Earned It || Bucky x Reader

Summary → Upon receiving his orders to join the 107TH, your mother insists on throwing your long-term boyfriend a wholesome, farewell dinner. But Bucky has different plans in mind. (Set in the 1940′s.)

Word Count → 3.2K

Warnings → Cursing, teasing, fingering, unprotected sex (use protection, kiddos). 

A/N → Happy #FreakyFriday y’all! This is by far my absolute favorite smut I have ever written. Sergeant Barnes being a tease while wearing his uniform? Yes, please. Enjoy & as always, can’t wait to hear your feedback!

“Y/N, could you fetch the floral arrangement? It’s on the kitchen counter next to the toaster.” Your mother instructed, though she would never admit it to you, she was clearly a wreck of nerves.

You nodded with a soft smile before scurrying off to the adjacent kitchen. You found the centerpiece she’d put together with ease, primarily composed of daisies and sunflowers, exactly where your mother had said. It was perfectly arranged in a circular vase, it’s meticulous beauty undoubtedly coming from your mother’s years working as a florist. You took the vase carefully between your hands, gripping it tightly as you hurried back to her.

“Where should I place it?” You questioned, watching as she fidgeted incessantly with the table settings.

“Just there, between the candles.” She pointed to a small space at the center of the table, not bothering to meet your gaze as she adjusted the utensils. With a few final touches, here and there, your mother straightened up and smoothed over her apron. “What do you think?”

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I watch the older butches. They have perfectly shined shoes and crisply ironed dress shirts; ties that point politely down, slung around necks I want to carefully touch; thick belts and square edges and hair that looks like it’s been freshly cut at all times; change in a loose jangle at the bottom of pockets calling out an insistent rattle as they walk by; neatly clipped nails on hands that are forever ready to hold open the door. Their postures are straight and stiff, except for the ones who stoop their shoulders to hide their softness.

The butches are always quietly determined to get the drinks. I watch their calm circle to the bar and back, nobly presenting cocktails to femmes who take them like prizes. At the end of the night, I see them hold up coats with outstretched arms for their tired femmes, hail cabs with one authoritative arm reaching for the stars, the other wrapped lightly around their girl’s waist. They make everything look charmed and easy–rolling coins across the table with a silver flash; arm-wrestling with their sleeves rolled up as my eyes hungrily lock on their tensed forearms; swinging Zippo lighters open before I’ve even contemplated having a cigarette. I crave their softness, how gentle they can me in touch and gesture; I love their hardness, all of the sharp lines and angles I want to feel the pinch of and press myself against. They wear their difference out there every day in a mostly hostile world. They take refuge in approving nods of other butches, in welcoming smiles of the femmes at the bar. When they are here, they are home. When they are here, there is nowhere else.

—  Debra Anderson,
Thicker than Water - Part 5

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5)


Bucky x Reader series

Summary: Inspired by this post (x)
Being born and raised in a HYDRA family means you must be a devoted member to the organisation, carrying out orders with blind obedience. But after being assigned the suicide mission of being the Winter Soldier’s handler, you slowly start to question where your loyalties truly lie.

Warnings: Blood, violence, swearing

Word count: 4286 It’s so LONG!

A.N: I am so exited for this!! I know it took me FOREVER to write and post this chapter but I really like the way the series is turning out and I hope you really enjoy this part.
I also want to thank @wordsturnintostories for helping me with writers block and a THOUSAND than you’s to  @vashanatasha for her help with the Russian translations. This entire chapter is dedicated to her because she’s a literal angel and this wouldn’t have come to life without her. <3

Originally posted by led-lite

March 2009 
Ukraine - 1307 Hours

“The target is a highly valued scientist of S.H.I.E.L.D that’s about to be smuggled out of Iran by one of their operatives, but we’re intercepting them with an operative of our own.” The voice belonging to one of the commanders had long ago become white noise to you as you walked ahead of him, clad in tactical gear full with a thick belt and combat boots, with a knife strapped to one of your thighs. “Your punishment is to go.”

“What do you mean this is punishment? It’s murder! I’ve never had any proper agent training and now you’re sending me out there to die.”

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anonymous asked:

31- things you said while I cried in your arms in kic verse please?

31) things you said while I cried in your arms

“Victor, it’s—”

“Don’t you dare say it’s fine.”

Yuuri sighs, stroking Victor’s hair as the man continues to cry in his arms. He needs him to calm down soon; it’s only a matter of time before someone walks by and spots them folded together in one of the plush armchairs in Yuuri and Mila’s office area. The editor-in-chief sobbing into his secretary’s chest—Yuuri shudders at the rounds of gossip that would provoke. The chat channels had just started to die down, too.

“People make mistakes,” Yuuri says gently.

Victor sniffles. “A mistake is pairing a thick belt with an A-line skirt. A mistake is wearing tweed and wool and flannel. Wearing zebra print in the middle of summer? That’s a mistake. But this,” he says tearfully, pointing an angry finger at the catalog that’s now been thrown on the floor. “This is a tragedy. Disrespectful. Assaulting.”

“I want to sue,” Victor continues. He gives Yuuri a pleading look. “Can’t I sue?”

“You can’t sue Balenciaga for having a bad design, Victor,” Yuuri reminds him.

“A bad design,” Victor repeats, wiping at the corner of his eyes. It’s not fair, Yuuri thinks absently. Even when he’s distraught, he’s so pretty like this. “That’s not a bad design. It’s not even a design at all. It’s a fucking IKEA bag—why are you looking at me like that? Shit, did I ruin my mascara?”

Yuuri startles, swallowing because his throat had gone dry. “No, no. Er. You’re good.”

Victor sighs forlornly, just as Chris walks in. The creative director looks distressed. “V-Victor, did you see the—”

“Yes, can you believe—”

And that’s how, later, Mila finds Yuuri’s arms full of both men sobbing into his neck, looking both anxious and apologetic about the situation. She’s tempted to join them because she’s seen it too, eyes still burning from the after-effects of it, but there’s work to do and deadlines to meet.

“Honestly, Yuuri,” she huffs, pulling all three of the men to their feet.

(based on this actual catastrophe)

Shower and Grime: Loki x Reader (NSFW)

Said I’d write more of it and I did! It feels kinda rushed at a certain point and I am meh about that but hope the rest is good

Hot water spurt out of the faucet, raining down marvelously on the tiled floor. You smiled, holding your hand up to it and watching the mud, mostly dried now, run off your hand before landing on the ground and swirling around the drain. The temperature would be heavenly, able to ease even the deepest aching of your shoulders and your smile widened.

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anonymous asked:

Could you do a itty bitty prompt of maybe the big three finding an old tape of Tony, when he was young and a punk playing in a band, blown away by his singing voice. That we all know RDJ has in real life. XXXX

I read old tape and I’m doing old tape and these boys won’t know what hit them.


Finding the tape had been a complete accident. They had been in a middle of raiding the old stacks of ‘ancient’ boxes that Tony had unlovingly stashed away in the deepest and most hidden closet to ever exist to search for the elusive pictures of baby Tony that they knew existed somewhere. Tony had refused to hand them over or revealed their locations and had forbidden Rhodey from offering any of his own pictures of teen Tony during their time at MIT.

Not easily diverted the three decided if Tony wasn’t going to offer them willingly, they would go on a massive hunt for them, all secretly of course. They couldn’t risk Tony burning them as a last retort. After some careful inquiring and a bribe or two they managed to learn about the stacks of boxes that haven’t been touched in years and the possible locations for it. Believing the closet to be the most obvious they quickly went through a treasure hunt to find it and were rewarded with four cardboard boxes covered in dust and taped shut. Steve and Bucky didn’t even bother to find a sharp object to cut through the tape, tearing it open with their hands.

They were positive Tony would’ve swoon from the sight had he been there to see it.

The first box didn’t give them anything worth the effort. The second box was no better. The third at least had some old Captain America merchandise, masks and action figures that haven’t seen the light of day in a long time and gave them something to tease Tony about. The fourth box, however, was a gold mine. Inside were chains and belts and thick leather bracelets with spikes and even a pair of boots that seemed to go up to the knees. The find in itself was enough to make them coo and aww at the idea of Tony wearing what was referred to as ‘punk’ style, but it was the two items hidden under the boots that had shifted enough after Steve yanked the box out of Bucky’s arm that that had them itching to hear what was recorded.

It was an old tape and a cassette player. On the tape the words “not worth it” was written on it in chicken scratch that didn’t belong to Tony. The player, to their surprise, still worked and whirred to life, clicking open after Bucky had pressed a button on it. The three exchanged looks, agreeing it was now or never and understanding what they were getting themselves into.

They placed the player in the middle and carefully inserted the tape, fearful that one rough move would cause the entire thing to combust. T’Challa was silent assigned as the button presser and started the tape. They were instantly assaulted by the sounds of a very loud crowd in the distant. People were screaming and cheering and chanting words they couldn’t distinguish. For seconds it continued like this until eventually a voice was heard loud and clear, yet still somewhat obscured.

“You better be grateful for this, Tones. I swear I saw this chick with more piercings than bracelets and she had bracelets covering her entire arm. There needs to be a limit there.”

The three gaped at hearing the voice that could only belong to James Rhodes. It was clear he was the one recording the tape, but what in the world was he doing in an environment he obviously didn’t want to be at?

Another moment of screaming. “Finally, you’re coming up.”

The crowd, in what seemed as an impossible feat, hushed down to murmurs and stomps. The three held their breath, waiting for what was to happen. It had to be something big, considering it was recorded by Rhodey and was hidden in a box instead of thrown away so it had sentimental value.

None of them were ready for what was actually on the tape.

It started off powerful and rough and slowly grew and grew, overtaking the murmurs and causing the speakers of the player to tremble slightly.

