#my eyes are gonna explode from staring at my laptop for a long period of time doing my hommork

[amelia-yap]

BANZAI!!!

[sweettodo]

TUTOR ⟿ KATSUKI BAKUGO X FEM!READER [pt. two].

Includes : thigh riding, slight smut, swearing.

Word count : 2584 - tried writing more of a story type thing, read part one of you want, or don’t. It’ll just add up more if you read pt 1

••

I drag my feet down the boys dorm hallway, my head fuming and my hands trembling from anger. I cant believe I have to do this shit. I’d rather watch grass grow.

I hesitate knocking on the door, my fist just in the air centimeters away from the door, I sigh and finally knock.

“Oh- Hi y/n!” I’m almost relieved it’s Kirishima at the door instead of Bakugo.

“Hi Kirishima, Bakugo here?” I drag, he nods and widens the door to let me in.

I walk in and stand there like a ditz in front of Bakugo, who’s wearing sweats and a sweatshirt. He looks at me with bug eyes. “Well look at what the cat dragged in.” He cackles, I roll my eyes and make myself comfortable, plopping down on the couch and placing my bag on the coffee table.

“Just do your thing please.” I mutter, taking out my notebook, chemistry packets and a pencil. An eyebrow raises, he smirks, cracking his knuckles and propping his elbows on his knees.

“Do my thing? Matter of fact, why are you here?” I scoff and it takes me every bone in my body to not get up and leave. But I needed to be the bigger person. I needed to act like a good girl.

“Can you-“ I take in a sharp breath of air before swallowing my pride, “can you help me?” Kirishima practically jumps out of his skin, he’s absolutely blown away in fact.

“Someone pinch me; this cant be real!” He exclaims, I roll my eyes and Bakugo smiles, standing and grabbing his bag, walking up to me and sitting down on the couch.

“Kirishima you can leave for now.” He shoo’s his friend away.

“Sure bud, I’ll be back later, bye y/n!” Kiri dismisses himself and leaves.

“You didn’t come to class today? I hope you don’t get me sick.” I state, he opens his laptop and glances back at me.

“You just love hearing yourself talk don’t you.” He crudely says, “I’m not sick, I just didn’t want to go to classes today.” He mumbles.

“Very studious of you.” I mutter under my breath.

“You want me to help you or what?!” He shoots.

“Alright- Jesus.” I retort.

I pick up my notebook and wait for him to pull up slides that he’s gonna help me with. The air in the room was tight. It was like if I made a sudden movement something catastrophic would happen. I was uncomfortable, I couldn’t quite tell how he felt.

“Here we go, you should start writing; what’s due this week for you?” He asks, he looks at me and watches as I shuffle through my packets. This was all late work. I was in shambles.

“This.” I hand him a worksheet about Ions.

“This is easy shit y/n,” he reads the questions out loud, “first, do you know anything about ionic compounds?” He asks.

“Uhh- I know a little.” I scratch the back of my head, he lets out a little grunt and snatches my pencil from my hand.

“Fine, let’s work on the periodic table, answer these two questions- the ones about reactivity.” I nod my head and start writing in the lines. “Let me read it when you’re done.” He sticks his hands in his pockets. This was the first time we’ve shared words in a very long - long time.

A few minutes pass, I feel somewhat okay with what I’ve written, I hand him the paper and he reads it, his eyes moving along the paper while I gnaw at my bottom lip in anticipation, I was almost nervous about what he was gonna say. My heart was slightly pounding, I was getting hot.

I slip the white sweater from over my head and looks at me in question, judging eyes staring at my white button up, watching me wipe my hands onto my arms.

“It’s sorta okay, just write more about why Calcium is more reactive.” He says quietly, returning the paper to me, I grab it and continue writing. The room was quiet.

“Here- is that-” I quickly stop myself.

“Is it what?” He responds, slowly taking the paper from me. ‘Oh my god’ I repeat in my head.

“Is it what?” He repeats, I gulp in embarrassment.

“Is it okay?” I mutter, a smug look curls onto his mouth, he leans back into the couch, my cheeks are overtaken with a pounding hot feeling.

“Looks fine to me.” He declares, I take the paper from him and stick it in my folder.

••

With his laptop sitting on his thigh, his body centimeters away from mine, he reads and teaches me everything I’ve missed; the hour since I arrived was moving smoother, he reads, I write, he has me answer the questions on the assignments.

His body radiated a welcoming warm, this past hour he inched closer to me; in result, keeping me comfortable while I sat pretty in my skirt and knee highs.

“Alright answer this and show me when you’re done.” I take the paper from his hand and begin writing. I don’t notice him peering over my work until I’m interrupted, “no, erase that.” Bakugo’s leg is now touching my own, his right hand grabbing my pencil from my hand and erasing a sentence, his wrist applying pressure against my thigh and I look at him, he slowly brings his head up to look up at me.

We stare at each other for a few moments, my heart once again pounding out of my chest, my throat completely shut. The tension in the room could cut, I couldn’t name what I was feeling.

His hand grabs the paper and the notebook that sat under it, the computer now in the table, still maintaining eye contact, I had never seen this side of Bakugo. He tosses it on the table, inches away from my face, something clicks.

His hand grabs the collar of my shirt, pulling me forward, I suck in a breath, my eyes widened and I look at him, he looks down at me into my eyes for a split second before enveloping me into a kiss. Our lips move in sync, my head tilted to the right while his hand hangs onto my collar.

My ears grow hot, my hand slightly trembles and the air in my body is completely gone, that’s probably why I felt so dizzy.

His hand hesitantly makes its way to the small of my back, pulling me closer to his body, my leg slightly on top of his thigh, he pulls me further over his thigh. One of my legs somewhat dangling and the other folded into the couch pressed against his own.

Either leg was around his thigh, I knew where this could head.

The kiss was so deep it was almost like that’s what we needed; this was so passionate I hadn’t even had this with a boyfriend.

My eyes were shut, his tongue rolling against my own, I let him deepen the kiss; myself doing the same.

The area between my legs throbbed. I tried to stay as still as possible over his thigh, knowing if I moved I would regret it.

His hand drops from the collar of my shirt, moving to over my thigh, his thumb caressing over my skirt while he gripped my leg.

I pull away for air and look down at his thigh which held me, I start to stand but he stops me, pushing me back onto his hard thigh, the action made me yelp, my already sensitive clit screaming for more.

He looks at me, his lips swollen and slightly purple, I lean back in and he bites my bottom lip, sucking it while looking at me, I was internally screaming.

He pulls back and yanks my hair back, my head gets forced back while he kisses behind my ear and down my neck, one of my hands was pressed against his chest while the other kept me still on his thigh.

“Baku-” I’m interrupted my his hand pushing my thigh down harder, the only thing protecting me from his sweatpants being my underwear; which was a joke. He had to have known what this was going to do to me.

“Bakugo.” I mewl, his hand slowly releasing my hair and I look at him, he had that smug smirk on his face.

“Bakugo- I’m going to ruin your sweatpants.” I mumble, trying to stand again, he does the same thing as before, finally getting a whimper out of me.

“What if that’s what I want?” I stare at him with wide eyes, he now has both hands on my waist, his grip tight as he creates a friction between me and his thigh; I gasp.

“I thought you hated me.” I retort; he bites his bottom lip.

“I do.” He chuckles, bouncing his leg twice, my mouth drops open.

“I wish I could say the same for you though, do you hate me y/n?” His hands slowly moving me back and fourth over his thigh, I bite my lip, my face in a twisted lust.

“I do.” I pant, he raises an eyebrow.

“If I lift you off of my thigh right now, is it gonna be soaked?” I thank my skirt for covering his thigh for the time being.

“Shut up. I hate you and you fucking know it.” He smiles and attacks my lower neck with bites, i unbutton a few buttons of my shirt, ushering him to go lower, I couldn’t have everyone put two and two together.

He leaves hickies all over my boobs, his leg slightly bouncing in the process, I was a mess. I didn’t know I was this weak willed.

“Bakugo can you leave anymore bruises?” I sarcastically ask, he pulls back and whispers into my ear.

“Do you want to cum on my thigh?” I swallow hard and keep quiet.

“Well, if you keep bouncing I might have to.” I chuckle, his cheeks grow pink from my response.

He grabs me and throws his legs onto the couch, “ride my thigh.” He purrs. I lean over him, my arms thrown over his shoulders.

“I don’t want to ruin your pants.”

“Really? I want you to fucking soak them.” That’s all he really needed to say to me, I slowly grind against his thigh, he kisses my jawline and little whimpers are being thrown out of my mouth.

My shirt half unbuttoned, my hands on his chest, he watches me in amazement while I unravel against his leg.

It didn’t take long for me to come close to orgasming; breathing heavy, staring at Bakugo while he watched me grind against his leg for his own pleasure. “How close are you?” He asks.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” I giggle. He smiles and we start making out again, messily making out didn’t help my cause, the hot coil in my body builds up pressure before exploding, my thighs quivering, my head drops to his shoulder and I twitch, my body washed over with heat and tingles as I breathe heavy into Bakugo’s shoulder.

“That was fast.” He states.

“Don’t talk to me right now.” I pant, the pressure of his thigh making me continue twitching, I didn’t even want to see his leg right now.

“Funny for you to say that after you just used me as your toy.” I muster up energy and courage to bring my head up, my hand landing around his throat, his mouth opens into a smile. I only tighten my grip, my fingers turning white.

“And I’ll do it again. You’re a useful toy.” I tighten around his throat, he bites onto his bottom lip, his head slightly tilted back. I lift up over his thigh.

“Spit in my mouth.” My eyes widen, I send him a evil smirk, he really wanted me to do this to him? Was he serious?

“Yeah?” I ask, he sends me a ‘mhmm’.

I let spit roll off my tongue and into his mouth, his mouth open, allowing me to do this sin.

I lean back down and kiss him, this was hot. I needed to stop now before I decided to go all the way with him. I’d go back to hating him later.

*knock knock*

I gasp, jumping off him, only getting a glance at his completely soaked thigh. Buttoning my shirt so fast I even surprised myself at how fast I did it. He throws his legs off the couch, standing and walking into the bathroom. I see the spikey red haired man walk in and I smile.

“How’s studying?” He asks. I shrug.

“As good as it can be, I’ve only wanted to kill him a few times.” I wink, he laughs.

“Wheres the bastard anyways?”

“I- Uhhh, bathroom.” I answer, seconds later, Bakugo walks out with basketball shorts.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, plopping farther away from me on the couch.

“I said I’d be back later, we still have to work on our project.” Kirishima tosses his bag down onto the table.

