#american housewife x male reader

[xo-xojj]

Test drive/Adore

(not my gif)

Oliver Otto x Male Reader

Desc: Oliver gets a new car and the reader decided Oliver should take it for a test drive. Well what happens on the test drive? (Based on Test drive/Adore- Ariana Grande) MDNI

Type: Smut, Fluff

Warnings: Smut, Top!Oliver, bttm!reader, p in a, creampie, (breeding kink if u squint), stomach bulge, overstimulation, (public exhibition if u squint) unprotected(be safe)

Enjoyyyy

Your boyfriend, Oliver, had just gotten a new car since the one his parents gave him ended up breaking down. With a lot of convincing from Cooper, you, and Oliver they finally gave in. So your boyfriend finally had his car and was super excited.

“Even though a Honda Civic wasn’t ideal, it’s still pretty nice.” Oliver said smiling. You giggled. “Well let’s give it a test drive” you say. He nods opening your door. You slid into the cars passenger seat and he went and go into the drivers seat. He looked in the rear view mirror before starting the car. He backed up a little out of the parking space before driving from his family’s house. Into the drive you noticed he wasn’t really talking.

You took this as an opportunity to get him started. You touch his thigh gently and caress it whispering in his ear, “What’s been on your mind.” You say seductively. You can spot a not so obvious tent in his pants. You can only see it because you’re close enough to.

He gulped trying to keep his eyes on the road. He didn’t even respond. So you decided to snake your hand right above his crotch. You rubbed him through his pants making the tent in his pants grow. He let out a moan as you rubbed him and kissed his neck. He tried focusing on the road put the pleasure was getting to him. He quickly pulled into an empty parking o behind a shut down mall.

He put the car park. He then kissed you with passion ass he grabbed you hips guiding you from the passenger seat onto his lap. He kissed you keeping a hand on your ass and hip. You slowly grind on him and he let out an audible whimper. He kissed your neck making you moan. You laid a hand on his chest as he attacked your neck

“fuck you gonna make me-“ Oliver moaned trying to let you know he was gonna cum. But he couldn’t even warn you before he came. He moaned very loud holding your hips down on him. You couldn’t even move if you wanted to. He laid his lips on yours moaning into your mouth as you gripped and massaged his brown hair.

He was a virgin, to your knowledge and so were you. So you ended up taking a lot of this head on with no guide besides maybe a couple porn videos. But Oliver somewhat knew what to do thanks to his mother, Kate who had a very uncomfortable conversation with Oliver about sex between you and him.

You slowly unbuttoned his shirt revealing a muscular chest. He pulled your shirt over your head and soon your guys clothes were discarded. The radio silently clicked on starting to play music which even amped up the atmosphere. He kissed you softly as you massaged his hair. He Positioned his tip at the entrance of your anus. “Tell me what you need me to do” he whispered “I need you in me” you said.

He quickly fulfilled your request spitting in his hand and jerking himself off a little before sliding into you. “Ngh, fuck” You whimper as he slid into you inch by inch. He let out strings of curses as you clenched around him. He slid you the rest of the way down on his cock and you hid your head into his neck letting out cries and tears and te mix of pain and pleasure.

“Fuck, you’re so tight” Oliver said as you were completely on his cock. “Let me know when you’re ready” Oliver said rubbing your back. You nodded and he held your hips and you moved up and down on cock. Got stomach started to bulge as Oliver looked down seeing his cock print. He got more turned on by the sight.

He bounced you up and down on his cock a little faster than you were going and you became a mess. “You take my cock so well, I’m gonna fill you up so good baby” he said as he fucked you into stupidity. All you could do was mumble, whimper, and moan. He kissed you softly moaning into your mouth as he jerked you off.

The mix of him slamming into your prostate and him jerking you off made you go feral. You scratched his back and he arched as you did. He fucked you deep into the steering wheel making the car beep. “Look at you, you take my cock so well baby. Want me to cum in you? Fill you up so deep with your seed hm?” He asked fucking you onto him and fucking into you.

You whimpered as you came over his chest. But that didn’t make him stop. It gave him more ammunition and drive to continue. You squirm on his cock as tears fall from you face. “Don’t cry baby, you’re doing good for me, just give me one more okay, can you do that for me?” Oliver add you wiping your tears and cupping your checks asking you sincerely.

You nodded and he smiled. He sped up nearly rearranging your insides as he jerked you a little faster. You clenched hard as hell and squirmed. “T-too , much” you mumbled not even able form a proper sentence. “I know, just one more baby” Oliver said getting close himself. You kiss him softly as you near your climax. You bite down on his shoulder as you release on him and yourself for the second time and you whimpered in such a euphoric state. “Good boy….” Oliver said getting close. You weren’t even mentally there any more. He attacked your neck as he started to cum.

“Mmm fuck, gonna put my kids in you just like that” Oliver moaned as he came deep inside you. Both of your eyes rolled to the back of your heads. He whimpered softly as you rode him through his climax. You laid your head on his chest as he held you in his arms. You were going in and out still affected by the pain and the pleasure of your first time. Oliver on the other hand was smiling as he held you in his arms still inside you.

“Don’t pull out-“ you murmured. “I won’t baby” Oliver said holding you. “I love you baby” Oliver said. He made you look him in the eye as he said it. “I love you too” you said. He kissed you passionately then you laid back in his arms and put your head back in his neck. The rest of that hour was right there. Hopefully nobody saw…

[kechiwrites]

property lines

dark!steve rogers x neighbour!reader

kinktober countdown: day two (facefucking).

synopsis: your neighbour is inappropriate, and you aren’t quite sure how to broach the subject.

wc: 2.2k

cw: dark content, non con, oral (male receiving), femme language + afab!reader, pet names, internal victim blaming, pet names (sweetheart), a touch of misogyny

author’s note: day 2 brings us more dark!steve, i fear i may be incapable of writing him sincerely. he’s just a little too perfect. I like to take off a bit of the shine. thank you @katsukikitten u r my muse.

Your neighbour is inappropriate, and you aren’t quite sure how to broach the subject. Mostly because you can’t be sure if he’s doing it on purpose or if he’s just overly friendly. Maybe it’s the signals you give off, bringing a plate of thick, sweet, cheesecake brownies over to the recently sold house next door, hoping to make a new connection. Suburbia can be isolating, and with all of your friends shaking ass in the city, you need to branch out. It really isn’t the kind of home you figured a single man like Steven Grant Rogers would buy, but then again, you lived in your suburban palace alone, willed to you by your late grandmother and only in need of a few renovations.

He’d been so bright, when you first met him, with a perfect white smile and twinkling blue eyes. He’d been happy to accept the desserts, even happier to return the plate a day later, extolling the praise he and his poker buddies lauded on you over the taste. You’d shrugged it off, “The least I could do for a neighbour. I’m just glad you all liked them.” 

Secretly though, the compliments had thrilled you, especially once you’d gotten a glimpse at the aforementioned “poker buddies”, the whole lot of them, handsome, built, big. All too happy to fix leaky pipes and paint fences in exchange for chocolate cream pie or a dish of homemade lasagna. But Steven  - “Steve, please”  -  was your most loyal customer, always lending a hand, pausing during his early morning jog to check up on you while you watered your flower beds, asking how your book is going, what you do in that “big old house all by yourself” when you aren’t working on “the next great American novel”, of course (his words, not yours).

It’s fine at first, a little disarming to be at the centre of his white hot attention, burning your flesh like he had you under a magnifying glass on a perfect sunny day. But eventually it’s not fine, eventually Steve Rogers takes more and more steps over the property line of overly friendly and into the front yard of wildly overbearing. Eventually, Mr. Rogers insists on weekly visits, popping into your house by using the spare key under the mat he shouldn’t even know about. Slinging his muscled arm over you during the neighbourhood block party, and your neighbour’s son’s 5th birthday party, and the Fourth of July barbeque. He fixes your car without you asking, brings in your groceries when he sees you unloading them in your driveway, brings your mail to you during his daily jog. It’s helpful sometimes, yes, but it’s also suffocating. And you were going to set him straight. You were! But it’s hard, hard to stare into the face of a suburban god, the literal king of the neighbourhood and tell him no. It’s hard to tell him that he’s making you uncomfortable, that you’d like for him to stop being so goddamn friendly all the time. 

So maybe a little of it is your fault. Maybe you should’ve been clearer on your boundaries. Maybe, when handsome, strapping Mr. Rogers came to your front door to ask you to essentially cater one of his poker nights, you shouldn’t have stayed to serve the food, playing happy little housewife in front of Steve’s friends, bringing them cold beers from the fridge and sitting next to Steve, playfully making faces at his hand, then plating up dessert when he asked you to. But it felt good to have his attention. His favour. So when “the boys” start to head home, laying praise and amazement at your feet, you’re sufficiently buttered up for Steve to ask yet another favour of you. It’s not much, of course. Just a little help with cleanup. Then he’ll escort you home himself. After all, there are some real sickos out there.

So you agree. What’s the harm, right?

The harm, it just so happens, comes quickly after you finish drying the dishes Steve washes. You slide the last plate, towel dried as best you could, into his cabinets, sighing in contentment at a job well done. The harm is when Steve turns you around and presses you against the sink, water soaking into the back of your blouse, making the fabric cling to your skin. You stay there for a minute, not processing what’s happening, ready to laugh off another inappropriate joke from Steve. 

You don’t really get the chance.

Two heavy hands clap down on your shoulders, exerting pressure on you until you crumple to the floor, knees hitting the tile of Steve's kitchen painfully. You yelp, struggling against him, pressing, then beating your fist against his tree trunk legs. 

"Stev-" you choke on his name when your neighbour unzips his trousers before you, undoes the fly of the pair you helped him pick out, with him bent over your shoulder while you held his phone, his front pressed close to your back. Pulls his half hard dick out of pants starched and pressed with the iron he'd borrowed from you because his was "on the fritz" again. 

"Open up." He cajoles, and you pin him with an incredulous, confused stare. No. No. This is all wrong. He doesn’t act like that. Steve Rogers isn’t like that.

