#MOB SWEEP PLEASE

[seven-oh-four]

#SNIFFERSWEEP BABY

SNIFFER 2022, FIRST MOB TO GET 1,000,000% OF THE VOTE LET'S GO

RASCAL? MORE LIKE RASC-L

TUFF GOLEM? TOUGH LUCK!

THE ONLY MOB I SEE IS SNIFFER ALL THE WAY!

[volatilemask]

today.....? tome tuesday...... and tomorrow.....? weirdgirl wednesday. life is so beautiful.

[jazzper-drawz]

I HAVE TO JOIN THE PROPAGANDA NOW!!! VOTE MY BOY WE CAN’T LOOSE NOW!!,!,,!!!! WE ARE SO CLOSE,,!!!!!

I can taSTE THE VICTORY!!,,!! SUMMON THE FANDOM FROM TWITTER!! SUMMON THE FANDOM FROM YOUTUBE!!! HELL EVEN PINTEREST!!!!!

Go out there AND MAKE SOME NOISE!!!!

(My hands are shaky today so it’s not the greatest art I know)

[thisisahyperfixationnow]

everybody vote for donatello in the @autismswagsummit or i swear he’ll steal our bones

[jobean12-blog]

At First Sight

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (maybe he's a Mafia/Mob boss, maybe CEO- either way he's too delicious to ignore)

Word Count: 2,248

Summary: You're out to celebrate with friends when something unexpected happens.

Author's Note: We all know I love Mob/CEO Bucky and skirting that mystery line so you can use your imagination here! Honestly, if he approached me like this I'd just be putty in his hands haha 😏thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: flirting, Bucky is pretty forward, fun, drinking and mentions of alcohol but everyone is coherent and able to make clear choices, fingering, semi-public sex, curses

“I’m not sure…?”

You look between your two friends, Sadie, and Nia, and blink several times. “Too much?”

They look at each other then back at you.

“Definitely not!” Sadie squeals.

“And besides,” Nia adds, “the limo’s here. Too late to change!”

The space is dark, loud, and filled with moving bodies. You shove your way up to the bar and shout, “excuse me!” hoping to get the bartender’s attention.

With the music so turned up and so many other people slamming the bar, the bartender doesn’t even look in your direction.

“Heyyyy!” you shout with a slap on the bar.

“I’m not sure he heard you.”

At the sound of the unfamiliar voice, you look up at the man pressed close to you at the crowded bar.

He’s tall. And sexy. And gorgeous. And wearing a smirk that screams trouble…in the best way.

“Yelling won’t work doll,” the man says, motioning to the bartender. “It’s just too damn loud.”

You purse your lips as you try to think of a witty comeback but before you can he continues.

“But lucky for you, he’s my friend so I’ll help you order another round of those shots you seem to love.”

“How do you know what I love to drink?” you start, batting your lashes. “Maybe it’s a Whiskey neat.”

You lift your chin and smile sweetly, waiting for his reply.

“You’ve been ordering the same blue shots all night beautiful.”

Your mouth falls open to respond but nothing comes out.

Has he been watching you all night? Creepy or…amazing?

Instead, you stare and take in his features. Perfection.

The bartender comes over and looks at the man beside you expectantly.

“Three fingers of Whiskey, Steve and whatever the beautiful woman is having. She’s been waiting a bit.”

He turns to you, wearing a lopsided smile. “Will you be having Whiskey too?”

“I think I just might,” you tell your new friend.

“And how many fingers would you like doll?”

He watches you with an innocent expression as he spreads his long fingers out on the bar.

“Did you just…?” you stammer.

“Maybe just start with two,” he says.

A playful smile teases his lips, and you can’t help but stare at them.

“Fine, two fingers,” you say the bartender, “of whiskey…,” and then you give the man beside you a demure smile, “and more shots please.”  

“First time here?” the man asks, his gaze sweeping over you.

“How did you know?”

“I’d remember seeing you angel.”  

Even with his flirty forwardness you can’t seem to find anything that makes you uncomfortable. His eyes are friendly, and he’s standing close but not too close, just enough so you know he wants to be there to talk to you and only you.

You glance back to search for your friends but can’t find them anywhere.

“What are you celebrating tonight?” he asks when your eyes find his again.

“What makes you think I’m here celebrating anything?”

You raise an eyebrow and hold his stare.

“Do you ever just answer a question?” he counters.

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth to stop your smile and fire back with, “do you ever stop asking questions?”

He laughs, the action lighting up his face and making his eyes crinkle flawlessly at the corners. It makes your stomach flutter.

You hold each other’s gaze for a beat before he continues.

“All the dancing and drinks…seems like a good time…a celebration.”

“Well, you’re right. My friend just got an amazing promotion at work.”

He smiles triumphantly and you smile back.

“So, there’s no chance you’ll be leaving here with me tonight.”

The bartender sets your drinks down in front of you just as your new eye candy finishes the sentence and you grab for your glass, downing as much as you can before you start to choke.

With a laugh the man takes a long and slow sip of his Whiskey, watching you. You put your half empty glass down on the bar with a dramatic bang and exhale.

“I…what? No!”

“That’s too bad,” he replies.

“You just met me,” you argue.

“And since the moment you walked in you’ve had my full attention,” he admits.

The shots seem to hit you all at once and you sway on your feet. He steadies you with a gentle but strong hand on your arm.

“Easy doll.”

“Ok…stop being so charming. The smiling and the touching… I like it way too much. It makes me want things…and we’ve only just met.”

“What kinds of things?” he asks, voice smooth like silk and deep.

You swallow hard and he tracks the movement of your throat before his eyes linger on your lips.

You gather up the shots for the girls. “We’re going to do these.”

He nods, slowly, his smile growing.

“So…um. I’ll see you later…?”

You wait, hoping he’ll give you his name.

“James, but you can call me Bucky.”

“Ok then, see you later Bucky.”

“I sure hope so angel.”

You find your friends at a table, catching their breath, and set down the shots.

“I met the hottest guy.”

Both friends pause with the drinks halfway to their mouths.

“What the hell are you doing here then?” Sadie asks.

“Girl’s night, we’re celebrating,” you say. “Duh.”

“Fuck that, go dance with the hot guy!” Nia shouts.

You lift your glass to your lips and shake your head. “No way, I’m here to dance with you all! Let’s go!”

You polish off the shot, wait for them to do the same then hold out your hands to pull them onto the dance floor.

The beat of the music surrounds you and you let go, forgetting routine and responsibility and just enjoying the moment.

Sadie yells something to you about the song that just started but you don’t quite catch it. Just behind her, set in the shadows off the side of the bar stands Bucky.

Your eyes meet and neither of you look away.

He doesn’t seem the least bit surprised to be caught staring at you. Every inch of your skin heats and when he lifts his glass, takes a sip, and smiles, you smile back…and start to move…just for him.

The hem of your dress inches higher as you lift your arms above your head, swaying your body to the rhythm of the music and getting lost in it. Your friends move closer and lean in.

“You’ve attracted an audience,” Sadie chuckles.

She whips her head to the side to point out the group of guys moving closer. You ignore the group and search the shadows for Bucky but he’s nowhere to be seen.

With unexpected disappointment you grab Sadie and tell her you need to use the ladies room, weaving your way though the crowd and off the dance floor. You follow the signs to the second floor, which is essentially a balcony overlooking the rest of the space.

After freshening up you walk out of the door and right into something hard. Bucky grips your biceps lightly, holding you close.

“You ok?” he asks.

You were standing close to him at the bar, but not this close, not close enough to smell his skin and feel the rise and fall of his chest. It makes you heady, but you manage a nod.

“Hi angel,” he smiles.

“Hi.”

“I was enjoying watching you dance.”

“I noticed.”

You hold his gaze, unable to look away. Down at the bar it was hard to tell the color of his eyes, but here, hidden away, even in the low light you can see they’re beautiful. The blue is like the ocean on a sparkling sunny day. Mesmerizing.

“Do you know what watching you does to me?”

You blink, trying your hardest to keep up with his directness.

He reaches down to take your hand, his grip loose and his movements tentative, waiting for you to tell him to stop.

When you don’t he presses it firmly to where he’s hard and aching.

“All this?” you ask in a breathy whisper. “Just from watching me?”

“Come home with me.”

You let out a little giggle.

“No. I can’t.”

“Come to my car then.”

“I’m not leaving this club with you.”

Even as you hear yourself say the words you know they aren’t holding the force you want them to.

He bends and presses a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“But I’m dying to touch you.”

It’s impossible to pretend you don’t want the same thing and you place your palms on his chest and push him backward into the darkness.

“Is that a yes?” he asks as he runs a long finger over the curve of your shoulder.

“You aren’t some psycho are you?”

With a chuckle he moves closer, brushing his lips along your cheek. “You make me feel a bit crazy doll, but no, I’m not.”

You wrap your arms around his neck and tilt your head, whispering against his lips, “something tells me I can trust you.”

He moves willingly, and meets you with a smile, pressing his lips to yours.

“You taste as good as you look angel. What’s your name?”

“My name?” you whisper, so caught up in the feel of him you almost forgot.

“You know my name, so you’ll know what to call me when you’re about to come. It’s only fair I do the same.”

You let out a little gasp and hold onto his shoulders more tightly.

“I…,”

You feel his smile against your mouth before he turns you and presses your front to the edge of the balcony overlooking everything below.

He takes your chin between his fingers to turn your head and steal another kiss, lingering until you whisper your name against his lips.

With a satisfied smile his fingers tease the edge of your dress and then he lifts it, sliding his hands down between your legs to rub along your panties.

“You’re so wet. And all for me angel.”

You moan loudly when he slides a long finger inside you and presses a kiss to the back of your neck.

“You’re so soft,” he murmurs into your ear as he presses the pad of his thumb to your clit.

You turn and look at him. His eyes are wide open and clear. He teases you more, watching your every reaction then turns you to face him and drags you against the wall, bending to kiss you, hard and hungry.

“Someone could come down here,” he reminds you, meeting your eyes, giving you one last out.

You don’t care. He’s too perfect. He feels too good.

When you don’t protest he kneels at your feet and carefully pushes up your dress, hooking his thumbs into your panties to slowly drag them down.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, standing and lifting your leg to spread you open.

Reaching between your bodies, you open his jeans and push them down along with his boxers. You grab for him, rubbing him through your arousal.

“Fuck doll, wait. I need to put this on.”

He reaches behind him and fumbles for the back pocket of his jeans, pulling a condom free.

“You’re big,” you whisper, loving the feel of his warm, silky skin.

His grin is wolfish. “That’s the best thing you could say to me.”

You run your closed hand along the length of him again, letting the tip just bump your clit.

“Fuck, keep that up and I’ll be coming all over your hand.”

His fingers are unsteady as he works to slip the condom on.

“Have you done this before?” you ask, unable to keep your eyes off his cock.

“Have sex with a beautiful woman in a public space?”

He starts to push into you, achingly slowly. “No angel, I’ve never done this before…but with you, I’ll take what I can get.”

His words die away when he’s fully inside you, rubbing against your clit with each stroke and filling you so completely. You grip his shoulders as his thrusts grow faster.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”

He leans back and looks down between your bodies, his eyes squeezing shut for a brief second before he starts to move faster.

When he leans down to kiss you he slows his movements, pulling out almost all the way before sinking back in. The slow pace doesn’t last long, and he hitches your leg higher to go deeper.

You feel your release building in your stomach and it’s only a few seconds more before a cry falls from your parted lips.

“Oh fuck,” he gasps, his hips moving jaggedly and rough before he comes with a deep groan.

He leans heavily against you, pressing his lips to your neck. “You’ve wrecked me angel.”

His hand is gentle when it smooths along your leg, and he pulls out. You straighten your dress as he rolls off the condom.

“That was perfect Bucky,” you hum, meeting him for a kiss.

He nods, dazed. “You’re ok?”

“Better than ok,” you answer. “And I think I’m ready for another dance.”

His lips twitch with a surprised grin and you turn away before he can respond, leaving him standing with his pants still unbuttoned.

A few minutes later you find Sadie and Nia, both ready to head home. And it isn’t until you’re sitting in the quiet of the limo, reliving every second of what happened with Bucky, that you realize you’d left your panties on the floor at his feet.

[grugruel]

Movement

Pairings: mob!bucky x undercover!f!reader

MDNI/NSFW

Masterlist

Summary: Working undercover wasn't what you had expected. Dancing at events was, privately entertaining the boss wasn't. Your story climaxes tonight, leaving Bucky cuffed to a bed and you bent over a windowsill.

Word count: 3.7k

Warnings: pinv sex, rough sex, semi-public sex, voyeurism ish?, choking, edging, creampie, thigh-riding ish, fingering.

AN: Not edited yet! Got a dirty dancing vibe from nowhere, so I ran with it. Yall will notice. Please do comment your thoughts! It really motivates me :)

I look around me, gaze drifting over the crowd. My eyes meeting a particular set, catching him staring. I turn my head away, and all of a sudden. Everything, was for him.

Every move, every sway, every sweep of my arms and rock of my hips. I did to his liking, for his approval.

The music blurred around me, so lost in the moment. . .

A soft purple light shone down upon me, giving everything an intimate glow. Illuminating my body and making my long dark dress sparkle, while casting shadows around me. Bulging and dipping, the candlelit chandelier had the darkness join me in dance. So private, yet so open. The hundreds of people slowly whirling over the dancefloor disappeared from my mind, and in its stead, only he was left. My eyes locked with his as a slim path cleared between us, the bodies of couples molding to eachother incidentally moved out of the way.

I smiled, daring him. Curling my finger, motioning for him to join me. Like a bird of paradise, I moved to impress. I moved with the rhythm of the music, brushing my knuckles over my abdomen, trailing all the way up along my torso, over the tip of my breasts and dip of my neck. My fingers messily burrying themselves in my hair, running along my scalp, hair matching the movement of my body.

Hungry eyes devouvered me, but his was the only ones I cared for. Transfixed, he moved forward, pushing people out of the way. Shouldering them to the side as he walked toward the stage, toward me. Theres was no time for curtesy, no time for clients or associates stopping to shake his hand. He waved them away, eyes never leaving me.

This had been our routine since he hired me a few months back, and unfortunately. I'd lie if I said I didn't like it, it had become personal. Even though I told myself it was just for the mission.

But this was not a game I'd let him win. Stepping off of the stage, I dove into the masses. Blending in, and dissapearing.

I, along with some other girls were the entertainment for the night. A ball James hosted every year, in attendance was only the richest and dirtiest.

Static crackled on my ear, 'Back-up on standby. .' The voice spoke as I walked toward the bar.

I was about to answer, when somebody grabbed me–

A yelp esacped me as a hand enveloped my bicep. Gripping it tightly, immidietly pulling me backward. I didnt have to look to know who it was. He'd caught me, but I couldn't avoid those beautiful blues. My eyes meet with the familiarity, they smile, and I mimic.

'Just say the word. . .' The voice came stressed, their eyes on the unfolding scene.

But I carefully raised my shoulder to my ear, playing it off as a scratch, and turned the device off. In the same moment, the music swithces from classical to something more intimate, and the room heats. Couples move from swaying together to moving against eachother, grinding smoothly to the body of the other.

With a smile, his hand slides from my bicep into my own and he pulls me back onto the grand, marbled dance floor. In a flurry of bodies, he yanks me against him. I collide with his chest and throw my arms around his shoulders in the motion. We match our movements to the others as his thigh slides between my legs, supporting me as I grind onto him. The slit in my dress exposing my thinly clothed core to his thick thigh, I bite my lip at the feeling.

Our acts disguised as nothing more than intimate dance.

The music thumps lowly, the vibrations caressing my skin deliciously as he ruts his hips against my own. My hands intertwine behind his neck and our faces come an inch apart, our heavy breaths symphonising with eachother. 'Missed you. . .' He murmurs against me.

