I wanna write a fic about a comedian!reader just making jokes at the expense of Cap and she gets some good burns in and the reader doesn’t realise that he’s there with Sam or Bucky in the back and he’s just fuming. And then when her set is over, he confronts her either by following her home or just in the dressing room 🤤 also this is totally free for anyone willing to write it btw, I never see comedian!reader fics.
Summary: Your jokes land you in some hot water with their subject–Captain America. Turns out, America’s golden boy’s a bit of a bully–and you kind of like it.
Warnings: Mean Steve, Sub!Reader, Smut, Light BDSM, Semi-public sex, MINORS DNI
A/N: omg i wasn’t expecting all of this to come from the relatively short idea i had in my head, but uh. things happen lol. i hope you all enjoy! divider by @firefly-graphics!
“Capscicle is definitely the right way to describe him,” you say conspiratorially, like you’re whispering to the audience through the microphone. They laugh, of course. They’re eating it up, the audience erupting into low laughter right on cue. Even that is appropriate, it’s not the big laugh, the one that’s meant to buy you time to take a drink of water, maybe a few breaths between jokes if you’re lucky.
“They defrosted that guy what, like five, six years ago now, right?”
You were once an adventurer but when was turned to stone. Your party tried to save you but it was too late, so they place you in the center of a town they founded, now years later an army marches onto that town and with every once of willpower you try to move…and with groan you take a step.
In the first year, you cried when it rained. You stood with your sword in the air and the pedestal at your feet and nature poured tears down your cold marble cheeks.
Summary: A night out leads to you confessing your feelings for Viktor and something sparks between you
Warnings: none, just a whole lot of fluff!
Word Count: 3.2k
Note: I’ve missed writing for my soft boi! I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!
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It was truly by accident that you happened to meet Viktor Drago the night that you did.
One of your friends was babbling on about a boxing match she had tickets to that were gonna go to waste because someone had bailed and you were just about to say that boxing wasn’t really your thing when something compelled you to just roll with it and go.
Carl walked into your shared kitchen, nose following the smell that arose with the cooking of a Wednesday’s breakfast. He couldn’t help but smirk at the image in front of him, leaning against the door frame as if examining your image.
You were cooking his favourite, the typical bacon and eggs, but that wasn’t even the thing that was enticing him. It was the way that his Metallica T-shirt barely skimmed the bottom of your ass. It was the way that he kept almost capturing a glimpse of the lacy underwear adorning your body. It was the way that your hair was messily tied so high that he could see the purple blotches on your neck, reminiscing the night before. It was just a sight for sore eyes.
He looked at the clock above the stove, noting the twenty minutes he had until he was forced to leave for another shift in the dangers of downtown Chicago.
You had failed to notice his presence until two arms wrapped around your waist, lips planting over the previous decoration on your skin, and hips pushed into your own. You turned your head to kiss him with a smile, a gentle hum of “morning baby” emitting from his lips.
“You’re breakfast is almost ready.” You informed him, watching the bacon crackle continuously in the grill. He groaned, lips trailing up your neck and to your collar bone. “I think I’d prefer breakfast in bed.” You knew what he meant, but continued to cook - ignoring his blatantly horny suggestion.
“(Y/n),” He groaned at your ignorance, grinding his hips further into your own. “Carl,” You replied in a sarcastically sadistic tone, similar to his own. “You have to get going in ten minutes.” You told him, almost being able to see his eye role.
You were suddenly spun with a small yelp, being lifted up and placed on the counter-top a distance from the heated food. “What? You don’t think I can make you cum in ten minutes?” His lips ghosted your neck, hands trailing down your frame. A sudden Burt of confidence radiates through you, the words leaving your mouth before you can stop them. “No, I don’t.” The lust-filled irises of a chocolate brown darkened dramatically, a dangerous stop brewing behind the seclusion of his eyes.
“Dangerous game your playing, baby.” He told you, eyes connecting with yours. “Guess we gotta finish it then.” Carl’s lips crashed hungrily into your own, not allowing breaks for oxygen, too desperate by the lack of time. He turned and picked you up with him, your legs automatically circling around his waist until your back was rested against the kitchen table.
Your breath quickened, little kisses being left down your body as he neared your underwear. He lifted the shirt up, examining the barriers keeping him from a good breakfast. The black fabric created an enticing pattern leading down to his well-deserved meal. Almost ripping them, your underwear found the floor, and your thighs found his shoulders.
“You’re fucking dripping.” His voice laced with a teasing venom, a smirk returning to his mouth when he heard your desperate wines. “What’s that? You don’t wanna cum?” He asked, your complaints heightening with noice. You reached your fingers down to his hear, desperately tugging for some sort of relief from his part. He harshly pushed your hands away, a warning glare sent to you from his place on his knees on the floor. “Watch your hands, I will handcuff you to this fucking table, Princess.” He said, a submissive agreement leaving your lips.
