#...at least they had a nice dream before you know...

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @corrodedcoffinfest Good Fortune pop-up event.

Hawkins, Indiana: Birthplace of Corroded Coffin

Prompt: Fortune #7 - A single kind word can keep one warm for years, Mouth & Thirteen | Word Count: 2025 | Rating: E | CW: Explicit Sexual Content, Alcohol Use | POV: Eddie | Relationship(s): Steddie | Tags: Famous Corroded Coffin, Future Fic, Reconnecting, Old Friends to Lovers, Eddie & Gareth are Best Friends

The lights are bright and the crowd is loud, and he's just a little bit buzzed from the shots before they took the stage, but Eddie is absolutely certain that three rows back, dead center, is Steve Harrington. There's no way it isn't him. Even older, even if Eddie hasn't seen him in years, it's him. It helps that he's standing next to Henderson, for the love of god, and a whole slew of other familiar faces that Eddie mostly hasn't seen in years.

He's sure he's not seeing ghosts. Just old friends that have traveled from all over just to see them here together tonight. 

And that's all Eddie can think about during the whole show. He tries to shake it off, tries to act like it's completely normal to have that many familiar faces in the crowd watching them perform, but it's not. In fact, it had never even crossed his mind when they landed in Indianapolis that this would somehow be a hometown show.

Eddie didn't invite anyone, didn't draw attention to it, because they don't claim Indiana. It's not home, not anymore. Hawkins told them to fuck off, and they've decided to say it right back. Hawkins can't stake a claim on them now. If they didn't want them around back then, if the majority of the town would have preferred to see Eddie dead, well, fuck them. They don't deserve to have them now that they've made a name for themselves.

Maybe that's petty. But Eddie stands by it.

He'll never set foot in that town again. Not for anything, or anyone.

Wayne understood, and washed his hands of Hawkins, too.

So, they kind of avoid Indiana in general, and aren't exactly in contact with the majority of Hawkins these days. 

Sure, Henderson and the other sheepies have made shows here and there all over the country, but going home? To that hell hole? Absolutely not. 

But seeing them all in the crowd, together again, just to see him? Fuck. It does something to Eddie that he can't explain.

After the show, Steve picks Eddie up and hugs him, cracking his back in the process.

Eddie laughs.

Nobody treats Eddie like this anymore, except for Wayne and the other guys in the band, so it's a nice change of pace to know that Steve still sees him as Eddie. Not Eddie Munson, business commodity. 

"How are you man? How's the high life?" Steve asks, and Eddie tosses his head back, laughing. Steve hasn't changed. He's a little dorky, and a lot good dude. 

"Good," Eddie says with a smile, "I'm good. How're you?"

"Good, good. I'm good."

"Still in Hawkins?" Eddie asks, and Steve nods.

Eddie doesn't see how Steve can do it, but of course they didn't try to hang Steve in the town square. Deemed guilty by the court of public opinion before the blood he didn't spill had even dried.

This is Steve Harrington, Eddie's sure he's an upstanding member of society.

"Want to get a drink?" Eddie asks, because he can't in good conscience let Steve disappear that easily. If Steve came all this way, Eddie at least needs to keep him a little bit longer.

Two drinks turn into wandering hands, and when Steve corners him in the hallway of the hotel bar back by the bathroom, Eddie leans into it. Presses against Steve, straddling Steve's thigh, grinding against him. 

"Fuck," Steve says, and that's definitely the idea, as far as Eddie's concerned. They try to keep their hands to themselves until they're in Eddie's hotel room, but then all bets are off, clearly.

Eddie couldn't have dreamed of this, even if he'd been making unattainable wishes.

It's fun, and familiar, even if it's not anything they've ever done together before. 

Eddie needed this. Needed to laugh, and fuck, to just unwind with someone he trusts with his life, not to mention his body.

Steve Harrington wanted to have sex with him, as familiar, old friends. Because, yeah, clearly they have some mutual attraction, but that's not unusual. Eddie's been attracted to lots of people over the years, and he's fucked more than he can count. Men, women. They don't mean anything, but tonight Steve crawled in his bed because he likes Eddie as a person, knows him, and trusts that they'll have fun together, not because he's famous. That's a gift. One Eddie hasn't gotten in a really long time.

Eddie rolls onto his back, and opens his thighs. 

"What do you need?" Steve asks, looking up at him with those warm eyes. And it is a need, not just a want. He's right about that.

Everything. He wants everything.

"Your mouth," he says, then, "your cock." He can't decide. 

Steve laughs, then says, "Deal," with a grin.

Eddie throws his arm over his eyes, and then realizes he doesn't want to miss this, he wants to see it all. And he knows that was a great decision, when Steve takes him into his mouth.

Holy shit. Steve Harrington, with his hair falling over his forehead, is sucking his dick, and goddamn well.

"Goddamn, Harrington," Eddie teases, and Steve pulls off just long enough to smile a smile that settles between Eddie's ribs and takes up residence.

Eddie hasn't done this in forever, but he melts into the sheets as Steve fucks his fingers in and out of his body. He's ready. He's so beyond ready for Steve to fuck him.

"Steve, now," Eddie says. 

And Steve nods, and Eddie watches as Steve rolls a condom down his impressive cock. Then he's lining up and pressing inside. A slow, steady slide. He's open, and oh so fucking ready. His cock is hard, laying against his belly, a sign of trust, of pleasure, that he doesn't take for granted.

Steve Harrington won't hurt him. Steve Harrington saved him once, and goddamn, he might be doing it again right now.

Eddie groans. It feels so good. He hasn't trusted anybody to do this for him in a long, long time. But he knows that Steve will take real good care of him. Steve always takes good care of everyone.

And tonight is no different. Steve builds a rhythm, finding all the right places in Eddie's body, in his heart, and when Eddie comes, he laughs. He's gonna chase this particular high for the rest of his life, guaranteed.

It's morning, and the plane leaves in an hour. Flying private does save time, but he's pushing it.

Steve leans over, dressed, ready to go, and kisses him goodbye.

"It was good to see you. Maybe don't wait another dozen years," Steve says, and then with a smile, he's gone.

Another month of shows, nothing out of the ordinary, but it's been so fucking rough. Eddie can't even explain why. Nothing has changed. They've been in the swing of touring for a very long time. But he suddenly feels like he's lost all his mojo. Like he's trying to force a square peg into a round hole.

He's frustrated. Musically, and sexually, if he's honest. Nobody is holding a candle to a night with Steve Harrington, and he wishes he was surprised by that.

"Go."

Eddie jerks his head up, "What?"

Gareth smiles, "You heard me. Go."

"Go where?" Eddie asks, fiddling with the strings of his guitar, just for something to do.

"Go home. To him," Gareth answers, and Eddie knew that's what he meant.

Eddie sits there for a moment longer, and Gareth shoots him a look, "Go." 

He goes.

Their chartered plane is tied up elsewhere, so it takes waiting in an airport for nearly a day, with flight after flight falling through. Holiday travel has the airports busy, and the weather is keeping flights delayed.

He's in a private lounge, so he's not being bothered by anybody, but it's making him nervous, and a little bit crazy. He wonders if he should hit one of the pay phones and call Steve, warn him that he's coming in.

He doesn't. He thinks, no matter how this goes, that Steve will be happy to see him if his reaction after the show is anything to go by.

But he's going home for the first time in over a decade, because he wants to see Steve. Needs to. Because what he felt that night, seeing him again, isn't something he's felt in a very long time.

Steve doesn't seem all that surprised to see him, but he welcomes him with open arms.

"I can't believe I'm back in this town," Eddie says. "How can such a shithole have you in it?"

Steve laughs.

"At least they took down the fucking sign declaring Hawkins the birthplace of Corroded Coffin. Like hell it is."

Steve smiles, a twinkle in his eye.

"Come with me," Steve says, and Eddie follows him out the back door and towards a little shed. He can't imagine what Steve needs to show him out here, but after Vecna, and all the shit that happened in the Upside Down, if Steve Harrington says jump, Eddie will only ask how high.

The shed has three padlocks, and Eddie is suddenly scared he's gonna be a headline. He doesn't really know Steve Harrington anymore. He could be a serial killer. 

He laughs to himself.

"It's not a serial killer shed," Steve says, as if he can read his mind.

"I didn't think that," Eddie says.

He totally thought that.

Steve unlocks the last padlock and swings open the door.

Eddie's stunned. 

There's at least a dozen road signs, all proclaiming Hawkins, Indiana: Birthplace of Corroded Coffin.

Eddie laughs, cackles, honestly.

"You didn't?" he asks, and Steve grins.

"I absolutely did. Every last one. They finally stopped putting them back up. They blamed the kids wanting them for souvenirs, not the middle school phys ed teacher stealing them because I knew how much you'd hate them."

Eddie loves him more than he's ever loved anyone, he's pretty sure. He can't believe Steve did this for them, he wasn't even in contact with any of them. 

"How did you know…?" Eddie trails off, not sure how to word it.

"That you'd hate it?" Steve asks.

And Eddie nods.

"You never came home, and for good reason. They didn't deserve to say you were theirs. You were always ours, though. We're really proud of you."

Eddie barrels into him, hugging him tight, "Thanks, Steve."

"It was nothing," he says, and then he grins, "Robin helped."

"Hell yeah, Buckley did."

Ten Years Later

"It was go," Eddie says in the interview chair that he's been in for hours. Press junkets are the fucking worst. 

"Go?" the interviewer asks.

Eddie nods, "You asked for the kindest word I've ever been told. Go."

"Do you want to elaborate?" she asks, trying to probe.

"Not really," he says, but offers a smile, and she returns it.

It's his secret. His and Gareth's, he supposes, but it changed the whole trajectory of his life. Warming up all the coldness that he hadn't even realized he was feeling until Steve Harrington waltzed back into his life.

Gareth told him to go, set him free, trusting that he'd return back to the band better than he left it.

He did.

With Steve, he's better. Happier. Their music has only gotten better with Eddie settled into his own skin, his own love. He has a home, even if god-fucking-forbid, it's in Hawkins, Indiana: Birthplace of Corroded Coffin.

Once word got out, they put up another sign.

Eddie stole it. The very last sign Hawkins ever tried to put up.

They arrested him, and he smiled for his mugshot.

Eventually the charges were dropped. They were far too embarrassed to actually try him for stealing his own sign, unwilling to put him on the stand to ask him why.

He'd love to tell him.

So, Hawkins has left him alone, and he's made peace that he may never forgive and forget, but Steve's whole life is here, and that means Eddie's gonna be here, too.

They let him keep the sign. It's in the shed with the other thirteen.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

Notes: I'm always such a sucker for Eddie making peace with Hawkins stories. They probably don't deserve it, but he does.

[buck-star]

I met them, and now I’m their princess

You met them, and now you’re more than just their good friend. You’re their princess, the bikers princess.

Pairing: Biker!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader x Biker!Steve Rogers

Wordcount: 1.631 Words

Warnings/Tags: tiny bit of angst, fluff, love confession, more fluff

Authors Note: HAPPY NEW YEAR! Hope you all had a nice start into the year and have a lot of happiness and whatever you wish this year! So here’s a little “Drabble” with our beloved Super soldiers for the start of the year. Divider made by me.

It’s a collaboration with @mercurial-chuckles. We thought it could be a cute idea to have a similar title and use the same prompt to start in the new year. Her work: I met them, and now I’m their queen.

Events: Stucky community prompt-list [Confession before the new year starts to get it off their chest], Marvel OC Hub [SB6010 | Row Three-One | Do you trust me? | @marvel-oc-hub], Stucky Bingo [N5 | Friends to lovers | @stuckybingo]

Masterlist | Stucky Masterlist

You're sitting on the sill of your window in your small apartment. Your eyes are searching the sky for the fireworks that light up the dark night. They follow every little sparkle until they disappear in the night sky, each one following a soft sigh that escapes your lips.

Your eyes are filled with longing — a longing for warmth and the love you feel whenever you're around two people. Two bikers to be exact. Unfortunately, those two people are happy with one another, while you're just their good friend.

If someone watches those big, muscular bikers looking at one another with that sweet, soft expression, affection written all over their face, they wouldn't believe those two are real. They look like the perfect gay couple out of a romance, maybe even the perfect movie.

You didn't mind any of it at all. They are sweet with you, friendly and polite like the perfect gentlemen. But at some point — where the sweetness warmed your heart more than it should, and their smile caused butterflies to go wild in your stomach — you feel slowly but deeply for these two bikers.

While others would admire them for their muscles, their perfect figure, or them just being bikers, for you, it's the soft smile that mostly matches the one they share with one another. Their ocean-blue eyes, which have that adorable sparkle in them when they are happy or excited — especially when they look at you. It's the way the sound of their rough, low voices sounds like honey when they talk to you and the softness and tenderness they always have around you. There is never a hint of fear or embarrassment, no matter what they do; as long as it's the three of you, there is only happiness and laughter being shared.

They even invited you to celebrate New Year’s Eve with them. While your heart was racing and you smiled brighter than ever, you told them you would be busy, trying to find an — any — excuse to not celebrate with them. As much as your heart was screaming at you to say yes, to spend the night with your favorite bikers, you just couldn't. Your mind told you not to, to not bother them while they share that evening with one another; you didn't want to disturb their special moment, and so you prefer when they have New Year's Eve just for themselves — that's at least what you try to tell yourself.

A sudden, loud noise makes you flinch, and your eyes focus on what's happening on the street outside your apartment. You blink. Once. Twice. Only when the two familiar bikes and the broad men on them are still there do you believe that this isn't a dream or any kind of hallucination. They are really there; Bucky and Steve are standing in front of your apartment, talking about something you don't understand while they park their bikes.

Bucky’s the first who takes off his helmet, shaking his head and causing his long, brown hair to fly in the cold wind of the night before they settle down perfectly. He’s always doing it, knowing how much you love when he does that, just as much as you love to run your fingers through his thick hair; it always makes your heart flutter.

Except you and Steve, there's no one who's allowed to touch Bucky's hair. He loves it too much and doesn't like it being a mess, but if you or Steve touch it, he doesn't care how he looks after. He would even laugh with his hair standing in all directions and him only looking hilarious; he would love that if it makes you happy.

Steve laughs softly, his blue eyes brighter when he watches his boyfriend and his little hair show. The blond-haired man runs his fingers through his short hair when he places his helmet on the bike and says something to Bucky once again. He then makes his way to your door; your eyes widen while you notice Steve walking in your direction and Bucky opening the bag he placed next to his bike on the ground.

You watch the scene through your window for a moment. Your eyes moving from Bucky to Steve and back to the brown-haired man. Before you see what Bucky pulls out of his bag, it knocks loudly at your door. You know it’s Steve, but you're too curious to see what Bucky has in his bag, so you remain where you are.

“I know you're there, princess,” Steve says, knocking once again. You huff softly but get up to open the door for Steve. The blond-haired man leans against the wall, a smirk plastered over his face, and he holds his hand out for you. “There you are. May we get your attention for a few minutes, princess? Trust me, you will love it.”

You nod, slightly confused about whatever they have planned. You thought they would celebrate it at their house together or maybe at the bar where they have their biker club meetings often. But it looks like they decided to celebrate in front of your apartment.

So you take your jacket from beside you and slide easily into your shoes before you take Steve's calloused hand. His soft smile is still on his face the whole time while his eyes roam over your body. “Thought you were busy. Busy watching the fireworks all alone from the window of your apartment?”

You blush softly, nodding your head. Bucky's low chuckle gets your attention when Steve nods toward him. It's like they had a bet on what you're planning to do when you said you would be busy. They know you too well, reading you like a book and knowing your overthinking well enough to know that you haven't planned anything but just didn't want to annoy them — which you never could.

