#I SAY “SLAPS ME ON THE KNEE” AND “SUCKS ON ICE” BECAUSE OF A MAIN INTEREST!

[eternal-love]

A NONSENSE CHRISTMAS

Pairing: Austin Butler x Female!reader

Summary: Austin is your grumpy boyfriend who doesn’t like your Christmas parties. But he really does like fucking you when people are over.

Warning: smut. Unprotected sex. Oral sex (fem receiving).

Note: it’s the best fucking time of the year. And I wanted to write something for you guys as a Christmas present because I love u guys so much 🫶

Not my best work, but it’s a simple gift.

The gif is of course by @aust-een, my girl. Props to her for helping me with the gif set!!!

It was the best time of the year, at least to you it was. Even the air changed during holidays, you loved the whole concept of holidays. Your family were as obsessed with holidays as you were. Your house became your main focus during your holiday break. You lived in a small but cozy home.

You had been baking cookies when he came to visit you.

‘Thank God I don’t live with her.’ He thought as he walked through the foyer of your house. Filled with garlands and lights. After overly-criticizing your Christmas decor he smiled at the sight of you. “Hey, babe…”

You smiled at him as you stopped putting sprinkles on the cookies. You rushed to him, wrapping your arms around him.

“I thought you wouldn’t come and see me.” You smiled up at him, taking in the scent of his cologne.

“I wouldn’t miss it. And I also brought you what you asked for.” Austin said as he lifted up a bag of chocolate chips.

“God, I love you. Thank you.” You pecked his lips, but with his free hand he held your jaw there as he kissed you back passionately.

After a while, you pulled away. Time was on you, you were holding a small gathering with your girlfriends later that day. He was annoyed by that, he had wanted today to be a date-day. But of course, your girlfriends were always a priority too.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay for the party?” You asked Austin. But then again, it was going to be filled with just women.

“Being surrounded by tipsy women? What a nightmare, baby. I’d rather be locked in the bedroom.” Austin said as he caressed your cheek.

“Rude.” You slapped his chest playfully and he chuckled. You pulled away from him and sat down on the table again, you kept decorating cookies and cupcakes.

“I’m going to lay down in your bed, and watch some shitty tv. While your stupid friends and you watch Home Alone or whatever.” Austin told you, he took a seat right by your side. He reached out for a cookie and shoved it inside his mouth.

The white frosting smearing all over his lips, as if trying to tempt you, he licked his lips and then his fingers, staring right at you.

“What?” He played dumb, he kept sucking his finger to lick any excess of frosting.

“You’re tempting me…” You said, before he leaned in and took your lips in his, his kisses being warm and wet. Instead of butterflies you could say you felt snowflakes, appropriate for the holidays.

He lifted you up and made you sit on the table. He was in between your legs, devouring your mouth. He didn’t even hesitate before kissing down your neck, getting on his knees and parting your legs.

“I bet you’re as sweet as the icing…” Austin muttered as he rode down your underwear.

Oh; Austin ate pussy like a starved man. Like a thirsty man stuck in a dessert, where pussy was the last drop of water.

His plump lips pecked your cunt, then with his skilled tongue, he gave you a long lick. Making you throw your head back. Your hand going to tug at his sandy blond locks. He grunted.

His tongue was skilled, he could move it in ways you didn’t know it was possible.

“Yes… just like that.” You were able to moan out. He kept parting your legs with his hands, griping your thighs as hard as he could. Probably leaving bruises.

It was like he was going down the chimney, and it felt so fucking good. You wouldn’t mind being his Mrs.

You felt yourself getting closer to your release, as your moans began to quicken, whimpering as well. You started to roll your hips forward, if only he had been laying down. You would’ve ridden the fuck out of his face and he would have allowed it, of course. If that meant tasting your cunt, drowning in it was his dream.

You tugged at his hair one more time as you really approached your orgasm. Not wanting him to stop pleasing you, you could only get aggressive.

“Just like that, yeah… don’t stop.” You were able to moan out, grinning your teeth. That’s how worked up he got you.

Austin decided that even if he felt his tongue go numb, numb, numb, he would make you finish. And after a while, you finished all over his face, again, he devoured your cum as a starved man., he pulled away from your cunt and took deep breaths. Before standing up and leaning down to kiss you, making you taste yourself.

“As sweet as I imagined.” He whispered as he pulled away slightly. He was definitely still out of breath.

You were worked up too. A bit dazed still. He had just tongue-fucked you on the table, anyone would be dazed.

“Now, that was on my wishlist.” You chuckled out, smiling at him.

“The stocking are always better on the floor anyways.” Austin smiled, oh, he was horny as hell by now. But your friends would arrive in probably less than thirty minutes. He wouldn’t risk it.

All throughout the party you couldn’t concentrate. Just knowing that Austin was down the hall, doing God-knows-what, probably jacking off while you were here, still turned on. But having to keep a straight face for your friends while they spiked the eggnog.

But at some point you couldn’t handle the ache, the desire, whatever you were feeling. So you sneakily made your way down the hall, you entered your bedroom and Austin was laying there, plain white tee on, his jeans, no shoes. Watching some shitty movie.

“Woah, what are you doing down here?” He asked in confusion, you were never one to leave your own party.

“I want you to fuck me.” You blurted out, as you were quick to start unbuttoning your dress. Austin smirked as he sat up on the bed.

You didn’t even let him speak, you were already on top of him, your lips on a battle against his, grinding against his pelvis, feeling his already growing erection.

You pulled away, he was biting your lower lip. Oh, he adored you.

“You’re gettin’ coal this Christmas.” He groaned. With your free hands, you undid his pants.

Austin was quick to discard his pants and underwear, he didn’t need them anyways. Your underwear’s gone too, the man was a magician, that’s for sure. He sure knew how to take them off.

His hard cock already teased you. Austin had a huge North Pole. And you were thankful for it. Not many women could rejoice on the fact that their man had a big dick. You were the luckiest out of your friends.

You got into position, so horny and wet that you didn’t need anything to make it enter. You were a vixen tonight, and you would take your man for a ride.

As soon as he was slowly entering you, you saw his face contort in pleasure, eyes rolling back in ecstasy.

“Be quiet, you don’t want to ruin your fucking party, don’t you?” Austin said, his jaw clenched as you slowly sat on his cock, he was feeling the warmth of your cunt.

“Mhm…” you whimpered in response, your hands went to his shoulders as his hands went to your waist.

He was so deep in, he thought he would come just by you taking all his cock that good. You started moving your hips, rolling them, riding the hell out of Austin. Quiet moans and grunts escaped the both of you. You had to be quick, you didn’t want your friends to hear you fucking your man.

But Austin, if he could, and if he wanted to ruin your goddamn party, he would’ve fucked you until you were screaming his name.

“Taking me so well.” Austin told you and you rode him. “Poor Santa is going to know you’re a bad girl.”

He mocked your love for the holidays. You didn’t even answer, as you were too concentrated on getting off. The way your face contorted and the way your mouth was open to let out moans and whimpers only made everything more exciting. Also, your friends being down the hall. It was the perfect boost of adrenaline.

“Made specially for me. And no one else.” He moaned, his hands guiding your hips. “I don’t know how I got so lucky with the old man…” he breathed out, oh, he was in heaven. “…so that you ended up being my present.”

Just him saying that pushed you to the edge, but then, with his thumb he started touching your clit. That’s when you knew you were in for a goddamn ride.

He was rough, making you moan louder than you ever wanted to. You were sure your friends heard you.

“Let ‘em hear you. Let them hear how much of a Christmas slut you are. How much you’d rather get…” his voice cracked as you rode him so well, he found himself getting closer and closer. “…fucked by your man than watch your silly movies with them.”

Another loud moan escaped your lips.

“I do rather getting you to f-fuck me…” you whimpered, wrapping your arms around his neck, your breathing on his neck.

“At least you’re warming me up.” Austin grunted, his hands went from your hips to your ass, squeezing it, making you go as deep as possible., his hips bucking up.

That’s when he hit that sweet spot.

“Austin!” You moaned, it was a pornographic moan. One that only a pornstar could do. Yet you were doing it, one calm evening when you’re friends drank hot chocolate in your living room.

Austin started chuckling, he wanted to see you try and act normal once he made you finish.

But soon enough he felt himself getting closer too. He kept bucking his hips until inevitably, he finished inside of you, you rode down your orgasm. Laying your forehead against his.

“Go back, go.” Austin said as he softly shoved you onto the bed.

No after care today. He was still very much annoyed at your Christmas get together.

“But-“ you tried to protest, you could stay here but again, your fucking friends were probably already waiting for you to go back, but they most definitely heard you getting railed.

“You organized this. A host should never leave their invites.” He said with a smirk.

Knowing that what he said was true, with wobbly legs, you tried to put on your dress and act normal. But as soon as you were going to get yo form bed again, he grabbed your arm.

“We’re not finished yet.” He told you.

Of course, it wasn’t over just yet. His package was too big to gift-wrap. He’d probably bed you a thousand more times to be satisfied.

And you wouldn’t even complain, after all, you needed that Charles Dickens like you needed air to breathe.

[goblin-enjoyer]

I swear why are half the things i like/fandoms im in made of mostly younger people while the other half are mostly older people? what are the zoggin odds with that?

How it feels being 20 in a fandom with a bunch of 30-40 somethings.

VS how it feels being 20 in a fandom with a bunch of 14-17 somethings.

like am do i just have extremely odd luck with things i like or is this just what being 20 is like?

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

So as part of my push to fill the world with soft fluff while we all need it, @sparkkeyper requested Aziraphale warming up a cold Crowley. And, well, things got a little out of hand with this bit of hurt/comfort. Also fills the @bingokisses prompt for “Brush of Lips, Almost-There Kiss/Bridal Carry” so that’s exciting!

Not clearly established, but this fic is just-barely-pre Arrangement.

“If that’s the way you feel,” Aziraphale said, hand on the door to his one-room hut, “then I suggest you leave, and find some other angel to bother with your nonsense.

“Good! Maybe I can find one who isn’t a self-righteous prick.”

“I’m terribly sorry,” the apology dripped with sarcasm, “that I choose not to blindly trust a devious…manipulative…snake.”

The words hit like a physical blow. Crowley sucked in a breath, tasting a hint of frost in the late-autumn air. “Fine,” he growled, turning away. He’d have to walk through the night to get back to London, but at just that moment he felt angry enough to march all the way to China and back. “Good riddance,” he snapped from the gate around the little garden, but Aziraphale had already shut the door.

--

“Call me a snake,” Crowley grumbled, pulling the thick black pelt more tightly over his shoulders. He’d thought the wilderness look – loose hair, black fur wrap, boiled leather jerkin belted over his tunic like armor – would make him look intimidating and cool. But as the temperatures dropped with the sunset, he really just wished for a good wool cloak.

“I’m not the one who’s manipulative and…whatever else he said.” The wind shifted, slapping across his face, sending his hair spinning behind him. “Cold-blooded. I’m not cold-blooded.”

He snapped his fingers, summoning a cloak, but the wind immediately ripped it out of his hands. It got caught on a tree branch, just out of reach. “Ah, never mind. Just slow me down anyway.”

Stuffing his hands into his armpits, Crowley marched deeper into the woods. Just follow the path west to the little creek, follow that out of the forest, main road was on the other side. Quickest route to London.

As the last light faded from the sky, the snowflakes began to fall.

--

“Coordinate our activities – of course we can’t coordinate, you fool, we’re doing opposite tasks.”

Aziraphale waved his fingers at the fire, making it burn just a touch brighter, and continued angrily chopping vegetables to drop into the pot of water. “And I certainly can’t just – just tell you what Heaven’s plans are for the north, or for the Holy Roman Empire, or for…for…blast!”

He glowered at the deep cut on his thumb and quickly healed it, an almost blinding burst of holy power. Well, that was probably enough for soup, anyway.

“All I’m trying to say, you foolish creature,” he grumbled, lifting the pot to nestle against the hot stones that circled his hearth, “is that we can’t talk…business when we meet. Is that so hard? Can you not get that one idea in your head?”

The shutters rattled in the wind, one breaking open to crack angrily against the wall. Aziraphale hurried over to push it shut, pausing to look across the dark fields to the woods beyond. Already a mix of snow and freezing rain had turned everything to a muddy slush.

Crowley would be fine. Crowley always found a way to be fine, and more often than not that way involved finagling himself into some comfortable circle where dozens of humans happily did his bidding. And when he couldn’t find that, he came to Aziraphale.

Well. Aziraphale would not – would not be duped into doing Crowley’s work for him.

“Enjoy getting yourself out of this mess,” Aziraphale said, pushing the shutter closed.

--

Bracing himself against a tree, Crowley tried to pull the back of his tunic up to protect his neck. Tiny spears of ice had assaulted it for hours, and he could feel the cold drops worming their way down his spine, soaking into his undertunic. His boots were drenched through, squishing a little with every step.

“Bloody creek,” he grumbled, searching desperately through the ceaseless fall of ice and snow. He should have passed it ages ago. He should be nearly out of the woods, and instead here he was, surrounded by mounds of wet, icy snow as deep as his ankles.

Everything looked strange. Everything looked different. Every rock transformed into something unfamiliar, every tree a shapeless mass of white. He was…

Crowley was lost.

“It’s fine,” he said as the wind shifted and the tree dropped another freezing glob of ice into his hair to ooze down his neck. “It’s bloody fine.” He pushed away from the tree and snapped his fingers, trying to summon a fire.

Nothing.

“Oh, for Sssatan’s sssake!” He pictured a cloak again. Nothing. A windbreak. A pile of blankets. A lantern.

Nothing, nothing, nothing.

With each failed miracle, Crowley felt the panic rise further, which was stupid. The only reason he couldn’t perform them was because he was panicking, so the thing to do was to stop panicking.

Useless, Aziraphale had called him. I don’t know what’s worse, that you come to me to help you with every little thing, or that you do everything in your power to get out of even thinking about working.

No, wait. Aziraphale hadn’t said that, not out loud. But the look in his eyes…it was obvious how he felt. Why wouldn’t he? It was true enough.

“Stop that, stop that!” He marched on through the forest. West. Just keep going west, London had to be somewhere around here. “It’s not my fault. Pointless assignments, impossible tasks, and you, you running around undoing everything I do �� it’s not my fault I can’t get anything done!”

Useless. Failure. Worthless snake.

Had that been Aziraphale? Or Hastur? Or one of the other demons? They all thought the same, didn’t they? They were all right, weren’t they?

“No!” He waved his arms, visualizing a clear path through the slush.

Instead, he slipped on an icy patch and fell, chin cracking against the ground, one arm shoving into a particularly deep mound, filling his sleeve with snow.

“Fuck, fuck.” He scrambled to get purchase, to push himself up, wriggling around on his stomach like—

Like a snake.

“I’m not,” he whispered, but without conviction. “I’m not.”

--

Aziraphale tried to keep himself busy. Cooking, preparing herbs, copying pages out of texts, bits of wisdom that would be carefully left on the right desk at the right time, according to Heaven’s guidance.

He never quite knew when he’d be called to take care of something, never quite knew when Gabriel would announce he was coming down for an inspection. So Aziraphale always had to be ready, always had to look busy. Always had to be sure he was where he was supposed to be.

Maybe Crowley didn’t have to worry about that. Maybe Crowley didn’t have superiors checking in at random intervals, making sure he really had traveled to York, or Venice, or Kiev, or wherever else a bit of Holy assistance was needed. Maybe Crowley’s superiors actually trusted him to get the work done without…(Aziraphale pressed his eyes shut, carefully removing any accusations of micromanagement to the deepest depths of his subconscious)…without their careful direction and helpful input, but that wasn’t the case with Aziraphale.

He sighed and put the manuscript pages back on the bench. It was far too dark for a human to be doing copy work, and rather too dark for an angel. Perhaps he could take a break, just for a few minutes.

It’s always another excuse with you, Crowley had shouted. Well. Not shouted, but the words had hit him just the same.

But they weren’t excuses, they were – a thousand perfectly valid reasons why he couldn’t…couldn’t let Crowley interfere with his work, and yes perhaps some of them contradicted each other, but that wasn’t Aziraphale’s fault and…

“No, stop that.” He rose to his feet. Needed to keep busy. “A bit more water from the well. Better to be prepared.” The villagers often came up, looking for medicines, for advice, for a bit of food more varied than their usual diet (Aziraphale could miracle up fresh spices and vegetables any time of year, and that wasn’t…entirely cheating). Bad weather usually kept them away, but likely it would all clear up by morning.

He opened the door.

The wind that blasted Aziraphale’s face sent him staggering back. A fistful of mixed snow and rain hit him in the face, somehow colder than ice. By now, he ground was covered almost knee-deep in some places, and he could barely see the fence from where he stood, never mind the well.

“Oh…”

But, surely, Crowley had made it back to London by now.

Surely.

--

He had to keep moving.

Crowley huddled below a tree, knees pulled up to his chest, fingers wrapped around the back of his neck, trying to shield himself from the weather.

He shivered so hard his teeth nearly cracked, his ribs ached, and he felt sick to his stomach. Stupid mammal bodies, weren’t they supposed to retain heat?

He couldn’t feel his toes. The boots were packed with snow from trying to push through drifts. He couldn’t feel his fingers. He moved them back inside the pelt wrap again, pressing them into his already-wet tunic. The boiled leather jerkin clung to him like…well, like only leather could, getting stiff where he needed it to flex, getting soft where he needed it to stay rigid. Bloody useless.

Clenching his eyes tight, Crowley braced against another blast of wind, cutting through his layers like a dagger. What was the point of all this clothing if it didn’t help?

Some part of his mind kept reminding him to move. Not time to burrow yet, not time to conserve energy. Movement would create heat, warm him up.

No it won’t, argued the part of his mind that would never not be a snake. Moving uses heat. Stay. Conserve. Burrow down and wait for the sun.

“D-d-d-doesn’t matter,” Crowley groaned. “N-n-nowhere to go.”

His joints locked up, skin trying to pull itself away from the damp clothing pressed against it. He was tired. Mammal and serpent, both so tired.

No. He had to keep moving.

Crowley wasn’t sure how he managed to get his feet under him, managed to take the first shuffling, stumbling steps.

West. He was supposed to go west. Whichever way west was.

He picked a likely direction and started moving.

--

Was that hail pounding on the thatch? Or was the rain that strong?

Aziraphale waved the fire stronger, almost enough to over-boil the pots of soup arranged around the outside.

He didn’t really need that much soup. It just. Kept him busy.

--

The sun rose just as Crowley reached the edge of the woods.

It hurt to lift his head, to shift the muscles that had been hunched and braced against the cold for so long. The brightness of the sky hurt his eyes.

At some point, it had stopped snowing. He didn’t know when, his skin was completely numb. Wasn’t even shivering anymore. It was nice, in a way. Just the comforting darkness all around.

Now even that was gone, but he could look around the endless ocean of…snow was too strong a word, it was really slush…under the blood-red of the sunrise.

He wasn’t lost anymore. The hill, there to the right, the hut on top of it –

That was Aziraphale. He’d gone in a bloody circle.

I suggest you leave, and find some other angel to bother with your nonsense.

Fuck.

Aziraphale wouldn’t want to hear it. He’d wonder why Crowley hadn’t just miracled himself to safety, and he didn’t have the strength to explain that he didn’t have the strength. He knew his miracles had failed in the night – that he hadn’t been able to focus. Couldn’t remember exactly why.

Couldn’t really focus now.

Aziraphale wouldn’t want to help. He’d still be angry over the things Crowley said. Still be stuck in his holier-than-though me-versus-you mindset. Probably want to send Crowley away.

But Crowley would never make it to London now. Might not even make it up the hill.

He pushed himself forward.

I can do this, Crowley grumbled at himself. Just need a plan.

Aziraphale would let him in. He just needed a really clever argument to convince the angel first. Tempt him, trick him. Make him think helping Crowley would somehow help himself? No, that wouldn’t work. Maybe threaten to cause trouble in the village? Though he could hardly look capable of it in this state.

He stumbled through the gate – half-open, and held in place by a mound of ice that crunched under his feet. Just a few more steps to the door.

Well. Looked like Crowley would be going with his favorite plan: winging it.

He tried to knock on the door, but his arms had stopped obeying him, his hands wouldn’t budge from where he’d tucked them in his armpits. He tried kicking the door, but the snow and slush piled in a drift almost up to his knees, so he only succeeded in making a wet crunching sound.

The wind shifted again, another volley of ice, and the last of his heat was stripped away.

He was going to discorporate here, literal inches from safety. He was going to wake up in Hell and spend the next decade trying to convince his superiors to give him another body after he’d been so careless with this one. Worthless, stupid snake…

“Aziraphale,” he tried to call, throat too raw to make a sound, his jaw irrevocably clenched. He surged his whole body forward, smashing his shoulder against the door. “Angel! C’n see…smoke…lemme in…”

The door vanished in front of him so quickly, Crowley nearly tumbled through it. Barely managed to wedge his shoulder against the door frame to keep himself upright.

“Oh, my word!”

Blinking the ice out of his eyes, Crowley could see the look of shock and horror on Aziraphale’s face. Knew he wouldn’t want me here.

“G-g-got caught,” he managed, struggling to unclench his jaw. “Sssssstorm.” It was more a puff of steam wrapped around a vowel than a word.

“But – you – that was hours ago!”

“Nrf.” Something was spilling out the door, like a wave of…the opposite of pressure. As if the air was somehow lighter, easier to move in. So close. Just had to convince Aziraphale. “Look. ‘Ngel.”

“Enough. I don’t want to hear it.”

“B…” He shook his head, long, slow, dizzy loops as he tried to clear his mind. “Jus’lissen. Yer side…I mean, my side…”

“Don’t start on that now.” There was that stubborn edge to his voice. No point in arguing.

“Fffffine.” Another white puff filled the air between them and he tried to turn, one shuffling step at a time. He was still upright, that had to be good, maybe he could make it to the village before—

“No, you ridiculous—! Get in.”

“Wah…?”

Aziraphale grabbed the back of his fur wrap and hauled him through the door, kicking it shut behind him.

Something prickled across Crowley’s skin. It must be the heat, but he couldn’t feel it. Not really. The blinding light of the morning sun reflecting off the white landscape had been replaced with the cozy darkness of a shuttered hut, fire burning low in the hearth at the center. Oil lamps burnt here and there, giving a cheerful glow that reflected off the brass cookware, the earthenware pots tucked close to the fire, then bench covered in parchment, the neat white linen of the bed.

Then Crowley did feel something: the ice trapped in layers of clothing melting, sliding down, soaking further into his tunic. He bit back a groan.

“Come along, move faster.” One hand still clutching his furs, the other pressed into the small of Crowley’s back, propelling him forward.

“I c’n walk,” Crowley griped, but before he could even finish forming the words, he was in front of the fire, being pushed firmly down to sit on the floor.

“Yes, I’m sure you can, you always make such a display of it.” Aziraphale crouched beside him, brow furrowed. “Look at you. Look at your hair.”

“S’wrong wi’m’hair?” Aziraphale reached behind Crowley’s ear and pulled out an almost fist-sized lump of snow. “Oh. Nice trick.”

“Don’t be…Crowley, this is serious!” He grabbed Crowley’s chin in both his hands, ran thumbs across his cheeks, then pressed a palm to his forehead. “You’re too cold.” Cupped his hands around Crowley’s ears. “Not frozen, at least, but…couldn’t you at least wear a hood?”

“Nah. M’hair’s too good.” He tried to toss his head, despite Aziraphale’s grip, and he heard the splat of more snow working loose. “Lost it. Cloak. Wind.”

“And you didn’t just – just miracle yourself to safety?”

“Nrrrrrrgh.” Crowley bent his head, ready for the recriminations. He could stand them. Probably. Long as he didn’t have to meet Aziraphale’s eyes.

Aziraphale ran his hands across the thick pelt, scraping through melting snow, which still clung thick enough to turn it white. “My dear fellow,” he said, voice strangely soft. “If you were in trouble, you should have…have come back.”

Crowley’s head jerked up, searching for Aziraphale’s face. It was hard to focus but, yes, his eyes, not angry. Something else.

“Didn’think…y’wanted me…”

“Crowley…” Aziraphale shut his eyes for a moment, but his fingers sprang into action, twisting the furs free to drop in a pile behind the demon.

“Wha…Angel, what’re you…”

“Isn’t it obvious? Trying to warm you up.” He grabbed the heavy pelt with one hand and tossed it aside, as easily as if it were made of cotton. “It’s hard enough to heal a demon with holy power in the best of times, but if you’re too numb to even tell me if it hurts…”

“M’not.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” His hand rested on Crowley’s elbow, tracing it up to where one hand tucked into his armpit. Aziraphale tugged, but the hand didn’t come loose. “Crowley, please. We don’t have time for you to be petty.”

“S’nice coming from you,” he grumbled, and tried to shift his arms. “Can’t. Too cold.”

Aziraphale tugged at Crowley’s arms, rocking him in place, and made a noise of dismay. “Your clothes are soaked through! Of course, all that walking.” He turned to Crowley’s boots, started tugging them off. “You’ll be lucky if you still have feet under here.”

“M’fine. M’a snake. Don’ need feet.”

“You’re delirious.” Aziraphale jerked the first boot off Crowley’s foot, water and ice pouring out of it. He tugged off the wool wrapped around Crowley’s foot and ankle and inspected his toes. “Not black, at least. I think you’ll be fine. Can you feel this?” He breathed out heavily.

“Nnnnh.” Was that a little curl of warmth across the back of his foot? Or was he just imagining it? “Not delirious,” he added. “You called me snake. Las’time. Other thing, too. Untrustworthy.”

“Did I?” He started on the other boot. “Well, you can hardly blame me, Crowley, an agent of Hell repeatedly asking me to – to neglect my duties. What am I supposed to think?”

Crowley groaned. He didn’t want to argue. Couldn’t argue. Some of the feeling was returning to him, along the side closest to the fire, but that just made him feel colder. More miserable.

“Look, I know you’re tempting me, Crowley. I don’t know what your goal is, but I’m aware of what’s going on.” The second boot came off, and Aziraphale began unwrapping his foot. “I…I may have been…harsh. Defensive. But I’m just…trying to be cautious. You’re very good at what you do.”

“You think I’m g-good?” Odd, he couldn’t actually feel the grin on his face, but he could hear it in his voice.

“Hmmm, no. Obviously not. Demon and all that. But you are very clever.” He stretched Crowley’s feet out towards the fire, stopping them just shy of the ring of stones. The flames, Crowley noticed, didn’t feel very hot. “There. Let those warm for a moment.”

“You…” Crowley shook his head. Wished he could focus. “C-called me w-w-worthless. Ffffailure.”

“I most certainly did not!” He rested his hands on Crowley’s arms again, but they still wouldn’t relax. “I never said anything of the kind. Why would you even think such a thing?”

“Fine. You th-thought it.” Was he shivering again? Or were his lungs just seizing up?

“No. I didn’t. Truly, Crowley, I have never thought that of you.” He moved behind Crowley, crouching down, wrapping fingers around his narrow waist, tugging him slowly back. Away from the fire. “I have the utmost respect for what you do, even if I disagree with all of it, both your methods and your goals. I cannot deny that you are effective, that you get results even when you hardly do any work at all. I do not think you’re a failure. Or worthless. Nothing could be farther from the truth.”

Crowley stared ahead at the fire, which kept flaring up, brighter, redder. Tried to wriggle his toes. One of them stirred a little.

“How is that? Too hot?”

“Nah.” The shivers seemed to have faded, leaving him just tense. Hard to breathe. And move. “Not hot’a’tall. Some’n wrong wi’ your fire.”

Before he knew what was happening, Aziraphale’s arms wrapped fully around Crowley, and pulled the demon back into his lap. He gasped out a protest, even as soft arms crossed over Crowley’s and large hands rubbed at his biceps.

