#like no fucking way they didn't grow out of that punk

[fragiledate]

third wheel!

[autumn-hiraeth]

Rockabye!

Hobie brown x reader

angst but not enough. First part.

NEXT PART

a/n: so many people asked for a second part. So i hope y'all like it! ( loved all the comments lol). Part 3? Gimme ideas pls

Find more here “ Hobie's masterlist 🕷”

You knew that being with someone like Hobie Brown would change your life completely and you weren't wrong. It's been three years since you saw him, three years since Hobie not only broke your heart but also got you pregnant (how thoughtfu of him). You found out you were pregnant a month later and it felt so bad 'cause Hobie obviously didn't feel nothing for you. At first you thought he was just busy but soon you got the message; he was not coming back.

So all on your own, you move in, and do what you have to do to make sure your little girl grow up well and has a good life.

Your daughter has some of your features, but she's a mini Hobie Brown. So you try to stay away from him, however he's fucking Spider Punk, if he really wanted to know about you he would have already found you. :( Never mind, he would make a terrible father. You think.

But one unexpected day, Hobie Brown meets your daughter. His daughter. Hobie is panting hard, trying to save people 'til suddenly his spider-sense kicks in and his heart races 'cause he's never felt like this before.

Then he sees a little girl crying, her parents aren't around and no matter how hurt he is, he doesn't hesitate to swing her out of the danger. He looks at the little girl and is shocked 'cause the kid , who is still sobbing, is exactly like him. She takes after him.

So Hobie tries to calm her down, he's cradling her in his arms, not taking his eyes off her as he murmurs "don't cry, little girl"

Hobie knows he should be helping other people, but he can't, the kid looks so much like him that he doesn't want to leave her alone, he doesn't want anything bad to happen to her.

However, Hobie scoffs at his thought, of course the kid doesn't look like him, he's just tired. And when Hobie finally manages to calm the kid down, he hears a familiar voice. "Rhea! Oh thank god you're fine!" you are in front of him crying, in a frantic state and you don't even seem to realize that your daughter is being held by Spider Punk, her father, no, instead you take her off his arms while you sob happy to have found her safe and sound.

But Hobie is frozen watching the scene; you, the love of her life, whom he abandoned three years ago, holding your daughter while you kiss her cheeks in relief and his heartbeat races 'cause Hobie suddenly seems to figure out why the kid looks like him... It is her daughter. He's dad. "Y/n..." as soon as you hear his voice you hug your daughter as a defense mechanism.

“I gotta go” your voice sounds more serious and your look makes him feel guilty instantly. "Fine, I'll take you two home" he suggests and you frown because you can't believe he has the audacity to just act like everything ended well between the two of you.

"no way, I don't need your help" you are being cold and Hobie understands that; he understands that you hate him 'cause he abandoned you; he abandoned his pregnant girl; the thought of everything you had to go through to take care of his, your, daughter, burns deep inside him.

'cause if he had only stayed then now you and Hobie would be a family and he knows he would be a good father. Yes, being a father is a thought he never had but now, he knows that he would make a good father even a good husband.

"Y/n please" he pleads, he wants to talk, apologize and meet the kid, tell you that he's still loving you, but you don't care what Hobie wants so you pick up your daughter, who hides her face in the crook of your neck. "Stay away Hobart" you tell him and Hobie lets you go, for now.

But you two know that they'll see each other again, 'cause Hobie knows that he has a daughter with you.

[starphasedd]

Ghost makes sure Graves knows his place.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!reader drabble (nsfw)

I'm obsessed with the idea that once Ghost finds out that Graves has a thing for you, he toys with him in the worst way. Because Graves is down bad--and he's a slimey punk. He deserves it.

I did not proofread this. Just pure, unfiltered, smut straight from my noggin.

It was an uncontrollable urge.

Your secret relationship with Ghost had only been full-fledged for a few months. But in those few months--you spent an extraordinary amount of time together. You got to know him better than anyone--he opened up to you. Not much, but more than you'd seen him with anyone else. And the sex? It was fucking incredible.

He got to know your body extremely quickly. Anytime you got to be alone, he had you half naked and buried underneath him. His massive hips smashing forward into yours--his big cock splitting your tiny cunt open. He made you feel so fucking good, any chance he got. He learned your body with expertise you'd never seen before. It wasn't experience-per say. Because he wasn't that sexually experienced. But he was an expert in combat techniques. He was good at analyzing and planning his attacks with a one hundred percent follow-through. He did the same with your body.

He loved the feeling of your core wrapped around him. He loved the sound of your sweet mewls as he wrought pleasure on your body that you'd never felt before. He loved the way your face curled into that same cock-drunk expression--how your glossy lips parted to reveal pearly white teeth as you let every sound slip out naturally.

But he especially loved how your tiny hands frantically grabbed for him--how you'd rather hug him close to you than anything else. There was something so intimate about the way you made love to him. And it drove him wild.

So when he started catching on to Graves--he had to physically contain himself.

On one occasion, he came around a corner to see Graves nearly boxing you in against a table. You had your arms crossed, a blank expression on your face as you tried your best not to snap at him. Ghost knew you had a particular dislike for Graves--you were annoyed by his presence alone. Graves was, again, trying to convince you to go on a date with him.

You and him went way back--all the way to the academy. He's had a thing for you since then. But you never gave him the time or day. And with your growing liking of Ghost, Graves knew his time was limited.

He tried every time he saw you. And you gave him the same response every time. Well, a lack there of, actually. You blatantly ignored him--like he didn't exist. And when Ghost was around, you always gave all your attention to him. Graves was threatened by this, and it showed.

Ghost was so fucking proud of you for this.

He wanted to make a lasting impression. So every night Graves was around, Ghost marked you. The two of you never had loud sex--your relationship was kept private. And Ghost didn't want any other man to have the pleasure of hearing your sweet moans. But he found his ways to mark his territory. He would leave little bite marks on your neck, or fuck you particularly hard so you wobbled a bit the next day. And Graves knew. Fuck yeah, he knew alright.

Graves got more aggressive after that started. He even put his hands on you on one occasion. Ghost's fingers twitched at his side as he watched Graves slide his hand up the curve of your spine. Only to see you pull away and give him a mean look before walking towards Ghost. He couldn't help but grin under his mask.

That night, he fucks you hard. Whispering sweet praises to you in the dark.

"This little cunt belongs to me. Yeah, sweetheart?" He groans in your ear, his thrusts are hard and unfaultering.

All you can do is cry out for him, eyes screwed tightly shut as your hands reach for him. But he isn't there, when you grab for him. You open your eyes to see him leaning up. Now he's sitting up straight on his knees, cock still thrusting into your wet heat as he reaches into his pocket.

He pulls out his phone.

His free hand comes down to lift your shirt over your breasts, revealing the swollen lumps bouncing harmoniously under your black sports bra. He keeps fucking you like this, and the flash from his phone turns on.

It isn't a picture--it didn't flash once. No, he's taking a video.

You blush at the thought--but can't help the sweet moans that tumble from your lips as Ghost keeps fucking you. His free hand moves your panties to cover what he can of your sweet pussy.

You imagine the camera can see his big cock filling you repeatedly, but he only moved your panties to the side this time--not ripping them off per usual. Now you can tell his true intentions.

You thought for a moment this may be for him--but no. If it were for him, he'd have you bare assed like he usually does. No, your important bits are all covered. Your plump breasts are concealed under your bra. The naughtiest part of your cunt is covered by your panties. The only thing he can see is his big cock thrusting into your wet cavern.

He continues recording as he fucks you, and his free hand comes up to slip his thumb into your mouth. You close your eyes, closing your lips around the digit to suck down hard.

"Perfect little minx, just for me, yeah?" He groans out.

The camera light on his phone nearly blinds you when your eyes snap open. You cum hard and he quickly follows after.

You lay there, his cock still burried inside you. He drops his phone, bracing his arms on either side of you as he catches his breath.

"He'll regret the next time he puts his hands on you."

[orpheusdrinkinga40inadeathbasket]

The collective cultural memory of the '60s suggests the decade was a safe haven for male femininity. Long hair on both genders abounds in retellings of the era—the hippie is a soft and shaggy archetype. But most of the imagery now associated with the '60s didn't arrive until the end of the decade. The United States was slow to metabolize shifting gender norms; years after the Beatles were televised into American homes, men could still catch flak for wearing their hair past their collars. "People would chase you for ten blocks, screaming, 'Beatle!' They were out of their fucking minds—that was the reality of the sixties," said artist Ronnie Cutrone. "Nobody had long hair—you were a fucking freak, you were a fruit, you were not like the rest of the world." Trans punk singer Jayne County similarly remembered getting flak in high school for growing her hair out like the Beatles. "I walked all the way [to the record store] and back and every once in a while somebody would yell out their car, 'Sissy!' or they'd yell, 'Look, it's Ringo!' because I had a little Beatles haircut and everything," she said. "Way back in the dark ages, when I was in high school, people still didn't know what gay or queer was or anything like that." That the word "Beatle" could ever have been used as a homophobic slur—that it fit right next to "sissy" in the vocabulary of bigots—seems outrageous by contemporary standards. In retrospect, the Beatles' gender transgressions look as tame as their innocent melodicism. But the Stooges grew up in an environment that punished deviations from normative masculinity, and being bored numb by their surroundings, they sought as much punishment as possible.

Sasha Geffen, Glitter Up the Dark: How Pop Music Broke the Binary

[star-anise]

This is what the fight is like

Sooo, apparently the extremely tenuous and recent nature of the LGBTQ+ community's legal right to exist was not actually super widely known to a lot of people on Tumblr?

Which clarifies some stuff in retrospect. I have so often wanted to grab people by their lapels and shout, "Stop picking on someone for not meeting your entry requirements! We need everyone we can get, you asshole! DON'T YOU KNOW HOW MUCH THEY HATE US OUT THERE?"

Aaaapparently... no, they did not know. Or they knew and were a conservative psyop preparing the ground for our loss of legal rights. Fun times!

So: Look, it is bad. Shit is scary. They really do hate us out there. You're not wrong.

But: This is what we've always fought. This boat we're in with its antique fittings and strange markings on the floor is a battleship. Work has always been going on in the basements, and when shit gets tough, we clear away clutter and roll out the cannons.

I found this chart a couple weeks ago and hung onto it because it felt like the map to my first 25 years on this earth:

[Image description: A graph titled "Same Sex Marriage: Public Polls since 1988." It is from FiveThirtyEight's NYT column. It records the percentage of US Americans polled who would say yes or no to legalizing same-sex marriage, from 1988 to 2011.

The two lines begin with roughly 10% saying yes in 1988, and 70% saying no; the two lines gradually draw closer over the years, until by 2011, the percent saying finally dips under 50%, and the group saying yes makes a tentative reach for the majority. End of image description.]

After some great social change has happened, when everyone has admitted that gay marriage is very cute and Pride is a colourful parade, hooray, people like to pretend that it was just natural and inevitable and happened on its own. People just became less prejudiced! Courts just decided on a case! Governments just passed a law!

