#what're y'all even doin'????

[ravenmoodle]

Amazed that Tumblr Staff changed snoozing live to last for 30 days, then made it also not actually get rid of the 'live' tab

[ladyimaginarium]

man... not 2 be annoyed on main but just. the way some of yall treat multigenic systems especially for those who're y'know. professionally dxed w/ a cdd like did is. yall need therapy.

[nastybuckybarnes]

Stowaway

Pairing: Ghost X Reader

Summary: You find something fun and want to share it with the skull-face man.

Warnings: Language, allusions to violence, fluff, slow burn

Word Count: 2.4K

A/n: another part of my ghost x mouse thing. if any of you have seen Freeform's Siren, i imagine reader to sound a bit like Ryn when she speaks. if y'all have no idea what im talking about, thats okay too, i still love ya!

~*~

You watch the black vehicle as it rolls to a stop, all but the driver emerging.

This is it. This is your one chance and you cannot fuck it up.

Taking a few deep breaths to steady yourself, you slowly keep forward, keeping your back to the wall and successfully keeping yourself hidden in the shadows.

The men outside the armoured vehicle move away, toward whatever their target of the day is, and you use that to your advantage.

You crouch down, the darkness of the night your best friend as you slink closer and closer to the vehicle, glass bottle held tightly in your grasp.

Finally, with your back to the bed of the vehicle, you throw the bottle as far as you can, wincing at the sharp shatter.

Instead of dwelling on making a sound, something that you’ve been carefully trained never to do, you climb into the back of the vehicle and quietly bury yourself under duffle bags of supplies as the driver emerges.

You hear the driver get out, listen as his heavy boots lead over to where the bottle broke, and you let out a soft breath.

Safe for now.

You snuggle up beneath the bags, steeling yourself for a long night.

Somehow, even with the velcro, clips, and pins digging into your flesh, you manage to doze off, waking up only when you feel the vehicle jerk to a halt, the brakes squeaking lightly.

“Good work, boys! First round’s on me tonight,” a muffled voice says.

You tense up as the tailgate gets dropped, bags being lifted from you one by one.

Finally, there’s a pause.

“Uh, Captain?”

You’ve been spotted, you know that, and you knew it would happen. It doesn’t make it any less terrifying.

You’ve seen firsthand what these men can do. You only hope the one you’re familiar with will be around.

“What’s going on, MacTavish?”

Another duffle gets lifted from you and you squint against the harsh light, blinking furiously but making no other move to get up lest you startle one of them.

“What’s this?” The older man asks, his face slowly coming into view.

“Looks like we’ve got a stowaway,” the Scottish one says.

You still make no movements, staying perfectly still as they toss the other bags off of you.

One of them then grabs you by the arm and hauls you to your feet, making you stumble the slightest bit.

“Gimme your hands.”

You don’t fight them as they snap cool metal cuffs around your wrists. Nor do you fight them when they force you to your knees on the hard concrete floor.

Two of them stand farther back with their hands on their guns, the driver and the Scot, and the older man, the Captain, stands tall in front of you.

"Now, why were you hidin' out in the back of our truck, hmm? What're you doin' here? What are you hoping to find?"

You look at each man carefully, frowning when none of their eyes match the ones in your memory.

"Ghost," you finally say.

Soap and Price exchange glances before the older man leans forward, crouching down to be at eye level with you.

"Come again?"

You huff out a frustrated breath then point toward his breast pocket where a pen and a pad of paper lie.

He glances down at it and then, after a moment of careful consideration, slides the items across the floor to you.

You’re quick to scribble something down as neatly as you can with your hands bound, sliding the objects back over to him once you've finished.

There, on the paper, lies the exact same skull that has been strewn on walls and windows, leading them to hostages and intel.

"Ghost. Or no talk."

The men get tense, the two in the back looking at their Captain, waiting for his next move.

Price cocks his head to the side and gives it a shake.

“Listen, sweetheart. You seem nice enough, yeah? Let me tell you somethin’,” he leans closer, dropping his voice to a whisper.

“You’re on my base. You don’t get to call the shots around here. If you wanna sweat it out, fine. I’ll go grab a drink and a nice hot shower, and then when I get back we’ll see if you feel like talking. And don’t worry about being alone - Gaz over there will be keepin’ a close eye on you. Got it?”

His threat hangs in the air for a long while, but all you do is press your lips together and shift back off your knees to sit cross-legged on the floor.

Swallowing his irritation, Price straightens up and leaves the room, Soap hot on his heels.

“Where’re you goin’?” Soap asks when they’re out of the parkade.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere. You’re gonna go get the Lieutenant.”

With a nod of his head, Soap is jogging toward Ghost’s quarters.

It takes him no more than five minutes to return, and with him is the big burly man you asked for.

“Better have a damn good reason for gettin’ me up at this hour,” he grumbles, black balaclava covering his face.

He’s dressed in his tac pants and a black t-shirt, thick arms on full display.

Price only nods toward the window he’s staring through, watching you as you look around the garage.

“What’s she doin’ here?” Ghost asks, brows drawing together.

Price chuckles dryly, “was hoping you could tell me. She snuck into the back of the truck unnoticed and stowed away all the way back to base. She’s been… agreeable for the most part. But she won’t talk.”

He’s hardly surprised.

“Drew this and said ‘Ghost or no talk’. Accent’s not from here.” Price turns and looks up at the lieutenant, handing him the picture you drew. “Where’d you find this one?”

Giving his head a shake, Ghost huffs a sigh and pushes into the garage, feet silent as he makes his way over to you.

“Whatt’re you doing here, mouse?” He asks, his voice echoing through the space.

You snap your gaze to his, eyes lighting up the tiniest bit.

Soap walks in after him, hand on his gun.

You shift onto your hip when he’s in front of you, reaching to grab something from your pants but freezing when the other men in the room act.

Gaz and Soap each draw their guns, aiming them at your chest.

"Hands where we can see 'em," Soap warns harshly.

"Easy boys. She's not stupid," Ghost says with a chuckle.

He gives you a nod of encouragement, watching as you move purposefully slowly.

You grab a few items from the waistband of your jeans, sliding the first across the floor to Ghost.

He picks up the small folder, brows drawing together as he briefly wonders how you fit it in there, but those thoughts vanish when he flips it open.

It's full of highly classified documents. Documents that they've been trying to get their hands on for months.

"Where did you get this?" He asks quietly.

You glance at the other two men in the room then back over to him, pressing your lips together once more.

He sighs and glances over his shoulder, holding the folder out to the two men.

"Take this and go get us a tea, yeah?"

They obey without another word, taking the folder and exiting the parkade.

"Where'd you get that folder?" He asks again, crouching down to be at your level and uncuffing your wrists carefully.

"City centre... big..." You frown, searching for the right word, but Ghost knows exactly what you're talking about.

"Warehouse?" He asks.

You nod while rubbing your wrists, happy that he understands.

"If I bring you to a map, can you show me where you were?"

You nod again, pushing onto your knees as he rises to his feet. He helps you up then leads you to the door.

Price, Gaz, and Soap are right outside the door, scanning over the documents within the folder.

"Where are you bringing her?" Price asks, even more intrigued than he was before.

"A map," is all Ghost says.

The three other men fall into a step behind you two, and you try to stay as close to Ghost as you possibly can.

He makes it hard, with his large strides, but you stay all but glued to his side.

He stops suddenly, and you nearly crash into his back, being careful to keep your balance as he turns to a door.

You try to look around him as he unlocks it, but his frame is too broad.

The lock beeps twice then clicks, and then he’s holding the door open for you and motioning for you to head inside.

You do so carefully, eyeing the dark room and shuddering as memories creep into your mind. Memories of a dark cold room with nothing but a leaky pipe.

This isn’t that room. And you’re not alone.

The men enter behind you and then a dim light is flicked on, illuminating what looks to be a board room.

“Here, show me exactly where you found this,” Ghost says, walking over to a map on the wall.

You follow him and inspect it carefully, tracing your finger over a few familiar streets before stopping near the heart of the city.

You tap the spot twice for good measure and look up at him, waiting for his response.

He says nothing, but his eyes are filled with questions.

“How’s a little thing like you get in without setting off alarms?” Soap asks curiously.

You don’t respond, instead you dig in your pants pocket until you find the other souvenir you took.

“For Ghost,” you whisper, holding the USB stick out to him.

He takes it carefully, then tosses it over to Soap.

“Check this. On a secure laptop this time. Don’t need a repeat of-“

“Secure laptop, got it Lt,” the Scot interrupts, turning on his heel and leaving the room.

“Do you know who you stole from?” Ghost asks, capturing your attention once more.

You frown at his word choice.

“I don’t steal. They leave it. It’s mine.”

Price chuckles, “street rats and their squatters rights, hmm?”

You glare at the man with the moustache.

“Not rat,” you murmur, crossing your arms over your chest.

Ghost chuckles and gives you a gentle pat on the head.

“No, rats are vermin. Pests. You’re a harmless little mouse, arentcha?”

You cock your head to the side, looking between him and the other man carefully, trying to understand what he’s saying.

“Once Johnny’s done with that stick we’ll reconvene. In the meantime, bring this one back to her den. Can’t have her roaming around,” Price says, rubbing his forehead.

Ghost gives him a sharp nod.

“Say bye, mouse. Time to go home.” He steps toward the door, holding it open for you.

You follow him, pausing in the doorway and turning to Price and Gaz.

“Bye-bye.” You wave your farewell and the two men exchange glances before each giving you a wave of their own.

