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thisisgonnafuxkinkillme · 4 years ago

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Don’t Call Me That Anymore

Toshinori Yagi x Reader

Warnings:

Angst, body insecurity, big sad

Alcohol

SPOILER UNDER THE CUT!

(Post Retirement All might)

You walked alongside your boyfriend, your hand being loosley connected to his via your pinky. You dragged him to your favorite thrift shop, where you often liked to try on fancy abandoned ball gowns and take photos. Or, on days where you felt a little more casual, you’d search for some interesting clothes to wear.

Everything was fine, the little outing going along as usual. He’d generally stay by your side, his eyes wandering from the dull clothes you often would pick through.

It was when you heard a small gasp that you knew something was wrong. You glanced at the direction of his gaze, seeing an abandoned All Might figure laying on the floor, the price tag displaying proudly that it was 75% off.

“Even to be on sale at a thrift store, eh?” he mumbled to himself. His hand clutched his chest, trying to physically push the pain down and out of his frail body. You tried to pretend like you didn’t notice, and guided him to another aisle. Silently, you planned to leave as soon as possible.

---------------------------------------days later---------------------------------

You scrolled through your phone mindlessly, not really caring about the outside world this very moment. All that mattered right now was your loving boyfriend, who was sitting on the other side of the couch. He was mindlessly scrolling through the tv channels.

Suddenly, he paused. You didn’t notice it, that subtle shift in his attitude, the slight tension that grew within him, and the tiny hitched breath.

He clicked on it, and on screen was...him.

“So, All Might, what’s an average day like for you?” some well dressed reporter asked him. He flashed that crowd pleasing grin as he thought.

He had just finished fighting a villian, and had a small droplet of blood dripping down his forehead, threatening to drop into his intense yet amiable eyes.

“Well, I guess it’s like anyone else’s,” he said thoughtfully, “I just get up, drink some coffee, and-” the man on screen dissapeared, being replaced by a woman showing us the weekly weather. Again, Toshi said nothing, but his eyes were dark and his jaw was clenched. You grasped for his hand as he stood up. His knees popped and his back cracked, only reminding further that he was getting older and weaker. He clenched his fist and dissapeared into the bathroom.

You didnt know what to say or do, knowing that the wrong thing will only make things worse. Your heart ached deeply for him, but how could you help? Could you help?

That night, Toshi came home with something he usually never played with: alcohol. By this time, you had already forgotten about the incidents earlier.

“What’re you gonna do with that?” you teased. He smiled back weakly. Internally, his heart dropped. He’d been caught.

“You want some?” he offered nonchalantly. You nodded, taking a small shot. You never drank either, unlike other people your age, so when the alcohol passed your lips and slid down your throat, you couldn’t help yourself from sputtering and coughing. He patted your back gently.

“You alright there?”

You nod, smiling a little. If you’re honest, things like that were always so embarrasing. You hated him see you act your age.

He took a shot, too, smooth and quick. He noticed you stare, and grinned.

“I used to...a little, when I was younger.”

After the last two words, his eyes grew dark again.

when I was younger.

He poured himself another shot, swigging it down like nothing. You still felt the burning warmth of the shot you’d taken. You couldn’t stop yourself from worrying about how he’d probably be feeling right about now.

“Hey, uh, Toshi... don’t drink too much too fast or you’re gonna get sick,” you gently suggested.

“I will be fine...don’t you worry about me,” he reassured. You nodded, but didn’t really believe him. Is he fine anyway?

You relaxed on the couch, playing a video game on the switch as Toshi occupied himself with the tv and a deck of cards. He loved to play solitaire, even after being mocked by the students at UA when he’d bust out his worn deck during breaks.

Time passed, swiftly yet gently, but the silence got the better of you.

“Hey, Toshi, lemme get another shot of that stuff”

He didn’t respond. You looked up from the game to see that his cards were all mixed up, reds being on reds and the kings on top of the queens. He had his head gently resting on the cold, wooden table, eyes only staring at the tv blankly.

It’d been quite a few hours since he’d had his first shot, and it definately has worn in. Not too far from his card playing set up was a glass, 1/4 full of what you just assumed was orange juice. You now were suspicious, quietly taking it and giving it a sniff.

It certainly was orange juice, but there was something mixed with it. The alcohol smell burned your nose.

Your heart dropped, knowing that that orange juice was to the brim when he brought it in.

“Toshi...”

He flinched at his name, but still didn’t say anything. His eyes, though glazed over and pitiful, were focused on something. You glanced up at the screen, where an All Might documentary played.

You bent down to Toshi’s level, where he was sitting on the floor in front of the table, combing your fingers through his hair.

“Toshi, look at me.”

His eyes lazily found your face. He brought up his hand to your cheek.

“I-I’m ffine, dea-darlin..g..” he stumbled out, his speech slurred and laborious.

“Let’s get to bed, honey. I can help walk you there,” you offered. He protested futilely, as you pulled his arm over your shoulder and supported his weight with yours. He was mostly deadwight, making his 160 pounds feel more like thousands. You guided him down the hall, slowly but steadily, each step taking exponentially longer than a sober one would. He kept one hand on the wall.

His fingers grazed the frame of a photo. He looked at it.

It was All Might, proudly standing with a group of kids.

Toshi couldn’t hold it in anymore. He stood up, shakily but on his own, and pulled his fist back, swinging at it. Glass landed everywhere, and a small hole in the wall stared back at him.

He spit at the now broken photo at his feet.

“yo-you’re not e-ven real...n-no-not any...not anymore...I hate you...” he mumbled drunkenly. His hand fell limp to his side, scarlet blood shining against his pale, white skin. And dripping onto the floor.

You tried your best to hide your shock and you directed him into the bathroom, where the first aid kit was. He laid on the floor, pressing his face into the comforting coolness of the linoleom. You wanted to scream at him to knock it out, and to just get up, but you knew that even if he desperately wanted to, he wouldn’t be sober until the next morning.

You looked down at his small, skinny form, that lay breathing on the bathroom tile. You'd never seen Toshi, in any form, look as weak as he did now. Your heart ached. This wasn’t him.

Suddenly, he shot up and lurched towards the toilet, emptying the contents of his stomach. You rushed over to his side, moving his forelocks away from his face. He was pale, white as a sheet. The bags under his eyes were deeper and darker, and his usually bright blue eyes were dulled down to a muted navy. Tears pooled down his sunken cheekbones.

"n-no...go- get awa...y"

You said nothing, but ran cold water through a washrag, soaking it throughly. He remained hovering over the toilet, violently retching.

The alcohol was attacking his skinnied, sick body more than he thought it would. As you approached him with the rag in hand, he returned to the chilled floor.

You placed the rag on his sweaty forehead gently, rubbing his arm. He pushed you away as best as he could, still crying silently.

"p..ple-please, y/n...d-don't look at me...n-not like...not like this..." He choked out in-between sobs.

"I'm not going anywhere, babyboy. I'm sorry." You apologize, getting out some first aid supplies for his knuckles.

"...please...jus-just..."

You hushed him, gently taking his bloodied hand. He tried pulling away weakly, but to no avail.

"...let me...let me jus...take care of it...I can..." He mumbled. You paid him no mind as you quickly but effectively wrapped him up.

As soon as you were finished, he was back in front of the toilet again. Not much more was coming up, but the sickening retches and sobs still shook within his frail chest.

You bent down next to him, rubbing his back, whispering small words of praise and encouragement. He began to calm down a little as he sat against the wall of the bathroom. He started off into the distance.

"I...why can't I be like...like him anymore?" He muttered,

For a split second, you were confused.

“Like who, baby?”

His eyes stared into you, harsh enough to scald you. Realization hit.

“All Might?” You quietly asked, your hand moving towards his. He slapped it away half heartedly.

“n-no... that’s-he’s not- I-I’m not-“

He began to rip at his hair, his sobs getting louder and more violent. Fear grew inside of you, not knowing how to contain this small man that was so engulfed in despair and grief that he couldn’t see how wonderful he is as a person, not just as a hero.

Toshi got his worth from what he could do for others. He doesn’t feel like he deserves love, especially if he’s not giving it to someone else in just the right way. If he’s not helping anyone, what good is he? And in his smaller form, how could he help anyone?

You grabbed his wrists, making sure he couldn’t hurt himself anymore than he already has.

“Toshinori, please listen to me!” You begged. He went limp. He couldn’t catch his breath, and he was definitely hyperventilating.

“Take some nice, deep breaths for me, okay, sweetie?” You firmly yet sweetly ordered. You set the pace and he followed, his breaths shaky and labored. He calmed down quite a bit, and you loosened your grip on his wrists.

“Do you really love me?” He whimpered quietly.

“Oh, honey... of course I love you. I’ve always loved you, even before I knew who you were. Who you are.”

“You...you were right the first time. Were.”

“No, baby. When you go out in public, people still know you’re All Might, and-“

“Don’t... don’t call me... that name... please, not anymore.”

You didn’t even know how to respond to that. Your heart ached at his pitiful tone.

“Y/n... you don’t know what people... what they say about me now. They laugh and say that I’m just a toothpick. They... they whisper about how I don’t look so good, and about...” he began to cry again. This time, quietly, privately. He curled up into himself, tucking himself away from you and the rest of the world.

“Well, of course people will say things like that,” you began, “did you ever consider that there were some people who criticized All Might, too?”

“...what?”

“Listen, honeybee, people are always going to be saying bullshit like that. No matter who you are. But guess what? There’s always, always going to be more people who are excited to see you, who will always accept you, and who will always see every beautiful gift you have to offer to this world. I know how hard it’s been for you, but you need to know that you’re still so loved, so wanted, so needed in so many people’s lives.”

“Like who? Who could possibly...who could need someone like me?”

“Me. Toshi, I need you here. I love you. We met when you were in this form, in this very body. Don’t you remember?”

He nodded. You wiped away a tear gently.

“I loved you for who you are, not who you were or what you’ve done. For you.”

Shakily, he whispered, “I... I love you, too.”

For the first time that night, he clutched you closer to him. You pulled his head into your chest, as he nestled into you. You couldn’t help but spare a few tears, but he never knew that.

“Are you ready to go to bed?”

He nodded, his grip tightening around your shirt. You helped stand him up on his shakey, baby deer like legs. You led him down the hall, and he paused at the broken photo.

He gestured towards it, mumbling something.

“No, baby, don’t worry about that. I’m going to clean it all up.”

Finally, you arrived at the bed. You pulled back the duvet, readying it for him.

He laid into the soft mattress, sighing in relief.

You tucked him in, standing up. He reached his hand out, begging, “please...don’t leave...me...”

“I’m coming right back, honeydew. I just need to clean up the picture and turn everything off. Okay? Do you need a glass of water or anything?”

He shook his head. “Let... let me clean it up tomorrow, please.”

You ignored all of his pleas for you to leave him be earlier, but something told you that despite his drunken stupor, he really meant this one. You washed your face and tidied up the bathroom, quickly turning off the tv and getting his cards put up, and finally dumping the orange juice cocktail down the sink, along with the rest of the alcohol. Your heart panged, noting the tiny amount remaining in the crystal clear bottle.

Despite him denying his need for water, you brought him a tall glass of ice water along with a smaller glass of ginger ale, as well as a new chilled washcloth.

He was nearly asleep when you got back, but perked up at the sound of your footsteps.

You urged him to drink just a tiny bit of the water, and he obliged. You praised him heavily, placing a kiss on his cheek, before climbing into bed. He turned to face you, pulling you close to him. He kissed you on your forehead before drifting off into a deep, restful sleep.

The next morning, you woke up to an empty bed. You scrambled to get up and rushed into the kitchen, where you found Toshi sipping a modest cup of coffee, the photo of All Might placed in a brand new frame, proudly displayed on the kitchen table.

“Oh, Toshi! You scared me when you weren’t in the bed.”

He looked out the window, sighing deeply. He smiled at you, saying,

“Don’t worry... I am here.”

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ad--misericordiam · 5 years ago

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Screw him, literally; Not SFW. (V. S. Ver.)

w: female-coded language.

Vincent is the sweetest, most precious boy you'll ever encounter. He's so gentle, so careful, so goddamn adorable. A proper cutie. And, yeah, I'm aware he's a 6'2 killer but he's baby, I don't take any criticism. And while most of his kindness towards you, and in general, stems from his crippling insecurity, I believe a substantial amount of it is completely innate. But enough of my cheap psychoanalysis. Onto the juicy part.

You're his inspiration, his muse. And before he was completely sure you were okay being his lover... he turned to his stealth abilities to observe you from the shadows. Voyeurism is an everyday occurrence. Typically, he catches you cooking, reading, singing quietly to yourself, all of it captured in his sketchbook. So, drawing you? Check. Drawing you... naked? Check. He's so, so ashamed of himself for this, but it all started because the bathroom door was left ajar by mistake one day, and you stood there in all your glory, only clad in a teensy towel, brushing your wet hair to get rid of any tangles, fresh out the shower. He was going to leave, really, he was! But then you bent over to put the brush back in the drawer, granting him the most perfect view of your pussy. And if that wasn't enough to make him feel like his mask was going to melt, you went ahead and shed the only thing that was keeping his eye from seeing you completely. His breath hitched, and he had to leave before you caught him red-handed. It was hard drawing your bare body with one hand while the other stroked his cock furiously, but he managed.

Drawing you posing willingly? Double check. Once your relationship was mostly stablished, he didn't need to sneak around so much to watch you. It's flattering, knowing he wants to immortalize you in his beloved sketchbook. He seemed to do it inadvertently, you'd be reading or fiddling with your phone, and he'd fish it out of his overalls to capture what he considers to be a miracle (You're there, and you want him, of all people). When you smile devilishly and discard all your clothes, lying down on the couch, his hands freeze, blue eye taking the size of a dinner plate. He'd gape at you, astounded, and you just know he's blushing up a storm under the mask, “Well? Get to it, Vinny”. You can clearly see the way his flyer is tenting, and yet his hands work diligently to do you justice.