In reality, it was a vicious fucking fight, every fucking time. Every fucking where. There are a lot of people who deeply, sincerely believe that a hundred years ago, society had good rules about sex and gender and intercourse and marriage, and that changing those rules has made the world worse. They don't always agree on the specifics, but they can work together far enough to fight anyone with new ideas.

This is why we are a community. Even when we don't have the same experiences of attraction or identity, even when we don't do the same things, even when we have wildly different ideas of a good time. Because when these groups take aim, we're all under fire, and none of us is responsible for why they hate us.

In some ways I think it's a miracle that there seems to be a generation that did not grow up, as I grew up, constantly glued to news reports about What Percentage of Society Hates Us this month. I can't imagine who I'd be if my brain and heart and soul hadn't been tied up, that whole time, in the political question of whether I'd get to dream of a decent future.

I think that it will give us strength to have people who can imagine a world where no one hates us. Who believe in it so strongly they can taste it. That's my prediction: If you didn't know this was coming, you'll be a boon to us, because we have always needed joy so fiercely, in this fight, to keep us going on. We have needed drag queens and punk bands and "her wife" and safe space stickers. Parade floats and wedding days and little dogs with rainbow collars, badges and banners and meetups, because more than anything else we need to fight our own despair, and our fear that the world will never get any better than this.

It will. We know it will. We can taste it.

Look up to the history, organizations, and people who've got us this far for information on what forms of activism will actually advance our political goals. Look to the side to make sure the comrades within reach are keeping their heads above water, and that you're keeping enough joy going to stay alive. Look back to see who's more vulnerable than you are that you might have forgotten or been tempted to leave behind. Look after each other. Look after yourself.

We can do this.

To your battle stations.

[alienpossession]

My stepson is a rather troublesome kid, especially after his mother's passing. He soon dropped out of college, losing the sense of direction he had and just straight out spiralled into a mess. Not to mention that his coping mechanism involved him to hung out with the wrong crowd and start smoking too despite his mother in the past clearly forbid him since he was a prospective star athlete. He also started to grow agitated to the world and overall just disrespect authorities, which included me as the last person that is bold enough to reprimand him while on his way to do his antics

After one of our early morning argument as he arrived back home from clearly a long night he did doing God knows what, he just stormed into his room after giving me a middle finger and cursed under his breath. I decided that enough is enough and I did what I knew best to handle reckless and wild human like that

You see....I was not from this planet. I arrived around 20 years ago into this farmland where I stumbled with this young studly farmer that just about to start his days. I slid into him and never left his body as I decided that I would be safe and undetected as long as I did not slid out of him while the search for me was still active. I was paranoid that if I ever left this body, suddenly the detection system spotted me so I resisted the temptation to leave and remained hidden inside while controlling this human that I cultivated into the best version it could be. But this little punk really pushed me to my limit. I'm just so desperate trying to prove my humanity and ability to disciplined the smaller and younger human I supposedly have authority over, I pushed myself out and slid into the sleeping body of my stepson. Once I slid in, I went straight to his brain and started to work it while he's sleeping soundly with zero awareness that a far more intelligent being is currently rewiring his organ responsible for free thinking into one filled with obedience and submissiveness. I was not necessarily the expert on brain's anatomy but I know which part I should and should not touch. Once I felt like my job has been precisely executed, I slid out of his brain and entered back to my original vessel.

Now, imagine my surprise that not only I made that punk into a more docile and submissive version of himself, I somehow made him gay too as I checked on him after the rework I did to his brain. And I guess I graced the part where he can pick up aroma even more strongly this time and that caused him to be a musk-whore for everything's sweaty and pungent. His obsession to his own pits clearly were a sight to behold as it was a far cry from his womanizer self I have to witness for the past few years he brought home girls to his bedroom.

Aside from his own self, he also loved me. Not the usual familial love, this boy is clearly fucked in the head as he viewed me as some sort of authority to please. It's like him calling me daddy is laced with sexual innuendo rather than the usual way a kid called up his parents. So, like the good father I am and to avoid getting him jumped on me while I sleep as I didn't satisfy his needs, I decided to change our family time where I asked him to have dinner with me to him sniffing my feet and servicing my needs. It's not as cool (and normal human looking) as having him seated next to me watching the TV together or having warm dinners, but that's the way we live nowadays and not like he's complaining anyway.

I guess I really need to do better with all this brain rewiring

[chaoticevilspacewitch]

RWBY Fanfic Recommendation List

Fics that have really struck me, vaguely organized by ship and/or topic.

Bumbleby (Blake x Yang)

first off, basically anything by pugoata. She's the goddess-empress of the Bees. I'm gonna give particular props to Banshee, as it was the first longer fic and AU that I read, and it really opened up my mind to what fanfic could be.

You're a Mountain, Full of Glory - a ski/snowboard with amazing characterization and a closing scene that will live rent-free in my head forever, in a good way.

They Can't Steal the Love You're Born to Find - childhood soulmates repeatedly torn apart and reconnecting, with courtroom drama. One of the most angst-ridden Bee fics I've ever read.

Fucking In Love - pornstar AU that gets right to the sex and slow burns the romance. Hot as hell while also full of tenderness and pining.

Midnight Menagerie - exotic dancer, kinda-cyberpunk dystopia AU. Edges you forever with the sex, earns all the angst tags, and we are majorly trusting @kaelidascope when she promises an amazing happy ending.

Bite Me Like You Love Me - one of the hottest Bee smutfics I've ever read.

You and Me - Blake discovers she's pregnant the day Yang goes MIA on a mission and struggles through being a single mother teaching their child about her amazing other mom. Short, happy ending, amazingly sweet.

WhiteRose (Ruby x Weiss)

The Foxtrot - Ruby and Weiss repair their broken lives after the war. It's one of the most popular RWBY fics of all time for a reason.

Can You See My Strings?/Deja Vu - premium mentally ill Weiss escapes from child abuse angst, with a happy ending if you read the sequel.

But Your Voice Used to Be Mine - Weiss escapes abuse to join RBY's punk band whose smash hit she inspired.

Just One Cigarette - Ruby and Weiss have a little meetup roleplay and it's really good.

Faunus Weiss (generally major themes of struggling with internal and external racism)

Craving the Sky - Weiss has painfully concealed her faunus heritage while she tries to earn her father's love. The support of her team, and the love of Blake and Yang (BeesSchnees) help her soar on her own.

Black Swan Theory - faunus Weiss struggles to recover from child abuse and navigate a deeply racist society while building a relationship with Pyrrha (Schneekos).

Clipped Wings - secret faunus Weiss, dealing with racism and abuse from Jacques, this time slow burning towards Pollination.

Villainesses

Melting Glace - Cinder and Neo find love, and no redemption, in the trauma of failing to destroy Beacon. Will make you cheer for them to win by the end.

Rise from the Ashes - Cinder has a Vader moment and saves Ruby from Salem, and Ruby's pure heart helps her heal, and their adversarial relationship turn to affection. Peak RWBY enemies-to-lovers.

Odds & Ends

The Bermuda Triangle - great modern AU BeesSchnees that gets filthy hot at the end.

Midnight Rose - Summer rescues and adopts Cinder out of Atlas. Their relationship, and Cinder coming to love the Xiao Long-Rose family, is beautifully depicted. Still very much ongoing (no ships as of yet).

Fallen Maiden - Jaune dies protecting Pyrrha at Beacon, and the Fall Maiden power remains split. Will Pyrrha's bloody crusade of vengeance consume her? Or, 'Pyrrha goes full Magneto and fucks Cinder up'.

What's In A Name? - Winter and May grow up together, struggling to cope with their feelings for each other against the background of the Atlas aristocracy.

Red Sky at Night - This excellently-composed fic has a hacked Penny as the primary antagonist of the Beacon arc and builds it to Nuts & Dolts. It captures both Penny's horror at being controlled in her own body and RWBY's fear in fighting a seemingly unstoppable enemy, almost like Terminator vibes, and ultimately takes it to a very sweet relationship.

Linked In Life and Love - I'd be remiss if I didn't mention this one. I really, really love the first act, where Team RWBY sees Blake suffering terribly through a surprise heat cycle and decides that they will all "help" her with it. It's sweet and tender and feels legit for them. I'm not a huge fan of where all the series has gone since, but I would invite anyone to judge that for themselves.

(As I see this getting a decent amount of traffic, I'll just point out that, if it's convinced you [correctly] of my impeccable taste in fanfic, you might want to check out my own RWBY writings)

[thefallennightmare]

Miracle-thirteen

Pairings: Noah Sebastian x Reader

Warnings/Tropes: forced proximity, slight enemies to lovers, slow burn, smut, angst, fluff, mentions of death, and swearing.

Summary: Reader is the merch girl for Bad Omens. It wasn't what she wanted to do with her life but when her mother got sick with Alzheimer's, reader took a job where she could to help with the costs. She thought it would be a one-time gig but the longer she was on the road with them, the harder she fell for Noah Sebastian; even if he wanted nothing to do with her. She needed a miracle to save her mom and her future.

Author Note: Y'all are in for a huge mind fuck in this one.

Tags: @ada-clarence @nonamessblog @thescarlettvvitch @malice-ov-mercy @crimson-calligraphyx @theoneandonlykymberlee @yumikitten @blackveilomens @cherrymedicine13 @thebadchic @notmaddihealy @jay02bo @beaker1636 @jakekiszkasguitarpick @punk-pr1ncessxoxo @er3nslovergirl @iamdesolate @lma1986 @jessitpwk @themodern-daywednesday @writethrough @bngurngheart @dreams-that-are-anwsered @loeytuan98 @omens-in-reverse @loverofagoodbeard @jay02bo @niicoleleigh

This can't be. This is so fucked up. Did he know? Why wouldn't he say something?

My good knee bounced in agitation as I sat in the living area of the tour bus, waiting for the guys to finish up the show. With how much pain I was in any time I walked, Noah told me to rest tonight and not worry about working. I, of course, tried to fight it but when the rest of the guys sided with Noah, I retreated to the bus with a pout. I had the option to hang out on the stage to watch the show but with what I found out from my little internet search, the idea of solace was something I desperately needed. After Noah helped me get comfortable on the bus, he left me with a kiss and a promise he'll be back as soon as the show ended.

I wanted to tell him not to rush because I needed more time to think of how I was going to tell him about my mom especially after what I found out. It wasn't like I could ask my mom about it and asking my dad was obviously a dead end, pun intended.

Well, the man who I thought was my dad.

It wasn't much of an extensive search as I looked up Lincoln, whose last name ended up being Boyle since a Lincoln Keoghan didn't exist. Lincoln Boyle lived in the same state my mom did about twenty-five years ago, right before I was conceived. The internet searched gave me previous address' of his and one of them was right next door to the house I lived in the first few years of my life.

So we were neighbors. Maybe that's why my mom kept remembering him. But there wasn't a photo of him anywhere online which made me pause my research for a little while. Then the thought of who my mom thought Folio was came to mind. She thought he was Jonathan, her husband. According to her, he wasn't welcomed home anymore, and I wasn't his daughter."

I rubbed my tired eyes with a long sigh. "None of this makes sense."

