#she literally can’t help herself she’s gonna ask for pussy every three seconds like a dog begging for cheese

[moghedien]

“It was worth a shot”

[giorno-plays-piano]

Soft and Supple

Pairing: wolf!Bucky Barnes x bunny!reader

Warnings: dubcon, breeding, some a/b/o references, dirty talk, degradation.

Words: 1317.

Summary: The Big Bad Wolf was going to get you this time.

P.S. Please don't even ask me why 😩😩

__________

“Where are you going, baby?”

You could feel him hovering over you from behind, his arms getting restless as he cupped your breasts, breathing in your neck - you could feel the airy touch of his lips on your gentle skin. That cocky bastard had the audacity to fondle you in broad daylight like some pervert! Desperately trying to get away from Bucky, a wolf living in the forest close to the market where you were heading to buy some food, you squirmed when he turned your head towards him to give you a heated kiss, silencing your protests.

If a stranger saw you, they would call for help, but you knew it was useless: first, no one would hear you deep in the woods; second, it wasn’t the first time Bucky was doing that to you, but he had never gone further from there, usually slapping your ass and letting you run away as fast as you could, mocking you with his whistling or yelling something dirty. It looked insane, but you felt it was his way to communicate - in the end, he was a wolf, and you were born a little, weak bunny. His instincts kicked in every time he saw you.

“I’m... I’m not y-your baby.” you mewled when he finally let go of your lips, grinning at you like a predator willing to play with its prey. “You have to stop it! We’re n-not some savages.”

“Yeah? Would you like me to eat you like a Big Bag Wolf should, baby?” his breath was warming your long bunny ear, and you giggled, unable to hide your reaction from him. “Don’t tell me you don’t wanna fuck, bunny girl. You’ve been wagging that sweet fluffy tail in front of me the whole time like a slut.”

Oh, he was really getting riled up today, you thought and glanced back at him, shaking a little: while he would manhandle you every time you passed through this part of the forest, Bucky had never forced you to have sex with him. It looked like he was barely holding on today, his long rock-hard cock rubbing against your ass.

“Bucky, please. I was just passing by.” You muttered when he lowered his lips to your neck, his sharp teeth scraping it a little and drawing a pained sigh from you.

Shit, his hand was quickly travelling down your stomach: he cupped your pussy through the fabric of your shorts, leaving a hungry kiss on your neck and making you shiver with want, your hormones raging, making it even harder to resist him. Nonono, you couldn’t do it, you couldn’t submit to that damn cocky wolf who had been harassing you for months and was really going to rape you this time. You had to get out and report him, make police issue a restriction order or something, anything to keep Bucky away...

“There are lots of paths through the forest, but every time you come to my house like a girl who can’t help herself, knowing what’s gonna happen.”

He already had you pinned against the wall, your basket dropped somewhere to the ground, but you could barely focus when the wolf grabbed your ears, pinching them between his calloused fingers and making you squirm like a pathetic little bunny you were. It’s your weak spot, those damn soft, overly sensitive ears Bucky kept massaging with his thumb, making your knees tremble. Shit, shit, shit, it’s so good when he’s doing that, it’s so good your pussy got wet in a couple of seconds.

“I’ve heard pretty bunnies like you can cum real hard from just a small tickling of their ears. That’s true, baby? You gonna cum for me?” He tainted you, his lips ghosting over yours when he stared you in the eyes, watching you giving him a cute little sob, your lower lip quivering.

You wanted to tell him to leave you alone, let you go and never do this again to you, but you couldn’t, you couldn’t say anything but mewl when he stroked your soft, fluffy ears, his rough hands playing with them so good it turned off your brain, your juices leaking to the point Bucky could see the stains on your shorts, getting hungry for more. He then massaged them harder, pressing his thumbs to the inner part of your long ears, punching them with his fingers, crumpling their ends until you let out a high-pitched moan all of a sudden and started cumming right in front of him, your eyes rolling back into your skull when you opened your mouth, showing the wolf your little bunny tongue.

“Shit. Didn’t know it was true.” He muttered at the sight of you, your knees trembling as you quickly slumped down, unable to keep yourself standing - your shorts had been so stained Bucky wondered if it were easier to just throw them away rather than make them presentable again. “Oh baby, we’re gonna have so much fun.”

He was going to knot you. Shit, he was going to get his knot so deep inside you that you’d cum just from it alone, dumb little baby who had been flaunting her pretty tail in front of him for so long, hoping he’d dick you down and fill you up real good. You didn’t even realize you had been in heat, but Bucky wasn’t angry at you: he knew his baby bunny was too dumb to admit she needed a good mate and a good fuck. Luckily, your hormones worked better than your brain, so you would pass in front of his house every time your little pussy throbbed, giving him a good look at you. Sure, you acted like you didn’t want it, a fucking tease, but Bucky knew what he needed to do.

It just took him a bit more time to reorganize the rooms: his own desperately needed a makeover since you’d share it with him soon enough, and the nursery had to be built from scratch. Dumb little bunny, you had no idea how hard it was for a wolf like him to keep calm, stopping himself from jumping at you the second you walked near his house. Bunnies like you wanted to fuck till they could no longer speak, but wolves like him had to take care of their families, providing for them so that their sweet little babies would live in a safe place and have food on the table. Bucky didn't blame you, though. You were his cute, dumb bunny who needed a strong and smart wolf like him to live a good life.

"Bu-Bucky." you squirmed when he took you in his arms, lifting your from the ground and barging in the house, getting straight up to the room he finished renovated just yesterday, a new comfy bed awaiting for you two. "We c-can't do that... What if I get pregnant?"

"Of course, you'll get pregnant after you milk my cock like a good bunny girl you are." he growled into your ear, stripping you of your clothes, watching your wet throbbing pussy asking for a cock when he started fingering you just in case your cunt wasn't loose enough to fit him all, his knot getting painfully big. "How many babies you gonna give me, huh? Three? Four? Maybe more if I knock you up well?"

When you tried talking some sense into him, putting your arm on his chest to keep him away but ending up softly caressing it, Bucky sent you a wolfish grin, bottoming you out in one thrust - he couldn't wait a second longer, his own instincts taking over him when he started fucking you into his bed, loosening your leaking cunt for his fat knot. Oh, your sweet bunny pussy was the best. He'd make sure he got you knocked up the first time he filled your cunt with his cum.

_________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki   ​@helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherubwrites @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @soleil-dor @stargazingfangirl18 @dillybuggg @literate-lamb @cosicas-cuquis @sarge-barnes-sir @buckybarnesplumwhore @jaysayey @megzdoodle @gotnofucks @lux-ravenwolf @ximebebx @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @sourpatchspinster @iheartsebandchris

[avtrbee]

Unexpected Secret

inspired by the tumblr post above!

this fic defies almost everyhting that is canon but its really cute and fluffy in my opinion so idc idc idc

Petra was furious.

I’m gonna kill her, Petra thought, mopping away the last of the dirt from the stables. I don’t care how but I’m going to make it look like an accident.

Petra was furious.

Putting her anger on the mop she had gripped in her fist she aggressively wiped the stable floors clean, but her thoughts were somewhere else. Y/N L/N was the reason why she was stuck cleaning the stables during a Friday night when she could’ve spent the day in the market with Oluo buying cute clothes or enjoying a new café or getting drunk or just about anything. 

Petra loved her friend but no matter which way Petra tried to twist the situation, Y/N was the sole reason to blame. Y/N was the one who suggested getting drunk in her room that night, Y/N was the one who suggested the game, Y/N was the one who proposed the punishment, and Y/N was the one who called her a pussy for backing out, so of course Petra had to do it. Petra had to run through the hallway, from the stairway and back to the room naked. 

It didn’t help that Y/N’s room was the farthest room from the stairwell. Petra didn’t have a problem getting naked around Y/N and their friends- they’ve seen each other’s bodies enough with the communal showers and the occasional first aid outside the walls. Petra isn’t ashamed of her own body either, she may look petite but she was hardened muscle from all the training she endured to become the one of the best. Though Y/N had her own private room as one of the Survey Corps’ Section Commander, her floor was also near the other superior’s private spaces. 

Once Petra made it out, she dashed to the stairs as fast as she could before turning back and running like there was a titan behind her to the privacy and safety of Y/N’s room. Until Hange, Levi and Mike came out of Erwin’s room from their own private party only to stare at Petra like she was a dog with three heads. 

Petra could’ve died right there. In fact, she would have preferred it if she did. Hange laughed (“Oh, it’s one of those nights, eh?), Levi looked away with disgust evident in his face and walked to another laughing Y/N, who witnessed the entire incident, instead. Mike just stood there with his brain probably short circuiting and nose occasionally twitching. To make matters worse, Erwin came outside to see what Hange was laughing about.

I’m gonna kill her, Petra thought, mopping away the last of the dirt from the stables. I don’t care how but I’m going to make it look like an accident.

Petra looked up from her hard work and wiped her forehead. She smelled like horse shit and probably looked like one too. A few yards away from her clean stable stood Y/N and Eren together under the sun with Mikasa not so far running towards them.

Petra watched as Mikasa hastily put herself between Y/N and Eren with a glare on her face. Was it really a glare or was it just Mikasa’s usual stoic face? Petra didn’t care- a plan was slowly starting to form in her head. 

-

Petra didn’t bother rushing to the cafeteria to get first in line like she usually would. Instead she ate some heavy snacks before and took her time. Thinking back, Y/N was the only one out of her superiors to sit on another table other than the space designated for them. She usually sat with Eren, with Levi occasionally joining them. 

Once she strolled inside, the place was packed with soldiers along with hundreds of conversations going on at the same time. Perfect. Just as she planned. Just as she thought, Y/N and Eren were chatting away alone on one table with Mikasa several tables away shooting them looks every now and then.

Petra smiled. Victory tastes so sweet. She slowed down her steps and savored her way to victory as she walked over to Mikasa. “Oi, Mikasa.” she said obnoxiously loud, gathering the attention of several people.

Mikasa turned her head from Eren and Y/N’s table, and stared at her with her cold gray eyes. “Yes, Petra?”

Petra giggled, unable to keep her mood down. “Y’know, Y/N told me a secret.” She said, voice getting louder with every word.

Behind her, Petra heard Y/N speak. “Done from the stables, darling?”

Faint snickers from around the hall erupted. No doubt the story has already gone around. Petra felt a nerve in her head pop. That almost got her. Almost. 

Ignoring the rest of the people, Mikasa kept her eyes on her. “What did she say?”

She crouched down and put a hand on her cheek like she was about to whisper. “She told me that she loves Eren, very, very much.”

Silence. 

Utter silence. 

From the corner of her eye she sees that Sasha had a spoon halfway through her mouth filled with seconds of today’s dinner, while Jean and Connie’s eyes were darting back and forth to her and Y/N, who had gone up from her seat and was walking towards her.

Petra stood back and let herself smile a truly evil smile. That’s what you get, Y/N. You bitch. To be honest, Y/N was probably going to beat her up. Petra didn’t care. She could try if Mikasa won’t get to her first.

Mikasa blinked. “Well, I sure hope so. Eren and I love her just as much.”

Wait- “What?” 

That wasn’t the reaction she was expecting.

“Oi, oi, Mikasa. You’re going to make your mother cry. I’ve never heard you speak like that before.” Y/N clasped a hand on Petra’s shoulder. Y/N had this smirk as if asking oh is this what you planned?

Huh, wait- “Mother? You mean-”

At the same time, Mikasa looked at Y/N. “Okasan, I have told you I loved you many times.”

“What do you mean okasan- are you-?” Petra turned her head to Y/N. 

Y/N leaned shifted her weight on one leg and crossed her arms. She was smiling, probably enjoying Petra’s confusion. “Yes. I am.”

“But-” Petra stuttered. “Eren too?”

“Yes.” Y/N laughed. Petra should’ve been furious, but at this point she was too focused on solving this familial situation she accidentally uncovered. Plus, everyone was listening in. They were curious too.

Petra shoved her hands in her hair. “They’re siblings?”

“Well, I thought we’ve established that before.” Y/N replied. 

“But I thought- Mikasa was charging at you because you were with Eren just a while ago!” 

Y/N deflated. “Oh, that. I was scolding the brat. He was reckless during the last expedition again. You’d remember, you were the one who saved him.” Fuck. Yes, Petra remembered very well. She almost lost her right hand because of that boy. “Mikasa just came over to protect her brother. I might’ve gone overboard too…”

“Then why isn’t Mikasa sitting with you?”

“Oh, I’ve been encouraging her to interact with people other than family. She barely has friends, y’know.”

“Don’t they have different last names?” Petra asked. She was losing her sanity. 

“What, Jeager? L/N was my dad’s. Jeager my mother’s name, I had him when I was young. And, well, technically, Mikasa isn’t mine by blood.” Y/N sat down beside the girl and slung her arm around Mikasa. “She came with my marriage. She’s still my daughter though.” Petra saw Mikasa hide a smile under her scarf.

“Married?” Petra asked. “You’re married?”

“Yup,” Y/N replied, popping her words. “When are you and Oluo gonna tie the knot, by the way-”

Petra couldn't even be bothered to blush at the question. She saw Oluo choke on his food from their usual table though. “Is he in the military?” 

“Yes. We met years before he was in the military though.”

“Is he in the Survey Corps?”

Y/N grinned. “Yes.”

“Is he a superior officer?”

Y/N’s smile grew wider. “Yes.”

Petra felt dread creep down her spine. “Is it Commander Smith?” If Petra really did just try to call out the commander’s wife in front of everyone, she’s dead meat. She’s probably gonna clean the stables on Fridays forever. 

To her relief Y/N said, “Pssh, Mikasa isn’t blonde y’know.”

Petra was losing her patience. “Then who the fuck is it-”

“They literally have the same last name Petra.”

Silence.

Only this time, Petra wasn’t smiling. Her brain was probably overheated from all the information Y/N gave her.

“Oi, Petra” said Levi who was coming inside the cafeteria. “What the hell is going on?”

“Captain!” She squeaked, not expecting his voice. Perfect timing too. 

“Don’t tease her anymore, Levi. It’s my fault, I was just telling her about our familial situation.” Y/N said. 

“Tch,” Levi lightly slapped Y/N at the back of her head. “What happened to keeping it a secret?” 

“Oh, well, they were bound to know anyway. Your son over there can’t keep his mouth shut, I’m surprised he lasted this long.” Y/N nodded to Eren back to her table while the latter hid his face on the table, occasionally banging his fist on the wood. “Though I didn’t expect them to find out this way though...and the entire Survey Corps for that matter.”

“You’ve caused us a nuisance.” Levi deadpanned at Y/N- at his wife? Petra was still trying to comprehend everything.

“Let’s go home.” Levi announced, heading out of the cafeteria. “I can’t stand to be stared at any longer. It’s making me feel like a pig with fucking wings.”

At the words of their Captain- Father?- Mikasa and Eren stood up and picked up their empty food trays. 

Oh, that's right. Petra knew that Y/N and Levi had a separate house somewhere near their HQ; she just didn’t even consider the possibility that they were living together. Fuck, she has seen them leaving too, but she just assumed that they were walking each other because they lived in the same neighborhood or something. 

Petra even spotted Mikasa and Y/N together in the market shopping for vegetables, but she thought it was only a kind gesture. Y/N can be like that sometimes. She even spotted Eren and Levi inside a cleaning shop when she was buying a new mop once. And Mikasa and Levi’s surnames? Petra didn’t even suspect anything because it was common knowledge in the Corps that two of their strongest soldiers had the same last name- had none of them suspected anything?

Looking around, Petra spotted similar confused faces like her own. Ah, so no one did. 

She felt her legs give up on her and plopped on the seat Mikasa previously sat on. She watched as Levi, Y/N, and their children walked out the cafeteria with a blank stare. What the fuck just happened? 

btww,,,the vibe of reader and petra here are like really close friends that tease each other a lot. i can understand why people think that petra seems like the “villain” here but i swear its just that kind of friendship 😭 im sorry if it didnt deliver properly but ill try better next time !!

[organabanana]

leaves of three, let it be [2/3] || harlivy

Chapters: 2/3

Fandom:  DCU (Comics)DCUHarley Quinn (Comics)Harley Quinn (Cartoon 2019)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence

Relationships: Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel

Characters: Pamela Isley, Harleen Quinzel, Selina Kyle

Additional Tags: Mentions of alcohol, mentions of batman fucking bats, most of this is straight up idiocy tbh, i just finished watching the cartoon so everyone swears like a sailor i’m sorry, rated for (ahem) happenings later on, ivy/harley/catwoman frenemies

Summary

After Harley mistakenly confesses her love and then promptly takes it back, Ivy spends some time sorting through the things she absolutely doesn't feel (and the ones she does). Selina and Harley don't quite help.

Chapter 1: Tumblr | AO3

Chapter 2: AO3

If you ever asked Poison Ivy if she’s into meditation, she’d say she isn’t.

Actually, if you ever asked Poison Ivy if she’s into meditation, she’d probably stare you down until you crumbled under the sheer weight of her judgment and apologized for ever talking to her, but that’s beside the point.

The point is, Ivy doesn’t meditate. The concept of meditation, if you ask her, goes in the same patchouli-scented box as moon-charged crystals and essential oils.

No. What Ivy does is… introspection. Yeah. She introspects. She consciously clears her mind of all intrusive thoughts. Which may sound a lot like meditation, maybe? But — she cannot stress this enough — it’s not the same thing.

So there she is. Sitting on her couch. Introspecting. And it may look like she’s staring off into the distance, but she’s actually looking at a nearly invisible, tiny little hint of a green sprout that’s managed to grow in a crack on the windowsill.

There it is. A tiny little fighter. Just like—

Nope.

No way.

We are absolutely not thinking about her. We’re introspecting. So Ivy takes in a deep breath, in through her nose, eyes fluttering closed as she exhales slowly and then opens them and tries again.

As she was saying. A tiny little sprout. She could go over there and touch it and quite literally breathe life into it. She can’t tell what kind of plant it is, but she could make it bloom if it’s a flowering species. What if it’s a tree? She could make it grow so big its roots would tear this whole building apart just like her heart was torn apart last ni—

Motherf—

“Morning, my little dill pickle.”

Selina climbs in through the window, practically gliding into Ivy’s apartment with the kind of grace that would normally make Ivy stop and stare and perhaps have a not-quite-respectful thought or two.

Listen: she has eyes. Don’t read into it.

Anyway. As graceful and ridiculously nimble as Selina is, she’s also way up high in Ivy’s shit list at the moment (second only to you know who), so today is not the day for lighthearted conversation and platonic crushes.

“Fuck you, Selina,” Ivy offers as a greeting, glancing at the plant to make sure it’s still there. And it is, of course. Selina fucking Kyle may be a bitch and a half, but she knows how to move without leaving a trace.

“Now?” Selina cocks one perfectly manicured eyebrow at Ivy, the slightest hint of a teasing smirk on her face. “I mean I was gonna offer brunch, but that doesn’t sound like the worst midday plan.”

Ivy simply stares for a moment, as if she’s forgotten if there’s one person in the world that’s absolutely immune to even her most wilting looks, that’s Selina fucking Kyle.

“Oh, come on,” Selina practically groans, “stop it. Brooding is such a teen boy move.”

“I am not brooding.”

“Right.” With one single word, Selina makes it clear that she doesn’t believe Ivy and, most importantly, that she doesn’t care enough to argue. “Anyway. Brunch? My treat.”

Ivy closes her eyes. Not meditating. Just introspecting. Just trying to channel the urge to make a full-grown sequoia grow out of Selina Kyle’s ass into something productive. One deep breath in through her nose and—

“We can have margaritas!” Selina lets out a quiet chuckle as she admires the perfectly matte black polish on her fingernails. “Yikes. Too soon?”

Fuck introspection.

“I. Am going. To fucking murder you.” Ivy stands up with every intention to make good on that promise, and Selina must read it in her eyes because for the first time since Ivy’s known her — for the first time in her life, maybe — Selina looks scared.

Well, maybe not scared.

But she is absolutely concerned.

“Fuck me, Ive, damn,” Selina takes one step back, no longer smirking, “calm down, will you?”

Ivy stops, Selina’s audacity basically jolting her out of her murderous rage. “Calm down, Selina? Fucking seriously? You did what you did and now you come here and tell me to fucking calm down?”

Selina tilts her head just so, like she’s conceding (against her will) that maybe there is a reason for Ivy to be somewhat upset with her.

“Oh, come on,” she sighs, rolling her shoulders like the tension has to leave her body somehow, and it will certainly not be via an apology, “it wasn’t even real poison.”

Ivy’s eyes widen slightly in disbelief. Does Selina think she’s mad because she thinks Harley was in actual danger?

