#that man had almost literally nothing except for the clothes on his back

[heartofalifer]

the saddest thing about broadchurch season 2 was that Miller telling Hardy "i think you’re wrong, by the way. we're not all alone" and then Hardy replied with "I hope you're right miller" only for the ending to be miller reunited with her children and friends while Hardy went off on his own with two(2) goddamned duffel bag

[squiddy-god]

Dorm leaders s/O bad period

This is another re upload, honestly, I think this is really funny because I just got off of my period and I wanted to die actually, because it was so bad

CW : period stuff, slightly suggestive joke on malleus and Leona, fluff, established relationship, at this point, they have all kind of tried to kill us, this is the least they can know. Kalim is the exception- no pronouns gn! Reader

Riddle 

He saw the slight red stain and had 0 clue what it was so he just marches up and informs you you are breaking the rules by having a stain on your pants

Instant regret when he sees the pure panic in your eyes

He thought it was him until you explain

Instantly gives his uniform blazer and walks you to the mirrors so you can change at ram shackle

Apologises a lot for almost giving you a heart attack

Poor boy really had no clue

9/10 caused a heart attack but helped 

Riddle us very concerned when he sees you puking and passing out from the intensity of your period

He just wants the best for you so he definitely has pain killers on hand 

He's a bit stiff and awkward but he is definitely much more lenient during bad periods

9/10 awkward and stiff but a great help

Leona 

He could smell the blood but thought nothing of it (🥺submissive and breadable?) 

Then he saw you and the tell-tale red stain. 

For all my slander he's a somewhat good boy, after all he dose immediately go help you

Drags you off and tells you discretely, before helping you to the dorm 

This will happen much less with Leona because he can pretty much tell before you get your period

When he knows your about to start he stocks up on snacks 

He knows how bad it gets for you so he's pretty much giveing you a free pass to laze about with him and sleep for a week

If you get cramps he has Ruggie get a heating pad lmao

10/10 pretty good honestly

Azul 

At first he thought it was ink- no no don't laugh he's serious! He also sometimes had/has issues with this kind of thing as a kid and assumed that it was that

Immediately tells you about the "ink stain" and hands over his blazer to tie around your waist

The moment you say it's your period his mind is in overdrive

After this first incident azul is,,, prepared

Has spare pants on hand, marks down your cycle, and always has a spare pad/tampon pt.1 

Most of the animal like boys will either smell or sense that it's about to happen, azul can just tell, but he also keeps track

This man 💀 

Infinite cuddles, you feel awful and bad and in pain? Here lay down with him for a second while he holds a heat pad against your back and Coos at you

Best for snacks, has all the snacks 

Also brews pain relief potions to mix with tea so you can relax 

10918637/10 ask and you shall receive. the price? Kisses. 

Kalim 

No thoughts not a single thought when he sees the stain, he tells you because he's nice and your his s/O

Gos "oh" when you say it's your period. Then panics a bit

Definitely takes you back to scarabia and gets you a change of clothing

Kalim is very sweet to be around the entire time! 

He loves you and will do literally anything just ask

It's comfy and warm in scarabia, he makes his bed into a pillowy blanket nest and feeds you fresh fruit and snacks

102884/10 holds your hair back when you puke 

Vil 

Immediately knows what happened and tells you right away

Gets you to the dorm and let's you change so you can feel comfortable

Vil could spot a stain from a mile away so chances are only he saw it 

Pt 2 of has spare pants, marks down cycle, and always has products on hand. 

Vil is nothing if not prepared for this! 

Ok when it gets bad and you find it hard to stand and sit due to pain vil calls you over and lays you down on you stomach to rub your back

Magic hands

His back massages are god sent and blessed by the 7 stg they make the pain melt and your back jelly

Herbal tea and remedies of any kind are in hand

Looking miserable in the halls and about to throw up? Look no further just drink what he gives you and pain goes away 

19377/10 magic hands and magic potions to treat you right

idia

Idia is better than one would expect

Chances are he either catches it before you leave his room or its ortho, who catches it in the halls

Either way, you will be informed immediately and taken to change.

Ortho always seems to have stuff on hand. What you need, whether it's some sort of pain relief or an extra pad ortho has it! 

This is because idia made sure that if he couldn't handle it you would at least not be fighting alone

Lets you spend your time during this to sleep in his room and do "online school"

Don't mention this suspicious lack of work during this time

Totally not because idia did it for you so that you could rest

Idia has always got snacks and if you're craving something, he doesn't have then he will brave the outside world and go get some from the vending machine

9/10 flustered but a good boy none the less

Malleus 

Smells it pt2 (submissive and breadable 🥺 pt2) 

Malleus is instantly awhere of the situation and will quietly inform you before doing away with it using magic

Malleus can tell long before you that you are about to start and he's very good about telling you so you are prepared

If you do happen to bleed through he will hide it with magic before getting you a change of clothing

Who needs a heating pad when you have a dragon

Seriously, he's so warm. He just radiates body heat

You could honestly just snuggle up to him and it would be like having a hot water bottle

Definitely feeds you any snacks you want

The moment you feel nauseous sparkles of green light float around you and then boom, no more sickness

12/10 personal heater go brrrrrrr

[melancholyhigh]

a collection of drabbles of ghost hatefucking you <33

Ghost hated your guts, but he sure as hell didn’t mind being in them.

Even with your clever quips and sly smirks that he despises so much, you’re nothing but a blubbering mess with your face in his sheets as he abuses your swollen cunt for his personal use. You can barely hold yourself up with your trembling knees. He grips your hips roughly, his calloused palms leaving marks on the soft flesh, and your back arched as the tip of his cock continues to bully into the sweet spot inside you.

Your face is buried in the pillows, the cotton fabric stained with your tears and drool. He fucks you like this ‘cause he can’t stand to see your fucking face. You’re prettier when you’re gagging on his dick, eyes all bleary as a combination of his cum and your spit drips down your chin. You also finally shut the fuck up — the loud moans and gasps you let out, muffled by the fabric. He wouldn’t dare let anyone know you’re fucking in the hotel room after a mission.

“Oh, if you don’t like me, then why d’you keep coming back for more?” you’d tease, which ended up with him fucking you incoherent. Sure, he doesn’t fucking like you, so it makes it all better when you’re giving him that dumb look after he had you creaming for the nth time on his fingers. They’re thick, and each curl of his digits has you crying out his name like a broken record. Your folds are glistening with arousal and cum, and your clit is throbbing from overstimulation after the numerous orgasms he has given you, yet you’re still begging for his cock like some mindless slut.

His hand encase around your throat, squeezing enough that it nearly makes your vision go blank whilst he fucks you missionary. And despite the intimate position, there’s no love as he pounds into your abused hole, his fat cock stretching you out. Your hands wrap around his wrist as he continues to rut into you, and you’re peering up at him, your eyes glassy and try not to roll to the back of your head, only to fail as he fucks you rough.

You like it, right? The way he fucks you like no other, you can’t even see his face but isn’t that part of the appeal. He had ruined your cunt for no one else. He calls you a dumb whore, yet he’s the only one that gets to fuck you like this, and you like it, don’t you? His mean words and the mean way his dick pumps into you that has you craving for more. You’ve always liked him, even if he didn’t like you, so you’re appreciative of any attention he gives, even if the only way he pays attention to you is when you’re grinding on his dick.

Your heart flutters at the peak of skin you get when he lifts his mask for a drink or when he sloppily eats your pussy out. The cloth of his balaclava is stained with your juices as his lips encircle your puffy clit, and he sucks roughly on the sensitive bud. As he lazily fucks your hole with his tongue, the black fabric darkens with your arousal as his nose digs into your sensitive bud as he coaxes another orgasm out of you.

You’re too quick to get drunk on him, often babbling as you bounce on his cock. He’s usually fully clothed except for his pants, pulled down for his cock to spring free while you’re almost entirely naked. You whine that it’s unfair, but Ghost is a secretive man, no matter how badly you want to run your fingers along his taunt muscles and leave scratches along his back. He’s left his mark on you, both figuratively and literally. You wonder if you’ve ever done the same to him. 

You know he’s not that fond of you, so you don’t speak your mind around him unless you’re on his cock, riding him for what felt like hours. Your thighs were quivering, and a sticky mess connected you two. Your brain has gone to mush, and not one single thought that crossed wasn’t about him. You’re looking up at him, brows furrowed as you plead for a kiss. Simon couldn’t help the chuckle that reverberated from his chest, his hazel eyes shimmering in amusement.

Squishing your cheeks together, he forces your lips together into a deeper pout. Tears stain your cheeks, and your pupils are blown wide. He can’t help but tease, “I fucked you too dumb, haven’t I, lovie?”

[ominouslywritinginmyhead]

A little present for @anonimusunnoaniswriting based on a conversation we had a long time ago.

Sending you lots of love Noni ❤️

Notes and warnings: f!reader, profanity, suggestive moments but nothing really nsfw, no beta we die like Daichi

Life sucks.

Your boss is a power-hungry, profit-horny dick who refuses to give you a decent raise or more time off, your coworkers are so incompetent that you’ve been cleaning up their messes since your TRAINING PERIOD, your utility bills have gone up again, and your air conditioner is starting to smell funny.

It doesn’t help that your washing machine broke down literally two hours before you accidentally spilled soup all over yourself.

Yeah, life sucks.

So here you are, stuck in the local laundromat at midnight, having shoved a soggy and soupy blouse and jeans into the washer with the rest of your clothes almost half an hour ago, spending precious 100-yen coins on salvaging what’s left of your sanity. There’s nobody around, and while your neighbourhood is relatively safe, you don’t like being out so late - even if you’re just two buildings away from home.

I should’ve waited until morning, you scold yourself. But you have work tomorrow and you’re almost out of office-appropriate shirts. You desperately need something for the morning, and heaven knows when the repair guy will be able to fix your washing machine.

The automatic door slides open, and a tall, muscular man with dark spiky hair walks in with his own pile of laundry. It’s the guy from the building opposite yours, Iwaizumi something-or-the-other, and just seeing him makes you want to crawl into the earth and never come out again.

Of all the times you see the resident hottie, it just HAD to be now, when you’re in an old, crumpled tee and sweatpants, wearing Cinnamoroll slippers. Your hair is a wreck too, uncombed and held back by clips you’ve been using for at least five years. At least there’s no soup on your clothes.

Why is he wearing a fucking tank top???? And has he gotten more muscular since the last time you saw him two weeks ago????

Ugh. Life sucks.

Even so, you can’t help staring when he walks through the laundry room and starts chucking his own clothes into the machine. His broad shoulders, his veiny arms, his legs, his hard face…fuck, you’re down bad. You don’t even care that he’s frowning all the time. You just care about that jaw you could cut your finger on.

Life may suck, but at least there’s a Greek God living in your neighbourhood.

You watch as he inserts some coins into the machine and adjusts the settings on the washer before pressing START with his thumb, and your mind immediately conjures up a fantasy of him stroking your lower lip with the exact same thumb - which is enough to make your brain short-circuit and set your face on fire.

The worst part is that Iwaizumi chooses that exact moment to look around and see you on the other side of the room, leaning against the wall. Shit.

“Hey,” he says quietly, and you almost choke on your own saliva. The Iwaizumi, saying hello to you?

It takes everything you’ve got to not turn around and check if there’s anyone behind, just in case he was saying hey to the wall and not you. “Uh…hi, Iwaizumi-san,” you manage, mouth dry.

Great start.

Iwaizumi rarely says more than this. He turns back to his laundry and you expect that’s the end of that, when he glances over his shoulders, laundry room light flickering in his eyes. “Haven’t seen you around in a while.”

HE’S TALKING TO YOU????

“I…yeah, I’ve been busy with work.” Technically, that’s true, but you’ve also spent the last few weeks despairing in your room about the state of the world and your personal life. That doesn’t leave much time for neighbourhood events or going anywhere except the convenience store behind your apartment building. Plus, you’ve really been cutting it close with your work commutes these days, leaving later and later from your apartment. Which means you don’t get to see Iwaizumi jogging in the mornings, his normally serious expression softened in the morning light.

“What did you say you do again?” He asks. You have a vague memory of telling him about your job at some neighbourhood cleanup your friend talked you into joining earlier this year, but you tell him again anyway.

“What about you?” You ask, checking the timer on the washer. Three minutes. You’re not sure if you want those three minutes to go faster or slow down. At least you’re talking somewhat normally and not in those weird squeaks that left your mouth the first time you had a conversation with him last year.

“Physical training,” he answers briefly. “I work with athletes and coaches and stuff. Used to be an athlete myself.”

That explains why he’s so buff. The part of your brain that’s stuck in fantasyland now thinks it’s a great idea to imagine Iwaizumi wearing a fitted t-shirt that displays his firm arms and washboard abs and—

Stop that, you scold yourself. This is not the time!

Two minutes. Just two more minutes. You can dry your clothes at home.

You lick your lips. Why must they be so dry? “Do you, uh, come here often?”

“Often enough,” he says. “The machines here are bigger than what I have at home. You?”

“Not really,” you admit, “but my washing machine just broke down today, and there was a bit of an emergency, so…” You trail off, hoping he won’t push further.

“Ah, gotcha.” He looks at you sympathetically. “Hope whatever stains you have come off easily.”