Then a thought hit me like a freight train. I had brought some things from home before coming to the venue tonight, old pictures and photo books. I salvaged the ones my mom didn't destroy and fearing she would while I was gone; I brought them with me. I quickly texted Folio since he wasn't on the bus yet. I knew the show ended because there was a growing group of fans hanging around the metal barricade.

Hey, are my bags from home still in the green room?

A few minutes passed before he responded.

No, someone brought them onto the bus awhile ago. I think they're on the undercarriage.-Folio.

"Shit," I muttered.

I had help to come up the stairs of the bus and even that was difficult. How would I do it by myself?

Don't even think about grabbing them. What do you need?-Folio.

Rolling my eyes, I told him what I needed.

I'll be there in a few. Noah was on his way to you but got held up by some fans outside.-Folio.

I set my phone aside and looked out the window behind me to see Noah talking with the fans and posing for a few pictures. Even if he was smiling and nodding along, I knew he was rushing to get to the bus. He was dressed out of his stage gear to a black t-shirt and a pair of black joggers. Almost as if he felt me watching, Noah turned to the bus and gave me a small wave when he saw me. In return, I smiled before hearing Folio ascended up the stairs of the bus with three different photo albums.

"I wasn't sure which one you needed so I brought all of them," he said while handing them to me.

"Thanks," I automatically knew which one so I set the other two aside.

Folio raised a brow as he sat next to me. "What are you looking for?"

"My mom kept rambling about this guy Lincoln and- I started to explain.

"Johnathan," he cut me off. "She thought I was?"

I briefly looked at him while nodding. "My dad."

Folio let out a low whistle. "You heard what she said, right?"

I had been flipping through the pages when I stopped at his words and let out a breath. "About me not being my dads? Yeah. Trust me, my mind is completely fucked up right now especially after what I found out."

Noticing the look on his face, I filled him in on what I found during my internet research all while continuing to flip through the photo album. While I never looked through this one before, I knew it had pictures of me within my first year of life and as I was reaching the end, I almost gave up hope when my heart sank to the pits of my stomach as I froze. My eyes immediately landed on a picture of my parents and me with a man I'd never seen before. We were all sitting on the couch in our living room. I was on my moms lap, who was sitting in between my dad and the other man. The look on my dad's face showed one emotion; rage.

"Who's that?" Folio asked.

Shrugging, I pulled out the photo and turned it over, hoping they wrote something on the back. Over the years when I looked at the picture, I noticed my mom always described what was going on in the picture. I never thought much of it until recently when I realized she did it because she knew eventually, her brain would forget.

September '98. Me, Johnathan, Y/N, and Lincoln Boyle. I told Johnathan about the affair and about Y/N.

I gasped, finally having a face to the name.

"That's Lincoln," I muttered.

Folio hesitated, unsure how to tread with his question. "Do you think he's your real dad?"

Ignoring him, I placed the picture back into the book before flipping through a few more pages, the pictures only showing either me alone or with Jonathan. Until at the very last page, there was only one picture. My mom, Jonathan, and me standing in front of the house I currently live in; the one where I grew up.

October 23 '99. Y/N's birthday. Jonathan, Y/N, and I in front of our new house. I just came back to them after leaving them for Lincoln. Johnathan said he would only allow me back into Y/N's life if I leave Lincoln behind. Even though Y/N isn't his, Jonathan did a great job raising her the last year. I hope she can forgive me when she's older and knows the truth. James would love to meet her.

Forcing the picture back into the book, I slammed it shut before letting it fall to the floor. Anger radiated throughout every cell of my body as darkness took over my vision.

My own fucking mother left me behind to go be with a man she had an affair with. The same man that was my real dad?

"Y/N?" Folio's voice was soft, not knowing if I would explode any second.

I did, and it was intense.

"What kind of mother leaves their own child behind for some guy?!" I bellowed while raising to my feet. "She missed my first birthday! And who knows what else? Why did she come back? Who the fuck is James?!"

Tears burned in my eyes and I furiously wiped them away. Everything about the last twenty-four hours had been incredibly draining and mentally, I was exhausted.

Folio sat on the couch in front of me. "Didn't she say she only had a son, named James?"

I blinked slowly as his words sunk in and the ones I read on the second picture flashed in my mind like a bright neon sign.

James would love to meet her.

"You think James, if he exists, that he's my brother?" My words came out slowly, almost as if I was trying to process it.

Folio ran a hand through his hair. "According to the pictures, your mom disappeared for a year. Plenty of time to have another kid."

I looked back through the photo album to that picture and now getting a good look at it, I could faintly make out my mom's round stomach. I wasn't an expert, but I'd have to guess she had to be at least five months along in this photo.

So did she make Jonathan believe it was his until he found out the truth? Both kids in their marriage was out of wedlock.

I chuckled darkly when my heart shattered, pieces falling into my stomach. The pain was too much. Finding out the truth about my past had broken all of my trust with my mom.

"She left me behind to go have another family with Lincoln," I said sadly with my eyes cast down at the picture before slowly looking up at Folio. "Why didn't she take me with her?"

That's what hurt the most. My mom left me behind with the man who still raised me as his own after knowing the truth. But Lincoln was my actual dad; did he not want me? She left me behind for a year to start a family with someone else but why did she come crawling back?

Folio went to reach for me when he noticed I was seconds away from a breakdown but I smacked his hand away, the sound echoing throughout the bus.

I scoffed. "The worst part about this entire thing? I can't even fucking ask her about any of it because she doesn't remember a single fucking thing!"

Grabbing the rest of the photo albums, I walked over to the trash can that was hidden under the kitchen sink and tossed them inside. I was so angry that the pain in my knee was forgotten as I gritted my teeth together and stomped over to my phone. Folio must have known what I was about to do because he snatched it right before.

"Folio, give me my phone."

He shook his head. "You said it yourself, Y/N. Your mom can't remember anything. It'd be a waste to get answers from her."

A muscle in my jaw tense as I clenched it, not wanting to turn my anger onto Folio when he didn't deserve it. Suddenly, my phone rang in his hand and when he showed me the screen, Lana was calling me. It was late, almost eleven, but not uncommon for her to call me around this time. However, I was in no mood to talk. To anyone.

I ignored the call and gripped the phone tight in my hand, not missing the look on Folio's face.

"It could be about your mom," he said.

"Fuck her!" I spat; venom laced with every word. "I'm done giving a shit about her or her disease. She lied about my entire life. How do I know she's not lying about her Alzheimer's?"

Alright, I knew she was actually sick, medical proof. But that did nothing to calm the rage within my mind.

"I know you're angry-."

"Angry?!" I snapped. "I'm fucking furious, Folio! She lied to me my entire life. She had every opportunity to tell me the truth before she got sick but she probably thought she was off the hook now. You have no idea the mental load taking care of her this last year was like. When I wasn't working, I was home with her watching her like a hawk so she didn't hurt herself or wander into someone's yard. The night before I left for this tour, I found her standing outside almost naked. I had no idea how long she was out there for and I felt so guilty for letting that happen."

"I did all of that for her no questions asked and rarely complained because she was my mother. And what do I get in thanks? I find out that my dad isn't actually my dad, she left me for a fucking year to start a family with my real dad only for her to ditch him and their son together, who could very well be my brother, before crawling back to us? There's all these questions that I'll never know the answers to because my mom can't remember, Jonathan is dead, there hasn't been a trace of Lincoln anywhere and I don't know if I have the energy to look up James."

Tears were streaming down my face now and I choked out a sob. "I'm so fucking exhausted, Folio. Every time something good happens in my life, I get tossed a shit hand and I have to deal with the outcome alone."

Folio shook his head while standing to his feet. "You're not alone. You've got all of us, especially Noah."

"Noah's too good for me. He doesn't need this train wreck for a girlfriend," I cried.

"Why don't you let me decide that angel?"

Whirling around at the deep voice, I saw Noah standing at the top of the stairs that led up to the bus. His arms were crossed over his broad chest and his lips were pulled tight in a slight frown. He was clearly upset with what he heard but I wasn't sure how much he heard.

"H-ho-w long have you been standing there?" I stammered.

"Since you ignored that phone call," he nodded towards the phone clutched in my hand.

Shit. Mother fucker.

He heard everything.

My lips mimicked a fish out of water as I tried to gather words to say but nothing came out. Thankfully, Folio could feel the sudden tension and spoke for me.

"So you heard everything?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "How long have you known?"

There was a slight edge to Noah's voice, and I adverted my gaze from him, feeling guilty that my decision about whom to confide in was causing a rift between Noah and Folio. This was the last thing I wanted since they were friends long before I came into the picture.

I wasn't worth losing a good friend over.

"He's only known since last night," I spoke up finally finding my voice.

Noah's eyes snapped over to me. "Right, because you called him."

Now I was on the receiving end of his attitude and frankly, I wasn't too keen about it.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Because you didn't answer. I thought we moved past this."

"It seems like every time I find you lately, you're with him," Noah dropped his hands to his sides.

Folio went to say something, but I held up a hand to stop him. The anger that I felt about my mom was now intensifying thanks to Noah's accusatory words.

"Kind of hard not to be around Folio when I work for you guys. There's a simple fix for that; fire me," I said.

Noah's jaw ticked. "No."

I shrugged, the tears now drying to my cheeks. "It's for the best, Noah. I don't want to be the reason you two fight. Folio and I are just friends."

"Man, I'd never do that to you," Folio spoke next. "I know how crazy you are about her. You have been since that first time Davis introduced her to us."

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to be a jealous asshole but I want to be the one you come to with these things, angel," Noah reached for me.

I, however, took a step away from him with a new set of tears brimming in my eyes.

"I think it'll be best for everyone if maybe we ended things before we get too involved."

Noah's face fell. "Angel."

Another step away from him. "You heard what I'm going through. The last thing I need right now is a relationship."

"So, you're going to end this because things got too hard for you to deal with?" he snapped.

"I don't expect you to understand, Noah," my voice wavered. "I wanted this to work, believe me. But I'm not in the right headspace right now. Maybe in the future-."

"Don't fucking bother," Noah spat as he pushed passed me to the bunk area of the bus.

Sniffling, I wiped away the tears and gave a weak smile to Folio.

"For the record, I think this is a stupid idea," he pointed to where Noah was. "He'd be willing to do whatever it took to make you happy, Y/N."

"I tried to tell him that maybe down the road but he blew me off. Fuck him." I said with a bit more confidence than I was feeling.

With a defeated sigh, Folio motioned to the door of the bus.

"Come on. I'll help you grab your things. The crew bus hasn't left yet."

"Thanks Folio," I muttered.

I didn't bother to look over my shoulder but maybe if I did, I would have seen Noah go to throw something in the garbage only to end up pulling out my photo books.

[whatdoeseverybodywant]

Rebuild & Restore - Chapter 4

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS

Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤

All OC Characters belong to me

Joe grunted as his text message to Kiyana went unanswered for another day. “Gotta be Josh’s punk ass.” He muttered, throwing his phone onto the couch next to him. It’s been six months since he had Kiyana in his bed and he was feening for more. 

