#new angles calls for slight edits & I'm -

[awakesoo]

Even before leaving, Caleb has always seemed a little possessive, but you always chalked it up to his responsibility of acting like your older brother. Throughout the years that amount just seemed to increase despite your protests that you could take care of yourself perfectly fine and that he would always hold a special place in your heart. However, this reassurance was never enough for him.

NSFW BELOW THE CUT!

"T-tell me." Caleb grunts. His cock is shoved deep inside your throbbing walls, hands gripping your waist, leaving deep red marks in their wake. The room filled with short breaths as he grit his teeth, trying to hold back from his release as he bottomed out. You weren't faring very well either, hair tousled and splayed across the pillows with countless whimpers falling from your lips. Trying to distract from the grip surrounding his shaft, Caleb leans down until his lips graze the shell of your ear. "Tell me you belong to me- that you're mine." He says in a low growl. He begins thrusting as a means to get a response out of you, but it seems to have an opposite effect, or rather provided a less direct answer.

Moans tumble out of your lips as you feel every part of his cock. The singular thick vein that adorns his member drags along your achy walls, catching on every single groove. His bulging tip reaches the deepest parts of your pussy, causing spurts of wetness to collect right where you two meet. The further lubrication drives Caleb crazy as he looks down at the creamy ring and follows its trail as it drips down to meet the bedsheets and smears across both of your inner thighs.

"Say it. Say that you belong to me." His thrusts come to a halt. You whimper at the lack of friction and look Caleb in the eye. "I-I'm yours Caleb, I belong to you.", you let out, eyes begging for him to start moving again. Your response turns his pupils darker, completely blown out due to your words. He sets a quick pace again, fast yet enough to completely fill your pussy. "S-shit, you make me crazy baby." He lets out a long, shaky breath and pounds into you deeper, relentless with every stroke.

"This pussy has always belonged to me. Was practically made for me, huh?" Too drunk on the pleasure, you were practically fucked stupid on his cock, only gasps and moans leaving your mouth. Caleb tsks, "Answer me pipsqueak." His hand moves to your jaw and lifts your head up to make eye contact with him. "Yes Caleb. 'W-was made for you." His thrusts pick up again, securing both of his hands behind the back of your knees, hiking them over his shoulders.

The new angle caused him to reach even deeper, his tip practically ramming at your cervix. Your vision becomes spotted with pleasure, nails raking down his back as you repeatedly call out his name. "C-close, p-please." You manage to sputter out. Caleb was barely holding on as well, fingers gripping your thighs like it was his lifeline. "Cum for me baby, show me you're mine." Your back arched, eyes rolled back as you let go around him. His jaw clenched, feeling the fluttering aftershocks of your orgasm around his cock. He chased his peak, his pace picking up slightly as you whimper from overstimulation. Caleb looks at the slight bulge in your tummy, moving his hand over it and feels the outline of himself as he thrusts in and out. Seeing just how deep he was, he finally reached his peak, filling your pussy with seemingly endless hot ropes of his seed.

In a desperate attempt to keep his cum inside you, he carefully lays you both on your side and cuddles you into his chest. There was still a sticky mess between the two of you, globs of his release mixing with yours and coating his and your lower half, yet he smiled at you and pulled you closer, murmuring 'i love you' and promises of eternity.

A/N: im so sorry idk how to end stuff LOL and this isnt edited whoops !

[qsphyxias]

if you read yaoi and/or bl regularly as a woman, get the fuck out of here!

synopsis ; miguel x male! reader

warnings ; male reader, cussing, no spoilers from the movie other than his existence

note ; that movie fucked me up ong, what the actual FUCK MARVEL HAD NO FUCKNG RIGHT TO DO THAT WHAT?? WHY IS HE SO BEAUTIFUL I STOOD IN A HOSPITAL WAITING ROOM FOR 20 MINUTES WATCHING MIGUEL EDIT COMPILATIONS. ON YOUTUBE. oh fun surprise at the end

words ; 0.5k +

"that's odd." you spoke to no one in particular, your chin resting on the back of your hand as you examined the back of miguel's... well, his rear.

"great." miguel huffed, blinking away his concentration on the screens before him, "what is it this time, s/o?" he swivelled his abdomen slightly to glance at you. with a pose like that... arms crossed, hip turned in a 45 degree angle, and his head looking over his shoulder at you; you could only chuckle.

miguel, once unbothered, was now VERY bothered. what were you laughing at?

"what the— why do you look like you know something i don't?" this time, miguel fully turned around; you had his full, undivided attention now. with a hand held up to your mouth to conceal your shameless laughter, you stood still as miguel made his way towards you. he wanted to take a closer look at the, what you call, humour of the situation.

"i'm sorry, it's just... um." your hand dropped from your face to his shoulder. you used his sturdy, well... extremely sturdy bicep, as a stabilizer as you tried to break the news.

"... what?" he narrowed his eyes at you, suspicion clear in his voice.

in turn, you avoided his stare by looking at your thumbs; twiddling them. "nothing..."

"oh for christ's— spit it out!" resorting to slight violence, he shoved your shoulder lightly, pushing you against a wall (since when were walls in here?).

surrendering, you rose your hands. "i was just thinking about your butt! okay!?" you sulked, dropping your head on his chest. "i am only a man." your voice was muffled, by your shame was clear.

"you cannot be serious." he pulled your head back gently by the tufts of your hair, just so he could look at you.

"i'm sorry, but your suit... it kind of makes you look like a slut-" you couldn't even finish your sentence before a loud, audible gasp filled the Spider-Man's lungs.

"excuse me?" your boyfriend's beautiful baritone voice was tragically replaced by a shrill, lady-at-the-grocery-store sound.

you grinned at his offended expression, "what- aw, does my boyfriend not want me objectifying him?" you blinked at him and pouted, leaning against him as he scoffed grumpily at you.

miguel sighed and lifted his arm up pointedly, beginning his defence—you, in turn, you took the opportunity to wrap your arms around his exposed waist. "just so we're clear; i'm not your boyfriend, you're MY boyfriend." completely desensitized to your PDA, he spoke confidently as if it was any different to what you just said; as if claiming property of a little gay boy was something to be proud of.

you could only pause, and stand in shock.

"..." you couldn't even look at him.

"..." all he was doing, was looking at you.

"i apologize. that sounded better in my head-"

"don't worry; i get it. you want me to be your boyfriend AND your pimp." before miguel could even think to catch you, you managed to sneak a satisfying squeeze on his left cheek before you started sprinting away, as fast as you humanly can.

"s/o, come back here!"

"totally worth it! you can't say that shit during pride month, miguel!"

[cosmogyros]

(a Facebook memory of mine from exactly 10 years ago today)

I like playing Cage-ian chance-art games, using my own notebooks full of writing as raw material. For this game, I took one random line from each page of my current notebook and copied it down here, with no editing. This was the result:

but the young lady incumbent was a bit too in a china shop. Or, y'know, Mick Mars in a instant no – dingy and depressing – but the ritualistically christen a new notebook – by spilling jaunty angle, thin-scarf-worn-as-tie, colorful sleaze of a place! I'm going to write them a rude appointment at the badly-named Value Village, Now it's raining, gusty and thundrous, and passe par ici, son sifflet lugubre me fait penser have all my energy bottled up and ready to let air" and hearing distant music from somewhere. Studio training – over Skype, from Germany. tree, and a bunch of guys are singing a song over briefly, and a fine (and welcome) mist from the at a bar called The One-Eared Stag and we it's likely some form of dystonia, possibly the forest, giving you an unprecedented view of these praying mantis kept me company while I ate. because their owner is getting married to the love epic-scale pessimistic conspiracy-theory stuff that name, and the creep with an accent in a white-leather girl in three languages and made kissy-noises world was wet and green and gold and glistening, some quality pooch time too? Also I hope he won't Abandoned when everyone moved up the coast passion-fruit black tea. A small group of Russians as another human being. Is that so much to ask? out of this ecstatic artistic state of sensitivity by waiting for Leanna, mit wem ich heute Abend for lunch on Monday, and avocados and apples bayonets, and a brass band, and people on horses "Jacques Cousteau could never get this low" wonderfully Anglo-Saxon "caterwaul"? Palestinian guys who run it, the Banksy art inches tall and edged with beautiful silver patterns. I sent her my estimate, and we're waiting to hear Quilt of Nations, pausing on my walk home to bask very slowly near me, heads down, reading the bricks. Museum. Leaves are blowing wildly off the trees in besides being an incredibly white-person thing to do, was intoxicating: dim moving lights, Mendelssohn's the omnifaithful notebook. I have so much social feel the slight imbalance, the faint despair. The lack on my spirits lately, with the international exposé night's blues-rock-gospel-soul was such a balm Park also constantly emits jazz, like Mother Earth we're back at the Family Manse, and things seem sing "Angels" and attempting to cry but mostly If you need someone to map the clouds, I will the fridge-magnet message I left her two weeks ago cheese with quince jelly and fig jam, and mulled cider the window candles against the encroaching evening many a slip 'twixt December and June" – because all wrapped together in one person who is wholly yet complete. And I'm a sucker for incomplete bottom of this mystery – so much the better! radio had to report that the world hadn't ended there with her driving-cap-wearing SC-accent-sporting the train station trash can on my way home. middle-aged fellow with a rather Scottish look cuffed him and threw him on the floor, and how it's me, not some painted mask I'm wearing, some sort of cohesive stew, and what better way been wiped off the map in one fell swoop. and said "Depends how I feel at the moment." ships, and she said "It's covert." Just that.

[scarlet-ice]

Screaming at my header atm

[redactedverse-thoughts]

Today's thoughts- Darlin and David

Angst. Because.

So... At some point, cant remember where or who, someone raised the headcanon that Darlin leaves voicemail on Gabe's number still, and David has access to the number and sometimes listen to it.

And there were discussions of Darlin often leaving voicemails of what they're doing, sort of like a journal. And David’s blood vessel bursting as he hears about all the hare brained things they’ve been up to. 

And it was a really fun idea to think about. If you know who came up with this please let me know.

Edit- it was @dolls-circus!

Consider:

David finally gets a breather from having to deal with paperwork on Darlin's behalf since he's the closest thing to next of kin they have, and he needs to sign off on paperwork from the department regarding Darlin's fight with Quinn.