Ghost leads you silently through the halls and out of the base, opting to walk rather than drive. S’not far anyway. And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to spend as much time with you as possible.

Even though you walk in silence, it feels good to be in his presence. You feel safe.

Finally, as you approach the city, he speaks.

“So you do speak English, cheeky fuck.”

You glance up at him and give your head a small shake.

“Not… not good… not lots.”

He hums, eyes darting around checking for threats.

“S’good.”

You say nothing, only continue walking silently by his side.

He breaks the silence once again, surprising the both of you.

“Why do you help us? Why put yourself at risk for us and our cause?”

You furrow your brows, not understanding the question.

“What does this mean?” You ask.

He chuckles and glances over at you.

“Why help me?”

“Help Ghost.”

“Yes, but why?”

“To help.” You stop walking and grab his hand, giving it a firm squeeze, then put your other hand against his chest.

You stare at your hand, how small it is on the broad expanse of his gear-covered chest, then flutter your gaze up toward his eyes.

“Good man,” you whisper, pressing your fingers harder into his chest.

He swears, through all the layers, he can feel the warmth of your skin.

His upper and lower lashes kiss for a moment before he inhales deeply and chuckles. His gaze softens and he shakes his head, giving your hand a squeeze.

“You must be confused, little one. I’m a lotta things but a good man ain’t one of ‘em.”

You glare up at him and yank on his hand. Though you’re not nearly strong enough to force him to move, he takes a step closer, so close that your bodies are nearly pressed against each other.

“Not confused. Not wrong. Ghost… good man… in here.” You slide your hand up to rest over where you imagine his heart is, your own skipping a beat when he covers your hand with his.

“You’re not wrong? No, never,” he muses, a grin pulling at his lips beneath his mask.

You nod, happy that the two of you are in agreement.

Slowly, you look up at him through your lashes.

The intensity of your gaze has sweat tickling his palms and for a very brief moment he wishes his mask wasn’t in the way.

A soft sigh like the flutter of a butterfly’s wings leaves your parted lips, and then you’re taking a step away from him and toward the dark shadows of the city.

“I go now. Bye-bye, Ghost.”

“This is where I leave you?”

You nod your agreement, taking another step away from him.

“You’ll be safe, mouse, yeah?”

You grin at him and pull out the skull picture you snagged from his pocket, showing it to him proudly.

“With Ghost… always safe.”

A soft smile tugs at his lips and he nods, “always safe with me.”

You give him a small wave then turn around and all but disappear into the darkness, much like you always do.

He stands there for a long while, a thousand thoughts racing through his mind but the one that sticks out like a sore thumb is

Stay.

[bonezone44]

Pretty Is As Pretty Does (18+)

Uncle!Ezra x F!Reader x Uncle!Tommy

Summary: The best part about Uncle!Ezra and Uncle!Tommy is that they always smile when you walk in.

Word Count: 2883

tags: spitroast, double creampie, praise kink, southern accents, being called 'pretty', two men talking about you as if you aren't there. nicknames for Reader: angel, niece, baby, honey, sugar.

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

It's late at night and you can't sleep. Been tossing and turning for what feels like hours. You finally decide to get out of bed and do something, anything, rather than lie there counting endless sheep.

You make your way to the kitchen with sleepy bare footsteps. You hear murmuring out the back door--deep, smooth voices and soft laughter. You figure Ezra has a friend over. You bite your lip. You want Ezra to yourself for some quality time. Maybe if you let him know you're up, he'll send his friend home. It's worth a shot anyway. You've got nothing better to do.

When you step out onto the screened in back porch, you see Ezra reclining in one chair and his friend in the other. Theyre silhouetted by the blue light of a bug zapper hanging in the corner. It's been a hot summer, but tonight the air is cooler and drier than it has been in weeks. The wood floors creak as you step further onto the porch and both men go quiet and turn to you.

"Hey, angel," says Ezra with a wry smile on his face. "What're you doin up this late?"

"Can't sleep," you answer with a shrug.

"Aww, you poor thing." He holds his hand out towards you. "Me and Uncle Tommy are out here shootin the shit. Why don't you come sit with us for a while?"

That's when your whole body goes hot. You look over and realize it wasn't just any of Ezra’s friends. It was Tommy. And Tommy’s got a nice little smile on his face, too, as his eyes rake over you in your pajamas and bare feet.

" Damn, girl," says Tommy. "You get prettier and prettier every time I see you."

Your cheeks burn and you fidget. "I don't know about that--"

"Shit, I do. I bet you gotta beat them boys off you with a stick."

You wave him off. "No way."

"Aww, look at her bein shy," says Ezra, turning further toward you in his chair. "There is no need to be so timid around your uncles, angel."

"That's right, honey," says Tommy. "It's just us. You don't gotta worry bout nothin around us." He smiles. "We'll keep you safe from all them boys out there. We'll have 'em runnin off. Don't you worry about that."

You roll your eyes with a smile.

"What? You don't believe us?" asks Ezra with big, puppy dog lookin' eyes.

You shake your head. "Y'all are just sayin stuff."

"Oh, c'mere, honey," says Tommy as he reaches out and grabs your hand. "Why don't you come sit by Uncle Tommy and let him show you how pretty he thinks you are?"

Tommy's one of the most handsomest men you've ever seen in your entire life. He's got beautiful wavy hair that curls beneath his ears. His voice is so smooth and syrupy compared to Ezra's deep rasp. He's always wearing nice blue jeans and cleaned-up cowboy boots. Ezra almost never tries to dress nice to the point where you've given up on ever looking nice, too. And right now, you're standing in your sleep clothes and Tommy's offering you something that you weren't even trying for.

Your heart races in your chest and you gush between your legs. Your face is on fire--the whole situation makes you so nervous. What if they're lying? What if they're just playing tricks on you? What if this is all one big joke? Your history with Ezra didn't matter. He could change his mind at any minute and go running off leaving you all alone. You were tired of being abandoned by the people you trusted most.

Ezra rests his large hand on your hip. You can feel the heat of him through the thin fabric of your shorts. "Go on, angel. Uncle Tommy ain't gonna hurt you none." You glance at Ezra nervously and he nods. "Go on," he says again.

You decide to give in. Ezra's been around long enough. He knows you. He knows how anxious you get. And if he's there, it does feel safer. You've at least got one person on your side if Tommy doesn't treat you right.

You take two steps towards Tommy and the two men immediately relax. Tommy spreads his legs and guides you by your hips to sit between them. He pulls you back against his warm, broad chest. He feels so solid and sturdy behind you. And he smells like something clean and bright--waking you up even more, making you more aware of just how much of his body is touching yours. His hands slide up and down your bare shoulders.

"Now what's makin you think you're not the prettiest thing on two legs, sugar?" says Tommy.

"I-I don't know," you answer. You did know, though. It was all the movies and TV and magazines. All the clothing stores and boutiques where the clothes never quite fit you right. It felt like the whole world was telling you that you weren't pretty enough to be loved.

"Too much TV," says Ezra and you roll your eyes.

Tommy chuckles into your skin as he presses light kisses into your shoulder. Each one excites you and soothes you at the same time. "You know all that stuff is fake, don'tchu?" His hands slide down your arms, squeezing you just above your elbows. "You can't be thinkin ya ain't pretty just 'cause ya ain't fake, now, sugar. 'S not what men like anyway."

"Not any man worth a damn," adds Ezra.

"That's right," says Tommy. His hands move from your arms to your waist. "Men know a real thing when they see it, sugar." His hands slide up to your breasts and he gropes them in each hand. "And we got ourselves a real one right here."

Your hands grasp tight onto Tommy's knees next to your own. You glance over at Ezra with hazy eyes and Ezra sits so casually as if nothing unconventional is going on.

"'S about what's on the inside," says Ezra, flicking dirt off his ankle as he goes to cross his legs. "That's what counts."

"That's right," says Tommy. He squeezes your nipples through your shirt. "And I'm proud to say that our little niece here is pretty on the inside and out."

"She sure is, ain't she?" says Ezra.

You don't know how to respond. You're not sure what to do. All you know is that there's a pool of slickness growing between your legs and it's enough that you wonder if you're gonna leave a wet spot on the chair beneath you.

"What? You still don't believe us?" says Tommy.

"She can be real stubborn when she wants to be," says Ezra.

Tommy chuckles. "How 'bout this? Don't you feel this, sugar?" One of Tommy's hands slides down the front of you to cup you between your legs. He pulls you flush against him and that's when you feel it. That's when you feel how hard he is. You're not sure how you missed it before. It feels like a steel rod against your back. "You feelin' what you do to your Uncle Tommy, baby?" He rolls his hips against you. "'M about to burst and we ain't even done nothin, yet. We're just sittin here talkin."

Part of you wants to laugh at that. There's a hell of a lot more going on than just talking.

"I think she's grown weary of conversation, brother," says Ezra.

Tommy chuckles again. "Ya think?"

"Yeeeeep," Ezra groans and stands from his chair. "And you did promise to show her how pretty she was."

"I sure did, didn't I?"

Ezra walks over and stands in front of you. You feel surrounded--caged in. But not unsafe. "Whatchu thinkin', angel?" Ezra cradles your face in his big hands. He leans close enough to you that the whole rest of the back porch disappears. "Want me to get you ready for Uncle Tommy?"

Oh fuck. Does Ezra mean what you think he means? "O-Okay," you say.

"Good girl." He grins briefly before his eyes go wide and serious again. "Uncle Tommy's big. I don't want you gettin hurt."

You nod. "Okay."