He closed his eyes and let his head fall back as he remembered how tight she felt wrapped around him. How intoxicating her moans sounded as she moaned in his ear . “Fuck” He whispered as he felt his pants grow tighter. He groaned and opened his eyes. “Fuck.” he muttered again, grabbing his phone and sending Kiyana another text message.

“Baby, when the last time you had some dick?” Kiyana choked on her lunch and glared at Samara as she reached for her cup of soda. 

“Girl what?” Kiyana asked. Samara shrugged. 

“You so wound up. That’s exactly what we’re doing this weekend. Getting you some dick.. Grade A dick.” 

“Can you stop saying dick?!” Kiyana hissed. “I do not need any of my coworkers over hearing this conversation.” Kiyana looked around, grateful that they were seated towards the back of the cafeteria and only one person was near them but he had on headphones. Samara had shown up to the hospital on Kiyana’s first day to have lunch with her and to hear about her day out with Josh and the boys. 

“I’m just saying.” Samara shrugged again with a smirk on her face. “Last person you had sex with was Joe, right?” Kiyana nodded. 

“Oh speaking of Joe. He texted me again.” 

“Did you respond?” Kiyana shook her head and Shrugged. 

“What was I supposed to say?” 

“Oh, big daddy Joe. I need you and that dick.” Samara said playfully, batting her eyelashes at Kiyana and laughed loudly, ducking the french fry that Kiyana threw her way. 

“Sorry to interrupt.” Kiyana and Samara looked towards the person and both of their jaws dropped open causing him to laugh a bit.  “I just wanted to introduce myself.” He said, his eyes never leaving Kiyana’s.  “I’m Elijah but everyone calls me Eli. You the new labor and delivery nurse right?”  Kiyana nodded, her mouth going dry when he flashed her a grin. “Nice to finally meet you. See you around.” He said, giving her a nice once over before biting his lip and walking away from them. 

“Fuck what I said about Joe.”  Samara said, eyes wide as she and Kiyana watched Elijah walk away from them. “If you don’t ride that man six ways to Sunday… I will.” 

Josh let out a growl when he saw Shanté waiting outside by his rental. He knew it was too good to be true. He could have swore her crazy ass had got sent back down to NXT but here she was, wearing a customized YEET shirt that had “MRS. USO” on the back. 

“Bruh, you trippin’” He muttered. Standing as far away from her as possible. “Whatchu want?” He looked around to see if there were any lingering fans around. He did not need any picture of him and Shanté hitting social media. 

“I miss you.” She pouted and Josh rolled his eyes. “C’mon Josh. Those four months meant something to you too.” 

“I didn't,” he said bluntly. “We had sex that’s it.” Shante rolled his eyes not believing what he was saying. 

“Josh, come on! You were so mad that I went out with Theory.” 

“Nah” He shook his head., “I was mad that Kiyana was being a bitch and refusing to bring the boys to see me because we were fighting and I took it out on you. I don’t give a damn about you and Austin.”  Shante furrowed her eyebrows. 

“What?”

Josh sighed. “It was nothing but sex Shanté. Yeah I said some shit that I shouldn’t of said. But I never wanted to be with you.” He shrugged, not caring if it came off mean. He was sick and tired of popping up everywhere. “It was just sex.” He repeated, and as expected Shanté marched up to him and smacked him in his face.

“I’m happy Kiyana divorced you, you piece of shit” She glared at him before ripping her shirt over her head and throwing it in a nearby trash can. Not caring that she was now walking around in her bra. 

“You and everyone else.” He muttered before climbing into his rental and driving towards the hotel. 

Kiyana fell backwards onto her bed. She was beyond exhausted. She closed her eyes and sighed. She would have to get used to this feeling, no longer a stay at home mom or a wife. She was almost asleep when he phone dinged with a notification, 

ElijahDaniels has requested to follow you. 

Kiyana bit her lip as she scrolled through his instagram account.

This man was too fine for his own good. She accepted his follow request and immediately received a DM from him. 

ElijahDaniels: those your kids? They look just like u.  KiyanaJackson_: yeah and thank you, lol. You’re the only person to ever say that.  ElijahDaniels: i aint know you was married tho. Tell you husband my bad lmao.  KiyanaJackson_: divorced actually.  ElijahDaniels: good KiyanaJackson_ good? Lol ElijahDaniels: yeah, now i can get to know u better.  ElijahDaniels: see u tomorrow ❤️

Mr Elijah Daniels MD 😉... our girl KiKi is back in the game!

(Joe is coming, i promise.)

Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤

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[the-kr8tor]

i wanna request for fluff friday!

i was very into mushroom these days, can i request mushroom hunting with hobie? hunting and study them a little (the reader brought a mushroom guide book)

Hi, angel! Thank you for the adorable request! A bit of a disclaimer I don't know anything about mushrooms so I researched a bit for this fic! So sorry if it's not accurate tho hope you like it ❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x gn! Reader/ Spider-Punk x gn! Reader

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, Fluff.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

"Is this what you're lookin' for, lovey?" Hobie calls you over from his crouched spot. The tall trees provide shade for your mushroom hunting. The cloudy sky and cold autumn air makes the hunt more comfortable for the two of you.

Dry leaves crunch under your hiking boots, carefully walking over to him, avoiding any obstacles that might trip you over.

"Lemme see!" You excitedly bend at your waist, eyes scanning the soil for a red and white mushroom top. "Oh, good eye, but that's not the fly agaric" you fully crouch next to him, taking out your trusted book of mushrooms, the edges are frayed, cover fading, a sign that it's well read and well loved. "Look, you found a puffball"

Pointing at a picture on a page that you didn't have to look at the index to search for, the white mushroom on the paper is a direct copy of what grows right in front of you. It clings right on the foot of a large tree, stark white, its spherical head adorable to look at. Hobie leans towards you, cheek to cheek, looking at the page.

"Puffball" Hobie repeats the name like he's memorizing a word from a different language. "Is it edible? Looks like it" even though the information is laid out on the page, he asks, knowing you like talking about your hobby. It doesn't hurt that he loves hearing your voice.

"You're right," you lean into his warm cheek, "it's edible. I don't know how to prepare it though"

"Let's take some, we'll figure it out together" Hobie plucks a few mushrooms gently, he puts them inside your wicker basket, the first of many specimens for you to study or eat apparently.

"You're right" you smile fondly, standing up, helping him carry the basket even though he doesn't need it. Hobie appreciates it nonetheless, you both carry the same handle, sort of like holding his hand in a way. "Cooking it is probably the same as the store bought ones"

"Not poisonous though, right?"

"Nope, it's fine to eat. If it makes you feel better I'll take the first bite" you smirk at him. Walking in step with him.

"My hero" you giggle at his comment. "Eugh, what is that?" Hobie stops mid-step, for a second you thought he's making fun of your laugh, but of course he wouldn't do that so you follow his line of sight. He stares at reddish brown mushrooms growing on a decaying tree trunk.

You gasp, skipping over to the dead tree, you inadvertently pull Hobie along. "Jelly ears! I Knew it!" Stopping right in front of it, you practically bounce in excitement. "They're early this year" you mumble to yourself.

"They do look like ears" he narrows his eyes at the wavy mushroom. Its gelatinous texture makes him feel icky inside.

"They're edible too!"

"Love, I love and support you but absolutely not, 'm not eating something that looks like that. 'm not a picky eater but fuck that"

You laugh loudly, the sound echoing off in the woods. "Okay, let's not eat them" letting go of the basket, you take his other hand instead, turning him away from the goosebumps inducing sight. "Come on you big baby. We're losing daylight"

"We've got plenty of time to find your fly agaric" Hobie rubs the back of your hand comfortingly, tracing circles over the smooth skin.

Your heart increases tenfold. "You remember the name"

"'Course I did, remember how it looks too. Red mushroom top with white spots, right?"

You let go of his hand to his dismay but you remedy it immediately with a half embrace. Face squished atop his upper arm, arms enveloping him completely. "Thank you for coming with me" nuzzling your nose over his hoodie, you let your actions talk for you.

"I take it 'm right?" He chuckles, arms trapped under your hug, he has an immense need to embrace you back. "D'you think I'd let you go alone in the woods? What if the fae gets you, huh?"

Your voice is muffled by his jacket, Hobie does all the work in guiding you both further into the woods. "I'll them I'm taken"

With his arms stuck to his sides, He could only manage to move his neck down to kiss the top of your head, he's sure there's a crick in his neck. Hobie doesn't mind though.

"Let's find Mario's mushroom" you guffaw loudly in reply.

[a-killer-obsession]

Bite [Killer x Reader]

🔞 Minors DNI 🔞

Killer pisses you off, and you go on the attack.

CW: violence, bloodplay, femdom, sub!killer, vaginal sex, oral (m recieving), marking, pain kink, praise, restraints,, hate fuck, aftercare

WC: ~4k

Masterlist || A03

The seas were calm today as the Victoria Punk made its way through unfamiliar waters, following the log pose to a new, mysterious island on the Grandline. There wasn't much to do on afternoons like this, chores had already been completed and there was no rush to help with making resupply lists, the next island still being several days away at least, if the wind kept this pace. The air was perfect for sitting out on the deck, the sun not too harsh or hot, but just warm enough to be comfortable, with a cool refreshing breeze that ruffled your hair slightly. It was the perfect opportunity to fill the time with one of your favourite hobbies. 

So here you sat, back against the railing as you scribbled in your leather-bound sketchbook, alternating between drawing from life and drawing from memory. You'd been doing this for an hour or so but were growing bored of the subjects you had in front of you, so you recollected yourself to move to a slightly different spot. You made your way up the stairs of the rear cabin, parking yourself on a barrel near the front rail. From here you could see a great deal of the ship, from the main deck stretching out to the front raised platform and the top of the large dinosaur skull that encompassed the bow of the Victoria. 

Sat upon the skull you found a new subject, who sat with his scarred side facing you, staring out to the portside to watch a passing group of flying fish as they followed and danced in the rippling waves caused by the movement of the ship. From this angle you had a perfect side profile of him, the silhouette of his mask making a clean cut against the blue, gently clouded sky that was laid out in front of the ship. 

Pencil to paper, you diligently worked at sketching him, his grand mane of hair posing a particular challenge that you relished in. You enjoyed capturing the way the light bounced off his helmet, and the texture of his scarred arm. With the values blocked out, you lost yourself in the shading, your tongue poking out just a tiny bit from the corner of your mouth as you rested the lead of your pencil on an angle against the page to cover more surface with a soft layer of graphite. The drawing was coming out well, you were growing quite proud of it in fact, you thought you may even gift him the drawing afterwards if it continued to go this well. 

In your focus you didn't even notice him move, nor the way he silently stalked towards you, alerted to your staring by his observation haki. Killer didn't like being watched, and he certainly didn't appreciate you drawing him without permission. It made him uncomfortable to be perceived with such detail, even if the drawing was quite good. It almost made him feel bad for what he was planning to do. 

“What are you doing?” His baritone startled you out of your focus and you audibly gasped. 

“Uh, I'm uh, drawing,” you stuttered, and held your book up for him to see, “do you like it?”