He checks Gabe's voicemail for a moment, perhaps just for the sake of it, or to refresh his memory about the situation between Darlin and Quinn. That's when he notices a new message he's never seen before. He checks the date and time, and... He could feel his blood go cold.

With slightly shaking hands, he plays the message. And immediately a familiar voice fills the air.

"Heyyyy Gabe. So... Good news."

There it was. Their voice, clear as day. Conflicting emotions welled up in him as his finger hovered over the pause button. Should he be listening to this? But he lets the recorded message keep playing. 

"I got him, finally. Quinn. I got him. He won't be able to hurt anyone anymore." There was a giddy tone to the voice before it stopped to release a serious of wheezing, wet coughs, the kind that would shake your whole body. David cringed, half begging them to stop, to conserve their energy, half begging for them to continue, to keep talking. 

When the voice recovered enough to speak again, he could hear the slight strain in their voice. "I... I finally got him, after hunting him for so long. And... And I killed him. Ripped his throat right out. I won't lie, it was... It was kind of satisfying. Bet I looked badass too, but too bad no one was around to see it." What was first a wet chuckle, soon turned into more coughing.

Dread momentarily seizes his body as he listens to the person on the other end choke up half a lung. He seems to have made up his mind as he pleads for the voice to keep going.

"He's... He's dead, Gabe. I did it. He's finally dead. And... I still don’t know if I did the right thing." Heavy breathing while the voice seems to mull something over. "David is going to freak. He's going to rip me a new one for this. Yeah, I know I know. I shouldn't have done it alone. I should have gotten backup. I’m so reckless, blah blah, but when I got the tip I didn't have time to wait for anyone. If I didn't go right there and then, he'd run. I did what I have to. And look! It paid off! I got him didn’t I?"

They weren't wrong. David did 'freak', as they so eloquently put it.

He didn't ‘rip them a new one’ though.

He wished he could.

Despite this, the sides of David’s mouth started angling upwards, even though his expression only grows sadder. They were an idiot... yet, it was comforting to hear them sound so... like themselves. 

"Oh god... Not just David, too. Sam is going to lecture me into the next year. I'm never going to hear the end of it. Do you know how much Sam can go on and on? Why do the people around me like to chid so much?” Probably because you do so many stupid things, David scoffed. He wished he could take them by the shoulders and shake them. What were they thinking?

“He calls me darlin.” The soft, awed affection in their voice did not go unnoticed by the alpha, but it was so strange and foreign a sound from them that he didn’t really know what he was hearing. 

Sam didn't chid them. He didn't get the chance to either.

“He reminds me of you, a little I guess. I wonder what you would have thought of him. I think you’d have liked him.” 

They sighed.

"I... I know... I know they lecture cause they’re concerned, Gabe. I probably complain about it more than I should but... They’re good to me. I appreciate that.”

For a while after that there was just breathing. David thought maybe that was it, and was about to click off when the voice spoke again.

“The pack... the pack you left behind, they’re in good hands. David's a good alpha. I know I complain about him a lot... Especially to you, Gabe. But... He's a good alpha. He takes care of his pack. Us. When it comes down to it... I’m glad he’s my alpha too. He still misses you, you know."

That was... Unexpected to hear... But a pleasant surprise. David's eyes started to mist as the words sink in. A vote of confidence from the unlikeliest of places, a voice he never thought he would ever hear sing his praises. It caught him off guard.

“And everyone else too... everyone is all grown up. Grown up together. The pack misses you.”

"I... I miss you too... But... Probably not for much longer. Oh god, are you going to lecture me? David and Sam won’t be able to, will you be doing it on their behalf? Mercy, dad. Please have mercy on my soul." Another chuckle, although this one was much weaker, and it took far more wheezing for the other end to catch their breath again. A loud clattering noise caused David to hold the phone further from his ear with a start. When the voice spoke again, their voice sounded more distant. David guessed their phone had fallen. 

Their phone was found right beside their head when he arrived on scene. He could see their lifeless, still body in his mind. A familiar face, marred nearly unrecognisable. 

"I... I don’t want to die, dad. There’s... a lot I wanted to do. Quinn, he.. and... Sam, I wanted to..�� But... but life doesn’t always do what we want, does it? That’s what you always said. Take it in stride!”

He doesn’t miss the way they were starting to ramble either. They were starting to lose cohesion. He starts to mentally prepare himself for what he already knew was coming.

“Would you be proud of what I’ve done?”

Their voice, soft... barely holding on. It was vulnerable, raspy. David was seized with a frustratingly helpless as he listened. He couldn’t be there. All he could do was listen.

“I’ll be seeing you soon.”

The rest of the recording was silence, punctuated only by a soft breathing that was growing weaker at an alarming rate, until it finally faded into permanent silence that lasted the rest of the long voicemail. David was clutching the phone with white knuckles, silent tears trailing down his face, willing for their voice to come through the receiver again.

That can’t be it. That can’t be the end. There had to be more. He wasn’t ready for it to be the end.

Eventually, the voicemail, too, ends, leaving David without even the static noise of a recording playing. Their phone must have turned off after a while, finally ending the recording.

After all, Tank’s phone was dead when he got to the scene.

[theartoflovingthomashunt]

The Bogart Diaries #34: Bone Appétit

[All Thomas Hunt x Alex Spencer] [The Bogart Diaries]

Pairing: Thomas Hunt x Alex (F!OC)

Book: Red Carpet Diaries

Word Count: ~800

Rating/Warning: General (no warnings just Alex being Alex)

Prompt: @choicesmonthlychallenge : pets; @choicesficwriterscreations : baking; also for this prompt (in bold) from @jerzwriter which I already wrote for Bryce.

Summary: Alex pitches a new idea for a project to Thomas

His gaze flickered from the book in his hands to her. "No."

Alex's lips turned further down, her eyes widening. 

"Still no"

"I haven't even asked anything yet."

"This is true, and yet, I know that look, and it is always trouble. I surmised the correct response was and still is no."

She raised a challenging brow, pressing her hands to her hips. "I have no idea what you mean."

"I'm sure you don't," he replied softly, a slight smile tugging on his features.

"Can I just tell you my idea?"

"If you'd like; although I anticipate my answer will remain."

Her head shook gently to the sides. "No, it won't."

"You sound quite confident."

"Oh, I am."

"What makes you so certain?"

"History," Alex smirked, threading her fingers gingerly through his thick hair. "You always say no with that cute little grumpy face—yup, that's the one!" She bopped his nose softly as he frowned. "And then, I give you the most adorable pouty eyes and make my case—like this—" she demonstrated. "And, you always end up agreeing because you love me." She plopped down beside him. "So, you may as well just say 'yes' now and admit defeat."

"We shall see."

"Yes, we shall." Alex wasted no time. She pushed his book to the side so she'd have his full attention and started in with her idea. "This is such a great idea. It's not 100% original, but I think we could make it our own. Please try to have an open mind."

He gave her a knowing look but nodded anyway. 

"So—" She began, a little giggle slipping out of her lips, almost too excited to get the words out. "What if Bogart made a series of cooking and baking videos? We could call it 'Bone Appétit!: Baking with Bogart!'. It could even come with a little disclaimer that, 'all food must go to the lab for testing'."

His brow pulled in, and his forehead scrunched in disbelief as she continued.

"Basically, Bogart would stand on his back feet, with his front paws on the counter, so it looks like he is standing and working. We take snippets of him holding things in his paws—with assistance, of course—and show him going through the motions—all with very precise angles to keep up the illusion that Bogart is the baker. He would be our very own puptor—a pup actor. It seems only fitting. See—" Alex pulled out her phone and showed off the mock sketches and storyboards she had created for the first video segment. "It would be pawsitively adogable!" 

His mouth opened, but he closed it again, unsure of how to respond.

"But—" She continued. "It's a two-person job. I can help Bogart through the motions; however, I need a competent director to assist with framing and composition, check the lighting, and help with editing. So, what do you think?" She bounced excitedly in her seat. "Best idea ever, right?"

Thomas drew in a thoughtful breath. "While I admire your passion, creativity, and the care you've taken with your storyboard, my answer is an emphatic no."

"Pleaseeee...." Alex pouted, blinking her big doe eyes at him. "This is where you change your mind and say yes."

“You couldn’t even pay me to do that!”

“Not even for me?” 

“Not even for you, my love!”

"You're... you're really saying no?"

"I believe that was the conclusion, correct."

"Would you prefer we find a different director? You'd trust Bogart's first starring role to a lesser director?" She feigned disbelief, holding her hand to her chest as she gasped.  

"You plan to proceed ahead with another director?"

She ignored his words and began considering things aloud. "I could ask Markus but he's out of the country a lot... Ooo! I wonder if Crash is available!"

"Crash Yamaguchi?" Thomas stammered. "He isn't even a director, let alone a competent one."

Alex shrugged, waving off his concern. "Good enough for me! Crash knows how to have a good time which is really the main purpose of the videos."

"With Mr. Yamaguchi at the helm, our kitchen would be on fire!" 

"Hazards of cooking, I suppose... I think it could be fun. I'll go call Crash." Alex leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I'll let you know how it goes."

Thomas caught her hand as she moved away, pulling her back. "Fine." He sighed. "I'll do it."

"Great" She tucked her phone in her pocket. "I thought you'd see it my way."

His gaze narrowed suspiciously at her. "You never were planning on calling Crash, were you?"

"Are you crazy? Of course not!" Alex shook her head vehemently. "I'm not looking to destroy our house for this."

Thomas stifled a laugh and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her into him. She was right; he did love her and would do anything for her, but she certainly knew just what to say to be utterly persuasive.

I know there is no actual Bogart in the story, but since he is the central focus (sort of), I felt it qualified as a Bogart Diaries chapter🖤

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed this silly story. I saw an Instagram Reel with a dog "cooking" and I knew Alex would 1000% do it too (though Thomas would remind her 1000% is not accurate)

Tags in a reblog, please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed.

[sciapod]

Bathtub Photoshoot 💦

Pairing: Henry Cavill x First Person-POV (Female, or at least X wears a bra and has breasts)

Summary: Little private photosesh' with Henners and then some.

