#dirty glove bastards

[y3kmagazine]

Music Video: Myaap - All Nighter

Myaap's latest track, "All Nighter," is a straight-up banger that captures the essence of Milwaukee's urban sound. With a beat reminiscent of Certified Trapper's signature style, featuring a catchy clap throughout, Myaap effortlessly lays down her rhymes with a raw and authentic flow. The simplicity of the upbeat production adds to the track's infectious energy, making it a street anthem for those who appreciate the no-nonsense vibe of Milwaukee's rap scene. "All Nighter" is a testament to Myaap's grind, delivering a sound that's both relatable and undeniably catchy, marking her as a rising star in the city's burgeoning hip-hop landscape.

[mncxbe]

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𝑫𝒂𝒛𝒂𝒊 𝒙 𝑪𝒉𝒖𝒖𝒚𝒂 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: pure smut♡/ threesome/ dazai's a bit mean

"Fuck– donna you're such a dirty girl." Dazai cooed, his bandaged hands kneading the plush of your ass as he drilled himself into you "Heh looks like we got some company baby~ Chuuya I see you got my text."

Chuuya was standing in the doorway in obvious disbelief, hand clasping the ornate knob. "The fuck you think you're doing you bastard fucking around in my office-". Before he could finish his sentence you cut him off with a choked moan. His gaze lowered to see you bent over his desk, chest flush against the wooden surface; pretty tits almost spilling fron your tank top as you tilted your head to the side to look at him. Chuuya's breath hitched when he saw the sultry look on your face– eyes half lidded, cheeks flushed, lips raw from Dazai's kisses parting as you tried to say something but before you got the chance the man behind you started moving again. Your eyes fluttered shut and your head dropped on the desk, breaking the eye contact.

"Nuh uh bella you wanted to say something to Chuuya didn't you? C'mon speak up" cooed your boyfriend, grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking your head up to face the redhead again. Your mouth fell into a o as you choked out another moan.

The display was filthy, aggravating Chuuya beyond belief. Only a while ago Dazai texted him that he was going to fuck you in his office but he didn't believe a word. How on earth could the detective even get into the headquarters in the first place, let alone with you?–but still there he was, doing what he said he'd do. Chuuya felt his blood boil when he saw the smug grin on his ex partner's face. Oh yea, Dazai knew that Chuuya had a little crush on you and he never wasted an opportunity to tease him; even if it meant fucking you senseless on his desk.

"Go on bella tell him what you told me today." At Dazai's request you babbled out a 'I missed you Chuu' that had the man before you weak in the knees. The brunette's assault on your sore cunt didn't stop as he spoke.

"Yea, that's right. My girl said she missed you Chuuya~ ah fuck so tight baby s-shit. She wanted to see you s-so we came by to say hi"

Chuuya was baffled, his eyes musing on your figure. You missed him? Sure, the two of you got along quite well. You were on friendly terms– sometimes going out for a glass of wine or some coffee after work– but he never expected you to actually miss him. And watching you bent over his desk, back curved into a perfect arch as your boyfriend kept pounding you sure had an effect on him. God, how he wished he could be in Dazai's place for just one night, to have you all to himself and show you just how much he cared for you.

As if reading his thoughts, Dazai's grin widened. His hips slowed down, now flush against your ass, making you whine. "Say, Chuuya. My girl's been running her mouth a lot today. Think you can keep it occupied for a moment?"

Chuuya's fists clenched in anticipation. The brunette's words only made his erection worse. "You smug bastard..." he mumbled under his breath, looking down at you for some sort of confirmation.

You gave him a small nod, your gaze taking in the tent in his pants as you sheepishly licked your lips. Now, Chuuya couldn't possibly say no to that. He hastly unbuckled his belt and let it fall to the ground with a clink, pulling down his fly before positioning himself in front of you.

"You sure it's alright?" he asked softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. You nodded again, giving him that sweet smile of yours as you hooked a finger under the wristband of his pants. Eager, you were so so eager and he was more than happy to indulge you. Chuuya pulled his suit pants and slacks down to reveal his leaking cock. Without wasting a second you lolled out your tongue, licking a stripe from the understide of his dick to the tip. "Shiit–" he hissed, one of his gloved hands coming to rest on the crown of your head, pushing himself deeper into your mouth with a groan. "Damn baby pretty mouth's gonna milk me dry~ so fucking good yeaa". You bobbed your head and hollowed your cheeks as your tongue darted around his sensitive tip, earning another choked moan from him.

From behind you Dazai clicked his tongue in disapproval. "Don't get too comfortable, you two" he said sharply, suddenly resuming his previous pace. The intensity of his thrusts had you moaning on Chuuya's cock, sending the redhead straight to heaven and back. His grip on your hair tightened–nails lightly grazing your scalp as he began pushing your head up and down his length. His tip hit the back of your throat each time he thrusted into your mouth making you gag in protest.

Dazai smirked, raising one of his hands to land a harsh slap on your ass. "Look at you, 'donna. Choking on another's man cock shiit– one just ain't enough for you is it? You greedy girl..." he purred, running his bandaged hand over the red mark "Ya know what happens to greedy girls, r-right?". He picked up the pace, further abusing your sweet spot. Dazai hissed when he felt your walls clamping down on him, squeezing him in all the right places.

Your were whoozy, completely drunk on the pleasure the two men were granting you. Due to Chuuya desperately chasing his high it was getting more and more difficult to breathe. Not that you cared anyway. It felt too good and frankly you were too far gone– after all Dazai's been teasing and edging you for more than half an hour now. The tight knot in your stomach snapped, your walls spasming around Dazai's dick as you came.

With one last deep thrust Dazai released his load inside your hole, stuffing you full with his creamy cum. "Oh fuck bella y-yea~ that's it. God you feel so good pretty girl-"

Chuuya gazed down at your face with half lidded eyes, watching you ride out your high. His hips bucked further into your mouth earning a low whine from you "Baby 'm close too h-haa" he babbled out, his breath catching in his throat. All you could do was hum in approval, allowing him to use your mouth to reach his high. Soon after Chuuya came too, spilling his seed down your throat. His choked breathing eventually simmered down and he removed himself from your mouth– his cock coated in stick cum and your saliva leaking onto his pants. You swallowed eagerly, opening your mouth for him.

"I didn't even tell you to swallow..." sighed Chuuya, tracing your lips with his thumb. You pursed your lips, kissing his the pad of his finger and oh how the gesture soothed the man's soul.

Before you got a change to say something Dazai chimed in "Well, what can I say? I taught her well" . You glanced back at him, obviosuly infuriated by his comment but he only chuckled in response. "Sorry darling. You're just too cute sometimes I can't help it." Steadily, he pulled out of you, gathering the sweet mix of your juices that dripped out of your pretty cunt with two fingers and bringing it to his lips. "Ya taste as good as always baby."

After all of you got dressed you stood in mild awkward silence– mostly on Chuuya's part. He watched Dazai as he pampered you with kisses, whispering hushed nothings in your ear as he placed the papers on his desk back in order. The whole situation was strange to say the least, still it was something he could get used to. Not too long after you giggled, taking a seat on the leather chair behind the desk as you opened your phone. "So... you guys wanna order some takeout or something? I could eat some Chinese food."

[monakisu]

I want you to know that I came across a random post of your Death Note art, went "Awww, oh my gosh, with the way this person draws Light I think Akechi would look fantastic in the same style!", clicked onto your profile, and then saw your newest artwork was Akechi. I'm still kind of cackling over it and thought maybe you'd find it funny too. Your art is SO cute, I'm very happy I found it <333

HAHA THAT’S AMAZING (<< was an akechi artist wayyyy before i fell head over heels for light)

but rlly… theyre so similar:

- brunet

- asshole

- pretty boy

- mass murderer

- black-haired homoerotic rival

at the end of the day, the key difference is one is a top and the other is a bottom.

ok but seriously, they’re vastly different characters on a fundamental level:

- light was handed everything him on a silver platter: family, friends, looks, intellect, a comfortable life… as a bastard child of a sex worker and now an orphan, goro had to fight his way to his current position and will always harbor a terrible sense of inferiority (light is completely confident in his absolute superiority, Always (that’s why the challenge of L sent him off the deep end of obsession lol))

- light genuinely sees himself as a hero, while goro would like to feel the same but is nonetheless depressingly aware of his villain’s journey (his undesirable position as the detective vs the underdog phantom thieves, his string of assassinations, his ultimate dirty bloody goal, etc.).

- light’s motive is about the world’s salvation, cleansing, the birth of his ideal reality (very messianic of him with the slightest loving tinge of mary cradling her lamb hahaha) while goro is laser-focused on ruining this one asshole’s life in particular, vengeance and revenge at once! one’s focused on rebirth, and the other gunning straight for death! they both use murder to get what they want but light probably floats around thinking himself so clean and divine as mother of the world (ignorance is bliss) while goro is constantly desperately trying to cover up his suspiciously red hands with his gloves hehehe… they’re both constantly striving for perfection, just with varying levels of self-awareness!!

- goro is a canonical loner; light has a horde of friends; this is probably due to a difference in public persona! goro is an untouchable idea of what he thinks a human should be and is completely out of the loop when it comes to normal social interactions (believes opening with hegel will instantly endear himself to the average person (luckily he inflicted that upon akira who is decidedly not average in the slightest)), light is implied to be more down-to-earth and even slightly goofy (he’s gaming decorum like an advanced speedrunner)! it’s probably good how distant goro is, because getting any closer to him will allow you to see how off-putting and uncanny he is, sorta like an AI-generated image—seams in the wrong places and far too much teeth LOL. meanwhile light has this whole shebang so thoroughly figured out that he’s BORED with it all! he’d like to move on to the next game (with L), thank you!! light definitely still exudes uncanny creepiness (it’s his natural state of being) especially when he zones out or starts hysterically cackling out of nowhere at his own thoughts, but he’s a hundred times better at masking compared to goro due to a better upbringing. goro is starved for the adoring friends he sees akira easily picking up one after another; light couldn’t give less of a shit because he’s always had those trivial luxuries! he’d much rather prefer an adoring WORLD!!

- then there’s the difference in how they die… one started out surrounded with company but ultimately died alone, while it’s the opposite for the other (if you count the de-realization of maruki’s reality as goro’s “death” (which i don’t)).

- in conclusion, light and goro are like funhouse mirror reflections of each other!!! one is a pampered lapdog getting a taste of rabies and letting loose, while the other is a starving wolf trying to domesticate itself for treats and headpats!! and i <3 them both!!!!!

anyways i may be wrong about light because im going purely off of fics, tumblr shitposts, and my own imagination :] feel free to school me in a way that won’t destroy my delusions!

[raz-writes-the-thing]

Passing The Baton (Six of Crows One-Shot)

Kaz Brekker x Fem!Reader / requests are open and encouraged

Summary: To your knowledge, your crush on Kaz is unrequited. Apparently this is not the case.