“Just what I was afraid of,” Aziraphale murmured, voice close to his ear. “You’re very, very cold. So cold you don’t realize it.”

“Aziraphale—! I don’t need you to…to…”

“Come, my dear fellow. You know you do. You wouldn’t have come to me otherwise.”

Long, slow movements of Aziraphale’s hands up and down his arms. He could feel the heat of them, of the chest pressed into his back. Better than fire. “M-m-maybe I’m t-tempting you.”

“No.” His grip slid once more to Crowley’s wrists and with a little pressure his hands popped free of his armpits, feeling damp and oddly distant. Aziraphale took one, then the other, giving them a few slow rubs each. “No, I know when someone is…truly in pain. You can’t fake that.” He hooked his chin over Crowley’s shoulder, bringing his fingers closer to blow on them, one hand, then the other. “And as you well know, I won’t turn away anyone in pain.”

“Do I know that?” He was feeling strangely tired. Well. Not strange, all that walking all morning, but it wasn’t the normal exhaustion. It tugged from somewhere deeper.

“Why else would you come here, even though you were angry at me?”

“N-n-nowhere else to g-go.” He leaned back a little, soaking in the warmth. “’Sides. M’not angry. C-can’t stay m-mad’t’you.” The movement of Aziraphale’s hands against Crowley’s slowed, briefly. “Y’r mad’t’me.”

“Am I?”

“Called m-me sssssnake.”

“I…But I always call you…serpent. Foul fiend. All sorts of things.”

“S’different.” He didn’t know how to explain it. How serpent was clever, chaotic Crowley, slithering around, outsmarting his opponents; but snake was stupid, useless Crawly, begging for his life, cowering in fear, hiding from every failure. Aziraphale couldn’t understand. He didn’t have two selves – a true one he tried to project, a wrong one that everyone saw anyway.

But even still. It hurt.

“I see.” One of Aziraphale’s hands dropped to rest against his stomach. “But you aren’t angry? That I sent you away like that?”

“Naaaah. Yer’n’angel. Gotta ssssay th-th-things like that.” Aziraphale still held one hand, thumb rubbing circles on his palm. Crowley wiggled the fingers of the other, and smiled to see them move. “Just…wish you’d trust me.”

“Why?”

“Cuz I trust you.” He tried to squeeze Aziraphale’s hand, but his fingers still moved stiffly, like twigs on a frost-covered tree. “I like you.”

Now both of Aziraphale’s hands were at his waist, pressing him back. It was nice. “Do you mean that, Crowley? Do you trust me?”

“Course.” Crowley turned his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder and found the angel’s face alarmingly close. His eyes were right there. His lips. Right there. “N-nerrer trusted anyone b’fore. N-not a lotta trust in Hell. Erryone’ll b-b-betray you.” He smiled, or at least he thought about smiling. No telling what expression his face wore. “You, too. You’ll b-betray me. S’fine. Don’ mind. J-j-just hope I see it comin.”

“Crowley…”

They were right there. Crowley thought of leaning forward just a little. See if that heat was in Aziraphale’s lips, too. Drink it in. Warm him from the inside.

“But even so. Yeah. I trust you.”

Aziraphale took a deep, shuddering breath. “Good.” His hands grabbed at Crowley’s belt and began to unbuckle it, loosening the leather jerkin. “You need to take your clothes off. Now.”

“Oh. Oh.” He dropped a hand to pat Azirphale’s…something…missed entirely, anyway, and landed in the dirt. “Angel’s g-gonna tempt me.”

“Stop that, you ridiculous…” He huffed out his annoyance. “Crowley, your clothing is soaked through and it’s making you colder. Let me help you out of it and into the bed.”

“You g-gonna j-j-join me?” He’d only said it to make Aziraphale uncomfortable, indignant. He really liked those little huffs. Instead, he was only met with silence. “Aziraphale?”

“Crowley…you’re always a little cold. Barely produce enough heat even when you aren’t…” He’d unwrapped the soaking leather, and one hand clutched at the hem of Crowley’s tunic. “No, I won’t. Not if it will make you uncomfortable. You can keep your clothes on, too, if you prefer. There are other ways to warm you up.”

“Oh.” He wished he could see Aziraphale’s face. “D-don’t mind. Ssssaid I trust you. Meant it.”

“You…ah…”

“Gonna haf’ta c-c-carry me tho. M’feet’re…” He tried wriggling his toes again, succeeded in flexing his whole foot together. “Do what you gotta. Trust you.”

He hadn’t realized how awful the tunic felt, clinging to his ribs and back, until Aziraphale peeled it off over his head, ran his hands quickly over damp skin. The rest followed soon after, and Crowley felt…not warmer. Lighter. As if some burden had been removed.

Aziraphale slipped on arm under his knees, the other around Crowley’s back, and lifted him easily, carrying him across the little hut to lay him on the bleached-white linens of the bed.

“S’nice,” Crowley murmured, as Aziraphale found more blankets to pile on him. Miracled up? Possibly. Lucky bastard.

“Oh. Ah. Glad it’s comfortable. Don’t really use it myself. Only have it because visitors expect it. Like the chamber pot.” He gave the blankets one more tug, then brushed his fingers across Crowley’s hair. “Is this better?”

“Mmmmh. Sleep?”

“One moment.” A rustle of fabric, and then the bed shifted and another body slid in beside him, tugging him against the soft, warm chest. “Is this better?”

“N-now’m warm.” He ran his fingers across Aziraphale’s back, feeling the way his skin dipped under the pressure, as if Crowley could truly sink into him. “Y-y-you’re n-nice.”

Aziraphale clicked his tongue, but his hand didn’t stop rubbing a slow circle across Crowley’s back. “That really is enough of that.”

“No. I m-mean you’re n-nice.” If he wiggled a little, he could rest his head on Aziraphale’s arm. Hmmm, that was good. “Y-you d-didn’t need t-to help me. M’a demon.”

“I told you. I will help anyone. Even you.” A hesitation, and Crowley could swear he felt something brush across his forehead. Maybe his hair. Everything still tingled a little. “Especially you,” Aziraphale said, voice even softer.

“Won’ help me wi’my work,” Crowley grumbled.

“That’s…I can’t…it’s different.” Another hesitation, and now he could feel Aziraphale’s other hand, still running evenly up and down his bicep. “What…did you want me to help you with? I…suppose I…wasn’t really listening.”

“Nrf.” Oh, he could feel himself shivering now, in a distant sort of way. “J-J-Jus’wanna know f’you’re…gonna…cancel out m’next j-job. S’along way t’walk for n-n-nothing.”

“And if I am?”

“I sssstay’n London. Ssssay you th-thwarted me. Sss’all g-good.”

Crowley could hear the rhythm of Aziraphale’s breaths, of his heartbeat, of the hands on his skin. It was all nearly enough to lull him to sleep, even without that glorious heat that surrounded him, reflected back from the blankets. It was the closest he’d ever come, in this body, to that luxurious feeling of basking, gathering the sunlight on his scales.

“You know, Crowley…perhaps we should talk. When you’re better.” His forehead pressed against Crowley’s, and he continued in a quiet voice. “I’m sorry I threw you out. I’m sorry I called you a snake.”

“Ssssss.” They weren’t supposed to say those words. “Can’t ssssay m’sorry for wha’I said,” Crowley muttered. “Umm. Cuz. Fffforgot what it was.” He remembered being hurt. Angry. But the words themselves escaped him. “I was jus’…jus’…”

“I understand.” Another of those funny brushes by his hairline. “Sleep now. I have you.”

--

Aziraphale’s lips still tingled where they’d brushed Crowley’s forehead.

For a moment, back by the fire, Crowley had been too cold. Too still. Aziraphale had come very close to losing him, and that frightened him more than anything. He couldn’t say way. It was just discorporation, and yet…

I trust you.

One last brush of lips, so gentle it could hardly be called contact. Even still, Crowley sighed in his sleep, pulled a little closer. He was shivering now. That was a good sign.

“I think I’ll trust you, too,” Aziraphale whispered. “I’ve…never trusted anyone before, either. We’ll have to learn together.”

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Sound Proof

okay so this fic was from Wattpad and I found it in my google docs so I’m just gonna upload it here for ya’ll lol. I didn’t tag, I wrote this a while ago let me know what ya’ll think!!!

Warnings: Smut.

With dancing, came immense concentration and a lot of cardio.

That was all okay for Damara. She wore her silk pressed hair back into a pony, simple Polo Ralph Lauren hat on to keep her edges slicked back, high waist thin grey leggings, all white cropped tank, and matching white Vans. Damara held onto the aluminum double bar Ballet barre, studying her glistening reflection within the wall mirrors that covered every single area from floor to ceiling. 

Her chest rose and fell, right hand coming up to rub sweat off the tip of her nose. She had thirty minutes down, only twenty more to go. Being a pro dancer was fun when you posted tutorials on Instagram and YouTube, but when it came down to touring internationally and getting a chance to perform at Coachella, dance became a full time job.

Damara stares down at her version three iWatch, allowing herself to become consumed with the breathing app. She watched it expand with every breath, then declined whenever she exhaled. After her breathing returned to normal, Damara pulled up her iTunes playlist again, choosing to go sensual with a little bit of flash dance routine.

The instrumental to Kendrick Lamar- Love.

This song was always a warm up for her because it got her ‘in the mood’. She could feel the want and need behind the beat and his words. Damara snakes her hands up her frame, sliding slowly from the cuff of her ass, to her lower back, and lightly up and over her shoulders, forearms pressing into her large D cup breasts. 

One thing is for sure, Damara could move her torso like Shakira, body rolling and ticking to the beat with perfect harmony. Doing a sudden spin on her tiptoes, Damara Lowers herself to the polished flooring, arching her back off of the surface with her legs spread into a V, before lifting her lower half off the ground to do a series of air kicks like she was back in an 80s workout video or like she was in Kanye West’s video for Fade instead of Teyana Taylor.

She turned over onto her hands, hitting a side to side split perfectly before lifting from the ground to walk seductive and tantalizing towards the middle of the dance studio.

That’s where it began, the sweatiest most bewitching dance yet. Her hands cascade everywhere, eyes closed to take in the beat with heightened hearing. Her hands rubbed along the outline of her pussy in a teasing manner. Damara was so shameless when it came to dancing provocatively. She twirled and made an S with her body like a snake, body in sync to the beat. The sultry look in her eyes could trap you like Medusa. You would think she danced to one of Prince's songs from the outside looking in. 

The song came to an end, Damara lifting her shirt over her head and tossing it in the corner, picking up her gallon water bottle to take a huge sip. She wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand, feeling the burn in her curvy waistline from all the crunching and belly rolling that came with dancing. Her gluteal muscles were on fire as well, causing Damara to admire her ass in the mirror, sweat staining the crack of her ass over the fabric. 

—

Finishing up, Damara grabs all her things before leaving the dance studio at the gym she finally snagged a membership for. The gym had two sections: one for premium guests who had VIP access to the soundproof workout rooms or standard. Sadly, Damara was standard. She always wanted to workout in the soundproof tinted glass rooms like all the extremely fit individuals did, but one look through those glasses at the equipment housed within would make you withdraw with fear. Her personal trainer had stressed for her to go VIP, bribing her with access to the ice bath room and luxury pool where you can watch the LA skyline like you’re in a hotel.

She made a left at the end of the hall, walking with her shirt and towel over her shoulder to the main gymnasium area full of musky people and terrible workout music. Even though Damara did a one hour session of dancing, she couldn’t help but to gravitate towards the stair master for a good fifteen minute burn. Once there, Damara climbs the stairs, beginning her workout on nine speed, instantly feeling the ache. Her eyes scanned the area, finally landing on a group of women huddled around one of the sound proof workout rooms for VIP gold card members. 

She let out a tired chuckle, shaking her ponytail clad head before pausing to drink some water. Of COURSE they would all salivate over some random ass man instead of working out, because that’s what gyms are for these days. On queue every day Damara comes to the gym, once the clock strikes 8 pm, a hoard of women suffocate the glass, fogging it with their heavy breathing and wetting it with saliva from their wiggling tongues. Damara would have been one of them if she listened to her group of girlfriends who didn’t come in tonight. Supposedly, there is this fine ass man that comes to the gym every day, around 8 pm. Damara never seems to catch him, and even if she did, no man was that fine to act like a hyena over. He couldn’t be that sexy.

“Ooo, girl, let me get off this got damn treadmill he back again!” Damara turned to find a short, slim, mocha skinned girl with a track runners body ogling the group of women, her friend who looked like she could be her sister, biting her lip.

“I wonder if he’s doing the pull ups right now, fuckk. You know his dick stay hard when he working out.” 

The other girl laughs, “I just want to suck it. Just give me one good time!” 

Both women laughed while Damara tries her best to work out and ignore them. But to her surprise, she couldn’t focus. Not because of the talking, but because she wanted to see what all the fuss was about. Maybe after this she could rub it in her friends faces that whoever this guy was, wasn’t about the hype after all.

Defeated, Damara stopped her workout, quickly lowering herself off the machine and towards some spray and paper towels to wipe away her sweat. Tossing everything, Damara makes her way towards the sound proof workout room straight across from the men’s locker room. 

Here she was, and yet just a few minutes ago she was laughing to herself at how ridiculous it was to come to a gym and stare at a man for two hours. Wasn’t no man fine enough for that.

The glass window straight ahead had about seven ladies standing in front of it, whispering and admiring at what looked like absolutely nothing to Damara. It was so dark she couldn’t see a thing. As she got closer, at first, all she could see through that glass was the usual workout machines of all types and weight racks. Just before she could walk away, he started lifting those weights. Suddenly, as if pulled by some type of force field, Damara turned into a fan girl with glossy eyes and a watery mouth. He had to be the one her friends were talking up. There is no way he couldn’t be the one with how fine he is. 

“This must be your first time noticing Erik.” 

Damara turned to the lady who looked to be twice her age standing next to her.

Damara didn’t respond, she simply looked back at him through that tinted glass. He was so fucking sexy that her jaw dropped; literally. Erik was definitely the one her friends were juiced up over. Not the juice you drink, but the drip from that pussy when she hungry for a nigga as damn fine as he is. 

Erik had been bench pressing weights and she couldn’t get a good enough look at him until he lowered the weights. Yeah, when he was laid out on his back, sweaty muscles moving as he lifted 280 pounds over his head he looked good, but GOD once he stood up was she slapped with his looks.

Erik was wearing sweat shorts that dropped low around his waist, a damp sweat top and a pair of Nike Air Max Trainer 1s on his feet.

His braided back dreads were damp from the perspiration; it really set off his caramel complexion.

Erik returned his weights to their respective places and stood facing that mirror with a bottle of gatorade. Damara could really see how perfect he was. Fine wasn’t even the word, it was so much she could say about him. The look in his eyes, the way his muscles moved in conjunction with him, the smoothness of his skin, the hairstyle that compliments him very well, and let’s not forget those lips. She figured he got many compliments on his lips, as beautiful and suckable as they were. That thick erection he was sporting was an added bonus. All she could see was herself lowering onto it and rocking like crazy, like she was riding a horse. When she returned to reality from her lustful daze, she noticed her hands were flat against the glass, jaw STILL dropped, and her nipples tender and hard practically clawing at him. They were so hard that they were hurting, and the feeling of his lips pulling and sucking and licking on them would have been exactly what she needed, just pull her shirt down and suck em.

All of that talk and fantasizing in her head, ironically made his eyes meet hers. Damara swore she thought those big, dark eyes could see her and only her. The lady she ignored next to her smiled, like she knew what Damara was going through. She did, that’s why her and the others were still there.

——

Feeling a little foolish and embarrassed by her behavior, Damara asked the lady next to her if Erik could see them or was it one of those half way windows.

“Girl, he can see us alright. That’s why his dick is so big and hard poking through those shorts. He sees something he likes.” 

Damara looked back at him, and right then like a spark had been ignited, he smiled a little at her with dimples, then winked before downing the rest of his gatorade. Damara could feel her knees buckle, body so nervous. She decided it was most definitely time to bounce. That night, Damara never told her girls about seeing the living legend, but she did go back the following day, a Wednesday, to stare him down at that window again. She purposely went there alone to have him to herself. It was crazy how obsessed he became.

——

After about a week or so of admiring Erik through that glass, Damara decided to take it up a notch and use the adjoining women’s workroom; yeah, like she could actually bench press any of the equipment in there. Getting into that women’s workroom meant that she had to become a gold member. The upgrade was about 20 dollars more, which landed her to about 80 dollars a month; great.

She felt like she’d been walking the yellow brick road to the emerald city. Opening those double glass doors to her new sanctuary,  she could smell musk no longer, only fresh air and a cool breeze. The music was even better in there, sicko mode playing low through the speakers. It was approximately 7:50 pm, so she knew Erik would be arriving soon. 

At about 8:15, a little later than usual, Erik pulled open the doors and walked into the men’s workroom. He had his dreads crinkled and messy, a pair of Beats solo 3 in black with gold trim over his ears, black Nike pro training top that clung to his body like it was two sizes too small, matching black shorts that hung low on his hips with the waistband of his compression pants peeking through. He hadn’t immediately seen Damara on the other side since she was in the corner tugging on the pull ropes that she couldn’t make budge. She didn’t really know what to do. If she popped out of nowhere near that window, she could scare him to death, and he’d be mad. He looked like the no nonsense type too. 

Damara decided that hiding wouldn’t fix anything so she came out into the open to do some yin yoga poses that helped stretch her body. Sitting Indian style, she started with the butterfly, bending forward while gripping her shoes. The stretch made her moan, all the tension in her back disappearing. Next, she decided on the dragon, bringing one foot forward in a low lunge, stretching out her glutes and back again. Admiring herself, she liked the way her ass looked in the tinted mirror, and apparently so did Erik. Her heart dropped to her stomach like she’d been on the tallest roller coaster, her eyes reverting towards the ground. Damara could feel his eyes on her still as she lifted from the ground, rolling her neck. With one hand on the back of her neck to stretch the muscles, her eyes met his again. That same slight smile graced his face again, almost innocent, but those eyes were dark and sultry, like hot coal.

The heat turned down just a little, Erik walking away leaving Damara a flustered mess.

——

He started out with a little cross training. Damara watched from her workout mat in between doing crunches. Next, he pumped a little iron. She noticed how he enjoyed admiring himself when he lifted weights. The veins in his arms would bulge so much it looked like they wanted to break the surface of his skin. She could see his mouth slightly opened, concentration set in his features, and she just knew he was making those grunting, straining noises that guys make when they workout. Watching those muscles flex and bulge like that made her weak in the knees again. She liked the feeling. When he lay on his back to do the leg lifts, that’s when she lost it in a major way. The weight Damara had in her hand to do Russian twists fell down on her shoulder. She screamed out without even knowing it. All she could feel was pain beginning to throb in her left shoulder, and she laid back on the floor massaging it with a whimper. Unfortunately, at that time Erik was the last thing on her mind. When Damara got enough nerve to look at the window, Erik was pressed against it looking at her. He mouthed to her since it was sound proof, “You aight, Lil Mama?”

After Damara figured out his words, she nodded and gave him the okay symbol with a tired smile. Erik stares at her for a few seconds, scanning her frame in that PUMA workout suit she decided to wear, then moved on to the leg machine again. Damara liked the way he scouted her, and that made the pain in her shoulder go unnoticed.

——

Throughout their workouts, they would peep each other, and he liked the attention she was showering him with. There he was again with those pull-ups, directly facing her with intimidation in his eyes. Somehow, he had lost his shirt along the way, sweat pouring off his body like he’d been doing push-ups in the rain. 

Damara’s workout suit was almost see-through and hugging all her curves, and he definitely paid attention because his erection was good and hard, tenting the front of those black workout shorts like wild. Damara wanted to think it was solely her making those pants tent like that, but working the hell out of those machines may have played a role in it. She’s good, but not that good.

The more she looked at Erik, the more she wanted to taste him, feel him pressing into her throat. 

Damara looked down at her iWatch and realized it was minutes to closing time, but she couldn’t leave that room, let alone that window. She hated to leave because he was worth staying and getting caught with. Knowing the kind of man Erik was, he probably got a kick out of the chicks staring his fine ass down, then going home to his equally fine ass girl. That was the kind of luck Damara had: finding the juiciest man on the planet, but not able to land him because he was taken.

Damara suddenly had a lightbulb moment. Erik was a gold member, with a passkey to leave the gym if he ever got locked in. Damara could lie and say she lost her passkey, having to go to him to get out...or to get off! Shit, lord knows she needs that, it’s been way too long. Suddenly, Erik made a move she hadn’t been prepared for. He stepped away from the weight trainer and approached the window again. Damara couldn’t move, couldn’t muster a speech, all she could do was watch him approach her with that sweaty, perfect body. Maybe not so perfect to some because it was littered with tiny raised scars, but to her it was absolutely perfect. Man, the closer he got to her, the hotter she got. In all her orgasmic nonsense with a pussy so wet and probably creaming her panties, it soon dawned on her that he probably approached her to ask her why she’s still there; that maybe he was tired of being stared at as if he were a zoo animal. Damara got scared and backed up.

Erik backed up a bit, confusion on his face before chuckling, giving her a head to toe view of him, then he got busy. His eyes stared into hers as he massaged that massive erection up and down through his pants. Damara could feel her nectar elevating within her core. Then it hit her, he was about to give her a private sex show. Was she about to bounce? Fuck no, she stayed and watched everything that pretty nigga did.

When his erection got hard and thick within his pants, he let out a fucking dazzling smile that could make her cum right there. No man had ever smiled so wickedly at her that her panties got wet; then again, she’d never met Erik. His pecs were mouthwatering to the point of drool, contours and ripples were everywhere. All her nasty little tongue wanted to do was lick, lick from his collarbone to his abs and continue south. Her hands shook as they clutched her chest, feeling her nipples brush against her fingers. All the while, her eyes never left his.

——-

Bending to remove his shoes and socks was a chore because that delicious dick was in the way, but he managed. His fingers beckoned Damara to get closer. Damara knew he was going to slide his pants down next, the nigga was clever with his seduction. She moved back to that window, and watched him slide his shorts to his hips. His dick bounced out, sprang to life, and she dropped to her knees, wondering how all that would feel stroking her insides. He was real heavy, the type of dick where the tip and about two inches could only fit in the pussy. The type of dick where you would push him away while he blew your back out from getting too deep. The type of dick where you had to use two hands to jerk while you sucked; you really gotta be a pro to suck a dick like that with no hands, not to mention ride a dick like that.

Erik bit at his plump bottom lip, massaging it with his tongue while his hand massaged that long pole; that damn snake. The more he stroked, the bigger and bigger it became within his hand. He strokes that beautiful dick until he was about ready to nut. He mouthed at her through that sound proof glass, 

“I want that throat.”

His muscles tensed, he squeezed it harder, and playfully rubbed it against the glass directly where her mouth was. She swore she could taste him, feel him sliding it between her lips and forcing his inches into her. Erik stroked it so hard that she could see the moisture forming on his tip. Damara couldn’t help herself, she had to reach between her thighs and stroke her pussy to match his tempo. Damara pulled her suit down, revealing her drenched sports bra and panties to him. She didn’t want to waste any time the way her fingers made its way to her panties, pulling the fabric to the side to reveal her wet sticky treat. The more he stroked himself, the deeper her fingers slide into her valley; all three of them. When Erik dropped to the floor, she scrambled to see what he was going to do next. It was fucking outrageous! That pretty ass nigga got on his back and moved his hips up and down like a bitch was on top of him. Damara screamed in ecstasy over the sight of it. Her fingers went deeper and deeper like she was trying to scoop her cum out the pussy. She turned around and arched her back, rubbing at her clit with one hand while fingering herself with the other. He pumped hard and long, perspiration dripping from him, muscles tensing. Damara just knew he was going to explode on the floor instead of her which was a damn shame. No. No fucking way. He turned over on his stomach, and did push-ups, pumping those hips and dick into oblivion. He still hadn’t cum for her yet. His arm shook when he did his one-handed push-ups, dick throbbing in his other hand. She felt her orgasm building deep in her belly, her legs shaking from muscle strain and intense pleasure. That was the grand finale, watching him cream into his own hands while staring her down. 

Damara screamed out, Cumming on her fingers with a shake of her body.

——

He returned to his back and pressed out so much cum that she almost fainted from the orgasm he gave her. When her breathing returned to normal, Damara looked into her hand, now covered with so much of her own thick moisture that her fingers were sticking together. Then she glanced up at him watching her with a sweet smile on those wonderful lips—his erection was still in his hand and still harder than boulders. 

The windows were nice and steamed by the time he and Damara finished. She watched him grab the rest of his belongings and headed for the showers. Damara took off as well, figuring that was all she’d get from him. 

Damara made her way to the showers herself, letting her plan go. At least she got a good show from him so she was thankful. 

While in the shower, Damara couldn’t help but smile as she wet her body under the steamy water. She struggled to fight the urge that this was it and probably her last sex show a man would ever give her and he didn’t even touch her. Damara allowed the warm water to trickle down her aching joints and relaxed. Her body mitt delicately encircled her breasts, pretending the sultry touch was Erik’s fingers, sucking on them gently before making a tongue track down to her core. She shuddered in waves of heat. Her body trembled, spasms, taking her mind off the pain from her injured shoulder. She completely gave in to pleasure and let the most tremendous orgasm hit her like no other one had ever before...well, until Erik happened on the scene. 

Then.

“Damn, girl.”

The words came from nowhere. Damara assumed they had been in her mind. Nonetheless, her eyes opened and she twirled around to see if anyone had come in. There Erik was, standing directly in front of her. Damara tried reaching for her towel but Erik snatched it from the railing before she could get it.

His cool, seductive voice melted into her horny spirit. 

“Imagine how big this dick would be if I would have been standing right above that ass, watching you finger that pussy from the front. All I could see was that phat ass shaking and quivering to some sexual fantasy. Was it about me?” 

Damara couldn’t speak. All she could do was look down at the towel around his midsection, sporting a killer of an erection. Her mouth opened, her voice cracked. 

“I...I, uh…”

“It’s okay, babygirl. I already know that ass was thinking about me. How could you not after the show I gave you.” 

Erik moves toward her, one step away from entering the stall with her. 

“You liked that show I already know that shit. I already know I got you”— he slapped her pussy, then reached around to palm her ass roughly, smacking each ass cheek causing it to sting—“hot enough to want more, right? You should anyway since I gave you a little taste of what the fuck I got,” he pulled his towel off and entered the stall.

It was different from having that window in between them both, Damara covering her nakedness with her arms. Erik pulled them down.

“Don’t you dare cover up a fucking thing.”

The grip on her wrists were so tight her hands shook.

“So, you just walk in women’s locker rooms? What if I wasn’t the only one here?” 

He chuckles, letting her wrists go, “And? I don’t give a fuck about that. It’s okay for me to do whatever I fucking please in here.” He kisses her cheek. “I’m Erik—“

“I know who you are, Erik. Every woman within a five-city radius knows who you are.” 

“Yeah? And who might you be?”

“Damara; nothing exotic, nothing romantic, just regular old Damara.”

“Not from where I’m standing, girl. You are so fucking sexy. I bet you taste good too, I know that pussy enjoyed me pleasing you.”

“It did, I can still feel it.” She lets out a moan.

“Well then that pussy won’t mind if I please you again?”

Damara relaxed, his hands covering her breasts, much the same way they did in her daydream. He stroked the tight tips with his thumbs, then replaced them with his lips. She was right, that mouth was made to suck on some titties. Erik sucked them ferociously, licking them like they were candy. Her head reared back as he sucked like he was trying to milk her. Her back arched off that wall, his arm circling her waist and pulling her close.

“So, you want everything, huh?”

“Every single drop.”

Erik’s muscles tightened around Damara; their bodies pressed against the wall. As the water continues to drench them, he lifted her into his arms; her legs hugged his hips. She felt the tip of that delicious dick play with her opening, tease it, rub up and down on it. She faces him, staring into those delicious brown eyes of his. 