Warnings: Dry humping but let's just call it grinding. Edging. 18+ to be safe!! Contains smut. You might be able to find the tiniest bit of angst. And bit of fluff.

Word count: 2.5K

Not beta’ed! I take full responsibility for this fuckup.

Inspired/prompted by this post by @cavillfics

Masterlist

I obviously don't own Henry Cavill, nor do I know him IRL, so it goes without saying that this is a figment of my imagination.

(I took the liberty to edit the photo just a bit and don’t know who to credit for the original edit. Let me know if you know, so I can give credit where it's due.)

Happy reading 💦

---

“Babe, I've got an idea! Can you do something for me, please?”

When I heard you coming through the front door, I rushed to meet you there. You were finally home again and was hanging your jacket on the coat rack when I found you.

“Oh, well,” you reply, “I really want to just lean back, maybe take a shower or something. It’s been a long week, babe. And hello, by the way.”

You step over to me, reach around my waist and pull me against your firm body.

“Mhm, you smell lovely,” you whisper in my hair. I sigh, then wiggle myself free of your embrace.

“Henry, listen,” I look up at you with my best attempt at puppy eyes. You breathe deeply and turn your face, scratching mine with your stubble. It sends shivers through my body.

“Okay,” you hum as your hands roam my body, finding their way to my bare thighs then sneaking up beneath my robe, “tell me.”

I grab your hips and press my core against your thigh as I lean backwards, looking up at you, “I want to take some pictures … of you.”

Your face goes through a range of emotions; surprised, suspicious, smirking, friendly and finally incredibly charismatic: Front-page-style smile.

“That’s the one!” I say with excitement.

“Which one?” you tease, furrowing your brow and looking all suspicious again.

“You know perfectly well, you buffoon!” I say, as I slap your chest playfully.

My entire body lifts when you laugh. You kiss my forehead and twirl some of my hair between a few fingers. Your eyes shift, gazing at various areas of my face. I sigh, then reach for your hands, the one playing with my hair and the other, which I find gently caressing the lace of my panties.

I hold your hands between us and look up at my man.

“You do realize, of course, that you are basically a Greek god carved out of stone.”

“I have been told so, yes.”

“And you do realize that every artist needs a muse, a model, to create from.”

“I have a faint idea of that, yes,” you say, smirking down at me.

“And I happen to be short of a project, and subject, for my portfolio.”

“I see,” your smile broadens, “but what does that have to do with me?”

“Henry!”

My declining patience must have been obvious somewhere in my face or perhaps my exclamation, because you burst out laughing, throwing your head back as you do so. I can’t help but melt a little.

“Tell me what you need me to do, darling,” you say, stroking my hands with your thumbs. I feel warmth spread through my chest. Your face softens and I feel the warmth spread further down.

“Fuck,” I breathe, casting my eyes to the floor. I’m suddenly filled with all kinds of insecurities, imposter syndrome and such, but there’s a reason why you’re my man. You sense it immediately and lift my hands to your lips, kissing them sincerely.

“You’ve got this, babe.”

I sigh, “I know, sweetheart. It's just… Urgh.”

You kiss my forehead.

“Tell me your idea.”

“I…” My voice breaks. You lift my chin up with a single finger, as if it were suddenly light as a feather, forcing me to look into your striking blue eyes.

“I don’t know,” I finally exclaim. “I didn’t have a concrete idea. I just knew that I wanted you to be in the photos.”

You smile, almost apologetically, “Okay, look. I really want to help. But I’m so damn tired. I’ve got an idea, though, of how we may be able to hit two birds with one stone.”

“Okaay?” I say, a slight tinge of hope seeping into my core again.

“I need a bath–”

“–I can’t take a nude picture of you!”

You laugh again, but shake your head, “No, silly. Let me finish.”

My cheeks flush scarlet.

“I need a bath, but instead of taking a shower, I’ll jump in the tub. Once in there, you can have me do whatever you want.”

I squint my eyes, then see a lightbulb flash on.

“YES!” I almost yell, running my hands up your torso and leaning in for a kiss.

“Yes,” I repeat, then press my lips against your sculpted ones. It is as if your lips curl to a smile amidst the kiss.

“Yes,” I say one last time, meeting your eyes, “If you get the water running, I’ll collect my gear.”

Your hands go wandering about on my hips again, dragging my robe up and making my hairs stand on end. You look down at me with a confident smile, saying, “great minds think alike.”

I fight off the urge to kiss you again and instead draw away from you. You catch the waistband of my robe and it slides off as I step away, revealing the new set of lingerie I’m wearing underneath. I stand, looking at you with what I imagine is the expression of a suspicious feline. You, on the other hand, make a low whistle and shake your head in slow motion, clearly surprised and pleased to see what I was hiding beneath. Then you nod toward the living room, signalling I get on with finding my camera.

It takes me a few minutes to find the right lens. When I enter the bathroom, you’re in the process of unbuckling your belt. The tap is running and there’s already a bit of water in the tub.

“Wait,” I say, stopping you just as you’re about to pull your jeans down, “I think I want you in the water dressed.”

You stare for a moment, shrug, say “sure,” then proceed to tug your jeans over your perky bum again.

“Right, erm,” I think for a moment, “No, you know what? Lose the pants, but keep the t-shirt on.”

“Lose the pants,” you repeat and let your jeans fall to the floor. As you stand back up, I realize something.

“We might have a problem,” I say, eyeing the hefty bulge in your boxers.

You follow my gaze, noticing the same problem, then nod in agreement.

“But then again,” you say, “what did you expect, looking like that?” you hint at my open robe and lingerie.

We both shrug, then burst laughing.

“I guess we’ll just have to make it work!” I say, “Now, in the tub with you, buddy.”

You feel the temperature of the water and deciding that it’s decent, turn off the tap, step in and lie down. There’s not a lot of water in there, but I’m assuming it will do. You look up at me with anticipation, “Now what?”

I squint at you, finding the bulge slightly distracting, basically towering above the waterline like another Burj Khalifa. Obviously, you notice my lack of response.

“Hey, babe!” you say, snapping me out of it. I feel my nether region clench.

“Okay, okay!” I shake my head to wake up. You shake yours too, smirking at me.

“We need to do something about that,” I say.

“I can try to hide it?” you suggest.

“How?” I squint. It’s a mastodon of a package you has stored down there, I think to myself.

“Anyway, I need to find a position to photograph you from.”

I begin taking random photos of you from various angles and perspectives, simultaneously adjusting the settings on the camera as I do so. Meanwhile, you roll around to one side, then the other, then back again. The squeaking sounds of your body rubbing against the sides of the tub while you change poses makes the whole situation rather comedic, and I'm convinced you're doing it even worse on purpose. Determined to be somewhat professional, I try to ignore your distractions.

“It’s a good thing we have such good lighting in here,” I say, gazing around the small room, pretending to be focused and ignorant of your attempts at sabotage.

“How do you want me, babe? I feel like… I don’t even know? A fish out of water,” you say, doubting your own wording, “or something like that.”

I sigh, “I know, I get it. I need to think. We’ve also still got that… situation… going on.” I gesture at the, no less apparent, tent between your legs.

“Okay,” you say calmly, “I’ll just lie back and relax, while you think of something.”

“Good.”

As you settle into a comfortable position, I mentally run through the various “golden rules” of photography that I can remember.

Then it’s as if I notice the obvious. The absolute god-like adonis carved in marble in front of me: My initial inspiration. Your white t-shirt, soaked from all the turning and splashing around you did, is sticking to your chest and abs, enhancing the lines of your muscular torso, yet still in a perfectly suggestive fashion; somewhat similar to the drapery you see on these same sculptures. In a fit of impulse, I crawl up to stand on the edges of the tub.

You open your eyes –awoken by my scramblings– fear in your eyes as you reach for me, “be careful, babe!”

“No no, darling! Stay put!” I say, “I’m perfectly safe. It’s dry. My feet are dry. I’m stable, but thank you.” I smile, reassuringly. Suspicious yet accepting, you lower your arms and lie back down. I notice your eyes trail down my exposed body. Lust now clear as daylight in your gaze.

“I think I’ve got the photo soon, babe, then we’re done,” I explain. “Just close your eyes for me.”

You shake your head and smile, then do as I said.

Your head rests on the back of the tub, but your fingers begin fidgeting … around your nether region.

“Are you uncomfortable?” I ask between photos.

“No…” you smirk, eyes still closed, but you shift and rest your hands awkwardly on your stomach instead.

“We can’t have that,” I say, “you’re covering the main part of the photo,” I tease.

You open your eyes, still smirking but not saying a word.

“And you’re revealing, exposing, what we need to hide,” I try to hold back my laugh.

“Okay,” I continue, “what about… what if you hold your t-shirt at the hem and stretch it down to cover your crotch. Place your other hand casually beside it. Yeah, like that! Exactly, babe. Beautiful.”

I take a couple of photos and look at them on the tiny screen.

“Right, hold that pose, but just… kinda relax, if you can. I’ll take a few shots more and then you’re done!”

You close your eyes again and begin taking deep breaths, lessening the tension that must have been building in your shoulders over the last few days. As peace falls upon your face and body, I take the last photos. After quickly reviewing them on the tiny screen, I decide that I’m done. I turn off my camera and place it on the shelf above the tub before crawling down to sit on the edge of the tub, my feet in the water between your legs.

“Okay, it’s a wrap!”

Your eyes flash open and you let go of your t-shirt. The fabric bounces back, revealing your hairy tummy, teasing me. You look up at me with mischief, then give your member a squeeze.

“Get down here,” you say, almost ferocious in your voice.

I feel myself get all giddy with sudden anticipation as you rise like Poseidon from the water. Before I can do anything other than yelp, you pull me down onto you and with a splash and a thud I land against your rock-hard body. I'm instantly soaked.

“Finally,” you mutter, drenching my face and neck with hungry kisses. Your hands tease the collar of my robe before sliding it over my shoulders. Your eyes explore the curves of my upper body, then you adjust me so that I sit straddled upon you. You don’t speak a word, but your eyes and body say everything I need to know.

I feel your girth throbbing against me. You slide my robe all the way off and without taking your eyes off me, you cast it aside. Then your hands slide up my body. You cup my breasts tenderly, admiring the lace and how the new style of bra suits my breasts. You lick your lips as your thumbs begin stroking my hardening nipples. I sigh and begin grinding against the tip of your member.

