#sweet and sour au

[atangledfate]

" SEE SEE! Sour Apple! i'm not the only one! "

[cartooncadet666]

"I don't hate Skeebo's character, he has some potential. But I do love traumatizing him to the point to where he's broken." -Cartoon Cadet

Also Cartoon Cadet: *gives him wholesome bfs so he wouldn't suffer alone*

[sashaisready]

Sweet and Sour (completed)

Bucky Barnes Mob AU x Femme Reader You're hard at work in Pepper's Bakery when notorious mob boss James 'Bucky' Barnes darkens your doorway one typical afternoon, and life is never the same again.

This is an AU Mob!Bucky fic set in Brooklyn. Also posted on my Wattpad and Ao3.

Warnings: Smut, violence, swearing, allusions to violence, descriptions of blood, threats on life, swearing, kidnapping, stalking/tailing, murder (happens 'offscreen' but referenced and some description of bodies), vomiting, gun violence, some manipulation and nasty treatment of reader by Bucky, dubcon with a minor character, near car accident, alcohol use, possessive/jealous Bucky.

Other MCU characters pop up along the way.

Bucky can be quite dark in this fic and doesn't always behave well...I wouldn't say it's a dark fic as such...maybe soft dark? But he's a bit of a manipulative shithead so heed my warning! He's good at heart though...

Lots of angst and fluff thrown in for good measure.

In my head this Bucky has longer hair but of course you are free to picture your favourite Bucky incarnation. Reader is fem, generally not described but has hair long enough to be in her face.

Chapter One - For your trouble

Chapter Two - No big deal

Chapter Three - Call me Bucky

Chapter Four - You’re both idiots

Chapter Five - No Witnesses

Chapter Six - You already know

Chapter Seven - First time for everything

Chapter Eight - She said Stop

Chapter Nine - Follow Me

Chapter Ten - Do you want to take this elsewhere, Doll?

Chapter Eleven - Just for Me

Chapter Twelve - It’s beautiful, just like the rest of you

Chapter Thirteen - You're finally awake

Chapter Fourteen - A new development

Chapter Fifteen - I’m done with you

Chapter Sixteen - Friends?

Chapter Seventeen - We’re going on a little ride

Chapter Eighteen - Weakness

Chapter Nineteen - Best of luck

Chapter Twenty - Of course I did

Chapter Twenty-One - I’m here, Doll

Chapter Twenty-Two - That was a long time ago

Chapter Twenty-Three - Hell if I know

Chapter Twenty-Four - Yeah, idiot

Chapter Twenty-Five - Epilogue

[roosterbruiser]

𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐌𝐞

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞: 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐀𝐊𝐀 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐭𝐨 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

"Wait, don't--!"

His hips stutter as he throbs inside of you, anchoring you against his slick body with a painfully muscular arm. He hears you over the sound of the rushing water, over the blood rushing through his ears, over his ragged breathing.

And really, Jake isn't an asshole. Not in the ways that count, at least--especially with the women he has sex with.

So he does try to pull out as soon as he realizes that's what you mean by your unfinished sentence, the one that was strangled through your grit teeth. But the thing about that is you didn't give him much notice--granted, he shouldn't have assumed you were on birth control--and he was genuinely already partway through spilling inside you when he registered your words.

"Shit," he sighs, reeling at your sudden loss of contact.

You're pressed up against the wall still, breasts against the steamy tiles, and you're panting too.

"Shit, I'm really sorry," he apologizes, shaking his head. "I just didn't even realize what you said and by the time it registered, I--!"

You shake your head, sighing.

"Hey, it's fine," you tell him, really meaning it. "This is why God made morning-after pills."

It makes him laugh--it's a dry thing, one that is riddled with exhaustion. He's spent honestly--going from pulling 7G's to fucking you so furiously in the shower had proven to be a lot on his body.

You want to make a joke about child support or something, something dumb and inappropriate to say to a man that just accidentally came inside you the first time you had sex. But you don't say anything--you just catch your breath and so does he. It's quiet aside from the running shower and your heaving chests.

Jake leans forward and lets his body rest over yours, forehead resting against your shoulder. He's very warm--which you know is not just because of the lukewarm water raining down over the two of you. He's always warm--hot-blooded. And Jake thinks you feel very soft beneath him; he thinks that he might even like the way your skin feels pressed against his. And you both are just being still, resting in each other's arms. It's probably one of the only times the two of you have ever been in another's presence without arguing.

