#thinking about the good ole days (when he got to do a little dance and song for fun)

[velvetjune]

[alan wake voice] oh, tor and odin. they were in my musical :)

[griffonsgrove]

omg hello!! I saw you post those vox headcanons and wow I was literally kicking my feet and giggling LOL. I also saw you take requests right now! (at least that’s what it said in your rules) and I wanted to request something : D

could I request general alastor headcanons with a GN! Reader please ? :D

Thank you!

General Dating Headcanons | Alastor

a/n: Of course my dear!! I love how Alastor is portrayed in the series, he’s easily one of my favorite characters! I’ve been wanting to do these for quite a bit, so thank you for the request!

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Wordcount: 1991

Cw: Hazbin Spoilers, minor violence, mentions of death, murder

(PLATONIC):

Ah so you managed to capture the attention of the infamous Radio Demon? You should be honored he even considers you worth his time! Not most demons have that luxury, they never live long enough to see.

Al strikes me as the kind of guy who knows everyone, he’s very observant and has eyes everywhere (his shadow friends extend throughout the entirety of the pride ring). He’s got connections in just about anything. He’s bound to have at least seen you once.

That being said, he views other sinners as inferior to him, if you don't have any power, he doesn't really see you as much of a threat (let’s be honest even if you did, he still wouldn't feel threatened)

He’s quite intrigued when he sees a frail little thing like you walk through the hotel doors. You're here on your own free will, seeking redemption? Oh, this will be quite entertaining.

You’re well aware of who he is, having been in hell for quite some time, even before his 7 yearlong disappearance, you knew to be wary in his presence.

It often left you being timid or skittish around him at first.

The deer demon had a knack for popping up at the most inconvenient of times, out of nowhere it seems (perks of being able to shadow travel). He would scare the daylights out of you nearly every time. Whether it was intentional or not, it always got a good laugh out of him.

And that smile…He was always smiling, you can't ever recall a moment where he wasn't, not even a falter. It's definitely an intimidation tactic you think. After all, you're never fully dressed without one!~

Despite this, he’s a charmer. He has this flare about him that oozes confidence whenever he speaks with you, to anyone really. He’s able to talk his way into and out of anything. One of the many perks of being a showman. Alastor is witty, charming and entertaining to say the least. Life is never dull with him around.

And if you happen to be from the same time period?? It’ll only want him to be around you even more! Finally, someone he can relate to in this cesspool.

This man is quite the chatterbox. He looooves to reminisce about the good ol’ days, always talking about how things were in his radio days. He could talk for literal hours and not break a sweat. You’ll often have to politely interject when he rambles on for too long, not that he minds.

Did I mention he can cook too?? Really well, surprisingly. He claims he learned from his dearest mother. He had to put a name to her famous Jambalaya recipe! When you tried it for the first time your socks were nearly blown right off from how much cayenne pepper he put into it. He likes a little spice.

He's!! Always!! Humming!! The man loves to sing, he often finds himself absentmindedly humming old tunes from the 20’s as he goes about his day. Whether he’s out for a stroll, enjoying a nice cup of tea, or running around the hotel, he’s humming.

This has been stated before, but Alastor is not big on physical touch from others unless he's the one initiating it. There have been many times where he’s pulled you into a little dance or twirl while he explains something. It never fails to surprise you each time.

He’ll often use his microphone staff to push or touch something, more specifically someone. He doesn't like to touch sinners that often, God knows where they’ve been. You’ve seen him whack Angel upside the head with it before, the spider tried getting a little too close for comfort. But for you he’ll make an exception.

Very well groomed!! He puts a lot of effort into his appearance, and cares about how he projects himself to the public eye. His hair is always neatly styled to perfection, shoes shined, and is always dressed to the nines. I mean did you see how mad he got when Pentious ripped a part of his coat off?

As the two of you begin to spend some more time together, you find yourself often having little meetups, the both of you would chat, share a cup of tea and just enjoy each other’s company. He liked to sit on the patio, he had a little table, and everything set up for you two.

Alastor makes sure to keep an eye on you regularly. He may have his shadow sneak around and stalk you while you're out. He’ll use the excuse that ‘Hell is a dangerous place!’, He can't have some low-life sinner trying to harm you, that would make him a terrible friend!

Undeniably has a soft spot for you that he’ll never admit aloud, he genuinely enjoys your company and likes having someone around that will humor him and listen to his stories. Grandpa.

Overall, Al is quite a good friend to have, you feel like you can confide in him at any point, he’s surprisingly a wonderful listener. The more time you spend together only strengthens your little friendship. Even to the point where you both will grow to have a mutual respect for each other. He initially scared you at first, given his reputation, but underneath all the ruthless chaos is a true gentleman.

(ROMANTIC):

My man is sooo conflicted at first, He’ll spend hours in his den thinking about his feelings. (We’ve all seen the inside of his room, literally half of it is a swamp). The scenery can only soothe him so much as he contemplates on what to do.

This is probably where you will begin to less and less of him for a time being as he works out his inner turmoil.

But, once he finally comes to terms with these undeniable feelings, he decides to confront you privately, away from any prying eyes. Ahem Angel…

Very old-fashioned, this is where he will properly ask to court you. 

You’ll never know this but he was actually kind of nervous, he was worried you’d reject his offer, but imagine to his surprise when you said yes!! He kind of felt giddy.

Congratulations! You now have a cannibalistic deer overlord as your boyfriend

He’s such a gentleman, I literally cannot say it enough, the man was raised right and he respects you! 

You literally never have to open a door with him around. He holds your chair out for you, always walks on the outer side of the sidewalk, pays for every meal and is constantly giving you compliments left and right. And they say chivalry is dead.

Alastor loves to gift flowers to you. Every few weeks or so he’ll give you a new bouquet. They're different each time, some have a meaning while others he simply thought you’d enjoy. You have a special place in your room where you keep them.

Now that you’re in a relationship, the two of you are basically joined at the hip. Wherever you are, Alastor is not far behind. He doesn't want to admit it but the overlord is kind of clingy. He doesn't like being too far from you.

If there’s ever a reason he has to be away from you, he’ll often have a few of his little imp dolls watch after you. You always thought they were cute little fellas anyways.

The both of you aren't exactly private about your relationship, but at the same time you’re not screaming it out from the rooftops either. Alastor is well aware of the dangers you could possibly face due to his status. He’s made a lot of enemies in his time, and doesn't want to see you get hurt on his behalf.

That being said though, no demon in their right mind would try to threaten you.

God forbid they touch you either. They’d be ripped in half before they could even get another word out. 

He's fiercely protective over you. He tries to play it off as nonchalantly as possible, but you know he cares about you immensely, it’s rather sweet really.

Now about physical affection. Things will go very slowly in the beginning, as said before he's fine with things as long as he's the one initiating it. If you two are out for a stroll you’ll have your arm gently looped with his as you walk down the chipped sidewalks. You’ll have to be extremely patient with him, he’s not used to this “love” and “affection”

If you’re ever having a bad day however, he’ll slip out of his comfort zone for you, and allow you to hold onto him for as long as you please, in the privacy of your own room of course.

One of his favorite things to do with you, is to slow dance. There's something so intimate and special about it. It could be late into the evening, when everyone else had gone to their respective rooms for the night, If you listen closely though, you’ll hear the soft hum of music coming from Alastor’s den, he has you in his arms, the both of you gently sway in a slow waltz across the room to the quiet love songs emitting from his radio. It’s here that you truly savor these private moments with him.

Speaking of music, Al loves to sing to you. Oftentimes it may be a ballad or love song, and if you join in with him? He’ll fall for you even more. 

Cooking! He loves to whip up all his favorite dishes just for you, oftentimes you’ll help him in the kitchen, even if it’s the smallest thing. It's become an annual thing you two like to do together. He makes sure that you get only the best meat that this side of hell can provide.

He’ll often call you a mix of different pet names, here's a few of his favorites: Cher, Darling, Beloved, Dearest, Love, Mon Amour, Doll

Which btw on the topic of meat, Al is canonically a cannibal, he’ll often eat demon meat in his meals, and will have you try it at least once.

Admittedly has gotten slightly jealous of his own shadow. The mischievous thing was always trying to steal your attention away from him, oftentimes it would work, you would always give in and humor him, saying that ‘Even his shadow needed some loving too!’. With a strained smile, Alastor shoots a glare at the inky mass of himself, who just looks at him with a smug grin.

Will have you meet Rosie at least once. She’s one of his other closest friends, and a real sweetheart. At first she comes off as really scary and intimidating. but the more you get to know her, and she's for certain that you wont hurt her friend, she’s much more friendlier. 

You two actually bond together somewhat, having little chats about Alastor occasionally, or about her business.

It’s safe to say that this man would kill hundreds if not thousands for you. You have him wrapped around your little finger. If you ever have someone bothering you, they might as well already be dead, because this man will hunt them down like prey. And eat them too.

Honestly, Alastor as a lover is nothing short of wholesome. He’s so attentive and caring when it comes to you. Which is so refreshing to see, especially coming from one of hell’s most feared overlords. Things will most likely start of slow, but if you’re patient with him, all the hard work will be rewarded tenfold. He had initially thought the Princess of Hell’s Hotel was one of the biggest jokes of the century, but what he wasn't expecting was you to be one of the best things to come out of it. You both were cast down to suffer an eternal damnation in hell, but at least now you can endure it together <3.

[saetoru]

Tee imagine being vash’s first kiss :(

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。FIRST — VASH THE STAMPEDE.

「 SYNOPSIS 」 ⋮ vash has never fallen in love—not before you, that is (2.1k words)

☽ contents ⋮ mutual pining, slightly jealous vash (of nicholas), confessions, fluff

☽ notes ⋮ i don’t even think this has anything to do with the ask anymore LMAO i got carried away but here <3

“nico, get your grimy fingers off my share,” you huff, shoving nicholas’s fingers away from the last few bites of your lunch.

food is scarce these days—more so than usual, and you don’t even try to hide your hunger when you finally find a place to grab a bite. vash eyes you as your lips are curled into a soft frown, the crinkle of your brows making his throat dry—because you’re cute, even with a look of pure irritation on your face, you’re soft and angelic and you make his heart skip a beat.

“c’mon, give me a bite or two,” nicholas chuckles, sneaking his way back to reach for your share of food, “you try carrying that big ol’ cross around all day.”

this time, you slap his hand away, huffing as you shift closer to vash to put extra distance between you and nicholas. vash has to keep himself from leaning in when he feels the warmth of your body radiate against him at the proximity.

“oh, you’re such a jackass, y’know?” you grumble, rolling your eyes at the easy chuckle nicholas gives you. but vash can see it—the beginnings of a smile you try (and fail) to fight back as you shake your head. “you’re the one who insists on carrying such a flashy weapon.”

“well it saved your pretty little head a few times didn’t it?” he shoots back. nicholas is easy to talk to like that, banter filling the air between you as you dance around each other with petty taunts and sly grins and stolen touches through pokes to the forehead.

vash thinks the only time he’s ever touched you is to pull you away from danger. in fact, he thinks it’d be easier to fight off an entire city after him than pluck the courage to reach out and flick your forehead the way nicholas does. it’s so smooth, so simple, so natural—and he can from tell the way your eyes soften for nicholas that it must be love.

he glances down at his food, feels his appetite dwindle and his chest tighten, and soon enough there’s an extra share of food pressed to your hand as he stands up.

“i’m not hungry,” he smiles softly, “you have it.”

you blink for a moment before opening your mouth to protest. “but vash—”

he’s off before you can finish talking, climbing into the van and closing the door while everyone stares after his figure and blinks. you frown, looking back at nicholas who only grins wider, holding a hand out for the half eaten dinner in your hold.

“well, don’t be greedy. share the goods,” he insists.

you roll your eyes, pulling away from his outstretched hand as you glare at him.

“something’s wrong,” you announce. meryl and roberto share a look, glancing quickly between you and nicholas again before continuing eating, making your brows furrow. “you guys know, don’t you?”

“everyone does, sweet cheeks,” nicholas chuckles, shaking his head, “you’re a bit more oblivious than i thought.”

“and what’s that supposed to mean?” you glare, but he only eyes you with amusement, turning back to finish the last few bites of his dinner before standing up and walking off, mumbling about needing a smoke under his breath.

you stare back at the van, unsure whether or not you’re supposed to go after vash—whether or not he even wants you there. it takes you a few moments of contemplation before you ultimately stand up, earning a look from meryl and a sigh from roberto.

“i’m gonna go after him,” you announce.

it doesn’t take long to walk up to the van and climb in, finding vash sitting slouched on his side of the back seat, looking out the window. he almost looks…defeated—it’s a type of vash you don’t think you’ve ever really seen.

“vash?” you ask softly, making him tense for a moment before he glances at you, offering a poor attempt of a reassuring smile.

you don’t think vash has ever successfully hidden an emotion ever in his life. for as long as you’ve known him—though it’s not been that long—he’s worn his heart on his sleeve and his emotions bared before you whether he means to or not. you sit down beside him, staring at your lap as he stares out the window again.

“hey,” he says quietly, “why aren’t you with everyone else?”

“why aren’t you?” you counter gently.

“ah, well,” he chuckles nervously, painfully aware of how close your knees are from brushing, “just wanted to sit. and think, i guess,” he says quietly.

“about what?”

“just stuff,” he mumbles.

he doesn’t want to tell you he thinks about how he must be in love with you, doesn’t want to admit as much when you’ve clearly got someone else in your heart. vash has never fallen in love—but he thinks if he’d have to give the feeling a label, it’d be you.

he thinks it has to be love when the first pair of eyes he searches for are yours, making sure you’re okay before he even thinks about checking on anyone else. what else could it be besides love when even if for a split second, the very thought of you being in danger makes his gun leave its holster and ready to aim. if not love, he’s not sure what else it could be when he’s so nervous around you, he feels words stick to his throat like he’s choking.

vash has never fallen in love before, but there’s no mistaking this feeling now that it hits him.

you’re kind—maybe a bit more than you should be to him since he does nothing but drag you into danger. the rational part of him wishes you’d stop coming with him wherever he goes, it hopes you’ll see you have so much to live for outside of cleaning up his messes. the more desperate part of him feels nauseous at the idea of you going your separate ways—he can protect you, can’t he? the desert is a dangerous place with or without him and if you’re in danger one way or another, you should stick by his side where he can keep an eye on you.

no, vash has never been in love—but he’s sure as hell seen it happen before his own two eyes in the many, many years he’s lived.

and he knows you’re in love with nicholas with one painful glance.

“c’mon vash,” you nudge his shoulder with your own, “we’re friends, i know you better than that. something’s wrong. are you upset about what those people in that last town said to you? because i’ll march right up to them and give them hell and back if—”

friends.

he’s tuned you out, too hyper focused on that awful burning sensation pooling in his chest, the one that hits him as soon as you use that cruel word. of course vash is just your friend, why wouldn’t he be? he can’t remember the last time someone actually wanted him around at all let alone as something more.

he doesn’t even notice your hand reaching for his until it lays over his fist, gently unclamping it from the fabric of his coat. he doesn’t even notice he’s been fisting it this whole time, doesn’t even notice his shoulders are tense until you lean your head on it.

“you don’t have to tell me,” you murmur gently, “i’ll wait here with you.”

“why?” he can’t help but ask, can’t help but wonder why you care to spend your time here when you could be there. with nicholas. without him.

“because i care about you.” you say it like it’s obvious, like he should already know that.

perhaps he does—you do care about him, he can see it with the way you help clean his wounds and scold him for being reckless…just maybe not in the way he wishes you would.

“are you ever going to tell nicholas how you feel?” he asks.

you sit up, shock on your face and a crease in your brows as you stare at him in bewilderment. he almost thinks he’s asked something out of line, something he should apologize for. but before he can offer you a stuttered apology, you beat him to it.

“what?” you chuckle. “do i look like i feel something for nicholas?”

“you don’t?” he sounds shocked, making you blink.

“no,” you shake your head, grimacing like the idea is an unpleasant one. “he’s a nuisance i tolerate at best.”

“oh,” is all he says, surprised. it’s silent for a moment before he hesitantly asks, “is…is there someone?”

he doesn’t want to know the answer either way. yes means the pain of knowing there’s someone else he has to let you go to. no means it’s not him even with no one else to compete with at all. but he figures whether your answer is yes or no, it’s enough to force him to let go.

“well…” you hesitate for a moment, inhaling before letting out a shaky breath and slumping back to his shoulder, “can i be honest?”

“of course,” he says instantly.

“i don’t know how you’ll take it,” you admit quietly, and he can hear the slight shakiness in your voice—like you’re nervous, like what you’re about to say will change everything.

but vash knows no matter what you’ll say, no matter what you’ll ever do, he’ll still keep loving you even if you don’t need him to.

“is it embarrassing?”

“no,” you shake your head, “well, maybe a little. depends on how you react. i might look stupid.”

“can’t be worse than running out of bullets,” he smiles softly, “i bet i looked pretty stupid then.”

“a little,” you admit, giggling. and then you both laugh softly, your cheek against his shoulder and your hand gently clasped over his. distantly, you can hear nicholas ask where you are—and you know it’s not long before you’ll lose this rare moment alone. so you take a deep breath, stare at your hand over his as you mumble, “i think i love you. a little. actually, that’s a lie—a lot. like, a whole lot.”

he blinks.

he feels his breath hitch and your shoulders tense and his heart race all at once. for a second he thinks he might’ve heard you wrong—but then you whisper how you understand if he doesn’t feel the same way, how it’s okay, really! you understand, it’s not his fault and you can still be friends because you’re fine with friends. just as long as he’s still in your life because he’s important to you and friends is better than nothing at all.

and then he cuts you off with a soft chuckle, making you pause and glance up at him with doubt on your face.

“can i be honest too?” he smiles gently, melting your heart even as it shatters just a little in your chest.

“of course,” you whisper.

“i love you too. not a little though. a lot. i thought you had a thing for nicholas, though—”

“nico is rude and smells like smoke. i wouldn’t kiss him if my life depended on it,” you interrupt with a crinkle of your nose, making him chuckle with bright eyes and love scribbled over the curves of his features.

he leans in, presses his forehead to yours and closes his eyes when your hand cups a cheek gently.

“good,” he murmurs, “but don’t worry, i’ll keep you safe. your life will never depend on kissing him.”

“good,” you hum, “because i only want to kiss you.”

and then you do, slow and sweet and so in love. it’s his first kiss—he doesn’t really know what to do, but he follows your lead and learns fast, soft lips molding with yours and mingling your warm breath with his. vash doesn’t even care he’s gone this long without feeling something as gentle as being in love. he’s in love now, with you—and he’s glad you love him too and not nicholas wolfwood, the man who keeps trying to steal dinner from under your nose.

“are you two done in there already?” nicholas is pounding on the door, making you pull away with a sour look on your face. “we got places to be. better not be baby making where i’m about to sleep.”

“can’t you make one exception and kill him?” you whine, making vash chuckle before he leans to kiss you again, more chaste this time. and again, and again.

vash has never fallen in love—and he’s sure it’s because he was meant to wait this long to fall in love with you.

© hanmas do not plagiarize, repost, translate to other sites, or recommend on platforms outside tumblr such as tik tok

[froggoon]

The one where he over hears you I Five x reader

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚

Short five x reader fluff ( non descriptive ) where he overhears you and Klaus talking about him.

