Summertime Sadness .7.

summertime sadness .7.

night moves

Sequel to kiss me in the d-a-r-k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 (masterlist under construction)

Warnings: non con sex (oral, intercourse) WARNING LOKI CHAPTER. 

This is dark!(dad)Steve and dark(professor!)Bucky and dark!Loki and explicit. 18+ only. 

Summary: Loki takes what he wants.

Note: Well, despite everything I finished this yesterday before the flood of dismay. That being said, this series has an arc and we will follow our course. Next chapter, back to other characters. And a final warning that this chapternis rough. REALLLY rough so please proceed with caution. Thank you!💋

<3 Let me know what you think in a reblog, reply, or like. I’m loving the feedback from y'all and the enthusiasm! Also as always, memes accepted.

💋💋💋

The walk-up was just as refined as its resident. Loki’s arm was around your waist as he led you up the steps of the upscale townhouse. It wasn’t as endearing as Steve’s suburban mansion or as cozy as Bucky’s urban loft. It was as cold and unwelcoming as the man who lived there. 

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Monster Under The Bed Boyfriend - Nybras (NSFW)

This train takes too long, you feel. Tired after work you want only one thing - to come home, eat dinner, change into something comfy, jump between the sheets and let your boyfriend make you forget everything else. Your monster boyfriend, that lives in the shadows under your bed.

You have to smile when you remember meeting him. You moved into a new house and one of the rooms already had a bed in it. An old, massive antique, carved from walnut. You fell in love with it on the spot. After the move was finally over and you were done with decorating the house, it took a couple of weeks for you to notice you were not alone. At first, it was the little things, like noises coming from upstairs, or finding a door open after you were sure you closed it just a few minutes ago. Things were going missing and you kept finding them different places. At first you thought your memory was just that bed, that you kept forgetting where you put things, but the noises were a different story. Steps, the sound of closing doors, and sometimes breathing. You were never afraid of ghosts, and up until now, it didn’t seem to be hostile, so you continued to ignore everything that was happening. You also thought that ghosts didn’t care about humans and what they did, so you continued to walk around the house half naked, and sometimes when you wanted to let some steam off and masturbated in your bed, moaning loudly. But sometimes you could swear that when you reached your climax, you heard a growl from under the bed and felt it vibrate a little, but it could’ve been just the blood roaring in your ears, and your muscles spasming, so you brushed it off.

Until you saw him. 

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Party Crasher [Headless Horseman/Reader]

Summary: AU Special!: With the town of Moorwick in the thick of its preparations for the holiday parade and unmasking the fake headless horseman, you briefly forget your commitments tot he true horseman waiting for you in the forest. It’s inevitable that this parade will go on record as the most memorable yet.

a/n: please make sure to read footnotes on this for back story and more info! 

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There wasn’t a soul in the eccentric town of Moorwick who knew of your secret. It dwelled there in the darkness amid the thicket and ancient, gnarled trees where no one dared to venture and where no light from town reached. You disguised your furtive, knowing smiles behind a hand, a mug, another smile that barely breached your facade. 

You could only assume that those who knew you best chose not to ask, while others who kind-of knew you weren’t sure what to ask. Undoubtedly, the air about you had changed from a year ago where you barreled into town with the ferocity and ardor of a stranger, a person who would not be derailed from their mission.

Now you were more subdued, but only a little. Moorwick had taught you that not all things needed to be spoken, yet everything that didn’t matter would be discussed first. So you instead talked about Sherriff Decatur, his lackeys, and ridiculous taste in cheap coffee; you prattled on for hours with Nellie in her shop about Nigel’s lunacy and impetuous choice in daily price changes for orange juice and beef jerky.

Weekly dinners with Asta Lang and Winston, the adoring couple of over seventy years, always set your heart aflutter and brimmed it with warmth at their stories from youth. Had it not been for Asta’s letter prompting your subsequent visit to Moorwick, you would have never known your best-kept secret.

Your secret was lost to the unforgiving movement of time, unaware of how the world around him had changed as centuries passed. And yet, the world knew of him and who he was. Moorwick had nurseries for children beginning to explore what existed beyond their front doorsteps; a man aboard an alabaster steed, cloaked in red without a head.

