#didn't show up in the tags rip one last time because i'm going to sleep bye

[tayloralison]

TAYLOR SWIFT ♡ Accepting the Best Pop Vocal Album Award for Midnights and announcing a new album The Tortured Poets Department

[xmissrogersx]

“Because it’s pink” | Joel Miller

tags: Post-Outbreak. Fluff. Domesticy.

a note from me: yes, again i inspire myself in gilmore girls. Every time i see Lorelai and Luke is like “i need to write this like is in Jackson right now”

my writing is entirely my own. Any adaptation and/or copy is forbidden.

i hope you are enjoying my stories! U help me a lot if you give me a ♡! All the love.

pris masterlist

-¡Paris! —I woke up with a start and turned my head in shock to see Ellie at the door.

-Hi, hey...

-What are you doing?

-Having a heart attack —I leaned back on my pillow.

-I'm going to be late for the presentation, ¡it's 7:15!

-No, it's 5:45...

-¡Paris, it's 7:15!

-No, Ellie for God's sake, I set the alarm clock to go off... —she took my watch from the bedside table showing me the time.-It's 7:15, I don't understand how it didn't ring, I swear I set it....

-7:16 —she said behind me.

-I had to take some sheets to Maria, I was going to get my clothes ready to go to your presentation and now I have to iron them and...

-7:17...

-You know what, time lady, why don't you go make some coffee and buy some time? —she came down the stairs, while I was trying to find my boots and fix my hair a little.

-Notes, decorating for the stage, looking for music...

-¡7:18! —she shouted from the dining room.

-¡Oh for the love of God! —I finished getting dressed.-It’s the last time i accept something just because it's pink.

Ellie was in the kitchen with what to carry for the recital under her arms. I grabbed my cup of coffee and drank some. I was going to pour it into my little thermos, but it was nowhere to be found.

-Shit, Joel's taking it to work —I remembered, smacking my forehead.-Never mind, I'll ask Maria. Okay, ready? —we ran to the door.

───────────────────────

-It’s done.

Joel along with other Jackson men were finishing building the library.

-Big brother —Tommy exclaimed when he saw him.-I didn't remember you being such an early riser.

-It has to be finished, doesn't it?

-Sure, you must have a very important reason for wanting to finish quickly —laughed the dark-haired man as he saw Joel's familiar scowl.-Really, it's good to see you happy again.

-She loves to read, it's the least I can do.

-Really? From what you showed me you have in your pocket, that's not all you want to do —he smiled, to which the elder Miller sighed.

-What if she really doesn't want to? What if she ends up realizing she missed an opportunity to be with someone her own age?

-Is this the same woman we're talking about? She went up against a bunch of crazies to get you penicillin and save your life. She crossed the country from one end to the other dealing with your sour ass, and yet she looks at you with an adoration I've never seen before.

Joel smiled softly as he remembered how he left this morning and seeing her sleeping peacefully with one of his shirts covering her breasts and torso. He had to restrain himself from waking her up and ripping it off himself.

-What the...?

His brother snapped him out of his trance as he saw the two people who occupied his entire world speeding across the street.

-¡Paris, the violet leaves! —Ellie exclaimed as she watched them slip.

-Shit! —said the blonde to duck, trying to keep the other things she was carrying from slipping.

-She's a little nervous, isn't she?

-Lately a little bit, in the last few days. The other night we were watching a movie and she was a little dizzy, and she said it must have been dinner. I can't stand to see her like that.

-Dizzy? You mean with dizziness and vomiting?

-A little, maybe, why?

Tommy was still shocked that his idiot brother didn't realize what was happening.

-What?

-You need to talk to her, now. Go, I'm still here —he practically pushed him out of there.

───────────────────────

-We're here! I'm really sorry I'm late... —I said, putting my things on the tables.-My alarm didn't go off.

-Everything is under control, since I know you are a perfectionist beforehand and I don't want you to stress yourself, especially at this moment —I stopped in my tracks because of the last thing she said.

-Why did you say that?

Maria turned to me and took my hand.

-Paris, I realized it two weeks ago, but I wanted you to confirm it for me.

I looked at her with tears in my eyes still unable to articulate a single word.

-So, how long exactly?

-I couldn't tell you an exact date...

-Of course, it's true, there's no way you could be in the same room for 5 minutes without jumping on each other —I covered my mouth to contain my astonishment and lightly hit her arm.

-¡Maria!

-Please, girl, next time for the love of the children here, close the blessed bedroom windows.

Our laughter flooded the place, plus my face was about to explode in the full range of red colors. I was thankful Ellie wasn't near us and had heard.

-Darlin'.

-Hi, cowboy —he put his hand on my waist to bring our lips together. Shit, and it had only been 3 hours since we'd seen each other and I was already missing being in his arms.

-Are you okay, don't you feel sick? —he said, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

-Why do you ask? —I saw how he looked at me with fearful eyes. I took his face and looked into his beautiful brown eyes.-Babe, I'm fine, what's wrong?

-The last few days you've been nauseous, and I know it's not your stomach because we both know you and Ellie have it made of iron, baby.

I sighed, pulling the air out of my lungs, releasing some of the pressure I was feeling, as if I needed to finally say the sentence stuck in my chest.

-I'm pregnant.

[elvisabutler]

teddy bear

summary: you and elvis enjoying a morning wake up routine. fandom: elvis presley | elvis ( 2022 ) rating: t just for a brief implication of future and past sexual activities pairing: big daddy elvis presley x plus sized female reader ( but honestly, can be read gender neutral, but i mention bosoms ) word count: 924 warnings: big daddy elvis. mentions of names regarding weight ( pig, cow, etc ). use of the word fluffy instead of fat. author’s note: i'm not actually tagging anyone in this because it's so self indulgent on my part that i'm just doing the normal tumblr tags and running away because i just want to wake up to big daddy and be each other's damn teddy bears. because listen i weigh more than elvis did at his death supposedly and the man can still crush me with his half a damn foot on my ass. also the pics in the moodboard are not meant to betray skin color of the reader. only the size.

There's something ironic you think about how once upon a time when Elvis was svelte with that Southern good ol boy charm he sang about wanting to be your teddy bear. The you at that time might have been every female in the entire world but nowadays it's mostly just you. Mostly just you and him in bed in Las Vegas or on the Lisa Marie or any number of places. It's mostly just you and him and his need to stay up contrasting with your scandalous love affair with sleep. One night you realized the trick, or at least a trick to get your fiance to sleep was to sing that song at him. You're not him when it comes to being a vocal powerhouse, things sounding raspier than they have any right to but it gets the job done. Sometimes it ends in a roll among your shared sheets but more and more it just ends in him snuggling up to your ample bosom and listening to your heart beat a steady thump thump thump for the man you love. Other nights he lulls you to sleep with a whispered version of the song, smirking as he tells you to put a chain around his neck before you swat him on his behind that puts your own to shame sometimes. Those nights end with your head on his chest, playing with his chest hair as you listen to the steady thump thump thump of his heart that beats only for you and his daughter.

The thing is these nights always have to end. The two of you can't stay in a cocoon of heartbeats and warm blankets. He has to get ready to sing his heart out and you have to do your own thing. You're usually the one who wakes up first, arms and legs tangled together with a man who's about as fluffy- a term you will always use to describe him because enough people call him fat- as you are, cushioned from the world and every horror that might await the pair of you. Every problem, every set of words designed to injure both you and him are kept at bay when you stay in the bed.

You feel his eyes and hear the subtle uptick in his heartbeat that signals that he's awake before you hear the growl of his early morning voice. "Too early to be up, darlin'. Go back t' sleep."

A laugh leaves your lips. It's a gruff sort of thing but it makes Elvis smile hearing it when he first wakes up. It reminds him who's here on his chest. It reminds him who helps him sleep at night and who helps him get up in the morning when things ache. "if I didn't see the sun shining brightly even though the curtains I'd believe you, baby. Time to get up. We have a lot of things to do. Last day before we can head to Graceland. Gotta give them a good show, Elvis."

His eyes, heavy and lidded with sleep widen just a bit before he pulls you closer to him, clinging to the last vestiges of sleep and relaxation with a world that's just you and him. "Could cancel. Wouldn't be the first time."

You know unless Elvis truly can't perform that he would never cancel a date and yet you have to pull your head back from him a little and raise your eyebrow at the comment. "You wouldn't. Not after the last cancelled show."

The last cancelled show where the press had ripped him to shreds and where pictures of the two of you were plastered across the papers painting him as a portly pig and you as his little cow. Nevermind that you're certain your fiance could snap a number of men in half from his strength that hid underneath the extra padding. The extra fluff for you to kiss and squeeze. You feel Elvis's large hand against the back of your neck and you can't help but mirror the movement, placing your own hand on the back of his neck. You think he's going in for a proper kiss but he just nuzzles your nose. It makes you scrunch up your face before you force yourself to roll on top of him, straddling his thick thighs between your own thick thighs. His groan has you giggling a little sinisterly.

"I wouldn't, but wit' ya straddlin' me like 'm a prize bull, ain't sure I got a choice." His hands move to cup your ass and squeeze before pulling you somehow closer. "Think maybe ya might be able to give me the right incentive."

Your answer is a solemn nod while you try and keep an eye on Elvis's body, trying to see just what he has planned only to realize you don't even feel his thighs flexing. It allows you to relax. "That so, you want to-" Your words get cut off with a yelp as Elvis manages to gracefully flip the two of you, his body pressing down against you, pushing you into the bed as much as he can. You're not like some of his other girlfriends but it almost makes the way your own weight bends and shrinks when presented with his own that makes his body pressed up against yours. Your hips buck up only to be met with his solid weight that refuses to move.

"Ten more minutes 'n 'll show ya."

You don't leave the room for another half an hour.

[riddle-me-ri]

About the Blogger Meme

Aww this was so fun thanks for tagging me @finniestoncrane 💚

Star Sign(s): Scorpio is the only one I'm aware of lol and even then I don't think it fits me 🥴

Favorite Holidays: Definitely has to be Halloween, love the spooky season.

Last Meal: enchiladas (for dad's bday lunch)

Current Favorite Musician: my *current* favorite musician right now will have to be this band called Valley of Wolves. I have been listening to them on repeat for months at this point asdfgg but I have way too many favorites in general to list and it's all over the place lmao

Last Music Listened To: ...That's Entertainment by Valley of Wolves

Last Movie Watched: Violent Night with Finnie and Marchie and omg it was such a badass movie I was completely taken aback by how good it was adfghhjk

Last TV Show Watched: mmm....I watched Judge Judy with my step mom? I don't watch a lot of TV rip

Last Book/Fic Finished: The Red Queen by Christina Henry

Last Book/Fic: this maybe because I'm sleep deprived but umm does this mean like the last one I read but didn't finish? Cause I got a few books a couple weeks back and I've read various fics and headcanons I've lost track of lmao

Currently Reading: two books at once...bad idea I know rip but...Cursed an anthology series by Marie O'Regan and Paul Kane AND Looking Glass by Christina Henry (also a collection of stories so that's how I can read both rip)

Last Thing Researched For Art/Writing/Hyperfixation: I had to look up references for an art gift I'm doing, someone jumping out of cake lmao

Favorite Online Fandom Memory: I, too, will have to choose creating the Arkham Asylum discord server with finnie 💚

Favorite Old Fandom You Wish Would Drag You Back In/Have a Resurgence: hmm...I'm honestly not sure like...the fandoms I was in were often kinda small and it was back on dA and no one could get me to go back there so yeah...ehhh not sure about that one lol

Favorite Thing You Enjoy That Never Had an Active or Big "Fandom" but You Wish Did: I'm not sure if it had a big or small fandom at the time, when it came out I was slowly taking a break from fandom culture, but I'd love to partake in the Telltale's The Wolf Among Us/Fables fandom (more leaning into telltale's version since it's been years since I read the comics rip) but definitely expect me to hop on board when the second game drops asdfg

Tempting Project You're Trying to Reign In/Don't Have Time For: my personal storyboards which are coming along slowly but surely lmao, so definitely trying to reign in.

Tagging: @lovesick-on-the-loose , @callsigncrash , @letshaveadepressionparty , @fallingpapersnow , @lonleydweller , @thesquishypenguin , @master-of-fear-s-husband , and anyone else who would like to do this is welcome to and no pressure to those that have been tagged to do it! 💚

[felinecryptid]

Chasing Pasts in Shadows

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

please pay attention to the tags, there's some heavy stuff going on

Mr Reyes was a balding, rotund man in his fifties, who greeted them, showed them around the garden like a realtor and finally invited them into the parlour (A parlour!) to have some tea. Will was currently sat on the long couch with Mike crowding him in towards the right armrest and eyeing the plates suspiciously and worrying the rip in his black jeans . Max took the armchair nearer Mike, picking up one of the sandwiches. Mr Reyes took the last armchair, settling in with a sigh. “Oof. Bad knees, these days. I'm not as young as I was, back in the eighties,” he chuckled, “but you kids don't have to worry about that yet, hmm? I should hope not. Well, take whatever you’d like to eat and you can ask away,” He leant back into the plush of the chair.

Will nodded and reached in for a grape. ”Mr Reyes, before we start, if at any point of time you feel uncomfortable answering questions, do let us know. We want to know as much as possible about the case but not at the cost of your mental health. Do you understand?”

“I do.”

“Good. Max, hand over the recorder, please.”

Max passed it to Mike. Will reached out for it, electricity racing up when his hand briefly brushed against Mike’s. He fought down a shiver, clicking it on and placing it on the middle of the table, among the delicately arranged sandwiches, fresh fruit and cheese and crystal glasses of sparkling water. “Just say your name and age, we’ll take care of the rest.”

“Javier Reyes and 53.”

“Mr Reyes, you called us to investigate some disturbances in, um, your house. Could you please elaborate?” Will asked, chewing on his grape. It was delicious.

“Oh, what do you want to know about?”

“When did they first start?”

“About 10 months ago, I was in the kitchen to get a drink, I think, at 2 am in the morning, because the mini fridge in my room had broken down a few days ago. The entire house had blown a fuse, and some of my appliances short circuited before the fuse. Old faulty circuitry in an old house. So, I was getting a beer from the refrigerator, when the chandelier started swinging, just enough to be visibly moving. I thought nothing of it, going back to bed. Things progressively went worse from there,” Mr Reyes said. Will could see his fingers clenching hard.

“Worse how?” Max asked, reaching for another plate of sandwiches. “These are delicious, by the way.”

“I’m glad, Ms. Mayfield,” Mr Reyes smiled, his eyes losing a bit of their edge. “About your question, well, it didn't get bad right away. At first, it was swinging chandeliers, knives out of the wooden block, on the island or just my phone dying even if I charged it all night,” Mike, Max and Will glanced at each other. What the fuck? Mike mouthed silently.

Just keep listening, Max mouthed back.

Mr Reyes didn't notice their little conversation, continuing, “then I started finding the knives in increasingly weird places, like the library, behind a book I was thinking of reading, in the bath where I could have cut my foot on it, once I found a meat cleaver on the bedside table. I couldn't sleep again for the rest of that night,” Mr Reyes cut off, shivering. Will felt like it, too. Meat cleavers near his head? Will would run, screaming and never looking back.

“Are you okay, Mr Reyes? We can take a break if you like,” Will asked.

“No, no, it’s fine, it’s relieving to get this off my chest. I was so happy when I saw the Facebook ad,”

The what? Facebook? What the fuck was Lucas doing?

“If you are sure,” Will nodded.

“I heard footsteps, first on the floors above or below me, then it got closer, I heard it outside in the hallways, in the room adjacent to the one I'm in, and it always walks towards me. They start silent, barely audible, getting louder and louder til I'm sure there’s someone on the other side. Just there, looking, standing, staring. It’s gotten even closer since the last few days,” Mr Reyes' face was frozen in an expression of confused terror. Will felt sorry for the man. Mr Reyes seemed so optimistic, so happy. No one would ever think he was going through a horror film all the time.

Mr Reyes went on. “The footsteps are always coming from where I can’t see. I was making and eating dinner the day before, when the dreaded sounds came up, thud, thud, thud, behind me,” Mike inched closer to Will, a movement so minute, Will would have missed it if he wasn’t attuned to every single part of Mike. “I whipped around, sure I’d see the intruder, a squatter or something, but there was no one. Nothing. I decided I’d call someone, maybe a priest to have a look around the next morning. I threw away the rotting pb&j full of maggots-”

“Wait, rotting pb&j?” Mike asked, perplexed.

“Oh, yeah. It's been happening for some time but food goes bad the moment I take my eyes off them. It rots away like it's been sitting there for days. Liquified and maggots crawling through them,” Max set her plate of sandwiches down, a bit green in the face. “I'm not sure how that is happening, but I don't eat here anymore, my friends take me out for meals.”

“Mr Reyes,” What the fuck, Will asked, “Do you have any other place to stay for a while? All of this sounds like it’s very intense for you-”

“Oh no, Mr Byers, I can’t leave this place, not after- not after my dear Emily…” Mr Reyes choked up. “I can’t bear to leave this place, no. If I stay over at a friend’s, she won't come to me. She talks with me in my dreams, asks me how I am, we do things we normally do, like cooking together, reading in the library, kissing me, but if I don't come home, Emily doesn't come to me, only the sound of footsteps, getting closer,” A tear dropped down Mr Reyes’ face. Will felt unsettled. The things he was describing did sound like a true haunting, but what if it wasn't?

“Mr Reyes, I think it'd be good for you to take a stroll in the garden, get a breath of fresh air,” Will spoke up. “I insist.”

Mr Reyes slumped, breathing heavily. “Alright,” He said, after staring at his shoes, for what seemed like an eternity, “I'll take a short walk outside,”

Will turned back to the others the moment he left. “How are you guys holding up? If this case is true, it'd would be the biggest one yet, financially and paranormally,”

Max looked at Will. “You don’t believe him, do you?”

“It’s not that, I suspect other things as well,”

“Will,” Mike said, so softly near his ear, Will nearly jumped out of his skin. “I don’t think he's lying,”

“What do you mean?”

“Max, you can feel it right? It’s so heavy around him, It is coming off in waves,” Mike stared at the door Mr Reyes exited from.

“It’s still here though,” Max said. “If he was being haunted, then the intensity of the energy would cease the moment he left, but it didn’t.”

“But it’s different, they are not similar,”

“You mean there are more than one entities in this house?”

“It doesn't have to be an entity, Byers, it can be a object with history as well,”

“But this doesn't feel like an object, it feels separate,” Mike sighed loudly. “I don't understand.”

“So I was way off when I thought it was schizophrenia.”

“You thought it was schizophrenia? Have we not done this shit like a thousand times?” 

“Well, sue me, I was thinking of his mental health, Max. It has happened before, when it was just El, Mike and me.”

“Okay, okay, Max, calm down, Will can’t feel the traces so it’s not his fault. Will, thank you for looking out for us, I, uh, we appreciate it.” Mike looked at Will, eyes soft. Will felt his cheeks heat up.

The door swung open and Mr Reyes walked in, his face noticeably calm.

“I feel better now,” He took his seat. “We can continue.”

“Mr Reyes, can you show us the food thing?”

