#oops all burned to a crisp

[gay-mathematician-portmanteau]

i can't tell if i genuinely believe there's not a fire in my apartment or if i just can't summon the willpower to care if there is one. anyway, the fire alarm is going off and i haven't moved from my bed.

[tokkiwrites]

𝚄𝚗𝚋𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚄𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝙼𝚢 𝚂𝚔𝚒𝚗.

mom's fiancé/bf! joel miller x f! reader • part two • part three

Summary: Your mom's new fiancé, Joel Miller, is the kind of man you could never shake out of your mind—rugged, rough, and embodiment of your long-buried fantasies. He's been your next-door neighbor for years, and the crush you harbored through your teenage years never really faded. Now, he's with your mom, and they're planning to get married. You should want her to be happy, but you can't ignore the tension growing between you and Joel. It's something that was never meant to happen. But as you uncover Joel's true motives for being with your mom, you realize maybe your feelings weren't one-sided after all. And maybe, despite everything, you’re the one he really wants.

tags: stepcest kind of, age gap (reader is in her mid 20s and joel in his mid 40s), forbidden romance, emotional conflict, slow burn, sexual tension, complicated family dynamics, heartbreak, Joel being an emotionally complicated bastard, ANGST, cheating, infidelity, nsfw, p in v unprotected, breeding kink.

/ᐠ - ˕ -マ⁩ authors note 𑁯 ✿ me writing angst?? wow could never imagine it. i hope you guys like this i dunno what came over me. almost 7k (oops) words of hurt confusion and a filthy finish to dry your tears. not proofread!!

The house smelled like home, like it always had. Fresh cut grass from the lawn, the faint scent of laundry detergent, and the crisp autumn air breezing in through the windows. But the warmth that had once filled it felt absent now, replaced by the coolness of change. A change you hadn’t been able to brace for. Your mother had finally met someone after years of being alone, and that someone was Joel Miller.

You sat at the kitchen table, your fingers trailing the edge of your mug, staring at the steam rising from your coffee. The engagement ring on her finger glinted as she poured a second cup of coffee, smiling to herself. You couldn’t take your eyes off it—the gold band, the small, delicate stone. Joel had chosen it.

"Can you believe it?" she said, laughing lightly. "I didn’t think I’d find someone after your father. But Joel... he’s good to me."

You swallowed hard. "Yeah, Mom. I can tell."

You knew he was good to her. You saw it every time they were together. The way he would brush his hand over her back when he passed her, the way he’d laugh at her jokes. The way she looked at him, like he was everything she had wanted but had never thought to ask for.

But that wasn’t what twisted the knife in your chest.

Joel had always been more than just a neighbor. You’d been only nineteen when you started noticing him, the way a girl starts to notice a man—how his shoulders would flex when he lifted something heavy, the rasp in his voice when he spoke to you, low and careful. He was rough around the edges, with that Southern drawl and hands scarred from years of work. A part of you had always wondered what those hands would feel like on you, against your skin, but you never let the thoughts go far. He was older, after all, and back then, it had been nothing more than an innocent crush. But now he was here, in your life in a way you hadn’t imagined, not as some distant neighbor or a fleeting thought, but your mother’s fiancé. The reality of it made your stomach churn, and you hated yourself for the way your heart still skipped a beat whenever he came around.

"I’m glad you like him," your mom continued, her voice pulling you out of your thoughts. She took a seat across from you, her eyes soft with affection. "I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about this, but... it means a lot to me that you’re okay with it." You forced a smile, the tightness in your chest growing. "Of course. I just want you to be happy." She reached out and touched your hand. "I am."

You wished you could say the same.

The days stretched into weeks, each one bringing you closer to the wedding. The house buzzed with preparations, your mother caught up in a whirlwind of joy and excitement. You tried to blend into the background, to stay out of the way, but it was impossible. Every time you turned around, Joel was there, a steady, looming presence.

One afternoon, you found yourself out in the yard, helping your mom plant some new flowers along the fence. The sun was high in the sky, the heat beating down on your skin. You wiped the sweat from your forehead, focusing on digging the next hole. "Need some help?" Joel’s voice came from behind you, making you jump. You turned, finding him standing there with a shovel in hand, that familiar smirk tugging at his lips. He was wearing a faded flannel, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing the sinewy muscles of his forearms. His hair was streaked with gray at the temples, his face lined with years of hard work and sun exposure, but he was still undeniably handsome. Too handsome.

"No, we’re good here," you replied, keeping your voice steady as you turned back to the soil. Your mom looked up from her spot, grinning. "Actually, Joel, I think we could use a little extra muscle." He chuckled and came over, kneeling beside you, close enough that you could smell the scent of earth and sweat on him. His presence was overpowering, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep your mind from drifting.

"So," he said casually, his voice low as he worked beside you, "you’ve been quiet lately. Everything alright?" You felt his gaze on you, but you didn’t look up. "Yeah, 'm just busy."

"Busy, huh?" He tossed a clump of dirt aside, his tone teasing but not unkind. "You don’t strike me as the busy type." You shrugged. "Things change." Joel paused, his fingers still in the dirt. "That they do." There was a weight to his words, the way he said it, something that settled deep in your bones, like he knew what was deep beneath your facade. You risked a glance at him, and when your eyes met, the air around you seemed to thicken. His gaze was too intense, too knowing, and it made your heart pound in your chest. "Joel, could you help me with these pots in the back?" your mother called, oblivious to the tension that had been steadily growing between you and him.

Joel blinked, breaking the moment. He stood up, brushing the dirt off his hands. "Yeah, sure thing." As he walked away, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. You couldn’t keep going like this.

Temptation lurks.

The engagement party was held at your house, the backyard filled with neighbors, friends, and family. You had helped set everything up, stringing lights across the trees, setting up tables with white linen. Your mother had been glowing all day, her happiness contagious to everyone but you.

You were standing near the bar, sipping on a drink when you saw him. Joel was talking to your uncle by the grill, his hand resting casually on the back of your mother’s chair. You watched as he laughed at something your uncle said, the sound of it rumbling low in his chest. He looked so at ease, so comfortable in this life he had built with your mom. But there was a crack in the facade, something that only you could see. The way his eyes flickered to you, even when he was mid-conversation. The way his smile faltered just for a moment when your gaze met his.

he feels it.

"You look lost in thought." You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound of his voice. Joel was beside you now, his presence like a shadow that followed you everywhere. You forced a smile. "Just thinking." He leaned in a little closer, his voice low enough that only you could hear. "Care to share?" You shook your head, setting your glass down on the bar. "It’s nothing."

Joel’s hand brushed yours as he reached for his own drink, the touch so brief and fleeting, but it sent a jolt of electricity up your arm. He must have felt it too because he hesitated for a moment, his fingers lingering a second too long before he pulled away. "You seem different, sweetheart." he said, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he was trying to figure you out. sweetheart. it sounded so natural, meant just for you. "Not like yourself." He continues. You swallowed hard, avoiding his gaze. "Maybe I’ve changed. Or maybe you don't know me that well."

"Maybe," he said, his voice quieter now, more serious. "But I think I know you better than that." Before you could respond, your mother appeared, smiling brightly as she slipped her arm around Joel’s waist. "There you are!" she said, looking between the two of you. "I was wondering where you disappeared to."

Joel’s eyes never left yours. "Just catching up."

You excused yourself quickly, retreating inside the house, your chest tight with frustration and confusion. You needed air, space, anything to clear your head. But no matter how far you ran, you couldn’t escape the way Joel made you feel. The way you wanted to feel, despite everything.

everything beneath the surface.

The weeks leading up to the wedding were a blur. You kept your distance from Joel as much as you could, but it was impossible to avoid him completely. Every time you saw him, the tension between you grew stronger, pulling you in even when you wanted to push it all away. One evening, after a particularly long day of wedding planning, you found yourself alone on the back porch. The sky was dark, the stars hidden behind thick clouds. You sipped your drink slowly, trying to let the cool night air calm your nerves.

"You okay?"

You turned to find Joel standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable. You hadn’t even heard him come out. You straightened up, trying to keep your voice steady. "I’m fine. Just needed some air." Joel stepped onto the porch, the floorboards creaking under his weight. He didn’t say anything at first, just stood there, his hands in his pockets as he looked out into the yard. The silence stretched between you, thick and heavy. "You’ve been avoidin’ me," he said quietly, his voice low and rough in the quiet night. Your stomach twisted, but you didn’t deny it. "It’s not like that."

"Then what’s it like?" You sighed, setting your drink down and standing up, needing to put some space between you. "Joel, this... it’s complicated. I can’t—"

"Complicated," he repeated, his tone tinged with frustration. He stepped closer, his dark eyes locking onto yours. "It wasn’t complicated before, was it?"

You froze, your breath catching in your throat. His words hit you like a punch to the gut because they were true. It hadn’t always been complicated. Before your mother, before the engagement, there had been something between you and Joel that had lingered, unspoken, for years. Maybe it had been innocent at first, just a crush you’d had on the older man next door. But it had evolved into something else—something dangerous.

"Joel," you whispered, shaking your head, trying to regain control of the conversation, but he was already too close. His presence overwhelmed you, drowning out the rational part of your brain that screamed for you to walk away.

"You feel it too, don’t you?" His voice was almost a whisper now, and the way his eyes bore into yours made it impossible to look away. "I’ve seen the way you look at me, baby." You swallowed hard, your pulse pounding in your ears. "This isn’t fair," you managed, your voice breaking. "You’re marrying my mom, Joel." He winced, as if the words had physically hurt him, but he didn’t back away. "I know," he said, his voice tight. "I know I shouldn’t feel this way. Goddamn it, I tried not to. But I can’t help it, baby, Iㅡ" You took a step back, trying to create some distance, but Joel followed, his gaze never leaving yours. His hand reached out, brushing your arm, and it sent a shiver down your spine. "Don’t—"

"I’m sorry," he murmured, his hand dropping, but his eyes were still fixed on you. "I didn’t mean for this to happen. Should've been ya."

"Then why did it happen?" you asked, your voice breaking with the weight of the question. "Why are you doing this, Joel? Why are you marrying her?" He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "It’s not what you think."

"Then tell me," you pleaded, your voice barely a whisper. "Tell me why you’re with her when—"

"When I want you," Joel finished for you, the rawness in his voice making your heart ache. The admission hung between you, heavy and undeniable. You wanted to pretend you hadn’t heard it, that it didn’t mean anything, but it did. It meant everything.

Your breath hitched as you stared up at him, the world tilting on its axis. You felt the pull between you, that magnetic force that had always been there, but now it was more dangerous than ever. It wasn’t just some unspoken tension anymore. It was real, out in the open, threatening to tear everything apart. "Joel, this isn’t right," you said, your voice trembling, even though your heart screamed at you to move closer to him. "It can’t happen. Not like this."

"I know," he said, stepping closer, his voice barely a rasp. His hand reached for yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. "But that doesn’t change how I feel." You pulled your hand away, the loss of contact almost painful. "You have to stop," you whispered, your throat tight. "You have to marry her. You can’t do this to her." The agony in his eyes was unbearable. "You think I don’t know that?"

You swallowed the lump in your throat, your pulse racing. "Then why are you doing this?"

Joel’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, he looked away, like he couldn’t bear to face the truth. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost broken. "I thought I could love her the way she deserves. I thought... if I just tried hard enough, I could make it work." Your heart ached for him, for your mother, for yourself. "But you don’t, do you?"

His silence was answer enough.

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to stay strong. "You need to go through with the wedding, Joel. My mom... she loves you. She’s happy."

"I know," he murmured, the weight of his guilt evident in his voice. "But what about you? What do you want?" The question hung in the air, suffocating you. What did you want? You wanted him, but not like this. Not in a way that would destroy everything around you. Not in a way that would hurt your mother, who had already been through enough pain. "I want my mom to be happy," you said finally, even though the words felt like they were tearing you apart. "That’s all." even if it was a lie.

Joel stared at you, his expression unreadable, before he finally nodded. "Yeah," he said softly. "Me too." He stepped back then, creating the distance you desperately needed. "I’ll do the right thing," he said, his voice low and resolute. "For her." he wouldn't believe himself either.

You nodded, unable to trust your voice to say anything else. The weight of the moment settled over you both, heavy and oppressive. Without another word, Joel turned and walked back into the house, leaving you standing alone on the porch, your heart shattered into a thousand pieces.

It was all ready to collapse.

The wedding day approached faster than you had anticipated, each moment feeling like a countdown to an inevitable disaster. You tried to bury your feelings, to focus on helping your mom with the final touches, but the weight of what had been left unspoken between you and Joel hung over everything. You hadn’t spoken to him since that night on the porch, and the tension gnawed at you.

The morning of the wedding was bright and warm, the sun filtering through the lace curtains in your bedroom. You stood in front of the mirror, smoothing the soft fabric of your bridesmaid’s dress, trying to shake the growing sense of dread that settled in your chest.

You wanted to be happy for your mom—she looked radiant, glowing in her wedding dress, and she deserved this moment. She deserved love, peace, after the years of struggle she’d endured. But underneath your forced smiles and quiet congratulations, you couldn’t stop thinking about Joel. About his eyes when he looked at you, about the unspoken words still hanging between you.

Downstairs, the house sung with excitement, guests gathering for the ceremony. You could hear the faint sounds of laughter and music, the clinking of glasses as the day unfolded. But it all felt so distant, like you were watching it from the outside, detached from the joy that filled the air.

Just as you were about to head downstairs, there was a soft knock at your door.

You froze, your heart leaping into your throat. You already knew who it was before you even opened the door. Joel stood there, looking as conflicted as you felt. He was dressed in a suit, but the usually rugged man looked uncomfortable in the formal attire. His hair was neatly combed, but there was still that familiar edge to him—rough, worn, and undeniably Joel.

He didn’t say anything at first, just stared at you, his dark eyes clouded with something you couldn’t quite name. "You look beautiful."

"You shouldn’t be here," you whispered, your voice shaky. "I know," he said, his voice low. "But I had to see you. Before—"

"Before what?" you interrupted, your hands trembling. "Before you marry my mom?" Joel’s jaw tightened, and he took a step closer. "I’m sorry," he said, his voice barely audible. "For all of this. For... for everything I’ve put you through." Tears pricked at your eyes, but you blinked them away, refusing to let them fall. "You have to go through with it, Joel. You promised her."

"I know," he murmured, his gaze dropping to the floor. "But I can’t stop thinking about you." The rawness in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, but you forced yourself to stay strong. "You don’t get to do this now," you said, your voice trembling with emotion. "Not today." Joel’s hand reached for yours, but you pulled away, stepping back. "Don’t," you warned. "Please don’t make this harder than it already is." He stared at you for a long moment, his eyes filled with regret, before he finally nodded. "I’m sorry," he said again, his voice breaking. "I’ll... I’ll go."

You watched as he turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing down the hall, each one like a nail in the coffin of what could have been.

Unbeneath.

The wedding was beautiful. The flowers were perfect, the music soft and sweet, and your mother’s face glowed with happiness as she walked down the aisle. Joel stood at the altar, looking handsome and calm, the picture of a man ready to commit to a life with her.

But you saw the cracks beneath the surface. You saw the tension in Joel’s shoulders, the way his jaw clenched as your mother approached him with a radiant smile. You knew he was trying to hold it together, trying to play the part of the perfect groom. But deep down, you could see it—he wasn’t entirely there.

Standing as a bridesmaid near the altar, you forced yourself to smile, to focus on your mother’s joy. But it was like watching a car crash in slow motion. The weight of what Joel had said to you that morning still clung to you, heavy and suffocating. As the officiant began to speak, your heart pounded in your chest. The words felt hollow, echoing in your mind. The vows of eternal love, of commitment, of being faithful—it all felt like a lie. You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to stay focused, trying to hold on for your mother’s sake.

But then Joel glanced at you.

It was brief—just a flicker of his eyes in your direction, but it was enough to make your breath catch. His gaze was filled with conflict, guilt, and something else you couldn’t name. And in that moment, you knew—he was thinking about you. Even here, even now, when he was supposed to be pledging his life to your mother.

Time seemed to slow as the officiant asked Joel to recite his vows. He hesitated for just a second too long, the pause so subtle that no one else seemed to notice. But you did. You could see the struggle in his eyes, the battle between doing what was right and doing what he wanted.

"I, Joel, take you—" His voice caught, barely noticeable, but you saw it. He cleared his throat, trying again. "I take you, to be my wife."

Each word felt like a stone dropping into a bottomless well.

Your mother smiled at him, tears of joy in her eyes. She was completely unaware of the storm brewing beneath the surface. She believed in this moment, believed in the future they were about to share. And you hated that you couldn’t give her that same belief, that you couldn’t share in her happiness.

When the ceremony ended and the guests erupted in applause, you clapped along with them, your hands numb and mechanical. The celebration carried on around you—people laughing, clinking glasses, congratulating the happy couple—but you felt like you were standing on the edge of a cliff, the ground crumbling beneath you.

At the reception, you stayed at the far end of the garden, away from the crowd. The string lights twinkled above, casting a soft glow on the scene, but the beauty of it all felt distant, unreachable. You sipped your champagne, staring blankly at the dance floor where Joel and your mother swayed together. They looked perfect, like a picture from a magazine. But you knew better.

Your thoughts were interrupted when Joel came up beside you, his presence like a storm cloud looming on the horizon. His tie was loosened, the top button of his shirt undone, and there was a weariness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.

"You disappeared on me," he said quietly, his voice barely audible over the music and chatter. You didn’t look at him, keeping your eyes on the dance floor. "Just needed a moment." He let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. "I didn’t mean for things to get this way. Please believe me, I didn’t knowㅡ didn't know she'd fall." You finally turned to face him, the rawness of his words cutting into you. "Well, they are and she did so.."

Joel looked at you with an intensity that made your heart ache, the same look he’d had earlier that morning. "I can’t stop thinking about you, baby." he repeated softly, his voice rough with emotion. "Even now. Especially now."

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to speak. "You need to stop," you whispered, your voice trembling. "You made your choice. You married her. I don't even know what your plan was."

"I know," he said, his voice tight with frustration. "I know what I did, but that doesn’t change what I feel. It doesn’t change this." He gestured between the two of you, his eyes pleading. "I never wanted to hurt you, or your mom. But... I can’t pretend anymore. Not with you." Your chest tightened, the pain almost unbearable. "You have to pretend, Joel. You have to. For her." He stared at you, his expression torn between guilt and desire. "And what about you? What about us?"

"There is no us, Joel. Never was." You said the words like poison in your mouth. "There can’t be." Joel’s hand reached out, his fingers brushing your arm, and the familiar spark shot through you, the one you’d tried so hard to ignore. His touch lingered for a moment before he pulled away, his eyes dark and unreadable.

"You’re right," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "There can’t be." But the words felt like a lie the moment they left his lips because despite everything, despite the weight of his new vows, you saw him lean in closer. His breath mingled with yours, and his eyes-filled with guilt, longing, and desperation bore into you. His lips inched toward yours, the world around you fading into a blur of muted colors and distant laughter. People were far enough to not see you, but that didn't make it any easier. Your heart pounded, your breath shaky as you felt the warmth of his body close to yours. You knew this was wrong, that you should push him away, but your body betrayed you. The yearning, the suppressed need that had lingered between you for years, finally pushed through the cracks.

With one last glance into your glassy eyes, as if seeking permission-or maybe forgivenessㅡ Joel closed the distance.

His lips intertwined with yours, soft and rough at the same time, filled with everything that had been left unsaid. You froze for a moment, the shock of it crashing through you like a tidal wave. But then something snapped inside you, and you kissed him back. All of the restraint, the pain, the buried feelings surged to the surface, spilling into that one kiss.

His hands cupped your face gently, his touch tender despite the intensity of the moment. The world around you ceased to exist. It was just you and Joel, a stolen moment in a sea of impossibilities. His lips moved against yours with a desperation that mirrored your own, as if both of you knew this would be the only time you'd have. As if the kiss had to say everything words couldn't

But then, just as quickly as it had begun, reality crashed back in. You broke away, gasping for air, your chest heaving. The warmth of his touch still lingered on your skin. Neither of you moved, neither of you spoke, and for a moment, it felt like the world had stopped spinning. Finally, Joel stepped back, his face hardening as he shoved his hands into his pockets. "I’m sorry," he muttered, though you knew the apology wouldn’t fix anything.

You watched as he walked away, back to the party, back to your mother—the woman he had chosen. The woman he was supposed to love. Your heart broke all over again as you realized that no matter what you felt for him, no matter what he felt for you, it would never be enough to change the reality of the situation.

And so, you stood there, the cold night air brushing against your skin, watching as Joel rejoined the celebration. The sounds of laughter and music filled the garden, but all you could hear was the silence between you and the man you could never have.

Was one night really that important?

You stood there, alone in the shadows, the air growing colder around you. The question gnawed at you, refusing to let go. What harm could it do? One night. One moment where none of thisㅡ none of the guilt, the secrecy, or the heartbreak mattered. No one would know. No one had to.

Would it really hurt?

The thought was reckless, dangerous even, but it lingered, growing more persistent with each passing second. Your mind kept replaying the way Joel had kissed you, the heat and desperation in his touch, the wayyou had kissed him back without hesitation, as if your bodies knew what your hearts refused to admit. You hadn't wanted to stop. And he hadn't either.

Your breath quickened as you thought of him, standing there, so close you could still feel the faint echo of his warmth, his scent, the way he had made you feel as though the world had disappeared, as if nothing else mattered but the f you, in that moment.

No. You couldn't. You couldn't do this to your mother. You couldn't betray her like that, not even for one night, no matter how desperately you wanted him. But the longing was still there, a dark ache deep in your chest, making it harder and harder to ignore. You let out a quiet, shuddering breath and looked back toward the reception toward Joel, who was now standing by the bar, talking with a few guests. The smile he gave them was easy, practiced, but you could still see the shadows under his eyes. You could still see the guilt that gnawed at him from the inside.

What if nobody knew? What if this one mistake, this one selfish moment, stayed just between the two of you? What if you could find a way to make it work-just for one night, just to feel what it was like to truly have him without the weight of the world pressing down on your shoulders?

You swallowed hard. you could still taste his kiss on your lips. You could still feel the burn of his fingertips against your skin.

But then, you remembered your mother's face. Her warmth. Her trust. She was so happy, so completely in love. The thought of betraying her, even just for a moment, tore you apart. Could you really live with that kind of guilt?

No.

Butㅡ

You closed your eyes and exhaled, trying to quiet the storm inside you, trying to remind yourself of what was right. This wasn't a fleeting desireㅡ it was a devastating disaster waiting to happen

And yet, your body ached with the need to be close to Joel again. The yearning, the intensity of that single kiss and one pathetic touch, it was too much to ignore. You had given in once, but you couldn't go down that path again.