Steve leads you further outside, stopping a few feet away from Bucky, who places some boxes on the ground, and you notice that those are fireworks. Bucky takes a few steps toward you, a wide grin on his face as he leans down to press his soft lips against your forehead. You immediately feel tingles in your stomach, and a shaky breath escapes your lips. Bucky chuckles low in his throat, almost purring when he notices it.

“Doll, I know— we know you said no to the invite, and you told us you're busy. But we—” Bucky says, interrupting himself for a moment. He looks at Steve, whose big hands are on your waist, pulling you tightly against his firm chest. Steve's strong arms wrap tightly around your waist. He lowers his head, his nose nudging against your neck. “We know you don't have plans, but… so we accept that you said no to the invite, but—”

“We couldn't start the new year knowing you would sit at home, all alone, longing for something you don't dare to ask for. And… we can’t start the new year without you around us, in our arms, princess,” Steve says, and your eyes widen slightly. Do they know? Did they find out about your feelings for them?

“We know about the feelings, babydoll. We know, and we... we waited for the perfect opportunity,” Bucky confesses. The confusion visible on your face. It feels like he can read your mind, but he can't, can he? Bucky walks back to the little boxes on the ground while Steve pulls you backwards. His lips trailing down your neck, he smirks against your skin when he notices the goosebumps he's causing.

After a moment, where Steve's closeness makes your heart race and your mind spin, you notice Bucky walking closer to the two of you again. He stays next to you, taking your smaller hand in his calloused one while he leans himself against Steve. The blond-haired lets one hand go and sneaks it around Bucky's waist, pulling him closer against the two of you. You're all looking at the sky, waiting for the fireworks to light up the dark night.

“We wanted to wait for this moment. Just before the fireworks will light up the night. We wanted to wait to make it special because you're the most precious and special thing to us. And we love you, princess,” Steve says, just when the fireworks start, your mouth drops open. Not just because of the amazing colors of the fireworks but also because of Steve's words.

“We are longing for you just like you do for us. We love you, not just like a friend. If you want, we would love to be with you. You, Stevie, and me,” Bucky mumbles and kisses your cheek softly. It's so familiar to you that you feel his soft lips against your skin, but it still makes you shiver slightly. You nod, a soft whimper escaping your lips when his lips keep lingering against your cheek and you can feel them turning upwards into that cute smile of his. You mumble a soft yes, agreeing to their idea to be their princess, to them being your bikers.

More fireworks light up the sky when you nod your head. Steve's strong arms pull you and Bucky tighter against him, and you can feel the warmth radiating off of them. Your eyes widen when you notice that there are hearts in different colors visible in the sky. They made personal fireworks just for that moment — they wanted it to be perfect, and they managed to make it perfect. Not just because of the fireworks but because you’re so close and being held so lovely by the two men you love more than anything. That was what you were looking for, the love you found in your favorite two bikers.

Taglist: @rogersbarber @loki-laufeyson68 @etherealdisneyvillainness @winterschildren8 @pono-pura-vida @kimmie113080 @sergeantbarnessdoll @sebastianstanisahotmf @mercurial-chuckles @holylulusworld @randomawesomeperson102 @looking1016 @multiversefanfics @kpopgirlbtssvt @iris-xoxo-juhu @fckedupandbeautiful @hisredheadedgoddess28 @casa-boiardi @blackhawkfanatic @mrsalexstan @thesarcasmqueen-22 @blackhawkfanatic @casa-boiardi @kandis-mom @armystay89 @blackhawkfanatic [You can add yourself here.]

[esmeefreckles]

Sweet dreams

+18 SMUT MINORS DNI

WARNINGS: G!P CARO. CONSENSUAL SOMNOPHILIA. BLOW JOBS. MOMMY KINK. VAGINAL SEX. CUM INSIDE.

You’re having the most pleasant dream when suddenly, something unknown wakes you up. You blink the sleep out of your eyes, noticing the clock on the nightstand blinking 3:33 in red. You roll your eyes and try to remember the last time you slept through the whole night. It’s been years at least. You’ve never been very good at sleeping. But the woman wrapped around you has helped. You furrow back into Caro’s arms which are spooning you, her body pressed against yours.

Ever since the two of you started dating, you have found yourself sleeping better. It was much easier to doze off when Caro was cuddling with you. And it was much easier to be tired enough to doze off after Caro fucked you so nicely in only the way she could. Tonight, however, Caro had been out late, playing a UWCL game, so this was the first time you’d seen her since the previous morning. You had eventually fallen into a restless sleep before she had gotten home. You snuggle tighter into her grip and close your eyes in an attempt to go back to sleep.

And that’s when you feel it.

The hard bulge rubbing ever so slightly up and down your ass. Caro’s cock. This must’ve been what had woken you up. Heat runs through you at the thought of your girlfriend having a naughty dream. You turn over in her arms, taking extra care to not disturb her. When you’re face-to-face with Caro, you can see her furrowed brow and sweaty skin, her hips grinding just a little against nothing.

“Baby girl,” Caro whispers, her hand clutching your shoulder in her sleep, and your mouth runs dry. 

She’s dreaming of you.

A smile stretches across your mouth. This is so much better than sleeping. Caro and you had experimented with somnophilia in the past, but it was usually you who woke up to find Caro’s tongue on your clit or her fingers or cock buried in your cunt. But the thought of you being the one to wake her up like that is delicious. You gently turn Caro onto her back and pull the sheet down. She’s wearing only an oversized Barca shirt, her favorite to sleep in. It’s ridden up in her movements and her long, hard cock is completely visible. The tip is flushed and leaking. It must be a good dream she’s having. You glance up just to make sure she’s still asleep before leaning down and running your tongue up her length.

Caro groans and you freeze. She mumbles something incoherently, turning her head to the other side. You lick a few more times, keeping a close eye on her, before taking the tip into your mouth and giving it a light suck.

“Yes, baby, so good,” Caro grunts, hips raising lightly. Her dick twitches in your mouth and you can taste her precum. You use one hand to stroke the bottom of cock her and open your mouth wide and sink further down, your tongue curling against her. Caro’s hand tangles in your hair and she’s starting to stir. You know you don’t have much longer before she’s awake. You slide back and forth enthusiastically on Caro’s cock, feeling her hand tighten. Her hips have started thrusting more and you swallow around her, hearing a loud moan.

“What… oh, shit,” Caro says, fully waking up. She looks down to meet your eyes and she takes in the sight of your pretty little mouth wrapped around her cock and she cums on your tongue with a breathy gasp, spurts of her coating the inside of your mouth. She watches with wide eyes as you swallow all of her.

“Were you having a good dream, mommy?” you ask innocently. You feel her cock twitch and you raise your eyebrow playfully.

“I was. Do you want me to tell you what it was about?”

“I mean, I have a few guesses,” you joke, nodding at her length. Caro smirks and pulls you up into a kiss, moaning at the taste of herself. She puts her hands around your hips and holds you so you’re straddling her. You can feel her warm cock against your wet underwear.

“We were at a restaurant,” Caro begins, and you lean in closer to hang onto every word. “And the waitress wouldn’t stop flirting with you. She was being relentless, giving you light touches on the shoulder and winking at you. But you thought she was just being nice. It was making Mommy so mad.” Caro begins to stroke your hips with her fingertips ever so slightly and you shift in her lap. “So I had no choice but to remind you who you belong to. When the hostess came over with the check, I bent you over the table and shoved my cock into you.”

You let out an involuntary gasp at the image.

“The look on her face was delectable. Everyone turned around to watch what a good slut you were being for me. I made you look at the waitress the entire time so she could see that you were already taken. It was so hot, baby. Claiming you in front of all those people.”

You’re dripping and you can feel Caro’s cock getting harder. She slides a hand into your underwear and smirks.

“I’m not the only one who thinks that’s hot. Do you like the thought of that?”

“Yes, mommy,” you say, starting to grind on her fingers. “Need you to remind me who I belong to.” Caro grins and sits up so she can sink her teeth into your neck. You gasp and tilt your head so she has better access. Caro leaves a few more marks before flipping you on your back on the bed. You squeal and she positions herself between your legs so she can rub herself against your covered pussy.

“Since you woke me up so nicely,” Caro says, trailing kisses over her bites. “I think it’s only fair that I give you a reward.” You nod eagerly and she reaches down to move your underwear to the side. She drags her dick up and down your slit, coating it with your juices. “You’re so wet, baby.”

“Only for you,” you choke out. Caro smiles into your neck as she slowly pushes herself in.

“Fuck, baby, you’re still so tight,” Caro groans. She gives you a second to adjust when she bottoms out and then starts thrusting. You whimper every time she hits the spot only she can find. It’s embarrassing how close you already are and you can feel her twitching inside you. Looks like neither of you will last long.

“Mommy,” you whine.

“I know, baby. I’m almost there, too. Want me to fill you up?” Your walls clench involuntarily and you moan. You think your favorite feeling in the world might be having your insides painted by her cum. “Yes, mommy!”

Caro picks up the speed and reaches a finger between you two to rub your clit. You raise your hips to match her thrusts and she grunts with the exertion.

“Gonna cum, baby, gonna cum in you,” Caro pants, and suddenly, you feel bursts of heat in your cunt. She keeps fucking you through her orgasm and you quickly follow suit, your pussy walls trying to milk every last drip from her. She stays buried in you for a few moments while the two of you breathe.

You can feel her cock slowly going limp and then she slides out. You gasp at the feeling of her cum dripping out of you and she holds your legs apart to watch. You reach down and spread your folds apart so she can get a better view.

“You’re so hot, baby. I love you so much,” Caro says appreciatively and kisses you before going to get a warm washcloth. She cleans your pussy, rubbing against your clit too many times to be considered accidental, and then climbs back in bed with you.

Caro wraps her body around yours like she does every night and presses another kiss to your forehead. “Sweet dreams, darling.”

You have no trouble falling asleep after that.

[traveler-at-heart]

Speak or die?

Summary: You have a crush on your poetry professor.

Professor Natasha Romanoff x F!R

Request by @jujuu23 :) Hope you like it

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting

On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;

    And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,

    And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;

And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor

            Shall be lifted—nevermore!

Professor Romanoff closes the book, the classroom silent as she walks to the front. Her raspy voice had a way of enchanting people, and it almost felt like she had cast a spell on everyone.

“Thoughts?” she asks, adjusting her glasses. Her beautiful features are framed by a couple of strands of fiery hair, the rest of it tied in a messy bun.

A couple of people lean back on their seats, nervous about being called to participate.

“What a weirdo” Barnes says, and some of your classmates laugh.

“Thank you, for that very insightful analysis, Mr. Barnes. Any other thoughts you’d like to share with the class?”

Before he can speak again and say something even more stupid, you jump in.

“It’s about madness, caused by grief. About his beloved, who he’ll never forget but is gone. It’s the same theme in Annabel Lee and Lenore. Though I think Annabel Lee is a lot less haunting… there’s a certain serene beauty to it.”

“Very good, Miss Y/L/N. And of course, we have the references to Pallas Athena. Not uncommon for Allan Poe to mention Greek mythology. Your next assignment will be to find and discuss examples of mythology and classical literature within his work”

As everyone leaves the room, you walk next to the professor’s desk.

“I’ve enjoyed your essay. Well, both of them” she says.

“Both?” you stop, looking confused.

“It’s very obvious your boyfriend is not writing his papers” she tries to keep her composure, but finds it irritating that someone as bright as you is with Barnes of all people.

“Oh, Bucky? Yeah, I might have helped him a bit… not my boyfriend, though”

You think it’s best to leave out the fact he enrolled in this class to meet pretty girls and act like he knows about poetry.

“Well, he should still do his own homework” Natasha says, this time with a kinder tone. “And nice work today”

“Thank you” you nod, smiling as you leave the classroom. 

You hope Professor Romanoff didn’t notice the way you were blushing at her praise. 

—

Natasha glances at her cozy living room one last time. It’s a crisp autumn night, and she could still cancel her plans and stay home with a good book and a glass of wine.

But she’d never hear the end of it, would she?

The woman takes a cab to the gallery downtown, hoping the evening ends early and she can at least read a chapter or two of her novel before bed.

As she enters the crowded space, Natasha feels the need to turn around and leave. Carol’s voice stops her.

“Fancy meeting you here”

“Yelena made me do it” the redhead explains, standing next to her colleague and friend.

“Well, she’s quite the artist. You should be proud of your sister” Carol says, looking around the room until she finds the younger woman. Natasha nods her thanks and walks to her sister, smiling.

“You made it!” Yelena, who was explainig her sculpture to a man, stops mid sentence and hugs Natasha. “I thought you’d find a way to stay home and avoid being out”

“I promised I’d be here. Go. I’ll have a look around” Natasha says when another woman walks up to Yelena.

“Try the appetizers, they’re really good!” Yelena says before going up to meet a group of art dealers.

It’s a big night for the Art Department. They have been planning this exhibit for months now. Plenty of critics and art dealers would stop by, hoping to find the next big name.

Natasha walks around, eyeing the paintings and sculptures in the room. Distracted by a very abstract work, she fails to notice another person walking behind her until her back collides with a shoulder.

“Sorry” she turns, surprised at meeting your eyes and friendly smile.

“Hi, Professor Romanoff” you greet. “How are you liking the exhibit?” 

“It’s good. What are you doing here?”

“College paper business. And to support my roommate, Wanda” you point at a couple of paintings, with very dark themes and distorted faces. “She’s uh… going through her misunderstood artist phase” 

“Well, she’s certainly committed to it” Natasha says, looking at the girl who must be Wanda, dark hair and smokey eyes giving her a grunge look.

“She’s a sweetheart” you promise, knowing that’s only one side of her. You’ve seen her cry over The Dick Van Dyke show, for heaven’s sake. Though you promised you’d never tell anyone. “Want to be on the record for me?”

“How so?”

“Just tell me what you think of the exhibit. Or the department in general” you shrug your shoulders. “It’s good that other faculty members are here”

“Well, I’ve known Carol for years, back when we were both students. She’s very committed to her work and advancing the curriculum, so it’s great to see an amazing selection tonight. My sister seems to think a great deal of the success is due to Danvers”

“Your sister?”

“Yelena Belova” Natasha clarifies. At hearing that name, you blush and she immediately assumes that something happened between you two. 

The reality is, you’ve spoken about how much you love your poetry professor in front of Yelena on more than one occasion. Now you understand why she laughed so hard when you said Natasha was Aphrodite reincarnate.

That little shit.

“Yeah, I know Yel. Wanda and her hang at the dorm, I mean, we all do” you trip over your words, picking up a glass of red wine to ease your nerves.

“You sure you can handle that?” Natasha asks, appreciating the way your cheeks blush at the taste of the alcohol.

“It’s fine” you lick your lips, missing the way Natasha follows the movement with her eyes.

“Well, it’s nice to know Yelena has someone with common sense to keep her grounded” Natasha says and inspite of your internal struggle, you smile.

In that moment, Carol clinks her glass gently, getting everyone’s attention. As she speaks, you try to listen to her words -the toast should be mentioned in the article- but your mind is focused on Natasha’s parfum, and the warmth of her body as she stands next to you. Once Danvers is done, everyone claps and you take a breath, thinking it might be a good idea to get some fresh air.

“Sestra, there you are” Yelena walks up to you two, a knowing smirk at your affected state. “I’d introduce you but I believe you already know each other”

“Yeah” you smile, looking anywhere but Natasha. “I’ll leave you to it, gotta talk to a couple more people. Enjoy your evening”

Yelena doesn’t move, so you’re forced to walk very close to Natasha, and the moment your eyes meet you almost forget how to breathe.

The redhead doesn’t miss the way your pupils are blown or the not so subtle way in which you glance at her lips.

She wants to reach out and grab your wrist, turn you around and devour your lips in a messy kiss. Instead, she sees you walk towards your friend.

“See? Aren’t you glad I made you come out of your cave?”

Apparently, your crush wasn’t one sided after all. 