Ezra sinks to his knees before you. He reaches for your waistband and you lift your hips as he tugs your shorts down and off your legs. "Mm-mmm," hums Ezra, staring between your thighs. "Our little niece is pretty everywhere." His large fingers poke and prod at your lips. "She's wet, too." He spreads your pussy apart with both hands. "Soakin," he says.

"Is she now?" Tommy says. His breathing's picked up. Both his hands back on your chest. You can feel his whole body rolling into you, even if just in the smallest way. Ezra's touch has you responding in kind.

Ezra's head tilts upward with his fingers still on you. "Remember that job on Breyer street? The house with all those cat paintings?"

Tommy stills a moment. "... y-yeah?"

"Remember how that faucet on the side of the house wouldn't stop leaking?"

"...yeah?"

"That's about what she looks like right now."

Tommy laughs and holds you close, grinding against you. "Fuck, man. You can't be sayin shit like that to me, man. What the hell?"

"I am merely trying to be honest with you," says Ezra with a shrug. He thrusts two thick fingers inside of you with one hand and with the other, he rests his thumb against your clit. Unmoving. Simply applying pressure as you and Tommy's bodies move together.

"Oh my god," you moan as Ezra's fingers stroke inside you and Tommy whispers in your ear.

"'S Uncle Ezra makin you feel good, sugar? 'S he touchin you just right?"

"Mm-hmm," you whimper. "So good. So good."

"You feel how pretty we think you are, honey?" asks Tommy.

"And it's not just because you're our favorite little niece," says Ezra.

"That's right," says Tommy. "'S because it's a fact, sugar." Tommy grunts. Ezra's fingers squelch inside your wet walls. "It's a fact that you're the prettiest goddamn thing we've ever seen."

"Our pretty little angel inside and out," Ezra says with a smirk as he adds a third finger inside you.

"Oh fuck" you moan and writhe.

Tommy chuckles. "Even if she got a dirty mouth on her."

Ezra laughs, too. "Oh she's filthy."

"Is that right?"

"I-I don't know." Your dizzy with desire. You're surprised you can register anything they're saying to you.

"How 'boutchu get that filthy mouth on Uncle Ezra's cock while Uncle Tommy gets inside this pussy, huh, sugar? How's that sound?"

"Yeah, okay," you slur.

Ezra pulls his fingers out of you and stands. Tommy scoots you forward so he can undo his jeans. He and Ezra situate you so that your feet are on the floor with your ass hovering above Tommy's lap. Your hands grip the arms of Tommy's chair. Ezra pulls his own cock out of his pants and it bobs in front of your face.

You and Tommy both hiss as he pierces your cunt. Ezra was right. Tommy is big.

"Shit, man. You didn't tell me it was like this--" Tommy chokes out through panting breaths.

You bite your lip and groan.

Ezra chuckles as he strokes himself. "I tried, brother, but some things are best experienced for yourself."

"You got that right," says Tommy. He moans and curses as he guides you up and down his shaft, providing you with the rhythm and speed.

Once you feel steady enough, you open your eyes and Ezra's cock is hard and ready for you. You open your mouth, eager to hold its weight on your tongue. He doesn't thrust or move--merely lets your rhythm on Tommy's lap provide all the back-and-forth action.

"You're doing perfect, angel," says Ezra as he caresses your cheek. You've given him much better blowjobs before but he's looking down at you like you're giving him the high of a lifetime. "You look so pretty."

"Prettiest fuckin thing we ever fucked," grunts out Tommy.

"Play with that clit and she'll cream all over ya," says Ezra.

"Goddamn," curses Tommy. And he does what Ezra says. He reaches one hand around and presses hard against your clit. Four fingers rubbing back and forth just above where his cock is thrusting in and out of you.

Syrupy warmth begins to flood between your legs and seconds later your spasming between the two men--thighs twitching and toes curling.

Tommy curses again. "If she wasn't my favorite niece before, she sure as shit would be now."

"Told ya," says Ezra.

Tommy continues to thrust into you as you bounce onto him. "Yeah, suck his cock. Suck Uncle Ezra's cock, sugar."

Ezra does his best to keep his cock inside your mouth, but he doesn't seem too concerned about your performance there. It seems to be enough to watch you getting fucked so hard by your Uncle Tommy. Hearing your thighs slap each other and his cock squelch inside you is like music to Ezra's ears and dick. And your whimpers--goddamn!--you got the prettiest little whimpers he's ever heard in his life. Add in Tommy's desperate grunts and Ezra's careening toward the edge and nearly sent over it. He has to take a step back to get control of himself.

Without Ezra's cock to muffle you, your whimpers turn into shouts and Tommy grits his teeth. "Where do I cum?" asks Tommy through strained breaths.

"Fill her up, brother." Ezra's eyes sparkle at you. "Then I'll take my turn inside our pretty little pussy."

Tommy curses some more. He wraps his arms around you and taps on your clit, hoping to make you come along with him. And you do, it's hard not to. His thrusts were hitting all the right spots in your inner walls and Ezra's standing in front of you and watching you with tender focus. Your legs twitch and your toes curl all over again.

"Alright, now, hold it all in, angel," says Ezra with a stern expression on his face and you know what he means. You reach between your legs as Tommy pulls out and you do your best to keep all his cum inside you.

Ezra sits and then lies down on the floor, his cock hard and at attention. He waves you over with the flick of his fingers. "Come ride your Uncle Ezra, baby. Come show me how it's done," he says.

And something animalistic has been triggered inside of you as Ezra casually reclines on the hard wood floor. His elbows are bent and his head rests in both hands. He dons a simple smile and it almost drives you crazy. You want him as desperate for you as you are for him. You want him aching and writhing for your touch. He's been too relaxed this whole time and you almost hate him for it.

Tommy's cum is beginning to seep from between your fingers so you hustle to sit on Ezra's cock. Ezra's facial expression doesn't change as you sink onto him--but you notice the way his hips curl ever so slightly into you. He's holding back and you wanna make him give in. But you know Ezra, just as much as he knows you. And riding him how he likes it isn't going to get you anywhere. He wants you to use him--make yourself come by whatever means necessary. And that is certainly something you can oblige by.

So you do. Your hands grip his chest and you find the right angle that allows you to roll your hips into him with your clit pressed against his skin. You decide to take. You take and take and take your pleasure from him--you don't give a shit what makes him feel good. This one's all about you. And eventually he does give in. You see the way he grits his teeth and bites his lip. His hands fly to your waist, but you don't let him guide you at all. This is your ride and your orgasm. Even if you've already had two and Ezra's yet to have one.

But it was just what Ezra wanted--he was getting off on you getting off and some kind of feedback loop developed into both of you getting off and your panting and he's snarling and then suddenly there's another burst of hot liquid inside of you and seeping out of you. And you don't know it, yet, but Ezra loves when all the juices and cum are soaking his lap and he's filthy with the remnants of a well-and-good fucking. And if he could suck his own dick after all of it, he would. But instead, he pulls you up his body and has you sit on his face and he gives your pussy the most tender and loving kiss with tongue and all. All while your trembling and dizzy from overstimulation.

Once you finally take a moment to breathe. You find Tommy watching with lazy, tired eyes from his chair, his own cock already tucked back in. But there's a smirk on his face that tells you he appreciated the show you and Ezra just gave him.

"Alright, angel," says Ezra with a messy mouth. "Let's go put you back to bed."

------

a/n: wow. so horny. jesus christ.

tagging: @neverwheremoonchild @xdaddysprincessxx 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

[wood-row]

can i really drive in the engineer dad hc. medic is just a little boy to me

Scout has often noticed how Dell tries to father the rest of his teammates. Perhaps it's his own lack of a father figure that prompts his observation, but he can't shake it, that strange familiarity.

He watches Sniper stalk into the living room, grumbling about the small box of leftovers that made its way into her camper fridge. Dell's handwriting litters the base- scrawled into the crevice of the Shortstop, Scout can just make out the Engineer's faded note taking. She complains of his mother henning, but Scout does not miss the way she bregrudgingly admires the taste, how she misses having those home cooked meals.

The older ones, Scout notices, get fathered too. Tonight he watches Demo across the fire. It's a good night for a fire, the whole lot of them had sat around the camp, cleaning weapons and trading stories. That was an hour ago, and now only Scout remains, watching sadly from the flames as Tavish drinks himself into a stupor.

"Now, what're y'all still doin' out this late?" Scout looks over and cringes at the florescent light that floods the outside. Dell stands in the doorway, a blanket hauled over his shoulders and a bottle of water in his hand, like he'd expected to walk into this exact scene. Heavy footfalls mark the end of the night, and Scout rises to put out the fire, watching the two from the corner of his eye.

Dell stoops down first to offer Tavish the bottle, unscrews the cap and even puts it to his lips when his hands falter. Dell hums, discontent as he rises, sighing when his back pops with the motion. In a moment, Dell wraps the blanket over the Demo's shoulders, holds it in place with both hands and steers him to the open door.

"You'll catch cold, out here all night..and you too, boy." Scout hears just as he stomps the last embers out.

But there's one Scout doesnt understand.

Today, he's shadowing the Heavy. Mischa proves uninteresting, but tolerant as Scout perches on top of the sofa, squinting down at at novel in Heavy's hands. A quiet afternoon, Scout heaves a sigh, and leaves his perch to find something more interesting.

A flurry of wings accompany the boom of the Med Bay's doors slamming open. Footsteps slap against the tile floors, and Scout looks up just in time to watch Pyro sprint out of the Med Bay, crying in distress.