CW: Kaz is dumb but we love him

SAB/SOC Tag List: (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

___ ___ ___ ___ ___

Kaz ‘Dirtyhands’ Brekker. Bastard of The Barrel. Also- your unrequited love. Kaz had caught your eye just as he had caught everyone else’s. Everyone knew not to mess with the Dregs, and that was thanks to Kaz. Before he’d risen through the ranks of the club, the Dregs had been no one. Quite literally the dregs of society- and while, yes, that was where the name came from, it was quite the rise to fame as the Dregs started getting more and more popular, and more and more dangerous.

Even the Crow Club was starting to become a real pain in the other clubs’ asses. 

But Kaz? He’d fascinated you well before any of this. You’d been working at the Crow Club as a serving girl since before Kaz arrived. Not long, mind, but long enough before that you got to experience both sides of the Dregs’ fortune. 

Kaz hadn’t seemed to take much notice of you at first- and why would he? Weren’t you just another serving girl being groped by the drunk patrons? Anything to make a few Kruge. But he did take notice when you threatened to cut the balls off a patron when said patron got a little too handsy one day.

He’d taken you back into his office and thwacked his cane on the table hard enough to scratch the varnish and told you rather harshly to never do that again. To come to him next time there was an issue like that and he’d deal with it… discretely. 

What that had meant was clear only to Kaz, and that was fine by you. But that was when your little crush had really taken off. What could you say? You liked a bad boy. Someone who could handle his own and Kaz could definitely handle his own. Cane or no. 

Despite telling you off, Kaz had clearly taken note that you weren’t afraid to get your hands a little dirty either, something he had an appreciation and mutual respect for. And so you went from lowly serving girl to, well, still a serving girl, but a serving girl who also took jobs for Dirtyhands and worked with him to secure patronage for the club, and Kruge for his and your own pockets. And for Per Haskell’s pockets as well, you supposed. Lazy bastard. 

But you longed for more.

 

You longed for Kaz’s touch, for his lips on your skin. You longed for his affections as much as you longed for his approval. It was a dangerous combination.

As far as you could tell, he did not feel the same way. But then again, would you have ever known otherwise? Kaz kept his cards close to his chest- as he should. 

Today seemed different though. You’d barely made it back from a job and Kaz seemed… angry, to put it lightly. You had no idea why, though, considering you got what he wanted, and made it out alive, too. Win-win. 

Inej may have had to save you, but that was beside the point. 

“You need to be careful,” he said, mouth pursed angrily. “You can’t be making reckless choices and silly mistakes. This is The Barrel. I can’t afford mistakes.” 

You met his harsh gaze head-on and shoved the ledger he’d asked for into his chest with vigour. Kaz didn’t even break the gaze between you, just reached with one gloved hand to take the ledger off you. 

“I got what you wanted, didn’t I?” 

A muscle in Kaz’s jaw twinged. 

“That is not the point.” 

You let out an exasperated scoff, removing your hand from his chest with another soft shove. Surprisingly, Kaz lets the action move him. 

“Then what is the point?” You ask, frustration evident in your features. 

“The point is- oh, for Saints’ sake,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We could have lost you. I could have lost you.” 

Your eyebrows practically disappeared into your hairline. 

“You could have lost me…” you trail off, echoing his words, feeling them out for hidden meanings. 

“You’re a good investment. I don’t like to lose investments.” 

Oh. Okay. An investment. You should have known that that was all you were to him. That’s all you were ever going to be to Kaz no matter how much you wished differently. Ridiculous. 

“Of course,” you reply, turning to walk away. “Your investment needs a dri-hey!” 

Kaz’s gloved hand snatches at your forearm and yanks you back towards him. You re-balance yourself and glare at him, looking between the tight grip he has on your arm and his heated glare. 

“Stop,” he says before forcing his features to soften. “I’m not one for feelings.” He practically shudders through the word. “You’re more than that. An investment, I mean.” 

You stay quiet, not giving him anything to work with here, but you’re surprised he can’t hear the uptick in your heartbeat. 

“Look,” his grip loosens. “I don’t want to lose you. Purely selfish reasons. Not because you’re an investment, but-” Kaz clears his throat and avoids eye contact. “I care for your wellbeing.” 

It’s not an outright declaration of love, but it’s about as close to it as someone like Kaz would give. He’d bared his soul to you here. All the fractured, broken pieces of it. He’d bared his heart for you to treasure or smash into bitty little pieces. 

You sucked in a breath. 

“Are you saying you have feelings for me?” 

Kaz grunts and lets go of your arm. You brush your fingers over where he’d just touched you. 

“I suppose so, yes,” he said, eyes flitting to the door like he was thinking about making a run for it. 

“Don’t suppose it would interest you to know I felt the same way, would it?” 

And there it was. Passing the baton back to Kaz. Passing your heart in return for his. Now it was he who held the power to treasure or smash you into pieces. 

Kaz finally met your gaze, and his lips ticked up into a small smirk.

“Oh, I knew that.”

[redamancyys]

Three Moments - Kaz Brekker

SUMMARY ◆ Three moments in which Kaz shows his love for you.

WARNING(S) ◆ fluff, implied smut, unedited, me word vomiting.

WORDS ◆ 2k

»»————-　✼　————-««

You were certain that you were always meant to burn together. To love him was to love the hot embers of a forest fire, pressing your hands farther and farther into the flames no matter how much your body screamed to let go. It was all consuming, a love that suffocated you like smoke and left you burning for days. He was always burning, and sometimes you wondered if you just got caught up in the flames. Heartstrings woven together, not sure if you were the anchor or he was . . . Saints, who were you kidding? He definitely was not the anchor. 

It took him a long time to understand that he needed you. 

He was the bastard of the Barrel, unafraid of getting his hands dirty because he hid under a pair of gloves. On his worst days when he came home, they were caked with dirt, dust, and blood. It wasn’t his blood, he rarely had a cut on him. Most of the times when you stayed up until he returned, he would glance in your direction, give you a small nod, and make his way up to his room at the tallest point in the Slat. The next morning he never acknowledged it. His hair was slicked back, porcelain skin perfectly clean on his face and his gloves were as well. Fine, black leather worn down on the fingertips in the same places he gripped his cane. You wondered why he never let even those closest to him see him in any way disheveled. You didn’t understand the danger of looking weak the way he did. It wasn’t your fault, no one had ever understood what he had been through. Not that they ever could know anyway.

One night you were awake once again, making an excuse that you couldn’t sleep and had to make tea, though many knew that you stayed up until all members of the Crows were back home. You sat in the corner, a favorite book in hand and sipping on some mix of tea when you heard the door open and you thought for a moment your eyes were playing tricks on you. Because there he stood, cuts on his face and parts of his shirt ripped off at the arms. He was beaten, bloody, unlike anything you had ever seen before. He stood there, looking at you, watching as you took another sip and waited for him to go up the stairs like he always did. But this time he kept standing there, watching, as if he was waiting for your attention. He glanced over at the box on the table where you all kept bandages, and then back at you. 

Soon enough you were both sitting at the table, you were reaching for the tiny bottle of alcohol and white wrap up bandages. 

“Who was it this time?” You asked, dumping a cloth in a water bowl to clean his wounds. He looked at you, as if to say, it doesn’t matter. Though you kept pressing on, your eyes peered into his coffee brown ones, eyebrow popping up in question. “I waited up for you, which means you can’t keep any secrets from me, Kaz Brekker.” 

His name seemed to pop him out of his thoughts, pushing him back to reality in which he was there, sitting with you, rather than in the future thinking about plans or in the past pondering about the people he’s lost. Kaz glanced down at his gloved hands and then turned his attention back to you, watching your face carefully. 

“Someone didn’t pay me back for a favor,” He said. “It wasn’t an easy confrontation but it’s over now.” 

That was all you needed. You knew it was all you would get right now. Empty words were his forte that no matter how long you spent trying to read in between the lines of his metaphors and hyperboles, you were left feeling more confused than how you began. It took you so long to understand that it wasn’t about what he said, it was what he did. He never told any of the members of his crew how much they mattered to him, how important it was that they stuck around. In fact, sometimes you wondered if anyone mattered to Kaz Brekker, or if he was destined to keep himself alone, closed off, coldhearted. 

Your hand with the towel came up to his face and he flinched, making you falter for a single second. You waited for him to say something, but it never did, and you finished your motion by slowly wiping away the dried blood from the cut on his face. It wasn’t deep, it wouldn’t scar, and for some reason that made you glad. He would still look pristine in the morning, with a little help from you. You wondered if this is what he did alone in his room when he came back, healed wounds that never saw the light of day. Some part of you wished that he would show this side of him more often, the one that was vulnerable. Both of you stayed silent while you wiped the blood away and bandaged up your arm, though soon enough he was on his way back to his room, leaving you downstairs. 

~

You two took care of each other. It took until a heist went wrong that you saw that for sure. Too many things were against the group that day. Jesper’s guns stopped working when he had to take a critical shot, Nina was almost taken hostage . . . You yourself had suffered a striking blow to the stomach, becoming winded and almost passing out from lack of oxygen. Everyone ran away, knowing to meet up later at the Crow Club when they got the opportunity. You ran into an alley, head spinning, gasping for air as you leaned against a wall. Men ran past, most likely looking for you and your partners, though were not smart enough to look down the dark alley to their right. You could barely walk, knowing that several of your ribs had to be broken. 

“You need to keep moving,” A voice spoke from behind, startling you enough to grab the gun from your belt and aim it in the direction of the voice. Your eyes caught up with your target and realized it was Kaz, able to sneak up on you because he was without his cane for the blown heist. “Guards are looking all over for us.” 

You huffed, shaking your head. You couldn’t do it. All you wanted to do was lay there until you got better, not caring about the dirt and grime on the ground. When you tried to walk it felt like someone was stabbing you in the lungs, you stumbled a little and would’ve fallen if Kaz’s hands hadn’t grabbed you and kept you upright. 

Your vision was spotty as you both stumbled out of the alley, slowly making your way back. “I can’t do this,” You said, tears welling up in your eyes. “It hurts so much, Kaz, it hurts.” You were rarely this emotive, you were the glue of the group, keeping everyone together even through the toughest of times. Everyone always came to you, you’re the strongest one of them all. Every single second you wondered if your caved in ribs would puncture one of your organs and this would be your last day. Your last time with the people you cared so much about. The world was spinning, but Kaz’s arms and touch brought you back to reality, and soon enough you were within feet of the Crow Club and you collapsed, letting the darkness consume your mind. 

It was a few hours before you woke up in your room, opening your eyes to the soft glow of a candle near your bed. The softness of your blanket gave comfort, though the moment of relief that you were alive seemed to wash away as the pain came back to reality, a bandage wrapped around your torso that impeded your motion. 