—

The school paper. Natasha barely paid attention to it, even when it was delivered every Monday to her office, same as every faculty member at Lang University. 

This time, she is eager to open it and read your article. There it is, your name and a very long piece about the exhibit. Your prose is exquisite, and you didn’t just deliver an event summary; it’s a deep dive into the department, budget cuts and how students and professors are investing their own resources to keep the course alive.

Right under the dean’s nose. Natasha has to smile; it’s true that Howard Stark was more inclined to favor the Science department and a number of protests had gone unanswered on his side. Most of them came from tenured professors, as part time teachers and students were concerned with some sort of retaliation.

Not you, though.

Natasha is so focused on the article that she misses the knock on her door until Fury comes in.

“Romanoff” he greets. “Picking up on some light reading?”

“Something very entertaining” she turns the pages to show your article and he chuckles.

“She’s got balls” he recognises. “Heard she was talking about it with some art dealers who donate to the university. Apparently Stark is listening now”

“I’m happy to hear that”

“That’s not why I’m here, though” Fury sits down, crossing his legs. “The Foster Grant”

“What about it?” Natasha says, playing dumb. She hates to be the center of attention. “I know I got it, it’s no big deal”

“It is to the department. We don’t want to be the next on the list of budget cuts”

“Maybe we’ll just have to ask Y/N to write an article for us” she jokes, but Fury just smirks knowingly.

“Great idea! Let’s have her write something about your work and the research you’ve been doing” he slaps his knee, standing up. 

“What?”

“Well, don’t look at me like that, it was your idea, Romanoff. Better be this week so it’s on next Monday’s edition” he winks, leaving her office whistling.

As usual, Natasha is blindsided by her boss. How on Earth will she manage a conversation alone with you?

Still, Fury leaves no room for argument, and at the end of Tuesday’s class, you approach her desk.

“I was told you had an assignment for me” you say, biting your lip nervously.

“Yes, that’s right. Something about a research grant, it’s really not a big deal. Sorry that Fury put you up to it” she dismisses the thing like it’s a nuissance.

“I don’t mind at all. Just wanted to check if… when do you want to meet. And where. It would be better around Thursday so I can come prepared with questions and then write everything over the weekend. But I’ll adjust to your schedule” 

“Thursday is fine by me” Natasha nods. “My office? Last class is at 5, so maybe 6”

“Yeah, sounds good” you nod, blushing. “See you then, professor”

How will you survive this?

—

Thursday comes faster than you’d like, and you’re inspecting your wardrobe as if you’re going on a first date. 

Everythig’s too ugly. Why do you have such ugly clothes? 

Ugh, I should just cancel. 

In the end, you opt for a preppy look, with a black skirt and thights, choosing a black and white stripped sweater for the cold weather.

You run into Yelena and Wanda in the living room.

“Where are you going so fancy?” the blonde says, whistling and forcing you to twirl so she can have a 360 of your outfit. “You’re going on a date, aren’t you?”

Wanda, who actually knows about your appointment, covers her mouth to keep from laughing and you glare at her.

“Don’t”

“What? Is it someone I know?” Yelena looks between the two of you.

“Yes. It’s your sister” Wanda finally cracks. 

“It’s not a date!” you rush to say when Yelena turns to look at you. “I’m writing an article about her research”

“Mmm, right” she nods, not believing you. “She asked about you the other day, you know?”

“She did? I mean, what did she want to know?” you try to pretend it’s no big deal.

“She asked if we hooked up. I told her you’re not my type”

“Oh, please. I’m everyone’s type” you huff, picking up your bag before you run late. You still want to stop by the cafeteria.

“You’re certainly Natasha’s” Yelena mumbles, but you miss it. “Good luck on your non date with my sister”

“Not a date… although, what’s her coffee order?” 

“I’ll tell you if you admit it’s a date”

By the time you finally get Yelena to answer, you’re ten minutes late, walking around campus with two coffees and cookies. Knocking with your elbow, you hear a soft come in and figure out how to open the door. 

Juggling everything, you walk into Natasha’s office.

“Let me help you” the woman says, standing up and rushing to your side. You hand over the cup with her name. “For me?”

“Yes”

“Thank you. I’m sorry, I should be the one with a drink to offer. How did you know?” she licks her lips, appreciating the sweet flavor of the caramel macchiato. Her glasses fog from the warmth of the drink and you have to resist the urge to kiss her.

“I asked Yelena” you admit. “Glad to know she wasn’t pranking me” 

“I do have a sweet tooth”

“No worries, I won’t write anything about it” you take a notepad and your phone to record. “May I?”

“Please” Natasha settles behind her desk, appreciating that cute little frown that always appears when you’re focused. You go over your notes for a minute and then nod, ready to begin.

The hour goes by quickly, and Natasha feels proud when she notices you’ve stopped taking notes, genuinely interested and asking about everything she’s been researching for the past year and a half.

“Oh, it’s getting late. I’m so sorry for keeping you here” you apologize, looking at the time. 

“That’s ok, I’m free for the rest of the evening. I cleared my schedule just for you”

The words make your heart flutter. Of course she doesn’t mean anything by it, but how you wished she did.

“So, do you have time for a couple more questions?”

“Sure” 

For you, she has all the time in the world. Natasha could spend all night watching you put that lose strand of hair behind your ear, while you write down your thoughts. 

It’s dangerously endearing.

“I’d like to know… your favorite poem” you ask, more for yourself than for the article.

Natasha takes a deep breath, standing up and walking around her desk. She speaks as she approaches you, in that soft, tender tone that always makes your heart skip a beat.

“I loved you; even now I may confess,

Some embers of my love their fire retain;

But do not let it cause you more distress,

I do not want to sadden you again.

Hopeless and tongue-tied, yet I loved you dearly

With pangs the jealous and the timid know;

So tenderly I loved you, so sincerely,

I pray God grant another love you so”

Natasha looks into your eyes as she sits on the edge of the desk, mere inches away from you. 

In truth, you had expected her to answer with the poem’s title, not recite it to you so passionately.

“Pushkin” you sigh, looking at your hands.

“Very good” she praises, which makes you blush even harder. “It sounds better in Russian, though”

“I can imagine” you say, torn between wanting to hear it or not. You might lose your last sliver of self control if she speaks her native language.

“Is there anything else you need from me?”

You need to kiss her, discover how her lips feel against yours. Hold her hand, guide her up your skirt…

“Yes. I… mean, no, I have everything I need, professor” you snap out of your thoughts, looking flustered. “Thank you so much for making the time to speak to me”

“I always have time for my best student” she says, standing up and walking you to the door. “I’m looking forward to reading your article”

“I’ll try to live up to the expectations”

“I’m sure you will” she says gently, leaning against the threshold of the door. You look at her lips one last time before stepping back, wishing the evening could be prolonged.

Natasha watches you walk away, already missing your presence.

—

You spend the weekend reliving the interview. Thank God you kept recording when Natasha recited Pushkin, because now you have it for posterity.

The article is done, has been since you got back to your dorm. The words flowed effortlessly as you remembered everything Natasha said, and so you spent all night writing and correcting it until it was perfect. Even your editor was impressed when you sent it over.

Now, all that’s left is you, the recording and the view from your window. You listen to Natasha over and over again, hoping her presence migh somehow slip into your subconscious and then, she’ll be in your dreams as well.

As if you had summoned her, Natasha appears outside your window, walking with Yelena. As her sister walks into your building to meet with Wanda, Natasha looks up, waving at you. You remove your headphones, blushing at the fact that you were just listening to her speak on the recording.

“How’s the article coming along?”

“Signed, sealed, delivered” you smile. “I do hope you’ll like it”

“It will be the first thing I read tomorrow” she promises, saying goodbye. This time, you don’t bother to hide the fact that you’re staring as she leaves, and a little part of you feels like Juliet, watching Romeo walk away.

Forbidden love.

No, not forbidden. Unrequited.

With a sigh, you walk away and join your friends, thinking it’s better to distract yourself now that you remember Natasha Professor Romanoff is out of your reach.

Still, you can only fall asleep as you listen to her reciting that poem over and over again. And when you wake up, the resolve to see her again overcomes every fiber of your being. 

So you walk up to her office, knowing very well she’s there at break of dawn.

“Y/N” she says, looking at the paper in your hands. “Come in”

“I thought you’d like to read it. But maybe you’re busy. And you won’t like it or it’s not a big deal to you” you rant, handing it over and turning to leave. “Never mind”

“Stay” is all she says, hand reaching for your wrist. Your heart skips a beat at the contact and you nod, trying to ease your nerves. 

Natasha sits on her small sofa to read the article, and you’re too anxious so you walk around her office, examining the bookshelves. As you approach her desk, you focus on an open book, some notes scribbled along the margins.

“I love it” Natasha says, standing right behind you. You jump, so absorbed by the book that you didn’t hear her stand up and come close to you. She’s now reading over your shoulder. “It’s the Heptameron, by Marguerite de Navarre. I was working on a translation from the German edition”

You can now see the sheet of paper next to the page, Natasha’s writing looking rushed as if she fears the words will be taken by the wind. With a shaky voice, you break the sudden silence in the room, reading the story.

“A handsome young knight is madly in love with a princess

And she too is in love with him

Though she seems not to be entirely aware of it

Despite the friendship that blossoms between them or

Perhaps because of that very friendship

The young knight finds himself

So humbled and speechless

That he's totally unable to bring up the subject of his love

Till one day he asks the princess point blank

Is it better to speak or to die?”

“I found myself thinking a lot about unrequited love this weekend. And so I remembered this little thing” she says in a low voice. “What do you think is better? Speak or die?”

“I think that depends, Professor” you sigh, feeling her hand against your lower back.

“Depends… on what?” she whispers against your ear, making you shiver. “Should I speak about all the times I think of you, of how endearing and wonderful and intriguing you are to me?”

You turn around, cornered against her desk. Natasha’s hands traces a path down your arm, and takes your hand, lifting it to her lips. Your eyes follow the movement, and a sigh leaves your lips at the soft kiss she places on the back of your hand.

“Should I speak about how I wonder what it would be like to kiss you, taste you, mark you, until you’re chanting my name like a prayer?”

This time, her hand travels to your lips, pupils dilating as you allow her to invade your mouth with her finger, sucking gently until she retrieves it, pulling you by the waist.

“Should I speak, then? Or shall we keep pretending neither one of us wants this?” she whispers against your lips. You close your eyes, taking a breath to steady your heart. Her touch, her words, is all too much and you’re afraid it’s all a perfect dream, and at any moment you’ll wake up, alone and desperate for her.

“Please…” you say, leaning forward and capturing her lips in a messy, frantic kiss. Dream or reality, you’ll take Natasha in whatever way you can.

Natasha craddles your face in her hands, spreading your legs apart with her knee. You whine incoherently at her surprising strenght, your hands balled up in fists around the fabric of her pristine shirt. 

“You’re so perfect” she sighs against your lips. “So beautiful”

“Natasha” you plead, wanting to feel her against you, closer, harder. More, more, more until you’re on the brink of destruction and she’s all that exists.

“I want you. Do you want me?” she asks, and you catch the uncertainty in her tone.

“Of course I do” 

If only she could feel how wet you are, all because of her touch.

But there’s a knock on the door, and you both look at the spot, alarmed. Natasha squeezes your hand to reassure you.

“Yes?”

“Just delivering the paper, Professor”

“Leave it outside, I’ll pick it up in a minute. Thank you”

You take a moment to breathe and fix your hair, aware that your lips are swollen from all the kissing.

You kissed your professor. Natasha Romanoff kissed you.

“Are you ok?” she asks, worried about your sudden silence.

“Just wondering if I’m about to wake up from a beautiful dream” you admit, and she smiles.

“Do you dream of me?” she teases, her hand reaching for yours.

“Only when I’m awake”

Natasha smiles, kissing your fingers.

“Would you like to have dinner with me? My place. This Friday”

“Yes. I’d love to”

There’s another knock on the door, but Fury doesn’t wait for Natasha to answer. You jump away from the woman, unsure if this could get her into trouble.

Luckily, Fury is busy inspecting the paper that was dropped outside of Natasha’s office and he doesn’t pick up on anything as he looks up.

“Miss Y/L/N. You wrote an amazing article. Brilliant”

“Thank you, Doctor Fury” you say. “I should head out, my Sociology class is starting soon”

Natasha smiles at you, hoping you understand how much she wishes you could carry on.

But the promise of more lingers in her eyes and so, as you take one last look at her, you return her smile.

“I’m happy the knight spoke, Professor. See you in class” 

“See you in class, Miss Y/L/N”

[sleeplessdove]

be a body

e. williams x fem! reader

synopsis: the thrill of firing your girlfriend’s gun is greater than you could have ever imagined

a/n: wrote while high & not proofread !

warnings: dark themes !!! outdoor/public sex, gun usage that is incredibly irresponsible, do not do any of this !!!, gun used for penetration, r! gets eaten out, pet names, established relationship, heavy dom/sub themes!!!, slapping, r! is described more as a femme, predator/prey kink (?), gun kink, fear play, power imbalance, and lots more !

wc: 2.3k

You can feel her hand tightening against yours, as if daring you to finally pull the trigger. Even with no exchange of words, you understand why she is being so patient. She is measuring your breaths, waiting for you to slip up. Both of you know you’re out of your element but she needs to be able to prove it through your own actions. 

The weapon is dreadfully heavy and if Ellie’s hands weren’t guiding your own, you would’ve dropped it ages ago. A heavy silence falls between the two of you, the only sound being caused by your short and panicked breaths. But all the while, her breaths remained calm and had a natural ease to them. 

The amount of power she had at this moment left you petrified, and yet you never wanted this to end. You could feel her breath fluttering against your skin as she lowered her lips towards your neck, placing a tender kiss against it before speaking. 

“Take it nice n’ slow, sweetheart” 

In an instant, your whole body seemed to relax and it was as if the entire world had just gone silent. Your eyes locked onto the empty beer bottle Ellie had so kindly put out for you as target practice, and you finally felt that you were seeing it clearly. You took in a deep breath, exhaling from your mouth as you finally pressed down against the trigger enough to cause it to fire. 

The sound is disruptive to say the least, your body tensing as your ears begin to ring. It takes a moment for your mind to even register that before the ringing began, you could clearly hear the glass bottle shattering. Relief flooded every inch of your body, pride swelling in your chest. 

Your moment of triumph was interrupted as Ellie pulled the gun from your hands with very little effort, your eyes following the movements of her fingers as she turned the safety back on and slid her favorite handgun back into the holster she always wore on her thigh. 

She turns your body so you’re facing her, her strong hands firmly gripping your hips. “Look at you, little miss perfect, hm?” she questions with a smile that feels mocking but some part of you is truly soothed by it. 

You shake your head, a bashfulness growing deep inside of you that had been planted by the attention Ellie gave you. “I only got it cause you were helping” you mutter, your words small and passive. 

“And she’s modest too” Ellie quips playfully, always seeming to bask in the glow that came with teasing you endlessly. Her firm hold on your hips seems to lighten up, leaving your body to sway a bit, lost without her guidance. But soon enough, her hands begin to trail up your body. 

Every curve of your body is traced by her skilled fingers, as if she were molding you into something new, something you had always wanted to be. The feel of her rough hands came with a whirlwind of emotions, leaving you feeling breathless. At the same time you had never felt such euphoria, the rush of proving yourself to Ellie mixed with the fear of being in the woods with your armed girlfriend making everything feel like a dream. 

The cold air bites your skin as she pushes up your sweater, the realization that the two of you were out where anyone could see you making you tense in the slightest. She is quick to soothe you, leaning down to drag her tongue against the pulse point on your neck. A filthy moan leaves Ellie’s lips as she feels the wild beat of your heart against her own tongue. 