Before Jake even really knows what he's doing, still in that post-orgasm haze and enthralled in the absolute strangeness of just having fucked you, he presses his lips against your shoulder. At first he just kisses very softly, little things he peppers all along your naked shoulders and neck. And you don't tense at the feeling--for some reason, with your cheek agains the tile and your hair slung over your other shoulder, you're totally okay with him kissing your skin. And then he just lets his lips rest, stilling right there on the back of your neck.

And in almost total tandem, the both of you think it: this is kind of nice.

"You okay?" He asks suddenly, shooting up when he realizes that he's been kissing your skin.

You nod, eyes slipping shut.

"I think so," you whisper.

Things are different after that.

At first it's small things.

Like when Jake meets you at the pharmacy after the two of you leave base (at separate times, of course), he not only buys you Plan B but a protein bar and Gatorade, too.

"Post-coitus protein," he tells you when you look up at him with raised eyebrows.

He sits in your car as you take the pill, fiddling with your radio, looking at the interior you keep so clean. You have a strawberry air freshener in there that smells like his sisters childhood bedroom--he likes it. It's a nice evening so the windows are rolled down and the sun is setting in a blaze of orange and pink in the distance as the blinking, neon PHARMACY sign casts a red light over your face.

"Easy-peasy," you whisper, stuffing the box back in the grocery bag.

He nods, smiling softly, leaning back in your passenger seat. You're leaning back, too, tapping your fingers against the steering wheel. Your hair is still wet and the warm wind feels good when it filters through it.

"Wanna talk about it?" Jake asks.

It very nearly startles you when he says it. But when you look over at him, he's still fiddling endlessly with the radio and fixing his gaze everywhere but you.

"The sex? Or the...Plan B?"

He pulls his brows together, finally glancing up at you as a Joni Mitchell song floats through the radio. You look very soft right now--your face is naked and your damp hair is pulled back. You don't look angry at him for once and your face is open.

"Your dad," he says after a moment, swallowing hard.

It's vulnerable, really, for both of you. Jake is sitting in your car after fucking you, after buying you a protein bar and a Plan B, after splitting a lemon-lime gatorade with you, and A Case Of You is playing as he looks into your glassy eyes. And you had a breakdown--finally cracked and told someone about your father and the little time you have left with him. Then he made you cum and fucked you against the shower wall and now you're here--basking quietly in the glow of the pharmacy sign.

It's confusing, too, because up until about two hours ago, Jake Seresin was just about your least favorite person on earth. But now you think that he looks downright pretty when he's being earnest the way he is right now. And he thinks that you look beautiful, too, even with that drop of Gatorade on your bottom lip.

"Not right now," you say quietly, shaking your head.

Three hours ago, if he'd have asked, you'd have snarled at him. You probably would've hissed, "Not to you, dickhead." But things are different now. You both know it.

He's not hurt that you don't want to talk about it. He gets it--really, he does.

"Yeah, I get that," Jake says softly, trying to remain casual even though there's a strange sense of affection for your capturing every vital organs in his body. "I'm here if you...want to."

You nod, biting your thumbnail.

"Thanks," you whisper.

"And I guess, um, like for the record..." Jake says softly, scratching the back of his neck just to have something to do with his hands, "I don't think you're a bitch."

Something jolts inside of you, climbs up your chest and sits thickly in your throat. It feels strangely close to affection.

"Thank you," you whisper, biting your lip. "I don't think you're that big of a dick."

And then you're both laughing--it's the first time you two have ever really shared a laugh together. He's always heard your laugh from the other side of the room, in some conversation that he isn't a part of. Being so close to it now makes his fingers feel warm.

"I am a dick, huh?" He sighs, still smiling.

You shrug.

"You can be," you say, sighing. "But at least now I know you let ladies finish first."

He snorts softly.

"I'm a dick, not a monster."

Then you two are sharing your second laugh together. It fills your little car and nestles in snugly against your strawberry air freshener and Plan-B trash.

"Well, I've known plenty of monsters," you sigh, rolling your eyes at the mere thought of ex-boyfriend's and their ineffective fingers and short strokes.

"You're giving me a big head," Jake teases.

You smile--it's a real, genuine smile. The stretch of it on your lips feels unfamiliar. It's been a great while since you've smiled, you realize.

"I can deflate that ego anytime," you tell him, a teasing lilt in your voice. "Just give me the go-ahead when you're ready."

He takes a swig of your Gatorade. You watch him, watch his pink lips wrap around the rim, watch his throat swell as he swallows. He looks beautiful right now--partly in the afterglow and partly just because he is beautiful. That is undeniable now.