***

things are escalating, what is going to happen?

thank you for reading!!

once again this was only betad by grammarly and hemingway editor so please lemme know if there are any errors or weird dialogues bc english isnt my first language and some of it looked funky to me.

some more lore that i can't figure how to put in the story w/o infodumping

el's full name is Janelle Hopper

will and el are still step siblings

lonnie is out of the picture

el is hopper's bio daughter

el was never experimented on and she grew up a happy normal life bc hop and joyce got together when will and el were about 5

mike, will and el met in kindergarten, just like in canon

the only reason el has this backstory is because i personally want el to not have a trauma filled life

next part should be up tomorrow, same time ie 1800 IST, spam me with messages if i don't update ✨✨

tell me what part you liked!!

[drewzelle]

“nine mutuals you want to know better” tag game!

Tagged by @sarenhale ! I didn't have access to my computer the past couple days so I'm a bit late, but this was a lot of fun!! Thank you for the tag <3

Last Song: lately I've been relaxing to the Hollow Knight OST (City of Tears best track) but in terms of lyrical music, I recently rewatched the music video for "Little Dark Age" by MGMT because its vibes are fucking impeccable and mesmerizing (I can watch it on repeat for hours)

Favorite Color: purple is my go-to answer (especially blue-ish purples), but I also really love dark greens and desaturated earthy colors so much

Last Movie/TV Show: I feel like I haven't been watching movies lately (I'm more of a show person because I like longer form narratives) but I think the last one I watched was "Better Off Dead" while I was visiting my family for the holidays. It was a weird/surreal but good time! As for shows, I finally got around to watching Scavenger’s Reign!! Every aspect was just amazing, especially the worldbuilding and visuals. 2D animation is probably my favorite medium, so I'm really glad we're seeing more animation for adults that wants to tell a story instead of being a delivery device for lame sex jokes and cringe humor. OH ALSO DUNGEON MESHI!!! For a lot of the same reasons! Excited to watch the new episode tonight :>

Sweet / Spicy / Savory: I have a HUGE sweet tooth, so if I had to pick one, that would be it. Savory foods are great and I love them, I just have a leftover "now's your chance!" impulse from not being allowed much sugar as a kid that I can't seem to get rid of. I'm also weak to the "I deserve a lil treat" trap if I've got a bunch of sweet snacks around, so I have to be careful. As for spicy….I am SO completely unable to handle spicy food it’s almost funny, but really it’s just tragic because I LOVE cuisines known for being spicy, like mexican and thai. If I eat out, I always have to be like “can you please make it mild?” and even then, if it's not seasoned for the babiest of babies, my mouth will burn and my weak, white-person tummy will hurt.

Relationship Status: I keep forgetting I’m getting married in less than six months. My partner and I got engaged like two years ago and have lived together for almost five, so my brain just defaults to "there’s probably a guy nearby" and doesn’t think much deeper on it than that.

Last thing I googled: "morels" because I was discussing mushrooms with my friend and those are some cool lookin' guys! Shaggy ink caps too!

Current Obsession: …….One Piece 😅 I was a big fan as a teen but only got as far as the Skypiea arc before I fell off reading/watching it. The hype over the new live action version reminded me the series existed, so I’ve been not so slowly making my way through again, picking up where I left off. I love how absolutely bonkers, there-are-no-rules, anime-ass-anime it is, but also how genuine and heartfelt it can be. I also enjoy how character-driven so much of the plot is which works because of how interesting the characters are (Chopper, Robin, and Franky are my favs). I just got to the timeskip, so I’m maybe…halfway through? between this and BG3, RIP my free time lol

Last Book: I've been reading through Seiji Yoshida's "Houses with a Story" (slowly, because I want to really take it in and savor it) and it's been a delight. Very relaxing and inspiring :> (up next, I finally got copies of the Locked Tomb series, so soon I will be enjoying The Space Lesbians)

Looking forward to: Being able to organize and enjoy my "new" office space after some hectic days! My partner and I realized we barely spend any time in our bedroom except for sleeping, so we swapped my office into the bigger room in our apartment! There were some complications with getting the internet working on my PC, but we finally got it all smoothed out. Now I finally have all my books and sewing/crafting/creative stuff in one place without it feeling cramped or hiding things away in storage :>

Thank you again for the tag! I'm tagging @justagoos, @icicleteeth, @lunarliart, @saltsparkle, @fael-draws, @juliedillon, @ninamodaffari, @crabdominalpain, and the final slot for anyone else who wants to join in - but please don't feel obligated, this is just for fun! :>

[moramaisis]

Tagged by @a-hulder Aaaa! Thank you!♥ Nickname: I don't have any, people just use my name. When i was a kid, i had many. Mom called me mermaid and some other things that are awkward to translate. Some classmates called me "the artist" for a short amount of time. Sign: Scorpio

Height: 1,75 m or 5' 9" Last thing i googled: sketchyfinch (Grace Winstead on ig) Song stuck in my head: Rockwell- Somebody's watching me Number of followers: 284 Amount of sleep: I need 8 hours at minimum, but it's hard to get it because of insomnia. It's always changing. Lucky number: I don't have one. Or luck in general. Dream job: I always wanted to be a vet. Or a biologist, zoologist if it didn't work out. Just working with animals. Wearing: Knitted socks (mom made them!), leggings, t-shirt and a bathrobe. Movies/books that summarize me: Oh wow, never thought about it ....ummm... Books: Lydia Koidula's death poetry (she wrote about two main things, her love for her country and death.) Sügispeeglimäng - Ellen Niit (a poetry book) Jane Eyre - Charlotte Brontë Black Beauty - Anna Sewell Haruki Murakami's novels The amber cat - Hilary McKay Countless fairy tale books we have with stories from all over the world. Really love old creepy ones! Our folk tales and fairy tales.

Movies/tv shows: Hercule Poirot (David Suchet is the absolute best!) Miss Marple Midsomer murders The Thing (1982) Alien franchise (I have a special thing for Ellen Ripley, but the new films are okay too) Sleepy hollow Hannibal Princess Mononoke Howl's moving castle Hellboy Crimson Peak Jane Eyre (2006) Bram Stoker's Dracula Favorite song: This is hard... i listen to a lot of different genres, usually to one song until i'm tired of it. So, i'll list some songs that i was obsessed as a teen and could replay a hundred times now. Vanessa Mae - Destiny, Toccata and Fugue in D Minor, I feel love, The Devil's Trill Sonata, Bach Street Prelude, Embrasses Moi (You Fly Me Up). Anything by My Chemical Romance. Full stop. ABBA - Lay all your love on me, The winner takes it all, Gimme Gimme Gimme, Voulez-Vous, SOS. Röyksopp- What else is there. Their new stuff is fantastic too! I'll give a few ones. Stay Awhile (feat. Susanne Sundfør), Lights Out ft. Pixx, So Ambiguous ft. Jamie Irrepressible, Me & Youphoria, Oh, Lover ft. Susanne Sundfør. Favorite instrument: The organ, violin or Cello. Aesthetic: Alternative. All black and accessorised when i'm going out, but a comfortable style when walking the dog or at home. Loose T-shirts, leggings or loose trousers, knit socks. Favorite author: Haruki Murakami. Jane Austen. Favorite animal noise: The sneeze! The sound when they shake their fur, yawning. Random: I have three cats and a dog. The third cat was unplanned, i found her as a kitten in 2020. Bottle fed her for a week and she's my daughter now 😈. Her tail is bent in a spiral shape and she's a tortoiseshell from hell who rips wallpaper off the walls. Tagging: @likopinina

[buckybarnesdiaries]

a piece of cake

© @jamesbrnes

bucky barnes x reader. ⎢ masterlist.

Something happens at Shuri's birthday party that leads to a heated fight.

word count: 3k words. (fuck, it worth every damn word)

warnings/tags: nsfw, +18!!! angry jealous sex, let's start there. unprotected sex, oral sex (face fucking and ridding), fingering, brief daddy!kink, brief praise!kink, language, cursing, handcuffing, mention of bodily fluids, and probably i'm forgetting something else, i just lost my mind. bucky being the cutest and loving man on earth at the end.

author notes: none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

join the tag list here.

You had never been so quiet, but you knew that opening your mouth only could cause a storm inside the car, on your way back home. Believing you could have a pinch of luck, Bucky wouldn't notice that something was raving you mad since the moment you watched him letting another woman give him a spoon of cake. Straight to his mouth. You almost choked on your drink, talking to Shuri about how excited she was to celebrate her birthday in New York, when you witnessed the scene hearing their laughs and watching how they dared to touch his metal arm constantly. Your boyfriend was talking with some of his old friends from Wakanda, not even knowing he made friends there. He never said a word about it. Even so, they didn't have the right to flirt with him. Unless he didn't say anything about you.

But Bucky wasn't stupid. Or at least, not like you thought. Gazing you by the corners of his blue eyes, he was conscious that something was going wrong. He licked his upper lip briefly, slowly. He tasted the waters putting a hand on your thigh, which was your favorite gesture while he was driving, deriving with your fingers laced and him placing kisses on the back of your hand. But you didn't move an inch, still staring through the copilot's window with your elbow nailed there and your chin resting on your knuckles.

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing”.

Your passive tone and the lie as a response caused him to frown, pulling over the car to focus on you. He turned on his seat and placed a hand behind the headrest of yours.

“Spit it”.

You couldn't help but raise an eyebrow ironically, looking at him for a second. If he had to ask it was because he wasn't really seeing the dilemma there.

“I'm just tired and I wanna go home, James. That's all”.

James. James. You did it unconsciously, but he didn't take it as an innocent manner of calling him. Unexpressive, the soldier joined the highway driving faster than he used to. You had pissed him off, but it wasn't your problem. He had hurt your feelings with something he didn't give any importance to. The only thing you wanted was to take a shower, put on your comfier pajamas and go to sleep, probably you'd see tomorrow that situation differently than today and you could move on from your insecurities and the jealousy running through your veins.

You arrived at your apartment in record time, keeping the car inside the parking under the building. You removed the seat belt to wear your leather jacket and grab your purse on your feet, stepping out when you were ready. But Bucky stayed inside, just turning off the engine. He didn't have any intention of leaving it, maintaining his hands tightly gripped around the wheel. You ignored him as soon as you couldn't pretend you were just tired anymore. It was the first time something like that happened and you were having a strong desire to throw your guts up.

Three minutes later you were under the warm water with your forehead resting against the cold wall and your eyes closed. Maybe you were overreacting and the rational, mature behavior would be to go to talk with him, tell your boyfriend what made you feel upset. Sighing as you nodded two times, determined to put the cards on the table, you shut off the faucet and walked out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel.

“Oh, fucking hell!” You growled because of the scare of your life when you found Bucky already in your shared room.

He had his back supported on the wall, a leg flexed, and his hands behind himself. No expression on his face, but expecting an explanation from you. You were hoping for something from him too, maybe I don't know what I've done to make you feel like that, can you give me a clue? He just stared at you in silence, drying the pearls of water decorating your body before wearing a pair of black panties and your forgotten pajamas instead of one of his t-shirts impregnated on his scent.

“Com'ere”. Bucky whispered, stretching his flesh hand on air when you were about to go to sleep.

“No”.

Well, that wasn't the proper way to talk like grown adults. You crossed both arms on your chest, standing next to your side of the bed.

“What'd you say?” He squinted incredulous, slowly standing from the wall, pretending you hadn't uttered that word.

“I said no, you fucking punk”.

“The hell d'you think you're talking to, darling?”

“To the cretin who let other women flirt and touch him”. You replied with evident annoyance. “Why don't you go to show them your daddy's skills, uh? Sure I can find someone who respects me in the meantime”.

Suddenly, a grimace you hadn't seen before on him appeared like a thunderbolt. You weren't sure if you just made him feel more furious or if you just broke his heart. But before you could figure it out, Bucky shorted the distance between both in two fast strides and his hands gripped your throat and the back of your neck respectively, pinning you to the closest wall and tossing the lamp on your nightstand to the floor. You complained slightly —with his tongue wildly invading your mouth— because of the strength he used to put you against the wall.

You tried to push him away, to not fall into his charmings, but he made your mind blank when his fingers were firmly nailed in your ass and his body was accommodated between your legs. Your fiery provoked a bulge under his pants so painful that in every rock against your core he wasn't sure if it hurt or if it was some kind of pleasure he couldn't handle. Out of breath, Bucky attacked your neck, digging his teeth in your neck with so much passion that you screamed delighted his full name while pulling his hair. That gesture drove him insane, losing the less sanity he had at that point. With just a push, your boyfriend ripped off your shirt to strip you, in anticipation of your panties suffering the same fate.

Bucky threw you to the mattress on your abdomen, perfectly positioned to what was about to happen. He was so eager, so desperate for showing you what he was feeling that he didn't lose time taking off his clothes, just undoing his belt and unzipping his jeans to pull them down to his ankles along his boxers. You heard him spitting in his hand to use it as lube, although you were sufficiently soaked and ready for your Buck that neither of you needed his saliva. He rammed his dolorous erection into your cunt, crashing his pelvis and pressing it against your ass with all his strength, causing you to drown a loud cry in the sheets.

Tangling his fingers with yours and lacing your arms around your neck, putting all his weight onto your back, Bucky pounded you with an insanely quick rhythm, not giving you any chance to mold your throbbing walls around his length. Your pleased vocals echoed inside your room in total sync with the hits to your g-spot. Your body received with every one of them soft cramps mixed with pain and pleasure, making you roll your eyes and tear your throat.

“'S that wh— what you wanted, uh?” Bucky snarled against the back of your neck, totally gone, not giving you a break or showing any mercy.

“Fuck, no…” You replied, challenging him.

He swallowed a rough moan, wrapping his cold fingers around your throat while using the other to pull back your hair and arch your body. “Don' fucking… lie to me, doll… You wan— wanted your daddy to make you… feel desired over tho— those women”.

And yes, he was right. More or less. But you didn't expect him to react like that. Bucky was rabidly fucking you, moving the bed from its position with every angry thrust into your pussy. You knew you weren't going to last for too long if he continued impaling you against the mattress, just like that. But you both had to recognize that it was the best session of sex of your life.

“You were… fucking mad watch— watching 'em touch my arm… your arm, right?”

You whined at the brutality he used to push his hard cock beyond your limits, holding it there as he tilted your head to crash his lips on yours. Bucky devoured them until they were shiny, swollen, slightly ached because of the bit he left on your bottom one.

“If you don't tell me… the truth… I swear I'm not gonna let you come”. The whisper fell into your ear with such a raspy tone of voice, conscious of him being very capable.

“It was… your fucking fault, James. Not… Not mine”. You grunted, feeling him going a little deeper. “I di— didn't let anybody flirt with me… as if you didn't exist”.

That was the truth, but the wrong answer for him. Suddenly, Bucky pulled out his dick covered in your arousal, freeing you from any grip. A pause that only lasted the time he took to grab the handcuffs from your nightstand to place them in your wrists and secure them around the headboard. Now you were under his total control, defying him by strongly closing your legs and frowning at him, panting and sweating.

“Lemme tell you something”. Your boyfriend said, dangerously crawling over the bed till reaching your knees and forcing them to be separated, wide spread for him. “If you think I was flirting, but you didn't see… how uncomfortable I was… This situation is not my fault”.

The tables were turned as he finished his sentence, settling himself between your legs yet kneeling to raise your ass above his lap. “Not so mouthy now, are you, doll?”

You wanted to speak back, to say something after having a second to reconsider the reason why you were so angrier at him when Bucky pushed you down and rammed his dick back to the place it belonged. You forced unconsciously your hands gripped, wanting to put them on him —wherever—. As soon as he handcuffed you, your desire for touching him used to be suffocating. But you were the one who played from the start, instead of telling him how you were feeling about that situation at Shuri's party.

Bucky didn't even let you kiss him, stabilizing you on top with an arm around your waist and his cold hand holding the back of your head. His hips rocked straight to your g-spot once and once, making you lose any kind of control over your body as your boyfriend didn't have any compassion, needing to find relief to his sorrowful erection by cumming inside your clenching walls. You were driving him crazy, maintaining your eye contact at all moments and almost drinking your delighted, obscene crying, aware that only him could cause you to be so dirty.

“Feels good, uh…? You like it?” Your boyfriend brushed your lips with his, depriving you of his kisses or any other touch. “Bec— 'cause you take your daddy... so damn good, baby girl… So tight… so tight you could kill me”.

“Yes, da— daddy”. You whimpered nodding your head. “Only you… can fuck me li— like that… Only you”.

“That's it… that's it, oh, fuck… fuck, doll”.

You saw him roll that pair of beautiful blue eyes to the back of his head, feeling Bucky's thighs tensing under your legs. You didn't want anything else than making him cum, after overthinking about how he felt, and not about what you witnessed. He was right, more or less. He was still being so innocent in those kinds of situations that he used to feel like a scared kid.

You suddenly fell back to reality when the emptiness sensation invaded you. Bucky pulled out his length from you again, causing you to beg in silence for not denying you the orgasm you were about to reach. But he warned you. Bucky asked you to tell him the truth and you chose to challenge him. Letting you sit on the mattress, he flexed a leg to guide his twitching cock to your mouth, not needing to tell you what he wanted you to do. You just parted your lips, receiving him without protesting, curling your fingers when he forced your limits, and positioned both hands on your head. Twirling your tongue around his base as you could, with your cavity completely invaded, Bucky provoked you a strong gag. A gesture that led to his warm seed being spilled down your throat.

“Fuck my life, baby girl!” He couldn't help but howl driven by the pleasure as you coughed and made vibrate his sensitive skin.

Just holding his dick trapped by your lips for a second, he freed your mouth, taking his time to admire you swallowing his cum and showing afterward your tongue. God, you looked so beautiful disheveled, with teary eyes and swollen lips because of the effort.

“Want me to tell you something else?” Bucky asked while cleaning the sweat in his forehead with the back of his arm, taking the small key to liberating you with his free hand.

You didn't reply, not needing to, as he rubbed your wrists to comfort your skin before lying by your side.

“Com'ere”. He whispered, yet trying to recover your breathings. Bucky wrapped you with his flesh arm, rubbing his iron fingers up and down your tense belly, creating a contrast that caused you goosebumps. “'M so sorry for making you feel like that”.

He kissed you. Slowly, passionate, tasting his own juices mixed with your saliva. Caressing your tongue with the tip of his, and no rush. You felt his digits touring down your skin, till finding your throbbing and needed clit. You weren't able to hold back a sweet moan when he circled his fingertip over your sensible pearl, gladly drinking your vocals.

“When I wanted to react… she was putting that damn spoon into my mouth. It felt horrible, doll, I promise”. He murmured, venturing his long cold finger to part your folds and sink it inside you —moaning at the fulfill sensation—. “You always save me from those awkward situations… but you were having fun with Shuri and I didn't want to interrupt you”.

You were feeling like shit, looking at him through your eyelids as he curved a second finger into your cunt and increased the pace of the pounds with his hand made of vibranium. Bucky spread some gentle kisses all around your face, ending with a tender bite to your lips.

“When you told me you wanted to go home, I felt a huge relief… 'Cause that was everything I wanted. Go home with you. Maybe watch a movie… cuddle… fall asleep on the sofa”.

“Oh, God, Bucky”. You wept onto his mouth, as soon as a third finger filled you, nailing his hand in the perfect position to be moved up and down. “I'm so— sorry, Buck… I'm sorry”.

“Fuck, no”. He let out, thrusting you harder, faster, creating a melody of filthy sloppy sounds while your moans were louder and louder. “I should stop 'em, I didn't… I didn't. But I respect you more than anything, doll… I love you with all my heart. I care 'bout you, 'bout your feelings… Can you forgive me? Can you… Can you cum for me?”