You sit up and proceed to kiss and bite the flesh of my breasts. Gently holding the lace aside with your fingers, you capture my nipples between your teeth, ever so gently, before circling your tongue around them with exquisite attention. While squeezing my breasts together, you kiss them one after the other, back and forth, before venturing up to my collarbone and neck. All I can do is whimper and moan.

Then you grasp my hair, pulling my head back. Between kisses and bites on my exposed neck, you breathe damp, sultry words onto my skin. Expressions of how I’ve been a tease, how patient you’ve been and how much you want me now. I want to answer, but I can’t do anything but mutter incoherencies; your throbbing cock eagerly pressing against my core and thus stealing all of my vocabulary.

My breath quickens as I grind harder, cursing the fabrics that keep our cores from meeting, merging. Then you push me towards you, allowing our lips to meet in hungry kisses. My bra loosens. You must have managed to open and take it off me with your other hand, before also casting it aside. You grab at my liberated breasts, then sit up and pull your drenched t-shirt over your head. It lands on the bathroom floor with a splash. My hands instinctively seek the wet fur of your stomach and chest, momentarily squeezing your pecs, then wander south again.

Your eyes read pure hunger and you buck your hips. As I fall back down from the jump, my core meets the powerful strength of your pelvis, bucking yet again. I gasp, overcome by a mixture of arousal and humor. You buck again, a laugh escapes me and somehow, after a few times of this, you’ve managed to free your erection from your boxers. I didn’t notice, but at some point you must have turned on the tap again, because I see you turn it back off. I guess this increased level of water also explains the more slow-motion-like sensation I experience as I land back down on your pelvis; a somewhat softer landing than before. In my own defence, I was entranced and my mind was not functioning at 100%, hence the questionable description. Anyway, both our hips are now submerged under water and I simply shake my head at your mischievous ways. You smirk and pull me down to a deep kiss, slapping my ass through the water, making more water splash all over the place. Everything in the room is certainly wet by now.

I grind against your exposed and infinitely hard cock as your fingers slider under the lace. Your hands grab my cheeks with determination, enhancing the force and enabling you to better thrust against my grinding motion. The friction is causing short-circuits in my brain, making me see colours that aren’t there. My first climax is staggeringly near, but just before I get to release, you buck your hips again, making me scoot off your cock. A devious grin is smeared across your chiseled face.

“You had me waiting, sweetheart. Now it’s my turn to tease.”

---

Thanks for reading my shitpost! Please leave a comment of your thoughts, however nonsensical they may be 💜🙏

Tags in the reblog 🖤Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the list.

[hoe-doroki]

Can I request some tender loving from soft dom deku and female reader?

Very swnsual

Just you've been together forever and waking up from an afternoon nap together

You're feeling particularly loving. Like you have so much love to give that your hearts just gonna burst if you dont show it to him.

I'm just in a soft Feku mood, let him run his fingers through my hair and tell me im his sweetheart, im his girl.

Thank you!

Hi, dear! You wanted a loving Deku to top you, well you came to the right place. Not quite dom/sub, but I think I squeezed in some of the things you wanted. Hope you like it! ;)

minors do not interact

warnings: 18+, mild breeding, mild praise kink; everything’s mild, lol

genre: smut, fluff

wc: 2.1k

edit: I no longer write x reader but here’s my old masterlist - mobile | desktop

The sunlight was bright in your eyes before they were even open. You scrunched your face to fight off that red glare behind your lids and turned away into a mess of soft curls.

That you could wake up looking at.

When you opened your eyes, your husband’s face was aglow with the high midday light. His jaw was slack, mouth partially open—he was still well asleep. Izuku was always so tired from work that he could sleep through anything, cheeky sunlight included. Of course, this was only when he was feeling safe, which usually meant with you. With you he could sleep undisturbed, at peace.

The butterflies in your stomach quivered as you rolled to one side to fully face out of the sun and towards him. The back of his hair was still dark, damp from the shower he’d taken before you’d convinced him to crawl back into bed. Even the number one hero should sleep in on a Saturday off from work.

Of course, he hadn’t. So after he’d returned from an early run to the gym, you’d managed to pull him back in for the rest that you knew he needed. His eyelids had still been just a pinch too heavy, his smile a tad too slow—though no less genuine.

You pressed your nose against the freckles on his cheek, warmed by the sun. You couldn’t remember the last time the two of you had awoken in such glorious sunlight. All the skyscrapers in the city made true beams of sun rare in your apartment. But today, it seemed, you’d gotten lucky.

“Honey?”

Your eyes had fluttered closed again against Izuku’s soft cheek, so you opened them to see the light twitches of Izuku’s cracking open.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” you asked, your mouth millimeters away from his jawline, tantalizingly close.

“Mm, that’s okay.” Izuku rolled over so that he was facing you, a smile spreading across his face. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you returned, your teeth just barely showing in a grin as Izuku found your hand beneath the blanket and intertwined your fingers with his. He brought your hand up to his mouth and kissed right below where your wedding band was, the scratches on the white gold glinting in the bright sun.

Izuku’s eyes were a wide meadow of grassy green in that moment as the sun glinted off of them. His pupils were shrunk to pinpricks, totally focused on you and a little cross-eyed as you lay nose to nose. “That was a good nap.”

“Mm, yeah.”

Your feet were rubbing together lightly, knees knocking as you both slowly surfaced from the haze that sleeping in the middle of the day always painted over you. It only felt natural that, as you did, the crown of your head tilted a little further into the pillow and your chin angled a little closer to your husband. Your noses shifted from rubbing affectionately to slotting together as you exchanged soft kisses. After a moment, Izuku pulled apart, lips curling up, brows raised under his curls that were flat from the pillow.

“Very energizing nap too, right?”

A smirk pulled at half your face. “Something like that.”

You met back again with a little more gusto, Izuku’s hand pulling from yours in order to cup your chin while you brought your hand to his shirtless back, pressing him closer to you. You raised your left leg up underneath the blanket and hooked it over Izuku’s thigh, and you could quickly feel his need growing beneath the boxers he’d thrown on out of the shower.

Izuku’s tongue just tasted like Izuku—familiar from whenever he had time for morning kisses before duty called. But the rest of him was nothing but clean: fruity shampoo from the shower, the slight musk of his aftershave and deodorant, the very light pine from his bodywash. It all was soft but not trying too hard.

“God, I wish I had more days off,” Izuku groaned as he naturally started pushing you onto your back, the hand that had been on your jaw now down to the fleshy part of your shoulder as his torso fell over yours.

“You don’t,” you said, almost giggling at what a lie that had been. “You just wish that you had more time.”

His eyes were soft as he pulled back to look at you. You could see in flecks of dark jade the hints of regret that Izuku always held. There was never enough time to be a hero. Never enough time to be a husband. Even if he spurned one and took on the other exclusively, it would never be enough. So he made do with what he had and, over the years, had put every effort into making time for both, doing everything with that inimitable Deku ardor.

“I do,” he said. “God, I do.”

You were completely on your back now as he pressed between your legs, which came up to hook around his hips. He leaned into you heavily, against your mouth, against your core. His intent had grown quickly, as it always did, and yours was rising to meet him.

The tee you’d thrown on had ridden far higher than your panties and Izuku had one hand creeping under it, cupping one of your breasts as he ground against you. A few moans escaped you as he kissed you passionately, just as he had when your relationship had been new. But now the passion was matched with experience; he knew your every spot, every desire almost better than you did. Soon he was rising off of you, the hem of the shirt clenched in his hand. You arched up for him to pull it off of you and then relaxed back down.

You expected Izuku to follow you immediately, but instead one hand passed over your hair and he smiled.

“You’re beautiful,” he stated. “Just, like…really, really amazing.”

You preened at the praise and it compelled you to hook both hands around Izuku’s neck and pull him back down to you. You met no resistance as his mouth fell back against yours, his hands pressed on either side of your hips as he began rutting against you through your undergarments.

“God, Izu,” you breathed as, even through his boxers, the head of his cock managed to meet your clit. Your panties were clinging to the slick that had already formed, and his thick shaft was keeping them stuck while you just wanted them off, sooner rather than later.

“I know, honey,” Izuku groaned, grasping the elastic of your panties in both hands. “God, I always need you so much.”

“Me too,” you said, bringing your legs together so that Izuku could pull your panties down and throw them to the ground.

His boxers were next, not getting the delicate treatment that your underwear had gotten. He tore them off, betraying his eagerness as he immediately went to the bedside drawer for your half-empty bottle of lube, squirting some generously in his hand. He fisted it over his cock before taking his slick hand and pressing it against your pussy, rubbing four fingers up and down over the breadth of your sex. You gasped, arching against the bed at the direct contact, suddenly so much warmer than you had been a moment ago, from your cunt to your breasts now bathed in sun.

“Are you ready for me, sweetheart?” Izuku mumbled against your mouth as his body came close and his hand, the one puckered with scars, rubbed against the roundness of your hip.

“Please—need you,” you said, practically quivering for him as his wet dick slid over top of your needy hole.

“Okay, gonna take you so high,” Izuku said as he grabbed his cock and readied it against your entrance and you felt the hot stretch of him pressing into you.

“Yes,” you whispered as he sunk in, the perfect shape and contours of his cock brushing all the familiar spots inside of you until he bottomed out. Then he took your hand in his again, forehead pressed against yours and began long, deep thrusts.

“God, I love you, honey,” Izuku said as the pace slowly increased, his pelvis slapping into yours with a wet clap at every full thrust. “You feel so good for me. So hot and tight.”

You just whined in response as you lifted your hips to his. Maintaining his pounding, Izuku reached for one of your pillows and, without prompting, you raised up enough for him to slide it under you so he could hit all your secret places with every thrust.

All you could do was grip him tightly as he had his way with you. Your fingers clenched around his, your legs around his waist, and—most of all—your throbbing cunny around his hard cock.

God, he was right. You didn’t get to have him like this enough. He was so good—so strong and kind—and you loved him so much that it was never enough.

“Close, sweetheart?”

“Yes!” you cried as one hand crept down to your clit and started rubbing a slick pattern on it. “Fuck, fill me up, Izuku.”