Scout blinks at the destruction left in their wake- and empty hallway, untouched. The doors slowly creak shut. When he speaks, uttering his confusion, he is quickly shushed by Mischa, but Dell fills in the blanks, marching into the livingroom with a small tupperware and a bottle of water. He pays little mind to Scout's gawking and brushes past, shuffling through the Med Bay doors.

Of course, Scout follows, gently pushing the doors open to peer inside, then tip-toeing carefully to an apt hiding spot.

The sight is not a familiar one. The doctor is always very headstrong, even if he is undoubtedly manic. Unshakable in even the worst battles, Scout has come to see Günter as almost a beacon of their fighting cause. Infallible.

Günter sits with his back against the desk. He would be facing the double doors, but his face is well obscured. Dell crouches down to his level.

"What's wrong, pardner?" He says, so softly Scout nearly misses it.

"Pyro say somethin'? Aw, you know he don't mean nothin' by it. You just riled up, is all. Now, what's the matter?"

Scout wonders if Günter really is in his fifties. Maybe hes just a boy, pretending to be the old man he is. It sure seems to be that way, and Günter leans foreard to Dell's open arms, hands white-knuckling the fabric of his work shirt. Dell holds him there, makes himself comfortable on the hard floor and rocks Günter slowly, like a babe.

Scout watches for a time, feeling awfully like he'd seen something he shouldn't have. Günter cries like a child, but that doesn't seem to matter; his childishness, Dell holds him all the same. When those sobs pitter out into nothing, save the soft hiccuping, Dell gently wipes the tears away before they dry, hoists Medic up and then keeps him there. Scout sees the look on Günters face: lost, disconnected. He thinks he might start crying again at any given second.

"There y'go, good job, big guy. Let's get you to bed, huh?" And Günter can only nod, following Dell like a child at the heel of his father into the bedroom close connected. Scout slips out in the meantime, left to ponder what he'd seen.

[bellaxgiornata]

In honor of my birthday, I present to y'all another one of these weird ass internal dialogue things with our three main men! Enjoy them trying to figure out a birthday surprise as this scene randomly came to me.

Mikey, picking up a container: Think this one'd be good. She said she's been cravin' cheesecake.

Matt, sniffing the air: The one with different flavors? Yeah. She'll like that. But grab the other one instead.

Mikey, confused: Why?

Matt: It smells fresher. Better.

Mikey, tentatively swapping out cheesecakes: Still really weird how ya do that.

Matt: So you've said. Now all that's left is grabbing the weighted blanket for her.

Mikey, leading the pair of them through the store: Think she'll really love that. I have to admit, that was a good idea ya had.

Matt: She needs to learn to relax. Figure it'll help. Or at the very least, she'll be trapped under a fifteen pound blanket. Maybe then she'll take a break.

Mikey, chuckling: S'pose that'll do it. What happened to Frank?

Matt: Said he was getting her balloons.

Mikey and Matt stop at the section of blankets. Matt begins touching them all while Michael curiously watches.

Michael, quirking a brow: Uhh...what're ya doin'?

Matt, pausing and glancing over his shoulder: Looking for the softest one, obviously.

Michael, muttering under his breath sarcastically: Obviously.

Frank appears around the corner of the aisle a minute later, catching Michael’s eye before he immediately bursts into laughter.

Frank, unamused: Don't even say it.

Matt, picking out a blanket and focusing on Frank: Don't say what? What's so funny?

Michael, snickering: The balloons he's carryin' along with the--

Michael breaks into a fit of laughter while Frank frowns.

Matt, brows furrowing: I don't get it. What's going on?

Michael, still fighting fits of laughter: They're princess themed. And he's wearin' a pink tiara.

Matt, trying to fight down his own laughter: Dressin' up for her, are you? You going to help us make the vegetable lasagna while wearing that, too?

Frank, irritated: Shut up, Red. Her son said he wanted her to have a princess birthday. So, I'm giving her a princess birthday. Like he requested.

Matt, still holding back a fit of laughter: That's--that's sweet, Frank.

Frank, annoyed as he stalks past them: 'Bout to punch both of ya in the face. Let's go.

Michael, following after with Matt: But did ya need to wear the tiara?

Frank, glancing over his shoulder looking unamused: Yeah, I did. Got one for both of you, too. So stop laughing before I find you both princess dresses to match it.

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Fall Drabbles, Day 3

prompt: scarecrow

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader

summary: When the new member of his town is struggling, Frank lends a hand.

warnings: swearing, once again adorable levels of fluff

a/n: When I tell y'all I am SO excited for this one. This is a Lumberjack!Frank Stardew Valley AU!!!! You do not need to be familiar with the game to enjoy this piece. Let me know if y'all want to see more in this AU!

w/c: <1k

Wiping the sweat off his brow, Frank let the ax head thud against the lush grass. Huffing a breath, he stretched his tense shoulders, trying to unravel the stubborn knots building across his upper back from the extensive physical labor. As he was about to lift the ax once more, a rustling in the clearing behind him gave him pause. 

Squinting, he made out a figure crouched by a stack of sticks across the meadow. After a moment, the person shifted towards him enough for him to identify you. 

He’d only spoken to you twice, if single word sentences and grunts could be considered speaking, but he knew a lot about you. The unfortunate effects of being a newcomer in a small rural town, he supposed, your entire existence became exciting local news. You were looking after Old Man Taylor’s run down cabin, he’d even heard whispers about you repairing the place to start a farm. 

Despite learning a majority about you from other people, you intrigued him. Everything about you was young, soft, sweet, not at all what he expected a new farmer to be considering the aging community he lived in. 

In the distance, you rifled through the pile of fallen branches at the base of the large oak tree, studying the group before selecting a few to add to your basket. Hands perched on your hips, you tilted your head before grasping the largest of the bunch, a split tree limb, and dragging it backwards. Frank bit back a laugh as your body lost the fight against the weight and resistance of the branch when you fell on your ass. Deciding to stop lurking and come to your aid, he called from across the clearing. “Was that the plan or did ya need some help?”

Whirling around, butt still planted on the mossy ground, you laughed when you spotted him. “Lord above, Frank, you nearly gave me a heart attack.” 

Basking in the beautiful tone of your voice, he strode over to you, watching your beautifully unmarred hands brush dirt off of your overalls as you stood up. 

Heat flooded your face as you replayed his offer in your head. ”You saw my valiant attempt then...“ Biting your lip, you glanced up at him. 

Sucking in a breath, Frank was taken aback by the immediate effect your doe eyes had on him. ”Happens to the best of us.“ He shrugged, hoping that his face hadn't betrayed his desire to sweep you off your feet and carry you back to your place.

You scoffed, "Oh yeah? Hard to believe you given that you're so...” You trailed off, circling a hand in his general direction. 

The barest hint of a smirk graced his lips. “So what, sweetheart?” 

Huffing in embarrassment, you averted your eyes from his stunningly fit body. “Nothing.” You murmured. 

Eyes softening, Frank looked to you for approval. “Did ya want a hand with that?”

There were those magnificent doe eyes again. You nodded slowly. 

Grasping the fallen limb with one hand, Frank hefted it up with ease, setting it over a broad shoulder. “Where to, dollface?”

Smiling at the nickname, you answered shyly. “My cabin, if that's not too far for you.”

“Course not, since I'm so...” He imitated your comment from earlier and you rolled your eyes.

“You know what, tough guy!” You laughed, not finishing the empty threat. 

“What're you plannin' on doin' with this thing anyway? Clubbin' seals?” 

You looked at him, horrified, “No! Of course not! I would never--” You paused, then rolled your eyes. “That's a cruel joke, Frank. You had me thinking I'd made an awful impression.” 

Frank chuckled. ”Sorry, dollface.”

“You're forgiven.” You smiled sweetly. “And, since you asked SO nicely, I'm building a scarecrow.”

Brow furrowing, Frank's steps faltered, “A scarecrow?”

“Yeah, they're these little human-shaped statues that you put in the middle of your crops to scare the crows.” You explained, twinkle of jest in your eye as you smirked at him. 

“I know what they are, smart ass.” Frank snorted, “I meant why're you buildin' one?”

You shrugged, eyes falling to the ground, “I, uh, I planted some crops a few weeks ago and the birds got to them as soon as theey sprouted. Guess I'm not too good at this whole 'farming' thing, huh?” The chuckle that left your mouth was humorless and sad. Frank's heart twisted in response. 

“Hey now, you're tryin'. That's what matters.”

Giving an unsure smile, your lips twitched upwards. “Thanks, Frank.”

“Course, sweetheart. Did you want some help buildin' it?”

Tilting your head, your voice was laced with appreciative surprise, “You'd do that?” 

Nodding solemnly, Frank gave what he hoped was an encouraging smile. “In a heartbeat, dollface.” 

With a giggle, you took his free hand and pulled him all the way back to your house. 

A few hours, buckets of sweat, and a quick trip to Frank's place later, the two of you looked proudly at the tall, only slightly lopsided, scarecrow standing guard in your field.

Running a hand over the flannel shirt that composed the torso, a soft smile sprouted. “I hope you don't want this shirt back.“

Frank squeezed your shoulder. ”It looks better on him anyway.“

[oni-drawfriend]

(Sometimes, I write little stories to go along with my drawings, because I don't like to use clinical descriptions for alt text when the subject matter is spicy to begin with. I don't think I've ever posted any of them here, though! Let's try it out with the saga of the Boss and his goons, as a test.)

"The Boss… he ain't been himself lately", is what you've been hearing for a few weeks now. He's been weirdly reclusive since that trip he insisted on attending alone, without your protection. You suspect he may have found something valuable he doesn't want the rest of the family to know about.

