#and he was like ! I saw it in America loads too!!!

[seowoobins]

230409 : 🫧 pm

[justwinginglife]

Operation Rescue Hoshina aka The Runaway Boyfriend

Inspired by ideas from @adaizel based off of a fic that I wrote where Hoshina tries to avoid reader by running off doing other missions with other divisions and the reader says she'll drag his ass back if she finds him doing it again. Thanks again for the ideas and the enthusiasm. Also this will be NSFW as fuck and this will be longer than my usual fics so buckle up!

When you find the office of the Vice Captain is empty yet again, his stupid chair swiveling like he just had the idea to up and run, you groan. Hoshina loved doing this to you. He loved picking a Division, any division at all, and running away to them under the guise of helping with their missions. He loved to see how long it would take you to find him and come running, yelling profanities at him. He thought it was sexy. And he loved to see just how far he could push you.

It was a little game the two of you would play, and sometimes you were amused and sometimes you weren't.

Today you weren't. You were supposed to be having a meeting with him to talk about new training protocols for the Third Division and here he was fucking around god knows where on a random ass Tuesday, knowing damn well he has loads of paperwork to do. You knew you should have told him Captain Ashiro would be at the meeting too, he'd never mess around if it was the Captain. You were his sole target for teasing.

"Which fucking division are you in now Soshiro??" You grumble to yourself, flipping through papers on his desk, and opening drawers trying to see if he left you some sort of clue. You found nothing and you thought you might have to journey all over Japan to find him, when you got a text on your phone.

Come pick up my idiot brother, please. He's driving me crazy.

You scoff at your phone. Well this was a new one. Looks like he was in the Sixth Division today.

When I get there, I'm going to kick his ass so hard he lands in America.

You suit up and take your motorcycle. He hates when you make him ride on the back of your bike (he claims you drive like a crazy person and his sensitive stomach can't take it) but you don't give a shit right now. You just want the fastest way to get to him, and with this mode of transport you can duck and weave in between cars.

You arrive at the scene of Hoshina's soon to be murder, revving your engine as you spin in circles making donuts on the pavement and sputtering smoke into the air.

You pull out your megaphone from your bag. You had to buy a megaphone at this point.

"SOSHIRO FUCKING HOSHINA! IF YOU DON'T SHOW YOURSELF IN TWO SECONDS I WILL SNAP YOUR SWORDS IN HALF AND SHOVE THEM WHERE THE SUN DON'T SHINE!" You bellow loudly through the speaker.

The onlooking officers wince and move aside, making way for a very embarrassed Soshiro to step through.

"Hi baby." He says, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly as he slowly walks towards you.

"PICK UP THE PACE SOLDIER!" You yell as though he doesn't outrank you.

He sighs and starts jogging to you.

"Little much today, don't you think, love?" He asks as he approaches you.

You raise an eyebrow, daring him to challenge you, and he holds both his hands up in surrender.

He grins. "I mean, it was sexy and all." Then he cocks his head at your ride. "But did you have to bring the damn bike?"

You smirk at that. "If you didn't want to ride on my bike you shouldn't have run away, dumbass."

He groans, already clutching at his stomach. "Please don't drive crazy."

You wink at him. "Shall we do some off-roading? Just for you baby?"

He rolls his eyes and hops on the back of the bike, wrapping his arms around your waist. Then he leans in closer and presses a kiss to your neck. "Hey. We haven't had a date this week yet, and I saw this cute lil diner on the way in. Dinner on me, baby?"

You bite your lip to keep from smiling. This was the one thing you liked about his stupid, wild antics. He'd treat you to anything in whatever city you found yourselves in. "Dinner... and I saw a shopping mall on the way over. Buy me something nice."

He chuckles and snuggles up against you. "Deal baby."

And that was Tuesday. But then came Saturday and Saturday was a whole different beast. It was you and Hoshina's day off and you had been snuggled up in bed with him when he said he wanted to go for a walk, you were still sleepy so you waved him off and he said he'd be back soon. That was three hours ago.

Ughhhh, why's he doing this to me on a Saturday? You groan and throw on your combat suit. You've got your knives tucked in place all over your suit and guns prepared when you hear a knock at the door. That better be him, you think to yourself.

You open the door and it's a woman. You blink. She blinks.

"I'm looking for Soshiro?" She asks.

Your eyes narrow. "Who wants to know?" And who the fuck is using his first name so comfortably.

"I'm his girlfriend." She says snootily.

You throw your head back and laugh once, then you stand up straight, cracking your shoulders and your knuckles. You glare down at her. "That's funny. Because I'm his girlfriend."

She clears her throat. "Well I'm his ex-girlfriend," She corrects herself like it's a simple mistake.

Bitch. You didn't just misspeak, you were trying to have something over me, you think to yourself. "And what the fuck are you doing visiting his place, ex-girlfriend?" You emphasize ex as you step closer to her, towering over her and causing her to back up one step. But she holds her ground and refuses to back up any further.

"Just wanted to see if he missed me, that's all." She says simply and you're pissed off by her honesty. Like she's not threatened by you.

"Be a good girl and tell him I said hi, yeah?" She smirks.

Your fists clench. "Darling, I don't know if you know this, but these apartments are owned by the Defense Force and I'm the Third Division's Platoon Leader so I say you're trespassing. If I see you around here one more time, if you even breathe anywhere near my boyfriend, I will personally grab you by your shitty extensions and drag you off the grounds myself. Is that crystal fucking clear?" You make a point of pulling your gun out, though you know it's an immature move.

She raises an eyebrow but then rolls her eyes and backs off. "I see Soshiro still likes them crazy." Then she walks off and leaves you alone with your thoughts. You watch as her figure recedes, biting into your lip until it bleeds.

What a fucking awful way to spend your Saturday.

You need to shoot something. You open your phone to find the tracking app (you'd finally decided you needed to install some way to trace Soshiro easier), and find he's in the First Division today.

"Sorry Narumi, I'm about to break your fucking door down." You snatch your keys (honestly- you almost rip the whole ass hook off the wall trying to grab them) and get in your car (you think it might be too dangerous to be driving pissed off on a motorcycle). You slam on the gas, the smell of burning rubber filling the air, and you speed off.

When you arrive, you thank god there's an actual kaiju attack. If you didn't have something to kill, you might've strangled Soshiro himself. In fact, you might kill the kaiju and strangle him anyway.

Now the First Division officers see you pull up and they start to groan, looking around at each other nervously. Soshiro runs away to the First Division more than any other division because he knows it'll annoy the shit out of Narumi to have the two of you causing chaos in his city (kill two birds with one stone right?), so these officers know you almost as well as the Third Division at this point. Or at least they thought they did, but today you were a whole different level of frenzied and furious and they were not immune to the fear that followed.

You don't even look at them, and they start to breathe again, thinking they're safe. Then you jump on the head of the nearest kaiju and start pummeling it with your fists until it's pulp. The officers gulp. You usually use your gun and give the kaiju's a quick death- less chance of them hurting anyone else if they die quicker, you'd say. But apparently today you weren't thinking about mercy or efficiency.

When your fists finally start to get tired, you pull out your gun and start rapidly blasting any beast that dares come near you. Then, once you've cleared out most of the kaiju, you start to go for the big one. That's where Narumi and Soshiro are currently held up. Narumi rolls his eyes as you jog up to them and Soshiro grins.

"Hey baby!" He calls to you.

"A fucking walk? Huh, Soshiro? A walk?" You spit out.

He shrugs, still grinning from ear to ear. "It was a long walk, what can I say?"

"You went for a walk in your goddamn combat suit? To the First Fucking Division??" You demand, punching him in the arm.

He senses you're a different kind of mad today but he can't quite figure out why. He watches you intently, trying to piece it together.

You know he's trying to figure you out so you make it easy for him. "Met your bitch ass ex girlfriend today. You know, the one you failed to mention you had."

He coughs. "You met Tsumi?"

Hearing her name, knowing that he knows who you're talking about, pisses you off even more. You punch his other arm and he winces.

"You ladies wanna take this conversation elsewhere? I'm kinda busy here." Narumi says, still shooting at the Honju.

"Actually, I think I'm good right where I'm at." You charge headfirst towards the Honju, while Narumi and Soshiro gape at you. You run at it, shooting anywhere that looks like a soft spot but to no avail. You're glad the Honju isn't easy to kill though- you don't want it to be.

"Guess I'll have to use these." You pull out Soshiro's swords and he spins around wondering when you took them from him. You slash at the beasts legs, arms, chest, neck. You just want to slash at something, anything at this point.

Be a good girl and tell him I said hi, yeah?

You hear her stupid fucking voice in your head and you keep slashing and slashing until you you realize the Honju has been long dead and the officers of the First Division are gathered around you, staring.

You wipe the blood from your face. "Soshiro. We're going home. NOW." You drop his swords to the floor with a clang and he winces at the sound. He collects them quickly and follows you to the car, waving bye to the other officers before he gets in.

You drive home, intending to spend the time in silence but Soshiro has other ideas.

"Does it help if I say you were really sexy back there?"

You're silent.

"Hey, I saw this really cool movie theater we could try. It's got luxury seats and a full bar."

Still silent.

"Baby. Come on. Are you really mad at me? For real? I don't even get a date?"

You glare at him and then turn back to face the road. "Why don't you take Tsumi on a date?"

You can almost hear his stupid cheeky grin. "Ahhh. I see. Someone's jealous. So sexy."

You punch his arm again in the same spot you'd hit earlier. "Hey! You're gonna bruise my beautiful arms, ya know!"

"I'm aiming to."

He scoffs. He's quiet for a moment. Then he daringly says, "I bet Tsumi wouldn't do this to me."

You slam on the brakes.

You peer out the window and it looks like you're near a motel. You drag his ass out of the car and book the two of you a room at the front desk before dragging him to said room.

He smirks. "Little mini vacation? Is that what's going on right now?"

"Get undressed." You demand.

He licks his lips at the sudden order. Though caught off guard by this random excursion of yours, he goes along with it. "Yes ma'am." He starts to strip and for a moment, you get distracted by the ripple of his muscles tight against his body. Then when he's fully naked in front of you, you back him towards the bed. He allows you to, thinking you're here to reward his bad behavior. You're not.

You pull out some handcuffs and shackle him to the bed frame, to his surprise. You start to walk away and the smirk drops from his face as he starts to think that maybe you're going to leave him here in some random motel on the side of the road.

"Hey! Hey wait! Baby, where are you going? Baby, talk to me! You can't leave me here!"

You tsk at him, waving a finger in front of his face. "Be a good boy and sit still, I'll be right back." You tighten his cuffs, sending a slight jolt of pain into his wrists. He gulps.

You leave the room and go grab some things from the car.

When you come back you wrap a blindfold around him and he flinches.

"Wh-what's going on? Baby?" He asks, uncertain for the first time all day.

You nuzzle against his ear and bite the lobe, pulling slightly. He inhales sharply. "I'm going to teach you to behave yourself." You say in a low growl. He shivers.

You pull your whip out and start running it up one of his calves. His breath hitches in his throat. You wrap a hand around his throat, applying slight pressure around it. Before he can get used to the sensation, you drag the whip up and slap it down on his thigh. He gasps at the little taste of pain that's searing his leg, but you know he loves it.

"Tell me... does Tsumi make you feel like this?" You whisper in his ear, this time licking up the curve of it.

He swallows. "N-no baby... only you do." His words are meek and they sound so delicious to you.

"That's a good boy." You whip his other thigh and he groans this time, his cock engorging at the feeling. You lightly drag the whip across his dick, causing it to twitch. He lifts his hips and arches into it, wanting more.

"You want this baby?" You start to drag the whip up his defined abdomen and across his chest. He nods quickly. You smirk at his eagerness. You run the whip down the length of his arm and flick it hard against his forearm.

He groans and bites his lip.

You pull on his bottom lip, and his teeth release it. "No biting, love. That's just for me." You lean forward and bite his lower lip, tugging on it gently before releasing.

"Fuck." He whispers.

"Watch your language baby. I might just have to punish you for that."

"So punish me," He says, breathless.

You lick your lips at his pleading. The sight of him laid bare for you, desperate for your attention, was such a pretty picture. The Vice Captain of the Third Division, all flushed and panting, precum seeping from his throbbing cock. All because you touched him a little.

You thought you'd reward him a little. You trace your tongue up his thigh, lapping at the red welt on his skin. He throws his head back against the bedframe, soaking in the feeling of your wetness on his skin. You grab his balls in one hand and squeeze as you drag your tongue up the length of his bulging erection. You nip at his tip a little and then, before he can react, you deep throat him.

He hits the back of your throat and he inhales sharply. Your mouth tightens around him, coating him thoroughly in your saliva as you suck harder. Then, right as he thinks he might cum, you pull back. He swears and you almost laugh. His legs are shaking now and he bucks at the air, trying to get some relief. You press two hands down tightly on his thighs, shoving him back into the mattress.

"Not yet. You cum when I say you can. Got that?"

He whimpers as more precum trickles out of him.

You place a cock ring at his base and he groans. "You're going to tease the shit out of me until I'm begging for it, huh?"

"You got that right baby."

You click a leash around his neck and uncuff him from the bed. You tug on the leash, pulling him towards you and meeting his lips for a sloppy kiss. Then you withdraw from him, leaving him hungry for more, and you push him down flat against the bedsheets.

He tries to get up, reaching for your face to snag another kiss, but you shove him back down. "Such a bad boy. You only do what I tell you to, got that?" You flick the whip at his thigh again.

He shudders. "Yes baby. Anything you say baby."

Then you pull out your prostate massager and, after lubing it up thoroughly, you slowly side it inside him causing him to gasp. Then you turn it on to a low setting and watch as he twitches, moans escaping his beautiful lips.

"I'm not done with you yet love." While that's running, you grab a vibrating wand and turn it on. It rumbles against the base of his cock, causing him to tremble.

"Fuck." He whimpers.

"What did I say about your language baby? Seems someone hasn't learned their lesson." You turn the settings up on the wand and trace it up his length, earning another groan from him. His precum starts to pump ferociously as the wand reaches his tip. He's starting to overload, unable to keep up with the vibrations coming from both ends of him. He can't tell if he should focus more on the delicious pressure up against his prostate or the rumbling across his dripping tip.

"Now, tell me again. What is Tsumi to you?"

"Nothing. She's nothing." He gasps out.

"And what am I?"

"Everything. You're everything baby." His moans come out low and guttural.