“Why is your lip purple? Did you two fight?” He steps close to me, examining my face, I blush.

“Yeah I punched her in the face for being a dumb bitch.” Bakugo growls.

I stand and start packing up my things silently, I needed to get back to my room and look at myself in the mirror besides anyone sees me.

“I’ll be going, see you Kiri!” I quickly shout.

“Yeah! See you at dinner!” ‘Oh fuck! Dinner!’ I pound my fist into my head.

••

“No no no!” I whine into the mirror of my bathroom, my bottom lip had an uneven purple bruise; this is what I wanted to avoid. I begin unbuttoning my shirt, a plethora of purple bruises all over my chest.

“This piece of shit!” I shout; i head to my dresser, swinging it open and finding a sweatshirt, this must do for now.

••

A sweatshirt and shorts is what I walked into the cafeteria wearing; walking side to side with Momo and Mina, we all chat and get our dinner.

“Why is your lip so fucked up!” Kyoka shouts once we sit at the table; there the issue blossoms.

“Oh my god! I didn’t even notice!” Mina bellows, rubbing her finger over my chin, examining me. This is terrible.

“You’re causing a scene...” I mumble, beyond embarrassed, more of the girls were staring.

“That only happens when-”

“Hey! Shitface!” I look to my right and see Bakugo, wearing the same as when I left him.

“What the fuck do you want?” I spit, the girls fall into immediate silence.

“You left this.” He grumbles, why would he do this right now.

“Yeah right.” I snatch the paper from his gross hands and he walks away.

The girls stare at me in utter shock. They weren’t stupid, they immediately caught wind of what just happened.

“Did you two fight?!” Tsuyu shrieks.

I’m speechless, it feels as if everyone’s eyes are looking at me. Why couldn’t I get mad like usual? Where was my defense?

“Yes! Jesus! There, are you guys done?” I grit. “I’d kill him already if I wouldn’t get in trouble for it!”

Did I mean that?

I quickly shove food down my throat; not even finishing it all before I stand and quickly leave the cafeteria. I needed to get my priorities straight. What the fuck just happened to me.

[peachyteabuck]

explosion uncontained

summary: Bad news is Bucky fucked up big time and now you’re seriously injured. Good news is Natasha knows the perfect way to apologize. 

pairing: Bucky Barnes x Natasha Romanoff x Reader

words: 3,349

trigger warnings: Sub Bucky, dom Natasha, orgasm denial, mommy kink, canon-level violence, cock rings. 

notes/other: This was done for @lesbian-deadpool ‘s pride parade challenge. My prompt was “Please don’t threaten me with a knife. I’ll get horny” and has been bolded within the fic!!

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

Bucky Barnes has fucked up. Bucky Barnes has not only fucked up, but he has also been the root cause of a sizable gash in your right shoulder and an entire patch of skin being burned off that starts at your left calf and curls around you until it reaches your belly button.

He knows this. He knew this before the bomb blew up, and he certainly knows this now, as Natasha paces around their shared room and chews off chunks of skin from her bottom lip.

“You fucking dumbass!” She yells. “You knew you were defying orders, but no! Of course, you had to be the fucking hero.” She pauses to sigh before going back to her incessant movements. “And now you’ve injured the best fucking hacker we have. Do you know how much political capital I had to burn to get her out there with us?”

Natasha’s teeth are barred, eyes firey and skin red from lack of oxygen. Bucky’s never seen her this pissed, and he’s terrified. And a little hard. But mostly terrified.

“I’m so sorry,” He tries to reconcile. “I didn’t-”

It doesn’t work, and before he can finish his thought Natasha’s got the sharpened dagger she keeps strapped to her thigh and points at the center of his chest with her free hand pressed into the back of his head.

Bucky smirks despite how much he knows he’s about to get his ass beat. “Please don’t threaten me with a knife. I’ll get horny.”

Despite herself, Natasha openly laughs. “As if you’re not hard already.”

There’s a beat of silence before she goes back to scowling at the love of your life. Bucky gulps as he notices her face changing from amused to enraged.

“You’re a fucking dumbass if you think I’m dumb ass enough to believe that bullshit,” she sighs with the knife pointed to Bucky’s chest. She doesn’t know whether she’s exhausted herself after, what, more than five hours of screaming post-five day non-stop mission? or just needs a break. “I’m going to check up on her.” Bucky stands, but sits back down once he sees Natasha’s glare. “You stay here, and don’t move a fucking muscle.”

Natasha finds you easily in the large hospital wing- you’re the only patient without a single attendant. Her heart almost stops, thinking that between when they had arrived and that very moment your heart had stopped beating and your skin had gone cold. As she gets closer, though, she sees you’re awake and doing something on your laptop. She watches you for a second as you silently and furiously pluck strings of code together, trying to figure out exactly what you’re typing and how your eyes move back and forth so fast.

A crash from a room far away breaks the spell. You both look over to see what’s wrong (turns out, nothing), and you spot her as she goes closer to the curtain. Still, you don’t speak until she’s seated next to you and taking a bite out of your uneaten grilled cheese.

“So, what brings you down to these parts of town?”

She shrugs, ignoring your bad joke in favor of another bite. “Just wanted to check up on you.”

You laugh a little, just a sharp exhale through your nostril. Still, you wince in pain. Natasha notices but doesn’t comment. “Ya know, exactly as well as one can hope after having a bomb explode in your face.”

She takes a look at your vital signs, all good, before answering. “Yeah, I mean…” a pause. The quiet air seems heavy as she rubs her eyebrows. “I still don’t know how to apologize. Barnes made the wrong call, and he was totally in the wrong, but-”

“Then why isn’t he apologizing to me?”

Natasha hasn’t spent much time with you, and has a hard time knowing when you’re joking or not. Your sense of humor is even drier than hers, but she can sense a hint of mischief behind your eyes as you stare her down.

“I made him stay in our room.”

“Like a child? Is he in time out or something?”

“If he’s gonna act like one, I’m gonna treat him like one.”

“Except when it comes to holding him accountable for his actions…”

She laughs outwardly now. “Oh, trust me. He’s going to apologize.”

You close your laptop and push the tray attached to the uncomfortable hospital bed. Carefully you fold your body and lean to the side. At a few points the burn rubs into the sheets the wrong way or “And how is he going to do that?”

Natasha’s caught on now. She relaxes into the plastic chair, failing to hide her displeasure at the high-pitched noise it makes as she places both feet on top of the blanket obviously taken from your own apartment. It’s thick with fringe, a desert scene woven onto it. The mix of warm colors seems to reflect your wit, sparks running across your skin with every sarcastic comeback and cheap dig. It stands out against the drab, gray-blue of the room, almost as bold as you.

“I don’t know, we’ll figure something out,” she smirks. “Trust me, I can handle him.”

“Can,” you ask, firmly meeting her piercing gaze with your own. “Or will?”

Natasha smiles wider than Tennessee. “Will.”

You’re discharged about a month later, the burn being more serious than initially guessed and the lung damage causing you to wake up in the middle of the night not being able to breathe multiple times. You still have trouble going up stairs and standing up for long periods of time, and the burns still hurts like hell, and the gash in your shoulder won’t allow you to carry a backpack or sit up without pain, but at least you were cleared to be out on your own again. It’s nice, to say the least. Being in a place without privacy isn’t something you particularly like, and being at the whim of nurses and doctors doesn’t please you all that much either.

Still, it’s almost nice to see someone right as you’re about to leave with your heavy duffel bag and your equally heavy backpack. It’s less nice when you realize it’s the reason you were in the hospital in the first place.

Before you can tell him to fuck off, though, he immediately starts spewing any apology can think of.

“I understand what I did was wrong and I’m so so so so sorry and I haven’t stopped thinking about how I literally put you out of work for a month and yes Tony did yell at me about his best hacker not being able to work and I’m still so sorry and Natasha yelled at me in four different languages and I’m pretty sure one of them was Latin and please I just want to help you bring up your stuff because it’s the least I can do and-” he pauses to inhale, lungs starved of oxygen - similar to you being starved of the sweet, sweet silence of being alone. You feel it’s easier to just let him help you, let him take up your heavy crap and then tell him to fuck off until you have to explain something tech-y to him in a meeting.

You shrug, dropping your duffel bag on the ground and handing him the backpack. He carefully grabs both of them and silently follows you into the elevator, leaning against the back wall as you push the button corresponding to your floor and lean against the wall. The jagged wound doesn’t feel as bad as when you got it, but you still let out a small groan when it hits the cold material.

Bucky, desperate to relieve you of all the pain you’ve ever felt and will ever feel, tries to start a conversation. “So, the high thirties. That’s what, the section for the computer nerds?”

You almost make a joke about being able to turn on a laptop not making you a computer nerd, but you laughing too much would hurt and might cause you to have a coughing fit, which Bucky would have to save you from and then you’d be in debt to him.

“Yeah, computer science-related stuff,” you sigh, wincing a little. “Heads of computer science-stuff actually. Statistics, data-analysis, computer science.”

The rest of the ride to your apartment is quiet, almost painfully so. Each time you try to start a conversation Bucky seems to avoid answering with more than a few words, his eyes never meeting your own.

Still, he follows dutifully into your bedroom where you fall short of instructing him to place your things across from your messy bed – your vocal cords unable to move as you spy the most beautiful woman you’ve ever met in front of you.

You don’t know what to say when you see Natasha leaning on your desk, staring at your knick-knacks and loose papers. For some reason you almost offer her a cup of tea.

“Now, James here,” she gestures to the man behind you, who has since placed your bag gingerly on your bed and is now standing awkwardly in the middle of your bedroom. “Has to find some way to make up for his horrendous mistake back during the mission.”

You gulp and fidget with your hands as you speak. “It’s fine, really, I’m o-“

Natasha removes one hand from her dress pants and holds it up to stop you. “No, it is not okay. I don’t like to leave the mistakes I’m responsible for,” she glares at Bucky, who you do not see but still know is cowering like a puppy whose peed on the carpet. “Left uncleaned. I request that you meet Bucky and I in our apartment tonight after my meeting with the Secretary of State. Say, about eight?”

You nod, mouth too dry to form speech.

Natasha smiles, walking behind you and wrapping a possessive arm around Bucky’s middle. “Perfect, see you then.”

And not with a shout, but with a whisper, they are both gone.

At 7:58:36 you find yourself dressed in the easiest thing to slip on without too much pain – a large t-shirt and some athletic shorts you’ve had since you played volleyball in college – standing in front of the door to Natasha and Bucky’s shared apartment.

