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worstjourney · 5 months

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The Millennials' Polar Expedition

A year ago today (23 Nov 2022), I launched Worst Journey Vol.1 at the Scott Polar Research Institute. This is the text of the speech I gave to the lovely people who turned up to celebrate.

As many of you know, my interest in the Terra Nova Expedition was sparked by Radio 4’s dramatisation of The Worst Journey in the World, now 14 years ago. The story is an incredible story, and it got its claws into me, but what kept me coming back again and again were the people. I couldn’t believe anyone so wonderful had ever really existed. So when I finally succumbed to obsession and started reading all the books, it was the expedition members’ own words which I most cherished. These were not always easy to come by, though, so plenty of popular histories were consumed as well. Reading both in tandem, it soon became clear that, while there were some good books out there, there was a lot of sloppy research in the polar echo chamber as well.

I also discovered that no adaptation had attempted to get across the full scope of the expedition. There has never been a full and fair dramatic retelling, all having been limited by time, budget, or ideology from telling the whole story truthfully. I was determined that my adaptation would be both complete and accurate, and be as accountable as possible to those precious primary documents and the people who wrote them.

So the years of research began. I moved to Cambridge to be able to drop in at SPRI and make the most of the archives. Getting to Antarctica seemed impossible, but I went to New Zealand to get at least that much right, and on the way back stayed with relatives in Alberta, the most Antarctic place I could realistically visit. I gathered reference for objects wherever I could. Because Vol.1 takes place mainly on the Terra Nova, which is now a patch of sludge on the seabed off Greenland, I cobbled together a Franken-Nova in my mind, between the Discovery up in Dundee and the Star of India in San Diego. I spent a week on a Jubilee Sailing Trust ship in order to depict tall-ship sailing correctly. I’m sure I’ve still got loads of things wrong, but I did all I could, to get as much as I could, right.

But still, everyone I met who had been to Antarctica said, “you can’t understand Antarctica until you’ve been there, and you can’t tell the story without understanding Antarctica; you have to go.” So I applied to the USAP’s Antarctic Artists and Writers Program, with faint hope, as they do “Ahrt” and I draw cartoons. But I must have blagged a good grant proposal, because a year after applying, I was stepping out of a C-17 onto the Ross Ice Shelf. The whole trip would have been worth it just to stand there, turn in a circle, and see how all the familiar photographs fit together. But the USAP’s generosity didn’t stop there, and in the next month I saw Hut Point, Arrival Heights, the Beardmore Glacier (including the moraine on which the Polar Party stopped to “geologise”), and Cape Crozier, and made three visits to the Cape Evans hut. Three! On top of the visual reference I got priceless qualitative data. The hardness of the sound. The surprising warmth of the sun. The sugary texture of the snow. The keen edge on a slight breeze. The way your fingertips and toes can start to go when the rest of you is perfectly warm. The SHEER INSANITY of Cape Crozier. The veterans were right – I couldn’t have drawn it without having been there, but now I have, and can, and I am more grateful than I can ever adequately express. With all these resources laid so copiously at my feet, all I had to do was sit down and draw the darn thing. Luckily I have some very sound training to back me up on that.

Now, this is all very well for the how of making the book, and, I hope, interesting enough. But why? Why am I putting so much effort into telling this story, and why now?

Well, it means a lot to me personally. To begin to understand why, you need to know that I grew up in the 80s and 90s, at the height of individualist, goal-oriented, success-driven, dog-eat-dog, devil-take-the-hindmost neoliberalism. It was just assumed that humans, when you get right down to it, were basically self-interested jerks, and I saw plenty of them around so I had no reason to question this assumption. The idea was that if you did everything right, and worked really hard, you could retire at 45 to a yacht in the Bahamas, and if you didn’t retire to a yacht, well, you just hadn’t tried hard enough. Character, in the sense of rigorous personal virtue, was for schmucks. What mattered was success. Even as my politics evolved, I still took it as a given that this was how the world worked, and that was how people generally were – after all, there was no lack of corroborating evidence. So: I worked really hard. I single-mindedly pursued my self-interest. I made sacrifices, and put in the time, and fought my way into my dream job and all the success I could have asked for.

And then I met the Terra Nova guys.

What struck me most about them was that even when everything was going wrong, when their expectations were shattered and they had to face the cruellest reality, they were still kind. Not backbiting, recriminating, blame-throwing, defensive, or mean, as one would expect – they were lovely to each other, patient, supportive, self-sacrificing; in fact the worse things got, the better they were. They still treated each other as friends even when it wasn’t in their self-interest, was even contrary to their self-interest. I didn’t know people could be like that. But there they were, in plain writing, being thoroughly, bafflingly, decent. Not just the Polar Party – everyone had to face their own brutal realities at some point, and they all did so with a grace I never thought possible.

It presented a very important question:

When everything goes belly-up, and you’re facing the worst, what sort of person will you be?

Or perhaps more acutely: What sort of person would you rather be with?

It was so contrary to the world I lived in, to the reality I knew – it was a peek into an alternate dimension, populated entirely with lovely, lovely people, who really, genuinely believed that “it’s not whether you win or lose, but how you play the game,” and behaved accordingly. It couldn’t be real. There had to be a deeper, unpleasant truth: that was how the world worked, after all. I kept digging, expecting to hit bottom at some point, but I only found more gold, all the way down. How could I not spend my life on this?

Mythology exists to pass on a culture’s values, moral code, and survival information – how to face challenges and prevail. Scott’s story entered the British mythology, and had staying power, because it exemplified those things so profoundly for the culture that created and received it. But the culture changed, and there were new values; Scott’s legacy was first inverted and then cast aside. The new culture needed a new epic hero. You’d think it would be Amundsen, the epitome of ruthless success, but “Make Plan – Execute Plan – Go Home” has no mythic value, so he didn’t stick. The hero needed challenges, he needed setbacks, and he needed to win, on our terms.

Shackleton! Shackleton was a winner! Shackleton told us what we knew to be true and wanted to hear at epic volume: that if you want something badly enough, and try really hard, you will succeed! (Especially if you can control the narrative.) Scott, on the other hand, tells us that if you want something badly enough, and try really hard . . . you may nevertheless die horribly in the snow. Nobody wants to hear that! What a downer! I think it’s no coincidence that Shackleton exploded into popular culture in the late 90s and has dominated it ever since: he is the mythic hero of the zeitgeist. I am always being asked if I’ll be doing Shackleton next. He has six graphic novels already! That is plenty! But people still want to tell and be told his story, because it’s a heroic myth that validates our worldview.

That’s why I am so determined to tell the Scott story, because Scott is who we don’t realise we need right now – and Wilson, and Bowers, and Cherry, and Atch, and all the rest. The Terra Nova Expedition is the Millennials’ polar expedition. We’ve worked really hard, we’ve done everything we were supposed to, we made what appeared to be the right decisions at the time, and we’re still losing. Nothing in the mythology we’ve been fed has prepared us for this. No amount of positive attitude is going to change it. We have all the aphorisms in the world, but what we need is an example of how to behave when the chips are down, when the Boss is not sailing into the tempest to rescue us, when the Yelcho is not on the horizon. When circumstances are beyond your power to change, how do you make the best of your bad situation? What does that look like? Even if you can’t fix anything, how do you make it better for the people around you – or at the very least, not worse? Scott tells us: you can be patient, supportive, and humble; see who needs help and offer it; be realistic but don’t give in to despair; and if you’re up against a wall with no hope of rescue, go out in a blaze of kindness. We learn by imitation: it’s easy to say these things, but to see them in action, in much harder circumstances than we will ever face, is a far greater help. And to see them exemplified by real, flawed, complicated people like us is better still; they are not fairy-tale ideals, they are achievable. Real people achieved them.

My upbringing in the 80s milieu of selfishness, which set me up to receive the Scott story so gratefully, is hardly unique. There are millions of us who are hungry for a counter-narrative. My generation is desperate for demonstrations of caring, whether it’s activism or social justice or government policies that don’t abandon the vulnerable. We’ve seen selfishness poison the world, and we want an alternative. The time for competition is past; we must cooperate or perish, but we don’t know how to do it because our mythology is founded on competition. The Scott story, if told properly, explodes the Just World Fallacy, and liberates us from the lie that has ruled our lives: that you make your own luck. What happens, happens: what matters is how you respond to it. My obsession with accuracy is in part to honour the men, and in part because Cherry was the ultimate stickler and he’d give me a hard time if I didn’t, but also because, if I’m telling the story to a new generation, I’m damn well going to make sure we get that much RIGHT. It’s been really interesting to see, online, how my generation and the next have glommed onto polar exploration narratives, not as thrilling feats of derring-do, but as emotional explorations of found family and cooperative resilience. We love them because they love each other, and loving each other helps get them through, and we want – we need – to see how that’s done. It’s time to give them the Terra Nova story, and to tell it fully, fairly, and honestly, in all its complexity, because that is how their example is most useful to us. Not as gods, and not as fools, but as real human beings who were excellent to each other in the face of disaster. I only hope that I, a latecomer to their ways, can do them justice.

#scott expedition #terra nova expedition #the worst journey in the world #captain scott #polar party #robert falcon scott #birdie bowers #edward adrian wilson #bill wilson #character #millennials #polar exploration #heroic age #adventure #sociology #neoliberalism

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haechvn · 1 year

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Maybe It's The Jazz

Pairing: Shuri x F!Reader

Warning: N/A

Word Count: 1.7k+

Summary/Request: PART 2 FOR STOP TRYINGGGGG!!!!

Author’s Note: I got about 20k requests to do a part 2 so here it is my babies. Even though it is fanfiction, I personally have sense so I like when my reader does as well. Anything that is underlined is a link to a previous story I wrote in case you haven't read it already. Enjoy!!!

Taglist: @melodykisses @blackhottie25 @tonakings @coalmistyy @szalipcombo @prettyluhlaiiii @yelenabelovasgf @callmeoncette @clqrosmgc @beautybyfire @theblacksuccubus @cherios @killmongerskeeper @shuris-whore @nut4shuri @gaspyghosttt @elliesdinosauar @idkhersposts @ziayamikaelson @trinthebean @sleepingnova @yunhofingers

Two years. It has been two long years since you walked out of her life. Two silent years since you have seen your ex-fiance. To say those years were easy for you would be a complete lie.

You had moved to the south of Italy and bought a beautiful beach house on the coast where nobody could bother you or disturb your peace. That peace only existed in your mind for a week. For the first month, all you could do was cry. Cry at the water’s shoreline as the sun kissed your forehead in comfort. Cry in the shower as the water provided a gentle pat on the back and cry on your afternoon walks as the wind tried to wipe your tears away. Sleep no longer became your safe place as your mind was riddled with the memories of your soon-to-be-wife cuddled up behind you, her nose brushing against your shoulder and just feeling safe in her presence.

Loving Shuri was the first time you had ever let anyone see the real you and the probability of her nervous self asking you out on your first date leading the two of you to get engaged was not something you expected at all. The two of you had been able to grow so much as individuals but also as a pair. You bared your souls to one another. Shuri breathed life into you and you did the same for her. You two fit together so seamlessly until you didn’t.

You didn’t regret leaving her at all. It allowed you to focus on why you are deserving of the best and truly prioritize certain things in your life. Your skin cleared magnificently, you felt like you were physically in the best shape of your life and you have been able to live your life to your hearts’ desire without any worry. You didn’t get seriously involved with anyone again but you have your fair share of dates and hookups during your separation. You have already forgiven her for her mistakes in your heart as you know that a number of things could have been clouding her mind at the time. Staying in that environment wouldn’t have done either of you any good. You know that if you were able to find love once, you are most definitely going to find it again. That was until love came knocking on your door one starry night.

You were in the middle of practicing a new pasta recipe as your chef that would usually come over for dinner had gotten sick. It was safe to say that the food you were attempting to make may or may not be safe for human consumption. It was 9:32 p.m., soft jazz played in the background and you had just smoked the cutest pink joint you rolled before deciding to cook. Maybe that’s why your food might end up in the garbage. You swayed your hips to the music and just allow yourself to feel free, arms swinging in the air with a smile stacked onto your face. You hadn’t felt this way for an eternity. The soft jiggle of your doorbell took you out of your elevated haze and brought you back down to earth. You had a strict policy about having guests come over past nine, so your mind is curious as you waltz over to the door, determined to figure out who thinks they can bypass your own rules.

You couldn’t help the startled gasp that left your mouth as you peered through your peephole. It’s her. It’s the Queen of Wakanda. It’s – your mind wouldn’t even allow you to utter her name, as it brought pain to your spirit just thinking about it. You raced back to the kitchen to throw off your apron and shut off the stoves. Why are you in a rush all of a sudden? What is the hurry for? It’s not as if you prayed everyday for Bast to return Shuri to you on a silver platter. That you wished and wished until you had no energy left to see her sculpted face one more time or be able to hold her in your arms again. Okay. Maybe you did. Dreams do come true and yours had found her way back to you.

Opening your front door, you were met with the strong presence of your ex-lover. With a single rose in hand, Shuri let out a shaky breath upon seeing you for the first time you had left. Your beauty still left her starstruck. She had imagined this day so many times, over and over, wanting nothing more but to pour her heart out to you and prove that she is a changed woman.

She realized that too much of her identity was shelved into how many tests she could perform, not how she shows up for people. It is a mistake she made for a very long time and promised herself she wouldn't let that become who she was meant to be, especially after finding the book T’Challa had left for the two of you.

Her mind had convinced her that you were in danger and that you were in constant need of protection but what could she have done if you told her to leave you alone. Shuri couldn’t sleep at night either, barely keeping up with eating properly and continually failed her science projects that she was once a prodigy at. Like you, time has allowed her to reevaluate her life. Being that you were her life, Shuri realized that no matter how much she wanted you back, getting you would not solve the issue at hand. She had to heal herself. This was the first time she was truly alone in that sense so navigating through her own mind, thoughts and actions felt like a never ending punishment at first but allowed her to blossom in the most beautiful ways.

She spent a lot of her time journaling, speaking with her ancestors as well as trying not to let her past mistakes define her. As she wished to shed the previous version of herself, the hardest part was convincing her mind that she too is worthy and deserving of a love that lasts a century. She just couldn't shake the feeling that the love she wished to experience again was you. That is why she stood before you now.

“Hello,” she said, her voice a slightly deeper than before but still commanding the attention of anyone she spoke to. Her hair was thicker, curlier but she still had that gorgeous undercut on the sides. She wore a sporty gray two piece, with her signature kimoyo earrings and what is that? A nose piercing? Okay.

“I have so many things I would like to say to you if you give me the chance. I know showing up here without letting you know may be strange but I couldn't take it any longer.”

You felt your heart race. It hasn’t done that in so long. You are mature enough to hear her out and listen to her words but you do wonder, knowing that time can truly change a person, if you are going to be met by the same Shuri. Just based on her present energy and stance, you can tell that this is a woman with intention standing before you.

Sitting in a comfortable silence outside on your porch, the ocean’s breeze greeted the two of you. Memories of the lengthy time you had spent together in Haiti on similar nights like this, under completely different circumstances. The rose she offered you laid between the grasp of your fingers, unsure of what to do next. She had just admitted that she hasn’t stopped thinking about you in the two years since you’ve been gone.

“I realized that even if I get the chance to be in your space again, I was going to have to fix the issue. I was going to have to fix myself,” her stark eyes never leaving yours, hand holding onto your free one and mind determined for you to see that she has transformed. She began to explain how she had truthfully done the inner work to address all the problems that she had within herself and reflected as well as seeking counsel from those closest to her. She just wanted you to hear her out, seeing as though the last time you had seen each other, Shuri didn’t have any words to share with you. Her heart and thoughts were no longer shielded by the insecurities and misfortunes of the past.

“Allow me to be the woman I was meant to be for you. Please. Allow me to love you the way you deserve and —,”

Her voice faded away as your eyes closed shut. Are you really willing to let her just walk back into your life when you are at your most peaceful? You aren’t opposed to loving again and you have healed your wounds. Your mind was in a healthy place as well as your physical and mental and love was the last thing you wanted to check off of your list. Shuri used to be your happy place and sanctuary. The least you could do is give her another chance.