“I hope so too.” You threw your clothes in the sink as fast as you could to scrub the stains off, but stopping yourself from getting soup burns was a little more important at the time, so you’re not sure what’s going to happen.

Only one way to find out.

The buzzer goes off, and your clothes are ready. Hauling the washer door open, you start yanking things out and shoving them into your laundry basket. Everything’s still damp, but the faster you can put things away the faster you can go home and stop fantasising about the man standing a few feet away and his voice and his jaw and his hands and his—

Hold it RIGHT there, buddy; you don’t wanna think of what’s in his pants NOW.

That part can be saved for later, preferably when alone in bed.

You’re so preoccupied with putting your clothes away that you barely register the sound of footsteps approaching you from behind. It’s no big deal.

And then you hear Iwaizumi say your last name.

Still holding the basket, you turn so quickly that you don’t see just how close he is to you…which has you crashing into him, laundry and all, sending half your clothes jumping out of the basket.

You almost fall back as you collide with his rock-hard abs, but he catches you just in time. Unfortunately, that’s worse, because now you have his muscular arms around you, those large hands with callused fingers pressed against your back, holding you a little too close to him, your bodies so close you can see every little mark and bump on his face and neck and shoulders.

And you can see one more thing, having flown out of your laundry basket in the chaos and landed on his neck:

Your lacy black bra with the little ribbon in the middle.

The bra you bought on sale last March. The bra you once said was “the perfect mix of sexy and sophisticated.” The bra that was specifically launched for Valentine’s Day.

As the saying goes, life sucks.

Kill me, you plead to whatever higher power is up there. You don’t believe in the existence of said higher power, but you need one to exist right now. Just kill me, please, I am BEGGING you.

Of all the clothes that could have landed on your longtime crush, it just had to be the Valentine Dreams Limited Edition one.

Why? And why did it have to happen to you?

Life REALLY sucks right now.

“Uh…” Iwaizumi goes tomato-red as he gingerly peels the bra off his tank top. “Here you go.”

“Th-thanks,” you stammer, grabbing the bra and shoving it deep into the basket, your face on fire once again. One of Iwaizumi’s hands is still on your back, and fuck, the warmth of his fingers is sending a tingle down your spine. HELP, you scream internally. SOMEONE KILL ME. PLEASE.

Thankfully, the next best thing happens: Iwaizumi lets you go. Immediately, you pick up all the fallen clothes and put them back where they belong, slamming the basket lid shut for good measure.

Iwaizumi hasn’t moved. When you finally get your bearings, you look at him and bite your lip. “I’m sorry about that,” you say.

“No, I’m sorry,” he replies. “I shouldn’t have startled you. I…I wanted to ask you something, but I guess I should’ve waited a bit.”

“Ask me what?” You say, gaping at him. The two of you have hardly spoken beyond the occasional neighbourhood gathering and the handful of times you’ve encountered each other while he’s on his morning jog and you’re heading to work. What could he possibly want to ask you?

He takes a deep breath, the redness of his cheeks fading to a light pink. “I…I wanted to ask…if you’d like to go on a date with me one of these days.”

The laundromat goes silent, the humming of the machine with Iwaizumi’s clothes disappearing into nothingness as his words echo around you,

A date. With Iwaizumi.

A DATE.

A DATE.

You blink at him once, twice, three times. “I…what?” Your mouth and brain aren’t coordinating with each other, and you could scream in frustration.

If Iwaizumi notices anything odd, he doesn’t say. “I know, it’s, uh, kinda weird, because we haven’t really talked much.” He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “But, uh, I’d really like to get to know you better, and take you out on a date. If you’re interested, that is.”

He…he wants to WHAT????

Get to know you? You? Are you hearing this right or is it just a figment of your imagination?

The way he looks at you now…this is the first time you’ve seen him without a scowl or frown or neutral-bordering-on-frowning expression. You see his eyes soften as he watches you, a tiny bit of hope on his face as he waits for your answer.

The Iwaizumi. Neighbourhood hottie and guy you’ve had a crush on since the day you first saw him jogging in the neighbourhood. And now, the man who has just asked you out - even though your bra almost landed on his face just minutes ago.

And you are interested. Even if the sputtering sounds you’re making right now convince him you’re breaking down. The question is, how do you turn these sounds into something coherent?

“If-if you’re not interested, then you don’t have to force yourself,” Iwaizumi adds hastily. “I won’t feel bad if you say no, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

“Wha—” Shit, you have to fix this right now, before he assumes you’ve turned him down. “Y-y-yes,” you finally manage. “Yes, I’ll go on a date with you,” you add in one breath.

It’s Iwaizumi’s turn to blink. “Really?”

You nod, not trusting your tongue anymore.

“That’s, uh, that’s great,” he says. “Can I…can I get your number? We can plan something for the weekend.”

In response, you practically shove your phone at him. He doesn’t even flinch as it presses against his stomach. Fuck, he’s strong.

He enters his number in your phone, and you add yours to his. When you look at his contact details, you finally learn his full name.

Iwaizumi Hajime.

You wonder what it would be like to call him Hajime. Every time you’ve spoken, you’ve just used each other’s last names. He’s always been Iwaizumi-san to you.

“So, uh…see you around?” He says, looking down at your full name.

“Yeah…see you, Iwaizumi-san.” You give him the tiniest of smiles, your heart racing.

As you take yourself and the laundry basket out of the laundromat, you hear him call your name again. “Yes?” You say, turning around.

He gives you a small smile back. “Call me Hajime.”

Maybe life doesn’t suck after all.

****

“Soooo…what did she say?”

Iwaizumi struggles to hide his irritation at Oikawa’s shit-eating grin. Is it possible to punch someone over video call? “She said yes,” is all he tells the annoyance he’s known all his life. “We’re going out this weekend.”

“That’s nice. I’m really happy for you, Iwa-chan.”

“Thanks.” Iwaizumi can’t help the smile on his face as he thinks about you. Sure, the bra incident was embarrassing as fuck, but maybe the two of you will be able to laugh at that someday. That is, if you’re both able to make it through the first date.

Even in those casual clothes, you looked so adorable. Your fluffy Cinnamoroll slippers, locks of your hair spilling out of the hairclip, your eyes shining as you smiled at him…he can’t wait to see you again. And again. And again.

“Awww, Iwa-chan’s in looooooove~”

“Shut up, Shittykawa!”

[kenlvry]

stans gang and late night skinny dipping eith their s/o

skinny dipping with stans group

an,DAMNN OKAY ANON I SEE U 😝🤞 this is such an interesting one. SLIGHTEST nsfw so theyre all 18

kenny

you and him were having a sleepover, he's just there to accompany you since your parents are out of town and your an only child so it gets scary.

kenny has had this idea for a long time actually,everytime he comes over he suggests you two skinny dip tgt but you always refuse

not that you don't want to, he asks when the sun is blaring at you and during people are just walking by and greeting you like cmon, and also your parents can clearly see you if you two go skinny dip like um???

anyways, you two were watching a movie and it was getting boring, you looked out to your backyard to see your pool, you thought it was a good time "ken, you know how you always ask to skinny dip tgt?"

his clothes are off by the time you finish that sentence. he has been ready ever since the day he saw you had a pool.

he's already in the pool waiting for you. your just there like 🧍 "come in babe" you stood there taking off your clothes while he stared from the pool "damn think i need to be handcuffed somewhere this time" smirking at you.

the pool was cols.the pool wasn't that deep, it reached your shoulder meanwhile it reached just the lowerhalf of kenny. since it was cold kenny would make jokes like "its really cold, dont you wanna warm you sweet boyfriend?" or "you love me right? im really cold rn.."

his hands are everywhere, from you waist to your ass to your hands then your shoulders, he is dora the explorer

tbh you two don't know what to do in there, i mean.. theres only one thing to do when your naked tgt...and uh you weren't up for that

when you have your back turned on him he would definitely press himself against you "tryna do something tonight?" he hugs you from behind and lays his head on your shoulder

"maybe not in the pool ken" you smiled "IN THE BED THEN???" you just kept smiling escaping his grasp around you and getting out of the pool with a towel around you "come meet me there" you winked. he is already there before you know it, skinny dipping with kenny is a one way ticket to not be able to move for two days

stan

tbh skinny dipping was your idea, you were bored and you come across a tiktok abt it and was intrigued.

"no." he has his arms cross and stern look, "PLEASEEEEE, your no fun stan please please" you did your best puppy eyes and hands clasp together looking up to him.

he wants to 100%, but he's scared someone's gonna walk by and see you two literally naked. you were so persistent and he couldn't deny you.

he looked at the time and at this time almost everyone in south park, except for you two are sleeping. he agrees and you burst a huge smile taking of your shirt and pants leaving you in your bra and underwear walking to the pool.

"w-wait y/n!" bro is stuttering blushing fluttering embarrassed flushed. i mean its not the first time he's seen you naked but usually you two make out with your eyes closed so he never really admired your whole body.

you jump in the pool, taking off your undergarments in the pool and throwing it, he sighs taking off everything except for his boxers.

the pool water reached just about above your boobs, i mean you could still see them but the water covers some. "stan take off your boxers" he's avoiding eye contact. "fine I'll do it" "WAIT NO" and like that he's naked now.

he is so embarrassed like damn with you naked he's already shy enough. your pool had stairs, it was a 3 step stair. stan was on the 2nd step slouching and man spreading, he's just watching you enjoying the water, you were cute he thought.

but its no fun when he's doing nothing, slowly approaching him the water slowly submerging from your body. your body revealing itself making even more shy, he doesn't notice it but he's smirking while eyeing you. stan had to held back the urge to vomit.

your body was wet, not too wet but wet. your hair tied up hut some strands wet from taking off his boxers earlier. sitting on his lap with one hand on his shoulder and the other on his cheek reaching in for a kiss, but just as your two lips was suppose to meet you pulled away and winking then getting up from the pool drying yourself and wrapping a towel around you.

he scoffs while smirking at the stunt you pulled. no way hes going to let you go like that, he immediately gets up and pulled your arm and pulling you into a kiss causing the towel to fall down. lets just say you two had one hell of a night

kyle

idk about you but i think Kyle's the first to bring it up, he would bring it up once but then forget about it months later

you remembered and suggested it again, he was like okay boo whatever u say. ur abt to take off your underwear and bra and he justs screams at you to stop "WAIT! do it in the pool" "what why" you don't question it any further and get in taking it off in there.

he says he doesnt want anyone seeing you but its 2 am who wants to walk by and peek through the fence?? "what if your neighbors see you, he has windows yk" "his curtains are close and the person in the room is 3 year old boy" "still."

he would stand REALLY close to tou, he covering you as if the kid isnt asleep 5 hours ago. he is full on staring at you, no shame just looking at you up and down.

he's seen you naked before but somehow you naked underwater is just so much better, he then realises hes been staring too long and is begging you to not swim underwater bc rn mans is having a boner 🤞

you two get straight to the point ,theres no teasing no nothing you two are doing it in the pool no need to the go in the bedroom, he kisses you as an accident but a kiss turned into a makeout session then uh yeah....

you'd have to physically pull out yourself bc you know this shit gon last until morning and youre not trying to have a fever.

cartman

when you mentioned it he refuses straight away "no thats gay" even if you beg with your life he wouldn't agree. you'd have to ask three days in advance.

he'll eventually give in, it took alot od brining though. he def takes off his boxers underwater hes too shy, he doesn't admit to it though

and tbh he doesn't regret agreeing to this bc your body being wet like that was paradise for him, you look so hot and so carefree he is not taking his eyes off of you.

he realises it and get moody bc he loves it and doesn't wanna admit. he would splash water at you so he can fuck up your hair, you told him earlier you didn't wanna dive in bc you didnt want your hair to be wet so he makes sure your hair is wet

you'd tease him alot, touching him from behind, kissing his neck, his lips, he loves it sm but he acts as if he hates it like bro its obvious.

the night ended with bed creaks from your room, if you know what o mean

[lunarw0rks]

https://twitter.com/46___suki/status/1705335640861102103/mediaviewer

cw: turn your volume down, rough car sex.

but likeeeeeeeee…this w who? i was thinking soap

a/n; that looks painful 😭😭 but what do i know i'm a virg

car sex w/ soap;

so rare, and not because of privacy. he has no shame. it's because prefers to have room for both of you to move; his body crammed in the backseat with you? it's a snug fit.

but does that stop him from taking you anywhere, and everywhere? not even a little bit.

driving home with him after picking him up at the airport. everything was routine, aside from the fact that he had arrived later than anticipated. nippy, chilled air; pitch black, except for the lights from the building. standing by the car and engulfing him in a long, tight embrace, as if making up for months of lost time.

he's not as jet lagged as you expected, since he apparently 'took a long nap' on the plane. johnny is surprisingly energetic for a man who spent months away from home and landed in the dead of night — but that was soap, in essence. he insisted on driving back to make up for the wait and also scolded you a dozen times for waiting out in the cold for him.

his hand squeezing your thigh, while the other remains on the wheel. any other day, you'd think nothing of it. but it had been months; hearing his voice through a phone or laptop, merely imagining his touch instead of experiencing it.

you grip soap's wrist as he kneads your thigh, tensing up when he starts to move his rough palm up further. "what? ye got all dressed up and expect to not be teased?"

the car isn't even out of the lot and you're hot and bothered. who is he to say no? well, he can't. pulls the car off to the side, where there aren't any streetlights. before you can process anything, he coaxes you into the backseat, shredding off your bottoms. the pads of his fingers rub circles along your clothed clit — the fabric soaked and sticky, clinging to the swollen nub. soap moaned against your mouth, rolling your panties down to expose your core.

as slick and needy as he expected; from the moment he walked out of the airport, how you clenched your thighs and trembled when he squeezed the fat of your hips. you weren't exactly subtle.