The hand he doesn't use to stroke himself grabs your jaw, squeezing until you open your mouth, squeezing til it hurts. A sharp, purposeful punch of his hips is all it takes for him to make use of the opening. All it takes to put every little joke, boundary crossing, and stray touch into startling, horrifying perspective.

“It was the baking.” He whispers above you. “Peggy never baked, which was fine.” He sighs above you like he isn’t pistoning his cock deep into your throat with reckless abandon. “But I missed it, y’know? And you, you bake how angels ought to, sweetheart.” 

Tears stream down your face while Steve uses you, dragging your dazed, crying face back and forth on his hard-on. On a particularly strong thrust, he broaches your throat. Your eyes roll up, until he can barely see the perimeter of your irises, and you warble out a miserable moan, begging, all while wrapped around his dick, for a reprieve. Your head is pinned to the counter behind you, and even though you shove against the muscle of his thighs, Steve brooks no quarter.

“Just take it,” he coos, like he wants you to swallow cough syrup, “it’ll be over soon.” his breath stutters when your lips brush against his balls. Steve moves one of his hands to cup the back of your head, keeping you as close as possible when he comes down your throat, groaning in pleasure while you struggle to swallow stream after bitter stream of his seed, lest you choke on it or fucking drown. 

He finally releases you, and you pull back so fast you bang the back of your head on his pristine white counters. The pain radiates through your scalp, grounding you in the moment, cementing you to the spotless linoleum floor of Steve Rogers’ kitchen. You’re both panting, eager to fill your lungs with gulps of air. 

“Whew.” He sighs, hands on his hips, like that took a lot out of him. “I didn’t mean to get so rough with you, just didn’t expect the struggle.” He chuckles, patting you on the head. “But you settled down quick, didn’t ya?” His tone takes on…contentment? Happiness? 

No. That’s not quite right. 

It’s pride. Steve is looking down at you, your spit and cum slick mouth, the weepy, watery state of your eyes, and the disarray of the hair he’d used as a handle, with pride.

Your stomach roils.

He bends low and you flinch away from him, smacking your head on the countertop again. He cocks his head at the involuntary movement, and smiles at you. A familiar, warm thing. One that made your heart flutter with pleasure, beat fast with your own surge of pride when he accepted a pie, or offered a compliment. Now it does the same, your heart speeds up, your palms itch curiously, and your brain doesn’t know if you’re happy or sad. Doesn’t know if it craves those smiles anymore. 

“Just wanna set you on your feet. C’mon.” He speaks quietly, like he’s soothing a frightened animal, and hooks his hand under your armpits, heaving you up with the same startling strength he'd used to face fuck the fight out of you.

“It’s okay.” You bleat, voice as wobbly and unstable as the pair of legs struggling to keep you upright. And it’s not, it’s far from okay, the taste of him lingers in the back of your throat and if you think about it for even a second more you’ll throw up all over his shiny floors, on those godforsaken pants.

“I admit,” he laughs, ducks his head with that small town charm he does so well, “I wanted to last longer. But you were too good.” He winks at you, like you share a secret. Like you’re in league with each other.

He staring, waiting for you to say something, arches a brow like it’s your line and you’re fucking up the show.

But there it is again, that smile, sunny and open, and so pristine.

“Let’s get you home.” He herds you towards his front door, hand glued to the small of your back, his pinky finger stroking the skin exposed by the riding up of your still wet shirt. The two of you walk into the balmy summer air, and the spaces in between the black night, punctuated with the occasional white streetlight, designate your path home. Some of your neighbours’ houses are still illuminated, their warm yellow windows denoting the presence of life. You wonder what goes on behind their doors, you wonder if someone is having a good night somewhere close to you.

You come across your door faster than you were prepared for, the cheery yellow paint job Steve and James had done for caramel apple pie, mocks you. The way he’d smiled in your face, touched you, laughed. Steve shifts next to you, holding onto your extensive tower of pyrex and tupperware, for an instant your blood runs cold at the prospect of Steve inviting himself in, like he’s done so many times before. Not to bring in groceries or put together a dresser, but to pin you prone to the carpet of your bedroom and smile at you.

“So!” He turns, “Same time next week?” You gawk at him, and when you don’t say or do anything, he stoops and slides your extra keys out from under your Garfield emblazoned doormat. The jingle of two, simple metal keys against the little bell shaped key-chain makes your head pound, your blood boil. He unlocks the door, and gestures for you to take a step indoors. You raise both hands, palms upturned so he can give the keys back, so you can hide them, or melt them, or flush them down the toilet. Instead, you get to watch him slip the key-ring into his pocket, before he places your dishes into your uplifted open palms. “I gotta say, the lemon bars were a hit.” He tweaks your nose between his thumb and forefinger, his compliment tempered by the greedy shine in his eyes. You nearly scratch your own eyes out when you get that pleased, soft tingle in your chest.

He smiles and you salivate. He compliments you and your heart responds. He’s proud and your brain tells you ‘I’m happy’.

Why hasn’t it gone away? Will it ever go away?

“Maybe those brownies again, the cream cheese ones?” His voice is hopeful, soft and pliant, like he’s worried you’ll say ‘no’.

Like there’s a world where he’d take no for an answer.

You nod, a jerky, quick gesture that rattles your brain around in your skull. “Sure. Yeah.” You answer, sweaty hands slipping against tempered glass and plastic lids. “Yes. Brownies.” Steve beams, clapping his hands together, once, loud, drawing your eyes to the brutish width of them.

“Fantastic. I can’t wait.” He jogs down your front steps, and the fist secured around your lungs loosens with every step he takes away from you. He pauses at the side walk, one foot still on your property, the other poised to leave it.

“We make a great team. Don’t we?” He turns to you, and this time, he isn’t smiling. This time, his eyes cut through the night and the streetlight and the foggy haze of misfortune clouding your brain.

And the fear finally comes.

You kick your door closed, and you lock your door, and you drop your pyrex and tupperwear and serving spoons in the sink and you lock your windows and you get into bed, still dressed for a poker night you had no business being at, and you pull the covers up and up and over your face.

But the fear doesn’t go away.

And neither will your neighbour.

god i want him so bad. tomorrow, captain soap.

find the rest of the masterlist here.

support city girls who bought $50 of baked cheesecake today, reblog what you like.

[queerfortress2]

GYAWD.....UR TRANSMASC!READER X SNIPER/MEDIC WAS SO WONDERFUL.....

if yew don't mind, id LOVE to see a soldier x a male reader, ANY demographic, any headcanons, I just.....i love the man so bad ｡⁠:ﾟ⁠(⁠;⁠´O⁠`⁠;⁠)💛💛

-✴️

heheh thank ya kindly ✴️ anon, also THANK YOU MORE MASCULINE READERS… i love writing them— mod engie

MALE!READER X SOLDIER

soldier 100% had issues at first. like, he is all about fulfilling the American Dream ™️. Why would he go for anything else? the moment *you* seemed more appealing than a housewife in the suburbs is when he started folding.

you entertained his crazy ideas and diligently followed his word as a commander. what else was he supposed to do? NOT like you? yeah okay. you being one of the only people who took him seriously is what had his heart beating. and he didn’t understand why.

maybe it was an ego thing? he tried to excuse it as that for awhile, but he found it hard to even be angry at you unlike the rest of his ‘soldiers’ (mercenaries). infact, he found himself to be around you much more often, giving a dumb smile as he does it. hes harsher on himself about it, more than you expect.

going to be honest? i think that might be the extent of it. soon enough he just reaches to his limit and gives up the rules. surely someone told him george washington is rumoured to have slept with a man and he immediately got over it.

me and my boyfriend, like the founder of our country intended it

i think hes outwardly affectionate once he gets over it! mostly because, LOOK AT MY SICK BOYFRIEND! hes AMAZING and BETTER THAN YOU

i think despite this he could also still be very bromancy. like. what do you mean making out isn’t normal dude things?? yes it is. im straight with a boyfriend (denial)

please teach him it’s okay to be a little gay guys

[yourlocalgayfrogboy]

Imagine 19-year-old Hawks trying to set up his 33-year-old milf of a mother with Endeavor.

Requested: No

Pairing: Enji Todoroki x reader Hawks x mother!reader

Word count: 666

Part: 1/?

"C'mon Endeavor I meant it's been awhile since you've been out on an actual date. Plus she's hot all the men and women fall for her. Except me because granted it'd be weird if I did. But that's besides the point. I told her I'd bring you around and she's even going out of her way and making enough food for you."

Hawks a 19-year-old pro hero currently climbing the ranks faster than mankind.

"Do you even know what 'no' means Hawks?"

Endeavor a 41-year-old pro hero currently ranking number 2 for the last 20 years.

"I know what it means, but I just happen to be very pressitant. Anyways, will you please come? I don't want to seem like I'm a liar to her. I've put that woman through enough trouble as is." Quirking his eyebrow.

'Damn bird' "Fine. I will meet this woman you just can't seem to stop talking about." He broke the mans rough exterior just to see him happy more like his mother happy.

****

Y/N POV

My son told me that he invited someone over for me to meet. Of course I'm skeptical but seeing his smile made me remember what this lavish life was all for. I had made a big dinner for this special guest that Keigo never seems to never stop talking about. I shook my head with smile while setting everything up. I'd tapped back in my American roots and made some of his favorites along with the mysterious mans favorite foods. One thing you learned from being a teen mom was knowing how to cook and how to work your butt off. I looked up towards the clock and saw that it was almost time that my idiot son would be coming home. "Guess I'd better get dressed appropriate clothing so I don't look like some simple housewife." I said to no one. I went to my bedroom which also happens to be the master. Stretching my back I went towards my closet choosing to dress less 'mom' like and more of a young person. "I guess maybe that flowy summer dress will be good. Maybe I'll also put my hair up in a simple ponytail." After dressing I heard the door open and I heard my son's voice along with a rough males.

"I'm home and I brought the guy I was talking about." Keigo yelled out. Walking out bringing the laundry basket from his room out. I can never stopping being 'Mom' I've been stuck in that position for the last 19 years. "Really...ugh do you have to do my laundry?" Such dread coming out of his voice. I raised an eyebrow at him.