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You had met Klaus in a night of drinking gone wrong. After working your menial 9-5 having your boss yell at you in front of your coworkers then having a stressful presentation, there was nothing else you needed more than to drink the day away. There you met Klaus, he was funny and charming. The two of you got sucked into a drinking competition due to his comment "You look like a lightweight." The rest of the night was a blur between you dancing on tables and hopping from bar to bar. It was only after you both woke up the next day in the park looking like zombies you decided that fun night was meant to be.

A few months later you became really good friends and hung out often. After finding out about his drug habit and Dave, you two decided that distracting him with fun times would be a better solution than cold turkey. It became routine for you to go to the Hargreeves estate after work with a sweet treat, maybe cookies, ice cream, or a movie night. Some nights Klaus would even go to your place just needing a safe space. He said your apartment felt like what a real home should be like.

You don't know when this happened, maybe slowly, or maybe one day you just noticed something. But Five, Klaus's older younger brother was...hot. You knew about Five's little... situation and honestly, it was the best of both worlds. You liked older men who could take care of you and he was easy on the eyes. He was taller than you and had green eyes that bore into you when he talked. His voice could be soft and smooth almost a whisper in your ear. Other times it was an insult thrown at his sibling or a sly comment that you could feel lit a fire in your gut.

This would be a thing you kept to yourself though, not like Five would notice you.

He did notice you. The minute you walked through the academy doors with Klaus slinging off your arm, laughter ringing through his ear. You were pretty. Your smile caught his eye first. Sure the eyes are the windows to the soul but the smile is the mirror of the heart. He didn't know why you would spend all your time with Klaus but he noticed a lack in his brother's desire to be high. Not wanting to entertain whatever fantasy his time travel fried brain might cook up, Five avoided you at all costs. At the academy, you would only then catch glimpses of him, a flash of blue, or a blurred jacket swiftly moving by. You were just too good for him, and you deserve a normal man who could give you a normal life without all the baggage.

It wasn’t until that afternoon where you and Klaus were lying in the foyer trying to find what movie to watch when he turned to you and asked “So what do you like about ole Fivey anyways?”

You snapped your head so fast towards him. “What gave you the impression that I liked him?”

Klaus flipped to his stomach, kicked his feet in the air, and with a sly look replied “Oh come on I see the way you look at him when you think no one is looking. I’m your best friend just tell me.” He pouted in your direction, the kind of pout that said "I'm not going to give up on this."

Five was about to retreat to his room after grabbing coffee from the kitchen when he overheard you and Klaus.

“Uh, he’s hot, smart, a bit cocky and arrogant but in a sexy way. I don’t know Klaus what do you want me to say?” Um, who the fuck were you talking about. You never mentioned another man before or posted anything on your social media ( not like he was checking). Anyman definitely wouldn't like your friendship with Klaus.

“Doesn’t help I love an older man. They always have a mature take-charge mentality. It turns me on." Klaus gave you a sly look that said "Oh ! Naughty" but you continued,

"Anyways, I see the way Five cares for you guys in his own way. He loves you more than he lets on. Family men are also attractive, it shows the way they'll treat you.”

A bit embarrassed that he was angry at the guy, the guy being himself, Five chuckled to himself. You were so confident and beautiful yet, thought that much of someone like him? Mentally old enough to be your dad? He did feel an ego boost when you called him hot.

Five felt like if he stayed any longer you would be able to hear his heart pounding and call him out for eavesdropping. He turned to blink into his bedroom opening up his laptop that Viktor so kindly helped him figure out how to use. Fingers typed into the search bar closest flower shop near me and Italian fine dining. ( disclaimed : I didn't reread/ edit year I probably will tomorrow morning, i just wanted to get this out)

[mouseymilkovich]

Speechless | Carmy x Reader | Chapter Five

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Chapter Summary: A party with a night of fun, a thoughtful gift — some missed texts. Tears, cookies, and nightmares. It's all been leading up to this. It's all about to come undone. | Carmy Berzatto x fem/afab reader (using they/them pronouns)

Content Tags: Mentions of birth control again, drinking, kinda public sex, fingering, m receiving oral, mentions of vomit, mentions of periods

Important Info: when texting pink = reader, green = Sydney, blue = Carmy, purple = Marcus! All party goers are over 21

Chapter Five: Come Undone

Word Count: 3k

BONUS PLAYLIST — experience syd's birthday party along with everybody by listening along <3 **disclaimer i know joyride wouldn't technically be out yet when this is set but i do not care, it is serving cunt

inspo/sleepover req for the beginning of this chapter

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Something you'd decided on was going back on birth control. Carmy nailing you without a condom felt like pure heaven, but you didn't wanna get a plan B pill every freaking morning after. It was a little bit of an adjustment, but you knew it'd be better in the long run.

It was Sydney's birthday, and of course you were going. There was also The Beef staff — including Carmy. Some more of your friends from high school and college all came too, all of you wanting to celebrate Sydney on her day. The club was... really not usually Carmy's scene, it would appear.

As Sydney danced with Tina, you sidled up next to Carmy, sitting awkwardly at the bar.

"You, uh, feeling a little... out of place, Carm?" You laughed softly.

"I don't think I've ever been to a club in my life other than catering a bachelor party with Richie." He muttered in response.

"Let's get a little liquid courage into you then, yeah?" You giggled before ordering a round of drinks.

"I-I dunno, 'm not much of a drinker..." Carmy muttered softly.

"I won't force you, but it is a party, Carm." You said softly with a little smile.

You glanced over your shoulder as Marcus called you to dance, then smiled at Carmy as you pranced away with your drink. Thankfully, Sydney and most of your high school and college friends were all fairly smashed by now so the flirting between you and Carmy went fairly unnoticed.

Carmy relented and downed his shot, then came to join you on the dancefloor. He was dancing like an awkward college boy — which was a mixture of hilarious and a bit embarrassing, but mostly hilarious.

"Do you even know how to dance?" You asked him as Marcus got swept away by one of your drunk friends.

"Not a damn clue." He confessed with an embarrassed laugh.

You laughed loudly, then set down your empty glass. You grabbed Carmy's shoulders, pressing yourself close to him and starting to dance. "Just feel the music!"

Carmy's breath hitched with you so close to him and everybody so nearby, the short length of your skirt was not helping.

"Relax. They're all fucking drunk— even Ebra!" You told him, motioning to Ebra surrounded by various girls... he looked like he was having a great time, at least.

Of course, that's when some good ol' Y2K club vibes began, Shake That blaring over the speakers. Something about the song coming on got you going— in more ways than one.

"Who the fuck requested this?!" You laughed loudly, then earned a cheer from Richie who was also dancing with some of your friends.

You were so unsurprised and unphased by your friends being all over both Ebra and Richie.

Carmy couldn't help chuckling at how excited you got over the song coming on. Then, got a little excited himself by the way you were dancing on him to the song.

"Jesus." He muttered. Thank god the club was dark, and your ass pressed against him could hide how turned on he was.

"What'sa matter, Carm?" You muttered, tipsy and teasing.

"N-Nothing, nothing..." Carmy insisted, clearing his throat.

You smirked a little bit at him, a fun little idea coming to your head. "Hey, you ever done body shots?"

"Wha— no? What in the hell even is a body shot?" He asked, which made you burst into a fit of giggles.

Then, you motioned to the bar, where... Richie had gone, and was doing a body shot off of one of your friends. Huh.

"That, chef, is a body shot." You grinned, nudging Carmy while Richie was cheering.

You weren't sure how you actually roped Carmy into doing it, but he did a body shot off you. And it was fucking electrifying. His face was red, a mixture from the alcohol and embarrassment from having actually doing it.

"Holy shit!" You heard Sydney yell drunkenly with a loud laugh. Thank god she was beyond hammered.

Of course, Carmy doing a body shot off you had your panties drenched. So, the second everybody's backs were turned and you were sure nobody would notice you, you dragged Carmy to whatever bathroom was closest— you really didn't give a shit which one it was, nobody was in there, that's all that mattered.

You pressed Carmy against the locked door, kissing him hungrily.

"What's gotten into you all'a the sudden?" He asked breathlessly between kisses.

"I really don't care that we're in public." You muttered against his lips. "I fucking need you now."

Carmy had you sitting awkwardly on one of the sinks, one hand spreading your thighs and the other finding its way into your underwear.

"Fuck, y're such a slut, huh? All wet f'me." He groaned.

He wasn't easing you in, two fingers were already deep inside you and you were moaning like a damn banshee.

"F-Fuck, Carm!" You cried out.

You had to hand it to the guy, he was an expert with his hands.

A third digit entered your cunt, and you started clenching around him. The smirk on Carmy's face made you blush.

"Gonna cum already? C'mon, make a mess." He purred.

He dragged you through your high, fucking you and teasing you to make it all the more enjoyable. After he pulled his fingers from you, he held them to your lips with an expectant look.

"Clean my fingers. This is your mess."

You, unable to find words, simply parted your lips and let Carmy shove his fingers into your mouth. Once his fingers were clean, he pulled them from your mouth and pulled you in for another deep kiss, wanting to taste your own slick from your mouth.

"At least let me take care of you before we leave the bathroom. You look... sore." You teased, palming his tented bulge which made him hiss.

"Y-Yeah, okay— please." His whine was a total shift from a moment ago, but fuck it sounded good.

You sank to your knees as he undid and lowered the jeans he had on. Your hand gently wrapped around his shaft, and you gave a little kitten lick to his leaking slit.

"Please don't tease me—" Carmy whimpered, one hand gripping at his own curls in desperation.

You giggled a little at the way he sounded — it was oddly adorable. It was a sound you liked, for sure. But, you decided not to tease him— too much more.

Your lips wrapped around his tip, suckling and teasing him for just a moment longer to draw out those whimpers before you took him all the way in— or, rather, as far as you could, given his size.

The dim lights and the angle you were at made it hard to see the obscene look on Carmy's face, but hearing his noises was pure bliss. Before long, you were swallowing his load and wiping drool from your chin.

"Fuck..." Carmy breathed out.

Once you cleaned yourselves up, you inconspicuously left the bathroom one at a time. Just in time for Sydney's cake to come out— thank god you hadn't missed it.

Thankfully, everybody had a little water with only small pieces of cake so nobody would be puking their guts out to follow.

Everything was winding down in the early hours of the morning, you were gonna take Sydney back to your place to both not wake her father, and keep an eye on her in her drunken state. You'd stayed a bit more sober near the end of the night for that reason.

You felt a little bad for not spending the night with Carmy, but you'd already committed to Sydney this time, plus, you owed it to her for her birthday. You also had her gift waiting at your place for the morning.

When she woke up, you'd been awake for an hour— water and Aspirin at the ready for her.

"I feel like I got hit by a bus." Syd groaned as she sat on your couch.

You stifled a laugh, giving her the water and painkillers. "Yeah, you went pretty hard last night. I'm almost impressed."

"Almost?" She asked with mock offense.

You rolled your eyes with a smile, then finally handed her a small giftbox.

"I told you not to get me anything." Syd muttered.

"Well, that's bullshit, cus you're my best friend, so I'm getting you a damn birthday gift." You replied firmly. "Open it!"

Once she opened it, she saw matching friendship bracelets that you'd gotten. Similar to ones you'd made each other at a middle school sleepover— except these were handcrafted from a small jewelery business, not just some plastic beads on a string.

"This is... these are..." She whispered, then hugged you tightly. "Thank you."

"I love you, Syd." You said softly.

"I love you too. So much."

Now, a few days later and Carmy was spending another night at your place, he was making you dinner. Almost the entire time he was complaining about what a disaster your kitchen was. It made you laugh, but man was it ever stressing him out. Finally, you two sat down to dinner and unsurprisingly, it was delicious.

Everything was going well, but unbeknownst to you, your phone had been blowing up all night. You'd had it on silent, you had no idea.

hey!! my dad wanted to take us out for dinner, you in?

...

hello?

...

this isn't like you not to answer, you're freaking me out dude

...

okay, c'mon this isn't funny

...

i'm coming over.

As you settled onto the couch with Carmy, you had no idea that Sydney was basically right outside your building. She came up the stairs, and...

"What the fuck?" Was all you heard as you turned pale. Sydney had a spare key to your place, you had a spare key to hers — you hadn't even heard the door open.

You whipped around, looking at Sydney with pleading eyes. "Syd, I... I can explain."

"This is why you've been so busy, huh?!" She sounded hurt — of course she did, that shouldn't have surprised you.

Ever since that breakfast, other than her birthday, you'd been blowing her off constantly; not on purpose, and not every single time, but most plans just happened to coincide. You didn't want to hurt your best friend, you'd never dream of hurting her. Yet here she was, in the doorway of your apartment, looking as if you'd just driven a knife through her heart.

"Sydney, please, you have to let me explain—"

"Fuck you." She scowled at you, then looked at Carmy and silently shook her head. She whipped around to leave your apartment, and you chased her out, down the hall of your building.

"Syd! C'mon, I didn't mean for you to find out like this!" You pleaded.

"You mean you didn't mean for me to find out at all. We used to tell each other fucking everything!" Sydney snapped back, her voice cracking. It was true, you did tell each other everything...

Your eyes welled with tears, words caught in your throat like a huge lump.

"Do you love him?" She asked quietly.

You looked at her in shock. "What—? Syd, what kind of fucking question is that?! It hasn't been that long—"

"When did it start?" She frowned.

"The... day I was really hungover..." You whispered, looking at the ground. "I didn't mean for it to happen, Syd, you have to understand. I tried to do anything to get him out of my head, but it just happened..."

"I don't even care that you're seeing him! I care that you didn't fucking tell me." Sydney hissed.

"I didn't want you to think he was giving you special treatment cus of me or anything!" You defended, but sounded sort of weak, thinking about it now.

"Fuck you." She spat again. The last thing she did before she turned to leave your building, was shove the bracelet from her birthday back into your hands, then just left you in the hall.

You went back to your apartment after a moment. You'd hoped maybe she would turn around and come back, but no. So, you re-entered your apartment, looking pitiful and sad.

"Is everything okay?" Carmy asked you quietly.

"Of course it's not okay! She's pissed at me!" You whimpered as you crashed down onto the couch, covering your face.

Carmy frowned. "Maybe... she just needs some time to cool down? Maybe try talking to her tomorrow?"

You sighed a little, and nodded. "Yeah... yeah, that's a good idea. Thanks Carm..."

Still, you couldn't fight the tears that came to your eyes. The thought that you might be losing your best friend made you feel absolutely sick to your stomach. You and Syd had gone through just about everything together — first days of school, first crushes, first periods, first serious relationships — every first, every second, everything that followed, you were together. Even when you were apart for college, you spoke every day. You were there when Sheridan Road started, you were there when it failed and fell apart.

This truly was the first time you'd kept anything serious from her... and now, you were paying the price.

That night, while Carmy slept next to you, you laid awake. Wide awake. Replaying everything in your head—

"This is why you've been so busy, huh?!"

"We used to tell each other fucking everything!"

"Do you love him?"

"I don't even care that you're seeing him! I care that you didn't fucking tell me!"

Tears came to your eyes again, hearing the words ringing in your ears, remembering the look on Sydney's face. You were sure you hadn't seen her that upset since Sheridan Road — maybe that's part of what made this hurt so badly.

Before Carmy had to leave for work the next morning, he insisted on making you some breakfast. You repeated how you weren't hungry, but he made you something anyhow.

"Please eat. Please." He pleaded before he had to leave. He gave you a gentle, parting kiss on the forehead, then slipped out the door.

You didn't even wanna know what would be happening at The Beef today.

All day, you'd been staring at your phone. Unsure if you should text Sydney, wanting her to text you, and you ignored every other message that came your way — even Carmy's.

hey, missing you. text me when you can please.

is everything okay? syd seems really upset, she just told me to ask you when i asked.

Tears pricked your eyes again when you read the text from Marcus. Of course, you weren't sure how to respond... how could you even explain everything over text?

Later on, there was a knock at your door. You were expecting it to be Carmy, hoping maybe it was Sydney — instead though, you were surprised to see Marcus, with a plate of fresh baked cookies.

"You can't hide in here forever, yknow." Marcus said as he made his way inside, not really waiting for an invitation.

"I really want to." You muttered softly, shutting the door once Marcus was inside.

You made some hot drinks for both of you to go with the cookies, then sat together on the couch. He looked sympathetic, he knew something was wrong, otherwise he wouldn't be here.

"So, are you gonna tell me what happened?" He asked softly.

You took a deep breath, and started to talk — and once you started, you couldn't stop. It was like word vomit. You'd explained that the moment you met Carmy, he wouldn't leave your brain. You told him how you'd tried so hard to ignore this little school girl crush, for the sake of your sanity, for the sake of your friendship with Sydney. Then when the incident in the office happened, there was no going back. You and Carmy had this secret fling going on under everybody's noses. Then, you had to tell Marcus why exactly that made Sydney so upset. That you'd told each other everything, you had been through all of these ups and downs of your lives together, and this whole secret thing with Carmy broke something there. She wasn't upset that it happened, she was upset that you kept it from her.

After you spilled your guts, you leaned back against the couch and took a deep breath. Everything was out in the open — it felt like a bit of a weight off your chest, despite still being upset.

"That sounds... intense." Marcus commented before taking a sip of his drink. "Um, I'm kinda surprised you're holding up at all."

You sighed, clutching one of the throw pillows on your couch. "Am I a bad person?"

Marcus sort of looked at you funny, but shook his head. "Of course not. You're human. Humans... have feelings, and they rationalize things weirdly. Everybody does it... even if they don't admit it, they do."

You smiled weakly. "Thanks, Marcus. I really appreciate you being here for me... I know how much you like Syd."

"Hey, I'm not gonna pick sides in something I'm not technically involved in—"

"Yeah, that's not what I meant... I mean I've seen the way you look at Syd." You interrupted with a little giggle.

That made Marcus blush. "I-I don't know what you're talking about—"

"Bullshit. I see right through you, dude." You laughed.

"Okay, okay, just... don't tell her. Please." He pleaded.

"Of course not. Secret's safe with me." You smiled softly, holding out your pinky to him.

Marcus eventually had to leave, but he did leave you the cookies, which was nice. You definitely appreciate the kindness he showed you, he really was a sweetheart.

So, you spent the rest of the night indulging in those and watching stupid movies, anything to get your mind off of this. In fact, you ended up just falling asleep on the couch— but that was probably a good thing, if you'd gone to bed, you probably would've opened the floodgates of your thoughts all over again.

At least you were getting some sleep.

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

tags ; @maggiesarchives @carmenberzattosgf @buendiabebeta

wanna be tagged in any future speechless trilogy updates? leave 🫢 + an @ to tag in my askbox !

[skele-bunny]

The council has spoken.

RRAAA ALPHABELL!!!! ( Tiny tag: @ourfatherwhoartinhell , @artificialmoth !) they are CHEESY. And they are in LOVE!! I refuse to hear otherwise.

It was a strange welcome when Cowbell joined the group on tour, just all smiles and waving. Just excited to be out of the abbey and experience something he never really "qualified" for. Just staring out the window and always asking questions. Never really bothered the others, they've been around Bell for a LONG time. But it's such a new light to see their elder in such a new state of pure wonder and curiosity, especially to Alpha.

Alpha's always been curious about Bluebell to be honest, just her mannerisms and how he engages with the world on such a different view than other ghouls. How he's more human just like Special. They've always gotten along, never had any issues but it's just... Something about being stuck on the road for such a long time, together, that Alpha starts feeling a bit weird about it all.

