#so i just bashed out some words until the juices started flowing

[storms-path]

FFXIV Write 2023 Day 9 - Fair

“THE GODS WILL BEAR WITNESS TO OUR PERFORMANCE!”

SEE THE ILLUSTRIOUS WANDERING MINSTREL PERFORM THE BALLAD OF SHINRYU’S DOMAIN LIVE IN PERSON

RELIVE THE STUNNING BATTLE OF ALA MHIGO AND THE CLASH BETWEEN WARRIORS OF LIGHT AND CROWN PRINCE

50 gil per entrant, recording devices and linkpearls will be confiscated

Arashi stared at the hastily scrawled poster in front of her, head in hands. “Really?” she muttered. “Of all the people you could hire as the centrepiece of this festival, he was your choice?”

Arenvald at least had the kindness to look remorseful. “Actually, he came to us when he heard about the project,” he said. “He said he wanted nothing more than to help people remember the tale of their liberation. And their liberator,” he added sheepishly.

As if Arashi needed the reminder. Five years since her confrontation with Zenos at the end of time and space had been host to a great deal of adventures, but her first fateful battle with the crown prince and his captive Primal was as clear to her as it was when she had taken her first steps into the Royal Menagerie. She must have been frowning as the memories played out, for her return to reality was greeted with Arenvald’s worried features.

“I can have alternative arrangements made, if it’s too much for you!” He limped over to put a reassuring hand on Arashi’s shoulder. Arashi tried to ignore the shaking running through his body. Arenvald had regained the use of his legs in the intervening years, but he would never fight again, and walking was still very much an effort of will. Fordola, who had been keeping diplomatically (or disinterestedly) silent until that point, rolled her eyes and strode over to her companion.

“No, you won’t. We spent a small fortune on the rest of this already. Or did you forget the sleepless nights you spent counting out every last coin to balance the books?” Fordola’s cast-iron stare told Arashi that the issue was not negotiable. Many others would have been intimidated by the woman, but Arashi was merely relieved. So many people treated her as some mythical hero who could do no wrong. It was refreshing to remember that Fordola was not one of them.

Still, it wouldn’t do to risk her ire without cause. Particularly not with Arenvald present. The poor man didn’t need more worries. Arashi held up her hands in what she hoped was a concillatory gesture. “Fine, fine. I’ll not argue his presence, or his choice of song. Just so long as I’m not obligated to appear.”

Arvenvald’s face was a picture of relief. “Good! Of course, we’ll not be expecting you to do anything of the sort. This is a celebration of everyone’s efforts to liberate Ala Mhigo, after all. Though if you were to make a guest appearance…” Arenvald trailed off at the flat stare he received. “Or maybe not.” Arenvald allowed Fordola to guide him to one of the nearby chairs, settling heavily on the wooden frame. “I’ll get this properly finalised and drafted for Commander Hext. See you at the fair!”

Arashi smiled and inclined her head. Fordola grunted in response. Then Arashi was out the doors and into the glorious midday heat of Ala Mhigo. Perhaps it would be prudent to drop in and have a private chat with “Commander” Hext, just to make certain that her presence would not be required on stage with the minstrel. Then again, perhaps not. Lyse would never conspire such a thing, but Fareena was visiting and she most certainly would. Particularly since she was most displeased at not being offered a teaching position in Arashi’s fledgling school.

Yes, perhaps it would be best to just let Arenvald alone and enjoy the fruits of his-

“-labour to free the good people of this nation from their cruel oppressors! I give you all, ARASHI WASHI!”

The announcer’s voice boomed into the open air, magically enhanced to spread far and wide so that even those in the very back of the amphitheatre would hear him. It was, unfortunately, a packed crowd.

Arashi didn’t know who had put the idea in the minstrel’s head. It could have been Fareena, nursing a grudge and seeking petty revenge. It could have been Stalwart, who had also been a guest of honour in one of the previous performances. Or it could have been her dear sister, who had front row seats with Lyse, Arenvald and Fordola, the last of which was actually smiling for once.

Arashi, thankfully, was not alone backstage. Beside her was an equally uncomfortable Raubahn, dressed in an exaggerated version of his old war gear. M’naago, on the other hand, looked practically giddy to take her place on stage, dressed in Resistance finery that had clearly been cleaned and polished recently. It turned out she had something of a flair for theatrics when not bound by duty.

Arashi herself was dressed in her old armour, restored for just this occasion. Well, restored in appearance. Careful application of glamour hid the rips and tears from her trip to the end of the universe. It would be enough for the show, and that was all they needed. Arashi turned back to see M’naago swatting Raubahn’s hand away from his helmet, only to turn her attention on her observer. She made an impatient shooing motion, urging Arashi onto the stage. With a resigned sigh, Arashi stepped forward.

Five years on and Arashi still couldn’t handle the cheers. The roar of the crowd drowned out her thudding heart, her hesitant footsteps. Why are you all cheering me? All I did was fight a dragon. It should have been Lyse up on stage, or Alphinaud, or Krile, or Thancred, or anyone else. The people who had risked life and limb to gather the information they needed to assault the palace. The people who had suffered sleepless nights drawing up stratagems and tactics to outwit the Empire. The people who had really made a difference.

But then Arashi caught sight of another familiar face, towards the back of the crowd. A roegadyn woman, covered in scars and looking distinctly uncomfortable to be there. Flowing Lily. Her first student, and deeply uncomfortable among crowds. She never spoke of the reason why, but she always avoided them wherever possible. She was staring into the middle distance, but then their eyes locked and her face split into an impossibly earnest smile. Then she was cheering with the rest of them, her voice carrying clear across the crowd and to the stage.

Arashi took courage from the gesture. If Lily could conquer her fears and doubts, so could she. The Warrior of Light strode forward with a smile, waving to the adoring crowd. If the people needed her to be a hero again for a day, she would play the part as best she could. It was an old mask, but it still fit.

[pearlwithgirl]

A Man and His Favourite Toy

Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish x f!reader

Fluffy smut - 1130 words

~

Some sweet Soap rambles before I go to sleep.

You’re like his favourite toy in the world.

He’s evolved in nearly every way. Lots of things are left behind, some are changed or swapped out for the better, but many simply morph.

Some things stuck around, ebbing and flowing and changing with growth - surging back tenfold when you strolled into his life.

Apples and cinnamon, steeped and stewed, gone smoky and sharp. Still comfortable, still warm - much more substance. Enrichment, nostalgia, ringing laughter.

He wants to roll and gallivant around with you until he’s dewy and ruddy-cheeked. Huffing and puffing, flopping back on soft grass or cotton-covered down to cock his head and lock heart-filled eyes.

There’s nobody to tell him he’s had his fill anymore, nobody to nag him about how he needs to share - god forbid. No chance in hell his hands could be wrenched away from you. Only you, and you’re begging, mewling softly with furrowed brows and pouty lips.

He has you clutched tight, fingertips gone white from the force of his heady desperation - cold, scuffed plastic traded up for soft, divoted flesh. He’s nearly in a trance, enthralled like he’s parked in front of a flickering screen.

You buck your hips up at him and his lashes flutter, gaze dropping down briefly. He looks back up at you with a bashful smile.

“Sorry, doll. I just like lookin’ at ya.” Johnny murmurs, eyes half-lidded. He’s so hungry.

He peels away lilac silk, patting your hip to get you to arch up, letting his touch linger before yanking your shorts off. It’s like unwrapping something sweet, tearing away crinkled foil to get to the soft centre, dripping with honey. He’ll gorge himself on you.

He licks a long stripe through your folds, drool mixing with warm nectar. A crystalline drop hangs from his pink tongue, sharp canines just above, revealed by a grin.

He’s teasing you now, but only for a moment. Only to take in that needy expression before his eyes fall shut and he goes dumb off your pussy. He gathers more of your wetness, sloppy and careless about making a mess. The messier the better, as far as he’s concerned - it’s what you deserve.

The closely shorn hair tickles your thigh as leans onto it, glassy eyes roving up your belly, past your soft tits, locking gazes again. Meeting his baby blues, you nod.

“Please.”

No need to ask twice.

Johnny drags his fingers up the rift at the junction of your thighs, spreading you open. He could crumble right then and there, could dive in and never come up to breathe. You’re glistening with mixed juices, wet and inviting.

He circles your hole and you twitch, chasing him. As if he could keep you waiting any longer when you look like that. That breath you’ve been holding is released as he dips a calloused finger into you, palm up. He twitches against his belly, whining into your pulsing cunt.

Slim hips rut into the bed, mirroring the rhythm of yours. He might end up finishing like this, cock sending copious amounts of spend onto the duvet while you throb against his greedy mouth. He’s just been waiting so long, stuck in a shitty little cabin and damned to weeks of abstinence. It’s laundry night anyway.

“I need more.” You plead.

He adds another finger - it’s not enough. You deserve everything, and he’ll start with turning you into a writhing mess.

So he leans down and seals his lips around your twitching bud, massaging that swollen pearl with a practiced tongue. He licks and suckles and sends you into a rosy-tinted haze. You can still taste the strawberries from dessert, but that’s not where the saccharinity is coming from.

You don’t even know how long he’s been at it. Neither of you do - you’re swimming in syrup. Everything could be a husk beyond the bay window, lake dried up, long turned to dust outside the rain speckled pane while the seconds on the heirloom clock ticked away and away and away - it wouldn’t even matter. There’s only one thing you two are focused on, and it’s fast approaching.

You look away from his flickering tongue, over his bobbing head, and past the rippling muscles of his shoulder. His brawny thighs are twitching, one knee braced to the side to help him cant his hips into the soft fabric.

This might be your favourite tune - the syncopated patter of tiny droplets and the lewd squelch of his crooked fingers, beckoning you forth to a steep precipice. His sounds are the best part - muffled by the heat of your cunt, reedy and wavering, pleasure-drunk. They reverberate all the way through you.

You’re ready to careen right off that ledge. You spread your trembling thighs even wider, reaching down to find his free hand, and he gladly receives it, intertwining your fingers.

He squeezes a little harder when he feels the intricately knotted silver. You got that one a day after the first time he buried his tongue in you. It’s stacked on top of a little jewelled ring - that one came after he took you to a lookoff and sunk his cock into you. He can still remember your cries of pleasure as you clung to him on a checked wool blanket, how the sun bounced off your hair as it blazed deep orange on the horizon. He was hooked.

That might be the thought that’s sending him over the edge right now. His groans send vibrations through his tongue as his brows draw together and the rhythm of his hips begins to jolt and stutter. You’re gonna fall with him.

He meets your eyes again. You know he wants to see you clearly as you suffer that little death together. You heave a great shuddering breath, exsanguinated, all your shared blood rushed down south. Your whole body tenses up, and you buck up onto his mouth as he grinds further into the bed.

Johnny grinds, and he takes and he takes until your heels are digging into the bedding, fingers curled into the stripe of hair on his head.

He pulls off of you, face glistening, tongue darting over his lips. He was always told not to be wasteful. He presses a soft kiss right above your clit and drags his tongue along the seam of your cunt once more as he rubs a soothing thumb over the back of your hand.

With one last lap of his tongue and a sloppy kiss goodbye, he parts from your pussy and crawls up to curl into your side. He gives you a kiss of your own, softening cock still twitching against your outer thigh.

He doesn’t really need to say it, to profess the shared feeling - it’s obvious. He does anyway.

“I missed you.”

[thesandsofelsweyr]

REMEMBER JASON TODD?

《 READ ON AO3 》

Joker reminisces to Batman about one of the happiest years of his life: the year he spent breaking Jason Todd.

《RATING》 Mature 《WORDS》 1,865

《CHARACTERS》 Joker, Jason Todd/Robin (Arkhamverse)

《TROPES》 Hurt No Comfort, Jason Todd Needs a Hug

《WARNINGS》 Graphic Depictions of Violence, Underage, Torture, Mindfuck

《NOTES》

I somehow got possessed by a death-worshipping garbage clown and wrote this Jason Todd torture-fest 🃏

If you enjoy the read, please consider reblogging 💚

《 ALSO ON AO3 》 (comments & kudos there are much appreciated!)

Remember Jason Todd? Ugh, what a whiner. Always complaining… We’re both better off without that loser.

I gotta confess though, Bats. Screwing around with his little-kid mind, digging around in his grey matter, stirring it up until Toddy made me look almost sane—that was the happiest I’d been in a long, long time. I’d thank the boy for that, if his brains weren’t splattered all over the basement of Arkham, huhuhu.

Ahh, the memories. I tortured that poor kid for nearly a year. Shattered his ankle, knocked out a few teeth, yanked out a few more, broke a few ribs—well, probably all of his ribs, after it was all said and done. Let’s face it, that pretty red armor of his could only withstand so many beatings before it started wearing down and losing its Bat-tested, Bat-approved effectiveness. Near the end the boy was practically begging me to take it off of him! But, hmm, now that I think of it, that was probably more about his shame over being such a miserable embarrassment to his Batdad and less about its ineffectiveness when I was bashing his skull in with my trusty, rusty crowbar.

Anyway, where was I? Oh yes! I even invited a few of my fellow inmates down to take some shots at the little punk who’d terrorized them at Batman’s side. Man oh man, did those guys hate your jilted sidekick or what? I found myself a teensy-bit envious of all the fun they were having with the kid, especially after seeing Bane slam Toddy’s body into that concrete foundation so hard that I’m pretty sure he left a Robin-shaped dent.

Oh Batsy, you should’ve seen our boy’s face! I’m still kicking myself for not including a photo with your consolation prize. The video I sent you just didn’t do him justice. Your enemies collaborated on a masterpiece, they really did. Vibrant reds and pinks, rich purples, blacks, and blues; so battered and broken, his features all askew—Picasso himself would be in awe of their bloody canvas. They must’ve broken his beak at least a dozen times. By the time they were through with him, you wouldn’t even have recognized the little guy.

But c’mon, be honest. We’ve been buds for so long, you and I. You can trust me with anything—Clown’s honor. Tell me, did you even try to find the kid? I never bought the “World’s Greatest Detective” charade, but you gotta admit Batsy, I made it pretty easy for you. I stashed your Boy Blunder in the most obvious place I could think of. Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t blame you for wanting to delete ol’ Jason from your history. He was a real piece of work, fighting me tooth and nail every chance he got, spitting on my hospitality and me. More of a “rabid dog” than a Robin, if I do say so myself. And that mouth of his, ugh! His mother would thank me for the beatings I gave him if she heard half the things he said to me. A real blight on the house of Bat, that one. This new Robin of yours seems more in line with your legacy. Maybe I’ll get my hands on him someday, tenderize him like I did Toddy, huhu.

Well, whatever your reasons, you gave me ample time to get my creative juices flowing. I’d been itching to try out some new ideas that had been floating around my noggin. I’m sure you’re familiar with the Rack. Sadly, I wasn’t able to procure that particular device for our little bird’s cage, but I’ve always been good at improvising. I read somewhere about this rather nasty technique they used during that delightful period known as the Inquisition. Ahh, the good ole days… when torturing people was a paid profession.

With the help of my pal Boles, we tied the boy’s arms behind his back then strung him up by the wrists. Some Arkham orderlies were kind enough to provide me with some weights, which I tied to his ankles. Must’ve been painful because that was the loudest I’d heard the boy squeal since he dropped in my lap! The pitiful thing was wriggling and writhing like a worm on a hook. I left him dangling like that for a few hours since he seemed to enjoy it so much. Tehehe.

That little device of mine ripped his arms clean out of their sockets, yet the bird still refused to break. He was as defiant as ever, cursing at me between sobs. Talk about loyalty. He was ready to die for you. How do you inspire that kind of devotion from these brats? It’s the car, right? Gotta be that fancy car of yours. Hmm, I should get me a Jokermobile of my own someday. Anyway, Junior wasn’t the sharpest Bat-tool in the Bat-shed. Six months of suffering and he was still convinced you were coming to rescue him. I tried to tell him that you’d moved on with your life, found yourself a new partner who wasn’t such a loser, but he refused to believe me. We’d reached an impasse.

But then—here’s the best part of the story, ooo it gives me chills just thinking about it—then you gave me a gift. You actually did replace the kid with a new one. BWAHAHAHAHA, now that’s my brand of cruelty, Bats—I always knew you had it in ya! After everything I’d done to that poor boy, all it took was a photograph to break your bird into a million little pieces. Yes Batsy, a photo of you and his replacement gallivanting around Gotham, saving the city from crazy men like me.

Oh how he bawled after I showed him that photo! And that was even before I beat him senseless with his favorite crowbar. I pressed that photo into his palm before I left him bleeding on the floor of his cage, and, God love 'em, the dumb kid was still begging for his Bat-daddy to come save him from the evil Clown. “Please forgive me, Batman. I tried to be the partner you wanted, I swear I did. I’m so sorry I disobeyed you. Please don’t let him punish me again. I’ll be a good boy for you, I just wanna come home. Wah-wah-wah, boo-hoo-hoo.” If only I had a heart, it would’ve been broken by his pathetic pleas. But I don’t, so I kept beating him for good measure.

Wee Todders was much more pliable after it finally sank into that thick skull of his that you’d abandoned him. I gotta be honest with you, Bats, you made it so easy for me to make him hate you after that, it almost felt like cheating. Still a rootin’ tootin’ good time though. For me at least. Can’t speak for our dearly departed boy toy.

No wonder you dumped his half of the dynamic duo on my doorstep. Talk about rough edges! Took some blood, sweat, and tears (his, not mine) but I eventually sanded him down and hollowed him out; sculpted him into a partner in crime worthy of the Clown Prince of Crime. Had to teach him some manners first, though. Clearly Emily Post wasn’t included in your crime fighting curriculum. Did no one bother to teach the child any words beyond the four-letter variety? Well, I trained him to address me properly: “yes sir”, “no sir”, “please don’t hurt me sir”—that sort of thing. I find that negative reinforcement works best when it comes to naughty little boys like him: electrocution, sensory deprivation, barbed wire bondage, blunt force trauma, starvation, force-feeding, puncture wounds, power tools, waterboarding, acid trips, acid burns, regular burns, stabbings, stranglings, even good ole fashioned paddlings. By the time I was done with the brat I had him thanking me for yanking out his fingernails with red-hot pincers. 