He loves the way this entices you, juices dripping from your slit, lying there untouched and yet so ready to be fucked. The moment he puts the pencil down, you're on your feet, discarded clothes forgotten in your haste to drag him to your shared bedroom. “I'm gonna make you feel so good, baby”, you promise him, and he's panting already, following you blindly, “I want to ride you so bad”. He's putty in your hands after that.

Being used for you pleasure? Using his cock to get yourself off? You could get away with anything, his devotion is absolute. You could tell him to kneel and eat you out in the middle of the day and he'd drop everything to comply. Vinny is smitten. Bo will poke a bit of fun at him, but at the end of the day who's getting his dick sucked? Vincent. You don't take advantage of his willingness to please you, of course. You praise him for it, he deserves it. Telling him he's such a good boyfriend, so good to you, so sweet... it makes him flustered. And horny.

He has the prettiest cock out of all the slashers. Hands down. It's smooth save for a vein that goes from tip to sac on the underside (FYI: Sucking on it is enough to give him an aneurysm), no foreskin, the same shade as the rest of his body but flushed pink almost permanently. He also doesn't grow a lot of pubic hair, but he trims it short regularly, because having it sticky with bodily fluids is uncomfortable. His happy trail is to die for. The tip is particularly sensitive, and suckling on it while stroking him and/or fondling his balls will make him moan your name in a broken voice, thighs trembling. If he refuses to take the mask off, you just have to overstimulate the fuck out of him, doubling down on you efforts to ruin him in the best ways. “Do you want a break, babyboy?”, he nods, chest flushed and sweaty, “Show me your pretty face, then”. By the third orgasm, he tears it off, and you just have to let his cock fall from your hold to coo at him, “Thank you, Vinny”. He needs you to kiss him slowly, pushing his hair out of the way, letting him nuzzle you breasts, using you body to ground himself. This “technique” is also applicable when he's overworking himself and refusing to take a well-deserved break.

Being inside you is his favorite, but fingering you? A really close second. His fingers are deft, working you open carefully with two fingers, curling up just right to make you grab his wrist to keep him in place. He loves that. The heel of his hand grinds against your clit insistently, and your hole keeps making obscene noises that would make you blush if you were coherent enough. “Fuck, Vincent, just like that!”, your hands reach out towards him, breaking him out of his reverie, transfixed on the way the tight ring of muscles sucks his digits in, “Kiss me, please”. He dives towards you, sucking your tongue into his mouth, happily savoring your orgasmic cries of his name.

Riding his face is an experience. He's baffled you want his face between your legs. What he doesn't understand is how amazing he looks there, how debauched he looks under you, blue eye staring up at you, pouty lips parted, big hands seizing your hips to lower you to his mouth. He belongs there with you, being fucked out of his mind and loved sincerely. “That's my good boy”, you mewl, and so does he, “So fucking pretty, and all mine”. He can cum like that, face buried in your cunt, your juices dripping down his cheeks. Hell, he could die right there, and he'd die a happy man. He has a penchant for latching his mouth on your clit and sucking, keeping you in place with an iron grip until you feel overstimulated and faint. He won't stop unless you pull his hair and get off his face, and even then he'll try to chase after you with a displeased whine, disheveled and glassy-eyed. “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N”, he's repeating your name like a prayer, and you just have to sink down on his cock, giving him what he needs. Just you, by his side.

#vincent sinclair #vincent sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair imagine #vincent sinclair smut #vincent sinclair headcanons #house of wax #house of wax imagine #vincent sinclair imagines #house of wax imagines #slashers smut #slashers x reader #slashers x you #slashers imagine #slashers #vincent sinclair x you

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fightevilandthengetblownup · 4 years ago

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FIC: SOMETHING BORROWED, SOMETHING BLUE III

—

PART ONE

PART TWO

“Now, you need to make your eyes really wide-” Jo’s ears perked hearing the false whisper from somewhere behind her as she worked at the stove. Biting down on the inside of her cheeks to keep from smiling, the blonde continued to work on the pancakes for breakfast - using her squeeze bottle to pour the batter out into the shape of a batarang before spelling out her boy’s name inside before flooding the middle as she listened to the talk. “Nice and big like that, yeah. And then what do we say to Mommy?”

“Mommy, can we have blueberries too?”

“That’a boy.” Jack’s whisper disappeared in favor of the warmth in his tone as he smiled down at the boy. Jo glanced over her shoulder, catching the amusement in those blue eyes for a moment before looking back at her pancake. “Let’s go, huh?”

“Yes!” Billy’s voice was high and excited, and Jo schooled her face into a look of surprise as she flipped over the current pancake and then looked down at her son when he tugged on the hem of her sleep shirt. “Moooommy!”

Blinking a few times, Jo smiled down at her sweet boy before answering. “Yeah babyboy?”

“Mommy, I… Umm..” Jo fought down a laugh watching the sudden look of confusion swallowing the young boy’s face, Billy’s eyes blown wide and worried before he held a hand to his lips in thought. Glancing up, she could see Jack’s shoulders shuddering with concealed laughter, before the tug of Billy’s hand caught her attention again. “Mommy, can… can we have blueberries too?”

The way his finger tapped against his bottom lip and his green eyes were big and open and pleading, Jo knew immediately that she was absolutely screwed dealing with him going forward ever saying no. Puppy dog eyes added to that soft pleading tone was just too potent and she let out a small whine of frustration realising just how screwed she was.

“Oh darling boy, of course you can.” Kneeling down as she turned the temperature of the pan down lower in her off hand on the way, Jo leaned in to press a kiss to his forehead with a loud ‘mwah’ noise. “You get Jack to help you grab them out and wash them proper, alright?”

“Yes Mommy!”

Sending a tiny, pretend scowl over her son’s head towards the smirking man, Jo turned back to the pan and checked the base of the current pancake before sliding it out and onto the boy’s black and red plate before starting on the next pancake for the other adult. Slowly drawing out a spider followed by its web, she flooded the gaps between as she kept one ear out for any trouble from her men as she carefully made Jack’s pancake, and then a cutesy looking mallet for her own pancake design; Jo bit down on a chuckle hearing her love explaining carefully how to rinse and then dry the blueberries and pile them into a little bowl to share on the table. Looking over her shoulder as she flipped her pancake, she looked on fondly as she watched the little blond boy carry his bounty of blueberries onto the table like they were something special.

“Alrighty boys, who’s ready for pancakes?” She chirped happily as she flipped her pancake out onto her own plate and turned off the burner for now, picking up all three plates carefully before carrying them to the table herself. “I know I am.”

“Me me me!�� Billy cried happily, clambering into his seat and kicking his feet joyfully, before letting out an excited squeal seeing his little batarang pancake. “Batcake! It’s a Batcake!”

“Now, is that what Batman eats for breakfast?” Jack replied curiously, pressing a kiss to the little boy’s head as he sat a sippy cup of juice in front of Billy before placing a glass of the same down for himself and another for Jo with another kiss to the crown of her head that made her tingle all over with how right this all felt. “Oh!” The surprised noise made her smile as she looked over to the look of pleased surprise on his face at seeing his own pancake design. “Jo…”

“What? Only the best for my boys!”

The chuckle she got in response was cut through by the shrill sound of a ringtone from the end of the table where their mobiles were kept in a basket, keeping technology out of family meal times at a suggestion from Jack’s that made Jo feel so special and focused on when that was first suggested. The sound cut off pretty quickly, and both adults rolled their eyes, whoever it was would be called back later. As soon as it stopped though, it started again. And then the other phone was going off as well. And then the duller sound of the singular landline from the front hall chimed in as well.

“What the fu-” Jo cut off her swear with a glance at her son, the need to cut down on her swearing around the last year really having become prominent after a few too many comments from his daycare teacher, but found it hard not to finish as all three phones quieted and then started ringing again. “Okay, rule break?”

“You help Billy with his bluebs, I’ll check what’s up.”

“Thanks, hun.”

Jo let out a soft sigh as Jack set his utensils down and stood up to fish his ringing phone out of the basket and answer it, as well as taking her distractingly ringing phone, out to the hall while she refocused on breakfast.

Billy ate not only his first batarang, but another two full pancakes and almost the whole bowl of blueberries through the meal, sipping his juice and asking with those big green puppy-eyes to go to the playground that afternoon; and Jo got through another pancake all her own as well as her juice and a cup of matcha before their missing member finally reemerged. Followed unexpectedly by Ellen and Bobby, still in their shoes and holding Billy’s overnight bag.

“Nanny! Bobby!” Billy screeched happily, flinging himself away from where Jo had been getting him to help her with unstacking the dishwasher while they’d awaited Jack’s return. “What’re you doin’ here?”

“Billyboy, we thought you might like a weekend sleep over?” Ellen said happily as Bobby had bent down to scoop up the excited, wiggly boy. “We missed you so much, and you haven’t been over in ages.”

“Mom, you babysat last week-” Jo started with a frown at the unexpected arrival, glancing at the clock and fully surprised to even see her step-dad so awake and focused at such an early hour, let alone dressed and at her own house. “What’s-”

“Jobug,” her mother spoke softly, as Bobby turned towards Jack to double check on any extra toys to pack for Billy’s weekend, as she’d come up to wrap Jo up into a tight hug. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I know you didn’t mean this to happen-”

“What to happen?”

“You just talk to Jack, okay Jojo? You take the whole weekend, my darlin’ girl, you take the love you deserve okay?”

“Mom?” Jo was beyond confused, wide eyed and uncertain as she received a kiss to the forehead from both her parents in a whirlwind of quietly spoken words between the other three adults that made no sense to her before her son was whisked off to his grandparent’s place amid happy cries of adventure leaving her bewildered and confused as to what just happened. “What-”

There wasn’t even time for her to vocalise her questions - what happened, what was going on, what was wrong, was everyone okay - before she was pulled into and wrapped up in loving arms and felt a strong hand gently soothing over her hair and down her back.

“Jo, love, I’m so sorry.” Jack’s voice was rough and hoarse, and as she looked up at him she could see something swirling in his eyes that troubled her. “I’m sorry. I should’ve protected you, I should’ve known, I’m sorry.”

“Wha- what is going on, Jack?” She asked firmly that time, staring up at him and feeling her face twisting into a scowl at the sympathetic sadness flashing across his face chased along by some guilty look. “Jack fuckin’ Grey, you tell me right fuckin’ now what’s goin’ on!”

The quiet that followed on from her growled words echoed in the quiet space of their home, and Jo felt uneasy at how cautiously the other looked at her - his hand still gently rubbing at her back as the other held her steady - as he chewed his lip before saying softly. “The article came out… And I think you should read it with me.”

—

THE FUTURE MRS. GREY?

The Modern Fairy Tale Inside The Wedding Of The Year

By Chuck Shurley

Just off the main shopping district of the West Side there is a place where fairytales begin. Inside a deceptively worn building there was the start of many stories that are shaping the news of tomorrow - and I was fortunate enough to uncover the true Cinderella story that was unfolding in secret behind all the cameras and spotlights on the wedding of one French aristocrat-turned-investor Ian Essaim and socialite Shada Grey.

As all good fairy tales must start - this story started once upon a time…

Once upon a time, there was a new American Sweetheart in the form of the beautiful so called Shada Grey. She portrayed a version of herself to the cameras that was viewed as bubbly and perky, with a love for eclectic fashion. Those who knew the woman that would become this girl would say her acting skills were wanting for all she did was play herself on the silver screen - just with a wardrobe founded by and crafted by a studio and their stylists rather than the money from her brother’s pockets. The sister of famed and elusive artist, Jack Grey, who has shied away from the spot light after what was described as a ‘manic depressive episode’ by some - Shada Grey has captured the imagination of those who strive for the women of Golden Era Hollywood wrapped up in a pair of Louboutins and Prada. The Darling of America and the fairy tale princess having a fairy tale wedding.

However, there was another woman who has the capability of capturing the hearts of the country who will be standing five steps back from the princess on her wedding day.

…There was once another young woman with a wedding on the horizon. Joanna Beth Harvelle was getting married to the love of her life, an idealistic captain in the Marine’s called William Mark Reynolds. A pivotal moment in any woman’s life, and the same type of event that I have been lucky enough to be covering for the aforementioned Essaim/Grey wedding this year. But this story could not be further removed than that story - this story is of loss and love instead.

Miss Harvelle and Captain Reynolds were married from the court house, the only photo of their day a Polaroid taken by the bride’s mother on the steps outside. The bride wore a white dress from the bargain bins, and the pair spent their wedding night bidding one another farewell in preparation for the groom’s deployment two months later. In contrast, Miss Grey and Mr Essaim’s wedding is being held at an undisclosed location costing seven-figures, the bride will be wearing a custom Vera Wang and the whole wedding is being documented by not only print media such as myself but covered in depth by Miss Grey’s television show in a ten-episode special season and by most other media outlets.

But as fairy tales go - there must always be an early loss. Hansel & Gretel their abandonment, Rapunzel the pricking of a finger upon the spinning needle, and for our Cinderella was the loss of her love. Captain Reynolds was killed in action six months after his wedding, leaving a pregnant widow behind to receive his Purple Heart and put the pieces of her life back together. When speaking with Joanna, known affectionately by most as Jo, about that point in her life - the clear sorrow is still evident in her voice and the listing of her husband’s achievement. However those clouds passed quickly with the birth of their son, William Dean Harvelle who is nearly five at the moment of writing and has a love for frosting sugar cookies, and her “other baby” as the blonde would say.