You took a step away from the garden, retreating into the shadows. Maybe it was better this way. Maybe one night wasn't worth it. But then you heard his voice, low and familiar, cutting through the noise. He was closer than you expected.

"Hey."

You froze, your heart stuttering in your chest. You didn't need to turn around to know it was Joel. His voice was all too familiar now. He stepped into the shadows with you, the dim light casting sharp lines across his face, making him appear even more worn, more conflicted. "Iㅡ" He hesitated, his voice thick with emotion. "I shouldn't have kissed you earlier. I know I shouldn't have."

You didn't say anything. You couldn't. You didn’t regret it. You wish it never ended.

Joel's gaze softened, and he stepped closer, but you kept your distance. He seemed to notice the space between you, the invisible barrier that neither of you wanted to cross but couldn't help but feel. "I don't know what to do anymore," he said. "I just know I don't want to lose you." His words shattered what little resolve you had left.

And in that moment, everything that had been building between you, the unspoken, the impossibleㅡ became undeniable. It was wrong. It was selfish. But here he was, standing before you, asking you for something you both knew you could never truly have. And for a moment, it didn't matter that it was wrong

You let out a shaky breath, your voice barely a whisper. "One night," you murmured. "Just... one night."

Joel froze. His eyes searched yours, and for a second, it seemed as if he might say no. But then his hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you toward him, his lips catching yours in a kiss that was deeper this time, hungry, urgent. There were no more words between you, just the frantic need to close the distance between your hearts, to feel something real, even if it was only for one night.

As his hands wrapped around you, pulling you closer, there was a fleeting moment of clarity,a brief flash of the consequences. But it was swallowed up by the heat of the kiss, the intoxicating feeling of finally giving in to the desire that had been burning between you for years,

It was wrong. It was a mistake

But as Joel's lips moved against yours again, you forgot about everything else. Joel’s hand slid to your wrist before you could pull away, a firm, steady grip that tugged you gently toward him, toward the quiet behind the chaos. The party’s laughter and chatter were left in the distance, fading as you followed him, the night air thick with tension.

"We should go to a room," he whispered, his voice hoarse and urgent, almost pleading. "The party still has a few more hours before it ends. Don't worry, baby. It'll all be okay. She won’t even notice we're gone." You looked at him, heart racing, mind reeling, torn between the gravity of his words and the electric heat still burning in your chest from the kiss. He was leading you, his hand wrapped around your wrist, guiding you through the garden, toward the back of the house where the guest rooms lay hidden behind thick foliage and shadows.

You followed, not because you were sure, but because the pull between you was undeniable. You didn’t trust yourself to speak, and maybe you didn’t want to. His pace quickened as he sensed your hesitation, his breath hitching, more desperate now, as though he needed you to understand. "We can’t keep doing this," he said, his tone a mix of anger and longing. "We can’t keep pretending like we don’t feel it. This—" he glanced back at you, "this is what we've been needing for so long."

You could barely catch your breath as you stepped into the hallway of the house, away from the party. The muffled noise of music and chatter was barely a memory now. The quiet was heavier, more intimate. And when you finally stopped, your back pressed against the closed door of a guest room, you both stood there in the dim room, hearts pounding like they were about to burst.

His hands were still on you, strong but gentle, but this time, they didn’t move to pull you in. Instead, he lingered, his fingers barely grazing the skin of your arms as though he was afraid of breaking something fragile—something that might never be repaired.

"Joel..." Your voice was soft, porcelain, and it trembled in the stillness of the room. "Please.." you can hear him mumble a soft 'fuck' before his lips crash onto the exposed skin on your neck, his hands roaming your body like he's been waiting to do this for a thousand years. he quickly manages to discard the jacket of his tuxedo and unzip the back of your dress, your hair that was neatly pulled up now down on your shoulders. "You're so beautiful, baby. Always have beenㅡ god, I was so stupid not doin' this earlier." Your mind reeled, cunt pulsimg. You closed your eyes, trying to steady your breath, trying to steady your pulse. the fire between you crackled and burned hotter, and for tonight, you gave into it.

"Joel, please, justㅡ touch me, please.." he nods his head. "fuck, yeah, okay. You sound so pretty when you're desperate." you shudder at his words, a soft moan slipping from your lips. " 'm gonna fuck you tonight 'n make up for all of the nights i didn't." that was a promise.

you were now almost fully naked, the only thing covering your body was a soft, laced, white set you had on. "Pretty girl." he begins to discard those items from you too, but removes only the bra, leaving the white panties on. you look up at him, his presence swallowing you whole. without words you reach our hands out, promptly placing them on the hem of his pants and starting to unbuckle the belt he had on. you fingers fumble from the tension, but you finally do it. you trail you fingers onto his abdomen, drawing small hearts before you hear him growl. he picks you up swiftly and throws you on the bed settled in the middle of the room. his pants come undone so he pulls them off fully. "Spread your legs, baby." you do, your pussy spilling over the lace that barely covered anything. his rough fingertips trace your clothed folds, making you look away. "Look at me. Look at me, tell me what you want."

"Want you, Joel.." he hums. he pulls the panties to the side, eyes fixed on the way your cunt glistened under the dim light. its not long before he gets on his knees between your legs. "sweet girl. been dyin' to know what's inside that pretty head of yours when you look at me like that." His fingers brushed a loose strand of hair from your face. "you know how much i had to hold back? wanted to ravage you, toㅡ" he trails "to destroy you. make you beg for me to stop..." joel leans down, his rough beard tickling your neck, drawing a soft moan from between your lips.

"Sure you want this, darlin?" Nipping at your bottom lip, he waits for your signal. "So sure." This is it, the moment you had only dreamed of. that's when his lips crashed against yours again, his mustache pricking your skin. you kissed back, hungry, so hungry like you've never felt before.

"want that pretty pussy wrapped around my cock." you whimper pathetically at his dirty words. dirty. dirty like his touch that left your skin tainted, dirty like how you know you'll feel after all of this is over.

but you like dirty. you love dirty.

joel pressed himself against you, his briefs now fully off. fuck, he was huge. his leaking tip was pressing against your folds. "so wet, baby. all this for me? c'mon, let me hear you say it."

" 's all for y-ou, Joel ㅡ" you choked back a moan, pushing yourself back onto his bulge. he laughs, tilting his head to the side slightly. be drags the pulsing tip up and down, up and down again and again, as if he didn't make you wait long enough for it. after he thinks its sufficient, he starts to push inside, causing you to bite onto your forearm and shut your eyes as tears welled up in them. "atta girlㅡ you can take it. you're a big girl, ain't ya?" he teased. "My little girl, takin' my cock so well."

by the time he was fully inside, you were a mess, tears stained your cheeks, drool at the corners of your mouth covered in smudged lipstick ㅡ you were in a dream for sure. joel moves, at first, slowly as to let you adjust. he's patient. praises trail onto you as he kisses little pecks on the small of your back. "That's it, darlin'. take it all." your body trembles from every breath and touch of his.

his pace picks up, skin hitting yours roughly, fingers tangled in your hair and his other palm flush against your belly. "feel me there, sweet girl?"

"I- yes, yes, please, p-please ㅡ " You were hanging on the mattress for dear life, your brain foggy. nothing made sense but this. Joel buried deep inside of you. he fucked you hard, and deep, your stomach churning at every hit. his calloused hands gripped tightly at you hips, his moves now more ragged.

"shitㅡ whish I married you, baby.." he says through grunts, palms still gripping your hips. "Wish it were you there in that dress. 'm sorryㅡ" you cry a little louder as you feel his dick twitch inside of you. "let me put a baby in you, sweet girl, we can run away andㅡ fuck, run away and be happy. have our own little family." your eyes roll to the back of your head. "Joel, Iㅡ"

"You'd want that? imma make you a mommaㅡ my pretty wife, god."

" 'm s-so close, Joel, please "

"I know, baby, I know. Y-You go ahead." With a few more snaps of his hips, you're both coming, bodies writhing, as his head falls upon your chest. For a long, heavy moment, the world outside the room seemed to vanish. All that was left was the two of you, in that silent little room.

Joel pulls out, making you moan. He watches intently as his seed drips out of you, licking his lips as a palm rubs your lower belly. He hopes it'll stick.

[inkskinned]

there's this video you've probably seen already where a woman is shaking in front of a microphone and delicately tries to ask - how can i make my husband listen to me, i've tried everything, i don't want to seem ungrateful and the other man laughs - the problem is that you married a man, we're only listening 25% of the time and we only understand 5% of that! and the audience laughs and the woman laughs and you just sat there, phone in your hand, letting the sound of it echo

and the thing is that people make think-pieces about it (isn't this one of them) and satire versions and "flipping the script" which is good and fun but at the end of the day, there's some truth in that man's response about men-not-listening. and you have tried to language that feeling for years, this sense that you can only take up 33% of a conversation before others view it as being "dominating".

it's not that they aren't listening, it's that the action they're taking is purposefully silencing. it's different. you accidentally-don't-listen a lot; just because the world is loud and you're distracted. you don't mean anything by it. and the truth is that the man who spoke is relying on that to be true of you; the way it's true of everyone. but there is a different undertone to his kind of not-listening. what he means is they don't respect you and you shouldn't expect them to. there is a difference between oh shit i forgot to take the trash out and why didn't you remind me to do it, just like there is a difference between i didn't realize you wanted to go out this weekend and why do you expect me to plan things why can't you just tell me where we're going.

and the thing is that it isn't just him, and it's actually not just because of your gender - your skin, your class status, your weight, their ableism - it happens often. so often it feels like a tightness around your throat and a weight in your stomach. you're not even "really" allowed to be upset about it, because to them it's a joke. and they laugh. and you know exactly the amount of work that goes into every conversation. how you have to work to condense down your thoughts into intelligent, crisp soundbites; worried someone will try to swoop in and cut you off. and there's this sense from everyone else - oh stop being so sensitive, are you really upset just because they weren't listening and you don't know how to say the way that feels when it happens constantly.

there's that video of the science summit where a woman in the audience finally says let her speak please! and the whole crowd bursts into applause and the man leading the summit holds up his hands and bows his head and says oops, sorry! like what he did was awkward and embarrassing, a little social gaffe that happens easily. later in your meetings, you're asked to take notes, and you don't say anything, you just hear let her speak please! ringing in your head and know that you'll never be brave enough for that kind of thing. and besides. think of all the people who agree this was a one-off, he just got excited and all of the people who say one man is not indicative of all of society

at the dinner table you're talking about someone you don't like and how he's not good to his girlfriend and how she always has to remind him to put the effort in and before him, she was glowing with curiosity and passion but now she just seems... tired, unhappy. that he likes the way she burns out; she stays home and takes care of him and their 2 kids. and your father sniffs and says that men take a while to learn those kinds of things. and you just stare at him and think about your childhood and are like - no wonder i turned out like this

and you want to say - there's no fucking secret school or mystic form of communication. i was not sent to Rearing a Child University. i did not graduate from Getting Chores Done College. i ask questions and i listen and i pay attention, because that's basic fucking human decency. it stems from respect, and how i respect others and their agency. i clean the house because someone should clean. not because it comes "naturally".

hell, you had to google "how to boil an egg" the other day, just because you usually make them scrambled. you can never remember which of the 2 bathroom cleaners make chlorine gas, only that two of them definitely do. you've accidentally bleached your clothes. it took you like 3 years of self-teaching before you figured out how to actually cook things correctly - for that whole time, you burnt or undercooked everything. but you did teach yourself; just like you taught yourself how to listen with empathy. just like how you taught yourself to think before you speak. to be kind first, to be better at communicating. it seemed like a good thing, an adult thing.

the joke the man in the video makes is that women say i'm fine! when they are not fine. and you think about the 150 conversations that happened around that; about how she probably has had so many arguments with her husband. how she said i'm upset you don't take me anywhere and he got mad at her because of course i do, you made me go to that stupid restaurant like last week and she probably said that's not what i'm saying and he said now i'm supposed to be psychic or something and she said no of course not and he said how am i supposed to know what to do when you don't even like everything and she said i do like things and he said well how am i supposed to win? and her pastor probably told her to be more grateful because they do things at all, even if she has to plan them and her mom probably told her that's just how men are honey and she probably cried over her journal, trying to figure out why the fuck she "has everything" and is still so bitterly, horribly unhappy

and how, in your life, for so many reasons, you looked down the barrel of another argument; of explaining yourself and being vulnerable and begging for help again. how many times you just said i'm fine because it was better than doing that again; it was better than wringing yourself out when it's literally easier to just pretend. because he wasn't going to listen. your father wasn't going to be better and your boyfriend wasn't going to be better and your boss wasn't going to be more respectful.

and you sit in front of a video of a woman shaking, looking horrible and guilt-wrought that she's even asking this question. and you know; deep in your heart - that's you. in a different life, you are her. you've stood in her spot. and you had to listen while someone else cackled - why would we bother to notice when you talk?

[st4rbwrry]

𝓗𝓐𝓤𝓝𝓣𝓔𝓓.   charlie mayhew.

ᰔᩚ warnings . . . 3.0k, fem!reader, lowercase intended, sacrilegious acts/blasphemy, rough sex, unprotected sex, ‘father’ kink, fingering, teasing, praise, oral fixation, infatuation, minors aren’t allowed! reblogs + comments are appreciated. ♡

꒰ 𝑚𝑜𝑐ℎ𝑎’𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒 ! ꒱ . . . dunno if nicholas is still canceled or not but idc, he’s still hot n i’m feeding my lust w his character from grotesquerie. here's an edit, oop another for visuals. <3

“forgive me father . . for i have sinned.”

father mayhew found himself drawn to your presence beyond the usual pastoral concern. your gentle demeanor, soft-spoken words, and captivating features. from your luscious curls to your plump, inviting lips stirred something deep within him. something sinful. as the weeks passed, his fascination grew. he looked forward to your weekly visits, anticipating the chance to hear your voice, to offer guidance while secretly drinking in the sight of you. he found himself lost in thought about you during sermons, imagining the curves of your body beneath your modest attire, or the perverted delicacy of your moans. he realized his attraction had evolved from mere curiosity to a full-blown obsession. vivid images of you haunted his mind. he replayed the cadence of your voice, the way your hands clasped together in supplication, and the tantalizing glimpse of cleavage when you bent to recite your prayers.

father mayhew had succumbed to his darkest impulses.

driven by a hunger he'd never known, he began to concoct scenarios in which he could be alone with you, away from prying eyes. late nights found him poring over scripture, searching for justification for his forbidden desires. his once pure intentions as a priest had given way to a dark, all-consuming lust.

father mayhew stood before you in his full priestly regalia, the crisp white collar stark against the black fabric of his cassock. the garment fell to just above his ankles, the hem swaying gently as he moved. a wide, white stole draped across his chest, the vibrant red embroidery glinting in the candlelight. his hair is always neatly combed back, revealing the strong contours of his face. dark eyes gazed at you intently, a look of stern authority tempered by the lingering heat of desire. he held a heavy, leather-bound bible in his right hand, the pages well-worn from years of use.

“confess your sins.”

inhaling sharply, you fiddle with the hem of your dress before speaking. anxiously gnawing at the plush of your bottom lip. this felt embarrassing, unsure of how to start, but aware that if you didn’t it, would continue to eat at your soul. if it wasn’t put into the air now, you’ll never let it out.

“i’m not exactly sure how to say it.”

“be as honest with me as you can.���’

gently, you inhale a rigid breath. “lately i’ve been having . . what you call erotic dreams of someone i’m close to. someone whom i deeply admire and respect. i even find myself tending to those urges almost daily since i’ve known him."

his eyes widen briefly at your admission before regaining composure, his voice low and measured. he must ignore the faint burn of jealousy that scorns in his chest. the recent events of infatuation for you turning possessive.

“i appreciate your honesty. it takes tremendous strength to bear one's soul in this way. please know that you are not alone and there is no shame in struggling with temptation.”

“i don’t feel like myself lately. i’ve never felt so consumed by a person. my thoughts are overbearing, it’s nearly driving me off edge. i don’t believe this is of normalcy.”

he nods. “i too have grappled with impure thoughts and desires. as priests, we are human beings first and foremost . . imperfect vessels striving to serve god and his flock. never doubt that your feelings aren’t valid and worthy of compassion.”

you swallow, heart thrumming against your ribcage, slightly turning your body to face the man whose figure you faintly see behind the barricaded gate. you swear you see him tense, eyes drifting to yours before clearing his throat and squeezing at the bible in hand, bowing his head with eyes shut, trying to block off your sweet scent enveloping the small confinement.

“do you wish to speak more?” he asks, voice raspier.

“i-i . . have a more dire truth.”

“which is?”

“those impure thoughts, taunting me day and night. . are of you, father charlie.”

in a normal setting, he’d react with amusement. though this wasn’t the place to express and endure those primal thoughts, he had to remain diligent. the heat emerges within his body in waves, tonguing his cheek hard before fixing his posture and deciding to respond.

“i would be remiss in my duty as both your priest and confidant if i did not offer solace. being said, perhaps we can meet privately. tomorrow night . . so we won’t be disrupted.”

your pulse quickens at the thought of meeting him alone, intimately, without a prying eye to judge. you don’t question how quickly he is to come to that decision, a part of you knowing that he felt the exact same. that only enticed you.

“yes, father. of course."

and on that saturday night, you find yourself making your way to his modest quarters above the rectory, the nervousness coats your entire body, thoughts racing on what could happen tonight. one sticking out in obvious detail. the snow white of your sundress imprinted with tiny flowers is anxiously toyed with at the ends by your french manicured nails. your hair is pulled back from your angelic face, held up by a claw clip. the hallway towards his private bedroom seemed excruciating long, wind from the open windows blowing in warmth, flowing with the white curtains eerily.

knocking on the wooden door, the last thing you expected to see when you arrived was father mayhew greatly exposed, his hair slightly damped, combed back per usual, coils of curls sticking up on the nape of his neck. beauty marks littered along his torso in constellations. he’s fixated, slanted eyes glaring down at you intensely with longing. he hums, scanning you from head to toe. a white towel is the only fabric piece on his body, covering his lower half, vein-covered arm stretching the door further, greeting you with a smile that borders on sinister.

“꒰♡꒱,” he ushers you inside, the scent of his cologne making you dizzy.

a gasp releases softly as you enter, continuing to take in the sight of father mayhew’s toned physique, chiseled features illuminated by the moonlight filtering through the vintage window. you feel a rush of heat coursing through your veins, body responding instinctively to his raw, unbridled desire.

“father . . .” you whisper, voice trembling slightly as you step closer, drawn to the aura of masculinity emanating from him. your eyes roam over his exposed skin, taking in the sight of his defined muscles and the trail of dark hair leading down from his navel. the itch to reach out and trace a finger along the edge of his towel strikes you hard, needing to remain somewhat composed.

the silence is deafening, the creak of the door shutting and the broadness of his body hovering over you makes your clit pulse hard. words weren’t necessary to exchange, both of your eyes read what you equally wanted, and needed. he stands before you, placing a hand on the wall behind you, his other reaching out to gently cup your cheek, thumb stroking your soft skin, eyes locked onto yours searching for any sign of hesitation or regret.

“father,” your eyes shyly avoid his stern gaze, the imprint of his dick hard behind it’s towel, close to touching your stomach. “is this okay? i mean . . this is a sin. for the two of us.”

his breath mingles with yours, expression turning solemn as he begins to speak. “what we do remains within these walls. we are all embodiments of a sin. we will give grace, and we will be forgiven.”

savoring the warmth of his touch, you can see the fire burning in his eyes, mirroring your own desire. ample curves mold to his firm contours, his hands taking yours to raise them above your head, pining you still amongst the wall. his breath on your neck makes your skin prickle with heat, squeezing your thighs together when his lips hover by your earlobe.

“lust is a temptation we must all face. it is a primal urge, a craving for physical connection and pleasure that can lead us astray if not kept in check,” he rasps, mouth falling open to kiss and slide his thick tongue against your collarbone, tasting you with a greedy moan.

the act makes you whimper, fingertips reaching for his towel, deliberately tugging to let it fall to the floor and pool at his feet. a low groan escapes his throat, dick hard and slapping on his thick thigh. his mouth trails along the other side of your neck, pushing his hips forward as you moan into his ear, trailing your fingers up to the dark brown tresses of his hair to fist.

“lust is not inherently evil. in its purest form, it is a natural part of the human experience, a drive that propels us toward union and creation,” father mayhew finally captures your lips in a heated kiss, tongue delving into your mouth with a hunger bordering on feral, your throat evoking a deep moan, catching up with his pace.

he breaks the kiss to your displeasure, panting harshly, his eyes glazed with lust. father mayhew keeps your body up against the wall, removing his hands from your wrists, not before sternly saying, “keep them there.”

that voice again, so deep and salacious it goes straight to your clit. the dampness of your arousal seeps through your panties now, physically announcing your desperate need for him. within seconds, he’s crouching below you, pink lips peppering kisses along your navel after lifting your dress up, hot fingers indenting into the flesh of your hips he slicks his tongue on. you can’t help but continue whimpering, shifting your waist as a show of urgency.

“i wonder," he trails off, slender fingers gently sliding off your thong, a string of slick coming along with it. you hastily step out of them, watching him throw your right leg over his shoulder, mouth so close to your pussy. “if the key is to recognize when our desires become excessive when they begin to consume us rather than serve as a healthy expression of our needs.”

“i don't care anymore, father,” you breathe, his lips hovering your mound. “i crave you, i need you. we can repent for our sins later.“

the muscles in his jaw clench, lashes angelically kissing his cheekbones. he wetly gives an open-mouthed kiss to the curve between your hip and thigh, staring at you. “so fuck it.”

“fuck it,” you nod, chest heaving, your pent-up arousal unbelievable.

“i want to lose myself in you, consequences be damned.”

with his jaw slacking, his mouth encapsulates your clit, rough tongue following the lead. a thankful shudder emits from you, keeping your hands molded to the wall like he told you. his eyes never leave your face, the wet interaction sounding the room as he sucks and pulls on your engorged clit with his lips. separating your legs further so he can taste everything that leaks from you.

“mhm, fuck. that's what i needed,” he growls into your pussy, chin getting wet and head moving to slick his face up and down, swallowing and moaning. he begins to delve his tongue into your opening where it only gets wetter, fucking into you with his nose to your clit and your inner thighs trembling.

you can’t take not touching him, going to fist his hair with your eyes scrolling to the back of your head, lips quivering from the ache of finally being given the pleasure you dreamt of.

“put your fingers in me, baby,” you whine, gripping at the nape of his neck to gently pull him back, needing it now.

“let me handle you. don’t speak.”

whining from the harsh hit he gives your outer thigh, you nod your head to his need, gathering more of his hair to tug while he gives your pussy one more big kiss and sucking at his own fingers quickly after. his salvia trickles down to his knuckles as he wets his fingers, sinking his pointer and middle simultaneously into your awaiting pussy.