Izuku grunted as your walls squeezed around him a little tighter. “Not yet, sweetheart. You don’t get my cum until you finish.”

Everything got hazier as you closed your eyes to the sunlight, overcome by the sensations on your clit and in your cunt—even more so when Izuku bent his head and began suckling on your neck. All you could focus on were those three points, each becoming stronger and stronger in your brain until you suddenly gasped, legs shaking around your husband as he pulled your orgasm out of you, stoking it as he kept thrusting into you.

“There it is, honey,” Izuku said, and you could feel him smiling against his neck. “Now do you want my cum?”

You could do little more than whine for it as you came down from your orgasm, desiring to make Izuku feel as good as you did, for you to give him a shred of the pleasure that he did you. So you squeezed him tighter around the waist and drew him into you, wanting nothing more than his cum deep inside of you the moment he finished.

“Please, Zuku,” you breathed. “I love you.”

His brows screwed together, tight with concentration as his pace sped up to full speed—the tell tale sign that he was reaching his end.

“Uh—Oh god,” Izuku grunted as he began to spurt inside of you, painting your insides with liquid heat. “Fuck, I’m cumming. Gonna fill you so good.”

He was already making good on his word. Some of his essence squeezed out as his thrusts continued, making a mess of you both. You just held him as he slowed down, his heavy breaths pushing his stomach into yours until finally stuttering to a stop. Just before he fell boneless, he wrapped both arms around you and flipped you onto his stomach where he could hold you close.

“You’re so good for me, sweetheart,” Izuku said, pressing a kiss to your shoulder and running his hands up and down your bare back.

“Mm,” you hummed, eyes closing against Izuku’s chest as you felt him slip out of you and your combined fluids begin to dribble out. “Making a mess.”

“That’s okay,” Izuku said, one hand moving up to the base of your hairline and playing with the tiniest strands that lived there. “I’ll get you cleaned up in a minute. I’m just not done holding you yet.”

You weren’t done yet either, so you made sure to hold him everywhere you could. You straightened your legs a bit, tangling them with Izuku’s and kept your arms loosely wrapped around his neck. His body was so warm, so strong. He held you like this often enough that you knew that you weren’t too heavy on top of him—he’d proven you wrong too many times when you’d tried to argue with him.

His chest had broadened with age and was just perfect to lie against, whether with just a head and a hand or with your whole body like now. And he’d only gotten stronger in his years as the number one hero. In a few minutes’ time, he’d lift up the both of you and carry you to the bath, despite having taken a shower himself just before your nap. His gnarled hands would pass softly over your skin, cleaning you up and loving you well.

But, for now, you lay as the day’s sun traveled over your interlaced bodies. You lay until it passed your toes, until it left the room. Even without it, you were still warm.

[kitkatd7]

Naughty List

12 Days of Christmas; Day 7

Pairing: Dom!Bucky x Model!Switch!Reader

Summary: You tease Bucky with a naughty picture and he doesn't appreciate it.

Warnings: (18+) Explicit smut. Dom/switch dynamics, slightly rough sex, oral sex (male and fem receiving) slight overstimulation, masturbation, dirty talk, the slightest hint of degradation, teasing, cursing, implied smut, implied dark!Bucky. If any of these things bother you please don't read this story!

Word Count: 1,359

A/N: So here's a smutty one! I hope you enjoy it! (Sorry I'm so behind on these)

Marvel Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

12 Days of Christmas Masterlist

------------------------------------------

Today is your photoshoot with Victoria's Secret for their Holiday edition and tour excited- but why did you have to be there at 6 A.M.? You're up and out the door before Bucky has even left for his daily run; you give him a quick kiss before dashing out the door.

Strolling in the door, you immediately hear your name being called by your boss, Michael, who’s walking towards you with an alarmed look on his face. “Thank God you're here! We just lost 2 other models and we need you to fill in for them.” 

Great. You fake a smile. “Of course I can do that! Any idea what time we’ll be done?”

“You're a lifesaver. Probably only a few extra hours… we should be done before 5!” he calls over his shoulder before rushing off.

5 o’clock. That’s only an extra 4 hours of shoots- how bad could it be?

------------------------------------

5 hours later you’ve just finished several different shoots and you're ready for lunch. Before heading to get something to eat you waltz into the bathroom, still in your red silk lingerie set. The top has thick, striking straps that halter around your neck, the dramatic straps draw attention to the large, red bow positioned directly between your half-exposed breasts; the panties are the same vibrant, sexy red, held only by flimsy straps that tie on each hip, creating little bows of their own. 

:readmore:

You glance in the mirror. Damn you look good. 

Unlocking your phone, you open your camera to take a selfie, your phone poised above you and tilted down to capture your outfit. Your other hand comes up to play with the top of your bra as you snap the picture, the angle perfectly capturing your figure and exposed cleavage, but also leaving more to be desired. 

Opening your messages you send Bucky the picture along with a text: Have to fill in today... Won’t be home till later tonight… Hope this makes up for it ;)

-----------------------------------

Walking into the kitchen Bucky grabs a bottle of water from the fridge, glancing at his phone on the counter. 

**2 New Messages from Babygirl❤❤❤**

Unlocking his phone he opens your texts, sucking in a breath at the naughty picture and text he finds waiting. Enlarging the photo he feels himself harden at your pretty tits and sultry expression on display for him. Fuck. He glances at the time stamp. **Sent 11 A.M.** 3 hours ago- which means he has to wait another 3 hours for you to get home. 

His mind drifts to all the other possible skimpy outfits you could be wearing and his cock twitches. 3 hours. God, he won’t last that long.

Turning on the water as cold as possible he steps into the shower in hopes it will help.

He braces himself against the wall, willing himself to think of anything besides you to no avail. His mind keeps drifting to you and your sexy half-smirk; your legs, ass, tits, hair, lips- Every thought driving him insane.

He grasps himself firmly, pumping slowly as he imagines fucking you in that pretty red set of lingerie; he pictures you below him on your knees, red lipstick smeared across your plump lips and his hard length. His strokes become quicker, his breathing irregular as his hips stutter erratically and he imagines filling you again and again; his release spurting in thick ropes against the shower wall at the thought of you wrapped around his cock. 

2 hours and who knows how many orgasms later, he’s still hard, his cock throbbing painfully.  

A sinful moan falls from his lips as he leans against the headboard of your bed, pumping himself closer to release, his other hand toying with his sensitive balls. 

“Isn’t that a pretty sight.” You smirk, leaning against the doorway as his eyes snap open.

He crawls towards the edge of the bed, swinging his legs over, his member on full display as your eyes take in the sight greedily. 

You saunter towards the bed, dropping your coat and revealing a low cut red dress as you stand between his thighs, inches from him. His eyes rake over you, a sound between a whimper and a growl leaves his lips. “Fuck. Need you so bad babygirl.”

Lifting his chin with a finger, you smile. “What’re you waiting for?”

He crashes his lips against yours, shredding your dress in the process before grasping your hips, pulling you tightly against him as you moan.

Grasping the back of your neck he pushes you to your knees, taking in the sight of your exposed cleavage surrounded by red lace. “Look what you did, baby doll,” he orders.

Your gaze travels lower and you suck in a breath, his size never ceasing to amaze you.

“Such a bad girl,” he tuts, gathering your hair in his metal hand. “Makin me so hard when you weren’t here to take care of me.” His Brooklyn accent thickens, his pupils blown wide with want as you whimper below him, your panties thoroughly soaked.

“Better take care of the problem you created.” His tone leaves no room for argument.

Grasping him lightly, you kitten lick his tip, moaning at the salty taste of his precum.

Taking the head into your mouth, you stroke him more firmly, cradling his balls with your free hand as he grunts above you, fisting your hair more harshly. “That’s it, sweetheart. Just like that,” he pants, his other arm braced behind him on the bed.

You squirm pathetically, loving how he uses your mouth, his hips jerking up roughly as you take all of him you can; one hand still cradling his balls as your other hand travels to your pulsing clit and soaked folds.

“There ya go darlin, touch yourself while I fuck your throat,” Bucky groans, his eyes locked on you. 

Inserting a finger into your tight channel you grind against your palm desperately. 

Tears prick your eyes as Bucky’s thrusts become erratic, his member throbbing in your mouth. “Don’t cum,” he orders as he comes down your throat, “now swallow.” 

Taking every drop, you practically sob when he pulls you to your feet, his fingers replacing yours at your entrance. “So wet for me, sweetheart.” 

Two of his digits run through your folds slowly before he brings them to his lips, sucking them clean as a moan leaves your lips, your eyes trained on his. 

“You taste amazing,” he hums while undoing your bra and hooking a thumb into the waistline of your panties, removing both.

He makes his way to the middle of the bed, laying on his back with his head at the pillows as he crooks a finger towards you.

Crawling towards him uncertainly, you suck in a breath when he gestures for you to ride his face. Straddling him, you sink down slowly, whining when his warm tongue teases your clit. 

Grasping the headboard tightly, you arch your back as Bucky delves into your folds; sucking at your clit furiously, licking long stripes from your entrance to your bud, and tongue fucking you until your breathless and dancing on the edge, only for him to deny you again and again until your a writhing mess, desperate pleas leaving your lips. 

Finally, he lets you cum; his arms wrapped firmly around your quivering thighs as you ride out your high. 

He laps at your juices like a man starved as you attempt to wriggle out of his grasp, your core becoming overstimulated. 

He releases his hold and you fall to his side trembling as you attempt to catch your breath. 

Leaning over you he taunts, "It isn't as fun when you're the one being tortured, is it?"

Receiving no answer, he asks again with a predatory growl in his throat, "Is it?"

You shake your head, unable to form coherent thoughts much less words. 

Your eyes drift closed, only to snap open again when you hear a dark chuckle. "Did you think we were finished?" He asks, rolling one of your hardened nipples between his fingertips, causing you to moan out desperately. 

"No babygirl… We've only just begun."

---------------------------------------------

Thank you so much for reading! I don't write much smut so please let me know what you think!