"Good boy. Now tell me, are you going to run away from me again? You know we've got important work to be doing at the Third Division."

He bites his lip.

You sigh. "I see. Still haven't learned your lesson then. Alright, I can go at this all night, let's see how much you can take."

You turn the settings up to max on both devices.

He jolts so quickly he chokes on his spit, the saliva drizzling down his chin, as he clenches the sheets hard. "B-baby! B-baby, p-please!" His words are frantic as they stumble out of his mouth. He chokes back a sob as you press the wand harder against him.

"Th-that's t-too m-much... ah fuck!"

He ejaculates wildly, his hips bucking from the sheer force of it, as hot milky cum spurts out of him in erratic bursts, dousing you. He's still shuddering from his violent orgasm when you've finally turned off the toys and pulled them away from him.

His breathing is ragged and shaky, and sweat from his forehead starts to trickle down and cloud his view.

"S-so we're all good now, r-right?" He asks weakly.

You smirk at him, feeling smug.

"For now."

[queensunshinee]

Time Of Our Lives || Part 23

warnings: SMUT! 18+!, oral sex, handjob.

Part 23

"Have I already thanked you for agreeing to come with me?" Art asked after he entered the hotel where Liana was staying. His parents had also arrived. "You know I wouldn't miss you at the Olympics, right? And in London, no less!" She rolled her eyes because he hadn't stopped saying 'thank you' since the moment he bought the stupid ticket (which she wanted to pay for herself, but he didn't exactly ask her). "I love London. It's not a punishment or anything," she smiled genuinely.

Art smiled back, but he had known for some time that she loved him just as much as she loved London, and if he wanted to be arrogant, maybe even more than she loved London. And God knows how much he loves Liana. So why can't he talk to her about it? They talk about everything except that. They act like people who have been in a relationship for a decade. People whose dilemmas are about kids and home design. Why can't those be their real dilemmas? Has Art sentenced himself to a life beside Liana that will never be full and complete? Will he always have to settle for almost because he didn't insist on how ridiculous their agreement was?

"Can't wait to see all the places you love. All the buildings you told me about." His smirk widened into a real smile when he saw her face. Her eyes sparkled with excitement, and her cheeks reddened. She was truly the most beautiful person he knew. He can't believe he grew up beside her all his life and didn't realize how beautiful she was for half of it. "Maybe I shouldn't introduce you to Melissa, so you won't fall in love with her by mistake," she said in response, and he raised an eyebrow. "Oh, yes. I'm definitely capable of falling in love with your best friend," he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes as she swallowed. They both realized how loaded his statement was only after he said it. After all, Liana had been in love with his best friend. She was capable of that. It's not the same thing. He knows it's not the same thing. And yet. It's not far-fetched in their reality.

"Are you excited?" she abruptly changed the subject. "What's the worst that can happen? I'll lose in the first rounds with you and my parents in the audience, all of America watching me, and I'll become a meme. Just another Sunday," he lay down on the bed beside her, burying his head in her chest, letting her fingers run through his curls. "Or you'll win, and then win again and again," she said in response, and he chuckled. "What are the chances of that happening, Lia?" he sighed, afraid of disappointing so many people. "High. But in any case, you know I don't care, right?" she asked, moving his head a bit, making him look at her with wide eyes, absorbing every word she had to say. "I don't care as long as I know you're enjoying yourself and doing what you love to do. That's like the only reason I'm willing to watch you play tennis. Because I know you love it and it excites you. In any other scenario, fuck tennis," she shrugged as if it was the most obvious thing and moved again, allowing him to rest his head back on her soft chest. He could fall asleep like this. He had fallen asleep like this before.

"So if I quit tomorrow, you wouldn't care?" he asked without looking at her. Because he didn't plan to quit. He was far from it. He loved playing tennis. He loved seeing Liana in the audience. He loved winning. "I'd throw you a party," she replied, making both of them chuckle.

"I brought you something," she murmured, gently moving him again so she could get up. "It's not too much, so don't get too excited," she added as she rummaged through her suitcase and pulled out a box wrapped with a ribbon. "Lia, you shouldn't have." His hand found its way to his neck for a moment, unable to think clearly. His heart was beating irrationally. The fact that she thought of him enough to give him something for the tournament, even though she was already flying with him, gave him chills. "Don't be stupid, open it," she smiled. And for once, Art listened to what she told him to do instead of giving her instructions. "What is all this?" he muttered, not knowing what to focus on.

"Okay, the headphones are supposed to be really good. They're for listening to your meditations if you're with someone in the room, or the songs you like to listen to before games. The book is just because I know you might get bored in the Olympic Village between games or training or whatever, so you have something to pass the time. And there's this really silly picture my mom gave me two months ago. Art, have you seen it?" She talked so fast, and Art felt he could cry. "It's from that time you got a skateboard for your birthday," he stated, examining the framed picture. Liana and he were seven. He was holding his first racket in one hand and hugging Liana with the other. His cheeks were red, and his eyes were swollen. Liana, on her part, had her arms crossed, standing next to a small skateboard. She looked displeased.

"Yeah, and you cried and acted like a little bitch even though you got a racket for your birthday," she laughed heartily, and Art couldn't take his eyes off the picture in front of him. "I wanted to have what you had," he said honestly, remembering that feeling exactly. As a child, he couldn't let go of her at every shared moment. He followed her like he was her tail. Probably even then, he would have wagged if she asked him to. She never asked. "It's for you to put in your room because two and a half weeks is a long time, so you feel a bit at home. After that, I might want it back. It's too cute," Liana continued, partially ignoring what he said.

"Is that mine?" he suddenly asked, pulling out a simple white cap from the box. "Yes. Okay, it's weird, I know. But you had that period where you wore a backwards cap and really looked like a smug, annoying dickhead—" "Oh yes, I remember. You didn't stop telling me how much you hated all my caps," he rolled his eyes.

"Well...I lied," she said without blinking, and he looked at her, raising an eyebrow. "You looked really good with those silly caps. It was awful," she rolled her eyes. "And then there was one time I was at your house one summer, and you were in the pool, so I just took that cap. I thought maybe it would make you stop wearing them, but you just wore another one the next day. An insufferable person," she spoke quickly, as if the speed would make what she said less significant.

"When was that?" For every word she said quickly, he spoke his slowly, swimming in this moment. "The summer of age 16, like 10 years ago, I think?" she tried to remember. "Lia, did you have a crush on me when you were 16?" The familiar smirk spread across his face. "Oh, fuck off," she rolled her eyes, and he put the box on the bed beside him, stood up, and approached her. Wrapping her in a hug with his big hands.

"Thank you," he said quietly, feeling himself melt into her. "You know I've got your back, right? With or without tennis. You and I will be okay," she said, looking at him again. Art kissed her in response, unable to find any words other than 'I love you' (which he wasn’t allowed to say) to sum up the discussion.

After three weeks at the London Olympics, Art Donaldson won a silver medal in the doubles tournament and a gold medal in the singles, all while wearing a backwards white cap in every match. The kiss he gave Liana after his victory was captured everywhere. It was called 'iconic.' Nobody knew who Liana was, but she was the first person to receive his attention, and his parents or Tashi, who were sitting there, weren't surprised at all.

They said goodbye to his parents and decided to stay another week in London. This way, Art could meet some of Liana's friends and see places she loved. Besides, he could use a vacation. Tashi tried to resist, unsuccessfully. It was also Liana's birthday, and Art wanted to take her to a nice restaurant.

They sat next to each other at a bar in London, with some of Liana's school friends sitting across from them. Art connected with them instantly. In a flash. Overall, seeing Liana so immersed in her element, so social, was like exploring her anew. Discovering the person she had been all these years without him.

"Does anyone want something to drink?" he asked, and after everyone told him what they wanted and someone else went with him, Liana stayed with Melissa, who looked at her as if she had fallen from the moon. "You're so in love with him it's embarrassing. I don't know what this act is for," Melissa said the second everyone walked away. "There's no act, we're fine. He's my best friend," Liana shrugged and finished her drink. "Girl, I'm your best friend. The blond guy who looks at you like you hung the moon and sleeps with you most nights of the week, he's your boyfriend." Melissa almost laughed at the absurdity. There wasn't a single person around the table who even asked who Art was to Liana. It was obvious to everyone that he was her boyfriend. His hand was on her in a half-hug, so nonchalant, as if he was born in that exact position. As if he belonged right beside her.

"He doesn't look at me like-" Liana rolled her eyes. "What are you afraid of?" Melissa interrupted, not letting her continue deceiving herself. There isn't a person in the world (literally the whole world since their kissing photos were published) who thinks Liana is just Art's best friend. "I guess, I don't want to get hurt again," Liana murmured, looking at Melissa with a pitiable expression. "Oh, babes, sweetie, everyone gets hurt all the time. Who the fuck has the energy to be afraid of that?" She hugged her, a crushing hug. "I need to visit you more. You're losing it over there in America," she concluded as everyone returned to the table.

Art's hand returned to the same spot, only this time Liana's head rested on his shoulder, as if she was born right there as well.

Two days later, Art insisted they go to the restaurant he had reserved. "Art, we're going to celebrate at your parents' house in two weeks anyway. You're really overdoing it," she said when he just told her about his plans. "Hey, we never celebrate your birthday on the actual date. It feels unfair. Just let me spoil you for a bit," he looked at her with a gaze she found hard to refuse.

So, Liana found herself sitting next to him at a Michelin-starred restaurant, telling him occasionally that he was crazy for the amount of money he spent on this meal. Reminding him that there was no real reason for this extravagance. But every time Liana took a bite or sipped the wine, he saw her face change, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. He knew it wasn't a waste. He knew he had made the right decision, and he knew that tonight might take a turn very soon, so he decided to savor the good, certain moments as much as possible.

After they finished eating, Liana took him on a tourist bus tour, which made them both roll their eyes and laugh, feeling like kids again. They weren't bothered by the people asking to take pictures with Art. What did bother them was the rain that started to pour in August, causing them to catch a taxi to the hotel, drenched. "That was a really extreme ending to this evening," Liana said as they both laughed. "Thank you, Art, this was really over the top," she said, looking at him with a gaze that quickly changed from amused to grateful.

"You don't have to thank me for anything, Liana. Like, ever." He said, his gaze was piercing. Demanding. "Haven't you figured that out yet?" he mumbled and sighed. "Okay. No more thank yous. Do you want to shower with me?" she smiled, and his look filled with mischief as he moved towards her and unzipped her dress. They were under the warm water quickly, with Art gently moving her hair away from her face, and she closed her eyes. His hands were so rough from tennis, but his touch was soft.

"You're so beautiful, Lia. It's unbelievable that you're mine," he murmured, and she opened her eyes. He looked at her, too, and knew he had crossed some kind of line. Because they didn't say it out loud. They didn't say what everyone understood. They just acted like it, and Art was about to ruin it. Or change it. Or improve it. He was about to break it. "You're beautiful yourself," she replied, standing on her tiptoes and kissing him. He deepened the kiss immediately. And it wasn't hurried or sloppy; it was serious and mature and deep. They took their time, refusing to break apart until they ran out of air to share.

Art didn't know how he found himself on all fours before her again, but he loved looking up at her sometimes. When she looked back at him, and they both knew she had the power to destroy him, but she would never use it. And Art was beginning to believe he also had the power to destroy Liana, but he would never dream of using it. His mouth was on her pussy, and even as he explored her from within, he took his time, just as he had with her mouth earlier. And the sounds she made, which he was already used to but would never tire of, made him feel like he could come without her touching him at all. "Fuck, Artie, I'm close," and he loved when she called him that because it only happened when she was needy and coming and desperate and his, and he knew she was in that stupid state because of him, and she also knew he was the one making her feel so good, in such euphoria. And with that thought in his mind, he felt her come, half leaning on the wall and half on his shoulder as he held her shaking legs. "It's okay, baby, I've got you. Come for me. I'm here," he talked her through it, making her orgasm even more intense.

And after she recovered and managed to give him a handjob while they both giggled at her inability to function, they managed to shower and get dressed. "I have a present for you," he said suddenly, with his hand on his neck, knowing this was going to be a pivotal moment but staying calm. "Art, you're overdoing it. The meal was enou-" "Please, Liana, just let me give it to you," he interrupted her because he knew the arguments would come later anyway; right now, he needed her less combat ready.

"Okay," she mumbled, and he went to his suitcase, pulling out a small jewelry box. "Art, what is this?" Liana looked at it as if it were a contagious disease wrapped in a bow. "Relax, it's not a ring. But it might make you angry, and I want you not to be mad at me. Can you do that? Not be mad before you let me talk?" he said, playing with his fingers to steady himself as he spoke. "What's going on, Art?" her voice became more serious. Every note of amusement left it as he handed her the box and sat cross-legged on the bed in front of her.

She looked at the key inside and then at him with a raised eyebrow, feeling her heart pounding faster. "The house is ready," he said, not taking his eyes off her. "Actually, it's been ready for a few weeks. The designer finished completely." He continued, seeing that Liana didn't move for a second. Not even blink. "I'm moving there, and I want you to move in with me." His look was almost desperate. He was so afraid of her reaction, as if he knew she was about to shatter him. "Art, that's not what we agreed..." she said quietly, afraid to move. "Fuck it, Liana. We haven't been in what we agreed to for a long time. We haven't been friends with benefits from the minute we agreed on it. You know that." He closed his eyes and took a long breath. "You built that house. The interior design consists of your ideas too. You love that house, and Liana, I'm pretty sure you love me too, and if you don't say otherwise, then I just want you to agree to live with me. That will be the new agreement," he was desperate. His voice shook, and he didn't speak logically, but he tried to convey a point.

"That will be the new agreement?" she asked, biting her lip, and he could see she was giving in. "Yes. The new agreement will be that we're in love and live together in the house we built for ourselves." He moved closer to her, his voice steadier as he kissed her neck and heard her sigh. "I can't pay for that house, Art. It cost you an insane amount of money," she mumbled. "Liana, the money doesn't matter to me. I have more money. Just what I earned from the Olympics covers that house. I'm not broke in any way." He tried to dramatize that this was the last thing that mattered to him.

"Okay," she said after a few seconds of silence, surprising him. Making him move back a bit and look at her. "Okay?" he asked, confused. He honestly thought it would take him more time. That he would have to twist and convince her.

"Yes, I think we can be in love and live together in a beautiful house. It's something we can handle," she shrugged and started to smile. "So I can say I love you without fearing you'll run away from me?" he continued, not believing he didn't have to struggle. "You already stated that I love you, so I think it would be fair if you also say you love-" He didn't let her finish the sentence before he kissed her. "Happy birthday, Liana Levy. I love you," he smiled into her mouth.