“fuck,” he curses immediately after, the clench and greedy pull your pussy does around them only makes him spank you again. they’re so thick inside of you, squelching around them along with grinding down pleadingly, and he thinks you look angelic.

“my sweet, sinful girl," father mayhew’s lips continue to curl up wickedly, dropping your leg and standing back to his full height, missing your face in his.

the pads of his fingers roll over your clit, spread open completely for him, his head slightly cocked to watch you, faces inches apart. he studies the way your mouth falters open as he gathers your cum around his fingers after dragging two of them between your folds, slowly sinking them back inside, testing the waters. your toes curl instantly, bucking your hips into his hand as his thumb presses your puffy clit and you finally breathe out a loud moan. he takes his time savoring the way your walls clamp around him, begging without words to pull him deeper.

“there you go," he gasps with you as he fucks into you faster, knuckles deep, palm slick and slapping against your clit. you shudder under his control, gut twisting when he kisses you, tongues swirling together, eyelids droopy as you suck each other's lips, biting him to taste a hint of blood.

“i need to be inside of you,” he heaves, having enough of the foreplay. he’s been thinking about this for far too long. it was painful enough having to restrain himself. “fuck, you’re pretty.”

it ignites something nasty inside of you when father mayhew tucks your body beneath him to align his throbbing dick dripping with delicious precum to your pussy, stuffing and stretching you within the blink of an eye. he cooed after hearing you squeal and whimper, leveling his body to lock his forearms underneath the backs of your knees, hovering you above him and backing away from the wall. he easily balances both of your weights, your arms holding onto the back of his neck with your back arching and stomach pressing hotly to his scorching skin.

“that’s it, take it all,” he grunts, fingers sprawled across your hips and ass to push you down so his dick is engulfed into you. “fuck, you feel real good.”

“fuck me, please. m’begging you,” the tears welling in your eyes activate something inside of him he’s never felt before, heart thrashing in his chest as he grants you a rough kiss on your mouth before drawing his hips back to slam you up and down on his thick dick, the veiny ridges catering to every aching part inside of you.

“o-oh, my g-god,” you whisper in his ear, clawing into his back and burying your face into the crook of his neck, listening to the harshness of your ass clapping down onto his broad thighs the heavier he drops you down. “ngh, s’fuckin’ good.”

“mhm hmm,” is all he can get out, hissing and holding you up so the tip is only kissing your entrance before pounding into you with steady, rough strokes. the burn on his back from your scratches fuels him, grunting in your ear and fucking you deep. so deep you can’t control those filthy sounds he loves too badly.

“call me by my name,” he grits his teeth, your juices dripping down his balls that jump out of reaction from your dulcet voice. “right now, ꒰♡꒱. don’t be scared now.”

“charlie,” you whimper, pulling your face up to stare into his crepuscular eyes, near gone.

“no,” he shakes his head. “how do you address me, ꒰♡꒱.”

lips pouty, you lean in to kiss him, mouths smacking together wetly, his hips hastening, your mouth slacking and cries falling when he begins to hit that good spot, almost losing your mind. “f-fuck, y-yessss! stay there, stay there please, father!”

“god, yes,” the dark bush of his eyebrows furrow on his face as he focuses on the tightness around his cock, sticking his tongue out of his mouth needing you to do the same. your tongue glides along his, father mayhew sucking on yours and thrusting harder. “greedy girl.”

your body begins to convulse, muscles tensing as the coil in your tummy tightens, aiding you to cum hard on his dick. he probed deeper, swiveling his hips and knocking into you rough and your pussy creams on him, tightening and pulsating as you cum and shake almost violently.

“anh—ughhh, b-baby.”

father mayhew watches your voice contort from your pleasure, crying out and sniffling from the feeling in your tummy that wouldn’t stop, looking like you’ll cum again. he can feel it, in fact.

“tell me you want this," he grunts, his voice rough with need. "tell me you crave my dick buried inside you. that it makes you feel so good. that you’re mine every fuckin’ time you come see me. tell me.”

“y-yes, i wan’ it,” your voice quite literally trembles, gasps coming out broken. “i wan’ you, need you. . fuckin’ me.”

“good fuckin’ girl, ꒰♡꒱. g-good fuckin’ girl. god, give me permission to cum.”

your voice gets caught in your throat when he stumbles back towards the wall, hiking you further up and pressing his palms flat to the wall, your ass recoiling and hitting the surface as he fucks you faster, and harder, keeping your knees high up. a death lock he has on you, you can barely move an inch. sinking and pulling out his girth by every filthy pound. your breath on his skin with his on yours. it was the ultimate embodiment of erotica.

“cum in me, cum in meeee!”

guttural moans and heavy panting stir between your neck, father mayhew giving you one final, heavy thrust before he’s cumming inside of you while you orgasm once more. gripping onto his hair tightly with your mouth faltering open, hiccuping and whining loudly. grounding your hips down to squeeze and milk him of everything he had for you. his release is loud, waist shuddering, and primal growls in your face with his forehead pressed to yours, bodies entwined in a sticky mess.

he keeps you stuck in this position for a while, heaving in your face and taking your lips to his again for another kiss, growing high off your shared taste.

“you ignite a fire within me unlike anything else.”

© 𝒮𝒯𝟦𝑅𝐵𝒲𝑅𝑅𝒴! all rights reserved. please do not repost, steal, or modify my work simply because it is mine. stealing isn't cute. i'll ruin your life ♡

[teeny-tiny-revenge]

So this is a random thing I know because I once spent a hyperfocus afternoon on researching it... Modern type sunscreen was invented early 20th century, when they could design compounds that specifically target UVB (some of those are still used in today's sunscreens). However, ancient people haven't been getting burned all those centuries; humans aren't dumb. The ancient Greeks have been documented to use oils. Seafaring people from Oceania and South Asia have been making sunscreens from various plants, including rice, algae and tree bark. (Don't know about Maori, but Indigenous seafarers had sunscreen for thousands of years, so Ed would absolutely know about that.)

A number of old-timey sunscreens have been shown to contain zinc oxide, which is still an ingredient in many modern sunscreens. Should work to keep his tattoos in good shape! (Although arguably some of them aren't worth the trouble. Who did the mermaid? I bet on Jack.)

Did they have sunscreen in 1717? How does Ed keep his tattoos looking so nice?

[lloydskywalkers]

barometric pressure

it's finally getting cold here and actually feels somewhat like winter so!! Zane on the brain, i rewatched s11 again and had feelings about the complete and total lack of addressing everything that went down in the Neverrealm, etc, so here's a shorter snippet of Zangst (that isn't even angst really it's just snow ramblings oops)

Exactly four months, six days, and an indeterminable amount of hours (it is ten) after they returned from the Neverrealm, the clear, crisp skies of late autumn give way to the gray, overcast start of winter.

It’s a painfully familiar sky, one Zane knows nearly as well as he knows himself. The graying clouds are as clear a signal of snow as anything, though he’s already well-prepared.

Vex’s whispers returned to his ears around the same time the first, familiar chill began seeping through the monastery walls. 

For others who are not Zane, though, snow could still mean happier things. He still recalls the expression on Kai’s face the first winter he’d spent with them, snowflakes dotting his eyelashes as Jay wildly demonstrated how to craft a lopsided snowman. So Zane hopes, however weakly, that the rest of them can welcome the snow as enthusiastically as they have in the past. 

His hopes are neatly shattered, however, when the first thing Cole does is set straight out for the woods and return with enough firewood to burn down the entire mountain.

“What are you gonna do, roast every marshmallow in Ninjago?” Jay gapes at him.

Cole rubs the back of his neck, firewood precariously balanced in one mitten-covered hand, his nose a shade darker than the rest of him from the growing cold. “Just thought we should be prepared,” he says. “In case the power goes out, or we just, you know. Wanna have a fire.”

Zane feels the room slip a little colder from his words alone. Or perhaps it’s his imagination — it’s been active, of late. For example, Vex and his whispers are several dozen realms away, and Lloyd is choking on the hot chocolate he’s drinking too fast instead of staring lifelessly at him from a frozen prison. Kai and Nya are fighting over the few coats they have that aren’t torn or stained or covered in what’s either glitter or the fragmented remains of their last enemy’s vehicle, not encased in blocks of ice, voiceless and empty.

Cole is…now distracted and giving him concerned looks, while Jay struggles to keep the firewood from spilling over his arms. 

Ah. He’s drifting, again. 

“How about we start the fire — in the fireplace, Cole, help—”

“Are you okay?” Cole asks bluntly, absently adjusting his hold on the firewood as Jay stacks the loose logs back in his arms. 

“Of course,” Zane says. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

A crucial error. He knows better. Leaving things at ‘of course’ is a risky move, but it’s certainly a better option than flat out asking Cole to pounce. 

Jay makes it first. “Yeah, ‘cause when I’m fine, I disassociate staring out the window for hours all the time.” 

“I was not disassociating.”

“Uh-huh. Hold on, lemme find a dictionary. Right next to ‘disassociate’, there’s a nice little picture of—”

“Lloyd,” Zane says. “You will find my image next to ‘emotionally removed’.”

“That is dissociating, and Lloyd’s next to ‘traumatized’. Nice try, though.”

“We’re all next to traumatized,” Cole mutters, finally giving up and dumping his stack of firewood next to the door. Zane quietly calculates how long it will take Kai to set it ablaze, along with how much it will cost to replace the door if it ends up collateral damage. 

“Not me,” Jay says, hands on his hips. “I’m next to optimism. Which you could all use, you know.”

Cole stares at him in disbelief. “Optimism? You’ve predicted our deaths like, six times in the last month alone—”

“It’s called a joke, where’s your sense of humor?”

“Jokes are only funny if you aren’t screaming them, and — oh no you don’t.”

Zane sags in defeat as Cole snags him by the back of his sweater. He was so close, too. Normally, Cole and Jay’s arguments are the perfect time to make an escape. Either they’re getting more observant, or he’s getting careless. 

“Look.” Cole lets go of his sweater, crossing his arms in front of himself. Zane can’t tell if he’s warding off the chill, or warding off the same dark thoughts that have haunted them all since the snow began sticking. “I know we’re not…there, anymore, so it’s different. But if you’re having a hard time—”

“I am not.”

“Yeah, okay, sure.” Cole huffs, his forehead still scrunched up in worry. “But if you were to hypothetically be having a hard time, I’d hope you could talk to us. Any of us. It doesn’t have to be me, just…” He looks away, staring out the window wistfully. 

“Winters have always been fun, with everyone,” he finally continues. “Remember the first time it snowed, when it was just you and me and Jay?”

Zane avoids his eyes. He does remember, of course. He remembers everything, even the things he wishes he could forget. But the memories of those early days, the first few months adjusting to living with others in the monastery, have yet to be tainted with any kind of darkness. 

Jay had been near-comically scrawny back then, hair pressed resolutely against his forehead from his countless attempts to get it to stay there. Cole had been smaller, too — a bit sharper around the edges, his walls a bit higher, but still open enough to make Zane feel like a part of their little team. He still remembers Cole’s laughter, observing Zane’s terrible first attempt at sculpting anything from the snow, Jay his long-suffering teacher. 

It had been the first time snow had meant anything fun, instead of the perpetual silent blanket that cut Zane off from the rest of the world. 

And now here he is, years later, with all of Jay and Cole’s efforts gone to waste. 

“You should come outside with us, after Cole finishes his firewood mountain,” Jay suddenly says, a bit breathless. “See how your snowman skills are shaping up.”

It takes Zane a moment. His mouth is full of refusals, his mind stuck on the fact that the last shape he made from snow was an enormous, vicious ice dragon that nearly killed everyone he loves. 

But Jay looks painfully hopeful, and a bit too nervous that Zane will say no, and Cole’s edges are so soft now, Zane fears his own sharp edges will only hurt him. 

“Give me a moment,” he says, forcing his tone to sound light. “And I will. I will join you.”

Cole’s eyes light up, and a beaming smile breaks across Jay’s face. 

“Sweet!” Jay claps him on the shoulder. “I’m gonna go drag Nya out of hiding, but the snow’s piling up in the courtyard, so if we get out early enough we can ambush Kai with snowballs when he comes out.”

Cole rolls his eyes. “I’m not digging you out of your snow grave this time,” he calls, following after Jay. 

“Spoken like someone who wants to take on Nya in one-on-one combat!”

“I’m not insane, I’m not doing that either!” 

Zane hesitates, left alone in the hallway. He crosses his own arms against the sudden chill, tiny stabs of regret already making themselves known. 

It is easy to lie, but what will happen when he actually joins them in the snow? What if the icy chill sets in, miles of white all around, and he loses himself again? 

The others weren’t there. They know his role in the Neverrealm, of course, but none of them saw the monster he let himself become. The depths of his cruelty, his coldness, what he was capable of — all of it remains Zane’s secret to keep. 

Well. 

That is a lie, and with it lies another significant reason Zane should avoid setting foot outside. His presence will only ruin things. 

Yet the quiet, aching part of him seeks out the exception anyways, because deep down, Zane is just as selfish as any other person. 

Lloyd looks little better than Zane feels, his eyes glued to the graying skies with the same look of faint dread Zane stared the drifting snowflakes with. His knees are drawn up tightly to his chest where he sits on the sofa, his mouth pinched as he picks apart the already-fraying edge of his scarf. 

His expression softens when he sees Zane, mouth curving up into a faint smile. 

“You get cornered, too?” 

At his brief look of confusion, Lloyd nods at the thick jacket Zane’s wearing. 

Zane looks away. “They seem to think it will be fun. A snow day.”

“Mmh.” Lloyd turns back to the window. With a sigh, he slides his legs out, standing as he throws the threadbare scarf around his shoulders. “Guess we should get out there, before Jay starts building his nightmare snowmen in the courtyard.”

Zane blinks at him, taken aback. “You’re joining them?”

“Duh,” Lloyd frowns. “I wanna have fun, too.”

“Ah.” Zane isn’t sure if what he feels is guilt, envy, or some odd mix of the two. Confusion, he finally decides on. “It doesn’t…you’ll be alright, in the cold?”

Lloyd’s expression falls, but he doesn’t look away. He fiddles with the edge of his scarf, as if turning words over in his head. 

“I’ll be okay,” he finally says, in the quiet, softer way he speaks now.

He used to be louder. Zane remembers, down to the exact cadence of his voice — straining a bit too low for his throat, acting a bit too old for his age. Less…reserved. 

Younger. 

Then Lloyd smiles, and Zane reminds himself that Lloyd’s voice is also lighter, these days. It’s been growing more so, ever since the last of the Oni attack was cleared away and the unhealthy pale left his skin. Lloyd’s quicker to laugh and easier to poke at. Slower to step into the role of leader, preferring to linger behind with the rest of them, as if he can soak up their warmth like a sadly starved sponge.

“I don’t mind wind,” Lloyd continues. “I like volcanoes. I think I’ll be fine in snow.”

He worries his lip, eyebrows furrowing. “The question is whether or not you will.”

Zane startles. “That is not—” He closes his mouth. The words do not come easily, or much at all. How can he make Lloyd understand, that he has no right to fear the snow? When snow is his element. When any pain caused by it is only his fault, in the first place. When Lloyd still bears the scars of frostbite, when Kai’s hands tremble in the cold, when Jay watches Cole with worried eyes and Nya frets over the water heater each night. 

Lloyd’s hand settles tentatively over his own, a bright burst of warmth that quells the tremors Zane hadn’t realized run through his fingers. 

“How about this,” he amends. “We can either stay inside and steal all Cole’s marshmallows for our hot chocolate, or you can come outside and help me fix Jay’s ugly snowman?”

Zane looks down. It’s a kind trick Lloyd’s using, one he’s learned well. Simple decisions — one a retreat, one a cautious step. 

A part of him still balks at the idea of stepping out into the cold. Vex’s voice lingers in the freezing air, the reminder of bitter ice beneath his fingers and the cries of his friends. 

Kai’s laughter shatters the silence, muffled through the monastery walls but no less clear. He can hear Nya’s quick follow-up, a round of foul cursing that would have Sensei frowning at them all. 

Zane lets out a breath. 

It is selfish. It is self-centered and short-sighted, and it is all but an insult to what he’s done to the people of the Neverrealm. 

And perhaps Zane is a terrible person, after all.

But Zane is not a coward, either. 

And Zane is fortunate enough to have a family, one who would lie and steal and cross realms and frozen wastelands for him, and he thinks, perhaps this once, he can be selfish for their sakes. 

Squeezing Lloyd’s hand briefly, he nods. “I suppose it would be cruel to the poor snowman, to leave him in Jay’s hands.”

A smile splits across Lloyd’s face, a faint echo of the boy who dyed his uniform pink. 

“Okay. Pixal’s got a scarf for you, then.”

Pixel does indeed have a scarf for him, and it is perhaps the most disastrous thing Zane’s ever laid eyes on.

“I don’t understand what happened,” she says, staring at the scarf in his hands. Her face screws up in frustration, lips set in what could be called a pout, if he didn’t know better. “I followed the instructions to the letter. My slipknots were perfect.”

Zane carefully places the scarf around his neck, wrapping the crooked, colorful mass of fabric around as many times as he’s able.

It ends up being about four, and he wonders briefly how many stores Pixal bankrupted of purple yarn. 

“I love it,” he tells her. “Thank you.”

Pixal’s face breaks into a bright smile. “It’s warm, isn’t it? I wanted to be sure, that it was warm.”

Ah. The many layers make a bit more sense now, and Zane’s heart aches. 

He does not deserve this, but the scarf still sits around his neck. Lloyd still waits for him by the door, endlessly patient and hopelessly trusting. 

Kai still beams when he sets foot outside, blinking snowflakes from his lashes as he waves, moments before Nya dumps a bucketful of snow over his head. 

Jay still lets him reshape his snowman, only scowling once at his critique before asking him which of their family they should recreate in snow. 

Cole still smiles, when Zane sweeps out that same warm smile in the snowman that only just resembles him. 

And Nya finally lets her hourly crisis over the water pipes go, handing him a snowball instead and instructing him to let Kai have it. 

He doesn’t know the answer to Lloyd’s question, exactly. Whether or not he’ll be okay, when the snow falls heavy and the reminder of what he’s done presses heavier. 

But he does know that the cold that followed him from the Neverrealm does not reach him, not even as he’s tackled into a heavy drift by Cole halfway through their snowball fight. 

And perhaps, for now, that can be enough. 

[myfictionaldreams]

Protect and Forget // Mafia!Stucky x Fem!Reader

Summary: Life as the girlfriend of the Mafia boss and his second-in-command was not always smooth sailing, everything in life did not always go to plan. Two weeks before your birthday, a threat was made to your life. What happens when Steve and Bucky begin to push you away as they search for the threat?

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, threesome, angst (LOTS!), fluff, smut, death threats, crying/anxiety, begging, alcohol consumption, confrontation, arguing (kinda), hurt/comfort, body worship, oral sex (m and f), fingering, anal, double penetration, multiple orgasms, creampie, dirty talk, size difference, praise kink, squirting

Words: 9k (oops)

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

Steve and Bucky had been counting down to your birthday for the past month, leaving small hints for whatever it was that they were planning. This included travelling to a special destination and a multitude of surprises you could never even dream of. However, life as the girlfriend of the Mafia boss and his second-in-command was not always smooth sailing, everything in life did not always go to plan.

Two weeks before your birthday, a threat was made to your life. Luckily it only came in the form of a note, filled with threats and promises that neither of the boys would allow you to read. Nothing in the world was more important to them than your safety, this had been a priority since day one so this mean that for your protection, you were secured inside of your house until the target could be eliminated.

It wasn’t so bad, to begin with as the house you shared with Steve and Bucky was grand and the garden was your pride and joy but you were even banned from a simple walk. Even though there were multiple guards, cameras and security protecting the property, it was better to be safe than sorry in their eyes.

The loneliness only began to bother you on day 8. Like clockwork, as the morning alarms began to sound, Steve and Bucky would kiss your cheeks simultaneously before rolling out of bed, changing and leaving to continue their hunt to find whoever had threatened their girl, only returning in the early hours of the morning as you were fast asleep in bed. Luckily your bodyguard was stationed outside and he would regularly come in to check on you, spending hours talking about anything and everything just to keep you from going completely insane.

On the 13th day, you’d made it your mission to try and stay awake for the boys returning, a steady excitement humming in your stomach as it struck midnight and your birthday had officially begun! Then it was 1 am rolling around… and then 2 am, and still no sign of the boys or even a message. By the time 3 am was displayed on your phone screen, your eyes were almost burning with exhaustion, leaning your head on the couch arm, you began to drift into a light sleep from where you waited in the living room.

The light sleep soon deepened, enough so that you didn’t wake as Steve carried your sleeping body to bed as the mafia leader and his best friend returned at 4 am.

All three of you groaned as the phone alarm rang at 6 30am, the repetitive kiss on your cheek soon following the silencing of the alarm. Instead of falling back to sleep, you found yourself frowning, blinking a few times to clear the blur from your sight and then rolled over to look at them both. Neither seemed to acknowledge your questioning stare as they continued to get ready to leave.

“Steve…”, your voice was timid as you began to climb out of bed, sheets tangling in your limbs as you moved through the soft material.

The mafia leader’s head turned in your direction, eyebrows raised with surprise at seeing you awake. Steve finished buttoning his crisp white shirt as he approached the edge of the bed where you waited on your knees, his large hand enclosing around yours as you reached for him. “Morning baby, lie back down and get some more sleep”, he encouraged, his voice rough from its first use of the day.

Your shoulders dropped as you took him in, not realising just how much you had missed him and Bucky, both of whom had deep purple circles around their eyes through exhaustion but you could tell that just from the way that they were standing. You’d originally intended to find out if they were staying, it was your birthday after all and even though all the promises of travelling and presents were no longer happening, seeing them actually preparing to leave was not what you had expected. Your gut twisted in despair, feeling overwhelming guilt at being so selfish for thinking this, they were going above and beyond for your protection and safety but right now, you just wanted them to rest or even just acknowledge that it was your birthday, just some form of normality.

“Are you both really going in? I feel like I’ve hardly seen either of you”, you swallowed down the hope, trying to reach further up Steve’s body to hold onto his shoulders, attempting to pull him close.

Steve smiled sadly down at you, fingers gently easing around your wrists to pull himself free of your grasp. “I know Sweetheart, I’m sorry. We’ve found a trail of his whereabouts near Manhattan that we’ve been scoping overnight. We just need to get this son of a bitch and we’ll return to happy families”. 

You knew he was trying to make you better but it only confirmed the reality that they were once again both leaving for the day, your birthday. Had they forgotten? Or was it not as much of a big deal anymore that you had a special day, a day that was only once a year? Yes, there was a threat against you but it wasn’t like they were both doing the surveillance, surely this one day one or both of them could stay.