For the next couple of days you were in and out of consciousness, Inej came to visit you a lot in order to give you food and some company, sometimes Jesper would tell you about his day and about Wylan. But still no sign of Kaz. You hadn’t seen him since he had brought you back to safety. At first you thought nothing of it, though the idea that he was avoiding you began to boil and fester, leading you to question Jesper the next time he arrived in your room with tea in hand. 

“I understand that comfort isn’t his thing, but I thought that Kaz would at least come and visit once,” You stated to Jesper, sucking in your bottom lip whilst moving to sit up, minding the tiny pain in your chest. 

Jesper’s eyes widened, shaking his head a tiny bit in a way that made you think he was hiding something from you. You gave him a puzzled look, urging him to speak his thoughts to you. 

“He’s been sitting outside of your door every chance he gets. I thought you knew.”

~

His kisses were soft despite his tough exterior, but they were not without intention. Every time his lips made contact with a piece of your skin you could feel his want, his desire, like he couldn’t get enough of you no matter how hard he tried. It was like you were his church and he was on his knees, praying for forgiveness for his sins, praying to your body that he worshipped unlike all the faceless saints in the world. Your hands collided with his hair, intertwining the soft locks of dark brown and pulling on it, pulling him closer. 

He would only kiss you in the confines of the Crow Club, where others couldn’t see. It bothered you at first, wondering if he didn’t want others to see that underneath all the cold and hard exterior he put towards the world: Dirtyhands could love. But that was just the thing, he didn’t want any of his enemies to come for you like he knew that they would. He didn’t want to put you in the face of danger anymore than you already did for him on a daily basis. To love him was to have a target on your back. 

At this point you knew of his aversion to touch, how his brother died, how it pained him to feel the skin of another upon his own. Instead of pulling away from his scars like he thought you would, you brought him closer, vowing that you understood, that you were sorry, that you would do whatever you could to make him feel better. Kaz thought for so long that he was a monster, and that may be true, but you weren’t a child, you weren’t afraid of the darkness that he had enveloped himself in for so long. You were willing to love him for who he was, no matter how much he tried to hide you from his truths. 

He could handle your kisses, finding solace in your mouth, the way it tasted like warm tea and the softness of your lips. And he accepted your small touches, starting slowly with tracing your fingers across his skin. You felt along his veins, taking extra care with his scars, pressing a kiss on the ones that looked particularly new. His gloves would come off and he would do the same to you. Eventually more clothes came off, more skin against skin. He found solace again in your tiny sighs and moans that left your lips when he kissed there and there . . . and especially there. Neither of you had ever surrendered yourself to another person in this way, it was intimate and sent you both over the moon. It was just you both, alone in either of your rooms, loving each other no matter what. 

After both of you would lay in one another's arms, the glow of the candlelight enveloping both of your bodies. There wasn’t much talking, maybe some if there was something particularly on either of your minds. You idly traced patterns on his skin, comforting him when he flinched, reminding him that you were there. He would be okay. 

[navstuffs]

Dry-humping Leon Kennedy, who is wearing Graves's outfit. 

Based on this mod. TW: dry humping/knee humping, masturbation, gloves, clothed male, tiny little tease at the end, gn!reader. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!! lowkey dedicated to @sarahs-secrets2 biggest grave's fan i know

my leon's masterlist

If Leon Kennedy could stop time right now, he would. He had to be out of your house within ten minutes if he didn't want to be late; he was never late, but all his responsibilities were thrown out the window when it came to you. Your presence influenced his mind and sense of duty.

"There is nothing bad on putting yourself first, Leon."

And there you are, legs spread apart, humping your clothed sex against his knee, a frantic desire for someone who won't see each other for weeks. Your eyes are locked on his, drowsy with pleasure, begging for more than Leon can give now. 

"Don't do this to me," Leon whispers, his cock twitching in his pants. He wants you to give you everything, but he limits himself to helping, gloved hands on your hips, creating more friction.

Leon glances from your focused face, to your chest, your hips, to then your covered sex. His eyes lust as he notices the wet spot in your underwear. Leon licks his lips unconsciously, his hands impatiently pulling your underwear down.

His gloved hands start rubbing your aching sex, not slow as usual times, but more frantic, his gaze directed to your face again, anxious to know if he is pleasing you or not. You yelp, surprised by the difference on the texture, not his warm hands, but the raspy texture of his gloves.

And though he isn't used to dirty talk (Leon always mentions how awkward and silly he feels), he still does it for you. 

"Can I can make you cum like this? Right in my knee? Please, so I can remember you."  

You answer with a sob, fingers digging into his shoulders. You start whimpering; so close now, so close to let it rip and cum in your underwear. 

It is Leon moaning your name, his hands stroking your sex, that makes the rope rip. You finally let go, locking your lips with his. After a couple of minutes of your heavy breathing, you look at the clock. Five minutes until Leon has to leave. He notices your intentions, stopping your wrist before it touches his bulge.

"Ah, ah. Not now ,later."

"We have time." You argue. Always so stubborn. Or spoiled by him, didn't make a difference.

"Let's just stay like this for a while, okay?" Leon asks, holding you tightly in his arms, your hands gripping his vest. You both don't say anything until you whisper.

"Do not dare to not come back to me-"

"I know."

"-I am serious, Leon!" 

"I know. I will come back to you, I promise."

A promise—a promise you both don't know when Leon might not be able to keep. But Leon promises it anyway because what lengths wouldn't he go for you? 

Less than a minute now. You sigh, ready to leave his lap. You notice he makes no motion to remove his gloves, and you can't help but cringe and feel powerful at the same time. You have a full view of what started all of this: the jeans, the blue shirt rolled up into his sleeves, and those darn gloves. Leon notices you staring and blushes, looking at you in that innocent way it drives you crazy.

"Don't start." You warn him. He raises his arms up, as if not doing anything. Bastard.

It is time for him to leave. You leave his lap, dressing Leon's old shirt from an unknown band from the '90s you were wearing before his arrival. You two kiss again, this time more tender, more gentle, sealing the promise.

Come back to me.

I will.

You let your man go, and Leon doesn't look back when the door closes. You bite your lips, and the sense of dread and despair when he is gone starts growing in your chest. You can't let sadness invade you like this, not like last time. A new idea pops into your head. But for that, you must call the other man in your and Leon's life. 

[stararch4ngelqueen]

omg is there any way you could do a continuation of the “pulling your clothes off smut” like he ripped her shirt and he’s happy to home but what next ??? it’s soooooo good

You didn’t get an ounce of a break when Jason’s thick cock broke through your walls with limited prep, too desperate to have your aching cunt cry on his cock as quickly as possible.

His tac pants were soaked, his balls coating with your juices the harder they slap against your reddened pussy.

Gloved hands pull you up back against his chest, tightly squeezing hold of your breasts to fuck you harder back onto his dick. 

“You missed me huh? Talk to me, tell me you missed this dick. Ohh, you greedy little bitch, just can’t get enough of me can’t ya?”

If you could speak properly, you’d let him have it. He ruined your clothes, bullied his fat cock perfectly against your spongy little sweet spot.

Instead, all you could emit were various, broken little euphoric cries.

Maybe your bored mind pictured Jason coming home and fucking you whilst in his suit. The perfect picturesque of rugged vigilante coming home and breeding you whenever he so damn pleased.

“Tell me,” he eagerly rasps in your ear. “Tell me, baby. Tell me you wanna be full of me, beg for me to fuck you full. Oh Shit- stretched around me, so fuckin’ pretty—“

The bastard might’ve been oblivious about your fantasies, seeming to only care of his own. To fuck you whenever he wanted after a failed or successful patrol.

“Oh shit, shit- don’t do that—“ His brash slams against your cunt began to falter, his grip traveling towards your hips in attempt to steady himself from your tightly squeezing walls.

You clenched harder, per Jason’s absolute delight. His chest rumbled with his lustful, desperate grunts perfectly exhaled along your neck.

“Ohhh my god, babe. Baby, you’re gonna fuckin’ drain me dry.”

In the only retaliation he knew, he garnered the decency to rip off his dirty glove with his teeth before assaulting your clit, feeling your body tense as your cries got just a little louder.

“That’s it, that’s it. Be good for me, fuckin’ come on this cock. All around my cock, that’s it.”

You had to finish first. Cardinal rule; Jason loved nothing more than a quivering, soaked and satisfied pussy to fuck his seed into.

“Be a good girl, gimme what I want. That’s right, gimme what I fucking want.”

[navybrat817]

Incandescent

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader, Steve Rogers x Female Reader, Bucky Barnes x Female Reader x Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes Summary: Bucky and Steve try to put on a show for you. Word Count: Over 1.7k Warnings: Explicit sexual content, implied vaginal and anal sex, threesome, bondage, dirty talk, tension, polyamory, possessive behavior, porn with feels (it’s me, c’mon), tattooed Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers (they’re warnings, okay?) A/N: Welcome back to my Howling Commandos Tattoo AU! Have you missed them? I know I have! I was nervous posting this as this my first dive into dynamics with Steve and Bucky, but I love it. If that isn't your jam, feel free to skip! ❤️ Beta read by the wonderful @whisperlullaby ​but any and all mistakes are my own. Banner created by yours truly, but Bucky and Steve photos were provided by the talented @nixakimbo ! Divider by the amazing @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky and Steve were your world. You weren’t afraid to voice that. In fact, you were proud to be on their arms when you were out together. You had their hearts and vice versa. You were their best girl. Their Blossom. Nothing would ever change that.

But once you got your hands on them, you were going to strangle them. Not enough to inflict real damage. You would never. You loved them. But they were going to feel some sort of wrath.

Fucking tattooed bastards.

You struggled against the binds, your wrists bound tight enough to keep you from escaping, but not enough to hurt you. Like you wouldn't hurt your boys, they would never harm you either. Your core throbbed enough to ache when they knelt on each side of you and faced each other on the bed.

Why did I let them talk me into tying me up? Damn them and their persuasiveness.

As Bucky moved his hand upwards to cup Steve's cheek, they smiled. From their profiles, you caught a hint of playfulness and something deeper before their lips met. A bond between two men who had been through hell and back together. Somehow you became their heaven on earth, allowing them to be with you and each other. And wasn't that the beauty in your relationship? Boundlessly loving and trusting each other?

No. I will not get mushy. Not when I'm frustrated.

Bucky’s tongue darted out to lick along Steve’s bottom lip as he pulled away. “I think Blossom wants a taste,” he said, turning his head to wink at you. Had you voiced your frustrations out loud or did he know you well enough that being a mere spectator wouldn't be enough today?

Both.

“And she’ll get one when we’re ready,” Steve stated, a sympathetic smile on his face as he gazed down at you. You wondered if he was secretly a sadist since he seemed to take pleasure in your current “pain”. “We made you too greedy, didn’t we, sweetheart?”

You squinted, trying your best to glare when they chuckled at your predicament. “You know why I’m greedy? Because you two can’t keep your hands off me OR your tongues, fingers, and cocks out of me. Excuse me for getting a bit used to it when you're to blame.”

Steve chuckled at that, not disagreeing with you.