Metallicake has become an icon in the city over the four years of operation from the old warehouse building just off the beaten track. According to it’s owner, many souls have found their way to her door through word of mouth and the scent of baked goods on the air. One particular soul was, indeed, drawn there out of the rain and drawn back time and time again as anyone who has tried the baked goods from this modern day Cinderella’s kitchen would attest - coming back is inevitable. According to Ms Harvelle, her ties to the Wedding of the Year began almost three years ago when Jack Grey returned to her bakery and subsequently fell in love with the flour-coated princess.

Entering the building you will see exactly the impact of this diamond in the rough woman who carry’s a purple, bruised heart for the loss of a national hero. Ms Harvelle has drawn not only the eye but the artistry out of the most elusive and most revered artist of his time in the country to her walls among other things. Those who visit Metallicake are greeted with an ever changing mural designed, refined and painted painstakingly by the famed Mr Grey. From the photos provided by the baker herself, and a subsequent valuation by several esteemed art buyers - the walls of the bakery itself are worth more than the cost of the elaborate wedding the bakery will be producing a mammoth cake for and then some. The tattoo parlour next door, owned by a man known as the ‘Doctor Badass of Tattooing’ Ash Miles, shares equally in Ms Harvelle’s fortune with not only signed art work on display but also the unique privilege of being the only authorised tattoo artist of such artwork. This work, as well as his own, is on display not only in INKED magazine and this publication, but upon the very body of Ms Harvelle so far.

Being a muse and accomplished baker does not appear to be the extent of this Cinderella’s ambitions though. Listening to the way Ms Harvelle would speak of love and marriage - a self-proclaimed realist who expects little more from her life, supposedly - and her joy for both bride and groom to be, one cannot believe to suspects she’ll long be a widow rather than to take up the name almost as soon as American Sweetheart Shada Grey surrenders it.

When sent to the small converted warehouse to cover the baking and artistry connected to the creation of what will be an extravagance on-top of the already fantastically over designed and over quaffed wedding, the preparation was to hear about the difference between genoise and chiffon sponges, the merits of fondant and buttercream, and inevitable discussion about the endless creation of edible flowers. And that is what was covered, and yet so much more.

Ms Harvelle has a skill with words and with applying them to the work she does. She is an artist in her own right, but with shaping the perceptions of those around her. She can talk at length and display great skill with the multiple display cakes that were crafted and recorded in a special behind the scenes look hosted on Rolling Stones website at time of publication. However she can also draw others into her theology on the connection between her work and the world around her.

“People are like cakes,” Ms Harvelle said. “And everyone pairs with someone else perfectly. Take Shada for example - she’s so sunny and bright and vivacious. Full of spirit and life and carefree. She also has a little bite to her when protecting those she loves, but is simply so versatile and beloved it’s hard to remember she can be sweet and sour.” In this journalists time spent with the bride and bridal party so far, this interpretation appears to be true, though perhaps only just from the magic weaved by Ms Harvelle rather than any truth. “And Ian is so grounded and down to earth despite how he may appear, he too is versatile and always there for people. He’s a genuinely kind man, and they both work so well together. Sunshine and earthiness, but altogether sweet.” Ms Harvelle weaved her story together in her cake baking, and the slice of lemon chiffon cake with a blueberry and basil frosting that was served up as a demonstration of the couple was phenomenal not only in tasting, but in the craftsmanship of the story telling.

When asked about herself, the widow is far less vocal and considered. “Me? I’m just flour!” The lack of concern or thought evident, but the nature of her choice showing how pivotal her role in the creation of not only the physical cakes to be loved and adored, but the metaphorical cake of life and her underappreciated value is.

Watching Ms Harvelle work and seeing the creations coming out of her small kitchen, one would believe there was an army of bakers behind the scenes crafting the wide array of baked goods and speciality items which fill the counter of not only the storefront but several other establishments around the city. But instead, there is a one-woman powerhouse working diligently, day in and day out.

On the week I followed Ms Harvelle through her daily routine as she developed, trialed and presented the socialite couple with their wedding cake options, the true meaning of hard work was on display.

The days started before the sun rose three days out of five, and Ms Harvelle was always wide awake as we met at her bakery. From there I witnessed the whirlwind that was something out of a movie scene itself. Her world feels like a montage of beeping alarms, constant tray movements, and endlessly creaming butter and sugar. The tireless Cinderella toiling away that has no time for anything but baking, cleaning and yet sings as she works without a single mouse around to lend a hand, before closing shop as the sun would go down and she would head home before doing it all again.

One would be mistaken to think she had time for nothing else but the extravagant cake that would need to be presented at the end of the week, but life goes on.

A lengthy photoshoot for INKED magazine on one day, and a day’s shopping for dresses with the rest of the specifically chosen bridal party to reflect that ‘down to earth’ narrative of the wedding couple were somehow sandwiched in between the tireless work to create fondant ruffles, edible floral arrangements and all sorts in between for the discerning eye of America’s Sweetheart to dissect by week’s end.

And yet on top of these inconveniences - of which Ms Harvelle never had anything less than a smile and a warmth when speaking of completing these tasks for her friends and loved ones - she still has a life.

Her Prince Charming in the form of the aloof Mr Grey would visit the bakery each day to bid her well wishes, steal a kiss and perhaps walk her home to the brick townhouse Mr Grey bought twelve years ago and according to sources moved his soon-to-be fiancé and son into two years prior. Her role as a mother is still needing to be completed each day, and watching mother and son interact - there is no question that this Cinderella finds time to be both baker and mother to her fullest. And her role as bridesmaid and friend seems to be never ending either, with the beauty taking the bride out for lunches and always having time to fend off frenzied, worried phone calls and provide the soothing voice of reason among the socialite crowd on display regularly throughout the week.

Perhaps it is naïve to believe in fairy tales and magic in today’s age where romance is a fabricated story pumped out through television and movies, where women compete against one another for the so called Bachelor, and a woman playing herself had caught the imagination of the country.

And yet, in this story where the bride and groom met over a coffee in the small kitchen of a tiny bakery, perhaps the true Cinderella story does exist and the real Cinderella doesn’t need any saving by a prince - she’s happy with the flour, cocoa and soot on her face - but instead will bring her prince back to the fire with her.

---

Hollow. That was the word to describe how she’d felt with every word of that reading. Absolutely hollow.

What she’d expected after the confusing appearance of her parents to whisk away her boy and the unreservedly supportive hold that she’d been wrapped up in as Jack’d guided her through to the lounge and onto the couch to read the beautifully presented and laid out article on his laptop. The cover photo was beautiful - the gorgeous three layered mock up with the gentle sunlight catching the glimmering gold specks on the fondant photographed so beautifully - and as he’d brought the article up Jo hadn’t even read the title as she’d initially excitedly pointed at the embedded video at the top and focused on wanting to watch that before reading any silly words. Jack hadn’t stopped her, and had rubbed her shoulder and quietly reiterated how lovely her work looked and how amazing a baker she was and how lucky his sister was for her to work on the masterpiece for her and how well she discussed the techniques and design choices as they’d watched the video. That she had finally registered the title of the article halfway through the video below it changed the sweet taste of maple syrup still lingering in her mouth to something bitter tasting like bile as she smiled and nodded through the remaining minutes of the video before she couldn’t stop herself reading the article.

Hollow, and wide open. As if she was a pumpkin carved out and put on display. A cream puff full of air and such a flimsy shell of existence without the filling to stablise her if left in this condition. Like a meringue - fragile and likely to collapse in on herself if the oven door was opened too early.

That photo - her pregnant and haunted in the illfitting black dress shaking hands with the man who’d sent the other to war and brought him back to her in a coffin - was in there. The one she’d asked not to. Right beside a picture of her tugging on her new love’s scarf and their smiling and in love in her sacred kitchen space.

She’d felt torn open and like her skin had been peeled off and displayed for anyone and everyone with each cut into the private bubble she’d been living in broken open within the writer’s words. She hated it.

And worst of all, Jack’s hands had rubbed at her comfortingly, and he’d spoken gently that it wasn’t her fault for being trusting, and that he was sorry she had this happen to her, and that he loved her and supported her just made her feel all filled up with love and support all over again even as she was left open and empty he was there to comfort and helped to fill the void left behind by those black and white words. And she’d broken down in a way she hadn’t for years - she’d actually found herself crying at the fresh loss of that protective scab that had kept her intact all along now she had someone to let her deflate like a forgotten souffle.

Once she’d finally stopped crying - babbled words between the gasps as she’d tried to explain what she was crying over of ‘sorry’ and ‘so long ago’ and ‘not like that’ - Jo was surprised to see the love and concern pouring out of the other’s blue eyes as he watched her carefully, not at all guarded the way she’d expected at finding out about her hiding yet another big secret from him. Hiding her history yet again.

“Here,” His voice was soothing as he’d held out a tissue to her, the box moved to his knee as he continued to rub her back gently with his other hand. “It’s okay, Jo, it’s alright.”

“How can you say that?” She gasped the words out hoarsely, voice rough and tired from her crying. “I-”

“You did nothing, Jo, you didn’t do anything.”

“I lied-”

“Did I ever ask?” He asked gently as she was getting worked up again, hands fidgeting and picking at each other and brown eyes wide and panicked. Jack’s hands covered hers, holding her gently like she was something to be handled carefully. “I didn’t ask, you didn’t have to tell until you were ready. And I’m sorry that the choice was taken from you.”

“I shouldn’t’ve-”

“You’re an open heart, trusting person - it’s what’s so sweet and endearing about you and something I love so dearly, Jo. Don’t apologise for being you.”

“I...would’ve told you. Eventually.” She mumbled the words out, hands shaking even despite the comforting squeeze of his over hers. She would have. One day. Probably that mythical moment she’d thought about when they’d be curled up in bed and he’d have said something about their future and wanting life together and asking if she’d wanted to get married some day eventually, and she’d have told him the truth then and in much simpler words than the bullshit that the journalist had flourished her story with. She had felt that day approaching, but they hadn’t quite gotten to talking about the future further than plans for a vacation next year before Billy started school. “I… I can’t believe this- Oh fuck! What about Shada?!”

There was a second before Jo noticed the look on his face shift from concern into something closer to surprise for a moment, before his mouth twitched into that soft loving smile that made her stomach flip. “Shada’s okay. She was the one who was calling - she is… not happy with that asshole journalist.”

“Oh… Oh, should I step down?”

“What?”

“I’m ruinin’ the weddin’ - a distraction - should I step out-”

“Jo!” The smile she got then was practically blinding, tugging her in for a tight hug as Jack laughed gently. “Shada’s worried about you! She’s upset for you, not because of you. She’s already screaming about getting a new writer in and getting lawyers to sue or something if you want to. I mean, she’s thinking to for defamation for herself-”

“As she should!” Jo cried back, letting out an awkward giggle as she curled into the warmth of his chest. “That was so mean and wrong for what was said about her. That asshole-” Jo’s eyes blew wide as she thought about how nice and friendly the reporter had seemed, how he’d seemed to care what she had to say - that she’d been tricked and manipulated into telling her story when all she’d wanted was to make a good cake and share her love for her dark haired friend. She felt the sharp stab of betrayal in that, and shivered slightly to think that she’d have to meet with the reporter again sometime soon. He was due back to write about the flowers, and Shada’s dress, and so much more - the idea of facing him after such a humiliating manipulation made her stomach twist. “-oh I hope he’s fired! He should be! What is her manager doing? Does Bobby know? Oh, what about-”

“Jo, my love, it’s fine.” His voice was calming and soft as she’d started to work herself up again, breaths sharp and short and caught up on the edge of panic and mania filling her mind as she thought about just how much she’d misjudged and maybe ruined the whole of her dear friend’s special days. “Bobby’s already got the shows lawyers onto it, and Shada said her manager is already demanding a retraction of the article and it to be suppressed online until they can determine the legal ways forward-”

“Good!” She seethed quietly, feeling queasy and responsible and guilty all in one at how much the words written must had hurt the other woman to read. Every other sentence was a backhand compliment, a knife designed to dig and cut and hurt the poor girl, and that Jo’d been used to do that to her hurt too much to consider. She’d have to bake something as an apology as soon as her legs felt strong enough to support her weight. And something for Bobby. And the show team. And Ian and Ombre. And for Jack. The thought of her boyfriend brought her mind whirling into how nasty the reporter’s words, the focus on who Jack was and what he had been that had to have hurt too brought her into herself with a gasp; brown eyes wide and focused onto her boyfriend’s face with a distraught look. “Oh and you! You should sue too! For what he said ‘bout you-”

“Nothing written in there was wrong when it came to me, Jo.” Jack’s eyes were that darker blue, the shadowed look that always showed up when he was serious about whatever he was talking about. “I’ve got no issues with it about me.”

Jo shook her head, tucking into his chest with a sigh as she felt a shiver run down her spine. “It wasn’t- It said that we… that you were- that we’re going ta be-”

“I mean, I was hoping to ask on our anniversary next month, so if you can wait until then…”

She froze at his words - the warm, bemused tone rumbling in his chest she was pressed up against - and felt like that hollow feeling was suddenly gone as quick as it had arrived. Replaced with a stomach-flipping surge of happiness she hadn’t even felt the first time around, her whole body felt like it was on fire and her heart felt like it couldn’t be held in by her chest it was so full and light. Her head was spinning, and pulling back a little, she blinked in confusion as she looked back into the flushed but openly smiling face of the other. How could he be so open, so honest, especially to her when all she had ever done was hide things from him?

“Wh-what?”

His eyes lit up and the edges of his lips pulled up into an amused grin as his hands moved from her back to hold her cheeks, thumbs stroking over the top of her cheekbones gently. “Do you not want to wait til then?” His voice was quiet and she strained to hear him over the thudding of her heart filling her ears. Jack’s smile got softer as he shifted one hand back over her ear and into her hair gently. “Do you want me to ask now? Because I will. I’d ask in a heartbeat if you wanted me to, Jo. I’d ask it every day if that’s what you want or what it took.”

