#fic hoard

[pigeonwit]

hi pidge! i was wondering if you knew of any canon era fics where davey and jack grow apart/jack goes to santa fe/separate/whatever and reunite sometime in the future?

... you know i could've SWORN i did, but i actually don't? which is a shame because jack leaving for santa fe, regretting it, and coming home in shame but knowing exactly what he wants and davey staying in new york, desperately wanting to welcome jack back but refusing because he knows how much jack can hurt him and won't risk it again, all set against that backdrop of period typical homophobia and keeping up appearances is a really cool idea. maybe davey actually did resign himself to living purely for his family and is close to settling down with a nice girl in a cushy job he hates, but has convinced himself its worth it for the sake of not letting his heart get broken again. what was he thinking, right? and it'd be so interesting to see how jack goes about rebuilding his friendships not only with davey but with everyone else he left behind. because i can understand people like race and crutchie feeling abandoned, but itd also be a great way to explore how jack was forced to grow up before he should've and how stressed he was acting as the leader to 100 boys at the age of 17.

that being said i feel kind of bad leaving this with just saying 'sorry no, whoopsies!!' so i'll recommend the two (technically three) fics that immediately came to mind when i was wracking my brain for anything that kind of fit this description. behold:

favorite crime by @we-are-inevitable (side bar this took me too many attempts to find again because i kept spelling 'favorite' the british way) - jack and davey engaged in a secret relationship which jack ended out of fear that due to his success with his political cartoons, they'd be under more scrutiny and thus more likely to be found out, leaving davey behind. they do TECHNICALLY reunite in the future but the story isnt meant to have a happy ending; instead you get a really achingly poignant story about love, fear and the consequences of both. the prose is gorgeous and the characterization is (in my opinion) the most solid in the fandom. jack's absence from daveys life is like a scar across the fic and you really feel how it affects davey to have such a permanent pain everpresent in him - but also having the memory of it nonetheless. its probably not the comforting fluff you're looking for but it IS a beautiful fic and if you're in a good enough place to read it, i recommend it!!

keepsakes (and trinkets) by @livesincerely - this is modern era, but it fits the bill almost perfectly. jack and davey were together but jack got a job offer in santa fe, causing a misunderstanding of davey wanting to support jacks dream while wishing he'd stay and jack not wanting to pressure him into uprooting his life while wishing he'd come with him. after finding davey while back in new york for a visit, they finally confront each other and all those old feelings come back to the surface. it's one of my favourite fics; i'm a big sentimentalist and i love the idea of keeping an object tied to a person for so long that you eventually dont even realize how much of that person is still in your life, still clinging on to the edges, not quite letting go. i love the idea of not even realizing how much a person is still clinging to the edges of your life until that person is THERE and suddenly oh, its unavoidable. all those little keepsakes and the memories attached are still there. you can try to get rid of them, but at a certain point that person has touched so much of your life that you dont even notice it. its just everywhere. i love that shit. im obsessed with that shit. it's one of my favourite go-to comfort fics when i need a little mental treat.

if anyone has any fics that DO fit this request in its entirety please let me know, because i would like to read them!

#fic recs part three! yay :D #i was brave and actually tagged people this time instead of doing the old @/ trick be proud of me #fic recs #fic hoard #newsies #javid #javey #ask #anon

[thegnomelord]

Good Dog

CW: NSFW, DARK-FIC, murder, gore, power imbalance, size difference(reader's bigger), description of torture and brainwashing, oral, anal, blood as lube, plot and exposition with porn, pet play(collars and leashes), toxic relationship, dub-con, very very self indulgent.

Моя гончая- my hound, Хороший солдат - good soldier, Расслабьтесь, братья мои - relax, my brothers, приносить - fetch, есть - eat

The thick door and walls of the private room do nothing to damped the bass of the club pounding in his ears, the annoying music made bearable by the high of a recent victory. Puffs of cigarette smoke lazily curl in the air as Makarov leans further back into the couch, the buzzing sting of a fresh tattoo helping him relax. The scent of expensive liquor only adds to the heady atmosphere, crystal clear vodka swirling in his glass before Makarov takes a sip. His dark eyes peer over the rim of his glass, like doorways to a dark abyss, his gaze dancing across the faces of his most trusted men before settling on the lieutenant's as the man tries to prove his worth with pointless words.

Above all else, Makarov values loyalty.

It doesn't matter how strong a man is if he can't follow orders. The number of soldiers he can lead is pointless when he can't keep his men alive. How well he can shoot is meaningless when he can't devote himself to a cause. A man who is disloyal is a man of single use.

Makarov doesn't even try to listen to whatever drivel the lieutenant's spouting, he doesn't see a reason to sour his mood when he already knows everything: the embezzling, the lying, the adorable double agent act. He has you to thank for that, you'd sniffed the lieutenant out the second you met him, diligently uncovering every speck of dirt the lieutenant had attempted to hide from Makarov.

And you? You are very loyal. His loyal hound.

His fingers curl around the leash, the smooth black leather sliding against his calloused palms. A barely there tug is all it takes for you to lean down over the back of the couch, bracing one large hand near his head for support as the other remains over the grip of your sidearm. You loom over him, and while Makarov may be a fearsome man, he can't deny the type of foreboding fear a goliath like you inspires — a towering figure always a step behind him, broad body big enough to easily cover him fully if you need to take a bullet for him, arms strong and palms wide to easily crack a man's skull.

Settling the glass down he takes another drag of his cigarette, "Hound," Another tug — sharper, harsher; such a small correction yet the fact you needed it at all has acrid disappointment burning on your tongue — makes you bend down more, your face now next to his. He doesn't draw attention to the reprimand, breathing out a puff of smoke near your face. "Were you listening, моя гончая?"

It's a pointless question, he knows you were listening, he trained you to. But he asks because he loves to see the way your eyes darken, jaw tight. The cigarette smoke dances in the air, making the club's low lights reflect off the sharp spikes adorning the thick collar snuggly wrapped around your throat. Your day collar suits you well, no different than the spiked collars put on hunting hounds.

"Yes sir." You answer, your attention now solely on the lieutenant.