•·················•·················• •·················•·················• •·················•·················•

practically folds you in half, both to exude control and to accommodate the lack of space in the backseat. your knees bent as far as they'll go, stomach practically crushed by his weight as he hovers over you. soap hooks his arms around your thighs as he dips inside of you; slow at first, then all at once before you can catch your breath.

your literal breath knocked out of you with every single thrust, his hips crashing against yours with strength. no time wasted, and you weren't sure you wanted there to be. his girthy length stretching out your entrance — a perfect mesh of sting and satisfaction.

the tinted windows brushed with a layer of steam after every rapid breath, almost a perfect camouflage if you weren't reciting his name like a prayer.

his head dips down and you lift yours, allowing him to practically drool against your lips. you hold onto his waist, digging your fingernails into the flesh until the crescent marks are embedded and then some. it's as if soap is filling you to the brim; distinct squelches when he withdraws completely, only to bottom out with a harsh snap of his pelvis.

you writhe in pleasure, fingers gripping onto anything you can palm. after months deprived, you had been waiting for this sensation again. only to be bombarded and overwhelmed beyond comprehension — in the best way. "missed this fuckin' cock, didn't ye? fuck... you did? look at you."

๋࣭ ⭑ ๋࣭ ⭑ divider cred. - cafekitsune

[meeludrawz]

hi i love your writing! can you do tomura shigaraki trying desperately to cook or plan a cute date night in for someone he likes?? thanks!

Weeee!! :D I was excited to write that one! :3 Content: Fluff, Comfort <3 Warnings: Mention of blood

Perfect - Shigaraki x Reader

He was sweating bullets, he had been trying to prepare something special for the both of you but the league kept entering the motherfucking kitchen to grab snacks and wouldn't leave because it was 'funny to mess with him'.

At least that's what he was thinking, in reality, they weren't doing anything to stress him. He just didn't know how to deal with this. Usually, he or you'd plan an outing, sometimes Kurogiri would cook or you'd get takeouts.

This time though, he really wanted to plan everything from A to Z, including cooking.

Dabi had stopped in the kitchen's doorframe, a raised eyebrow. This was literally the first time that he'd step in the kitchen since Shigaraki had started planning for tonight. "Geez boss, I knew you hated me but no need to act like that"

The white haired mand didn't even look up at him, his bangs hiding his eyes. He kept scratching his neck, staring at the recipe. It shouldn't be that hard, right? "Go away" He mumbled.

He could see, from the side of his vision that Dabi rolled his eyes and walked away before coming back 2 seconds later. "Okay, the fuck's the problem?"

"Nothing, everything's fine" Tomura spat out of his mouth like it was venom.

"Uh huh" Touya clearly seemed to not believe him.

Tomura took a deep breath and finally looked at his friend, associate, colleague…, employee? He still wasn't sure what to call Dabi. "Fuck off, I'm fine"

"Sure, whatever but you should patch up your neck before that ruins your date" The scarred man disappeared in the hallway.

Tomura blinked then looked at his fingers. Fuck. There was some blood under his fingernails. He had scratched too much without even noticing.

This wasn't going well.

A few minutes later, he was back in the kitchen, hands cleaned, he had washed them at least thrice to make sure of it, and bandages were wrapped around his neck.

Okay, well, maybe it wasn't so bad. It's not like he had lost an arm while cooking, right?

He followed the recipe as much as he could. Tomura swore at it, multiple times as he had to google some terms that he couldn't understand. He almost used his quirk twice out of spite but didn't. He had to do it. For you.

But something went wrong, he didn't know what, but smoke was coming from the oven. "FUCK" He stuck his head out in the hallway, looking for something.

But of course, living in an abandoned place, there wasn't any fire extinguisher. The smell of smoke quickly invaded their whole lair, the other league members started showing up, lowkey panicking. Except Dabi.

Luck must've been on his side because you, Sako and Kurogiri warped into the kitchen a few seconds later. The purple mist man quickly warped the oven to some unknown place.

Sako and Kurogiri urged the league to open every window so the smoke could escape, while also leaving you two in the kitchen.

The look you had on your face, that worry, he couldn't handle it at the moment so he avoided your gaze.

You approached him and gently grabbed his wrist. He silently followed you as you brought him on the roof. He helped you climb due to your tight clothes stopping you from doing some movements. He also was wearing something nice.. Well now it was ruined due to the ashes.

You both sat down and leaned against each other. "Sorry"

"For what?" You gently asked.

"I burnt our dinner"

You smiled softly. "It's okay, as long as you're not hurt"

Tomura groaned and you looked up at him. "No it's not, I was trying to do something special for you and it just didn't fucking work." Tomura wasn't the type to curse unless he was pissed, like now. He spotted that frown forming in your face and his state worsened.

"Tenko, it's fine, I promise, I really appreciate-"

God, he loved it when you called him by his real name. He almost forgot why he was angry for a split second. "You don't get it" He interrupted you. "I wanted this to be perfect for you. It had to be something special that you'd remember"

Your frown switched to a confused expression. "Why?"

He snorted, he couldn't believe that you couldn't understand something so obvious. "You're genuine, funny, caring, kind.. You're even more than that.. But it's perfection to me"

"I'm not-" You started before he interrupted you again.

"Shut up, yes you are, even your little quirks and bad habits of yours… Somehow" He sighed and his scarlet hues finally met yours. "You deserved something perfect tonight" Tomura looked down. "But I ruined it.. Because I'm.."

A monster, was what he was trying to say. He didn't care about his looks, he really didn't. But on the inside? He was mean, cruel, a dangerous freak. And yet you still loved him. How? He didn't know but that's why you were so special to him, that he loved you back.

You didn't need him to finish his sentence to understand what he was thinking about, and he loved that too about you.

"Tenko.. I don't care about what happens when we're having a date. I don't need fancy shit. We could legit have it in the sewers or in a trash container behind a crappy restaurant and I wouldn't care because you'd be with me. And as long as you're having a good time too, I couldn't care less about the rest" You grebbed his hand and he intertwined his fingers with yours. He was always wearing gloves nowadays, because he never knew when you'd grab his hands. So he was being extra careful.

Tomura snorted, 5 seconds ago and he thought he was the freak one but now you were saying that a date in the sewers was okay. "You're weird, we should discuss about those strange date ideas of yours"

You hit his shoulder with no strength in it and he laughed. "Those were examples!"

The young man snatched your wrist before you'd "hit" him again. "I know and I get it now"

You smiled softly and he dropped your wrist before reaching for the side of your face. "I love you" You whispered gently.

And he could've melted right here and there but he smiled back. "Love you to the stars and back"

You snorted, he had done that cheesy line on purpose, just to hear you laugh. Because you knew he disliked the lovey dovey speeches. "Look at you being cheesy"

"What can I say? I'm a romantic"

Your laughs echoed through the calm night that the only light was the moon and stars.

{Yeah, nevermind} He thought. {This is perfect}

When you can't properly gradient the sentences because of Tumblr's character limit per blocks 😭😭😭

[acaciusbride]

Sharing Is Caring 🌶️🌶️ { Mafia!AU Joel Miller x Reader x Javier Peña }

{{ Several people asked what would happen if mafia enforcer Joel and corrupt agent Javi existed in the same universe. Then several others suggested the reader should be in a sandwich between them. I’m personally inclined to agree. This is the result. There’s no plot; it’s just smut. }}

CW: 18+ only / smut / language / age gap / degrading talk / unsafe sex / oral sex (m!receiving) / threesome / proceed at own caution?

This fic is for @joelsgirl xoxo

——

You’re more than aware that you’re in a dangerous position. Both these men could kill you, think nothing of it, and bury you in a shallow grave somewhere. Hell, nobody would even bother looking. Except maybe the other.

You had never meant to become caught between two men who had more than enough hate and rivalry between them already. Two opposing sides of one coin; a corrupt DEA agent, and the right hand man of the local mafia.

And then there’s you. You serve drinks at a club they both frequent. Dance when you feel like it. Flirt with whoever catches your eye. In this instance, it’s gotten you in a whole load of trouble, with two dangerous men who don’t want to share you.

Too bad, because you’re not entirely sure you want to choose between them.

You were Joel’s first, one of his girls, his favourite. Then Javi got to you, fully intending on interrogating you for information about Joel’s criminal dealings. Only to end up fucking you senseless on the floor instead.

They don’t play fair, and their hate for each other is clear as day, but where you’re concerned? They’re willing to compromise.

It’s intoxicating, knowing you have so much sway over two men who could destroy you without blinking. You don’t take advantage of it, toeing a fine line to keep yourself safe, but you refuse to choose a side.

Which has led you to this situation, pinned between two men who hate each other, who at any other moment would be pointing weapons and trading insults. Brought to a stalemate by their mutual need for you.

You can’t ever say you don’t have power in this life.

The resemblance between them, physically, is startling. They could be brothers, even if Joel is older. Both attractive as hell. Both dangerous. Both fucking incredible in bed.

Joel’s mouth trails kisses down your bare throat, finding a spot he likes before he bites down, sucks a mark into sensitive skin.

“Possessive, much, Miller?” Javi almost drawls it, his accent thicker than usual as he watches, his fingers tracing circles on your hips. He can’t talk; he can’t keep his hands off you, grinding his still clothed cock against your bare ass.

How is it that you’re completely naked and neither of them have taken off anything more than their coats? You suppose it’s only fair that they at least manage to conspire against you for something.

“Reminding her of her place.” Joel doesn’t even bother looking at the other man, licks the mark he’s just left on you.

“Pretty sure she knows her place.” Javi lays a light slap to your ass. “It’s right where she wants to be.”

Of the pair, he’s the least likely to underestimate you. Has a feeling you’re in this situation because you want to be, that in spite of everything, you’re the one in control here.

Joel hates that he agrees with his rival, makes a somewhat grouchy noise of agreement, gives a noncommittal jerk of the head.

“If by that you mean on her knees or on her back with one of our cocks in her, I’m unfortunately inclined to agree.”

You love how they talk about you, like you’re not there. Like you’re just an object for their pleasure. Even more delicious is the way you’re literally pressed between them, Javi grinding against your ass, Joel against your cunt, neither of them trying to disguise how much they want you.

“Definitely.” Javi wraps his hand around your hair, makes a fist in it, turns your head so he can kiss you. It’s not a sweet kiss, not really, more rough and needy and possessive. Like he’s proving a point.

Maybe he is, but Joel doesn’t comment. He knows this alliance is only temporary, doesn’t want to tread on Javi’s toes too heavily. The agreement formed, the bribes and the information passed between them, is as delicate as a house of cards, and you’re the foundation.

Doesn’t mean it doesn’t piss him off, just a little, to see the way you lean into the agent, lips parted, moaning into his mouth. He doesn’t like seeing you so fucking needy for anyone else, even though he’s never officially decided you’re his.

He shouldn’t fucking have to. Everyone else gives you a wide berth, knowing he’s about two steps behind you, possessive and silent as a shadow. Apparently that menacing act doesn’t apply to Javi, doesn’t stop him from throwing down a challenge.

You know you should - theoretically - make a decision, but you’re selfish, and why not admit it? They’re both dangerous, sexy, and you love that they fight over you.

Joel’s rough, scarred hand cups your bare cunt, sliding two thick fingers into you. He’s not playing fair, but it’s immensely fucking satisfying to know that this time, when you moan into Javi’s mouth, it’s because of him.

The latter lets you go, and you get about twenty seconds to breathe before it’s Joel who drags you in, tongue sliding into your mouth and licking against yours in rhythm with his fingers inside you. He can feel you dripping down his knuckles, feel how eager and needy you are, not just for him, but for both of them.

“Such a good, obedient little thing, aren’t you?” Joel removes his fingers from you, turns your body so your back is to his chest. “You’re going to be a good girl and suck his cock now.”

If it wasn’t such a damn good idea, one that benefits him, Javi might have had a dig at Joel for calling the shots, but, well… you’ve got such soft, warm little hands, so eager as you look at him with big doe eyes as you unzip his jeans, pull his hard cock out and stroke it gently.

He hadn’t been so sure about getting you on your knees on a bed between the two of them, but well…

“You just want her pussy first.” He says it anyway, rolling his eyes at Joel.

You bat your eyes at Javi as you settle into a comfortable position, on your knees, your ass pressed against Joel, flick your tongue out to give the tip of his cock a tiny lick.

“We both know you like fucking me when I’m full of his cum.”

He’s not even going to protest that. There’s something immensely filthy about it, about sliding his cock into your tight little cunt after Joel’s used you, fucking a mixture of all three of you deep into you.

