#polka dot man imagine

[embodyingchaos]

Hiiiii can I request something fluff with abner krill like maybe dating headcanons ( Ik it’s pretty basic but I’m a sucker for them 😭) honestly anything that’s fluffy and cute lol

❥ hi there, darling! MY BABY ABNER KRILL AAAAAA ofc i can write dating hcs for THE polka-dot man! i hope you enjoy them! (I'M SORRY THAT THEY'RE SORTA LONG)

dating polka-dot man a.k.a abner krill headcanons warnings: mentions of abuse, panic attacks, ptsd, a bit suggestive at the end HEHEH

OKAY OKAY SO, i would say that abner would definitely not be the one to ask you out first, and if he did, he would be a stuttering mess like “w-would y-you maybe think about.. going on a date?” and you’d be like oh yeah totally, with who? and then he’ll be like “with me” AND HE’D WHISPER IT REALLY SOFTLY AND YOU’D BE LIKE “OH- OH MY GOD YES” HEEHEH

and then every where you guys go for your dates, he would overthink every little thing, like did he pick the right place? did he order the right meal? do you like this kind of thing or should he have asked you where you wanna go and you’ll answer the same thing every time “anywhere is good enough as long as it’s with you” AND HE’D BE BEET RED LIKE BLUSHING CRAZY

abner would definitely be tense for the first few dates before slowly loosening up and relaxing, but even that will take a while

dating abner might be tiring at times, he constantly questions why you’re with someone like him, he’ll constantly be worried that you’ll leave him, but all in all, you’re willing to reassure him with words of affirmation

abner definitely calls you babe, or baby, or just by your name, he doesn’t strike me as a nick name type

though, if you call him any nickname like darling, sweetheart, my love, HE WILL MELT, BE IT IN YOUR ARMS OR ONTO THE FLOOR, HE’LL GET FLUSTERED AND HIDE HIS FACE IN ANY WAY AAAAAA

abner is definitely a little spoon, he feels safe and comfortable in your arms, and every time he’s having a panic attack or ptsd hits, the best way to calm him is to embrace him

he would get nightmares in the middle of the night about his mother abusing him all over again but it would be okay because you're there to hold him tight and tell him that she can't hurt him anymore

he would do the same for you if you had a nightmare or a troubling past, he wouldn't know what to say, but i'd feel like he'd memorise the things you say to him and then repeat them back to you, because he learned from the best ofc

i’d think he gets a little bit jealous, but he trusts you, but yk when insecurity hits, everything just gets a little foggy, he doesn’t want to tell you because he doesn’t want to be a nuisance but you can tell, you’d always kiss his cheek when you know he’s feeling a tad bit insecure and that brightens him up real quick

abner will protect you in any way he can, even if he knows he isn’t that physically strong to win in a fight, he’ll defend you and your honour any time

though usually it’s you who protects him by standing up to people who call him names or are rude to him, he has to calm you down and pull you away so you’d stop cussing at them

i am not including when he’s put in belle reve bc in my headcanons, he doesn’t get sent to prison for murdering his abusive and insane mother bc she definitely had it coming

I WOULD LIKE TO HEADCANON THAT THERE WAS THIS ONE TIME YOU TRIED ON HIS POLKA-DOT MAN SUIT BECAUSE YOU WERE CURIOUS HOW IT WOULD LOOK ON YOU, and he walks in on you and he’s like :0 jaw-dropped, eyes wide open, and you’re like “oh you’re back! i wanted to see how your suit looked on me! i think i look pretty cooOOL-!” yeah, uh, you’re way too attractive for your own good, good luck for the night

#polka dot man #suicide squad 2 #abner krill #abner krill x reader #abner krill headcanons #abner krill oneshot #abner krill imagines #gender neutral #polka dot man x reader #polka dot man headcanons #suicide squad 2 headcanons #reader insert #dating headcanons #abner krill masterlist #polka dot man masterlist #david dastmalchian #david dastmalchian x reader #david dastmalchian masterlist

[copper-skulls]

grillbies

feat: sometimes i am kinda sad the first chapter of TD does not involve Grillby's POV, so we don't get to see him be on the brink of imploding internally while externally the closest he gets to emotional is a snide comment about "when you see reason"

#and then the pan threat. but the pan threat is warranted hfajkh #two deaths related drawings #grillby #undertale #fanart #traditional art #gaster #ALSO every time I re-read the first chapter and remember the apron I can't help but to laugh at it a little #everything's bad. this man also has a polka dot apron. #ALSO. imagine you're helping a sleep deprived friend and then you lift him off the ground and he almost slides out of your arms bcs he's se #mi-liquid. and you just gotta process that.

[just-an-enby-lemon]

Cluemaster: Hey, bro, I know I never call...

Kiteman: You did drunk call me that one time.

Cluemaster: I already said I was sorry for spreading around that you were in love with your kite and calling you to brag about it. As you said I was hella drunk and angry your weird ass podcast somehow now has the same level of fans as my old gameshow. Who the fuck cares that much about kites? Or C list vilany?

Kiteman: Did you just call to remind me why I hate you?

Cluemaster: Of course not, Chucky boy, your my favorite lil bro.

Kiteman: Arthur... I'm your only brother.

Cluemaster: Yeah? You're still my favorite.

Kiteman: Okay. Fine. What do you want?

Cluemaster: You're good with kids right?

Kiteman: Oh do you want me to babysit little Steph? I haven't see her since she was a baby! That'll be soo much fun!

Cluemaster: Oh, no, no. She is too old for a babysitter. I kindda called 'cause I need your advice.

Kiteman: Sure. Go on.

Cluemaster: How would you stop a prank war between your teen daugther and your bussiness partner that happens to be living at your house?

Kiteman: Woah. Define prank war?

Cluemaster: Like they just being annoying with each other... like non-stop Shrek music and painting one of her walls green?

Kiteman: Are you working with a child, Artie?

Cluemaster: No. Childrem are not really good at puzzle robberies.

Kiteman: So who the hell is in a prank war with your fourteen year old daugther? Is it that Polka Dot weirdo?

Cluemaster: ... Riddler.

Kiteman: Be honest, Arthur.

Cluemaster: I am!

Kiteman: Why the fuck would he work with you? Didn't he like was brought on to one of your trials and tried to sue you for being a copycat?

Cluemaster: No idea. I don't really remember all my trials.

Kiteman: Fair. Still isn't he like an actual treat? Like Batman actually tries to be always involved in his crimes instead of just sending a Robin or a cop kindda treat? Or hangs out with Cooblepot and Harley Quinn and fucking Catwoman and even Scarecrow and Joker kindda treat?

Cluemaster: Yes, so what?

Kiteman: He is waaay above your league. How the fuck do you got him to work with you?

Cluemaster: He is working for me because he recognizes my genius.

Kiteman: *sarcasm* Yeah, sure. At least it explains why I've been hearing that your plans don't totally suck anymore.

Cluemaster: Will you help me or not?

Kiteman: Anything for little Steph. But seriusly bro, the guy is a mentally instable killer, he is real Arkham loonie, A-lister and all this shit are you sure is safe to have him living with you? Specially if he and Stephanie are fighting!? She is just a kid! What if this prank war thing escalates and next thing she is in saw type death trap or something?

Cluemaster: Well than help me not to! I can't just kick him out, do you know how much I've been proffiting later?

Kiteman: And also he is an instable killer that used to hate you and wouldn't react well to being kicked out?

Cluemaster: Yeah, this too. Look I think you're overestimating the guy. He is smart and all and he can take a punch but I could take him out real easy in a one on one. He screamed like a little girl when he found a roach in the kitchem. I think I'll be fine.

Kiteman: Sure, you do you.... Maybe.... you could just.... help them find something they have in common? A TV show they like or something. It used yo work with us. They will bond over the thing and forget they hate each other for a bit.

Cluemaster: See was it that hard to help me?

*Chuck hangs up*

[Three months later]

Cluemaster: Chuck! I need help!

Kiteman: Can you call in another time? I'm bowlling with the guys, Calendar Man and Condiment King cannot win a second time, one weird rap about their love conquering all was ENOUGHT.

Cluemaster: Is about the whole prank war between Nygma and Stephanie thing.

Kiteman: Oh. So I guess my advice didn't work.

Cluemaster: No, no, it did. It worked way to well actually.

Kiteman: *worried* That sounds bad.

Cluemaster: Yeah... it happened that the thing they had in common was that they really hate me.

#this might be the start of a brown family au #because i have a lot of feelings about them #for me kiteman is actually a pretty chill down to earth guy besides the whole kite crimes thing #and instead of the tragic backstory were his kid died in the dumbest riddler plan ever #he just always wanted to have a family but he is too akward and has some nd coding and didn't had the chance yet #so he wants to bond with steph because she is his niece and all #but he and arthur don't have a good or stable relationship and he haven't been there for steph and she doesn't even know about him #so he is just afraid of talking to her #he and arthur started fighting because their parents divorced when they were 13/15 and they stayed with different parents #also while i preffer charlie a lot Cluemaster is a B Lister here while Kiteman is a C/D Lister #Kiteman is friends with all Gotham C-listers with the exception of Polka Dot Man because they just don't hang in the same places #they have some misinformation about each other and think the other is a freak but they would be pals if they meet #cluemaster hangs with b listers and non gothamite c listers #chuck actually got relieved after the last bit cause he imagine grooming or steph becaming a killer or smt real bad #he actually likes Riddler a bit after that because sibbling rivalry and because he is starting to realize Arthur is a shitty dad #Eddie did try to sue Arthur in Arthur's first trial #he was called to testimony why Arthur shouldn't go to Arkham and it was when he discovered that you can't copyright a criminal mo #it was also his first time on trial cause some rogues are considered unfit to stand trial and he is one of them #riddler #edward nygma #stephanie brown #arthur brown #cluemaster #kiteman #chuck brown #cheatday is @sillymanwithocs ship I'm just borowing it

[professionallydeadinside]

Outfit reminded me of Abner krill

GO WHITE BOY GO!!!!

#he's dancing as awkwardly as you can possibly imagine #abner krill #polka dot man #the suicide squad #my art #fanart #answered

[gators-aid]

decode (pt. 5) - toji f. x reader

masterlist

part four | part six

you and toji fushiguro have been in an on-again-off-again relationship all throughout high school. over the summer break after graduation, you find out you're pregnant. too bad toji has already skipped town after your last breakup.

tags: fem!reader, americanized setting, non sorcerer universe, 00's setting, reader is megumi's mom, exes to lovers (eventually), their relationship is toxic rn, not beta read we die like toji :(

wc: 2.9k

Present

“Please make your decision quickly. I think the fuckin’ cops are looking for me.” He says. His voice sounds deeper than you remembered. You thought you had imagined it in the diner, or that his change in tone was a consequence of his anger toward his brother, but there was no denying it here. You glaze over that comment about law enforcement apparently searching for him.

He was leaning slightly out the window of his truck, etching toward you so that you could hear him over the sound of the surrounding traffic. You feel Megumi tug on your jacket, so you look down at where he’s tucked in. 

You always knew he looked just like his father, your mind tormented you with that fact every waking moment, but it was hitting you now. Here you had the framework to sit and compare their faces from more than memory alone. 

Needless to say, all of the pictures you had of Toji had been destroyed after you found out he left town. All of the clothes he had given you or left in your room had been donated when you moved out of your mother’s house. You had no physical reminders of his existence aside from the child the two of you shared and the golden angel necklace that sat tucked away at the back of your dresser. It was sitting against the back of the drawer, tucked away in a pair of polka dot socks that you never wore. You couldn’t bring yourself to let go of that one.

