#we had a whole ass spitting frank day

[frnkiebby]

that is in fact the mood~🎃

#me @ the fact that i have to work tomorrow #which is fine #but don’t want #gonna look like an unkempt pile of blankets #at least frank is cute when he does it #i mean he’s cute doing whatever #we had a whole ass spitting frank day #and he was still more than cute #fuck #okay i need to go to bed now #kthxbye #frnkiebby #frank iero #mcr #mcr5 #mcrmy #frnkiero #frnkie #my chemical romance #my chem

[the-firebird69]

Got to give her a friend a break it's having a tough time and he needs some contract for the house and find out people are using it against us a lot of clones and Sherry is having a tough time and we're still here so we should be doing the job and a lot of people want to say to him that's one thing it's kind of weak though the other part is you're here and you wanted to come stan and there's no contract and stuff so you know it kind of lame

Bg

Oh

Trump

I'm going to bring it by when we can we need to help with it

Sherry

And I'm going to print that stupid crap you're doing right there caa

Garth

Now I'm going I lied I stayed🎸🎸🎸

Zues Hera hahaha it's a journey song and it's Sherry but it's spelled c h e r r y

Very excuse for this could you two shut up

Sherry

Shut up I love you I'm going to get the contract over and you're not me John remillard

Stan

I'm not an a****** we're trying to get the contract I don't understand what we're saying we're going to put them somewhere else where in the hospital I'm trying to take it over and get my ass kicked I guess it's going to go on for a while

Trump

he says why don't things happen normally like a contracts while people are fighting each other it works with the card he got spit out here in like a two days

Zues Hera

We're going to make it happen and we know what happened up there people noted the clones are everywhere and they're noting they're down here and they did it with a show but it didn't take hold like it did up there and it's about the cocaine here and it's about to go on and Donnie brasco is going on right now as is serpicol but that's up North but let's carface is related to it and it's a drug trade and they traced it and they're fighting over the stuff he says we should get the Don Johnson boat out and help him with that it'll be up like up north so I'm going to go ahead and do it it's just to get him a contract I agreed with him and it's true in Elizabeth's did too and Hera and the guys too Frank Castle hardcastle said it's a good thing and it's a good thing he's doing it but we have to get going on this and Duke Nukem Blockbuster said this is our job and we're just sitting here looking at him not really but boy it's frustrating so it's kind of the same thing up there then jumped on it and there's a whole bunch of fighting over the bank and down here there's a bank and it's BB&t and it's SunTrust and the same thing can happen and it probably should we see it happening too and with the contracts so I don't know it would be Sherry and her area and Stan and whatever the realty company is probably bigger than three houses and so they have like 500,000 houses and Mac has like 10 million under the same name and so the kind of joining forces sort of and because these people are not helping they found the same thing up there a bunch of jerks about it and they don't they don't know what they're doing or talking about I'm going to get it going and that was Frank Castle hardcastle. And we thank him very much for the work he helped with the castle house very much and really the subliminal message took and his idea is awesome my son had that idea but he went ahead and made it work and came up with a lot of tech and he should be commended for it because he did it before our son

Thor Freya

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Shut up

Summary: Working as the only female doctor at a high security prison can be scary sometimes. When Frank Castle was brought in the first time he looked like hell. Now, fully recovered you insisted to keep seeing him weekly. But for a whole different reason than making sure that he was fully healed.

Pairing: Frank Castle x fem. Reader

Wordcount: 1.9k

Rating: E for Explicit (minors dni)

Warnings: smut (unprotected sex, finger fucking, Oral; M receiving) Spitting, Anal Play, choking, one (or two) slaps, dirty talk

A/N: I have... no excuse for this. I also know nothing of prisons or how prison doctors work (probably not like that... no definitely not like that, as if people were left alone with Frank Castle in a room lol) Please accept this filth as my entry into the Punisher fandom lol

The knock at the door made you jump.

It wasn’t like you weren’t expecting the knock. He was your last patient of the day. Like every Friday. You would have almost 45 minutes with him. Alone. In this room. Without cameras or guards around.

You took one last look in the mirror, cursing yourself immediately.

He was just a patient.

A patient who had fucked your brains out every Friday when he came for his check up since the time he got into the fight that left him with a broken nose and a concussion.

He didn’t have to come to see you anymore. He was perfectly fine, but you kept searching for reasons to insist him coming and he didn’t argue against it.

You took a deep breath before you pulled your keycard through the slit next to the door. The guard opened the door seconds later and pushed Frank Castle into your room. He was wearing the orange jumpsuit and… was that a black eye?

“I’ll take it from here,” you said after the guard sat Frank down on the chair in front of your desk.

“Ring if he makes you any trouble. I’ll stay outside,” the guard nodded, as he took off the handcuffs, giving Frank a pointed look who just nodded once before the guard walked out the door and closed it behind him. You waited for the familiar click of the locking system before you turned around, resting your hip against your desk.

Frank looked up at you, his eyebrow raised.

“That looks like it hurt,” you said, pointing to his eye.

‘“Ahhh been through worse,” he shrugged.

“Why didn’t you come to see me?”

“You weren’t here,” he said, leaning back in the chair, his legs spread wide.

You hummed as you took your white coat off.

“So you gonna stand there all day or…”

“Eager, are we?” you asked and he cocked his head to the side.

“We have 42 minutes. And I won’t be here next week so…”

“Why won’t you be here next week?” you asked and he gave you a pointed look.

“Ah okay. My lips are sealed,” you nodded.

“I sure hope not…” he smirked and you sighed as you began to unbutton the blouse you were wearing.

“Filthy boy…” you teased.

“Who do you call boy here?” he asked.

You just grinned, enjoying how he sucked his bottom lip in, his eyes darkening as he saw the sheer white lace you were wearing beneath your blouse.

You made quick work on getting out of your clothes, folding them over your chair before you walked over to him. You put your hands on his shoulders as you sat down on his lap, straddling him, his hands grabbing onto your ass immediately to pull you closer.

His lips were on you immediately. Pressing against yours,his tongue pushing in between your lips, dipping into your mouth. You moaned quietly, your hands on the back of his neck.

“You look so fucking innocent all in white Doc…” he mumbled and you felt his hand reach for the clasp of your bra, pushing it off your shoulder. His hands found your breasts immediately, his big hands groping them and you began to roll your hips, feeling him hard and ready between your legs.

“Can you cum like this?” he asked. You shook your head. He chuckled, one hand letting go and wasting no time to push inside your panties.

“You’re always so wet… Is fucking prisoners making you wet?”

“Shut up and make me cum, Castle,” you pulled at his hair and he cocked his eyebrow, keeping his eyes on you as he pushed two fingers inside of you.

“Fuck…”

“Ride them,” he said huskily and you groaned as you kissed him and began to ride his fingers. The kiss was wet and nasty and fuck it felt so good. You arched your back as he added a third finger, panting quietly as his lips sucked on your breast, closing around your nipple.

You felt the familiar pull in your stomach, you were so close you just needed…

Frank pulled his fingers out of you and you moaned frustrated.

“What the…” you began but he picked you up, setting you down on the patient bench.

You watched him as he licked his fingers clean, moaning like it was the best meal he’d ever tasted before he began to get his overall off. He smirked at you, giving you a wink and you reached for him greedily.

“Gonna miss me, Doc?”

“Guess I have to find someone else for my weekly fix,” you challenged and his jaw clenched. He didn’t like that.

“You thinking you gonna find someone who can fuck you like this?” he asked.

He grabbed your legs, propping them up against his body as he pulled your panties off. You grinned, stretching your arm over your head, arching your back and he groaned, his eyes on your tits.

He spit on your pussy before he spit in his hand, fisting his cock.

You shuddered, parting your legs even wider for him.

“The clock is ticking, Castle,” you challenged and he huffed, stepping closer and you felt his cock poking at your entrance.

“Gotta make sure you won’t forget whose pussy this is huh?” he said and pushed his whole length into you. You bit your lip to keep yourself from moaning out loud. He gave you a moment, kissing your calf.

He began to move, thrusting into you slowly for a couple times, before he leaned down, his hand finding your throat as he pumped into you hard and fast as he folded you almost in half. He just let his hand rest on your throat, his fingers rubbing over your skin.

“I want you to cum,” he snarled, his hand just giving the slightest pressure.

“And then I want to fuck your mouth until I shoot my cum down your throat…” he pressed and you whimpered, your hand covering his on your throat, showing him that he could use more pressure.

“Filthy girl,” he grinned, finally choking you like he knew you liked it.

“Cum on my cock, come on,” he leaned down, changing the angle in which he was fucking you while his hand chocked you harder and you came. Hard. Your whole body shaking as you parted your lips in a silent cry. He let go of your throat while he fucked you through your orgasm, his hand massaging your breast.

“Best fucking pussy…” he groaned. His other hand slipped between your legs, rolling your clit and you cried out, his other hands coming up to cover your mouth in the next moment to silence you. Frank chuckled as he looked at you.

“Bet I could make you cum again like this…” he hummed, thrusting into you deep while his finger rubbed over your clit.

“Frank… Fuck please…” you mumbled under his hand.

“Aww. Please what?” he mocked you and fuck you wanted to slap his handsome face. Instead you put one of your feet against his chest to push him off of you, earning a confused stare. You hopped from the bench and turned around, wiggling your ass towards him.

“Tick Tock, Castle,” you said, giving him a smirk as you looked over your shoulder. He shook his head with a chuckle, one of his hands giving your ass a hard smack that had you groan loudly.

“I dream about this ass,” he said before he was back inside of you, his hands on your hips. You met his thrusts, already feeling close again.

“Wonder if you would let me fuck you…” you felt his fingers rubbing over your puckered hole, “here. Think about it all the damn time…”

You bit your lip.

“Maybe next time…” you hummed and Frank groaned behind you.

“Fuck, you tell me that now. Now I gotta find you when I’m done with this shit…”

“Frank please… I’m so close…”

“Yeah? Then cum….” he thrusted faster while he kept rubbing over your other hole and that was all it took and you soaked his cock. He slapped your ass again before he pulled out.

“On your knees, Doc,” he said and even though you felt like sleeping for a day after the orgasms he gave you, you pushed yourself off the bench and got on your knees in front of him. He looked down at you, his hand on your cheek before he pushed two of his fingers into your mouth.

“Keep that pretty mouth open,” he said as he pulled his fingers out and grabbed his cock, pushing it between your lips. You relaxed your jaw, keeping your eyes on Frank as he slowly thrusted inside your mouth.

“Fuck baby…” he moaned, his hand on the back of your head to keep you still while he thrusted deeper and deeper until his cock hit the back of your throat.

“Relax for me…” he hummed and you felt your eyes water as his cock pushed down your throat. You moaned as he fucked your mouth, getting deeper and deeper until your nose nuzzled in his pubic hair.

“Fucking hell Doc… I’m gonna cum….” he grunted just before you felt him twitch and spill down your throat.

He was breathing hard as he slipped his cock out of your mouth and you grinned up at him as you gathered some of his cum in the corner of your mouth and brought it to your lips.

“So fucking filthy…” he shook his head before he helped you up and kissed you hard.

“You love it,” you murmured against his lips and he just grinned before he kissed you again.

“So.. Do I want to know what your plan is?” you asked after he helped you dress yourself. You were checking yourself in the tiny mirror, yet only a shower would make the “I’ve just been fucked” look go away. You splashed some water in your face.

“Nah. The less you know the better.”

“Okay,” you said quietly as you turned around. He was standing behind you, his fingers tilting your chin up.

“I never asked why you kept up with me? You know who I am.”

“I… I don’t think you’re a bad person.” He huffed and rolled his eyes.

“I’m serious Frank. You see something that’s shitty and you take care of it. No matter what. I respect that. And you can be charming as fuck if you want to.”

“So the whole killing thing doesn’t bother you?”

“As long as I won’t end up on your list…” you shrugged and he just looked at you like you grew a second head before he smirked.

“Oh you’re on top of one of my lists…”

“Is there anyone else on it?” you grinned as you crossed your arms behind his neck.

“Nah,” he shook his head.

“We have two minutes left,” you whispered and he sighed.

“I’m gonna find you Doc.”

“Yeah?”

“You bet your ass I will.”

It was almost six weeks later after your Friday shift that you found Frank Castle in your apartment.

Looking like hell.

But you’d gladly spend the whole weekend taking care of him if it meant he’d stay.

And he did.

Taglist:

@myguiltypleasures21 / @phoebe-danvers / @mrslizzyolsen

also tagging @sizzlingcloudmentality & @anaaaispunk cause i think you might enjoy this lol

#my fic #frank castle #frank castle x female reader #the punisher #jon bernthal #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction

[russadler]

RUSSADLER’S KINKTOBER: DAY ONE

EXPLICIT/18+ CONTENT AHEAD

Frank Woods x F!Reader Smut

Day One: Handjobs

Frank Woods x F!Reader

A/N: K I decided to do kinktober literally last minute so sorry I’m late lol. TO pick each day, I’m using a combination of a kinktober list that was sent to me by a lovely friend and requests. I decided to do more than just Adler because I write alot of him LMFAO and I wanted to explore some other characters too! For choosing a character each day, I’m using an online wheel that pick a random name lol enjoy even tho its short and also I’ve never written frank so idk what im doing lol

“What do you think?” 

Frank is splayed across the bed behind you, deeply invested in watching you try on swimwear. You’re headed out to the beach later today with some friends, and though Frank would be in a meeting at work, you had decided he at the very least deserved a sneak peek of what he would be missing out on. 

Right now you’re modelling your pick for the day, a little black bikini that was expertly fitted to your body. 

Maybe it was a little small, maybe. Just a tad.

“What do I think? Babe, you’re hot.” The man praises, making no move to hide the way he’s devouring you with his eyes. You smile, gnawing sheepishly at your lip as you accept the praise. 

Frank moves to sit up, maneuvering himself to sit on the edge of the bed. “C’mere.” He rumbles, tattooed arms stretched out in offering. 

You advance, moving to grip his shoulders as you stand between his spread legs. Frank reaches out to grasp your ribs, thumbs rubbing reverently against your skin. 

“Jesus.” He murmurs, calloused hands tracing down the curves of your body. 

You shut your eyes, lips parting as you release a pleased sigh. Once he reaches your hips, he gives the flesh a light squeeze before sliding his hands forward to grip your ass. 

He looks up with a heated gaze, growling as he squeezes harshly at the meat of your ass while yanking you towards him. You stumble forward, nails digging into his shoulders as you steady yourself. 

“Fuck, you’re sexy.” The man growls. “It’s too bad I got work soon…” he continues, sounding dismayed at the fact. He reaches up to pinch at a nipple through the fabric of your bathing suit, causing you to squeak with surprise.

“I promise if we had the time…” Frank hums, smiling deviously to himself and shaking his head as he no doubt imagines a whole range of obscene scenarios. He reaches down to play with the string of your bottoms. “I would have been fucking your brains out by now.”

Your thighs rub together, core tingling at the combination of his touches and dirty talk. It’s then that an idea comes to you. 

“Stand up.” You whisper, and Frank just hums absentmindedly, still fixated on the lines of your body. You jostle him again and repeat yourself, and the man finally comes to. 

He rises, visibly perplexed. You swap places with him, seating yourself on the bed with the taller standing above. 

Your fingers move to unbutton the man’s pants, his eyes darting to the clock. “Babe…” He rumbles. hands moving to halt your movements. “I don’t have time…I gotta leave soon.”

You shove him off, determined to see your plan - and him - to completion. “We can make this fast.” You smile. 

His pants successfully unbuttoned, manicured fingers move to pull his hardening length free of his boxers. Your eyes meet his, lips morphed into a teasing smile as you grip the swelling flesh in your hand as the man sighs. 

Your attention then turns to the task at hand, leaning down to spit messily onto his cock as you begin to eagerly stroke him. Woods rumbles with a cut off groan from deep within his chest, a hand moving to grip your hair as you work.

One hand is at his cock, and the other massages his balls, working the precum out of him with vigorous movements. You spit on him more, the addition of his copious amounts of his fluid making it so he’s just absolutely sopping. 

“Fuck…Go faster, baby.” He growls, the grip in your hair tightening until your scalp aches in the most exquisite way. “Come on, make me fucking cum.” He urges, his visible arousal enticing you further.

The hand at his balls moves to join the other, both gripping his fattened dick and jerking it with rapid movements as you release a quiet sigh of your own. Your hips shift of their own accord on the mattress, seeking some stimulation as your arms burn with effort. 

Frank continues to groan, cursing under his breath as his girlfriend makes a mess of his cock. You watch him, eyes dilated with ecstasy. 

It’s then you get another idea, smiling to yourself as you put your plans in motion. 

Quickly you free your breasts from the bikini top, tucking the fabric out of the way. Leaning forward, you begin to rub the man’s wet cock against the flesh of your chest. Nipples hardening as you maneuver his length against your skin with a near pornographic moan. 

“Oh shit.” Frank hisses, his eyes fixated on the vulgar act before him.“You want me to cum all over those fucking tits?” He growls, a hand moving to grip your chin. His thumb traces your wet lips, thumb pressing harshly at the seam of your lips asking for entry. You humored him, mouth opening to suck on the digit.

“You like that?” He asks lowly, moving his thumb in and out of your mouth as you nod vigorously, more than ready for his release to paint her skin white. 

You go faster then, jerking his cock at a punishing pace in rapid pursuit of his release. The man grips your face tighter, pulling more moans from your throat as he lets out a chorus of his own. 

You work his dick against your now wet chest, chasing his orgasm with determination. 

It’s messy, but at least only on your part. 

Frank still had a meeting to make. 

The man grabs the base of his cock, lightly slapping it against your chest with a pleased rumble. He moves to rub the weeping head against a nipple. You let out a quiet mewl, pinching your own nipples as he moves against you. 

“I’m gonna make such a fucking mess of you.” He groans, head thrown back as he begins to rapidly jerk himself off. You know with the way he’s groaning, his body coiling with the intensity that he’s close. 

You grip the sides of his legs, clawing at the fabric of his pants as you urge him to cum. “Please…” You plead, staring at him from beneath your eyelashes. “Frank.”

A cutoff groan tumbles from deep within his throat, cursing loudly as cum sprays from the head of his cock. His semen coats your skin in powerful spurts, the head of his cock dragging through the mess he’s made on your chest as he squeezes the last of his release out. 

There’s so much, and by the time he’s done you know you’re going to need to shower. 

Frank stumbles back, the wind nearly knocked out of him with the force of his orgasm. “Holy fuck.” He pants, chest heaving. “Baby, you’re incredible.” 

Frank grips the sides of your face and plants you with an impassioned kiss. You smile as you reciprocate the affection, content despite the fact you hadn’t been able to get off yourself. You knew he’d return the favor later, he always did. 

“I need a shower.” You giggle, looking down at the mess on your chest. 

“And a new swimsuit. Sorry babe.” Woods huffs with a laugh, grabbing a washcloth and wiping the bulk of the mess away. 

“Good thing I bought an extra one.” You smile, moving to remove the garment from your body. “Did you want to see that one too?” 

Frank’s eyes dart to the clock, and he smirks. “I’ve got a spare minute.”  

Your eyes meet his, and your smile brightens. 

Good thing you work fast. 

(He’s very late to his meeting.) 

#i tried lol #idk im just winging it lets see how this goes #but i hope yall liked it i guess #frank woods #frank woods smut #frank woods x reader #black ops cold war #bocw #bocw fanfic #black ops cold war fanfic #black ops cold war smut #bocw smut #mine #my writing #kinktober 2021

[cartierbin]

could i get 16 with chan and eating you out 🥵🥵

thank you for requesting baby

『 16. “fuck, you like that, don’t you?”.

pairing — chan x reader

genre — smut , movie day cuddling with chan gone wrong

word count — 1.289k 』

smut under the cut !

with overbearing hours and numerous work tasks to fill them it was safe to say that you and chan worked your absolute asses off that week. the both of you were barely home and when you were, it was much too late to do much of anything and it mostly resorted to eating a small dinner and going directly to bed. but it was a rainy weekend finally. you and chan had slept so much on your off day that you thought it was pretty comical how you both woke up at the same time that dreary saturday afternoon.

with the rain beating against every window in your apartment and thunder wavering in the darkened skies, you thought today would be more than a perfect day to finally relax and watch a film. Chan was quite excited about it also and suggested that you two watch a movie that was actually interesting. alas, the both of you settled on a marvel movie and collected blankets and snacks to sit on the couch with. the living room was dark and the size of your shared plasma tv was so inviting, your living room was quite a comfy feel especially on rainy days like this. chan was grateful for being able to spend it with you and it was quite obvious, he hadn’t unwrapped his hands from around your body ever since the movie started. you didn’t mind because he was warm and to be frank, you missed him. his head fell into the crook of your neck before he perched it up instead.