Right before you can knock your phone buzzes with a text, one from Natasha that tells you the door is unlocked and that she and Bucky are just in the bedroom.

With that, you take a deep breath, and step inside.

Bucky’s kneeling with his upper half hunched forward and his hands tied behind his back. The only thing keeping him in such an uncomfortable position being Natasha’s heel pressed into the small of his spine.

“Now,” she begins to tell them. You’re sitting on the edge of their large bed, hands already twisting in the sheets. Maybe it’s nervousness, maybe it’s anticipation, maybe it’s fear. Something flutters in your chest at the curve of Natasha’s lips around her words, of her bare face vulnerable and her messy bun falling with every movements of her jaw. “Bucky here needs to apologize,” she looks down at him with a playful smile. “Don’t you baby.”

“Yes, Mommy,” he says immediately.

Natasha pushes down harder onto him, a painful position as his body as nearly folded in half by the woman he loves the most. “Now,” she moves her foot so that it’s pushing on his ass. “Go tell our friend here that you’re sorry.”

She undoes the binds on Bucky’s hands with the heel of her red-bottoms, the cherry-red ropes falling to the ground in total silence.

You suck in a breath as Bucky shifts to begin crawling the what feels like mile-long clearance between where you’ve sat down on the edge of the king-sized bed and the throne-like seat where Natasha has chosen to seat herself. His head is hung and he avoids eye contact, staring at the floor instead. It’s than that you notice he’s wearing a collar – a thick, matte leather one, BABY embroidered in thick, grey lettering just above an o-ring.

For the moments between when Bucky stops in front of you and when he spreads your bruised knees, some part of your brain tries to convince the rest of it that you have no idea what is going on. You have no idea what to think, what to do. That the pair of them have all of this messed up, that they misread any body language you’d contorted yourself into. It pleads like a petulant child for you to call the whole thing off, to tender your resignation and run off to some Eastern European country where no one would bother trying to find you.

But every temper tantrum has its end, and this particular one seems to be when Bucky’s lips kiss at the bottom hem of your shorts. The room falls into silence as Natasha watches him with eyes wide with lust and your neurotransmitters catch up to your hands running through his thick hair.

“Go ahead, baby,” Natasha says – still in her position on her large chair. “Start your apology.”

Bucky spreads your legs that with a touch that contrasts the rough callouses of his right hand and the tough vibranium of his left. He pushes your panties to the side and sinks a single, metal finger into your tight pussy.

You moan and fall back onto the thick bedding as Bucky wraps his plush lips around your clit.

He’s good at this, much better than you’ve ever had before, and it surprises you. Each nerve in your body feels like a livewire as he slips one finger, and then one more, into your dripping pussy. As he finds that special spot in you your eyes shoot open (when did you close them?) and see Natasha, still sitting across from you, with one hand holding her dress up and the other lazily circling her clit.

You collapse onto the bed with your third orgasm of the night, barely able to catch your breath before Natasha’s instructing Bucky to get up on the bed with you. For a moment you have no idea what you’re supposed to do, not understanding until Bucky’s flat on his back and Natasha’s gingerly running her fingers up and down his length. It’s then that the glint of metal around the base of his cock catches your eye, shining in the low lights of the bedroom. Wow, Natasha really is into this punishment stuff, isn’t she.

“I’m going to have you ride this little slut, now. Are you okay with that?”

Natasha asks this as if it isn’t what you’ve wanted since you were hired at Stark Industries, as if somehow she doesn’t know exactly what you want.

You sink onto Bucky’s cock, moaning as his thickness fills you in a way you’ve never felt before. Deep guttural moans you think may have come from you fill the room as you chase your own pleasure, slamming up and down on the fattest dick you’ve ever taken.

Bucky whimpers as you ride him, face beet-red with eyes scrunched and jaw slack. Each breath comes out in pants, and bits of his dark brown hair stick to his sweaty forehead. Frankly he looks adorable, hands flexing as he aches to touch you.

As you chase your own release Bucky’s fingers ghost over where your legs bend for purchase on the large bed, but soon are slapped away with a tsk from Natasha.

“If you want to touch, slut,” she hisses as she pinches at Bucky’s sensitive nipples. He cries out in pain, curling towards her as the sharp pain spreads through his body. “You need to ask.”

Bucky seems too far gone for that now, though, any noises slipping past his lips far from meeting the standard of spoken language. Still, Natasha seems to take pity on him, and gives him permission to grab at your hips and cup your breasts.

Since you’ve been hired by Stark you’ve spent a substantial part of your down time thinking about Bucky’s metal arm. At first it was purely scientific, wondering how heavy it was and how the internal mechanism operated. After you saw Bucky shirtless for the first time, though, your thoughts went a tad towards the gutter. You wondered if the plates would cut at your skin and more…tender…places, if it made noises when Bucky was working it especially hard.

In particular, you dedicated a considerable part of your brain to pondering whether the arm overheated, or if it had some way to keep itself from burning the flesh of whomever is blessed enough to be on the receiving end of its touch.

Now you know the metal remains whatever temperature Bucky wishes for it to be – or whatever Natasha tells him to change it to. The setting for the night seems to be a few degrees below room temperature, not so freezing as to hurt you but cold enough to leave a trail of goosebumps wherever the metal appendage makes contact with your skin.

With your entire body on fire, Bucky moves to rub at your neglected clit with a cool thumb, such an expected sensation forcing an unexpected but not unwelcome incredibly powerful climax. The man under you moans nearly as loud as you, but his sound much more desperate.

You nearly fall over as you finish for…you don’t even know the number. Climbing off of Bucky seems to be the hardest feat of the night, with your injuries and sore limbs and aching core.  

As soon as your back hits the bed and you’ve officially tapped out, Bucky moves closer to Natasha - kissing at her inner thighs before slipping three of his vibranium fingers into her own wet heat. She mms happily, dopey grin spreading across her face as she fucks herself on her boyfriend’s hand.

“So good for Mommy,” she coos. “So, so good for me.”

She cums easily once, then twice, each time a low, steady heat flows through your veins. Though neither one of them touches you, somehow you feel yourself on the brink of another sweet release.

It’s not until you look to Bucky that you feel anything other than complete euphoria. Bucky’s cock is hard as a diamond, and redder than his ass. It looks…painful, and twangs of pity tug at your rapidly beating heart.

“Oh,” Natasha rolls her eyes. “Don’t worry about him dear. This is exactly what he deserves.”

With that she leads Bucky to the floor by the collar you’d forgotten he’d had on, placing on a small throw that had fallen from the bed. She crawls down on the floor with him, balancing on her knees with her back straightened while Bucky hunches over. She may be taller than her standing up, but there’s no way he’d allow himself to be above her here, now, in this place, in private.

“Take it like a big boy, baby,” Natasha tells him, leaving small kisses on the sides of his mouth and along his eyebrows. “Make Mommy proud, show me how much pain you’re willing to take for me.”

He mumbles something low to her, something you assume is Russian by the accented whispers. When she releases him, he sinks to the ground, body curling up into itself as he shuts his eyes.

Bucky falls asleep on the ground, rock hard and aching with the cock ring on his dick and the collar around his neck. The lights turn off with a snap of Natasha’s perfectly painted nails like you’re in some perfectly-paced action movie, the darkness enveloping you as suddenly as you realize Bucky still hasn’t come that night.

Natasha seems to read your mind, tsking as she pulls you closer. “Don’t worry about him, libchen. This is his punishment, and he will go through with it.”

You nod silently, noting Bucky’s already fallen asleep with his face pressed against the soft carpet. With that, you allow the fatigue from your injury and the night’s activities to lull you into sleep. 

[kkaebsongtypo]

Awkward // Park Jisung

A/N: OMGGGGGG JISUNG PWAARK. This is lowkey based on a situation at school, there's this really awkwrd boy i kind of like sooooo yeahhhh this is based on the situation,,,,, not directly bc i dont think he likes me, but i thought Jisung would fit this role realllyyyyy well! hhehehhhe i asked the guy for a little help with this scenario ooooooooo sssshhhiiittt,,,,,,, OH! And it's bullet point :D I hope you enjoy,, this is gonna be cute oOOoOOoOoOoO

pairing: jisung x readerr

genre: awkward, adorable fluff ya'll

wanings/notes: minor mention of stress and anxiety. ALSO. THIS ABOUTA BE SOME HIGH SCHOOL SWEETHEART SHIT SO BE READY.

word count: 1633

(y'all should just assume i don't proof read ;-;)

Backstory thinggggyyyyyyyy/the situation???

so you're like 16,,, grade 11

and you're like a good student and all

but you can't stay focused for very long periods of time

mainly with "hands-off" tasks

like sitting in a presentation, or getting instructions in class,

or reading

LMAO ALL OF MY RECENT SCENARIOS HAVE BEEN ABOUT DESPISING READING AND LOVING WRITING IM SORRY IM STRESSED LMAO

you kind of had a short attention span

like you could type for hours on end

because your hands are moving

but you just can't read

(well i mean you can but the focus thing- you know what i mean)

ANYWAYS

you have this class book that you're reading

and you're having difficulty reading the book and answering the questions on time

whereas the cute, quiet, awkward kid, has read the whole book the weekend you got it

as much as you hated the idea,,, you asked him for some help

because, let's be real

you were fucking struggling and n e e d e d help

OKAY WE GOOD LET'S GOOOOOO

it was Monday

the day of the lit circles

you answered most of the questions,,,,, but your answer were kind of bullshit??

just some of them,, don't worry

you felt kinda bad for doing this,,,,,

but you did it anyways

you asked him for help

Park Jisung

the most awkward, and cute boy in your class

WHO READ THE WHOLE FUCKING BOOK IN 3 DAYS

when you asked him for help and he said yeah, you kind of like died a little

a. because he was saving your life

b. because it was fucking PaRK JiSUnG

first things first; you thanked him

he was just kind of standing next to you and looking at your laptop all awkward shit

so you like looked up at him and were all like

",,,,, do you want to sit down?"

at first he like looked back at you and his eyes were so wide

he just stood there for a minute,,,, silent, just looking at you like a deer in headlights

he quickly regained his composure,,,,, kind of

he kind of just scrambled to get a chair,, like all the way across the room

like boi there's one right here

but like he was back real quick

you were like with a small group of like 3 friends so you just scooted over and let him sit next to you

you're lowkey dying

but he is too SO

it's funny

because Jisung really likes you

so he get's pretty awkward around you

but he's like that with everyone

so you don't notice anything

so after like this awkward silence,,,,, y'all get down to buisness

"I uh,, i need some help with the questions for the lit circle,,,,,,,,

AND HE SMILED

FUCKKKKK I LOVE JISUNGS LITTLE SMILESSSS

and he was like

"the questions are hard right?"