“Momma, that man is swearing.” Megumi says in his sweet voice. You grimace. Is this how you wanted your son to meet his father? In response, you rub his back and try to muster a smile. “I know, baby.” You whisper to him. “We can talk about swearing later.” Megumi had taken “Don’t say ‘fuck’, you’re only four” to mean, “anyone that swears, including adults, should be chastised.” You would have to redo that lecture. 

You really, really shouldn’t get in the truck. You should carry on with your life and pretend that all of this never happened. That Toji isn’t in the flesh in front of you, looking more handsome than you had ever remembered. Looking just like his fucking son. So much like his son that it felt like you were being taunted. He could never deny Megumi again once he saw his face. Even people who weren’t close to you could see the resemblance. 

It’s cold, you justify to yourself as you adjust Megumi in your arms and stand up from the bench. We’ll get home quicker, you think as you round the front of his truck towards the passenger side. You’ve run out of excuses by the time you’re opening the door and sliding in his truck. 

There are countless reasons why you shouldn’t have even looked up while you heard him call you. For starters, the fact that he just said law enforcement is allegedly in pursuit. He’s been back in your life for less than an hour and you’re already doing stupid shit.

What the fuck. You keep Megumi tucked into your chest tight as you sit down in the truck. Megumi is facing his father, trying to get a read on the man his mother had broken the rules for. 

“Okay baby,” You had said to Megumi merely weeks prior, “If a stranger asks you to get in the car with them, what do we say?” You ask him, holding his little hand in yours. 

“My momma said no!” He says. The two of you were sitting on your living room floor, with a blanket under you and watching The Little Mermaid on DVD. You had to save costs wherever you could, and those costs did not include cable. After watching Ariel go into Prince Eric’s palace-house within the first couple of hours being a human, you felt it appropriate to give Megumi the kidnapping talk. He takes a bite of the apple you had cut for him earlier. 

“And what if the stranger said, ‘I’ll give you Pokemon cards if you get in the car’?” You ask him. “I don’t even like Pokemon anymore!” He says proudly, in response to the hypothetical stranger. “What? Since when?” You asked, slightly horrified that you weren’t as attuned to your 4-year old’s interests as you thought. “Since the stranger asked me, momma.” He replied simply. 

This exchange must be very odd for Megumi. You had done your best to raise him right. The best that you could with the resources you had. You tried to teach him hard rules. Don’t talk to strangers, wash your hands before you eat, for the love of god please do not stick forks in the outlets. Now the ‘no strangers’ one was out of the window. It would be tough to explain this. Another lecture to redo.

Toji’s got his eyes on the rearview mirror, looking back at the diner. “Jinichi called the cops on me, the fucking asshole,” He mummers that last part to himself. “So where am I taking you?” Blunt and to the point like always. You give him your address before you could even think about it. Megumi’s tugging on you again to indicate he heard that comment, but you’re slightly out of it. 

There’s a big tear that exposes the cushion of the seat you’re on. You had left that there a lifetime ago when you drunkenly stole Toji’s knife and acted out a confrontation between you and a random girl that was hitting on him. That was one of the many nights that ended in laughter instead of tears.

 It smells exactly the same, he still uses the black ice scent for the little tree hanging from his rearview mirror. He’s still got his CD collection strapped to the sun visor on the driver’s side of the truck. It’s grown since the last time you saw it, expanding to the passenger side sun visor as well. There’s still a mysterious dark stain that you don’t feel comfortable speculating on the nature of in the floorboard. Evidently, he never managed to get it out. 

It’s too much. You have to fight to hold back tears. You had told yourself to never give an ounce to this man again. No tears, no anger, nothing. You had broken that in the diner earlier. It would not happen again.

You should have told him to take you to your mom’s house, so he wouldn’t have any kind of access to you or Megumi. Why would you give him your own address? How fucking stupid. 

It’s silent in the truck. You weren’t going to say anything, you might burst into tears if you opened your mouth. You had sat Megumi on your right side, away from Toji. He was pressed in between you in the door so that you wouldn’t have to be any closer to the man than necessary.

 You still don’t know if Toji had gotten a look at him yet. You take a moment to study the man. He’s got both hands on the steering wheel, sitting pin-straight in his seat. His eyes are very pointedly on the road, as if he’s trying not to look over. If the whites on his knuckles were indicative, and after spending years with him, you knew they were, Toji had already figured it out. 

After that call four years ago, you had a lot of time to ponder Toji’s reaction to you telling him about Megumi. Logically, you knew he was doing what he always did. Avoiding it because he didn’t wanna deal with the prospect of it. The same way he cheated on you to try and get you to run like you should have. The same way he used to pick a fight just to see if that would be your final straw. He denied Megumi because he had some weird psychological avoidance issue. 

Emotionally, you couldn’t see it as anything other than him being selfish while you gave your life to your child. Literally, that’s what it was. 

You were too busy looking at him to notice you had pulled into your apartment complex. 

“Um..” He clears his throat. “Which building do I drop you off at?” Drop you off. You scoff out loud. Of course. He finds out the kid really is his, and he’s avoiding us again. 

“The second one.” You say. You don’t know what you expected. For him to immediately pull Gumi into a hug and move in with you within the hour? Yeah fucking right. 

“Mama, can I play with the Christmas tree when we get home?” Megumi had asked you as your apartment came into view. ‘Christmas tree’ was one of his favorite games to play, where he got all the pots and pans from the cabinets and stacked them on top of each other to make a “Christmas tree.” It was a very messy game that required you to rewash all of your dishes when you were done, so it was a rule that he had to ask for permission before playing. The game had started when last year, tips were slow and you were late on your electric bill. You had already asked your mom for help that month, and refused to do it again. This, of course, meant that there was no money for a christmas tree. After Megumi’s December birthday and the one christmas present you could afford, you had to find some way to explain to Megumi why he couldn’t have a tree like the one at grandma’s house. “We have a better one.” You had told him, “One that you can play with all year long.” 

Needless to say you had cried yourself to sleep that night. 

“We’ll see, Megumi.” You say. The truck comes to a stop in front of your building, and without a word you’re grabbing Megumi out of the truck and slamming the door shut. Not a word said to Toji, not even a glance directed his way. 

It had started sprinkling rain on your drive over. This morning, your mom had called you to let you know there was a flood warning for the next city over. You usually didn’t take those entirely too seriously, waving her off when she had asked you to bring Megumi and spend the night at her house. 

The apartment is two stories tall with stairs on the outside, so you hold Megumi’s hand in yours as you slowly traverse up the stairs. He was skilled enough to walk up them on his own, but after an incident where he took a small fall down them, you were slightly paranoid. 

By the time you’re unlocking your apartment door, you notice that you hadn’t yet heard Toji’s truck pull away, so you glance back to see him still sitting there, waiting for you to get inside. For a moment, the two of you lock eyes. You can feel your heart drop as you usher Gumi in the house and close the door behind you. Don’t give him an ounce. 

You hope and pray that that is the last time you will ever have to think about Toji Fushiguro. The last time until Megumi gets old enough to realize his last name is different from yours. The last time until he asks you why all his friends in school have two parents and he only has one. The last time until he gets old enough to ask why you and his dad never made it work. Until you have to hold him as he cries and wonders why Toji never wanted him.

You let Megumi play Christmas Tree so you can lock yourself in the bathroom for a moment to compose yourself. 

By the time you get Megumi bathed, fed, and ready for bed, it’s eight at night, and the rain outside has been pouring heavily for a couple hours. Gojo had texted you to let you know that the tips had been good that day, but you had a feeling he was lying so he could slip a bit of his parent’s money into what he “owed you.” The diner was never busy on the Monday lunch shift. 

You had made spaghetti that night, a common occurrence in your home and something you were grateful Megumi hadn’t gotten tired of yet. Occasionally, you would get the kitchen guys to sneak you a meal in a togo box to offset grocery costs and eat something different every once in a while. Nanami was one of the cooler managers, which was why you were more comfortable asking that Megumi sit in the diner while you worked that day, but he was not one to let free food slide. 

The night was surprisingly peaceful once Megumi was distracted by his toys and tonight’s DVD movie, Toy Story, which Shoko had gotten him for his birthday. You were distracted by cleaning every single pot and pan you had after Megumi was done playing with them.

Once the two of you sat down for dinner, the inevitable questions came, and Megumi had asked you about the encounter with Toji earlier that night. 

“Mommy, why did those two guys at your job,” he took a breath in between his sentences and spaghetti, “start hitting each other, and then why did you got in one of their cars?”

That was a long conversation about how some brothers (you had let that slip), don’t get along, and how you had already known Toji, though you didn’t say from where or why. Thankfully, Megumi was more curious about why brothers and sisters fight than why his mother got into this random man’s truck. You would definitely have to revisit the “stranger danger” talk. 

It’s about 11 at night when you hear a booming knock at your door. It had pulled you out of your “almost-asleep” daze on the couch. You had already put Megumi to bed by then, and were taking a couple hours to yourself before you went to bed too. You prayed the sound hadn’t woken him. 

Whoever it is knocks again, this time harder and faster. Now that you have more mental capacity to process that, someone uninvited is knocking at your door at an inappropriate time of night for a single mother, you dash across your living room to grab the baseball bat you keep by the door. You’ve never had to defend yourself and your son in this capacity, and suddenly the adrenaline kicks in, and you squeeze the wooden slugger to center yourself.

The only light in the room is coming from the TV, playing the play menu of Clueless on repeat. You must have been asleep longer than you thought. Hoping not to be seen through your shadow by the window, you slowly crane your neck up toward the peep-hole of your apartment door. What you see is the last thing you expected.

Of course it’s Toji. Of course he wouldn’t just leave you alone. You’re such a fucking idiot. 

For a second you contemplate on whether or not you should open the door, but when he bangs again, somehow even louder, you fear that he won’t only wake up Megumi, but the entire apartment complex.

You put the bat back down and unlock the door, pulling it open slowly so that he would only be able to see half of your body from the angle he’s positioned at. He has his hand leaning on the doorframe, and his figure is hunched over to the point he has to lift his head to look you in the eyes. When he does, you realize what this is. He’s drunk.

His eyes are bloodshot red and watery. He’s soaked from head to toe, he had clearly walked through the rain from wherever he was coming from, or stood out in it for so long that he was drenched. He had a bottle of vodka in his hand that wasn’t against the doorframe, hanging precariously from his grasp like he would drop it at any moment. You couldn’t see how much was in it from here, but you knew he had to have drank quite a bit for him to be in this state. 

It’s only when he looks you up and down that you realize you’re only in an old t-shirt and underwear. If this were anyone else, you would’ve squirmed under their gaze, maybe ran to go throw something on, but with Toji, as dumb as it sounded, you couldn’t care less. 

“What are you doing here?” You ask him.

He says nothing, just looks you up and down again and takes a shot from the bottle. 

“Did you drive here?” He nods. Well that’s not fucking good. 

You wait for him to say something, to explain why he felt entitled to knocking on your door in the middle of the night soaking wet with nothing to say. Or maybe you’re waiting for him to explain why he left you in the first place without saying a word. Maybe you’re waiting for him to explain why he never even felt the need to come check if Megumi was his. You’re waiting for a lot of explanations. But you don’t get a single one.