“baby I missed you. I feel like I haven’t saw you at all this week”, he admitted into the space between his face and yours. you take your eyes off the screen and instead play with his crinkly messy hair with a pout of agreement. “aw I missed you too. our work schedules were insane. but it’s alright I’m happy we get to spend time together finally”. you smiled lightly and chan did the exact same, leaning in for a small peck on your lips. once you both pulled away chan felt a tinge of disappointment at the lost. The delicacy of your lips made him realize that not only has he not been seeing you as often as he’d like but he realized he wasn’t touching you either. his eyes fall over your features, your neck was vacant. he remembered on your normal weeks he left with at least a couple of hickies from the day before. but this week your skin was free of evidence from his ministrations and he wholeheartedly felt guilty.

he pulls you closer and you think it was just a loving gesture. which it was, only chan wanted to make sure your body was in reach. he starts off latching his lips to the skin of your cheek while cupping the other with one hand, brushing his tongue along the underside of your neck. you threw your hand on Chan’s thigh with a small sigh of delight and shock. you could feel his teeth grazing ever so slightly over the tender flesh of your neck, gifting you a sanctuary of hickies and marks that you knew you’d never be able to cover. your heart sank when the both of you exchanged heated gazes for a swift moment — the moment right before he slipped his hands underneath your shirt and toyed with your nipples while sticking his tongue in your mouth. you approved it’s entrance and started sucking on it a little, a move that chan was quite fond of. his tiny groans of need were the cause behind the moisture and heat in between your legs.

he cups his hand over your clothed pussy and massages it while his lips overlapped yours, entrapping you in a sequence of saliva filled kisses that left you thoughtless for a while. he could feel you subtly grinding into the palm of his hand in need of more friction for your aching bud. “oh my god I’ve been such a bad boyfriend to you— your pussy hasn’t been devoured in days”. he spoke in a hushed tone between kisses. you whine a little at the thought, chan spoiled you with many things and frequent oral sex was one of them. it was a shame really, how long it’s been since you felt his lips on your pussy.

he wasted no time lying your body down on the couch and wrestling your pants and panties off tossing them across the room. you breathed and spread your legs wide so he could see how puffy and wet it was just for him. just for his mouth. just for his tongue. he grips the creases of your thighs and pulls you downward closer to his face. he lowers himself hovering over it just enough to gather saliva between his cheeks and spit a thick line of it over your sopping wet folds. he lowered himself yet again to clean up his mess, eyes giving a death glare to the chubby clit that was peaking up from your spongy hood. your back arches off the couch a bit at the immediate feeling of Chan’s soft lips against your most sensitive parts and the way his nose nuzzled against your pubic mound. no matter how much he ate you his mouth could never get old.

you worked your hands through his hair with the movie not even having a place in your mind anymore. Chan’s thick lips were framed deliciously against your folds, lapping up his mess made even more of a mess as gushes of slick extenuated from your hole. chan made it his mission to taste every crease, nook and cranny he could get to. your pussy was his playground and he never got tired of playing. he flat tongues the whole glistening organ, a pretty mixture of his saliva and your own juices leaking to your inner thighs. you wiggle your hips a bit and whine, throwing a hand back to grip the arm of the couch behind you. “fuck channie”. but chan never talked much during this, it was his art after all. instead he lets his tongue do the talking, sucking on the bundle of nerves just beneath your hood. chan could die like this. small satisfied groans bubble from his throat while he devours the throbbing little organ ahead of him. god chan wanted to die just like this.

the room was practically sweltering in the moment and the moist folds of your pussy was so raw and hot against Chan’s mouth. your breathy whimpers hitched their way out into the surrounding air and you rut your hips against his mouth unable to get enough. chan parts the petal lips with his hand, revealing the inner parts that begged for his attention also. upon sight he spits yet again and dug his tongue into your hole, everything sticky and adequately warm. you squirmed above him with your chest heaving in absolute bewilderment, he always devoured you as if you were the last meal he’d ever have. “channie! fuck—fuck I’m going to cum in your mouth”. your cries stroke his ego and it’s just what he needed to delve his tongue deeper into you without a care in the world for how much you could take. the finger shaped bruises he was making in your skin due to his strong grip had began to hurt, and the slurping noises overpowered the sounds from the television, unbearably obscene. the way you cried above him made him impossibly hard but he refused to touch himself during this. he loved making this moment strictly for you and his own enjoyment. you sob, vaguely recognizing the tears that were cascading down your cheeks. the pleasure overwhelming you and making you see white, an orgasm settles deep in your belly and the need to cum surpassed anything else. your pussy contracted as he continuously tongue fucked you, he was going to make you cream all over his tongue as if his life depended on it.

“fuck, you like that don’t you? you’re so fucking cute when you shake on my face like this”.

#chan smut #bangchan smut #stray kids smut #stray kids imagines #skz imagines

[babymetaldoll]

Danger days - Chapter two: "I'm the kinda that you wanna"

Pairing: Matthew Gray Gubler x OC + My Chemical Romance.

Word count: 5.5K

Summary: Joey faces MCR after their awful first meeting. Matthew supports whatever she decides to do with her life. Gerard is still kind of an asshole, and Frank tries his best to be a better person.

Warnings: Cursing.

A/N: WOW!! I can't believe you are actually reading this!! thank you for the love!! I was gonna post this tomorrow, but... here it is.

Masterlist

Chapter one | Chapter two | Chapter three | Chapter four | Chapter five | Chapter six | Chapter seven | Chapter eight | Chapter nine | Chapter ten | Chapter eleven | Chapter twelve | Chapter thirteen | Chapter fourteen | Chapter fifteen | Chapter sixteen | Chapter seventeen | Chapter eighteen | Chapter nineteen | Chapter twenty | Chapter twenty one | Chapter twenty-two | Chapter twenty-three | Chapter twenty-four |

--

::: Los Angeles, October 14th, 2010 :::

Mikey ate his breakfast alone, sitting at the kitchen island. He was thinking about the daily schedule, the band's upcoming tour, and clearly, the severe problems in his marriage, the one subject he kept trying to avoid.

His wife was still asleep, and he didn't want to be around when she woke up. He knew it only meant another fight. Whenever they were in the same room, it always meant an argument, and Mikey was tired of it all.

It was clear they had to get a divorce, but neither of them had brought it up just yet.

He and Alicia had grown apart in the latest months. It was hard with him touring for so long and his wife staying home, persuading her own future in the music industry. And after so much time apart, they were both tired of trying. It just wasn't working anymore.

Frank and Ray were staying at the same hotel. They drove together to the practice studio, doing their best to agree on their ideas about Joey. But they weren't really on the same page at all.

- "Just don't be an ass, ok?"- Ray said when he parked outside the studio, and Frank immediately lit a cigarette.

- "Yeah, whatever,"- Toro got out of the car and closed the door, staring at his friend leaning against the wall to smoke alone- "I'll be right there."

Iero grabbed his phone and read the messages in a vague attempt to think of anything else. But that didn't help at all; Joey parked her car just before him that very second.

- "Shit!"- the two of them said at the same time. Frank put on his dark sunglasses, and Joey grabbed all her things from the passenger seat.

- "I can't catch a break!"- she argued as she opened the door and decided to get over the horribly awkward moment- Hey!- she smiled and waved as Frank nodded- "How are you?"

- "Good, you?"

- "Good..."- and it was still awkward- "So, thank you for inviting me again,"- and Frank nodded again, not saying a word- "I'll... head... inside then."

Joey tried to smile, but it was too uncomfortable to bear. So she ran away.

- "Did you catch the game last night?"- Mikey asked as he sipped his coffee, while Ray grabbed a guitar and started tuning it.

- "No, I played video games until late."

- "What are you playing?"

- "Red dead redemption"

- "Cool, and Christa?"

- "She's back home with her parents,"- Ray kept turning the guitar and never noticed Mikey's sad face- "And Alicia?"

- "She's home. She was sleeping when I left."

- "Is everything ok?"

- "Yeah"- and again, Ray was so concentrated on his guitar, he didn't catch a glimpse of Mikey's sad look.

- "Hello"- Joey walked in, and the two guys smiled- "Am I too early?"

- "No, you are just on time,"- Ray stood up and grabbed a cup of coffee- "I got you this."

- "Oh! thank you!"- Joey was surprised by the gesture- "You shouldn't have."

- "I owed you,"- Toro kind of blushed as Joey held the cup and took a sip.

- "Black, no sugar. How did you know?"

- "I didn't know if you liked cream, and I got a lot of sugar on a side"- Ray quickly answered and showed Joey a bunch of sugar bags on a tray.

- "You nailed it."

- "Hey"- Mikey kinda whispered in a low voice- "I'm sorry, I thought you were getting us coffee and stuff yesterday."

- "Dude, it's ok, don't worry,"- Joey smiled and kept drinking her coffee- "Now I know if I get the job, I can get you black coffee with almond milk to brighten your day"- and he chuckled.

- "And thank you for coming over again."

- "My pleasure,"- Joey answered and stayed quiet looking at the two guys- "So... I saw Frank outside."

- "Yeah, he was smoking, and Gerard should be right here by now,"- Mikey took a look at his wristwatch. It was almost noon, and he knew his brother was going to be late.

Gerard was driving and smoking, trying to devise anything to avoid going to the studio and doing another audition with that woman. He didn't want to. Why? Way really didn't know. It was something inside of him that made him feel like he should stay the fuck away from her 'cos something terrible might happen. And he didn't want to find out what it was.

- "Hey"- Frank waved at Gee when he walked out of his car- "You are late."

- "Yeah, I didn't want to come,"- and Iero chuckled- "What are you doing here?"

- "I didn't want to get in just yet."

- "Is she here already?"

- "Yeah... she got here all happy like fifteen minutes ago."

- "Fine... let's get this over with,"- Gerard walked in and did his best not to look annoyed, which was virtually impossible, 'cos he couldn't stop frowning.

As soon as they walked into the studio, the image was Joey, Ray, and Mikey laughing like they were already best friends. And that got Gerard even more upset, if possible, and because of no reason at all.

- "Hey!"- Mikey stood up and hugged his brother.

- "Hi, nice to see you again,"- Joey reached out for Gerard's hand and smiled to do the same with Frank.

- "Thank you for coming,"- he whispered and cleared his throat. The drummer looked around at the band and started the speech she had prepared in her mind the whole morning.

- "Guys, I just wanted to clear the air here. If you don't want me to do this and you just called 'cos Tucker asked you to, there's no need to go through all this shit. I can go home, no hard feelings or anything"- and the band stayed quiet. Ray looked at Frank and waited for his words.

- "Joey, we just... why did you call Tucker? that was so rude!"

- "First of all, I didn't call him, he called and annoyed me for ten minutes before I told him what happened. And second, you were rude, you barely looked at me, you didn't even pay attention to what I did, and you clearly made up an interview to ask me to leave."

Joey directed those words looking right into Gerard's eyes and just spit the words, knowing that wasn't really gonna help her get the job.

- "Tucker didn't really lie, guys,"- Mikey said and tried to ease the mood- "You were rude at her, and I'm sorry to tell you, she's the best we've had so far."

- "Do you honestly think we can work together after what happened with Tucker?"- Gerard asked her, and she shrugged.

- "If you deal with the fact you were rude to me, then yeah, I've got no problem with it,"- and Frank huffed at that answer.

- "You made us look bad in front of a friend."

- "No, you looked bad in front of me, and when Tucker asked how had it been, were you expecting me to lie and tell him it was awesome? come on!"- Joey frowned, knowing that ship had sailed already- "This shit is high school all over again!"

- "I feel the same!"- Ray said and stood up- "Ok, let's get this straight, you two were assholes! And that's the main problem here! if she did or did not call Tucker to tell him about it, that's not the point!"

- "But dude!"-Frank tied to argue, but Ray stopped him.

- "No! this is our job, and we have to be professional. So now you are gonna be a grown-up, and you are going to apologize for being an asshole with no reason to her, 'cos she just came to apply for a job, ok?"

Ray looked more like a dad than like a band colleague at that point.

- "Sorry, Joey"- Frank whispered and looked down at his shoes. Ray looked at Gerard and raised an eyebrow

- "I'm sorry I was a jerk"- he mumbled

- "And I'm sorry I told Tucker you were assholes. He was really excited about the audition, and he was just trying to help me out. It clearly didn't work out, but he meant good."

Joey tried to be as nice as possible, thinking shit had gotten way too bad to even think about playing with this band.

- "Ok, now I'm gonna go so you can continue your drummer hunt."

- "Wait!"- Mikey held her arm and cut her a smile- "You should jam with us for a while."

- "I don't think that's a good idea. This got too complicated. And whether I'm good or not, I don't want this to be awkward for you. You are looking for someone to work with, it's your band, and you should be comfortable with who you choose."- Joey smiled and grabbed her bag- "I just wanted to thank you for apologizing and for caring about what happened. I'm gonna tell Tucker you are all very nice."- she joked, and the band looked at each other.

- "No, really, stay. We didn't ask you to come because of Tucker. We did it because we really want to give your audition another go,"- Frank's word surprised Joey. She wasn't really able to say a word back; she just nodded and smiled.

- "Great!"- Mikey clapped once and grabbed a bunch of papers from his bag- "I printed you some of the sheets of our songs,"- Joey held them and read them

- "Cool"

- "So... wanna warm-up?"

- "I already played two hours before I left the house."- she whispered, embarrassed of her confession- "Sorry, I just have this weird routine. I work out, eat and play in the early morning, just to get me through the day not killing anyone."

And Mikey chuckled. Frank kinda bit his lips to don't smile. He found it funny.

- "Great, then let's set us up,"- Ray smiled and walked to grab his guitar- "We remembered you were left-handed, so Mikey and I rearranged the drum set for you,"- Gerard raised an eyebrow staring at the scene.

- "Why is Ray so nice with her? Is he crushed on that girl? no way! he is a married man! married guys don't have crushes! it is impossible".

Joey read the music sheets and nodded. She had studied most of the songs, and though she had never been a huge fan of the band, she liked it enough to easily follow the tempo of each tune.

Gerard looked at her playing and hated the fact Mikey was right. She kept following each change they were doing and even threw a few herself that worked perfectly. He hated it 'cos she made it fun, and he wanted to hate her. Very childish of him, but yet, that's how he could describe it.

Frank looked at Mikey and then at Ray as they all played "Thank you for the Venom" and knew in his guts this was it. Musically this is what they needed. And also knew it was a shitty situation 'cos he had already made an enormous fuss and didn't really know how to fix it.

- "Shit!"- Ray said as soon as the song ended.

- "Yeah, that was great."- Gerard said and smiled. He knew he couldn't get away with it. Shit worked. And it worked awesomely- "Can we do "Parade"?"

- "Sure, just let me read it first. That's a long one,"- Joey said and grabbed one of the sheets. Mikey walked to his brother and raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to admit it.

- "I hate you."- Gerard whispered.

- "I know, just say it"

- "No"

- "Say it"- Mikey raised an eyebrow and kinda chuckled.

- "You were right. She's good,"- Gerard whispered, and his brother nodded.

- "God damn, I'm right!"

- "Ok, let's do this before I totally forget it..."- Joey said and smiled- "And who's gonna play the G note?"- the whole band stared at her, and she shrugged- "G note, not G spot, don't get scared"- Gerard chuckled, and he hated himself for it- "Come on pervs, let's do this!"

Somehow, Joey felt a little more in place between the guys, probably 'cos being a drummer, she was pretty used to hang out with men, from her teachers to classmates. She used to have girl bands growing up, but she found it easier working with guys professionally.

- "So, lunch?"- Ray asked and left his guitar aside. They had been jamming for over two hours.

- "Nice, I'm starving,"- Mikey did the same and turned to Joey- "Wanna come?"- she froze and looked at the whole band from behind the drums- "We are gonna go grab something to eat."

- "Yeah, then we can continue the practice,"- Gerard added and walked to the door. Joey kept in silence and looked at Mikey, smiling sweetly.

- "Ok... sure."

- "Great!"- Ray smiled- "Come on, are you a fan of Indian food? There's a fantastic place a few blocks from here!"

Frank sighed and walked outside to light a cigarette. He was sure Ray had a thing for Joey, and that upset him, most of all 'cos, just as Gerard had thought, Ray was a married man, and a happily married man, he shouldn't care about Joey that much. He was way into making her feel good. And that made Frank uncomfortable. And most of all, like a jerk for being mean to her in the first place.

- "Hey"- Joey appeared by his side all of a sudden and scared the shit out of him- "Sorry!"

- "I didn't know you were coming behind me."

- "Everybody had to pee. Apparently, they all have a small bladder,"- Frank grinned, lit a cigarette, and offered Joey one- "Thanks, I quit a few years ago."

- "Really? why?"

- "'Cos I stopped breathing... and found out I was asthmatic, which made total sense when I gave it a thought"- Frank nodded.

- "I shouldn't smoke either. My lungs are shit; I'm a bronchitis magnet."

- "I feel you"- Joey opened her backpack and took out her coconut butter hand cream. Frank looked at her and sort of smiled.

- "Do you want some? it's gonna be good to keep those tattoos from washing away"- Frank left the cigarette on his lips and grabbed the cream.

- "You are not even in the band yet, and you are making me use hand cream."

- "Tell you, what if I get the job I'll make sure I'll keep you moisturize every day,"- the young woman winked at him and saw the rest of the band walking towards them. She didn't notice Frank's face, who had turned purple after those words.

Matthew took a look at his clock as he walked outside the set. Joey should be back home by then, so he dialed her number and waited.

- "Hey, Akumu!"- he heard Joey's cheerful voice at the other side of the line and smiled.

- "Hey, Yami! How was it? Did you get the job? were those guys nice to you? are you ok?"

- "You are not gonna believe this, but we talked about it, and I have the feeling things are pretty much clear between us."

- "That's great, dorky! What are you doing now? are you back home?"

- "No, we came to grab something to eat, and then we'll continue rehearsing."

- "So you are still with the band then?"- Gubler was surprised, but happy things were working.

- "Yeah, and how's the reading going?"

- "Good, we've been at it the whole morning, now I'm about to eat something, and then I'll keep reading my lines."

- "Looking like a maniac pointing a fake gun made with your fingers?"

- "Just like any other day"- Matthew made a pause as he kept walking in circles, thinking about his girlfriend hanging somewhere with that band- "Hey, are those guys being nice to you?"

Joey looked back at the table where the band was eating and nodded, knowing her boyfriend couldn't see her.

- "Surprisingly, yes. They are all being very friendly. They apologize for being assholes yesterday."

- "Wow, really?"

- "Yeah, we had a weird deep talk in the morning. I think shit is cool now."

- "I'm glad, Yami."

- "Yeah, I've got the feeling they might actually give me the job."

- "That would be awesome."

- "I know! Anyway, Akumu, I have to go. I gotta do my best to be nice with these guys."

- "Please, don't be too nice. They don't really deserve it,"- Matthew joked, and Joey chuckled.

- "You are right, but mama needs to work."

- "But daddy can take care of you,"- Joey chuckled, making her best to process that information.

- "I love you so much, Gubler, but I can deal with this on my own."

- "I know you can."

- "Thank you."

- "I just wanna help."

- "Your support and love are all the help I need to make it."

- "So, what are we gonna do?"- Mikey asked his brother, and Gerard cleared his throat, looking at Joey talking on the phone on the other side of the diner.

- "I know you want her to stay, guessing Ray is dying to work with her,"- Gerard raised an eyebrow at his friend, and Frank nodded.

- "Yeah, you are way into that chick."

- "No way! I'm just trying to be nice 'cos you've been jerks."

- "Oh, come on!! you've got jizz all over your underwear!"- Frank's comment made Mikey laugh and almost choke with his lunch.

- "Dude, you went too far!"- Ray argued, disgusted- "And no, I don't have a crush on her, I just feel bad you made her so uncomfortable, and I'm trying to make it up for her."

The band looked at him in silence as Mikey kept coughing.

- "Dude, are you ok?"- Joey asked as she sat back at the table- "Do you want some water?"- and she reached out her glass to him, who took it and drank most of it.

- "Thanks"

- "What happened?"- the young woman asked, and Mikey smiled, breathing a little better.

- "We were talking about jizz"- Gerard covered his face with both hands as he heard his brother talking, and Joey laughed, nodding.

- "I'm so happy I was far away from you,"- Joey said and closed her eyes, pretending to be disgusted- "Anyway, Matthew says hi,"- she smiled at the band and continued eating.

- "Is he on set?"- Frank asked, staring at his food.

- "Table reading, tomorrow they start rehearsal and all those things I don't really remember 'cos I love him, but sometimes I don't follow all the steps into the shooting process."

They all smiled and nodded in silence for a moment. Gerard looked at Frank and lift his brows. Iero sighed and nodded.

- "So... do you wanna play with us for the next couple of months?"- Gerard just put out the question and stared directly into Joey's eyes. She looked at him surprised and didn't know what to say- "We have a very long tour, so we have to compromise to make it work."

- "I thought you hated me."

- "I don't hate you, none of us hates you... we just started with the wrong foot, but I think we can make it work,"- Gerard finished his words, nearly whispering. Joey's heart was racing. She couldn't believe she got the job, this was by far the best job Jo had ever have, and she couldn't wait to tell her parents. They were gonna be so proud.

- "I would love to play with you guys, thank you for the offering,"- Joey answered and grinned- "And again, I'm sorry for Tucker and all that shit."

- "Nah, forget it"- Ray quickly replied- "We know you are right for the band right now."

- "But if you are gonna be with us, we have to talk about the legal agreements"- Mikey said- "I hate that part, but we have to talk with our lawyers, do the paperwork."

- "Sure, not a problem."

- "And we are gonna need a tutorial to learn how to fucking spell your last name,"- Frank added and make everybody laugh. He looked at Joey smiling, and it felt like those few seconds were in slow motion, without any reason. Iero knew he was going to remember that particular moment for the rest of his life. He just didn't know why yet.

- "Yeah, what's the problem with your last name? when I called you yesterday, I had to practice it for a half-hour."

- "And you misspelled every single fucking letter in it, sorry"- she said to Ray and took a sip of her coke before she answered- "It's from Iceland, dad's from there. And my mom is from Colombia, which explains Maria Josefina ... I know, weirdest mix ever."

- "Wow, and what the fuck the last name thing?"- Frank asked and finished his food

- "Well, there your last name is defined by your father's name, so my dad's name is Sveinbjörn Sigmundsson"- the whole band stared at her with a blank look on their faces.

