#those types of fics are my shit. like i want him to REST. take a vacation fr fr jc!!

[joelmillerisapunk]

Vicious

Dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

Masterlist ★ Wordcount: 1.8k

📽 —★ Summary: In the quiet solitude of your own home, you revel in the rare freedom of an empty house, indulging in forbidden pleasures on a hot summer day. The unexpected arrival of your dads buddy Joel turns your casual rebellion into something far more thrilling.

📽 —★ Warnings: 18+, mdni, reader is in college but is called a "school girl", wears a uniform that has a skirt. Joel and reader are both kinda assholes to each other. Mentions of smoking cigarettes and drinking beer, age gap (reader is early 20's, Joel is whatever you would like but in my mind 40's or older) p in v, uses of slut and whore, in this world and my daydreams Joel is able to get off multiple times without a break (I am not going for supreme accuracy I am going for porn), if I missed anything please let me know

📽 —★ Notes: Hello, welcome to my comeback fic. Please note that I am very rusty since posting my last fic in July 🫠 but I am very excited to be back writing, reading and posting once again! I hope you enjoy. I've missed being here with all you lovely humans so much 🥹

📽 —★ A big thank you to my wonderful friends for reading/hyping me: @milla-frenchy @evolnoomym @thundermartini and @syd-djarin who also helped me with the mood board 💋 love you all so much. And of course @saradika-graphics for the lovely divider

“I’m home!” you shout the second you walk in the door. Dead silent, no response. You shrug as you make your way to your room but pause halfway up the stairs. No one. That means you can do whatever the hell you want. You walk back down, throwing your backpack to the floor an head to the kitchen, grabbing one of your dad's beers from the fridge, taking it out to the deck. You retrieve your hidden cigarette pack taped beneath the table outside. You grab a cigarette and light it up as you lean back in the chair, opening your legs until your feet rest on either side of the lawnchair. After a stressful day at school, you need some kind of relief. Plus, your schoolgirl uniform is much too uncomfortable on a hot summer day, causing you to undo the top few buttons of your white blouse, allowing the small but cool breeze to graze your exposed skin.

“I always thought you were a bit of a slut.”

You look up to see your dad’s buddy Joel leaning in the doorway, a lit cigarette hanging from his mouth as well. Instead of jumping up, snapping your legs shut, or covering your chest, you give him the finger. That guy can go fuck himself.

“And so polite too.”

“Joel, the last thing I need right now is you and your opinion. School sucked, and I don’t give a shit what you think of me.”

“Christ, kid, I was only fucking with you. I mean, you do look trashy as hell, but that’s okay. I like trashy.”

“Are you hitting on me now? Really? You’re like seventy.”

“Try again sweetheart,” he says, stepping out onto the deck. You try to ignore him as he walks closer until he stops directly in front of you.

“You like the view, asshole?”

“I don’t know,” he says, leaning down and tilting his head. “I wouldn’t have guessed white. I mean, you don’t seem like the innocent type. More like a black satin sort of girl.”

“Oh, don’t you know?” you reply, taking a drag from your cigarette. “We have to wear white panties too. They check us every morning. We line up in a row, and they make us lift our skirts so they can see what we have on under them.”

“I’ll have to see if they have any openings. Sounds like a good job.”

“Oh fuck you. Besides, you wouldn’t know what to do with one of us, let alone three hundred.”

The bastard sinks down until he’s squatting in front of your now wet panties, still smoking as he admires the view. You finally reach down, open your legs wider, and give him the finger with your hand right in front of your cunt. If he wants to look, he can fucking look at that.

“If you didn’t want me, you’d be in the house already instead of sitting there with those pretty legs open.”

“Is that what you think?” you ask, trembling in spite of yourself. He’s a huge dick, but he’s also right. You do like teasing him, and the thought of him going home and jerking off over you is fun.

“I know it,” he says, sitting down at the bottom of the chair.

“And what would you do with a girl like me? I’ve probably had more sex than you’ll ever have. Better sex too.”

“What, with some stupid school boy who fucks like a jackhammer, hoping he’s found the right hole?”

You look at him, rolling your eyes and shaking your head before butting your cigarette.

“Why don’tcha unbutton that shirt some more? Let me see how you’ve filled out.”

“Jesus Christ. What do you think my dad would say if he saw you eyeing his daughter up and down like a piece of meat?”

“What do you think he’d do if he saw you sitting here spread eagle, smoking a cigarette and drinking his beer? His sweet little angel, showin’ off for his friend?" he responds playfully, raising his eyebrows.

You sit up in the chair, never breaking his gaze as you undo the next two buttons of your blouse, revealing your naked chest.

“You’re not going to do a thing,” you say, reaching down and opening your shirt just enough for him to get a glimpse. “You’re going to sit there and drool over my body.”

“Is that whatcha think?” he chuckles. “What's actually going to happen is that I'm going to bend you over and fuck you until you cry.”

“You’d probably come the second you got a glimpse of my pussy. I bet you’re so hard right now you can barely think."

“Try me,” he says, moving up between your legs. His hand now under your skirt.

“Let go and I’ll show you,” you say, your voice nearly catching in your throat. He moves his hand in an instant. You reach down, gently touching the lips around your clit through the thin white fabric. Joel watches the entire time, never taking his eyes off of your hand. “Is this what you want?” you say, pulling the white cotton to one side, exposing your pussy to his greedy eyes.

“It’s a start,” he replies as he moves closer. He lifts your legs up over his knees. You are silent as he unzips his pants, and as much as you try not to watch, you can’t help yourself. He reaches in, and in one fluid motion, his cock juts out of his boxers.

“Jesus,” you say as he begins to stroke himself slowly. He’s only partially hard, but his cock is big and thick, and you are on dangerous ground.

“Just like those high school boys?” he asks, reaching out, grabbing you around the waist. Before you can protest, he pulls you up onto his lap, his hard cock stuck between your pussy and his stomach. His other hand joins the first until his fingers dig into the cheeks of your ass. His face is inches from you.

“You don’t have the nerve,” you say, not willing to look away.

Joel wastes no time as he tears your blouse open, the last remaining buttons flying off as he pulls it down over your shoulders, your bare breasts now fully visible. He tugs it down even further until it slides off your arms, leaving you topless.

“I’m going to fuck you, baby. I’m going to push those panties to one side, shove my big cock in you, and then listen to you scream.”

“I’ll tell my dad,” you whisper.

“No you won’t,” he says, sliding his hand all the way beneath you. As he holds you tight, he slips his fingers beneath your panties and then inside your now soaking wet pussy, working them in and out for a few seconds before bringing his hand up to your mouth and pushing his fingers between your lips. You gladly lick your excitement off his thick digits, feeling his large cock grow against you.

“You’re going to come in seconds," you whisper. “If you even make it inside me. You have no idea how sweet my little cunt is."

“Guess we’ll have to find out. But first, let’s see if you’re right, or if you’re just a filthy little slut who needs another dick.”

Before you can think of a response, he lifts you up, pushing your panties to one side, and then guides his large cock into you. In one swift motion, he’s deep inside of you, and you are on his lap. You try to suppress a moan as he pulls you closer.

“You knew this was going to happen the second you saw me. And so did I,” he adds.

He begins to move slowly, feeling him slide in and out of you each time you tighten your grip. Fuck, he feels good; his cock hitting your walls in all the right places. It’s not fair.

“And you’re a whore,” he says, moving his mouth down your chin, making his way down your neck.

“You’re an asshole,” you mutter, causing him to thrust harder.

“Which is why you’re letting me fuck you.” His hands run through your hair, gripping it in his hand as he continues to fuck you. You moan louder, trying to hold back a scream as his fingers grip tighter and tighter around your hair. You can feel his balls throbbing against you as his breath quickens. You are on fire as his cock pumps into your wet, hot, sensitive pussy, causing both of you to groan loudly. You can tell he’s close to his own release; you can feel your pussy convulsing, and you start moving on him harder. He grabs your hips, holding you still as he pounds himself into you. His balls clench tight as he groans loudly in ecstasy, his breath harsh with lust. His climax soon follows after, rope after rope of hot liquid exploding inside of you. He stays buried inside of you as the orgasm takes over him completely. After a few moments of catching his breath, Joel looks at you and mutters between breaths, "Just because I came doesn’t mean I’m done with you.”

And then he pulls out of you, flipping you over, pushing you down onto the deck chair and your panties to the side so you can feel him against you, his cock still dripping. But then, somehow, he’s back inside of you, fucking you into the fabric of the chair. “You might be cute, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop.”

“Oh fuck,” you gasp, feeling his weight against you, pinning you down. When he reaches an arm around your neck, you begin to moan. Oh god, don’t stop Joel. Don’t stop fucking me; I’m gonna come.”

“That’s right, baby. Come for me. Come like the little slut you are.”

“Fuck!” you cry out, feeling yourself let go completely. You shake and tremble as you clench around him. His breath picks up as he’s close to his own orgasm.

“I’m going to come in this pussy one more time.”

“No!” you beg, needing to at least pretend to resist when in fact you don't want this to ever end. The thought of him coming in you again makes your pussy tighten in anticipation. Then finally, when it seems he won't ever come inside of you, he does. Your entire body begins trembling, fighting against another orgasm. As you feel him pull out of you, he turns you over, putting his hand in your panties and cupping your cheek. Your eyes open wide, and you can feel the warm liquid dripping from your thighs. He looks down at his own cock. It too has started to twitch.

“Look at the mess you made," he whispers, placing the tip of his cock into the wetness. "You'd better clean this up before someone sees. You're going to lick every drop,” he commands. You nod. "Good girl."

As you place kisses along his cock, licking away any remaining semen, Joel watches in amusement. You stand up, looking up at him.

“Are you satisfied?" you ask.

“For now," he smirks, turning towards the house. "See ya tomorrow." With that, he goes up the porch steps, his back to you and makes his way home, only to be back tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after.

[imrllytootiredforthis]

The ‘bad’ kind of desire

pairing: soobin x reader

synopsis: you can't touch him, because he's too innocent, too sweet. but god you wish you could.

warnings: implied fem reader (can't remember if it's outright said), dom reader, sub soobin, masturbation, fingering, lowkey corruption kink, mentioned mommy kink, think that's really it

a/n: the first portion of this fic has been in my drafts since roughly july last year and was in my notes app for a few months - at least - longer than that so don't even ask me how old this really is, but at least it's out!!😭

“Am I bad person?”

Beomgyu scoffs, looking at you with eyebrows raised. He nearly laughs at the ridiculous statement coming from your mouth.

"What?"

And that makes him lose it, unable to even hold it back as he barks out a laugh, looking at you as if you've grown a second head. 

It’s a hard thing to fathom coming from you given that you’ve definitely never had any qualms about your morality when it comes to this kind of stuff. “Really? You’re asking me that?”

His best friend sits across the room, oblivious to the conversation, his headphones pulled over his ears, the game he’s playing flashing on the computer screen in front of him.

Soobin.

Sweet sweet Soobin, messy blonde hair left unbrushed, pajamas still on, not bothering to change as this was all he was planning to do all day.

Sweet Soobin who you can’t help but want to play with. 

Who you can’t help but imagine how pretty he’d look with tears in his eyes.

"I'm not fucking around Gyu-am I a bad person?"

You groan and flop over on the couch, rolling over to rest your head in Beomgyu’s lap, looking up at him with a comically-in his opinion-concerned expression. 

He gives you nothing but an exaggerated eye-roll. "Don't even start."

“But aren’t I?” You look again at the boy across the room, wondering why, why he had to be so stupidly adorable. His lips were twisted into a small pout and why it was so fucking cute.

Why? You wondered, feeling like this was all you were doing nowadays.

Beomgyu resists the urge to roll his eyes at you for the second time in a row, now at the way that you look at his best friend like some kind of lovesick fool, especially considering that all you really wanted was get into his pants. It didn’t really make sense, but hey, who was he to judge? 

“Why? Just because you want to rock his shit? Step on him and make him cry? That makes you question your morality? Out of everything that you've done?”

You gasp, slapping his chest. “He’s right there.” You hiss, not exactly denying the words.

He ignores that, shoving you off of him. He knows as well as you do that those headphones are the expensive noise cancelling ones that he'd gotten from you last Christmas. He barely hear himself yelling at his online teammates much less your hushed conversation.

You look at him as if you want to take him out on a nice picnic date and let him lay his head in your lap while playing with his hair pointing at clouds. Which Beomgyu couldn’t really see in any world, you were never really the type. 

But who knows? Maybe you were really just that eager for his dick at this point-or the more probable scenario-have him on your dick, that it broke something inside you.

“Why’re you so concerned now? Not like you had any issues with Yeonjun or Taehyun. Hell, you kept up everyone else in the dorms,” His voice goes higher as he attempts to poorly mock his roommates. “‘Y/N, more~’ ‘please, I need it-need y-‘“

“Shut the hell up.” You spit, quickly covering his mouth with your hand while your eyes flicker once more to him, still staring intently at his game.

Really, why were you so concerned now? 

Beomgyu was right. You’d had no problem doing the same to them, to Tae and Yeonjun, but they were different-he was different. 

Soobin was different than any of them. They were the product of having fun with someone you knew like the back of your hand and vice versa. Simply satisfying-albeit unimportant-a matter of getting your rocks off with people you knew could find your clit and would let you hit it from the back.

Soobin was Soobin though. The sweet boy who looked at you with the most innocent smile. 

Who got all blushy and embarrassed when you so much as lightly and non-vulgarly flirted with him.

He’d squeak and duck his head away when you called him bunny - again, non-vulgarly, trying to hide the fact that he was blushing and it turned him on-just a little bit.

In other words, painfully obviously, it was clear.

“He’s a virgin!” You hiss, hand still clamped over his mouth despite his garbled reply. You know just as well as Beomgyu knows how bitchless his friend is. Despite the fact that offers for him were nearly endless he was too shy, too awkward to accept said advances. “-I can’t take that away from him, it needs to be special, it needs-“

Your hand, still over his mouth is touched by something warm and wet and you shriek, pulling away quickly with a look of disgusted horror. “Are you serious right now?”

“Fight me bitch, I will not hesitate.” He growls, looking triumphant with the fact that you’ve now backed up to the edge of the couch.

You roll your eyes at him, looking once again at Soobin.

Fuck, why does he have to be so adorably innocent?

Beomgyu rolls his eyes, wiping at his mouth. "Just trust me, he'd be happy to be used by you. He might be a virgin, but he's nowhere near innocent."

"And what do you mean by that?" You sit against the arm of the couch, wiping Beomgyu's saliva onto the cushions.

He lets out a dry laugh, glancing back at Soobin before reaching for the previously forgotten remote control. "It means he wouldn't be as freaked as you think he would be if he found your sex toy collection."

—-

You suppose Soobin had always been special in some sort of way.

Always there over the span of time that you'd known all of them. Sitting off to the side while you hung out with the others. In his own room while you were fucking around with his other roommates. Playing his game while you were hanging out with Gyu.

He'd caught your eye more than once or twice, or three times over the years.

He was hot. You'd never discount that. Hot in the loser-y, adorable, cute, corruptible kind of way.

But then again, that kind of was your type if you thought about it.

You'd never been particularly close with him like you'd been with the others. He'd never made much effort to hang out with you but he was there when all the others were, if not one-on-one.

And he got really, really embarrassed when you tried to flirt with him like you did the others.

You didn't mind much, you'd just come under the impression that he was kind of scared of women. Which was also kind of cute.

But Beomgyu was right when he'd said that you'd never cared much about morals in the first place.

It didn't matter how close of friends or if they were a virgin or whatever other silly things that made things like that 'trivial'.

Life was too short to pretend you didn't feel things and besides. Sometimes, you really, just...didn't care.

And it wasn't personal, when you wanted someone, you would pursue it and if there was now friend groups you'd single handedly broken up, well they'd clearly made it personal themselves because you always made it very clear that there was no feelings involved.

Besides the raw, hot tension that made your skin tingle like your nerves were livewire.

Soobin was different though, special.

You felt bad for wanting him. For wanting to dirty him up.

He was something pure, something beyond and above you, perhaps and that was something you weren't willing to ruin, no matter what Beomgyu told you.

—-

"Fuck," he panted, "please,"

The room was dark, the light of his laptop being the only thing illuminating his face.

"Please,"

Sounds filled his ears through the crappy pair he'd owned for years, refusing to get wireless ones.

"Please."

"Bet you fucking like that, don't you?" The voice, only a few octaves higher than your own, still sent shivers down his spine.

Close enough.