No. No, Selina can’t think that, because Selina may be an asshole, but she’s a very smart asshole. So she must know Ivy’s well aware of Harley’s immunity to toxins. She must know that’s not even remotely the reason Ivy’s spent the last eleven hours and some change introspecting all thoughts of last night out of her mind.

For a split second, Ivy feels something similar to warmth towards Selina as she considers that maybe she’s simply ignoring the embarrassing part of the event to spare Ivy. Maybe she’s pretending this is about Harley’s physical wellbeing and not… well. The other thing.

Sadly, the split second passes.

“If it helps,” Selina says, and even before she finishes the sentence Ivy can already sense it won’t help at all, “it’s totally reciprocated.”

Ivy feels it crawling up her veins, thick like sap. She’s managed to distill plenty of emotions, turned them into tonics and toxins and elixirs and used them for her own benefit and the Green’s. She’s bottled love — well, lust — and hatred and rage. Fear, even. Insanity, ironically enough. But this.

This… this humiliation.

Oh, this is something else.

Ivy closes her eyes. In through her nose, and even the air feels like it has to go through that thick mixture of (public) pain and weakness and acknowledged vulnerability to get to her lungs.

It’s one thing to have Harley see her like this. Like that. Like last night. Defenses down and heart out there in the open like her ribcage’s forgotten its purpose. That’s fine, she figures, because it’s been the norm for years and years and years. It’s nothing new, really, to have Harley see her accidentally stumble over the line into pathetic from time to time. It happens.

But Selina.

Selina fucking Kyle.

Selina saw that and she understood what she was seeing and now she’s acknowledging it, and Ivy isn’t even mad anymore.

I mean, she is. She’s really fucking mad.

She’s just many other things as well as mad, so it’s harder to focus on it.

Out through her mouth. Slowly. And her voice is nice and even when she opens her eyes and looks at Selina once again.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ivy lies, walking towards the kitchen like that had been her intention all along, “there is nothing to reciprocate.”

Ivy can feel Selina’s look on the back of her head. She’s not going to give her the satisfaction of turning around, of course. Selina Kyle’s ego is healthy enough as it is. But she can absolutely feel it. A look involving an arched eyebrow and narrowed eyes and possibly a smirk. Maybe the slightest purse of painted lips, if she’s going for judgmental rather than smug.

Selina is multi-faceted in her scorn.

“You have got to be shitting me, Ive,” Selina says, and Ivy still refuses to turn around, focusing instead on staring at the interior of her fridge and ignoring the fact that ninety percent of its contents are there for Harley’s all-day snacking needs.

She ends up grabbing a jug of water not because she’s thirsty, but simply because it’s the only thing in there she knows for a fact is there just for her.

“Seriously?” Selina prods, walking closer and crossing her arms over her chest as she watches Ivy methodically fill a glass of water like it’s a delicate operation that requires her undivided attention. “You’re such a fucking pussy. And I don’t mean that as a compliment.”

Ivy does turn around then, gripping the glass with perhaps a little more force than strictly necessary. In her defense, she’d much rather be gripping Selina’s neck instead.

“Once again, Selina,” she says with a slight shrug, taking a sip of cold water, “no idea what you’re talking about.”

Selina gapes at her. It’s kind of flattering, actually. It’s not every day something leaves Selina Kyle fully unable to speak. Maybe — Ivy thinks to herself, enjoying her water — she’ll never speak again. Maybe she’ll leave Gotham entirely. Wouldn’t that be just—

Ivy’s train of thought is completely derailed by something that is never a good sign: Selina Kyle is laughing.

Not chuckling. Not snickering. Not letting out one of those sarcastic giggles she likes to use to obliterate people’s entire self-esteem.

No. No, this is honest to goodness, full-on belly laughter, and it’s fucking terrifying.

“Wh— what the fuck, Selina?” Ivy asks, trying to sound less scared than she actually is. Selina’s sense of humor is not so much dark as it is downright fucked up, and if she’s finding something in this situation funny, it can only mean someone is about to get crushed, metaphorically or otherwise.

All signs point to Ivy.

“Look at you!” Selina points in the general direction of Ivy, like she’s about to rip her fashion sense to shreds. But this, sadly, has nothing to do with clothes. “Holy shit, you’re in so much deeper than I thought, this is fucking hilarious.”

Ivy takes one step back, until her hip bumps against the counter and she blindly feels around to leave the half-empty glass on it. To her credit, she still manages to try and infuse her voice with something resembling nonchalance one last time.

“You’re not making any sen—“

“Man, you’re in love, in love, huh?”

Ivy’s been shot before. So she feels like she’s not being overly dramatic when she says Selina’s words feel just like that. Like being shot right in the gut. And Ivy tries to be as stoic as she usually is when faced with things like gunshots and blunt force and bat-shaped ninja stars (holy fuck, he’s such a nerd), but she feels a bit like she’s been standing on a castle of cards for the last… however many years it’s been since she met Dr. Quinzel in Arkham, and Selina’s just figured out exactly where to blow to make it all come tumbling down.

“I mean I knew you two were into each other. Obviously,” Selina continues, and Ivy suddenly understands the exact meaning of all those expressions regarding cats and mice, “but I thought it was like… well, you know. Friends in need of a nudge towards the benefits. But this.”

Selina shakes her head, smile as wide as her eyes. She looks both surprised and delighted. Like she’s really just found out there are feelings involved in whatever lust-filled fever dream she’d interpreted as reality before now.

“And you’re the one who’s doing all the yearning. I totally thought she was the useless one. Holy shit.” Selina takes a couple steps in the direction of the window, like using a door like a normal person is simply not an option for her. “How long?”

Ivy opens her mouth, but Selina interrupts her before any sound can come out.

“Don’t answer that. I already know.” Selina waves her hand dismissively. “No wonder you’re fucking terrified. You’d be safer falling in love with an actual hyena.”

“I’m not—“

“Please.” Selina reaches the window and notices that little plant for the first time, giving it a little pat that could almost pass for affectionate if you didn’t know Selina Kyle. “So what’s scarier, Ive?” Selina almost purrs the question. “That she may not love you back, or that she probably does?”

Ivy tells herself she could murder Selina right then and there, with the help from the little plant. Hell, she could probably kill her without help from the plant.

But that wouldn’t really fix anything, right?

“Anyway!” Selina lets out a happy little sigh as she slinks out of the window and onto the fire escape outside. “No brunch, then. I’ll leave you to your brooding.” Her smile turns into a smirk then, eyes narrowed like she’s about to pounce on an unsuspecting mouse. “And don’t worry, Ive. I can keep a secret.”

Selina winks at her before she disappears.

Ivy refuses, pointedly, to think about her conversation with Selina.

She tries to go back to her introspection, but it turns out there’s no breathing in and out when your chest is full of feelings to the point of actual physical discomfort, so Ivy gives up on that, too.

She could plot. Scheme, if you will. It’s been a while since she’s gone for an actual multi-step plan to rid Gotham — and, later, the world — of parasitic CEOs profiting off nature. A bit of environmentally friendly murder never fails to put her in a good mood.

But it turns out it’s nearly impossible to come up with a solo plan without being constantly aware of the fact that going solo is no longer her default. A plan involving only herself doesn’t feel like just any random plan anymore. Now it feels like a plan without her, and that’s just— that’s just the opposite of what she needs to be thinking about right now.

So.

What’s an eco-terrorist to do when eco-terrorism is not an option?

Eight hours later she’s in her lab, hair haphazardly held in a bun with a pencil as she looks at her latest experiment through her microscope.

The little sprout from her windowsill sits right next to the microscope in a beaker serving as a makeshift flower pot while Ivy works.

“You know, if this works,” Ivy tells the sprout, eyes trained on the cell that should enter active mitosis any second now, “you’re going to be my sidekick when we take down the next big guy.”

If this works, and she can give this tiny plant the powers she hopes to give her, they can take over Gotham and the world as a team. Ivy’s always worked best with plants, anyway. Who needs—

“Red?”

Harley’s voice is uncharacteristically mellow, but it manages to startle Ivy anyway.

“Jesus, Harley,” Ivy doesn’t look away from the microscope, “what the fuck are you doing here?”

She’s not mad. Not at Harley, anyway. None of this is her fault. She’s just—

Listen. Figuring out exactly what to call what she’s feeling would require introspection, and we’re not doing that anymore.

“Oh. I uh—“ There’s something in Harley’s tone that twists uncomfortably in Ivy’s chest. “Wanted to talk?”

Ivy doesn’t want to talk. Talking, as it turns out, may be the very last thing she wants to do. But there’s that something in Harley’s voice. Something that sounds a bit like embarrassment. Like shame, even. Like maybe if Ivy were to listen in on Harley’s inner monologue right now the voice in there would sound suspiciously like him calling her a fuck-up and an idiot and—

“I’m sorry.” Ivy leaves the little plant’s cell to enter mitosis in its own time and turns to fully focus on Harley. “I didn’t mean to snap. You just startled me.”

Harley visibly relaxes. Ivy decides she hates him just that much more than she did ten seconds ago.

“Didn’t mean to startle ya,” Harley leaves her bat propped against the trunk of a giant nightshade and takes a few steps towards Ivy.

Normally, Harley has no concept of personal space. She sits on whatever surface is closest to Ivy, invading her space and making it impossible for her to fully focus on anything that’s not Harley. It should be annoying, but it isn’t, for reasons Ivy is absolutely not going to consider at this time.

This time, however, Harley hovers just a step or two away from Ivy and her microscope and her standing desk.

It feels…

It feels wrong.

“What did you want to talk about?” Ivy taps the desk and tries not to smile when Harley beams as she practically bounces to sit on it. Her legs dangle over the edge, well-worn combat boots lightly bumping against Ivy’s legs with each soft swing of Harley’s feet.

Nothing really feels wrong anymore.

“I’m sorry, Pammy.”

Ivy shakes her head. “It’s fine. You know you’re always welcome here, I just wasn’t expecting—“

“No,” Harley says, and when Ivy looks into her eyes she realizes Harley’s not going to let her pretend she has no idea what this is about, “I mean I’m sorry about the other night.”

Ivy stands up a little straighter. Takes half a step back, like that’s going to help. Crosses her arms over her chest.

“It’s fine.”

Harley tilts her head just so, bright blue eyes narrowing for a second, and Ivy sees a flash of Harleen right there staring back at her. Reading her fucking thoughts, almost. It’s unnerving.

“It’s fine, Harley,” Ivy insists, tone sharper as she takes another step back. She can hear the low rumble of every vine in her lab stirring along with her mood.

There’s a moment there, maybe a few seconds long, where they both simply stare at each other in silence. Like they’re trying to figure each other out in a way that feels completely foreign because she knows Harley, and Harley knows her, and there’s nothing to figure out. Nothing at all.

“You know—“ Harley’s voice sounds a bit brittle, like it may just break if it hits the wrong word, “you know I didn’t mean it, Pammy.”

Ivy nods. Once.

“I know.” She knows now and she knew when she first met Harley and she’s known for the last however many years it’s been. She fucking knows it’s love but it’s not love like that. She knows. “It’s fine.”

“You know Selina just got in my head, right?” Harley keeps talking, and on some level Ivy knows there’s nothing to be angry about because Harley just wants to explain. She just wants to make sure things aren’t weird between them because they’re best friends. But it feels almost cruel anyway. “You know I don’t—“

“I know you don’t love me, Harley, yes, for fuck’s sakes, I’m not an idiot.”

“But I—“

“Don’t.” Ivy holds one finger up. If she has to listen to Harley say she loves her, but just not in that way she may lose her fucking mind. “It’s fine.”

For a few blessed seconds, it feels like maybe Harley will let it go. Like maybe she’ll just drop it and let Ivy get out of this with some semblance of pride.

But that would just be too much to ask, wouldn’t it?

“I do love you, Ive, it’s just—“

“Holy shit, Harley!” Ivy raises her voice and hears the tell-tale creak of vines growing up the wall. “I know! I fucking know, all right? Selina is a dick and you thought margarita mix was a love potion and you’re not fucking in love with me, all right? I know!”

“But—“

“No! No fucking but!” Ivy swears she hears it. The little snap when she loses her last thread of control over what she’s saying and things spill out before she has a chance to filter them. “I don’t love you either, have you even considered that?”

Harley’s eyes widen in the purest expression of surprise Ivy’s ever seen in her life.

“Right!” There’s a part of Ivy that wants to stop. She wants to stop and backtrack and tell Harley she didn’t mean it because she can’t stand the thought of hurting her, and she needs her to know that of course — of course — Ivy loves her. But she just can’t right now. “I’m not secretly in love with you! All right? I’m glad you don’t love me. I’m fucking fine.”

Harley opens her mouth like she’s about to speak, but closes it without making a sound. She doesn’t look hurt, necessarily. She looks… she looks disarmed, almost. Like she doesn’t know how to react.

“I’ll just—“ Harley swallows and jumps off the desk. “We’re fine, so I’ll just leave. Yeah?”

Ivy nods. “Fine.”

“Cool. Yeah.” Harley sort of smiles, but not really. She moves a bit slower than usual as she goes back to her bat and walks towards the door, and there’s a part of Ivy that wants to stop her and fix this somehow — because it’s not fine at all — but self-preservation wins in the end.

“Remember to lock the door on your way out.”

For a second, Harley almost looks like she may say something. And for a second, Ivy almost hopes she will. But Harley just nods and walks out, and when she hears the lock snap into place, Ivy knows she’s all alone with her plants.

Right where she belongs.

[minedcrafts]

a part 2

also on ao3

---

“Fuck you. No literally fuck you, dude. I’m fucking done,” Quackity spat out. “Go find yourself a new vice president.”

Schlatt just rolled his eyes in response. “Yeah yeah just get off my fucking property already. We all know you’re too much of a pussy to even attack me,” he snarked.

Quackity was just so, so, so done with Schlatt’s shit. He didn’t fucking care anymore. Seething inside, he silently grabbed his bow and aimed it at Schlatt, who had already turned back to continue tearing down the white house.

The arrow whizzed through the air, missing Schlatt’s head by only a few centimeters. It collided with the stone wall behind him and clattered to the ground. Schlatt wordlessly shifted to face Quackity, a sinister look in his eyes.

His snarl morphed into a wide grin as he barked out a laugh. “So! Flatty Patty’s finally taking some fucking action! Heh, too bad it won’t do you any good now, though.”

Schlatt stomped towards Quackity menacingly, each step echoing off the partially destroyed walls. The former vice president took a step back in response but held his ground, grabbing another arrow.

Branding an axe from his inventory, the look in Schlatt’s eyes became more crazed. “Y’know, I was gonna just let you leave to, I dunno, fuck off into the woods or something,” he sneered. “But now, I want you gone FOR GOOD!”

Quackity fired his second arrow, but Schlatt struck it midair, breaking it in two. Before Quackity could react Schlatt lunged at him with a swing of his axe. A horrid, searing pain suddenly appeared in Quackity’s chest, causing him to let out a ringing scream.

Quackity fell to the ground harshly, the wind getting knocked out of him. He clutched his chest with one arm and looked up at Schlatt in horror. The president put a hand to his face and threw back his head in bone-chilling laughter. With a crooked smile, he raised his axe.

“Bye-bye, Quackity!”

Out of nowhere, an arrow lodged itself into Schlatt’s shoulder. He hissed in pain, grabbing the wound with his free hand. Quackity looked in the direction of where the arrow came from just in time to see that an ender pearl was rapidly approaching them.

With a familiar vwoop sound and a flash of light, none other than Tommy appeared. He barreled into Schlatt with his shield, sending the president tumbling down the hill. Quackity stared at the rebel in utter shock. “Tommy!?” he breathed.

Tommy whipped around to face Quackity. “Big Q!” he shouted as he took off sprinting towards him. As soon as he was close, Tommy outstretched a hand. “Big Q we gotta get out of here!” he yelled in a panicked voice.

In hindsight, Quackity was about to make a pretty big decision. But in the moment, there was really only one option. He took Tommy’s hand and was subsequently pulled to his feet. Keeping hold of Quackity’s hand, Tommy hurriedly threw another ender pearl over the hill behind the white house, and a few seconds later they were both teleported into the woods.

They both breathed heavily, still bewildered from what just happened. Now out of imminent danger, the pain from Quackity’s wound finally caught up to him. He groaned, clutching his chest even harder as he felt his knees start to go weak. In response, Tommy quickly draped one of Quackity’s arms over his shoulders, letting the other lean on him for support.

“C’mon Big Q, we got to get you somewhere safe,” Tommy stated.

They walked wordlessly for a minute, Quackity attempting to suppress the small grunts he let out with every step. Eventually, though, he found he had to break the silence. “...Why are you even helping me? Aren’t we enemies?”

Tommy snorted as he looked over at Quackity. “Really, Big Q?  Schlatt just tried to murder you - are you really still on his side now?”

With that question, the reality of his situation finally clicked fully in his head. “Heh, I guess not,” Quackity muttered. He glanced ahead of them, then back to Tommy. “Where are you taking me anyway?”

Tommy grew quiet, seemingly mulling something over. After a few moments, he nodded to himself, and with a serious look in his eyes he replied, “To Pogtopia.”

---

Through a hidden door and down a spiral staircase, Quackity entered Pogtopia for the first time. Beams, bridges, and lanterns decorated the ravine, giving the place an industrial feel. A few rooms were mined out of the stone walls. It wasn’t exactly what Quackity expected their base to be, and yet it seemed like a fitting home for a (literally) underground group of rebels.

No one else was in the center of the ravine at the moment, so Tommy called out, “Niki! I need some help here!”

Niki exited from one of the various rooms a few seconds later. “What is Tom-” she started, but then cut herself off with a loud gasp. “Oh my goodness!” she exclaimed, immediately sprinting towards the stairs.

She soon climbed up and reached the two boys. “What happened?” she asked, worry seeping into her voice.

“We’ll explain soon, just help me get him down first,” Tommy replied. Niki quietly nodded. She took Quackity’s other arm, and the two of them slowly helped him down the stairs.

Once on solid ground, Niki let go of Quackity and went ahead into the room she came out of earlier. Tommy and Quackity soon followed suit. The room seemed fairly new; on the right was an empty bed and on the left was… Tubbo. He was all bandaged up and sleeping soundly in another bed. A different kind of pain panged in Quackity’s chest, but he was also relieved that Tubbo was alright.

Carefully, Tommy helped Quackity onto the free bed. Niki soon came back over, bandages in hand. Tommy stepped back and propped himself up against the wall to let Niki start tending to Quackity. Gently, she removed his now-bloody shirt, then started wrapping the bandages around his chest.

Quackity had mostly been looking down at the ground since he entered Pogtopia, but he now decided to tilt his head up to look Niki in the eyes. In response, she gave him a small but warm smile. “The wound isn’t too deep, you’re gonna be fine,” she said softly.

Quackity was dumbfounded. Just the other day, she had been glaring daggers at him and Schlatt as she wailed and screamed over Tubbo’s supposed death. And yet here she was, smiling at him while she bandaged him up. Did she just pity him? Or did she sense his discomfort on that stage and the anger that still loomed around him from his fight with Schlatt?

His thoughts, however, were cut short when a voice from the entrance of the room yelled, “Wh- Quackity!?”

The three of them all turned to face the owner of the voice. Wilbur stood in the doorway, confusion spread across his face. “Why is he here?” he demanded.

Tommy pushed himself off the wall and quickly took a few steps forward. “Wilbur let me explain, he-”

“Tommy,” Wilbur interrupted, “Tommy I know that he brought Tubbo back to you, but that doesn’t mean that you can let him into our base! What if- he could’ve just done that to trick you into trusting him!”

“Wilbur, please calm down,” Niki said hurriedly.

“No,” he replied sternly, “He’s literally the vice president, we can’t let him be here!”

Tommy took a few more steps forward, balling his fists. “Yeah, and Schlatt literally just tried to murder him! There’s no way we're throwing him out now!”

A heavy silence fell over the room. Niki put a hand over her mouth and Wilbur stared at Quackity with wide eyes, perhaps only now registering the fresh bandages on his chest.

Wilbur let out a long sigh, running a hand through his hair, then looked back up at Tommy. “Explain everything that happened, in detail,” he ordered.

Tommy nodded and explained what he saw as quickly as he could. Quackity listened in silence, occasionally nodding to confirm what Tommy was saying. Once he was done, Tommy looked directly at Wilbur. “Do you understand why I brought him here now?”

“...I do,” Wilbur sighed, “But it still wasn’t the best idea to bring him here. Just because he’s not with Schlatt anymore doesn’t mean that he’ll be on our side now.”

Tommy turned back to face Quackity. “Well, we should probably get that info from the big man himself.”