In a voice that can only best be described as broken, he softly slurs out, “You… you named him Megumi?”

very... very sorry for the wait. that semester ended up kicking my ass. no excuses i am very sorry D;

if you wanna be off the taglist lmk

comment to be added to the taglist

taglist: @mechalily @nialiuwanderlust @xo-evangeline @ilovebattinson @cherrypieyourface @amaiyasha @erensslut @heyauntieeee @verypeanuttrash @vlsquuu @ryuv1i @tqd4455 @blkmystery @planetlina444 @mimiemie @queendessi24 @just-pure-trash @baji-keisukes-wife @sylvermoon

#jjk x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #toji x y/n #toji x you #toji fushiguro

[hornyhornyhimbos]

pov: eddie really doesn't know when to keep his hands off you... even in public... even at lover's lake ♡

18+ duh, perv!eddie x afab!reader, fingering f!receiving, exhibitionism a lil bit, nicknames (baby, sweetheart, sweet girl), nipple sucking, explicit language, implied smut at the end, 1.3K words, color coded speaker tags, shoutout to @dungeons-are-too-cold for recommending this concept and for beta reading!

filthy fridays | ask box

you loved eddie, but man could he be an asshole...

the two of you had spent the day at lover's lake, and the day had so far been peaceful. you'd started out with a picnic on the dock, where he'd brought some of wayne munson's famous sweet tea and had made your favorite sandwiches, cut into cute little heart shapes, cheesy bastard that he was. you shared the chocolate-covered strawberries you'd brought while lying out in the sun, just enjoying the lake all to yourselves.

it wasn't until you peeled off your—or rather, his—oversized tee shirt and revealed the bathing suit you were sporting that you were reminded of just how much of an ass he could be.

you'd worn a little green number, a polka dotted ensemble that left little to the imagination. you tied the bottoms in cute little bows at your hips, and the second you pulled off your tee shirt, eddie was practically foaming at the mouth.

before he could get his hands on you, you jumped into the water, swimming away in a fit of giggles. he followed suit, tossing off his own shirt and jumping into the lake, diving after you with the ease of an olympic swimmer.

it wasn't long before eddie caught up to you, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you up to the surface with him. he was all laughs as he pulled you in for a kiss, his fingers meeting your stomach with soft tickles.

"eddie, no!" you said through giggles, your limbs flailing and throwing water everywhere. droplets hit eddie in the eyes, but he was unrelenting, spreading tickles all over your bare skin.

his fingers drifted over a particularly sensitive part of your body, causing you to jerk in response, your leg brushing in between his own. that was when you registered that this little tickle fight was driven by something else.

you rolled your eyes, turning away from your chronically horny boyfriend, but he was quick to respond, wrapping his arms around your middle and holding you close. his hardening cock rested against your ass, and you couldn't say it wasn't turning you on.

still, you managed to ask, "are you always horny?" to which he responded with a soft kiss to the dip of your neck, trailing his lips along the string of your bikini top.

"maybe," he answered, and you could hear the smirk he was sporting. "but how am i to blame for it? i can't help you're the sexiest girl alive."

you hated that his words made you blush, you hated that with one sentence he could have you turned on, but mostly, you hated that he knew exactly how to distract you. because somewhere, between the hickies he was leaving on your neck and the rutting of his hips against you, you failed to notice his hands slipping down to the fastenings of your bottoms.

"eddie?" you called in a panic as the cold water hit your now uncovered core, a rush of both anxiety and arousal flowing through your body.

"yes, baby?" he answered, fake innocence coating his tone. his lips trailed down your neck to your shoulder while his hands trailed from your hips toward your center.

"eddie, where are my bottoms?!" you all but screamed, racing to swim away but his hold on you was just tight enough to keep you against him.

"i have no clue what you're talking about," he said, a chuckle threatening to fall after the words.

you tried to squirm away, but eddie had other plans, one of his hands coming up to meet your cunt, his thumb swiping over your sensitive bundle of nerves.

"ed-" his name got caught in your breath as he teased your folds with a finger, his thumb showing no mercy to your clit.

his tone was clearly taunting as he said, "if your bottoms fell off, why don't you go try to find them?"

your head turned to face him, mouth falling into an open 'o' as his finger finally slipped inside you. "you're such a- fuck- asshole."

eddie tutted against the shell of your ear, his finger crooking deeper inside you. "now, that's no way to treat me when i'm making you feel so," one pump of his finger, "damn," a second flex, "good," a third.

you fell nearly limp against him, moans falling from your lips as he continued working the digit inside you. eddie quickly accompanied the digit with a second, soon brushing them against that sweet spot that would have you falling apart in no time.

he kissed the crook of your neck, licking softly over one of the bruises he'd left earlier. "do you wanna cum, sweetheart?"

you nodded, whined, writhed against his fingers, anything to show him just how much you wanted to. "please," you whimpered, teeth clamping down on your bottom lip.

"go ahead, sweet girl," he whispered, taking your skin between his teeth while slipping a third finger inside you, "go ahead and cum for me, yeah?"

at his instruction, you were falling apart, his fingers drawing an absolutely euphoric orgasm out of you. eddie knew each and every way to make you come undone, and while you wanted to be mad about the swimsuit situation, you definitely couldn't be mad at the way his fingers felt inside you right now.

his name fell off your tongue like your lifeline. eddie rutted against your ass, trying to find some form of relief from his ever-growing erection, leaving moans in your ear that were only coaxing on your climax. "shit, baby," he said with a particularly hard rut, "y' should wear that swimsuit more often. feel how hard you've got me?"

his comment brought you back to reality, immediately finding the force to swim away and search for the missing bottoms. luckily, they hadn't floated too far away, but in a momentary lapse of judgment, you were hit with an idea while you were under the water. your hands flew to eddie's swim trunks, pulling them down and immediately swimming back to shore.

"you're dead when i catch you!" he shouted through laughter, wading through the water and attempting to hold up his shorts at the same time.

"you started it!" you shouted back. you ran over to the van, holding the small piece of fabric in front of you as best you could, just in case anyone were to spot you. you made a quick attempt at tying them back on, but not before eddie made his way over to you.

in a swift movement, he had both of your wrists pinned above your head, your bikini bottoms falling to the pavement below. he clicked his tongue, a disapproving look on his face. "very naughty of you to run away from me like that, sweetheart," he reprimanded, holding you against the frame of the van.

your stomach twisted with want as you noticed the dark look in his eyes, excitement and arousal dripping through your veins. still, you found yourself arguing, "oh, i'm the one that's naughty? that's something coming from you, perv."

his lips met the dip of your breasts, eliciting a moan from you. "i don't seem to recall you arguing too much about the way i made you feel back there," he mentioned between kisses, his hand coming up to palm at you through the green material. "in fact, the way your pussy was sucking me in, i'd say she was upset i didn't give her more."

he pulled one of your breasts out of the bikini top, his lips trailing from the valley of your chest to your hardened nipple. a moan escaped your lips as he suckled the bud, his palm moving to cup your neglected boob.

your head fell back against the van, your thighs clenching together with every movement of his tongue. "please, eddie," you all but begged, "give me more."

with one swift movement, he had your legs wrapped around his waist, fiddling quickly with the door of his van, desperate to lay you down and fuck you right. "ask and ye shall receive, sweetheart."

-> taglist: @dungeons-are-too-cold @rupsmorge @esoltis280

#blurb #blurbs #drabble #drabbles #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson blurbs #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson drabbles #eddie munson smut #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things imagine #stranger things imagines #stranger things blurb #stranger things blurbs #stranger things drabble #stranger things drabbles #stranger things smut #fanfic #fanfiction #smut #filthy fridays #hornyhornyhimbos filthy fridays #hornyhornyhimbos

[azehearts]

Are you, are you coming to the tree?

Where they strung up a man, they say, who murdered three

Strange things did happen here,

No stranger would it be

If we met at midnight in the hanging tree

This is how I imagined them to look like when I first read the book. And OMG! The movie's here! Everything is almost the same of how I pictured it.

Lucy Gray - The dress is more of a 1930s inspired look because I imagined Snow's time to be almost the same equivalent era. And it's a bit of an inspiration from Katniss' reaping dress. The rainbow polka dots is supposed to be snake like patterns and there's rainbow ruffles on the edge of the dress.

Coriolanus Snow - His outfit was originally supposed to be dark blue, but it felt like red fits him more. I have to admit, when I got to draw Snow, I accidentally saw a spoiler/behind the scene picture of their uniform for the movie. So I guess that also affected my color choice haha. Luckily, the pic was super blurry. And I instead based of the details from his clothes in the Hunger Games trilogy.

#the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #lucy gray baird #coriolanus snow #hunger games #hanging tree #fanart

[kjmalfoy]

Polka Dotted Dress• 18+ Content

Warnings- Adultery, Pantie Kink, Size Kink, Kitchen Sex, Mentions of Breeding, Unprotected Sex, Pet Names, Slight Degrading and Praising.

Summary- Tainted by the thought of your husband cheating with his assistant; You let the sinful thoughts of you new neighbor creep into your mind as you watch him tend to his lawn.

Pairings- Neighbor!Bucky Barnes & Housewife!Reader

Word count- 2.4k

Author’s Note- I got my inspiration to write this from another author— please check their stories out. @heavysoldat 💓

You sat on the rocking chair on your front porch; twirling the glass of fresh lemonade in your hand. You watched your new neighbor, James; eyes thirsting over the beads of sweat trickling down his chiseled abs.

Your hands moved on their own, your palms resting over the polka dotted fabric that covered your thighs. Your body softened into the wooden chair, gripping the chubbiness of your thighs; wishing it was James.

Your tongue rolled over your lips unknowingly, watching closely as he stretched his biceps; the thick muscles flexing in the California sun. You felt disgusting thirsting over a man- other than your husband.

But, all you could think about was sweet revenge. The image of your husband screwing another girl was drilled into the deepest parts of your brain; burning your eyes every time you thought about it.

You wondered how he was in bed; wondering if he could fuck you better than your husband ever could. The thought of you creaming around his cock made your body temperature rise; the dampness between your legs growing as the illusions of James kept replaying in your mind.

You watched him set aside the weed wacker; pulling the beige-colored shirt off his shoulders, wiping it down his chest- collecting any sweat droplets. You gulped down your lemonade, nearly creaming at the sight of him.

Without thought, you stood up. You made your way over to your white fence, hoping it was close enough for James to hear you. You wore a virtuous smile, moistening your pink lips. “Hello, James.” You said above your normal tone.

James looked over at you, a gracious smile spreading across his handsome face. “Y/n, It’s nice to see you again.”

The way he said your name made you weak in the knees; your knee-length polka-dotted dress just barely covering your buckling knees. “I know you’re probably hot with all this manual labor, would you like a fresh cup of lemonade?”

A sweet smile wiped over James’ face, “I’d love some, Doll.”

*

You stood on your tippy toes, reaching for one of the many glass cups you had. James sat behind the kitchen island, snickering softly as he watched you struggle. “Need some help?” He asked, that thick voice making you shudder.

“Nope. Just sit and relax.” You said sweetly, closing the wooden cabinet; placing the glass cup on the counter. You opened the refrigerator door, reaching for the fresh pitcher of lemonade.

You poured a decent amount in the pint glass, leaving the pitcher on the counter. “Here ya go, James.” You said, setting the cup in front of him.

James gulped down the confectionary lemonade, sucking his teeth as he set the cup back down. He wiped off the excess juice with the white napkin; licking his lips to savor the taste. You chuckled humbly, reaching for the half-empty pitcher; offering James another glass.

“I’m all good. We should probably save some for your husband.” James chuckled, balling up the stained napkin, placing it on the pure marble countertops.

You nibbled on your bottom lip, staring blankly ahead of you. Such a simple statement made your thick nerves twist in your stomach, the imagine of your husband and his assistant poisoning your brain stems.