I hum, biting my lip as a smile tugs on the corner of my mouth, 'Prove it to me, James.' And a particularly good grind treats me well, making a whimper leave me.

He grunts, capturing my bottom lip in a bite, gently tugging on it.Then speaks through clenched teeth, 'It'd be my pleasure doll.' And grabs my hand again, pulling me into the massive halls of his manor.

A few minuters later, after following dimly lit, large wood paneled walls, we arrive at his room. Like so may times before, his guards stop by the door, standing by.

Kissing we stumbled inside, the guards didnt even bat an eye, so used to this by now. The music from the ballroom dampened as the door slammed shut behind us and Buckys dark, big bedroom welcomed us. His hand glide from my hand to my waist, holding me as he backed up toward the bed. Falling back, he circled his arms around my back. Pulling me closer, he rested his chin against my abdomen, never taking his eyes from mine, big and wanting. He kissed me up my stumache to center of my chest, I sighed happily as my knuckles caressed his cheek. Eventually coming to rest in his hair, combing through it gently. Appreciatively, he hummed, kissing me more. I leaned down, met his lips– and pushed him backward.

With a swift thud and the sound of springing feathers, he hit the mattress, his body shifting back and up against the headboard. Prowling, I crawled on top of him. Stradeling his lap, I unbuttoned his blazer and shirt while sitting on his hard member. I took his hands in mine and led them to the headboard. Meanwhile, I leaned into him, my lips brushing over his. A millisecond before they met, my hands slid to his wrists and–

Doubble "Click"s sounded out.

Opening his eyes, 'Tell me this is a part of it.' He whispered against my lips, the slightest growl to the voice. I shook my head, and sat back on his lap before he lunged for me. But as predicted- he didnt get far. Hands locked in cuffs around two bars of his headboard. I laughed, 'I could lie, but it wouldn't be the first time.' And rocked my hips against his clothed member, humming from the friction his pants and my dress created. He hissed, eyes boring into mine, filled with a burning hatred as his breathing turned heavy, burdened with a long-standing lust.

Sighing mournfully, 'We could continue this thing of ours you know, still have some fun.' I hummed, taking his chin between my fingers to look at him. But he jerked his face from my grup, hands straining against the cuffs, rattling them, then lunged forward again.

I pulled back, 'Ooh-' and mocked, pretence fear lining my body language as I crawled backward and slipped to my feet at the foot of the bed. 'I can still take care of that for ya'.' I nodded toward his erection, a huge hill bulging in his pants.

He huffed and looked away.

I cocked an eyebrow and turned around, walking toward his desk, 'You underestimate me James, I've had you fooled for a long time.'

Chuckling, he answered 'Fooled? I've had you on your knees for just as long, doll.' He worked the cuffs, testing the strength of the bars.

Annoyance bubbled up inside me, 'And what about all the times you've begged me for a taste? Its laughable.'

'Yeah?' He laughed, 'And you begging me to fuck you isnt?'

My cheeks burned hot, needles of irritation pricking my skin. When I got an idea, something to. . . Give back, or get back. Whichever. 'We both knew this wouldnt last.' I said curtly, walking around his desk, riffling through it.

He nodded slowly, 'Didn't think you'd have the stumache to turn me in, still think you don't.'

I huffed, 'Yeah?' Pulling out a particular set of documents, the ones I needed to put him in his place, and held them up for him to see.

'Yeah.' His eyes narrowed on the papers.

I browsed through it, then met his eyes with a smirk, 'Fascinating.' I jerked my eyebrows upward in challenge.

'You wouldnt.'

'I would.' And nudged my earpiece again, 'I got them.'

He shook his head, dissapointment ruining his beautiful features. It stung, It really did. I didn't want to hurt him. Fuck, I really did care for him.

Static, 'Copy, extraction team will meet you at the edge of the property.' At that I turned it off again, everything wasn't for them to hear.

I walked up to him, his gaze followed my every step. Although mad, he didnt want to forget me. Furiously, he studied my curves, intent on not forgetting.

'How come you've not called your guards?' I asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed next to him, tracing a finger along his abs, observing the way his skin grew goosebumps.

'I wouldnt stoop that low.' He jabbed, the pain in my chest might as well have come from the tip of a knife, his knife.

I cleared my throat, 'Well. . . As I said–' my hand slipped downward, '–I could do you a kindness, and take care of this for you.' I whispered, cupping his bulge, 'Maybe set a start to my making up to you.'

'Fuck.' He groaned, bucking into my touch. Closing his eyes, he shook his head again.

'No?' I retracted my hand, my dress strap slipping as I did so. Revealing a tad more of my chest, his eyes opened, and stared. I quirked an eyebrow, and he met my eyes. Pleading. Silently, we understood eachother. We felt what we could not say because of who we were.

I smiled, working my shoulder to let the strap slip further. Revealing my breast, nipple turning hard from the cool air. He sighed, eyes turning soft with adoration. I stood and backed up, and he leaned forward to follow me. But cuffs yanked him back, resteaining him. A glint of annoyance sparked in his admiring eyes. At this, I smiled again. Wicked this time. I walked over to the desk, jumping up on it with a hop and crossing my legs.

'How often will you think back on our memories together?' I ask coyly, a finger trailing up my leg through the slit of my dress.

'More than I do now.' He answered, voice gruff. Pain and lust adorning it.

His response pleased me deeply, I uncrossed my legs and spread them wider. Wide enough to catch a glimpse of my lingerie. At the sight, he yanked the cuffs, desperation taking hold of him. His breathing turning heavy, his eyes on the prize. My fingers slide under the skirt of my dress, folding it over my other leg. Hands moving toward my core. He grunts, spurring me on. The sight of him making my core ache, cuffed, animalistic and depraved. For a second, I toyed with the thought of releasing him. Closing my eyes, I imagined the way he would make my body ache in all the ways it craved. I hummed as a finger reached my panties, sliding up and down my clothed slit. All the while Bucky huffed and puffed, only contributing to my illusions. His member was probably straining uncomfortably against his pants by now. I bit my lip, a finger slipping under the fabric, into my core. Instantly drenched in my juices, I heard a whimper, and opened my eyes.

On the bed infront of me, he'd managed to get onto his knees, arms extended behind him, held by the cuffs, keeping him from falling face first. His mouth agape, panting desperatley as he watched me.

I pushed another finger inside, then another. He bit his lip to muffle another whimper, licking them furiously.

Thrusting gently, I curled them into my special spot. Moaning, as his whimpers spurred me on. Pushing me over the edge in a few short moments, I hummed. Trying to stay relatively quiet.

'Gonna beg me for a taste again?' I asked, and he nodded enthusiastically, 'I could sit on your face for you.' And at that, his eyes filled with hope, but my wicked smile returned, letting him know he would't get that lucky.

I stood, dress falling back into place, breast still exposed. Sautering over to him, then got on my kneeson the bed infront of him. Holding my fingers out to him, slick with my arousal. Greedily, he took them into his mouth, lapping and sucking at every ounce of my juice, hungrily moaning all the while. I pulled my fingers back, and he whimpered at the loss. Seding pulses through my body, his eyes roamed over me as I kneeled infront of him, gaze landing on my breast, 'Can I? Please?' He asked, eyebrows furrowing. I nodded, and in a second his mouth closed around my breast, sucking it into his mouth. Humming, I sighed, enjoying it while it lasted. With one hand holding the folder, I ran the other through his hair, scratching his scalp, 'Such a good boy.' I whispered, and he moaned a hot breath against me, 'The great James Barnes, falling apart by a woman's–' I began, but suddenly, he bit my nipple, making me yelp and pull back.

'Youre not just any woman.' He said, a devilish quirk to his lips.

I sighed, but the lip of my corner tugged as I turned around. Pulling my strap up, I made my way toward the fogged up window and opened it. Cool, damp air flooded inside, chilling me pleasantly as I wathched the view overlooking the gardens.

Before I could make my escape, I turned around to look at him one last time. However, not liking what I was met with.

Pulling himself back, he wrapped his hands around the bars and yanked–

To my horror, one of the two came loose with a worrying clang, making him fall forward.

I'd teased him to much for my own good. 'James, lets just-' I began, and his eyes snapped to mine, then he began yanking on the other. Hunger melting together with anger in his features.

A chill ran down my spine as I threw one leg over the windowsill in a hurried motion, then the sound of a second clang rang out.

Terror grabbed hold of me as I threw my other leg over the sill and jumped–

Bit his hands grabbed my waist, lifting me back inside and pulling me to his chest. The warmth against my back contrasting the cool of my front, horror and excitement washed over me, anticipation leading.

One arm squeezed me as the other slid downward, then he leveled his head with mine, his nose nuzzling my temple, and lips gracing my cheekbone as he spoke, 'How about we make a new memory?' He breathed, I could hear the smile shaping his lips. The hand headed downward slipped through the slit of my dress and cupped my cunt, making a pained moan escape me.

He kissed my cheekbone and bit my earlobe, tugging on it slightly. Then put pressure on my mound with a harsh yank, pulling me even closer against him. A mix of a hiss and a whimper leave my lips as my ass tucks snuggly into his crotch, his hard member pressing up against me. His mouth slips to my neck, 'Your fault.' voice muffled by skin, 'You fix it.'

A shattered hum in agreement came from my lips as he began rubbing his hand up and down in rough movements, the warmth from the friction was enough to send pulses of heat through every nerve in my body. He walked us forward as his fingers coverd every inch of my cunt, teasing my core, digits sliding between my slits, and palm rubbing into my clit, his hand getting more and more slick by the second. As if locked in dance, our hips move together, matching rythms. I grind against his hand as he ruts his crotch against my ass, the very hard member recieving long anticipated friction.

We collpase as he slips to his knees, pulling me down with him.

Suddenly, two of his fingers slip inside of me, setting a quick thrusting pace. He sinks his teeth into my neck, biting and sucking, and a scream threaten me as the coil tightens in the pit of my stumache. His other hand move to my back and bends me over the windowsill.

I rest my forearms against the hard wood for support, and just as the blinding pleasure is about to unfold, his fingers retreat. Pulling out of me with a slick sound, I release a painful groan as my walls ache and clench around nothing. 'Fuck you.' I hiss, shutting my watering eyes tightly against the pain of his absence.

I heard movement behind me, then feel his hands pull my dress straps down, making my dress fall to the floor. His touch leaves me again, then I hear a zipper, Thats right.' He said, pulling my panties to the side, 'Fuck me.' And he rams his member into me. All air expells out of my body, my breath lost somewhere to the cool summer night. My fingers curl around the sill, gripling it tightly as the stinging, filling sensation settles in my bones.

He hums and leans over my back as he gathers my hair in one hand, and his mouth levels with my ear, 'You wont be walking out of here with those papers doll, In fact, I doubt you'll be walking at all.' He chuckles, and lays his cheek against mine, looking out through the window. 'So tell those men of yours that they'll have to carry you once the show is over.' And nods toward the edge of his property before leaning back.

I follow his gaze, and a slight movement catches my eye.

The back-up. . . No doubt watching the scene unfold.

But before I got to much time to ponder, his left hand grabbed my right hip, and his other hand gathered a fistful of my hair.

Then, he pulls. Yanking me upward so that my arms stretch, and my hands support me against the sill instead. My entire, naked body on full display to the outside. Asshole.

He begins thrusting, gruesome, hard thrusts. The hand fisting my hair let's go, and circles around my torso instead, folding over my chest, and grabbing the breast furthest away to knead and squeeze. Covering me up in the process.

Apparently, he didnt want them to see it all. Some was just for him.

He rests his forehead against my shoulder, planting sweet, soft kisses against the blade of it, 'Sorry.' He whispers, all the while his thrusts rock my body into oblivion. 'Needed to teach them a lesson.' He says between panting.

The coil began tightening once again, and I smile. Feeling this good, I honestly couldnt care less. Even so, my team had seen me naked before. We shower together, share rooms even, and they know im in it to win it. My only wish was that they'd have the decency to look away, but knowing they're men, It'd be too high a wish.

Nothing could be heard but the muffled music, slapping skin, laboring vocal cords, and the nature at night. Bird song and nocturnal insects filled the calm night, ever so rudely disturbed by our moaning, and– static?

Oh. . .

'Agent, I repeat– "Do you need extraction?"' The voice was uncertain, uncomfortable even.

Fuck, it must've clicked on when he yanked me by the hair. Embaressment filled me, they'd heard much more than they should've. But even so, irritation took the lead. Annoyed that they were interrupting me, I rolled my eyes, 'I'm fine, I'll be right there.' I stuttered out, doing my best to hide my moans. The slapping however, could not be hindered. I reached for my earpiece, the stuttering of his hips against my body gave me great difficulty. But managed to grab it despite being violently rocked back and forth, and threw it far into the gardens.

'Finally alone?' He breathed against me, warming my shoulder, temporarily keeping the goosebumps at bay.

'Define alone.' I scoffed, biting back a whimper. The pressure in me building to a climax, the sounds of nature and our loving dulled. Replaced by a ringing as my vision grows spotty and a faint feeling comes over me. 'Close, so– So, close.' I manage, my words stumbling out of me. He hums, moaning in my ear as his thrusts frenzies. The hand kneading my breast moves upward, grabbing my throat, squeezing lightly as we tumble into our orgasm. Collapsing onto the windowsill.

'Fuck. . .' He breathes, pulling out off me with a wet plop. His seed seaping out off my entrance now that nothing stood in its way. He rolled off of me and leaned against the sill, elbow supporting him as he observed me intently.

I pull my dress back on, then cross my arms on the sill, resting my chin upon them, 'What now?'

'You'll see me again.'

I huff, 'Yeah? How?'

He shrugs, 'Tell them we have a deal, or that I think were involved. Tell them your cover wasn't broken.'

'Think that'd work?' I ask, unconvinced. However, wishing desperately it would.

'It might, if it doesn't. You come right back here and start over with me. I'll protect you.'

I nod, 'Go to bed, so I at least can pretend to slip out.' And smile, believing him.

Not protesting, he kisses my cheek. 'Good night.' He whisperes.

I stay for a few more minutes, then grab my heels and jump out of the window. Closing it behind me. Silently, in the bright blue night, I walk barefoot in dew covered grass.

Eventually met by familiar voices, 'Not a word I say.' Interrupting them before they can comment, 'He thinks I want him.' I raise my brows and chuckle, the team snickers.

'Sure sounded like it.' One of them jokes, and they all abrupt into laughter.

I roll my eyes, 'Ha, ha. Very funny. Dont pretend you werent watching us half hard, palming yourself.' I bite back. Causing "oooohs" to abrupt, and the guy going pale.

At least they seem to believe it.

I gift myself a hopeful smile, I'll be seeing him again. One way or another.

[biteofcherry]

To find the light, we must first touch the darkness

Please also check out @bluepinkangel​’s amazing hot moodboard for this universe 🖤

dark!mafia Steve Rogers x female reader

summary: When you’re unexpectedly appointed to run a health center, you foresee many struggles along the way, but not one in the form of a merciless mob boss. Steve Rogers’ core aim is to own and he won’t take no for an answer. To any of his demands.

warnings: dark!Steve Rogers (really, he’s not a softie here, he dark); manipulation; blackmail; threats; power imbalance; specific warnings will be added for each chapter separately

warnings for this chapter: none

Be patient, please, this first part is only an introduction and setting the scene.

Chapter 1. Storm on the horizon

~ * ~

A stream of dark cars, which slowly pulled up to the curb, distorted the innocent image of pristine sidewalk with raised flower bed pots soaked in early summer sunlight, immediately drawing Felix’s attention from the plants he’s been watering in his office. 