“I don’t think we’ll be much longer”, Steve continued, easing your body back onto the bed. “Get some more sleep, maybe see if Sam wants to watch one of your movies later, and order some takeout, make sure you use my card”. Giving a chaste kiss on your forehead, he returned to his section of the wardrobe, pulling out a navy tie, wrapping it around his neck and exiting the bedroom.

Before you could allow the sadness to take over, Bucky was approaching, wearing the same outfit as Steve’s except the shirt and tie were both black. “We’ll be back before you know it Doll, get some more sleep, get enough for the both of us”, he tried to joke but the light didn’t reach his eyes as he too kissed your temple and walked out of the bedroom door.

They were actually leaving, without so much as a proper good morning kiss or a ‘how are you?’, let alone a happy birthday. Attempting to still keep the tears at bay, you were swift to climb out of bed, following them out of the bedroom and down the stairs, seeing them both already at the front door, preparing to leave.

“Can’t one of you stay today? Just for one day?” your voice was laced with desperation as you paced towards them, hands reaching to grip the back of Bucky’s shirt. The man sighed sadly, expecting this from you at some point, there was only so long you could be kept inside, not realising that you were also upset about them missing your birthday.

Bucky turned to rest his hands against the top of your arms, pulling you away slightly so he could look into your eyes. You had to quickly bite your lip to hide the quiver as more sadness rocked through you at seeing the sympathy in the crystal blue eyes looking down at you, already knowing that there wasn’t any way that either Bucky or Steve were planning on staying with you today. 

“Sorry honey, we really need to get this sorted so we can get back to normal. How about we call you later? Can have a catch-up then, how does that sound?”

A phone call. You’d been promised a holiday, surprises and most importantly, time with just Steve and Bucky without work interfering and now, all you were receiving on your birthday was a phone call.

“I miss you both”, your eyes flicked before both men as they looked down at you, hoping for something, any kind of hope that they would stay but you already knew nothing was going to happen. Steve leaned over Bucky first, kissing your cheek, waiting a moment for Bucky to do the same before twisting open the door handle.

Bucky moved you out of the way of the open door, keeping you hidden from the outside world, still trying to protect you as he also kissed your cheek quickly once more, “We miss you too, we’ll talk later. I love you”. You didn’t respond, too scared of completely breaking down and not even knowing what to really say. So to try and refrain from guilt-tripping them with your tears, you held your breath, the technique used to suppress your emotions.

Turning on the spot, Bucky followed after his boss, shutting and locking the front door behind him and then you were once again all by yourself.

The air you’d been holding rushed out of your lungs as you released a heavy sob, the tears openly flowing down your cheeks now. It was one of those cries where you were almost choking on your breaths, ribs aching from trying to keep control and not hyperventilate but it was no use.

You cried and cried. For the loneliness. The silence in the house. The lack of touch and affection that you were craving. Even forgetting your birthday, something as menial as this still had you feeling devastated. There was nothing Steve and Bucky ever forgot about you, always being their sole focus. But now, your protection had become an obsession to the point where they were almost neglecting you and even themselves, with minimal sleep, you weren’t even sure of the last conversation that you’d truly had with either of them.

You stayed on your knees at the front door for over an hour, curled up in a ball and releasing all of the pent-up emotions but now that you had started, you couldn’t stop. But as your knees started to ache against the solid oak flooring, you forced yourself to stand and get a hold of yourself.

This only meant instead of crying downstairs, you were now crying in your bedroom, the sheets pushed to the end of the bed and your body still curled into a ball. Not even bothering to catch the falling tears you allowed the front of your pyjama shirt to take the honours of being your makeshift tissue and become soaked through on your chest.

Eventually, your sobs subsided, your eyes red and sore and feeling exhausted from the lack of sleep and turmoil of emotions.

Then suddenly the front door was opened, your heart thundering in the small hopes of the boys returning but then your bodyguard, Sam Wilson’s voice shouted from the floor below. “Boss lady? Where you at?”

Was it already midday? Glancing at your phone that was next to the bed still, your eyes widen to see that hours had already passed by unnoticed by you. In a rush, you were out of bed, trying not to stumble on your weak knees from being in the squished position for so long, and quickly hiding in the en suite bathroom, locking the door for safe measure.

You didn’t want Sam to see you like this, so hiding was the best option, even as you continued to silently cry, having had your hopes spiked for a second that they’d remembered what day it was and once again being let down.

“Sweetheart? You in there?” Sam asked on the other side of the door.

Trying to steady your breathing, you responded and hoped that your voice didn’t crack or give away the fact that you had been crying all morning. “Yeah, won’t be long.”

“Good, I’ve got a special cake out here that’s dying to be eaten!” You could hear the joy in Sam’s smile as you leaned against the door, the cool wood soothing your slightly swollen face from the immense crying.

“Cake?” you asked in a small voice, nearly a whisper.

“Yeah, a cake! Wouldn’t be a proper birthday celebration without cake, am I right?”

“You remembered…”.

Sam frowned at the bathroom door, noting the sadness in your voice, instinctively he stepped closer, “Of course, I remembered sweetheart, is everything ok in there?”

Your lip wobbled as fresh tears began to coat your face, “no…”. There was no point hiding it, otherwise, you’d be stuck in the bathroom all day and you needed to be with someone, not wanting to waste any more time by yourself

Unlocking the bathroom door, you opened it slowly, peeking around it to see Sam standing there. In one hand he held a gift bag and the string to an oversized birthday balloon, and in the other hand, he held what looked to be a chocolate cake with your name written across in cursive white icing. The smile dropped on his face as he saw your distraught, quickly placing the objects in his hands onto one of the dressers, letting the balloon float to the ceiling and then he was wrapping his arms around you.

You were instantly sobbing into his chest, hands desperately grabbing his shirt scared that he might disappear and leave you like everyone else seemed to be doing.

Sam rested one hand against your back, rubbing soothing circles and the other on the back of your head, keeping you close to his chest, giving you the time to let your emotions out. “Shh it’s ok, I’ve got you, I’m not going anywhere”.

He was so comforting and calm, but then he always was. Bucky used to be this crutch for you in times like this as he was previously your bodyguard but as your relationship with him shifted, you ended up becoming close friends with Sam.

Sam had already deduced what was wrong, from his quick glance around the house downstairs and the on his way up, with the lack of decorations and that he knew Steve and Bucky had vacated the house first thing in the morning, they definitely had forgotten about your birthday.

“Take a deep breath for me, that’s it, and another one. Keep breathing for me, sweetheart. Can’t have you crying on your birthday now can I?” It took a few attempts but you were able to slowly calm your breathing down until only small hiccups remained.

Sam pulled back from the hug first, moving instead to duck his head and cup your cheeks, wiping away the tears that remained on your first.

You laughed in embarrassment, trying to hide your face but he didn’t allow it so you just held onto his wrists, feeling ashamed, especially as you saw the mess left behind on his shirt, cringing at the sight. “I’ve ruined your shirt, I’m sorry”.

“I don’t mind, makes me unique to everyone else”, he joked for a moment before becoming more series, his facial features relaxing in empathy. “Did they forget about today?”

You quickly bite your bottom lip, feeling the emotions stirring once more. “Yeah, but it’s... It’s fine! I know they’re busy trying to keep me safe but… I feel like I haven’t seen them in weeks. I hate being stuck in here! I mean, this is the first hug I’ve had since they received that stupid letter, they’ve spent so much time at the office and then tired when they get back and I’m asleep anyway so I never get to see them. I haven’t even kissed their lips in two weeks Sam!”

Once you started your ranting, it all just came flooding out. At first, you were tentative with what you were saying, that guilt still lingering in your gut but the more you thought about it, the angrier you were becoming. Yes, you were in danger but that didn’t mean they couldn’t come home and wake you up, kiss your lips or even hug you properly.

As you came to the end of your rant, you had to take a deep breath, completely filling your lungs with air and then breathing out through your mouth, feeling the tension easing throughout your body.

“Better?” Sam asked referring to your rant, you nodded your head in response. “Good, come on let's go and eat cake and have a chat”.

You were on your second slice of delicious cake, a happy smile on your face finally, chocolate always made you feel happy though. Sam chuckled at your appearance, filling your glass of water that you’d downed in a few glugs, not realising just how thirsty you were.

“I’m not going to try and make excuses for my bosses for the way they’ve been acting but speaking as their friend, they’re scared. Scared of losing you and I know you understand that but from the brief times that I’ve seen them outside or on the phone, I just think that they don’t want to spend too much time here because they don’t want to get their hopes up that everything is ok. You make them feel whole and safe so spending less time with you, it's taking away that security for them, maybe they don’t want to relax and have affection when that asshole is still out there. Now, don’t repeat this to them because I’d like to keep my job but it’s a dumb way to go about this all, clearly. I don’t think they realised just how long it would take to find whoever sent that message to you”.

Sam’s explanation made sense to you. Steve and Bucky had never hidden their intense love for you, and would constantly remind you that they would do absolutely anything to keep you safe. They were proving this now but spending every hour physically possible to find whoever was trying to find you but the small punishment to themselves that they couldn’t hug or even kiss wasn’t just a negative for them but for you as well. You needed them just as much as they needed you.

It was a pitiful circle and today had been the icing on top of the cake, ironically.

“That makes sense”, you responded after another thoughtful bite of chocolate cake, already eyeing up a third slice, you were starving after having no breakfast or lunch. “So what should I do? Leave them to it? What if they don’t find whoever is doing this for weeks? I don’t think I can go that long without seeing them properly but then I also don’t want to confront them if this is their way of coping.” You admitted with a deflated tone. Even though you wanted nothing more than to call them and tell them to come home and simply just kiss and hold you but then you didn’t want to complain when everything they were doing was for your benefit in the long run.

“Well why don’t we-”, Sam was cut off as his phone began to ring loudly from his pocket. Pulling the device out, he saw ‘BOSS’ written across the screen. “Say his name and he will appear”, he joked before stepping away to answer the phone, not stopping until he was outside with the back door closed so you couldn’t hear the phone call. You didn’t think anything of it, knowing that it was probably just an update about the day, the same phone call that was had every day.

Lifting the phone to his ear, Sam was about to talk when Steve was cutting him off, “We’ve got him”.

Sam’s shoulders dropped along with the heavy breath he released. “Are…are you sure?”

“Yeah, his handwriting matched the letter and with some persuasion from Buck, he admitted to it. Scumbags excuse was that was the golden ticket to get to me, well he was damn right about that” Steve growled into the phone and faintly in the background, the man in question was begging for his life as Bucky brutalised him, something he had been hoping to do for two weeks. “We’ve actually got that asshole, Sam!”

“Thank god”, Sam sighed in relief, rubbing his eyes, looks like everyone was going to be sleeping well tonight. 

“How is she?” Steve asked, a hint of hope in his voice.

Sam chewed on the inside of his cheek, thinking about his next words carefully. You had made it clear that you didn’t want them worrying about how sad you were but then on the other hand, he was your bodyguard, and your best interest was key. Also, they’d caught the guy so would be coming home to return to the normality they were all desperate for.

“Sam?” Steve asked with more authority, his shoulders squaring up as he glanced toward Bucky who had stopped his skilled knife movements to look back at him, wondering why Sam wasn’t answering.

“She’s not good, Boss”.

“And what do you mean by that?” Steve asked, storming out of the interrogation room and away from the asshole's ears, not wanting him to hear. Bucky followed swiftly behind, wanting to know what was wrong with his girl. “What do you mean not good?” Steve repeated, putting his phone on speaker so Bucky could hear.

Sam sighed again, tilting his head back to look at the sky before checking that the back door was still closed and you weren’t within earshot. “Listen, Boss, I understand you’ve been busy and I’m so fucking happy you’ve caught the bastard who threatened her but she’s not good. She’s been crying all day, it took nearly 10 minutes for me to calm her down as she was hyperventilating. She misses you both. She also does understand why you’ve both been reluctant to be around her and getting your hopes up for things being ok but god damn, I haven’t seen her cry like this in years.”

Steve and Bucky were overridden with guilt, not realising just how much they had been pushing you away with their desperation to find the guy responsible for this entire situation.

“That’s not the only thing…”, Sam continued with a tone of regret that he actually had to tell them this.

“Go on Sam”, Steve encouraged, it couldn’t get any worse, right?

“It’s her birthday today”. Sam had to pull his phone away from his ear as Bucky shouted ‘fuck!’ followed by the recognisable sounds of him punching the brick wall. There were hushed tones following this as Steve and Bucky furiously spoke to each other, frustrated with each other for forgetting the one day that they’d been looking forward to.

Eventually, Steve placed the phone against his ear, his voice clipped and determined, “Can you stay with her until we get back? I don’t think we’ll be here too much longer now anyway and just…”, he contemplated what to say for a moment. “Just tell her that we got the guy and we’re coming back and that we love her, please Sam?”

“Sure thing, Boss”. The phone line cut off as Steve hung up, following Bucky back into the room to finish the guy once and for all.

Sam entered your home, finding you tucking happily into your third slice of chocolate cake, fork pausing halfway to your mouth as you looked at the expression on your friend's face.

“What is it?” you asked nervously, placing the fork back onto the plate.

“They’ve got him, sweetheart”. 

It had been almost an hour since Sam had spoken those precious words to you and initially, it felt like you were going into shock, your bodyguard having to remind you to breathe again before it truly hit home. You were safe. They had actually found him and you were safe.

But now, you were sat just staring aimlessly at Sam thinking… what was going to happen now? Sam mentioned that the boys wouldn’t be back late and that they loved you and even though it gave you such peace in your heart to know this, there was still the underlying sadness. They’d still been ignoring you for weeks and forgotten your birthday, were you supposed to just carry on like this hadn’t happened?

There hadn’t really been a time in your relationship with them both where you’d actually been angry or upset by their actions so you were conflicted between wanting to celebrate and also remaining confident with your emotions of hurt.

Sam left you soon after to prepare de-escalation of the guards around your home and also give you the chance to have a long soak in the shower and prepare for their return. You’d ask him what you should do and he encouraged you to do what you felt was best which you only realised was an answer to cover his own back to not being fired, of which he laughed at, saying you were correct.

After showering and pampering yourself, the nerves returned, souring your mood once more. What did you wear? Did you dress up and greet them at the door? Did you wallow in self-pity in your bedroom?

But then the sight of Sam’s balloon and present caught your eye. It was your birthday, the one day a year when you actually wanted it to be all about you and here you were panicking.

Fuck. It.

You weren’t going to waste the remainder of the day, you didn’t need to be lost in your guilt and you for sure were going to have some damn fun before the consequences of the past few weeks came crashing down.

Finding something comfortable to wear which consisted of grey pyjama shorts and an old white t-shirt of Steve’s. Then you returned downstairs, linking your phone to the TV to play your music - loud.

One glass of wine turned into two and with the music, you were lost in the distraction, becoming increasingly more at ease and free, letting your body sway with the song. As each song played, you became more carefree, eventually dancing around the living room, the happy hum of alcohol in your veins, your throat aching with how loud you were singing the words.

Every thought of the past few weeks were diminisheds, until it felt like you were being watched from where you were currently standing on the couch, arms in the air, careful not to spill your wine in your one hand. Turning towards the door, your arms dropped down, breathing heavily as Steve and Bucky watched your happiness with smiles that could only be described as unfiltered love.

Neither of you was sure whether to approach the other, just staring for a few beats of the song before you stepped off of the couch and pausing the music, the silence deafening and unsettling enough that you were swift to down the rest of your wine for courage.

For a moment, you looked between Steve and Bucky, at their handsome faces, the overwhelming sensation to run into their arms almost taking over your body as you stepped forward but you stopped yourself abruptly. Deciding to stare at the spot on the floor and before fully thinking through your words, you began to spill everything you’d been holding in for two weeks.

“I’m… I’m so thankful to you both, for always putting me first and finding the person who was threatening me but I can’t pretend that these past two weeks haven’t been horrible and I need to tell you both now before I lose my courage. I understand why you’ve kept me hidden away but please, don’t ever shut me out like that again. We’re supposed to be in a relationship, one that is open about our emotions and supportive but I’ve hardly seen you in two weeks and you’ve not even given me the opportunity to ask how you both are because you’re both gone again at the crack of dawn and-”

You could feel your emotions rising again so taking a steadying breath, you looked up at the both again, “I do appreciate everything you have ever done for me and I love you both so much but, I can’t ever have a repeat of these last two weeks again, we’re a team please remember that before you decide to do things in my best interest when it’s going to be negative on all of us”.

Finishing everything that you wanted to say, your gut twisted with unease as neither said anything at first but Steve finally stepped forward. You straightened your spine as he approached, clutching the hem of your t-shirt to hide your trembling fists, keeping your eyes on his, not entirely sure what to expect until he standing only a couple of inches in front of you, your neck aching from having to look up at his taller stature.

Then he was dropping lower and lower until he was on his knees before you, eyes full of remorse, hands rising to cup around your wrists, gently prying your hands away from your shirt so that he could kiss the backs of them before resting his forehead on them.

“I’m so sorry my love, I don’t want to come up with excuses as to our behaviour these past two weeks but I think obsession and delirium from lack of sleep have caused us both to only want to find this guy and in the process have ignored you which was never our intentions. It’s just that… I can’t lose you-”, Steve’s voice cracked with pure emotions and it took everything within you to not collapse to your knees and hug him.

“I know, I can’t lose you either, both of you!” you emphasised, looking between the top of Steve’s head and Bucky whose emotions were written all over his face, regret, sadness and love.

“Tell us what we need to do, for you to forgive us”, Bucky finally spoke, taking a few steps forward and joining Steve on his knees in front of you, hands lifting to rest on your hips.

Here you were, with the leader of the Rogers Mafia Gang and the Second-In-Comand, both on their knees, looking as if you’d just ripped their hearts out and stamped on it, begging for your forgiveness.

“Just promise me you’ll talk to me next time, don’t ever shut me out”.

Steve finally looked up, the whites of his eyes shaded slightly red from his raw emotions, making sure to look you directly in the eye, “I promise, on everything I love, on you, Buck, the entire gang, that I will never make you feel this way ever again”. Your shoulders sagged in relief at his words, raising your hand to cup the side of his head as Bucky also promise his life that this would never happen again.

“I’ve missed you”, your voice was thick with emotions as you finally dropped lower, desperately kissing Steve and then Bucky on the lips. You consistently moved from one to the other, desperate, emotional kisses that were long, breathless and hard. Concentrating on every little feel, smell and taste of them both, a hand on each of their shirts, gripping tightly scared that they would move away. But they didn’t, they stayed and put as much passion into their touches and kisses as you did until all three of you collapsed back into the couch.

You were extremely breathless, greedily sucking in air as your head rested against Steve’s chest and feet over Bucky’s lap, all three of your lips were swollen from the bruising kisses, arms trapping your body into theirs.

The feeling of contentment was strong as the three of you just stayed like that for a while, your body feeling light enough that you could have fallen asleep but suddenly Bucky shifted slightly, sitting forward on the couch so you could see his face.

“That’s not the only apology we need to be making today, honey”, Bucky stated, lifting your daintier hand up to his lips, kissing each of your fingertips before rubbing his cheek against your palm. “We’re sorry for forgetting your birthday, there are no excuses for this, my love, we’re sorry”.

“It’s ok, I know you’ve been busy”.

“No, there aren't any excuses, you shouldn’t be so forgiving with us”, Steve mumbled against your temple, his lips soft and plump against your skin. “We need to make it up to you and even though our original plans are out of the window, we’ll start tonight and first thing in the morning tomorrow, we’re getting on that plane and getting out of here”.

You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face, feeling excited about the plans tomorrow but then you contemplated his words a bit more, sitting up slightly in his embrace so you could look him in the eye.

“What do you plan on starting tonight?”

Something flashed in Steve’s eyes, almost as if the iris had darkened, momentarily they dropped to look at your mouth before looking back into your own eyes.

“We have a very long list of ways to beg for our forgiveness and make it up to you”, Bucky then responded for Steve. Looking at the hulking man now, you could see that he too was looking between your lips and eyes, almost like he was ready to eat you whole. “And…we aren’t going to stop until you say the words ‘I forgive you’.

Words seemed to fail you for a moment as you knew what they were planning, knew from the hardening lumps in their laps, the suggestive glances with their eyes and oh the wicked words he was saying. Bucky was giving you the ultimate power, all you could want for as long as you wanted until saying those words and the thrill of being able to have sort of control had your insides clenching in arousal.

They moved almost as one as if they shared the same mind as each article of clothing was removed by your body, freeing you of the confines of the material. The two men remained fully clothed but loosened their ties and unbuttoned the top button.

Steve and Bucky then proceeded to utterly worship every inch of your skin and body. It was almost overwhelming with knowing where to aim your attention, with Bucky nibbling on your thighs or Steve licking the column up your neck. Your body heated at the touches, their hands stroking areas where their mouths had vacated, mixing between kissing, sucking and licking depending on how sensitive the area they were located. Then their teeth would graze you and cause your breath to stick in your throat in an attempt to beg and moan for more.

You wanted to touch them too, missing the way their muscles and abnormally warm skin felt under your soft fingertips, but for now, you were more than content with having their sole focus be on you. Savouring every sensation they had to offer, even down to the way their facial hair roughly scratches your delicate skin, only to be soothed by their wicked tongues.

Then Steve’s huge body is hovering over your mouth, lips only an inch away from touching yours once more but the glint in his eye, he was in the mood to tease as you tried to lean up to kiss him, only to have him move away, staying that torturous distance away. “Please kiss me”, you’re pathetically begging, already giving in to the desperation, wanting more than just his warm breath on your face that smelt vaguely of the coffee he’d downed earlier.

Steve’s full lips form into a smirk, fingers gracing over the skin of your shoulders, eyes subtly glancing towards Bucky where you can feel him kiss against your inner knee.

“I want to taste you”. Steve’s statement was said in such a smokey tone that your hips rolled just to be near that beautiful mouth of his.

Your boyfriends swapped places around your body. Bucky held up your upper half against his chest as Steve settled between your thighs already had a light soaking of your juices caused by their well-skilled foreplay. Watching Steve closely, admiring his handsome face for a moment as a slither of his blonde hair draped into his eyes, you wish you could have kissed him again, tell him how much you loved him but his next words had your thoughts consumed with something else.

“Do you want my fingers or my tongue?”

You released a heavy breath, mouth hanging open contemplating between the two before the smartest answer finally tumbled from your lips, “both”.

Steve seemed to like that answer as his face descended, along with his right arm. Not that you could see as Bucky then tilted your head back against his chest, dipping down slightly to thoroughly kiss you, tongue pushing between your lips, completely dominating you.