Makarov hums, eyes flickering from the lieutenant to you. "And?" He chuckles and lets the leash go, his word keeping you in place as he casually pats your neck. "What did you hear?"

"Lies. . ." The slow slide of his fingers across the uncovered parts of your throat makes your breath stutter, static crackling beneath your skin. "I heard lies, sir." Your answer causes the lieutenant to try and sputter excuses and denials, all cut short by the harsh look you give him.

Makarov chuckles, hooking a finger over the silver loop at the front of your collar, pulling on it and tilting his head so his lips can ghost across your jaw. "Хороший солдат." Makarov murmurs. His stubble scratches your skin as his lips brush a path to your ear, so very close to a lover's kiss.

But a brush of skin is all it is. Nothing more. Your body earns for more, to turn your head and experience the bruising possessiveness of his kiss once again, to feel his teeth bite down on your lip until blood floods both of your mouths. But you don't move; A spoiled dog isn't loyal and Makarov won't lavish you with attention for nothing. no — you must earn it.

"Stay." The soft 'click' of the leash unclipping sounds the same as a sentencing gavel, the strip of leather falling away until only his word keeps you from tearing the lieutenant's throat out with your teeth. Makarov smirks against your skin, his words honey sweet to your ears as he whispers: "Sick him."

That seals the ex-lieutenant's fate.

You're on the lieutenant in an instant, crashing into him like a truck. Makarov leans back and lights up another cigarette as you stomp down on the man's leg, all the weight you carry around bearing down on his bones until they break, erasing any foolish thoughts of escape when you snap the bones of his other ankle; Makarov has truly taught you well.

The screams of a traitor are much better than the atrocious club music, letting him enjoy the smooth burn of the vodka as another stomp breaks a couple of ribs. Some of his men are still nervous around you, trying not to shuffle in their seats lest they grab your attention and become the new outlet of your violence.

"Расслабьтесь, братья мои." Makarov gives a charming smile, resting his ankle on his knee as he takes another drag. "Hound is well trained, you have nothing to fear." He chuckles, lazily watching you as he holds conversation with his lieutenants. Honestly, you're like a dog with a new toy, tossing the man around and pinning him down under your heavy body, each swing of your fists steadily turning the ex-lieutenant's face into pulp.

It's as entertaining for him as it is therapeutic for you.

And to think Price had tried to suppress all that beautiful savageness you possessed.

Makarov remembers how you'd been nothing but a snarling and cursing ball of anger when his men had captured you after a botched mission. He had been both annoyed and amused by how loyal you were to Price, weathering every beating and starving and humiliation with the same 'fuck you' response, baring your teeth like the cornered dog you were. With days turning to months and your resolve refusing to waver under their 'care' Makarov had considered just putting you down, sending a nice video of blowing your skull open to Price but oh — is he glad he decided to indulge in the game your stubbornness presented.

He set out to train you like he would any mongrel mutt, clear expectations making it easy to tell whether your actions would get you a reward or an even worse punishment, giving small rewards for the behavior he wanted; not snarling at him might earn you a better meal. Biting your lip and taking your beating without back talk could get you a couple of minutes outside the claustrophobic walls of your cell. Letting him touch and inspect your body without complaint might reward you with a book or some other little creature comfort he could, and did, easily take away the moment you stepped out of line.

Of course you were weary, perceptive enough to know when he was scheming. But every man has his limits, yours were simply reached when he handed you official C.I.A documents proclaiming you as K.I.A, the mission itself creatively rewritten to sound like you had gone and deserted to the enemy — no one was looking for you, no one was coming to save you, your captain, Price, wasn't coming to save you.

He had taken great enjoyment in running his fingers across your scalp as you clutched the documents in a white knuckled grip, your mind far too worn down to question or guard against the soft touches. His lips had brushed against your ear, soothingly raspy voice comforting you — you're a good soldier, strong, reliable, everything a commander could dream of. It wasn't your fault you trusted the wrong man, truly, what a shame to have your loyalty repaid with betrayed like that.

After that, it became laughably easy to train you. He stuck with simple commands, spoken only in Russian so he could amuse himself with the way your head would tilt before you'd perk up, recognition making your dull eyes brighten before you did what he wanted in exchange for a small scrap of his affection, learning to seek his praise and appreciate his touch even when your body still prickled with disgust. So when he handed you the knife, standing so close you could have easily slit his throat, and ordered you to kill another member of your previous taskforce, you hadn't hesitated for a second. "Good boy." He had purred, caressing your jaw as he used his thumb to wipe away the blood staining your cheek.

"Hound." His voice is as effective as any physical tug on your leash, making you stop mid punch with your fist inches away from the ex-lieutenant's caved in face. You're covered in blood, the rich crimson bringing out the violence swirling in your eyes.

Yet you look at him with utter adoration he wants to shove his cock deep down your throat just so he can see your tears smudge the blood on your cheeks. "Приносить." He taps his thigh.

You nod your head, grabbing the knife strapped to your thigh. There's no hesitation in your movements as you shove the knife into the ex-lieutenant's throat. An arc of blood spurts across your front when you yank it out just to stab another spot, the man coughing and choking as you cut through cartilage and muscle until with a good yank and a sickening 'crack!' you separate the head from the body.

Makarov had never seen the appeal of large hulking brutes until you — your body had filled back out with muscle and fat nicely after you became his, towering body demanding attention simply by existing as you stand up. The loud stomp of your feet and the blood staining your body making you look like a barbarian, casting a shadow over him before you kneel at his feet, offering the decapitated head as a knight does to his king.

Oh yes, he definitely sees the appeal now.

"Good dog." He purrs, reaching out to stroke your jaw, smearing some of the blood with his thumb. Fingers sliding down to hook on the silver ring on your collar he pulls your head closer. "Do you think you earned a reward?"

It's a test. One you're intimately familiar with. The judgmental stares of Makarov's trusted men are the last thing in your mind when the closeness of his body and the sharp crisp scent of his cologne threatens to shatter your resolve. "Only if you permit it, sir." Your throat feels dry, trying not to show how eager you are for his attention as you place the head on the floor so you don't get a drop of blood on him.