- "Sorry, what?"- Frank asked again

- "Sveinbjörn, it's a very common name."

- "Sure! sure it is!"- Iero laughed, and so did Joey.

- "Anyway, over there, your surname is your father's name and, in my case, the noun daughter, in Iceland, dottir, so my last name is Sveinbjörn, my dad's name, plus dottir, get it? Sveinbjörndottir, 'cos I am Sveinbjörn's daughter"- Gerard nodded and asked

- "And if you were a boy?"

- "I would be Sveinbjörnson... what's your dad's name?"

- "Donald"

- "In Iceland, you would be Gerard Donaldson"

- "Shit! my name would suck in Iceland!"- Frank grabbed his head and scratched it- "I would be Frank Frankson!"- and he burst out laughing

- "Dude! you are so lucky you are from Jersey!"- Ray said and turned to Joey- "So Maria Josefina is your mom's heritage and Sveinbjörndottir your father's."

- "Exactly, and that's why Joey is the best way to avoid people getting mistaken with my name."

- "Seems legit"- Gerard said and looked at everybody smiling. He turned to Joey and tried to study her face for a moment. Sure, her skin was paperwhite, and her eyes were slightly green, but she didn't look like the classic island chick you might imagine. Maybe there was too much Colombia on her.

- "What is it?"- she asked him when she found him staring at him.

- "Nothing"- he blushed and finished his coke- "I was just... trying to find any Icelandic feature on you"- she frowned immediately and didn't answer a word, obviously upset- "Sorry..."

Gerard drove back with Mikey. He wanted to avoid Ray being too nice at Joey, 'cos it still bothered him. And Mikey needed to talk about anything random with his brother to keep his mind busy.

- "Hey, maybe we should do something tonight"- Mikey asked his older brother.

- "Like what?"

- "I don't know... wanna go out? Maybe see some bands? Peter told me there are a few cool shows around this week."

- "Yeah, sure, let me ask Lynz if she wants to join us? what about Alicia?"- Mikey looked over the window and cleared his throat.

- "No, she told me she was meeting some friends tonight."

- "Everything ok?"

- "Yeah, it's all ok"- Mikey wasn't even making an effort to sound ok, but Gerard didn't notice- "So, thanks for what you did."

- "What did I do?"

- "You took an executive decision for the band"

- "I hope Frank doesn't kill me"

- "He won't"

- "And I stand by the fact Ray has a crush on her"

- "I don't think so"- Mikey's phone hummed, and he lazily read the text, "I'll stay with my parents tonight." Just what he needed, a confirmation of his lie. His wife was going to be nowhere to be seen that evening.

- "Hey, Lynz asked me to get something for dinner. Wanna grab something with us, and then we can go out?"

- "Sure."

Frank wouldn't stop talking. At some point during lunch, he just stopped trying to hate Joey. He ended up making joke after joke from the minute they got into the rented car until they reached the studio. He was so nice even Ray got worried. But then he thought Frank was probably overcompensating that girl for being such an ass before.

- "Ok so, Tucker ran naked from the studio, got into the car, and drove to get a burger wearing nothing but a cap?"- Joey nearly peed laughing at Frank's story.

- "Yeah!"- he reassured, laughing too- "And the studio was in this basement, and the family of our friend lived upstairs and completely saw him running around mooning everyone"- the drummer couldn't stop laughing, picturing her friend running naked all over.

- "Shitface never told me that story!!"

- "Oh, it's a good one!!!"- Frank chuckled and turned to look at Joey in the backseat- "So why were you touring with him?"

- "'Cos I had an awesome band, and we opened for Thursday for a few dates. I was still in college back then, and Tucker was like my older brother. He taught me a lot and saved me when I was drunk a couple of times, primarily for getting into fights."

Frank smiled and kept looking at Joey for a few seconds, and she cut him a big grin.

- "How come you don't have a band right now?"- Ray asked her and forced Frank to turn around and look at the road.

- "How says I don't?"

- "Do you?"- Joey laughed for a second.

- "No. My last band broke a few months ago, and I've been working on a few projects, but I haven't found people cool enough to share it with,"- Ray and Frank nodded in silence as they parked outside the studio.

- "Ok, kids. Back to work"- Ray said and opened the door. Joey did the same and smiled at Frank when he let her pass before him. She was sure he was extra nice to make up for being such an asshole with her before. And Frank was sure he had to stop being so nice at her 'cos he felt he was about to overstep the line, but he couldn't stop. It was like he stopped hating her to fully endorse a friendship with the girl one minute to the other

- "Get your fucking shit together, Frank."

Around five-thirty, Joey got into her car and sighed. She was exhausted and yet so fucking excited she felt she could run back to her place yelling. She had to wait until she was somewhere safe though, the band could walk out of the studio any minute, and it would be too embarrassing. Embarrassed herself in front of the band's first day working with them was something she wanted to avoid. It was too soon to show her real colors. No need to let them know she was a dork just yet. They had a whole tour to find out.

As she drove back home, she thought of everything that had happened that year. It surely didn't have a great start. Moving to Los Angeles to try to give it a go in music had been hard, really hard. If it hadn't been for her parent's support, she wouldn't have survived. But then she met Matthew, and it felt he could make everything better like magic. On top of that, she now had a real job playing with a huge band. That was a huge reason to celebrate.

- "So, what do you guys think?"- Gerard looked at the band and raised both eyebrows- "Is this shit gonna work?"

- "I don't see why not"- Mikey simply answered and grabbed his phone. Zero news from his wife. Not surprised either- Rehearsal was pretty well

- "No, I mean touring with a girl."

- "Oh, knock it, I thought we had passed that stupid problem,"- the youngest Way looked at brother pretty pissed- "Just grow up!"

- "Aren't you a little too sensitive?"- Gerard frowned and sat back on the couch.

- "No, I'm just tired. I don't wanna hear any more shit about how weird it will be touring with a girl or if Ray has a crush on her."

- "He totally does"- Frank quickly said, chuckling, though he felt slightly out of place saying that considering now he was extra nice with her too, and he didn't have a crush on her.

- "Very mature,"- Ray didn't pay attention to those words and looked at the band- "What we should be doing is preparing the setlist for the tour."

- "Is Brian coming tomorrow?"- Iero asked, walking around looking kind of bored.

- "Yeah, he said so, at ten, I think, to see the venues, schedules, crew. The usual,"- Ray answered and kept typing on his computer- "So, setlist?"- Frank's phone rang, and he walked away immediately.

- "Does anyone remember the name of the movie we watched the other day at my house?"- Gerard asked, looking at the ceiling.

- "The setlist"- Ray repeated.

- "No, it was the Hayao Miyazaki about the little girl."

- "Spirited away"- Ray quickly answered- "Now please! the setlist"

- "Do you think she was tripping?"- Ray looked at Gerard, annoyed, and closed the laptop- "What?"

- "I'm trying to work here, and you are not even listening!"

- "No one is. Why are you blaming me?"

- "Because you are not helping!!"

- "Wanna do the setlist, let's do the fucking setlist"- Gerard grabbed a notebook and a pen and started writing down the name of the songs- "There! A fucking setlist!"

- "What the fuck is your problem?"

- "I have no problem!!"- Gerard kind of shouted.

- "Can you guys please stop yelling?"- Frank asked, annoyed as he turned around, covering the cellphone and giving his bandmate a severe look.

- "Sorry"- Gerard whispered and look down at the sheet of paper.

- "What is going on there?"- Jamia asked her husband.

- "Shit has been kind of tense these last couple of days."

- "Why? preparing the tour?"

- "Yeah"

- "Did you guys find a new drummer?"- Frank sighed and walked outside to smoke a cigarette.

- "Yeah, we signed one today"

- "Great! What's his name?"

- "Joey, with an unpronounceable last name,"- Iero closed his eyes and took a deep breath before he added- "And it's her name... we booked a girl for the tour"- Jamia stayed quiet, processing the information- "She is friends with Tucker, he recommended her, and she is the best drummer we had."

- "Is she nice?"

- "Yeah, and her boyfriend is very nice too,"- Frank knew he had to add the boyfriend factor into the conversation quickly- "She is dating the nerd guy from Criminal Minds."

- "Really? he is hot"

- "I guess... anyway, we've been dealing with the drummer issue most of today, so shit is kind of sensitive."

- "Why? Someone didn't want to work with her?"

- "Well... I didn't"- Frank murmured

- "Why not?"

- "'Cos... I don't know. We've never included a girl in this band."

- "Maybe it's an excellent chance to do something different."

- "Wait, you are not upset we are touring with a girl?"- Frank frowned, not getting his wife's attitude.

- "Why should I?"

- "I don't know? 'cos bitches be crazy?"

- "Franklin Anthony Iero! you take that back!"

- Why are you middle naming me for?"

- "That was sexist!"

- "Sorry, I just thought you were going to be against this whole idea"

- "I think it's cool"

- "Really?"- Frank was in shock- "You are not going to freak out?"

- "No, I'm not going to freak out."

- "Thank you"

- "Besides, she has a really hot boyfriend. Do you think she can introduce him?"

- "Jamia Iero!!"

- "What? It's not like I'm gonna cheat on you. I just wanna stare at him... I bet he is tall"

- "Ok... that's weird for someone who has been a little too sensitive over fans lately,"- Frank joked, but that might have been just a huge mistake.

- "What are you saying? That I'm a psycho about girls around you?"

- "No, no, no honey, it was just a joke"

- "An awful joke"

- "I'm sorry"- Frank took a long drag of his cigarette and sighed- "How are the babies?"

- "Sleeping... I was gonna eat dinner and go to bed too 'cos I'm too fucking tired."

- "You should. Is your mom staying at home with you tonight?"

- "No, Evan is here today. He did some grocery shopping and cooked dinner"

- "He is awesome"

- "Yeah, he is on diaper duty until one, so I better get some rest"

- "Go, honey, talk to you tomorrow, ok?"

- "What are you gonna do tonight?"

- "Drive back to the hotel and play videogames with Ray"

- "Exciting"- Frank chuckled at his wife's words and stubbed out his cigarette.

- "Love you, honey"

- "Love you too"

Jamia was full of it. She hated the idea of Frank touring with a girl, but she knew making a tantrum was worse. They had had too many arguments about female fans already. The last thing she needed was to start a new one. But how was she going to deal with this new drummer? She seemed to be a major threat.

Joey walked into her apartment and jumped around in hyperventilation. She had tried her best to control her emotions all the way back home, but after she closed the door behind her back, there was no way she could stop her excitement.

- "I can't fucking believe this!!"- she yelled and jumped around the place until she finally laid on her bed and hugged a pillow. For the first time in a long time, she didn't feel like a loser. And for the first time ever, she could call her dad and make him proud, giving him the news of her new job.

Taglist: @all-tings-diego

#my chemical romance #mcr #matthew gray gubler #criminal minds #mikey way #ray toro #frank iero #fanfiction #babymetaldoll writes

[citygirlinschool]

Breaking Bad

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Original bingo

~

“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” 

“I have got two research papers pending, I am falling behind on my thesis and I have to submit Mr D’s essay on Monday. So yes, I am not coming.” Frank resisted the urge to physically pick up the boy from his bed and throw him out. 

He could if he wanted to. Leo was a tiny slip of a thing, all wild curls and ADHD. And gods did the boy tempt him to do some serious bodily harm to him.

“Come on man you haven’t come to a single party since well... ever. This one is supposed to be real rager.” 

With a jerked motion he stood up from his desk, threw his door open and marched towards the kitchen. 

“Is that supposed to be a No?” There was ruffling of sheets and Oh my Gods he was wearing shoes the whole time.

His eyes twitched and he slammed the glass on the counter with more force than necessary. A drink, that’s what he needs.

“Mixed signals buddy.” And there he was in all his flannel glory, and those hideous pun t-shirt (Never trust an atom, they make up everything). Never would he have guessed the devil would be a elf in science pun t-shirts. 

“No, Valdez. I am not coming to your rager party.” He made towards the refrigerator.

“Whatever man your loss.” 

There was an audible slam of the door as the fridge door fell of it’s hinges and over a startled Frank, followed by a crash of food spilling on to the floor.

“LEO!” 

~

“So, what was it this time?” 

“He broke the fridge.” Frank stabbed his food gloomily.

“And?” Percy waved a ketchup covered fry.

“He fixed the AC.” Frank mumbled.

“That’s good right?” 

“After he broke it.” He snorted.

Percy was in the year above him. Swim team captain and marine biology major. They met by accident and hit it off immediately.

They made it a point to meet in the dinner near the college campus once a week, or when they could.

“What else?” he drawled lazily, and Frank would feel guilty about turning all these meetings into venting sessions, except Percy wasn’t the type to entertain people just because it’s polite, so he probably didn’t mind.

“He brought someone back to the dorm. Again. Some blondie, Maria. This is the third this month. And it’s distracting, and I have told him clearly to bring someone when I am gone… How does he even land these many?” 

“He is kinda cute?” Percy shrugged.

Frank pulled a face. “He has a horrible track record. Can you believe he flirted with Ms Grace?” 

“To be fair he flirts with everybody. I don’t think it counts.” 

“Still. That’s the Thalia Grace.”

 “Touché. Talked to the Dean?” 

“Jason said, only Octavian is vacant. And that guy is… creepy.”

Percy nodded solemnly. “Heard he guts plush toys to some cult god he worships.” 

Frank looked at him wide eyes, and just like that Leo was forgotten. 

At least until he reached back to his dorm. 

“Frankie! You are back.” Leo flashed him his infuriating smirk that he knows gets on his every nerves. “Hazel was just leaving.” And that asshole turns to her, “Until you changed your mind and decided to stay.” 

He flirts with everybody; it doesn’t mean anything. Percy’s voice echoed warningly in his mind.

Hazel flushes, and looks down. Those flawless curls hiding reddened cheeks. “Thanks for the offer but I can’t stay past curfew.” 

“Aw.” Leo leans forward, “That’s not a no.” he wiggled his eyebrows. “Don’t be stickler for rules, get that enough from Frankie boo here.” 

This time Frank’s cheeks heat up. “Leo.” He hopes he would stop.

“Fine, Fine. Goodnight, Hazel.”

“Bye, Leo.” She presses her books to her chest, and Frank shuffles hurriedly to the side as Hazel moves past him.

He slams the door once Hazel is past. 

“So,” Leo straightens from where he was leaning against the wall. “Somebody has got a crush.”

“Don’t.”

“Cant blame you, she is a real looker.” 

“Oh, come on, don’t play.” He stalks back towards his room, his back toward the Latino. “You already knew that.” 

“I did?” there it is again, the annoying mocking tone he didn’t bother dignifying with a reply. But that didn’t deter Leo from barging in his room behind him either.

“I mean, were all those lectures ignored in the favour of staring at the back of her head, and doodling H+F in the back of your notebook, did give me an inclination but thought they stood for Himbo plus- “ 

“Shut up, asshole.” He whirled around. “You know I freaking liked her.” He stalked towards him. 

“Oh yeah like how you knew my Chatelier’s experiment made twelve percent of my grade?” 

“I apologized for it.” He spit back in his face, grabbing his forearms. 

“That doesn’t make up for it, jerk.” He hissed back.

Blood roared in his veins, drowning out any further jabbing remarks from the squirming boy in his arms.

Gods the things he would do to shut him up. 

“-and would you please let me go, I am pretty sure this counts as phys- Mmph! ” 

He kissed him. That annoying fucking mouth, with those pretty fucking lips. He bit on his lips tugging at them, pressing that tiny body against his.

He kissed him. Fuck.

Frank stumbled back in horror. “Shit I am sorry, I didn’t- “ 

“Oh no.” Leo lunged at him, and he stumbled back in surprise, catching his hips. “You would be sorry when I am done with you.” 

Harsh demanding lips pressed against him, a sharp nip and the metallic tang of blood spilled on his tongue, making him curse.

The heels of Leo’s feet dug in his back, “Bed, bed, bed!” He panted, slim but strong fingers tugging at his hair painfully, tilting it back. He grabbed his lips in another kiss that had his dick aching in his pants.

Frank stumbled blindly towards his twin bed, his hands groping the Latino’s ass, as they both fell on the congested bed in tangle of limbs.

Leo’s hand left his hair and trailed over his collar, clever fingers making a quick job of his shirt, hips shamelessly grinding in his abdomen. 

“Come on, man, get naked.” He ran his fingers over his chest, tweaking his nipples.

“Leo.” He pulled back, “Aren’t we going a bit fast.” 

Leo’s lips pulled back in a condescending sneer, “You sure you wanna be a cock blocker.”

His hand snaked down to the bulge in his pants, and he involuntarily humped forward into the pressure.   “I already hate you enough.”

That was a reminder enough. The clothes were gotten rid of in a flurry of uncoordinated limbs, and broken buttons, until a very naked Frank, had a very naked Leo in his lap. 

He dug his teeth into the hollow of his collar bones, and Leo hissed, but didn’t stop the wild rhythm of his hips. Frank’s hand squeezed the ample flesh in his hands and parting them. 

The head of his cock slipped between them, sliding over the fuzzy hole.

Leo’s hips stuttered, and he exhaled shakily, fingers digging in his shoulders hard enough that Frank knew they would leave welts.

“Lube? Tell me you have lube” his voice was so deep; it had his cock twitching.

“Top drawer, in the back.” He mumbled, leaning back until he was laying down as Leo stretched over him, searching his drawer.

He couldn’t help but mouth over his well formed abdomen, for his deceptively short stature he was strong. Lithe muscles and surprisingly broad shoulders. 

Fuck he hated him so much.

There was a click of lube opening, as Leo pulled back, his fingers dripping with lube.

He leaned forward, one hand beside his head while he reached behind him.

Frank knew the exact moment Leo’s fingers breached him. His eyebrows furrowed, jaw clenched and his breathing became a tad bit heavier. 

He reached up, pressing a sweet almost a innocent kiss against his lips, and for a moment Leo let him. 

“Let me do it.”

And just like that Leo pulled away. 

His weeping cock bobbed proudly between his supple thighs, his dusky nipple looked raw and abused, there was a myriad of hickies littering his chest and his hair was wilder than usual. 

Yet, that jerk had the audacity to smirk mockingly at him.

“Not your girlfriend, Zhang. So don’t treat me like it.” he must have done something inside him cause his eyes fluttered for a moment. “Besides- Ah” his back arched, “we are doing this by-mmh- my rules, cause clearly you are as clueless in this-Ah!”

“What is your problem.” Frank had jostled his fingers out of him as he flipped them over. “I am just trying to be nice.” He snarled.

“No what you’re trying to do.” A lube covered finger smeared across his neck, “is fucking coddle me.” He spat.

“I am not coddling you.” He glared indignantly at the infuriating boy underneath him.

“Oh yeah? What is this? Fucking me? Please, you are not even in me.” He sneered mockingly.

“I am- I don’t –” Leo mercifully cut his spluttering off with a kiss.

“God I didn’t know I had to just spread my legs to get underneath your skin.”

He would have tried replying, except Leo had wrapped his lubed up hand around his dick, slicking it up with quick efficient strokes, and Frank had been so painfully hard all this time all he could do was helplessly jerk forward into the warm wet hole, until Leo tightened his grip. “Don’t come.” He warned, as he guided him to his stretched hole.

Frank to his dying day would deny the sound he emitted when his head slipped in.

A loud unashamed sound, as his head dropped onto Leo’s shoulder, as he panted harshly. Leo was tighter and hotter then anything he had ever felt before. And so deliciously soft.

He wouldn’t have been able to stop the unrelenting rolls of his hips as he pushed deeper if he wanted to.

Like he had no control over his hips, he pushed in inch after inch, as Leo’s back arched off the bed until Frank bottomed out.

For a moment Frank could just lay still and shiver so as to not bust a nut, Leo as so tight around him, it was probably painful for him.

“Move, move, move, jackass.” Or maybe not.

“Oh, gods fuck me, or I am gonna fuck up your laptop and not repair- Oh yesss!” Leo’s eyes rolled back in his head, as Frank pulled out almost all the way and then pushing in rapidly. 

“Why can’t you shut up for a moment.” Frank picked up his pace. “For once –mmh” his nipped at his ear, “just shut up- ah fuck- and moan.” 

“Maybe- mmph- Maybe if you put all that beef - oh Dios- and man boobs (he gripped said boobs) to use than I will.” 

Frank dug his teeth right below his ears, just shy of tearing skin, but definitely marring the skin, as he readjusted his grip, hooking his hands underneath his knees and practically folding the twink (because that’s what Leo fucking Valdez is and Frank is tired of lying) in half. 

He must have hit his prostrate with the deeper angle cause Leo made a he- would- never- admit- it- but- adorable high-pitched sound, his hands flying between his legs, except Frank slapped it away and wrapped his own hand around his flushed, almost painfully purple cock.

Much to his pleasure Leo hooked his own hand underneath his knees, holding himself open.

“Didn’t know” he panted, “all it took was a good dicking down to shut you up.” 

Leo’s eyes opened up to slits, in what he thinks is a glare, but it is hard to take him seriously on good days, even harder with his cock stupid bambi eyes, and drool covered chin.

Fuck! This is the hottest thing ever and Frank hates him so much.

Frank lost his carefully maintained rhythm, finally rutting in abandon. The bed creaked threateningly, the headboard banging fiercely with the force of his thrusts.

Paired with the slick sound of where Frank was jerking Leo off, slap of skin against skin and squelch of Frank fucking Leo, it sounded like a cheap porno.