'Happy birthday Amanda, I miss you' will probably be the first message Liana sees when she opens her phone in the morning, but that's a worry for another day. Today, she's celebrating the best birthday she's ever had, probably because she's finally celebrating it on the actual date.

Hey guyssss, how are we doing? Let me know what you think as always, it literally makes my day. Also, send me more requests for blurbs. I love them and I will do at least another one between this and the next chapter. Patrick will come back to us. I just needed Art and Liana to be more stable at this point. Hope you're still enjoying it <3 

taglist (if anyone wants to join, just ask): @suzysface tqd4455 @soberbabes @nina357 @lamoursansfin @marley1773 @ruyaas-world @apolloscastellan @primlovesdilfs @fangirl-kimora @serenadingtigers @imbabycowboy @do-it-for-kicks @izzywags478 @4deline08 @igotmajordaddyissues @jackierose902109 @ganana @yoitsme-04 @swetearss

[dira333]

Away from home - Oikawa x reader

Follower Celebration Request

A/N: Since I had quite some trouble characterizing him, I'd appreciate it if you told me how well I've managed

Your last roommate had been less difficult.

Granted, he’d only been on the lease for a month before he moved out again, and even then, you barely saw him. 

But this guy is different. He’s been overly charming during the interview, to the point that it made you suspicious. Who flirts that much over a simple room? Especially when it had already been clear that he got it?

Oikawa Tooru is tall, good-looking, and aware of it. He’s also your roommate of one day and is already going on your nerves.

“The laundry.” You’re standing in the doorway to his room, laundry basket heavy on your hip. “You need to put it away when it’s done or I can’t use the washer.”

“Oh, I was going to do-” Tooru scrambles up from his bed where he’d been watching something on his laptop, his ridiculously floppy hair bouncing as he moves. He’s like a walking shampoo ad.

“Yeah, now.” You put the laundry basket down. “And I need it in half an hour when my load is done.”

“Sure thing, honeycup.”

“Don’t call me that.”

You had wondered, for about half a minute, how he was dealing with the culture shock that was Argentina. It had been tough for you, coming from America, but it had to be worse for him. You still remember how he blushed when you casually used his first name - like you were used to doing - before realizing that that’s not really a thing in Japan. 

Was he as homesick as you? Did he miss familiar sights, the simple things like being able to get your favorite brand of chocolate in the nearby store instead of having to find a specialty shop and paying an arm and a leg for it? 

You wanted to ask, kind of, until you walked back to his room thirty minutes later only to find your laundry basket still filled with wet clothing.

“Are you serious?” You ask. He looks up from his laptop, brows furrowed.

“What?” He asks.

“The laundry. I told you I need the basket.” 

“I was going to-”

You grab the basket, lift it up, and turn it over, watching with a sick kind of satisfaction as it drops heavily on his bed - and partly on him too. 

“I’m not your mom.” You remind him and storm out of his room before you can lose your temper even more.

-

A week later you’ve learned a few things about Tooru.

One, he needs longer in the bathroom than you. Especially in the mornings when you really have to pee.

Two, he has the worst diet you’ve ever seen and you lived with your diabetic grandfather until you moved here. How can he survive on coffee and Tortas Fritas and still look like someone cut him from marble a few hours ago?

Three, he never seems to sleep. Twice you’ve got up in the wee hours of the morning because your bladder insisted on it, only to find him up, watching sports on his laptop like a maniac.

Four, he owns at least five pairs of Alien-themed loungewear. That you know because he keeps forgetting to put his laundry away.

Which brings you to the fifth thing you’ve learned about him. He never, ever, ever puts his laundry away.

It’s a miracle he even knows how to start a washing cycle. But as soon as he presses the button he seems to forget that the machine even exists until you put the laundry basket in his room and insist that he hangs his clothes to dry. When you come back around and find that he hasn’t done that, you can either hang it up yourself to avoid the smell or nag him until he does it. Which in turn will lead to you nagging him about taking down the dry clothes. You suspect he just picks them from the clothes line whenever he needs to wear them, entirely foregoing his closet.

And you should be above this. He’s your roommate, not your friend. He’s a stranger and not part of your family. He’s not even a child, even though he acts like one. So even if you’re studying pediatric medicine, that does not mean you have to throw yourself in front of every man-toddler who seems to need your help.

But he does. And you cannot make yourself stop caring.

-

“Listen up, Buttercup.” You start the moment the door clicks shut behind him.

“Oh?” He asks, voice hopeful. The smile slips from his lips the moment he sees you.

Your hair is pushed away from your face thanks to the most ridiculous headband you own - it has two plush black crows sown onto both sides instead of cat ears because your little brother had both a sowing and a crow phase at the same time. You hold your spatula like a sword and point it at him.

“We’re cooking today.”

“I don’t need-”

“You cannot live by Tortas Fritas any longer.” You declare. “My medical degree will not allow it.”

“You don’t have a medical degree yet.”

“And you’re not Karch Kiraly but you sure act like him.”

That makes him perk up. “You know Karch Kiraly?” 

“Who doesn’t?” You throw an apron at him. “Get dressed.”

“Do I have to?”

“Do you want to ruin your clothes?”

He makes a face like he’s hurting. “It’s just… it has crows on it.”

“Yes, my brother made it. You can use your own apron if you cannot handle some cute crows.”

The hurt look intensifies but he wraps it around his body, fiddles with the strings.

“You’re hopeless.” You step behind him and tie it closed, making sure to pull it extra tight as punishment for last week's actions.

“Do you have any allergies? Sensory issues?”

“I don’t like slimy food.”

“Well, you’re in luck, we’re not making slime today.”

-

Tooru is, surprisingly enough, not a fool in the kitchen. He knows how to cut vegetables without hurting himself and he manages not to burn anything. 

But he talks. A lot.

His English is as good as your Japanese is rusty. His accent is kinda cute, but you choose to ignore that. His Spanish is downright criminal and you have to remind yourself of his awful laundry behaviors to keep from swooning every time he points at something and names it in Spanish.

“You’re very adamant.” You point out. “Your Spanish is good, you could probably slack off a day or two.”

The look he gives you has you shivering.

“Why should I slack off?” He asks. “What do I gain from that? Do you know how hard it is to get rid of your accent?”

There’s an intensity to his voice that makes you take a step back only to bump into the table behind you.

He stops, freezes, and for some inexplicable reason - ducks his head.

You stand there for a second, speechless and confused until he seems to realize that whatever he was waiting for isn’t coming. When he straightens up again, sadness washes over his face and you know that look - it’s Homesickness.

“Who are you missing right now?”

“Iwa-chan.” He turns around to flip the frittata. “He’s my best friend.”

“Did he ruffle your hair?” You ask, “Is that why you ducked your head?”

“No.” He laughs, still not facing you. It must be easier for him to be open like this when he’s not looking at you. “He’d throw Volleyballs at my head when I was misbehaving. I’m sorry, by the way. I didn’t want to scare you.”

“Like you could scare me.” You joke, trying to downplay the effect he really had on you.

“Oh, I can be scary when I want to be, don’t you try me.” He turns this time, but the smile on his face ruins the joke. You like him more when he’s honest instead of charming.

“So that Iwa-chan.” You move to plate the food. “He’s your mom? Mom-Friend? Did he also make sure you did your laundry and went to bed early and ate healthy?”

It’s more meant as a joke than a real question and you falter when you realize that you hit the nail on the head. 

Tooru seems to fold under your question. 

“Yes.” He pouts. “I thought… Well…” He grips the edge of the sink, stares out the window instead of facing you. “The team I play for offers housing. I had a nice apartment all to myself.”

“But you need the reinforcement of a second person to actually get your life together?”

“Yeah.” He doesn’t even sound ashamed about it.

You step forward, as close to him as you dare. When he turns, you level him with a glare, stick your pointer finger into his ridiculous buff chest. 

“You listen to me, you little shit. I am not your mother and I am not your Iwa-chan. I will not run after you and remind you to eat and take a shit and go to sleep. You are more than capable of doing it yourself.”

He opens his mouth to answer but you’re not done yet.

“If I catch you with another Tortas Fritas this month, I’ll whoop your ass.”

Tooru smiles so bright you can see a dimple forming. “Is that a promise?”

“Eat.” You turn away before he can see how flustered that comment made you.

-

Two days later you find him in the kitchen, making a ridiculous show of it as if he’s there to film an ad for an apron instead of cooking.

He’s bought an apron for himself. Something told you he wanted to buy an alien-themed one but couldn’t find one.

Should you tell him that Godzilla isn’t an alien? He seems pretty happy about the little guy destroying cities on the flimsy fabric.

It’s been a rough day for you. Both your period and your work studies have you rubbed raw. You want to crawl into bed, not think about the boy that came in today, the one who reminds you too much of your little brother.

“Hey, am I doing this right?” Tooru calls after you as you make your way to your bedroom to unload your stuff.

“For sure.” You croak out, half turned to look at him. 

There’s something in his smile that makes it look wobbly. Not for the first time you wonder if he’s just as homesick as you are. You drop your bag on the floor in front of your bedroom door and walk back to the kitchen.

“What are you making?”

“Curry.” He waves his spoon around like he’s a magician instead of a cook. “My mother’s recipe.”

“Oh, I don’t think I’ve ever tried Japanese Curry. Can I try?”

“Of course.” Tooru grins proudly. “I made enough for both of us. And there will be leftovers.”

“That’s neat. What’s the special ingredient?”

“No special ingredient. It’s a basic recipe, I can teach you if you want.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.” You lean against the sink, surprised when he pulls something from the fridge. 

“Iced coffee. Thought you might like one when you get home.”

“You’re a godsend.” You groan and take the first sip. You’re not sure what’s more effective at waking you up, the caffeine or the coolness of the drink against the heat of all of Argentina.

“You shouldn’t drink that much coffee.” He points out when you’re halfway done with the drink.

“You shouldn’t tell me what to do.”

“You could sleep more.”

“I will when you do it too.”

He looks up, a grin on his face that speaks of danger. “Deal.”

“What?”

“Bedtime for both of us. Does ten sound okay?”

“You’ll never be able to get to bed at ten. Don’t you have to bingewatch sports for five hours at night to feel complete?”

“Ouch. I’m just doing research.”

“Mhm, or you have a fetish.”

He laughs at that, loud and carefree. You like him like this.

“Tell me about your mom.” It sounds a little too harsh, but he doesn’t seem to mind that you’re demanding instead of asking.

He looks different when he speaks of his family. Younger and taller, both at the same time. Like he allows himself to be vulnerable and grows above himself through that. 

You wonder how he could ever think that his fake smile could work on women when his real smile is this attractive.

-

Days turn into weeks, into months.

Tooru is now the crowned king of the kitchen - after a few too many cooking battles that you’ve all sorely lost. It’s not that he doesn’t know how to cook, he just needs a reason to do so. He jokes it’s the smile on your face when you eat, but you don’t want to believe that.

It holds too many implications to believe it.

In turn, you’ve taken up all laundry duties. It’s a good system and you don’t have to nag him anymore. If he doesn’t put his dirty laundry out on Tuesdays, he will go without clean clothes for another week. Enforcing that rule has already gotten you plenty of pictures to use for blackmail, your favorite the one of him in a bright pink jumpsuit he was supposed to bring a friend. Pink suits his flustered face.

-

Iwa-chan is coming today. He’d told you about it weeks in advance when his friend booked the flight.Tooru has been like a headless chicken ever since and you’re happy for him, you really are, but there’s also a pang of jealousy. Why can’t your family take the time to visit you?

You know why, but it still hurts that you’re going to have to watch him be happy, pushed to the side in favor of his new friend.

“Hey.” He stops by your door, throws himself into a ridiculous pose like he always does and grins when you can’t help but roll your eyes. “I’m leaving in five minutes. Are you ready?”

You furrow your brows. “Ready for what? I told you you have to clean the apartment, he’s your guest.”

“No, to come with me, silly. I can’t go into the madness of an airport alone! What if someone recognizes you?”

“Well, they might do as a favor and kidnap you.” You joke and watch him pout. It’s ridiculous how cute that makes him look.

“Take that back.” Tooru whines and you laugh. “Never.

“Take that back!” He repeats, taking one step, then two, only to drop himself on you.

You shriek in surprise at the sudden weight, try to wiggle away but his face is so close, grinning from ear to ear, his eyes full of light.

You don’t really know who moved closer first. You, him, both of you? 

But your lips meet and your eyes close and it’s just him and you and your joined breath and the softness of his lips, his weight on you and your hands in his ridiculous fluffy hair.

You don’t speak for a while, don’t need too. Exploring this is more important.

Eventually he pulls away to press his temple against yours, to squint into his eyes.

“You like me?” He asks, voice uncharacterally shy. 

“I hate you.” You tease and move for his lips again. He pouts.

“Don’t tell anyone.” You whisper against his lips. “Okay? Don’t tell Tooru.”

“Just Iwa-chan.” He whispers back, caught in the feeling of it. “He’ll be able to guess it anyway.

You giggle against his lips, kiss him again, once, twice, until you can feel yourself getting lost in it again. But there’s a thought nibbling at the edge of your brain now and it gets louder.

“Tooru?” You ask when you pull back again. “Shouldn’t we leave for the airport?”

His eyes widen comically as he whips his head around to look at your alarm clock.

“Shit! He’s going to be so mad!”

-

Iwa-chan is a monument of muscle, a building of a man. He’s not that tall, at least not taller than Tooru, but he’s impressive in his sturdiness, arms folded in front of his chest as he glowers at Tooru.

Tooru seems totally unimpressed by that, even as you drag your feet, a little scared of his friend. 

“Iwa-chaaaan!” He sings, drapes himself over his friend's shoulder. “I missed you!”

“Clearly you didn’t! You’re half an hour late!”

“It’s not my fault.” Tooru smiles coyly, pulling you close by the hand he’d been holding since you exited his car. “Can you blame me? I got distracted by beauty!”

“I…” You stumble. “I’m sorry. This time it really is my fault. But I kicked his ass on the way here.”

Iwa-chan’s lips quirk up into a hint of a smile.

“Good. I’ll leave the rest of the ass-kicking to you.”

You salute him, which has Tooru whining like a child and begging for mercy.

You pull at his ear, just enough to tease him. 

“Come on.” You tell him. “You need to show Iwa-chan how well you cleaned your apartment.”