The center had a large parking lot on the other side of the property, where clients could leave their cars without interrupting the usual street flow at the front side. No one ever pulled up to the very front; beside that one evening a few years ago when the official opening ceremony turned into a gala with VIPs coming in their fancy limousines. 

Felix narrowed his eyes, watching through the window as three big, black cars stopped right in front of the steps leading to the building. Expensive models. They looked reinforced, too, meaning they were probably more expensive than a line of limousines. 

Two men stepped out of the first car, both of them doing a subtle sweep around before approaching the middle car. They stood on both sides of the backdoor, watchful of anything changing in their surroundings. 

A man slipped out of the front passenger’s side - big and bulky, with dark hair pulled into a bun, and dark sunglasses covering his eyes. He was wearing all black, from the heavy military boots to leather jacket and leather gloves. 

He walked around the car to the backseat guarded by two other men and pulled the door open. 

When yet another man stepped out, slowly stretching to his full height, Felix’s heart dropped to his stomach. 

That man he recognized. 

That man should not be anywhere near here. 

The watering-can almost fell out of Felix’s hand, his fingers spasming in a tremble of panic. Water spilled on the windowsill as he dropped it down with a thud, before running out of his office. 

The center has been quiet for the past few days, only slowly getting back to life after its short period of mourning. At this early time of day there weren’t many people inside, most patients coming in a bit later. 

Felix rushed down the corridor, shaken with the unexpected arrival and not knowing how to proceed. 

He should be doing something, he thought. Warn the right people. Having things not go smoothly was a novelty with which he had trouble dealing, especially in those circumstances. 

Not so long ago he boasted about having things under control, gaining even more confidence when you turned out to be kind and inexperienced in the nuances of the city’s complex socio-political wires. He could work with you without a hitch, Felix convinced himself - and others - of that fact. 

Three black cars pulling up in the early morning hours wrecked that simple plan.

Almost at your door, Felix ran straight into Natalie, your assistant. She was smaller than him, a filigree silhouette with a sharp bob and a murderous look. With a calendar in one hand and a traveling mug with hot coffee in the other, Natalie glared at him.  

“Felix, what the hell?” It was too early in the morning, for her at least, to be dealing with any crap. 

“Rogers is here! S-Steve Rogers is here!” 

He was breathless, air in his lungs burning not from the pace with which he ran, but the fear of that man about to enter the place.

Natalie frowned, looking above Felix’s shoulder at the still quiet and empty hall. Rogers’ name was recognized by many people in the city, even the lucky ones who had absolutely no connection to the dark tentacles of his criminal empire. 

Though, some whispers suggested that somehow everyone was tied to him. Some people just didn’t know it, living in sweet oblivion. 

“Well, then,” she took a sip of her coffee, “shouldn’t you be greeting him at the door and asking what exactly is he here for?”

“He’s not here for me, you know that.” Felix nearly shrunk in on himself, scared of the prospect of facing Rogers. 

He definitely didn’t want to be on his radar, even as someone simply pointing directions. They said Rogers never forgot a face. Oh no, it was better to be completely out of sight. Hide in a closet and wait for the storm to pass. 

“Of course.” Natalie rolled her eyes. “It’s obvious he’s here for the new boss.”

That moment the door to your office opened and you stepped out, almost bumping into Natalie - your newly acquired, or inherited, assistant. 

“I was actually about to go look for you.” You smiled at her.

Natalie, though she could be sour like a lemon, provided you a sense of security in the wicked waters you were treading through as of a few days. 

“I went through the outlines for the group classes last night.” You informed her.

 “I’d like to schedule a meeting with the therapists and construction manager. It would be better if they explained to him which changes in the project they need to be done.”

“I’ll arrange it.” She nodded, balancing the mug in the crook of her elbow and flipping the calendar open. 

You’ve met some well organized people in your life, but Natalie was like the highest functioning computer in a tiny human flesh. She included everything in the schedules she made, with traffic jam and bathroom breaks. 

Why she kept a paper calendar as well as a digital one in her phone, you had no idea. As long as it worked for her, and she worked for you, you weren’t going to judge her methods.

“I’ll reschedule today’s meeting with the lawyers, too.” Natalie added casually.

“Isn’t that in-” you checked your watch- “half an hour? Why do we need to reschedule?”

“Another meeting came up.” Natalie answered with a shrug, her gaze flicking to the end of the corridor from where heavy footsteps of someone approaching were gaining in volume. “A rather important one.”

“With whom?” You frowned. 

Beside the lawyers, or your grandmother, there wasn’t anyone you expected to be calling you on a whim demanding immediate attention. No one that you were aware of, at least. 

“Steve Rogers.” Felix squeaked.

“Who is that?” Your frown remained, only deepened. 

You didn’t recognize that name from any legal papers in which you were swarmed for the past couple of days. 

Felix’s eyes grew big, even Natalie seemed surprised that you didn’t immediately react at the sound of his name. 

Working at the center since its beginnings, they were probably used to all the people from elites and various organizations with whom Howard Stark used to work while running this place. 

You were barely familiar with some of the institutions. You knew you had to broaden your knowledge now, but it couldn’t be done in a week. You doubted it could be done in a year.

You were simply a neuropsychologist who spent two days every week for the past year helping Howard Stark after his stroke. A pawn on the full board of other specialists, who all tended to Howard. 

And yet, it was you with whom he grew a certain bond, maybe fondness, that led you to the overbearing mess of a situation. 

When Howard passed a few weeks ago, your mourning over a friendly patient was disrupted by an unexpected summoning. To the will reading. 

Among all of his wealth and companies, which were all inherited by his son Tony and his family (the sweetest woman you ever met, Pepper, and their daughter), the little chunk - a drop in the ocean really - was signed over to you.

The health and therapy center which Howard founded after his first stroke. Back then he bounced back to health quickly, but his road to recovery taught him how little help there is for people with neurological damages and impairments of any kind. 

It was a very narrow field. Getting appointments with specialists was hard, and mostly not covered by the insurance companies.

So Howard founded this center - in a huge building that once upon a time was a palace, then a private school, then a library before that one got a new, modern building in the heart of the city. 

You visited the place with him a few times, using very well equipped rooms and strolling through the vast inner garden. During one of your visits, you briefly mentioned how the place could also open for kids and teens after appropriate adjustments. 

Was it then that Howard decided to leave the center to you after his death? 

Was a single sentence enough to make such a drastic change in his will?

Then again, Howard was eccentric. Tony was too, from what you learned. He also wasn’t at all annoyed that his father included you in his will. 

Since the will reading, your life flipped upside down. You had no idea how to run a place like that, there was so much to learn. But it also was like a spark of courage to reach for dreams you never hoped to achieve. With the right people at your side, you could maintain the place and even expand it in the right direction.

For now, however, you were a green little sprout in a huge field of unknown. And the name Steve Rogers rang no bells.

“He’s-” Natalie paused, searching for the right word- “influential.”

He was more. 

He had power and control. 

Not only over the city’s streets, which he was ready to drown in blood if needed. Over hundreds of rats running in the wheel of the underworld’s crime machine, as well over people in pristine places and on high stools in the capitol. 

And he conquered it in brutal ways; paved his road with bodies and fear.

It was safe to assume that if someone had any influence - be it political, or in the media - Rogers had that person on a string. No, not a string, a heavy chain with immediate suffering at the end if they stepped out of line.

One could assume Stark knew Rogers in some capacity, though the man not once stepped anywhere near the center. Whether he had Howard in his pocket, or if they had a different relation, they were never seen together here. 

“I’ve been meeting influential people for the past week.” You scoffed. “Each of them had a scheduled meeting. Mr Rogers can schedule one too.” 

You wanted to maintain a good relationship with donors and patrons, but you weren’t going to bend your back for any of them. People needed to learn boundaries. Rich people especially. 

“It would be better-” Natalie began.

A male voice, deep and cool as a mountain brook, interrupted her:

“I do have a scheduled meeting.”

His voice carried over through the corridor easily, without him having to shout. In a few, long strides he was standing right behind Felix. Another man kept a step behind him. 

He walked with the prowess of someone who owned the place (and anyone in it). For a split of a second you felt like taking a step back and bowing your head. Then you remembered that he did not, in fact, own the place. 

Nor did he own you.

Rogers was tall, Felix’s head barely reaching above his shoulder. With golden blond hair, shorter at the sides and slightly longer strands coiffed back. You saw a glimpse of your own stunned reflection in his dark aviators before he took them off, revealing stunningly blue eyes. 

Broad shoulders seemed to stretch the black leather of his jacket and when he put his hands on his hips his frame appeared to double in size. 

His gaze briefly slid from you to Natalie, who was now taut like a string, quickly returning to you with a mocking glimmer in his eyes.

“Don’t I, Miss Stendhal?” He addressed Natalie. Somehow, it sounded as if he knew her, and it wasn’t a good thing at all.  

“Yes.” She replied immediately, astonishingly calm and stoic. “Mr Rogers had scheduled this meeting a week ago, but I made a mistake writing it in the calendar. It’s my fault there was a mishap. I’m sorry.” 

You turned to stare at her, disbelieving every single word. 

You may have known her for less than two weeks, but you already learned she makes no mistakes of that kind. Her organization skills were better than the army’s. 

Natalie’s face betrayed nothing. She was as poised as every day, admitting to the supposed mistake with cool professionalism. 

“That’s okay. I’m sure you corrected the issue.” Rogers smiled. 

It was charming at first glance. Reminded you of a chivalrous sweetheart from the romances you occasionally liked to read. But there was an edge to it, like a shark’s grin a second before making you his dinner. 

“Of course.” Natalie tilted her chin, as if offended that someone dared to doubt her efficiency. “Like I said, I’ve rescheduled the lawyers to clear this hour for you, Mr Rogers.”

Then she took two graceful steps to the side, clearing the entrance to your office. She sent a glare Felix’s way - who was nearly shaking like a leaf having Rogers at his back. He shuffled quickly to her side, not once glancing at Rogers or his bodyguard. 

Natalie gave him her coffee mug, so he could focus his trembling hands on something. His thoughts scattering, Felix mindlessly lifted the mug to his lips and took a nervous sip. Natalie would undoubtedly tear his head off for it in different circumstances. 

The moment his path was clear, Rogers took a single step forward. It was enough to find himself toe to toe with you. 

A waft of spicy, woody scent of his cologne swirled around you; a teasing tendril as much part of him with its dangerous allure. He towered over you and the expanse of his chest seemed to cut off your vision of anything else around. 

The fact you had to crane your neck to look up at him seemed to amuse him. Or please him. 

Perhaps both.

Whatever kind of benefactor he was, you suspected you wouldn't like him a single bit. There were no idle threats made, not even any pompous comments a spoiled prick with money could make. 

Yet he made the hair on your nape stand, your pulse quickening as adrenaline poured into your system at the instinct’s suggestion that this was a dangerous predator. 

You weren’t sure if you’d fight or flight, though usually you chose the former. 

Unknown to you yet, he wouldn’t allow you either.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

In Abstract 1

A sequel no one asked for. First Series: Portrait of a Dangerous Man

Warnings: noncon/rape, some violence, blood, alluded murder (for now?), grief, confusing, criminal allusions, some untagged extreme events.

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

Synopsis: You adjust to life with Clark, thought the past won't seem to let you go.

Character: mob!Clark Kent

Note: I don't know where this came from.

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :) I appreciate your comments and enthusiasm! Reblogs help and are like candy, so please, feed me.

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

A speck of red. A speck of red in a sea of blue. From the observer's eye, one would not notice. But the creator, the artist, the start error is obvious. No inadvertent, but entirely deliberate. A reminder of what it cost you.

You close your eyes and the fleck of blood sears in your mind. Like the site of your boyfriend gasping his last breaths. Ex, now. For a while. It feels like yesterday yet no time at all.

You shiver and hug yourself through the white cashmere. The sweater offers little warmth in the cold house. The glass doors look out onto the white lawn, a fresh dusting of snow trims the covered pool and blankets the landscape. It would be beautiful to any who did not know the sinister secrets of this place. The crimes witnessed by these walls alone.

You turn away from the portrait hung above the gaping fireplace. Even the crackling flames cannot warm you. There is no comfort in this house or the man who resides there. A warden, a maniac, a murderer.

You near the glass doors, eyes drawn to how the snow gathers in corners. The thin sheet of frost that cakes the panes and the fog of your breath as you stand close. The world outside is obscured by your own existence.

Silence. Stillness. Distance. Isolation. The vast grayness of your small world trapped behind a transparent wall. You touch the handle, feeling the cold metal, gripping it tight. A sudden urge to run out and dive into the heaps.

"Dinner tonight?" Clark's voice claps like thunder through the lull.

You gasp and recoil from the door. You turn to him, hugging yourself as much out of fright as the temperature. You step away from the door and your yearning for escape.

"Dinner," you repeat, your hollow voice echoing off the high ceilings.

"Yes, your mother is coming to town? We'll get her from the airport and take her to Elliston's?"

"Are you asking or telling?" You mutter as you drop your arms, tucking your hands up the cuffs.

You sweep away, crossing to the archway that opens into the spacious kitchen. You go to the counter and flip up the lid of the coffee machine. You focus on the rack of pods. It's habit more than anything, often you let your cup go cold, basking in the scent but too numb to taste it.

He follows. You sense him. Like you always do. Always hovering. Always watching.

"Don't be like this. You've been looking forward to her visit."

You grumble as you pick out the cinnamon cookie pod and shove it in the top. You shrug. Not really. You only ever play the part he wants. Move your brush to his whim, streak the paint by his word, lay on your back as he gets what he wants.

"And I have been too. I can't wait to meet your family. All of them."

Your chest winds tight. You can't tell if it's a threat or genuine. He is always hard to decipher. If you had ever been able to see through him, you wouldn't be standing there, trapped in his house, in his grip.

Five months. Five months in your cell. Five months with Marcus' blood on your soul. 

"I'll get a room ready," you put a mug under the spout and hit the brew button. 

He lurks closer. You stare and wait for the drip to begin. He puts his hands on your shoulders, the fabric turning course beneath the weight of his grasp.

"Nina's already working on it," he growls into your crown, "don't act so hard done by…"

"I'm not," the trickle spits out and hits the porcelain sharply.

"I give your more than he ever–"

You tear away from him, sliding along the counter as you spin to face him. He clucks and tilts his head, slowly pivoting towards you. The anger cordons in his cheek.

"I told you…"

He scoffs. "You're right, he was nothing. Not worth talking about. Sweetheart, it was always going to be me."

You clamp your lips shut as your eyes sting. He doesn't wake up every day in horror, he doesn't sink into sleep like a stone in mud, he doesn’t know what it is to live in black and white when the world used to be painted in a million colours.

"I'll confirm what time she gets in."

He sighs and crosses his arms. You look down at the white sweater and unroll the crumpled hem. You didn't wear cashmere before, no silk, no satin. Just cotton and tweed. Now you wear what he tells you to.

"Find something to wear for dinner," he demands, "and after."

He crosses the pristine tile and you look at him in the face, eyes glossy and pathetic. He kisses your forehead as his hand comes up to your chin, his thumb stroking your lips. He inhales your scent and lets out a growl.

"Wear the diamonds," he demands.

He lets you go and leaves you there. You watch after him as he stalks off, checking the time on his wristband. He clears his throat as he turns out of your sight. Your vision blurs to a muddy blur.

The coffee machine dings and brings you back. As much as you love your mother, how do you explain this to her? Lies are easier on the phone, but face to face, the truth is clear to see.

🎨

Your mother pulls you into a hug, her suitcase forgotten at her side. It's been almost a year since you last saw her. You and Marcus made a rare trip down for her birthday. As solitary as she prefers her life, she cherishes your rare company.

"Tweety bird, it's been so long," she hugs you, swaying you with her. She releases tou and holds you at arm's length, "don't you look like a dead mouse?"