"You're a such a dirty slut, you know?"

He whined into his sleeve, a sweater paw pressed over his mouth to keep the moans at bay. "I'm sorry, no, no please I'm sorry~" It wasn't doing a very good job muffling his voice though.

"I need it~"

The video seemed to respond to his desperate pleas. "If you need it so fucking bad then you'll be a good boy and wait for mommy's permission. You hear me?"

Or maybe he'd just watched this video so many times he'd memorized all of the male counterpart's lines. "Yes mommy," he panted, "I'll be good, I-I'll wait for your permission!"

He wouldn't. He knew he wouldn't.

He couldn't, as much as he prided himself on being a good boy. This time he knew he wouldn't even make it through the seven minute and thirty-two second video.

Not with you in the next room.

He couldn't tell if you were with Yeonjun or Taehyun. It didn't really matter either way.

Because he would only focus on you.

You weren't loud, having endured enough of Beomgyu's teasing and gripes about your sexual habits. He decided he hated Beomgyu for that.

But he could hear your pants through the paper-thin walls, heavy and followed by your quiet praises. "Sweet boy," you cooed, just as the porn on his laptop continued, "Naughty boy, such a messy little-" He ripped the earbuds out mid-sentence.

He wanted to hear you.

Not some substitute for the real thing.

He could imagine if you walked it on him right now.

Laying spread out on his bed, pants not even all the way off-just messily pulled below his hips, just enough for his dick to breathe properly and for his hand to easily slide up and down with the amount of pre-cum leaking from the tip.

"Fucking please." He moaned, quiet and needy.

You'd see him a mess, his soaked through sleeves catching the drool from his lips, teeth biting into the soft fabric to keep from crying out too loud.

You'd see him shamelessly fucking up into his fist, calling out pleas with no one there to hear him.

"C'mon baby, you can take it, take it all for me." Your voice was accompanied by the wet sounds of what, Soobin wasn't completely sure but his mind quickly conjured a few different theories. "That's it, a little more~"

Fuck him, he wished you were speaking to him.

Cockwarming him, your pussy wrapped around his dick, warm and wet and squeezing around him so good. Fluttering kisses over his face and throat as you teased along the length of him, slowly lifting up just to agonizingly sink back down onto him, clenching tight while he moaned into a kiss.

Or stroking him to another orgasm, making him cum again and again until his body was shaking and tears streaming down his cheeks. Telling him he could take more, do it one more time, for you. Because whatever pain you'd inflict would be worth it, after all it was your hands doing the damage.

"Fuck you look so pretty like this, just makes me wanna fucking wreck you. Turn you into a mindless whore on my dick."

Fuck, so that was what it was.

His mind managed to come up with one more picture through the haze.

You'd have his wrists pinned over his head with one hand, over him, keeping him down with a surprising amount of strength.

God, he could imagine the way you'd look at him. Maybe you'd be kind and gentle, sweet words and a sweet hand, fulfilling every one of his fantasies while calling him your sweet little bunny.

Like you were with whoever you were with on the other side of that wall.

But he doubted it. Or, he hoped not at least.

In his head you'd be meaner, crueler. Look at him with dark, hungry eyes and watch in a sadistic sort of glee when he cried, when he whined, when he begged and pleaded for more.

You'd thrust into him, hard and punishing, slowing down just to make sure that he wasn't crying from serious pain before you'd slam your hips against his, driving the tip of the toy dead into his prostate.

He'd beg you, plead you to slow down, to be nicer to him.

You'd tell him no. Tell him to be a good boy, voice patronizing and low, tell him only good boys get rewards.

God, that’s what he needed right now.

Needed you.

Your words, your touch, your scent, your presence even. You eyes on him, watching as he fell apart.

Not you fucking someone else in a different room.

Liquid heat flowed through his body, scorching and consuming every coherent thought.

"More."

He imagined it was you. Your hands all over him, pressing up against his throat, fondling his balls, purposely, maliciously ignoring where he needed to be touched most while you drove into him over and over and over until he was screaming in ecstasy.

It wasn’t enough, not nearly 

"You just love my cock, don't you angel? Love being fucked by me into a mindless whore?"

He silently cracked the lube open, lathering his fingers in it before letting them drift lower.

He'd done this before, but it had been awhile and the stretch was beyond overwhelming with your words ringing through the wall.

“You’re just a little angel, aren’t you, bunny?” And he pressed a finger inside, thrusting shallowly, breath picking up as you got louder.

"No, you're not an angel. You're a fucking whore, taking it like you were made for it, huh?" A second finger, following the first, scissoring himself open with a quiet gasp.

"Yeah? Fuck, is that it?" You laugh and he swears it's right in his ear, ringing through his head. "'m gonna make you scream for me baby,"

He whines in frustration, his fingers not deep enough - you not deep enough inside of him. No, he needs it deeper, harder.

More.

"Get on top of me baby, ride me," you mutter, so far but so close.

He can imagine, as he settles on his knees, that the pillow he straddles is you. That his legs are around your hips. That his fingers, positioning on the bed under him is your dick and your hands are pressing against his hips, holding him in place.

"You're mine, you hear that? Mine. My perfect little slut, taking my cock like a pretty little slut." His body trembles, eyes rolling back as he slowly sinks down onto three fingers.

"Your's." He moans in reply.

And finally, finally, he reaches his prostate, hitting it head on with his fingers.

Stars burst behind his eyelids as they slip shut, back arching into the intrusion. He could cry, he thinks distantly that he maybe is.

But it doesn't matter.

Because your hands are on his hips, controlling his movements, leading him the way you want him to ride your cock.

Up,

"Slut." You whisper.

and down,

"Whore." You lean up, teeth nipping at his neck but not hard enough to leave marks.

over,

"Baby," Breathing over the shell of his ear.

and over,

"Good boy~" Teasingly biting at his earlobe.

harder,

"Bunny," Kissing along his jaw.

faster,

"Mine." Across his cheek.

deeper.

Just barely there, ghosting across his lips-

"-Cum for me baby,"

And he does. With his mouth hung open, drool covered sleeve long forgotten over. With his eyebrows furrowed and body curled into itself, fingers pressed against his prostate.

Ropes of cum covering his chest, and his face. Some reaching his lips and his chin, staining his skin and landing in his open mouth.

"Fuck,"

And on the other side of the wall, "Good boy,"

a/n: i was thinking about making a part two but honestly if it took me a year to find the inspiration to finish this one, i'm not sure a second one will ever come out😭

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Look, Don't Touch 1

Warnings: this fic includes noncon/rape, stalking, breaking and entering, possible blood and violence, and femcel energy. Tags are not exhaustive and more may be added as the series progresses.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You get bored of watching and that makes you careless. (dark!reader)

Characters: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes

Note: Well, well, well, if it isn't another bad decision.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like snakes love Woody’s boots. Take care. 💖

The spectrum of city lights gleam through the window casting a soft glow over the lofty condo. Spacious and pristine, everything in exactly its place, even the shadows seem to assemble in orderly fashion along the pale wall. A fine contrast to your chaotic existence on the peripheral.  

You sit, staring down the treacherous drop. A single pane between you and the end. Your phone dims as it rests against the thumb grip, wires still woven from the port into the palm sized box. You can find anything on the dark web if you go deep enough. 

The alarm was easy enough to override with the device, you still feel a sliver of adrenaline. How your heart beats thunderously as you watch the screen race through columns of numbers. You expect a blaring siren, instead the door clicks and a low beep grants your entry. 

It's nothing bad. Not really. You’re tired of watching, of waiting, for what? You're not sure. It’s not as if you want him to notice you, you do your best to make sure he doesn't. Maybe one day when you're ready. Whatever that means. 

You shut the lights off once you get the photos, each room from every angle. So you have a reference to make sure everything's where it belongs when you go. Unlike you. 

You don’t belong here. Or anywhere. So you have no issue crossing those lines, because no matter where you step, you’re out of place. 

If anyone knew, they might think you've done this before. You’ve dreamed of it. Maybe, a bit too often. 

It's the online boards that make you so thorough, checking things you never even considered. Of course, those neckbeards are looking to scare some skinny blonde they don't have a chance with. You don't want to scare Steve, you just want to know him, if even from a distance. 

You always just watch. Is that so bad? You don't get in his way, you don't try anything, you just follow. 

Well, it's about time you came inside. You don't get much of a view from the outside. The reflection of the other buildings tend to make the distance further. A whole year and you don't know why you’ve waited so long. It’s not like he’ll know. 

You stand up and unplug your phone, turning on the flashlight as you point it ahead if you. You stop to admire the pictures framed and hung of him and his comrades, both old and new, dead and alive. You continue down the hall, back to the bedroom and peer around. 

You spread out on the bed. You can smell him, his sweat and the soap he uses. You know from his receipts. From skulking around behind him at the grocery stores you can’t afford to shop at.  

You close your eyes and imagine he's there with you. Watching you too. The two of you, peaceful, comfortable, like you've never been with anyone in your life. An indolent complicity. 

It’s lies. You know that’s not how it goes. If he knew about you, he’d be just as repulsed as any other guy. And you’re not the type for the sappy shit. You don’t want love, you just want a thrill. 

You put the phone down, the light glowing on the other side of your eyelids as it shines on the ceiling. You feel along your dark jeans and slide your fingers under your fly. You sigh as you feel yourself getting wet.  

You flick your clit and moan. You say his name and do it again, a steady motion as you wish he was there, hand down your pants as he fucks you with his fingers, reading a book as if he isn't rock hard over it. It must be extraordinary to have someone else touching you. It’s getting boring, just you. 

You cum quickly, surprised as usually you need your toys. More reliable than any man, you scoff and free your hands from the denim. 

You sit up slowly and wipe your cum on his pillow. Maybe he'll smell it, will he know what it is? Would he like it? 

You get up and stretch. You take your phone and check the time. You should go. He'll be home soon, you know he met his pal for drinks at seven. Funny, you were under the impression beer didn't affect enhanced beings. 

You go back to the living room and pack up. You plug in the cipher once more and head for the door. You re-arm the alarm and carry on down the hall. 

You stop at the elevator and wait. It opens and you suppress your surprise. Well, you’re not that shocked as his timing is always precise. Not to mention, he lives here. Steve Rogers hesitates before he gets off the elevator, blanching as he sees you.  

“Sorry,” he smiles at you. 

It’s not a real smile. It’s just his surprise. It’s courtesy. Steve fucking Rogers is high and above you. 

“It’s fine,” you say snidely as you stare at him dully. 

He only thinks to get off when his companion, Bucky Barnes, does first. You wait for them to pass you, the second man meeting your eyes as he passes. You see a spark of curiosity in his eye but it quickly dies. You’re not that interesting, especially at first glance. You rely on that. 

You step onto the elevator, nearly caught in the doors as you do. You turn to watch them walk down the hallway. They have no idea, you're just another faceless New Yorker. 

📷

It's weird, you think. Anyone else would be jealous to see the scene. They would crumple at the burning envy in their gut but you feel something much more intense. You're fucking horny. 

Your perch on the roof of the building a block from Steve's is bitter and blustery. You have the scope set up, cell phone in the holder, to align the lens. The red dot flashes to show that it's recording. 

You adjust the angle and zoom in on the screen. The set-up is simple enough once it's set up, if the app isn't a bit tedious. You take another drink from your thermos and huddle beneath your hoodie. 

You wish you could hear it. The slapping of flesh, the groans in his constricted throat, even the woman's airy breaths as she grips the back of the couch, teeth bared as Steve ruts from behind. America's golden boy getting his kicks from some bimbo he met down at the bar. Again. 

You want to be in her place. Or even just a bit closer. If it was you, it’d be a lot less predictable. He’ll finish, slap her ass, and send her off.  

You yawn as he grabs onto her shoulders, pulling her back gruffly as he rams into her hard. The aggression is what surprises. Steve Rogers is all smiles and sweet words for the cameras he knows are there, but behind closed doors, he’s brutal. The woman’s face contorts as the pain wracks her body.  

She doesn’t stop, lets him use her. Just like you would. If you even had a chance in hell, you’d lick his cum off the shield. Fuck, if he wasn’t obsessed with those barbie dolls, he might actually try something new. 

You don't hate her, don't feel an ounce of anger. She's doing you a favour, putting on a show just for you. An image you’ll never forget, that you’ll cherish on lonely nights. 

You shiver as heat nestles in your core. Your hand falls to your jeans, lingering just beneath your heavy parka. It’s too cold to do that now. You retract your arm and sigh. When you get home you’ll have to rewatch it with your favourite toy. 

Before your mind wanders too far, there’s a metal click and the loud clang of the bar across the other side of the door. Shit. You quickly grab your phone and collapse the tripod. You take down the lens and shove it all into the duffel, twisting the lid of your thermos tight and tossing it in before scooping up the unzipped bag. 

Footsteps scuff across the concrete roof as you scurry behind one of the wide chimneys and lean against the cinder block. You hold your breath as a man calls out, “hello?” he paces around, “someone out here?” 

Fuck! You put your head back. You won’t be coming back here again. It took you weeks to find the place and get the right angle, a good distance to keep from alerting Steve but not too far either. 

A flashlight casts a yellow light back and forth but doesn’t come close to you as you stay still. The man grunts and grumbles as his soles pad away and the door slams heavily. You wonder what gave you away. You disarmed the alarm on the door before you came up and no one passed you on the stairs. 

Maybe just a regular sweep by the building. You shrug and check the bag before zipping it up. You wait ten more minutes before going to the door and picking the lock. You assure yourself as you descend, you got more than enough to tide you over at least a couple weeks. 

📷

The cafe is busy enough to compound your insignificance. You’re hard to notice on a good day. A hoodie, jeans, just another body in the overcrowded city. You sit with a bottle of water and cookie you won’t eat, pretending to read as others are more obvious in their observation. 

Steve Rogers sits by the window, as if he wants to be seen, chatting over a steaming mug with the stalwart Bucky Barnes. Their conversation seems to frustrate the latter as several patrons interrupt them, asking for a picture or autograph to accompany their lattes and creamy frappucinos. As Steve acquiesces, Bucky leans back and crosses his arms, scowling as he refuses to engage. 

You grin. You kind of get the dude. You hate people, hate the city and the pedants looking for their fifteen minutes or living the delusion that their New York adventure is destined for greatness. You glance back at the page but your eyes don’t focus on the words. 

It’s why you can’t be with Steve. Why you don’t want to be. You just want to watch. You don’t like being noticed. Hate the idea of being watched. You’re not a part of the show, you like being just another faceless figure in the audience. 

Your eyes flick back up. Steve is back to leaning over his cup, an Americano, how fitting. His large hand punctuates whatever point he’s making as you admire the vein in his neck, just above his collar. 

You’re startled as Bucky rests his chin in his hand and you meet his gaze. You don’t react and hide behind the book again. Maybe a bit too obvious. 

You pretend to read for a few minutes then reach for your phone, checking the time. You should leave first. You close the book without marking the page and take your water and cookie and put it in your bag, the patched messenger showing its years. 

It rests against your hip as you stroll out, ignoring the super soldiers until you’re outside. You peek back as you pass the window and Bucky squints at you. What the fuck is his problem? You tuck your head down and continue down the sidewalk. You’ll have to be careful about him. 

📷

You close your journal and tuck it under your mattress. The bed takes up much of your bachelor apartment. You don’t mind the lack of space, it’s just you. It’s preferable to your previous roommates who assured you cohabitation is little more than a form of torture. 

You climb off the twin mattress and stretch as you go to the corner which constitutes your kitchen; a microwave above a compact stove, a fridge that looks straight out of the 60s, and a foot long countertop under a single cupboard. Not much but you often forget to eat as your mind overshadows any physical needs. 

You tear open a package of ramen and add water, shoving it in the nuke as you turn to lean against the counter. Your tall dresser holds most of your possessions, clothes, the pictures, your equipment, and a few toys. Nothing special, just like you. 

The microwave beeps and you put the bowl on the counter. You grab your phone and return, eating at the kitchenette as you slouch to keep from dribbling. You scroll through your phone, several alerts for Steve Rogers in the news. 

‘Cap’s UN Mission: Can he restore America’s repute on the international stage?’ You browse the article and a smile slowly forms as you forget your food and stand, lifting the phone as you search for more.  

The media really is dangerous, you muse. There are exact dates for the conference and Cap’s appearances. That means his place will be empty. It means you’ll be living it up, at least for a few days. 