Jason was some of my finest work to date, if I do say so myself. I transformed your rejected Robin into a perfect pet. The boy was mine, body and soul, but I wanted to make sure he never forgot who he belonged to, who made him who he truly was, made him realize that potential you tried to snuff out. Let me tell you, he was none too happy about being branded like a bull. You’d think the kid’d be more grateful after all the time I spent hunting down a J-shaped branding iron just for him. He didn’t carry on about it for long though. By that point just the sight of my toybox had him cowering in a corner, shivering and whimpering like a kicked puppy with his tail between his legs. 

Speaking of puppies… I even had a collar made for my darling boy, in case my signature on his sweet cheek wasn’t enough. A red leather collar to match that red leather getup. What an adorable sight that was! Him, bruised and scarred from head to toe, down on all fours, staring up at me with those blown out baby blues, full of tears and fear, and dare I say, even affection. That poor kid’s psyche was so twisted by the end that he was clinging to me, clutching at my suit, begging me not to abandon him like you did. Hil-ari-ous! Bless his widdle heart, he was such a good boy by then. I rarely had to punish him but it was just so dang fun I couldn’t resist. I did so well with the little laddy, it got me thinking maybe Harley and I should have a few tykes of our own for me to abuse. But nah, you seem to have so many to spare, I’ll just stick to your brood. Lord knows I don’t want to get saddled with child support—oh the horror!

We had some good times, y’know? Little Toddy-woddy was like a son to me, he really was. He hated you so much it made me one proud papa. It’s a shame I had to put him out to pasture with a bullet through his brain, but he was becoming such a bore. He just didn’t scream as much as he used to—that collapsed lung of his probably had something to do with that. And he was so obedient, so submissive, so utterly desperate to please me… (yawns) If I wanted a vegetable, I would’ve made him a vegetable. This is a nut house after all. Got all the tools I need for a lobotomy right here at home. No, I wanted that ball of wildfire, that feral foul-mouthed urchin I fell in love with! I guess since I’m being honest here, I have only myself to blame. I suppose it’s a lesson to learn for my future bird boy endeavors—you can’t make an omelette without breaking some eggs (and legs) after all.

Welp, no use crying over spilled brain matter! If it’s any consolation to you, my pointy-eared pal, I’ll never forget the kid you gave me and that magical year we spent together. No really, I have a jar full of teeth and fingernails to remember him by! hehehehehehehehe 

[honey-lemon-teashop]

If you're doing the prompts, 36, 102, and 268 with Simeon please 🤲

Okie, so. A few things.

1) I’ve never actually answered an ask on Tumblr, so if the format is off, I AM SO SORRY.

2) I used the prompts, however, I reworded them to fit my writing style, and also make the story flow better. Hope that’s okay!

3) I did make a reference with the safeword. Kudos to you if you know what it’s from!

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

The prompts were

- “Don’t be gentle.”

- “You deserve a reward for being so good today, what would you like it to be?”

- “Even angels can be bad.”

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

You were impressed.

Just before school started, you slipped a buttplug into Simeon, and proceeded to spend the entire day flicking through the different intensities.

You’ve been with Simeon for a little over 6 months, and the longer you were together, the more comfortable he got. And the more comfortable Simeon was, the more vocal he became.

So you were shocked when he was able to keep his whimpers and whines at bay.

Well, expect for when Luke was having him try his new scone recipe, and you turned the vibrator to the highest setting, and he let out a loud moan.

Luckily, he was able to blame it on how ‘heavenly’, the scones tasted, so nothing really became of it.

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

As soon as classes ended, you practically dragged Simeon to your room in the House of Lamentation.

Pinning him against the door, you grabbed his waist, before leaning in.

“You did so well today, Baby Boy. I think you deserve a reward, no?” you cooed, nipping at his earlobe.

You could feel him nodding rapidly.

“Well, Baby, what do you want your reward to be?”

Simeon responded by mumbling something into your shoulder.

“Gonna have to speak up, Angel. Mommy can’t hear you when you mumble.”

He lifted his head, before repeating what he said.

“I was hoping that maybe we could try out the new outfit you bought me?”

“The maid outfit? With the cat ears?”

Shaking his head, Simeon sighed, before quietly muttering, “Schoolgirl one.”

“Ohhhh.” You said. You had bought two outfits off of Akuzon as part of your 6-month anniversary present. You were both so busy cramming for midterms, that you hadn’t had the chance to use them yet.

“Of course we can. Wanna go grab that from your room while I get things ready in here?”

“Yes, please.”

“Always so polite, Baby.” You said, giving him a kiss on the cheek, before moving towards your bed.

“Anything for you, Mommy.” Said Simeon, blushing.

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

10 minutes had passed, and you only had a few minor things to adjust. The only thing missing was Simeon.

A soft knock on the door pulled you from your thoughts.

Speak of the devil. Or, well. Angel, I suppose.

“Come in, Love!”

You could hear quiet shuffling, and the crinkling of a bag, before it went silent.

Turning around, you looked at your boyfriend.

“You wanna go to the bathroom to get changed? I’m just about finished here.”

“Okay.” He said, taking a few steps, before stopping to look at you. “What’s the scene gonna be?”

Pausing, you thought for a minute.

“How about… I’m your professor, and kept you behind because you’re failing my class?”

A small smile spread across Simeon’s face.

“Sounds good to me.”

“Safeword?” You asked.

“Pineapple juice.”

“Okay, now that that’s settled… Go!!” You giggled, pushing him into your bathroom. “I wanna see you in that outfit already!!”

You shut the door, before yelling, “Scene starts when you leave the bathroom, Dollface!”

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

A few minutes later, and a bashful Simeon peeked his head around the door.

“Start?” You reaffirmed.

A thumbs up from Simeon, and you were set.

“Well? Aren’t you going to come in?”

His eyes widened a bit. Glancing down at his outfit, he slowly inched his way into the room.

“Today please, Mr. Simeon.” You said, inspecting your nails.

At your words, Simeon moved forward until he stood directly in front of you.

“Do you know why I called you here, Mr. Simeon?”

Simeon gulped, looking at his feet.

“Yes.”

Reaching out and grabbing his chin, you forced him to meet your gaze.

“Yes, Ma’am.” you said.

“Yes… Yes Ma’am.” He stuttered.

“And why did I call you here?”

“Because… Because I’m failing your class…”

“Correct, Mr. Simeon. I’ve looked over your grades, and after that last exam, I’m afraid I am unable to let you pass.”

“But Ma’am!” Simeon cried, “I need to pass! I can’t fail! Oh, please Ma’am, isn’t there any way I can make it up?”

You raked your eyes over him.

God, you really did a nice job picking out his outfit. A red headband, complete with a bow, sat atop his head. A classic white button up, tied like a bra around his chest, leaving his gorgeous stomach on display. A sleek red tie, done messily around his neck. And riding low on his hips was a skirt. Well, calling it a skirt was giving it a bit too much credit, considering it was barely a scrap of fabric, but it still looked stunning nonetheless. And last but not least- thick, white, thigh-high socks, and a pair of black Mary Janes covering his feet.

It seemed he had also done his makeup at some point- eyeliner and black eyeshadow, paired with a bright red lipstick.

Fuck, how you wanted to ruin him.

Simeon shifted anxiously, clearly waiting for a response.

You slowly stood up, grabbing his waist.

“There is one way…”

“I’ll do it! Thank you, Ma’am! Thank you so much for this opportunity!”

“Fuck, you’re so pretty.” You murmured, gazing steadily into his eyes.

“...Ma’am?” Simeon answered timidly, eyes wide.

You pulled his body flush against yours. A quiet gasp rewarded you for your actions, before you swallowed it with your mouth.

Slowly tracing his lips with your tongue, you squeezed his ass. His mouth opened in a moan, giving you the chance to slip your tongue into his mouth. Gently cupping his jaw, you continued kissing him, before finally parting for air.

Simeon was panting, looking up at you, eyes heavily lidded. You could see a few smudges of lipstick in the area around his lips, making you chuckle.

You pulled away to sit on the bed, making him whine.

“You answered 20 questions incorrect on your last exam, Mr. Simeon. You know this sort of thing can’t go without punishment.”

“But Ma’am, I-”

“No buts. I want you over my knee. Now.”

Simeon seemed to hesitate, before slowly laying himself over your lap.

Grabbing the ruler from the bedside table, you spoke.

“Mr. Simeon, you will be receiving 20 strokes; one for each problem you missed. I want you to count them aloud. If you mess up counting in any way, we’ll start over. Am I clear?”

“...Yes Ma’am.” Simeon muttered.

You grabbed a handful of his hair, yanking it until your eyes met his.

“Louder, Mr. Simeon. I can’t hear you.”

You felt his cock twitch where it rested on your thigh, making you smirk.

“Yes Ma’am!” He said loudly, all the while maintaining eye contact.

“Good.” You said, throwing his head back down. “Let’s get started then, shall we?”

Using the ruler, you flipped his skirt up, revealing his ass.

“Oh?” You said. “What’s this?”

Tracing your fingers along the seam, you admired the white lace thong he wore.

“God, what a slut. It’s like you wanted me to punish you.”

Simeon moaned and wiggled his ass in response.

You ran your palm over him a few more times, before switching back to the ruler.

Bringing your arm back, you let the ruler fall onto his right cheek. Hard.

“Ahh!” Simeon squeaked, jolting forwards on your lap, thighs pressed tightly together.

You waited a moment, before grabbing his hair again.

“What did I just fucking tell you, you useless fucking whore?” You seethed.

You could see Simeon running through his memories, trying to find what he did wrong. It was another moment, before horrified realization flashed across his face.

“...You told me to count,” he said, avoiding your gaze.

“Correct. I didn’t think we would be starting over this soon. After all, aren’t angels supposed to be good at taking directions?”

“I…” He said, looking around wildly.

“I guess angels can be bad, too, huh?”

Simeon only whimpered in response.

You went to strike him again, but paused before you swung.

“Remember to count this time, Mr. Simeon.”

And with that, the ruler went flying down onto his left cheek.

“One!” Simeon said, before he peeked up at you.

“You don’t have to be gentle, you know.” He began. “I can take it.”

“Oh really?” You said with a laugh. “You’ll regret saying that, Mr. Simeon.”

You swung again, and again, and again.

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

“Thirteen, foURTEEN, FIFTEEN!” Simeon squealed, as you landed three harsh slaps in rapid succession.

Running the ruler over the marks, you spoke.

“Only a few more to go, Mr. Simeon, and then you’ll be done.”

Sighing in relief, Simeon let his head hang briefly.

Your next hit was hard- the hardest yet- and it landed directly on the skin where his ass met his thighs.

“SEVENTEEN!” He cried, biting his lip.

“God, what a dumb little angel you are, Mr. Simeon.” You tutted.

Simeon’s eyes flew open, and his head whipped around to face you. He looked at you in confusion.

“What number comes after fifteen, Mr. Simeon?”

He let out a gasp, before frantically trying to explain.

“Ma’am, it’s. I-”

“You knew the rules, Mr. Simeon. Again. From one.”

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

“NINETEEN!”

Simeon was wrecked. Absolutely fucking wrecked.

His ass was a dark red, and covered in welts. His face was pink and blotchy from crying. Eyeliner ran down his cheeks in messy streaks, and there was a huge smear of lipstick on the left side of his face. He was ruined.

But despite everything, his cock laid hot and heavy against your thigh.

Your last hit was a bit lighter than the previous ones, but you made sure to clip his balls in the spank.

“SHIT! OH FUCK. TWENTY. TWENTY TWENTY TWENTY.” he wailed, before cumming all over your lap.

You laughed, grabbing a handful of his ass.

“Did you really just cum from getting spanked?” you said. “You must’ve wanted this pretty damn bad, then.”

You hoisted Simeon up, until he sat straddling your lap. Tilting his chin up, you continued.

“You may have passed the test, but you still have a number of outstanding assignments. And not to mention your horrible attendance.”

He sniffled.

“How can I make it up to you?”

“Well,” you began, “you can start by sucking my strap.”

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

Simeon knew he was in for a long night.

[gxccistyless]

Fine Line: The Divorce Series - Part three.

Here is the last part of fine line - the divorce series.  You can read part one here and part two here

I would LOVE to write some one shots based on Harry and Eliza. Feel free to send in requests!! 

That night after he left Eliza’s  Harry went home and sits in his shower for 45 minutes, he thought about going to the pub and then he thought about going to the liquor store to get a bottle of bourbon to drink it in its entirety all in an attempt to try and forget about the fact that he had just kissed Eliza. Harry decides against it, he calls his sponsor instead, his sponsor came to lend an ear and help him get through the night, without liquor. He and his sponsor had become close, he could trust his sponsor to be there for him without feeling the need to worry about his personal struggles with alcohol being leaked to the press.

Two weeks later he found himself at a social gathering at his sponsors house, a family garden party of sorts, alcohol free of course, and that’s where he first met  Olivia Dane. He and Olivia seemed to have an instant connection, no awkward spots in their conversations, no awkward silences where he felt the need to fill time with rambling. Conversation flowed freely. He left that night not having a single drop of alcohol, and with her number in his phone. One week later they were out to dinner ams six weeks after that had her on his arm down the red carpet. 

Eliza and Harry never discussed the kiss. For him it was something he was able to freely move passed, for her it was so much more. The kiss lingered on her mind for weeks and weeks she had so many unanswered questions, questions she knew she might never have answers to. The two had reverted back to old ways, going through third parties to organise Harry spending time with Koa and Lennon. Eliza didn’t love the idea of not having any contact with Harry, especially because they had just started going to therapy and she was really hoping that this would be the turning point in their co-parenting attempt. She was happy that their children had their father back though, every child deserves happy and healthy parents was her fundamental belief. That’s truly all she has ever wanted for Harry, for him to be happy and healthy. With Harry out of the picture for her, she spent more time getting closer to her now partner Andrew. She never spoke a word of the kiss. 

harrystyles . MINE .  LIked by jefezoff, oliviadane and 12,573,399 others.  The post took Eliza by surprise. She saw it on a Sunday morning as she was lazing in bed. She wanted to be happy for him, she wanted him to love and to be loved, but she still wanted him to love her. It was selfish of her, and she was aware of this. Selfish because she has and still was seeing someone else, so why shouldn’t he be able to do the same. But that kiss still lingered in the back of her mind.

She would come to find out some hours later that at some point during the day Harry had unfollowed her on all social media platforms. This hurt her more than it should have, Andrew copping the brunt of her anger, leading them to a huge argument where he had accused her of still being in love with Harry. I can’t be in this relationship with you Eliza, this isn’t healthy. You still love him and that’s okay, but let’s be honest here you can’t love him and still have me. He was right. They ended things that night.  Harry was thinking about introducing Olivia to his kids. It had been on his mind for a while, probably from the second week he had known her. Him co-parenting with Eliza made it harder for him to see Olivia on weekends. He had just gotten into such a good schedule with having the kids again he didn’t want to cancel visits, but he also didn’t want to lay in bed alone at night when they were asleep. Olivia didn’t fancy children very much, her opinion of children didn’t change just because they were linked to the man she was sleeping with. Harry waited three months before he organised a brunch date where she would meet the children. 

Anne had gone to Elizas to pick up the children just as she had been all this time. Koa had fallen ill and Eliza had almost canceled their visit but she had caught wind that the kids would be meeting Olivia and decided against canceling, but packing everything from his prescription medication to his favourite lovey just to be safe, writing out a note giving perfectly clear descriptions about the contents of the bag and their uses.  Olivia rolled her eyes and complained about said bag and note she seems so dramatic over a damn cold were her exact words. Harry didn’t say anything in return letting her comment slide. It was moments like this that he would come to later regret, letting things slide was in his opinion the way people got into bad behaviours, but he loved her and didn’t want to royally fuck this day up over a comment before it had even really started.  He seemed to think that the brunch went well, Olivia on the other hand was less than enthused. Koa had spilt his yoghurt, Lennon her orange juice, children were crying and there was snot everywhere. Despite her distaste for the children of the man she loved, she smiled through it. But really all she could think about was ways to get Harry to herself next weekend, child (and snot) free. She somehow managed it and the following weekend, an hour before Harry was scheduled to have the kids, he canceled. Something about a surprise weekend in Paris that had been sprung on him at the last minute was the reasoning Eliza had gotten off of Anne. 

oliviadane you had me at bonjour ❤️ Liked by harrystyles, jefezoff and 5,452 others.

Harry’s visits with the children had become few and far between by late September. Fallon’s anniversary was fast approaching and Eliza was not coping. Anne, who had stayed in contact with her and loved her like a second daughter picked up on it. Eliza was out of sorts, and rightfully so. She had a lot on her plate between the twins and mentally trying to process the upcoming date. Harry on the other hand was off in a different country every week. Brushing off the responsibilities of parenthood had yet again come so easy to him, Eliza wasn’t surprised at this point. Old habits die hard. Anne had let her concerns about Eliza known to Gemma who went to visit to see for herself. Eliza was a mess, Anne had not been lying. Gemma gave Harry and absolute ear bashing on the phone, told him how much of a disappointment he was to her and their mother, how his kids would resent him some day, how he should be ashamed of himself. Gemmas words must have hit a nerve, or at least talked some sense into him. The following week Harry had done a complete 180 again and the visits with the children, much to Olivia’s dismay, were back on schedule. 

It started with small incidents at first. Koa coming home crying, Lennon expressing her disinterest in going to her fathers house for weekend visits. The weekend before Fallon’s anniversary was the last straw. Koa was screaming and crying as Anne’s car pulled away from Eliza’s house. Eliza could hear his blood curdling shrieks from down the road as she stood frozen in her driveway watching her babies drive away. She hated sending them to him when they were in such a state but she couldn’t figure out what the sudden change had been, they had always loved spending time with their dad until suddenly the didn’t. 