You set your rose down on the coffee table to your right and turned to Shuri. Her eyes pleaded for you and spirit yearned for yours. Pulling her close to you, your lips ghosted around each other, feeling the light weight of her breath on you before carefully connecting your mouths. Scared and delicate. That’s how you would describe the kiss the two of you shared until you found ourselves back in the familiar pattern the two of you once shared.

Your chest warmed up and your heart felt like it might burst. She’s back. She’s back and she’s better. This is all you ever wanted. As much as you missed your relationship, you knew it was far more important for the two of you to heal no matter how much time had passed and now, the two of you can reclaim that love and start over. One step at a time.

You two knew that your souls just needed a little bit of time to recognize one another once more. There is no need to rush.

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myster-roca · 6 months

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Desires and Deception: Full Undercover

"Your assignment: Assume the identity of a high-profile businessman and fitness guru with deep connections to the underworld elite.

Your objective: Infiltrate a high-stakes bodybuilding event where one of the underworld's most influential figures, deeply involved in a clandestine affair, is about to take center stage. A complete physical transformation is your only cover."

On the surface, his existence seems so different from mine. He's deeply entrenched in the world of luxury, surrounded by the glitter and glamour of the upper class.

I lead a life of shadows and secrecy, a chameleon in the backdrop of society. While he basks in the spotlight, I thrive in the darkness.

Yet, as I become more familiar with his life, I realize that beneath the facades, we're not so dissimilar. We both wear masks, albeit of different kinds.

He portrays an image of power and wealth, and I craft identities to delve into the hidden realms of espionage. We're both performers, navigating the stage of our own making, just on opposite sides of the curtain.

Within the covert operations division, our team constituted a rare breed, masters of disguise, each possessing an exceptional talent for the craft of metamorphosis.

We shared an unspoken bond born from the countless secrets we held and the trust we placed in one another.

The intricately crafted muscle suit lay before me like a silent partner in this clandestine masquerade. I'd done this countless times before, but the excitement and tension of the moment never ceased to grip me.

This moment brings a complex blend of emotions to my entire body.

There's the weight of responsibility, knowing that I must seamlessly become another person, thinking, speaking, and moving as they do.

But there's also the thrill of the challenge, the adrenaline rush that comes with immersing myself in a persona utterly distinct from my own.

As I slipped into the suit, the material stretched and molded to my physique. My hands found their way to the attached silicone gloves. The snug fit accentuated every contour, making me look more sculpted than ever.

My team of ingenious innovators had left no stone unturned to make the muscle suit as lifelike as humanly possible. Their unwavering dedication shone through in the meticulous attention to detail.

My pulse quickened with anticipation as the muscles subtly inflated, intensifying the illusion of strength and confidence.

With every stroke, the skilled hands erased my facial hair, and I could almost sense a new identity taking shape.

The skintone had been impeccably matched, with the paintwork skillfully blending the boundary between reality and artifice.

I marveled at their exceptional precision as they carefully placed the snow-white silicone prosthetic skin onto my scalp, deftly concealing the intricate details at the rear.

Each brushstroke they applied infused the blank canvas with a spectrum of shades and tones, gradually merging it with the flesh-colored muscle suit.

The cap clung to my scalp, obscuring any hint of my natural hair. Their unparalleled expertise accomplished an astounding feat, vanquishing visible seams and ensuring a flawless integration with the rest of the suit.

As I rose to my feet, I could feel the muscles discreetly swelling, enhancing my size and making me appear more imposing. Enthralled by this transformation, I locked my gaze onto the mirror, realizing that, except for my own face, the reflection before me resembled that of a complete stranger.

The next phase was even more unsettling. I couldn't help but feel vulnerable, yet excited, as I closed my eyes and immersed myself in embodying the fitness guru's charisma and unwavering drive for power.

Seated before the vanity, I felt the cool touch of silicone on my skin. With each prosthetic piece, I watched myself morph into the figure whose aura and allure I admired and now emulated.

My own features were vanishing, slowly replaced by the chiseled jawline, pronounced cheekbones, and the perfectly shaped nose.

Each adjustment, every little tweak, brought me closer to becoming the fitness influencer I needed to become.

The transformation has reached its halfway point, yet I can't shake the persistent unease that lingers within me. Something feels awry, lacking in authenticity.

This void echoes the emptiness I've felt in past impersonations. The team is well aware of this predicament, which motivated them to develop a new technology aimed at resolving the issue. Although they conducted numerous beta tests, this marks the first field trial.

I stood from my chair and began to don the silicone muscle pants, preparing myself for the next step.

The pants appeared remarkably sophisticated, quite different from the silicone muscle pants I had initially envisioned. Nevertheless, the team assured me that this unique design was intentional, tailored to fulfill its specific purpose.

As I settled into a sleek, state-of-the-art machine, they assured me that it would serve as the catalyst for the forthcoming comprehensive transformation. The team then delved into an explanation of the pants' fabric and the silicone prosthetic pieces they had attached, emphasizing their integration with nanites.

They elaborated on how these minuscule marvels were precisely programmed to discern the unique contours and characteristics of my body, thereby enabling the seamless fusion of the material with my own skin. This intricate process would ensure an astonishingly lifelike and untraceable metamorphosis.

The machine enclosed around my waist with a gentle yet firm embrace. I could feel its mechanisms hum to life as it began its work. A warm, viscous liquid began to flow from the machine's hidden nozzles, gently cascading down my legs and torso.

The sensation was unlike anything I had ever experienced. It was as if I were being submerged in a pool of liquid silk. I watched, my heart racing, as the substance encased my legs and torso. It was as if the nanites and the liquid skin were in perfect harmony, dancing a choreography that was breathtaking to experience.

The machine released me, and I fell forward, landing on my hands and knees. The ground was cold and unforgiving, a stark contrast to the heat that surged within me. As I struggled to regain my footing, I realized that I was sweating, my skin tingling with life.

My skin glistened with sweat as the nanites engulfed my whole body. My senses were on fire as the second skin adapted to the shape of my own body, molding itself to me with an almost sentient understanding. I could feel the air against my skin as I breathed deeply, savoring the newfound sensations.

I stood on my feet, and a tidal wave of power surged through my veins—a breathtaking rush of unearthed strength that sent shivers of exhilaration cascading down my spine. I was utterly captivated by the profound transformation I had undergone.

It was as though this second skin had reshaped the core of my existence. It was no longer just a disguise; it had become a part of my own being.

Overwhelmed by curiosity and newfound confidence, I couldn't resist the urge to explore my transformed physique.

As I flexed my thighs, I could feel their utmost solidity, the sensation of unyielding strength resonating through my body. My legs, once unassuming and lean, now bore the weight of sculpted power.

Running my hands across my chest, I felt the hard contours beneath my fingers, swelling with a sense of pride. My pectoral muscles were now pronounced and firm. I couldn't resist running my fingers over the chiseled ridges of my new washboard abs.

With each movement, I admired the pronounced biceps and triceps, each muscle responding to my command. Flexing my forearms, the veins stood out like a roadmap of my uncovered power.

I had truly become the living embodiment of the role I was about to play.

With the transformation complete, I am reborn in the shadows, ready to dance into the abyss of intrigue and danger, playing my part in a game where trust is a currency of uncertainty, and the truth remains veiled forever.

To Be Continued . . .

#male body transformation #male bodysuit #body change #male transformation #male skin #male disguise #male body suit #male form #hot male

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ken-dom · 6 months

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Prioritise Pleasure

Lars Lindstrom x gn!reader

1.6k words

Summary: You help an embarrassed Lars learn to enjoy pleasure and embrace his desires (or, you want to make him cum but he’s nervous about it)

Author’s notes: this little fic was inspired by an idea from @ken-f-cker, encouraged by @hollandstrophyhusband, supported by @heresthestorymorningglory and exists because I just can’t leave this poor man alone. On that note, if anyone wants a part 2 of this with afab!reader, let me know! The title is taken from the album name of one of my Lars songs 🫶

Warnings/content: nsfw, hand job, subby Lars, dubious consent (relating to his orgasm), crying, praise

Lars felt so soft and warm beneath you, your leg hooked comfortably over his knee and your head resting on his slowly rising and falling chest where you listened to the steady rhythm of his contented heart. Your fingers toyed with the hem of his sweater and now and again you heard his heart jump when your skin met his under all those layers he wore.

His arm was wrapped firmly around your shoulders, strong and secure. Lars was stronger than even he knew, and butterflies soared in your stomach every time he displayed it, even in a subtle way like this. He made you feel safe.

You could have stayed like that forever, but everything must come to an end eventually, and the ending here was unexpected but actually very welcome.

Lars kissed the top of your head after you’d made him laugh with a silly joke. The warmth of his lips pressed to your hair was momentary, and he hadn’t even really realised he’d done it, but something in the air immediately shifted at that small affection and before you had a chance to really even process it, you found yourself sliding up his chest to meet his soft lips with your own.

He gasped when you pulled back for breath, diving forward, his head hovering above the pillow to smash his lips back onto yours with a fervour you’d only ever seen in him when he’d taken his temper out on the unsuspecting logs outside.

Lips sealed to yours, he hungrily sucked your tongue into his mouth, fingertips driving into your arms to keep you still above him while he eagerly explored your mouth.

Even with him laid beneath you, the force of his kiss was dizzying. You braced yourself with a steady palm against his chest, hiking your knee up further to steady yourself.

You felt Lars shudder, and with a whine so quiet you almost missed it, the kiss came to a jarring (and disappointing) halt.

You pushed yourself up further to see what was the matter, and as you manoeuvred, your thigh slipped down a little, and you felt it. The unavoidable, solid length between Lars’s thighs, pressed against your leg.

You stared down at him in awe, his eyes squeezed shut, kiss-swollen lips parted to let out shaky, uneven breaths, cheeks glowing red… and you wanted nothing more than to kiss him again. And to make him moan this time.

You pushed your thigh higher between his legs, pressing perfectly against his clothed cock, and, writhing against you, he whimpered with each trembling breath, the sound a simultaneous beg for more while chastising himself for wanting it.

‘Lars?’ you cooed softly, gently placing your palm to his burning cheek, which seemed to calm him somewhat.

He stopped bucking up against you and his face scrunched up with frustration and embarrassment, but he nodded and let out another nervous little whine of acknowledgement.

‘Hey, it’s ok… see?’

You slid the hand caressing his face down over his sweater, feeling his breath catch, and lower until you were cupping the bulge in his trousers.

Lars let out a stream of quick breaths, rendered unable to move. Had he ruined everything with his untimely bout of arousal? And why did it feel so good?

‘Lars, I’m ok with this… are you?’

He only blinked rapidly in response, so lost in a haze of pleasure and panic that he barely heard your words while he tried to process all the new feelings swirling around inside him.

With one swift stroke of your palm to bring him back to you, you tried again; ‘Lars, do you want this?’

He nodded sharply. ‘Mmhmm-’

He couldn’t manage to formulate words right now, not with your hand on his twitching, leaking cock. But you understood.

You rolled your wrist again, rubbing a steady, continuous rhythm over his length through the thick fabric of his trousers, your movements slow and careful, and his back arched off the bed with a low groan.

‘Easy, baby,’ you soothed, slowing a little to get him used to the feeling before your skin met his. He looked like he might cum any second and as hot as that might be, you wanted to give him something to remember.

‘I’m gonna get these trousers unfastened, alright?’

Another quick nod from Lars, and another hum.

You made mindful work of freeing his straining cock from the confines of his trousers, opening them up just enough to slip your hand inside his underwear, not wanting to overwhelm him with nudity on top of everything else. There would be plenty of time for that later.

He smiled when you settled beside him, but as your warm fingers slipped past the elastic of his underwear and wrapped loosely around his cock, he cried out a high pitched, ‘Ahh!’ and began rutting his hips up to meet the gentle massaging of your fist.

‘Does that feel good?’ you whispered, watching his face contort in bliss.

‘Y-yes,’ he managed, ‘f-feels… so… ohhh- mmmh-’

‘You’re doing so well for me,’ you praised, swiping your thumb over his already oozing tip to collect a satisfyingly thick pearl of precum and smear it down his length.

‘N-never- I’ve never- oh!-’

His head flew back into the pillow, fists grabbing desperately at the duvet beneath him.

He’s trying not to cum, you thought with a smirk.

‘I- I’ve never- ohhh-’ he tried again, struggling against the crashing waves of pleasure overpowering his ability to think clearly enough to finish a sentence.

‘It’s alright,’ you soothed, ‘I know. I’ve got you.’

You watched Lars closely as you worked your hand carefully, memorising every flicker of pleasure over his soft features, every needy little sound that escaped his parted lips, every desperate little thrust of his hips. His hair had fallen over his forehead in loose, messy strands, and his eyes had turned delightfully dark in the shadow of it.

You could feel him tensing, each muscle in his body rapidly switching from relaxed to taut to relaxed again; his release was close. You pumped faster, almost frantically, to get him there, and his hand flew to your wrist.

‘Mmh… I’m- ohh! Oh, no, please, I’m gonna… s-stop… stop, please, before I-’

‘Cum for me, Lars,’ you encouraged, making him shudder as you slowed again to the gentle pace that seemed to drive him crazy.

He was so deliciously sensitive, responding just how you’d hoped to the sensual rhythm of long, slow strokes.

A strangled cry tore from his throat as he rolled his hips in time with your ministrations. ‘No, n-no, I can’t, I-’

‘It’s alright, you’re safe, I’ve got you,’ you reminded him. ‘Cum.’

‘N-no- I- I shouldn’t, I- stop! Oh!- ah!- ohh-ughhhh-nnmmmh!’

The strong fingers wrapped around your wrist squeezed tighter, burning your skin in their searing grip, but you managed to keep up the rhythm of your fist until he couldn’t fight his climax any longer and you finally brought him off, pumping just a little harder as his orgasm ripped through his body.

Lars’s hands flew to his face, covering his pleasure-pained expression as he thrashed against the bed, spilling and spilling his release up out of his underwear, staining the hem of his sweater and coating your hand.

His chest heaved with loud, ragged breaths as he came down from his high, trembling as his cock softened and twitched with aftershocks.

‘I’m sorry,’ he whined under his breath the moment you pulled your hand out of his underwear, ‘I’m so sorry!’

You gently guided his hands down from his tear-stained face and wiped his eyes with tender fingertips.

You saw his lip tremble, so you leant in to press your own lips to his again.

‘Lars,’ you breathed as you pulled away, ‘you did so good for me, baby.’

His eyes, big and round and wet, stared into yours semi-hopefully. ‘I… I did?’

‘You did. And I think you needed that, didn’t you?’

His cheeks flushed somehow redder, and he averted his gaze, nodding. ‘I’ve never… never been… touched like that before. I was worried you wouldn’t want me to… y’know, so I felt kind of nervous letting go. I'm sorry about the mess.’

‘Are you kidding? I wanted to make you cum the moment I laid eyes on you.’

Lars squeezed his eyes shut, unable to believe what you were saying and mildly embarrassed by your bluntness. You really thought of him that way the whole time?

‘Listen to me. You never, ever, need to apologise for enjoying pleasure, alright?’

His eyebrows raised as he gazed across at you, awe-filled eyes still glossy. ‘Really?’

‘Really.’

He sucked his bottom lip between his teeth before he spoke again. ‘So, uhm…’ he cleared his throat, ‘if I wanted to make you feel like that…?’

‘You can. And you will. When you’re ready.’

Lars nodded, brow furrowing as he fell into deep thought.

‘It’s alright. When the time comes, I’ll guide you, ok?’

Lars’s concern softened into a smile. The Lars you were used to.

‘Ok,’ he agreed.

You propped yourself up on an elbow to assess the gorgeous mess he’d made, core clenching at the dishevelled state of him, laid out with his legs spread, trousers unfastened, underwear damp with his seed, sweater stained, hair mussed, face hot. You needed to remember him in this moment. He was beautiful.

‘Now, how about a bath?’