-

Tagging anyone who helped me - it was much appreciated:

@alienaiver @misfit-megumi @missalienqueen @amecchii @notsochillnerd @ur-local-simp @krishnaabhistha @fuzztacular

Hope I didn't forget anyone. If I did, forgive me!

my Kofi if you want to tip me

[five-rivers]

Jack Fenton and Doc Saturday cross paths for the first time while shopping for XXL hazmat black and orange jumpsuits. Because there's only so many places they could possibly get those from.

There were many hazmat stores in North America. Sad as it may be, there were a great many dangerous materials in the world that required them. The number of stores that sold hypoallergenic hazmat was smaller. The number of stores that sold hypoallergenic hazmat that could be easily treated to be ectophobic was smaller still. The number of stores that sold hypoallergenic hazmat that could be easily treated to be ectophobic in teal and orange was tiny. The number of stores that sold hypoallergenic hazmat that could be easily treated to be ectophobic in teal and orange and both extra extra large and child sizes was exactly one.

Therefore, every couple of years Jack and Maddie would load up the kids (six and four, this year!) and take the long drive to Harold Hardy's Hazmat Hut (which was, in fact, a massive warehouse). It was worth it!

.

There were a great many hazmat suppliers in the world. Some were big, some were small, some were specialized, some were less so. In their globe-trotting career, the Saturdays hadn't cared much about location or brand, only quality and whether or not they could hold up against both the rigors of combat and the vast array of biological substances the cryptids they studied produced.

But Zak was two, now, and as he grew he grew more interested in what his parents were doing, and well…

Doc had never expected to be shopping for toddler-sized hazmat suits in a place called Harold Hardy's Hazmat Hut. The place radiated sketchiness in a way he generally only experienced after falling into a tourist trap.

Drew had found several suits she liked and gone to the children's section to look for something for Zak, which left Doc to sift through the upper end of the adult section to sift through XLs in search of an XXL. Stores like this never had his size…

.

Jack preferred shopping with Maddie to shopping solo, but he wasn't going to stop her from connecting with a fellow mom! There were just so few women in science, even in this day and age.

Anyway, he knew where the XXL suits were, so he took himself off in that direction.

On his way there, though, he saw a man who was almost as tall as he was glaring down at a rack of XLs. That wouldn't do!

"Heyo!" said Jack, cheerfully. "Looking for the XXLs?"

The man looked up, brow furrowed. "Yes, actually."

"I can show you where they are!"

The man nodded.

"My name's Jack, by the way! Jack Fenton!"

"Doc Saturday. Do you work here?"

"Nah! Repeat customer. Maddie and I have been coming here for years! The kids, too! We're a Harold Hardy family, we Fentons!"

"You have children?"

"Two of 'em! Six and four, a girl and a boy! You?"

"Just one boy, for now. Are the children's hazmat suits here any good?"

"Eh, we've got to modify them a bit for our work, but they stand up about as well as the adult ones, otherwise. What field are you in? Industrial chemicals? Pathogens? It's ectology and thanatology for me and Maddie!"

"Biology and zoology, mostly."

"Oooh, nice. You'll probably want this brand, then!" He plunged his hand into the shelf seemingly at random and pulled out an XXL packaged suit. "They do a lot of other sizes, too, so you can match with the whole family!"

Doc took the package. "I'll have to review the specifications myself, but… thank you."

"No problem, Doc! Anything to help out a fellow scientist! Say, how old is your kid? Maybe we can set up a playdate for them!"

[siremasterlawrence]

Stalker (A Twisted Chris Evans Love Story)

Chris Evans is walking home from a lengthy extended climb up a mountain area as he is returning home he dug into his pocket as he walks into the side of the road sending that something off. He wants to believe that it’s all in his head but it’s obvious it is not as he ships clearly seeing a shadowy figure brush past the leaves craving him off guard and he rushes into his pocket. Chris shook his head thinking about how it is utterly ridiculous this all is, he is in deep fear of his life since that chance meeting at the red carpet event and remembers it all too well. He sighs as the jet black limo stops as the door pops open swinging to the side as he is stepping out onto the stylish red carpet and made another one of these lame movie events. He places a fake smile on his face as it is plastered for everyone to see giving all of the camera men a good show in that sexy toned blue suit, black shirt and silky black shades. He puts his hand up in the air waving at the camera lens with bright lights flashing in his face as he ships cold, his mind rushes into him soon everything begins to fade along with his mind. This young man hops over the gate coming face to face with his acting idol as the man places a hand on his shoulder with a kind smile that warms Chris heart and he begins to feel safe. Nothing in this world matters to him except to listen to the interviewers load of questions that came sparkling through his sweet mouth and his eye begin to glisten brightly. Chris eyes meet his eye lines as the world is swirling away all mixing together into a new realm as all everything’s and every one is mixing together and blending existence into one things. “Mr. Evans! Nice to finally meet your acquaintance! What is your favorite role that you have played up to now? Mine is Captain America, Ransom, Luke and my boy Johnny .” I say speaking from my soul.

“Chris? Chris? Where are you? Boo”

“Who are you? You are that guy right.”

“What guy? Mmmmwwwwwwaaaaaa”

“Did you just blow me a kiss?”

“You hated it?”

“Stay the fuck away from me”

“I will blowing much more of you “

“Oh Fuck you!”

“Language “

“Shit! Sorry “

“Your downfall begin now”

“What did I ever do to you ?”

“You saw me! You showed me such kindness”

“I knew we belonged together “

“I am married “

“Fuck that!”

“Do you see her?”

“I am in the forest “

“Are you? You are at home dummy”

“Of course! Sorry I am a dumbass “

“Love that Bostonian accent “

“It’s average”

“Like your package”

“Hey woah! That is no man’s land “

“I want to play it with it not suck it”

“You are a fucking liar”

“I don’t submit but I want you to claim you as my bitch”

Chris eyes stir back to the real world sighing as he looks at the ceiling with super smiling so silly it is unbelievable as the nightmare that he escaped a minute ago with that stalker. That is until he attempts to get up his body comes to realization of his current situation as his body struggles to undo the metal restraints holding him down and yankhim down.The fear apparent on his face calls to him in a strange bed fellow kind of way he may be into this, does he actually the terror aspect of his life? Can he really be into type fear kink? That is sick! He cannot be that guy to be in the most vulnerable person in the world holding him back a bit he slowly tries to calm himself down and find a way to leave this shit.The man is in the house he freaks out thinks to himself he could free himself maybes as he envisions his body, he could race up to the windows pulling it up a she struggles to exit the window and he makes a major run for it crossing the street then past all of the area. He felt the sweat piling onto him profusely as his brow began to itch as he footsteps growing more intense and even louder as he climbs up to the main and floor entering the room the door closes up leaving us no room to escape and Chris knew there is no way for him to win. “Hey Chris! Chris Evans! Pretending to not hear me because you can’t stand the sight of me. Replacing me with someone of something you like can’t and won’t work Chris. Since I am the real man here.” He whispers kneeling down to him as he places kissing map from Chris lips to his cheek and blowing air into his ear as Chris trembles with shakes at my power and soon he will be in love with him.

“Will you be mine without any issues?”

“I love you”

“Get off!”

“Why should I get off?”

“You should beg me”

“I am telling you GET OFF”

“Fuck that Will you surrender nicely”

“Get a life “

“I do”

“And maybe?”

“I want yours “

“You need to release me or my wife “

“Your wife, your wife “

“Yeah! Take my hand”

“Your wife is not here”

“She will be soon”

“And she is not coming back”

“So forget about it”

“I think…wait”

“What was I saying “

“How much you love me”

“I love my stalker “

“No! You are my stalker “

“Oh Hey!

“How did you find me Chris?”

“Don’t be scared of me”

“No! No! Ssssshhhhh”

“I just want to have some fun”

“At my expense “

“No with you “

The end

[rmoonstoner]

***

Poisoned Empanadas

***

Pairing:

Moon Knight (Jake Lockley) x Spider!fem!reader

Spider-Man 2099 (Miguel O'Hara) x Spider!fem!reader

***

18+

Warnings:

Violence, strong language, mentions of death, mentions of depression, sexual themes, warnings may change.

***

Summary:

You move out of the old house at your friend's request. It's a very short chapter.

***

Chapter 2 - Empanadas de Santa Rita - Chihuahua City, Mexico

A Mexican pastry served in honor of St. Rita every year on May 22. Typically they are sweet and savory at the same time, containing meats, raisins, pecans, butter, garlic and assorted spices, peas, potatoes, and sherry.

***

A few months had gone by, with absolutely no word from Jake. You weren't surprised one bit, and had already gone through the process of selling most of your things. It was the big stuff, like your living room furniture, the bedroom set, any tools you had, and other such things too big for a studio apartment that you had your eye on. You even got rid of the car for a nice fat stack of cash. It was fitting that you had sold the car to Hawkeye. He was happy, and claimed that he was going to give it to his wife.

Today you were dropping off a huge bag of clothing to a local shelter. Anything that Gwen or America didn't want, ended up here. You made the old lady's day as she went through the nice and gently used items, all of which Jake had bought for you. After the drop off, you made your way back home the easy way, by web slinging home. By the time you got back, you found Peter standing at your front door.

"Hey! Sorry, I was out dropping off some clothes. You didn't mention that you were coming by." You greeted Peter with a wave and gave him a hug.

"It's alright. I was just on my way to the Sanctum, and I wanted to know if you wanted to accompany me?" He asked with grin.

"Really? You sure you want me to come along? You did mention the doctor hates unexpected guests…" You replied. Peter could see your hesitancy and he held both hands up.

"It's totally okay with Doctor Strange. I asked first, and besides, you're friends with his daughter, so…"

"Does he know-"

"Uh…" Peter looked away sheepishly as he rubbed his neck and laughed.

"Peter! Just because he's an Avenger and the king of the wizards, you can't be telling people my secret identity!"

"I am sorry! He saw you on the roof the last few times, and he wanted to know why I hadn't introduced you to him. Then America let it slip she's your friend, and, so… He kind of figured it out. He's a genius, and has that eidetic memory."

"Oh fantastic, a real Sherlock Holmes type, eh?" You retorted, and he laughed.

"Yeah, so I am sorry…"

"It's fine. Like you said, he probably already knew. I'm not mad."

"Oh good! So, do you need to do anything before we go?"

"I just need to put the washing on the next load of donations, then grab some water."

"Cool!"

***

***

Once at the Sanctum, Peter introduced you to Wong. The man seemed grumpy at first, but after hearing who you were, he changed his tune rather quickly. He made you a tea while Peter left to find the doctor, and the two of you chatted about how Peter basically lived here at the Sanctum since his Aunt and Tony Stark had passed away. He asked about what you did for a living, and you shrugged. You didn't have a paying job, and you lived in your ex boyfriend's house, which you were getting ready to move out of.

Wong seemed impressed that you were taking charge and moving on with your life, which told you that Peter had been blabbing his mouth again. You would have normally been upset by this, but Peter had told you all about who Wong was, what he did, and who he worked with. He was like the other king of the wizards, and Peter claimed he was way nicer than Strange. You found that hard to believe, because both of the wizards had a reputation for being formal hard asses.

Peter ended up coming back with Doctor Strange, and the lad was just talking up a storm as the doctor nodded along while sipping from a steaming mug. The way they looked was adorable, like a son telling their dad all about their day after school, but it was Peter talking about his patrols, while the older man listened intently.

"-And then she flashed him with the lights, kicked the guy in the balls, and he fell off of the roof. I've never seen Sandman go down that fast before! She managed to get him, before he could turn into sand!"

"Oh wow, Peter. That's most impressive." The doctor winced a bit, but he was impressed all the same.

"I take it that this her?" He asked as he motioned towards you. You gave a polite smile and waved.

"Yeah, that's her! You should see her and Gwen work as a team! It's so fun! She's the one making all the weird lights at night." Peter said as he made the same hand motions you did for the lights. You laughed and looked over at the older man who was chuckling softly at Peter's energy.

"Ah, I see. Well, in that case, it's lovely to meet you, young lady. My name is Stephen, but you already knew that, didn't you?"

"Uh, yes, sir, er, uh, doctor."

"Stephen is fine. Any friends of Peter's or America's are welcome to use my first name. Unless, of course, I don't like them." He laughed and held his hand out to you. You took it gently, remembering that Peter had told you the man had delicate hands that had once been crushed.

"Okay, Stephen, it is nice to meet you too. I always wanted to see what America's and Peter's adopted dad was like."

"Oh, well, I-" Stephen seemed flustered when you said adopted dad.

"Oh, he's a good dad. Very supportive of my Spider-Man gig." Peter said as he patted Stephen's shoulder. The man beamed at the praise and kept drinking his tea. You didn't understand why he was known for being snobby, stoic, and rude.

"That's good. Peter talks about you all the time. Says you've saved the world a lot, and kept the spooky magic things at bay." You remarked, and Stephen burst out laughing.

"I suppose that's what I do. It's a new way of saying it though. Oh, I have to talk to ask Wong something. Be right back." Stephen smiled and then excused himself to go talk with Wong for a bit.

They did not come right back.

It was three hours before they did, and by then, America had come home, said hi, then left again for her studies at the Kamar-Taj. You had spent the time playing chess, and had won three to two. When Stephen and Wong came walking in, they looked frustrated. It turned out there had been one of those cosmic fluctuations, and Stephen was telling Peter and you to keep an eye out for anything weirder than normal. 

You left soon after, and went back home to grab a nap before patrol later.

***

Three weeks later…

Peter and Gwen had convinced you to move out of the house Jake owned. You didn't make it easy for them either. You felt reluctant to leave that house. It had bad memories, but it also held so many good ones with Jake.

You gave the excuse that you couldn't afford to move. The house and utilities were paid for, and you didn't have a paying job to get something new. Peter shut you up so fast by having Stephen and Wong literally coming out at that exact moment and time to offer you a room next to America's and Peter's. You groaned when that happened, because who the hell says no to the Sorcerer Supreme, which was basically your friend's dad?

That gave you a free place to live, free utilities, and free food. That also offered you access to being transported anywhere in the world if you ever wished it, not that you really wanted to unless the others needed you to. You had lost the will to travel after what happened with your ex, but it was nice that the option was there. Living there would gain you security, because there were at least three sorcerers at the Sanctum at any given time, not including Doctor Strange or Wong who were fully aware of your relationship problems.