“It’s almost closing time, I couldn’t leave yet without a little taste.” 

It definitely wouldn’t be a little with how big he was. Damara prepares herself for the surprise, her pussy clenching and quivering on its own. Erik takes his fingers to caress her clit, taking a single finger to tease it with a flickering motion. Damara kept a firm grip on his neck, pressed against the shower wall. 

“I’m playing wit that clit good, huh?”

She responds with a bite to his shoulder, her pussy jerking in his hand. Erik brings his fingers to his mouth, spits on them, then brings them back to her clit. He was very generous with his spit, making her pussy extra sloppy. Clearly with him still going at it on her clit he aimed to make her cum this time with his own fingers. 

“Ok, you working my clit,” she felt him take his dick to finish it off, rubbing her clit in circles. The smoothness of the tip of his dick hit every sensitive spot on her clit. 

“Make that pussy cum,” she edged him on.

His hand came down to grip her ass while he worked, her body shuddering, legs securing around him even harder, moans echoing off of the shower walls. 

“Shit, fuck, damn…”

She could feel the sensitivity in her pussy too.

“Open up for me.”

Damara opened wider, Erik bringing his dick to her pussy. He pushed his way in slow, only by a few inches before she clamped up. Her guess was correct, he was too much to take. Damara was scared now, she didn’t know if she could go through with it.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking big,” her eyes grew wide.

“Ha, You knew that already when you saw me jerking it.” 

“I’m too tight.”

“So?” He moves his hips, teasing her walls to let him in further. Her body crunched, hand to his chest. Was she fucking a monster dick or what? His shit was too damn much.

“Chill,” her eyelids fluttered. She wouldn’t be able to stand.

“You’ve been eyeing me all fucking week, teasing me and shit and now you wanna cry about how big my dick is?” 

He kissed at her neck, causing her to moan and rub her wet face against his. She brought her hands to his biceps, squeezing them tightly. 

“Be gentle, okay? It’s too damn big.”

Erik takes that invitation, gripping her hips firm before pressing himself in inch by inch, pausing in between. Each time he entered her it felt like he was ripping her a new hole, but it felt so full in a good way. Along with the pain came a shock of pleasure. The vein on the underside of his shaft rubbed smoothly at the floor of her pussy, a new sensation she had never felt. It curves at the tip to hit her g spot, swiping it each time he moves his hips.

“I don’t think I ever had a dick this good,” she hissed the moment he fully entered her. 

“I already know you didn’t with all that crying you was doing.” He pulled out to the tip, purposely, to make her feel every inch again. Erik pushes back in, watching the way her face went through a series of confused and unprepared emotions. It was time to pick up the pace now. Erik started off slow, his strokes growing and her moans. Damara held onto the rails along the walls of the shower, watching with astonishment how Erik’s dick fucked her.

“Oh, oh, omg,” she shook tremendously, a single hand clawing at Erik’s chest. He simply fucks her with deeper strokes, reminding her what came with every inch. Clearly he had a fetish for making women cry from how big he was. That rock hard body came with a huge package. 

“Are you fucking kidding me!!!!!” She felt a rush of pressure forming in her lower belly, so big it pushes Erik’s dick out, a fountain of liquid pouring. The more she clenched, the more it flowed. Damara couldn’t control it and it shocked her. No way, this nigga made her squirt and for the first time ever. She’d always tried to make that happen for herself but it never worked so she would give up. 

That seemed to fuel Erik even more, he brought one of her legs up into a split, entering her body again. This time, he flexed his abs, bringing his dick into even more of a curve, really hitting her spot. Erik knew what he was doing, he wanted to see the reaction again.

“Come on, take this big dick,” he held her leg up even if it shook.

“Ah, fuck yes, shit it’s happening again!!” Before she could relax, here she was, squirting again but Erik stayed in. He smiled, slamming her so hard with his dick that she could feel it in her stomach. At this point, Damara might as well lose count of how many orgasms she’ll have. 

———

It was true.

Damara has missed two days of the gym for a reason. 

She couldn’t get out of the damn bed the morning after her and Erik had sex. Her pussy was sore and sensitive, inner thighs shaking when she stood from the bed. Damara didn’t bother exchanging numbers with him, unsure if she would even be able to take him up on a second chance. Deciding to be a big girl, Damara went to the gym for a dance session. 

She stood in the mirrored dance studio wearing a leotard colored bronze, a pair of sweats on and her hair in a messy bun with her vans. She skimmed through her playlist on iTunes, adjusting her AirPods to her liking.

Damara had to squat ballerina style to stretch her thigh muscles, bringing her leg up to extend the muscles of her inner thigh. Rolling her neck, she turns from the mirror, deciding to dance to a Nicki song. Once she got in the groove with the tempo, she started her routine. Her body moved like magic. The mirror wasn’t her own audience anymore, Erik was standing at the door watching her closely. He didn’t make a move, his eyes following her skillful moves along with her dangerous body, I mean, Damara was thick. Even through her loose fitted sweats he could tell. Now that Erik got a good look at her, he recognized her from Instagram.

DeetheeDancer.

She was pretty popular on social media for her dancing. Erik watched a few of her videos from time to time, loving the way she moved. She had this way of letting you know she was sexy from the look she gave in the camera when it followed her body. It was as if she was daring you to touch her, let her throw it back on you and see if you can catch it.

——-

Damara finished off to her first song, bending over with her hands on her knees to catch her breath. She paused her music, picking up her water to take a long sip. After recapping it, Damara’s eyes sweep the area, landing on the door and seeing a familiar face waving at her. 

It was him, the big dick nigga that had her on a two day hiatus. He looked to be arriving at the gym because he didn’t look worn out just fresh with a bomber jacket over top of his workout gear, beats over his ears and shades on. 

“Mind if I come in?” He mouthed.

Damara caught her breath before smiling, motioning for him to enter. He finally stepped through, dropping the duffel bag that was on his shoulder.

“Why ain’t you tell me you were a dancer? You ain’t so average.” 

“It’s kind of hard to do that when you were balls deep in me.” She mouthed tiredly.

“You talk hella bold but when I’m in there I have you running though.” He removed his shades, blessing her with his brown eyes.

“Mind if I watch? I got all day.” Erik removed his jacket.

“Fine with me,” Damara was okay with it, she had eyes on her with dancing almost all the time.

“She plugged her phone into the wall Bluetooth, settling on dancing to some pussy popping music from her freaky playlist. Yes, this was absolutely purposeful.

Right off the back, Megan Thee Stallion Freak Nasty began playing. She started off with a routine she already had to this song. She poses, hands rubbing down her frame before squatting down with a grip on her knees while swaying her hips. She did a turn, one hand in her hair with the other on her ass. Once the beat dropped, she got into the groove with a sexy hip hop routine that involved a lot of footwork and ass shaking. Her ass shook alright, like a goddamn tidal wave straight from the sea. She bounced in a circle, spreading her legs wide before landing into a perfect split that deserved tens across the board like she was a gymnast. 

Erik was impressed, and so was the huge dick that jumped happily in his compression briefs. She was clearly giving it her all, impressing him. He could fuck her ass royally with his dick, congratulate her for the little talent show. She was on the floor again, doing a perfect side split, her eyes moving from the mirror and zeroing in on his erection. She must have known that he was turned on because her eyes didn’t move from his crotch the entire time she grind, bent her body over, and twerked her ass. 

“You think that pussy can handle this dick today?”

She stops moving, hyperventilating before pausing her music.

“Nah, keep that playlist rolling, I want you to dance on this dick.”

She looked at him. He looked at her. She whispered, “okay, I admit it. You’ve got too much dick for me.” 

“Girl,” He wasn’t trying to hear that.

“I’m serious, I need to be able to move not walk like a cripple.” 

“It’s a gift,” he smiles wide.

Damara walks over to the mirrored wall, holding onto the bar before stretching her leg all the way up to her head. 

“See, you preparing yourself already.”

Erik began to approach her, Damara bent over with her head between her legs, looking from behind. She could see Erik making his way to her, the feeling in her stomach making her nervous. Damara lifts back up, grabbing a towel to wipe her neck off. Here he was now, fully enveloped in her personal space with his hands on either side of the bar, chin resting on her shoulder.

“I mean, you really got that shit up there, huh?” He was referring to her leg.

She chuckles, “Chill out, monster.”

“Monster? Hm,” Erik turns Damara around, his eyes scanning her heaving chest, “Well, it is October.” 

She smiles, licking her lips before looking at his, “You plan on scaring me again?”

Erik takes his thumb to stroke her chin, “I thought you were afraid of big, bad things?”

Damara swallows spit, eyes fluttering. She grabbed the bar on either side to brace herself.

“You ain’t know? This is my favorite time of the year.”

Damara places her hands on the back of Erik’s head, pulling him down to meet her lips. They kissed, Erik’s hand on her hips now, pulling her off and against him. The next song that played was dvsn- With me.

“C’ mon,” Erik kisses her again, their full lips in French kiss mode, “dance on me.”

Damara takes her time to work her hips into the slow beat, Erik easily matching her movements. She was impressed, turning now, dipping forward with her ass against his crotch, twirling her hips in a hypnotizing circle. Erik places one arm across her chest, his face buried in her hair, Damara turning to face him slightly while she moved her hips tantalizingly slow against him. 

“Mm,” Erik looked her frame up and down.

Damara turns, on her knees, arching back before rolling her body forward, grabbing Erik’s legs as she began to rise while her hips moved from side to side. She went to her tip toes then, one leg cleanly rising to rest on his shoulder before she arched her back, jumping up for Erik to catch her. He does, twirling her around before slowing down as the song slowed, their eyes meeting. 

“Wow,” she spoke breathlessly.

Before she could stop herself, Damara places her lips against his, Erik bringing her to the floor. Between frantic kisses, Erik undressed her, her naked sweaty body warm against his. She moans, arms around his neck. Erik takes his fingers, slipping inside to get a feel and taste.

“You taste just right,” He sucks slowly on his fingers before taking those same fingers to rub her nipples. 

“Fuck,” Damara pushes Erik down to the floor, her hands moving quickly to undress him. She needed him no matter how big he was. The sight of him again almost knocked her out. Damara grabs his dick, licking her lips before sinking her mouth over him. Erik instantly palmed the back of her head, biting his lip and saying how much of a good girl she was.

Damara sucked like her life was at stake, spit covering her hands and chest. She couldn’t fit him all in her mouth but she did her absolute best. Erik pulls her mouth off, watching the string of spit connect with her lower lip.

“Climb up, Baby girl.” Erik motions for Damara to come to him, Her legs straddling him on either side before her arms grabbed his shoulders tightly. She tried to prepare herself but the moment Erik slipped inside again she squeezed his biceps with her nails. Erik hisses, taking his hands to grab at her waist to keep her still. He started fucking up into her at an even pace, the pressure within her too much. She could feel the shit in her spine. Damara looked back at it, eyes closing in sweet pleasure before looking down at Erik’s smiling face.

“God, please keep fucking me.”

Erik grabs her ass, anchoring his hips before picking up the pace. The scream from her was so loud it bounced off the walls. 

“These walls ain’t sound proof, Baby girl.” 

She couldn’t move or control her cries. Erik was deep within her guts. Damara begged for Erik to keep going over and over, a series of please and I need more escaping her mouth.

“You gonna squirt on me like that again?” He bit his lip, raising his brows in a rude manner to initiate a response from her, “I said is that what you’re gonna do?!” 

“Yes!!!!!”

Damara snapped, squirting like he asked. Erik slaps both her ass cheeks for that.

“Good girl, I know you got more for me.”

“Yes, Erik.” 

She froze, mouth suspended open before cumming again. Within seconds?

“FUCKkkkkk.” 

“Mhm,” he fucked up into her at the same killer pace, “mhm...mhm.”

“STOP!” She cries out, the urge to cum right there.

“Stop it, I’m gonna cum again!”

“Girl, shut up and cum.” 

Erik was close himself.

“Shut that crying up and cum on this dick.”

She went silent, body trembling before cumming for a third time.

“Oh my God,” she cries.

“You gonna let me cum in that mouth, Baby girl?”

Erik bounced Damara a few more times before slipping her off, standing to his feet quickly while she stayed on her knees. Damara opened wide, waiting for his treat. He jerked his big dick, grunts deep and eyes low and dangerous. After three pumps the cream spilled, Damara’s tongue ready. He tasted so damn good. 

“All of it, I’m not playing with you.”

She grabs his dick, licking and sucking all of it off.

“Good girl,” he puckered his lips down at her, mouthing a kiss. She almost fainted.

“You gonna have them thirsty bitches mad”

Damara didn’t care.

[backtobackbakubabe]

I am the Alpha Now Part 11

Bakugo X Reader 

Words: 3143

Masterlist

Reader is from America and somewhat of a delinquent with an alpha quirk that allows her to turn into a wolf as well as bond with dogs. She is sent to UA to straighten out her attitude. She ends up in a power struggle with none other than our favorite hot head. Words in Italics are words said telepathically.

*****************************************************************************************************

Today you wore the short skirt. You knew it would rile up Bakugo and now that you could feel his emotions... well let’s just say this was going to be a fun day. It was the last day of actual class before final examinations started next week. You were going to drive him crazy.

There was a knock at your door, and you could tell it was Bakugo. You skipped over and threw the door open but before you could even say anything Mercy barreled past you almost knocking you over in his pursuit for his new friend!

“HEY! Can we go for a run tonight! Y/n says she has to study!”

Bakugo scratched Mercy’s head. “If she’s cool with it, I don’t mind. Just be ready because I’m going to beat you this time.”

He was really starting to get the hang of the telepathic communication. At first it was cute, but now that they could talk to each other without you... well it kinda sucked sometimes. You hadn't realized how much you cherished your unique bond with Mercy until that bond was shared with someone else.

You cleared your throat. Bakugo reached out and took your hand all the while continuing his banter with Mercy. He hadn’t even looked at you. He did give your hand a squeeze when he could feel your mood souring. But even then, his attention was fully on Mercy.

You pulled on his arm, “Hey babe look at what-”

Bakugo turned and gave your forehead a kiss, “Hold on pup Mercy and I are practicing the sharing senses thing. Can you imagine me going from not being able to hear to hearing everything!” He let go of your hand as you trailed a little behind, third wheeling your own pack. This is bullshit. You’re supposed to be in charge here. You reached out and tugged on his backpack, causing him to almost trip.

“Seriously what is up your ass this morning pup? If you can’t be patient, then I just might have spank some sense into you...”

The thought of him bending you over his knee had you equally excited and pissed. On one hand you loved it when he took control, but on the other hand you weren't in the mood to take orders.

You could see Todoroki walking ahead of you with his headphones on. While reaching for something in his backpack, one of his notebooks slipped out. Poor guy was probably just trying to get to class unbothered but now you were about to drag him into your pity party. You let go of Bakugo’s hand and ran ahead to help Todoroki pick his stuff up. You leaned over and you could feel Bakugo’s emotions spike as he realized what you were wearing.

“How kind of you y/n, thank you.” Todorki looked over your shoulder to a fuming Bakugo. “I would ask if you wanted to walk to class with me... but it seems your boyfriend is on the verge of explosion.” He took a few steps in the direction of the main campus when he called over his shoulder, “I don’t think that skirt is dress code by the way... but I think you already knew that.”

“Pup... what the fuck are you wearing?” Bakugo was behind you now, taking off his jacket and attempting to tie it around your waist. His arms snaked around your hips, his mouth close to your ear.

You grabbed his arms and hugged him closer to you. “What do you mean? I’m wearing my uniform.” He started to growl as you swayed your hips just slightly, “Oh no, no, no. You don't get to be angry. I think it’s time you remember that you aren’t in charge here.”

“Are... you trying to make me angry? I don’t think you want to play this game. I always win.” His voice sounded even sexier through the bond. A chill went down your spine at his words. You almost wanted to behave for him... almost.

You scoffed as you pulled yourself away from him, “And what game is that Bakugo? Because from where I’m standing, I’m just trying to get to class like a good student. Finals are next week after all.”

Bakugo gripped the jacket he had tied around your waist and pulled it off. “I guess we should start studying then.” He started shouting random questions at you in Japanese through the bond. He was talking so fast you had absolutely no idea what he said. His hand came up and slapped your ass. “Every time I ask you a question, you must answer, in perfect Japanese. If you get it wrong you get a punishment, if you get it right, a reward.

You turned to face him and narrowed your eyes. The alpha in you refused to back down to a challenge and he knew that. Your eyes flashed blue briefly and his mirrored. “Okay I’ll play. But when I win... you better be ready to pay up.”

He gave you a smirk before kissing the tip of your nose. “I think today just got a lot more interesting.”

You could feel his excitement, his competitive nature coming out full force. There was no doubt in your mind he would do everything he could to trick you. You suddenly wished you had taken school more seriously. But there was no time to worry about that now, you had to be ready.

You took your seat once you got to class. The anticipation had you buzzing. He could ask you a question at any moment. Bakugo took his seat behind you and started talking to Kiri. He’s never one to be social? Is he trying to trick you into letting down your guard?

Class started and your fidgeted with your pencil, nearly snapping it in half with anxiety. You’re were trying to pay attention, you really were, but you couldn’t let him catch you slipping. Finally, when your nerved finally started to calm down he asked his first question. “What year did we see the first quirks start to develop?”

Shit… You didn’t know.

You reached for you backpack to grab your notebook. You knew you could find the answer there. Just as you were unzipping it his food stretched out and kicked it away from you. “No cheating… you won’t have your notes on a final…” Your fists clenched in anger, but you quickly reminded yourself you were in a classroom and needed to keep your composure. “Final answer in 3….2….1…. aw look at that times up.”

Your palms began to sweat. What would your punishment be? He wouldn’t go too far right? I mean he’s your boyfriend after all, and very protective at that. He wouldn’t make you do something too embarrassing…. Right? Shit this is Bakugo you’re talking about of course he would.

“For your first punishment. I want you to moan. Just loud enough for Kiri and Icy Hot to hear. I want them to know what they’re missing.”

Your eyes bulged. Seriously? You can’t say you didn’t expect this to take a sexual turn at some point… but so soon? Damn he’s not playing around today.

You turned around to look at his devilish red eyes. The amount of mischievous satisfaction you could see there almost made you laugh. He was having fun.

You looked to your right to see Kiri pretending to pay attention, while he actually doodled costume ideas. And then right in front of you was Todoroki actually paying attention and taking perfect notes. Bakugo said to moan… he never said you couldn’t be sneaky about it. You stretched your arms out, and yawned but at the very last second moaned.

Kirishima’s pencil snapped and his eyes looked back and forth between you and your dumbass boyfriend. You could feel Bakugo’s glee through the bond. He was enjoying this. “What the fuck are you looking at shitty hair?”

Kiri blushed bright red before just shaking his head and returning to his doodles with a now broken pencil.

You were impressed that Todoroki hadn’t reacted but then you noticed the ice that was now thawing from his desk. Part of you was almost proud that could provoke such a response. You could feel the lust coming from Bakugo and it honestly had your mind going numb. “Hey stop that!”

“Stop what? I’m not doing anything…?”

You took a deep breath in an attempt to calm yourself, “Yes you are you horn dog? It’s literally the only thing I can feel coming off from you and it’s starting to overwhelm me a little bit.”

“Oh….”

You turned to see his cheeks pink and him biting his lip in an attempt to keep himself from laughing. “OH? What do you mean oh?”

He started nudging your foot with his, “I mean… I’m pretty sure that’s coming from you? Don’t get me wrong. Listening to you moan is hot. I could listen to it all day… but you’re the one sending all the fuck me vibes right now.”

“Oh shut up. There’s no way that’s me!”

He just chuckled, “Whatever you say pup.”

You went through the rest of class without incident. Mercy asked to leave because the two of you were making him nauseous. You had no idea where he went but you could feel that he hadn’t gone too far. Bakugo asked you a few questions periodically, but he took it easy on you and didn’t really ask anything too hard, so you got them all right. You were on your way to lunch when he grabbed your hand and intertwined your fingers. “I fucking hate that skirt…”

You leaned into him, “I know.”

He shook his head as he led you to a table. He walked off to get your lunch as per usual, leaving you with a very confused Kiri sitting across from you. “Sometimes I think I know you guys, but then other days it’s like you’re from a different planet. What was that in class today? I know that wasn’t an accident y/n. No one freaking yawns like that. And Bakugo was wearing a shit eating grin the entire time.”

You just shrugged, “I don’t know what you’re talking about Kiri. If I made you uncomfortable though I apologize.”

Bakugo placed your tray of food in front of you and dropped a plastic bag filled with double chocolate cookies next to you. “Your reward pup. One cookie for every question. I kept track.” He kissed the top of your head and then took his seat next to you.

Kiri looked between the two of you and shook his head, “It’s like I don’t even know you anymore. I give up.”

You were stuffing your face with another cookie on the way to training when Bakugo pulled you to the side and asked another question, “Who was the first notable villain of Japan?”

Shit, shit, shit, you knew this! You went over this in class last week… “3…2…1…. Times up pup.”

“WAIT! No fair my mouth was full!”

He licked his lips, “Oh it’s about to be…” He pulled you into a nearby supply closet and locked the door. He took a seat on a step ladder and patted his knee. “Alright you know the drill. Three spanks”

You narrowed your eyes at him. Pissed off to have gotten another question wrong. “This is bullshit. I was eating something…”

You bent over his knee and pulled your skirt up. His hand came down with a hard slap, “You still could have answered through the bond. You have no excuse.” Another slap. “Shit y/n. Seriously? You’re flooding me with lust right now. I can’t even focus.” One last slap, and it had you moaning for real this time. His hand clamped down over you mouth. “Okay seriously. What is going on with you?”

Your mind was getting fuzzy and you could feel yourself getting lost in your own emotions. “Shit.” You pushed yourself off of Bakugo and pulled out your phone to pull out the calendar. No, no, no. Not now!

Bakugo could feel you panicking and was immediately behind you rubbing your back. He looked over your shoulder at the calendar app and froze. “Hey are you okay? You’re not like… late or anything right?”

You sighed, “No, no, nothing like that. It’s just a wolf thing. It’s stupid. I’ll explain it to you later. Right now we need to get to the gym before we get in trouble. We’re probably already late as it is.”

Based on the look he was giving you, he clearly didn’t believe you. But he nodded his head anyways and helped you up. Giving your forehead a quick kiss, “We can end the game here if it’s too much for you?” His look of concern had your heart fluttering.

“Nope, I said I was going to win, and I meant it. Now let’s go slow poke!”

Sparring with Bakugo had been torturous. You still were struggling to keep your emotions in check and it didn’t help having his sweaty body so close to you trying to pin you down. Your thoughts were inappropriate to say the least. Then he just had to start yelling questions at you through the bond. It was like he was trying to make you crack. You managed to get every single one right though. Which meant big rewards coming your way.

You were the last one in the locker room. Taking your time in the cold shower, trying to clear your head. You were about to start your heat. It was something you’ve had to deal with since you hit puberty. You don’t have periods like most girls. Nope. You went through heat like a dog once a year. You knew it was coming but for some reason you hadn’t thought to mention it to your clueless boyfriend. You usually keep it a secret from other people. It’s so embarrassing. It made you feel like a freak. You had learned how to deal with it when you were younger but for some reason it seemed so much more intense this year.

You were pulling your skirt back on when you heard a familiar voice clear his throat. “What’s going on with you today?”

You turned to see Bakugo leaning against a set of lockers. “I told you. I’m fine. It’s stupid…”

He stalked closer to you, “Wrong answer pup…And for your punishment…” His hands gripped the end of your skirt. “I think I’m just going to take this…” He ripped the skirt up the middle until it fell off your body. He threw the tattered remains in his backpack and handed you a pair of sweatpants.”

“Wh-what was that?” Your eyes were welling with frustrated tears. He was so close to you. You could smell him. You wanted him, you needed him and he’s just going to tease you like that? You were starting to spiral. Somewhere in the back of your mind you knew you were being ridiculous. That he didn’t know. That this was your traitorous hormones taking over.

Your legs began to shake and just as you fell, he caught you. “Ok seriously what the hell. You’re really starting to scare me. What’s going on?”

You clenched the front of his shirt, “I’m sorry! It’s just… It’s dumb… but uhm…” Your face began to turn a deep shade of red.

He tilted your head up to look you in the eyes, “Hey whatever it is just say it. Were bonded now y/n. I don’t know about you, but that feels kind of like a forever thing. So just let me help you with… whatever this is. It’s obviously bothering you.”

You took a deep breath, “I’m in heat.” All you got was a blank stare, so you cleared your throat and tried again, “Once a year I go into heat, which is basically my bodies way of saying it’s time to mate. And I have absolutely no control over it. I’ve learned of ways to help manage it but for some reason this year its’ so intense. My emotions are everywhere and magnified by ten. I can’t even tell what’s real anymore. I just need… I don’t know”

He scooped you up into his lap. “No tell me, what do you need?”

“YOU!”

You had never given Bakugo Alpha voice before. And you definitely didn’t mean to now. Your wolf instincts were taking over.  It definitely didn’t have the same effect on him that it did on Mercy. But you could still feel the chills it gave him.

Before you knew it he was pulling down his zipper and setting you up in a position with you straddling him. “At your own pace pup. Whatever you need okay? If this is what you need to feel better then let’s do it.”

You looked him in the eyes, “Are you sure? I mean once I start it could take days before I’m done…”

He cupped your cheek and scoffed, “Y/n… you realize that sounds like an absolute fucking dream to me, right? Having sex with my amazing, beautiful, fucking bad ass girlfriend… FOR DAYS. Hell yeah! We have all weekend.

You felt another wave of lust start to wreak havoc on your body. You could tell Bakugo felt it too and it was then that you understood. “It’s the bond. I’ve only ever handled it on my own before. Now every time my emotions spike, you feel it too. It’s like it magnifies it and makes it so much stronger.

Bakugo was hard beneath you now as he called out to Mercy, “Hey man I don’t know where you are, but if you get a chance come guard the girl’s locker room door please.”

Mercy was quick to reply, “You guys are disgusting… I’m on my way.”

You made quick work riding yourself of your underwear as you sank down on top of him. Your eyes flashed bright and total and complete bliss took over you. Every cell in your body was singing. This was where you belonged. You were a puzzle that had missing pieces until this very second.

You looked up to see a single tear falling down Bakugo’s cheek, “It’s so beautiful. The way you feel… it’s like you’re completely in sync with me. It’s amazing.”

What had started as a desperate and lustful action was slowly turning into something more… passionate. You leaned in and pressed your forehead to his as you started to grind yourself into him. His hands found your hips and together you found a rhythm that was so good you finally knew why people called it making love. This was love, this was art, this was your forever. This time next week you’ll be graduated, and you know there’s no way you’re going back home without him.

**************************************************************

TAGS: @tspice283 , @realityisoftendisapointing , @imbi-101 , @thoughtfulpandazine2 , @hotarumorikawa , @huh-iwasntpayingattention , @starfishlovingbnha , @weebnumber3622 , @mixedfeeelings , @munchmunch01 , @inumorph @xxoperatexx 

[chris-evans-indian-fanfic]

Voice

One-Shot

Description: When Mr Freezy enters your life, your peaceful world is destroyed.

Warnings: Non-consensual, voyeurism, masturbation, verbal abuses, harsh language and hints of necrophilia

DO NOT PROCEED IF THESE THINGS UPSET YOU. THIS IS A VERY DARK STORY. ONLY PROCEED IF YOU ARE 18+

This one-shot is my entry for Week 5 of @donutloverxo 's superfun writing challenge. This time, the challenge was based on GIFs. The one I selected will appear in the story below. Click here to participate in their weekly challenges

A/N- I blame @jtargaryen18 for making me an unholy hoe for Mr Freezy! 