“You… Wait-” She paused a second, heart beating out of her chest and her eyes drinking him in as if she’d never really seen him before. Like she could finally see all the colors that made him whole - the blue of his eyes brighter, the pink of his lips more soft and kissable than ever, even the dark purple under his eyes from their late night movies and early morning starts - after having lived with some filter on. Living in a glass box to protect her from hurt again, and him from being cursed like all the others that had had her heart so far. Swallowing thickly, Jo blinked repeated a few times before shifting closer into his lap, prompting his other hand to drop around her waist and support her gently instead. Support her like he had ever since they’d become an us not two separate entities. There was a pause that he just looked at her, before Jo found herself leaning in closely and that thudding in her ears entirely disappearing into the background as she heard herself speak from her heart before her brain could stop her. “Will you marry me?”

That pause drew out longer - every tiny noise from the ticking of the clock on the wall to the buzz of the muted television to the muffled sound of the world moving outside without them was like thunder as they stayed in their quiet, frozen bubble - before there was a surge between them. Like a bolt of lightening sending energy into both of them had her lips smashed against his, and his hands gripping her tightly as she pulled him into her all the harsher.

That she’d asked and that he hadn’t answered didn’t matter, the fact was this was right in a way that it’d never been right for her before. This was what she’d been waiting for. This was who she’d been waiting for. She might not be a blushing bride like his sister, but she was who he’d been waiting for, and he was who she’d always meant to find. The safety and feeling of home and support she’d been missing even before she’d been left alone before, before she’d said her vows to a man she loved but more as idea than a man, before she’d thrown her roses on the coffin as a child. This was the support she’d been craving and needed - the love she’d searched everywhere for and then glassed herself off from when it didn’t show up when she wanted it. Even if it was a few years late.

---

Her hands were steady and forceful as she continued to roll the fondant thinner and thinner, to the longest roll it could before fluting it gently as she cut the thin strip in half and laid the ruffle down across the nearest baking tray with all the rest. These ruffles were the thinnest she'd ever made, and there was only six more to make before she'd have to start assembly. Or start the gentle paintwork of dusting the edges like an ancient book with gold dust. Or maybe she would do a third crumb coat on the cakes. Just to make sure.

Jo's mind was working seven steps ahead of herself and she had to pause at the trembling in her fingers. This was the most important cake she'd ever made. It had to be perfect.

Nervously working on the next set of ruffles, she felt herself having to pause and try the deep breathing exercises her therapist had taught her months ago. The exercises to calm her down from spiralling into an absolute destructive frenzy. She'd been struggling with keeping herself balanced for months now, ever since that article shook her core, and she was so thankful she had the support around her to work her way through it.

The weeks following that article had been some of the hardest of her life but nothing except for her seemed to be changed. Nobody except for her few newest friends had learned anything they didn't already know. And aside from a bone crushing hug from Shada every time they met for a month, and the gentle coaxing from Jack to remember everything was fine, nothing changed aside from her. Her whole world had tilted the wrong way but no one else seemed to notice it.

It had taken up until the week of crafting the extravagant and beautiful wedding cake for how hard she was struggling to really hit her. The only time she felt in control of herself and happy that week being the long hours she spent in the bakery - perfecting batches upon batches of buttercream and the fillings for the cake, the sheets upon sheets of cake baked and cut to an unusual and beautiful geometric diamond rather than the traditional circle, the hours after hours of sugar work in vibrant purples bad shimmering golds and silvers along with the delicate edible flowers to match the bride's overflowing bouquet. That week she'd devoted more time than ever to her work and it was the only times she felt happy and normal and like herself didn't really sink in until the night before the wedding.

Jack had been waiting up when she'd finally decided it was done and got home at two in the morning despite having to be up in three hours to start the bridal party work. He'd held her close and been all things supportive, and that she'd cried all three remaining hours and somehow functioned and floated happily beside her future sister-in-law the whole day through was probably more to do with running on fumes than her genuine excitement she had for the beautiful bride and her husband. It was probably more to do with the appointment booked for the following week for her to finally talk to someone and start working through her issues instead of hiding from them.

It was how she'd found herself reflecting on how important that cake had been for her - it had represented all of her guilt over her life becoming something new all again, her desire to please and her want to be part of something bigger than just her and her boy again - and the unexpected amount of stress that had come along with the entire process that was how she’d been convinced to speak to someone. Seeing her work splashed over news sites for weeks, and the months leading up to her sister-in-law’s wedding from that horrible article all the way through that while not always a focused part of the story, that her life was splashed across the media and her motives dissected as much as her work was had sent her spiralling in need of help. That her fiance was beside her the whole time - praising her work, encouraging her and protecting her and her son from the worst of it - helped soften the blow that she wasn’t as strong as she’d always made out to be. And that despite pouring every bit of love she had into that beautiful purple wedding cake had been enough to keep her solid until it had been delivered.

Placing the last of the delicate ruffles she’d made to the side, Jo pulled a ball of sunshine yellow fondant towards herself to work on instead. The next crumb coat could wait. Instead, she rolled that fondant out into thin strips again - however rather than rolling the edges thinner and thinner until they fluted into soft ribbons, the baker collected the delicate piece of lace she’d collected from the trimming of her dress and pressed it flush against the fondant. Rolling over the fabric and then peeling it gently off each strip of fondant, the beautiful lace design embossed into the yellow sugar confection to mimic what she would be wearing the next day, before moving each stripe of fondant onto another baking tray to be stored away until they were needed later. It was a rhythm, one she was used to, and working slowly she kept up her calming breaths as she tried to sink into the pattern. It was just any other cake, after all.

Where she’d poured so much thought and weeks of consideration into balancing the meaning of ingredients, the personalities of the bride and groom, and the early summer vibes of the wedding into the beautifully tiered cake she eventually crafted for Shada and Ian’s wedding - the creation she was making now was somehow so much less thoughtful in her mind. She didn’t spend hours testing different cake types and deciding on the main flavors before deciding on something that perfectly matched like berries and lemons - she knew it would be a chocolate cake from the moment she’d even tried to consider what to make, and she’d known that there would be a hazelnut filling based off of the brownies her love begged her to make the most. She didn’t spend her time crafting different decorations trying to balance the extravagance of the event, the importance of those getting married and to make something both timeless, classic and modern and fashion forward - she knew that it would be a simple white cake with minimal color but the buttercup yellow and gold to balance the classic, stark white elements. She didn’t worry about trying again and again to push the extremes of what she could achieve, even as that had excited and thrilled her to surprise everyone with such a decadent and beautiful creation unlike any other - she knew the small single tiered cake would be more than enough for her loved ones, and there was no one she needed to impress or thrill more.

The sound of an alarm brought her out of her thinking as she finished the last few yellow fondant decorations, turning to pull the brownies out of the oven and replace them with the waiting tray of cupcakes. The baking of all the other treats that she intended to fill the small trestle table for desserts with the next day was in itself another thing entirely - delicate tiny pastries with perfectly presented lemon tarts and tiny chocolate brownies, cream puffs and mille-feuille, chocolate eclairs and marzipan treats, treacle tarts and miniature cherry pies - each carefully selected and decided upon based on their family and friends favorite treats.

But when she pictured the table in her mind it was with the simple white cake on it’s pedestal surrounded by a bounty of treats and the tiny bouquets of baby's breath that would tie into her bridal bouquet and the flowers that Billy would throw before her and would be tucked into the lapel of her love’s jacket as they said vows she believed in again now. It was full circle and fully ready - the image of a day unfolding as she moved onto the final little dessert decorating, that she’d never had before. The day she’d dreamed about that never happened the last time, that she didn’t fantasise about before like she was now, the way she wanted every little step to be just so where before she’d never pictured herself walking down an aisle, and exchanging vows, and wearing white, and holding flowers, and staring into loving eyes, and making promises she fully intended to keep, and exchanging rings that she wouldn’t then take off, and celebrating with everyone she cared about not sharing a pepperoni pizza and counting down days on a calendar, and knowing that Sunday morning she’d wake up happy and fulfilled and the person she’d not yet become the last time, the person she hadn’t realised she was meant to be. It was her dreams coming true for once. And her being her own dream.

---

#au stories #bakery au #jopov

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dietcokeangel2004 · 5 years ago

Text

Taking control

Stuart Twombly x Dom! Reader

Warnings:

• Sub! Stuart

• Mistress kink

• Strap on

• Praise kink

• Lewd writing

• Begging

• Edging

• Nipple play

• Face slapping

Stuart Twombly. Where to begin. He was your best friend but also happened to be boyfriend. Yup he’s a dick but you knew this when you got involved with the beanie wearing asshat. But he’s honestly the best thing ever, and the sex life is the best.

You never would imagine that you’d be into being the dominant one **ever** during sex. But when Stuart suggested it one day awhile back it kinda became a thing that occasionally happened behind closed doors.

You never really ever thought of it with anyone before, not even with Stuart, until he mentioned it. Not gonna lie, you were super nervous when you first tried it. Not only did you not know what the fuck you were doing, but that fact that you didn’t know how you were supposed to act.

But you’re quite surprised how well you learned and became a natural pro at making Stuart shiver and squeal underneath you. As time went on and you guys played this way, you became more confident about teasing and taking control.

And today you were feeling particularly in the need of having Stuart quivering for you. Knowing Stuart will of course be on his phone even at work, an idea forms in your beautiful brain. You leisurely search through your sex drawer looking for something to send him that’ll drive him up the wall.... and his pants down.

Picking up a beautiful light blue strap on and attaching it to the straps that sling around your hips. You hmmm as you pull it on over your leggings. Grabbing your phone you snap it from an angle where he can see how long it is and how your hand is casually stroking it. Writing out a teasingly sext *hey little prince, can’t wait to see you after work.*You hit send, and pull off the strap on while waiting for a reply.

A ding from your phone notified you that Stuart had seen and messaged you back. Heading to check it you look at what it says.

*Oh fuckkkk!!! I’m at work!!!*

You groan out loud, what a dumbass he shouldn’t be on his phone at work. So you tell him just that.

* Well then, sorry to inform you but you wouldn’t have a problem at work if you weren’t on your phone kitten*

You snicker to yourself as you pick out a pretty bra to wear for the night. You always preferred wearing a bra or shirt when using a strap on. It felt weird just having them flop everywhere dogging Stuart. Another ding.

* okay you’re right but still, are you trying to kill me?! I have to try to leave work in a half an hour with this!*

You chuckle out loud knowing exactly what Stuart must look like right now. Flushed face, ears bright pink, sweaty hands constantly being wiped on his pants, jittery legs and last but by far not the least, the huge noticeable tent in his beige khakis.

* I know lol. They’ll call security because they’ll think you’re trying to smuggle a gun 😂*

You decided to leave your phone after that knowing that he’ll just be complaining the whole damn time.

A half an hour later Stuart was stumbling through the door.

“ Hey, baby! Umm is that what we’re doing tonight?” Stuart eagerly questioned. He was nervously scratching the back of his neck, already knowing the answer, already awaiting the actions to follow.

“Mmmm babyboy I think we both know that’s what we’re doing tonight.” You skitter out as you grab him by the tie, gently pulling him to your room.

“ Strip.” You demand, while analyzing your nails. Stuart lets out a loud moan, already hard as a diamond.

He kicks off his shoes and socks, next to go is his pants. He’s struggling so you take pity on your baby and start undoing his tie and buttons on his shirt, while he finished trying to strip off his pants. He looks at you while going to sit on the bed. But your quicker as you grab his arm and spin him back around. Whimpering he looks at you with submission and eyes questioning what he’s done wrong.

You quirk an eyebrow and slutty whisper “I said strip, you don’t look very naked to me now do you little bunny?”

“Ohhh, m’sorry.” Stuart stammered as he started to pull off his America Eagle boxers.

“ um you’re sorry what? Hmmm?” You demandingly questioned the pale man.

once boxer clad now naked, Stuart open mouthed stared at you and porngraphically moaned. It reverberated off the walls. Loud and whiny he huffed “ I’m sorry mistress.”

“Mmm such a good boy!” You gleam at him while you shove him semi roughly onto the bed. He groans out as you pick up his favourite strap on. You pull it on as you grab the lube and smear it along your slender fingers. Stuart watched you with hooded eyes already whimpering and begging you to fuck him. He got like this a lot, whiny, whimpering and babbling incoherent things.

He liked it when he had to beg for it, and you liked making him beg. As you stretched him and scissored his asshole, you spoke dirty sinful things out into the open of the room.

“ Do you like this baby? Hmm do you like it when you take it in the ass for you mistress? Do you like taking it in the ass from your mistress?? Hmmm such a good little boy!” And with that a big sloppy kiss was placed on the middle of his stomach, right above his angry red dick. He was spread out on his back with his legs spread and his already leaking cock laying on his stomach. He was blushing beet red and flailing his hands around above his head.

“ yes mistress, oh, oh, oh I love it!! I love taking it in the the ass for you mistress!!! Mmmmh augh!! I’m a good little boy! Ohhhhh mistress please another!” Stuart babbled and pleaded while one hand covered and rubbed his blushing face.

“And who’s good little boy are you baby?” You added the third finger while you started to stroke his big pretty cock. Yes you just described Stuart’s dick as pretty. You never would have thought of a dick as pretty, but when you seen Stuart’s you downright whined and told him that he had the prettiest cock on earth. So thinking of this, you decided to tell your little slut below you.