Steve, Bucky and T’Challa all saw each other’s mouths drop when they realized… Tony was singing.

Tony’s starting note continued to rise until eventually it broke as he reached his peak and began his vocals, fast and confident and it drove the crowd crazy. They cheered again and there were faint noises of hard things hitting the floor that sounded suspiciously of bodies doing so. Possibly fainting, they concluded. Had they not been in so much shock themselves they probably would have fainted on the spot as well because, holy shit.

“Louder, Tones! Bring the roof down!” They heard Rhodey scream.

Steve and Bucky scrambled to grab the player, wanting it closer. They struggled, bit and kicked and put up a heck of a fight only to have T’Challa snatch the player right out of their hands and hold it above them.

Tony released another note, one that really did cause them to clutch their chest and lie on the floor as they no longer could support themselves.

“Shit,” Bucky whispered while staring at the ceiling.

“Agreed,” T’Challa began questioning his life.

“We need to find Tony,” Steve managed and while the three nodded to the plan none of them made the effort to move and search for their genius.

Instead, when the recording stopped, “Play it again.”

They lost track of how long they were in that closet for, but after Tony found them hours later, rag dolls on the ground and clutching the player for dear life, they decided they didn’t care. It was all worth it.

Originally posted by keepcalmandcallnico

Seemed fitting to include this right here

walker-of-yggdrasil  asked:

Angs prompt idea :) : Kylo turn back to the light and become Ben Solo again and Hux expect to stay with him in sake of their love (maybe he want to redeem himself too ?) Except that Ben is now disgusted by him/ forgot totally about him and only see him as a fanatic terrorist (I'm sorry :D)


Hux can’t help but stand from the bench in his cell and leap towards the door when he sees Kylo suddenly standing on the other side, finally come to his lover’s rescue. Hux has been imprisoned by these barbaric bounty hunters for weeks now, spending every second of his time in captivity wishing to see his brave and beautiful knight on the other side of the door.

But as Hux stares at Kylo through the reinforced glass, he doesn’t feel the sense of elation he thought he would.

Kylo looks…different. Instead of his infamous black robes, he’s wearing a pair of navy slacks, a white shirt and a black vest. Even his hair; the luscious locks of dark hair that Hux hated to love is tied back into a messy bun at the nape of his neck, hidden as though forbidding Hux from running his fingers through it like he’s missed doing.

Kylo’s dark eyes are filled with light, a sparkle that looks like hope and no sign of any sort of darkness that Kylo’s soul is supposed to be filled with. Hux swallows hard but regardless, as soon as Kylo has opened the door to his cell, Hux’s arms are around his neck in the strongest hug he’s ever given. Having his lover come to his rescue is almost enough to send Hux into tears but he holds them back, burying his face in Kylo’s shoulder.

Only when Hux’s mind has quietened does he realise that Kylo has remained abnormally still.

“Ren?” Hux whispers, frowning. “Why won’t you hold me?”

As Hux’s wishes, Kylo’s hands find themselves on his waist and, for a moment, the galaxy is right.

But even the burn of a sun’s supernova wouldn’t be as painful as feeling Kylo’s hands push him away. Hux stumbles back with a startled gasp, eyes wide with fear.

“Ren?” Hux doesn’t understand. The man in front of him looks like his Kylo but everything about his movements and expressions is screaming at Hux to back away from him.

The imposter flexes his fingers, and Hux can’t help but glance to the lightsaber hanging from his belt and then to the blaster in the holster on his opposite hip.

Kylo despises blasters.

“That’s not my name,” Kylo says, and Hux feels his stomach drop. “My name is Ben. Solo.”

“No,” Hux gasps, shaking his head. “Your name is Kylo Ren. Master of the Knights of Ren and heir to the Dark Side. Ben Solo is dead. You told me so yourself!”

Hux recalls the countless times that Kylo has recited stories from his childhood to him, telling him tales of a young boy called Ben who felt unloved and lost, a boy who was sacrificed in order for Kylo Ren to be born.

Hux shivers, feeling as though he’s staring down a ghost.

“The Resistance has bartered with your captors for your release, General,” Ben says, pulling a pair of thick binders off his belt. “And I’m here to arrest you.”

Hux opens his mouth to speak but a broken heave for air comes out instead, and he wonders whether the sound is his soul shattering into a thousand shards, piercing his heart, threatening to render him to his knees and beg for someone to wake him from this nightmare.

“It’d be best if you remained calm, Starkiller,” Ben sneers, spitting out the nickname that he’d whispered to Hux whilst kissing over his freckles, comparing them to stardust. “The Resistance are going to make you answer for your crimes against the galaxy. And snakes like you don’t deserve mercy.”

Ren, for stars sake! Snap out of it!” Hux cries, backhanding Ben across the face, whipping some hairs out of his bun. He hangs his head, hair obscuring his eyes. “They’ve done something to you! Manipulated you! It’s me, it’s your ‘Tidge, don’t do this. Please.”

Ben brings his communicator up to his lips, face still hidden to Hux’s eyes.

“This is Captain Solo. The prisoner is refusing to cooperate. I’m in need of back-up. Bring extra binders,” he says, and Hux flinches.

Yes, Captain. We’re on our way,” comes the static-y reply before Ben drops the comlink to the ground and stands up.

Hux’s breath is suddenly ripped away from him, an invisible hand curling around his throat as he’s pushed back to the wall, back hitting it with force to the point where he feels winded. Gasping, eyes wide, Hux clutches at his throat, terror swelling in every nerve when he looks up and sees the man he would give his final breath for attempting to steal it from him. Ben’s hand is outstretched, lip curled in a scowl, and Hux believes that his once-beautiful knight is going to kill him.

“K-Kylo…” Hux whispers, voice breaking, eyes slowly closing. “M-my moon and my s-stars.”

Ben falters for a moment, gasping as though in pain as he drops Hux from his Force-hold, and Hux can’t find the strength in his legs to hold himself up so collapses to the ground in a weakened heap, breathing ragged and broken. Tears stream down his cheeks, from the lack of air or from being completely heartbroken, Hux isn’t sure.

Either way, he doesn’t expect to look up and see Ben on his knees in front of him, eyes wide, dark and lost.

Ben cocks his head to the side as though a confused animal, eyebrows drawn together in a saddened frown, and Hux loses the remainder of his strength.

He lurches forwards, taking Ben’s plush lips up in a fervent and longing kiss, fill with desperation, a silent and absolute plea for Hux’s Ren to come back home.

“It’s me,” Hux whispers. “Ren. Wake up. This isn’t you.

Ben blinks hard, shaking his head, mouth falling open as though to finally say something

“Captain Solo!”

Hux flinches back when Ben stands up so abruptly, turning to face the gaggle of Resistance fighters who stand in the doorway, blasters trained on Hux.

“Cuff him,” one of the men says. “Get him back on the ship and lock him in the brig. Scum.”

Hux stares up at Ben, wanting to whisper his name but finds that it won’t come; he doesn’t believe Ben is the name of the man in front of him. They’d kissed—and Ben had kissed him back.

He doesn’t take note of the binders being snapped around his wrists, he doesn’t growl when he’s hauled to his feet, but he whimpers when he’s dragged past Ben and out of his cell, looking back over his shoulder at the lost boy standing alone.

Ben Solo is dead,’ Hux thinks, closing his eyes in some sort of relief. ‘Kylo Ren is alive. He’s alive.’

As he watches the Starkiller be dragged away, Ben reaches up and touches his lips, feeling as though a spark is nestled upon them, sending shivers down his spine, recalling how the General’s kiss had made him feel.

It felt familiar, it felt warm.

And it felt like home, like rushing in to your lover’s arms after a long time away, like falling into bed and sleeping next to each other, like existing with someone inside a bubble and not caring what the rest of the galaxy is doing because this is home.

But Ben pushes his hand against his throbbing temple. This couldn’t be: this is the first time he’s even met General Armitage Hux. That’s what his mother and uncle have told him.

And his family wouldn’t lie….would they?

Divided: Part 20

Pairings: Bucky x Reader, Steve x Reader

Warnings: Angst

Word Count: 1832

Summary: Your journey with T’Challa takes an unexpected turn as he causes you to question things about your relationship and yourself. 

Authors Note:  I am still technically on hiatus for one more week until my sister’s wedding is over, but I had a bit of time today and figured that you guys might enjoy this. Plus I’ve been feeling like shit and could use a small confidence boost before the wedding. <3  I always love hearing from you all, so drop a line with thoughts or predictions!  Tagging is open, just ask, if you are on my tag list and your username has changed PLEASE let me know!

Divided: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19

“You’re never going to find him.” You snarl, your arms crossed against the thick leather belt that held you against the chair. “Do you ever stop talking?” T’Challa rolls his eyes in front of you, his fingers flexing in annoyance as they curl tighter around the steering stick.

“Nope.” You pop your lips, the sound making him wince slightly, “Better get used to it T.C. You’re the one that pulled me from my team and dragged me on your wild goose chase. You can let me off anytime…” You taunt, narrowing your eyes in annoyance.

He refuses to acknowledge you, his gaze darting briefly to the radar as he flies slightly to the left, correcting his course. “Come on T.C. we’ve been screwing around in the air for hours now. I know for a fact it does not take this long to get to Wakanda.”

He smiles slightly, biting his lip as you suddenly start with surprise. “We’re… we’re not going to Wakanda… are we?” You ask in confusion, your brow furrowing slightly at him, his silence causing your heart to beat faster, each thump echoing in your ears.

“Then where… where are we going?” You feverishly glance around through the windows of the cockpit, trying to get your bearings but all you see is black as the rain whips along the outside.