Then he offers the bottle to you--you take a drink, too.

"You like lemon-lime, right?" He asks.

He's asking fruitlessly--he knows you do. He's seen you buy it at the base vending machine more than once.

You nod. Of course you do. But he already knows that.

Another thing that changes is that he saves a seat for you. It starts the very next morning the two of you are on base together.

To the untrained eye, it would seem like nothing. But your eye isn't untrained. When you walk into the training room on Monday morning, Jake is sitting at the desk with his feet firmly planted on the floor, not in the seat beside him like they usually are. And when you slip in beside him silently, the way he was hoping you would, he glances at you from the corner of his eye.

"Mornin'," he greets quietly, chewing on a tooth pick.

You smile softly as you unpack your bag, nodding at him in greeting.

"Good morning."

He taps his knuckles on the table, trying to keep his voice steady.

"How was your weekend?" He asks.

You shrug.

"Fine. Lots of family coming in and out so...loud, I guess," you breathe. "How was yours?"

Something in his throat feels tight that you're just mentioning this fact in passing. He knows that your family is filtering in and out of your home because your father is dying--that this time must be very precious for you and yours and you're still coming into work every single day like nothing is wrong. But you're telling him this now, the only person on this base that knows about your ailing father, and it feels like you trust him. And you suppose that you accidentally kind of do trust him now--a little bit more than you did on Friday at 1 o'clock.

"Just great," he sighs.

Truth be told, he had thought of you all weekend. He was confused about the whole thing, since the two of you were sworn enemies but have now found yourselves in the no-man's-land between enemies and friends and lovers.

The next morning, the seat beside him is open again. And this time, there's a lemon-lime Gatorade waiting for you there like it's marking your spot.

And after that, it just keeps happening. Each morning, Jake somehow gets on base before you, buys a Gatorade, and leaves it at your seat. You wonder if he's spending a fortune in quarters and for about a month, he is--until he thinks better of it and just buys a pack of lemon-lime in bulk and starts bringing them from home.

Other members of the squadron notice that the two of you have seemingly formed some sort of truce, but no one is brave enough to outright ask what's happened between the two of you. Payback and Rooster sniff around wherever they can, trying to snuff out who the winner of their bet is, but you and Jake remain mum.

The next time you have sex, it's less of a surprise.

It's almost two months later--two months full of everyone dancing around the fact that your father is dying, two months of your family's door being a revolving one, two months of the stress of your recent detachment--when it all reaches a head.

You need a release and despite your better judgment a few weeks ago, you'd given Jake your phone number. Your text messages started our sporadic and random--sometimes just sending each other gossip you heard in the hangar or memes that made you think of the other. But then they'd evolved into something more constant than that recently--the two of you even catching a movie or a late dinner here or there.

So when you showed up at his door past midnight on a Saturday, almost two months since your shower encounter, he wasn't all that surprised to see you. It wasn't very odd to see each other off base now.

But what surprised him is how quickly you kissed him, walking over the threshold of his front door hastily. And he's kissing you back right away, blinking away his chock and his previous fatigue. You're ferocious in your kisses, all tongue and teeth and spit, and he's trying to keep up with you.

"Hi," he mumbles into your mouth, his voice deliciously gravelly.

"Hey," you whisper back, pulling back for a moment to behold him.

He looks good right now--scruffy and comfortable with his beard and his sweatpants low on his hips and his old band t-shirt. He's had a couple of beers and his lips taste like Stella Artois and peanuts. Before you came over, he was sitting on his couch, watching some highlight reel of a football game and putting off getting ready for bed.

And he's looking right back at you, at your pupils that are blown and your cheeks that are flushed. You are desperate for him like you were the first time the two of you touched, but it's different now. It's different because the two of you don't loathe each other--there's actually something between the two of you that resembles a friendship.

"Everything okay?" He asks quietly, his hands firmly planted on your hips as you press yourself into him and lace your fingers in his hair.

"No," you tell him honestly, biting your lip.

He wants to press you more--wants you to tell him what's wrong. He wants you to let it all out and he actually wants to listen to it because the two of you are suddenly people that care about each other. He cares about your Aunt Lisa and her bitchy comments that she makes to your mom and the way it hurts your feelings, too. He cares about your dad starting hospice last week. He cares about you skipping lunch most days--which has prompted him to start packing you bags of apples and walnuts and cheese--and he cares that you don't like red wine at all.