Your shoulder puffed up, your chest rising as you inhaled sharply. You felt your throat swell up, your tweaked out emotions gradually getting the best of you. The tips of your fingers pinched the ruffled fabric, the knuckles of your hands turning white from your tight grip.

The blankness of your eyes looked at James, forcing yourself— using all your strength to swallow down your tears that were soon threatening to fall. Your husband didn’t deserve it— didn’t deserve the satisfaction of pulling your strings.

You replaced your blank, saddened expression with a beaming smile, “He’s working late today, he isn’t much of a lemonade person anyway.” You clarified, propping your elbows up on the counter.

“That’s a shame, it was truly delicious,” James said, patting the countertop as he hoisted himself to his feet. “I should get going though, I still have some things to unpack.”

Your back quickly straightened, your hands stretching over the kitchen’s island. You grabbed onto James’ arm, feeling his biceps tense at your grasp. “Uh, sorry.” You quickly dropped your grip, your face softened at his questioning gaze.

James framed straightened out, his steel eyes looking down at you like you were his prey. “Something wrong, Y/n?” His voice pierced through you, snapping you away from your train of thought.

You covered your mouth, coughing into your palm; clearing your throat. “It’s gets awfully lonely, keep me company?” You looked up at James, wearing an innocent expression; but the glimmer in your eyes hinting at something else.

James studied you, focusing on your delicate facial expression; and the glimmer in your eyes. He watched you play with the ruffles on your dress and the way you picked at your chipped nail polish. His body inched closer to yours; practically giving off his body heat.

His tongue rolled over his lips, his pearly white teeth slowly sinking into the plush skin that protected his lips. “Forgive me, but I believe I’m getting the wrong impression.” He said sinfully, his smirk widening as your cheeks became bothered.

You closed the distance between your bodies, reaching for his broad hand and parking it on your waist. James’ eyes widened, a guilty hunger taking over his mind. “No. Nothing wrong about the impression I’m giving.” You spoke softly, your voice just barely above a hum.

You felt his hand twitch, his fingers scarcely touching the fabric of your dress. “Are you sure? I don’t want to be the person that ruins happy households.” James said, thinking of the consequences you clearly ignored.

You stood on your tippy toes, just hardly coming face to face with James. You perked your lips up, grazing his; “This happy household was ruined the moment he put his dick inside someone else.”

James’ nostrils flared, a sharp inhale puffing out his chest. His colossal hands latched onto your waist, his fingertips digging into your polka dot dress. He pulled your body into his, your chest rubbing against his bare body. “Tell me what you want, Doll.” He demanded, waiting for your consent before he went any further.

You looked up at James, desperation swimming in the darkness of your eyes. “I want you, James. I want you to fuck me better than he could.” You practically whined.

Without a word, James lifted your body onto the countertops; grabbing hold of your knees and spreading your legs apart. Your body withered into the countertops; goosebumps trickling along your skin as James hauled himself between your legs.

You looked up at him, your eyes round and wide; like a deer caught in the headlights. His tall frame towered over you, those icy eyes thinking of all the things he could do to you. “Trust me, Doll. I’m going to ruin you.” He cooed, his calloused palm pushing underneath your dress.

Your mouth opened, a shaky string of inhales making your shoulders puff up. His sizzling hands pushed up the inner apex of your thigh, his pinky just barely grazing the damp spot on your panties. You gnawed on your bottom lip, feeling James’ hands snake underneath your thighs.

He propped your legs up on the counter, the skirt of your dress riding up; your white panties on full display. James chuckled, tapping his finger against the bow that decorated the lace white panties. Your body jolted from the light touch, the pools of slick oozing out of you as he drug his finger down your seeping cunt.

“Jesus, Doll. You’re already soaked for me.” He muttered, rubbing circles on the puddle on your panties. He bucked up at you, watching your eyes roll back from the friction; your rosy pink lips hanging wide open.

“James, please.” You cried, dreading the torturous teasing he was putting your needy body through.

James looked at you, raising an eyebrow; signaling for you to go on. “C’mon, Doll. I know a dirty slut like you can do a lot better than that.” He degraded, his fingers slipping under the waistband of your panties.

You gulped down the dry lump in your throat, your thighs quivering as his velvety touch. “Please, James. I need you, so bad. Fuck me, please.” You begged him.

James smiled, finding satisfaction in your measly pleads. He slipped your panties on your ankles, stuffing the lace fabric in his pockets. “I’ll keep these. Maybe I’ll show your husband one day, give ‘em a hint of how filthy you are.”

A sweet, delectable moan slipped through your lips, your ooze now puddling on the countertops. Your eyes googled James’ body, focusing on the growing and hardened bulge in his jeans. He watched your eyes widen-- your pupils dilated. “This what you want, Doll?” He teased, palming his dick through his denim jeans. “This big cock all in your pretty, tight little pussy?”

You spread your legs further; your dress now gathered at your stomach. “Fuck, yes. I want it so bad”

Your sweet voice was like music to his ears. James wasted no time pulling his belt out from the loops of his jeans; he unzipped his pants, tugging them down to the mid of his thigh. His erection sprung out, the head of his cock red and swollen; pre-cum dripping down the veiny sides of his cock.

He grabbed the bottom of his shaft, pumping the head of his cock; letting it twitch in his tight grip. His body inched closer to yours, lining his tip up to your soaked hole. He looked up at you, adoring your twisted face as he slowly pushed himself inside you.

He took it slow, letting you become accustomed to every inch before he moved his hips. His thick cock bottomed out inside you, the head of his cock brushing against your sweet spot with the slightest movement of his body.

His cock stretched you out, your tight and warm walls clasping around the girth of him— making his thrust more restrained. James gripped the bottom of your thighs, holding your legs firmly apart, and huddled closer against your chest.

Your soft moans filled the kitchen, each one of his heavy thrusts sending you into a foggy daze. “You feel so fuckin’ good, Doll. Taking my cock like the little slut you are.” He grunted out, smacking his hips against the back of your thighs.

Your body jolted from his rough stroke, your walls contracted his hefty length. Your skin was red and bruised, his hips repeatedly slamming into you with no mercy. “Fuck, James. Just like that!” You moaned, licking your dry lips as your body shook against the countertops.

A malicious smirk grew on his face, watching your eyes roll to the back of your head. His hand gripped the adiposity of your thighs, leaving red marks from the harshness of his grip. “Tell me, Doll. Does your husband make you feel this good?”

He pulled his hips back, his cock slipping out of your wet pussy. You looked at him with crossed eyes, whining from the loss of his cock. He chuckled at your fucked out expression, using his free hand to grab the bottom of his shaft. “Or are you just my cock hungry slut?”

James slammed his cock back inside you— your back arching from the brutality as his thrust. Your body turned into mush, your arms lazily holding your body up— solely relying on James to keep you steady. “I’m ju-just yours.” You stuttered out, feeling his cock brush deep inside you.

You felt your high approach you, your core swallowing an uneasy knot; making your vision became cloudy and your mind turn into complete rubber. His cock rubbed against your sweet spot, the curve of his dick reaching spots your husband never could. Your body was engulfed in flames, becoming uncomfortably hot as your core started to snap.

“Shit! Oh, yes. Just like that, James.” You wailed, screwing your eyes shut.

James felt your walls grip his cock, tightening with every thrust he laid inside you. “Mhm, go ‘head, Y/n. Cum all over my cock, let it go.” He cooed, keeping your thighs pried open before they could shutter close.

You nodded your head rapidly, letting the tight feeling in your core snap. Your body spasmed underneath James’ grip, your creamy white cum coating every inch of his cock. Your body fell into the countertops, still getting fucked through your intense orgasm.

James fucked you through your orgasm— his cock twitching against your taut walls as he watched your orgasmic expression wipe over your flustered face. He felt his abdomen twist, his sweaty abs flexing with every thrust he forced inside the tightness of your pussy.

“You feel that, Doll?” James reached for your hand, knowing your mind couldn’t comprehend where he was going. He held your palm on your lower abdomen, letting you feel how deep inside you he truly reached.

“That’s my cock, deep inside this pretty pussy of yours. Can your husband reach that deep?” He mocked the determination that your husband lacked, watching your eyebrows furrow together from the heavy degradation.

“N-No, only yo-you.” You managed to get out.

James smirked, loving how submissive you were. Your body started to quiver again, another pent-up orgasm building up in your burning hot core. James watched your hole swallow him completely, sticking to the lengthy sides of his cock.

His cock twitched inside you, his balls tightened as that tight feeling in his stomach slowly started to fall apart. “Mm, shit. I’m gonna cum, Y/n.” He gritted his teeth, his eyes barely open enough to see how fucked out you looked.

“I’m gonna cum all inside this pussy, claim this little cunt as mine and only mine.”

His dominant words sent you overboard, that built-up orgasm snapping abruptly. Your back arched— pressing against James’ sweaty chest; feeling the sweat soak up into your dress. James watched you spasm beneath him, your pussy creaming around his cock once more.

With a few lazy thrusts, James’ seed was painting your pink walls— the warmness of his cum making your body tremble. James slammed into you one more time, the last drop of his cum seeping into your cunt. Your body withered against him, his rough hands reaching for your waist.

He kept his cock inside you, pulling your body away from his. He looked down at you, smiling proudly at your dumb-fucked expression. “How long until that husband of yours gets home?”

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x you #bucky fic #smut fanfiction #marvel #james barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky smut #bucky x reader #smut #housewife reader #daddy k!nk #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x female reader

[dearlymrme]

Hi can you pleaaaaassse do HCs about Copias corruption kink I’ll literally die

Have a little short nonny.

Innocence Is Overated (Copia x Reader)

You both have a kink.

Who does Papa turn to for confession with all his predecessors dead?

Copia has to try hard to convince himself once in a while. He’s a good man. He’s an honest man, well, sure, there's a little white lie once in a while, but he’s never hurt anybody with it. He’s never stolen, and he’s worked hard to get where he is now. (Even though he’s almost certain his name was drawn from a hat.) He keeps everything tidy. He’s frank. He’s polite. He’s a good man.

But his eyes are on you.

You’re new to the sisterhood and still wet behind the ears, with your habit on proper and not a hair out of place. You’re bright, you’re shiny, you’re fresh. You have a soft voice, a shy smile, and despite being a Sister of Sin, you have innocent eyes. He always sees you working, helping someone with their tasks or chores, volunteering to do more. You’re wonderful with the children, compassionate with the ghouls, and come up with fun games for both of them. You’re full of energy, your kind, you have such a sweet smile and give it to everyone, including him, you light up like a festive float anytime you cross someone in the halls. You're just so…pure.

And he wants to see you absolutely destroyed. He wants to see your mascara running with tears down your flushed cheeks. He wants to see your lipstick smeared and your lips puffy and kiss swollen. He was to see your neck decorated with a choker of bruises. He wants to see your tits suckled with bite marks. He wants to see your pussy, puffy and gummed with his leaking cum. He wants to take this pure ray of sunshine and turn it into the dirtiest fucking poster whore he can. He wants to wreck you in every way possible. Stain you in such a way nobody else will want you.

He’s a good man. He swears.

But any time he gets alone in his office, he imagines you and his cock throbs. He imagines you in his office dressed in all manner of skimpy things. Sometimes, it's your habit. Sometimes, it's a cute little plaid skirt. But more often, it's something white. Whatever it is he's flipping up your dress to slide off your cute panties (polka-dot, soft little clouds, even kittens) and stuffing his face between your thighs until your legs are quivering and you can barely stand. He imagines fingering your tight cunt and curling his digits until you sob his name just right and licks his lips at the thought of getting you to squelch.