My Main Masterlist

I don’t consent to have any of my work published or featured on any third party app, website or translated. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but Tumblr and AO3, it has been reposted without my permission. In that case, please do share the link and let me know.

…

You were living the best life in 1969. Working part-time at the ice-cream parlor in the mornings, hanging out with your friends in the evening and sneaking out for parties at night, you loved your routine, carefree life in New Jersey.

Your foot bobbed along the tunes of Honky Tonk Woman by The Rolling Stones as you read that month's fashion magazine, sitting by the new, shiny cassette player. Taking pride in the fact that your family was the first in the neighborhood to buy the expensive cassette player, latest in the technology of playing music, you smirked as you delicately, almost teasingly fondled the device. 

*beep beep*

The annoying horn of the filthy ice-cream truck broke you out of your reverie. Scowling, you turned to look at the abomination on 4 wheels parked right in front of your house. The long-haired driver, who called himself Mr Freezy, always gave you creepy vibes. Maybe he thought his wide smile would lure in more children, but it never failed to make your skin crawl with disgust. 

You tried your best to ignore him and his irritating horn, hoping that he would drive away soon enough. Unfortunately, it was a hot summer's day and there was a long, winding line of customers.

After yet another *beep beep* you slammed down the magazine on the table. Walking out in your pinkish-red knee-length skirt and long-sleeved top, you had a good mind to tell Mr Freezy off.

Standing in front of his ice-cream truck window, you stomped your foot and placed your hands on your hips. "How can I help you Ms Jello Mould?" his disgusting attempt at comparing you to a dessert sent a chill down your spine. 

"You have a long line of customers! Stop pressing your horn every 5 seconds!" you exclaimed, gesturing your hands towards the waiting people.

Mr Freezy chuckled, but the mirth didn't reach his eyes behind the glasses, "Now now. That is no way to talk to someone who is older than you Raspberry Ripple," he said in a friendly tone, "Not everybody can afford to buy a cassette player." 

"Maybe you can if you cleaned your ice-cream truck once in a while," you spat, purposefully covering your nose, "I work in an ice-cream parlor, and no establishment dealing with ice-creams should stink like this!" 

"My customers don't seem to mind it Sugar," his sweet tongue rolling the last word as if he was drooling.

You huffed, "I mind it! And stop with the horn! Or I will have daddy make sure you are never seen here again." And with that hardly intimidating threat, you walked towards your house. Mr Freezy licked his lips as he saw your silhouette disappear behind the front door. He could put your bratty nature to good use. Very good use indeed.

🍦

Dressed in a brown checkered dress, you sauntered home after your shift ended, your spirits high as you looked forward to being Ricky's date tonight at the party.

As you entered your home, your eyes fell upon the new cassette sitting besides your beloved player. Squealing with excitement, you rushed and grabbed the plastic box, hurriedly prying it open. To your surprise, a few photographs of you and Ricky fell out of the case with the words "Does daddy know about him?" scribbled on the back of every photograph.

No no no. OH GOD NO! you panicked as you rifled through the images. Your parents had no idea about your nightlife, let alone your boyfriend! These lovey-dovey photographs threatened to reveal your secret and ruin your life.

You found another note in the box behind the cassette, "There are plenty where these came from. Now be a good girl and play the cassette." Just beneath the sentence, a chocolate bar was roughly drawn in the corner and the words “My Chocolate Fudge” were written in small letters. 

Your hands trembled as you hit play. A raspy voice greeted you from the device.

"Hey baby." You knew this voice, who was he? "Has daddy's little princess recognised me?" You were pretty shaken up, your mind refused to let go of the terror and think straight for a moment as your thumbs rubbed against one another.

"Oohh Sugar, what am I going to do with you?" the voice chuckled. That sentence brought you to a complete halt. It was Mr Freezy! How dare he threaten you like this?

Before you could form any coherent thought, he tut-tutted in annoyance, "How can an ordinary ice-cream man like me trouble a beautiful young woman such as yourself? What will Daddy say? Let's call Daddy shall we? I am sure he would enjoy looking at how well Ricky can fondle his daughter's breasts."

You felt numb as his words sank in. If your father found out, he would have you sent to the country, to his relatives who lived on a farm! Eww!! You shuddered, overcome with disgust as the cassette continued.

"Now Sugar, we don't need to tell Daddy about us. Do we?" You shook your head in response. "Very good," Mr Freezy continued, "Open the curtains to your right, and look at the house across the street."

You followed the instructions, and nearly choked on your spit. There he was, in your neighbour's house, smiling and waving from their first-floor window. "Follow my next instructions very carefully, or I will make sure that your entire neighborhood comes to know about the wonderful kisser that Ricky is."

You could only nod in response. No matter what, you could not afford to let your family be humiliated because of your actions. 

"From now on, hit pause after you finish every command. And hurry, we haven't got all day Sugar. Your mother will be home soon. And if she is home before I am done with you, then let's just say tonight there wouldn't be any dessert for you," you gulped in agreement.

"Pull up a chair near the window and place the player near you." Your fear slowed you down and the recorder kept on playing, "Face the window, and strip." After a pause, you heard, "Sit on the chair and spread your legs wide. Keep your feet on the windowsill."

The rest of the commands fell on deaf ears as your body was stunned in shock. Did this man… really? You couldn't. You wouldn't. Maybe you could still apologise…

Tears brimmed in your eyes as you realised what this man wanted you to do. It was almost 4:30pm and people would soon fill the street in front of your house. If anybody decided to even look towards the window, they would surely see your body on full display.

As if reading your thoughts, Mr Freezy shook his head and pointed to his wristwatch.

You knew your mother would be home before 5:30pm. Whatever you had to do, you would have to do it quickly. 

With trembling hands, you paused the cassette, and obeyed his first two commands, the upholstery on the chair feeling warm against your naked bottom. From this angle, you couldn't see him, but you were sure he was keeping an eye on you.

You were correct. 

Mr Freezy sucked on his ice-cream bar as he watched the scene unfold. His tongue working the cold dessert as if it were your core. A small bite here, a suck there, and his length was already aching in his pants.

"Oooo look at that slutty pussy! Just waiting for a man's touch," his voice cooed from the recorder, "Play with your clit with one hand, and bring your other hand to your breast."

You begrudgingly relented, wanting to get it all over with soon. Heat flooded to your face as the indignity of your actions set in.

Across the street, Mr Freezy unzipped his pants, and started rubbing the neighbor's panty on his shaft, his touch fleetingly light as he sucked on the bar. He bit into the ice-cream when you rubbed your clit, the cold going straight to his length.

"I love how your plump breasts bounce everytime you take a step. A man can get lost in those curves of yours," his raspy voice continued, "Squeeze your breast lightly. Feel it's roundness. Tease your nipple too. Fondle it with one finger." 

You bit your lips as you followed his instructions. You had masturbated a few times and had even reached third base with Ricky, but it had never felt like this. You knew this was humiliation in answer to your rude behaviour. But this… it felt… good. You were ashamed to admit it, but as the teasing prolonged, you started feeling the familiar and ever elusive knot building up in your stomach.

"Yes yes yes baby. Rub that clit harder. Make that pussy wet for me. But don't you dare enter a finger in your cumhole." 

He watched as your hips thrust upwards, desperate for friction, as he started pumping himself faster. 

"Slap that boob," he commanded as another moan escaped your lips, "slap harder!" and you did. "Pinch your nipple and pull it. Pull it you cock sucking bitch."

More wetness pooled at your core as you continued to play with your body. 

"Stop," said Mr Freezy's voice. At first you thought you misheard him and so you didn't.

"I said STOP YOU FUCKING BITCH," his shouts from the player sounded as clear as a bell. 

Startled, you brought yourself to a complete stop. Despite yourself, the sudden cessation left you feeling disappointed and hungry for more. "Pause this recording. Go to the full-length mirror in your room and have a good look at yourself," his voice urged you.

Meanwhile, Mr Freezy had come undone across the street, his thick release coating the neighbor's cotton panties. He sighed as he used the neighbor's brassiere to wipe himself clean. He was longing to get a taste of you. Too bad he had other things planned for you instead.

You ran towards your room, trying to hide your nakedness as much as you could. You didn't recognise the woman in the reflection. Hair astray, lips and cheeks slightly flushed, puffed breath, eyes wide and the hair on your mound glistening with your arousal. You couldn't bring yourself to meet your eyes reflected in the mirror. 

You carefully went downstairs, and resumed the cassette.

"Saw the slut in the mirror? That's who you are bitch. A whore for a man's cock. Don't let Ricky touch that filthy pussy again, or I will fill you with my cum infront of your Daddy while he watches," the cassette ended with the heavy threat.

🍦

You were living the worst life in 1969. Quite often, you came home to a new cassette with new instructions recorded on them. Everytime, the plastic box was filled with naked photographs of your previous lewd acts. Up until now, you had jumped naked in front of the window, placed ice on different parts of your body, deep-throated an ice-cream bar and stripped to a vulgar song. 

Tonight however, it was different. He had asked you to carry a bottle of wine (that he kept on your bed while you were gone) and go to a hotel at midnight. Mr Freezy had explicitly mentioned that you were to wear only your bra and panty. Still, you covered yourself with a long coat as you snuck out of the house.

The hotel, if you could call an almost crumbling building that, was in the notorious part of town. With your heart pounding in your throat, you shed your coat and knocked on the door. A large man answered, his smirk widening as he took in your appearance. "You Buffy's girl?" you nodded just as you had been instructed. The stranger pulled your breast and dragged you into the room. 

He smacked your ass as he grabbed the wine bottle with another, "Buffy always sends the best stuff."

He was swift in opening the bottle, chugging the liquid down as if it was water. You shuddered at the thoughts of what this man was capable of doing to you. Tears filled your eyes at the realisation.

The man looked at you and, without warning, shoved the glass bottle in your mouth. "Drink. I like it when my prostitutes are drunk." His gaze swept over your entire body. One second you were gulping down the foul liquid, the next you were gasping for breath as he pulled the cups of your bra and poured the liquid down your torso, "Let these girls drink too! Lets get hammered baby!" he exclaimed as he pulled the elastic band of your panty and poured the wine on your mound. 

He laughed maniacally as you squirmed in his grip. Drinking the last of the drops, he pulled you into his lap, licking and sucking at the wine currently following down your figure. 

Your protests only spurred him on, but it all lasted only for a few seconds. 

You felt the stranger's body seize with yours. Breath coming in harsh rasps, you felt your throat constricting as sharp pain shot in every nerve of your body. Your agony, along with the stranger's, lasted only for a few minutes as your shallow breaths became few, finally coming to a raggedy stop.

Mr Freezy smiled a lopsided grin into his binoculars. He hurried across the street, grabbing the girl's dead body and dumping it into his ice-cream truck.

He happily hummed when he saw the ice slowly creep up your skin. You see, this profession had turned Mr Freezy cold, inside out. To an extent where he despised the warmth of a pussy around his cock. He craved the cold. He craved you.

__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__

Taglist open! Just comment, send an ask or message!

[thetorchwoodnineroleplayerwriter]

Popular!Luz AU concept post

This au concept is something me, @crispyclown , and @molotov-does-stuff worked out together on @pastatiger ‘s TOH discord.

The basic concept is “what if Luz never did become friends with Willow and actually did become popular” based on an offhanded comment from boscha in ‘Understanding Willow’ that went to the effect of “that human could have been popular if she wasn’t hanging out with Willow”.

Here’s all the headcanons we’ve all put together:

Timeline:

1) 'teenage abomination' never happens. Luz just has a boring day and becomes vaguely aware of Hexside.

2) during ’Covention’, Amity and Luz meet for the first time. They don’t hit it off but they don’t not hit it off either. After the Lilith speech, Amity still steps on King’s cupcake, but it’s completely by accident. Amity tries to ‘keep up appearances as a Blight’ and ends up accidentally insulting Luz and King while attempting to apologize. Luz ultimately still has the “Bog of Immediate Regret” line, but Amity doesn’t really care one way or the other, so she nearly says ‘you read Azura too?!’ Before instead accepting. Amity and Luz’s bet is pretty low stakes — Amity apologizes to king if she loses, Luz apologizes to Amity if she loses, maybe? But Eda and Lillith get waaaay into the bet and both sides cheat as canon. Amity still breaks down when the construction glyph is revealed, but Luz formally concedes anyways (with low stakes she doesn’t have any serious need to win, and she still would rather be this girl’s friend than her enemy), citing their own relative skill levels, before going and talking to Amity. Amity is still DISTRAUGHT about the whole ordeal, but she and Luz have a much more in-depth heart-to-heart, where Luz explains what she did, tells Amity how cool Luz thinks she is, and manages to tell her the “I’m not a witch, but… I’m training to be one“ line. Amity leaves Luz with the line, ‘they say humans can't learn any magic. But... I don't think that's going to stop you.' And… they’re, maybe friends? Unclear friends? Probably just acquaintances but the point is its nonnegative relationship development.

3) ‘Hooty's Moving Hassle' is removed.

4) in ‘Lost in Language’, Luz is still a little over-friendly with Amity (Amity respects her for serious but also She Has A Reputation, Luz) when they meet in the library. Luz still gets sucked in to the twins’ chaotic energy, and Luz still thinks hanging out with them will somehow translate to brownie points with Amity. When Amity walks in on them in the secret room, she’s much more visibly and viscerally betrayed by (what she thinks) Luz did. However after saving themselves from evil Otabin, Luz does convince her the twins tricked her, they book trade as canon, Amity actually clearly thinks of Luz as a friend at the end of it all.

5) the moonlight conjuration incident happens after the library incident. Amity spins a BS story about Luz being a skilled witch to her parents and invites her to the conjuring. While initially their conjuring goes as canon (ie nowhere), Luz turns it to a regular party with Boscha, Skara, Amity, and herself. (and Cat, i think? Whoever their canon fourth was, she’s still here.) Eventually they try again, and since (in this au) the conjuring's power == your conjuring group's friendship's strength, and everyone here is at least somewhat friends with luz now, they do manage to animate a few things.

6) at some point here, Luz, Boscha, and Skara team up for a pickup game of grudgeby, and Luz learns the fireball glyph.

7) During ‘Once Upon a Swap', both Skara and Boscha notice how out of character King!Luz is acting. They can admit King!Luz is being cool, if a lil dorky, but they have an out-of-character moment where Boscha tries to ask 'Luz' if she's okay. King doesn't get it, but the others walk in on it so Boscha resumes acting like a challenged alpha bitch. (Luz eventually explains to Skara what was goin on that day. Luz ‘conveniently’ never got the chance to clue Boscha in.)

8) at some point around here, Luz manages to get Eda to enroll her in Hexside.

9) 'adventures in the elements' is changed bc Luz does know two glyphs. However, She and Amity want to hang out some more and Amity thought Luz's fire glyph could help her learn the fireball spell, so they still go to the knee together (with Eda, Emira, and Edric as terrible excuses for chaperones.) Luz learns the ice spell under Eda’s somewhat hands-off tutelage, possibly after accidentally angering the Slitherbeast as in canon.

10) In ‘First Day', Boscha is looking forward to finally getting a read on this girl who wormed her way straight into Amity's heart. (she's not jealous. nuhuh. not even a little. YOU’RE jealous!) Luz still immediately gets Detention'd, tho, but this time Amity and Boscha show up to bust her out unprompted, leading to a VERY awkward moment where Viney (and Jerbo and Barcus) refuse to trust Luz on the basis that Boscha and Amity are her friends, and both of them are notorious jerks who would ABSOLUTELY bully the DT kids. Amity has to duck out for her performance tho. the episode concludes as canon.

11) we get an extended time where we see how Luz easily makes friends with almost everyone at Hexside. She's friend-shaped and she gets a HUGE popularity boost for being honest friends with Skara and Amity. (she gets rancid vibes from Boscha when they’re at school together, but she can't put her finger on *why*. and besides, Boscha calls Luz her friend too, so that probably counts.) during this time Luz meets Gus, who is one of E&E's classmates. Gus can have an episode, as a treat.

12) Luz finally meets Willow, and gets slapped in the face HARD with confirmation that Amity and Boscha are kind of massive assholes. Luz tries to befriend Willow, but Willow refuses to trust her due to how often Boscha, Amity, and the rest of the popular girls who make up most of Luz’s closer friend group have bullied her.

13) Luz tries to get Boscha to take it down a notch. Boscha takes it up a notch. Luz tries to get Amity to help, Amity asks why it matters — it’s just ‘half a witch willow’, no one cares. Luz realizes, awkwardly (and probably with the assistance of Jerbo and/or Barcus), that while she currently has a lot a friends and is popular, if she defends Willow from Boscha’s bullying she’ll lose a lot of her popularity. Luz kind of has a small breakdown over this, because she doesn’t want to risk friends here when in the human world she has so few, but at the same time, she has Principles! She can’t just ignore this! As one of her schemes to help Willow without going against Boscha directly, Luz manages to get Willow transferred out of Abominations, although Willow is kinda annoyed by this since even though she’s in plant track she feels a stranger. (This alienation eventually goes away, but not before…)


14) Luz snaps and punches Boscha in the face one day for bullying Willow once too many times. Boscha gets PISSED and Luz is NOT BACKING DOWN, even though she’s scared. Boscha basically exiles Luz from the friend group, which has the added effect of making almost all of Luz’s friends stop talking to her, most painfully Skara and Amity. Willow starts to tolerate her, but only barely. (Gus is still Luz’s friend tho. In fact, Gus, the DT kids, and E&E Are the only Hexside students at this point who’ll be caught dead with Luz.)


15) ‘Understanding Willow’ Is changed; Luz catches Amity burning up Willow’s memories. However, since Amity, Luz, and Willow are distinctly *not* talking to each other, the quest to save Willow’s mind is *much* more tense. Luz keeps taking potshots at Amity for abandoning the both of them, Inner Willow hates both of them, and Amity is trying desperately not to have fun with people who hate her and also trying desperately to defend her actions. Amity still reveals the same secret of the day she stopped being Willow’s friend; Luz, meanwhile, reveals some bad memories of her own human school that make it very obvious how much the chance to be popular meant to her and how she genuinely empathizes with Willow’s whole situation. Ultimately ends with a bit of a tense moment between the three where they admit they’re not friends yet… but at the very least they’re all willing to be friends, now.

16) We get some time watching Luz slowly re-making her friends throughout the school, as people decide they really do like Willow and Luz as people and they’re kinda tired of Boscha been an alpha bitch. Maybe spliced with Willow & Luz & Amity hangin out, being friendly, or with Boscha been salty and Skara et al. being here by obligation even though they *clearly* wanna hang out with Luz some more.

17) ‘Wing It Like Witches’ happens largely beat for beat here. Boscha attempts to re-assert social dominance, Luz invokes the sacred rites of a game of grubby with a bet, Luz tries to get Willow and Gus in for it but Gus can’t and Willow won’t; Amity talks Willow into forming a 3 person team with her. Extra angst from the fact that Boscha and Luz did actually have some bonding over being on the same team on an earlier grubby game.

18) Grom happens now, largely as canon. When preparing Luz for the main fight, Amity theorizes (incorrectly) that Luz’s greatest fear is losing her friends on the boiling isles; Luz goes along with it, because ‘I already faced that fear once this year, it’ll be a cinch’. Grom tries it but it doesn’t work, but then from turns into her mom. (We see Amity nearly cry from Grom turning into her, but realizes what’s going on, and then has a massive blush from being called ‘her’ Amity. Skara rolls her eyes, bc she’s been clued in. Boscha is deliberately not caring.)

.

20) Boscha eventually gets to the point where she decides to apologize to Willow. She starts with a BS ‘lol sry’ approach, ends with a record-scratch-sudden rant where Boscha really does break it — and herself — down in honest apology. Some of the bad attempts are played for comedy, this one played completely straight.

Miscellanious other elements:

Unrequited Boschamity / exes Boschamity, boscha has cool banter with her friends (mildly platonic boschluz banter, snarky boschamity banter, member boschkara banter, etc), Boscha being really jealous of Luz, Everyone — EVERYONE — pines at Skara, Luz also pines at willow eventually, BOSCHA ACTUALLY GETS A REDEMPTION ARC AND ITS WELL WRITTEN AND NO ITS NOT IN SERVICE OF A SHIP, Boscha::Azula Amity::Zuko wrt redemption arcs, Boscha joins the inevitable rebellion as one of those ‘everyone in public thinks I’m an enemy of the rebellion so I can help them out real nice in the DL’ people, and yes we ARE overthrowing the government at some point in this au just not right now, right now we’re having ANGST and LUMITY, boscha is actually very nice to her friends when she wants to be she just usually doesn’t feel like she Should Be Vulnerable, any episode that’s just ‘Luz With Willow And/or Gus doing Hijinks’ (ex ‘Really Small Problems’, ‘Something Ventured, Someone Framed’) that hasn’t already been mapped to an event in this timeline is skipped completely, yes that means Mathholomule successfully becomes president of the human club, none of this aus cast is actually friends with him tho don’t worry, Edric has been quietly dating Jerbo for a while now but his sisters don’t know, Emira is a disaster lesbian for Viney and the teasing is relentless, Emira is a terminal prankster with a maladapted sense of boundaries as a result of her parents, this is a point of contention for her courtship of Viney who can and will go OFF on her for crossing the line and not feeling guilty, Edric is very aware of boundaries but he also finds looking to her for direction gets him in trouble the least at home so he just feels terrible afterwards and tries to get Emira to tone it down and/or apologize, basically the library incident was her idea in this au and he went along with it because of blight child optics stuff, Luz’s memory may out Luz to Willow and Amity, Willow and Amity absolutely say ‘gay rights’, in fact the entire isle says ‘gay rights’, this au tricks you into thinking ‘oh easy lumity’ but then Willow comes in like a wrecking ball, during that murky period when Luz’s friends all hate her bc she punched boscha all the people still willing to talk to her get friendly REAL fast, yes that includes willow and amity once they all stop hating each other, nobody lets Amity live down “Oh, wow,,, sports” except Luz who didn’t get it, Everyone has a song assigned to them at the sleepover, Luz’s is Bad Reputation, Skara’s is Caramelldansen, Boscha’s is Money Machine, Amity’s is Eminence Front because I say so

[itgetsdarksometimes35]

Grace, Too one shot

18+

Pairings: Dark Steve Rogers x reader

Summary: Following up with the reader from grace, too by @darkficsyouneveraskedfor 9 years later.

Warnings: Dub con, kidnapping, multiple pregnancies, children, brainwashing, lots of errors because I just wrote this and didn’t check for grammatical errors, that’s about it I think

A/N: Please be aware of the warnings, they’re there for a reason. Although this story isn’t really going in depth of what happened, I do suggest reading the actual story by the wonderful @darkficsyouneveraskedfor In fact, I’m not suggesting. I’m telling. Go read her stuff becaus it’s legit the best, don’t be dumb. This story couldn’t have been possible without Roo, and I love her so much for allowing me to do this. She really helped bring these dark thoughts I’ve always had out and she has helped inspire me. Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy it! Make sure to give me feedback, it’s my first dark fic/fic in general! Without further ado:

Grace, Too

It has been 9 years. Three of which were spent locked in the basement because I couldn’t be trusted. During the time of the 3rd year I became pregnant. Not a glorious pregnant that you would see in tv, but the kind that makes you feel like you’re actually going to die. Pregnancy with a super soldier baby is regular pregnancy on steroids. Your back hurts 10x more, the kicks are more extreme and happen way before they normally should, and don’t even get me started on the morning sickness. All the while Steve was there being the most dutiful “husband.” We got married the 4th day. I kicked and screamed and punched and all it got me was a sore ass. He insisted I start cooking with the mini kitchen down in the basement. “Can’t trust you with the big guns yet” he had said while chuckling. I wasn’t much of a cook, the most I could afford, really, was ramen. Steve seemed angry at first about this, he face split for just a second before turning into the golden boy America knows and loves. “That’s okay, honey, I’ll get you a cookbook.” So I learned how to cook. It was a bumpy road but all the while Steve was encouraging, even when I totally bombed the food. He’d pat my leg and say “don’t worry you’re meant to succeed. There’s a reason I chose you, right?.” That smile of his I grew to despise. Partly because after a while I forgot what other smiles looked like on other people. Were they usually that perfect? I couldn’t remember. Another part was because I felt a tug at my heart, after a while, every time he smiled at me. I won’t say the tug was love, more like a tug that a prey would feel if it’s hunter found it to be too adorable to eat. I kept the basement spotless. Not very hard considering I only had a small kitchen with a stove, a mini fridge, a closet with utensils and food, a cooler that he filled with ice everyday, and a small counter; a sitting area with 2 chairs and a table (where Steve and I had dinner); a bathroom with a sink, toilet, small bath with legs, and a cabinet for storage; and finally a main room with a bed, and a tiny bookshelf with 3 books, aside from the 5 cooking books he got me. Steve told me I’d be rewarded with a new book every time I was good. I’ll tell you now, I only got 5 more books during those 3 years. I never really read the 3 books. Sure, my eyes glossed over them from cover all the way to the end, but I couldn’t tell you crap about Animal Farm or how it ended. Everyday he would come down after work and ask me how my day was, as if it could’ve possibly changed from the day before. He would inspect the small area I was forced to call my home, and he would smile with approval if it was up to his standards and punish me if they weren’t. The first few weeks were rough to say the least.

“Honey, you haven’t cleaned. You know what my expectations are.”

“Fuck you and you’re expectations. You’re batshit, you kidnapped me and you’re forcing me to be your wife! You need help!”

After that he’d put me over his knee and make me count. If I lost count he’d start all over. That’s the Steve I grew to know. Not the helping old ladies across the street Steve, not the I saved the world again Steve. The Steve that was broken down and tired from all the world threw at him was the one that kidnapped me. After checking to see if I did my chores, he then checked to see if his dinner was ready. One time I made a singular chicken leg. He didn’t find it funny. He didn’t hurt me often, unless it was sex or a spanking, but that day he slapped me in the face and yelled at me for being disrespectful.

“Don’t you see all that I’ve done for you? And you have the nerve to do this? Don’t be a bitch, y/n.”

“Please, Steve, just let me go.”

After that he realized what he’d done and held my crying form until I fell asleep. I woke up with an already made breakfast and an apology note.

After dinner we had sex. No, sex isn’t the right word. That would imply it was mutual, it wasn’t. But what other choice did I have? The first few nights I did try to stop him, but what’s the point? I’d wake up with bruises on my wrists from him holding me down tightly. So I just laid there. Sadly, he wasn’t too keen on that either. He’d just hit that one spot hard over and over until I was a moaning mess beneath him, begging for him. Begging for what, I still don’t know. Most times he’d make me cum over and over, just because he knew I had no other choice. He knew that I thought bed was my last source of self control; he made sure to show me that not even there I could escape the way he wanted me to feel, to think. After he was finally finished he’d roll over and pull me to his chest. We spent every single night together. He’d caress my face and push the hair out of my eye and give me such a lust blown stare.

“You know I love you, right honey?”

He wasn’t really asking

“Do you love me too?”

If I said no he’d climb back on top of me and either deny me orgasms until I was begging for him to let me cum or he’d make me cum until I was too weak to say anything but the banter of his name and “I love you, too”

The “wedding” was stupid. That’s the only word for it. Nobody was in attendance, except the spider in the corner, but he acted like there was a full house. He made me walk down an “aisle” that was really from the bathroom to him in the middle of the main room. I wore a white gown that looked like it was plucked out of a I Love Lucy episode with a pearl necklace that would make Audrey Hepburn squeal. The shoes were kitten heels that made me feel like I was walking on glass. He wore a plain black suit with a bow tie. He gave a speech and gestured to people not there and then motioned to me. I repeated some of his lines like “I knew it was love when I first saw you” and “I couldn’t be happier than in this moment.” Then he slipped the ring on, we kissed, we signed a paper, and then we danced. During which we both cried. He cried because his twisted fantasy was going his way and I cried because I realized the weight of what I’d just lost. My freedom, my job (even if it sucked), my chance at a real beautiful wedding with the wedding dress of my choosing and the man of my dreams. Most of all I wept for my future. Where was I headed?