Harry came home from the studio at around lunchtime. His mum had brought the kids some hours earlier and Olivia had been with them for the few hours that they had been there. Harry did not expect to come home to two screaming, crying, hyperventilating children. How long have they been crying? Olivia rolled her eyes and told him they hadn’t shut up since they had gotten there, adding in that they had given her a splitting headache and she was very happy he was home because now they were his problem. Harry knew in that moment that he would have to break up with her. Her small comments about his children and the mother of his children needed to stop, he thought that once she got used to the idea of having the kids around and spending more time with them to get to know them a little better that the comments would stop, but they didn’t. He couldn’t change her, her hatred for children was so deep seeded there was no flipping this situation. He thought that perhaps they could spend one last night together and that he would break it off in the morning once the children had left, but then he noticed the bruises on the children’s arms. When he asked Lennon what had happened she simply pointed to Olivia and that was enough to send him into a fit. Olivia had her bags packed and was out of the house by nightfall. 

Elizas doorbell rang at approximately 7.45pm. She found Harry on her doorstep childless. She panicked thinking something had happened to the twins at first and he must have seen it in her face because he just about jumped at the chance to tell her that his mother was watching them. This had been the first time since the kiss that the two had seen each other.  She pulls the door open more than it had been and lets him stroll through. She makes him a coffee whilst she makes herself a tea and then he tells her everything. She wants to press charges, to hunt this lady down and give her a bruising. Harry tells her that the children need her to be with them at home and not in a jail cell, she decides for once that Harry may have the better judgement here and settles down with Harry promising to never bring her, or any other woman, around their kids every again.  The following weekend, the family of four had an afternoon picnic at Fallon’s grave. It was nothing special, Eliza and Harry both cried the whole time, holding each other extra tight. It had been a rough year for the both of them, they had come so far yet here they found themselves back where they belonged the most... in each other’s arms, surrounded by all their children. With Olivia gone, Koa and Lennon relaxed and seemed to be once again enjoying their time with Harry. Truth be told, she had been enjoying time with Harry too. He became a regular for breakfasts at Eliza’s, and then when the kids were at kindy he became a regular for lunch, and then dinner and then a regular in her bed. This has been over the course of a few months, Eliza made boundaries very early on and part of her stipulations were that they needed to have weekly therapy and not put too much pressure on themselves. In true Harry and Eliza style, the two didn’t take things too slow.

Harry and Eliza remarried in a causal courthouse ceremony in late January, his mum and Gemma were their witnesses. They went to a swanky restaurant to celebrate with the most expensive Sunday roast dinner Harry has ever had in his life. Harry surprised the public with the news, they had somehow managed to keep the rekindling of their relationship under wraps and the media and fans lost their minds in unison. The pair were a hot topic for days.

harrystyles Eliza Ray Styles, I am so lucky that you agreed to marry me twice in one lifetime. I don’t deserve you, but I will love you until the day I die. Love you, wife.  Liked by elizastyles, annetwist and 32,763,278 others.  A few weeks later, it was their turn to be surprised with news that they were once again expecting. Both Harry and Eliza were secretly relieved to only see one baby on the screen at the first appointment. Eliza decided to keep this pregnancy to herself, Harry had no tours and no press junkets and no radio interviews and the pair were both able to fully enjoy the pregnancy. Eliza went into labour in the early out of October 3rd, what would have been Fallon’s 6th birthday, and gave birth and home in the water just six hours later. They once again found themselves trending for days after the announcement of the birth of their son. 

elizastyles for the last nine months, we have been holding the news of this little blessing very close to our hearts. One month ago, Jairus Cohen Styles arrived three weeks early, happy and healthy, and shares a birthday with his Angel sister Fallon Noel. Our family is complete. We are both tired and in love ❤️ Liked by harrystyles, jefezoff and 7,625,618 others. 

[detectiveguapo]

Choke

Summary: Miguel doesn’t like it when you ghost him. 

Pairing: Miguel Galindo x Reader

Words: 2905

TW: language, sex, consensual angry sex (but kinda has shades of non-con), physical violence, choking

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The roar of the engine rips through the quiet of your suburban street. Two wheels ignite the pavement as you steer the bars left, your modest bungalow finally coming into view. Everything is as you left it except for a pair of black cars with tinted windows parked on the adjacent street. A visit from the president, you think wryly. A window rolls down and you spot those clear-framed sunglasses and a salt and pepper beard (just begging to be sat on). “Shit,” you mutter, and it reverberates within the confines of your helmet. The moment you turn to your driveway and your engine sputters to a stop, the driver to the Bentley steps out. The kickstand scratches on the concrete as you pull the helmet over your head, your hair flowing out to fall down the small of your back. You don’t look behind you, but you can hear the set of footsteps encroaching upon your space.

“I know where you’ve been.” His voice is deceivingly placid, but you can sense the dark clouds and looming thunderstorm. The click of Italian shoes stops a few feet from where you’re standing, then you hear his men retreat a safe distance — far enough so they’re not privy to your conversation, but close enough to intercept if you decided to hurt a hair on their boss’ precious, pretty head. “You’re tracking me now?” “I wouldn’t have to if you were honest with me.” You chuckle at the irony of it all. Miguel Galindo — the man who keeps more secrets than the United States Treasury — is telling you to be honest with him.

The statement is infuriating, but it’s low on the list of things he does that make your blood boil. The demand to be truthful when you can’t expect the same in return is, frankly, unsurprising since you know what you got yourself into when you started sleeping with him. But it’s still bullshit. There’s also the possessiveness, the jealousy, the refusal to acknowledge you want more from him than he’s willing to give. You know it’s like diving in quicksand getting involved with the leader of a drug cartel, but you can’t help it. Reason flies out the window the second he shows up in his perfectly-pressed shirts, expertly-coiffed hair, and that stupidly gorgeous face. The fucking nerve.

He’s not even your type. He’s wound up tight, doesn’t have a speck of dirt under his fingernails, and can’t hang and have a beer with your friends. At least, that’s what you tell yourself when you try to resist the biological need to mount him. He’s not what you go for, seeing as you’re the kind of girl who gets around town in a Harley and makes a living tinkering with engines. But his infuriating way of getting whatever he wants works on you, because you’re really not that different from the other girls. You may be one of the boys, but you’d still be a hoe for Galindo if he asked nicely. And the fucker’s really good at that. He’s got a way of smoothing out your rough edges (with his tongue).

The door doesn’t slam behind you even though you have every intention of slamming it in Miguel’s face telenovela-style. He follows you inside the house, through the living room, into the kitchen, cornering you between the fridge and the hard wall that is his body. “Why haven’t you been answering my calls?” You take a swig from the orange juice carton and swallow hard, the citrus burning your throat. Putting it back in the fridge, you turn around and duck under his outstretched arm to move out of the claustrophobic space. “Stop walking away from me” he calls after you. “And stop ignoring my questions.”

You’re in the narrow hallway on the way to your bedroom when you feel a tight grip on your arm and your body slammed onto the drywall. It nearly knocks the wind out of you. Wincing at the sudden impact, you blink a few times before you see Miguel’s reddened face inches from yours. The knot between his brows is deep and his eyes are so intense you can’t bear to return his stare. There are moments when Miguel can be on the aggressive side when you’re having sex, but it’s something you’ve both consented to and discussed. You love it when he’s rough, sometimes egging him on to push your limits. But he’s never been like this outside of sex even when he’s angry with you; he’s never let any form of physical violence take over. A little part of you is scared as you’re suddenly reminded of who he is and what he’s done. You’re not oblivious. You’ve heard the stories. You know about the yellow raincoat deep in his closet. And yet, another little part of you located between the apex of your thighs is awakened. The shallow breaths between you in such a cramped space is the only sound that exists for a long, drawn-out moment. The rise and fall of his chest stretches the perfectly-pressed shirt until it forms creases around the buttons. He runs his hand through his hair in frustration with himself, then he takes a step back and groans. “Fuck.”

“I think you should leave,” you say with a crack in your voice, unsure of whether or not it’s really what you want. “Please go.” “Tell me why you left.” “Miguel.” “Why did you disappear without telling me?” he asks, almost pleading. “We were fine up until a week ago, then all of a sudden you don’t want to see me, you don’t want to talk to me, you want nothing to do with me. What is it? What did I do?” “I don’t want to do this right now.” Miguel slaps his palms against the wall, forearms on either side of your head. You close your eyes like you’re bracing for impact but it never comes. “You bailed on our arrangement, and I’m not leaving until I have answers.” “Our arrangement,” you repeat with bitterness laced in your voice. “The arrangement where you only crawl back to me whenever it’s convenient for you — only when you’re looking for a warm body to share your bed. But the rest of the time, you’re cool with the rest of the world thinking you’re some hotshot bachelor. You have no clue, huh?” “Is that why you’re running from me? Because of a fucking label? Because I don’t think it benefits either of us to make you my fucking girlfriend?” “Please,” you say. “This last week, I’ve come to realize I deserve more than to be Galindo’s puta.” “What do you deserve?” His mouth close to your ear, his breath trailing fire on your skin. “To be the Mayans’ puta?”

“Fuck you, Miguel.” You push him off you, but in a second he’s cornered you against the wall, his hands firmly gripping your shoulders. “You can’t speak to me like that.” “Fuck. You.” He grabs you by the chin, forcing you to look at him. “Try that again and —“ “— And what?” You spit back. “You’ll bash my head in? Cut my arm off? Choke me to death with your shirt?” He backs off a little like he knows he’s on the verge of doing something unspeakable, even for him. This is what you find so confusing about him. He has these moments where he’s compassionate and loyal, where he uses his brilliance for the benefit of others, and then there are moments where he’s too immersed in the terrible things he’s done that he isolates himself. He won’t let anyone he actually cares about see that part of him. He won’t let anyone he loves see him when he’s the man on the other side of that wall. But something vicious inside you sees that moment of vulnerability and decides to stab it with a knife and twist until he bleeds out. “Don’t tell me what to do. Don’t tell me who I can’t hang out with,” you say about your friends. You know it works because his expression darkens with anger the moment you bring it back to the Mayans; something about your relationship to the club is like picking at an old wound for Miguel. “I tell you what to do because I own you.” He presses his forehead against yours, his hands restraining your hips so you’re trapped with nowhere to go. “I even own the Mayans. I own every single fucking person on either side of this border. They work for me and they fall to their fucking knees for me.”

“If you own me then claim me.” Miguel looks into your eyes, his brows creasing and his lips parting. If he doesn’t want to be with you, then he’s not worth all of the pain. Even if he makes you feel good, it’s not worth the hurt when he leaves and pretend you don’t exist. “Make me yours, Miguel.” He thinks about it a second too long, and you push him off.

Miguel retaliates in a flash with his hand around you throat and his whole body slamming into you. He chokes you. He doesn’t even slacken his hold when his eyes give away how startled he is by the force he’s inflicting upon you. His grip stays the same even as you gasp for air and your eyes are wide in horror (and arousal). Your face is pointed to the ceiling as you feel the anguished cry from your lips turn into something along the lines of a mischievous smile. You buck your hips into his, and when he doesn’t change course, you spit in his face.

Miguel chokes harder. He’s crushing your throat so tight you feel your eyes bug out of your skull, and now you’re legitimately terrified you’re going to die of asphyxiation. Everything goes blurry and all you remember is the onyx gleam in his eyes and the bright white canines that you wish would scrape at your skin until you’re bleeding crimson for him. But then he lets go. His breaths are ragged while you’re coughing up a storm, trying to take in as much oxygen and save what’s left of your lungs. You’re doubled over, palm over your chest when you see him standing on the opposite wall. His fingers are running through his hair, his mouth muttering curse words in Spanish. You stand a little straighter as you let your fingers trail along the side of your neck, throwing him a challenge by smiling slyly in his direction. Shoving you against the wall and forcing his thigh between your legs, he kisses you. One hand wraps around the front of your throat while the other caresses down your cheek. It’s violent and tender at the same time. It’s infuriatingly Miguel.

He continues to strangle you but no longer with the same merciless force as before. Not when he’s simultaneously distracted by the taste of your tongue tangling with his, or the sensation of you rubbing on his thigh. His deft fingers loosen the buttons of your jeans and pulls them swiftly down to your knees. You kick them off, but not far enough. Miguel pulls away from the kiss and his chokehold to bend down and slip your jeans entirely off your legs, throwing them down the hall. He kisses and licks and bites your inner thigh on his way up then all the way down as he slides the lacy thong out of the way. Hands slide up under your white t-shirt, grabbing a handful of your tits. He squeezes with the same force he had on your neck and you gyrate onto his clothed erection. Hands wrap under your jaw, tilting your head up so he can kiss you. It frees you up to work on his trousers and his underwear, getting them out of the way so you can feel the hot, thick length that you’ve craved. As much as you’ve missed the feeling of being filled up by Miguel, the memory doesn’t come close to the real thing. He bucks into your hands as he cradles your face, his head buried in the leather-clad junction of your shoulder. “You feel so fucking good, baby.” He jerks into the tight ring formed by your fingers. “Don’t ever try to leave me again.” You loosen your grip and let your hands fall to your side. “You’re not going anywhere.” “You can’t make me —“ He wrings your neck in both hands and, this time, he lifts you off the ground. You claw at him in your state of panic, heels kicking against the wall so you can get down. Fear is coursing through every cell in your bloodstream. He’s going to kill you. Miguel Galindo, your lover who also happens to be a murderous cartel boss, is literally going to be the death of you. He buries his cock inside you. The tilt of his hips alleviates some of the pressure around your throat, allowing you to balance precariously on his length. He saves you by fucking you. You’re up against the wall, one hand tight around your throat and the other slides down to your hip as he pounds into you. Each stroke a ferocious testament to his bond of ownership.

The lights begin to dance in front of your eyes and the narrow hallway becomes a never-ending spiral. It might be from the lack of oxygen to your brain, or the merciless fucking, or a wicked combination of both. Miguel is in some sort of daze, laser-focused on one thing and one thing only and that’s claiming you so you’re at his mercy. His eyes are the darkest they’ve ever been and you wonder, in a brief moment of lucidity, if this is what he looks like when he’s ordering a kill. You slide down the wall as his grip loosens and his legs give out. Falling on the floor, you feel his weight on top of you, never disengaging his cock from your slick walls. He drives into you a few more times while he tries to catch his breath, and while you try to get some long, deep breaths of your own before he’s got his hands choking you again. He kneels. He pulls your ass off the floor so your back is arched, and he impales you to the hilt. You’re so wet and wired for him, but this new angle is hitting a new spot and it hurts (but in the best way.) Your body tries to rumble out a moan but he’s stifling it down and all it can do is simmer inside of you. This position opens you up and makes you even more vulnerable. While he keeps one hand on your neck, squeezing with every downward stroke, he takes his other hand to your clit. He doesn’t even give you time to adjust to the sensation as he circles and pinches with his fingers. He sticks a couple fingers in his mouth and lubes them up, positioning them over your over-sensitized clit. At this point, it becomes too much and your muddled brain doesn’t know if it’s experiencing immense pleasure or pain. You just know you’re going to die if you don’t get your release soon. “You’re mine.” He pants with deep, hard strokes. “You will always be mine.” There’s nothing about the way he says it that makes you feel comforted or makes you feel like you’re getting what you want. Being his girlfriend is a silly thing to ask of him — you know that, but you can’t help your heart from wanting what your head knows is a terrible idea. For a long time now, you’ve wanted to hear Miguel say those words. You dreamed to belong to each other. You just never expected those words to come out as a threat. Rolling your clit between his fingers and fucking you faster and stronger, you feel the wave crash over you and your whole body convulsing from the base of your belly outward. When you come, you lose your breath and pass out.

All you remember next is a haze. You’re gasping for air like you’ve just woken up from a nightmare as you feel Miguel pulling out. He’s still kneeling over you but he shoves your legs on either side of him. Still on his knees, he sits up so he’s towering over you. He grips his length with the hand he used to choke you and he jerks off, finishing in milky hot streaks all over your stomach.

When it’s all over, you roll to your side, clutching your bruised neck and coughing weakly. Everything hurts. There’s an ache nestled within the left side of your chest, right below your ribcage, and it makes you wonder if you’re having a heart attack. Chin on the floor, you blink a few times to see Miguel on his feet. He’s straightening his clothes — buttoning his trousers and smoothing down the wrinkles of his shirt. He walks toward the door, but before he leaves he looks at you with a mix of pity and an empty sort of affection. The kind one has for an object they desire, not for someone they love. “I’ll call you tomorrow,” he says quietly then adds, “answer your fucking phone this time.”

[hey-have-you-heard]

Hey have you heard these 50 songs from 2019

I really enjoyed this last year so going to give it another go for ‘19. I put quite a lot of thought into what actually a ‘song of the year’ for me when I was first constructing and then heavily editing the playlist that came to be my Top 50 of 2019. I think the most important thing is that above all it’s a track that I’m glad exists, sometimes this is because of the songwriting or composition, sometimes the performance, sometimes the lyrical importance and sometimes just because it sparks joy.

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6bFJOjL8b8Zc2s5r1oJbsk?si=UJdqSXOTR3SQ8D3IwcmV2g

Explanations for each tracks inclusion below the fold…

100 gecs - 800db cloud 100 gecs channel a mix of Crystal Castles and Sleigh Bells with a Death Grips level appreciation for noise. It’s an absolute rush and that outro is just absurd.

Natalie Evans - Always Be Natalie Evans soft melody and sing song vocals are sublimely sweet on this heartfelt track of lost love, longing and nostalgia.

Petrol Girls - Big Mouth “If you fight back or disagree you’re the one with the fucking problem” this hits home, hard. Big Mouth is a rallying cry to speak out against oppression and discrimination, to raise you’re voice and be heard, not to be controlled.

Charli XCX ft. Lizzo - Blame it on your Love Charli has a midas touch when it comes to pop, combine that with Lizzo who has just about been the most fun thing in music this year and you’ve got a 10/10 banger.

Poppy - BLOODMONEY Poppy’s music just keeps going further down the rabbit hole. Originally playing with blending elements of nu-metal with bubblegum pop, she now seems to have transcended genre altogether to create whatever BLOODMONEY is, it’s absolutely ridiculous and I love it.

Body Hound - Bloom Get on that GROOVE! So proggy it hurts, this track from Body Hound is a technical wonderland of metamorphosing rhythms, gargantuan riffs, and just the tastiest of chord progressions.

Can the Sub_Bass speak - Algiers Word of warning, this is not an easy listen. A freefall tumble through genre and tone accompanies a stream of consciousness monologue full of racism, prejudice and political and artistic critique.