‘W-will you join me?’ Lars muttered, feeling bold but still unsure, fighting the sleepiness that had begun to pull at his eyes with all the strength he had.

The grin that spread across your face was answer enough, but you nodded anyway, and he briefly buried his face into your chest, giggling sweetly, unable to believe his luck.

#not s f w 💀#lars lindstrom #lars lindstrom x reader #lars lindstrom smut #lars lindstrom x you #lars lindstrom x y/n #lars and the real girl #lars lindstrom fic #lars and the real girl fic #ryan gosling smut #ryan gosling fic #ryan gosling #ryan gosling x reader #ryan gosling x you #ryan gosling x y/n #ken dom writes

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keigh0e · 1 year

Text

Friendzone ♥ Bakugo Katsuki

Prompt: It wasn’t just a one off for me; it was me hoping you’d see the connection

Word Count: 3.6k

Triggers: No spice, just fluff, some explosive behavior and naughty words

Author Note: Hi guys! This is my first ever post on this blog, I’d really appreciate some feedback. I’d also love it if you sent me some requests, check out this pinned post to see what anime’s I write for and find a very big prompt list

This is an unedited piece so apologies for any spelling/grammar mistakes

Being Bakugo’s longest friend comes with its own perks, at least in your eyes.

You and Bakugo had existed together for as long as you can remember, your mother was best friends with his and they’d ended up getting pregnant around the same time which meant you went through school together. You followed one another to UA as well, and there was no doubt you’d start a Hero agency together, or at least share the same building… Maybe just the same street, depending on how overbearing Bakugo is with you.

You and him were petals flying in the same gust of wind, there was no questioning it, you were simply together.

That didn’t mean you avoided his wrath, you probably got it more than anyone actually, that was only because he knew you could handle it and even match against him.

But you also got all of his softness, it wasn’t as loud as his rage and it made itself apparent in ways most people missed, but not you, you were Bakugo’s best friend, your soul attuned to his.

His quiet softness appeared when he always rushed ahead of you to open a door for you, and when he’d stop mid sentence and kneel down to take care of your undone shoelace, or when he’d always step closer to you and wrap his arm around your shoulders because a stranger had gotten too close to you (or Mineta, but Bakugo normally kicked the little perv away before he got the chance to get too close to you).

There was only one time his softness became loud and that was at night.

You’d taken the UA move into the dorms as bravely as you could, but after a week you were homesick. The longest you’d ever stayed away from your parents was when you had a sleepover at Bakugo’s, that was usually only for one or two nights, plus, it was only a trip down the road.

You struggled with falling asleep and it didn’t take long for Bakugo to notice the change in you. The same day he finally clocked on to the bags under your eyes and the invisible weight slumping your shoulders, he snuck into your room that night.

As he got into your bed you asked what he was doing and he respectfully told you to ‘shut your face’. The next thing you knew, he’d wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you onto his chest, then his hand was running through your hair and sleep came so easily it swept you as easily as he had swept you into his arms. He hadn’t cured your homesickness, he’d done something much better than that, he’d given you a new place to call home.

That was also the night when the lines between friendship and something more started to get blurry. He was still your best friend, still protective and caring, still a pain in the arse. But suddenly, his hand always found its way into yours, his arm always around your shoulder even when no one else was around. And every single night, without fail, he came to your dorm room and snuggled up with you, petting your head before falling asleep.

You did try speaking to him about it once, but it didn’t go very well.

A month had gone by of him sleeping in your dorm room. Once it got to the weekend, you and Bakugo went for your routine coffee which you treated yourselves to every Saturday as a ‘well done’ for making it through another week of high school and surviving all the villian attacks.

You got a caramel latte while he went for a black coffee, after getting your drinks Bakugo walked you over to a table with his hand on your back and pulled out your chair before sitting down.

“So,” you began, and then you stumbled on what to say so you just blew on your latte to cool it down.

It had never been like this with Bakugo before, so stilted and awkward. He seemed to be noticing the tension as well as he stared down at you with a raised brow. “So?”

“So…” You tried to start again, tried to push through your awkwardness. “Are sleepovers a regular thing now?”

His whole body tensed, but that was the only sigh he gave that your question had affected him. “Yeah, that a problem?”

Yes, you wanted to say.

Yes, it was a big problem, because even after a month you got excited whenever it got to night time and your heart fluttered every single time he wrapped you up in his arms and pulled you so tightly against his body, as if to say ‘you are mine, and you’re not going anywhere’. You were 90% sure those weren’t feelings friends were meant to have for one another.

But, at the same time, the thought of losing that, losing him, was too painful.

You shook your head. “No, not a problem.”

“Then stop acting weird, you’re freaking me out,” he snapped, no real bite to his words. There never was.

That was that. You and Bakugo were still best friends, still hung out, still argued and every night, no matter what kind of day you’d had, you cuddled up together and fell asleep.

It became the new norm, as did living with your brewing emotions.

Until you and the gang had all decided to play a game together one night.

You and Bakugo could have only lasted so long, one of you would have broken eventually, you were just surprised at who broke first.

♥♥♥

You laughed along with Kirishima as Denki did his best opera impression, the noise filling up every crevice in the room and making you cringe to the point your teeth were grinding together.

On your other side was Bakugo, one hand covering his ear, the other resting on your bicep as his arm wrapped around your shoulder.

“Will you shut up already?!” He yelled. Whilst you’d been coping with Denki’s singing, you did have to lean away from your friends as he yelled directly in your ear. Once he finished, he sent you an apologetic look and then used the arm around your shoulder to pull you closer.

“I caaaaaan’t!” Kaminari sang with a dramatic swing of his hands, “I was daared too serenade the ever-so-lovely Jiroooooooooouuuuuu.”

“She also wants you to shut up, moron,” Jirou hissed. Her words made it out like she was angry, but the blush on her cheeks and the fact she couldn’t look Kaminari in the eyes made you think she was feeling something else other than anger. Though, you may have just been projecting.

“Fine,” Kaminari huffed, arms flopping down at his side as he finished his performance. He gave you and your friends the gift of perfectly serene silence, for all of three seconds before he straightened up and pointed a finger directly at Bakugo. “As it’s now my turn, I choose you, Bakugo, to be my next victim.”

The hothead smirked, and you hated the way your stomach flipped at the sight of it. “I’m no one's victim, do your worst Sparky.”

The night had escalated after Mina had proposed a game of ‘truth or dare’, but you had an awful feeling stirring in your stomach when you saw the devious glint in Kaminari’s eye. You knew whatever Bakugo got given, he had too much pride to bow out.

“Truth or dare,” Kaminari asked.

“Stupid question, dare,” Bakugo replied.

“I dare you to kiss Y/N.”

You were the first to move, before Kaminari had even finished his sentence, you were up on your feet, putting space between you and Bakugo. “No, no, no,” you laughed, noticing it sounded more strained than joyful. “Absolutely not.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to?” Mina asks, her tone teasing. You’d been asked a million and one times if there was something more between you and Bakugo by your fellow students. It looks like no matter how many times you say no, they just don’t believe you.

“Yes, I’m absolutely sure,” you gruffed, doing your best Bakugo impression as you scowled over at Mina.

You take another step back as Bakugo stands up turning to face you, that usual frown playing on his lips and a surprising amount of determination in his eyes.

You’d seen that look before. The day he decided you were both becoming heroes, the day you decided to go to UA. That look only ever appeared whenever he decided something monumental and life changing. Normally you were filled with excitement when you saw that look in his eyes. Not on that night.

“What are you doing?” You asked whilst taking another step back. It became a new game for you and Bakugo, he took a step forward and you took a step back. Unfortunately, the wall behind you was closer than you realised and the next thing you knew, Bakugo was standing right there, centimeters from your face.

You’ve stood that close before, plenty of times, but never before had you been so aware of his body, of the heat emanating from him. When you looked into his eyes, you saw them solely focused on your lips.

He wanted to kiss you, wanted to break that line between friends and something more.

Is that what you wanted? You weren’t sure and Bakugo wasn’t giving you much choice as he grabbed your face and pulled your lips towards his, the momentum slamming the two of you together.

It started rash and rough, which wasn’t all that much of a surprise as this was Bakugo you were kissing. But then it hit you, the most achingly beautiful thing about every moment you’ve spent with Bakugo, his quiet softness.

The way he moved his lips against yours, guiding you rather than demanding you. It had you melting against him, your hands searching out his chest to relax on, your body leaning on his for support.

His own hands had fallen to your neck, his palm resting on your pulse point while his thumb stroked encouragingly against your jaw, gently moving the angle of your face so that he could explore your mouth further.

You would have given up a lot in that moment if it meant you could stay there in that embrace. Screw the line, it was boring. This, Bakugo’s lips, were exciting and awe-inspiring. He was everything, he was your everything.

“Alright kids, time for bed,” Aizawa appeared out of nowhere, or at least you hoped he had. If he’d watched you fall apart in Bakugo’s arms the way you just did, you weren’t sure how you’d face him in your next class.

You were meant to be a superhero, a badass, but when Bakugo pulled away from you, your lips tried to follow him and a whimper escaped before you could stop it.

You watched him take in your expression, you weren’t in control of it, too taken by how good it had felt to kiss your est friend and how shocked you were by how much you wanted to do it again. At best, you imagined there was a hazy and dim look in your eyes.

That determined look was still fiery in his eyes as he straightened you up so you weren’t leaning completely on his body. Then with a slight nod of his head and one more glance into your eyes, he said the very last thing you expected: “Talk to you tomorrow.”

You blinked at his retreating figure, so many questions floating through your mind as you watched him meander his way to the boys dorm rooms.

‘Talk to you tomorrow’? What did that mean? Surely it didn’t mean he wasn’t going to come to your room later? Right?

♥♥♥

That bastard wasn’t coming to your room. It would be the first night in months that you didn’t have him, and he’d decided it needed to be after he kissed you. He got you hooked and then took away your addiction.

Well screw him. He didn’t get to just do that, not to you.

There was a reason you were best friends for that long, because you could be just as explosive as him when you wanted to be.

The fact that you needed to sneak to his room ruined your ire a little bit, especially when you had to gently tap on his door when what you really wanted to do was knock the damn thing off of its hinges.

A few moments later a tired looking Bakugo appeared. It was well after ten O’clock at night so it didn’t surprise you to see a sleepy expression on your best friend, he was very strict about his sleeping routine and the conditions that he needed when sleeping. You didn’t mind most of the time because it just helped you fall asleep as well.

One rule you’d both always followed was to never go to sleep angry with one another, it stopped you from being able to fall asleep quickly, the anxious thoughts keeping you awake, and Bakugo obviously wouldn’t stand for that when his beauty sleep was much more important..

“What are you doing here Y/N?”

Not bothering to respond, you pushed past Bakugo, earning no resistance from your best friend who often let you have your way. Up until your kiss, you hadn’t though much about why.

“It’s bed time.” You simply answered, shuffling onto Bakugo’s bed and settling yourself on the side furthest from the door. That was Bakugo’s rule, not yours. He wanted to be close to the door in case someone tried to break in and he needed to protect you, when he’d confessed that to you, you’d just rolled your eyes at him.

He continued eyeing you as you moved the comforter over your knees, you met his stare head on, refusing to back down. “Exactly, both of us should be asleep, not knocking on my door.”

“Well I wouldn’t have to knock on your door if you’d come to my room, you know, like every other night,” you sassed back.

He averted his eyes from yours, something had flashed in them though before he’d turned away. Was it hurt? Or shame? “Well I guess things have changed now.”

“And that’s my fault?” It certainly felt like it was. You were the one losing your best friend, even though he’d been the one who’d kissed you. It was unfair, you’d been safely balancing on the line for years, not reacting at all to the way he’d make you feel sometimes. But now he was messing it all up!

He scoffed again at your words, just fuelling your rage. “Did I say it was?!”

“You kissed me Bakugo, then you just walked away and told me you’d speak to me tomorrow? I’ve been your best friend since the day I was born, I deserve better than that.” You were getting so passionate you’d started speaking with your hands, throwing your arms out and slamming your hands against your chest.

Your former best friend (at least for now) took several moments to take in your words, then he started walking over and you prepared yourself to get manhandled. Instead, he flumped down on his side of the bed, still not looking at you. “You’re right.”

“No, you shut up! Wait, what? I’m right?” He said you were right? Those were rare words form your best friend, you’d totally been prepared to have a screaming match with him, thats how your arguments usually went. You weren’t sure if this was some new tactic to try win arguments with you, so you chose to stick with being defensive. “Yeah, I am right! Glad we’re in agreement.”

Finally he looked at you. “Will you quieten down? Someone will hear you’re in here.” Those his words were aggressive, there was nothing on his expression that showed he was angry with you. He looked upset more than anything else. For some people it might have been hard to tell the difference, but you read his every feature like it was your favourite book.

So he wasn’t angry with you. Anger would make more sense than that upset expression on his face. You couldn’t figure out a reason for why he’d be upset, unless the kiss had been that bad? No, you realised, if it was bad then you definitely would have known, even if Bakugo didn’t tell you, you’d have been able to read it from his body if he’d not enjoyed it.

“The fact you of all people are telling me to quiet my voice is very laughable, I hope you know that,” you commented. Your voice had gone softer, the anger being swept away like the tide.

“Funny.” He responded, in a tone that held no amusement. He seemed to take a moment to do a deep breath before he continued to speak, finally explaining himself but still not looking you in the eyes. “I thought maybe you’d want space after I kissed you, I know it’s going to change things, I know how I want things to change, but I wanted to give you time to figure out what you wanted.”

“What do you mean?” You knew what he meant. You’d been thinking the exact same thing, but the difference is you weren’t as brave as Bakugo was. You needed him to continue being brave, because you couldn’t just step over that line, you needed his guidance. No, you needed reassurance that he’d be stepping over that line with you.

Maybe he knew that’s why you asked, maybe he heard it hidden behind your nervousness, despite you not saying it. He finally looked up and he even reached out, grabbing your hand in his. “It wasn’t just a one off for me; it was me hoping you’d see the connection.”

You looked from his hand in yours to his eyes, he was analysing you just as much as he was analysing you. “So you want to be like, boyfriend and girlfriend?”

“Yeah,” he agreed, and it was almost laughable at how nice he was being to you in that moment. Of course, as soon as you thought that he had to go ruin it. “I mean, we pretty much are already, you’re always hanging off my arm and cuddling up to me at night, only difference is we’d be kissing, and you weren’t that bad.”

The thing is, you liked his backhanded comments, because you knew they were always just compliments disguised. He wasn’t loud with his kindness, and that worked well for you. He was loud with everything else, and nine out of ten times, it amused you.

So even then, as he tried to blame you for all the cuddling you’d been doing together even though he’d been the one who started every interaction, you were completely and utterly charmed. Whilst you may have said ‘so you want to be like, boyfriend and girlfriend?’ He had heard ‘I’m scared you’re not thinking this through and we might be risking our friendship’. And whilst he’s said a load of hot air, you heard ‘you’re who I choose, you’re worth every risk’.

“Uh huh,” you hummed in response. “Ask me.”

He blinked over at you. “What?”

A prideful look that matched Bakugo’s filled your expression as your stature straightened slightly. “You want to date me, then you need to ask me to be your girlfriend.”

“You’re a real pain in my arse, Y/N,” he groaned, letting go of your hand and flopping down on his bed beside you.

“Back at you.” You got comfortable beside him, snuggling under the blanket and turning to face him.

He was looking up at the ceiling. “Be my girlfriend.”

You frowned at that. Did he really think you’d agree so easily? Had he forgotten who his best friend is. “You gonna say please?”

Turning around, his arm automatically fell onto your waist. “You want to be my girlfriend, I don’t need to say please.”

“It’s polite Bakugo.” You admonished.

“After all these years we’ve been friends, you still don’t know I don’t care about manners, they’re just a waste of time.”

“Guess being your girlfriend would be a waste of my time then,” you tutted.

“Whatever. I’m done with this shit, I’m going to bed.”

“Fine.” Your words were terse but you didn’t budge an inch, comfortable in his hold.