You were very proud of your drawing, but it was impossible to gauge Killer's reaction past his mask. You hoped his silence was because he was so stunned with your incredible artistic skills. He made it pretty clear what he thought though when he grabbed your sketchbook quite roughly, yanking it from your hands and throwing it off the side of the ship. You rushed to the railing to save it, just in time to watch your precious, very expensive, sketchbook sink under the waves, gone forever. 

You gripped the railing hard enough to hear a slight crack as your vision went red. You were a Kid Pirate, so of course not only were you incredibly strong - you also had some serious anger issues. Killer had already started to leave when you turned and rushed at him. He began to scoff, ready for you to yell at him and to bite back at you that drawing was a wasted skill for a pirate if you weren't going to use it for maps. He certainly didn't expect the swift kick to the dick he received instead, nor the kick to the head that followed and knocked him down as you took advantage of him bowing in pain from the first kick. He cursed himself for not expecting or readying himself for physical violence, he should have known better, and in his smug confidence had left himself open for attack. 

He fell to the deck on his side, slightly curled in on himself as he grabbed at his sore groin. You'd kicked him pretty fucking hard both times, and he was dizzy from it. Before he had time to recover you jumped on top of him, forcing him to roll to his back and hovering over him with your knees planted either side of his hips. You were still seeing red, instincts guiding you as you unleashed your fury upon him, and right now your instincts were telling you one thing - go for the fucking jugular. 

You bent and zeroed in on his exposed neck, sinking your teeth into it till you tasted iron on your tongue. He groaned under you, trying to push you off, but you clamped him with your strong thighs and sunk your teeth in deeper, one hand wound hard through his long hair and pulling at it. You swore you heard him whine as you withdrew your teeth and sunk them in again at a slightly different spot, marking his neck over and over again. 

There was a quiet whimper from inside his mask, a sound entirely unexpected from the Massacre Soldier, and it sent electricity straight to your core, triggering a different kind of instinct. You lowered yourself, resting against him while you still straddled him, his hands finding your waist and his hips pressing up against you. Your eyebrows raised as you released his neck from your teeth - his clothed erection made it clear, he was enjoying this. 

You growled against his neck, you weren't sure if it was possessive or a warning, running your tongue over the bleeding bite marks along his exposed neck before sinking back in, gentler this time, more playful. You rolled your hips, grinding your clothed core against him, eliciting a deep groan from him as he raised to meet you. 

“Fucking hell, what the fuck is happening here?” the captain spoke up beside you. Neither of you had noticed his heavy footsteps approaching, your mind swimming in lust and rage. You looked up at him with a feral growl that sent a shiver down his spine, your eyes almost black with how blown out your pupils were. Killer's blood was dripping down your chin and coating your teeth as you barred them at Kid, his eyes widening at the way you looked right through him like he was nothing. He looked down at Killer, laid out on his back, panting slightly as blood dripped from the many marks you'd made on his neck. It was not often someone got the better of Killer, even less common was letting himself show any hint of lust in a public setting. You were, afterall, both out on the deck for all to see. The first mate tried to move, and you pushed down against him, growling in clear warning. 

“Christ, she got you good Killer,” Kid barked out a laugh, “get a fucking room though, you’re getting blood on the deck” 

You blinked a little in realisation as you came to your senses. Looking down at Killer you realised how precarious this situation was, but you'd had a taste of power over him, and you didn't feel like giving it up, not while your core ached with need from the hot, heavy encounter. You grinned down at him, and he shivered at the dark look in your eye, before you stood quite suddenly and pulled him up by the front of his shirt. You didn't let go of it as you dragged him, the blue fabric balled tight in your hand. He probably could have fought back, but in his daze he chose not to as you dragged him towards his own room, Kid roaring with laughter behind you as you both disappeared under deck, unbelievably surprised and amused at how you'd tamed his friend. 

The door to Killer's cabin was unlocked, as it always was. You'd never been in here but that was the point, nobody dared enter his room, so he had no need to lock it. You pulled him inside, slamming the door shut behind you and locking it before turning back to him. You shoved him backwards towards the bed, sinking your nails into the fabric of his t-shirt and showing off your strength by tearing it open, before giving him a hard shove so he fell back against the bed. His legs still hung over the side, his bare chest heaving as you climbed over him and clamped your hand around his neck, forcing him up further on to the bed as you shifted with him, from the threat of suffocation if he didn't move. 

“Stop me any time, Massacre Soldier,” you whispered at the side of his mask before running your tongue shamelessly over the front of it, following the blue stripe that ran up the centre. Killer only groaned in reply, raising his hips off the mattress in a desperate attempt to find friction. 

“I don't.. want you… to stop,” he wheezed between heavy breaths.

“No?” You purred, “you gonna be a good boy for me then?” Your teeth ran over his neck where his skin remained sensitive from your earlier bites, making his hips buck. You pressed back down against him, forcing him to still. You were making it clear to him that you were in charge here.

“Y-yes..” he stuttered. You sat up while you still straddled him, untying the light blue sash he wore around his waist and pulling it from underneath him. 

“Give me your wrists,” you commanded. He obeyed willingly, holding them together in front of you. You looped the sash around them several times, binding them together, before pulling them up over his head to secure against the headboard. He groaned under you, trying to roll his hips up against you as you hovered slightly to reach the headboard, your breasts hanging above his face. He pulled experimentally at the fastening, you'd bound him tight, probably too tight, but it was purposeful - you hadn't forgotten how mad you were. This was, at its core, a hate fuck, but Killer wasn't in the headspace to deny you. He'd never been bound or dominated by a woman like this before, and it had him in a needy haze. He was ready to get on his knees and worship you, should you ask him to. 

Satisfied with your work, your teeth returned to his neck, nipping and sucking, leaving more marks and licking over them. Your mouth made its way further down, leaving a trail of bruises and teeth marks down his chest, over his pecs and abs, rubbing his hardened nipples between your teeth in turn and tugging at them. One hand supported your weight next to him, the other slid down to his groin, still tender from your earlier kick, and you palmed him over his jeans. He groaned as you stroked him teasingly, running your finger over the tip where his precum was beginning to soak through the fabric. 

“Mmm, so eager for me,” you mumbled against his chest, “you love me marking you that much baby?”

Killer writhed under you, desperate for more, desperate to be inside your wet heat. His cock throbbed, whether from arousal or pain from earlier, he wasn't sure. Both, probably. You sat up again, taking in the rare delicacy of the dangerous Massacre Soldier, marked up and powerless underneath you, begging for you to do more. You bit your lower lip as you trailed your hands over his torso, feeling the hard, well sculpted muscles, watching him fight against the sash that kept him from touching you. Your deft fingers finally found the closure to his jeans and freed him, his thick cock springing free as he lifted his hips so you could pull down his pants and boxers. 

“Look at you, already spilling out for me,” you purred as you ran a fingertip through his precum and spread it over the head, “so desperate for me, such a mess for me” 

Killer practically whined as you wrapped a hand around his base and dipped your head to lick a wide stripe along the underside. The headboard threatened to break as you finally took him in your mouth, bobbing your head and stroking what you couldn't take yet of his impressive length. You let him slide further into your throat, breathing through to your nose to repress your gag reflex, taking him deeper and deeper till you could bury your nose in his soft blond pubs. He groaned as you swallowed around him, pulling away and releasing him to take a much needed breath. 

“Fuck… please… fuck,” he could barely form a coherent sentence, the way you had him lost in his lust. 

“Please what baby?” you purred, still fully dressed as you crawled back over him. You ground your clothed pussy against him while you watched him with a coy smile, his mask tilting back against the bed and his hands tugging at the restraints uselessly. “Use your words, Massacre Soldier” 

“Fuck me, please,” he whined, “please”

“Why should I?” You lent over to speak right next to where his ear would be under the mask, your fingers trailing down his torso, your centre raised to deny him any friction. “You really pissed me off, you know? That sketchbook was fucking expensive, and full of some of my best work. Why the fuck would I give you what you want?” you growled, digging your nails into his chest till they broke skin. His chest jolted at the sudden pain, but his dick twitched in response as well. 

“I'm sorry… please… I'll replace it,” he tried his best to press up against you, but you continued to hover just out of reach, “please, I'm sorry, please just fuck me, please”

“Mmm…” you mumbled, sitting on his thighs and running a fingertip along his needy cock, “you're so cute when you beg…” 

You stood up and stripped your clothes, before straddling him again, this time sitting against his abdomen. You leaned back and spread your legs wide, and his mask lifted and tilted towards you, trying his best to see your naked pussy. It was glistening with arousal and you started to touch yourself, playing with your clit the way you knew you liked best before dipping your fingers inside yourself. He grunted as he watched you play with yourself on top of him, salivating as he caught your scent. 

“Is this what you want, Killer?” you dipped a third finger inside yourself, spreading yourself open and removing your fingers occasionally so he could see your hot hole gape. He cursed the damn mask, and the restraints, wishing he could tilt just a little further up, close enough to run his tongue over you and bully it inside your pussy. He wanted to taste your release, feel it coating his chin and soaking his goatee. 

“Yes, fuck, please,” he moaned, “please, please” 

You dipped your fingers inside yourself, before removing them and sliding down Killer's body. Your slick coated his cock as you thread your glistening fingers under the brim of his mask, till you found his soft lips. He eagerly allowed you access, moaning as he sucked your slick off your fingers and ran his tongue over them. You let them drag back out, running his saliva down the front of his neck, leaving a trail that felt cool as the air breezed over it. 

“You've been such a good boy for me,” you purred, your pussy sliding up and down his hard length, “but if you cum without my permission, I will flay you. Do I make myself clear?” You ran your nails down his front, leaving a deep set of scratches to drive home your threat. His body rolled underneath you in response.

“I'll be so good, I promise,” he groaned as he tried his best to roll his hips in just the right way to catch his tip against your entrance, failing each time as you purposely shifted just as he would have had it, “please let me inside you, please” 

This time as he rolled his hips, you rolled too, letting his cock catch against you and slide inside. He cried out as his cock buried inside you, and you pushed down, taking his whole length and moaning at the way he stretched and filled you. He was panting hard, doing everything he could to not immediately cum, so worn already from your teasing. 

You began your motions, raising and lowering yourself with strong legs, moaning as you used him for your own pleasure. You couldn't care less about what he wanted, you were using him like he was nothing but a toy, existing only for your pleasure, fucking yourself on him so he hit every delicious spot inside you. You admired his body as you fucked him, observing every dark, inflamed mark you'd left on his skin, strings of now drying blood leaving trails over him from some of the deeper marks. Teeth prints and half moons from nails and long, deep scratches. It would take days, maybe even weeks, for some of the marks to heal, and in the meantime everyone would know that this was your doing. You were the one who tamed the first mate of the Kid Pirates, the supernova, the man who was now moaning and writhing underneath you as you took your selfish pleasure from him. 

You threw back your head as the dirty thoughts of him belonging to you drove you to your edge, and you ground down hard against him, shaking as you came hard. As soon as your orgasm was done, you pulled off, letting him slip from inside you. He cried out as soon as he felt the cool air on his slick covered cock, his own orgasm having been so, so close. 