Forever Tags: (OPEN)

@lovesmesomehiddles @saiyanprincessswanie @buckys-other-punk @kind-sober-fullydressed @romainniesweetheart ��� @malloryharris @itsunclebucky @teenagereadersciencenerd @chaotic-fae-queen @bugsbucky @cap-n-stuff @imma-new-soul @wonderlandfandomkingdom @fablesrose @coffeebooksandfandom @tom-hlover @chaoticpete

12 Days of Christmas Tags: (OPEN)

@myraiswack @winterreader-nowwriter

[bbrandy2002]

Two Men and a Baby Part 9A-The Final Part.

This chapter took on a life of itself and is quite long, so I divided it up in two parts again. I will release the second part later today.

I put everything into this chapter, so, I hope it meets your expectations, because it is WILD 😂

The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir

Warning: YOU WILL LAUGH A LOT!! Also, there's profanity.

@emceesynonymroll

@gardeningourmet @dcbbw @crookedslimecreatorpasta @moonlightgem7 @katedrakeohd @sirbeepsalot @romanticatheart-posts @carabeth @ladyangel70

I do not own any of these characters...borrowing from Pixleberry.

[[Read more]]

Post 9A-Finale

He looked at her and uttered, "I'm sorry".

She replied with a soft smile, "I'm not".

Drake closed his eyes and took a deep breath, "but, what about Liam?"

"Drake, my husband never took the time to touch me like you did last night; trust me, I'm not worried about what Liam thinks."

"Yeah, last night sure was crazy."

10 hours earlier....

The press had gotten news of Bertrand's debacle and descended onto the gravel road that led through the Stormholt Vineyards.

Bertrand was still inside and the crews that weren't working the Beaumont Estate standoff were assigned to the Beaumont Zipper-gate send off. Firemen were busy working the jaws-of-life on the roof of the carriage; meanwhile a helicopter life squad was waiting in the air. 

Bertrand was unable to close his legs and crewman concluded this would make it difficult to get him through the door. Once the roof had been lifted off, the helicopter got into position over the carriage.

Penelope had exclusive access to all the action. Being friends with Savannah paid off in this situation. Penelope offered Savannah a ride to the hospital in exchange for moment by moment, upclose coverage.

"Yes folks, Penelope here with all the action. Right now, the medical helicopter is lowering a harness down into the carriage with the assumption, the Duke will be raised out and transported to the emergency room immediately.....this is so awesome, lets watch".

Two fire rescuers climbed inside the carriage and carefully cut the legs of Bertrands pants; they wanted to make access to his "area" a little easier for the flight medics.

"Alright Your Grace, we have to place this harness through your arms and strap it around your chest. We assure you this is very sturdy and you will not fall okay?"

Bertrand nodded, but, didn't speak. He wanted to, but, what was there to say. In just mere moments, he would be lifted out of this carriage and would ascend into the sky, practically naked. He was aware the press was waiting outside. He was also aware that he would be front page news, right next to a damn boar. He closed his eyes and the image of Maxwell was so vivid in his mind. He knew he bought a "pig" yesterday, but, was he really that stupid to mistake it for what it really was, a wild boar. Bertrand concluded, he is.

When Maxwell was 10, he traded Pokemon at school with Neville Vancouer. Neville told Maxwell he had a hamster that he would give Maxwell for his rare holographic shadowless first edition Mewtew, Pokemon card. Neville got the card and Maxwell unknowingly got a rat.  The rat had babies and the infestation was horrific. The vineyards behind the estate were nearly wiped out. Bertrand found one in his bed, just before climbing in, mating with another. When Bertrand brought his first girlfriend home, she left the estate in tears after one jumped on her just before he was getting ready to clear second base. The town was affected, as crops after crops were destroyed. Barthelemy Beaumont paid a heavy price in lawsuits and clean up that year; his families financial troubles began in that moment. It took Maxwell's tell-all book to bring them out of their woes. Bertrand would be appreciative of that fact, if it weren't for him telling people in his book that Bertrand gets bi-monthly Brazilian waxes from a shady massage parlor owned by Duke Godfrey in Krona. That parlor has since been been raided and shut down.

Once the harness was securely in place, life squad gave the signal and Bertrand was slowly liifted upward.

"Hey fellow Cordonians, Penelope here again. I have just gotten word, they are about to lift the Duke out of the carriage. Yes, there he goes...up, up and wow, is his asshole as smooth as a babys bottom. His brother was telling the truth....good job Duke Godfrey and all the former employees of Adelaide's Massage and Dance Parlor. Oh, hold up guys, there seems to be some kind of mechanical trouble. The lift has stopped working....whats that? There's a malfunction?.....okay, so the lift has malfuctioned and they are going to go ahead and proceed on to the hospital with the Duke hanging below. Good luck up there sir, you're little naked butt is flying with the birds now! Okay, I am heading to the hospital now and will update you all as soon as I can. Penelope out!"

Bertrand was such a trooper, because, of course the lift malfunctioned; it would be wrong if it didn't at this point. He was sure that at any moment, the harness would break too and he would simply fall from the sky. With his luck today, he probably would survive though.

Riley, Drake, Olivia and Maxwell were watching the events unfold on TV from the waiting room of the hospital. Maxwell had been released earlier and Drake finally caught up with them. Drake told Riley that Liam was meeting with someone to explain his absence. Savannah had replied to Riley's earlier text, letting her know that Bertrand would be going to the hospital soon. She didn't say why, but, the news in the waiting room was riveting. The press had already gathered outside, awaiting the arrival of Duke Ramsford.

"This is absolutely, the most insane thing I've ever seen." Riley watched in awe.

"Wow, that camera is really not letting up off his asshole." Olivia replied in complete astonishment.

"Well Maxwell, I owe you a hundred smackaroos, I thought you made it up, but, that camera angle doesn't lie. He really does get Brazilian waxes" Drake says as he leans back in his chair with his hands laced behind his head.

"Why would I lie Drake? Beside, you wanna know who else was getting one there?" Maxwell asked. Riley, Olivia and Drake all leaned forward in anticipation. "Who?" Olivia inquired eagerly.

"The Queen Mother", Maxwell said with a slight grin.

"Pfft...no fucking way!" Riley slapped both of  her knees in shock.

"Maxwell, how do you know that? Did you see her there?" Olivia asked sceptically.

"Hell yeah I saw her there, who do you think gave them to her?

All three dropped their jaws simultaneously.

Drake finally rolled his eyes, "you're making this all up Maxwell."

"Did I lie about Bertrand?"

"Well...no...but, this sounds a lot like something Duchess Adelaide would tell."

"I swear Drake, I can prove it."

"How?"

"She has a tattoo of an apple pie on her left butt cheek with "Connie" written on top of it,"

Riley and Olivia lost it, laughing way too hard and trying to catch their breaths. Olivia even tipped her chair over and fell out of her seat onto the floor

"Well, Maxwell, I don't think any of us are going to look at Regina's butt cheek for proof." Drake scoffed.

"Wait Maxwell, why were you giving the Queen Mother a wax job?" Riley stopped laughing long enough to ask.

"You see, I got tired of Adelaide always hitting on me at these balls and such, so I talked to Madeleine about it. She said if I would help out with her fathers business, she would keep her mother away from me. So, I gave waxes once a week. Saw a lot of girls naked....it was a good gig, until it wasn't", he said with a frown, "but, yeah, Reggie, thats what we called her at the shop, would come in every now and again. She tipped well too"

Olivia scrunched up her nose, "I have no words right now for what you just told us, none."

"What did he tell you?" Liam asked. The group all turned around to see Liam and Bastien walking into the waiting room.

"Liam, why do you have claw marks all over your face?" Riley asked as she stood up to stand by her husband.

He looked over at Drake with a sneer, "I don't know, ask him."

Drake shrugged his shoulders and faked innocence, "I don't believe I know what you're referring to."

"You know damn well what I'm referring to doctor!" He shouted.

Drake started to giggle, while Riley told him to lower his voice, Bartie was sleeping.

"I will not....do you have any idea what I've been through tonight Drake?" he asked.

"No, but, I've a feeling I'm about to find out"

Liam walked dramatically to the middle of the waiting room and began to pace, moving his hands to express himself. "Let me set the scene for you. I had to deliver a baby....."

Riley sighed and interrupted him, "Liam, I told you we will have our own baby, you can't just keeping asking other people for theirs."

Liam looked at her and said, "Zip it" as he did the zipping motion with his hand and mouth.

"Aha, ha, just don't get your dick caught in it, am I right" Maxwell joked.

Olivia grabbed his arm, "not now Maxwell".

Riley crossed her arms in anger and thought to herself, Liam is going to pay for that little comment later.

"Now, where was I, Oh yes, I was forced into delivering a baby.....

Begin Flashback sequence....

"Doctor! Doctor! Wake up" the nurse yelled while slapping his face.

Liam slowly opened his eyes and started to focus on his surroundings."

The nurse told him he passed out and he reached behind his head to rub the bump that was starting to form. He asked where he was and she told him in the delivery room of the hospital. He questioned why he was there and slid his surgical mask down under his chin.

"You're not Dr. House, who are you?" She asked pointedly.

"I'm...I'm King Liam."

"Yeah right, and I'm a Kardashian".

He looked up at her confused, "what's a Kardashian?"

"Nancy, call security, we have a mental patient that must have gotten away."

"No No No, I really am the King, I swear."

"Okay, your majesty, what are you doing in the maternity ward" she asked sarcastically.

"Getting breastmilk from room 20" he stated with a raspy voice.

"GUARDS!!!!!!"

Liam tried to get up off the floor and run, but, the nurse started to attack him. She sat on top of him clawing at his face while an assistant held his arms down.

Security came in soon after and placed Liam's arms behind his back. As they dragged him out, he kept kicking, thrashing, knocking stuff over and screaming, "TREASON..... TREASON.... TREASON!!!!! I'LL GET ALL OF YOU FOR TREASON!!! Wait, where are you taking me, no, stop, I said stop....in the name of the mother fucking crown, STTTTOOOOPPPPP!!!!!"

He was taken to to the mental health ward. They didn't recognize him or have any missing people on the list, but, at that moment he qualified for admittance.

He was placed in a locked room alone with no furniture or adornments. He stood there with an angry scowl on his face and his arms crossed. Soon after,  two men came in. One had a white pair of pants and a shirt in his hand, the other had a billy club and rubber gloves. The guy with the billy club told him they could either do this the easy way or the hard way. Liam didn't know what "this" was, but, he knew he didn't want to find out. He was instructed to remove his clothes.