"Ha, yeah, I was up late… painting," you smile thinly.

"Never change," she chides as you sense a shadow approach. Clark grabs the handle of her suitcase and rolls it towards him as he puts his hand on your back. "Oh, who… is this?"

"Clark," you try not to show your frustration. Your mother's always been a touch flightly, "I told you about him."

"Ah, yes, oh, that Marcus," she tuts and shakes her head, "couldn't believe it when you said he ran off but then again, I wasn't unhappy."

"Mom," you sniff.

"Well? He always left his dirty socks on the couch."

You bite the inside of your cheek. You'd rather not talk about him. You fear she'll see right through your story. Clark takes his hand off your back.

"Nice to meet you–" he begins.

"Don't be silly," she pulls him into a hug, an impressive feat as she is rail thin, "you must be the one saving my gal from heartbreak."

"Um, sure," he snorts, "you're Janine?"

"That's the one," she pulls back and fixes her wild waves, "I'm afraid she hasn't given me more than your name."

"She's been busy. Commissions and all," Clark puts on that perfect act. The gentleman with all the charm. The one you fell for. "We hope you're not too tired, I suggested a reservation for dinner…"

"Oh, yes, please, I'm starving. That airplane food is better avoided," she trills, "besides just ask Tweety, I'm mot much of a sleeper."

You shake your head in confirmation and she grins wider. Clark rolls her bag around and waves his arm ahead of him, "ladies."

"Oo, finally got yourself a gentleman."

"Mhmm," you hum as you start forward, "something like that."

🎨

You watch the wine flow into the glass, filling the belly with a rich burgundy colour. Your mother looks around emphatically as Clark gives a curt nod of dismissal to the server. You're left to peruse the menu.

“Wow, this is a fancy place,” your mom comments as she opens the leather folio containing the menu, “where was it Marc would take us? Denny’s?”

You give her a look. It’s strange, you’re mother was never one to turn her nose up at simplicity but there were some very specific sticking points when it came to your boyfriend. Ex. Or maybe money really does corrupt all.

The wine is stringent. You don’t like it. You take a hefty swig and set the stem down heavily. Clark gives you a look. Right, he has his curated image, you have to fit into that.

“So mom, how was your flight?”

“Ah, it’s fine. But I was sat next to this skinny fellow. So nervous. Jittered the whole way. I had to close the window because it made him sick. So I took a nap.”

“I hope you don’t mind shacking up with us. I thought of a hotel but we have more than enough room,” Clark suggests, “after a long day, I’m sure you’d like to just relax.”

“With us? You live together?” Your mom raises her brows.

“You knew this. Remember?”

“No, you said you moved out of your apartment, I don’t remember a where or with who. This is moving fast,” she says, “definitely not a rebound then?”

You cringe. Clark is a better actor than you. He laughs. Or maybe it is really that funny. Laughing at your dead ex and the ensuing predicament. You take another gulp of the disgusting wine.

“Well, the salmon looks interesting, “but I do prefer halibut…” she mulls over the listings, “oh, prawns. Tweety, don’t you remember when you drank all my vodka and puked up seafood all night?”

“Mom,” you swallow.

“Tweety, that’s an interesting nickname,” Clark says, opening the door for further humiliation.

“Ah, yes, well, funny story.”

“Not really,” you intone.

Your mother ignores you as she closes her menu and rests it on the table in front of her. “Her aunt used to give her Tweety Bird everything. Pajamas, stuffies, notebooks… she hates Tweety Bird. Always has but she was too nice to tell my sister so she had this little collection. I bet it’d be worth a bit now. Vintage and all that.”

“Oh, Tweety,” Clark echoes, “interesting. Cute.”

“Yellow did always suit her.”

“Anything suits her, doesn’t it?” He puts his hand over yours, “I tell her all the time. She makes paint stains look incredible. You wouldn’t believe it, at the end of the day she walks out of the studio looking like, uh, what’s that artist that does the splashes?”

“Pollock,” you answer dully.”

“She was always obsessed with men with too much time and not enough talent,” your mother remarks, “art, I’m just happy she isn’t still working at the coffee shop.”

“That was like six years ago,” you retort.

“Still, you have a degree, you should use it.”

“And she does,” Clark assures, “she’s wonderful at what she does.”

“Aw,” your mother almost fawns, “you’re such a sweetheart. Where did she find you and where do I get one?”

You barely restrain from rolling your eyes. Clark basks in the praise. You empty your glass and feel the slosh in your mind. It might be a bit too much but the wine makes the nights go quicker.

You decide on a salad. You’re not hungry. Your appetite is scant at best, food is a necessity, not a joy. Like much of your life now. It makes you miss those numbers you thought were so dire. The easy life of putting numbers in boxes and putting frozen lasagna in the oven.

The server returns and you turn your attention to his convenient arrival. You need the distraction. He nods to your empty glass and you see how Clark takes notice as well.

“Did you require more, mademoiselle?” He offers.

“One will do until we have our entrees,” Clark insists, “no good drinking on an empty stomach.”

You smile and take the stout glass of water from beside the stemmed glass, “thank you. He’s right.”

“Do we know what we’re having?” The server asks.

Clark defers to your mother with a gesture. She orders first. Halibut with the seasonal vegetables. Clark has his usual filet mignon, and you get the cobb salad. You hand over your menu and sit back, twiddling your fingers in your lap.

“Salad,” your mother comments, “when she was a teen, I couldn’t pry the onion rings out of her hands. Now look at her. It’s catching up, isn’t it?”

“Nothing wrong with being mindful,” Clark comments as he brushes his fingertips along his thick beard. He’s let it grow out, his hair too, the curls spiraling past his ears. “It’ll save room for dessert, they have a delicious creme brule.”

“Mmm, amazing–” your mother’s voice catches and she looks past you.

You don’t react right away as another serve sneaks up on you. Clark reaches behind him with one hand, covertly as if trying not to give himself away, and brings it forward as you peek up at the woman all in black. She giddily grins and backs up.

Clark takes a breath and pushes back his chair as he rises. He turns and kneels as the server hovers nearby, hands clutched together. Several other tables hush and servers look up from their work. You feel time halt as your ears ring.

Clark presents a red velvet box as your mouth falls open. For those strangers all around, those who don’t know about you or him, it must look like shock, even glee. But it's thrumming, crashing terror. No. No. Your eyes pinpoint on the large diamonds as he reveals it, three rings of smaller ones around the large.

You look up over his head then over at your mother. She dabs her eyes and covers her mouth in disbelief. You wobble as you turn back to Clark. His voice rumbles in your ears but you can’t make out the words. You blink. And blink. And blink. Gaping like a dead fish.

“...marry me?...”

His question hangs before you. You could keel over and shrivel up. You could stand up and flee. Run until you can’t stop. You close your eyes and see the blood spurting from Marcus’ chest. The image of your mother’s face flits across your mind, replacing his. You won’t let him hurt her too.

“Yes.”

The voice is not your own. It can’t possibly be because you can’t feel it on your tongue but it tickles in your ears. Clark snatches your hand and forces the diamond on, standing as he tugs you up and pulls you into an embrace. He tilts your head and kisses you. The fairy tale he writes for the onlookers is nothing more than a cautionary tale.

[dontmeantobepoliticalbut]

Bernie Sanders has hit back fiercely at Benjamin Netanyahu over the Israeli prime minister’s claim that US universities were being overrun by antisemitism on a scale comparable to the rise of Nazism in Germany.

In a video posted on X, the progressive senator from Vermont – who is Jewish – accused Netanyahu of “insult[ing] the intelligence of the American people” by using antisemitism to distract attention from the policies of his “extremist and racist government” in the military offensive in Gaza.

“No Mr Netanyahu, it is not antisemitic or pro-Hamas to point out that, in a little over six months, your extremist government has killed over 34,000 Palestinians and wounded more than 78,000, 70% of whom are women and children,” Sanders said.

The two-and-a-half minute video listed a catalogue of further consequences of the war in the Palestinian coastal territory, including the destruction of infrastructure, hospitals, universities and schools, along with the killing of more than 400 health workers.

Sanders, who sponsored an unsuccessful Senate bill in January to make US aid to Israel conditional on its observance of human rights and international law, said Netanyahu’s government had unreasonably blocked humanitarian aid from reaching Gaza, causing “thousands of children [to] face malnutrition and famine”.

In a blistering conclusion, he said: “Mr Netanyahu, antisemitism is a vile and disgusting form of bigotry that has done unspeakable harm to many millions of people. But please, do not insult the intelligence of the American people by attempting to distract us from the immoral and illegal policies of your extremist and racist government. … It is not antisemitic to hold you accountable for your actions.”

Sanders’ comments were a riposte to a video posted on social media by Netanyahu in which he waded in to protests sweeping American university campuses and claimed not enough was being done to combat a “horrific” rise in antisemitism.

“Antisemitic mobs have taken over leading universities,” Netanyahu said. “They call for the annihilation of Israel. They attack Jewish students. They attack Jewish faculty. This is reminiscent of what happened in German universities in the 1930s. It has to be stopped. It has to be condemned and condemned unequivocally, but that’s not what happened. The response of several university presidents was shameful. Now fortunately, state, federal and local officials, many of them, have responded differently. But there has to be more.”

Netanyahu’s comments came against the backdrop of police deployments to break up pro-Palestinian protests at Columbia University and numerous other US campuses. In some universities, faculty members have been arrested, including the chair of the philosophy department and a professor of English and Indigenous studies at Emory University in Atlanta.

Jewish students have reported feeling threatened by the protests and heated atmosphere that followed Hamas’s attack on Israel on 7 October, resulting in the deaths of about 1,200 Israelis and the kidnapping of more than 200 others.

Videos posted on social media have depicted anti-Israel protesters shouting “go back to Poland” and “go back to Belarus”, apparently at Jewish students. A congressional hearing earlier in April into a reported upsurge of antisemitism at Columbia heard allegations that Jewish students had been subjected to taunts of “F the Jews”.

Last October’s attack triggered an overwhelming and continuing Israeli military response that has so far killed more than 34,000 Palestinians – according to the Hamas-run health ministry in Gaza – and led to a burgeoning humanitarian disaster, accompanied by accusations that Israel is committing “genocide”.

In his video, Netanyahu said Israel was being “falsely accused” of genocide and called it part of an “antisemitic surge”.

“Israel tries to defend itself against genocidal terrorists who hide behind civilians,” he said. “Yet it is Israel that is falsely accused of genocide. Israel that is falsely accused of starvation and sundry war crimes. It’s all one big libel. But that’s not new. We’ve seen in history that antisemitic attacks were always preceded by vilification and slander.”

The Joe Biden White House, while resisting pressure to condition or limit weapon supplies to Israel, has voiced frustration over its resistance to allowing more humanitarian aid freely into Gaza and roundly criticised the recent strikes that killed seven workers from celebrity chef Jose Andres’s World Central Kitchen charity.

Protests on campuses across the US continued on Saturday, with some protesting student bodies and universities locked in a standoff that saw demonstrators vowing to keep their movements going at the same time as college authorities moved to close down the encampments.

Police in riot gear cleared protest tents on the campus of Northeastern University in Boston, while students shouted and jeered at them, the Associated Press reported. The university said the protest had been “infiltrated by professional organisers” with no connection to the institution, while some demonstrators had used antisemitic slurs.

The picture of campus antisemitism run amok was lent further credence by Lawrence Summers, a former Harvard president and ex-US treasury secretary, who accused authorities at his former university of failing to act decisively against protesters occupying Harvard Yard.

“This is the predictable culmination of the Harvard Corporation’s failure to effectively address issues of prejudice and breakdowns of order on our campus,” he posted on X. “There can be no question that Harvard is practicing an ongoing double standard on discrimination between racism, misogyny and antisemitism.”

His comments provoked a sharp response from critics of Israel. “Your efforts to portray student demonstrators challenging Israel’s genocidal actions as ‘antisemitic’ are cheap & disingenuous,” wrote Sarah Leah Whitson, executive director of Democracy for the Arab World Now (DAWN). “These students should be commended for their courage & compassion, risking suspension & smears (like yours), to fight the most heinous crimes underway in Gaza.”

[personne-reblogs]

AUTISTIC SWEEP

The shouts of the crowd are fading into white noise. 

The curtains are closing. 

The lights are dimming. 

The air still feels filled with static, though. 

This is a fight Donatello had known he couldn’t win, logically. The competition had been all fun and games, but this challenger was another story. No amount of support or hype could make up for such a gap; the bone deep certainty didn’t leave room for hard feelings. 

Struggling to catch his breath, battle shell against the wall, Donatello looks up from where he’s been getting some rest - not passed out rest, mind you. More like a beauty nap.

He lets out a genuine chuckle. 

Shigeo Kageyama is simply standing there, as he has been for most of the fight. 

“Sweet Marie Curie,” he puffs, keeping his voice level. The roar of the crowd hasn’t entirely died down, but he knows he is heard. “You don’t even have a scratch.”

The one they call Mob is giving him a stare. He still seems a little out of it. 

“You fought well,” he states calmly, and Donnie giggles. 

“Oh, please. I’ve been losing tournaments at home for as long as I can remember. You don’t need to feel sorry for me.”

At that, Mob flashes a grin. “I’m not sorry,” he says bluntly, coming over in lazy steps. “But it hasn’t been easy, either.”

He sits down, legs stretched out in front of him, and Donnie can now see that his breathing is a little heavy. He feels himself get cocky. 

“Well, I wasn’t about to just let you win. If I had to go down, might as well give ‘em a show, right?”

Mob sends him a sideway glance. “You really are all about dramatics.”

“What can I say?” Donnie sighs theatrically, proving his point. “This whole competition is about being swag. I could hardly disappoint.” 

“I don’t think you could," his opponent utters. “You’re very expressive.”

Donnie raises a perfectly drawn eyebrow. This is something he hasn’t often been told. He looks over to Mob, and the tension in the boy’s shoulders makes him hum in thought. 

“I don’t know who’s next, but you are going to crush them,” he provides. When Mob gives him a nonplussed glance, he goes on. “And even if you don’t, it’s still the last one. How good does that sound?”

“... it has been getting a bit much, to be honest.”

“Yeah, this is wild,” Donnie agrees. “Anyway, what are you gonna do with your trophy once you get it?”

Mob’s smile is a little shy, but he seems happy with the distraction. “I don’t know, actually. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten one. What would you do?”

“Well, you see, there was this one time I won the Lair Games…”

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

In the next room, a very proud sensei and three worried brothers are getting impatient. 

The student and the sibling don’t seem to care at the moment. 

The crowd is gone. 

The curtains are closed. 

The lights are off. 

For now, making small talk with a former rival is just enough.

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

EDIT: there is now a sequel!

YOOO IT'S BEEN SUCH A WILD RIDE

Disclaimer: I have never read/watched mp100 and I deeply apologize for making him probably very ooc. Just wanted to celebrate this beast of a match in my own way, which is wishing I could draw and deciding to heave words on a doc instead lol

CONGRATS ON MOB!! The final match between mp100 and undertale is gonna be soooo funny but I think Mob's gonna win this thing like it's nothing tbh (he has my vote at least)

@autismswagsummit thank you for reblogging all that Donnie propaganda, I genuinely think he never would've made it this far without the signal boost!

All my thanks to the Rise fandom for these past few days! You guys have made such powerful content and there's been so much hype I'm shocked. SHOCKED I TELL YOU

[navybrat817]

Lay Me Down

Pairing: Vampire Mob!Bucky Barnes x Gifted!Female Reader Summary: You look to the past and future on your last night as a human. Word Count: Over 3.6k Warnings: Implied explicit sexual content, swearing, possessive behavior, slight fluff, slight angst, mentions of violence, blood, and death, some world building (is that a warning?), Bucky Barnes (he’s a warning, okay?). A/N: @buckysdollforlife suggested vampire mob!Bucky to me after sharing a photo. With the encouragement of @jobean12-blog and @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky , I ran with it and created THIS! Thanks to @dreamlessinparis and @sgt-seabass for listening and spitballing, along with @sweeterthanthis who also provided me with a delicious prompt near the end (we'll see it in the next part). Beta read by the beautiful @whisperlullaby (thank YOU as well!), but any and all mistakes are my own. Dividers by @firefly-graphics and moodboard and banner by yours truly. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Please reblog or comment as it means the world!