You nodded your head running out of words, seeing your boyfriend snaking his body down the bed to between your shaky legs, yet having his fingers knuckles deep inside you. “Keep 'em open for your man”.

The blow to your abused cunt provoked you a lash up to your backbone, landing your hands on his head as Bucky sank his face straight to your center. His digits fucked you savagely, while his tongue took control of your swollen pearl —sucking, licking, kissing, pulling it back—. He wasn't going to deny that pleasure to you, quite the opposite. You pressed unconsciously his face a little closer to your pussy, swinging your hips and riding his mouth when his caresses and his pushes became too much for you.

Bucky made you cum harder than ever, crying his name till you didn't have any strength and you were just a sack of bones under his expert mouth, devouring you and drinking your juices as if it was the elixir of life. And when he was satiated, you glanced at him using the tip of his tongue to trail a path up crossing your abdomen, the gap between your breasts, your throat, until kissing you again getting comfortable on top of you. It was a kiss full of love, and guiltiness, and necessity, and pure devotion for you.

“Did I hurt you with what I said?” You murmured, still enraptured by the fireworks fluttering within your belly.

“This isn't 'bout me”. Bucky clicked his tongue, hiding his face into your sweaty neck. “This is 'bout what I let happen”.

“That doesn't answer my question, Buck… I'm sorry about what I said. I was just… I feel insecure". You confessed stroking his scalp and back with your hands, lacing your legs together. “I didn't mean it. I would never try to… find someone who respects me more than you do. That's impossible. And not talking about how much you love me”.

“I love you with every inch of myself”. He swore, he promised, raising his face to look straight at your eyes. “I can't imagine a life without you”.

“Me either… Your love makes me feel alive”.

Bucky left one last tender kiss on your lips before suddenly standing up and holding you onto his arms to carry you to the bathroom and take a shower together —wash your hair, worship your body again as if it was the last thing he was going to do—.

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[heresathreebee]

The One Where She Got A Dog

Yelena Belova X Reader

Summary: how Yelena became a dog mom Masterlist Part 2

Tags: E | 1.8k words | scary movie, winter, secret pasts, sapphic

AN: Black Widow movie really got me in my feelings about those characters, Yelena in particular. I havent watched The Thing in almost a year please look the other way if movie events are out of order.

Pretty Russian girls are not usually your type, but fuck if you weren't absolutely obsessed with this one. You laughed when she told you she was from Ohio.  She laughed when you said you were too. 

Aquavit and your grandma's biscuit recipe brought her into your cabin on the edge of the world where she admitted to you she had never seen John Carpenter's The Thing before. You turned it on just as the snow storm set in and wrapped up in your thickest blankets with her. You're trying not to get your hopes too high but she's not shy about asking you to scoot closer. 

"Skäl," you cheer just as the ominous opening credits end and they find the mysterious ship in the frozen wasteland of antarctica. 

"Have you ever been?," Yelena asked. 

You grimace at the strong taste of aquavit. It's like vodka but with caraway for 'flavor'. You look at her from the side and poor yourself a second shot. "Been…?" 

"There." She points at the screen. 

"I have actually," you admit in a way you hope is flat and uninteresting, "have you?" 

Yelena shook her head. It's possible she might think you're being sarcastic (you cross your fingers under the blanket and hope she does). She's smiling at you, thinking something (but still watching the screen with interest). 

She drops the subject until you have to pause the movie to pee. You unwrap yourself from the cocoon of blankets and as you stand she asks you another question. 

"What were you doing there? in Antarctica, I mean." 

You sigh and pretend to brush something off of your pants. "Science trip with my parents. Shitty vacation for me I'd rather be in the Bahamas." 

You resist the urge to look at her. After taking care of business, you come back just in time to put the biscuits in the oven. You hear Yelena lean into the kitchen archway as the floors creak immensely here. 

"No timer?," she asked. 

"No timer," you confirm. "I use the timer of my heart." 

Yelena scoffs. "Please don't burn them, I'm curious about these… what are they– pastries?" 

"Something like that." 

The two of you went back to the movie just as the gang on screen is trying to decipher who is human and who is not. You feel like something between you has changed and sadly not for the better. 

But she can't know. 

"I hate this part," you say, making absolutely no move to avert your gaze. 

Yelena is startled when the doctor's arms become trapped in the bear trap belly mouth of the "man" on the table. She quickly covers her eyes and giggles manically, slapping your chest for the vague and unhelpful warning. You realize she's not as close to you as before…

There's 20 minutes left of this movie and you haven't seen a single thing on screen. Yelena stopped asking you questions when you stopped being coherent with your answers. All you can think about is telling her. 

But you can't tell her. She would never understand. You barely understand and it's about you. 

"I lied." Your heart beats in your throat as you see her face you but you can't look at her directly for fear of losing your nerve. "About the science expedition? That's not why I was in Antarctica…" 

Yelena seems to wait for you to continue but… 

"Eh, no offense but, " you gesture with your hand, "I don't really know you like that." 

Yelena gave your reply a single nod. "I suppose that's fair." 

You can't help but fidget in your seat. "Idliketo" 

"What was that?" 

You cleared your throat. "I said… I said I'd like to. Know you like that, I mean…" 

Yelena gives you a smile. "I would like to know you like that, too." 

The movie ends, the biscuits are not burnt but buttery soft and golden brown, and the blizzard outside has subsided some. It's still going but at least it's not buffering the doors and windows like before. 

"How can you watch that film in a place like this?" Yelena cannot get enough of those biscuits, stuffing them in her mouth 2 at a time. "Does it make you paranoid?" 

"Yes it does," you say, putting your coat on, "I think that's what makes it so much scarier–  looking outside and being scared every person you come across ain't who they say they are. Sometimes its not a bad thing though... I think it is rather… poetic, too." 

Yelena's eyebrows furrow. "Where are you going?" 

You put on your boots and hope the duct tape stays on the hole you covered earlier. "Dogs are out in the shed. It's heated and they have food, but not for days and I'd rather have 'em in the house where I can take care of them." 

As you finished your sentence you reached for the door,  but stopped when you noticed Yelena getting dressed too. She gives you a nod as soon as her hood comes up, and you give this brave thing an appreciative once over. 

The snow that nearly all melted before is up to your knees now. Fresh, white, and fluffy. It muffles sound like the world's sidelong turning. The odd snowflake wafts lazily from the sky, but for the most part it's died down. You teach back and take Yelena's gloved hand to keep from staying too far apart. 

"You know I always wanted a dog," she said. She could have said it in a whisper from 100 yards away and you still would have heard her–  that is how eerily quiet it is. 

Yelena squeezes your hand and you squeeze back. She's probably remembering the movie. You try to distract her by saying, "Oh yeah? You can have one of mine then." 

Yelena laughs, then stops. "You serious?" 

"As a heart attack." You finally reach the door to the shed and unlatch the door. A chorus of barks begin and you charge forward to nudge them back to give Yelena space to come in as well. "I do some breeding up here–  just a side job. They're usually working dogs but they can be pets too." 

Buck licks your face from chin to forehead and you push him back. "Down, boy! Show some respect!" 

Yelena has two of the mongrels circling her, sniffing all her clothes and demanding to be pet. "That's Burt, Barney, and Bella. Buck's my stud, but these heathens are going to a farm. They've got sheep to watch." 

Yelena chuckles as her hands get covered in slobber. "I love them." 

They're almost grown, three quarters the height of their father. Buck didn't even look in Yelena's direction because he knows you give him treats. You take your scarf off as the heat of the shed threatens to smother you and search your pockets for jerky.  

"She's in there with the new puppies." You point to a darkened closet. "Don't get too close now, she's still a little protective." 

Yelena creeps closer. You see her look at you from the corner of her eye. Probably terrified by the morphing dog scene from the movie. You give her an encouraging smile and tell her where to find the light. It's a pull cord and it bathes the room in a warm golden yellow light. 

Yelena's heavy, controlled breathing turns into a coo. Mama dog is laying on her side watching the newcomer closely. There's a pup asleep in the nest of her legs, another chewing on the hay that litters the ground, and the last one is biting their mother's ear. Yelena looks back at you with an adorable pout on her lip. 

"So cute…" 

You chuckle and put your arm around her. Buck knows to steer clear of mama dog and slinks off. You make your guest walk closer with you to show mama she's got your confidence. 

"Yelena, this is Beyonce." Mama dog's ears perk at the sound of her name. "Beyonce, this is Yelena. Be nice." 

You reach down and scoop up the hay eating puppy at your feet. "This one's always hungry." 

You put the pup in her arms and scoop up the biter. "This one likes to play. All the time. Got more energy than the blue Energizer bunny actually." 

The pup in question is literally trying to wriggle out of your hands in its eagerness to climb you and eat your hair. 

"And that one sleeps a lot?" Yelena nodded her head at the last pup. 

"Pretty much." You put the writhing excited puppy down before it hurts itself and look up into the rafters. "And then there's the climber…" 

You both turn your heads when you hear a tiny bark. A cute little face stares down at you from the rafters and there's a feather stuck to its nose. You shake your head knowing this pup got it from ripping up pillows in another part of the dog house. 

"Better go get her," you said, not moving an inch to do so.  

Yelena sees your challenge and rises to it. As if trained to do exactly so, she assesses the wooden interior for foot and hand holds. You can see the wheels turning in her head as she calculates what will and won't support her weight. In the sweep of a single moment, she rises from the door and swings herself into the rafters using a build up a momentum to propel her fast in an upperward direction. She completes the climb and balances with ease, reaching out to collect the happy wagging miscreant from her mountain top, tucks her in her jacket and climbs a different way down. 

You stare at her. "Were you raised by trapeze artists?" 

Yelena laughs. "I thought everybody was." 

The pup is safe and happy and eager to explore its new friend. Yelena lets her lick, sniff, and scratch at her skin, her clothes, her hair. The pup catches Yelena with a tiny lick right on the tip of her nose and Yelena looks back at you with adoring eyes. 

You smile. "Got a name for her already don't you?" 

"Yes," Yelena whines, "no, are you sure about this? I should probably tell you I've never had a dog before…" 

"I can tell your good people," you reply. "And smart as a whip. You'll adapt, just call me if you ever need anything." 

~

Three weeks later you get a phone call from an unknown number. It's Yelena giving you an address and making you swear never to tell anybody about it. You don't have any friends so it's an easy secret to keep. 

You drive a few miles south and stumble upon a stationary trailer in the middle of nowhere, nothing but clearings and trees and sky. Actually very similar to your own home. 

The door opens and Yelena greets you with a beer and the pup under her arm, already almost a foot bigger than she was before. 

"Her name is Fanny." You both laugh yourselves hoarse and pile into the trailer to puppy proof the place. 

[camaro-and-smokes]

Little Christina - Is She for Real? Part 2

Rating: Explicit Characters: Billy Hargrove, Steve Harrington, Nancy Wheeler, Eddie Munson, ofcs Tags: Billy Hargrove Redemption, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Stranger Things AU - No Supernatural, Everyone Is Alive, Harringrove, Smut, Gay Sex, Breeding Kink, Rough sex

Links to all chapters on tumblr on Part 1 >>

Read on AO3 >>

Summary: Billy and Steve meet little Christina and Billy gets the confirmation he's been looking for.

::::::::::

Steve leaned on the headrest of the driver's seat and closed his eyes. He was in the car waiting Billy to get out of the house so that they could drive to the church for the christening service. He'd already waited for almost 15 minutes even though Billy had said that 'Ill be right out'. Nothing new there. It was why Steve had told him that the service would start 30 minutes earlier than when it actually did. They might actually be on time if Billy would just show up soon.

Finally he heard the front door closing. He opened his eyes and looked at the door. When he saw Billy, he smirked, and 'Sharp Dressed Men' by ZZ Top started playing in his head. Billy was wearing his tailored, half length black leather jacket – the one with metal chains hanging on the shoulders and the cuffs – cream color silk shirt, black ripped jeans and black biker boots. The long blond hair was messy with the curl hanging on his forehead and the long winged earring – the one Steve had given him ages ago – hanging on his other ear.

“Well, took you long enough,” Steve quipped as he looked at Billy, who pulled the car door closed after sitting down.

“Fuck you, Harrington. I know you mentally stripped me down as soon as I stepped out of that door,” Billy smirked and fastened his seat belt.

“Maybe I did, maybe I didn't,” Steve laughed and pulled out from the driveway and on to the street.

After Steve parked their car in front of the church, he got up and walked around the car to open the door for Billy. “Babe, you stared at yourself in the mirror the whole drive.”

Billy looked up at him and saw the mischievous grin on Steve’s face and sniffed, only partly serious: "You just check that your hair looks good in the mirror and go. We’re different like that.”

When Billy got up, Steve leaned into him and whispered into his ear: “I’d take you right here and now if we weren’t out in the open. I almost did there on the driveway, but we would’ve been late." He pushed a strand of hair behind Billy's ear to show the earring better. "I love that earring. I love the way your hair is. I love that jacket and those tight jeans you won’t stop wearing even though we’re going into a church. They show your ass in a way that I have a hard time not to grab it right now – and I know how it looks even though it's hidden under that jacket right now. You look like a rock star, babe, and I feel like a man in a way that’s indescribable because I get to be here as your man. You look gorgeous."

It made Billy blush.

“And I love that flush on your cheeks, firecracker,” Steve ended with a grin.

“You know I'm going to have to cash in all that sweet talk later," Billy grinned.

"Not am I only looking for it but also expecting it," Steve said and closed the car door.

The church was not full of people as they had expected. There was Nancy and her husband with the baby girl, the rest of the Wheeler family, the kids, Robin, Eddie and their partners, probably Nancy’s husband’s parents, few others Billy didn’t recognize, and them. They were the last to arrive, and when they walked down the ail hand in hand, everyone turned to look.

“Now there’s a pair that would deserve walking down the ail,” Dustin was the first to comment, as always.

Steve hugged everyone and he and Billy shortly introduced themselves to those who didn’t yet know them.

Throughout the service Billy couldn’t get his eyes off the baby. She was sleeping calmly on Nancy’s arms throughout the whole thing, which was short, thank god. He was mesmerized. Steve took his hand at some point, squeezing it gently, and it made Billy bite his tongue to keep his emotions in check.

After the service the whole party gathered at the Wheeler’s house. There was food and everyone asked Billy about California and what he was doing for living - working at a garage that made custom cars - and for fun - surfing and volunteering. For the first time in Hawkins, Billy felt like he was wanted. That people actually cared how he had been doing over the years he hadn’t visited there. He felt a bit sad that he hadn’t come over earlier.

“Babe, are you having fun?” Steve asked while they were eating on the living room sofa, cardboard plates in their hands.

Billy smiled a wide smile. “I am.”

“Good,” Steve said, smiling. “Do you want to meet baby-Christina?”

Billy’s smile turned shy. “I’d like that, a lot,” he said barely audibly.

Billy’s shy and quiet reply stopped Steve and made his heart flutter. Billy was loud, said what he thought and the words often slipped from his mouth even before he thought of what he was saying, and he was obnoxious to anyone who didn’t know better. But when he spoke with that tone, so quietly, it meant that what he said was really important to him. There was also something in his demeanor that Steve hadn’t seen before.

With the revelation he leaned on Billy and whispered: “You wanted to come here because of the baby, didn’t you?”

Billy squeezed his eyes closed and his cheeks flushed, once again. Then he glanced at Steve with one eye open, smiling, and whispered: “Yeah.”

Steve took a few deep, uneven breaths. "For fuck’s sake, firecracker," he gasped into Billy’s ear. "Upstairs bathroom, wait five minutes," he said getting up and walking towards the staircase.

When Billy finally got to the bathroom, Steve was at his breaking point. "You were actually looking for a punishment, were you, pet?” he gasped quietly as he let his slacks fall down and violently turning Billy, who had removed his jeans as soon as he locked the door, in front of him, bending him down against the basin.

“Yes, master,” Billy whispered back, submitting, leaning his forehead against the mirror.

“You better be quiet or you’re in for a humiliation of your life in front of all those people downstairs,” Steve whispered to Billy’s ear and pushed himself slowly inside him, muffling Billy’s moans by clasping his hand over his mouth.

Steve whispered into Billy's ear: "So you want to breed, don’t you, pet? With me?”

Billy gasped his readiness and willingness against Steve’s hand again and again in unison with Steve’s thrusts.

Arousal had built for Steve ever since his little pep talk in front of the church. Doing it in the Wheeler’s bathroom and trying to be as quiet as possible made it all the better, and it took neither of them long to come.

"Steve, babe?" Billy asked, nudging Steve's shoulder. "Everything alright?"

Steve blinked, and saw that they were still sitting on the living room couch. Billy was looking at him expectantly. Steve realized that a fantasy had coiled itself up in seconds inside his head because of what Billy had just admitted.

"No, I'm, uh, yeah, I'm OK. No worries," he stuttered. "I think I need to go to the bathroom."

Steve locked the bathroom door behind him and sat on the toilet cover, burying his head in his hands and taking a deep breath. He had forgotten all about that particular kink that taken him miles away back there on the couch. He had figured a long time ago that he didn't want to hurt Billy with it because he could never give him what it was all about. He'd also thought that in any case, there wouldn't have been any point in indulging the idea of having kids ever since he had decided that Billy would be the one he'd spend the rest of his life with. He had thought that because of Billy's background it would be just the two of them together and that was that. Of course he now realized his own mistake of never raising up the question up before. On hindsight, now that he thought of it, Billy had shoved hints at him for months and he had totally missed all of them. Billy was always so happy after the surfing lessons with the kids and he wouldn't stop speaking about them for days. He talked about how the kids developed and grew and how he was so proud of them and how happy he was that he could help them. Then he had started to talk about having a puppy at some point, and Steve had agreed that they could have one. They had even gone several times to the shelter close by, to see if there were any suitable ones. But not once they had taken one back home.

Steve now knew why. Billy didn't want a dog, he wanted to have a family. And Steve couldn't be happier. Because he wanted to have one too with Billy.

When Steve came out of the bathroom, he saw Billy chatting and laughing with Eddie. He didn't go straight to them but stopped to look at them from afar. Suddenly he saw Billy in a whole another light. He felt like he was about to burst. He wanted to talk about everything at once with Billy, but for now he had to turn his enthusiasm down a notch to keep himself from falling into a new fantasy trap.

"So, how are you guys doing?" Steve asked Eddie when he walked to them.

"We're going great. To be honest, I think Chrissy is having bit of a baby fever thanks to Christina. She hasn’t shut up about her since she was born. I think that she’s having all kinds of ideas by now.”

“Maybe it’s not such a bad idea."

Eddie shook his head. "I don't think I'm yet ready for something like that. It's a hell of a responsibility. And we'd have to get married and all."

"You know, just don't think about it too long. If you see her wanting it, go ahead and give her what she wants, make her happy. You won't regret it," Steve said and patted Eddie's shoulder.

They chatted with Eddie for a while longer, and when he was called away by the love of his life, Steve looked at Billy. “Shall we go meet Christina?”

Billy nodded, smiling.

They found Nancy and Christina in the dining room.

“Hey! I think you’re the only ones who yet haven’t met Christina!” Nancy said when she noticed them.

They leaned closer to look at the small bundle sleeping contentedly on her mother’s arms.

“She’s so tiny,” Billy whispered hypnotized, not wanting to wake the baby.

“You can hold her if you want,” Nancy offered to Steve.

“I think he'd like to hold her,” Steve said nodding at Billy and smiling.