“Fine!” He yelled, showing just how much you’d riled him up. You’d lying if you said it didn’t make you smile.

“Will you stop yelling? They might figure out I’m in here,” you hissed, mirroring his earlier words because you apparently weren’t done with pissing off your best friend.

His arm raised from around your waist to your shoulders, until he was shoving your face into your chest. “Shut up,” he hissed, smothering you. You slapped your hand against his chest three times before he relaxed.

Neither of you said anything, just fermenting in your annoyance towards one another for a little while before it faded. Anytime you argued with Bakugo, it would always fade, the feelings of anger or disdain taking off their mask and revealing themselves as something else, normally frustration.

Because you loved him, a lot, and you hated fighting with him. It was a difficult thing to avoid when you were both so spirited sometimes, but it didn’t matter, because that love you had for him was stronger than anything else.

It seemed Bakugo agreed with you as his hand lowered back down to your waist, crawling under your vest. He didn’t need his powers, just his touch had you feeling like tiny explosions were going off wherever his hand moved. He gripped you on the curve of your hip bone, his entire body stiffening.

“Y/N,” he started, his voice low, giving it a rough tone that had you trembling in the most wonderful way. “Will you please be my girlfriend?”

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peachyloveswriting · 1 year

Note

I am sorry... But Knives with a reader who also can play piano! I just imagine them playing together how he used to play with Vash... This idea lives rent free in my head now.

Btw! I LOVE YOUR WRITING!!! 💓💓💓💓💓

Ugh! I got a really good idea with this one out of my own hopeless romantic self. This was very self indulgent but I hope that it's to your liking.

Needing Love --- Millions Knives

SUMMARY: You find yourself longing for the touch of another, someone to take your lonely soul and bring you the comfort of being loved. Knives brings you this offer.

Late into the night, you find yourself waking from your bed unrestful, your heart aching. You're not sure why or what caused this ache to start spreading inside your chest but it calls to you. Pulling the blanket from your body you wrap it around your shoulders, tying it back like a cape. They're stark white, Naï seems to favor this color in anything, it suits him.

Swinging your legs over the bed you raise to your feet, the cold floor makes you shudder, it's utterly silent. Everyone would be home by now, asleep, or in Naï's case busy with something else. Hopefully he won't hear you meddling with his piano, that's your goal. You've played since a young age, it's a passion that you cling to dearly in this new life of yours. Naï has a passion for it as well, he plays in your company often, composing beautiful pieces that tug at your emotions. This time you stride towards the bench, blanket swaying behind you like an elegant cape. Splaying it over the back, you settle down and pull up the key cover.

Tonight, a saddening tune pulls at your hands, it raises your fingers to the keys and burns in your chest. Swallowing thickly, you press down the first keys. They bellow out into the spacious room, daring to be heard by those who stay near, crying to be noticed. It's slow starting, your hands almost scared to truly portray the ache in your heart and the longing in your soul. A longing that begs to be held by another, one that cries to feel the arms of another cradling you, to be loved whole. It carries out the keys, fading the room around you from existence as you play. It's nothing but you and your aching music.

Naï hears the first key strike, he falls quiet, waiting to hear the noise again. What follows is clearly from his piano. It's solemn and sad, the keys as the belt into the open air and through the walls. Curious to find his phantom player, he pushes open the door of the lab and makes his way to the piano room. The keys are much louder from here and just across the way he can see his open bedroom door, you must have ventured out not too long ago.

Grabbing the handle he pushes open the door and steps in unheard, he can see you sitting at the piano, the blanket from his bed draped over your shoulders and over the beck of the bench. Your hands are dancing along the keys, moving elegantly and seamlessly. From the songs he learned and the ones he's made, this is clearly not either. It's the first time he's ever heard something as soul wretching as this. Despite such a sad song, a smile creeps onto his face, Naï feels proud knowing he picked a human who could play Piano. He never knew you could until now but it makes his heart sing.

Stepping forward into the room silently, he gently places a hand upon your shoulder, you jump under the sudden touch. The keys abruptly stop before the carry on through Naï's hands. Your heart pounds in your chest as you watch him play with a fond look in his eyes, you expected him to rip you away, yell at you. Instead he calmly took a seat by your side and carried on where you left off. You watch him, frozen in awe, it was impressive that he could play what you made on the spot by ear. He elbowed you, his eyes gesturing to the piano, like he was asking you to keep playing. Heat fills your cheeks as you cast your gaze back on the piano, placing your hands delicately and begin to play.

Naï plays your former piece on the lower notes while you tie together a higher set of notes that recalls the pain of hopeless romanticism. The melody dances along your skin, seeping its way into your heart before Naï's hands begin crossing yours to press keys. He doesn't disrupt the flow, he simply moves around you and back before getting in the way.

The warmth by your side melts away the aching sadness that had built up in your chest, a faint smile tugs at your lips and the song takes a turn. The warmth begins to play into the keys, your show on likeness for Naï really pushing the idea of hopeless romanticism out the way. Even though you know he'll never hold you the you hope, or do the things you want to do as a couple, you know that he cares.

When the song came to an end you weren't quite sure what to say for yourself but Naï beat you to it. "That was beautiful, I had no idea you could play." His hand finds yours, gently intertwining your fingers. "Why so sad at the start?" His brows knit tightly together with worry and he leans forward to get a better look at your face. This was certainly a side of Naï that you've yet to see.

You lower your haze to his hand in yours. "I was sad and I couldn't sleep." With his other hand, he presses a finger underneath your chin to lift your head. "Why were you sad?"

He never seemed to care before, this was definitely a start. "Can I be honest?" You finally look him in the eyes, he nods. You find yourself at a loss for words, only a moment ago your feelings were splayed out for anyone close by to hear, portrayed perfectly. Now you don't know where to begin.

"I just... Feel like I'm not getting the love that I need. You know. At night I think about the ways I wish I was held, the things I want to hear, and the way I want to be loved and I know that it's just not possible. No one can cater to all your needs, no, but I just want to feel love. I'd feel selfish asking anyone for that but I want it so bad." The ache in your chest begins to rise and you can feel the neglect settling in again, you hate this feeling, the longing for a warmth you've yet to receive.

Naï suddenly stands from the bench and tugs you with him, he towers over you in height, his bright blue eyes captivating you instantly. If angels were real he'll fit the description, from the fair skin to the bright blonde hair. Even down to the way his hand slides against the small of your back, pressing your body flush against his. He's unrealistically warm against you, an extra factor to his nonhuman traits.

His voice is low and soft. "Is this how you wanted to be held?"

Your heart flutters and your face flushes. He's staring at you so intently as he waits for an answer, you're almost unable to open your mouth and form an appropriate response.

"Yes. It is." The corners of his lips twitch up into an endearing smile. "Good. I intend to show you that as a plant, romantically, I can do so much more for you than any human." His words are genuine, as he takes your hand in his again, leading you from the piano room and back to his room. "Allow me to fulfill what you've been craving, you'll find that I satisfy your every need my flower."

#knives millions #millions knives x you #millions knives x reader #knives x reader #trigun stampede #trigun x reader #trigun stampede x reader

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avenging-fandoms · 1 year

Note

COWBOY HAT RULE WITH WHISKEY

**smut for us nasty whiskey freaks** **and yes i will be making him tie the reader up with his lasso

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

Whiskey walked through the door of your New York home, a smile on his face as he sees you laying on your stomach on the couch, in his favorite silk pajamas you own.

"Well, good evening, sweetheart" You turn around and jump off the couch, heading over to your husband, holding his jacket as you kiss him softly. "Sweeter than honey"

"Hmm. How was your day, Jack?" You take his hat off his head and look up at him and place it on your head, Whiskey smirking.

"Oh it's about to get a whole lot better" His fingers played with the button at the bottom of the shirt. "You just put my hat on your head"

"Yes? Do I look sexy?" You wiggle your eyebrow playfully, and his hand smooths from your hip to your back, pulling you in closely with a soft gasp escaping your mouth, his lips close to yours.

"You'll look sexy riding me in that hat" He smirked and your eyes widened, Whiskey slowly walking you backwards towards the couch again. "The rule is, if you take a cowboy hat off and wear it, you have to ride the cowboy"

Whiskey took his lasso out from behind him, extracting it and tying your wrists behind your back. Whiskey unbuckled his belt and undid his pants slowly, and you wished it was your hands moving way faster.

He sat down on the couch and there you stood. Fully clothed, getting more wet by the second as he watched him touch himself. "Goddamn, Jack, help me!"

Whiskey smiled and pulled your shorts down, helping you sit on his thighs. You lean down and kiss him, his tongue swiping against your teeth as his fingers work on unbuttoning your shirt. His hands held your breasts in his hands, whimpers softly coming from your mouth.

Jack's hand grabs his dick and positions it against you, holding your hip and pushing you down. "There you go, now ride the cowboy, sugar"

You move your hips slowly, his hat tipping forward a bit as you started to move faster. A groan came from Whiskey's mouth as his thumb rubbed your thighs, drinking you in. He fixed the hat and grabbed your face, smiling at you.

Whiskey undid the lasso and dropped it to the floor, your hands immediately touching his chest and undoing his buttons, scratching down his chest as he started to move his own hips.

You held onto his shoulder with the other hand holding the hat, moaning Jack's name. "My name never sounded sexier" Whiskey's thumb rubbed your clit and you moan, holding his face and he held your ass, slapping you down against him.

"Jack.. fuck.. Jack!" you bite his neck and he groans loudly in your ear as you both came. Your lips kissing his sloppily, softly, taking a breath after each peck.

"You are the most beautiful woman to ever exist” have ever exists, sugar" You shiver as his accent peeks through in the nickname. You stand up slowly and tip the hat, putting it back on his head and heading to the bathroom, Jack's eyes following you with a sparkle in them.

#jack daniels #jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #pedro pascal #kingsman the golden circle

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navybrat817 · 2 years

Text

Permanent

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader, Steve Rogers x Female Reader, Bucky Barnes x Female Reader x Steve Rogers Summary: Bucky and Steve brand their best girl. Word Count: Over 6.6k Warnings: Explicit sexual content, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), spitroasting, threesome, dirty talk, tension, 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 tattoo AU! Have you missed them? I know I have! Beta read by the wonderful @whisperlullaby but any and all mistakes are my own. Thank you, lovely! Banner created by yours truly, but Bucky and Steve photos were provided by the talented @nix-akimbo ! This AU wouldn’t exist without them. Divider by the beautiful @firefly-graphics and banners by the lovely @vase-of-lilies. And thanks to @lookiamtrying and @drabblewithfrannybarnes for our new reader nickname.

Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Please comment and reblog as it means the world!

It was a beautiful day as you sat between Bucky and Steve in Thor’s truck, gazing through the windshield as the three of you drove through town. The boys had just finished setting up your new dining room table and Thor was kind enough to let them use his truck to pick it up and deliver it from the store. Ever since you moved into their place, they had done everything in their power to make the place more like your own. That included upgrading some of the furniture, which you tried to talk them out of in the beginning. You didn’t want them turning their home upside down for you. They, of course, argued that it was your home now, too.

Not to mention, one of them usually dropped their knees and buried their face between your legs if you protested too much. They didn’t play fair. And you never expected them to. Your beautiful, tattooed bastards.

You looked between them and took a moment to appreciate the view. Bucky smirked at you as he caught your eye. He was growing his hair out a bit and you were half tempted to tug on it. You turned your attention to Steve, who smiled softly as he looked away from the road for just a moment. You wished you could feel his beard scrape along your skin.

I'll never get enough of them.

“How did you manage to get Thor’s truck again?” You asked as Steve turned onto the main street. “I thought this was his baby. Or is that his recliner in the basement?”

“His recliner is his other baby. And we may have promised you’d cook him dinner,” Bucky answered, rubbing small circles on your thigh as you gasped.

“You did what? Do you know how much he eats?” You teased as the brunette laughed.

“We did not. Thor was just being nice,” Steve smiled. The boys refused to let anyone else deliver the furniture since they were in good enough shape to move things themselves. “He’s also probably trying to win more brownie points with Mrs. Monroe by looking generous.”

“I think he has plenty, especially since he helped us move my stuff,” you grinned. Mrs. Monroe was sad to see you leave your old place and you were as well. She was a great neighbor and one of the many to be on your side when Grant and Billy harassed you. You also knew she had a soft spot for Thor and hoped that her granddaughter would end up with him. “I might make him dinner though so I can remain his favorite, until he gets a girlfriend."

“You think you’re his favorite?” Steve laughed a little.

“Yes,” you and Bucky said at the same time.

More laughter filled the truck, the sound almost as bright as the weather. "He does have a soft spot for you," Steve agreed.

"Even Loki likes you, but don't tell him we said that," Bucky winked.

Heat flooded your cheeks. Being part of their group sometimes felt like an out of body experience. Most people around town looked at you differently now, but in a good way. Dating two of the most prominent tattoo artists around changed everything for the better. You wore confidence like a second skin. It looked good on you.

"Thor should be stopping by the shop later today. He wants to see the finished product," Steve told you.

Your wrists tingled as he mentioned the shop. Today was the day you were finally getting your tattoos. One from each of them, designed by them, just for you. It was a way to show you were theirs. Maybe one day, down the road, I’ll get a ring. And only if they want that.

“You nervous about today?” Bucky questioned, all traces of teasing gone. Both kept asking if you really wanted to go through with getting your tattoos and would’ve understood if you wanted to back out. They seemed nervous leading up to today, too, making sure you wanted to stick to the appointment.

Do they think I’ll back out?

“Nope, not nervous,” you put your hand over his, your other reaching for Steve’s as he glanced at you. He looked slightly relieved. “Why would I be?”

“Because what we’re giving you is permanent,” Steve replied.

For some reason, it felt like he wasn’t talking about tattoos. “Yeah, they are and I want them. You can’t change my mind,” you told them, squeezing their hands. Bucky slowly breathed out. Was he expecting me to change my mind? “And if they’re anything like any of your tattoos, I know I’m in for a treat.”

The boys were littered in gorgeous tattoos. You loved them all because every single one of them had a story or significance behind them. They shared similar tattoos, like the rose each of them had for strength and courage. They each had a variation of the Brooklyn Bridge so they would never forget where they came from. And, of course, the symbol for their time in the military, honoring the unit they bonded with. Those were just a few.

"Steve designed something beautiful," Bucky said proudly.

"So did you, Buck," Steve stated just as proudly.

It warmed your heart how much they lifted each other up. "Did either one of you happen to design an animal?" you asked curiously. Bucky had a white wolf to symbolize resilience and survival, a reminder of adjusting to life with his metal arm. Steve had an eagle for strength and courage, always standing up for the people around him.

"Thought you wanted the designs to be a secret," Bucky said as the truck came to a stop.

"I do and I know that they'll be perfect. I'm just," you tried to find the right word. It wasn’t nerves. You wouldn’t lie to them about that. "Antsy? Yeah, I’m a little antsy."

"What can we do to help?" Steve asked, unbuckling his seatbelt.

"Tell us," Bucky urged as he shifted to face you, removing his seatbelt, too. You were shocked that the three of you fit in the space with how big they were. Then again, Thor was even bigger and he managed just fine.

"Nothing. I'm fine. Really," you promised. My beautiful boyfriends, ready to jump if I asked them to. "Maybe we could go for a dip. We had so much fun last time."

You smirked as you glanced between them. Steve’s hand tightened into a fist and Bucky licked his lips. You knew they were looking back on that day in Thor's pool, how they unashamedly had you between their bodies, making you feel good and not caring that their friends were nearby to witness it. They never hid their need for you. If anything, they were proud of it.

“Thor won’t be home for awhile,” Bucky said nonchalantly, his hand sliding higher up your leg. Your thighs parted, your body instinctively in tune with theirs. “We could go for a swim.”

“Not breaking into his backyard,” Steve argued, but you heard the slight strain in his voice as his hand went to your other thigh. “We can find a way to take some of the edge off."

"Not to point out the obvious, but this isn't the best space for it," Bucky said, a disappointed look in his eyes as he looked at his best friend. "And Thor might kill us if we get stains on the seats."