And you can feel that care--really, you can. Whoever the Jake was before you had sex is not the Jake that's looking into your eyes now with his brows blanched in sympathy. This Jake that's holding you genuinely wants you to be okay--this Jake hasn't tried anything sexual with you since your first encounter but is kissing you back right away.

Despite yourself and your efforts, you care about him, too. You care that he was grounded for two weeks--enough for you to have your dad talk to Cyclone and get the penalty dropped. You care that he doesn't usually get invited to group hangouts outside of The Hard Deck and have deemed yourself the official Hangman-inviter. You care that he likes rom-coms but doesn't like to admit it--so you pretend to suggest them all on your own.

"What can I do?" Jake asks, tenderly reaching up to swipe his knuckles across your cheek.

You lean into his touch, lean into his calloused fingers, and let your eyes fall shut softly.

"Fuck me," you whisper.

He nods, brows furrowed.

"I can do that," he whispers to you.

And all at once, things are happening. He's bracing his forearms beneath your ass and you're wrapping your legs around his hips. You're kissing and panting, tugging at the hems of each others shirts and leaving a trail of discarded clothing on the stairs as he carries you to his bedroom. And then he's laying you down on the bed, tugging your pants off without breaking your kiss, swallowing every precious noise that your mouth makes. He loves those sounds, loves the way they feel on his lips.

Then, after a few more minutes of kissing and petting and shedding, you're both naked.

You're lying flat on your back in his dark bedroom against his cold sheets, your eyes bleary with pleasure as he stands over you. He's naked except for the silver chain on his neck, his cock pressing thickly against his thigh. You're both flushed all over, both silently letting your eyes graze over each other's bodies.

Without another word, he reaches for you. He's careful with you as he first sinks his fingers down on your cunt--very carefully grazing your lips and gathering the wetness that has grown there. And he's just gazing down at you, treasuring that little crinkle between your brows and that twitch in the meat of your thighs. And when his fingers slip over your clit, he keens at the way your chest rises off the bed, at the way you inhale your breaths so sharply.

It feels good--like overwhelmingly good. He knows how to touch you, he knows where to touch you. All of his movements are seemingly perfectly calculated, one finger rubbing lazy circles on your clit while the other pushes into you. He's gentle, pumping at the pace you desire, bringing his other hand to his own cock to relinquish some of the tension that has risen there.

There's no haste. You two still very obviously want each other, you two are still very obviously desperate for each other, but you're not in the locker-room on base anymore. You're here in Jake's dark bedroom and he's savoring every moment that his fingers are buried in you.

"Jake," you whisper, clenching his sheets.

"I know, baby," he coos softly, squaring his jaw as he picks up his pace just slightly, "I know. I'll get you there."

His words alone are making you quake, making your toes curl. But everything he's doing just feels so good, so perfect. You know you must be absolutely slick with anticipation, that his fingers are more than enough to push you over the edge. He knows this, too--which is why he stops suddenly.

"What--?" You pant, sitting up on your elbows.

But Jake is just pressing his fingers against your mouth, the ones that had just been inside of you. And you're taking them without hesitation, a mutual sense of trust aiding in your malleability.

His eyes are dark as he watches you suck his fingers clean of your arousal, as you swirl your tongue along his fingertips. But they're not dark in a way that frightens you--they're lustful and adoring.

So when he lowers to his knees, when he hooks your knees over his shoulders and scoots you to the end of the bed, you don't shy away from him. You lay back on the bed, kiss each of his fingers and let them settle against your right nipple, and blink up at his ceiling.

When his tongue first circles your clit, you cry out, back arching off the bed. And because his hand is already there, he lets his palm lie flat in the middle of your chest, and pushes you back down against the mattress.

You taste just like he thought you would, very sweet and earthy on his tongue, and he can't think of any other place that he would rather be than hear between your quivering legs. He lets his tongue run across your slick folds and settle comfortably on your silky clit, lapping at it languidly as you writhe above him.

"Jake, that's so good," you manage to whimper, gasping as he hums against you.

"Want you to cum," he mumbles against you. "Cum for me, Wisty."

You're mewling, grasping for anything to hold you down to the bed as an impossibly tight coil springs in your belly. You can hardly catch your breath, can hardly keep your hips from bucking, when he reaches out to take your hands. It's a simple gesture, one that anyone in the world could do, but you are grateful for it. You dig your nails in his skin and he just holds you right back.

Maybe it's the sheer intimacy of it all that pushes you over the edge finally--or maybe it's because Jake is just that damn good with his tongue--but you nearly black out when you cum.