He wonders if you’ve ever sucked cock before. He wraps a hand around his dick as it jumps at the thought that he’d be your first. Your eyes wide in alarm as he reveals to you his thick fat member and guides your hands down to wrap around it and get a feel for just how large he is. He’s the thickest you’ve ever had.

He imagines you swallowing nervously and looking up at him with a hint of fear.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.” He promises. Oh don’t worry, he will. He’ll be gentle up until he manages to get half of it down your throat and then shoves in the other half without remorse. He’ll apologize. ‘An accident.’ He swears. But after that first gag and those first tracks of tears down your cheeks you’ll get the idea. You’ll try your hardest to get all of him down your throat, your pretty pink lips stretched around his cock and shiny with precum, spit, and your cherry chapstick.

He’d shower you with compliments and praise. You’d love it. He’ll help you discover your kink for it.

“Doing so good, taking me so well.” Your face would flush, and your thighs would rub together. You gag, you try your hardest to take him but your jaw hurts and he pulls you off gently by your chin and slaps your cheek with his wet, spit slick cock.

“Look at what you're doing to me. All that is for you. You're making me feel so good. Look how hard and wet I am for you." And you're wet and frustrated before he guides you to the bed and has you lay down. He pulls your legs apart and lines himself up.

Belial, you would be so tight, or perhaps it’s just been too long for you. Either way, you grip him like a vice and whimper when he stuffs you with his cock, he can feel your walls sucking him in and flexing around him as he pushes further and further into you and-

Copia grunts as the band in his lower stomach snaps and cum jets from his cock. He tightens his hand over his dick and squeezes before slowly gliding his fist over his shaft and milks himself of his release.

He sighs, slouching on his bed pillows, and lets his orgasm rumble through him. Then he reaches the nightstand and takes a few tissues, and cleans himself up.

This is always where the fantasy ends. He simply can’t help himself.

Satanas, what he would give for the real thing.

He's in the midst of cleaning up for the night when he hears a knock from his door and goes to answer only to finding you there with a flush on your face, that same flush he had been fantasizing about mere minutes ago. You're wearing a simple but thin tee-shirt with cartoon characters and a pair of shorts.

"Hello Papa...do you have a minute to talk?" And you're shifting your thighs just so, and he can't help but glance at your cleavage so obviously pronounced in your shirt. There, he sees a ruby red fabric with white circles, just barrly oeaking out from the low collar of your shirt.

Polka-dots.

And well...

...He does try very hard to be a good man.

#copia #cardinal copia #dee answers #copia x reader #cardinal copia x reader #papa emeritus iv #papa emeritus iv x reader #ghost the band #the band ghost #ghost band

[embodyingchaos]

Bro I’m so curious to what yandere Abner would be like….. so can I request headcanons or a fic honestly whatever ur comfortable with

❥ OMG THIS IS A VERY INTERESTING REQUEST, this is my first time writing something yandere so I APOLOGISE IF ITS NOT ACCURATE

yandere polka-dot man/abner krill headcanons warnings: yandere behaviour, suggested intercourse, stalking, mentions of murder, abner being a creep, abner being DELUSIONAL

okay, so, abner sees you at a coffee shop, reading or drawing, whatever you like to do and he is immediately infatuated with you. you’re just so stunning and beautiful, he couldn’t help but fall deeply in love with you

he would never talk to you, he’d just watch you from afar, admire you, imagine that he actually walks up to you and starts a conversation, but there’s no way he could ever do that, he’s just so boring and pathetic(in his eyes) y’know?

abner would definitely be the type of yandere to just follow you everywhere you go with a pair of binoculars and a camera to take photos of you so he could look at them when he thought of you and wink wonk iykwim

he would also break into your home when you’re out and steal little things like your shirt or, a damn candle or smth

i feel like abner would also be the delusional type, and pretend that the two of you are actually in a relationship when he has never spoken A WORD to you ever

the first time he saw you talking to another man who touched you on your shoulder (because you guys were high school friends and haven't seen each other since then), he gave that man the death stare of the year

you guys swapped contact information and when you texted him twice in the next week, he didn't answer at all because dear ol' abbie had stabbed him to death in his apartment

he just couldn't have his sweet darling be harassed by another person, how dare that man touch you? only he's allowed to touch you, silly little goose!

after at least three months of stalking you, taking notes of your every move, of any date you've been on, killing the people you went on a date on, he finally decided to try to talk to you

you were so clueless. he greeted you and you greeted him with a happy, unknowing smile. you had no goddamn idea that he had been creeping around you for so long

you found him adorable, and shy, and sweet. so much more of a gentlemen than anyone else in gotham could ever be! he found that it was definitely meant to be

you guys went on a few dates, he paid every time and constantly opened doors for you, he'd apologise after the most tiny inconvenience and you would say it's alright, you don't need to apologise

after you guys slept with one another for the first time, abner was starting to get clingy in a very unnerving way

he would visit your apartment every day, visit your work place, some times you'd spot him hanging around a tree when you're doing some errands. it was definitely starting to weird you out.

even if it did weird you out, and you expressed clearly with your body language, abner thought he played his cards right. abner was so sure you would fall deeply in love with him as he did with you, and he was going to make sure that would happen in any way possible. you have no choice.

#abner krill #abner krill headcanons #yandere abner krill #yandere abner #polka dot man #polka dot man headcanons #abner krill hcs #abner krill imagines #abner krill x reader #abner krill x gn reader #yandere abner krill x reader #yandere polka dot man #yandere au #suicide squad 2 #suicide squad #polka dot man hcs #abner krill masterlist

[ronearoundblindly]

No Promises (1)

Lloyd Hansen x rival assassin!Reader

Itsy-Bitsy Teeny-Weeny Deadly Polka Dot Bikini

Summary: Lloyd gets outsmarted.

Warnings for HE'S AN A**HOLE AND I SHOULDN'T NEED TO TELL YOU THAT, illusions to sex/imagined sexual acts, general body-shaming, nasty thoughts, drugging/murder, and the unbelievable thrill of Lloyd getting taken down a few pegs. MINORS DNI. WC ~900

Lloyd impatiently taps his pinky ring on his binoculars, adjusting the lenses.

He hates waiting, but there’s nothing for it. The job is to retrieve something this man stole without evidence that anything was stolen from him.

Oh, and kill the fucker. Obviously.

Man’s a thief.

Well, Lloyd’s a thief, too, in a way, but he doesn’t bother to steal without reason. He gets a payday out of it.

This guy—this grossly-obese, sack of shit chumming it up poolside at a resort—also thinks he’s getting a payday out of it, yeah, but Lloyd is so much better than that. He’d see the reality of his situation. He wouldn’t be this stupid. He wouldn’t be spending the money before the exchange was made.

Easy pickings is what this guy is.

All Lloyd has to do is make it look like the middle-aged, fake-tanned Pillsbury Doughboy down there had a heart attack…which might actually happen at the rate his target is shoveling antipasto down his gullet.

Lloyd wipes his own mouth in disgust.

The women have the right idea though, especially the one in the yellow bikini.

His target looks like a desperate and lonely man, whether flashing around wealth or not, so leech away, ladies. Enjoy the free ride while it lasts.

Lloyd frowns and spits over the balcony where he watches. He just imagined the yellow bikini riding that sweaty hippo down there—more to the point, he imagined having to surveil the man while fatso tried to fuck a woman like that—and feels queazy.

Some parts of the job he likes. Some parts he doesn’t. Lloyd gets paid either way.

He leans back for a moment, resting his eyes from the high magnification and the bright sun above. He takes in the mind-numbing, incessant beat of island drums that converges from multiple ‘bands’ across the property into the worst white noise.

Lloyd would rather hear the whimpering, whining screams of torture.

Where the fuck are the waves and relaxing shit?

For effect, a gull screeches at him from the next railing over.

“I will fucking eat you,” Lloyd sharply chuckles back, and then he picks up his slippery, cold Arnold Palmer and smacks his lips.

You know what they say: If you love what you do, you’ll never work a day in your whole life.

That’s true. Lloyd’s proven that. The missing part is that if work isn’t work then vacation isn’t vacation, so one has to make do with thrills where they find them.

Lloyd gently lifts the silencer-tipped gun from his lap and shoots the gull right off its perch. He makes a long whistling noise as the carcass falls and lands with a satisfying thud against some enormous bush leaves.

This is going to be easy, he thinks, sipping his refreshment slowly. Child’s play.

He sets down the glass and the gun, repositioning the binoculars over the possibly-sunburnt bridge of his nose.

Watching this poser of a paunch groping the decent-looking, sunshine girl is making him plan out seeing someone of his own tonight. He’ll be done with the guy early enough; plenty of time to find a self-conscious chubster willing to suck and fuck hard for a few praises. It’s basically charity work, but again, work isn’t really work, is it?

Lloyd has to follow the repetitive grind of yellow-tied hips and watch the front bow bounce between breasts to notice that she’s yanking at the string.

He might be in real luck. Is he about to get a show?

The bikini top doesn’t fall away, however, and it’s suddenly missing the white bead marking the edge of the seam.

Sunshine's hands go up in the air, reaching and swaying with the beat, until she turns and drops something small—like a fucking pill—into the target’s drink, reaching for his face and cooing dirty, little things, it seems, by the distracted burst of the man’s pupils.

Mother fucker.

Lloyd sprints back through the sliding door and out of his room, he vaults the banisters to jump down three flights in the stairwell and only emerges at the poolside to see his target collapsing forward, the bikini bitch groping the body as it falls to sneak a keycard out of his pocket.

She screams bloody murder and everyone fucking buys the act. She scrabbles away, bare palms on the concrete, one holding his goddamn prize, until she slips backward into the pool.

“Son of a…” Lloyd scowls, but there are too many people moving over the walkway to rubberneck.

He sees happy, dotted yellow emerge from the other side of the water, empty-handed, a sympathetic towel thrown over a clearly shocked woman.

From across the courtyard, you, Sunshine, turn in Lloyd’s direction, pulling at the front of your suit bottoms to emphasize a stiff, rectangular shape underneath.

You’re staring right at him when slowly raising a middle finger and winking before wrapping the generic towel tighter.

Onlookers and good samaritans gather, crossing in between you two. He can’t make a scene.

Then you’re gone, folded into the wave of terry cloth that ripples and recedes with passing drama.

He stands there, dumbfounded, ten feet away from a dead seagull.

Did…did Lloyd just fucking lose?

A/N: *evil, unhinged laughter* This shit is gonna be fun....

[Next Part: Don't Be Blue, Bunny Boy]

[Main Masterlist; Lloyd Hansen Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

#lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen fanfiction #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen x y/n #dark fic #lloyd hansen drabble #lloyd hansen series

[peaches-creek]

It had been years since he had last seen you, his girl. You weren’t his girl, but you were his girl. He had only been Jason again for maybe a year or so, leaving the Arkham Knight in the past, and bringing the Red Hood into the light. He was still brining himself back, still having days where he feels nothing but rage. Days where he feels disgust, sadness, trauma. He has to be able to feel those things before he is able to love anyone else, not that he wants anyone else, you are it for him. You loved him for the little Jason that would show up on your doorstep with bruised and scraped knees, a belly needing to be filled. Instead of telling him to find help elsewhere, that you can’t let him in because your father would absolutely flip, you quietly let him in.

As he sits on your little twin bed, he takes in your room and pays attention to the small things. The pretty little pink flowers on your sheets, the Justin Bieber poster beside your desk. He scoffs at that. He notices the little finger paintings your younger sister made you, the well loved stuffed animals, and the little tea cup set you had at your play table. The last thing he payed attention to, while you gathered as many band-aids aid alcohol pads as your little 9 year old hands could hold, was all the knitted scarves and hats you had around your room. One was pink, another blue with a white rim, many rainbow colored ones, but the one that looked the warmest, was the red one. It had a white Pom-pom on top with little red laces on the bottom to tie it tight around your squishy little face. He imagined you in it, with your puffy cheeks. You scurry back into the room.