and you smiled back like

"yEAh JiSUnG tHeY'Re pRetTy hARd"

so y'all get to work

and it's going pretty great

so you guys take a break from that shit bc ew

and you acCIDENTALLY OPEN UP YOUR TUMBLR BLOG

and you're just like

"oh shit hey that's my tumblr"

AND JISUNG IS ALL LIKE

"ah- i- oh,,,,,,, i shouldn't be looking that this"

so you look at him lowkey confused and you're like

"uhm,,,,, i mean,,, it's okay, i don't mind"

he smiles and stares at your screen and smiles AWKWARDLY

"ah,, tumblr is just like- a foreign place for me... i don't really know how it works"

AND YOU HAVE LIKE NO SHAME BC THIS BOY KNOWS YOU WRITE SHIT ON TUMBLR SO YOU'RE LIKE

"oh! You don't know like what tumblr really is????? Let me teach you the basics"

bc you love tumblr

so Jisung smiles and is like 'okay'

and you start your tumblr lesson

you're like going through your posts and the stories you've written

and you get to this one, really long story that did really well

(considering you started posting your writing like earlier in the month)

you talked a little bit about the post because you were actually really proud of it

and Jisung just loves seeing you so passionate

it's new to him because you're never really like this about regular school work

he's only seen you talk about writing like twice

the last time was when you were trying to think of a title for the exact scenario you were talking about

which you asked him for any possible ideas for the title

he smiled while watching how you talked about the scenario

you didn't notice him watching,,,,, it was cute

he looked away and at the screen again

"it's a cute title"

GAHHHHHHHHHH WHATTA CUTIE

AND YOU LIKE LOOK AT HIM

LOWKEY GET SHY

but you remain calm and hella passionate on the outside and you're like

"AHHHH I KNOWWWW"

now you're just like looking back at him with the biggest smile

but then

oh shit

he has choir and you gotta get to class

so you thank him for the help and you two part ways

TWO DAYS LATER

tbh y'all aren't that awkward once you warm up to each other

so on Wednesday

y'all have these presentations

and a big part of the presentation is (sorry if you love science) science

and you like lowkey highkey hate science

and the pressure of having to talk about science in front of all of your classmates (even though you know everyone and y'all are friends) was crazy

and when your teacher started to ask you questions that you couldn't answer

you felt yourself get really warm and then you started crying

you one of your closest friends ran to you side

and she was lovely enough to ask you if you wanted to be alone

which you did

so you left the classroom

after what felt like years (k not really)

you're teacher came out and talked to you a bit

AND THAT MADE YOU FEEL PRETTY SHITTY

LIKE YEAH WILL I KNOW I WASN'T PREPARED

your teacher said that you didn't have to finish the presentation if you didn't want to,,,, but you should go back into the class whenever you were ready

you knew that Jisung was coming back from choir soon

so you waited in the hall until you saw him

when he saw you, he sent you a small wave

you sent one back

he slowed down to a stop in front of you and asked if you were alright

bc like

you were sitting alone in the hallway lookin all sad

you just like sighed and looked down, shrugging, AND mumbling

"i don't know"

and the next thing you knew

Jisung was sitting right next to you against the lockers

"okay, what's up"

you just looked at him

and he looked back

"uhhh,,,, well,,, i had my exhibition"

you looked forward, across the hall and he nodded, doing the same

"it didn't go well, clearly as you can probably tell because I'm sitting out here and not in class"

you lowkey felt tears forming

"what happened...?"

you looked back up at him before sighing

"ELA was going great, then i got into science...."

you started to trail off so Jisung finished for you

"he started asking questions?"

sighing and nodding in response, you continued to elaborate

"yeah... BUT LIKE it was awful. I started crying, and UGHHHH it was so humiliating."

and you groaned

and ran a hand through your hair

AND THEN YOU LOOKED OVER AT HIM BECAUSE

park jisung just fuCKING GRABBED YOUR HAND

he's like lowkey stroking your knuckles with his thumb

you looked between his face and your hands repeatedly

because he's just looking forward

BUT LOWKEY HOLDING YOUR HAND LIKE

??????????????

so you clear your throat like

AAHEMMM

"... Jisung..."

this fucker didn't even look at you

he was just like "mmhmm?"

so you're like

"uhhh,,,, you're uh,,,, i'm- what's up....?"

you're all flustered and such

he just laughs a little and f i n a l l y looks at you

"Well,,,, i'm hoping that i'm comforting you,,,,, and i'm building up confidence"

and now you're even more confused

"i- i mean,,,, this is comforting,,, but like,,,, confidence for what??"

WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING

he look DOWN this time

and he's all like

'shit this can't be happening'

"uhhhh,,,,, confidence to,,,, confess something?"

AND NOW HE'S ALL SHY AND AWKWARD AGAIN

and you don't go assuming so you're like

"ummm, okay? but confess what?"

and then Jisung groans and then laughs like

"ugghgghhgh this didn't go as plannedddddd"

"I like you, Y/N, a lot...."

and you're like lowkey confused and you're like 'wait,,, the fuck is happening'

but you finally come to your damn senses and are like

"ohhhh,,,, i uh,,, i like you a lot too Jisung"

and he like chokes real quick

but he resorts in just smiling at you,,, lowkey in disbelief

so you smile back and like hold his hand properly

and now he's exploding inside because

oH SHIT YOU LIKE HIM BACK

he doesn't really know what to do so he's just like

",,,,,what now? I'VE NEVER DONE THIS BEFORE"

and you're all like

"oh uhh,,, me either,,,,,,"

so he like thought back to what Mark told him and he's all like

"uhhhh,, do you want to go on a date,,,?"

(SHIT JISUNG IS SO CUTE)

you're lowkey dying again

but you just smile and are like

"ahh sure"

and he's like 'yey'

and y'all decide to plan it some other time

so that happened,,,, and then you had to go back to class

(you two weren't inside because y'all got locked out before the next presentation)

and y'all are casual when you get back into class

in your usual seats

after a few more presentations y'all get a break

and your close friend (from earlier) turns to you and asks if you're okay and such

you just nod and tell her you're fine

you were smiling so big though so yeah she believed you

you and Jisung kind of accidentally started a secret relationship

it went on for like a month

and then y'all were so comfortable around each other and you accidentally held hands while walking down the hall

key word there is accidentally

y'all just didn't realize

and then your friend was like

"THE FUCK FAM WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME????"

you're confused for a second and then you look down at your hands and are like

"OH SHIT LMAO SORRY"

and then Jisungs friends find out and y'all are just like

'ohp okay then,,,,,, wasn't expecting this'

and you two were finally public with the relationship

it was definitely a change from the awkward shit that went down a month before

once everyone knew

y'all became that adorable couple everyone thought was hella cute and perfect for each other

ah adorable.

OKAY THAT'S IT

AND TBH WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT

i'm so confused by my own writing

this was so spontanious

I'm sorry

~ Jae☾

[whatdoyoustallfor-blog]

enjoy right now, today - peter parker x reader

fandom: the avengers/spider-man

word count: 1945

character pairing: tom holland’s spider-man x chubby!reader

warnings: chubby!reader expresses their dislike for their body, and look down upon themselves for it 

prompt: I was just gonna ask for a Peter Parker x chubby reader because there's not really any out there that I know of but it is not of importance if you don't wanna write with that in mind

notes: AHHHHHHH i wholeass snatchedt my brothers laptop from him so that i could write this lmao. i’ve struggled wit hating my body for so long, and i’m glad i got to express myself through this piece. this one meant a whole lot to me, so thank u to the honey that requested this. never forget, kids, that your body is a temple, built to be worshiped. love ur bodies! u only got 1 of em! (please take care of urselves ur all so lovely & beautiful) 

There was no way Peter Parker would ever be into you.

That was what you ingrained into your mind every time the thought of kissing him crossed your mind. There was no way you would ever feel his hands in your hair, holding your jaw as he guided your lips against his. You would never tighten your fingers in his shirt and laugh against his lips, because in your eyes, Peter Parker and yourself were two very different entities. It was best to not entertain even the thought of the impossible.

You’d been ridiculously in love with Peter Parker since you could remember. There was just something about him that drew your heart closer and closer to him, leaving an ache when he could never be reached. Like you said; you were two different entities.

Currently, MJ had her head on your shoulder, holding a highlighter between her teeth as her eyes scanned over the word-search book the two of you had laid out on the table. You spun your own pen in hand, not really paying attention to the scramble of words in front of you. Your mind was clouded with the thought of Peter, the thought of lacing your fingers through his and holding his hand, contentment filling your lungs.

And then Flash took a seat in front of you, and your mood instantly soured.

It wasn’t that Flash was a bad person- except that he totally was. Not only was he the prime source of your insecurity, but you also saw the way he treated Peter. You squeezed your fist around your pen, halting its movement. MJ raised her head off your shoulder, narrowing her eyes at the boy in front of you.

“What do you want, Flash?” MJ drawled, taking the highlighter from between her teeth. “Don’t you have literally anybody else to bother right now?” Your fingers twitched at your side, and MJ discreetly linked her pinkie with yours under the table, trying to bring you a sense of comfort.

A table away, Ned and Peter quieted down, watching the interaction go down.

He shrugged, elbows resting on the lunch table as he appraised the two girls, cocking his head to the side and letting out a small chuckle as his eyes landed on you. You rose an eyebrow as you met his stare, anxiety rattling your ribs.

“Y/N, you do know it’s lunchtime, right?” Beside you, MJ huffed, and squeezed her pinkie tighter around yours. You nodded stiffly in response. “Well, then, I’m surprised you’re not eating.” MJ sat up straight, opening her mouth to let a flood of insults out. You caught her eye then, shaking your head, eyes begging her to keep quiet. Your weight was something you were always self-conscious of, and you constantly found yourself poking and tugging the extra fat on your stomach, your hips, your thighs. Anywhere that was bigger than you cared for. Because you were chubby, most of Flash’s cruel jabs were at your weight’s expense.  

You cleared your throat, a ghost of a smile on your lips as MJ huffed beside you, now gripping your hand and squeezing your knuckles to keep herself from exploding. “Big breakfast,” you muttered, glaring down at the word search. You could feel Peter’s gaze burning into the side of your head, and your cheeks reddened at the sudden attention. “not the hungriest, at the moment.” And it was true, too. You had a spare period right in the morning, which meant you ate breakfast a little later than usual.