“Can I?” Billy asked.

“Absolutely,” Nancy said smiling and offered Christina to him. “Just make sure she lays properly on your arms and her head stays supported.”

Billy swallowed hard as the small human was laid on his arm. He was holding the most precious thing he could ever imagine and felt a responsibility he’d never felt before. He was actually responsible for a life simply by having her there on his arm. He smiled at her and raised her gently just enough to get a whiff of the baby scent, brushing her plump cheek gently with his finger.

Steve leaned his head on Billy’s shoulder to look at Christina. “She’s so small. So precious,” he whispered.

“I want one,” Billy whispered back just loud enough to Steve to hear it.

“Then I’m going to make sure you get one, firecracker,” Steve whispered directly into Billy’s ear to keep anyone else from hearing it.

[2jaeh]

THREE DAYS  I  LEE TAEYONG

When your over controlling boyfriend invites you and his best friend to a three day resort did he not see trouble approaching? especially when said best friend has been trying to get in bed with you since the moment he met you.

Genre: mature theme, slight smut

warnings: cheating, suggestive masterbation, slight public scenes, cursing. 

words: 3k

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“Are you sure it's okay for me to tag along ?” Taeyong spoke into the phone as he threw a dress shirt into his already overflowing suitcase. “Okay cool, well I`ll see you guys at the resort then.” Taeyong sighed as he cut the call and took a good look at himself in the mirror. He wondered if he was too overdressed, or not dressed enough. He bit down on his lip and looked at the caller ID, his best friend Inseong holding on to the person Taeyong desired most, Inseong`s girlfriend. 

He had no idea when this “crush” began, if you could call it that at this point. Inseong and Taeyong had been casual university friends for a while but it was after graduation, when they both got hired by the same corporate office did they really establish a close friendship. 

Taeyong and Inseong did most things together, whether it be catching up at music events or a sunday afternoon golf trip. But if he were being honest, the real reason he loved hanging out with Inseong was because he knew he’d bring her around, the girl who had stolen his heart without having the slightest clue. 

DAY 1 : FRI

“Taeyong is afraid he is going to third wheel” Inseong chuckled as he concentrated on the open road in front of him, casually looking over at you scoffing down a bag of jelly tots. 

“Youre working though” you stuck your tongue out at him, “Im gonna be just as alone as he is.”

“I guess you are” Inseong let out a sigh, “I don't understand why the dude cant get a date though he’s pretty good looking right?”

“Uhm yeah he's attractive.” Attractive was an understatement. You will never forget the day Inseong introduced you to Taeyong, It was around the time you two just started dating about two years ago, and you had never seen someone that good looking up close before. It wasn't the fact that you didn’t find your boyfriend attractive, you loved Inseong and he was a good looking guy but Taeyong, he was different. 

Taeyong barely spoke to you but he was always polite and had a warm aura unlike the rest of Inseongs friends. He was the one you got along with most and because of that Inseong had a habit of inviting him on many of your trips, much like the one you're venturing on now. 

You stuffed the empty snack packets into a trash bag as Inseong pulled into a very fancy resort one you weren't quite familiar with. Inseong was actually on a work trip that involved meeting with potential clients and partners, this did not include Taeyongs sector but their boss allowed him to bring you two along as a treat. Inseong’s firm absolutely adored him, which made sense because he was practically married to his job. 

“I'm going to get the room keys” Inseong placed a peck on your cheek and you watched him jog off to the front desk while you meandered around the foyer of the hotel. 

“y/n” you heard a chirpy voice call from behind you. Turning you were met with those bold black orbs and that ever so charming smile.

“Taeyong” you grinned back pulling him into a tight hug that drowned you in his rich scented perfume. 

Taeyong wasn't sure if you noticed his fingers linger on the small of your back. He would always leave you small signs but you’d never notice. His bright eyes dulled for a second when your attention turned back to Inseong who returned with the room keys. 

“Oh you're here great! y/n and I are staying in the room next to yours, do you mind taking her up ?” Inseong said, handing Taeyong both sets of keys. 

“What? You’re not coming up to see the room ?” you asked, a little hurt that he was already ditching you on this trip. 

“Sorry honey they want to do a meet and greet and tour of the resort, i'll be up as soon as it's over” Inseong gently stroked your head and you watched him walk off with one of the resort employees.

“I guess it's just you and me then” Taeyong smiled although regretting his words when he saw the fake smile grace your face and made your way over to the elevators. Taeyong was all too familiar with this scene. Inseong being busy, he excludes you from the rest of his corporate friends and eventually calls on him to babysit you. He wondered if you resented him solely because of Inseong’s habits. He tried his best to always make you feel comfortable even if it put him in the most uncomfortable position both mentally...and physically. 

“Well I'm going to take a nap so I'll see you around I guess” you pressed your lips together and took the room key from him. 

“Are you not gonna eat anything ? We could go down for Lun-”

“I'm good Taeyong, I'll see you later okay ?” Taeyong watched as you disappeared into the room and it felt like he had been punched in his stomach. 

DAY 2 : SAT

Taeyong lay in bed utterly exhausted after barely getting a wink of sleep courtesy of the screaming match that happened last night. Although muffled, Taeyong already knew it was about Inseong coming back at around 3am. ‘What meeting would go on until that time especially on the first day’ Taeyong thought as he rubbed his bare chest and stared up at the ceiling. Inseong loved his job and he loved socializing with people who shared that interest. To him coming home at that time absolutely plastered was normal, because it was part of his work lifestyle. 

Taeyong groaned and turned onto his stomach, burying his head into the pillow as he heard your sobs replaying in his head from the fight. He was tired of sitting around not doing anything when he knew for a fact he could treat you way better. At moments like this he didn't give two shits about Inseong, especially after he got the new promotion and made a new friend group of pretentious assholes. Taeyong wanted to be with you by your own choice, he wanted to hang out with you without Inseongs name attached to the reason you two were together. 

Just as he was lost in his thoughts Taeyong’s ears perked at the sound of Inseong leaving the room and the sound of the shower running. 

“No fuck not now please not now” Taeyong groaned as he felt shudder overcome his body and his underwear became slightly restricted. His mind raced with thoughts of you. It all came to him so quickly he barely noticed that his hand was already down his sweatpants as he buried his face further into his pillow. He wished he was with you. The things he would do to you were unspeakable. He wouldn't give a shit if Inseong walked through those doors finding him on top of girlfriend, he didn't care. 

You finished drying yourself off and put on a cute yellow sundress that hugged your curves, showing off the two piece bikini that Inseong told you not to wear around the resort especially when he wasn't with you. This was payback for the way he treated you last night. Not only did he ditch you in a foreign room for an entire evening, he also returned drunk out of his mind and blamed you as usual for not taking care of him. You wanted to at least enjoy whatever you could from this trip and if it meant looking hot and hanging out with Taeyong, then so be it. 

You made your way next door and rang the doorbell patiently waiting for your assigned babysitter. Taeyong swung open the door, dressed in only in a pair of black harem pants and a towel on his neck that he used to dry his hair. You took in the site of his bare chest, drinking in his pretty figure that matched his gorgeous face. 

“I'm sorry I was gonna go down for breakfast I was wondering….i’ll just wait outside”  you stuttered and you heard Taeyong giggle

“Come inside y/n.” 

You walked inside his room and it was surprisingly neat in comparison to yours. You felt kinda embarrassed at the state of your room even though most of it were Inseongs doing anyway. 

Taeyong continued drying his hair as he watched you scan his room, his eyes already on your figure in that goddamn sundress. His only thoughts were ripping it off until he noticed you were staring right back at him. 

“Your hair is sticking up a bit at the back, here let me help you” 

Taeyong watched as you approached his figure and reached up to neaten his hair. He really admired his will power to keep his hands off your body as you inched closer and closer to him. 

“Thanks” he smiled sweetly masking his dark intent and threw on a loose hawaiian shirt gesturing towards the door, “shall we?”

The two of you had a decent day lounging around the pool area and took a stroll on the beach before heading back for lunch. You never expected to bump into Inseong and his colleagues during lunch and the way Inseong looked at your outfit, you knew you’d never hear the end of it. He practically ignored you the entire time while he and his friends chatted away, even going as far as introducing Taeyong to a few of them but not you. 

Just before you and Taeyong made your way to the elevators to retreat back to the rooms, Inseong jogged over and tugged on your wrist. 

“I know we had it out last night but was all of this really necessary ?” Inseong gritted his teeth as he looked over your skimpy outfit. 

“I thought it was cute, not everything I do is to ruin your perfect life Inseong” you rolled your eyes and pressed the button to signal the elevator. 

Inseong let out an exasperated sigh and released your wrist before massaging his temple. 

“Just dont pull this kinda shit at the dinner tomorrow please, the chairman is going to be there.”

You and Taeyong watched as Inseong stomped away and Taeyong noticed that for once instead of beating yourself up about Inseongs reaction you seemed somewhat proud to piss him off to that extent. 

“I'm sorry you're always in the middle of all of this Taeyong” you apologized as the two of you stepped onto your floor and made your way to the rooms. 

“It's okay y/n it's not your fault, and besides I think you look ridiculously hot in that dress” he replied and licked his lips as you felt your face heat up with his bold words. “Also,” he continued as he scanned his room key

“I think you should own it, wear something sexy tomorrow, not for Inseong but for yourself and maybe a little for me.” 

DAY 3 : SUN

You looked at yourself in the mirror, smoothing out the classy black velvety dress you had saved for a night out. The dress was intended for a Valentines date with Inseong but that never happened because he had a more important meeting to attend. 

As you made final touches to your outfit you wondered if subconsciously you did also dress up for Taeyong. God the way he looked at you when he told you to wear something sexy, you hadn't felt flustered yet intrigued like that in a long time. 

You put on the final touches to your make up and made your way down to the banquet room. You already felt a bit awkward as you noticed a few people stare at you and whisper until you saw Taeyong. You barely noticed Inseong sit directly in front of him, all you could see was Taeyongs dark eyes taking every bit of you in. 

Inseong’s eyes though we're different. He looked annoyed but still got up to help you into your seat which was weirdly next to Taeyong instead of him. But then it dawned on you when you noticed that the name card next to him was the chairman. 

Typical. That was all he cared about in the end. 

Taeyong’s eyes were still on you as you took your seat, unbothered if Inseong even noticed at this point, he was in awe. Did you dress up because he told you to ? Did you dress up for yourself and maybe, just maybe for him ?

“You look gorgeous y/n” he whispered, his deep voice sent a shiver down your spine. You brushed your hair behind your ear and nodded a thank you, trying to keep your focus elsewhere. Although Taeyong was conversing with the people at the table something made you feel as if you still had his full attention. 

You almost jumped when you felt his cold fingers trace circles on your knee, his focus was still in his conversation but yours was solely on his movements. Taeyong lightly squeezed your thigh to test the waters, a smirk he indefinitely couldn't hide graced his face and he allowed his hand to move higher. 

You gulped as he began to move, completely entranced by his touch as you felt him trace more circles on your upper thigh until his hand settled in your lap. Taeyong moved his chair closer to you and the table in order to obstruct the view of a passerby or any suspicious eyes at the table. 

“You work with Inseong right?” a man said to Taeyong as he laced his fingers with yours under the table.

All of it was so incredibly promiscuous but it gave you an adrenaline rush and Taeyong knew you were completely on board when you squeezed his hand back and bit down on your lip. 

Taeyong grabbed your hand and placed it in his own lap, allowing you to feel exactly what you were doing to him at this moment. You sucked in a breath as you palmed him and he gave your thigh another squeeze, this time much harder, rougher than before. 

Eventually into the night you decided to excuse yourself and Inseong preferred it anyway. You couldn't believe how oblivious he was to the closeness of you and Taeyong that it only angered you even more of how he would really choose these fake people over his girlfriend for the night. 

As you made your way to the elevator you didn't even realise Taeyong had already followed you there, putting on his usual laid back demeanor. The two of you stepped into the elevator and it was silent. You wondered why he was so quiet especially after pulling that stunt during dinner. Completely confused you grabbed your room key but before you could scan it Taeyong blocked your path, scanning his room key and pulled you inside his room not giving you any time to process this. 

He was all over you, his lips his hands his body, you felt almost every part of him as he pressed you against the wall. He used his knee to separate your legs as he planted open mouthed kisses on your neck, practically growling into your ear when he heard a moan escape your lips. 

“I-I didn't do anything in case someone from dinner saw us” he explained as he found the hook of your dress but stopped to look in your eyes, “are you okay with this?” 

You answered him by practically ripping open his white dress shirt and ran your hands down his body. Taeyong smirked and moved you to the bed, ridding himself of his shoes and trousers before attacking your neck once more. 

“I'm sorry if this all moves too fast I literally can't help myself” he growled once more as you got undressed and the sight of you in your scantily clad underwear made him lightheaded. 

“Well its best we hurry the fuck up before that asshole comes back” you sighed as you pulled him on top of you. 

“Fuck I dont want to hear about him, youre mine right now” Taeyong groaned and skillfully unclipped your bra and rid you of your lace panties. You bit down on your lip as you watched him pull down his boxers and free his member, licking your lips unconsciously. 

“Don't worry baby you can suck it next time” he teased and without warning pushed himself into you with one brisk movement. The room filled with both of your moans as Taeyong’s hips slammed into yours, while one hand laced his fingers with yours while the other was wrapped around your throat. 

“Oh my God Taeyong” you cried completely in ecstasy thanks to the way Taeyong handled you. He was animalistic yet not hurting you in any way. His eyes burned holes into yours as he moved his hips faster and faster until you came undone and he followed straight after. 

Taeyong quickly cleaned you up and kissed you softly, his touches were much lighter as he held your face in his hands moving his lips gracefully against yours. 

“I'm going to end things with him Taeyong I can't take it anymore” you rested your head on his chest as he stroked your hair. 

“I know baby just do whats best for you, and just know I actually do like you like really fucking like you” he replied and he felt you smile. 

“You fell for me in three days ?” you giggled against his chest. 

“No baby i've liked you since the day I met you, these three days were for you to finally come to your senses.”

[byuntrash101]

PARAPHILIA - Part 1

Pairing: Dom!Baekhyun x You

Genre: EstablishedRelationship!AU, slice of life, smuttt

Tags: strong dom/sub dynamics, daddy kink, rough sex, degradation, name calling (slut is used a lot), deepthroat, body writing, toys and more~~

Raiting: +18 (more like 21+ 🤪)

Word count: 3.5k

Summary: Apparantly, the new intern has a crush on you. And it's making your boyfriend Baekhyun jealous... Very jealous...

A/N: First chapter💃!! I’m excited to show you this project! Never hesitate to give me feedback my asks are always open and seeing your reactions make me SO happy💖! I hope you’ll enjoy!! -Cat😽

Tag list: @lovebuginlove @ohh-baekhyun @bobohumyonlyboo @smolbeanmika @making-me-blush @wooya1224 @yixing-jaehyun @f4ncyvelvet @lalalala-lav @deligxt @xofanfics @byunsugar @dixnysustae @to-all-the-stories-i-love @artisticcgroove @myexoobsession ​ @geniusloey

Tell me if you want to be added/removed

PARAPHILIA masterlist | General masterlist

Paraphilia #1 : SADISM, Inflicting pain to others.

W R O N G   F E E L S  R I G H T

"Aaaah" you say as you feel the hot tea on your tongue. It's jasmine green tea, your favorite. You sit there in the dining room enjoying the warm sun of the afternoon. It's so relaxing, so nice after a stressful week of work. The new intern is very nice, but god is he a handful. He's just always full of energy but at least he is willing and wants to learn properly. But forming him is quite tiring. So enjoying this quiet time here is nice.

"Babe can you come over here?" you hear the voice of your boyfriend resonate from upstairs. You sigh and frown, annoyed. But you still decide to go see him.

He's in his office, probably playing the piano or practicing his singing skills. He was in there since early morning. You never questioned his wacky sleep schedule. Like he always says: "inspiration doesn't wait". You knew that from the beginning... He's an artist.

You push open the door and he's there on his computer frowning. What's wrong? You ask yourself as you pick up right away that something is off. You walk closer and see he's on your Facebook profile.

"Who's that?" he asks without a glance to you, pointing a finger to the picture of a recently added friend.

"It's Taeyong the new intern, I told you about him" you say in a chuckle. So that's what's wrong with him. He's jealous, you think smiling.

"How do you find him?" he still doesn't look at you.

"Huh? I mean he is pretty smart which makes things easier, but overall, he has a lot to learn it's only normal when you are fresh out of school. I mean when I started, I-" but Baekhyun interrupts you.

"I don't mean it like this! Do you think he’s... attractive?" you can't help but laugh at the ridiculous question. Finally, Baekhyun looks at you but it's only to shoot you a death glare. You stop and bite your lips trying not to laugh again.

"I mean... Of course I can't say he's ugly but I-" Before you can continue your boyfriend rips the black bob off his head and throws it on the desk. He immediately brushes back his blond hair, running his fingers through it. You flinch. Shit, he's actually upset about this.

"What about this?" he switches to another tab on the computer. This time it's your Instagram page. He clicks on the most recent post. It's a selfie you posted last week when you went out with Baekhyun, you liked your makeup that day and thought it was instagramable.

"What about it?" You genuinely ask. Your boyfriend sighs, frustrated.

"TYdragon95, is it his username?" Baekhyun asks, his tone has changed from cold to angered, you swiftly look at him, he's clenching his jaw.

"Yes I suppose so, he was born in 1995, so yeah probably..."

"Yeah of course it's him... he liked every single one of your pictures..."

Baekhyun proceeds to scroll to the other photos and it's true. His username is under every single one of them.

"Well, no, he didn't like the pictures where we are together..." he says in a cynical tone. You stand there next to him, silent, what could you possibly reply? Baekhyun chuckles coldly.

"He's probably, right now imagining you under him, his hand in his pants..." he whistles between greeted teeth. You laugh nervously.

"Hyunie, don't be stupid... he's just a guy I work with" you say fidgeting with your fingers. You know this mood. You know how angry your boyfriend can get.

"Really? Huh?" Baekhyun says, finally getting up from his chair. He stands right in front of you, only a couple centimeters (1in) separate the both of you. You are intimidated. He's so much taller than you...

"Baekhyun, please" you say in a pleading tone while taking a step back. Baekhyun steps closer.

"Baby girl do you like him?" he says in a low husky voice, sending shivers down your spine. Once again, you step back and he steps closer. You step back again, and he follows you, making you backup against the cold wall of his office, almost falling on the drums on your left.

"Baekhyun don't be ridiculous... I-"

"FUCKING ANSWER ME!!!" he yells throwing his palm on the wall next to your face. Your breath is hitching your throat.

"No Babe! Of course, not. I only love you" you say your voice trembling.

"Is this true?" his tone is somewhat softer. He leans in, inching his face close to yours.

"Yes..." you say softly, almost whispering.

"Maybe I have to remind you who you belong to"

You feel goosebumps in the nape of your neck. You know exactly what he means...

"Go in the room and wait for me there" with that he removes his hand and you quickly leave the room without daring looking at him. Without any detours you go straight to your room and sit on the king-sized bed.

You feel a familiar tingly feeling rise in your lower stomach. You don't even have time to think that your hand travels on its own to your crotch. As soon as your fingers press on your core the door slams open.

Baekhyun chuckles coldly, looking you up and down.

"You little slut you couldn't even wait for me, could you?" he walks quickly to you and yanks hard on your arm to make you stand. You wince in pain.