Elohim - Buckets Buckets is an onslaught of trap influences, emotional outbursts and aggressive distortion. I’m a big fan of this sound.

VUKOVI - C.L.A.U.D.I.A I know very little about VUKOVI as a band, but that riff is absolutely massive and this track has been a constant throughout my year on that basis alone.

Show Me The Body - Camp Orchestra Apparently more hardcore bands should use Banjos, because this is a damn good sound. Slowly building from a single bass line this track builds into a powerful demolishing force.

clipping. - Club Down Having thoroughly proven themselves able to do afro-futurist scifi on the Hugo nominated Splendor and Misery, clipping. now turn their considerable talents to horror core and unsurprisingly nail it. Daveed’s flows are tight as ever as he brings to life a decaying city backed by tortured screams.

Dream Nails - Corporate Realness YOU ARE NOT YOUR JOB. WORK IS NOT YOUR LIFE. YOU ARE NOT WHAT YOU MUST DO IN ORDER TO SURVIVE. Dream Nails are great and exactly what we need right now.

ControlTop - Covert Contracts This track positively bristles with an anxious energy. A fitting sound for the subject of the information overload we find ourselves locked into everyday.

Cherry Glazerr - Daddi There’s an icy coolness to ‘Daddi’, a disconnected sarcasm that falls away to reveal the anger and torment in the chorus, it’s a masterful bit of emotional storytelling through musical tone.

The Physics House Band - Death Sequence I Listening to Physics House latest release, the Death Sequence EP feels like a physical journey. This opener is a perfect example of this, as you’re plunged straight into a heady and disorienting mix of rhythms and counter-melody’s, the Sax guiding you through the turbulence until you land in a placid midsection, before that bass riff drags you forward through rhythmic breakdowns into an absolutely absurd brain melting saxophony and then it just keeps on going from there…

Witching Waves - Disintegration I saw WW back in the early summer, they were a bassist down so it was just a guitar and drums duo. They started with this track and it was one of the most pure punk things I’ve experienced, drummer/vocalist Emma Wigham bashing the absolute shit out of her kit . A great no-nonsense lo-fi banger.

Lingua Ignota - DO YOU DOUBT ME TRAITOR Another, not particularly easy listen here. DO YOU DOUBT ME TRAITOR is a dark and angry brooding track, building in intensity to release the primal rage, fear and horror of the abused. Its deeply chilling and instantly arresting. This track and the entire CALIGULA album stands as an absolute must listen.

Carly Rae Jepsen ft. Electric Guest - Feels Right I love the instrumentation on this one, those chunky piano chords and screaming guitar lift the track out and make it the highlight of an already great album to me.

Orla Gartland - Figure it out Dialing back the intensity slightly, Orla chronicles the frustrations of having to deal with someone in your life who you’re done with. The choruses burst forth in beautifully fuzzy explosions of noise. That vocal flair at the start of the final chorus is chef kiss.

Battles - Fort Greene Park Battles are at their best when they keep things simple. This is evident on 2019′s Juicy B Crypts which features some incredibly cluttered moments, but this just makes Fort Greene Park stand out all the more. A delightfully spacious piece of math rock, from some of the best in the business.

Dogleg - Fox Boy howdy, do I love me some midwest emo. Catharsis in musical form, it just makes me want to mosh my troubles away like I’m 16 again.

Tørsö - Grab A Shovel Tørsö go hard, I can appreciate that. An absolutely brutal track about the destructive power of depression and self-loathing.

“Pijn & Conjurer playing Curse These Metal Hands” - High Spirits “We were like, are we Pijn and Conjurer, or are we Curse These Metal Hands? I think we’ve settled with ‘we are Pijn and Conjurer playing Curse These Metal Hands’ …whatever that means!“ what it means is one of the most joyously triumphant pieces of metal music I’ve ever heard. Some of the guitar lines in this absolutely soar.

Lizzo - Juice Lizzo has won 2019, her message of self love, acceptance and body positivity has won her both critical and cultural acclaim and permeates her music in a way that makes it impossible to not love.

COLOSSAL SQUID, AK Patterson - Kick Punch Colossal Squid is the name given to Three Trapped Tigers drummer, Adam Betts’ experimental project. After a solo album of percussive wizardry Betts has now teamed with vocalist AK Patterson to give us something else entirely.

Evan Greer - Liberty Is A Statue Evan Greer uses the a folk punk sound to deliver an essay on the damaging influences of cis-normativity and social inequality. Of course I like this one.

Taylor Swift - Lover I wasn’t on board with this song for a fair while, but then I kept listening to it and kept coming back to it because of a roughly 50 second section which ties the track and the whole album together. Yeah, this is on here purely for the bridge, which is just beautiful.

Dodie - Monster Monster is an incredibly well written and delivered study on how perception changes with resentment and it makes me cry.

The Y Axes - Moon Moon is a delightfully dreamy piece of pop that glitters with infectious melodies, it’s lyrics a blissful embracing of cosmic nihilism, need I say more?

Ezra Furman - My Teeth Hurt My teeth hurt is a song about tooth ache, about that pain you carry with you everywhere and can’t get rid of, that ruins your days and and is one hell of a mood. Yeah it’s about gender dysphoria.

Nervus - No Nations Speaking of things being a mood, this track hits the nail squarely on the head.

Cultdreams - Not My Generation "Everyone ignores me Unless I’m on a stage talking Because they put me on a pedestal And pretend I’m just performing“ Lucinda Livingstone calls out the misogyny in our culture with a singular ferocity.

Lil Nas X - Old Town Road If there’s one song that’s dominated 2019 this is it right here. Who ever had the idea of putting that NIN Ghosts sample to a trap beat and cowboying over the top of it is an absolute genius.

King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard - Planet B It’s impossible to predict where King Gizzard’s sonic influences are going to take them next I doubt even they know half the time. Whatever they turn their hand to though they do it as if they mastered the sound decades ago Planet B is an all out thrash track with a strong environmental message.

Kesha - Rich, White, Straight Men Okay, I’m about to compare Kesha to John Lennon here but HEAR ME OUT… As ‘Imagine’ asked us to consider a world without conflict or capitalism, Kesha now posits that we should tear up our conceptions of our society based on its formation by a privileged group and imagine what kind of utopia could be built if we gave the underprivileged and minority groups a say.

Allie X - Rings A Bell The chorus here sounds like it could have been off Daft Punk’s Random Access Memories, and I’m all about that sound. Combined with Allie X’s dreamlike vocals make this a certified bop.

Poly-Math - Sensors in Everything Sensors in Everything is a beast of a track spanning over 14 minutes of absurdly dense prog. Having recently enlisted keyboardist Josh Gesner. Polymath make use of the new sounds and textures available to them, at times imitating a sort of Hammond sound not unlike John Lord to the chaotic maelstrom of noise.

Calva Louise - Sleeper Big hooks on this one. Sleeper has a confident swagger to it’s sound which stands apart for the bands previous work. It’s an absolutely huge track.

Slipknot - Solway Firth Slipknot didn’t disappoint after the tease of 2018′s “All Out Life”, following up with an album which blended old and new aspects of their sound to create one of their best to date. Solway Firth is a perfect example of this matching the punishing heaviness of Iowa with the melody driven sound of All Hope Is Gone.

Clt Drp - Speak To My Seeing Clt Drp perform live was one of my highlights of the year. The filthy guitar tones, powerhouse vocals tight as heck drumming and the _grooves. _Absolutely like nothing else I’ve seen. Just an incredible band that deserve so much more recognition.

Black Country, New Road - Sunglasses Black Country, New Road released two tracks this year and now I just want more. Dense wordy lyricism plays off against ever evolving instrumentation to present a raw cut of emotional storytelling.

Her Name Is Calla - Swan Her Name Is Calla are a band that have always been on the edge of my radar, my Dad is very fond of them and saw them live a couple of years ago, but never went back to relisten to any of their stuff, then they started an album with this. I was sold instantly.

black midi - Talking Heads Talking Heads (the band) are an obvious inspiration on this track. Both David Byrne’s vocal style and the Talking Heads penchant for sharp angular melodies are on show here. But given an extra ounce of chaos through Black Midi’s delivery.

Amanda Palmer - The Ride The ride is ten minutes of bundling up all your fears and anxieties of where we are and where we’re going and just, accepting them as part of the ride. Written off the back of a prompt from Amanda asking her fans what they were afraid of right now.

Kim Petras - There Will Be Blood Okay, let’s have some out of season spookiness. Love the squelchy synths on this, there’s a huge amount of energy on this track and with it’s commitment to the horror conceit it makes for a super fun bop.

Kate Nash - Trash Kate Nash’s sound is like bathing pure nostalgia,here she spins the toxic-relationship narrative central to her work to deliver a bigger story about humanity’s, quite literally toxic relationship to our planet.

American Football & Hayley Williams - Uncomfortably Numb The other side of the “midwest emo” coin. A melancholic song built on a soft bed of arpeggiated chords and clean harmonics, Uncomfortably Numb is a heartbreaking track of losing everything and of cycles persisting thorugh generations. Employing the clever metatextual trick of referencing Pink Floyd’s comfortably Numb to mirror the generational similarities.

Glenn Branca - Velvet and Pearls Disclaimer, Glenn Branca was a musical hero of mine, his approach to music and composition being solely responsible for influence a vast number of my favourite bands. Released posthumously, Velvet and Pearls is taken from a live performance by Branca’s ensemble and perfectly captures the sense of sonic disorientation, conjuring aural illusions through an assault of intricately crafted noise. It’s an exhilarating piece that should be played as loud as humanly possible.

Brutus - War The raw emotional strength of Stefanie Manneart’s vocals instantly made me pay attention when I first heard this track. Then the song exploded into a barrage of riffs and breakneck drumming.

Valiant Vermin - Warm Coke Another slice of throwback pop, Valiant Vermin proved with “Online Lover” how much of an ear she has for pop and has proven it once again with Warm Coke. Is a real good bop.

———

Welp there it is, 50(+1) songs, I had to limit myself to one track per artist in the main 50 because according to Spotify I listened to [checks notes] 1082 new artists this year. There are a small handful of tracks I wanted to highlight from the same artists though as they offer something quite different to the tracks in the playlists, so here they are quickly with 3 word descriptions.

Petrol Girls - Skye (dead dog, sad) Amanda Palmer - Voicemail for Jill (Talk about abortion) Ezra Furman - I Wanna be Your Girlfriend (Trans Torch Song) Battles ft Jon Anderson & Prairie WWWW - Sugar Foot (Batshit Prog Insanity) Poppy - Choke (Dark Minimalist Pop) Show Me The Body - Forks and Knives (Anxious nightmare punk) Lingua Ignota - CALIGULA (the whole album.)

———

Closing Statement

Cultdreams - Statement

There has been a shadow over the entertainment industry the latter half of this decade. Whether film, music, TV or video games, the late 2010′s are filled with stories of people coming forward to bravely tell their stories about being abused and manipulated by men in positions of power. The #metoo movement as it’s come to be known has been a powerful force in giving marginalised people a voice and the ability to call out oppressors and in starting the groundwork to root out the misogyny in the seats of power, but this is a battle far from won.

While there are thousands of stories out there I want to focus on one in particular.

In 2016 a number of women spoke out about various forms of abuse by a well-known musician in the punk scene. It’s now over three years later and this group of women are in the midst of a long fought claim of defamation from this musician. If this case goes through it sets a precedent for silencing marginalised voices in the industry. They have been fighting for so long and with no legal aid available for the case they have had to finance their defense from their own pockets.

This is where Solidarity Not Silence comes in. Solidarity not silence is a crowdfunding effort to help take the case to trial without the women bankrupting themselves entirely so that they don’t have to give in to this mans demands.  You can read more about Solidarity not Silence and make a donation (if you feel so inclined) here: https://www.crowdjustice.com/case/solidaritynotsilence/

You can also follow them on twitter here https://twitter.com/solnotsilence

[psycho-slytherin]

Writers’ block (bonus chapter!)

Based on this request by @yoongi-sugaglider. Happy (late) birthday!!

Context: This scene takes place between chapters 22 and 23, while y/n is still living with the members.

Pairing: Yoongi x (female) Reader

Word count: 1.4k

|mlist|

Thud. Thud. Thud.

“Y/n, what are you doing?”

“I’m...” Thud. “Trying to,” Thud. “Motivate myself.” You have a huge creative writing assignment due next week and you can’t seem to come up with the will to even put words to paper.

“Hey, stop it, stop!” Yoongi catches your head before you can bash it against his coffee table again. “Please don’t get a concussion– I don’t want to have to bring you to the hospital at one in the morning.”

“I refuse to believe it’s one in the morning– that would imply I’ve been wallowing in my sorrows for half an hour.”

“But, but...” your friend sighs. “Can you not smash your face against the table? What if you get blood on it?”

“I can see where your priorities lie.”

Yoongi laughs. “I’m kidding. What do you usually do to motivate yourself?”

You gesture wordlessly at the coffee table.

“Okay– maybe don’t do that anymore. Trust me, you need those brain cells.”

You roll your eyes and flip him off. “It’s not like I use them anyways.” Yoongi takes the opportunity to grasp your outstretched hand and haul you to your feet. “Hey, what are you doing?” you complain as he pulls you to the door.

“Put on your jacket– we’re going for a walk.”

“Ew, exercise.”

“Humor me, will you?”

You sigh loudly for about ten seconds longer than you had to before following Yoongi out of the back door of the apartment, through the basement, and into the night.

“Brr...” you hug yourself as a gust of wind shocks you. “Why are we out here?”

“For one, to keep you from abusing our table. Secondly, we can’t talk loudly when the members are sleeping.” Yoongi shrugs. “I thought we could go to the lamppost.”

“You planning on walking halfway across Seoul?”

Yoongi grins, and at that moment the familiar sleek black car pulls up to the curb.

“Wait, how did you– when– what?” you sputter as Yoongi holds the door open for you. “Does this thing fucking teleport?”

“Don’t question it, y/n, just get in.”

You stick your tongue out at your friend and spend the several-minute car ride in comfortable silence. You need to write a twenty-page short story, and the length isn’t what’s intimidating; finding an idea that’ll last twenty pages is what’s killing you. More than that, you just can’t. You want to, but you’ve spent the whole afternoon staring at a blank screen that keeps getting blanker.

Writers’ block. You hate writers’ block. You’re so wrapped up in your thoughts that it takes Yoongi opening the door for you to realize the car has stopped in front of the solitary lamppost illuminating the lonely street.

“You okay? You seem really distracted,” Yoongi asks once the car has pulled away.

You laugh. “Distracted would be a blessing. Distracted means creative.”

“You said you needed motivation?”

“Yeah. I... I haven’t been able to write for, like, days. I don’t have ideas. And even when I don’t have ideas, usually I just start writing, you know? Just–”

You mime wild typing. “Doing that helps, but this time, I just can’t. And I hate it!” With a sudden burst of anger, you rear back and kick the lamppost. “Ow!”

“Y/n–”

But you can’t be stopped. “I don’t have any motivation even though I actually need to write for my grade! More than that, I really want to write, I love making up stories! So why the fuck–”

“Y/n.”

“I’m better than this! I shouldn’t have to deal with writers’ block, not if I’ve dealt with literally everything else. I dealt with my cheating ex, I dealt with my apartment flooding, the hospital, anxie–” you pause. “I don’t deserve this. Ugh!”

Yoongi’s leaning against the lamppost, arms crossed as he looks at you with careful fascination. “Are you done?”

“What?” you ask, annoyed. “Yes. Sorry to waste your time.”

“You’re not wasting my time, y/n. You’re wasting yours. Now c’mon, follow me,” Yoongi says, grabbing your hand and pulling you down the street, toward the heart of Seoul.

“What the- where are we going?” you yelp, stumbling as you follow him through twists and turns while the city lights get brighter.

“We’re letting those creative juices flow!” Yoongi pulls his mask up and his hat down, effectively erasing his identity once the quiet sidewalks become louder, and ring with bawdy laughter.

“Yoongs, it’s too risky! You’ll get caught!” you hiss as you pass two drunk giggling women clinging to each other.

Yoongi screeches to a stop, and you bump into him. “Where– oh my god, you’re kidding.”

“Nope!” You can hear the mischievous smile behind Yoongi’s mask. “We’re doing this.”

“Karaoke? Really?” you laugh as you follow him inside.

“One hour in a private karaoke room, please.” Yoongi hands the clerk some cash and soon enough you’re sitting in a big room, watching Yoongi fiddle with the mics.

“Alright,” Yoongi says, gesturing at the screen. “Pick your poison.”

“Dude, I can’t sing!” you protest.

Yoongi raises his eyebrows. “And you think I can?”

You think of all the Vlives, all the Bangtan Bombs, every song where his crooning voice, that whispered Suga has filled your ears. “Yes.”

“Well, you’d be wrong. C’mon, choose something.”

“Uh...” you select the first song you recognize and grip the mic clumsily. “Why are we doing this?”

“Just trust me, y/n. Let go.”

You take a deep breathe and start to sing along, cringing inwardly at your voice breaks and lack of tone.

“Woo! Go y/n!” Yoongi whoops at random intervals, causing you to laugh and forget the words. Soon you begin smiling as you sing, and belting out the words with new confidence. You’re having fun, real fun.

“Is this better than the coffee table?” Yoongi shouts over the instrumentals.

You do a spin, laughing as your hair flies in your face. “So much better. And,” you grin evilly as the song ends. “It’s your turn!”

“Ohhh no...” Yoongi covers his eyes as you advance toward him. “I’m definitely not doing that.”

You press your lips together and pout. “But Yoongs~”

Your friend relents easily in the face of your pout. “Alright, alright! What song should I pick?”

“Seesaw!” you squeal, pointing when you see it scroll across the scene. Yoongi rolls his eyes and smiles as he selects it, while you sit back in satisfaction. Your own personal concert with your own personal idol– what could be better?

Yoongi’s voice, raspy and thoughtful, floats throughout the room as he sings. Where you would usually sit in awe, you’re too giddy to stay still. You get up and–

“Y/n,” Yoongi bursts out laughing, interrupting the chorus. “What are you doing?”

“Your choreo!” you fire back, giggling as you roll your shoulders and hop around in a clumsy imitation of the dance you’ve seen him perform a thousand times, onscreen and in your dreams.