Harsh breathing was littered with moans and litany of curses. There tongues ran sloppily against each other, Leo tweaked his nipples, clenching down on Frank as they both hurtled toward the peak like freight train.

The orgasm was a bang.

Literally. 

In hindsight, two fully grown men fucking on a barely hanging on twin bed was not the wisest plan. But what can he say? Leo brings out the worst in him.

“Did it?” Frank muttered tiredly. All he wanted to do was sleep.

“Get off.” Leo’s voice was slurred and strained, “You are suffocating me. And you are sleeping on the couch.” 

~

“What was it this time?” 

“The bed.” 

“Leo broke your bed?” 

“Something like that.” Frank mumbled.

#percy jackon and the olympians #heroes of olympus #frank zhang #leo valdez #freo #kinktoberverse2021

[entityskillcount-archive]

Thoughts on everyone in the realms?

"Short Answer; I made a chart. Not a well drawn chart, mind you, but a chart. Sometimes you don't wanna put effort into drawing 50 something faces"

"Long answer, uh....well lemme go down the list"

Claudette: My Starflower~!! She's so sweet and kind and amazing in trials and every time I see her I swoon a little- I love her so much~ Dwight: He's cute- And he's a good leader, despite his nervous personality, he knows how to bring a group together. Final guy potential. Ash: ....Don't...Tell him I said this? But uh....Evil Dead was one of my biggest comfort series, the thing that got me through losing both my parents....the thing that helped me transition, pick my name, and fueled my FX hobby. And I'm still attached, even realizing he's a real person and all- But...it's weird to just, be upfront with something like that, so I'm just...burying it as best as I can. David: He's a little rough around the edges but he’s good to have in a trial, plus when you can get past the walls, he’s nice to talk to. Kate: Her music by the campfire is calming and she’s such a sweetheart. If we were in a better situation I’d love to learn Guitar from her, but, it’s hard when you’re a moment away from a trial at any given time. Amalthea (@askthewidowstars OC): She judged my entire vibe but jokes on her I’m the one who snagged a cutie for life- Meg: If I had a dollar for every time she left me for dead I would have enough money to paint the entire campfire in solid gold. The only time we’ve ever properly talked was about SAW traps and 90% of it was her admitting she could beat every single trap because she was ‘built different’  Jeff: He’s a sweetheart and really nice to be around. Sometimes when we’re by the campfire in our downtimes I’ll let him draw on my arm. it kinda makes me want a tattoo, honestly. If we ever get out of here, I might get one. Steve: Bros!! We kinda make up team ‘Altruistic Himbo’, Plus the ‘Babysitter/Brother’ Vibes mesh really well. I kinda wanna re-style his hair though, mostly because it looks fluffy, and nice to play with.  Quentin: Bros!! We’re gonna make matching T-Shirts about committing Arson on Freddy in particular. He’s fun to hang around in our downtime, and I hope there’s a chance he can get some actual rest, even in here. He deserves it. Adam: If Dwight wasn’t the leader I feel like he’d take over the Reigns. I feel like he’s the calm type that doesn’t handle energetic types well though. Which, y’know, makes things hard.  Nea: Anytime I see her she’s either sneaking around the map and watching everyone get killed, or doing something stupid to get herself killed. I’d get grey hair if We were actually friends.  Feng: Gamer bros- I got to find out we actually played a lotta the same stuff before we were taken by the Entity. We get a chance to nerd out in between trials- Laurie: Best Final Girl hands down. I kinda hope she can teach me Decisive Strike one day- I feel like its also just a little awkward since again, still a fan of Myers Nancy: She doesn’t agree that Demo’s a good boy, which makes sense, but we but heads over it. Also I’m pretty sure she wants me dead for touching the bones around the map one too many times. They’re just too tempting.... Jake: He’s pretty quiet, but he’s helpful in trials. I heard he’s been to a convention a few times, but I don’t think he’s actually into it as much as I thought...Which kinda sucks. I’d love more cosplay buddies y’know? Yui: Kinda makes me want a motorbike. We don’t talk but she seems really cool. A little too cool to me around if that makes sense.  Yun-Jin: She benefits off of throwing everyone else under the bus. And 90% of the time she will throw everyone under the bus. Even if she needs actual help to escape the trial.  Cheryl: Cheryylll!!  She’s really cool and honestly would add her to the ‘Can kill god if she was not nerfed’ Squad. Especially since y’know, she has- I bet if we got enough of the kids together we could just beat the Entity’s ass. I know she could.  Tapp: Always been a fan of Tapp before I was taken, although I feel like he’d wanna arrest me if we weren’t in the Entity’s Realm. I might be a little too excited for my own good about Kramer’s work. I don’t think he’d believe the fact its a movie either.  Ace: He’s kinda like the Uncle of the group around the campfire, but, coming into trials, He’s still for saving his own skin- You can also only stand dad jokes for so long. Especially in an eternity like this.  Leon: He’s cool!!! I got so excited first realizing He and Jill were here, and I wanna get a chance to talk to him about everything that went down, but Haven’t got the chance. He’s nice inside of Trials though, usually doesn’t leave anyone behind. Not a fan of getting blinded though.  Jill: She knows how to lead the trials well, and I look up to her a lot. She’s always been such a badass!!  Bill: If Bill gets his hands on a weapon the entire Realm would be fucked. Badass as hell and Kinda scary. Another one on the list of ‘Entity needed to Nerf’ Felix: You’d think a Childless Father and a Fatherless son would be able to bond a bit more, but, I think we each kinda get the same vibe of homesickness from one another. He’s kind though, and it’s neat to see his work whenever we’re by the campfire.  Elodie: She’s better at helping out than most of the others, but she’s still in a survival of the fittest mindset. I loved hearing about her studies from before she was taken though. I feel like if we had more time we could dig deeper into this whole world and what its about. But we don’t get that- Zarina: We just don’t really click as much, honestly. I’d love to get to know her better but I think she’s more into digging into the killers and what she can find out about this place. Which y’know, could be better done with a team. Sage (@askthewidowstars OC): HUSBAND!!! My husband. I love him to the Moon and back. He’s amazing and I miss him even when we’re five feet apart-  ...I need a hug now-  Amanda: Best girl hands down!! We vibed a lot in between Trials talking about her traps and old designs, she was impressed by my knowledge, and we hang out in Gideon sometimes!   Ghostface: He’s pretty cute- Also fun to be around, even if he’s kind of a dick when he’s actually at work, it’s better when you’re outside of a Trial. It’s also neat to see he’s not just two idiots in a halloween costume and his own person, as much as I love the Scream Series, too-  Leatherface: Bubba!!! Honestly I’d handle being chainsawed. Fuckin Love Bubba-  Huntress: I wanna learn how to throw hatchets but I know I never will. She’s kinda scary, but also I feel like if she could adopt some of the others in the Realms, she totally would.  Oni: The only times I’ve ever really seen him is just before my skull gets bashed in. All I really have associated to him is the splitting headache.  Twins: I’m gonna punt Victor into the sun. I haven’t been good around kids beforehand and this tiny gremlin motherfucker just makes it worse.  Pinhead: I was so excited to see him!! He’s one of the few that talks more often than not in a trial, and he’s always had this air of elegance about him which makes it so much cooler! I’d be tempted to grab the box to solve it, but, at the same time Dwight’s already been hunted. I just...want to see how it works, really. Maybe if I ask nicely? Nah, probably not.  Pyramid Head: He’s so fucking COOL!!! He’s always just been really fucking cool and I still get stars in my eyes. I wanna re-create his weapon one day.  Joey: Joey’s one of the chill killers to be around, probably my favorite amongst the legion. Also Cosplay gang?? Hello? Susie: She’s cute!! I like her vibes whenever there’s not violence involved. I wonder if she’d ever get into costume making, she has the artistic eye for it. I also wonder if she’d ever dye other people’s hair...I’d kinda want green tips one day- Frank: Still wanna throw a palette at him. He’s one of the more serious of the Legion, and usually the one you’d find with a Mori. Not as Serious as Julie but only because he has the cocky god complex to go with it.  Julie:  She’s definitely the most serious out of the Legion. There’s no real rest whenever we’re in a trial against her. Scary as hell and less of a bastard than the other three.  Hillbilly: I know he deserved a lot better than this, especially after hearing more about him. I...Haven’t gotten to see much than the end of his chainsaw though.  Blight: This dude’s singlehandedly bringing back my fear of needles and I thought I lost that with HRT- Also like, dude spits up orange fuckin everywhere.  Michael: My Mans!! I always get a little excited knowing we’re up against him. It’s habit- It’s kinda weird to see him easily affected by like, palettes or flashlights though.  Spirit: She seems like she could be nice when there’s some downtime. I’m also one of the few that can understand her well enough, which probably makes things easier. I found out she’s basically my age when I survived a trial by myself. I’d hope to hang out more sometime. Nemesis: God he’s so fucking tall. Kinda surprised it was Nemesis out of everyone that could’ve been brought, and also, kinda terrified? Still am kinda terrified. I’m surprised he hasn’t just torn up an entire map yet. His zombie minions are also annoying. Wraith: All this motherfucker does is roll up to pull me off Gens and Exist as a problem. I don’t see much of him outside of a Trial. Trapper: Motherfucker Incarnate. If the Entity lets us throw hands I’m fighting him first.  Freddy: ....Gross. I liked the Nightmare on Elm Street series a lot, but...Freddy as a person? Ew. Especially this iteration.  Demogorgon: Demopuppy!! He’s a good boy and he deserves to get treats. Even if the Treats are flesh....I wonder if he likes candy though. Trickster: Pretty!! He also Gives me DIO vibes because of the Jacket and the Knife throwing...Imagine if a killer could stop time...that’d be terrifying. Deathslinger: I wanna sit down and look at his gun more but I also feel like if I ask I’d just get shot on sight. Intimidating as hell but also cool. Mary: ....Still on the very complicated ‘Ex Girlfriend that murdered me’ State. It’s hard to avoid her though. Especially since she wants to get back together since we’re stuck here. Nurse: She does not help my fear of Hospitals, honestly. While she’s easy to go up against, it’s still eugh. Plague: I really, really hate her power. The Sickness and the Vomit is just- Eughhhhh- It just hits every bad sensory issue at once.  Clown: ...I get killers are Killers and aren’t supposed to be good people but also like....Disgusting. Please Remove from the Realm. He’s just- ...Ew.  Doctor: NOPE. NO. NEVER. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO.

#asks #anonymous #God this was so much to write out

[maraud-moons]

first one shot ahhh

tw- minor mentions of death

us? never.

third year was the first time he asked her out officially. that infuriating hair and cocky grin he flashed her way before sauntering over to her with a confidence that no fourteen year old should have. ‘so what do you say me and you go on a date evans? you know, tell everyone that we’re an item.’ she grit her teeth because god if he was anything other than infuriating before spitting out ‘us? never.’

fourth year came and the marauders were still as exasperating as ever but she would be lying if she said they weren’t a welcome distraction for her. their constant loud energy let her think about something other than how these days behind severus’s words seemed to linger something so much darker. but all gratefulness for the distraction vanishes immediately when a filibuster bursts right above her at the gryffindor table and now there’s orange juice all over the front of her blouse and all she can see is red. she storms over to the four boys with the innocent looks one their faces and she doesn’t really remember what it was she said but she does know it would’ve been enough to make a grown man cry but not the marauders. especially not james potter. while the other three have the decency to look at least a little scared, potter just sits there with the most self satisfied expression on his face. and then he had the audacity to speak, ‘merlin evans you sure are creative with your swearing. godric’s burning ballsack? it’s inspired really. we could use that talent. your brilliance and my charm, we would make a pretty spectacular team don’t you think?’ lily just stares at him because god if he was anything other than infuriating but it was 8 in the morning and she was already drained so she just said ‘us? never.’

fifth year and she was on the train on her way home for christmas, her body filling with dread, already anticipating the colder than ice welcome she’ll receive from her sister especially now after the blow up in summer after she got the prefect badge. marlene, dorcas and mary were staying at hogwarts that christmas and alice was a bit lost in her newly found romance with frank longbottom and she didn’t want to interrupt their honeymoon phase so she sat alone in the compartment and tried her best not to wallow in self pity. then there was a knock at her door and in glided james potter in all his arrogant glory. she glared at him in an attempt to say ‘what in the living hell are you doing here?’ and he just stared back with a calm but equally challenging expression. she couldn’t tell how long they stayed like that for but after a while he accepted mock defeat and replied to her telepathic question ‘i just wanted to know why you were sitting here all alone and sad when such kindred and fun-‘

‘and glorious!’ called sirius black from god knows where.

‘-and glorious spirits are sitting in the compartment right across from you.’

she rolled her eyes and responded, ‘i’m not alone and sad.’

‘please you can smell the gloom the moment you walk in here’ he scoffed.

‘it’s a lot potter but we aren’t friends so it’s alright you don’t have to listen to my problems.’

he mock gasped ‘how dare you, it happens to be my life’s purpose to listen to your problems. and i must embrace my destiny.’

she could feel the corners of her mouth tug up and she mentally screamed at herself because no no no she is not smiling at something james potter said because this is james potter and god if he was anything other than infuriating. she looked at him and despite the humour in his words she saw genuine concern in his face. so she, as briefly as she could, explained the situation with her sister and they kept talking and somehow, by the time the last rays of the setting sun were filtering in through the window, they were still talking. ‘anything from the trolley dears?’ they both looked up to see the trolley witch smiling at them kindly and james nodded and bought some food. before she could reach for her purse, james was already paying. he fixed her with a stare as if to say ‘don’t even try’ so she just grabbed a licorice wand and bit into it. the trolley witch gave james his change and right before she left she smiled and said ‘so you both are finally together huh?’ and james grinned a smile wider than anything she’s seen before while lily choked on her licorice wand before spluttering out ‘us? never.’

sixth year came and lily couldn’t look at either snape or potter in the face because she was furious, but she was also so so hurt. she ignored the signs for so long and it finally came back to bite her in the ass. and now the damage has been done and whenever she sees snape watching her in the corridors or in the great hall, he was always with an expression of great sadness but she knows it was more for himself than anyone else. and potter. with snape she was sure what she was feeling, an unmistakable sense of hatred. but with potter it was a haze. she didn’t know whether to hate him or thank him for being the reason she saw snape’s true colours. so she ignored it. and she got away with it until one day, she heard him shouting her name from across the crowded hall. she put her head down and tried to blend into the crowd but apparently potter now has an eye like a hawk and immediately spotted her trying to slip onto one of the staircases. she hurriedly tried to climb up and a hand caught her wrist and pulled her back just as she noticed the step in front of her had moved to join another staircase ‘damn these moving staircases’ she internally cursed hogwarts and it’s incredibly horrendous timing. ‘merlin evans watch where you’re going’ came james potter’s slightly out of breath voice ‘you may be terrible at hiding but you sure are fast.’ ‘aren’t you supposed to be an athlete?’ she muttered, looking for the closest exit and then noticed james’s hand still gripping her wrist. ‘har dee har har,’ he replied sarcastically ‘i need to talk to you.’. lily sighed, she knew this was gonna happen eventually so she just nodded at him to lead the way. he gently pulled her down the school and a few minutes later, she was sitting in a well furnished secret tunnel, not surprised in the slightest because what else could you expect from the marauders. then james launched into a winded speech about how he’s really sorry evans and other than the few slightly inappropriate innuendos here and there it was a genuine apology and she found herself nodding when he softly asked ‘so can we put this all behind us and be friends?’. so a few days later the school was buzzing with news that james potter and lily evans actually walked to class together without any minor casualties. lily still found him and his puns exasperating because god if he was anything other than infuriating. but they were friends now and she didn’t mind it? not one bit. ‘should i be jealous now?’ marlene asked one day when they were walking to the lake together. lily looked at her confused and asked ‘what why?’

‘because you and potter are best friends now aren’t you?’

lily looked at marlene with a roll of her eyes and a very small smile

‘us? never.’

seventh year and they were so close to the end. in a few months it would all be over and they would leave the castle and all the magic it held behind. to become soldiers. like it or not they were all going to fight. and god was lily terrified. faces of the missing flashed through her mind at the worst times and she knew, everyone knew, this wasn’t going to end anytime soon. not unless they all fought and won the war or died trying. and she was so so scared for everyone she loved. marlene, dorcas, mary, alice, frank, peter, sirius, remus, james. james. lily thought of the quidditch captain and how absolutely stunned she had been when she saw him in the beginning of the year with the head boy badge. one glance and she could tell he had changed. he stood up taller, not with arrogance but with the stance of someone ready to lead. he talked with purpose and acted the same. james potter had grown up. and she could tell it was for his family, for sirius. and she noticed it all. yeah noticing is one thing but the slow fluttering in her stomach when she did? completely different. and she tried so damn hard to ignore them because she can’t focus on romance when she or anyone around her might die any day. and that was exactly what she was thinking about when she looked down at the daily prophet that day and read the front page article. death eaters strike muggle town. killed 4. she choked back a sob as she saw her town’s name on the smaller print and as she read the names she slowly processed the words. suzzane edward. she had known suzanne, been best friends with her as a child and even talked to her last summer. and now she was gone. her and her whole family. she was devastated for them. she put down the paper with a start and looked around the table to see almost everyone at the table clutching a paper in their hands, their expressions varying from horror to defeat as they took in the tragic familiarity of it all. the rest of the day went by in a blur and by the end of the day she sat in the common room trying as hard as she could to focus on the relevance of the goblin wars to today’s banking system. she could hear wisps of conversations floating from parts of the room and she heard marlene say ‘they were found lying next to each other. i’ve read so many people say that even if they died, they died having found their soulmate.’ and upon hearing that, something inside lily sparked. she had to do something and she had to do it now. she knew peter was attending a study group tonight and sirius and remus were merlin knows where and she did know james did not have practice today so she shoved her parchment aside and like a woman on a mission stalked up the stairs to the boys dormitory. and as she took the last few steps her mind caught up to what she was doing and she paused ‘oh god what am i gonna say when i go up there and what? james potter isn’t your soulmate.’ she sighed and turned around about to leave but then her thoughts interrupted her once again ‘isn’t he?’ and that was the last push she needed. she near sprinted up the stairs again, grabbed the handle and barged into the dormitory with the initials j.p. s.b. r.l. and p.p. carved into the door. she entered breathless, to find james sitting in bed in an old t-shirt and

‘bright red snitch pajamas??!!??’

‘evans!!??’

she couldn’t help her laughter, ‘you wear snitch pajamas!’ she snorted.

james was too startled to even look embarrassed ‘evans what are you doing here? are you okay?’ this sobered lily up immediately and she looked around and remembered what she was there to do and managed to stammer ‘oh- uh- yeah.’

‘yeah?’ james asked, still visibly confused.

lily took in a deep breath, ‘okay you got one chance, DO NOT screw it up.’

‘okay well- shit. okay so you know how there’s a war going on right? of course you do. yeah so i heard marlene talk about soulmates and how dying together is better than living without one and hell when i heard that the first person i thought of was you. all these years i kept turning you down cause i found you immature, annoying and quite frankly infuriating and i didn’t expect that to change and then you show up this year and god you changed. you stopped being an arrogant asshole, you stopped walking around like you owned the place and you changed for the better and i couldn’t believe it. then i saw how you were with the firsties and how well you took care of them and when simon hubell needed help with his transfiguration homework, you stayed up all night helping him. and everyone kept telling me you changed for me but i knew, it was for your brother and it made me want to punch a wall because you’ve become a 100 times better person than you already were and how was i so oblivious. and of course i saw what changed in you but i also saw what didn’t. your hair is still as messy as ever and you still run your hands through it whenever you’re nervous or anxious and your laugh, it still fills up a room with joy like it always did, it’s infectious. and you’re still so determined, i mean, whether it was asking me out or anything about the war, you never gave up and you inspired almost everyone in the school. and your eyes. they’re still the chocolate brown they’ve always been and they still turn lighter, almost amber when you’re happy and turn near black when you’re angry and there’s that shine in them that only shows up when you’re up to no good and lately i’ve seen that shine when you’re talking about the war and god those eyes. i’ve slowly fallen in love with them and i can’t help it anymore. ironic isn’t it?i guess your pining methods do work potter. cause here i am in your dorm almost at midnight declaring my love for you.’

she let out a giant breath and stared at james waiting for something, anything. he stared at her, right at her and slowly got up from the bed and walked across the room, never once breaking eye contact and came to stand less than a hair breadth away from her, his eyes shining in a way she’s never seen before. ‘you aren’t pranking me now are you evans? because if this is revenge for all the pranks i would like to let you know that you would’ve broken my heart, like completely shatter-‘

‘no you toerag. i’m not pranking you.’

‘oh okay-‘

‘because if i was, would i do this?’

then she reached up to cup his jaw and met his lips and she could see it all. the stars, the moons and her entire future. with him.

after what felt like an eternity of bliss they broke apart and rested their foreheads against each other’s. ‘i love you james potter, more than you’ll ever know.’ she whispered.

‘oh i know, because i love you an infinity times more lily evans.’

so as she left the dorm that night, both of their eyes shining with something new and so so much brighter, he called out ‘so does this mean we’re together now evans?’ with a grin in his words.

she turned around, smiling and eyes sparkling.

‘us? never.’

#us?never #jameswearssnitchpajamastryandconvincemeotherwise #jily #jilyfic #jilyoneshot #james potter #lily evans #lily evans x james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #wolfstar #marlene mckinnon #hogwarts #gryffindor #ravenclaw #hufflepuff #slytherin #toerag #jily fic

[simsadventures]

Only Mine: Chapter 10: The Question

Summary: You want spend precious time with Natasha, who you haven’t seen in a while. Then an idea pops into your head, and Bucky is more than happy to oblige, before he asks you some important questions.