He's suddenly more aware of her. Of how she smiles, his stuffy laugh, how she clings to Terzo's shirt when in a new place, how when he takes his hearing aids out he seems SO much calmer while looking out the window. Just how Bell seems to be an entirely different person. His staring being noticed by the others and teased about it, just getting eye rolls and shooing them away.

"Big dog crushing on the sheep? Aww!" Omega just snickering before Alpha kicks him off the couch in the lounge.

Alpha does NOT have feelings for Bluebell. He's adamant about that!! Just because his face warms up every time they make eye contact, just because he felt his heart go a bit faster when Bell held his arm as Terzo was unavailable, just because she fell asleep on his chest while watching a movie and he adjusted to where her head wouldn't fall, just because he's daydreaming about the null ghoul almost constantly, doesn't mean he... Has... ... Fuck.

He's head over heels, isn't he?

Bell being the first one to make Alpha's fire go blue for the first time...... Just admiring as they're bunked together in a hotel, Alpha cupping a small flame and Bell carefully reaching forward to touch it and oh man... How her eyes lit up as it turned to a gentle blue, dancing over his fingertips before he pulled back. Alpha is blushing HARDCORE. They just keep eye contact for a minute, Alpha hesitating if he should lean forwards or not. Just as he's about to, Aër knocks at their door and Alpha combusts all over again. (Aër doesn't hear the end of it from the others for interrupting them trying to matchmake.)

Finally he gets the balls the last week of tour, Bell so burnt out and tired but happy and eager when Alpha asks him; "Would you like to go to dinner with me?"

Bell's never been good at holding glamour for long let alone being in super crowded spaces (they learned that VERY quickly at the start), but Alpha's aware of that! Just orders something to go at some little diner and walks to the park, just the two of them laughing and talking — even to the point Bluebell starts rambling about a new pack of buttons she got from Terzo a few days ago. And he's ALL for it. Just watching with admiration as she's info dumping about all kinds of buttons she has. 2-holes, 4-holes, snap buttons, you name it! Just going on and on about what they're best used for and rocking back and forth.

"What's this button good for?" Just shows his flannel and Bell gets close, just admiring with a big ole smile.

"It's a shank button which means it makes everything go more flat, more smooth, and provides a pretty look!" And she just looks up, cheeks red before finally mumbling out. "I think it works well... You really do look pretty.."

And Alpha just sighs. "I think you look pretty, too... All the time, really."

They're just staring before Bell reaches his hands up, fingers so gentle as he runs over his stubble and jawline. Alpha finally taking the moment to lean in with such space first just in case Bell pulls away. But he doesn't. So Alpha finishes it. Holds her hips so gently before pulling back and they're both just a smiling, laughing mess before Bell literally jumps on Alpha, just kissing him over and over again. They just walk back hand-in-hand, a smile that can't be removed. The entire ride home they're inseparable, Bell just tapping his chest before pointing at her mouth, indicating for a kiss.

"If I see them do it one more time I think the bus is going to end up Valentine's themed." And Aër just gets a pillow thrown at him by Omega.

Alpha loves Bell AS Bell. Not as anything else. Loves her when she's deaf, loves her when her hearing aids are in. Loves him when he's overstimulated, loves him when he's under stimulated, loves him when he's content. Loves hearing his rambles about buttons and weapons. Especially loves watching her small sheep tail just go 100 mph almost all the time.

Bell loves him just as much. Always getting excited when he stops by to visit her and literally picking him up to hug. How he'll get all embarrassed when Alpha does a pushup with her on his back. Just making gifts for him CONSTANTLY that he shows off soooo proudly, specifically when Bell hand carved a burning rose for him. Always whiny when they're away but bursting with joy when he comes back and flops into Bell's arms. Just slowly tracing down his scars from the pits and some topside, kissing each one and purring.

They're so good at taking care of each other's needs, too ;-;. Alpha knowing when to not touch or warm up his hands to help center Bell down. Bell knowing how to calm Alpha down when he has rage fits. How Bell will let Alpha hold his tiny tail or run fingers through his fur, just as much Alpha lets her run her fingers over his horns and jaw again.

GAAHH tall gf and short bf & sheep and herding dog trope my beloved..... Idk man I just love them a lot wjjwjd

[ssparksflyy]

OMG BELLS REQS ARE OPEN AAAA

literally any kind of Leo x latina reader please cause im just in love with how you write him

ask and thou shall receive ༉‧₊˚.

leo valdez dating hcs! ✶ ࣪˖࿐ *

pairing: leo valdez x latina!reader warning(s): swearin + gringas this one aint for u pookies ♡♡ a/n: BRO. i had to rewrite this completely twice bcs i kept on forgetting to save it nd it would all delete 😭 also ty girlie ♡

leo valdez, certified loverboy

his lips gotta be surgically detached from you cause damn

this boy loves kissing u

big big fan of u wearing lipgloss/lipstick cause then it gets on his lips nd leaves him all heart eyes

its like his own lil trophy

nd hey it reminds the other girlies that hes taken !! not available !! go find someone else !!

so u best believe u do it w a SMIRK.

best dance partner to ever dance partner

his hands go all over u girl

but that usual firm grip on ur waist omfg 😵‍💫😵‍💫

also does not gaf if he feels like his legs r about to fall off, if u wanna keep dancing then dance he shall

only other people he would dance w are little kids who ask him to ♡

good asf with kids im afraid

he claims that its because their imaginations are still big, hence making it easier for him to actually enjoy having a conversation with them instead of like ... politics ( hes never had a convo about politics )

he so wouldve loved spending time with family if he had the chance :((

he so becomes besties w ur mama tho ♡♡

( if shes mortal ofc )

they instantly clicked when u introduced them to each other :))

ur mom loves how sweet he is nd how much he cares abt you ♡

you left for a second to go to the restroom nd came back to the comadres looking at baby pics

like ?? u left for 2 seconds ??

wdym hes already getting the family chisme shes just met this man ??

its that leo valdez charm or somethin

cause like if ur dads a mortal he also really likes him 😭

ofc hes gotta pull the whole overprotective dad bit first

but once they get talking he slowly gets more comfortable w him :))

he also appreciates how much he cares nd how he puts u first ♡♡

i feel like mortal parents would just care if they treat u right nd are loyal

or maybe they dont nd actually become stricter

....

who knows anyway back to repair boy

THE roses man

his fav flowers

he thinks it romantic its classy and hey who doesnt love a good red rose

he could spend days making you a bunch of metal flowers nd painting them nd make a bouquet

but he gives u a metal flower everyday !!

so u best believe for special occasions he buys u a big ol ramo of roses nd a cute lil plushie or somethin ♡

v cute v cute v that sould be me

u best believe when u move in together

oh yea. ur future is already planned out together

theres always something bomb for dinner

whether its homemade or ordered in, u eat good every night ♡

"but i cant cook!' dw pooks he can !!

he asked ur parent for ur fav homemade meals nd asked them to teach him how they make it :((

best believe u wake up to breakfast made every weekend

nd ofc all he asks for back is kisses ♡

im tellin u. an addict. cannot get enough. its not normal man

youve got a stash of candies in one of ur cabinets for whenever u crave themmm

constantly gotta restock up tho cause they do NOT last

u guys def talk crap in spanish

i mean obviously , who doesnt

but if u desperately need a gossip sesh but r like surrounded by ppl you whip out the spanish ykyk

sigh, i want a leo valdez ♡♡

a/n two: hope u enjoyed !! idk if these r kinda short but tbh im so sleepy nd havent had good sleep at all this week so im ending it here, have a good day/night !!

peace from manhattan,

percy jackson ♡

[kapposuch]

Domestic!Bad Batch x reader (headcannons)

Warnings: Absolutely none! just utter fluff!

I love these kids, I've adored them since I laid eyes on them and god I want the best for these sweethearts. It's been a long time since I've done anything like this, so if you have constructive criticism for me, please lay it on me! I'd really appreciate it!

Here's the bad batch! hope you enjoy

Hunter

He's very much not used to a domestic setting, especially not one he's sharing with you

but god he wants to do right by you and make sure he doesn't mess things up

constantly cleaning up tiny messes he makes, even if it's not a mess. it's as if he doesn't want anyone to know he's even staying with you. it's not like that, he swears! just military habits

"What's with the state of the Marauder then?"

"You think Wrecker can keep things tidy for ten minutes?"

He's an early bird due to his military routine, so he's often up long before you. expect to be tucked in tight with a cup of caf or tea on its way to you when he hears you stir

but sometimes, he just likes to sit in the absolute bliss of freedom. even if it's for a short time before he has another mission with his brothers, he'll relish the contact and hold you close, cradling you like a babe.

moments like this make him feel alive. and it's all he ever wants.

on the rare occasion you wake up first, seeing him sprawled out on one side of the bed, barely covered by your sheets with unkempt hair and a missing bandana makes you melt. an absolute sight to behold, so you'll lay there and take it all in while you have the chance before those unflattering blacks are back on

no matter whats happening, where you are, or what you're doing around your apartment, he will make it his mission to be in your personal space. he wants to make sure nothing happens, and fears the loss if he steps away for just a moment

constant kisses. Hunter relishes in physical touch, and will always place a kiss on your temples, forehead, hands, cheeks, nose, lips, whatever he can reach the fastest. you'll never forget how devoted this man is to you.

even if he's wearing his whole gear and hasn't taken his head piece off yet, he'll delicately bump it to the top of your head if he's got a good enough angle.

he'll melt if you kiss his helmet. maybe he'd consider asking you to put on some lipstick and throw a big ole smooch onto the filter by his cheek so he can take your love with him to battle

"mark my helmet, would you mesh'la? I want to take you with me while I can"

oh no, your heart is missing, where in the galaxies could it have gone?

sweet angel

Wrecker

Where do I even begin?

it won't be the tidiest arrangement by far, but he will always do his best to pick up after himself, even if it's not very often.

arrange a day where you both tidy, with music in the background, and he'll be so gung-ho about helping you clean up! with the occasional dance number during, of course

he'll give you a spin and a dip, and a big ole smooch! very very smily man, god take care of his heart

words of affirmation turn this sweet giant into a puddle of mush, please compliment him

you'll pick up on a few mandoan terms, and will throw them around here and there while you're busy

"Hand me a towel would you, cyar'ika"

"can you grab me that mug from the top shelf, ner cyare?"

his face will light up, eyes well with tears, and he'll scoop you up into a bone-crushing hug, waddle to the couch, and sit with his face buried in your neck, simply repeating the phrases you say in his head. he'd do anything for you to continue getting these sweet words

he's a little bit of an idiot, so sometimes you have to reassure him if you make a joke that he doesn't quite get. you find it endearing, but he worries you think he's not that smart

you can cup his cheek, stare into his eyes, and praise his wonderful mind

movie nights with mantell mix are a staple for this man's date nights. you'll never escape his embrace while watching movies, but you don't mind. he keeps you warm and safe

sleeping arrangements are as such: you're a little spoon. deal with it. he finds it most comfortable, though some nights he'll roll over and will wake up feeling your forehead on his back, and arms wrapping as far across his body as possible. he finds it utterly adorable, and loves it just as much as sleeping with you on his chest

as long as you're by his side, so that when you wake, you can share kisses and make a cup of caf together for the day ahead

"Don't know what I did t' deserve ya... But I ain't lettin' go. Don't even think 'bout it, cyare."

Tech

clean. freak.

everything should be where it belongs after its used, and even you yourself have to get used to it if you're going to be accommodating his stay for a little while

of course, you accommodate willingly, to which he will always attempt to thank you for it, in his Tech ways

anything broken? not anymore

acts of service make his wizard brain hum with glee, so whenever you have an issue you'd like help with, he's already chomping at the bit and listing all the things he'll need to fix whatever ailes your mind

sleeping beside this man could not be more of a rollercoaster

sometimes he wants to cuddle up close, but other times he does indeed need his space. you've made a promise to always ask and find out what he's looking for, and this man practically melts like putty in your hands. god you're an angel in disguise for this troubled soul

with cuddle time, he'll place his hands where they're most comfortable. if they land somewhere spicy, it's simply because of his arm positioning. he's definitely a big spoon and absolutely relishes in the fact that he can make you feel safe. he doesn't mind if you're the only person in the galaxy that depends on him for safety, because he wouldn't have it any other way.

other nights when he needs his space, he'll lay beside you, fingers laced with yours, and wait for you to fall asleep comfortably. if you're talking for a little while, he pushes eye contact. it's his way of apologising for the lack of snuggles, which is equally taxing, but he wants to remind you that you are his world

absolutely a tea lover, and would just about pass away if you brought him a mug of leaf juice on a morning

always sneaking peeks at you, out of pure adoration. he thinks he hasn't been caught, but you caught him long ago, oogling at you fresh out of the shower wrapped in a towel

nice try Hun, maybe next time

hes leaving for a mission? he will break his internal rules and make a mess of your bed, filling it with blankets, pillows, and any soft items he can find. if he has a spare set of blacks, or even some clothes you bought for him as a casual wardrobe, he will make sure it smells like him so you've got extra comfort until he gets back

always telling you that he'll be back in -insert approximate date- but will forever promise to do his best to get back earlier

he won't call you call you petnames, but the way he says your name is so endearing. he says it with passion, and it melts your heart

"It won't take long. Around two weeks if all goes to plan, which is extremely unlikely due to the nature of the mission. But I do insist, I'll come back to you soon, y/n."

Echo

this absolute darling boy has been through the lot

Echo is a tough one, considering he isn't to big on making himself at home anywhere. he's pretty cut and run nowadays but for you? god he'll do his best

he keeps relatively tidy, making sure to help out with the dishes if you ask, or if you're looking pretty tired. he doesn't want you to push yourself when he could easily do it himself

he absolutely shoves a sponge on his scomp. do not @ me about this, imagine the glass cleaning efficiency of this man, god

he's a vivid enjoyer of quality time. while he can't exactly 100% convince himself that you find him comfortable enough to lay with or cuddle, he will always do his best to let you sit where you wish

he'll often ask that you sit on his right side, so he can hold you in his arm and rub gentle circles into your hip or waist as he gets comfy

he is a sleep avoider. you know he's got a lot in his head, and always wants to keep busy, which you're usually fine with, but when it's time to sleep, you'll always do your best to ramble him to sleep. god, this sweet man needs someone to consume his thoughts to ward off the nightmares

you're a big spoon most nights. not because Echo doesn't like spooning you, because he does, he absolutely adores it, but most often, Echo needs that sort of safety net. having familiar arms and weight around him will help him doze, and it'll chase away the bad thoughts clouding his sleep

when you're lil spoon, he will always nuzzle his face into your hair. the smell of your shampoo, and just you in general, is so comforting.

whenever he wakes up in a cold sweat, he feels bad for dampening the sheets, but as you've learned to wake with him in these situations, you always shush him and suggest he take a warm shower while you switch the sheets out for lovely warm ones

echo in a towel. you insist he makes you hot and bothered, and he does believe you every time you say it. he's starting to believe it, and by god you're helping his self esteem more and more each time he stays with you

before he deploys with the batch on a mission, he sits and stares at you, hand cupping your cheek, eyes flickering back and forth between your own

he likes to drink all of you in while he has the chance, and if ever he's thirsty, all he has to do is remember you

you're the last thing he wants to remember if ever he's faced with something anywhere close to Skako again.

"Ner mesh'la... I'll come back for your eyes alone. wait for me, please"

Crosshair

Where to begin?

Nightmare. he can be like having a teen in your home sometimes. snarky comments and sarcasm up the wazoo, but each one of them threatens to get you riled up

he's not the cleanest, but he will keep things in order a majority of the time, helping out with moving things and taking the bins out whenever you need, just so he can keep tabs on you

sharp shooters have sharp eyes, and his are trained like a hawk on you

he isn't the most affectionate, mostly expressing his love to you through teasing and sarcasm.

he likes commenting on your height, or making remarks on your handiwork with whatever you might be doing, though he never intends to be rude about it

sometimes when he's had an iffy day, or he's out of sorts, he'll wander up behind you and snake his arms around your waist, before he nose dives into your neck

he never does much without your explicit consent, but does cast glances often

let's face it. he does not care about what he's wearing around you. including nothing

"Cross- can you please at least put your briefs on?"

"Can you please keep your eyes off me? Cyar'ika, I thought you knew better."

sleeping goes as follows; if you want to spoon, he'll spoon, and hug you close in his sleep

if you want to lay on your back, your chest becomes free real estate.

oh, those are some comfy looking pillows you have there. big, small, or nothing at all, it's a pillow, and it's his

head on chest, hand on waist, absolute KO. he is not waking up

Cross, on the odd occasion, can feel vulnerable around you. when he's away from his work, he'll talk to you about some of the things that happened, and he knows you'll listen to every word, which he can't express his appreciation for

while you're not allowed to touch his rifle, he'll let you sit by him while he cleans it. in fact, he'll appreciate the company. he always does

"I'm off, cyare. Behave while I'm gone, and we won't have problems."

What a tease

[freyito]

Can you write something where the Smoke's s/o talked him into going to Smoke's hometown together?

yall got me doing so much research for this man, and i love it!!! turns out his hometown is Prague, which i dont know why but i didnt expect. but hey, beautiful city to fit a beautiful man. man now i really wanna go to prague, yall got me ON SOMETHING. update yall when i do lmfaooo

cw: fluff, thats really all, sweet ol' tomas, gn reader, proofread

-𝙎𝙈𝙊𝙆𝙀 𝙍𝙀𝙏𝙐𝙍𝙉𝙎 𝙏𝙊 𝙋𝙍𝘼𝙂𝙐𝙀

At first, Tomas was apprehensive about returning to Prague. It had been a while since he had seen the city. Truth be told, he was a little afraid of change.

But he gives in, especially to you. He figures if he's stayed connected to his Czechian culture, it'd be a wasted opportunity to not go back to Prague.

He admits, his Czech isn't on par with locals anymore, either. Yes, he's studied it and has made it a point to use it, but especially with the Lin Kuei, his English and Chinese out-weigh his Czech. Lucky for you two, about 50% of the population in Prague speaks English, especially waiters. And Tomas is able to cover for the remaining 50%.

Bonus points, if you speak Russian, you get to roughly understand 74% of that 50% of Czech. If you speak Polish, however, you'll only be able to roughly understand about 36%.

Tomas loves the idea of you learning Czech, too. He'll absolutely help, he thinks that it is a really good bonding experience, and it definitely brings you two closer.

Some of the things Tomas is interested in doing when you two end up in Prague is going to the Lobkowicz Palace, an art museum. He definitely wants to explore every little place, but out of the popular tourist attractions, that's the first that caught his eye. He'd also love to see the castle, just out of fascination.

He also takes you to Old Town at night, simply because he thinks it's beautiful. And it shows just a little bit of what he remembered. He isn't much of a pub crawler, but he will follow you if you wish. And if you just want to go to a club to dance, he's down too.

Speaking of clubs, Tomas seems particularly interested in going to the Jazz Dock, as surprising as it may be. He looooves dancing with you, even surrounded by strangers.

To be honest, he just really enjoys the night scene. Not surprising, really. But he loves how the city lights offer a subtle glow against your figure, he thinks it compliments you as a whole.

Tomas will always treat you to dinner, too. He'll take you to some of the more popular, tourist spots if you so wish, but he prefers the smaller local cafés and diners. His favorite has to be the Bella Vida café, while not small or local by any means, he loves the river view and just the coziness of the café.

Another bonus, if you go down there during St Wenceslas Day (Today, actually, September 28th, as I'm writing), Tomas won't mind participating. More of, he'll observe, since he likes to be in-tune with his Czech history, especially since this day is about Czechian history.