“You’re such a dingus.”

“Keep singing, nerd!”

Yoongi winks and joins you in dancing and singing along to his song– he keeps making funny faces that have you wheezing with laughter, until...

You freeze and gasp. “That’s it!” within yourself you feel a growing excitement, as though electricity were traveling down your arms and filling your fingers with energy. You need to write, need it more than you’ve ever needed anything, you’re desperate, itching to pour your soul onto the page. You fumble for your phone and type out nonsense stream-of-consciousness: Kidteenadult? Genre: murder, romance, drama? Not comedy ew wait murder isn’t a genre okay what if we wait main character strong female character what about swords antagonist?? Germaphobe maybe let’s name him Pierre nd he can have a pet ferret named Pierre Junior what if antag + protag = siblings? climax needs to–

“Y/n? Y/n. Earth to y/n!”

“Woah!” You look up and your eyes have to refocus like a camera lens as Yoongi waves a hand in front of your face. “Where did you come from?”

Yoongi smiles that perfect gummy smile of his. “I trust your motivation has returned?”

“Oh my god, has it ever! Thank you,” you cry, throwing your arms around your friend and hugging him tightly. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! You’re the best, Yoongi, you really are!”

“Heh, I won’t argue,” Yoongi replies, booping your nose. “Now c’mon, let’s get home– I have a feeling you’ve got a lot to do.”

[flowerpot101]

Shy but Frisky

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Request:  So I decided to ask my favorite imagine blog for a Bucky imagine, cause it's my bday hihi. Maybe where you're dating him but you're also a bit shy and you feel bad about that, but he thinks it's totally cute and loves it. One time while you're over at his Apartment at the compound you cuddle but then Bucky starts tickling you which Ends up, you on top of him. Since then, things get heated and passionate and he makes the night all about you? :) I hope you're okay with this smut hihi THX <3 <3

Word Count: 1932

Warnings: Smut and slight profanity.

Y/n and Bucky sat together at the edge of the long wooden table. Everyone was joined together tonight for a special dinner that Tony had called for, saying that they needed with the mission they just had. Steve and Sam sat right across from them, the three of them enjoying a small conversation while she listened on.

Her head turned to Steve as he asked her a question, “How’s everything going with you, Y/n/n?”

“O-oh, it’s going great,�� she quietly said.

Bucky smiled while he looked at her, he knew you could be shy at times and he couldn’t help but find it adorable. He knew you didn’t exactly like being so bashful at times but that didn’t change anything, Buck knew that you had a wild side and you could be quite a ball of energy. Thinking of your wild side, he smirked at the things that popped up in his head. He was so lost in his thoughts he hadn’t realized Sam asked him something until Y/n nudged his side.

Looking at her frantically, he heard Sam, “Hey grandpa, you listenin?”

Bucky gave him a deadpanned look when he heard Sam call him a grandpa, “I’m not a grandpa, birdman.”

They both were scowling at one another but before it could escalate, Y/n intervened, “Okay… well uhm, why don’t we talk about something else?”

Sam scoffed, “Yeah why don’t we talk about if the old man can even keep it up.” Sending a smirk towards Bucky as his face fell into confusion.

Hesitantly saying, “…Keep it up?”

Standing up, Y/n grabbed his hand while frantically saying, “Okay, let’s head back to our room.” Nodding her head while pulling him from the table and as they walked away they could hear Sam snicker but then a loud slap as Steve hit the back of his head.

Y/n went to get a shower while Bucky switched into a pair of grey sweatpants. After ten minutes, she was done and stepping out and grabbed the towel to dry herself off. She then slid on a pair of cheeky underwear and one of Bucky’s white t-shits. As she walked out, she threw the towel into the hamper that was in the corner of the room and ran over to the bed while jumping onto it, and landing right beside Bucky. Scooting up to snuggle into him, his left arm came around your shoulder and held you close to him; this was the life when you two didn’t have to worry about some mission. It was peaceful and always led to great moments since you would lay there and chat away all night long.

You both soaked in one another’s presence, it had been a long week away from each other; you two were on the same mission but were in separate areas as to not rise any suspicion with your target. Soon Bucky got bored and started trailing his fingers along your side, the cold metal against your warm flesh causing you to shiver. Smirking to himself as he got an idea and in a flash he had pulled you on top of him to start his attack against your soft skin.

You screeched from the shock of him pulling you onto him, and as you felt him tickle your body, you laughed loudly. Y/n quickly tries to pull away from him but he follows her movements and continued. Then he touched a spot in your side where you were most ticklish and it caused your hips to move across his lap. She was squirming as he continued his attack on her skin but soon slowed down when he saw that her face was becoming flushed with color.

Still laughing while still perched in his lap; he gently pushed the hair behind her ear and cupped her face to bring her lips forward to meet his. It didn’t take long for the kiss to become heated, Bucky falling backwards on to the sheets; Y/n could then feel the bulge that had formed against her inner thigh causing her to moan out. His fingers lacing through her hair, tugging it roughly.

Pulling away from him, she took her shirt off and flung it across the room, her breasts on full display as they perked from the cold air. His hand caressing up the curves of her body and cupped her left boob while his thumb stroked against the hardened nipple. Grounding her hips down into his, he let out a deep strangled moan. Quickly grabbing the underneath of her ass and pulled her forward to have her already wet pussy right in front of his face. Looking up at her, he silently asked for her permission and she gave him a hurriedly nod. He then ripped her panties apart, throwing them somewhere onto the floor, his large hands cupper her ass and brought her forward.

His tongue darted out, meeting the sweet flesh of your pussy; your hand reaching out to tightly clench the headboard. Shoving you more forward causing you to completely sit on his face, you let out a low moan as you felt the prickling of his stubble. Tongue darting out to swirl around your sweet pussy then sucking harshly and sending out moans causing your thighs to quiver. His metal arm coming up and swiftly entering two of his cold fingers, swirling them around while his mouth licked and sucked, moans were falling from your lips while one of your hands came down and tugged on his long locks which made him groan out.

“B-Bucky… Oh god…” She moaned out.

Y/n slowly started to move her hip against his mouth, coming closer and closer to her peak. Her stomach coiling tighter as he became more frisky then a final suck of your nub and he had you screaming out his name as your hips bucked forward, still continuing to lick and slurp as your juices flowed out.

Hands pulling away from the headboard and his hair, she crawled down to his hips. Sitting atop of him, she could tell that his bulge had grown much bigger as time had passed. She began to rock her hips against it, causing his own hips to buck upwards. She began to slowly back away from, hooking her fingers through his sweatpants and tugging them down. His large thick cock sprung free from not having any restraints.

Giving him a look, he shrugged, “What, I had a hunch.”

Y/n giggled as she smiled at him, crawling up his long muscular legs, one hand rested beside him against the silk sheets, her legs spread apart on either side of him. Her other hand reached out and tugged on his cock causing his head to dig into the bed. She began to twist her hand in a circular motion, Bucky let out hearty groans and hissed out when she slightly blew air onto his tip.

But then he stopped you before your mouth could form around his large cock, “Not tonight, doll.”

Smirking, she came up and perched herself right onto his cock, still holding it as she teased her slick core. Leaning up, she lined his cock with her hot entrance and slid down. Both letting out strangled moans as her pussy clenched around his swelling cock, she bucked her hips forward sharply. And then again while Bucky’s hands found their way up to her sweet hips, holding her flesh tightly with his large hands.

Her hips started moving slowly but began to put up speed, Bucky’s hand helping her with the speed, moving her hips back and forth. Then she moved her hips up then down in a circular motion, Bucky’s stomach clenching as he felt the sensation.

“Shit, doll.” Y/n quickly repeated the action and found herself doing so after a few forward thrusts of her hips. Her stomach was clenching tightly, her movements began to become sloppy as she started bouncing up and down his cock. He stared as her breasts followed her movements, his hand came up and groped her breast into his hand and soon her hand was over his.

Head lulling down, moans getting louder, her head then came back up as her hair was flung behind her shoulder. Leaning down to meet her lips with his, he pulled her flush against his body. His hands tightly holding her lips, moving them up and down his thick cock. Both groaning at the sensation of her pussy clenching and his cock sliding in and out of her, her arms wrapping around his neck as she held onto him tighter, Buck soon started bucking his hips upwards causing Y/n to moan out louder than before.

“I-I’m close… Oh fuuck.”

Bucky felt her tightly clench around him as his hips met up in a final thrust, both reaching their highs. Her loud moans covered by Bucky’s lips, her body quivering against his while they came down from their highs. Leaning up with her mouth agape, she looked down at him then slowly she pulled her hips away causing his juice covered cock to slip out making both of them to moan out.

Y/n made her way down his body, smirking up to him as her hand wrapped around his cock causing him to convulse forward. She wrapped her mouth around his cock, sucking slightly as she gave a quick bob of her head. Her mouth making a popping noise as she pulled his cock out and with a quirk of her eyebrows, she sweetly asked, “Round two?”

Bucky smirked at her and gave a quick nod; she quickly got to work at making it about him as her head bobbed up and down swiftly, her tongue circling around his thick base. His loud groans were music to her ears. His hand tightly holding her hair, helping with her movements, mouth wide open and eyes clenched as he thought it was going to be a very long night. And it sure was but not just for the two of them.

                                     Later in the Day.

 Y/n got up and out of bed, slightly stumbling to the side as she felt the burn between her legs. She put on the shirt from the night before and grabbed a new pair of underwear and putting on a pair of cotton shorts. Bucky watched her move around the room and as she came around the bed she gave him a quick peck on the lips. Then she was out the door heading for breakfast and Bucky soon got up and put a pair of boxers on.

Y/n didn’t get too far before a certain birdman stepped out of his room, making eye contact as she walked past him.

“Oh, don’t worry the old man sure can keep it up.” She said smirking at him while she sent him a wink.

Sam took a step back when he heard her words and stared at her with bewilderment, watching her walk away towards the kitchen. Then turned away with his mouth still wide open and saw Bucky standing in nothing but his boxers while leaning against the doorframe.

Shaking his head, he walked away while mumbling, “My god.”

Bucky laughed as he watches Sam be distraught, he couldn’t help it. In the distance he could see you sit at the counter as Natasha sent you a wink while setting a steaming cup of coffee in front of you. Feeling his eyes on you, Y/n turned her head and sent a quick flirty wink to him. God, he really was a lucky man to have someone like you in his life.

@dekahg

[ghostgetter]

now there’s no place else I could be but here in your arms

“I told you once that I’ve never been bored after you moved in. I meant that, Star.” 

For all my homies, but especially @lawchan89, @saveshootingstar, and @elladoodles. This is super corny and long. Enjoy some fluff, lads! ;) 

It’s just like one of action movies Marco likes to watch after homework: the 12 DVD series he made her watch twice during her time on Earth.

A big explosion, and the main character’s thrown across the screen. They struggle to get their bearings, and the world around them shifts and tilts and nearly crumbles (she remembers watching that part and gasping, grabbing onto Marco next to her on the couch and dropping popcorn onto the floor). The other main character runs to their side and yells things at them the character can’t hear. It’s just white noise, resonating to the audience in a fictional universe.

Except it’s real and they’ve won and she does hear him – she hears him over everything else, though a bit fuzzy and murmured. And even if she couldn’t, she’d read it on the way it leaves his lips, the way it sticks on his cheeks like red velvet spreading up towards his ears. She can see it in his eyes – how they give way to the fear and anxiety he currently feels, the same feeling she felt a mere few months ago when she confessed.

But it’s like her ears are ringing – her skull collapsing on itself (she thinks she got knocked out at some point when the roof of a bakery shop collapsed on her but she can’t really remember), and the weight brings a dull ache and whatever he just said isn’t helping.

“Wait,” Star, covered in dirt and glitter and cuts and bruises, shakes her head and hands to slow him down, slow it all down. Most of the Mewni army is celebrating a well-won victory, though there are some soldiers waiting for further orders, listening in, and she can feel the eyes of both Mewmans and Monsters bearing down on her and her best friend, a yard apart from one another. “Wait, what did you just –”

“I love you,” Marco repeats, letting words flow out in short breath, chest falling. His cape is torn and the arm that dropped his sword after the fight is dripping blood. “I love you, Star.”

That’s when the ringing stops in her ears and travels down to her chest. A light buzz, dull and soft, now echoed and constant and loud. So very loud.

She’s waited months for any sign of him feeling anything for her. Where was this coming from?

“Marco…” She looks around, eyes meeting the eager battle mates that have ceased their celebration to watch the two, “I –”

“It’s okay,” he laughs, looking off to the side in an attempt to avoid her gaze. Embarrassment creeps in after his sudden admission. “Uh, that was sorta outta nowhere and it probably freaked you out, right?” Marco’s hand rubs at the back of his neck. “Well, not really ‘outta nowhere’ – this has been kinda creeping up on me ever since you left Echo Creek. But like, after a battle it’s sorta outta nowhere, I mean. Am I rambling? I think I’m rambling. Anyway, we haven’t talked about this in a while either so it’s definitely freaked you out. I mean,” he laughs again, a little more forced this time and gestures to Star, who hasn’t looked away (as if she could), “look at you! You’re all pale and stuff – this was such a bad idea. Why did I just confess in front of everyone? Now they’re all staring at us.”

Rejection is scary, Star knows that. She’s been there – weeks ago, in front of everyone. But she had a reason to be scared. He was with someone else at the time, and he was happy, and she had to tell him; she wasn’t supposed to ever see him again. And now, months later, after what has felt like a standstill between the two of them with bursts of normalcy and sometimes what she thinks could be the hint of something blossoming, he’s shot her with a glittery blast of emotions that has left her off-balance. What was he afraid of after her Narwhal Blast-sized confession? Shouldn’t she be the one freaking out?

He spins in the other direction, shuffling in mortification towards their friends who stand in the front closest to the couple.. Which, if it were any other time, she’d totally call him out on.

“Anyway, I’m gonna –”

“Really?” Star manages to croak out, stopping Marco from escaping an embarrassing feat. When he turns back around, glancing at her with the utmost confusion, she points to herself. “You’re like, actually serious about feeling that way for me?”

“Well,” he laughs shortly, looking at her earnestly, “yeah.”

“Totally serious?”

A nod. “I’m totally serious.”

“Totally, totally, totally serious?”

“I’m totally, totally, totally serious, Star.”

“Are you sure, though? Because there was an explosion earlier and that did a real number to your hair and we don’t know the possible head trauma that came with it,” she gestures vaguely to his ridiculous tuffs of hair that stick out at odd places, while Marco pats on it sensitively. It’s her turn to ramble - stuttering and avoiding his gaze. “And frankly, I was under the impression that you didn’t even know how you felt about everything and that you needed time, and –”

“Star,” he interrupts.

She’s worried – worried it’ll backfire on her and she’ll run off crying; a repeat of his summer bash party. There’s been so much hurt for her and he doesn’t want to be a source of it anymore.

“I’ve had time. I’ve had loads of time.”

“But -”

“I spent three hours over one plate of nachos for you because you looked sad one time, and I couldn’t stand seeing you that way,” He starts, swallowing back nerves and recounting his moments with her. The ovens on Mewni were a disaster – built for cooking things only corn-based and became too hot too quickly, so he managed to burn five batches before Janna finally decided to help him out. The countless teasing about his insistence for making them wasn’t appreciated, though – jabs at how dense he was and jokes about sharing melted cheese with a potential girlfriend. She laughed at him then, and she was laughing at him now, standing across the way next to Tom.

“I got into a fight with Tad because I told him your hair was prettier than Kelly’s.” Star laughs at that, tucking a strand behind her ear while a loud ‘Hey!’ is heard behind him.

“I gave you three of my hoodies because I noticed you liked wearing them as capes.” Pony Head had caught him walking in and out of her empty room with them, a glowing unicorn horn threateningly greeting his presence after dropping them off. She called him an idiot when he told her what he did – a dense idiot who didn’t know what he was doing to her best friend by doing that.

Pony Head remembers, clearly. “You’re still an idiot for that!”

Marco shakes his head solemnly, still paying attention only to Star, who could only gape back at him. “Not as much of an idiot as when your parents hosted that celebratory ball.” He hears Tom groan – probably with a roll of all three of his eyes. “I was miserable that entire night because other royal consorts were able to dance with you more than I could.” Star remembers that night too – Marco as handsome as ever, in shoulder tassels and white cloth and looking so downtrodden until she approached him with a curtsey, an outstretched hand, and an offer to dance. “I spent half the night ripping up bouquets and table cards and even then – even after Tom called me out on how jealous I felt, I had no idea why I was acting that way.”

“I did!”

“Thanks, Tom,” Marco tilts his head towards his friend, who replies with a sardonic thumbs-up. He exhales and looks back to Star, her expression expectant and eyes beginning to water.

“I’ve spent hours sitting on the sidelines just watching you master spells with your mom and tossing you juice pouches when you looked parched.” The Queen regards them both quietly, a soft expression as she watches them both. She’s been there before, with River, who stands next to her with his own silent affection and offers his hand. Moon’s eyes drop away from her daughter and Marco, from a sight that brings back her own fond memories, to her husband’s offered hand. She takes it, squeezing it gently.

“And on top of everything, I followed you to fight a battle that isn’t my own. I followed as soon as you told me how you felt and left without any explanation, and I fought for you. And I’m still fighting, and I always will be as long as you need me to,” he swallows and sighs.  

“Because I’m in love with you, Star. You’re my best friend and I’m in love with you. I know that now.”

Her tears let loose at that point, a happy sob escaping her lips. It’s frustration and heartache finally releasing from her charred up chest and he tears up because of it. He steps closer.

“What about,” Star sniffs, wiping at her wet cheeks with the front of her wrists and choking back tears, “What about us going back to how we were before?”

“You’re my best friend, and I didn’t want that to change. So I thought a lot of these things were just that – us going back to the way things were,” he shrugs, huffing a little. His cluelessness the past couple of weeks now frustrate him as much as it frustrated their friends. “And, yeah, maybe I still want things to be the same in the end. But there are things that I kept feeling for you that I couldn’t ignore anymore, and I guess I just finally caught on to what my heart wanted.”