Makarov smirks, "Smart dog," His hands move to the back of your neck, unbuckling the collar. You're no longer ashamed to admit you feel naked as the thick piece of leather is pulled away; the time when you didn't have a collar wrapped around your neck feel like a distant memory and now the sensation of breathing without it pressing against your skin is disturbing. You have to bite your lip to keep the low whine from escaping your chest.

His hand wraps securely around your throat, bringing your breath back to you. Your Adam's apple bobs beneath his fingers as he traces the 'V.M' shallowly carved across your throat. "It's already starting to fade." He tuts, squeezing his fingers to restrict your breathing just the slightest bit more. "We'll need to have it tattooed. That would be nice, yes?"

You suck in a sharp breath, "Yes sir."

"Хороший солдат." He purrs. He pulls out another collar from his pocket and you feel yourself chub up in your pants just at the sight of it. It's the chained pronged one he uses exclusively when he wants you to pleasure him, particularly because it leaves such pretty bruises along your skin when he tugs on the leash.

You eagerly tilt your head back to bare your throat, a shudder rushing down your spine as soon as you feel the cold metal against your skin. You stay perfectly still as he secures around your neck, the sharp pull of the leash making the prongs dig into your skin, prickles of pain making you even harder. "Go on," Makarov hums, spreading his legs wider so your attention falls to the hard bulge in his slacks, his belt undone but the rest left to you. "есть."

You don't think you could enjoy servicing him as much as you did if he didn't let you work for it, the reward made sweeter because you earned it. Truly, he's so good to you, you'd thank him profusely but he hasn't given you permission to speak freely. So you lean in, careful not to get blood on his pants as you take the metal zipper between your teeth and pull it down. You've done this enough not to have any problems undoing the button, your hands obediently planted on your thighs and your gaze firmly on him so you can see the pleased smirk that spreads across his features when you bite the band of his boxers and pull them down until his cock springs out, already hard.

A pleased sigh escapes him when your warm lips wrap around the head of his cock, the leash wrapped firmly around his hand and the slightest tug on it has pain prickling down your spine. "Моя гончая, don't waste my time." You can't help but whine lowly at the admonishment, quickly trying to make up to him by sucking on the tip and licking the slit in just the way he likes it.

His leg shifts, hard boot coming up to grind the sole against your clothed cock. "That's better." The praise makes you moan deep from your chest and try to take more of his cock into your mouth, your boxers wet and sticky against your own cock as you give an experimental hump of your hips against his boot. You scrape your teeth along the vein on the underside of his cock and it earns you a rough grind of his boot. His hand tangles in your bloodied hair and pulls you down until his cock bumps the back of your throat.

You nearly choke from the sudden pressure, trying to fight off the reflex to pull back and gag. "Look at me." His order rings clear in your head, your eyes meeting his as he grinds your nose into his pubic hair, tears prickling the corners of your eyes as your lungs start to burn. You fight through it, the fluttering of your throat making him five a small, rough, moan and fuck — you're hard as a rock.

Just as you feel like you'll pass out on his cock he lets you off, yanking your head back. You're only given a few seconds to take a sharp breath of fresh air before he pushes your head back down. You're prepared this time, hollowing your cheeks and relaxing your throat, swallowing around his hard cock. The way you suck Makarov off is wet and sloppy, stealing ragged breaths when you can as you trace the veins of his cock with your tongue and gently nibble on the base when his cock's fully sheathed in your throat, knowing exactly how to please him. Your efforts are rewarded with the salty taste of precum on your tongue, hearing him occasionally mutter his praises in Russian, none of his words snagging on your mind like sharp orders so you let yourself drift in the pleasure of servicing him, subconsciously grinding your cock into his foot.

But you're not mentally gone enough not to notice the squeaking of chairs, your body tensing as you pull up enough so only his head remains in your mouth, your head turned just enough to throw a sharp glare at the other men in the room. Makarov having his guard down like this makes you tense, violence buzzing beneath your skin from the ingrained need to protect him.

"Hound." Makarov's growl is followed by another sharp tug of the leash, the dull ache of the metal prongs digging into your skin dissipating some of your aggression. "Did I tell you to stop?"

You shake your head as best you can, a pathetic whine escaping your chest from the way the pain makes your cock even harder. Satisfied, he eases the leash, letting you return to your work. His head lolls back, lazily looking at his men. He couldn't care less who sees you like this, but now he wants your full attention on him. "Leave." He gives the simple command.

You track the sound of shuffling feet as you take him fully into your mouth, making him hiss a curse under his breath. Nuzzling your nose into his curly pubic hair you breathe in his musk, his heel grinding firmly and consistently against your hard cock, pleasure pulsing through your veins with such intensity you're worried you'll cum without permission, low whines escaping your throat.

He pulls you off him suddenly, your lungs burning as you gasp for air. You expect him to paint your face with his cum, stake an obvious ownership over you. But he doesn't, pulling you by the leash and leaning down to mash your lips together, teeth biting down on your lip until it bleeds.

Makarov's kisses are rough and demanding, the sweet drug your body's been craving, teeth clicking together and tongues swirling in each other's mouths. The firm grind of his boot against your crotch makes you moan lowly, a sound he happily swallows down and nearly shoves his tongue down your throat. You part far too soon, your body craving much much more, but he doesn't let you stew in the disappointment of a short kiss — it's an owner's responsibility to spoil his pet — mumbling against your lips. "Prepare me."

A full shudder runs down your spine and you surge to follow his order. Makarov loves the determined look you get in your eye just as much as he loves the rough way you grip his hips and hike them up so you can pull his pants and boxers down his legs. Your bloodied fingers grip his hips and pull them down until his ass hangs off the edge of the couch, throwing his legs over your shoulders and he can feel the muscles deep in his back strain as you nearly bend him in half, his hard cock and hole bared for you.

It's a vulnerable position, trapped between your bulky frame and the couch he has no way to escape. And if anyone else were to attempt this he would feed every inch of their flesh to themselves. But Makarov relishes the knowledge that he's in control, a single word from him would make you stop regardless of how hard and wanting you were, your loyalty to him as real as the dead man's blood you dip your fingers in to lube them.

