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disturbedbydesign · 3 years ago

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The Widow and the Wolf - Chapter 3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x dark!exWidow!reader

Summary: After Natasha Romanoff took down the Red Room, the former Widows scattered to the wind. Raised to be a killing machine and released into the world with nothing and no one, you decided to use your newfound autonomy to take down the bad guys of your choosing. But now Natasha is riddled with guilt for leaving you on your own. She wants to recruit you, rehabilitate you, make you part of a team again. But the rest of the squad has reservations, and no one is more against you than Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: Graphic violence; Mentions of domestic violence, rape, pedophilia, human trafficking, child sex trafficking; eventual Dubcon (not Bucky); eventual smut; slow(ish) burn enemies-to-lovers. [More warnings will be added as necessary but these are the Big Bads.] 18+ only, no minors.

If you prefer to read on AO3, you can do so here.

Chapter Three

If you had a home, it would be Bucharest, even though you despise the place. It was the first place you went when you got free, because you know he’s here somewhere, conducting his evil machinations from the shadows, shielded by layer after layer of vile men across the globe doing his dirty work. There are plenty of men out there deserving of your particular brand of justice, but no one more so than the Viper. Sometimes you think that, if you can just find him and take him out, you might be able to move on—try to make a normal life for yourself, whatever that looks like. You don’t allow yourself to think about what will happen if you finally achieve your life’s goal and it’s still not enough for you.

You remember everything about the day you learned of the Viper’s existence. You were just 7 years old, one of many little girls packed into a shipping container. You had no idea how long you’d been in there or how long you would be in there. It smelled rancid, and there was never a moment of quiet. Most of the girls were screaming or crying, but a few (like you) were silent, just observing. You don’t know who sold you from your orphanage and shipped you off to Dreykov and you never will. What you do know is that you had no family to miss and no one to miss you, so you didn’t understand what the others were so upset about. From the very beginning, you adjusted to life as a Widow almost effortlessly, which is its own form of tragedy.

Others, though, they were stolen away from people who loved them. This seemed a foreign concept to you when you heard about it from the tiny, sobbing girl huddled next to you in the shipping container—the girl who told you about the Viper, the girl who would become your first and only friend until Dreykov took control of all of your minds. Once you were given the serum, your memories were locked up inside your own heads—none of you could have talked about your past lives even if you’d wanted to. Your words were not your own. You didn’t know what was real and what was planted there. Sometimes you still don’t, and nothing terrifies you more than that.

You have no idea how many little girls the Viper funneled to Dreykov over the years, but it was probably a decent amount. His real bread and butter had always been sex trafficking, and he’s still doing it—on an even larger scale if your intel is correct (which, of course, it is). But he won’t be operating for much longer, not now that you’re so close you can almost taste the venom. You were barely 8 years old when you decided you would kill him, and now you have your chance. You are so close, closer than you’ve ever been, but he keeps slithering out of your grasp. And so you’re in Bucharest, again, looking for answers, again. But you have other business, too—almost as important, if not more so.

You head to the safehouse on the outskirts of the city. The building doesn’t look like much on the outside, but you’ve made sure the inside is comfortable enough for the women and children who live there. The matron greets you at the door and you hand her this month’s envelope, which contains enough cash to feed everyone for the next two months, keep the lights and the water on, and some extra to fix the plumbing issues that have been plaguing the building since you bought it.

The building can house about 40 people comfortably—it’s not nearly enough, and you’re determined to create as many safe spaces as you can, but it’ll do for now. For now, you have to select your charges according to a very strict criteria: they are all women and children (and the children of women) who have been bought and sold by the Viper. Some of them escaped on their own; some of them had assistance from you and the very few people you trust in the city. But all of them have suffered, and all of them have information that you need. Individually, it’s not much, but the more women you talk to, the more pieces of the puzzle you have to work with.

Besides for the cash drop, today you’re here to see the newest resident: Irina, a 19-year-old beauty your Bucharest contacts had managed to snatch from one of the sex clubs. Irina was delivered to the Viper at 12, and her life since then has been an endless nightmare that you can’t think about for too long without feeling physically ill. She’s sitting by the window in the living room, cupping a steaming mug of tea, when you approach her. You walk towards her slowly, and when Irina looks over at you, there is recognition in her eyes even though you’ve never met.

“You’re the Widow,” she says.

“Not anymore,” you reply. “But if that’s what you’d like to call me, go ahead. May I sit?” She gestures to the seat opposite her and you settle in for a chat. “I’d like to ask you some questions, Irina. Is that ok?”

“The others told me you’d be coming.” She speaks softly, her voice hoarse from screaming or crying or both. “I know what you’re trying to do. You’ll never catch him, you know.”

“I disagree,” you say, “but I need more information.”

“Alright,” she agrees, “if you think it will help,” and you begin the gentlest of interrogations.

Irina tells you that for the first several years after she was taken, she hadn’t heard anyone mention the Viper. She thinks that a lot of the girls probably knew about him or came directly from him, but no one would talk about it because it was too dangerous or traumatizing (or both). Things were different at her last club, though. When you ask her how many of the girls at Delirium knew about him, she tells you that several of them had passed through him somewhere along their journey. One of them—one far too young to be working there—even admitted that she’d been with him only two months earlier.

Finally, after all this time, you’ve got a clear line from point A to point B. You feel it in your bones that Delirium holds the answers, that if you can just get in and poke around a bit, you’ll be able to find him. You take Irina’s hands in yours and thank her for her help, and then you hear it: heavy footsteps coming down the hall. No woman or child in the building weighs enough to make a sound like that, and no men are allowed on the premises. You know who it is before you see him.

*****

Bucky watches you enter the building from his position on the roof across the street. His contact had told him that there were whispers of a Widow safehouse at this address, though no one would dare set foot within 10 blocks of the place to find out. Bucky doesn’t believe the rumor, though. He knows you work alone, that you pride yourself on it. He assumes this is just one of many places where your targets meet their ends, and he knows enough about Bucharest to know that there are a lot of men in this city who fit your modus operandi.

Still, something is off. It’s not an empty building. There have been women and children coming and going all morning, and nearly all the apartments seem occupied. Why would you choose to do your dirty work in a place with so much activity, with so many innocents around? That seems not only impractical but beneath even you. He’s lost in these thoughts, checking each window with his binoculars, when he settles on a beautiful young girl staring out the window, looking desperately sad. She turns to look at someone he can’t see, and then he sees you emerge from the shadows and take a seat opposite her.

There’s a softness to your face—a gentle kindness—that knocks the wind out of him. Bucky can’t take his eyes off of you, analyzing your body language and facial expressions to try to figure out what the hell is going on. This is the last thing he expected to see, and he tells himself that this woman must be hiring you for a job—except the woman is nothing but a broken child and doesn’t look like someone who would be taking out a hit on somebody (and certainly not someone who could pay for one).