📷

It’s been more than a month since your first visit to Steve’s apartment. Nothing’s changed and you feel a little less restless there. You know he won’t be back anytime soon so there’s no rush to do much more than bask in the remnants of his presence. 

You can still smell him on the bed sheets and his dirty clothes are still in the hamper. You sort through them, feeling them, sniffing a few shirts. You push the basket back into the corner and search the drawers of his nightstand. Lube, some porn magazines, relics really, and some random odds and ends.  

You go out to the front room and lay on the couch, flicking on the television. The Smithsonian channel. Predictable. You leave it there and watch the hour-long program on clockmaking. Riveting. 

You don’t pay much attention as you stare at the ceiling and think about him. It was that couch where he fucked her. On her knees, clinging to the back as he let loose his strength, not a care for her. You haven’t seen her since. She must’ve expected something different; maybe to be doted on. Pathetic. 

Your hand wanders along the edge of the cushion. Your fingertips brush fabric in the crease of the cushions and you sit up as you pull out the lacy thong. You hold it up and stand, looking down as you hang them against your jeans as if you were wearing them. For him. 

You scoff and bunch them up, tossing them behind the couch. Yeah right. You’re not some leggy blonde, you’re just you. You’d look stupid in something like that. 

Men always looked past you, through you. It’s why you didn’t bother. High school was a farce; shoved into lockers or chased out of school dances. And college, just an extension of the crushing social norms and ridiculous expectations.  

You kissed one guy in your sophomore year but he was worse off than you. You never saw him again after he came in pants just from having your tongue on his. Why would you want some dweeb like that? You’d rather settle for being alone than some freak. 

You sigh as you cross your arms and flop back on the couch. You think too much. This is supposed to be fun, so why does it make you feel so… alone? 

Reality splinters as your heart lurches. Shit. You hear a key in the lock and the sharp turn of the mechanism. Shit! You stand and panic as the door opens, too stunned to react as you trip over the leg of the chair as you try to hide too late. You hit your knees and look up at the figure in the entryway. 

“What the fuck?” the deep voice cuts through you. “Who the fuck are you?” 

Bucky comes into the room and stops short. He tilts his head as you stand, putting your palms out defensively, “look, I was just leav–” 

He’s barreling towards you and you stumble back frantically. He grabs the front of your hoodie and takes you off your feet as he shakes you, like a rat in the gutter. You grasp his thick wrists as you gape at him, speechless. 

“I know you,” he says as recognition wrinkles in his forehead, “I knew you were up to something.” 

“You’re not supposed to be here,” you say. 

“Me? I’m watering the plants,” he spits, “what the fuck are you doing here?” 

“Please, I swear, I wasn’t going to do anything–” 

“Shut up!” he snaps and shoves you into the leather chair, looming over you as he clenches the front of your sweater. 

“Let me go and I’ll never come back,” you beg and round your eyes and make your voice higher, just like you’ve seen other women do. You always looked younger than your age. “Please–” 

He scoffs and shakes his head, “I said, shut up.” 

His tone keeps any further plea muted. He glares at you, nostrils flaring as his thoughts swirl in his deep blue irises. He unfurls his fingers and draws his hands away rigidly as he stands straight. 

“Don’t fucking move,” he warns as he combs his fingers through his hair. He watches you for a moment before he looks around and grumbles under his breath, “don’t have the fucking time for this.” 

[bucks-babe]

How Can I Forget You?

Follow my sideblog @bucks-babesideblog for updates on when I post

Pairing: Bucky x reader x Steve, Stucky x reader, Stucky

Summary: I literally don’t know how to summarize this. 40’s Bucky and Steve go to war, then you know what happens to them, Ladybird is left in the 40’s. Steve and Bucky are in the future. Will they get their Ladybird back?

Warnings: Angst (a lot of it), fluff, poly relationship, pre serum Steve, 40’s Bucky and Steve, 21st century!Bucky and Steve, some gay sex because it was getting too sad (anal fingering, anal, grinding naked), Peggy was never with Steve, implied suicide by alcohol, death of the reader in the 40’s, pet names (darling, ladybird, dumpling), crying, Jewish!Bucky, nostalgia, time jumps, happy ending because who do you think I am, I am not paying for anyone's therapy just so you know

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: There is no mention of the reader's body type nor race. Part of this fic does take place in the 40's, but I wanted to have a blank reader so that readers from any race can imagine themselves as Ladybird. There is no mention of period related homophobia because this shit was already too damn sad. If I missed any warnings, please let me know becuase I know that this fic is angsty and I want to make sure that everyone knows what they are getting into. Thanks to @buckys-wintersoldier for sacrificing her mental health for this fic 🤘

“Stevie, have I ever told you how pretty your eyes are?” Steve blushes and hides his face in Bucky’s chest, breathing in his woodsy scent. “Don’t hide from me, punk, can’t see those pretty eyes anymore.” Running his fingers through Steve’s soft hair and trailing his hand down to the back of the smaller man’s neck, he gently brings his head back up, appreciating the soft, pink glow on his lover’s cheeks.

“Buck,” Steve trails off, not able to form a complete sentence when Bucky is looking at him like this - like he is gorgeous and not scrawny or undesirable. He doesn’t fight when Bucky brings their lips together, moaning at the taste of Bucky’s last cigarette. His eyes flutter as they pull away, both of their pupils blown, lips swollen and cheeks red. “You know, smoking is bad for you.”

Bucky grabs Steve and lays down on the couch, Steve resting between his legs. “I’m going to live until I’m 100, Stevie, smoking or not. You, my dear, are the one we need to worry about.”

“Like hell, you’re going to live that long with those habits. I’m healthy, it’s the doctors that keep telling me I’m not fit to join the army.” Bucky sighs. No matter how much he tries to stop Steve from enlisting, it never works. Not even their Ladybird can convince him.

“Stevie, please. I don’t want to hear anymore talk about this. Not today.” It’s their Ladybird that speaks, voice thick with emotion, yet stern. Neither of her boys would disobey her. She sets the tray with their sandwiches down and quickly leaves the room, palms frantically trying to smooth her dress down, pressing wrinkles that don’t exist.

Today was the day that Bucky had to leave. He didn’t enlist, not when his Ladybird wanted him at home, safe with her and Steve. She was terrified that he wouldn’t come home, leaving her and Steve behind.

But Steve was more stubborn than his man, not accepting staying at home when the men of his country are risking their lives. He needed to protect his country. “Stay here, dumpling.” Leaving a kiss on his forehead, Bucky follows Ladybird into the kitchen.

Two strong arms wrap around her waist and the tears she was desperate to hold in, cascade down her cheeks, ruining the makeup she spent so much time on. She was trying to be strong for him, support him before sending him off, but it was too much. Knowing that he could be killed at any moment, and these could be her final memories of him, was too overwhelming.

“I know, Ladybird, I know. I promise you that I’ll come home, okay? I can’t leave my best girl and guy alone.” She turns in his arms and his calloused palms rest on her cheeks, thumbs wiping away the stream of mascara running down her face.

“Steve, he, he can’t enlist, Buck. He just can’t. How am I supposed to stay here knowing that the loves of my life are out there, getting shot at, bombs going off, huh?” Steve sneaks in, snaking his arms around her waist.

“For you, Ladybird, I won’t. I’ll wait here with you, send Bucky letters, keep you safe, okay?” She knew it was a lie; Steve could never lie, but she chose to believe him in that moment. Maybe for her own sanity, or maybe just to savor the last moments she would ever get to spend with her men.

She was Bucky off, waving to him when he boarded the train, but when Steve left the house for errands she knew where he was going - she never saw him again, but she knew it was for his love for her and Bucky. She didn’t blame him.

***

When Steve woke up from the ice, the first thing he did was see if his Ladybird was still alive. From the moment he got the serum, he regretted lying to her. He knew when he looked in her eyes, she knew what he was going to do; she accepted his choice. It was who he was and she wouldn’t dream of him being anything else.

He cried that night, when Fury gave him the documents he so graciously printed from Google. Ladybird died only a few years after he went on ice. She never moved on. They said it was a broken heart, but the 40’s would never report a woman drinking herself to death, wallowing in the sorrow of lost love.

It was his fault. Maybe she could have healed from the loss of Bucky if he was there. It would never take away the pain, but she would have one of them, but he left her behind. He would visit her grave daily; her body six feet below him, wearing the dog tags of her lovers.

The pain was eased when he found Bucky. They had each other. Even when he couldn’t remember much, Bucky remembered his Ladybird. Steve wishes he could forget the day he had to tell the man he loved that their girl was dead.

“I still want to be with you, Steve.” It took a while before Bucky was stable enough to choose to love again, but it was never a hard decision. The love for Steve too much to ignore.

Their first time was much different from the 40’s. They both changed so much - Steve more so than Bucky. They couldn’t get each other naked fast enough, kisses and loving touches scattered throughout.

Bucky didn’t feel embarrassed by his arm, not when Steve’s eyes were filled with so much love and lust. Bucky had to look away, his eyes landing on his boyfriend’s cock. “Oh my god, Steve!” He didn’t mean to gawk but he couldn’t help it. Steve went from slightly below average to very much above it. Long and thick, veins pulsing through his cock, supplying enough blood to keep his large erection up.

“What? Oh.” Steve’s signature blush crept up his cheeks just like it used to. Even though his body changed so dramatically, he was still the same boy from Brooklyn Bucky fell in love with. “You’re bigger too, Buck.” Steve shied away from Bucky’s gaze, worried about how Bucky’s cock was going to fit inside of him.

“It hasn’t changed that much, dumpling.” It was almost true. Bucky was always above average - maybe seven inches. He was always thick, but now? His cock looked like it doubled in thickness, and around an inch added to his length.

“Yeah, right.” Bucky beamed at Steve as he became more comfortable under Bucky’s gaze.

“Well, how about we compare sizes then?” They both groan at the first contact in years, dicks pressed against each other. “Won’t you look at that, you’re bigger than me, dumpling.” Steve’s face scrunched in confusion, trying to focus through the haze of pleasure. There was no way that he was bigger than Bucky.

Nonetheless, Steve looks down, almost cumming at the sight of his lover’s cock leaking onto his. His eyes widened; he was bigger than Bucky. It was only by an inch, even with the serum thickening his cock, Bucky was still much thicker. “Good boy, see how pretty your cock is? Fuck, missed you so much.”

Bucky groans in between words as he grinds against Steve, cock pushed harder against his. Steve’s hands find the sides of Bucky’s face, pulling him down in a heated kiss while ropes of his cum shoot out onto both of their stomachs and chests. Bucky follows right after, not able to handle the pleasure the simple grind of their hips brings him as they both share their first orgasm since the 40’s.

He collapses on Steve’s chest while they both catch their breath. “Darling, I need your cock in me. Need to feel how you stretch me out.” Bucky’s cock instantly hardens.

“Fuck, dumpling, we don’t have lube.” Even in his lust filled state, Bucky knows that going any further would hurt.

“Don’t need it. Look at all our cum.” Bucky looks down and whimpers. The serum really did a number on them. His first orgasm in 80 years was a lot. The mixture of their cum was dripping down Steve’s sides and leaking down Bucky’s chest. He quickly dips down to get a mouthful of their cum, moaning as he shares it with Steve. “You taste just as good as I remember, Buck.”

Bucky scoops a generous amount onto two of his fingers while Steve eagerly spreads his legs, presenting his tight hole to his partner. At this moment, it’s just the two of them. The pain of their Ladybird is gone, if only momentarily.

The moan that leaves Steve’s lips as Bucky’s first finger breeches his hole is almost enough to have him cumming untouched. He doesn’t know how long he stretches Steve out for, but it was enough time to have Steve cumming on his chest again, giving Bucky more lube to use.

“Ready, dumpling? Ready for your sergeant’s cock?” Steve only moans, frantically nodding his head. No one would have thought that the tough captain was so submissive in bed. Bucky strokes his cock with Steve’s spend a few times before lining up with his stretched out hole.

He meets little resistance as his tip slips in. “Fuck, Steve. Think you’re even fucking tighter.” He has to close his eyes, balls pulsing and pulling up already. Steve’s tight ass ready to suck all of his cum out.

“Uh, uh, just bigger. So much bigger.” Steve’s mind was empty, only wanting his ass full. He cries when Bucky hikes his legs up, wanting to be as close as possible. “Wait, please.” Bucky immediately eases his cock out, knowing that he’s a lot bigger to take now. After a few minutes, Steve’s breath evens out and his eyes lock with Bucky’s, nodding at his lover.

As gently as he can, Bucky slides back inside his ass, slowly feeding Steve inch after inch. “How full are you, Stevie?” It wasn’t smug; Bucky needed to know that Steve was okay. Leaning down, Bucky presses his forehead against Steve’s, staring into his eyes. Tears fall from both of their eyes, connected so intimately again.

“So full, Buck.” He leans up to capture Bucky’s lips in a kiss, neither able to think straight, let alone kiss properly.

“I love you so fucking much, dumpling.” Steve cries out, hips jerking in an attempt to take more of his sergeant’s dick. As Bucky’s hips rest against Steve’s center, they both cum, chanting each other’s name like a mantra, whispers of their love passed back and forth. Neither of them can stop, trying to make up for all the years spent apart. All the years each spent mourning the loss of the other.

By the end of the night, they’re both spent. Cuddled in each other’s arms, Bucky is the first to break the silence. “Is it just me, or does this almost feel wrong without Ladybird?”

“It does, but she wouldn’t want us to stop loving each other.” Bucky doesn’t respond, caught up in his own mind. The pain from losing their Ladybird would never go away and they both knew that.

***

“Dumpling, you should stay there.” It’s said so quietly that if Steve wasn’t a super soldier he wouldn’t have heard him.

“Excuse me?” Steve pulls away, quickly sitting up in the bed.

“You should stay with her. You deserve it - she deserves it.” Bucky hangs his head, not able to look Steve in the eyes.

“And you don’t?”

“No. After all I’ve done, I’d only taint her. She doesn’t deserve that.” It was a decision that Bucky thought long and hard about.

“You think she would believe that? That I would? I just lost you, Buck and you’re asking me to do it again.” Steve stands and paces around the room, not able to comprehend what his boyfriend was saying.

“Think about it, Stevie. At least she would have one of us. You know what happened when she found out we both were ‘dead.’”

“Drop it, okay?” And Bucky did, but he planted the seed inside Steve’s mind.

***

“I’ll never stop loving you, Darling.” Bucky nodded, failing to hold in his tears, knowing that this was the last time he was going to see his best guy.

“Take care of her for me, yeah?”

“You know I will.” He grabs Bucky’s face, sharing their last kiss, tears mixing together. “And don’t do anything stupid until I get back.” His voice cracks, saying his final goodbye.

Bucky swallows hard. “How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.” He caresses Steve’s cheek once more and pats it, letting his hand fall down. They look at each other in silence, burning this memory into their brains.

He can’t bear to look at Bucky when he gets on the pad.

***

Steve’s throat is tight as he looks at his old brownstone. His Ladybird is right behind the door, having no idea who is outside. He picks up the spare key - exactly where it always was.

He has to close his eyes, taking in the familiar scent of the home he shared with his two loves. Stepping over the threshold, he sees her and his breath gets caught in his throat. “Ladybird?” He doesn’t even recognize his own voice, so unsure and in disbelief of what he was seeing.

Her head whips around; the dish she was washing shatters as it hits the ground. “Stevie?” His feet are glued to the ground, back hitting the closed door as he tries not to fall to his knees. “Is it really you?” Unlike him, Ladybird sprints to him, her dress fluttering at the speed she moves, the dog tags of her lovers jiggle with every step.

She almost tackles him to the ground, arms intertwined around his neck, legs clutching his waist. He catches her easily, his own arms squeezing her to his chest. Both of their sobs mix together as Steve drops down on the couch, legs no longer able to hold him up. “I thought you were dead. They send soldiers here and everything.” Steve couldn’t form an explanation, too caught up in her entire being.

He can only pull her into a kiss. It was messy, full of tears and snot, but neither of them cared. She didn’t know how long he waited for this moment. They held each other for hours, crying and kissing. Eventually, she fell asleep in his arms.

Steve didn’t have it in him to put her down as he went around the house. Everything was just as he remembered. The kitchen table, engraved with all their initials, still had three chairs around it, each one in different states of ruin - Bucky always flopped in his chair leaving the legs wobbly. Steve’s favorite mug sat on the lowest shelf, right where pre-serum Steve could reach, even though Bucky loved to put it up higher so that Steve had to ask for his help.