“Carl please,” His pushed his thumb roughly against your clit, enjoying the noises leaving your mouth at the sudden contact, small circles being drawn between your legs. “What was that, baby?” “For fucks sake! Please! Please Carl, I need you.” That was enough for him, licking a long, lengthened lick up your pleading cunt. “So much better than eggs and bacon.” He joked, but you couldn’t laugh a long with him, attempting to find some closure for your clouded mind.
His tongue suddenly, delved into your velvet walls, satisfied hums leaving his lips - sending shockwaves of vibrations through your core and straight to your head. “God, Carl.” Your moans were like angel’s whispered, enchanting music playing directly into his ears. He carried on licking and sucking, kissing the most sensitive of areas to heighten the arousal pumping through your veins.
Your legs tensed and he knew your orgasm was near, adding two fingers into your sex for good measure, time control completely discarded. “Come on darling, that’s it, cum for me.” His dominating tone slowly exiting as a soft encouragement edged you to an inevitable defeat to his claim.
The cries ripples through you, stimulation bursting at the seams as the knot in your lower stomach snapped and was lapped up by the delicious licks of his unforgiving tongue. He wiped his lips as he stood, tastebuds already complaining at the loss of the most delicious, the most dangerous, the most luxurious of meals.
The scene in front of him was a sight for sore eyes, the clock in the corner calling his name as if in a trance. Yet he couldn’t look away, only watching you fighting for hushed breaths, eyes closed, and legs trembling as they limply rested against the table.
Your eyes slowly opened, watching Carl look you over carefully, as if studying the most precious of artefacts. His hands gently took yours, pulling you up into the sensuality of a loving embrace. “You okay?” You hummed in agreement, allowing him to lift your chin to peck your lips gently.
“Only took me eight minutes.” You giggled, not caring, and simply letting him gain victory. He picked your underwear up off of the floor, and stuffed them in his back pocket, chuckling at the deathly glare you gave him. You stayed on the table and simply watched him shimmy on the police-coat with was previously rested on the chair.
He walked back over, hands on your hips, and kissed you ever so carefully. “I love you.” He spoke, voice barely above a whisper as his forehead momentarily leant against yours. “I love you too.” He smiled down softly at you, taking a step back to secure his belt and hat.
“Thank you for breakfast baby,” He grinned, looking up at the clock, and you just ‘mhmed’ in a teasingly annoyed tone. “See you at five.” And with that, the door clicked behind him - and you just sat and listened to him drive away. Your consciousness slowly seeped back, and only now did you realise the smoke alarm loudly bleating an iterating warning in your ear - all the food was burnt. You groaned and ran your hands over your face, offering a minute to rub your tired eyes, before hopping onto two unstable legs turning the oven off completely.
An immortal warrior with centuries of combat experience settles down to run an orphanage. Slave traders kidnap some of the children…big mistake.
It had been your dream, those many centuries ago, to open an orphanage to take care of the small ones without anyone else. You knew personally what it was like to be a kid growing up in the streets. By the gods, it still left it’s mark on you now. But after the good fight was done, done with the world-ending fights anyways, you found that your tale had become little more than a song, a legend, nothing more than a fairy tale, and your history faded into the shadows.
This was a fine outcome. Preferably, even. No one came bothering you at every little tragedy like they used to. It was peaceful. And then that old dream of yours came to fruition.
Me seeing this for the 14th time in my 5 years on tumblr and seeing more notes and comments but still reblogging it since it’s literally a World Heritage Post
A man on his retirement, purchased a house situated near a high school. He spent the first few weeks of his retirement in peace, then the new school year began. One afternoon early into the first semester, three young boys came down the street, beating merrily on every bin they passed.
They did this the following day and the day’s after that, for a week, until the man decided it was time to take some action.
The next afternoon, he walked out to meet the boys as they banged their way down the street.
Stopping them, he said, “You kids are a lot of fun. In fact, I used to do the same thing when I was your age. Would you do me a favor? I would give you each a dollar, if you promise to come around and do your thing.”
The boys were more than happy to accept this and continued to bang the bins.
After a few days, the man came out to meet them with a sad smile, and said, “This recession really is putting a dent in my income. From now on, I will pay you each 50 cents to continue.”
The boys were unimpressed by this, but continued to do the same afternoon activities.
A few days later, the man approached them again and said, “Look, the recession has again reduced my income, so from now on, I am afraid I can only pay you 25 cents each.”
The leader then exclaims angrily, “That’s it? If you really think we are going to waste our time banging the bins for 25 cents each, you must be a fool. No way that’s going to happen. We quit.”
The man then enjoyed peace and serenity for the rest of his days.