Warnings: implied smut, phone sex (MUST BE 18+ TO READ THE PART BETWEEN WARNINGS) fluff, swearing, mafia AU

Word Count: 3551

A/N: I feel like I haven’t updated in forever, so sorry for that. Not too much is happening here, I’m more preparing my ground for what is about to come next. Hope you’ll enjoy it nevertheless. Tell me what you thought, you guys! I love this series so much, tbh xx

Series Masterlist __ Masterlist

< Previous Chapter

It was not that you didn’t enjoy your time at the mansion. You surely did, but after a few days (because of course Bucky didn’t let you leave just like that when he had all things he needed at one place) you felt like you could use some alone time. Or, more specifically, time with your own friends.

Bucky acted as if he couldn’t speak English when you told him that you’d like somebody to drive you home and that somebody could presumably be anybody else but Brock. Even though he stayed clear of you the whole time you spent in the house, it didn’t mean you felt any better about the guy. You still remembered his sly comments, and it never ceased to make you shudder.

Bucky tried to list all the advantaged of you staying there with him, and although constant sex and not having to cook did sound pretty good, you knew you had to leave, one way, or the other. It was also the end of the weekend, and as much as you liked Bucky and spending some quality time with him, your boss would probably not be too happy about you not coming to work the next day.

But most of all, it felt like a century since you last saw Nat. You were used to be with her almost every single day, just sharing stupid stories from work, and having a laugh about the stupidity of some people. But because you spent so much time with Bucky, you just didn’t have the time for Natasha. And you were feeling like the worst friend in the world.

Bucky’s protests were loud and clear, but your resilience was stronger, and so it was Sunday afternoon, that you finally managed to make him budge, and he actually let you leave the mansion. Not without a long and very steamy goodbye though. He insisted it was either a hot shower sex, or you not leaving his house ever again, so…

It was Peter who drove you back, and even though Bucky wanted to accompany you, he had some pressing matters to attend to, and, to be quite frank, you didn’t mind one bit. You enjoyed your time spent with Peter, because he was just such a sweetheart, and you wanted to get to know him better.

“I don’t want to pester you, Peter, and if you don’t feel like answering my question, you totally can stay quiet,” you said, while his eyes were glued to the road, probably because Bucky told him that if there was a hair wrong on your hair when he next saw you, Peter would be responsible.

“I’m an open book, Y/N. Ask away!”

“Alright. I was curious, as to what such a sweet boy, and so young, on top of it, is doing with Bucky’s gang. I mean, sure, you’ve got the power, and I bet the money ain’t that bad either, but you seem so smart, and I just wondered what made you decide for this line of work, really,” you mused, and waited for his reply.

You knew you were being nosey, but you just couldn’t help yourself.

There was a silence in the car while Peter thought about his answer, and you didn’t rush him.

“Uhm, well, my uncle used to work for Bucky’s father, he used to be his accountant, and because he and my aunt May raised me, it was one of those things that were almost given, you know? I tried to go to university, but it just didn’t feel right. So I quit and asked Bucky if I could help him out, and he took me in. Also, I wanted to help May. She is an amazing woman and after losing my uncle, I just wanted to help her out a bit, you know? And going to university, that would just drain her completely, and I didn’t have the heart to do it.”

You listened to him intently, your heart tightening in your chest for him. You could see he was ok with his fate, but, somehow, you weren’t. You wanted more for this sweet kid, and even though you didn’t really know how to achieve that, you made a mental note to try and help him and his aunt so that he could pursue a better career. Or at least one where he wouldn’t have to face death almost every single month.

Before you knew it, Peter was pulling over in front of your building. The street lamps were already lit, the dim light they were emitting setting a warm feeling in your heart. The sun was down, and only a few orange and pink clouds were giving away the beauty of the previous day. You kissed Peter’s cheek, which even in the hardly lit car caused him to blush so hard you could actually see it, and you giggled slightly.

You bid him goodnight and getting out of the car, you pulled out your phone from your purse, dealing Bucky’s number. He made you promise to call him as soon as you got home, and you knew you would have caught hell weren’t you to call him immediately.

He picked up in seconds, and you had to laugh in your head. He was such a softie, even if he never admitted it.

“Already missing me, doll?”

You could almost see the smirk on his stupid face, and you shook your head, unlocking the front door.

“Oh, that’s how it is now, huh? I thought you wanted me to let you know, but I guess I was wrong, bye, Buck!” You hollered, even though you had no intention of hanging up on him.

“NO” Wait! I was just joking! I’m glad you called, doll, you know me. I was just teasing you, that’s all. I’m happy you’re home and safe. Was the ride ok, or should I take care of the youngling?”

“Don’t you even dare tell him anything, joke or not. He’s mortified of you, and I don’t wanna be the reason you’re making him uncomfortable. The ride was perfect, and you should be glad you have such a sweetie amongst your men!” You told him, imagining him rolling his eyes at your comments. He always did this when you talked to him about his line of business.

“Right, because it’s such an important trait for a mobster, to be a fucking sweetie. Imma have to remember that one when I hire more men. If you’re not a sweetie, you can’t fucking work for him. You wanna kill him? Sure, but do it sweetly.”

You snorted out a laugh just as you entered your apartment and breathed a sigh of relief. You missed this little place. Your little safe haven.

“You’re such a dork. I’m just saying that he can actually act human, not like I can say that about all of your guys,” you took a jab at Brock and Bob, but continued right afterwards, not wanting to give him a reason to get angry again.

“Anyway, I’m gonna go, I think me and Nat are gonna have a glass or five, and then we’ll go to sleep. Hope you have a good night, babe,” you almost whispered, walking further in the apartment and spotting Nat sitting on the sofa, smiling at you with two glasses of wine ready. How she knew you were coming, that was a mystery to you.

“Don’t think I didn’t hear what you said there! Be safe and text me when you wake up. Night!”

You wanted to laugh at him for being such an overprotective boyfriend, but he already hung up. Bucky couldn’t make a friendly phone call, and that was why you always rather either texted him or spoke to him in person. His telephone persona was just too stiff for you.

“Hey there, stranger! I almost thought you moved there and that I had to look for another roommate!” Nat smiled at you sheepishly, and you stuck your tongue out, which made her laugh.

“Not my fault my boyfriend wants me all to himself,” you said, shrugging your shoulders, and Nat had to roll her eyes at you.  

“Your boyfriend is a mafia boss, of course, he wants you to himself, babe! Anyway, how is life going in the mafia paradise, huh? He’s been treating you well, I hope. If not, I’m gonna go and kick his juicy ass!”

You wanted to take a sip of your wine, but Nat’s comment made you spit it out like a hippo, and your hand wasn’t fast enough to cover your mouth which made the white wine sprinkle everywhere on the sofa.

“You can’t say things like that! I could have drowned, for Christ’s sake! Anyway, a juicy ass, huh?” You smirked at her.

The rest of the night went similarly, you two were talking your hearts out about everything that has happened since you two had a proper girls’ evening. By the time it was 1AM, you were both giggling messes, slightly drunk but definitely happy.  

And it was in that state that an idea emerged in your brain. You bid Nat goodnight and went to your room, picking up your phone and dialling the only important number.

—-

Bucky was already asleep when his phone started vibrating next to his head. He wanted to ignore it, thinking it could wait till morning to deal with the world and with the person being so rude as to call him so late at night.

But when he saw who was calling him, he sat up straight and didn’t hesitate in picking up.

“Doll? What’s wrong? Where are you? Should I come for you?” He was distressed, just the mere thought of you being hurt made him want to vomit. He could gut a person with his bare hands, but he couldn’t stand the thought of you suffering.

He heard a little giggle escaping your mouth, and your heavy breathing and his brows furrowed.

“You could come alright if you know what I mean,” he heard you say seductively, and his face was now wearing a look of utter confusion.

Warning, smut starting

“What? Y/N? Are you- are you drunk, doll?” He asked, his hand on his face as he tried to breathe through his slight panic attack.

“Maybe, maybe not. But I miss you, James, and I thought we could have a little fun, what do you say?” You were whining, and before Bucky knew what was happening a strangled moan left your lips, and the sound went straight to his groin.

“Doll, are you doing what I think you’re doing?”  

“Depends. What do you think I’m doing, James?” The way his name rolled off your tongue would be enough to get him off. He loved it when you called his name, all sweaty, with puffed up lips, parted enough he could kiss you deeply whenever he liked.

He growled as a response, and he heard you moaning again. His dick was already standing proud, just the thought of you making it all excited and ready for action. Bucky sighed and lied down, keeping his sleeping pants on, just freeing his aching cock.

“You’re teasing me, Y/N, that’s what you’re doing. So stop it, and tell me exactly what you’re doing to that pretty pussy of yours.”

He could hear the sudden intake of breath on the other side of the line and had to smirk at your reaction. He could have you gasping even if he wasn’t there to perform his magic

Few seconds passed before you regained your composure and actually started talking. Bucky was just intently listening to the sounds leaving your mouth, imagining what you looked like at the moment, and each image his mind created was hotter than the previous one. But he knew no matter what he imagined, the reality was ten thousand times better, and he seriously hated himself for letting you go home. He could’ve been balls deep inside you by now.

“I’m picturing you with me, James, the way your beard scratches along under-boob, and the way you suck on my tits when you thrusting deep inside me, hitting all the right spots as you go,” you said quietly, and Bucky could tell you were biting your lip, trying to stay as quiet as possible. But because you were a screamer, he knew you wouldn’t be able to keep that up for long.

Bucky would be lying if he said he wasn’t turned on by your little sighs and moans, and just the whole idea that you got drunk with your friend, and the thing you wanted to do at 1 AM in the morning was to call him and have phone sex with him.

“Yeah? And how does that feel, baby?” Bucky asked you, his voice strained from the effort of not coming right there and then.

“Oh, yeah! You feel amazing, James. So good and ohmygod… so sooo deep! Ooooh,” you were muttering and moaning, and Bucky couldn’t help it but let a moan of his own escape his lips. He could hear the whimper coming from your bed, and he swore under his breath. You would be his death, Bucky was sure of it.

The rest of the phone call was filled with both of you moaning and encouraging the other to speed up, to do it harder, and it 6 minutes, you were both hissing and groaning, coming together just as if you were actually sharing a bed.

Warning ending

For a moment, all that could be heard on the line was panting, both of you trying to calm down your hearts, and come down from your bliss.

“Well,” Bucky said when he regained his composure, “that was something else, doll. You alright?”

He could hear your sighs, and he could only imagine the blissful expression on your face right now.

“‘M fine. Tired, but oh-so-good. I’m sorry if I woke you up, I just needed to hear your voice.”

Your voice indeed sounded exhausted, and while Bucky cleaned himself, he mumbled on the phone, grinning like an idiot.

“Never apologise for wanting to have sex with me, phone or not. And if I ever tell you to stop, or to quit it, please, just kill me. Go to sleep, Y/N. You’re going to work tomorrow, and you should get at least some rest before you do so.”

You just hummed, and Bucky was pretty positive you were already drifting off, tired and satisfied. He smiled at the phone and mumbled a low goodnight before he hung up and went off to sleep himself. And all he could dream off that night was you being curled against his side, safe and sound.

—-

The whole day was a nightmare. Not only did you have a slight hangover in the morning, and your head felt like it would burst into flames any minute, you also came a bit late to work, which didn’t help your situation at all. Not that your boss minded too much, but still. You hated it when you were late.

By the end of the day, you wished you could be at home, taking a hot bath with your favourite scented candle, and let the whole day disappear from your mind.

But, obviously, Bucky had different plans, when it came to your evening, because as you got out of the office, there he was, standing like a statue surrounded by his men.

Kate and the others looked like deers in headlights, just standing there, confused and slightly terrified, with their eyes looking like they’d fall out if they moved. You just nodded their way and rolled your eyes at Bucky and his dramatic entrance into your personal life. He just HAD to come there.

You could feel all the eyes on you as you walked towards the black SUV and the infamous man standing in front of it. Only Nat knew about your relationship, and you thought you’d have a bit more time keeping in secret. But obviously, Bucky’s plans differed from yours and oh boy, would he hear about that one!

You didn’t even spare him a look, giving a small smile to Peter and Sam who were next to Bucky and you got in the car, shutting the door right behind you. You crossed your arms in front of you, clenching your jaw.

You didn’t even know why you were this mad. At first, you thought it was because you didn’t want to be seen with Bucky, his reputation preceding him. But then you realised that you didn’t care about that anymore. Sure, he was a gangster and he, without a doubt, did some things you wouldn’t even want to know about, but when he was with you, and with people he cared about, he was this amazing guy who would do anything for his people. And that’s what you valued the most.

It was that he didn’t even tell you he’d come and very obviously show everybody who you were seeing. It was your privacy as well as his, and you hated that he just made this decision without consulting you.

When he finally got in the car, he immediately turned to you with his eyebrows raised. You huffed out a breath and turned to face the window, not ready to have this fight just yet.

“Would you share with me, what the hell was that all about? Don’t I fucking deserve a kiss, picking up my girlfriend from work? What you so pissed about?”

You didn’t even answer him, not wanting to cause a scene in front of his men. Sam may have been his best friend, and Peter was still a kid, but you knew better than to lecture him in front of them. You just shook your head and waited till you got to your apartment so you could have a civilised conversation with him, which you knew wouldn’t happen in the car.

When Peter pulled over in from of your building, you said your goodbyes to the two in front and nodded at Bucky to follow you. He didn’t even question you, probably curious and pissed as hell you were still not speaking to him.  

Once in the apartment, he followed you to your room, closing the door behind the two of you, and once again, raising his brows at you.

“You gonna tell me what’s got your panties twisted or should I fucking deduce it somehow?” He was pissed, alright.

You turned on your heel, facing him with a furious expression.

“Did I ask you to come and pick me up from work? Or did you just DEDUCE that was something I wanted and just fucking acted on it?”

His expression was blank, but you knew that a million thoughts were running through his mind.

“You still on about that bullshit that I’m not boyfriend material and people are gonna judge you? Thought we got over that! Thought you were ok with being my girl,” he raised his voice at you, and you flinched at his tone, but you weren’t about to be intimidated by him. No fucking way!

“And have you ever asked me to be your fucking girlfriend, when you’re running around like a macho, acting as if we were a solid item, huh?”

Bucky was stunned. He told you you were his, and all of that, but he never thought you’d actually want him to ask you to be his girlfriend.

He smirked and took a step closer, you taking one step back. You were not ready to make up just yet.

“I didn’t know it was required, doll. If only I knew, I would’ve asked a lot sooner! I told you you were my girl and you didn’t protest, so I took it you were fine with that. But if you’re not, fine. My beautiful, amazing Y/N, would you do me the honour and be my official girlfriend? Please?”  

Well, that please really did that for you. Bucky, and pleading, you wouldn’t get anything better out of him, anyway.

“Since you’re asking so nicely, James,” you accentuated his name and smirked at him, earning a chuckle from him.

“You can be so fucking difficult sometimes. Why didn’t you say so in the car?”

“I was worried we would actually fight and I didn’t want to undermine your authority in front of the guys,” you smiled sweetly at him, and let him pull you in a hug.

“I’d spank your cute ass if you did that! Oh, and I came because I had another question on my mind. Is it a good time to talk to you about something else, or are you still pissed at your boyfriend?”

You swatted his chest lightly.

“What is it, my amazing boyfriend?”

He kissed the crown of your head and pulled you even closer.

“My birthday is coming up, and we have this tradition, that always on my birthday we organise a ball in some specific theme so that we can gather around looking dope as fuck and having a lot of kinky sex. Which, I hope, will be with you this year,” he added quickly, seeing your face turning red.

“Would you come with me, as my date?”

/Next Chapter >

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[dayasbun]

Public - Fezco

Summary: The one where you made the mistake of telling Fez that you have a kink for public messing around.

Warning: Oh LAWD the smut in this...i pulled all of my kinks out for y'all...enjoy <3

-

God he looked so good.

You and Fez were at a buisness meeting- not the usual scene for you two, but the company you were a part of offered you a huge promotion. In result, you and your man were invited to their headquarters for a meeting of enjoyment and just some education on your new position.

The man at the table blabbed away- your new boss- and you nodded politely as he spoke. But your mind wasn't on him, it wasn't even on the new position- it was all on Fez.

He wore a black pinstripe suit with black dress pants and a pair of shiny black shoes. 5 rings were spread out on his fingers between his two hands, and fuck the whole outfit was just so goddamn sexy.

Every time you looked over at him, your eyes filled with lust and your mind filled with some of the dirtiest thoughts you'd ever had. All you wanted was him.

Soon enough the meeting came to a close, but the portion where you and the other newfound employees ate dinner together was still to come. Another 2 hours was left and you didn't know if you could control yourself that long.

You and Fez got up, looking for the nearest bathroom since you both had to go. His hand was on your waist, something he did often to keep you close to him. Every woman in that room watched as you two walked out, some of the men too. Fez was fine as hell, you knew that...we all know that- and he cleans up so well. You smirked as you two turned the corner and finally arrived at the bathrooms.

"If those girls in there drooled over you any longer I'm afraid that they would've flooded the floor."

Fez chuckled at your comment, his hand still on your waist. "And I ain't even look that good either like damn girls just be loose nowadays."

"Um no girls aren't loose, you're just a very fine specimen baby...especially when you wear that suit." you trailed your fingers from his bushy beard down to his defined chest.

"Girl dont you act up or I may have to take care of you."

You went on your tiptoes, placing your lips next to Fez's ear. "You know I have a kink for public shit." you whispered before spinning around with a giggle and heading into the bathroom.

+

The dinner at the business get-together was just as boring as the lecture before, but hey at least there was food. You and Fez sat next to a sweet couple, a girl with red hair named Zara and her husband Chris. They had been together for 14 years and were only 32, it made you think of your future with the man who kept his hand on some part of you at all times. But you tried not to think of the future too often. Fez always told you that if you look too far into the future, you'll miss what's happening in the present.

The more the dinner went on the more you squirmed. He looked so good you couldn't handle it. You two hadn't had sex in a while, two weeks and a day to be exact. You had both been busy, but all you wanted was for Fez to fucking blow your back out- he could do it right now in front of all of these people if he needed to.

Because you needed him now.

To give him a hint of where your mood was, you slid your hand onto his crotch under the dining table. He didn't react but you felt his dick twitch under your hands, and that made you so wet that you thought it may show up on the chair you were sitting in.

"Don't do this shit unless you really want to do this shit." he muttered into your ear so that only you could hear. In response you squished the member and he licked his lips nodding, almost as though he was accepting a challenge. He quickly moved your hand and placed his own on your crotch under the yellow printed dress you were wearing; the tables had turned. After feeling how wet you were his eyes widened in pure shock. He worked his way in between your thighs and underneath your panties to the wet area he called 'his'. You grabbed at your dress to try to control yourself but it didnt work, so instead you let out a strange cough, leading to Zara asking if you were okay. You nodded in response and smiled softly.

Meanwhile under the table Fez was going to fucking work. 4 of his fingers- of course he chose to use the hand with the most rings on it- were continuously pumping in and out of you, and your legs were spread so wide you couldn't believe no one could tell. You prayed no one dropped their napkin, but a naughty part of you said that would be a good thing and they would get a show. You tightened your thighs around his hand for more pleasure, but he didn't like that and a quick pinch led to you keeping them wide and open again. He worked his entire hand inside of you and holy shit you were seeing stars and feeling heaven. Not moaning was the hardest part, you loved screaming out his name and he loved hearing it.

You took a hold of his wrist and pushed his hand even farther in- a bad choice on your part because the pleasure was so intense that you started to shutter. You could feel the coldness of the rings inside of you and his fingers wiggling around hitting the spots that only he knew about. You and Fez could both feel you ready to come out, and as soon as he pulled his hand out there it was, all over his hand and the floor. Fez made a calm motion of dropping his napkin and swiftly leaning down to get it, but during it he made sure to leave a lick and a light kiss against your pussy. You growled under your breath as he grabbed the wet panties you had worn from the floor and placed them quickly into his pocket, leaving your pussy loose and exposed to the cold air.

You quickly excused yourself from the table and stumbled to the bathroom, praying Fez would follow. Your prayers were soon answered because just seconds later you felt his hands on your back. "Go." he said quietly and you took his instruction and walked into the women's room. As soon as the door closed your dress was dropped to the floor, leaving you in only a bra.

He looked you up and down and bit his lip "Damn. That's really all mine huh?"

"You know it is."

With that he picked you up sitting you on the counter and spreading your legs. He dropped to his knees and began to eat you out, and you could finally let your moans ring loud and free. You kept your hands in his hair as he ate you out like you were his favorite food.

"Fuck baby oh my god I love that y- you know I love that-"

"Who's pussy is this?" he asked, he did this a lot- his dominant side had to make sure you were all his, only his.

"Hmmm I don't know." You taunted him, leading to him spitting on your clit and biting it softly.

"I'll ask one more time, who's pussy is this?"

You shrugged pushing your hair back and never breaking eye contact. He raised a brow and stood up flipping you around and dropping his pants. You smiled but you didn't let him see it. You felt his length against your ass and let out a moan. "Put it in baby come on..." you begged.

He teased you for a minute, rubbing the head around your entrance but eventually slid in. His strokes started slow and long, you moaned uncontrollably as he fucked you with so much passion.

"Fuck Fez fuck-"

"You feel my shit in you?"

You nodded and groaned, holding onto the counter for the bit of support you had. He slapped your ass as he moved, something he knew you loved. "Faster..."