© freyito, 2024 | masterlist | queue | kofi DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

[raccoonspooky]

Don't Buy The Entire Pig For Just One Sausage

Bo Sinclair X Fem Reader, NSFW 10k words. Rated E. Y/N Device is not used in this fic. Second Person, Bo POV. Full list of tags on ao3, highlights include: Unsafe sex, stranger sex, Bo is having a great time until he is not. This fic is not kind to Bo. Bimbo! Reader Nothing is safe or sane, consensual yes but hmm..

*Alternative ending included!

You’re overly confident and the dominance you think you deserve is pulled directly out of a delusion. Bo’s sure that it wouldn’t take much to teach you your manners. Someone failed you somewhere down the line. You were either given too much freedom or not enough, and now you’re running about wearing hot pink in biker bars; lifting wallets like some kind of whorish raccoon.

Full fic under the cut, or on ao3!

Last month, the grimy old dive bar Bo frequented for twenty damned years decided to kick the bucket. The place was run by some old git who either was the son or the grandson of the original owner and Bo imagined the fucker just curled up and died in whatever shithole he lived in. Ain't like he had family left to close the place proper, it locked up one night and it’ll stay locked up till someone decides to pry open the casket.

No one ‘round these parts had any concept of legacy to cling to, most folk were just sitting around with their thumbs in their asses, sitting in their graves and watching the world die around them. Figures that this shithole of a bar would eventually run dry. Bitter as he was, Bo knew it was a long time coming. Place was standing longer than most places lasted round these parts, it’d seen the birth and death of multiple nearby towns, it’d seen that big ol fire that burnt down the mill in Ambrose.

It wasn’t all that hard to find another place that suited him, it was closer to Baton Rouge than he would’ve liked but sometimes a man’s got an inherent need to get some pretty thing drunk. Back home, it’d been slim pickings recently; no tourists, no one on the road. Bo was stalking further and further away from home and every inch he stepped away from his front door added a new crick in his neck. One day, he’s gonna put Mama’s dream on the maps and he needs more materials to make it a reality. He’s got work to do and this fuckshit corner of the world is trying his fucking patience.

Sitting in his truck in the parking lot, white-knuckled on the wheel and glowering at nothing in particular —as if his bitterness had hypnotized him into staring blankly into space like a goat— a dancing gut punch of pink floats past his vision and Bo snaps into focus. The single-braincelled goat becomes a coyote in an instant and his fingers uncurl from their death grip on the wheel and finally steps out of his truck. He gives himself a once over in his driver-side window’s mirror before taking his hat off to smooth down his hair. When he first got into his truck, he wasn’t sure where he was going and now he regrets not finding an outfit better suited to picking up chicks.

He sucks his teeth audibly before spitting on the ground after clearing his throat. His skin itches in the way it does whenever he’s got the scent of something good in the air. No one would believe him, but Bo’s always thought that he had some sorta sixth sense on top of all the looks and charm. These blessings keep his dick wet and fill Ambrose with all kindsa new wax neighbors. Mama always said he stole his brother’s face, but Vincent wouldn’t know what to do with it. Dumbshit ‘ain't the same kinda predator he is.

As he heads inside, he sorta elbow pushes the door open while pulling his pants up a little as he looks around for the pink thing that had his arm hair standing on end. He doesn’t see you right away, but he’s already got a picture of you in mind. So far all he knew was that the blur of a person he saw was that it was vaguely feminine, walking stupidly, and likely some kinda whore. The rock solid assumptions are backed by years of work in this field, therefore he’s sure that this night is gonna end up in the exact same way it always does.

The case he’s building on you quickly begins to bloat. First of all, any unaccompanied bitch in a place like this must be some mix of stupid and a slut. The second biggest wedge in the mental piechart that he’s currently working on building is branded with four big bold letters spelling SLUT. You come in here, some dirty fuckin sticky floored joint that smells like sour beer and piss dressed in pink? You lookin’ to suck some hillbilly cock?

Of the few times Bo’s visited this place it’s been full of dusty old bikers and their floppy-tittied old ladies with sour cunts that smell and look like leather. Sometimes he’s seen some real fuckin backwater bushes folk, but girls sure don't frequent this place, sure there's lot lizards and other night stalkers like them but those don’t count as women. They’re more like walking fuckpockets full of rotting meat that’s more or less shaped like a woman.

Mindlessly, Bo finds himself with a cold beer in his hand and a tinge of agitation beginning to blossom behind his left eye. The routine that he’s kept to all these years right now feels like a collar buttoned too high up, one of those stiff starched church shirts where his mama would tie his tie damned near to choking him. He wants to rip it off and run at you like a bull, fuck the rules. It ‘ain't fair to keep someone like him contained by all this bullshit. This is a dog-eat-dog world and he ain’t the bad guy for being the first one to bite most often. Whoever you are? You’re prey and you know it walking in here in what he assumes is a pink dress. Maybe you have a death wish? Maybe you’re one of those dumb sluts who’s coasted through life with batting her eyelashes and shoving your tits at your problems. Over the years, Bo’s mastered breaking apart girls exactly like you, and from the way his throat tastes and the twitch in his eyebrow, he’s sure that you’re exactly what he assumes you are.

Bo saddles himself at the furthest end of the bar where he can get the best viewpoint of the whole place, there’s a pool table to one side and a forever out-of-order cigarette machine that’s got a nest of roaches inside. First time he came in here, he jiggled the machine just to see if anything would come out and a big fat roach fell out of it dead right atop his boot. Everyone else here looks blurred, he’s got tunnel vision and everything he can see, smell, and hear is pushed to the background in favor of setting all his focus on you.

His ears pick up on you before anything else, which is weird ‘cause he sure as fuck took a look at the group behind him and he didn’t see no pink thing in the mess of bald-headed fucks. You jingle as you walk, the sound of metal on metal and clothes shifting together and in another moment. You all but skip past him trailing some skinhead looking motherfucker behind you. Bo didn’t get a look at your face but he got an eyeful of everything else and god damn is there a lot to see. Your boots clip clop on the floor and they cling tight to your calves despite the pointed cowboy toe of ‘em. They’re shiny looking, like the vinyl seating of an old car. Bo’s mind registers legs, naked skin, the general shape of your body, and just as he’s on the cusp of a full thought, the most annoying voice he’s ever heard spouts from your lips and you chirp, “Follow the leader!” with a singsong voice at the asshole behind you.

So far, Bo was right in his assumption about you wearing a dress. Well… it’s some kinda skirt and a little shirt but that’s the same thing. Your lower back’s bare and he can see the hint of a tramp stamp peeking out of your waistband, it’s frilly up top like old lady bloomers or something but it’s got that sorta floaty look like in old movies. It might look old if it wasn't barely covering your ass. Bo’s not taken a single sip out of his beer and all he can do is stare at the back of your hair, dry swallowing and feeling his blood turn acidic in his veins.

Who the fuck are you? You’re like something that crawled right out of a trashy porno and into this shack as if you were summoned by the stench of ball sweat and violence. You sit atop a stool near the bar, sitting on your knees so you can sit higher and lean over toward the grizzled woman working the taps. You squeal something high-pitched and Bo feels his brain rattle against his skull. That fuckin’ noise reminds him of those fish bitches who sing dumbasses to their death, luring them with their fish titties while wailing them to their graves. The tone of your voice is gratingly annoying but he’s already imagining what other kindsa noises you could make. There's a perfect moment between three points of hurt, scared, and needy that Bo’s got several tape recordings of. He’s already thinking of what to label your tape with.

— “Pleaaase? I have to pee so bad and I just got over a bladder infection.” You press your hands together in a mockery of prayer after slamming your giant purse onto the counter with a thud. “You gotta know how it is! Cranberry juice for days and it’s not all that good of a drink when there’s no liquor in it!”

The woman at the bar huffs, surprisingly amused, and Bo glares. He’s tried charming the fuck out of that old gator but he’s never got so much of a twitch of a smile out of her. Old ladies fucking love him and that old bitch was completely immune to everything he was laying on. You continue to beg for a bathroom and it comes to Bo’s attention that sitting like you are, leaning over like that… there’s no way that you’re not just showing your panties to everyone who cares to look. There ain't anyone behind you and he gets up to casually walk your way to take a gander. No one’s looking at him, so he doesn't care to make a show of why he decided to get up and move to a booth directly behind you.

Bo’s convinced that anything he assumes is correct and raking his eyes up your exposed thighs and up to the slope of your ass. Your skirt giving him a good eyeful of ass is all the proof he needs to convince himself that he’s the smartest man in the universe. His assumption that he could take a peek at your panties is correct, sure he had to squint and pretend to pick something up off of the ground but he’s able to see just a hint of white fabric.

Fuck, white panties. Something about ‘em makes his dick jump to life in his pants. You think you’re some kinda sweetheart huh? With the frills in your skirt and your Barbie pink boots, d’ya think you’re some kinda doll? Plastic cunt hidden away by painted on panties? He remembers using scissors to cut the hand off of one of his mama’s childhood dolls; it didn’t have the same thick weight of slicing through meat that Bo’s come to enjoy in the years since then. You’ve probably got dainty lil hands, soft and with manicured nails. Bo’s fist clenches around nothing and he realizes that he left his untouched beer at the corner of the bar. With a huff, he gets up to retrieve his drink and you shout across the L-shaped counter,

“Ha! Pretty boy like you shouldn't be leaving his drink uncovered, c’mon that’s like rule one of being hot.”

In response, Bo coughs. And then he coughs again. He pounds on his chest with his fist and you giggle at him. He’s not looked at your face yet and glaring at you down feels like a nightmare he once had of his mother dragging him through some department store while glitter-faced makeup ladies from the counters laughed and pointed at him for being a grown man holding hands with his mama. What the fuck did you just say? Was that a threat? You think he’s…. pretty?

Instinctively, Bo latches onto the closest semblance of composure he can find,

“Speakin’ from experience sweetheart?” He sneers while finding his seat in the booth again.

You blow him a kiss and the gator behind the counter hands you a key and points. The big guy behind you stumbles and you hop off your stool with a sickly sweet smile that’s almost convincingly real. To anyone less versed in fake smiles, it might’ve gone undetected. Behind you, the guy looks woozy. The guy behind you shuffles as he walks, you stand him in front of the door and he steps away as if uncomfortable and you pull on his belt loop to force him closer. Bo can’t hear your command exactly, but it seems as if you were using the guy to guard the door as you took a piss. Fucking weird.

When the door opens again, you basically slam it into the neanderthal guarding you and he barely reacts. He turns around like a lurching zombie and your face screws up in mock concern.

“Are you feeling okay, big guy? I thought you were gonna show me your Harley!” You leave him for a moment to return the bathroom key and the dude slowly collapses into the nearest seat. You make a show of putting your hands on your hips and huffing, you nudge his boot with your own and sigh when he groans you roll your eyes, big lashes making the expression cartoonish. “Nighty night then lightweight!” You say cheerfully before basically skipping away from him with a big grin on your face. You hold your big bag low at your side and Bo notices for the first time that it’s bulging and looking as if it’s barely able to zip closed.

He can’t take his eyes off of you. Fuck you’re the most annoying thing he’s ever fucking seen. You seem to feel his gaze on you and Bo only challenges your “I caught you” expression with a raised eyebrow. You’re a fuckin loud ass flamingo with tits, of course he’s looking. Why would you dress like that if you didn’t want people to stare? He tilts his bottle at you, (still barely sipped) in invitation and you prance your ass over to him like a pony.

“Are you gonna buy me a drink? Cause otherwise I’m going home.” Your tone is completely bitchy, and you reach into your dumb little shirt and presumably your bra to dig out a tube of lipgloss. Your lips are already glimmery and Bo takes a slow drink from his bottle while imagining ‘em wrapped around something long and hard. Not everyone has his higher than average people reading skills, but any fuckin’ moron could look at you and determine that you’re good at sucking cock.

“I heard that guys who prefer bottles over cans have daddy issues.” You blow a small bubble with the gum he hadn’t noticed you were chewing and your sentence ends with a snapping noise as you pop it with your teeth. Your lipgloss disappears back into your tits and a lightning strike of rage splinters up his spine. He could slam your face into this fuckin’ table so quickly that you wouldn’t be able to so much as cry about it before you’re choking on your teeth! In a place like this, no cameras, cash only you’d be one more face in a god damned Walmart’s missing people plastic box by the return center you fucking bitch.

Ignoring his facial expression and the general violence radiating out from his person, you sit next to him which cages him into the booth without any escape.

“Where do you get off sayin’ this shit huh?” Bo spits, low and dangerous. You’re so fucking dumb. Usually, Bo’s got a little more tact when it comes to finding someone for one of Vincent’s new projects. He knows how to sweet talk, Bo can put on the fuckin’ ritz for every dumbass type of bitch in the world but you’re tearing apart every bullshit line he could pull on you as if you knew that he was barely keeping it together in the first place. You don’t know fucking shit about him, you’ve got it all twisted around you bitch. He’s reading you, you’re the prey here. Not the other way around.

“Hmm.” You look upward, thinking. “Where do I get off? Ummm…. my bed usually. Where do you? Are you an alley pervert?” You speak before he can. “Oh! No, no ways. You’re like one of those guys who takes sneaky upskirt pics.”

Fucking what? Bo feels like he stumbled into another fucking dimension. “The fuck is wrong with you? Jesus.”

Your laugh is grating, a little nasally. “You seem like a photo guy is all. Everyone has their things. You asked where I got off, so I told you, duh.” You roll your eyes and Bo imagines how good your pretty makeup would look running down your face. You wouldn’t be all that sassy while bleeding out in his basement. The murderous thought is sliced clean through by your suddenly meowing phone, you unzip a pocket of your bag and dig around for a good minute before you find your phone and flip it open to answer the call.

“Nuh-uh!” You partway scream through a laugh as Bo just… stares at you, mouth breathing. He spent every last Thursday of every month buying two lotto tickets and treating himself to a burger and maybe some pussy, and he hadn’t won shit from the lottery in the twenty years he’d kept to the damned ritual, he hadn’t scratched off the tickets yet but with your stupid ass he feels as if he���s got a million dollars folded up in his wallet.

—” Oh you bitch! You did not,” You snort, actually fucking snort. “Did it hurt? What about lube?”

Bo clears his throat and you hold up a finger, “Ugh alright, fineee.” You pout into your phone, “Talk later babes, I forgot there's a guy next to me.” You pause for a moment and then turn to Bo to look at him with an analyzing expression.

“Hmm, he’s like a solid seven. Hot in a DILF way.”

Bo’s breath jumps up a few notches and he feels a growl building in his throat. Something is fucking wrong with you and you’re a gift from fucking god at the same time. He imagines your limp body, legs bruised, blood seeping from beneath you. You’d beg him to kill you in the same way you’re gonna beg for his cock. Bo blows a slow breath through his nose and shifts in his seat, resisting the urge to adjust his dick that’s steadily swelling with blood the more you run your stupid slut mouth.

In a flash of movement, your phone is put away and you unzip your purse just enough to get your hand inside to pull out a worn brown leather wallet. It’s a bizarre contrast compared to the rest of you, it looks cheap but not cheap like you. You smell like dollar store perfume and your jewelry sure as fuck ain't valuable. Getting by as he does, he’s gotten good at figuring out if jewelry and shit is worth any money. You use the tip of your pink rhinestone-adorned talon to dig through the bills in the wallet and your eyes go wide as if surprised to see what was in there. Two twenties are removed and you curl them lengthwise as if offering money to a stripper.

You wiggle the bills toward him and Bo scoots further away from you, scowling. The only thing he wants to do is wrap his fingers around your neck and squeeze, he doesn’t want to waste any words on you because right now they’re in short supply. He’s unraveling at the seams and beneath his exterior he’s an animal thing desperately in need of a good fuck or a good kill.

“C’mon pup, get me a drink? Please? You can keep the change! My treat!” You flutter your eyelashes. Throwing money away like it’s fuckin nothing to a stranger? You don’t seem like a rich girl, but the thought pisses Bo off just the same.

“That ain't your wallet and I ain't a whore.” Bo decides on a safe response to spit out. He’s yet to fully comprehend that you just called him “pup.” as if some sort of mental barrier simply wouldn’t allow him to hear it otherwise he’d suffer a series of incoming strokes.

“Debatable.” You hop out of the booth and you point to the bar while blowing another bubble with your gum. “Something with a cherry in it?”

“Aint no fuckin cherries here girl.”

“Wine..?”

You look so miffed that Bo chuckles, he gets out of the booth and plucks the money from your fingers before pocketing it. It takes a tremendous amount of effort but he manages to even out his breathing. He’ll get what he wants, he’s never learned to be patient but if things go right he shouldn’t have to wait long.

“I got wine at my place.” He offers, putting on his best attempt at charm. If he could just get you back home things would work out perfect and he wouldn’t lose his fucking mind and either fuck you right here or now or break every bone in your body with a fucking audience barely ten feet away.

“Sure!” You grin, “We both know we’re gonna fuck in your car anyways. Might as well pretend it's headed for wining and dining.”

“Confident ‘aintchya?” Since the moment he set eyes on you Bo’s imagined about thirty detailed plans for what he wants to do to you and most of ‘em don't end up all that good for your well-being. He’s never met a girl quite so fuckin glib about shit like this, but he’s beginning to think that you’re missing a handful of marbles and your skull is full of cotton candy and cum instead.

You meet his gaze with big, moony eyes and there's a distinctive moment where your gaze turns sharp. The expression barely surfaced but Bo easily saw the face he’d be wearing if it weren’t for all this stupid pretense. Your big ass bag is hauled up and you hold it in front of yourself, “Carry my purse and maybe I’ll swallow.”

What the fuck would keep him from taking your purse and leaving with it? Your stare oozes nothing but confidence and your smile is an obvious challenge. His cock twitches, more blood surges through him and Bo swallows dryly. He used to volunteer to carry his mama’s purse when he was a kid, mostly cause he wanted to root around in it for candy but secondly, because he liked feeling important. Doing things for her was the only way she’d give him any ounce of positive attention and your tone cuts through him in a way you’d sure as fuck never live long enough to understand. Bo takes the stupid fucking purse and you preen, “That’s a good boy.”

You’re fucking lucky that you mentioned swallowing because otherwise, wrapping his hand around your throat as your mouth’s stuffed with cock and watching your face turn purple and your eyes bulge red sounds pretty goddamned good right now.

Bo has to push past you somewhat as you begin to walk ahead of him, as soon as you’re both in the dirt lot outside, it's clear which car is yours. An eyesore of a blotchily painted rattletrap is parked some ways away, one of its doors is a completely different color and the entire car is tilted as if your tire pressure’s low. There’s no doubt in his mind that if he were to turn on the engine, the entire dash would light up with every light there is.

He leads you to his truck and you giggle, “Man I thought I was driving a real shitbox. Look at this dinosaur!”

Bo’s jaw gives an audible cracking noise and he wrenches the door open to forcibly shove you inside. He doesn’t give a shit if it hurts if your surprised yelp is anything to go by. Your bag is tossed in next and he wastes no time in crawling over the bench seating and forcing your legs up to make room for himself. You’re like a dead bug on its back and he hates that you were right about him being a “photo guy” because he’s sure that he wants to remember you but he hates the idea of proving you right. This part of the show is easy, he feels more in control of the situation now that he’s found out how to get back on track, he’s barely aware of his thoughts as his body remembers who and what he is.