And because he cares about you, because he really does want you to feel good and be good, he coaxes you through it all. He holds your hands tight, keeps a flat palm to your chest so you don't come completely off the bed, laps up every bit of your nectar without overstimulating you.

And then he kisses his way up your legs, over your precious thighs and hips, all up your belly and between your breasts. Then he kisses up the column of your throat, nipping very lightly, bringing his hands to softly knead your breasts.

When his face finally hovers yours, when you're blinking up at him with bleary and glassy eyes and wet eyelashes and bitten lips, he feels like he's going to blurt something out that he might regret any other time.

"That was...nice," you whisper, voice trembling.

Truthfully, that was the best orgasm you've ever had.

"Nice, huh?" He laughs that pretty laugh, carefully pressing your hair behind your ears and letting his hand linger against your cheek.

"Didn't want you to get a big head," you meekly answer, smiling weakly.

The smile that tugs on his lips is one of utter fondness--one that usually prefaces sweet nothings. So you lean up and press your mouth on his, your lashes fluttering shut in tandem. The kiss is slow and sweet, very different than the clashing of tongue and teeth downstairs.

He slowly lowers his bare body on top of yours, pressing every surface of his skin against you, letting his cock rest against your hip. It feels good just to be this close to each other, just to be kissing each other with such sweetness.

"I really like you," Jake murmurs against your mouth.

And even if he's had a couple of beers, he knows that's not why he says it. He says it because he means it, because his cock is pressing against you, because he can still taste you on his tongue.

You thought your head would be spinning in this post-orgasm euphoria, but it's not. You feel everything is crystal clear as you rest your forehead against Jake's, as you swipe your thumbs cross his cheek softly. Affection is sitting very heavy on your body now, similar in weight to Jake.

"I really like you, too," you whisper.

You two have the good sense to use a condom this time, which hardly interrupts the flow of things, not when your blood is running so hot for each other.

He hovers you, relishing in the feeling of your legs coming up to wrap around his hips, relishing in your skin beneath his palms and your half-lidded eyes looking up into his. He's lined himself up perfectly, desperate to feel your warm walls around him, but then he pauses and stills--just like last time.

He reaches down, less hesitant than he was before, and lets his hand rest on your cheek. If you were another girl, one he didn't know very well, maybe he'd press his thumb into your mouth and have you suckle as he fucked you. But he merely strokes the soft skin of your cheek. And then you turn just slightly, just enough to press your lips against the pad of his thumb in the most tender kiss he's ever been given.

"You want this?" He asks, his voice strained.

You nod, leaning into his touch. Jake feels like no one has ever trusted him enough to lean into the palm of his hand like this--it feels good. It feels really, really good.

"Yes," you whisper quietly. "I want you."

𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭: 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦

that gif is my entire note. that's all. I'm deceased. goodbye now, world.

here is my tag list!!

also would the world want another part of this?? maybe when iceman...dies...or something angsty like that?

[cosmic-seer]

Here have Pokemon ScarVio Content with zero context.

We got a little chaotic on the discord-

@dipplinduo @heytheredahlia @kyokokusakabe @angelabsol @mandachuart

[miramelo]

Daniel Luthor au

Even when Lex is very open about Daniel, soon son-to-be, heroism and Daniel being someone who doesn't shy from the cameras very little is known of his origins

A lot of people have theories of him being kryptonian or an alien of some kind but it has never been confirmed

[ibrithir-was-here]

Here we go…

@animate-mush (I got the lightening struck design in after all!)

[prongsfish]

tysm for the tag @malchai !! <3

rules: answer & tag people u want to connect with and get to know better

fav colour: yellow

last song: baby’s on fire by brian eno

last film: velvet goldmine

currently reading: i have a lot of things i’m partly through but haven’t touched in a while, but most accurately i’d say a doll’s house by henrik ibsen and dante’s inferno

currently watching: heartbreak high s2

currently craving: zero sugar original mother

coffee or tea: i like both but drink tea more often

np tags:@official-j-dog @official-e-money @crvida @saturnsconstellation @sapphos-queer-kid and anyone else who wants to!! i get nervous about tagging people but i want to hear everyone’s thoughts… you’re all tagged in my heart ok

[iceemoondemon]

💗Blossom! Commander and the leader! 💙Bubbles! She's the joy and laughter!

💚Buttercup! They are the toughest fighter!

Powerpuffs save the day!! Fighting crime, trying to save the world! Here they come just in time!~ ✨ The POWERPUFF GIRLS!! ✨

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

Ah yes, nostalgia time!

Here's my take on the Powerpuff Girls.