“NO, fuck, PLEASE,” he cried out as he desperately tried to bury himself back inside you. You almost laughed, he looked so needy and pathetic like this. His cock twitched helplessly and you ran a cruel finger up the sensitive underside before wrapping your hand around the base. 

“Beg for it,” you growled. 

“Please let me cum, please, please,” he was practically whimpering and it fueled your already massive ego. You wondered how far he'd go, letting him have one slow stroke, before stiling your hand at the end and running your thumb through the pre on his tip. 

“Who do you belong to?” You purred, running your thumb in circles as he tried his best to thrust up into your hand. 

“You, you, only you, please,” he whined, “please let me cum”

“Do it yourself,” you growled, sliding him back inside you but making no effort to move, “show me how bad you want it”

He wasted no time in planting his feet and driving up into you, fucking you with a messy, furious pace, desperately chasing his high. Your head was thrown back again as you moaned, enjoying his thick cock pistoning inside you. 

“Fuck, I'm gonna come again,” you moaned.

“Cum for me, please,” Killer replied between heavy breaths, putting all the strength in his legs in to fucking you as hard as he could without the use of his hands, “cum with me”

“Fuck-” you whined, “Killer-” 

You let out a deep, carnal moan as your legs began to shake, and Killer followed suit, his groan long and deep as he finally found his release inside you, doing his best to keep moving despite how oversensitive he was now, trying to be good for you and work you through your orgasm. He finally stopped as you dropped your weight on him, your head slumped against his chest as you both panted. 

You stayed like that for a few minutes, catching your breath, before coming back to reality and raising yourself off him. He sighed as you let him slip out of you, his release dripping on to his pubes as you hovered over him to unfasten the restraints. His wrists were red and raw from fighting against them, and you felt a pang of guilt, knowing full well that you'd made them too tight in your anger. You took his hands tenderly and brought them to your mouth, kissing each wrist gently where the marks looked the most painful. 

Looking down at the rest of him, more guilt followed, seeing how injured you'd left him. You knew he'd enjoyed it, but many of the wounds had been made in anger, and you felt bad now for marking him so badly over something replaceable. You leaned over him and he made soft, surprised breaths as you kissed down his front, starting at the bites on his neck and working your way down, leaving tender kisses over his wounds. 

“Stay here,” you mumbled, sliding off the bed and going to the door you assumed led to his bathroom. He obediently stayed where you left him, still in a daze, confused a little as to what had even transpired. 

You went to the toilet and cleaned yourself up quickly, before finding a hand cloth and dampening it with warm water. You returned to the bed, kneeling next to him, pressing the cloth gently to his skin to clean off the blood and sweat, and all the other fluids that had ended up over his torso and thighs. Satisfied with your work, you returned to the bathroom, discarding the cloth in a laundry basket and filling the glass that sat by the sink with water. You noted that there was no straw, which made sense. This was his room, he probably didn't usually wear his mask in here, so no straw was usually required. 

You brought the glass to the bed, and he sat up against the headboard as you handed it to him, before turning away to give him privacy. “I won't look,” you assured him, “but you really should drink some water after the amount of blood and sweat you lost”

You heard him make a soft hum, followed by a small metallic click of his mask unlatching and the gulping of water. The mostly empty glass was placed on the side table, and you felt the mattress shift as he moved behind you. His arms wrapped around your waist, holding you carefully, his warm chest pressed against your back, his bare face resting in the crook of your shoulder where you still couldn't see him. 

“I'm sorry,” he sighed, “I shouldn't have thrown your book in the water like that. I'll get you another, an even nicer one. I'm sorry about your drawings though, I know I can't replace those”

“I'm sorry too,” you admitted, “I know you're self conscious, I should have asked before drawing you” 

“You don't have to ask next time,” his breath was leaving hot, damp spots on your skin as he spoke, his thumbs rubbing reassuring circles on your waist, “the drawing was really good, I'd like if you drew me another” 

“Yeah?” you perked up, surprised. 

“Yeah, I'm sorry for overreacting,” he pressed soft kisses against your neck and you moaned, your head tilting to give him access, “you're so hot when you're angry though” 

“Ass,” you pouted, “I'm always hot, you're just blind” 

“I'm not blind,” he hummed, “I just… I didn't think you wanted me. Like this I mean.”

“Well then you must be blind,” you hummed, “I've been flirting with you for years, dumbass”

“Oh..” 

“Idiot,” you tsked, then quieted as you sat deep in thought. All these years of unrequited feelings, and it turns out he was just oblivious. “Killer… can I see you?” 

He was silent for a moment as he thought about it, before finally coming to a resolution, “Only if I can taste you again"

You giggled a little at his words, before eagerly turning in his arms to observe his beautiful face and blue eyes for the first time. He gave you a few moments to look at him, before making good on your side of the deal and capturing your mouth with his, lost to a new wave of need and lust. 

[bigfan-fanfic]

The Clinic (Male!Reader x Mafia!Bucky and Steve)

Requested by @jayfeather965 for Your response to the captain and batdad ask has my creative juices flowing. The captain and iron arm Barnes are equal partners in a mafia, lovers and stuff. But then one of them, Bucky or Steve gets shot and separated from from the gang. Ends up going to a street clinic, with doctors who don’t ask questions. And naturally he’s fascinated by the doctor who helps him but calls him out for his arrogant attitude and takes no nonsense. Could you write a long story on this? Lmk please

Trigger warning blood, crime, mob au, etc.

"Babe."

"Yeah, boss?"

"You're thinking about him, aren't you?"

The Captain grips Barnes' chin in his fingers, tilting up his face. Barnes knows better than to resist.

Barnes is shirtless, the bandages wrapped around his chest and over his shoulder where he had been shot. His cheekbones still have the stitches in them.

The Captain is impeccably dressed, their states incongruous.

"What can I say, pal? It's hard to find a man that ain't afraid of me."

The Captain lets go, grabs the tumbler of whiskey in Barnes' hand, and tosses it aside.

It shatters in the fireplace and the alcohol makes the fire burst in a roar, but neither man hears it, because they are locked in a bruising, harsh kiss.

Barnes' hands frame the Captain's waist as the big man straddles him, clutching Barnes' face, his thumb brushing over the not-quite-healed gash in a way that is painful, but also grounding.

Cap growls, knowing that even with the pretext of healing, another man has touched what is his.

Only Barnes has been able to calm the raging beast inside him, this thing that makes him the most feared boss in the city, The Captain, and his iron right hand, Iron-Arm Barnes.

But maybe he's too hard. Like a callus that grows from overuse and dulls sensation. Maybe this sawbones has a tender touch Barnes has been missing.

For his part, Barnes has always been given to obsession. If the Cap had never had that growth spurt and hit the gym like a train crash, Barnes knew he'd have taken him. The little punk would be his precious little pet instead of his boss. But they would be together no matter what.

For Barnes, his blood wasn't his own, it flowed in the Cap's veins. So there wasn't a question of loving instead. They were parts of the same organism.

Barnes remembers you.

He dragged himself to your clinic after being shot, after his men had gotten away and he had been left for dead.

It's attractive, he won't lie, to see a man cool in a crisis. You get him on a table, strip him of his dirty and bloodstained clothes without a hint of lust or a sneak at his body, and you get to work picking shrapnel out of sensitive areas and stitching him up.

Barnes waits for a while after he wakes up post-op, knowing that he's not at full strength, before he reaches for his gun.

And you slip it out of his reach.

"No guns in my clinic."

"Do you know who I fucking am, sweetheart?"

"I don't care who you are. Bullets left at the door, or I let you bleed out on the floor."

"So much for the damn Hippocratic Oath."

"Fuck you. I have my license, and I don't ask questions. So maybe lose the attitude."

"Touché, sweetheart."

"Wipe that grin off your face. You lost a lot of blood."

"You gonna pump me full of morphine?"

"Bold of you to assume we have that kind of funding. The bullet passed through you clean. We're gonna need to change your bandages regularly for the next ten hours or so, and you're out of commission the next six weeks, at least."

"Really? I feel like a million bucks. A million bucks with a big hole in it."

You shake your head and take his gun, locking him in the room behind you.

"You gonna call the cops?"

Nope. That's not what you did.

"Name's Bucky."

You didn't tell him yours.

He talks incessantly, you answer some questions, remain silent for others

By the time the next morning rolls around, he's head over heels. "You're a shithead, Bucky. I don't wanna see you in here again, OK?"

He can hear the concern in your voice. You don't want him injured like that again. There's a connection there. A dangerous man, the battlefield angel.

And now he wants. And he wants his other half to want too.

They break their steamy kiss. It was a claiming, but Barnes is already owned.

"You still love me?"

"To the end of the line, pal. Never a question."

"You want the sawbones?"

"I'm yours, punk."

"Not what I asked."

"I want him."

"Then you'll have him."

"We."

The Cap grins. "I never met a guy with more heart. You think I have it in me to not get murderously jealous?"

Barnes kisses him. "Stevie, you're gonna be as head over heels as me. We're a team."

"I don't get you, pal, but I love you more than life."

"Then let's get us a sawbones."

[hoardlikegoldenirises]

This is Peter's "move your arm before I kill you" face 😄 aka his "I only agreed to stand here to make my aunt happy and would rather be anywhere else" face.

EDIT: decided to change the eyeshine color lol

closeups and a bonus doodle below:

say cheeeeese!!! (left to right: flash, janine, aracely)

I realized while drawing this that I accidentally put the boys in left-to-right order from least- to most-fucked up face 😂 Ben and his perfect nose 🙄🤣 IDK what he's saying but probably something engineered specifically to make Peter mad.

He's smiling. 🙂💢 See? Busted nose. Turns out I also put them in order of "least to most traumatized," now that I think about it... Peter is a little less uptight by 2016 but... only a little. He might even not be wearing the costume under his clothes.

I know you're probably thinking "how the fuck is Ben less traumatized than Peter?" but in this case it's true. Ben is the most well-adjusted of them all. Comparatively.

Kaine is definitely wearing his costume under his clothes. Head to toe coverage, no skin except face and hands basically ever. When I sat down to sketch this pic this morning I realized that he probably doesn't like having his picture taken, because he has very bad self-esteem (understatement) and lots of scars, but probably also for Warren reasons, as essentially an ex-lab specimen. So he's hiding.

His hair would be in the process of growing back out from a buzzcut, if it's November 2016... so a bit longer than his shoulders, most likely.

If it wasn't like, May's idea to take the pic and Janine w/ the camera Kaine would not be tolerating this. He'd either leave or break the camera LOL but... if May wants a pic... he can at least pretend to be in it.

Miss Maybelle... The only one in the pic who doesn't have anything weird going on (ah, her strange nephews and their strange eyes). She has an O2 tank though. Her lungs are not very strong after 2012 because ummmm... Kaine stabbed her in the chest. (He apologized, it's fine 😓😅)

Ben's tan lines 😂 peter has 'em too but Peter is all covered up obv. Peter's neck tan line is actually way higher up though, because his costume has a higher neckline so he has to wear higher collars/scarves/whatever even if he rolls the neck down. But (not pictured) Peter's arms are more tan than Ben's because Ben's Scarlet sleeves are longer than Peter's Spidey sleeves. Obv Ben isn't wearing (the top of) his costume in this pic though. and they can both roll the sleeves up anyway.