He moved with more rythym and faster than before. The sound of your skin slapping with his and his heavy breathing was you heard. As he slid in and out you heard the door creak, turning to see Zara standing in the door frame, her mouth in a wide 'o'. You couldn't even say anything, you were way too into this shit to care about a coworker watching you- and Fez barely even noticed and most definitely didn't stop.

"Deeper baby come on keep fucking me just like this-"

With that Zara quickly rushed out closing the door behind her but gasping quietly before doing so.

Fez grabbed ahold of your hair and fucked you even harder- it had never gotten this intense between you two during sex. The counter was shaking and the mirror was rattling against the wall- fuck he was so deep in, and his cock was just so thick. You knew people outside of the bathroom could hear, but to be quite frank you didn't give a single fuck.

"Baby you look so fucking good right now goddamn... your pussy all wet and drippin' and me all deep in you...fuckkkkk Y/N."

You tried to groan out a response to your boyfriends statement but failed terribly, only making small gurgling noises from your throat. You didn't even know it was possible for him to fuck you this hard but lord knows you weren't complaining.

After a few minutes he calmed down, he was ready to cum and most definitely wasn't wearing a condom- y'all didn't need a baby quite yet. Fez pulled out of you slowly and flipped you around yet again. He came on your chest with a huff and you grinned watching him. He rubbed it in like he always did (he said that his cum was like lotion...literally only Fez would say that shit) and pulled his boxers and pants up.

"Holy shit baby, didn't even know you had that in you." You said breathlessly as you kissed his hand softly.

"I got even more than you could ever imagine. and yo lil friend came in here and saw us, you think she finna snitch?"

You chuckled a bit "Fezy she doesn't have to, I'm pretty sure everyone in the building heard you fuck me like that."

"Good, that means they all know I mean business and you mine."

"Yeah yeah I know dominant ass." You sat up and put on your bra and dress. You put your hand out for your panties but Fez simply shook his head.

"Oh you thought I was done? This buisness ass shit still got an hour left."

"Oh so you're gonna play with me more?"

"Fo' sure."

"Bet."

#fezco fic #fezco imagine #fezco x reader #fezco euphoria #fezco #angus cloud #angus cloud fic #euphoria #hbo euphoria #fezco smut

[steakook]

not a house but a home

Pairing: boyfriend!Jungkook x Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Domestic Fluff, Angst, very very light Smut if you squint

A/N: feeling all kinds of soft for the babie after his “Never Not” cover. This was supposed to be a Drabble but, as always, jungkook takes my heart further ༼;´༎ຶ.̸̸̸̸̸̸̸̸̸̸̸̸̸̸̸̸̸̸̸̸̸̸̸̸̨̨̨̨̨̨̨̨̨̨̨̨.̸̸̨̨۝ ༎ຶ༽ . Enjoy!

///

“Babe?”

I let out an unintelligible response. My toothbrush is still buzzing in my mouth, for God’s sake. Jungkook takes it as a sign to continue.

“Can you please please PLEASE clean your side of the bathroom?” He says pleadingly with puppy dog eyes but also a hint of seriousness. He means business today.. of all days, Monday.

“SDFGHHH!!! DFYJKGGJK” I let out.

“I know it’s morning and I know you’re grumpy but PLEASE I can’t keep looking at this mess.”

I spit out into my sink. As I’m doing so I look at the cocktail of toiletries that litters my side of the vanity. 5 different Bobbi brown lip tints strewn about. Several makeup brushes and palettes clutter the white marble. Multiple face washes, moisturizes, and various other skincare products I’ve been sold by the deceptive Sephora employees, 83% of which I don’t use. Hair. Hair everywhere. I can’t help it, with hair like this I can’t just empty my comb every single day.

“I have no idea what you’re referring to.” I say to my beautiful and unfortunately meticulous boyfriend with a smirk.

He heaved a loaded sigh.

“Baaaaaabe.”

Here we go.

“I can’t look at this every morning!! How can you have your side so messy and still be able to operate throughout the day clearly?! Being organized brings peace to one’s life.”

Oh God I don’t remember putting something up his ass last night and leaving it there. I giggle in my head. I need to save that joke for later.

“You know, if I knew you’d be this messy, I would’ve just stayed at the dorms. Living with you is basically as bad as living with them.” Jungkook says, no trace of playfulness in his voice.

“Oh really? The same? Y’all giving each other cuddles?? Y’all sucking each other’s dicks?! Hmm??”

Ok in all honesty i really shouldn’t start a fight this early in the morning let alone week. But he knows how grumpy I am in the mornings. Not only do I have to wake up and ungodly hour (7am is ungodly for some of us, okay?), but I naturally hate being forced out of my comfy bed cuddling with my exorbitantly organized but very hot boyfriend.

I look at him. He has an incredulous look in his eyes. We’ve had this fight multiple times since moving in with each other 6 months ago. To be quite frank, there have been more growing pains than happy moments. I started realizing my organized chaos choice of living deeply contrasted jungkook’s need to put everything in its place and if it can be alphabetized, all the better. I’m annoyed and so is he.

“Are you serious? Can’t you do this ONE thing for me? One thing that will significantly improve not only mine but your life as well? I swear it’s amazing how much you accomplish at work when you practically do nothing at home.”

Oh. Wasn’t expecting that.

He must see the change in playfulness in my face, immediately regretting his words.

“Babe I’m sor-“

“Don’t worry about it. I have to finish getting ready. I have a big presentation to present to the Japanese stockholders this afternoon regarding our globalization plan.... I mean, hopefully i don’t fuck it up seeing as how I live my life in such a clusterfuck it’s a wonder how i get things done there. Right, jungkook?”

I don’t wait for him to answer as i leave our shared bathroom but he just continues to stand there. I hit him low too.

Living together has put quite a strain on our relationship because we haven’t really found that symbiotic rhythm yet. To be honest, I kick ass and take names in the board room but I’ve never found myself to be very... well... domestic at home. Jungkook, on the other hand, not only is good at every chore. He is amazing. he has a neurotic obsession with making sure laundry never overflows in the hamper, dishes are always clean and the sink is empty, and making sure dust never accumulates. I swear to God. For someone who is an international kpop sensation, how does he have time to keep our house looking so great everyday.

This is a quality of his I worship. His never ending never endingness. There is always work to be done, this can always be cleaner, that can always be done today not tomorrow. Me, on the other hand, I wear two hats. There is the Business Y/N who has an MBA and literally climbed her way up the corporate ladder. Queen of making deals and making grown men cry around the world. I have a 401k. I know. Amazing. But outside of that, I’ve always been Party, easy going Y/N. My job already requires me to be ruthless yet charismatic AND strategic everyday, I don’t need to bring that elsewhere.

If I hadn’t had the second hat, I don’t think I would have ever met jungkook. We met at a random awards show I was attending for fun with some friends, my close friend from B-school scoring us tickets within the artists’ seating. We’ve been inseparable ever since.

I’ve always envied kook for his ability to be at the forefront in everything in his life. From his career, to his multitude of sports and hobbies, to taking care of his homestead. He’s more serious and cares more about little things than I think he purposely lets on. We are yin and yang. opposites attract, yes, but can they actually coexist?

It’s been a long day when i get home at 10pm. Funny enough, both our schedules are so hectic but perfectly align with his late dance practices and my evening calls to Belgium.

Our golden doodle puppy greets me.

“Matcha!!!!!! How are you my love???” She showers me with kisses. Oh how lovely this is after a particularly shitty day.

I turn into the tv room and see him laying there icing his knee. He looks gorgeous. Even now, barefaced and in a hoodie that’s three times his should-be size and basketball shorts, watching the 6th season of nartuto. (For the 7th time).

We look at each other waiting for one to break. It’s always been like this. What more could you expect from two highly-competitive and maybe a bit self-righteous individuals? Maybe we are more similar than we are different.

“Hi baby.” I cave.

The hard look on his face softens. He puts his guard down, relieved we won’t have to fight. I go over and lay down next to him making sure i don’t hit his knee. He wraps me in his large arms and I feel a glow of comfort. He smells like fresh laundry. (Which is probably accurate since he made sure to do a load today before heading to the studio.. someone say ANAL RETENTIVE with me!!)

“You smell so nice.” He is soft. No, he is softness personified. As much of a tough, stubborn Virgo as he is, he is a ball of pudding when it comes to after work moments like these. He tucks his nose into my hair. And kisses me absentmindedly.

“About this morning-“ He starts. But I cut him off.

“No, no. I’m sorry. I know it’s been hard living together with our opposing..... lifestyle choices” he snorts. “But I know you’ve had to bend to me more than I’ve had to bend to you. And for that I’m sincerely sorry. I haven’t made nearly as much of an effort to make this work. But the change has been hard for me. I’ve never had to live with a boy let alone share a bathroom with one. And not only that, I had always imagined I WOULD BE THE CLEANER ONE.” He chuckles quietly and plants some chaste kisses on my temples.

“Babe, no. I know. You’re still adjusting. But I need to apologize too. I didn’t mean what I said earlier but i just get so frustrated sometimes! You’re hard headed and I am too. But still I shouldn’t have said those things I’ve said about you not being great at your job. Your ferocity is one of the reasons i love you. It’s also extremely hot.”

I smile and look up into those big brown doe eyes and I melt. How could he look so good after practicing the whole day? And how could he be so patient and loving to someone like me? Messy and unorganized.

“I love you. So much. I don’t deserve to be with someone like you. You’re amazing at everything it’s so damn frustrating sometimes. Not only do you devote your life to an occupation that require so much of you, you also still make time to take care of us, this place. I’m sorry I don’t make things easy.”

“Y/N. You may be frustratingly messy. I don’t understand how one person can produce so much goddamn hair at once to be quite honest. You shed more than Matcha. But being with you is easy. You make life easy. You give me easiness when so so so many other things in this life are so hard and time consuming. So many people want so much from me and I want to be the person they need. But when I’m with you, it doesn’t feel like work. It’s easiness in its purest sense. Even though you don’t clean up your shit.”

I giggle.

“But even then, i wouldn’t trade this for anything else.”

I kiss him chastely and he holds my chin up for better access. We kiss like this for a while before he swipes his tongue against my lip asking for permission. Though he doesn’t need any. The kiss escalated into something deeper. Hotter. He licks into my mouth and I feel heat stir in my stomach. Fuck.

He uses his arms already wrapped around me to place me on top of him. Ice bag long forgotten on the floor. We make out passionately as if our lives depend on it. I put my hand to the back of his neck and run through his gorgeous thick chocolate hair. So lush.

I find myself straddling his waist and grind my core against his half hard-on. He moans.

“Fuck..”

I grind harder with intention and fill fires of lust consume me. Holy fucking shit. It always feels like the first time. He puts his hands on my thighs gripping them and forcing me to go harder onto his dick.

After a few minutes he sits up, lips still connected and lifts me up. I smirk into the kiss already knowing where this is going. He carries me along the marbled tile hallway to our bedroom and throws me on the bed. He strips himself of his hoodie.

“You know... you’ve been quite disobedient to me, Y/N. I think it’s time to put you in your place.” He says sternly. God, he has never looked more hot.

///

A/N: thank you so much for reading!!!! Hopefully you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. This is my first fic so please let me know if you liked it! 

Lots of love.

-M

#jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook reader #bts smut #jungkook x reader #bangtanarmynet #jungkook fluff #boyfriend!jungkook #domestic!jungkook #jungkook #slice of life

[angrylizardjacket]

Run to Paradise {Nikki Sixx} Part 32

32. if we go down then we go down together

Summary: lola meets nikki's mom, gets a promotion, and tommy plays nurse, oh my!

Warnings: heroin use, mild gun violence, uhhh, lime i guess? like sensuality.

ragtag bunch of misfits: @starlalove @toofasttofallinlove @xrosegoldwolfx @obsessivesky @lovehelpmewrite @marvelismylifffe @lilytalebi @glitterdreamsz @freddiessmallnipples @crazysaladchopshop @dramatique-moi @calspixie @aryssav @catsoo12 @sweetshutter @silvertonguedserpent @shamelessobsessions @lavenderbones22 @keepcalm-and-beyou @scarecrowmax @nicholeh7 @unknownoblivion @sighsophiia @fruitinthebottom @misscharlottelee @local-troubled-writer  @redlipscrystalskies14 @kaitieskidmore1 @the-specific-oceans

{ MASTERLIST }

Nikki throws himself into his heroin addiction like his life depends on it, if only to be able to make it through a conversation with Tommy without blurting out that marrying Heather is a huge mistake.

"It's his mistake to make," Lola had to remind him, her touch gentle against his heated skin. Nikki, unaccustomed to not getting his way, and with a newfound sense of jealousy, is not handling it well. He alternates hot and cold whenever he interacts with the drummer, icing him out one minute, acting like they're closer than ever the next, and Tommy, ever the lost little puppy, is drowning in confusion.

"Is he on something new? Is it the zombie dust?" Tommy asks, slinging his arm around Lola as he murmurs to her conspiratorially. Lola's skin burns at the contact, but she refuses to let it show. He was hanging around her, he was touching her again, she'd take anything she could get.

"He's going through some stuff," she said with a tight smile, and Tommy makes a noise like he understands, "hey, if he - or you - need anything..." Tommy trailed off, but Lola understood, and she gives him a gentle thanks, and steps out from beside him. Things between them have been better, thankfully, but right now Lola's got bigger things to worry about.

The last thing Nikki needs in the middle of his sexuality crisis and having to watch one of the people he loved marrying someone else, was Doc's misguided attempts at being a good Samaritan. Doc had learned the hard way that to surprise Nikki or Lola, he had to keep the secret from both of them.

When Doc knocks on Nikki and Lola's door a few days before the end of the tour, just a week before Christmas, it's after a hard night of partying; the phone's ringing, Lola's already itching for a hit by the time she jolts awake to Doc's shouting.

"Answer the door, Sixx," Doc calls through the door, and Lola groans as Nikki swears beside her.

"It's our morning off," Lola whines, turning and burying her face into her pillow.

"When did we get food?" Nikki asks blearily, pushing himself up off of the mattress and the half-eaten burrito he had been lying on.

"Vince's suggestion," Lola mumbled, barely coherent, into her pillow.

"Fuck you both; Lola, I know you're in there," Doc continues banging on the door, but Nikki stands, delightfully pantsless, and makes his way to the door, grabbing a half-finished drink from the table on his way.

"Alright, asshole, calm down," Nikki snaps back as he opens the door to an already fully dressed Doc waiting for him. There's a long pause, followed by the faintest exasperated groan from Doc.

"Clean yourself up, you've got a visitor," his gaze flicks to Lola, stark naked, laying starfish on the bed with her pillow around her head to block out his voice, "I think you'll want to bring her too."

Nikki closes the door on his face, but complies.

"It's probably a reporter," Nikki doesn't even bother to shower before he's pulling on a pair of leather pants. Lola shakes her head beneath the pillow, enough of a movement that Nikki can interpret.

"Doc would have told me if it was," she tells him, before heaving a sigh and herself out of bed. They get dressed in mutual annoyed silence, broken only by Doc occasionally telling them to hurry up. Lola's wearing one of Nikki's singlets tucked into a miniskirt, while Nikki's wearing a polka dot shirt that neither of them will admit to owning, though they both look very good in.

Finally, as they open the door, Doc looks them both over, like a parent checking his children look presentable enough for their first day of school.

"Wash your faces," he instructs.

"Eat my ass," Lola snaps, right at the same time as Nikki tells him to suck his dick. Doc looks pained.

"Him I understand, but you? You've been doing so well," Doc sighed, his voice full of gentle disappointment, but Lola just crossed her arms; Doc's gaze flicks for a moment to her chest before her lets out a noise of annoyance, "and wear a damn bra; can this please be the one hotel lobby that doesn't see your nipples?" Nikki snorted a laugh at that.

"It's my morning off, you jag," Lola tells him, cocking her hip.

"Wash the puke off your face," Doc ordered the both of them, and reluctantly, they both stepped back, once more taking the satisfaction of slamming the door in his face. On the bright side, however, as Lola pulled on a leather jacket in favour of a bra, she hears Nikki going through his luggage. Once she turns to him, she sees him silently pull a needle and baggie from his luggage, waving them enticingly.

"Fine!" Lola shouts at the door, feigning anger, but her expression reads delight as Nikki searches his pockets for a lighter. They head to the bathroom, turning on the sink to mask the noise as they liquefy their heroin, and Lola sits up on the bathroom counter. She slides her skirt up until it's up around her hips, and Nikki leans into her, crowds her against the wall with his hand warm on her thigh, kissing her roughly. Lola sighs gently into his mouth, and when he breaks away to concentrate on injecting her, she lets her head fall back against the wall as the needle pierces her thigh, and the drugs flood her system.

When she opens her eyes, she sees Nikki watching her with a intense gaze, but gentle amusement, adoring how relaxed and trusting she was in these moments. He quickly refills the needle, and holds it out to her, offering his other arm. He braces against her thigh with his other hand as she injects him, and after capping the needle, the kiss they share is surprisingly tender.

With little more preamble, mostly due to Doc yelling that this face washing was taking too long, they did, in fact, was their faces and leave, looking as respectable as they could manage, despite Nikki bringing a bottle of JD with him. Both still mostly annoyed with Doc for ruining their sleep in, both Nikki and Lola are silent on the elevator ride down. As the doors open, however, Doc explains.

"Your mother called, Nikki; she asked to come to a show," he explained, and every muscle in Nikki's body seemed to tense at once. Like an icy wind had blown in, both he and Lola could feel the whole world shift to something wrong, "so I thought, with it being the holidays and all -" Doc seems so pleased, so self satisfied, as if he didn't have Nikki's personal devil smiling at the three of them like she's happy to see them.

Deana Richards stands and smiles and opens her arms for a hug from Nikki, approaching him like she has any right to, while he's frozen to the spot, looking more ill than usual.

"Merry Christmas, Frank," she tells him, and even Lola recoils at that, lip curled in a silent sneer at the woman.

"That's not my name," Nikki tells his mother as she hugs him, but he doesn't push her away, his grip white-knuckled on the neck of the bottle he'd brought. Lola's hands are in fists by her side, like she's aching for a fight, but this isn't her battle.

"My baby," Deana murmurs into Nikki's hair, holding him close. Nikki's heart aches with old, still unhealed wounds, as he leans into her embrace, just a little. "That song," his mother starts, stepping back a little, eyes wide and curious and gentle, "the one about looks that kill," at the mention of the song, Nikki's eyes flick to Lola, who's watching with a thinly veiled disgust, "it's about me, isn't it, Frankie?" But his mother draws his attention back, and Nikki feels the deeply buried rage and hurt simmering suddenly just beneath his skin.

He steps back, and her expression falls, from warm to uncertain, and she calls him Frankie again in confusion. In a split second, everything about Nikki changes, contorts with rage.

"That's not my fucking name!" He hollers, and throws the bottle to the ground, shattering it instantly before he storms off, and Lola wants to chase him, but Doc's after him and Deana says her name.

"That's what they call you, right? Lola?" She asks, and it takes everything in Lola's being not to sock the woman in the face, "his girlfriend?"

"I'm his partner," Lola spits icily, before turning sharply on her heel and stalking towards the sounds of Nikki's anger.

"You are not my fucking father, and you are not my fucking friend," he's turned on Doc, anger and betrayal in his eyes, in his voice, in his heart, "you're just another leech with your hands in my pockets who wouldn't be standing there right now unless you were getting something out of it, so just fuck off, Doc," Nikki snapped, bitter and hurting. When Lola reaches for him, her hand finding his, he flinches away for a moment before he sees it's her, and something in him relaxes, just a fraction. After a beat, he grabs Lola's hand and leads her to the elevators, all but yelling over his shoulder.

"Lo, you're our manager now; Doc, you're fucking fired."

It's not as simple as that; there's more signatures required than days in the year, and the rest of the band are hesitant. Mick, especially, trusted Doc to know what he was doing, and takes more than a little convincing; it's only with Lola promising that she's turned over a new leaf, and that she wants what's best for them, that he finally stops his quiet campaigning to rehire Doc.

Once the tour ends, she visits Doc, but he seems surprisingly nonchalant about it.

"I think if anyone can get them all in line, it's you," but she can sense the caveat he's working up to, "but that's only because you, more than anyone else, know who they really are." He hands her a hefty stack of folders, "this contains every contact I had for them, every schedule, every note I've ever taken for or about those assholes, as well as lists of venues they're banned from, parental watch groups that hate them, publicists and photographers who refuse to work with them, and hotels they have owed money in the past but somehow still let them stay there."

After a moment of strained silence, Doc steps back, leaning against his desk with his arms crossed, giving her an appraising look.

"If you and your heroin addled, self sabotaging boyfriend make it through the next year alive, I'd wager you'd be unstoppable," he says, with a blunt honesty, and Lola frowns, but he barrels on, "I'll call Tom Zutaut and tell him I've handed over all the documents; he'll call and set up a meeting with you in the next few days."

"I didn't think I'd be sad to see you go," Lola tells him, but she shrugs after a moment of consideration, "and I'm not." But it's with a well worn fondness for the end of their routine.

"Working with you was one of the most painful experiences of my life, Lola," Doc tells her honestly, and Lola can't help but grin at that. After a moment, however, Doc's voice softens, "good luck, Miss Gone; I'll see you in hell," which would have made her laugh if it wasn't so heartfelt and sincere.

"See you in hell," she tells him with a warm smile, and leaves, closing the door on their bittersweet goodbye.