You had to smile. The man was built like a god and seeing him angry wouldn't be a pretty sight. "Well…" you trailed off as you looked over your shoulder, into the empty bed of the truck. “Plenty of space back there.”

Bucky swung his head with a grin, moaning a bit. “Right here in the street, doll?”

“Technically, we wouldn’t be in the street. We’d be in the truck,” you teased, starting to close your legs. “But if you two aren’t up for that-”

Lips pressed firmly against yours before you could finish that thought, Bucky’s hand gently gripping your chin to keep you in place. “We have a blanket, Steve?”

“We do,” he answered, reaching back to grab it from behind his seat. He also kept your legs open before you could shut them further. “And we have that thin cushion Thor let us use, too.”

“Good. Wouldn’t want you to get uncomfortable. Speaking of uncomfortable,” Bucky smirked as he took your hand and placed it on his crotch. “Got me nice and hard, doll. Barely touch me and that’s what you do. Punk’s straining in his pants, too. Won’t feel better ‘til we’re inside you.”

You palmed the brunette as a rush of heat went through you, glancing over at Steve as he opened the door. The tent in his pants was evident as he got out. “And unless we want to scare the neighbors, we should hurry.”

“I don’t think ‘scare’ would be the word,” you said as Bucky pushed his door open. You wondered just how much of exhibitionists your boyfriends were at heart. The potential to get caught did make it fun and they weren't the type to be embarrassed about it if you were. At most, Steve would give whoever found them a sheepish smile. And both would easily charm their way out of it if someone got upset.

Bucky helped you out, your head spinning a bit as he pulled you to the back of the truck. Steve was already in the bed, making sure the cushion was situated. Bucky hopped in beside him, not making a sound as he unfolded the blanket. How do they move so quickly and quietly?

Both held out a hand to help you in and you relished in how dark their gazes were as they pulled you in. You hardly had a chance to crawl on the cushion before Steve kissed you, the hidden hunger surfacing as Bucky moved behind you. Fuck, we’re really doing this here. Why did I suggest this? Why didn’t I suggest this sooner?

“Gonna look so pretty with our ink on you,” the blonde said, kissing along your jaw.

“Almost as pretty as you look when you come on our cocks. That what you need, doll? To get our dicks nice and wet before we leave a mark on you?” the brunette added, his large hands roaming your trembling body.

“Yes, fuck. Please,” you moaned.

“We need it, too,” Bucky’s mouth against your neck only turned you on more, the need to be ruined consuming you.

Your hands quickly covered Steve's when he gripped your skirt, pulling you out of your dizzying state for a moment. "Don't you DARE destroy this skirt. It's one of my favorites."

"We'll buy you a new one," Bucky swore, toying with the fabric from behind you.

"You will not because you are not ruining this one," your tone not giving them a chance to say otherwise. I’m running out of clothes, but I could have worse problems.

"Okay," Steve agreed easily, pushing your skirt up. "Won't destroy this one."

You were about to thank him when he smirked over your shoulder and exchanged a look with Bucky. His metal hand brushed along your covered mound before he gripped the thin material and ripped it away. "Bucky!"

"You said not to destroy your skirt. Not your underwear, which is soaked. Always so wet and ready for us."

Add that to the list of ruined clothes. Why do I bother with underwear?

“But we don’t want you too sore,” Steve said, running a finger along your slit. “So only one cock is filling our sweet pussy.”

You whined because you wanted both of them inside you. “Steve-”

“You can take both our cocks tonight at home. We'll take it slow, doll. Get you nice and stretched out for us," Bucky promised, his voice dripping with desire as Steve slipped a finger in. "Make you beg just a little 'cause it's so fucking pretty when you beg."

You clenched around the digit, trying in vain to feel him deeper. “I should make you both beg for me.”

“We’ll both get down on our knees and beg to have you forever if we have to,” Bucky whispered, unexpected tenderness in his voice given the heated situation.

“Forever,” Steve echoed, his gaze soft as he touched your cheek with his free hand. You almost questioned if something was up when he removed his finger, making you whine. The two of them exchanged a look again before you were manhandled, put on your hands and knees. You scrambled for a moment, practically tearing at Steve’s pants to get his cock out.

“Desperate for us?” he smirked, helping you unbutton his jeans to push them down.

“No more than usual,” you grinned. If they don’t have any shame, why should I?

"Ready for us, doll?" Bucky asked, hearing him shift slightly, likely discarding his pants. "Bet you'll be nice and calm with our come in your greedy holes."

You looked over your shoulder, tightening around nothing as he stroked himself. "You know I will be. So either fuck me or I'll do it myself," you threatened impatiently.

Steve grabbed your chin, careful not to hurt you as he forced you to look at him. "As fun as that would be to watch," he smirked, teasing your lips with the tip of his cock. "Buck's right. You need us to fill you up."

Your eyes slipped shut for a blissful moment as you opened your mouth, Steve's length slowly sliding along your tongue. You wiggled your ass enticingly, your pussy empty and aching. Moaning, you felt Bucky grip a hip as he pressed the head against your wet hole, the cock in your mouth pushing deeper.

"Breathe, sweetheart," Steve gently reminded you as Bucky began to push in.

You spread your legs a bit wider, making a small sound as you inhaled through your nose. Feeling both of them in you was always satisfying, your body welcoming them home where they belonged. I love them so much. You hollowed out your cheeks as they moved in tandem, already giving you what you needed. They read you so well.

"Holy shit," Steve slid his hand to the back of your head, fucking your mouth in shallow thrusts as you sucked harder. "That's it, sweetheart."

"Pussy's gripping me like a vice, doll. What's got you so excited?" Bucky stretched over your back a bit as they both moved faster, pressure already burning in your core. "That anyone can see us? Or that they'll see that you're ours?"

You could only moan in response, clenching around them. I'm yours. All yours. Want everyone to know. More, please, please. The groans and pants they let out spurred you on, doing your best to take them in as deep as you could.

"Take it," Steve groaned as he worked his hips. "Take everything we give you."

You took every inch as they kept the steady pace, your clit throbbing as they pushed and pulled you between them. You whimpered as they brought you closer to the edge, the pleasure so hot inside you it almost burned you. Feeling Bucky's balls slap against you as he kept up the steady pace, and hearing Steve's pants as he slid across your tongue, wasn't enough. You needed them to give that final push.

"She's close. Squeezing me so fucking hard," Bucky groaned as he leaned over you, grinding deep into you as his hand moved quickly to your front. You nearly screamed around Steve as Bucky's fingers found your clit, rubbing in time with his thrusts. "Oh, that's it. Fuck, still sound so beautiful with your mouth full. Almost there."

Fuck. Don't stop, don't stop, don't stop. Please, make me come.

You managed to meet Steve's gaze as the knot inside you got closer to tightening and snapping, his blue eyes as commanding as his voice when he grunted, "Come for us."

The tension exploded, your body shuddering through your orgasm as you spasmed around Bucky's cock. The breath would've been stolen from your lungs if you weren't choking on Steve. Little whimpers left your throat as you trembled, hearing both men swear as they sped up. You wished it didn’t have to end, but you needed to feel them fill you up.

“Fuck, so fucking good,” Bucky moaned, driving into you until he buried himself to the hilt, spilling hot and thick inside you. "Fuck," he hissed as you milked him, wanting every drop he could give you.

Steve throbbed in your mouth, feeling him harden more, before he stilled and came down your throat. He said you would take everything they gave you and he was right. He gasped as he slid out, sitting back as Bucky managed to keep you from collapsing. It was perfect.

They’re so fucking perfect.

You felt Steve’s lips against yours, giving you a soft and lazy kiss, as Bucky pulled out of you. He helped you stretch out so you could rest a little, all of you smiling as you panted. You were sated, at ease and it was just what you needed.

“So,” you breathed, smiling wide. “That happened.”

“Believe it or not,” Steve smiled a bit. “We needed that, too.”

“For good luck?” you teased.

“Yeah. We’ll call it that,” Bucky said, kissing your forehead before you heard loud footsteps approaching the truck.

Oh, shit.

“What in heavens have you done?!”

You almost gave yourself whiplash as you sat up, your eyes wide as they locked with a pair of thunderous blue eyes. “Thor?”

You scrambled to make yourself presentable, but the boys made no effort to cover up.

“Shall I ask again?!”

Thor’s booming voice made you cover your mouth. To anyone else, you would’ve looked shocked. Your boys, however, knew at this point that you were trying not to laugh.

“Here’s the thing. We-”

“You defiled her in the back of my truck,” Thor cut Bucky off.

Yes. Yes, they did.

“Technically, we-” Steve tried to say calmly as he tucked himself away.

“You’ve already desecrated my pool, which I have no issue with,” Thor reminded them. We may revisit that pool. “But here? My sacred vessel?!”

You made a noise similar to a snort as your boyfriends looked at you for help. Tempted to say it was all their idea for looking so sexy. "Please, don't be mad at them. I suggested it. I was feeling antsy about my tattoos and they wanted to help," you explained, your eyes downcast when you finished. "I'm sorry."

"Oh, no, no, no," Thor said quickly, his hands raised in a surrendering gesture as you hid your smile. "I would never be upset with you."

Oh, Thor, you are so screwed if you end up dating a Monroe. She'll turn her doe eyes on you and you'll melt.

"But you two will give this a thorough cleaning," he pointed between your men. "I shall take my bike for the time being."

"Thank you for understanding," you smiled as you lifted your gaze.

"Of course. And I shall see you at the shop. Do not worry. You're in good hands," he promised. "As you are already well aware."

"You're helping us wash this," Bucky said as Thor walked toward his garage.

"Not a chance," you smirked, nearly jumping when Steve affectionately pinched your side.

"I'm already thinking of ways you can make it up to us," he said.

You are the man with a plan.

The gentle noise of the needles and conversations in the Howling Commandos shop made you smile as you waited in your chair. You never expected those sounds to become some of your favorites, but life surprised you. And thanks to the earlier activities and a hearty meal, you felt much more relaxed.

"How are you so calm?" Mandy demanded, plopping down in the chair across from you. "How?!"

You had to laugh as your shoulders lifted in a casual shrug, not mentioning the pleasant ache between your thighs. "Needles don't bother me, I want these tattoos and I trust them," you recited easily. You had no reason to be nervous, especially since you knew they'd handle you with care.

Mandy narrowed her eyes, leaning forward as she tapped a finger against the armrest. “They fucked you before they opened the shop, didn’t they?”

Might just make it a morning ritual, which it kind of is. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Where?” she asked suspiciously.

“Back of Thor’s truck.”

"Naughty girl. You know he loves his truck,” she shook her head with a grin. “And I can't believe you're letting them ink you without them telling you what they're branding you with.”

"Seriously, why do you make everything they do sound so dirty?"

"Because they are dirty. You have permanent bowleggedness or whatever it's called since they can't keep their dicks out of you," she teased, raising an eyebrow as you began to laugh. She isn't wrong. "Surprised you're not knocked up."

"Not this again," you groaned as your laughter died down, pinching the bridge of your nose. Ever since you moved in with Bucky and Steve, Mandy constantly asked when you were getting married and having babies. You expected it from everyone else, but not your best friend.

In hindsight, I should have.

"Yes, this again. Have you guys talked about it?"

"We’ve talked a bit about it,” you answered, shifting a bit in your seat. “They both want a future with me and to build a home together. I want that, too. For the time being, we're enjoying living together. Isn't that enough for you?"

"Is it enough for you? You haven't imagined wedding bells or anything like that?" Mandy asked knowingly.

You glanced at the ring finger of your left hand. "Of course, I have," you admitted. You were in love with your boyfriends and you wanted to marry them. The fact that Steve gave love another chance after a failed engagement and Bucky was willing to share his love and a partner with his best friend still made you want to pinch yourself.

I hope they know how much I appreciate them letting me in.

"I fucking knew it!" Mandy yelled loud enough to make the shop go silent.

"You knew what?" Bucky called back.

"That she's going to marry you and Steve so you can make an honest woman out of her," she smirked as you flipped her off. It didn't bother her in the slightest.

"She'd be making honest men out of us, too," Steve chimed in as Bucky chuckled.

You swung your head to where your boyfriends were sitting, each of them finishing up with a couple of regular clients. They really do make me throb just by looking at them. How is that possible? And what’s that look they just gave each other?

“It may be your pussy that brings them to their knees, but they’re on my side when it comes to your future.”

“Please, don’t encourage her,” you begged as Mandy grinned proudly. “And worry about your own pussy.”

“That’s my job,” Natasha smirked as she appeared with a glass of water, handing it to you. “And I have to agree that you have nothing to worry about. You’ll love what they came up with.”

“You’ve seen them?” you asked, taking a sip.

“No, but they discussed them a bit. Minus each other, they want you to be the first to see them.”

“And they’re really going to do her at the same time?” Mandy smirked.

The redhead smirked back at her girlfriend. “They are. Should be quite the show.”

You looked between them suspiciously. “You’re both going to watch?” you asked. You knew Thor wanted to stop by to see them, even though he had the day off, but Nat wanted to see them, too?

“It’s not every day I get to see two of my favorite boys do their favorite girl. Might even tape it.”

Everything is a sex joke with this group. Deviants. All of them. “Who said I was going to let anyone watch? How can I be the first to see them when they’re done if you’re here?”

Mandy gasped at the suggestion that you might not let her stay. “Oh, come on! You held my hand when I got mine and I won’t be able to hold yours, so you can at least let me watch. Please?”

“Of course, you can stay. I was just giving you a hard time, like you give me,” you grinned as she relaxed in her seat. It was nice that she wanted to be there. And Bucky did such a great job with her tattoo, even with how scared she had been. "You invite anyone else?"

"Not Peggy," Mandy coolly replied.

"Be nice," you urged. Peggy didn't come around or bother you. She was usually busy helping Sharon and Briana. You half expected there to be drama after everything with her, along with Grant and Billy, but things were peaceful.

"You be nice. I'll be a bitch."

“That’s enough of that,” Natasha shot Mandy a look. Both of you knew your best friend was still being protective of you. “Clint and Sam want to see. Tony may even swing by.”

“Did you invite everyone?” you asked suspiciously. It seemed a little strange. Why would they all want to see them?

“The boys are excited,” she responded. Her face gave nothing away as she patted your shoulder, so you dropped it. “Relax. They’re almost ready for you.”

I would relax more if I didn’t see Mandy wink at you. What are they up to? And why haven’t they clued me in?

True to Natasha’s word, Thor, Clint and Sam were all standing nearby chatting a few minutes later. Did they clear their schedules for this? You narrowed your eyes as you looked at your boyfriends. They whispered to each other as their clients paid and left. And for the first time today, they looked nervous.

Are they scared I’m going to hate my tattoos?

You turned your head when the bell above the door rang, your eyebrows shooting up as Tony Stark walked in moments later with a bottle in his hand. He would wear sunglasses in the shop. It somehow worked.

“Didn’t start the party without me, did you?”

“It isn’t a party, Stark,” Natasha reminded him.

“Is that right? I thought we were celebrating,” he smirked, winking over at you. “Not every day these boys are naughty in the back of Point Break’s truck.”

Thor gave you a sheepish look before you could say anything. “I wasn’t going to tell him, but he’s very persuasive.”

“And the worst person to keep a secret. It just happened this morning,” you said, expecting one of the boys to jump in and say something. They were still whispering to each other. “Everything okay?” you called out to get their attention.

The wide eyed looks they gave you almost made you laugh. Almost. “Sorry. You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you said.

“And I resent that. I can keep a secret,” Tony argued as he set the bottle down at one of the stations. “No drinks until you’re done.”

You got a look at the label as he walked away. It was very expensive. “All that for a couple of tattoos?”

“Let’s get started,” Steve said as Tony opened his mouth, cutting him off.

The antsy feeling began to creep in as Natasha whispered something in Clint’s ear, bringing a devilish grin to his face. Sam appeared to be casual, but there was an excited glint in his eyes. Thor looked like he couldn’t stand still and Mandy…

“Are you crying?” you asked her. She has tears in her eyes. Actual tears.