That's the watch Peter got May for her birthday in 2007 btw. Actually the color is wrong because I didn't bother to check my own #lore but also because I almost forgot to color it at all (lol whoops) so I was just like. It's purple, I remember that much. But the strap is supposed to be "pale violet linen."

I also almost forgot to draw Peter's wedding band entirely 😂 Luckily I remembered! lol

Kaine is wearing a kilt, by the way (over jeans or leggings or something probably... well, maybe not leggings if his costume is underneath...) My goal is for him to find a different way of expressing his masculinity. related to why i am sticking to pink for his theme color (for costume etc.) and letting him grow his hair back out. I think he probably has some genders going on but not in the way that Flash has. He's not a girl. More like he wants to be nothing at all... null gender... etc... but also he doesn't have the language for that and would likely push back against it because of the way he was treated by Warren and the issues he has with like. personhood and manhood... but experimenting with (expensive) clothing is a way for him to explore his own autonomy in spite of that treatment and a way to learn to hate himself a little bit less, maybe, even though he's still very insecure.

he also has a "nazi punks fuck off" shirt, but... he wouldn't wear that to thanksgiving with aunt may... probably. I'm sure his leather jacket is around here somewhere...

i picked thanksgiving arbitrarily btw 😂 it just made the most sense as a reason for may to force i mean ask them all to come over and get pictures and stuff. kaine leaves nyc in 2012 following ben and only comes back for good in 2016, but when he and aracely first come up in the summer there's a bunch of stuff happening so it makes sense to do fall, once it's settled down...

May: Oh, by the way Peter, I invited your... brothers... to Thanksgiving. Peter: You did WHAT?!

[valentine-writes]

for you!

「 tws + notes: no tws, fluff, not edited, kinda ooc my bad,, im learnin,,, 」

↳ ft. gwen stacy, hobie brown/spider-punk, miguel o'hara/spider-man 2099, miles morales, and pavitr prabhakar

「 gn! reader, can be platonic or romantic <3 」

author's note: obvi strictly platonic for miles, pav, + gwen but like. anyways!! just practicing writing for them becuz otherwise they will be So OOC for everyone's reqz and i literally would die. highkey struggled a bit but i'm tryin y'all!!! ("trying" but this is unedited ASF) ...eveyone look away from my obvious bias for gwen i heart her. i wanna,, also write for more characters eventually,, sooo,, hc reqs,,, hehehe :3 no full ficz,,, yet-

GWEN STACY headcanons:

▸ she doesn't do friends. not really anymore. oh but like. aside from miles, ur also an exception.

your friendship just kinda. happened?? it was a slow process but eventually y'all got close

▸ you supported her in her band endeavours! u know how knives chau rocks the homemade sex bob-omb merch in scott pilgrim vs the world (sorry 4 being a scott pilgrim fan and referencing it. im battling DEMONS.) THATZ U. biggest supporter for realz!! and she appreciates it so so much :,(

▸ she tries to hold u at arms length initially but ends up missing u too much when ur not around :( you've gotten really close to her over time– something neither of you had expected. but having a friend is refreshing for her. she's secretly always just a little anxious about losing you.

one time, in the middle of your developing friendship, she just kinda... dipped. left you on seen, didn't return your calls– you hadn't seen her in a while. but she came back, apologized profusely (through a lot of stumbled sentences and awkward rambles), and then swore never to do it again. you were... conflicted. so you asked her if anything was wrong and she mustered the courage to be vulnerable with you.

you are probably one of the first people in a long time that she'd actually been able to open up to.

▸ sleepovers where u jus stay up and watch slasher films. idk man i just feel this one in my heart. even if ur not particularly fond of horror, gwen is cool abt it if u need to cover ur eyes or hide under a blanket. y'all are practically screaming at the screen whenever the protagonist makes a dumb choice, acting like the characters can actually hear u

"if you go into that FUCKING BASEMENT I SWEAR–"

"nah– she's doing it. watch. WATCH."

"I CANT"

HOBIE BROWN headcanons:

▸ u are NOT calling this guy hobart. the first time u ever called him that Everyone Else was thrown off. like. no. we gonna stick w/ hobie for this one.

you, however, had the funny little idea of shortening his nickname even further. now sometimes– just on occasion– it's bee.

naturally, he's too cool to care abt what he's called, so he doesn't seem to have too many feelings about your overly cutesy nickname for him.

▸ you know any instruments? great. jam sessions with him. you don't? he'll teach you to play guitar. few ppl are given permission to touch His Guitar... but he can afford to make exceptions.

as he's teaching you, his chest collides against ur back a couple times, his hands guiding yours. he'll gently guide your fingers on the fretboard and yeah it's like– maybe not the most efficient way to learn. but whatever. he's pretty good with helping you figure it out.

▸ if you express wanting a piercing, tattoo or wanting to change up your hair (dying it, cutting it, whatever–) he's immediately gonna be like. "yea? ok. bathroom. right now." he'll help you out. king of diy truly.

and hey, the piercings never get infected, the stick and pokes turn out fine, the haircuts never look that bad, and the hair dye doesn't turn out awful so like. win???

supports you in your impulsive choices– piercings can close, diy tattoos fade, hair can grow– but the joy of self expression iz 4eva!!!!

▸ he lets you steal clothes from him. totally will point it out, but won't be all that bothered by it. HE'S GONNA BE TAKING FROM UR CLOSET TOO you practically share a wardrobe at this point. the others slowly become unable to differentiate which clothes you and hobie own individually. even if your wardrobes are completely different– trust he will find a way to keep a small piece of you with him

MIGUEL O'HARA headcanons:

▸ this man is emotionally distant asf. how did you achieve this relationship with him. answer: no clue!!! (｡･･｡) now that ur tight w/ him i am begging you. for the sake of the multiverse. get this man a therapy consultation RIGHT NEOWWW..... they literally have therapy services available in the spider society hq. if you dont HAUL HIS ASS OVER THERE–

▸ it's really no secret miguel has a soft spot for you. though he is very adamant about the fact that he doesn't– most people know that he's a little less grumpy with you around.

you seem to be one of the only people who can actually make him smile. which is. crazy. the first time he ever laughed at a joke you made you just kinda froze and stared at him, wondering if you had just vividly hallucinated miguel being happy. it was a light chuckle, where he kinda,, put his hand over his mouth and looked away. but it was SHOCKINGGG

▸ if you managed to get along with miguel, you're probably also besties with lyla. miguel however does not enjoy this. mainly because you two gang up on him. a lot. aka whenever ur arguing about anything w/ miguel, lyla is more likely to take your side. for funzies!!! she calls you her favourite– and it's like. man. are you getting along with miguel just for his little hologram assistant? i would but im gon shut my mouth on this one

it's funny how easily u two get along. she has officially attached all his bank info to ur online shopping accs and gaming shit. go wild. he'll never know (he finds out.. eventually.)

▸ it's actually really weird how you affect him. and everyone's noticing. he's constantly overworking himself to preserve the safety of the multiverse and when he's not, he's reminiscing on the past- but you give him something that he hasn't had in a while- an actual break. you pull him away from his responsibilities, from the screens he gazes into for so long, and for once he can relax. even if it's just for a minute

MILES MORALES headcanons:

▸ i saw hcs of a friendship w/ miles like gumball and darwin and i literally cannot get it out of my head. y'all r tight like that!!!! itz canon now. considering miles doesn't have a lotta friends (in his universe, at least) he's glad to have you!!! you're probably one of the people he hangs around the most. if you're somewhere, miles is probably somewhere around you too. and if he is not? he's probably just late. spiderman-ing around nyc probably

▸ his parents have really grown to like you too!!! let's assume u dont pull a gwen and address them by their first names. (i love her so much no shade at all but PLEADYUWEGFEHF that was So White of her) miles always has you over to hang out– which usually means you're invited to have dinner with them. his mom especially is always makin sure ur feeling at home and u got enough on ur plate (she is so sweet i adore her)

miles is constantly hearing: "when are they coming over again? you haven't had them over in a while-" rio hearts u. (and i heart rio.)

▸ STREET ART WITH MILES STREET ART WITH MILES– he def taught u what he learned from his uncle aaron. eventually u found a place you two can spray paint 2gether and u go w/ him whenever u need to destress a bit ^_^ it doesn't matter what ur skill level is in art, he's happy to teach you! sometimes, for practice, he'll even draw you!!! and though he hasn't shown you yet,,, he's been comfortable enough w/ you to leave his sketchbook open when you're around

▸ ALSO!! your hangouts probably have a killer soundtrack. u share a collaborative playlist w/ miles and swap recommendations every so often– so whenever ur both 2gether and jus chilling you've got good music 2 blast which is a combo of both ur tastes!!! he probably loves ur music, even if itz something he doesn't typically listen to. it's jus so you.

▸U ARE HIS CANVAS NOW. if u let him, he'll doodle in pen on your arm. he's always so focused, his eyes fixed on your skin as he doodles all over your forearm and hand. his grip is gentle as he turns your arm, tilting it every so often to make sure it looks right. there is no awkward silence, no pressure to make conversation- the quiet shared is comforting.

eventually he runs out of space and blinks up at you,, almost forgetting who he was drawing on. he'll apologize for getting so carried- but his drawings look amazing.

...and then he realized it was permanent marker and immediately doubled his apologizes.

PAVITR PRABHAKAR headcanons:

▸ im going to put this here and i dont know why specifically this came to mind. but never play just dance with him. you will LOSE. one of thse people who don't have to try to win. but he WILL put his 100% in it and eat you UPPPP.

sorry u can't outdo him </3

like bro those moves AREN'T EVEN PART OF THIS DANCE HOW ARE YOU STILL WINNING???

▸ gym bro but not Insane Gym Bro just.... gym bro. will try to get you to workout with him,, but like. cool if you don't wanna! is the most supportive gym buddy to have though. will always encourage you throughout the entire thing and not even just to get you to push through a set- this boy genuinely jus believes in you so much.

▸ he's constantly talking to you about gayatri. he loves his gf sm. if ur one of those people who Don't Like hearing abt other ppls relationships he'll make an attempt to tone it down

but trust he NEVER. EVER. makes you third wheel them. gayatri also will make sure of this- so now... more than often... if you're tryin' to hang with the both of them- THEY BOTH TRY TO PLAY MATCHMAKER FOR YOU.

LIKE. you can't just be LONELY. they're gonna make sure of it. pav and gaytri number one wingmen,..,, women,,, besties

▸ probably texts u like crazy. the type of guy to send u things throughout the day like "this is so you :]" he loves his bestie (YOU!!!)

sometimes it's like,, a particularly interestingly shaped cloud. maybe a cool bug that landed nearby him. a flower growing out of the pavement cracks.

and then sometimes it's like. this.

"this is you."

[symbioticsimplicity]

I'm going to combine all of my favorite thoughts together and no one can stop me

Billy doesn't die at the end of S3, and Eddie doesn't die either. Steve grows into a pretty little punk and the three of them have the most confusing dynamic in the entire group. The kids mostly find it entertaining, but Nancy and Robin are slightly worried.