I don’t know why it took so long for me to get pregnant. For a while I just thought we couldn’t. The serum obviously had a negative affect on his swimmers. I wasn’t going to suggest this, of course. Then he would find another way to get me pregnant, and I didn’t want that. I could handle the cleaning, the cooking, the persona of a perfect 1940’s housewife, but a baby? Before this I didn’t really know if kids were in my future, but now that I was in the situation that I was in I knew I couldn’t bring a baby into these living conditions. Born into a prison they can never escape from. Some part of me feared it was my fault. I swallowed this theory as well, this could be worse for me than the other one. If u were the problem what would Steve do? It wouldn’t be as easy as letting me go, I’ve seen too much of his true side. The fear ate me alive for 3 years, the entire time I suffered in silence just like I did everything else. Steve didn’t seem too upset about my lack of fertility, and if he was he didn’t show it. He was always so... chippy. Three years straight and never once did he get angry about the lack of a child. One day I was cleaning the room when Steve came in. I immediately jumped up while a cold sweat came down my body. Why is he here? I didn’t cook dinner yet, will he be mad? I don’t have on my housewife dress yet, it gets in the way of my cleaning. He strode in like he’d been given a raise.

“S-steve?”

He hummed but didn’t look up from the bag he had carried in and was now looking through on the kitchen table.

“Why are you home so early? I haven’t made dinner and I’m not dressed properly yet...”

“That’s alright, darling, I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?”

My heart fluttered at this. Was he going to let me walk outside? Or was it more of an object gift? Did he bring me a cell phone? Or a watch? The only way I could tell time was when he woke me up to tell me he was leaving and that he needed a kiss goodbye. I knew I had a while before he got back but the actual time and date was lost on me.

He chuckled, again not looking up. “Well, two gifts actually.”

I start stepping closer, the anticipation killing me. He pulls out a box. He finally looks up and smiles at me. He pushes it towards me and says “open it.”

I do and inside is a onesie with a Captain America shield on it. Right next to it is a stick I’ve grown very accustomed to seeing with one line on it.

“Steve, I don’t understand..”

“I figured it’s been a while since the last time we checked. Why not give it another go, hm? I’m feeling lucky about this time.”

It was in that moment I became aware of everything in slow motion and HD. Was it always this hot in here? Is the basement really this small? Has the fridge always made such an annoying sound?

Steve walked me to the bathroom while I followed absentmindedly. I sat on the toilet and peed. It was in this moment I realized I couldn’t remember my last period. I also became freakishly aware that my stomach has been killing me for days and my boobs have been extremely tender. But I wrote them all off as being his fault. My breasts were because he was too rough in bed, my period being out of wack because I haven’t had contact with another female to sync up with (or maybe I just couldn’t remember because I had no sense of true time), and my stomach because I had been working tirelessly and I hadn’t seen the sun in years. As a timer on Steve’s phone, that I hadn’t realized he even pulled out, he immediately grabs the test. He grows a wicked smile and grabs me and gives me the tightest hug. Turns out it was his fault I was feeling the way I was feeling, it just had nothing to do with any of my theories.

After that he moved me upstairs. He made it such a big deal, I was just being moved from one prison to another. This prison was slightly nicer, though. He had a full kitchen that was bigger than the whole basement. A living room with a tv (I was on restriction from what I could watch but it was still better than those dusty books) A radio, that told me the time and gave me a date every morning (complimentary from man named Joshua Tucker that played the “best classics”). The biggest room in the house was the room I’d be sharing with Steve from now on. There were locks on the windows and doors that could only be unlocked by Steve’s handprint, but I at least got natural lighting up here. Down there all I got were a few dull lightbulbs hanging from the ceiling.

As Steve put it this meant more responsibility. More room meant more things to clean. He said he believed in me. He said I’d been a good girl lately and seeing as I’m not pregnant, I needed a better place to stay. He also mentioned that he wouldn’t hesitate to put me back downstairs if I didn’t behave. I believed him and decided that up here was better. So I behaved. He gave me prenatal to take and another medicine to help with my body’s pains. He was less rough with me in bed but he still had that edge to him. He always rubbed my growing belly, kissed it good morning and goodnight, and sometimes he would talk to it. Once I woke up to him reading to it. It was almost...normal.

One day while walking (more like waddling) around the house with my 3 month belly that, thanks to the serum, made me look 7 months. I came across a room I hadn’t been in yet. Steve didn’t introduce me to it so I hadn’t felt the need. I was ahead on my chores and the radio said I had a few more hours before I had to start dinner, so I let myself in. I figured if I were to get into trouble for going inside I would just tell Steve that I was trying to clean it, although lying with him was never my strong point. Inside was a nursery. A black toy car ford was in the corner, big enough for a toddler to ride around in. The crib was gray with a stuffed bear inside, the walls were a gray color, matching the crib, with a white accent wall. There was a changing table and the closet was open spilling at the seams with clothes. There was a toy box and a million picture frames that were yet to be stripped of their generic photos of a happy family. I knew this day would come, where would the baby sleep? It nonetheless freaked me out. It was too real. I was pregnant. I was locked in the house like a prisoner. My baby was now going to be a prisoner. Did Steve want a boy? Everything was a generic boy theme. There was even a photo album on the table that said “daddy’s little boy.” What would happen if it were a girl? I quickly leave the room shutting the door behind me. I look down the hallway and realize there’s several other rooms I hadn’t been in. Were they always there? How big could this house get? There were at least 7 other rooms and every one of them was a nursery. One was a boy nursery another was a girl, there was even a twin themed nursery. This was just baby number one.

By the time it was time for me to give birth, I was so big I couldn’t see a good 2 feet directly below and ahead of me. My hips hurt, my back hurt, my feet hurt. If I would’ve felt several kicks I would’ve said I was pregnant with quadruplets. I knew it was just a single birth, though. I always felt two feet kicking me on one side. I had no actual medical care, Steve said I didn’t need it. He said his grandmothers had given birth to both his parents at home with no problem and during their entire pregnancy hadn’t seen a doctor once. I gave birth on our bed. I felt like I was pushing for hours and the pain was the worst thing I had ever felt. Steve delivered the baby. He was a healthy looking baby boy, to which he named after himself. He had my laugh and my smile but his father’s everything else. Steve was right to name him after himself. The next pregnancies went the same way, none of them getting easier. Sarah was next, she was a spitting image of me, but she acted like Steve’s mother (or so he says). Next came the twins Peggy and Joseph, then Mary-Ann then Virginia-Lynn. I had no say in Sarah’s and Stave’s names but I chose the others. He did give me a list I was told to chose from, but I got the final say nonetheless. We filled up the house pretty quickly.

Now here I sit, pregnant, while Steve helps the kids open their presents. I made hot cocoa while the kids and Steve were out playing in the snow. I was allowed out while pregnant with Sarah, Steve said it was good to have fresh air while pregnant and Steve Jr was getting a little stir crazy while being kept in the house all day. I never tried anything, where would I go? What would I do? Who would believe me? It was better to just sit there, look pretty, while pregnant with my husband’s children. All with grace, too.

@jtargaryen18

[btsrmono]

Trial & Error | chapter 7

Main Pairing: (jimin): student/idol x (main): foreign student

Side Pairs: main x taehyung,, main x (nct) jaehyun

PART 6

"What it is?" Jimin asked, making you look up from your pizza to him.

 You sighed, leaning back on the couch sofa in your living room. You guys sat at the coffee table as you enjoyed each others company and forgot about everything you were both were stressed about for a while... Until he bought that up, at least.

"What is what?" you acted stupid.

"Y/n... Earlier. You were clearly crying in class today. What happened?" He bought his knees up to his chest and rested his chin on them, looking at you concerningly.

 You put your pizza down and breathed out, defeated. "I saw Taehyung today," you started. "And he just seemed... Not hisself."

"Yeah, he hasn't been lately," he agreed. "I think he's just upset that the fans are upset. Like, he doesn't want them to feel that way about him, you know? Just give it some time."

"But he told me not to talk to him anymore," you said.

"So what--"

"He seemed serious, Jimin."

He clenched his jaw before poking the inside of his right cheek with his tongue. "Forget him then--"

"No, Jimin, I'm not just going to just ‘forget him’. Tae is my best friend, he's all I had. I don't want him mad at me."

He sucked his teeth, seemingly getting mad. "So I guess I don't exist," he humped.

You cocked your right eyebrow in confusion. "Ummm say ‘sike’ because you and I didn't even start officially becoming friends up until about a week ago."

"But I'm here, right?"

"Yeah and I said he's all that I had, not have. Obviously, I have you right now but not too long ago, it was just him."

Suddenly, he looked sorry. "Oh," he said. "You're right. I'm sorry..."

 You shook your head after staring for quite some time. "No, Jimin... Don't be sorry." You rested your hand on his knee, reassuringly.

"I just want things to go back to normal," he whispered.

"Isn't your school almost done with the reconstruction?" you asked, placing your hand back in your crossed lap. "Maybe then, things will change."

 He shrugged. "They don't seem like they're getting done anytime soon, to be honest."

"Oh, I'm sorry. That sucks."

He smiled shyly at you. "No, actually, it's okay. I kinda like having class with you now," he said, winking.

"Jimin, are you flirting?" you teased.

"Maybe," he replied, biting his lip in a seductive manner and looking you up and down.

 You rolled your eyes, picking a pillow up and throwing it at his face. He instantly picked the pillow back up whilst laughing and gently tossed it back in your lap. You guys silently collected your fits of laughter together before Jimin turned to you again. "Hey, you still owe me ice cream."

"Ugh," you grunted. "Fine, let's go."

He smiled, jumping up quickly to go put on his shoes. You followed in his footsteps and both left the apartment, walking to the nearest ice cream parlor.

"Do you do this often?" Jimin spoke up in the midst of your journey.

"Do what?" you wondered.

"Walk alone at night like this."

"I'm not alone," you scoffed.

"Y/n, you know what I mean."

You shrugged your shoulders. "Sometimes. Why?"

He started to look at the ground as you two continued to walk. "It's just... You need to be more safe, okay?" You looked over at him, making him look back at you. "You're a pretty girl," he started. "And people can be crazy. Just start taking taxis everywhere. Got it?" He took his hand out of his pocket and roughly slapped his hand on your back right shoulder.

"Yah!" you yelled out. It was obviously just a playful hit that you doubt was meant to actually hurt but clearly Jimin just didn't know his power. "The only crazy person is you, you psychopath, who goes out to get ice cream while its cold outside?" you complained, rubbing your back shoulder in the spot where you could still feel some lingering pain.

 On your left, Jimin was just cracking up. You scowled at him, still lowkey upset about the hit but quickly getting over it as you both, unnoticeably, arrived at the parlor. "Aww, poor y/n," he joked, as he rubbed the spot for you.

 You pushed him off of you just before entering the store as Jimin followed, still laughing.

"What do you want?" you asked.

"What do you want?" he asked back.

"Mint chocolate chip."

He scanned the menu. "Melon," he decided.

 You shook your head, then paid for your order as Jimin found you guys a table to sit at. After handing him his bowl and sitting down across from him, you started to worry about something. "I figure this is a bad idea."

 Jimin tilted his head, picking his spoon up. "How so?"

 "It's just... Last time I was out with Tae--"

 "Oh please," he quickly cut you off. "Look around, there's no one here. You don't have to be paranoid, y/n." He started eating his ice cream, clearly not bothered at all. You, however, were still scared.

"I just don't want to bring you boys trouble, I've done enough already."

His shoulders slugged and you could tell that you were sucking the joy out of his pep. You hated to be the person to do that, you did. 

 A few pauses later, Jimin put his spoon down and reached across the table for yours. He scooped up some ice cream and put it in front of your mouth. "Open up," he said.

 You looked around, aware that the worker at the register was carefully watching the both of you. She was sitting, seeing what was about to happen next and Jimin saw this. "I dont care if they see," he said. “We're friends. Am I not allowed to hang out with you?"

Not wanting to argue back, you simply complied, opening your mouth as asked. You ate the scoop and looked at him. "Happy?"

He smiled. "It's good right? Now eat up, don't worry too much." He went back to his own bowl and began to make small talk.

 You started to remember what it was like the first time Jimin and you actually had your first real conversation. You realized it was just easy to talk to him about things. He was real but non-judgmental with you. He just wants the best for everyone and you found that to be so nice of him. He truly had a way with making you feel better about every situation and making you forget about things in the time being.

After a little while, you and Jimin walked back to your place, stopping in front of the main entrance. You saw your mom in the lobby, waiting for the elevator, making you turn to Jimin. "It looks like my parents are home," you spoke. "Guess that's your cue to go too."

 Jimin looked through the lobby, his eyes slightly widening. "That's your mom?" he questioned. You nodded your head. "She's beautiful! I see where you get your looks from."

 You playfully rolled your eyes as you laughed, placing your hand on his chest to slightly shove him. "Please, Jimin." You noted that this was his second time complementing your looks that night and not going to lie, you were flattered.

 He laughed too. "Alright give me a hug," he said, pulling you in before you even got the chance. You hugged him back tightly, grateful for him taking your mind off things for a while.

 "I'll see you later," you spoke, looking up at him. He looked down and shook his head in agreement before you both let go and he took off.

~~

You and Jimin had been hanging out a little less than usual due to him and the boys having multiple dance practices, meaning he would not only rarely show up to school but you rarley even talked or texted with him. Of course he tried to keep up with you when he could which was better than nothing, you guess. You just kind of missed him.

"Psstt," you heard from behind you. 

You turned around to find Kayla, another internatial student like yourself. "Hey," you said, smiling at her. "What's up?"

"I'm freaking out," she replied. "I didn't do my homework last night, I was too busy. Before class starts, can I pleasssee copy yours?"

 You shook your head, not minding as you grabbed your homework from your backpack and handed it to her. "You're a life saver!" she exhaled. She quickly copied your homework and within about two minutes, it was back in your hand. "Thank you so much!"

"No problem," you replied, ready to turn back around before she cut you off.

"Wait," she said. "Is it true, about you and Taehyung?"

 You sighed, not aware that that was still a thing. "People are still on that?" you asked, semi annoyed. It had almost been two weeks, you thought it was behind you.

She scoffed. "Of course they are girl, you snatched up two of the most wanted guys in this school.” She paused, thinking. “ Well, besides Jungkook and Jaehyun."

 You were confused, what did she mean? "Two?"

"Jimin and Taehyung," she responded in a ‘Duh’ tone.

 You stared at her for a quick second. "Well to answer your question, no. How bout' you spread that around the next time you decide to gossip?" you snapped. You don't know what it was but you were over it. This rumor ruined your friendship with Taehyung and you were sick of it following you around.

"Jesus, well excuse me," she said, putting her hands up in surrender. "It's not like it was me that started it."

"Well you're sure as hell not helping, no?"

"Attitude much?"

 You sighed. She was right. Normally, Kayla was really nice to you so although she was being annoying at the moment, you still couldn't help but feel bad for the way you spoke to her. "I'm sorry," you apologized. "I've just been really stressed."

Her face softened. "Yeah, you look it," she joked, a small grin appearing on her face. "Hey, if you're not busy after school, me and Heejin are gonna go grab some boba if you want to join us?"

 You thought it over. Having some girl company didn't sound too bad, it actually sounded like just the perfect plan to you at the time. It wasn't anything significant but given the fact that you only was hanging out with guys for most part, this seemed overdue.

"That actually sounds really nice right about now."

She shook her head. "Okay then, we'll just be waiting for you at the bus stop after school."

Just then, your math teacher walked in and you all started our work.

~

After a long day of 7 classes, you and the girls did end up hanging out. Kayla ordered matcha boba, Heejin ordered strawberry and you ordered coconut. The three of you got a table and sat down, discussing random things such as school and who they liked.

 “Taeyong is definitely the most handsome boy in our school,” Kayla stated.

 “Really?” you chimed in. “He is super attractive but he’s too mysterious.”

 Kayla threw her head back in admiration. “That’s what makes him hot, y/n!” she cried, making you giggle.

"Well, I hands down like Jungkook," Heejin said. "No doubt about it, he is my ultimate crush." She was swooning over him and got dramatically emotional at just the thought of him. "Ugh! My heart is beating so fast even thinking about him, I think I'm going to die!" she then plopped her head on the table as you and Kayla laughed at her silliness. "It's depressing," she said said in a muffled voice, her face still on the cold surface.

"You'll survive," you responded.

She lifted her head back up, looking at you curiously. "Wait, aren't you friends with Jungkook?"

 You scoffed, looking around to make sure no one at the surrounding booths heard that. "No," you responded. "I hardly know him."

"Oh, I just assumed because you and Taeh--"

 Heejin was interrupted by Kayla shoving her quickly as a means to get her to stop talking. Kayla cleared her throat. "So, y/n," she started, changing the subject. "Heejin and I were thinking about starting this club--a dance club and we were wondering if you would be willing to join?"

 Heejin gave her a look, scrunching her eyebrows together, as did you, wondering where this was coming from. "Me?" you asked. "Why me of all people?"

"Because," Kayla started. "I see how you are in class, you're a team player. I already know you would do well on our team. Plus, you just look like you can dance," she chuckled.

 Her explanation wasn't good enough and you were still confused. Heejin still looked confused too but she seemed to not want to bud into it.

"What do you say?"

You started to stutter. "I-I-I.... I, um... I'm not sure," you said. "Dancing isn't really my thing..." She suddenly started to look disappointed, which made you feel a little bad. "But I'll let you know," you added, wanting to give her a glimpse of hope.

She smiled again, shaking her head. A few minutes later, you then dismissed yourself and said your goodbyes before you headed out the cafe door to go home.

A/N: Surprise! Heejin is in this. She’ll be around a little more often now hehe okay stay tuned to see what happens next! <33

PART 8

[karmabansheenz]

Do I Stay or do I Go Now?

Well, everyone, this is it, my first ever Fanfic. I’m a Guy Ritchie super fan and I, like most, am obsessed with the character dynamics between Ilya, Solo, and Gaby.  As I attempt to pay homage to this, please forgive any faux pas! Trigger Warning: Fiction contains attempted sexual assault.  

1960’s

Napoleon Solo Ilya Kuryakin Gabriella ‘Gaby’ Teller

Who am I?

I’m an orphan. My Father was a Nazi rocket Scientist and my Mother – I don’t speak of her.  

I am not proud of my lineage, not many daughters of the Nazi regime are.

I don’t like to go on about myself and neither do I particularly enjoy talking of the past. Therefore, all you need to know is that in the pursuit of trying to locate my Father I was recruited by one Alexander Waverly of the British intelligence agency and have now somehow found myself embroiled within a covert operations team alongside a devastatingly incorrigible American CIA Playboy, Napoleon Solo and a giant brooding Russian KGB Agent, Ilya Kuryakin.  

Our codename; U.N.C.L.E.

“My, my Gaby.” Waverly tutted, jutting his short chin out as he admonished me, “We are particularly disinterested today I might say.”  

He wasn’t wrong, he was never bloody wrong but I refused to take the bait, instead, I simply folded my arms across my chest lounging further back in the dark leather armchair.  

Beside me, I felt Ilya tense, not one to approve of my ever being anything but the soft feminine creature he so yearned for me to be.  Unable to resist I, therefore, took a deliciously long, sweet time altering my crossed legs.  Fingers suddenly struck, ticking against his pressed grey trousers. It was a dead giveaway that I’d be successful in agitating him and only happy to further the strain I cocked my head and slipped the end of my pencil into my mouth.  

Napoleon’s sharp kick to the back of my chair startled me as I slid against the linoleum floor.  

“What?” I asked him doe-brown eyes wide.

“You know what. Take pity on Peril.”, the almost permanent natural quirk to his lips made it hard to take him seriously.

“Don’t speak for me, Cowboy.”  

I rolled my eyes at the deep gravelly growl.  

“Don’t do this, don’t do that.” I mimicked his surly monotone. “Can’t you ever have fun?”  

“It’s nice,” interjected Waverly in his overly dry clip, “to see that after two successful missions you’re still all such good friends. Now if you don’t mind,” the slap of a stack of folders hitting the desk echoed around Alexander’s office, “back to business.”  

I took the top folder scanning the front page of the dossier, paying particular attention to the small polaroid attached.  

“William Chisholm,” The ice in Waverly’s glass chimed as he swirled his whiskey around, “Philanderer, business tycoon, madman. Quite standard statistics for a man with naturally sadistic tastes. Rumor has it he’s grown tired of kidnapping and trafficking women for fun and now has decided that biological warfare is more ‘his thing.’”

“Sounds like a real swell guy.” Napoleon drawled rising and releasing the top button of his shirt as he helped himself to a drink. “So, what's the plan?”

“It's delightfully simple really.” Waverly’s eyes met mine. “He’s very, very partial to a particular type of woman. And we, well we just seem to have exactly what he's looking for.”  

“No.” Ilya stood his chair crashing against the floor. “Absolutely not.”  

I took the whiskey from Napoleon's outstretched hand and shot it back. “When do we start?”

Ilya took a menacing step towards me and ignoring him I stacked my feet up on Waverly’s desk, empty glass shaking in Solo’s direction for a refill. Waverly cocked an eyebrow at me and I smiled,

“Well...?”

***

“Let's run through this, again shall we?”  

Ilya towered over Napoleon, “I. Don't. Need. To. Go. Through. It. Again.”

Solo pushed on unperturbed. “Gaby and I will attend the event together in the pretense of being Husband and Wife.”  

“You are not-”

“Oh, for god's sake Ilya.” I turned from the window overlooking New York City’s grandeurs skyline, my small foot tapping against the plush mustard carpet. “It’s a good plan, Solo and I will-”

“You should be My Woman.” the big blond Russian barked.

“Yes, yes,” I waved my hand at him, “Because it worked so well the last time, we played pretend.”

“Face it Peril,” Solo fitted his sapphire cufflinks, adjusting the sleeve of his tailor-made shirt, “Once again our Little Iron Curtain Girl has the right of it. You couldn’t even standby and be mugged next to Gaby. How do you think you’ll behave when the entire goal is to try to have her accosted?” he slanted an eyebrow, expertly knotting his bowtie even without the use of a mirror.

Ilya’s huge hands curled into fists at his side. “I do not like this plan.”

“You don’t have to like it.” I sighed lifting my thick brunette hair over my shoulder as I turned my back to him. “Now, zip me.”  

Napoleon saluted me with his glass as he left the sitting room.  

“Gaby,” I felt the hairs on my neck spark to life as his large index finger pressed against the top of my spine, skimming down, dipping into the low curve of my back before he pulled at the zipper, quickly covering once exposed skin.  

I could feel the heat of his body behind me so close pressing inwards without moving. I turned, sliding the string straps of the dress up and over my shoulders as I craned my neck all the way back, just to look up at him.  

“Gaby.”

“It’s time.”  

I smiled at Solo’s perfectly timed call, feeling Ilya’s long fingers slide from the back of my neck where they’d briefly tangled into my hair.  

“No garter this time?” I quipped up at him. His light grey-blue eyes were sad as he reached into his pocket pulling out a large engagement ring with a familiar centered pearl, surrounded by diamonds.  

“No.” He took my hand, sliding the band onto my finger and this time I let him. “I will be listening.”

I smiled feeling my bottom lip tremble with a sudden stab of fear. “As usual.” was all I managed as we gathered to leave.

Ilya again balled up his fists, “I will be able to hear her Cowboy. But you, you do not let her out of your sight.”

Solo bristled, his pretty ego so easy to rattle, “Christ Peril, you think you’re the only one who cares about Gaby?”  

“Not out of your sight Cowboy!”

Napoleon wrapped the white minx coat around my shoulders and nodded at the Russian, suddenly utterly serious. The intensity of the moment made the fine hairs on my arms prickle.

I rested my tiny hand on Ilya’s wide chest, feeling the quick thud of his heartbeat, pearl winking from the overhead lights. “I will be fine Ilya. I’m a big girl.”

***

Solo pressed against me as we swayed to the live orchestra at the Charity Gala. It was always the same, deranged men hiding behind mountains of good deed diversions.  

“Spotted him yet?” Napoleon's warm whiskey-scented breath tickled over my ear and I moved to tuck my head under his chin scanning faces around us as he waltzed me across the floor. I spied ‘him’ suddenly striding down the main stairway, a stoic blond porcelain doll upon his arm.  

“Gaby?”

“Mm-hum.” I made the affirmation in my throat gently taking over the lead in the dance to turn Solo back the way we’d come.

“Well done.” he smiled down at me. “Ready?”  

I wasn’t, not really but when did that ever seem to matter?  

Dressed head to toe in red I knew I was hard to miss and though I was small, I was not oblivious to the desire to ‘protect’ that that brought out in most men. William Chisholm's character profile was simple. He liked a good chase and he certainly enjoyed taking things that didn’t belong to him. Therefore, in order to bait our trap well, Napoleon and I were really going to have to sell this sham marriage.  

My back now to the target I felt Solo’s hand slid down drifting over my backside. I reached behind me and gripped his wrist. “Naughty boy.”

“But Darling,” he drawled his middle American accent thick like honey. “It’s simply impossible not to misbehave when you look like this.”  

“But Darling,” I cooed, “This is not the time.”

His dark blue eyes flashed along with his smile and probably for the first time, this close I really, clearly understood what that azure gaze could do to a woman when you had its full attention.  

“It's always time.” he teased filling his hand and squeezing.  

I turned it up, giggling and slapping at his tuxedo covered shoulder. “Not here.”

His hand trailed upwards cupping my face and I turned away in a spin but was quickly pulled back and dipped over his strong arm. “At least play fair Mrs. Jones.”  

Laughing as he set me back on my feet, I noted eyes on us. Happiness did that, it drew people like flies, sucked them into its web. A few even softly clapped as he kissed my hand and led me from the dance floor deftly plucking two champagne flutes from a passing waiter. “To us.”  

I clinked glasses with him and sipped coquettishly.  

“Careful now.” he chuckled catching my chin in his thumb and forefinger, dipping to press his mouth against mine. My lips tingled and my knees wobbled as his tongue swept along my lower lip. I let my eyes shine; wasn’t sure I could have stopped them. “Shall we leave early?” he purred his gaze flicking quickly to the left.  

“I would hope not.”  

I pressed my fingers to my lips in feigned surprise, drawing away from the unfamiliar voice.  

Solo turned to face the cause of our interruption, shifting slightly so his body was between me and our Mr. William Chisholm. “Excuse me I don’t believe we’ve met.” He extended his hand, “Theodore Jones.”

Chisholm took it, his dark green eyes never leaving my face. “A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Jones.” Releasing Solo’s hand, he sipped from his own glass, eyes raking over me. “And who might this delightful creature be?”

‘Theo’ moved backward his hand again at my lower back, “Ah, allow me to introduce my beautiful wife, Olivia.”  

William took my proffered hand his thumb grazing my knuckle's as he pressed a lingering kiss. “Wife?” he glanced back at the porcelain doll. “Yes, I have one of my own though I must admit she seems rather dull compared to yours.”  

Solo cleared his throat, pressing me possessively against his side.  

William’s smile thinned. He was by no means an unattractive man, wavy black hair, tanned skin, fit build. But knowing what I did, I could see it. The underlying darkness that sequestered his inner demons.

“How have I never met your acquaintance, before now?” he inquired casually, too casually.  

Before Napoleon could answer I excused myself feeling both men's eyes on me as I weaved through guests in the pretense of needing the powder room. After touching up my lipstick and tucking away a few loose curls of hair I reentered and helped myself to a new glass of liquid courage.  

I was unsettled. I felt like I’d stared into the belly of the beast, and it had rattled me.  

Strolling through the wide corridors of the gallery I finally stopped before an abstract painting of two bodies intertwined. I drained the flute I held and reached for another, fingers colliding with Chisholm's.  