The living room still held the old rickie bookshelf that Ladybird insisted that she could put together by herself, no matter how many times her men offered help. Upon it was Bucky’s first edition copy of The Hobbit. He and Ladybird would always make fun of him for how much time, money, and effort he spent just to get that book - Steve placed it in a box along with the recipes from Mrs. Barnes.

The bedroom made his breath hitch, his arms instinctively holding Ladybird closer. His favorite chair, ripped in multiple spots, sat in the corner of the room, right by the window. Right next to it was his stand where his old sketchbook sat untouched - he put that in the box too. Bucky’s side of the closet hung his clothes, neatly arranged in order of his favorites, while Steve’s clothes lay on the ground in a pile, always too lazy to fold them.

The top left dresser draw held the photo album Ladybird made them for Christmas/Hanukkah - that went in the box. Ladybird’s jewelry box had a necklace with the Star of David that she saved for to get Bucky on his birthday. Bucky gave it back to her before he left for safekeeping - in the box it went. On top of the dresser were all the letters she sent to Bucky and Steve, along with the letters they sent her. The army gave them back to her with their dog tags - Steve made sure to not damage them as they were placed in the box.

***

The team shared gasps and whispers between themselves as Steve reappeared with a woman in one arm and a small box in the other. He whispers something in her ear before pointing in the distance.

A gorgeous smile graces her lips as her eyes meet Steve’s target. She doesn’t hesitate to sprint across the grass, bare feet and ignoring all of the Avengers. Bucky doesn’t hear the beat of her steps, overwhelmed at the loss of both of his partners.

He doesn’t know what hit him as he falls to the ground. Kisses are placed all over his face. For a second, he thinks that he’s dreaming because he would know her smell anywhere, the feeling of her lips ingrained in his mind. But even in his dreams, he couldn’t hear her voice, always muffled and distant, but it was clear as day as he lay on the soft ground.

“Bucky!” He has to grab her face to stop her assault, pulling her back far enough to confirm that it was real, that his Ladybird was in his arms.

“Bird? Oh my god.” He pulls her back down, showering her with affection, practically rolling them around in the grass, not caring about the audience that slowly surrounded them. “I’ve missed you so much.”

Her tears come back once again. His hair was longer, worry lines sprinkled around his face, cool metal pressed against her right cheek, his right hand more callused than before. Steve told her a bit about what happened, about how Bucky lost his arm, how insecure he felt because of it.

Without pause, she tilts her head, soft lips placed delicately on his metal palm. “You’re as beautiful as the day I lost you.” Stuck in their own little bubble, they don’t notice Steve laying beside them until his arms wrap around them both.

With one look he gets the rest of the Avengers to leave them in peace. Unlike his past self, Steve could lie when he needed to. He knew that Bucky wouldn’t have let him go to return the stones if he knew Steve wasn’t going to stay. Laying a kiss to Bucky’s forehead, Steve takes in the sight before him, all of them together at last.

“Bucky, you were right. I did take all the stupid with me.” Bucky’s tear streaked face looks over at his partner.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, dumpling.” For the first time since before the war, all three of them felt at peace, finally in each other’s arms again. It may have taken 80 some years, but none of them would change a thing if there was even the smallest chance that they wouldn’t end up together.

[heavyhitterheaux]

Under the Influence (Slight NSFW)

First Lady of Private Garden Fic

AN: a little twist on the pheromone perfume trend 🤭

Synopsis: An argument earlier in the day is still lingering in the air as Jack tells you his plans for the rest of the night. However, once you get a whiff of his new cologne, you quickly try to put a stop to them.

Pairing: Husband!Jack Harlow x Wife!Reader

Requested by: a beautiful anon ����

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

Tension was lingering in the air as you eyed Jack as he walked into your shared bedroom. The argument that had taken place earlier left the two of you not speaking to one another since early in the afternoon. You wanted to put an end to it because the last thing that you ever wanted to do was fight with your husband.

“Um, babe? Where are you going?” You asked as you sat up from your position on the couch in the corner of the bedroom as you saw him getting an outfit together.

“The Hub. I'm doing a set.” He quietly responded as he took off his shirt and threw it into the hamper without bothering to look over at you.

“Since when? You didn't tell me that.”

“Aren't you going out with Taylor? I only did it because I thought you told me you would be with her. Besides I do recall earlier you saying that you didn't want to be around me. So I'm doing what I was told.”

“Well that was earlier and I want to call a truce. You had an entire attitude with me for no reason. But no, she had to reschedule. I thought we could stay in with it being just us. We haven't had a night to ourselves in a while.” You told him as he walked over towards you with an expression on his face that you couldn't quite read.

“Y/N, I dropped the triplets off with my parents so I could go.”

“I-... not you calling me by my first name. Well, can't you do it another day?” You asked as you wrapped your arms around him. But it didn’t look like you were about to change his mind.

“When I stop being mad at you, that's when your name goes back to being baby. And no, I already told them I was coming.” He replied as he moved your hands away from him.

“But…”

“I have to get ready so I won't be late. Call hot chips and bad decisions.”

“They're busy and I want my husband.”

“Hmm, tough because you said the opposite earlier.” Jack replied as he walked away from you and headed towards the bathroom as you rolled your eyes.

“I know you rolled your eyes at me and if you keep doing it they're going to get stuck like that.”

“You weren't even looking at me!”

“Doesn't matter. How long have I known my wife? Since I was fourteen? I know you like the back of my hand.”

A few minutes later, you heard the shower turn on and you went back to reading your book as you sighed. This had been your first night without the triplets in a while and as much as you were trying to take advantage of it, your husband wasn't budging.

When Jack walked out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, you slowly lowered your book so that you could look at him. He wasn't paying you any attention and it made you feel some type of way.

“Smush?”

“Yes?”

“You still have an attitude with me but I want a kiss.”

“You'll get one before I leave and no I don't.”

“Yes you do! And you NEVER deny giving me kisses. Stop being mad at me!” You whined as you put your book down next to you and pouted as you crossed your arms.

“No one is denying you anything. I'm trying to hurry up so I won't be late.”

“You hate me.”

As those words left your mouth, Jack slowly turned his head to look at you and gave you a blank stare.

“If I hated you, we wouldn't be married. Stop saying stupid shit that isn't true. Starting to piss me off all over again.”

You made a face at him before proceeding to pick up your book once more to let Jack finish getting ready. When he was fully dressed, you got a whiff of his cologne as he put it on and it immediately made you stop in your tracks.

Got damn he smelled good.

“Is that new?” You asked him and all he did was shake his head no.

“I've had it for a while, just never used it. Got it in Cannes.”

As Jack turned around to come towards you, he was startled as he noticed that you were now next to him and wrapped your arms around him once more.

“Who are you wearing that for!?”

“Do not fucking start.”

“That smells really good. Can I have my kiss now or multiple? Or you can just take my clothes off too. Whatever works.” You said as you squeezed him tighter.

“I… what?”

“I don't want you to leave.”

“I'm giving you a kiss and then I'll see you when I come back but you'll probably be asleep.”

“But…”

“Take it or leave it.”

“Fine.” You mumbled as Jack leaned down to kiss you and you made sure to keep a tight hold on him. He noticed that you wouldn't let him go and simply placed several more kisses on your lips.

“Y/N, I can't go anywhere if you don't let me leave.”

“I know that's the entire point. How long will you be gone? And stop calling me Y/N!”

“Not that long. The sooner you let me go, the sooner I come back and that was the name you were given at birth.”

“Actually it wasn't, but that's a whole nother story. My mother, well grandmother changed it. But I don't think you need to go anywhere anymore.”

Jack let out a frustrated sigh as he wiggled out of your grasp.

All you did was go and stand in front of the bedroom door and cross your arms.

“What…. What are you doing?”

“Standing here so you can't leave.”

“That's cute. Really cute actually.”

“I'm not cute, I'm horny and you are NOT fulfilling your duties as my husband!” You explained to him and he did not look impressed.

“Remember what you said earlier or do I have to remind you again?” He replied as he checked the time on his phone.

“Well that was earlier and now I want you to rearrange my guts.”

All Jack did was walk over towards you and you thought he was leaning down to kiss you, however he simply picked you up and moved you to the side but not before leaning down to whisper in your ear.

“Excuse me, little one.”

“I… JACKMAN!”

“See you when I get back and stop all that yelling.” Jack replied as he was walking down the steps and you were right behind him.

“Nooooo! We're not done here! Just put the tip in!”

“You are no better than a man, I swear.” As he went to open the door, you hugged him from behind.

“Babyyyyy! Pookie! Smush!”

“No.”

“Damn, you probably won't even let me suck your dick so I know you're mad at me. You probably put that cologne on to find another wife.”

“Your mouth gets you in so much damn trouble sometimes.” Jack responded as he turned around to see you looking up at him.

“But, it also gets me out of it.”

“Hmm.”

“Hmm, what?”

Before he responded to you, he took hold of your neck and lightly squeezed it.

“I will put you through the fucking mattress and you won't be able to walk properly for a week if you keep playing with me.”

You couldn't help but to smirk at him knowing that it would piss him off more.

“Who's playing, babe? Certainly not me. You got your wife so wet right now and she can't understand for the life of her why you won't do anything about it.”

By this point, you knew he was completely done with you with the way his neck vein was protruding, indicating his frustration.

“Don't you want to see how wet I am?” You asked as you grabbed his hand and moved it to the waistband of your shorts.

When you heard him sigh, you knew that you had won.

“Get on the couch and do not making a fucking sound or I'll stop. Face down, ass up. I have ten minutes.”

“Yesssss! I knew you'd fold. With the way things are going, you're probably going to make me come undone in five.”

“This doesn't change anything and I’m still mad at you.”

“We'll see about that in ten minutes.”

“I'm definitely wearing this cologne every day if this is your reaction to it.”

“Jackman, we will end up with twenty children if you do that.”

“Doesn't bother me. I love how you look when you're pregnant. And your boobs will probably get even bigger so it's a win for me.”

“Hmm, just like a man.” You mumbled as you rolled your eyes as the two of you were now on the couch.

“Well you were yelling at me to just put the tip in earlier so you aren't any better.”

“And I'd do it again too.”

[silverskyeline]

I've recently lost a pet, my cat, and greiving quite a bit. i was wondering if you could do a super fluffy wolverine fic of him just saying everythings gonna be ok, it sounds silly now im typing this lol <3

I love your fics btw!!!! :3

hey anon <3 i am so so sorry for your loss, i've been there and i know how hard it is. it's not silly at all!! i hope this fic is okay for you, ily and i hope you're looking after yourself! please take care!

ੈ♡˳ 'grief' - logan howlett x gn!reader

summary: logan wants to help comfort you, the way that you often comfort him. (930 words) tags: logan comforts you, fluffy, chaste kisses, gentle touches, very brief mention of grief, very brief mention of loss, established relationship.

logan's eyes flutter open, almost on instinct. when he glances to the side, his suspicions are confirmed - you've been awake for a while. he can tell by the way your eyes scan the ceiling above you, tracing patterns and cracks in the paint like they're highways you're speeding down to escape the thoughts in your head. he knows that look because he too often finds himself speeding down those same highways.

he turns, wrapping a thick arm around your waist to pull you closer, nuzzling his stubble into the base of your neck. he takes a deep breath, encouraging you to do the same. when your chest rises with his, he exhales deeply, pressing a soft kiss to your skin in praise.

"mornin', bub," he whispers, his voice soft, a tone he reserves only for you, even more so on days like these.

you rest your head upon the top of his in a silent reply, cheek nestling against his fluffy hair. you breathe in his scent, relishing in the way it's so familiar and grounding to you.

his arm squeezes around you, eyes flitting up to your face, taking in your weathered expression. he wishes he could take away those dark thoughts in your head, the feelings that weigh you down - but he knows it ain't that simple, been there himself way too many times to foolishly believe otherwise. logan thinks of all the times you've held him, your gentle reassurances, how easy it seems to come to you to offer that comfort.

he wants to do the same for you.

"it's gonna be okay," he hums, punctuating his words with delicate, chaste kisses to your neck, "i know it. . . it hurts right now, darlin', i know it does. it's. . . alright to hurt."

logan curses himself internally, he wasn't good at this shit - wanted to be as good as you were, saw how the words came naturally to you. meanwhile, he's flipping through every single word he's ever known and nothing feels right.

"you don't need to hurt alone, though," he continues, swallowing the doubt he holds in his abilities, "you know i'm here. . ." lifting his head, he looks into your eyes, "you know i got you."

your eyes meet and you can tell he means it, really means it. he's trying hard, trying so hard. an honest crooked smile curls on his lips, one that's all logan, and it threatens a smile on your lips too.

you take a moment to feel him beside you, to get lost in the peacefulness that his company allows so naturally. his heartbeat is calm yet firm against your arm that finds itself pressed against his chest, the gentle 'thump thump' lulling you.

"that grief you got in your chest," he presses a large palm against your torso as though he can feel it - and in a way he can, you're connected enough emotionally that he can often tell what you're really feeling before you know it yourself, finding clues in the way your shoulders tense or the subtle tremble in your hands, "you can share it with me, y'know."

the palm on your chest travels upwards to cup your cheek, brushing a calloused thumb across your soft skin, "listen to me, everythin' is gonna be okay, you hear me?" his tone turns firm, but still loving, "i've lost enough people to know how fuckin' hard it is, it eats away at you, feels like you're chokin' on words unspoken or things you coulda' done or things you didn't do but. . . in the end, you loved 'em. they knew that."

the words hit you, emphasised by the delicate tone of his voice. you bask in the comfort he provides.

logan leans down to press a tender kiss to your forehead, lingering there a moment in the hopes that somehow it helps his words sink in. "i know i ain't good at this kinda thing, darlin' - but. . ." he pulls back, vulnerability etched on his face as his eyes link with yours, "i just. . . i guess what i'm tryin' to say is i'm. . . here for you."

and you know he is, sometimes it's hard to believe. logan, the wolverine, a man who once kept everyone at arm's length and vowed never to let anyone in again is here now, in bed, with you, comforting you with thoughtful words and soft touches.

you know he means what he says, because displaying softness is not something that comes easy to him, it's not something he allows himself to be around others. but with you? it's different.

"let's make you some breakfast, huh?" he peppers soothing kisses across your face, over your forehead, down along the slope of your nose, across your cheeks. . . hoping to elicit a smile, something that tells him he's breaking through that tough exterior you've built to keep yourself in that dark place.

and it works, because a ghost of a smile tugs at your lips.

logan smiles in silent victory, finally pressing a kiss to your lips before sitting up, taking your hand in his, "c'mon, let me spoil you today."

you reluctantly ease out of bed, following him - because you know he's right, everything will be okay. the fog will clear, little by little, navigating your way to sunny skies in time. and though the grief remains, it morphs. instead of reminding you of what you've lost, it reminds you of the good it gifted you, and the good that you too, shared with them.

[toxicanonymity]

neighbor stuff

800 words, joel x f!reader, early night walks au

WARNINGS: I8+, reefer, joel POV (smutty thots & moves), OOC wardrobe.

join the manspreading olympics (this fic only implies it)

Joel didn’t follow you to the grocery store. He was there first, and he was just about to drive off when he saw you park your car. Now he sits on a bench and lights up a joint while you shop. He stretches his arm out and looks at the sky to exhale, then closes his eyes. How'd he get so lucky that a cool chick like you, with a fine ass like yours, was walking around his neighborhood? Just waiting to be swept off her feet and into his basement. . .

His mind wanders to a highlight reel of the moment before he kissed you, when he saw the last of the uncertainty leave your eyes, overtaken completely by yearning for him. And then, your first kiss. God damn, the way you melted into him. The heat between you as your bodies came together. The way you got on top, completely giving into what you wanted so bad.

Bad girl. So bad. So fucking hot.

Blood rushes to his loins. His smoking hand flexes with the muscle memory of your plush asscheek.

He looks down at the swell in his pants. Didn’t mean for this to happen, not here at least. He shoves his free hand into his pocket to adjust himself, just in time to see you walking toward him. Shit, he mutters to himself. You’re just as hot in the daylight.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, and he takes it in stride. You may sound disinterested, but once again, your body’s saying something else: you stopped at his bench when you could’ve kept walking.

“Buyin’ shaving cream and tangerines.”

“Right,” you deadpan, looking at his lack of grocery bags, which are in his car. Your eyes linger on his pants, you naughty girl.

“Take a seat, pumpkin.” He nods to the spot next to him and offers you the joint.

“I can’t,” you respond half-heartedly, but you keep standing there. . ..