He better not. I'm right.

A coo left Bucky’s mouth as he leaned down, his lips moving along your cheek before they stopped at your ear. “Who said we’re not giving you our tongues, fingers, AND cocks? Stevie and I just wanna have a little fun first while you watch. Is that so bad? Hmm?”

You whined in response, your hips rising and pussy begging for attention. Mandy joked that your libido was in permanent overdrive thanks to your boys and she wasn’t wrong. Your body craved and welcomed them. They fit like a glove, missing pieces that made you whole.

It was also a sight watching them. The view alone would've been enough to disintegrate your panties had they not destroyed them already. But tying you up so you couldn’t touch? Not even a small feel of Bucky’s bicep or Steve’s chest? It was cruel and unusual punishment and there would be retribution. Those bastards would rue the day.

No clue how, but they will.

“Do you need to touch us that badly? Are you that desperate for us?” Steve asked, raising an eyebrow when Bucky leaned back up.

“Yes! Have you seen you two?” You asked as they shifted their gazes to look each other over. They shed their clothes before they bound you to the headboard, giving you a chance to admire them. Hard muscles, sculpted tattoo gods, one blonde and one brunette. “You were created for at least one person in the world to worship you and drive people insane.”

“Aww, I think she wants to worship us,” Bucky smiled, gliding a hand down Steve’s chest. You watched the blonde swiftly inhale, knowing how much he loved the slow drag down his body. “What do you think?”

“Buck,” Steve groaned when Bucky firmly wrapped a hand around his cock.

“Maybe you can fuck my throat first?” The brunette suggested, lazily pumping him as you bit your lip. “Or at least let me get my mouth around it. Get your cock sloppy and wet before you fuck our girl.”

“Please,” you moaned, unable to spread your legs any further since they were still planted on either side. “I need it.”

If begging is what it takes, I'll do it.

“Or you can suck my cock before I fuck her? I know you love watching me slide in and out of her sweet pussy. She always takes me so well,” Bucky went on, Steve’s eyes slipping shut as he began to leave open mouth kisses on his neck. You understood why Steve shivered. Bucky had a very talented mouth. “Too bad she can’t touch herself while she watches like last time.”

Yeah. Too fucking bad.

“Touch her, Buck,” Steve ordered, making you and Bucky gasp when he gripped his hair and pulled him back with a smirk. “Slip those fingers in her cunt and show me how soaked she is from the sight of us.”

You were fairly certain that Bucky and Steve were the only men in the world who could speak about you like you weren’t there and get you hot and bothered. They didn’t have to touch you to prove how wet you were, but you weren’t going to stop Bucky from curling his digits inside you. Especially when Steve gave the order in that deep, husky tone.

“Please, Bucky?” You asked sweetly, raising your hips again. “I know I've been a little mouthy and impatient, but please? Show Stevie how wet my pretty pussy is?”

You shrieked when Bucky’s hand suddenly came down on your throbbing cunt, the smack loud in your ears. “Not your pussy, doll. It’s ours. Now be good and open up,” he said, his voice rough as he bent down and spread your lips apart with one hand, the other still pumping Steve’s hard cock. “Our pussy really is pretty. What a fucking sight.”

“You gonna apologize for calling our pussy yours?” Steve questioned, arching into Bucky’s touch the moment he slipped two fingers inside your wet hole. It hardly stung, the relief as he thrust his fingers making you whimper. “I think you owe us one.”

“Okay. I'm sorry, you fucking tattooed bastards,” you said, smiling dreamily at Steve when he narrowed his eyes. He said to apologize, but didn’t say anything about getting mouthy. Again.

“And this is why we tied you up,” he said, wiping the smile off your face. “You beautiful brat.”

Not fair.

“Oh. Now you’re being mean, Steve,” Bucky said, smirking when he brushed a thumb over your swollen clit. “But I’m not mean, doll. Gimme a few minutes and I’ll get my mouth on your perfect tits. Love hearing you whimper when I drag your nipples between my teeth.”

You shuddered with your next breath, your breasts lightly shaking with your exhale. Both sets of eyes on you darkened at the movement, your cheeks hot as you squirmed. Maybe being tied up wasn’t such a bad thing after all. It didn’t give you a chance to hide from their hungry gazes. It left you open, vulnerable, ready for whatever they gave you.

And you’d take it all because you were strong and eager enough, just like they took everything you gave them. It made sense why you were their Blossom. You bloomed into the person you were now and they helped you continue to grow. In some ways, you did the same for them.

“And who said I’m not getting a taste of anything?” Steve said, batting Bucky’s hand away from his cock. “Take your fingers out.”

Bucky swiftly removed them, making you whine at the loss. A punched sound came from your gut a heartbeat later when Steve gripped Bucky’s wrist and sucked his fingers into his mouth with a grunt, not stopping until they were clean. “I may not need to get your dick wet if she's that soaked. You might be able to slide on in while I fuck you.”

Fuck, please.

It was Bucky’s turn to tremble when Steve nipped at his earlobe. “I think you’d like that. Me at your back. Her at your front. Both of us loving you the way you deserve,” he said, before he turned a fond gaze your way. One that made your throat go dry. “Loving each other the way we all deserve. I know our best girl would agree.”

“Of course, I do,” you whispered. That wasn't lust speaking, but the pure adoration you had for them.

“I love you both so much,” Bucky said without fear or hesitation, his blue eyes sparkling with joy.

You stopped shifting against the mattress, tears threatening to clog your throat. How could they simultaneously turn you on and resort you to happy crying? They made your heart and holes full.

“Love you both, too,” you said, your chest rising and falling with your next breath. “And I’ll be good and watch until you’re ready for me.”

Bucky swooped down to catch your parted lips with his. Heat surged through your body as his tongue fervently tasted your mouth. As quickly as it began, it stopped so Steve’s mouth could replace his. It was just as demanding and hungry as Bucky’s before they turned their attention back to each other, leaving you a panting mess as you watched captivated as they licked and sucked, their kiss rough and desperate.

You knew exactly how they felt.

Steve’s hand closed around Bucky’s cock, swallowing down his groan of pleasure as you could only look on. You found yourself smiling again as they got lost in each other, each of them making sure to keep a hand on you. They were beautiful. They were yours. And they were your home.

Still might strangle them a bit once I’m free. Nah. I’ll just sit on their faces. Much better way to suffocate them.

Until they took care of you, you’d enjoy the show.

Blossom already has a revenge plan brewing. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Stucky Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[ramblingoak]

Ok @blacktie-whitenoise I went with Papa Copia and choice #1! But first we have to get through some phone sex oh noooo...

Ring Ring

Papa Emeritus IV x Female Reader ~ Your work day is interrupted by a phone call from Copia

Warnings: phone sex, fingering, cunnilingus, p in v sex, nsfw, 18+ only, mdni, 2400 words

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

“Cardinal Alero’s office, how can I help you?”

“Do you have any idea how badly I want to fuck you right now?”  You froze at the sound of Copia’s voice.  It was dark and low, his breathing ragged.  The only time his voice got like this was when—  “Well, dolcezza?  Do you?”

With a quick glance over at Alero you cleared your throat before you answered. 

“Uh, I’m sorry, what was that?”

“I’ve been thinking about burying myself inside of you all day.”

Fucking hell.  

“Oh?  That’s too bad.”

“Si, it has made the day very interesting.  Long.  Hard.  If you understand me.”

“Yes!  Yes I understand.”

Very faintly you heard the sound of his belt clinking and the rustling of fabric.  Copia let out a loud groan and you could only guess he had taken himself in hand.  You spun your chair away from Alero’s desk so your back was to him.  It was doubtful the Cardinal had heard Copia, but you knew Copia was only going to get louder.  

He never was very good at keeping quiet. 

“I wonder what that old bastard would do if I were to come in there right now, oh cazzo, and bend you over your desk.”

You snuck another glance at Alero over your shoulder, freezing when you saw him watching you.  

“I, uh, don’t think he’d like that.”   Alero raised his eyebrow and you gave him a quick smile before spinning away.  “Can I call you back?”

“No.”  Copia’s chair creaked as he exhaled into the phone.  “I wouldn’t do that anyway, dolcezza.  I’d have to get you wet first.”

“Don’t worry Papa, that won’t be a problem.”  You squirmed in your seat, your body starting to respond to Copia’s words.  Vaguely you heard your name but you thought it was just Copia saying it under his breath.  “How about I bring you those files right now?”  

“Wet already?  What a naughty thing you are.  Are you having dirty thoughts about your Papa?”

“Yes, of course I am you idi—“

“Is that Papa?”  You yelped at the sound of Alero’s voice, jerking your head around to see him standing behind you.  When you nodded he reached out a hand and snapped his fingers.  “Give me the phone.”

“Do not give him the phone.  Tell him to fuck off.”

A somewhat delirious laugh left you and you covered the receiver with your hand. 

“Cardinal, Papa says not to worry.  He knows you’re busy.”  Copia snorted and you had to bite your lip to keep from laughing as well.  “He appreciates your hard work.”

“The only thing that’s hard right now is my dick.”

Alero frowned down at you and you could tell he was debating if he should insist on the phone or just take the compliment and sit back down.  Thankfully he seemed to choose the latter, a smug smile on his face as he turned to go back to his chair.  You slipped your hand off the receiver and turned away from him once more.

“What else can I help you with Papa?”

“Tell me dolcezza, are you wearing underwear?”

“No, Papa.”

“Mmm, so you’re just sitting there, bare for your Papa?”  You hummed into the phone, spreading your legs a bit unconsciously.  “If I was there right now I’d slip my hand under your skirt, then push two fingers right into your needy cunt.  Because that’s what you are right now, eh dolcezza?  Needy for me?”

“Yes, Papa.”

“Molto bene.  Soon I'd be able to fit a third inside of you and watch as you made a mess of my gloves.”  You thunked your head against the back of your chair, immediately sitting up again when you remembered you weren’t alone.  Copia let out a strangled moan and you winced, hoping Alero hadn’t heard it.  “Would you clean them for me?  If I shoved them into your mouth?”

“Yes, Papa.”

“Brava ragazza.  You’d do anything I asked of you, wouldn’t you?”

“Anything, Papa.”

“Bene.  Then come here so I can fuck you.”

Copia hung up the phone and for a few seconds you just sat there staring at it.  When it started beeping you scrambled to get it back in its cradle while looking for something on your desk you could use as an excuse to go see Copia.  Alero cleared his throat and when you looked over at him he was scowling.

“What’s the problem?”

“I uh, need to bring some paperwork over to Papa.”

“Why can’t he send a ghoul to come get it?”

Goddammit Alero.

“I'm not sure.”  You grabbed a random stack of paper and hastily stood up.  “He needed them right away.”

“Fine, but don’t dawdle.  There’s still a lot of work to do.”

You nodded, biting down on your lip savagely before you retorted with ‘yes, your work’.  With quick steps you left the office and did your best not to run towards Copia’s.  At the end of the hallway you turned right but immediately had to stop as you ran into someone.