It’s a reminder that she is the one in control, and she can’t help but gently graze her teeth against the flesh, although she eternally wishes to simply sink her teeth into you. She is only being gentle because she wants to make you wait for the pleasure you are seeking out. 

“Please” you breathe out, unsure of what you’re even asking for at this point. You’d take anything from her, whether it be a kiss or a punch, anything was better than her punishingly slow pace. 

Your plea only makes her scoff and she makes a point of pressing a messy kiss against your neck before she finally moves so that the two of you are eye to eye. “Do you really think you’re the one in charge here?” she questions, feigning curiosity. When you only frown at her, she moves one hand away from your body and uses it to lightly slap your cheek. 

“I asked you a question” she adds on, her tone no longer playful. The small slap was barely enough to cause a sting but it left you reeling, the small correction instantly putting you back in your place. 

“No, I don’t” you finally mutter, speaking the truth since there was no other option. Your words must have been correct, as Ellie’s expression becomes much warmer after you speak. “That’s what I thought” she hums, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. 

To be rewarded for such words makes you dizzy with delight, the feeling of everything being out of your control somehow managing to calm you. When she finally kisses your lips, it’s as if the gates of Heaven had opened for you. 

Her tongue was akin to velvet, so warm and inviting as it slid against your own. Despite your own desperation, Ellie keeps the kiss slow and behaves as if she has all the time in the world with you. 

She shushes the borderline pitiful whines that fall from your lips when she pulls away, although she makes up for it by trailing kisses down your clothed body. You watch as she kneels before you, pushing you back against the large tree behind you. Once she has you pinned there, she begins to behave like a woman starved. 

With reverent movements, she kisses your thighs that were still covered by tights and bunches up your skirt between her fists. It feels dirty in a way you can’t quite describe, but it makes your cunt ache with need. “You did so good, following my directions cause you’re so smart” she praises, her moans mixing with her words seamlessly. 

Your body practically trembles beneath her grasp, immediately moving your hips to help her tug down your skirt along with your tights. It’s not rushed, as Ellie loves to take her time with you. “Maybe we should’ve come on a warmer day” she comments, noticing the way the cold breeze had you shaking. 

“No, no. Today is perfect, I like it” you reassure breathlessly, needing Ellie to not have a single bit of hesitance while touching you. Your quick reply makes her grin and she traces her fingers along the cotton material of your panties. 

The sight of the cute bunny printed onto the front of your panties makes her heart swell with adoration and she can’t help but lean down to press a kiss against the little bunny. “You’re the sweetest little thing I’ve ever seen” she states as if it were the most truthful words that had ever left her lips. 

You can only let out huffs and broken moans as she finally tugs your panties down past your thighs, doing your best to spread your legs while still leaning against the hard bark of the tree. 

She spreads you open for her own viewing pleasure, finding solace only when she’s buried between your thighs. You thread your fingers through her hair, tugging just enough to have her groaning. There is no doubt that you should be ashamed but when Ellie is treating your body as if it’s something holy, you can’t think straight. 

When she dips her head down and you feel the sloppy kiss she presses against your clit, you let out a moan that rumbles deep within your chest. You don’t dare to press her mouth closer to you, knowing there would be immediate consequences to your actions. 

So you’re forced to endure the slow kisses she trails all along your most intimate area, her tongue lapping at your slit ever so gently. The mere tip of her tongue had you holding onto the tree that kept you steady, the bark cracking under your fingers. 

“Did holding my gun get you all worked up, bunny? Did you feel all powerful?” she questions, her mouth so close to your cunt as she speaks that you can feel her breath against you. It leaves you squirming, unsure if you want her to do more or less. 

“Felt nice to hold, really nice” you whisper, being given no time to react as she turns you so that you are bent over and holding on to the tree. “Yeah, baby? It sounds like you love my gun just as much as you love me” she coos, using her thumbs to spread open your cunt once more, the new angle letting her see you on a deeper level. 

“There’s my pretty girl” she praises, and you’re unsure if she is speaking about you or your cunt. Either way, you feel your face heat up from all the praise she has been giving you. You’re sticky with arousal and Ellie can’t deny herself any longer. 

She leans closer, remaining on her knees behind you as she begins to feverishly eat you out. Her tongue flattens against your slit only to move back upwards so she can flick her tongue mercilessly against your twitching clit. When she closes her lips around your bud and begins to suck, your hips jerk involuntarily. 

“No, want you inside” you plead with a mewl, needing to feel connected with her. Although you know you’re asking for the impossible, as out in the middle of the woods Ellie couldn’t just grab her strap to fuck you brains out. 

However to your surprise, she is immediately able to find a way to give you the contact you are seeking out. She nudges her tongue against your slit carefully before slowly sinking it inside, fucking you on her tongue. 

It’s not nearly as deep as her strap could reach but in that moment, it’s all you needed. Her mouth is hot against you, her spit dripping down her chin as she worships your pussy. 

You’re so lost in the blinding pleasure that you don’t even realize the movements Ellie has made, that is until it’s too late. She knows you're close and yet she pulls away, leaving you aching for more. 

“Shhhhh, princess. I’ve got just what you’ve been begging for” she soothes, pressing the warm barrel of the gun against your hole that was still clenching around nothing. 

The strange feeling is enough to make you turn your head so you can glance back at her, your eyes wide with fear. Ellie uses her free hand to gently rub against the skin of your thigh, offering an understanding smile. “The safety’s on, promise. But if you wanna stop, you can tell me” she says in a calm voice that could’ve made you melt. 

No matter the shame you felt, you couldn’t deny that she was right, that this is what you wanted. “Need it…” you confess, as if pleading with her to push it inside. Your words are enough for Ellie to lose any sense of hesitation, her finger gently circling your clit while she pushes the tip of her gun inside you. 

It’s warm from the recent firing of it but much smoother than you expected, the attention to your clit making the stretch much easier since you were preoccupied with ecstasy. “That’s it, baby. Look at this pretty pussy, all spread open n’ fuckin’ dripping for me” she says in a rough voice, getting worked up just from watching you. 

The thrusts from the weapon are deep and slow, letting you feel every detail of the gun inside you. The mix of fear and arousal creates something delicious and you know that you can’t hold on much longer. 

“Can I cum, please? I’ve been so good, did everything you told me to” you beg, needing her permission and approval for every little thing. Ellie sighs, as if saddened that this moment will be coming to an end but she still speeds up the thrusts for you, wanting to help you finish. 

“Of course, bun. C’mon, cum on my gun the same way you cum on my cock” she encourages, her words beyond dirty yet neither of you cared. The sound of her voice is all you need before you’re crying out her name, creaming around the still warm weapon. 

Ellie curses as she watches your pussy clamp down on her handgun like a silk vice, pulling it from your body carefully so she can see your dripping core that she had just stretched open with her weapon of choice. 

“Jesus fuck, you’re gonna help me clean this up” she mutters as she observes her gun that was now a complete mess of your juices. You can only groan in response, in no mood to help her clean her guns after she just pushed your body to its limit. 

When she realizes how out of it you are, she simply tucks away her gun and tugs your clothes back into place so you’re at least covered up. “Once we get back, I’ll give you what you want, alright?” she promises, standing up and not caring to dust the dirt off her knees. 

You can’t stop the pleased smile that spreads onto your lips, nodding contently before she gives your ass a gentle smack to get you to move on your own. The soreness is beginning to build in your body but Ellie lets you lean against her as the two of you walk back to the cabin. 

The fear from earlier lingers a bit but it only makes you more eager to reach your shared bedroom so that you can feel her tender touch that never failed to make the world feel like a perfect place.

[yuikomorii]

AYAYUI IDOL AU: Chapter 1

// I present to you… MY FIRST EVER FANFIC! It’s inspired by these headcanons and these posts. As mentioned before, in this story, the Sakamakis are simply regular idols with a vampire-themed concept; they’re not actually vampires or related. Since I noticed how much you all enjoy this kind of content and have been so supportive, I thought you might like a fanfic based on it. ☺️

I’m by no means a professional writer, and my style leans more towards the visual novel/otome game format. Even so, I hope you’ll like it! 💕

Voice announcement: Ladies and gentlemen, we have now arrived at our destination.

Before you disembark, please take a moment to ensure you have all your personal belongings with you. For your safety, mind the gap between the train and the platform edge as you exit.

We sincerely thank you for choosing our services and travelling with us. It has been our pleasure to serve you, and we hope to welcome you aboard again soon. Take care!

Yui: ( Eh? Is this…—! )

— eyes widen —

I’m here… I’m finally here!

Yui’s Monologue

I can’t believe my dream is actually coming true! All this time, this seemed like a childish wish but right now I truly am in Tokyo…!

Uuh… I’m getting a bit emotional, but can you blame me? It simply feels… surreal.

I never thought my father would agree to let me join a work exchange program in such a massive and dynamic city.

To be honest, I was half expecting him to say no, but it seems he believes in me more than I thought.

Knowing that he trusts me this much… it really makes me want to work even harder to prove he made the right choice.

Yes, that’s so. I will try my best to make father proud!

— takes big breath —

Yui: Nice to meet you, Tokyo. Let’s make this journey one to remember.

Place: Studio

Photographer: And~… pose! Ah yes, exactly like that! Keep on, keep on!

Ayato: ( Man, this shit is so tiring at this point. )

— smiles falsely —

Photographer: W-Wonderful…! Another one, thank you!

— keeps taking pictures —

Ayato: ( Can this woman stop blinding me with that flashlight already? It’s past 11 pm… )

Photographer: Now, a profile sho——

Manager: Hold on.

Pardon my intrusion, but I believe we already have enough pictures for today. Don't you think so?

Photographer: Eh? But we just got star— Oh my, it’s almost 12 am!?

G-Geez, my apologies. I guess the saying “time flies when you’re having fun” must really apply here.

— winks at Ayato —

Ayato: ( Gross! )

Manager: If more promotional pictures are required, we can extend the photoshoot to tomorrow. Watanabe-san, would it be possible for you to arrive earlier if that is the case?

Photographer: With such eye candy around, who could resist spending more time with him~?

Fufu, just kidding. I'll contact the director and get back to you with an answer as soon as possible.

Until then, have a good night! Bye-bye~!

— leaves —

Ayato: Haa… thanks goodness! One more photo, and I might’ve completely lost it.

Manager: I understand completely. Given your schedule, it’s clear you’re quite overworked. Nevertheless, it’s impressive how you still manage to perform so well.

Ayato: Heh… thanks.

— rubs eyes —

Manager: You look a bit tired, Ayato-san. Rest assured, the limousine should be arriving soon.

Ayato: Right, the limo is on its——

( Fuck! I can’t believe I almost forgot about it! )

Wait! Now that I think about it, I’ve got something else to take care of.

So… don’t mind me! Go ahead and take the limo; I’ll call for another one later.

Manager: Haa… Ayato-san.

You're not planning to do something that could get you into trouble, are you?

Ayato: O-Of course not! It’s just… no, it’s nothing important. Just a silly little thing I remembered I had to solve.

— tries to leave —

Manager: Ayato-san!

Ayato: Huh?

Manager: Do NOT let anyone see you, understood?

— Ayato nods and leaves —

???: You’re late.

Ayato: …!

Man, you almost gave me a heart attack!

Laito: My bad~. You came prepared at least, didn’t you?

Ayato: Yeah, yeah.

— puts cap and mask on —

Laito: Nfu, let’s go, shall we?

Place: Street

Yui: Uuh… come on! Why is no taxi in sight?

( It’s been two hours and I still couldn’t find my way to the Airbnb. )

( I knew Tokyo was huge, but I wasn’t expecting the transportation system to be this complicated… )

— looks at sky —

( It’s already late, huh? )

( I wonder if it’s safe for a girl to roam on these streets at this hour. Well, at least I hope it is, otherwise… )

Place: Private Night Club

Laito: Two Cosmopolitans. One for me, and one for that very fine lady over there, nfu.

Ayato: Another glass of Tequila.

Laito: Heh, another one? Is this the fifth by chance?

Ayato: I had a busy week, okay?

Laito: Ah, of course you did. After all, our Ayato-kun is the IT boy of this generation. Always swamped with brand deals, while the rest of us barely get a crumb~.

Ayato: …Not funny.

Laito: C’mon, don’t take it too seriously.

— pats his back —

I doubt any of us could care less about brand deals anyway. The idol job already pays well enough, and with barely any time for ourselves, why would we want to give up even more of our freedom?

Ayato: ( It’s not like it’s my choice though. )

Well, I can’t deny that the love I get is cool and all, but sometimes… hmm, how do I put it? It feels like people only like me because I’m an idol, y’know?

Laito: That’s to be expected, isn’t it? Fans often form a one-sided connection with idols simply because we’re constantly visible and accessible through the media, without really knowing who we are or what we’re capable of.

On top of that, you’re the visual, the face everyone admires. Who wouldn’t be drawn to someone who's not only stunning but also famous? It’s like the perfect package for embodying every girl’s fantasy.

Ayato’s monologue

Laito… he always knows what to say.

Seriously, this guy is so aware of everything around him to the point that it’s becoming unsettling.

And the worst part? He’s not just talking—he’s right, which is why it almost hurts to hear it.

At the end of the day, we idols are just puppets, carefully crafted to feed into the fans’ delusions. They don’t see us for who we truly are, but rather as a fantasy they can cling to.

And we, caught in the spotlight, are forced to live out that role.

Before becoming an idol, I was surrounded by people who kept me around because of my looks. At first, the amount of attention felt good, but as I mature, I realize just how hollow that really is.

I can’t help but wonder… if it weren’t for my appearance or status, would anyone actually treat me nicely? Would anyone be willing to accept me, flaws and all?

Heh… now I just sound stupid. As long as I’m an idol, I doubt I’ll get my answer anytime soon.

Waitress: Here we go, gentlemen. The Cosmopolitan and the Tequila.

Laito: Hello, earth to Ayato-kun, are you still in there?

— waves in front of his eyes —

Ayato: Yeah, yeah. I was just spacing out a bit.

Laito: Nfu, cheers.

Ayato: Cheers.

— they start drinking —

Ayato: Ngh…!

( My chest… it started aching! )

Laito: Hm, you good?

Ayato: Y-Yeah… I just— Ngh!

( It’s getting worse! )

I need some fresh air, that’s all.

— quickly puts on mask and cap —

I’ll be right back.

— quickly goes outside —

( Haa… Haa… what is happening…!? )

Agh… fuck!

( It hurts…! Could this be…—— )

— eyes widen —

( No… No, don’t tell me this is a real heart attack! )

Hnn… Ngh!

( What… what should I do now!? )

???: Quick! Please, drink this!!

— hands him water —

Ayato: Huh…?

— takes it and starts drinking —

???: A-Are you feeling better? I got another bottle in case you need it too.

Ayato: Haa… Haa… It’s okay now, all good.

???: Are you sure…? You really seemed in a lot of pain.

Ayato: Yeah… no worries.

( This girl… she just saved my life, didn’t she? )

By the way, uhm… thanks for that.

???: A-Ah, it’s nothing, really.

As far as I recall from my father, drinking water after alcohol can help reduce chest pain and lessen the severity of a hangover. I’m glad to see that it actually works.

Ayato: Heck yeah, I’m glad to see that it worked too, otherwise who knows how I would have ended up.

— the girl giggles —

???: You should be more careful though. Drinking too much alcohol can be very dangerous.

Ayato: ( Okay, mom. )

Yeah, yeah, I got it. I’m not usually like that.

Moreover… why exactly did you help me?

???: Eh? What do you mean?

Ayato: ( Could it be that she actually recognized me? )

( My face is practically hidden behind the mask and cap, and we’re in the dark, so there’s no way she could have, right? But if she did… )

???: Uuh… I suppose it was out of pure instinct.

Ayato: Instinct, huh?

???: Yup. You see, I heard you struggling, so there was no way I could brush that off.