Lola all but drowns in paperwork, even with the tour at an end, she's trying to follow Doc's scheduled for their next album, working around Tommy's upcoming marriage. The label wants them back in the studio within six weeks of the tour ending, and Lola's fighting to keep up. She turns one of the spare rooms into an actual office, gets herself a business phone line, and starts getting tabloids delivered so she can keep a track on the band's public image through outside perspectives. She's getting calls from across the world for people wanting to interview the band, even her, and learns the hard way that Doc had been the one dealing with the band's fanmail. So now she's got a P.O box, and has to collect the mail daily, both fan and business inquiries, until she has to get a second P.O box, and make a whole new set of calls informing anyone wanting to work with the band, where to send their mail.

A month has passed before she realises, a month spent in a haze of work and heroin; Nikki's been spiraling in her peripheries, but she can't help him, he won't let her help him. He's icing her out, and so while Nikki's been locking himself in his cupboard, paranoid at all hours of the day and night, Lola's been feeling a little like Atlas, the weight of her world on her shoulders, the band's future.

The incident with Nikki's mom had broken something inside of him, something he didn't even want to consider fixing for reasons unknown to Lola. Couple that with Lola's long hours alone in her office, and Tommy being preoccupied with Heather, Nikki was on a knife edge.

"I'm losing you both!" He shouted at her through the cupboard door, paranoid, shaking, when Lola had just been trying to comfort him.

"Babe, you're not losing me, and you're not really losing -"

"Don't fucking lie to me, Lola!" Nikki had hollered, before growing worryingly quiet, "you're working with them." He hissed.

"Who?" Lola sighed, and Nikki practically snarled at her.

"They bugged the house, but I was too quiet so they want you to rile me up!"

"Nikki -"

"Get out!" Nikki shouted, banging on the closet door, effectively scaring Lola, making her jump, "get the fuck out!"

Nikki's been festering in his heroin-induced paranoia, trying to lock Lola out, interrogating her when she gets back about where she's been. She's been sleeping on the sofa more often than not, alone, while Nikki lays mostly catatonic in the bedroom closet. As Nikki relies more on the drug, Lola finds she's using it less, afraid of what Nikki's become, afraid she might become that herself.

It comes to a head the day Nikki fires at her through the front door after she gets back from the post office, telling her to get off his property, that she was a spy for the government, or Doc, or his mother.

"I've been in your office! You have my face in there a thousand times over! It's obsessive; you're obsessed!" He snarls, and Lola rests her forehead on the door.

"I'm your manager, I'm compiling articles on the band, baby, please," she tries, but it's clearly not the right answer. The bullet grazes her arm.

She doesn't know where to go. Reasonably, she should go to the police, or to hospital, or to Mick to have some kind of sense talked into her. But her nerves are shot raw, and there's only one person she trusts with her emotional state like this, the only person other than the man who'd fired at her.

"Nikki's locked me out," Lola's looked almost guilty standing in Tommy's doorway, with tear-stained cheeks and a trembling lip. There's a stack of letters in her hand, and her arm's bleeding.

"Holy shit, are you okay?" Is Tommy's first question, but Lola still won't look at him.

"He's acting paranoid," she swallowed hard, "threatened to shoot me if I opened the front door," Lola's voice is barely a whisper, "he did shoot me, a little," she admits, turning her arm so he can see where the bullet had grazed her, "he's scaring the shit out of me, I didn't know where else to go." It's like it's hard for her to admit, and there's an unfamiliar sincerity about her vulnerability. This isn't a ploy, she isn't trying to manipulate him, that much he can tell.

"He could have killed you, Lols," without thinking, he's inviting her in, stepping aside, his hand on her shoulder, warm and familiar.

"I know," her voice is weak, and he leads her through to the bathroom. She sits up on the bathroom counter as he goes to find Heather's medical kit. For a moment, with the water running, and him tending to her wounds, so gentle and no nonsense, Lola's hit with a wave of deja vu, of nostalgia for a time long past, and in an instant, her expression crumples as she can't even hold back her tears.

Tommy panics, still trying to apply cream and bandages to her upper arm, while Lola sobs beside him.

"How did we all get so fucked?" She demanded, "how did we go from being those kids in that shithole apartment, to this?" But he doesn't have an answer for her, just keeps tending to her, "how did I ever let myself hurt you?" She hears herself saying, and Tommy hands still where he's wrapping a bandage around her arm.

"We've all made mistakes, Lols," his voice is gentle, and he carefully makes sure the bandage won't come loose. As soon as her arm's free, Lola crumples, hunched over, her head in her hands.

"I'm so sorry I'm here, Tommy," and she means it when she apologises, "I know Heather doesn't like me, I just..." there's something that warms his heart, how she still trusts him so completely, even after everything.

"Heather's filming in New York for a few days," he tells her gently, wrapping his arms around her, "and you're always welcome here." They stay like that for a long while, together, Lola weeping and Tommy gently rubbing her back.

"I can't believe he shot at you," there's an anger in his voice that Lola hadn't been anticipating, and his grip tightened for a just a moment. But then, as soon as she'd heard it, it had passed, and Tommy stepped back, his grip gentle as he took her hands, "come on, Lols." Pulling her to her feet, he lead her to the living room, to the big, plush sofa there.

He bundled Lola up in blankets, with as many pillows as he could find, trying to make her comfortable as she still sniffled.

"Heather's got a whole bunch of girly movies," he explained, kneeling by the VCR cabinet, "we could watch -"

"Do you have Pinocchio?" Lola asks, voice small and watery, to which Tommy gives pause.

"Pinocchio?" He asks tentatively. Lola nods. Expression apologetic, he shakes his head. "I don't think anyone I know has it."

"I do," Lola says quietly, as if almost to herself, "bought it for myself for Christmas a few years ago; they only sold it for about a month and a half." She looked up, as if remembering Tommy was still there, "what's your favourite? I'm happy to watch that."

"I never took you for a Pinocchio fan," Tommy muses with a half smile, glad, more than anything else, that she'd stopped crying.

"It was dad's favourite; we'd go and see it every time it released in theaters."

"Dude that's adorable," Tommy told her with an affectionate sincerity.

"I know," Lola said with a faint, pleased smile, before brushing it off, "I don't care what we watch; you pick."

When she asks why he's being so nice, so accommodating, Tommy admits to missing her, to missing his best friend, though that's said with a moment of discomfort. He misses Nikki too, but now's not the time to talk about him. Instead, he asks what the letters were that she'd brought, and Lola's more than happy to tell him about how much fanmail the band gets.

They read through the letters and postcards, both adoring how earnest a lot of the words were. Lola had planned the sit the boys down to sort through and respond to any that caught their eye, and send generic letters back to those that didn't, but she and Tommy work through the few she'd brought that day without any fuss. The fans get to know that one of Lola's favourite movies is Pinocchio, while one of Tommy's is the sound of music, and Lola finds herself enjoying the work more than she had in the past month.

They get Chinese for dinner, and Tommy lets Lola eat most of the spring rolls, and they drink beer and watch TV and it almost feels like old times. They talk together, laugh together, and as the night wears on, Lola finds a familiar comfort in how sleepy she gets with her head on Tommy's shoulder.

A yawn escapes her, and Tommy moves automatically, moving her so she could lay her head in his lap, his fingers carding through her hair.

"Can I ask you something?" Tommy asks, only half paying attention to the ads.

"Of course," Lola says around another yawn, shifting to make herself more comfortable.

"You were just... just so okay with like, dating me and Nikki and Vince," he mused quietly, and Lola's not sure what to say to that, "and we were okay with it, but like, it could have been weird, but it wasn't."

"I know, I was there," Lola tells him with flat amusement, and Tommy laughs, giving a gentle, absentminded tug on her hair, to which Lola has to stifle a quiet groan.

"How did you know it was okay? To love all of us?" He asked, and Lola swallows, trying to find the right words.

"I didn't," she admitted, "I was just very, very lucky."

"Didn't what? Know if it was okay?"

"Know if it would work out," Lola clarifies, shifts a little, and Tommy's hand rests still in her hair, "but it did."

"And you just knew you loved us all?"

"I knew I wanted to be with you all, be friends, be fuck buddies, be, you know, more; the love came later." Lola turns now, from her side to lay on her back, to look up at Tommy with wide, curious eyes. He was looking back down at her like he hadn't in a long time, and his hand cups her jaw.

"Is it easy to love more than one person?"

"As easy as breathing, if you really do love them," Lola tells him, leaning into his touch.

"Can I ask you another question?" His voice is quiet, Lola nods once. "Did you really love me as much as you love Nikki?" Lola's breath catches in her throat, and suddenly her mouth feels dry; he's running his thumb so softly along her cheek bone, his other hand resting on her hair.

"You don't want me to answer that," Lola says, weakly, and something about Tommy's expression darkens as he jumps to conclusions.

"Because it's no, isn't it?"

"Because we're both weak, you know this, drummer boy, and you're about to get married, and- and-" but the dam breaks and there's tears in her eyes but she can't look away from him, "of course, Tommy, of course I love you as much as I love Nikki, but it doesn't matter now -"

He kisses her quiet, leaning in until she props herself up and meets him half way, kissing him hard. They fit together like they were designed to be in each other's arms, and Lola hates herself for what she's doing, how weak she's being, but to know that he still loves her, even a little, enough to still want her, she'll take it.

His touches make her feel like porcelain, like he thinks she's moments away from shattering, and perhaps her mind is, but her body is a different story. But she finds she doesn't mind, likes how tender he is and how gentle she wants to be in return, wants to tell him she still loves him with her fingertips on his skin when the words won't come out.

They make love like Lola hasn't in a very long time, precious and intimate, yet fully aware of how wrong this situation was. There's a mutual sense of regret shared in the shower, and Lola sits on the bathroom counter in the nude, not meeting Tommy's gaze as he redresses her wound.

"Did you come here for this?" He asks, voice a little guarded, and Lola swallows hard, shaking her head.

"No," she tells him honestly, "I just needed to be with the person who makes me feel the safest."

She stays the night in his bed, wrapped up in his arms, his warmth, his scent, and it feels like home. He offers to let her stay longer, but Lola rejects his offer, tells him she needs to head home and try and see if she can help Nikki.

"He shot you," Tommy frowned.

"He's going through a state of drug-induced psychosis, he needs help," she tells him gently, and Tommy nods, but then reconsiders.

"How do you know that?"

"Family history of psychosis; I researched a shitton about it after Doc pulled up all that info on my family," Lola explained. As she goes to leave, Tommy catches her good arm, and pulls her in for a hug, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"Be safe, call me if you need anything," he tells her, and Lola steps away, sad smile on her lips.

"You know, we really need to learn to let go of each other;" Lola's smile doesn't reach her eyes, "you should be happy with Heather."

"So you're allowed to love more than one person, but I'm not?" The heartbreak reads on Tommy's face clear as day, and Lola can't look at him.

"It's different," Lola's voice is gentle as she finally gets to the door, "it would be different if Heather liked me."

"Would it?"

"If you wanted it to be."

Lola gets home to Nikki almost crash tackling her in an attempt to give her a bear hug, as he was shaking, muttering about how he'd thought he'd lost her, that she'd been taken. Lola kisses him gently and hides his gun, and when he offers her heroin, she takes it, if only to forget the feeling of Tommy's lips on her skin, and the sadness in his eyes when she'd left.

Going to his wedding wouldn't be fair on either of them, she needs to let him have his happy ending without her.

#nikki sixx #tommy lee #tommy lee imagine #nikki sixx imagine #nikki sixx x oc #tommy lee x oc #the dirt #the dirt imagine #motley crue #motley crue imagine #the angry lizard writes

[aion-rsa]

The Public Enemy Solidified Gang Rule Under James Cagney for 90 Years

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William Wellman’s The Public Enemy (1931) turns 90 this weekend. When the film first came out, a theater in Times Square showed it nonstop, 24 hours a day, seven days a week. The movie marks the true beginning of gangster movies as a genre. Mervyn LeRoy’s Little Caesar may have hit theaters first, but The Public Enemy set the pattern, and James Cagney nailed the patter. Not just the street talk either; he also understood its machine gun delivery. His Tommy Powers is just a hoodlum, never a boss. He is a button man at best, even if he insisted his suits have six buttons.

The Public Enemy character wasn’t even as high up the ladder as Paul Sorvino’s caporegime Paul Cicero in Martin Scorsese’s Goodfellas. But Cagney secured the turf Edward G. Robinson’s Rico Bandello took a bullet to claim in Little Caesar, and for the rest of his career Cagney never let it go.

Some would argue genre films began in 1931. Besides mob movies, the year introduced the newspaper picture with Lewis Milestone’s The Front Page and John Cromwell’s Scandal Sheet; Universal Pictures began an unholy run of horror classics via Tod Browning’s Dracula and James Whale’s Frankenstein, with the two turning Bela Lugosi and Boris Karloff into household names; and Howard Hawks’ Scarface would land the knockout for the gangster genre, even if it didn’t get released until 1932.

Sadly, the classic “Gangster Film” run only lasted one production season, from 1930 to 1931, and less than 30 films were made during it. Archie Mayo’s The Doorway to Hell started the ball rolling in 1930, when it became a surprise box office hit. It stars Lew Ayres as the top mug, with Cagney as his sidekick. For fans of pre-Code Hollywood, it is highly recommended. It includes a kidnapping scene which results in the death of a kid on the street. Without a speck of blood or any onscreen evidence, it is cinematically shocking in its impact.

Both Little Caesar and The Public Enemy earned their street cred, defying the then-toothless 1930 Motion Picture Production Code, which preceded the Hays Code. After New York censors cut six scenes from The Public Enemy to clear it for release, the Motion Picture Producers and Distributors of America (MPPDA) set further guidelines for the proper cinematic depiction of crime.

Public Enemy director Wellman was an expert in multiple genres. He spit out biting satires like Nothing Sacred (1937) and Roxie Hart (1942), and captured gritty, dark realities in The Ox-Bow Incident (1943) and Story of G.I. Joe (1945). He won his only Oscar for A Star Is Born (1937). The Public Enemy is the first example of what would be his trademark: stylish cinematography and clever camera-work. The dark suspense he captures is completely different from the look of German expressionism. It captured the overcast shadows of urban reality and would influence the look of later noir films. His main character would inspire generations of actors.

“That’s just like you, Tom Powers. You’re the meanest boy in town.”

Orson Welles lauded James Cagney as “maybe the greatest actor who ever appeared in front of a camera.” Will Rogers said watching Cagney perform was “like a bunch of firecrackers going off all at once.” The New York City born performer explodes in this movie. Even in black and white, Cagney’s red hair flares through the air like sulfur on a match. It turns out to be a slow burn, which will reach its ultimate climax in 1949’s White Heat. The Public Enemy is loaded with top talent, but you can’t take your eyes off Cagney. Not even for a second. You might miss some tiny detail, like the flash of a grin, a wink, or a barely perceptible glare.

Cagney had a simple rule to acting: All you had to do was to look the other person straight in the eyes and say your lines. “But mean them.” In The Public Enemy, the characters communicate without lines. When Tom and Matt Doyle (Edward Woods) sneak a peek into Larry the Limp’s casket, we understand this is the first time the two young thugs lost someone their own age. The scene barely implies how fortunate they are not to be in that box, but their curiosity is as palpable as the loss of their last shred of innocence.

Cagney was originally cast as Matt, and scenes were shot with him in the role. The parts were switched mid-production, but they didn’t reshoot the flashback scenes, making it look like the pair swapped bodies between 1909 and 1915. It’s a shame because Frankie Darro, who plays the young Matt, made a career out of playing baby face Cagney, and later joined the East Side Kids franchise.

Former “Our Gang” actor Frank Coghlan Jr. took on the role of young Tom. He takes the lashes from his cop father’s belt, backtalking him the whole time. Tom Powers is reprehensible. He never says thank you and doesn’t shake hands. He delights in the violence and sadism. Powers doesn’t go into crime because of poverty; he just can’t be contained. Cagney’s mobster mangles, manhandles, maims and murders, and still needs more room in his inseam. 

Dames, Molls, and Grapefruits

Besides defying the ban on romanticizing criminals, both The Public Enemy and Little Caesar broke sexual codes. There are explicit signs that Rico Bandello represses his sexuality in Caesar. Scenes between him and his friend Joe, and his gunman Otera, thinly veil homoerotic overtones. Public Enemy’s Powers, by contrast, subtly encourages the gay tailor who is openly hitting on him.

There are strong indications Putty Nose (Murray Kinnell) is grooming Tommy and Matt for more than just fenced goods. Look at the way Putty sticks his ass in Powers’ face while he is shooting pool. Putty Nose’s execution at the piano is creepily informed by the unspoken sins between the men. Tommy relishes the kill.

However, Tommy doesn’t relish being manhandled when he’s too drunk to notice. While the gang goes to the mattresses in the movie’s gang war, Tommy is raped by Jane (Mia Marvin), his boss Paddy’s girl. Powers protests the best he can, but the camera angles leave no doubt. Tommy wakes up hungover, horrified, and feeling impotent. Matt, however, has no trouble getting “busy” with his girlfriend Mamie, played by Joan Blondell, in one of the scenes trimmed by the censors.  Blondell, Jean Harlow, and Mae Clarke, who plays Tommy’s girlfriend Kitty, represent a glitzy cross-section of white Roaring Twenties glamour. In the opening credits, when Harlow and Blondell smile at the camera, male audience members of the time blushed.

Harlow was Hollywood’s original “Blonde Bombshell,” starring in the movie that coined the term. Her earthy comic performances would make her a major star at MGM, but she was a dud to critics of The Public Enemy. Hers was the only part which was criticized, and the reviewers were brutal, declaring her voice untrained and her presence boring.

Harlow’s greatest asset had to be contained within the Pre-Code era. Straddled with a wordy part as a slumming society dame, she is directed to slow her lines to counter the quick patter of the rest of the cast. Yet Harlow uses that to her benefit in the film’s best moment of sexual innuendo. While telling Tommy about “the men I’ve known,” she pauses, and appears to be calculating them in her head before she says, “And I’ve known dozens of them.” When an evening alone with Tommy is cut short, Gwen’s exasperation over the coitus interruptus is palpable. Members of the Catholic Legion of Decency probably had to go to confession after viewing the film for slicing.

Most people know The Public Enemy for the famous grapefruit scene where Powers pushes a grapefruit into his girlfriend’s face. “I wish you was a wishing well,” he warns, “so that I could tie a bucket to you and sink ya.” Tommy treats women like property. They are status symbols, the same as clothes or cars. Kitty’s passive-aggressive hints at commitment get on Tom’s nerves. He can only express himself through violence. There are rumors Cagney, who would go on to rough up Virginia Mayo in White Heat and brutalize Doris Day in Love Me or Leave Me, didn’t warn Clarke he was going to use her face as a juicer. According to the autobiography Cagney by Cagney, Clarke’s ex-husband Lew Brice loved the scene so much he watched it a few times a day, timing his entrance into the theater to catch it and leave.

Both actors have said it was staged as a practical joke to see how the film crew would react. It wasn’t meant to make the final cut. Wellman told TCM he added it because he always wanted to do that to his wife. The writer reportedly wrote the scene as a kind of wish-fulfilling fantasy.

The screenplay was written by Harvey F. Thew. It was based on Beer and Blood by John Bright and Kubec Glasmon. The unpublished novel fleshed out press accounts of the bootlegging Northside gang leaders, Charles Dion “Deanie” O’Banion, Earl “Hymie” Weiss, and Louis “Two-Gun” Alterie. Cagney based his Tommy Powers character on O’Banion and Altiere. Edward Woods was doing his take on Weiss. The book reflected the headlines in the Chicago papers, which reported Weiss smashed an omelet into his girlfriend’s face.

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The Public Enemy borrowed from the day’s headlines in other ways too. Hymie Weiss was assassinated in October 1926. It was the first reported “machine-gun nest” murder. It is recreated in the killing of Matt Doyle. While shooting the sequence, Cagney ducked real machine gun fire to bring authenticity to the scene. Also taken from real life is the fact that after O’Banion was killed in ‘24, Alterie’s first reaction was to do public battle with the killers. This is similar to Tommy’s final shootout at Schemer Burns’ nightclub headquarters.

Leslie Fenton’s dashing mob captain Nails Nathan (“born Samuel”) flashes the greatest grin in mob movie history. He is based on Samuel “Nails” Morton, a member of O’Banion’s mob. Both “Nails” were driven to their coffins the way it is depicted in The Public Enemy. The real Morton died in a riding accident in 1923, and “Two-Gun” Alterie and some of the other gang members went back to the stables, rented the horse which kicked Nails in the head, and shot the animal. Mario Puzo may have been inspired by this scene when he wrote The Godfather. It is not only tie to the Francis Ford Coppola movie. Oranges have as much vitamin C as grapefruits. Another similarity between the two films is the threat of being kidnapped from the hospital by a rival gang.

The Powers brothers’ relationship vaguely echoes the one between war hero Michael and Sonny Corleone, who believes, as his father does, soldiers were “saps” to risk their lives for strangers. Donald Cook, who played Mike Powers, didn’t pull any punches on the set. In the scene where he knocks Tom into the table before going off to war, he really connects. Wellman told Cook to do it without warning so he could get that look of surprise. Cook broke one of Cagney’s teeth, but Cagney stayed in character and finished the scene.

“It is a wicked business.”

After the stock market crash, get-rich-quick schemes seemed the only way through the Great Depression. The gangster was an acceptable headline hero during Prohibition because the law was unpopular with the press. But after 1929, the gangster became the scapegoat villain. The Public Enemy was the ninth highest grossing film of 1931. But the genre lost its appeal after April of that year, as studios pumped out pale imitations and audiences got tired of the saturation, according to the book Violence and American Cinema, edited by J. David Slocum. Religious and civic groups accused Hollywood of romanticizing crime and glamorizing gangsters.