"What do you say?"

"I'm sorry daddy." You whimper. Suddenly he flips you over and makes you lay over his lap with your butt up. Without much consideration he roughly pulls up your t-shirt dress. His hand rests delicately over your clothed bottom as you are still wearing your baby blue laced panties. Gently, he strokes your butt cheeks with his thumb.

"Baby girl, you need a little reminder that you belong to daddy and daddy only. So, I have to punish you, you understand that, right?" he says as he slowly pulls down your lace panties. You simply nod quietly.

"So, baby girl I'm going to spank you 15 times and you will say thank you to each one of them. Understood?"

"Yes daddy" you say, already bracing for impact.

You feel his cold hand lift up from your skin. Then you hear the loud noise. Full force spanking your tiny ass. Lastly, you feel the pain, make you scream at the very first strike. It just started but already you feel the tingly feeling in your lower stomach grow.

"I didn't hear you baby"

"Thank you, daddy." You whimper.

"Good girl" Right away he spanks you again. You scream again, already your butt is burning. You can't help but to moan in between each scream. You feel each nerve of your sensitive skin.

"Thank you, daddy"

Baekhyun spanks again until he reaches 15. Your ass is raw,  the pain feels so good, you bite your bottom lip trying to refrain from begging him to fuck you right now. Because you know daddy doesn't like being told what to do, especially when he's angry.

He puts you back up and makes you sit up on the bed. He stands in front of you as he unbuckles his belt.

"Now you're gonna suck daddy off, to make up to him" right there he rips out his fat cock in front of your very eyes. You can't help but gasp and the beautiful sight. He was so hard, precum pearling at the tip. It made your mouth water in anticipation.

You look at him with hungry eyes and just nod while opening wide. Baekhyun smirks.

"Good girl" he says, pinching your nose and slowly pushing himself inside your tiny mouth. He doesn't stop at the first resistance, instead he pushes harder, making his way past the back of your throat. You feel the burn with each inch as he grunts loudly. You can't breathe anymore, not through your nose and certainly not through your mouth.

Without a warning Baekhyun starts to rapidly pump himself in and out of your mouth making your eyes water. You feel tears roll down your cheeks as you try to gasp for air. Baekhyun doesn't stop and skull fucks you even deeper, tearing your throat apart. You try to push him away, but he doesn't budge. He just moans louder using your face as his personal fuck toy.

Finally, he pulls out allowing you to breathe. You loudly gasp for air. Coughing, you look up at your boyfriend. He still looks pissed.

"Fuck babe, that little slut mouth of yours is fitted for my cock, isn't it?" he says trying to catch his breath pushing his blond hair back. You cough still trying to pull yourself together.

Without warning, Baekhyun leans in and his  hands reach for the collar of your dress with one powerful and swift move he rips it off your body leaving you in your baby blue lace bra only.

"Take that off for me" he says pointing at the bra as he passes his oversized hoodie over his head. You look in awe at the muscles of his back and abs moving to mesmerize you. He looks so good, he's lightly sweating from pleasuring himself with your mouth. He's stark naked in front of you, you gulp loudly, anticipating but also fearing what's to come.

"Lay there" he commands pointing a finger to the bed, you do as you're told and lay with your arms resting to your sides. Baekhyun then gets up and walks to the dresser. He opens the fourth drawer. You know what he stores in this drawer, you squirm in apprehension.

When he turns back to you, he's holding a red marker and two, no, three nipple clamps.

"Baby girl, you know you've been bad, right?" You look at him with scared eyes but nod. He sits next to you.

"This one is for allowing another man to think about you" he says as he clips the clamp on one of your nipples. You bite your lip at the delicious pinching sensation.

"This one is for daring to even say his name in front of me" he places the second clamp on your other nipple. You gasp. It feels so good, your watery eyes fill up with tears again.

"And this one is for reminding you who owns you" he places the last one on your untouched but very anticipating clit. This time you can't help but to scream and grip the sheets as the pain spreads through your core. Baekhyun looks down at you with a satisfied smirk.

"Hmmm baby, you look so pathetic squirming like that." He leans over you. "Does it hurt, baby?" he purrs as a cold smile spreads on his lips. You looked up at him, pouting and eyebrows knitted together and nod.

"Baby girl, it's only fair for you to be treated this way because you were very bad you understand, right?"

You nod, the tears finally streaming down your face. Baekhyun smiles in satisfaction again, he loves to see you in this state, wrapped around his fingers. He controls you, he owns you. 

Then, he takes the red sharpie out. He takes off the cap and writes on your body, first right under your collarbones, then on your lower stomach and finally on your face.

"Go ahead and get up to go see how beautiful you look."

You get up and wince in pain again as the gravity pulls on the clamps. You walk up to the full length mirror. Baekhyun wrote "cocksleeve" across your chest,  "my cunt" right over your pussy and finally "daddy's slut" on each of your cheeks.

"Aren't you pretty?" You turn back to him. 

"Yes, thank you daddy" you meekly answer.

You want to walk back to him, but he puts his hand up and stops you.

"Not so fast, baby girl. The punishment isn't over yet. You are not allowed to walk back to me... Get on all fours and crawl to me like the bitch that you are"

You feel the humiliation rush to your cheeks and spread to your body. But you obey anyway, you do as you're told. Your knees against the cold hard wood you approach your sadistic boyfriend.

"Good girl, now. Crouch and tell daddy how sorry you are" You feel the tears well up again.

"Daddy..." you start with your voice trembling, avoiding his eyes. "I'm sorry. I will never upset you again." 

Silence follows, you lift your head to look up at him and without a warning he slaps you across the face, almost making you fall. You rub your cheek.

"Gotta have to do better than that" he replies with the harshest tone. Now you are just sobbing.

"This little slut is sorry daddy. She doesn't deserve a daddy as perfect as you. I am nothing more than your personal fuck toy and a mere toy should only serve her daddy and no other men should be allowed to lay eyes on it. Daddy I'm sorry for being a dirty whore I will make it up to you I promise."

Baekhyun chuckles, visibly satisfied to see you dragging yourself down like this. You can't help but to let your eyes trail down his perfect body to his cock... He is harder than ever.

"That's right baby you are my pathetic little slut" he says gently stroking your still burning cheek.

"You know what baby? Daddy wants you to hurt as much as you hurt him by allowing this man in your life." He harshly grabs your face.

"So, you're going to stand up and you're going to show daddy how your pretty little face twists in pain" he says with a large, wicked smile.

You stand up.

"Jump, lemme see the clamps bounce."

You do as you're told and bounce yourself up and down. The weight of the clamp on your clit is unbearable and you just frown deeply in pain.

"Good girl now pull on the clamps on your nipples"

You pull on them harshly, the joyous pain makes you roll your eyes back and you can't help but to let a soft moan escape your lips. Baekhyun reaches down and starts to pump his hand around his big cock. He looks satisfied, nothing arouses him more than seeing you cry like this.

"Twist them"

You moan louder, it's difficult to contain your excitement as you feel your arousal coating your inner thighs.

"Good girl" he says with an evil smirk.

After a while, your body is red all over, complementing even better the matching sharpie.

"Now lay there you slut" Baekhyun says as he gets up the bed. You lay on your back and wait for further instructions.

Baekhyun gets on the bed over you and places himself at your entrance. Rubbing his tip against your slick folds.

"What a pitiful slut that you are getting this wet from being humiliated" he says smirking. And with that he violently pushes himself inside you in one go. You scream in absolute bliss, almost cumming to this one single thrust.

"Fuck, baby" Baekhyun moans.

He starts to move rapidly, you feel the familiar knot in your stomach form. He goes full force right away, making your fringe jump with each powerful thrust.

"Baby what are you?" he pants.

"I'm your slut daddy"

"Good girl" he says, grinding his teeth, rewarding you with more powerful thrusts and more overwhelming pleasure.

"You like daddy's thick cock don't you, slut?"

"Yes, I love your big cock daddy, it feels so good in my tiny cunt" You whine, feeling the knot getting tighter. The three nipple clamps jumping all over the place as Baekhyun fucks you deep and hard.

"No one can make you feel good like daddy,  do you understand?" he says struggling, moaning in between each word.

"Yes only daddy's big cock" you bite your lip trying not to cum as Baekhyun hasn't granted you permission yet.

"Good girl. You are daddy's little slut. Daddy's toy. Daddy's personal cocksleeve. Nothing more. Your only purpose is to pleasure daddy and make him cum with your tight cunt." Baekhyun grunts, pushing himself deep and fast inside you.

The dirty talk is too much for you, you feel so good and the humiliation of being reduced to a mere object sends you over the edge. You scream and moan as your legs shake into an uncontrollable and divine orgasm, your sensitive little pussy deseperately twitching around Baekhyun's thick cock. 

Your high hasn't even worn out yet that you feel Baekhyun's not-so-delicate hand slap your face. The burn in your cheek makes your eyes roll back as the setlling pleasure of your orgasm makes your mind go blank.

"I'm sorry daddy" you say half moaning, half sobbing, gagging on his slender digits.

"You slut, you came without daddy" he shoves his long fingers deep inside your throat. You instinctively suck on them as tears run down your cheeks again.

"You're such a bad girl" Baekhyun says, whipping his fingers out of your mouth to immediately pull harshly on your hair. You scream in both overwhelming pain and unbearable pleasure.

"Daddy I'm sorry" you say again, moaning as Baekhyun keeps on pounding into you, still pumping his fat cock in and out of you at an alarming speed. Stretching your tiny pussy beyond repair.

"Shut the fuck up slut" Baekhyun says as he repeatedly slaps you in the face, smudging the sharpie over with your tears. He picks up the pace again. Going even faster, destroying your pussy in the process. You moan in pleasure, feeling the knot tightening again.

"Daddy please slow down I'm going to cum again" you sob.

"I said shut up" he says clapping his hand over your mouth muffling your moans. Baekhyun has a really hard time containing himself. He feels like he's going to burst any second. As soon as he removes his hand you speak again.

"Daddy please I'm-" but you can't finish.

"Shut the fuck up I said you fucking  bitch" he grunts.

Baekhyun circles his hands around your narrow neck. Pressing his fingers on your throat and your artery to keep the blood from reaching your brain. Finally, you are silenced, you can't speak anymore, not even moan. You can only concentrate on the immense pleasure Baekhyun makes you feel. He grunts loudly pumping in and out of your exhausted tiny cunt. You feel like the knot will come undone at any second now.

"That's it baby! You like when daddy chokes you, right baby? " Baekhyun says clenching his jaw.

Slowly your vision clouds up and you start to feel lightheaded. Like you are high on the most enjoyable and addicting drug: rough sex with your boyfriend Byun Baekhyun.

"I'm going to mark this cunt now baby. I'm going to make it all mine. I'm going to cum inside of you".

Seconds later, you feel thick ropes of cum painting your walls and filling you up as Baekhyun releases himself inside you with powerful thrusts. His hair is stuck to his forehead, he breathes heavily as he wears a relieved expression, his eyebrows deeply furrowed and his jaw lossely hanging open.

As you are about to pass out from too little oxygen, the delicious feeling of being pumped full of hot cum sends you over the edge and you reach the most blissful orgasm ever.

"Yeah that's it baby girl, cum for me, cum for daddy" Baekhyun says with a carnivorous smile.

Your legs shake all over as you see stars from being chocked. This sensation is a whole new level. Never in your life you felt something this intense. It's heaven. You ascended to heaven.

As Baekhyun slows down he releases his brusing grip around your neck, and you can finally gasp for air. As you catch your breath your vision comes back to normal and the high fades away.

Baekhyun collapses next to you, visibly exhausted and satisfied. You scoot closer to him and rest your head on his glistening chest. He starts stroking your hair.

"Baby?" he asks, hesitant.

"Yeah?"

"You... love me more, right? More than him..." he says timidly. You can't help but smile Athos sheepish expression. You look up at him amorously surprised by the the complete change in his attitude. There's no more anger in his eyes as he cutely pouts.

"No babe, I only love you. You are my one and only" you say softly kissing him. He looks back at you smiling before closing his eyes.

PARAPHILIA masterlist | General masterlist

[chrisevansluv]

Here is the 2012 Detail Magazine interview with chris evans:

The Avengers' Chris Evans: Just Your Average Beer-Swilling, Babe-Loving Buddhist

The 30-year-old Bud Light-chugging, Beantown-bred star of The Avengers is widely perceived as the ultimate guy's guy. But beneath the bro persona lies a serious student of Buddhism, an unrepentant song-and-dance man, and a guy who talks to his mom about sex. And farts.

By Adam Sachs,

Photographs by Norman Jean Roy

May 2012 Issue

"Should we just kill him and bury his body?" Chris Evans is stage whispering into the impassive blinking light of my digital recorder.

"Chris!" shouts his mother, her tone a familiar-to-anyone-with-a-mother mix of coddling and concern. "Don't say that! What if something happened?"

We're at Evans' apartment, an expansive but not overly tricked-out bachelor-pad-ish loft in a semi-industrial nowheresville part of Boston, hard by Chinatown, near an area sometimes called the Combat Zone. Evans has a fuzzy, floppy, slept-in-his-clothes aspect that'd be nearly unrecognizable if you knew him only by the upright, spit-polished bearing of the onscreen hero. His dog, East, a sweet and slobbery American bulldog, is spread out on a couch in front of the TV. The shelves of his fridge are neatly stacked with much of the world's supply of Bud Light in cans and little else.

On the counter sit a few buckets of muscle-making whey-protein powder that belong to Evans' roommate, Zach Jarvis, an old pal who sometimes tags along on set as a paid "assistant" and a personal trainer who bulked Evans up for his role as the super-ripped patriot in last summer's blockbuster Captain America: The First Avenger. A giant clock on the exposed-brick wall says it's early evening, but Evans operates on his own sense of time. Between gigs, his schedule's all his, which usually translates into long stretches of alone time during the day and longer social nights for the 30-year-old.

"I could just make this . . . disappear," says Josh Peck, another old pal and occasional on-set assistant, in a deadpan mumble, poking at the voice recorder I'd left on the table while I was in the bathroom.

Evans' mom, Lisa, now speaks directly into the microphone: "Don't listen to them—I'm trying to get them not to say these things!"

But not saying things isn't in the Evans DNA. They're an infectiously gregarious clan. Irish-Italians, proud Bostoners, close-knit, and innately theatrical. "We all act, we sing," Evans says. "It was like the fucking von Trapps." Mom was a dancer and now runs a children's theater. First-born Carly directed the family puppet shows and studied theater at NYU. Younger brother Scott has parts on One Life to Live and Law & Order under his belt and lives in Los Angeles full-time—something Evans stopped doing several years back. Rounding out the circle are baby sister Shanna and a pair of "strays" the family brought into their Sudbury, Massachusetts, home: Josh, who went from mowing the lawn to moving in when his folks relocated during his senior year in high school; and Demery, who was Evans' roommate until recently.

"Our house was like a hotel," Evans says. "It was a loony-tunes household. If you got arrested in high school, everyone knew: 'Call Mrs. Evans, she'll bail you out.'"

Growing up, they had a special floor put in the basement where all the kids practiced tap-dancing. The party-ready rec room also had a Ping-Pong table and a separate entrance. This was the house kids in the neighborhood wanted to hang at, and this was the kind of family you wanted to be adopted by. Spend an afternoon listening to them dish old dirt and talk over each other and it's easy to see why. Now they're worried they've said too much, laid bare the tender soul of the actor behind the star-spangled superhero outfit, so there's talk of offing the interviewer. I can hear all this from the bathroom, which, of course, is the point of a good stage whisper.

To be sure, no one's said too much, and the more you're brought into the embrace of this boisterous, funny, shit-slinging, demonstrably loving extended family, the more likable and enviable the whole dynamic is.

Sample exchange from today's lunch of baked ziti at a family-style Italian restaurant:

Mom: When he was a kid, he asked me, 'Mom, will I ever think farting isn't funny?'

Chris: You're throwing me under the bus, Ma! Thank you.

Mom: Well, if a dog farts you still find it funny.

Then, back at the apartment, where Mrs. Evans tries to give me good-natured dirt on her son without freaking him out:

Mom: You always tell me when you think a girl is attractive. You'll call me up so excited. Is that okay to say?

Chris: Nothing wrong with that.

Mom: And can I say all the girls you've brought to the house have been very sweet and wonderful? Of course, those are the ones that make it to the house. It's been a long time, hasn't it?

Chris: Looooong time.

Mom: The last one at our house? Was it six years ago?

Chris: No names, Ma!

Mom: But she knocked it out of the park.

Chris: She got drunk and puked at Auntie Pam's house! And she puked on the way home and she puked at our place.

Mom: And that's when I fell in love with her. Because she was real.

We're operating under a no-names rule, so I'm not asking if it's Jessica Biel who made this memorable first impression. She and Evans were serious for a couple of years. But I don't want to picture lovely Jessica Biel getting sick at Auntie Pam's or in the car or, really, anywhere.

East the bulldog ambles over to the table, begging for food.

"That dog is the love of his life," Mrs. Evans says. "Which tells me he'll be an unbelievable parent, but I don't want him to get married right now." She turns to Chris. "The way you are, I just don't think you're ready."

Some other things I learn about Evans from his mom: He hates going to the gym; he was so wound-up as a kid she'd let him stand during dinner, his legs shaking like caged greyhounds; he suffered weekly "Sunday-night meltdowns" over schoolwork and the angst of the sensitive middle-schooler; after she and his father split and he was making money from acting, he bought her the Sudbury family homestead rather than let her leave it.

Eventually his mom and Josh depart, and Evans and I go to work depleting his stash of Bud Light. It feels like we drink Bud Light and talk for days, because we basically do. I arrived early Friday evening; it's Saturday night now and it'll be sunup Sunday before I sleeplessly make my way to catch a train back to New York City. Somewhere in between we slip free of the gravitational pull of the bachelor pad and there's bottle service at a club and a long walk with entourage in tow back to Evans' apartment, where there is some earnest-yet-surreal group singing, piano playing, and chitchat. Evans is fun to talk to, partly because he's an open, self-mocking guy with an explosive laugh and no apparent need to sleep, and partly because when you cut just below the surface, it's clear he's not quite the dude's dude he sometimes plays onscreen and in TV appearances.

From a distance, Chris Evans the movie star seems a predictable, nearly inevitable piece of successful Hollywood packaging come to market. There's his major-release debut as the dorkily unaware jock Jake in the guilty pleasure Not Another Teen Movie (in one memorable scene, Evans has whipped cream on his chest and a banana up his ass). The female-friendly hunk appeal—his character in The Nanny Diaries is named simply Harvard Hottie—is balanced by a kind of casual-Friday, I'm-from-Boston regular-dudeness. Following the siren song of comic-book cash, he was the Human Torch in two Fantastic Four films. As with scrawny Steve Rogers, the Captain America suit beefed up his stature as a formidable screen presence, a bankable leading man, all of which leads us to The Avengers, this season's megabudget, megawatt ensemble in which he stars alongside Scarlett Johansson, Mark Ruffalo, Robert Downey Jr., and Chris Hemsworth.

It all feels inevitable—and yet it nearly didn't happen. Evans repeatedly turned down the Captain America role, fearing he'd be locked into what was originally a nine-picture deal. He was shooting Puncture, about a drug-addicted lawyer, at the time. Most actors doing small-budget legal dramas would jump at the chance to play the lead in a Marvel franchise, but Evans saw a decade of his life flash before his eyes.