“Shit!”  Copia’s hands grabbed at your elbows to help keep you upright.  “What took so long?”

“I had to come up with an excuse for Alero!”  You slapped the papers onto Copia’s chest and pushed past him.  “Now hurry up.”

Copia chuckled as he quickly followed you, coming up to your side and grabbing your hand.  You knew if you looked at him he’d have that stupid, dopey smile on his face and you weren’t sure you’d be able to stop yourself from kissing him in the hallway if you saw it.  As you both rounded the last corner before his office you froze at the sight of Sister Imperator and Nihil waiting right outside his door.  Copia cursed under his breath and wrapped an arm around your waist, quickly tugging you back around the corner.

“Now what, Papa?”  Copia muttered something in Italian before starting to usher you across the hall towards a closet.  He ripped it open, gently pushing you inside before following and kicking the door shut.  You both stood there in the dark for a moment until you heard Copia make a small noise when he found the light switch.  As the room came into view in the dim light you sighed.  “You always take me to the nicest places.”

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s a closet.”

Copia rolled his eyes and started walking your way, you started to back up playfully but there really wasn’t anywhere to go.  Your butt hit a desk that was shoved up against the wall and Copia grabbed your waist, grunting as he lifted you up to sit on the edge.  He placed his hands on your knees, squeezing them as he grinned at you.

“Are you still wet for me, dolcezza?”

“Right now I’m mostly dusty.”

He started to respond but instead he had to turn his head away to sneeze.  You slapped your hand over your mouth to cover your laughter, trying to look innocent when he whipped his head back to glare at you.

“Sorry, Papa.”

“Uh, mi dispiace, this is not how I planned the afternoon to go.”

“Oh Copia, it’s ok.”  You reached up and brushed some of his graying hair off his forehead before cupping his cheek.  “This is still better than dealing with Alero.”

Copia laughed, leaning in to give you a lingering kiss on your mouth.  He nipped at your lips when he pulled away before resting his forehead against yours.

“Let’s see if we can get back on track, eh?”  He kissed you again and then dropped to his knees with a grunt.  His hands squeezed your calves briefly before they began to move up to your thighs.  The leather of his gloves was warm against your skin as he started to push your skirt up towards your waist.  He lowered his head to the inside of your knee, mouthing at the sensitive skin there for a moment before he looked towards your cunt and took a deep breath.  “It smells like you’re still wet for me, dolcezza.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to say anything, you just pulled your skirt up all the way to expose yourself.  His eyes darkened when you spread your legs and he was able to see your folds glistening even in the dim light.  Copia grabbed the bottom of your thighs and lifted your legs up so they hooked over his shoulders.  His hands moved down to grip your ass, holding you in place as he pressed his face against your cunt.  He took another deep breath, growling when you wriggled a bit.

“Copia, please.”

His tongue sliding between your lips was his only answer.  Slow laps across your cunt over and over again.  You placed your hand in his hair and held on as he continued to lap up your juices.  His moans were getting louder so you tugged his hair to try and get him to quiet down.  In retaliation he covered your cunt with his mouth, sucking hard and causing you to cry out.  You both froze, meeting each other’s eyes as you waited to see if anyone had heard you.

“Hush now, do you want the whole abbey to hear you?”

“How about you make me?” 

Copia nipped at the inside of your thigh and you barely held in your gasp.  Before you could snap at him he pulled your legs off his shoulders and stood up, leaning in to take your mouth in a hungry kiss.  You moaned as you tasted yourself, grabbing onto his vest to keep him in place.  He pulled you closer to the edge of the desk so he could grind his cock against you.  It was straining against the ties of his pants and you quickly dropped your hands down to start undoing them.

“Si, cazzo.  I need to be inside of you.”  While you struggled with the ties he pressed his fingers against your entrance, both of you groaning when two of them slid right in.  Copia bit his lip and rested his head against yours.  “I knew it.”

You finally got his pants undone and shoved down far enough to free his cock right when he started prodding a third finger at your entrance.  

“Now Copia, now please now.”  

He pulled his fingers out of you, swiping them quickly up and down his cock before he pressed forward.  You dropped your head onto his shoulder as he started pushing in.  As your body stretched around him you bit at his shirt to try to keep quiet.  He was relentless, not even pausing until he was all the way inside.  The material of his pants was rough against your thighs as he began to move his hips in a small circle.

“So wet, so tight for your Papa.”  You didn’t bother trying to respond, you knew if you opened your mouth no words would come out.  When he slid a hand into your hair and gently pulled your head back you couldn’t help but whimper.  “Let me see you.”

You both panted into each other's mouths as he let you get used to his cock.  He moved his hand out of your hair, stroking a thumb across your cheek before pressing a soft kiss onto your mouth.  You hummed against his lips, then took a deep breath as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

“Help me stay quiet.”

“Anything, dolcezza.”

Your mouths connected again in a clash of lips and teeth right as he pulled out and thrust back into your cunt.  His thrusts were hard and fast, neither one of you having the patience for anything else.  You nipped and sucked at each other’s mouth, Copia thrusting his tongue in time with his hips.  The slick sounds of both filled the air of the small room and even though your moans were muffled you knew that anyone walking by would be able to hear you both.

You couldn’t bring yourself to care.

The edge was coming quickly, your orgasm ready to tear through you as Copia angled his thrusts so his cock brushed against that sweet spot inside of you.  With the way his movements were becoming more frantic you knew he was close as well.  He broke away from your mouth and you forced your eyes open so you could look into his mismatched ones.  

“Are you close, dolcezza?”  His voice was wrecked and his makeup an absolute mess.  You tried to speak but all you could do was whimper and clutch at his shoulders.  “Are you going to come on my cock?”

You managed a nod, your mouth opening in a silent scream when he brought a hand to your cunt and started rubbing his thumb around your clit.  That was the end for you, he kissed you again right as your orgasm ripped through your body, muffling both of your moans as he came as well.  He continued to thrust as his cock kicked and emptied inside of you before finally stilling, wrapping his arms around you to hold you close.  After a moment you finally found the energy to speak and lifted your head off his shoulder.

“I don’t want to go back.”  

Copia opened his mouth to respond but he immediately scrunched his face up, turning away right before a sneezing fit overtook him.  He stumbled back a few steps, pulling out of you quickly and making you gasp.  You looked around for something he could wipe his nose with, finally seeing a roll of paper towels on a shelf nearby.  With a wince you hopped off the table, grabbing a few towels and shoving them his way while you took a few to clean yourself up.  When you finished you turned to check on Copia, smiling when you found him staring at you and pouting.

“I wanted to do that.”  You mimicked his pout, laughing as he reached for you and yanked you close.  “That’s my favorite part.”

“Ugh Copia, you’re so weird.”

“But yet here you are, enjoying the finest closet our church has to offer.”  He leaned down to give you a quick kiss, before pulling away to look at you with a raised eyebrow.  “You can’t go back to work like this.”

“Definitely not.”

“No, you should come to my quarters instead.  I need your help with something else.”

“Anything, Papa.”  He grinned at you, that infectious smile of his sending a thrill through you like it always did.  You reached up to smooth some of his hair back as you returned his smile.  “Anything.”

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

my masterlist

my ao3

[tacticaldiary]

I just recently found your blog and am in love with everything about it You are a very talented writer and I look forward to your post so I was wondering what you think it would be like sharing a bed with ghost

I Swear I Asked For Two

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Fluff; The Classic 'One-Bed' Trope

She freezes when he turns with her, a strong arm banding around her middle, holding her in place. "You gonna make me hold you in place?"

Bless whoever's up there for the dark because her face is burning.

"Would love that, actually." She mutters to herself before she can reign the impulsiveness in.

Masterlist

"Don't hurt me." Raises her hands in surrender, taking an exaggerated step away from him as the door to their room clicks shut behind them. "I swear I asked for two."

Ghost, bloody and dirty and exhausted, runs a hand down his balaclava-covered face, dropping his bag somewhere near the wall behind him. "Better than the floor." Is all he manages.

Once she's sure she's not in any mortal danger, she shoves back her bag next to him and kneels down, rifling through it. "Wash up first, L.T. I'll go after." There's no response but he must agree because he goes off wordlessly, a testament to how he must be just as exhausted as she was.

12 days. 12 days they had been trekking through this rural town trying to track down a target. The man had infiltrated their chain of command and had been feeding crucial information to the enemy for over a month, information that had led to quite a few of their operations being compromised. Needless to say, once he was found out he had ran in the middle of the night.

A slippery bastard.

Long stretches of land, a lot of camping out and surveying the area. Days and days of hunting this man until he was finally caught. Secured with the unit that had been traveling with them, they'd relinquished their target and been ordered to wait for exfil the next day.

Until then...well, this shady motel would have to do for the night.

They're lucky they were near a town and not in one of the long stretches between them, that much she's grateful for. Even if she didn't completely trust the room's ceiling to cave in while they were sleeping.

Stains on the walls she doesn't want to think about, cracks in the ceiling, and of course, the one queen sized bed pushed back to the far wall.

The bed.

Truthfully she doesn't know how she managed to keep her voice steady before. Her stomach was rolling at the thought of having to share a bed with him. With Ghost. With Simon.

He was...well, she thought he was extraordinary. Capable, brave, and funny in his own way. It hadn't taken long for her to develop some sort of a crush on him.

And now she was supposed to bunk down for a night with him? On that bed? Alone?

She shakes her head, focusing on rifling through her pack to find a spare set of clothes. They'd slept in worse conditions before, this was no big deal.

No big deal at all.

She curses as she finds her other pair of clothes filthy, mud staining the fabric. She'd forgotten about how she had to use them already after an unsavoury encounter with one of the locals.

"Something wrong?" She jumps at the deep voice, head snapping up to see him.

His hands are stripped of his gloves, his tactical vest off and away. A soft t-shirt takes its place, along with sweatpants that she has to make a conscious effort to tear her gaze away from.

This simply wasn't fair. It's like he's making this whole situation ten times harder for her on purpose.

"Negative." She says instead, standing up. "I'll have to make do with these clothes, forgot my spares were filthy." He studies her in that silent way for a beat, before he leans down and rummages through his pack.

Leaving him to do whatever, she pushes open the bathroom door while wondering how quickly her clothes would dry if she ran them under the tap-

"Here."

Ghost holds out a spare shirt to her. Plain black.

His.

"What?" It takes a second for her mind to catch up.

He cocks an eyebrow. "You're filthy. I'd rather not sleep next to someone who smells like shit."

The insult draws an indignant bark of a laugh from her, "I don't stink." She exclaims, snatching the shirt from his grip. "Not as bad as you do."

"Tell yourself that." He deadpans, but she swears she can see a hint of an amused smirk beneath his mask when she slams the door in his face.

Muttering to herself, she cleans up before slipping the shirt on. It's obviously large on her, just skimming the bottom of her thighs. It smells like him, something so distinct and familiar it makes her relax on instinct.