Staring out the window at the city lights, you wondered how many were blissfully unaware of those who roamed in the shadows. They should consider themselves lucky. Peace existed between humans and supernatural creatures, but for a price. Clans and packs around the world required payment to keep the peace. Tomorrow, the Barnes clan will come to collect. 

The leader, James, affectionately nicknamed Bucky, didn’t ask for money or power. He had more than enough to survive long after most would leave this world. There was only one thing he demanded to continue protecting the eastern territory: you.

While clans and packs flourished, there had to be balance. Humanity and light needed to exist. Your father came from a powerful line with their own set of gifts and he often acted as a mediator between the families. 

He expected that someone would eventually lay claim to you, as much as he tried to shield you from his associates.

Special in your own way thanks to your blood.

"Be thankful it's the Barnes family."

You did consider yourself somewhat lucky. Your mom explained becoming a vampire was an honor and you would still be you at your core after the ceremony. While the marriage appeared to be transactional with Bucky gaining the use of your gifts, your husband-to-be did love you. 

You would know if he didn't.

"Your family will still thrive while you're in my care."

"And I'll be bound to you forever, James."

"Since we're in love and have an eternity awaiting us, I think it's time you call me Bucky."

A girl could do worse than Bucky Barnes.

You closed the curtain after a minute. Between the guards outside of your door and across the street keeping an eye on the building, you knew that you were safe for the night. Your phone got your attention as you crossed the room, recognizing the ringtone. "Hey, Bucky."

"You should be asleep, darling."

His face shimmered in your mind as the rich timbre of his voice filled your ears. Glacier-blue eyes framed by long lashes. Sharp cheekbones and a jaw peppered with stubble to match his lush, dark brown hair. He trimmed it recently, but it was still long enough to sweep back. 

Masculine. Attractive. Beautiful. 

Everything most would expect from a vampire. 

"Then why did you call me?" you asked, sitting on the bed. 

He chuckled. "Because I hoped you'd be awake. You rushed off after the rehearsal and I wanted to check on you. I think everyone was a bit worried."

You sighed, letting your mental walls down long enough for your family to sense that you were okay. You hadn't meant to leave so abruptly, but you couldn't stay. The rehearsal reminded you that you'd no longer be human after tonight. Instead, your body would no longer age while your loved ones would grow old and pass on. 

Your parents. Your little brother. In a way, your wedding would be the beginning of letting them go.

Peace always comes with a price. 

"I'm fine. I didn't mean to worry any of you. I'll apologize to my family tomorrow."

Your dad insisted, no matter what, that you ate breakfast as a family. It would be your last meal with them. You would have to appreciate every bite and flavor of your favorite foods.

"Are you having second thoughts?" Bucky asked.

"No," you whispered. You wouldn't do that to him or your family. "Just wondering if you'll get sick of me after a century or if it'll only take a decade."

"I won't get sick of you. Ever."

He spoke the truth. 

"Forever is a long time," you said, wiping an unexpected tear from the corner of your eye. 

"It is. Is it selfish that I don't want to spend it alone?"

"No. I think it's only natural that you want someone to share it with after everything," you said. 

Bucky had been through enough horrors to last a lifetime. Being the last of his bloodline after the slaughter of his family, he managed to rebuild his clan from dust and rise up in the ranks. It wasn't enough, as those in power often found. He craved companionship to chase the demons away. 

A mate. 

"Are you having second thoughts?" you asked. "You could have chosen Dolores as your bride or someone from another clan."

Some vampires had multiple partners, but Bucky wasn't one of them. His love didn't waver or wander. He devoted himself to you and would continue to do so in marriage.

"I don't want Dolores or another bride," he told you, not hiding the slight anger in his voice that you dared suggest that he would want anyone besides you. 

"I just know some aren't happy that you chose a human as your mate."

You weren't naive. Just because Bucky planned to turn you didn't mean all of the pure blood clans liked the idea of a human becoming one of them. Or that the Rogers clan offered to protect your dad's territory, too. In their eyes, you were weak. Even with your gifts. 

No one would dare make an attempt on your life on your wedding day at the risk of starting a war, but that didn't mean someone wouldn't try later. That was only the vampires. The wolves were a different story. 

Loving Bucky is easy, but that didn't mean the road ahead would always be smooth. 

"You and I are happy. That's what matters. I will keep you safe," he said, leaving no room to argue.

"I know you will. Turning me will make me stronger, too, so we'll keep each other safe. Remember that," you reminded him.

"Like you'd let me forget," he said fondly. "I saw your protective streak the moment we met and I knew I wanted to share forever with you. Do you remember that day?"

"I do. You planned to kill my dad."

You remembered that day well. 

You stood outside your father’s office door once you pushed past the guards, ignoring their warnings that he was in an important meeting. They knew better than to argue with you and didn’t sense the danger lurking feet away. They should have. If your dad wasn’t careful, this conversation would be his last. You couldn’t let that happen.

"It's out of respect for you that I came here alone today, but you're trying my patience," a deep voice spoke to your father. 

You shook your head, telling yourself not to let the hypnotic tone distract you. 

"I have no information for you, James. I'm sorry."

You gasped. There wasn't a soul who didn't know who James Barnes was. Though he was a close associate of your father, he never laid eyes on you. Your dad didn't let any of his associates see you. 

"Alexander Pierce was killed after meeting with you and you received a large portion of his shares. And then you don't show when we call an emergency council session. The same session where an assassin tried to take Steve and I out with wooden bullets."

Steve Rogers, best friend to James. Another powerful vampire and name most feared. He was kind to your father from what you heard and a man of honor. 

"Alexander wasn't a good man and I didn't want to do business with him, but I didn't kill him or have him killed. His money means nothing to me. And I had nothing to do with the attack on you or Steve. Why would I do such a thing?” 

“My men haven't found evidence against anyone else. And in all the time I've known you, you haven't missed a meeting. Ever."

It was your fault he missed the meeting. 

"Your clan has been generous to my businesses for years," your dad reminded him. "Believe me when I say I’d have nothing to gain and everything to lose by going against you and Steve."

“I want to believe you, I do, but I have to take action. You understand."

You stiffened before you yanked the door open and rushed inside. “Don’t you dare touch him.”

“Where the hell are the guards?" your dad asked, his eyes wide as he stood up from his desk chair. "You shouldn't be here. Get out. Now!"

He was never afraid.

The man across from him slowly rose to his feet. With his tall, broad build, he could’ve been mistaken for a wolf. Even with his back toward you, you sensed his power. You shivered when he turned his head toward you, his eyes the coldest you had ever seen. 

How could someone carry death in a stare?

“You must be the daughter.”

The dark, melodic voice threatened to bring you to your knees. You had spoken to vampires before, but none had ever affected you like this. “I am. And you must be James Barnes. Your reputation precedes you."

His gaze swept over you as you did the same to him. His elegant black suit looked tailored to perfection. Not a single hair was out of place. You had to admit he was one of the most beautiful men you had ever seen. Vampires had no right to be so pretty. 

And this vampire wanted you.

“I am. And I can see why your father refused to bring you to meetings or let us meet. The photos I've seen of you are beautiful, but they don't do you any justice.”

Blood rushed to your cheeks. Men said whatever they could to get in your pants, but this man believed you were a vision of beauty. You couldn’t let that distract you.

“I’m the reason he missed the meeting.”

"What are you doing?" your dad asked in your mind. "We agreed not to say anything."

"It's the only way."

You didn’t see James move as you blinked, refusing to let him intimidate you when he stood in front of you and gripped your chin with a cold hand. “You smell good.”

“James, please," your dad begged, holding his hand out as the cabinet across the room flew open. He kept a range of weapons to use against various creatures if necessary. "Don't hurt my daughter."

“It’s okay, dad. He won't,” you said, which was enough to make your dad lower his hand before he could summon a weapon.

"You sure about that?" James asked.

"If you wanted to hurt me, you would've done that already," you said as your eyes locked with his. "And if you do, you won't get the answers you're looking for."

"I'm listening," he said, brushing a finger over your neck. 

“My dad didn't put a hit out on anyone. I had a gut feeling something bad was going to happen the day of the meeting. Really bad. I begged him to stay home," you explained. 

"You're psychic?” he guessed as he loosened his grip. “I’m told your entire family has gifts.”

It was no secret that your father and mother possessed psychic abilities, like their ancestors had for many generations. Vampires had a tough time compelling you unlike regular humans. It made your bloodline special. A blessing or a curse depending on who you spoke to. 

"Not exactly. More like claircognizant. I can't see the future, but I just know things without any tangible evidence."

"That's convenient," James said.

"I can also sense feelings, like if someone is lying or has bad intentions. My instincts aren't wrong. They never have been,” you explained, nodding to your dad. “You had every intention of killing him before I walked in because you thought he betrayed you and your friend. He didn’t. Listen to my heart beat if you think I’m lying.”

The steady rhythm told him you were telling the truth.

"If you can sense my intentions, what do you think I want to do to you?"

"Everything," you whispered. "And you know my dad didn't do anything. You're just looking for someone to take your rage out on."

James raised an eyebrow, seemingly impressed. “I’m sorry I suspected your father. He's a good man, but I've been burned in the past by people I thought were allies. You’ll have to understand that trust isn’t easy for me," he explained as he ran his thumb along your lower lip, not caring that your dad was watching. You almost sucked the digit into your mouth. "So you just knew he shouldn't go to the meeting."

"I did."

James hummed, sparing your dad a glance. "If these abilities of hers are that good, why have I not heard anything about them until now?"

"Because she's my daughter," he said, stepping around the desk when the vampire turned his attention back to you. "She isn't yours to use."

"We'll see about that." The flash of fangs when James smiled didn't frighten you. "What else can you do?"

"Have you heard of personal illusion?"

"Tell me more, darling."

"I was only going to kill your father if he set me up. I happen to like him," Bucky reminded you, making you blink the memory away. He wouldn't have been able to let a hit on him go unpunished. Your dad would've done the same. "Did you realize the danger you put yourself in by revealing to me what you could do?"

"Oh, I didn't tell you? I got a lecture about it later," you said, picturing Bucky smiling and shaking his head on the other end of the line. "But, thankfully, my dad didn't hold a grudge against you and I trusted you."

"Even when I suggested you sit in on my next deal to sniff out the rat? You still weren't suspicious of me?"

"Even then," you smiled. "I knew you needed answers, but you also wanted me around because I intrigued you."

"You still do."

Your dad didn't like the idea at first. As a telekinetic with limited telepathic ability, he admitted his gifts likely wouldn't find the culprit for Bucky. Not if he wanted it done quickly. You had a much better chance.

"Keep my daughter safe."

"You have my word."

Bucky instructed you to stay close to him, which meant he had you on his lap the moment he took a seat. A portion of the men wanted to fuck you, assuming you were a whore when Bucky didn't introduce you by name, and their intentions slightly overwhelmed you as they leered. Not that it took much of a push. They saw what you wanted them to see.

Steve Rogers was the only other one there who knew who you really were. 

"Stroke their egos, darling. They like that."

You stayed strong and played dumb, the way you were told to. Laughed at a joke here and stroked Bucky's hair there. You wondered if you played the part too well when you wiggled your hips in the vampire's lap, but you couldn't help your attraction to him.

Especially since he was a heartbeat away from taking you on the table. 

"Don't start what you can't finish," he warned you against your neck. "Business first."

You knew the moment Bucky brought up Alexander's death and the unsuccessful assassination of him and Steve that the leader of the Rumlow clan, Brock, was to blame. It would be discovered later that he double crossed Pierce and set up the hit in order to claim more territories. He was furious that the attempt failed, but cleaned up his tracks enough to go undetected by the others. Even Bucky hadn't known.

Brock would have taken you for the night and drained you dry if he had the chance. 

When you excused yourself, unable to hold the illusion of yourself you created for much longer, you winked and smiled playfully at the men. As you passed Brock's chair, you bent down and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Bucky locked eyes with you as you pulled the door shut behind you. 

He dubbed it the "Kiss of Death". 

Because anyone who fucked with him wasn't going to leave in one piece. 

"That was the first night we made love," Bucky said, his voice moving along your skin as if he were there. 

You pressed your thighs together, but it didn't give you any relief. His voice alone puts you on the edge of bliss. "Would you call it 'making love'?"

"I fucked you and I made love to you."

You waited in Bucky's suite for hours after the meeting, which gave you a chance to familiarize yourself with your surroundings. It was devoid of anything personal, a strange mix of luxury and comfort. The only thing that gave away who the place belonged to was the family crest above the fireplace.

A beautiful, lonely room. 

You passed the time reading on the chaise lounge before the double doors flew open. Bucky's eyes glowed an unnatural blue as he walked in, his hair disarrayed and clothes covered in blood. Brock's blood. You felt the battle within him to claim you as his own or let you go on your way. You owed him no loyalty, yet you helped him. 

And you asked for nothing in return.

"Leave or I won't stop myself."

You stood up and faced him, wordlessly baring your neck. He wouldn't claim you without speaking to your parents, but the beast inside him raged. You were willing to satisfy him for the night.

It was only the beginning. 

"Never tasted anything as delicious as you. I nearly lost control."

"I bet you say that to all the girls," you teased, knowing full well he dismissed any blood mistresses he had after he met you. 

"Only to the girl I love," he whispered. 

You touched your neck, knowing by heart where he bit you the first time. Buried deep inside your wet walls, he sank his fangs into your neck and took enough blood to satisfy his craving. Every cell in your body hummed with pleasure as he drank and left you dizzy and aching when he finished. 

"Can you feel how much I love you?" 

"I can," you whispered. 

You felt it in every glance, touch, kiss. Each whispered word against your ears, lips, and skin. He showered affection upon every inch of you until no place was left untouched. 

His love for you only grew when he asked for your hand in marriage after a few months. 

Once he spoke with your father and assured the protection of your family and territory, he agreed. Your little brother actually hugged Bucky when he heard the news and asked him to always be good to you. You may be his big sister, but he still felt the need to protect you. Bucky promised he would always take care of you. 

"You love me and my blood was so good, you put a ring on it," you teased. 

Bucky burst out laughing, the sound bringing a smile to your face. Hardly anyone made him laugh. "Yes, darling, you're just that good."

You held your hand up to look at the ring on your finger. The large, teardrop ruby flashed in the faint light. He chose it because it reminded him of blood and the promise you made to him.

The tiniest shackle to bind people together, but it wasn't heavy or a burden.

"And if I'm that good, I'll have you knocked up during our honeymoon."

"Bucky!" you smiled in spite of yourself, knowing your parents secretly wanted grandchildren. 

"What? With our bloodlines, our child might be stronger than both of us."

"Not might. Our child will be stronger than us if we have one," you said. 

Another reason why someone would want you dead or taken away from Bucky. 

"You said we'd keep each other safe. We'll protect our child, too."

"Why don't we concentrate on finding Steve a mate first and then kids?" you suggested.

"We can do both."

"I thought I needed to sleep," you smiled at his stubbornness.

"I'm giving you something to think about so you have good dreams. A beautiful wedding, blissful honeymoon, and bright future," he said. 

You knew you'd dream of him tonight. 

"Thank you, Bucky. I think I can sleep now."

"Good. Rest, my love. You need it."