What he remembers thinking is this: "What if the movie comes out and it's a success and I just reject all of this? What if I want to move to the fucking woods?"

By "the woods," he doesn't mean a quiet life away from the spotlight, some general metaphorical life escape route. He means the actual woods. "For a long time all I wanted for Christmas were books about outdoor survival," he says. "I was convinced that I was going to move to the woods. I camped a lot, I took classes. At 18, I told myself if I don't live in the woods by the time I'm 25, I have failed."

Evans has described his hesitation at signing on for Captain America. Usually he talks about the time commitment, the loss of what remained of his relative anonymity. On the junkets for the movie, he was open about needing therapy after the studio reduced the deal to six movies and he took the leap. What he doesn't usually mention is that he was racked with anxiety before the job came up.

"I get very nervous," Evans explains. "I shit the bed if I have to present something on stage or if I'm doing press. Because it's just you." He's been known to walk out of press conferences, to freeze up and go silent during the kind of relaxed-yet-high-stakes meetings an actor of his stature is expected to attend: "Do you know how badly I audition? Fifty percent of the time I have to walk out of the room. I'm naturally very pale, so I turn red and sweat. And I have to literally walk out. Sometimes mid-audition. You start having these conversations in your brain. 'Chris, don't do this. Chris, take it easy. You're just sitting in a room with a person saying some words, this isn't life. And you're letting this affect you? Shame on you.'"

Shades of "Sunday-night meltdowns." Luckily the nerves never follow him to the set. "You do your neuroses beforehand, so when they yell 'Action' you can be present," he says.

Okay, there was one on-set panic attack—while Evans was shooting Puncture. "We were getting ready to do a court scene in front of a bunch of people, and I don't know what happened," he says. "It's just your brain playing games with you. 'Hey, you know how we sometimes freak out? What if we did it right now?'"

One of the people who advised Evans to take the Captain America role was his eventual Avengers costar Robert Downey Jr. "I'd seen him around," Downey says. "We share an agent. I like to spend a lot of my free time talking to my agent about his other clients—I just had a feeling about him."

What he told Evans was: This puppy is going to be big, and when it is you're going to get to make the movies you want to make. "In the marathon obstacle course of a career," Downey says, "it's just good to have all the stats on paper for why you're not only a team player but also why it makes sense to support you in the projects you want to do—because you've made so much damned money for the studio."

There's also the fact that Evans had a chance to sign on for something likely to be a kind of watershed moment in the comic-book fascination of our time. "I do think The Avengers is the crescendo of this superhero phase in entertainment—except of course for Iron Man 3," Downey says. "It'll take a lot of innovation to keep it alive after this."

Captain America is the only person left who was truly close to Howard Stark, father of Tony Stark (a.k.a. Iron Man), which meant that Evans' and Downey's story lines are closely linked, and in the course of doing a lot of scenes together, they got to be pals. Downey diagnoses his friend with what he terms "low-grade red-carpet anxiety disorder."

"He just hates the game-show aspect of doing PR," Downey says. "Obviously there's pressure for anyone in this transition he's in. But he will easily triple that pressure to make sure he's not being lazy. That's why I respect the guy. I wouldn't necessarily want to be in his skin. But his motives are pure. He just needs to drink some red-carpet chamomile."

"The majority of the world is empty space," Chris Evans says, watching me as if my brain might explode on hearing this news—or like he might have to fight me if I try to contradict him. We're back at his apartment after a cigarette run through the Combat Zone.

"Empty space!" he says again, slapping the table and sort of yelling. Then, in a slow, breathy whisper, he repeats: "Empty space, empty space. All that we see in the world, the life, the animals, plants, people, it's all empty space. That's amazing!" He slaps the table again. "You want another beer? Gotta be Bud Light. Get dirty—you're in Boston. Okay, organize your thoughts. I gotta take a piss . . ."

My thoughts are this: That this guy who is hugging his dog and talking to me about space and mortality and the trouble with Boston girls who believe crazy gossip about him—this is not the guy I expected to meet. I figured he'd be a meatball. Though, truthfully, I'd never called anyone a meatball until Evans turned me on to the put-down. As in: "My sister Shanna dates meatballs." And, more to the point: "When I do interviews, I'd rather just be the beer-drinking dude from Boston and not get into the complex shit, because I don't want every meatball saying, 'So hey, whaddyathink about Buddhism?'"

At 17, Evans came across a copy of Hermann Hesse's Siddhartha and began his spiritual questing. It's a path of study and struggle that, he says, defines his true purpose in life. "I love acting. It's my playground, it lets me explore. But my happiness in this world, my level of peace, is never going to be dictated by acting," he says. "My goal in life is to detach from the egoic mind. Do you know anything about Eastern philosophy?"

I sip some Bud Light and shake my head sheepishly. "They talk about the egoic mind, the part of you that's self-aware, the watcher, the person you think is driving this machine," he says. "And that separation from self and mind is the root of suffering. There are ways of retraining the way you think. This isn't really supported in Western society, which is focused on 'Go get it, earn it, win it, marry it.'"

Scarlett Johansson says that one of the things she appreciates about Evans is how he steers clear of industry chat when they see each other. "Basically every actor," she says, "including myself, when we finish a job we're like, 'Well, that's it for me. Had a good run. Put me out to pasture.' But Chris doesn't strike me as someone who frets about the next job." The two met on the set of The Perfect Score when they were teenagers and have stayed close; The Avengers is their third movie together. "He has this obviously masculine presence—a dude's dude—and we're used to seeing him play heroic characters," Johansson says, "but he's also surprisingly sensitive. He has close female friends, and you can talk to him about anything. Plus there's that secret song-and-dance, jazz-hands side of Chris. I feel like he grew up with the Partridge Family. He'd be just as happy doing Guys and Dolls as he would Captain America 2."

East needs to do his business, so Evans and I take him up to the roof deck. Evans bought this apartment in 2010 when living in L.A. full-time no longer appealed to him. He came back to stay close to his extended family and the intimate circle of Boston pals he's maintained since high school. The move also seems like a pretty clear keep-it-real hedge against the manic ego-stroking distractions of Hollywood.

"I think my daytime person is different than my nighttime person," Evans says. "With my high-school buddies, we drink beer and talk sports and it's great. The kids in my Buddhism class in L.A., they're wildly intelligent, and I love being around them, but they're not talking about the Celtics. And that's part of me. It's a strange dichotomy. I don't mind being a certain way with some people and having this other piece of me that's just for me."

I asked Downey about Evans' outward regular-Joe persona. "It's complete horseshit," Downey says. "There's an inherent street-smart intelligence there. I don't think he tries to hide it. But he's much more evolved and much more culturally aware than he lets on."

Perhaps the meatball and the meditation can coexist. We argue about our egoic brains and the tao of Boston girls. "I love wet hair and sweatpants," he says in their defense. "I like sneakers and ponytails. I like girls who aren't so la-di-da. L.A. is so la-di-da. I like Boston girls who shit on me. Not literally. Girls who give me a hard time, bust my chops a little."

The chief buster of Evans' chops is, of course, Evans himself. "The problem is, the brain I'm using to dissect this world is a brain formed by it," he says. "We're born into confusion, and we get the blessing of letting go of it." Then he adds: "I think this shit by day. And then night comes and it's like, 'Fuck it, let's drink.'"

And so we do. It's getting late. Again. We should have eaten dinner, but Evans sometimes forgets to eat: "If I could just take a pill to make me full forever, I wouldn't think twice."

We talk about his dog and camping with his dog and why he loves being alone more than almost anything except maybe not being alone. "I swear to God, if you saw me when I am by myself in the woods, I'm a lunatic," he says. "I sing, I dance. I do crazy shit."

Evans' unflagging, all-encompassing enthusiasm is impressive, itself a kind of social intelligence. "If you want to have a good conversation with him, don't talk about the fact that he's famous" was the advice I got from Mark Kassen, who codirected Puncture. "He's a blast, a guy who can hang. For quite a long time. Many hours in a row."

I've stopped looking at the clock. We've stopped talking philosophy and moved into more emotional territory. He asks questions about my 9-month-old son, and then Captain America gets teary when I talk about the wonder of his birth. "I weep at everything," he says. "I emote. I love things so much—I just never want to dilute that."

He talks about how close he feels to his family, how open they all are with each other. About everything. All the time. "The first time I had sex," he says, "I raced home and was like, 'Mom, I just had sex! Where's the clit?'"

Wait, I ask—did she ever tell you?

"Still don't know where it is, man," he says, then breaks into a smile composed of equal parts shit-eating grin and inner peace. "I just don't know. Make some movies, you don't have to know…"

Here is the 2012 Detail Magazine interview with chris evans:

The Avengers' Chris Evans: Just Your Average Beer-Swilling, Babe-Loving Buddhist

The 30-year-old Bud Light-chugging, Beantown-bred star of The Avengers is widely perceived as the ultimate guy's guy. But beneath the bro persona lies a serious student of Buddhism, an unrepentant song-and-dance man, and a guy who talks to his mom about sex. And farts.

By Adam Sachs,

Photographs by Norman Jean Roy

May 2012 Issue

"Should we just kill him and bury his body?" Chris Evans is stage whispering into the impassive blinking light of my digital recorder.

"Chris!" shouts his mother, her tone a familiar-to-anyone-with-a-mother mix of coddling and concern. "Don't say that! What if something happened?"

We're at Evans' apartment, an expansive but not overly tricked-out bachelor-pad-ish loft in a semi-industrial nowheresville part of Boston, hard by Chinatown, near an area sometimes called the Combat Zone. Evans has a fuzzy, floppy, slept-in-his-clothes aspect that'd be nearly unrecognizable if you knew him only by the upright, spit-polished bearing of the onscreen hero. His dog, East, a sweet and slobbery American bulldog, is spread out on a couch in front of the TV. The shelves of his fridge are neatly stacked with much of the world's supply of Bud Light in cans and little else.

On the counter sit a few buckets of muscle-making whey-protein powder that belong to Evans' roommate, Zach Jarvis, an old pal who sometimes tags along on set as a paid "assistant" and a personal trainer who bulked Evans up for his role as the super-ripped patriot in last summer's blockbuster Captain America: The First Avenger. A giant clock on the exposed-brick wall says it's early evening, but Evans operates on his own sense of time. Between gigs, his schedule's all his, which usually translates into long stretches of alone time during the day and longer social nights for the 30-year-old.

"I could just make this . . . disappear," says Josh Peck, another old pal and occasional on-set assistant, in a deadpan mumble, poking at the voice recorder I'd left on the table while I was in the bathroom.

Evans' mom, Lisa, now speaks directly into the microphone: "Don't listen to them—I'm trying to get them not to say these things!"

But not saying things isn't in the Evans DNA. They're an infectiously gregarious clan. Irish-Italians, proud Bostoners, close-knit, and innately theatrical. "We all act, we sing," Evans says. "It was like the fucking von Trapps." Mom was a dancer and now runs a children's theater. First-born Carly directed the family puppet shows and studied theater at NYU. Younger brother Scott has parts on One Life to Live and Law & Order under his belt and lives in Los Angeles full-time—something Evans stopped doing several years back. Rounding out the circle are baby sister Shanna and a pair of "strays" the family brought into their Sudbury, Massachusetts, home: Josh, who went from mowing the lawn to moving in when his folks relocated during his senior year in high school; and Demery, who was Evans' roommate until recently.

"Our house was like a hotel," Evans says. "It was a loony-tunes household. If you got arrested in high school, everyone knew: 'Call Mrs. Evans, she'll bail you out.'"

Growing up, they had a special floor put in the basement where all the kids practiced tap-dancing. The party-ready rec room also had a Ping-Pong table and a separate entrance. This was the house kids in the neighborhood wanted to hang at, and this was the kind of family you wanted to be adopted by. Spend an afternoon listening to them dish old dirt and talk over each other and it's easy to see why. Now they're worried they've said too much, laid bare the tender soul of the actor behind the star-spangled superhero outfit, so there's talk of offing the interviewer. I can hear all this from the bathroom, which, of course, is the point of a good stage whisper.

To be sure, no one's said too much, and the more you're brought into the embrace of this boisterous, funny, shit-slinging, demonstrably loving extended family, the more likable and enviable the whole dynamic is.

Sample exchange from today's lunch of baked ziti at a family-style Italian restaurant:

Mom: When he was a kid, he asked me, 'Mom, will I ever think farting isn't funny?'

Chris: You're throwing me under the bus, Ma! Thank you.

Mom: Well, if a dog farts you still find it funny.

Then, back at the apartment, where Mrs. Evans tries to give me good-natured dirt on her son without freaking him out:

Mom: You always tell me when you think a girl is attractive. You'll call me up so excited. Is that okay to say?

Chris: Nothing wrong with that.

Mom: And can I say all the girls you've brought to the house have been very sweet and wonderful? Of course, those are the ones that make it to the house. It's been a long time, hasn't it?

Chris: Looooong time.

Mom: The last one at our house? Was it six years ago?

Chris: No names, Ma!

Mom: But she knocked it out of the park.

Chris: She got drunk and puked at Auntie Pam's house! And she puked on the way home and she puked at our place.

Mom: And that's when I fell in love with her. Because she was real.

We're operating under a no-names rule, so I'm not asking if it's Jessica Biel who made this memorable first impression. She and Evans were serious for a couple of years. But I don't want to picture lovely Jessica Biel getting sick at Auntie Pam's or in the car or, really, anywhere.

East the bulldog ambles over to the table, begging for food.

"That dog is the love of his life," Mrs. Evans says. "Which tells me he'll be an unbelievable parent, but I don't want him to get married right now." She turns to Chris. "The way you are, I just don't think you're ready."

Some other things I learn about Evans from his mom: He hates going to the gym; he was so wound-up as a kid she'd let him stand during dinner, his legs shaking like caged greyhounds; he suffered weekly "Sunday-night meltdowns" over schoolwork and the angst of the sensitive middle-schooler; after she and his father split and he was making money from acting, he bought her the Sudbury family homestead rather than let her leave it.

Eventually his mom and Josh depart, and Evans and I go to work depleting his stash of Bud Light. It feels like we drink Bud Light and talk for days, because we basically do. I arrived early Friday evening; it's Saturday night now and it'll be sunup Sunday before I sleeplessly make my way to catch a train back to New York City. Somewhere in between we slip free of the gravitational pull of the bachelor pad and there's bottle service at a club and a long walk with entourage in tow back to Evans' apartment, where there is some earnest-yet-surreal group singing, piano playing, and chitchat. Evans is fun to talk to, partly because he's an open, self-mocking guy with an explosive laugh and no apparent need to sleep, and partly because when you cut just below the surface, it's clear he's not quite the dude's dude he sometimes plays onscreen and in TV appearances.

From a distance, Chris Evans the movie star seems a predictable, nearly inevitable piece of successful Hollywood packaging come to market. There's his major-release debut as the dorkily unaware jock Jake in the guilty pleasure Not Another Teen Movie (in one memorable scene, Evans has whipped cream on his chest and a banana up his ass). The female-friendly hunk appeal—his character in The Nanny Diaries is named simply Harvard Hottie—is balanced by a kind of casual-Friday, I'm-from-Boston regular-dudeness. Following the siren song of comic-book cash, he was the Human Torch in two Fantastic Four films. As with scrawny Steve Rogers, the Captain America suit beefed up his stature as a formidable screen presence, a bankable leading man, all of which leads us to The Avengers, this season's megabudget, megawatt ensemble in which he stars alongside Scarlett Johansson, Mark Ruffalo, Robert Downey Jr., and Chris Hemsworth.

It all feels inevitable—and yet it nearly didn't happen. Evans repeatedly turned down the Captain America role, fearing he'd be locked into what was originally a nine-picture deal. He was shooting Puncture, about a drug-addicted lawyer, at the time. Most actors doing small-budget legal dramas would jump at the chance to play the lead in a Marvel franchise, but Evans saw a decade of his life flash before his eyes.

What he remembers thinking is this: "What if the movie comes out and it's a success and I just reject all of this? What if I want to move to the fucking woods?"

By "the woods," he doesn't mean a quiet life away from the spotlight, some general metaphorical life escape route. He means the actual woods. "For a long time all I wanted for Christmas were books about outdoor survival," he says. "I was convinced that I was going to move to the woods. I camped a lot, I took classes. At 18, I told myself if I don't live in the woods by the time I'm 25, I have failed."

Evans has described his hesitation at signing on for Captain America. Usually he talks about the time commitment, the loss of what remained of his relative anonymity. On the junkets for the movie, he was open about needing therapy after the studio reduced the deal to six movies and he took the leap. What he doesn't usually mention is that he was racked with anxiety before the job came up.

"I get very nervous," Evans explains. "I shit the bed if I have to present something on stage or if I'm doing press. Because it's just you." He's been known to walk out of press conferences, to freeze up and go silent during the kind of relaxed-yet-high-stakes meetings an actor of his stature is expected to attend: "Do you know how badly I audition? Fifty percent of the time I have to walk out of the room. I'm naturally very pale, so I turn red and sweat. And I have to literally walk out. Sometimes mid-audition. You start having these conversations in your brain. 'Chris, don't do this. Chris, take it easy. You're just sitting in a room with a person saying some words, this isn't life. And you're letting this affect you? Shame on you.'"

Shades of "Sunday-night meltdowns." Luckily the nerves never follow him to the set. "You do your neuroses beforehand, so when they yell 'Action' you can be present," he says.

Okay, there was one on-set panic attack—while Evans was shooting Puncture. "We were getting ready to do a court scene in front of a bunch of people, and I don't know what happened," he says. "It's just your brain playing games with you. 'Hey, you know how we sometimes freak out? What if we did it right now?'"

One of the people who advised Evans to take the Captain America role was his eventual Avengers costar Robert Downey Jr. "I'd seen him around," Downey says. "We share an agent. I like to spend a lot of my free time talking to my agent about his other clients—I just had a feeling about him."

What he told Evans was: This puppy is going to be big, and when it is you're going to get to make the movies you want to make. "In the marathon obstacle course of a career," Downey says, "it's just good to have all the stats on paper for why you're not only a team player but also why it makes sense to support you in the projects you want to do—because you've made so much damned money for the studio."

There's also the fact that Evans had a chance to sign on for something likely to be a kind of watershed moment in the comic-book fascination of our time. "I do think The Avengers is the crescendo of this superhero phase in entertainment—except of course for Iron Man 3," Downey says. "It'll take a lot of innovation to keep it alive after this."

Captain America is the only person left who was truly close to Howard Stark, father of Tony Stark (a.k.a. Iron Man), which meant that Evans' and Downey's story lines are closely linked, and in the course of doing a lot of scenes together, they got to be pals. Downey diagnoses his friend with what he terms "low-grade red-carpet anxiety disorder."

"He just hates the game-show aspect of doing PR," Downey says. "Obviously there's pressure for anyone in this transition he's in. But he will easily triple that pressure to make sure he's not being lazy. That's why I respect the guy. I wouldn't necessarily want to be in his skin. But his motives are pure. He just needs to drink some red-carpet chamomile."

"The majority of the world is empty space," Chris Evans says, watching me as if my brain might explode on hearing this news—or like he might have to fight me if I try to contradict him. We're back at his apartment after a cigarette run through the Combat Zone.

"Empty space!" he says again, slapping the table and sort of yelling. Then, in a slow, breathy whisper, he repeats: "Empty space, empty space. All that we see in the world, the life, the animals, plants, people, it's all empty space. That's amazing!" He slaps the table again. "You want another beer? Gotta be Bud Light. Get dirty—you're in Boston. Okay, organize your thoughts. I gotta take a piss . . ."