Bucky then absorbed every single moan and gasp into the kiss as Steve’s tongue delved through your folds, licking a strip the entire length, tasting your beautiful juices that he’d been craving for the past two weeks. As one tongue distracted you, whether it was your mouth or cunt, then the other would be stroking a certain nerve that had you twitching and praising the men surrounding you. Steve began to concentrate on your bundle of nerves, firming the tip of his tongue to move it in a slow, methodical circle before flattening his entire tongue and licking against it.

Your hands wound into his hair and with the scrunched-up position, your elbows pushed your breasts together, something Bucky noticed from the corner of his eye, his nimble fingers reaching around you to perk the nipples, tugging at the same time as Steve sucking your clit for a few seconds. You forgot just how much you loved the feeling of his metal fingers, so cold against the sensitive bud that he twisted and pulled.

Bucky pulled back from the kiss, wanting to hear the noises you were going to make and, seeing Steve’s fingers moving to tease your hole, circling the entrance a few times before pushing two of his rough long fingers within. “Ahhhh!” You groaned, back arching slightly wanting Bucky’s hands to cup your tits more whilst also, holding Steve close against your pussy.

“I will never get enough of you”, Bucky rasped, his eyes almost hungry as he continued to look down at your body wrapped in his arms.

You held his eye contact, feeling the coil tightening in your abdomen. “Don’t stop”, you choked, body tensing as Steve’s fingers steadily moved in and out, matching the strokes of his tongue.

The mafia boss chuckles, releasing your clit momentarily, “Oh baby, I’m going to fuck you until you’re too tired to even speak”.

The promise in his tone had you feeling such an intense thrill that your walls clamped down harshly around his fingers as you came hard, hips rolling against his face, Bucky also continuing to squeeze and play with your tits until the waves of pleasure subsided. The three of you remained in place, both men giving you a moment to catch your breath, enjoying the post-orgasm glow that graced your expression.

Then they were both moving, you weren’t sure where they were going at first until Bucky began to lie across the couch in the same position as Steve with your legs thrown over his shoulder and Steve was sitting behind you, holding you in an upright position. They’d swapped places and all you could do was look down at Bucky with wide eyes as he looked directly at your sopping cunt, “It’s my turn to taste, oh how I’ve missed this”.

He then swooped in to do exactly as he stated, his mouth devouring your cunt just as much as he had your mouth, his warm fingers pushing into your tight cunt, teasing the spongey spot within. Then Steve was tilting your head back with a firm grip on your jaw, biting his lower lip in anticipation before he too was taking your breath away as his mouth crashed into yours.

You could taste yourself on his lips, the scent of coffee completely gone and this revelation caused your body to heat further, finding it thrilling with how much of your juices he truly had lapped up. Steve’s big hands were then rubbing against your breasts, squishing them before teasing the nipples, each movement causing sparks of pleasure to go directly in between your legs to where Bucky was eating you out.

Your fingers were already in his hair, holding him there and helping to roll your hips against his face. You were already a little sensitive from the first orgasm, embarrassed to say that your second orgasm was already building with increasing pace, thighs trembling as you tried to not squish Bucky’s head.

It took only a few minutes and your eyes were rolling back, face dropping slightly, stopping the kiss from Steve so you could moan Bucky’s name. Your pussy clenched repeatedly around his fingers as he teased you through the entire orgasm, only stopping when your hips were jolting with overstimulation.

Bucky didn’t wait for you to catch your breath now however as he sat up on his knees, both arms wrapping around your body to pick you up, manhandling your body with ease. A second later, you found yourself kneeling on the couch on wobbly thighs, your body leaning over the back as Bucky pushed gently on your shoulders, forcing your arse to lift into the air. 

Unsure where Steve was for a second but then you didn’t care as Bucky pushed two of his fingers back into your cunt, his large body standing directly behind you. He begins to fuck you, in and out with his fingers, positioned at his pelvis so from the front it looks like he was fucking you, and oh he was getting to that part soon but he just wanted to see you cum one more time before that.

The muscles in his arm flexed beneath his black shirt as he began to fuck you quickly with his fingers, your body automatically rolling back to meet him halfway.

“Do you like fucking my fingers?” Bucky huskily asks, staring down with wide eyes, the pupils looking almost completely black with lust.

“Yes, they feel so fucking good”, you responded, holding desperately onto the back of the couch.

Bucky held onto your hips, squatting slightly to have a better view of your cunt before he began to curl his fingers, gently tugging on them with each thrust, massaging directly against your g-spot. “That’s it, hot mama, let go for me”, he encouraged, knowing exactly what he was doing with his special trick as splashes of fluid began to squirt out of you, coating his arm and the couch but neither of you cared.

Your body was convulsing, thighs struggling to hold up your weight as Bucky was now fully kneeling on the floor again, his tongue sticking out to its fullest length to try and catch any of your squirts, groaning as flecks of liquid coated him.

You were cumming through this entire moment, the sounds of the sloshing from your cunt caused my Bucky’s fingers were like music to Steve’s ears as he watched you completely explode through your orgasm.

This time, Bucky allowed you a few moments to gather your bearings, gasping for air as you tried to sit up more, your arm and head hanging off the edge of the couch as Bucky licked his fingers clean.

You were exhausted that much was true but you’d been so touch-deprived over the last few weeks that you couldn’t help but beg for more. “I want you to fuck me”, you sighed over your shoulder at Bucky.

The man smirked devilishly, taking his sweet time to undress completely, also giving you just that little extra time to gather your senses, trying to ignore the wet feeling under your knees from where you’d soaked the couch.

Then there were suddenly hands on your hips, helping to push you back up as a long thick cock was rubbing at your entrance. “Bucky…”, you sighed as finally, his cock was stretching your cunt, the sensation was so much more intense after the long wait and thorough foreplay.

“Fuck, you’re taking me so well, Doll”, Bucky praised as you took most of his cock, there still being an inch that never seemed to fit.

A hand began to stroke a gentle touch across your cheek as Steve was suddenly in front of you. As Bucky began to fuck you with long, strong strokes, Steve caressed your phase in a praising manner, letting you know he was there and even giving his thumb to suck on, the stimulation of which was causing your cunt to clench around Bucky.

Reaching out with a lazy hand, you attempted to grab Steve’s belt, wanting more than just his thumb to suck, no, in fact, you could definitely say, you needed to suck on his cock right now.

However, you groaned in annoyance as Steve pushed away your hand. “No, I’m supposed to be making you feel good”, he informed you as his large hand moved down your naked spine.

“But I want your cock so bad, please, I won’t ask for anything else ever again”, you exaggerated, knowing it was a complete lie.

Steve did too, even though he relented as he stood to his full height, “ok, Baby”. His fingers which were once inside of you, were now swiftly unbuttoning his shirt and undoing his belt and you watched in fascination as he began to undress. Fuck, his body was unbelieve, just as Bucky’s was over your shoulder. But then, all thoughts disappeared from your mind as you were suddenly eye level with the veiny, red hard cock of Steve, his voice low as he commanded, “Open your mouth for me”.

You do as instructed instantly, earning a soft stroke against your cheek in praise before he was resting his heavy tip against your tongue. His salty taste splashed around in your mouth, you swallowed harshly, wanting to taste more of him as you held your weight up with one hand, and the other gripped the base of his cock.

All the whilst, Bucky continued with his deep thrusts that also caused you to jolt forward, almost like he was doing the work for both of you as with each one, you were taking Steve deeper into your mouth. Your warm tongue was teasing the underside of his cock, taking special time to stroke against the area under the tip that had Steve gasping and holding the back of your head.

There were so many sensations going through you that you hadn’t even noticed that your eyes were closed until Steve spoke once more. “Let me see those eyes”.

Once again you did as instructed, opening your eyes to look at Steve. His eyes were flicking between what your mouth was doing and also watching the area where his friend was fucking into you.

“You look so good beneath me”, Bucky grunted, slapping his hips harder into you, his hold on your hips almost bruising but the mix of pleasure and pain was blissful. You gagged around Steve’s cock as he hit the back of your throat with the powerful thrust from Bucky, your eyes were instantly watering but Steve was quick to wipe away any tears that fell, whispering sweet praises down at you.

This was when Bucky licked his own thumb and began pressing it against your asshole, not pushing in straight away but allowing the momentum of his thrusts to slowly inch its way in. With the way you began to moan, the sensation vibrating around Steve’s cock, he knew you were loving it. Finally, his thumb slipped in and he stayed there, resting his other fingers on your lower back and almost using this as his grip to fuck you.

“You like sucking on his cock whilst I take you from behind?” Bucky asked, knowing you couldn’t verbally answer with your mouth full of Steve but the brunette smirked when he heard you groan in pleasure.

“You are doing so well”, Steve continued with his praises, the apples of his cheeks pink, mouth gaped open, releasing moans between his words. Bucky could feel you were adjusting well to his thumb, pulling it out and replacing it with the two fingers that he had been fucking you with earlier.

You felt so full in every hole, the sensation near overwhelming as you couldn’t prepare for the orgasm that consumed you. It took your breath away so much that you had to pull your face back and off of Steve’s cock to suck in air, a thin strip of drool connecting your lips with the tip of Steve’s glistening tip. “Oh baby, you’re drooling everywhere”.

Bucky had also paused his thrusts now, letting you calm down from the orgasm and the way your cunt was twitching around him, he nearly shot his load already. Attempting to sit up further on your knees, you looked up at Steve with a cock-drunk expression, eyes glazed, lips swollen and chin covered in spit.

“I want you both”.

Steve cupped your face, smiling slightly at you already forgetting about your declaration only moments ago that you wouldn’t ask for anything else. “Baby girl, we haven’t prepped you and it’s been nearly two weeks, you won’t be able to take us both”.

You make an annoyed face, “I can take it please! Please don’t say no to me!”.

Steve looks at Bucky over your shoulder, seeing what he thought about it and with the distraction, you purposefully clenched your cunt around Bucky’s cock, causing the man to curse and grip the globe of your arse in a firm grip.

“We’ll try but it if it hurts, we’re stopping”, Steve finally decided for the three of you and you couldn't be more thrilled, displaying a shit-eating grin across your face. Bucky was the first to move, snaking an arm around your waist and swapping the two of your position so that he was now sitting on the couch and you were practically sitting in his lap, your sweat-covered back against his toned abs.

Bucky was able to easily hold up your legs as the two of you watched Steve walk around the couch and stand between your legs.

Holding out two fingers under your mouth, you smiled before spitting onto his fingers. He smirked at your obedience, moving the wet fingers down to your asshole, and seeing as Bucky didn’t have a spare hand, he gripped his member, guiding it to your wet hole.

“Nice and slow”, Steve encouraged Bucky and you, watching your expression for any signs of pain as well as any tension that arrived in your body. However thankfully, you were so thoroughly aroused and had to couple of fingers from Bucky that it wasn’t painful. It did still take your breath away with how far you were being stretched but once he was past the thickened part of the tip, the rest slid in fine, even being able to take that extra inch with this position.

It was intense and you were thankful for the time they both gave you to adjust your ass was fluttering around Bucky as it tried to go back to its original size. “You’re doing so good for me”, Bucky breathes into your ear, kissing just below, showing his appreciation to you.

You nod to show that you’re good to carry on and Steve is lifting one leg next to Bucky’s hip on the couch, using it to position himself and gently ease his cock into your eagerly awaiting cunt, your juices naturally lubing his path.

The two of them began slow, mostly with Steve doing all of the thrustings, the sensation of his cock brushing against your walls and brushing against Bucky’s, even with there being a barrier, was enough to have you all moaning. But then Bucky began to tilt his hips up slightly, still holding up your legs in the process.

You’d felt full before but now, you were being stretched in all of the right places. Your hands rested around Steve’s waist, nails digging into his back as he moved at a steady pace, even though you didn’t need much prepping, you weren’t such that a hard fucking whilst being double penetrated would have been the best option right now.

Especially as with his perfectly timed strokes, you could feel every single drag of his cock along your walls and the way he rolled his hips meant that his pelvis brushed your clit. It was more than euphoric, feeling like you were constantly at the height of orgasm with everything being so stretched.

“Fuck, look at you, taking both of us like a good girl. Do our cocks feel good baby?” Steve asked in between pants, his body gleaming with sweat as he was trying to hold back his own orgasm but already knew he wasn’t going to last much longer.

“Yes! Feels so good”, you babble, lead lolling back against Bucky’s shoulder, loving the feeling of being sandwiched between their hard bodies. “Want you both to cum inside of me”.

Hearing such dirty words from your mouth had them both groaning deeply, their thrusts deepening slightly, Steve’s hand now resting gently against your throat so all you could do was look up at him.

Bucky came first, his fingers tightening around the hold on your legs as his thighs tensed beneath you, hips fucking up once more, “ah fuck!”, was all he was able to grunt as he coated your asshole in his cum.

Steve fucked you a little harder as he stopped holding back his own orgasm, his lips parting, “Gonna fill you up baby, fuck - yes!” You didn’t stop the eye contact as Steve came, his eyebrows furrowing as he too stilled, his cock hardening with each spurt of his seed, it spilling out around his cock and dripping into Bucky’s lap.

Your body felt completely useless as Bucky eased out, more cum dripping out and mixing with Steves, and gently he simply moved you onto his lap, cuddly you close, keeping you warm as you all attempted to catch your breath.

A smile crept onto your face however as one thing came to mind.

“I forgive you both”, you admitted and truthfully, you’d forgiven them the moment they had dropped to their knees in front of you but it was nice for them to give you the opportunity to decide when you’d forgiven them. They both kissed your temple, smiling against your skin.

“Happy birthday”, they both whispered, causing you to chuckle at the late hour at which they were saying it but at least they didn’t completely miss the day.

Steve reached to the floor, picked up his trousers and found his phone, checking the time, not quite realising just how late it now was.

“Let’s get you to bed, we have an early start in the morning”, he informed the two of you as he began to stand.

Glancing down at your body, you tried to move your legs but all they did was tremble as you still hadn’t the full sensation back from how hard you’d been fucked. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to walk in the morning”, you joked to them both.

Steve chuckled, bending down and placing one arm under your knees and the other supporting your back, lifting you up and into his arms. “That’s fine with me, I wasn’t planning on you walking anywhere over the next few days, I’ll just carry you on the plane”.

You smiled giddily at his words, arms circling around his neck, feeling fucked and dazed as he carried you up to the bedroom, Bucky smiling at you over Steve’s shoulder as the three of you returned to the comfort of your own bed.

[guksvault]

HOUSE OF BALLOONS | JJK

01 - The Party

warnings: party party party yea, jk is a dickhead oops, drug/alcohol use, reader just wants to leave (someone help her pls), shitty parents, min yoongi is a saint <3 nepo baby reader !

w/c: 2.9k

!minorsdni! // masterlist

✩ ₊ ˚. ⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊✧

Seven. That's exactly how many times you have passed the same shitty run down house at the end of a sketchy cul-de-sac.

The bass of the music blares, the thumping so loud you can feel it in your chest from a few streets away. The door opens and closes, people flowing in one after another, all too familiar with this place. Red lights bleed through the windows.

Dressed in a pale purple Hervé Léger, direct from the archive of their 1996 Spring Summer collection. White pumps and a small Chanel handbag to match, tucked under your shoulder.

You stand in the line down the driveway, each person before you dropping a $5 bill into a tin bucket being held by someone who looks like they could have been hired to bodyguard you at premieres. You reach to grab a note out of your handbag, offering a small awkward smile to the broad shouldered man beside the door.

“Nah, it’s a tenner for you,” he says, his eyes locked straight ahead, the smirk on his face shows he’s clearly amused.

Truth is, you only had a hundred-dollar bill to offer, struggling to recall the last time you carried anything less than that.

Your face tightens slightly. You don’t look like the others—those who stumbled in before you, or the ones who will after you.

You drop the bill into the bucket, the crisp note fluttering down to rest atop the crinkled fivers. The man guarding the door watches it fall, letting out a scoff and shaking his head ever so slightly, as if to silently remind you that you’re not quite one of them.

You step inside. The hallway is cramped, leading you into a living room bathed in the harsh glow of cheap LED lights, taped along the ceiling trim. The red tint paints everything—walls, partygoers, the air itself. Black and white balloons litter the floor. The stench of burning cigarettes and pot is so thick, you can taste it. You’re certain you’ve lost at least three years off your life just by stepping inside this shit hole.

Fifteen minutes and two shots of cheap vodka that burn your pride more than your throat is enough time to realise this was a mistake. You need to leave.

You squeeze through the packed crowd of sweaty bodies, the exit finally coming into view. You swear you can almost feel the air getting cleaner with each step.

That is, until someone grabs your wrist, yanking you back so hard it feels like your arm might just rip out of its socket

"The fuck?" you almost squeal.

"No fucking way, the fuck are you doing here?"

Min Yoongi. He rubs his eyes, double-checking as if you’re some sort of hallucination from a bad batch of laced coke.

You don’t look any less shocked than he does. You came to this ‘party’ because of Yoongi. You knew he’d be here. Wanted to see him. That was until you had the very smart, very wise realisation that you do not belong here.

"Fuck kid, what the fuck? Are you like… Lost?" He is almost laughing at you, before he stops. "Don't tell me they sent you here for me?"

It's been 2 years since you last laid eyes on Yoongi in person. 2 years since he realised what you are slowly beginning to realise for yourself about the reality of your life.

Yoongi upped and left his trust-funded, posh, shiny life two years ago. His parents didn’t approve of him pursuing music instead of taking over the family’s oil business. They told him if he even considered it, they’d cut him off. It wasn’t until his dick of a father took a baseball bat to his beloved sampler and sequencer that Yoongi realised it was time to get out.

"Actually came here on my own account" you almost gag out. "Not here to kidnap you back to your tower. Came to see you though, I guess?"

Yoongi's brows are pinched together so harshly in confusion that you think he might earn himself a permanent wrinkle.

"How the fuck did you find me here?"

Truth is, his big mouthed cousin after a bottle or two of red told you Yoongi was having a 'psychotic breakdown' and ran to the slums of Daegu after daddy said no to him for the first time.

Which was a surprise to you, because his parents had told everyone he was in the States taking care of one of their many overseas companies.

Only took you two more glasses for her to tell you exactly where he was and what he had been up to.

You shrug, "People talk. You know how it is."

You try to excuse yourself, but Yoongi isn't really in the departing mood. Can't believe you are here. Isn't going to let you go without getting you a little fucked up, wants to see you down something that he knows you would never look twice at due to the lack of zero's on the price tag.

Yoongi had you down 4 shots of vodka, you had been surprised to see a bottle of Grey Goose calling your name on the table that's filled with red solo cups and cheap alcoholic bottles. Until you downed it and realised it was in fact, not Grey Goose, just a bottle that was refilled with something that tasted like pure fucking burning ass.

Yoongi had almost pissed himself from laughing at you, the look of disgust on your face as you realised.

Two full red soda cups of vodka lemonades later, and Yoongi was leading you toward a corner of the house. Four beaten-up leather couches formed a makeshift VIP area—exclusive, but still near the chaos of the party. Three men were sprawled out on the couches, girls draped beside, behind, and even on top of them.

A small coffee table center of the couches. Covered in red solo cups, packets of cigarettes, rolled bills and tiny ziplock bags filled with coke.

You sit beside Yoongi, your cup resting against your lips as you take in the scene before you. How the fuck was Yoongi living like this? Did he do this every weekend? Every night? Did he even enjoy it?

“I want out, Yoongs.” You glance over your shoulder at him, avoiding the daggers the girls send your way, dancing mostly for the guys on the couch. You stand out like a pair of dog balls.

While you’re dressed in a pale purple, fitted designer dress with white heels to match, they’re in black mini skirts, bras as tops, and fishnet stockings that should’ve been thrown out five holes ago.

“Hm?” Yoongi almost has to force his eyes off one of the way-too-fucked girls to look at you. “Oh, shit, yeah, of course, I’ll walk you out.”

You shake your head, biting the words back like they’re stuck in your throat, harder to get out than Yoongi had to tear his eyes away from the girl shaking ass just an arm’s reach away.

“No. I mean, I’m done. With them. With the rules, the fucking fakeness—all of it. Want out. Need out.” It’s the first time you’ve said it out loud, and it feels stupid now. If Yoongi ended up here, what fucking hope do you have?

“Oh, fuck, Bee, you for real?” Yoongi barely believed you, though there was still a trace of surprise in his voice. He’d always known you to enjoy the lifestyle you both were raised in—boat parties, private jets to islands for weekend getaways, never having a limit on what you wanted.

Bee. The nickname echoed in your head, almost drowning out the DJ in the center of the living room, blasting ‘Baby By Me’ by 50 Cent, constantly yelling for people to “put their fucking hands up or get the fuck out.”

Bee. A nickname you scored when Yoongi gave you your first blunt. He’d found his father’s sneaky stash and dragged you to the river by his parents’ Lake House one summer when you were 16. It felt good—until you got so paranoid that bees were swarming you. That’s when the nickname stuck.

"They want me married, like, married-married." You felt your stomach flip and turn itself inside out at the memory of the conversation.

"Honey, this could be really good for us. For you, too. Taehyung is a lovely boy, and we all know he's been in love with you since you guys were kids." Your mother sat opposite to you in the media room, a martini in hand.

Your father had nodded in agreement, "Think about it, his family owns the most luxurious hotel chain across the globe, you would benefit from it. We all would."

They can't be fucking serious. Surely not. Marriage? Me? Taehyung? Abso-fucking-lutely not.

"Taehyung and I aren't even a thing. He's a friend. I'm not marrying someone just because it would bring motion to your businesses."

A scoff earned from your mother, an eye roll from your father.

"What would Taehyung think? Both our parents putting us in an arranged marriage?" Your eyes dart from your father to your mother.

"He's the one who suggested it. Why do you think he's been visiting so often?" Your father cocks his eyebrow, almost challenging you to question him.

You shake the thought from your head, feel dizzy, might vomit that cheap vodka that should definitely be taken off the shelves if you think about it any longer.

"Who's the newbie, Min?" A voice calls huskily. He's sat on the couch to your left, a girl under his arm fiddling with the buttons of his loose black fitted shirt, sly smirks on both their faces.

He's sports a buzzcut, two lines by his temple just a tad shorter than the rest. A blunt between his fingers and one tucked behind his ear, two dimples peeking out when he talks.

“Didn’t have to hire someone, Min. We got plenty of company around here,” Joon smirks, his voice low and lazy, too faded to bother raising it.

“Fuck off, Joon. Don’t be a cunt,” Yoongi almost warns, lighting a cigarette before exhaling, his voice cutting through the air. “This is Bee, a friend of mine.”

Joon leans back, passing the blunt to the girl beside him, who’s still sizing you up. “You ain’t from these parts, huh, Bee?”

“Nah, do most of my whoring in the city.” You shoot back, your voice dry. “Out of your budget though, sorry.