It’s unnerving, watching you this way, and Bucky is no longer sure that what he’s doing is right. There’s something about your interaction with this girl that makes him feel like a voyeur, witnessing an intimate moment that he should not be seeing but that fascinates him nonetheless. Still, he’s here, you’re his mission—albeit one he took upon himself—and he needs to finish it. By this time, Natasha and Steve are almost certainly on their way, and Bucky needs to get to you before they show up. He went rogue and committed to this plan; now he just has to execute it. He’ll deal with the consequences later.

Bucky makes his way across the street and around the back, where children’s toys litter the small yard of weeds and dirt. When he gets to the back door, he notices that it isn’t the usual ancient rusted lock that one finds on the old buildings in this neighborhood; it’s brand new tech. There’s a pretty decent security camera setup around the building, too.

What the hell is this place?

Bucky has two choices: he can rip the door off the hinges, or he can scale the building and climb in the open window on the top floor. You’re going to be homicidally pissed either way, so he might as well not destroy any property—you may be a monster, but the other tenants here look like civilians, and he doesn’t want to sacrifice their security in his quest to bring you in.

Bucky makes it into the building and weaves his way through the hallways. Along the way, he runs into a few women, and each one of them freezes when they see him. They are shocked and deathly afraid—a look he knows far too well—and they scurry back to their apartments and lock the doors. With his hair cut short, baseball cap pulled down, and leather jacket and glove hiding his prosthetic, it doesn’t seem possible that all of these women would immediately recognize him as the Winter Soldier. That’s what it feels like to him, though, and it’s a gut-punch sensation he does not like at all.

When he gets to the sitting room, the girl you are with has the same look of terror, and for a moment, so do you. But you snap back to yourself quickly—having gone from soft to terrified to hostile within a span of about 15 seconds. Before he can react, you stomp towards him, grab him by the jacket, and hiss, “Not here.”

Bucky hears you speak to the girl in Romanian, “Don’t be afraid, Irina. He’s a friend,” although he knows you think him anything but.

The second you get him into the hallway, you’ve got your knife to his throat. Even with your cold blade nicking his skin, Bucky fights the impulse to disarm you. He doesn’t want to fight you. He knows that he’s intruded on something here, though he doesn’t know what, and he actually feels guilty. He could break you in half if he wanted to, but he lets you pin him to the wall—lets you feel like you’re in control.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” you growl.

“You know why I’m here,” Bucky replies, but he doesn’t know—not really, not anymore. “What is this place?”

“It’s somewhere safe,” you say, “or it was until you showed up. No boys allowed, Soldat. Time to go.”

You catch him off guard when you flip him around and throw him through the nearest door, and before he can regain his balance, you kick him straight through the window and into the yard two storeys below. The fall is nothing to Bucky, and he knows that you know that, but it certainly made a statement. He looks up at the broken window he’d just crashed through and sees you peering out with a satisfied smile on your face.

Bucky calls up to you, “I just want to talk.”

“Bullshit,” you snap.

“I mean it,” he says, and he actually does. “You can pick the place.”

He watches as you consider his offer, weighing your options—you obviously don’t trust him, but it’s clear that the sanctity of this location is important to you. Now that he’s violated it, you can’t just let him wander off. You agree to meet with him that evening—in public, at a club in Old Town.

“Come alone, Soldat,” you call down to him, “and if you tell anyone about this place, I’ll throw you out a higher window.”

Bucky tries to hide his tiny smile but he knows you see it, just like he sees the little quirk of your lip just before you disappear. He hoists himself off the ground and brushes himself off. When he turns to leave, he sees a little girl holding hands with her mother. He has no idea how long they’ve been standing there, but the girl is pointing and giggling at him.

The little girl asks, “What happened to him, mama?”

“The Widow’s bite,” she replies.

*****

“He’s not going to hurt her, Natasha,” Steve says as he prepares the Quinjet for landing.

“She might not give him a choice,” she replies, strapping herself in. “What the hell was he thinking coming here alone?”

“I don’t know,” Steve says. “There’s something about this girl that’s really gotten under his skin.”

Natasha looks at Steve, asking the question with her eyes she wouldn’t dare say aloud, and he picks up what she’s putting out.

“He’s not the Winter Soldier anymore. All of that programming… it’s gone. You know that. He’s just Bucky now.”

Natasha nods in agreement, but a part of her still has questions—not whether the deprogramming worked, she knows that it did, and she trusts Bucky with her life. No, Natasha’s concern is what is going on inside Bucky’s head. He was doing well, he was adjusting, he was finally ok, but the existence of you seems to have triggered something in him that the words never had. The words made him cold and empty and ready to comply, but you—you make him think, and Natasha knows how dangerous it can be to dwell too much on things you’ve left in the past.

When Steve and Natasha arrive at Bucky’s old apartment, it’s empty, but there are small signs of life—the indent of a head on the pillow on the floor in the corner, an apple core just starting to brown. He’s been there, and recently. Natasha and Steve don’t know who he would still have contact with in Bucharest, so they are left with nothing to go on. Bucky knows how to cover his tracks, and he left them just enough crumbs to get them to Bucharest but not enough that they could find him when they got there.

“He wants us to trust him,” Steve says, “to wait for him to bring her back here.”

“I can’t just sit around waiting for something to happen, Steve. I have a really bad feeling about this.”

“So what do you suggest we do?” Steve asks.

Natasha sighs and looks out the window. “I have no idea,” she replies, and that’s when she sees it: a piece of graffiti spraypainted on the wall of a building down the street—a coiled snake ready to strike.

The memory hits Natasha like a freight train. She knows that symbol. She knows what it means. She knows exactly who you’re looking for and it seems absurd to her now that she hadn’t thought of it before.

“Let me make a call,” she says. “I think I know why she’s here.”

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #sebastian stan #dark!reader #dark!fic #the widow and the wolf

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peter-parcoeur · 4 years ago

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Good girl gone bad | (frat!tom)

request: How about frat cocky Tom at a Christmas party, wearing something that shows off his muscles, and he keeps flirting with y/n, who hates him. Throughout the night, he slowly wins her over, and once he has her in the palm of his hand, he makes her compliment him and then worship his muscles and then get on her knees and suck on him through his boxer briefs and then finally he f*cks her face and he's dirty talking and boasting all the way through :)

disclaimer: Hiii, so this was a request (sadly anonymous but if you’re out there reading this, I hope you enjoy and this lives up to your expectations...) this is my first attempt at fratboy!tom so I apologize in advance if that’s not exactly what you expected from it or whatever. Also I’m french so, some unfortunate spelling mistakes may occur and for this I apologize too! (damn I do really know how to sell myself, don’t I?) Anyway, enjoy your reading and please give it a ♥ if you liked it and a comment if you either really liked or hated it. Annnnd I’m talking too much.

warnings: smut smut smutty smut is to be expected, obviously. includes: brat!tom, braggy!tom, boasting!tom and some serious potty mouth / enemies to lovers (well, more like enemies to fuckbuddies idk) / oral-sex / face-fuck / dirtyDIRTY talk/ fingering / brief mentions of self luuuuvin (that’s masturbation, for you) / dom!tom + sub!reader / I guess a little bit of humiliation and praise kink idk if that’s triggering so just in case... / roughness... I guess that’s it? probably enough already.