He blatantly checks you out, letting his head tilt down then back up as his eyes rove your body. He wets his lips, pinches the joint out, then puts it behind his ear.

“Least lemme walk ya to your car.” Your eyes follow his hand when he adjusts himself as he stands up, then you abruptly look away.

He reaches for a grocery bag. You don’t hand it to him, but he slips a couple of his fingers into the plastic handle anyway, brushing your hand, then you let him take it. He passes the bag to his far hand as you begin to walk side by side, and he puts his closer hand on your back.

You don’t move away, but your jaw tenses.

“What do you want?” you ask as you reach your car and open it.

He gets closer. His hand slides slowly down your back and pauses just above your ass.

He leans in and his voice drops. “Want ya to come over again.”

You let him have the briefest little squeeze, then glance over your shoulder toward the store as you twist your hips away. "I'm sure you do," you say under your breath. You take the grocery bag from him and put it in the car, then look him in the eyes. Your face sure is pretty. And those eyes. They sure do want him.

He's admiring your lips when you ask, “What?”

He shrugs then shifts on his feet. “Can I get your number?”

You laugh silently with a small shake of your head.

“You're breakin’ my heart, pumpkin,” he laughs with you. "Hey, what if I gotta tell ya somethin'? Neighbor type stuff... Could be important."

Yeah, okay. You won't give it to him this time.

Your eyes linger on his chain, then he could swear your voice takes on the slightest sultry edge when you reply, “You know where I live.” He raises his eyebrows, and you add, “Creep.”

You turn toward your car to close the trunk/hatch.

“Yeah,” he agrees, moving back into your personal space, from behind. “I know where to find ya.”

His pulse quickens at the possibilities as his body is drawn even closer to yours. You don't move an inch as he gently presses himself against your ass, and his fingers rest lightly on your hip.

He inhales your scent, his lips brush your hair, and he murmurs, “That what I should do? .... Come ‘n’ find ya?”

You don't say no.

You take a deep breath, then slightly tilt your head, just enough that he can see the hunger in your gaze. Hell yeah, of course that's what you want.

God damn, he could do it right here. But not this time.

You swallow and mutter, “I've gotta go,” then step away from him.

That's okay. He'll find you.

“I can do that,” he promises, and you ignore it.

He puts his hands in his pockets and turns to walk away. Yeah, he’ll "find you" alright.

Hell yeah, that's even better. You're perfect, you know. God damn, you're hot.

---------

Ty for reading 🖤

[spritesitrus]

Heyo!

What's a headcanon/story about your Koopalings, that no one has asked the right question yet, for you to tell about?

(Like, you have a headcanon about their favourite foods or something, but no one has asked about that yet)

I totally forgot to share their dynamics like long ago so quick chart I made to quickly summarize the more important dynamics (plus some extra ones)

The last one is a little joke that goes with a short fic I was writing of the Koops worrying about Jr and Larry becoming adults since enough bad things have happened to the rest of them because of lore reasons™ (the point in which this fic takes place in my timeline is when everyone's doin' good tho so nothing to worry about)

Anyways I wanted to share some little tidbits of the fic cuz why not

Also as a treat, I will share some dumb trivia for them (I did already share some of Iggy's stuff before but I'll just leave it here since I just took it from these lol ToT) and I've included Jr as well!

Cooking Skills

Ludwig- Cooking hasn't been his strong suit for a long time and prefers to not “Meddle with those affairs”(his words). 

Lemmy- He's able to cook but usually only cooks stuff he knows and never really ventures out to try new things. But he's always happy to try if it's something everyone agrees on wanting to eat. 

Morton- Used to suck but has become the best chef out of all of them. He enjoys cooking for others and always offers to do it. 

Roy- Can cook basic level things but he's not really good at it. He doesn't like waiting so sometimes it gets burnt. 

Iggy- Absolute dogshit at cooking. Do not let him near a stove unless you want something to blow up. 

Wendy- She's good at cooking but it's not something she likes doing regularly all the time. God forbid having to cook with her other siblings too, it'd just be chaos. 

Larry- Only knows how to use the michael wave.

Jr- He waits to be served.

Singing Voice (formatted this on an understanding that this is them having a karaoke night)

Ludwig- He's good at singing but I think it's one of those voices that are just decent in their own way rather than being outstanding. It's probably one of the few things Ludwig is okay about not being perfect. 

Lemmy- He's pretty tone deaf but he tries. Everyone cheers him on for his enthusiasm. 

Morton- He sings quietly but he's not actually half-bad. It's not something he really likes doing so he just lets anyone else sing if they want the mic. 

Roy- Not that great and he falsettos a lot. He probably steals the mic the most. 

Iggy- He's alright at singing but can’t reach high notes well and is quite flat. 

Wendy- The best singer out of them all. She has a powerful voice and is a showoff about it. 

Larry- His singing is quite nice but prefers rapping more. He's the type of mf who beatboxes at crazy speeds. 

Jr- He's actually pretty good at singing too but it embarrasses him the most since everyone is so enthusiastic for him when he does. 

Dance Skills

Ludwig- Only knows how to waltz because of course he does. Outside of that, he dances exactly like a dad. He makes sure to avoid Bowser during parties so the others can't compare them. 

Lemmy- A total dancing machine. He mostly likes to do break dancing and disco but can quickly pick up on other dances as well. 

Morton- Doesn't seem like someone who dances, but he will get down if the situation calls for it. 

Roy- A great dancer who always likes to show off whenever he's partying. He can breakdance, pop and lock, moonwalk, you name it, he can do it. He's also a really good teacher and teaches a dance class in his spare time. The only time he ever wanted to give up on a student was when he was teaching Iggy. 

Iggy- Can't dance for shit, like he literally has no rhythm. The only move he knows is the floss and it took the gang forever to teach him how in the first place. 

Wendy- A very graceful dancer and knows ballet. Though she's always ready to be on the dance floor too. How could she not when she and Roy are literally besties?

Larry- A pretty good dancer. He can pick up moves easily and knows how to groove. 

Jr- He tries to act too cool and cross his arms all like “Heh, I don't dance” but in reality, it's because he's embarrassed that he's a clumsy dancer. 

[orbitariums]

christopher moltisanti x black! reader (snippet) as promised literally LAST YEAR... i know my people are still waiting on it i'm so sorry for leaving yall hanging, gays can u ever forgive me?

this is a SNIPPET of the shit i literally started last week... there's room for improvement and hopefully this will force me to finish this. also if any of y'all are also into challengers, i've got some patrick zweig and art donaldson (x black reader) fic posted and more incoming ehehehe.

anyway. set in like s3/s4, when christopher was working in an office (completely blanking on when that actually was but you'll have to forgive me i literally started this last summer (and still haven't finished the sopranos because i am notoriously slow at finishing tv shows))

cappuccino w/ extra cream | christopher moltisanti x black!reader

contains: smut, mentions of racial tension, christopher is NOT an abusive racist in this sopranosverse <3

You and Christopher Moltisanti were not a predictable match. It was only by chance that you met, while he was ordering lunch at the bodega you worked at after he had scored a hit in your neighborhood. He knew better than to come back, especially just for you, but he did. Over and over he came in, ordering a turkey and cheese on a roll with extra relish, shoving an inappropriately large tip in the tip jar just for you— just enough times until you caved in and let him take you out to dinner.

Of course, your family had a fit, and you didn’t even want to think about what Christopher went through with his crew when it came time to finally tell them about his forbidden love life. But all of the ruckus had died down, and now between the two of your crews was this unspoken, stifled agreement that they would let this union exist in peace. It was the 90s for god’s sake, and Christopher was a stubborn mule. 

Once he knew what he wanted, there was no backing down, even if it made him look like an idiot to those whom he served. And by god, did he want you. He was obsessed with you. Always wining and dining you, showing you off without shame. Of course, you two had been through your ups and downs, but Christopher treated you right. You were probably the first woman he’d treated right, the first he cared for unconditionally. No pains in sight except those he took to spoil you and cherish you beyond the diamonds and Versace pumps he gifted you. Even Paulie could respect it, along with the rest. It’s partially why they left it alone, and even smiled and shook your hand when you showed up on his arm. He thought about you every waking moment, he was positively lovestruck. 

It was a slow day at the office. Already Christopher had to reprimand Thing One and Thing Two for trying to intimidate the new guy. He was secluded now in his office, scrolling aimlessly on his chunky desktop computer when he heard a knock at the door.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me, baby!” came your voice, tinkling like bells in his ear and positively soaring through the room from the other side of the door. 

Christopher stood up, standing straight as if he’d just downed a shot of espresso, and he had to physically resist flinging himself at the door for the sake of the guys outside who were watching him. He opened it, first looking past you and glaring at the guys who had frozen on their phones and computers, gaping at the sight of you being let into Christopher’s office. Like they’d never seen anybody before. 

“What are you jerkoffs looking at?” Christopher barked. “Get back to work!”

Immediately resumed the punching sounds of typing and the drawls of the sleazy salesmen on the phone with their poor customers. As if it were nothing, Christopher retreated back, facing you with a broad, charming smile.

“YN, baby… what are you doin’ here?” he asked, that dopey lover boy tinkle sneaking into his voice, which always did anytime he talked to you. He sounded like a completely different person— like the Chris he might have been if he weren’t born into the family he was born into. He took your arms into his hands, caressing them gently, softly smiling. “Here, come in.”

He opened the door wide enough for you to come in, glared at everyone once again when you walked past, and then closed it, clicking the door locked. Not that anyone would try to come in unannounced anyway.   

“Wanted to see you, that’s all,” you smiled, plush lips pressed against one another. “Got off work early, got you a capp and chocolate biscotti. Extra creamy, just how you like it.”

You sat down at the chair opposite his desk, setting down two coffee cups and a crinkly paper bag. Christopher felt like he was dreaming. His discontent seemed to fade away now that you were here— bright colors replaced the dull dram palette of his lonely office and he only had eyes for you. The smell of creamy espresso wafted towards him, mingling with the praline swirls of perfume that glided off of your pressure points. He was in Heaven— he was sure of it. All of his senses were overwhelmed by beauty when he was around you. 

“My girl. Always so sweet,” Christopher picked up a cup and sat down in his desk chair across from you. He pried open the lid and took a deep sniff, all the while maintaining the most tantalizing eye contact with you, both of you staring at each other with smirking smiles painted on your lips. 

“Go on, drink it,” you prompted him, unable to hide the smile from your voice. 

“What, I can’t look at you instead?” Christopher crooned back. “C’mere. Come, sit on my lap. Sitting across from me, what are you, a client?”

You shook your head, laughing at Christopher’s incessant demands to always be close to you, always be looking at you. He was always touchy-feely and lovey-dovey. His affinity for physical touch lurked not so far beyond the cold mobster exterior. You got up anyway, slinked over to him, and sat. One leg crossed over the other, the skin of one thigh sinking into the other. He wrapped his arms around you and nuzzled his chin into your shoulder, gazing up at you. 

“Your hair looks nice,” Christopher commented, gently grabbing a handful of your fresh auburn-colored braids and stroking his hand through the gaps.

“Oh, thank you,” you snaked a hand through your hair, tilting your head so you could see Christopher better. 

“You go to that salon? Put it on my card?”

“Of course, baby. Thank you,” you smiled coyly, kissing his cheek with a loud smack.

“You just tell me anytime you need to get your hair done. With you, it’s every two weeks, but I can’t complain.”

You snickered,

“Yeah, until I make you sit there and wait for me for six hours to get some braids.”

“I dunno how you do it. You’ve got patience like nobody else,” Christopher replied, pushing some of your braids to the other side.

“We have patience like no other.”

Christopher looked down at your skirt— a tight pencil skirt that matched the brown hues of your skin and hugged your curves nicely. You matched it with a blazer and a white blouse. You looked so sexy and professional, and elegant.

“And this skirt,” Christopher continued, layering on the compliments with a renewed curiosity, the kind of curiosity that wanted to know what was under the skirt. His hands, rough and large, found their way onto your lap and your thigh. His hands, marred and toughened from his profession, felt nothing like your buttery smooth skin, but still, you found yourself melting into his touch. Your wispy lashes brushed against your cheek as your eyes fluttered slightly closed. 

“Burberry. You like it?” you bit down on your lip, giving him doe eyes as you craned your neck to coo at him. 

A deep smirk set on Christopher’s lips and his thick brows rose slightly. His hands left your body for only a moment to raise up in the air as if considering the question, then they were right back where they belonged, 

“Do I like it? I wanna fuck you with it on.”

Your mouth dropped.

“Christopher!” you enunciated each syllable, glaring back at him with twinkling, faux scandalized wide eyes. 

“What? I can’t be honest anymore?” Christopher asked, his words beginning to sound muffled as he pressed his lips against your neck ever-so-gently, but enough so that you could feel it. “I’m Catholic. Lying is a sin.”

“What’re you doing, Chris?” you scoffed, rolling your eyes amusedly. You wouldn’t keep up this facade for long, but he would play along and break down your walls. 

“You smell so fucking good,” Christopher practically inhaled your scent, his big nose pressed against the nape of your neck. “You got more of this stuff?”

You frowned slightly, remembering that you were savoring the last of it,

“I’m almost out.”

“I’ll get you more,” Christopher replied immediately. “Make that your signature scent.”

You chuckled at Christopher’s insistence, his matter-of-fact way of speaking about certain things. Not controlling, but honest about what he wanted. 

“Okay, I will,” you grinned. 

Christopher pushed away your braids so that one side of your neck was completely bare for him to continue peppering kisses upon. It was clear to you that he wanted more than just this, as sweet as it was. And you wanted it too, but not without teasing him first. 

“I want you right now,” Christopher said, a certain desperation tinged in his voice that only you could provoke. He knew he’d have you, and could have you… but still, every time, he seemed to rescind into this character of the enthralled lover boy who didn’t quite have the girl. Like he was still ordering sandwiches from the other side of the counter and telling you to keep the change. 

“Christopher! You’re at work. What if someone hears?”

Christopher snorted through his nose, 

“I don’t give a fuck. ‘Sides, only thing those jerkoffs can hear is the sound of their own 

mouth-breathing.”

You giggled, but half-heartedly, trying to catch your breath. Christopher wasn’t the only one who was defenseless in this relationship. You wouldn’t be able to guess it right away, but he had you wrapped around his finger too, right along with his Cuban ring. Everything he did positively enraptured you, even if it made him dangerous. But when you were with him, everything was swathed in the softest fabrics, and the air smelled of fresh linen and fields of flowers. None of the blood and tears that his work consisted of. 

You crumpled under his touch, easily. He knew you, mind, soul, and more presently, body. The room was silent, bar for the slightest sounds of lips against your neck and fabric swishing against itself as he eased his hand further up your thigh, pushing underneath your skirt. By now his kisses against your neck had you tilting your head back in pleasure, your lips slightly parted. You could feel the outline of his cock against your ass and wanted nothing more than to get closer. Each time you saw each other it was like you hadn’t seen each other in years, would never see each other again. The passion never dissipated. 

His hand crept further and further until it reached the side of your panties, lifting the elastic band and then letting it slap against your skin. His kisses against your neck grew deeper and traveled up to your chin, his other hand wrapped around your waist tightly. You gasped slightly at Chris’ suggestive touch.

“Christopher…” you whispered, your voice reduced to a weak shiver, lids becoming heavy. 

“What?” he responded, his breath heavy. 

“Please, I need you to touch me.”

“Where?” Christopher asked, fighting the smile that was pulling at his lips. 

“Here!” you exclaimed with desperation, grabbing his hand and pressing it against the center of your panties where there was a wet mark. 

“Oh, there,” Christopher replied, fingers pressing into you over the delicate fabric. 

“Yes, please,” you whimpered, your whole body beginning to tense up as if preparing for sweet impact. 

You were relieved when you felt him push your panties to the side and you could finally feel his fingers against your flesh, prodding at your folds as if collecting your wetness along his fingertips. 

“You’re always so wet,” he shuddered, wasting no time and pushing a thick finger into your hole, making you nearly jump out of your seat on his lap. Instead, though, you simply arched your hips up against his finger, letting out a deep exhale. “And so warm.”

“Oh!” you yelped out in pleasant shock when Christopher added another finger, fully stretching you out now and sending a buzzing vibration up your spine. 

“Thought you didn’t want anybody to hear us?” Christopher taunted you, lips hot against your ear. 

“Ugh,” you moaned, rolling your eyes. “Just—please.”