The Public Enemy opens with a dire warning: Don’t be a gangster. Hoodlums and terrorists of the underworld should not be glamorized. The only MPAA rule the film didn’t break was portraying an alliance between organized crime and politics. The studios passed the films off as cautionary tales which were meant to deflate the gangster’s appeal by ridiculing their false heroism.

Through this hand-wringing, however, Cagney turns false heroics on its head with the comic brilliance of a Mack Sennett short. Stuck without a gun, he robs a gun store armed with nothing but moxie. Powers never rises in the organization. He takes orders and whatever the boss says is a good cut, only asking for more money once from Putty Nose. Unlike Rico, who rose to be boss among bosses, Powers has no power to lose. This is just the first gig he landed since he was a regular “ding ding” driving a streetcar, and it connected with audiences like a sock on the button. They identified with the scrappy killer, and it surprised them.

Even Gwen notices Tommy is “very different, and it isn’t only a difference in manner and outward appearances. It’s a difference in basic character.” Strict Freudians might lay this on his mother (Beryl Mercer), the greatest enabler Cagney will see until White Heat. Ma Powers’ little boy is a budding psychopath knocking off half the North Side, but look at the head on his beer. For audiences at the time, Tom was the smiling, fresh-scrubbed face of evil. He is consistently unsympathetic but likable from the moment he hits the opening credits.

Like Malcom McDowell’s Alex in A Clockwork Orange, he is the fiend’s best friend. Even if it is Tommy’s fault his best pal Matt gets killed. While Cagney spent his career ducking his “you dirty, double-crossing, rat” line from Taxi, the actor wasn’t afraid to play one in Powers. He’s not a rat in the sense he’d snitch on anyone. He’s the last of the pack who sticks it out for his pals when his back is up against the wall.

A Hail of Bullets

Tommy Powers goes by this credo: live fast, die young, and leave a corpse so riddled with bullets, not even his mother can look at his body when he’s done. But then, no one can end a film like Cagney. He’s danced down the White House stairs in Yankee Doodle Dandy (1942), been rolled across the concrete steps of a city church in The Roaring Twenties (1939), and was blown to kingdom come in White Heat. He gets two death scenes in The Public Enemy, a rain-soaked climax, and a denouement as scary as The Mummy. Tommy only brings one gun to the gang fight, and by the time he hits the pavement, he’s got more holes in him than the city sewage system.

“I ain’t so tough,” Tommy says on his final roll into the gutter. Cagney’s first professional job was in a musical drag act on the Vaudeville circuit, and he called himself a “song and dance man” long after retirement. For The Public Enemy, conductor David Mendoza led the Vitaphone Orchestra through such period hits as “Toot Toot Tootsie (Goodbye),” “Smiles,” and “I Surrender Dear.” But the song “I’m Forever Blowing Bubbles” is the one which lingers in the memory. Martin Scorsese has cited it as a reason his films are so filled with recognizable music.

Street violence comes with a natural soundtrack. Transistor radios accompany takedowns. Boom boxes blast during shakedowns. Car stereos boost the bass during drive-by shootings. In The Gang That Couldn’t Shoot Straight, mobsters feed quarters into a jukebox to cover up sounds of a beating.

In The Godfather, Part II, a street band plays traditional Italian songs while Vito Corleone puts bullets in the neighborhood Black Hand, Don Fanucci. The last thing we hear in the abrupt close to the mob series The Sopranos is a Journey song. The first thing Tommy’s mother does when she hears her boy is coming home from the hospital is drop a needle on a record.

The ending leaves us with two questions: Who killed Tommy, and what’s his brother going to do about it? We figure whoever did the job on Powers was probably a low-level button man from Schemer’s rival outfit. Probably even lower down the ladder than Tommy, and on his way up, until another Tommy comes along. Crime only pays in the movies, Edward G. Robinson often joked.

Mike’s reaction to the bandaged corpse is ambiguous. He’s already shown outward signs of the trauma following the horrors of war. Is he clenching his fists in anguish or anger? Is he broken by the battlefield or marching off in vengeance, a soldier on one last duty? Cook’s exit can go either way.

After 90 years, The Public Enemy is still fresh. It’s aged better than Little Caesar or Scarface. Cagney wouldn’t play a gangster again until 1938, but the image is etched so deeply in the persona, audiences forget the vagaries of villainy Hollywood could spin, and the range of characters Cagney could play. He and the film continue to influence filmmakers, inform culture, and surprise audiences. Tommy Powers was just a mug, but those streets are still his.

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[pinehutch]

(Thoughts about living in a body, some things are tagged but also, content warning for like, extreme self-indulgence and a whole lot of words.)

Pull up a chair (god knows I have), and let me tell you about living in my body. 

Something always hurts. You are 38 years old;  of course something always hurts, but sometimes what hurts is the reassuring prick and hot-cold lance of the Sunday evening injection site. Prick of the upper thigh, show some leg, know that your fingers will unfurl in the morning in a way that’s pulled along by your intent. 

You look younger than you are, if you are not too tired, if you have dyed your hair to hide the silver that started coming in at 22, if you’re performing the right kind of agelessness. The skin on your face has faint freckles and very rarely any blemishes, faint lines on your forehead since your mid-teens. One slightly dark spot that you’re keeping an eye on, that you remember to keep an eye on only for 2 minutes every day, while you’re brushing your teeth. You resolve to keep an eye on it. You forget by morning. 

It is a good face. It has nice eyes, and a rosy mouth, and a pleasant structure. You’re not exactly proud of it, or your hair, but you’re on decent, civil terms with the above-the-bust zones. You know that not wearing makeup is a privilege you have, that other people spend money and time and energy on makeup to appear to have it as good as you do. People will say kind things, and strangers may smile when they see you. 

You still wish you knew what to do with makeup. You still wish you could signal, here I am, look at me, I am trying to tell you something with this face. You are not in control of what your face is saying to people. The consequences of this lack of control are presenting an appearance unrelenting openness. Strangers may talk to you when they see you. 

Strangers! They have so many opinions! They will see you walking to and fro, and they will say to themselves, I believe that is a woman, and they will say to themselves, I have an opinion about this womanish person, this body, and they will say to you you gorgeous and you fat slut and you stuckup and you freak and you tits, you red hair, you hips. They will offer you a ride in their van (oh my god, their van), and will follow you for three blocks to ask if you have a husband, and they will shyly approach you in the produce section, and they tell you about their friend who is A Big Girl, Too, and they will throw pornographic comments at you on your second meeting, they will insist you do not need that size jean, and they will spit in front of you as you try to keep your head down, to keep moving. 

They have watched you at the gym, and they have laughed at you. (They don’t matter, and they are few and far between.)

(Every now and then they will give you thoughtful compliments sometimes, on the things that you’ve chosen. You should always give thoughtful and appropriate compliments to people, when you can.) 

Your body does not feel like it is yours alone. It is you, but it is not yours alone. It is a public and a private, personal nuisance. A man on the subway bumps against your ass four times in two stops. A woman on an airplane looks grim when that ass means you wrap an extender around your hips, pushed up up out of the seat. (Ha, seat.) Your shoulders are broad and you go to a show in a lovely old theatre and the whole time, you are curling, curling, curling inwards. You are muscle and bone, and you are trying to be a flower, folding petal-soft and unobtrusive. 

You cannot be unobtrusive. You simply do not fit. You have clothing in a range of 8 different sizes and you could wear all of it on the same day. Every dress is too short. 

Your body can be useful. Yes, it hurts, and it’s tired, and sometimes even the gentle push of your hands through the water for thirty minutes means your fingers will ache for a day and a half. You can’t always open a jar without a knife, but you can lift a heavy object onto a high shelf. Can anybody reach that? You can. You can walk for miles in the city dragging fifty pounds of luggage and you will even recover.  You can, on a good day, manage a seven-k trail, or ramble in the woods for some hours. You can carry the potting soil up to the third floor deck and fill the planters. You cannot climb out of the pool without a ladder, or you will limp for the rest of the week, and wear wrist braces. 

You can manage. You can live in your too-tall, too-broad, too-strong, too-fragile body, and you can live well in it, when it is only one part of you. 

You live in the world. You live in the world and so much of it is spurred by hatred and money and the money you spend to stop hating yourself. When you are 20-something, you start looking for alternatives. (You think you are looking for cute clothes; you find new ways of thinking, about your body, about all bodies, about bodies which are people. You find some cute clothes, too. Seeing the forest doesn’t take you out of it.) You learn that there are people who have functionally stopped hating themselves. You stop, functionally, hating yourself for being the body that you are. 

It gets easier, for a while. It never goes away, but it does get easier, and you learn so much about how you can be a person, a person who is and who has and who lives in a body, and never only any one thing. You practice telling yourself that every body is a good body, even while you read deeper and wider and realize that not everyone can feel that their body is a good body. Even if all of those systems and people and rules that say this body is good but this body is not good were not in place, not everyone can feel that their body is a good body. Some bodies aren’t even very successful at their primary function (i.e. being alive). Some bodies hurt all of the time. 

Ten years later, and your body becomes one of the kinds of bodies with above-average premature mortality rates. It becomes one of the kinds of bodies where something hurts, all of the time. For a time, you cannot manage very well at all. You cry a lot, because you are in pain, and you are frightened, and nothing works, and you lose a year of your life to hands locked in fists and panic attacks and vomiting up different combinations of meds. The (terrible) social worker will tell you that heels are not a part of anyone’s identity, and ask if you’ve tried eating kale. Your mother will say that you should lose weight; you do not walk on your hands, though. Your father will tell you that the same disease is in his wife’s lungs. Your boss will tell you, with kind eyes, about the long-term disability accommodations available to you (it’s only a forty per cent salary cut). The pamphlet will tell you that statistically, you will not be able to work for more than 10 years from this point. People who love you will kindly remind you that you had been working too much, volunteering too much, and that stress is probably a triggering cause. 

You will leave that year behind. You will leave it, walking and swimming and carrying on. You will dance in the shower again. You will learn to speak up when you are in crisis. You will never wholly stop feeling betrayed, and it is impossible to tell where the betrayal came from: did your body betray the you-of-your-mind, by detonating the sleeping danger in your genetics? Or did your mind betray that you-of-your-body, by pressing too hard on the seal holding back that self-immolating flame? It’s a never-ending, tedious dialogue. (Is it my fault? It is my fault. Is it my fault it is my fault is it my fault it is.) 

You will learn to smile at your reflection again. People will say, you are beautiful, and you will know it is true for them, and that if you are beautiful like a whale, like an iceberg, like a thornbush, like a moonroad, like a forest, like anything lovely and grand and untouchable and inhuman - at least you can take comfort in good company. You try to turn that misty gaze upon yourself. 

You would like to look at yourself in the mirror and see only a person. You would like to look in the mirror and see only a you-who-is-whole. You will, you resolve. One day you will. 

*** 

So, I’ve been tired beyond tired this week. I’m sleep-deprived and not clear-headed, and this was terrifying to write, but it comes from a place that is as honest as I can make it. In frank terms, I’m 178 cm tall, and right now my every piece of clothing I’m wearing is a ‘straight size’ XXL and made of super soft jersey, because I’m in my pyjamas. My wardrobe ranges from a regular XL to “I got this wool coat made-to-measure because nothing else would cover my hips without falling off my shoulders.” 

The thing is: I started consciously and deliberately seeking out information on body positivity and on fat acceptance in, I dunno, 2002? 2003? I learned so much from intersectional feminists on the internet who were having complicated and often very personal conversations about bodies in general, and about ‘fat’ bodies in particular (what’s a fat body, anyway? what’s a tall one?), and then about the ways fatness intersects with race, gender, class, and ability besides. By the time I got to thirty, I was genuinely relieved to not be wasting energy hating myself on a daily basis. 

And I mostly don’t, still, most of the time. I’ve never quite ‘gotten over’ the sense of bruised identity that comes with a chronic illness, and the way that having a body that is physically more vulnerable has made me feel more mentally and emotionally vulnerable to the kind of social weapons that we/they use against our/each other’s bodies. I continue to do the work of trying to be neutral-to-positive about my body (it’s just me! it has no more or less moral weight than any other body! neat!), but when I feel generally worn-down and otherwise a bit hyper-aware of bodies, it’s really, really hard. 

At least once a day for the last several weeks I have had to stop whatever I’ve been doing when, unprompted, a thought like “it is impossible for someone to want you” or “you are, objectively, disgusting” crosses my mind. (I don’t know why my inner critic is so formal! Just a super-big jerk, really.) I think in words, so it comes just like that, in clear and precise words, and I have to stop and interrupt myself. Usually this is just a pause, and a shake of my head, and a breath, and I throw myself back into whatever has been otherwise occupying me. 

It’s fine - it’s mostly fine. Maybe this is normal, maybe this is how everyone experiences their physicality and their subjectivity. And it will be better in the morning, so now I’ll stretch my hands and fingers, and rest. 

#body issues #negative self talk #chronic illness #internalized fatphobia #street harassment #personal #all opinions and experiences are very very much my own and I hope yours are better and more gentle for you #long ass post that is not at all proof read sorry

[docholligay]

These are messy, disorganized, and ANGRY thoughts for Holocaust Remembrance Day (Israel) .I don’t get sad about this, I get fucking angry. If there’s anyone I could insult, or blame, that would hurt your feefees, I highly, highly recommend you not click on this. I am not responsible for how you feel. Got it? 

Given the preamble I feel I shouldn’t have to say this, but do NOT reblog this, I’m not having this conversation with some 21 year old with an anime icon who’s never met me. 

There’s a cloud over every Jewish head, and it’s always the goddamn crematorium. 

Today is Holocaust Rememberance Day.  I light a yahrzeit candle every year, and I say Kaddish, every year, and I always do it alone, because I think if God wanted me to have minyan to say it with he shouldn’t have let so many of us die. 

One third of the Jewish population on earth was murdered. Think of three Jews you know, if you even know of three of us, and imagine that one of us, gone. Imagine your friend’s Jewish family of six, and imagine knowing that soon it will be four. Imagine. 

It was worse in some places. In Poland, it was ninety percent of us. A family of ten, with one left, that was the story of the Polish Jews, told over and over again. 

But get over it. It’s fine that we’re talking about the collective trauma of an indiscriminate virus, of the idea of losing ten percent of us, but losing one third of your people is something that you shouldn’t be pulling out anymore. Never mind that we were directly targeted, never mind that this was not the first time and will not be the last that the call to arms is against us specifically. Jews just love to complain. The trauma should be long past. 

And I think the numbers were inflated anyway, and other people were killed too, it wasn’t just the Jews. Never mind that the numbers probably are inaccurate as some of us were mowed down into ditches in Poland by the side of the road, and who knows how many there were, never mind that in Russia they lacked equipment and hired farmers to drown us by hand, and they happily took the money. Never mind that I sat in a second grade classroom as we passively discussed how people wanted to murder me, and how my teacher reduced it to a few hours where kids with brown eyes weren’t allowed to use the water fountain. Never mind that they burned us, against our laws. 

“Jews never stop bringing up the Holocaust” but my great grandmother only ever said of Ukraine, “There is nothing left.” I knew she meant no one, but that to say that was too hard. Better to think of the buildings, of the oxen. 

People love dead Jews. Dead Jews can be exactly the pawn you need them to be, proof of whatever it is that you’re saying is right, and it was the way the other guy thinks that killed the Jews. It’s so easy to make someone the big bad, to remember Jews as weak and simpering mice who simply went to their deaths. That’s how people like us, weak, and dead, a cliff note in history. Something to be used.

They accuse us of relying on the Holocaust, but I’ve spent my whole life watching goyim trot it out whenever they fucking feel like being dramatic. Poor Anne Frank is never going to know rest, the spectre of a child who never got to discover who she was and so is the most convenient Jew of all. Her father was criticized for stripping out parts of her diary that contained sexual thoughts, but he knew what I know, that to make Jews worth protecting, we must be stripped of inconvenience, or complication, or difficulty.  As long as we keep burning, there will always be something to keep them warm. So long as we can be refined to the pile of ash they can mix with any material they wish to build their argument. 

Live Jews are inconvenient. They are a messy and complicated and difficult people. They can still fuck up. They can, and will, disagree with you, with each other, and they won’t be quiet about it. Sometimes, we’re unkind to each other! I more than once have accused another Jew of being judenpolitzei, of siding with those who would let us be destroyed for their own ends. On both side of the aisle. We don’t behave. Supporting us doesn’t give you enough points. 

I can hear the crackling, the burning. It’s been in my chest since I was a child, 

I’m so angry, all the time. Anger has been my bondage for years and years, and I try to remind myself that anger can itself be a form of idol worship, and that anger can cause us to become something we don’t want to be. 

Besides, Jews aren’t allowed to be angry. We’re supposed to be quiet and agreeable and patient, and nod along with however the right or the left wants us to be. We have to have the right opinion on Israel, on the mining of our culture, on Anne Frank, on the Holocaust and its causes, on what is Anti-Semitic, and these are the same for the right or the left. All these topics, a goy will tell you how you should think, and Jews that agree with them are the good Jews to protect, and Jews that disagree with them are the bad Jews. I am fucking tired of only deserving protection when I’m agreeing with someone. 

I remember a few years ago, Giles Coren, a Jewish English food writer of Polish extraction, getting into trouble for saying, essentially, “fuck the Poles’. Essentially but also, literally. I remember reading that, and how immediately I thought that he had told one of our secrets, and it was terrifying and gratifying all at once. I’ve been in Jewish groups more than once where someone quietly admitted “I don’t care what happens to Poland,” the names of every family member they would never know unsaid.  I remember feeling pride at how hard Coren went, how he got nasty, how he was angry, how he brought up that the Holocaust was so successful in Poland because Poland already hated Jews. It my first time ever seeing that bitterness, that desire to hit back, to be filled with that flame. Not making it a quiet secret.  I went and found the direct quote from the whole thing that stuck with me forever, because I knew it was true, and I knew it was what would happen when the whole thing started. "I wrote in passing that the Poles remain in denial about their responsibility for the Holocaust. How gratifying, then, to see so many letters in The Times in the subsequent days from Poles denying their responsibility for the Holocaust." He was so angry. People hated him for it. 

I remember being afraid, too. Shut up, Giles. This is going to come back to bite us in the ass. We aren’t allowed to do this. We aren’t allowed to hate the people that murdered us, even though some of them are still alive, even though Poland murdered the survivors who came back. We aren’t allowed to be angry about it. We have to be good Jews. We have to say we forgive them, oh how they fetishize survivors who say they forgive. Please, don’t tell them about that burn inside of us, like whiskey in your chest. Don’t tell them my great grandmother watched Russia’s horrors unfold with a smile on her lips. Don’t tell them she said they got what they deserved. We aren’t allowed. 

Don’t get angry about America sending a ship full of refugees back in 1939, don’t get mad about Ireland only letting in refugees who agreed to convert, calm your fury about Jewish children being taken into Catholic homes, never to be returned to Jewish communities. The British government stopping a trade that would have saved a million Jewish lives. Of course it’s tragic. But there’s no need to be angry. There’s no need to yell. There’s not need to shame anyone over their culpability. 

We have to cry about what happened to us. We are not allowed to rage about it. 

Besides, if it’s everyone against you, you cannot be mad at the whole goddamn world, Holligay. 

There’s a part of Indecent, a play tumblr and facebook reduced to “lesbians!!” while completely missing the point of what it was about, about Jewish identity and struggle, the search of legitimacy and the role of stories. Sholem, the writer, goes into a deep depression, and is sitting in a doctor’s office, while all of them are acting like this is so clinical, and he snaps. How can he not be like this, in a world where to be a Jew is to be like this? I felt that same flush, that acknowledgment of fury, of the world never getting it. 

Even writing this, I feel I’m letting some secret out. They’ll hate us if they know.  They’ll hurt us if they know. Smiling Anne Frank, who believes people are truly good, that’s what we have to be. Shut up, Doc. This is going to come back to bite us in the ass. 

I light the yahrzeit candle and realize there’s no match in my hand, that somehow it has been kindled from my own anger, from my own white-hot hate. It burns me, too, and the pain of it pricks my eyes with tears. I do not often generalize, about Jews. This is because I actually know them, and we evade an easy box to be put in. We are an asterisk of a people. But I guarantee damn near every Jew you know has this burn inside them, that they might not even themselves understand. Maybe it’s quieter in Jews who got out early, whose families don’t carry the burden of knowing there’s a burnt patch of earth where your family stops. But I don’t think so. 

I think we all know it could happen to us, at any time. And every goy who thinks they are so brave would do nothing in the face of true danger. They would turn you in without a second thought, because that’s what their families did. 

I guarantee some of y’all reading this have your back up right now. Why is she so angry at people who could not have themselves done it? Isn’t she just as bad? Shouldn’t she just let it go? 

Exodus tells us that children and their children will be punished, to the third and fourth generation, and if all God can scrape up is my anger as a punishment, 

My rage is inconvenient to me, too. I tell myself things of all the Jewish philosophers I’ve read, about how we must love mercy, about how the world is desperate need of our loving attention, about how rejoicing in someone’s pain and failure is to spit in the face of what God has made us for. I tell myself these things all the time. I want to find a place where I can hold the truth of this anger, and not let it burn those who hold the community shame of the past. I want to use this fire to warm, and not to burn.

But I will also be honest with you. 

I do not want to hear a single solitary argument against my anger from any Non-Jew. 

You set me on fire. Now you have to let me burn.