Ayato: Hmm… But wait a minute, what were you doing all alone at this hour?

( What if she’s a stalker then? )

???: Ah… uhm… T-That’s a bit embarrassing to say out loud.

Ayato: Oh, come on, you straight up saw me about to drop dead from drinking Tequila. There’s no way this could be more embarrassing than that.

???: Actually… today’s my first day in Tokyo, and I’ve been struggling for almost 3 hours just trying to get to my Airbnb.

I tried taking the subway, but there were way too many lines, and I got lost at some point.

As for taxis, every time I tried to flag one down, the driver just ignored me.

Ayato: ( Nevermind, I’m taking it back. This might truly be more embarrassing. )

Pfft, why didn’t you call for a cab then?

???: I couldn’t find any reliable number…

Ayato: Hmm… Alright then.

I just arranged one for you. You’ll just have to tell them your location and wait for them to get you there. There’s also no need for you to pay.

— lends her money —

???: E-Eh!? Thank you… thank you so much! But I’m sorry, I just can’t accept the money!

Ayato: Nah, it’s fine, seriously. After all, you’re the one who helped me first.

Just promise me you won’t tell anyone about what happened today. Understood?

— the girl nods —

Ayato: Heh, great. Well, I guess it was nice to meet you. Now it’s time for me to return.

???: W-Wait! I forgot to catch your name!

Ayato: …!

( So she really doesn’t know me? )

It’s——

( No… it’s too risky. )

Oh look, the cab arrived! You should hurry up!

???: But—

( He left…? )

Yui’s monologue

As the taxi started moving, I found myself looking back, almost subconsciously, hoping to catch one last glimpse of that boy.

Today had been exhausting, but despite the strange circumstances in which we met, those brief minutes spent with him were oddly comforting.

I wonder who he is and what his life is like. It feels a bit silly, I know, to be thinking so much about someone whose name I don’t even know.

But there was something in his presence that made me feel in a way I haven’t felt in a long time.

Whatever it was, it stuck with me, lingering in my thoughts even after we parted ways.

My journey has only just begun, and yet I can’t shake the feeling that meeting him was no coincidence.

I really hope I get the chance to cross paths with him again.

[kararisa]

darling, starling

— 27. through it all — ✦ (wc: 0.8k)

notes: this took longer than expected ^^ hope you guys enjoy the chapter!

To Yae Miko's credit, she cut straight to the chase. 

Not that Scaramouche would give her much credit in general, given that she had always treated him with such indifference over the years before he finally moved out. But he'd take his small blessings whenever he could.

It was a cut-and-dry deal: Yae Miko would interview Scaramouche regarding the recent scandal between his partner and one of the band members of Windborne. He would get the chance to clear the air with the help of one of the most influential news outlets in all of Inazuma, while Yae Miko would get an exclusive story people could only dream about.

It should have been over the moment they ended the interview. But here they are, making casual conversation. At least as casual as it gets between a son and his estranged mother-in-law.

Scaramouche has seen these tactics before. Whenever Yae Miko wanted information, she’d make casual conversation with the interviewee to get them to open up. And that’s when she strikes.

Ironically enough, it was also Yae Miko who taught him how to avoid this. She was the one who taught him when to give information and when to hold back; how to satiate people’s curiosity enough so they leave you alone. Basic media training — training he and Kaori knew by heart.

Yae Miko tilts her chin downwards, the way she does whenever she gets curious. “You’ve been back in Inazuma for a little over a year now. Is it nice living with them? I’m assuming so since no one’s spotted you packing your bags just yet.”

“I still live with them. But that’s none of your business.”

“Oh come now, you saw me turn off the recorder. Everything we’re saying right now is off the record.”

Against his better judgment, he yields, “It’s... nice. On the days when they actually wake up early, they help me cook. It’s become a routine of sorts.”

He knew that was exactly what she was looking for when he saw the hint of satisfaction in her eyes.

It’s a slippery slope, trusting a journalist. Some will risk their lives for the truth while others will stab you in the back while shaking your hand. But if it’s Yae Miko, he has no doubt she’ll only publish the truth, if only a little embellished. She has to sell stories, after all.

“You’re never usually this civil with me,” Scaramouche doesn’t attempt to mask his suspicion. “What do you hope to gain with a conversation that’s off the record?”

Yae Miko offered a cryptic smile, her eyes revealing a flicker of sincerity. “Am I not allowed to be curious? People are actively looking for you just for the chance at an interview and you reached out to me in the hopes of clearing the air about your relationship.”

He’d be loathe to admit that she was one of the few people he trusted to handle the story properly. But he still had to ask, “And now you’re just this so-called off-the-record conversation as some sort of blackmail?”

She sighs, “I’m getting an exclusive interview with the author who’s dating an Inazuman pop star. Would you blame me for asking a few questions? Besides, you’ll see none of this conversation mentioned in any articles.”

“How do I know you’re not just bullshitting me...”

“I can understand your apprehension, but words hold power, Scaramouche. Everyone in the industry knows this. And so do you.”

Scaramouche has never really seen eye-to-eye with Yae Miko on a multitude of things, but one of the few things they can agree on is that people shouldn’t just blindly believe what people say just because they have a large following. The Narukami Press has always strived to publish articles that are reflective of the truth. 

But bias is inevitable, whether you work in journalism or public relations.

“A large majority of people are always going to want to chase the latest drama without caring if it’s true or not,” she starts. “You’ll find no such motivation in me to keep fanning the flames. I want them to die down as much as you do.”

“People like us have a responsibility to be careful with what we say and how we say it,” she continues. “The drama with Zenith was blown out of proportion, that much is for sure. People were hungry to see their downfall given that they were on top for so long but they were just as eager to drag you down with them.”

“Setting the record straight by yourself will be nearly impossible,” she states matter-of-factly. “But your friends have been preparing their statements to defend your partner, yes?”

He isn’t even surprised that she knows about this, especially a PR move this big. Working with his friends will be the best way to get the rumors to die down to a manageable level.

“Your word and Xiao’s will be what people hang onto the most. Make it count.”

“And fight for them, Scaramouche. They need you now more than ever. If you decide to ignore all my advice, then that’s fine by me. But never stop fighting for them.”

“Like hell I’d ever stop. No matter what happens, I’ll be with my partner through it all.”

✧— previous — masterlist — next —✧

summary: being the world-famous singer-songwriter "zenith", the limelight has been on you ever since the start of your career. however, the media becomes relentless when leaks of music you never meant to release begin to circulate. your friend scaramouche, meanwhile, seems to have gotten stuck while writing his second book. with a deadline fast approaching, he comes to you with a deal: act as if you're dating him so he can gather reference material and, in turn, he'll help keep the press' eyes off of your leaks until you release your next album. a win-win in your book, so why not help a friend out?

author's notes:

i lied, this was my favorite chapter to write by far

happy new year everyone!! updates will probably slow down from here but i hope you enjoyed the chapter ^^

taglist — currently CLOSED:

@aestherin @your-kuya-pogi @yourstrulykore @krnzysh @vxnuslogy @yumiaur @featuredtofu @kodzusmiles @meigalaxy @nymphxie @motherscrustytoenailclippings @samyayaya @hiimera @beriiov @e0nssadrift @dazaisboner @nillajhayne @chluuvr @deffenferofjustice @romyoia @xiaomainlmao @hotgirlshit5 @potabletable @letthewindlead @esuz @toriiee @kclremin @angelkazusstuff @phoenix-eclipses @sakiimeo @mayuumine @lilybythevalley @one-and-only-tay @keiiqq @what-just-happened-huh @haunts-gh0st @layla240 @miaakai @duckyyyx @cinnaniyoom @kgogoma @xtobefreex @mechanicalbeat1 @feiherp @venturinea @nnasv @retiredmommylover @onmywaytoteyvat @tiredslepz @saccharine-sucks

[celuere]

i bet zani knows just the right places in town to sneak off with you undisturbed since her work as part-bodyguard probably requires her to often get her clients to safety in case of dangerous situations. the zani brainrot is starting to take over. the devil works fast. but i work faster.

cw: fem!reader, semi-public, vaginal fingering this is kinda rushed and i’m tired alrnnwnrnsndnyisk

it happened to be a sunny day. actually- a sunny work day.

but the weather barely contributed anything to a relaxed work environment. an action getting called off, another client being ignorant of rinacitas rules- it was draining for poor zani. work is rarely draining for her.

so spotting you amidst the crowd that gathered around one of the various street performances after she- rather unkindly- bid farewell to her client (may he get stroke down during the next thunder storm), you might as well handed her the lottery on a silver platter.

originally you just wanted to take advantage of the great weather and get some errands done for the coming weekend but you always had a hard time walking by the street performance echoes or the various food stalls that you got a total of… one. singular errand done. a bit pitiful, isn’t it?

to be honest, the only reason you even stepped food outside the house today is that you felt the need to do something nice for your wife. with the carnival nearing, her hands are packed with all kinds of responsibilities, managing actions, guarding guests of the montelli family- the woman was barely home anymore. only coming home when you’ve long ago fallen into the land of dreams and leaving again at the first signs of the sun starting to rise. my god you missed her.

you barely winced when you suddenly felt a hand from behind brushing your hair out of your face „enjoying the show, mia caro?“, whisking a kiss right behind your ear, zani took a moment in to bathe in your scent. at least one thing that could lighten her mood.

it wasn’t rare to run into her during her work but you often refrained from directly approaching her when it did happen, „zani… you can say that… i didn’t know you were in the area today…“, your wife wasn’t often a fan of public affection. she thinks it‘s better reserved behind closed doors, but she placed that kiss onto the back of your hand nonetheless. wrapping an arm around your waist to slowly guide you away from the crowd.

„i was. but… complications with a new client rather forced me to cut my task here short… what about you? wanted to enjoy the weather?“, you ignored how she streets got quieter and quieter the more you ventured into the city.

„ah, yes… kind off. i decided to get some groceries done for the weekend while i‘m at it.“, with a soft smile, you lifted up the rather poorly stuffed bag in your hand. your spouse only raised an eyebrow as you came to a stop in an empty corner of the harbor. a beautiful view right on the glimmering ocean.

„groceries? didn’t we get those just this monday? amore, it‘s wednesday…“, she gave your cheek a slight squeeze, „at least take my wallet…“, not hesitating for one second, zani fished her portmonee from her pants and opened it, „how much do you need?“.

„nono-! h-honey, it’s not like that, please put the money away-!“.

she looked at like you were crazy.

„it‘s uh… sigh i actually wanted to buy some things to set up a nice dinner at home this weekend…“, you couldn’t help but feel a faint blush creeping up your cheeks at the forced confession, lying to her was no use anyways. she read you like the morning papers.

„a nice dinner, hm…?“, slowly she stuffed the wallet back into her pants, „tell me more…“, her teeth got a hold of the fingertip of her glove before pulling it straight off her hand. something tightened in your abdomen.

„i-i thought about maybe baking a- h-hold on what are you doing-?!“, your head almost frantically wiped around as your wife pushed a knee between your legs to part them and swiftly sneaked her hand underneath your sundress.

„oh, don’t mind me. keep on explaining.“, wetting her lips as she was already met with your arousal when she slipped her fingers into your slip, zani was barely moved by the possibility of you two getting caught with her fingers knuckles deep inside you. she might have a certain distaste for showing it publicly, but sneaking off to an almost abandoned street was something else. her logic not often made sense to you.

„h-hah…. I… I-I thought about maybe baking something together… l-like a… ngh… p-pizza…?“, her fingers circling your clit in slow, steady motions made it unnecessarily difficult for you to form a coherent sentence.

„baking together, hm…?“, as she deemed you slick enough, she sneaked her fingers inside of your already aching pussy, „amore, non smetti mai di sorprendermi…“

„love, you certainly never fail to surprise me…“

„o-oh-! w-well… hah… w-what can i say…? i miss my w-wife…“, you were probably getting fingers right now against the poor window of an elderly lady but that was long forgotten with the first curl of her fingers.

„the feeling is mutual, bellissima… but really, you don’t have to go all out for me like this…“, zani‘s shit day was already reduced to small afterthought in her brain. the way you clenched around her fingers with how you slammed your hand over your mouth to muffle your moans- you were lucky you aren’t home right now because the scenario of somebody catching her buried with her face between your legs out in the open was… not so appealing now that she thought about it.

„can‘t talk…? a pity…“, her fingertips rubbed against your most sensitive spot like it’s all they’ve ever done, watching you jolt with each curl of her fingers as your slickness coated your inner thighs. it was almost torture that she couldn’t lick you clean afterwards.

„stay quiet for me, darling… mhm… just like that… my, look at those hips riding my hand…“.

she had way too much fun. that smile deserved to be wiped off her face for good.

seeing you melt over her fingers was just the cure she needed for her mood. how you whimpered her name into her hand, gripping tightly into her shirt with the other. her own pants were getting annoying.

„there, there… good girl…“, pulling out her coated fingers, she made no drama about it and licked them clean with her tongue before putting the glove back on and handing your poor panting self a napkin to clean you up.

„mr. alberto urgently requested my presence in a few minutes, i‘ll accompany you back to the square and depart from there.“, you saw how she had to hide her chuckle as you glared up at her.

how convenient for her.

on your way back you didn’t dare mutter a single word, too embarrassed by how easily you folded for her just now, she didn’t tease you about it either.

placing a way too fast kiss on your forehead when you reached the townsquare, zani leaned in to your ear.

„i would like to see you already naked when i‘m coming home later.“

much to your disdain, she also left a heavy sum in your bag which you only noticed when she was out of sight. unbelievable.

[noirsdoll]

inspired by this anon ask!!

-> pretty please? part two

all aboard! | the dinner party

pairing: curly x wife!reader

words: 3.0k

tags: dubcon, referenced rape, baby trapping, semi-public sexual stuff, mentions of jimmy’s abuse towards anya, anya gets an abortion, reader is the worst person alive, there’s an actual smut scene this time, no crash au

notes: wasn’t planning on writing a second part but the brainrot got sooo bad uh reader gets even worse imo… writing the anya part caused me physical pain IM SORRY also i need to walk all over curly he’s so…

read it on ao3

Mrs. Grant Curly.

It sounds just as good as it feels. When Pony Express became fully automated, you lost your job just like everybody else. You were lucky that, when the dust settled, you’d made your mark on Curly.

Walking down the cargo ramp, displaying your fresh baby bump, courtesy of him, you've never felt more secure. Sure, Curly proposed to you more out of necessity than want and you got married at the courthouse, but you don’t care. That white picket fence dream you’d been chasing is now a reality.

Of course, you’re the one that cooks and cleans around the house— you didn’t expect anything less, you were sure that Curly had a housewife fantasy rolling around somewhere in that empty head of his. It’s nice, it keeps your hands busy and your mind free, because while he might be the one ordering you around, you’ve never felt more in control in your entire life.

You’re having the former crew over for dinner at your shared house, tonight. Fortunately, Jimmy got locked up for what he did to Anya quickly after the Tulpar’s touchdown, so you won't be seeing him for half a year, at least. The attendees are you, Anya, Daisuke, Swansea, and your lovely husband, Curly.

You cling to Curly’s arm, beckoning everyone in. Your guests crowd around you, admiring the ring Curly wrapped around your finger. A glittering diamond, so heavy it weighs down your hand. Curly smiles awkwardly.

“Wow, it’s gorgeous!” Anya says, with a clear hint of jealousy. You got a ring out of that trip and she gets an abortion.

“Damn, the Captain must be loaded!” Daisuke exclaims, tugging your hand closer for a better inspection.

Swansea nods. “It’s a good investment. You seem like a hard worker.”

“The hardest,” you say with a grin and a coy glance at Curly. “Dinner’s on the table. Pot roast.”

