Muscle Memory - JokerxReader Imagine.

AUTHOR’S NOTE; Thank you for the request lovely! I don’t feel like i’ve done enough Joker lately and for good reason, because I suck haha. I didn’t really know where to go with this and I really hope it doesn’t suck too bad. Hope it was what you were kind of looking for, so let’s see how this goes!

WARNING: Smut and mature language ahead.

It had been 4 months since you lost your virginity to Mr. J and day by day you found yourself trying to forget it had ever happened in the first place. The Joker was not only your boss, but he was also one of the most infamous criminals in Gotham city, losing your virginity to him was not a bold move, it was just plain stupid.

How long had you even known him, a year maybe? The only forms of interaction you guys ever had usually involved him requesting you for some form of a delivery that included merchandise, guns, drugs, etc because that’s what your job was. Pretty faces were always recruited for one of 3 things; to waitress, to strip or to deliver depending on their skill set. Considering you didn’t give a damn about customer service; you simply knew waiting tables wasn’t going to work. On top of that, you couldn’t dance to save your life so delivering was your only option at the time.

Over the course of these past few months you’ve found yourself literally doing everything in your power to avoid Mr. J. This meant stirring clear of every place you knew he’d be, delivering all your drop off reports, files and cash to his right hand man Frost and ultimately working through a middle man to handle any business you had between the two of you. Everything seemed to run smoothly until your phone nearly fell off the night stand from its constant ringing. Without much thought, you reached over and answered.

“Yeah.” you spoke sternly, obviously annoyed from being woken up.

“2:45. Be here. I got somethin’ I need ya t’take care of.” He reported not leaving much room for you to argue. You instantly recognized it as the voice of Mr. J, but before you could so much as sigh in response, he hung up. You couldn’t disobey him because that could just as easily get you killed or punished; which with Mr. J, one would argue that they meant the same thing. However, you had been on the other end of his torturous punishments before on account of your uncontrollable eye rolls and slight mumbling whenever he said something out of line. The last thing you wanted was to experience that pain again.

The current time was 2:30AM. It would take you a few moments, but you were quite certain that you could get there in no time considering the roads would be nearly deserted at this time of night. As you drove, you couldn’t figure out what irritated you more; the fact that you’d been bothered at 2AM or that he’d called you personally for a job without actually telling you what it was.

Deep scrapes of unease slid through your abdomen as you made your way up the stairs to his penthouse. A sigh erupted from your lips as you peered around the halls hoping to see Frost, but when you came up empty handed you frowned. That was disappointing. Your hand rested on the door knob for a few moments as you attempted to gather yourself while the silence on the other side set you on edge.

Drawing in a deep breath, you push the door openly slowly and began glancing around the dimly lit room only to find Mr. J sitting comfortably next to the large window that took up most of the wall of his penthouse. He gazed out of it as if seeing something that wasn’t there and you had half a mind to wonder what was going on in his mind. Such a dangerous place it was.

“Mr. J, Ya said ya needed me; ya got the package?” You questioned casually while standing impatiently in the doorway.

“Close the door.” He stated not even bothering to turn around and look at you. You were uncomfortable already, and you felt yourself hesitate in the door frame at his request. He finally turned to you this time.

“Close i-i-i-t.” He stated, lingering on the “i” as if he were cooing a child. You couldn’t stop yourself from obeying and the intimidating impulse behind his eyes forced you to look away as you closed the door behind you. You glanced into the distance on the other side of it, as if looking for an out, but you knew full well that there was none.

“So, where’s this one headed?” You questioned turning your body full circle to close the door behind you. It was hard to look him in the face, especially after having it so close to yours in the past. Why were you thinking about this? Tonight’s call was strictly business and should remain as such.

The sound of footsteps caught your attention and you turn around to find him standing closer to you now, but still a comfortably safe distance away. How was it that even though he was still on the opposite side of the room, you didn’t feel safe?

After a few moments of him staring at you, you shift your weight slightly and roll your eyes.

“There is no package, is there?” You assume.

“How long did ya think ya could keep it up huh?” His voice questioned, but it hit the atmosphere with a rhetorical undertone.

“I dunno what you’re talking about.” You try to rationalize, but you should’ve known that rational thinking and Mr. J never mixed. His facial features contorted into a look that resembled displeasure as he slipped his hands into his front pockets.