T’Challa smiles slightly, as if he knows something you don’t, “I don’t know yet.” T’Challa speaks slowly, his patience waning as he stares at the radar screen. Suddenly a large area of the radar becomes illuminated as you hear a deafening rumble from below.

“What is that?” You search wildly for answers as you try to look out through the darkened windows of the small jet, but you are unable to see anything but the black sea. T’Challa reacts quickly, causing the plane to tumble sharply to the right, turning at a tight angle to skirt along the sea, shaking with turbulence under the full force of the storm.

“What are you doing!?” You yell, gripping onto the leather straps as T’Challa lets out a slightly exhilarated laugh. “Finding out where we are going… wasn’t that your request?” He chuckles, explaining himself as if none of his flying technique was out of the ordinary.

You glance forward to see a large fortress rise from the ocean, as if it were a fabled sea monster rising beneath the surface, it’s iron jaws springing open to release a small helicopter before closing quickly as it descends back to its home in the depths of the black water.

T’Challa raises the jet slightly, elevating up to the clouds, quickly chasing the small helicopter. “Stark.” You breathe, reading the name emblazoned on the side of the chopper, “We’re following Stark?” You question as T’challa sinks the jet into the clouds, his eyes carefully watching the helicopter above.

“Oh come on… you could at least fucking answer me.” You huff, crossing your arms across your chest once more, your annoyance peaking at being ignored. There is a small flash of light in the distance below the chopper, a slight bit of movement ruffling over the roof of the jet, though nothing appears on the radar.

T’Challa moves quickly, tilting the jet directly upwards as he rolls into position, turning to follow the small streak in the air. “Stark… He knows something… He knows where we are going.” T’Challa affirms, finally providing you with some answers, however cryptic they were.

You sit there staring straight ahead in bewilderment as T’Challa flicks the controls, setting the plane to increase in speed as you follow the air current of Stark’s suit, keeping a safe distance.

“Why won’t you just listen to reason T’Challa. You are King now, your people rely on you, to lead them, to take care of them. But instead you gallivant off in chase of false vengeance?” You spit forward at the would be king, hoping to talk some sense into him.

“How much you think you know, but how little you understand, young arachnid. My father will not know rest until his murderer faces justice, it is my duty to see it done.” T’Challa speaks firmly, his tone biting as you recoil slightly at the sharpness of his tone.

You take a deep breath, your attitude returning in full force as you find your voice once again, never being one to lose it for long. “First off, how many times do I have to tell you? Bucky did not kill your father, it was this crazy guy who impersonated the psychiatrist, he has a plan to awaken these deadly assassins in…” You stop yourself before giving away the location, not wanting to aid T’Challa in his quest.

“He didn’t do it T’Challa, you’ll see I’m right in the end.” You finish, your voice losing its hostile tone, as you implore him to hear you. “And the second thing?” T’Challa asks quietly, requesting the latter part of your argument.

“The name is scorpion, not arachnid.” You speak firmly, declaring your title for his use. He nods, smiling slightly at your defiant tone.

“Ah, yes, the scorpion. Known for its stinger, dulling out critical hits from a small puncture wound.” He speaks softly, chuckling slightly to himself, “Tell me scorpion, is that the only reason for your title? Your exceptional ability with knives?” He raises an eyebrow.

You don’t respond, not knowing where he is going with the question, confused at T’Challa’s sudden desire to talk to you. “No.” He answers softly, responding to his own question, “I believe not. It is not just your deadly skill… it is your nature… to defend yourself; to attack.” He speaks slowly, his words swirling in your head as something tenses inside your chest.

You bite your lip, your eyes stinging slightly as tears prick at the back of them. Your fist curl into defensive balls as your shoulders roll back into a broad position. You couldn’t quite explain why T’Challa’s words were causing such a visceral reaction in you, or why his simple statement caused your stomach to twist into knots, but the dark truth of his words caused every hair on your body to stand on edge.

“I spoke once before about the story of the scorpion and the turtle. In my culture, we tell this to growing children when they reach the age where they begin to find themselves.” He takes a deep breath as you watch him, your shoulders tense, awaiting his lecture.

“One day a scorpion needed to cross a river, so it implores a turtle to please carry it across the river. At first, the turtle hesitates, unsure of whether or not to trust the scorpion, fearing that it might be stung.” He begins, you roll your eyes as he lectures you.

“The scorpion argues with the turtle, reasoning that if it was to sting him, then they would both drown… The turtle considers this, realizing the logic of the scorpion’s argument and agrees to carry the young scorpion across.” T’Challa speaks slowly, wanting every word to resonate with you.

“And let me guess,” you snarl, your anger flaring forcefully in your chest, “The scorpion stung the stupid turtle anyway.”

“Yes.” T’Challa said simply, “The scorpion stung the turtle, dooming them both. And when the turtle asked the scorpion why, do you know what it said?” You stay silent, knowing him well enough to predict that he was about to answer his own question.

“The Scorpion replies that it was in its nature to do so.” T’Challa falls silent, waiting to see the effect that the story had on you.

“So what? You’re saying that I am self-destructive? You’re not the first one to notice that T.C.” You snarl, your defenses rising again. “Besides the turtle should have been looking out for himself, you expect me to believe that his shell failed to shield him? Or that he was actually dumb enough to believe the scorpion?”

“You miss the point young one.” He interrupts you, recognizing the defensive tone in your voice, “The scorpion does not sting the turtle for self-destruction. The scorpion is fundamentally vicious… vicious in its nature… it will not change.” T’Challa finishes, falling silent once again, leaving you to think.

“So is it about me? Are you saying I’m vicious?” Your hostility rises as his insults sting inside of you, touching on nerves of truth that you subconsciously kept controlled.

“I’m not saying anything, Y/N. It’s just a story…” He smirks to himself as you sit behind him in silence. His words reverberating in your head.

Who was he talking about? What was he talking about? What all does he know? Your heart pounds quickly as your mind races, is he referring to what I did to Steve… how I hurt him, how I stung him? So if I am the scorpion… Then is Steve the turtle… Or is Bucky now the turtle? Your eyes squeeze shut, your head aching slightly with your swirling thoughts.

Is Bucky the scorpion? It would not be far off that T’Challa thinks him vicious…Why insist on telling me this story if there is no point to it? You glance through the window, noticing the terrain had changed in the time you had gotten lost in your swirling thoughts. The area outside had become mountainous, snow coating the ground and peaks of the rising crests.

“Where… where are we?” You ask, getting nervous at the sight of your new location. T’Challa does not answer you, remaining silent as he fiddles with the controls at his fingertips, his eyes never moving from the wind shield.

“T’Challa,” you speak more firmly, demanding him to answer you, “We are passing over western Russia at the moment.” He says quietly, paying careful attention to your quickening breath at his words.

He knows. He knows Bucky is in Siberia. “T’Challa,” You start slowly, knowing your hand had already been played for you. Your only hope now is to reason with him on your lover’s behalf.

“I am done listening to your arguments Y/N. I have heard your words and have weighed them against my evidence. They have been found wanting.” T’Challa speaks quickly, his tone calm, but assertive. “I will do you the service of taking him captive. Thus leaving him alive, and able to stand trial. This is all I will guarantee you.”

You sit silently, thinking through T’Challa’s offer, knowing at the least it was a guarantee of Bucky, remaining alive… T’Challa would give him a trial, he would see once and for all that Bucky was innocent, you were willing to take those odds.

You smile slightly, now understanding Natasha’s promise that she was doing you a favor. At the very least you had the guarantee of Bucky’s survival… Your stomach clenches as you suddenly realize how faint of a guarantee that was, knowing full well what Steve and Bucky had headed towards, hoping that Tony, T’Challa and yourself would be enough to help them.

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DIY Maid Harness/Belt

Some lovely people have asked how I made my apron-styled harness for my Halloween outfit, so here it is!

Materials and equipment you will need:

  • Measuring tape
  • Pleather - 0.5 x 1.0 metres/yards should be plenty
  • Craft foam - I used 1mm thick foam but you can use thicker foam for a chunkier look
  • Buckles x 3
  • Paper fasteners, or actual rivets x 4
  • Hot glue gun
  • Scissors - fabric and craft
  • Needle and thread or sewing machine

In this I’ll be using craft foam with fleece-backed pleather to create the look of a thick leather belt. You can use actual belt weight leather strips instead for a more authentic look. Also, the back bow of my harness is a detachable bow from a handbag, but you can make some extra straps and assemble a bow from them yourself.   

Keep reading

Search the Galaxy ch. 5

When you had gotten back to your home planet Ekon had been waiting for you. Whipping away the tears that stained your face you stood tall and made your way off the ship. Standing there was most of your pack and Ekon’s. As soon as the bastard saw no male with you he gave a cunning smile and crossed his arms over his barreled chest. You felt his eyes on you as you hugged your cousin and aunt. Trying to avoid his gaze you focused on reuniting with your friends and family. They all gave you looks of pity, your cousin, Jacar even whispering words of sorrow in your ear. Before long the alpha male had had enough and came over to place his hand on your shoulder. Standing there you refused to look at him and felt him squeeze your shoulder tighter. Without a word he moved his hand to grip your wrist and pulled you along with him into your chambers. 

Hearing the door shut behind you, you tried to hold back the tears that were blurring your vision. You stood there in the middle of the room and felt his eyes on your back. Circling you, you noticed he was looking you up and down, for what you did not know. When he stopped in front of you you tried to focus on his boots.

“You will learn I am a man of tradition. I believe the ways of our past are still to be practiced today… With that you will no longer wear pants, women are to wear dresses. You will have no under garments and your hair will be kept pulled back when you are out of this room. When is your next heat?” his deep voice rang.