Flash laughed, quite loudly, and stood to his feet, leaning closer to you. You fought the urge to flick him in the eye. “You know, maybe if you-”

There was a slam, and Flash’s words stopped abruptly, eyes focusing on none other than Peter Parker.

He had slammed his hand down on the table, the cafeteria quieting down for a fraction of a second before resuming its continuous chatter. Peter’s hard gaze on Flash didn’t falter, his jaw tense. This was a side of Peter Parker you’d never seen before; you weren’t sure how to feel.

“Leave her alone, dude,” Peter said, his tone as calm as ever with a bite of ice behind it. He was standing up, one hand on the table, the other clenched at his side. Beside him, Ned’s hands twitched with anxiety. “no one deserves that kind of shit. Especially not her.” MJ was squeezing your hand ridiculously tight, and you wouldn’t be surprised if your knuckles broke right then and there.

Flash scowled then, kicking the table they sat at so it rattled, obviously at a loss for words. He wasn’t expecting anyone to stand up to him, especially not Peter Parker.

Once he left, Peter turned to look at you, opening his mouth to speak. But you were on your feet in an instant, staring at Peter with burning red cheeks. Before he could get a word out, you tore your hand from MJ’s and sped down the hall just as the bell rang.

Peter Parker could never ever like you.

-

It was ridiculous how very much into you Peter Parker was.

He watched as you disappeared down the hall, wondering what on earth he did to scare you off like that. He turned to Michelle, who was staring up at Peter with her lips parted some, blinking once before collecting her stuff and standing to her feet, disappearing before Peter could say anything.

He turned to Ned, who shrugged at him. “She was probably embarrassed,” Ned tried, picking up his own belongings. “I mean, Flash deserved that, but I kind of understand why she’d feel embarrassed, or whatever.” Ned shrugged again, avoiding Peter’s gaze. Ned wasn’t noticed around school very often, but when he was, he was usually the target of rude bullies who hadn’t learned yet that the appearance of others was none of their damn business. “But hey, if you’re looking for a way to talk to her,” he walked over to the side of the table you and MJ had occupied, and held up a battered copy of Me Before You, a colourful collection of sticky notes protruding from the pages. “looks like she left something behind.”

Peter had been trying to find you for the rest of the day, after the encounter at lunch. He wasn’t expecting it to end with you running away from him like he’d grown a third eye. But he also wasn’t expecting to confront Flash either; life came at him fast.

He’d been vying for your attention for as long as he could remember, shyness knotting his stomach every time an opportunity to talk to you presented itself. You were just so- just so beautiful, Peter thought, butterflies bursting in his belly at the thought of the smile that you only seemed to wear around MJ. You were beautiful, and ridiculously kind- it was true, he’d never seen you be rude to anyone, consider all the shit you got. For what? For looking different than some people? Peter didn’t get it. Everything about you was just so perfect in his eyes. He couldn’t understand how people hated all the things he loved about you.

Peter’s head was in the clouds as he wandered down the hall in the direction of your locker, clutching your book in his hands. His motive the rest of the day was to see you again, and apologize for stepping in places he probably had no business stepping into. Guilt clawed at his insides as he thought of all the possibilities you could be mad at him. He should’ve paid attention to where he was walking instead.

He groaned as he walked face-first into an open locker, a hand coming up to clutch his forehead. The owner of the locker slammed it shut, turning in horror to see who she had just unintentionally hit.

When Peter’s eyes met yours, the butterflies returned, this time climbing up his throat and preventing him from speaking. He just stared at you, watching you pause whatever you were doing originally to stare back at him.

“Hi.”

“H-Hi,” Peter stammered, blinking at you and swallowing hard before realizing he still had your book in his hands, and you were now staring down at it expectantly. “um, this is yours.” He thrust the book into your hands, crossing his arms over his chest immediately.

You took the book back from him, sighing in relief as you placed it back in your bookbag. You shifted nervously on your feet, not sure how to say what you knew you needed to say. “Thank you, by the way,” you began, and Peter could feel the colour seeping into his cheeks. “for what you did at lunch. It really- it really meant a lot to me, and I’m sorry I ran off the way I did, I was just-” you cut yourself off as Peter began to smile, realizing you were rambling. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize,” Peter grinned. “you have a really pleasant voice.” His smile dropped as he’d realized what he’d just said aloud, and you bit your lip to fight off a laugh. “I-I on-only meant- meant that, uh- would you like to, uh, go out sometime? With me?” It was your turn to stop and stare at Peter, and he couldn’t fathom the nervous and somewhat confused expression you wore.

“W-What?” you stammered, clutching the strap of your bag tightly. “Is this- is this a prank? Did MJ put you up to this?” Peter shook his head, confusion muddling his mind as his eyes scanned your face.

“No, nobody put me up to this,” he said softly, “I wouldn’t be asking you out if I didn’t really wanna go out with you, Y/N.” You swallowed thickly, nodding slowly as you felt excitement and anxiety and disbelief race through your bloodstream all at once.

You fumbled with your open locker for a moment before producing a pen, uncapping it and shyly reaching for Peter’s arm. He let you take it without hesitation, smiling as he watched you lightly write down 10 digits on his bare arm, pulling back and releasing his arm with a content smile as you capped your pen.

“Um, there,” you said nervously, shutting your locker and taking a step back. “I’ll um, I’ll talk to you later, I guess?” Peter nodded wordlessly with a smile, feeling his heart thump sporadically as your face lit up just a fraction. As he watched you go, the smile on his face only seemed to grow, and he maybe, he thought to himself, the city could go a night without Spider-Man.

That night, you were laying on your bed, flipping through the book Peter had returned to you earlier, visiting each and every sticky note and thinking of the reason you placed it there. As you flipped, read, and continued, your phone lit up with a text from the same reason.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: hiiiiii !!!! it’s peter btw

You grinned, and typed back a quick greeting.

Y/N: peter parker ??? ohh that kid who runs into lockers n stuff

A few blocks away, Peter grinned at his phone screen, the butterflies nesting in his body aching to get out, wings battering against his ribcage.

PETER PARKER: yeah, that’d be me :’-)

You stared at his text, grinning so ridiculously wide that you had to bury your face into your pillow to muffle your loud laugh. As soon as you were about to type up a response to Peter, a text from MJ appeared.

MJ: jus thought that i’d let u know that peter parker is totally fucking into u lol

-

@parkthepeter @assbuttbees

[bughead-ficz]

Don't Touch Her//Bughead Fanfiction (C3)

Chapter 3- Tension at Pop’s

(features unnecessary awkwardness between Jughead and Archie)

☾☾☾

It was Monday, and you know what that means. Riverdale High seemed like the perfect place to study and get an education, filled with positive and friendly students, but the brightly coloured clothing on most of the teenagers certainly didn’t reflect their personalities. The hallways roamed with douchebag jocks and bitchy females, trying to intimidate anyone who looked remotely vulnerable, like they used to do to Jughead.

Betty, even though she was saddened to not be spending as much time with him, was somewhat content in the thought that Jughead was happy at Southside High. When she first found out he’d had to transfer, she was devastated. For him, for herself, and for their relationship. She’d thought that the teasing and targeting would escalate considering that side of town was rumoured as trashy and terrorising. To be honest, she should have known better.

There were only a few Serpents who she knew for definite had actually been violent, and many more who were kind, genuine people. Take Jughead’s dad, FP, for instance, or Kevin’s boyfriend, Joaquin. Or even her own mother, the one and only Alice Cooper. But she didn’t know about her mother’s Serpent history yet.

Betty’s protective instinct had taken over and she assumed the worst of his people. But when she showed up at the high school with Archie Andrews and Veronica Lodge, relief washed over her.

There was her Juggie. Sat with some other teenagers who were laughing at some quality banter Jughead had said. He looked happy, maybe even the happiest he’d ever looked around other people (except the bonny blonde of course). It was okay. He would be okay. And that information made her content.

Betty recalled the memory in her mind as she sat in class next to Veronica. She was supposed to be studying in the room since it was a free period, but as she attempted to recall the quadratic formula, or state the different products of copper, she found her mind wandering to Jughead.

Jughead was her favourite thing to think about, and rightly so. He had been there for her through so much, like everything with Polly and her parents. The beanie-wearing boy was a blessing to her, and so how could she resist dreaming about his sarcasm, or cheeky smile? God knows he thought about her just as much.

“B?” Betty was broken out of her Jughead-consumed thoughts by Veronica’s voice.

“Oh sorry V, what were you saying?” She asked, baffled.

“Well,” Veronica began with a smug grin, “I was just wondering what exactly was so charming about copper chloride.” Betty frowned, confused, causing the dark-haired girl to giggle. “Betty Cooper you’re sat there grinning at your science notes like they’ve just sang you a highly romantic serenade.” Betty giggled slightly, but then it turned sad.

“I miss him.” Veronica slipped an arm round her to rub her shoulder. “I know, B, but you can see lover-boy after you’re education is completed today.” Betty raised her eyebrows playfully, “yes Mom.”

Veronica shoved her lightly, ���get back to work young lady.” And with that the two girls sat chuckling to themselves and attempted to revise pointless information.

☾

As soon as her classes were finished, Betty practically floated out of the superficial school. She hoped to get to pops before her boyfriend, a daily thing they’d like to do- whoever gets there last pays. Sometimes he’d be sat there with a smug smile plastered onto his face which would be partially covered by his laptop screen. At first Betty would be disappointed, but only for a fraction of a second because she’d be so happy to see him after several long hours of “education”. And most of the time Jughead wished he was last, so he wouldn’t have to wait longer to see her beautiful complexion. Sometimes they just split it, no matter who got there first.

“Hey Betty!” She was broken out of her thoughts by the red-headed boy known as the one and only Archie Andrews, jogging over the street to meet her form. Her next door neighbour and one of her best friends. The two had been closer previously, before she’d confessed her romantic feeling towards him and he’d rejected her, stating she was too “perfect” for him. She hated that word. There were no hard feelings, though, because everything happens for a reason, and it led her to Jughead.

“You headed home? I can walk with you.” Archie pondered. Betty smiled discreetly before slightly shaking her head.

“I was gonna go meet up with Juggie at Pop’s.” The Andrews kid looked disappointed, even though he tried hiding it. So Betty, being Betty, invited him to join them, and it was worth it seeing his face light up.

Now don’t get it twisted, Archie greatly cared for Betty, and the excitement his face showed at that moment proved it. But they didn’t have real feeling towards each other, romantically. The feelings Betty thought she had were just a serious crush, but, now she had Jughead. And she was deeply, deeply in love with Jughead.