“You don’t mmmmm?” He questioned. You had done well to convince yourself that, that night never happened, not because you didn’t enjoy yourself, but because a part of you saw it as a heinous act. He was your boss and more than anything your virginity was the only precious thing about you. Now, it was gone and worse, you’d manage to give it to the last person you wanted to touch you; Mr. J. You couldn’t fully erase it; the way he touched you, the way he called you princess, the way he growled in your ear, the way he took his time, the way he kept his hands firmly on your skin; it was unforgettable, but you still tried.

“No, Mr. J. I don’t.” You nearly pleaded hoping he could see the hidden message behind your eyes. Let it go.

“So, it’s Mr. J, now?” He asked with a look that mocked confusion.

“I’ve always called you Mr J, Mr. J.” You furrowed your eye brows.

“That’s funny, it was please daddy the last time I saw ya.” He stated as his voice changed as a mockery of your own. You feel your eyebrow raise without warning and the heat from your cheeks was released in a sign. Perhaps you’d called him daddy once or twice during the entire ordeal, but it was what he’d apparently liked. To bring it up now as a joke to embarrass you was a low blow .

“You don’t remember?” he asked moving an inch closer. A hand absently finds its way to your hair, pushing a few strands behind your ear.

“Ya got something for me t’deliver Mr. J?” You question in an attempt to avoid him all together and the annoyance in your voice was evident. He growled. He didn’t speak this time. Instead, he continued to stare at you and the more uncomfortable you got the more intense the stares felt.

“Ya think ya can avoid me and I not notice?” He moves closer again.

“I told you, I’m not.” You lie. He tilts his head slightly and narrows his eyes. If there was one thing he didn’t tolerate, it was lying.

“Stupid, isn’t a good look on ya doll.” He antagonized. You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Don’t call me that.” You never liked that nickname and no one ever called you it. it implied beauty, frailty and innocence; three things that you were indefinitely not. You were a killer if need be, a hired gun if need be, a delivery girl if need be, a doll; not even in the slightest.

“Mmmm well which do you prefer? Sweetie, baby, pumpkin pie, princess?” He questioned and you couldn’t stop the slight glance to the side as your insides clenched at the idea of the last one. Muscle memory would never allow you to forget the way he made your body feel when he called you that the last time you two interacted. You eyes snapped back to his as you attempted that the current moment didn’t happen.

“Ohhhhh, I like the response to that one.” He cooed taking another step in your direction. You should have known you couldn’t do anything without him noticing it considering his eyes never left your skin, but what did he expect you to do?

“I can’t….do this.” You responded using your fore finger and your thumb to softly grip the bridge of your nose. There was no right answer or response; only a never ending taunt fueled by his vulgar nature.

“Ohhh, what have I taught cha’ about that word?” His voice was low this time as if to put forth an emphasis on his stature over you. His pause was agonizingly slow as he stared at you, waiting for a reply. Your eyebrows furrow in response to his question and you find yourself taking an instinctive step back wards towards the closed door. That word was always off limits and the mere memory of what he did to you the last time you used it was enough to make you recoil from him.

“Should I repeat the lesson?” He questioned and your instant rush of panic caused you to look away from him. Your eyes scanned the room for an emergency out just incase this got messy, but you knew currently there were only 2 ways out of this room with him. One was the closed door behind you and the other was the large window that acted as a wall for his penthouse’s living room. Considering he was the top floor, the window wasn’t an option.

“Please don’t.” You urged allowing your eyes to shut for a brief moment as if trying to destroy the images of his previous lesson from your mind. You still had the scars, the bruises, the scraps and now every time he reminded you of it; you still managed to feel the pain as well. Muscle memory.

“Don’t what?” He questioned placing his index finger behind his ear as if he didn’t hear your plea.

“Please don’t punish me.” You answered and his smile widened. Such a sadist.

“That’s a good girl.” his voice broke as he enthused and if you didn’t know him well you’d think he was overwhelmingly pleased. You rolled your eyes and he growled while taking another step toward you.

“Stop.” you demanded, but there was a slight waver in your voice and it hits the atmosphere like a plea. He smiles.

“I’m am not going to do anything.” he stated simply before pulling his arms up on either side of him as if to show he was harmless, but you knew better. If he wasn’t up to anything then why were you here, and why did you feel anything but safe? Your confusion must have been clear on your face because he finally spoke.