Glancing up at him you saw his face to be hard. He truly was the most intimidating person you had ever come across. His frame wide with lean muscles. He had a long brown goatee and long hair that he kept pulled back. His face thin with sharp features. He was around ten years older than you and with that had seen many fights, scars covered his body along with the tattoos he had gotten from wining them. He wore no shirt only a pair of animal skin pants and brown boots. When you heard a small growl rumble in his chest you snapped out of your thoughts, “two weeks, but I am on heat suppressants.” you answered in a soft whisper.

“Mmm. You will no longer be taking them,  I will not mate you until then.” Ekon said. When he noticed y/n’s face contorted into one of confusion he moved closer to her. “Consider it time to get to know each other, You may even learn to love me by then.”

Snapping your eyes to his you couldn’t help but give a small growl, “You think I could love you in just two weeks?”

Hearing y/n’s growl Ekon tensed and glared down at her, “How long did it take you to fall in love with him?… Yes I know you found him but he didn’t love you back did he? Didn’t want you.” He mocked.

Your heart clenched at the thought of Yondu and you began to shake with both anger and sadness, “I will NEVER love you!” As soon as the words were out of your mouth a sharp pain was felt on the side of your face and you fell to the floor with a yelp. Tears spilled from your eyes as you held your hand over where Ekon had hit you. Looking up at him you saw he was fuming, his chest puffing up and down. 

“I don’t need you to love me, in the end I will get your lands, your solders and in two weeks I will pin you beneath me and you will be mine, regardless of your feelings.” He said going to walk away.

Not wanting to back down from the alpha male you gave a chuckle. “And when you do I will think of him.” you said in a croak. As soon as he stopped walking you knew your mistake. 

Letting out a deep breath Ekon shook his head. “You will learn to respect me, even if I have to beat it into you.” He growled.

Watching him, you saw as he ripped his belt from his pants loops with a snap. Folding the thick leather belt over once he turned around and before you could stand he was hitting you with the belt. You screamed out in pain as the leather smacked your back, legs and ass. Holding your hands over your head, you curled up on the floor as he continued to lash you. When you were close to passing out from pain he stopped and keeled down beside your sobbing form. Grabbing your chin tightly in his hand you whimpered as he made you look at him. 

“What was his name?” Ekon asked, as he glared down at her tear soaked face. 

Refusing to answer you heard him give another growl. Seeing him raise his fist up you closed your eyes and next thing you knew everything went black.


Boarding Quill’s ship Yondu made his way into the room with the rest of the guardians. “What did you hear? Where is she?” He asked straight away as soon as he entered the main room. When he looked over he saw a different man leaning against the wall beside Gamora. “Whos this?” he asked looking to Quill for answers. 

“This him?” Jacar asked Gamora making her nod. Walking over to stand in front of the blue alpha Jacar stood tall and tightened his jaw. “Yondu?" 

"Whos askin’?” Yondu growled looking the younger alpha over.

“I’m Jacar… y/n’s cousin.” Jacar growled before punching the man in the jaw.

“Whoa whoa…” Quill yelled going to stand between the two.

Stumbling backwards a bit Yondu brought his hand up to his mouth to feel blood and growled at the man. Giving a whistle his arrow flew from his side and aimed at the man’s head. “Ya mus be stupid boy!” Yondu growled as he glared over Quill’s shoulder.

“Let’s all just calm down. Yondu this is Jacar, y/n’s cousin. He found us when we were asking around for her on Contraxia.” Quill said as he looked to his father figure. Seeing his eyes glowing red Quill placed his hands on Yondu’s shoulders. “He has some information about her that I think you would like to know.”

Giving a low growl Yondu glared at the male before giving another whistle and calling back his arrow. “Tell me?”

Yondu and the others listened as Jacar told them about the deal between his and y/n’s clan and another’s. He told them how the watch told her how much time she had left to find her mate before she had to go back and marry Ekon. He told them how Ekon was a cruel man and how ever since y/n had gotten back no one had been allowed to see her.

“…He keeps her locked up in that room. We can hear her screaming and crying. When I tried to force my way in there he threatened to kill my wife and unborn pup. He is beating her, I know he hasn’t claimed her yet…” Jacar said as he rubbed his hands over his face.

“How do you know?” Yondu asked, his fin and eyes both glowing a bright red.

“Heard him boasting about how he was waiting until she comes into heat to ‘fuck her bloody’.” Jacar said with a shake of his head. “She’s like my sister. I couldn’t just stay there and let him continue to beat her and wait until the day he rapes her. So I came looking for you, I wanted to know why you turned her away… why you turned your mate away." 

Letting out a sigh Yondu looked down at his feet before looking back up, "I’s made a mistake. One I will hate mysef’ fur fur the rest of my life.” he said and saw as Jacar nodded. “Will ya take me ta er’?” he asked.

Jacar took a deep breath as he looked to the others. “It won’t be easy to get to her. Ever since she got back he has move his clan into our lands. The women won’t be a problem for you they are just scared of their males. As far as the men go they are vicious. Y/n’s chambers are heavily guarded at all time by his men. No one is allowed in or out without Ekon’s say so.”

“Then I’ll go in alone…” Yondu went to say but was interrupted by Quill.

“No way. You heard what he said you blue idiot if they catch you you’re dead.” Quill said looking to Yondu like he had grown another head.

“He won’t be alone. I can get you to her room and try to get the guards to chase after me.” Jacar said.

With a firm nod from Yondu and the others they made their way to Gliese.


You sat on the floor beside the small table in your room as Ekon ate his meal. Feeling the blood drip from your lip from where Ekon was just 'teching you’ how to properly serve your alpha male. While pouring his alcohol your hands had been shaky from the lack of food making you spill the wine on his lap. He had brought the back of his hand across your face, throwing you to the floor. After yelling at you to clean up the mess you had made he pulled on the collar he had put on your neck and made you sit on the floor by his feet. Dropping a small plate of food beside you he glared down at you making your eyes shoot down.

“When you learn how to serve me correctly you may eat at the table with me.” He said in a harsh tone before going back to eating his meal.

Lifting the small roll to your mouth, you nibbled on it and slowly trailed your eyes up to look out the window. Feeling tears roll down you cheeks you stared at the stars and tried to imagine you were back with Yondu. That the two of you were siting on the floor in the hanger of his ship eating super. Your lip trembled as you smiled at the memories of the stories he would tell you. You prayed for his happiness and safety. Hoping that he would at least remember you on his adventures. That he wouldn’t forget you.

Originally posted by lematworks

Two Years

Two years.

Two years until he’d been rushed into a Normandy escape pod and blasted into space.

Two years since he’d watched that glorious ship explode into pieces across the starry sky, that leviathan of a ship beyond that had taken her down slowly turning and leaving the way it had come.

Two years since he’d received notice in that little hospital that there were only few casualties with the loss of the Normandy. As he flipped through the roster, one name making him pause and stare at the screen, wishing he wasn’t reading it properly.

Harley Lynn Shepard, right there next to the photo taken when she’d joined with the Normandy. Her hair a bit longer, but still curly. Eyes sharp and the little smirk slipping free at the corner of her mouth. KIA and MIA were in bold red text near the bottom of the screen.

He remembered how he’d slumped in that little cot, leaning his head down over the small tablet, his long fingers gripping it so hard that small cracks began to appear around the edges and the screen began to flicker, her name disappearing and reappearing. The nurse had left the room at that point, but not before placing a box on a nearby table that she murmured was addressed to him, leaving the large turian alone with his thoughts, leaving him to grit his teeth and try to breath as deeply and smoothly as he could, not allowing himself to break down. Not letting himself be taken over by the memories of her laughter, of her guidance, how she handled herself with a gun. How she’d made his heart flutter each time the lift had opened to admit her to the lower decks of the ship, trying his damnedest to not remember the scent of her or how she smiled when she spoke to him, how the flutters had started to grow into love.

It had taken him a few days to be released from the hospital, just long enough to get him rehydrated and fed after spending so long in an escape pod. Once he’d been free to leave, he headed to the apartment he’d kept while he’d worked for C-Sec, trying to find a familiar place that he could be alone with his thoughts.

Once he’d gotten through his front door, he leaned against it, reaching behind him to lock it just before he slid down the door to settle on the floor. The tablet of crew missing and the package the nurse had left clattered to the floor as he did, just enough to make him look over at the box. Swallowing, he pulled it towards him, using a long nail to slice open the tape and pulling it open. The contents made him once again take a deep breath, this time it quavering in his throat, as he reached into the box and slowly started removing items from it.

Shepard’s hat that she wore when she’d been working on the Mako. Photos of her mother and herself, of Harley and the crew, even a few of Garrus himself and her together. He flipped the images over to read her scribbled hand writing, dates and names, pet names for the people in the photo. ‘Target practice with the best’ was written on the back of one with himself in it, where both he and Shepard had been shooting targets in the Spectre shooting range. ‘So cute when he’s sleeping’ was on another, this one taken after a party where Garrus had fallen asleep on the couch in the Normandy’s lounge. Tears started to glisten in his eyes as he delved deeper into that box, pulling out other odds and ends that held the remains of Shepard’s life. Her chain that had a bullet casing from her first time shooting with her mother, that thick Spectre belt buckle that she’d always worn when off duty, along with a jacket with the N7 logo stitched across the chest.

How could an entire life be diluted down to the contents of a box? Garrus had thought, sifting through the items with care, carefully picking up a tablet and pressing play on the vid it had contained. As it played, it looked as if it was being filmed by Liara, who was laughing and teasing, trying to convince Harley to pick up her guitar that she always had somewhere in her cabin. A few minutes of urging had convinced the Commander, and she settled on the couch in her room and began to play, her fingers moving over the strings and her eyes closing as she began to sing softly, too softly for the words to be picked up by the vid. The tune of the guitar let Garrus know what she was singing though, an old Earth song about unrequited love and regrets. Her eyes opened near the end and seemed to look through the vid into his, making the tears start to fall down his face.