All eyes were on him now. Quackity took a moment to collect his thoughts, then responded, “Schlatt is a dick. I made that deal with him ‘cause I thought he would be a better president, but boy was I wrong,” he chuckled darkly. “He constantly undermined me and never listened to a fucking word I said. He’s gone completely power crazy! I… I wanna overthrow him. I wanna overthrow Schlatt and take power back.”

A big grin formed on Tommy’s face. Conversely, Wilbur walked up to Quackity with a complex mix of emotions on his face. “So, you want to join us?” he questioned.

“...Yes. I’ll join Pogtopia,” Quackity declared.

Despite just gaining an ally, the expression on Wilbur’s face did not change. “Very well,” he muttered, then walked back to the entrance of the room. He mumbled something else under his breath, then disappeared from sight.

Well, that was certainly odd. Quackity glanced at Tommy and Niki, who both looked worried. “Er…,” Tommy hesitated, “Don’t mind him. He… hasn’t exactly been in the best state of mind since we got exiled. If he does anything weird, just stick with me, okay?”

Quackity nodded quietly. “Anyway!” Tommy said, bouncing back from the tense atmosphere, “Welcome to the gang Big Q! If you’re feeling up to it tomorrow, I’ll show you around the place.”

“Tomorrow may still be a bit too soon,” Niki interjected worriedly.

“Well then I’ll give you the tour in two days!” Tommy affirmed.

Niki sighed, but Quackity couldn’t help but chuckle at Tommy’s enthusiasm. There was a heaviness that hung over the ravine, but compared to Manburg, he could tell that the people here actually had the drive to do something. It gave him a sense of hope that things may actually get better. Maybe, just maybe.

He looked at Tommy with a grin on his face. “I’ll look forward to it.”

---

Tubbo, who had woken up when Wilbur started yelling, smiled to himself. Maybe Quackity isn’t all that bad, he thought as he drifted back to sleep.

Techno, who had heard the yelling from his farm, decided that he didn’t have time to get involved in any character arcs right now and simply continued to tend to his beloved potatoes.

[heresathreebee]

Garrote part 9

[Starz Power Diego Jimenez x Jazmine Mann (Black!OC)]

Word count: 3k words

Warning(s): Explicit (+18) | sibling angst, mention of past drug use, roleplay sex!, UNPROTECTED sex (wrap your willy before you get silly), clothed sex, dirty talk, oh uh minor voyeurism. Previous Masterlist Next

AN: No beta, all mistakes are my own. Why is it so goddamn difficult to apply gifs to a post. I promise I’ll sort the masterlist tonight! Also tags will be moved to the bottom under the cut. Let me know if you’d like to be added

Gif creator @padfootwantsatummyrub​ thank you!

Alicia agreed to meet him that same night, and he tried to be presentable, and though he couldn't hide the alcohol on his breath, he was miraculously clean. That was thanks to the girls, of course, he hadn't had a second to snort coke with all their attention and literal begging. His sister was out on a job– Healy had given them the name of the low level thug who stole Porsche. Kennedy belonged to Jason Micic's organization, but Alicia discovered the boy usually did his own jobs. Diego met her just a few miles from his place and watched her work. His presence seemed to make Jason's Right Hand man nervous. 

"Look miss," he had been calling her 'lady' sarcastically before he noticed Diego lurking around in the shadows, "I hear what you're saying and I promise we're gonna fix it. By this time tomorrow, nobody's ever gonna know that kid's name." 

"Good." Alicia took a drag from her cigarette and held out a hand. The man reached out to shake it, but she snatched his wrist and put the cherry out on his forearm. He screamed, lurching his arm out of her grasp and gaining a few claw marks in the process. "Make sure it never happens again, claro?" 

They left him cradling his arm and stalked over to the alleyway of a greasy midnight diner. Diego held the door open for her, instructing her guard with a look to wait outside (his guard did the same). Alicia picked a booth in the back and ordered whiskey and fries– the very mention of which made Diego's stomach growl. 

"What do you want, Diego?" Alicia was stoic, already a note of disappointment fell from her voice as if she expected something childish. 

He took a deep breath to collect himself. 

"I'm sorry, sister," he said. She raised an eyebrow, but he continued, "I've been reckless and stupid and I almost got us caught because of it. You said those fucking pigs wouldn't have had anything on us except for my gun, and I can't let that happen again. So until we cross the border… no more coke." 

Alicia was, understandably, surprised. "No more coke? You think you can handle that, Diego?" 

His eyes were hard as stone– determined. "For us? Yes." 

His sister relaxed into the red cushions of the booth. Her eyes searched his– for mockery, for tricks, for falsehoods– until her jaw tightened and some raw expression flashed that Diego didn't know how to read. 

"On our mother's grave," he vowed. The trust Alicia was giving him now could not be squandered. It filled him with determination and a desire to be redeemed in her head. On our mother's grave. 

She hugged him. After sitting in perfect, tense silence while he ate all the fries and took a sip of her whiskey, as they were walking back out the door, she hugged him. He felt like a kid again. He felt like he had when their mother had passed away. Those were the only times she had hugged her brother, and it left him feeling raw and exposed like a nerve ending. His head drifted as he drove home and he swiped a tear from his cheek. 

I can do this, he decided. For us. 

It was nearly dawn by the time he got back to the penthouse. The cityscape was always bright at night, but there were a few precious hours in the evening and the morning when enough lights went out that made the city feel truly peaceful. Diego slipped into bed, barely managing to kick off his shoes before falling asleep watching the flurries of driven snow fly past his window. 

~

Someone was jiggling the doorknob. Diego had just enough strength to turn his head and look at the clock to read the time was 5:40 AM. The door to his bedroom opened violently as someone fell in. He lifted his head groggily and recognized the pretty kitten heels hanging from the brown arm with a death grip on the door knob. Jazmine pulled herself up with great difficulty, swaying on her feet like a drunk and slowly maneuvering the door to close behind her. Her half lidded eyes landed on Diego and she smiled. 

"Hey." She sounded hoarse and slurred. "I didn't think you'd actually be here…" 

Diego groaned and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, trying to sit up just a bit. "You asked me to be here. What do you want?" 

Something like sickness flashed over her face but only for a second. Her brow smoothed with determination and she sauntered with purpose to the side of his bed. Jazmine pulled his hair lightly and elicited a grunt from him. 

"I saw Haagen last night," she sighed. "When I left, I got a cab and got drunk and… well, here I am." 

Diego had a hard time focusing on her words, what with the gentle petting of his hair causing distraction, but he understood the unspoken story hidden between the lines. He rested a hand on top of her thigh and felt her twitch under his touch but not away from it. 

"If you're not too tired…" Her soft hand slid down, down, down. Stroking over the side of his neck and the open collar of his shirt, caressing his chest and pressing into the plain of his stomach until it mirrored his own touch on her thigh. She even gave him a squeeze which caused him to twitch as she had. "I could use a nice massage." 

Diego felt himself smirk involuntarily. She had his blood pumping now and pushing out the grogginess of a near sleepless night. He squeezed her back in answer but made no move to sit up or do anything else. 

On Jazmine's part, she couldn't take her eyes off of the man. There was something about the calmness and the plain white shirt that made him seem altogether a different man. He didn't look like a drug lord right now– he looked like somebody's husband. Maybe even somebody's dad. She could put that thought to good use…

"You like roleplaying, Diego?" His eyes had drifted shut but one opened curiously. "I can start." 

"Every girl likes doctor and nurse," he mumbled almost to himself. 

Jazmine shook her head. "I've got something else in mind." 

She stood up and tossed her shoes to the side. Only as she was taking it off did Diego notice she was wearing a t-shirt over her dress (in his defense, they were the same color). What she wore beneath was modest, something she could pass off in a church, which was a far cry from the little number she had worn to the club. Jazmine started her story by removing his belt with an agonizingly slow pace. 

"You," she said, tapping the buckle, "are a 9 to 5 office jockey who loves his parents and makes a decent living wage." 

"So sexy," he drawled sarcastically. 

"And I–" she ripped the belt from the loops of his pants eagerly and in one motion, "– am your wife." 

Diego's voice dropped. "Keep going." 

"I take care of the kids and our three story suburban house." She unbuttoned his pants with one hand, struggling and constantly bumping into his junk just to drive him crazy. "And we're so busy with everything we haven't had time to ourselves since our second kid. But guess what?" 

The button finally popping forced air out of Diego's lung, and he pulled his pants down himself as he became impatient. Jazmine was intent on keeping control and straddled his hips with force. His hands found their way up her skirt with ease and he fingered the strap of her panties as he waited for the other shoe to drop. "It's their first day of kindergarten." 

Diego's lust addled brain took a second to catch up. It was harder to do with her warm core putting pressure on his hardening cock, but he managed, and when he did he cocked an eyebrow at her. "Are you saying we haven't had sex in five years?" 

Jazmine hummed. She ground down on his hips, and he couldn't help but buck into her, feeling rock hard and ready. The woman slipped into her role like she was born to it, donning a face of longing with just a pouting lip. 

"I've missed you so much, baby..." 

God, he could not wait to get naked– this would just have to do. Diego sat up until he was chest to chest with 'his wife' and slipped his hands into his boxers to free his cock from its confines. Jazmine wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held onto him for dear life as he pushed her panties to the side and slipped a finger in. 

"So wet, baby," he groaned, "estas listo?" 

American girls loved hearing his Spanish and Jazmine was no different judging by the way she shuddered. He had to do everything by feeling since she refused to let go of him. She slid onto his cock like she belonged there, and although it was truthfully the first time, it felt like the first in a long time. 

Jazmine gasped when he finally bottomed out. Without a condom, she could feel every single vein and ridge of his thick length wedged into her pussy, and just the slightest movement caused the greatest sensations. Diego's warm breath fanned over her chest and she wished she could reach the zipper on the back of the dress to offer her nipples to him. He was content, it seemed, to try and taste them from the outside, and she squeezed his cock as a reward. 

"Oh fuck me." 

It wasn't meant as a request but Diego obliged her nonetheless. He gripped the soft curves between her hips and her waist and used them to bounce her in his lap, not too fast and not too deep, limited by the position but also like he wanted to keep her close to him. His watering mouth soaked through her dress and her lacy bra and when he pulled away to attack the other it left the last cold. 

The sweet burn of Diego's ministrations allowed Haagen's to wash away like footprints on a sandy beach. All that mattered now was Diego, and the unexpectedly tender way he fucked her like she really was the mother of his children. It made her ache where it shouldn't have, deep in her chest, but she didn't fight it and soon the tightening coil in her core won over her attention. 

Diego moaned with his mouth still on her and Jazmine keened in response, wrapping her fingers in his hair and dragging his head up to look at her. His pupils were blown wide but the light from the window still illuminated the deep brown ring of his eyes in a way that was so hypnotic she couldn't look away. 

His lip curled (of course) and the unhinged mischief of his former self shone through. "Want another..." 

She couldn't tell if it was a question for her or a statement from him. He kept her bouncing on his cock as his eyes drifted down to her mouth and back up again. Every time she came down it was harder and deeper than before as she let her whole weight crash into him. "Put another baby in you, huh, muñeca? Make it three…" 

That should not have been as hot as it was. Jazmine whined involuntarily and put both of her hands on his chest to push him onto his back, stalling their impeccable rhythm for a second as she basked in how deep his dick really went. 

He could do it. For real– his cock was naked in her pussy and he had the length to do it better than most. Oh fuck, it's curved, she thought, wishing she was fucking him the other way around. Can't stop now. Can't wait. 

Jazmine began to ride Diego and listened to all the filthy things that fell from his lips. No wonder I married you. 

"Yeah, querida? You like this dick? Want me to cum inside and paint a pretty picture?" 

"Yesss," she hissed. "Oh god. Fuck…" 

"That's it, mama, keep fucking yourself. Don't need my help, do you? Got it all figured out. Put a baby in you and watch you grow again…" 

Jazmine gasped, she was so close, hanging right on the edge. "Fuck, daddy…" 

She didn't even know she'd said the magic word, but the pair came together, and hard. Diego's grip on her waist was bruising and merciless, he filled her up with all he had and then some, and just to make it extraordinary, he made her hips grind into him for good measure. Jazmine's mouth dropped low and saliva dribbled out and dripped into his shirt, her hands tearing a button off as her pussy clenched down on his pulsating cock for a true flood. She was seeing stars when the torrent of endorphins finally drew back, and she collapsed onto his chest, boneless and gasping for air. 

When their breathing had finally slowed down, Jazmine moved just enough of her weight to make them both comfortable without adding distance– for her sake as much as his. There was sweat cooling in the small of her back, Diego’s chest rose and fell beneath her head, and the memory of Haagen faded away like static on a television set. 

“So,” Diego hummed, “I take it that was a bit of a fantasy of yours, eh?” 

Jazmine’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean? Three kids, a house, and a spouse?” She thought about it for a moment and shrugged, “doesn’t everyone, in their own way?” 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” 

"I will admit it was probably most definitely brought on by this," she plucked at his white shirt, smirking with pride at the missing button and pocketing it in her drenched bra. "You look like… well I don't know exactly but this shirt screams normal and I figured you couldn't possibly own something like that." 

Diego hummed but offered no explanation for the unusual attire. He could probably go incognito through a crowd and never be seen with that thing. Now uncomfortable, Jazmine sat up and flung off her dress, admiring the red handprints on her sides. She lay back down into his embrace and chuckled. 

"What?" 

She started drawing circles on his chest with a finger. “I wasn’t sure you could get off without, you know, an audience.” 

Diego shrugged his shoulders (jostling her head in the process) and she could hear the smile in his voice when he said, “of course I can come without an audience. It’s a preference, not a medical condition.” 

“Oh right, sure. Sure.” The warm hand on her back began to slide, tracing up her sides and just short of cupping her face, she felt his fingers graze her earlobe. A groan of irritation ripped through her throat. “I guess you did get an audience after all.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean exactly?” 

Jazmine took her sweet time answering him as she rolled up and over top of him to get to the other side of the bed and to touch the room light remote on the nightstand. Now brighter in the slick black design of Diego’s bedroom, she leaned over him on her elbow and pointed. 

Directly at her fake hearing aid. 

Diego stared for a moment before his cheeks puffed and he blew a raspberry trying to hold his laugh. It exploded from his chest like a bark and his entire body curled into it, which in turn warmed Jazmine to join in. For as cool and unbothered as Agent Healy portrayed himself, there was no way he could have been able to ignore the sounds on the other end of the listening device by the sheer volume of the activities on the receiver. 

Ever the exhibitionist, Jazmine was not surprised to find Diego’s hand pressing into the back of her neck to draw her closer. She rolled her eyes when he leaned forward to speak directly into the microphone, “like what you heard, Healy?” 

The answer came in an instant. Just as Jazmine was debating whether to settle back into the bed or to get up, Diego’s phone rang. The man was having far too much fun as he pushed her under him and reached for the nightstand even though she was closer. His knee fell between her sensitive thighs as he checked the screen. Despite everything, he still looks at her with disbelief as Healy’s contact glares back at him. 

Healy’s voice sounded somehow right coming from a speaker. It matched the sometimes robotic way he delivered them lines about his purpose or his plan. “Yes, Mr. Jimenez, I am always on the edge of my seat when you make a pass at my informant.” 

The expression only flashes for a second across his face, but for a moment Diego looked as uncomfortable as Jazmine felt. It was strange, knowing the name and the face of the person who was surveilling you. Knowing they hear everything all of the time and forgetting, only to remember and wonder if you’ve done something to warrant the shame and embarrassment that floods through you upon recollection. Jazmine was more often than not completely unaware of the thing until it beeped its death notes. She would have to remember to set a schedule for charging it every night, as Healy had suggested before. 

“It’s fascinating the things people get up to when they think they’re alone,” Healy continued, “but if it is any consolation to you, Miss. Mann, I am accustomed to turning a blind eye– or ear, I suppose– to your nonessential activities.” 

Well at least that was something. Diego hung up (or Healy did, she wasn’t paying attention), then turned to look her in the eye with a mischievous glint. 

“What?” 

“Jazz Mann.” 