His hold on your thigh relents in favor of working on his belt and you contort your body, sitting with your knees over the back of the seat and your side twists as you unzip your purse. You tut an annoyed tone and then lay back to set your purse on your stomach, you tuck your chin to look into it and the angle causes an avalanche of shit to tumble out onto the floor.

“The fuck are you doing?” Bo grunts out, the conscious flow of thoughts to his brain cut off just about when he saw that blur of pink disappearing into the bar. It’s been weeks without any pussy, nothing’s stopping him from taking it by force, but he wants to savor the motions he has in plan for you. It’s a long ride home and it’d be easier and a hell of a lot less messy if you’d go compliantly. Maybe he’ll keep you around, fuck you for a few days till your cunt’s worn out. That’s the best a girl like you can hope for and that’s the highest offer he’s willing to place on the table.

“Looking for a condom, I dunno where you’ve been!”

Mentioning a condom is an instant boner killer and Bo shakes his head no while watching your purse spill more and more shit out. He sees makeup and a couple of wallets. Two belts, what looks like an entire outfit change, and countless receipt papers. “Girl you’re fucking killing me.”

You scoot a bit, bending and squashing yourself until you can sit up after seemingly giving up on your search. Fluidly, you lean closer into him and up close your perfume is almost cloyingly sweet. It tickles his senses, not enough that he wants to sneeze but enough that he wants more of a sample to determine whether or not he likes it. For someone who looks so sugar-sweet, who wants to smell like a lollipop you’ve sure got a fuckton of presumably stolen wallets. You’re a sticky-fingered little freak and a fucking cunt to match. Easy girls are never good ones, someone like you couldn't have possibly been raised right.

Slowly, your head tilts and you assess his face curiously. Bo only allows it because lately he’s been pushed past desperate, he’s fucking starved and he doesn’t want to know what the fuck comes after he’s skin and bones. He needs this to work out right, he needs a fucking win. It’s been forever since he’s stolen something he wants to play with and without that distraction, his mother finds her way in to bitch and moan at him from beyond the grave.

Your lips slant over his before Bo realizes what you’re doing and his stomach twists in disgust. Kissing is for pussies and your lipgloss is tacky against his mouth. Your tongue tastes like bright citrus, like an orange creamsicle and he feels you manipulate your gum to sit between your teeth and gums. The thought is gross and Bo grimaces against your kiss, you manage to straddle his lap without breaking the kiss, and on instinct his hand reaches to cup your ass, squeezing hard while using his other hand to hold your hip

The candy-mouthed kiss feels all kinds of wrong but pulling away from you is far from his thoughts while you grind your hips down, rubbing yourself against his undone jeans. Your breath hitches when he slides his hand up to one of your tits and he pinches your nipple through your shirt, hoping to hear you complain about it. He’s made aware immediately that your tits are pierced and he’s unable to keep himself from groaning into your mouth. Your pussy could feel like a sandpapered ant hill and he wouldn’t give a single shit about it if you’d let him slot his dick between the perfect tits in his hands. Unfortunately for him, you pull away from the kiss which leaves him fat-lipped and dumb. “It’s a total bummer that we can’t fuck.” You sigh, speaking plainly, sounding almost bored.

“Why not?” He almost spits, his tone takes on defensive but it comes out sounding bitchy. If he was anywhere but here, he wouldn’t have to play this stupid fucking game. He could just take.

“Hello? Weren’t you listening? We need a condom and I can't find one.” You cross your arms, looking every bit the bratty doll that you are. Remembering that doll hand that he severed that got him locked in a fucking cabinet for a day makes his cock throb. His daddy woulda called him a sissy for playing with dolls, but the old man might’ve keeled over and died he caught wind that his son was about to fuck one.

“I haven't slept with anyone since my wife died.” Bo lies, settling on a random story for who knows why. It’s the first thing he landed on and a familiar face he often wears to garner some pity pussy.

“And you’re a forty dollar whore. Maybe your wife was a slut like you are huh?” Your garble out with genuine venom. It’s completely random and Bo blinks at you, surprised by what the fuck you just said.

Your bottom lip quivers and you suddenly slump over him to wail into his neck, he doesn’t know what the hell is happening but he doesn’t fucking care. Not when he can feel the heat of your cunt just a few thin layers away from where he wants you. Your shoulders shake and Bo wonders if he could reach under his seat and find something to get this over with before you’d even know what was happening. He had to have something… a knife, a syringe, a piece of broken glass. Just as quickly as your sniffling came, you sat up with a bright smile though your eyes look blown wide and manic. “Sorry.” You glance to the side, “I hate hearing about other girls. I just went through a breakup and everything still hurts y'know?”

God damn it. For some reason your insanity has his cock barking like a damned dog to get inside of you. If he just slid it in, maybe you wouldn’t notice? Your claws come to curl around his bicep and girl you’ve got a fucking grip on you. You wriggle your hips as if in frustration and Bo finally forces you to sit up so he’s able to reach between your bodies to free his dick. He strokes himself just once and closes his eyes, praying to god that he can hold onto his patience. You’re too good to waste on dumping you in the bayou. You’re a crazy fucking bitch but your mama blessed you with a face worth preserving and a body torn out of his favorite porn searches. Curled over him like this, tucking yourself in to be as small as possible makes it difficult to get at your tits, unfucking fair.

“—I thought he loved me.” You whimper though you confusingly begin to grind on his dick again. “I would’ve been so good, if only he gave me a chance. I would’ve been a wayyy better girlfriend than his slut wife and I wasn’t wrong for putting water in her gas tank. If you’re in love you’ll do anything right? So what about chemical burns and a missing poodle!”

Through your ramble, you readjust yourself and Bo takes the opportunity to pull your panties to the side. He wants to take a look at your pussy but right now it seems like a better idea to treat you like a wild animal, like one wrong move would have his head ripped off. You’re officially one of them one flew over the cuckoo’s nest sorta bitches but Bo can’t give a single fuck about it right now. Your body figures out how to slot his dick between your lips and you sigh, eyes closing, pussy soaking his length as you move. Seeking pleasure even while you continue to run your stupid mouth. On Bo’s end, he barely hears you and he’s pretty sure he mumbled for you to shut the fuck up, though he might’ve choked the sentence to death while fighting back the moan that wanted to croak out of him.

The truck’s cab ‘aint all that big and you lean back, blindly reaching behind yourself to press your palms against the dashboard, your dumb frilly skirt rides up on your thighs and you whimper when you manage to figure out how to move to rub his cockhead against your clit. “Fuck that’s so good,” Your voice comes out small and your face is adorably screwed into a pout.

“Look at me and shut up.”

Stubbornly you shake your head no and your eyes scrunch as if forcing them to stay closed. “No thanks, you��re too pretty.”

Bo lifts you to stand on your knees and takes hold of his shaft to position it between your lips, his cockhead just teasing your entrance. He can’t see your pussy on account of your skirt, Bo supposes he could easily look but little freak shits have been making Barbie get naked for decades and he likes the idea that he’s the first smart fucker who figured out how to use the bitch’s plastic pussy. If he looked, maybe all he’d see is the flat mound that other dolls have.

“What the fuck does that mean?” He finally remembers to speak after letting your previous words marinate. “Your mama drop you on the head or what?”

You open your eyes to glare, “I mean that you’re hot and if you ask nicely I’m gonna do something stupid and let you fuck me like I want you to.”

He can’t help the shudder that racks through him in response, girls ain't supposed to be forward and Barbie sure as hell ‘ain't but call him handsome all you want, he’ll allow it. He leans up to graze his teeth over your collarbone before easing you to raise your arms and get rid of your shirt and the cupless flimsy thing that’s apparently a bra. Your tits spring free and Bo wastes no time in pulling you toward his mouth. His tongue curiously flicks the hardening bud and he’s not shy to nuzzle into the soft flesh against his face. All points of contact of his body against yours are met with soft tits and skin, the slick glide of wet pussy, and hard, cold metal against his tongue.

Vaguely, he’s aware that every man on this planet knows the golden rule about sticking your dick in crazy but no one ever fuckin’ told him that crazy had the most fuckable, ruinable body all done up with perfect tits to match. Even now he’s barely able to resist baser urges, if he can't hurt you in the way he wants, he needs to at least gore out your pretty cunt with his near painfully hard dick.

It’d take a while but he wants to cover you head to fucking toe in cum, his stomach feels tight as if he’s going to cramp up if he doesn't bury himself inside of you right fucking now, his throat works the taste of steel down into his gut and no one would be able to resist you wet and writhing on his dick, telling him he’s attractive and downright begging for him to fuck you. Not even you could fault him for holding your hips and forcing you down to take his cock. He can't find it in him to savor your surprised gasp and the way your body yields, biology taking over delusion. His inner monologue clears away any conscious thought besides a desperate chant of hot-wet-tight.

Everything you are can be summed up in a simple “What the fuck.” Three hard thrusts in and he stammers, teeth digging into his bottom lip as he fights back the pressing urge to blow his load. He needed this more than he knew and your walls squeeze and suck at him as if trying to keep him deep inside of you, reluctant to let go. His fingers dig into your hair and Bo pulls you down to kiss him again, he wants to fuck your mouth with his tongue because he doesn’t have enough cocks to shove one down your throat. Your teeth clack against his and your hand slips on the dash, blindly you reach for the wheel and whatever you did causes the damned thing to click in a way that would normally have him bursting a gasket. All he does is mask a moan with a savage bite to your bottom lip instead.

“W-wait,” You pull away from him panting, “I didn’t give you permission—”

“Nuh-uh. Your pussy was fuckin’ begging for it.” He says smugly, unable to keep the pride out of his voice.

Your brattiness finds its way back from wherever Bo managed to fuck it from you and you cross your arms. “Only my boyfriends get to fuck me raw.” You poke him in the chest, enunciating your words with poke after poke. “You. Are. Not. My. Boyfriend.”

He takes your hand, unable to take you seriously. You’d look so much better with some fucking respect spanked into you, “Who’s your boyfriend? That fucker you left in the bar after you robbed him?” His thrusts slow and you sit up to hold onto his shoulders for leverage as you lift your hips until actually pulling off of him before sinking down inch by inch as if to take in every detail of the undoubtedly perfect fit.

You snort, “I have lots of boyfriends. Just most of ‘em don't know they're mine…”

Bo’s palm finds your lower back, his fingers slip into the waistband of your skirt and he traces the raised texture of your tattoo with his thumb. He’s still not seen it yet, but he wonders if you were dumb enough to get some asshole’s name branded above your ass. Over the years, Bo’s known plenty of stupid and slutty, or slutty and stupid… he’s not yet met a mix of slutty, stupid, and batshit until you. If he knew that girls like you had pussies that felt like they were manufactured for the sole purpose of draining his soul out of his balls, maybe he would’a snagged a girl like you years ago.

“Some of them think they’re taken. They’ll figure it out soon enough,” You continue, snapping your gum again and Bo takes your face in his hand to squish your cheeks and he uses two fingers to physically remove your gum from your mouth. Your only reaction is a pout and he sticks your gum onto your discarded shirt. He would’ve assumed you might’ve bitched about that but you’re already caught up in an incoming rant.

“Nobody’s gonna break my heart never ever again, I’m not gonna let them.”

Ugh, Bo closes his eyes and does his best to ignore your words because he couldn’t give less than a shit about them. Your already piss-poor job at riding him slows even further and you reach next to you for a moment before one of your hands comes to rest on the side of his neck where your nails just barely dip into his hair, your breath is hot against his ear and the unrelenting heat wrapped around him squeezes hard as if for his attention. Your teeth graze against the shell of his ear and the smallest murmur of a moan escapes his involuntarily parted lips.

“Do you wanna be my boyfriend, pretty boy?” You whisper, and your sharp nails curl around to the back of his neck, “I’ll be good to you, let you fuck me whenever you want. You can cum inside right now if you say yes…”

With a mind of its own his cock twitches inside of you, agreeing to any and all unspoken terms. All you fucking do is run your mouth and half of what comes out of it ‘aint fit for a lady and the other half is batshit insanity. You don’t get to claim him you dumb whore, but he can play along for now. If he can bite back the twisting wave of hate, all he has to do is behave for thirty-some miles back to the house. Once you’re in Ambrose, you’ll play by his rules and learn your fucking place. You’re overly confident and the dominance you think you deserve is pulled directly out of a delusion. Bo’s sure that it wouldn’t take much to teach you your manners. Someone failed you somewhere down the line, you were either given too much freedom or not enough, and now you’re running about wearing hot pink in biker bars and lifting wallets like some kind of whorish raccoon.

He can domesticate you. He’s always been decent at fixing shit, and he wants to put you back together so it’ll be all the more satisfying when he breaks you apart. Of course, he nods to your question, he’d be a right fuckin fool to say otherwise.

“Ah-ah,” You tut, “Out loud. Tell me.” The hand not on him shifts next to your side.

Lying is one of the things Bo does best. It’s effortless to look at you and spread a slow smile over his lips like sizzling butter sliding toward the edge of a pan, it’s greasy but it melts easily. He schmoozes hard enough to tilt his head to press his lips against your inner wrist. “I ain’t makin no promises tonight darlin’, let's get to know each other huh? Tell ya what, if you come back to my place tonight, I’ll take you out tomorrow.” His tone drips and oozes.

“A date?” You gasp, grinning. “Oh! That’s great! And here I was, ready to ride you at gunpoint till you said you’d be my boyfriend! This works out so much better, I think you’re gonna be my favorite.”

Bo jolts with the first mention of the word gun and you bring your right hand up, finger on the trigger of a cutesy little derringer that you must’ve pulled out of your purse. You didn’t have a condom but you had a gun? He’d wonder what was wrong with you if it weren't for his kit of zip-ties, xylazine, and duct tape beneath the seat. Instinct tells him to fight, to wrench your arm back until it cracks. You point the thing at him, squinting an eye closed and he feels as if some sense of self preservation should activate. “Bang bang!” You laugh, finger still on the damned trigger and Bo’s stomach flips, his cock surges and he growls, frustrated with the fact that you’re just sitting on him as his dick all but begs for movement. He should give you a taste of your own medicine, show you his own kit of weapons if you’re so excited to play show and tell…

The gun in your hand is so ridiculously small, it looks like a toy and you’ve seemingly stuck a few stickers to it here and there. Hello Kitty adorns the tiny barrel and a yellow dog thing decorates the handle. You’re so… stupid, god it’s like you can’t get any dumber, any more ridiculous, and then here you are, sitting on his dick and demanding that he hand himself over to you on a silver platter. You’re fucking lucky that he’s desperate, if he wasn’t so starved for an ounce of pussy this might’ve ended the moment you stepped outside the bar. Your body would’ve been hauled limp into his truck bed. You had no idea who he was, but he knew everything about you. his nostrils flare and his pulse races every screaming ounce of his sanity tells him to get rid of you because it’d be a mercy to put you down. Y’aint right, you’re fucked in the head… you’re a violent, demanding little psycho bitch who throws pussy around like you don’t care where it ends up and—

Bo unleashes an almost animal noise as the frustration building inside of his gut erupts into sparking violence. Your wrist is cruelly twisted and your fingers spread out to drop your weapon, Bo picks you up to slam you down onto your back, he thrusts back inside of you and the instant gratification nearly has his eyes rolling back in his head. Sure, you’re meant to take cock but you sure as fuck aren't supposed to take it while thinking that you get to decide whether or not it's for your benefit or his. No. He decides whether or not you’ll get it and bitch you’ve been asking for it since your stupid ass got dressed and got in your ridiculous fucking car to drive down here.

“Mm… You’re strong huh?” Your giggle clips into a moan, your weapon falls to the floor and you don’t pay it a second glance. Of course, you’re vocal. Hell, likely no one’s ever told you to shut up before tonight. Bracing himself with one knee on the seat and one knee on the ground, he uses the back of the seat for leverage while the other finds your throat. Feels fucking good to squeeze down, it’s just a taste of what he wants to do to you but for now, it’s enough. You choke on a half-spoken syllable, and every time he drives back into your cunt it’s as if the longer you’re without air, the wetter your sloppy pussy gets.

“Y’like it when it hurts sweetheart?” He lets up from your throat and you suck down needy lungfuls of oxygen. You only grin dumbly, neither confirming or denying his question or maybe you just didn’t hear him. Your body is unfair, your tits bounce against the force of his thrusts and he wishes he had some way of recording this. You’re all smiles, eyes half-lidded as if loving this treatment. Your body seems to understand what it’s made for even if your mind’s skipping around the maypole twirling a gun by the trigger around your fingers while thinking you’re anything but a living fuckdoll. Absently, Bo wonders if your so-called boyfriends ever thought of lobotomizing you or if he’s the first genius to cook up the idea. He can’t imagine being able to stand being around you for more than a parking lot fuck. Good ol’ Doctor Sinclair’s still got a handful of tools in his dusty old office. Maybe that’ll be step one into your redesign.

Whoever you were going on about must be some sorta delusion of yours because there ain't no way in hell that any man could listen to you and submit to whatever stupid bullshit you demand of him. Your pussy’s too tight, too perfect to have been stretched over anyone else. Hell, anyone besides him wouldn’t be man enough to take on a piece of work like you. Bo’s always wanted a fucktoy who ain't got right or reason to think herself a person and with a body like yours, you might as well be the best bet for a walking, talking cocksleeve.

Thinking about you floating through his house all dreamy-eyed and soft smiles, constantly available and with nowhere to go, your dollar store perfume a permanent feature of the place seems so fucking right. Hell, he can get rid of you whenever he feels like but Bo thrives on having goals. He might not want that forever but it might be nice for a while. If he plays his cards right, you might not even need the good ol icepick to the eye socket.

“You like my cock better than your “boyfriends”?” Bo emphasizes his disbelief in the concept and your sleepy fuckdrunk eyes brighten into coherence. Your lips twist and you bite your lip, thinking and Bo immediately regrets asking.

“Third maybe? We’ll have to try out some other things before I’m sure.”

“Wrong answer sweetheart, try again.” He sneers, hating how he’s been biting back his orgasm since the first thrust inside of you.

“But—” Whatever you were going to say is cut off with an open palmed slap to your cheek. He didn’t hit hard, there wasn’t any wind back but your attitude changes in an instant. You blink up at him, wide-eyed and your mouth opens and closes soundlessly. Your expression just about melts and you shudder beneath him, breath kicking into little high-pitched gasps. That’s it, Bo can just about see the pretty little fuckdoll right beneath your skin. You just needed someone to put in the work.

Your inner walls constrict and Bo grunts, feeling as if your cunt already knows who it belongs to and it doesn’t need to be taught a thing about being a good girl for him. Your legs twitch outward with an almost funny tremor and after another savage thrust, your back arches upward and you hiccup out a jumble of broken sounds that coagulate into a throaty, low moan. The moment your orgasm began to build in intensity was the breaking point of Bo’s pulled-thin restraint, a lightning strike of heat spits through his cock and he buries it deep inside of you with a feral need to drive impossibly deeper into your body. He can't stop, he can’t keep going, his orgasm seems pissed at him for the fact that it’d been too long since the last cumdump and he pulls out of you, groaning only to immediately thrust back inside because the loss of your body is an almost jarring sensation.

“Christ” Is all he can say as his brain threatens to leak out of his nose.

You hum, looking up with starry eyes and you speak after a long moment of quiet. “Did you like it?”

Bo takes a deep breath, “What kind of stupid question is that?”

“Yay!” You clap your hands together excitedly, “I wasn’t sure what I stole from that douche I roofied, figured it looked like coke so I decided to take a test run on it when I went to the bathroom.”