“Please what?” Christopher asked, all while quickening the pace of his fingers inside you, switching from slow, scissoring motions to a fast slam that caused you to collapse against his chest, your legs pried open. Christopher moaned to himself at the feeling of your wet slick against his fingers, the way he could feel you getting wetter as he pushed his fingers in and out of your hot entrance. 

“Please fuck me,” you whined, your voice taking on an entirely new high pitch as you jolted into the pleasure and the change of pace. 

“‘M gonna fuck you, don’t you worry your pretty little head,” Christopher kept pushing his learned fingers into you, hitting your g-spot with ease. “Gonna make you take my cock.”

“M-mhm,” you gasped out. Chris wanted to see this through, but the way he was straining against his pants was killing him. It was painful not to be able to be inside of you. 

“Fuck, I’m taking this off,” he announced, and you both fumbled together to unzip your skirt and toss it onto the floor. His pants and boxers came next, along with your panties. All thrown carelessly around the room. Then he lifted you and turned you around so you were facing him, straddling him on his desk chair. You were already desperately grinding against the base of his cock, your arousal trailing up his shaft. 

“You’re such a fucking slut,” Christopher’s voice seemed to grind into a growl as he watched you roll your hips desperately against his cock. 

“Please,” you pouted, his words passing through you like a gust of wind— you hardly registered them. You were too busy grabbing at his cock and trying to 

“Why’d you really come here, huh? To get fucked?”

You hated and loved how easy it was for him to turn you into putty. 

more soon i promithhh <3 keep me on my toes yall

[verinarin]

𝙃𝙞𝙨 𝙢𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙪𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙨; 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙬

in which he lets her measure his body for a new set suit for him, riddling him with her innocent touches; his view meaning the fic is written in his point of view

fluff with a lot of tension, like drenched with it. Gallagher lowkey being obsessive and loves to tease and spoil his little lady; 2K words!!

It’s Saturday.

She said she wouldn’t be home until later tonight, so I’m alone for the rest of the day. I’ve been sharing my roof with her for around 3 months now. Funny, I seem to forget how quiet this place is without her. At this hour she would be on the couch with the television on, her favorite shows would air around this time.

Am I being a creep for knowing her daily schedule like this?

Hope not, I mean that brat has been stickin’ beside me ever since day one.

Ah shit, it’s supposed to be the other around. She’s my secretary, but here I am acting like I’m some sort of personal assistant of hers, ah that little minx had me all wrapped around her pretty little manicured fingers huh?

Can’t complain though, not when she does her job perfectly.

It’s just that I rarely wanted her to work, to begin with. Her day consists of following me around like an assistant yet she treats me like I’m her assistant instead. Ahahaha I ain’t setting up a good example as her boss, but then again no one could blame me.

I mean with those fucking doe eyes and pouty lips, she’s the type of woman people wrote on their poetry. At this point, It’s clear as day that I miss that little brat. Y’know I’ll just take a quick shower before she comes home, I don’t want her to drag me to the bathroom again like yesterday.

Stepping into the shower made me realize that every single thing here smells like her. Her vanilla-scented shampoo bottle sits next to mine, her body scrubs, her soap. Damn, I never realized how much product she used, no wonder she cooped up in her for a good hour or more, being a pretty lady like her looks like hard work, perhaps harder than my line of work.

She smells like heaven afterward though, so I won’t complain.

Never mind, I would actually complain about one thing.

The fact that her scent drives me crazy sometimes, not to mention the fact that while working she often clings to me like a second skin. The amount of questions I get asking about why my clothes smell like vanilla and roses is crazy. The other hounds, hell even Siobhan tease me for smelling like a lady.

Well, as long as I don’t reek of smoke and alcohol like I used to I guess it’s a good change. As the cold water rinses through my body, I start to worry about her. She’s an adult, she would be fine traveling around Penacony, but why am I worried about her like I’m her old man? Probably because she didn’t tell me where she was going, this girl goes on a shopping spree almost every week and the one thing she never forgets to bring is her walking ATM, which is me.

Should I go look for her?

Nah, she must’ve needed some time alone. She’s probably sick of an old geezer like me, all I could entertain her with is my crappy dad jokes and a little mixology classes here and there. She seems to like my cringe dad jokes though weirdly enough and she also learns quickly on mixing beverages.

Once I finished rinsing my worries away, I put on a pair of sweatpants. I sigh as I brush my damp hair back remembering that I forgot to bring my shirt inside, my age is starting to catch up on me. Oh well, it’s not like she’s coming home soon. I let out a small chuckle as I looped the small towel I used for my hair around my neck.

The mirror in front of me reflects my rugged face, my fingertips graze upon my stubble feeling the sharp little hairs protruding from my cheek. I’ve been thinking of shaving it clean off for a while, but I remember her weird fondness for my stubble. That girl loves rubbing the back of her hand across my face like I’m some sort of a dog, which in this case relates to my line of work funnily enough.

I figured I’d let it be for now, can’t have her whine about my appearance now like she did last month when I talked to her about cutting my hair short. Her argument was if I did cut my hair she wouldn't be able to play with it anymore, such a silly girl that one.

I should fix myself a cup of coffee before cleaning around the house, it ain’t like I have anything better to do other than waiting for her like a lost puppy. I let out a hefty yawn as I walked towards the kitchen. It's easier for me to find things these days since she arranges it in a specific way. Before her, it took me around 5 minutes to search for the coffee bean, but now I can see the labeled jar from far away.

I couldn't help but let my lips curve into a small smile as I twisted the jar open, the charming scent of the coffee beans she picked emanated through the air, that little lady has good taste I must admit. Heh, she must’ve learned it from me. She used to be a tea gal before she met me, but now it seems she quite enjoys a little more caffeine here and there.

Can’t help to let out a small smirk as I brew myself a cup of coffee. She utterly consumes me at this point, every single damn thing reminds me of her it ain’t funny. I never thought I could still feel this giddy like a teenage kid at my current age, but then again she had always said that I still have my child-like wonder.

I rest my body against the counter, the cold marble hits my bare waist making me wince at the sudden temperature difference. After this, I’ll do laundry and then afterward I should start preparing for dinner.

As I lost myself in my thoughts I could hear the sound of a key twisting inside the keyhole, ah she’s home. “I’m back. Miss me, old man?” she muses as she turns her head towards me.

“Nah, I’m starting to miss my short-lived tranquility though,” I smile, pressing the rim of my glass against my lips to hide my smirk. She on the other hand has her eyes wide open, her mouth wide agape.

She stares at me a little too long before I finally break the silence between us, “Why'd ya look at me that way kid ?” I ask as I gaze toward her small face, analyzing her expression.

“You’re practically half naked, but wait that’s good actually,” shit, I forgot about that. She starts to walk towards me with a nasty smile, oh she’s scheming something alright.

“What? why is it a good thing? you've never seen a man’s body before ?” I snicker, masking away my flustered interior.

“Oh because I could clearly measure it now,” she smiles. Now hold on, measure what ??!!! The seemingly ambiguous sentence drives my mind toward possibilities that would definitely put me behind bars.

“Measure what huh ?” I let out a small chuckle, I put my cup down and leaned towards her eye level.

“You definitely won’t fit a size XL,” she sighs. Well ouch! cut me some slack little lady. I might be slacking off on my training, but I’m still in good shape. “What a way to break this old man’s heart you little brat, fyi I’ll definitely fit a size L,”

“Said that to your shirt. The poor thing needed its button to be stitched back up yesterday,” okay maybe she’s right but it still stings, my lips curve downward as I look at her, she’s out here breaking my heart to pieces.

“I’m not saying you’re putting on weight, what I’m saying is I want to measure your measurements so that I can buy you something custom-made,” she caresses my chest as her eyes lock towards mine.

I could feel my heartbeat drumming against my eardrum as her touch burned against my skin, marking it as hers. Fuck, feels so fucking good to feel her touch. Is it greedy for me to want more of her?

Her pink ‘nd soft lips curve into this delicate smile.

Fuck, she looks so pretty like that.

“Oh, what’s the occasion for dressing up this old hound ?” I smile as I lean forward to close the gap between us, trying to take control of my not-so-innocent thoughts about her lips.

I can’t recall anything worth celebrating between us, maybe the fact that I’m cutting down on smoking, but that’ll be worth something when I fully ditch it.

She merely chuckles before lightly hitting my chest like I’m telling her a funny joke, “You are an old man after all, how can you forget that three months from now is going to be the annual family?”

Ah right….

I was never the person who enjoyed those fancy parties, but hey I have her by my side so maybe I might change my stance.

“Those types of events were never my thing,” I avert my gaze, my finger drums against my nape.

“Well those types of events are my thing, so you’ll come right?” I mean with those puppy eyes, of course I’ll come.

“Fine, I guess this year’s gala could be bearable with you by my side,” I could only sigh as I stroked her hair, truly she dictates the same way as an old friend of mine.

With a smile that rivals the sun curving on her lips, she pulls out a measuring tape from her purse. Ah, so this is the ‘measuring’ part she talked about.

“Since when you’re a tailor,” I snicker as her fingers trace the long tape to find the zero mark.

“Oww hush, you’ll be the first person I’ll measure so be kind,” she mutters as she unravels the tape, “Alright lady,”

She leans closer to me as her finger holds one side of the tape beside my bare ribcage, “Stay still,” she mumbles, easier said than done.

How can I stand still when her fingertips press against my skin? It’s my damn Achilles heel. She’s too close, way too close. I don’t know how to act nor what to think when she’s soo damn close to me, the air feels stuffy and the atmosphere feels way too intimate and somehow sexual?

Kill me now.

She almost has her small face pressing against my chest, my bare chest to be exact which made this seemingly harmless interaction so dangerous.

Her other hand still struggles to find the tape behind my back. “Your chest is too broad,” she complains, I just let out a snicker at her statement which made her lose her focus.

“M’sorry anything I could do to help ?” I couldn’t do anything though, I could only extend my arms to the side to let her in, closer to me.

“Just stay still,” she huffs. Alright then, I’m cool as a cucumber. Without any warning, her cheek presses against my chest as she hugs me.

The warmth of her skin seeps through my cold chest, now this warmth burns inside me. “Ah! This works,” well I’m happy for her but there’s practically no distance between us, not even an inch.

“Stay still ol’ hound,” I must’ve been moving too much. I look down at her, her fingers skillfully bring the other side of the tape in front of my chest.

Now her forehead rests against my chest as she struggles to read the number that transpires, “Uhhh how do I read this again ?” she huffs.

“Can’t read a simple measurement now ?” my hand finds its way back toward her head, brushing a loose strand back behind her ear.

“Don’t tease,” well of course I’m going to tease as if I’m not the one who's secretly flustered as hell.

“Alright got it, now I’m going to drag this down to your waist,” she smiles as she drags both of her hands down and tightens the tape around my waist.

I never thought of myself to be a squeamish person, but I am now. “Oh wow, your chest and waist ratio are quite something….”

“What d’ya mean by that ?” I ask as she looks up towards me, “Your waist is quite slim and also your shoulders are broad so you do have that hourglass silhouette…” she muses to herself.

Well, ain’t that interesting…..

“Oh yeah your shoulders and back !” she naps herself back from her trance, cute.

With that, she took a couple of minutes to measure my upper body to the best of her abilities. Albeit the fact that I need to crouch down a bit for her to be able to measure my shoulders and back.

She takes a couple of steps back with newfound determination exuding her. I guess it’s from the fact that she’s getting the hand of measuring me.

“Are we done now ?” I ask, rather impatiently. Her fingers still linger in any direction she wants. Mapping every single inch of me into her memory.

“Still a long way to go,” she huffs. I see that she wants me to be as still as a mannequin, the things I do for her…

She hums a familiar tune, a song I like to hum. She crouches down bringing the tape around my hips, then she circles back in front of me, “Pardon my intrusion,”

Well the sentiment is rather too late now, she had been breaching my personal space since the very beginning. She couldn’t help but rest her forehead against my lower stomach as she looked down, reading the tape.

“Take your time, s’not like I could go anywhere,” I sigh as I stroke her hair, letting her silky smooth locks stream through my fingers. “I thank you for your coordination,” she snickers as she looks up at me, pretty little thing she is.

So stinkin’ cute. I smile as I cup her cheeks, letting my thumb graze against his lower lip, “Anytime, Lady,” I reply, before casually folding my arms back against each other.

Why the fuck did I just do that?

“I’m going to go lower now, I need to get some measurements for your pants,” she continued her current action without any signs of discomfort, thank god. “Oh wow even a pair of pants, you spoil this ol’ hound too much,” I feel as though my chest cavities were filled with cotton, making my heart all warm and soft.

“We both know you spoiled me rotten, Gallagher,” she cuts me, the tape now encircling around my thighs.

“Have I now?” Honestly, she deserves more than I could afford.

“You have you silly hound. Now let me repay your kindness,” her face now rests against my thighs as the tape travels slightly lower.

“Heh is this your way into getting to my pockets again,” I snicker, knowing that it’s one of her best manipulation tactics. Acting all cute and then stealing my money.

“Hey! I’m spending my own paycheck on this mister,” she protests as she stands up. “Oh, she’s a big girl now. She doesn’t need my money anymore right ?”

“Well technically no,” she looks away to the side, biting her lips in annoyance.

“She doesn’t need my money, but I’ll give it to her anyway because she has me wrapped around her little fingers,” I cup her cheeks, guiding her face to see me. “Cuz she’s my lil lady,” I smile as I press our forehead together, I can feel a thin imaginary veil between us.

“Of course I am and you’re my old hound,” she wraps her arms around my neck as my hand rests on her waist.

The thin barrier that puts a blur in our relationship, but somehow it just feels right, whatever we are it’s perfect. I don’t need more or less, just her warmth against mine.

[spidernuggets]

this is so tropey and cliché yet I cannot help but adore it sooo a calm chill peace n love pacifist type of gal who only uses computer skills/detective skills/whatnot for the titans but never violence. that is until some asshat takes jason hostage and reader to the sheer shock of everyone goes deathstroke level violent, demolishes everything, sneaks out alone to single handedly rescue jason whilst the titans are still tryna figure out a plan, and jason wakes up back in titans tower to find out that it wasn't a team effort to get him back, that reader did it all alone and killed the people who took him, jason is maybe a lil shit and is all thanks but I had the situation under control, and then he asks why she cares so much and she's like I don't but if they killed you I would kill everyone in this room and then myself 😊 👉👈

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Note: I'M SO SORRY IT'S TAKING SO LONG TO GET THIS OUT, BABES!!! I'M IN MY FINAL YEAR OF SCHOOL, AND I HAVE EXAMS LIKE EVERY WEEK REALLY HOPE YOU LIKE THIS CRIES. ALSO, the first part of this fic is kinda based on Jason and Gar's little moment before they go down to the subways.

"What are you doing now, nerd?" Jason walks into the computer room where yoh sat in front of the downgraded version of the Bat Computer. He leans against the edge, budging your leg with his to get your attention.

"That name is hypocritical, theatre nerd," you bite back.

"Holy shit, they're thespians, not theatre nerds."

"Same difference. Anyways, if you must know, Arkham Asylum's system broke down. Dick asked me to help them fix it. It's fine now, but a bunch of crims broke out. Some are back in, but a few handfuls are still out there. No one above Riddler level. We'll be fine," you say, leaning back on the chair, hands resting behind your head.

"Need any help, babe?" He asks.

You'd be a pathological liar if you said all the nicknames he gave you didn't make your face heat up. You always liked Jason. He has the smart potential that everybody else seems to refuse to see. But you appreciate it.

You shrug. "I dunno. You can if you want, I'm just trying to find where these criminals would be next. But it just looks like they're breaking in and stealing shit from wherever. They pick one building and then move on to a whole different area," you frown, unable to find a pattern.

Jason squints at the big screen. "Hey, zoom into that street over there," he points to the corner of the city's map. You furrow your brows, but oblige. "They're not targeting random buildings, sweet thing," he mutters.

"What? What do you mean?"

"Look. See those buildings there? They already have past records of breaking and entering, and robbery. These Arkham crims are targeting untouched places." Jason says, observing the area.

You then go on your own computer, searching the history of crime through Gotham. Sure, the majority of residents were witnesses or victims to these crimes, but there's still places that have been safe for a good while.

"Hey, all these buildings. I know them." He adds. "Bruce enforced higher security. They're aiming for Wayne Enterprise sponsored buildings!"

"How did I miss that?" You whisper to yourself. "Fuck, Jason, your a bloody genius." You missed the whiplash he got, looking at you in awe for such a simple compliment. "Alright, let me just go mark these locations and I'll go and let Dick know."