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« Come on, it’ll be fun! God knows you could really use some fun… » your friend’s voice almost begged over the phone as you safely locked it between your cheek and your shoulder to open the door to your dorm room, your keyrings grazing the piece of metal surrounding the lock with a soft, clicking noise.

“Yeah cause hanging out with complete morons as they get shit-faced on cheap vodka is totally my idea of a good night...”

“ Urghhhh, Y/N please, are you really gonna be a Grinch about it?”

“ Well, it’s a Christmas party so I guess that’s convenient?”

You could tell your friend was getting frustrated by now, the slight change of tone in her voice making her sound desperate. Kicking off your shoes and dropping your books above the mess on your desk, you immediately crashed onto your bed with a loud, exhausted groan as this never-ending day had managed to push every single one of your buttons. You felt completely drained and yet, your best-friend wanted you to join her to some frat-house where, apparently, the “most incredible” Christmas party was about to be held? Uh-uh. No way. Your actual plan for a Friday night (= eating take-out food in front of some true crime documentary on Netflix) seemed much more appealing than the effort your friend seemed to require from you.

“You’re really gonna bail on me? What if something happens to me?”

“Now this is guilt pressure and you’re so much better than this! “ You laughed, “plus… I know you wanna go just so you can make out with Harrison… You really don’t need me for this and truth be told, I really don’t need to see that guy shove his tongue down your throat!”

“Maybe YOU need someone to shove his tongue down your throat “

“I’ll pass, thanks “

“Come on, how long has it been since you’ve got laid? “

“That’s… way beside the point?””

Still, you thought about it.

How long has it been, really?

Well. As far as you could remember, there were a couple (disastrous) tinder dates at the beginning of the semester. Nothing major even though the sex was still okay. Then you had decided to delete the app so you could focus on your studies, thinking that, eventually, life would grant you with an actual IRL, cute boy who could actually work a little harder to get into your pants whereas it had taken a single swipe on a screen for the previous contestants.

But for now, as the semester had come to an end and Christmas break was around the corner, it only occurred to you just how busy you had been, studying all night long and running on fumes and gallons of coffee. Maybe your friend was right. Maybe you truly needed to blow off some steam. Sometimes you wished you were more like her, carefree and less picky when it came to boys and random flings. Like her current crush, Harrison.

Harrison was a typical heartthrob with the face of a Greek God, so it was only natural for him to act like a brat and play with girls as he wished. With his piercing blue eyes and dreamy smile, girls could only wish he would look at them twice. But still, he wasn’t the worst part of Team Jackass, as you liked to call them. Their captain was actually Tom Holland. Football Quarterback, Tom collected girls’ hearts like trophies and held his pride within his questionable reputation. Party animal, heavy drinker and confirmed exhibitionist since he’d been caught fucking a cheerleader in the middle of the football field right after a game, his name was on everyone’s lips, whether they whispered gossips down the faculty’s corridor or muffled into a pillow as he dived into another naïve, besotted girl with the promise of an encore. To this day, all of the girls he had laid his eyes on were still waiting for a call-back.

You pulled a disgusted face at the thought of witnessing his little hunting game one more time. Tom was actually one of the main reasons why you usually skipped any frat party now. There were just so much time you could waste, sipping on some funky tasting “home-made” punch as “Football superstar” Tom Holland bragged about his athletic skills or how many girls he had fucked over the last couple days. Sometimes, it felt like a competition between him and his brain-dead friends. Somehow, you just knew he kept score of his one-night stands. Maybe he’d give you five stars for trying anal, a deep throat would give you another six and god forbid if you flattered his enormous, gigantic cock, well then, by all means, the throne would be yours. There was just something about him that screamed and irradiated praise kink.

“Y/N? Have I lost you?”

Your friend’s voice brought you back to reality as you seemed to have blacked out for a while.

Then, out of nowhere and unexpectedly, the words came out of your mouth.

“What time is the party then?”

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For every party, there’s a dress code.

Surely, a “Christmas” party just couldn’t be, without a fair splash of colorful jumpers or any subtle hints at Santa Clause as an excuse for a last-minute theme. Still, standing in front of what could only be Wednesday Addams’ wardrobe, you were suddenly hit by your lack of interest for any piece of clothes that wasn’t a shade between black and white. Was beige even a color anyway?

For a brief second, you considered wearing your infamous Christmas onesie, basically a fluffy one piece with a zipper, an oversized hood and covered with snowflakes and candy canes. The jokes would never end but no one could blame you for being ‘off theme’, then.

In the end, you settled for a rare “colorful” top which, luckily, happened to be whatever shade of green Christmas trees actually were. It was also skin tight and you knew for a fact it made your chest looks twice its size because of the way the velvet fabric enhanced your waistline. It was nowhere near provocative with its long sleeves and turtle-neck so you figured you could be a little bit more risky with the bottom part of your outfit, grabbing the black mini-skirt you’d bought a week before on a splurge, even though you didn’t know if you’d ever find the confidence to pull it off. It was short, there was no denying that as you turned around in the shop’s fitting room to catch a glimpse at your backside, knowing your whole ass would be exposed if you ever dared to bend down even so slightly.

Still, you felt sexy in it and as a girl who happily traded a sexy dress for yoga pants and an oversized hoodie, any piece of clothes that made you feel good about yourself was an instant buy.

Looking down at your final outfit as it laid down on your bed, a pair of nice ankle boots at the bottom of it, you patted yourself on the back for making the extra effort and walked to the bathroom for a well-deserved boiling shower. Staring at your reflection in the mirror above the sink, you sighed to yourself as the aftermath of a sleep deprived week and lack of skin care routine or basic maintenance whatsoever hit you like a truck on the highway. Your hair had been wrapped into the same messy bun for days and it would definitely take some professional skills to cover up the bags under your eyes.