"Well?" He looked between me and the guy for a few times and sped off. Anger quickly engulfed my figure, "Keigo Jackson Ross Takami! Get your ass back out here and so I swear to god don't give me attitude like your 13 again. I put you in this world I can easily take you out!" The teen dejectedly came back looking at me with his puppy dog eyes. "Show our guest some respect." I narrowed my eyes on him.

"But Mo-"

"Absolutely not." Lifting my brow at him.

He guestered towards the man, "Endeavor this my mom Y/N. Mom this is Endeavor other wise known as Enji Todoroki." The man stepped to me and shook my hand.

"Your his mom?" I nodded "Hats off to you for I'm guessing being a teen mom and raising whatever that is." Looking at what he pointed towards which was my son dancing with a broom.

"I tend to not question his ways and just simply go with it. Anyways I apologize for him. He's had it rough ever since he found at who his dad was and what that putrid excuse of man he is and what he did to me at the young age of 14. He found out 3 months ago and has been well doing that."

[lovingwanda]

I do not consent to my work being reposted, stolen or translated anywhere else.

₊ ˚ ⊹ #LOVINGWANDA 𓂃 ࣪ ˖ .ᐟ

ᴍɪɴᴏʀꜱ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛ.

a writing blog for anything and everything related to the Wanda Maximoff of the marvel cinematic universe, including my own collection of original and canon characters from different forms of media and literature. 3/7/24.

DIRECTOR'S HANDBOOK  ➮  blog content.

✎ Welcome to my writing blog, my name is moe, I'm 24 years old and use she / her pronouns.

✎ due to the nature of my blog, minors and ageless blogs are prohibited from interacting with me and will receive an immediate block. this blog and it's contents caters only to an adult audience.

✎ what I will write ⋮ male / female perspectives, fluff, wholesome content, dark and mature themes, etc.

✎ what I won't write ⋮ pedophilia, illegal age gaps, incest, non-con, abusive relationships, beastiality, etc.

DIRECTOR'S CUT ➮  my fanfics.

# I love you. I love you. I love you. ⋮ a fanfic oneshot about Satoru, Maggie and Wanda. Poly-relationship.

THE BOOKSHELF  ➮ fanfic recs.

#  I Heart You ⋮ Wanda x Vision

# Beautiful Miracle ⋮ Wanda x Reader - Bakery AU

THE STAR OF THE SHOW  ➮  characters list

# wanda "mishka" maximov ⋮ the scarlet witch, sokovian immigrant.

# dhalia paneshki / danielle peters ⋮ a russian immigrant with scarlet witch esque powers from the late 1970's

# audrey "georgina" hughes ⋮ a resident housewife of american arcadia with an NPC family.

# brynn summers / ayumi gojo ⋮ mystical (manwha) and jujutsu kaisen inspired oc. Satoru Gojo's twin.

# diva goldsmith ⋮ blood+ (anime and manga)

# empress bayan ⋮ elixir of the sun (Manwha).

# margaret "rosetta" nelson ⋮ stan lee presents: mosaic.

# martha / samantha ⋮ near the bone (novel)

# mei mei & ui ui ⋮ (wholesome and platonic sibling relationship only!) jujutsu kaisen.

# satoru jiro ⋮ marvel and jujutsu kaisen original character.

# pearlie ⋮ pearlie (tv show / book)

[yourmomxx]

M A S T E R L I S T

* · 　　 . .　 ★ 　　 ✧　 .. ˚ 　 * · . .　 ★·　　 ✧　 .

—

Outerbanks. ⊹ °. * ✧ . ✦　 . • ✺ ° ★ . ° .    ⋒

the birthmark on his cheek - jj maybank x male!reader

jj maybank relationship headcanons - jj maybank x male!reader

jj maybank relationship headcanons - jj maybank x female!reader

the art of making a house a home - jj maybank x male!reader

prom date - jj maybank x male!reader

glory and gore - jj maybank x male!reader

girl crush - jj maybank x male!reader | requested

so much for the larger couch - coming soon | jj maybank x male!reader

heal my shattered heart (tear it all apart) - coming soon | rafe cameron x reader

—

American Housewife. ⊹ °. * ✧ . ✦. ✺ ° ★ . ° .  

snow on the beach (weird but fucking beautiful) - masterlist

—

Criminal Minds. ⊹ °. * ✧ . ✦　 . • ✺ ° ★ .

hotch x plus size reader - requested

derek morgan taking care of you (smothering you) when you’re hurt) - requested

emily prentiss x wife!reader - requested

domestic evenings with aaron hotchner / spencer reid - nurse!reader | requested

accidentally revealing your secret relationship - aaron hotchner x reader | requested

—

Teen Wolf. ⊹ °. * ✧ . ✦　 . • ✺ ° ★ . ° .    ⋒

stiles stilinski falling in love with a chimera headcanon - stiles stilinski x male!reader

—

Celebrities. ⊹ °. * ✧ . ✦　 . • ✺ ° ★ . ° .    ⋒

madelyn cline social media au part 2 - fem!reader

lando norris social media au - fem!singer!reader

madelyn cline x fem!reader - requested

—

Random Shitposts. ⊹ °. * ✧ . ✦　 . • ✺ °

cat

mommy wanda

comfort characters

happy pride

make it make sense

b♡♡bs

just like other girls

the two people that made me realize I was indeed not straight

(maybe) unpopular opinions on thor: love and thunder

writer problems

tumblr design change

tumblr hates me

the eddie munson effect

jonathan byers in s3

love me a dilf

ed sheeran on tour

german bi panic

don’t worry darling

epic

violent night

couples of dreamworks>>

train em young

john wig

I’m back!

lorde >>

(anti) depressants

öbb

scream vi

ethan landry is bae

e.l. 🤝 l.d.r

plans - iq

new show, new father figure

buddie = destiel

office shenanigans

911 - 4.04

even more buddie

the big question - iq

flagged for violence

“just for fun”

tag list (?)

birthday

hs: lot

katy mixon

escape from reality

rwrb

maahp

cooliver fanfic?

cooliver fanfic.

lion king 2

charles leclerc

please send requests

making money - iq

christmas special fandom poll

mlp soundtrack

[candy-and-writing]

What A Triple Lutz Can Do

Dark! Bucky x Ice Skater! Reader x Dark! Steve

Summary: Steve and Bucky have found each other again, after everything they've been through. When Steve meets you at the Winter Olympics, he decides you're the perfect little doll for their plan.

Warnings: non con/dub con, stalking, drugging, kidnapping, male masturbation, pet names—kitten, oral sex (female and male), fingering, poly relationship (m/m/f), somnophilia, light bondage, more to be added as the story goes on

A/N: This is loosely based off @henchry​ post about Chris Evans dating an ice skater. I read it and instantly had this idea, I’ve just never posted it. I think I unintentionally used bunny by @buckybarney​ as inspiration in making final edits. They also helped me figure out how to make this moodboard, so thank you! Please let me know if you enjoyed this, I had a lot of fun writing this!

I am NOT responsible for your media content consumption. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and/or dark themes. By reading this work you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work posted on any third party app or website; if you are seeing this work anywhere other than tumblr and archiveofourown, it has been reposted without my permission.

Before the war, before Bucky had fallen off the train and Steve crashed into the ice, before the Avengers and before and the world made Steve Rogers harder—colder—he liked to call himself a hopeless romantic. He wanted to meet eyes with someone across a diner and feel the fireworks explode in his chest. He wanted to buy a girl flowers, he wanted to walk down the streets of Brooklyn while it was snowing with her hand warming his. He wanted to buy his girl a ring, he wanted to get married, have a family.

He thought he would get that with Peggy, but he missed his chance. When he woke up in another century, he thought for sure he would never get his happily ever after. The women today were so. . . brash. A lady was supposed to be kind, polite, and dutiful. He understood that times were different, but that shouldn't excuse the ungrateful attitudes.

Then he found Bucky again, and the crazy world he had been forced into didn't seem so hopeless anymore. 

Tony had received a call from the International Olympics Committee, formally inviting the Avengers to the Winter Olympics. They were in Italy this year, Milan and Cortina. It was the first Olympic Games to be held in two cities, according to Bruce.

The committee had asked Steve to conduct the medal presentations for ice skating and hockey. They wanted Thor to carry the torch for the opening ceremony, but he was off-world and unavailable.

So here Steve was, sitting in the Mediolanum Forum venue next to Sam so he could watch the ice skating events. He figured if he was going to be giving the winners their medals, he should see why they won.

The committee had given the team access to front row seating, and that's where he was when you came out.

You were the third skater, and the first American representative, to take the ice. Your hair was pulled into a braided braid low on the side of your head with a blue flower pinned above the bun. The little dress you wore was modest—the same shade of blue that matched your flower and a sleeveless neckline that connected to a sheer fabric for sleeves and a higher neck, the little flowy skirt stopping in the middle of your thigh. Lines of little jewels dipped along your bust, beads varying in size. You had makeup on, like all the previous girls, but yours was light and glittery—save for the ruby red lipstick, but even that looked classical on you. It reminded Steve of the makeup women would wear back in the thirties.

He was so focused on you that Sam had to elbow him in the ribs to get his attention. He shut his jaw then, listening to the way your name rolled off the commentator's tongue, the syllables lining and matching each other perfectly.

You were twenty-one, and this was your first time competing in the Olympics. You've competed in other national and international tournaments, and you've done good in them if he was understanding correctly. It made an odd sense of pride swell in his chest. You were skating to Disney's Beauty and the Beast.

You moved to the middle of the rink as the announcer informed the stadium who conducted and performed your piece. You had four quads set in your routine, two in the first half and two in the second. It got quiet in the arena as you raised your arm over your head and arched your back like a ballerina. Steve counted five seconds before the music started and you spun around slowly. You started to move your body and—

Oh. Oh.