“ ohhh I’m yours! All yours mistress! I- I- I”

“Now you just have the prettiest cock ever don’t you baby? Oh I love it!!!” You interrupted a mumbling Stuart and pulled your sticky fingers out of him. he whined at the loss of your petite fingers, but when he seen you smearing lube all over the strap on he let out a strangled moan throwing his head back.

He liked it when he had to beg for it, and you liked making him beg.

“ What do you want baby, huh?? Oh what’s wrong!?” You teased his hole with the tip of the strap on.

“ Mistressssss!!!” He whines out.

“Whattttt??” You mocked his whiney voice while pushing just the tip inside of his taut hole and pulling back out.

He struggled to form a sentence... or any words at all.

“Mis- mis- mistress! Please I, I want you to fuck me!” He groaned out. Head thrown back, holding his legs apart for you. Spread and ready, just how you like him.

“Now baby, we both know you can do better than that!” You reassured the flustered male beneath you.

You decided to make him struggle even more and played with his sensitive nipples. While he was attempting to put together his best sentences you toyed with his nipples. You tweaked, tugged, twisted and rolled them in between your nimble fingers. Stuart mewled out at the feeling, his cock leaking. He wouldn’t last very long once you finally started, which was okay. He didn’t have too and usually didn’t. To you both it didn’t matter how long he lasted when you guys did this. As long as he achieved an amazing orgasm and whatever he needed to get out.

“Please mistress I need you to fuck me! I’m begging you! Mmmm I need to feel my release from you mistress! I need you! I need you to fuck my little boy pussy mistress!!” Stuart practically hollered out. He had his hands hooked under his knees holding his legs open and apart.

“Oh baby! Now that’s a good dirty little boy isn’t it! We both knew you had it in you kitten!” You plunged into him while continuing playing with his nipples. Stuart nearly shrieked at the feeling of your false cock filling him. You started off with nice long deep thrusts. Gradually you got harder, rougher and quicker. He continued babbling underneath you, his big cock leaking pre-cum all over his chest and treasure trail. He was close, so close. You knew he needed something else, but as usual he liked it when he had to beg for it, and you liked making him beg.

“What’s wrong baby, hmm?? What mistress’s baby boy need??”

“Oh! I-I-I ohhhh!!! I- please smack mistress!”

You cut him off as soon as the words left his mouth. The contact of skin slapping skin echoed through the apartment. With a strangled gawking noise, Stuart came exploding white strings of cum all over his chest and your stomach. You slowed your motions and pulled out of him slowly. Taking off the strap on you pull him up putting him under the covers. Lying with him for a couple of minutes, both calmingly catching your breathes and listening to the comfortable safe silence between you two. This was your safe spot. Not in the bed, or in the apartment. But with each other. You could be anywheres and you’d both know that you’d be safe and happy if you were anywheres with each other. With that soft thought, and a soft smile for your lover, you head out to the kitchen for some water. When your re-entered the room your baby was fast asleep. You curled up beside and kissed his forehead. When he would wake later in the evening or in the morning, you’d have something made for him to eat and help him into the shower.

#stiles stilinski #stuart twombly #stuart twombly x reader #stuart twombly imagine #dom reader #fanfiction #smut #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski imagine #stiles stilinski smut #stuart twombly smut #dylan o'brien #dylan o’brien smut

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sparkleofpizza · 5 years ago

Text

Stolen glances - Damian Wayne x reader

A/n: hey, so this is the first time I’m ever posting an imagine so I’m kind of nervous, and also English isn’t my native language so I’m sorry if there’s anything wrong, feel free to message me if so. Also if you want to request something, feel free

Requested: no

Warnings: mentions of violence

Summary: All of the times Damian saw the reader and how he felt every time he did.

Word count: 1.736

The first time Damian saw you, you were sitting on your desk, sipping something out of a straw and taking some notes with a pink pen. He stood there for a while, taking in your features. How your h/c framed your delicate face, plump lips slightly pouted and your focused e/c eyes. You looked so young and he wondered what you were doing at Wayne Enterprises. Perhaps you were some of the work’s daughter and were just studying while waiting for them? He never saw you there.

You glanced up, only in time to see someone walk really fast past you. Leaving you confused.

The second time Damian saw you, you were near the coffee machine on the 8th floor, talking to his brother. You were trying to convince Tim how he should try drinking more iced coffee, stating it would be a bit healthier, decreasing his amount of caffeine, just a tiny bit.

He briefly walked past the two of you, not stopping to acknowledge his older brother. But he did indeed walked a bit slower just to hear the sound that just erupted out of your mouth.

“I promise you I’m not trying to trick you into quit drinking coffee.” You giggled, taking a sip of your mug

The third time Damian saw you, you were walking down the hall, trying to reach the elevator while carrying your notebook, your bag, a bottle of water and lots of case files. He watched you struggle and normally he would just casually watch and laugh quietly when the person eventually dropped off all of their belongings on the floor, but when he saw you stumble, he was by your side, helping you keep your stuff from hitting the ground, in a flash. Even him was a bit surprised.

You looked up at him trough your lashes, blowing a hair strand out of your face. Your cheeks grew red from embarrassment as you tried your best to smile at the boy in front of you.

“Oh God.” You muttered “Thank you!”

“Here, let me help you carry these.” He pulled the cases and notebook out of your hand “Where you’re heading to?”

“Home. I mean, I’m going home so heading to the lobby so I can call an Uber.”

You cursed yourself mentally for rambling. You were making a fool of yourself in front of such a cute boy.

He stared at you with bright blue eyes, nicely styled dark hair, defined jawline. He held a small smile to his lips, watching you so flustered. You looked cute in his eyes.

“I will accompany you to the lobby then.” He said, pressing the elevator button “I’m Damian by the way.”

Putting a face to the name you so often heard come out of Tim’s mouth made you a bit more flushed than before.

“I’m Y/N.” You smiled at him

The fourth time Damian saw you, you were eating lunch on your own. You were typing something on your phone when he approached you, not really knowing what to do. Was it ok for him to have lunch with you? Although he had already eaten, he felt like making you some company.

After you two properly met last week, he took it upon him to find out more about you. He wanted to know what was there about you that made him so desperately want to be close to you. Were you some kind of metahuman that made people attracted to you? He only found out your birth, a few months younger than him, that you were from Central City, were majoring in Journalism and worked at the Communication department from the Wayne Enterprises.

“Hello.” He spoke, startling you “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s ok.” You smiled at him “Why don’t you join me?” You said motioning to the chair in front of you

The thirty-seventh time Damian saw you, he almost didn’t recognize you. It was dark outside and you were speed walking down the street. Your face was tear stained and he could see some tears running down freely. You hugged your body tightly, glancing over your shoulder and you heard their voices again.

Damian stood at a nearby rooftop, dressed in his Robin suite, trying to understand what was going on. You looked so distressed, so unlike the person he grew to know and to have a sweet spot in his cold demeanor. But than he heard it, and it all became way too clear to him, as clear as his range could possibly let it.

“You think some pepper spray and a kick on the stomach is going to help you get rid of us, hot stuff?” A man spoke, getting closer to you

“I like the feisty ones better.” Another one completed “And I would like for you to answer when asked a question.” He yanked your arm, making a shrink leave your lips

Damian dropped out of the rooftop, yanking the man away from you and with a swift move he was down on the floor. The other man tried a few punches, but Robin quickly avoided all of them, twisting the man’s arm and punching him on the face real hard until he was knocked out.

He turned around to see you sitting on the floor, shaking as you took deep breaths, trying to process everything that had jus happened. He took a few steps closer to you, and you looked up at him, eyes so wide and so full of fear he had to hold back from wrapping you up in his arms, stroke your hair and say it was ok because he would never ever let anyone hurt you ever again.

The fortieth time Damian saw you, he felt something in his heart he couldn’t point what it was. You were wearing a black skirt with a few buttons, a Arctic Monkeys shirt tucked in, black Vans. You hair was shiny and your mouth looked even more plumper, or was it his imagination? In his eyes you looked astonishing, breathtaking even. He watched you talk to some of your friends, a big smile plastered on your face, making you look even prettier. He stood still staring, his heart besting faster than ever had, and he had this urgent feeling of wanting to see you like this everyday, so happy.

“Father.” He said slowly, still not taking his eyes off of you “What is this weird feeling? My heart is beating too fast and my belly is like there is... something cold inside of it?”

Bruce turned around to look at his son, confused of what he was talking about, but then he followed his eyesight, catching the glimpse of you. Of course, his son was staring at his only friend on the real world. He smiled fondly once he realized what this is all about.

“Sounds like someone has a crush on Y/N.” Tim teased, standing beside his younger brother

Damian turned around too shocked to say something. He turned around to his father who only nodded his head.

A crush? He’s never had a crush before because this wasn’t supposed to happen. He was supposed to be alone for all eternity. He was a former assassin, the Demon’s grandson. One day he would follow into his father’s footsteps and become Batman. There was no space in his life to have a crush on someone. What if you got hurt because of him? Just the thought alone made shivers run down his spine.

“I can’t have a crush on her. She’s too good for me.” Was all he said before leaving

The forty-first time Damian saw you was the first time he was seeing you after coming on terms with his feelings. You were only wearing a sport bra and some yoga pants, he eyed your body up and down, snapping it back to your face once he heard you giggle.

“Hi Dami.” You kneeled down to pet his dog’s head “Hi Titus, how are you my babyboy?”

The dog barked happily at the treat and Damian’s heart was doing backflips inside his ribcage. Watching you being your sweet, adorable self. It was impossible to not find it lovingly.

“Hi, Y/NN.” He smiled at you, holding out a hand to help you up again “What are you doing?”

“Just jogging, need to burn those burgers we at lunch yesterday.”

He nodded, blurting it out before he could even think about it. Maybe it was the way your eyes were shining in the sun, or the way you were smiling at him, but at that moment he knew he was sure of something. “Do you want to go out on a date with me tonight?”

The boy’s eyes went wide once he realized he had said it out loud. Now it was real, and he was sure you were going to shut him down. Laugh at him in his face, you were just too pretty, too sweet, too nice and too cute for him.

“I would love to.” You smiled “Pick me up at 7?”

The sixty-eighth time Damian saw you, you were standing in front of him, in between his legs. He was sat on his bed in the manor, eyeing you carefully as you held his face in your hands, caressing his cheek lovely. Your eyes were watery as your hands went down to caress his chest, tracing a big bruise that was forming. Your lips quivered down and he was quick to sneak his arms around your waist, pulling you in a hug, resting his head on your chest.

“Oh Dami, you could’ve... You could’ve been seriously injured and it’s all because of me.” You whispered, too scared to say it louder

“Please don’t blame yourself, beloved.” He soothed you, pulling you onto his lap so your head was resting against the crock of his neck as he stoked your hair “I will always, always, protect you, no matter what.”

He wiped away your tears, kissing your cheeks tenderly. He hated to see you cry, specially if it was because of him.

You looked up at him. Pulling his face in your hands once more, leaning in until your lips touched in a loving kiss.

“You are the best that has ever happened to me.” You said against his lips

Damian smiled. Maybe he wasn’t doomed to live a life alone, after all.

#damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x y/n #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne x you #batboys #robin #tim drake #batman

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parkeraul · 6 years ago

Photo

spill your guts or fill your guts

a/n: anon suggested me but for a reason i couldn’t load this gif on the post, so it’s gonna be here lol. as the hoe that i am for james corden and this very specific part of the program, i’m unable to say no. warnings: disgusting things, cursing.

“Okay, Shawn-Shawn-Shawnie-Boy,” James calls Shawn, spinning the table filled with all the stuff he likes to call “delicacy”. She’s sitting in front of him, James standing in the middle between them both and, so far, the questions were not that hard to answer (they were but the foods and the smell of them made they both gulp and think twice). “I’m gonna give you...” The host is prolonging the tension, making Shawn turn his face away and look at the crowd, awkward smile showing up. It doesn’t matter what he’s gonna pick, Shawn might probably answer whatever it is so he won’t have to swallow down a bird’s saliva or a thousand-year-old egg — and let’s not get started on the cow’s tongue and fish eye. She’s biting on her lip, nervous for him because it’s not like she can’t suffer along with him, she’s the one who kisses his lips (maybe not for the next couple of weeks, though.) The table stops and James takes his hands off the wood, “I’m gonna give you the bull’s penis.”