Everyone tucks in, one of the few non-synthetic meals they’ve had since their return to Earth, except for Daisuke, of course. You wonder how much his mom earns and how much it differs from Curly. For all you know, he could be a basement dweller for the rest of his life with no worries.

Curly sits beside you, eating quietly. With your free hand, you trail it up his thigh. You’ve touched him so many times before, but he still freezes up a little. Fortunately, you’ve done it enough that he knows better than to say anything, continuing to eat, albeit stiffer.

Your hand passes over his cock, right over the fabric of his nice suit. He looks so good in dinner formal— that tailored suit hugs his waist and somehow contains his tits. You’re glad you married him.

You hold a conversation with Swansea– something about gas prices and advice about your future kid— all with your hand gently running along the line of Curly’s dick. You honestly don’t care if they see, your cooking is good enough of a distraction.

You turn to look at the side opposite Curly and see Daisuke staring. Not at you, but at your hand— the one on Curly’s cock.

The both of you lock eyes and he looks away, his tan skin flushed rouge. You watch him for a moment, intrigued, slowly pulling away.

Nothing else happens for the rest of dinner, everyone migrates to the living room afterwards. Swansea’s showing Curly something in the garage and Anya’s in the washroom, so that just leaves you and Daisuke.

You lean back on the couch beside Daisuke. “So… what’re you doing now that the Tulpar’s done for?”

He rubs the back of his neck, wearing a suit— an expensive, designer one. “I dunno, Swansea’s having me join his freelancing business— and I think he’s great and all but like, I’m nowhere on his level.”

“I think you’re pretty capable, Daisuke,” you smile. “If not, I’m sure my husband can network you somewhere.”

Daisuke glances down at your pregnant stomach and back up. “So, you and the captain, you’re really like, married and all that?”

“Yeah, why?”

“No, nothing, it’s just— it seems kinda out of nowhere.” He shrugs, looking away. “You really spooked us when you announced it on the ship.”

“We’d been together for a while, it’s only natural that something would happen,” you laugh. You expected it to— you’d have poked holes in his condoms if he had them.

Daisuke swallows. “How long have you been together?”

You think for a moment. “Since maybe about… halfway through the trip? We just couldn’t keep our hands off of each other, really.”

“Oh, wow, that long?” He looks at you with a furrowed brow, contemplating.

“Yeah… is something wrong?”

“No,” he shakes his head, “I just feel stupid for not noticing.

“You’re not stupid, Daisuke. I said you were capable, remember?” You grin. “He just likes to keep things private, you know?”

“Private? But you two were…” He doesn’t finish the sentence. Is he talking about what he saw at the dinner table?

Daisuke glances past you and you hear footsteps, it must be Curly and Swansea returning from the garage.

You decide to play a game.

“... so then I figured I’d return to my roots. Go back to being a car mechanic,” Swansea says, halfway buried in a cardboard box.

“Right…” Curly holds the box steady for him, watching Swansea root through his spare tools like a raccoon.

Swansea springs up with a new wrench in hand— one that looks exactly like all the others he’s found laying around in Curly’s garage. “The missus wants me back to work already. Can you believe her?”

“It’ll be good for your joints,” Curly says, setting the box down.

Swansea tosses the newfound wrench into the pile of all the other hammers and pliers and wires. It thunks against the dull metal. Curly pats the dust off his suit, Swansea doesn’t seem to be worried about the condition of his own.

“Nah, she just wants to nag. She’s good at nagging.” Swansea laughs, patting Curly on the back and knocking the wind out of his lungs. “Get used to that, huh? You keep telling yourself it’ll end eventually and it never does.”

Curly takes a moment to regain his breath. “Thank you, but she doesn’t nag.” You do something far worse than nag.

“Yeah? Well, it’ll be something or another. It always is with women.” He pops his back, groaning. Swansea gestures to his pile of knick-knacks with his head. “I’ll have these all back to you by the end of the month.”

Curly nods. “Thanks, Swansea.” He’s never seeing those tools again.

After hauling it all to Swansea’s rusty pickup, they head to the living room. That’s where Curly sees you and Daisuke. He hears you too, and he wishes he couldn’t.

“Oh, you’re talking about me feeling him up during dinner? Yeah, Curly’s into being humiliated. He always has me do stuff like that when we’re in public.” You shrug. “I think it’s nasty, but you know, gotta keep the husband happy.”

Curly stops dead in his tracks, unsure of what to do or say. It’s like a car crash, all he can do is watch, powerless to stop the careening vehicle.

“So… you do stuff like that all the time?” Daisuke’s voice is shaky, breathless.

“Yeah, most couples roleplay.” You look so at ease. Curly feels sick. “Have you ever tried anything like that, Daisuke?”

“What?! I, uh, no, I haven’t.”

“That’s a shame. I’m sure if I talked to him, you and I could work something out—”

“Honey?” By some force of God, he’s compelled to speak, walking forward to the both of you.

You turn to him, your eyes lighting up. Curly would be flattered if he didn’t know your true intentions. Time with you has told him one thing— you’re constantly scheming. This is your newest one. But why drag Daisuke into this? Just to spite him?

Maybe you’re switching targets. That could be a good thing, but Curly can’t bring himself to feel that way– especially when it’d just be another person getting hurt in his stead.

He was never hurt. You’re a pretty girl, of course he’s wanted it, he was just confused. That’s why he never pushed you off, that’s what makes it all okay.

“Ah, there’s the man of the hour,” you smile, “we were just talking about you, nothing important.”

Curly glances from you to Daisuke, whose eyes are so wide they swallow up his whole face. “Yeah, had a feeling you were. Why don’t you go check on Anya? Swansea and I have some business stuff to talk to Daisuke about and I doubt you want to be around for that.”

“Of course,” you beam, getting on your tiptoes to kiss him. You leave with a flurry of your dress around the corner.

At least Curly can say you aren’t bad to look at.

“Fuck, fuck, where did I put it?”

Anya rifles through her tiny purse, sorting through makeup and pills and her phone, searching for the one thing she really needs right now. She feels frantic, lamenting not wearing a dress with pockets. Eventually she finds it, pulling out a wrinkled period liner that was shoved to the bottom of her bag.

Getting her period is a reminder of Jimmy, a reminder of the fact that she’s not pregnant anymore, that she’s safe from him now. Anya never knew her period could be so comforting.

Just as she grabs a hold of the pad, she hears a knock on the bathroom door. “Who is it?” Anya shoves the pad back into her void of a bag, trying to disguise the crinkles with her voice.

“Can I come in?” It’s you. One of the few friends she has.

“Yes, of course.”

You enter, baby bump first, and Anya has to look away, wringing her hands. She doesn’t mean for the gesture to appear so rude, but she can’t help it.

“Is everything okay?” You ask, moving your head till it meets her gaze.

Anya nods on instinct. “Yes, I’m fine. Just… parties make me exhausted sometimes.”

“I get it, totally.” You sit on the edge of the tub, with Anya leaning against the counter. Everything in this bathroom is so blindingly white— it reminds Anya of the room where she got her abortion— operation.

“Um, congratulations on you and Curly’s marriage, if I didn’t say it already.”

You smile, “Aww, thank you, Anya. Truly, I’ve never been happier.”

“That’s good,” she purses her lips, debating if she should ask the question. “On the Tulpar, you told me that Curly made you do things. Is everything okay with you and him?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “Sometimes people make mistakes, confuse a situation for something it’s not, you know?”

“Ah, really?”

“Oh, all the time.” You say it like it’s obvious. Something winds in Anya’s stomach. “I figured, it was just all in my head, really. You just wanna feel special sometimes. I talked to Grant and apologized for saying a thing like that and now it’s all better.” You gently pet a hand over your stomach. “Plus I get this little guy as a reward for all my hard work.”

Anya swallows. “Right, yeah.” It feels like she’s being crushed from above. She can’t breathe, blurting out each word. “Do you have a pad, by any chance? I only have one and I don’t think it’ll be enough.”

Slowly, you shake your head. “Sorry, I don’t get those anymore. I’m pregnant, remember?” You chuckle. “Will you be okay without an extra?”

She nods. “Yes, I might have to leave early, though.”

“Alright, well, come get me when you want to leave so I can show you out.” You pat her shoulder, smile a warm smile, and leave the way you came.

Anya collapses in a heap once the door closes.

Like all good things, the party eventually comes to an end. You stand at the door with Curly’s hand on your waist, the perfect picture of a couple as you see your guests off.

Once the door shuts and the porch lights click off, Curly reaches for his tie’s knot, loosening it with a sigh. “Did you have fun?”

“So much fun.” You lock the door, heading down the hall to the bedroom. “How was your business talk?”

Curly trails after you, undoing his suit jacket. “It’s boring. It always is.”

You reach the bedroom, standing by the foot of it as you unzip your dress and step out of it. Curly looks like he wants to say something, so you stay silent. Poor thing, it’s like speaking his mind hurts.

He’s halfway down unbuttoning his dress shirt when he strings the words together. “Am I not enough for you?”

“What makes you say that?” You know exactly what he’s talking about. You just like seeing the way he questions himself when you question him.

You unclasp your bra, your tits drooping. You hate the way you look pregnant, you have to avoid seeing your reflection like a fucking vampire. It’s a means to an end, that’s the only thing that’s reassured you.

“That whole thing with Daisuke— you can’t just say stuff like that in front of other people.” He’s gaining a bit of a backbone, it surprises you. “I want this to work.”

“Then we both need to step up, right?” You move closer. “I cleaned the whole house and cooked dinner just for you to spend most of the time hiding in the garage.”

“We were working, it wasn’t like it was on purpose—,”

“No, it was on purpose. You’re being a bad husband, Grant.” You gesture to your belly, the final nail in the coffin. “You can’t act like this when I’m pregnant with your baby, okay? You have to be a father to your child.”

You stand there, fuming and for a moment you actually feel angry. Your performance is so convincing even you believe it.

“Hey, don’t be mad, please.” It’s the best argument he’s got, especially when he tips your grumbling face up to meet his baby blues. “I fucked up today and I’m sorry, okay? I’ll do better, promise.”

Fuck, he’s so perfect. He caves like clockwork, hearing him admit it’s his fault gets you soaked every time. You kiss him, soft and slow. “Could you help me take off my heels, then? My feet are killing me.”

You sit on the edge of the bed and Curly takes a knee, the same way he did in your crew quarters, promising to buy you a ring the second he landed. And he always keeps his promises.

He undoes your heels and you watch on with an easy grin as he peppers kisses along your ankles and the top of your feet. You expected him to do that, Curly’s so predictable. He keeps his eyes on yours, searching for your praise. He kneads your feet a little too, massaging out all the aches and pains.

His mouth trails higher and higher until it reaches its end destination— your shaven pussy. You can never get a good look with the baby bump in the way, so you make him shave it. It’s one of his favourite tasks– like a sensory toy for a toddler.

Curly’s tongue laves over your slit and he eats you out, thick eyelashes fluttering closed as he takes his time with you.

Your orgasm makes up for the fake anger you lobbied at him— it swallows you up and spits you back on the bed with a limp spine. You deserve it, honestly, all this acting really takes a toll on you.

Your favourite part is when he gets on the bed with you, big burly arms caging you in. It feels like the entire world’s been closed out and it’s just you and him. Nothing but his warm body pressed so tightly to yours. Two puzzle pieces that fit.

Curly fumbles a little in the dark, but eventually his fat cock is splitting you open, that same perfect cock that knocked you up all those months ago. It feels just as good as it did the first time and all those subsequent times after.

His eyelids fall to half mast as he looks at you, and that’s how you know you have him. So easily ensnared, what’s the point of an argument when you can just spread your legs and he comes willingly? You’ll have to try it next time, see if your pussy does a better job of speaking for you.

The mattress creaks with every slow movement. Unhurried and hard is the rhythm he always chooses, constantly searching your expression to make sure he isn’t hurting you. Not that you’d mind.

It would just remind you of that night in his quarters, when he’d snapped and he was no longer the Curly you’d grown obsessed with, when you were half sure he might kill you. Since then, you made sure never to push him that far again, to only play games you were certain you’d win.

And Curly filling you up after a long day is a sure bet.

He cums quicker than you’d like, but you’re too tired to berate him. He’s done enough today. Crowded up against his chest, you play with the hair there, winding the short strands around your fingers.

Too fucked out for malice, you both talk for a while. On baby names, on family, on being better. You only care about one of those. You’ve been set on the baby names ever since you scratched them onto the metal wall of your quarters back on the Tulpar— right above the heart with both yours and Curly’s names.

You just tell him you haven’t decided yet.

[sschizoid]

was wonderiiiiiiiing if you'd be up for any jimcurly hcs if they were in an au? I had so many idea and now that Im here Im blanking lmao- something fluffy please! Im dehydrated over here (there's so much toxic yaoi,- and don't get me wrong, im obsessed, but also- I want them to have some genuine moments yk TT_TT)

ohhh have I got LOTS of thoughts for you anon. wall of text inbound!

--

curly

curly has a naturally gentle, soft and nurturing personality. he's known jimmy for years, and despite his temperamental moments, he still welcomed him with open arms, even trusting him to live under his roof when he was down on his luck. simply put, curly loves jimmy, he always has. he just doesn't know where the line is drawn between them. but he's content with just being in the same room as him

curly's love language is acts of service, and preparing home-cooked meals is his favorite way to display that. he'll invite jimmy to a plate he's prepared, who he knows will most likely reject the offer, even though he's probably hungry, but he'll eventually cave in. he always does

they'll eat on the couch, their shoulders close together and knees idly knocking. curly will happily yap and get lost in a multitude of side tangents, while jimmy just listens, rarely chiming in. it used to drive curly crazy when he'd refuse to speak; he wanted to know what was going on in the other's mind so badly. but he's since accepted that that's just how he was. ever the observer, hardly the engager. and that was okay. he had enough thoughts to talk for the both of them

he often thinks about how jimmy was before everything, back when they were younger, before the world was big, and before his brain practically consumed him. it saddens him in the moment, but its fine, he doesn't dwell for too long. all jimmy needs is encouragement and love, and curly is happy to provide that. he would do anything for jimmy. and he wouldn't have it any other way

jimmy

jimmy wholeheartedly believes that he is incapable of loving or even caring about another human being, yet feels strange when in curly's company. he's always psyching himself out regarding this— his thoughts and senses aren't often reliable, his mind is always playing tricks on him, and he fucking hates labels. but curly? that motherfucker was an enigma

he'll never outright say it, but he enjoys when curly touches his hair or places a hand on his shoulder and gives it a quick squeeze. small notions that aren't overbearing, but still communicate "I'm in your corner". it's comforting, those touches that, if placed by anybody else, would probably irritate the fuck out of him. but coming from curly, they were bearable. more than that, they were welcome

one of the traits he likes about curly is that he doesn't helicopter. he knows how to speak jimmy's language, or at least, does his best, and jimmy likes that. but at the same time, curly doesn't enable. doesn't let him do stupid shit if he knows it'll be harmful or make him upset. and god fucking damn does it piss jimmy off in the moment, because who is he to criticize how he lives his life? but the morning after, he's more often than not begrudgingly appreciative that curly is stern enough to reel him in and keep him grounded. its a careful balance, one they've mastered well over the years

sometimes, and only sometimes, does jimmy think about holding him. when his brain is just a little bit calmer, often after a really good talk or meal. he usually lets those thoughts perish, but sometimes, he starts to fantasize. not even about sex, just about having a normal fucking domestic life. being in love, being loved, being intimate. he'll catch himself looking into curly's eyes and try to imagine some sort of future, one where he gets his shit together and learns to tolerate being alive. one where curly can say he's proud of him and have a reason to actually mean it. a nice house, a different city, maybe they'd even get a dog. the idea always feels like a far away pipe dream, but fuck if it isn't nice to think about, at least for a little while

--

WHEW sorry i got kinda carried away with this one, i just have so many feelings about them. also this is probably more of an, uh... melancholic fluff lol but I hope you like it anyway! ( ; w ; )

[vera-deville]

01/01/2025 Word Count: 2,127 Warnings: Reader goes through what is basically a panic attack, slight mention of blood, let me know if I missed anything! Gender: AFAB Notes: This is the first chapter of a series I am working on! I'm very excited to see how far this goes and I hope you enjoy it! A huge thanks to my beta reader: @crowfiendnest not only for reading through my drafts, but for also being an amazing friend. Part 1, Part 2 (coming soon), Series Masterlist (coming soon)

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Had you known that such a little piece of fabric would prove so tedious to tie, you would have bought the clip-on tie the saleslady had recommended to you (and rightfully so, it seems). It had been, what, 25 minutes? No, 26 minutes of trying to tie a tie, look neat and professional, and feel good before walking into your interview. Looking ahead at the mirror, you scowl, hurriedly grabbing the untied tie off your neck and throwing it on your bed. The sounds of footsteps directed you towards the figure of your mother who was approaching you.