“Okay so these kinda sting,’’ you say ripping open an alcohol wipe, “I can hold your hand if you want.” You were half teasing. You did want to hold his hand but you knew he was like a scared rabbit, if you moved too fast he would scamper back into the darkness.

“I think I will manage, barely.” he smirks. He wanted to hold your hand too.

You payed attention to him as well. You payed attention to how his knees weren’t just bruised, but scarred. How his teeth were only a bit crooked. His hair was curly in the most perfect way, with a little curl falling right in front of his face. His freckles and blue eyes. You loved everything about him. You also noticed those pretty little blue eyes looking at your red hat.

“My nana makes those y’know,” you chirp, “she can make you one if you want.”

“I’m all set.” He says, looking away.

“Alright. Well guess what happened the other day! I went to the store and I found…” You rambled on, getting back to doctoring his knees.

He spent the remaining time of the night listening to insignificant stories about your little life. About the silly man you saw wearing a bright yellow suit and pink polka dot shoes. About the stray cat with one eye. He started looking at you again, looking at your funny little bed head, cowlick sticking straight up. Your blue striped pajama set. Bunny slippers. Everything about you was cute, you were only a year or so younger than him.

You met him at the Gotham Public library. You were both looking for books on mythology, he was looking for Greek while you were looking for Norse, different but alike, just like the pair of you. Ever since then, you were always around one another. He walked you home from school, made sure you got into your apartment okay. He would go to the park with you, push you on the swings. He even read you stories when you were sick and your mother let him in to see you. I mean, how could you deny him, he looked like a kicked puppy when he found out you couldn’t play.

You weren’t like the other city kids, you were kind. That’s why he liked you so much. All the obstacles you overcame, and you were still forgiving and patient. He envied that. Everything he went through made him angry and unforgiving. He would tell you about that, but you would just tell him that there’s two sides to every coin, and he didn’t know what the hell that meant. Sometimes you just said stuff.

You finished up with a quick kiss to his knees and exclaimed that you were all done. You turned on your heel and walked right over to the little red hat. You walked right back over to him and put in on his head.

“It’s a little too big for me, but it fits you just right!”

“I can’t take this.” He says, without taking it off.

“Yes, you can.” You quip.

“No I can’t.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Jason Peter Todd I will win the fight and you know it.” You giggle.

His response is nonverbal, just a huff. You smile.

He moves toward the window in your room, opens it and climbs onto the fire escape. He takes one last look into your lovely room and one last look at your lovely face. He waves his hand at you, beckoning you to come to him. He presses one little kiss to your cheek and quickly, but quietly he shuts the window. Then he’s gone, probably going home, leaving you with a red hot face and a goofy smile.

#jason todd #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd fluff #jason todd imagine #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd headcanon #mygirl!verse

[una-hopeless-romantic1118]

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈𝐈: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐀 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐃𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐬?—𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐑𝐨𝐣𝐚𝐬/𝐑𝐡𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐬

a/n: by this part, it’s been a few weeks after Y/N and Warren met on the yacht. a little snippet of how karen and y/n met bc they’re platonic soulmates and they’re both badass

timeline: ep. 3 (band is still in hiatus)

here’s the good stuff y’all signed up for :p

Part 1   

This chapter: Part 2   

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5 (in the works!)

Epilogue

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

warnings (of this chapter): sexual tension, warren being horny, reader being horny, smoking, angst, cursing, drinking. 

summary (of this chapter): weeks has passed and Warren still found himself pinning over a stranger, and Y/N, realizing the cost of fame, found herself bound to be lonely for as long she succeeds under the limelight. Will she take a chance at love? Or is her career too much of a blessing that she can’t risk ruining over anything?

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

•─────⋅(cut to documentary)⋅─────• 

Interviewer: So how did you and Y/N meet?

Karen: Uh, *chuckling* it was all thanks to a shitty driver that just...had to drop me off in the middle of nowhere.

I was supposedly, on my way to the boys’ house for the first time. I had no clue where I was, nor did I have people to ask around for help. It was literally in the middle of nowhere. Just sand, and drought. 

But if it weren’t him, I would’ve never gotten a ride from that woman in a purple polka-dotted bikini who had clearly just gone out of the water from a nearby beach.

*her eyes widen playfully at the camera* If it weren’t for that arse driver, I would’ve never met my best mate.

Interviewer: What was your relationship like afterwards?

Karen: *grinning* How’d she describe it?

Interviewer: *slight chuckling* She said “like two schoolgirls who never grew up.”

Karen: *nodding* Sounds about right. *she chuckles*

•─────⋅(cut back)⋅─────•

“He’s been drooling about you every damn day, Y/N!” Karen whisper-shouted into the telephone. “This is witchcraft you placed on this man. Never seen him so quiet and...smiley.”

Y/N imagined her friend to be on her bed with the telephone. The conversation was about Warren, who Y/N found out was Karen’s bandmate that, she quotes, “uses his dick as a compass.” Whenever they talked about Warren, with Y/N’s obnoxious pleadings, Karen would take the telephone to her bedroom, where Warren and the boys can’t hear.

Karen flipped on her back. “I think you’re a maniacal genius, love, but isn’t this too far? A crime of some sort?”

“What do you mean?” Y/N asked with a mouthful of chips. After swallowing, possibly too fast, she coughs out. “My name is Flora, though.”

“Are you alright?” Karen chuckled at her friend, who goes on to have a coughing fit on the other end of the telephone.

She continues anyways. “Y/N, love, ... he’s going to get hurt.”

“What happened to his dick being his compass?” Y/N, teary eyed from the coughs, drags herself out of bed to her kitchen to get a glass of water. She takes a long drink before getting herself back to the phone. “Honestly, I think he’ll just throw a tantrum, get drunk, and his dick will reactivate. There’s more of me he can find and fuck. No biggie.”

“No biggie?” Karen repeated, disbelief sending her to sit up. “He’s been looking everywhere for you! Pestering me about some Flora that worked for Y/N L/N—Also! Took me a while to piece it all together, y’know! You’re a pain in the arse for this!”  

“Calm down, hun.” Y/N giggled. “I thought it was fun.”

“He’ll think otherwise, Y/N!” Karen scolded. “You don’t know the effect you have on this man.”

“Oh, I do.” She reassured. “I still think it’s funny.”

Y/N took her friend’s frustrated groans as a way to explain herself. “Don’t worry, Kiki,” she insisted with a laugh. “I’ll have enough designing to do that I’ll be stuck in my condo for months. He won’t see me anywhere in parties any time soon either. By the end of this season, he’ll forget all about me.” 

There was only silence now, Y/N could only picture her friend on the other end constructing a plan on how she could possibly restrain her for being so reckless.

“I’m gonna go surf till I come out like a pruny grandma,” she informed her. “Wanna come over?”

“I’ll come over after lunch.” Karen yawned. “You’ll be pruny enough then, yes?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Alright, until then, I’ve got some errands to run for my three sons.”

The friends said their good-byes and love-yous before ending their call. 

The beach was right outside her condo, ready for Y/N to surf in and relax, but she didn’t head out immediately after the call.

One thing Y/N knew too well about, was how hard it was to be noticed.

Sure she had the fame, the money, the success, the perfect condo with the beach for her backyard. But in the height of her success, Y/N is lonely, and no one notices. 

Her designs and her fame so easily drowned her in the background. Because it wasn’t her who mattered to them, at least, not who she really was as a person. Her art were an extension of herself, but the fans don’t see that. Not really. Her private life was empty, filled with no one to celebrate her successes with.

So maybe that’s why she depends so much on her fame—it’s all she really has.

Her family is all the way in France. And while they loved each other, Y/N would much rather die than ask them to accompany her, or for her to go back home just for their company.

Because she can’t admit she’s lonely. She can’t admit how miserable she really feels, even to her friends. The guilt of asking them for their company feels like desperation to Y/N.

Maybe she regrets putting off a love life. How long did she expect to be working like this, anyways?

So then she goes to her vinyl player to play something. The Six album, to be precise, and she pays attention to nothing else but the drums in the background, who were also easily drowned out.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

 •─────⋅(cut to documentary)⋅─────•

Interviewer: While Karen visited Y/N that day, what were you doing?

Warren: *chuckling and shaking his head* Karen never visited her that day.

Interviewer: ...What do you mean?...

•─────⋅(cut back)⋅─────•

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Warren paces around the porch of the blue beach house with a folded piece of paper to fidget with.

He unfolds the piece of paper to reread the address written.

It was her address. Flora’s. Long-awaited, that was for sure, and Karen just figured out her address for him as if she knew it all along.

The neighborhood was nice, and from examining the cars and the people coming in and out of the houses, it was a rich neighborhood. It looks very unlikely for someone who just works for a fashion designer to be living in something like this. 

Suddenly, he hears clicking inside, like a locked doorknob trying to be opened. When it stops, he hears a sliding door open and close promptly. 

Then, nearing barefoot footsteps. “Sorry you had to wait!” There was giggling behind this door, and Warren watches the doorknob turn, and ultimately the door opened to a soaked and rosy-cheeked Flora in a white, two piece bikini.

Warren took note of the wide smile she had on when she opened the door, but it seemed to disappear once she saw who was behind it.

“Hey, Flora.” He managed to say, breathlessly. He does everything in his power not to stare too long at her dripping body, not missing the thin, golden chains with charms of stars around her waist, and how that bikini hugged her body the right wa— 

Y/N closed her agape mouth and forced a small smile. “Um, hey!” She greeted awkwardly. 

Silence filled them both. The wind breezed at them and at the palm trees around the neighborhood, accompanied by a gray sky.

Y/N’s body shuddered in response, and Warren couldn’t help but laugh at her body’s reaction.

She laughs along with him. “I’m sorry, do you want to come in? It looks like it’s gonna rain in a bit.”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” He accepted the invitation, maybe a little too eagerly. 

“I’ll mop the floors in a bit, just watch your step.”

Warren obliged, making his way to the living room where Y/N motioned him to. 

“I have so many questions,” Y/N snorted. “How’d you find me in the first place?”

“A friend of mine...” Warren sat down carefully, examining his surroundings. “Karen.”

She nods, scoffing like she should’ve seen it coming. 

There were enough evidence for Warren to conclude that a fashion designer owned this place. The rich neighborhood, the rolls of cloth against almost all four walls, the two sewing machines, the bits and cuts of cloth scattered on the table in front of him.

Warren looked up to meet Y/N, who was not at all ashamed for hiding her true identity.

“Surprise!…” She drawled out, carefully because she’s aware of the embarrassment she caused him, but also with no shame that she’s led him on like this.

He shook his head with a small smile, taking into his hand the nearest piece of cloth. “I assumed you were her when you left.” He said, his voice low. “I asked around.”

“Should’ve done that in the first place,” she giggled with her back turned to him as she looks for beer in her fridge. “Now you’re stuck in this mess.”

Warren shrugged, taking the beer from her hands. “You make it sound like it’s the worst thing on the planet.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her glistening legs.

Y/N laughed out. “Drink your beer, Warren. I’ll go shower and we can have a proper conversation like two civilized civilians.”

“Who said we have to be civil?” He insisted further, leaning back on the comfortable couch. “Who said we have to talk at all, I mea—“

“Drink the beer, Warren!” She yelled from down the hallway.