“Nope. Not crying,” she swore, blinking rapidly as Nat held out her hand for her to take. “Just happy for you.”

“This is weird. You’re all acting weird,” you said as Bucky and Steve took their spots on each side of your chair. They had their machines and stencils nearby, but didn’t say anything about your comment. “Guys, what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” they said at once.

Bull-fucking-shit. “Are you two really that nervous?” you asked. These two had fought side-by-side, in and out of the military, and had seen their share of horrors. They were masters of their craft. They had nothing to fear about this.

Steve nodded slowly. You got a better look at him and saw how pale he was. “Maybe we’re feeling a bit antsy now. At least, I am.”

“I am a bit, too,” Bucky added, leaning over to give you a quick kiss. You noticed that his smile didn’t reach his eyes. “We want it to be perfect. It’s what you deserve.”

You felt small as the words sunk in, briefly reaching out to touch the tops of their hand. Maybe that’s why they wanted everyone here. Moral support was always a good thing. “You have nothing to be nervous about. I told you earlier, I trust you. I’m ready,” you promised. Your wrists were ready to be branded. They were artists and you allowed yourself to become their canvas.

The boys didn’t visibly relax, but you could feel that some of the tension was gone as you looked between them.

“You sure you don’t want to be blindfolded?” Sam joked.

“That’s for the bedroom only,” you teased back, making everyone laugh.

You exhaled as they cleaned your inner wrists with the rubbing alcohol. The cool sensation was almost a sense of false security since you knew you were going to feel at least some degree of pain shortly. The stencils went on next as you stared straight ahead. As tempted as you were to glance down to see them, you refused to look.

“Since you’re not going to look,” Bucky grinned. “Do you trust where we’re putting these?”

“And from what we see, they’re nice and even,” Steve promised.

“Once again, I trust you,” you told them before they slowly pulled the paper away.

You smiled as Mandy got her phone out to take a picture, waiting patiently as the boys got their machines ready. You really did admire how seriously they took their job for every single client and you were no exception. They ran a clean, safe shop. You were in the best hands.

“Deep breaths,” Bucky softly reminded you once they were ready, checking his machine once more.

“And try to stay still,” Steve added. They warned you that the lining would likely be the most painful part of the process, with any shading or coloring afterwards hurting less. “If it’s too much, tell us.”

You nodded quickly. Deep breaths. Stay still. If I can take their cocks, I can take a couple of needles.

Though they warned you, the prickling sensation you felt on each wrist almost made you jump. The needles stung, as you expected, but you managed not to make a sound. You could feel their soothing touch through their gloves as they held your lower arms down. It was gentle, intimate and you firmly had to remind yourself not to be aroused.

They already came inside me once today and I don’t need to make a mess on this chair with everyone watching.

The conversations around you were in low tones, likely to put you at ease, and they had varying degrees of smiles on their faces. Even Mandy was unexpectedly silent as she took a couple of photos. You expected her to be a chatterbox, but she was likely being respectful of the boys to not distract them. You appreciated it.

“Doing great, doll,” Bucky praised, even though he didn’t lift his eyes. Steve did for a moment, giving you a tender smile, before he went back to work. And it was so much like them to balance giving you what you needed, which was assurance in different ways.

I love you both.

After a few minutes, the pain faded to a dulling sensation. Maybe it was adrenaline or your body getting used to it. You wouldn’t call a needle piercing your skin a pleasant feeling, but it wasn’t bad. It somehow felt like the right kind of pain. You could easily see why people didn’t stop at one tattoo.

“Still feeling okay?” Steve questioned as you nodded. “Do you need to take a break?”

“I’m fine. No break,” you said.

Mandy held out her phone to show you the photos. She managed to block out your wrists, or maybe the boys were just shielding them that well. You somehow heard the bell over the needles, surprised to see Loki. He didn’t acknowledge anyone as he silently walked over to Thor.

Ha. Guess he really does like me.

“You ready to look?” Bucky asked as he looked up, both of them clicking their machines off.

They’re done? How did they do that at the same time? “Yeah, I’m ready.”

“Which one first?” Steve smiled since you still hadn’t looked down.

Instead of answering his question, you slowly lifted both arms and bent them at the elbow so both of your wrists were in view. So many emotions went through you as you saw them. “Oh, my god.”

On your left wrist was an eight-pointed star with what appeared to be tiny gem embellishments. On the end of each were alternates between tiny moons and suns. On your right wrist was the shape of a heart, but it was made out of multiple flowers. Above the heart were the words “Live Free” with three birds flying together.

“Before we explain what they mean, what do you think of them?” Bucky asked, his voice cracking a little.

“I love them. They’re so beautiful. They’re perfect,” you smiled between them. Their smiles almost blinded you and you knew how much love and care they put into creating these. “Thank you.”

They each gave you a kiss, the sweet feel of their lips even better than normal. You turned your wrists so everyone could see them. Mandy snapped a couple photos, shrieking as she did so.

“Those are gorgeous! You better put these on your wall.”

“Fit for a queen,” Thor said proudly as he admired them.

Loki rolled his eyes, but a ghost of a smile was there. “Not bad.”

“That means he likes them,” Natasha said as Clint got his phone out.

“Get together, you three,” he said, holding it up to take a photo

“We still need to wrap her wrists,” Steve argued, but he moved in and smiled so the picture could be taken.

“Thought that was for the bedroom,” Sam joked, making Bucky laugh as Tony went to pour drinks.

I hope Clint got that in the photo. And where did Tony get the shot glasses from? “Yes, please let them wrap them so they can tell me why they designed these.”

You placed your arms back on the chair so they could apply the ointment and wrap. They went through the aftercare instructions with you before, but you were certain they’d go over them again. It wouldn’t hurt, especially since you didn’t want to do any damage to the beautiful designs they just made.

“Come here, come here,” Mandy said once you were wrapped, grabbing your hands to pull you out of the chair. You almost laughed when she pulled you away from the group, your back to them. “You’re happy?”

“I am. They’re wonderful,” you smiled.

“Not the tattoos,” she said, biting her lip. “You’re happy with them? With Bucky and Steve?”

You nodded slowly. You swore tears were filling her eyes again. “I am. I love them more than anything.”

She sniffled as she hugged you close. “They love you, too, you know? So fucking much."

You patted her back a little, trying to figure out why she was so emotional. “I know they do. I’m lucky to have them.”

She hugged you tighter, sniffling again. “You’re my best friend and your happiness means the world to me.”

“Yours means the world to me, too,” you promised, leaning back and pushing her back gently by the shoulders so you could look at her. “But why are you being so emotional?”

Instead of speaking, she turned you around. Everyone was facing you, smiling as they held shot glasses in their hands. The only empty hands were Bucky and Steve’s, but they stood side-by-side with smiles as they gazed at you.

“What’s going on?” you questioned as you took a step forward.

Steve cleared his throat. “People have said at times that Buck and I are different, like night and day. The moon and the sun. So if we’re the moon and the sun, that makes you our star,” he explained as you glanced down at your left wrist.

“And your heart was one the things that drew us to you,” Bucky said as you lifted your gaze. His blue eyes had an extra shine to them as he smiled at you. “You reminded us of a flower. We got to watch you blossom into who you are and you’re a new beginning for both of us. You make us feel free.”

They stepped forward in sync, each reaching for your hand before they dropped to one knee.

Wait. Are they… “Oh, my God,” you whispered.

“You’re our star, our heart and a piece of us we never want to be without,” Bucky told you, a tear falling from his eye. “You taught me how to love and not to be afraid of it, even for a second.”

“And you taught me to love again and to fight like hell to hang onto it,” Steve said proudly.

You almost burst into tears as Bucky removed a box from his pocket. “Our friends have always been our family, but you are our home.”

You couldn’t stop the tears at that point, letting them spill freely as you smiled down at them.

Bucky held up the box as Steve opened it, the three entwining bands shining in the light. You couldn't tell where one began and the other two ended. It was unbreakable. “We love you with everything we have,” the brunette swore.

“And always will,” the blonde added.

“Will you be our wife?” they asked together, both looking up at you with hope and love in their eyes. You knew in that moment you would forever be their first world.

A watery laugh came out as you nodded. “Yes!”

"Against her better judgment she said 'yes'," Tony affectionately announced. "Drink!"

You heard Mandy burst into tears as Bucky slipped the ring on your finger, everyone cheering and downing their shot. None of it registered as you dropped to your knees, framing Bucky’s face to kiss him deeply. You let out another small, happy laugh before doing the same to Steve. You felt their arms wrap around you in a tight hug as you kept crying.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Steve chanted in a whisper.

“Love you so fucking much, doll,” Bucky sniffled, smiling as he kissed your temple. “Or should we start calling you Blossom?”

You laughed again as you felt both of them begin to wipe your tears away. “I like Blossom,” you said, looking at the ring on your left hand. That explained everything. Your boys being nervous, why Mandy was so emotional and why everyone was there. They were all welcoming you home. Your beautiful tattooed bastards were your home.

Because like the new tattoos on your wrist, they had a permanent place in your heart.

*****

Tattoo inspiration photos for our reader below.

Hope to see our boys again soon, especially since they have something to celebrate. Love and thanks for reading!

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yutafrita · 3 months

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AN ANGEL, MY ANGEL, AND ME {PREVIEW}

Teaser /// 1 /// 2 /// 3

⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Fallen Angel!Sungchan x Reader (she/her)

Preview WC: 712

Preview TW: Mentions of an arrest, discussions and depictions of food/ eating, sexual scenarios and innuendos, religious imagery and references

Story Synopsis: Finding out your best friend is a guardian angel is pretty mind numbing. It only gets worse when you find out a Fallen Angel has been hiding in your apartment for two years. You think your life can’t get any weirder, until you start lying about being married to keep your new job.

⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖

“I was thinking,” you popped out from your room in your work clothes, holding a thin gold chain you never wore. “Maybe wearing something I own might help mask you in public. So you can leave without needing me.”

Your line of thinking was, if Sungchan was able to hide in your apartment without being found by the troop, then there was a chance he didn’t need you around at all times to stay safe. He turned around, spatula in hand as he furrowed his eyebrow. He was in the midst of cooking pancakes, and the faint hint of smoke reminded him of this before he turned back to face the stove and flip them.

“Are you kicking me out?”

“What? Of course not. I just figured you’d want actual independence even though you’re on the lam.”

“On the what?”

“On the lam? Running from the troops?” You elaborated. Sungchan had yet to disclose more information regardingthe warrant for his arrest, but you hadn’t really pressed much. You two had a solid cohabitating, co-existing, thing going and you really didn’t want to push your luck.

Sungchan slipped the pancakes onto the two plates he had set up before turning to face you. He seemed hesitant, and you went to further assuage his nerves.

“I… I think you’d like not having to rely on me to go around on your own.”

He seemed to mull it over before nodding and adding, “I haven’t been able to fly in a while.”

“Then it’s settled- try leaving the apartment while I’m at work and text me how it goes,” you moved closer then, holding the chain for him to see. You had gotten Sungchan a simple phone to use so you both could more easily communicate, and he seemed pleased with the device.

You kicked over your step stool as Sungchan turned back around. He tucked his wings slightly to give you easier access as you clipped the small chain around his neck. You never really wore it, but from the small glint it gave as it now sat on the collar of the Fallen Angel, it felt like it was really meant for him.

Standing slightly above him now, you looked closely at his wings. They were mostly black, with glints of gold and gray splattered at random places. The wings spanned all of his back, stopping just at his calf, and the feathers looked insanely soft.

“Everything okay?” Sungchan’s question snapped you back to reality.

“Um… can I ask something?”

“Yeah!” he turned back around, a smile on his face. He loved asking you questions, so it was as if he was excited to answer something for you.

“Can,” you sighed, embarrassed, “can I touch your wings?”

He raised his eyebrows, taken aback by the question.

“Sorry, I was just really curious,” you admitted, scratching the back of your neck.

“Y-yeah, go ahead,” he turned his back to you again, “I don’t think they’re anything special, though.”

You scoffed lightly before gently raising your hand, and caressing one of his wings. It was softer than anything you had ever touched before, and for a moment you swore the entire world went silent as you felt just how delicate they were. You caressed it again, before you heard Sungchan’s breath hitch and then a small whine followed before your whole body froze.

“Sungchan, are you okay?” you removed your hand, confused by his reaction. On the back of his neck and ears you could see his skin turning red. You stepped down from your position of height, stepping back to grab the syrup before noting that Sungchan still hadn’t moved.

“Are you embarrassed or something?” you were joking, but the angel looked over his shoulder and wings to glare at you, his whole face now tinted in red.

“Wings are… really… sensitive,” he admitted, emphasizing ‘sensitive’ heavily before it clicked. He hadn’t turned around yet because he was hiding what you apparently accidentally caused.

“Oh shoot I’m gonna be late for work,�� you lied, ignoring the pancakes and rushing out of the apartment with your work bag and phone. You wanted to think as little about the accidental arousal you caused to your roommate, and forced yourself to ignore it as you took the train to work.

⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Permatag! @nini0620

An Angel, my Angel, and me tags! @cherriruto @deonuism @lesserahyuck

If you would like to be added to the tag list feel free to lmk <3

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anthurak · 6 months

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So as a follow-up to my post about Marceline's super tragic and angsty prequel to the Elements Arc hidden in the episode ‘Ketchup’ yesterday, here’s a fun little ‘What-If?’ idea I’ve been thinking about for a while that could branch off from it:

If Marceline really did go all ‘feral, angry vampire girlfriend warpath’ on Patience both for what she did to Bonnie and also to find a way to help Bonnie, what if Marcy went a little… further?

So that when Finn, Jake and BMO later return to what was once the Candy Kingdom in Skyhooks, we see that Marceline, even ‘Marshmaline the Campfire Queen’, is conspicuously absent.

Then later, when Finn, Jake and Ice King are traveling through the new, desolate Ice Kingdom, they start hearing a soulful, sorrowful tune echoing through the otherwise silent wastes. A song sung by a very familiar voice…

And when the trio finally get inside the new Ice Palace, they find not Patience St. Pim, but rather Marceline the Ice Queen.

Basically, what if in her rage at Patience and desperation to find some way of helping Bonnie, Marcy actually devoured Patience’s soul, and thus inadvertently became the NEW Ice Elemental herself?

Now funny enough, I feel like this change wouldn’t actually have much of an effect on the Elements Arc itself. For one, I highly doubt that Marceline would be in any condition/willingness to actually help Finn and Jake. Remember that the effects of Ice Elemental contamination induce overwhelming ennui and depression.

So if that got dumped onto Marceline of all people? In the midst of her losing Bonnie to her own elemental corruption? Yeah, at this point I think our girl isn’t going to have the will to do more than stay cooped up in her new ice tower singing angsty, gay love songs for her lost candy girlfriend/soulmate with her new ice-fox backup choir. Now of course they would certainly be THE ANGSTIEST and GAYEST love songs you ever did hear, but still.

Like the big danger for Finn and Jake isn’t that Marceline tries to keep them there or is otherwise antagonistic, it’s that her music is so sorrowful/angsty it actually carries the depression-inducing elemental contamination that threatens to sap people’s will to go on and making them think of lost loves. Which could lead to some interesting character-moments for Finn: Like Marceline’s song first dredge up his old feelings for Bubblegum and Flame Princess, but Finn is actually able to push through the depression and yearnings because he’s moved on from those feelings and can recognize that the relationships they represented have either ended (Flame Princess) or never existed in the first place (Bubblegum). And when the songs make him think of Huntress Wizard, Finn is able to push through because he has a far more casual relationship with HW and doesn’t have the kind of deep yearnings for her that would easily paralyze him with depression.

Of course the most interesting part of this new version of Winter Light would be the potential meeting and conversation between this new Ice Marceline and Ice King/Simon. From Marceline potentially musing on how she now knows how Simon feels, to Ice King possibly having a weird, distorted heart-to-heart with Marceline where we see just a glimpse of Simon.