The words come out a little sharper than intended, defensive maybe—but it’s the first time anyone’s implied that you might be a prostitute.

Yoongi chuckles, as does the pouty blonde on the couch to your right.

“Joon couldn’t afford you even if you gave it up for free,” the blonde says, his eyes barely open from the amount of whatever his substance of choice is. “Can barely afford fuckin’ ramyeon,” he continues, only to have Joon peg a lighter at him.

“Fuck up, both of you. She ain’t a fuckin’ hooker. We grew up together,” Yoongi says, leaning back into the couch but not before nudging your shoulder slightly.

You spend the next hour or so sitting stiffly on the worn, cracked black leather sofa, mostly talking to Yoongi, but every now and then, you throw a few words toward Jimin—the pretty blonde you’ve learned goes by that name.

You watch Yoongi hit the bong, once, twice, thrice. Joon’s tongue is tangled with the girl glued to his side. The party roars on around you, balloons being slapped through the makeshift living room-turned-dancefloor. You finish three more cups of vodka lemonade, the alcohol providing a small buzz that helps ease some of your discomfort.

Yoongi excused himself about ten minutes ago, mentioning something about a runner waiting for him outside. Jimin, who’d taken it upon himself to keep Yoongi’s seat warm, had to clarify it was a dealer, not some jogging partner.

You’ve been meaning to take advantage of the Yoongi-free space to make your escape—head home, and really think about whether you want to leave behind the life so many people would kill for.

But of course, your luck had gone to shit ever since you stepped inside this house. Jimin won’t stop fucking talking, rambling about how you look like you belong in some high-end museum in Paris, not a rundown, seedy weekend hotspot in the slums of Daegu.

Charming, sure. A sight for sore eyes, but honestly, you’d rather he pop a Xanax and pass out than snort another line, just so you can slip out unnoticed.

Yoongi returns, dropping a black plastic bag onto the table, earning a few excited whistles and whispers. And then, just like that, he’s gone again—girl in tow, disappearing upstairs.

That’s your cue. The small group around you all focused the black bag, oblivious to the rest of the world now. You go to stand, ready to slip away before Jimin decides to continue to yap. But just as you move, the one person you’ve barely registered catches your eye.

He’s been there the whole time, opposite you, but always hidden behind the girl on his lap or his head low, in his own little world.

He’s sitting upright now, practically shoving the girl off his lap as soon as Yoongi dropped the black bag onto the table. His eyes lock onto it like it’s the juiciest fucking steak and he’s the lion, ready to devour it.

A slow, deliberate lick of his lips, then his arm—now visible with tattoos that wrap around his skin—extends toward the table. He dumps the bag, and the contents spill out like a treasure chest: dozens of tiny ziplocs filled with coke.

You can't help but fucking stare. Think your mother would have begged him to be a model for her clothing lines. Gorgeous. A shaggy mullet framing his face, which he's now tying up into a small sprout at the back of his head.

He eagerly lowers himself to the floor, grabs a rolled up bill and a card. Carves out equal lines of the coke, you don't know shit about coke other than half the people in the high society you're surrounded by daily need it to keep themselves sane.

As he focuses on the lines, it’s like watching someone in a trance—completely in control, the movement fluid and natural. He brings the rolled bill to his nostril, blocking the other side with his finger, then snorts down the line.

Then, repeats.

You can barely make out the details of his face from where you’re sitting, but the red lights catch the glint of a lip ring on his lower lip, catching your attention for a second. He rubs his face, then slides back into his seat.

This time though, his head isnt hanging low. It's pointed directly at you. Expressionless, zoned out as he stares you down.

Jungkook had noticed you long before you even stepped inside. He saw you lingering outside, pacing back and forth. At first, he thought you were some kind of undercover cop, but when he saw you talk to Yoongi after trying to slip out unnoticed, it all made sense. You were just another pampered, stuck-up rich bitch from Yoongi’s past.

He watched you, though, took note of everything. The way you eyed the cheap alcohol like it was beneath you. The way you stiffened when Joon made his comment, like you were trying to hold yourself together. Thinks if you were a hooker, maybe he’d pick up an extra shift at the restaurant. He noticed you turn down the blunts Jimin kept offering, like you were too good for that too.

You didn’t belong here. People like you never did. Jungkook doesn’t want you here, doesn’t want anyone who’s tied to the life Yoongi left behind. He fucking hates it. Hates the reminders, hates everything about it. Decides he hates you, too.

His stare doesn't falter, eyes locked on you, steady and unblinking. He wants you uncomfortable. Wants you out. Hates the way your dress is too colorful. Hates the gold jewelry, delicate and shiny around your neck and wrist-he prefers silver. Hates the way your legs have made him hard. Out. Get out.

"Want one?" He drawls lazily, that cocky grin tugging at his lips as he tilts his head toward the coke.

You glance at the last line on the table, then back at him. He holds out the rolled-up bill, smirking.

You shake your head, "All good, thanks."

"What? Too good to snort from a fiver?" He laughs, tossing the bill to Jimin without taking his eyes off you.

Jimin cuts his own stack of lines, less organised than Jungkook's were. Snorts one and stands up, fingers rubbing at the bridge of his nose.

Your eyes dart around for Yoongi, if the vibe of this shit box wasn't enough, the man sitting opposite sending you snarky remarks and eye daggers definitely was.

You know you don’t belong here. You didn’t need the overgrown, practically bald one to remind you that you look like an expensive fuck, or the band-tee-wearing asshole who’s probably three lines away from a collapsed septum to tell you the same.

As you lean back into the couch, counting the minutes until you can wish Yoongi a goodbye and a “good fucking luck,” another man stumbles into the closed-off section. He trips over your legs, collapsing down at the coffee table.

“Watch your fuckin’ step, Hobes. We can’t afford to scratch up the girl. Probably has leg insurance or some shit,” Joon snorts, puffing out a cloud of smoke.

He turns to face you, "Sorry darlin', don't sue me, I can only afford to pay in mixtapes" He chirps, giving your leg a once over.

Ah, the DJ. The one who was screaming for everyone to put their fucking hands in the air. Who now has his hands in the air feigning defence.

You roll your eyes, letting out a small laugh at his more positive nature, feeling slightly eased by his lightheartedness.

But what really bothers you now isn’t the trust fund, nepo baby jabs. It’s the pair of narrowed, dark eyes glaring at you from the couch opposite.

Unwavering. Harsh. Piercing.

✩ ₊ ˚. ⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊✧

[fanartlover1234]

A DEADLY THING

Y/n is ready to get revenge on Bridget and her boyfriend Hook is all in for it

Captain James Hook × Cruella de vil sister!reader

Based on a request from my dm

Hook x VK girlfriend where instead of just Uliana who turns into a flamingo it's also the reader who turns into a flamingo and plans to get revenge on Bridget

Y/n truly was never the one to go extreme on revenge, but now she was fuming.

It was barely past morning when Bridgets flamingo faethers, thosr stupid feathers turned her into a flamingo.

She and the rest where minding their own buisness in shadows when they noticer poor little Bridget handing out treat bribe as usual.

Uliana and Y/n couldnt help but justess with her a little.

Uliana snached the cupcakes and took off the feathers as Y/n slowly made her way there, her black heals clicking as her black mini dress hughed her curves.

"Thats Y/n De Vil, Cruellas younger sister and maybe the only one worse then Uliana" Bridget explained but quieted down when the girl steped infront of her and kicking the fallen tray of cupcakes at her, smearing Bridgets shoes.

"Oops" sound left from her lips before she steped back leaning on Ulianas shouldr and they split the feather four amd four.

"Wait thats too much" Bridget mumbled.

"Be silenent you little -" cough followed by another as all stepes back when Uliana and Y/n both began turning pink and not few seconds later both were chasing Bridget as the pink haired girl ran for her life.

Both girls ran to the side couryard before a push on they backs made them tumble into the fountain.

When they dove up Uliana kepr screaming about getting revenge while Y/n only cursed under her breath in annoyance.

She stumbles over as Hook steped forward taking his jacker off amd placing it over her shoulder.

"Im gonna kill her, im gonna make her pay for what she did" she mumbled all the way to the dorm while Hook only stayed silent too afraid fo get between her anger and her.

When they finaly reached her dorm she stood as the boy leaned on the door frame.

"Well if you need help ploting, y'know where to find me darling" he said reaching in her hair to pull out a feather.

A smirk on his lips as she annoyingly smiled when she blowed the feather from hims friends.

When she said goodbye and closed the door, she was met with Uliana.

"You know what im thinking?" She asked as she poped a candy in her mouth with a tenickle.

"Meet with the rest by the lagoon in 2 " Y/n said before walking in the bathroom when Uliana left.

In two hours the girl was making her way to lagoon and into the fish cave.

"You are late" Uliana said as she crossed her arms.

"Quit scolding and start ploting, you sound like merlin otherwise" Y/n said before walking over to Hook who swing his hooked arm over her soulder.

"How about we make her walk the plank" Hook questioned.

"Darlin' thats too easy" Y/n said brushing under her boyfriends chin with her red nails "we need something worse"

"Prick her with a thousand thorns" Malificent said.

"And what she fall asleep?" Uliana asked annoyed.

"Let burn her to a crisp" Hades obviously said while he's hair set in blue flames.

"Yeah let burn her to crisp" Morgie voted in on what hades had said but Y/n steped in annoyed.

"No, it should be worse, worse, worse than all of these" she said walking up the stairs as Uliana casted a spell so it would bring a perfect punishment for the pinky girl.

"Revenge should be vicious in whatever we do to that poor unfortunate soul should be ten times more cruel" Uliana said as she performed the spell "Calling all spirits of the Black Lagoon show me your recipe fit for her doom toxically sweet with a side of pure spite i need the perfect revenge that will bite"

The light opened as it showed a book and Y/n screamed in annoyance.

"What's this? A book, that's it? Iasked for a painful punishment"

Uliana stoped her when the plan begin to show itself "But hold up, wait, this might be evil on a plate. So I'ma serve her what she deserves, what she deserves "

"And that's justice, dressed up like the sweetest dessert. Perfect" Y/n voted in as she laughed out.

After figuring out revenge Hook and Y/n walked to the dorms.

Hook sat on the girls bed while she got ready, she pulled her black silk sleeping dress on and walked over to Hook who watched her intesly.

"If you keep eye-fucking me, i might not make it tomorrow" she said as she steped arma reach away from him.

"I dont need to eye fuck you, i do it in person rather my sweetling" he said pulling her on his lap both her leg on either side of him.

"Well perhaps after, i wish to see her poor little face when she turns" Y/n said as sne brushed her hand through his brown hair.

The boy smirked at her pulling her closer as he fell back on the bed now both laying down as the girl still sat on his lips.

"Oh i love it when you're wicked" he said.

"Is that so?" The girl asked mockingly before kissing the boy under her.

This was so fun to write and i hope i did a good job at this :)

[yumeaoka-chan]

Walls Will Crumble(say the word)

Pairing: Hobie Brown x Reader/ Demon! Hobie x Angel! Reader

Word Count: 8.4k

Tags: Cursing, blood, gore (oops), reunions, flashbacks (it's all coming together), death (it's not that bad, I promise), fighting, scared reader, angry reader (furious even), Billie & Ramona, angry hobie, crying, norman osborn (cuz that mf needs his own tag, ew), degradation (screw osborn, real talk), panic attack?? (kinda, but not really), title based off of Don't Think Twice by Hikaru Utada, no physical description of reader (besides clothing), reader is AFAB, sparse use of y/n (just once, promise)

Summary: A century in the dark. A century of loss. A century of longing and aching… It's high time you get the revenge you so deserve, no? A/N: Credits for the lovely banners go to @the-shroom-garden !!! Another late entry for Octobie @the-kr8tor , oops! Billie, Ramona, and third child belong to Katy! Last part of the au that has been keeping me up for several days now🫠💕💕

Part 4 >>> Part 5

The sound of knocking at your front door startles you slightly, the soapy dish in your hand falling into the sink. Rinsing your hands off and wiping them on a dry dish towel, you walk into the living room of your apartment slowly. You weren't expecting any visitors, especially since your friends have been out of town. “A business trip”, is what they had said when you questioned why all three of them had to leave together, sheepish smiles on their faces. You'd brushed it off and believed them because they actually did work together at a small local clothing shop. Maybe their boss wanted to treat them for their hard work, you weren't sure. Besides, the guilty look in their eyes for having to leave you for three whole months made you weak and quick to reassure them. Even if three months was an absurd amount of time for a business trip.

Peering out of the peephole, you squint your eyes at the sight of a tall man biting on the long nail of his thumb, foot tapping on the doormat. He looked a little nervous and a bit… familiar. You unlock and open your door just enough to peek your head out, the man's head whipping around immediately to meet your eyes. Piercing golden orbs gaze back at you, warm and glittering and oh so familiar. Your mouth drops open as you hurriedly open the door wider, gazing up at the man before you and raising a hand up to gently rest it on his arm. You never thought you'd see him again. After that night you met, you'd gone to see him again a few days later like you promised you would. Only for disappointment and slight concern to fill your chest at the sight of his corn maze burned to the ground, the soil black with the ashes of the burnt plants. There were no remnants of a scarecrow to be seen, just a few burnt straws of hay laying in the very middle. And though the logical side of you tried to remind you that he was a demon and he'd be fine, you still found yourself worrying.

“Hobie…? Y-You didn’t burn to a crisp…?” You whisper softly as you peer up at his face, noting all the little changes. His face looked shaper and a bit fuller, like he'd finally been eating well. He was taller too, the top of your head barely reaching past the middle of his chest. Long locs spilled over his shoulders and down his back instead of the freeform wicks, shimmering crystals weaved into his hair and hanging from the ends. Hobie sports a leather jacket adorned with several pins and spikes, as well as black combat boots with jingling chains dangling off the belt loops of his plaid jeans. He looks good, beyond good. Amazing. You can feel your cheeks warm up a bit as he chuckles lowly, your heart fluttering at the deep voice you'd longed to hear these past few months. He's tender in the way he grips your wrist and guides your hand to rest on his chest, letting you feel the way his own heart flutters beneath your palm.

“I was a good boy, lovie. No eatin’ any angels, remember?” Hobie murmurs as he leans down just a bit while looking down at you through his long lashes, eyes shining with a fondness to them. You roll your eyes as a smile flits across your face.

“How could I forget? You're a demon with morals”, you chuckle as you step back and nod your head, eyes roaming over his appearance once again. “Modern clothes look good on you.” Hobie grins at your words and moves back to do a little twirl, flipping his locs over his shoulder as he bats his eyelashes at you. It makes a loud guffaw leave you as you shake your head. People walking pass give you both weird looks of judgment and you roll your eyes while taking his hand, leading him inside of your apartment. Once inside, he takes both of your hands in his and pulls you close to him, making you raise an eyebrow in question.

“I know it's been a while, angel. I had some things to take care of back home. But thanks to that, I've finally got all my powers back.” Hobie says with a smile before furrowing his eyebrows, gently squeezing your hands as a flicker of something you can't quite name goes across his face. He lowers his eyes to the floor before bringing a hand up to gently caress your cheek. Nuzzling your face in his palm is practically second nature, something in you knowing that this was right. That this was how it should always be. Hobie's molten gaze hypnotized you, his golden eyes swimming with a hint of sadness, a hint of hesitation. Your fingers move to grip the hem of his leather jacket.

“What is it, Hobie…?” You mumble as you feel one of his thumbs grazing your bottom lip. He shakes his head and closes his eyes, taking a deep breath as several heartbeats pass between you. Warm lips are pressed against your forehead then, lip piercing cool against your flesh as you melt under his affection. Only, it feels as if your body is suddenly thrown, pushed down into the ground and sinking deep beyond the flooring of your home. You're drowning, the tide is pulling you down into the depths of the abyss. A bubble leaves your lips as you gasp and…

“I'm tellin’ you, love. Somethin’ is wrong with that slimy bastard.”

“Trust me, Hobes. I know…” You sigh in exasperation as you lay down on his lap, the scent of flowers all around you as you both sit in the field of daisies. One of Hobie's hands is buried in your hair, sharp nails gently scratching at your scalp in a soothing way. You can feel your body relaxing as you wrap your large wings around you like a blanket. The sounds of the babbling brook a few feet from your resting area lull you into a sense of calm, much better than how stressed you had been when you came to meet up with Hobie. The demon prince grumbles softly as he brushes a flower petal off of your cheek, frustration battling with the peacefulness of the serene surroundings.

“He's up to somethin’, I just know it. Cause there's no way he's just allowin’ the shit my dad's doing to just happen with no fuss. Startin’ natural disasters, causing war, famine, and disease? Don't even get me started on the monthly demon scares the humans keep talking about…” Hobie sighs and scrubs a hand down his face, anger and suspicion coloring his words as he places his fingers under your chin and tilts your head to look up at him.

“And then there's Osborn’s obsession with you… That I really don't like”, he rumbles lowly, his grumpy expression reminding you too much of a cat. Biting back the giggle that threatens to escape you, you lift a hand up to poke at his cheek.

“It'll pass. Here's hoping he forgets me entirely for someone new. But, you're right. Why is he just overlooking this stuff? The balance is all out of whack. I might have to speak with him about it later”, you mumble, eyes fluttering shut as he leans down to brush his lips against yours. The scene melts away.

You're now thumbing through paperwork, brows furrowed as you try to tally the number of souls that should have been admitted into Heaven. Should have, but are nowhere to be found. Files missing and the count not adding up, you angrily huff and slam the papers down onto the desk. The feathers of your wings ruffle and puff up as you move to search through Osborn’s papers instead, hoping that maybe he has what you're looking for. Thank the stars he's out attending to whatever business he claims he has to see to. If he ever saw you combing through his desk, you're sure his lecture and punishment would have been long.

After minutes of searching, you still don't find the papers you're looking for, a groan leaving your lips as your wings droop a bit. You let out a sigh and pick up one of the files that litter the desk, mindlessly flipping through the pages. It'd do no good to keep searching when you were too tired to do so, a break much needed at the moment. As your eyes flit across the paper, you can't help but notice that it's mentioning the names of the souls that you've been looking for. It makes you sit up straighter, eyes widening as you focus on the context of the scrawny handwriting. A contract. It was a contract. And as you read the full details of what it entails and the signatures written on the very bottom, you can feel your heart thudding in your ears, breath stilling and hands trembling.

Because why in the Almighty’s name did the High Priest think to make a contract with the King Of Demons…?

“ ‘In exchange for the services of aiding in the recruitment of new devotees, I, Norman Osborn, High Priest Of the Archangels and soon to be God of Order, agree to the releasing of the more innocent of souls. A select choice of the finest souls being of infants, virgins, and the highest order of faithfuls shall be bestowed upon the reigning King of Demons monthly, upon completion of aiding the new order. Should either party fail to uphold their end of the agreement, the offender must release unto the other their most treasured possession...’ ”

The whispered words make you sick as you utter them, paper falling from your hands as the information sinks in. It all clicks then. The large amount of disruptions and demon activity on earth, the huge amount of missing souls, the lack of reactivity from the High Priest. Osborn was giving the King free reign to cause havoc, in hopes that humans will see the demons and turn towards faith to pull them through. Faith in a new God who wasn't the Almighty, a God who'd “restore” the peace and order. And all it costs him is the souls of truly innocent people, people and children who earned their eternal rest now damned to an eternal prison. Hobie had been right to be suspicious, right to keep questioning everything. Because now, everything was going to shit.

The sounds of faint footsteps make you jolt, alarms going off in your head as you quickly put the files back in order. You had to tell someone, but who would believe you? Surely not your fellow angels, some who already look at you with jealousy. They could use this knowledge against you, make Osborn punish you for being “disloyal” and falling for “a devil's lies”. No, you had to leave, had to take this with you. Stuffing the papers into your chiton, you quickly open a portal to your hideaway and dart in. Heart pounding furiously, you can feel yourself breaking down when you see Hobie already sitting in the circle of flowers, lying back with his hands behind his head. It's like he can feel your presence when you arrive, body already turning in your direction. He smiles warmly at you and you feel the dam break, hot tears dripping down your face.

Hobie's next to you in an instant, smile gone and eyebrows knitted with concern as he cups your face in his hands, thumbs wiping away the tears that continue to fall.

“It's awful, it's awful, Hobie. It's terrible”, you sob as your hands cling to the fabric of his shirt, chest heaving as you gasp with your words. Lips press against your cheek and his deep voice calmly shushes you as he wipes the tears still.

“Breathe, angel. Breathe. I'm right here. Just tell me what's wrong. What's terrible?” He mumbles against your cheek before pressing another kiss to your forehead and another to your other cheek. Before golden eyes gaze calmly into yours. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, you calm the frantic beating of your heart.

“You were right. Your suspicion and everything about how messed up everything is was right… And I'm the one who took the only proof of it away…” You breathe out, hands shaky as you reach to hand him the files. Hobie takes the papers from you with a worried look before silently reading what you handed him. His expression darkens as he reads the full contract, fire licking behind his eyes. Clenching the paper in his grip, he looks around before looking back down at you.

“Who else knows of this, love?”

“N-Nobody. I found it in Osborn’s office when I was searching for papers. This is bad, Hobie. He's planning something that's gonna wreck the natural order of things. Becoming a God… It's madness…” Hobie scratches the back of his head before scrubbing a hand over his face. He looks at you with wide eyes then, a flicker of trepidation in his eyes.

“Listen, sweetheart. We gotta leave here. From the Heavens, earth, the Hells, all of it. Nowhere is safe right now. Osborn is gonna figure out that you're the one who took it–”

“–Because I'm the only person with access to his things…” You mutter quietly, fresh tears welling up in your eyes and you feel your heart sink into your stomach. Because even if you were now one of the strongest angels besides Osborn, there was no way you could fight all of your peers and make it out alive by yourself. Hobie pulls you close at the look of utter despair on your face, arms wrapping around you tightly and burying his face into your shoulder. He rubs at your back as you silently sob, cooing and reassuring you that it would all be okay.

“He's not gonna find us, lovie. I've got a place in mind, somewhere no one knows about, okay? Do you trust me, angel…?”

“I trust you… I love you…”

“And I love you. Let's get goin’, yeah?” The scene melts away.

Laughter fills the air as you smother your daughters in kisses, raining little pecks on their cheeks as they squeal and try to break free. Hobie watches you three with a dopey grin on his face before cooing at his son, watching little Aiden flap his wings and glide over to him. You and Hobie had found a little sanctuary in a realm just beyond Earth, between Heaven and the Hells. Invisible to most everyone besides those who knew just where to search. It was there that you two decided to make it official, your union evident by the rings adorning your fingers. The rings were special, able to turn into a matching pair of tear shaped necklaces, one with a ruby and the other with a sapphire. It was with your union that you were able to bring your pride and joy into this world. Twin girls, named Billie and Ramona, and a little boy named Aiden. When you first held them, you couldn't imagine a life without them. They were perfect and they were yours, you and Hobie's. You vowed to protect them till your very last breath if it ever came to the day that your peace was shattered.