Steve was sure his jaw had dropped to the floor. The way you moved was bewitching, beautifully languid yet articulate. It was like the music moved through you, coursing through your veins as you made it entirely your own, bringing something so utterly delicate and ethereal out of the melody. You made it show in your body, in your movements.

The first of your quads were coming up, something called a quadruple lutz. Steve didn't know what it was, but when you threw your leg back and jumped, spinning in the air before landing and the crowd erupted into applause, he figured you did it correctly.

Your feet glided across the ice as you skated backward, your muscles tensing—you were preparing for your next quad. You kicked your leg back and used it as momentum to jump, spinning and landing what the commentator called a quadruple flip. The crowd cheered again.

Your expression—the raw focus and determination hiding behind your eyes—was gorgeous. Your crimson lips were parted slightly, eyelids hooded as you brought your head up. The delicate expression, the way your shoulders tensed as you jumped and spun in the air once, twice, three times before you landed gracefully on your toes had the breath leaving his lungs.

It was art. You were a work of art. So beautiful he wanted to lock you behind a glass cage and put you on display. You commanded the ice as if you controlled it, with such a degree of intricacy that Steve thought if you jumped high enough or spun fast enough you would grow wings and fly away.

You were in your element. You kicked your foot back before bringing it forward, using it to start your jump. You spun in the air and landed on one foot, your other leg spread out and leading the twirl you used to end the jump. The stadium cheered, Sam said something about a triple axel.

Steve wished the song lasted forever, wished he could watch you forever, but soon there was a flute trilling and you slowed, circling back to the center of the rink and just like that—your performance was over. The crowd exploded into cheers, throwing flowers, stuffed toys, anything they had in their pockets.

You broke into a smile, your plump lips parting and bringing out your dimples. Steve swooned as you waved to the crowd, bending to pick up a rose. Your gaze met his, and he swore he felt fireworks erupt in his chest. You smiled at him before skating off the ice, hugging a man sporting a red lightweight jacket with the USA logo embroidered on the sleeve, his dark hair slicked back. Steve watched as you smiled at him, not missing the way he stared at your ass as you turned away.

Then, suddenly, you were in first place. Your eyes went wide and you jumped up, hugging the man in the red jacket—Steve assumed he was your coach. He heard your squeal above the rest of the cheers.

Even from where he was sitting, your eyes were bright, brighter than your smile. Steve was proud of you, pride swelled in his chest as he watched you speak with a reporter. His eyes stayed glued to you as you shook hands with the reporter, your coach walking you to the locker rooms. He watched you until he couldn't anymore.

A strange desire pulled at his heart as he pulled his Stark Pad out, looking you in F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s database.

--

After watching your performance every other skater seemed dull, incomparable, to you. The judges must have thought so, too. You stayed in first place, winning the competition.

According to F.R.I.D.A.Y, you grew up in Chicago, but you moved to Manhattan for college. You got a new coach, Adrian Tucker, who was a gold and silver medalist back in the nineties. You're a junior at NYU, majoring in Art History. You have an Instagram, some sort of social media Peter had been trying to convince him to get, and Steve created an account immediately just to follow you. You had pictures of yourself, of friends, of the rink, even a pair of ballet shoes.

So you did ballet, good to know.

The award ceremony couldn't come soon enough. The idea of being closer to you sent butterflies fluttering through his stomach. Ever since he had gotten him back, Steve and Bucky have been talking about settling down—creating a life with a girl and starting a family. But they haven't found the right partner, but maybe. . . ?

When he stood in front of you, he swore he almost stopped breathing. You were gorgeous. Your hair had been taken out of the bun, cascading down your shoulders in loose waves. Your makeup was still done the same, but he noticed light freckles dotting along the bridge of your nose. Your eyes sparkled up at him—good God, you barely stood past his chest—your painted lips parted in a smile as you took him in. He placed the gold medal around your neck, congratulating you. You whispered a small, "thank you, Captain," and Steve felt a spark of electricity jolt down his groin.

Your voice was light, melodic, quiet. You were respectful, something he valued in people, in women. He could almost imagine you posed as the perfect housewife. With the perfect husband—or husbands—with the white picket fence, the kids. He could imagine your belly swollen, the little children running around calling you 'mama'. You were young, right at that age where women would start becoming wives and mothers back in his day. The thought only made his cock harder as he watched you on the platform, waving to the audience with the biggest smile on your face.

As he sat back down next to Sam, he pulled his phone out of his pocket. He pulled up Bucky's contact and sent him a picture from your Instagram.

'I think I found her,' he typed.

--

Bucky remembered the first time he realized he was in love with Steve—he was sixteen. He had danced around with plenty of girls already but none of them ever really seemed to stick. He had saved up enough money to spend Steve's birthday at Coney Island, that was the day he made Steve ride the Cyclone, back when he was still skinny. He had bought Steve a hotdog, which a pelican attacked him over. Bucky was crying from laughter, face red and stomach aching, when he looked over at Steve. Something just clicked then.

The past couple of months, Steve and Bucky had been making plans to add a third partner into life. After all this time, fighting Nazis and being mind-controlled and saving the universe time and time again, they both agreed they deserved it—that they deserved a family. They had both been selfless for so long, was it so wrong to want someone to be selfless for them? To want someone soft that could share their love?

Steve and Bucky were great together—the love of each other's lives, in fact—but they shared an overwhelming need to dominate, to control. On and off the field. When they fucked they were ruthless, full of scraping nails and biting teeth. Fingertips that left bruises that lasted for days. They needed someone else, someone they could focus that control on, someone who could take them so gently and lovingly, a way they rarely took each other.

Then he got Steve's text. You were young, and it wasn't hard to find out almost everything he needed to know about you. Steve helped him use F.R.I.D.A.Y to figure out where you live—a small apartment that was close to your college campus. You could walk to class if the weather permitted it. It also wasn't too far from the ice rink you trained at. It was easy for Bucky to find a building across from your suite where they could watch you. You liked to keep your window open, let the sunlight in.

They took turns sitting on the roof of the neighboring building, looking through a pair of binoculars. They would watch you for hours—watch you do simple things like reading. That was Bucky's favorite, the way your lips moved ever so slightly as you read the words on the page. You enjoyed reading horror novels—Steven King, Mary Downing Hahn, an author named Chuck Palahnuik. A worn copy of Bram Stoker's Dracula and Mary Shelley's Frankenstein sat on your bookshelf. At first glance, Bucky never would have pegged you as a horror kind of girl, you were too sweet and too timid. As he continued to watch you through the cameras Steve had him install, though, he saw that you very much liked psychological thrillers. You would watch a show on YouTube about true crime and haunted locations, a couple of amateurs who didn't quite know what they were doing. They were funny, though. Steve and Bucky would watch you laugh as you stared at your phone, smiling to yourself.

You trained at a ballet studio in lower Manhattan, worked out at a gym a block away from that. They were quick to memorize your routine once they started. You'd wake up at five-thirty every morning and make yourself some breakfast. On Monday, Wednesday, and Friday's you hit the gym and the studio; you'd go to whatever classes you had that day, grab a coffee at the campus cafe, then head to the skating rink for two hours. Two and a half hours max. You went home, studied, and then you were left to your own devices. Sometimes you read, sometimes you baked and God, Bucky almost couldn't stop drooling at the thought of tasting your cooking. You'd watch television in your small living room and be in bed no later than eleven o'clock every night to start your day again.

One Monday morning, Steve and had followed you to the gym. They'd been doing that the last few weeks. At first, Steve reasoned it was so they could watch over you, in case you got into some trouble. Some mornings they planned on running into you on the sidewalk, pretending it was an accident—there was a flower cart along your route you liked to stop and admire, sometimes buying a bouquet of daisies for your little bachelor pad—but the timing never seemed right. Steve was never wearing the right shirt, or Bucky's hair was always a mess from the wind.

You took a cab, which Steve followed a couple of cars behind on his motorcycle. The air was brisk, the first signs of spring coming into the city. Some of the trees had started growing their leaves again, vibrant greens against the grey winter sky. He parked his bike underneath a plotted tree that had just started to turn, the tips of the leaves a bright green as blossoms began to bloom, pastel pinks against vibrant greens with petals blowing in the wind. He bought a newspaper from a vendor a couple of stores down and sat on a nearby bench, catching up with the world as he counted down the minutes. You would be in there for an hour and fifteen minutes almost exactly.

Steve almost couldn't sit still. He was itching to get his hands on you, to feel you. He and Bucky have been watching you for a long time now, waiting for the right moment to get their hands on you. Steve was growing impatient.

At forty-five minutes, his eyes began to flick up at the building every few minutes. He knew it wasn't time yet, but there was always a chance you got done early.

At an hour, his gaze hovered just above the paper. Ten more minutes, he told himself.

At an hour and twelve minutes, you emerged. Steve watched as you hugged your coat to your chest and began walking. The studio you danced at was only a block away, so you wouldn't have to be out in the cold for long. Still, Steve couldn't help but chastise you for not wearing something warmer. All you had on were a pair of thin leggings—that hugged your ass beautifully, he might add—and a compression tank top under your lightweight sweater.

Steve rushed to his bike, folding the newspaper in his hand and revving up the engine. He drove down the block, parking in front of a cafe across from the ballet studio. He watched you enter the studio and sat at a table, ordering a cup of coffee. He saw you through the floor-to-ceiling windows, your let stretched up over your head. He reached for his sketchbook and pencil, laying it out on the table before him.

The night of the Olympics, the first time after Steve had seen you, he stayed up all night drawing you. He found a video of your performance on the internet, watching it on repeat as he drew you in different positions. The first sketch he did was of you with your arm over your head, just before you started skating. He found he loved drawing the shape of your lips, so the next sketch was a portrait of your face. Your long lashes were hooded, eyes downcast and your lips parted slightly as the pencil scratched against the paper, your plump lips etched in charcoal. The expression Steve caught you in was oddly ethereal, the kind of innocence that Steve found absolutely breathtaking.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. Steve sighed, pulling the device out of his jeans. Cursing, he reread the message Sam sent, looking back up across the street. You were still in front of the window, leg propped up on a bar with your upper body reaching for your foot. He sighed, closing his sketchbook as he stomped toward his bike.