Besides the point, you choose that moment to wrap your soft, soft lips around his cock, taking his entire length into your throat, humming softly at the taste of him.

Behind you, Joel strokes himself slowly, watches you for a moment. Waits until you’ve pulled back, teasing the other man by sucking just the tip of his cock to line himself up with your dripping cunt and slam in to the hilt.

The momentum pushes you forward, forcing you to take far more of Javi’s length into your throat than you were prepared for, but to your credit, you don’t choke.

“That wasn’t very nice.” Javi smirks, dark eyes glittering with sadistic amusement as he surveys Joel.

“Fuck off.” The older man rolls his eyes, rough hands on your hips, holding you in place. “She can take it.”

You feel a surge of pride at that, at how well Joel knows your limits, knows what you can handle. He’ll never admit it, but a small part of him cares about you, beyond the physical and sexual aspects of things.

He starts to move properly, drilling his thick cock deep into you, letting the force of his thrusts push you forward, helping you take Javi deeper into your throat, drawing groans from both men.

It’s beyond empowering, knowing that you’re responsible for this, for the sounds they’re making, for the way you can feel Javi’s thigh shaking as you suck on him.

Joel doesn’t relent, not for a moment, slamming into you hard and fast, making you scream around Javi’s cock, knees shaking. Joel’s hands on your waist hold you up, but eventually Javi has to place your hands on his hips to give you something to hold onto.

They’re both rough, relentless, and you love it, feeling every inch of both of them, every slap Joel lays to your ass as he slams into you. He won’t last much longer, he knows this much. You’re too tight, too wet and needy for him, and the sight of you drooling over his rival’s cock is doing… questionable things to him.

Even worse - better? - when you tighten around him, moaning around Javi, cunt soaking his cock drilling into you, giving him more ability to get deeper and deeper inside you, fucking you through the intensity of your release.

He’s close and he knows it. He knows it, you know it, and so does Javi.

“Gonna cum in her already, old man? Can’t say I blame you, she has the tightest cunt I’ve ever seen, but damn.” He’s lazy in his taunting, in the way he’s rocking his hips into your throat, enjoying the way you work your tongue around him, the way your doe eyes are watching him, half rolled back from the feeling of Joel fucking into you.

“Thought I told you to shut the fuck up.” Joel almost growls it, but he doesn’t argue beyond that. He’s too close, you’re too tight, tiny little cunt milking his cock like you were made for it.

Leaning down over you, he pulls you up, away from Javi, crushes your back against his chest as he slams into you, grinding in deep and staying there.

“Such a good fucking girl, so fucking tight for me, such a sweet little pussy, gonna fill you up so good…”

It’s a string of filth that trails off into senseless growls as he slams you down onto his cock, drags another orgasm out of you as he holds you in place as he fills you, hot thick ropes deep into your aching, fluttering cunt.

He stays there for a moment, wants to be selfish, but it’s not all about him. He wants to see you overstimulated, sobbing and begging and needy for the both of them. Still, he’s a little reluctant to release his hold on you, pull out of your heat, idly watching as some of his release drips out of you onto the bed.

Joel likes you on all fours, or riding him, but Javi is the opposite. He likes you pressed beneath him, likes the feel of you under him. Once Joel releases you, he pulls you against his chest, kisses you again before dragging your legs out from under you, pinning your body beneath his.

You don’t even get a chance to react, not really, breath leaving your lungs as he nudges your thighs open with his knee, tosses one leg up over his shoulder before he slams into you, every inch of him sliding in at once, made easier by the slickness of your need and Joel’s cum.

He’s big, and it should hurt, but you’re so wet and needy that it doesn’t, barely stings. The position he has you in isn’t particularly comfortable, but it lets him get deep, lets him lean down and devour your mouth in hungry kisses whenever he feels like it, which is often.

You won’t admit it, but you love how he has such a fixation on kissing you, on nipping at your lips. He doesn’t need you to admit it; he can see it in your eyes, feel it in the way you kiss him back, hook your free leg around his waist as he pounds into you.

Joel lazes back on the bed, watches you with mild interest. You’re so responsive to both of them, but in different way. That’s almost reassuring. That you don’t respond to them both in the same way. That there’s a difference. He doesn’t know why it calms him, makes him less jealous, but it does. He knows how you are with him, and that’s good enough.

Instead he reaches out to stroke your hair, caressing softly as Javi drags his cock out of you, slams back in, over and over until you’re delirious from the pleasure of it, cunt tightening around him.

“That’s it, querida, take it,” Javi soothes you as he drills into you, fucking you hard and fast, sitting up, tossing your other leg over his other shoulder, getting rougher, more erratic.

Joel leans in, kisses you to muffle your screams as you tighten, pulse around the cock buried in your cunt. Your release is what drives Javi straight into his own, over the edge, hands on your waist tight enough to bruise.

“Fuck, baby, so fucking good…” his hips piston against yours, burying himself to the hilt and staying there; you’re so over sensitive you can feel every inch of his cock throbbing inside you as he fills you, adding his own release to the mix inside you, overflowing, dripping out down his cock onto the sheets.

You’re an absolute mess. Beyond a mess. Shaking, trembling on the bed, back arching as you try to recover. Javi gives you a moment, trying to breathe himself, before he pulls out of you, admires the mess he’s made. Joel shifts to take his place, pulling you gently against him, your head in his lap.

“Fuck, should take a picture.” He mutters to himself, surveying you a bit longer before he rolls off the bed, zips his jeans up.

“Won’t stop you.” You answer sleepily.

“You might not, but he will.” Javi nods over at Joel, who’s still idly playing with your hair, having already fixed his own pants a while back. “Ain’t that right?”

“That’s right.” Joel runs his hand along your side possessively; the game is over now, and he’s no longer interested in sharing you. He tolerates this because you want it, but he has no interest in letting Javi get cocky.

“Didn’t think so.” Javi grins, loops his coat over his shoulder, digs a packet of cigarettes out the pocket and lights one. You watch him, still dazed, as he slides his shoes back on, cigarette dangling from his lips.

He crosses back to the bed, drops the end of the cigarette into the ashtray on the side table, then leans down to kiss your forehead. Mostly to piss Joel off, but also because he wants to.

“I’ll catch you around, Miller.” He crosses the room, to the door, turns back to give you a brief fleeting look before he’s gone, closing the door behind him, leaving you nestled in Joel’s arms, and any resentment he may have about that with you.

[thewritetofreespeech]

May I request Jack The Ripper and Hades with an s/o who's a seamstress?

“Jack, please hold still.” [Y/N] insisted as they stuck another pin into the seam line. “There’s a very good chance I could stick you if you keep moving.”

“Apologies, dearest. I am just excited.”

Jack knew of his lover’s skills with a needle & thread. Almost as deft and clean as his work with a knife. However, he had always been too shy to ask them to make him anything. Feeling it would be wrong to except a piece of their art just because they were a couple.

But when they offered to make him a new jacket, he leapt at the chance. Literally.

“I don’t know why you are so excited. It’s just a suit.” They replied with a chuckle.”

“Yes, but it is a suit that you made. By one of the finest seamstress/tailors in London.”

“I’m barely the finest in this borough.” [Y/N] said, sticking in another pin. “Not if Mr. Hertsmere has anything to say about it.”

“He won’t for long.” Jack commented off handedly, before he grinned again at his reflection in the mirror at his new suit.

“Ok. Now go take it off, carefully, so the pins don’t come out. I should have it later next week.”

Jack practically skipped off the dressing pedestal and took off the garment with expert care.

The suit was finished later that week, right on the dot, and Jack felt like he was the best dressed man in all of London. No, the world.

Mr. Hertsmere certainly thought so. Or, at least that was what Jack thought to believe when he was kind enough to spray his blood across the wall, and not his new fine suit.

“My love, you know I love you, right?”

“Yes.” [Y/N] replied. Continuing to read their book, despite hearing Hades come in the room. Their relationship was comfortable enough that they didn’t have to acknowledge each other every time they came into a room.

“That I would do anything for you and that you are the light of my life?”

“Yes….” This was getting a little suspicious, however.

“That I appreciate everything you do for me, and I treasure every gift you’ve ever given me?”

“Hades what are you….” They finally turned around and saw Hades standing there.

Battered and bloody, but physically fine, holding what was left of his jacket. “There was a bit of an accident when I was fighting the Titans…..”

[Y/N] sighed. “An accident, eh?” They asked as they stood up. “And how did you manage that?”

“Technically, it wasn’t me. I didn’t ruin it. The Titans did.”

“Of course,” they replied, and took the scraps in their hands. “There’s nothing left here for me to salvage. I take it you brought it back to show me it was damaged and not lost?” That might have been a subconscious way of thinking, but yes. [Y/N] sighed again. “I’ll make you another.”

“Thank you [Y/N].”

“Go wash up and I’ll have it finished by then. But Hades, if you ruin this one, I will never forgive you.”

Hades nodded and went to wash & get changed. He never let anything happen to his clothes again. Too afraid that his love would never speak to him again if he ruined another coat.

[endataraxia]

sage forest mental institution.

chapter 5. in which you discover...well, something. word count: 2.6k note: straight up this fic has stopped making sense. i am losing it cw: toby has mood swings. some crying too.

You make up for the lost dinner with a big breakfast, scarfing down your food as quickly as Jeff had grabbed the soul out of you the previous day. You almost worry that you’re eating too noisily beside the artificially smiley faced-man, but he seems to be eating more noisily than you. Absolutely no manners.

“Morning!” Chirps Toby like a baby bird, except in a baritone as he enters the dining area, in the same clothes as yesterday. Jeff growls at him through a mouth full of food to shut up.

Whoosh.

Barely a second and a whirlwind of brown and orange later, Toby’s at his throat. You did not expect this to occur during your peaceful meal.

“What did you say.” Toby growls at him, gripping Jeff’s collar so tightly you think his shirt might just tear apart. But Jeff matches that iron grip with his own on Toby’s wrist. “I said,” Jeff snarls, “shut the fuck up.”

How do you de-escalate a situation between two angry, violent people?

You remember a really stupid viral video from years ago and stand between them, your cereal bar between your lips.

“Whatcha dooooin’,” you mimic Toby’s line yesterday, keeping the tremble in your voice to a minimum. You need them to regain a sense of normalcy, or at least confuse them enough that their anger will end.

“Uh.” Jeff stares blankly at you. “What the fuck are you doing?” His lip curls up in a sneer of disgust. You suppose they were actually stupid enough for it to work…?

“Oh!” Snaps Toby back to attention. “Can I join you for—woo—can I join you for breakfast, Y/N?” He grins down at you like a ray of sunshine, like nothing ever happened.

Extreme mood swings.

“Sure,” you reply, and in no time Toby is shoving Jeff to one side so he can sit with you.

“There’s a left side and right side on her, lover boy,” complains Jeff, but he leaves all the same when he’s done with breakfast as Toby yaps into your ear about random topics. One sentence it’s the weather, and the next it’s torture methods. The range on this boy is a bit too concerning for your liking.

“Oh-oh, Y/N, Y/N, did you know that if you shoot a person in the head, they’ll…”, he giggles childishly here, “pee their pants?” It’s amusing how he giggles, a literal “heeheehaha” kind of sound, amongst small vocal tics. Smiling at him both out of amusement and out of politeness, you say, “Do you wanna know something?” His eyes light up even further, and you wonder if there’s a limit to how bright one’s eyes can be. “Wh-what?” His legs shake up and down and he clenches his fists, almost vibrating in his seat. Wow, that’s a lot of energy. But given his mood swings, it’s likely this won’t last too long.

“Sometimes,” you begin, “sometimes they live. It’s not a guaranteed death.”

“I know!” Toby exclaims, slapping the tabletop with both hands. You try not to give away your startle with any sudden movements, for fear that his current state is truly volatile and may be overtaken by negative emotion if you show any sign of hurt or fear. “Brian has sh-sh-shot many people, and, sometimes they—fuck, crack!—don’t die!” His grin is brighter than the sun, the corners of his eyes crinkled with joy, and you could almost mistake him for a young child if not for his sunken eyes and dark eye circles.

“But,” he begins thoughtfully. “Sometimes I throw my hatchet at their heads, uh, and, they die! Instant K.O!” He makes a bzzzzhhhh sound, like a buzzer. His attitude towards death is…concerning. You wonder if you could observe him in action as he kills his targets.

Your mind seems to have entirely shifted to an “I’m a therapist and nothing fazes me” mode, but you know that if he were to actually let you follow him on a murder spree or whatever it is he does, you might piss your pants and have a panic attack at the sight of the death of another human being. Did he ever have to get used to murder? Or was he always so cheerful about it?

“I see you’re getting along well,” comes a male voice, a slight grouch to it, a couple feet behind the both of you. Toby’s neck cracks as he whips his head around to face the person, and so do you turn to face them, though not at the same literal breakneck speed.

“Timmy!” Exclaims Toby.

What a strange nickname for such a stand-offish man.

One second he’s seated beside you, and the next, in a blur of brown and blue, something that you can only presume to be Toby clings itself onto Tim-not-Masky, and the two men go tumbling onto the ground, yelps of pain coming from Tim and more “heeheehaha”s coming from Toby.