He reaches for her palms, clammy and covered in grime, just like his, and brings them up to hold in his own.

“I told you once that I’ve never been bored after you moved in. I meant that, Star. And if you’re okay with it,” his thumb traces against the scabs that have been left over from previous fights – the ones he’s already memorized, “I’d like to never be bored ever again. With you.”

He doesn’t get a voiced answer. Instead, she tackles him into a hug and buries her face into the crook of his shoulder and holds on tight, arms wrapped around his. His hoodie becomes damp and her cries become muffled. He wants to hug her back – to wrap her tight and bury his face into her hair and never let go, but there’s a shooting pain that stabs consistently at his limb and it’s blinding -

“Arm,” Marco squawks, “Arm. Arm. Arm.”

“Oh, right,” she doesn’t go far after releasing him. “Right, right. Sorry.”

“It’s, uh, it’s fine,” he chuckles lightly. “Just kinda sore from the whole…explosion thing.”

“Yeah,” she sniffs, her right hand clearing most of the tears she’s managed to subside. Star brings the other hand gently up to his face, cupping his cheek. She examines him a little more carefully – a bruise is forming on the right side of his forehead, and there’s a cut by his left ear, but other than that and his arm he seems mostly undamaged. “That must’ve hurt a bit.”

Star’s hand is dry and dirty on his skin but it’s still warm to the touch. His cheek heats under her palm while her thumb traces back and forth where his mole sits. There are still traces tear tracks on her hearts and he raises his own fingers to dry them off, and his touch leaves static that jumps between both of them. It’s the kind of static that makes your heart jump, the kind where you feel it race up your arms and fill your chest. It’s transmissible – just like the smile that spreads across her face.

“Hey Marco?”

He swallows, watching her head tilt up towards him, “Yeah?”

“I love you, too.”

And she presses onto her toes and kisses him with a force that makes him reel back, catch his footing, and hold on.  

It is kinda like those action movies he’d make her watch – with his arm reaching around her waist to keep himself steady and kiss her to the sounds of cheers and affection from warriors and friends alike. And it’s real – they’re real, and for the first time ever for him, love is real too. It’s not pretend, because he’s feeling it right now, against her tear-stained lips that won’t stop smiling and making their teeth clack. He feels it in his cheeks that are hot under her touch, in the grip of his hands against her waist because she isn’t close enough. He feels it when he thinks of spending every Thursday under a warm fuzzy blanket with her – or even every lonely, quiet moment with the loudest girl he knows.

Janna wolf-whistles in the back and he’s brought out of his thoughts back to reality – where, while it feels like it’s only them two, they’re also surrounded by joyous and rambunctious friends (and her parents. He shoves that thought in the back of his mind as soon as it settles in, though).

When Star lets go and he rests his forehead against hers, he opens her eyes to see her looking up at him, a light smile biting back infectious laughter. It’s the happy kind that makes you feel like you have wings (in her case, they flutter – he hears them beat wildly behind her hair) and feel like you can fly, and he loves it. He loves her.

It’s real, and he knows she feels it all too.

[jarpadandjensenaremyheroes]

The Little Princess: Chapter 11

A/n- First of all, Dean and Jo is pretty much the only ship I have for SPN (and I went down with that one HARD). But for this story, it worked well to have her bitter and angsty. Secondly, a huge thanks to @petrovadixon for getting my creative juices flowing! Because of her, I was able to get this chapter out and down on paper, and have two more planned and started! It would have taken me FOREVER to get anything out if it wasn’t for her creative ideas. Thanks hun!!!

*EDIT: I realize that the way I worded the talk about adoption and abortion made it sound like that’s something I am against. I don’t believe adoption or abortion is selfish or wrong by any means. I am a pro choice activist. It is a decision to be made by the woman carrying the child and no one else. So please, I don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea. Your decisions are your decisions and there will never be any judgement from me. <3

Word count: 2,294

Warnings: Tiny little bit of angst, fluff, Jo being a bitch, TW: some self-doubt/self-bashing. Minor amounts of cussing.

Chapter summary: Ellen meets Mary, and you have an interesting encounter with Jo.

Characters: Ellen Harvelle, Jo Harvelle, Dean Winchester, OFC Mary Winchester, Reader

Need to catch up? HERE is the masterlist!

Chapter 11

As you pulled into the parking lot of the roadhouse, Jo came outside. She had heard the heavy rumble of the Impala. She seemed completely oblivious to you and your daughter in the backseat. Dean climbed out of the car after giving your hand a squeeze and was thrown off balance when Jo jumped into his arms. You watched from the car with jealousy and anger as she shamelessly flirted with your boyfriend. She wasn’t taking his hints to get off him and finally he pushed her away as she let out a whine and stood there clinging to him. Jealousy overcame you as you climbed out of the car, clearing your throat when you were in view of them. Jo scowled at you.

“I thought you left him. What are you doing here? Trying to mend his shattered heart?” She almost spat the words at you.

You put on your best fake smile for her. “Actually little girl, I’m here with him to introduce our daughter to friends.” Jo’s face paled. “Wanna meet her? Or are you gonna continue throwing yourself all over my man?”

She disentangled herself from Dean, who seemed almost pleased you had come to his rescue. He shot you a look that screamed I’m sorry but you just waved it off. Before Jo could stomp off and ruin the surprise you had planned for her mother, you grabbed her arm and looked her right in the eyes.

“You may not like me and I understand that, but your momma helped me when I needed it most and she deserves a happy thing every once in a while. So you don’t say a word about me and Dean and the baby. You let her have this. Not for me, but for her. Got it?”

She scowled at you once more, but made it clear she understood with a tiny nod of her head.

You turned around to get Mary out of the car, but Dean was already holding her, swinging around in the gravel lot. This is so perfect you thought to yourself. You knew your thought was reflected in your smile though. Dean walked up, returning your smile and took your hand in his to walk you inside. As soon as you crossed the threshold of the door, you saw Ellen back behind the bar. A few other hunters you knew were straggling around the bar, but you and Dean only wanted the attention of Ellen. You approached the bar and Dean spoke softly but gruffly.

“What’s a guy gotta do to get a drink ‘round here?”

Ellen whipped around clearly intent on giving Dean a sassy retort, but as soon as she laid eyes on you and Mary, her whole face went slack with shock.

“My word…I didn’t think I’d ever get to see you again Y/N.” She turned her eyes to Mary who was still in Dean’s arms. “Is…is that who I think it is?”

You were beaming with pride, as was Dean. With tears in your eyes you spoke for the first time.

“It is. Ellen, meet Mary Grace Winchester.” Moving closer to Mary, you pointed at Ellen. “Mary, this is your Aunt Ellen.”

Mary cooed and giggled as she shyly reached for Ellen across the bar.

Ellen had tears in her eyes as well. “Let me come around and hold you baby.”

She came around the other side of the bar and Mary’s eyes followed her the whole way. She practically launched herself out of Dean’s arms once Ellen was close. Apparently the shyness was short lived. She giggled and screeched as Ellen began tickling her and playing with her. Having an idea, you took Mary from Ellen’s arms. Seeing the sad look on Ellen’s face, you quickly said, “just watch. You’ll have her back in just a second. You took a few steps back and set Mary on the floor. She quickly stood up using the leg of your pants as leverage and began toddling towards the older woman.

Ellen dropped to her knees with an exclamation of, “OH! She’s walking already!” She couldn’t contain her laughter as Mary fell into her chest, giggling and cooing at the woman.

Dean came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist as he softly whispered in your ear, “I love you, Y/N. I love our perfect little family. I’ve never been happier in my life.”

You grinned as you turned your face towards his, giving his stubbled cheek a soft, lingering kiss. “I love you too Dean Winchester. I just wish our folks could be here to see our perfect little family… But Ellen and Bobby are more than enough.”

The three of you sat and talked for hours, watching Mary toddle around between you. Things were going great, up until Jo came stumbling over to the table you were sitting at; she reeked of tequila and you didn’t have time to prepare for the onslaught that came with it.

“You, Y/N, are the most selfish bitch I have ever met. You had a relationship with one of the most amazing, brave, and selfless men we know, and you threw it all away. You took his child away from him without even giving him a chance and kept him in the dark. Who does that? All he’s ever wanted was a shot at normal, a family, and you kept it from him. Some of us would happily give him that and more!”

Ellen was glaring at her daughter. “Jo that’s enough.” But Jo just waved her mother off and continued.

“I don’t know what he ever saw in you, or what he sees in you now. 20 bucks says you take off on him again. You’re too selfish to ever give him the chance he deserves. He’d be better off if he had never saved you back in Milwaukee. At least if you were dead he’d have some closure. He wouldn’t have to deal with this shit show of a sham. So fuck you. I doubt that’s even Dean’s kid with the whore that you are!”

“JOANNA BETH I SAID THAT’S ENOUGH!” Ellen’s voice was booming. Jo seemed to snap out of whatever trance she was in. Still fuming, she stormed back upstairs where she had come from.

You pried your hand away from Dean’s and ran outside, praying no one would follow you. But your prayers went unnoticed when your heard Dean calling after you and the heavy thumping of his boots on the gravel.

“Dean please don’t. Not right now. I knew she would be upset about this if she was here, but I didn’t think she would do this. I don’t know how to handle this and quite honestly, I don’t want to right now. I just want a few minutes alone.”

“Princess please…Jo is just drunk. It doesn’t excuse the behavior at all; but you gotta understand I was a mess after you left. I missed you so bad. I came here looking for you and Jo got sour when I turned down her advances. She talked about you and tried to get me to see reason, but the more she talked, the more I wanted to find you, and that pissed her off. I don’t think she means any of it. I’m the one she’s pissed at, she’s just taking it out on you. I’m so sorry Y/N. Please just come back inside and we’ll sort this out.”

The tears spilled over your eyes and you lost it. “She’s right though Dean! I am a selfish bitch. I didn’t once think of how you and Sam would feel or how this would affect Mary’s life. I just left and spent almost two years lying to you. But for what it’s worth, Mary is your daughter. There was no one else besides yo-”

“Y/N stop. I never once doubted you. I knew there was no one else. Even after, I know there was no one after me. There was never anyone for me either. Jo is not right. She young and doesn’t understand that you made a hard decision. An impossible decision made in the best interests of our little girl. Y/N, you are not selfish. Selfish would have been staying and trying to hunt while pregnant. Or leaving a newborn with someone like Jo to go hunt. You were anything but selfish. You gave up your whole life, everything you knew, to take care of a whole new human. You could have easily given her up for adoption, or had an abortion, but you didn’t. You gave her a shot at a normal life. None of that is selfish. Do you understand? Jo doesn’t need to like or understand what decisions were made and why. It’s none of her damn business. What happened is between you and me, and no one else. I don’t hold those decisions against you and I never will, so I need you to stop doing it to yourself. I love you. Only you. Nothing anyone else says is going to change that. Especially not some jealous brat! She can tell me anything in the world, and it wouldn’t change my mind about you and how I feel for you. Please don’t let this come between us…”

You burst into tears again and Dean just held you. It felt like this was all you could do with this man. You felt weak and undeserving. He deserves so much better than this. As if he could read your thoughts, he sat you down on the hood of Baby and tipped your head back to look at him.

“You are enough. You are more than enough. Mary is an absolute blessing, and if I’m being totally honest…I had never even thought about having that with anyone until you. You, Y/N, with your strong will and stubborn as hell personality, are the first woman in…well, ever, to make me want to settle down and have a family. I haven’t, don’t, and won’t ever want that with anyone other than you. You’re my princess. I know everything has happened so fast the last few days, but I need you. I need you in so many ways. Please, just…please believe me when I say you are more than I deserve.” He punctuated his last sentence with a soft kiss to your lips that conveyed all the emotion his words couldn’t.

This man actually loves me.

You let him hold you there until you had stopped crying. You took his outstretched hand and walked back inside with him, hoping that Jo would continue to make herself scarce for the evening. You weren’t sure you would be able to control yourself next time she said something or threw herself at Dean; and you really didn’t want to hit the poor girl. You were relieved when you saw only Ellen holding Mary; no Jo in sight. As you approached her, she called out to you.

“Does Bobby know y’all are back together yet? Lord knows he got tired of hearing Dean’s whining,” she said with a chuckle.

Dean rolled his eyes and huffed. “No, we were going to surprise him next, so don’t ruin it for us, okay?”

She just laughed as she nodded her head.

“Speaking of Bobby, we should probably start heading that way. Whatdya say princess?”

You didn’t really think spending the night at the roadhouse with Jo was a good plan. “Yeah we probably should. It’s about nap time for the little one anyways. And she’s never slept as well as she has in the Impala these last couple days. She’s just like her daddy.” You giggled at that a little.

“Excuse me? If I remember correctly, it’s always been you who passed out in the back seat before we had made it 5 miles from anywhere.” He shot you a pointed glare.

“That’s only because you refuse to let anyone else drive your precious Baby,” you retorted, making him redden in embarrassment. “That’s what I thought,” you added when he was silent.

Ellen could only laugh at the quick exchange. “You two haven’t changed one bit! Let me at least get y’all some food for the road if you insist on heading out. I can’t say I blame ya after Joanna’s little outburst earlier. Y/N, please know that you and Mary are always welcome here. No matter what my brat of a teenager says. My place, my rules, and y’all are family. You can come on over whenever you’d like. So don’t you keep that beautiful little girl from me for too long, ya hear?”

“I promise I won’t Ellen. She already loves you so much, how could I keep her away?”

She ran to the kitchen and grabbed some burgers and fries for you and Dean, and some apple slices, grapes, and fries for Mary.

“If you need the apples or grapes cut up smaller I can do that for you. Don’t want the little thing choking in the car. Daddy would have a fit! Wouldn’t he baby?” she was asking Mary.

Ellen gave all three of you hugs and walked you out to the car, apologizing once again for her daughter’s behavior. The goodbye quickly became a little misty-eyed and you got Mary in her car seat and situated with her snacks, which she was squealing about. She really loves her food. You turned around and gave Ellen one last hug, thanking her for everything she had done for you and your little family. Then you slid into the front seat, giggling as Dean gave you a playful swat on your ass. As you rolled out of the lot you waved goodbye to Ellen, and noticed Jo glaring down at you all from her window upstairs. Some things never change.

@petrovadixon

@quackerstheduck663057

[vintage-story-time]

Her Mother's Lover

Chapter 6

The weekend finally came and the night of the party Debby and Charisse

slipped stealthily away from Greystokes to meet their escorts.

"Thank goodness no one spotted us leaving - now our only problem is

getting back in after the party's over!" Debbie giggled.

"Let's worry about that when we come to it," Charisse said, "is that the

boy's car coming now?"

The red sports sedan slowed as it came towards them and dimmed its

lights twice.

"Yes, that's the gang!", Debbie said excitedly. "Here we go!"

The car stopped and Ralph got out. Debbie introduced Charisse and then

got in the back seat with Ralph while Charisse was ushered into the

front seat by the boy who was her date. Much to her surprise, she found

there was another boy driving and she was wedged in between them. There

was also another boy in the back besides Ralph and Debbie was sitting

between them both.

"Meet Jerry and George," Debbie called to Charisse from the back seat.

"And this fellow in the back with Ralph and me is Frank."

"Don't tell me, let me guess," Jerry said as he put his arms around

Charisse's waist. "You're the famous Mamma Mantell's daughter! How come

Debbie could talk you into a date with us small- town hicks?"

Charisse was a little taken aback by Jerry's hostile attitude right off

the bat. And she didn't care for his hand around her either, the very

first minute they had met, but she kept quiet.

"Hey, Jerry, cut it out!" Debbie said from the back seat. "I thought you

promised to be nice!"

"Okay, I'll be nice," Jerry mumbled and Charisse saw that all the boys

had been drinking and were a little high. "I'll be nice because she's

got such a swell figure, yes sir, quite a pair of knockers!" Jerry

added.

"It looks like these boys aren't losing any time," Charisse thought to

herself. She tried to move away a little from Jerry, but he only clasped

her waist more tightly.

"Don't be bashful, beautiful. We may not be as sophisticated as the big

city slickers you go out with, but . . . " he leered, "you'll find out

we have a thing or two on the ball! Both balls!"

George, at the driver's seat, glanced at her at these words of Jerry's

and grinned. He looked more mature than the other two boys and was

taller and huskier. Charisse thought she'd try a little flattery on him

so that at least one of the boys would be friendly to her.

"Aren't you the George Holden with the Town Volunteer Fire Brigade, the

one that rescued the two kids that went through the ice this winter? I

remember reading about you - that was wonderful!"

"Just happened to be around," George mumbled and flushed. "It was just

luck I happened to be around!"

But Charisse thought she had softened him up a bit and was heartened.

"Looks like this gal has a soft spot for you," Jerry said, "I just hope

you aren't going to keep her all to yourself, buddy, ole buddy." His

hand began inching up towards Charisse's breast.

"Don't worry pard," George said grinning, "looks like there's enough tit

there for the two of us! Plenty of ass too, from what I can see!"

"Okay pal," Jerry answered, "you just tell me which half you prefer . .

. I think the little lady might get worried if the two of us grabbed for

the same spot at the same time!"

All the boys laughed at this remark by Jerry, but something about the

tone of the talk and the mannerisms of these boys was beginning to make

Charisse uneasy. She tried to hunch down in the seat and by making

herself as inconspicuous as possible, direct attention to Debbie. She

only partially succeeded, because George put his hand on her knee and

started feeling between her legs. Then she gasped because Jerry had

placed his hands full on her breasts and was squeezing and massaging

them through the silky material of her low cut blouse. George's hand was

proceeding up between her legs and feeling her inner thighs already.

"Don't you think you ought to be keeping both hands on the wheel?" she

stammered to George.

His hand went up between her legs even further, almost to her crotch in

response. And Jerry's hand was massaging her breast so strongly that her

nipples were becoming hard and erect. Small town boys or not, they

certainly didn't lose any time starting in on a girl, Charisse thought.

Jerry's hand was still massaging her breast through her silk blouse and

then she suddenly felt his other hand dip into the low cut center of the

blouse. His fingers playfully went right down the cleavage and his hand

started to feel her naked tits and search for her nipples.

"Quite a pair of knockers we have there!" Jerry announced to George.