“I just need ya to do something for me….” he suggested, lingering on the last word and taking another step towards you. He was inches away from you now, and you some how felt relieved because perhaps this was a business thing. You felt yourself perk back to life believing the nonsense before was finally over until he spoke again.

“Cum for me.” He spoke in a low tone while focusing his eyes in on your lips.

Your eyebrows wrinkle before your facial features nearly crumble like pastries in front of him. His eyes didn’t meet yours, but they stayed intent on watching your lips as if there was something to be desired there.

“Cum for me, Princess.” He repeated, this time adding the nickname that was now etched into your mind. You could feel yourself beginning to fall apart at the seams, but you still attempted to keep your outer form composed. You refused to be affected by him or his taunts, but you couldn’t stop the feeling of your thighs tightening in response to the growing discomfort in your lower abdomen.

“That’s…..not gonna do anything.” You speak with uncertainty. He smiles again before closed up the rest of the space between the two of you. His left hand reached up slowly to rest firmly against the wall beside your face while his other lightly nipped at the front of your shirt. Your back against the door and his hands boxing you in made you uncomfortable, but you only shifted your weight and looked away from him. It was as if his eyes had fingers and they slowly slid from the base of your body back up to your eyes.

“Look at me.” He demanded shifting his leg slightly so that he was comfortable close to you now. His angle was strategic for he was close enough to keep you boxed in, but far enough to see your entire body in one glance. You wouldn’t indulge him, instead, you took an unsteady breath through your lips.

“Look at me.” he requested again except more stern this time. You couldn’t resist the involuntary movement of your eyes focusing in on his, and the intensity behind them made you feel as though you were a child under scrutiny. You could feel yourself losing this battle for you had a desire for him that you couldn’t control and this fact gave him power over you. The idea and thought of being under someone else’s control nearly made you ill, but you couldn’t stop the reaction you surrendered to him as he looked at you. It was as if there was a click in his head as his eyes dropped from yours and grazed over your frame once more. What was he seeing?

“How long had ya been keeping your little secret? All that killing, all that rage, but you’ve never been touched. What do they call that……irony?” He questioned glancing off to the side as if trying to think of the right word. You didn’t find his false sense of humor funny, and you attempted to push off the wall and move away from him only to have his hand push you back gently.

“Are you done? You think you know me because I make a few delivers for you? Because I answer your phone calls when you need business handled? You don’t know a thing….about me.” You could feel your rage bubbling over faster than you could catch it. You were a complicated person, this you could admit, but to have him stand before you as if you were an open book to him set your nerves on edge.

“Careful. - I fucked you.” He answered simply while allowing a noise from the based of his throat to slip through his lips before moving slightly closer to you. His face remained relatively straight as he spoke. “The way you hesitated when I touched you. Your little looks of confusion when I made you feel things you’ve never felt before. The fear on your face when I made you cum. Had you ever cum before?” His question was taunting but there was a hint of genuine curiosity behind it all. He legitimately wanted an answer.

“Please, stop.” You pleaded when you realized where this was going.

“No, no, no Princess, that’s not one of the answer choices. Yes…..no?” He questioned lingering on the words as if attempting to answer for you. His fingers shook from left to right in front of your lips as if he didn’t want to hear anything else from you, but his eyes once again zeroed in there as if waiting expectantly for your answer.

“No.” You answered honestly feeling yourself giving up. He found solace in your surrender and the small smile on his face assured you of this.

“No….?” He questioned.

“No sir.” You corrected, and his smile widened as he nodded.

“Theeeeeere she is.” he mused before moving his upper half closer to yours before making small patterns into your shirt’s fabric with his free hand.

“Do you still wanna to leave?” He questioned poking out his bottom lip. You nodded only to have him nodded in return as if mirroring your action.

“Then do what I asked, and you can go.” He assured. You wrinkled your eyebrows as you looked at him. What did he want?

“Be a good girl. Cum for Daddy.” He requested slipping his free hand down the front of your pants and into the delicate confines of your underwear. You moved in protest only to have his fingers slide against the folds of your private area. You weren’t prepared for the sudden invasion or the distinct feeling of pleasure resonating at the base of your abdomen.