After coming as hard as he did, Bo can barely comprehend what you’re saying. You’re everything he’s been raised to hate and he sits up to lazily stroke his flagging shaft, already wondering if he can force his way into another quickie.

“I’ve never been able to come without anyone touching my clit before, so I think a little bit of coke in my pussy definitely did the trick.”

Immediately, his eyes threaten to bulge out of his head, and a vein bulges on the side of his neck. “Wh—” His shock turns to anger and Bo shoves you, “What the fuck is wrong with you? Fuck!” The world around him threatens to cave in, crushing his skull with the weight of a lifetime of American morals and a Christian upbringing.

“I told you that I wanted a condom. You’re the one who decided to fuck me like a rabid dog! And I loved it, but you have no right to be pissed at me, pretty boy.”

Pretty boy feels like an insult and the truck cab that’s usually his happy place begins to feel like a coffin that’s steadily being covered in dirt. Genuine dread keeps Bo tight-lipped and quiet. Someone needs to do something about you but you’re vermin rather than prey. You’re a pest. Despite the cold shoulder, you roll your eyes and laugh right in his face. “Are you seriously mad? You’re so cute!” Your bottom lip juts out obnoxiously, “It’s a joke! I’ve tried that before, it’s only good for like thirty seconds.” You giggle and for some god-awful reason, a hateful breath of heat tickles his cheeks. He’s not embarrassed if that’s what you’re getting at.

You pull your shirt over your head without your bra and do your best to get the gum off of it, the wad of orange is tossed to the ground and your purse makes a weird beeping noise. Looking like Winne the damned Pooh, pantsless and likely dripping cum onto his seat, you pick up a bright blue egg-shaped thing from the floor and press two yellow buttons.

“Ugh!” You whine in a high-pitched wound of a noise, “My Tamagotchi died! I take a ten-minute fuck break and the little shit poops itself to death!” The little egg’s screen is shoved into his face and Bo grabs your wrist, glaring.

“God damn it girl, how much of a dicking do you need for you to shut the hell up?” You don’t seem to think you need to respond to his words and you take a moment to pull out a pad of paper from your ridiculous garbage bag purse you hum while scribbling a few things down. When you’re finished the sheet is torn out and you place it in his lap, after patting it a few times.

“The fuck is that?”

“Read it if you’re so curious!”

He swallows the number of things he wants to say in response and Bo picks up the paper, he reads as far as the list’s header before crumpling the paper up and throwing it behind himself. The only thing he needed to read was “Rules of being my Boyfriend.” and that was enough.

You’re more or less dressed soon enough, all your shit is hastily stuffed back into your bag. “Can I get a goodbye kiss?”

“You’re sayin’ goodbye? Thought you were coming back to my place?”

You answer with a laugh, “Oh, you’re adorable. I’m not that dumb pretty boy.”

Bo sneers, patience broken and he hastily reaches over you to push the lock down on your door. It clicks satisfyingly and the incoming sense of gratification has his tone dripping toward bitchy. “Nah, here’s the thing sweetheart. I thought we had a damned agreement.”

“Oh! We do! I wrote it up for you!” You respond cheerily as if not quite understanding the threat you’re under.

He’s not listening, Bo grabs you by the hair with the intent of either knocking you out via asphyxiation or slamming your forehead into the dashboard. The violence he’d been uselessly sitting on all night roars to life and—

Something velcro rips apart and cold metal is shoved beneath his ribs, moving faster than what should be possible. A button clicks and his vision warbles in and out before splintering like glass. Piece by piece it all begins to crash and cut him apart and he chokes on a gasp, tongue feeling too thick to let him open his mouth to suck a lungful of air down his throat.

His door is forced open and you hop out, once again reduced into a pink blur of a person, and a sparking pink rectangle spits lightning, still sharply crackling in your hand. Through insurmountable effort, he manages to force his body to slump forward and just as he regains the general concept of feeling his fingers and toes, a cloud of stinging, whipping heat seemingly rips through his eyes and mouth and he gags, coughing on the gaseous fire that seems to get worse the longer his mouth stays open.

“Oh, I really wish you hadn’t grabbed me like that. I hate when guys get handsy!” The sound of a zipper is the only thing he can discern, Bo tries to open his eyes only to be met with another dose of wet acid that begins to melt his flesh from his bones. Fuck it fucking hurts.

“Toodles babe!” You chirp, “Pleaaase read that paper you crumpled. It’s got my number on it! Rule number one to being my boyfriend, call me or else!” The last word of your sentence is heavily emphasized but Bo barely hears you, all he can do is curl up into a ball to rub his involuntarily leaking eyes into his seat, his freshly tased mind is only able to rely on instinct rather than conscious thought.

Gravel crunches beneath your boots and you walk away unhurriedly, the general pattern of your footsteps is off kilter as if you’re skipping. “Call me!” You yell from a distance repeating yourself for emphasis, “Don’t make me say or else again! No other girls, No fucking around! I’ll know!”

Your sing-song voice is a tornado siren and Bo can’t help but feel as if he just stuck his dick in the eye of a storm. Everything hurts. He can’t see, his mouth and nose are on fire and his bones feel as if he shook hands with god. You’ll be hearin’ from him alright, count your blessings there sweetheart.

ALT ENDING (If you told the truth over whether or not you actually bewitched him with pussy cocaine)

Course you're a druggie. Figures. You're everything he's been bred to hate and you used him. Violated him as if his body was yours to ruin. He feels dirty for the first time in his life.

“Rule number one of being my boyfriend means you have to kiss me.” You wave your hand in front of Bo’s face and all he sees is buzzing flies and rot. Every southern superstition he ever laughed at currently taunts him in his mama’s tone and inflection. She spent her life warning him about how easily the devil finds its way inside of you and he never thought it would feel so fucking good to let it in.

“Okie Doke,” You quip after hearing no response. “You’ll call me then. Rule number two.” You tap the paper on his thigh. Bo wonders where your sissy little pistol went and if he’d still get a usable corpse out of you if he plugged a bullet through your skull but he knows that a clean kill won't be enough for him.

He fucked up. He was stupid and strayed too far from home and look where the fuck he ended up. Already, he wants more of you, and every deluded thought he had about making you his still felt like the best idea he ever had. Fuck you for taking that from him and fuck you in general. Your stupid bag unzips and the distinctive sound of a knife flipping open pulls him from his trance.

Quickly, you hop out of his truck and before he can think to react, you shove a pink, automatic switchblade into his fucking tire. It sinks in again and again as if you’re somehow used to knifing tires.

The dread withers away into animal rage and Bo launches out of his vehicle, seeing blood red pulsing in his vision.

“There’s a three-strike rule! It’s on the paper!” You yell, running at a full speed away, your stupid platformed shoes thwacking the ground while Bo lumbers after you with his pants undone and every nerve ending in his body on fire. Usually, he likes a good chase. He likes to win, but you’ve already scored several points over his tally, and at first, it was cute but now it ain't acceptable anymore.

“Strike one, you didn’t wanna kiss me… so you don’t get a tire! It’s only fair!” You stop running once reaching your car and Bo cracks his neck, thanking god for your stupid little brain for thinking the chase is over. You might think this is a game, but it sure as fuck aint a game to him. Your purse is dumped in your passenger seat and before you can close your door Bo shoves his hand in the way, which hurts but he reacts only by flaring his nostrils. Using every ounce of strength Bo fights to wrench your door open but you let go, causing him to stumble backward.

The hammer to your dumb little pistol clicks backward and you smile, “I’m sorry! Ugh I hate fighting on first dates, it’s uncute.” You turn your key in the ignition and your engine sounds like a croaking frog, subconsciously he’s sure that your radiator’s fucked just from the sound of it but right now he cares about killing, not cars.

“ I promise I’m gonna be good to you.” Your voice is pleading, “Don’t worry! Now walk back to your truck like a good boy now,” Your fingers wiggle and you jut your chin toward his truck, “These things are hard to aim and it’s only gonna kill you if you’re up close. I’m running low on boyfriends so I’d really hate to have to shoot you. That’s usually a third date thing!”

The little gun only has two bullets in it and Bo rushes you with a growl, hoping to catch you off guard. There’s a low chance you’ll get him bad enough to kill him and—

Your pink knife finds its way home right above his knee and Bo crumples. You take his moment of shock to slam your door. His leg refuses to respond to the urgency of the situation, he can move it but it comes with blinding pain that intensifies as you peel out of the parking lot. The way he fell seemed to have dug the blade in deeper and he can only yell in outraged agony as your trashy pink car gets smaller and smaller in the distance.

Thanks for reading all this! I opened a year old single paged draft and just spat out 10k words lmao. I love the idea of this bitch in his home, Tamagotchi beeping like the fkn telltale heart like just fkn HAUNTING him and he doesn't know where the beeping is from. I also love the idea of her smelling some other cheapo perfume on him and having a fkn meltdown because she'd NEVER wear such a trashy perfume!! Like she's fine with the MURDERING but how dare he even look at another vaguely feminine person, he's a cheating!!! HORRIBLE PERSON!! Jail! Jail for boyfriend #5 for one thousand years!

[goosewriting]

Hello, I'd like to say that I already requested some things from you but I hope you don't mind that I'm sending this in because I love your writing and I thought that you could do this request perfectly. I also noticed your requests are closing tomorrow so yeah 😭 tsym

Rise Boys x tomboy reader (gn tho obviously). It's prom night or a school dance or something at April's school. The turtles are kinda dissapointed because the reader got a date to the dance and they had a big crush on them. It's all they can think about all night until the reader shows up at the lair looking a little dejected but GOOD because they're wearing a freshly pressed black suit and tie. The turtle asks what's wrong they why they're not at the dance. They tell that they were going to go to the dance but the reader got stood up by her date and just didn't feel like going after that. After seeing how badly they had wanted to go, the turtle suggests instead of the dance, they go out for a night in the hidden city and just goof off and have fun. So that's what they do, maybe they go skating or for smoothies just the two of them having a good time. At the end of the night they sit on a rooftop watching the sun come up and the reader says "We should do this more often" basically confirming the night was a date and they'd like to do it again.🥲👏🏾 sorry this is so long 💗💗

Prom night, plan B (rottmnt x reader)

summary: reader got stood up for prom and goes to the lair instead, looking extremely fly.

relationship: Rise Leo, Raph, Donnie, Mikey x GN reader (crushing phase)

warnings: fluff!, reader’s date being a jerk, slight vandalism in Mikey’s i guess lol

word count: 2.4k

A/N: back when i got this request i squealed in glee because i love me a good ol’ reader in a suit! this one’s in my other (bulletpoints only) headcanon style again, hope it’s not too disruptive. thank you so much for your patience and i hope you like it :D

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

— — —

Someone from your class had actually asked you out to prom, and since they were the only person to do so, you had accepted. After all, you two were on good terms.

Your parents had even brought you to a proper tailor shop to get a three piece suit. Since it was made to your measurements, it fit perfectly. You couldn’t help but check yourself out in the mirror a couple of times: you looked fresh.

The morning and afternoon before prom, you felt like ants were crawling in your pants; you couldn’t sit still. You had been looking forward to this night for a while. You probably also would have gone without a date; you just wanted to have a good time with your friends. But knowing that someone was gonna come pick you up any minute made it more thrilling.

You watched the clock in your room, first with anticipation, then with worry. The time your date was supposed to be at your door was now 30 minutes in the past. If they were late, they would have texted you, right?

Again and again you watched as the clock hands slowly moved forward. You texted them a couple of times asking if everything was okay, but there was no reaction. They didn’t even see the messages. It wasn’t until almost an hour after the supposed pick-up time that you got a text, and you rushed to your phone on your bed. It was April. As you read the message and saw the attached photo, your heart dropped to your stomach.

— — —

The turtle lied in his bed, feeling a strange sense of defeat. He’s been crushing on you for a while now, and he knew that right at this moment, you’d be on the dance floor with your date, having the time of your life. He sighed loudly, wishing that could be him. The whole day he had held himself back from texting you to ask how you were doing, and how the night was going. You probably wouldn’t even check your phone. The turtle had accepted his fate, and tried to fall asleep so the day would be over quicker. Tomorrow you’d come to him to tell everything about prom night anyways. A bittersweet smile spread on his face at that thought.

As he rolled over and over on his bed in frustration, he heard footsteps entering the lair. He’d recognise those steps from miles away; it was you. With joy but also confusion at your arrival, he bolted up and went to greet you. Seeing your dejected face, he was about to ask what was wrong, but his brain stopped computing as he saw how incredible you looked.

🔵 Leo

*Jaw dropped on the ground like a cartoon*

You looked amazing!

The vest accentuated your waist and the tailored pants stylised your form, making you look taller and more slender.

The fact you were holding your jacket over your shoulder with your shirt sleeves rolled up, didn’t help either; you looked effortlessly cool.

Leo needed a second to regain his composure.

He forced his eyes up to meet your face, so as to stop shamelessly checking you out.

Your eyes were a bit glossed over; it’s clear you were about to cry.

When you told him that you got stood up for your date and showed him the photo April sent you, of your date dancing with someone else and holding them awfully close, Leo just felt angry.

How dare they leave you hanging!

And when you looked so good no less!

And either way, you so didn’t deserve that!

Leo was about to grab his swords to portal himself to school and kick this person’s butt, but then he got a better idea.

He suggested that you hang out with him instead.

Since you were now free, you agreed. You could use the distraction.

You decided to go to the Arcade in the Hidden City.

There were a couple of new games you had been wanting to check out.

The night was an absolute blast; even though you were planning on having a good time with your classmates, you were kinda glad you got stood up because you knew you had a better time with Leo in one night than your so-called “date” could give you in a lifetime.

And the fact that you won most of the games was just the cherry on top.

Leo was an adorably pouty loser.

You also hadn’t missed the way the turtle would steal glances at you, giving you a quick one-over every so often.

After almost running out of money at the Arcade, you decided to grab something to eat.

The two of you sat on a bench in the park, eating pretzels.

“Thank you for taking me out here, Leo. I’m glad the night wasn’t a total bust after all.”

“Anytime. In fact, we should do this more often, I really had a good time.”

“Me too…” you answered earnestly, turning to him.

Something in Leo’s eyes changed; his gaze was softer, lingering.

So you decided to tease him a little.

“And if you want, I can wear the suit again” you added with a little eyebrow wiggle.

You laughed and gently patted his shell as Leo choked on his pretzel, cheeks flustered.

🔴 Raph

Raph was torn between complimenting you and asking what was up.

He had no problem telling you how good you looked; he’d do it often, in hopes that one day you’d catch on that he’s actually into you.

But when you looked up at him almost in tears, his brain went into mother hen mode.

He asked what was wrong, and you told him you got stood up, showing him April’s texts.

His face contorted in anger, his fists clenched and you could see a couple of red sparks flash over his arms from his Ninpo.

If it were up to him, he’d throw hands with this jerk, no doubt.

Seeing that he was getting worked up, you put your hands on his arm to calm him down, telling him that there was no use. They probably never intended to go with you anyways.

Raph inwardly melted at your touch, immediately calming down, then announcing that it was their loss to not hang out with you.

He suggested going to the Hidden City to spend the night, since you were already dressed for an occasion, whatever it might be.

You accepted the offer, and off you two ran.

You spent the night at a ‘50s themed yokai diner, which served… interesting looking food.

But they also had the classics like eggs and waffles and fries.

For more comfort you took off your suit jacket and neatly placed it next to you on the seat.

Raph couldn’t help but blush a little at how well the vest hugged your torso at all the right places.

Tucked away in a booth, you two talked and goofed off for hours on end, stuffing your faces, almost choking on food several times because of how much you laughed.

You were still careful not to get anything on your suit though and did an excellent job.

As the night was coming to an end, you two enjoying your smoothies, Raph noticed you had gotten some whipped cream on your cheek.

Without thinking, he reached over the table and gently wiped it off your face with his thumb.

You looked at him with big eyes, abruptly stopping what you were saying, and Raph’s face went red.

As he stuttered and apologised, you told him it was okay with a slight blush of your own.

Before he could pull away, you gently put your hand over his, your cheek leaning into his touch.

“Thank you for today. We should do this more often” you said softly.

Raph’s brain all but short-circuited as he thanked the gods and the universe for what’s-their-face dumping you today so he got this chance with you.

🟠 Mikey

Mikey went to greet you in his high energy manner as always, calling your name in a sing-sang voice as he made his way to the entrance.

The first thing he said when he saw you was “woah!”, all starry-eyed, taking in your looks.

Then he approached you and asked what was wrong.

As soon as you told him you got stood up and showed him April’s texts, he crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head in a disapproving manner.

Being the empath of the group, he first hugged and comforted you. Physical contact like this wasn‘t rare with you two.

Then he got a mischievous grin, and you couldn't help but wonder what was going on in that mind of his.

Bringing you to his room, he showed you some new “babies“ he got: several new paint spray cans.

He was planning on painting a mural on the side of the skating ramp but this would be a much better use in his eyes, if he got to distract you for a while.

Mikey gave you a big hoodie that reached almost down your knees, so you wouldn’t get paint on your nice clothes, and then you two took off.

You spent the night going from alley to alley, from street to street, leaving little drawings here and there.

Mainly you drew little turtles in every colour you could get your hand on.

Mikey made some really cool looking hand lettering. He wrote your name, in a different style each time.

You also noticed how with every new graffiti, he seemed to add more and more hearts to your name as well.

By the time you were done with your little city tour, you found yourself hiding behind the parking lot at school.

You wondered how you had not noticed that he guided you here, but that’s how good he was at keeping your mind focused on the good time you were having with him.

Suddenly remembering the events before your little escapade, you felt sad again, but mostly just annoyed. Why did they see the need to stand you up? They could have just called.

Mikey noticed where your brain was going and made you look up across the parking lot.

You understood the plan.

In your hands: several spray cans.

In your sight: your date’s car.

In your mind: sweet revenge.

You two made quick work out of it, not writing down anything obscene or offending; just decorating the car with a lot of scribbles, flowers and animals, leaving it undamaged but very colourful.

Giggling like little kids, you two scurried off just as quickly as you had arrived.

You ended up on Albearto’s rooftop, sitting on the hoodie and munching on some pizza.

As you looked out to the city lights, you sighed in contentment.

“I had so much fun Mikey, thank you” you said.

Mikey did a theatrical bow, stating how he also had a great time.

“We should do this more often” you said, and thought to yourself: It almost felt like a date.

Judging by Mikey’s expression, you had not only said that in your mind though.

You both blushed and looked away from each other.

After some silence Mikey finally answered, almost shy:

“That can be arranged.”

🟣 Donnie

All Donnie could do when he laid eyes on you was stare.

For probably the first time in his life he was rendered speechless: you looked beyond fantastic.

Squirming a little under his intense gaze, you called his name.

Snapping out of it, Donnie asked why you were at the lair. Not that he wasn’t happy to see you. But weren’t you supposed to be elsewhere?

You told him how you got stood up out of nowhere, showing him April’s messages.

In the blink of an eye he had already formulated a masterplan in his mind about how he was gonna hack all of this person’s devices and make their existence a little more miserable.

Just by looking at Donnie’s “scheming face”, as you called it, you already knew what was going on.

With a dejected sigh you told him it wasn’t worth the trouble, and instructed him to not attack this person in any way or form.

After a couple of tries on his part to negiotiate something viable, changing the terms a little bit here and there, he finally assured you he wouldn’t do any funny business.