They even said they could keep Jake from coming in if you gave them some of his hair. That was easy to do, and you did it, mostly because Peter and Gwen said they'd try to kick his ass if he showed up unannounced. You weren't sure if they meant the wizards, or themselves.

Plus your friends were there…

How could you refuse?

Notes:

***

Series Master List

***

None for now. Again, sorry for the short chapter.

Tags:

@theaussiedragon @autismsupermusicalassassin @readingfan

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Pretty Pointy Smile Chapter 3

Summary:  Bucky was born different, and has been judged for it ever since.  His father has had enough and sells him to the circus.  The acceptance and love of his newfound family, and the beautifully fierce ringmaster, help him realize he’s not the monster everyone else made him out to be.

vampire!bucky barnes x curvy!reader This is set in more of like the 1950-60s/ish time period. Warnings: eventual smut, physical assault, a gun, a lion attack

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The vampire act was a hit, just as Y/N predicted.  Tickets were selling out almost immediately every time they touched down in a new town.  The story of the vampire in America was spreading quickly, and Y/N couldn’t be happier.  And if she was being honest with herself, as great as the money was, she enjoyed doing the act, as it gave her more time to be with Bucky.  

They had grown into a deep friendship, where he was always there to be like a right hand man, backing her up on decisions and giving advice where warranted.  His smile grew daily as he embraced his teeth.  The fangs made him even more handsome than he already was, and she at times had to look away from him for fear of not trusting herself to act appropriately.  She had told herself it was best to never be with a fellow circus member romantically, especially since she was the boss.  Yet she was finding it harder by the day as he would hold her possessively as he “fed” from her every night.

As the circus was being packed to leave for the next town after another successful night, Bucky was folding up tarps and loading them into a truck bed near the edge of the circus when he heard the taunting.

“Is that the vampire?” a young man’s voice rang out from behind him.  Bucky stiffened but didn’t turn around, pretending like he hadn’t heard him.

“Hey you, with the tarp, turn around!” another voice hollered.  Bucky quickly loaded the last few things and shut the truck bed door, rounding to the front of the truck and back towards where the others were fixing things up.

“Hey man, I was talking to you!” a voice much closer said, and a hand wrenched Bucky to turn around.  He came face to face with a few young men, standing close and looking at him suspiciously.

“No, you must be mistaken,” Bucky said through pursed lips, trying to hide his teeth.  

“Nah, see you look just like the vampire.  See I told you it’s all fake.  Circuses are just illusions,” the first man nudged the one next to him.

“I’m sorry, it’s not me.  Excuse me,” Bucky tried to end the conversation and turned to leave but was pulled back.

“Hey where do you think you’re going, you demon?” another demanded.  “Monsters like you don’t get to just walk around among normal people,” he spat at Bucky then punched him in the gut.  Bucky doubled over, gasping for air as he held his stomach.  “Go back to hell where you belong,” the first man said, kicking the back of one of his legs so he fell on his face.

“Get him!” one of them yelled, and the assault began.  All Bucky could feel was pain.  He tried to fight back, tried to cover his face but would be doubled over again by a kick, a slap, and someone trying to rip at his hair.

*BANG*

A shot rang out that made them all immediately stop.  Bucky slowly looked up until he saw Y/N holding a rifle, pointed at the group of men.  Next to her stood Peter, the strong man Thor, and the lion tamer Steve holding back one of the younger lions, each of them looking ready to wage war.  He had seen Y/N angry before, but this was different.  This was maniacal.

“Get away from him, NOW!” she screamed.

The men moved away from Bucky, slowly backing up.

“Now ma’am, there’s no need for that.  We were just taking care of the vampire that’s obsessed with you, we were trying to save–”

“SAVE ME?” She looked like a nerve was about to pop.  “You filthy, lowdown, Jesus cock-sucking neanderthals think I need saving?” Y/N laughed, her smile and her eyes too wide for it to look natural.  “But who’s going to save you?” The men all looked at each other in fear, trying to back away faster.  “Get ‘em,” she hissed towards Steve.  He smiled and let go of the collar on the lion.  The men screamed and ran as the lion chased after them.  Two of them made it out but the third wasn’t so lucky, getting taken down quickly, the lion ripping into the man’s arm.  

“Saber!  *whoot*” Steve whistled.  The lion immediately stopped, dropping the man’s tattered but still attached arm, then jogged back to Steve like a puppy.  “Good girl,” he congratulated her as she came close, grabbing her collar and feeding her a large piece of meat.  The man struggled to stand and ran out of the fairgrounds.

“Should we call the police?” Peter suggested nonchalantly.

“Yes, tell them some troublemakers beat one of our staff and tried to mess with the lions,” Thor said quietly.  Peter quickly ran off.

Y/N ran over to Bucky, falling to the ground and crouching over him protectively.  “Bucky, oh Buck, you poor thing,” her hands hovered over him, afraid to touch in case she caused more pain.  

“Y/N,” Bucky mumbled as he looked up at her.  His upper lip was swollen, a black eye forming quickly, and his voice sounded wheezy as he tried to breath.

Thor walked over and carefully picked Bucky up, making him cry out in pain.  “Come lad, let’s get you looked at.”

“My tent,” Y/N instructed, reaching a hand out and touching Bucky’s leg as they all marched to the corner tent.  “Steve, go get our doctor.”

“Yes ma’am,” Steve said then ran in the opposite direction with Saber hot on his heels.

Thor set Bucky down on Y/N’s bed, giving him a once-over.  “It sounds like he might have cracked or broken ribs.  And this lip is stuck on his fang,” he said pointing to his face.

“Thank you, Thor.  Please watch for the doctor outside while I try to clean him up a bit,” Y/N said, pushing him out while grabbing a bag from her vanity.  As Thor left she came back to Bucky.

“Okay, love, this is going to hurt but I need you to take your shirt off,” she said, tugging lightly at the hem of his shirt.  Bucky nodded and shifted as best as he could as she pulled it up and over his head.  He hissed and moaned at the pain in his side, his eyes shut tight as he tried to lay perfectly still.  “I’m sorry,” Y/N whispered as she tucked the shirt off to the side.  She flitted around him, assessing the injuries that needed immediate attention.  She grabbed a bottle and a rag from the bag, tipping the bottle over to the rag then softly reaching it up to his face.

“This is witch hazel, should help with the bruising and swelling,” she said as she wiped the rag along his face.  It stung a little but wasn’t bad.  She then brought her fingers towards his mouth.  “Let’s get this lip off your tooth, okay?  It’s probably very sensitive, so I apologize in advance,” she warned, then gingerly grabbed his lip between two fingers and started pulling it down and away to unhook it from his fang.  Bucky hissed again, gritting his teeth as his lip bled when it was free from the fang.  Y/N grimaced and quickly wiped at his lip with the witch hazel, grabbing another rag to dab at the bleeding.  

“I’m so sorry, Bucky.  I’m so sorry this happened,” Y/N sniffled, slow tears falling from her eyes as she tried cleaning off the dust from his face and down his neck.  

Bucky frowned, reaching one of his hands to her wrist and giving it a squeeze. “Why are you sorry?  It’s not your fault.  This has been happening to me for my whole life, Y/N.  Usually I can fight back pretty well.  I just wasn’t expecting it this time.”

“No, you shouldn’t have to do that!” she cried, her hands busying themselves and wiping the dirt and sweat off his chest, applying more witch hazel over the bruising along his ribs.  “Why do people have to be so awful?” she whispered as she finished up her cleaning, throwing the rags off to the side.  “To you, the sweetest, most gentle man.  I just…I don’t understand.”

Bucky watched her, his eyes widening as she praised him.  “Y/N, I–”

“The doctor is here,” Thor announced, throwing open the tent door.

“Oh, yes,” Y/N jumped up and quickly wiped away her tear stained cheeks.  “Happy, please help him.”

“Hm,” Happy leaned down and inspected Bucky.  He gave a small push to Bucky’s ribs, making him hiss, then pulled out an instrument that looked like a tiny trumpet, placing it against the area near Bucky’s ribs and putting his ear to the other side of it, listening to his breathing.  After a few more pokes and prods, then applying some bandages, he stood up straight.

“Cracked ribs, but not fully broken.  That’s why he sounds wheezy.  He’ll need to sit still as best as he can for a few weeks to let it heal properly.  The lip and the black eye are superficial, they should clear up fine.  You were lucky, vampy,” Happy said as he packed up his bag.  “But no more vamping for a while.  And you’ll need to change his dressings once a day.  If anything changes just let me know.”

“Thank you, Happy,” Y/N sighed, rubbing her face and sitting back down next to Bucky on the bed.

“No problem, stay still Buck.”

“You got it doc,” Bucky sassed back, giving him a thumbs up.

Happy snorted and left with Thor.  The silence settled between them.  Bucky stared at Y/N as she looked at her hands in her lap.  “Are you okay, Y/N?” he asked quietly.

Her eyes flashed up to his face then back to her hands as her eyebrows furrowed.  More tears started to form in her eyes, spilling quickly down her cheeks.  “I could have killed them,” she mumbled as she wrung her hands together.  Bucky watched her emotions fly across her face: rage, despair, frustration, the mania he’d seen from before when she’d sicked the lion on them.  “I wanted to.  I wanted to shoot each of them.  I wanted to let Saber eat them all.  I wanted to scream at Steve for stopping her.  I wanted…” she tapered off, a sob breaking through her normally unbothered facade which she quickly stifled behind her fist.

Bucky shifted again, gasping at the effort, until he could sit up more in her pillows and reach to pull her hands away.  “Hey now, angel face, none of that,” he cooed at her.  “I don’t want you crying over me, I’m going to be okay.”  He pulled her hand closest to him to his lips and softly kissed her knuckles, careful not to agitate his busted lip.  She looked at him with sad bloodshot eyes.  Her expression quickly turned to one of confusion, a small smile gracing her face.

“Did you just call me angel face?” she asked in a teasing tone.

“Yep, I did,” Bucky reaffirmed.  “Cuz you are an angel to me.”

“A dirty angel,” she scoffed, a sweeping hand gesturing to her tattoos.

“Oh no, angel face, those are just the icing on the cake,” he gave her a lopsided grin.  “Looking like a stained glass window.  A walking art gallery,” he complimented her heavily.

“Is the pain making you a shameless flirt now, Buck?” she laughed.  

“Deliriously so, yes,” he agreed, keeping her hand in his and rubbing her knuckles with his thumb.  He closed his eyes, feeling the exhaustion of the day catching up to him.

“Well, flirt with me in your dreams, Buck,” he heard her say, then felt a shifting of the bed and the soft press of lips to his cheek, very close to the side of his mouth.  “You might just get lucky.”

Bucky smiled as he drifted off to sleep.

**picture is from Pinterest, it's AI so "artist" or "creator" is unknown**

[odue-sp]

Saw a TikTok. So here you go.

Aizawa x Male reader

M/n is quirkless. A foreign hero and is quite good friends with Aizawa. A very skilled hero even without a quirk... But... M/n likes to annoy the Japan branch by being the most American he can be. In reality, with Aizawa (including Hizashi) he acts like his normal self.

All Might feels nothing but embarrassment.

"Woof! Woof! USA! USA!" The hero shouted jumping on the table in the cafeteria after hearing that the state won a game. Students looked confused before All Might covered his face in embarrassment. "Suck it mother fuckers!" All Might grabbed him by his shirt, dragging him out.

"Is that a cow!? Aye, let's go ride it!" The h/c male shouted hopping over the fence, the other heroes stared in shock trying to get him away from the cows. "My uncle's a butcher! I can cut this pretty girl up in no time! Meat! Meat! Meat!"

"That's a villain?" H/n asked staring at the strange dressed thing? "Looks like..." He snorted covering his mouth. "That's his name? Pfft!" He laughed as he turned his head away. "Sorry, sorry, I couldn't help but remember a villain I fought that dressed like a cow... You look like her... Hahaha!"

"What are you doing!?" The s/c hero shouted at the students who looked confused as he walked over. "Do you not know how to load a gun?" He points at Snipe. "Have you no pride cowboy?!" Snipe looked shocked and shook his hands. "I'm not American!"

These were a few moments that H/n showed his pride as an American.

"What the hell?!" A hero shouted holding H/n by the scruff of his neck. "What do you mean you have no quirk?!" It was during the big fight with the Japan Mafia. M/n only smiled. "My quirk is being an American. Quite powerful, ain't it?" The hero stared in shock. The hero threw him down, the male coughed up blood. He winced before feeling fabric wrap around him. He let out a gasp. "Aizawa!"

"I know you're playing around, but this is serious." He scolded the hero who looked confused. Aizawa smacked the back of his head pretty harshly. "Cut it out, M/n." His whole demeanor changed. "Hehe, it was fun though. Playing it up made them leave me alone." He said while glancing at the heros who seemed angered.

"but is it really such a bad thing I'm quirkless?" He was confused. "Tsk. I wanna go back to the states. This country is so... Fucked." His crossed his arms. "You can fight them. I'm bored! Aizawa let's go to the car cafe!" Aizawa looked down at the s/c male who stiffened. "Go." He turned to leave before his shoulder was grabbed. "I meant to fight!" The heroes protested.

"Awe, this country is really beautiful. Too bad the people here are pretty fucked." He pulled out a gun. "I can understand why there's so many villains here." He grabbed the suitcase from Aizawa.."I'll be back darling!"

He rushed into the hallway that the heroes couldn't clear. He shot them all, aiming for where their quirks advanced or needed. Throat, eyes, hands, fingers, even hair. He pulled out a knife, slashing and cutting as he jumped on their backs. "Don't kill them!" Aizawa shouted as he saw the hero aim for the killing move. "Self defense!" "This isn't America!"

The hallway was covered in blood, H/n wasn't clean either. Every time the heroes had a hard time clearing a way, H/n stepped up with just a gun and knife. Pure skill that none of them expected out of a quirkless. One could wonder what would've happened if Izuku met this hero first instead of All Might. "Crazy. We need to lock him up." A hero whispered. "There's no need," Aizawa called out glaring at them. "Because he's quirkless yet skilled you want him locked up? Idiots." The s/c smiled waving at the group. "Clear!"

Then it happened. H/n's eyes widened seeing the red bullets aiming for the heroes. Shots rang out but they never hit the said heroes.

They managed to win.

"M/n?"