You shivered at the underlying promise as you hung up. He was right. You needed to rest. If you let your thoughts consume you, you wouldn't get any sleep. Bucky didn't need a grouchy bride. 

Your phone dinged before you could set it down, seeing a message from the devil himself. 

"If you're reading this, you aren't sleeping. Bad girl."

You laughed as you typed back to him. "You did that on purpose."

"I may have. Since I have your attention…"

Oh, the three dots. This'll be good. 

"Tomorrow, on our wedding day, I'm going to recite my vows twice."

Your brows furrowed as you saw him typing more. Why would he recite them twice? To make the words sink in?

"Once at the altar. Once again in the bedroom."

Oh.

"With my tongue."

OH. 

"On your pussy."

Fuck.

"One letter at a time."

Fuck. Oh, fuck. No. I need to sleep. I don't need that image in my mind.

"You'll know in your soul that you're truly mine."

You tried to think of a coherent or witty response, but only one thing came to mind. 

"I love you, Bucky Barnes."

You set your phone down before you could see if he typed a response back. If he could make your knees weak, you'd do the same to him. Nothing made him weaker than your love. 

It also made him stronger.

Touching the empty spot beside you, you wished Bucky was there. Maybe he would surprise you and sneak in. If only to kiss your forehead and remind you that you were in this together. Because after tomorrow, there was no going back. You would belong to James Buchanan Barnes.

Forever.

We'll see our new couple again in future fic Down to Sleep. We may also get an alpha for another reader. Love and thanks! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ KoFi

[604to647]

Safest with You (Ch. 9 - The Dam Breaks)

6K / Modern AU Retired Mob Enforcer!Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Summary: Din finally comes upstairs and <see above gif>.

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please; for serious, this is the first chapter in the "main" series that is explicit.) Porn with feelings, but it’s still 93.2% porn: unprotected PiV sex (discussed), multiple orgasms, oral (m and f receiving), fingering, they sort of... "make love"? Sorry for the ick but let's call a spade a spade, kissing, dirty talk, a wee bit of daddy kink, dipping their toes into a light degradation kink, tons of petnames as usual (baby, pretty bird, sweet girl, sweetheart, etc.)

A/N: I'm sorry for this gif. I'm sorry for all of it.

Two other thoughts: First, I said somewhere else that I think writing smut takes practice, and I still consider myself to be in the practice stage - I hope it's enjoyable, but I feel like I have room for improvement. Second, totally understand if you've been reading this series for the fluff and maybe this isn't your bag (thus far, the smut has been contained to the separate one-shots and drabbles); that's okay, feel free to skip this one! I concede this is a lot of boinking, but that’s sort of what the story, and specifically this chapter, has been building to. In future chapters, there will probably be more of a mix (plot, fluff, angst, smut) 👍🏻

Series Masterlist

It’s the hottest elevator ride of your life.  The second the doors start to close, shielding you from your lobby guard’s view, you and Din move towards each other.  Din reaches you first and crashes his mouth to yours with a force that pushes you against the moving elevator’s walls, knocking the air out of your lungs.  Barely allowing you the moment you need to breathe properly, Din continues his invasion of your mouth, tongue massaging yours in hard, long strokes; his hands moving with similar urgency, moving up and down your sides.  When his thumbs flick over your nipples, you let out a catastrophic groan and your legs give out a little; lucky for you, Din has no problem holding you up.  Mouth never leaving yours, Din crosses your wrists over your head, holding them with one hand while sliding his free hand down to your ass.  Already arching into him from this new position, you buck into Din’s thigh when you feel him grab a fistful of one ass cheek and squeeze.

Chuckling, Din gives you a little lick on the neck beneath your ear, “Eager, aren’t we?  Don’t worry, pretty bird, I’ll give you what you need.”

Before you can respond, the elevator doors open with a ding, and you’ve never been more relieved to see the empty hallway of your floor and not the scandalized face of some poor unsuspecting neighbour.  Pausing only to pick up the dog leash that you dropped when Din had you pinned, you practically drag him by the hand to your door.

Once inside, you busy yourself with Al’s nighttime ritual (fresh bowl of water, dental chew), leaving Din free to take in your apartment.  The front foyer opens immediately to an open concept space so he can see clear across a living room area that’s adorn with perfectly complimentary furniture, all the way to the floor to ceiling windows lining a balcony that runs across the length of the unit.  To the right is a spacious kitchen, with a generous island littered with cooking tools and appliances.  Dog accessories make an appearance in every free nook and cranny, leaving no doubt who rules the roost here.  Just from this cursory look, Din can tell that you personally picked every piece of furniture, décor and small touch in your apartment; everything has a clean, calm aesthetic, and yet, is brimming with a welcoming energy.  From the overflowing bookshelf, to the cozy blanket thrown over the arm chair, to the vases of fresh flowers, it’s all so you.  It doesn’t surprise him that you have a keen eye for decoration and aesthetics; to him, everything you touch is made better.  You watch Din’s eyes sweep over your home; you’re immensely proud of this space and the home you’ve made for yourself and Al, and it brings you joy to share your happy place, your safe space with those you care about.  Looking at this hulk of a man standing in your front entrance, you feel a warmth in your heart at how much he already looks like he belongs here; and you’re suddenly very aware of how much space there is between the two of you.  Din catches your eye and taking in your pensive look, gives you a little smirk with a tilt of his head, “Don’t go shy on me now, sweetheart.”

Crossing the room with embarrassing speed, you nearly leap into his waiting arms; Din catches you with ease and cups his hands under your ass, lifting you so you can cross your legs behind his back and resume kissing him eagerly.  God he is so big, and so… strong, you internally swoon as he easily walks the both of you over to the couch.  He sits himself down gently, and you unwrap your legs so you’re now straddling Din’s lap, staying on your knees so that you have a height advantage for once.  Threading your fingers through his hair, you can feel the tension that has been building up since your first coffeeshop meeting ready to snap; peppering Din’s jaw with light kisses, you hum in his ear, “Want you to ruin me, Din.”

With a growl, Din helps you pull your sweatshirt over your head, “Let’s get you out of these clothes, pretty bird.”  Leaning back to admire you in your lace bra, sitting so pretty on top of him, he murmurs, “Even better than my dreams.”

“You dream about me, Djarin?”

Din starts to kiss down the column of your neck, making his way to your chest, “Every night, pretty bird.”

You sigh as he reaches the top of your breasts, his hands cupping them from underneath to push the supple flesh up into his mouth.  As Din devours everywhere you’re exposed with an open mouth, his hands greedily grope your tits, and you throw you head back in pleasure unable to hold back your moans, “Oh, oh, Din.  Din.  That feels so good. Right there, baby.”

Hands moving to roll your nipples between his fingers over the lace fabric, Din murmurs between mouthfuls, “Right here, sweetheart?  You like it when I touch you through this pretty lace?  Don’t think I didn’t recognize this bra, baby girl.  This little triangle right here,” he bites down on the left cup of your bra where the lace fabric meets the strap and tugs with his teeth so that your strap slides down your shoulder and the lace cup falls away from your chest, “has been torturing me for the last month.”  Just like the night he saw his first peek of this lingerie set, Din is finding its teasing effect on him to be irresistible as he moves his mouth to cover what the fallen lace reveals.

With Din’s face fully buried in your chest, you run your fingers through his hair and hold him close while arching your self into him, needing to get impossibly close to this man; his mouth is setting you on fire and his hands are roaming over your body, caressing and electrifying you with every touch.  And yet, you need more.  More of his tongue, his hands, his words, more, more, more.

Din momentarily pulls you out of your daze, “You wear this just for me, pretty bird?”

You look down at Din and see he already looks as desperate as you feel.  You nod and add hesitantly, “Just for you… daddy,” deciding in the moment to try out the petname.  It’s not something you’ve used a lot with past partners, but for some reason, maybe it’s his size, his protective nature, or just the way you want to give yourself over to Din to let him handle you, the moniker fits; even when you would touch yourself to the thought of him, you would always come to the thought of daddy.

Din grins as he takes your now wet nipple back into his mouth, “Is that what you did, baby?  Wrap yourself up like a present for daddy?”

“Mmmhhh god yes,” you whimper; hearing him call himself daddy and pick up on the way you like dirty talk is causing a fresh wave of arousal to seep out of you, “Do you want to unwrap me, Din?”

Before Din even starts to nod, you climb off of his lap and stand right between his spread legs, shimmying down your pants to reveal the matching black panties. 

Din thinks he might pass out.  He has no idea what he’s done to deserve you serving yourself up to him like a perfectly wrapped gift; the coy and almost shy look you’re giving him right now as he takes in your pretty form is tapping into something wild and feral inside of him.  Reaching for you, he hooks two fingers into the band of your underwear as soon as you’re close enough and yanks you into him.  You laugh as you fall onto Din, his strong arms catching and pulling you on top of him so his lips can return to your chest again.  Your laughter quickly turns into needy whimpers as Din mouths and paws at you and you hear his filthy words vibrating against your skin, “Gonna take you apart, pretty girl.  Gonna have you screaming my name when you come on my mouth, my fingers, my cock.  You’re not going to remember your own name, baby – you’ll only know mine.”

You whine as Din growls again, “Mine,” and presses you down to grind on his lap.  You can feel his hardness straining against his pants as you chase after the delicious friction it provides, face warm with embarrassment at the mess your soaked panties must be making of his pants.

“Din, please…”

“What do you need, sweetheart?”

“…more.  I need more, daddy,” you plead.

Din leaves a hand gripping your hip to help you build a grinding rhythm while his other hand moves between your bodies and trails down to your underwear.  Rubbing his fingers over the fabric, he finds you drenched, “So fucking wet, pretty bird.  You soak through these pretty panties just for me?”

By now, you’re panting into Din’s neck, so worked up you think you might scream if he doesn’t touch you soon, “Yes, oh yes, Din… all for you.  Pussy is dripping for you.  Need you to touch me, please, please.”

“So beautiful and sexy, and now polite, too.  Such good manners, saying please so pretty like that.  Don’t worry, baby doll, daddy will give you what you need,” pushing aside the lace to reveal your slick covered cunt, Din slides his fingers through your slit with purposeful strokes; repeatedly dipping his fingers in to explore your hole before spreading your wetness all over, leaving you flushed and squirming in his lap – somehow getting what you wanted has left you even needier than ever.

Gathering what small amount of self agency you have left, you force yourself to shift away from Din’s hand and straighten up to start unbuttoning Din’s shirt; with each undone button, you spread open the fabric and kiss the newly exposed part of his chest, taking in Din’s low moans as you explore his body with your hands and mouth.  When the expanse of his hard chest is before you, you step off of his lap and lean over Din to admire his impressive physique.  He’s unfathomably large, somehow even more so underneath his clothes, a solid wall of muscles no doubt well developed during his days as a boxer; running your hands over his build and trailing light kisses down his chest, you think that perhaps he’s a little softer now (especially around his tummy area), and you much prefer it that way.  In your explorations of Din’s body, you discover several scars of varying size and shapes, no doubt from long by-gone fights.  While you don’t linger, you run your tongue over the smooth, puckered skin, kissing each scar before moving on, as if to make better the injury that has long healed; Din looks down to watch you leave your loving touch on all the parts of his body where violence has marked him and feels his chest tighten at your tenderness.  In this moment he thinks that maybe, maybe, you’re the grace that’s meant to right all his wrong doings; his very own goddamn angel.

By the time you reach the last shirt button, your mouth is watering and you’ve successfully worked yourself up to stratospheric levels, actually feeling your slick dripping down to your inner thighs.  Along with the button, you also undo Din’s belt and pants then slowly sink down to your knees in front of his spread legs, before looking up at him with want.

Holy shit. Din thinks he could come just from the sight of you kneeling before him, lips swollen, lace bra half off with pretty tits on display for him, pupils blown wide with a mix of lust and playfulness.  He lifts himself slightly so you can pull down his boxers and pants, and when his hard cock springs out with a bounce, he sees your eyes widen and you bite your bottom lip while sharply inhaling.  With amusement, he lets you busy yourself with taking off his pants fully and watches as your brow furrows with a tinge of worry.  He wants to soothe away your concern and tell you how bad he wants you in this moment, but the ability to form words seems to have escaped him.

When you come face to face with his impressive length again, you lock eyes with Din before breathing his name, breath fanning his dick and drawing a low groan from his throat; encouraged, you cup his balls with one hand, gently grasp his base with your other, and ready by pointing his tip towards your mouth.

Gingerly kissing the swollen head and kitten licking away the bead of precum seeping out of his slit, you coo, “Daddy it’s too big,” giving him a doe-eyed look of apprehension.  As good as you look and feel, floating your soft breath over his leaking cock, Din’s impatience and hunger override all his other sense and he has to have you now.  Leaning down to kiss you, open mouthed and hungry, he directs you off your knees with his strong arms, murmuring, “Don’t worry, pretty bird.  You can take it; I have to taste you now to make it fit, okay?”  You start to whine in protest, but as Din maneuvers you so that you’ve switched positions, you forget about the injustice of having being denied taking his cock in your mouth when you see Din’s eyes darken at the sticky mess between your legs.  Kissing your inner thighs as he peels off your lace panties, Din chuckles, “Did the idea of sucking daddy’s cock get you all worked up, sweetheart? You’ll have plenty of chances to take me in that sweet mouth of yours.  Not right now though, I need to get you ready for me.  Need to fuck you.” You at moan at his words, then gasp his name when he dives into you without warning like a man starved.

The obscene noises that Din makes as he licks your pussy and slurps your wetness fill the room and accompany the melody of your cries above him.  Grabbing his hair for purchase, your legs shake from pleasure so much that Din hooks an arm under your thigh to open you up even more and uses that hand to press you down so you can’t move.  “Taste so good, so sweet,” Din mutters and the vibrations of his baritone voice course all the way to your chest and you let out a wail, “Daddy, daddy, daddy.. oh fuc-!” Releasing one of your hands from Din’s curls to cover your mouth, Din reaches up with breathtaking speed and pulls your hand down.  With his mouth still pressed against your folds and nose nudging your clit, he purrs, “Want to hear you, baby.  Wanna hear what I do to you.”  Again, his words reverberate through you and electrify every pleasure point in your body so that you have no choice but to mindlessly grope your breasts and arch you back; if he wants to hear you, he’ll hear you:

“Fuck, daddy, that feels so good. Love your mouth on me.”

“Don’t stop, Din.  Need you, been waiting for you to tear me apart for so long.”

“Din. Din. Din… please, fuck, you’re so good at this… so good to me.”

“Please, oh god, please.  Daddy, I want to come all over your face, please daddy, daddy please let me come. Ahhhhhhh…”

Spurned on by your praise, Din bares down on you to lick one last hard stripe against your seam before taking your clit in his mouth and sucking.  Not giving you anytime to recover from the change in pressure, he presses in a thick finger all the way into your cunt, before quickly adding a second.  It’s too much, too much, you practically sob, as Din stretches you out and pushes you closer and closer to the brink.  “Baby, you can take it, gotta stretch this pussy out so my cock can wreck it,” he growls as his fingers pump into you with a quickening pace.  Your heartbeat starts to race as you feel your orgasm building in your lower belly; you’re writhing in Din’s hold, chanting non-stop incoherent ramblings of pleasure when he adds a third finger without warning – the added pressure brings a bite of pain that hurtles you over the edge, coming with a scream of Din’s name.

Din slows down his fingers, but keeps in all three, continuing to finger fuck you and lap at your sensitive clit until your whole body stops buzzing.

“Daddy…” you sigh, opening your eyes as Din rises, mouth and chin still shiny with your slick, and closes in for a kiss.  Cupping his face to help wipe away the evidence of your arousal, you sigh into his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue as a fresh wave of warmth washes over you.  Still pliant and fuzzy from your orgasm, you let Din lay you down on the couch before he straightens himself up to remove his shirt and jacket; after folding them over neatly at the other end of the couch, Din turns back and braces his arm on the back of the couch to tower his naked form over you.  Fuck.  He belongs in a museum.  Mouth agape at the breathtaking sight above you, your legs part of their own accord, beckoning him. 