It's a wonder what good a hot shower can do for you.

Ghost is already stretched out on the mattress when she emerges from the room. He spares her a glance, and she visibly sees something like muted interest snap into his eyes even despite his lack of words.

She'd be lying if something in her doesn't preen at the way his eyes subtly follow her across the room.

Neither of them exchange a word as she slips into the covers next to him. Both of them barely fit on the mattress, but neither having the energy to complain. They don't brush against each other but if she shifted they'd definitely touch.

The room was secure, they'd done a thorough sweep and checked the doors and window, all the locks and for cameras. Nothing of interest, so they allowed themselves to let their guard down.

"Sharp 05:00 tomorrow, Sergeant." He says into the dark.

"Copy." She stifles a yawn and they fall into silence.

His heat is unbearable. She can't push the thought out of his mind, the knowledge that he's right there, a fingertip's distance away. She can hear his steady, quiet breath, almost taunting her.

Despite her exhaustion, she stays awake, turning onto her side away from him hoping that the movement would dislodge the thought from her mind. She needed sleep, needed to relax but isn't that impossible with how all she needs to do is lean back a little to touch him-

She huffs silently, turns onto her back again, rustling the sheets.

No, this was bad. Her body's tired but her mind and heart are racing. Traitors.

She shifts onto her side again-

"Fucking hell, will you stay still?" He rumbles, startling her. The gravelly, tired voice shoots straight to her head and if she were standing she's sure she'd have to grab onto something to stay upright.

She mumbles out an apology. "Can't sleep. Little chilly, isn't it?" She bluffs.

When he stays silent, she thinks he may have just accepted the answer. Letting out a shaky exhale, she turns again-

She freezes when he turns with her, a strong arm banding around her middle, holding her in place. "You gonna make me hold you in place?"

Bless whoever's up there for the dark because her face is burning.

"Would love that, actually." She mutters to herself before she can reign the impulsiveness in. Her body stiffens when she hears her own voice, and she's ready to spring up and apologise, tell him she didn't mean to make him uncomfortable, ready to banish herself to sleep on the floor.

But then Ghost hums.

His hand starts to drift. She swallows as he traces a slow path down to where his shirt's hem is, toying with the fabric between his fingers.

Dream, this must be a dream-

He tugs her backward into him, into his warmth and his soothing scent and something about it has her going completely boneless. It felt...comforting. Felt nice to be held. Ghost takes to tracing small circles into her skin, soothing and repetitive. "Relax." He orders, albeit with less of a push.

A shiver runs down her spine as she feels his breath fan over the back of his neck. The bastard notices too, if for the way his chest rumbles with a chuckle.

There's no way Ghost doesn't feel her heart pounding against him.

Maybe it was the comfort of the dark that makes the both of them so bold, but she takes in a shaky breath and reaches for his hand, stilling it in place with her own. They stay like that for a moment, and suddenly the silence isn't as unbearable.

Eventually, her breathing evens out, her eyes become heavy and she finds the tension draining out of her. Nothing would happen to her here, she didn't have to worry about anything right now. Just sleep. Just sleep and the warmth that enveloped her, and why the hell was he so warm and why does she want more of it?

Right before she lets the lull of sleep pull her under, she mumbles a whisper of thanks to him.

She doesn't think she imagines the content sound he lets out in response.

Reblog, Like and Comment!

(2/09/2023)

[fuckmyskywalker]

🪄 — Anakin Skywalker.

— PROMPT: 🪄 “I’ll do anything you want me to do to you, but you have to say it out loud.” — request with this prompt list!

— CW: 18+!, smut, dirty talk, slapping, dom!Anakin, mean!Anakin, dacryphilia, brief mention of breeding kink.

— A/N: I'm so sorry Anon, I accidentally posted the request before it was ready and I had to delete it :(. I am an idiot. I hope you like it! I've been feeling super burnout lately so I hope this is good!

Anakin was supposed to only be your bodyguard. Yet, somehow he ended up being your lover.

His burning passion was contagious and more often than not, you craved his presence more than anything else in the planet. Anakin was addictive, his love was like an aphrodisiac that will ignite every cell in your body and his touch was soft as silk and strong as durasteel. Saying Anakin was an sight for sore eyes was definitely an understatement; The bastard was beautiful, tall, carrying an extravagant air with him and making his presence known at all times.

But his personality... sometimes leaves too much to be desired.

Anakin is more of a taker. He is demanding, hotheaded and quite stubborn. The only thing comparable to his beauty was his possessiveness and urgency for you. He carries a casual domination with every step, always keeping a hand on the small of your back, guiding you with his hand around your arm, lingering touches on the exposed skin of your shoulders, brushing hairs away from your face, too many eye contact...

Oh Maker- the eye contact.

Those deep, blue irises that praise the ability to communicate what words can't, devouring you with a single look and undressing you with a simple gaze.

Those same ocean eyes, blown out, dripping with desire stare at you from above, while he keeps the same hand that under the sun is protective and gentle, but under the moon is rough and authoritative around your neck, keeping you pinned down to the large bed of your luxurious chambers.

You were aware of the loud noises coming from your room, whoever was awake at this hours wandering around the Palace would hear your desperate moans and Anakin's animalistic growls, the incessant skin to skin slap and his filthy, condescending talk.

His gloves hand grips your hip with brutal force you had only imagined in battlefield, maintaining your ass in the air while he pushes your face against the fluffy pillows, promptly forcing you into a painful bu pleasurable position.

"What was that?" Anakin asks with a smug smirk, stopping his thrust. The lack of movements makes you whine with disappointment, urging your own hips backwards seeking for more friction, any movement, anything, really. "Stay still." He then warns you, swatting your ass.

"Anakin- " You whine, closing your eyes and feeling your brain melting into a pitiful mush. "Don't stop!" It was supposed to be a request but the frustration that come with it makes it sound more like an order.

Which earns you another slap this time harder than the first one. "Don't forget your place, slut." Anakin hisses leaning towards you, his tanned, toned chest brushing your sweaty back. "You belong in a cheap whorehouse, don't know how you managed to be a Senator."

The degrading comment has the desired effect, as your pussy clenches around his hard cock, boosting his ego.

"You want me to split this pretty pussy in half, sweetheart?" He teasingly asks, already knowing the answer but always the mean bastard, he continues taunting you.

"Yes" You choke, tears pricking at your waterlines. You would've nod your head if you could've.

"Say it." He urges, punctuating his demands with a quick, sharp thrust, the size and length of his cock and how much it affects you, not helping at all with his egocentrism. "I’ll do anything you want me to do to you, but you have to say it out loud.”

Some tears roll down your flushed cheeks, soaking the pillows and making Anakin practically salivate at the sight. There is something about seeing you cry while being stuffed up with his dick that brings him more happiness than anything in the Galaxy.

"Please— fuck me." You beg in a meek, submissive voice. "I need you, please Ani—"

Feigning annoyance, Anakin squeezes your throat cutting your plea midways. "That's all your pathetic brain can muster? Just a few orgasms and you become a brainless bitch?"

But he complies anyways, because Anakin is devoted to your pleasure. He knows you want nothing more than to come, and who is he to deny you such thing? He begins his ruthless thrusting, brushing your insides and hitting that spot that makes you scream and see stars. Anakin moans louder and his words become meaner, gritting his teeth to hold back his own orgasm in order to make you reach yours first.

"That's it, keep whining like a bitch in heat." He growls, almost laughing at the messy state he has converted you into. "I should drag your fucking ass to the floor and fuck you like the cheap slut you are."

The wet sounds of your pussy struggling to keep up with his assault are borderline obscene and total music for Anakin's ears.

"Can't wait to knock you up and show everyone you aren't a prissy little woman— more like a needy, cock-hungry slut." Anakin is really feeling the fantasy, although the undertones sound a little too real.

The thought of him getting you pregnant shouldn't excite you as much as it does; and Anakin, the ever observer notices it. He speeds up, now rutting into you like a madman who's only mission is bringing you to the edge of pleasure— which doesn't take him long. After a few more dirty promises and thrusts your climax unravels, blowing your mind just like he is blowing your back. Anakin hangs his head back bottoming out for a moment at the feeling it of your pussy squeezing him in a tight lock, as if she was asking him to stay there forever and never leave. The new wave of slick that coats his length eases his movements, instead of pulling out he just lowers the pace, rocking your orgasm and prolonging it as much as possible.

Breathless, used and satisfied you sob against the soft fabric, smiling softly. Anakin mirrors your smile, bending over and kissing your sweaty shoulder.

"You think I'm done with you?" He asks in a gentle whisper, peppering kisses over your skin. "Stand up and get on the floor, I'm keeping my promise."

[heartfullofleeches]

By the teeth

Creep Yan + G.N Friendly Creep Reader Blurb

Warning: light gore

You're so nice.....

A fraction of your kindness was more than they had ever received. It was real too - not like teachers or peers who were always told to look out for the weakest link. The sincerity and care in your words reached your eyes; yet another thing they'd never witnessed before. As if you couldn't get anymore perfect, you even shared some of the same interests. When they gushed about their favorite films you came to them the next day carrying a signed poster. The envy they felt when you informed them the actor who's signature you possessed died not even a day later. You gave it to them as confirmation of your new friendship and that's when they knew they were in love. You don't even free out when they show you the dead things their cats bring. It must be meant to be.

You're so kind - to everyone you met. It's the bridge that separates you. Whereas they walk home alone, you have a group to guide your way. You invite them everytime, but they know they aren't welcomed by all. So charismatic and cute and sweet. It's no wonder you have so many admirers. It's only in your nature as innocent soul to attract demons so they don't blame you when you're asked out on dates. They don't blame you when someone walks up to you with bashful eyes and a blushing smile - asking to meet somewhere you can truly be alone. They don't blame you...not at all.

Which is why they'll hate themselves even more for what they were going to do.

Gloved fingers grip at their clothed mouth. They'd make it look like a robbery gone wrong. Just one stab. Just one - and it'd all be over. If anyone was to blame, it was them. Any bastard who would drag their angel into a dingy, dirty alleyway deserved to die. They prayed their rage wouldn't get the best of them. If they got carried away and your eyes met, they'd die right on the spot.

Their thoughts are interrupted by something...strange. A wet, slurping noise floods the alley - pained gurgles and groans creeping between each intake. They couldn't see well with their shades. The two of you were just- standing there; locked in each other's arm. Your hands claw red streaks into your partner's back and that's when they realize how truly off this felt. They - they were hurting you. The creep's actions would be justified in this scenario. Maybe God was finally giving them a chance.

Clutching the handle of their knife, they proceed forward - scene unraveling with each step.

One - your arms tighten around their waist.

Two - your head rolls back.

Three - the tender flesh of their neck pulls with it. You'd already torn a hole through their jugular and the gush of carmine overflowed your gorgeous lips as you went in for another. Gulping the thick substance down your stuffed throat, you pull the limp figure to your chest as your lips crawl to their ear. You shake them gently, pouting as they fall slack in your arms.