Aizawa glanced to see the hero looking at the girl they saved. "I'm glad." Aizawa looked confused before he fell to the floor. "You didn't have that jacket on before..." His hands removed the jacket. Quirk erasing bullets riddled his body. "Hey, what did you do?" A hero spoke confused at the many bullets. "I'm... Quirkless. I'm nothing special," his eyes watered as he looked at Aizawa. "It hurts less looking at you pretty boy." He choked on blood as he reached over and held his face. "You all may be shitty... But you're heroes... If I die, it won't matter when they find out I'm quirkless..."

"I'll just be called fake, crazy, stupid..." His tears continued to flow. "But hey, it was a fun ride. I made an impression by being the most american... Do you know how much I hate myself for saying that shit?"

He coughed up blood as his eyes slowly faded dull.

"damn... I really wanted to bother you all more..."

"I wanted to..." His voice went silent as he closed his eyes. "Kiss you."

[oldshowbiz]

To the public Red Skelton was the God and country comedian. He recorded a best-selling version of the Pledge of Allegiance and told reporters that he read the bible every night before going to bed. His friends and colleagues say it was just an act to ingratiate himself to the public.

Television producer George Schlatter worked on The Judy Garland Show at CBS Television City, just one soundstage over from The Red Skelton Show. Schlatter says, “Red Skelton was a phony with all his God bullshit. He ended every show saying, ‘God Bless.’ Then you realize that his dress rehearsal was the filthiest event in town. They did the dirtiest dress rehearsal and then he would go on and do this, ‘God Bless,’ and the country and the flag and all this shit. He was a dirty old man.”

According to the FBI, Skelton possessed one of the largest collections of pornography in Hollywood. A Bureau memo from the 1940s said that “during the course of an investigation of a purported ring of obscene motion picture operators in Hollywood, information was received that the best known customers for obscene film in Hollywood were Red Skelton, Lou Costello, and George Raft.”

The contradiction between his public front and his personal life was the stuff of tabloid legend.

“Red’s constant drinking when he had his CBS radio show was the whisper of the microphone colony,” reported the trashy magazine Confidential. “Often his hands would be shaking so badly he could hardly get into his clothes to begin the show.” The tabloid claimed Skelton regularly “terrifies wife and kids with loaded pistols.”

Skelton was often criticized for laughing at his own jokes or breaking up in the middle of a scene. It was an ancient stage trick. Skelton knew that if you lost it on camera, it often made the audience laugh harder. It was a gimmick despised by fellow comedians who saw right through it.

“Dreadful,” said Stan Laurel of Laurel and Hardy fame. “Just dreadful. I love his talent but I hate … when he does that deliberate and undeliberate breaking up. In my opinion this is the worst possible thing any comedian can do – the worst. And he even lets some of his untalented guests do it. Dreadful.”

Many viewers felt the same. Patty Valentine of Cincinnati wrote, “There is only one person laughing at him and that is himself. He thinks he is funny but no one else does.”

By 1964 the program hadn’t changed much since its first episode back in 1950. The show got strong ratings, but the demographics were far too old for the sponsor’s liking. In an attempt to court the youth market, Van Bernard Productions, Skelton’s production company, negotiated an exclusive deal with Sir Lew Grade in the UK to provide British Invasion rock groups for the show. Changing its name to The Red Skelton Hour, the program presented The Kinks singing “Got Love If You Want It,” Manfred Mann doing “Do Wah Diddy Diddy,” The Hollies performing “Look Through Any Window,” and The Animals playing “We Gotta Get Out of This Place.”

Skelton introduced many British Invasion groups to Middle America for the very first time. But he promised his elderly demographic that he didn’t fully approve, always cracking jokes about their hair and fashion sense.

[sehtoast]

In His Hour of Need (Homelander x Reader)

18+

3.3k - Warning: Masturbation, brief voyeurism, oral sex, anal sex, vaginal sex, multiple orgasms, face sitting, Homelander is an underwear thief.

!please note, Y/n is written as a pre-bottom surgery trans man. otherwise, the vast majority of Y/n's physical descriptors (eye color, hair color, etc) are kept to a minimum for the sake of reader inclusivity- and also lmao i basically stole spiderman for Y/n's supe identity, so there are some references to that

“Ungh, fuck…” John hissed, his voice echoing weakly in his apartment bedroom as he worked two fingers into his ass.  He’d had to make do all on his own, as Vought saw fit to schedule Y/n for a whole day’s worth of PR bullshit.

He pulled out all of the stops.  First, he’d gone to Y/n’s apartment and borrowed the silicone dildo he was all too well acquainted with.  Then, one of Y/n’s blankets– his favorite one, actually.  And finally, the pair of underwear Homelander had stolen from the bug long ago, his lover’s scent still lingering on the fabric, if only faintly.

John made a mental note to ‘borrow’ another pair.

His cock stood at attention, precum dribbling from the tip to leak down his length, twitching each time he brushed over that utterly delicious spot buried within him.  He mimicked the way Y/n would do it.  He pressed his finger gently, rolling it in featherlight circles before pushing against it and dragging down.  A desperate whine slipped from his lips, mixed partially with frustration.

It just wasn’t the same.

John tried again, this time pressing Y/n’s boxer briefs to his nose, breathing in deeply, imagining his lover’s cunt was directly in front of his face, tantalizingly close, yet too far to partake.

He’d long ago sent a text to Y/n.

’Fucking ditch those idiots and come sit on my face,’ he’d said, disguising his needy plea as a command.  His messages only grew in desperation as time passed.

’I want to bury my dick in you as far as I can.’

'I wonder how many loads you could take without me pulling out… I bet we could find the answer.’

’Please, Y/n.  I need you.’

’I’ll be so good for you. Please come home.'

'Please take care of me. I’ll be a good boy.”

That was hours ago, and he finally caved and decided to take matters into his own hands.

He hovered over the dildo, the cold, lube soaked tip grazing his stretched hole.  Homelander shut his eyes, breathing in the fabric once more, imagining it was Y/n below him, that his lover’s hands were gripping his hips to sink him down, to stretch and fill him just the way he liked.

His thighs shook with anticipation as he lowered himself, inch by glorious inch working a sultry moan free from his throat.  He gripped at the false pecs of his suit top, pressing and rubbing hard enough to stimulate his nipples underneath.

“Ah, Y/n…” he keened when he sank the rest of the way down, the silicone cock now buried firmly in his ass.  He reached up to tug a handful of his blonde locks.  “I’ll be a good boy!” He gasped, beginning to roll his hips.  He gripped the blanket beneath him, the feel of it deluding him into believing he was in Y/n’s bed.  “I’ll be so good for you, hnngh!”

He kept at it for a while, fucking himself against Y/n’s dildo, trying desperately to build up his release.  Homelander reached down to pump his cock for a time before releasing it, grumbling in frustration.

It wasn’t enough.

He shut his eyes and began to bounce harder against the toy, grunting each time, the sound surely causing the historical figures plastering his walls to turn their heads in embarrassment.

Who fucking cares what ol' George thinks about America's symbolic hero taking it up the ass? 

“I’ll be good for you!”

John didn’t even hear the sound of quiet footfalls entering the room, trailing to stand by the head of the bed, away from where he could see.

Y/n stood with his arms crossed, a deviously lustful smile on his face as he watched John fuck himself desperately, utterly adoring the sight of his leaky cock bouncing with his efforts, occasionally smacking against the bottom of his suit top to stain the eagle-patterned fabric with little threads of precum. And the sounds? God, he'd never grow tired of just how vocal Homelander could get. 

The web-head finally had an answer as to where his favorite underwear went.  As of now, they were clenched firmly between John’s teeth as he sucked on them like his life depended on it.  Little groans and grunts were muffled by the fabric, and Y/n felt the beginnings of his own arousal pool in his underwear.

Y/n had demanded an extended lunch break, and fuck, was he glad he did.  He’d found a way to connect his phone to the heads-up-display in his lenses, and his jaw dropped the minute John’s scandalous messages met his retinas.  After that, he was clearly in a hurry, much to the dismay of the Vought officials coordinating the event.

Fuck ‘em.

Y/n wasn’t missing out on this for anything.

“God fucking damn it!” John shouted angrily, his frustration finally getting the better of him.  It wasn’t working– why wasn’t it working?!  He was so pent up, so desperately horny, and yet he couldn’t get off.

“Y’know,” Y/n whispered into Homelander's ear, startling him, “next time, you should send pictures, too.”

John let out a shaky gasp, looking at Y/n with pleading eyes. He never even noticed the web-head’s arrival- but, fuck, was he thrilled to see him.

“Please help me…" His voice shook with desperation. "I’ll be so, so good for you!  I’ll be such a good boy!  I need-”

“You already are, John.” Y/n cooed, sliding his hand up Homelander’s back, up toward his hair, where he took a handful of his undercut.  “You’re always such a good boy for me.  Look, you even found my favorite underwear…”

John whined when Y/n yanked his head back, pulling him in for a hot kiss, slipping his tongue through to mingle with his for a long minute.  When his lover relented, Homelander was met with their reflections in the ceiling mirror.  He moaned wantonly at the sight.

“But, you know the rules, my love.”  Y/n started to disconnect his cape.  “I like to see all of you.”  The web-head unzipped the back of John’s suit.  “Lean your head back on me, and shut your eyes.”

Homelander obeyed, allowing Y/n to strip him bare, slowly, gently, yet somehow with all the firmness he needed.  He adored the way his little spider found a way to work around his body image issues.  Homelander would shut his eyes and focus instead on Y/n, letting his senses get lost in him, perfectly distracting from the feel of the rubber muscles leaving his torso.  By the time he would open his eyes again, Y/n would already have him distracted with something else, typically far more pleasurable.

“Good boy,” Y/n breathed against his jaw, leaning down to nip at his neck.

John's cocked twitched, and he rolled his hips against the toy.

“Ah, ah,” Y/n tutted, gripping him firmly by the hips to still him.  “Not ‘till I say so.”

“Yes, sir,” John whined, his head still leaned against Y/n.

“Sit still.  Let me get undressed.”

John watched Y/n step away to strip off his spandex super suit, his eyes wide and desperate at the sight of each inch of skin revealed.

“I have something for you, baby.” Y/n winked at him.  “Since you like my underwear so much, why don’t you have this pair here?” The web-head stripped his boxer briefs away, smirking enthusiastically at the patch of his arousal soaking them.

“Please…”  John breathed, his body shivering as he held perfectly still for Y/n.

“Where would you like them?” Y/n asked, circling around to kneel behind John once more.

“M-my mouth,” he gasped.

Y/n held them out for John to take, and he felt himself clench at the sight of Homelander tonguing at his underwear before taking them between his teeth.  He watched John’s shaft twitch, a fresh surge of precum leaking onto the blanket.

“I see you even have my blanket.  You really missed me that much?”

John nodded fervently, humming his confirmation through Y/n’s underwear.

“Hmm…” Y/n blew a breath of air against the shell of Homelander’s ear.  “I love you, y’know.”  

John tried to respond, but was cut short by the feeling of Y/n’s fingers toying with his nipples.  He sucked a sharp breath, his head lulling back against Y/n once more.

“That’s it, baby, feel it.  Feel everything…”

John thrust forward, seeking anything to offset the ache of his cock, but was only met with the slick feeling of the dildo sinking back into his ass.

Y/n pressed his chest firm against John’s back, giving him a surface upon which to arch himself forward, to push into the sensation.  The web-slinger stilled his fingers and brought them up to Homelander's collar bones before dragging them downward, scratching through the hair on his chest, trailing down his sides.

“Feels good, huh?”

John nodded fervently as he watched the scene unfold in the mirror.

Y/n’s fingertips danced at his slender hip bones, ghosting across the valley separating them, tickling him.

“Y/n, please,” John whined through the fabric.

“Please what, Johnny?”  Y/n teased.

“T-Touch me, please!”  John shouted, the garment falling from his lips, soaked now with more spit than slick.

“Y’know,” Y/n began, releasing him.  “I think you’ve been too good for just that.  What if I did this?”

The space behind Homelander went cold as Y/n moved to kneel in front of him.

“Don’t cum.  Not until I say so.”

Homelander breathed his agreement, only to have it blend into a loud groan as Y/n’s tongue flitted over the tip of his cock.

“Y-Y/n, I– Hah!”  He gasped as those lips he fucking adored engulfed him further, taking him all the way to the base, his eyes rolling back when his cock slid down Y/n’s greedy throat.  He tried to thrust forward, but Y/n’s hands stopped him, subjecting him instead to simply stay there and take what he was given.

“You're so good for me, Homelander.” Y/n purred, reaching down to gently fondle Homelander's balls in his hand.  “Mmm, you taste so good.  You’re dripping so much; I love it!”

“Hnngh, t-thank you,” he whined.

“Lay back for me.”  Y/n motioned to the dildo.  “Don’t let it fall out.”

John obeyed, his legs clenched to stop the toy from slipping free.

“Now, what was that I read earlier about sitting on your face?”

Y/n didn’t give him time to respond before getting right where John specified in the message.  He felt Homelander’s tongue slip out to greet his cunt, laving a hot trail through his drenched folds, the filthy sounds of John licking and sucking permeating the air.

“You like that, don’t you?  You love how wet I am, how it’s all for you?”

Homelander groaned below, and Y/n ground his hips down.

“What was that, baby?  I can’t hear you. You love it?”

John slurped loudly, prompting a soft moan to slip from Y/n.

“Always such a good boy…”

Homelander thrust upward, his cock aching intensely.  He focused instead on Y/n, licking and sucking desperately, tasting the divine essence of his lover with no lack of enthusiasm. 

It only served to make him even more needy.

He didn’t stop until he’d worked Y/n through the first of many orgasms.  He felt the evidence staining his face, but gave no complaint when Y/n licked it clean off of him.  Their lips met, and Y/n slipped his slick tongue into John’s mouth, laving his arousal all around Homelander’s mouth.

“Hmm,” Y/n chuckled as he pulled away, “your eyes are glowing.”

John met his own gaze in the mirror, and, sure enough, they were.  He looked like a mess, too.  Hair mussed everywhere, lips kiss-bitten, chest heaving.  He looked well loved, and that was just how he liked it.

“You look beautiful.”  Y/n stared down at him with the gentlest, kindest smile.  He took a minute to gently trace his fingertips over Homelander’s chest, dancing through the little curls there, settling over his heart to tap once, twice, winking at him.

“Now, baby,” Y/n teased.  “What was this about seeing how many times you can cum in me?”  He reached between John’s legs, giving the forgotten toy a push, burying it further inside of him.  “Legs up.”

Homelander complied, splaying himself wide open for Y/n.  His eyes widened when his lover gave the dildo a few firm thrusts, and he gasped loudly when Y/n locked it in place with a spray of webbing.