Following this, I don’t see this change having much of an effect on the rest of the arc, with perhaps one small but still noteworthy addition: When Finn, Jake and IK flee the new Ice Kingdom, Finn calls out to Marceline something to the effect of if she does miss PB so much, she should go see her. Then later during Hero Heart when Princess Bubblegum candifies Phoebe and the rest of her flame army, Marceline actually DOES show up in a dramatic and very impressive display of power, possibly with her own ice army. Finn at first thinks she’s here to help, but it turns out Marcy isn’t here to fight, but simply to see Bonnie. And when her followers also start getting transformed by PB, Marceline simply accepts the candification herself to become Marshmaline. Simply because now she CAN be with Bonnie.

You know, all to really dial up the ‘All is Lost’ vibe of that episode.

Now this means that Skyhooks II and the end of the arc play out the same as they did originally, with Finn and Ice King managing to hit the LSP-shaped elemental-reset button and undo everyone’s elemental corruption. I mean, maybe Bonnie and Marcy have a Big Damn Kiss a season early after they get de-candied, but I think it’s easy to imagine they probably already had a BDK off-screen in the original XD

Of course I think we can all agree that the real interesting angle to this change is the potential of Marceline being the new Ice Elemental on rest of the series. Admittedly, it is a bit hard to imagine the existing plot-points for the rest of the series being affected much by Marceline now having some ice powers. Aside from her Dark Cloud kaiju form she breaks out in Come Along With Me now likely being a Dark BLIZZARD form.

Instead, the really interesting potential of this change comes in how this might affect Marcy’s dynamic with Simon and how she might go about adapting to her new abilities. I think we can all agree it would be fun to see Marcy and Bonnie trying to figure out their new elemental powers together. Though consider this: If Bonnie was visited by the spirit/past-incarnation-memories of Chatsberry, what if Marceline ends up being visited by the spirt of Urgance Evergreen? You know, the being who made the Ice Crown?

Really makes you think where something like that could lead…

#adventure time #adventure time au #adventure time theory #marceline abadeer #marceline the vampire queen #marceline the ice queen #adventure time elements #patience st pim #marceline the ice elemental #simon petrikov #finn the human #jake the dog #princess bubblegum #bonnibel bubblegum #bubbline

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yikesharringrove · 1 year

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He didn’t mean to hightail it straight to the nearest bar. He didn��t even know what a dive bar a was doing out in the fucking backwoods of Indiana, anyway.

Billy’d just gotten in a big fuckin’ fight with his old man, shimmied out the window of their new house, and started walking.

And he happened across a bar.

He didn’t have his wallet on him, rookie move, but he figured his black eye and three-day-old moving stubble might help him out a bit here.

The bouncer gave him an odd look, glaring him down as he approached, but let him pass without asking for identification.

There were motorcycles parked in the gravel lot, along with some sensible looking Mom Cars.

It was dim inside, and the floor was kinda sticky, but they were playing Patti Smith on a shitty jukebox, so he decided to stay.

He took a seat at the bar.

The bartender gave him the same funny look the bouncer did. She was one hell of a woman, her leather jacket had a pair of handcuffs sewn onto the front, she had her nose, lips, and eyebrows pierced. Her hair was greying and cropped into a very similar crew cut to Neil’s.

“What’ll it be?”

“Whiskey, please. And maybe a beer, Darling.” He winked.

She laughed.

“Honey, you know where you are, right? This is a fuckin’ dyke bar, and you’re no older than sixteen. You’ll have a pop and you’ll be grateful for it.” She had a slight southern drawl to her voice. Texas. Like his mom.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Okay, quit it with that shit.” She scooped ice into a glass, and poured him a cola from the well. “Why you here? It got somethin’ to do with that shiner?”

He took a long drink of the soda.

He didn’t know if it was her voice, or the fact that for the first time in a long time, he was with his own people.

“Yeah.”

“Someone at home?”

“Yeah.”

“‘Cause you’re a homo?”

“Yeah.”

She smiled at him, although this one wasn’t the sad one he’d been expecting. It was understanding.

“We’ll, Baby. You come here if you ever need a safe place to roost, okay? We all know when one of our own needs saving. You come here, and you ask for Susan, and we’ll get your mind off that bruise.”

He took another long drink of his soda, but this time, to try and swallow down the stupid sob that was trying to force its way out.

“Thank you. I’m, I didn’t realize what kind of bar this is. I didn’t really know that people like us were out here. My dad, he, uh, moved us here. From California. He caught me with a boy.” He averted his gaze from Susan’s face, making patterns in the condensation on the side of his glass. Patti Smith turned over to The Runaways. Some women were dancing by the jukebox now. “He told me we were coming here so I couldn’t do any of that fairy shit.” He furrowed his brow on the last line, puffing up his chest in an imitation of his father.

“Just because people hate us more here, doesn’t mean we don’t exist. Queers live everywhere, whether people like your daddy like it or not. He can’t stop us from living any better than he can stop the sun from rising.”

Susan scooped some ice into a clean bar towel, securing it closed with the yellow crunchy around her wrist. She slid it across the bar to Billy, and he put it on his eye gratefully.

“Don’t lose that scrunchy. That’s my wife’s favorite one, and she won’t speak to me for a month if I give it to some kid.”

“Yeah? Your old lady a hardass?” Billy grinned.

There was something, so fucking good, about talking to Susan. Talking to an actual fucking grown up. Someone with a life, and a partner. A queer, like him, who actually found love. And, by the dreamy grin on her face, had found happiness.

“Hollie would yell herself hoarse is she heard you call her old. She don’t look a day over thirty-five, she’ll tell you. We’ve been together for over twenty years. That’s why she’s my wife. We can’t get married yet, but she’s not my fucking girlfriend. We’re not silly high schoolers goin’ to the prom, and shit. No offense.”

“Nah, I may be a silly high schooler, but I’d rather be dead than go to any prom. Especially with a girl. No offense.”

“Hey, you’re in my bar, and we don’t allow bad talk about women. Unless you ex-girl fucked you over. Then we talk a whole lotta shit.” She refilled Billy’s soda. “But you could always go with a friend.”

“I’ve lived in this town for four days, I don’t have any friends, let alone a beard. Maybe if I did, my dad wouldn’t’ve popped me tonight.”

Susan’s smile faltered a little bit.

“Sweetie, I don’t like to interfere. And I know that most of the time, getting CPS involved makes it worse. But Baby, are you safe? I know he hits you, but do you think he’d-” she trailed off. “I’ve just seen some shit, you know? Boys like you with fathers like yours. Boys that didn’t survive.”

“Everything my dad does, is because he’s scared of how people see him. He’s terrified that people won’t think he’s a great father or a respectable citizen. I don’t think he’d get that low.”

But, in truth, Billy didn’t know.

He’s been getting hits from his dad since he was a kid. And there are times when Billy had thought well, this is it.

But Susan was right. CPS never did anything but piss off his dad.

Susan looked thoughtful.

She grabbed a napkin, and pulled a pen out of her leather jacket.

“I’m giving you the number here. You call if you need anything. We take care of our own, okay?” He nodded in response. “Finish your pop, and get back on home. I’m sure you have a curfew to mind.”

Billy winced, looking up at Susan, feeling like such shit after her kindness.

“I don’t have my wallet.”

“Yeah, you don’t have shoes on either, Dumbass.” She winked at him again. “Holl!” She shouted towards the group of women dancing by the jukebox. “This little birdie needs a ride!”

A short woman came drifting over. Her hair was dark black, and swept clear below her ass. She could’ve sat on it and not noticed.

The scrunchy made sense.

She was short, much shorter than Susan, but she beamed up at her, turning to smile just as warmly at Billy.

“What’s your name, kiddo?”

“Billy.”

It was kind of nice, being called terms of endearment by these two women. He liked that they weren’t trying to pull one over on him. He felt safe.

Susan slid a set of keys to Hollie.

“Take Billy home, please. We don’t need him walking around outside.”

Hollie ushered Billy out of his seat, climbing in the stool herself to lean over the bar. She and Susan kissed over the bar, and that funny hopeful feeling washed over Billy again.

“You’re welcome here whenever you want, Baby. You’re not the first little gay boy we’ve had in here, and you won’t be the last. Don’t be a stranger.”

“Thank you, seriously, I-thank you.”

Susan beamed at him, sliding Hollie’s yellow scrunchy back in her wrist.

#Susan is based of a real person and she’s the most specialist to me #billy hargrove #yikes writes

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lovejosephquinn · 1 year

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submissive!joe tied up having you kiss him all over his body, teasing and edging until he’s begging

i beg 🫶🏻

The longest smut I think I've ever done. SUB JOE HAS A SPECIAL PLACE IN MY HEART AS OF TODAY.

Under 18's DNI - This is feral all the way through.

Word count: 3.2k

It wasn't a common occurrence for you to be on the opposite end of things, in fact Joe was almost always the dominant one and that's the way it had always been. Sat on the sofa one night watching aimless television before bed, Joe brought up the idea for you to switch roles, the mention of it coming from no where as he sipped at the last of his glass of wine. A secret fantasy alluded from no where in which you never knew existed. Turns out that he'd always dreamed of letting someone have their way with him without him having a say in the matter. You were of course, more than happy to oblige in his darkest of wishes.

It was also part of Joe's wishes to be tied up, hands and feet both separated so he was tied to each side of the headboard and at the bottom, enabling you to have better access to where you wanted to be at different moments. You'd even planned it for the next night just so that you got enough hours in the evening to have your fun; it was all you'd thought about for 24 hours.

He'd bought new items home on the day of said event, a full set including cuffs to fit his wrists and ankles, a blindfold if necessary, a cock ring with added vibrator for if you wanted to get really intense and out of everything, the thing that stood out to you most was the giant feather that brought the box to life. You knew you'd be using each product on him tonight and it was allowing you to get riled up just thinking about over stimulating him the way you wanted to.

You both took a soft non sexual shower together, washing down one another, laughing and giggling like nothing of the sort was about to happen, the splash of the warm water blasting from above you was able to relax you for the time being, yet in reality every fibre in your being was fired up and ready to dominate your man; you were just hoping it would live up to his expectations. As confident as you were, you were also quite nerved that you wouldn't serve the part as well as he usually did.

You made no attempt in conversation as you concentrated on moving around the bed to put Joe into his restraints, a smile which creeped onto your face when you'd completed the first full task alerted you to Joe's face which which was in the midst of gulping his saliva loudly down his throat.

Joe whimpered as you stood at the edge of the bed before him, chained and trapped for you to use his body as you pleased. He was the one that had asked for this, begged to be touched and exploited. You couldn’t help but feel the excitement of being able to do whatever you wanted, a claim him as your own type of situation. There was nothing off limits according to him and you'd understood the assignment from what he'd brought home with him especially for you to use, there was no doubt remaining, you were ready to pull out all the stops.

His eyes were still trained on you, glazed with a slight anxiety but overwhelmed with excitement as you bit down on your lip; analysing his strained movements.

You started off from his face, moving down to his chest which was lifting heavily from his difficulty in breathing, down to his stomach where his erection stood proud, slapped against his happy trail which almost made you salivate, your fantasies getting the better of you almost immediately. His thighs were almost shaking in anticipation, you were keeping him waiting and it was agonising to him; oh how the tables have turned.

You laid out the contents of the rest of the objects beside Joe before removing your towel that you still had around you, letting him take a view of one of his most favourite sights in the world before you took a hold of the blindfold. Joe immediately lifted his head up slight so that you could move the elastic with more ease for it to sit comfortably, before you completely shut his vision into darkness, you leaned back to reach full eye contact with one another.

"I hope you're going to be a good boy for me." You whisper, your lips inches away from his. Joe moves up in attempt to kiss you, but you move away making him flinch at the reaction he wasn't expecting. Puffing his lips out like a child you make a sudden giggle towards him which echoes into his ear drums, a sound so erotic his cock twitches from the very sound.

"Tell me that you will and who for and maybe I'll let you kiss me before this blindfold covers your eyes." Joe stayed silent and you slowly went to push it down over his lids, a startled grunt leapt from his lungs when he realised you were serious.

"Wait. I'll be a good boy, your good boy. I promise." You gave an acceptive nod towards Joe, taking in each word as it sprung from his lips, earning him a soft, subtle kiss which you could tell he wished would last longer from the way you heard the chains of the cuffs rattle from the sides of the headboard.

"You're not going anywhere." You hum a slightly more challenging noise of a high pitched chuckle when he pulls again for good measure to make sure the cuffs are definitely intact and that he well and truly won't be moving out of the place he's been situated. You kiss him once more before settling the blindfold over his eyes, his head tilts from side to side, trying to listen out for which side you're going to. Of course it's the side where the objects lay brand new, ready to be utilized for their purpose.

Resume back to Joe's lips parted, heavy breathing commencing. You climb on top of him, kneeling between his thighs, you move your hands forward to drag your finger tips from his shoulders, down his chest, tracing his happy trail and one sharp stroke of his length. He chokes out a over dramatic moan from not quite anticipating where you were going to go.

You move yourself upward so that you're looking at him square in the face, his lips look delectable, soft and highly kissable. Your hairs tied back so he doesn't get a hint of where you are, only the shallow breath you're trying to hide as you push your mouth down onto his again, the chains rattle from above your heads as he attempts another sudden move, jolting in desperation to try to touch you. As your tongue slides in it's like a motion that sets off Joe bucking up his hips to find exactly where your crotch is, he needs the friction and it's like you can already tell he's beginning to struggle playing the submissive one.

"It's really dark under here, can I get a peak baby?"

"No that's not what bad boys get." You tapped your hand against his cheek, earning a short smirk before his lips pressed into a line again. Rolling his tongue over his lips after being denied, he was quick to over step the mark with his response.

"I'm not bad, I'm a good boy. Good for you."

"So why did you try to grind yourself up against me?" You tapped the other side of his cheek, leaning your lips down to the right side of his ear, taking a nibble, hearing him huff a sigh of your refusal and his irritation of his attempted coping mechanism had failed.

"I slipped."

You bring your lips to his neck, grinding your teeth against the vein that presented itself to you in the way his body began to strain, a moan slightly followed from the way you use the bottom and top to clench his skin lightly between your pearly whites.

"Ugh, shit. Please mark m-me." You'd barely even touched him and he was a mess, it's a possibility that leaving this thought to go to each other's head was in fact a bad idea as he was already stuttering his words and you were already ready to just be fucked and be done with it, but you'd made a promise and you were going through with it no matter how long it took. Teasing him was your number one priority, edging him and denying his orgasm several times before you allowed him to finally.

You dug in to his neck further at his request, your teeth now fully sinking into his skin, your mouth sucking against him, tasting your way through his scent which engulfed both your senses of taste and smell. The way you sucked as if you were dying to gain an appetite for blood, you had his body squirming from just adhering to the wish of fully marking the skin you could sink into.

Your lips left soft pecks up around his jawline, back down his neck and onto his shoulders, pinning sloppy slurping sounds during every kiss you left on each cell of his body. Just as you reach his breast bone, your hand smoothly slides down his torso, taking a fist full of his length and writhing your hand in a steady movement, pulling his foreskin back and then up again several times repeated, causing Joe to make a sudden gasp at another unpredicted gesture. His hips suddenly bucking again makes you stop and he whines out loud. You feel a sense of power wash over you and you can't help but congratulate yourself in your own head, a mental high five that you've already got him in this state.

"I need it, touch m-me please, please."

"Stay still and you'll get more." You said it with such a stern tone yet there was a hint of sincerity if you listened hard enough.

You continued your journey downward, kissing between his chest, around his nipples, taking your time to move further, when you reached his stomach you made a mark just above where the happy trail begun, your hooded eyes watching out as his teeth bite down on his bottom lip from a wince of pain from the hard bite you unleashed upon him.

"Fucking hell." He moaned out an usually large exhale of air, trying to regain it back in his lungs as quickly as he let it out.

"You like that?" Not that you needed to ask such a rhetorical question.

"So. Fucking. Much."

You could tell, he was leaking so much, you weren't about to back down and let him cum anytime soon, this moment was yours and you were not ready to waste another second. Your tongue slides it's way down the happy trail, brushing against the side of his cock, making his body tingle, you hear the clatter of the cuffs from his ankles, he's trying to close the gap but his restraints won't let him.