"Glad you like them," Charisse tried to smile and wriggle her titties

away but she only succeeded in giving Jerry an extra feel.

"How's your end of this chick feel?" Jerry called over to George.

"Soft and tender, buddy," George said, feeling her inner thighs, "soft

and tender!"

"Maybe it's eating stuff, eh George," Jerry grinned.

Charisse just kept quiet. Maybe if she played along with them, this

attitude would change. She did want some consideration as a girl, as an

individual. Here these boys were feeling her up and sizing up her

anatomy as if she were a cow being brought to market. More than anything

else, she realized that her inferiority complex about her mother's

reputation made her crave the friendship of people in her own age group.

And even more than friendship, she desperately wanted their respect.

This was one of the big reasons she had gone out on this date with

Debbie. She wanted to "belong," to be accepted by her generation. And

for that she was ready to make a lot of concessions.

She looked towards the back seat to see how Debbie was doing. The sight

there was surprising. Debbie was completely stretched out on the back

seat, one leg dangling down. On their knees beside her, like two

kneeling worshippers, Ralph and Frank had her skirt up around her waist

and were both feeling her up. Their hands played between her legs and

moved on right up to her crotch. Charisse was puzzled at Ralph's

acceptance of Frank's intimate fondling of Debbie's pussy region.

Debbie's eyes were wide open, but they seemed to be concentrating on the

feeling the boy's busy hands were arousing, she was panting and low

moans were coming from her parted lips. She didn't seem to mind the fact

that both boys were caressing her so intimately and apparently so

pleasurably. Charisse had only seen group sexual intercourse in the

pictures of Debbie's scrapbook and never dreamed that she would soon be

seeing it right before her very eyes. She was as if hypnotized by the

sight of Debbie being worked over by the two boys.

Ralph abruptly pulled her sweater over her head, and at the sight of

Debbie's brassiere-clad breasts couldn't help beginning to kiss the

satiny skin between her cleavage. He slowly began to edge his fingers

under her bra cups, and began to play and tweak her big pink nipples.

Suddenly, one of his hands undid her bra clasp and her titties

practically popped out of the top of the slack bra.

"That feels so good," Debbie breathed as he began to touch and rub her

nipples until they were stiffly erect. Then he began to massage the

breasts themselves, kneading them with his strong fingers. Debbie's

asscheeks began to wriggle with the sheer sensation he was producing in

her body. Ralph kept on massaging her tits and then lifted the bra up

completely.

"You really do have some pair of knockers, Debbie," he panted. "I just

love to squeeze them in my hands!"

Charisse was growing more embarrassed by the second, for Debbie as well

as herself. She knew the boys in the front seat were aware of what was

happening to Debbie in the back seat and that she was watching, too

fascinated to turn away. Jerry and George both smiled knowingly at each

other; they knew that Charisse was getting plenty warmed up by watching

the back seat sexual play.

Charisse was actually beginning to feel her cunt-juice begin to flow, a

sure sign of arousal in her. The two boys in the back were pictures of

obscene lust as one continued to feel Debbie's tits and the other around

her pussy. She wondered why Debbie was letting them practically disrobe

her and screw her when there were three of her friends right in the

front seat.

Frank's hand was running up and down over her bush-hair as Debbie

wriggled her ass every time Ralph squeezed her nipples or her titties.

The next time she wriggled her hips, Frank put his hand right under her

buttocks. His face burned with lust as he felt her tender, lush

asscheeks. He groaned with desire as the feel of her ass began to drive

him wild

"Hold on, you bugger," Ralph said, "don't try to hog everything for

yourself."

They all acted as if they were completely alone, so immersed were the

boys and Debbie in their frigging around. Debbie began churning her

asscheeks lustfully, and this gave Frank a chance to put his hands right

inside her panties, feeling her thick black bush with his fingers. He

worked away at her bush and gradually began to move her panties downward

until they no longer covered her pussy, but were practically at her

knees.

As her pussy was completely exposed, Frank began to feel for her cunt.

His hands touched her pink, wet cuntlips and then he parted them with

his fingers. As Debbie felt him touch her cunt, her thighs quivered with

ecstasy and she spread her legs apart a little more. Frank's hands now

could play with and fondle her pussy without any hindrance.

Ralph was still playing with her lush tits, which were heaving and

bouncing voluptuously with the turning of her ass as Frank fooled around

with her twat. Ralph was just as excited by her knockers as Frank was

with her cunt. He buried his face between them and slobbered up and down

each tit, kissing each nipple in turn. Charisse could see that the

pinkly erect nipples were covered with Ralph's glistening saliva.

Frank's fingers were still playing with her bush and her cuntlips. First

his fingers massaged near the apex of her cuntlips, where her clitoris

was becoming very erect, then they would slip down a bit to the entrance

of her cunt. Suddenly he pushed two of his fingers right into Debbie's

cunt-hole.

Debbie gasped as the fingers sank in up to his knuckles and her

asscheeks wriggled with pleasure.

"You really have a very sexy cunt, baby!" Frank muttered hoarsely as he

slid his fingers in and out of her slippery hole. He had his face so

close to Debbie's twat that Charisse expected him to suck her cunt

momentarily. Ralph was mouthing her nipples and trying to suck her whole

breast into his mouth with such gusto, that it looked like titty was his

favorite dish. Frank didn't actually suck Debbie's cunt, he just had his

lips on her thighs, kissing and nibbling them as he kept up his rhythmic

finger-fucking of her twat.

Debbie was making small, squealing, pleasurable sounds as the two

lust-crazed youths in the back worked her over, Ralph on her tits and

Frank on her cunt. How could Debbie do this, Charisse wondered, how

could she expose her intimate parts practically to public view? How

could she let two men fondle her while she knew Charisse and the other

two boys could see everything that was going on?

Charisse, in the meantime, had her problems. George's strong hand was

now squeezing one of her tits, while Jerry's hands were running up and

down her inner thighs, and brushing up against her crotch. Each of these

guys' hands like an octopus and they all seemed to be feeling an imitate

part of her body at the same time.

"Hey you characters in the back seat!" George suddenly grumbled. "You

better cut out all that horny smooching around, or you'll be all outa

steam by the time we get to the party!!"

Charisse thought she heard Debbie whisper, "Tell them to mind their own

frigging business . . . " but she wasn't sure she heard right.

She was having a rough time with these boys feeling her up as if they

were about to rape her any minute now. Debbie was actually having a good

time, from the way things looked and sounded on the back seat, but

Charisse was uncomfortable because of the vulgar way they were feeling

her up. And to top it off, she could feel her clitoris hardening with

excitement and her cunt-juice dribbling between her cuntlips as she

herself was becoming aroused in spite of herself. It was a real weird

situation and she hoped the car would reach the party quickly. The way

things were going, somebody in the back seat might shoot a hot load of

sperm right over into the front seat anytime now . . . she didn't want

to receive it down her neck, or full in the face as she watched!

All of a sudden she saw Frank open his fly as he was kissing Debbie's

thighs. He took his huge thick cock in his right hand and cradled it

there as his lips worked up to Debbie's cunt. She could see his tongue

part Debbie's wet, pink cuntlips and then his whole mouth was

cuntlapping Debbie's twat as if it were the best thing he had ever

tasted in his life.

As his tongue reached her clitoris, Debbie squealed, "If you keep that

up you're gonna make me come right here in the car . . . aaaaaagh!"

Frank was jerking off his own cock with his other hand, moving the

foreskin rapidly up and down, exposing and then covering the head of his

huge dong as he cuntlapped Debbie.

"The hell with the party," Frank lifted his head and muttered, "I'm

gonna put my cock up your twat right now before I go crazy . . I don't

want to waste the load of hot come I been saving just for you on the

goddamn seat cushion!

"Lay off, Romeo," she heard Ralph growl. "You know the rules, I fuck my

girl first! You know you're not supposed to even screw another guy's

girl unless he's given you permission.

Frank still was working the foreskin on his cock back and forth, but he

made no move to shove it up Debbie's cunt.

"C'mon, buddy," Ralph continued, "button up that cock of yours so that

you arrive at the party looking like a gentleman . . . "

Frank stopped jerking off as he heard Ralph speak, but his cock was

still out in the open. He let out a yell as Ralph grabbed his cock and

tried to push the rigid dick back into Frank's pants.

"Leggo my cock, you bastard!" Frank shouted "Can't you see I got to wait

until my hard-on goes down before I can get this dick back in my pants?"

Debbie's asscheeks were still churning on the seat, she had gotten so

hot with Frank's cuntlapping that she had an irresistible urge to come.

She had almost hoped that Frank would have shoved his cock in and fucked

her then and there. His dick was so thick and virile that she probably

would have come with just those plunges of his prick into her cunt.

Ralph was still playing with her lush knockers, and that wasn't helping

matters any either.

"You know, babe," he told her, "I can practically see the steam rising

from your pussy, you're so damned horny tonight! Just save all that heat

till we get to the party and then you can serve us hot pussy a' la

carte!"

"You're mean," Debbie pleaded, "you know damn well I can come ten times

to your one - so why don't you at least let Frankie finish me off this

once with his mouth . . . there'll still be plenty left to go around at

the party!"

Ralph kept quiet and just kneaded her tits, while Frank kept away from

her twat.

"We're going to get to the party soon, now,"' Jerry said, "so make

yourselves look respectable, you shameless people!"

Charisse tried to smooth her ruffled skirt and adjust her blouse and her

hair, all at the same time. She knew she must look like an awful mess.

What a way to show up at a party!

"You don't look half-bad, baby," George said to her, "but your friend in

the back looks as if she's just done a strip-tease!"

And as a matter of fact, Debbie did look practically naked as she

fumbled with her bra and tried to pull up her panties again, on the back

seat. Ralph very carefully helped her put her tits in the bra cups,

giving each one a farewell feel as he closed the snap. Then he just as

carefully helped her pull up her panties, giving her bush and cuntlips a

good feel in the process.

"With helping hands like yours, who needs to get laid?" Debbie quipped

with a grin on her face as she wriggled her twat away from his questing

fingers.

As Charisse looked out the car window she could see nothing but

darkness, night was all around, enveloping the ear. A little uneasy

about the desolate appearance of the area, she asked where they were.

Upon being told they were in the country, about fifteen miles from town,

she felt more relieved. It seemed that the boy's friend, the one who was

throwing the party, liked the peace and isolation of the suburbs.

"I'd like a shot of some of that firewater you braves have been drinking

tonight. Just to settle my stomach; I'm a little shaky after all that

backseat fooling around . . . " Debby said.

"But of course, Countess," Ralph said with more gallantry, handing her a

silver flask. "Have one on me!"

Debby tilted the flask and took a few swallows. She lifted the flask

from her lips and started coughing and choking.

"Wow! what did you put in your flask, liquid nitroglycerin? I feel as if

the top of my head's just blown off!!" Debbie said in a hoarse whisper.

"That's some real corn-likker from Carolina!" Ralph said smiling. "It's

uncut just as it comes from the still. A friend of mine sends it to me.

Down there they call it 'white lightnin'!"

"Well, I sure feel as if the 'white lightnin' struck me," Debby said.

"Want to try some of this, Charisse?"

Charisse really didn't want any of the potent stuff, but she wanted to

be considered a good sport by the group, so she took a generous slug.

The moment she had downed the corn liquor, she started to sputter and

cough even worse than Debbie had. But just to build up the image of a

"good girl" before the boys and Debbie, she gamely took another couple

of shots from the flask. She really did feel as if she had been struck

by lightning this time, but she didn't cough or sputter as the liquor

burned its way down her stomach.

Now the car was pulling into a long, rustic driveway flanked by a double

row of majestic-looking pine trees. Even though her head was reeling,

Debbie could see a big, rustic type of house looming up at the end of

the driveway.

The boys stopped in the driveway and parked the car near the cabin. As

they piled out, Charisse could see that there were some other cars

around and hoped that the people at the party would turn out to be nicer

than the boys they were with. As she got out of the car, she felt a

little shaky and nauseous, but she put it down less to the drink of

"white lightning" than the crude mauling she had been subjected to. As

she began to head for the house, she felt much better - perhaps she had

been too cramped on the front seat in addition to the bold "petting" she

had undergone.

"Hey, wait for us," Jerry called after her, as she headed for the door,

"the owner is a stranger to you and you need us to introduce you."

"This place looks deserted," Charisse exclaimed as she approached, "are

you sure we've come to the right house?"

"Oh, it's the right place all right," Jerry laughed, "maybe they've

turned the lights out to play kissing games!"

Charisse wondered how Debbie felt about the situation, but apparently

Debbie felt confidence in Ralph and his friends because all she said was

"Let's get inside already, I'm getting cold standing around in this

night air . . . "

Now Charisse began to doubt the wisdom of having gone on this date

altogether. True, she wanted to be accepted by Debbie and her boy

friends, but she hadn't counted on two fellows as escorts for the night.

This seemed to be what she was getting as she walked towards the door,

flanked by George and Jerry. The whole thing was making her feel very

nervous, she was completely prepared to have sexual relations with her

date; after all, she was no longer a virgin. But she had read newspaper

stories of "gang-bangs" and "line-ups" by groups of horny youths and

men, and memories of the terrible ordeals of unprotected girls were

making her jittery.

Much to her surprise, the character who welcomed them at the door turned

out to be a woman. Sally, as she was introduced, was a woman in her

early thirties. Extremely attractive and with a voluptuous figure which

the hippie costume of an oversized maroon silk blouse, festooned with

beads, and tight slacks scarcely concealed, she said in a low contralto

voice, "Peace, children! Welcome to the hash bash - come in and refresh

your weary souls with a short trip!"

Jerry told Sally who the girls were and the exotically dressed woman

bowed to them with a somewhat mocking smile on her full lips and

motioned them all inside.

"Where are we supposed to sit?" Charisse whispered to Jerry. "I don't

see any chairs!"

"There aren't any," he answered, "you just sit on some of those pillows

and rugs.

The only furniture in the place seemed to consist of queer wrought-iron

floor lamps which had flickering candles instead of electric lights, a

couple of low coffee tables, and piles of multi- colored cushions and

rugs strewn around haphazardly. A record player was turned on low, but

Charisse could see no couples dancing to the rock music. As a matter of

fact, the only other people as Charisse's eyes became accustomed to the

dim light seemed to be exclusively boys.

Seeing the strained look on Charisse's and Debbie's face, Sally said,

Oh, we expect some more couples later on. Up until you girls came it's

been more or less of a stag evening. But do find a comfortable spot and

take it easy while I bring you some refreshments."

"Look, George, are there going to be any more girls at this party

tonight?" Charisse asked with a strained look on her face. "This looks

like a stag party we dropped in on by mistake! And what kind of

'refreshments' is Sally bringing up? After that 'white lightning' in the

car, I don't think I could touch another drop of liquor tonight.

"Aren't you the worry wart!" Debbie laughed instead of giving her the

moral support she was looking for. "Relax and enjoy yourself, the boys

and Sally are O.K."

"You might as well know, Charisse, Ralph chimed in, "that you're in for

a great experience - we're all going on a trip via some LSD. That's the

refreshment that Sally supplies and it's out of this world, kid!"

"But I've heard that some people go out of their minds after taking

LSD," Charisse quavered as she sat on a pile of cushions next to Jerry

and George.

"Ah, that's just 'square' propaganda, they try to padlock all the real

groovy things in life . . . " Jerry said. "There's nothing to be afraid

of, we've taken 'trips' at Sally's place. You'll like it once you try it

. . . "

She looked towards Debbie, but her friend was lying against a pile of

cushions nearby, and Ralph and Frank were busily feeling her up already.

"Well, here are our 'tickets' for the trip," George said, as Sally

approached them with a tray on which there were tall glasses of Coke

with ice cubes tinkling inside. Next to each glass of Coke there was a

small china saucer with a cube of white sugar gleaming in the center.

George took a Coke and a saucer with the sugar for Jerry, Charisse and

himself.

"The thing I like about Sally's place is that her LSD is always pure,

the only time you get a bad trip is when the stuff's been cut or

doctored up to save money," Jerry told Charisse.

"Now just do exactly what I do," George told Charisse. He took the sugar

cube, put it between his teeth and began to sip the Coke. "The idea is

to dissolve the sugar slowly, and then you just sit back and relax . . .

"

Charisse watched wide-eyed as the sugar cube slowly melted as George

sipped the Coke.

Jerry shoved her sugar cube between her teeth and told her, "C'mon,

start drinking your coke - don't be a party pooper!"

Charisse saw that Debbie was drinking her Coke, as were Ralph and Frank.

She was afraid of all this, but to freak out now would really make her a

drop-out from this "in" group she was trying to cultivate and join in

with. Slowly, she began to sip her Coke. It was warmish, in spite of the

ice cubes floating in it' and the melting sugar cube in her mouth just

made it taste sweeter.

"Are you fellows putting me on?" she asked as she finished her Coke and

sugar cube. "This tasted just like a sweet Coke, and it was too warm, at

best!"

"Take it easy, baby," Jerry said, "you'll be starting on your trip any

second now - and so will the rest of us!"

Charisse sat quietly between Jerry and George for a few minutes,

observing that everybody else was being served Cokes and sugar cubes on

saucers by Sally. Suddenly she began to feel different somehow. Actual

"waves" of well-being seemed to be radiating from her belly throughout

her body. The good feeling began washing through her head, making her

feel strangely happy, and banishing all her previous fears. Everyone at

the party seemed to be so nice, Debbie, Ralph, Frank, Jerry and George -

what wonderful people they really were!

"Look at all the wonderful colors in this room," Charisse marveled to

George and Jerry. "They seem to be sifting and becoming so gleaming and

beautiful every second - and I thought this place was kind of drab!"

"Looks like you're gonna have a good trip, baby," George comforted her.

"They always are when you start out seeing colors."

Jerry was feeling her ass, but that was all right, Charisse thought,

everything was all right. They were all face spirits floating in a world

of color and now there was wonderful music in the background too. She

looked over at Debbie and saw she was lying on her back, propped up a

bit by some cushions that were under her back and her head. Her skirt

was hiked up to her waist and her bush-hair and cuntlips were completely

exposed. There was a smile on Debbie's face and she seemed to be gazing

at some object in space as she lustfully wriggled her asscheeks. Ralph

and Frank seemed to lean over her and fuss with her clothes without the

slightest objection from Debbie.