“You fucking bastard,” spits Tim(my), but with little venom in his voice. Their relationship is almost that of brothers.

“You love me anyways!” Toby teases, nuzzling the man, who protests by saying something along the lines of “Toby I’m not gay,” and “Toby you’re not gay”.

“How would you know?” Says Toby lowly, grinning in a mockingly malicious manner like a fifth grader trying to mock-flirt with his friend. Tim shoves him off with a disgusted look and an ugh, then hurries to the kitchen to get away from the boy, who looks prouder of himself than he should be.

“So…” You tread carefully. “Are you gay?” Then, almost stumbling over your words, you blubber, “I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with it.”

Toby goes quiet for the first time today, deep in thought. Just as you worry that you might’ve said something wrong, he speaks up. “Nope! I’m straight as a stick! I…I think.” He frowns a bit at that. “I dunno.”

“That’s okay, Toby,” you reply, taking another bite out of your toast. “I don’t know either.”

“But…you seem like you…—wa-woo!” He swallows, putting his thoughts together in his head. “You seem like you know everything!” He seems to be idolizing you already, which is not good. This is not good. You’re not qualified to be regarded as an actual therapist; you can only be an equal to whom they spill their worries. You conjure the brilliant idea of straight-up telling him you’re not to be put on a pedestal.

“I’m a normal person just like you and Tim, Toby,” you say. But this does nothing to put out the flame of wonder in his eyes. Did he even process what you just said at all?

You’re alerted of Tim’s presence as he sets a bowl of cereal and milk down on the tabletop, right opposite Toby. “He thinks normal people are the best,” he states flatly. “Because Brian and I are normal to him and he thinks we’re his whole world.”

You don’t know whether to laugh or dig a hole, cry, and wait for The Operator to come after your ass.

—

After your little…learning experience with Toby, you get to setting up your office. The proxies were surprisingly resourceful, having transported entire bean bags, a big-ass carpet and a table from wherever they raided straight into your little extra room, along with a thoughtful little box of snacks and the stationery you requested. Just as you wonder if you actually did write your request for snacks down onto the paper yesterday, you find a little note in the snack box. It’s surprisingly cute, and could be mistaken for a kindergartener’s work. On it says, “With love, Toby,” in very shaky handwriting, along with a cute little heart next to it, equally shaky.

Chuckling to yourself, you set the note aside and get to work. To your relief, you do not overestimate your strength and actually manage to shift everything in place. The carpet doesn’t cover the entirety of the ugly blue tiles, but it’ll have to do. You’ll also have to do something about the cold lighting in the room, flickering every so often. What if you just place a piece of yellow paper on it? Easy fix, you laugh to yourself. But for now, you don’t have a ladder nor a means of getting up there, so you can’t even slap Toby’s cute note onto the light bulb.

Speaking of Toby, you think about the “patients” under your care. The most prominent profile in your mind right now is the youngest boy. If you had any access to the internet right now, you’d be able to do more research on his symptoms and conditions. Alas, you’re literally off the grid right now, and have to settle for descending into a half-sleep half-daydream sort of trance when bored.

And so it is that trance you descend into as you shuffle boxes here, boxes there, furniture back and forth, playing idly with placements, rolling pens across the desk—

“Hey Y/N! —woo!— I like what you’ve done with the place!” Comes Toby’s cheerful exclamation from the doorway.

The place is desolate. It’s absolutely dismal for a therapist’s safe space, one that they offer to turmoiled patients.

“Uh…thanks, Toby!” You try as hard as possible to not sound sarcastic, but it seems you don’t have to worry about it—the boy’s already flopping himself onto the beanbags, rolling around and frolicking. Damn, proxies don’t get many good things, do they?

Nonetheless, you take the chance to get some work done and pick up a pen and foolscap. “Toby?”

“Yeah?” Comes his reply, his head immediately turning to you from his ridiculous position. It looks like he’s trying to do a backward roll on the beanbag, with his ass in the air, knees beside his head.

“Wanna talk about life?”

—

And so the both of you talk. And you talk, and talk.

Toby had sat up normally—well, as normally as he possibly could, with his fidgety mannerisms and all—and he’d spilled. It’s how you come to learn of his past, or to be precise, the fact that he has no memories of it.

But as much as the empty cup can, it spills, even just a few drops. He can’t get into cars without severely panicking, so when sent out on missions, they use vans instead.

“I pretty much only remember my name,” he informs you. “Other than that, I don’t know much. I mean, I’m pretty sure I had both parents…and sometimes, I think I remember having a sister,” he says wistfully. “I think I loved her.”

You jot the information down as furiously as you can, letting the boy run his full train of thought.

“Sometimes…sometimes I wake up in the—mm!—middle of the night, and I feel like I remember everything…and then I can’t help it. I start crying.” He twiddles his thumbs even more furiously in an attempt to negate the negative energy he’s radiating. “Sometimes,” he continues quietly, “I think I remember her name.”

You allow the boy a moment to catch up to his feelings and thoughts. Then, you ask gently, “What do you think her name is, Toby?”

“Um…” He scratches his head, his messy brown hair curling every which way. “Lyra. I think.”

You smile. “Lyra must have been beautiful.”

“She was, I think.” A sniffle. A tear runs down his cheek, and you begin to panic, before reaching over for a box of tissues—you’d forgotten to write this down, but the proxies were thoughtful enough to bring you a few—and passing it to him.

“It’s okay to cry, Toby,” you murmur what little comfort you can. “I doubt you’ve talked to many people about this, in such a vulnerable manner.”

He sniffs. “Thank you,” he says, barely above a whisper. “I think I’m grateful the—sniff—that The Operator had us bring you back alive,” he says. “He ss-sent us to the asylum, and told us—sniff—to wait for someone to come, and when that ss-someone came, he’d let us know.”

“Many people came and went, and Jeff kinda…” He gestures vaguely, but you chuckle. You know exactly what he means. “He—ah!— killed ‘em all, except for you.” He forces a dry chuckle. “You’re lucky. B-but, I still can’t believe he sent us to look for a therapist, of all things. Probably just wants to prolong our shelf life o-or—mm!—something,” he mutters the last part.

Wow, the Operator’s kind of turning out to be a bit of an asshole, huh? You think to yourself, but pay it no mind. It’s something to ponder later, no matter how important it might be. The patient’s health comes first.

You nearly fail to catch the fact that Toby just stated that they did not kidnap you at random. He said, he sent us to look for a therapist. You don’t know what to do with this information. Laugh? “Haha, tall-ass eldritch monster sends his tiny humans to look for a shrink!” Cry? “Fuck, tall-ass eldritch monster knows what a therapist is. Who knows what else he knows?” That doesn’t make too much sense.

But the Operator’s powers still remain a mystery to you. Though, you suppose he was being literal after all. How else did he perceive your presence and make the (fortunate? unfortunate?) decision to bring you back alive? Hell, does this even concern you when your life is at stake? Is your life even at stake? Well, it is, but it also isn’t if you can treat his proxies.

It’s all a little too complicated.

“Y/N?”

You shake out of your stupor. You’ve been absently gazing at Toby staring back at you for the longest time, but it’s only now that you actually see him. Your vision is blurred and you dismiss it as a product of not blinking for a while.

“Are you ok-k-kay? You’re crying,” worries Toby.

Oh, so that’s why your vision is blurry. What kind of therapist cries in the middle of the session?

Before you can get the words “I’m fine” out of your mouth, Toby’s body language shifts to that of an obviously anxious one. Too quickly for you to even try to convince yourself he’s fine, he shoots up and shakily pulls out a few tissues from the tissue box, but he shakes so much that the box falls to the ground, and he follows, crouching over the fallen object.

“No, no no, no no no,” he mutters shakily, voice thick. A sniffle.

You act before you think. “Hey, hey,” you soothe him, hand reaching out for his shoulder. “What’s going on, Toby?”

He looks back at you, eyes and nose red, lips curled downwards, stifling sobs. “I-I’m so—sss-sorry, Y/N,” he mumbles. “I can’t do this to you. I love you too much.”

And all of a sudden, he shoots back up to full standing height, and before you can even blink he’s reaching for the handle of the door, slipping through faster than light and slamming the door back closed.

You’re left there to stare blankly.

chapter 6 is out.

[mysterious-trail-of-goop]

I LOVVEEE Jason todd and Peter Parker fics because their stories are almost exact parallels except for the fact that Peter had a support system and Jason didn't.

They both grew up dirt poor and surrounded by tragedy. But Peter always had uncle ben and aunt may to keep him optimistic and happy. Jason had an extremely abusive father and a mother who had drug problems and that home environment made him cynical and untrusting.

They both experienced the loss of a parental figure (Uncle Ben and Catherine Todd) and became heroes shortly after.

They both got superhero mentors (Tony and Bruce). Except Tony (and u can fight me on this) was horribly manipulative, threatening Peter with releasing his identity (effectively threatening his family and friends), forcing A FIFTEEN YEAR OLD to fight CAPTAIN AMERICA, WHO DIDN'T KNOW HE WAS A CHILD AND WASN'T HOLDING BACK. Jason got Brucie boy who despite being emotionally constipated did LOVE Jason as a son.

Both their mentors/father figures took away their ability to help people over a well intentioned mistake. This taught their mentees (whether on purpose or not) that they were only accepted when they are useful and that their love is conditional. This is NOT what bruce intended but he is too traumatised a up his own ass to verbally affirm his love for Jason, and because he never TOLD jason that he was his son, or that he loved him, Jason never knew.

After their ability to superhero was taken away both of them rebelled in an attempt to find love (Peter trying to prove he IS worthy and win Tony's love and Jason tried to get affection from Sheila Haywood because he believed so deeply that Bruce's love was impossible to attain)

In both cases they ended up with a warehouse on top of them.

Peter had slowly been realising over the course of Homecoming that Tony DIDN'T love him, and that tony WASN'T coming to save him from the building. So peter knew he had to get himself out of that situation and he only had this revelation because he had an example of what real love looks like (MJ, Ned, May etc). When jason was in that warehouse in Ethiopia he took Sheila's betrayal as proof that he was undeserving of love and therfore, he thought no one was coming to save him AND ACCEPTED THAT. Particularly heartbreaking because Batman WAS coming to save him, but didn't arrive in time.

Peter (in my au at least) heals from Tony and Vulture with his family, friends and other heroes (cough daredevil cough). But Jason never got that chance, after he was resurrected he found out abt tim and abt the Joker surviving and took it as FURTHER confirmation that Bruce never loved him.

Jason returns to Gotham and eventually comes to a sort of truce with batman but he feels like he can never truly be a part of the family again because of what he's been through. Batman believes so deeply in second chances, but thats the issue. Bruce EXPECTS jason to change, change his methods and his morality. Even though nothing about who jason is was his choice, he literally couldn't change if he wanted to.

Peter (despite having a no kill rule) doesnt expect this from him. Sure he will actively sabotage kill shots or stand in the way, but he won't ask him to change (experience with deadpool and punisher).

This results in Jason changing his methods OF HIS OWN FREE WILL, because he sees how much the killing upsets Spider-Man, and how he has never asked him to stop.

Jason would be fiercely protective of Peter, because symbolically, it is jason seeing and accepting that he is NOT peter and he shouldn't be. But also how easy it would have been for Peter to end up like him.

Ultimatley Peter is able to give Jason the one thing he needs, a support system. And Jason can give Peter what he needs in Gotham, someone to look after him, feed him, clothe him, help him through the Pit rage.

Basically this duo is super important to me and you can pry them from my cold dead hands.

[gooseloverfiction]

Do you know what time it is?

Ken x f!reader

Ken vs Real World, with a little help of a new friend...

Part 1

SFW (except Ken's doll anatomy mentioned?), fluff, comfort, Ken being Ken...

Word count: 2661

You've seen him during the day when you went for your jog along the beach. 

He was standing on the sand, looking at the waves. You've noticed him, because he looked kind of lonely. And was wearing a really fluffy hoody while you could go running absolutely naked and be fine with temperatures. 

And when you were coming back, he turned to you and you almost tripped, seeing his face. The man looked like a model. Or an actor… 

He noticed you staring and waved to you with a small smile. Two, circular glasses on his wrists reflected morning rays. You awkwardly waved him back and ran for your life, totally embarrassed.

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

Next time, you bumped into him, when you were rushing to your work. The place you've started to work recently just set-up offices and you had to switch into shifts to keep it safe before alarm guys would show up and wire everything. 

You literally bumped into him, too focused on replying to a message and passing some people. Your phone flew in the perfect arch and crashed on the paved alleyway.

“I'm so sorry,” you mumbled to the person you run into and rushed to your smashed electronics. Of course… Because it wasn't enough. 

“Are you okay?” a soft, low voice asked and you almost gasped at the proximity of the man from the morning. 

“Yeah, yeah” you've tried to smile at him, not really wanting to start some small talk with a stranger or start crying in the middle of the crowd.

“I'm sorry, do you know what time it is?” you asked, scrambling back to your feet. You were probably late.

The man, you now noticed, had bleached blond hair, a bandana with lightning bolts on his forehead and tiniest, scruffy stubble on his face, shade darker than his hair, and the bluest eyes you've seen. He looked at the watches on his arms and started to stutter a bit “It's ah… It's umm…”

You rudely caught his hand in black, fingerless glove and tried to read them. Only one of the watches was giving approximately good time. Great, you'll definitely be late. 