--

Steve and Bucky trudged back into the Compound, exhausted and irritated. Not only have they been unable to see you for a week and a half, forced to watch you through the cameras hidden throughout your apartment, but the mission had been a complete bust. They had been sent away to Northern Peru, where Fury had given them intel about a group of HYDRA smugglers shipping illegal weapons into the country. Unfortunately, Steve and Bucky spent twelve days in a cramped, boiling building across from the target's warehouse and managed to find nothing before Fury called them back.

Steve was sweaty, Bucky hadn't taken a shower in a week, and they missed you. Bucky wanted to touch you, he wanted to kiss you until you were breathless. He watched you on his phone when he could, often opting to watch the camera feed than to sleep.

Once they were in their suite, Steve stripped his uniform off, leaving it in a heap on the floor to pick up later. Right now he just wanted to feel clean. He turned the shower on and peeled his boxers off as Bucky undressed, Steve stepping below the showerhead. The warm water felt nice against his taut muscles, his shoulders relaxing under the water pressure. He watched the dirt and grime from the mission get washed away, down the drain in muddy-grey color.

As he massaged shampoo through his hair, his thoughts wandered back to you, fingers itching to run against your skin. The way your lips always looked so soft, how utterly delicious you would look with them wrapped around his cock. The sweet little noises you would make as he forced himself down your throat—you were so small, it wouldn't take much to make you choke on him.

Steve groaned as his fist wrapped around his length. Almost two weeks without imagining you on your knees, imagining your mouth on him and he was oh so sensitive. He cursed, running his thumb over his slit. He pictured your tongue dragging against his girth, your wrecked expression as you struggled to take him deeper, as Bucky struggled to fit himself in behind you. He fisted himself faster, gasping out your name.

"Yeah, baby," he mumbled to himself. "Just like that. Fuck."

He could only imagine how beautiful you would look when you came. Your skin sweaty, hips bucking, your innocent little eyes rolling to the back of your head as you squealed. Oh, you were definitely a squealer. They would make you cum over and over and—

He bit back a moan as he came, hot white spurts coating his stomach as he slowed his movements, nerves on fire. He sighed, rinsing himself off before he turned the water off. He was still hard, he wasn't sure he'd be able to get himself off.

The tips of his fingers buzzed as he redressed himself and Bucky hopped in the shower. Steve didn't know if it was the stress of the mission or the adrenaline you gave him, but he couldn't wait anymore. He didn't have the patience to wait anymore.

He was watching the camera feeds in your apartment when Bucky came out of the bathroom. All it took was one look from Steve—they already had it all planned out, they just had to put it into motion.

--

You struggled to unlock your door, twisting the key in the lock a few times, cursing as you pushed your shoulder against the door, stumbling as the door swung open. You managed to catch yourself before knocking over your vase of daisies, straightening as you waited for your world to stop spinning.

You knew it had been a bad idea when you agreed to go out tonight. You're such a lightweight and after just three shots and half a glass of wine, you're going to have a killer hangover in the morning. God, and it's three a.m. But Annie had begged you to come with them. You haven't hung out with her in so long, you were desperate to see her again. You just wished she hadn't dragged you out to a bar.

You dropped your handbag on your little dining room table, opening the refrigerator to pour yourself a glass of orange juice. You drank half the glass in a couple of gulps, letting out a sigh as you set the glass down. As you moved to pull your phone out of your purse, you heard the floorboards creak, like someone was taking a step.

You froze, looking down the hall. The boards in your bedroom creak like that when you step down on a certain spot, but you've been in the apartment long enough to learn where it is exactly and step around it.

As quietly as you could, you made your way down the hall, checking the bathroom. You've seen enough horror movies in your life to know never to close the shower curtain when you weren't using it, so with a quick glance you knew the room was empty.

Your bedroom was at the end of the hall, the door cracked open. You walked in, carefully looking around. Your closet door was open, the windows were closed, you turned and looked towards your dresser mirror and—

You saw the figure behind you before you could react. Your eyes went wide, their hand coming up to cover your mouth before you could muster a scream. Your hands flew up to the hand, legs kicking out as the intruder dragged you out of your bedroom. You screamed into the hand, thrashing as you felt a sharp prick in your neck.

"It's alright," they cooed. "Shhh, it's okay, doll. You're just gonna go to sleep for a little while, okay?"

You shook your head frantically, tears streaming down your face as you felt your body getting tired. You blinked furiously, trying to fight the sleepy feeling. Your muscles felt like dead weight, you stopped kicking your feet as your grip on the man's cold hand went slack.

"That's a good girl," he crooned. "Just relax, kitten. I'm not gonna hurt you."

Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth. Your vision blurred, and then everything went black.

[toongrrl-blog]

Pink Power Rankings (Pt. 1)

Hi I am here to look at famous pink outfits in film and TV history and figure out: is pink a power color for this character? I choose to leave out obvious ones like Pink Power Ranger because, duh it’s in her name and this is gonna be a long list. Also avoiding real-life figures and onscreen depictions of real life figures because keeping it short (and I don’t have the time)

Pictured above are the bridesmaids at First Daughter Luci Baines Johnson’s wedding in the 1960s. 

Mimi Tachikawa

She is the most obvious pick from Digimon and the girl most decked out in pink. To paraphrase this video from The Take: there was once a show about a strange world beyond our own, somehow a group of preteens were pulled into this world not of their accord, including a young 10 year old girl. Along with her friends they were exposed to the elements and fought monsters out to harm them, she was sexually harassed by two clearly adult digimon, uncomfortable with the elements, often had to put up with toxic masculine BS, and was often snarked at by the story and even some of her own friends for being so girly and into pink. Of course some audiences and the story were overcome with sympathy with this girl pulled away from a familiar world...

Just kidding! They weren’t and some audiences even gave her a lot of shit and this has only been recently examined. For a while Mimi Tachikawa had a problem that seemed to be well known by a lot of female characters, like Carmella Soprano, Betty and Megan Draper, Margaret Sterling, and yes Skyler White. Put a flawed, complicated woman character alongside more charismatic (and male) characters and she will be disliked (despite the audience being more likely to be she than the menfolk held up as icons). 

This is sad because looking back, Mimi was truly a badass all along: she sticks up for herself, speaks up for herself, she is unapologetic about her love of pink and girly things, she is quick to tell guys when they are getting in her space, she’s honest, she lets Tanemon go on and fight with only a sincere question if she really is going to while the others hold their Digimon down, she stands up against the Numemon who were harassing her and her friends, and she was funny as hell. Sadly it took a long while for fans to grow up but many of us, especially girls, reclaimed her as our own. It also helped that Mimi came before girly icons like Elle Woods, Leslie Knope, and Joan Holloway and also before the boom in Gen X and Millennial women contributing to comedy and starting their own stand-up specials and movies and TV.

Power Ranking: 10, all because she held her own, no matter the haters and was glad to see us no matter how odd. 

Karen Wheeler

Another complicated lady, this time older and from the 1980s. This is Karen Wheeler of Hawkins, Indiana whose children are off on their own adventure. She is trying to tap into her sexual power here. It’s dicey because the man in question is a young man and she is a unhappily married affluent housewife in the suburbs; she agrees to meet him at the motel for “private swimming lessons” and does herself up in a way inappropriate for swimming lessons (in Scarlet Letter Red to boot!), only to be stopped by the sight of her lazy husband sleeping on the Laz-E-Boy with their youngest child Holly on his chest. This season sees Karen open up to her two older children over the patriarchy and saying goodbye to a best friend and girlfriend after confessing his love for her.

Power Ranking: 6, because her sexual power was on shaky ground and only based on her looks and attention from a man but she shows some character development that season. 

Nancy Wheeler

This look was a game changer, but Nancy is no stranger to pink and preppiness. Here she is wearing an outfit that recalls the postwar “Boyfriend Shirt” from Brooks Brothers for the female collegiate set and it’s updated with long loose but pinned hair and designer (or mock) jeans. In this outfit she goes monster hunting with her younger brother Mike’s best friend’s older brother and Nancy’s classmate, Jonathon Byers and squares off with slut-shaming police officers and a mother who chastises her for lying about her whereabouts and losing her virginity while Nancy’s best friend Barb Holland is missing and she also tells off boyfriend Steve for trying to cover his ass by not participating in the police investigation. This is the look (which can easily double as office wear) when you want to go straight from school where you have an impeccable GPA to monster hunting in your neck of the woods to find the whereabouts of your best friend and for fighting the patriarchy. 

Power Ranking: 8, this is a girl on the move as we can see with her rolled up sleeves. 

Eleven

The Iconic Look, the look where she made a boy wet his pants, found two missing kids, broke a bully’s arm. The Polly Flinders dress would alter the way we see girls in dainty pastel pink dresses. 

Power Ranking: 10, can you do all that without touching someone?

Barb Holland

The most tragic look for this was the sweater that Barbara Holland (1967-1983) wore when she was taken by the Demogorgan and killed. This was the look where she was the recipient of a wet willie from a boy who looked down on her and her best friend who was dating his popular friend, the look where she accompanied her best friend reluctantly to the popular boy’s party, and where her friend turned her back on her concerns. This is the look of a passive and traditional (to her detriment) femininity. She did gain a huge following who cried foul over her fate. 

Power Ranking: 4, points up for the fandom and devotion but she wasn’t empowered. 

Erica Sinclair

That was depressing, let’s go to the girl who embodies America: Hawkins resident wise-ass, the girl who kept her observations and words as tight as her corn rows, and her planning as precise as her perfectly well done baby hairs (Black readers, feel free to correct me as I document her fabulousness), My Little Pony nerd and Economics wonk, and American Heroine. Erica sassed her way into Stranger Things with a raised eyebrow and a lusciously girly girl wardrobe that stands out and fits in with her Midwestern environment. She’s no stranger to pink and she commands attention and the best service at Scoops Ahoy and manages to get several ice cream dishes for free (the most elaborate ones) before getting in on finding the secret Soviet military base. Girlfriend manages to deal with teenage shenanigans, assassins, creatures from another world, near-death experiences, almost being captured by foreign enemies and the most awkward sing-a-long ever. She doesn’t seem to have lost her child-appropriate enthusiasm for games even when telling off old balding men for getting her age right.