“That’s not going anywhere until either it’s ripped off,” Y/n smirked, “or it dissolves in a few hours.  Your pick.”

John let Y/n pull him into a seated position and mount him, swiping his cock painstakingly slowly through the folds of his cunt, teasing his clit with each pass.

Need burned in his core.

Y/n glanced up contemplatively for a moment.

“I bet I can take as many loads as you’re able to give me.”

John immediately took Y/n by the hips, sinking him down onto his cock when the angle was just right.

"W-we'll see about that." 

“Mmm, John,” Y/n moaned, resting their foreheads together, immediately rolling his hips.

Homelander held fast to Y/n as his lover fucked against him, moaning and groaning in his ear, whispering ‘I love you’ here and ‘good boy’ there, dragging him closer and closer to the edge he’d been teetering on for so long.

“Cum for me baby,” Y/n encouraged.  “Shoot it deep.”

The thread snapped, and Homelander pulled Y/n down harshly to bury himself as deep as physically possible, the cum spurting from his cock in a glorious heat.  He whined obscenely, pitifully through it, finally achieving the release he’d been begging for this whole time.  John's hole clenched against the toy buried inside him, quivering against the girth in a delicious double-stimulation.

“Y/n– fuck, I–”

“Mmm,” Y/n groaned against him, his cunt drinking up every drop of Homelander’s seed.  “That’s one.”

Y/n gave Homelander a minute to recover before beginning to bounce against him.  The cum seeped from his cunt, helping John’s cock glide in and out effortlessly. 

Homelander had long since thrown his head back, both because he wanted to watch in the mirror and he simply couldn’t exert the energy to hold it up anymore.  He watched Y/n ride him, a trail of drool spilling over as he fought to contain himself.

But, wait.  Why would he?

The goal was more.

And more, he could give.

So he did.

He began to fuck up into Y/n at a lightning fast pace, pounding his lover relentlessly to chase another burst of ecstacy.  When he finally came again, he rammed his hips upward, burying himself to the hilt once more.

Homelander watched the mixture of his cum and Y/n’s slick gush around his cock, and it only stoked the blaze of his lust further.  This time, he rolled them over, pressing Y/n into the bed as he pummeled his lover as if he'd gone rabid, basking in the cries of pleasure his efforts produced.

“How many?” He demanded, his hand wrapped around Y/n’s neck.

“F-four!” Y/n wept as he came, clenching around John’s cock as it spilled into him again. He fucking lived for the occasions when John’s demeanor would change in the middle of their trysts.  Soft, then suddenly, blissfully aggressive.  Almost like a switch was flipped, and someone else has come out to play.

They went at it for several hours, until Y/n was damn near on the brink of passing out.  Even Homelander was beginning to feel the effects of fatigue.

“H-how– how many?” John whimpered, his hips somehow sore from their intense lovemaking.

“N-nine…” Y/n panted, his cunt utterly packed full of John’s seed.

Most of it had leaked onto the bed, soaking into the blanket John had ‘borrowed.'  How he had this much to give, and was able to still hold himself up, was beyond Y/n.  The only thing keeping Y/n able to climax was the fact John could stimulate him further by rubbing his wrist spinnerets.

The dildo had been discarded on the bed.  The webs dissolved long ago.

“I think you can take ten, yeah?”  John winked through his own heavy breaths.

“I think you’re fucking insane.” Y/n replied. A lazy grin crept onto his face. “Let’s do it!”

Homelander beamed at the enthusiasm, and rolled his hips once more, fucking Y/n through the ache.  Strings of cum followed his hips, leaking down and clinging to his thighs, accentuating the loud clap of their skin. He slammed his hips against Y/n, grinding into him in circular motions, his mind blanking at the wet, slick feeling. It felt incredible to fuck into their mess, to glide in and out with such ease simply because they'd made each other feel so good.

He reached down with one hand to toy with Y/n’s clit, rolling the overstimulated nub with his thumb, hoping to build Y/n’s release in time for his own.  The other grazed over the slit of Y/n’s wrist once, twice, sending him spiraling once more.

“Come on Johnny– hnngh, fill me up.” Y/n moaned, encouraging him.  “Be a good boy and cum in me again!”

Homelander gave a few more deep, pointed thrusts before spilling again, finally having burnt through nearly all of his stamina– something that had always seemed impossible.  Y/n was the first of his partners– supe or not– to ever get him to this point.  He fell forward to nuzzle into the crook of Y/n’s neck.

“Ten,” he announced in a choked whisper.

“Ten,” Y/n murmured breathlessly in his ear.  “But you’re not done.”

Homelander arched an eyebrow, almost tempted to complain.  He was tired.

“I’m not?”

Sopping wet fingers nudged at his lips, and he recognized the taste instantly.  Homelander’s eyes rolled back as his tongue rolled over the digits to happily suck them clean.

“There’s so much… Be a good boy and help me clean up?” Y/n cooed, grinning deviously.  He was all fucked out, without a doubt, but he wanted the thrill of seeing John go down on him.  Even if the only thing left to feel was a dull ache, Y/n would never tire of watching Homelander lose himself in between his legs.

"Oh, absolutely,” he lilted.  Homelander shimmied down between Y/n’s legs excitedly, lapping up the mess they’d made, groaning at the salty-sweet taste of it.  He buried his tongue in Y/n’s opening, fucking it in and out.

“Just like that, baby, hah~” Y/n sang, watching John become utterly absorbed in the act.

Homelander didn’t stop until every inch of his little spider was licked clean, and his own lustful appetite was almost entirely satiated.

Almost. 

“You know what?”  He smirked as he stared straight into Y/n’s hazy eyes, a sudden rebound of energy reinvigorating him.  “I got enough to make it eleven.  Probably twelve.”

Y/n threw his head back in an exhausted laugh and pulled John close.

“You,” he pressed a quick kiss to his lips, “are trouble with a capital T.”

Homelander grinned in return, leaning down to nip at Y/n’s neck.

“You love it!”

“I love you. The rest is just a bonus!”

Y/n had no idea how he’d explain his absence from the event, but for now, with John’s cock sliding home inside of him once again, he truly didn’t care.

[halloworhorecrux]

Warning: slight NSFW and dubious consent at the end.

Where is the waking up married Drarry? Right here my friend

It's been one week of Draco being free of Azkaban. Ron and Neville are on Harry duty.

(You are telling me that Hermione does not have a schedule to make sure Harry does not bother *stalk*Draco Malfoy. Take your filthy lies out here. )

She knew he was flying and watching over that scrawny ferret since his trial.

Harry smells of the North Sea, and his hair has been even more of a disaster. The daily prophet calls him a Casanova because anytime he is seen, he looks disheveled, just shagged barely left the bed disheveled.

So its been a week, and they have been able to keep Harry away from Malfoy. Ron boasted to Hermione he is doing a brilliant job as they enter a bar where Harry is beelining to the white blonde head in the center of the dance floor. Dean Thomas is quick enough to rugby tackle him before he makes contact. Well fuck.

Pansy Parkinson saw the Saviour looking at her friend and did her best to stear him away to go somewhere else, literally anywhere else. Dear, sweet Draco is wasted and horribly clingy, so he tells her to "carry me Pans."

Like what the fuck, he is 6ft tall and yea maybe he weighs like a sack of bones that doesn't mean Pansy can carry him. Ever loyal Goyle decides he will take him . The problem is Goyle looks different ( he doesn't Harry just doesn't care) and so Harry sees a man trying to manhandled Malfoy, and just bulldozes everyone and disapparates with him to Las Vegas.

Draco vomits throughly on Harry's shoes.

The humiliation is enough that Draco decides he will just get Harry wasted too. So they continue their night blasted until they decide to enter a chapel and get married.

Potter I swear to hex and hold you, in sixth year bathrooms and ballroom manors, with a muggle pence and all the galleons in a malfoy vault. Till we fucking die together, i vow to never leave you alone, Potter"

Malfoy I swear to hex and hold you, in forbidden forests and any sea your stranded in, you use to find me every train ride but now it's my turn to find wherever you want to be. ill be there with you. I vow to watch you until we greet death, and even then, I won't let you go"

"Wonderful vows gentleman, with power vested in my by the state of Nevada I now pronounce you husband and husband"

"Merlin, where am I?"

"We are in the America's, and you should probably wake up. We are in loads of trouble, Potter. " Harry speaks his last name with relish and just enough posh that Draco gives himself whiplash, turning towards him

"Potter"

"Ohcome now, it's your name too, may want to use my first name sweeatheart"

"Sweetheart?" Draco's face is gobsmacked and it's glorious.

"Yes, baby?"

"Merlin"

"No its Harry, you screamed it enough last night"

The flush that begins at his chest travels all the way to the tips of Draco's ears.

"I-- I thought that was a dream"

"Dream about marrying me often, Potter?" Harry ask.

" sometimes, sometimes it's of our honeymoon, where you spend hours licking-"

"Yea, well as much I want you to finish that, the MACUSA is outside our door and waiting to charge us for illegally entering the country and some other minor charges"

Dracos eye grow huge, with fear mixed in because he was only recently released from Azkaban.

" No, No, don't fret love. I won't ever allow you to return there or any prison ever again. Do you hear me? I'll kill them before anyone puts a hand on you."

A nod " I trust you, Harry"

His name on Draco's lips is enough for Harry to say fuck it and begin to strip his cloak from his shoulders. Thank merlin Draco is still naked and filled with his cum leaking out.

A better version of this is if this happens before Draco's trial and he doesn't go to Azkaban at all. Whatever floats your boat

[headingalaxys-spicy]

Spicy plz I’m so bored ;-;— could you grace me with some headcanons for yandere America with an s/o who seems oblivious to his tendencies but is actually just. Pretty okay with it? Like they feel like this is the best they’re gonna get so they may as well make the most of it? Despite my casual tone I’m very okay with you ripping my heart out with angst or despair in any way you see fit <3

Probably not my best work but still hope you like it!

Okay warning ya'll this post is SPICY also it goes over abusive relationships so if that's not for you I suggest that you turn away now.

Your problems all began when you were let into the real world after college. It would be easy, they said. You just needed your degree, they said. Then it would be ‘smooth sailing’. 

Sure. SURE. That was a load of total bullshit. You now had to battle tooth and nail just to have the basic necessities barely. Your future looked bleak. ‘The Dream’ that originally you wanted to achieve: Get married, have two kids, have a house you owned, and maybe a fancy car that yu could show off and keep up with the Joneses. Best them even. 

You simply wanted more time with your family and friends, so you avoided applying to ghost jobs and attending interviews that ultimately led nowhere. You did freelance work like writing gigs, catering, and the occasional art commission in order to keep your head above the water. 

Some days were easy, but most were difficult. Keeping the tiny flame ignited within you to keep you going was a 24 hr 7-day 7-day-a-week kind of job. With each passing day, finding the will to exist was getting harder. 

‘Why do anything if I’m constantly feeling empty?’ 

You felt as though you were on a pitch-black road where your flashlight could only reach 2 ft in front of you. 

That was until Alfred burst into your life in the early morning sun rays that broke through the deep blue-black of the nighttime sky. His outward warmth brought the birds to life and made the flowers blossom. He was the bright person you needed to be around you. Even if that meant you tolerated his sinister tendencies that you commonly wrote off as him being an excellent protective boyfriend in a somewhat twisted way. 

Alfred always knows where you are. He ensures the Find My iPhone tracker is activated and shares your location with him at all times. When you first saw it, and he didn’t even bother to ask or even tell you that he did so… You simply ignored it. He was your boyfriend, and that’s what good boyfriends do…..protect their highly vulnerable S/O and part of that is knowing where you are at all times. 

Things don’t escalate if you’re incredibly passive and are compliant with the rules that Alfred sets for you. You will have a lack of privacy. He gets far more possessive if individuals (s) in your midst are suspicious or seem to be far too friendly for his liking. You become afraid of him when he raises his voice while interrogating you about one of your friends or acquaintances. Alfred’s fist will have made another gaping hole in the wall, which sometimes makes you fear for your life or your family. You would nearly jump out of your skin every time you came home & you saw his infamous frown combined with sapphire blues holding back famished flames, needy for more people to devour if they dared to come in between the two of you. 

Anyone who dared to challenge him on any of his behavior would be silenced swiftly. Most of the time, his victims would never be seen again; other times, they’d end up with some horrific injury or illness that prevented his targets from having the willpower to fight back or squeal. 

You always wondered why it had become much more difficult for you to maintain genuine friendships. You glossed over the fact that Alfred demanded 110% of your attention. This makes it hard for you to have a life outside of him. He also has enforced a curfew on you. 

‘He does that so some creep doesn’t try to kidnap me.’ That would be one of the excuses that you tell yourself in order to excuse his behavior. Besides, how long has it been since you were able to get a date before him? Two or three years, probably more, since so much time has passed since you’ve had a serious long-term relationship. You couldn’t really remember at this point. 

Whenever he objects to you leaving the house, 98% of the time, you employ some tactics when dealing with him. Negotiation. You primarily used this tactic when the effects of becoming stir-crazy have become unbearable. You feared that you would be swallowed up by his home and never seen again. 

“Alfred….” your eyes will search the hardwood floor for the perfect combination of words that will assist in getting you to some level of freedom. 

“I really want some fresh air….and…it’s been forever since we’ve had a cute date on in the park….or going to my favorite restaurant that is on the promenade….” Your eyes cautiously climb up to meet his. You braced yourself for the possible avalanche that was going to careen towards you if you didn’t plant your ice ax in neutral snow. 

“Where I first began to fall in love with you truly!” You blurted out with partially feigned fervor. Enough energy was behind your words that you could see Alfred’s shoulder relax. His freshly trimmed eyebrows were raised in curiosity and disbelief. However, he wasn’t entirely convinced yet. You needed to stroke his ego a little more. He needed reassurance that you were utterly smitten with him. His continued silence was a sign for you to continue with your argument. 

“I know when the last sun rays of the day hit your magnificent sky blues, I know that we were meant to be together.” It will feel like an eternity has passed before Alfred finally responds. 

“Alright, babe.” 

You hear him rise from his spot on the couch & make his way towards you. 

“We can go tonight, but you’ve got to get dressed in something better than that~” Alfred will have pinned you to the front door as he whispers in your ear his other demands he has for you. Usually, it’s that of a sexual nature. Alfred does have you do things like: have you wear a skimpy outfit while you iron his clothes, and give him head while he reads comics or plays video games. You’re not allowed to deny him anything that he asks of you when you work out a ‘deal’ with him. If you do you’ll have to do double of whatever it is along with being chained to the bed for a few days. 