He’d kept the vid, along with some photos, near the table beside his bed, the rest of the items he’d stored carefully in his closet. The next day he’d tried to return to C-Sec, to his old job, only to find that they were calling the Reaper attack a hoax. That Saren had been working alone. The new council was negative towards the Normandy crew, especially the commander that had let their predecessors die in the attack on the Citadel. Garrus had worked alongside C-Sec as long as he could before he’d left; heading to Omega to try and do some good without the rules and red tape that he had been drowning in.  

It hadn’t taken him long to get a group of eleven specialists together that had similar thoughts to his, and it had taken even less time for them all to be gunned down by a traitor amongst them. Seemed like nearly seconds after, Garrus was slowly taking out as many mercs as he could, Blue Suns, Blood Pack, and Eclipse, he hadn’t been picky.

Two years.

Damn time flew when you had nothing to lose anymore.

Sighing, Garrus tightened his fingers around the bullet casing around his neck, then slowly got to his feet and looked out over the awning through the scope of his sniper rifle, trying to get a glimpse of where the new wave of mercenaries were coming from. Seeing one poke his head out from behind a bullet riddled column, Garrus squeezed the trigger and blasted a hole between the man’s eyes. “Fish in a barrel,” he muttered as the man slumped to the ground. Swiveling the gun towards the entrance to this death trek, he froze, seeing a new trio leaping over a barricade and pause as they saw the building, almost as if they felt the weight of his gaze through the scope. A solarian on one side, a black man on the other, the center being dominated by a woman in blue armor. Her curling hair was cut close to her head, her head protected only by bits of metal and an LED screen that would help her find the perfect headshot. Garrus felt his heart clench at the sight of her, waves of suppressed memories and emotions of two years and more flooding back to him.

“Shepard?” he whispered.

Mukuro, Hibari and Byakuran acting Protective of their s/o


    “Pardon the intrusion ma'am, but may I have a quick word with you?” Your teeth pinched your lower lip in an attempt to prevent a groan from leaving your mouth. You had been assigned to go undercover as a teacher at an all male privet school. Something about the headmaster organizing a heist to take the large shipment of guns’ that the Vongola was able to obtain before they were shipped out to local small-time gangs.
   "Yes, what can I do for you, Professor?“ You took a page from Murkuro and allowed charming, but hollow, tight-lipped smile stretch across your face. You stood from the chair behind the desk and turned to the Professor in the doorway. It took everything not to cringe at the smell that wafted off of the man. Had no one told him about deodorant, or better yet the magical thing called a shower?
  “Well, you see myself and a few of the other teachers have some concerns.” He cleared his throat before continuing. “You see,” you felt your face twitch as he stepped into the classroom and shut the door behind him, “multiple of us believe that some of your choices of attire might not be the best and most professional choice.” That made you pause in your internal complaints.
   Glancing down at your deep purple long sleeved bodycon style dress. A white and purple scarf was draped across your shoulders, your black heels sat innocently underneath the large oak desk. Pearl bracelet and earrings where your choice of jewelry this morning. “And pray tell is wrong with my choice of work clothes?” You glanced back up at the man only to cringe seeing that he had gotten closer to you while you were assessing your clothes of choice.
   "Well, you see,“ your eye twitched at the repeated phrase, "as you know we are an elite all-male privet school.” He cleared his throat out. “With the boys here are at a certain age where they start to notice the opposite….,” Your inner monolog drowned the rest of his yammering out. This guy had to be bullshitting you, there was no way he was going to pull this kind of crap on you. “and thusly we would like you to start wearing less revealing clothing so you do not distract the boys from their studies.” He was.
   "Kufufu…“ Before you could open your mouth to lay it into the sexist skin hating ass, a laugh flooded the large lecture room. "That was quite an unwise thing to say, for a man such as yourself.” You both watched as the familiar pineapple haired man melts from the shadows of a corner.
   You watched in exasperation as the color from the professor’s chubby face drained into a pastel white. Beady eyes rolled to the back, and his heavy-set body hit the tiled floors with a heavy thud. You shot a look at the illusionist. “That was unnecessary, I could have handled the pig myself.”
    Murkuro gave his signature laughter before taking your hand in his and placed a feathered kiss on the back of it. “I have no doubt that your sharp tongue and harsh words could have done just that. But I could not help myself, the thought of others staring at what is mine with such dirty thoughts fills me with rage that is beyond control.”
    “I am not some property to own you ass.” You grumbled and jerked your hand back to your side. Despite wanting to seem made you could feel your cheeks turning red. Twisting away from the man before you in hope he would not see your embarrassment, even though you know it was no use he saw everything it seemed. “Let’s just get out of here already.” You fled the room before he could say anything.
   "Kufufuf…. of corse.“ His long stride made it easy to catch up with you. You felt his long arm snake its way around your waist before pulling you close to his side.


    A deep sigh passed through your slightly chapped lips. You were stuck at home today, as per Hibari’s demands. You had gotten a minor concussion the last mission that you had gone on, and despite being cleared for work, the ex-chairman had forced you to take the day off. The thing about being stuck at home that you shared with Hibari it always ended up being too quiet for your tastes. Even when Hibari was home the large home was quiet seeing as Hibari was not one to fill the silence with mindless chit-chat and in the end neither were you. But that quiet was different than this one, this one filled your being with a strange sense of unease.
   Your eyes panned the room in despite need to find something to do. You pause as you spot your thin black phone that sat on the dark chabudai in the middle of the open living room. Your eyebrows raised in thought and glanced down at your attire. You had decided to be lazy today and chose to wear nothing but one of Hibari’s button down white shirts over a pair of one of your most expensive lingerie sets that you own. You never really wore any of them as much as you used to. You had stopped since you moved in with Hibari. Seeing as he had a habit of ripping the fragile fabric when he became impatient. You had learned your lesson when you had decided to wear a one of a kind limited edition set on one of the few dates that he had taken you on.
   A sly smile crept onto your lips. If he thinks that you would spend a dull day at home while he got to go out and have fun with no complaints, he had another thing coming.
   A deep scowl was permanent on the skylarks face today. So was a migraine that pounded behind his eyes, and the one that sat on the couch across from him. Today seemed to tick on forever for him, normally it would be someone else that sat across from him, someone more desirable. Instead, he has had to deal with the blond herbivore ever since he stepped through the entrance of the underground safe house. If you had been here with him, the blond herbivore would have left the moment you had opened your mouth. He never understood why the Chiavarone boss listened to you instead of him. His deep frown got deeper at the thought of depending on you. Suddenly the sound of vibration on solid wood broke through his musing.
   Not giving a damn if it was rude he reached for his thing flip phone that sat on the coffee table between the two black leather couches. Looking at the small screen on the front of the phone ‘1 new text message from Bambina’ it read. The corner of his mouth twitches up for a fraction of a second at the name you had placed your number under. You had been a bit upset when you had learned that he had put your name as week herbivore instead of your real name or a cute pet name. So you had stolen his cell phone just to change your name, it had been about half a week before he had gotten it back from you.
   Shaking his head off his drifting thoughts he opened the mobile device with a sharp flick of his wrist and opened the text. What he saw had caused his mind to go blank for a moment. There you sat staring up at the camera with wide eyes and a slight pout on your painted lips one of his old buttons down shirts was completely unbuttoned and shrugged down low so it showed off your shoulders. It wasn’t odd to see you in his clothes you stole his shirts and sweatpants on a daily basis. What caused him to pause was what you wore underneath.
  A sharp whistle broke his trance. "Hibari you are one lucky man. Is that a bustier and garter?” Sharp eyes snapped to the man that now leaned on the couch behind him looking over his shoulder and at the picture of you on his phone. His teeth ground togeather in irritation how dare this pathetic herbivore think he could look at a privet picture of you and think he can get away with it.
   Before Dino even realized what had happened he was on the floor with some of the most painful injuries he had ever felt that were inflicted by the younger man. “Tell Sawada that I am leaving, and if he ever sends you to my office again he will be retrieving you back in a body bag.” The tall man rumbled out and walked swiftly out the door before he could be stopped. He had something that needed to be done.