“Please, allow me.” he raised the glass, licking off the droplets that had spilled over the rim before handing it to me.  

I took it, trying to make every movement exaggeratingly slow. Through shuttered lashes, I stole a peek up at him and was pleased to watch his nostrils flare.        

“Where have you been hiding Mrs. Jones.?”    

I turned my back on him facing the painting once more. “Olivia, I insist.” Sensing him move rather than seeing him, I assumed he’d come to stand directly behind me.  

“Not Livi? Or Liv?”

His breath brushed my bare neck and I snorted into my champagne. “You insult me, William.”

“How so?”  

Looking back over my shoulder at him I again sipped my drink, “Do I look like a Livi or a Liv to you?” The question hung in the air, I felt the heat of it and cleared my throat putting space between us. “Besides I’m sure my husband told you of our recent adventures abro-.”

“He did,” William interrupted, “But I would prefer to hear your take on matters.”

I smiled, obviously wanting to make sure our stories matched I obliged him stepping slightly further away each time I felt him reach for the small of my back. “Is your curiosity quite satisfied?” I ended.

“No.” He breathed his movement more determined this time as he caught my wrist. Startled and playing the role I needed to, I tried to pull away. “Not at all I’m afraid.”  

I eyed him nervously.  

His smile flashed, predator-like. “I know your type Olivia.” he jerked on my wrist dragging me against his body. “You like to play at being in charge, but that’s just because someone hasn’t taken you in hand properly yet.”  

It was a risky move but I went with what my instincts told me as his hard mouth crushed down on mine. Reeling back I slapped him, immediately covering my mouth with my hands in shock.  

His eyes were alight. “Oh yes, I know your type indeed.”  

“I have to go.” I stammered.  

“Where are you staying?” he caught my upper arm, “Answer me.” his voice, though quiet, cracked like a whip.  

Impeccably timed as usual ‘Theodore’ appeared around the corner with my fur coat in hand. “Darling, there you are.” he slid me back into the minx, “We’re going to be late.”

“Another engagement?” Chisholm feigned polite interest.

“I’m afraid so.” Solo smiled.  

“Let me extend an invitation to you both to join me at my home tomorrow.”  

I pressed into Napoleons side averting my eyes from William. Letting the men speak, though made sure enough that Chisholm could see my shaky hand clutching at my husband's jacket lapel.

“It’s a little get together. A celebration of a job well done for tonight's event. I won’t take no for an answer.”  

“Well if that’s the case,” Theodore Jones quipped and the men shook hands again, “We’re staying in room 308 at the Waldorf if you would like to send the information over. Sadly, I must insist we leave now though.”

Knowing that Chisholm would expect further contact, I purposefully denied him interlocking my hands around Solo’s elbow as we nodded our goodbyes and slipped from the venue.  

***

  “Why must you always insist on behaving like this?”

I rubbed my head in my hands eyeing the half empty bottle of vodka sitting in front of me. It had been a long night, Napoleon made sure we had stayed out in case we were being followed.  So, of all the wonderful thing we could have done in New York City, we’d attended the god-awful opera for appearances sake and now, well after midnight, all I wanted was to drink myself to sleep.  

  “More importantly,” I complained, “Why must you always insist upon making me drink alone?” I shook the vodka at Ilya, “Besides, this is my room. So, I will drink how I like. In my room.”

 “You are like a little girl.”

Swigging straight from the bottle I waggled my finger at him.

  “Hey!” I cried out, dumbstruck as he moved suddenly, snatching it out of my hand and striding straight across the room, begin emptying the rest of my vodka down the bathroom sink.  

I flew after him, slapping my hands against his back and shoulders. I might as well be hitting a block wall for all the notice he took. One steely strong arm held me off as he poured out my only hope of a good night's sleep. “Stop!” I yelled resorting to yanking at his shirt.  

Finished he swung to face me his eyes a stormy grey. “I will do it.”  

I chewed on my bottom lip backing away from the raw heat of him, even as I stubbornly lifted my tiny chin, “Do what?”  

  “You. Know. What.”          

  “Pfft.” It was an un-lady like snort, my eyes daring him, “You had your chance in Istanbul and you didn’t.”

His face was stony as he towered over me “Do not speak to me of Istanbul.”

  “Why?”  

His palm struck the wall beside me. I didn’t even flinch.

  “Why Ilya?” I purred finger jabbing him in the chest before trailing down lower, “Is it because you liked it?”

His jaw ticked, “Stop.”  

My finger hit the ridge of his belt buckle, “Ilya?”  

He was staring at my hand, resting above the seam of his trousers.  

“Is it because you like to listen to me?” Tick, tock went his jaw again. “Did you want to watch me?”

Squealing I found myself suddenly tucked under his arm as he carried me from the bathroom. “What are you doing?!”  

Huffing as my elbow found his abdomen, he juggled his hold on me until I was face down staring at the ugly carpet of the suite's bedroom. I could feel the restrained violence in him. Actually, folded over his thighs I could feel all of him.  

His hands on my shoulder and hip pinned me and then he branded me with one.  

I couldn’t even cry out, or gasp.

The second one was harder, sharper and mouth open against the side of the bed I sucked in a breath at the third before coming to life. “Ilya stop it!” I scrambled to free myself from his lap, fists clutching at the bedding and his trouser leg. “Stop Ilya!”  

Four – Five.  

  “Ilya!” my blood pounded in my ears.  

Six.  

I screamed and he released me so suddenly I fell onto the carpet on all fours. Scrambling away I sat against the wall, hissing at the tenderness of my backside, ending up on my knees.  

  “Bastard.” It was a sob.

His eyes lifted from staring at his hands as if they didn’t belong to him, to my face and I read the regret in them, and... something else entirely.  

  “Russian Bastard.”  

Shame flickered across his aquiline features and my gut responded in kind. How long had I taunted him, teased him, goaded him into putting his hands on me?  

I had wanted him too and knew him well enough that nothing would have driven him to touch me like his anger would. We'd worked side by side for well over six months and other than wrestling in a hotel room in Italy he had only ever really touched me with his eyes. He didn’t think he was worthy of me; he didn’t think he was enough.  

And here it was, my moment to tell him, he was.  

And I couldn’t do it.  

On his feet suddenly he paced before me, long legs eating up the limited space in the room. Hands plowing through his thick blond hair before he froze in place, staring at the door to the room.

  “No.” I whispered.  

He made to move towards it and I grabbed one large hand in both of mine. “Ilya.” He looked past me still at the door, “Please,” I begged softly, “Please don’t leave me here on my own.”

The plea hung in the air between us. I pressed my forehead against the backs of his knuckles. “Please.”

And then...  

Finally, his strong long fingers wrapped around mine.  

***

“Good Morning.”  

Solo’s voice was irritatingly bland as if finding his partners together abed was nothing out of the usual. Granted we were both still completely clothed I was however fully curled atop the huge Russian like a happy kitten.  

Ilya’s arms that had been wrapped around me dropped away as the curtains were opened and sunshine stung our eyes. As we moved away from each other the Americans eyebrows did suddenly arch in surprise as I wiped quickly at the corner of my mouth and he spied the corresponding wet patch on Ilya’s shirt.  

The envelope in Napoleon's hand was waved in front of my face. I snatched it from him, broke the seal and scanned the contents as he dropped into one of the suites armchairs.  

Snorting I flattened it against Ilya’s chest in disgust.  

  “What?” Solo smiled drolly.

I looked up at Ilya watching his expressionless features as he read the letter and then reread it. “I don’t like it.” was all he said after a while and handed it over to the American.  

  “Oh, for god's sake,” I quipped heading towards the bathroom, “that's all you’ve said since we arrived!” Shutting the door, I slid back against it to the floor, my hands were shaking.  

  “So, it’s a different invitation than we were expecting.” Solo called out, “But it’s still an invitation.”

  “Oh wow,” the Russian drawled, “Love your logic Cowboy.”  

I pressed my face into my hands, I wanted my mother and that gross juvenile desire only fueled the rise of quickening anxiety I'd begun to experience. Splashing cool water on my face I flushed the toilet for effect and returned to the room, leaning against the wall as casually practiced, as I could.  

  “We go then?” even I was impressed with how disinterested I sounded.  

Napoleon's fingers drummed on the armrest.  

Ilya stared at me, I stared at Solo, Solo stared at the ceiling.  

The clock in the room ticked, ticked, ticked.

  “We go.”

***

  “You never cease to surprise me, Gaby.” Waverly signaled for the waiter as I removed my enormous white circled glasses and folding them placed them carefully in my handbag.  “Tea?” he asked.

I shook my head.  

  “Very well. Just the one tea then.”

I waited until we were left alone again.  “Thank you for coming to meet with me.”

  “Yes well, you didn’t really give me choice.” he cleared his throat and busied himself with his cuffs.  

I forced a smile.  

Again, we waited for the waiter to finishing serving Waverly his tea.

 “So?”

I watched people on the sidewalk outside the café, I couldn’t even bring myself to look at him when I made my shameful admission. “I can’t do this.”

The teacup clinked loudly as it hit the saucer on the table but I bravely continued,  

  “It's different this time. I just, I can’t.”

Alexander took a deep breath, leaning on his elbow’s he stapled his fingers in front him peering over them at me. “But I’m afraid Gabriella, that you and I both know, you don’t have a choice. Do you?”

I snapped my eyes to his and was shocked at the sadness there, it was genuine.  

  “Somethings different Waverly.”

He lent back, resumed drinking his tea and mused. “I’ve never lied to you Gabby. So, I won’t start now. He’s a dangerous man, but no worse than the dangerous men you’ve faced before. Remember who your uncle was?”

Remember who my uncle was? What a hellishly absurd thing to say, how could I possibly forget?  

Me? His innocent, pretty, little, trusting niece.

Waverly read the change in my expression and held up his hand, “Forgive me.” was all he said and we resumed a collective silence.  

  “He sent us, well I should say, my husband, this, this morning.” I slid it towards Alexander.  

I didn’t watch him read it; I had already memorized it.  

Mr. T Jones,  

I delightfully request your presence tonight at a rather intimate gathering at my home.   All I ask is that you bring your lovely wife with you of course, along with a very, very open mind.

R. Chisholm

Waverly pushed it back towards me, “What did he say when you met with him last night?”

  “He invited us to a party, a celebration to mark the end of the charity drive I assumed.”  The silence stretched out, “I’ve read the dossier, I’ve read his file, I know what he’s capable of. You all know, yet you all expect me to somehow walk in there as bait while you search for files.” Silence still, I was beginning to become agitated. “Me, my body, myself – for what? For paper? For documents?” I’d started to hiss.  

  “Gabriella,”

 “No!” I slapped the palms of my hands on the table. Wavery looked bored. “If I do this. If I do this thing for you, it is the last assignment Alexander. The last!”

He was lazily nodding, more so to keep the peace. I was drawing lots and lots of very unwanted attention.  

  “Say it.” My eyes dared him to refuse.  

  “Yes.”

I unpacked my sunglasses. “Say it properly.”  

Waverly crossed his arms and sighed. “Very well Miss Teller. After the successful completion of this assignment, I will release you from the task force, codename UNCLE.”

***

My Hands wouldn’t stop shaking. My mascara wouldn’t stop running. My heart wouldn’t stop pounding.  

I needed a drink.  

Startled as I left the bathroom and found Solo again in the armchair of my suite, I didn’t have time to paste on my normal bored façade.  

  “Where is Ilya?” I rushed out panicked that he too might see me in my current vulnerable state.  

Solo, ever the gentleman, was quick to pour me a drink, and then another. “He’s busy playing with his Russian tech.” his long slender finger wiped at my cheek coming away black.  

I hadn’t even realized I’d begun to cry again.  

Wrapped up suddenly in Napoleon's arms I felt him kiss the top of my head, “It will be over before you know it.” He rocked me slightly as my breathing softened, “We may even get to dance again. You danced divinely Mrs. Jones.”

I laughed, soothed by the natural confidence Solo exuded. “For a chop-shop girl?”

He pulled back to look down at me eyes sparkling as he winked, “For a chop-shop girl.”

The suite door suddenly crashed open and desperate to hide my very real fear from Ilya I flew back to the safety of the bathroom as he advanced quickly on Napoleon.  

  “Now Peril, it's not what it looked like!”

From within my sanctuary, I heard the sound of splintering furniture, followed by plenty of huffing and grunting.  

Fine, I thought, just fine. Let them tear the place to shreds. They’d been acting like caged bears with sore heads ever since we arrived, it would do them both good to burn off some steam while I somehow got myself together.  

***

  “You’ll never get in.” Solo mocked.

  “I will.” Ilya was dusting the sleeves of his tuxedo as we emerged from the Mark X Jaguar and Solo handed the keys to the awaiting valet.  

  “No. You won't.”  Napoleon retorted

  “Watch me work Cowboy.” At the last minute, the Russian disappeared leaving just the two of us to be received at the front doors of the mansion. Wealth had never impressed me, Alexander Vinciguerra had tried to dazzle me with his enormous fortune in Italy, and I was even less moved as I stood in the ridiculous chandeliered foyer of William Chisholm’s ‘home’.

A home had to have a heart and I knew enough about this one's owner to know that wasn’t possible.  

  “Theo!” The booming cry came from down the hallway. “So good of you to join us.”  

The men heartily shook hands and I pressed tighter against Solo’s side.  

  “So good of you to bring your little wife too.”  

He gestured for us to follow him and I kept step with ‘Mr. Jones.’

  “You picked our curiosity with your strange invite William. We weren’t quite sure what to make of it, were we Darling?”

I smiled, shaking my head. “No, it was very vague.”

William laughed; it was forced. “Well you can’t go around advertising your personal life when you’re an upstanding citizen like myself.  I couldn’t quite risk openly inviting you to a swinger's party, having just met you.” His eyes never left my face as he spoke. “How would I know if you’d go straight to the papers, invite in hand.”

At the mention of swinging my heart dropped to my stomach, my fears confirmed and I pulled sharply on Solo’s arm, “Theo, we should go.”

  “Now see here,” Solo began squaring off with William “This is absurd, I-”

  “Mr. Jones, I specifically requested an open mind,” the quick clip of shoes told me at least three men were approaching us from behind. “I’ll be so disappointed if you tell me you’ve left that behind.”  

I peered over my shoulder at the same time as Solo, acknowledging the presence of the three large suited men. The message was clear.  

  “I suppose, err that is, there is no harm in a married couple broadening their horizons.”

William clapped Theodore on the shoulder, “Yes indeed! Well said Mr. Jones.”  

We followed Chisholm into the next room, Solo having to drag me the rest of the way.  

  “If it was good enough for the Romans and the Greeks!” William declared pushing red wine glasses into our hands, “It’s good enough for me.”  

I turned my back on the debauchery before me, cheeks flaming from the site of half-naked men and women openly coupling in front of one another. Gulping at the wine, Solo’s hand had ended up pressed against my abdomen and I could feel the tension in him. Being a handsome, quick-witted Playboy was one thing but this was too lewd, too base. I knew he disapproved.  

Seeing the stricken look on my face William countered, “Perhaps a quiet alcove for a gentler immersion?”

I allowed myself to be led and sat docilely beside Napoleon.  

  “Theo, let me properly introduce my wife, Tatiana?”  

The demure porcelain doll from the night before had been replaced by a lively half-dressed one that happily trotted over, arms wrapping around her husband as her eyes undressed mine. Although nowhere near as tall, her sharp facial features reminded me of Victoria Vinciguerra. I disliked her immediately and by the tightening of Solo’s hand on my knee, he’d made the unpleasant comparison also.  

  “Darling, are they here to play?”  

Napoleon cleared his throat as she moved towards him and not even having to act my eyes filled with tears. I didn’t want to see this; this sort of thing wasn’t for me.  

  “Olivia?” my husband called as Mrs. Chisholm suddenly perched on his lap and began to undo his tie.  

  “I’m fine.” I stammered, glancing around. I needed to get this over with, fast. “Where are the facilities?”

William gestured to the other side of the room and without delay I made a beeline for it. I didn’t dare look around until I was outside in the hallway again.  

Trembling, I was so far out of my depth.  

Thankfully alone, I slid past the obvious powder room making my way quickly up the stairs looking for a study. All our intel had said was it was in the left wing but so far the only bedroom after bedroom lined the hall.  

I was beginning to panic; I could feel the bubble of it rising up threatening to choke me as I opened the final door - to the master bedroom. Heat flashed behind my eyes, there were no more rooms to check.  

Hands against my heaving rib cage I stole one last look around the master bedroom, a tiny sliver of light I hadn't seen before winking under an internal doorway, into which - was a study.  

I had never shaken so much or worked so fast in my life. The bottom drawer was locked and running my hands under the desk I hit a secret compartment, my fingers touching the cold metal of a key as the sound of the outside master bedroom door closing reached my ears.  

I don’t know how I managed it but the key was back in place, papers folded and tucked in my purse and I was standing at the far side room, a book, hastily plucked from the wall to wall shelves, open and in hand as Chisolm entered.

Mask in place I turned slowly.  

  “Can I help you with anything?” he asked nonchalantly leaning against the desk I had been rummaging through only seconds before.  

I took a deep settling breath, “Books comfort me.”

He smiled lazily, “I think you were more comfortable downstairs than you want to admit, Mrs. Jones.” He crooked a finger at me. “Come, show me what novel was more interesting than getting to know me better?”

I obeyed, handing him the book and he briefly eyed the cover before placing it on the desk. “Emily Bronte. She has a unique way of describing love.” he mused as he lifted my hand to cradle his tanned face. “Will you haunt me I wonder?” he turned me suddenly, roughly, unzipping the back of my dress.  

I went numb. I had what I needed, clutched stupidly between my hands, by all accounts the job was done but my limbs started to go cold with the realization that this time there may not be any escape.  

  “Theo?”  

Chisholm’s lips pressed against my shoulder urgently as he took the purse out of my hands throwing it to the floor and yanked my dress down to follow it. “Where’s Theo-” I cried out as his hand tore into my hair, scattering pins as he wrenched me back to face him.  

  “It seems your husband can’t handle his wine, Mrs. Jones.”

In any other circumstances, I might have found it funny that once again the great Napoleon Solo had been easily incapacitated by another spiked drink, instead, my teeth chattered. “William,”  

  “Shhh, shhh, shhh.” His hand was still fisted in my hair as he lowered his forehead to mine, “Looking at you I think I do finally understand what drove Heathcliffe mad.” His teeth crushed against my lips as he forced his thick tongue inside my mouth.

Everything in this moment was predator verse prey and as the prey, I froze. William laughed amused as I screamed suddenly pinned underneath him on my back. Stars burst in my vision, as after successfully raking my nails down his face he struck me, hard and the back of my skull bounced against the floor.  

I fought to stay conscious, “Stop - stop – stop-”  

And then... he stopped.

Over-aroused by my terror Chisholm hadn’t heard the large blond Russian enter the room, he didn’t have time to feel the long blade slip deftly in between the back of his ribs. All he had time for was a wide-eyed stare a question on bloody lips as his head hit the carpet beside mine.  

Ilya ridiculously casual, rolled the dead man off of me, shucking his impossible shoulders out of his jacket and then dressing me in it.  

 “Ilya.”

He brushed the hair from my eyes watching where I pointed and gathering me in his arms, stooped to pick up the discarded purse before leaving the room. Exiting the mansion from a side door I soon found myself tucked inside the back of the Jaguar, large hands holding the sides of my face. “Gabby, look at me. You will wait here.”  

I shook my head at him. “Ilya,”

  “You will wait here and I will be back how Cowboy says, Lick it Spit.”

I didn’t have time to correct him, he was already gone.  

***

    “Gabby, stay awake.”  

Solo’s drawl sounded foggy in my ears.  

  “I’m sorry Gabby.”

I must be in shock, Napoleon never apologized.  

***

   “Gabby, wake up.” -  Ilya’s curt clip.

  “I suppose a thank you is in order.”  - Solo.

  “No.”

  “That's twice now you’ve saved my ass Kuryakin.”

  “Three times, if you count Istanbul.”

Solo chuckled beside me. “Well then, damn. I guess I really do love your work Peril.”

***

Too much to drink Ilya had told the concierge as he carried me through the lobby and knowing our room number and how often I requested room service for a ‘top up’ I guessed it was an easy sell.  

  “Ilya.”

His steely blue eyes were at my level as he knelt beside the bed and removed my shoes which after everything were still absurdly on my feet.  

  “I don’t want to talk Gaby.”  

He was angry. Very.  

  “Ilya.” I touched his cheek, “I’m sorry.”  

Unplanned, it had come out in a sob and unbelievably I watched the Russians eyes redden.  

“No, I’m sorry.” he croaked his accent even thicker than usual, “I should have been faster. I was too slow.”

Hot tears streamed down my face, he and I both knew he’d been just in time but I couldn’t form the words. I couldn’t reassure him that somehow my body had remained unmolested. I couldn’t speak past the lump in my throat because it was so clear now. Clearer for me than it had ever been before.  

As soon as we had arrived at the mission, all I had wanted was to be safe in Ilya Kuryakin’s iron curtain embrace. Whenever I was scared or unsure, he called to me, like a lighthouse to a lost ship looking for port.

He was my church, my sanctuary. He was, home.  

It wasn’t practiced, it wasn’t restrained. I threw my arms around his neck, pressing my lips against his. Fervently. Urgently.  

Months of unspoken sexual tension exploded, utterly engulfing us both and hands that I had witnessed committing the most violent of acts suddenly touched me like I was the most precious object in the world.  

Softly, tenderly Ilya worshiped all of me showing me wordlessly how much he cared and how much he loved.  

Crying out against each other's lips at the end, he crushed me to him, as if he wanted to take me inside his body and unable to resist, I kissed him, and kissed him and kissed him.

And kissed him.                                                                                                       

***                             

Sitting down to breakfast the next morning, Russian on my left, American to my right I stopped buttering my slice of toast as Alexander Waverly entered the dining room.  

The folded newspaper tucked under his arm looked larger than normal and following my gaze he sighed,  

  “Yes, well I suppose I can’t say it was a total disaster, considering.” he jostled the paper to make a point. “But killing the man wasn’t really necessary, was it?”  

Cutlery clanged onto the table from both the left and right of me and sensing his error in judgment Alexander took a quick step back. “Fine then,” he held up his free hand, “What's done is done, Lads.”  

Sighing Waverly looked down at us all, his ragtag group of ‘professionals’. “I guess you’ll be saying your goodbyes then Gaby?”

My left hand pressed quickly overtop Ilya’s to stop the sudden ticking fingers on his thigh, large pearl winking from the overhead lights,  

  “No Alexander. No, there won’t be any goodbyes.”                                                                                

[tompen94]

Ranting about Kingdom Hearts III (cuz I just finished it, SPOILERS AHOY)

Follow-up post to: https://tompen94.tumblr.com/post/181689323487/ranting-about-kingdom-hearts-cuz-i-just-got-into

Okay... Uhhh... So that was... a lot to process...

I have finished KH3 with all of the chests and Lucky Emblems found. I tried my hardest not to just rush through the story, but I am not gonna pretend like I know shit as I am a pretty casual gamer. This is just an aggregate of my thoughts on the game.

If you want a review here it is: GET THE FUCKING GAME RN

I won’t be holding back any information. This is your official spoiler warning.

Spoilers below the cut (if it even works).

Gameplay

As I said in my KH Rant post (click the link goddammit), this was my first experience with the gameplay of the series.

It took some getting used to, my muscle memory kept telling me that X was to jump so I got stuff wrong in the beginning but I got the gist of it towards the end. Didn’t use as much magic as I wanted though, using the d-pad means not using the analog stick, which means remaining still in the middle of a fight while I decide which magic to use and, in the case of Cure, who to use it on. (Yes I’m aware of shortcuts and I used them but I still have to use the d-pad to change which set I’m using)

However, I liked the combat system in general. I’m sure it is something that comes with time and my issues with it can be honed out with more practice.

Wasn’t too hot on flowmotion though, at least in the beginning when you don’t have abilities like Air Slide. Using flowmotion in battle was pretty hard for me to do at first because of this. I had heard of how OP it was in DDD and I tried to use it a bunch in Thebes but because of my low success in even activating the thing properly, I stopped using it until I got to the Ice Labyrinth in Arendele. I started using it moderately after that.

The Lock-on laser thingy was something I thought I was going to use a lot since I had seen it being used pretty often in gameplay of the other KH games. However I barely used it. But it was pretty satisfying locking every beam onto a single target and then one-shot them with it.

Finally the situation commands. Loved them. My most used button other than X is the Triangle. Always use situation commands. It’s always a benefit. (Also Rage Form heals you and gives you super fast combos. Fucking neat!)

Favorite things and stuff

Favorite playable keyblade: Kingdom Key

Call me basic or whatever. The Kingdom Key was my main Keyblade and I barely swapped it out throughout the game. It is by far the weakest keyblade, I know. But I just like it so damn much, I kept it as my main. So yes, you can finish the game just with the Kingdom Key. If you don’t mind farming Adamantite and Electrum to upgrade it to the max, that is. I was planning to swap it out for ‘Dawn till Dusk’ but that was before I found out it was an Amazon pre-order exclusive (LAAAAAME!!!!).

Favorite keyblade in the series: Way to the Dawn

I like Riku’s new keyblade but Way to the Dawn looks so goddamn cool. Its look also tells a story, it’s an imprint of Riku’s character arc throughout the series. It’s a bit of a shame that they had him change it.

Favorite Worlds: Corona & The Caribbean

Corona is stupid pretty. And a fun world to explore and jump around in. I love how they recreated certain environments just for the scene of Rapunzel being at war with herself. You can actually go to those places! Also the Kingdom itself is just beautiful. Corona is the place I took most selfies on. Also:

(I will protect this smile with my life)

The Caribbean is basically its own game. Most worlds have one fun addition to the combat or the level design, like the Gigas in Toy Box, or even Rapunzel’s hair during the story portion of Corona. However the Caribbean gives you a ship and a whole new set of mechanics with it. It’s also a massive world, 56 goddamn chests to find. It feels so satisfying to sail to an island, get to the very end of it and find a butload of chests to open. Also Sora looks cool as fuck in his pirate costume.

Most disappointing worlds: Arendele & San Fransokyo

I wish it wasn’t so but Arendele wasn’t as much as I expected it to be. Don’t get me wrong, that ‘Let it go’ sequence is fucking phenomenal and I fanboyed out on it a lot, but the world itself isn’t all that interesting to me. You don’t even get to visit the Kingdom, just the mountain. And after you finish the story, the game teases you with Elsa’s Ice Castle, but guess what, you ain’t entering it either. Instead of the Ice Labirynth, I would much rather have had a level inside Elsa’s castle.

As for San Fransokyo, Why can’t I freely go to the bridge? Why is it locked to that one combat scene and then never seen again? And the city itself is confusing to traverse in. Even with the map I frequently lost track of where I was. The streets are also too wide, the only way to go through them quickly is if you’re a boss at using the Lock-on+Square thing, but I suck at it, so I’m just spamming dodge-roll to get through it a little faster than running. If the streets were narrower, it would be different, because then I could use flowmotion off of the walls and zip around like Deku was doing in the fight against Stain. Now THAT would’ve been cool. BGM is lit though.

Favorite characters: Sora & Riku

This is a topic I’m constantly changing my mind on, I like every single one of the main characters. Some more than others, yes, but I’m constantly jumping around between Sora, Riku, Roxas, Ventus, Aqua and Mickey. For now though, I’m going with Sora and Riku.

Sora’s a whole lot more chilled out in this game. And I really like that. In KH2 whenever he wasn’t trash-talking or involved in slap-stick with Donald and Goofy, he was moping around thinking about Riku and Kairi. It’s really nice to see him more carefree and I believe his character is greatly improved with this.