“Don’t you want my help? …..You want this?” He questioned pushing harder against your skin. You couldn’t answer, you could only think back to the previous time he had his fingers at the base of your sensitivity and you surrendered. He would have you again if you kept this up, but you couldn’t stop yourself. You weren’t his, but in this moment, you were.

fallout 4 housemate headcanons

NO ONE ASKED BUT HERE IT IS (main game companions only)

Cait

“It’s Friday night, we’re going OUT, no bullshit excuses.” Loud music always blaring from her room when she’s home, if you ask her to turn it down, you somehow end up getting dragged into an impromptu dance party. Shots. No sense of personal space, bursts into your room unannounced because she wants to talk to you, doesn’t care if you’re naked. Blunt, thinks everyone you have ever dated isn’t good enough for you, offers to fight anyone who has caused you a minor personal offence. You always end up sleeping in each other’s beds when you get drunk together. Messy af, complains loudly about the cleaning rota.

Codsworth

Obsessively clean. Cleans up after everyone else (or redoes their cleaning because he thinks they haven’t done it properly), but gets passive-aggressive about it later. Always busy, never seems to sit still, hums and whistles as he’s bustling about. Likes organizing things, likes gardening. Worry wart. Makes you promise to text if you’re going to be home later than usual. Loves old movies, especially sci-fi classics, can quote them line for line, most of his bedroom space is dedicated to his home cinema set up. Big fan of tea, owns like 800 different varieties, and also of tea, has all the gossip on your other housemates.

Curie

House mom. Very neat, particularly concerned with bathroom cleanliness. Early riser and always looks immaculately put together, even at ass o’clock in the morning. Worries about your diet and how much sleep you’re getting. “Mon cher, potato chips are not an adequate substitute for dinner.” Has some kind of terrifying and important science job, no one understands exactly what she does, but she gets so excited when she talks about it that no one has the heart to interrupt her. Has never been late for anything, ever, in her entire life, is horrified by people who leave things until the last minute. Likes to take very long baths, disturb her at your own peril.

Danse

Boy scout af. Eats the exact same oatmeal from the exact same bowl at 7am on the dot every morning (8am on weekends). Makes his bed every day, takes exactly 9.5 minutes in the shower. “This level of noise on a weeknight is disrespectful, some of us have work in the morning.” In charge of the cleaning rota. Has “optimized” the cleaning rota. Drags you out of bed at 6am to go running, encourages you even when you snap at him. Easily flustered, awkward at parties. Brought home a stranger for sexy times once, a year ago, and everyone still teases him about it. Will make you a hot drink and listen very seriously while you talk about your problems.

Deacon

Cryptid roommate. You never know if he’s home or not, you have no idea what his job is, he has nothing even remotely resembling a schedule. Pays his rent in cash, no one has ever seen inside his bedroom, it could lead to another dimension for all you know. Occasionally you walk in on him cooking a three course meal at 4am or drinking strong black coffee in his underwear in the middle of the afternoon. You always have the best chats when you bump into him, but then he disappears and who the hell knows when you’ll see him again. He recommends books to you, and then they turn up on your bed a few weeks later, sometimes with a little note written in code.

Dogmeat

A perfect boy, almost certainly the best boy in the whole world. Protective, loyal, affectionate, only pooped in a shoe once.

Hancock

Always has random groups of friends over. Always the last one awake when you throw a party. LOUD sex. Sustained LOUD sex. Has never been seen out of bed before noon. No one knows how he makes money except, you know, you all kind of know. Has the best stories. Total cuddlebug, loves human contact, will massage your shoulders or lie in your lap or play with your hair while he talks to you. Stylish af, you’re always trying to borrow his clothes. Usually messy, but occasionally goes on frenzied cleaning sprees and gets the whole house spotless in six hours. Can’t cook, but will sometimes spontaneously order takeout for the whole house, his treat.

Nick Valentine

Voice of reason and maturity. Holds himself a little apart from everyone else. (Probably has the largest room in the place with an ensuite, or even a floor to himself). Deals with all the landlord stuff because he is the most convincing adult in the house. Very formal text and email style, always starts his messages with “Hi everyone” and signs off as “Val” in the housemate group chat, every damn time. Great with technology, will sigh and roll his eyes if you want to him to take a look at your computer, but secretly loves being asked. Has a liquor cabinet in his room, makes a mean old-fashioned. Gives fantastic life advice, best housemate to go to when you’re upset. Sass him at your peril.