"I most certainly will not" he protested.

The guy with the clothes in his hands spoke up, "listen dude, let's just get this over with and we can get you to your room and you'll be able to get a good nights rest, what"dya say?"

"What are you going to do?" Liam asked.

"We need to get you out of those clothes, then do a strip search".

Liam tried to make a run for it, but, both instantly grabbed him.

After this little show of defiance, he was clubbed on the back and fell to the floor, where he began to cry. Bastien quickly came in and explained everything to the orderly's before he was released, with many apologies.

To be continued.....9B will be out later today.

[jojoreadwhat]

T W E L V E • A Gwilym Lee Story | 3. the one with the same cliche story

Sylvia •

Gwilym and Joe’s apartment was intellectually eclectic, and expensive looking. Exquisite crown molding around the room. White washed walls with art and photographs along them. Various different aspects, colored vases and decor. Lots of greenery hanging from the ceilings and shelves. Large bookcases covering the wall from top to floor, opposite of the entertainment center. With a grey couch in the middle of living space. Completely laid out differently compared to ours.

Lucy and Joe could be heard in the kitchen, leaving me to look around. I stood in front of the bookcases. Examining the poets and authors lining the shelves.

All pretty editions, Capote, Burroughs, Huxley to name a few. I picked up On The Road, impressed and just wondering who read these between the two gentlemen living here.

"Liking New York so far?" One of the gentlemen, Joe asked standing next to me now, holding out a glass of wine.

He was quite handsome. Tall standing at five foot nine.!Dark chestnut eyes that somewhat gold from the amber glow nearby. Rich auburn hair. Dressed in a white button down short sleeve, nicely loose against his build, showing off his semi toned arms. Along with a pair of black faded jeans, shaping him out quite admiringly.

I smiled, trying my best to disguise the slight startling of his entry. Placing the book back, before my fingertips met Joe’s lightly.

I shrugged a little, "I mean I've only gotten as far as my fire escape." I answered, then. "But so far I like it." Watching the corners of his lips curl while I took a sip from my glass.

"Please make yourself comfortable." He suggests, his large hand extending to the sofa. His voice lathered in a light New York accent, smooth throughout the room.

I sat down next to him, still observing the artwork on the walls. "Your apartment is really nice." I broke, Joe nodded slightly with a smirk. "Thank you, its more of my roommate's tastes than mine." He replied. I slowly nodded, "Even the books?" I pressed, taking another sip of the bittersweet mix of berries. Joe nodded again, looking over at the collection behind us and resting his arm onto the back of the sofa. "Yeah, I'm more into music."

"Is he like an English professor or something?" I kept going, he shook his head. "He's a photographer." He corrected, "An artiste, he likes to say." He mocked jokingly, before grabbing a peppermint from the wooden box on the coffee table.

"And what do you do?" I asked once more, leaning back and adjusting more comfortably than what the stiff sofa could offer. Trying to balance my interests in both of the neighbors I was gaining for my stay here.

Joe’s lips parted lightly, "A barista in the morning, a deejay by night." The charming pearl of his teeth unveiling. "You know, the cafe is actually hiring. I can ask Jimmy to fit you in for an interview sometime this week." He finished, taking another swig if his beer.

I never worked that task in my life and my mouth just rattled with questions. Joe chuckled, comfortingly that it was easy. Before going on about things he's heard from Lucy at numerous occasions.

"Isn't she a trip?!" Lucy pointed, entering the living room. Joe nodded to the statement when she sat down on the arm chair nearby, her wine glass resting in her hand.

I sat listening, chuckling and pouting to myself because I was running low on the wine I was nursing. Smelling the aroma of the sauce just about done.

Lucy and Joe picked up on a story. Joe talking about my interview for Thursday and Lucy talking about how much of a riot Jimmy is. She was in the mist of beginning a story about him when I heard keys jiggling against the knob.

A dark haired figure coming through before the keys hit the dish on the table next to it. Dressed in black with a brown paper bag resting in his arm.

Lucy turned towards the sound, "Gwil!" She greeted, "Running late like usual." She added, turning and shooting a smile my way. He shot a faint "Hey" before he walked closer to the chair she was in, and the amber lights hitting him more clear now. Portraying more of his features, the dark scruff peppered over his cheeks and jaw. The two buttons undone at the beginning of his collar, shining a silver chain faintly.

"Long day?" Joe added, Gwilym sighed. "Something like that." He answered, his accent being completely different than from Joe. His eyes immediately meeting me, with his brow angling a bit. My eyes bashfully hitting the table in front of me.

"Gwil, this is Sylvia. She'll be staying with me for a while." She explained, catching the slight awkwardness fill the space. His expression relaxed, probably remembering what he was told before. I shyly waved, he smiled when I did so.

Lucy offered to get him a beer, while going to check on dinner. But he shook his head, "I'm good." He replied, fixing the sleeve rolled on his arm. "I have a few in my room." He finished, saying goodnight and exiting himself.

"I wonder what's wrong with him?" Joe said before turned and looked over to me, "He's quite a character." He reassured, only leaving me baffled and gulping the last sip of my glass.

-

A variety pop station played through the alarm clock I uncovered while unpacking my new room. It was a nice room. A blank canvas with white walls and big windows looking out a fire escape to the street and building across. A full size bed, with a nightstand and a white shaped lamp. A large dresser and rack, making up for the closet that was converted into a bathroom.

I kneeled onto the dresser across my bed, lining up ten books and a few vases on the shelf above it.

"Please tell me you've never worn this." Lucy slurred after opening the second bottle of Wine. I turned my head down to her, as she sat pretzel legged on the floor and holding up a cluttered patterned blouse. Finding it as she went through my boxes of clothes, her specialty.

"I have, it was a big hit at the office." I mentioned confidently, she chuckled. "Of course it was, you worked with people over forty." She corrected, folding it before adding. "Another thing we'll work on while you're here. Let you indulge in my discounts." Quietly enough for me to catch.

I rolled my eyes, going back to sorting the look of my shelf. We got quiet again into our jobs. I hummed to myself to the bubblegum playing while I switched to the piles Lucy made on my bed to place into my dresser. The silence between got me thinking, rehashing tonight at dinner across the hall.

I wasn't sure why I allowed it to bother me, I never even heard of Gwilym until today. His first impression made me weary I guess, like I didn't belong. Even with the whole 'something's bothering him.' I was probably overthinking it all, it just gave me a weird vibe.

I looked down at Lucy again, refolding her sloppy technique. "So that guy Gwil." I spoke, seeing her head pop up suddenly.

"What about him?" She questioned, grabbing the bottle and sipping from it. I felt so silly, I shook my head. Forgetting about the whole thing but Lucy insisted.

I place my hands on the dresser with the ugly blouse still in them, "Like" I began, "Is he always so short like that?"

Lucy shook her head, "No, not always." She said, then. "I think he must've had a difficult client or something. He's a bit pretentious at times but confusing most of the time."

I felt my lips form out "Oh." Continuing with the fabric in my hands until I grabbed the next.

-------------------------------

Gwilym •

My morning has been in total chaos from the start. From waking up late and missing the first chute to work, to spilling my coffee over proofs. Then for Lolly to set passwords to all my upcoming appointments. She even went through the extent of calling three clients and booking them all in the same time. Rushing two and losing my touch to get them done. Finally reaching the waiting room for the third and noticing they left and I wasn't going to get paid from Allure anytime soon.

Luckily lunch came around and some of the pictures of the sessions I was able to finish came out exceptional. I closed shop and headed three blocks up to 15th and Canal to Jimmy Bean. Where Joe worked and made my coffee better than what Lolly would get me.

The bell over the door dinged when I entered. The place was busy for the little time before lunch. The dark wood tables taken by one to three people at each. Matching nicely with the different colors painted on the walls and odd pieces of art. Eclectic as the shop was now owned by a bearded hippie man and his wife.

The color leathered stools aligned the counter happened to be empty. I grabbed a newspaper by the door, making my way before I sat heightened from the floor. My black clads resting on the bar below. Reading the city's headlines. Waiting for my friend to get done being flirty with the blonde at table three.

"Want a scone today? Jimmy made blueberry ones." Joe asked, taking a rag to the counter in front of me. I nodded, mouthing a "Please" before my glasses back to the paper and Joe grabbed the fresh pot.

I felt the steam nearing when he poured the hot liquid into the color block mug, "So were you okay last night?" He began, before placing a plate with the scone in front of me.

I sighed, bringing the mug to my mouth and indulging the bitter black mud down my throat. "Lolly quit on me and left me a mess at the studio." I fulfilled.

I went on with a further explanation on what could've made her split. My looks, my persona, the way I was with Keya, or that I played with her feelings which I'm always good for. I know the kind of guy I am, I don't blame her for walking away, even though she left with haste. But I'm glad she learned that nothing was ever going to happen after just fucking her.

Joe eventually derailed the conversation to the importance of our rent and how he had a gig tonight at Drougie's. I was getting a little carried away about a possible gallery show being booked when the kitchen door opened. Jimmy came out blabbing to himself at first while he held it open. Then a short brunette followed after, it was Sylvia, Lucy’s friend.

"Joseph, you'll be training Miss Altman tomorrow morning in between customers." Jim  explained, as he reached her a pin name tag to decorate and a fresh black apron.

I watched as she stood poised, but it was hard for her. "Make her something on the house will ya?" He added before reminding her to be in at seven and going on to greet regulars. Once he turned around, the straightness of her lips curled.

"Thank you soooo much Joe!" She exaggerated gleefully. He just smiled at her, "No problem, no problem." He repeated, before telling her to take a seat and going to give her a 'first lesson.'

Sylvia turned the corner of the counter, her curvy figure coming more into play. Dressed in a black camisole cover by a little black cardigan. With a burnt red skirt meeting at her thigh with buttons down the middle. Loose strands of her dark brown hair falling from her ponytail and meeting her collarbone, wearing a minimal of makeup. She was quite pretty, a lovely smile and so delicate like. She sat with her posture so well and her legs crossed over the knee, showing off her platform slides.