•─────⋅(cut to documentary)⋅─────•

Warren: She’s got that charm, y’know? I mean, as embarrassing as it was, I was hooked. I didn’t even mind she lied to me at all. Piecing it together and realizing the good friend Karen gushes on so much about, the fashion designer taking over the world with her talents, and Flora, were the Y/N L/N, you couldn’t blame me.

•─────⋅(cut back)⋅─────•

“How upsetting would it be if I told you the storm is going to last the whole night?” She slumped down beside him on the sofa.

Warren, with a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth, could only praise God silently for this disastrous weather.

“What makes you think it’s going to last the whole night?”

Y/N squinted her eyes at him sarcastically as the sound of the thunder roared loudly, even inside.

“Noted,” Warren rolled his eyes at her. She was clearly drunk, but Warren can’t help but tease her just for the sassy remarks.

“So, anyways, I was thinking I might get a dog or two.” Y/N brushed the ends of her hair in thought, laying the side of her head on his shoulder. “I’ve wanted dogs for so long, I’m taking you coming here as a sign.”

“I’m flattered.” Warren laughs out.

“You’re very welcome.” She sniffed. 

“Can I ask why?” He chuckled, stubbing out the cigarette to talk to her face to face without blowing smoke at her face. “I’m kind of scared to ask, not gonna lie.”

What he didn’t expect was for her to place her hand atop his head, patting down his hair. “You’re hair.” She smiled sleepily. “I’ve noticed it the first time we met.”

Warren could only laugh at her drooping eyelids. “You tired?”

“No, I’m not tired,” she crossed her arms, turning her body away from him. “I’m wide awake.”

“Baby, you’ve been falling asleep in the middle of your sentences for a while now.” He cooed. “C’mon, I’ll carry you to bed like a man servant.”

“I am not tired,” she insisted.

He tucks a rebellious strands of hair behind her ear. “If you fall asleep here, I’m sleeping on your bed.”

“Don’t you dare,” she drawled out. “My bed is reserved for me only. The only thing you can do it...the only thing you can do to it,” she giggled, “is fluff my pillows. Like a man servant.”

He laughs, with her strands of hair still in his hands. He twirls it around his own fingers gently, careful not to cause her pain. He’s closer than before now, and without her moving her head so much he noticed the constellation of freckles across her cheeks.

When Y/N starts stirring into her first few minutes of sleep, Warren attempts to move his hands beneath her to carry her, only for her to open her eyes again.

“Damn it, Y/N.” He scolded her.

She smiled blissfully, closing her eyes again. “I want you to fuck me.”

Warren stills. For the first time, his first instinct was to move away rather than accept.

He was too scared to move. Did he give her the wrong impression? Not that he didn’t want to fuck her at all, but it’s not right to do so when she’s drunk.

Y/N opens her eyes to find him flushed. “Isn’t that what you wanted in the first place?” She snorted.

“You’re drunk, Y/N.”

She threw her hands up in surrender. “I give you full consent.” 

“It doesn’t matter, you’re not thinking straight.” He goes to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“So...you’re saying you don’t want to fuck me?”

How could someone not? Warren thought miserably to himself. Even in her long, white cardigan that could pass off as a grandmother’s cardigan and black silk sleep dress that revealed most of her soft skin, Warren was ready to take all of her in.

When she’s sober, he convinced himself. If she even feels the same when she is.

Warren’s next move was to wait until she falls asleep and to deny, deny, deny, but Y/N grabbed him by his chin to face her. 

Despite her droopy eyelids, Y/N forced herself to look up at him. His breaths fanning her face were like rescue breaths to her.

She couldn’t help but nudge his beautiful nose against hers, while Warren continued to have an internal battle.

Y/N understood her own rules well, and didn’t fail to acknowledge his respect for her current state.

So all she did was bring him closer by the chin and kissed him deeply. She feels Warren respond obligingly, though, still cautious.

It was a kiss that Y/N could need for the rest of her life, the way his lips reached into hers desperately like how she always wished a man would reach for her. The way his hand cupped the back of her head like how she always wanted to be supported and cared for.

The sudden adrenaline of hope that Warren felt was too much to handle. He never felt the so conflicted over something he’s wanted, but he knew he couldn’t have.

He didn’t want himself holding her back. She has too much potential and talent, he would just make a fool out of himself.

Y/N ended the intimate kiss with a peck on his nose. “For now,” she smiled against his jawline, before she could feel herself tire completely on his shoulder.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

few more parts to come!!

taglist (aka beautiful people): @pinkdaiisies​ @mlwriting5 @teletubbysteroids​ @linatells @stanzie @arsonkween @rexorangecouny​ @lisbeth122605​ @cultsanrio @thatoneawesomechicka​ @magicalmiserybore​

#djats #daisy jones and the six #daisy jones #Daisy Jones and the six imagines #Daisy jones and the six fics #djats imagines #warren rojas x you #warren rojas x y/n #warren rhodes x you #warren rojas x reader #warren rojas #warren rhodes #warren rhodes x reader #warren rhodes x y/n #karen sirko #warren rojas fluff #warren rojas smut #warren rhodes fluff #warren rhodes smut

[joeyalohadream]

Clegan drabble prompt: one of them getting a sunburn and the other kissing it better

Thanks for the prompt anon! Hope you enjoy a sweet little moment treat!

Word Count: 1,127 (little kisses below the cut)

Bucky could feel the sweat running down his back, collecting into the waist band of his PT shorts as he took a deep pull from his canteen. The water was too warm from sitting in the sun but it still worked to soothe the terrible thirst he felt. It was an unusually hot day for the English countryside, and he was beginning to regret the pick-up game of baseball he’d convinced the other airmen to play.

Still the sweet victory he could hold over Curt at the pub later was enough to satisfy him in the end.

He grabbed his shirt off the ground and shook it out before pulling it over his head, grimacing as the fabric grazed the heated skin of his face and shoulders. It clung uncomfortably to his chest and back and all he could think about was a cold shower.

“I’m heading back to the barracks boys,” he yelled over to other men that were gathering in the shade of some of the larger trees, chugging from their own canteens. “Winning team get’s first dibs on the showers.”

He laughed as Crosby, Blakely and a few others cheered, and Curt flipped him the bird.

---

The heat in barracks wasn’t as stifling as it had been outside, but it still wasn’t pleasant. He closed the door behind him, ready to make a beeline for the showers when he spotted one of his favorite sights.

Gale was dozing in his cot, one arm wrapped around his pillow and the other curled up under his cheek as he laid on his side. He’d stayed behind to finish a report for Harding, but Bucky saw no evidence of the work near his rack.

He moved to his own bunk, right across from Gale’s, keeping his steps light and gathered what he needed for the shower.

Taking advantage of the empty barracks and the rare lack of an audience, he reached down and softly brushed a strand of blond hair away from the sleeping man’s forehead with his fingertips, smiling when the light touch prompted Gale to smoosh his face further into his pillow.

With one last lingering look at the peaceful expression on Gale’s face, he headed to the showers.

----

Bucky was finally clean but still too hot, the cold water had only been a temporary reprieve on his overheated skin. He tried to be quiet as he entered the barracks again, but then saw it was fruitless as Gale was sitting up on his cot, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the heels of both hands, hair a mess and looking adorably rumpled.

“Hey sleepyhead,” Bucky greeted with a grin. “When you said you had to stay behind to do some work I was okay, but now that I know you skipped out on cheering me on to take a nap, I’m a little offended.”

Gale’s face snapped in his direction at his words and Bucky couldn’t help the smug feeling that bloomed as he watched blue eyes widen and run down the length of his body. He’d forgotten his clothes and the towel hanging low on his hips left little to the imagination.

“Finished the report,” Gale said and cleared his throat. It took him longer than necessary to slide his eyes back up to Bucky’s face. “Thought I’d just lay day down for a minute or two. Guess I was more tired than I thought.”

Bucky’s eyes softened as he observed the other man. He’d flown a mission the day before and Bucky hadn’t been in the air for it. He knew Gale had trouble sleeping the night after a fight like that, too much adrenaline to properly shut the mind down and rest.

“I’m glad you got some sleep Buck,” Bucky told him earnestly. He moved towards his cot. “Thought you’d want to know though that you missed a supreme showing of my athletic prowess. I was the captain of the pinstripes and we wiped the floor with the polka dots today.”

Gale chuckled but gave him a genuine smile. “Well good job Bucky, never doubted you for a second.”

Bucky smiled back and turned to gather his clothes but stopped when he heard a sharp intake of breath behind him.

“Jesus John,” he felt Gale’s fingertips ghost over his shoulder and down his back. The touch made him shiver; Gale’s fingertips cool over the burnt skin. “What’d you do, play shirts versus skins?”

“It’s a scorcher,” Bucky shrugged, but winced when the movement pulled at the tight feeling skin. “Had to shed the layers to try to cool off.”

“Well that backfired on ya. You’re burnt to a crisp Bucky,” Gale scolded gently. Bucky couldn’t turn around because those gentle hands were still gliding over his reddened back. It felt too good to do anything but stand there and take it.

“Does it hurt?” Gale asked him softly, and Bucky couldn’t help but jump a little when he felt soft lips press against his left shoulder blade.

“Uh, yeah a little,” Bucky breathed out. He didn’t jump this time when lips pressed to the top of his right shoulder, but he felt goosebumps rise on his arms.

Bucky closed his eyes and released the tension in his body as Gale continued to press light kisses all along his shoulders and back. Bucky wasn’t a praying man, but he shot up a request for the rest of the men to stay out in the sun for a little while longer and let him enjoy this rare moment of tenderness.

After what felt like hours but must have only been minutes, Bucky felt a hand wrap around his bicep, and he was turned around. He blinked his eyes open slowly and smiled when he found that he was almost nose to nose with Gale.

Those blue eyes scanned his face for a moment before his tilted his head and planted a kiss to his left cheek, the bridge of his nose and then his right cheek. Bucky’s eyes were a little wide and he realized he’d been holding his breath, so he let it out and leaned forward.

“You know,” he whispered into the space between their lips. “It’s hard to see it in this light, but my lips got pretty burned too.”

Gale chucked quietly, “That a fact?”

“Mmmhmm,” he murmured in return. “They’re really started to hurt too.” The exaggerated pout he thew caused his lips to brush against the other’s.

“Can’t have that,” Gale rasped back and then he leaned in and pressed his lips to Bucky’s.

And Bucky decided he’d behaved for long enough, so he brought both hands up to cup Gale’s face and pressed back until Gale let him in to taste his smile.

#clegan #buck x bucky #mota fic #mota fanfic #fic request #ask me anything

[rainbowbarnacle]

I was kind a late bloomer when it comes to liking clothes, but I've learned to love dolling up! And it took me forever.

I didn't want much to do with clothes at all growing up because I wasn't really allowed to go see what I liked, and so I just kind of lived in jeans and t-shirts because that's what was comfortable. When I did try and see what I liked, mom would pull out the excuses.

"You can't wear that top, it's not your color." (Note: she never told me what my colors ever were, just what they weren't.) "You can't wear those colors, you'll look like a clown." (OH NO NOT THAT) "You can't wear that tank, it shows your arm flab." (?!?!?!) "I know you like that dress but why would someone like you wear it? You don't go out." (I WANNA WEAR IT SITTING A LOUNGE CHAIR READING A BOOK, MOTHER.)

It wounded me. Just. Holy crap. She told me these things as though it was some obvious, awful rule that I just didn't get. To hear her talk, you'd think that everyone else was already aware of my fashion sins and whispering about them, and (worst of all!!) it embarrassed her so much.