You knew he would probably still so something small like hack into this person’s phone and log them out of all the apps or delete a game save or something like that.

There was no stopping Donnie when he set his mind on something, after all.

For the moment, you decided you needed a distraction.

Donnie said he knew the perfect place, and took you to the Hidden City.

There was a roller skating rink, the floor being smooth wood, and you could rent skates.

You had used inline skates before, but never these ones with the wheels in a 2x2 position.

As you entered the rink, you were about to lose your balance, so you grabbed onto the first thing you could, which was Donnie’s arm.

After some awkward apologies, flustered cheeks, and him having to catch you a couple of times mid-air, you two decided that it would be easiest for you to keep your balance if you skated next to each other hand in hand.

At first it felt a little silly, but the more you skated, the more comfortable you felt in the skates, keeping your balance.

The speakers around the rink were blasting music, which faded into the next song, and you and Donnie looked at each other in glee: an 80’s banger.

He was a skilled skater, and had you twirling and dancing with him in the group of people and creatures on the rink. Never once did he let you fall or bump into someone.

Your face hurt from so much laughing, and you told him you needed a break.

Skating towards the edge of the rink, you held onto the railing and took a breather.

Coming down from your high, you turned towards Donnie, and were faced with how he was looking at you in a state you could only describe as enamored.

Did your heart just skip a beat?

Shaking that thought off your mind, you spoke first.

“I had honestly no idea a place like this existed down here. Thank you so much for bringing me Donnie, this is exactly what I needed.”

“My pleasure” he said, and seemed to hesitate for a second before adding: “In fact, I’ve actually been meaning to come here with you for a while now.”

“Then we should definitely come again.” You gave him a sincere smile, your face glowing under the flashing neon lights.