Power Ranking: 10, you can’t spell America without Erica

Joan Holloway

Pink is an appropriate color for the resident femme intellectual of Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce, it shows that Joan is willing to defy “the rules” of fashion for redheads (she also wears red) and it ties into her 1950s persona of the bombshell who is trying to get married to a man who’d move her out to the upper-middle class suburbs and she wouldn’t have to work. That was Joan at the beginning: over time she started to own her natural independent streak and her willingness to buck expectations of her based on her gender and looks but also deals with the same men who ogle her, disrespecting her intellect, her hard work ethic, and even her body (fuck you Greg Harris). In this fuchsia number (still in the pink family), she sets up a luncheon with a colleague (Peggy Olson) where she pitches the idea of them setting up a production company with their names, while Peggy didn’t take, Joan starts her own “Holloway & Harris” with her babysitter and mother. Sealing her end as a strong, productive, independent woman who learned to own herself as she was. 

Power Ranking: 10, men may like scarves but women like not being tethered to men. 

Betty Draper Francis

Meet Elizabeth Hofstadt Francis and her ex-husband Don Draper (actually Dick Whitman), for about 10 years of marriage, they have enjoyed a union where they looked like a couple right out of a magazine, he being a square jawed handsome self-made man with an athletic build who often is compared to old-school movie stars like Tyrone Power or Clark Gable or Cary Grant and she, a beautiful model from a wealthy family in the Main Line area of Philadelphia who studied anthropology at Bryn Mawr and speaks fluent Italian and is often compared to Grace Kelly (and other Hitchcock Blondes). But the interior of their perfect colonial in the suburbs hid an ugly reality where she suffered from ennui and was a brat to her kids while he gaslighted and cheated on her with other women, more modern women, like she wasn’t enough. Eventually she found out his true identity and floored that she had been living a lie and gave up her last name for an imposter, she divorced him and married a man she met at her husband’s work function. 

About three years later, Don is happily married with a younger and much more modern woman (Megan Draper) while Betty is married to a man who loves and accepts her even at her worst but to her chagrin has put on a lot of weight (a blow to a former model who grew up being raised that weight gain or being fat was the worst thing a woman could be) and she hasn’t dealt with her unhappiness in a productive manner. 

For a while well into 1968, she accepted the extra pounds (although looking like she lost some) and coming middle-age and even dyed her hair black, until her new husband tells her he plans to run for office and as he was excitedly recounting what is to be done, says “Everyone will see you” not knowing that his young, vain wife would read this scenario differently and after assessing her new look to an old evening gown of her’s, she sped up her weight loss and returned to her slim and blonde look that turned heads. Soon she takes a drive to her son’s summer camp and runs into her ex-husband and they feel the old spark and sleep together; it is there she tells him that he as a lover is different than him as a husband and admits about the young wife she looked down on, “That Poor Girl, she doesn’t know that loving you is the worst thing to get to you”. Next morning she has breakfast with her new husband, who is none the wiser, while Don heads back to the city. But is Betty really happy?

Power Ranking: 7, not satisfied but has received some closure about her relationship with her ex-husband. 

Sally Draper

This is Sally in her birthday party dress. On that day her father built her a pastel colored playhouse, Mother prepared treats for the adults and kids for her birthday party, she and her friends played out their parents’ (admittedly shitty) marriages at the playhouse, her father goes out to get her birthday cake from the bakery and returns only with a golden retriever named Polly, while her unhappy mother fumes about her husband doing something shitty and humiliating and not being allowed to ream him out because he brought a dog and that makes him the good guy. 

Power Ranking: 5, she gets a dog but is still young and dependent on her messy parents. 

Rachel Menken

Meet Rachel Menken Katz, running into her ex Don Draper while he is out with his latest mistress and she with her husband Tilden Katz. She would end this series as dying from cancer after having two young children and running her father’s department store and instead of flowers, requesting that donations be made for a Jewish hospital in the Jell-O Belt. In 1960 she fell in love with an ad man who proved to have been miserable and having lost his mother during his birth, as she did, she also competed in what was called “a man’s world” at a time when women were relegated to assistant roles at best and she split from him when he wants to run away with her, mostly because he wants to run away from his issues and not because of his feelings for her. As her sister Barbara said, “she had everything”.

Power Ranking: 8, she ends up dying young but she manages to “have it all”. 

Megan Draper

Meet Megan Calvet, later to become Megan Draper. How does she become the next Mrs. Draper? At this timeline, Don Draper is dealing with life after divorcing Betty Draper (now Francis) and is trying (and failing) to quit alcohol and trying to date the intelligent, warm, no-nonsense, and close-to-his-age Dr. Faye Miller. But that night Megan, who noticed she caught her boss’s eye, decides to make the moves and in a uncharacteristically demure (many fans thought she looked frumpy here) but at worst basic outfit, she sleeps with him. This is the outfit for a quickie that later won his heart and has him pop the question and she becomes part of Creative at their work. But is this really for the best?

Power Ranking: 7, she married Don Draper but then again she married Don Draper. 

Peggy Olson

Meet Peggy Olson, who officially walked away from the things holding her back from feeling at ease with herself and her choices. After a whole season where the priest impressed by her skills has learned that Peggy had a child out of wedlock and put him up for adoption and starts pressuring her to admit her “sin” while Peggy would rather move on with her life, she tells him they don’t see eye to eye and walks away from the Catholic Church and while the Cuban Missile Crisis is going on, she lays down in her bed with the pink comforter and pillows with her pink floral nightgown, she lays herself down to sleep and prays with a contented look on her face.

Power Ranking: 9, she’s not fully absolved of the issues plaguing her but refusing to wear a hairshirt and beat herself up? Awesome. 

Dawn Chambers

Meet Dawn Chambers, from 1966-1968, she was the only black person (let alone black secretary) at the uber-white Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce (pun intended for the decor) and like many minorities in positions occupied by less marginalized people, Dawn had to keep her head low and not stand out (despite some co-workers considering her as remarkable as a sore thumb). But then in 1968, she made the mistake of punching in for a co-worker and they get caught by Joan Holloway (and it’s so horrid, thank God Don Draper intervened on Dawn’s behalf and Pete reminds them of how the ad agencies are being looked at for their minority quotas). This was also the season where Dawn took to wearing blazers over her blouses and skirts or dresses and here Dawn is wearing a conservative grey blazer over a pink shirt with ruffles down the front and a red plaid skirt when her work life alters for the...better? It is there that Joan sternly gives her the promotion of keeper of the keys, title not pay, and Dawn tells her that she decided she doesn’t care whether other people in the office hate her but she doesn’t want to disappoint Joan, who withholds any warmth or approval. The next season we see Dawn stand up to a entitled and mediocre white man (Lou Avery) and first she is moved to reception and then she takes over Joan’s post as Office Manager (With her own office! And the salary!) while Joan goes upstairs to her own office in Accounts. 

Power Ranking: 10, this is a big fucking deal for a Black Woman in a mostly-White corporate setting during the 1960s. 

Trudy Campbell

1970, Trudy Vogel Campbell has remarried her estranged husband Pete and they are moving out to Wichita, Kansas with their young daughter Tammy where he will work a plush job for Lear Jet (and they are being flown out by them!). 

For the past ten years, Trudy and Pete have had a difficult marriage where he was dissatisfied with the choices he made and that he really didn’t want to marry her, and Trudy had to deal with being a woman with fertility issues at a time when motherhood was seen as a primary goal for women and women who didn’t have kids or chose not to were seen as weird at best. They had to deal with pressure from her father to adopt, his parents snotty issues, she had to deal with her husband’s attitude, his envy of others, and his cheating. But Trudy laid her boundaries and was able to stand up to her husband, without losing her gracious manner and her zest for society. She tried to be a supportive wife and she found some common ground with him, when it comes to common decency and politics, and they make an amazing pair on the dance floor. 

Then came the end after their divorce: they behave more amicably, he’s more involved with their young daughter, he fights for Trudy, and he gives an amazing pitch for her to come back. She takes him back but lets him know that she isn’t the same girl he married a decade before and she looks at things for how they are. 

Plus she is gonna rule Wichita!

Power Ranking: 8, she accepts there will be compromises but states her boundaries and has them met and will be a society wife. 

Elle Woods

Who shows up in court in LA hot sandals, a pink tote bag for her canine companion Bruiser, long glossy hair, and a curve-hugging but professional power dress in shocking pink? Elle Woods. After trying hard to be taken seriously by her fuckboi ex Warner and her snotty, neutral toned Harvard classmates and learning that her Professor got her in an internship for a important lawcase (where they defend her fellow Sorority Sister) just for her looks, she leans into both her natural intelligence, expertise, and love of pink and all things girly to defend her friend and solve the case. 

Also can we talk about how both Legally Blonde and Bridget Jones’s Diary are both movies where the attractive blonde protagonist is humiliated by showing up for a costume party in a Playboy Bunny costume under false pretenses and she deals with sexual harassment and being underestimated regarding her intellect? But LB ages better because it kinda pokes fun at the beauty myth more and is more inter-sectional and Elle finds supportive women to add to her posse of supportive sisters and she supports other women in turn.

Power Ranking: 10, Sisterhood and owning your personality quirks and interests and boldly defending others is always a win. Case Dismissed. 

Lorelei Lee

The ultimate Pink Power icon and the one who set the path for all femme-y and cute loving blonde protagonists with wit and ambition. This is the song for a woman who sings about how transactional heteronormative relationships in the mid-century were and how the performative actions of men in heterosexual relationships don’t do much to improve women’s lives, like paying the rent and that they would use women for their own uses and could be shallow enough to dump women if they lost their beauty and/or got older, so for insurance make sure you get money or rather things that can be hocked and worn with pride, like diamonds. Tom & Lorenzo covered this in their One Iconic Look series and this sequenced has been spoofed several times in Hey Arnold!, Crazy-Ex Girlfriend, Birds of Prey, and most famously by Madonna, and it is the look for women who not only feel good about their curves but also want to show them off.  As T&Lo said about the ditzy Lorelai and her savvier friend Dorothy Malone (Jane Russell):

These women were all about power, control, and looking out for each other. Men were side stories or play things.