   You adjusted the large floppy sun hat to sit more firmly on the top of your head. It was one of the warmer days in Dublin surprisingly seeing as it almost fell. But you weren’t complaining, this gave you a chance to window shopping one last time before it became too cold for you. It was also a nice time to finally wear a new outfit that you bought last week. It was one of your more flowy pieces, with a long dark blue skirt that had a thick leather belt that wrapped tightly around your midsection. It was light and with each step, you took you felt the soft see through material that made the outer layer brush against your bare ankles. It made you feel like twirling in circles just to watch the fabric fan out around you. The shirt you decided to pair it up with was a cream colored tank top. You had accessorized with wedges with blue straps, a brown leather bag, and a wooden necklace.
   You hummed happily, feeling confident with your choice of clothing. It was going to be a good day today. Just as that thought passed through your mind you suddenly felt a large calloused hand snatch one of your swinging arms and jerk you back into an alleyway you were passing.
   "Ah!“ You squeaked out when one of your ankles twisted at a weird angle because of the sudden side motion. You stumbled back into the rough brick wall of one of the buildings, scraping your bare arm. Looking up at the culprit that rudely jerked you out of your happy thoughts. "What the heck was that for?” You demanded the man that was still gripping your arm in a death grip.        He was a tall man in his late twenties if you had to guess, dark messy hair. five o'clock shadow, and bright blue eyes. A heartthrob if you had met him in a more polite fashion but no.
   "I’m sorry for the rude and hasty introduction but there is no time for a proper greeting.“ A light Russian accent colored his hastily spoken words. "My name is Isaac and you must follow me and do exactly as I say okay?” He asked as he started to drag you down further into the alleyway towards where a dark car with tinted windows was parked.
   "NO! Not okay! What the hell is this? Get off me!“ You shouted and tugged at your arm in an attempt to shake his grip off, but his grip held strong.
   "I’m sorry Ma'am but like I said there is no time to explain, all you need to know is that you are in great danger and I am here to help you.” He explained without looking back at you.
   "Here to help me?! It’s more like your the one that’s the danger to me! HELP!“ You screamed as you reached down with your other hand to grasp his middle finger and pulled it back as far as you could. This was the wrong way to use this move but you couldn’t remember how they had shown you how to get out of a death grip from the front, and you had to do something. Though your attempt to get free was not successful. "SOMEONE HELP! RAPE! KIDNAP!” You shouted at the tops of your lungs.
   "Oh…What do we have here?“ A calm deep voice sounded from behind you. At the sound of another person caused a deep rush of relief passes through you. You weren’t going to be taken away by this weird and rude man. Speaking of the man he had frozen mid-stride, the abrupt stop had caused you to bump into his broad back. He slowly turned his head to look behind you. His once tan features were now a sickly white, his bright blue irises were now a barely visible rim surrounding his blown pupils. A thin layer of sweat had gathered on his forehead where a vein now bulged out in fear.
   You too turned your head to look behind you. Standing there in an all white Italian cut suit was your savior. He was tall, and a shockingly head of white hair despite his young age. His eyes were a beautiful shade of violet that matched his button up shirt and tie. He looked like an angel except for the wide fox-like a smile that was painted his lips, and the strange glint that shown in his eyes.
   "Why Issac, if I hadn’t known any better I would say you were trying to steal my sweet flower away from me.” The angelic man purred. His voice was light and airy but had a threatening undertone to it. His head cocked to the side his eyes squinted shut, giving a fighting smile. “That is against the rules you know. No one is to touch my flower except for me. And you know very well what happens to people who break the rules.” His lavender eyes cracked open, the fox-grin still persistent as the day.
   "I’m sorry Byakuran-sama.“ The Japanese title sounded weird mixed with a Russian accent to you. But you were too freaked out to ponder the odd combination. You had no idea what was going on. Angel man had called you his flower, and yet you have never met him before this day. And despite your inability to remember a face, you could never forget meeting someone with that hair and eye color combination.
  "Byakuran, we have to get going it’s almost time.” Suddenly another voice spoke from behind the white haired man.
   "Oh, is it that time already?“ Byakuran gave a giggle, which was odd to hear from a grown man. "Why don’t you take my flower to the car while I deal with Issac here, Sho-chan.” As told a redheaded man with glasses stepped out from behind Byakuran. He smoothly walked forward and grabbed you by the arm leading you to the car to the end of the ally.
   You were too shocked on what had conspired to make any objections about being dragged off by a stranger once again. All you had known that today you had met the devil who had gone by the name of Byakuran. That day you had met the man that says that he has known you for your whole life while you knew not of him. Each time you think back to the encounter and his explanations your head started to pound in confusion. But in the end, you had met the man that you love, so you couldn’t really complain much.

Why is proto-Lucio literally a Lucario gijinka…
Note the dreads, shoulder strap, neat decorated glove, spike design on the contrasting tank top, thick black belt with zigzag, silly blue shorts, nonsensical legs…

Never mind the fact Lucios name is Lucario without the -ar- …
Lucario can learn Healing Pulse and Extreme Speed….
His hidden ability is ‘Justified’ which goes by ‘Heart of Justice’ in Japan which also seems appropriate…

I want answers.

kareverie  asked:

omg..."you'll get my cock when you earn it" with Hoseok, please? Thank you~!! You're the best!! :')

03. “You’ll get my cock when you earn it.” This got seriously filthy.

The harsh bite of kitchen tiles pressed uncomfortably onto your knees, the skin now a blotchy red from so many drawn out minutes in the same spot, staring up into blown pupils and cloudy irises.

You were a mess, hands secured together behind your back with the thickness of his leather belt, wrists overlapping one another. You watched with a hungry gaze as he stroked himself, hand pumping his cock leisurely in front of your face, tempting you. 

But you weren’t allowed to touch. His rule, not yours.

Hoseok liked to punish you, loved to carry out your torture until there were tears in your eyes as you begged him for anything at all. You couldn’t even remember what you’d done wrong in the first place, only that he was denying you from tasting him like you so desperately needed to.

Your mouth watered at the sight, his cock long and thick, vein running up the underside to wrap around, swollen red and ready for your mouth. You let out a pathetic whimper, scooting closer to him on your knees.

“Fuck, let me taste you baby. Come on.”

Hoseok loved how completely gone you became under his movements, eyes glazed over with lust, lips swollen and wet and begging for him, just how he preferred.

“You’ll get my cock when you earn it.” 

He smirked, ran his thumb over the tip of his dick and held back a breathy moan that threatened to spill. He fucked into is hand, hips shallowly thrusting into the tight grip of his palm. All it would take is you leaning in a couple inches, and then he’d be in your mouth, but you knew you’d get nothing if you carried out that plan.

No, you were stuck and completely at his mercy.

Hoseok looked down at you, your body adorning one of his shirts, nothing underneath, hair fanning around your face and muscles tense. You looked completely fuckable, and soon his hips were stilling and he was furiously stroking his cock before you, no intentions of letting you touch him from the beginning.

“Hobi, please.”

He slapped your cheek with the head of his cock, groaning at the way your lips immediately parted for him invitingly, and the fall of your face as you were denied of him once again.


You pouted at him, eyes intently watching the hand swiftly move over his member in quick drawn out strokes, wrist twisting after each one delivered as he teased the swollen tip. You whined, pleaded, but he was relentless in making you suffer and reaching his own end.


It only took half a dozen more pumps to his cock and an equal amount of his name rolling off your tongue for him to find his high, a guttural groan echoing throughout the kitchen as he painted your cheeks, nose, chin, and even the corner of your lips in white, which you greedily let your tongue lick up almost instantaneously.

You watched him catch his breath, bare chest glistening with sweat and flushed red, jeans still pooled around the top of his thighs and an ever growing smirk lighting up his blissed out face.

“Now, say you’re sorry.”

The Joker Diaries 3 [Joker x Harley]

A series of glimpses into the life of Joker, before and after he met Harley Quinn. Suicide Squad-verse. Warning: Contains explicit descriptions of smut, mentions of dub-con and non-con.
Summary: The clown couple are experiencing emotional difficulties.

3. Zero Below

“There’s a fine line between love and hate.
And I don’t mind.
Just let me say that I like that
I like that.”

“Puddin’.” She lingered in the doorway, trying to find something to say that wouldn’t set off a tantrum or further broaden the divide between them.

He wasn’t looking at her; his gaze was focused on the new, even wider flat screen, where GCN was on. As if she was a mere annoyance that he tolerated enough to let live.

It tore at her heart and she decided to try again. Only wearing her favorite silky night gown, she walked over to the couch and stood silent next to him. He still paid her no mind.

She noticed an abundance of weapons surrounding him: knives were spread on the glass table in front of the couch and he wore his gun holster despite being in the penthouse. She had found at least two of his razors in the bed last night.

The past week Harley had tried to please him whenever she could without success. She was overcome with guilt at her overstep that night, when he had left in the middle of sex. Ever since then he had pushed her away in a way he had rarely done before; he was harsh and unrelenting when she begged him to please her, to let her make up for what she did, but he refused her touch. At night he would push her straight off the bed if she even attempted to snuggle up.

Harley missed his rough touches, his attention, those lingering looks he used to give her, like a lion waiting to pounce when she passed by.

She was determined to gain his trust back. The part of her that Harleen controlled had realized that his night terrors had a reason, even if he couldn’t remember why.

Even if he had pushed every memory into the far recesses of his mind it still stayed and tore at him. She knew she had helped him with that. During the extensive ECT at Arkham, she had shattered his last memories, even the ones he wanted to keep.

Slowly she sunk to her knees in front of him, trying to capture his gaze. “I’m sorry, Puddin’,” she tried again. She carefully placed her hands on his thighs, feeling the expensive black fabric underneath her fingertips. He tensed up, but didn’t move.

Finally he looked at her. She didn’t recognize his gaze; it wasn’t their usual hint of mutual understanding, an inside joke they shared. It wasn’t the way he looked when he lusted for her or even had any sort of reaction to her behavior. She didn’t know that look and it tore right through her heart. His blue eyes were not only cold and distant, but strange.

Suddenly she felt his hands in her hair. His fingers tightened and her heart fluttered. He chuckled quietly, an unsettling laughter that enveloped her in familiarity. Finally.

“What’s the matter, Harls?” He leaned forward, the sarcasm in his voice evident. “Can’t leave me alone for one second?” He pushed her away so violently her scalp burned and let go of her.

She remained sitting on the floor, stubbornly staring at him. “No, I can’t! This ain’t my Puddin’, this is just some sad guy that I don’t even know! Snap out of it!”

He growled and stood up in one fluid motion, but she didn’t back off. “You… really are testing me.”

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Faking It - part 4

Paring: Bucky Barnes x reader

Characters: Bucky Barnes, reader

After getting news about a family reunion coming up, the reader decides to set up aplan to  make her look like she isn’t as single as she actually is. But when all her candidates can’t go, she’s left with the only person who she least expects to go along with the plan.