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HELLO i had a thought and needed someone to hear it and figured you might be a good recipient. ahem. At a press conference, or other event wherein everyone can hear him, bucky stands up and every joint in his body cracks in succession. the guy sounds like someone stepped on a bag of fritos. basically i headcanon that bucky is the crunchiest marvel character and felt the need to tell you about it

oK this made me CHORTLE so ugly. I wrote a dumb drabble of it.

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Your head is pressed against the smooth wood grain of the conference room table. Some terribly old tree a sadist lobbed off and carved down to decorate the desolate meeting space. Not much else in here but it, ten rolling chairs, and a projector that hums too loudly.

Tony is going off again about your inability to take anything seriously. Hah. That’s rich coming from him.

“I’m hungry.” You whine, “I can’t think on an empty stomach.”

A collective sigh from each team member and you flick them all off.

“You just ate!” Steve is accusatory.

“Shut up, you enormous human-shaped Dorito. Corn-chip lookin’ ass…” Insults muffle themselves out on the surface, your warm breath fogging the plane, “Cool ranch lookin’– crunchy-ass… blue-bagged… bitch.”

A silence passes as everyone else stares on, waiting for it to end. Bucky groans to your right, sighs noisily, and thumps you on the back with his vibranium hand. You cough because your spine is probably crushed.

“Great meeting. This was an incredible waste of my time.”

He kicks the chair backwards and hops to his feet. There’s a deafening crackle of something that pulls your attention sideways, the first time your head’s been up in about twenty-five minutes. You’re elated.

“You got snacks?”

“What?”

“You got chips? You crunched like a bag of Lays.”

Sam snickers to your left. Then he wheezes and flops over, guffaws following rapidly. “A- A- A bag of L-Lays!” He cries, “Naw, girl. Those’re his joints. The boy is ancient.”

Bucky burns bright red head-to-toe under your scrutiny as you turn from him to Steve. With a shrug, you place your head back down. “Steve, your days of being called a Dorito are over.” A lazy finger jabs itself over your shoulder at the new object of your ire.

“New Dorito. Nacho Cheese Flavored. Stale, maybe.”

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Bag of Tricks Masterlist

Cut Up

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Turns out, having a kid comes with a few heart attacks.

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: None! Just floof. Maybe some spice at the end.

A/N: I’ve had this in my head for a week now, blame @heli0s-writes​ and her Bag of Tricks universe. But also thank her for reading this over for me and maximizing its chaoticness; you’re a gem, bb. This is pretty silly, which apparently is my new favorite way of writing Steve. It’s also very short. But there’s a bunch of fluff so it makes up for that. Let me know what you think, and enjoy! :) x

Masterlist link in bio or search #gigi writes on my blog!

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The house is quiet.

Too quiet.

It would be fine if it were only Steve in the house, or you. The fact that it’s eleven-thirty in the morning and there’s a five-year-old having playtime in his room is what sets Steve on edge.

He gives it all of three minutes before his super-soldier-dad senses are tingling. Something’s wrong. Something is very, very wrong.

Steve’s mind goes through all the probable scenarios as to what happened before he decides the most logical explanation for why he’s not hearing his son scream up a storm is that aliens came back to Earth and targeted his kid. Naturally.

The reality of the situation is much more horrifying.

“Dada, look!”

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In a Sleepy Town [Headless Horseman x Reader] [MASTERPOST]

This is going to be the main post I use to navigate people to in regards to chapters and information on the story and such. While I would appreciate liking and reblogging the post; I would sincerely appreciate it if you would like and reblog the actual chapters as well!!

The notes shouldn’t matter, but they do. I am continuing this story based on response that I receive from it.

I’ll be adding more content over time.

Chapters:

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR 

CHAPTER FIVE 

CHAPTER SIX [coming soon

Non-canonical/Side-stories:

PARTY-CRASHER [oneshot][non-canonical]

Asks in regards to the story (generally non-spoiler asks that I’ll answer about the characters, town, plot, and everything else):

What Moorwick looks like

Dumb stuff I’ve found:

Went to Ross for cups, found this