“I'm Ken…” the blonde started, but you're already running to the street to catch a cab. 

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

You couldn't stop thinking of the man. Sure, it was because he looked so good and he actually talked to you which was weird, given all those people around. Nah, you were adding some non-existing narration. He was talking to you, because you almost tripped him over in your haste. Nothing unusual. 

You took your phone from your pocket. You taped all the loose glass but it was only for you not to hurt yourself. 

You don't even have a flashlight now. You really need to buy one.

In the dimly lit park, you've noticed familiar colors of the fluffy hoodie. Why was the guy sleeping on a bench? Then it dawns on you. He had to be homeless or something. Funny, he didn't look like a homeless person during the day, just a weird dude in too warm clothes. 

And then you've noticed it. Someone was definitely trying to get to his pants and you've heard the tiniest whimper going to where you were standing. 

“Hey! HEY! I'm calling the police!!” you've shouted, not ready to confront anyone hostile, but the black figure was already running, something falling behind them. 

You let out a shaken breath and walked over to the blonde man. What was his name? Ken? 

He sat, groggily wiping his eyes and looked at you surprised. He was sleeping the whole ordeal?! 

“Hi,” he smiled, recognizing you. You scanned him but other than the stolen watches and his zipper(s?) being open, he looked unharmed. 

“Why do you sleep in a park? There's a shelter…” you've started but now he noticed it. His watches were gone. 

“No, no, no, my time!” he jumped to his feet and almost tripped you over. Seeing his distress made you feel sorry. And act stupid. 

“Hey, it's okay. Listen. I live nearby. I'll look for an old phone and we can call the police and… Ken, right?” 

Man's head snapped to you, hearing his name. He nodded and moved after you. He stopped dead in the tracks, seeing a low glow on the grass. It was one of the watches. The thief had to lose it. 

“My time!” You've watched Ken happily putting a rich looking watch on him and pointed in the direction where two of you were supposed to be heading. 

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

By the time you opened the door, you honestly thought about running away a few times. You asked the guy where he came from and stuff he told you was definitely a complete whack. 

He was certain he came from Barbieland and was a doll but now, since he left his homeland just like His Barbie did, he was supposed to be human too. Or turn into one anyway. 

Maybe it was some heavy role playing, you thought to yourself. Or maybe the guy was a total nut job.

Tomorrow you'll be in newspapers when they will find your corpses all over the place. 

You hated your chivalry and naive belief that people are what you think they're. And you felt that Ken is just a harmless lunatic who desperately needed a shower and some food. All the way to the apartment, you heard his stomach growl. Even he noticed it and started to growl along with it. 

“So,” you took him to show the sharing bathroom, “here is a bathroom, you can take a shower. I'll make you something to eat. What do you like?”

“I don't know, um…” he was lost at marveling around the simple, old bathroom equipment. 

You left him and went to the open kitchen.

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

Ken looked at the small room. There was a shower, yes, not so grand looking like Barbie had. And there was… Some weird chair and few drawers, a sink? And one, giant sink where Ken would definitely fit. A bathtub. Some Barbie had these, if he remembered correctly. 

He started to undress. He took his Kenough hoodie, followed by his tracksuit, fringy, leather vest, then a denim vest and pants, his black jeans and black fringe shirt, his barbie themed onesie, then two sets of his beach clothes and his Ken’s underwear - 5 pairs. 

The floor was quickly filled with all the garments so he started to fold them and put on that strange, hard and cold chair. 

He looked at himself in a mirror. A bandana, right. And gloves… you need to be naked to take a shower, he reminded himself. Seeing his reflection, Ken moved his head to the side, noticing a weird bulge between his legs. He was always perfectly flat. That is before he started Patriarchy. He then grew some hair on his face and a weird trail from his navel down to… The bulge.

“Huh” in touch it felt the same as the whole of his body felt for the past few days. Springy and definitely not smooth and hard as he always was. Someone in the Real World referred to Kens and Barbies as ‘plastic dolls’. Ken knew he was a doll once, so maybe the world he was looking for was ‘plastic’. Yeah, he wasn't plastic anymore. His muscles were still hard but didn't feel SO hard. He needed to check and touch the human to be sure. That nice woman who took him home. She was brave to scare that stinking man that was trying to… Ken wasn't sure what the man was trying to do, but it wasn't nice if he tried to take his Times. 

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

You almost jumped out of your skin, hearing a screech coming from the bathroom, just when water started. It quickly became silent and you left the food, going to the door that suddenly opened. Ken was wetting the floor, slippering on the tiles. 

“Are you okay?” you've started and noticed… That he was completely naked. 

You've tried to understand what he was talking to you but you were just dumbfounded by his body. 

He looked like a mix of athlete and bodybuilder, you weren't sure where to put him. He was lean and muscled at the same time. He looked like he really needed to hydrate and eat something… You were sure that if you measured the fat percentage of his body, it would be the lowest possible. You finally managed to break contact with his trembling abs and pecs and all those muscles you've seen and looked down, not up. You thirsty… you've started but then you moved away a step and looked wildly at his face and his… Lack of crotch. 

“The water, it was in a shower! How do you use a broken shower?” he started again, seeing you looked at him for a second but then he went with you down and watched your wide eyes and terrified expression. You looked absolutely spooked by his appearance. He didn't want you to look like this. It felt wrong. 

“Why… Why…” you've started, moving back when he was moving forward, his arms held higher and open, like he read you should do with spooked horses. 

“Barbie said we don't have ge-genitals?” he tried to explain, not really knowing too much about it. It was Barbie who was smart. 

“You can't… Was it some accident, or?” you tried to reason with yourself and him. He couldn't be a doll, it's ridiculous. But more and more you looked at him, the more he looked like one. Or less… Or…

“Everyone looks like this in Barbieland,” Ken started again. You reached a couch and he was dangerously close. 

“What is Barbieland? Why does it sound like some world of dolls?!”

“It is a world of dolls! Yes!” he exclaimed, trying to hug you from happiness that you finally understood. You put your hands in some protective manner and it stopped Ken. You were so scared and it hurt him so bad. He didn't want you to be scared of him. He wanted you to like him. 

“Please, nice woman, don't…be afraid,” he gently touched your arm, making you jump away. 

“I'm…,” you mumbled your name subconsciously and stared even more, “this is… This is a dream right? I'm dreaming about the hot guy I met, probably it will turn into a wet one because of how hot you're…” you tried to reason with yourself and in a desperate move, you touched his bare arm and chest, feeling his cool, wet skin that doesn't feel like plastic or something. 

Ken used the opportunity to feel your arms too. You were softer than him, your body more squishy and round. But in touch you felt the same as him now. So he was turning human. 

“Yes!” Ken happily whispered to himself, catching your attention. You were still holding him and looked at his face, touching it. He immediately leaned to your delicate hand and smiled. He looked like someone in desperate need of affection. 

Looking into his eyes, made you realize either he was telling the truth or you lost your mind completely.

“I, umm… You were talking about a shower?” you tried to sound casually, remembering really hard about what started all of it. 

“Ah, yes!” Ken took your hand and led you back to the bathroom. You glanced at the tower of clothes on the toilet. 

“Your shower is leaking water. I can't use it.”

“Because in… Barbieland you don't have water?” you tried to think about playing with dolls. Of course they didn't have real water or food or drinks, right? The power of imagination was all they needed. Or whoever was playing with them. 

“Yes.” Ken looked proud of you. And you almost smiled at that. It was all too crazy. But at the same time, he was too adorable to not like him. 

“Okay,” you tried to ignore his perfect, naked body (And he definitely didn't lack an incredible ass) and gently pushed him back to the shower. 

He looked at you getting inside with him, in your clothes, and watched intently how you took the shower head and put it at your feet, playing with knobs, wetting your legs. 

“Okay, I don't have any men's shower gels, so you'll need to survive smelling like a peach. Go ahead, take it,” you pointed to the bottle and popped the cap when he took it from a shelf. Taking it from him, you poured some on his big hands. Seriously, his palms were so big!

You decided to pour some too on your own and put it on his shoulder, rubbing his body a bit. Ken closed his eyes and smiled contently. 

“Okay. Now, you do it. You need to rub it all on your body, all of it. Just close your eyes when you wash your face, you don't want it in your eyes. Okay, turn around, I'll help you with your back.” He turned and you had to blink a few times at his body so close to yours, before you moved. 

With his back washed, you moved a bit, showing Ken to take a step back and you put a shower head in the holder. 

“Once you rub it all, just rinse. Oh, and for your hair, use the other bottle. Then rinse it all again and turn off the water. I'll leave you some towels, okay?”

Ken was too invested in washing himself to say anything, so you just hoped he understood you. 

You knew it was crazy to play along with his game but if it didn't hurt you, you could indulge him. You will decide what to do about him later. 

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

With spaghetti on the table, you filled glasses with water and almost shouted, seeing Ken walking in, stark naked. Sure, he didn’t have any clean clothes, or private parts to cover. 

“Ken, do you mind putting something on?” you asked nonchalantly, knowing you won’t swallow a bite and still drool because of his perfectly sculpted body. 

He was back in his black lightning bolt tracksuit, with Ken's waistband peeking out and for the first time really you thought it would be something Ken doll would have - his own name brand of underwear. 

After watching you like a hawk for a few seconds, learning how to eat his food, Ken devoured his plate in minutes. The man was famished. You give him another one and absentmindedly advice to not rush it or he will get sick. So you've spent the next 10 minutes explaining to him what you meant and vaguely said about sicknesses. 

He was like a big child, full of wonder. Your mind was feeling more and more spinning. The rational part of it couldn't believe in the ‘doll version’. But your gut told you something different. You wanted to believe him. And he had this innocence around him. 

After the dinner, you sat at a table and looked at eachother, your gears turning like crazy. 

“How do you feel Ken?” you asked, to start some conversation and you genuinely wanted to know. 

“Fantastic. Can I… Stay over?” he asked, crossing his fingers. You stood up, taking the dishes and putting them in the sink. 

“Well, yes. That's the point why I took you in. Because… You have nowhere to go, right?” The last part sounded a bit like you wanted him to say ‘no’. 

“Well I can sleep at the beach, like in Barbieland. But I can't go back there. To my world,” he added quickly. You wondered why. 

Looking at the clock, you suddenly felt the weight of the day on your shoulders. It was 2 in the morning. And you had to find your old phone. Just in case. 

You sat Ken in front of the TV and gave him a remote, showing a few basic buttons. He will figure out rest. You just underestimated man's curiosity. 

[manias-wordcount]

Feel Real (Kazuki Kurusu)

Kinktober 2023 Day Twenty-Six: Mirror Sex

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

Kazuki is the type of guy that you have a hard time believing is real.

He’s great with kids, a fantastic cook, and he’s so sweet to you. He’s got the same type of charm as a big, soft, fluffy dog and yet he can be so smooth with the way he speaks to you. Not to mention, he’s tall, strong, and handsome while still being the cutest guy on earth to you. It was the most amazing thing when he started showing you attention and flirting with you. It was even more amazing when that flirting led to casual touches. And casual touches led to more purposeful ones. And then eventually? Invites to the bedroom. 

  His bedroom. When no one else was home. When no one else was around. When it was just the two of you. And only the two of you. 

  It started when things were getting heated on the couch. His hand slung over your shoulder. Your hand over his clothes erection. His mouth against your neck. And your mouth telling him that there’s nothing you want more than to feel inside of you in that moment. And before you knew it, you were being thrown on his bed and helping him undo his belt as he crawled in after you and got on top. He was quick to help you pull off your shirt and your pants as well. And even quicker to run his fingers down the expanse of your now-exposed skin as you continued to strip yourself of your panties before he goes back to undressing himself.

  Your eyes flicker upwards once you’ve helped him shimmy out of his pants in a clumsy, laughter-filled moment between the two of you. That's when you find yourself chancing a look at the blonde’s face and body as he pulls off his shirt. Your gaze catches onto his warm smile almost instantly, and you feel like you’re melting at just the sight of it. When then your eyes catch onto something- something behind him. A flash of familiar colors and fast movements is what originally drew your attention. But your mind catching up a second later that had you staring- with your mouth wide open and your heart beating a little faster than before. And because he’s Kazuki- ever so attentive Kazuki- he follows your gaze for a moment before looking back at you with a smirk playing at his handsome face.

  “You like it?” He murmurs before leaning down to press his lips against your neck for the umpteenth time today. He liters your skin in soft, soft kisses as his hands reach up to thread his fingers between your own. Like this, you’re trapped beneath his body. Trapped, as he lets his mouth run up and down your jawline and your neck and your shoulders. Trapped as he grinds his stiff, erection against you. Trapped as he holds you plush against him with nowhere to go and nothing to do. Except look up and look at him. Look past him. At your own reflection. “I want you to watch me fuck you for the first time. Is that okay?”

  In the mirror on the ceiling.