And as for Archie, he knew he’d somehow be involved with Veronica at some point during that very first time she walked into Pop’s whilst he and the blonde Cooper girl sat in that booth. They were currently dating, and had lost their flowers to each other. They’re relationship was strong, almost as much as Betty and Jughead’s.

A thick layer of subtle heat covered the town as Archie and Betty strolled down to Pop’s. The weather in Riverdale was mostly bipolar; some days it would be cloudy, rainy and depressing, other days, warm, bright and cheerful. Today seemed like a cheerful day.

“So have you finished your studies yet?” Betty questioned the boy next to her. He looked down as his form towered over hers.

“We’ve got ages left to do that stuff.” The blonde raised her eyebrows.

“Months. We have months Arch. With all the work we have to memorise and organise and do all the -ises with, that’s honestly not ages.” Archie looked a bit panicked, but then masked it with chill vibes.

“It’s plenty of time. And anyway, I only really need to ace football, the rest I can just get C’s in.” He argued.

They finally got to Pop’s in the middle of Betty making valid points as to why Archie should study. It was slightly hypocritical since she’d been doing the exact opposite of that whilst she was sat with Veronica earlier on in the day. But that wasn’t B’s fault. She was… distracted.

Distracted by the thought of the exact boy who was already at the pair’s typical booth. He sat buried within the screen of his silver laptop. Sloppily, his fingers danced along the keyboard as the brain within his skull kept bursting with ideas. Betty loved watching him type, to her it was mesmerising to watch him doing his passion.

Noticing their arrival, he flashed them a grin. The two slid into the booth, Betty next to her boyfriend, and Archie across from them.

“Hey Jug,” Betty quickly kissed his cheek, neither of them being much into PDA.

“How was the cliché hellhole?” Jughead’s personality was blunt and sarcastic, he had many great qualities, but when he spoke those specific two mostly dripped from his mouth. Betty liked it though, it made her giggle.

“Same as usual. Boring. Dragged a lot.” Betty looked over at Archie, silently telling him to respond too.

“Mine was fine to be honest. Coach taught us these cool new techniques to use for the game on Friday. Now my hand’s healed, it’s loads easier to play.”

Jughead frowned slightly, ignoring the three milkshakes and portion of fries being placed on the surface in front of him.

“You didn’t mention there was a game on Friday?” He question Betty, confused. The blonde didn’t seem phased.

“Yeah there is but I didn’t think you’d want to go.” She replied, “you never liked going to them whilst you were at Riverdale, but it’s okay.”

Jughead objected, “no, I want to go.” He said, unexpectedly. It caused Betty to be surprised at the sudden out-of-character statement. “You’re a cheerleader, and, you know, we’re together. So I wanna be there… for you.” He smiled shyly.

Betty stared into the blue eyes of her boyfriend. She imagined herself getting lost in them, drowning in the deep periwinkle crests of them. And she thought to herself, what a beautiful way to die.

Jughead returned the gesture as his eyes darted around her features. He wanted to remove her tight hair band and see her silky hair flow freely so he could intertwine his hands in the soft meadow that was her hair, and be absorbed by her rosé-coloured lips. He imagined those lips kissing him until all the oxygen was used up. And he thought to himself, what a beautiful way to die.

The two were dragged out of there thoughts when the Andrews boy cleared his throat. It was as if they were two entranced seahorses being un rightly trapped in a net, and Archie was the fisherman pulling them out of the mesmerising ocean and onto the hard, cold surface of his boat.

“So, anyway,” he began as the two broke eye contact from each other. Jughead rolled his eyes, slightly annoyed of Archie popping their bubble, but Betty, being the sweet girl she was, smiled apologetically. “The routine the vixens are doing is pretty good.”

“Funny that you say that Arch, because believe it or not, Cheryl actually let me choreograph some of it.” Betty stated proudly.

“Riverdale’s very own ‘HBIC’ let you choreograph her pride and joy?” Jughead raised his eyebrows, not accusingly, but curiously. The last time the Blossom girl had done something out of character, the core four had found her attempting to take her own life.

“Yep,” Betty smiled, “basically, she was yelling at us and going off on one because apparently we weren’t doing her choreo correctly, she said some really horrible things to some of the girls. She started bringing up Veronica’s dad and his… current predicament. So I just… exploded on her, I guess,” the two boys listened to each word Betty spoke, intrigued by the story. Archie’s jaw clenched tightly when Betty mentioned Cheryl offending Veronica, but kept it shut so the soft-lipped girl could continue.

“I just got so angry and I told her…” Betty trailed off and Jughead raised his eyebrows as so say “go on”.

Betty took a deep breath, “I told her that her choreography was crap anyway, that’s why no one could be bothered to do it.”

Jughead burst out laughing and Archie sniggered. “It’s not funny, she could have kicked me off the squad!” Betty explained, but then giggled too.

“Anyway, she challenged me to make better choreography than her, and if I could then she’d replace hers with it. And well, everyone voted for mine.” She smirked smugly, but humbly at the same time.

“I can’t wait to see it.” Jughead grinned.

“Well done Betty,” Archie smiled, “so which parts were yours?”

“Oh you know, the shimmy bit, the bit at the front, the pom pom section… everything except the end position. I’m just so grateful that-” Betty was cut off by a ping noise. She pulled out her phone and read something, but it was put back into her schoolbag before Jughead could even read what it was.

“Who was that?” Archie questioned.

“I have to go.” Betty stated hurriedly, before getting up, ignoring Archie’s question. As she she got up from the seat, Jughead’s arm felt cold and bare, no longer feeling the smooth material of her jacket.

“Why? What’s wrong,” Jughead looked up quizzically at his girl. Her face was covered with fear and anxiety.

“It’s Polly, she’s in hospital, my mum just texted me. Something’s wrong with the babies.”

[girlwithwolftatoo]

Carnival chapter one

Rating: T

Warnings: just the normal freakin’ clown stuff, blood, phobias, sexual topics.

This horse is too slow, We’re always this close, Almost, almost, we’re a freakshow

Carousel, Melanie Martínez

Chapter one: Grace Pierce 

It was almost midnight when Grace came into her wardrobe and cried as the blood in her hands started to dry, creating scratches that made them look like a crimson old map.

That morning she went into the school’s bathroom, looking for her second favorite hobbie (the first was play cricket with her friends): harass Nina Miles. It wasn’t difficult, the stupid girl used to hide in the same cubicle everytime Grace or one of her henchgirls chased her.

Her feet kicked on the small white door as she yelled:

“Come on, little mouse! You can’t hide from the cat forever”.

Grace was specially angry that day because of Paul Harker. That morning, the girl showed up at the first training of the school’s football team, waiting for Paul to finally notice her since the homecoming ball on July… but the boy didn’t even stared at his partners, much less to Grace who was screaming and waving her arms at him; someone had to pay for that exhaustion, someone like…

“Nina!” she sang, giving a second kick to the door. She almost heard a soft cry inside the cubicle. “C’mon, dear, get out of here and show us your lame-ass face…”

A voice came out behind the door.

“Gracie, please… it’s not a good time… I had a cold you know? If I come out perhaps I’d sneeze at you and the only lame-ass face would be yours”.

“How dare…?” Grace turned back and ran into the door. She wasn’t a heavy person but the strength of her shoulders could give her a chance to open the door by force, and when it happens, the little slut would have a long time to regret her joke.

But when she was about to collide, the door opened by itself and hit Grace in the face; the girl felt like if a balloon exploded inside her nose, and one second later the pain made her cover her face with both hands, feeling a strange stitch followed by something warm and wet crawling over her lips. The hit broke her nose.

She vaguely saw a small shadow coming out of the bathroom, and then she squealed:

“Nina, you little fucker! You broke my fucking nose! COME BAAACK!”

Her screaming broke into a shrill moaning. The girl bended, wrapping her arms around the belly. Another stitch, harder than the one in the nose stared to run around the waist and lower back, almost immobilizing her; Grace fell on her knees, still pressing her arms around herself, crying and moaning in pain, as she felt something wet and warm –just like in her nose –running down her thighs.

“Damn it…” she growled. Her period choose an excellent day to show up.

The rest of the day Grace was in a bad mood. Besides none of her friends could catch Nina to make her remorse for the nose incident, and Paul Harker didn’t come to any class, so when she finally went home, her patience was as unstable as a spider web against the wind.

“Welcome home, dear!” said a well known voice when Grace opened the door. And she was there, the lovely aunt Betty, holding a pair of kitchen gloves and smiling at her. “Oh! Look at yourself; you’re a little woman now!”

Grace faked a smile and then excuse herself to ran away from aunt Betty’s smooches and hid into her bedroom. Right there, Grace decided to take her payback against that little brat and turned on her laptop; if she couldn’t hurt Nina’s body that day, still could hurt her feelings, so she went right to her social media page and wrote:

“How do you know Nina Miles is around? Because every single boy start to puke because of her smell!”

It wasn’t ingenious at all but at least would meet its goal. Grace put her earphones up and listened music the rest of the afternoon, reading some magazines borrowed by Heather –who, by the way, didn’t show up to school since… 3 days perhaps? –and when she thought about that, she felt her stomach churn.

“Oh God…” she whispered as an arm wrapped around her tummy “I fucking hate cramps”.

She went to the bathroom, feeling disgusted as usually when she had her period. She hated everything about it, the cramps, the inflammation in her belly, but mostly the blood. Red, clinging, stinky and warm, like a fucking sin… the sin of being a woman.

After the dinner, that was incredibly boring because of aunt Betty and her stories, Grace excused herself again and went to check her media, feeling the victory even before open the laptop. Most of her friends hated Nina almost as much as her, so she could imagine all the likes and funny (hurtful) comments on her post and smiled…

But instead of that, what she saw on the screen was more than ridiculous. It was… odd.

The post was filled with just three kind of comments: laughing –something she wanted but that constant “HAHAHA” wasn’t funny at all –, balloons emoticons and a final comment down below the others that said “Do you know who can’t handle Gracie’s smell? Paul and Heather.”

“Hey, what the fuck?” Grace’s face went red, staring at the last comment. Who was the idiot who wrote that? She clicked on the profile pic, that was blurred and with no name. “I’m gonna make a hell of your life, fucking idiot…”

Nothing happened. The page continued unalterable. What was that? That comment was so surreal… Perhaps it was a fake account of Nina, that could explain everything more when she noticed the rest of the weird comments were from the same account. Yup, that explained a lot… Except why none of her friends seemed to comment the post, not even read it.