That's why you and your mates decide to snoop around his quarters. But even though you were certain it was too quiet for him to be around, you're proven wrong when as a husky voice creeps up behind you. "What're ya lousy goons doin' in MY dressing room!?" It's the Boss, caught in the middle of undressing -- or perhaps, it's him who has caught you.

"Sorry, Boss!", says one of you. "I had NOTHING to do with this!" "It was Tony's idea, I swear…!"

But the expected reprimand never comes. Instead, he quietly shuts the door behind him, and his voice takes a turn for the sultry. "Now, now, I wasn't tellin' ya to leave…", he says as he strokes your face with eerily long fingernails. "Stick around, will ya?"

The Boss's gaze feels especially intimidating today. As he looks straight into each one of you, none can stand to meet it, looking away, their faces flushing beet red. That is, until he locks eyes with you.

He licks his lips, and although your heart's pounding resounds like a church's bell inside your head, you simply can't look away. He swiftly pulls you by the collar, before pushing you down to the floor, and before you know what's happening, the full weight of his sweaty body is lying on top of you.

"Hmmph-! W-What's da big idea, Boss!? I… I ain't signed up for… this!". Whine as much as you may to keep up appearances in front of your associates, deep within, you find the scent of his body intoxicating; the touch of his smooth skin against your face finer than silk.

"And YOU!", he barks out at the other men staring with their mouths agape. "I hope y'all know, I ain't gonna be satisfied drainin' just one of ya goons…"

[simp-thingz]

I had this idea when I was watching invincible. Headcanons for a some of the lady pro heroes (your choice) on how they would happen if their hero!male!s/o killing a villain?? (Like how they would react and stuff) think of it as something like this:

Source: the Injustice comics by DC

(Sorry this took so long, I got distracted but I hope you like it )

-Midnight

• She would probably start panicking 

• She isn't sure what to do, she sure as hell doesn't want you going to jail

• "Babe chill, we can just dump the body and report it later" : Y/N, cool as a cucumber five seconds after killing someone

• Did the hero commission find out? Yes. Did you lose your license? Nope.

•You got put on paid leave for two weeks while the commission got things under wraps 

•Safe to say, she's NEVER leaving you alone again during work

-Miruko

~ She's not as worried as Midnight was since similar situations came up while she patrolled with her bestie Hawks

~ You guys just stared at each other with shocked faces for a minute before getting to work deposing the body

~ "So what're we doin' for dinner?" "Don't even speak to me about food right now"

~ Y'all stayed late at work filing incident reports afterward but nothing ever came of it.

~ BUT Miruko did make you sleep on the couch as a punishment

- Mount Lady

☆ Honestly? She's terrified.

☆ The villain hadn't been much older than a high school student 

☆ And she's NEVER seen you THIS mad, it was like you were a different person entirely in that moment 

☆ You weren't fairing much better, hating the feeling of not being in control of your own body

☆ You guys ended up getting in a huge fight about whether or not y'all should report the incident 

☆ "Y/N WE HAVE TO TELL SOMEBODY!!" "DO YOU WANT ME TO LOSE MY LISCENCE???!!! WE HAVE TO KEEP IT A SECRET!!"

☆You guys ended up avoiding each other while you worked through the guilt and fear from what happened.

[nightmareonpeachstreet]

what're y'all doin there's nothing there. what are you even attacking?

[hick4hire]

@peppy-jester —

💀

[ cw g/ore ; b/lood ; d/eath ; v/iolence under read more ]

The world keeps going. Despite his failures, despite his losing streak, despite being set on fucking fire— he was back on his feet and back on the job. Locate. Execute. Locate. Execute. If he didn't relish in every kill, he might have been bored by now.

But as it were, the sight of blood, even at a distance, stimulated something in his brain juuust right. The same way some people found popping bubble wrap— everything about the instant the life was choked out of their miserable, pathetic bodies was endlessly fascinating to the hybrid. Stress relieving, even. A pleasant buzz that held him tightly and soaked him to the bones in sadistic bliss. He could breathe easier. As if he'd absorbed his victim's very life force in gruesome, vampiric fashion.

Everything about this job was a routine by now. A list, a formula, a smooth clean checkmark in a box. This target had been no different. A melee kill, bring back the target's watch, and a picture of the corpse. Simple enough. Nothing remarkable whatsoever.

So, when he's sliding the knife into the target's torso, roughly twisting it as the serrated blade parts skin and pierces meat... The last demon he expects to see when he lifted his head was that damned clown that Crimson had tried to sell back to the Prince of Lust.

A few things happen at once: he freezes, a cold jolt of fear ripping down his spine like an electric shock. His gaze darts to the area behind the doorway, past Fizz, eyes wide open, observing every flicker of movement.

His biology makes this a much easier process than it might be for a regular imp or regular loan shark: a special secondary eyelid dropped, made of a membrane sensitive to heat that allowed him to see a sort of overlay for heat signatures. In short, built in infrared.

From what he understood of regular hell beast snakes, this feature was some sort of convenient adaptation of a special organ that most vipers possessed: something called the pit organ that was usually beside a hellsnake's nostril on the snout. As a child, he'd asked his parents about it, but they knew as much about his particular mutation as he did.

He doesn't see any signs of Asmodeus' presence. Fizz was alone, from what he could tell. The fear completely fades from his face, a sneer replacing his brief stunned expression. "Well, howdy. Don't mind me, clown. I'm just finishing up in here."

The imp in Striker's claws has been pinned down to the floor, Striker's knife still embedded into them. They're squirming and struggling, but Striker doesn't pay it any attention. The desperate clawing at his arms was laughable. He twists the knife further in with a satisfying crunch, staring unblinkingly at Fizz.

"Well, What're you doin' this side 'a town? Didn't think your biddy'd let ya go free range just yet." Striker's grin is wide, something crazed and gleeful entering his eyes. He pulls the knife up out of the imp's chest and with a casual, graceful motion, cleanly slits their throat. He grabs their arm, ripping the watch off them. One checkmark. Two checkmarks. Two boxes ticked. Only one left. Better not take too long with the clown.

"...You ain't gonna do nothin' stupid, are ya, Fizz? You don't got that fight in ya." Striker doesn't even say it aggressively: he says it like he's making small talk about the weather. "I saw ya back in that warehouse, yack. Y'r a performer, not a fighter. Wanna do some shadow puppets for this poor fucker?"

A cruel snicker before he backhands the target, who's miserably choking on their own blood and flopping like a fish. "Better yet, you can feature in his final photo. Bet that'd sell to your freakish fanbase, huh?"

Striker stands up as the body beneath him finally goes limp. "Tch. You seein' this shit? This fucker didn't even properly scratch me. Can you believe that? Our kind was made by Wrath. Satan, for fuck's sake. But ohhh no. Y'all grandparent's left t' the other rings n' got right cushy, didn't ya? Livin' in those big cities, slavin' away for Overlords and royals. Pathetic." He spins the knife in his hand with such force the black blood is flicked off it. "You, though, you're the worst case I've ever seen." Striker takes several slow steps forward, eyes glowing brightly.

"Run." Striker leans forward slightly. His body language shifts to show just how prepared he is to burst into a sprint. Fizz wasn't get out of this without a little game of cat and mouse.

[more-better-words]

Foolish me, thinking I was done with ENT fic. Now the Tucker family is in my head and I may never be free!

January 25, 2155

“…a private memorial service was held earlier today. Medical experts say-”

Elaine Tucker turned off the news, and stared at the darkening evening sky. So this was how the Terra Prime madness ended – with the death of an innocent. She couldn’t find it comforting that it was only the one. Hadn't they all suffered enough in the last year and change? And what kind of point did they think that baby made anyway? But that was terrorists for you, thinking their dramatic gesture meant something completely different than what a sane person would see.

Honestly, if humans and Vulcans can make such pretty babies, maybe we should have started years ago, she thought.

She took a long sip of her wine. The house was quiet – Charles was upstairs, tinkering with the old camera Albert and Miguel had given him for his birthday. She liked this house, and she liked Savannah, but it felt…guilty these days. “I don't know why you need to move,” Lizzie had said. “It's a 30 minute shuttle ride.” But Elaine liked to be hands on, and this was where the new archive was. And at the time it had felt right - Albert and Miguel had recently moved, and Trip was in space, for God’s sake. “It is only 30 minutes,” she'd told her daughter. “We'll still be here all the time.” But they hadn’t been there when she died.

There was the unmistakable sound of a step on the front porch. She furrowed her brow and set aside her wine glass. Who could that be? The doorbell chimed, and she answered it.

“CHARLES!”

Her husband tore down the stairs to see her standing in front of the open door, staring at their oldest child.

He looked like hell. He was haggard, red-eyed, his left arm bound in a sling. Maybe was why she hesitated at first, but then she heard Charles whisper his name, and the dam burst.

The next two minutes were an overlapping babble of questions and exclamations and tears and a three-way embrace between only five arms. Finally Charles regained enough composure to murmur, “We're lettin’ out the inside, honey,” and Elaine nodded and took Trip's good hand to lead him inside so Charles could close the door.

“Trip, baby, what're you doin' here?” she asked.

He sank into the couch cushions as if he never intended to stand again. “I’m sure it's been on the news,” he said.

“Those Terra Prime jackasses?” Charles folded his arms, and motioned tersely at his son's wounded shoulder. “They do that?”

“Don’t worry, Dad, they got theirs.”