Maybe this party was the wake-up call you needed, the equivalent of a Judging look from your mother every time you visited her after a while. You could almost hear her complain about how unhealthy you looked and how you should wear more “flattering” clothes. Ironically, you also knew she would never approve the skirt you intended to wear that night. You remembered just too well that frown she’d given you at your father’s 60th birthday and how you had to gulp an entire bottle of red wine to forget about the fact the woman who gave birth to you had called you a prostitute for wearing a dress above the knees. Sometimes it’d be like that. Family gathering were like a plague, somehow, you just couldn’t escape it and it would either scar you for life or make you wish you were dead.

As you entered the cubicle, the coldness of the tiles hit you, covering your skin with goosebumps and sending shivers down your spine. It took you a couple minutes to adjust as you waited for the water to turn hot enough to coat the mirror with a thick foggy layer. Only then did you relax, letting go of this week’s emotionally charged weight upon your shoulders and focusing on yourself, at last.

It was a fairly long shower as you decided to go through your entire haircare routine instead of a brief, one minute shampoo. Not to mention the fact you also had to shave entirely as it felt like it would be a good way to get rid of this nightmare of a semester, like stepping out of your old skin and into a new one. Usually, body hair was probably too far down the list of your preoccupations to even be noticed but you figured, as you felt surprisingly motivated, now was the right time to make your body smooth as a baby. You actually loved the feeling of a soft, freshly shaved skin.

As you rinsed off the soap, your hands fondling the body parts water failed to reach, your mind unexpectedly wandered through some steamy thoughts as soon as your fingertips grazed your slit, taking some shy dip between your folds. It was no surprise that a simple, barely there stroke would instantly strike your arousal, after all, it had been a while. You shamelessly admitted that your studies had taken over your life, up to the point you’d even find yourself too exhausted for some self-love. Somewhere in your chest of drawers, the small collection of adult toys you owned were probably collecting dust in the middle of your socks and panties, wondering when they’d get to take a swim and make you squirm into your sheets as you hold on to the headboard, biting your lip until it turns white so you don’t scream through climax.

What struck you the most was the fact TomfuckingHolland came to your mind the very second your middle finger met your clit, circling it softly as you felt electricity spark through your legs, making it jolt. Why the hell was his stupid smug splattered all over your unspeakable thoughts when he was, by far, the last man on Earth you’d let come close to your naked self? Let alone in a shower cubicle the size of a shoe-box where you’d have no space whatsoever to escape his heavy, muscular chest.

His body looked ridiculously built for a man with the face of a 13 year-old. Sometimes you’d catch him randomly flex throughout the day, showing off his enormous biceps to anyone willing to praise his impeccable shape. There would be no room for these guns in there, you thought as a brief image of these massive arms shielding you from both side, fists tight against the tiles, came immediately to your mind. What took you by surprise wasn’t to actually picture Tom standing in there with you, naked and definitely willing to make that room a lot steamier, but the fact you slipped a finger into your surprisingly dripping core as soon as you imagined him stepping closer so your bare, sticky chests would meet, his obvious arousal poking at your inner thigh, begging to make an entrance.

You stopped before you inevitably came, even though your body craved for that well-deserved relief. You may have been hornier than you thought, but not nearly horny enough to hand your first orgasm in months on a silver plate to a boy who probably stroked himself in front of a mirror on a daily basis. Your thighs squeezed together where your fingers had left a desperate void, rinsing your entire body with a much colder water, hoping it would bring your sanity back.

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You looked incredible.

It wasn’t just you boosting your ego through a pep talk in front of your mirror back in your dorm this time, and even if you loved to give yourself an encouraging speech, praising whatever features you thought made the cut in the top three of your best assets as you gathered the strength to go out in public in an outfit pretty far from your comfort zone, nothing could ever beat the look people gave you as you walked into the frat house looking like a three courses meal. There was just something about that short time slot where you caught a gaze and knew what that look was all about.

You knew Liza, the head student with a soft spot for athletes so obvious she probably had the entire football team’s handprints tattooed on her skin, just hated to see you get the attention she usually caught. Athletes loved nerdy, smart-ass girls like her, but to her own despair, you actually happened to be one of those, only with a shorter skirt and thicker thighs.

You knew half of Team Jackass was already staring at you, wishing they’d catch a glimpse of whatever you had to offer underneath that impeccable outfit as the soft fabric of your skirt kept rising up, every step bringing you closer to an unfortunate peek at the plain, white cotton undies you had chosen to wear that night.

But above anything, you could most definitely feel someone’s gaze upon you, burning up your skin like lasers trying to scan through your clothes. Suddenly, you felt exposed and with a simple smirk, Tom-Holland came out, strong as ever, just so he could pop out the comforting bubble you had built around you. Of course, he had chosen to wear the tightest white tee-shirt so everyone could distinctively see each of his six, rock-hard abs. Of course, his sleeves were slightly rolled up to enhance his biceps and if you weren’t familiar with his despicable behavior, seeing him flex just so he could kiss the pumped-up mount irrupting from his upper arm like a fresh batch of popcorn on a stove, you could have barfed immediately at the disgusting sight of a man with an ego the size of a fucking comet.

For now, you simply rolled your eyes all the way to the back of your head and watched as he smiled cockily, his hand reaching out for a redhead girl’s cheek even though his eyes were most definitely undressing you from afar. You could tell the girl had dressed to impress as she was tightly wrapped into the just-slutty-enough version of Santa’s outfit. Basically a velvet red dress with a fluffy white strap on top of her bustier. The way she laughed and twirled her long curly strand of hair as she gazed lovingly at Tom was enough for you to know she would soon join the never-ending list of names on his score board.

Shaking your head at how easy it seemed for him to get laid within the first hour of a party, you made your way to the kitchen where the alcohol seemed to be. As expected, most students were already sipping at some questionable cocktail right from the bowl with a straw and since you didn’t feel like going straight for the strong stuff, you settled for a beer, fiddling with the bottle cap for a solid minute before you heard a voice coming from behind your back.

“Need some hand with that, sweetheart?”

The cocky tone and thick accent immediately sent you off as a long, single shiver ran down your spine from the disgusting thoughts it brought along. It had come to the point you couldn’t even stand his stupid voice.

“I’m fine, thanks” you lied, your first still tightly gripped on your sealed beverage.

“You look like you could use some strength…”

Of course, he had to bring up his impressive, spectacular strength within seconds. Maybe he expected you to slow clap, bow down or throw confetti’s all over him for being strong enough to open a beer bottle. What on Earth would you do without his strong, manly hands?

Grinding your teeth as your tongue clicked against your palate out of pure annoyance, you gave him the most unimpressed look as he grabbed the bottle from your hand, popping out the cap hard enough to make it fly off and hit the table with a soft, metallic thump. Smirking to himself, Tom handed you the bottle back, tilting his head as he obviously expected some enthusiastic reaction.