Word count: 2.7k

A/N: leT ME TELL YOU this was longer than expected, but you guys love this story so much so ya’ll will enjoy it. Smut chapter is next and I’m rolling up my sleeves on it. If you want to be tagged just ask and if I forgot you, (because people are constantly asking to be tagged so I forget a few people) I do apologize

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3


Originally posted by justall-myfeelings

 The light poured in through the open windows. You squinted at the rays and pulled the duvet over your head. Bucky’s arm was wrapped around your waist. He groaned and buried his head in the pillow. His grip tightened on your hips but quickly loosened. You were about to fall asleep once again when your phone rang. An annoyed moan escaped your lips. You turned and reached over Bucky’s torso to grab your phone. 

“Hullo,” Your voice rough. 

“Y/N did I wake you?” Your Mother asked. 

“No,” You lied, “I was just….making breakfast." 

"I see,” You knew that she was smiling. You could practically hear it through the phone. “Tomorrow is the gala. You know the one that your Father’s company hosts each year. I’d like for you to come. It would be your first time.”

The charity gala happens every year. All of your Father’s coworkers and bosses, get together for some drinking, eating and mingling. There is even an auction. Women and men volunteer to be auctioned off as dates and all the money goes to charity. The idea of being auctioned off makes you think of slavery, but other people think differently because the money goes to charity. Nonetheless, the idea puts a bad taste in your mouth. 

“I don’t know,” You said. “I don’t even have a dress.”

“That’s okay! Your sister and I are going dress shopping today.”  You winced, knowing there was no excuse to get out of this one. “We’ll pick you up at around 2 PM, be ready by then, Erika doesn’t like waiting.”

You gave her the address to the house and hung up. Your shoulders slumped and let your phone fall onto the bed before settling back under the sheets.

“Who was that?” Bucky asked.

“My Mother,” You mumbled. “We have to go to a charity gala tomorrow.”

“Dress code?” He questioned.

“Formal of course,” You said. “You’re gonna need a suit.”

You and Bucky have been to enough formal parties, galas, and other occasions to know the routine. Thanks to Tony, who had probably gone to more galas than you can count. Fortunately, back when you were a teen you weren’t able to go because it’s 18+. Now, you’re over the age restriction which means that your Mother is ecstatic to have her whole family there.

“Is your entire family going?” He asked.

“Nope,” You were relieved. Your Aunts never went, mainly because they all have children that were under 15, so there was no one to care for them.

“Are you going out?”

“Yes,” You sighed. “Mother wants to go dress shopping. Call Tony, maybe he can recommend a tailor or tell you where the nearest Men’s Warehouse is.” You patted his chest and pushed yourself off the bed.

“I’ll be back later, Bucky,” You called and adjusted the strap of your small backpack.

He nodded and pecked your lips, knowing that your sister and Mother were watching. “Tony hired this specialist, they’re gonna get me fitted for a suit.”

“Make sure it’s a black tie,” You added as you walked away from the door.

“Y/N, Bucky is good-looking and rich? You hit the jackpot!” Your sister exclaimed when you entered the car.

“This is Mr. Stark’s home. Not Bucky’s,” You snorted at her comment.

The store you went to, was in Hollywood of course. It was a very expensive store and you certainly weren’t rich. Beautiful gowns were lined up on racks along the walls. A clerk approached the three of you.

“Welcome, ladies, how may I help you today?” She asked.

“We’re looking for evening gowns,” Your mother said.

“Event?” The woman asked.

“Gala,” Erika intervened.

“Right this way.” You followed her further into the store until you reached back section where even more dresses were waiting to be picked. You began a search for your own dress. Very lazily, you eyed each dress you touched. In reality, you didn’t know what you were looking for. You didn’t know what color, what design.

“See anything you like?” Erika asked. You shook your head as she took out a dress and motioned for the clerk to put it in her dressing room.

“Would you ladies like some champagne?” A different clerk asked.

You smiled and gladly took a glass from the tray she held. Erika on the other hand refused. She wrinkled her nose, “I absolutely despise that stuff.”

“You’re no fun,” You mumbled as you threw your head back and guzzled down the strong liquid. The next half hour you walked around the store, with your glass in hand and your mind not there. You didn’t want to be here, but here you sadly were.

When it was your mother’s turn to try on her dresses, you and Erika sat down on the provided couch while she got into her first gown. You had lost count of a number of champagne glasses you had consumed, yet you continued to request a refill.

“So Y/N,” Your sister began. “How’s Bucky in bed?”

You nearly spit out your champagne. Instead, you choked on the liquid and coughed violently. “Did Betty put you up to this?” You eyed her.

She shook her head, “Can’t I ask? It’s not like I didn’t tell you the first time David and I had sex.”

“Yes and I am forever grateful for that valuable information,” You said sarcastically. The last time you had sex, was in a one night stand. You certainly weren’t going to tell her that.

Your mother tried on all four of her dresses. After ten minutes of arguing, all three of you came to a conclusion that dress number 2 was the better choice. Your sister was next. She jumped up excitedly and waltzed into the dressing rooms. You leaned back and ran your finger over the rim of the glass.

“Are you okay Y/N?” Your Mom asked.

You were pulled out of your daze and turned to look at her before giving her a sheepish smile, “I’m great.”

“I love it!” Erika exclaimed as she walked out of the dressing room. “Mom look at the sweetheart neckline!” She squealed and ran her hands over her chest.

“It looks good,” Your mother agreed.

“But,” Erika added. “It doesn’t show my curves and the color is too bright.” Without another word, she disappeared back into the dressing room.

Erika tried on a total of 7 dresses. You offered pointers on which ones looked good and which ones didn’t. Finally, she was brought down to two dressed. A black tight gown with a sweetheart neckline that she adores and a pale pink maxi dress that had a thigh split. After careful consideration, she went with the black dress.

“Your turn, Y/N.” Erika smiled.

“Oh, I didn’t find anything,” You said bluntly.

“We aren’t leaving until you find something,” Your mother threatened.

You turned to the clerk, “Surprise me.”

Minutes late you found yourself in the changing room with three different gowns. The first one was such a terrible combination of red and white, that you didn’t bother to come out of the room. Instead, you slipped into the second dress. A beautiful creme colored dress with a plunging neckline. A thick gold belt rested just below your breasts. The skirt split at the thigh and you had to admit, you looked great. You walked out of the dressing room and stood on the elevated platform in front of the mirror. Your mother and sister seemed to approve.

“That looks amazing,” Erika said.

“You look like a goddess,” Your Mother added.

“My boobs are pushed up to my ears,” You complained and pulled up the neckline. You lifted the skirt and walked off the platform.

“This is the last dress, Miss,” The clerk said as she took out the third dress. You handed her the gown you just had on and slipped into the dark blue one.

It was tight and showed off every single curve you had. The loose mermaid end trailed behind you. The torso was a wrap around. It hugged your neck and showed off a small piece of your stomach in the shape of a triangle. You walked out of the room.

“That is your dress,” Erika said and did a small clap of glee.

“That looks stupendous,” Your mother agreed. “You are taking it.”

You examined yourself in the mirror. You felt beautiful. Like a queen. Like you could conquer an entire country and gladly rule it alone.

“This is my dress,” You repeated and you believed it.

“Doll,” Bucky knocked on the bathroom door. “Are you ready?”

Your heart nearly fell down to your ass. You were ready, yes, you were just really nervous. With a last quick glance in the mirror, you nodded and walked towards the door. Your heels clicking against the marble floor.

Your hand rested on the knob before you slid the doors open. Bucky was standing on the other side, your jaw fell agape. He wore a perfectly fitted tuxedo. His white dressing shirt stretched out against his chest and the black tie hung perfectly tied around his neck. His hair was combed back to keep it out of his face. Overall, Bucky looked handsome.

“That specialist did a good job,” You noted.

“Y/N,” he began. “You look gorgeous.”

You blushed and let your gaze fall to your covered feet. He tilted your chin up using his index finger. His blue eyes met yours and it was a brief moment of intense eye sex.

He cleared his throat, “We should get going.”

You nodded and he took a step back before offering you his arm. A smile pulled at the corner of your lips as your looped your arm through his.

Instead of leading you outside to where your car was parked, Bucky took you to Tony’s car garage. Cars were lined up under the fluorescent lights. Different colors, brand, and design.

“Stark doesn’t have to find out,” Bucky grinned mischievously and walked towards a Camaro.

“But what if he does,” You insisted. “Or what if something happens, I certainly can’t pay off a car like this one.” You motioned to the Lamborghini.

“Nothing bad will happen, Y/N.” He looked at you. “Have a little faith in your man.” He winked and you rolled your eyes before reluctantly sliding into the passenger seat of a black Corvette.

Bucky found the keys and stuck them into the ignition. The engine roared to life. The doors opened and Bucky raced out of the garage. Tires squealing against the concrete as speedometer told the miles per hour.





There was an exhilarating feeling that was rising inside of you. Adrenaline. The need for speed. A wide smile broke onto your face and you laughed. Bucky joined you as he accelerated the speed. This was a side of Bucky you’ve never seen before. He was being cocky. And you liked it.

You arrive at the gala, arm in arm with Bucky. Several people that you barely knew came forwards and struck up a conversation. Telling you about how you’ve grown and how you look like a woman now. Bucky identified himself as your boyfriend and they wished you many happy years.

Your grip tightened on Bucky’s arm when you spotted someone you haven’t seen in years. Adam Clair was your boyfriend for 2 years until he broke your heart and turned to a spunky redhead. It took so long to get over him, now all you felt for him was rage. A blond now clung onto his arm.

“Shit,” You muttered under your breath when he spotted you.

“What is it?” Bucky asked.

“My ex is walking over here,” You looked at him.

“You want me to punch him?” He asked.

“What? No!” You whisper-yelled.


You pulled your best fake smile and straightened up as you looked at him.

“Hi Adam,” Your cheeks throbbed from all the smiling. “How have you been?”