"Heyyyyy, you were all over me a second ago... What happened?"

The childlike glee in your voice gave them chills. That bubbly ting that made - still makes their heart leap. You go in for one more bite, dropping them like a sack of potatoes as you chew. The body collapses into the earth as their knees give out. They fall a second later than it, catching your guard. You wave

"Mhm-mhm!"

You step over the body and towards them. They pedal backwards, but you're far faster being on both of your feet and bounce before they can even try to get up. Their eyes search your face for anything. Are you going to attack them too? Why was their heart racing so fast from the thought? Why were they jealous they weren't the first? They shut their eyes, bracing for the worse.

"mmmmmm"

Light assaults their senses as they force themselves to face what you have done. Rather the sting of a bite, they feel something softer - centered on their lips. It was another pair. You were kissing them. The shock loosened their tight jaws, allowing you to siphon the fatty blood clung to the roof of your mouth into theirs. They weakly beat your chest, forced into swallowing by the lack of oxygen and your hands around their throat. Their thighs clinch as you squeeze. Thick clots bind you as you pull away. You smile that beautiful - teeth dyed red. They lick your canines.

"-wahh! Whew! That was more than - and way grosser than I expected. Must've been a smoker. Anywho, as I was saying - hello! I've been wondering where you've been. You haven't followed me home this past you nights. I missed you, ya."

You pinch and smack at their cheeks as they stare off - stunned.

"Hmph, you can make up for it by getting rid of that for me. Call me when you're done and we can watch something together, kay. I'm sure you have my number, but lemme make sure it's the right one."

They had you their phone. You punch in your contact information, happily humming away and bouncing to a song that came to mind. You kiss their cheek as you jump off them.

"Pick up something to eat when you come too or I'll eat you next. I'm starving. See you soon!"

As you walk off they look down at their phone. There's a heart and a hallo at the end of the title you gave yourself. Your angel. They clutch the device to their chest.

Love really did exist....even for someone like them.

[theradiostarr]

𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠. . .

“ marked ”

╰┈➤ in which dazai marks chuuya up

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Dazai was smart, this much Chuuya knew.

He knew the bandaged bastard had done it on purpose.

His comfortable black choker did little to hide the purple blooming under his skin, spreading beneath its leather with such meticulous placement that the red head could not cover it up easily.

Sighing, Chuuya took a long drawl of his cigarette, feeling the ash scorch his lungs. No, Dazai did not do this as a show of possession, he had done it to torture him. This the man was sure of.

Dazai did not care for shame. Chuuya was a man of dignity, always making sure his hair was clean and nails trimmed, coat ironed professionally, but his partner, alas, took every opportunity available to ruin him.

Each passing glance at a mirror, a shop window, a perfectly shined glass, immediately sent a wave of heat to his groin.

‘That damn mark.’

It only acted as proof of last night's endeavors, the picture of Dazai sprawled out so nicely beneath him, so pliant and behaved, it was enough to make Chuuya’s mouth water with want.

He had to deal with this all day, along with the odd snarky comment from Tachihara. It was painful having to sit through meeting after meeting, sort through paperwork, train the lower ranks and brief future missions with the annoying beanpole on his mind. It was infuriating, but at last, Chuuya thought it was over once he stepped out of the elevator.

Until he stepped foot in his apartment.

“Chuuuuuya!”

Chuuya wanted to slam his head against a wall.

What could possibly be worse than thinking of Dazai all day? Oh, I know-

“Welcome home, Chibi~”

-Dazai overstaying his welcome.

“I thought you said you were fucking leaving.” Chuuya cursed, rubbing his temples as if the man had manifested him a premature headache.

“I was, but then I thought about how lonely and miserable Chuuya would be without me, so I begrudgingly stayed.”

‘Begrudgingly’ wouldn’t be the correct term, there, in Chuuya’s lounge room, sat Dazai. Perched happily on the couch with some reality TV show playing quietly, Chuuya could also see he’d welcomed himself to the pantry, dirty dishes wasting in the sink. He’d strangle Dazai later.

Because what Chuuya also noticed was Dazai adorning one of his stupid oversized sweaters, which hung stupidly over his shoulder. The smug bastard smiled innocently as Chuuya’s eyes roamed over the blossoming marks where his bandages didn’t reach.

Every inch of skin that the man graciously let the world see had been littered with bites and bruises, in a silent worship. Chuuya couldn’t help it, art was meant to be admired.

“What’s wrong Chibi, cat got your tongue?”

Dazai knew what he was doing when he stuck his tongue out at Chuuya, winking suggestively at the petite mafioso who was surely losing his composure.

“You insatiable bastard” He murmured, stepping closer until he was toe to toe with the sitting man. Gripping his chin tightly he forced Dazai to look up at him, who held his gaze proudly.

“You’re pretty talkative for someone who was on his knees last night.” Chuuya had little resolve, the taunting only fueling his thoughts that have been plaguing him all day. It was truly an honor to see such a smart and composed man such as Dazai reduced to nothing but a whining mess. An honor reserved for Chuuya alone.

“Chuuya likes it.” Dazai nuzzled his face into said man’s palm, rubbing his cheek affectionately. Chuuya almost softened at the display, until teeth sank into his gloved hand and a hand gripped his arm tightly, pulling the smaller man into his lap.

Chuuya could’ve easily stood his ground, but he found that hard to do with Dazai.

Dazai desperately sought to be as close as possible to Chuuya with his arms wrapped tightly around his neck. Resting his hands on the taller man's chest, Chuuya indulged him a little by connecting their lips desperately and nipping at his bottom lip, drawing a low whine from the other's throat.

Dazai jolted when Chuuya’s warm hands reached the cold skin under his sweater, exploring every inch from his hipbone to his chest. He purposely avoided each sensitive spot that gave Dazai exactly what he wanted, making him squirm.

“Stop teasing” he pouted, bucking his hips up slightly, seeking that friction he was beginning to crave.

“But Dazai likes it” Chuuya mocked, pinning his hips down and preventing him from moving.

“And Dazai is the one who made my day extremely long, so he’s just going to have to shut up and be a good boy for me now.”

[undiscovered-horizon]

Old dog, new tricks - Kaz Brekker x Reader

SUMMARY: Looking for someone to give you a quote on a stolen painting, you find yourself reaching out to a middle-man called Dirtyhands or the Bastard of the Barrel. Little do you know, you've met him before. A long, long time ago...

WORDCOUNT: ~ 1.7k

It's pouring in Ketterdam. Black clouds cover the sky, hanging so low it looks like the bell towers scrape them. Thunder rolls in the distance. Some say that rain is refreshing, that it cleanses body, mind and soul. Perhaps it does but not in Ketterdam - the rainwater only leaves pedestrians feeling dirtier as though the coal-coloured clouds tainted it. The air begins to smell in an odd way as if the water washes something foul before falling to the cobbled streets; something not quite alive that can’t seem to die. But perhaps those somber words are true and thunderstorms truly do cleanse. In that case, it isn’t some largely unknown flesh rotting away but the sins of the city and its people washing the streets before falling down the drain like many things do in Ketterdam.

Those who can, flee the streets into the warm confines of their homes. Hats, umbrellas, even newspapers - anything just to keep the dirty water out of their faces. Some of them would mutter a swear word between pants and grunts as they made haste to the nearest shelter. Those who can’t, however, do not seem any grumpier than they usually do. For them, it’s just another day of soaking in the black rainwater stained with the unspoken secrets of the citizens. Wrapping worn-out coats tighter around their famished bodies, they cuddle the cold, stone walls a little closer before letting out a tired sigh. 

On days like this, bars and pubs earn their most delicious coin. If someone’s home is too far, a brewery is a great place to be with a good drink, a good game and tolerable food. Among the rather large group of workers, traders and unfortunate pedestrians is the most curious stranger. She stops for a moment to look above the heads, at the crow cast from iron hanging above the entrance. Dressed in a foundry worker's clothes and a patchy coat, she fits the landscape of Ketterdam like a glove. Soon, the stranger followers the other patrons inside.

Thunderstorm or not, the bar looks rather cosy and fashionable, considering its location and clientele. The standard was high enough to make the working class feel good about themselves instead of inadequate.

You squeeze through invigorated, already quite drunk, groups of people who have become friends the moment they accidentally sat at the same table. Some bump into you but they never apologize - hard to say where they can’t or won’t. Others, the sober and brighter ones, notice their pouches gone after some time when they go to make another bet. Furious, they throw their hands at the first miser their accusatory finger points to. Despite that, they do not see you, even if they do look. To all those poor bastards gambling and drinking their life away, you're nothing beyond a mirage dancing in the corner of their eye; a fleeting thought that you saw something but can't quite articulate the nature of the illusion. And just like the bar patrons, you, too, quickly dismiss the mare as a trick of the imagination. Just as soon as the thought of the phantom disappears, its place is taken by severely mundane things: a pint of beer, a frivolous smile of a scam artist, a suspiciously good streak of a cocky man.

By the bar sits a man with a top hat at his side. While all the other workers are busy losing their money, that one simply sits there with his back turned to the rest of the room. A bottom-up, empty glass is placed beside his hand. The man is waiting.

Sitting down on the stool next to him, you don’t let your eyes leave the prize. "You look like you've been around, good sir.”  The stranger turns to look at you. A spark of amusement glistens in his eyes. His brow lifts ever so slightly, beckoning you to continue. “Tell me, where can I find a man called Bastard of the Barrel?"

He turns his whole body towards you, leaning his arm on the bar counter. "Boss is pretty busy these days, you know? Might not have the time or desire to see you."

You give him a flustered smile, trying to appear a little too stupid to be cunning. "I won't take too much of his time,” you reassure him quickly. “If you could please pass the message to him that I have a painting from the Greaves' collection. I'm looking for someone who can give me a quote."

"That Greaves' collection?” he repeats. His face momentarily lights up as he surely sees right through your facade. “I thought it was impenetrable."

"They say that about every prison, don't they? And yet the world is as it is."

The man stares at you for a moment, his fingers frantically tapping the counter. Clearly, you’ve got someone’s interest. But will it be enough? 

"Quote or not, I think he'll be interested in this. Come on."

Without waiting for your response, he takes his top hat and leaves, walking past you towards a small staircase in the corner of the bar. You quickly follow in his footsteps, never getting too far from the man - you’re to appear as nothing more but his shadow.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice a streak of darkness move like a plant’s leaf swaying gently when there is no breeze. Curious, you follow the disturbance to what seems to be its source - a young woman dressed in dark robes. Leaning against a wall, in the corner where the yellow light doesn’t quite reach where it should, she’s impossible to notice to anyone who doesn’t know what to look for. In that spare moment, she notices you too.

Having walked up the stairs, your guide knocks thrice on the door but doesn’t wait for an answer before opening them. There, in the small office littered with papers, you notice a face so familiar and yet strange you begin to question your own sanity. Could it be…? 