“Do you want a medal or something?”

“A simple ‘thank you’ would be a good start? “He mocked, raising his eyebrows in a way that made your consider throwing the entire bottle at his face to wash away his stupid cockiness.

“Thanks” you simply blurted out, raising your beer slightly before walking away as you took a couple sips. It wasn’t even that cold or remotely good.

Tom watched as you walked away in silence, his eyes inevitably drawn to the way your hips and that glorious ass of yours seemed to wiggle into that daunting skirt. Grazing his thumb over his bottom lip with a smirk, the eager flame in his eyes made his will to take you to a quiet place grow bigger with each step you took.

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The music was getting considerably louder as people were now dancing all over the place, from the staircase to whatever was left of furniture after too many parties hosted in this house. The constant buzzing sound of chit-chats and laughter was slowly making your head spin as you gulped on your third (or was it the fourth?) Shot of tequila. As expected, Y/BFF/N had wasted no time as she was already clinging to Harrison’s neck, feasting on his mouth like an open buffet. His hands were on her bum, holding on to it for dear life with a strong grip. At least, she was having fun.

Out of boredom and to your own surprise, you had agreed on doing shots with a couple people you knew from class. Not technically what you’d call reliable friends but you always bumped into them at parties where you’d basically chat, and drink. From afar, you could see some people had gathered around a table where Team Jackass had started the inevitable beer pong contest. Nibbling at a piece of lime, hoping it would wash away the burning haze of the tequila, you winced at the sourness as your eyes suddenly locked with Tom’s. He was now holding his arms up on both side, raising one fist through the air as he had clearly won that first round. There was something pathetic about a man in his twenties begging for attention and acting like he was about to claim the gold medal at the Olympics when all he did was throw a feather-weighted plastic ball into a red cup.

All the alcohol in the world would never get you drunk enough to tolerate this guy.

Sometimes, you couldn’t help but think it was a shame to see him act so pitiful when he face was actually okay. Well. He was definitely cute as long as his mouth was shut and his stupid, pretentious smug out of the way. With his soft, chocolate brown eyes, his tousled eyebrows and thin pink lips, he could’ve been a guy you’d be interested in. His brown hair was somehow, always tucked into a snapback or a beanie but you had caught a glimpse of his natural curls once and though it killed you on the inside to admit it, he did look great when he didn’t try too hard to be a complete asshole.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t see him walk towards you.

“We’re doing shots now? “

“Impressive” you frowned, “did you figure it out all by yourself?” you chuckled, swallowing what’s left of lime, basically pulp, in one soft gulp.

“You like to act all smart ass around me, don’t you?”

“Correction: I am, in fact, smart… Not that it’s something you’re familiar with so, pardon me if it’s all too confusing for you… “

“Are you calling me dumb, then?” he was frowning now, his enormous self-centered head deflating under the unexpected pressure of your witty come-back.

“Did you hear the word ‘dumb’ coming out of my mouth?”

“No – but I sure know what I would like to see come in that sweet mouth of yours, darling”

The fact he had the nerves to say that kind of stuff right to your face was enough to piss you off but what caught you off guard was his hand reaching for your face as his thumb delicately grazed your bottom lip, pulling at it just enough for you to taste his fingertip.

“Surely, lime isn’t the only thing you like to suck on?” he smiled, cocky as ever as you could feel actual rage building up from your core and all the way to the back of your throat.

“I suggest you keep your hands off me” you snapped, pushing his hand off your face as he laughed to himself, the raspy sound caught in his throat making you throb against all odds.

“Or what? What you gonna do about it, uh?” he teased, confident as ever, his words coming out of his mouth halfway between a threat and a challenge. His arms were crossed against his chest now, making every inch of muscle he owned just pop out. There was nothing sweet about the way his body was built, and was he ever given the occasion, you knew he could break your spine in half with his one hand. You just wished you’d never thought about it as the filthiest images came to your mind, starting with Tom spinning you around over the sink in the bathroom and pinning you down with his palm pressed between your shoulder blades as he pounded hard and fast into you.

Maybe Tequila had gotten to your head faster than you expected.

“I know girls like you” he started, walking backwards until your back hit the wall and you were completely trapped between his arms, one of his leg parting yours so his knee would slowly graze that spot where your thighs met, claiming his access to that precious part of your body you could definitely feel getting damper against your will.

“What about it?” you asked, slightly more provocative than you had intended.

“You like to act all innocent, pretending you have higher standards…” His breath was warm, wrapped into the thickness of alcohol, curving a ball at the back of his throat so his voice would come out raspier and lower than usual, “… but secretly you just want guys like me to fuck the back of your throat until you choke”.

You felt it. Your pussy throb at the single thought of it. You didn’t want to physically react to these obscene images, words coming out of his mouth filthier than anything you’d ever heard, but still, as hard as you wanted to remain cold and unbothered, there was no denying for the dampness between your thighs. You just hoped he wouldn’t get a chance to notice it.

“You disgust me” it took you all the strength you had to spat back at him, and even then, all he did was smile then chuckle softly to himself as his hand slid up your throat, wrapping it slowly until his thumb pressed itself into the crook under your chin, nesting as it was made to be there.

“Please—are you really going to pretend you’ve never thought about my cock filling up your pretty mouth?” his fingers found your lips again, tracing it slowly as your heartbeat increased with each word, “like you’ve never thought about me when you finger yourself at night” he paused, pinching his bottom lip between his teeth as he tilted his head, his mouth coming closer to your hear with a dark whisper “I know you do, baby… I know you touch yourself thinking of me, wishing those fingers were mine, diving into your dripping cunt… Touching spots you could only wish you’d reach… how I would spread those lips open and run my tongue all over your slit….” A warm breeze brushed your neck as a cursed laugh escaped his lips, making you squirm unexpectedly, “I bet you taste so sweet, I would never get enough of that glorious pussy…”

By now, you were wrapped into the intoxicating scent of his cologne. It was strong and manly as expected, yet comforting in a way you didn’t want to think about. You didn’t want to picture yourself wearing that grey hoodie he loved to wear after a game, his perfume raining over your bare chest as you’d lazily ride him on his dorm bed after you’d get bored of whatever movie you’d settled for, pushing your panties to the side as he couldn’t be bothered taking it off completely. You didn’t want to picture him unzipping that same hoodie, palming your boob with one of his strong hands as his mouth sucked on your nipple until your soft, delicate skin turned red from all the biting marks. You didn’t want to feel yourself stretch around his rock-hard cock as he’d lift your legs up to wrap it around his neck, because he’s that kind of jerk who likes to show off even when he’s completely buried inside of you, that kind of complete asshole who loves to remind you just how deep he can go, smirking to himself as he hits your special spot over and over and over…. until you beg for him to stop. That kind of utterly disgusting dickhead who’d never stop, because he knows that, deep down, you just want him to keep going.