“Shut the– I’m going to fucking strangle you.”

~~~~~

Alrighty, I think this was pretty successful! But know that it’s all downhill from here (OK, mostly downhill from here). 

@1zashreena1​ @kid-from-new-zealand​ @nicke0115​ @girlpornparadise​ @mental-bycatch​ 

[julemmaes]

Pas des crêpes // part one

James Herondale and Cordelia Carstairs modern au

Boooy I’m so excited to write this short story, I can't wait to write Matthew and Lucie’s part, it'll probably be the longest part. Anyway, enojy this corner of paradise cause I have yet to decide if they’re all gonna be fluffy or if I’m gonna put some angst in the thomastair one (cause I can’t help myself).

Word count: 4,766

The epic music was coming out of the speakers at such a high volume that Cordelia wondered how they were still on good terms with their neighbors. As the credits ran down the screen, she heard someone stand up on the other side of the couch and then the lights went on.

Thomas, sitting at the foot of the armchair Alastair sat on, grunted and Cordelia found herself blinking, trying to get used to the light. One hand landed on her knee and she turned to James, covering her mouth with one hand while yawning. Her boyfriend smiled at her with slightly red eyes because of the last three hours spent watching TV and was going to ask her if she wanted him to kick everyone one so she could sleep peacefully, she knew it, he asked her every week when it was movie night, but he was beaten to the punch by someone else.

“Guys?” Matthew asked, who was lying on James’ other side. He had not moved since the beginning of the film and Cordelia seriously thought he was dead, and after he had spoken she was still not so sure of his physical state because it seemed that he had just swallowed a lemon from how hoarse his voice sounded. Lucie, who looked just as puzzled as her and was sitting on the carpet in front of them, turned to look at him and, seeming amused, she giggled, “Oh, my God, were you crying?” she asked stunned, but with a playful tone.

All the heads snapped in his direction and Christopher was about to comment, the grin on his lips the only sign that it wouldn’t be nice for the boy, when James put his arm around Matthew, completely forgetting Cordelia, who nearly fell to the side to the sudden lack next to her. “ Don’t you dare insult him. Math has every right to cry over this movie. It’s tragic.” He said in a threatening tone, daring anyone to open their mouth.

Matthew shook him off and with a pout that would have made envy to a five-year-old child he murmured, “I wasn’t crying.”

Lucie completely ignored him, leaning his chin on his brother’s leg, stretching an arm and pricking him with a finger on his chest. “ You don’t want us to make fun of him, because you were crying, too.”

Cordelia restrained a laugh, looking at the expression of pure bafflement on the boy’s face. It was true, James cried for almost everything they watched, whether it was a cartoon, a tv series or a documentary about how basketball balls are made. “ How dare you?” he brought a hand to his chest, pretending to be shocked, “Me? Crying for a movie? Never.” he said shaking his head as an evil grin appeared on his face, very similar to the one Christopher wore a few seconds earlier, “The only softie here is Matthew.”

“Softie?” Thomas asked laughing, “What, you cry for movies and you’re eighty now?”

Lucie burst into laughter and sat on her knees, crawling towards Tom, leaning against Alastair’s other leg, who watched them all very quietly but had a big smile on his face. Cordelia exchanged an amused look with his brother, who rolled his eyes, knowing full well how it would end.

“For real, Jamie, who still uses softie?” asked her sister, ready to shoot the next arrow, “I would have used things like wimp.”

“Or pussy.” retorted Thomas, always laughing.

“Whiner would have been fine too.” Christopher stepped in and stood up to turn off the television.

“Wussy?” Alastair asked, trying to get involved. Thomas turned to look at him and Alastair’s smile grew even more, until he turned into an even more childish pout than Matthew’s when his boyfriend answered him, “No, too simple.”

“And pussy that is literally the word from which it comes is not?” asked Alastair in a huff, receiving as a response a simple hit on the knee from Lucie.

Cordelia stood up, having an epiphany, “Mollycoddle!?”

“Mollycoddle!” they all screamed together and then burst out laughing. James and Matthew were sitting on the couch, arms crossed on their chests and heads hidden between the shoulders. Both had an expression of deep sorrow.

Cordelia laughed louder, when James looked directly at her and tried to look even more upset by arching his eyebrows and almost completely hiding his eyes.

When everyone sighed and wiped their tears, they were all looking at each other, hoping someone would propose what to do. When the silence in the room became too long, Lucie and Cordelia looked at each other again and it didn’t take long before they burst into a fit of laughters again, bend in two.

“When you two are done being bitches,” said Matthew, putting his hands on his knees, a general uuh rose from the room. “Then maybe we could go get something to eat, because I’ve been starving since the beginning of the second part.”

“You mean before or after you started crying?” Christopher asked him with a strange twinkle in his eyes. Cordelia carried one hand to her mouth, blocking it with the other, to prevent herself from laughing again, fearing she would choke. A warm hand landed on her back and turned just in time to smash her lips against James’s. She broke off almost immediately, not wanting to embarrass anyone, but at least the smile was back on his face. She was used to the touches and the small displays of affection from him when they were with their friends, but kissing was more rare, especially when Lucie and Alastair were present and they never failed to make them notice.

She lost herself for a few seconds in that amber look, before returning to  the conversation– more like the quarrel– between Lucie and Matthew.

“If I wasn’t so hungry, I’d spill all the noodles on your head.” he was telling her.

“Ah yes? Can you even cook them?” she answered him sticking her tongue out. Matthew shook his head, wrinkling his eyebrows, “Yes, you dumbass, everyone knows how to make noodles.”

“Too bad though, that we ate the last portion last night and that there is nothing in the fridge.” said James scratching the back of his neck. Matthew let himself fall back on the couch, making an exasperated sound, “Jeez, this is the worst day of my life.”

“We could always go to the grocery store at the end of the road and come back here for a noodle party.” proposed Chrisopher, always with that strange glimmer in his eyes. Cordelia raised an eyebrow, curious to know what was making her friend so cheerful. Not that he wasn’t happy normally, but that pompous behavior was different than usual. He seemed more relaxed. She shrugged, she would have thought about asking him what was going on in his life tomorrow.

“Or, you could go back to the holes you crawled out of and let me and my beautiful lady here take our-” he stopped himself eyeing the clock on the wall, grumbling before continuing with whiny voice, “Four hours of beauty sleep before we have to wake up for work.” He looked at her hopefully, and she nodded smiling sweetly at him.

He heard Lucie snort and Matthew snapped up, “I can’t believe you’ve become such a softie.” said the boy while a grimace of disgust appeared on his lips. “Bros before hoes, Jamie. Bros before hoes. It’s that simple.”

Cordelia saw Alastair shaking his head amused and Thomas getting up, giving a hand to his boyfriend and the other to Lucie to help them stand up. They both accepted and nearly all three of them fell back when Thomas put too much effort into raising them. They were all too tired lately, maybe they should have taken a break from everything and go on a short holiday.

In the meantime, James was smacking Matthew over the head, telling him to stop being such an idiot.

“Come on, Math, I’ll buy you all the noodles you want.” Christopher said, offering him an arm. Matthew sighed resigned, interwining his arm with that of his friend and leaning his head on his shoulder, “Now that you and Grace have become serious, you will leave me too.”

Cordelia’s head snapped to Lucie’s direction, and when she saw that her friend was also shocked, she realized she wasn’t the only one who didn’t know what they were talking about. She turned to Christopher, clearing her throat, “Kit?” she called drawing everyone’s attention to her. She opened her arms, putting on a lost face, “What the hell are you talking about? When did this happen? Why didn’t you tell us?” she said gesturing with one finger between her and the only other girl in the room, who with just as much disappointment said, “Yeah, when were you going to tell us?”

A sound very similar to the cry of a dog whose tail had just been stepped on left Christopher’s mouth, which turning red scratched his chin, looking thoughtful. Finally met the look of the two girls, “Tomorrow?” He hesitated, implying that he had never thought to speak to either of them the next day.

“I can’t believe it, you’re telling me everything.” Lucie said covering the distance between her and the young Lightwood in a few seconds and taking him arm in arm on the free side. She looked over her shoulder at Cordelia, who was now amazed, even more shocked that she wouldn’t be part of that gossip session so juicy that the idea of sending her nap with James to hell was starting to form in her head. She was going to tell her friends that they couldn’t talk about it without her, when someone hugged her from behind and her boyfriend’s familiar smell filled her nostrils. She calmed down visibly, but was still shocked by the news. Grace. With Christopher.

“Don’t think you dodged a bullet, Kit. I’ll stop by your office tomorrow for lunch and you’ll tell me all about it.” Cordelia said. A tone that left no room for reruns. “Actually, I’m supposed to be with Grace at lunch tomorrow, so…” he left the sentence unfinished, apologizing with his eyes. They all turned to the door when they heard someone sighing dramatically and Matthew appeared from behind the wall, wearing his jacket and passing Lucie’s coat to her. She gave him a grateful smile, but looked away quickly, as if she were embarrassed.

Interesting. Cordelia should have talked to Lucie as well.

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about.” Math said in a more dramatic tone than was necessary, “You are teaming up against me and finding love under rocks, as if it’s nothing, while I,” he brought a hand to his heart, holding the fabric of the jacket between his fingers, as to suggest how much this thing hurt him, “I’m alone. And I will never find my soul mate. Or eternal love.” He concluded by gasping, closing his eyes to amplify the whole. Cordelia heard James giggling with his nose buried in her hair, but she barely noticed.

She noticed, however, the color that lit up Lucie’s cheeks. Yes, definitely, she should have talked to her as soon as possible.

“Cut it and get out of this house.” Thomas said, passing by hi, to reach the coat rack and start dressing up.

The others imitated him and after several hugs and kisses and promises to talk about secret loves, James and Cordelia found themselves alone in their apartment and drew a breath of relief. The house was so quiet without their friends, but she did not mind, that calm peace…

“As much as I love them, I don’t mind this silence."Jamie whispered in her ear. She smiled, turning in his arms and holding both hands up to cup his face, "I was thinking exactly the same thing.” He smiled kindly at her and the weariness in his eyes made her melt. He was so cute when he was tired. She pulled hersel up, pushing her body against his, and then they were kissing. It was a slow kiss and not at all rough. He was stroking her hair and her hands slipped around his neck. He moaned in the kiss and when she parted her lips to let him in, their tongues clashed.

That was them. James and Cordelia. Two bodies in tune with each other. It was James who broke the kiss, but only because Cordelia’s stomach growled so loudly that he was forced to pull away in order not to laugh in her mouth. He looked at her amused, “Do you want me to call the others and ask them to bring us noodles? I’m sure Matthew would threaten to commit suicide, but I don’t think they’d let you starve.” Cordelia giggled thinking of a desperate Matthew staggering around saying he had become the slave of the group. She shook her head, pressing her forehead on his chest, “No thanks, I’d rather eat something else.” she whispered. “Plus, I want to spend some alone time with you, it’s been a long time since we spent a night together. Just the two of us.” she concluded glaring up at him.

“All right.” he laid a quick kiss on her lips, before breaking away from the hug. “What do you want to eat?” He asked her on his way to the kitchen.

Cordelia brought a finger to her lips, thinking, “I don’t know.” “How about cookies?” James asked, stopping without any notice, making her slam against his back.

“I don’t think Mr and Mrs Shaw can handle any more noise tonight,” she said, passing him, tapping on the phone to look at the time. 2:56 a.m. She opened her eyes wide, man, it’s late. She looked at James, thinking of suggesting him to go straight to bed. She would eat at breakfast tomorrow morning. But as soon as her eyes landed on the boy’s body in front of her, her mouth dried up. James was reaching for the flour on the top shelf, and the visible part of skin under his shirt blocked the words in her throat. He turned and noticing her look slowly moving from his behind to his face, he put on a smug little smile, “Seeing something you like?”

She shook her head just as smugly, “I’d say so.” James’ eyes shone with a new light. The grin never leaving his face.

That joke exchange took place at least once a day in the Herondale-Carstairs house. Normally in the morning, when they were getting ready together to go to work and ended up wasting time in more interesting activities. The presumptuous air on both faces fell as fast as it had appeared.

“How about making your famous crêpes? I haven’t eaten them in a while and I’m josening.” He proposed taking the other ingredients from the fridge. Another yawn took over and Cordelia imagined herself already wrapped in the blankets, warm… “Or maybe not. Do you want to sleep, Daisy?” He asked her by laying the eggs on the table and approaching her, worry imprinted on his face, moving a rebel strand from her face and pinnin it behind her ear.

She melted in his hand, closing her eyes and savoring his touch “Mh-mh. Pas des crêpes pour toi.” she said to him in French, smiling. No crêpes for you.

She heard James laugh, and then his hand was no longer on her cheek, and he was moving around the kitchen again, putting back everything he had needlessly took out.

“Go put your pajamas on, and I’ll be right behind you,” he said with his back towards her and opening a shelf at the bottom. She nodded, dragging her feet on the ground and heading for their bedroom. She didn’t even realize she was going to go into the bathroom to take his make up off.

It had been a really long day and she just wanted to sleep, but she also wanted to talk to James, to know what happened today, to ask him about Christopher and Grace… and maybe mention Lucie and Matthew, see if he knew anything.

Suddenly she felt less tired, like when you go to a sleepover as a child and the only thing that keeps you awake is the desire to know everything, everything, everything.

She slipped under the covers, on James’ side, so that when he came to bed his side would already be warm, and closed her eyes for a second trying to rest in the time she was waiting for him to join her.

She felt a hand touch her cheek, “Daisy?” opening only one eye, she was embarrassed to see that she had fallen asleep. She got up on an elbow, about to apologize, when she saw that James was holding a tray with two steaming cups of hot chocolate on it and a yogurt muffin (rigorously prepackaged). She looked at her boyfriend and the emotion squeezed her throat, he was looking at her with so much love in his eyes. And the smile he was giving her never failed to swell her heart every time.

“Thank you.” she managed to get out despite everything. She wasn’t as emotional as she normally was, but on that day, she was completely exhausted and he must have noticed, because it wasn’t something he did so often. He had done it two or three times when they had just started dating, but then he had stopped and Cordelia had believed that he had finally woken up and realized that she was not worth all that effort. Clearly, she was wrong.

He waved her to move and when she was in her half of the bed, he laid the tray next to her and sat cross-legged, holding his cup up. He blew into it, looking at her from above the rim of the cup and took two long sips. She was still staring at him incredulous.

“I know you’re tired, and you just want to pass out so you don’t ever wake up again, but you didn’t have lunch today, and before the others showed up, you barely pinched a sandwich.” He told her by putting down the cup and passing her the muffin. She accepted it reluctantly. So Ihe had heard her when she came home and ran into the bathroom to take a shower while she screamed that she was starving.

She twisted the muffin in her hands. She gave it a little bite and then a bigger one and then another, until she finished it and her stomach thanked her and took the chocolate, tasting every sip. When they had finished everything, James took the tray and brought it to the kitchen, coming back shortly after with a dazzling smile on his face.

He threw himself on the bed next to her, bouncing and laughing, getting as close as he could and taking her in her arms, kissing her hair and waiting for Cordelia to settle down with an arm around his chest and her head on his shoulder, “So, what did you do today?”

“I don’t want to talk about my job, I want to know about Kit.” she said, leaning her chin on his shoulder and looking him in the eye. He looked at her in turn with an unreadable expression on his face, then sighed, “Okay.”

“A while back, we found her at the gym. She came over to say hi to me, but then I had to go away and she stayed to chat with Kit and one thing must have pulled the other ‘cause four days ago he came to the tavern and told us that they had gone on a date. Three times, if iI gotta be honest.” He said everything out of breath, turned around to see her reaction, thinking he’d find her at least a little annoyed by the fact that he hadn’t told her he’d met Grace, but Cordelia was looking at him like a child watching their favorite cartoon. He raised an eyebrow as a sign of question.

“And then?” she asked him curious.

“And then, what?”

“What did they do, where did they go. Whether he asked her out or she. I want the details James.” she said, giving him a little bump on the chest, then squinting at him and lowering the tone of her voice, “If it bothers you that they’re dating.”

“No, it doesn’t bother me. Grace and I have our history, it’s true, but Kit is really happy and she seems to be too, from what little he told us.” he said without changing his voice, “And anyway, I have you.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “However, I don’t have the details.” he said, stroking her arms. It was amazing how he couldn’t get his hands off her, it was like there was a greater force pushing him and he couldn’t fight it. “You’ll have to wait for Christopher for those. O Lucie. She seemed very inclined to extort every little thing from him.” Cordelia pulled herself up slightly.

Given that the subject was introduced by him, “About Lucie,” she said.

James put his head on the headboard, “What about my sister?”

“Didn’t you see how she and Matthew look at each other?” she asked getting to the point. For a moment, a shadow seemed to pass over James, but it left so quickly that Cordelia thought she had imagined it.

“How do they look at each other?” he asked her without even looking her way. “I don’t know, it seems to me that there might be something between those two. They’re not telling us everything.” she moved away from the hug, staring at the ceiling. James did not answer her immediately. In fact, he didn’t answer her at all and she thought that maybe he was tired too and must have fallen asleep, but when he turned around to check on her boyfriend, he was standing there looking at the wall. A deep frown in his face.

She touched his forearm with her fingertips, and he jumped, as if awakened by a trance, “Everything’s alright?” she asked him worried, “I didn’t mean to imply anything, if it bothers you to talk about your sister and Math we can change the subject, or not talk at all.” Cordelia thought she had gone too far. Maybe she had touched a sore point, something he didn’t want to think about.

James must have sensed that change in her tone, because he turned to her, shaking his head, “No, it’s not that. It’s just that I’m worried. For Matthew.” he sighed. Cordelia waited for him to continue, not wanting to force him to share anything that he didn’t want.

“Sometimes I think he’s really joking when he says all that stuff about love, that he’s gonna be alone forever, but then I find him watching your brother and Tom or Anna and Ari. Or us. And he is… he seems so miserably sad. And maybe Lucie is not the best person he can have beside him.” he turned to look at her and Cordelia was taken aback when he saw his eyes shining with tears. She pulled herself closer to him and now their legs were touching, intertwining. “Not that my sister isn’t a good person, I just don’t think she’s right for him.”

“I don’t think Matthew is serious when he says those things. Not as often as you seem to think at least.” She said, brushing his cheek to calm him down. “And maybe Lucie is exactly what he needs right now.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because lately, Lucie’s been telling me how this whole growing-couple thing in the group is starting to weigh on her. And with Anna finally together with Ariadne…” she left the sentence unfinished. James looked at her, surprised to hear such a thing. “Maybe if they really like each other, they might try to go out sometime, see where this thing takes them.” She proposed, trying to understand how the idea made him feel.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” he replied, carelessly passing a hand through her hair, untying her long locks.

“Of course, I’m always right.” she said proudly, stretching her neck to kiss him. James closed his eyes, breathing in that touch, thinking of all the times when, while he had been with Grace, he had looked at Cordelia from afar, wondering what her hair smelled like or whether he would ever be able to hold her hand in a situation other than those in which she was forced because they had to ‘Ring Around the Rosie’ with Alexander.

“What are you thinking of?” she bit on his lips.

“Back when I was with Grace.” he said. Cordelia immediately detached from that kiss, with an expression between confused, amused and ‘you’re joking right?’. She sat up and crossed her arms.

“Wow.” she said laughing, “And here I thought you were thinking about how much you love me and how beautiful I am.”

“No, Daisy, not like that.” James reached out and grabbed her wrist and pulled her towards him, “I was thinking about when I struggled to be with you, but I couldn’t do anything because I had to stay with Grace.” he said, moving her so that she lay on his body, interlacing their legs together once more. Now they were chest to chest, and Cordelia felt every point where her body touched his.

“You didn’t have to do anything, James.” she said with muffled voice, looking at him from under her eyelashes with her chin resting against his chest. His hands began to move slowly on her back, drawing circles under her shirt. “That relationship was born only because of the circumstances Grace was in before. It wasn’t true love, as you always say. She didn’t really love you either, it was just childish affection growing with the fact that you were her only friend. That’s it.”

James opened his mouth to reply, but Cordelia’s fingers landed on his lips, “Stop it. I know what you’re thinking, ‘Oh no Daisy but I’ve been so bad, I left her when she needed me the most, I’m a horrible person, boohoo’, no Jamie. You knew it wasn’t right to keep lying to her, and she knew it too.” she concluded, moving her finger to caress the frown formed between his eyebrows. “Among other things, now we are all much happier.”

It was true. They had been together for two years. Two years when he and Grace had been in love, or so hey had believed at least. Grace had stayed isolated from the whole world until she was eighteen years old and had managed to ran away from that house in ruins, but her only friend had remained James and what everyone else would recognize as simple affection for a friend, to her it seemed love. James had agreed to start a relationship out of sheer compassion, as he had only once told his sister, and after a while he had convinced himself that he loved her, too.