George began feeling Charisse's breasts through her blouse, but she

didn't object. She looked over again at Debbie and saw that most of her

clothes were off. All she had on was her garter-belt, stockings and bra.

She slowly unfastened her stockings and rolled them down one by one and

then raised her asscheeks to remove her garter-belt. As she did so,

Ralph and Frank grinned when they saw her completely exposed cunt.

"C'mon, Debbie, take it all off!" they both chorused with the old

burlesque-house chant. "Take it all off right now!"

Debbie was agreeable and went about unhooking her bra, and as soon as

she did, she tossed it aside. Her lush, big knockers were swinging back

and forth, the nipples looking like huge pink eyes.

Ralph had his hand on her bush and now put two of his fingers between

her exposed cuntlips, parting them gently and massaging her slit with a

slow, steady rhythm. Debbie just leaned back, her face smiling with

enjoyment and without a trace of embarrassment.

With a trace of jealousy, Charisse realized how gorgeous and voluptuous

Debbie's body really was. She was now lying completely naked between

Ralph and Frank. Now it was Ralph who was concentrating on her pussy and

Frank who was massaging her tits. Her torso began to wriggle and squirm

as the pleasure the two youths were giving Debbie became more intense.

Debbie's eyes seemed to be shining with ecstasy at every touch of her

cunt or breasts, as Ralph touched her clitoris she gasped.

As she gasped again at his touch, Ralph let his trousers down to the

floor and stepped out of them. He pulled off his jockey shorts too and

was now standing by Debbie, his big cock and balls, rigid and erect,

pulsating with cunt-hunger. Seeing his huge cock waving in her face,

Debbie reached for it. She wanted to grab it and lusted to put it in her

mouth and give Ralph a blow job. But apparently Ralph had other ideas

because he pulled his cock to one side and watched his buddy Frank

busily sucking her nipples, like a hungry baby . . .

"I want cock," Debbie panted, "give me cock, pleeeease . . . "

Ralph was more than ready to oblige her as he rolled between her

widespread legs. His hands began to massage her belly-button and then

her thick bush-hair. His fingers reached down and spread her cuntlips

gently apart, exposing her entire moist, pink slit. He began to rub her

clitoris with his fingertip, using two fingers of his other hand to

thrust up her vaginal entrance.

Debbie's body was now beginning to writhe and twist in earnest as she

gasped, "I want to come, please make me come!"

Ralph seemed to sniff near her cunt and smiled as if the aroma there

pleased him. Frank was still feeling Debbie's breasts, delightedly

pinching and rubbing her erect nipples. Then, seeing how horny and hard

up Debbie was becoming, he took out his big thick cock. It was rigid

with a terrific hard-on and he presented the head of his dick into each

of the nipples of her tits, and rubbed the shaft against the sides of

her lush knockers as well.

Ralph's mouth closed over her crisp bush hair and then his mouth moved

down into real cuntlapping position. His tongue worked rhythmically on

her erect clitoris and then alternated with her cunt-hole. The terrific

sensation in her twat was making Debbie grind her hips and ass as if she

were impaled on a forging cock, instead of in Ralph's mouth.

Frank now moved his stiff cock away from her tits and placed it next to

Debbie's lips. He grinned with satisfaction as she opened her mouth and

with a moan practically swallowed the huge head of his dick.

"A natural born cocksucker!" Frank proclaimed aloud. "Take that whole

thing in your mouth and give me a real good blow-job, baby!"

Debbie could only nod and Frank shoved so much of his cock down her

throat, that it seemed to Charisse she would choke. But to her surprise,

Debbie's wet, red lips began to move up and down on the huge shaft,

right down to Frank's very balls.

"The balls too! The balls too!" Frank began to gasp excitedly as she

sucked his throbbing cock.

Somehow the LSD made everything seem right and wonderful to Charisse.

She was no longer worried about what Jerry and George might do to her.

She was feeling very sexy now as she watched Debbie being cuntlapped by

Ralph and blowing Frank at the same time. She began to nestle closer

against Jerry and George, wanting them to cuddle her back, to start

loving her. George somehow jockeyed himself against her back, and she

could feel his muscular arms encircling her. Each hand grabbed one of

her tits and genially began to massage them with a wonderful rhythm. She

could feel his stiff prick through his pants against her ass right

through her shirt. She didn't mind in the least as he tucked up her

skirt, so that his cock-bulge was right against her panties. She began

to sway her hips gently, knowing that it was rubbing against George's

captive cock.

While she was thrilling to the feel of the big dong prodding her ass and

knowing too, that she was ripening George's hard-on, Jerry's hands were

between her legs. Working with a light touch, like a clever pick-pocket,

Jerry had her garter belt and stockings off before she knew what was

happening. Then, as he tugged at her lacy panties, she wriggled to help

him along as he worked them down over her ass and off her legs. It

seemed so nice to be free of garter belts and panties - she wanted all

her clothing off, to enjoy these wonderful feelings and colors in a

state of natural nudity. If this was the way LSD made you feel, then she

was all for it!

She was getting her wish for nakedness as George unbuttoned her blouse,

and as she shrugged it off, he unclasped her bra.

"Whee, that feels good!" Charisse exclaimed as he removed her bra, flung

it aside and greedily fondled her naked, jiggling tits. He rolled her

nipples against his palms, making them more stiffly erect and sensitive

than ever.

Now Jerry began kissing her wetly between her thighs and she began to

shudder with ecstasy at the thrilling feel of his tongue as it licked

and thrust into her soft skin. Unconsciously, she spread her legs for

him as he was kissing her inner thighs, getting closer and closer to her

hot, wet pussy.

She felt George's hands leave her tits, and she smiled as she saw him

step out of his trousers and shorts . . . then her attention was brought

back sharply to Jerry's hot mouth on her thighs. His curling lips and

licking tongue were making her cunt- juices flow and he wasn't even near

her pussy with his mouth yet. She wriggled her asscheeks as a fiery

yearning permeated her cunt and belly - she recognized it for what it

was - she wanted cock - plenty of cock!

"Give it to me! Give it to me!" she pleaded pantingly as he still kept

away from her cunt, kissing her inner thighs further up. She felt she

would scream with frustration if somebody's cock didn't start putting

out the fire in her belly.

Jerry suddenly took his head from her thigh and she felt him slowly

insert two fingers between her oozing, hot cuntlips. He massaged her

clitoris for a moment, then finding her cunt-hole, he shoved them in up

to his knuckles. He kept pushing his fingers in and out of her vagina as

he leaned over and now took her nipples and tits in his hot mouth. He

sucked on her nipples until they seemed to be pinkly glowing with a fire

all their own.

"Don't hog everything buddy boy," the now naked George growled at

Jerry's ears as he busily sucked her tits.

Then George took his big stiff cock and started forcing its huge

throbbing head between her lips. Instead of being repelled as she

ordinarily would have been, the drug made the boy's big dong seem like a

lovely, generous gift and she gratefully opened her mouth, enveloping

his dick-head completely. George was a big boy and his cock was really

enormous. She almost gagged as he kept shoving it deeper down her throat

as if there were no end to the thick shaft. Finally she felt his balls

gently slapping against her chin and knew he was all the way in. She

kept her lips tightly on the shaft of his cock as he began to thrust it

in and out with a slow, steady rhythm. "Mmmmm," she crooned. She liked

the way it tasted . . .

Jerry was still thrusting his fingers up her cunt, while she was just

aching for him to shove his cock in there. She reached down and managed

to close her fingers over the shaft of his cock. Slowly she guided the

head towards her cuntlips and Jerry got the idea. He took his fingers

out of her cunt and let the head of his dick part her pink, wet

cuntlips. Then as Charisse eagerly sucked George's cock, he found her

cunt-hole and began thrusting his dick up her vagina.

She had waited so long for his cock that her cunt actually closed over

it hungrily, making a sloppy sucking sound with every movement of his

dick as it thrust in and out. Jerry was a big teaser and now that he

knew she was going wild with hump-desire, he purposely stopped frigging

into her cunt. He just let his cock rest in her twat as she wriggled her

ass and bucked her hips in an effort to start him on a solid

fuck-rhythm. But no matter how hard she tried, even "milking" the head

of his cock with her vaginal muscles, he just kept it rammed in without

moving, just to tease her in his sadistic way. And to make matters

worse, she couldn't say a word because George's big dong was thrusting

right down her throat.

George's cock was really beginning to twitch in her mouth. The sight of

Jerry's cock in her cunt as her mouth was giving his cock a superb blow

job was too stimulating. It was the horniest thing he had ever seen.

Charisse felt the shaft of his cock beginning to twitch even more and

his dong began to jerk erratically in her mouth.

"I'm going to shoot my load, baby," he groaned, "I'm going to shoot . .

. "

As he spoke she felt a hot drop of liquid on her tongue, followed by a

tremendous gushing spurt of his thick creamy sperm right down her

throat.

Three times it spurted as he rammed his dick-head all the way down her

throat, gagging her with his hot come.

"Swallow it baby, swallow it, suck out the last drop!" he groaned.

She swallowed as he said and even put the tip of her tongue in his

pee-hole to dislodge that last drop of sperm and then she felt his cock,

his come over, become soft and shrinking in her mouth. She let it slip

from her lips, and panted encouragement to Jerry, whose cock was still

up her cunt.

"Fuck me, you sadistic bastard, move that cock, you louse!" she

practically screamed at Jerry.

In her desperation to get his cock frigging her, she took her forefinger

and thrust it into his rectum and kept it there.

"I'm not taking my finger out until you start fucking like a man,

Jerry!" she exclaimed.

With a sudden withdrawal of his dick almost completely out of her cunt

and then with a tremendous lunge back in, Jerry began fucking her with

real rhythm. She grunted every time he rammed in, right up to the point

where his balls slapped against her cunt. He cupped her asscheeks and

thrust so deeply into her that the head of his cock seemed to penetrate

into her womb.

"Fuck me harder! Shove it all the way in!" Charisse goaded him. She

could feel her vaginal walls beginning to convulse and an enormous

sensation building up in her cunt. It overwhelmed her.

"Momma, momma, I'm coming! Momma, he made me come! I'm coming, momma!"

Charisse began to wail ecstatically. Her whole torso jerked as if she

were in the throes of a convulsion. Jerry's dong was bathed in her hot

cunt-juices as they oozed and dribbled from her twat.

"Go on, ride that pussy cowboy!" George was encouraging Jerry. "Fuck her

so that she knows she's really been fucked by a man!"

Jerry's cock needed no urging now because he was close to his orgasm

too. She suddenly felt his buttocks shudder convulsively and then he

groaned, "I'm coming - I'm popping off right in your cunt, baby!"

She felt the spurts of his hot sperm cascade against her vaginal walls

as his cock shot the whole load of his balls into her hungry cunt. His

cock was going limp and yet she felt strangely frustrated. She wanted

more, perhaps due to the LSD. She needed more stiff cock.

"Fuck me more," she panted even as his cock slipped out of her cunt,

"fuck me more."

She was moaning - "I want cock," her legs spread and flailed, her

sperm-filled cunt still yearning for stiff dick.

Suddenly one of the boys in the room she didn't know was between her

legs, a big hard-on in his hand. He wet the head of his dick by sliding

up and down her drooling slit, but didn't shove it up her vagina yet.

"Really ram it up her this time, Howie," one of the boys shouted. "This

babe really rides cock in high style!"

Her cunt was aflame with eagerness for this boy Howie's cock. But, the

sensation that she was being watched, that her yearnings were being

turned into a circus made her feel ashamed. Why were they all

surrounding her and picking on her? Then she remembered that there was

only one other girl there: Debbie - you really couldn't count Sally

because this was her business.

"Hey, I got a great idea," one of the onlooking boys shouted, "just turn

her on her side and let's show her how we make a country-boy sandwich!"

Apparently the boy who was about to put his cock in liked the idea and

before she knew it, she was lying on her side. Hands were prying her

legs apart and she could feel the stiff prick of Howie glide its head

between her cuntlips.

Behind her, she felt a pair of hands kneading her asscheeks, pulling

them apart until her rectum was exposed.

"That's a real cute asshole," the boy's voice intoned humorously. "I

really wonder whether this chick has had it up the old dirt road!"

For the first time that evening, Charisse was appalled at the thought of

what they were going to do to her. Not only was the whole thing low-down

and dirty, but all these boys seemed to have gigantic cocks. She might

be ripped or torn by their reckless thrusts wherever they found a hole.

She cringed as she felt something touching her anus, but it was only the

boy's finger. It felt all around her rectum, and then shoved inwards

suddenly. It seemed unable to penetrate and she heard the boy say "Get

me some cold cream, her hole needs a little smoothing out and a good

grease job!"

His fingers began spreading gobs of cold cream on her asshole and each

time he thrust it in a little deeper. Then with a vigorous movement, he

shoved it up her anus as far as it could go. She trembled at the strange

sensation in her rectum, but because of the cold cream it really didn't

hurt. He rammed his finger in and out several times, thrusting gob after

gob of cold cream up her anus.

"That asshole ought to be smooth as silk right now!" the boy joked. "If

it ain't I'm going to change my brand of cold-cream!"

The first youth's cock was still between her slightly parted cuntlips

and he was beginning to feel impatient.

"Are you going to ream this broad's asshole, or do I turn her on her

back and to hell with your country-boy sandwich?" he growled.

For an answer, the boy behind her grabbed her around the belly and she

could feel an enormous head parting her asscheeks. The cock slid easily

between her asscheeks because of the cold cream, but as the head forced

its way into her rectum, stretching it mercilessly, she wailed at the

sudden, intense pain.

"Migod, stop!" she pleaded, as the huge dong forced itself into her

anus.

"You'll kill me!" she practically shrieked as she felt the other boy's

cock thrust up into her cunt at the same time!

It seemed as if two hot branding irons were thrusting into her cunt and

her asshole at the same time and meeting in her belly. Sparks of pain

showered through her body, as the thick cocks of Howie and friend

frigged her cunt and reamed her asshole at the same time. Her anus was

especially stretched, as the boy's cock was thicker than any dick she

had ever seen so far.

Her two fuckers were beginning to become very excited and the tempo of

their frigging speeded up. They rammed into her without letup, panting

heavily and groaning. But perhaps the LSD was beginning to take the edge

of some of the pain of the two thrusting cocks. The frigging was even

becoming tolerable.

"Migod," exclaimed the one who was screwing her rectum, "look at this, I

might get a shit-clap!" Apparently the pumping action of his cock had

smeared it with some of her brown fecal matter and was creaming over

onto her asscheeks and his cock as well.

"Serves the horny little bastard right!"' she gloated, "now he'll think

twice about shoving it into assholes!"

But he still continued to fuck her rectum until she began to feel an

extra twitching in his shaft, an indication that he would soon come.

"C'mon, shoot your loads, boys! Let it rip", she encouraged them. The

sooner they would come, the sooner they would pull their dicks out of

her aching cunt and asshole.

She was right about her anus-fucker. His cock began to twitch and jerk

in her asshole, and she wriggled to make him come faster. He shot his

load high into her rectum, moaning, "This is the best asshole hump I've

had in a long time! Wriggle it, babe, I'm shooting my wad!"

She felt the hot sperm in her anus and was glad as his cock became limp

and slid out of her crack. She imagined how her asscheeks must look,

especially after what he had said about a "shit-clap." She was ashamed

and embarrassed before the people she knew were watching.

But as much as her asshole hurt her, Howie's cock, still screwing her

cunt vigorously was giving her hot pussy-pleasure now. She could feel

twitching high up in her vagina which meant she was about to come.

"Howie, make me come, I've just got to come! Fuck me, fuck me with your

big cock!" she wailed.

Her ass was wriggling and her cuntlips literally curling around his cock

as he kept ramming it brutally into her cunt. His balls were slapping

wetly at her cuntlips at the peak of every one of his thrusts.

"This dame looks like a real hot fucker!" she heard one of the boys

exclaim. "Wonder if she's a nympho and needs all that cock, or if it's

just the LSD?"

She no longer cared what anyone said about her, all that mattered was

Howie's cock, shoving up into her cunt with steam- roller force.

She felt his cock twitch, jerk and then he gave a mighty thrust and her

whole vagina felt the spurting gush of his hot come.

"I'm coming," she wailed, "your come is making me come! Migod, I'm

coming . . . it's like I never came before!"

She rested on her back as she felt his cock slip limply from her

sperm-flooded cunt.

As if in a dream, she heard Ralph's voice saying, "This broad really

likes cock so much, it's a shame to keep it from her. Excuse me while I

tear off a piece. As some of you guys have found out already, 'that's

eatin' stuff'!"

She lay back on the cushions in a daze, felt her legs being parted and

Ralph's cock was thrusting into her sperm-drenched twat. She responded,

with her cunt riding his stiff dick as if he were the first man in her

twat that evening. Apparently the LSD had affected her in a peculiar

way, because she came ecstatically and convulsively with Ralph too.

After Ralph, it didn't seem to make any difference. She loved everyone,

people were wonderful. She'd show them she was a good sport!

"I love everybody here!" she announced to the party in general. "I want

to fuck everybody here! Come an' get it, boys!"

Charisse, after all, was quite an attractive girl and she didn't have to

ask twice. There wasn't a boy at Sally's place to whom she didn't freely

give her cunt that memorable night.

In the morning, she awoke feeling very tired and sore between the legs.

"Hello there, sex-champ of Greystoke!" Debbie greeted her, "I thought

you'd never stop frigging. Do you remember asking Sally if she had a

dildo? I think you wanted to take her on too!"

"Let's get back to Greystoke before Miss Pringle misses us," Charisse

said in a low voice.

"Don't look so sad, Charisse, honey. I think you're going to be the most

sought after and popular girl in town when tonight's party gets breezed

about!" Debby said.

"I'd just as soon nobody said anything about what happened tonight!"

Charisse answered. "I really think that will be best for all concerned!"

"Sure, sure," Debbie agreed . . . "I won't say a word - but you know

what boys are like . . . "

Charisse knew too well what boys were like. Tonight's events at the

party were going to make her fair game for every hard up prick around

town, and there wouldn't be too much she could do about it!