And then it started. A new comment appeared from the same account.

“No, Grace. I am gonna make a hell of your life”.

Grace’s eyes opened as much as they could, in a total shock. Her mouth made a strange sound as she replied to the last comment with her hands shaking slightly.

“Hey, Nina, nice joke… You’re gonna receive my congratulations tomorrow, sweetheart”.

She wrote that not because she really though it was Nina, but because thinking that was more comfortable than any other possibility.

A new message jumped on the screen, and Grace felt a cold sweat behind her neck as she read it:

“I’ll give Nina your greetings soon, but first I must give mine to you”

“Hahaha, nice try, little mouse. Hey, if you stop this I will show you some mercy, kay?” she replied, trying to control the shake on her hands. That disgusting joke was out of control, Nina should think more before trying to act against Grace the next time, but yes, if she stopped that, Grace will give her a few days of peace.

A new message jumped, but this time was from a familiar face. A blond, cute and proud face of a young man holding a soccer ball. Paul Harker.

“Oh dear!” Grace squealed in happiness. Paul Harker was there, making a funny comment, laughing with her, making Nina’s joke weak with nothing but his presence…

“Hey there, Grace! We should hang out soon. Come with me and you’ll float”

The girl smiled, letting go that last phrase as it didn’t exist. Paul was there, saying hello and… now another comment! And it was from… Heather? Of course it was! Heather was there with her most recent hairstyle –red hair with a lot of soft curls –and smiling at the camera in the photo she took after her visit to the beauty salon.

“Hello, darling. I’ll come for ya soon and we’ll float together”

That word again. Grace bit her lower lip, staring confused at the screen; that was weird, she thought, why were Paul and Heather suddenly talking to her? Well, Paul never talked much to Grace but Heather showing up after three days of silence, without an explanation… that was bad, really bad. And beside those messages weren’t normal at all.

Paul wrote again:

“Come and you’ll float”

Heather wrote again:

“Float with me”

And again…

“Come and you’ll float”

And again…

“Float with me”

“Stop” Grace growled at the screen, watching those comments appearing again and again with no control. Actually the comments showed up so fast the screen seemed like a highway of writing, and balloons emoticons. Red balloons emoticons. “STOP!”

The girl couldn’t hold up anymore, and pushed the laptop out of the bed. She leaned out of the bed edge, staring at the blinking screen, in which a new message appeared:

“It’s not time to clean yourself, Grace?”

A new cramp made Grace wrinkle her face as she ran to the bathroom, taking a pad of her desk.

The arrival to the bathroom looked like a long road to the girl; when she finally closed the door and walked towards the toilet was covered with sweat and punished by the hardest cramps ever. With difficulty she pulled down her pants and underwear, breathing hard and trying to not think of the pain.

“C’mon big girl, you can do this” she muttered, ripping off the pad’s cover and looking down.

In that moment, a new cramp came out… and a lot of blood spilled on her thighs, running down her legs as a damned red river, splashing  over the toilet seat, her clothes and the floor itself.

Grace dropped the pad as the “blood river” ran on her feet and beyond; with a new cramp a new crisom wave came out of her belly and the monstrous scene was repeated. She looked sideways over her shoulder, shocking by the blood running on the floor, as if someone left the sink key open and the water was spilling all around, but it wasn’t water. It was blood, her own blood covering the tiling with an awful scarlet tone.

Her mind finally overcame the daze and Grace decided to do something, if she continued bleeding like that she would die, so she started to yell as loud as she could:

“Help me! Someone help me, please!”

Her vision started to blurred, and that filled her with fear.

“Please! Mom! Aunt! Someone… I’m bleeding, I’m…!”

And then she felt something strange between her thighs. Something cold and sharp like the edge of a broken glass or like the sharp side of a knife… or, to be more specific, it felt like the sharp side of then knifes. Despite the tremble of her full body, Grace managed to get her head down and see.

Ten sharp, long, black claws covered stained with blood were crawling on her thighs, pinching and caressing the bloody surface; they were so long that almost reached her knees, and they were in a strange position, as if the owner of those claws was trying to… came out from Grace’s legs.

The girl couldn’t handle anymore and tried to run, but she forgot her pants were still down and she stumbled, hitting against the sink. Grace took a fast look to the mirror and she saw behind her the most horrific thing so far. Behind her, a clown with a dirty white suit and orange hair was staring at her, so close that she could feel him pressing against her back.

The clown lift his hands and placed them over Grace’s shoulders. But those weren’t normal hands, the girl recognized the black claws that were between her legs, still with blood that stained her shoulders.

“Oh, Gracie…” the clown sang, smiling at her as his claws wrapped hard around her shoulders. Grace screamed out loud, staring at the clown’s face by the mirror and feeling all her strength leaving her body.

The door opened, and Grace turned her head. Finally, someone came to save her, but that horrible clown was there now, how could her mother or aunt Betty fight against him? Grace was thinking of that when she saw both women looking at her with a worried face, not as worried as she waited.

“Gracie!” her mother yelled, hugging her thight. “My darling, what’s wrong?”

“M… mom… the…” she stuttered, trembling hard. “The blood… I was bleeding… and then…”

“Oh, what a mess” aunt Betty groaned. Grace looked at her, waiting to see the huge blood pool, but her aunt was stepping on it without a glare of surprise. “Grace, sweetie, don’t drop the pads into the toilet, it is forbidden”:

“N… No… aunt Bet…” Grace noticed suddenly her hands were covered with blood, and showed them to her mother. “Mom, look!”

The woman raise a brow, with a confused look in her eyes.

“Grace, what’s wrong with you? Do you have a fever?” she asked, touching her daughter’s forehead.

“Mom…” she begged, feeling more scared than before.

“Are these her first periods?” aunt Betty asked, smiling condescendingly. “It is normal to the first times to feel confused and nervous. Leave Gracie alone, Martha, she’ll be fine”.

“Okay, then. Come on, Gracie, go to your room”.

Grace tried to say something else, something about the blood at their feet and the claws and the clown… but something told her it wasn’t a good idea, so she shook her head and went to her bedroom. By the first time in almost eight years, Grace hid herself into the wardrobe, shaking like a leaf and looking at her hands, where the blood stared to dry.

Was that real? Could it be a nightmare, the most realistic so far in her life? The blood was there, but her family didn’t seem to notice it. Nobody but her, just like the soft pain in her body and the fear…

The last thing she heard before fainting, tired of all the emotions, was a shrill laugh at the distance.

[spatialhiccups]

The Urban Fairytale: Overprotective

Part of my short story series, The Urban Fairytale

Twitter || Twitch || Instagram || Deviantart || Facebook || Discord

The Urban Fairytale is a short story collection focused around a town and it’s various habitats, both modern and mythical. Each story can stand on it’s own, with the only thing connecting them being a few characters and the setting.

Comments and Criticism welcomed.

I hope you enjoy!

OverProtective

“You’re joking, right?” Marla squinted at her fidgeting boyfriend on screen. He refused to look at her, his eyes darting around faster than she could catch his gaze. An annoyed growl left her throat, loud enough for him to snap out of his nervous fit for just a few seconds.

“N..no, I’m not joking. You know I never would, doll!” He rubbed the back of his head with his squeaky reply. He tried to smile away the uncomfortable static that hung over his laptop’s microphone. “I...I..I’ve been busy this week, and she ain’t gonna let me just take a break at a restaurant with you when I’m so far behind...”

Marla closed her eyes tight to ignore the fire that was threatening to lash out with her own words. Only a few months into their fling-turned-romance and she had to deal with a boss that sounded more like a tyrant than her old ex did. When she looked back at the screen, his camera was sideways and pointing at some papers. She caught the angry shadow of a woman prowl across the wall. His boss’ voice certainly fit Marla’s narrative on her.

“Don’t lie to me. I know you’re slacking off. You know all I want is the best for you.” Each word weighed heavy on the waves of the guilt-trip that his boss drowned him in. His responses were short, tact “yess’m”s and shaky “I’ll do better”s. Marla’s ears strained to hear the duo as they stepped away from the computer, unsure of if it would be safe to speak up or not.

Pauses of time passed before the camera was jerked back up and placed lopsidedly back on his monitor. Marla locked eyes with the shaky, sideways image of her boyfriend. “Looks like I was wrong, she sounds worse than a tyrant: an overprotective mother.”

“Yeah, I guess you can say that..” he laughed at her joke, but kept it low and stared nervously at his computer, eyes twitching away from Marla’s to check the door in his reflection. “I..sorry, doll,” he slumped his shoulders, defeat etched in every line of his frown.

Marla would have normally barked at him about his loss of resolve, but that woman struck a cord with the tone of her voice. Her snarl was replaced with a soft smile before Marla cooed out her new decision, “That’s okay, I’ll bring you some lunch and we can have our date in your office, instead!”

“What? No, we c-” she cut him off before he could finish, the call ending faster than Marla could hear another excuse. She clicked her laptop shut, dragging her manicured nails down it’s matte cover. That boss, no, that prissy woman thought she could tell him she knew what was good for him. All it made Marla think about were the bossy broads that clicked down her school’s hallways, their hair fluffed to make them look better than they really were and their bark heavy with manipulation to make up for their weak bites.

It didn’t take long for Marla to arrive outside the doors of the towering building. She had swooped by the nearest sandwich store, one arm drooping by her side with a bag of subs. Her free thumb rubbed against the strap of her purse, brushing against the dents of fresh bite marks. At least she got some frustration out in the car so she wouldn’t blow up too fast.

She didn’t even look at the busy receptionist at the counter. It was easy for Marla to stride past her with the poor girl stuck knee-deep in appointments and two phones full of busy lines. Everyone else that she crossed had the same panic-stricken gaze that froze their features. Even the few stragglers who sneaked their way into the back room were gripping their water cups with white knuckles, staring at their own feet like children who broke more than a few toys.

“Honey, I’m home!” Marla swished the door open with more pride than her poised stance radiated. Her teeth beamed behind her maroon lipstick, just enough to hide the twitching that jerked her cheeks at the woman sitting in front of her.

Where was her boyfriend? Marla scanned the room that was empty save for a bookcase, couch, and large desk. A tall, slender woman sat comfortably in the chair that belonged to her beloved. One leg over the air, she sized Marla up with a quick glance, and Marla narrowed her eyes in turn.

“You’re his boss, aren’t you?” Marla questioned irritably.

“You’re his girlfriend, aren’t you?” The woman didn’t miss a beat, batting her long lashes.