You lean up and hover over him, making sure your breath hit just where he needed it, elating the ultimate tension between the two of you, especially himself. You'd like to think he has an idea of where this is going, your mouth almost pressed to his length, that's when you move away. Grabbing a hold of the feather that's laid waiting next to him, making contact on his sides, up and down, moans mixed with bursts of laughter arise. Chains are rattling in all four corners, he's trying his best to break loose to stop you from tickling him any further, but they won't give.

"Stay fucking still and then you'll get your reward."

"Please I can't take it." Joe pleaded with sharp breaths attached to it.

You fluttered it up around his neck, a wicked grin upon your features. Removing it, you replaced it with your fingers. Seeing him relax a little, you take it upon yourself to trick him and bring the feather back in it's place to torture him further.

"Baby- I- Fuck. Stop. Please!"

You tossed it to the side, edging yourself further along the bed and without warning, took a hold of his cock and began jerking hard. Joe was emitting large groans deep from the pit of his stomach, the top of your grip sodden with pre-cum.

"Yes, yes right there baby. Shit, don't stop." You did the opposite to his plea. Dropping the erection which was now as solid as a rock back to his stomach.

"Wait, no I-"

You sat upon him and immediately Joe felt the slick you'd created from such excitement as his cock wedged between your slit, you rocked your hips back and fourth, moaning yourself as the closer you got, the more his tip elevated slightly touching your clit, you massaged your own nipples, moaning out his name from the friction of the movement, the wait had never felt this good. As much as you were teasing Joe, you were also exasperating yourself.

Whilst you continued your grind, you leaned over to grab the last object you'd not yet used. Lifting yourself off, you manoeuvred into an easier position at kneeling point where you'd first started between his thighs. Joe knew at once what you were doing when you placed it where it needed to be.

"Oh shit, this is where it all ends for me darling."

"You won't cum until I say so, got it?"

Not that he didn't understand your question, it very much sounded like he was against the idea. You left switching on the vibrator for the time being, watching him nod his head briefly, staying silent from the inevitable.

You settle forward, lifting his cock up once more and lick a stripe from the base to the tip.

"Yes, you know I love it when you suck-"

"Shut the fuck up." You warn him, trying to remain the dominant one at all costs, it's just so out of nature for it being the other way around that he's losing all control of subbing for that split second.

"Shit I- I- I forgot my place, I'm sorry baby."

With that, you took his tip in through your lips, heavily moving against it, making sure your lips clenched around it to really make him feel what you're giving out. Moving down and taking a couple of inches in, pushing the tip into your cheek, you felt him begin to rut his hips up against you, not giving in, you gathered your hands to his thighs and pushed all your weight down to stop him from continuing.

"I need to cum, please."

With your mouth full you ignored him, he knew the drill and understood that even though he needed to, he wasn't to do so. You pushed your thumb against the vibrator, turning it on and moving your head even further down. Your lips felt the tremors against the vibrations and Joe's sounds were borderline pornographic, his knuckles were turning white from the way he squeezed his own hands, his toes curling from the intensity of the notion.

"Oh fuckkkk, oh my fucking god, yes, fuck."

You take all you can in, his tip now touching your tonsils and through the juddering you can physically feel the way that every muscle Joe has is shaking with over stimulation. You cup at his balls, massaging and squeezing. You're so surprised at his determination and concentration in not releasing before you let him, he's straining and tears are seeping out, wetting his eye lashes.

Removing him from your mouth, you sound out clear as day for him to hear. "You've got two options, either I ride your face or I ride your cock." Joe's lips are parted and only etches of breath are forced out, no words, no sounds just huffing and puffing.

"Well?"

"Both."

Both is good. You climb over him and slam your cunt straight down onto his mouth, his muscle instantly getting to work, tasting what he'd been craving this whole time. Joe's already admitted to you before that he's addicted to your pussy, the way it looks and the very flavour of it. You begin to crumble instantly, rubbing around him, dampening the lower half of his face with your slick.

You feel the moment his tongue pushes it's way into your hole and you begin to mount over him, clutching at the headboard to try to gain more, impossible as you're already practically suffocating him from pressing yourself down all you can. He fucks your hole like a professional, dipping in and out of you at a rapid pace, he's savouring every second he gets to gain that tiny bit of control; after all you're only using him for the orgasm.

You quickly reach breaking point when the knot in your stomach gives way, you release straight into his mouth and quickly jump off, your thighs palpitating from the ferocity. As much as you wanted to ride it out and feel the full effects, this was about Joe and you quickly clambered down to the still vibrating cock ring, edging him over and over, little buzzes which shocked the solidity of his erection.

"You've been such a good boy for me Joey."

"I- n-need t-to c-cum s-so bad." He sobbed out, literal tears forming now, staining his cheeks.

"Soon." You bite down on your lip, getting into position and sink downward, his cock stretching your tight little hole just the way you like it.

"Your fucking pussy will be the death of me baby." He cries out. The way the cock ring vibrates in unison to your bouncing movements have every bone in his body aching, including the one inside of you which is ready to explode.

"Not a bad way to go." You lean forward, moving the blindfold away from his eyes, letting him see exactly what he's been missing. Joe squints when the light hits his eyes but they move straight to watching how his cock fills you with every thrust.

"Cum, you've done so good for me."

"I-I can cum?! Yes, yes. Fuck, please. Fuck. Yes." He lets go the second he screeches out the last word, exploding inside of you, heaps of his seed filling you and leaking out everywhere, making a chaotically pleasing mess between you both.

"Holy fucking shit baby." It's like his soul has completely left his body and he's just lifeless, all weight lifted as he relaxes himself completely against the bed, his hands and feet falling limp against the cuffs.

After riding out his orgasm and bringing him back down to reality, you climb off him, not worried about the mess that's currently dripping out of you. Leaning over to give him the sweetest and most gentle kiss as you put the dominant goddess trait to the side, becoming the all important darling girlfriend he loves and cherishes.

"You. Are. Amazing." Joe was still in the midst of getting the oxygen back into his lungs. As you undid the cuffs and removed him from his confinement, he grabs a hold of you bringing you down to lay on his chest, giving you a gentle squeeze in a silent thank you for bringing his fantasy to life, not just the fact he probably needed to stretch from being in that position for so long.

"So the role reversal will happen again?" You giggled.

"Maybe. But I'll be definitely using these cuffs to get you back."

#joseph quinn smut #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn fluff #joseph quinn angst #joseph quinn fanfiction

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femoso-seben · 8 months

Text

Immortal Shenanigans

Chapter 1: Pots and Bullets

Pt. 2, Pt.3

Warning: mild violence.

You stare into the darkness and frown. You had finally remembered the location of your first-ever temple, your pride and joy. At last! But all of your Gold, Statues, and mercury river was gone! What was left were thousands of years old footprints of the thieves who robbed you.

You sigh and walk around with your flashlight in hand. You fell in through a trap door and forgot how to get out. It’s been over 5,000 years and your memories of this time long faded into the back of your mind. You walk around before stopping your eyes widen as joy sets in.

Your pots!

They survived. They were rudimentary and shabbily made, but for the time it was the best. You looked at them and gently picked on up, it was used for wine when mortals bestowed God-hood onto you. It was so long ago, to be worshiped, what bliss.

“AAAAHHH!” You turn around to see the trap door closing and a new figure with you.

“What the fucking hell was that?” The man with a Mohawk grumbles. “Hello! Anyone here me?” He shouts before walking around. He’s like a mad toddler throwing a tantrum. You giggle and he twirls around gun in hand.

“Aaah!” He screams. “What are you doing down here?”

“This is my temple.” You casually reply. It was your temple, the temple of Hauhet. Many believe you were Hauhet, the goddess of eternity.

“Your temple?” He asked his accent strong and annoyed.

“My temple,” you repeat. He stared at you with a look that called you dumb in every language possible.

“What are you a grave robber?”

“Excuse me, child! I am an Antique collector! I fell down here just like you!” You snap annoyed this young man was back talking you.

“I’m pretty sure I’m older than you,” he states looking you up and down. You give him a stink eye, of course, he thinks he’s older, you haven’t aged past the age of 20. You had long lost your actual age or the date of your birthday. You roughly believe you are 5,000 years old maybe a tad younger, you couldn’t remember.

“I look very young for my age!”

“Yeah, sure.” He turns away and begins to talk to someone, The smart man had a radio or phone on him, either way, you would have eventually gotten out of there, maybe taken you a century but you’d get out.

“Ghost do you copy?”

“Affirmative, it appears I fell down a trap and there’s a random lady done here with me.” His strong accent, Scottish from the sounds of things was talking to a fool called Ghost.

You sit down on your throne as old memories of your culture seep back into your mind. The strong smell of the river, of lotus. The heavy sweet taste of honey. You remember the scent that used to adorn your skin the Kyphi only used for a god. Whenever you smell saffron it hits you like a truck.

You could no longer remember the memories but your heart never forgot the sensation of those times long passed. You open your eyes to see the man staring at you.

“You look comfy.”

“It’s my throne.”

“How long have you been down here for?”

“A day at most, at least an hour? Time moves by fast for me.” You wiggle your fingers at him, he nods.

“You fell down the trap?”

“Yup, I was digging around and fell through,” You explain shrugging and looking down at him. He was mildly handsome.

“There is an escape somewhere here…”

“How do you know that?”

“This is my temple!” You state for the again. The man rolls his eyes.

“And where would this exist be?”

“I don’t remember, this place is about 5,000 years old, I’ve forgotten.” The man sighs and walks around.

“This place is shit for a temple.”

“It used to be filled with so much gold it lined every wall.” He turns to me shocked.

“And what happened?”

“Thieves.”

Soap looked at the girl, she was no older than a teenager. Her clothes look like she shopped at a thrift store, specifically the old lady section. She sat on that throne like she owned it, her crazy ramble might be due to dehydration. She could also be a spy for the opponent.

“What’s your name?”

“Which one?” You cock your head to the side and gaze down at him.

“Your real name.”

“I have many “real names” be more specific.”

“Which name are you using right now?”

“We’ll I have several.” The man glared and walked off. He groans, he is dealing with an absolute weirdo.

The trap door was activated and light shone into this hidden temple. You stand up and walk under the light. The sun felt great on your dark skin.

“Soap you down there?” A gruff-sounding man pokes his over the hole.

“Affirmative.” A rope was dropped down. And soap walks behind you. “After you.” You grimace but climb the rope using just your arms. Your legs dangle like dead weight.

Another man helps you up, and behind you, Soap (another dumb name in your opinion) climbs up to the surface. You look over to see a man with a skull mask on.

“What took you so long?”

“I was looking for the damn trigger.”

“I literally told you where it was.”

“Are you two married?” You asked rearing your arm against your knees and stared at this with a devious smile. They turn to you with a glare.

“No!” A smug smile spreads across your lips, they are funny. You stand up and put on your backpack that you stowed under the sand.

“Well you two love bird have fun, I need to return to my—“

“You're coming with us.”

“Eh?”

The next thing you know you’re strapped down to a chair surrounded by 4 big guys. You would have laughed if it wasn’t for the gun pointed at your head— actually, you didn’t care. This situation seems so porn esc.

You look up trying to stop yourself from laughing. You fail and you begin to cackle like a hyena. Tears roll down your face. “Oh meh gawd this is funny!” You say between a gasp of air.

“What’s your name?” The man with incredible facial hair asked you, a cigar in hand. Your laughter stopped and you gave into the man’s face.

“I have many, be more specific.” You tease. You know how this looks, you had many names, you’ve lied so much you long forgot names you give people who might remember you.

“The main one you used.”

“I have like 5 in rotation.”

“What are they!” He bellows, You gaze at him coldly, barely fazed.

“Mary, Nina, Mia, YN, and Pot stealer.” Soap unfolded his arm, did his ears deceive him?

“Pot stealer?” Ghost mutters.

“Now I have to ask, why’d you steal pots?”

“I like pots!” You tell Soap. He stared into my face before covering his and laughing his ass off.

“You can not be serious!”

“Look old people are ruthless when it comes to antique collecting, they always like to throw the term thief. It’s not my fault I’m rich!” You complain. Soap drops to his knees laughing so hard he couldn’t even stand.

“How many— how many pots do you have at home?” Soap asked through gasps.

“Like a thousand or two thousand, I’m not a math guy.” You wiggle your fingers. The binding on your hands is tight. It was constricting the flow of blood.

“YN? She went missing a week ago?” The cigar man mumbles.

“A week? Pogs! Huh, time really does pass by fast.” You smile nodding my head. It was an accomplishment, this is the shortest time you’ve been stuck somewhere no one could find me.

“How are you still alive?”

“…I don’t know.” You truly have never figured out how you became immortal. Just one day you stop aging and never age past that point. You have seen husbands, children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren die, yet you were frozen in time.

“How don’t you know?”

“I’m immortal.” Everyone stared at you with eyes that said it all. You are stupid and a little bit crazy in the head.

“Yeah right.”

“So you really think you're immortal?” The mustache man asked.

“Shoot me in the head and you’ll see,” I state back.

“The news reports you’re a photographer, yet why would a photographer have many names?” Ghost asked walking around you.

“For shits and giggles.”

“I think she’s a spy.”

“I was—“

“So you are a spy!”

“Bro, literally what you just did was like calling a thirty-year-old who used to work at a Starbucks in their teens barista, it’s insulting. I haven’t been a spy since the 70s!” You shout.

“That’s like,” you begin to count on your fingers, “that’s like 50 years ago!”

“Did you have to count?” Soap asked.

“I’m not a math person!”

“Either way your sketchy.”

“That is true!”

“Or delusional.”

“That is also very true!”

“She might be working with the enemy.” The only black man said.

“That is less true but go off.”

“For someone who claims to be thousands of years old you sure do know a lot of pop culture words.”

“I feel really connected with this generation. Their want to die is such a valid emotion. Also, I might be old but I’m also 20, so I know shit.”

“She’s crazy.”

“What do you want me to sound like the Bible? Dost thou well to be angry for the gourd?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Thou hast had pity on the gourd!”

They all stare at you confused. Soap opened his mouth and closed it, “What are you talking about?”

“I’m asking you do you expect me to sound medieval?”

“Yes.”

“Art thou a muttonhead?” You state with a bored expression.

“Did you call me dumb?”

“Yay.” You nod your head. If they wanted vintage language you’ll give them Shakespeare flashback.

“If thy willa eald then thine becuman eald.” You state speaking English was a massive gulf ball in your cheeks. It was a mix of the older version of English. It didn’t matter which age it came from if it’s vaguely understandable that’s good enough.

(If you want old then you’ll get old.)

“What?”

“Sceotan me dead, and thy wilt seon.”

(Shoot me died, and you will see.)

“Speak modern English!”

“Imma lives rent-free in your head because I hit different, I’m a whole ass vibe check! And that’s on periodt.” You quickly state. “Y’all being so extra about this it ain’t it, chief. I’m not sus I’m not capping. But this entire situation is sending me!”

“What— what?”

“I don’t know I’m just saying stuff.”

“That’s enough,” the cigar man snaps his patients at its wit’s end.

“Oh poor fool, are you getting tired of me?” You tilt your head before smiling.

“Are you working with the Russian?”

“I’m not snitching on my buddies,” You had no clue what he was asking but you decided to play along. Life has long lost its sparkle. You chose many names and many identities just to amuse yourself. When you fall through the creaks of the lies seeing the world crumble around you is entertaining.

Bang!

You slump over. The world turns dark. You blink and you are alive. You kept your head down. Blood oozed from your head. And the loud complaints of the men make you smile.

“Oi,” you loudly call out causing a few to jump. They turn to you eyes wide in horror. They turn to each other, “Can ya untie me, I really need to get that bullet out my head.” You tilt your head casually to the side.

“I’m waiting.”

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1.8K words

First stupid idea idk if anyone will see this lol

If you want more please tell me!

#simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soap mw2 #call of duty #141 #modern warfare 2 #captain price #john price #cod #cod x reader #shananigans #idk what else to tag #idk

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