Your fingers circle his hole before you press the pad of your finger against it. Without the heat of battle the cold viscousness of the blood feels disgusting, making him shiver and his rim flutter against your digit. But the discomfort is easily forgotten when you apply pressure, the steady and persistent way you push your finger in forcing his muscles to yield. "Shit-" Makarov clenches his teeth; your fingers are so large just one feels like two of his own, the gnawing pain of your finger pushing deeper just amplifying the pleasure of being stretched open and your other hand loosely stroking his wet cock.

You don't go slower than you need to, perfectly trained to know how to move your fingers to keep him teetering on the edge between pleasure and pain, each shift and slow drag of your finger pulling deep grunt and soft breaths from between his clenched teeth. "Yes, there you go." His praise makes your heart melt and cock throb in your pants, the pull of the leash bringing your lips together in another harsh kiss. You swallow his moans greedily, pushing a second finger in and curling them in search of his prostate, your thumb incessantly rubbing the space between his balls and ass to trap the spongy flesh between your fingers.

He nearly chokes you with how hard he yanks on the leash, hips pushing back into your hand and walls clenching down on your fingers. The stinging ache of being stretched open mixes with the building pleasure, leaving his skin feeling like a live wire. His teeth dig into your lip until it bleeds again, heels digging into your back. He grinds his hips down on your fingers, muttering praises against your lips as you push a third finger in and force him to take it.

He can't wait any more, gripping your hair and roughly yanking your head back. "Fuck me already." He growls, licking the blood staining your cheek.

You scramble to do as you're told, continuing to stretch him open as you undo your belt and pants with one hand, your hard cock bobbing against your abdomen. Pulling your fingers out you scoop up more blood, the cold helping reign in your lust as you lube up.

Before you can do anything he reaches out to grip the base of your cock, his hold firm and just at the cusp of pain. "You'll be good, yes?" He growls against your lips. "Fuck me good and hard?" His hand moves, stroking you slowly, evenly coating the blood along your cock. "I don't need to show you how to use this thing again, do I?" There's a dangerous edge in his voice.

Fear shoots down your spine, mouth going dry. You'd been too eager for human touch when he first let you mount him, and when you came seconds after getting inside him he'd been less than pleased by your abilities. You couldn't feel your cock for a full week after he'd tied you down and used your cock until you couldn't cum, using a cock ring to keep you hard and using you until he was satisfied.

You quickly shake your head. "No sir," You choke out and bare your throat. "I can do it, I'll be good." You promise.

His hold loosens, tugging you by the hair so he can peck your lips, his tongue licking over the small wound he'd made. "Don't fail me now."

You steel yourself like you're going to war, pressing your cockhead to his hole. Your nails dig into his hip, your grip ironclad to keep him still as you pull him down more and simultaneously push in. There's a second of resistance before your head pops in, the pleasure of entering his velvet soft insides being met with sharp pain as his teeth chomp down on your shoulder through your shirt. It all mixes in your brain into pure bliss, your hips bucking up into him automatically until you're bottomed out. You hold him close to you and leisurely grind your hips, letting him get used to the mind numbing stretch.

Fuck— Makarov may see the appeal of brutes but impaled on your cock he feels like he's being split in two, lungs burning and he can almost swear your tip's poking his diaphragm. He chases the pain more than the pleasure, heels digging into your back to give him some leverage so he can push his hips into yours. "Yes," His head lolls back when you slowly withdraw, only to suddenly snap your hips and hilt yourself inside him again. "-fuck, yes!"

The blood keeps you from tearing him apart but there's too little of it to keep him from feeling the painful stretch, the slow movement of your hips making his thighs shake. "Harder," He demands, yanking on your leash and biting your shoulder again. "Make me feel it." His voice is rough with a demand, because men like him never beg.

"Yes sir," You manage, bracing your feet and setting a rough pace, rutting into him like an animal. He muffles his sounds into your shoulder as your cock saws into him, his walls fluttering and clenching around you so tightly it feels like he'll snap your cock off. You do your best to focus on him and his pleasure, but the tight heat of his hole is rapidly melting any control you have, your cock throbbing and leaking precum inside him.

"Sir, please-" You whine, your muscles tight and your balls feeling so full you feel like you'll burst, your voice full of need. "I'm so close."

“Not yet.” He growls, pushing his hips down to meet your thrusts, your hand stroking his cock. “Make me cum first.” He growls.

You hold back a pathetic whine and redouble your efforts, your rough thrusts bruising his ass as you fuck into him, aiming to nail his prostate every time you bottom out. He wails, whole body shaking, his cock throbbing in your hand and leaking a puddle of precum on his stomach.

Makarov cums without any warning, going rigid and biting your shoulder even harder as pearly cum shoots from his tip, his walls clamping down on your cock. "C- cum!" He snarls, voice muffled, and it's all you need. Bottoming out fully you moan as you shoot his insides full of your cum, rocking your hips and grinding your cock against his prostate to prolong both of our highs.

You hold him close as you come down to reality but the way his walls clench around your cock makes you feel like heaven. His hands grip your jaw, bringing you down into a disorganized sloppy kiss. He's boneless in your arms, his walls continuing to flutter around you. "That was good." He slurs, chest rising and falling as he tries to catch his breath. "Good dog."

The tug of the leash is expected and Makarov kisses the corner of your lips, tongue swiping across your skin to lick up more of the blood staining your lips. "Clean me up." He orders, "Lick up your mess." He growls, and there's not a single part of you that would refuse him.

Tag list: @lieutnt, @pastelclovds @thee-great-enigma @vladimirking24

#baby's first dark fic #vladimir makarov x male reader #vladimir makarov x reader #bottom cod x male reader #cod modern warfare #cod mw3 #vladimir makarov #gay #cod x male!reader #cod x reader #cod x male reader #cod x you #trinckets of the hoard #centerpieces of the hoard #cod mw2 #call of duty x male reader #call of duty x reader #bottom character #x top male reader #top male reader #top reader #x dom male reader

[bcyhoods]

hi! can I please request the prompt “caressing the other's cheek softly, hoping to wake them up that way” with steve and shy!reader? maybe it’s their first time waking up together and he’s just so in love?

thank you for the req nonnieeee <333 need him in my bed immediately, thanks! | 0.5k gn!reader

Steve can’t seem to put his finger on it.