Planting himself between your open legs, Din pulls the cups of your lacy bra down with his fingers and your breasts fall into his hands; leaning in close, he whispers, “Wanna see these gorgeous tits bounce when I fuck you, pretty bird,” and as if on autopilot, you prop yourself up on your elbows, giving Din access to the clasp.  After sliding your bra down your arms and tossing it away, Din marvels at your naked body before him; he needs to fuck you like he needs air.  In a moment of miraculous clarity, he whispers, “Baby, do you have a condom?”

Suddenly shy, despite the ache of your cunt, you let Din know, “I’m clean… if you want, Din, you can fuck me bare?”

“Shit, pretty bird.  I’m clean, too. You sure?”

“Wanna feel you, daddy.”

“I swear you’ll be the death of me, baby,” he reveres, leaning down to capture your mouth in a breathtaking kiss. 

“Din,” you whimper, “please… need you… please, fuck me.”

“I’m here, I’m here… such a needy slut.”

You gasp, and for a second, Din wonders if maybe he’s taken the dirty talk too far; leaning away to check on you, he’s pulled back in when you throw an arm around his neck and crush your lips to his, kissing him with explosive want. “Your needy slut,” you murmur against his mouth, his filthy words having you clenching and feeling much too empty, “come claim your pussy.  It’s all yours, daddy.”

“Fuck,” grits Din, “the mouth on you, baby,” as he pulls back to line himself up with your entrance; he notches your opening and pauses for a moment, “Ready, pretty bird?” You appreciate this moment of tenderness, because you’re sure it’s coming right before Din absolutely wrecks you; you positively beam, “Give it to me, daddy.”

Din smirks at your enthusiasm and watches as your confident expression changes to one of being shell-shocked as he pushes in slowly; inch by inch, Din presses into you as you spread your legs further, one leg dropping off the couch and back arching to accommodate him, “Fuck, Din.  So… big,” you whine, hands gripping his shoulders, fingernails marking him to distract from the stretch.

“You’re taking me so well, baby girl,” Din coos, leaning in and wrapping his arms around you in encouragement, kissing your neck and nipping at your earlobes as he continues to sheath himself deep within you.  Finally, finally he bottoms out; you’re so, so full and you think you may have to relearn how to breathe.

Din rests his forehead against yours, panting and holding himself back until you let him know you’re ready;  he’d wager this is no less than a Herculean feat, with your tight warm cunt practically choking him, it’s a wonder to him he hasn’t come already.  Peppering your throat with light kisses and he croaks out words of praise in a husky, strained voice right into your ear, “Look at my good girl, taking me so deep,” “Feel so good and tight on my dick. So, so perfect for me,” “Never want to leave this cunt.  Could stay buried here forever.”

Your breathing, though shallow, finally steadies, “Din?”

“Yes, pretty bird,” he practically chokes.

“Please move,” you plead, “… and Din?”

He looks at your blissed out face as he pulls away from your neck, “Yes?”

“Don’t hold back, baby,” your smile playful.

Din returns your grin, “Any thing my pretty little slut wants,” and he pulls back nearly all the way, before pushing back in with restrained force.  He fucks into you with a few long, gentle strokes, waiting to make sure your moans are ones of pleasure before he lets go and slams into you, burying into you to the hilt before pulling back and driving into you over and over.  You feel the air punch out of your lungs with each of Din’s powerful thrusts; your combined cries and grunts of ecstasy mix with the sounds of skin slapping, filling the room and has your eyes rolling to the back of your head.  You grab at Din’s arms and babble nonsensically, “Din, Din.. Imma… feels so good… baby, baby, please… fuck, fuck...”

The build up to this, to tonight really, has been too much and Din know he won’t last.  Mesmerized by the vision of you writhing beneath him, your gorgeous tits bouncing as you cry out, he vows to make you come one more time before he explodes.  The hand not gripping your hip reaches up to palm both of your breasts and pull at your peaks; Din stutters when you clench down and cry out a symphony of his name in repetition.  As you’re quaking at the pleasurable sting still vibrating in your nipples, Din snakes a hand down to where you’re joined together and starts rubbing circles on your clit with his thumb.  A fresh wave of slick coats his pistoning cock as you mewl beneath him at the added sensation; you’re fucked dumb and hardly able to think let along string together the words to let Din know how close you are.

“I’m close, baby.  You feel… too good… can’t last.  Need you to come one more time for me.  Can you do that for me? Can you… be my good girl?”  Din grunts hotly in your ear, each question punctuated by a hard thrust.

“Yes, daddy, daddy… fuck oh, yes… can… be… good… Oh, Din, Din, don’t stop, don’t stop, Din, DIN! Nghhhhhhhh!”

“That’s it.  Give it to me, let go, baby. Give daddy one more,” Din is barely able to keep up a steady pace as he presses down on your swollen nub.

Crying out, you shudder and shake as Din pulls another orgasm from you; eyes unfocused and mouth open in a soundless scream, you tense around Din’s length so tightly that his own fall isn’t far behind.  As your breathing starts to even, Din pulls out and strokes himself furiously with his fist before shooting rope after rope of cum over your stomach as you watch, awestruck.  So much.  Pulling you up and into his lap with a strong hand to your back, Din kisses you tenderly as you come down from what has probably been the best fuck of your life.

Settled contently in the afterglow, you run your fingers gently up and down Din’s warm back as he continues to kiss you softly; stroking your hair lovingly, he whispers, “Sorry, pretty bird.  Didn’t have time to ask you where you wanted me to come.”

Gosh, you adore him.  Giggling, you kiss that sweet mouth of his, “It’s okay, baby.  I like that you marked me.  I told you, I’m yours.”

“Mine,” Din murmurs between gentle pecks to your lips, cradling your head gently while holding you close with his other arm, “Was that okay, sweetheart?”

You tuck yourself into your favourite nook under his chin and nod into his neck, “Perfect, Din. Knew you would be.”

“You’re my dream girl, pretty bird.”

You close your eyes and sigh happily, fucked out and pulled apart.

“Want to get cleaned up a bit?” Din suggests after a while.

When you nod into his neck, Din stands, still holding you close; softening against you, he effortlessly carries you in the direction of the bathroom that you point him in.  After setting you down softly on your feet, Din helps steady you as you reach for tissues and a hand towel and patiently waits for the water to warm before he gently cleans off his spend from your stomach and his own.  Giving you a little privacy to finish up, Din exits the bathroom first; when you come out, you see he’s gathered both of your clothes from the various places in the living room they were discarded, and is holding them with both hands in a neat pile in front of his nakedness like a sitcom character caught in a compromising position.   Cheekily letting out a low wolf whistle, tell Din how cute he is, then hold your hand out for his which he manages to take without dropping the clothes.

Leading him by the hand to your bedroom, you wordlessly take the clothes from him and put them on top of your hamper before throwing your arms around Din’s neck and kissing him with abandon.  The depth of your passionate for this man, and your gratefulness for intimacy that now exists between the two of you is overflowing.  You want him to know how good he made you feel, that he’s left you changed, filled with a need that you don’t think anyone other than him will ever be able to fill. 

“Do you want to stay over, Din?” you whisper into his lips; as amazing as this night has been so far, it somehow feels like not enough and you don’t want it to end just yet.

Din’s response is to pick you up and throw you, shrieking with laughter, onto your bed and dive bomb after you; giving you just enough time to roll away at the last minute so he doesn’t smoosh you.  Throwing his long arm over your middle, he rolls you back into him before pressing his mouth against yours, “I would love to stay over, pretty bird.  You think Al would be good with me joining you on mornings walks too?” 

Nodding, you smile and card your hands through Din’s curls, still slightly damp from your escapades in the living room, and pull him impossibly closer so there’s more of you touching than not.  The two of you stay like this for who knows how long; naked bodies entangled, strong arms encircling, never-ending soft touches from lips, fingers, hands, lazily mapping each other’s bodies.  Floating over the gentle grazes are whispered pleas for forgiveness once again, reminders that forgiveness was already granted, renewed vows of devotion, and declarations of adoration.  Every caress a promise for the future and an expression of your quiet joy.

With one hand running long, lazy strokes over your back like steady current and the other gently cradling your head, Din’s tongue parts your lips, “Can I have you again, sweetheart?”

Pulling back and looking at Din directly in the eyes, you find a sweet longing that makes more than your heart ache, so you nod while exhaling a satisfied breath.

“Wanna take it slow this time, okay pretty bird?”

Giving a low chuckle, “You always want to take things slow,” you grin, before kissing him earnestly, “I’m yours, Din, however you want me.”

Despite having just told you his intention to go slowly, your words have Din hardening fast as he licks into your mouth and deepens his kisses.

But he’s committed to taking his time and does indeed go slow. 

Slowly, he makes his way down your body, memorizing every curve of your neck and your breasts, every dip and valley of your hips and stomach with his mouth and hands.  Taking a pause at every soft peak of your body to impart loving caresses and murmur sweet words of praise and praising words of filth about what you do to him and what he wants to do to you.

Slowly, you fall apart when his tongue laps at you with the intent to explore and claim, gradually building you up with each lick.  With the patience of a saint, he repeatedly guides your thighs to stay open with firm, but gentle massages from his hands while he lazily sucks on your clit and you cry out long, drawn out whines above him.  He reveres each and every line and crest of your folds with his mouth, as you chant his name and grab at his curls to press him deeper into you for more, more.  Nothing can hurry him – not your soft cries of pleasure, not the strained hard on he ruts into your mattress, nor your dripping arousal running down your centre and soaking your sheets – he deliberately applies the sweet pressure you need to send you tumbling into oblivion when he’s good and ready, then draws out your pleasure even longer by continuing to devour you through your high.

He has to force himself to breathe slowly when you take him in your mouth, and following his cue, set a sweet and slow pace, licking and stroking his shaft lazily before swallowing him deep and working his length in an unhurried, steady rhythm.  Your small, soft hands cup him from below, and your fingers ghost a tickling trail over his balls, humming appreciatively to the sounds of Din’s haggard breathing and the small gasps that escape his throat.  He gently runs his fingers through your hair, brushing loose strands off your face as you suck his shaft and wrap your tongue around his swollen head; massaging your scalp soothingly as you take your time pulling all of him down your tight throat.  It’s almost unfair to call this a blow job when it’s really more of an appreciation of his glorious cock conducted at your leisure, the pleasure you’re receiving equaling Din’s.

Not without regret, Din coaxes you off of him, promising you he’ll come in your mouth another time as he lovingly kisses your messy mouth.  Even his vow of taking it slow has limits, and he openly admits he’s ready to concede, “Need to be inside of you, pretty bird.”

Din’s mouth never leaves yours as he lines himself up between your legs and almost agonizingly slowly, pushes in.  You’re so wet and open that he meets little resistance, but with his unrushed pace, you feel every ridge as he fills you.  There’s none of the urgency and impatience of your earlier dalliance; Din sets a relaxed pace, and braces his forearms on either side of your head, hands tenderly stroking your hair and face as he kisses you over and over.  As he thrusts in and out of you with long, deliberate strokes, Din drinks in your whimpers and soft cries of heady bliss, coming up only for air to whisper sweet praise in your ear about how good you feel around him, how beautiful you are, how perfect you are, made for him.  You don’t hold back any of your own ramblings, murmuring back how incredible he feels inside you, how well he fills you, how happy he makes you, how you want the weight of him on you at all times.  You feel so full, so beautiful, so safe and free, and so loved.  Din had promised to take you apart and put you back together when he finally took you to bed, and you had assumed he meant physically, but you’re sure now that he’s reshaped your heart as well.  With the way he’s looking at you while he fucks you deep and slow, adoring you, you can’t help as your eyes water slightly and tears escape from the corner of your eyes.  “I know, baby, I know,” whispers Din as he soothes away your tears.  Eventually, both your breathing turns shallow, your kisses sloppier, and your moans indecent.  With broken words, you gasp, “I’m so close.  Oh, god, Din.  Please.  Inside.  Please, Din, come inside me.  It’s safe, I-” and before you can finish your sentence, he kisses you to convey his trust, and reaches down to draw figure eights on your clit as he suddenly picks up the pace, giving himself the permission to release what he’s been holding back.  The sudden change in speed coupled with the delicious strokes from Din’s thumb has you coming for your personal record breaking fourth time tonight, clenching down so hard on Din that he fists the sheets next to your head tight enough to turn his knuckles white.  Somehow mustering enough focus to slam into you even harder for three, four, five more strokes, Din comes mightily with a low, prolonged grunt, collapsing on top of you while panting into your neck.

A minute passes and Din rolls off of you and pulls you close; as he slips out of you, you whine a little from the loss and look at him almost shy, to which he kisses your forehead tenderly.  No words needed, he gets up, walks around to your side of the bed to lift you bridal style, keeping your legs closed to minimize the mess on your bed sheets before carrying you to your bedroom ensuite.  After cleaning up, you put on a fresh pair of underwear and a silky camisole for sleep while Din dons his boxers before the two of you slip comfortably under the covers, grinning like tired idiots the whole time.

Pressing you to his chest, Din nuzzles the back of your neck and peppers the nape with light kisses, “Remember when I told you I didn’t plan on getting much sleep around you, pretty bird?”

You hum in assent, remember his teasing from your second date.

“If you keep wearing things like this to bed,” his big hand moves to brush deliberately over your nipples and then trail down your side to lightly spank your ass, “then I’m going to have to start calling in to work.”

You giggle and buck back into him, teasingly, “It’s okay, you’re the boss.”

“Nah, you’re the boss, pretty bird.  From this night on, I’m at your beck and call.  Fall to my knees and worship you, servant to your every whim, ready to topple kingdoms should that be your wish,” you can feel his goofy, lopsided smile against your ear.

“A boxer and a poet?  A lover and a fighter? Who knew you contained such multitudes, Djarin,” you quip, but secretly melting at his romantic words.

“Such a perfect night, baby.  You’re so perfect.”  He kisses your shoulder, then nips it lightly with his teeth for good measure, causing you to yelp in surprise.

Turning over, you snuggle in under his chin, “You were pretty good tonight too, old man.”

“Just want to be good for you, pretty bird.  Want to always make you feel good.”

“You do, Din.  You make me feel so cherished, and wanted, and sexy, and safe.  Really,” and you pull back to look him deep in his eyes, “I meant everything I said tonight, baby.  It’s okay to share your world with me; I won’t judge.  Please don’t ever feel like there’s no place for me by your side; it’s where I want to be.”

“It’s where you belong,” he counters, sealing this declaration with a sweet kiss.

Turning back over, you hold on to Din’s forearms and nest back into his protective embrace; smiling to yourself as the sounds of Din’s gentle breathing lull you into a peaceful sleep.

[sstan-hoe]

— 𝑊𝑖𝑛𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑇𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑂𝑢𝑡 —

𝑃𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 — mob!bucky barnes × fem!reader

𝑆𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 — “i don’t know what kind of wine you’re meant to have with takeout, so i got both.”

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 — none! But listen to PERFECT from ED SHEERAN please you should really do it

𝑁𝑜𝑡𝑒 — this was requested by the lovely @bucky-barnes-diaries who gifted me with this marvelous idea, it screamed mob au where he only knows fancy but reader isn't as fancy, reblog, follow and comment !

𝑉𝑎𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑒'𝑠 𝐷𝑎𝑦 𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑡

To say Bucky was nervous would be an understatement, he was anxious. Never before did he have a Valentine's Day as important as this one.