"Woah, woah," Jason holds your shoulder. "He doesn't need to know. He's already so busy. I'll handle them. You said it yourself, 'we'll be fine'." He says proudly.

You sighed. "Jay, I know you'd be fine. What's not fine is knowing for a fact that you'd show no mercy and probably make all of them bite the curb." You crossed your arms, folding one leg over your other.

"Ugh, c'mon, Y/n. I promise I won't, and I promise I'll be safe. Dick and the other guys need to know that I can do shit on my own!" He starts to beg. You always knew how important Robin is to him. You were actually impressed about how passionate he was to a mask.

You sighed again, staring at the floor while thinking. "Fine. But you need to be wired. At least be in contact with me. The moment you get into trouble, you call me, I'll get the others to help."

"Why don't you just come out with me? I know you git them badass combat skills?" Then, Jason gives you those eyes for when he asks you for something, and shamefully, you always give in. Not this time.

"Jay, you know why. Even just giving someone a oetty slap just doesn't do it for me."

"Yeah, yeah I know. But if you're ready to throw a punch, make sure I'm there to see," Jason winks as he's about to leave to suit up. But you call out to him.

"Jason." He turns. "You don't need to prove yourself to anyone. Not to me at least," you gave him a sympathetic look. Jason just gives a slight nod in return before turning again and leaving to get ready.

"You sent Jason out there?!" Dick storms into your room without knocking.

You were sat on your bed, holding your hands up. "Woah, man, I could've been changing or something," you say nonchalantly. "Jason will be fine, Dick. He is capable enough of defending himself. Besides, I have him wired, so if he needs help, he can contact me." You say, eyes focused on the laptop placed on your legs.

"Okay, genius, then why did Hank inform me just now that Jason's unresponsive and that his tracker has been disconnected!" Dick yells at you. You stop typing.

"I'm sorry," you choke out a sarcastic laugh, getting off your bed, walking out of your room, Dick following suit. "What? It sounds like you're saying someone cut off all connections that Jason has to us," you said, hoping that you heard wrong or that it was some lame, insensitve prank. You walk into the debriefing room, where the other Titans were. And to prove what Dick said was true, the screens showed that there were no signs of Jason, his tracker, or his wire.

"That's exactly what I'm saying." Dick replies sternly. "Jason's gone missing, possibly kidnapped. Why didn't you tell me he was going out?! Why didn't you tell us?"

Hank chimes in. "Yeah, kid. You know how reckless Jason can be-"

You chucked your laptop to the wall, completely smashing it, the screen chipping everywhere, and the keys scattering across the floor. It instantly made the room dead silent.

You stayed silent, too. You said nothing, giving the others no explanation to your sudden, quiet outburst, and headed back to your room.

From behind you can hear Dick sigh, and preoare everyone to find Jason.

You had other plans.

You didn't know where Jason could be. But from the tracker, you can pinpoint his last known location. Not that you told Dick or even Bruce, but you managed to connect your smartwatch to Jason's tracker. No, you are not a stalker... is what you always repeated to yourself. You just wanted to be the first one to always be sure that your spontaneous friend is okay. And look at what good it's doing.

Opening your closet, deep in the back, situated your throwing knives and flame thrower.

"Come to mama," you whispered. Sure, the use of violence is more or less a disturbance to you. But these assholes have your friend hostage. And you know that if you stay with the others, they'd slow you down.

You packed a backpack with everything you think you'd need, and you climbed out your window and ran to where Jason was seen last. You didn't have a hero suit of your own, seeing as you refused to kick ass with the others. Oh, well, you thought. A face mask would do you good.

You ended up in the outskirts of the city. There was no noise, and no Jason. But there was blood. Possibly his.

Unfortunately, there were only splatters and no trails that could guide you.

"Well, aren't you a pretty little thing?" A deeo, raspy voice said behind you.

You turn around and tilted your head. "Hello. I'm lookin' for a friend. About yay high, black domino mask, Christmas coloured superhero suit with an R on the left breast of the chest plate. Goes by the name Robin. You seen him anywhere?" You politely ask.

The gruffy man hummed. "Hmm. Show me what you're made of little lady, and I might spill a secret or two," he disgustingly smirks.

You shrug. "Since you asked so nicely." Swiftly, you threw a knife at him, slicing right through his shoulder as the man howls in agony.

"YOU BITCH," he screams.

You slowly walk up to him, and right as he tries to throw a punch, you dug, slicing his leg with another one of your knives, making him tumble to the concrete.

As he lays on his back, you tower over him, your foot resting on top of the knife that was impaled through his shoulder, making him cry out in pain.

"Now you listen to me, pretty little thing," you smile, mocming him. "After this, you're going to live. Because the sight of a dead body makes me gag. But the catch is," You reach for your flamethrower from your back, pointing it to the man's crotch as he whimpers in fear. "You're gonna be walkin' around with a fried dick. So what's it gonna be? Giving me a location? Or giving yourself a grilled sausage?"

You blink twice before he yells and reveals where Jason is. "Thank you so much, sweetie," you smiled, moving the flamethrower away and your foot lifting off the knife, turning to go find your friend.

He sighs out in relief, but you then turn back around. Saying nothing else, you point the flamethrower at his face, setting it off, letting the flames char his skin.

You hide behind crates in a dimly lit, abandoned warehouse, trying to search for Jason. You then go into a different room, and upon going in, you see a figure tied up in a chair, mouth covered in a dirty rag and a blindfold over his eyes.

My poor- shit. I mean. Poor Jason. You think.

The room was empty. It's an opportunity for you to help him. You cut the ropes, take the rag, and blindfold off.

"Jay?" You whispered. "Jason, wake up, c'mon we gotta go." It was no use.

"So you're the little gal burning up faces," another rough voice says.

You stand up straight, facing the significantly larger man in front of you. "Why does everyone keep calling me that? I'm the average height," you complained, crossing your arms.

The man grunts, snapping his fingers. Then, what seemed to be a whole army of men dressed in black and white striped jumpsuits appeared from every corner, with crooked grins and nasal chuckles.

"Naw, but you'd be cut, chopped, and sliced into little pieces after we're done with you, little thing," he smiles.

"All of you against me?" You pouted. Well, that's just not fair, is it? How about a little disadvantage for you guys." You threw knives in all light sources, smashing the bulbs, now with the only source of ligbt being the moon shining out from a window or two.

You quickly whip out night vision goggles, activating them and your flamethrower ready in your hands.

You start blasting at all the men that attempt (and failed) to attack you, quickly burning their faces, hands, legs, all over their bodies.

All you could hear were the sounds of their writhing pain. You also made sure to stay close to Jason, making sure no one tried to hurt him.

Just as you were about to roast another guy, your flamethrower suddenly ran out of fuel.

"Well, shit," you muttered to yourself. "Old fashioned, it is."

You used the flamethrower itself as a combat weapon, hurling it through their guts and crotches, any of their most vulnerable areas.

The last guy to go down was the supposed leader. You smash the flamethrower into his head, probably leaving a dent, and he falls to the ground. You then take out any knives that remain, stabbing them through bith his shoulders and shins.

You took out your remaining anger and adrenaline out on him by using the flamethrower, striking it against his abdomen.

"Asshole! Perveted! Kidnapping! Ugly! Son! Of! A! Bitch!" You exclaim with every blow.

You pants, looking around the room full of unconscious men. Even the one in the cape.

You lift him up, throwing his arm over your shoulder, beginning to haul him out of the warehouse.

By the time Jason woke uo, his head was spinning, his throat was dry, and his vision was blurry. He sits uo, trying to stay still to focus his vision. He then notices that his shirt is off and his torso is bandaged. There were also many patches all over his face.

He slowly gets uo from bed, wincing at the pain. On his nightstand, he sees a glass of water, pills and a sticky note.

"Take the pill and drink all the water, theatre nerd

- Other Nerd."

Jason couldn't help but smile at the little message and consideration. He did as was told, swallowing the pill and gulping down the water.

Wanting to get into bed, he heard voices coming out of his room. He leans against his dokr, trying to listen.

"Half of those guys are in death threatening condition! The other half have permanently damaged bones! You killed a guy, Y/n! When the fuck do you even kill!" It was Dick. Who seemed pissed. Wait.

Did he just put your name and the word kill in the same sentence?

"What was I meant to do, Dick? Lock them up and wait for them to escape again? You and I both know the justice system is bullshit!" You spit back.

"That doesn't make you the judge of death, Y/n!"

"What-Fucking-Ever! Here's an idea! Maybe if you had just a little faith in Jason, he wouldn't feel the need to go out there! He was just trying to help! You're his older brother. Act like it!" You bite, not wanting to hear another word coming out of Dick's mouth, and stormed into Jason's room.

Too bad you didn't know he was leaning on the other side of the door.

He grunts heavily, and you shove the door against him.

"Shit! Jay, what the hell are you doing out of bed!" You scold him, taking him by the arm and leading him back to bed.

"Hello to you too, nerd," he mumbles, lying back down.

"You just wake up? How you feelin'?" Your hand rests against his face.

"I'm fine. What happened?" He replies groggily.

You sighed, sitting on the floor, resting your chin on the edge of the bed. "You got kidnapped. Your tracker and wire went offline."

"So what were you and Dick arguing about?" His brows knit together.

Your head tilted so that you were leaning on your cheek.

"Just tell me, nerd," he scoffed.

"Went to save you on my own. Killed a guy," you shamefully admitted.

He smiled in disbelief. "I thought I was fuckin' hallucinating. Fuck, wished I was conscious to see you in action. You didn't even need to get me, nerd. I had everything under control." He scoffs at the end.

"Mm.. Okay, Mr. black eye and stabbed stomach," you reply tiredly, while poking his nose.

Jason sighs and stares at the ceiling. "Thanks." He mutters.You smile.

"Hm? What was that?" You tease.

"I'm not saying it again. You know what I said."

"Yeah, yeah. I know." You admire the side of his face.

"Why? Why go through all that, Y/n? You haven't even punched a person in who knows how long. And suddenly you put people in the hospital and kill someone? I don't understand," Jason suddenly says, turning to face you.

You look back at him. "They took you."

He shook his head, unsatisfied. "No. That's bullshit. Gar and Conner got kidnapped once. You didn't kill people then."

You looked away. "They aren't you." You mumble.

"So what? What the hell's so special about me, Y/n? Why do you care so much?" Jason was confused. He wanted answers as to why someone could care so much for him. He wanted to know why someone who doesn't believe in violence would kill for him when even his own family couldn't.

"I don't," you tried to excuse yourself. "But if they killed you, I would've killed everyone, and the Titans, and then myself," you casually say, still avoiding his gaze.

Jason couldn't help but snicker. "Sounds very caring to me, nerd," he lowly says.

You hum. "Mm, whatever."

He then dramatically sighs. "You know what, sweetheart. It's pretty cold up here. And I assume the floor isn't as comfortable as the bed," there's a look of both want and need in his eyes.

You smile. "What? Wamt a blankie?" You teased.

"Fuck, just come up here," he scoffed, rolling his eyes.

You said nothing else. Just quickly obliged, going around to the other side of the bed, lying beside him.

"You're too far," he complains.

"I'm gonna mess up your bandages," you pout.

"You're so stubborn," Jason says, using his gokd arm to pull you closer, making your head lay on his chest.

"You're one to talk," you snap, though nestling your head into his warmth.

He just hums in response, letting his lips linger on the crown of your head.

I'M SORRY AGAIN, ANON. this is probably lame... and I didn't know how to end it

cries 🥲

[puck-luck]

There’s not enough Dawson fics on here and I feel like you’re my dealer lol 😂 can I request a Dawson fic where he’s all riled up after that last game with the rangers (ya know where he was in the fight but not the line brawl?) and as soon as he sees his girl he lets out all that energy? Like maybe they don’t even get to the apartment and they get that car rockin 👀

(His fight in that game just isn’t talked about enough)

warnings: semi-public sex (locker room), oral (m!receiving) pairing: dawson mercer x fem!reader summary: (see above) wc: 1174

You know that the locker room is a sacred space for the players. You’ve seen other WAGs enter, but you’d never dared to enter the room until now. You had never really wanted to go in the locker room anyway, since it’s smelly and an entirely-too-masculine type of messy. 

However– Dawson was ejected for the rest of the first period for fighting Will Cuylle. Your boyfriend, who is usually the kind to trade legal hits with players, was ejected for fighting. It’s abnormal behavior for him and you need to know what’s going on– what’s wrong.

“Dawsy, baby, what happened out there?” You ask, knocking softly on the doorframe of the locker room. You peek around into the dressing area, seeing your boyfriend sitting half-dressed in front of his locker. His head is in his hands and he only looks up once you speak.

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head because he knows his response isn’t good enough. “Just got frustrated,” he grumbles. “First Ruff is fired, which is hard because it was the middle of the fucking season. We can barely fucking function with a head coach, but we’re a wreck without a proper coaching staff. We’ve got too many fucking injuries on the team right now, too, and then we have to play the Rangers? We fucking hate those guys and they hate us. This game is shit.”

“Babe,” you say, frowning. “You can’t think like that. You won’t win like that.”

Dawson sounds a little hysterical with anger when he replies to you. “I don’t really give a shit about winning right now.”

His tone strikes you at first, sparking frustration of your own, but you’ve always been a more level-headed person. You tilt your head to the side and look at Dawson, saying nothing. 

He turns his palms up and gestures helplessly at you. “I’m just–”

“I know, honey,” you murmur. You sink down to sit next to him, touching his jawline gently. “You’re having a hard game.”

Dawson melts into your touch, groaning lowly. You can feel that he’s disappointed with himself, but also with the game in general.

“Where are the other ejectees?” You ask, making light of the moment.

“Up in the box, watching in their suits with plenty of food and drink,” Dawson tells you, pouting slightly. “I want to go back on the ice, but I wouldn’t complain if I got to go upstairs and hang out for the rest of the night.”

“Well, baby, you know they’ll be doing sprints tomorrow to make up for the shifts they missed,” you say. “Be glad you don’t have to do that.”

“Mhm,” Dawson hums. He takes your hand and squeezes it.

After a beat of silence, you bite your lip. “So, we’re alone in the locker room.”

“Mhm,” Dawson hums again.

A smile creeps across your face. “Take your pants off.”

Dawson perks up, looking at you with a surprised blink. 

You continue. “Dawsy, chop-chop. You know how we handle your frustration at home. We’re all alone in the locker room. Take your pants off.”

“Can’t believe you’re going to make me dress for the game all over again,” Dawson teases, but he’s already unlacing the padded shorts and shifting them down. 

He gives you just enough room to work with. You’re able to pull him out of his underwear, albeit hindered a little bit by his cup. He’s sweaty from the game so far. You can smell it on him, which sucks because he stinks but is wonderful because he feels just that much more turned on by this. 

The head of his cock is salty in your mouth. It takes one purse of your lips around his cock for Dawson’s hand to find the hair on the back of your head. He gathers it into a bundle for him to hold onto, then starts to guide your movements.

You relax, widening your jaw as much as you can so that Dawson can fill your mouth the way he wants to. 

That’s the key part of this– he was frustrated, so he has to solve his problem. You’re just the conduit.

“Fuck, baby, so nice,” Dawson drawls. He pushes your head down, gagging you slightly before he lifts you up. “Love it when you take what I give you.”

You hum around his cock, gargling a little on your response. “Then give it to me.”

He definitely doesn’t understand what you said, but Dawson starts to drag you up and down his cock at a faster pace. You love how his thick fingers tug at the roots of your hair. His grip is tight and mind-numbing. The blurt of his precum over your tongue is like the first sip of a drink you’ve craved for hours. 

His cockhead nudges the back of your throat, triggering another constriction. He pulls back, then forces forward again. 

You look up at him, your eyelashes fluttering with each gag. Tears prickle at the corner of your eyes and you struggle to breathe through your nose, but you’re as perfect as a picture to Dawson. He’d do a lot of things, including getting ejected from the rest of the game, to keep you like this forever.

His pace increases over the next few minutes. You alternate from looking at the hair on his thighs to the sweat that beads along his hairline as he continues to fuck his cock into your mouth. His lips are parted slightly and his breath grows ragged, the telltale sign that he’s close.

With one look at the clock above the door, Dawson knows he needs to finish soon. With your perfect lips around his cock, that isn’t hard to do. 

You simply lather your tongue on the underside of Dawson’s length, tracing the veins there in a ticklish way. It has Dawson’s hips jumping into your heat. The tip of his cock hits the back of your throat with every thrust and he holds you close. Even though it’s impacting your breath and making you lightheaded, you stay. The proximity is making you a little wet, too.