“Where is he? If he had to work so much, why are you in his place?” Marla squeezed the plastic straps of the sub bag to hold back the urge to claw his boss’ judgmental stare right off her upturned face.

“He’s somewhere away from trouble. I could smell your disaster the instant those doors opened downstairs,” his boss’ steady and suave voice rubbed Marla the wrong way. She knew for a fact that the woman was holding back more than she was willing to say.

“Trouble? Disaster? Are you sure you aren’t talking about yourself? Your employees look like they’re about to age 20 years in minutes,” Marla snapped her fingers with her bark, and the woman’s eyebrows raised at how fast her tone changed. Her blank stare gave way to a small smile and she shook her head, clicking her tongue.

“See? Exactly what I’m talking about. Look at how temperamental you are. If I didn’t know any better, I would think you’re a harpy preying on my dear Jack,” even the way she talked about him was nothing short of a mom who locked her kids in the house all day. Marla couldn’t stand the stupid woman’s stupid remarks, and slammed the subs down in his boss’ lap.

“You see this? This is lunch. This is his lunch. This is his and I’s lunch,” Marla thrust the bag harder into the woman’s chest and face with each sentence she growled out, “this is his and I’s lunch that we eat. This is his and I’s lunch that we eat together. Unless you want your precious son of an employee to starve, I suggest letting him have a break with me for a few minutes. If you think you know what’s best for him, wouldn’t you know that?”

“Oh, honey, I do know that. I also know that a bitch like you can’t be trusted to walk in here again and try to tell me how to do the rest of my job,” the woman’s talon-like nails ripped through the plastic bag easily as she yanked it from Marla’s grip. She stood up swiftly and walked over to the desk, squishing the subs against the shiny top.

“What did you call me?” Marla was on her heels, pupils alight with rage. Before she could even turn the woman back around, they were nose-to-nose. Marla coughed as the woman casually blew out a stream of smoke from between her lips, keeping her back just enough so the desk was between them now.

“You’re a hound, are you not? A hell one, if I’m correct. I know your kind well, and I know exactly how ignorant you are of everyone else and their feelings,” Marla rubbed the last of the smoke out of her eyes just in time to see the woman stretch her arms casually across the table and grip the edges of it firmly. There was still smoke twirling out of her nostrils, and her shoulders were arched back. “I’m not going to let you distract Jack any more than you already have. If I had it my way, I wouldn’t even let you be around him period.”

“What’s wrong with a hell-hound? I didn’t come in here setting your stupid furniture on fire!” Marla’s voice echoed as she slammed her hands down on the desk, puffing herself up to match up with the glaring boss in front of her. “You’re not his mom, so your opinion doesn’t even matter! You’re just his boss, so start acting like one instead!”

The air felt heavy with the gasoline both of them had spewed at each other. The tense atmosphere made it feel like any more sparks or flaming spits could explode. Marla’s chest rumbled with anger and she held it back, waiting for another smart remark to come from the woman.

Instead, the boss straightened up and turned away from Marla, striding across the room to the windows that overlooked the city. Marla cocked an eyebrow in confusion. She would have chalked it up to fear and given herself a victory, but nothing changed in the woman’s gait or posture. Nothing gave way to Marla.

“This company is like my hoard,” the boss talked to Marla’s reflection, giving the woman her back. “It’s my treasure, full of both my prized possessions and children who work hard to keep this place going. If it weren’t for my guidance, they would be lost and unable to fend for themselves. I may look young, but I’m a lot older and wiser than you think, hound. I know a lot better about how this place works and what’s important to get done. If I was just being aggressive towards you, everyone else would be slacking off, just like what they did the past week. They’re being rushed because it’s their punishment, because they chose to not do anything until the last minute,” her speech flowed like lava, burning both Marla’s hide and her pride.

Marla opened her mouth to retort, but no noise squeaked out except for a small yelp. She scrunched up her face with frustration and turned around on a heel, stomping out of the room with one final statement to stand what little ground she had left: “I’m going to get my break with him, and you can’t stop me.”

“Marla? What are you..,” Jack’s voice interrupted Marla’s pouting session in the break room. Her paper cup of water was steaming from her upset state that heated the air around her. Even the thermostat had kicked up a few degrees. She only turned her head sideways so she could peer at him from the other side of the couch. She pulled her skirt back between her legs and rubbed at her nose.

“I’m making sure no one else stays in here, so we can have our break like I wanted,” she feebly muttered, conveniently leaving out the confrontation from earlier. “You weren’t in your office, so I waited for you in here. You must be thirsty, did you like the sub I left on your table?”

“Well..for one, the subs were squashed together and slightly burnt. I didn’t think I’d taste meatball with a side of  chicken bone. Two, I know you wouldn’t be waiting here for us,” Jack tried to flash her another smile but Marla didn’t have the energy to snap at his shield of a grin. He brushed an arm against her shoulders and Marla jumped, but she let him pull her close. His hand brushed through her hair and scratched behind one of her ears, rubbing circles into her scalp. “You don’t have to tell me what happened. I know how she can be. She’s just worried over me is all,” his comforting coos drifted away from her as he looked over at the TV hanging on the wall. Marla took the time to bury into his side, sniffling quietly.

“She’s stupid,” Marla squeaked and he pressed her head against his chest. She whimpered and held back the tears burning at the corners of her eyes. “She’s stupid and dumb and old a-”

“I know, I know,” he went back to petting her head, calming Marla just in time to hear his idea. “I know, and that’s why I’m going to go talk to her. I need you to come with me, though. Can you do that, doll?”

She didn’t want to do it, but she could. Marla peered up at him, still heated from the spout she had earlier. She growled instinctively at his suggestion, but her lack of arguing gave away her compliance. “Fine,” she wiggled out of his hug and straightened herself up. She took in a deep breath and straightened up her clothes, fixing her hair and shaking it around. “Let’s go.”

Jack squeezed her hand when they were outside of his boss’s door, but it did little to quell the still-fresh wounds on her self-confidence. She suddenly realized that all the intricate designs on the door-frames became a lot more  interesting than the silver doorknob shaped like a dragon’s hand. Her stomach flip-flopped with how badly she wanted to both run away and run in blazing. “Are you okay?” He asked her one final time, and she lied with a simple nod. Marla hoped they could rip this bandage of an issue off, and that her cuts on her psyche would be gone by then.

The room was massive, practically the size of the lobby alone. Marla could see why the top floor only had the boss’ office. There weren’t even doors on the other rooms that were connected, and Marla caught the glimpse of a break room that got turned into a kitchen. The sofas, couches, and even table lamps screamed grandmother’s house. It felt out of place and Marla’s hair stood on end, not wanting to relax a bit lest the woman strike her while she had her belly exposed.

“You’re just in time, Jacky! I just finished making those brownies you like so much,” Marla’s jaw almost dropped at the view of the boss striding out of the makeshift kitchen with a pan of brownies that must’ve popped out of an oven only seconds ago. Her apron had the words “World’s Best Boss Mom” stitched among floral flowers that looked practically the same as old housewife magazines Marla remembered passing by at thrift stores. Jack brought Marla to a couch for them to seat at, and she caught a glimpse of knitted doilies spread out evenly on the fancy coffee table in front of them. The woman glimpsed over at Marla, but her eyes had softened up and only passed over the girl instead of boring into her. “Hello, Marla. Jack told me about you after you left.”

Marla’s head jerked up and she looked at Jack, but he squeezed her hand in reply. Marla looked back at the woman, who now sat across from them on the other couch and was pulling out a square of brownie to place on one of the plates on the table. “Why are you telling me this?” Marla interrogated with a suspicious squint, shying away from the second plate that the woman made for her.

“I wanted to..apologize,” Marla couldn’t tell if that pause was because the woman was trying to be nice with her words, or because she was reluctant to even have this meeting. “Jack told me about your relationship, and how good you are to him. While I never expected someone as fiery or feisty as you to give him stress relief, it seems that he was very insistent on your beneficial company. He even offered a compromise,” the woman kept the plate held out while she chatted. Marla leaned away from the peace offering as much as she could.

“A compromise? What kind of compromise?” Marla jerked her head back to Jack as she kept up her questions without fail, her entire body rigid with paranoia. “What is she talking about, Jack?”

“She’s talking about a change of location for me,” Jack rubbed his thumb across Marla’s hand, bringing it up to his lips so he could kiss it. Marla’s cheeks warmed up a tad and she squirmed, knowing that he was doing that to try to break her resolve for a few seconds.

“What location change?” Marla squeaked out, pulling her hand immediately into her lap so she could fiddle with her skirt. At least if she looked down, her face could be hidden by her hair.

“Working at home, doll. She said it was fine if I work at home, instead of here. I can spend some extra time with you, and not be holed up in that stale room all day,” Jack explained, taking the plate that his boss still held out and sliding it into Marla’s lap. “As long as I get work done, and check in often, she’s fine with it. How does that sound, doll?”

Marla lifted her head to see what his boss was doing. The woman was picking strings out of one of the cushions resting on her couch, muttering something about needing to stitch up a hole in it. Her eyes shifted to Jack and he was still smiling reassuringly at her.

“...Yeah, that sounds fine,” Marla compromised, biting into the brownie and setting it aside. She left the piece rest in her mouth, planning to spit it out when they leave, but the chocolate layers started to melt in her mouth..wait, was that peanut butter? Were these peanut butter and chocolate brownies? Marla had to contain her excitement at the flavors mixing in her jaws, and wiped some drool away from her face, sneaking a few brownies into her coat pockets while Jack got up.

She locked eyes with the boss, who at some point had been watching Marla. Marla’s face flushed with embarrassment before the woman piped up with a kind smile. “I’m so glad we’ve reached this compromise, dear. I do hope you keep taking care of him. I only want to make sure he’s happy and healthy. I’m sure you understand.”

“Yeah, I understand,” Marla just echoed, following after Jack briskly so she could get out of this house of an office as fast as possible. He was already a few feet away and down the hall, so Marla had to pick up her stride.

Before Marla could reach the door, a tight grip latched around the back of her arm and pulled her back. Marla held back the urge to bite at the voice that growled into her ear. She could feel embers tickling the lobe as the woman’s sharp teeth grazed the edges.

“If you ever, EVER dare to lay a claw on my Jack, or in any way, shape, or form harm him and his well-being, I will personally make sure that you see what real hell is like. You’re just a runt compared to me, remember that.”

Marla took off down the hallway, stopping herself before she could crash into Jack. She clung to his arm and refused to look behind her, even as she heard his boss chime up a “Don’t forget to call!” Marla made a mental note to never come back to this place again, especially alone in a room with that woman.

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