Maybe you were born with some sort of super power. Like you’re able to induce serenity with just a touch of your fingertips, a timid press of your lips to his cheek. Or it could be something spiritual. Something about your souls being intertwined due to something living in the stars or the color of your aura or something.

He doesn’t really know. Waking up to you in his bed for the first time makes his brain all fuzzy.

The sun spills in through his blinds and covers every inch of your exposed skin in golden warmth. Your hair is wild, splayed out over his pillowcase — which he’s sure now smells like your shampoo. You’d slowly inched apart from each other during the night, but your hand still rests over his torso, accidentally bunching up the material of his shirt around your fingertips. The longer he lets himself look at you, the harder his heart thrashes around in his chest.

He doesn’t really want to wake you, but he so desperately wants to talk to you. With a tentative hand, he trails up your arm to cup your jaw. His thumb gently passes back and forth over the swell of your cheekbone, reveling in the softness of your skin. A blithe grin hijacks his mouth once he sees you beginning to stir.

“Hmm.” Your hand is gone from his torso to grasp onto his own hand, still just barely caressing your face. You blink a few times, adjusting to the brightness filtering in when you see his face. Warmth settles on his freckled cheeks and paints his skin pink, and it only gets deeper when you give him your own sleepy smile. “Morning.”

“Good morning,” he answers, voice raspy and deep.

He’s looking at you like he can find an answer in your eyes. You might have the entire universe hiding in your pupils. Definitely something akin to stardust shines in them, he swears.

His attention makes you feel lightheaded and your skin burns beneath his touch. You squeeze at his fingers and pucker your lips to fruitlessly keep your nerves at bay, but it produces a kind of upside-down grin that makes him beam and chuckle. You giggle and ask, “What are you doing?”

“Nothin’. Just wanna look at you.”

“Ugh,” you groan and roll your eyes, but the wide smile on your face reveals your secret. Steve Harrington makes your stomach flutter and makes your heart beat so erratically that you can feel it thump and shake against every inch of your body. That’s why you’re quick to shield your face with your hands, muffling your nervous giggles in your palms.

“Oh, stop.” Peeling your hands away from your face, he brings them up to his lips and kisses your knuckles, unceremoniously. The smacking sounds make you laugh, and when he notices, he makes sure to kiss them louder. He stops the assault on your hands to cup them together and press them against his chest.

His heart beats as quickly as yours does.

“I liked sleeping with you,” you tell him with a gummy smile like it was confidential.

“Yeah?”

You’re immediately recognizing the double entendre, but he’s too lovesick to notice. You consume his every thought, it’s impossible to get his mind working accurately. So instead of teasing you, he whispers

“I liked sleeping with you, too, honey.”

#been hoarding this in my drafts cuz i have mixed feelings 🤨 #also seeing exactly where i lost steam is so funny #ᝰ cece’s scribbles #steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington hc #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x reader #steve stranger things #stranger things fluff #stranger things blurb #stranger things fic #joe keery

[densewentz]

ive decided the best thing for Crowley post-s2divorce is to become a goofy girl!Dad to an unhinged gremlin child. In this case this one that I've named Hanna.

#good omens #good omens season 2 #good omens 2 #good omens spoilers #good omens fanart #kid fic #ineffable husbands #anthony j crowley #good omens crowley #i love them your honor #i just think that #having a feral kid around who wholeheartedly trusts and adores crowley #and readily hoards all of his affection #would be extremely good for our poor heartsick demon #my art #sketches #artists on tumblr #im not gonna clean the sketch up bc ive been in an art rut and getting ANYTHING i like out is a miracle so #go me #hanna crowley

[demigod-of-the-agni]

Local man, his two boyfriends and his two girlfriends buy TRANS ICON BLÅHAJ

#flash travasso hoarding all the blahajs seems so right to me. like ofc he would. #enby flash real.. #stop i just realised flash and pavitr and hari are dressed up in traffic colours???? oh my god #traffic light boys + comic accurate outfit girls #faceless hari shouldn't scare me but it does. why does he look like this. im sorry baby boy #pavitr is holding two. yes. he's trans didn't you know? he told me himself #they're all trans why lie actually. #i want a blahaj so bad...... maybe when i get enough money i shall finally bring him home.......... #pavitr prabhakar #spider man india #spider man #meera jain #gayatri singh #flash travasso #hari oberoi #atsv #across the spiderverse #artoftheagni #mythic mumbattan au #how fuckin funny would it be if pavitr got a blahaj for his birthday lol hahahaa. for the birthday fic. that would be so funny. haha. 👁️ #coffee bean gang

[tizniz]

Holdin' it together, but it's hell for me (6.7K)

And he feels so stupid, because he was fine. Really. He was. At least, he thought he was. Except now he’s not so sure. Now he feels like he’s drowning in his own thoughts.

OR: Buck isn't having as good of a day as he thought.

READ ON A03

Sharing is caring: @hippolotamus, @actualalligator, @actuallyitsellie, @bidisasterbuckdiaz, @spotsandsocks, @fortheloveofbuddie, @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove, @theotherbuckley, @daffi-990, @jesuisici33, @cal-daisies-and-briars, @exhuastedpigeon, @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming, @monsterrae1, @epicbuddieficrecs, @elvensorceress, @eddiebabygirldiaz, @eddiebuckley-diaz, @spagheddiediaz, @wildlife4life, @evanbegins, @devirnis, @loveyouanyway, @perfectlysunny02, @smilingbuckley, @watchyourbuck, @loserdiaz, @excuseme-greentea, @wikiangela, @sunshinediaz, @scknight05, @dangerpronebuddie, @kitteneddiediaz, @incorrect9-1-1, @underwater-ninja-13, @bigfootsmom

#eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie #911 fic #911 fanfic #buddie fic #buddie fanfic #tanis writes #my works #fic: holdin' it together but it's hell for me #i need to stop hoarding my stories and just post them #because i love sharing these #and we can never have too many buddie stories #so please enjoy this emotional whump #but buck has an eddie #so it's okay

[gummytea]

"Seiji was the hottest guy at this party"

Fence fan fic by @supermonkeyball (x)

#fence fanart #nichoji #seiji katayama #nicholas cox #fence comic #i'm so invested in this fan fic wowowow #and the role reversal muaaahhh #it's just so good!! #a bunch of doodles I've been hoarding so enjoy

[fistfuloflightning]

Everyone has two names on their skin—one is your soulmate’s, the other is your enemy’s but there is no way to differentiate the two. On his hand, hidden below Zidian, Jiang Cheng has written Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji. Wei Wuxian is his brother, there’s no way they could ever be enemies. Platonic soulmates are common among relatives and Jiang Cheng doesn’t mind it as much as they grow up. So that would mean Lan Wangji is his enemy. So Jiang Cheng treats him as such—up until Jiang Yanli lies dead in his arms and his young nephew is an orphan and he’s watching his brother—he can’t be his soulmate, no soulmate would do such a thing—get spirited away from the horrifying consequences of his actions.