A trumpet blaring rings in the air, making all of you look up towards the source. And that's when you see it, a large swarm of angels breaking through the barrier of the realm, pieces of its shattered remains falling down from up high as they dive down towards your direction. Fear pierces your heart as your girls grip onto you tighter, anxiety shining in their eyes. You turn to Hobie, who holds Aiden close to his chest, before you both run as far as you can with your children in tow. Eyes glowing a bright white, you conjure up a wall of flowering vines that reach miles high and separates you from the approaching angels.

“Run! Get the children and get out of here!” Hobie yells at you as he hands the frightened toddler in his arms over to you, frantic and in disarray. His hands push at your shoulders, forcing you to turn away. This was it. Osborn had finally found you and now your family was in danger. Shaking your head, you plant your feet firmly on the ground, tears stinging your eyes as they start to spill down your cheeks.

“Not without you!” You sob desperately, trying hard to turn around and face him. Only for his hands to be firm in making you flee. You can smell the scent of smoke in the air, chest heaving as you feel your wall of vines now starting to burn. The fire is spreading too quickly, starting to creep towards the hanging vines adorning your cottage. His hands shake as he pushes you to move, to walk. There's fear in his voice, dripping worry that trickles down into you as his hands on your shoulders slowly dissolve into wriggling spiders.

“I'll find you! Just leave, quickly!” Hobie growls before the spiders on your shoulders scurry away, the sounds of him transforming ringing in your ears as you hold your son closer to you. Heat surrounds you now as you lead your children towards the escape route that you and Hobie had made if something like this were to ever happen. Only, to stop and hold your children close to you as the wood of your cottage splinters and crashes down in front of you, burning planks blocking your way. Fire licks at your cheeks as Billie and Ramona cower by your sides, Aiden wailing his heart out. This was too much for them to be experiencing right now. Heart thundering in your ears, you lead them around the cottage, hoping to get to the brook on the other side. At least, then you'd have a chance of getting out of here. Your hopes are dashed as a horde of angels fly down to surround you all, holy swords and staffs in hand as they close in on you. You know you can't escape them like this with your children in tow, can't fight them off with your arms focused on holding them close.

A hand harshly yanks at your hair, pulling you away at the same time that you feel multiple hands forcing your arms off of your children.

“No! No, no! Let me go!” You scream and kick, trying to get back to them, wings flapping harshly. A cry of pain leaves your lips as you feel a hand ripping and tearing at your feathers, blood dripping into the grass below from your damaged wing. You can hear Billie and little Aiden crying, Mona screaming as you're forced onto your knees. Glowing restraints are placed on you, around your wrists and wings, strings of light wrapped tight around your wriggling form.

“Leave my mummy alone!” Mona screams as energy crackles around her, tears falling down her cheeks and little fists shaking with fear. The angels reach out to hold her back, only to hiss with pain as they touch her arm. Your heart breaks at the sight, her power growing wild and out of control with how terrified she is. You shake your head as she reaches out to you, energy crackling around her fingertips.

“Mona, no. Don't–”

“You produced these abominations, little dove…?” The voice makes your body seize up almost instantly, heart thudding so hard that it aches. A cold sweat breaks on your skin and your breath hitches as the hand in your hair gives a harsh yank, forcing you to look up at the man before you. Icy blue eyes bore into your own, a frown painted on his lips. Osborn places a hand under your chin and forces you to look at your children as he flicks his wrist, a large bubble of light shining into existence around them, trapping them. He clicks his tongue and shakes his head, wagging his finger at them when Aiden and Billie scream, the powerful sound making their prison vibrate harshly.

“Surely, that devil poisoned your ear and forced himself upon you. You didn't allow him into your bed. Right, my dove…?” Osborn says as he looks you over, but by the way his smile doesn't reach his eyes, you can tell he already knows the truth. With trembling lips and your instincts to protect your young rising, you sneer up at the High Priest with hate flickering in your eyes like an ember.

“You don't care about that. You just care about what I know!” Norman raises an eyebrow and sweeps a hand to gesture at the trembling twins holding their baby brother close.

“Why would I not care? My little dove, now with filth for offspring? And a demon prince who's been frothing at the mouth, trying to make us leave you alone? I am nothing but concerned, little dove.” As he leans in, you take the opportunity to spit in his face, a smirk on your lips as the saliva drips down his cheek.

“Don't you ever call my children outside of their names”, you hiss, the words sounding like a curse between your teeth. Osborn sighs and wipes your spit away with his thumb before more feathers are viciously plucked from your wings. You cry out as warmth dribbles down your back, blood splattering onto the flowers beneath you.

“So, he has poisoned you. A shame. You have such a bright light inside you, the brightest I've ever seen. It's now contaminated, I see.” Smoke forms thick clouds that drift in the air and you can hear Hobie shouting in the distance. Your children crying for you fill your ears as you look up, heart shattering as you watch the cottage you built with love crumble to the ground, flowers crushing and burning under the lit wood. Several more angels come toward you then, a tall cube made of pure light floating behind them. Hobie's snarling and banging on the walls of his prison, skin burning from the holy magic used to keep him at bay. He's snapping his teeth and roaring as his body constantly shifts, little spiders shaping into a swarming mass before wriggling into the form of massive creatures, then going back to him banging against the walls.

The enraged demon's eyes shift to his three little ones being held at bay before drifting over to you. You can see the way his golden eyes morph into seething crimson slits as Osborn raises his staff at you, voice booming loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Little dove, thou bearest a great sin indeed. For permitting a devil into thy bed and giving life to foulblood nephalems, thy light has died. In the Almighty’s name, no longer shall thee be permitted to adorn his heavenly skies.” Your lips tremble and you scream as more feathers are plucked from you, pain making your head spin. Hobie bangs even harder, shouts even louder.

“That's bullshit! You don't speak for the Almighty, fuckin’ snake! Get away from them! Don't touch my family!” The demon roars, all boiling rage and dripping despair. “Osborn! I'll rip you apart!” You can hear as he struggles, trying hard to get to you even as his skin sizzles and the children cry in the distance. A piercing scream rings through the air and now you're falling from up high, tears dripping from your eyes as you gasp. It feels like hundreds of hands are dragging you down, your deadly descent to the ground impending. You reach your hand towards the sky and…

Your chest heaves as you feel yourself finally being snapped back into your body, gasps leaving you as you stumble backward. Gentle hands hold your waist as you clench your eyes shut, the memories flooding you like a tidal wave. With shaky hands, you grip onto Hobie's arms tightly for support as you try to calm down the thundering of your heart. Tears, hot and thick, cascade down your cheeks as you feel your wings, your wings, emerge from your back, one of the appendages almost completely featherless. You reach up to touch your ruby necklace with shaky fingers, your other hand patting Hobie's chest to find his sapphire one sparkling beneath his shirt. And as you look up with teary eyes to gaze into his watering golden ones, you don't speak for several moments. Because finally, finally, you remember everything. Every foggy detail shines under a new light, every missing piece now clicked into place.

“Hobie… My Hobie”, you breathe out softly as you lift a hand to tenderly cup his cheek, heart aching as he nuzzles his face into your palm. His lips tremble as he smiles and nods his head, one of his hands resting on the back of your neck.

“That's right, angel. Your Hobie… Just yours”, he whispers, voice wavering with unshed tears that finally fall as he pulls you in for a breathtaking kiss. Both of his hands move to hold your face as he tilts your head back, kisses leaving you breathless and dazed. All of his frustration, all of his longing, all of his yearning. You can feel it all pouring into you, making you press yourself closer as you kiss each other senseless. It's like time stops, the world stilling just for the two of you. Nothing else matters, not when the love of your life, your fate, holds you like you're the most precious thing in the world to him. When you finally break away for air, your hands roam his face and hair, eyes looking him over as if you truly couldn't believe he was with you once again.

“H-How did you find me? Where have you been? Oh my days, where are the kids? Billie and Ramona? Little Aiden…?” Hobie shushes your bombard of questions with another kiss, chuckling at the way you practically melt because of it. Pulling you over to the couch, you both sit down as he shares what happened to him during the century following your fall. Hobie tells you of how he'd been taken to his father by the angels and punished to haunt the earth for the rest of his days, consuming souls his only way of nourishment. He tells you how his friends, Ned, Riri, and Serenity had followed him to earth in order to help get him back home. Of how he had them show Osborn’s contract to a group of angels who regretted tearing your family apart and how his friends went to find you, promising to watch over you as Hobie regained his strength. Hobie reveals how he had to conserve the brightest of souls that entered his maze in order to break the curse placed over him and the maze, how seeing you again for the first time in years had let him know he was finally ready to make his move.

“For the past three months, I've been gatherin’ forces to help take down my father and Osborn. Demons and angels alike, if you can believe it. Becomin’ King gave me the power to give you back your memories and the ability to shape his realm however I like. I've turned it into one we can all live happily in. Like before…” Your eyes soften at his words, the thought of Hobie doing everything he could to reunite your family making your heart swell. His hands caress your cheeks as he looks down at you with pure adoration and burning affection, devotion to you and only you screaming from the way his touches are as soft as silk. Golden gaze, a liquid pool of warmth that you're all too happy to dive in.

“Chaos, Mayhem, and the little terror are at home waitin’ for you, lovie. Why don't we go see ‘em, hm?” Hobie hums against your lips as he leans down to peck your lips once, twice, three times before leaning back just a bit. And everything in you screams to do what he's saying, wanting nothing more than to hold your little ones close and never let go. And yet…

“Not yet”, you mumble quietly, brows furrowing and a small frown on your lips. A grim look washes over your features, Hobie's thumbs grazing your brow to try and smooth the look off of your face. You shake your head and peer up at him sadly.

“Not until we're safe. We'll never be safe while Osborn still lives and I couldn't bear to face them until it's all over. He called them filth…” You say, seething as the memory ignites a fire within you. A need to see the man who dared speak ill of your children and love rot like a festering corpse. Hobie's deep voice rumbles in his chest as he peers at you with slight concern.

“Are you sure, angel? You don't have to fight if you don't want to.”

“I want to. I need to see him bleed. He's done too much harm to not only us, but the balance of the realms in general. We're making that bitch grovel.” You say with a huff, a determined gleam in your eyes. Hobie chuckles and nods his head, pressing his lips against your forehead softly.

“That's my girl.”

The next two weeks are spent at an abandoned building in the countryside planning for the coup d'état, rebel Archangels and demons working side by side to end Osborn’s schemes. Serenity, Ned, and Riri were there when you arrived holding hands with Hobie, all three of them rushing to pull you both in a hug. They rained apologies on you for leaving you alone for so long, which you just dismissed. It was for a good reason, after all. They all help you train your powers again, rusty after having gone so long without them.

“Strange how I still have divine powers”, you mumbled as you dodged a blow to the face from Riri, who growled angrily. For someone who was rusty, you were still pretty good at being slippery. Even if you absolutely loathe him, Norman's teachings truly didn't fail you. Hobie shrugs from his perch on the windowsill, munching on a bright blue fruit that weirdly enough smelled just like coconuts and cream. A fruit from the Hells, no doubt.

“Well, that fallin’ from grace bullshit wasn't at all justifiable, ‘specially comin’ from that wanker”, he huffs before letting out a low impressed whistle as he watches you conjure two whips made of pure light, snaking the weapons around Riri’s legs and yanking them to make her fall on her back. The cambion groans as her head falls back into the dirt, dust settling in her curls. You give her a teasing smile and blow a kiss to her when she flips you off, getting back up with a scowl on her lips. You spend the last few days training and taking walks with Hobie, thoughts drifting to your kids that were waiting for you at your new home. It made you strengthen your resolve, knowing that you had people you needed to protect. You had finally gotten your family back and nothing was going to come between you all ever again.

The day for the rebellion finally rolls around, your heart hammering in your chest as you finish wrapping the sash around your enchanted robes. All black and white ombre with long sleeves that end up wrapping around your fingers, intricate gold vines etched into the fabric. Long black boots on your feet and the ruby necklace shining brightly around your neck, you sigh as you gaze at your reflection in the mirror. Your damaged wings mock you as they flutter uselessly, anger and trepidation swirling in your eyes as you bite your lip. Today was the day. Osborn was going to pay for everything he'd done to you, to Hobie, to your children. To all those unfortunate humans that were unknowingly a part of his dastardly schemes. You were ready to end it all. But why did you still feel so… scared…?

“Almost ready, love?” Hobie's warning voice rouses you out of your musings, giving him a small smile as you turn around to face him. Perhaps it doesn't reach your eyes, because his smile falls as he nears you, golden orbs glinting with sympathy.

“What is it, angel?” He asks softly as he takes your hands in his, bringing them up to his lips and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. Breath hitching, you shake your head and sigh.

“I don't know why I'm scared, but I am. Osborn, he's… powerful. What if we fail? What if you get hurt?” Hobie tilts his head and chuckles, taking your hand and placing it on his chest, letting you feel the beating of his heart beneath your palm.

“Feel that? ‘S beatin’ like crazy ‘cause I'm worried too. I'm scared too. I don't wanna lose you again, after finally havin’ you in my arms after all this time.” He wraps his arms around you this time and pulls you close, so that your ear is pressed against his chest. You can hear his racing heart, feel the way his body shakes ever so slightly. Though he did a good job of masking it, he truly was terrified. Terrified of having his reunited family ripped from his fingers like a cruel joke, as though he hadn't suffered enough.

“We gotta believe we're stronger than him, lovie. ‘M gonna fight for you and the kids till my last breath. I promise you, he won't touch you while ‘m ‘ere. Never again.” Hobie whispers into your ear as his fingers tenderly graze the base of your damaged wings, making you choke back a sob. You'd fight for him. For your children, for everything. Until your last breath, no matter what. The two of you share more hushed promises and whispers of reassurance before Ned announces that it's time, the two of you walking back to where everyone else waits. Hobie squeezes your hands and moves to stand on the broken crates in front of your battalion of rebels. Everyone quiets down at the sight of him, standing up straighter and looking up at him expectantly.

“For too long, we have stood by and allowed him to do as he pleases. Too long have we had to endure as he uses us for his benefit. Too long have we watched as he shattered hopes and dreams and destroyed the very realms we work hard to keep from crumbling.” Hobie's words echo in the abandoned barn and seep into your very soul. There's a fire in those gold eyes, an inferno that begs to be unleashed.

“No more. No more will we sit idly while he rips our lives apart. No more will we agree with his outlandish rules that he claims brings peace. Norman Osborn is trying to become what he is not and never will be. A God. A God that is so twisted that he would damn innocents. So cruel that he would allow the killings of children and pregnant mothers.” Raising a fist into the air, his voice booms throughout the building, rallying the unit as they cheer and holler.

“Today, we free our realms from the oppressor! Today, we fight for the right to love, the right to live! Today, we end the snake that dares to claim he speaks for the Almighty! Today, we kill Norman Osborn!” The room erupts into cheers and yells, weapons and claws alike lifted high into the air as portals spin to life on either side of him. Your heart sings, your will strong and spirit invigorated with overwhelming morale. And as the rebels charge through the portals, Hobie takes your hand in his firmly. Sharing one last look, you both run into the portals, giving a roaring cry as you head for battle.

There's chaos all around you as you emerge, blood and bodies already littering the cloudy grounds of his throne room. The clanging of metal and the battle cries of the warriors. Rebels fighting against the ones that serve Osborn faithfully, both angel and demon alike. A scream rings in your ear as an angel charges at you, sword raised high and aimed for your chest. A blur whizzes pass you, Hobie quick to dispatch him with a thrust of his sharp nails to his chest. The angel chokes as blood spills from his lips, crimson ichor spilling onto the fluffy clouds as Hobie throws his body to the side. Something shines in the corner of your eye and you turn to see an arrow made of light aimed for Hobie's back. Brows furrowing and a snarl forming on your lips, you zip to stand in front of the arrow, divine energy crackling at your fingertips. A shield of pure light shimmers into existence in your hands, reflecting the projectile with ease. Clenching the shield in your fist, you pull your arm back and throw, the chucked weapon hitting the angel in the head hard enough to visibly dent her head in. She crumples to the ground as more charge at you, trampling over her body.

Hobie snarls as more enemies charge him from the front, body losing its shape to morph into a swarm of spiders. The spiders wriggle and scurry to morph into a frothing wolf, arachnids writhing to form eyes and a dripping maw that mauls anyone who dares get close to you. In turn, you're covering him from behind, chucking daggers and firing arrows into the hearts of those who dare to harm your demon. One has a blade too close to your neck and swiftly has teeth twisting its head off, Hobie's panther form flickering in and out of view as it lunges for another victim. The sight of a sword aiming for the demon's middle has you shooting out a hand to form a glittering sphere around the offender, fist closing tightly causing the sphere to close in on him until he's nothing but blood and gristle. There's a shout from above and you hurriedly look up as three angels rain divine beams of energy down on you two. With a swipe of your hand, a bubble appears over your heads, absorbing the energy from the blasts. The three look nervous as they see the smirk playing on your lips before you flick your wrist, a devastating beam of light incinerating the offenders. A whirlwind of spiders circle around you as more enemies try to flank you from all sides, the arachnids crawling into every orifice of the angels that they find, eating them from the inside out.

The swarm dissipates, Hobie gripping your arm and pointing to the throne. There stands Osborn, holy staff fighting off and impaling anyone who gets too close. Cold blue eyes almost white with a fury you've never seen as he grips a rebel by the face, skin melting off the bone from his touch as he pours out divine energy to maim and kill. The rebel screams as their flesh bubbles and festers, arm wildly swinging a blade to no avail. And through it all, Osborn’s holy robes remain pristine and white, untouched and unsullied.

His chilling gaze sweeps over to you then, a flicker of a smile ghosting his thin lips as he lifts his staff to point at you, hand flinging away the now still rebel. You grit your teeth as you blast an angel that gets too close to Hobie, eyes never leaving Norman as he outstretches his hand to you. A seemingly kind gesture, if these were different circumstances. But you can tell, can see nothing but the condescending mockery in his icy gaze. Your hands tremble with a mix of fear and trepidation and a glance at Hobie tells you that he's feeling it too. Fear now dissolving into fury and whips of pure light shimmering into your hands, you charge at Osborn, damaged wings flapping hard behind you. The black vortex of raging arachnids follow close behind you, the furious sound of spiders scurrying enough to raise the hair on the back of anyone's necks.

“Osborn!” Hobie roars as the spiders morph and twist into his form, eight sharp spider legs protruding from his back and mouth now adorning a pair of dripping spider fangs. His golden eyes are crimson slits of rage as he extends his claws, close by your side as you both dart towards the smirking Archangel. Osborn lifts his staff to block the cracking of your whip, letting it coil around it and yanking it so that it slips from your grasp. Gritting your teeth, you transform the whip that's still in your hand into a dagger. Hobie uses his claws to swipe at the older angel, who dodges each blow and shoots a hand out to wrench the dagger from your hands like it was magnetized. With a wicked gleam in his eyes, he thrust the dagger forward, aiming for the demon's chest and furrowing his brows when his arm is suddenly covered in spiders.

Hobie's form morphs lightning quick, becoming a massive bat with gleaming fangs that viciously bites Osborn’s flesh. Snarl twisting his lips, he goes to swat him away, only for you to coil a chain around his wrist and twist it around hard. You can hear the way his bone snaps, the sound wet and making him howl with pain. He's quick to heal the broken bone, divine energy an aura around him. Heart pounding in your ears, you see Hobie form into a panther in order to rip a chunk of flesh from the angel's calf. Norman drops down to his knee before grabbing your demon by the neck, the inky black fur sizzling in his grip as the panther yowls with pain.

Energy pulses between your hands as you conjure a bow and arrow, pulling the bowstring back and releasing the glistening arrow. It sings as it flies through the air, hitting Osborn right in the hand on your love's neck. The Archangel howls as the arrow pierces his flesh, the arrowhead poking straight through the side of his palm. He lets go of Hobie with a grimace, hand shooting out a powerful gust of wind that blasts your demon several feet away from him. His injured state leaves him open and you take the opportunity to summon a glittering sword that thrums with divine energy, rushing over to him with a furious look gleaming in your eyes. Only for his whispered words to make you seize up, goosebumps breaking across your flesh.

“This is not what I envisioned for you, little dove. You must know that, yes?” Norman says with a kind smile, icy blue eyes devoid of emotion betraying his soft spoken words. Still, the nickname is enough to make you hesitate, make the memories of constantly being harassed and punished by him flood back into your mind all too quickly. Your hands shake and your breath quickens as you try to reign in the feeling of helplessness suddenly threatening to drown you. He's uttered those words plenty of times before, times where he'd lock you into a room and scar you while kissing the marks he left as punishment for not being how he wanted you to be. For not abiding by his rules. For not giving yourself to him everytime he asked. The times when he'd degrade you for failing to master things he'd teach you, yell at you while his hands dug into your scalp. It felt like walls were closing in on you and you couldn't move, your sword falling between trembling fingers as unshed tears stung your eyes.

“Y/N, look out!” Hobie's shout makes you peer up, only for a piercing scream of agony to leave your lips, your quivering wings severed and clutched in the Archangel's fist. Blood oozes down your back and seeps into your robes as you fall to the ground, writhing in pain. Teeth bared and eyes glowing bright with boiling rage, Hobie roars and lunges at Osborn, eager to wipe the sick grin off his face. Norman makes a low sound of disapproval and wags a finger at him before light bursts from his fingers, a beam of divine energy shooting the demon in his chest and leaving a gaping wound. He screams as the light sears his flesh way too close to his heart for comfort, his pained cries making your heart freeze with fear. Your screams of terror for your love almost being killed turns into a roar of white hot wrath that practically boils you from the inside out.

You're a blur of fury as you roll onto your knees and shoot a ray of sparkling light at Norman's thigh, the beam searing his skin and leaving a bloodied hole. You shoot another at his shoulder as you jump to your feet, then another to his side. Wrath incarnate, you litter him full of holes, divine rays leaving chunks of his flesh to drip onto his throne. And as he stumbles back to trip on his self-made throne of gold and ivory, you summon your sword back into your hands. With one last shout, you thrust the weapon deep into his middle, crimson ichor seeping into the white fabric of his robes. Blood and roses scent the air as the fighting of the rebels cease, all eyes watching as Osborn looks into the face of his once highly adored angel.

“F-Filthy sinner”, the dying Osborn says with an astounded chuckle, spitting blood onto your face as it bubbles up his throat and spills past his pale lips. Your chest heaves as you look down at the Archangel, your severed wings still tight in his grip. Blood splatters onto his robe as he coughs, blue eyes radiating malice and contempt as he sneers at you.