But something had changed when the Carstairs had returned to London, he knew it because every time Cordelia was in the room, Grace ceased to exist.

For a while he had managed to ignore all the alarms, but after a few months of falling asleep in bed with his girlfriend, hoping that there was someone else in his arms, he couldn’t make it anymore and had cried in front of Grace, apologizing for the way he had behaved, for lying to her all that time. Grace had hugged him, comforting him, telling him that he had the right to fall in love with whoever he wanted, that it was not something he could avoid, accepting that whatever was between them, it was not love.

The smile on his lips warmed Cordelia’s heart, “You’re right.”

“I told you I was always right.” she smiled at him. James laughed and the movement of his chest made Cordelia slip sideways. He kissed her forehead, keeping his lips to her head, while with one hand he stretched out behind him to turn off the lamp on the bedside table.

When the room was dark, Cordelia drew a heavy sigh of relief and letting herself be lulled by her boyfriend’s arms, she closed her eyes.

And just before Morpheus could kidnap her for the night, she heard James whispering in her neck, “Goodnight Daisy.”

current taglist, if you want to be removed just tell me in the comments below

@tyherondaletrash @clara-sm @cordelia-carstairs-owns-me @tessaherongraystairs @idontgetit-whydoihavetosaymyname @jamescordelias @grxceblqckthxrn @thecerridwen @stitch-kiss @alastairlightwxod @ahiretsinging @allofmywonders

[1kook]

freefall

✗ Wong Yukhei x (F) Reader

summary→ You thought you told Yukhei you didn’t trust Rohei, especially when she was high. Why he even bothers to hang out with her despite her obvious crush is beyond you. wc→ 6.6k tags→ angst, homewrecking attempts, drug use, couple fights :/, makeup vanilla sex, bulging mention, breath play but not rlly lol

fly→ soar→ freefall 

this has been in my drafts for 7 MONTHS!! I'm sorry also not proofread lol

A lot of the things you knew about your boyfriend where things he told you himself, like his favorite color or his grandma’s name. He loved to tell you every little detail of his day, from the fact his socks were inside out to the weird LARPer group he’d seen on the way to class. He’d told you about his love for soccer and his first crush and the last movie he saw and how he liked his phone beneath his pillow. Yukhei literally told you absolutely everything about himself. 

There’s two things Yukhei’s never directly told you. 

The first was something you’re sure Yukhei isn’t exactly aware of himself, and that was the ridiculously Casanova persona he took on when he was high. Of course, you knew firsthand about this Yukhei. His playful expression would fade away, until he was all molten gazes and wandering hands, sneaking beneath your skirt after he’d cornered you against some frat house’s kitchen. Breathy laughs, plush lips pressed against your jaw in some sort of twisted game to see if he could make you come in front of all those people, pressing his wonderfully hidden cock against your hip until you begged him to go home. 

With a little bit of weed, Yukhei became an absolutely delectable man, and you’re not the only one who’s noticed. 

Which leads you to the second piece of information Yukhei’s never told you, and that was the existence of one very clingy girl. Her name was Rohei, an accounting major in the same year as Yukhei. She was pretty and nice, and everyone seemed to like her, which somehow made her entitled to your boyfriend.  How ridiculous. 

You’re not sure when exactly she’d become such a blip in your radar, or when she even started hanging around him. Yukhei never mentioned her, so for a while, you ignored her. 

That is until she started showing up to your sessions, all giggly and annoying as she tried to squish herself beside Yukhei. Even then you’d given her the benefit of the doubt, knowing you were also, quite frankly, an annoying person when you were high. The smoke made a lot of things foggy, but her hand resting on his thigh was as clear as day. 

After that, you’d warned Yukhei against seeing the home wrecker, citing your own personal girl instincts as the only solid reason you had against disliking her, not that Yukhei particularly cared. The first time you mentioned her had confused the fuck out of him, and it only took about five minutes of physical descriptions for him to realize exactly who you were talking about. 

“Oh,” he sighed, pausing his game of Zelda to glance over at you. “The girl with the Windex bottle laugh?” 

You snorted, giving his side a gentle shove with your foot. “Yeah, that girl,” you said. You abandoned your phone in favor of meeting his gaze. He’d invited you over fresh out of his shower, his hair wonderfully fluffed up and soft. God, was he attractive. As if sensing your sudden shift, he wrapped one huge hand around your ankle, tugging you down the bed and towards him. 

“Don’t worry, baby,” he crooned, ducking down to brush his lips over yours. You let an airy moan escape you, sliding a hand around his neck to pull him closer. He grinned something wicked against your lips, game abandoned as he slotted himself against you. “You’re my girl.”

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Yukhei—no, if anything, you trusted him too much. The real issue was that you didn’t trust these other bitches. Yukhei could flaunt your relationship as much as he wanted, could walk around with your name across his chest, but that wouldn’t stop mean and desperate girls from throwing themselves at him. They’d use any chance they’d get to entice him, which is exactly why you’d begged him not to go smoke with his friends one night. 

“Are you serious?” He asked, halfway through tugging his hoodie over his head. After an enjoyable evening tangled in the sheets with you, his best friend in the entire world, Mark Lee, had invited him out to smoke. ‘With the usual gang,’ had been his words, and Yukhei being the pothead that he was, instantly agreed. 

You sighed, tugging the sheets to your chest as you sat up. “Well, is she gonna be there?” You grumbled, not trying to hide your annoyance that well. Yukhei blinked. 

“Are you talking about that girl again?” You pursed your lips, avoiding his gaze. Yukhei snorted, and you yelped as he flopped back down on the bed to envelope you in his arms. “Baby, I’m crazy about you, you know that?”

You rolled your eyes, covering your face with your hands, as if he hadn’t seen you completely naked fifteen minutes before. “I know,” you sighed, though it came out more like a whine. “But she wants to fuck you! I know she does.”

Yukhei ignores you, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. Begrudgingly, you wrap your arms around his soft form, the pout on your face slowly fading. It’s the sweet and romantic side of him, the one he usually hides from his friends, that melts your resolve. A sudden nip at your collarbone brings you out of your rosy vision. 

“Babe, stooop,” you whine, your inner Sammi from Jersey Shore jumping out. “My calves still hurt.”

“Chiiiill,” he murmurs against the skin of your neck, plush lips caressing the skin. With each soft kitten lick he gives, you feel yourself slowly melt into the mattress below you. “Lemme take care of you,” he proposes, and as much as you want to protest, the hand that snakes its way between the two of you sucks the words from your mouth. 

“S-Sensitive,” you say instead, head lolling onto the pillows as Yukhei’s deft fingers rub small circles against your clit. He hums against your skin, carefully taking note of each tremble your thighs give, and the gasps that catch in your throat. 

After he’s done ravishing your throat and your orgasm is creeping up on you for the second time that night, he juts his chin up to meet your gaze. “You did so well tonight, baby,” he praises right before he slots his mouth against yours. “Rode me so good, fuck, you looked so pretty for me.” You reminisce on the grueling work out riding your boyfriend had been, the guiding hands on your waist the only help he’d provided. 

Another whimper escapes you, right before Yukhei does his signature move (the one he’d claimed about a week ago), which was slowing down all movements, letting your orgasm build, before giving your clit one final flick that sent you crashing through your own bliss. 

After you’ve received your second orgasm of the night, and you’re feeling especially pampered, Yukhei kisses you on the lips sweetly and scampers off to meet his friends. 

Afterwards, you’re feeling a little bad about trying to limit his outings because of your own raging jealousy. Yukhei was your boyfriend, but that didn’t mean you had to keep an iron grip on him. He was his own free person; a goofy soul who needed social interaction more than others. For you to keep him on a leash because of some unproven theory was wrong. 

You’re still feeling pretty sour, but that all changes when you do your usual nightly Snapchat sweep. Your swiping through snaps of your classmates and friends, crying over projects or complaining about jobs, when the one and only Mark Lee’s story pops up next. Nothing unusual, just him blowing smoke into the camera while some cheesy RnB music plays on the radio of someone’s car. In fact, everything’s fine until you click right, and are met with a three second snap of a particular group shot, the entire right side of the camera frame taken up by Yukhei’s lean figure and one scheming Rohei wrapped around him. 

You click your phone off, calmly set it to the side, and fall asleep. 

You don’t mention it to Yukhei. For some reason, there’s this annoying voice in the back of your head telling you Yukhei should tell you on his own. After all, you had been having an internal battle on whether you were too protective or not, and going off on him for something that could just be a minor instance would only prove that. 

There’s another big frat party this weekend, and though you usually go with your friends, Yukhei invites you to come with him this time. You can’t say no, especially with the way half of his smile gets hidden by the pillow he’s pressed into. He looks so soft and sweet, you find yourself peppering him in kisses as you agree. 

You don a pretty dress you’d bought that week, a tight little number that accentuates your figure. Right as you bend over to strap your heels into place, you hear a low whistle from the bathroom door. 

“Baby,” Yukhei whines, hands slowly gliding around your waist from behind. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” he huffs, nose pressed against the side of your head. You giggle, leaning back to meet his dark gaze. As if the wolf whistle wasn’t enough, he adds, “I’m gonna bend you over and fuck that pretty little pussy.”

Your jaw drops open, and you playfully slap his hands away. “Yukhei!” You scold, strutting across the room to grab your cell phone and his keys. You ignore his gaze as you go about collecting yourself, and when you’re waiting for him at the door, you say, “who says I’m gonna let you?”

The night goes similarly to that encounter, Yukhei’s eyes trailing you wherever you go. It’s like he refuses to look away from you, from the way your hips sway to the music and the way your collarbones glisten with the thinnest sheen of sweat. Even when he’s settled down in the den for a quick session with his boys, his eyes find their way back to where you’re chattering with your friends right outside the door. 

With each hit, his dark eyes become hazier and hazier. But he also becomes bolder and bolder, sinful pink tongue swiping across his lips as he eye fucks you for the entire world to see. Your friends giggle at your boyfriend’s behavior, and then scramble away when they see his tall figure come swaggering towards the doorway. You presume they’re done with their session for now, everyone parting ways. 

“You come here often?” He croons, and your lips press together in an effort to hold back the ridiculously dopey smile threatening to take over your features. 

“Every now and then,” you respond, easily falling into his little game. It ends up consisting of him babbling out every pick-up line he knows until you’re giggling and falling into him. He’s not exempt from the goofy smile you wear, staring down at you as if you’ve hung the stars in the night sky. 

After a particularly corny comment, he leans down and accidentally knocks your foreheads together. “Come back to my place, baby. I promise I can treat you better than anyone ever has.” Cherry ready lips ghost over your own. 

You hum in response, dizzy from your boyfriend’s flirty behavior. “I don’t know,” you joke, tilting your head up slightly, enough so that you upper lip brushes against his. “My boyfriend wouldn’t like that.”

“Smart guy,” he says, and you roll your eyes. “Seriously, though,” he says, suddenly more sober than he’s been in the past few hours. “I told you I was gonna fuck your pretty little brains out tonight, remember?”

His vulgarity strikes a chord within you, and you find yourself pressing your legs together. But Yukhei is nothing if not observant, his hands tracing down your side until it’s snaked its way around to rest upon the swell of your ass. He knows he’s already won you over for the night, so he presses a quick kiss to you lips before scampering off to tell his friends he’s off. Nows as good a time as ever for you to do the same. 

You nonchalantly stride back over towards where all your friends have congregated this time, telling them you’ve decided to turn in for the night. Them being your friends obviously know that you’re not heading home to sleep, but rather to get fucked into another dimension. You don’t deny nor confirm their claims, instead leaving them with a coy smile that has them up in hoots as you walk away. 

Normally, Yukhei is able to find you in a crowed party easily enough—being tall has its undeniable perks—so you’ve never really been the one searching around for him. But you remember his current state, how he’d stumbled over his words and how his long legs seemed to be working of their own accord tonight. You decide the safest option is to find him yourself, because a high Yukhei tends to have the attention span of a child. 

It doesn’t take long to find the group of guys he’s usually around, Mark Lee’s newly dyed blonde hair particularly standing out to you. They all greet you in the polite way that is customary for a fellow bro’s girlfriend, and you do the same. You turn towards Mark, “where’s Yukhei?”

Mark’s brows furrow together in confusion. “He said he was gonna look for you, actually,” he answers, and you find yourself as confused as him. 

“When was this exactly?” You press, a weird feeling settling in your gut. 

Mark’s lips quirk to the side, eyes drifting around the kitchen as he seems to try to recall when he’d last seen your boyfriend. In the end, he can only offer you a half-assed shrug and an unsure, “ten minutes ago?”

You end up thanking Mark, as well as bidding him adieu, before continuing your search for Yukhei. As you’d mentioned before, he rarely had trouble finding you in crowded areas, always gravitating towards you like a magnet. It was weird that it’d taken him this long, even weirder if he’d actually been stoned enough to have forgotten or strayed away. 

You pass by the beautiful oak study built into this frat house, and almost completely dismiss it had you not caught sight of sudden movement inside. Gently, you push open the glass paneled doors, eyes slowly adjusting to the dark room. 

“Baby,” you hear your boyfriend say. You sigh in relief, thanking god that Yukhei wasn’t lost, just dumb. You glance around for a light switch, only for your eyes to stumble upon the frame of one very out of place figure. Your brow twitches, and had you not been sheathed in darkness, you’re sure she would have seen the way your entire expression changed. 

A movement to her left finally alerts you of where Yukhei is in this dark room, and you don’t hesitate to make your way towards him. Suddenly, you have the vision of the stealthiest nightcrawler as you absorb every detail of this situation. 

The first one is Rohei’s frame, curled up beside Yukhei far enough that she isn’t touching him but close enough she can probably see the swell of his plush upper lip. The second is the vulnerable state of Yukhei’s body, a dab pen clutched between his fingers that definitely isn't his. The third and most telling factor has to be the annoyed expression on her face, similar to your own. 

Oh this bitch was definitely up to something. 

“Babe,” you say, calmer than a retail employee dealing with a stuck-up customer, “we’re supposed to be leaving.”

Yukhei nods, fast and cute like a puppy, but these circumstances make you want to strangle him. “Of course of course, baby, Rohei was just telling me about this new pen flavor!” As if on cue, Rohei smiles sweetly at you, curling just the slightest bit closer to your boyfriend. “I know you really like the watermelon one, so I was wondering if she knew any other good fruity ones.”

You flash her the fakest smile you can muster, and in his state, Yukhei doesn’t seem to notice. “That’s nice,” you play along, eyes burning into her like laser beams. “But I’d really like to get going before it gets darker out.” You tug Yukhei’s arm, his body following you to rise off the couch. 

Right before his ass can leave the cushion, there’s a sudden force being exerted on his other side that has him falling backwards. Your eyes widen, but then narrow into slits when you finally see what had stopped him from leaving with you. Your met with two perfectly manicured hands wrapped around his forearm, attached to the same girl you told Yukhei you didn’t trust. 

“But we were just beginning to talk!” she whines, flashing you an innocent pout that lets you know she knows exactly what she’s doing. You feel your insides boil. “We were having a good little chat, weren’t we, Lu?”

“Lu?” You humph, eyes flickering between her face and Yukhei’s. 

He shrugs, too dazed by the lights sweeping through the open door to really focus on the situation at hand. “She calls me by my American name, baby, remember it?” He beams, not at either of you, but at some invisible object in the air only he seems to be aware of. 

“Yes,” you seethe, “That’s nice and all, but wouldn’t your talk be better when you can actually remember it?” You try, hand gliding from his wrist to his palm to tangle your fingers together. “Let’s get you home now.”

She scoffs, not releasing her grip on his forearm even the slightest bit. “Don’t be a prude, ___,” she spits, “he’s having a good time with me right now, can’t you see.”

Your eyebrows raise at her sudden and rude comment, and you find yourself providing a quick rebuttal. “He’s having a good time because he’s high right now, you’re not that special.” 

“Really now,” she laughs, every bit of malicious intent in her tone. “I’m sure that’s why he always goes out of his way to sit next to me during rotations, right?”

You roll your eyes. “Probably because you take weak, short ass hits, and he knows that.”

"Not because he knows my mouth was there already?” She fights back. “You know my lip gloss looks real cute on him when he goes after me.”

The fact irks you, and you add it to the list of questioning you need to do later. For now, you’re not about to lose to this girl. “I don’t really care if he sits by you, honey,” you reply, finally gathering enough strength to pull Yukhei off and away from her. “Just know that those same lips that hit the blunt right before you are the same ones that ate my pussy twenty minutes earlier,” you smirk, watching as first the shock and then the humiliation washes over her face. 

You throw Yukhei’s arm over you shoulder, staggering towards the doorway as you leave a stunned Rohei behind. “And another thing,” you call out, not even bothering to look at her. “Stop going after my fucking boyfriend.”

As you and Yukhei stumble out of the house, leaving the loud music, alcohol, and weed behind, you realize how warm your face had become during the verbal altercation, turning the air on full blast once you get inside Yukhei’s car. He says nothing as he settles in the passenger seat, letting you drive the short distance to the student apartment he’d been assigned at the beginning of his junior year. 

You’re pulling up on the club when he finally regains power over his tongue. 

“Mean,” he mumbles as you guide him up the stairs until you reach the third floor. 

“Huh?” You say, unlocking his door and ushering him inside. You abandon your shoes by the door, keeping note of his whereabouts as he stumbles around his home. He ultimately crashes on the couch, staring at you with glazed over, red eyes. 

“That was mean,” he repeats, and you raise an eyebrow in confusion. He elaborates. “You didn’t have to be so mean towards Rohei,” he yawns, tugging a throw pillow onto his chest to hug. “She was just being nice, s’all.”

You blink. 

The anger you’d felt towards Rohei seemed overwhelming to you when you encountered her, but it was nothing but a candle flame to the sheer amount of fury that enveloped you now. “Being nice?” You calmly repeat, and Yukhei nods. “Oh, so taking your high as fuck ass to an empty room during a party is being nice now? Flirting with you and touching you in front of my face—that’s being nice?” You splutter.

“Chill out,” Yukhei huffs, sitting up in the slowest manner possible. “We were just smoking,” he mumbles, flashing you an unimpressed glare. 

You snort, tossing his keys on the coffee table to cross your arms over your chest. “Yeah, I know. She loved telling me how her lip gloss looks on you, Yukhei.”

If he wasn’t upset before, he definitely was now as he sits up on the sofa. “Come on now,” he snaps, “you know better than anyone how your little lip gloss sticks to the paper, don’t act stupid now, ____.”

Something snaps inside you, and you whirl directly to face him in anger. “Don’t fucking call me stupid when I’m rightfully mad at you for flirting with other girls.” 

“Rightfully, my ass,” he retorts, tugging his jacket off to throw it over the couch. “She was right, you’re a fuckin’ prude.”

It’s as if every single alarm goes off in your head, eyes narrowed in absolute fury (though it doesn’t stop the water from collecting on your waterline). “If you agree with her so much, then why don’t you invite her over and fuck her brains out tonight, Yukhei,” you spit.

He rolls his eyes, “maybe I fucking should. Probably fucks better than you anyway.”

“You’re such a fucking asshole,” you rasp out, hands balling into fists beside you. 

Yukhei simply flops back onto the sofa, ignoring you even as you stomp back to the entryway with tears in your eyes to put your shoes on. If he says anything  else, you don’t hear it past the thudding of your heart in your throat or the slam of the door behind you. 

There’s not much for you to do then other than stomp your way home in the dark and cold of night, tears blurring your vision on the entire trek back. It’s only as your swiping your ID to unlock the building that you realize you’d left your phone at Yukhei’s, but you’re feeling too humiliated to go back. You settle on washing your makeup off, and tugging your favorite loungewear on (of course, it’s just a pair of shorts and Yukhei’s t-shirt) before moping all night. 

There’s a knock on your door early the next morning that rouses you from what was probably the deepest slumber you’d had in months. It has you shaking the drowsiness away as you try to remember what awoke you in the first place. The knocking continues and you lazily slump off the bed and stumble towards the door. 

There’s a devastatingly handsome man at the door, nothing like his high counterpart that had left you a sobbing mess last night, presenting you with your forgotten phone and an apologetic frown. 

“Hey,” Yukhei murmurs, and you sniff in response, too tired and sleepy to greet him back. “I brought you your phone,” he says, as if you hadn’t already noticed. You snatch it out of his hand. “And I just wanted to—”

You let the door shut in his face, and for a moment all is silent. A second later, and your heart is fluttering wildly in your chest again, the same overwhelming sense of heartbreak you’d dealt with all last night taking a hold of you again. At the same time, the knob begins rattling like crazy, your boyfriend’s desperate voice breaching through the door. 

“Baby, please, I didn’t mean anything last night,” he pleads, the raw emotion noticeable even through the wooden door. “I was high and so fucking stupid, and I know that’s not an excuse but I-I didn’t mean any of it, please,” he begs, and a soft thud against the door leaves you wondering if he’s leaning on it. 

You can feel your heart thundering in your chest, every shaky inhale leaving your throat feeling more and more constricted. It doesn’t take long for your eyes to well up with yesterday’s leftover tears, but you’ll be damned if this dumb ass makes you cry two days in a row. 

Another soft knock pulls you out of the deep hole you’ve dug within yourself. “Please,” Yukhei rasps out, voice oh so vulnerable, “just open the door, baby.”