💗HEADCANONS💗

🌸Blossom - Asexual Lesbian Age: 14

🌊Bubbles - Pansexual Age: 15

🍀Buttercup - Non Binary / AroAce Age: 15

This is for yet another nostalgia reviving AU, i made one for Care Bears, Strawberry Shortcake, Tom and Jerry, and now

THE POWERPUFF GIRLS!

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The AU is called

Powerpuff Girls: Sweet n' Sour

The usual PPG motive, The powerpuffs are in their teens, and they still have their superpowers, and they fight crime, but they know that not every person is a criminal, and deserves redemption

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So yeah, hope you like my versions of these geezers

[rainyday-deer]

Another MerNiss bc the AU is clingwrap.

Niss's trident is just a blade; It's not magical.

Niss's family also takes out pirate ships, since pirates catch and sell merfolk-- Which is why he's been scoping out the ship Mo is on.

[hypnothesis-au]

A new year’s splatfest is coming in hot! ... or sweet? OR sour?? It’s up to you to find out! Do you groove with flare, feeling, or not at all? It’s a dance battle to the last splat this weekend to determine who takes this tango!

[cartooncadet666]

Idk- Random thing

Which AU of PMATGA do you guys want from me? I'm trying to post these right now, but it has to do with Skeebo so-

Amnesia: Anger-Issued Blonde loses memories.

Demon Bait: Anger-Issued Blonde meets his demon bf in this universe.

Sweet and Sour: Anger-Issued Blonde x Mexican-Japanese Cinnamon Roll

Fate + Soul Meadows: Anger-Issued Blonde becomes King of the Nether Realm; first goes to a haunted campsite w/ classmates.

S**cidal: Anger-Issued Blonde goes insane and commits the self-harmies. The Pac gang are guilty :D

Demonic: Everyone who's alive is either dead or a monster! (For example, Betrayus is now the president and Stratos is now the king of the Nether Realm.) This AU is completely weird but I could care less-

These are like random AU's me and my friend made, I don't get why I love putting fictional characters through a lot of trauma, especially minor antagonists- Oh well, what do you guys think you wanna see? I'm trying to make a comic on my AU of teenage Betrayus, so these are like little things you can read and look at in the meantime.

[sashaisready]

Chapter Nineteen - Best of luck

Bucky Barnes Mob AU x Femme Reader

You're hard at work in Pepper's Bakery when notorious mob boss James 'Bucky' Barnes darkens your doorway one typical afternoon, and life is never the same again

Warning: Dark themes - same warnings as previous chapter, also includes minor injury with mention of blood

18+ - see Masterlist for full list of warnings

Chapter 20

Series Masterlist

Bucky is settling down to go to bed when his phone buzzes. He’s in a bad mood, still furious with how things went down with you earlier.

He takes a sip from this tumbler of whiskey as he picks up his device. He’s very surprised to see your name light up his screen. You’ve sent him a couple of messages. He frowns as he swipes to open his phone.

Sweetie - I’m sorry we fought. Please help!! I’ve been taken somewhere - these men are so scary. Please come help me x love you

Sweetie - here’s my location. Please come soon - I need you. Xx love you so much

The second message included a pin with your live location. You seemed to be somewhere on the outskirts of the city.

He furrows his brow, thinking carefully as he holds the phone against his chin.

After a moment, he opens up your messages again and begins to type a response.

**

Rumlow was holding your phone eagerly as he watched the screen, waiting for Bucky to respond.

You chewed your lip anxiously as you looked around the room. The men all stared back at you. You know pinning all of your hopes on Bucky to save the day is a naïve plan so you’re frantically trying to come up with another idea to get out of here. If you could just be left alone for a moment…

Your phone vibrates and Rumlow laughs excitedly.

“Here’s your boy…” he chuckles.

His thick fingers are smashing at your phone screen as he brings up the message. But his face falls, and he throws the phone over to Pierce who begins to read aloud.

“Doll…sorry to hear you’re in a spot of bother. But I told you I’d leave you alone like you wanted and I’m a man of my word. Best of luck - JBB x”.

Your heart sinks into your stomach and you suddenly feel like you might faint. You go limp in the chair. You didn’t expect Bucky to actually come, but hearing it out loud is still hard to take.

“Aww, well that’s a shame” mutters Pierce sarcastically. “Plenty of fish in the sea though, right honey?”

He taps your cheek roughly and you realise you’re trembling.

“Fuck!!!” Rumlow yells in frustration. “What are we going to do now?