My thoughts are this: That this guy who is hugging his dog and talking to me about space and mortality and the trouble with Boston girls who believe crazy gossip about him—this is not the guy I expected to meet. I figured he'd be a meatball. Though, truthfully, I'd never called anyone a meatball until Evans turned me on to the put-down. As in: "My sister Shanna dates meatballs." And, more to the point: "When I do interviews, I'd rather just be the beer-drinking dude from Boston and not get into the complex shit, because I don't want every meatball saying, 'So hey, whaddyathink about Buddhism?'"

At 17, Evans came across a copy of Hermann Hesse's Siddhartha and began his spiritual questing. It's a path of study and struggle that, he says, defines his true purpose in life. "I love acting. It's my playground, it lets me explore. But my happiness in this world, my level of peace, is never going to be dictated by acting," he says. "My goal in life is to detach from the egoic mind. Do you know anything about Eastern philosophy?"

I sip some Bud Light and shake my head sheepishly. "They talk about the egoic mind, the part of you that's self-aware, the watcher, the person you think is driving this machine," he says. "And that separation from self and mind is the root of suffering. There are ways of retraining the way you think. This isn't really supported in Western society, which is focused on 'Go get it, earn it, win it, marry it.'"

Scarlett Johansson says that one of the things she appreciates about Evans is how he steers clear of industry chat when they see each other. "Basically every actor," she says, "including myself, when we finish a job we're like, 'Well, that's it for me. Had a good run. Put me out to pasture.' But Chris doesn't strike me as someone who frets about the next job." The two met on the set of The Perfect Score when they were teenagers and have stayed close; The Avengers is their third movie together. "He has this obviously masculine presence—a dude's dude—and we're used to seeing him play heroic characters," Johansson says, "but he's also surprisingly sensitive. He has close female friends, and you can talk to him about anything. Plus there's that secret song-and-dance, jazz-hands side of Chris. I feel like he grew up with the Partridge Family. He'd be just as happy doing Guys and Dolls as he would Captain America 2."

East needs to do his business, so Evans and I take him up to the roof deck. Evans bought this apartment in 2010 when living in L.A. full-time no longer appealed to him. He came back to stay close to his extended family and the intimate circle of Boston pals he's maintained since high school. The move also seems like a pretty clear keep-it-real hedge against the manic ego-stroking distractions of Hollywood.

"I think my daytime person is different than my nighttime person," Evans says. "With my high-school buddies, we drink beer and talk sports and it's great. The kids in my Buddhism class in L.A., they're wildly intelligent, and I love being around them, but they're not talking about the Celtics. And that's part of me. It's a strange dichotomy. I don't mind being a certain way with some people and having this other piece of me that's just for me."

I asked Downey about Evans' outward regular-Joe persona. "It's complete horseshit," Downey says. "There's an inherent street-smart intelligence there. I don't think he tries to hide it. But he's much more evolved and much more culturally aware than he lets on."

Perhaps the meatball and the meditation can coexist. We argue about our egoic brains and the tao of Boston girls. "I love wet hair and sweatpants," he says in their defense. "I like sneakers and ponytails. I like girls who aren't so la-di-da. L.A. is so la-di-da. I like Boston girls who shit on me. Not literally. Girls who give me a hard time, bust my chops a little."

The chief buster of Evans' chops is, of course, Evans himself. "The problem is, the brain I'm using to dissect this world is a brain formed by it," he says. "We're born into confusion, and we get the blessing of letting go of it." Then he adds: "I think this shit by day. And then night comes and it's like, 'Fuck it, let's drink.'"

And so we do. It's getting late. Again. We should have eaten dinner, but Evans sometimes forgets to eat: "If I could just take a pill to make me full forever, I wouldn't think twice."

We talk about his dog and camping with his dog and why he loves being alone more than almost anything except maybe not being alone. "I swear to God, if you saw me when I am by myself in the woods, I'm a lunatic," he says. "I sing, I dance. I do crazy shit."

Evans' unflagging, all-encompassing enthusiasm is impressive, itself a kind of social intelligence. "If you want to have a good conversation with him, don't talk about the fact that he's famous" was the advice I got from Mark Kassen, who codirected Puncture. "He's a blast, a guy who can hang. For quite a long time. Many hours in a row."

I've stopped looking at the clock. We've stopped talking philosophy and moved into more emotional territory. He asks questions about my 9-month-old son, and then Captain America gets teary when I talk about the wonder of his birth. "I weep at everything," he says. "I emote. I love things so much—I just never want to dilute that."

He talks about how close he feels to his family, how open they all are with each other. About everything. All the time. "The first time I had sex," he says, "I raced home and was like, 'Mom, I just had sex! Where's the clit?'"

Wait, I ask—did she ever tell you?

"Still don't know where it is, man," he says, then breaks into a smile composed of equal parts shit-eating grin and inner peace. "I just don't know. Make some movies, you don't have to know…"

If someone doesn't want to check the link, the anon sent the full interview!

[oddsnendsfanfics]

Unraveling in the Sheets

Genre: Fan Fiction

Pairing: Henry Cavill/OFC

Warnings: Language, Sexual Content, NSFW

Rating: M

Length: Short Story

Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.

A/N: Spoiler Alert, there is smut. Be warned. It's there.

Also, I am no longer doing tags on posts. Since my list exceeds the tag limit. Please feel free to join the chat in place of the tag list.

Henry Cavill Master List

“How did you do it though?” Gliding the car into a free parking space, Henry glanced at Nell in the passenger's seat.

“How did I do what?” Eyeing him curiously, she tried to hide her gloating smile. She could be a terrible winner, even if she wasn't the winner, she had came ahead of Henry.

“You know what I mean, Nelly.”

He looked so silly, his new mustache curling when he laughed or smiled. Nell had to admit, if any man could wear the 'stache Henry did it well.

“Oh, you mean how did I suddenly leave your ass behind and finish nearly 50 positions ahead?” She laughed, crinkling her nose. “I told you, I've been working hard for this. Besides, you're too big. You move slower than I do. It's that simple. Maybe next year, you will finish ahead of me.”

“You're impossible.” Unbuckling his seat belt, Henry hurried to get out of the car and around to the other side, before Nell could open her own door. Nearly there, he frowned when she opened the door, stepping out of the Aston Martin. “You were supposed to let me open that.”

“I am supposed to do a lot of things that I do not.” Nell grabbed her hand bag. “I'll let you open the door, next time. You big dork.”

Henry was always the gentleman, even when Nell would rather rip his eyes out than speak to him in a civil manner. Not that she ever felt the former much, but on the rare occasion. Sometimes that's how things went for ex-lovers. The mid May air was growing cool, leaving a few goosebumps on Nell's exposed arms. She had expected to be back before now, which is why she'd left her sweater in the hotel.

“Well, happy late birthday. It was nice having dinner with your family. I've missed them.”

“They've missed you, too. I could tell that dad was happy you came along. He hasn't talked that much during a dinner since the last time you came over.” Henry smiled fondly. "I'm glad that you came, Nelly." Hands in his pockets, Henry sauntered along beside Nell. Approaching the main entrance, he held the door allowing her to enter. 

When he'd invited her for the weekend, he wasn't confident that she would come. Wrapped up in work, Nell didn't take too much time away from Dublin these days.

"It was a nice break from work." Tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, Nell bit her bottom lip. "I know that you are busy, but do you have a few minutes to talk?"

"I always have time to talk with you." Scanning the hotel lobby, Henry tried to find a spot for them to sit and chat privately. "Should we have a seat at the bar?"

"We could, but I would really like to change. Do you mind coming up with me? We can just talk in the room. It's probably more comfortable anyway."

"Is this about the wild boy?"

"Isn't it always?" 

Laughing, Henry pushed the call button for the elevator. Their son was truly something else. One day he would surely take over the world; Henry could see that coming from the day he was born.  To say Ivan was Henry's pride and joy would be a massive understatement. He lived for their son. This weekend having Ivan, and Nell, in Jersey had been fantastic. A short glimpse of what life could have been. The ding of the elevator brought Henry back from his brief fantasy.

He and Nell had split up several years ago, there wasn't much chance she would feel the same as he did. Lost in the thoughts of happy little family. Allowing Nell to step onto the elevator first, Henry stood silently with his hands clasped in front of him.

“So, Ivan has been doing well in school?” He may as well get this under way.

“Define doing well,” Nell snickered. “I get a call nearly every day from his teacher. The woman is impossible, but knowing our son, he isn't making it easy for her.”

“I was like that in school. Right up until the day I left.” Henry shrugged. The elevator gently bumping to a stop, he stepped forward to hold the door for Nell.

Muttering a thank you, Nell dug for her key card, leading the way down the hall. She loved this hotel, it was the only one she stayed in, if she could help it, while visiting the Island. A great view of the water on one side, the other dazzling with a fantastic look out into the city. The first time she'd ever been to Jersey, she had stayed in the hotel and fell in love with the charm. There were days when that felt like a life time ago.

Opening the door, Nell paused to allow Henry in. “Have a seat. Anywhere you'd like. Sorry it's kind of a mess. I'm going to change.”

The hotel room was anything but a mess, minus the few sketch books that Nell had dropped on the bed. Always working. Henry took a seat on the edge of the king sized bed, casually glancing at the colour coded notes and designs that Nell had in one of the open sketch books. Costumes. A few notes detailed leather armor and Viking era clothing. She'd done well for herself, since he'd met her. The same shy costume apprentice hiding out on set of The Tudors, was now helping drive forward the details of Vikings.

In the bathroom, Nell pulled off her dress. The fabric had became clingy after a while and she needed to be more relaxed. Running shorts and a tshirt would do the trick. Sighing at her reflection, she bit her bottom lip glancing down at her top. The worn coral Nike tshirt was her favourite, it was showing the love and wear in a few spots. Perhaps she should have picked something less frumpy? She was a busy, single mom she didn't have to look the part. Ah fuck, who cared. Henry certainly wouldn't.

He was here to discuss their son, not flirt with her until she gave in to that smile. Or got lost in his eyes, those gorgeous blue eyes – the left with the flecks of brown. His charm alone was enough to make anyone weak in the knees. Damn it, she needed to get over it. He had moved on. She needed to do the same.

Blowing out a breath, Nell reached for the door, pausing when she heard Henry talking. His tone told her that he was speaking to Ivan. Quietly slipping out of the bathroom, she smiled.

“Hold on, just a sec.” He pushed the screen of his phone, allowing the speaker to connect. “Alright, wild boy. Say goodnight to your mum.”

“Mum, momma, mum.” Ivan's voice filled the room. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Ivan. Are you being a good boy?”

“Uh huh. I love you. Good night.”

“Good night, wild boy. I love you.”

“Night dad.”

“Good night, I love you. I'm going to be back soon, you go to bed and I will see you first thing in the morning.”

“Okay. Oh, dad, can Kal sleep in my room tonight?” Ivan was fond of the large black and white American Akita. Henry laughed.

“Of course he can. You and Kal go to bed, now.”

“Okay, bye.” A little too quickly, Ivan hung up the phone. Henry laughed at the eagerness, he would talk to his mother when he got back to the house. Making sure that Ivan and his dog had gone to bed as they were told, with no fuss.

"Can you believe he is growing this fast? My god where has that time gone?" Henry rubbed his hands against his face. His mustache and subtle stubble scratching his palms. 

"Time is a cruel mistress." Rubbing her hands on her shorts, Nell stood. "Drink? I have a bottle of Johnnie Walker." 

"Of course you do." Smirking, Henry shifted on the side of the bed. “I had a look at some of these designs, by the way. They're magnificent. My god, Nell, you are so talented.”

“You're saying that to be nice,”

Shaking his head, Henry accepted the glass, resting it on his knee. “No, I am saying it because its true. You are one of the most talented costumers that I had ever met. Are you enjoying the job?”

“I love it.” Nell smiled, leaning against the large wooden desk in the corner. “The work is great, the people are amazing, and Ivan is really enjoying it. I'm glad we went.”

“Good, that's good. He talks about it, a lot. He really seems to love being there. I'm glad. Once things settle, I am going to try and come visit. I kind of miss it, Dublin.”

“You should.” She smiled fighting the urge to scoff and roll her eyes. Henry was always busy. He'd make it to Dublin, when Hell froze over. “So, how is work coming on this new character.”

“I can't say much, but I can say that I will be happy when I can shave.” He rubbed the mustache expertly. “It's not as bad as some of the beards that I've had to grow, but it's not my favourite look.”

“You look good with a beard. I know you hate them, but you do.”

Leaning forward to set his glass on the bedside table, Henry licked the whiskey off of his lips. “I'm glad to have that compliment.”

“Sure.” Nell nodded, tipping her glass to finish the drink. “Another?”

“Uh, I'm good.” Henry motioned to his glass. Rubbing his hands across his jeans, he furrowed his brow. “I've been thinking, since I am fairly busy the next few months, what if I keep Ivan for a few extra days? Once you leave, I will take him back to London with me, until I have to go.”

Shifting on the bed, her face warm from the second glass of whiskey, Nell sniffled and cleared her throat. “What about school?”

“What about it? He isn't going to miss much, is he? They're nearly finished up and I don't know how long it will be, until I see him. Possibly not until Christmas.”

All he wanted was to spend a little time with his son, was that so hard? His next move would have to be calculated, Nell had been known to stat arguments over less. If Henry wanted to avoid a shouting match, he would have to go about this carefully. Reaching for his glass, he downed the remaining contents in one large gulp. Sighing.

“I want to hang out with him a little. It wouldn't be more than three days extra. Then you get some time alone, as well. Nell, I know that you need a bit of a break. You work so hard and take care of Ivan, please.”

“If you want to, then I suppose I can't really say no. What kind of mother would I be, if I didn't let you see him?”

“Don't say things like that, please.” Henry reached out, his hand taking hers. Gently stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. “You are a wonderful mum. You know that.”

“Sometimes, I feel like I could do better. I really do.” Nell shrugged, allowing Henry to continue holding her hand.

“All parents feel that way, I am sure. I know that I feel like that, all the time. I guess it's natural, always wanting to do better, to be better, for our children.”

There he went again. There were times when Nell could not stand to be near him, other times she wanted to be as close as possible. Damn it. Watching him talk about Ivan and the few extras days they would be together, Henry's eyes lit up. His smile broad and the enthusiasm in his voice was one that dictated proud father. Nell nodded, only because she felt it was appropriate to the conversation.

Henry continued to chatter about how he wanted to take Ivan to a new exhibit at the Natural History Museum, in London. Leave it to the father and son, finding a day at the museum to be high on the list of fun. Nell sighed, continuing to half listen, half gaze at Henry in awe. One thing she loved – well love could be a strong word – adored? Enjoyed? About Henry was how much he loved Ivan.

Mid sentence about some Sir David Attenborough documentary that he'd watched with Ivan; Nell couldn't help it any longer. Leaning in, without warning, she grabbed Henry's face turning it to her and kissing him. Lips connecting, she stopped and jumped back as if hit by an electric shock.

Clearing his throat, Henry rubbed the back of his neck, but not pulling back. “I didn't know that the National Geographic was that exciting.”

“I'm sorry.” Hiding her face in her hands, Nell shook her head. Oh that had been a mistake. She had absolutely no right. None. Henry was crazy, if he didn't get up right now and walk out. If he was angry, then she deserved that.

Blushing, Nell shook her head. “Henry, I shouldn't have.”

“I'm certainly not going to complain.” He shrugged, leaning in his arm sliding around her shoulder. Nell glanced up, getting the nerves to look at him. Oh she had fucked up. “Next time, I would like some warning though.”

“Warning? Next time?”

“Hmm, yes. Kind of like this, close your eyes.” Henry instructed pulling her closer and kissing her. Nell sighed her body melting against him. She loved the way his lips felt on hers. Soft, with a slight force.

Straddling his waist, her arms wrapped around his neck, Nell's fingers laced together. Her lips leaving his, tracing along his jaw, nearing the sweet spot below his ear. A slight nip and he was an unraveling mess. Henry nuzzled his face into her hair, she smelled amazing. Comforting and warm. A groan erupted from deep in his throat, as predicted she had gone straight for that spot.

“Nell, Nell,” Henry cleared his throat, holding her at arm's length, “Janelle, stop.” Looking for any sort of sign that she truly felt that this wasn't a good idea, he sucked in a breath. “Are you sure about this? Because if we continue, I won't stop until...”

“I am.” She nodded firmly, “I don't want you to stop. I don't want to stop. Oh god, Henry. Please.”

“I need to know that you truly, absolutely want to do this.”

“If you don't stop talking and bend me over, I am going to kick you out and do this myself. Please, stop talking. If I didn't want this, I wouldn't have started it.”

A deep rumbling laugh followed, Henry rolled his eyes. God, she was something else. Who was he to deny a gorgeous woman what she wanted? Would this come back to haunt him? Probably. Did he care? Not much. Come morning they would once again go their separate ways, but that didn't matter right now. Right now, he could pretend that he had everything he wanted. And what he wanted was her.

Pulling her to him, Henry kissed her hard. Nell moaned, the force of the kiss was nearly dizzying. Arms around his neck, she rubbed her body against his, trying to grasp the friction that was created when she started to grind herself against his thighs.

“Henry,”

“Hold on, you need patience.” He brushed a bit of hair out of her face, “all in good time.”

Nell squealed when he stood, her legs desperately scrambling to hold onto him. In a futile attempt she huffed, when he let her go, standing in front of him pouting. Unbuttoning his shirt, Henry smirked giving her a heated stare. “Well, are you going to get on the bed or make me do all the work? Shorts off.”

Sliding the mesh shorts down her ass and along her legs, Nell made a bit of a show letting them pool at her feet. Stepping out, as slowly as possible, while lifting the old tshirt from her body. Allowing it to go where it would, as she dropped it. Sitting back on the bed, she could feel her heart in her throat and her stomach where her heart should be.

“Lie back.” Henry instructed, kneeling at the edge of the bed. Arms around her thighs, guiding her to him, he studied her for a moment. She was trembling as his fingers slid across her thighs, positioning her in just the right way.

“Oh god, Hen-Henry.” Nell's mouth was suddenly dry and her voice hoarse. His hot breath between her legs was tormenting her, in unimaginable ways. In anticipation she bucked her hips forward, trying to clench her thighs. Holding her knees with his shoulders, Henry chuckled.

“Eager.”

“Please.”

“You are...” He lingered, kissing the inside of her leg. “Gorgeous. Look at you.” He brushed his thumb against her. Nell whimpered trying to push further. “Hold on, hold on.”

“Why are you teasing me?”

“Because I want to enjoy the view, for a moment.” He shrugged, her legs lifting gently. A hand on her lower abdomen, as if holding her in place, he used the other to gently tease and trace along her calf. Without warning, his lips attached to the most sensitive part of her body with his mustache adding an extra sensation, Nell bucked her hips hard, shoving his face further between her thighs.

Nell's head was swimming, it had been a while since she'd felt this good from such an act. Sure, she'd had the odd date here and there, semi-serious relationships, but nobody could do this the way Henry could. He was a fucking magician, she was certain of it. Humming against her mound, Henry couldn't hide the laughter in his eyes, when she began to squirm and wiggle against his face. She was desperate and he was going to prolong this as much as he could.