You tug the door open, narrowing him with the most furious glare you can muster through your watery gaze. “Don’t call me that,” you spit, and you hope he can see how hurt he’s left you. 

“___...” he says, slowly reaching a hand out towards you, one you brush away before turning to head further into your dorm. You plop down on the edge of your bed, turning your phone on to see it’s down to the last quarter of its battery. Yukhei shuffles in, shutting the door behind him before awkwardly hovering over you. 

He doesn’t say much, just plops down on the perfectly made bunk across from you (your roommate has been gone abroad all semester). You start toying around on your phone, watching from the corner of your eye as he plays with the ruby red comforter beneath him, all the while sneakily glancing your way, almost as if he’s unsure if he can even do as much. 

After a couple minutes of awkward silence, you decide to face your fears head on. “So how was Rohei last night?” You murmur, eyes zeroing in on your fuzzy sock-clad toes. Yukhei lets out a harsh exhale, and when you glance up at him, he meets your glare head on. 

“Baby,” he says, soft and slow, in that same tone he uses when he thinks he’s right and he won’t leave until you say otherwise. “I didn’t mean what I said last night, and you know it. I was way out of it and—”

“Shut up,” you spit, unable to contain the annoyance from curling around your voice. “Just say you’re fucking sorry instead of trying to blame this on everything else, Yukhei.”

He blinks, doe eyes comically wide as he takes in your sudden outburst. You take his silence as a sign to continue. “Stop trying to say it was because you were high or drunk or whatever the fuck you were and just say it like it is.” Your chest heaves as a huff escapes you. 

“Calm down,” he says when he regains his wits, “you know better than anyone that I would never say that to you normally, I was just really faded and shocked from all the yelling you were doing.”

“That doesn’t matter, Yukhei!” You burst, hands flailing as the frustration builds inside of you. “You said it, which means you obviously thought it before—”

“I didn’t!” He counters, voice as loud as yours. “It slipped out in the heat of the moment, it was an accid—”

“Oh, everything you said was by accident then? Calling me stupid and a prude? That was all just an accident?”

“It fucking was! Don’t act like you’re not the same way when you’re high. You let any and every guy hang off of you, but suddenly the one time I do it it’s a problem?” He snorts, brows furrowed dangerously close. 

You scoff, your chest feeling tighter and tighter with each passing second. “Don’t you dare turn this on me, Yukhei, because I’ve never said I’d rather be with someone else,” you spit, your words seemingly slowing his defensive attacks. Your traitorous eyes flood with tears. “High or no—,” you mean to end with, but your voice cracks as a sob escapes through your throat. 

You look away in shame, covering your face with your hand. It takes everything in you to stop your frame from shaking because you know he’s watching you with those big sad eyes of his. 

You’ve always been unnecessarily weak when it came to Yukhei, his smile just too bright for your heart and the way he’d softly call out baby making every bone in your body weak. You were too much of a pushover, always won over by his charming words and his talented fingers. Even now, as you feel the bed dip beside you, you don’t hesitate to throw yourself into his arms and let your sobs overtake you. 

His hand rubs against your back as he softly shushes you, murmuring, “I’m sorry,” over and over into your hair. You cry out all the tears from last night and then some. Faintly, from your spot pressed against his chest, you can hear the thundering of his heartbeat and know it matches your own. His fingers continue their dance over your skin, gently massaging your scalp before tracing along your spine, ever so softly and gently. 

“I’m sorry,” he says when your sobs have been reduced to sniffles. “I was stupid, and should have thought about what I said before I said it.” He pauses, and you pull away from your safe spot nestled in his arms to meet his forlorn gaze. “Honestly, I think I was just trying to say whatever I could to hurt you,” he admits, his glazed eyes looking down. The tip of his nose is red and you know it’s taking everything in him to not cry with you. 

Your soft spot for Yukhei is nothing compared to the weakness he has for you. 

He repeats his apology a third time, ducking his head to bump your foreheads together, eyes fluttering shut as he takes in your presence. You sniffle once more before tilting closer to brush your mouth against his. The shaky exhale he releases against you has you melting into his embrace, the fingers that had been clutching to his biceps for dear life, slowly relaxing. 

He gently eases you onto your bed, lips departing from yours to trail down your neck, pressing his knee between your spread thighs. One of his hands glides from its position on your shoulder to cradle the underside of your thigh, tugging it upwards until you’ve thrown it around his waist. The gesture has your bodies pressing closer, cores aligned. 

“You don’t have to,” you murmur when you feel his cold fingers creep beneath your top, dancing along your skin. 

He presses a peck to your collarbone. “I do,” he responds, and you jump when his fingers brush against the underside of your breast. “Have to show you how much I love you.”

Your heart swells, and you find your hands reaching up to tangle in his dark brown locks, the pretty blonde color he’d had when you first met now completely gone. The memory has you thinking back even further in time, to your lazy days spent working the movie theater over the summer, when he’d been just a silly work crush, to the first time you’d hung out and he taught you how to smoke. The rose-tinted glasses in which you view all these memories with him has you murmuring out the words back to him. 

He wastes no time tugging your little shorts off, leaving you clad in just heart-patterned undies that have Yukhei muffling a snort into your shoulder. “You’re so fucking cute, baby,” he croons, letting one lone finger trace along your slit. 

You whimper, thighs quivering as you watch him tease and toy with you until you’re begging him to fuck you already. “But you’re not stretche-”

“Please,” you whine, cupping his cheeks in your palms, “I need you so bad.”

He caves without much of a fight, leaning back onto his haunches to tug himself out of his grey sweatpants. The sight of his slowly plumping cock has you salivating like a dog, and before he leans over you again, you press a palm to his chest. 

He blinks, big brown eyes staring at you in confusion. “What?” You pinch the fabric of his shirt between two fingers, pulling it back, before letting it fall into place again. Yukhei snorts, “oh,” and with one hand, tugs his shirt over his head. The movement gives you a delicious view of his muscles in action, and you feel yourself grow impossibly wetter. 

With the material finally out of the way, he reaches down to tug your panties to the side, giving him the perfect view of your throbbing center. He doesn’t bother to line himself up, just grabs his cock in his hand before plunging it where he knows it should go. He doesn’t waste any time, bottoming out in the first go.

Your toes curl, hands wildly gripping onto whatever they can—the pillow, the comforter, his hair—until they settle on digging into his shoulders. He grinds his hips, leaning down to place his palms on the bed on either side of your head. You proximity allows you to wrap your arms around his neck, but you also use it to press a soft kiss to his jaw. 

“Fuck,” he grunts, finally pulling his hips back until only the head of his dick is sheathed inside you. He stays like that for a second, before thrusting back in full force. “You’re so perfect, baby,” he tells you, repeating the action over and over again. “I don’t know what I’d do with myself if I ever lost you.”

You moan, nails digging into the flexing muscles of his shoulders. You choke out another moan, his speed picking up and rendering you speechless afterwards. A particular hard thrust has you groaning in pleasure, a hoarse shout of “fuck!” leaving your lips. 

Yukhei huffs, hot breath fanning across your face. “You like that?” He taunts, snapping his hips forward, clapping his skin against yours. You nod, hands falling limp as they slide off his shoulders. “Tell me how much you like it, baby.”

Your tongue feels heavy inside your mouth as you struggle to find the words. The drag of his cock against your pussy walls making you draw a blank. “I-I-I love it,” you gasp, the hands that slid off his form a moment ago limply wrapping around his waist. Your head rolls to the left, and you press a chaste kiss to his wrist. “Fuuuck,” you whimper, eyes squeezing shut at the pleasure enveloping you. “Yu-Yukhei,” you cry, though he doesn’t slow down to hear you. “I love you,” you babble, and then say it another two times for good measure. 

He huffs out a chuckle at your mindless state, finally slowing his hips. He begins gently rocking against you, one hand snaking down to toy with your clit. You cry out again, every part of your being feeling so sensitive. “I love you too, baby,” he murmurs, the tip of his pointer finger tracing circles around your clit. Right as you’re about to climax, he pulls that goofy signature move of his and halts everything, letting you hang of the precipice before giving your clit one final caress. 

Your orgasm has you babbling even more nonsense, from how much you love him to how good he fucks, to a randomly thrown in “and fuck you, rohei” that has him smiling against your jawline where he’s been pressing kisses. 

Your body feels featherlight afterwards, and you almost fall asleep had Yukhei not begin shallowly thrusting in you again. You’re reminded of his pleasure, and you reach a hand up to cradle his face as he continues rutting against you. “So good, baby,” you purr, eyes hazy with love and euphoria as you watch him. He smirks at the usage of your pet name against him, turning his head to press a kiss to your palm. 

“You’re usually not a—a dirty talker,” he mumbles, looking away from you for a second to watch how his length plunges into your dripping hole. 

“I can be,” you murmur, you thighs twitching as a result of your oversensitivity. “For you.”

Yukhei snorts. “Yeah?” You nod. “Talk me through it then, baby,” he teases. 

You bite your lip in an attempt to contain a smile, but it still shines through. “Anything for you, baby,” you play along, finally letting go of his face to trace your hand down his abdomen, until it’s rested right above his pelvis. “You really outdid yourself this time,” you murmur, watching how his dick disappears inside of you. “You love fucking me when I cry, don’t you?” 

“You know it, baby,” he responds, flashing you that wicked smirk of his. 

Your laugh trails off into a light moan, and you can’t tell if the wetness you feel is from your own come or a new wave of arousal. “Ugh, I can’t,” you whine, your resolve weakening as you watch him shallowly thrust into you. Your boyfriend laughs, tightens his grip on your waist, and then pushes further in. Your eyes roll back, but you snap them open when you catch sight of your stomach. 

Something pokes up through your skin, and aside from the initial fear and confusion that’d caused your eyes to fly wide open, your entire body tingles anew when you realize it’s Yukhei’s huge cock bulging through your skin. 

“Fuck, baby,” your traitorous tongue starts, eyes hazy as you watch him move beneath your skin. “You’re so fucking big you can see it.”

If you were surprised, Yukhei is completely awestruck at the sight, his body moving as if under a trance as he watches the way his cock makes your skin bulge. Right before you can start babbling like a dumb ass, Yukhei reaches his hand down to cup over your mouth. “Just shut up for a second,” he warns, and suddenly, begins picking up his pace at the same angle. 

Each thrust has his cock pushing up into your tummy, and you moan and whine under his hand as your second orgasm builds inside of you. “Jesus, fuck,” Yukhei spits, eyes wild as he fucks for himself, completely disregarding you. “Look at my fucking cock inside of you.”

His hand stays firmly clamped over your mouth, your only airway available being your nose, so you find yourself huffing and gasping for breath. Yukhei doesn’t notice, his movements growing sloppier and more out of rhythm the closer he gets to his own orgasm, until finally he lets you go. He doesn’t give you a second to catch your breath though, as he shoves his tongue down your throat. 

Suddenly, he freezes, and you can feel his hot seed coating your walls as he groans into your mouth. The sensation of your pussy being so deliciously full of both your pleasures has something inside you snapping, and a second wave of euphoria crashes over you. Your toes curl, and his name falls from your mouth like a mantra, before eventually the both of you fall numb and silent. 

You regain your wits first, reaching a hand up to gently card at his hair, humming a tune as he catches his breath. You think he’s fallen asleep, when suddenly he leans back to look at your worn out features, and says, “did you see my cock, baby?”

You snort, and push his face away from you, much to his amusement. “Yeah, I felt it,” you murmur, and hiss when he pulls out of you, momentarily staring at your overflowing and abused hole.

He groans at the sight. “God, I can't wait to get you pregnant.”

“What?!”

[glazslippers]

Anything You Can Do, I Can Do Better

Pairing: Stanley Uris x OC (female) Warnings: cursing

Summary: Quinn had spent her whole life protecting other women from the dangers of men. When she met Stanley, she thought he was just like every other boy she had come across, sex craved and egotistical. Although one of those was correct, that didn’t stop the feelings she felt towards him form.

A/N: this is my first fanfic i’ve posted on here and i honestly feel like a mom on snapchat. if you like it please let me know and i might continue writing things like these in the future! (i’m really sorry if this sucks)

Even though Quinn Macey had moved to Derry less than three months ago, that didn't stop her from making tons of friends. They loved her outgoing and sarcastic personality and the fact that she didn't take shit from anyone. She wouldn't constantly stick up for them at school and in town if there was a guy trying desperately to get into their pants. She was often nicknamed spitfire or hot head or a string of other names, drawing inspiration from her short temper and red hair.

It was no secret that in the three short months she'd lived in Derry, she gained a string of female friends partly because she refused to talk to any of the boys at school or on town. It was her own personal grudge that she held against every living male. They didn't cause anything but trouble in her opinion and the only thing on their mind was sex.

Because of her refusal of boys, many of them and even a few girls had coined her as lesbian, not that she minded. She dressed girly enough, but when she wanted to she could get down and dirty, playing a variety of sports. In her old town, she played on a softball team that won a few state-wide games. She had also dabbled in football and soccer. Though soccer wasn't her favorite, she played it anyway.

When she moved to Derry, she had to quit her team and say goodbye to her friends, which she probably won't hear of again. Starting at the end of the school year might have been hard for anyone else opposite of Quinn. She decided to start out nice, warming up to everyone but when a few guys tried hitting on her, she quickly put her in their place and made it clear she wasn't interested. They had bugged her over and over. If it was just some one time thing she might have looked passed it but since they kept on pestering her, she had to take matters into her own hands.

The last day of school was nearing an end and Quinn found herself eyeing the clock. Her reasoning behind staring at the gadget was nothing more than "maybe if I stare hard enough it'll tick faster." It obviously didn't get the memo, and continued ticking at its agonizingly slow pace.

Maybe it was the sun shining from outside through the classroom window onto her skin, or the fact that she couldn't wait to get out of the retched classroom and was bouncing her leg up and down so much that she had broken out into a small sweat but one thing was certain: today had to be the hottest day of the year.

Quinn thought of the regret she had for wearing jeans and had her hair down while she fanned herself off with her right hand. She had already tied her shirt up as high as the school would allow but it didn't help because of the broken AC system in the class she was in. She looked outside, seeing the seniors leave school early, being dismissed by the teachers because they were upperclassmen and did the calculations in her head. If the seniors already walked out, they must have been released by the teachers, like everyday, five minutes before school let out. Quinn started counting down from 300 in her head.

297, 296, 295.

She couldn't focus on whatever the teacher was saying. The small heat stroke she was having didn't help with focusing either.

230, 229, 228.

She leaned her head back, fanning her neck and wrists. Her once ice filled water bottle became a lake of boiling lava in her metal cup.

134, 133, 132.

Quinn wondered if she had gotten to the halfway mark or already passed it while she was counting. She didn't think she could take one more minute of being without air. Black spots clouded her vision and she lied her head against the window.

97, 96, 95.

She was getting so close. Less than a hundred seconds to go until she could escape the body heat filled room and into the hot summer air. At least she would feel something other than hot.

Quinn was two seconds away from ripping her shirt off and using it as a noose when the bell rang. She sprung up as fast as she could and bolted out of the door. One of her friends, Savannah, walked by her and Quinn grabbed her arm.

"I'm dying," she said in between pants.

Savannah raised an eyebrow at the dramatic girl in front of her. "You good?"

"Do I look good?" Quinn retorted. "I am the definition of lava. If you look it up in the dictionary you'll see a picture of me melting."

"I take it you're hot?"

"How are you not? It's literally two hundred degrees out!"

Savannah rolled her eyes and closed her locker. Ah head just cleaned everything out and placed it all into her book bag. With an amused smile, she looked down at Quinn who had her head against the tall blue lockers. "Wanna go swimming?"

The words sparked energy into Quinn's body. Suddenly, she didn't realize that she had drops of sweat rolling down her face or the bottom of her hair had stuck to her neck. All she cared about was the cool release of hitting the cool body of water and cooling off.

At the mention of swimming, Savannah watched Quinn's eyes widen and laughed. "I'm guessing that's a yes?"

"That's a hell yes!"

Quinn and Savannah hopped out of Savannah's car and Quinn had never undressed herself so fast in her entire life. She stripped down to her underwear and immediately ran and jumped off the cliff that towered over the river. Savannah looked over the edge, worried when her friend didn't pop back up but let out a sigh of relief when Quinn's head poked its familiar red hair out of the water.

"Come in it feels so nice!" She yelled up at the brunette looking over the rocks.

"I don't know, Q. It's pretty high up."

"Just jump! It'll be over in an instant!"

Savannah shook her head and backed away from the edge. "I can't do it."

Quinn rolled her eyes and swam to land. She crawled out of the water and hiked back up to where Savannah was standing. Her wet body weighed her down but the second she rang her hair out it felt as if she lost five pounds.

"Here," Quinn grabbed Savannah's hand. "I'll jump with you."

"Quinn," the brunette whined.

"Don't whine, you baby. It's just a few feet."

"A few feet?" Savannah yelled with wide eyes. "Girl, that is at least three hundred feet."

"Maybe, but once you jump you'll realize it's not that high at all."

"Yeah, but I'm not jumping."

Quinn groaned. "Sav, I'm gonna day this in the nicest way possible: stop being such a pussy and jump."

Savannah frowned. "That was you being nice?"

Quinn shrugged and cornered Savannah where she was back to the edge. "You're either gonna hump or I'm gonna push you. You're choice."

"Quinn," Savannah warned. "You better back up." The ginger smirked and an evil glint shone across her eyes.

If it weren't for a group of teenage boys pulling up on their bikes behind them, Savannah would've been done for. The girls' head snapped around to see who had joined them. There were four boys, obviously outnumbering them and probably had the same idea they had after school let out. They threw their bikes to the ground and some removed their shoes while the other removed their shirts, obviously not noticing the two girls half naked in front of them.

Stanley turned his head to the direction of the cliff, sprinting over to it but stopped when he saw the girls. "Um, what're you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Quinn said with a little more attitude than she meant.

"Well, obviously we're gonna swim. So, why don't you too head home and play with some Barbies or whatever."

Quinn scoffed and Savannah sighed, knowing what her friend would do in this situated. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," Stanley rolled his eyes. "Get lost."

"I'm sorry, who was here first?"

By now, the rest of the boys came over to their friend, backing him up against the girls or one girl in particular. "We come here every summer so it's our hangout," Richie said.

"Oh, sorry. Well just be on our way then."

Stanley crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows when she didn't move.

"What, you thought I was serious?" Quinn bitterly laugh. "I knew boys were dumb, but I didn't think they were that dumb."

"W-We're not d-dumb!" Bill replied.

"Well?" Stanley said.

"Well what?"

"Leave already!"

Quinn put her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes. "No. We were clearly here first. Doesn't matter if you guys come here every summer or not."

"You must be new around here cause this is our space," Richie spike.

"And so what if I am? I don't see your name on this cliff."

Stanley glared at the girl in front of him. "Who do you think you are?"

"Quinn Macey." She smiled almost taunting him to keep bugging her, which he gladly did.

"Well, Quinn Macey, why don't you and your friend head home before you get yourself jumping off this cliff."

Quinn grabbed Savannah's hand protectively. "Her name is Savannah and I've already jumped it. But you pretty boys are probably too chicken to jump aren't you?"

Stanley scoffed and walked forward, making the friends behind him walk forward too. "You think we can't jump it?"

"Nah I don't think that's it. Maybe it's the fact that you're just threatened by two girls who rightfully deserve to stay at your precious little river."

Stanley laughed. "You think we're threatened by you? A spoiled brat that can't stand not getting what she wants?"

"You little-" Before Quinn could get close to Stanley, Savannah held her back by her arms. Quinn obviously struggled against Savannah's grip but the brunette wasn't looking for a fight, she just wanted to swim.

"Stan, maybe we could just share it," Eddie whispered to the curly headed boy in front of him. He also wasn't looking for a fight and wanted to remain peaceful, knowing Stan was too stubborn to give up and Quinn probably was the same.

"Share? Ed, have you gone crazy? Why would we share the river with some random girls?"

"Well, I don't really wanna fight over it and it seems like the best option. We both get what we want," Eddie shrugged.

"I-I'm fine w-with sharing," said Bill.

"Not you too," Stan sighed and looked at Richie. "Rich, tell them sharing's not an option."

Richie looked away from Stanley, kickoff the dirt underneath him. "I mean, all I want to do is swim. I guess it wouldn't matter if there are chicks in the water or not."

Stanley groaned. "Fine."

"So you guys are leaving?" Quinn asked, crossing her arms.

"No, we're gonna share," Eddie explained. "That way we both can swim."

Quinn raised an eyebrow. "No way. There's no way-"

Savannah cut Quinn off. "We'll take it!" At the ginger's gaze she shrugged. "What? I want to swim."

"Good." With that the boys finished taking off their clothes, leaving them in only underwear.

"So, are we swimming with strangers or..." Savannah trailed off.

"That's Bill, Eddie, and Stanley," Richie introduced, "and I'm Richie."

"Savannah and Quinn," the brunette formally introduced.

Stanley and Quinn kept glaring at each other during the introductions as if the first person to look away would lose their little mind game between just the two of them. During this time, Eddie, Bill, and Richie had already jumped from the cliff. Quinn obviously had no intention of moving her gaze until Savannah grabbed her arm. She cursed herself when her head turned to meet Savannah's gaze. Stanley held a satisfying smirk on his face because he had won their staring contest.