MacCready

Little brother. Messy boy. Anxious boy. His room is an absolute pig sty, except for his comic collection, which is pristine. Useless in the mornings, no point trying to have a conversation with him before 10am. Insomnia. Hates his stupid job. Always quibbling over household bills, doesn’t want to put the heat on, wears seven layers of clothes instead. Does his best to clean up after himself in communal spaces, but it doesn’t come naturally. Can only cook three things, but cooks them really well. Always down to share a few beers and kick your ass at videogames, just give him a second to get all the dirty laundry off the floor.

Piper

Big sister. Freelancer, always home until she’s not. Her room isn’t dirty, per se, but it is ridiculously cluttered, stuffed with books and notepads. When she’s on a deadline, it’s a bomb site. Also, she’s always on a deadline. Lots and lots of coffee, queen of all-nighters. Talks to herself. Will seek you out to run her latest conspiracy theories by you. Gets you embroiled in impassioned political discussions that go on until 2am. Values your opinion even if she doesn’t always agree. Subsists on instant noodles and pop tarts. Very concerned with fairness in the household, invested in the general principle of the cleaning rota even if she forgets her turn half the time.

Preston

House dad. Excellent mediator, wants everyone to be okay. Manages the bills and calls tradespeople when things break down. Total sweetheart but not here to take your shit, especially when it comes to making sure that everyone’s pitching in (but will still insist on helping if he happens to be around while you’re doing chores). Organizes family dinners and games nights, really invested in making the place feel like a home. Knocks on your door when you’re working to see if you want tea or hot chocolate. Remembers everyone’s birthday. Absolute riot when he’s drunk. His room is small and cosy and he’s quite private about it, only invites people to hang out with him there if he really trusts them.

Strong

Seems to subsist entirely on protein shakes, poor personal hygiene, lord help you if you share a bathroom with him. Gym rat, lives in the gym, all his clothes seem to be sweatpants, does not appear to own shirts. Speaks in monosyllables, very gruff, doesn’t understand the cleaning rota and no one wants to explain it to him. Breaks things a lot. Connoisseur of violent videogames. His shelf in the fridge is entirely filled with unidentified meat objects, which you assume are components of the protein shakes, but you’re too afraid to ask. Once he quoted Shakespeare at you and you almost fell out the window in shock.

X6-88

No one has ever seen him enter or exit the house. Has a real adult job that involves a suit. Cycles to work, has a top-of-the-range racing bike and all the professional hi-vis gear. Seems scarily competent and also sort of rich, you’re not sure why he lives here. Appears to have an active social life, but no one has ever met his friends. Unfailingly courteous and considerate, but when he gets on the group chat to politely point out the abysmal state of the kitchen, you can be damn sure no one is ever going to forget to wipe down the counters for a month at least. All the other housemates have a betting pool running on how many people he has killed with his bare hands.

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rtbamapride98

9 years ago

Character Development Checklist 2.0

Several months ago I posted the original Character Development Checklist, because why wouldn’t you need dozens of random questions about your character?

In my humble opinion, there’s no such thing as too many questions. How can we ever know too much about our characters? The reader might not see it, but everything the author knows will mold the characters and the story. How can that be a bad thing?

Which is exactly why I added dozens of questions to the original character sheet. Check out a link to the first one above, and scroll below for an updated version

Basics:

Character’s Name (first, middle, last)

Character’s Nickname(s)

Name pronunciation

Origin of name

Age

Ethnicity

Sex/Gender

Sexual orientation

Hair color

Eye color

Height

Weight

Scars

Tattoos

Birthmarks

Piercings

Right/left handed/ambidextrous

Glasses/contacts

Apparel:

Clothing preferences

Accessories

Style

Trinkets

Favorite possession

Equipment

Grooming habits

Family and Relationships:

Parents

Siblings

Grandparents

Marital Status

Significant Other

Children

Pets

Friends

Enemies

Close relatives

Non-close relatives

Ancestors

Religion:

The religion they follow (if any)

Beliefs

Superstitions

Virtues

Location:

Country of Birth

Place of Birth (State, city, etc)

First Language

Cultures

Traditions

Schooling:

Highest Education

Degrees

Home-schooled/public school/private school

Favorite subject

Favorite teacher

Least favorite subject

Least favorite teacher

Average grade

Study habits

Special education

Graduating year

Work:

Occupation

Salary

Employment history

Work space

Mode of Transportation

Total income

Boss

Hours

Experience

Co-worker relationships

Rank

Work ethic

Home:

Rent or Own

House, apartment, etc

Mode of transportation

Living space

Address

Hometown

Inner Workings Of Your Character:

Secrets

Fears

Worries

Eating Habits

Food preferences

Sleep preferences

Work preferences

Book preferences

Music preferences

Introverted/extroverted

Optimist/pessimist

Hobbies

Pet peeves

Prejudices

Proud of

Biggest vulnerability

Embarrassed by

Worst memory

Best memory

Earliest memory

Fondest memory

Skilled at

Unskilled at

Attitude

Obsessions

Stresses

Addictions

Handicaps (physical)

Handicaps (emotional/psychological)

Allergies

Medical history

Temperament

Attitude

Perception and outlook on life

Desires

Regrets

Soft spots

Habits:

Verbal quirks

Physical quirks

Gestures

Work habits

Sleeping habits

Annoying habits

Irrational habits

Eating habits

Healthy habits

Unhealthy habits

Mannerisms

Drinking habits

Vices

Objects Kept In - And Why:

Their closet

Their bedroom

Their purse/bag

Their fridge

Their car

Their desk

Their pockets

Their junk drawer

Their glove compartment

Their backpack

Their locker

Their car trunk

Their wallet

Their suitcase

Favorites:

Favorite book

Favorite movie

Favorite hobby

Favorite animal

Favorite color

Favorite season

Favorite food

Favorite drink

Favorite time of day

Favorite song

Favorite music genre

Favorite memory

Favorite band

Favorite words

Favorite subject

Favorite number

Favorite TV-show

Favorite place

Least Favorite:

Least favorite book

Least favorite movie

Least favorite hobby

Least favorite animal

Least favorite color

Least favorite season

Least favorite food

Least favorite drink

Least favorite time of day

Least favorite song

Least favorite music genre

Least favorite memory

Least favorite band

Least favorite words

Least favorite subject

Least favorite number

Least favorite TV-show

Least favorite place

Other:

Talents

Political preference

Strengths

Flaws

Prized possessions

Special/favorite memories

Time and date of birth

What they love

What they hate

Social class

Sports/clubs

Blood type

Posture

Speech impediments

Spending habits

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rtbamapride98

8 years ago

Waking A Sleeping Jared: A Tough Job, But Someone’s Gotta Do It (Jibcon 8)

Waking a sleeping Jared: a tough job, but someone’s gotta do it (Jibcon 8)

BONUS:

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rtbamapride98

7 years ago

The Losers Club as Buzzfeed Unsolved Quotes

Mike: Yeah, I just kinda looked into places that would make me want to die and I think this checks that box.

Bill: It's a g-g-g-g-ghost butt!

Beverly: Hey, you demon fuck!

Ben: Hello spirits! We're here with good vibes. We ask you to let us film you and put you on Youtube

Eddie: No-one can see the top of your head except God

Stan: I don't want to be a ghost-hunter! This is all-bullshit!

Richie: DO YOU HEAR HOW COCKY I AM? WOULDN'T YOU LIKE ME TO JUST SHUT THE HELL UP?

bonus:

the adults of Derry: I'll tell you what. I love when serial killers have a fun little thing.

Georgie: I'm gonna haunt you... I'm gonna make creaks!

Pennywise: Hmmhmmhmm! The Devil, his Satanic Majesty! Hmmhmmhmm, That'll get them! Time to go murder again!

41 notes View Post

rtbamapride98

8 years ago

(credits of Gif given where credit due. We just found them searching on Google)

That moment Jax Teller decides to man up and tell his best friend he loves her.

It’s always been her…Part 1

I study the woman who’s come to mean everything to me and try to unglue my tongue from the roof of my mouth. I’m good at sweet talking people into things. It comes naturally with the Teller charm, but this is entirely different.

I’m not conning or persuading some girl I could give two shits about; I’m opening up to my best friend. If I fuck this up, I’m going to ruin one of the longest friendships I’ve had.

“What?” She tilts her head and studies my face trying to read me.

Unable to find the right words, or hold back my emotions, I rush forward and cup her face, pressing our lips together. She gasps, and breathes my name. I love the sound. I take advantage of the opening and slip my tongue inside her mouth. She’s spun sugar melting on my tongue. I move my head, trying to get a better sample.

Her tongue brushes against mine, and we’re a flurry of movement as I lift her into my arms, and she winds her lithe limbs around me. She’s so strong, yet soft and feminine at the same time. Her scent is spiced citrus. I press her into the wall of my house.