Billy has gotten better, he really has. With him having been dragged into the kid's lives more, he caught Hop's attention more and the man had immediately realized what was actually going on in the Hargrove household. Hop won't suffer an abuser, especially one server enough to producer Billy and has his father arrested shortly before the start of season 3. Billy is still a bit of a dick, but there isn't nearly as much bite behind his bark.

Billy and Steve have an antagonistic relationship that keeps both of them on their toes. Its not exactly playful, they've got too much baggage for that, but they're not really enemies either?

Steve and Eddie get along like long lost soulmates. There's no real reason that they should, bur they see each other in a way no one else really sees them.

Billy and Eddie cannot and should not be left alone together under any circumstances. Too much chaos and not enough braincells. They're smoking buddies, they've got similar taste in music and Eddie intimately understands the rage that lives in Billy, knows he probably would have been just like him if not for Wayne.

When the three of them are all together, its madness. Billy and Eddie act mostly on impulse with Steve being the only thing keeping them from killing themselves on a dare from one another. If Billy gets too hyphy, Eddie can and will tackle and wrestle the violence out of him. Eddie loves listening to Steve and Billy banter back and forth, its one of the few times he just listens rather than rambling on himself. Steve appreciates not being the only person in the group who didn't spend their high-school years being a goddamn nerd even if Eddie looks crestfallen when he and Billy give him twin blank stares when he launches into a DND rant.

The others are happy these three don't seem so isolated and miserable anymore, which is the only reason they're willing to put up with The Tension. They all capitalize it in their heads because its That Bad.

Billy is an incredibly pretty man, everyone knows that. Steve Harrington is also incredibly pretty (more so when he grows into himself) which everyone knows. Eddie Munson is incredibly gay, although not everyone knows that.

Eddie gets distracted by Billy all the time. His eyes are gorgeous and his lips are hypnotizing and hes never wearing enough clothes. Hes also got this fucking thing he does with his tongue when hes ready to fight that Steve is sure has nearly gotten him killed because he was staring at it. Then there's the way Eddie looks when he's shredding on his guitar that makes Billy feel some kind of way he tries real goddamn hard to ignore. Or fuck forbid Steve is wet for any reason.

They're all a mess, and they're all clueless that the others feel the same and it really is painful to watch.

It boils over though when Steve goes punk. Thats the last fucking straw for Billy, who has the impulse control of a newborn. He takes one look at this man in his revamped letterman and his torn jeans, lips glossed and hair artfully tussled, and just loses it. He pins him to the wall of Eddie's trailer and kisses him half stupid.

Eddie stands there awkwardly, feeling a little lie he's dying inside, unable to decide who hes more jealous of and about to to go to the woods for somewhere private to have a smoke and a cry, when Billy pulls off Steve and turns right around to haul Eddie in next. Both Eddie and Steve are baffled, pinned to the wall between Billy's arms.

When he finishes with Eddie, he glances between the two of them with a "Go on, we all know you want to" and waits patiently as they have a silent conversation before falling into each other.

Its odd, definitely, and it takes a lot of talking about (and maybe a bitching match that turns into a kissing match) but they find a way forward, the three of them, thanking God for Billy's shit impulse control every step of the way.

[not-your-fucking-kacchan]

Anyone character u want x punk delinquent male reader tall af loads of piercings and wild hair🫦🫦

WHAT ARE WE TALKING ABOUTTTT

what are we talking about 😩🫦

I'm gonna have fun with this yall

Also this is giving me MAJOR Asuka Langley introspection vibes rn from evangelion.

Namsmnxnd y'all rlly gave me creative freedom so i took that bitch and RAN anskbsnsbx

This is literally a random fanfic idk why I decided to make it literally the most emotional wreck of a group of words to have ever existed.

Masterlist <3

Izuku x Male!Reader - Delinquent

This feeling started during the UA Sports Festival.

You had been plotting to take the spot of one of the 1-A students this year and secure your future as a hero, much like Hitoshi Shinsou. Except, you picked Izuku out of everyone there to prey upon because he looked the kindest. He looked the weakest.

He had those big, green doe eyes like that of a baby deerling, and it made you irrationally angry.

You had so much hatred for the world around you. Your childish wish to 'become the best' and 'save everyone' faded over time, and the only reason you wanted to rise to the top at this point was spite.

Growing up, noone had cheered you on, or encouraged you to persue your interests. You were told that it's better to stick to what you know, and that dreams of the future were destined to be just that. Just dreams.

Over time, you had lost interest in persuing hobbies, or making friends, and had grown to be jealous of all of the kids around you that had what you couldn't get. It was a sinking, lonely feeling, that kept an iron grip on your heart.

It's not like you had some tragic backstory. You were just neglected, like a whole fucking lot of other kids out there. It just affected you in a slightly different way. It had made you bitter.

When you had gotten into UA High, that was when the imposter syndrome really hit. That must've been what drew you to Shinsou, one of your closest and first friends.

Once again, you were bitter about being put in some second rate class and pushed aside. It's like the world was purposely trying to tell you over and over again, that you're nothing special. You're replaceable at best. It had you absolutely livid.

So, naturally, you displaced your anger onto an unsuspecting target, Izuku Midoriya.

You took note of all of his weaknesses and his interests, and during the last stage, when the two of you were paired up for an individual battle, you tried your absolute best to crush his spirit.

You were jealous that he was so happy. That he was so completely perfect. He had a happy childhood and a strong quirk, and so, so many friends he could surround himself with. He had hobbies, and interests, and he was so fucking special that All Might himself was picking favourites. Oh yeah, you noticed that. It only fuelled your spite and hatred.

Underneath all of the brooding looks and big talk was just a little kid, throwing a tantrum at the world because "It's not fair! Why didn't I get what he did?! Why don't real heroes think I'm strong? Why didn't I get parents who love me?! He has friends, he has hobbies, he has dreams! Everything they said I couldn't have, he has in abundance!! Why not me?!!"

Recovery Girl would say something about needing to 'heal your inner child' or whatever the hell that means.

You tried so hard to crush Izuku, and if he were anyone else, it would've worked. You had learned from the best after all, how to crush a person's spirit. But no, apparently, he was special.

Every time you insulted him or told him harsh truths about every one of his dreams and interests, reciting things your parents had told you, he winced, and you couldn't tell why you hated to see it.

You spilled you heart to this boy unknowingly, your fight being a screaming match that noone but the two of you could hear over the clash of earth and Izuku's strength. You had sent boulder after boulder at him, moving the ground beneath him and wearing him down as much as you could, but he refused to give up, and your body started to tire.

'Oh. So that's why he's special. He's just not like me.'

Those were your thoughts as you were knocked to the floor, the world spinning around you as time seemed to slow to a stop.

He didn't give up when things got rough. But you did. You lay on the floor, taking in the sight of the clear blue sky, so close but so far away, the stands full with cheering onlookers disappearing into the background. It's all just white noise now.

You're absolutely gutted at the loss, and the only spirit left crushed was yours, while Izuku was filled with more resolve than ever.

He was just fundamentally better than you, then.

But that's not fair...

Your face was caked in sweat and blood and most definitely tears as you layed on the floor, barely conscious after Izuku's last attack. Your piercings, which had been a result of your boredom while fucking around with a needle, were literally pissing with blood, and your head was swimming in the pain that encompassed your body.

You barely even noticed when the mossy-headed boy had picked you up, carrying you to the infirmary bridal style.

What you said during your fight had struck a chord in his heart, like it had been plucked straight out, not because you had insulted besically everything he had ever loved or associated with, but because he could perfectly translate what you were saying into what you really felt now that he looked back on it.

You were just so angry, and scared and alone. He wanted to stay by your side. He wasn't pitying you. He was just trying to make friends with the guy who'd almost beaten him during their matchup.

That's what made you hesitantly accept his proposal of friendship when you had next awoken, though you gave him no shortage of side-eye.

Over the course of the next few years, the two of you had actually became real friends, best friends, and you had realised that the feelings you were developing towards him were a little more than just friendly. He had shown you what it was like to actually enjoy things, and have meaningful conversation, and he had helped you make more friends. You had fallen head over heels for him.

Because of him, you were doing better in your classes, and had actually started attending them again. You were picking less fights with random classmates. You had even started to study for written tests, instead of just leaving them blank. Izuku was, and is still so proud of you.

He had treated you like you were an equal, and you had let him into your fragile little heart. Now you were in love.

You had kept it a secret though. Izuku couldn't know that you were in love with him. You had no doubt in your mind that Izuku wouldn't treat anyone differently for being gay, but that's not what you were worried about. You just couldn't handle rejection. Your entire childhood and the years you spent craving acceptance proved that. But you were weak for the moss-top.

Everytime he would bat his eyes at you, or give you that world ending grin that literally set fire to every negative emotion you've ever felt in your life, your heart stuttered. He gave everything meaning.

So when you and Izuku sat in his room and he was once again studying the five piercings on your face, one on each side of your nose, your septum, your bridge, and one little stud at the corner of your lip, you learned in close to plant a kiss to his lips, which were so close to yours that you couldn't help yourself. You were a second away from dreading your fatal mistake until you felt him lean closer, not pulling away or recoiling from you.

The kiss deepened as you let a whimper slip past your lips, which he eagerly swallowed, taking charge of the kiss and pushing you down on the mattress so gently.

That was how you ended up where you are now, naked and writhing under a sweaty, breathless greenette who slowly grinds his hips to meet yours.

He moans as you buck your hips up, pushing him further inside of you as his cheeks flush and he pulls you close. Izuku holds you as you mewl and shiver, kissing you gently and making sure you're okay.

Once you're fully adjusted to the feeling of the intrusion you whine and claw at his back, being oversensitive as he pushes in and out again and again, chasing the pleasure that your wet warmth gives him.

"God- It feels so good- t-to finally get to do this with you... Hah- I love you~"

If someone had told you in the past that you would cry when losing your virginity to Izuku Midoriya, you would've laughed and probably beat the messenger half to death, but now here you are, sniffling and crying into Izuku's neck as he chuckles and runs a soft, but strong hand through your hair.

"I- I love you- Izuku!- Please-!"

Your moans fill the quiet of the room, the only other sounds being Izuku's soft breathing and the rain outside the window, while you and your lover interlock your hands and become one.

He reaches down to stroke your neglected skin, your back arching and drool running down your chin. Your thighs shake and this idiot chuckles again, letting himself move his pelvis a little harder and faster, his abs flexing and rippling with each little movement and reducing you to a little melted puddle in his firm embrace.

Oh, he knows exactly where your prostate is, and he's just teasing you at this point, but you don't even get the chance to huff in annoyance before he suddenly changes his mind, his thrusts becoming more intense and his heart set on bullying the little button inside of you.

He gets exactly what he wanted when you sob and release a steady stream of cum that doesn't shoot, but leaks from you and rolls down your length pitifully, tears running down your face while he reaches his own orgasm deep inside of you. His abdomen twitches and he groans so needily, pulling you closer by the waist in a way that has your eyes rolling back, feeling his hot seed filling every crevice inside of you.

God, he is special. He's everything.