"Q, I'm just gonna take the long way down."

Quinn frowned. "No jumping?"

"You know I'm terrified of heights."

"Fine. I'll be down in a minute."

Savannah walked away leaving Quinn alone with Stanley. Stan walked up next to her and got into position for a running start. Quinn followed his actions, giving him a challenging smirk. Stanley narrowed his eyes and shifted his gaze ahead. They took off at the same time, another wordless challenge adapted to see who could jump the farthest.

Quinn thought for sure she jumped farthest and swam back up to the surface with a satisfying smile on her face. That was until she saw Stanley pop his head up and flip the hair out of his eyes. He was just a few feet in front of her and a frown formed on her face when she saw the teasing glint in his eyes as if he was dying to annoy her by saying he had gotten farther than her.

With a huff, Quinn swam over to where Savannah had gotten in at and began chatting with her, occasionally swimming further out to get away from the boys.

Stan tried his best hiding the looks he gave Quinn from afar but the boys had caught on since he wasn't that good at hiding. Richie splashed Stan's face to stop him from staring.

Stanley wiped his face and glared at Richie. "What was that for?"

Richie smirked. "You were staring."

"Was not."

"We're to."

Eddie joined in. "It was kind of obvious that you were staring, Stan."

"Stan l-likes Q-Quinn," Bill teased.

Stanley splashed Bill in the face to shut him up. "No I don't. I'm just annoyed that they're here."

"I'm not," said Eddie. He turned to the girls that were a little further out than they were. "Hey, guys!"

Their heads turned to the voice shouting at them. Stan's eyes went wide as he hit Eddie in the arm. "What are you doing?" He whispered.

Eddie shrugged. "Inviting them over for a game." He turned to the girls that started swimming over, led by Savannah. "Wanna chicken fight?"

"How do you play?" Savannah asked. The boys stood on the shallower end so when the girls came up, the water was up to their chests. Quinn stood behind Savannah with her arms crossed, not particularly wanting to be around Stanley.

"One person gets on another person's shoulders and fights the other team. The first first to knock the other off, wins," Eddie explained.

"Okay, who's gonna get on who?" Quinn questioned.

"We'll switch it up so it doesn't really matter right now."

"Okay, Savannah. Hop on." Quinn went under water and let Savannah climb on top of her shoulders. When she was on, Quinn went back above water and grabbed onto Savannah's thighs so that she wouldn't go anywhere.

"How the hell did you-" Richie started but was interrupted by Quinn.

"Sav's a twig. She weighs, like, two pounds."

Richie got on Bill's shoulders while Eddie and Stanley watched. Richie and Savannah grasped hands and started fighting. Bill and Quinn navigated to help better their team's chances at winning by moving from side to side or forwards and backwards. It was a tough fight, but eventually Richie was the victor. Richie yelled how proud he was and Bill shook him off his shoulders.

"Who's next bitches?" Richie asked, ready for another round.

"I wanna go," Quinn announced. Savannah seemed to have a lot of fun and it would be extremely satisfying to knock one of the boys off. "Sav?"

Savannah's eyes widened. "Um, no offense, but I'm not as strong as you."

Quinn playfully glared at her. "Are you calling me fat?"

"Don't worry, Quinn. Stan's pretty strong, he'll be able to hold you," Richie winked.

"I'm not fat!"

"Alright, Eddie get your ass over here so I can get on your shoulders. Quinn you get on Stan's shoulders," Richie instructed. Stan and Quinn's eyes widened at the boy's words.

"No way!" They yelled in unison.

"Everyone else has gone. Stop being losers so we can play the game."

"Fine," Stanley huffed and went under water so Quinn would have an easier time of getting on. After a few seconds, he still didn't feel her weight on his shoulders and popped back up. "You just gonna let me drown?"

"That was the plan," Quinn admitted with a smirk on her face.

"Will you just get on, brat?"

"Don't get your panties in a twist." Stanley dipped back under water and Quinn crossword over his shoulders. He came back up and placed his hands a little too high up for Quinn's comfort. She smacked them away but the second she started falling back tugged on Stan's hair. His neck got hot and the tips of his ears went red. "Got a thing for hair pulling, pretty boy?"

"I won't hesitate to let go," Stanley warned.

The truth of the matter was that Stanley was beet red. Only Eddie and Richie could see him like this and to anyone else they would've thought that Stan was just having a tough time keeping Quinn up. Except that was the opposite of what was happening. Stanley was quite strong as he used the muscles in his legs to hoist them up out of the water.

It just so happened that the mix of hair pulling (one of his turn ons), the fact that her stomach was up against his head, and the his touch on her thighs made him blush all over. Oh, and also because her crotch was sitting on the back of his neck.

Quinn and Richie joined hands and the boy knew that if Stanley was in his place he would've had a field day at what he was witnessing. Because Quinn was bent over and her arms had squeezed to the sides of her breasts to meet Richie's arms, her boobs had smushed together. Richie didn't dare look but he could still see them from where he looked on her face.

They fought back and forth, Quinn pushing at Richie and the other way around. She would occasionally grab onto Stan's head to regain her balance and when she did, Stanley backed up so that Richie wouldn't take the opportunity to knock her off. After a few minutes of struggling on both ends, Quinn eventually pushed Richie off Eddie's shoulders.

The boy went down with a loud yell and defeated, emerged from the water with a frown. "I really just got beat by a girl."

Quinn had a proud smile on her face. "Don't take it personal, I'm just stronger than you." She patted Stanley's head. "You can let me down now."

Stanley went under water and released his grip on Quinn's thighs. Once he didn't feel her on him anymore, he returned to the surface, almost bumping into her. Neither said anything, but both had a small blush on their cheeks as they swam to their separate groups.

Savannah didn't miss the pink tint on Quinn's cheeks and shared a knowing look with Eddie. She and Eddie walked onto land that was about two yards away to get away from the others.

"So, are they in love or are they in love?" Savannah laughed.

"All of the above," Eddie responded with a smile similar to the girl in front of him and looked at Quinn and Stanley who were hiding behind both Richie and Bill.

"And what are we gonna do about it?" Savannah asked, rocking on her feet.

"What do you mean?"

Savannah rolled her eyes. "Well, if we're gonna set them up we gotta have a plan."

"Oh, right. How about we all go to the movies and make them sit next to each other?" His eyes suddenly went wide at the thought he had. "And they can share a bucket of popcorn!"

"Shh," Savannah shushed him. "That's a good idea. But what movie are we gonna see?"

"How about a horror movie?" Eddie suggested.

"That's genius! I know Quinn and she gets scared easily. A scary movie will have her jumping into his arms."

"The theater's doing a rerun of all the eighties scary movies on Saturdays. So tomorrow they'll be playing A Nightmare on Elm Street."

Savannah nodded. "We'll be there."

"Are you gonna be scared?"

Savannah laughed at his question. "Hell no. If there's one thing I have over Quinn it's scary movies. I love them, she hates them."

"Alright, we'll meet you guys there at six, okay? By the time we get out, it'll be dark."

"I'll make an excuse on why I can't take her home and then Stan'll have to walk her." She wiggled her eyebrows.

After a few more hours in the water, it started getting dark out, which meant it was time to leave. Quinn decided against putting on her jeans and instead slipped her shirt over her head and put on her socks and shoes. Her shirt was rather large because it was her mom's so it came down a little above the bottom of her butt, still showing the underwear underneath.

Savannah didn't miss Stanley's stare directed towards Quinn's body and held a big smile on her face. Once in the car, Quinn questioned why Savannah was smiling so large.

"Cause I have a huge crush on Stanley Uris."

Quinn didn't sense the joking tone in her voice and replied with a simple, "Oh."

Savannah snorted at her friend who stared out the window like her soul had just collapsed. "I'm just kidding, he's all yours."

Quinn's head snapped to the driver and scowled. "I do not have a crush on Stanley. Did you not witness what I witnessed today? He was an ass."

"Or maybe, he was having a bad day."

"Or maybe, he's an ass."

Savannah rolled her eyes and continued driving. "Wanna go see a movie tomorrow with the boys?"

"Is-"

Savannah interrupted Quinn's question. "Is Stan gonna be there? Yes."

Quinn glared. "That's not what I was gonna ask. Is someone gonna pay for my ticket? Cause I don't have any money."

"I'll pay for you, sugar baby." Savannah winked.

"Thanks daddy." The girls erupted into laughter.

The next day, Savannah showed up at Quinn's house just before five. Quinn was still getting ready as Savannah walked into her room. She was contemplating whether or not to wear her smaller hoops or go bold and wear larger ones. "Which ones?"

Savannah raised an eyebrow at Quinn's attire. She wore a short blue sundress that had no sleeves and reached just above her mid thigh. It might have been one of the shortest dresses she owned but it definitely wasn't number one. She didn't wear any makeup, like always, but had lip gloss on her lips.

"The small ones," Savannah decided and watched Quinn put them on in the mirror. "Is all this for Stanley?"

"Will you shut up? It's hot outside and I am not making the same mistake as yesterday."

"I'm guessing that's the same for the earrings, lip gloss, and perfume?"

Quinn have her a look. "We're going to the movies with a group of people. Why not get a little dolled up?

They hung out for awhile at Quinn's house until it was time to leave. They both hopped in Savannah's car and drove into town where they would meet the boys at the movie theater. Savannah had yet to tell Quinn what movie they were going to see but she could only assume it wasn't something sappy if the boys were tagging along. Or maybe they were tagging along with the boys. Either way, they were going to see a movie and Quinn hoped it was going to be good.

The boys were already waiting for them as they pulled up and parked. Quinn noticed there was one less male from yesterday and furrowed her eyebrows as they neared the group. "Where's Stanley?"

Eddie and Savannah looked at each other knowingly while Richie responded. "He's inside away from the heat. We've been here for awhile."

"It is pretty hot out," Quinn admitted. "How long have you guys been here?"

"Since four thirty. Eddie forgot what time we needed to be here so we've just camped out waiting for you two," Richie explained.

"Well, lets go in and buy our tickets."

Savannah bought her and Quinn's ticket while the boys bought theirs. When it came to who was getting popcorn, Bill and Richie would share a bucket, so would Savannah and Eddie and Quinn and Stanley.

"Wait, why can't we share a bucket?" Quinn asked Savannah as she took the bucket of buttery popcorn in her hands. Movie theater popcorn was her favorite kind of popcorn. It was popped fresh in front of you and you could determine how much butter you wanted on it.

"Cause I'm not sitting next to you. I'm sitting next to Eddie," Savannah said as they walked into the theater where the movie was playing.

Eddie sat next to Savannah, who was adjacent to Bill and Richie. Quinn found herself sandwiches between Richie and Stanley. A duo she didn't know if she could handle without her open minded friend. Reluctantly, she handed the bucket of popcorn to Stanley. If she wanted some later, she'd grab it herself. When she usually shared, Quinn would set the popcorn on the arm rest but right now she wanted to rest her arm on it.

After what seemed liked a thousand previews of every movie other than the one they were watching, the movie started. The theater went black and the only lights were the emergency ones and the big screen in front of them. Quinn grabbed popcorn and shoved it in her mouth, almost chocking when she saw the title come up on the screen.

THE NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET

Quinn watched in horror with wide eyes then turned to her left, looking over Richie and Bill and scowled at Savannah who was happily eating popcorn. Resting her back into the chair, Quinn sank down and mentally groaned.

"What is it?" Stanley whispered.

"I wouldn't have come if I knew we were watching this," Quinn responded. She would rather puke her own guts out than watch anything gruesome or filled with jump scares. Unfortunately for her, it would be a long night full of violence and scares.

Quinn wasn't expecting a sex scene to show up and the moment it did, she immediately became uncomfortable. Thankfully, it passed by quick enough and she was left with more agonizing jump scares. One scene in particular made her grab onto Stanley's hand that was resting on the arm rest.

The movie continued with little touches like that. Sometimes when Quinn stuck her hand inside the bucket of popcorn, Stan's hand would be there too and they would brush up against each other.

Then there were times when Quinn got really scared and hid herself in Stan's shoulder to stop herself from watching the screen. Stanley was more than okay with the times she got scared. He didn't want to seem too forward and comfort her back but he let her continue hiding in his shoulder.

When the movie ended, Quinn bolted out of the theater to finally get air and leaned against the wall, the rest following shortly after.

"S-Scared of a m-movie, Q-Quinn?" Bill teased.

"Not at all. I was just getting a little hot," she lied. The group walked to the front of the theater and Quinn looked out the windows with wide eyes. "Oh, it's dark."

"That a problem?"

"No," Quinn snapped a little too harsh at Richie's taunt. "I think we should head home, Sav."

"About that, mom said I needed to be home at eight and it's already seven fifty-two. Could you walk home?"

"A-Alone? Out there?" Quinn's gaze went from Savannah to the pitch black outside.

"Stan can walk you home," Eddie suggested and nudged his friend. "Right, Stan?"

Stanley's head shot up at the mention of his name. "What?"

"You'll walk Quinn home, right?"

"Uh," Stanley looked at Quinn who seemed nervous about walking home alone. His expression softened. "Yeah, sure."

"Okay, well I had fun guys, but I should go so my mom doesn't rip my head off and feeds it to the dog." Savannah waved goodbye and got in her car and left. Richie, Eddie, and Bill all left together, leaving Stanley and Quinn alone.

"So, did you like the movie?" Stan asked.

"Hell no."

Stanley laughed and Quinn felt her heart beat a little faster when he did. "I take it your not much of a horror fan?"

"I avoid them like the plague." Quinn crossed her arms and continued looking outside, almost as if she was looking for any supernatural creature or serial killer hidden behind street lamps or alleyways.

"Where do you live?"

"The culdesac off Baker Street," Quinn responded. When they started to walk, she noticed her shoe was untied and told him to wait as she bent down and tied it. "Okay, we can-" Quinn gasped and froze when she felt a hand come in contact with her bottom.

Stanley's eyes widened and his head shot to the culprit. It was some teen who didn't go to their school. Luckily, he was Stan's height so when the Jew grabbed hold of the boy's collar and lift him up, he didn't have to move far. While up in the air, Stanley pinched him in the face and threw him on the ground. Some of the people in the same area witnessed it happen and also saw that when the manager came out, Stan grabbed Quinn's hand and ran outside. They didn't stop running until the theater was out of sight.

Quinn was in shock and confusion by what had just happened and who she had froze instead of beat the boy to a pulp then and there. Maybe when you've defended other girls your whole life, it comes as a shock when it actually happens to you. Quinn was extremely lucky to have had Stanley there beside her in her vulnerable moment and snuck a glance in his direction.

His forehead glistened under the lamp's light because of the sweat from running and he stuck his hands into his pant pockets. He looked down and tried to regain his breath. They walked in silence for a few paces until Quinn finally spoke up. "Thank you."

Stanley looked over at her. He wasn't going to push the subject on her so he let her speak first before asking any further questions. "It was nothing. Are you okay?"

Quinn nodded and frowned. "I should've chopped his dick off and made him eat it right there." Stanley raised and eyebrow and Quinn huffed. "All I've done my life is try to protect other girls from men like that but the second it happens to me I freeze? It's pathetic."

"It's not pathetic. It's just different when it comes to protecting yourself. Instead of an offense attack, it's defense. Two different tactics."

"Then I guess I need more practice on defensive strategies."

They walked through the dark with only the light of the street lamps over their heads. From her left, Quinn heard a bush shake quickly and pounced onto Stanley's side, grabbing onto his arm for dear life. He looked down at her and the second she realized there was no danger, she looked at him. It was only for a second before she jumped back to where she was beside him earlier.

"Sorry," she muttered.

"I-It's fine." He looked down at her and bit his lip. "If you weren't just sexually assaulted, I'd ask to kiss you."

Anger rose in Quinn's body until his full sentence registered in her mind and her face softened. "Y-You would?"

"Yeah. You're pretty and confident and when you jump into me it makes me feel more like a man."

Quinn rolled her eyes with a smile. "I guess I wouldn't mind if you asked."

"Really?" Quinn nodded. "So, can I kiss you?" Quinn nodded again and Stanley bent down and placed his lips on top of hers. Even with the limited knowledge about these encounters didn't stop her from kissing back. Her hands made their way up his neck and while one stayed there, the other trailed up into his hair and twirled it around her finger. Stanley placed his hands on her sides and pulled her in closer so that their hips were touching. He was bold enough to run his tongue along her bottom lip, asking for entrance and she was fine with it, letting him in.

Their little kiss had turned into a make-out session in the middle of the sidewalk until a sound from behind Quinn made her break away and dart her head towards it. It was just a bird flying out from the bush but that didn't stop her heart from pounding fifty miles an hour. Stanley's puffy lips turned up into a smile as he grabbed hold of her hand, reassuring her that it was alright.

"Sorry," Quinn apologized and under his gaze, blushed. He was the only one that had ever made her blush and she didn't know how to act.

"It's fine. Come on, we're almost there." They continued to walk, neither one talking about their shared moment just a few steps ago and fell into a silence before Stanley broke it. "You know, as a man, I don't claim him as part of my gender."

Quinn chuckled. "'As a man,' huh?"

Stanley scoffed in shock. "I am eighteen. Legally I am a man. And I look like one, too." He flexed his muscles.

Quinn let her eyes sweep over his body. "Whatever you say, pretty boy."

"Pretty man," Stan corrected with a smile and Quinn just rolled her eyes.

[artificialqueens]

Pressed for Time (Branjie) - Anonymous

A/N: This is part of a larger verse I cooked up in order indulge my love of all of the most cliched tropes in existence. All you really need to know right now is that Brooke owns a burlesque club and Vanessa is a college senior. There will probably be more of this verse, hopefully some backstory coming soon! I just have a habit of skipping to the porn. Helps me get the feel of the world.

This whole thing is a direct result of the fact that Brooke refuses to stop calling herself mommy on Twitter. Does she know what that’s doing to us? Does know she’s killing me? Does she care?

CW for mommy kink, D/s dynamics, public sex, and mild exhibitionism.

This story is also on AO3, if that’s your preferred viewing method: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19069117

—

“Hey baby girl.”

Vanessa starts at the voice in her ear, but quickly relaxes as Brooke’s arms slide around her waist.

“Hiya hot stuff…”  Vanessa says, craning her head back to plant a kiss on Brooke’s jaw. “You looked good up there.” Brooke didn’t perform much nowadays; the day to day operations of the club are more than a full time job. It’s nice to see her on stage, though, in her element. It’s where she belongs.

Vanessa turns, stepping back to give her a once-over. The purple caftan with the gold bikini is always a crowd pleaser. She looks like an actual goddess in it, the chiffon flowing behind her, her body moving like water, absolutely commanding the attention of the room. Vanessa doesn’t get out to the club as much as she’d like anymore, but it’s fun, sometimes, to sit in a room full of people who are equally as captivated by Brooke’s every move as she is. It reminds her that she’s not insane; Brooke really is that good.

With Vanessa in her scuffed up Converse and Brooke in 5 inch stilettos, Brooke towers over her, even more than normal. It makes Vanessa feel tiny, makes her wish Brooke would maybe move a little closer, maybe press her back against a wall, cage her in, pin her like a butterfly… she catches herself chewing on her lip, breath quickening in the space between them.

Twirling a strand of long, white blonde hair in her fingers, Brooke purses her lips knowingly, eyes twinkling.

Stepping closer, she reaches out and curls her long, slender fingers around Vanessa’s hips, pulling her in so Vanessa has to crane her neck to look at her.

“How much time you got before you’re up again?” Vanessa asks, her whole body heating up. She’s already turned on and Brooke hasn’t even done anything.

Brooke shrugs, “Long enough to get you off and maybe answer a few emails.”

Vanessa’s breath leaves her in a gust, “Not gonna take me long.”

Grinning, Brooke takes her hand, pulling her down the hallway towards the back exit.

“You gonna fuck me in the alley?” Vanessa says, confused, “Let’s go to your office.”

Brooke shakes her head, “Nina’s using it.”

“So? It’s your office!”

“Not when I’m dressed like this it’s not,” Brooke says. “She who runs the show gets the big desk.”

Brooke pokes her head into the main dressing room to grab her phone and tell the other performers that she’s going for some air.

“Let’s go get into trouble, huh?” She smiles, taking Vanessa’s hand and tugging her down the hall, through the heavy metal door and into the dark alley.

The space behind the club is no stranger to a spot of public indecency, so Vanessa is relieved to see that the conveniently located alcove next to the door is unoccupied save for the omnipresent empty condom box and the pair of red panties that have lived there for the past 6 months.

“Now,” Brooke says, her voice taking on that low, stern-edged tone that always makes Vanessa’s knees weak. “Mommy’s got some emails to catch up on, but that’s no reason for you to be ignored, right?” She backs Vanessa into the brick wall, using her height to box her in.

Gasping, Vanessa feels a hand gliding up under her frayed denim skirt, her legs parting almost unconsciously, opening herself up for Brooke’s touch.

“There’s my good girl,” Brooke says with a smile, studying Vanessa’s face as she runs her fingers over the damp cotton of her panties. Vanessa has to bite her lip, trembling, barely able to keep her hips still. She wants to grind down against Brooke’s fingers, but she knows better than to try to dictate the pace.

“Did you get a little hot in there, baby? Did you like watching mommy dance?”

Vanessa nods, a breathless whine escaping her as Brooke starts to stroke her through her panties, fingers playing over her clit, the most infuriating tease.

“You looked so sexy, mommy…” Vanessa says, scraping her nails over the brick behind her, grasping at the last tendrils of her self-control.

Brooke glances at her phone, “Fuck, I’ve got like five minutes.” She says, pulling Vanessa’s panties to the side and pressing two fingers against her clit, rubbing in circles. “Tell mommy what you want, baby,” she scrolls through her inbox and selects an email, then turns her eyes back to Vanessa’s flushed face. “Do you need to be fucked?”

Vanessa’s whole body burns at the question, at the thought of Brooke’s fingers inside her, at how much she needs it. The fact that she’s soaking Brooke’s hand should be answer enough, but she knows it’s not.