She ordered an iced macchiato, I glanced sheepishly, seeing that she was too from the corner of her blue eyes. I smirked, deciding to redeem myself from last night.

"I apologize for my choppy behavior last night," I began, watching as she turned to me. "I'm Gwilym."

She smiled lightly, "Oh no worries." She reassured, stretching her hand towards me. "Sylvia." Her skin soft to the touch in mine.

We went back to our silence before Joe joined our conversation and opened the door for all to come out on the counter. I watched as she twirled her straw between every sip of her drink and how pretty her lashes were.

"So what made you come to New York?" I asked, she smirked looking at her cup. "Well you know Lucy. She can be abrasive in a good way." She began, "But mainly for a change and I'm looking for something bigger."

The same cliched story for every woman I've ever come across in this city. I nodded slowly, unimpressed. "Typical." I muttered quietly to myself.

Or at least I thought it was.

"Excuse me?" She asked, I shook my head trying to play it off. "Nothing." I pressed, but she crossed her arms over her chest. "What do you mean by 'typical'?" Making air quotations.

I sighed, "It's just your story is just the same like everyone else in this city." I explained, just allowing my foot to go further into my mouth.

Sylvia just huffed, mumbling a simple "Rude."

"And your story is different?" She mocked me, I chuckled. "I mean yes, I came here with a plan." I replied, she chuckled piercingly. "Wow, so different."

I looked at her straight from her mock comment, surprised to say the least that she was not going to back down but I did.

She shook her head by my sudden quietness. Placing a five dollar bill from her clutch into the tip jar before stepping down from the stool.

"Well Im not here to entertain you." She added once more, catching a swift of her perfume as she reached in front of me. "In the mean time, thanks for the scone." Saying a goodbye to a confused Joe and heading on her way.

[left-myself-in-the-alleyway]

Forever & Always

Part 3

Warning: Descriptive abuse, panic attack(s) touches lightly on drinking

To anyone who reads this: I wrote this part before I did any research on panic attacks and such so please be kind.

Thanks to @momobucketcomics for editing/co-writing this and making the mood board below.

More thanks to @devotedlybeautifulkingdom- (Tumblr won’t let me tag you!) for showing support for this story.

-

I felt someone rubbing my back. Someone, or something was comforting me, telling me I was safe. In the state I was in, I'm surprised I could hear it at all. I could feel the sweat trickling down my face, leaving a wet, slimy trail. I also felt myself calming down, albeit slowly.

It's okay. It's okay. I kept telling myself, desperately wanting to believe it.

I sat up straight and leaned back, still trying to fill my lungs. I could barely get enough air in them without feeling like I was suffocating.

I heard someone say my name.

"Mmhhmm...?" I mumble, my eyes still shut tight.

"Evelyn, can you please open your eyes?" I hear a voice that sounds like Tony ask, sounding... concerned?

Slowly, I comply to my so-called father's wishes.

I opened my eyes to see a sea of faces staring at me, worried expressions on their faces.

...Last time I checked, there weren't this many people in the room. Damn, I'm seeing double again.

I rubbed my eyes and took a deep breath. Finally, my head was clear enough to speak normally. "I'm sorry... overreaction." I try to cover up.

"I would like to apologize for asking you that. I didn't know you would react that badly." Thor explained. It was badly worded, but...I knew what he meant.

"It's okay. It's not your fault- I shouldn't have let my mind wander..." The last words drifted off into a mutter- I wonder if he could hear me.

"Do I have a room?" I ask quietly. I don't want to stay here for much longer.

"Yes, I um. Yeah." Tony still looked a bit freaked out about my panic attack. I hope he hasn't bitten off more than he can chew by taking me in...

"I can take her to her room, Tony." Steve offers.

"Thanks, Steve." He replied, walking away.

Steve gave me a smile. "Follow me."

Dragging my feet, I grab my backpack and duffle bag. Panic attacks are exhausting.

As soon as we leave the room, it's just the two of us. The hubbub in the last room seemed to have vanished from existence, as if nothing had happened at all. Huh, guess they have soundproofing here too.

"Are you okay?" He asked as the elevator started to move.

"Yeah. I'm fine." I say, trying to get some form of a smile to form on my face. I hate it when people worry about me- I feel like I'm just a nuisance to them.

"You know, when I first came out of the ice, I had panic attacks. Everything was really overwhelming." He admitted. "I found the best thing I could do was talk to people about what happened. War is an ugly thing. You see a lot of things you wish you hadn't."

"It sounds like...you had a hard time leaving the past in the past and embracing the future" I say quietly as we navigate the halls, a whisper being all I could muster.

"You're pretty smart for someone so young. But that is something that you should remember too. Your past may determine your future, but it doesn't have to rule it." He explains as we come to my door, his pure blue eyes boring into my hazel ones.

"If you ever need anything at all, and you can't find Tony, don't be afraid to come to me for help." He said softly. "Just ask JARVIS to take you to my apartment. It's on this floor."

I scrunch my eyebrows. Apartment? "Everyone here has half a floor, except for myself and Tony. He has a whole floor to himself. I have almost a whole floor, so that's why Tony figured it would be a good idea to put you here." He explained.

My eyes go wide. "That's right, you get a small apartment just for you." He chuckled.

I smiled to myself. Maybe this won't be so bad.

"Remember what I said." He says, walking away.

I walk into my room, exhausted. I let go of my bags, letting them land wherever. It's so clean in here, I feel a slight twinge of guilt for messing up the neatness of everything with my scruffy baggage. I look at the rustic, brown clock. Thank God it’s not some weird futuristic aesthetic design, I hate that kind of stuff . It's 6:00.

That means it's only 3:00 back home.

Home. Somehow, the word feels foreign in my mouth- like a new shoe that'll take getting used to, or... Something.

I look at my messy bags laying haphazardly on the floor. My other luggage must be downstairs, wherever Mr. Hogan put them. I'm too tired to care about anything right now. I've got so much to do, but I can't resist taking a quick nap- Then I'll unpack and check out the rest of the apartment.

I flop down on the couch. Closing my eyes, I still can't believe how much my life could change so much over the course of a few hours.

-

Tony trodded over to the lounge bar, searching for the drink he had left behind earlier. He chugged down the glass of alchohol. Even though it was now room-temperature, he savored it rushing down his throat. Then, without even thinking, he poured himself a glass of the strongest bottle on the shelf- Devil's Springs Vodka. He collapsed on the couch sipping his strong drink.

-

"No, no! Stop it!" I scream at my mother.

She had just returned from wherever it was that she went. Probably the bar, considering her words were extremely slurred. With every step she took, it was heavier than anything- like ten earthquakes simultaneously rocking my world.

She was hitting me, landing blow after blow over and over again. I wish it would stop.

I need it to stop!

I almost got away, but she latched onto my shirt and pulled me back.

"Oh, darling. You're not getting away that easily!" She laughed as she dug her long, inhumanly sharp nails into my arms. I cried out as I felt the skin start to split and bleed.

She shoved me onto the floor. Before I could be relieved at her release, my head caught the corner of the table on my way down. Pain exploded through my head, and I could feel hot blood welling up somewhere on my face. Through my blurry, spotted vision I saw her chug down another bottle of vile-smelling beer.

Then, instead of doing what I hoped she would do, she threw it at me. I screamed as it shattered on the floor, showering me in broken shards. I cried out one last time as I felt the pieces of glass embed themselves in my flesh, burning deeper and deeper inside me. As I struggled to run away, my hands slipped on the floor that was pooling with my blood and tears. It rose ever higher, fueled by my bodily fluids, threatening to flood the entire room. The salty mixture seeped into my fresh wounds, burning them black.

Before I black out, I hear her say something. Her voice was no longer slurred, but crystal clear. It was sick and twisted, familiar and yet of something nightmarish that you'd only hear in the darkest depths of hell.

"Remember, Evelyn; however far you run, no matter how hard you fight back, I will be with you. Forever... and Always." As she growled those last words, everything faded away into darkness.

-

I shot up out of my restless slumber, drenched in cold sweat. My heart was pounding. I quickly pulled up the sleeves of my pullover, thinking I had woken up after being knocked out. There were only fading bruises and scars. Then, I remembered where I was. I breathed a sigh of relief.

I glanced at the clock. I only slept for 45 minutes, and I'd managed to have one of the worst nightmares in history. Oh, jeez.

I started unpacking my measly possessions. Anything to get my mind off That.

Someone had brought the rest of my bags up and put them in my room. I plopped down on the pristine bedsheets, feeling myself sink down into the mattress. It felt much comfier up here than on the couch. Maybe if I'd crashed on an actual bed, I'd have been spared the horrors of that nightmare.

I hung up a few of my tops in the closet. Most of my clothing consisted of long-sleeved sweaters, which I used to wear to school to hide the marks. I also had one sundress and two maxi skirts. They were beautiful, but I couldn't remember the last time I wore them. Standing on my tiptoes, I put a few of my pants and shorts on the shelves. Some of them were messed up, but I threw them in anyway. I was never any good at folding clothes. From there, I head into the bathroom to unpack all of makeup and other... Necessities.

I wonder if there's any dishes in the cupboards. Skipping off to the mini-kitchen, I went to check. Sure enough, there was. There was also food in the fridge! Am I supposed to live by myself, completely? I wonder to myself, checking out the other contents of the various drawers. The countertops were sparkling, and even inside the compartments of the kitchen, not a jar was out of place. Just the way it will stay, clean.

I fiddled with my phone, looking for my favorite playlist. Ah, found it.

Forgettable by Project 46 filled my ears.

I absentmindedly started to hum along to the song- This soon developed into quiet singing.

The song's beautiful and uplifting melody rejuvenated me. It was like a weight was lifted off my shoulders, as I started organizing.

I adjusted a photo of me and my cat, trying to get it just right. I finally get it to sit at the right angle on the little counter beside the kitchen. As I subconsciously sung to the tune of my music, I stepped back to examine the angle of the frame. Suddenly, in between songs, I heard something behind me. It sounded kinda large- maybe mice? Huh, not if the cleaning team can help it. Really Evelyn, this is Stark towers. There won't be mice here. After ridiculing myself a bit more I turn around, thinking I might make some tea. I nearly screamed when I saw a figure in my doorway...