“Now you can tell me you’re not already wet… But we both know that’s a lie” he smiled again and as you felt his hand going down, palming you through your top and all the way down to the front of your skirt, you finally decided to come to your senses and grabbed his wrist into your tight fist, stopping him just in time before he’s reached the only approval he truly needed.

“Go to hell, Holland” you snapped, using all of your strength to push him off and walk away.

You didn’t turn back to see him chuckle at the sight of your flushed face.

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The coldness of water came as a shock as you bent over the sink in the bathroom, splashing your face until it didn’t feel like your skin was on fire. Grabbing a towel, you patted your cheeks and forehead, staring at the reflection in front of you. You definitely looked flustered, like you had just run a marathon when all you really did was to suffer through your archenemy’s evil little game.

Usually, you would have just brushed it off and that’d be it. But tonight, for some reason, you just couldn’t seem to shake him off your thoughts, his voice still echoing through your head like a curse without a cure. Outside the bathroom, you could hear the muffled sound of music and screams coming from the living room as beer-pong had turned into strip-pong with everyone removing a piece of clothes every time the ball missed the cup. Typical, drunken behavior. Soon enough these parties would turn into a massive orgy and it wouldn’t even come out as a big surprise.

Freshen up a little had helped you settle your thoughts back into place but still, your body didn’t seem to catch a break as the build-up tension and frustration Tom had caused within your core was yet to be released. There was no denying that your toys would have come handy if you were back to your dorm room as it felt like your pussy kept clenching for no reason, like the gaping mouth of the thirstiest man in the middle of a drought. You knew how bad you needed to put it out of its misery but if you thought undressing for a ping pong game was bad, what would happen if anyone walked on you literally fingering yourself in the bathroom of a frat-house? No one would shut up about it.

Tom would certainly not. Shut. Up. About. It. Ever.

You pressed your thighs together, hoping for some sort of relief as his words came back haunting you, thinking about how your hand had found its way between your legs earlier in the shower, the very second you had thought about his body pushing you up against the tiles. Is that what he was to you, now? A fantasy? Would you become another disgusting cliché of a girl begging for the typical frat boy to fuck her at a party because she couldn’t handle his dirty mouth?

Then you thought about your best-friend and how the last time you’d seen her, she was heading upstairs with Harrison, giggling, her lipstick smudged all over her chin after making out heavily on the couch up to the point everyone was starting to wonder whether they should be charged for that kind of peep-show or just roll with it. How she was probably getting fucked in his bedroom while you were standing alone in a bathroom, dripping wet for a man you hated down to the very bottom of your guts.

The door swung open abruptly, making you jump.

“So that’s where you’ve been hiding!” Tom smiled, walking in.

“Can’t a girl have some privacy?”

“I need to take a piss, you’re the one standing out there doing nothing” he joked, walking to the toilets with his hands already fiddling with the zipper of his pants.

“Hum, excuse me?” you spat, widening your eyes as you realized he was genuinely about to use the toilets with you still standing a few meters away.

“I said I needed to take a piss… So either you just stand there watching, which I don’t mind really… or you can get out?” he pointed his chin towards the door, unbothered as he casually pulled his dick out of his boxers.

Both infuriated and shocked, you turned around as there was no point leaving the room now that his whole junk was out and already halfway through it.

“Do you have to be that disgusting? Really you’re such a pig!” you complained as you heard him sigh with relief before the toilet flush broke the most awkward silence of your entire existence.

“Don’t worry darling, I’ll clean it up real nice just for you…” he smiled even though you still had your back turned to him. You heard him use the tap, washing his hands for a considerably long amount of time. At least he wasn’t one of those filthy rats who thought basic hygiene was optional.

“What were you doing by the way?” he finally asked, grabbing the towel to your left, “touching yourself thinking about me?”

You turned around to face his cocky face once more, this time with a furious need to slap it. Hard.

“You know I’ve seen you walking around campus a couple times, Y/N… Those big jumpers and yoga pants you like to wear don’t do that body any justice, but this?” he circled his finger in the air, pointing out her entire outfit “this, I like to see… and if you weren’t being a little brat I would gladly pull up that skirt up to your waist and have you there, above the sink…”

“I’m being a brat?” you scoffed. That was rich, coming from the ultimate king of bratty assholes.

“Well you call it whatever you like but denying yourself something you truly need just to prove a point seems a little childish…” he shrugged, shoving his hands into this jeans pocket and giving you a perfect glimpse at the veins running up his arms and disappearing underneath his rolled up sleeves.

“You think all girls are begging for you to fuck them? Really?”

“Probably, yeah, and who could blame them really? I have a great cock and I’ve never had a single bad review about the way I use it…” he smiled, with the arrogance of a king sitting on a throne of indecency.

“You’re so full of yourself… it’s insane” you shook your head with pure disgust.

“Then go ahead and prove it”

“Prove what, exactly?”

“That you’re not dripping wet as we speak…”

Point taken.

You were, indeed, dripping wet and soon enough, you’d have some serious explaining to do as the thin cotton fabric of your underwear was now soaked with your unsolicited arousal. Even though your head was filled with hateful thoughts and resentment for Tom, it felt like your body would not stop begging for his touch, dragging him closer like two pieces of magnets on a fridge. Unconsciously, you were now standing a couple inch away from his face, so close you could actually smell the soft mixt of menthol and alcohol from his breath. There was no point denying the obvious tension between you two as you looked like you were about to break into a passionate kiss but now it was just a fight between your will for self-preservation and your body, aching to be touched.

And so you heard yourself say these words you never thought you’d say, like you were standing in the audience as your other self was performing on stage, making some questionable decisions you weren’t 100% okay with.

“Which one’s your bedroom?”

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You could have fought longer, for the sake of your personal values, but as your feet were swiped off the ground, your back hitting the door as it closed behind you with a loud slam, all of your good sense and respectable choices just vanished as much filthier thoughts buried them for good.

Your legs were wrapped around his waist as his hands had wasted no time and found their way under your top, fondling your breast with the hunger of a wolf. Your lips attached to his, you moaned louder than expected as he pushed himself a little harder against you, the obvious stiffness of his crotch pressing against your aching core. Your skirt had risen up to your waist from spreading your legs a little too wide, flashing your white panties as it was now so soaked you could definitely see the outline of your lips, the thin fabric sticking to your slit. Catching your breath, heavy pants breaking your kiss, you looked into Tom’s eyes only to see nothing but pure, absolute lust in them. As you tugged at his brown locks, a couple strand curling slightly at the back of his neck, you watched as his snapback fell to the floor with a thump, unleashing his brown untamed mane.