Shawn sighs, putting both elbows on top of the table and facepalming with both hands, still not ready to face the weird thing standing below his face. He’s holding his breath, covering his eyes and pressing his palms even harder against his cheeks, blocking every single way so maybe the food will take the hint, create some legs and walk away. His desperation makes him consider that this idea can actually happen if he asks with all his heart. The audience is clapping and screaming like crazy, making James smile devilishly and feel internally proud of his choice. Y/N, on the other hand, waits for the noises to shut down so she can let go of her lip and breathe before saying. “You know you’re consequently dragging me down with him, right?” She points to her husband, who hasn’t moved a inch yet. “Of course!” James says, chuckling. “But after some rub-rub of tongues the taste will go out, I promise you.” She pokes her tongue out just to the thought of tasting it on Shawn’s mouth. She’d probably make him brush his teeth for the next several hours and drink all the vodka in the world to burn the flavour somehow. “There’s no fuckin’ way I’m eating this,” Shawn tilts his head up to stare at James, who’s getting a card and tapping if twice against the table. “I don’t care what you have in there, I’m not gonna put this thing in my mouth.” “Well, Shawn,” James starts, reading the question all over again and struggling to hold back the giggles. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” His shoulders are shrugging repeatedly from the laughing and he starts whimpering, bringing the crowd to giggle with him and at Shawn’s discomfort. “Okay,” He breathes in, laughs fading out and everyone goes silent to hear the question. Every muscle on Shawn’s body starts tensing for dear life — he doesn’t give a shit, he’ll answer whatever he needs to answer: about his career, his childhood, his secrets, the times he didn’t feel good on stage, the place he loved playing at the most... Anything that can free him from eating a bull’s penis. “Shawn Mendes...” “James Corden.” Shawn answers, legs shaking uncontrollably under the table. “You and Y/N have two lovely children, that I even met sometime ago...” James says after laughing at his instant reply, highlighting his name like it’s the most normal thing to answer after someone calls your name. “Yeah, we do...” The audience yells again and clap their hands, Shawn and Y/N smiling proudly although his heart is sinking, wondering what the hell does their children have to do with this clownery. “And you say you can’t ever favourite one of them, correct?” “I could never.” At this moment, Shawn’s heart starts beating more calmly, thinking of his babyboy and babygirl at home with Karen, probably asleep one on top of the other with the blankets they carry around the house. “But,” Corden calls out, raising his index finger in the air. “Which one of them did you have the most fun conceiving?” And as if this question alone wasn’t enough, he completes: “And where did it happen?” Both Shawn and Y/N’s mouths fall open and they’re silently hoping the kids are sleeping or playing somewhere far far away from the TV. They aren’t older than 10 years old but they’re also not stupid — and oh God they’d hear lots and lots of questions back home, as tortuous as the questions they’ve been answering during the show. “That’s fucked up, man,” Shawn takes a sip of water, wishing this sip could last forever so his mouth would be filled with something actually decent and he’d be unable to answer. “That’s... Shit!” He hisses the last word, placing his glass back to where it was before. “I... Lemme think.” “What?” She nearly screams, looking at her husband totally shocked. “Are you actually thinking of answering this question?” The people are laughing hard along with James, having the time of their lives and for a second no one — I repeat, no one, Shawn included — can imagine what his decision is gonna be and he wishes he was just joking to build up extra expectations, but the memories are rushing back inside his mind and they’re too delightful — if he’s honest — but ugh there’s fucking bull’s penis sliced in front of him and ugh his children are involved and ugh people would probably tweet about this until the end of his days. “I mean... I think I remember when Raul was—“ “Oh my God, he’s answering!” James can’t believe his ears, he thinks he’s hallucinating or whatever. “Lord Jesus Christ, Shawn,” She thinks she’s never been this religious before, not only mentioning but praying to all the names she knows that her husband is only playing around. “Do you still wanna be married after this?” James throws his head back and Shawn, who was starting to gesture his hands in the air, looks at her and laughs nervously. Little Raul was the first one and, although he wasn’t exactly planned, it was a nice story to be told. It happened 5 years ago but it was one of the best unexpected things that’s ever happened to him — in all possible meanings — and he finds himself reliving the moment here and there. “Don’t you remember, honey?” Shawn asks her, like they’re at home without five or six cameras pointed at them while they’re live for the whole world to see. He lifts his hands up so he can draw the moment better. “Like, we were at—” “Shut up?!” She kind of asks too, sounding extremely squeaky as she feels her heart missing the beats and the wedding ring on her finger getting cold along with her fingers. She thinks she might faint at any time if he doesn’t stop joking around right now. “Will you shut up, please?!” “This is so good!” They hear from James who’s nearly crying his eyes off from how much he’s been laughing at the situation, barely okay to speak like a regular person. “Babe, it’s bull’s penis,” Shawn emphasizes, widening his eyes and grabbing the little bowl and moving it next to her. She pulls her hair back and smells, quickly getting back to stay away from that horrible thing. “It’s simple: we’ll just never tell Raul about this or... Let him watch this interview.” “So Raul was the best?” James asks, his big smile swelling his cheeks up and almost hidding his blue curious eyes. Shawn goes speechless, smelling the food and putting the bowl back to its place. Fuck, it’s really disgusting. He looks at it and imagines that the texture is probably awful, and the taste has to be even worse. Knowing little Raul and concluding that he might only grow up smarter than he already is, Shawn rubs his whole face before placing both hands down on the table, tilting his head when he thinks about the other situation. “Well... Now that you asked I might say that Isabella was also very very fun to—” “No way!” Corden comes out very loud and everyone laughs, some people covering their mouths just like Y/N is doing right now. Yeah, no way. “I can’t believe this is happening...” She mutters to herself but audible enough for the mic to capture, making the crowd go wilder with her reactions as she looks down with her hand doing its best to support her forehead leaned against it so heavily. “What?” Shawn opens his arms like he’s questioning a normal thing. “She’s going to be so mad at me if I don’t bring her up! You know she’s jealous.” “I’m gonna be mad at you if you bring her or Raul up,” She says through gritted teeth, only facing him to point a finger towards his chest like she’s promising to bury a knife deep down his chest at home if he keeps on rambling. “Eat your penis.” She says and Shawn knows she’s not asking, covering his lap with the napkin they’ve offered. She’s coming off dramatically to increase the fun, but a huge part of her is being dead serious. Lord knows what the kids would say and how much they’d be teased in school. They can’t take the risk, that’s not even an option. There’s a moment of silence when Shawn rearranges himself on his chair, gulping harshly as his hand threatens to go inside that bowl, moving back and forth repetitively. In a lack of sanity, with a grimace taking over his whole face — hard enough to the skin under his hairline move so strongly that some curls fall from their place — Shawn takes three pieces between his fingers and shut his eyes close, shoving the food inside his mouth and chewing sloppily while he reaches the bucket on the floor, covering his whole face with it and spitting the food as fast as possible. “Who-hoa!” James says, laughing weakly to let his words out. “That’s Shawn Mendes, everyone!” People go back to clapping, screaming and whistling and Shawn practically swallows down his water in two large gulps. “Thank God.” She says under her breath, relaxing in her seat. “Is the marriage still up?” Eyeing her, Shawn asks raising an eyebrow and his grin is undeniably cute as his sweet puppy eyes study all her face, waiting for her response while he run his fingers through his curly hair. “It is.” “Then kiss me.” “Na-ah!”

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes imagines #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfics #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes blurbs #shawn mendes masterlist #mine #ficsofmine #the blurb saga**

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spideythot · 5 years ago

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Can I request another Nøkken fic? Maybe like Officer Rogers or Officer Barnes are searching for Peter since MJ and Ned told them they lost him in the woods. And one of them finds Tony in the middle of the lake and he of the looked over to him before Tony gets him under water just like he did with Peter. ? ❤💙

So I changed the prompt a little bit, but it does feature Steve and there will be a part two with Bucky!

Since this is fiction I’m taking liberties with mythology again! Also the second part will have more sex, but here’s a small snippet!

Thank you to both @babyboy-peterparker and @arachnioxide for the inspiration ❤️💙❤️

Peter is turning into a Huldra/Skogsrå and two detectives ultimately pay the price for finding him.

Peter x Tony x Steve, slightly nff. Part 1 here

———

Peter’s changing. He’s only noticed it recently, after he caught his reflection in the lake one morning. There’s a hole developing on his back. He can feel it and touch it, reach into it. It feels like tree bark, and he should probably be worried... but he isn’t. Tony hasn’t said anything about it, so it’s probably normal. He’s probably had it his whole life.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been in the woods, living with Tony in the cave under the lake. Eventually Tony showed Peter a way in and out of the cave that led to land. So he spends his days wandering in the woods now. Peter never ventures too far from Tony - he can’t bare the thought of being alone in the forest again. Peter’s not sure was Tony does when he’s not playing his violin in the lake or the river that feeds the lake. But it doesn’t matter - Tony takes care of him, loves him, so he doesn’t ask.

Peter’s noticed his eyes glow too, like Tony’s, he can see better in the dark, though he never stays out past sunset anyway. He strolls through the woods mostly naked now too, unbothered by the weather and flora. Peter tries to cover what’s below his waist, something in him telling him to stay modest.

He was skipping through the woods in the early morning, collecting little wild flowers and berries, when he saw a man walking his way. Peter ducked behind a tree quickly to avoid being seen. He watched the man from afar. Tall, well-built, and blonde. He was dressed in dark blue, with shiny silver baubles and buttons. He was talking into a little black box.

“Buck! Bucky!” He said, “Come in, dammit!”

He sighed and started to move back the opposite direction. Peter followed him, attempting to stay hidden. Suddenly the man turned toward him and shouted, “Hey!”

Peter gasped and turned tail to run. He could hear the stranger stomping behind him and calling. “Wait! Kid! Stop!” He cried, “Peter!”

Peter paused and hid himself behind a tree. The man stopped too. He panted briefly. “That’s your name, isn’t it?” He said, managing to catch his breath.

Peter peeked at the man from behind the tree. “Peter Parker, right?”

Peter frowned at him. That name... he had heard it before. But was it his? He couldn’t remember. Tony sometimes called him Peter, but he usually used pet names. He hid behind the tree again and clutched at his head. He could remember faceless people calling that name - his name? His... friends? A woman - Family? No... he had always been with Tony, right?

“Kid, Peter,” the man was at side now. “It’s okay.”

Peter jumped at the sound of his voice and scooted away on the forest floor. The man held up his hands and shook them. “No, no,” he said, squatting down near Peter. “Its okay! My name is Detective Steve Rogers.” He pulled a small piece of thick paper from his pocket and held it out for the boy.

Peter hesitated, but then took the little card from Steve’s hand. He ran his thumbs over it, reading the words: Avengers Detective Agency, Captain Steve Rogers. He glanced over at Captain Rogers, who smiled softly. Peter returned it and handed the card back.

“I’m glad I found you Peter,” Steve said, putting the little paper back in his pocket, “Your family in New York have been worried.”

Peter frowned and turned his gaze back to the woods. He didn’t know what a New York was, but his family was with Tony.

“Tony’s looking for me?” He wondered out loud.

“Tony?” Steve asked, “Who’s Tony?”

Peter’s eyes met his once more. “I never go too far from the lake,” he said, “Tony says it’s okay as long as I come home before dark.” That’s when it gets dangerous in the woods, but he didn’t tell the detective that.

“You live with someone out here?” Steve asked, his gaze narrowing. It made sense - Peter being held captive by someone. That’s why all the search parties found nothing.

Steve took in the small boy in front of him more closely. Thin, a little dirty from running through the woods in nothing but loose shorts and no shoes. His skin was all marked up, soft purple-red bruises dotting his throat, chest and hips. Whoever this Tony was, he was using Peter as some kind of sexual slave.

“You want to see?” Peter asked him quietly. “Where I live?” That could be exciting, though he wasn’t sure what Tony would do. Maybe he could convince Tony to let him keep this detective man.

Steve nodded. He should investigate, collect evidence, possibly make an arrest. Peter smiled and took Steve’s hand. They both stood, and Steve allowed himself to be walked through the woods with the boy. Peter knew exactly where he was headed, into thicker and thicker forest. Peter led the stranger to the lake, pointing as he saw it. Steve followed the boy’s finger with his gaze but paused when he saw a man standing in the shallows.

Peter gasped at the sight of Tony. He was shocked to see him so close to the shore.

“Peter, darling,” Tony greeted, “I was wondering where you ran off too.”

Peter stepped toward the man, ready to leap into his arms and kiss him silly, but Steve’s hand tightened around his arm.

“You’re Tony,” he said to man standing in the water. “You’ve been keeping Peter here?”

“I’ve been taking care of him,” Tony replied. “Come here, Peter.”

Peter wriggled free from Steve’s grasp and ran to Tony. He didn’t hear Steve shout for him to stop, or the gasp the detective let out when he saw Peter’s back. He whimpered and twisted in Tony’s arm in an attempt to hide it.

“I think you’ve got the wrong boy,” Tony addressed Steve again. He quickly hid Peter behind him. “This one is mine.”

Steve glared at Tony. “He’s coming back to New York with me and my partner.”

Tony growled at him, his eyes flashing red. No one was taking his boy from him. Especially not some human or his “Partner?” He snarled.

Peter made a soft noise from behind the man. Tony tilted his head toward the boy, and Peter seemed to whisper to him. Steve only held his glare, his hand moving toward the stun gun he had on his belt. He had to get Peter away from here. Had to get a closer look at the - injury? - on Peter’s back.

But then Tony’s eyes softened as he returned his gaze to Steve. He stepped aside and revealed Peter to the detective again. “You want this boy so badly, come and take him.”

Peter stood the in water, staring curiously at Steve. He hesitated, eyes darting between Tony and the boy he had to save. Peter gave Steve a soft smile and turned toward Tony slightly. The man had a violin in his hands - from where, Steve hadn’t noticed - and he was walking deeper into the water.

“Peter,” Steve pleaded, “Come with me. Don’t be scared, you don’t belong here.”

Peter shook his head. “N-no, I want to stay,” he replied. “Tony loves me, he takes care of me. Out there - people will hurt me.”

“Peter, that’s not true,” Steve argued, “Tony is the one who’s -“ He paused, hearing music floating through the air. A soft, lonely melody. His head snapped toward Tony, the man playing his violin in the water. The music filled his head, filling his thoughts like a lullaby. Peter sighed happily, drawing Steve’s attention back to him.

He had missed how beautiful the boy truly was - with his big, brown eyes and soft, rounded cheeks, and pink, bow lips. His lithe little body swayed to the music. Steve watched Peter’s tongue dart out to wet said lips.The boy batted his eyes at the detective.

“Tony’s my master,” the boy said softly. He beckoned to Steve and the man trudged into the lake without hesitation. “He makes me feel so good.”

Peter touched Steve’s shoulders, fingers tugging at the fabric of his uniform. “He can make you feel good too,” Peter said, as Steve leaned down. His eyes widened, seeing Peter’s lips part. He shouldn’t - this poor kid had been through enough - but the haunting melody grew louder, and swallowed his thoughts again.