Pausing, she glanced at the tie carelessly tossed onto the bed, then shifted her gaze to you with a raised brow. You let out a sigh, struggling to find the right words, but before you could speak, she shook her head with a hint of amusement. Your mother stifled a chuckle as she picked up the long, narrow fabric and began tying it around your neck with effortless precision, her movements practiced and sure.

"Taking after your father in more ways than one, hmm?" She chides. "He never did learn how to tie a tie either."

If you weren't your mother's daughter, you'd assume her to be disappointed, but you knew better. That, and the soft smirk on her face spoke measures. "In my defense, this is my first time wearing a tie..."

"Honey, you don't have to wear a tie, you know?" Your mother says as she motions for you to follow her.

"I wanted to be more mature. More adult. More professional." You reply.

"Being professional doesn't lie just in the way you dress. Sure, it helps, but your excellent set of skills and information is what makes you a valuable candidate. Dressing nice is just the cherry on top to sell the whole thing." You smile at her words. "Being professional is how well you understand things and how well you can articulate those things to others. Hurry along now. You should get some food in you before you head to your interview."

You nodded, as you made your way to the kitchen. Your sister was already at the table, gorging on the food (not that you can blame her; your mother's cooking is immaculate).

Eventually, you finished eating and grabbed your bag, heading off to the interview that you were so nervous about. You still couldn't believe you landed the interview, especially when you'd been told by so many professors and senior students that companies at career events almost never hired freshmen. But so far, it had been one good thing after another. You just hoped this kind of luck would stay a little longer.

Waiting at the bus stop, you hummed a fun little tune to yourself. It had been stuck in your head for some time now, and it seemed to soothe the light case of jitters you had. You fantasized about walking into the interview room, acting all confident (even if you weren't totally confident), and blowing away the interviewers and then being the first freshman (at least known to you) at college to have landed a summer internship on the first try. After that, it was only a matter of time before your dreams came true, slowly, but surely.

That's why it was so weird when you heard a sound that shouldn't have been any where near you.

Ň̸̳̥̄̎͑̓̍̋͊́̉͂̃͂̈́̀͒͑͌͛̏̀͌̎̎̉̊͂̎̿̈́̇̉̏͆̉̓͒͗̂͘̚͝ͅE̵̡̛̬̫͍̱̼̼͚͇̽̌̈̿̿̋͋͒̓̋̊̈́̍̏̊̒̽̐͐̓̾͌͐̈́̊̆̋̀̏͛̃̚͝͝͝Ǐ̴̧̝͚̟͖̣͓̗̫̖̞̙̝̪͎̦̖̬̜̫̙̯̠̺̬̞̘̤͍͋̈́̒̀͒͛̌̄̉̓̃̅̃̓̎͋̀͌̃̀͗̚̕̚Ģ̸̛͉̬̹̲͓̟̼̭̯͍̩̝̟̓̅͐̍͑̒́͆̋̄̉͋̿͐̄̽̈́̈́͐̊̓͠͠͝H̴̢̻͈̦̱͈͎̤̝̪̦̙̳̖͈̻̯̱̭͎̠͖͇͈̳̭̄͛̇̾̌̉̽̌̓̇̐̃͐̒͘͜͜͜͜͜͝ ̷̻͕̹̗͈̰͓̫̙̥̳̯̦͈̣̦̗̬͖͒̑͆̓̆͘

That really didn't sound right. Sure, there was a horse barn at your university, but that barn was on the other side of campus. And you were no where near it-

"Is that an animal?" You wondered.

And that's when you saw two beasts charging at you before your mind went blank.

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

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…​🇫​​🇴​​🇱​​🇱​​🇴​​🇼​ ​🇹​​🇭​​🇪​ ​🇼​​🇮​​🇸​​🇭​ ​🇴​​🇫​ ​🇹​​🇭​​🇮​​🇳​​🇪​ ​🇭​​🇪​​🇦​​🇷​​🇹​, ​🇦​​🇳​​🇩​ ​🇹​​🇦​​🇰​​🇪​ ​🇹​​🇭​​🇪​ ​🇭​​🇦​​🇳​​🇩​ ​🇹​​🇭​​🇴​​🇺​ ​🇸​​🇪​​🇪​​🇸​​🇹​ ​ 🇷​​🇪​​🇫​​🇱​​🇪​​🇨​​🇹​​🇪🇩​ ​🇮​​🇳​ ​🇹​​🇭​​🇪​ ​🇱​​🇴​​🇴​​🇰​​🇮​​🇳​​🇬​ ​🇬​​🇱​​🇦​​🇸​​🇸​.

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​🇹​​🇦​​🇰​​🇪​ ​🇨​​🇦​​🇷​​🇪​ ​🇹​​🇴​ ​🇳​​🇪​​🇻​​🇪​​🇷​ ​🇱​​🇪​​🇹​ ​🇬​​🇴​ ​🇴​​🇫​ ​🇹​​🇭​​🇦​​🇹​ ​🇭​​🇦​​🇳​​🇩​…

A cold, oppressive darkness surrounded you. The air was thick, the sort of mustiness that aged wood would have, accompanied with a faint earthiness. Your fingers brushed against smooth, polished surfaces, The sudden pungency of turpentine invaded your senses. Your fingers brushed against smooth, polished surfaces as panic rose in your chest--walls, too close, confining, trapping. You felt your hands hitting the surfaces, anything, desperate to be let out. The sharp creak of hinges jarred your hearing, and suddenly, bright light spilled into your world as the heavy lid of the coffin swung open.

You gasped, lungs heaving, desirous for the cool, slightly perfumed air of the grand chamber you now faced. There were coffins--floating coffins-- and mirrors and all sorts of gothic structure impeding upon your small figure. The hall of seated robed figures did little to ease your nerves.

As you stumbled out of the coffin, your legs wobbled beneath you, and your eyes slowly adjusted to the lighting of the ornate room. It wasn't as bright as you originally thought. Before you could dwell on it (or anything else) for much longer, the sharp tap of boots against the stone floor drew your attention towards a figure descending a rather grand staircase. He wore a long, sweeping cloak that shimmered much like a raven's feathers. The mask he donned on his face obscured everything except for a glint of a golden glow in place of his eyes.

"Oh, honestly! You can't come through your gate unbidden. It's unheard of!" His voice carried a theatrical splendor, not unlike a stage actor reveling in his role. "What an impatient one you must be. Allow me to introduce myself: I am Dire Crowley, the esteemed headmage of this illustrious academy, Night Raven College!" He spread his arms wide as though expecting applause.

He received none.

"Though it appears we have a latecomer tonight," he added, tone dripping with dramatic mystery. His piercing gaze locked onto yours, sending a shiver down your spine. "As a headmage, I cannot have such tardiness tarnishing the reputation of my fine institution. It is about time we begin the orientation." You stare at the man, wide-eyed and more panicked, clutching the sleeves of your coat.

"Wait--orientation? What are you talking about? Where even am I?" The words tumbled out of you in a rush, your heartbeat racing as the reality of the bizarre situation hit you like a wave. Crowley's expression softened into one of faux sympathy, though his tone remained the same manner of theatrical smugness he'd been sporting all this while.

"Ah, poor thing, so confused! But there's no time for questions. Quickly, quickly now! Follow me and do try to keep up!" He spun on his heel, his cloak billowing dramatically as he strode away, leaving you scrambling to your feet and mutter a frantic "What the hell is going on?"

At that moment, glass shattered, followed by a strange sound--an odd mix of a growl and a high-pitched cackle. Before you could even glance around for its source, a small creature landed squarely in front of you and the headmage. The creature in question appeared to be a cat. If cats could stand on their hind legs, talk, and were engulfed in blue flames, that is. "HOLD IT! EVERYONE, JUST STOP!"

Your earlier panic evolved into steadfast confusion as the creature started yelling once more. "Outta my way, human! I'm the Great Grim," he snarled, puffing up his chest twice his size. "And I'm gonna be the number one student at this school, got it?" His fiery tail flicked with determination, but his bold declaration faltered as his gaze actually settled upon you.

"Oh my god, a talking Tanuki!?" You exclaimed.

"That's why you're stunned!?" The talking cat cried out. "And I'm NOT a Tanuki!! I am a monster who will become a great mage! I am the illustrious Grim!"

The hall was overtaken by the robe-clad figures bursting out in laughter at the not-Tanuki creature. If you were in a better situation, you might have even felt bad for Grim, hearing the students laugh about how a monster could never become a mage.

But alas, you had yourself to worry about right now.

Grim screamed "What was that!? If that's how it's gonna be, I'll show you the special magic I've been saving!!"

And then the whole place erupted in flames.

You genuinely couldn't keep up with whatever was happening any more-

It seemed Grim was so overwhelmed with the intent to prove to others his power that he didn't stop and think for a second about the damage his fire-spewing was causing. You felt the flames lick your feet and yelped, jumping back, closer to the headmage.

One student (as you now realized they all were) was seated at the front of the hall--who was clearly some sort of bigshot (if the pedestal he and his friends sat on were any indication)--muttered in a bored manner, "He's giving us quite a show."

The orientation hall was pure chaos. Grim's flames were only growing larger by the second, and students were scrambling out of their seats, trying to dodge the scorching flames licking dangerously close to the velvet curtains, ornate banners, and more importantly - them. "I told ya, I'm the greatest mage there is!" Grim bellowed, his tail swishing wildly. Just as the flames threatened to engulf the podium, a commanding voice cut through the raucous and pandemonium.

"Enough." A boy with red hair stood from his seat, his blueish-grey cold and focused. Holding a pen which held a giant jewel, he waved his pen, uttering the words "Are you ready for your sentence? The verdict comes afterwards. Off with your head!"

Grim's flames extinguished in an instant. The hall was left in a haze of the remnants of the heat that consumed it just seconds prior, and the only sound that could be heard was the shuffling of robes. The red-haired boy adjusted his cuffs, his gaze sharp as he assessed Grim.

"What the heck? What is this collar?" Grim pawed at the strange collar that now rested around his neck. It held heart motifs, and seemed impossible to remove, if Grim's thrashing was anything to go by.

"Stop fighting it, cat."

"Arrgh, I can't get it off!" This time, I'm gonna roast you alive for real! FRMEOOOOW!"

You instinctively shielded yourself from the flames that Grim spouted, mentally preparing yourself for the imminent heat once more.

Except, there was no heat.

There were no flames either.

Nothing at all.

The other students looked just as confused, and Grim tried over and over to unleash his flames. But all that was left was a cat coughing.

"My magic! I can't breathe my fire!" Grim exclaimed.

"Naturally." The red-haired boy remarked. "I sealed your magical energy with my magic spell."

Your head felt heavy and dizzy, and it was hard to keep up with all the events being thrown at you rapid-fire (pun not intended). The hall erupted into applause, with both students and the Headmage showering the boy with praise for his quick thinking and mastery of magic. But you? You were barely processing anything at all. Your head spun even more, your chest tightening as you tried to make sense of the chaos.

Magic existed--actual magic!

And you'd just seen it firsthand.

The weight of it pressed down on you as you dropped to the ground, your legs finally giving away, as your surroundings blurred into an overwhelming whirl of cacophony and decaying heat.

Before you could fully gather yourself, the boy who had quelled the flames stormed towards you, his cold eyes blazing with fury. "You!" He seethed, "Do you have any idea the level of disrespect you've shown here today? Causing such a disruptive scene at the orientation--it's a blatant insult to the Queen of Hearts! This level of recklessness is unacceptable!"

As his tirade grew sharper with each word, the pressure of his gaze felt like it was crushing you. Your breath hitched, and the world around you began to spin--his voice became a distant echo as panic once more surged through your chest. The room felt like it was closing in, even though you were no longer in that god horrid coffin. You couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't focus. Your vision blurred, and the noise around you was deafening, and you felt yourself shrinking under the sheer force of his outrage, your body trembling in response.

It was when he shouted, "You will lose your head!" that the weight of his words became too much to bear, and you finally succumbed to the overwhelming lull of unconsciousness.

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

Author's Note: I hope you guys liked the first chapter! I had a lot of fun writing this, and I am genuinely super excited for this series. I'm basing the timeline off both the game, the manga, as well as some creative liberty on my part. As of right now, I'm still deciding who the main love interest should be (but it's so difficult because I'm having a really hard time choosing between the characters). Let me know what you guys think, and as future chapters are published, let me know what theories you guys have! If you would like to be added to the taglist, just let me know, and I'll be sure to add you. Taglist: @atomatoho3, @phaoscuro, @viviennevermillion, @achy-boo, @savanaclaw1996, @chroniccorvus, @rose-the-witch1, @hanafubukki Masterlist

[rubyvhs]

who’d believe? | dean winchester

summary. dean finds you six years after you ‘died’. tags. wc 2.3k, car sex (just fingering), angst, mentions soulless sam. lailas notes. actually got inspired by @little-diable ‘s not a ghost fic. so so beautiful and i think everyone should go read it! additionally this is for my 500 celebration, so happy i got to it so quickly && the title is the translation of the song title. and most importantly, beta’d by the incredible @copperboom82 who made it much more readable and enjoyable.

You were never really a bar type of person, mostly because of the loud noise and smell, other than that, you liked a good party. But you decided you needed to celebrate getting your dream job, or, okay, whatever, your friend is forcing you to. 

"I'm not taking no for an answer," she said, handed you your outfit and went outside to get the car started, not even giving you time to reject the idea. Though the second you stepped foot in the lively place, you were glad you came.

The drinks and music were exactly what you needed; a nice night out with no responsibilities. And especially no men (at least none like those you work with, you're honestly over them). 

An hour into dancing with your friend, two more strangers join you. When the last song ends and another less 'pop' and more 'rock' one starts, they suggest going out to smoke for a second. Despite not once in your life trying it, you agree. 

You should really work on saying no.

Thankfully you're sensible enough to refuse when they try to hand you one, just standing next to them, linking your arm with your friend's. "Where do you work?" You ask one of the girls. She has shorter red hair that almost reaches her shoulders, black eyeliner and a septum piercing. In other words? Fucking sexy.

"Police." Your eyes widen and you stand up straighter. "Oh, stop it! You're fine."

You laugh but shake your head, "No, no, that's not what I meant, you're just so— cute, I guess. Wouldn't have taken you for the assertive cop type."

"Yeah, well," she shrugs, dismissing the thought. It's obvious she gets it a lot. "Saw the hottest guys today, by the way—"

Her friend interrupts, beautiful brown pin-straight hair, pale skin, a gorgeous smile; "God, he was pretty. And his brother too…”

"Oh yeah. Agent something and Agent whatever, I don't remember, I was too busy looking through the shorter one’s shirt." You all laugh, a sway in your demeanor. You're pretty sure it's the alcohol that's got them saying all this but it's funny either way. 