And in the repressive Fifties it was outrageously pink and smelt of female sexual power (pink pussies). 

Power Ranking: 11, hawwwwwwww that’s what you get for having an iconic and referenced look!

Marge Simpson

The most nostalgically remembered outfit in cartoons and the most written about in think pieces and articles by Millennial women who grew up watching The Simpsons and the rest of what the Animation Renaissance had to offer. In “Scenes from the Class Struggle in Springfield”, the family goes out to the outlet mall in Ogdenville where Marge and Lisa happen upon a beautiful pink Chanel suit that even left my cartoon-apathetic mother enthusiastic and Marge is soon seen by a old high school friend who mistakes her for being wealthy and Marge goes along with the ruse and is invited to Country Club activities with the ladies where she shows up in several talented alterations of her suit (until getting destroyed by Santa’s Little Helper, RIP Iconic suit), she also gives her family a hard time about how they don’t fit into that Country Club Scene and then when forced to see how she hurt them (and even Baby Maggie), turns around and tells them she loves Homer’s sense of humor, Lisa’s compassion and outspoken human rights politics, and just loves Bart (even if she can’t figure what she likes about him). 

This also happens to be another instance where Marge sacrifices a social life (she’s not seen with a lot of friends who have her back, aside from a brief time with Ruth Powers), chances for social mobility, and her own self-improvement for her family. While we love a mother who prioritizes her family’s autonomy, we still kind of hope that she didn’t have to sacrifice her own identity for her family. 

Power Ranking: 8, points for the iconic suit and it’s layered meanings. 

Bridget Jones

A rare move of power for a normally powerless and insecure woman and in a shocking pink blouse and black slacks that show off her hourglass curves and go with her coloring. 

Pink is not a color Bridget isn’t familiar with, especially with this deleted scene that shows her in Pink Passivity (and it looks delicate on a blonde with blue eyes and pale skin but could risk her fading but I as a brunette would look popping!). But here after entering a relationship with Daniel Cleaver (who is a walking red flag) and finding out he was keeping her as his side-ho to his skinny, bitchy American girlfriend and colleague and I have my problems with Bridget Jones as a series (which would take several parts) and I can talk about how Peggy Olson and Joan Holloway were a lot better written versions of her (klutziness and awkwardness but succeeding!). But this is a huge power move where Bridget wears a simple outfit that owns her looks (even being affirmed by a older and previously antagonistic co-worker that she’s actually thinner than the average woman and she can’t back down, like ever) and is able to quit her job for a better and more glamorous job and tell off her ex-boyfriend for how poorly he has treated her. And all her co-workers smile off as she walks off in triumph after telling Daniel she’d rather wipe Saddam Hussein’s ass. I kinda wish I could go Joan Rivers on Daniel here. 

Also points on that bolder shade of pink. 

Power Ranking: 10, no one gets to burn a cheating, manipulative bridge like that (and yes she is conventionally prettier than I but that’s not the point). 

Alice Macray

I know, I should shut my mouth and wear beige but my personal color analysis says I’m a winter person.

It’s an interesting power move, albeit within the confines of patriarchal society and even the only defiance that wouldn’t get her tsked at because she is serving the Male Gaze. And yet it’s a natural part of her characterization in this part of the series: the traditional housewife stubbornly keeping her pedestal and fighting to stall progress for other women pursuing other paths (part of wearing beige and shutting up as Mother of the Groom is to allow the Bride to take center stage) but it’s also a path she had to take what with being a dyslexic in a less informed and intolerant era and growing up in a sheltered, conservative Catholic family. This is also the outfit she wears when she spots a younger wife being forcibly yanked by her husband, alluding that the patriarchy isn’t benevolent. 

This isn’t her first time in pink, or even a pink and blue combination: she wears pink when she goes and gives out bread to defeat the feminists at the Illinois Legislature, she wears pink and blue when Bella Abzug calls on her and her peers’ hypocrisy, she drinks a Pink Lady when she is given a “Christian Pill” and it matches her lavender dress. It’s also ironic: pink, white, and blue are the colors of the Transgender pride flag and she is defending White Heternormative Cisnormative Christian Values TM and it’s also a color combo that shows up in the beauty parlor she frequents where she and her friends wring their hands over working women gaining more ground and feeling that their comfortable privilege is being taken away by women who sully their hands working outside the home while they stay home with their children in their coordinated pastels and have maids of color keep their worlds nice and orderly. 

But she is wearing a pink maxi dress with a high neckline and a very prominent hat that provides very ladylike shade for her fair skin, just like our first Pink Power Girl Mimi Tachikawa, and like Mimi, Alice will take a life-altering short trip to Wonderland. And like Pink Power Girl Eleven, she finds her true hidden power and starts wearing more saturated colors as time goes on. 

Power Ranking: 5, she is on her way to breaking out of her little safe world and doing more than subverting a wedding tradition. 

[xo-xojj]

Just like that

(Gif is not mine)

Oliver Otto x Male Reader

Desc: none Fr, just smut, mdni

Type: pure smut

Warnings: pwp(porn without plot) Bttm!reader top!oliver, no protection, (be safe) cream pie.

Enjoyyyy

Oliver had you bent over his desk and was pounding into you. When he first got back from teen helpline that was the first thing he had you do. Strip, and bend over. He was sliding in and out of you at such a fast and harsh pace you felt like you were gonna lose it.

You had to be quiet since his family was in the house and he didn’t need his parents or siblings knowing what was happening. You covered your math with tears threatening to fall. It was a pleasure you had enjoyed from Oliver. And you didn’t get this type of treatment often.

“You’re so fucking hot sitting there letting me fuck you so good” Oliver said. You felt over the moon at his words. It was so hot. “F-f-faster, please” you begged. Needing more of that sensation. He gripped your hips and instead of just going in a little and out a little he pulled out all the way slamming himself back into your sensitive hole and your prostate making you jump. You whined through your mouth.

“Be quiet, (y/n/n). Or i won’t let you cum, it’s a simple deal baby” Oliver said rutting into you as a fast but smooth speed. The tears that threatened to spill came flowing as he pounded deeper in your stomach. You tried to reach for hm only to feel his muscular. He grabbed your hand holding it and rubbing over with his thumb.

“Your taking my cock so well pretty boy, you think you deserve an award?” Oliver said still fucking you. Nodded knowing if you spoke you would whimper. “Words, baby, I know you can do it” Oliver said still fucking you deep. “Mmm fuck yesss” you whimpered. “Good boy” Oliver said before pulling out of you with a loud pop sound.

As soon as he pulled out your legs gave in and buckled. He caught you before you hit the ground. You tried to catch your balance. He held you in his arms before asking, “do you wanna ride me?”. You nodded and he slowly walked you over to his bed and then laid down letting you get on top.

You slid him into your sensitive hole trying to hide your whimpers. You slowly started to grind on his cock making him moan. You placed a hand on his chest to give you balance. He snaked his hand on your waist to also give a little support.

The grinding turns into bouncing. And you start rolling your eyes from the pleasure. He’s leaned up against the head board of his bed so you grab onto his shoulders and hair gripping them both. He cupped one side of your face kissing you. You kissed back.

You suddenly moved faster, as Oliver grabbed your hips moving your ass up and down on his cock. You clench. He whimpered. “S-so tight” Oliver moaned. He was so close, he needed you to cum first though.

So he put his hand on your cock as you rode him and your back arched like crazy. Looks at you, bouncing on his cock, and he grinned at you seeing you in pure bliss. He was happy to know that he was your and you were his. Because he couldn’t even imagine sharing something like this with anybody else.

You soon squirted your cum all over his chest clenching hard on his cock. He kissed you hard trying not to moan has he exploded inside of you. He thrusted up into you not wanting any to leak. “You’re mine” he whispered thrusting into you, riding your climax out and kissing your neck.

You fell into his chest finally able to rest. With his seed rested in you and you both wore out, you guys passed out just like that.

[xo-xojj]

Supernatural

(Not my gif!)

Oliver Otto x Male Reader

Request: Nope

Desc: When reader is smitten by his smart and loving boyfriend, reader falls hard and just pure fluff (Based on Supernatural-Ariana Grande

Type- pure fluff

Warnings: nothing besides kissing and cuddling♥︎

Hope you enjoy <3

You had never been more love sick. It was ridiculous the possesion that man had on you. But you dudnt even mind at all. He wasnt perfect but god he was damn near close. He was smart, protective, kind, funny, (secretly a golden retriever), and he genuinely cared.

And oliver couldnt be more smitten. You were his first boyfriend so while it took both of your parents some gettung used too, you two loved every second of it. And dont regret anything.

You two layed on his couch cuddling, and you laying on his chest. He was trying to find a musical to watch but while searching he noticed his boyfriend slightly dozing off. He quickly turned on a musical which ended up being wicked. He laid his head back and fell asleep with you.

It was about 12:13 and you slowly opened your eyes. To a snoring Oliver. He was adorable. And you were helplessly in love. It was crystal clear that you were in awe with your boyfriend. The movie was off and you nudged your boyfriend softly. His snoring came to a pause. “mhm, yeah whats up“ he said blinking and lifting up. “nothing, its just twelve and we should probably head up.“ you said lifting your head up to look at your boyfriend. ”mhm your right“ he said. You started to get up but only get pulled back down by oliver and sat on his lap. You giggle pressing your lips against his. He held you by your waist kissing your neck softly and then kissing your lips softly. You kiss hid jaw leaving hickies all over him. You pull apart slowly. “I love you (y/n)” Oliver said. You pulled your hands from his now messy hair and cupped his face. “I love you too, otto” You say before getting up. He lifts up folding the blanket you two were cuddled under. You walk to the kitchen throwing the bag of popcorn away making sure not to make a noise since his family was sleeping. But then you feel hands sneak around your waist. You jump but calm down knowing its Oliver after he lays his head on your shoulder. “come on up to bed with me” he said kissing your neck softly. “let me just clean this up” you say emptying out the rest of the popcorn. He waits a couple seconds before picking you up bridal style and taking you upstairs. You hit him on his chest slightly giggling. He lays you down on the bed and lands right on top of you. You giggle as he kissed you little more. He giggled with you before laying did wn and cuddling you to sleep. This even more made you feel as if the love you had for him felt...... 𝐒𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐥.