As for Riku, he’s kind of the opposite to Sora? I think his character shines the most when put under duress. We don’t see much of that in KH3, but we get plenty of it in the rest of the series. His constant struggle with the darkness makes for a pretty compelling character arc. Though I do think his peak was in KH2, when he was the ‘Get stuff done’ character alongside Mickey.

The Ending

And here we are... I still don’t know what to make of that ending... This story is filled to the brim with feel-good moments and then it ends on such a conflicting note for me. What comes to my mind is: Why Nomura... Why?

When Aqua returned to the Realm of Light and cried of happiness, I had the dumbest smile in my face.

When Ventus woke up and said “Good Morning, Aqua”, I had the dumbest smile on my face.

When the keyblades from the past came to participate in the ‘Rape-the-Triangle-button’ sequence of this game, I had the dumbest smile on my face.

When Terra (he did nothing wrong) reunited with Aqua and Ven, I had the dumbest smile on my face.

When Roxas returned, I had the dumbest smile on my face.

When Xion cried tears of joy on reuniting with Axel and Roxas, I had the dumbest smile on my face.

And then... at the end Sora fades away? What the fu-WHY? I actually still have a knot in my stomach over this.

Let’s put that aside for now, let’s not forget the fact that while the stuff in Back Cover and Union X did play an important part, it got fuck-all closure. Everyone’s chasing that Black Box but it amounted to nothing in this game. There are 7 new Princesses of Heart and we only see 3 of them. Also why couldn’t Luxu just be Luxu?

All of this could’ve been forgiven though. If everyone had a happy ending that is. But coupling all of this with Sora vanishing at the end... I can’t let it pass. This doesn’t feel satisfying. Goddammit Nomura!

Maybe this is just my knee-jerk reaction. Maybe I’ll see more positives in this ending over time, after I’ve digested it. But for now, this is how I feel...

I also have conflicted feelings about Xehanort’s redemption but I can stomach this one much more easily. While I don’t think adding this in was necessary, I also think it’s harmless. Giving Xehanort a ride off into the sunset instead of just a death is fine by me.

Some other things

Wasn’t it confirmed that Kairi would be playable? :(

Speaking of which, it certainly would’ve been nice to have some sort of Mission Mode a la 358/2 Days to be able to play as other characters. You only play as Riku twice and as Aqua once. Most of the MCs were fully playable at one point or another in the franchise so it would’ve been nice to be able to do so in some capacity in this game. Couldn’t you at least let me fight Terranort as the Lingering Will?

WHY DOES THIS GAME LOOK SO GOOD

I’m sorry if this felt like a bit of a downer. I guess I’m... grieving over Sora? Never thought I’d say something like that. I know that he “comes back” in the secret movie, along with Riku and... Yozora (I thought he was just a parody of Noctis?) and the Master of Masters. But I wonder how that ties into the Foreteller stuff we saw with XigbarLuxu. Also why is Riku there?

May your heart be your guiding key

[steady2576]

I could see you coming down the road for a couple of hundred metres or so, you looked like any other ordinary woman in her work uniform. As you passed other people on the footpath you would smile or say hello, they probably thought that you were an ordinary woman on her way home from work. As I watched you get closer, I just smiled to myself and thought that you had this certain type of look in your eyes. The type you sometimes see from a junkie when they know that they're about to get their next fix. Your drug of choice isn't smack or crack or ice, no your drug of choice is cum, my cum.

As I watch you get closer I know how badly you want your fix, there's over 20 texts on my phone from you telling me what you want me to do to you and how you can't wait to feel my cum inside of you and how you want to taste my cum. So to really drive you crazy, I text you to tell you that I will be another hour away and just let yourself in. As I watch through the windows you receive the text, as you read it your shoulders slump forward and you put your head in your hands. For a moment I think that you are about to cry and my stomach turns because that was not the intention.

You walk straight past the window that I'm watching you from without seeing me, looking very unhappy. You go to the back door of my place and let yourself in with your key. As you walk through the kitchen a little smirk crosses your beautiful face, no doubt remembering what took place on that kitchen bench only a few days ago. You have no idea that you are not alone in the house. You walk into the lounge room and stand at the back of the couch bending over it to reach the remote for the TV. As you stand up I quietly come up behind you grabbing you from behind with one arm and covering your mouth with my other hand. You let out a scream that would wake the dead except for my hand covering your mouth. You struggle to free yourself because you know that I won't be home for at least another hour,that's what the message said. Then something very familiar strikes you, the hand covering your mouth, you've felt that hand before, that forearm around your waist you've seen that before, then you realise that even though you're being held against your will from behind you feel somehow comfortable with it.

As I feel you relax, I gently kiss you on the side of your neck and whispering in your ear, I ask how your day was. You tell me that you hate me for doing that to you, and going by the bulge that you can feel pressed against your ass, obviously I thought it was a great joke. You tell me that although you were scared, there was a little part of you that was turned on by the whole thing, as you are telling me this you are licking and sucking on one of my fingers while rubbing the front of my pants with the palm of your hand.

I tell you about what I was thinking watching you walk down the street earlier, you tell me that you love the idea of being a cum junkie, so long as I'm your dealer. With that you turn to me looking straight into my eyes and kiss me hard on the lips, your hands start to undo my buttons on my shirt, but they won't come apart fast enough so you break the kiss take a step back and tell me to rip that shirt off. As I rip the buttons off and my shirt opens up, I can see a hunger in your eyes, it's like you're a lioness and I'm your prey. You step back in to me this time you bite my neck, hard. As you are sucking on my neck your hands are unbuckling my belt and unbuttoning my jeans. I try to pull you off my neck but you have a vice like grip on it. As your hand sides down the front of my pelvis and you wrap your hand around my fully erect hard cock, I completely forget about my neck.

Your hand slowly strokes my cock, sliding up and down the full length of my shaft. You finally stop biting and sucking my neck, you tell me that you are just marking your Territory and you hope that I didn't mind. With the feel of that soft skin of your hand on my cock and the look in your eyes I would have agreed to anything you wanted right then. You kiss me again this time a little more playful, with your eyes locked on mine and my hard cock still being stroked by your hand, you start to kiss your way down my chest and stomach never once breaking eye contact.

So there I am standing in my lounge room, pants around my ankles a ripped open shirt and the most beautiful girl now on her knees in front of me with my rock hard cock in one hand, her lips just about touching the head of my cock staring straight into my eyes and wearing her fucking work uniform. I thought to myself if I die right now, I'd die a happy man. I just watched as you slid your hand all the way down to the base of my cock then gently started kissing my cock, first the shaft, then the head where you ran your tongue on the underside of the head and nearly made me cum. Never once did you break eye contact with me. I told you that I wanted to fuck you right now, but you said that nothing was going to happen until you got your first taste of my cum.

With that being said you put your lips on the end of my cock, your tongue parts your lips and touches the underside of my cock, your eyes never leave mine. You kiss the head of my hard cock, then I watch as my cock slowly disappears into your mouth inch by inch into that gorgeous hungry mouth. I see your eyes start to water as you feel my cock touch the back of your throat, you never take your eyes off mine. I hear you gag as you force my cock deep in your throat, I feel the warmth of your saliva on my cock as you get past the gag reflex stage. Then I see the tip of your nose touch the top of my pelvis, for the first time in my life a girl has completely swallowed my whole cock. Then you start fucking your own mouth with my cock, saliva starts to flow out of your mouth down your chin all over the front of your shirt. As I watch you fucking my cock with your mouth, you grab my hand and put it on the back of your head. I grab a handful of your hair and pull it tight against your scalp, the only thing that comes out of your saliva filled mouth is yes. Still with you staring straight in my eyes I start to move your head with my hand, faster and faster, saliva running out of your mouth, your eyes watering so much that it looks like you have been crying all day. I tell you that I'm going to cum, you force my cock deep inside your mouth and throat. As I cum I can feel your throat opening and closing around my cock as you fight off the gag reflex. I throw my head back breaking eye contact for the first time, you slap me hard on the chest, I look down at you and you're pointing at your own eyes telling me not to break contact. Once again you slide my cock out of your throat and then back deep deep down into the back of your throat, once again I feel your throat convulse around my cock, this time it's too much to bear, you start to pull away but this time I grab your hair and pull you further down onto my cock, this time you are moaning and gagging and the convulsions in your throat are so fast that it makes me cum deep in your throat. As you pull your mouth off my cock, saliva starts running out of your mouth and onto your shirt. It's your saliva mixed with my cum this time, as it hits your shirt you tilt your head down pull your shirt up to your mouth and suck it off your shirt.

After you have completely cleaned up the last trace of my cum with your mouth, you tell me that now you've had a appetiser you want the main course.

[cryingbilldenbrough]

Pls write something with Will in the IT universe omg.. . I would literally die that would be some good coming from you.

Will Byers doesn’t remember much about Derry, Maine.

It had been more of a rest-stop than a home, he knows that much is certain. He and his mom moved there that summer after Jonathan graduated high school, packing up their station wagon with Will’s colored pencils. A change of scenery, she called it, a chance to stretch our legs.

Will knows they were running away. But the bitter bite of cowardice had nothing on the relief he felt seeing Hawkins in the rearview mirror.  

Now when he conjures memories of that single school year, his ninth grade year, he only comes up with faint flashes of color. Blue lockers and green grass and a red two-story house next door. He remembers ice-cold water and a rope swing in somebody’s backyard and lifting the door of some clubhouse, hidden away from the world.

A honking laugh, a hand clapping his back, a red balloon.

The memories don’t gain solidity until Mike Hanlon calls, late late at night.

Will rolls over in bed and picks up the landline, cradling the phone between his shoulder and his ear. His bedroom window is open, fall air blowing in and ruffling the curtains. The sounds of scratching branches and crunching leaves would have scared him a lifetime ago, would have reminded him of a summer spent in another World, but now they calm him. He can’t sleep in the lonely loud silence of his apartment, he needs a reminder of life outside his own, nature outside his window.

“Hello?” he asks softly, far too tired to speak louder than a whisper.

“Is this Will Byers?” a voice asks on the other line, honey-smooth and familiar.

“Yes,” Will whispers. There’s a peaceful silence for a moment, like time has stopped and the entire world is spinning around Will Byers, phone in hand. And then the voice shatters the peace and Will’s world with a single phrase.

“Will, it’s Mike. Mike Hanlon.”

“Mike,” Will breathes. “Can you believe I’d forgotten all about you?”

He hears Mike sigh on the other end of the line, crackly and distorted from miles of distance. Mike sounds older but still just as warm, a voice Will remembers from that singular school year spent tucked away in a sleepy Maine town. The fractured memories start to gain a little clarity, get context within his brain. For example, he remembers the tire swing was in Bill Denbrough’s back yard, which is a name he wouldn’t have been able to conjure up if you asked him for it just moments ago.

“I can believe it, all right,” Mike says. Will’s mind is racing, repressed memories floating to the surface all at once and it’s hard to grab hold of one and right himself. They slip through his fingers, like he’s drowning and trying to climb to the surface by grabbing hold of slippery seaweed.

And then one memory sticks out.

He remembers unpacking his room at the house in Derry, an attic bedroom with a small window that looked out across the neighborhood.

He had already filled his bookshelf, breaking down cardboard boxes as he went in order to create some actual floor space in his already small room, and then moved on to hanging and folding his clothes. The closet had a musty sort of smell, like mothballs and dust mixing together and Will cracked the window open in order to air the room out as much as possible.

The sounds of the day drifted in through the open window, the hum of a lawnmower cutting grass down the street and feet slapping on pavement. There was a shout from down below, a sort of yelp, and Will peered over the edge of the windowpane to investigate.

There were two boys across the street, probably a year or so older than him, and they were wrestling in the grass in front of a green bungalow house.

“Get off me, Richie!” the one boy yelled, pushing his friend and trying to roll over on top of him. He looked too small to do any real damage though and Will watched as the other boy, Richie, easily held his arms down with one hand and tickled his stomach with the other.

“Say uncle, Spagheds!” the boy on top shouted, pausing the tickling to push his glasses back up his nose. The brief moment of respite allowed the smaller kid to catch Richie by surprise and knee him in the stomach, forcing him to let out a choked gasp as he collapsed to the side dramatically.

“I’ve been assassinated!” Richie cried, “Killed by my own Eds!”

“You got grass stains all over my shirt, Trashmouth,” the little one whined, pulling the edge of his shirt out to look down at it. Sure enough, it had green smudges all over it that even Will could see from across the road. “Ma’s gonna kill me!”

Richie leaned over and helped to brush a bit of grass out of Eds’ hair and Will suddenly felt like an intruder, like he was watching the private moments of these strangers. It was nothing more than friendly wrestling but it felt like these boys had a bond Will could only dream of.

He suddenly missed his friends back in Hawkins more than he could bear, so much he felt the sadness would fill up his insides and drown him, and Will closed the curtains before it could settle inside him any more. He set back to unpacking, hearing the sounds of the boys outside drift down the street, carried away by the summer wind.

When he comes back to himself, Mike is continuing on the other line.

“Will, I’m calling you about Derry,” he’s saying, “I’m calling you about It,”

It.

Such a small word to send bone-chilling terror into Will, to inject his blood with ice. He shivers underneath all his blankets, his palm on the phone growing clammy with nervous sweat, and swallows audibly. The trees continue to creak and groan outside his window and Will almost finds them fear-inducing now, almost likens them to the creaking and groaning of bones, brittle and breaking. He has a flash in his mind of It, of Its lair, of Its terror.

“Do you remember Bill?” Mike asks and it feels like he’s constantly changing the subject on purpose, to keep Will on his toes and keep him from spiraling down into a crazed despair, mad over the memories of It. Will latches onto his voice, lets the warmth remind him of the good times and distract him from the bad.

“Of course I remember Bill,” Will answers, thinking of his friend’s blue eyes and stutter. He loved Bill, he remembers, they all did. It was impossible not to fall in love with Bill Denbrough, impossible not to be drawn into his cosmic aura of protectiveness.

Mike chokes out a laugh on the other line, almost as if he’s wrapped up in the same memories as Will, remembering being ready and willing to die for Bill Denbrough.

“He’s come back to Derry,” Mike explains, “I saw him just the other afternoon,”

“You’re still in that town?” Will interrupts. He always thought they all were going to go running just like he did, abandoning that haunted town as soon as possible. He remembers Bev did that year, left them for Portland and her aunt. When Will left, so close to the beginning of his sophomore year of high school, they were all chomping at the bit to go. Derry was sucking the life from them, assimilating them to its dark magic.

Stay here forever, it whispered in their ears, Give in.  

You’ll be happy here.

You’ll float.

“Someone had to stay behind,” Mike says. “You know that,”

Will knows there were other powers at play, a thrumming energy beneath the earth that he merely joined in on. He wasn’t part of the Lucky Seven, his fate wasn’t intertwined with theirs, but he wasn’t an outsider either. For some reason the fog of Derry didn’t work on him like it seemed to with everyone else, didn’t pull the wool over his eyes. At the time he thought it had something to do with his past, was a side-effect of his time in the Upside Down, but now he knows it was because he was Chosen. The Turtle chose him to do good, to protect the Lucky Seven and aid their cause. Will feels honored to have been trusted.

“What’s Bill doing in Derry?” Will asks.

He knows the answer, knows deep down in his bones why Bill followed the siren song back to the town that taught Will the true meaning of evil.

He remembers standing in a circle in the Barrens, his left hand in Eddie’s and his right hand in Mike’s.

The sun shone over them, casting shadows across their features. Will watched as Richie brought his knees to his chest, picking at a scab on his knee. He was leaned into Bill, just slightly, like he couldn’t bear to be apart from him even a few inches. Will knew something changed between them that day in the sewers, something in them grew closer and closer together. He couldn’t help but be a little jealous of their bond, like he always was when he remembered how much the Losers shared without him.

“I can only remember parts,” Bev said, staring at the grass as it bobbed in the wind. Will couldn’t meet her eyes, couldn’t force himself to look at the cut on her cheek and the way her hands shook as she clasped them together in front of her. “But I thought I was dead,”

Will kept his eyes on the ground as she told them of her vision, her now-memory of them as adults back in Derry, back in Its lair.

“I saw us,” Bev told, looking around the group. Will could feel her eyes on him, boring into his soul, but he couldn’t get himself to look up. Her vision couldn’t have included him, there’s no way his fate could be intertwinned with theirs in the same way.

“All of us,” she promised. When Will looked up, she was looking right at him, focused on his face. She looked so much older than the rest of them, so much wiser. It was like the Deadlights changed her, aged her, made her perhaps a little more empty inside. Will hated looking at her now and seeing the effect It had on her, on all of them.

“Swear it,” Bill said, standing and grabbing a broken piece of glass from the ground. Will cut his eyes over to the boy, watching the sun glint off the glass as Bill gestured. “Swear if It isn’t dead– if It ever comes back, we’ll come back too,”

They looked around at one another, the wind ruffling their hair and stinging their eyes, and they made a promise to themselves. Richie stood up first, Eddie following his lead, and then they were all stood in a circle in the Barrens, pledging their future.

The bottle stung as Bill cut open Will’s palm, dug into his skin and stretched it open. He felt sharper somehow, more awake with the blood running down his palm and between his fingers. He looked at Beverly and she was watching him again, something in her eyes that Will couldn’t place. He kept looking at her as he took Eddie’s hand, wincing as his cut dragged across Mike’s palm.

There was a thrumming enery between all of them, a power being passed through as they bled together. It was hot like fire, electric as he felt his heart beat all the way down to his toes, getting louder and louder. It felt like they were beating together, their hearts in time with one another as they made a promise to return and finish their job.

They stayed together as long as they could stand it, for as much time as they could bear to feel the power, before they broke apart. The summer wind felt chilled when they separated, like the only thing keeping Will warm was the power of the Lucky Seven.

“You were there,” Bev told him later, saying goodbye for the last time before she went to Portland. She grabbed his shoulder and made him look her in the eye again. “Grown up just like the rest of us, back in the sewers,”

“Okay, Bev,” he said quietly, blinking as she swallowed. He watched her eyes flick between his, searching for something, before she nodded once and then brought him in for a hug.

She was lying. He knew she was lying, was trying to make him feel better by pretending he was there with them all those years from now, but she was wrong. He could tell in her eyes that she was scared of the future, was worried about what awaited them years and years from now, but that she was trying to be strong for all their sake. Will wondered what she really saw in the Deadlights that made her so scared, so desperate to assure Will of his placement in their cosmic group.

Friends don’t lie, but Beverly Marsh was lying anyway.

“I love you,” she promised, kissing the top of his head.

“I love you too,” he said and that was that.

He never saw Beverly Marsh again after that summer.

“He intends to finish what we started,” Mike says.

Will can almost feel Mike’s hand in his now, warmth spreading from his fingers over his palm and up his arm. He brings his hand up to the light, to his face, and expects to see blood in the center of his palm, dripping over the bedsheets, but he’s clean.

He squints and just for a moment, sees a thin white scar. It’s as long as the cut Bill made for him, jagged from the blunt bottle tearing his skin instead of slicing it, and it’s the first time Will is noticing it for twenty years. He turns his hand over and then back, watching it to make sure the evidence doesn’t disappear again.

“Please say you’ll come back too,” Mike asks. He sounds hesitant, like he’s waiting for Will to slam the phone down.

“I–” Will starts. The words clog in his throat and he has to clear it before he can force them out, “I’m not one of you,”

“No,” Mike interupts but Will keeps going, has to say it all now or he’ll never be able to say it again.

“I’m not… one of you. I never was,” he whispers. “You have so much power that you can’t even see and I’m not a part of that.” The scar on his hand feels hot, feels like a fresh wound that’s fighting infection, and Will pulls his fingers into a fist to fight the urge to break down.

“I can’t help you, Mike, I’m not strong enough,” Mike silences on the other line and Will’s breath is ragged, loud even over the beating of his heart.

“You were one of us,” Mike says finally, the words crackling. Will closes his eyes and tries to sink back into his pillow, tries not to let the words get to him but Mike sounds so earnest and honest. “We loved you like a brother, like one of our own,”

“I’m not strong enough,” Will repeats.

“We need you anyway,” Mike says and Will knows the decision has been made, was made twenty years ago when he cut his hand and looked into Bill Denbrough’s eyes. His fate was decided before he even knew what he was deciding on.

The scar burns as he nods, as he tells Mike he’ll be there soon. It aches as he packs his bags and books a flight to Derry first thing in the morning, twinging when he climbs into a towncar outside the airport and riding into the sleepy Maine town he’d forgotten all about.

The scar doesn’t stop burning until he’s stepping out of a taxi in front of Jade of the Orient, Derry wind prickling his face and smelling like the past. It reminds him of summer and dust and death and Will bites back the sudden fear that crawls up his throat.

He takes a deep breath and goes inside the restaurant, finally ready to face his fate.

send me requests/headcanons/prompts!

[hellomissmabel]

“Hello future husband”

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Bucky x plus size!reader

Warnings: Mentions of sexy times (really briefly) and major fluff! Also, Steve x Sharon Carter, if that’s a warning for you.

Word count: 2.670

Summary: Sharon is getting married to Steve, Y/N’s ex boss and also ex crush, and has asked her childhood best friend Y/N to be one of her bridesmaids. This could lead to some pretty awkward situations, but Y/N is determined to get it over with. Who knows? Maybe she’ll meet someone new? 

A/N: This is the first one-shot with a plus size reader. There will be more plus size!reader one-shots and if you want on their tag list, please let me know by sending me an ask or leaving a comment on the announcement post for said one-shot.

This one is dedicated to @im-buckybarnes

All plus size fics can be found here

“I don’t think it’s a good idea, Y/N,” your best friend Wanda had uttered as you tried on your bridesmaid dress. She’s fidgety and nervous as she brings the subject up again. “You know, given your history with Steve…”

You roll your eyes at her as you turn around, facing the mirror and admiring the smooth, white tulle. You had to give it to Sharon, she had impeccable taste. At first you were anxious that her bridesmaid dresses of choice would be too tight, given you aren’t a size two like her and the others girls. But Sharon loves your curves and as she made the final call on the dresses, she opted for an off-white top with half long sleeves and a tulle skirt to match.

“Wanda,” you whine softly at her comments, running your hands down the skirt in awe. It truly did your full-figured form justice. “Sharon and I go way back. She knows I used to work for Steve before I started on my own.”

“But does she know you used to date?,” Wanda asks casually as she twirls around in her chair, sucking on a cherry lollipop and kinking a knowing eyebrow.

“We didn’t date, Wanda,” you sigh dramatically, telling the lady of the store that you like the dress and disappear into the changing room. “I’m sure she heard the rumours!,” you shout from behind the curtain. “We kissed and fooled around. I mean, we had a good thing going on but we were never really an item. Yet I’m sure a lot of people spread nasty rumours about it behind our back.”

“You know,” Wanda says in a sing-songy voice once you emerge from the changing rooms and hand over the dress to the store assistant. “You never told me why you broke it off.”

You shoot her a confused look, thanking the lady. “I did tell you, Wanda. You were the first that heard about it.”

“You said that if you stayed on as Steve’s associate at his firm, that would’ve meant the end of your career,” she continues as she both exit the store. “You said you still wanted to grow, professionally and personally, and that the only way to make that come true was to start on your own. But you never, never explicitly said that’s why you broke it off with poor Stevie.”

“Okay,” you eventually relent after successfully hailing a cab and telling him the address to your shared apartment. “Maybe I didn’t tell you the whole story.”

Wanda mutters a victorious “I thought so” under her breath, squeezing your knee encouragingly. “So is it because of another man?,” she inquires curiously. “Is it that Sam guy you met when we went clubbing for my birthday? Or is it that Tony guy we ran into at Macy’s?”

“God no! I’m not a cheater, Wanda,” you immediately react, playfully slapping her and away. “Another woman is more like it!”

“ANOTHER WOMAN!,” Wanda exclaims so loudly the cab driver stares angrily at her from the rear-view mirror.

“One of the biggest clients Steve ever acquired, Natasha Romanoff, switched sides and left Steve’s firm to become my client. That woman has had more husbands than manicures.”

Wanda giggles at the top of her voice and the driver asks her to take it down a notch. “Anyway, It was her own decision. I had nothing to do with it, but Steve couldn’t get over it. He was so bitter over the entire thing that I had to walk on eggshells every time our paths crossed. That’s what happens when you swim in the same waters, I guess…”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Wanda offers sincerely, paying the cab driver and leaving a generous tip once you’ve arrived at your place.

“It’s okay, love,” you tell her honestly, walking up the stairs to the brownstone as she fishes out the key to the front door.

“Still, it must be so weird for you to see your childhood best friend marry your ex and former boss.”

“It’s definitely weird,” you admit softly, dropping your bag off before taking a seat at the kitchen table. Wanda takes a seat next to you, smiling sadly. “But he isn’t really my ex and I’m happy for them. I truly am. And let’s not forget it was me who introduced Sharon to Steve at that legal convention.”

Getting up from your seat, you know her worried eyes are following you, burning into your back as you go to boil some hot water for tea. “If Steve and I ever officially got together, the competition would’ve teared our relationship apart eventually.”

Wanda nods her head gently. “You’re sure you don’t need me to come too? As your plus one?”

“It’s been 2 years since I left. So yeah, I’ll be fine.”

The ceremony was brief but heartfelt. Sharon was wearing a sober white halter dress with a short veil, adorned with delicate white flowers. Steve was just as you remember him, dressed to the nines, as you knew he would be, in a dark blue tuxedo. They had also chosen to write their own vows. Even though your eyes often wandered back to Steve, you kept them firmly trained on Sharon for most of the time.

The wedding reception was another thing entirely. Sharon said she wanted to have an intimate wedding yet the number of guests attending the ceremony was anything but humble. You were drowning in a pool of bodies and an ocean of fabric, trying to find your assigned seat. After some searching and bumping into many unfamiliar faces, you could finally track down the wedding planner, Peggy, conveniently also Sharon’s niece.

“Let me see…,” she hums impatiently as she scans the list of tables and seats until she finds your name. “You’re sitting at the table next to the ice sculpture.”

“But all the other bridesmaids are sitting over at the chocolate fountain,” you tell Peggy, slightly confused.

Your request annoys her a little yet she goes over the names a second time, confirming her initial statement with a quick nod. “All the other bridesmaids brought their boyfriends or husbands with them. You’re the only one without a plus one. So you’re seated next to the best man, Bucky Barnes. He also didn’t bring a date.”

The name rings a bell and you half recall crossing your gaze with Steve’s best man, but you can’t quite put a face to the name just yet. “O-okay,” you stutter insecurely, earning a tired smile from Peggy who quickly sends you on your way.

The ice sculpture isn’t hard to find, located the closest to the main table where the family of the bride and groom are seated. They’re about to serve the first course, so you’ll have to hurry up. Some guests glare daggers at you as you try to wiggle past them, even though you politely ask them to move their seats up a little bit so you can swiftly move through. You’re used to it by now, the judgement some skinny people have towards men and women who don’t conform to “normal” beauty standards. You used to struggle with this for a very long time before you realised you’re better than that. Now it doesn’t affect you as much anymore, confident in your own skin and successful job.

When your table finally reaches your line of sight, the relief is unmatched, especially when you see that most of the other guests are still happily chatting away with other attendees from adjourning tables, champagne glass in hand. They haven’t even noticed there’s still one person missing, everyone except for the handsome brunet next to your empty seat.

When your eyes lock, the wind is instantly knocked from your lungs. He was looking a little sad at first, engaged in a dull conversation with the overzealous maid of honour about Sharon’s choice of flower arrangements. Yet his blues vanish into thin air the very moment your flustered cheeks reach his gaze. Licking his lips, a cocky grin tugs the corners of his lips upwards, your knees weakening at the sight of such a devilishly handsome face. His sharp cheekbones alone are enough to get you gasping for air.