  You’re nodding. Before you even realize it, you’re nodding with that same stupid dazed look that you get on your face every time Kazuki says something you like. And he’s quick to swoop in and to press his mouth against yours once more, stealing a kiss and preventing you from making an even bigger fool of yourself. And that kiss you share? It gives him the perfect opportunity to let go of one of your hands and trail it down to where he’s trying to explore. He reaches your pussy so easily and has his fingers circling at your clit faster than you expected. Almost as if knew your body all along. Almost as if your body was made for him. At least, that’s what you like to tell yourself. If Prince Charming can exist in Kazuki, then is it so bad that you can’t help but feel like the two of you were made for each other? 

  You’re getting ahead of yourself. You know you are, but there’s not much else for you to do right now except think about the man whose body is crowding you so deliciously. Kazuki’s fingers have now moved on from circling at your clit to slipping inside of you- gathering up all your wetness and spreading it across his cock as he tries to stretch you out for him as soon as possible. It causes you to squirm and to let out little gasps here and there that he’s always so quick to swallow up with another kiss. All the while, you can’t stop looking. You just can’t stop looking. 

  At the two of you. At him. At you.

  It’s an incredibly odd angle to see yourself in. At this second, you’re mostly covered by his body. But you don’t really mind it all too much now that you’ve been introduced to the idea. You can see all the tangles and the mess that you left his hair in after carding your fingers through it so many times. But you’re so much more interesting in the view of his back. Watching the muscles as they move and ripple across the skin. Admiring the warmth glow he has to his body- even in the dark of his unlit room during the nighttime. It turns you on even further. It makes you even wetter. Has you bucking into Kazuki’s hand and shifting your hips a little bit more than you’d like to admit. But you don’t have to admit it. Because it’s looking at you. Staring you straight in the face. 

  You can see your expression so clearly through the stark clean glass. You can watch your eyes as they flutter close. Your mouth as it hangs open. Letting out all the little whines and whimpers and moans that your partner manages to pull from you. But now that Kazuki is moving. Lifting himself off of you and settling on his knees. Your eyes come back down from the mirror, and you can’t help but feel so small compared to him now that he sits like this above you. Back straight, eyes halflidded and tongue reaching out to lick at his lips. As if he’s looking at his next meal. As if you’re his next meal.

  But as he backs up off of you, you can see more of yourself. And with every passing second, you’re getting more and more into this idea. The rise and fall of your chest. Your messy hair spread across the pillow. Your parted legs. And the nice, big cock down now pressing at your lower lips, preparing to make entry.

  And maybe you’ll watch from the mirror. Maybe you’ll watch the real view instead. Maybe you’ll try to do both. Try to enjoy both- as he set them aside for you to enjoy. You smile a little bigfer and whine a little bit louder as Kazuki starts to push his cock inside of you. He’s not the type of guy who feels real at first. But right now, as you look at him and his reflection? As you feel him and his warmth? And you know he’s real. As real as you are. As real as your feelings towards him. As real as his feelings towards you. As real as the image you see above you. And maybe?

  Even realer than that.

[bubble-popping]

day 21 i'm so consistent :) we'll see how long it rly lasts. more cryptid c!dream :D

He decided his best shot, since the thing could fucking teleport, was consulting an expert in the field. "Ranboo, I need your help." The chill of Snowchester was nothing compared to the literal Arctic, especially with his many layers of clothing and furs. The dual-toned ender hybrid stared at him, wide-eyed and speechless for a long moment. "Um. That's... probably the last thing I expected you to say. What, uh, what do you need my help with?"

"I have a pest problem, Ranboo, and I require your specific level of expertise." He explained so eloquently, yet Ranboo seemed even more confused than before.

"Oookay? Um, lead the way, I guess? I don't have anything special to do today, sooo..."

Exactly twenty minutes later, the two were trekking through the snow towards Techno's cozy cottage.

Techno looked over the horizon and smirked. "Perfect. It'll be here soon."

And the way he said that had Ranboo even more on edge, reluctance in his voice when he asked, "Um, what is it?"

"You'll see. It always come out at night," the pinkette said, nonchalant and cryptically terrifying at the same time.

"Oh. Okay."

The feeling of dread only worsened as they sat in Techno's living room in utter silence, not even a crackling fire to quell the awkwardness and tension. However, Techno just looked deep in concentration. His eyes were closed, body leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. He almost looked to be meditating, if not for the serious crease in his brow and stiffness in his muscles.

Ranboo really wanted to ask what the hell was going on, why he of all people had to be here, and how it was possible that The Technoblade needed help with something. Finally, after far too long of suffocating silence, Ranboo opened his mouth to speak-

Only for a sudden smash! to startle them both. Techno sprang to his feet and took Ranboo by the arm, hauling him up as well and pointing a finger to his lips. "Stay quiet. Don't spook it."

Ranboo quickly nodded his head and made no complaints as the clearly unhinged man led him to the basement trapdoor--resolutely ignoring how horrific that truly sounded--since he very much liked the fact that his head was attached to his shoulders.

Techno produced a torch from his inventory, marginally adding to the light of the torch already there. Some feet away, near the back of the room, laid the pieces of a broken glass bottle. As they walked closer to investigate, Techno grabbed his sleeve, halting him in his tracks, then gestured with his torch something off to the side.

Well, someone, actually.

Someone that Ranboo thought he recognized, though he wasn't sure why.

He addressed them, a simple greeting, but in a foreign tongue Techno could never hope to understand.

They jolted, retracting from rummaging in a chest to stare unblinking at the two. Their ears were perked, tail raised, the same pose they usually took just before they vanished.

Except, this time, they broke into a wide grin. They responded, just as indecipherable and not too unlike the guttural sounds of regular endermen, but in what Techno assumed to be an enthusiastic tone.

Ranboo too smiled, pointing to himself before pointing to them. Again, they replied, having lost interest in the chest enough to fully face them.

"So, what's up? What's it sayin'?" Techno interrupted, reminding Ranboo of the whole reason he was brought here in the first place.

"Oh! Right, so, this is a Farlands enderman, Farlander for short. They're super rare, especially so close to the server spawn. I'm not really sure why or how he got here-"

"Ranboo, Ranboo, it's great yer makin' friends and all, but can ya ask why he keeps trespassin' on my property?"

"Uh, I can try? I'm actually pretty bad at speaking Enderian besides the basics. I can understand it perfectly, even though he's got kinda, I guess what you guys would call an 'accent,' but anyway, holding a conversation is a whole different-"

The Farlander spoke again, surprising the duo to see he'd gotten closer.

"Oh, perfect! He understands English!"

"Wow, that's really convenient. Well, what'd he say?"

"He said he really likes honey."

Techno blinked, glancing between the two enders. "What does that have to do with my basement?"

At this, the Farlander took out a glass bottle as if demonstrating something while he explained.

"He saw how mad you got about what he did to the hives so he got the idea to harvest the honey in bottles like he saw you do before," Ranboo translated.

"That's it? Ya just wanted honey? Ya coulda just asked!"

He deadpanned and muttered something.

"You wouldn't have understood him. Plus, he didn't say this, but you'd probably be pretty freaked out if he just appeared one day trying to ask for honey in Enderian."

"I was pretty freaked out when this thief snuck into my basement and started stealin' my stuff! It wasn't about honey then, now was it?"

The Farlander fidgeted with his nails, sheepishly saying something under his breath.

"He was just really hungry and needed food, but he's sorry for scaring you."

"Scared? Of this oversized fluffball? Not a chance, I was merely confused. But nonetheless, I accept yer apology."

He beamed, showing off sharp canines, as his tail wagged behind him.

"Well, seems like you guys have this figured out now, so I'm gonna-"

"Ah-ah, not so fast, Ranboo. I wanna know what this guy's plan is! Are ya just gonna keep stealin' from me?"

The Farlander seemed to have a sad look on his face when he spoke now. Ranboo placed a hand over his heart, clearly touched by what he said.

"He'd gotten separated from his haunt in a blizzard. He tried looking for them, but hasn't found a single trace, so now he's alone trying to fend for himself."

"Yeah, sounds exactly like the kinda tragic backstory a traitor gives ya before stabbin' ya in the back."

"I'm... not gonna try to unpack all that, but it is serious for endermen to stay with their haunts until they're ready to go out on their own."

"I fail to see how's that my problem."

"Dude..."

"Yer the other enderman here! I dunno the first thing about takin' care of-"

Their argument was interrupted by the Farlander abruptly throwing his arms around Techno's shoulders and hugging him. The pinkette scowled at Ranboo's smug expression.

"Looks like he's already made up his mind."

And that was how Techno accidentally acquired a roommate.

[whitexwolfxx310]

Coffee Date

Coffee Date

Pairing: Bucky x female reader // Bucky x y/n

Summary: Spending time with Bucky outside of The Compound.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, cursing, argument with parents, super feels, Y/N.

Word Count: 3k

Previous Part

Masterlist

Sitting on the couch anxiously waiting for Bucky to get ready, you realize you're in the same spot that he held you just a few hours ago. You smile at the thought, taking your pointer finger and tracing a circle slowly on the sofa. The bedroom door opens, and there stands Mr. Barnes, looking more dashing than usual. He's not wearing all black. For once. Instead he has a grey shirt on with an opened black jacket complimented by dark blue jeans and of course, black gloves. In that moment you feel self conscious, looking down at the too big clothes that you slept in.

"Stop." He says, almost as if he can read your mind.

"Was telepathy a part of your training or just a learned skill?" You ask, smiling.

Bucky's head tilts up as he lets out a small laugh. "It's just observation, that's all." He dismisses. I wonder if that's partially due to being a super soldier. "Ready?" He asks, walking towards the door. You stand up and follow, willingly ready to follow him anywhere.

Well if I wasn't doing the walk of shame before, I am now. Until this moment it didn't click in your head that you now had to walk through The Compound, with Bucky, the morning after a party, in his clothes. You start to dread the side glances and grins you're about to endure. Here goes nothing... Bucky takes your dress that he hung up from the night before out of the front closet, and opens the front door. You put your hands out to take the dress but he waves your hand away. "I got it." He smiles and starts walking ahead. Following in his footsteps, you snort at the image of this man, as hard as stone and literally made of metal, walking with a golden sequin dress slung over his shoulder. I wish I could take a picture of this so I could always remember.

Walking out the main entrance, you realize that you have never had any interaction with Bucky outside of The Compound. It's strange. It almost feels wrong, like keeping a secret. As you follow him to the parking garage, he bee lines for an all black classic car. Everything about him is old fashioned. As he unlocks the car, you notice that it looks strangely familiar. It's an all black, vintage impala. You shake your head and laugh. "Are we meeting up with Sam, Dean, and Castiel to hunt some demons?"

Bucky has a baffled look on his face. "Who?" He retorts. You sigh, "I'll have to make some updates to that list I made you." He lays the dress across the back seat for you as you settle into the passenger seat. Bucky then gets into the drivers seat, adjusting how close the seat is to the steering wheel. (Which isn't much considering how tall he is.) It would be so embarrassing for him to see me drive. I'm so short I practically sit on the dashboard. Why is it that I'm surprised he drives? It's normal? People have been doing it for over a hundred years and he's no exception. The car roars to life, simple and relaxing jazz music pouring out the radio. Bucky quickly looks over at you trying to read your face, waiting to see what you think of the music.

"It's nice." You say, almost as if you're now the one reading his mind. He breathes out a sigh of relief as he puts the car into drive. "So, Y/N, where am I going?"

"You'll take the interstate South to exit 41. I'll explain more once we get closer." You smile in response to his nod.

The car ride is pretty quiet except for the soft music and the wind blowing through the open windows. Putting your hand out the window, you keep your fingers together, making a small airplane motion; moving your hand up, then down, just to repeat it again and again. The breeze blows into the sleeve of the henley you're wearing, giving you a small chill to bring your arm back into the car.

You look over at Bucky, enjoying watching him do something so ordinary. Being 16 and getting your license is a newfound sense of freedom. I expect for Bucky, it's similar. He's always being monitored and tracked. His every move is under a microscope. He notices, looking over at you. "What?" He says.

"Nothing. I was just thinking... aside from the music like this-" You gesture towards the radio, "That you grew up with, do you like anything that's more modern?" You ask curiously.

Bucky makes a disgusted look. "I don't care for it much. It's too noisy and I don't understand half of what they're saying." You shrug, "I'm not sure anyone does." You let out a small laugh. "How about we have you listen through the decades? I promise we'll figure out something that you'll like."

"That sounds nice." He says in agreement. And then it dawns on you; Maybe no one has ever taken the time to try and acclimate him to our world. Everyone has always just seen him as dangerous, unhinged, and untrustworthy. In this moment, you decide to commit to this, to him. Maybe this is just what he's needed all along. It sounds so simple and yet it was completely overlooked.

Before too long, the car is on a long dirt driveway, making it's way to your house. Bucky parks the car to the side to not block the front. It looks like my parents aren't home. He turns the car off but stays seated and doesn't say a word. "Um. Would you like to come in?" You ask, curiously. You're not used to a man who is patient and let's you take you're own time. It's true what they say, they just don't make them like they used to anymore. "Yeah, I would."