Dawson comes down your throat with only a few minutes to spare before the period ends. It gives him enough time to pull his gear back on and cover himself, to smooth your hair out of your face and run his fingers through it like that’s as good as a comb, and to plant one brief kiss on your lips before you have to sneak out of the room. The rest of the boys will be returning any minute. You’d hate to be caught in their sacred space.

You don’t have to ask Dawson if he’s feeling better– you can see the way his game improves once you’ve helped him release his frustration. The only proof of his frustration, other than the footage that was televised across the nation, lies in your stomach– swallowed down in a way Dawson aches to repeat after Chris Kreider scores in the last five minutes to defeat the Devils.

notes: the idea of being someone's fic dealer is so funny to me and i love it. i'll be y'all's dealer any day!

[gomzwrites]

Its too early for smut but I aM A WHOR- anyways smut drabble idea that has been sitting in my docs and head for weeks, I know I said one fic per day for 100 followers special but I caved, though this won’t be included into the fic marathon.

Minors dni I will block ageless and untitled accounts.

This is not proofread, literally typing this as Im taking the train wheeze so I apologize for the mess and fucked up grammar-

Mentioned of female anatomy

Them finding out you were fucking yourself with a dildo that’s near replica of their dick, your sweet lil moans and the way you called their name desperately slipped through your bedroom door and reached their ears when they just came home, fresh after a mission all musky and hungry

John Price

- Definitely watch you first

- Seeing you with your eyes close, fisting the sheets as you lazily thrust yourself with the dildo, watching you frown when you can barely hit that one spot that sends you seeing stars

- “Look at what a slut you are”

- immediately push the toy deeper into you when you least expected, watching you gasp and process what the hell just happened, chuckling and pushing your head back into the bed as he degrades you more

- “couldn’t wait for daddy to come home huh? Such a needy little whore, think this toy can fuck you better than me, love?”

- you hear him opening his zipper as he takes his cock out and brush it against your ass, feeling it twitching as he slowly lube your hole

- “gonna fill you up real nice and good, in every sexy hole of yours love”

Simon Ghost Riley

- starts approaching you slowly, silently taking a seat next to bed as he watch you grind and ride that thick dildo, eyes closed with your lips biting as you moan out his name

- S-si….ah! Fuck Si….

- his cock straining and twitching in his pants, shit he still have all his gears on as he watch you, admiring and drinking in all your lil gasps, amused that this is how you pleasure yourself

- eventually when you realize his there, he’ll give you a smirk(from the way his mask shifts) as he tilt his head to one side, cock already out from his pants as one of his hand grabs onto it, lazily pumping it as his other resting on the arm rest

- Hey baby….enjoying yourself hm?

- he’ll beckon you to come to him, straddle his hips while he takes the dildo, watching it glister as he hold your chin and make you watch him lick it clean

- he’ll grind and buckle his hips up to meet yours, yet refusing to put it in your already seeping wet cunt, watching you whine and pout as he laughs

- mm so desperate and needy for me are you sweet girl?

- he’ll slowly take the lube out from the drawer as he trace circles around your rim, watching your eyes widen as he hush you and kiss your neck

- after prepping you he’ll start pushing in that dildo and his thick, aching cock into both your holes as you writhe and whimper under him

- shhh….be a good girl and take it, you can do it, can you?

- oh he’s so sweet about it too, making sure he go slow, so so slow, too slow in fact, that you start thrusting yourself on him with your own pace until his hand grips onto your thigh, fingers digging them into your meat as he bites your ears

- now now….patience….you move again I’ll fuck you until you can’t walk for days, or is that what you want huh?

John Soap MacTavish

- man’s going absolutely feral at this sight

- he’s also intrigued as to when and how you got that kind of dildo in the first place but never mine that as be takes off his shirt and crawl into bed with you

- hey bonnie, no no don’t stop, come on lemme see you fuck yourself yeah?

- he’d flip you and let you lay on his chest, opening your thighs up as he watch you push in the toy in and out of your pussy, hearing those sinful squelch and juices leaking out from you as you moan and pant helplessly

- steamin’ jesus, like a bitch in heat aren’t you huh? How long have you been fucking yourself like this hm?

- you’d beg him to fuck you but he’ll only shake his head as he pinch your nipple and kiss you deep, and passionately as he whisper dirty things to you

- mmm fuck, I wanna see you come….show me please

- he’ll watch you go faster, eyes never leaving you as you try to reach that high, but it’s just not enough

- he’ll smirk and gently lick your neck, before biting it down harshly as he growls, knowing that what you needed is a push

- such a good girl yeah? Feeling good hm? Imagine that that’s my cock pounding you huh? You like it when I fuck you like you’re the only thing in my head don’t you?

- he starts whispering and murmuring these filthy praises until he reach up your ears as he huskily whisper into it

- come for me, then I’ll give you a reward…

Kyle Gaz Garrick -idk why I dont see yellow text options in mobile so pink this time for bb Gaz

- he’ll probably drop all his stuff on the floor in awe, but quickly regain his composure as he slips through the door and start watching you

- firm believer he likes to watch so when you eyes met him in the middle of your haze you’ll smile back at him, adjusting yourself so that you’ll face him completely, opening your legs so that he gets to see the full view

- that earns a growl from he as he curse under his breath, pumping his own cock to meet your pace as he slowly inch closer

- Fucking hell darling, look at you…

- need you, need you so badly please….

- he’ll stare at you first as he watch you plea and beg for him, then slowly he’ll sink down to his knees as he kiss your thighs, slowly tracing those small kisses until your inner legs, watching you press your thighs together and pushing his head closer to your soaked and drenched pussy that you’re still fucking yourself with your dildo, he watches in silent and being beyond turned on as he enjoys this sinful view

- tell me what you want…

- p-phlease! Please need your tongue!!…mmmhnm Kyle plea-

- you haven’t even finish speaking and he already latch onto your clit, as your head falls back and your hand turns weak with a long trailed out moan he takes that dildo instead, and thrust it slowly as he continue lapping against your pussy

- taste so good…mmmfuck miss you, miss this cunt so goddamn much ahh…

- pussy drunk as he run his tongue expectedly across your clit, drawing letters on it as he gives it a suck sometimes, watching you arch your back as the heel of your feet push him impossibly closer to you

- he’ll keep lapping up all those juices as he fucks you with the dildo even faster, watching you clench around the toy as he gives a chuckle

- yeah come for me hm? Come for me please I want it….want you to come all over my face please please please-

- with that he’ll start flicking and sucking your clit faster and harder as you let out a strain of voice and hit your orgasm, you pant hard as you look down on him, who’s still drinking and licking up those sweet juices as he glance back at you with a wink

- he toss the dildo aside as he crawls up to you and kiss you, making you taste yourself on his as he smirk

- oh we’re not done yet Princess….

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= a/n: okay gotto walk bye yall WHEEZE

[alittlebitofloveliness]

Outsiders Prompt fic 1- Aren't you tired of this?

This for @battleslippers who requested prompt #6 and Tim Shepard

******************

“Heyyy Tim,” Curly was sprawled out on the sofa for the third time this week, glassy eyed and sloppy. Ma was beside him, eyes the sort of bright Tim knew could go from nice to nasty in an instant and for a second he thought he might cry.

He didn’t- of course he didn’t- but he could’ve. Shit, Curly was takin’ this whole situation real hard. He’d always liked his booze a bit too much but Tim figured that was just part of their DNA. This was something else though. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen his kid brother truly sober.

“Timmy,” Ma smiled and Tim felt his shoulders tense. There was no good ending to his mother’s brief moments of excitement. He’d survived enough of her tantrums and rages to know it, “come sit with us! Have a drink.”

She’d always liked him the best.

“No,” he tugged the bottle of tequila out of Curly’s hand, “I think you’ve both had enough.”

Ma’s face darkened, “I am your mother. Don’t think you can tell me when I have and haven’t had enough.”

His mother. Right. Maria Shepard wasn’t his mother. She was a child without a childhood. A baby who’d had babies. A monster of her own making.

“Fine,” he knew better than to argue. They wouldn’t make it through the afternoon without her screaming, but if he played his cards right they might get a few more hours of peace, “but Curly’s done.”

She didn’t fight him. She never did when it came to the twins, never had, never once even wanted to. 

“Aw that ain’t fair,” Curly protested, but his voice was slurred and he was too drunk to stand on his own let alone fight him on it. Tim passed the liquor over to Ma, who immediately took a swig. “I wasn’t- wasn’t finished.”

“Oh you’re finished all right,” moving to the side of the couch, he wrapped one arm around Curly's thin shoulders- christ the kid needed to eat more- and hauled him to his feet, half carrying, half dragging him down the hall to his room. 

He dumped him onto the mattress on his side of the room. Angela had propped hers up on milk crates years ago but Curly had always left his on the ground, always slept curled up in the far corner, even when he was a baby, like if only when was small enough and far enough beneath notice he could ever have a chance at resting.

“Aren’t you tired of this?” Tim asked, “The boozin’ and the drugs- don’t say you ain’t tried anything, why else would you be a mama’s boy all of a sudden? Seriously kid, you’re killin’ me here.”

“Nah,” cloudy blue eyes blinked at him, “I’m killin’ myself.”

A shock of panic shot through him like lightning.

“Shut up!” He shook his kid brother’s shoulders half desperately, “You ain’t! Shut up!”

The faintest hint of that troublemaker grin showed on his face, “you can’t stop me.”

“Watch me.”

Curly’s eyes filled with tears. Tim couldn’t say he didn’t expect it. Drunk folk were awful predictable, even though Curly was- per usual- trying to give him a heart attack.

“He’s gone, Tim,” Curly’s voice broke, the drunken grin and sardonic comments replaced with such genuine misery Tim can feel it stinging even him, “they- the socs- the socs killed him. Drowned him in a fountain like-like he wasn’t nice and smart and good-”

“-I know,” Tim doesn’t really do affection and Curly doesn’t usually like it but shit the kid needs something, and per usual Tim is all he’s got, so he pulls him into a hug tight enough to bruise even though its clunky and awkward not a Shepard type thing to do. Those damn socs had already taken one east side kid this month. He’d be damned if he let them take another- even indirectly. He’d be damned if they took Curly. “Shit kid, I know.”

“He was my friend.” Tim knew that wasn’t strictly true. Ponyboy Curtis had always meant more to Curly than a simple friend.

“I know.”

 Curly swallowed convulsively before starting to sob in earnest, tears soaking into Tim’s sweatshirt. 

“It’s ok,” Tim said, knowing it wasn't any sort of ok, “it’ll be alright.”

They stayed like that until Curly finally fell asleep.

[gunnrblze]

Mischaracterizations are prevalent in fandoms. I'm curious, which ones of the CoD:Ghosts franchise bug you the most, and make you want to pull out your hair once you see them in fics/other materials?

This question created several additional thoughts, so I’m putting all my yapping below the cut lmfao.

Tbh it doesn’t bother me a whole lot except when it’s a large part of said character, or one of their only canon descriptions/facts/etc. I think it’s great for ppl to create what they want, esp when a lot of the ghosts have little/no info so we quite literally have to make shit up and fill in the likely blanks, but if you’re straying so far from who a character is…😟

Like, Keegan is described and shown throughout the game as being a very quiet man…so it does make me side eye when people portray him as this talkative guy, or someone with a really big personality lol cause that’s just not the vibe. That’s why I rb’d that thing, because I was thinking about how he’s the most popular ghost by far, and I think a lot of those fans aren’t necessarily into the rest of the ghosts game (and they don’t have to be, just an observation). I think that’s why so much of the content made about him outside of the actual ghosts fandom seems out of left field, bc people just kinda take a hot character and do whatever with him (which again, is fine, free will in fandom is good and necessary). I also think that’s why so many people get him confused as being part of other CoD games, because they aren’t aware of where his character even comes from in the first place.

Now this may be a bit of an unpopular opinion bc I know a lot of ppl hate some of the smut aspect that’s written about these characters, because they include themes that are/seem ooc, but I’m gonna be honest…that part doesn’t bother me so much because at the end of the day, people just want to put their fantasies and ideas onto hot masked man…and I get it lmao. Not to say im necessarily gonna read it, esp stuff with hard kink type shit, but it’s more so bothersome when people mischaracterize them because they don’t pay attention to the actual canon character in other fics/materials.

That’s why I kinda separate smut fic from everything else a bit, because a lot of smut I’ve noticed, especially with Keegan specifically, is written ooc, because making it canon/character correct isn’t the point, the sexy time shit is. Now I still prefer reading smut that seems largely in character lol, but I do have to defend the larger idea here that it’s not a crime to write an ooc smut fic because half the time…the smut is the main focus, not the canon/implied personality of the character.

I completely understand the shock of seeing certain smut in the first place (talking about the more fucked up shit here…), especially when it’s then placed on a character you know and love, but it honestly doesn’t bother me that much-and maybe it’s because I’ve been on the internet for too long💀- but that’s kinda the point of fandom I think…doing whatever pleases you, having an outlet. That’s the type of smut I think is very obviously written with the idea in mind, and not necessarily ‘would the character do/behave like this?’. Because yea, these ghost boys would most likely not do all these fucked up things, but I think people still deserve the freedom to write it, and they’re going to anyways lmfao (IF you’re tagging disturbing content correctly, you owe people that much!)

I’ve been having those thoughts for a while now so I had to yap them out of my head lol, but to answer the actual question, aside from Keegan, I hateeee seeing the Walker fam mischaracterized. I think because (it seems) they have more info available on them compared to the other ghosts, so when I see people just giving their personalities a 180 I’m like…Hesh would NOT act like that😩. Especially with Elias because he’s my husband obviously…so people missing larger parts of his character or stuff that’s implied about him makes my eye twitch a little lol.

Also, I don’t typically see a whole lot of ooc stuff for the ghosts in the first place tbh (minus Keegan, bc he has reached the CoD masses of course). Because we’re a smaller fandom, and I think people tend to stay in character more in smaller fandoms (at least from what I’ve seen) because there’s so little content available on characters, and it’s like we’re all clinging to what we DO know about them lmfao.

Thanks for attending my ted talk 💋

[viisforvalentine]

i know almost all of you follow me for Weddie stuff but ermmmmmm Muirinnes time!!!!!!!!!!! Anyways here are some headcanons of them because i wanna flesh them out a bit for a fanfic im writing :] ( spoilers for the fic: lots of soft fluffy m0nsterfvcking)

Some of these are probably hella ooc but idc, im cringe and free and i wanna see those two old men BOINK !!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Innes

- Something tells me he's a good friend of Roys, probably not as close as Caz is obviously, but still I can see them throwing playful jabs at eachother

- Dimples. The man has dimples. You cant change my mind.

- Extremely patient and level headed, i mean, we saw how he was when his literal best friend turned into a sludge meatball, shock or not he was clear headed enough to tell Caz to get his shit together so they could (try to) help eachother out.

- I feel like he has a really good relationship with his parents. Type to have sunday dinners with the family before his job on the rig, clean the dishes afterwards and everything.

- Someone said this already (cant exactly remember who) but he definitely seems like the type to destress by just sitting with one of his favorite tv shows in his underwear, smoking a cig and sipping a beer. Though, occasionally he destresses by hanging out with the rest of the crew.

- During competitive games i feel like hes the type to try an trick the other out of winning, making a quick loud noise, getting in their head, stuff like that lol (Muir backs him up every time)

- Always up to some weird shit like feeding seagulls bits of his lunch or helping Roy cook even though he has 0 culinary skills

Muir

- Papas boy. 100%. Has a few pictures in a picture book of him and his dad working on cars together

- The type to work so fast he forgets safety, gets injuried (not huge injuries, things like smashed fingers, split nails, etc) on the job all the time

- Dares/bets some of the crew members to do stupid shit whenever work feels too slow to him, Finlay and Caz are the only ones who still take him up on the dares

- Actually really smart though when he wants to be, to the point that it suprises some people

- I also feel like hes suprisingly good at drawing. No professional by any means, but the type to make nice scribbly doodles when bored or taking calls (Mostly of cars or the crew, sometimes the stray seagull too)

- Always. Gets. Sick. During the colder seasons. Im talking sickly victorian ill but still wanting to work, Innes has to practically force him to stay in his cabin.

- His love language is calling people names and having playful verbal fights. Sometimes roughhousing too but after Finlay threw him into a door and broke it, Rennick put a stop to that real fucking quick