Elaine rubbed her arms. “Can't stand thinkin’ about you up there dealin' with people like that. At least aliens are, ya know…alien. Humans should know better by now.” She hovered over him anxiously. Lord, he looked like he hadn’t slept in days. “What can I get you, honey?”

“Some sweet tea'd be nice, maybe.”

She nodded and bustled into the kitchen. Charles eyed Trip carefully. “You didn’t answer her question, son. We've barely seen you in two years.”

“I know,” Trip said. His voice was worn. Elaine reappeared, a glass of tea in hand that he accepted gratefully. “I was at the memorial service, and…I just needed to see y'all.”

“The memorial? Oh, for the baby. Poor little thing.”

“Her name was Elizabeth,” Trip said softly.

She felt herself smile ever so slightly. “Was it? Well…it's a good name.”

“It wasn’t a coincidence, Mama.” He let out a heavy breath. “What are they sayin' about her on the news? What’s the story?”

The elder Tuckers shared a look. “She was a binary clone,” Elaine said, “made with stolen DNA from a Vulcan woman and a human man. They wanted it to be scary that we can potentially reproduce, but that's just stupid.”

“Okay.” Trip took a long swig of his tea. “What I’m about to tell you has to stay in this room.”

Another parental look. “’Course,” Charles said.

“The Vulcan DNA they stole came from T'Pol, the First Officer on Enterprise. The human DNA…was mine.”

A dense, blanketing silence filled the room. Elaine’s eyes were huge, and it took her a few false starts to find her voice. “Trip, sweetie…are you saying that little girl was our grandbaby?” He nodded miserably, tears starting in his  eyes. She threw her arms around him, pulling him tight, letting him weep.

Charles watched, his own heart keening. It didn’t matter how old they were; it never got easier to see his children hurt. “So you named her Elizabeth,” he said quietly. Trip dashed at his eyes with his thumb, shaking his head.

“Actually, no, it uh…it’s was T'Pol's idea.”

“Well, that was real sweet of her,” Elaine said.

“It was,” Charles agreed. “But…why you, son? Of all the men on your ship, why was it your DNA?”

Trip dragged his good hand over his face. “Um…T'Pol and me…it's complicated.”

November 17, 2155

“Charles!” Elaine called up from the living room. “We just a message from Trip!”

He looked wonderful. The image of him on the screen was ebullient, beaming. Elaine hadn’t seen him smile like that in years. She couldn’t help it – she smiled back, hand half extended to touch his smiling face. “Mama, Dad – I got big news and not a lotta time, so I’m sorry in advance for dropping this on you and running but-” He heaved a quick breath, like he was about to dive into cold water. “T'Pol and I are gettin' married! We're gettin' married, and I can’t wait for you to meet her, and I have a ton of news and no time, but I promise I will tell you everything and soon. I love y’all, we'll talk soon!”

Charles and Elaine looked at one another, both more than a little stunned at the shotgun blast of information. “I guess it got less complicated,” he said.

“Guess so.”

[ncityavenue]

Can you do an oneshot with Mark? It can be about anything, I don't necessarily know what specifics to request😅

I love how the first one i get is abt my ult. I love u for this<3 ANYWAYS. BARE WITH ME IF THIS NOT GOOD THIS IS VERY ON THE SPOT OK.

Genre:humor, suggestive

Title: Dishes

Pairing: Mark x black reader

────────────────────────

"NO ARE YOU SERIOUS? OH MY GOD." Mark exclaimed as he tangled his hands through his hair, you giggled seeing a competitive cutie infront of you.

"Guess you're gonna be doing the dishes today baby." You smirked trying to hide your booming laugh.

Mark sucked his teeth looking shamefully at the floor,"You know... why can't we just be civil adults and do the dishes together as a couple and not do 20 rounds of rock,paper, scissors."

You raised an eyebrow as Mark got closer to you wrapping a arm around your torso, "nope, nuh-uh, hell no, you are not going to seduce me just for me to do the dishes while you try to fuck me from behind. IM GONNA BE A CHILD OF GOD TODAY."

Mark chuckled as he brushed his lips against your neck, "no I'm saying, we'll do it together. Meaning you'll wash the dishes and I'll fu-"

"Didn't I just say we ain't doin' that?"

"Pleaseeee just this once I won't even be whiny I swear."

You gave him a emotionless face, "you meana tell me a few weeks ago you were telling me I was crazy for having a quickie with you in the living room but now you Wanna fuck me while I DO THE DISHES?"

"There's a difference, Jungwoo was with us in the living room. Plus we still had sex just not in the living room." Mark defended as he kissed down your neck, you sighed trying to fight his sultry acts.

"..we're in the kitchen...Where we eat."

"We don't eat in the kitchen we eat in our bedroom-"

"We still make food here."

"C'mon just a lil hump, I won't ask for more. I'll take blue balls for today." Mark squeezed you a bit, you huffed as contemplated your options.

"Just one. ONE. UNO. HANA (하 나). NUMBER ONE." You scolded, you honestly liked being hard to get and making mark beg a bit but gave in because you just wanted to see your boy satisfied.

Mark rubbed himself against you as he whined a bit, you felt his hard-on but continued to do the dishes.

"Uhmmm... Mark,Y/n?"

You nearly snapped your neck looking to your side seeing haechan stand right by the kitchen table with a plate in his hand looking traumatized as ever.

"Oh shiiii-.." You trailed off looking down.

"Why are you humping your girl like a horny dog?" Haechan questioned making you bust out laughing but quickly slapping your hand over your mouth to not embarrasse your Boyfriend.

"Uhm— just- put your dish in the sink so she can clean it and get out" Mark demanded.

"No way, I'm watching the Premiere of House of Dragons, y'all should get out." Haechan argued.

Mark huffed as looked at you who was currently and innocently washing the dishes, "Don't laugh at me."

"I told you! And you started it!" You defended as you sprinkled some water on Mark.

He nervously laughed as he started getting red, once he was a horn dog next he's back to his awkward stuttering Shy boy.

What're you gonna do with him?

────────────────────────

[sisitrip]

Zago, The Vulnerable

.GIF by @mickeygifs

Here's the second installment on the Angie/Mickey friendship I never knew was needed. Link to the first part is here and third and final part here.

This was partially born from the scene (S3; E3) where Mickey jealously watches Ian and Ned having drinks at The Fountain. When Mickey confronts them, Ian says "Shit, Mickey. What're you doin' here?" I burned a track in my mind thinking about how Mickey might've responded if Ned hadn't creepily interrupted. For me, I settled on one Mickey response that I would've loved based on the scene below: "M'just showing up, Gallagher."

Warnings: Unbeta'd; length (y'all might need to rein me in); tiny slip into self-harm (so brief and working on it); a growing closeness between friends that is so nice to write 💛🖤

Tagging @energievie @chicanomick @jomilky @ianandmickeygallavich and @creepkinginc because you've been so encouraging. Thank you 😌.

____________________________

Mickey - 17 Years Old

Mickey helps Angie sit on the bed and wrestles with her for the brown bag of Crown Royal. 

“The fuck, Mickey. Gimme my shit,” she complains, when he yanks it away. She’s not quite drunk, but is well on her way and with good reason.

He didn’t show up. Again. 

That dismissive shit had rarely bothered her until him. Somehow, that asshole got her all the way fucked up.

“I’ll give you a fresh one if you don’t chill out,” Mickey says softly, lifting her chin with a gentle finger. “Just the booze or you back on that pill shit?”

She swats at his hand and grabs his wrist, holding on, needing contact.

“Told you. Been done with that shit for almost a year.”

Mickey nods and pats her face. 

“I’ll get water and when I get back, be ready to open that trap and spill.” He gives her cheek a soft pinch.

She squeezes his wrist then lets go. 

“Die horribly,” she says affectionately.

“You first,” Mickey laughs out. He walks away and she miserably yanks at her hair, willing the ache in her chest to go away. 

She’s got to do something or this love shit is going to kill her. She needs to be lost in something other than her thoughts. Lost in someone. Even if it's for the briefest moment, she just wants to stop feeling.

There’s only one thing that helps when she needs to get out of her fucking head. 

Mickey comes back and she locks her eyes on him, on a mission. Yeah, this’ll have to do.

“Ayo, I got some of that expired Tylenol from your bathroom. If you take three you-”

He chokes off as she slides to her knees and starts unbuckling his pants. 

“Angie?” 

He’s frozen, hands stiffly holding a glass of water and the pills. She’s got Mickey where she wants him. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll use two fingers,” she says, determinedly pulling at his zipper. He’s not hard yet, but that never stopped her before. 

She’s reaching into his boxers when the first stream of ice cold water hits the crown of her head. She yelps, flinching. 

“What fuck are you doing?!” she snarls, gasping as the stream continues unabated. “You’re the one who asked me if I wanted to fuck!”

“You know what that's code for. Why are you acting brand new?” Mickey retorts, stepping back from her attempts to punch his dick into hamburger. 

“You done?” he questions softly after she runs out of curses. 

Wet, hurting and frustrated, she grabs her boobs and squeezes them hard, not knowing what else to do. 

“Fuck!” she screams, miserable. She sags onto her side and curls up on the floor.

Mickey joins her, sitting against the bed and avoiding the wet spot on the rug. 

He flicks the empty cup at her, spraying water droplets and laughs when she pinches him.

“Colin didn’t call, huh?” he asks gently after several beats of silence.

“Like I give shit if he calls.” Her watery sigh betrays her bravado. 

“You need to cut him loose, Ang. I keep telling you. You can’t do worse, but you can do better.”

She heaves a wet snort. “You ain’t never lie.” 