It is only later—much later, after the dead have been buried and mourned and those dark times put away to be taken out and examined only in the dead of night—that he realizes. If Wei Wuxian had been his enemy all along…then who is Lan Wangji to him now?

#mdzs #zhancheng #jiang cheng #wei wuxian #lan wangji #fic ideas #soulmates #idk #this idea popped into my head when I was scrolling through my hoard of aus I’ve stolen over the years

[seatnights]

okay serious question, where are all the bunny outfit! or bunny!character fic for easter? where y’all at? what happened to that. we used to be a proper team here

#i’m sad #srsly is there some easter fic? #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington x reader #billy hargrove x reader #stranger things #stranger things fic #robin buckley x reader #joseph quinn x reader #joe keery x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x y/n #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #eddie munson x you #minesss #gator tillman #fargo #hoard film #michael #joe quinn #steddie x you #steddie x reader #steddie #steddie x y/n #eddie munson x steve harrington #steve harrington x eddie munson

[ekat-fandom-blog]

Dragons and Ghosts prompt

Dragons and ghosts are kind of similar in that some of them can (1) look passably human, (2) be super strong, (3) use magic, (4) take hits better than humans can, (5) heal fast, (6) have obsessions, (7) change forms, (8) have deafening screams/roars, (9) fly, (10) be territorial, (11) use fighting as a form of playing, and (12) probably make attacks come out of their mouths(fire, wind, water, sound...) please note that I used the word can as there are many different types of dragons and ghosts. thank you.

What I'm saying is: Mix Dragon!Batman au with DPxDC.

Danny thinks Batman is a ghost because of multiple of the reasons listed above and tries to reach out with gifts or something as a peace offering. Ghosts don't usually become heroes, so it would be great to meet a few(or one). He doesn't know ghost culture very well, so he probably gets some help. For ghosts it's simple to gain allies, but also extremely difficult. Don't enter another ghost's haunt without permission(unless you plan on fighting them). Gifts in general can be seen as peace offerings unless it's death or obsession related(then it's a courting gift). You can't just show up and wait outside of their haunt to have a chat because it can be seen as you issuing a challenge. If you don't (a)receive an in person gift in return, or (b)an in person meeting with the other ghost in a week, you can try again.

Bruce is unsettled because the scent on the gifts smell weird. He's not the most well versed in magic (just because he's a magical creature, doesn't mean he has to be good at it) but he does know dragon culture. Don't enter someone else's territory without express permission. Gifts have meanings. (If it's shiny, they want something. If it's food, they probably want to be friends/family or to form an alliance. If it's something to add to your hoard and aren't already part of your family, then they are trying to court you. Side note: if you hoard food or shiny things, courting items mostly come in even numbers.) Always, someone is supposed to wait with the gift to explain/negotiate more minor details. Everything is always done on the same day; no waiting, no return gift or searching out the other person/dragon. He assumes a baby dragon found out about him being a dragon and is trying to remember how to contact an unfamiliar dragon. (or if you want bruce/danny: he assumes his potential suitor is unfamiliar with dragon culture and trying to learn)

The cultures overlap, so neither realize that the other isn't the same species, but they're also different enough that they do not understand what's going on.

(feel free to add or disregard anything in this prompt if you want to write something based on this)

#dc x dp au #dc x dp fic idea #dragon!batman #batman is a dragon #dc x dp prompt #yes i am trying to fuel my mythical creature obsession #bruce's hoard is information #and gifts from his family #he keeps all the gifts nicely organized in a box that no one ever sees #he doesn't want his kids to roast him about how sentimental he is #he also doesn't want a single thing to get damaged #that's his drawing of him getting shot by penguin #and he loves it #i should write a separate batman prompt/au for dragon!batman #i don't really wanna #that takes effort that i don't have right now #someone remind me #dc x dp #dp x dc

[pigeonwit]

hiii what r your favorite javey fics asking for a friend xx

[bursts through the wall like the dreamies cat] did someone say javey

here is the first post i made on this - that list was specifically longer fics, so i'll go with shorter ones for this one :) and remember that i do not understand social interactions and rules and etc etc so i dont wanna tag anyone outright just in case it crosses any boundaries.

mountain ridge camp for boys by @/timetogoslumming - starting strong on a GOD DAMN LIE because this one is not short at all but i love it so very much. it could legit be an original story (i'd read the fuck out of a graphic novel of this) it's so well written, the plot is so well set up, etc etc etc its perfect. it hits all my favourite notes - davey going from an outsider to finding his place and feeling like he belongs, jack being a pining idiot, misunderstandings, realistically confusing teenager feelings, etc, etc. i haven't read it in it's entirety for a while but man it makes me happy. sometimes when i'm in my feels i'll pull up the scene where davey very gently handles a ribbon snake. it makes me happy

as you've always been by @/weisenbachfelded - another stunning lie on my part because this is 43,000 words!! ahh friends to fwb to strangers to lovers my beloved. jack and davey re-meet each other after years of separation on a flight - they learn about each others successes and the feelings they'd misinterpreted throughout their friendship. it's so Yearning, so very soft, and not quite as angsty as you'd think. it really does capture that bittersweetness of re-meeting a person you used to know, but also that lingering hope that oh, you do still know this person. and they still know you. it's just such a kind and gentle reading experience.