"Yeah, he was amazing. Like, those green eyes, honestly—" Your smile drops fast. Green eyes had always been somewhat of a trigger for you ever since Dean, especially that specific beautiful shade. Then again honestly everything's been a trigger: hunting, black cars, vintage cars, food, pie— you could go on.

"Oh and the way he walks? The little outward bounce of his leg, so cute!"

You shift, a little uncomfortable. How many guys do you know with bow legs, green eyes and are cops? They're probably not allowed to tell you he's FBI. 

The red-haired girl touches your arm making you jump. "Shit, you okay, honey? You seemed out of it."

"Oh, no, I'm sorry, just reminded me of someone. Old…" Dean. 

There he is. Alive and in the flesh. You don't become a hunter and not hear about the Winchesters, you, on the other hand, fly under the radar. Especially since you try to stay away from any and all hunters.

But you heard nothing of how gorgeous he has grown up.

The girls catch your drift mid-sentence and look back to see what you're staring at. A dumb-struck Dean. "Oh! Agent…" Her friend elbows her stomach and Dean doesn’t peel his eyes off of you to speak.

"Right, yes. Hi, Officer." 

She blushes under the dim light but Dean apologizes before breezing past them and holding your arm roughly to drag you away behind the bar. Your friend makes sure to motion to you if you need help before you let her know she should just get back inside. It’s pretty damn obvious you know the guy.

"Are you fucking serious?"

You let out a shy smile, "Dean, hey, how are you?"

"'How are you?'" He mocks, letting go of your arm aggressively, "'how are you?'"

"Is that not what they say anymore?"

"Are you serious?" He seems to enjoy repeating sentences much more than when you last saw him. "I looked for you, I mourned you." You mourned him too, in a way. 

You and Dean were acquaintances, occasionally hunting together until you stayed at Bobby's place for a week and he came to visit coincidentally. You both started talking more that night, exchanged phone numbers and became somewhat friends. 

Sam left for Stanford and you guys stayed together more frequently. Sam came back and you 'died'. Not on purpose, obviously, but Dean thought you died. You did, for a second, before you were brought back for some twisted, fucked up reason. Not that you knew it but if you did you're sure it would be fucked up.

By the time you woke up Sam and Dean had been long gone and your body had been buried. Didn’t burn your bones like he should’ve, no. He buried you. You're not sure which is worse.

"Look, I don't know what happened—"

"What does that even mean? You magically come back to life; you fucking call me! Ever thought of that?" A thousand times. 

But Sam had finally decided to come back and hunt with Dean, Dean buried you, and so, you'd reasoned he was fine. You knew that if you were Sam, your body would've been preserved in the Impala for months before he'd ever allow himself to do that, to put you six feet under. The fact that he didn’t hold on to you had to mean he was okay.

But neither of you deserve more guilt. "I'm sorry, Dean."

"That's really rich. Real rich comin' from you. Grieved you for goddamn years. Six." Huh, that's a lot longer than you’d have thought. You were sure it would be six minutes. You knew he cared about you, but Deans also a 'what's done is done' kind of man.

"I'm—"

"If you apologize, I'll kill you. Again." You're about to crack a joke but his glare sets you off. Oookay, tough crowd, whatever. 

"I wanted to call, I swear I did," how do you explain to the king of 'I don't deserve good' that you don't deserve him. He'll think it's a cruel joke. "I didn't know if you'd want me to reach out, I thought you were moving on with Sammy, okay? Going on with finding John. Me calling wouldn't have made a difference."

He scoffs, shaking his head. "I went to hell." You bite your bottom lip between your teeth. He sighs, a mix of emotions on his face. "You knew?" Your nod makes him turn around in anger (disappointment? hurt?), kicking the cardboard box as far as it'll go, another plastic one breaks and you flinch at that one. 

In your defense, everyone knows.

"I couldn't do that to you and Sam, you moved on, Dean, I heard about you and Lisa and Ben—"

"Where the hell did you hear that?" Hunters talk. And he knows it. He turns around in an angry haze. "I didn't fuckin' move on, alright? I did what Sam wanted me to do when I didn't have you. Because my goddamn brother was in a cage with Lucifer, and now he's walking around without a soul!" He raises his voice until it gives out and so does his breath. You can't help the way your heart clenches, not even because of the words, but the tired look behind Dean's eyes. 

Subconsciously, you move forward until you can hug him, and like he always used to: Dean throws himself into it, his head in your neck as he breathes you in. "I missed you." He whispers. 

You don't believe how easily he's adjusted to this. If you were in his place you wouldn't hesitate to kill him, thinking he's a demon or a shifter.

He chuckles, his whole body rubbing against you. "Haven't hugged anyone like this in— ever. Was waiting for you." 

He's never been safe, always made everyone else feel protected, you could only hope you built a safe place within yourself for him. You're at least close.

"I missed you too, De. Every single day, I swear."

You don't know what about the sentence sparks anything in him, but it does. He pulls away to smirk and push you against the hard wall. You gasp, doing nothing but turning him on more and giving him an entrance to your mouth. 

He kisses you like he's lost his mind. He has.

His touch is electric as he pulls you closer, the heat of his body searing your skin, the raw intensity of desire saying more than words ever could. The kiss evolves, turning feral, almost carnal. He holds you, firm but tender, and rediscovers your mouth like a starving man. He is, he hasn't tasted you in… ever. 

This is your first kiss with Dean, but the explosive chemistry between you makes the blood scream in your ears. It was never a secret that you and Dean were more than just hunters to each other, and it seems you dying was his last straw. 

"We— Dean, can't here—" 

He agrees. Or he doesn't. He's still kissing you and you're not sure if either of you are breathing. 

Eventually he lets go. "Yeah," he whispers against your lips, moving for another kiss, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth, leaving a peck and panting out, "right." 

"'M sorry." God, why are you apologizing? Why are your bodies so far away?

He shakes his head, moves away (even if it looks like he's struggling to do so), "it's fine, what— you were here with friends? Are you staying?"

"Are you asking me to not stay?" 

He smiles, leans down for another kiss and you decide to say goodbye to your friends now or else you're never getting the chance. 

"De, someone can see—"

"Don't overthink it." He says, burying his head between your breasts, kissing, biting, licking and loving all the noises you're making. He groans into your skin, nipping at a particularly sensitive spot that has you moaning out loud. "God, sweetheart, love that sound."

He moves his hands to your waist, thrusts his hips once, checking your reaction. A little tremor passes through you. Eyes hood over. 

"Can't believe you're here, and all for me." 

"Yes," you breathe, resting your forehead against Dean's, overwhelmed by his words and how close his hand is to your inner thigh. "Please."

"If I slide my hand up your skirt, will I find you dripping wet for me?" Another shudder shakes you gently. 

"Yes."

When he grips your knee and your neck, closing your lips with a kiss while his other hand travels higher, you start feeling your pulse hammering in your ears. The windows start misting over, giving you privacy— not that you particularly believe Dean cares. 

Dean moves his seat back, then pushes you until your shoulder blades hit the steering wheel so you're more comfortable, your legs bent on either side of him, hands braced against the door and his chest. 

"Dreamed about this," He says, his voice low and husky. The way his eyes are raking over your body, you're not even sure you're supposed to hear him. "Thought about this everyday for six years, sweetheart. Now I get to have you." 

He glides one finger between your lips, sliding up and down slowly. “Such a pretty pussy,” he groans, eyes focused between your legs and you fall over, your head on his chest, before he pushes you back against the steering wheel, "nu-uh, wanna see it. Wanna see how wet you are for me, baby."

You have so much to say— a lot of apologies and 'I miss you's’ and so many more beautiful words and kisses and you want to tell Dean that you care about him as much as he does you and why you left—

He dips two fingers inside you. Curls them immediately, and just like that, he finds your most sensitive spot. 

You half pant, half moan, the words 'Dean, oh my god, please' a jumbled drowned-out mishmash because he starts torturing your clit, his thumb rubbing perfect circles, hard and fast, reducing your bones to liquid. But when you're right there, he eases away, lazily pumping two fingers in and out. 

He smiles, exhaling a content breath as his gaze zeroes between your thighs, ignoring your pleas. "Yeah? you wanna come, darlin’?" the pet name and the question both bring out a loud moan you didn’t know you were holding, your hips involuntarily moving against his fingers until he stops you. you’re about to whine again but he increases the pace, crooking his fingers inside you while his thumb rubs your clit, and that’s all it takes.

The orgasm rips through you, powerful, relentless, so intense you think you might just black out. You’ve never felt so boneless in someone's arms, until your head falls right into his chest as he works your pussy, the sensation easing off and then coming again like waves crashing against the shore.

Dean doesn't stop. His fingers are rough, his thumb still being put to good use, and the release lasts so long. So fucking long you think you have an out-of-body experience. 

It takes a minute until you're able to breathe anything but his cologne. When you can, you sit up slightly and move into the seat next to him, thankful for the lack of a console to separate you since you don't get very far, just lay your head on his chest. 

He kisses your head. You can even feel his smile against the kiss until you notice the bulge of his pants and frown. You quickly get up and Dean's entire face falls. "I'm sorry, I didn't think—" 

Dean grabs your wrist before it makes it halfway to his dick. "This isn't an exchange, sweetheart." Your entire body is like jelly, you can't move and you're pretty sure if you try sucking Dean off, you’ll pass out. But it feels… rude. "You're spent. I'll get you home so you can take a hot shower, and we'll pick this up again when you're ready. How about that?" 

You can't fucking believe your luck. Dean wants an 'again'. 

[eliashawthorne]

elias smiles, nodding a bit, “you’re not wrong there. it would be so tempting to use that power to visit old memories, or create new ones with your vision versus how they are intended to be created, but the right thing to do would be to use it for some actual good in the world. to make some difference that will affect the lives of millions in a positive way.” he wondered about the possibilities, what he would do. mostly he wondered if he would have the strength to use that power for actual good and not selfish reasons like the ones he stated. he would like to think he would use it for good, but there was no way for him to truly know. “change wouldn’t be too bad in the world. i know they say that people are supposed to die without interruption, but does the same go for blessing the less fortunate? i guess it would, huh?” he tried not to over think it because it’s not like they really had a time turner, tardis, or delorean of any sort of way to go back to the past. but still one did have to wonder.

most of the time when elias was planning future plans, unless they were revolving around someone’s birthday party or something else important, chances were eli was simply just planning. he had wanted to do this type of road trip for some time but had never had anyone who seemed interested in it, and he felt bad asking people to join him. but he was starting to feel like life was passing him by, everyone else seemed to be forming the memories he wished to form too, and he was tired of sitting on the sidelines. at least, in terms of traveling. “i assume they do too. in my head i just picture a very excited employee with a camera hanging around their neck just ready to snap the first picture they can. blinding you with a flash before you even get to step one foot in the actual place. if not, i guess i should invest in a good selfie stick. even if i have a good road trip partner i would feel bad making them my personal photographer, and i would them in the pictures too.” then he could create a nice scrap book of memories, the idea made him smile a bit more. “i will also invest in one of those savings books, you know? the kind that like start at a dollar or something and keep adding on until a certain amount? apparently it’s actually a very helpful tool, if you’re responsible enough. we can definitely make it happen.”

“oh, i bet.” even though he has been out of college for some time he can still remember the mountain of homework and reading he had to do during the semester. and during finals week or midterms? forget about it. he would be buried in a sea of books just reading things ranging from how to properly help a cow give birth all the way to assisting with a delicate surgery. by the end of it all, it was a miracle anything stuck. his smile softens when she says she’s glad for his support, it made him feel good to know he could support the dreams of his friends in one way or another. he grins at her night driving comment, playfully replying, “whaaat. no, of course not.” now summer 2025 had officially gotten exciting and his mind buzzed with all the places they could visit. “i’ll have to check in with my roommates to see if they would mind taking care of mochi while we go off on our adventures. i don’t think mochi would be up for any alien body snatching either, though i have not yet had this type of conversation with him. maybe i should do that tonight and give him the option.” he looks over to her, “just in case he gives me the meow of approval, how do you feel about traveling with a cat? he’s mostly calm, but he does get randomly affectionate and suddenly needs all the head scratches in the world.”

“If you had a time turner, we might be sort of selfish to take that route with it,” she couldn’t help but say thoughtfully. As much as a calm night in with cats seemed like a pretty remarkable way to bring in the end of the year, she couldn’t help but think it might be wrong to have that sort of power and not use it for the good of humanity. “I mean, I know that you’re not supposed to mess with time or you end up changing the whole course of history but if you actually had that power you could literally change anything – I mean, think of the good you could do?” They could literally save lives and prevent wars. They didn’t have time machine, time turners or anything else so they had to settle for here and the now. “I can definitely accept that sort of rain check though. It all worked out in the end. I’ve been honestly struggling to stay awake between me and you. Guess I underestimated my ability to rally tonight.”

It was always fun to think forward and come up with future plans whether she was included or not. When it came to her friends, she was absolutely on board with encouraging whatever their flight of fancy might be. Life was far too short to not do what someone wanted to do. Her arm didn’t have to be twisted hard to do something that didn’t involve studying for her courses or uploading reports about the latest calls that the fire department had responded to. There was only so many times she could read about the fact there were in fact no cat skeletons to be found in trees because they literally always came down with a can of food left at the bottom. “I always assumed the majority of roadside attractions can get you a free photo with a cell phone, the trick is trusting a stranger to take it or having a good road trip partner,” she said with a nod, brushing some of her dark hair from her face. “I feel like summer would be better though you want to schedule it when it’s not tornado season or going to fry you like an egg. It’s definitely doable though. A few bucks aside a week, a few tanks or gas and a dream – we can make it happen.”

“Sometimes, it feels pretty endless,” she admitted. Zarah had her moments where she wasn’t completely sure about the trek she was on. She loved to learn, loved to test hypothesis and see where things went but she hated feeling confined by the structure of it all – the endless lessons, the tests of the knowledge. It sort of zapped the passion out of it. It was a conversation she’d had with her own mother plenty of times since she’d decided to study to be a teacher. “I know it’ll all come together in the end and I’m glad to know I’ll have your support when I get there.” She nodded, letting out a laugh at his formal invite. “I mean, I feel like you might be using me for my night driving skills but I’m in. Since you’re thinking summer, that’ll give me some time to sweet talk my brother to babysitting Marmalade… he’s not a fan of alien body snatching. Marm not my brother. I haven't really asked him, his opinion.”

[dootznbootz]

Cursed thought: The Trojan Horse but you can hear Caramelldansen from inside as the colored lights flash can be seen between the boards.

[nappingpaperclip]

honestly I’m fucking tired of calling my reps and begging them to care

I’ve been calling them over and over and over for the past four months begging and pleading them to speak out about what is obviously genocide

I don’t think they listen, most likely their underpaid interns got instructed to throw notes or voicemails out, but even if they do they don’t fucking care. It’s exhausting.

The White House comment line is only open for 4 hours 4 days of the week during hours most people work. If you’re able to call and wait for 20 minutes to finally speak to an intern they take a brief note and you can only hope they don’t immediately throw it out.

I’ve been doing this since I was a child. begging my reps to care about children being shot in school. begging them to care about my own schools getting bomb and gun threats every year. begging them to care about the fact that people don’t feel safe around cops. begging them to care about the growing number of people in my city becoming jobless and homeless and dying of covid. begging them like a dog to care at all about people’s lives and happiness.

I don’t know. I’m just fuckin’ tired

I won’t give up though. It’s not the only form of activism I do or the main one I give my energy to. I hope the same thing for anyone reading this. You shouldn’t just be boycotting and calling your reps, you should be attending vigils and protests and speaking about the issue of genocide to your friends and family

I’m just tired of people pretending like our representatives actually give a fuck what we think over their lobbyists and investors cause it is and has always been clear to me that they don’t. America has never been a democracy and if you think that you are deluded.

[freebooter4ever]

awww basketball again