They laugh quietly and Mickey’s the first to sober up. 

“You saw him? Ian?” he asks hesitantly. “What’d you think?” 

“Barely saw him. But, you can't miss that hair. You undersold how red it is.”

Mickey shrugs. “Who knew that’d be my type.”

She sits up next to him, pushing her wet hair out of her face. 

“Who knew that a coked out asshole wearing the underwear I bought him could have me so fucking strung out.” They snicker, leaning against each other.

Mickey’s phone rings and he bites his lip, a tell she’s come to recognize. 

“Is that Red?” 

Mickey gives her a stiff middle finger, but doesn’t answer the call. 

She snatches at his phone, grateful for the distraction. 

“Let's tell your little boyfriend how you love cooking.”

Mickey dives to the side protecting his phone from her grabby hands. “I gotta eat don’t I?” He’s wiggling and snorting, holding the phone out of reach.

She slaps a hand at his forearm and digs her knuckles into his ribs. 

“Let me tell him how you describe, in detail, what he wears into the store everyday, and how you keep that security jacket on in ninety-degree weather because he said you look “official and shit.”

“Fuck off, Angie!” Mickey’s red-faced and laughing. “Never telling you shit again.”

In their scuffle, Mickey must have accidentally activated the call and the speakerphone because they both still when a voice speaks hesitantly. 

“Mickey?” 

The reaction in her friend is truly wondrous to behold. He literally uncoils, sagging into a dopey sweetness that makes her smile. He looks lit from within. 

“What is it, Gallagher? Gettin’ my dick wet.”

Angie rolls off Mickey and sits back against the bed. Her friend is also ablaze with idiocy.

Mickey settles next to her, fighting a smile that seems to be completely controlled by his red-haired dick whisperer.

“Linda wants to, uh, to know if you're coming back to the store,” Ian says a touch too casually.

Even she can hear the lie as it trips out of Ian’s mouth.

“I’m on my lunch hour. Tell Linda, it’s a bodega, not a sweatshop. I’ll be back after this nut.” 

She can’t help what she does next because she can feel the hurt wafting through the phone line as Ian responds, sounding resigned and confused. “I’ll tell her, Mick.” 

She slaps the back of Mickey’s head hard and he scrambles to end the call. 

“What the fuck’s your problem?!”

“You, Linda Blair. How fucking evil are you to fuck around with his feelings like that?”

Mickey rubs the back of his head, frowning.

“Sure you’re not projectiling or some shit?” he grumbles. 

“Projecting, Einstein, and maybe! But, that’s besides the point.” She turns to him. “Stop actin’ like we’re fucking and just tell him you like him.”

Mickey looks out the window stubbornly. “Ain’t ready for that.”

“Then let him go.”

“Ain’t ready for that either,” he says softly, digging his phone into his thigh. 

Another tell. Like her, Mickey hurts himself when he feels too much.  They've been working on that. Together.

She pulls his hand away from the spot that’ll have a fresh bruise tomorrow.

“Whatever you decide to do, just try and show him how you feel. Give him something besides this confusing back and forth shit.”

“How am I supposed to do that?” he snarks. “Put his name in my notebook? Make him a mixtape?”

She snorts softly. “I don’t know you idiot. Maybe …,” she looks down at her wet shirt, speaking quietly. “Maybe just show up, you know? Sometimes just showing up is everything.”

Mickey’s looking at her and she can’t look at him. Not yet. Not until she does something about these stupid fucking tears that have been threatening all morning. 

As always, he can feel her distress, so he quickly yanks her wet t-shirt over her head and mushes the wet fabric into her face, helping her hide her tears and her pain. 

“Just show up, huh? Deep thoughts by Angie Zago,” Mickey teases as she pulls her shirt down.  

“And you’re as deep as a puddle," she says lovingly. "Now get the fuck out. I got Mr. Patel coming over.” 

Mickey hops up and extends a hand, helping her stand. 

“Don’t tell me you’re fucking that dry cleaner asshole.”

“Nah. He’s coming for that ointment. The infection down there is almost cleared up.”

Mickey wrinkles his nose, still squeamish about her Amazon sex shop side business. 

“You still getting that shit for him? Tell him to stop fuckin’ without a rubber.”

She shoves his shoulder. “And ruin my best income stream? I order shit for him at least once a month. Fuck that.”

Mickey chuckles. “Bad Bitch Angie. The neighborhood’s very own ‘down low/do dirt’ marketplace.” He reaches out and snaps her bra strap. “You should give me a cut. I started it all.”

She grabs him into a headlock, smushing his face into her wet shirt. 

“You started shit, damn near literally. My fingers still smell like your ass and it’s been a year motherfucker.” 

Mickey wiggles out of her hold and dodges her slap. 

“You should be so lucky, bitch,” he laughs out. “See you, tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Steal me some more tampons.” 

He’s stepping into the hallway when she stops him, forcing herself to do the one thing she'd been dreading for months. 

“Mickey?” He turns back. “If you see him, tell that fuck I ain’t waiting no more.” Her voice is husky, but she gets it out.

Mickey’s face softens into sadness. He tilts his chin, holding his head up, waiting. With effort, she does the same, drawing her shoulders back and raising her head too.

“Good for you,” he says quietly, then leaves after winking at her.  

When he’s gone, she finally lets the tears come. All losses, even if the person you’re mourning is worthless, should be acknowledged.

She changes her bra and t-shirt and by the time she’s done repacking the ointment for Mr. Patel into a Just For Men box, she’s no longer crying.

[hnychn]

KARASUNO’S MANAGER !!

SYPNOSIS — it’s a new year and the karasuno team decides to throw a new years party in the school gym

WARNINGS — tooth rotting fluff <3

AUTHOR’S NOTE — none of this is realistic but shut up and let me live laugh and love with the idea it’s real

⇀ HAPPY NEW YEARS BABESS

⇀ so it all started out when noya and tanaka came up with the brilliant idea to throw a new years party

⇀ and since canonically, everyone in haikyuu are losers, everyone agreed 😀

⇀ of course you invited your boo kenma 😼 and the nekoma team

⇀ and kuroo invited the fukurodani team since bokuto heard about the party somehow

⇀ the party is held in the gym, it's byoc

⇀ "bring your own cups"

⇀ cause y'all broke broke 😭😭✋🏼

⇀ kidding . . . about the cup part, y'all are broke though . . .

⇀ anyways, so the team put you in charge of getting the drinks

⇀ . . . but they never specified non-alcoholic 😼

⇀ so you, being the six foot seven giant you were, got some alcohol

⇀ it was surprisingly easy

⇀ like the guy behind the counter didn't even ask you for an ID or anything and he probably assumed you were 21+ because of your features 🤡

⇀ i mean you do be chiselled by the gods themselves 🤪🥴

⇀ not me simping over you 🤺

⇀ so the party is about to start and you come in with literal bottle of alcohol like fUCKING JACK DANIEL'S AND WHISKEY AND RUM AND ALL THAT SHIT

⇀ and when daichi saw you with all the paper bags filled with bottles of alcohol he just-

⇀ . . . 🧍🏽‍♀️

⇀ "y/n. . ."

⇀ "yes? 🤠"

⇀ "why. . .why do you have alcohol?"

⇀ "you said to get drinks. ."

⇀ "i mEANT PUNCH-"

⇀ all daichi wanted to do was punch you 🏌️🏽‍♀️

⇀ LMAO BUT NOYA AND TANAKA TURNT UP WITH THE ALCOHOL

⇀ they poured that shit into those punch bowls? ya know? the ones in those cliche highschool movies

⇀ they got red solo cups and everything 🔫

⇀ anyways, so people start showing up and daichi panics because no sir, these minors aren't getting drink on his watch, but oops-

⇀ kiyoko locked him in the shortage closet 👁

⇀ "i'll let you out in 20 minutes"

⇀ because babes knew that's all it'll take for everyone to be blackout drunk

⇀ and she was right 💅🏽

⇀ fifteen minutes into the party, noya, tanaka, yamamoto, lev and a bunch of first years are drunk drunk.

⇀ suga, kuroo, asahi, and ennoshita are also drunk but like they're the chill typa drunk y'know?

⇀ they playing a game of uno with normal playing cards 🧍🏽‍♀️

⇀ kenma . . . doesn't want to be there BLESS HIM LMAO-

⇀ he's sitting in the corner, red solo cup in hand because kuroo took his pspspsp and won't give it back, even if he is drunk

⇀ and you- good god

⇀ YOU. ARE. D R U N K.

⇀ i'm talking the embarrassing type of drunk

⇀ you're dancing on one of the volleyball poles like a fucking stripper and bokuto is throwing napkins at you like they're ones please- 🔫

⇀ kenma is just in the corner staring like 🐚🌝 hello yes, officer? imma need animal control here asap.

⇀ LIKE DJFJD WTF IS MY BF DOINGG

⇀ he's embarrassed for you 😔✋🏼

⇀ but in the corner of your eye you see kenma sitting all alone so you go over to him, alcohol nearly spilling over the side of your red solo cup

⇀ "what're you doin all alone here, kitten?"