She rolls her hips and I can’t hold back my moan. This is the way we were always meant to be. I never want to let her go. I pull back and study her flushed face, struck dumb. This is more than lust or attraction; it’s forever. I’ve spent so long chasing that high you get in a relationship only to discover it was waiting for me to see.

“What?” She pants.

“It’s always been you.”

“Jax,” she shakes her head. “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it. I couldn’t take it.”

I shake my head and cup her face. “All this time I’ve been wasting looking when there was never anything better.”

“What are you saying, Jax?” She’s going to make me spell it out. I smirk. It’s typical her, calling me out and forcing me to communicate.

“I’m sorry I kept us apart for so long, darling,” I say finally able to see what others did. This is why my mom’s been pushing us together for so long.

“If this is pretty words to get into my pants, save it. I’m not one of your crows—

“No, you’re not. I wasn’t ready until now, and that’s on me. It took me longer to grow up then it did you. But now I’m here, and this is happening. We are happening.”

Silence lasts a heartbeat. “We are?”

“Yes, babe.” I squeeze her hips. “You okay with that?”

She grins and nods her head, sending her silken locks dancing around her slender heart-shaped face.

“Hell yeah.”

She buries her fingers in my hair and pulls me to her. I pull her to me and cup her ass, rubbing her up and down the length of my cock. We haven’t even taken our clothes off, and I’m ready to explode in my pants. I walk us backward toward my room. Our mouths never stop devouring. I fall back onto the bed with her on my chest. She grinds into me, and I grasp her sweet hips.

My phone rings, and she groans.

“Fuck.”

She rolls off me. “Go ahead and answer it.”

“Hello,” I bark.

“Need you at the club house, brother,” Opie says.

“I’ll be there.”

I hang up and let my head fall onto the bed. “We’re continuing this tonight.”

“I’ll be here, ready and waiting,” She promises.

(If you like this imagine come and check out the story we have going for this world. http://archiveofourown.org/works/7507252/chapters/17065762 and let us know what you think in the comments! Comment fuel our writing fuel!)

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rtbamapride98

1 year ago

Vampires when they sip on your blood and catch extra strength Tylenol, at least two psychiatric meds, two cups of coffee, weed, and microplastics

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rtbamapride98

8 years ago

The Teller brothers, Thomas wanted out, while Abel wanted in.

The Homecoming I, II and III.

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rtbamapride98

6 years ago

Reblog if you think Bucky deserved his own movie

I swear if anyone says Captain America, The Winter Solider was his own movie I’m gonna flip.

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rtbamapride98

6 years ago

First kiss ft. Vilkas, Teldryn Sero, Brynjolf, Gwilin

A/N: Guess who’s back? (but for how long?)

Requested: Yes

–

Vilkas:

It had been a long trek back - but a rewarding one – finding the merry revelers as they wandered the land with their packs full of mead, happy to share in their revelry when the ‘grand companion’ passed by. He’d nursed the bottle right the way to Jorrvaskr, his smile fading as he witnessed his harbinger hunched uncomfortably over the table, elbow propped up on the wood with thumb and finger pinched at the top of their nose. They huffed resignedly, slamming down her charcoal to the point it shattered and rolled back into the hearth.

He pulled out a seat beside them, barely finishing his inquiry as to what troubles were plaguing them before the pile of parchment was slid in his direction.

Contracts, summons, missives… inheritance… their toll weighed heavy. Then his eyes trailed to the higher pile, the completed pile, and the two empty ink pots beside it.

“Perhaps I could be of assistance.” They shook their head wearily.

“You’ve only just returned Vilkas, I couldn’t ask it of you. Go, get your rest.”

“And what of your rest. If we finish these together, we’ll both get what we want.”

There was no further argument when he fixed them with a glare, their mouth slamming shut as he began his work.

He took the contracts, signing them off with a flick of his wrist, and the personal papers were left aside, another night in the privacy of the dragonborns quarters would be for them.

An hour and a half later, they were done, and the completion of the job was about as satisfying as the cracks they received from their backs.

“Thank you Vilkas, I do believe drinks are on me when Hulda allows back in the mare.” It was fleeting, innocent, but it set his heart pounding. Their hand squoze his shoulder, and then their lips were pressed against his cheek, the sensation lingering long after their footsteps had disappeared.