“Busy running a business,” He said smugly. After Adam’s father died, he inherited Clair & Co.

“Sounds exhausting,” You rolled your eyes.

“This is my fiancée, Briana Knight.” Adam introduced the blond.

You were a bit taken aback. You didn’t expect him to be tied down to one girl for so long. Nevertheless, here he was, with a fiancée. She smiled widely and extended her arm for a handshake

“So nice to meet you, Briana,” You stated kindly. Briana shook Bucky’s hand as well. “This is Bucky Barnes, my boyfriend.”

“Barnes?” Adam asked, his gaze drifted to Bucky’s arm. His metal one. Realization flashed across his eyes. “You’re The Bucky Barnes! The Winter Soldier! No wonder you looked so familiar.”

Bucky stiffened beside you. The tension between you tightened as Adam continued to talk.

“Man, always knew you liked a bit of danger in your life Y/N but never imagined you’d date a criminal,” he laughed and you burned with anger. “An assassin.” He burst into laughter.

Briana gave an apologetic frown. Sympathy showing clearly in her hazel eyes.

You stepped towards Adam, but before you could do anything else, Bucky wrapped an arm around yours and pulled you away. Before you could give Adam hell, you were already being dragged away.

“Let it go,” Bucky said.

“I can’t just let him say that stuff!” You huffed.

“Yes you can, I’m already used to it, Y/N.” He paused. “Besides can’t let you attack him, you’ll probably break a few bones. You’re too pretty to be angry right now, doll.”

“Boy, do you have a way with words, Barnes,” You said alluringly.

You found the table that your family was sitting and joined them. Your Father commented that you looked beautiful in the dress and your Mother butted in, saying that she picked it out. Erika sat proudly next to her fiancé, Ashton. Rose, Jay’s wife sat alone, with your brother nowhere to be seen.

The night dragged on, you already ate and the auction was soon to commence. You wanted to leave already, but your Mother just kept on pulling you or Bucky into a different conversation. Your Dad absolutely loved Bucky. He talked about various things with him and the other men.

“It’s time to bring out your wallets ladies and gentlemen because we’re about to begin the auction.” A man on the stage announced.

Many people straightened up and turned their attention to the stage. Some men were smugly talking about how much money they were planning on spending. A few of the ladies were whispering excitedly, talking about which men hopefully would bid on them. You winced at their words.

Bucky placed a hand on your knee. You looked at him, he smiled slyly at you. You were grateful for his continuous encouragement throughout the entire time.

His hand began to slide higher until it rested on your thigh. You sucked in a sharp breath and your stomach caved in. Your heart began to play a game of ‘See How Fast I Can Beat.’ A  heavy exhale escaped your lips. You knew that he knew what he was doing to you. He looked at you from the corner of his eye. Never in your life did you want to kiss him as much as you wanted to right now.

You stood up abruptly and excused yourself from the table. Your cheeks burned as you moved swiftly among the tables. The bathroom was in a secluded area. Before you stepped inside, you leaned against a tall column.

“You okay there, doll?” Bucky asked.

You turned and glared at him. He smiled at the fact that you couldn’t hide the lust that filled your eyes. He stepped closer until your back was pinned up against the column.

His lips captured yours in a heated kiss. Bucky’s hands explored your body until they settled on the curve of your cloth-covered bottom. You tried not to moan when his mouth left yours. He left a trail of hot wet kisses on your neck.

“You’re so beautiful,” He whispered against your skin.

His low voice sent a chill down your spine that only fueled the fire in your core. Your chest heaved violently against his.

“Bucky,” You said breathlessly. “We can’t do this here.”

He pulled back and looked at you, the desire in his eyes was clear. “You want to get out of here?”

“Hell yeah,” You replied as he took your hand. The two of you sneaked away from the gala and into the open air where the valet was already waiting.

tagged:  @secrets-rain @buckys-other-punk @lost-to-my-mind@fearthedietcoke @sheerio-styles@angelpeachamber @my-jekyll-doesnt-hide @5-seconds-of-sebastian-stan @barnes-and-noble-girl@procrastinatingvirgo @juliagolia87 @avengerswitch @fav-fan-fic@nebulaeofpie@shamvictoria11 @brooklynnewsie1899@caitsymichelle13@jade-cheshire@i-want-to-fuck-that-dorito-man@theriumking @faithful-music @myhighanddry-blog@amrita31199 @nadialinett14@heismyhunter@marvelgoateecollection@hattnco@imgettingmarriedtobuckybarnes@ambrosedreamer @heyitsannexcx @crazy-attack@glitterangell @dontdumpyour-wackadoo-onme @writemeatale @akaganhan @lexbugz @star-arm-and-shield @carpe-diem-infinity21 @ithecrownjewel @willowtighe @sebstan01 @white-calamity @spn-worm@dummheitfeiertseincomeback @kcsavege4134 @darkheartvamp @baileys-corner@t0ny-st4nk @buckyb-avengers @lilacs-lavender @-tulipsunflower-@faithfulpanicmoon@cutecuddlycalpal @virtualenemygalaxy @winter-in-wakanda @blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme @seargantbcky @heytherepartner @1kutepup2001 @falling-buxky @alittlewerewolfgirl @guccichanelarmani @mrsdarcyinlovewithbuckybarnes@minaphobia @pickylittlebitch @porpentinagscamander @kitty-5213 @aweways@swiftavengers @elisa-ramirez14 @xxhusnaaxx @hush-littlebunny @bucknastywinterbear@bubble-dreamer123 @catmaidpancake @popqueen96 @bucky–b4rnes @kaykayvoltage53 @myfleshtastesliketearsfromcrying @oopsmybagofplums @irepeldirt @missmalfoy1703@crazychick010 @rapunzxl @akaganhan @klutzly @lifeislikeatimebomb @fangirl1029 @laxjaneen @dare-to-dream-about-1d @themistsofmyavalon @apeshit7x @shannonfayee @coconutlagoon @sammiplier1 @slut-for-barnes

*Tumblr didn’t let me tag a few users so I will just send you this part via message

anonymous asked:

Could you please write a fic where Rhys gets up in the middle of the night because he scents a horny sleeping Feyre. Then he wakes her up by doing kinky shit to her 😍😅

I just want everyone to know that I will probably NEVER answer one of these prompts again. I have too many other legit stories I want to tell. So this is gonna be short and sweet and smutty. This is NSFW and, as I have no fear of words, I use language that MANY people find offensive. This was NOT written with personalities or what’s canon in mind. So it does not reflect how I see or understand these characters. You’ve been warned!

[A Midnight Feast]

It was the smell that woke me. Something sweet and haunting, and so thick in the air that I could have choked on it. It called to something so ancient in my blood that I damn near woke in a frenzy.

I inhaled deeply, and my body sang to life.

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anonymous asked:

you know what would be great? If you wrote a fic about kylo ren eating garlic bread in his command shuttle for two hours

@new-vogue-ravyn, @kyloshipsreylo, @persimonne, @sonofasphinx, @isilwenshadewind, @sandeebeache5, @loyal-to-reylo, @reylo-repository

by overwhelming demand, here is the “kylo ren eating garlic bread for two hours in his command shuttle” as inspired by pablo hidalgo. this is crack taken seriously, by the way, and fetishizing as hell of binge eating disorder. abandon all hope ye who enter here.

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I am ye olde personage

from ancient times…

I remember when police officers just wore a shirt and a tie and carried a truncheon, now they look like SAS commandos carrying machine guns

I remember a time before video, cassettes, and CD’s….before colour TV, fuck.

I remember when the teacher would whack me with a thick leather belt on my hands if I was naughty, or forgot homework.

I remember seeing construction workers without hard hats and hi-viz clothing

I remember a time before hi-viz clothing…..fuck

fuck, I’m ye olde cunt, from ye ancient times of not even knowing what a computer looked like….

to me a computer was lots of wee lights with a monotonic female voice. (star trek)

does anyone here remember playing outside?even when you were a teenager?

MagizooHerbologist - Part 2

Pairing: Newt Scamander x Reader

Word Count: 2138

Warnings: Violence?? I guess idk 


Originally posted by painfulblisss

Africa. It was a beautiful, dry land, expanding for miles around with no hint of a change in terrain. The edges of the flat lands seemed to divulge into a blur, with the heat being clearly visible through the refraction of the harsh sunlight. You slaved over a dry bush, pushing the warm sweat off your face with the palm of your hand.

“Hurry up (Y/n)! You’ll miss the mating dance!” Newt beckoned you over with a wave and an ecstatic grin. You sighed, abandoning the Shrivelfig you had been collecting to lay next to the excited Magizoologist. You propped your elbows up in the dry grass, its hard spindles digging into your flesh slightly as Newt passed you his pair of binoculars. You were both lying flat on your stomachs, on top of a small hill, now observing a wild Erumpent mating ritual.

“It’s amazing!” You announced in a hushed voice. “But what would happen if they accidentally pierced each other with their horns?”

Newt snickered at your curious question, looking at you with a wild enthusiasm.

“Well Erumpents are… how should I put it? They’re- immune to their own horns. I mean, they can still hurt members of their own kind. They have been known to do so a lot when protecting their territory, or fighting over a mate. But they won’t explode, because their horn’s fluid doesn’t have an effect on the same species.” He explained happily. “They have some sort of anti-explosive agent in their blood.”

“That’s fascinating.” You whispered. Newt turned to you, becoming entranced by your look of complete dedication to the scene. You were so submerged in the magical beasts’ love dance that you hadn’t noticed Newt was doing one of his own. His heart had begun beating loudly in his chest, his stomach proceeding to flip as he watched your lively face watch the act in awe.  

Oh no, he thought. I’m in love with her.

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