The alternatives to my choices were sooo depressing too. Khaki capris. Piles of denim, especially these weirdly stretchy uncomfortable bell bottoms that always got soaked in rain puddles? Cardigans. Nothing joyful.

(This is not to say that bell bottoms and cardigans and capris can't have their uses, and I am not questioning or judging anybody who likes these things, it was just miserable being shoved into them like a doll because This is What People Wear According to Mom.)

I was taught I should HATE plaid and paisley and polka dots, and to this day I have to shove an instinctive feeling of shame away when I look at my closet, because guess what, it turns out I have a looot of paisley AND I LOOK NICE IN IT. 8)

And just. Oh man. If I could tell tiny!Aud about how I get to match (or contrast) different colors with the blue dye in my hair? Or how I have a closet full of long skirts and headscarves and pretty shirts? Or the joy of finding jewelry that POPS? I bet she would be so happy. I never imagined myself looking like me when I was little, I always imagined myself looking sort of like mom.

Anyway, the whole point of all this blathering is that it took me an absurdly long time to figure out that clothes were FUN because the only person who should be making those kinds of decisions about them is meee. Once I figured that out, it was like a whole new world opened up.

And that goes the same for you. Go wear that Thing you like with joy. Embrace your favorite colors and patterns. Wear a biker jacket, wear a mini skirt with those long socks you like, wear that one shirt that is Incredibly Gender. WEAR ALL THREE AT ONCE.

Wear what's YOU because it's YOU.

<3

#domestic blifs

[weministertomonsters]

Naga Father (Araza) x gender-neutral reader

Anyone remember that short monster imagine I did of a naga and a babysitter? Well, I expanded it a bit. :)

•─────✧─────•

You're looking forward to a free weekend, but when you receive a call on Friday night for a babysitting job, you decide to take it. As much as you'd like to take some time for yourself, you do need the money.

"You come highly recommended," the gruff voice on the other end says.

"Well, I'm good with kids," you reply, idly curling a strand of your kinky hair through your fingers. "And I often clean up the house a little if I have the spare time. It really helps out the parents who work late or have extra shifts."

"I will see for myself. Come by at eight tomorrow morning," the man- or at least you think it is- says, and hangs up.

Oof. So it's one of those parents then. You can almost predict how the day is going to go. You're exhausted, so after you feed your cat, you have a quick dinner and all but collapse onto your bed. You sleep so deeply that your alarm shrieking in your ear barely pierces through your dreams.

Groaning, you peel your face off your pillow and try to remember what you set it for. Great. You hop out of bed and shamble into the kitchen to fix some coffee. After that and a warm shower, you feel much better. You drag a brush through your hair and put on some casual, comfortable clothes, perfect for chasing after kids all day.

It's not often you babysit a single child, so this is going to be interesting.

You get there on time, but spend almost a full minute lingering in your car, wondering if you maybe got the wrong address. The house is huge, with white brick walls, big windows, and a sprawling yard that looks a little ramble-y and overgrown. You don't spot a single wayward toy.

Well, there's only one way to know. You get out and trudge up the crunchy gravel path. The doorbell echoes through the house but you don't hear any footsteps. The door swings open suddenly and… Well, you're not looking at a person, that's for sure.

A well-sculpted human torso tapers off into a snake tail that coils so far back that you can't see the end of it. His eyes are a bright gold with slitted pupils.

You're pretty certain this is the guy you spoke to on the phone yesterday. It's not hard for you to guess that he answered the door like this as a shock factor. To see how you'd react to a non-human, to judge if you're one of those paranoid types to start screaming about demons and evil.

You definitely aren't. The reason you're staring isn't because you've never seen one of his kind before (though you haven't because the town you live in is really small), but because he answered the door without a stitch of clothing on. You'd think he'd at least wear a shirt, but no.

He looks fresh out of the shower too, with the ends of his dark hair dripping water onto his tan skin. He has claws and scales on his forearms. Good lord, he's built nicely, with a bit of lean muscle.

"Have I surprised you?" He drawls, and you note the muted lisp of the 's', which you caught on the phone as well.

"Yes. Um, I mean no." You chuckle nervously, tucking your hands into your pockets. "It's cool."

Your eyes are still lingering shamelessly on his chest. It's his fault for answering the door like that, you reason. He's practically inviting you to look.

"Well, come in," he says, slipping to the side and opening the door a little wider. "Remove your shoes."

"Thanks." You step in and slip your shoes off, marveling at how clean the floors are.

For a moment, you just observe each other. He takes you in, an eyebrow hitching slightly. You look… Like a rainbow. Your afro is dyed in chunks so it looks like a fluffy snowcone. You're wearing a bright t-shirt with overalls that have a cute white rabbit embroidered on the front. Your socks are covered in funky polka dots, but they're very comfy. You've learned from experience not to put on jewelry for babysitting jobs, but you never go anywhere without the dainty three-leafed clover necklace your mother gave you years ago.

"Have I surprised you?" You echo his earlier words.

"You look very… Human," he responds with a slight curl of his lip.

"Let me guess, you don't like my kind?"

"Not really, no. However I cannot shift my schedule further, so I require someone to watch my son. And my community has an annoying lack of babysitters. Thus, you."

"Me," you echo with a slight smile.

He turns and slithers into the kitchen. You can hear a muted hiss as his scales scrape over the floorboards.

"Um, am I early?" You ask, even though you know you're right on time.

"I leave in half an hour," he says as he pours a cup of tea. "I want to observe how you interact with my son."

"I understand. I promise to take good care of him, Mr…? I didn't catch your name yesterday."

"Because I never gave it to you. Mr. Araza."

"Tobi," you reply.

"And how do I address you?" He asks, turning to sweep his gaze over your frame.

You know that you're perfectly straddling the fence between feminine and masculine, and you like to keep it that way. With some people, it's fun to see them fume and struggle to fit you into a box or label. With Mr. Araza, you can tell he's just curious.

"Just Tobi is fine," you reply with a small smile.

He nods. His tongue flickers out of his mouth and that startles you. It's just so pink and thin, with a delicate pronged tip. You clear your throat and try to look casual. His eyes narrow slightly and you pray he can't use his tongue to figure out what exactly you're feeling or the way your hormones just spiked, or you're fucked.

"I take suppressants," he says like he just read your thoughts, moving close enough that you catch a hint of the fragrant tea in his hand.

"It is tiring to live in a world saturated by human hormones. Your kind is terrible at hiding their true reactions. As such, I suppress my abilities to give me some peace of mind. You can keep your twisted desires to yourself."

Oh wow, okay.

You don't try to defend yourself but you do take a small step back. You don't like feeling cornered. His eyes take in every small detail and you have a feeling that even on suppressants, he can read you just fine.

"Papa?" A small voice speaks up, and both of you look towards the kitchen doorway.

Mr. Araza's son is so dang cute, is your first thought.

You've never seen a young naga before and he's only five. His tail is small, almost stubby. He has no claws or scales other than the ones on his tail. On the whole, he looks far less intimidating. He's also wearing a shirt.

His pupils are wide and curious as his eyes fall on you, but they shrink as soon as he looks at his father.

"I finished," he says softly, scooting closer and holding up a small handwriting booklet.

As soon as Mr. Araza takes the booklet, he shoots out of the room, terribly clumsy. You've seen videos of actual snakes on tiles, their bodies twisting but going nowhere. He sort of looks like that. It could be cute, but more than anything, it's uncomfortable to watch him struggle knowing that he lives in a house that's almost exclusively covered in sleek wood floors.

"Are you punishing him?" You ask softly. "I mean, it's none of my business, but-"

"Yes," Mr. Araza says, staring down at the page with a frown.

The letters and numbers his son has traced are wobbly.

"That's really not bad," you say quietly. "For a five-year-old."

"He ate a mouse."

"What?" You sputter.

"That's why I'm punishing him. He caught and ate a mouse."

You try very hard to school your expression and you don't know what to say. You already guessed that nagas are carnivores, so you're not sure whether eating mice is a bad thing and why.

Mr. Araza sighs, looking rather aggravated as he closes the booklet and tosses it on the counter.

"Unregulated food sources are strictly forbidden. I cannot know what that mouse has eaten and if it is clean or not. He knows this, but ate it anyway."

"Oh. I will, um, make sure he doesn't eat any mice or err, spiders or anything else." You say.

That seems to please him. "I have a chart on the fridge with his nutritional needs and portion sizes.  The meat is in the fridge. Let it thaw to room temperature but do not cook it. Not even a little. Understood?"

"Crystal clear," you say.

He huffs. "I will be in my room getting ready. Do acquaint yourself with him. He is in his room, first door on the left."

You do as he has asked, climbing the stairs up to the kid's room. The fact that nagas move on their tails means that he's a bit shorter than human kids his age. With that in mind, the doorknob is way too high up.

You hear the hiss of scales coming up the stairs. The more you think about it, nothing in the house is accommodating to nagas. You're pretty sure if you checked the bathroom you'd find a human toilet.

"Um, Mr. Araza?" You turn to him.

He pauses in the doorway of his bedroom and glances over his shoulder. "Yes?"

"Why are you living in this house? It's a nice place, but it's built for humans," you say. "I understand if your reasons are private, but what about your son? Don't you want things to be easy for him?"

Mr. Araza blinks, double eyelids closing over his eyes for a moment. "Most of the world is built to accommodate your kind alone. I will not have my son fumbling in unfamiliar surroundings. He will learn how to manage."

"Isn't it a little soon?" You ask, but all you get as a response is the thud of his door closing.

You blow out a breath and knock on his son's bedroom door.

"Can I come in?"

"Okay," a small, shy voice replies.

You push open the door and step into a cluttered, but clean room. Colorful drawings are stuck all over the walls and most of them feature two-legged blobs. Humans. You idly wonder what his father thinks of that.

"Hi," you say to the boy. "Sam, right?"

His bed is piled high with stuffed animals and blankets, stacked up around him like a little nest. He nods, curly hair falling into his eyes.

"Are you going to watch me while Papa works?" He says, his lisp far more pronounced than his father's.

"Yes. We can do anything you want," you tell him.

"Can we make pictures?" He says, eyes going round.

"Sure!" You say.

He has an entire setup, a scratched and worn table, and a giant box filled with coloring pencils, crayons, small jars of poster paint, and oil pastels. It's pretty messy, and you make a mental note to sort everything out nicely later.

He takes a piece of paper and gives you one as well, and throws himself enthusiastically into it. His tongue flickers out of his mouth subconsciously, and you try not to jump each time.

"What are you drawing?" You ask him after a while

"A tree!" He says, and points at a darker, tangled shape in the branches. "And that's Papa when he rescued a cat."

"That's nice of him to do," you say.

He nods, smearing green oil pastels to make grass and leaves. "The lady wasn't nice. Papa gave her the cat but she called him a bad word and walked away. She didn't say thank you!"

"Some people are meanies," you say. "But I'm sure the cat was grateful."

You see movement in the corner of your eye. Mr. Araza is standing in the doorframe, putting on a tie. He's wearing a crisp suit with gold cuff links that match his eyes.

"I'm going to send your Papa off, okay? Keep coloring," you say, standing up.

"His mother used to color with him like that," Mr. Araza says as you near him.

"Really. I think we'll get along okay," you murmur as you follow him down the stairs. "Sam is sweet."

"You wouldn't like to see him when he's hungry," Mr. Araza huffs with a flicker of amusement. "I will call at midday."

With that, he leaves. You turn to head back up the stairs. Sam is done with his picture.

"Do you want to do another one?" You ask, and he nods eagerly.

This is going to be a piece of cake.

Part 2

#exophilia #monster x reader #monster x human #naga