⇀ kenma crinkles his nose because you smell like alcohol, but he just shrugs

⇀ he says something but you can't hear him over he loud music, so you lean closer but you end up spilling your drink all over your shirt and you just

⇀ "ew it's sticky . . . i guess I'll just take it off"

⇀ SO YOU DO

⇀ IN A CROWDED ROOM

⇀ OF DRUNK POSSIBLY NOT STRAIGHT MEN

⇀ and holy fuck-

⇀ how knew you were so foine 🥴🥴

kenma's eyes widen when you suddenly pull off your shirt, your chest still slightly damp from the drink spilling on you. he could feel heat rushing to his face the longer he stared. kenma wanted to look away, he really did, but it was something about the way you rubbed your hands over your abs and chest to wipe off the moisture and the way you looked down with hooded eyes that had him entranced. he couldn't look away, and by the sight of the other people in the room also staring at you with no shame, they couldn't either.

despite being drunk, you could tell people were staring and it filled you with a sort of confidence you only got in the privacy of your room with kenma. speaking of kenma, he wasn't fairing any better. his head was turned to the side to look away, but his eyes betrayed him and stayed focused on your chest.

you smirked.

kenma gasped as you suddenly leaned forward, your hand slamming onto the wall next to him and the other pushing him by the hip, your cold fingers slithering up his shirt and sending chills up his spine. your breathe was warm next to his ear and kenma's blush intensified.

"see something you like, kitten?"

kenma's breathing began to get heavier the longer you whispered in his ear, his chest and pants tightening. kenma refused to look up, knowing half of the people in the gym were staring, but he would by lying if he said it didn't turn him on more than he already was.

your stopped whispering in kenma's ear and began trailing kisses down his jaw and neck, leaving marks behind. kenma had to bite his bottom lip to stop noises from escaping his mouth, but his restraint was limited due to the small amount of alcohol in his system.

your fingers traveled further up his shirt and caressed his waist, pulling him closer to you. pulling away from his neck, you turned to his lips, sucking and biting on them as if it would be the last time you would be able to. kenma's neck was littered with hickies that, even in the darkness of the gym, were extremely visible.

but before things could go any further, you were ripped away from kenma by a fuming daichi, "first you bring alcohol and get everyone drunk, then you try to fuck your boyfriend in the middle of the gym? i'm gonna kill you, y/n."

⇀ you were put on daichi watch for the rest of the night 😔🔫

⇀ but by the time 11 rolled around, you were a bit sober so i guess that's good

⇀ everyone gathered into he middle of the gym and counted down until midnight

⇀ kiyoko and yachi had hung some of those colour changing lights and gave the room some amazing vibes

⇀ and kenma was standing next to you, your arm slung over his shoulder as the lights hit his face perfectly and outlined every feature of his beautifully

⇀ you smiled down at him

"it's already 2021, huh?"

kenma looked up at you and immediately looked away when he saw that you were already looking at him. even after months of dating and nights spent in each other's embrace, he still got nervous when you looked at him the way you were right now.

eyes so full of love and lips pulled into a satisfied smile.

"yeah. . . i guess. . ."

you laughed and pulled him closer to your side, kenma stumbled a bit and grasped onto the new shirt you put on. it was a spare that you left behind in the clubroom one day.

"c'mon kenma! new year, new possibilities! what are your new years resolutions?"

kenma shrugged, burying his head deeper into your side, "i don't have any."

5 . . .

you smiled, "really?"

you looked back up at the digital clock kiyoko hung up on the wall just for new years, your smile never faltering. kenma loved that about you, your ability to smile no matter what. no matter the circumstances.

4 . . .

"what about you?" kenma asked, a small bubble of guilt building in his chest for not answering how he thought you wanted.

you looked down at him with the same lovesick eyes and satisfied smile, kenma felt his heart stop, "me?"

you looked back up at the clock, "hmm. . ."

3 . . .

"i think. . . " you drew out, a playful smile on your face when kenma pouted at your long answer. he slapped your chest when you laughed at him.

2 . . .

"i think," you tugged kenma in front of you and rested your chin on his head, a lazy smile drawn on your face as everyone else yelled about, excited for the new year.

1 . . .

"i think i have everything i could ever want right here."

HAPPY NEW YEARS!!

kenma gasped as you suddenly turned him around, lifting his face by the chin. everyone around you cheered as the clock hit 12 and it was now January 1, 2021.

kenma's heart pounded when he saw the same old lazy smirk on your face and the same old lovesick look in your eyes; but no matter how many times he's seen it, he would always feel the butterflies fluttering in hit stomach.

"happy new years, kenma." you whispered as you pulled him into a kiss.

what a way to start the new years.

⇀ everything after that was a blur

⇀ the party amping up as a way to start the new years and you were sure even daichi had a cup full of some unholy concoction of alcohol kiyoko made for him

⇀ when you woke up, you were in bed, kenma laying a your side.

⇀ with close on, y'nasties 👁

⇀ your head felt like it was going to explode and your stomach turned in ways it shouldn't

⇀ but you were too lazy to get outta bed

⇀ me 🤡

⇀ so you just pulled kenma closer and went back to sleep

⇀ dreaming of a happy future with the man in your arms

taglist:: @stickystrawberrysyrup @420-uwu @nvthvlyy @kaiwai @goshizaki-jun @thetrash-mammal @dprhvn @bakuhore

a/n :: i'll add the read more thing in the morning, i gotta start getting dressed for the new year party. this was kinda rushed too so sorry if it's a bit jumbled or something

[thorslittlewhore]

Gone Country(Bucky x Reader)

A/N: Hey y’all! I just made this tumblr so yeah... But anyways right now I’m going to be re-uploading my fanfic Gone Country onto here(i will be uploading other ones once I done with this)...I only have the first chapter done but I just have to edit the second chapter and then upload it! Hope y’all have/had a wonderful day:)

Summary: Bucky Barnes, a rancher who lives in Hollow Gap, Montana, wishes that he could just find the one for him but he doesn't think that will ever happen.... That's until y/n l/n, a city girl, moves to Hollow Gap to help out on her grandpas ranch.

Word Count: 918

Gravel was hitting up against the bottom of Bucky's truck as he made his way down to his ranch, Winter Creek. He was just coming back in from Missoula, he had gone on yet another failed date. At this point he thought he was just going to be alone forever.

Bucky had sat by and watched as all his friends fell in love, got married, and then had kids. And if Bucky said he wasn't jealous of any of them he would be lying. Bucky just wanted to find the girl he was meant to be with and do the exact same thing all his friends have done.

But Bucky knew deep inside that it would be a while before it happened- or it would just never happen. After all he lived in Hollow Gap, Montana, a place that was considered to be the middle of nowhere and he was pretty sure no girl would want to move down here with him or make the hour long drive from Missoula just to see him. And he also had his ranch that took up, basically, all of his time—it was a miracle to him that he even found time to go on the date he went on tonight. He just didn't live in place nor did he have the time to find the one

As he pulled into the driveway he saw that Steve's truck was parked by the house, and then he noticed Steve sitting on the front porch step. Bucky parked his truck and got out, he walked over to Steve and said, "Hey punk, what're you doin' here?"

"Nat sent me, she wanted to know how your date went."

"Same as they always go,". Bucky said as he kicked at the dirt with his boot, "I should probably just accept the fact that I'm never gonna find the one."

Steve patted the step next to him, signaling for Bucky to sit down and said, "Not with that attitude, i'm sure you'll find her some day. And Nat also mentioned something about Tom L/N's granddaughter coming up from Boston to help him out with the ranch, Nat said she was most likely single, and your age, maybe you and her will hit it off."

"Maybe...." Bucky said with a sigh, knowing that she probably wouldn't even give him a second glance. "Let's get off that topic, how is little Clara doin,' Stevie and Ryder warmed up to her yet?"

Steve just laughed-- knowing Bucky was trying to change the topic--and said, "Clara has me wrapped around her little finger, she's gonna be a heart breaker, and as for the boys Stevie adores her, but Ryder doesn't like not being the baby anymore."

"He'll warm up eventually, if y'all ever need some help just call me and I'll take em for ice cream or something, if I have time."

"You really need to find a foreman Buck..." Bucky just gave Steve a quick nod. Steve then said "Thanks for the offer pal, might just take you up on it. Alrighty I know we talked for all of three minutes but I gotta get going back to the three little gremlins, See ya later pal, and who knows maybe she's the one," Steve then got up from the porch step, he patted Bucky on the back and then got into his truck and drove away.

Bucky stood there for a second watching the dust fly up in Steve's path, then he decided to do one final check on his cattle while he still had a little bit of sun.

He walked down to the barn, and got out all his tack. Then he went to go get his horse, Sargent, out from the pasture. Sargent, being the biggest people loving horse out of Bucky's three horses, ran right up to the gate--Sargent is a buckskin quarter horse, he’s quite a handsome boy.

"Hey Sarg, ready to finish up the day, I got some sugar cubes for ya when we are done bud." Sargent just nuzzled his head into Bucky's shoulder over the fence, Bucky took that as yes.

He then opened the gate and put on Sargents halter and lead rope. Once the pair got up to barn Bucky hooked him up to the cross ties, then groomed and tacked him up.

Once Sarg was ready, Bucky lead him out by the pasture and got onto Sarg, they went down to the cow pasture and did a quick check, just making sure that no cattle had gotten out and all of the herd looked good. Then Bucky rode fence real fast and everything looked good so Bucky called it a day and rode back up to the barn.

After Bucky was done putting away Sargent(Bucky made sure Sarg got plenty of sugar cubes) he went up to his house. The house felt lonely, like always, but for now Bucky just pushed away that feeling and went straight to his room. He took off his dirty clothes and then hopped into the shower. Once he was done in there he threw on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. Before he got into bed he glanced at the clock and it read 9:33pm. He calculated he would get around seven hours of sleep tonight, which was pretty good to him considering how much sleep he usually got.

He then got into the bed and as soon as his head hit the pillow he was fast a sleep.