i pull the trigger (with my eyes closed) by @/we-are-inevitable (MASSIVE trigger warning for murder and suicide) - look man. i have spoken a lot about davey's patented inability to maintain a work-life balance and well. i'd really be letting the team down if i didn't recommend this fic.

i really love this fic as an incredible answer to the question 'just how far does davey's dedication to his family go?'. because davey as a character would give anything for his family, he's doing everything to keep them afloat, he's stressed, he's terrified, he knows he can never repay them for all they've done for him but he needs to try because what kind of son is he if he doesn't? this fic takes all that and goes beyond with it. davey's ruthless dedication to his family juxtaposed against his almost painful love for jack, and how those two things working against each other destroy him. it's intense. there's really no way for me to do this justice in just words alone so i highly recommend you read it (if you're comfortable!) and experience it yourself.

it's so easy (too easy) to love you by @/livesincerely - everyone and their fucking mother knows livesincerely's fics but i love this one so very very much. jack and davey being so in love it's second nature. it's everything to me. it's the perfect little pick-me-up when you've had a long and lonely day.

we'll climb mountains together by @/reluctantcoppercrowd - my favourite javid fic of all god damn time. the progression is perfect, the yearning is palpable, the character interactions and friendships are absolutely flawless, davey as a character is PERFECT (YES he is an awkward anxious autismo YES he is a badass who will kick your goddamn teeth in in the name of Justice NO he will not recognize that he did it at all nor will he accept praise for it THANK YOU), the conflicts are realistic (not only for the time period but the characters themselves process their thoughts feelings and anxieties in realistic ways), the time and effort put into good worldbuilding is PHENOMENAL, and the conclusion feels not only satisfactory, but EARNED. it is truly my favourite javid fic of all time forever and always. it's also not short at all. i'm sorry for the lies anon but i cant help it if things are just Good.

#literally everyone has read these already i know it but. i cant help it anon you said 'favourite' THESE ARE MY FAVOURITES!!! #newsies #javid #javey #anon #ask #fic hoard #fic recs

[thegnomelord]

i took 357191027r6392936446322736432947372 psychic damage from the Makarov fic so you gotta write reader being rescued, healed, rehabilitated and loved by the task force. imagine them teaching reader to be their own person or letting him top without any commands or punishments. reader would be whining like a puppy who doesn't know what it's doing and would be so cute and fearful looking for reasurance when fucking into a task force member it would be so cute

lol idk dude. I was intending to do the fic as a one off to satisfy my puplay kink but it's now started to rot my brain even more lol. If I did continue it, I don't know if I'd want a happy ending or an angsty one (omfg imagine going through all the healing and rehab and experiencing love only for one word from Makarov to have you going back to him without question)

So tell me ya'll if you want me to turn the one shot into a longer fic lol, but for now here's some headcannons, ideas/ whatever and some porn

CW:NSFW, rough anal, Simon x reader with Price watching, dom/sub.

I can't imagine Hound would be happy about the 'rescue' considering everything and definitely would be resistant to rehab (Hound biting ppl and getting muzzled lol) that dogheaded asinine stubbornness coming to bite him in the ass. I headcannon Hound to have already been violent when he was under Price's command but Price kept Hound in check(if anyone's seen that young ghost and price comic with him being compared to a fighting dog it's kinda like that).

Makarov didn't need to do much and just played into the aggressive tendency to make Hound as they are now. The more violent the reaction hound would make, the more attention and praise he'd get. Also I'm just a sucker for dog like characters that are unhinged. That have no moral compass except for the one they're loyal to and will do whatever they ask.

So the task force members would have their hands full with Hound that's basically an aggressive fighting dog taken straight out of the pit. Also I'm still thinking whether the 141 would try to steer Hound away from the pup/dog like mentality Makarov conditioned them into, or if they would try to redirect it by calling Hound 'pup, boy' etc, instead of 'dog' like Makarov did.

Also the grief Price would feel to see the man he thought was dead turned into that would break his heart. I don't know if I'd want him to crack down on trying to rehab hound, or let a lot of things slide because he's scared of fucking you up more.

But also like rehabed fighting dogs turn out to be the sweetest animals and Hound just going from this 'I will bite your throat out' to just a gentle giant that's just happy to be able to touch or hug someone without needed permission. . . but he can still bite a throat out.

Also I 1000% swear that Makarov's a whore and would have trained reader to have enough stamina to fuck him all night long so the task force would get pounded into next year lol.

This is questionable cannon and non-confirmed lol you just got me brain rotting with the cute pup part and this came out. Rough and quick.

CW:NSFW

You feel like you will die; heat burns through your veins, sweat crawls down your skin and makes your hair stick to your forehead. Your hands grip Simon's bruised hips, holding them up for him as you pound into him. "Please-" You barely manage a small whimper, hiding your face in Simon's shoulder.

Simon's body quivers beneath you, limp and boneless, a wet hole for you to use. He's as sweaty as you, rough grunts and half-formed swears leaping from his lips every time your hips meet his ass in a bruising thrust. He's the closest to you in size, albeit still smaller, which makes it easier for him to take your size than the others. His insides are a sweltering heat around your cock, fucked into a loose sloppy hole that would gape if you pulled out, muscles still doing their best to squeeze you every time you nail his prostate.

It makes you feel ashamed how long it took you to find it. Mounting anyone but Makarov feels wrong, you're not sure how fast or how deep to go, this current rough pace making Simon the most vocal since you began. You feel him cum again, walls clenching tightly for the first time in a while as you force him into spurting what's left in his empty balls.

"Pl- sir, I- please, please," You can't help but hiccup, your nails leaving crescent bruises in his skin as you just pound him through his orgasm. It's his fourth one.

"What's wrong son?" Price's words barely get through the fog of need in your skull, more little whimpers splitting from your lips. "Don't you want to let go?" Tears blurry your vision, you can barely see his face from where he's resting Simon's head in his lap.

You can't cum. Your balls are so full they feel like they'll explode any second, cock throbbing to finally shoot your load but no matter how harshly you thrust into the willing hole beneath you. It feels like those times Makarov would put a cock ring on you, but worse, now it's your own body refusing to give you release. You haven't earned it.