Unbeknownst to either of you, you both thought at the same time: It’s a date then.

~~~~~

🐥 taglist: [more info in my pinned post!] @hearteyedracoon, @koalaray, @maribatshipper, @whygz, @lovelylovelydreams

[babyhatesreality]

hello hello! i absolutely adore your writing!! ^^

question for you and a little thinker if you’re up for it.

what do you think would happen if little!reader/katie started going through a “forties phase?” dressing up like little girls did back then and trying to use an accent “like they do in the movies,” the whole gimmick.😭

i feel like one day katie would just be scrolling through videos on her ipad, stumbles upon steve’s old war movies and just gets hooked😭💀

part of me thinks stucky would like it and entertain it for a good minute haha. another part of me though feels like it would kinda be a little strange to see their modern little one trying to act like a kid from back then.

i don’t know if katie would be more interested in getting into makeup or just the fashion bit but i’d really love to see this from your perspective! :D

My love. You have been so incredibly patient and I thank you. I hope I do your absolutely brilliant idea justice. Enjoy <3

The Good Ol' Days

Pairing: Daddy!Stucky x little! f reader

Warnings: DDLG (SSC), f! reader, reader is named but name scarcely used, language, tiny bit of angst from daddies, fluffity fluff fluff fluff.

YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. THIS STORY IS SFW- THE REST OF MY BLOG IS NOT NECESSARILY SO. MINORS DNI. I DO NOT CONSENT FOR MY WORK TO BE STOLEN, COPIED, OR TRANSLATED ONTO ANY OTHER SITE BUT MY OWN. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated.

Steve's head shot up when he heard you shriek. He knew you well enough to know that you were fine, just excited about whatever you'd just found. Sure enough, three seconds later, he heard your little feet tearing your way towards him, and he grinned to himself. As much as he was always worried about you falling while you were running, he couldn't help but love how excited you got when you were running to share something special with him.

You flung yourself into the office, and just as he was turning his head to look at you, you suddenly shrieked again.

"WAIT!"

You tore back out of the office, then knocked with a furious flurry at the door, remembering that you were always supposed to knock before just coming into the office. Steve bit back the laughter and barely got out "Come in."

Hurtling yourself into the office once more, you looked like you'd just won the lottery. Wondering what on earth you were up to, he decided to praise you on remembering your rules first.

"Good job remembering to knock, Katie Cat," he said, noting the iPad in your hand with curiosity. You scrambled onto his lap without so much as a how-do-you-do, and shoved the iPad under his nose with a look of wonder on your face. "What did you find?" he asked you, amused.

"You was in da movies, Papa!!" you shrieked, so excited.

"Inside voices, please, kitten. What do you mean, I was-" Before he could finish the statement, you yanked the iPad back down to your lap and jabbed your finger on it. The screen filled with Steve's old WW2 victory tour footage. Even though it had been years since he'd seen any of this- honestly, he'd forgotten that old film reels of this even existed- it all came rushing back to him. He forgot where he was in time for five seconds, just watching the past all over again, before your wiggling and giggling brought him back to the present.

"You was a STAR in the old times!! A'fore the 'Vengers!!" you squealed excitedly. "Was you in the Broadway??"

Steve laughed. They'd recently taken you to a Broadway show for the first time and it was your current obsession. "No, angel, I wasn't on Broadway. This was when I was in Europe during the big war."

"Ohhhh. The big war had people dancing in tights?" you asked, thoroughly confused by his answer. That made him nearly choke laughing. After he collected himself, he carefully explained to you all about the USO tour and how it was designed to help morale. He didn't mention the heckling that happened on the daily- not something he was keen to relive. He also steered clear of how he happened to find Daddy during one of those tours- that wasn't something that would go over well without Bucky being present, and you being able to hold his hand to know that he was okay now.

The tales of the tour, the costumes, the spotlight was enough to keep you captivated. And started you thinking.

***********************************************

The next morning, while Steve was at work, Bucky was beyond surprised when you followed him around all day, asking questions about the "old times", as you put it. You grilled him non-stop about what he wore, what kind of music he listened to, what was on his iPad during that time (the answer here made you absolutely gobsmacked and took at least an hour to make you understand), how people talked. Then, seeing how excited you were and how interested it was making you, Bucky started telling you stories of all the happy times that he and Steve went to Coney Island before the war.

This gave you a FANTASTIC idea.

*************************************************

It took a long time, with a LOT of help from your extended Avenger family members, and promises of 5 exclusive crayon drawings to Nick Fury, to pull it off. But finally...FINALLY...you got an entire day off for your daddies, a super secret way of getting them there (basically Uncle Clint lied, got them in the car, drove them there, and cheerfully dumped them at the entrance where you were patiently waiting with Aunt Natasha), and a wad of cash (courtesy of a delighted Uncle Tony)...to take your daddies to Coney Island.

When they got out of the car and saw you standing there, their jaws dropped. You were decked out in the cutest pink baby doll romper that could have come straight from a vintage clothing shop, complete with shiny Mary Janes. Your hair was styled into two low pigtails with little pink ribbons, and you were holding Natasha's hand, twisting in excitement and ready to explode with joy.

"Well, well, well! Look at these two DREAMBOATS!" you said, overemphasizing the words so they'd hear you clearly.

Steve's eyebrows shot into his hairline and an amused grin spread across his face. "Dreamboats?" he repeated, getting a good look at you and slowly starting to realize what was happening. "Coming from a cookie like you, that's quite the compliment, missy."

You laughed and squealed with joy, seeing your beloved Papa start to play along. Bucky, however, was throughly confused, wondering what in the hell they were doing at the entrance to an amusement park and why you were there when Clint had said there was a last minute meeting off campus...

"What is happening?" he asked, looking as if you'd all grown three heads. Giggling, you let go of Natasha's hand and skipped to his side. He instantly snatched your hand up, unwilling to let you take any chances, but it just made you smile bigger.

"Dis DAME had a BRAIN CHILD and is gonna take her SUGAR DADDIES to-"

"Nope, not using that one right," Steve interjected with a grin. You ignored him.

"-to Coney Island! I gots all da CLAMS we need and we gonna have a KILLER DILLER time!" you finished triumphantly, thoroughly pleased with yourself. It was the longest 40s speech you'd ever made (you'd been practicing with Auntie Nat and Auntie Yelena on the daily in secret) and you were so proud of yourself you could bust.

Bucky's eyes widened- there was no way that you.... that you had...his eyes shot to Natasha, who was barely holding in her laughter. "We've been IN CAHOOTS for a while about this," she explained, mimicking your speech pattern, her face glowing. "Look, we even had these specially made." Natasha turned to you. "Show 'em, princess."

With glee, you stomped hard on your Mary Janes, and the very edges of the soles lit up. It was obviously the same technology that was in all the Avengers' littles' shoes, just put into a pair of 40s slip ons. "That one took a little convincing, otherwise this would have happened about two weeks ago," Natasha whispered to the both of them.

Steve leaned down to your level. "Did you do all this for us, baby?" he asked, his voice rough with emotion at your display of affection.

"Yup!"

"You...how did you do all this?" Bucky asked in wonder, his heart bursting. You looked smug.

"I gots friends in high places."

And with that burst of laughter, Natasha kissed your forehead, gave your daddies a quick shoulder squeeze, and jumped into the car with Clint, promising that they were just a call away for whenever you all were ready to leave.

One of the most delightful days you'd ever spent together passed. You insisted on your daddies showing you ever square inch of the park that they knew, pointing out where specific stories and funny things had happened, as you squealed in delight and clapped your hands at all the memories. Although there were some initial reservations on Steve's part, the three of you rode the Cyclone until he declared he was going to get sick, then moved on to the Ferris Wheel and even the new Thunderbolt. You tried all the new rides together, ate Nathan's hot dogs and cotton candy, and you even managed to convince them to get stars painted on their faces (while you got a tiger done- it was awesome). You used all your best forties words and terms, making them laugh uproariously.

One memory stirred another and another, and you were mesmerized as they told you story after story, laughing and remembering and falling in love all over again. And they had you with them this time- their love story was finally where it was supposed to be.

Family trips to Coney Island to remember the good ol' days became a once-a-month thing (although they paid for themselves, no more "mooching" off Tony) and they were always some of the best days ever.

[squiddy-god]

Task force T4T

Simon "ghost" Riley

hehehe giggling and kicking my legs thinking of this <3 anyway this is t4t ghost hcs so both ghost and reader are ftm trans men! I don't care if fem aligned people read or interact but please remember that this isn't for you this is for trans men. I'd also like to say I've never read the comics so my knowledge on that is a little limited (if someone who has read the comics wants to educate me I have questions!) 

Tw: tooth rotting fluff, NSFW undercut, masc! Reader, ftm ghost and reader, mentions and descriptions of dysphoria/trama, very self indulgent, allusions to ghosts backstory, period talk, pre bottom surgery reader and Simon. 

Hnggggg where do I even start 

“Task force t4t”- Simons favorite joke (he's not funny) 

There are a few ways y'all could meet honestly 

My favorite two being these : 

1) You meet at a pub, Johnny is bragging and playfully asking Simon why he doesn't get any 

Simon gives him the look™ and soap makes it his mission to get his best bud a date- or at least some ass 

So Johnny scans the bar and is pointing out various people, all of which Simon is… reluctant to Comment on

He's not had a good experience with life in general, much less with relationships 

But then Johnny has to go and point to you, And Simon stares. 

You're a bloody handsome man, you look nervous, like you were dragged out here to this pub. You seem to like layers, black long sleeves with a worn out slipknot T-shirt over top, gloves tucked into your pocket and nails painted black. black eyeliner and the feint growth of a thin patchy mustache and chin stubble.

You've got a few pins, most he thinks are band pins, but one catches his eyes a little blue pink and white flag 

He turns around on the bar stool and mutters while he takes a swig of his Bourbon. 

He can't stop thinking about you for the next few days, hell he goes on a mission and is out drinking after a week. 

Then he sees you again, dressed similar to the first night he saw you. 

Your sitting on a bar stool chatting with your friends, they walk off to get a booth while you call over the bartender and order. 

He can believe he's really gonna shoot his shot. Johnny would be laughing his stupid Scottish head off. 

Your startled when this huge man sits next to you, you aren't nessesarily small by any means but it's not hard to be smaller then Simon when he's 6’4 and beefed up. 

He doesn't look at you, eyes dead forward and half glazed over while he fumbles in his head to think of something to say. 

He doesn't wanna scare you off, hard to do when the skull balaclava and hood aren't doing him Any good. 

“I like your pin mate” he says, voice deep and gruff. Really all he could muster without makeing a fool out of himself. Your eyes scan him, gears in your head turning in realisation. “Thanks- cool mask ya got on there” silence settles but it's not as awkward as Simon would think. “I don't suppose your uh-” you dance around the subject, terrified of being wrong, of offending this bear of a man who could absolutely beat you bloddy. Simon laughs “that's right lovie” his voice is warm like a campfire with a tone like honey. Makes you melt. “‘spose you'd let me Buy you a drink?” You ask turning to face him. “only if I can buy you one too” you chuckle an call the bar tender over, ordering something fruity but not too sweet, he gets Bourbon. “Oh ho a good ‘ole boy are ya?” He chuckles “the best” 

Your friends come back over and are so shocked to see you absolutely smitten with this man. 

Eventually the night passes with you and Simon chatting, eventually exchanging numbers and heading out. 

Meeting number two! Is soap to the rescue tbh

You work at a little coffee shop, soap comes in and orders the same 4 drinks any time he's in. Only place near base (or in general) that has a blend of black tea Simon likes. Johnny is chatty at the counter while he waits, it's never bussy when he comes in- He talks about his friend Simon a lot, 

Reminds you of a mother trying to talk up her son 💀 

Eventually he suggests you go on a date with his buddy, and he suggests to Simon that he go on a date with the cute lad at the Coffey shop. 

You try to tell him that it probably won't work out- asking if his mate would be ok with the hole you being trans thing and Johnny gets the biggest grin, patting your shoulder “aye thats the best part laddie! yer both in the same boat” 

So you agree, and Simon agrees. Johnny is just happy his L.T is shooting his shot! 

Anyway! regardless of how you meet Simon is nervous but a great boyfriend! 

Trans! Simon who where's the mask when he's feeling Dysphoric whitch is often 

He wakes up and doesn't see himself, the PTSD definitely isn't helping but some days the mask helps a lot

Always helps you through your dysphoria, holds you close and assures you that you're a real boy, reminds you that if you're asking “am I fakeing it?” You aren't. 

He has the worst periods smh, horrible cramps, heavy flow and they always seem to last so long. 

Has deadass threatened to throw a tampon at soap. Soap did NOT think that was funny 

He always knows what pads/tampons to get, and once your cycles sync up he's done for, he is irritable and just wants to come home and cuddle you 😤 

Rubs your back when cramps get too bad 

Absolutely melts into a big puddle when you rub his shoulders when he's back home. 

Has beaten up transphobes and will continue to do so<3 his favorite activity tbh 

Works out at home and oh boy is it a ✨sight✨ his top surgery scars are pretty prominent. They come up under where his (now) peck is and they are a bit on the jaged side 

Tossing around the idea of Simon who got either a cool jaged outline over his scars to highlight then, or got smth like barbed wire over them. 

He's proud of his top surgery scars, they're the only scars that HE chose, that he wanted. 

If you still bind he gets you a skull print binder (the dork) 

Matching packers so you both feel less dysphoria! 

Simon “nothing more romantic then helping your s/o take their T-shot” riley. He takes his every morning and if you're comfortable he helps you take yours, especially if you get freaked out by the needles 

Simon is hairall over but complains that the Testosterone goes mostly to his ass 

Que hilarious ass smack 

✨trama bonding✨ Simon has crawled his way out of hell (almost literally) so it feels nice to know that he can confide in you and really have you understand this aspect of him. In a way it makes it easier to open up about the other things he's experienced 

Simon “my dick is huge”/ “my dick is bigger than yours” riley

His idea of real romance is letting you shave down his hair before each deployment. 

If you ever feel Dysphoric and want your hair GONE he shaves your head for you, and lest you shave his head so you match

His pronouns are he/him obviously but he also sometimes uses it/it's when he's feeling like it 

Big star Wars nerd, builds legos but really likes miniatures in general. Will spend hours on making those 3 wooden puzzle things. 

NSFW //

It takes a while for Simon to be comfortable with sex, he has a lot of issues to work through, and a lot of insecuritys 

He doesn't like his body too much, especially not from the waist down, so he can't imagine you like it either

But once he realize that yes, you love his body, that he's safe, that your safe? 

He's a horn dog good Lord he needs a cold shower

Loves giving you head- Simon riley is a munch send tweet 

Can't decide between eating you out like he's trying to drink you or sucking your T-dick like his life depends on it- so he does both 

Oh you accidentally had your binder on to long? Your breasts are tender? He can help- he swears he can make it better lovie just let him massage your boobs so they don't hurt! 

Simon riley is a switch who prefers to top because he likes the control it let's him have and makes him more comfortable 

He can be rough but most of the time he's just so sweet and intimate, I wouldn't nessesarily call it gentle, but its definitely not rough

Strap game is on point so have fun getting that back blown out (or blowing his back out) 

Simon “sweetheart come here, I wanna play with your dick” riley, honestly he's obsessed with it. Playing with your pussy and T-dick while he watches the footie 

Wet dream/fantasys about bottom surgery, he wants a dick, always has, but the thought of being able to really fuck you on HIS dick? Have you choke on his actual cock and not some silicon junk? 

Someone muzzle him fr 

Speaking of muzzling him- he can and WILL leave the WORST hickeys on you everywhere

Looks like you lost a fight to a gang of industrial vacuum cleaners, like dawg calm down nobody is trying to take you away-

Deep deep dark purple with a bit of reddish yellowing around it. 

And boy you are absolutely covered in them. Looks like you where on the receiving end of a paintball firing squad.

[lukeevangelista]

okay so imagine buck coming home from a long day and you know that so you run him a bath and it's v relaxing and maybe a lil spicy?? idk you take the reins, i just am a sucker for good ole pampering your partner

Relax - E. Buckley

I’m in love with him and I’m not sorry

Not edited and prob complete shit, but idc

“You look terrible.”

“I literally just walked through the door and that’s how you greet me after a twenty-four hour shift?”

“Hi honey.” You grinned as you walked over to him, your hands brushing against his chest softly, “You look like shit.”

Buck tossed his head back as he laughed before pressing his lips to yours, a painful groan leaving his lips.

“Rough day?” You asked as you wrapped your arms around him, your hands rubbing at his mid back.

“Yeah.” He sighed, “Eddie was being a dumbass and bumped into me as we were going up the stairs to the kitchen and I fell down the stairs.” He said as he winced, “messed my back up pretty good.”

“Please tell me Bobby made you stay at the fire house after that.” You sighed.

“He tried. I told him I was fine, went to a fire and when I got inside the building, a ceiling tile and some debris hit my back.” He explained even more, “Turns out, that stuff weight more than it looks. Made it worse so he made me stay the rest of the day.” He shrugged as his thumbs rubbed at your collarbones, “Luckily for him, he doesn’t have any paper work to do so I’m sure Athena is happy he’s home early tonight.”

“Oh I’m sure she is.” You grinned up at him, “i couldn’t imagine having a job I love so much that I don’t come straight home after I’ve hurt myself.” You chuckled.

“I love what I do- you know this.” He whispered, “If I have a chance to be out in the field, you know I’m going to take it; whether I’m hurt or not.” He said, “I couldn’t see myself being anything other than a firefighter.”

“I know,” you replied as your hands kept rubbing at his back through his t-shirt, “That’s why you’re best at what you do,” you added, “Although you do think with your heart more than your head and it is going to get you hurt one of these days.” You sighed.

“I know.” He chuckled before wincing in pain. You slowly let go of your sweet boyfriend, his arms coming up to rub the sides of your arms.

“How about I run you a bath and you just relax for a while?”

“Mhm- I’d love that.” He grinned down at you as he started to tug his LAFD t-shirt off, revealing the bruise on his back from where he had hit the stairs.

“I think the stairs won that battle.” You stated as your fingers softly danced across the purple and brown splotch on his back.

“How bad is it?”

“Well, it doesn’t look good.” You chuckled sarcastically causing him to roll his eyes at you.

You walked up the stairs in your apartment as he went towards the kitchen, slowly unpacking his lunchbox from his last shift.

“I got it, E. Don’t worry about it.” You hollered behind you, “You’ve had a long twenty four hours, just rest.”

“But-“

“I don’t need your help.” You laughed from the bathroom as you heard him let out a frustrated groan as he trudged up the stairs, his hands working on the buckle of his navy blue uniform pants.

“It smells like straight lavender in here.” He chuckled as he pulled the belt from the loops before popping the button on his pants, “A little help?” He cheekily grinned.

“I think you’ve got it handled, Buckley.” You rolled your eyes as you patted his thigh.

Buck quickly got undressed, him gingerly slipping into the bathtub- you watching intently as his muscles flexed with every movement.

His eyes danced across your face, slowly trailing down your body as you sat on the floor next to him. His hand came up out of the water, slowly interlacing his with yours.

“Wanna join me?” He asked as he slowly pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, his eyes still locked on your face.

“Baby, that bathtub is the size of your salary, which is to say, very small.” You said as you gave him a lopsided smirk, knowing it would annoy him.

He tossed his head back as he let a groan leave his lips.

“And besides, you’re hurt,” you pointed out, “You’re not getting lucky at all tonight- the most ass something will be getting is that bed once you get out of the bath.”

***

You curled up into Buck’s chest, his arms wrapped protectively around you.

“Thank you for doing that.” He murmured into your hair, his hand coming up to soft brush through it, “I really appreciate it.”

“You’d do it for me.” You replied as you leaned up to look at him.

Buck took the opportunity, him immediately pressing his lips against yours.

You kissed back as his tongue swiped over your bottom lip. His hands gripped at your sides causing you to let out a gasp.

You broke away from Buck, his mouth agape as he watched you press soft kisses to his chest, his hands slowly guiding you down by your shoulders.

You made your way down his torso, nipping and sucking in certain spots.

His strong hands continued to push down before you came back to your senses, realizing that this shouldn’t be happening. Not right now- at least.

“Evan- no.” You whispered as you pulled back, “You’re hurt and I’m not risking it.”

“I’m fine, Y/N,” he started, “I promise.”

“You’re lying, you whore.” You laughed, “Once you’re better and it’s your next off day, we won’t leave this bed.”

“Promise?”

“Oh Buckley, you’re mine once you’re feeling better.”

[bleach-your-panties]

💙🩵16. entertain + swimming pool with armin arlert💙🩵

💙black/poc!fem!reader. modern!au

🩵part of my 28th birthday event.

💙requested by @rheawolf, another long-time supporter of mine! thank you, love! 

🩵featuring @ ejthedon from @chrollohearttags rapper/influencer au. thanks again, love, for letting me use him! 

💙nsfw 18+. mdni!⚠️

💿: humble - kendrick lamar

💿: swimming pools - kendrick lamar

**all music and artists' likenesses belong to them!**

🤍2.6 k words

—-----

See, Armin is very good at hiding details when it comes to surprising you with gifts and dates. 

For your birthday this year, he went all out with getting the two of you front-row tickets to the three-day music festival that Drake and 21 Savage are headlining. Kendrick Lamar will be there on the last night, also, and you're so fucking pumped to see him live. 

As you sit in the beauty salon getting your hair, nails, toes, and eyebrows done (all courtesy of Armin, of course), you excitedly texted your best friend to tell her about your plans for the next couple of days. 

bestie boo🫦🤎:  girl, you're so lucky. i wish  my man was thoughtful like armin. 

you: mhm. he's really the best. 💗

Once you were finished, you texted Armin to pick you up. It didn't take him long to pull up in his ocean-blue BMW. 

"Baby!" You ran and hopped on him. He hugged you to him, pulling your legs around his waist to secure you.

"Hey, dove. Be careful, you don't want to mess up your beautiful nails, do you?"

(Just picture your Zodiac sign)

Sighing softly, you knew he was right. Still, you nuzzled your face into his neck, inhaling his Armani cologne.

"Just happy to see you, that's all…" 

He smiled and rubbed your back. 

"I know, baby. I'm happy to see you, too. Come on, I've got a surprise for you in the car." 

Armin carried you over to the passenger seat and opened the door. You gasped once you saw what was laid out on the seat.

"Armie!" You cried as he let you down back onto your feet. He just chuckled and watched you scoop the bills up neatly to put them inside your wallet.

"What am I supposed to do with all this?" You asked rhetorically, knowing that he wasn't going to take it back by any means.

He shrugged. "Buy yourself something nice and put the rest in your savings. I don't know, baby, do what you want with it. It's yours." 

Tears pooled in your eyes. Armin's so good to you. Sometimes you wondered what you'd done to deserve someone like him.

"Thank you so much, Armie. You always make my birthdays so special." Sniffling and wiping under your eye, you were careful not to mess up your lashes.

"Aww, you're welcome, dove. Anything for you, and you deserve so much more. Let's go, so you can start getting dressed for the concert." 

Nodding happily, you picked up your bouquet of roses and set them in your lap so you could sit down. 

—

The first two nights of the concert were amazing, but it felt like they passed by way too quickly. 

Drake and 21 Savage were phenomenal, as well as the other artists that were featured. Armin and you were turnt up all night long; drinking, dancing, just having yourselves a grand ole time. 

Now you're sitting in your hotel suite getting ready to go see Kendrick. Seeing him perform and then spending the rest of the night with Armin will be the perfect ending to your birthday weekend. 

"Baby, what do you think of my outfit?" 

You did a little spin in the mirror as Armin raised one blonde eyebrow.

"I love it baby, but-"

"I know, I know what you're going to say, but it has shorts underneath it, daddy~"

This caused a little smirk to cover his lips.

"Oh really? Come here and let me feel then.."

You just giggled and playfully swatted his hand away, but Armin grabbed your wrist and pulled you on top of him as he reclined back on the bed.

"You won't have to worry about any creeps trying to cop a feel or anything."

Armin rolled his eyes. 

"I won't have to worry about that anyway, baby. Nobody has any fucking business putting their hands underneath your skirt unless they want to get knocked the fuck out."

He moved his head up to kiss your lips passionately, moving his hand down like he planned in order to feel underneath your skirt.

"Nobody but me…" 

Your eyes closed involuntarily as Armin's fingers traced up your plush ass cheek, stopping to squeeze the soft flesh.

"Mmm, babe…if we don't hurry and leave we're going to be late…" You moaned softly when he began pecking your neck with quick, wet kisses.

Chuckling to himself, his cerulean eyes gazed up into your brown ones before scanning over the rest of your face. You know that look.

He's turned on.

"Armie~" 

He laughed harder at you for moving off of him and attempting to tug him up off the bed.

"Okay baby, I'm coming. I wouldn't make you miss your big night."

"Yay! I love you! Come on, the Uber is probably already downstairs!" 

"Alright, dove. Lead the way…shit." 

Armin was going to have a time walking with this hard-on, and you walking in front of him in that tiny ass skirt wasn't helping whatsoever.

—

(A/N: Bold italics is Kendrick rapping. Regular italics is Armin rapping.)

"How y'all doing tonight?" 

The crowd roared as Kendrick came out on stage.

"I SAID HOW THE FUCK ARE Y'ALL DOING TONIGHT?!" 

You screamed at the top of your lungs, Armin right along with you. 

"That's more like it! Come on, everybody stand up!"

His first song was DNA, which never failed to get you hype.

Followed by Complexion, m.A.A.d city; Bitch, Don't Kill My Vibe, Alright, LOVE, Loyalty, and Poetic Justice.

It all seemed to zoom by as you and Armin danced and sang along to every song.

"Alright, alright. I'm getting ready to close the night off, but let's turn it up one more motherfucking time!" 

Kendrick hollered and the crowd responded in kind.

"Nobody pray for me, it been that day for me, way, yeah yeah!"

You and Armin, much like the rest of the crowd were jumping up and down like maniacs as you belted out the song lyrics. 

Kendrick began moving around the stage as he rapped, coming close enough for you to brush your hand against his pants legs.

You pulled your hand back and stared at it as if it were made of gold.

"I'm never going to wash this hand again." 

Armin just snorted, thinking of how much more impressed you were about to be.

"Ayy, I remember syrup sandwiches and crime allowances. Finesse a nigga with some counterfeits, but now I'm countin' this-

-Parmesan where my accountant lives; in fact, I'm downin' this, D'USSÉ with my boo bae tastes like Kool-Aid for the analysts."

While Kendrick continued on, Armin turned you to face him. You looked up, as his six foot frame easily towered over you.

"Girl, I can buy yo' ass the world with my pay stub. Ooo, that pussy good, won't you sit it on my taste buds?"  

Warmth flooded your cheeks and made your neck itch as Armin rapped to you. He licked his lips and kept his eyes trained on your face. 

"MY LEFT STROKE JUST WENT VIRAL!" Rang out around you, but you were still trapped in Armin's azure gaze.

"Right stroke put lil baby in a spiral." 

He grabbed your hand and twirled you around, making you giggle.

"It's levels to it, you and I know. Bitch be humble, sit down. Be humble, sit down. Be humble, bitch, sit down. Be humble, sit down." 

"Who dat nigga thinkin' that he frontin' on Man Man? Get the fuck off my stage, I'm the Sandman. Get the fuck off my dick, that ain't right. I make a play fucking up your whole life." 

"I'm so fucking sick and tired of the Photoshop. Show me something natural like afro on Richard Pryor. Show me something natural like ass with some stretch marks." 

Armin was really feeling himself as he rapped to you with his natural poise and charisma. 

He was looking so handsome in only a simple, black U-neck tee, gold chain, and diamond studs glimmering in each ear. Light-wash ripped jeans adorned his long, lean legs, ending in a simple black pair of low Air Forces.

You were starting to forget all about Kendrick with Armin looking at you the way he was and snaking that sneaky hand back around your waist to rest just above your ass.

When the song ended, Armin kissed your temple and turned you back to face the stage just as Kendrick began to speak.

"So, I've been told that we have a birthday in the house tonight. A Miss Y/n L/n?"  

Your pupils immediately grew two sizes and you tried to turn to look at Armin, but he kept you still and faced forward by gripping your biceps. 

"Speak up, baby. So everyone can hear you.." Armin whispered into your ear as Kendrick knelt on one knee to extend the microphone out to you. 

"T-that's me…I'm Y-Y/n…" You spoke timidly into the microphone. That made Kendrick smile. 

"I'm glad you came out to see me tonight, Miss Y/n. I think my good friend will also be glad that you came." 

His good friend? What was going on here? 

Nothing else needed to be explained as EJ walked out with a microphone. He dapped Kendrick up while you just started screaming like a maniac. 

Both of the men on the stage laughed as they watched you turn and throw your arms around Armin's neck and kiss all over his face. 

"Why didn't you tell me that we were seeing EJ, too?!" He laughed when you began playfully hitting his chest. 

"If I told you, it wouldn't have been a surprise!" 

Armin helped you up onto the stage when EJ motioned for you. 

"Alright, let's continue this birthday party then! Do you have anything that you want to say, baby girl?" He held the microphone out to you. 

"I…I just love you…" 

EJ chuckled. 

"I love you too, sweetheart. Happy birthday and thank you for being a devoted fan. Let's go!" 

EJ kept you on stage with him the entire time as he performed all of your favorite songs. Armin even came up and the three of you danced, rapped, and sang together. 

After the concert, you and Armin went backstage with EJ and had drinks with him, Kendrick, and the other artists that had been a part of the festival. 

After the meet-and-greet, you were sent home with a gift basket full of autographed memorabilia. 

—-

"I had such a great time tonight, Armie."

You sighed in content as you sank down into the warm, bubbly water of the indoor hot tub.

Armin reclined next to you, wet hair stuck to his forehead in dripping strands. He looked so damn good like this, and after all he'd done for you tonight, your folds were slick with your desire for him.

"Yeah, baby? I'm glad you did, sweet girl." 

He grabbed your waist and pulled you on top of him, sitting you right on top of his hard dick.

You wrapped your arms around his neck just as he sat up to press his lips against yours. 

Armin gently held your neck while his tongue rubbed against yours. He sucked on your bottom lip, top lip, and each corner of your mouth.

"Mmm…babe.." 

"Mhmm…shit, girl." He grabbed a handful of your ass and smacked it hard. Your fingers moved to his neck to play with his chain while your wet breasts squished against his hard chest.

—

i think that I’m feeling the vibe

i see the love in her eyes 

i see the feeling the freedom is granted 

as soon as the damage of vodka arrived

this how you capitalize, this is parental-advised

and apparently, i'm over-influenced

by what you are doin'

i thought i was doin' the most 

til someone said to me

—

"Baby?" You asked innocently, still twirling his chain in your fingers while you stared into his deep ocean-blue eyes.

"Yes, my love?" 

You moved your hand from his neck to trail it down his side and over his stomach. His dick twitched underneath you, making you grin. 

"Why aren't you inside of me yet?"

Armin's eyes widened for a brief second before they became slanted, a devilish grin splitting his soft, pink lips apart, showcasing perfect, white teeth.

His hand on your ass began moving your bikini bottoms to the side. You watched him suck on the opposite hand's thumb and move it down to your top, pushing the triangle-shaped fabric to the side so he could rub his spit over your nipple and make it harden in the cool air conditioning surrounding you.

"Take it, daddy. It's yours." 

Armin cussed under his breath, moving his eyes back and forth between your beautiful face and hard nipples.

"Shit, baby girl. Don't have to tell me twice." He smirked at your use of his words from earlier and sank you down on his cock with one push of his hand on your ass.

—-

nigga, why you babysittin' only,

two or three shots?

imma show you how 

to turn it up a notch

first you get a swimming pool 

full of liquor, then you dive in it

pool full of liquor, then you dive in it

—-

Armin bounced you sloppily on his dick, making the water slosh around every which way in the hot tub.

His movements were usually more precise, making sure that he angled his dick just right to hit your G-spot, but right now he was drunk as fuck and just trying to fuck into you hard and fast enough to make you both cum.

“Armie! I’m close!” You whined, holding onto his neck with your legs wrapped tightly around his thighs.

“Oh yeah, I am too, dove…s-shit. Hold onto me, tight.” 

You were about to ask why, but Armin stood to his full height and pulled your legs around his hips. 

“Armin! I’m going to fall!” You panicked/moaned as he bounced you on him harder and harder. If someone were to walk in right now, they’d get quite the eyeful.

“Hush, I wouldn’t let you fucking fall. Drunk or not.” He smushed his face into your neck and inhaled your sweet scent before biting down on your neck. With one last hard thrust, Armin came inside of you. 

It was so much that it began to leak out and down your thighs, but he moved to sit down on the steps leading out of the tub so it wouldn’t drip into the water.

“Forever the gentlemen…” You panted, pressing your cheek against his while you rode out your orgasm.

“Always for you, my love. Happy birthday.” He smiled and kissed your lips, holding you close to him.

—-

i wave a few bottles then I watch em’ all flock

all the girls wanna play baywatch

i got a swimming pool full of liquor

and they dive in it

pool full of liquor, imma dive in it

[elliwiny]

TLDR The Musical Chicago Taught Me About The Terrible Societal Pressure to Perform Gender Way Before I Really Understood What That Even Was

So it's Pride Month! And I've been listening to Chicago basically every day because it's exactly the length of my commute right now so I wanted to write about it.

I didn't grow up questioning my gender, and I guess my sexuality was 'I'll worry about that when I'm older' - until I got to my 20's and hit the 'oh shit, I haven't got the feelings I'm supposed to have, is something wrong with me?' phase of my existence.

Bringing it around to Chicago - I mean, look at her! It's Catherine Zeta Jones! Everybody is a little attracted to women, right? They're supposed to be hot! That's just how it is!

Hahahahaha.

But other than my hilariously delayed lesbianism I think Chicago stealthily gave me a primer on the fucked up ways our society enforces gender performance. Because you don't have to be trans to be in a situation where your life depends on giving 'em the ol' razzle dazzle.

The protagonist, Roxy Hart, is an asshole, a murderer, and kind of a ditz. Most of the criminals are right assholes, some are more sympathetic, and one is even 100% innocent! Aside from the innocent Hungarian, the thing the prisoners have in common is that they were boxed in, and were driven to violence after being pushed too far.

Whether 'too far' is justified is immaterial to the point. They became outlaws, and must perform womanhood to win over the court of public opinion and earn their 'not guilty' verdicts. And it's not just the kind of performance where you have to color inside the lines to not come off as weird, it's the kind where you dance and contort for the entertainment of the people who get to decide whether you get to live or die.

In Roxy's case this is kind of awesome. She's always wanted to be a star and with the power of hot-headed cold-blooded murder, she's stumbled ass-backwards into an unexpected avenue of fame and attention. She's determined to do this well, not for her survival (she doesn't appreciate the gravity of the situation, yet) but for a way to launch a career as a singer.

I mean what's Roxy's other choice? Go back to Amos? The guy who affectionately puts her on the same level as a housecat in his song? He's not the one who 'pushed' her, poor guy can't push anybody to do anything, but that's not even an option she entertains. I used to think he was one of the few good people in this movie/show, but it became pretty clear to me that devotion isn't the same thing as love.

Anyway, enter Billy Flynn, famous lawyer and expert ringmaster. In the song where he talks to the press, they do this cool thing where the reporters' initial questions don't follow the melody at first. As Billy crafts Roxy's story they quickly fall into the structure of the music, too. They draw the conclusions he wants them to, too. "Understandable! Comprehensable! Not a bit reprehensible, it's so defensible~"

Roxy's cover story is absurd, by the way, but it ingeniously plays to her type. She's a ditz but she's not naive, she has incredible natural instincts for the game she's playing. (Well, when it counts. She is resistant following the script, which sometimes gets her in trouble)

Roxy's innocent veneer plays contrast to the Hungarian, who becomes the first woman in the county to be hung for murder. She can't speak the language, literally, which locks her out of being able to play the game at all. In the framework of Roxy's imagination, we see the Hungarian's death as another performance... Because it is!

If you cannot perform, a narrative will be assigned to you and we will cheer for your pretty corpse. The metaphor could not be more clear. This is when shit gets real for Roxy, too.

Velma Kelly is also a good performer, who knows the game, but she has a disadvantage to Roxy. Her story just isn't as good. Nobody really believes she didn't do it, she's already so entrenched in the circus of jazz and liquor and sin that sentencing her is the least interesting outcome. I think that's why she gets away with shit like 'oh I blacked out I can't remember a thing' and getting her charges thrown out in exchange for her testifying against Roxy.

After all, she can't do it alone ;) if she didn't suck up her pride and embrace the pivot to playing the heel in Roxy's story, I bet she'd be hanging, too. Or at least, destitute.

They're both discarded by the public as soon as the verdict is passed and there's fresh blood to gawk at. The only way they survive as independent women cast outside the protections offered as stifled housewives is to embrace the world of Jazz, liquor, and sin... and most importantly, the narrative of the rivalry that they perform for those roaring ding-dong-daddies.

And it's not so bad, because that's what they both wanted, anyway.