It’s like staring at a winter landscape during a toasty, summer day - you know the fields in front of you are the same but at the same time, they will never be more different. His face is more serious than you remembered. Strong, sharp features accompany his light eyes to create a truly chilling demeanour of a seasoned man. Despite undoubtedly looking like a handsome, young man, a spectre of a boy he used to be lingers beneath his skin.

Feeling lost and shocked, you frantically tear the hood off your head. "Kaz?” you’re not sure whether you’re asking him or yourself. “Kaz Brekker?!"

His eyes widen momentarily. Before he knows it, Kaz jumps to his feet, having to lean against the desk because of his leg. He doesn’t seem any less surprised, although he does appear to be better at hiding it - at least on his face. "You sly old fox,” he says in a low voice. Something akin to a smirk curved a corner of his lips upwards. “You just won't die, will you?"

You can’t help but scoff. After all those years of wondering whether he’s even alive, you find him in a complete accident. "As much as I'd love to see you crying over me, I like being a nuisance a bit more."

"You know each other?" the man, whose name you still do not know, vaguely points between you and Kaz.

To your mutual, utmost surprise, the two of you answer simultaneously: "We used to." The shock seems to drown out the hint of nostalgia and regret in your voices.

“Right…” he nods slowly. “I’ll leave you to it then.”

And before you know it, the door shuts and it’s just you and him. On one hand, again, but on the other - for the very first time. The words used to dance in a merry-go-round inside your head. Painful, yet truthful. Yes, you used to know Kaz like no one else. It sounds, you realize, as though the last time you had met, it was a different world, a different lifetime. To some degree, it’s true.

“What are you doing in here?” Kaz asks curtly. You can’t help but find his tone angry, almost accusatory. A strand of his hair falls on his face.

Unwilling to face the responsibility of years of silence, you settle for half-hearted jokes. “Your office or Ketterdam in general?”

“Both, preferably.”

Has he always been this incandescent or has longing simply white-washed him in your memories?

“Same as you it seems - work,” you say with a shrug. For a moment, the two of you stare at each other, unsure what to make of this unforeseen reunion. Then, you let out a tired sigh. If you have changed as little as you think so, he can definitely see right through you. “I won’t lie to you, Kaz, this isn’t a social call. I come here in business. I stole a canvas from Jurgen Greaves’ private collection and I’m looking for someone who can give me a quote.”

Kaz clenches his jaw. His blue eyes stare into you, maybe through you, as he clearly ponders something. Before continuing, he sits down. “I know an art dealer who might be interested. But first, you’re going to tell me everything.” Do not be mistaken - it’s an order, not a request. Truthfully, he got out of the habit of asking and pleading.

"It's a long story and a lot less interesting than I'd like to admit."

"We've all night,” he states. Not letting his gaze falter, Kaz gestures to the chair across from him. He still doesn’t take no for an answer.

He’s absolutely furious but only partially at you. It’s mostly his lack of understanding that gets on his nerves - the girl he remembered, a skilled and beautiful woman now, could have anything she wanted if she only asked. So why would you choose this path? With pearls and servants within arms reach, what are you doing in the Barrel, among murderers and liars? The surname of Greaves' resounds in his head, only fuelling his frustration: not only did Ketterdam dare to taint you, but you've also made good friends with that black stain of filth.

His chest clenches and Kaz feels disgusted for a moment. The parasite of corruption has nested under your skin, spewing its venom into your veins.

“Oh, don’t make me blush.” Although your dismissal is nothing beyond a jest, you still sit in the appointed chair. Maybe you want answers too, after all.

Still staring at you with that stern, cold gaze of his, Kaz sits back in his chair, clearly unwilling to end this conversation anytime soon. 

[salstray]

Keegan P. Russ x fem!Reader - Guardian Angel 3rd person pov warnings: blood, bullet wounds, swearing, guns 1k words~

---

part 2 = part 3

---

“Keegan! Keegan! God damn it, respond! Where are you?!” 

Merrick’s voice was laying in his lap, calling out from the ear piece that had been knocked from Keegan’s head when the Fed sniper had slammed his elbow into the Ghost’s temple. That same sniper was now laying in a mangled, bloody heap at the bottom of the cliff he’d once been scouting from, but the pistol he’d used to punch a hole right through Keegan’s stomach was laying only a foot away from the sole of his boot. Probably still warm from the discharge. 

Keegan groaned, blinking a few times, slow and sluggish as he focused all his energy on pressing his glove to his leaking wound. 

He needed to use his other hand to press the radio. To make contact. Tell his team where he was and what his status was so they could, at the very least, get his corpse somewhere they could bury him. But everything was thick and syrupy. Coated in molasses and hard to push through. 

Already lost too much blood, he thought to himself. 

“Keegan!” Merrick’s voice was laced with desperation. Fraying at the edges, cracking as he called to him, over and over, begging for something, anything that would tip them off to his position. That would give them a hint as to where he’d ended up. Had he made it to the house? Had he taken out the sniper? Was he still alive?

They wouldn’t get their answers. Not from him and not from the bullet that had torn right through his intestines. 

Keegan’s eyes fluttered and he sucked in a deep breath as he tried to tug them open again. 

Focus. What do you see?

Greenery. Ferns and underbrush. The house the sniper had set up in had been some sort of isolated vacation home on the side of the mountain. More taken by time than the crash of ODIN to the earth. Simply abandoned. There was a moldy, dirty sofa to the right of the room. Sitting in front of an overturned coffee table. Brown with rainwater and animal activity. There was a perfect set of paw prints that he could track on the arm-rest. Probably a fox or something that had found its way through one of the many shattered windows, looking to take a few berries from the blooming bush that half hung down through the collapsed ceiling. 

His head rolled to the side, his cheek resting against his left shoulder as his breath slowly pushed free from his lungs. Keegan couldn’t feel most of his limbs at this point, but he didn’t let up the pressure on his wound, even if it wouldn’t do anything but delay the inevitable. 

The wall on this side of the house had also fallen in. Either by a storm, human interference, or something else, he didn’t know. Insulation flapped in the wind, softly patting the drywall that was steadily crumbling away to dust with time. Beyond the wall was a cliff. The one Keegan had full body shoved the sniper off of. A small smile twitched its way onto his cheeks under the mask at the memory of the scream. Then the echoing crack and the answering silence. 

At least I’ll see you in hell, bastard.

Finally, his eyes closed. It was supposed to be a blink, but… opening them again felt like it would take more energy then he had left… so they didn’t. 

“Answer me, Russ! That’s a fucking order!”

Sorry, Merrick.

“Keegan!”

End of the line.

“Keegan!”

“Keegan?” 

A new hand pressed against his. Warm. Soft. Somehow he could tell, even through the gloves and the icy feel of blood loss. 

“Still with me?” 

That wasn’t Merrick. His voice was rough. Commanding and sharp. This one was… quiet. Feminine. It wasn’t coming from his fallen earpiece, either. It was right in front of him. Clear as day. 

“I got you, Sergeant. Don’t worry. You’ll be okay, I promise.” 

He still couldn’t open his eyes. His body was heavy. Heavy in a way he’d never felt before. It wasn’t the pull of exhaustion. He was used to that, knew how to fight it off better than anyone. This was the drag of death. 

And yet... he was still alive.

The warmth that pushed through his glove bled through his whole arm. From the tips of his fingers up to his shoulder, then deeper, into his chest and his lungs. Then down into his wound. He didn’t feel the bullet push its way out of his body, but the quiet clink of it hitting the wood between his thighs made him flinch.

“Easy,” the new voice called again. Another hand appeared, cupping his cheek, warm and welcoming, the thumb brushing against the edge of the mask under his eyes, which he still couldn’t seem to open. “Almost done.” 

Almost done with what…?

Finally, Keegan’s eyes popped open. Wide and wild, shifting across the room, from right to left and back again, searching for the source of the voice. The hands, the warmth. But the room was empty. 

It was just him. The pistol. And Merrick’s voice from his lap, agonized and drenched in defeat..

“God, damn it…” 

Keegan’s right hand pulled away from his stomach, towards his rifle, which had fallen off his lap when he’d slid to the ground with his back to the wall, bleeding like a stuck pig. The other went to the earpiece and he wedged it back in place under the fabric of his mask before pushing at the button on his radio.

“Sniper’s down,” Keegan said simply. 

“Keegan?! What the hell, what happened to you?!” 

The Ghost’s hand fell away from his radio, down to his abdomen, where he’d been bleeding from minutes ago. But there was no blood to be found, now. Just a single hole torn right through his jacket, his hoodie, and his shirt, exposing a smooth spot of skin on his stomach, right under the line of his vest. 

There wasn’t even a scar. 

“Got held up. Heading back your way.” 

He’d figure out the details later. Think about the voice, the hands, the wound later. For now, he’d continue on, haunting Federation territory like he was supposed to with his fellow Ghosts, the quiet thought of Guess I got a Guardian Angel or something... in his mind.

[evita-shelby]

Hi if its ok on the ask . Tommy shelby x reader

While tommy was out in doing his dirty work as a gangster even in hidden legal work he noticed his wife y/n sneaking somewhere so he followed only to see her assasinating a target . He likes this surprise

Fatal Attraction

Gif by @enchantingqueenkitten

He knows he shouldn’t have lost tail of Russell like that.

But you had snuck off as you do on occasion and if he hadn’t seen you leave Churchill's office that day under an assumed name, he wouldn’t have followed you.

You were a mystery, one he liked to unravel as he got to know you better.

If you had come into his life sooner, perhaps his heartbreak would have been avoided, but he was a damn fool when it comes to love.

He follows you into the lady’s lavatory where he hears you flirt with his target with an Irish Accent reminiscent of Grace’s. In fact, Russell even calls you ‘Gracie’ before he begins to struggle with his assailant.

Tommy races into the lavatory, gun in hand ready to kill the bastard only to find you leaving the stall unscathed and looking only a little disheveled.

“Who hired you?” he asks gun still aimed at you even if he had no intention of shooting you. In fact, he was thinking of getting you a drink and rewarding you for a job well done.

“You first, Tom.” You hide your gloves in your handbag and turn your coat inside out.

“Pro-treaty Paddies and Churchill.” He supplied knowing you’d betray him.

“IRA. A bonus if I framed the one who killed two of their men in 1919. By the way, she will think you summoned her here with a note written in your hand. If I were you, I’d disappear before the race ends.” You order him around like no one’s ever done before and somehow, he doesn’t mind it.

And because there is nothing else left to say he shoots his gun into the stall and the both of you scream in terror like seasoned actors. The security fall for it, especially when the two of you give rather detailed accounts on the patsy chosen by those who hired you.

“I don’t know about you, but I could go for a whiskey right now.” Tommy offers you his arm as you go to the exclusive bar reserved for owners.

“How about champagne, love?” you suggest with a bloody red smirk.