You fumble with your keys feeling suddenly frenzied that Bucky is not only with you on free time, but that he's walking into your house. Placing the clutch and keys on the table you turn to face him, nervous to look him in the eyes. "Well...this is home. No fancy clearance to get in here." You laugh, nervously. He smiles, looking around. "It's..." Strange? Weird? We have horrible taste in home décor? Cluttered compared to his strangely hygienic apartment? You didn't even realize you were holding your breath waiting for his answer. "Nice. Warm.." Warm? Like it's hot in here? Or has a pleasant atmosphere?

Clearing your throat, you intertwine your hands in front of you. "Make yourself at home. I just need like, fifteen minutes. Nothings off limits!" You smile but quickly scurry into the bathroom. Closing the door behind you, taking deep breaths with your back pressed against it. Why are you so nervous? Determined, you walk to the sink and look in the mirror. That's when you realized what you've actually looked like this entire morning. Smudged make up, tangled hair, eyes still puffy from the crying just few hours prior. Staring at yourself, your jaw drops. The pure mess that stood before you. I've looked like this all morning? Stubbornly, you make a commitment to not make this your look.

After taking a record breaking fast shower, which included washing your face and hair, you run out to quickly get dressed. Since you don't have as much time as you would like, you settle for a pair of light high waisted jeans with an off the shoulder dusty rose floral shirt. You're slipping into white flats in front of the mirror where your fluffing you long, damp wet hair; Praying that the humidity gods will have mercy on you since there isn't much time. Mascara and lipstick is what you settle for when suddenly you hear voices. Voices? As in multiple?! Fuck.

You quickly open the door to find, not only Bucky, but your parents sitting on opposite sofas having a conversation. Everyone turns to look at you standing there awkwardly. "Hey..." You say nervously. Bucky stands up immediately, always the gentleman. "Hi, honey!" Mom says cheerfully from the couch. "We were just talking with your friend, James." She smiles brightly. "Apparently he knew Grandpa! They escaped Germany together during World War II! What a coincidence!" Bucky gives a half cocked smile in agreement.

Dad doesn't say anything, he just sits and continues to observe the room. More like supervising Bucky. "Wow, I had no idea." You say, bewildered.

"I saw your fathers display of awards and such. We just struck up a conversation about his time in the military." He says, well mannered.

"Yeah, it's definitely interesting." Dad finally speaks. Your attention unintentionally looks at Dads decorated wall. Awards, ribbons, pins, patches, pictures, and a flag. Luke's flag. You exchange a look with your father, the warning look.

"Well..." You start, trying to change the subject. "We were just going to grab some coffee. I'll be back later." You say pleasantly, trying to break the tension in the room. Mom and dad stand up, walking over to hug you goodbye. Dad leans in close, close enough to whisper something only you are meant to hear. Although, Bucky can probably hear it anyway. "Be careful." He says cautiously. Pulling back, he grips both of your shoulders and looks into your eyes. Mom walks over to Bucky, "It was nice meeting you, James! I hope we see you again soon." She says, charming as always. "Thank you." Bucky says with a smile. He takes a few steps forward towards your father, extending his gloved right hand. "Sir." He says respectfully. Dad hesitates for a moment but reluctantly reaches his hand out, shaking his hand sternly. "James."

"Bye, guys! Love you!" It comes out just a little too quick. Walking towards the door you hear Bucky's footsteps behind you. A sigh of relief escapes from your mouth once you're outside. Being too afraid to make eye contact, you stare at the ground walking back to the car. Getting in, putting the seatbelt on, and sitting in silence. Bucky does the same.

"I'm sorry about that..." You murmur, still staring down at the floor.

"Hey..." He starts. "It's okay. I'm used to that sort of response from people by now." Bucky says, trying to make you feel better, but there was a sorrowful undertone in his voice. He's trying to comfort me? Maybe he should have my job instead. Aside from The Compound, I've never seen any sort of interaction between Bucky and other people. Is this why he never goes out unless it's for a mission? But why here? Why now?

"Well, I'm not most people." You respond, looking over your shoulder slightly at him. "You can't scare me off that easily." He gives a small smile in return, but searching your face at the same time. He's looking to see if there is any untruth in what you're saying. There's been multiple promises made to Bucky that were never kept.

Bucky is sitting across the small cafe table from you with furrowed brows, looking at your drink. “That doesn’t look like coffee.” He says observantly. You let out a small laugh in return. “It’s called a latte. Coffee has come a long way from just adding milk and sugar.” Gesturing towards his generic drink. “It’s okay. It’s what I would expect my grandfather to drink.” You add, snickering. His eyes widen in surprise.

“Wow! So that’s how it’s going to be? This generation has no respect for its elders.” Together you laugh. It’s clear that he hasn’t had much interaction with the outside world. His life had been revolved around Hydra, reconstructing his mind, and making amends to right the wrongs that he had done. Aside from Natasha, Bucky hasn’t had much experience with women. Especially ones that could be sarcastic and rambunctious.

“Is it weird?” You ask, curiously. “Hmm?” He asks questioningly in response as he drinks his coffee. “Well, for everyone else, our world and technology gradually changed over the decades. I would imagine it was a bit of a culture shock for you.” You say, sympathetically. Bucky cups both of his hands around the mug, thinking intensely as he as he watches the small amount of steam float upward from the hot beverage.

“The advancements are amazing to see. I never thought I would have seen as much as I have in my lifetime. But-“ He stops, choosing his words carefully. “I grew up with values that seem to have gotten lost with time.”

“Like women only belong barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen?” You challenge.

“No.” Bucky says sternly and very visibly annoyed. “I believe everyone should have the free will to choose what they want out of life.” He says with a bite of truthful experience. “As I was saying…” He shoots a dominant stare that says 'Don't interrupt me again.' "Growing up, family was the center of everything. It was an honor to start a new life and create a household of your own. But-" Bucky shakes his head disapprovingly. "Family and marriage doesn't seem to be sacred anymore. It's just something I always thought I would have one day and..." He looks down at the coffee, eyes filled with remorse. "And I never will."

"Never say never, Bucky." You reach across the table with your right hand to touch his, but he quickly pulls back. "Please..." He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. "You can't trust me. I don't even trust myself." Leaning in, he says softly. "I don't want to hurt you."

He really hasn't learned to have confidence in himself. We can work on that. Bringing your hands down into your lap, you nod empathetically. "I understand. " Nodding in agreement. The air suddenly felt as though it became heavy, making it difficult to breathe. You two finish your coffee in mostly silence except for the pleasant exchanges about the weather, the cute dog walking passed the café with it's owner, and of course, the mundane question of, 'So, how are you liking the new job?'.

You both politely say 'thank you' to the workers on your way out of the café. Bucky making sure he's at least two steps ahead to open and hold the door for you. "Thanks." You say, timidly. He opens his mouth to respond when something behind him catches your attention. You grin and eyes go wide. "We put it out into the universe, and it answered!"

Confused, Bucky turns around to see what you're talking about. A record store. You ballet sashay to the next building down, twirling around to face Bucky again. "Come on!!" You wave your hands for him to follow. He hesitantly obliges, standing with you in front of the store.

"I don't know..." Bucky says unsure as he looks through the window.

"Pleeease?" You look up at him with pouty lips and begging eyes.

"Fine." He says, giving in. You jump and down in excitement.

"But it's because I want to! Not because of the puppy dog eyes. "He smiles as you skip into the store.

You go your separate ways, you with a mission to find the important music that everyone should know, and him to look busy to amuse you. Picking through records of each genre, you look up every once in a while to see Bucky staring.

"Has anyone ever told you that you have a staring problem?" You ask playfully. He smiles, "Eh. Maybe once or twice." You both let out a small laugh.

"Ok so...Here's what I've picked." You say as you hand a stack of vinyl records to Bucky. He starts thumbing through each one, "Queen, The Beatles, Metallica, Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, The Rolling Stones, Marvin Gaye...These sound intense." He let's out a nervous laugh.

"We'll start with these. I'm guessing you might like more classic rock but I guess we will see!"

Bucky drops you back off at home to get the interrogation questions from your parents.

"What are you thinking?!" Dad says frustrated.

"What do you mean?"

"Not only is the Winter Soldier your case, but you two are friends going out for coffee?!"

"Dad I-...I don't see what's wrong here?" You say, but know deep down what he's about to say next.

"What's wrong here is that my daughter is spending all day, everyday, with the most deadliest assassin in history!"

You take a deep breath, knowing that this conversation would happen eventually. "Dad, I-...I want to help him."

Mom is standing off to the side, fingers up to her mouth swaying gently back and forth restlessly. "Honey, she's not doing anything wrong here-"

He cuts her off. "It does not matter!" He shouts back. "We've already lost one child to war, I refuse to lose another one to some super solider who may lose his temper!"

"Dad, It-It's not like that. I'm being safe, cautious. There are many protocols at The Compound to ensure safety!"

"But they don't extend to outside of The Compound." Dad sighs, trying to calm down. "I just don't want anything to happen to you." He takes a deeper breath this time. "I saw the way you look at him..."

"What?" You respond, shocked and wide eyed.

"Honey,...he's right." Mom chimes in. "Even if you don't realize it yet, you have a soft spot for James."

"I'm not doing this." You throw your hands up and storm into your room, shutting the door just a little too hard behind you. Letting out a deep breath through your teeth, you hear a faint *Ding* from your phone.

It's lit up on the bed with a text notification.

Bucky: You were right. Thanks for today, Y/N.

Seeing his name on your phone makes your heart skip a beat. And this is the moment that you realize that your parents are right.

Next part

[owladaptive]

What about the other people the family interact with? It's pretty obvious gyro is a mad scientist but what about Fenton, Is he still still gyzmoduck? What about Daisy ?

Continuing the Daisy discussion from previous ask first, because I like her and she deserves it.

Daisy in the addams au has abandoned the idea of sucking up to a boss that doesn't appreciate her, and instead is starting up her own business in clothes design. That's not to say it's going super well yet, but it's a work in progress. She has a website and a plan, just not a boutique. That is until she runs into Donald. A kooky, clumsy guy with no fashion sense and a fishy disposition. He weirds her out and has octopuses in the pockets of his wading suit. But... at least he's polite? If confrontational... He's also not bad looking... discounting the deep rings under his eyes and the shiny scales stuck in his hair. But if you're imagining a scenario wherein Daisy swoops in to try and woo the nephew of a renowned billionaire in the hopes that she'd get access to his money and finally get her business up and running... you're wrong. No, what happens is Daisy is appalled and taken aback by the obviously overworked-to-being-crazed sailor, but promotes herself by saying if given the chance, she could construct a glamorous wardrobe that anybody would die for. And Donald... takes her seriously. Asks for the price of the commission. Daisy needs cash. For the sake of her business. She had no idea she'd end up taking measurements in the dank halls of McDuck Manor but she's a professional about it. Even though there's a ghost on the stairway. And the children are throwing a fizzing bundle of dynamite like a ball. And there are cracks and holes and spiders everywhere. And the maid (?) tried to kill her with just her glare alone. And now she's trying to appeal to the abstractly galling fashion sense of a weirdo from a whole family of weirdos, and... it's just the last straw. All Daisy's stress boils over. She has a breakdown and rages - crying about nothing ever working out the way she plans, even as hard as she works. About this crazy house, her life, her failures. But Donald sits with her and listens, talks her through it. Offers genuine understanding and encouragement. Daisy sees him for the who he is, then - a kind and supportive and wacko man who happens to have unusual interests. And, oh..... well, he does have a sort of... eccentric charm about him doesn't he?

You're right that Gyro is a mad scientist. That's not even a question. He's almost unchanged from his canon self, except his mad science isn't constrained by what's permitted by his employer, who permits everything. Gyro is unhinged, unchained and unmatched. His hair is crazy, his goggles charred and he's living his best life. Don't mind the giant red septic tank at the back of the lab, that experiment is on a time out.

Fenton is tired, stressed and needs a hug. He's a down on his luck young adult who has been kicked out and fired from every job, gig or side-hustle he's tried after graduating his robotics class. All he really wants is to help people and make a difference, but that's a pipe dream he doesn't entertain. Life is unfair and tough. He'd pretty much given up on being a scientist too until late one night he follows a strange light and the sound of screaming into a dark corner of the city, and falls (literally) onto a scene of carnage orchestrated by one Gyro Gearloose. The mad doctor yells at Fenton to stop gawking and help out with these escaped brain beetles already before they overrun the neighborhood. Fenton of course panics and starts whacking gross, squishy thing that moves with his bag until Gyro casually hands him an iron maul to fight with. When the bloodmist clears, Gyro laughs in triumph and gloats over his victory over his creations. This knocks a traumatized Fenton out of his white-faced shock and the guy instantly starts questioning how, why and HOW Gyro created those malignant monstrosities!!! He starts listing biological inaccuracies, scientific queries and all manner of hypothesis while Gyro "hmmms" in thought. Then Fenton has panic #2 when Gyro snatches the back of his collar and starts dragging him off into the night, decrying that he'd been thinking about asking Mr. McDuck for a new assistant recently, anyway. Which shuts Fenton right up. (Fenton's mother is a Detective. She knows about the crazy McDucks in their hellish mansion on the top of Killmotor Hill. So, naturally, Fenton's heard about them too. She told him scary stories about them when he was little. But....... Blathering blatherskite, is he desperate for a job.) And honestly.... I might have to think about the Gizmoduck aspect for a bit. It's a tricky one. I might have an answer later.