Peter pressed his body against Steve’s, fitting perfectly in his arms. He was warm, despite the cool water they stood in, and just a soft as Steve had imagined. Steve could feel Peter’s cock grinding against his leg. The boy was naked now, his shorts sinking in the water below them. Peter’s small hand cupped his own hardening length, groping through his slacks. “Kiss me,” the boy begged.

Steve’s reluctance faded, the violin consuming it all, and he obeyed.

#starker #peter x tony #au #nøkken starker #requests #continuation #huldra #mythology #nff

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i-like-my-height · 6 years ago

Text

BTS x Trans Male Scenarios

So i was talking to a friend and we both realised that like there are very few fics about male/transgender/non-binary etc people so... i wanna help by doing my part!

This is when you come out to BTS as being a trans male and how they react.

This is my first scenario thingy so please don't judge too much...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yoongi:

Binding is getting kinda hard now. You hate it. The more you wait, the bigger they become, and the harder they are to hide. But at least it makes you feel better in the end. Finally, you feel like yourself. Yoongi is away for the night, and shouldn't be back for a while. He doesn't know about you being transgender. You don't know why, but even though you two have been dating for over a year, you find the idea of coming out to him intimidating. You finish up with binding, put on some of yoongi's smaller clothes and look in the mirror. Tossing a beanie over your hair, you smile at the person you feel you truely are. "... I'm gonna tell him! I will!"

"Tell me what?" You jump in shock as you hear his smooth voice ring through the room. You spin your head to catch Yoongi's eyes staring at your chest. "... Where did your tits go?" Oh geez. Not like this. You didn't want things to end up this way. But you suppose it's now or never.

"Yoongi.. I'm... I'm not what you think I am... I... I..." You feel your legs tremble and your palms start to sweat "... I'm trans..." Silence. He didn't even move a muscle. What did you do wrong!? Does he hate you!? What do yo-

"Oh. Okay. Want to watch a movie with me?" .... WHAT!? You spend all those hours a day crying over how you'll come out and you get a response like THAT!? Tears flood out of your eyes as you look at him in shock. "... I guess I should say more. Listen, i don't care about your gender or sex or anything like that. You are my beautiful boyfriend, and I love you with all my heart. Although... I'm gonna have to keep a closer eye on all my clothes." He smirks and he places a hand on your cheek and wipes away a tear. "I love you, babyboy..."

"I love you too, Yoongi.."

Namjoon:

"I love weddings!" Namjoon is always so excited. He loves dressing up in nice suits, his hair neat and tidy, his eyes glimmering with happiness. "Listen, babe, I need to run to the shops. You should get dressed." With a kiss on the cheek and a soft smile, he leaves. This is it. This is your chance.

You swing open Namjoon's cupboard and look through. He never cleans out his things due to the fear he would break it: so all of his old and smaller things are still there. Perfect. You grab a black suit, a white shirt and a blue tie that matches Namjoon's. Getting dressed, you feel comfortable. You feel like yourself. You smirk as you look at yourself in the mirror, dressed how YOU want to. No stupid dresses, no dumb high heels, nothing. Just a smart suit, just for you.

Suddenly, you feel arms snake around your waist, a head burrying into your neck from behind "So... When were you gonna tell me?" Shivers run down your spine. Does he know...? He can't, you haven't done anything until now... He smiles "I never knew you were a cross dresser!"

Ouch. "Joonie... that's not quite right.... You see... I-"

"You're trans. Babe, you talk in your sleep. You've confessed to me multiple times." What!? You knew about your sleep talking, but you didn't know about that! "And besides... I kinda like you wearing my suits~ We still have a while, how about we test out what you're like as a guy~" And with that, he sweeps you off your feet, smirking. "I've always wanted to sleep with a guy, anyways~"

Jin:

"Kim Namjoon! Kim Seokjin! Min Yoongi! Jung Hoseok! Park Jimin! Kim Taehyung! Jeon Jungkook! BTS!"

A quiet whistle plays out before the base kicks in and the boys start to move. Your relationship with Jin hasn't been a secret to anyone, especially when he looks off stage at you, singing all of his lovey dovey lines. A blush rises on your cheeks as Jin's lips part to allow his voice to sing his enchanting melody. You loved it when Jin sings to you. It make you feel safe. Warm. Loved.

He looks into your eyes as he walks towards the side of the stage, placing a hand in your palm and pulling you out onto the stage where Jimin has already set up a chair. He sit you down into it, singing the rest of the song softly, occasionally looking away just to please the millions on fans in front of him.

"What a lucky girl..." You hear Hobi mutter under his breath once the song finishes.

Girl.

The sea of lights changing colour and frantically waving side to side as the boys catch a breath fills you with this unknown feelings. Now. You want tell them now.

"BOY! LUCKY BOY! I'M A MAN! MALE! TRANS!" The well rehearsed lines you practiced day in and day out fly out of your head with a mess of words that only some can make out.

"You're... trans...?" Jin freezes. He looks at the boys around him. "... Only one thing will need to change." He smirks, walking over to the chair and dropping to one knee. The 6 other boys hold up big signs.

"Will"

"You"

"Y/N"

"L/N"

"Marry"

"Me"

"... It would mean the world if you said yes and became my husband"

Jimin:

".... Bunny? Can we try something out?" His voice is quiet, unlike himself usually. He's usually quite dominate, full of power. But now, he's small, cute, like a little kitten.

"What is it?" You tilt your head in curiosity, eger to hear what he means.

"Well... when we're usually... busy... i put on this kinda, act. I pretend to be this big strong man, but really... i'm not. So... is there anyway YOU can pretend to be that man...? Y-you can do whatever, really, i just... kinda wanna change things up a little"

.... Is this a dream? Your boyfriend, the person who you love more than anything, has asked you to be more of a man in bed. This is too perfect! You've always wanted to drop this feminine submissive act and be who you really were. You knew Jimin liked guys, but you didn't realise how much until it happened. And IT was great. You had complete control.

"... You're a natrual... Like you're an actual guy!"

"... Well i am, kitten~" You smirk. This spike of dominance gave you the courage to just... say it!

"... what...?" He looks at you, weak and confused. You can see the gears turning in his head until he hits a lightbulb. "... are you trans?" You nod softly, a small smile forming at the corner of your mouth. He grins "Can we do this more!? I love this! I'll even pay for surgery for you! I'll support you through everything!"

"I'll take that as an I love you"

"Oh right... I love you, Bunny."

"I love you too, kitten..."

Jungkook:

"Babe? My makeup artist is sick, and i need to do my own makeup for the shoot today. Can i practise on you today?" His eyes glistened in the mirror lights, brushes scattered all over the table. You were never a fan of makeup because it always made you look too female for your liking. But you can never say no to those puppydog eyes.

"As long as i can wear it to my party. We don't have much time to take it off"

"Of course babe!" Almost instantly, makeup is splashed all over your face. He turns you around so he can work slightly better. He's very light with the brushwork, clearly not doing anything extreme.

By the end of it, his legs and arms are covered in powder and cream. He was never tidy when doing anything... before you can turn around to see yourself in the mirror, he grabs you and forces you to wear a sports bra. At least, that's what you thought it was. The bra seemed to be quite tight, and made your chest almost completely disappear. Was... was it a binder?

He shoves a suit onto you and messes up your hair a little. He pulls you out the room and into the bedroom where a messive full body mirror stood, proudly displaying the cutest gay couple you had ever seen.

Wait. Gay...

The makeup. It made you look more masculine, defining a more sharp jawline. The binder completely blocked out your chest and the suit cancelled out your curves. You smile. "I look like a guy."

"Yeah... A cute one too." He takes your hand. "... You know... I love you. No matter if you were a boy or a girl." That's when it hits you. Kookie knew. Jeon Jungkook, that sly son of a bitch, knew this whole time. And he planned this.

"I need to go get dressed. But sit tight. I want to introduce everyone to my handsome boyfriend"

Hoseok:

"... What are these?" Hobi picks up a small bottle of pills from inside your bag. The pills in the bottle rattle about like the fears inside your body clawing away. He tilts his head as he reads the label on the side "Testosterone...? Babe, why do you need that?" Your brain warps and shifts words in your head in a desperate attempt to explain the hormones in your bag.

"I.. uh... You love me, right?" He nods, a soft smile glows on his face. What a ray of sunshine.... "... I'm transgender. I've only just started hormone therapy. I wanted to tell you, but I was too scared you would reject me..."

Instantly, arms fling around you, his grip tight as he mutters sweet nothings under his breath about how you're perfect and he loves you no matter what. He springs back and places the tablets in your hands.

"Here! Take them! Do you need a binder? I'll get you that too! We can go shopping to get you more clothes!" You try to explain that you don't mind and that he doesn't need to pay for everything, but the rays of sunlight coming off of his bright smile paralise your option to say no. You can't help it. He is always so willing to help, even though half the time he has no idea what he's doing and why it helps. He just wants you to be happy.

"I promise you, I'll help you be the best man alive!"

Taehyung:

The internet is an open door to all sorts of knowledge about the LGBT+ community. From "how to bind" to "How to get a 3D beard," Transgender people have many more chances to express themselves a lot easier than ever before. However, the problem lies when you forget to clear your history and your boyfriend wants to learn "How to get a 3D printer." The things he looks up sometimes...

You start to wonder why Tae has been on the laptop for so long, a constant look of confusion plastered on his adorbale face. "What's wrong, Teddybear?" He looks up and smiles.

"How many genders are there? What about Gender-non-conforming? Or non-bina-" You place your finger on Tae's lips, hushing him.

"These are all complicated for someone who is just learning about things outside male and female. Let's start with Trans. I'm Trans. I was born a female, but I identify as Male and I know that I am actually male." You smile, confident in how you came out. "That makes me your boyfriend!"

His expression stays the same but slowly his mouth growns into a grin. He tackles you in a massive hug.

"I AM SO PROUD OF YOU! Teddy bear will make dinner tonight. You just sit tight and be a cute ass man."

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emmelfish · 7 years ago

Text

‘After woohoo, I like to celebrate with a long hike to ponder the fact that my wife being pregnant means it’ll be a while before we can have more babies.’

Pfft, keep dreaming John. Like that want about playing for tips, nice try – you have zero creativity points. Stick to wanting to praise Tabby, becoming besties with Lucy, and befriending Darren. Also if it’s so hot maybe you should take off your outerwear when you get inside?

FACK

John: What’s the best thing about gardening? Getting down and dirty with your hoes!

Jen: These interactions ALWAYS result in one of us walking away with minus points, why would you think this one would be any different? Anyway, come look at this, you’ll like this.

Jen: LOOK! He’s watching sports on TV like he’s people!

John: Oh that’s adorable! Hey speaking of sports, how is woohoo like a game of bridge?

Jen: *screams internally*

Finally, Jen gets to hang out with some intelligent lifeforms.

Jen: Alright. ‘Examine the lives of the best and the most fruitful sim and sims and ask yourself whether a tree which is supposed to grow to a proud height could do without bad weather and storms: whether misfortune and external resistance, whether any kinds of hatred, jealousy, stubbornness, mistrust, hardness, greed and violence do not belong to the favorable conditions without which any great growth even of virtue is scarcely possible?’

Tabby: Screw this.

Jen: ‘The poison from which the weaker nature perishes strengthens the strong sim – and he does not call it poison.’

John: My wife! I am so proud of you for reading to our child and furchildren and yet-to-be-born children AND getting a golden ticket to My Muse from the spiky-haired man because of your musical talent.

(Hey it’s Justin Kim again! Wonder if he’s come searching for his Hot Tub Time Machine mom.)

Justin: I’m a child and even I know that if you jump on her like that it’s not good for your yet-to-be-born children.

Pop

Jen: The hell is this?

John: You said you wanted new clothes.

Jen: But blue is so not my color.

John: But darling, now you match my shorts! 🎵Off to tend to my peppers I shall go...

Glitches

John: 🎵 With a broken arm, yes oh-ee-oh

Another day, another dollar simoleon...

Jen: TUCKER II! You lucrative little furball, thank you so much for pulling your weight while Mommy is carrying so much of it and thus can’t work herself, all thanks to that great big tit I’m married to.

John: What’s that?

Jen: I said is that the Greater Blue-Tit you’ve spotted there dear?

John: I think it is!

Jen: YAY I am so proud of you!

John: Me too!

John: Unff

I’m sorry, I can’t suspend my disbelief with this game any longer because Lucy IS the classmate that saw the rated R movie, and would be the one describing boobies and butts and bloody violence to the innocent child this chance card was actually meant for. So I picked Ignore, because a) no, and b) chance cards are bullshit, they have a 99.999999999999% chance of undoing all your good work in any scenario.

Oh looky who it is! Everyone’s favorite Desiderata resident. And, three nanoseconds of a chat with Jen results in Jen’s crumpled face of confusion and Natasha’s hatred thought bubble. Shame, really.

I’ve noticed the community tends to call her Nat, but all the Natashas I’ve known in my life (all two of them) go for Tash or Tasha. I’m torn. I’ll tell you what I’m NOT torn on. Her exquisite grilled cheese dress by the exquisite @strangetomato, amirite? 🧀

GO TABS!

Good: Tabby promoted Good: Smart investing Bad: Justin falling out with Lucy, probably because he was the kid the chance card was meant for and she was traumatizing him with talk of blood and boobies. I’m not gonna lose sleep over it, he’s all the way out in Viper Canyon so it wasn’t like they were gonna be besties in childhood. Maybe at college or something.

This family, I swear. They’re like the sim embodiment of Bender’s ‘impression of life at big Bri’s house’ in The Breakfast Club.

youtube

That’s if, uh, Bri’s parents constantly make sexually-charged advances toward one another.

Meanwhile, dat text doe! Brandi Broke Hair Hour is upon us.

Jen: Sweetie I’ve found myself wearing something I wouldn’t choose even if it were the last garment on the planet and I’m scared.