"Please-" You repeat, because that's the best your mind can come up with, your hips stuttering as overstimulation stabs your nervous system like a knife. "I-please, fuck- I can't." You force out, forcing yourself to return to the punishing pace, your pelvis starting to go numb like it would a few hours into Makarov using you as a living dildo.

Price's fingers are disgustingly gentle as they curl into your sweaty hair, making you look up at him with soft pressure on your scalp. There's no bite to his touch, no pain, it's too good for a thing like you.

You'll thank what god exists that Price seemingly understands your problem, "Oh, son." You hate the hint of sorrow in his tone, you hate yourself more for how it makes your heart pound in your ears. "Here, let me" He whispers, his other hand sliding down to your naked neck.

The lack of any collars around your neck still disgusts you every waking moment, still makes you feel wrong, bad dog. His fingers wrap around your throat. They're too loose to be a proper collar, but it lets you breathe easier, his palm warm and big enough to completely cover the 'V.M' tattooed on your skin.

"Go on, that's a good boy." He whispers, "Cum for us." Price orders, kissing you so softly it disgusts you, like heaven wrapped in thorns.

You feel fresh tears spill down your tears as the dam not letting you cum is finally torn down. You hiccup your 'thank you sir's against his lips as you spill inside Simon. You can just distantly hear Simon groan as you dump your cum into his sloppy hole, muscles weakly fluttering around your cock as you roll your hips, fucking your cum deeper into him, just the act of cumming hurting almost as much as being denied, your balls aching with every spurt of cum.

You collapse on Simon, pushing the breath out of his lungs, as boneless as him. You don't struggle when Price rolls you to your side, your cock slipping out. Cum and lube gushes out from his hole like a firehose, flooding the small space between you two, his rim red and irritated, muscles weakly fluttering around nothing as they try to close.

You try to thank him but you slur your words into his skin, feeling the muscles in his abdomen quiver as you huddle closer and wrap your arms around him, your chest pressed flush to his back. You expect him to pull away, Makarov hated being vulnerable like this longer than he needed, but all Simon does is grunt and tip his head back so you can hide your face in the space between his shoulder and neck.

"You olright Simon?" Price asks, brushing a hand through your sweaty hair for a few seconds before you feel him softly wiping away your spend from you two.

"Fuck," Simon breathes out, voice scratchy and rough. "Are we sure Makarov's human?" His hand reaches up to scratch your scalp as you kiss one of the numerous bite marks you left on him. His skin is a canvass of black and blue bruises, your bite marks starting to clot across his body. "Shit, I can't feel my legs."

His words feel like a slap in the face, and you don't notice how you let out a small whimper, your hold tightening. This is it, you'll have to let him go soon, he'll order you to leave like Makarov always did.

"None of that son." Price's voice is calm in your ear, rubbing soothing circles between your shoulder blades. "You did good."

Simon hums, his fingers running lower to scruff you, "Mhm, yeah," His words are slurred, exhaustion weighing on both of you. "Best snog I've ever had." He grumbles, and you don't doubt he won't admit it in the morning, but for the moment, as you feel yourself slowly drift off to sleep, you let yourself enjoy the praise, the warmth of human touch, the care you can feel in both of them.

This is starting to feel nice.

#gnome's tea break #gnome correspondence #cod mw2 #x reader #male reader #top male reader #trinkets from the hoard #captain john price #simon ghost riley x reader #cod simon riley #simon ghost riley x male reader #captain john price x male reader #captain john price x reader #Hound-reader #Good Dog fic

[waywardstation]

Heart Full, Bowl Empty would be a lot shorter if Irida would simply let herself and her clan be open about their problems.

Ingo: Yeah ok maybe the Pearl Clan’s struggling a little with food right now

Akari, having immediately run all the way to the Pearl Clan settlement the second Ingo said that:

#ref for fic #honestly made this because I took a step back to see just how many collected items I hoard in my chest #and thought man I need to get rid of this stuff #GIVE IT TO THE PEARL CLAN #this stuff is realistically rotting in my chest give it to someone who NEEDS IT

[professionalanime]

Haven’t drawn in 2 weeks cuz ive been neck deep in moshang brainrot,,,,, i like that this trope comes back a lot of sqh being confusedly pulled into cuddles tho ahah

#crying cuz its their right hands in tthe image but theyre married for sure #love all the accidental engagement//sqh doesnt realize theyve been married//mbj been flirting for thte past 5 years fics #give me more #moshang #sqh #shang qinghua #mbj #mobei jun #svsss #scum villlain #scum villian self saving system #give me fic recs ill hoard them #my art

[domokunrainbowkinz]

Anharion and Sarcean sketches 😌

#my art #sketches #dark rise #sarcean #anharion #idk I guess 2024 is the year I start posting all my doodles and sketches on tumblr instead of hoarding and hiding them #anyways welcome to the delusional part of my brain that knows they have matching earrings sarcean told me himself #im really regressing into my brainrot era fr #it comes without warning one day I sit down and read a book or watch something and next thing I know it’s wormed its way into my brain #and is making holes like a prion #like I was working ystd and my brain cooked up an entire minific about these 2 getting matching earrings #is this what’s gonna get me to start writing fic sgain #dark heir

[smileweakandwrong]

He looked like he might argue, try to convince her to let him stay, but instead he gave a quick nod and said, “You have a radio, right? You’ll call if you need anything?”

“I do, but what I need right now is to be alone and away from…everything.” Nancy got out of the car carrying her pack and the bundle of her belongings. She didn't bother putting on her shoes.

Before he drove off, Jonathan called out to her, “We’re all still here for you, you know that, right?”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be,” she told him flatly and started the half mile walk to the cabin as the sky above began to change to the lighter shade of dark that signified morning.

--- Or, Nancy spends some time alone after the events of the previous night before facing her friends, family and Robin again.

-------------------------------------------------------

Nancy is going through it in this one and @sweepy-stringbean captured it perfectly 💜

#ronance #ronance fic #nancy has powers fic #nancy wheeler #robin buckley #sweepy stringbean #ronance collaboration #nancy wheeler fanart #my commissioned treasure hoard keeps growing