[xo-xojj]

Theese walls

(gif is not mine)

Oliver Otto x Male Reader

Request: Nope

Desc: Oliver and reader say somethings that if these walls could talk, they would tell them to break up. (song inspo from These Walls-Dua Lipa)

Type: Angst

Warnings: Cursing, Alleged Cheating, Argument, Angst, BitterSweet Ending

Enjoy!

"Ya know what (Y/n) your always on some bs when it comes to me and Cooper" Oliver spat at you. "All Ive asked you was instead of spending so much time with Cooper maybe spend some with your boyfriend" You said. You guys had been arguing in his bed room for about 20 minutes and it wasnt pretty. Insults were thrown left and right. Maybe, you had come off a little jealous. But thats because you were. You fet like he had spent more time with cooper than with you. And it wasn't that you didnt like Cooper. It was just something about him that made you insecure about yourself around cooper. And you possibly felt like you were loosing Oliver.

“Geez (Y/n)! You can be just so dull sometimes.“

Oliver said and while it hurt, you came back quick. “You act like its so easy to find your boyfriend dependable when hes fluid!“ You say bitterly piking at hid oast relationship with Gina, which was a sensitive topic for the boy. He was hurt, of course but nothing could prepare you for what you heard.

“Maybe we should break up......“ Oliver said bitterly. He didnt really mean it. He was just being pissy. But you ended up taking it seriously. You facial expression softened along with his. You quickly got your stuff and flying out the door. He was quickly on your trail with pleads coming out hus mouth for you to stop. He apologized a thousand times. But you didnt listen. You thought its not suposed to hurt this much.

But it did. You ran to your house crying all day long. And you fell asleeo crying.... It was over.

On the other hand, Oliver sat in his chair at his desk with a palm to his head wondering how he could fix this. “If these walls could talk“ Oliver whisperes to himseld. He wasnt stupid, but he really didnt notice you felt that way. You two both had a great poker face when you wanted to. He decided to make things right.

There was a loud knock at your door. It was about 11 at night and it was just you and the dog cooper gave you for your birthday. You jumped as the dog barked. You were scared because people usually dont knock. Especially not around that time of night. You peek through the door too see Oliver. You sighed relived but tensed up at the thought of what happened. You didnt wanna be the one to break it off. You didnt even wanna break it off. “I know you’re in there“ Oliver said as you opened the door. He walked in closing your door behind him. You sat down with him and you guys sat in silence.

That was until it was broken. “im an idiot“ Oliver spoke up. “I didnt mean anything i said back there. (y/n) i just want you to understand how much i love you.“ Oliver your hand. You broke down and cried into his chest. “I know, Im sorry“ He said rocking youu back n forth. He kissed you softly. “We were really toxic back there“ You spoke up. He nodded. “I think we should get couple therapy“ you said. “Whatever you want. I just dont want this to end, baby“ Oliver said holding you close. “And from now on, its me and you. Im willing to do whatever this relationship needs, even if that includes slowing down with Cooper“ Oliver said. “Im willing to do whatever this relationship needs. Even if it includes putting my trust into you more, not that it wasnt already there, but just a little more“ You say giggling. He kisses you smiling and holding you. “I love you, Oli“ you say. “I Love you too, (y/n/n) “ He said smiling. And you fell asleep on the couch with your dog in Olivers lap sleeping with you guys.

💜

[xo-xojj]

Hold Me Close

(gif not mine)

Oliver Otto x Male Reader

Request: Nope

Desc: Reader gets sent back after hearing about Olivers experience at work.

Type: Fluff, Angst

Warnings: Metions of suicidal thoughts, depression. Eating disorder metion. Reader has body dysmorphia And fluff at the end

Enjoy<3

It had been a long day for Oliver. He came back to his house and gors to his bedroom to see his boyfriend laying on his bed. He smiled softly dropping his bag down on the ground. He walked over to (y/n) kissing him softly then laying down next to him. “how was work. You seem stressed.” (y/n) said brushing a couple hairs out of Olivers face. “You read me like a book. Well since you asked it wasnt bad, I just got a call from someone who, uhm, i guess you could say they sounded like they were sinking. And i didnt really expect it to be honest. I was pretty embarrased because I wasnt really prepared to handle that today.

(y/n) frowned, as it was something that kinda tugged at his heart strings. He was now not in a good mood. And it wasnbt even Olivers fault. He asked how Olivers day was. He just wasnt prepared for that answer. Oliver could feel the obvious shift in the room. “Whats wrong, I mean i know it bummed me out but i didnt mean for-” “No, dont apologize, nor worry about it.“ (Y/n) cut oliver off. He gave oliver a soft kiss before getting up and going to the bathroom.

(Y/n), as usual, ate dinner with the Otto’s. He did this because his mother worked 3rd shift so it was easier just to eat with his boyfriends family instead of cooking himself. The Otto’s chatted as usual until Taylor brought up how (Y/n) was eating. He hadnt noticed he was eating a little fast, even though he could assume what from. He hadnt eaten a meal since last week. Just water and maybe a fruit before school. “Damn, your messing that up (y/n)“ Taylor said, obviously joking. But (Y/n) felt a nerve struck as he stopped. The dinner table was quiet as they all looked at (y/n). He swallowed his food with a guilty look on his face. Oliver looked at his boyfriend with confusion on why he wasnt talking. (y/n) suddenly stood up amd excused himself to the bathroom. The whole family looked at eachother witg confused facea. They were used to jokes with eachother. What happened now?

It was finally the weekend and Oliver couldnt stop thinking about (y/n) ever since what happened Wednesday. And it was the last time they had talked. Oliver went over to (y/n)’s house. He knocked and there his boyfriend was. “hey!“ Oliver said hopeful. “whats up“ (y/n) said. “can we talk if you dont mind, i dont wanna stand out here and talk because it kinda looks weird.“ Oliver said quickly. And (y/n) moved back so oliver could come in and closed the door behind him. The two sat down on the couch. “What happened Wednesday?“ Oliver askes sincerely. “Uhm nothing, why?-“ (y/n) gets cut off. “Dont bother lying, (y/n/n) I know something was up ever since i told you about what happened to me at work. And i doubt that what i told you was the main thing bothering you“ Oliver said. He placed a hand on (y/n)’s hand and squeezed it. “Talk to me, please.“ Oliver begged hating seeing his boyfriend like this. (y/n) started to break down in olivers shoulder. He sobbed and stayed like that for a couole minutes. Wetting Olivers blue shirt. Eventually (y/n) lifted his head up not looking up at his boyfriend until his boyfriend, Oliver made him look at him. “Talk to me (y/n)“ Oliver asked again. “I just uhm, felt kinda stupid. When i was 11 I had gained weught along side an eating disorder. I really hated the way i looked and at times i do now. And it uhm, got to a point where i had tried to.......“ (y/n) said stuttering. Now everything made sense to Oliver. Thats why he left the dining room, his bedroom, and kinda ghosted. He was embarrased. “Hey, if you dint want to you dont bave to say anymore. I get it“ Oliver said kissing (y/n) softly before holding him and rocking back n forth as he cried. “I just didnt wanna become a burden“ (Y/n) said and It broke Olivers heart a little. The person he truly loved with his whole heart had been through so much and he only knew a little. To hear his boyfriend call hinself a burden hurt oliver himself more than anything. “No. God no youd never be a burden. Thats what i do. And id be damned if i didnt do it for you. Im here for you.“ Oliver said. They cuddled there and they just stayed like that until they fell asleep. From then on Oliver Cherished his boyfriend and wanted to protect him with his whole life. He never wanted to see (y/n) hurt again.

[xo-xojj]

Masterlist

Smut = *

Fluff= ~

Angst = +

Percy Jackson and the olympians

Percy Jackson

Thinkin bout you~

Grover

Luke Castellan

The Sweetest Thing~

Nico di angelo

Will solace

TSITP

Jeremiah fisher

Conrad fisher

Steven Conklin

Cameron

American housewife

Oliver Otto

Supernatural~

Hold Me Close~+

These Walls~+

Test Drive/Adore*~

Just like that*

Cooper Bradford

Sturniolo triplets

Nick Sturniolo

Matt sturniolo

Chris Sturniolo

OBX

JJ Maybank

Pope Heyward

John b

Rafe Cameron

Topper Thornton

DC

Jason Todd

Bruce Wayne

Dick Grayson

Damian Wayne

CHUCKY(tv series)

Jake Wheeler

Juinor Wheeler

Devon Evans

Grant Collins

Others

Walker Scobell

Charlie Bushnell

Mason Thames

Tom holland

Chris Evans

Jeremy Sumpter(js him alone❤️)

Eternal Sunshine(Gavin Gore)~

Heaven Can Wait(Gavin Gore)*

Series

Gossip Girl S1 (Ghostin)

Characters(00)

Prologue(00)

Pilot(01)

The Wild Brunch(02)

Poison Ivy(03)

Bad News Blair(04)

Dare Devil(05)

The Hands maids Tale(06)

Victor/Victrola(07)

Seventeen Candles(08)

Blair Waldorf Must Pie(09)

Hi, Society(010)

Roman Holiday(011)

School Lies(012)

A Thin Line Between Chuck and Nate(013)

The Blair Bitch Project(014)

Desperately Seeking Serena(015)

All About My Brother(016)

Woman On The Verge(017)

Much ‘I Do’ About Nothing(018)

Random Oneshots

Phineas Smith x Male!oc/reader

More coming soon