“You could have had it all. If you'd been obedient and joined me. I could've reached true Godhood with an angel so pure and bright as you on my arm, in my corner. Now you're nothing but defiled waste.” His strained words almost make you want to laugh and you tilt your head at him, something akin to pity shining in your eyes as you twist the sword deeper.

“You're a fool, Norman. A fool to think you could get away with hurting those I love. Where's all your faith now, when you need it most? Clearly not giving you any strength right now.” You mumble before chuckling and letting the sword dissipate into a flutter of sparkles. There's a low rumble of a growl behind you, little barks that sound close to a laugh. A hyena's laugh.

“This is what happens when you try to play God and disrupt the balance of things.” Is what you mumble as you feel a massive presence looming over your shoulder. Osborn trembles at the sight of the creature behind you, prayers to the Almighty stumbling between his blood speckled lips as he holds out a shaking hand for mercy. You have none to give and neither does the growling form of Hobie, his massive hyena form black and dripping with an inky mist that spreads a terrifying shadow. Drool dribbles from his mouth as he licks at his chops, maw open and ear flicking. Patting your demon's furry cheek, you lean down towards the frightened Osborn, lips near his ear.

“The Almighty hath forsaken thee, High Priest”, you whisper in his ear before stepping back, watching as the hyena stalks forward, the sinister laugh of the creature making the fallen Archangel whimper. Norman begs and pleads for mercy and forgiveness, none that are afforded to him as Hobie descends upon him. Sharp teeth tearing at flesh and snapping bones, claws ripping apart organs and gore dribbling down the throne. And as you watch Hobie devour him whole bones and all, you're suddenly called into a void of white. Eyes frantically looking about, you're shocked at the looming silhouette of an entity gazing down at you. It's massive and towers higher than any mountain you'd ever seen. The entity bows its head in respect, in thanks before you're suddenly forced back into your body with a shaking gasp.

Body shaking and back arching, you cry out as you feel something pushing forth from your back, your spine. It feels like you'll explode if you don't let it out, your eyes rolling as it sprouts free from it's confines. Stumbling and shaking your head to clear the dizziness, your chest heaves before you feel something familiar. A weight that had been missing for years. Hobie's next to you then, wriggling spiders shaping him into his normal form once again. The hole in his chest is slowly closing up, the energy he got from devouring Osborn healing him. His eyes are wide as he looks at you in awe.

“Lovie… Your wings..!” His words make your heart soar with hope and you quickly wrap them around yourself in order to look at them, the action second nature even after seemingly loosing them. A gasp leaves your lips as you look at what has sprouted from you. Large glittering wings that sparkle. As you move them, the feathers switch between a pristine white to a shimmering black, then back again. Any time you moved a certain way, the color changed. And inside your heart, you know who the entity was.

Everything that happens next is a blur to you then, you who were exhausted from the draining battle. The remaining Archangels that sided with Osborn are locked up, plans to give them a chance at repentance being discussed. Ned, Serenity and Riri talk with the rebel angels in their King’s stead, negotiating terms of peace and planning clean up crews on earth. Hobie pulls you into an embrace that seems to make your knees weak, exhaustion making your bones ache as you sag against him. It was finally over. Osborn couldn't hurt you or Hobie or your children anymore. Your love lifts you into his arms, carrying you over to the swirling portal that led to your new home, where your children await. Where, after a century of waiting, your life with Hobie can finally be resumed.

[socialkid]

Salt Prank on Bakugou

Warnings: Not proof read!!! Slight(ish) Cursing.

Um I’m not really sure if I like this so I didn’t read it back 😭 So it might take me a little while to revise my mistakes.

———————————————————————————————————————

You watched as Bakugou read, nose deep into his book in the dining room from the microwave reflection. You snickered as you stirred the bubbling pot of miyabi soup in front of you.

“Is something funny?” Bakugou asked as you came to a halt.

“No…just thinking.” You said now biting the inside of your cheek. He grunted in response, “Mhm don’t play around and mess up the food.” You rolled your eyes. About a month ago you’d been fooling around on your phone in the kitchen, and ended up burning the rice to a crisp. And your boyfriend still makes sure that you don’t live it down.

Lately he’s been a little more of a pain in the ass than usual. So what’s a better way to get your get back than pranking him!?

Last week you’d come across a page on TikTok revolving around this couple who pranked each other constantly. As you corny as you thought it was, one prank in particular caught your eye. The girl had made a pasta dish and fed it to her boyfriend on a spoon, not before filling the bottom of the spoon with salt.

You wondered how your boyfriend would react, since he was such a big cook himself. He was a younger version of Gordon Ramsay.

“It’s about done Katsuki, but I want you to taste it to give me some feedback.” You said grabbing a spoon from inside the cabinet drawer. He grunted in response, “Yeah yeah.”

You subtly reached for the salt and filled the bottom of the spoon up. You carefully submerged the spoon in the soup, and grabbed your phone from your back pocket. You flipped to your camera app and began recording as you made your way to Katsuki.

“Here babe, you can try it now.” You said as Bakugou looked up from his book. He reached for the spoon you held in front of him before cocking one of his blonde brows. “Why’re recording me for?” He asked. “Just wanna see your reaction that’s all.” You smiled.

Bakugou just deadpanned as you bit your cheek once again. “Please?” You asked a little more desperately.

Rolling his eyes he grabbed for the spoon as you pulled away, “Let me feed you.” You said. Bakugou opened his mouth, and you knew he was just planning to rebuttle. You held it to his face as he gave in and let you feed him the soup.

“Mmm.” He hummed before going silent. He furrowed his brows as if lost and confused. He didn’t swallow all the way and now he’d began choking a bit. “Is it good baby?” You asked attempting to hold back your laugh.

Bakugou didn’t know whether to spit it out or swallow the soup, but he didn’t want to hurt your feelings. He slowly swallowed the soup, as he got to the last of it the tang of the salt manager to overpower him and caused him to spit the rest out.

“Oh shit!” You jumped back as Bakugou wiped his face.

“What the HELL!” he shouted as he ran to the kitchen. He opened the fridge frantically but there were no water bottles in the fridge.

“Oops forgot to refill it.” You said as he ran to the sink and began rinsing his mouth out.

After about three minutes of rinsing he cut off the sink and turned to you, who was still recording with a smug look on your face.

There was silence between you both before you lost your composure and began laughing, tears and all as he stared at you in disbelief. “Are you deadass.” He said as you about fell out I’m the floor laughing.

“Sorry Katsu,” you said wiping a tear from your eye, “I was just messing with you.”

“You better have been. Don’t ever let me find out you’re cooking like that on purpose.” He grunted as he looked at the pot. “The soup’s not ruined, it was just your spoon.” You said as he rolled his eyes. “Food’s ready by the way.” You said before he began to walk out the kitchen.

You grabbed a bowl from the cabinet before Bakugou spoke, “Oh and Y/N?” You turned to face him.

“Yeah?” You hummed.

“You’re not safe as long as I’m in this household.” You practically heard the evil smirk on his face with that one :/

[inthedarkshadows000]

SneakPeak#106.......

From the story I might never write

How dare she. She has been ignoring me and eyeing my husband, Suguru, for the past forty three minutes and twenty two seconds. Yes. I counted. What else was I supposed to do while being ignored.

Suguru and I had decided to finally move out of our current apartment, with the girls, and shift to a bigger place. It was way to cramped for four people and now with both of earning, in jujutsu world, we had gathered more than enough to finish the down payment instantly.

So we contacted a realtor to show us some places according to our requirements. Mind you, the requirements DID NOT include a middle aged lady, with way too many operations on her face and boobs, who flirts with a taken man. Like bruh, I get my man looks like a god but back. The. Fuck. Off!

So here we were, him getting hit on by a plastic lady, with her nose a little too way off and her one boob smaller than the other.

All I want to do is come out and burn the bitch to crisps with my curse energy but no, apparently being jealous wasn't a good enough reason for murder nowadays, pfft, as if. What if my man needs me to save his honour, huh?

Suguru has been holding my hand and trying to include me in the conversation but that bitch had purposely and extremely unsubtly been leaving me out.

If I wasn't fuming right now, his situation would have made me laugh real hard. He seems so uncomfortable and aborable trying to maintain a safe distance from her. I'll protect you my pretty boy, don't you worry.

Now, only if my eyes could shoot lasers, it would have made things really easy. Like, oops my B. However, they still don't. Trust. I tried squinting. This was the cool power I was supposed to get with my curse shit but no! Nothing cool here.

Forget cool powers. Let me at the bitch bare hands and I'll have her in shreds before you can even finish saying laser. Yeah... my inner bitch was NOT happy.

On a second thought though, why waste power when words can harm more. I smirked internally, when I had an idea.

We were currently in the common area near the dining table. Suguru had his one hand on the table while his other hand circled my waist, the plastic lady in front of us. It wasn't a second after my idea, that I saw her hand go right on top of his free hand and squeeze, he pulled his hand back quickly.

Oh no, you don't! That's it!

"Alright, I have a real quick question." I say while moving between them and leaning on the table.

Ru looks relieved, probably to have a barrier in between and the bitch looks annoyed. Like I care.

I put on my most innocent smile and look at him. "Could you please clear a doubt for me, husband?" I emphasised the last word just put of spite.

"Of course love. What is it?" He quirks a brow and moves his hand to tug gently at the ends of my hair, twirling it around his finger.

"I just wanted to clear out if you have an interest, any interest at all, in Miss. -" I turned towards her making sure my hair hit her in the face, "- wait what was your name?"

Before she could answer I turned back, hitting her again with the hair, and pointed towards her, waiving my palm carelessly, and continued, "Anyway. Her "

"No, I don't love. Why would you ask?" He knew exactly why I would ask. The twinkle in his violet eyes and his horrible attempt at hiding his smile said enough. He played along anyway because let's be real, Suguru Geto loved being petty, even more so than me.

"I just wanted to clear out the fact, so she doesn't waste her time as well as ours, with her futile attempts of trying to woo you. Not to mention, I would hate for her to lose such an important deal, now wouldn't I?" I gave her a pointed look and turned back around. Yes, another hair attack!

I purposely put my left hand, which had the engagement ring on it , over his wrist which now shifted to my cheek.

"Of course, we would, love." he bit his inner cheek to keep himself from laughing, yet his shoulders shook with merth. His beautiful lips pulled in a smirk.

After giving a quick kiss to my forehead and the knuckles of my left hand, he pulled me around so that my back was to his front and we faced the bitch. He put his chin on shoulder, his smirk still evident.

The bitch had gone red. Serves her right.

"You sly, little vixen." Suguru whispered in my ear and tugged the lobe gently with his teeth. I just shrugged still maintaining my innocent smile.

"Just trying to save your sexy ass, like always. I'll take the payment in hair wash, so better be ready to finally drop your hair routine, princess."

[burntoutwaxwings]

"It feels like a puzzle. With half the pieces missing."

Indeed the world does, Percy. Indeed the world does. But that's not the whole picture. It feels like the world is a puzzle with half the pieces hidden from me. Intentionally. And sometimes, when I find a new one, other pieces go missing. Important ones too. And normally, I'm lucky enough to have those pieces stay. It's common for one to go missing. It's less common for more to go missing. 2, maybe 3 pieces missing. But they are hidden from me in places I may never find. They are hidden, with the hope that I stay looking. The hope, that in my searching, I never see the complete picture that *doesn't* existed. But I would never be able to imagine the complete picture. Some of the colors are off. The lines are inconsistent, the shapes too zoomed in. I never saw the box, so I can't just hold that mental image over my head. I turned four, and I was sat down at a puzzle. I didn't get a choice. The adult said "You will finish this puzzle. But to make it interesting and break up the monotony, I'm gonna hide some pieces (they wouldn't do that for everyone. Just people like me.)"

So of course, I start filling out the border. Not all of it is finished when I can't find the pieces. I, of course being a naïve child, start on the inner circle before finding the rest of the pieces. Oop, missing piece. O had basically gotten to the middle, finding pieces that would fit and wouldn't fit everywhere. Finding spots I could place them, everywhere. But then, I find the first important missing piece. A face of some sort (emotion). I can't find it all in my pile. I look around, eventually finding it in some Windex (somewhere I wouldn't look normally. No one would look at Windex without needing to.) I put it in. I can see it! Emotion! It makes sense now! And then I get stuck somewhere else. Sound? No, communication. I could make that face out a little. But not wholly. So I look. And I look. And I look. I have to move on at some point, and Bam! There it is, already there? But... Now texture is gone. And the whole puzzle feels... Off. Wait. Texture is still there. It's just not this texture. It didn't used to be off. The other texture was off before. What the hell? And, I know it's texture because I can move it back. But that doesn't fix it. It's still off. The new spot feels fine though. The new texture feels fine too. The old one is still off. As are a few others. But this new one is lovely! It feels great! Why can't my bed feel like this? I move on. Then I find taste. Sweet, savory, spicy, green? Green, umami, crisp, others! Most of them are good. But I don't like teal. It doesn't taste right. I don't wanna look at it. I don't want to even imagine it. Blech, keep me away from teal. It's so bad. But a lot of things taste like teal. Things other people like. A lot of other people. I want to like it too! But I can't. It's horrible. Why can't I be like them!

I find something I really like! It's the best! But other people find it weird? Is it weird to like this? Am I supposed to dislike it? Why don't they like it? Maybe I should like it in private? I want to be friend with them, but they don't like talking about it, so I guess I should just keep it secret. But that one thing becomes most things. So I only like things that are generic in front of people. And I hate it. I want to talk to them! Why can I only talk to them about their shirt color?? Or the restaurant the like? And why is it never in depth!!! ARRRGHHHGG I HATE THIS!!! THIS STUPID PUZZLE I WANT TO BURN IT!!!

And that is what it feels like. Accurately.

[morning-357]

Camp Log 2.2

me at my kids today:

bard animal speaks to the spider holding the lil lizard boy (official nickname) hostage

turns out mama spider is just trying to protect her babies (she says something criptic about how to go up means to go down so they listen to the ranger-lizard)

on watch i give them a random chest which suddenly appeared. the fighter fire-breathed it, burning it to a crisp:

“Finders keepers, I saw it first so I get to burn it.” 

they get to the basement where they read another story

lore to be continued in detail but tldr; there once was a child named bastille who had everything he needed. he was never told "no." no one ever truly connected with him. so he took and took and took. first money, then books, then a child, then a dog... all gone.

so if anyone who reads this also completed the poll from yesterday, you will probably think: what the heck is bastille??

benn (and jerry) became an amalgamation of nightmares

quick break for quote as they approach and hear footsteps at the end of the hall!

(up till this point, I told them there was gold flowing in the walls so everyone's impression was that there would be a dragon which... oops.)

Fighter: Im excited to meet my father!

*team approaches the monster*

Druid, shouting into the shadows: are you [fighter]'s father??

Monster: uhhh... yes?????

Cleric: *rolls well on an insight check*: he's lying!

Fighter: You're not my daddy!!! >:(

Ranger: Are you my daddy?

*team group huddles and make a plan where this interaction occurs*:

Cleric: Go say hi to your daddy. (sacrifice)

At this point I realized the only sane person in the group was the bard.

ranger goes to hug the monster and gets enveloped in a BIIIIIG hug :)))))))

and then... the creature starts to grow and change and morph, hundreds of faces, thousands of arms, eyes popping everywhere...

combat begins. i did NOT make this easy (5 attacks, plus 7 to hit, can deal over 50 damage per attack and nearly killed three pc's)

eventually they figuire out three things:

this is bastille

freely giving deals a shit-ton of damage

the only thing that does more damage is teamwork

they wittle his HP down through a series of lighting bolts (ouch), group vicious mockery (had to stop them from being insensitive and rude but they were quite funny overall), and basketball which 5 children destroyed me in

in the end, they are let with a small child made of smoke -- non corporeal. the cleric gently takes the crystal (the thing they need for the quest) and says that being able to give and take is healing.

im so proud of my children. they did good.

sooooo plan/poll for tmr: gotta get/make a monster based on vanity or self esteem (lack of + dragging people down). I need to get them on the track of compliments. i dont give a flip flop if they say this is mlp-core. the power of friendship is real <3

[gendervapor14]

two fights for freedom ~ chapter three: hope remains

It was hard to miss him. Near impossible. The guy was a giant compared to the citizens flocking him, barking about their perks and their discounts. He had his arms full with a huge basket of goods, and some kid beside him was holding onto a growing armful.

“Who is that guy, Genzo?” Nami questioned sweetly, “I don’t recognize him.”

Neither did he. “Stay here, alright? I’m going to go interrogate him.”

“Stay here? In the middle of town?”

Her eyes batted innocently when he looked her way. Maybe that wasn’t the best advice in hindsight.

“Go back to the orchard, then. Help your sister.”

“Yay!” Nami threw her arms in the air exuberantly, bustling off towards her home. Bell-mère could chew him out for this later. There were more pressing concerns.

Nearby vendors hardly looked his way when he approached. Not with the berri signs glimmering in their eyes. “Hey, hey, enough.” Genzo called out, which finally warranted some attention. “Everyone get back to your booths.” He ordered with a strong extension of his arm. The stranger and his kid shifted their focus towards the authority figure. “You two. I don’t recognize you. Who are you, where are you from?”

“We’re travelers.” The blond spoke in a friendly baritone. His hair was a bit unkempt, all waves and curls from the humidity. Jeans, boots, a crisp, clean button-down. He wasn’t from the East Blue. “Call me Dante. And this, this is my kid, Paul.” He plopped a hand over the teen’s spotted hat. Hard to believe they were related in any way. Dark hair, darker, splotchy skin. At least he was wearing shorts. He offered nothing but a silent wave, while the other arm awkwardly managed the bulk of his basket.

“Travelers.” Genzo repeated, as the townspeople listened on in silent awe. “Why have you come here, of all places?” He eyed between them fiercely, “And how?”

“By…boat?” Dante’s reddish eyes darted about as he chuckled nervously. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, how did you get past the Arlong Pirates?” Genzo bit out, tired of this blissful oversight.

“The…Arlong Pirates…?” That dopey grin started to melt.

oops i forgot to post this snippet on tumblr. here it is!! i just finished a draft of chapter 11 tonight and we're about 1/3 of the way done with my outline so she's lookin like she might be about 30 chapters. i think i should be able to keep up with the weekly posting for now.

title: two fights for freedom rating: M category: F/M, gen content warnings: graphic depictions of violence status: incomplete, three chapters, 9,637 words relationship: rosinante/bell-mere, cora & law, rosinante & hatchan, bell-mere & rosinante & law & nami & nojiko, rosinante & genzo, bell-mere & genzo characters: rosinante, bell-mere, law, nami, nojiko, genzo, nako, hatchan, arlong, arlong pirates additional tags: canon divergent, fix-it, everybody lives, pre-arlong park, angst with a happy ending, angst and feels, fluff and humor, hurt/comfort, scheming, suggestive themes, sexual tension, limes (yes i'm bringing limes back), eventual smut, romance, slow burn, arguing, financial issues, broken bones, references to depression, referenced alcoholism, mental health issues, canon backstory, mentioned doflamingo, non-canon backstory (giving bell-mere a backstory), found family, medical inaccuracies, blood and injury, trafalgar d. water law is a little shit, developing friendships, more tags to be added later (?) summary: freedom for one means adventure. exploring all the world has to offer, while avoiding the occasional haunting. freedom for another almost costs an arm and two daughters. a home, a village. perhaps freedom is best sought back-to-back. {a cora and bell-mère lives au}

♥

[blankfairy]

Oooo I want to hear about your “weirwood” wip👀

tysm for the ask!! !! from this post.

!! i just started working on this a few days ago! most of my wips are just one-shots, but i think this'll become a chapter of my hotd fic, all things devour.

it'll go in one of the beginning chapters, when the main character, samsa waters, is about thirteen. she visits the king's landing godswood and finds her eight year old (did not realize he was that young until i just calculated it) half brother, trystane strong. he gives her some things to think about. but because samsa is thirteen and thinks she knows everything (including that her little brother is weird), she just kind of ignores what he has to say.

i ALSO was mistaken, because i named this weirwood, even though the heart tree in the kl godswood is an oak. oops.

snippet under the cut :3

One foggy morning after losing Aemond to his mother, the godswood called, and Samsa answered. Chimera’s Nest had no godswood. It cradled more faiths than Samsa could count, thickets of worshipers and prayers were to be found wherever she went. The ramshack sept never housed more than a handful of candles at each aspect, but something always burned; shrines were everywhere, strewn in incensed alleyways, sitting atop merchants’ counters, nestled in private crooks of shops and homes. Even Valyria’s still stood, deep in the caverns beneath Arlior Ānogrion, crusted with salt and worn by the thousands of high tides past. But they were as dead as Old Valyria itself; Vhagar and Balerion and the rest sat buried in the smoldering rubble that once revered them. When Samsa visited the old faces of her ancestors’ gods, wading in sea water up to her knees, she felt more divine than any of them. She didn’t feel any less powerful in the sept, or standing before the gods of Essos and Yi Ti and beyond, but here, in the godswood, the unease burned in her belly like a bubbling wound. Samsa stepped into the crisp air, heard the whisper of the wind in the trees and the intrusive thunk of her own footsteps, and shivered, but not for the cold. Disquiet blossomed here. Rage shot up from the soil like weeds. No amount of moonblooms or dragon’s breath or blood red malvales could mask it. The heart tree watched her as she approached, weeping red sap. Samsa’s stomach clenched under its strangely thoughtful gaze. A jolt of disbelief struck her the moment she met its eyes. “What am I doing?” Samsa shook her head, then the rest of her body, trying to rid herself of her nerves. She pulled her heavy wool cloak tight around her shoulders. If this was the curiosity that called, she drew her eyes down and felt sated. This was no godswood, it was a garden, the singular weirwood in Chimera’s Nest was more impressive than this thick oak, and she didn’t need to waste her time looking at trees and smelling flowers… A soft voice called to her. “Lady Waters?” Samsa curled her lip. Even with her hearing, she wasn’t sure where the voice had come from, and spun around. There was no one behind her. A heavy gust of wind pushed at her back and sent her cloak whipping at her legs. “Don’t call me that.” She turned back around, squinting. Trystane Strong, heir to Harrenhal, crept out from behind the massive oak, a hand pressed to its pale bark. “You’re a lady, aren’t you?” Somehow, amongst the greens and reds and blues of the godswood, Trystane looked taller than he had in the training yard. His streaked hair of curtained his face in white and brown and fell in loose curls to his shoulders. He wore a plain doublet of his house colors, and a rich red cloak that turned his eyes into depthless pools of blue. It seemed to swallow his wiry body whole. Beneath its embroidered edges his twisted foot stuck out, jutting against the grass covered roots. Before Samsa had a chance to snap at him, Trystane spoke again. “I saw the way you watched me in the yard. You hate me too, don’t you?”