Teldryn Sero:

The ash had whipped up dramatically, sending the duo to seek shelter. The cave was a mere crack in the mountainside, cold, damp, and dark – til Teldryns palm fluttered alight with arcane flame. What little kindling they could find was thrown to the flame, the fire growing till it was enough to light the small cavern and warm their freezing fingertips.

They pressed together – side by side beneath a threadbare blanket, holier than a priest of Arkay. With a bottle of Sujamma between them, they made the best of the situation, laughing until they were wheezing at one another’s tales. He’d long shed the cowl - for it did nothing but inhibit his ability to drink - but his mask remained. Through glossy, beady eyes he gazed at his companion, their flushed cheeks, gleaming grin, and sparkling eyes as they – yet again – told him the story of the tiny jester and his broken wagon. He’d heard it numerous times before, but he drank up every word, if for no other reason than to hear their jovial laughter.

He passed the bottle, barely a mouthful left, but still, they threw it back, the blanket slipping from their shoulder in the process.

“You know…” They whispered, eyes lidded as they glossed over his mask “This is technically an indirect kiss.” They giggled, covering their mouth light a child. He grinned back, leaning to fix the blanket at their shoulder.

“Then perhaps we should kiss properly. There’s no drink left after all.” He hadn’t meant for his voice to purr in such a way – though when they leaned into him without a second thought, he didn’t complain.

Brynjolf:

“Mind if I join you?” He took his seat with the nod of their head, placing his tankard down and fingering the rim. Despite all that had occurred, it seemed neither could summon the courage to address their current predicament. Desperately, he threw shy, fleeting glances, coughing, fidgeting – pitiful attempts to gain their attention. His mishap still pounded in his head.

They’d barely made it out the ruin, bruised, battered, and soaked to the bone. Mercer had taken his toll on all of them, but none more so than the dragonborn. Brynjolf could see it – the way they stood, all hunched, swaying ever so slightly. They were drained, and seemingly invisible to Karliah as she prattled on about Nocturnal and the task his friend was set to complete.

He’d caught them when they’d fell, legs giving way to the fatigue that flooded their limbs. He held them, their face pressed against his shoulder, and reflected on all he’d put them through. From a quick pick on the streets of Riften to slaying their own guild master in a Falmer infested dwarven ruin. And what had he done to help?

His hands stilled them as they heaved themselves back up, face steeled and tired as they looked to him for – something. So he leaned in, brash and uncalculated as he pressed his lips against theirs.

He’d forgotten the Nightingale armour was akin to a second skin.

They chuckled from across the table, grinning as he flushed across his cheeks and down his neck. He’d never been so embarrassed. His hands held his face, a groan rattling through his throat as their chuckles silenced, teeth at their lip to hold in what hadn’t escaped.

A gentle touch at his wrists and his hands were being withdrawn, placed upon the table with theirs atop his own. His breath hitched as they leaned towards him, smirk shrinking til their lips puckered and pressed against his own, unobstructed.

Gwilin:

“Excellent day for a swim” his voice was honey on the wind, an irresistible treat that had the dragonborn turning from their task in an instant. His shadow covered them, granting them the ability to gaze upon his smiling face, eyes crinkled at the corners, as he peered over the bridge at them.

“Perhaps you should join me them.” They’d been serious, but the jovial chime of his laughter proved the man was still all too innocent of their affections.

Once again, the sun shone in their eyes, and the crunching of fallen leaves that grew closer proved he’d abandoned his previous spot. They joined him at the bank, his eyes darting away and a dusky brown coating his cheeks. They were soaked to the bone, dressed in nothing but their underthing’s – and the medallion that hung from their wrist.

“I do believe this situation is a tad inappropriate” He mused

“Have to live life in the moment though don’t you?” It was a motto of sorts, one they turned on him regularly – an excuse to drink, to fight, to love – all to see his nose twitch in mild discomfort. They weren’t wrong.

“True, but yours are turning to bad habits.” He mumbled, allowing their laughter to ring in his ears and deepen his flush.

Temba’s voice shocked them both – a summon almost as powerful as the greybeards. He looked towards to mill, considering what trouble a moments delay could cause him – the dragonborn didn’t visit Ivarstead often.

With a deep sigh, he turned to say his farewells, only to have their touch behind his neck, and their lips upon his own.

“I do hope that becomes a habit.”

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rtbamapride98

8 years ago

Travis Fimmel and Ben Foster on Today

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