It was the first Valentine’s day he would celebrate with you. For weeks he had planned the perfect day, with a private screening of Jojo Rabbit and a fancy dinner afterwards. Then one night as you laid cuddled up in bed you told him how you didn’t want to do anything fancy.

You hadn't grown up in luxury or lived in it for a long time like Bucky. Of course you knew he only wanted to cherish you, but you didn't need that.

Instead your idea was to buy takeout and have a nice relaxing evening.

That wasn't on Bucky's list. However he wouldn’t do something that you didn’t want which was why he was currently in his wine cellar looking for the perfect wine. The Domaine Leroy Musigny Grand Cru and the Coche-Dury Corton-Charlemagne Grand Cru, but which wine would someone drink with takeout? Red or white? Or no wine at all? He decided to take both.

You were already buzzing with excitement, this Valentine’s day would be special which was the reason you wanted to do something normal and not fancy. In the past years you’ve never met a man quite like Bucky, he was a gentleman, cared for you, worshiped you and respected you.

Everything was finished, a set table with fresh roses, dim lights and romantic playlist you found on Spotify. Now any minute Bucky would come and sweep you off your feet.

The doorbell rang and you had to keep a giggle from coming to the surface as you skipped over to the door. Opening the wooden door it revealed Bucky, his hair pulled back into a man bun, he wore black jeans and a matching black flannel.

“Hey there handsome…,” you smirked leaning against your doorframe. Bucky mirrored your smirk and stepped closer to you. “Hello, beautiful…,” he leaned his face down, his nose almost touching yours.

In moments like these you realized once again how tall he was compared to you. Bucky’s hand grasped your cheek to kiss you, the kiss was full of passion and his tongue graced your bottom lip to ask for permission. Instantly your mouth fell open to let him in. Your tongues danced over dominance, the kiss as hot as fire.

You had to pull back for air, breathing heavily you looked into his blue eyes with a big smile. Bucky rested his forehead on yours and closed his eyes like you before he pushed you inside your flat.

“I don't know what kind of wine you’re meant to have with takeout, so I got both,” he said as you both came to a stop. A hearty laugh escaped your lips at his words, “no worries, my love,” you assured him and led him to the table.

The mob boss had a spark in his eyes as he saw how beautifully you decorated the table, “look what my pretty girl did! This looks amazing, dragul meu.” his Romanian tongue had butterflies dancing in your belly.

Bucky wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you close to kiss the crown of your head.

“Takeout is still not here…wanna dance?” you asked with a little smirk and raised eyebrows. The brunette immediately took your right hand and spun you around, “with pleasure,” he whispered against the shell of your ear as he had you flush against his chest.

He spun you back around and the music switched to ‘Perfect’ from Ed Sheeran.

His hands rested on your waist as your hands closed around his neck. Your head laid on his shoulder, trying to be as close to him as possible.

Swaying around your living room, the room was full of love. You enjoyed this moment, it should never end because this is right where you wanted to be forever. This man, he was the one you wanted to be with forever without exception.

You lifted your head and opened your eyes to see he was already looking at you with those dreamy blue eyes. The smile never left your lips, he looked perfect.

Bucky couldn’t take his eyes off you, he wondered how he deserved a woman like you. A woman who was okay with what he was doing, a woman who appreciated him, a woman who wasn’t with him for his money and a woman who accepted him with his scars.

A soft warm hand laid against his cheeks and you looked at him with this gaze, he didn’t want that to change, ever.

You were the woman he would marry, have children with, grow old with and would spend forever with. “And now I know I have met an angel in person,” Bucky began singing along quietly, his voice angelic.

“And she looks perfect,” his eyes never left yours as you tried hard not to tear up, “I don’t deserve this,” Bucky pulled you closer.

“You look perfect tonight,” he whispered the last words before he closed his lips on yours.

[soft-and-bitter]

Failed Bargaining (Drabble)

Mob Boss!Steve x Introvert!Reader

Steve would go to any length in order to have you, and that worried you. A lot.

Warning(s): swearing

If you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging or leaving some feedback, thanks! ❤

Steve made you nervous the very first time you set eyes on him. Because as soon as you did, you knew just how far apart your worlds were. Every fibre of his being exuded unbridled wealth and glamour, but there was more to it too, simmering beneath it all: shades of darkness you didn't think you wanted to delve into.

Apparently Steve shared none of your sentiments.

You stared at the necklace dangling before you, brows knitted. "Um, what's this?" you ask, even though you knew perfectly well what it was. While awaiting the next course, the others present at your surprise birthday dinner had, fortunately, fallen into their own worlds, deep in conversation about anything other than what was going on now between the two of you.

"A birthday present, of course," he responded, his smile never faltering. "Just one of many for my sweet girl."

It was a simple design—nothing ostentatious, thank god, but you were highly skeptical of its cost, not to mention its provenance. You may not have known Steve that long, but observation, coupled with Sharon's anecdotes, taught you that Steve never did anything in half-measures.

"You didn't have to," you tried to protest, but he was already sweeping your hair over one shoulder to gain access to your nape.

Steve chuckled softly, wrapping the delicate necklace around your neck. "But I wanted to, sweetheart. And that's what matters."

The pet names worried you just as much as the gift. Everything was moving way too fast, this . . . thing, whatever it was, between the two of you. Steve had materialized into your life out of the blue, and now suddenly it felt like he was everywhere, in every corner you inhabited, like he'd always been there. Never mind that you still had no idea what he did for a living.

His birthday gift, cold and heavy against your skin, only drove the message home. If you thought you were doing things casually, Steve wasn't having it.

Fuck.

Steve played with the gold chain of your necklace before dropping a kiss tenderly on your shoulder. "It's beautiful on you," he remarked, fingers ghosting along your collarbone. "You're never going to take this off. Promise?"

You blinked at him once, twice. His command took you aback, the gravity in his tone so different from anything you experienced. Steve watched you expectantly, his blue eyes bright.

"Steve, listen," you began, one hand covering his own as you tried to stop his fingers from exploring further. "This is all amazing, it is, but, um . . . don't you think we might be moving a bit too fast here?"

You feared he'd take offence to that, but his smile said otherwise.

"Sweetheart, we're not moving fast enough."

Just something quick and short to get me back in the swing of things. I do consider this part of a bigger story I've been cooking up, so let me know what you think! Do y'all want more?

[pynkgothicka]

Request: can you write where OC who is in the police force/ a detective and trying to catch the world notorious mafia king (no one knows what he looks like). OC found an injured jimin and helped him. Jimin became madly obsessed with oc, stalked oc and kidnapped oc and made oc his

Ｗｉｃｋｅｄ Ｇａｍｅｓ ＰＪＭ

Synopsis - Your a new detective who gets put on a rough case to solve a string of cocaine over doses.

Pairing - Yandere! Jimin x Fem! Reader

Featuring - Toni Braxton, Jackson Wang (Begrudgingly.)

Tags and Warnings - Drug mentions, Kidnapping, Manipulation, Jimin being a little bit mean, sexual tones towards the end

Authors Note - I need to write more mob boss fics. Tis was fun.

A friendly reminder that all my works are dark fanfiction! Please if you do not like that do not read them! These depictions don't pertain to reality. This is your final warning before hitting the keep reading button!!

Your office was blistering cold as you stared at a huge file on your desk.

You were tasked with connecting and solving a string of cocaine related deaths. Your boss, the police chief Toni, had gave you the case hoping to give you experience with a big case rather than a little one for your first case under the detective title.

But the scenes you saw with this case haunted you. Slacked jaws and frothing mouths. All while the environments around them showed their hopeless situation. You felt bad for the men, probably all dealing with addiction.

You were shaken from your thoughts as the door opened, Toni handing in a weeks worth of lab data. “The lab work for the coke came back. All of the various samples provided were all of the same, and get this, were all stronger and more concentrated.”

“That would make sense, all these men who died we're big named in the crime world.” You added standing up, grabbing both badge and gun. “That would make all the deaths planned! I'm going out, doing one last swoop of some of the crime scenes. I think I'm looking past a bigger picture.”

“Well who do you think it is?"

“I don't know. But I think it's a power play thing. I just need to do investigate more! got this!” You said rushing out of your office, leaving a stunned Toni.

She began to look at your board, seeing towards the end of your board a blank face with the name Jimin written in red ink. He had no connection to the case, but you were considering him.

Toni took a deep breath before shaking her head. “This can't be good...God please protect her…”

🔍

As you drove down to the first crime scene, you tried to clarify any leads as who it could possibly be. This has been your focus for the last week, and you had to prove your worth to Toni. It was a personal goal, but hopefully a goal that would be in good favor.

When you pulled into the first crime scene, the place was obviously a party house. The yard and peeking inside, were both messy. Jackson Wang's body was found here, a known crime boss and partier. This was probably one of his go to rental spaces for parties.

You walked past the yellow tape and glanced at the main room. It reeked of booze and death. The table that sat right in front of Jackson's deathbed was still messy as the night of his death. What's a better place to start looking again rather than here?

The table had split drinks, which were now sticky, all over it. But what caught your eye was a brown paper bag. Upon a closer examination, there was a small “P” written on the top. You rose a brow at that. Then you picked it up, looking inside to see more coke.

What drug dealer would mark their works at a and then leave it there once the area became a crime scene? Wouldn't they want to get rid of any connection to the death? More so why hadn't the police picked it up during their first sweep through? Toni was initially over this case, and she didn't seem to be the type to leave crucial evidence behind.

You slipped on a glove and picked up the brown paper bag, putting it into a small zip lock bag you'd brought. Maybe this would be the key to figuring out the cases? You’d just have to visit the other spots and see if the bag was there as well.

Upon your way out you heard a loud gutteral yell. You followed the sound seeing a dark haired man holding his abdomen. He hissed as he slid down the wall. His assailant hurried off, but you didn't have time to chase him up on close inspection of the injured man. Blood began to seep through his shirt.

“Holy shit! Sir, I…I'm going to bring you to the nearest hospital. Just hold onto me while I bring you to my car.” He gave you a small nod, almost as if he had a choice in the matter. You refused to let this man die.

You got down to his side, grabbing his arm to lift him up. You carried his body to the back seat of your car. He kept hissing and groaning, but you settled him down with a cold water bottle you had. “Keep this on or near the wound. It will slow down your blood flow so you don't lose as much.” You then quickly got in and cranked the engine, setting the car to drive.

🔍

Jimin laid in the hospital bed, eyes trained to his right, watching as you slept. The amount of love he held for you, reached no boundaries. Jimin knew he was obsessed, but it's not like he could do anything about it.

Once Jimin saw something he wanted, he had to have it.

Jimin had everything planned out.

The police station was already deep in his grasp majority of them being corrupt and self serving. Especially Toni.

Police Chief Toni Braxton was one of his ex’s. It was a relationship that ended months ago and something he didn't miss. However he knew for a fact she missed him.

All it took was hint the possibility of getting back together. And with that Toni almost immediately to fell into her place for his plan.

“Jimin, I still love you. I know I shouldn't but I do.” Toni told him. He knew if he visited her apartment, she would be all over him again. Which was correct, as she was already on his lap, and he hadn't been there not even 30 minutes.

“Oh baby, I'm willing to bring back what we had. I missed all this.” Jimins hand grasped at her ass hard, knowing she'd bruise. Toni let out a small gasp as Jimin continued. “I just need you to do a small favor for me.”

“Anything for you. You know that.”

“You know that new detective you promoted baby? I want her on my case.” Jimin said leaning into Toni's neck, leaving small hickies.

“Why?” She gasped out. Her hand went to his face, pushing his eyes to meet hers. She placed her forehead on his own, lips almost about to connect.

“You know I don't wanna get caught now? She won't be able to catch me, catch us. Just do it until I get things together, then we can have that life we always talked about.” And with that Jimin connected her lips, sealing his ask with a small hot and heavy makeout.

That marked down Toni, next he needed to play hurt. But he knew he couldn't just fake being seriously hurt. He'd already contacted the hospital about his plan, in hope that they'd receive a small extra shipment of what he has to offer.

So he got one of his guys to stab him in the alley by that dickhead Jackson's place. He knew you'd have to revisit as he made sure to leave some things missing from the initial crime scene. Once Jimin saw you, he waited a few minutes before whispering a small now for his man to stab him.

And it hurt.

It fucking felt like he'd been shot, but ten times worse. The stab wasn't deep but still.

But he was relieved as he saw your worried expression come into view.

All of that hard work led to now, him watching your slumbering face. You'd refused to leave his side upon arrival and he couldn't be more grateful for it. You had such a sweet heart. More so you couldn't see the game he was playing.

He was so rudely pulled from his gaze as Toni walked in, brown locs pulled into a pony tail. She took off her uniform seemingly to present herself to him. Her white button down had a few unbuttoned near the top and her pants hugged her curves just right.

It left such a bitter taste in his mouth.

“Jimin! I heard you were hurt.” She turned around looking at your passed out form in the chair. “She's still here?”

“Yeah. Why are you here Toni? The hospital doesn't play with visitors. They're allowing her to stay as mine right now.” He rambled on.

A lie.

But just maybe he could piss her off enough to where she could go on her own accord. But Toni only came closer hands resting on his shoulder.

“I know, I just worry about you. Shes begun to piece things together.” Toni kissed at his temple. “I just hope she doesn't end up getting hurt. I can't have you go to jail for murder now.”

Jimin shrugged Toni away. “Just not right now. I'm actually fucking hurting and all you can think about is her. Obsessed much?”

Hypocrite.

Toni took a step back before letting out a huff. “Fine. I'll text you later whenever your not being a asshole. Make sure my detective gets back safe.”

Jimin knew damn well he was going to do the exact opposite. In fact she was never going to see him nor you ever again. As soon as Toni walked through the door, she just about secured his and your future together.

“Don't worry baby, I got some men coming get us. It's going to be so nice. I'm happy your played along with all this. I love you.”

[i-am-grell]

Pick My Next Anime

I'm about half way through season 4 of Haikyuu so I feel good about rolling out the next poll!

If you're new here, I have a lot of anime that I wanna watch. But I'm bad at starting series, finishing series, and making choices, so Tumblr gets to decide for me. (Fin) is stuff I have to finish, (Start) is stuff I wanna start - pretty straightforward.

As always, propaganda* (*my thoughts/feelings/whatever) below the poll. You're welcome to reblog and bully your followers to your cause (@ other peoples' followers, you don't have to know me, like me, or follow me to throw anime at me - frankly, you don't even have to like anime, just pick a button).

Propaganda:

Ace Attorney - I believe I was around the start of season 2 when I left off in Recipe for a Turnabout. Idk last thing I remember was hearing J Michael Tatum's aph France voice in a context outside of Hetalia and taking psychic damage. I'm prepared now. Frankly, I'm impressed I made it through Turnabout Big Top animated.

Tribe Nine - The propaganda here is Corpse Husband. I have nothing further to give you. Anyone who watched this watched it for Corpse Husband.

Sasaki and Miyano: Graduation - Dub it dub it dub it dub it get Kellen Goff in that booth. I have nothing against subs other than I like doing other things while watching shows so I have a dub preference when it's available. I will make an exception for this wonderful romance anime movie. But pls Crunchyroll let them dub it ��� I will rewatch it dubbed if I have to watch it subbed first but PLEASE 🙏

Sk8 the Infinity - Sk8 is 0 for 4 in these polls, second place every time. I say this next part unbiased toward the poll results: I literally chose everything in this one to give y'all a fighting chance. However, I can't decide if it's funnier if you keep getting second or if you deserve a win. Either way here: 🥈

Soul Eater Not! - I adore Soul Eater, but I've never watched Soul Eater Not! Do with that what you will.

Mob Psycho 100 - I, like, just learned what this anime is about. That English title is misleading af. Other than the basic premise, the only thing I know about this series is that your sexyman lost so Sans Undertale could kill the Queen. Respect.