Pierce shushes him soothingly. He seems to be the calm and measured presence alongside Rumlow’s hot-headedness. It strikes you that he’s like Bucky in that way.

Or maybe Bucky is like him. He learnt it all from somewhere.

“Gentlemen….let’s just give this a bit longer huh? We all know from personal experience what Barnes says and does can be two different things…” Pierce muses serenely. “We’ve got time. The girl isn’t going anywhere. We’ll be ready for him if he shows up.”

“So you think he could still come?” Rumlow questions. “I dunno boss, she seems pretty adamant he doesn’t give a fuck…”

Pierce shrugs. “Let’s regroup and discuss.”.

He gestures to them through the double doors. “Follow me, let’s go somewhere a bit more private. Prying eyes and all that” he winks at you.

“Princess, we’ll be right back. Jones here will babysit you for now” he nods his head towards a man holding a large pistol who just blankly stares back at you. He somehow looks like a perfect mix of every bad guy you’ve ever seen in a movie.

“Get comfortable, sweetie” Pierce adds as he leaves the room.

You despise all of the names he gives you...honey...sweetie...princess. Your hatred for him seethes, flowing through your veins.

As the rest of the group head out with a low chatter, Jones moves closer to you. He watches you carefully, circling your chair and pointing his gun at you. It’s just the two of you left in the room now.

You sit up slightly, the beginnings of a plan forming in your head. It’s all you have, so it’s worth a shot.

You purposefully make yourself look as meek as possible, allowing your tears to fall as you flutter your eyelashes. You whimper softly. It’s not too much of a stretch as you’ve been on the verge of crying since they grabbed you.

Jones just watches you silently, seemingly unmoved by your tears.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to cry…” you tell him softly.

“I’m just so scared” you sigh. You move your legs apart slightly, moving your cleavage forward just the tiniest bit. You adjust your thighs so that your dress rides up Jones can see a flash of your underwear between your legs, but subtle enough that it doesn’t look like it’s on purpose.

Jones takes the bait, leaning forward and leering at you. You feel dirty. But it’s a means to an end.

Now or never.

“Do…do you think you could get me some water, please? I’m sorry to ask. My throat is just so dry…” you plead to him, slightly pathetically.

He looks at you for a moment, stealing another glance at your breasts and between your legs. Then he nods silently and heads for the doors.

You nearly gasp, amazed that was all it took.

Men, huh?

But you don’t have long. You cast your mind back to a YouTube video you watched in the midst of a late night True Crime binge. It was a tutorial on how to break out of zip ties. HYDRA were sloppy for not using real ropes, no wonder Bucky toppled them so easily - but you supposed they didn’t see you as a real threat. Well, you were happy to be underestimated if it worked to your advantage.

The second the door closed behind Jones you began to raise your arms high above your back and crash them down at full force as you flex your hands. It takes a few tries but you manage it, the pressure snaps the tie and you free yourself. You gasp, momentarily celebrating your win with a muted gleeful screech.

But there’s no time. Jones will be back any second. You spring from the chair and fling off your remaining shoe - it’ll only hold you back. You sprint across the warehouse to the other door you spotted earlier, it’s on the opposite side to where Pierce and his men went so you hope and pray that you won’t bump into them.

The door opens into a labyrinth of corridors. You fling yourself down them, looking for a decent hiding place to give you time to think about your next move. You turn down them almost at random, just desperate to put as much distance between you and HYDRA. Thankfully there are so many routes that it’ll likely create confusion when they come after you. You find yourself praying silently that you don’t encounter anyone, and that they’re all on the other side of the building. You pass lots of rooms, old offices and supply closets. You just need to pick one that they don’t find right away.

Eventually, in the thick of the maze of hallways, you find a door which leads to a stairwell. You run up it, aware they would’ve noticed your absence by now. This building seems to be huge with a lot of ground to cover so you hope the search will keep them occupied for longer. Checking all of the rooms here will take some time at least.

You find yourself in some sort of attic. It’s pitch black but you are too fearful to find the light switch in case it draws attention to you. Your eyes adjust to the darkness as you bump into old boxes and equipment and stumble through the mess. Maybe you can lay low here for a while and think of a new escape plan. If you could just evade them for a bit longer, and then a bit longer after that…Maybe you could flee the building altogether and flag down a passing car once you reach the road.

Your heart is beating so fast that your chest is practically shaking. You’ve never been more frightened.