Even before you have reached your final destination, he gets up from his seat and pulls back your chair, that smug expression ever-present. You thank him kindly for the gesture, remaining in a standstill for a few more seconds, astonished by his this cherub of a man. “Hello future husband,” you think to yourself as you take in his sparkling blue eyes, touches of grey glistening like the bubbles of champagne all the guests are so royally consuming.

It isn’t until he replies that you realise you didn’t just think that, but also said those exact words aloud. “Well, hello there future wife,” he chuckles confidently before sitting back down next to you. “The name’s Bucky Barnes. And what should I call this beautiful dame?”

You look away first, then bury your face in your hands. “Oh God, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be, doll,” he assures you softly, pushing your glass of champagne towards you. “Take a sip, love. It helps, trust me.”

You peer at him through your fingers, his tender smile coaxing you from behind their shelter. The glass is way too small for your liking as you drink the liquid all at once, taming your embarrassment. “My name is Y/N,” you smile sheepishly at his open mouth.

“Well, Y/N,” he muses in an amused tone, “Bride or groom?”

“Both,” you admit shyly, “Sharon and I grew up together and I used to work with Steve.”

“You’re a the Y/N Y/L/N,” he exclaims all of a sudden and you groan at his enthusiasm. “The divorce mediator that used to shag dear ol’ Steve.” He leans back in his chair, pupils blown in amazement. “It’s a shame Steve never got to introduce us. I spent a long time abroad.” Carding his fingers through his hair, he exhales gently as he looks deep into your eyes. “I’m a divorce lawyer, too.”

“I’m a mediator, there’s a big difference there. You have a degree in law, I have a degree in psychology and law.”

Swirling the crystal glass between your fingertips, you avert your eyes from his curious gaze. Maybe you were wrong about him, maybe he believes the rumours just like everyone else.

“And apparently I’m also the only single friend. I wonder why that is,” you laugh softly, the sound bittersweet.

“Hey now,” he instantly shifts forward in his seat, taking one of your hands in his while the other caresses your cheek, brushing away a stray wisp of hair curled for the occasion. “You are stunning, doll, and I’m so freaking lucky you’re single and that I ended up seated next to you.”

“Peggy might’ve mentioned something similar, too,” you whisper to yourself so Bucky doesn’t hear, a little smile gracing your lips. Squeezing your hand one last time, he lets go so the waiter can present you the first course. You smile gratefully at Bucky, your spirits lifted high by his considerate reaction. You can see it in his eyes that he means every single word.

Dinner is spent in joyous chatter, Bucky visibly rejuvenated by your presence and how much you have in common. You barely speak to anyone else during the entire service, the best man absorbing all of your attention so effortlessly that you hang on every word that falls from his lips. When the time has arrived for the first dance, his loving fingertips find their way to your knee under the table cloth. It isn’t until “Yours” by Ella Henderson starts to play and Sharon and Steve weave their hands together in perfect unison, that you understand Bucky’s sign of affection.

“You don’t have to look, doll,” Bucky whispers gingerly into your ear.

Silently appreciating the elegance of the scene taking place in front of you, you rest your hand on Bucky’s. “It’s okay, Bucky. I love this song.”

He graces you with an understanding smile, placing his other hand over yours so both his hands now share their warmth with you. It helps you through the first dance and as soon as Sharon and Steve clear the dancefloor for the other guests, he pulls you with him straightaway. Bucky twirls you around, shows off his dance moves and more importantly, makes you laugh and feel loved.

He pulls you close when the DJ switches things up and plays a slow song again, his lips caress the shell of your ear as he speaks. “You are the most enchanting creature I’ve ever had the pleasure of getting to know.”

“Thank you, Bucky,” you whisper in return as he presses his cheek to yours, chuckling happily and smiling like a complete dork.

A spirited cough resounds from behind you and reluctantly you detangle yourself from Bucky, who takes a step back once he sees who it is. “I was hoping to have a quick chat with you. It won’t take long.”

Steve straightens his back, knowing his interruption is unwelcome. But Bucky doesn’t seem to mind, so you nod and let him take over. As the music plays out, you sway and shuffle to the final notes. “I see you and Bucky are having a lot of fun,” he notes with a soft chuckle. “I’m glad you could make it, Y/N.”

“I’m glad, too,” you say as you lay your head to rest on his shoulder. “You and Sharon make a great couple. I still wonder why you didn’t tie the knot as soon as I introduced you two.”

Hearty laughter rumbles through his chest and he presses one last, chaste kiss to your temple. “Y/N… About Bucky, he’s a great guy. He won’t hurt you like I did. I’m so sorry, love. You deserved better.”

“Steve…” You try to tell him he shouldn’t say things like that but he has already joined Sharon’s side again, his absence soon replaced by Bucky who picks up where you left off, swirling you into his arms.

“That’s not my favourite look on you, doll,” Bucky hums in a flirty voice, noticing you’re a little thrown off guard by Steve’s sudden revelation. “Why don’t you smile for me, hm?”

With a girly giggle, you push away all thoughts of Steve and replace them with happy thoughts about Bucky. “Better?,” you smirk at him as you peck his cheek and he turns all red.

“Sweetheart,” he coos seductively, flashing you a toothy grin. “I don’t mean to be too forward, but can I take you home tonight? I’m not asking you to sleep with me or anything,” he adds quickly, sensing your reluctance, “I just want to make sure you get home safely and maybe, just maybe, you’ll give me your number as a thank you?”

Now it’s your to hum in amusement. “Maybe I’ll give you more than just my number as a thank you,” you tease him playfully.

“A date?,” he pipes up hopefully, boyish laughter escaping his lips.

“Yes. But only if you take me home safely,” you promise with a wink.

Bucky tightens his grip around your waist, pulling you flush to his chest. “Well, well, future wife, I think we have a deal here.”

“Well, well,” you nudge his nose with yours, his lips hovering over yours, “future husband. I think we do.”

“Perfect,” he mumbles to yours lips, “You’re fucking perfect,” kissing you slowly on the lips. “Did I already mention that I love curvy girls?”

“You might’ve, I don’t remember clearly,” you play coy, “But it doesn’t hurt to say it again.”

Bucky repeatedly pecks your lips, both of you smiling brightly into the soft kisses, before offering you his hand, which you gladly take. You quickly escape the wedding crowd, kicking your heels off as soon as you get into his car, ready for a hot ‘n heavy make-out session at the backseat of his car.

Tagging: @avengerofyourheart @a-little-hell-to-raise @marvelingatthewonder @mrshopkirk @hardcorehippos @knittingknerdy @winterboobaer @italwaysendsinafightt @viollettes @hymnofthevalkyrie @feelmyroarrrr @justareader @austinamelio @volklana @4theluvofall @themcuhasruinedme @theoneandonlysaucymo @caplanbuckybarnes @nenyakj @amrita31199 @emilyevanston @minervaem @howlingbarnes @buchananbarnestrash @youandb @you-and-bucky @fvckingsteverogers @thatawkwardtinyperson @that-sokovian-bastard @abovethesmokestacks @marvelrevival @marvel-fanfiction @justanotherbuckydevotee @barnes-heaven @heartmade-writingbucky @buckyywiththegoodhair @captnbarnesrogers @mellifluous-melodramas @its-not-a-phase-hux @melconnor2007 @ivvitm1109 @toofuckinfabulous @ailynalonso15 @jurassicbarnes @hollycornish @delicatecapnerd @camigt1999 @learisa @curlyexpat @palaiasaurus64 @fanndas-snow-goddess @crisssivonne @yourenotrogers @tomhollandzs @supernaturaldean67 @beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep @aletheladyinred @winterssmiles @xbergiex @reniescarlett @promarvelfangirl

Hello future husband tag list:

@psingh97 @pineapplebooboo @albinoatthedisco @magnolia-wanders @whatisaheroanyway @dinorapreira @alexandragoestothemovies @lostinspace33 @bluebrrn @imsupernaturalbaby @anitavalija @sebstanchrisevanchickforever19 @friendlyneighborhoodnazgul @kiwi71281 @feistytravel @modvinnie @rcarbo1 @cami23593 @captainamylouise @kudosia @rhyatt-deauxtreve @kirakombat @lumelgy @pleasantdreamqueen @suz-123 @pegasusdragontiger @saysay125 @yknott81 @jesspfly @marvel-at-bucky @blue1928

@garnetandlace @ilovebeingjoyful @50shadesofyes @rebelslicious @iamwarrenspeace @wildestdreamsrps @mizzzpink @fuckingchaotic @rrwilson66 @alexaduke @debzybrazy @glitterintheairblog @princess76179 @ilovebeingjoyful @thequeenofthehobbits @rda1989 @svenyves @thefandomimagines @perrychastain @cokamarie24 @kyleannsmut @giorgiagrl1990 @breezy1415 @buckyappreciationsociety @the-witching-hours12-3 @crazyjam-pot

Strikethrough means tumblr won’t let me tag you!

[kiwisfics]

Vampires and Assassins - Chapter 1

A/N - Ignore my incapability to make good titles. Anyway here is the beginning of the self indulgent mess of a fic I started... over a year ago? Possibly over two. Heed the summary and warnings. This was started during the time I was struggling with massive toxicity in my home and the main character reflects that (though she has taken a life of her own). Let’s be honest, I’m posting this for the validation and because it’s easier than churning out requests.

Summary: Kady Lason wasn’t brave, not that she was going to let anyone other than herself know that. Her actions far from reflect her internal dilemma, leading her on escapades in the middle of the night, far from her turmoil-fueled family life. Which is exactly how she ends up kidnapped and sold into a world that few know exist: a world of vampires. If the shock and fear isn’t enough, she ends up with a target on her back, just her luck. The past is easy to forget when facing threats most saw as myths, but, somehow, everything always ends up connected, doesn’t it?

Panicked breaths rushed through my nose, my mouth blocked by duct tape that had been slapped sometime in between my pathetically weak attempt to fight my captor and waking up from the right-hook he'd decked me. I could almost swear I still heard ringing in my ears.

My eyes darted around wildly, landing on this face and that, drawn mostly to the few female outliers of the crowd. While the crowd varied in age, most of them were men, doing nothing to ease my fear.

God knew men set me on edge, with good reason.

The women, I had been informed through quiet easedropping on my fellow captives, came mostly seeking presents for their sons or simple help. I could only assume the intentions of the men and I couldn't assume any less than the abuse I had come to expect from them.

My feet were chained securely to the stage below, preventing me from darting from the stage or attacking my kidnappers—something I had attempted more than once.

My fear didn't immobilize me, if there was anything I could be proud of. At least they didn't know I was scared of them.

I was scared though. Terrified. The feeling buzzing in my veins as I forced a brave face. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing that fear, though; if I was going to die—or suffer whatever fate these human-shaped beasts saw fit—I was going to go through it as I always had.

And that meant digging divets into the insides of my cheeks to keep tears at bay and standing tall.

My hands were tied with rope, rubbing my wrists raw—I wouldn't be surprised if they were bloody when the rope was removed. Of course, my vicious tugging had done nothing to help the skin, as the pain had done nothing to convince me to stop. It'd taken exhaustion for that.

As my eyes scanned the crowd, still hoping for some semblance of hope for escape, prices far greater than that of my parents' yearly incomes put together—let alone the pathetic wage I received from stocking shelves in a local shop—were called out for the woman to my right and the prices only continued to rise as the seconds ticked by. Just how wealthy were these people?

I cringed as I heard the word billion thrown into the air.

The woman acted as though this were just another day for her, her face blank—a stark contrast to the pure fury my eyes conveyed to the crowd. Her mouth was uncovered, unlike my own, clearly, I was the only new arrival to this party.

It was impossible not to notice that I was the outlier among these women. While they were treated with only chained feet, I was restrained as if I was a danger—let alone the differences in our body types. All the women were tall, taller than me at least, but that wasn't a difficult feat; it was the obvious that stood out.

They might as well have been models, their faces lined with only a light layer of makeup and their bodies scantily covered—not that I envied the clothing, not with the prying eyes of men drilling into us—but it was obvious they had done their best to cover my features that weren't on par with those of the women standing aside me.

Some of the women had the gall to smile and wave at the crowd, though even they carried a look of absolute disgust in their eyes.

What have I gotten myself into?

The auctioneer was a tall, dark skinned man with a deep voice and a grin that almost certainly would have fooled anyone into a sense of security—save those of my disposition, who refused to trust others on a good day. He was the first I had been introduced to, playing the part of a gentleman, until he saw that I wasn't falling for his act.

He made no attempt to keep peace among the ravenous crowd, letting chaos reign until he heard a price that pleased him and sent other buyers into silence

"Sold, number 187!”

"Now, for our final item!" A deep growl rumbled free of my throat at the word item, though it went unheard through the chatter and my blocked lips, it satisfied my need for protest. "Nineteen years old, turning twenty within the month. Unlike our more petite slaves, she will not be as easily broken." I huffed indignantly, once again unnoticed, at his reference to my less-than-slim form, "While she is untrained," This information sent most of the crowd mumbling and muttering among themselves, "this can be an advantage for anyone who wants a fighter. Not to mention, she's a Category H. We had to sedate her to keep her this calm, she's not one to take kindly to orders

That's right. They had sedated me. The panic had blocked the thought of the drugs from my mind, but at the mention, I couldn't help but let out yet another indignant huff. I could still feel the sedative running through my veins, attempting to give me a false sense of relaxation, but they hadn't dared to give me enough to knock me out and had, in turn, neglected to give me enough to do more than give me a very slight drowsy feeling.

A nap sounded good anyway, but with the sedative? It almost sounded like heaven.

"Who wants to start off the bidding?" At his words, I held my breath, trapped somewhere in between praying for a woman to bid and wanting them to all stay silent, to let me die.

It wasn't the first time I had wanted to die, after all.

Silence overtook the crowd and, despite my previous thoughts, a shiver went down my spine. Was it that no one wanted a challenge or was it simply my age? All the other women were well over the age of twenty, yet, here I was, nothing more than a child compared to most of the people in the crowd and on the stage.

No, I realized. I had seen plenty of children before being brought out on this stage; a different grouping, but still present.

I could feel the pity-filled stares of the other women on the stage. My kidnappers and most of the women had made it painstakingly clear that if I wasn't bought, I would be killed, like any unwanted and untrained slaves.

A look of realization crossed the auctioneer’s face, followed by a devious grin. I knew, whatever he was about to say, I wasn't going to like it. "I forgot the best detail! This girl is a virgin."

I felt like a train had slammed straight into my chest. I couldn't catch my breath.

The first bet went up, followed by another, then another. Before long there was an all-out brawl going and I had never felt such a simultaneous mixture of fear and anger in my life.

This couldn't be happening. I needed to sit down. I needed to get my bearings. A bitter taste rose in my throat and fear and disgust ran like ice through my veins. Of course, it wasn't much of a surprise, after all, there were a very limited number of things I could have been kidnapped for, but having my fears confirmed set aflame the burning hatred I had subdued from the moment I had awoken in this situation to keep myself alive. I almost fell forward as I lunged at the auctioneer, pulling ever harder on the rope binding my wrists.

The pain was excruciating, but anger completely enveloped any ounce of care I held. Fear was forgotten under the guise of my rage, flowing off of me in waves. My body ached with the desire to end the man, but I couldn't break free.

I couldn't even rip into him to release my anger and, as such, the anger fermented in my chest, burning more than even the mangled skin of my wrists.

I'm doomed.

As my anger melted into hopelessness, I fell to my knees, staring blankly at the crowd as they argued over me.

For once in my life, I was wanted, and I hated it.

Guess this is what they mean when they tell you to be careful what you wish for.

I would have given anything to go back to high school in the moment, even middle school. I would go back to the times in my life that made me want to die and, if I retained the knowledge of how much worse life could get, I could suck up the pain of emotional abuse and bullying. Whatever mistakes I had made that had lead me here couldn't stem from that far back.

Maybe if I hadn't spent years hating myself, I wouldn't have ran off that night and I wouldn't have ended up here.

I just need a do-over.

As I stared into the crowd, fighting the panic attack building with each breath I took, I noticed a hooded man making his way to the stage.

I couldn't see any trace of his face under the hood and its shadow, leaving me unable to read anything about him. As he made his way through the chaos of the crowd, it was as if no one noticed him. He seemed to be the only one in the crowd not fighting tooth and nail to purchase me so I kept my eyes trained on him, using his movements to anchor myself and remind myself to count.

Ten. Twenty. Thirty. Forty. Fifty.

When he finally made it to the stage he motioned for the auctioneer to lean down. The dark-skinned man did so and the hooded man spoke into his ear. Had his mouth not been hidden from me, I could have, at least, read his lips, but their positions made it impossible.

When the auctioneer stood, there was a large smile on his face, stretching from ear to ear. "Sold to number 7!"

My head swung to the women beside me, fast enough to hurt, as my eyes desperately searched their faces for a sign that somehow I was lucky. That, out of all the people, I hadn't been purchased by someone pure evil. Each of them shook their heads, only slightly, their eyes bleeding pity.

My heart dropped.

[freshlyjuicedbeetles]

Pennywise x Reader Smut!

Same world and protag as my microfiction series. 

More of my Pennywise x Reader smut 

https://misanthropicpansexual.tumblr.com/post/165926993306/eventual-fic-where-penn-is-into-bdsm-and-doesnt

Enjoy you clown fuckers!

I first felt him in the early afternoon. I was at a local diner, interviewing an elder about Pennywise sightings in the fifties. It was a simple touch of fingertips gently running up and down my back. Pennywise himself was nowhere to be seen. I knew he had this power and used it quite often, just to remind me that he was there and watching, that I am an owned human. However, he never used it erotically. I was beginning to wonder when he’d put two and two together.

Goosebumps erupted over my skin and I wanted to curl into the feeling, wanting more, but kept my focus on the interview.

“Gosh, he’s gotta be at least 6’4, but my buddy Carl says he can get even bigger.” My interviewee said, shock in his thick Maine accent.

“Oh, he can…?,” I replied, it started out as a statement of agreement, but I was able to tack on an inflection of questioning at the end. It wasn’t the smoothest of recovers, but it worked.

“We saw him as far as Eastport last September,” A woman said, cradling her toddler on her hip outside the bank, later in the afternoon. “My husband saw him hiding under the docks at low tide.” The toddler covered her ears in fright.

Little did she know, that I brought him with me to Eastport for the Pirate Festival. I dutifully recorded the notes for show, as his fingertips played xylophone across my ribcage.

“Dude, he like, eats people,” A teenager said emphatically as he stopped wiping down a table at Derry’s favorite pizza place. “Who does that?” Pennywise’s hands were caressing my inner thighs under my jeans.

By the time I got home, my skin was already on fire with arousal and my panties were dampening. It was such a naughty thing, being caressed and fondled by an invisible monster in public. There he was waiting for me like he owned the place. I said nothing, simply grabbing him by the fabric of his top and pulling him to my lips.

His lips pressed against mine, sparing no time in forcing his tongue through my lips. I wrapped my arms around his back, pulling him as close to me as possible. It was times like these, when I still had some brain function that wasn’t clouded by lust, that I was Frenching and about to fuck a godlike alien dressed as a clown. It was both hilariously ridiculous and earthshattering. He chose me. This being chose me. My arousal spiked.

He drops his lips to my neck, kissing and biting me, drool spilling down my shirt. After sex, my body is a crime scene. I always look like I have been assaulted with bite marks, hand prints and bruises littering my body, covered in blood, saliva and cum. I may be somewhere between being his mate and his personal sex toy, but damn it’s fun. He trails the side of my neck with his tongue. “What are you thinking about, little one? I can smell you…”

“You,” I whisper, my breath caught in my throat.

“Louder!” He orders, pulling at the neck of shirt to expose my shoulder and bites shallowly into the skin, licking the welling blood.

“You!” I exclaim, hissing at the not so pleasant feel of being bitten, but the pain is still good.

He draws a heart in the blood.

I jump when I hear the theme music to the Addam’s Family; my dad’s ringtone. I sigh in annoyance and drop my forehead against Pennywise’s shoulder.

“Hi Daddy,” I answered as Pennywise palmed my breast and sucked at my neck.

“Your daughter calls me daddy, too,” Pennywise cackled, dangerously close to the receiver.

“What was that?” Dad asked. I couldn’t tell if he heard Pennywise or not. I was mortified regardless.

“Nothing, just the TV.” I said, pushing Pennywise away by his face. He gave me a warning bite to assert his dominance.

“Oh, okay.” Dad replies, “Listen, honey, Mom and I will be in that neck of the woods next month. We’ll be in Baltimore investigating the Edgar Allan Poe House. We’d love to see you!”

My brain is too fuzzy to understand what he’s saying because of the feral clown attached to my throat and with wicked hands. “Yeah, sure, that sounds great,” I slap my hand over my mouth to suppress a squeal of pleasure when Pennywise fingers my nipple through my shirt.

“Wonderful! I’ll call you lat...”

I cut Dad off quickly, “Okayloveyoutoobye,” I say before disconnecting the call.

Pennywise backs me into the wall with the thud of my back, kissing me with such passion. He grabs my left leg and drapes it over his hip, offering me a feel of his straining erection under his linen pants. Suddenly, he stops. My eyes open to see what the deal is and he staggers back. His expression is pained and…scared? Cracks start appearing all over his body. Just as he was about to let out what I was sure to be an ungodly scream, he falls apart and disappears.

My chest heaves and heart thunders. I notice it’s quiet. No birds to be heard, no crick of a cricket. This isn’t right. I plow through the door and see nothing and no one. I jog down the short gravel road that leads to town and see nothing and no one. The whole town of Derry is deserted. No kids on their bikes, no elders sitting outside on Main Street shooting the breeze, no frazzled housewives running errands, no teenagers glued to their cell phones.

Call mom. That’s my first thought. I hope to god that my cell phone is my pocket and it is. It’s just that there’s no contacts in my phone, no text messages, no incoming or outgoing calls when I knew I had at least two unanswered texts and that call from Dad. My chest feels heavy and skin prickles with fear. Nothing and no one on Instagram, Facebook, Snapchat…no content or people.

I am alone in the world. I have been abandoned. I lose all power in my body and slump to the ground. My once heated blood turns to ice and pricks at me from the inside. What am I going to do? I can’t do this, I can’t do this, I can’t do this, I can’t do this.

Suddenly, I am staring at orange eyes and I back home with Pennywise. I can once again hear the world outside my home. “Boo! Scare ya?” He asked wickedly, howling with laughter like it’s the funniest thing he has ever seen.

Before I can comprehend what just happened, his demon-like claws pierce through his white gloves and tear through my shirt and jeans. I am standing there in the rags of my clothes. He pops the elastic of my bra straps and slices through my panties.

He continues biting, nipping, licking and kissing down my body, drawing more blood and writing his name and drawing more hearts all over my body. I have never seen a more erotic and grotesque sight.

He stares at my breast for a bit longer than a human would. I doubt before mine, he hasn’t seen much of any but seems to like them. He gleefully cups them in his large hands and I notice that his gloves are gone. I sigh at the feeling of his skin against mine. His fingers twirl my nipples as he kisses me, our tongues twisting together. I groan into his mouth as he pinches at them, the feeling shooting into my spinal cord to my vulva.

“Such a good girl for daddy,” He croons gravelly.

God, that voice of his alights every nerve I have in delight.

Pennywise kisses down the front of my throat, occasionally dragging the tips of his teeth down my torso. He cups my Venus Mound and easily slides two fingers into me; those long, elegant and spindly fingers that I want to suck on and can turn my body into a writhing mess on the floor.

His other hand grabs me by my throat, limiting my air to a tiny amount. My head becomes even fuzzier and all the pleasure I am feeling intensifies. I am just on the edge of passing out. My brain cells may be dying and I’ll probably lose all my knowledge of math after we’re done, but it feels too good to beg him to stop, as though he would.

His fingers pump faster and faster into me, creating obscene noises that are only drown out by my own muted wailing. My skin begins to buzz and flush, I’m so close to that incredible precipice, but he yanks his fingers out seconds before I fall. I suck in a lungful of air as he releases my throat.

He licks his fingers clean with a wicked shit eating grin on his face. I am left there dangling, trying to catch my breath. “My turn,” He says pressing my head down. I get the message and drop to my knees.

A good thing about fucking an alien; he can have multiple orgasms and no refractory period; more time to play and more fun while at it.

I caress his heavy and warm cock in my hands and his eyes flutter shut. He feels good in my hands and inside me. I kiss the tip, almost in reverence of the being it’s attached to and of how much pleasure the organ can bring me. I swipe my tongue along the slit, drawing the precum that has settled there into my mouth.

I bring him into my mouth as deep as he can go and alternate between sucking and licking. Pennywise’s hand curls into a fist, fighting the urge to shove himself down my throat more than I can accommodate. I accidentally bit him the first time. He’s learned.

I cuddle his balls in my hand, drawing a groan from the clown. I am able to keep the suction and drag my teeth down his cock which causes that fist to suddenly pound violently into my bottom cabinets. I grin, knowing I caused that.

I bob my head faster and harder on his cock and moments later, he grunts and spills into my mouth. I wasn’t a swallower before, but damn, the thought of swallowing his is hot.

“That’s it….take it…take it all…” He moans.

He recovers his breath and throws me over his shoulder, smacking my ass hard before walking the few steps to my (our?) bedroom and depositing me on the bed.

“My beautiful little human,” he hums, his eyes alight. I love his eyes whether they are blue or orange. They are bright and full of life and personality regardless of their color. I don’t know if it’s a natural attribute he was born with or something he does himself. Those eyes could dance me of Niagara Falls if he so desired.

Pennywise swings my legs over his shoulders. Eating me out and licking up my blood is the closest he seems to want to get to eating me while still tasting me. He gives me a long and languid lick up my vulva. I toss my head back in a moan, grinding my nails into the bedding beneath me.

“Tell me who owns this fucking pussy,” He growls against me, his voice vibrating against my soaking flesh.

“You do, Pennywise!” I holler.

He chuckles a slides his tongue against my clit. He sucks at it while replacing his fingers. They curl upwards and I nearly bolt off the bed when he hit the right spot. He chuckles once more against me. He switches and his tongue slides into me as his fingers roll my clit. I am thrashing my head back and forth, unintelligible noises and words spilling from my mouth.

Just as I am about to climax, he stops again. I whine at the sudden cessation of the pleasurable stimuli, feeling like a frayed and exposed nerve. He crawls on the bed and positions himself above me.

We’ve never fucked where he’s totally naked, just a few strategically popped buttons. I’ve never felt more than the skin of hands, face or cock against my own. While I would love for the all physical barriers between us to come down, I love him in his costume. His silhouette is gorgeous in it; the smooth taper of his waist and his long and lean legs accentuated by his close-fitting pants. Even with the puffs around his arms and midsection, he cuts an intimidating figure. When the sex is the best, I find myself biting into his ruffled collar to keep the cops from being called.

He thrusts hard into me, drooling like a dog, never allowing me to adjust to his size. God, he probably would’ve eaten my hymen if he had the chance.  I freeze in pleasure and my breath is caught in my throat. It is then that I know that I could never have sex with another person and feel even half the pleasure and connection I feel with Pennywise.

“You belong to me, little girl,” He asserts, reading my mind.

Of all the men and women I’ve slept with, Pennywise knows how to fuck me the best.

God, those fucking bells. They jingle like a Christmas carol as he pounds into me, a Christmas Carol from a Rob Zombie flick. I’ll never be able to hear them the same way again.

We are holding onto each other for dear life as his thrusts become more erratic. “I’ll make you float, too, now.” He whispers into my neck.

Our orgasms rip through us seconds apart from each other. I swear, this must be what being struck by lightning feels like. I scream his name as he fills me impossibly full, leaking onto the bed. We clutch each other as we return to earth.

Still panting, he tore a bell of his sleeve, placed it in my palm, closing my hand around it. His kissed my closed fist and was gone.

“Does this mean we’re married?” I asked to open air.

His only answer was the feeling of a hand pressing into the skin above my heart.