Suddenly, he didn’t seem so bad, groaning slightly as your fingers scrapped the back of his neck, your lips sucking on his throat for good measures. With his head tilted back slightly, it felt like Tom was getting soft for a while, caving in so you could take control over him. Unfortunately, that didn’t last long as he suddenly traced a hand all the way down to your inner thigh, immediately pushing your panties to the side with his middle finger.

“I knew it…” he smiled, sliding his finger along your slit as you wrapped it up with a glistening coat of arousal. You knew he had won the minute he felt just how wet you were for him, but when it should have been upsetting, you just didn’t care. All you needed now was to feel his cock filling you up in any way he wanted, “who made you this wet, darling?” he smiled, pulling at your bottom lip with his teeth.

“Don’t be a brat…” you complained as you could see some mischief in the way he looked at you.

“Just say it” he insisted “I want to hear you say out loud just how wet I make you” this wasn’t a request, but an order. And for some obscure reason you didn’t want to figure out, it somehow turned you on even more.

“You…” you started, biting your lip out of nerves, or out of excitement, you weren’t sure quite yet. “You make me so wet, Tom” you almost moaned, pushing yourself a little harder against his hand when he failed to give you exactly what you needed. His fingers. Buried deep inside of you.

“Hmm” Tom groaned, two of his digits spreading your lips apart at a torturing slow pace, “I like the sound of that…” his knuckles were barely halfway when you buckled your hips off the door, begging for more, “what’s that darling? Tell me what you want…” he was whispering by now, slowly pushing his fingers into your desperate slit, “I want to hear you beg for it…”

You felt him push deeper, curving his fingers into a hook every time he reached your g-spot. By now you were so aroused you just knew it would take you more than a couple stroke to cum heavily into his awaiting palm. You could hear the sloppy sound of your own wetness every time he slammed his slick, extremely skilled digits back into your throbbing pussy. His lips curved into a hasty smile as he could feel you literally drip all over his palm and wrist.

“I want you… I want you so much” you barely managed to whimper as he increased the pace, his wrist working its magic between your thighs.

“Hmm hmm? I’m gonna need you to be more specific baby… what exactly do you want?” his thumb grazed your clit for a brief second and that was enough for you to squeal under his touch, making you clench suddenly around his fingers, “say you want my cock” he almost growled as you felt his hard-on twitch against your thigh, begging to be freed.

“I want your cock” you immediately wimped, your own words sending shivers down your spine as you twitched with anticipation, “I want it so, so bad…”

“Good girl…” he hummed, slowing down the pace so he could add a third finger, stretching you out slightly this time, “d’you think you can take it though? It’s pretty big…” he smiled, twisting his hand just enough so he could dig himself a path.

You simply nodded, unable to speak anymore, but as you were about to beg for more, Tom removed his hand, leaving you frustrated and hornier than ever. His face changed suddenly as he watched you pout, his hand reaching up for your lips.

“What about that pretty mouth, then? You think it may fit?” he smiled, spreading your lips apart so you could taste yourself on his soaked fingers. You immediately obliged, sucking at it, one by one, never keeping your eyes off him. When he shoved three of his digits, watching as your tongue twirled around it, cleaning it off completely, you could definitely tell his eyes had gotten darker, filled with unspeakable thoughts you would be begging to hear soon.

“You’re gonna let me fuck that pretty face?” he added, removing his fingers from your mouth so he could give you a soft, cheeky slap on the cheek. You nodded, obedient as ever. “Say it” he commanded, louder this time, “say you want my cock inside your mouth”.

“I want it… I want your cock inside my mouth” you pouted, only because you knew he loved to see you beg like a spoiled little princess. You’d seen it in his eyes, the way he looked at you every time you tilted your head to fake an innocence that was long gone.

Tom stepped back, walking away slowly as he watched you standing there, flustered, your hair all over the place, panting out of lust and frustration. Pulling his shirt off, you watched as his impressive chest unveiled in front of you. Abs like rocks, a thin strand of hair tracing a path from his navel to his crotch, disappearing under his jeans, his impeccable V-line bringing images you never thought you had within yourself. As he pushed his hair back, daunting you with his a look half way between arrogance and disdain, it felt like all signs of dignity had left your brain as all you could think about was to crawl to the floor and beg for his cock.

“What you’re waiting for then, Darling?” he smiled, unzipping his flies as he watched you walk towards him and get on your knees within seconds.

Your hands pulled at his jeans until it finally pooled around his ankles. Looking up to stare into his eyes, you felt both small and powerful, submissive but in control as you were now responsible for this man pleasure. It was up to you whether he’ll get to cum or not. But as you considered edging him as an option, Tom wasted no time in remembering you who was actually in charge.

“Are you gonna be a good girl for me?” he sighed, grabbing your hair into a fist as his other hand stroked his cock through the cotton fabric of his boxers. You could tell he was just horny as you were as a couple pre-cum had already stained his briefs, turning it into a darker shade of grey.

Again, you nodded, removing his hand so you could replace it with yours, palming him through his briefs as he growled against your touch. He was big. Actually much bigger than you expected but somehow, you were up for a challenge. Tracing the outline of his cock with your fingers tips, you felt him push his hands on the back of your head, forcing you to come closer to his crotch.

“I want to fuck your pretty little mouth so, so bad” he groaned as you unexpectedly ran your tongue all over his stiff through the fabric, feeling it twitch as you palmed his balls. By now he was so hard you could feel the veins tracing a dirty road up to his leaking head as Tom started grinding slowly against your mouth, messing up your hair with his desperate fists.

When you pulled down his boxers, you took a couple seconds to stare at his glorious manhood, hard and pressed against his abdomen where it curved slightly, your mouth watering with a thirst you could have never pictured, especially when standing in Tom Holland’s bedroom. And yet, you couldn’t wait to have this magnificent piece of flesh filling up your mouth.

“Like what you see?” Tom smirked, boasting as ever but immediately squinting his eyes with a deep growl the minute he felt your tongue licking at the base, slowly going up until you finally bobbed on his creaming head.

You had always been good at this, giving head. Not that all of your partners would give you a proper review in the morning, pointing out your highs and lows, but there were just things men couldn’t do, like hiding the fact they were just having the time of their lives. And right now, Tom actually looked like there was nowhere else in the world he would rather be than standing here, with his cock in your mouth.

Twirling your hand at the base where you mouth couldn’t go just yet, you started bobbing up and down his shaft, sucking your cheeks in so your mouth would pop every time his dick came out. You had quickly figured out a couple things about Tom, including the fact he just seemed to love it dirty and noisy. You could actually hear him growl louder, his fist tightening its grip into your hair every time he slipped off your lips, only for him to shove it back a little harder and definitely deeper with each thrust.