Essentially dear reader you have Stockholm Syndrome. Regardless of what torture he puts you through, you wouldn’t want your life any other way. After all, it was Alfred who brought forth the morning sun in your life which felt as though you were cursed to be within a state of eternal midnight. 

Who were you to complain when he saved you from being on the streets whose jagged teeth had the flesh of the unfortunate on them but always eager for more.

So what if you were a little traumatized?

So what if you sometimes you had scars whenever you did something to set the sleeping volcano off?

It was better than being awash amidst the sea of people who merely became a number to add to a statistical data set. 

Alfred does weaponize sex a lot within your relationship. Not only is it a bargaining tool whenever you are desperate to meet your social needs as a human, but you use it to stop his occasional rampages, get some level of privacy (for example, showering by yourself or being able to keep a dairy without him snooping in it) 

Since Alfred is an exhibitionist & will never turn down an opportunity to showcase his power over you, he will have you do extreme things with him. He’ll demand that you have sex in public with him, like in the park, at a movie theatre, at Disney World on a dark ride, or even on the top of the roof of a government building. If it’s risky as hell with an epic story to tell, then Alfred will want to rail you there. Bonus: he will want you to be butt-naked in the car as well. Alfred will want you to feel every ounce of embarrassment, shame, & every emotion in between that makes you feel vulnerable and powerless. However, this punishment will only occur if you’re stupid enough to try and plan an escape away from him or say something that majorly punctures his ego. 

No matter how much he made you cry, made you bleed after sex, siphoned you off from your support system, and kept you firmly under his thumb… your low self-esteem told you that this was what you deserved. This was normal. This was how all couples behaved.

[noir-renard]

@kiwwles you sent me an ask about fics I recommend, and I was trying to save the answer as a draft and the whole ask disappeared 🥲 I don't know if it got deleted or if I answered it privately, but since it appears all traces of it are gone, I will try to recreate it here, because I worked on it for a while and I don't know why tumblr is like this

AnYwAy, I chose two fics per category, from four categories: DPxDC, DP only, Batman (+ DC), and Other. I focused on DP/DC because I figure if you like IYGABAB, you might want to read more from those fandoms.

Here are my recs:

DPxDC

Vacation Crashers by @impyssadobsessions

Batman crashes in the wilderness following up a lead in a recent case.

Meanwhile the Fenton family was having a camping trip to celebrate Jazz's last year as a "kid", but considering who suggested the location, it spelt disaster.

Now Danny and Jazz have to survive an onslaught of ghosts, take care of an injured Batman, and while worrying about their parents.

This was the first DPxDC crossover fic I ever read; I saw Impy_'s art from this fic and I just had to know more, and now I'm happily tumbling down the rabbit hole into the wonderland that is the Danny Phantom/Batman crossover verse. Vacation Crashers is the first in a series, which is the best news ever ^w^ 10/10 recommendation!

Bat Ghost by @megaerakles

Bruce is attacked by the ghost of Batman from the future. To get to the bottom of it, he pays a visit to some prominent ghost hunters, and happens to encounter a teenaged half-ghost vigilante (?), who just *happens* to resemble Damian. A lot.

On an unrelated note, Tim Drake has done nothing wrong.

I love fics where the Batfam goes to Amity Park. It's always a good time to watch them out of their element and adapt accordingly. This is a particularly enjoyable rendition, and it's still updating, too!

DP only

Exhumed by Marsalias

AU where Danny left behind half his physical body when he half-died. (AKA Corpse AU.)

Marsalias is one of my favorite DP writers, hands down. I really love the Exhumed series in particular, though; the world-building is excellent, the OCs are wonderful, and the writing is skillful.

Trust Your Instincts by @peachdoxie

A new kind of danger threatens Amity Park. With no other leads, Maddie Fenton turns to the one individual that might be able to help: Danny Phantom. Meanwhile, after a near death experience, she begins to question everything she knows about ghosts.

Excellent Maddie-centric fic where a near-death experience forces her to confront her own prejudices and misconceptions around ghosts, as well as the failings of her own scientific hubris. Currently on hiatus, but this fic was my obsession this past spring. Features cool OCs, interesting ecto-science, and lots of heartfelt/heartwrenching conversations.

Batman only

Loading and Aspect Ratio by Jube514

A world where nobody has wings, but people think they do, and that changes everything. (A Batfam Wingfic with a twist)

An excellent twist on the wingfic trope that really suits Batman. Features a Good Dad!Bruce who leans into the misconception that Batman is a cryptid because a)it's funny and b) it's convenient.

Take It Back Now, Y'all by Timthetoaster

(In which Tim finds himself in the past, and tries to do the right thing. It's more complicated than he'd like.)

Tim Drake being a bad-ass, accidental time travel, attempted fix-it. What's not to love?

Other

TAZ(Balance): All The Things You Prayed For by @anonymousalchemist and @marywhal

Taako is The Winter Soldier and Lup is Captain America AU

This is one of the best stories I've ever read, hands down. I've read it about four times *at least*. Even if you are not familiar with The Adventure Zone or The Winter Soldier (MCU), it's written so well that you can enjoy it without context.

TMA: The Magnus Institute vs the 21st Century: a series of emails and IMs by @shinyopals

What happens if the Magnus Institute gets a Data Protection Officer? What's it like to work in Tech Support? How are employee reviews conducted when your manager is Peter Lukas? This series does its best to answers these sorts of hard-hitting questions about office life at the Institute.

If you aren't familiar with The Magnus Archives it might be a bit hard to follow, but this epistolary fic has some of the best CSS coding and humor I've ever seen.

Anyway picking just a few was really difficult because I read a lot! I think every fic I've ever read has affected me in some way. But these are some of the ones most special to me. I hope you enjoy them!

[beardedmrbean]

So apparently there is a thing called a Heavenly Llama.

It's a creature in Aymara Mythology.

Tennesseans have a similar thing, but they borrowed from Tibetan Buddhism for naming theirs, there's a great land where they all meet to praise and sing songs to their local mystical being who resides within that land, in her own little world.

I saw the opening and I had to take it and I will not apologize for that.

_____________________

Did not recognize the name Aymara, Pre-Inca folks that the Inca subjugated. Still around too, very cool.

Both Quechua and Aymara women in Peru and Bolivia took up the style of wearing bowler hats in the 1920s. According to legend, a shipment of bowler hats was sent from Europe to Bolivia via Peru for use by Europeans working on railroad construction. When the hats were found to be too small, they were given to the indigenous peoples.

I'm gonna go ahead and not even consider questioning that.

It might be good that the lads at Film Cow never learned about this one, sounds loads better than Ragnarok though.

I've had this bookmarked forever meant to pull out some of the stuff from it for Llama Day 2023, but blanked on it that day, all kinds of neat stuff in there too.

The Heavenly Llama 

The history behind the heavenly llama is steeped in mystery because there are no written records to go by. However, it is believed that llamas were first thought of as heavenly animals when the Incas saw them silhouetted against the sky at night!

Llamas also had other connections with stars and constellations throughout their history like how people used to think that llama hair showed the dark spots of constellations.

People also believed that llamas were placed in the sky by Viracocha – creator god- to symbolize his creation! The Milky Way was thought to be a path made by these heavenly animals so they could cross into heaven, which is why there are many myths about how it came to be.

In one myth, a llama was tired of carrying its load and stopped to rest on the Milky Way. Viracocha saw this as an opportunity to test his creation by seeing if they could get past without having the animal move! When he found out that people were trying to make it easier for them, he became angry with them and sent down a llama to earth as punishment!

Another myth says that two children were playing by the Milky Way when their ball fell into it. They tried to get it back but couldn’t, so they asked Viracocha for help because he was known for being helpful in these kinds of situations. He told them that if they got a llama to cross the Milky Way then he would give them their ball back. They did, and once they got it back Viracocha turned all three of them into stars! ____________________

I'm continually amazed at how much crossover there is in stories like this between cultures that had zero chance to ever encounter each other.

Plenty of crossover between Rome and Greece, Rome got that sex thing confused and the men started having it with women but close enough, but seeing where these line up with other stories from that area and other places round the world too.

Flood stories pop up everywhere too.

This was a neat rabbit hole you tossed a laughing cow cheese thingy down for me to chase, I'm probably gonna be continuing the journey into it later on.

[nialls-gorgeous-colors]

Shawn Mendes and Niall Horan Timeline

Year 2017

JAN 2017 NIALL’S PICTURE WITH ‘THE BOY’ IS HIS MOST LIKED IG PICTURE OF 2016

FEB 2017

Feb 5 Niall posts on SnapChat:

Feb 12 Fans see Niall and Shawn together at a Top Golf in LA. Niall posts a video of Shawn golfing. According to later interviews, they watched the Grammys together.

MAR 2017

Mar 2 An interview with Shawn in Japan that I can’t find an active link to:

Mar 5 Shawn talking to an interviewer at the iHeart Awards: Totally [working on new music]. Yeah, and we also just hang out a bunch. He’s a really cool guy, so he’s been really sweet, and once we get the actual time to get to the studio, we’ll make some stuff happen.

Mar 7 Niall mentions The Collab at the Rays of Sunshine Event.

Mar 10 Niall talks to Pop Buzz about The Collab: Shawn Mendes. Again, we’re good mates and if we ever get the chance to – you know, he’s on tour here now. I go to America this week. It’s kinda like, back and forth. We spend a couple of days tog –

Interview: Busy, busy lads. (Hey dude, why’d you interrupt that, I need to know what he was going to say about them spending time together!)

Niall: Busy men! And we’d obviously love to but – you know it was great. Shawn’s new song, Holding Me Back, he played it to me – he wrote it the day before the Grammy’s and he played it to me – he had a demo, he played it to me in the car. We were driving up to my house, we’re going to watch the Grammy’s at my house, and he played it to me in the car. And he’s like ‘man, I really like this song, I wrote this yesterday.’ And then he posted a picture on his Instagram last week of the cover of his new single. And I sent him a voice note of me singing the song – I’d remembered it, I just remembered it saying “Holding Me Back” on his phone. It’s that catchy. Great song.

April 29 Shawn gets asked about The Collab: “There’s nothing happening yet, but I’m really good friends with ‘Noral.’”

MAY 2017

May 1 Shawn talks about The Collab with fans: Hopefully soon… I’m really, really good friends with him, actually. Probably one of my closest friends within the music industry. But we just don’t have the time, he’s working a lot. So, one day we will.

May 5 Nick Grimshaw brings up The Collab: You’re good friends with Shawn Mendes, right? And you’re going to work with him? ‘Cause I saw that video of you and him singing in a dressing room somewhere.

Niall: Yeah, that was actually my sitting room, thanks!

Nick: Was it really?!

Niall: Yeah – ‘your sitting room looks like a dressing room.’ […] After the AMAs, the American Music Awards. Yeah, I’d love to, but it’s just finding time. He’s over here touring, I’m about to go back to the States. It’s all a bit mad. Hopefully at some stage, do something together. He’s a good lad, too.

May 9 Shawn mentions The Collab at another Q&A: I haven’t seen Niall in a few months. We haven’t gotten to the studio yet, but one day, we’re going to be something. I know I keep saying that, but it’s not like we’re in the studio everyday, he’s on the other side of the world.

May 22 Niall talks about The Collab with fans: Whenever we get the chance. We’ve jammed a few times, like when we’re at the house and stuff like that, but… Yeah, and I keep finding like, ‘Shawn Mendes’ picks all over my house. Like loads of ‘em, just ones with ‘Shawn Mendes’ – how many times has he been to the house? Looks like he just emptied his pockets when he came in.

1075theriver miscaptions the video: NiallOfficial talking about finding photos of ShawnMendes around his house. Niall corrects them:

JUNE 2017

June 2

Niall sees Shawn at the O2 Arena!

Christiaan Bezuidenhou

t posts a picture and we crop it:

Jun 9 Niall chats with an interviewer about seeing Shawn at the O2: I’m good mates with Shawn Mendes and he was playing the O2 the other night, and I went to watch him. I’m 23 and I’m standing there, he’s 18. And I felt like a proud older brother in a way. He’s 18 and selling out arenas. I was thinking, ‘[One Direction was] doing that as well.’ It was a bit of a head-bender and it was good to see.

With another interviewer: Do you ever come up with some songs and you think 'we should release these’?

Niall: Yeah there was one time when me and Shawn Mendes were in my house and we started jamming out, and we had a few beers and forgot.

Jun 10 Shawn about Niall at the Summer Time Ball: I’m definitely going to see Niall. I don’t know where he is but I’m going to go find him now.

Jun 19 Niall talks about Shawn coming over to his house: we had a couple of beers, and we were jamming a little bit, and I played a couple of songs to him, and he seemed to like them!

Jun 20 About Shawn: I love Shawnie. He’s the man. He keeps saying to me: ‘I’m so new to this!’

Interviewer: So what kind of advice do you offer him?

Niall: He gets really nervous a lot. He’s 18 years old! We all forget ‘cause he’s 6′5 and looks like Michael Phelps doesn’t mean that he’s not 18.

AUG 2017

Aug 5 A fan asks who Shawn’s favorite member of One Direction is: 'I love Niall.’ (I’m the girl in the background saying ‘Niall’ like DUH.)

Aug 8 Niall posts: 

It’s this fellas birthday ! Happy birthday shawnmendes .

Aug 20 Shawn confirms The Collab, once again, during Q&A

Aug 28 Niall posts to IG, 'watching the lad’ perform at the VMAs

SEP 7, 2017

Awww... 🥰 

Oct 5 Again with The Collab: Seen him last week in LA, but we were just going for a beer, we didn’t go and write songs.

Oct 19 Niall for Dan Wootton: The fans would love it. He’s in the middle of his album at the minute so if we can get something rustled up in the next while, we’ll see what happens. But we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.

Oct 20 Niall does a Q&A – mentions wanting to collab with Shawn, and his favorite songs: “Obviously, Mendes’s got some big tunes out at the minute.”

NOV 20 2017 THE AMERICAN MUSIC AWARDS!

The seating chart

They sat next to each other.

Stared lovingly into each other’s eyes. Shawn posted it to his IG, as one does:

Bonus: Zedd is us and we are Zedd

Dec 18 Fan asks Shawn a Need To Know question about Niall: If you were a girl, would you date Niall Horan? Oh, absolutely.