You think of Bucky briefly. You’re sad that it ended the way it did, regretful that you didn’t get to make peace with him before this. It’s likely that this will be your last day on earth, and even though it’s his fault that you’re here - you feel a pang of regret. You feel anger too, anger for everything he put you through - for leaving you to die here. You think of your final kiss with him instead, the memory sustaining you as you press yourself into a corner, pushing your face against the wall as you manoeuvre into the small space…

You hiss in pain and pull yourself away from the wall as your hand leaps up to your cheek. Something has cut you, a loose nail or bolt or something equally sharp. It’s broken the skin on your face, and you can feel blood gushing down your cheek.

You scoff in disbelief as you clutch at it, annoyed that if you somehow survive the psychopathic crime gang then you’ll end up dying of an infection from an ancient nail instead.

You hold your hand against the wound, then rip a section of your dress off and use it to put pressure on the cut, slowing down the bleeding.

And you wait.

And wait.

[redscorpiocat]

Q and A with the Villainous trio

Y'all know what to do

[arttsuka]

mer Spock having sour candy. hopefully it doesn't kill him 💔

He'd like it eventually

[the-new-pokespe-futures]

Announcement:

A Little Something to all Toxic Chain Possession Kieran AUs out there...

TC Pecharunt: "Hey Guys, so um, about a little something we're cooking up with...we're actually screwed. Not in that way, we had some screw ups here and there and uh...yeah. But anyways, I have some good news! So, who's ready for-

S&S Pecharunt: "Oh, will you shut it? We're barely getting the team together! It's pointless!

TC Pecharunt: "... What?"

S&S Pecharunt: "Have you seen ANY of our creators interacting with one another? No! Plus, some of these creators never get anything done."

TC Pecharunt: "Ok first of all, how did you get here? And second of all, what makes you think that way?"

S&S Pecharunt: "It's only been roughly a MONTH since our event was released and people have been hyping up for the leaks of us only to get disappointed by the supposed 'really good' 'Mochi Mayhem'. It's only the fanmade Toxic Chain Possession Aus, Toxic Chain pokemon and theories that's helping us.

TC Pecharunt: *grumbles* "Have you been looking at Twitter again?"

S&S Pecharunt: "You mean 'X'?"

TC Pecharunt: "TWITTER, X, WHATEVER IT'S CALLED!! Why did they even change it...But the point is, those people are just haters and enjoy being toxic. Don't you dare tell me you actually believe them!"

S&S Pecharunt: "So where is it? Huh? They have been working on their Aus for quite some time, yet some of the Aus and stories are incomplete AND some of them have improper schedules when posting their stories!

TC Pecharunt: "You do realise that these people are doing this for fun right? But they still are actual people with lives, schedules, family, friends and not dedicated their entire lives to running their blogs much less the Aus?! Those people that hate the Toxic Chain Theories or others probably won't even see the Au, much less see it in-depth themselves! You have a lot of NERVE to say all of THAT to MY face!"

S&S Pecharunt: "... But the guy writing this is-"

TC Pecharunt: "GAAAAHHH, I HAD IT WITH YOU!!!"

*The 2 soon started a fight before a figure looms over them...*

???: "ENOUGH"

Both Pecharunts: 'Huh? Oh Shit it's PV-'

PV Pecharunt: "You two are annoying me, I'll take care of this myself..."

...

"I know you are there, and you have seen us. But don't fret, because we, The Korrosion Klan. WILL get you next time, watch out heroes, wherever you are, you can't run, you can't hide, and soon, your soul will be mine...hahahahaha....."

...

...

...

TC Pecharunt: "There, now are you satisfied?"

S&S Pecharunt: "Really? The people would still be confused by what's going on."

TC Pecharunt: "Ugh, gimme a second..." *Brings a piece of paper.*

"Basically, The Korrosion Klan is a group consisting of Pecharunts involved in their own Toxic Chain Possession Aus. If any user wants their Pecharunt to join the Klan, they can reply in the comments or reblog to state if they want to join. We are open throughout the year, so you can join anytime and anywhere."

"There, better?"

S&S Pecharunt: "Much better."

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

I've been wanting to do this for some time! A crossover between the different Toxic Chain Possession Pecharunts is something I've recently thought of. I probably won't make a sideblog about it, but just a fun idea I thought of. Also, this is directly inspired by Mario's Madness Funk Kast trailer. Adn a few things were directly copied from it but most of all, it has changed.

Also, credits to the original owners of the Pecharunts:

Toxic Consequences (TC) Pecharunt belongs to @tealmaskmybeloved

Sweet & Sour Dipplins (S&S) Pecharunt belongs to @dipplinduo

Project Venus (PV) Pecharunt belongs to @milliemuus