Sucking her clit, his tongue generously lapping at her, he thoroughly enjoyed the show. Pushing his head as far down as she could, Nell was nearly in tears each time he leaned in, his mustache tickling in just the right way. Oh god, she gasped trying hard to find release. Henry was cunning, backing off at the right moments.

“Henry,” She whined, threading her fingers through his hair. “Don't tease me, I really need you to finish.”

“Stop being so impatient.” He was teasingly stern. Pushing her hands away, he locked his fingers with hers, holding them at her side. Lifting his head, he smirked, kissing up her body ending with another dizzying kiss. Nell sucked on his tongue, freeing her hands from his, she tugged him closer, pulling at fistfuls of hair.

Cleaning herself from his tongue and lips, she sighed. “I'm going to need more than that.”

“You're sure?” Henry paused, holding his weight on his forearms, resting above her. His jeans still on, he could feel the strain against the denim.

“Jeans, off.” She demanded, sitting up to watch. Shivering against the slight chill, her breasts on display giving him the perfect view of her erect nipples. Nell blushed under his gaze. She was not the tight, toned, and perky body she once was. She wasn't out of shape, by any means, but compared to Henry...

“You are gorgeous.” Henry complimented, his jeans on the floor, boxers being pushed down to join them. Stepping out of his pants, he stood at the side of the bed, in all his glory.

Nell licked her lips, reaching out to take him in her hand. Hissing under her touch, Henry involuntarily bucked his hips forward into her hand. Rubbing the head, Nell intently watched Henry while she leaned in taking him fully in her mouth.

“Fuck, Nelly.”

“Hmm,” She hummed, sliding her head back along his length. Hand wrapped around him, stroking in place of her mouth. Bobbing her head back down, she swirled her tongue around the base. He nearly choked her the first time she'd ever gone down on him. Oh how long ago that felt.

Dragging her tongue against his length, she felt her core tighten, with each moan Henry gave. His slight salty taste mixed with the aftertaste of the Johnnie Walker, Nell inhaled deeply through her nose, hollowing her cheeks around him. Gripping the back of her head, Henry tried to not force her too hard, as he began to guide her movement.

Happy to go along with what he needed to feel good, Nell allowed him control over her guidance. Her finger nails grazing the back of his thighs, she mentally checked the small victory when he threw his hips forward at the sensation of her wrapped around him and her nails on his skin.

“Good girl,” Henry mumbled, his head lulling back, his chest rising rapidly. “Keep it up, just like that. Oh shit,”

Nell's chest swelled a little, she could still make him feel good, even after all of this time apart. That was not something she would take lightly, even if this shouldn't be happening. Oh fuck, who cared? They were two consenting adults. Henry's legs quivered, his hands unsteady stroking the back of her head.

“Nell,”

“Hmm?” She glanced up at him. His face soft and his jaw slack, she could feel him tightening. The perfect time to stop her actions. “Not yet,” She smirked, wiping her hand across her chin, drool gone. “Fair is fair.”

“Jesus,” Henry grumbled. He had been so fucking close, the knot in the pit of his stomach clenched Slowing his breathing, he took a moment to think of anything else. Laundry? Running? How much longer until he had to renew his passport?

“Henry?”

“Yeah?” He snapped his head to look at Nell.

“Are we going to stand here all night, or...” She shrugged, a devious smirk on her face. Laying back on the bed, she curled her finger beckoning him to her.

“You're still sure about this?” Henry asked. His eyes on her, waiting to see if she had any hint of doubt or hesitation.

“I don't have a condom, but I'm clean. It's not like I'm getting pregnant, so....” If she were to get pregnant, there was going to be on hell of a hefty lawsuit against that surgeon.

“You're sure? I know that I'm...but I don't have.”

“if you don't want to, then I understand.”

“I do, though, but...”

Nell shook her head. “No buts. If you want me, then I'm yours.”

“Fuck, you're making this hard.”

Giggling, Nell glance down. “I think we're beyond things being hard.”

His body betraying him, Henry cleared his throat, she certainly had a point. Fuck it. What did they have to lose? Unless this, some how, came back to bite them. No, no he had to stop that. Give in, enjoy what was happening. It had been too long since he'd been able to watch her in such bliss. Bliss that he was responsible for.

“You're sure?”

Nell nodded siting up, opening her arms, “Come here.”

On the edge of the bed, Henry sighed, his large frame leaning into her. Nell held him for a moment, stroking his hair, the feel of his warmth against her sent shivers through her spine. Pushing him back on the bed, she bit her bottom lip, waiting for the go ahead. Henry gave her a slight nod, adjusting himself on the bed to get comfortable. Straddling his hips, Nell lifted herself to slowly take him.

Sheathing him inch by inch, Nell groaned at the fullness. This was her favourite part, taking him to the end, feeling him stretch her. Rocking her hips forward, she countered the motion sliding them back in the same tantalizing pace. Henry held her hips, pushing his up to meet her. Nell squeaked and giggled. She loved the way he hit all the right spots.

“You can touch me, don't be shy.” Nell winked, lifting her arms and crossing them above her head, allowing him a full view of her breasts. “Go on.” She encouraged.

His large hands cupping her breasts, Henry softly rolled her hardening nipples between his fingers, giving on a slight flick when she moved herself up on his length. Close to letting him slide out, she moved back down, her ass grinding against him.

The way her body moved against his was mesmerizing. Massaging her supple skin, from her breasts down her sides, one hand settling on her ass and the other on her hip. Henry loved the shape, even if she had changed a little since having Ivan. God she was stunning.

Hastening her pace, Nell rocked back and forth, up and down. Henry closed his eyes feeling every bit of movement, each clench. Taking in the sounds of her breathing, mixed with his, her small moans not going unnoticed.

“Henry,” She whispered, biting her bottom lip, leaning forward to touch her lips against his. “Please,”

Without having to be asked twice, he moved swiftly, turning them over to pin her beneath him. Nell sighed and stretched her arms over her head, the pull of her muscles caused another shiver. Her head now against the pillow, she reached, tracing the lines of his face with her fingertip.

“I don't know that I can be as slow as you were.” Henry nipped her finger. Holding back on his desire to pound her into the bed.

“Then don't.” Nell batted her eye lashes at him.

Somehow that was all he needed, that tiny bit of permission. Picking up the pace, Henry grunted. Nell moaned drawing her knees upward, allowing him an even better vantage to this position. As if the pent up emotions from the last few years, hours, minutes had been released the couple were lost in the sensation of skin on skin. The feeling of sparks and electricity coursing through them. Connecting them.

“Fuck, Janelle.” Henry hissed, his arm locked into position on either side of her head, keeping him from tumbling on top of her.

“Henry,” She squealed splaying her hands against his chest, tugging at the soft hairs. “Oh god. Please, don't stop. My god, oh fuck.”

“You are fucking amazing. Fuck, look at you.” Kissing her roughly, he sighed, steadying his pace. His hips slapping hers, Nell shook slightly her soft sobs of pleasure were enough to send him to an end.

Shaking with pleasure, Nell gasped trying to bring herself down from the high. Henry moaned, his head back and chest heaving. It had been a while since he had felt that good. Nell laid with her legs hooked around his thighs, no desire to move. Collapsing with his head on her chest, Henry allowed his body to rest. Sweaty and sticky, they laid tangled together. Neither one wanting to break the feeling.

Dosing in and out, Nell was the first to move. Her body growing heavy with Henry still on top of her. She needed to move, before seizing up. Pushing his head to the side, she giggled and kissed the tip of her nose when he lazily looked up.

“I need to pee,”

“Hmph.” Henry nodded, slowly rolling over. Allowing her to escape. Laying flat on the bed, while she scurried off to the bathroom, Henry pushed himself up off of the bed. He should be getting back to his parents, back to Ivan.

All thoughts of moving were squashed, when Nell came back, climbing in beside him. Her clothes still on the floor. Her body was comforting against his. “Hi,” she whispered, sliding in under his arm.

“Nell?” Henry laid with his arm around her shoulder.

“Huh?” Nell grunted, her face buried in his chest.

“I should head back.”

“If you want to. You can stay, I don't mind.” Nell yawned. Her eyes closing.

“Okay, but only for a little while.” Henry agreed, closing his eyes. In a few minutes, he would get up, shower, and head back.

With a start, Henry woke, a loud banging noise rattling him. Looking around the dark room, he squinted to find the source of the noise. Hearing someone whispering at a distance, Henry laid in bed, listening. Against him, Nell stirred, but didn't wake. Someone in the hall was talking, no doubt they had been the source of the banging. He had fell asleep, Nell wrapped against him.

Looking at his watch, Henry frowned. 4am. If he left right now, he could be back before anybody woke. If he left now, he risked Kal barking and waking the house. If he waited, he would risk walking in and having to explain himself to one or more person. Of course he could tell them that he'd ran into some old friends, had some drinks and stayed on a sofa somewhere. Too drunk to drive.

Shifting in bed, Nell sighed, her arm around his waist she snuggled in closer. She was content, who was Henry to try and disturb her sleep? He would wait an hour or two, before he made his departure. So what if he waltzed in, being faced by one of his brothers, or even his mother. He was an adult, if he wanted to stay out all night enjoying the company of a fantastic woman, then he would do just that.

Kissing the top of Nell's head, Henry smiled, sinking down further into the covers, closing his eyes.

Tag List Chat

[aurumacadicus]

Pairing: Phil/Clint/Tony or Tony/Phil

Title: Fearfully & Wonderfully Made

(don’t hate me)

As long as you don't hate me lmao

IT GETS REAL DARK FRIENDS I'M SORRY MIND THE TAGS

Fearfully & Wonderfully Made

"We can't go on like this," Phil said as he carefully stitched the wound on Clint's arm closed.

"We aren't killing Tony," Clint answered immediately, face a blank mask.

Phil took a deep breath, then let it back out slowly. "Clint. It's only a matter of time before it's not a cut or a sprained ankle or a bruised jaw. One day, someone is going to get killed."

"We can save him," Clint insisted.

Phil took another deep breath. He did that a lot lately. It felt like all he could do, sometimes, breathing in and out, concentrating on his lungs expanding, the blood pounding in his ears. He wondered if that was why he was only ever the handler of the Avengers, before--they all seemed to have hope that they could save Tony, even after all these years. Phil couldn't say the same, even though he desperately wished he could have the same optimism they did.

Maybe that had been because Tony had stabbed him through the gut when he'd confronted him at the beginning, though.

Clint finally looked down at his hands. There was blood dried under his nails. Not his, thank God, but it was more the exception than the norm. "It's not fair," he whispered, beginning to pick at his nails, digging the blood out from under them.

"It's not," Phil agreed quietly before he leaned in and used his teeth to cut the thread he'd been using to stitch him up. "Any other injuries?"

"Nothing that needs stitches," Clint admitted, getting to his feet. He paused, frowning, then looked down at Phil. "You really don't think we can save him, do you?"

Phil worked his jaw, considering. Even if he lied, Clint would see right through it. He always had. "I wish we could," he finally said, which wasn't a yes or a no, and he knew it.

Clint knew it too, frown deepening until it seemed like his entire body radiated dismay. "Let's eat and get some sleep," he said gruffly, turning to head out of their makeshift medical wing. "Steve's gonna wanna talk about what happened today."

"Clint," Phil began.

Clint paused in the doorway but didn't look back at him, only doing him the courtesy of turning his head to show he was listening. "What?"

Phil swallowed thickly. "I don't want Tony to die. You know I wouldn't be suggesting it unless I thought there was another way."

Clint said nothing for several minutes, but finally, he croaked out, "Yeah, I know," and kept walking.

.-.

All at once, the monsters stopped coming.

"...That's not good," Steve said after the second week, which would have been laughable, because they needed the respite.

But the monsters had been coming every third day like clockwork for the last two years, so the fact that they'd stopped... it couldn't be trusted. So they prepared for an onslaught, waiting for the other shoe to drop, twitchy and anxious and angry. They wouldn't be caught off-guard, wouldn't give him the upper-hand by getting complacent.

And then Phil left the compound. He was armed, of course, and he'd left a note telling everyone where he was going and the vain order not to follow him, but he'd barely made it half a mile before Clint fell into step beside him.

Stark Tower was a shell of its former glory, floors gutted and stained with ash. There were claw marks on the walls, scuffs from scales on the floor. Doors were torn off hinges or ripped out of walls. There were gaps in the staircases where Clint had to use his grapple arrows to get them across.

Cameras still whirred as they passed by. They chose not to think about it.

The workshop was quiet, dark. Somehow, that was more unnerving than the lack of monsters the past few weeks--even when Tony hadn't been there, it had been aglow with experiments. There were no doors left, safety glass shattered and scattered all over the floor. No movement, no monsters crawling out to gnash teeth or display claws or flash venom glands before they spat at them.

Phil drew his gun, and Clint nocked his bow, and they carefully stepped into the workshop to sweep it.

"Tony," Clint choked out when they finally found him, bile rising in the back of his throat.

Tony blinked up at them slowly, holding his arc reactor carefully in his lap. His clothes hung on him, and his fingers were blistered and bloody. His lips were cracked, and his eyes were red and swollen, and he did not acknowledge that he'd even heard them, gaze dropping back down to the arc reactor he was holding.

The light from the reactor was red.

"Tony," Phil said, forcing himself not to reach out. He could still see the line going from the reactor into Tony's chest. He didn't want to disturb it.

Tony lifted his head again, pupils wide and sightless. After a moment, he forced his dry lips apart, and Clint and Phil held their breaths in preparation of what he'd say.

"Kill me," he begged, voice shaking. "Before I put this back in and start hurting everyone again. It hurts," he croaked, tears rolling down his cheeks. "Please kill me."

"No," Clint choked out, reaching out to put his hand over one of Tony's. "Don't ask us to do that, Tony. You have to have another plan. You're the numbers guy. You've saved your own life so many times. Please, just one more time, and then we'll take care of you."

"I'm sorry," Tony whispered, dropping his head again. "They'll come back when they realize I stopped stitching together monsters. Kill me or go. You can't stay here."

Clint looked up at Phil desperately. "What if we got one of your old reactors, huh? What if we put in an old one. One they can't control."

"Just kill me," Tony whimpered. "Please, I'm so tired. I don't want to hurt anyone anymore."

"Tony," Clint whispered, pulling him into his arms. Tony went, limp as a doll, focus solely on holding his arc reactor steady. "We're not leaving you like this. We'll figure it out." He looked up at Phil again, eyes red and watery. "Won't we, Phil?"

Phil opened his mouth to reply, but even he wasn't sure what he was going to say. Then he heard the clack of metal on tile and turned, opening fire without hesitation.

[knockknockchicagopd]

❛ SECOND CHANCE ❜

❚❙ REQUEST BY ANON: Hi! I hope your day is going well I just wanted to say I loved your Hank Voight imagine and I wanted to make a request if that’s ok? If you could do one where the reader gets seriously hurt and Voight goes out for revenge and Voight gets even more protective of her than normal.

❚❙ HANK VOIGHT MASTERLIST.

❚❙ WORDS: about 1k.

❚❙ HEADCANON.

❚❙ A/N: this writing hasn’t been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I’m sorry about that. If you find a description about body or a word out of place, or something that it makes you feel uncomfortable / unrepresented, let me know by a private message and I will change it delighted.

❚❙ GIF credits: to my wonderful @sonsofeorl.

❚❙ Tag list: @melblacc. If you want to be added to my tag list, send me a message.

The stab took you by surprise. You didn't see it coming. Patrolling the streets on foot in broad daylight. You were distracted talking with your partner about going to Molly's after finishing your shift.

Then, you felt the cold blade trespassing your blue shirt and ripping your skin and being sunk deep inside your guts. Before twisting it to cause you a worse damage.

Your body went into shock as the blood drew out of your body, falling down without being able to hold yourself from your partner.

Trying to not close your eyes, feeling life abandoning your chest, the voices around calling for an ambulance became farther and farther, until you couldn't hear anything.

Voight and you broke up, after almost two years of relationship because of some trouble you had with him through the fault of Justin, but you never changed your emergency contact.

So, he was the first person to be called from the hospital.

When he came, you were still in the surgery. And the doctors didn't know how much it was going to take them in.

Hank decided to catch your attacker in the meantime, after the situation drove himself insane waiting for less than five minutes without being able to do anything for you. Just being able to walk in the waiting room from one side to another, like a locked lion.

And of course he caught him. One hour after, the man was handcuffed inside the cage of the Intelligence Unit.

Hank used him as a boxing bag, the ten minutes Platt let him to be alone with your attacker.

When the cops came to pick him up and saw that he was bleeding all around, Hank just claimed that he fell down the stairs.

But there weren't any stairs.

The first thing you feel, as you wake up slowly, is a hand tightly holding yours.

Using your free one to take off the tubes stuck in your nose, you move your head to the right over the pillow.

The mattress sinks close to your body, a second before that a pair of rough lips are pressed on your forehead.

You're disorientated, opening your eyelids to find Hank's crystal eyes.

You can't help but show him a fleeting smile, watching him lying by your side to wrap your body with his arms, carefully to not rip off any other tube from your wrist and chest.

“What happened…?” You whisper with a dry tone of voice, because of the lack of wetness in your throat, coughing inevitably.

“Shh… don't worry about that now, baby. It's okay, I took care of it. I will take care of you”.

After three days in the hospital, Will discharges you, trusting in Voight's words.

He's not going to leave you again.

He has asked for a couple days else to be with you at his house.

He has prepared consciousness every corner of his house and he has already gone to yours to pack enough clothes and other things you can need.

Hank's attention is twenty four hours on you, being sure that you take your meds, that you're comfy on the sofa, that you have your favorite snacks and your favorite drinks.

He blames himself.

The 21st District is the most secure in Chicago, in reality. But when you two broke up, you asked for a transfer to the 9th.

This wouldn't have happened if you would have stayed in his district.

You have heard him crying in the bathroom, in the middle of the night, waking you up.

Dragging your feet over the cold floor, pressing a hand against your side when you receive a lash of pain after the effort of getting up, you step out from the room to cross the hallway and place your ear against the door. The sorrow installed in your chest, being aware that he thinks this is his fault, you can't help but push the wood with your other hand.

Hank stands up as soon as he sees you, clearing his tears with the back of his fingers to pretend that he wasn't really crying. He's about to say something when you interrupt him, leaning on your tiptoes to reach his lips with yours. He doesn't move at first, but it takes him only one second to surround your body with his arms.

Your lips move in sync, spreading all the tenderness you can feel for each other. It doesn't matter how many months have passed, you still feel the same love that united you one day. And without breaking the kiss, he squats enough to grab your legs and lift you up, urging you to put them around his waist. You don't utter a single word, placing your hands on the back of his head as you slowly deepen the kiss by sliding your tongue in his cavity to find his.

“I love you… I've never taken you off from my head. I've been thinking of you every single second of my days, since you left”. His throaty voice leads on your lips like a soft and gentle touch, lying you down carefully back on his bed. Your bed. “I don't want anything in my life, but you. Only you. And I'm sorry for all the things I said, for all the shit I did to you, because you didn't deserve it”.

Keeping you embraced between his arms, against his chest, Hank spreads dearly and sloppy kisses all around your face. Taking his time. No rush. His thumb caresses your cheek, while he rests his head over the pillow. Nose against nose.

“Let me take care of you. Stay with me, please”.

Closing your eyes, you just nod getting comfier sinking your face into his neck. You have missed him, you can't lie and say that he hasn't been your first and your last thought after waking up every morning and before going to sleep every night.