Lucy: It’s okay Mom, if I’ve lost all respect for you it’s primarily because I’m on the precipice of puberty and that’s what’s supposed to happen.

John: The heck is this? I’m the Family sim here. You can’t have it both ways.

John: THAT’S more like it. Hai little bestie!

Lucy: Hai Dad! Why are all these people in our house?

John: Oh, well Brandi Broke was on a walkby so I wanted to paint a picture of what your hair will look like tomorrow so that you’re prepared. And I got one of those annoying messages about whether I’d been abducted by aliens from Darren even though I spoke to him yesterday, so I felt guilty.

Meanwhile, Jennifer stares longingly at her guitar and gets all introspective about this five-minute lack of romance in her life, exacerbated by Brandi heartfarting at Darren. That Family/Knowledge attraction, it never fails. And yet, somehow I can’t see Dustin and Dirk as stepbrothers, but we need to find Brandi someone soon as she needs to up her brood to six for that stupid LTW about marrying off multiple kids. WHAT IF UNBORN BABYBROKE ISN’T THE MARRYING KIND, Brandi, ever think of that?!

(Makes mental note to create drahmz by making Unborn Babybroke a Romance sim who constantly disappoints its mother)

Jen: Oh that DOES it. You lot might be able to sit around waiting for these babies to fall out of me but I have to DO something.

Brandi you utter utter terrible stupid moron you are PENNILESS WHY are you tipping Jen all those simoleons 😱

Lucy meanwhile stares at her father and tries to picture Brandi’s hair on his face in a vain attempt to glimpse into her near future.

And yet... are these two meant to be though? The synchronized terrible dancing and constant thoughts of one another may be a sign. That said, Dina Caliente does that with Darren too and, much as I love Darren and Dina as individuals, the thought of that is so godawfully wrong that I always have to direct sims to speak with each of them separately in an attempt to stop them autonomously eating one another’s faces whenever they always show up in the same GD welcome wagon. #StopDinarren #SaveTheDreamers #ACRYouMonster

Lucy manages to alienate yet another boy from districts afar (like does her schoolbus refuel in Viper Canyon or something?) by saying things about art or theater that offend Gallagher Newson so deeply, he launches a tirade of vitriolic mansplaining at her while she checks her nails, unfazed. Atta girl.

Brandi: I wish we could all get along like we used to in middle school... I wish I could bake a cake filled with rainbows and smiles and everyone would eat and be happy...

Best not look outside then Bran.

Tabby: Huh? Yeah? You want some o’ this? Come at me bro!

Tabby: Oh you think I can’t take you? Think again assclown, I’m a stunt double now, I eat fear FOR BREAKFAST.

And so the thrill ride begins. Lucy’s face is that unique mixture of anxiety and resignation that plainly says, ‘Well, my reign is at an end. It’s been real, friends.’

I love Tucker II, but the fact that he chooses THIS moment to act out for the first time in his life and start destroying the furniture is far from cool. Clearly he too is worried about upcoming changes in the pack hierarchy.

Stone cold Tabs meanwhile favors staying outside in the rain and having no part in any of this.

Tabby: 🎵 Hello darkness my old friend...

Urgh

IS NOOBOO TIME!

Spoiler alert: this nooboo actually ends up with blue eyes because I quit without saving to roll the pacifier a couple times, which is sad because neither nooboo has black hair now. But we’ll survive. Somehow. I just liked this snap.

When both your dog and your seconds-old nooboo are thinking about Brandi, it’s probably time for her to leave the house. But she won’t, because she’s a Family sim who subscribes to the stereotype of only caring about other people’s children. And pets.

3 days off? Pahaha. I don’t even have any hacks installed to share parental leave (I really should), and Jen was somehow still back at work the next day.

Poor Babygirl Burb (not her permanent name) isn’t getting a great start in life considering everybody’s just yelling about Babyboy Burb and not even acknowledging her. Well, except Jen, who hasn’t yet put her down. See that, Family sims?! That’s how to do it.

Case in point.

Brandi: Congrats!

John: Oh yeah, the nooboos? Great aren’t they. I’m sure I dropped The Boy around here somewhere.

The Boy: And my suffering beginneth...

John: The Boy! Ah, The Boy. There you are. The Boy.

(If you can’t already tell, John will be saying ‘The Boy’ in the same relieved and happy voice as the dad from 8 Simple Rules for the rest of his natural life, primarily because both of his daughters are genetically engineered to make his hair grey.)

Hey Brandi, ever feel like you’re intruding on an intimate family moment?

Brandi: Nup!

Lucy: I just can’t picture it ON me...

Brandi: Kid, what is it with you and my hair?

John: I’VE LOST THE BOY AGAIN

Lucy: Haha, my parents can be so incompetent sometimes.

Lucy: Actually... where are my parents?

Well Lucy, get ready to upscale that judgment of incompetence because...

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME. John’s face. John’s face right there. Is the most smackable face I’ve ever seen.

Not only did Jennifer Burb give birth TO TWINS less than five minutes ago...

... but they unceremoniously dumped both twins in the Bouncinators, and they’re now screaming.

To which, their creators remain oblivious. There are some pretty terrible parents out there in the Sims universe BUT THESE TWO ARE HOT ON THEIR HEELS right now.

Hey, while these poor minutes-old creatures are stuck screaming in their Bouncinators while John presumably tries to create more problems for the family with his testicles, why don’t we meet them?

This is not at all named solely to give Alexander Goth a younger wife one day Cecilia! You can’t see them here because they’re squeezed shut in agony and anguish, but her eyes are deep blue, presumably from her grandfather Jeff Pleasant. Perhaps upon looking at her, her uncle Daniel will be overcome with the guilt referenced in his bio and try to send her to Mars.

And here’s Patrick! With his skintone plus the brown eyes and brown hair, he’s probably destined to be a John / Lucy clone, but we shall see. Let’s get one thing straight though (or should I say curly), when these anklebiters transition they are both leaping right into Jennifer Burb tousled waves territory.

Lucy: WHAT DO I DO

Don’t worry Lucy, we’ll pause this one here as it’s already been far too long a round and no doubt everyone involved is tired as hell.

Until next time!

#sims2 #pleasantview #john burb #jennifer burb #lucy burb #patrick burb #cecilia burb #brandi broke #darren dreamer #justin kim #gallagher newson #tucker burb #tabby burb #sims 2 premades #maxis premades #emmelfishuberhood #Pleasant Family #Pleasant Household #Tucker II Burb

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cutiepiepotatoes · 8 years ago

Text

Wedding night

Kind of « a lovely meeting » part 2 but can be read independently

Fandom: Vikings

Pairing: Ivarxfem!reader

Warnings: fluffy smut (very explicit), language

Notes: I do not own any characters. Also it is my first smut and I got really inspired by @captainpoopweinersoldier and @cherrytrinkets but also by @lordavanti so I give them credit for some ideas. Please enjoy and feedback is appreciated! <3 I tag @sereniti9 and @shesafreesoul because you liked the part one but I can take it back!

After the wedding ceremony, a feast was prepared in the great hall. Ivar and you were congratulated by everyone as you entered side by side. Even Aslaug smiled at you because, oddly enough, she liked you since she met you and well, it was nice to have her approval. The night was filled with laughs, cups of ale and an enormous amount of food. You chatted with a lot of people, especially Helga and Floki who were amazing to you. During your conversations, you caught Ivar staring at you and winked when your eyes met, which made you smirk and stuck out your tongue at him playfully. He giggled at it a little while Aslaug watched the two of you.

“You two are really cute together. It is odd, and between us a bit scary, to see both of you being playful, but it’s nice” murmured Helga with a small smile.

You blushed and nodded slowly, silently thanking her. Time pass, and finally Aslaug announced that it was time to go home for the guests and only the Ragnarsons and their wives stayed a bit more. Ivar and you sat next to each other and he whispered in your ear “Finally together my love”. You smiled and pecked his warm lips…but you wanted more. You subtly put your hand on his laps and start making your way up, and your hand masses it a bit under the table, just to show him how horny you were and how bad you wanted him. He doesn’t show anything, but when he look at you his eyes betray him. He grins and oh dear, you’re glad to be on a chair or else your knees would have given you up.

“It’s late, I think we all should go to sleep now.” Ivar said while keeping his eyes on you.

“Oh come on brother, just say it, you want to consummate the wedding!” teased Ubbe. Everyone laughed while leaving. Aslaug walked up to you and took your hands in hers,

“I’m glad to have you as my new daughter-in-law. Don’t forget to pray Freya for a child, dear.”

“I will, Queen Aslaug, and thank you, I really like you as my mother-in-law too. Goodnight” you answered honestly.

Ivar and you prayed the Gods, he then took your hand and kissed it tenderly. You traced his lips with your fingertips and they were softer, warmer than you expected.

“Shall we go to our room, my wife?” You loved how the word wife sounded in his mouth.

“We shall, husband”

Once in the room, without any need of encouragement you leaned in and softly kissed his plump lips. His eyes closed as you traced his features and his hands wandered on your back and ass lightly. Suddenly, his eyes snapped open with lust, his big blue eyes darker than ever and he lifted you off your feet quickly to put you on his laps, but you still were careful to not wake up the pain in his legs. You both crawled our way towards the bed without losing contact. Once on the bed, your husband’s body was on top of yours. You squealed as your legs were wrapped around his waist, then giggled while squeezing his muscular shoulders. His mouth made his way on your neck, sucking on your soft spot and making you gasped and whimpered underneath him.

“I want to see your face, little prince” you tried gaining power in a hoarse voice, your breath already uneven. Ivar lifted his head and watched you intensely, staring at your lips, trying not to kiss them and remain more powerful than you, before surrendered and giving in. Everything was slow and soft, but yet magical. It was completely out of character for both of you. You slowly let your fingers twine together while kissing him. Ivar pulled away to gaze at you, a huge smile on your faces. Your hands made their way in his thick hair making him groan a little and leaned down again, with a gentle “I love you” whispered, immediately followed by a strong and intense kiss.

That’s it. That the moment when the fire inside you exploded and the battle for dominance started again.

You wanted to say it back but when you open your mouth, Ivar slipped his tongue and explored the inside. Of course you start sucking it to show your intimidating side but the man wasn’t getting any of it tonight.

“Trust me dove, tonight YOU will the one whimpering and begging underneath me.” His suddenly harsh yet playful tone made you shiver.

“Oh hell no sweetheart, not before a battle”

“You want to fight, woman? Then I’ll bring you war.”

Both of you groaned and started tiring each other’s clothes apart, like animals. Once naked, he grabbed you hard by the arms and held you still under him, while gently biting your shoulder. You felt your entrance dripping wet by now, and his wide smirk told you he noticed it too. You tried to relieve some of the pressure by grinding up at his very hard erection but Ivar pushed you down with his hips.

“Damn, you’re needy for a princess”

“Damn you’re frustrating for a crippled” you answered back with a wolfish grin.

He chuckled and momentarily stopped pushing you. You flipped him over, straddling him and began grinding against him.

“Oh by the gods” he panted, partially angry at himself for letting you manipulate him and dominating him

“I always get what I want, Babyboy” you mused before throwing your head because of the pleasure the friction was giving you. Your moans got louder, your moves frenetic and the first orgasm of the night was growing inside of you. Just as you reached it, Ivar gripped your hips tightly and held you still, the sensation flying away.

“Y/N, if you don’t stop I will cu-fuck, ohh ughh” lightly, you had grabbed roughly his cock and stroke it

“I. Am. In. Charge, Ivar”.

He glared at you and played with your breasts, also roughly.

“Not for long so treasure it, woman” he spat.

Both of you stopped everything at that, just holding each other’s stare, waiting for the other to break it and loose. But the more you stared, the wider the smile on your lips grew, and soon you were grinning like two idiots. You laughed while resting your forehead on his and his kissed your nose, making you cringed by surprise.

“Allow me, princess. Let me do the job and just feel the love, dove. We will both be in charge” Ivar whispered to you, stroking softly your hips. You just nodded, mesmerized by his big blue eyes and the love inside them.

“I did find my…well, soulmate is the word I believe”, you thought aloud and immediately blushed. He, not so surprisingly, did too and kissed you tenderly. His strong hands lifted you up just to put his length in you, both of you groaning loudly. You unconsciously clenched your walls around him

“You tease, woman”

“I can’t help it, I want more of you” and with that you pushed down.

“Then bounce, love”, you did as you were told while he cupped you breasts and kissed your jaw.

Arching your back, you moved faster and went further each time. You were already a panting mess because of the pace of the thrusts as he started sucking your nipple and circling with his finger your clit. The place was filled with your moans, so loud that Ivar’s were almost inaudible. You could feel yourself building up to your climax

“I’m going- ughhhh- I’m going to cu-cum… Oh god Ivar don’t stop, don’t stop!”

He gripped your hips with his free hand and began to rock them harder against him. He then embraced you, holding you

“Cum for me, doll, cum for your husband”. You cried out and shouted his name, praising it as the pleasure burst around you. Not even a second after, you felt him cum inside you as he groaned your name, face buried in your neck.

Trying to recompose and slow down your breathings, neither of you moved for a minute, your bodies forming one, so close to each other. When you opened your eyes again, he smiled and nodded towards the bed for you to lay. You got up, both of you wincing a bit, and crawled with him in under the sheets. Your legs tangled with his, laying your head on his shoulder to be eye-level with him. As he drew patterns on your side with his fingers, you gently hummed a melody and whispered an “I love you” before the sleep started to take you away. You heard Ivar saying it back and kissed your head. Smiling, you got closer to him, feeling his heartbeat next to yours, for the first time being so quickly in love with the perfect husb-

Oh fuck, no way.

He snores.

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