again. "Fuck, not again." They said to themselves as they felt their chest constrict just like that night when they found out she was engaged. But now the reason for it was just standing there at their door, about to walk out on them once again. Why weren't they good enough to maker her stay?

[icewindandboringhorror]

examining a seemingly normal image only to slowly realize the clear signs of AI generated art.... i know what you are... you cannot hide your true nature from me... go back where you came from... out of my sight with haste, wretched and vile husk

[iftitah]

she's talking on a call with her parents about how it was her luck and gods will what got her into this college who's gonna tell her of course no one because you know 🤡🤡