“Yeah,” she starts, her voice low and breaking. She clears her throat, “Yeah, mommy, I fuckin’ need it so bad… please?”

Brooke’s eyes are on her phone again, but she smiles.

“Good girl,” she says, as two of her long fingers plunge unceremoniously into Vanessa’s pussy.

“Fuck,” Vanessa whines, clenching around the sudden intrusion and then quickly melting into it, rolling her hips against Brooke’s hand. Brooke wastes no time, pumping in and out at a pace that makes Vanessa’s head spin, the slick sound of it amplified in the small space.

“So wet for mommy,” Brooke murmurs, eyes on her phone and a smirk on her lips. She gives a particularly deep thrust, wiggling her fingers and causing a full body shudder. “You were a good girl today, huh?”

Vanessa nodded, heat pooling in her belly. They don’t have any permanent rules, mostly because Vanessa can’t remember to follow them, but Brooke did like to forbid her from touching herself every now and then, when the mood struck her. Never more than a few days, but that’s a lifetime for a girl like Vanessa. She’s got needs.

“Mommy’s good girl,” Brooke says, and there’s the wooshing sound of an email being sent, and then Brooke tucks her phone into the strap of her bra, turning her full attention to Vanessa. She’s opening her mouth to speak when the door swings open.

“Brooke?” Comes Nina’s voice, an edge of panic there that only a stressed out stage manager could possess.

“Over here!” Brooke calls cheerfully, and Vanessa groans, burying her face in Brooke’s neck. She knows she’s all but invisible behind her, but she’s also acutely aware of Brooke’s hand between her legs, which has barely slowed, fingers still thrusting, that obscene noise still echoing off the alcove walls.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Brooke!” Nina exclaims as she rounds the corner. “I need you in costume for the next number in three minutes or I swear to god–”

“Oh, this won’t take long,” Brooke replies, smiling over her shoulder at Nina. As she speaks, she presses the heel of her hand against Vanessa’s clit, and it’s all she can do to keep from screaming, rolling her hips against the pressure, fucking herself that much harder onto Brooke’s fingers. “See?”

Nina gives a longsuffering sigh and turns back towards the club. “Have fun, Vanjie,” she calls as the door closes behind her.

Brooke turns back to Vanessa, meeting her eyes with an intensity that makes her feel like she’s paralyzed. Being the focus of Brooke’s full attention is dazzling, even overwhelming at times. She has the ability to reduce Vanessa to incoherency with nothing but a look in her cool grey eyes, a quirk of her beautiful lips, a twitch of one perfectly arched brow. Vanessa couldn’t be more smitten if she tried.

“Mommy’s got stuff to do,” Brooke murmurs, running her fingers through Vanessa’s hair with a gentleness that belies the fervor of her other hand, fucking Vanessa so hard and so fast she’d be a puddle on the ground if Brooke wasn’t pinning her to the wall. “You almost there, baby?”

“M'gonna come…” Vanessa whispers, nodding, voice quaking, hands coming to rest on Brooke’s shoulders, gripping the delicate chiffon as hard as she dares. “Oh, fuck, mommy, fuck–”

She has to snake her arms around Brooke’s neck for support as her orgasm hits, rolling over her like a tidal wave, tearing a rough-edged cry from her throat.. Brooke fucks her through it, meeting every jerky motion of Vanessa’s hips, flicking at her clit and smiling when Vanessa lets out a whine, hypersensitive but still eager.

It feels like literal minutes pass before her muscles relax, aftershocks still buzzing through her as she feels Brooke’s long fingers leave her body.

She almost blacks out as she watches Brooke bring her fingers to her lips, sucking on them one at a time, eyes closed, sighing in pleasure.

She opens her eyes with rueful grin. “Well that was just a tease,” she says, grazing her eyes down Vanessa’s body like she’s actually trying to calculate if she has enough time to eat her out before she has to be on stage.

The door creaks open again.

“Brooke Lynn Hytes, if you’re not in that fucking leotard in thirty seconds you’re going to have to hire a new stage manager.”

“And you know how much I hate interviews,” Brooke says over her shoulder, pressing a quick kiss to Vanessa’s cheek, careful not to smudge her lipstick. She swipes her thumb over Vanessa’s lips, pulling the bottom one down, smiling when she flicks her tongue out at it. “Mommy’s sweet girl.”

With that, she turns and heads back into the building. Vanessa hears her heels clicking down the hall until the door closes with a bang, and then there’s nothing but the relative silence of the alley. She tries to push herself off the wall, but finds her knees can’t support her.

She’s gonna need a minute.

[manifestoonmoralmanlove]

Soulless Riffing: Brainless Epilogue

I got a supernatural action/romance book series as a gift that’s just riddled with stuff that I hate….and as a steampunk Victorian London action romance story filled with werewolves and vampires…it’s yeah gonna be easy to poke fun at.

I just want to say, it’s totally cool if you like this story or ones like it!  It’s certainly a better caliber than a lot of what I make fun of…however…I can’t help but want to make fun of it.

Over here for the 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7+8, 9, 10+11, 12, 13, and 14.

HERE’S THE FINAL CHAPTER, STRAP IN MY HEARTIES!

Epilogue

So, dang, this epilogue’s pace is the worst.  It’s so bad, if I recounted the events in the order they appeared I feel as if this riff would have a bad pace itself.  

So there’s this detached, braggadocios tone that describes two separate portions of the wedding in two totally separate parts of chapter.  I can boil it down to this actual quote, “The wedding was hailed as a masterpiece of social engineering and physical beauty.”

It starts off with almost an entire page of describing the dress.  I mean sure, but fashion isn’t my thing so my eyes glaze over.  Also that they had to redesign the dress at the last minute cause Maccon gave her a hickey that needed to be hid.  And I mean, isn’t that what we need to educate our young women about?

Man’s every careless sexual impulse needs to be catered to even if it greatly inconveniences everyone else. Why can’t you just cover it up with make-up?  Why is this adult novel treating a marriage of adults like a middle-school dance? WHO KNOoooOoOoooOooOOOWS?????

BUT THIS WAS ALL FOR THE BETTER cause the neckline of her dress inspired London’s fashion for a whole 3 weeks.  

Here’s an accurate attempt at me trying to understand this, “I guess it’s nice to have rich idiots incinerate and rebuild their wardrobe because of a thing you wore once.  But why stop there? I’d create an army of genderqueer flannel-babies out to hate read harmless fiction.”  Yes Faps, your interests are clearly superior to those who like to dress feminine.  Way to go!

We have a full page on the food which was more interesting but in a limited way because I have not had guinea fowl, aspic jelly, pigeons, sole, woodcock pie, pheasant, or grouse. But like, I’m not uncultured or anything! I’ve had alligator meat before! ….oh damn my American is showing real bad right now. DON’T MIND ME I’M JUST GOING TO HIDE BEHIND A WALL OF IMPERIALISTIC WAR CRIMES! But that’s okay cause the British can relate to that.

Personally I’d much rather the story brag about delicious food it’s likely the audience has had before, than just throwing out stuff that sounds period appropriate.  Cause honestly? My imagination does not think any of that would be tasty.   My dream wedding is definitely forcing near a thousand people (most of whom I’ve met only once) to pick at gamey meat and envy my dedication to an inconsiderate buffoon.

But before the wedding officially goes down we have the one and only nice scene.  Alexia wakes up Akeldama early so he can see the sunset before her wedding.  There was no reason for her to do it that day, since it made her late to her own wedding, but dangit it was nice.

However the actual wedding? Phew boy, there is no talk of the actual ceremony.  In fact there’s no cute speeches, dancing, bonding moments between friends or family, or even funny drama of the werewolves clashing with the humans.  I mean it would have been super annoying to have a scene where Alexia’s sister shrieks at one of the werewolves for drinking punch out of a bowl like a dog, and when she tries to rip it from him it spills all over herself.  Cause there’s no reason to cathartically enjoy seeing her sister humiliated but dang…it would have at least been SOMETHING ALMOST FUN!

Three things happened during the reception.

1.)    Alexia and Prof. Lyall hook Ivy up with some BARELY named servant to Maccon and Lyall. Like, you realize the trope of shacking up the side characters is supposed to be this cute little tying together of established characters, usually very different ones? Like it’s supposed to kinda help wrap things up by having separate parts of the story literally cum errr I mean come together.  Like, the obvious and decent choice, would have been Lyall and Ivy.  Hell if you needed Lyall for other nonsense, why not that Haverblink hunk guy Ivy was I THINK drooling over?  Took a fun trope and wasted it.

2.)    Alexia is ~gifted~ the Vampire hive servant Angelique.  Gosh I’m super looking forward to the part where Angelique realizes vampires are chumps and betrays them for the super cool Alexia.  I thought since she was named and pleading with Alexia for help earlier, she’d be damsel’d, or comes back later with more secret info, or was the villain mastermind AFTERALL! NOPE!  This human person with a name, hopes, fears, goals, thoughts, and emotions of her own is given like a decorative silverware basket as a GOD DAMN WEDDING GIFT! AND ALEXIA THINKS THAT’S FINE CAUSE TO HER HUMAN BEINGS ARE PROPERTY AND SHE’S OUR RACISM FIGHTING HERO! HOORAY!

3.)    Sorry to save the most tepid for last but the last thing of note is that Maccon’s werewolf pack, as part of werewolf tradition turn into wolves and just circle around them barking and howling….okay cool cool…but have you considered the more wolf thing to do would totally be for all of them to pee on her. ONE AT A TIME, THEY’RE CIVILIZED!  Her new husband gets all offended that she’s upset at this wholesome tradition.  Alexia secretly plots to bring supernatural genocide back into vogue again.

So on the carriage ride home they fuck but we have an entire book worth of build up for this scene to last 1 page.  Like, I wasn’t even looking forward to it but was still disappointed.  And, of course, this is one of those books that can’t directly mention SEX PARTS which SPOILER ALERT usually makes it confusing if you can’t be fucking straightforward.  Despite being all coy about it there’s the iffy phrase, “had Alexia squirming in such a way as to force the very tip of him inside her whether she willed it or no.”

Yeesh! As hot as you folks may find ravishment, it feels really out of place with a woman who’s supposed to be super horny and into her husband for it to still be written noncommittally like ravishment.

But with a lurch of the carriage he’s blamo balls deep and she says out loud that it hurts.  He DOES look worried and ask her if it still does. So kudos!  However there’s this infuriating line

“Something extremely odd and tingly was beginning to occur in her nether regions.”

Okay you weren’t aroused until he was balls deep, and we’re going to describe this as if a 26 year old woman (whom by the way has described being aroused by this man before, and describes being fascinated with her dad’s dirty books) is bamboozled that a dick in her made her horny.      

(Man looking confused and a bit suspect as he says okay.)

Also “It culminated in the most intriguing second heartbeat emerging around the area where he had impaled himself.”

WHAT!? YOU CAN’T SAY PUSSY BUT WE’RE GOING TO THROW THE WORD IMPALED IN THERE?

(Brittney Spears looking cringed out.)

That gives me the yikes.

She flops over after what sounds like 2 minutes of porking to remark, “Ooo,” said Alexia, fascinated, “it shrinks back down again.  The books didn’t detail that occurrence.”

OKAY 1ST OF ALL YOU LEGIT SAW THIS HAPPEN BEFORE WHEN YOU WERE DRY-HUMPING IN THE DUNGEON, BUT EVEN IF YOU HADN’T, WAS SHE UNDER SOME DELUSION THAT WHEN A DUDE GETS HIS 1ST BONER THAT’S JUST WHAT HIS DICK IS NOW?

YOU’D THINK CODPIECES WOULD STILL BE IN FASHION IF EVERY MAN IS SLINGING AROUND HIS ERECTION 100% OF THE TIME!

WHY ARE YOU SO FUCKING STUPID ALEXIA!?

If you wanted a cute little sexy thing to mention…why not, “Oh my dad’s books never mentioned that it throbbed! Or that it could twitch! Or that it got SO red! Or that it got THAT hard, it’s only full of blood afterall!”

LE SIGH!

So the story ends with the prospect of them gonna fuck sum more.

Say something Nice Faps:

I legit really liked that brief scene where she holds Lord Akeldama’s hand as they watch the sunrise, and he’s crying, and she’s got her head on his shoulder and just PRECIOUS!

Out of the things to brag about at a wedding, food is the top of my list, I can appreciate that she dedicated some time to it.

The sex had a bit of that ravishment flavor but Maccon does check in, and she admits she enjoys it.

IT’S OVER!

[yesterdaysjam1]

The Idea

“El! You can’t just decide this all on your own!” Mike practically yelled. Actually, he WAS yelling. He couldn’t remember the last time he was this angry...maybe when his parents refused to “let” him marry El or probably when he had found out Hopper had hidden El from him for almost a year (he still hadn’t let that go).

“Mike,” El said calmly in that voice of hers. “Just listen to me.”

“Yeah Mike, just listen to her.” Dustin added.

Mike glared at Dustin who decided that it was better he kept his mouth shut.

“Ok,” Mike managed to spit out through clenched teeth.

El smiled, that was all the encouragement she needed. She knew this was the best for everyone and all they needed was for Mike to approve.

“Well,” El began, taking a deep breath. “I didn’t exactly decide this on my own.”

“El...what did you do?” Mike groaned.

“Nothing bad!” She quickly clarified. “I guess I just have to show you,” she sighed.

“Does this mean I need to leave you two alone? Because if you guys start making out in front...” Dustin asked.

“No!” El cut him off. “You’re kind of ruining this, Dustin.”

“I’m ruining it? You’re the one with the stupid idea that’s gonna get us all killed!” Dustin yelled.

“Hey! It’s not stupid!” Mike suddenly yelled out of habit of sticking up for his wife.

El’s eyes widened with hope. Mike quickly clarified, “I mean, it’s still dangerous.”

“Mike, you are such a pussy!” Dustin exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air.

“Don’t call him that!” El jumped in.

“You were literally just telling me to listen to her!”

“Yeah well...” and Dustin really didn’t have anything to say because he HAD just told Mike to listen to El.

“GUYS!” a voice behind them suddenly yelled.

Dustin and Mike gasped as they turned to face their best friend Lucas. Lucas walked into the tiny apartment with Max and Will following behind him!

For a moment, no one said anything and then all of sudden it was a tangle of arms and elbows colliding, screams and whoops, and hugs and kisses (because it had been a REALLY long time). And “Look, it’s Mr. El Hopper-Wheeler! (Max to Mike) And “That’s a terrible suit, you look terrible. I’m so happy to see you.” (Mike to Lucas) And “Dustin, you can let us go now.” (Will to Dustin)

When they had all finally settled down, Mike realized they had forgotten about why everyone was here.

“Ok, El, you’ve got some explaining to do.” He nudged her with his toe. She was laying on the floor talking to Max and Dustin laying next to her. They looked like they were 14 again, spending hours in his basement just talking.

El looked over at Lucas, who was sitting next to him on the couch. Lucas nodded at her and at Will who was to Mike’s right.

“Listen Mike,” Lucas began.

3 days earlier

El Hopper-Wheeler (she hadn’t fully changed her last name) finally arrived at her tiny apartment in Dorchester area of Boston. The neighborhood was somewhat safe (ok it wasn’t safe at all) and their apartment could be considered charming (it was a shithole) and the rent was affordable (it wasn’t). But despite everything, El loved the little haven she and Mike had created for themselves.

El couldn’t wait to see Mike. It had been a long and painful day. Most days as a social worker were like this for her. It broke her heart to see the kinds osituations her kids (she considered them hers) were in and it made her, if not appreciate, at least be grateful that she had survived her childhood in the lab without too much lasting damage.

Every time she saw an orphaned child or one that had been abused, she remembered that she had been saved. Her life after the lab had been good, in fact, the BEST, more than she could have ever hoped for. She knew that some of her kids wouldn’t have a Mike or Hopper or Joyce even to save them like she did. It made her work even harder to make sure they were cared for and placed with loving families.

El entered their apartment to find her husband hunched over his computer desk, muttering to himself. She put away her coat (it was freezing this October), walked over to him in their makeshift office (it was supposed to be a dining room).

She wrapped her arms around him from behind and squeezed. She barely got to the top of his head now and she swore he hadn’t stopped growing even though they were both 24 now.

He slightly turned to look at her, surprised, “Hey! When did you get in?”

“Just now,” she smiled at him and gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

“Well your nose is all runny,” he laughed as he kissed her red nose.

“Yeah well yours doesn’t look so good either,” she laughed back as she turned his chair and sat on his lap.

His arms wrapped around as she settled in closer to him. “How are you feeling?” She asked.

“Better.” He had been recovering from a cold and El had forced him to finally take a day off threatening to call his slavedriver boss herself.

“Better enough for...” she trailed off with a smile. He grinned back as he leaned in and covered her lips with his own.

He pulled back, “I’m always ‘better’ for that Mrs. Hopper-Wheeler.”

And she smiled at her last name. She had thought Mike would be upset at her request but he was just all too happy that she had agreed to marry him. El leaned in this time and pressed her lips against Mike’s as she moved to straddle his lap, Mike moaning with pleasure in response.

She loved these moments the best in their tiny apartment, tangled in Mike’s arms, making out like they were still teenagers. Only this time, Hopper wouldn’t keep interrupting them.

“What the hell! Do you two ever stop?” A voiced behind them groaned.

Now they had Dustin Henderson interrupting them all the time.

El and Mike ignored him as they continued making out.

“Just great, and right in front of my salad too!” Dustin complained as he sat down in front his own computer desk, chomping on his salad.

“I swear, you two have your own bedroom to make out in! I’m the one that sleeps in that closet we call a den.” Dustin continued complaining.

They still ignored him. El managed to move even closer to Mike as she continued to kiss him.

“I’m moving out the second I get my paycheck next week! Do you hear me? Do you guys have any idea what you’ve done to my love life? No one wants to hang out here and watch you two make out like your sixteen instead the couple that’s been married for 6 years!” Dustin continued to complain with a mouthful of lettuce leaves, as he typed into his computer.

He threw a baby carrot at the couple when it stopped mid-air and aimed for his mouth. Dustin dodged the carrot and yelled, “Nice try, El!”

El and Mike finally broke apart and El moved off of Mike, “I’m sorry Dustin, please don’t move out.” El said unenthusiastically. Dustin threatened to move out like 5 times a day but he never did. And they wouldn’t let him if he tried.

The three of them had been living together ever since they had moved to Boston, after graduating from high school. Mike and El had gotten married the summer after high school, much to the Wheelers’ disapproval. They had refused to help support the newlyweds who were moving to Boston. Mike had gotten accepted to MIT on a full scholarship and so did Dustin.

El had managed to get accepted to the University of Massachusetts with a full scholarship as well and Mike still hadn’t known how that happened. He loved her but she hadn’t been the best student, being so far behind. He hadn’t questioned it much because it meant they could be in Boston together and he REALLY wanted to marry her.

Unfortunately, their scholarships didn’t cover room and board and Mike’s parents had refused to help. Hopper and Joyce helped with what they could but they also were sending Will to New York who had gotten accepted to Parsons School of Design.

Dustin had given them the idea to get an apartment together. With their part-time jobs, they would be able to afford it.

El wanted Lucas and Max to join them too. But Lucas, who had gotten accepted to MIT as well, wanted to go to Georgetown University. He wanted to become a lawyer. And they had all eventually stopped hounding him when he kept giving them excellent arguments for why he should go to Georgetown and not MIT. He was going to make an amazing lawyer.

Max had decided to go to San Diego State University so she could be with her dad. This saddened El deeply because Max had become her other best friend. But she understood why Max wanted to go even if it meant being across the entire country. What she didn’t understand was why Max and Lucas broke up before they left for university.

“Why don’t you just get married like me and Mike?” El asked.

“Mike and I” they had both corrected her.

“See, you guys are so alike!” El pointed out.

They had both sighed and explained to her separately that it was going to be hard to make a long distance relationship work.

El didn’t get it. Just because they couldn’t see each other didn’t mean they stopped loving each other right? But they hadn’t listened to her and broke up anyway.

Mike and El loved living with Dustin. He was an amazing cook and always had something baking in their oven. He told the best stories and they loved hearing about his dating life. It’s what kept them young and unlike an “old, married couple”. Dustin was glad too that he had someone to go home too, even though he spent most of his time complaining.

They all hadn’t realized how quickly 4 years had gone by. They all had managed to meet up at least once a month, minus Max who they saw at Christmas and for a few weeks in the summer. But the meet ups kept becoming more and more infrequent. Classes had gotten tougher and all of them were focused on their future.

Still El made it a point call Max, Lucas, and Will (who was now living with Johnathon and Nancy). She even called Steve Harrington who had managed to become a doctor! He was a surgeon at in a hospital in Seattle.

She also made it a point to ask Mike every week when he would be able to build the technology that would allow her to send messages to all her friends and family at once. “Not for another 5-10 years,” he’d respond everytime.

El had gotten a degree in Public and Community Service and knew she wanted to be a social worker. Mike and Dustin had graduated with top honors in Computer Programming and had gotten job offers with a leading tech firm and they started to actually make a decent living. Lucas had immediately started law school at Georgetown Law and Max, always good with numbers, had moved to New York to work on “Wall Street”, whatever that was. Will was still in New York, living as a “starving artist” and had offered to be Max’s roommate.

El was just happy that her best friend was on the same side of the planet again. The hangouts had started up again and everyone made more of an effort to see each other. El even suspected that Max and Lucas had started dating again but they both swore they were still “just friends”.

Unfortunately, like before, their meetups became less and less while everyone had decided that making money, law school, and art were more important.

El made enough money that she was content but she didn’t really care about it. Money is what the bad men wanted. She wanted to help people.

Unfortunately money is what Mike and Dustin needed in order to start their own company. They had an idea to create video game but they didn’t have the resources. So they saved whatever they made that their 60 hour a week job and they had all decided to stay in that tiny apartment until they had saved enough.

So here they were. The last time everyone had seen each other was at Lucas’ law school graduation, 5 months ago. Max and Will were still in New York. El, Mike, and Dustin were getting by, saving every penny, surviving on ramen and salads. Unless. El had an idea.

“Hey Mike,” El called out. It was Mike’s turn to make dinner and he had gotten up to boil the ramen.

“Yeah babe?” Mike called back from the cramped kitchen.

El felt bad for lying but she had a brilliant plan, “I got a call from Hawkins. Hop and Joyce need me.”