“That’s it baby… Just like that… you’re such a good girl…”

You were a good girl, indeed. Always had been. Straight-A’s student from day one, the pride and joy of your parents, spending most of your week-ends doing some volunteer work whenever it was needed while being a caring, polite girl who never did anything wrong. Right choices only.

Or so you thought. Obviously, tonight would be always marked as the only questionable decision on your impeccable path to perfection. But still, as Tom grabbed your face with both hands to push himself deeper and all the way down your throat, making you gasp for air slightly, you had no regrets.

You stayed still for as long as your lungs could handle it, holding on to his firm, muscular buttocks as you swallowed him all. Looking down on you, Tom was left speechless as his cock stretched your cheeks out, his balls resting into your palm as you twitched them slowly, making it jolt with both pain and pleasure. When you felt like you were about to gag, you pushed yourself back, gasping for air as you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. Your cheeks felt numb and yet it missed the feeling of being stretched out already.

“Hmmm baby look at you…. you think you’re ready for it?”

“Yeah” was all you could blurt out. Yes to anything he wanted. You were prepared. You longed for it.

Looking around as Tom started pumping himself, getting ready for you, spitting into his palm to lube himself up so your lips wouldn’t drag along his shaft too much, you just couldn’t believe you were there, kneeling on the navy carpet of Tom Holland’s bedroom, the epitome of the ultimate frat boy. A huge flag from his favorite sports team was hanging above his bed, his never-ending hats collection sitting on wooden shelves by the wall like it was some kind of “frat boy starter pack” Art exhibition. In the corner of the room, you caught an unexpected glimpse at a guitar. It looked fairly new, but never in a million years would you have pictured Tom playing guitar. On his desk, his laptop was still open on a Spotify tab where you’d probably find a playlist based on some typical white boy rap music but against all odds, the room looked neat compared to what you had in mind.

“You look so beautiful” he sighed, out of nowhere, and to be completely honest, had your mouth not been filled with his dick, you would have probably picked up your jaw from the floor. Taking him all in once more, you just pretended you couldn’t hear, sparing you some awkward misunderstanding. Maybe those words were actually directed to his dick. After all, the boy loved himself just that much.

His hands were all over your face, wiping tears from your eyes every time he hit the back of your throat a little too hard, stroking your cheeks, massaging the back of your neck, roaming through your tangled hair as your kept up with his reckless pace, his hips swinging back and forth while you remained completely still so you could take him like a champ.

“God, I love to see you choke on my cock….” He gritted through his teeth “so…so hot…” you could tell he was getting sloppier now, pumping in and out of your mouth abruptly then a lot more slower as a couple twitch from his cock gave you a hint of his upcoming grand finale.

By now, you were a slippery mess, the taste of pre-cum hitting your throat as you dribbled all over his shaft, obscene sounds of suction coming out of your mouth every time he pushed himself out and back in all over again.

“F----uuuuck….fuck baby I’m gonna come!” he grunted, the sudden high-pitch of his broken voice driving you insane as you pushed yourself up a little so you could open your mouth wider, expecting him to fill it up soon enough. “D’you want me to cum in your mouth? Uh?” again, he gave you a little slap on the cheek, not quite hard enough for you to feel any pain. You nodded, moaning whatever came close to a “yes” as every single inch of your mouth was filled with Tom.

You heard him whimper, twitching a couple times, harder with his thrust as his hand fisted into your hair abruptly throughout his climax. Looking up to see his face, your eyes locked with his as he came all over your tongue, raining down your throat with a couple last, sloppy thrusts.

“Oh fuck! Fuck fuck fuck fuuu------“

Your eyes immediately teared up as you tried your best to swallow every drop of cum he had to give, the corner of your lips dripping like an overflowing sink.

Then there was a complete silence.

As you wiped your mouth off the thick, warmness of his cum, you felt him kneel to your side, then sit. Both of you looked completely exhausted, drained from every ounce of energy you had left.

“Well, that wasn’t half bad… for a little brat” he spoke again, and you just couldn’t believe he had gathered the energy to say this when he could have chosen silence.

Laughing quietly to yourself so you wouldn’t slap him across the face, you decided not to fuel him up and remained quiet instead. His hair had gone curlier than heaver, his glistening red face making him look like any cute boy you could easily fall for.

“I’ve got a feeling we’re gonna see a lot more of you at frat parties now?” he spoke again, and though it truly pissed you off to admit it, you just knew this wasn’t a one-time thing. For all you knew, this, was barely a prequel to a long, bumpy story of a good girl gone bad.

All because of Tom-fucking-Holland.

#tom holland #tom holland smut #frat boy tom holland #frat!tom #enemies to lover #tom holland x reader

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chilly-me-softly · 3 years ago

Note

fluff alphabet for jordan (henderson)

This is my first alphabet so hope I did it right and that you like it! x

A - APRON

Jordan wasn't the best cook in the world, he kept it simple and always made the same recipes sure that the result was more than acceptable. And you loved to see him in action, from the moment he put on his apron until he got to the cooker, his expression always focused as if he were in the middle of a surgical operation. And then his eagerness to know if it was good, the smile on his face when you complimented him, him enormously pleased with himself.

B - BALL

Of course he always has a ball between his feet, many times urging you to play with him. And you're not a professional player at his level, but you certainly manage to distract him in other ways...

C - CUDDLE

After a day of practice what better thing than holding you in his arms while you tell him what happened while he was gone or anything else that comes to mind. Your voice is better than any relaxing drink, so much so that many times he has closed his eyes without even noticing.

But it's the little circles you draw on his arm, the light kisses you leave on his chin from time to time that make his night. Because no matter how much he likes being around the boys, no one pampers him like you do.

D - DINOSAUR

The little dinosaur is supposed to be for your son, but ever since it was given to you, it keeps you company when you're alone. Or even to annoy Jordan as he often complains that you spend more time hugging that soft toy than he does.

"I swear, as soon as he's born, I'll let him have it"

"If you say so" Jordan strokes your eight month old baby bump with a smile on his face, "did you hear mommy? She'll leave you her toys" he leaves a light kiss on your belly as you gasp hitting him with the dinosaur head.

"You're really mean Jordan, go away I never want to see you again" you put on a fake pout as he looks at you softly getting up to be at your height.

"How about you keep this dinosaur, and our son gets another one? You can match"

"I don't need a stuffed animal, I'm a big girl now" but you don't believe it either, him raising an eyebrow clearly amused and you hitting him with the dinosaur again.

E - EXERCISE

Even on his days off Jordan had to work out, the home gym built for the occasion. And he loves showing off for you, when you go to sit on a bench and your gaze settles on his toned, sweaty body.

"Like what you see?" he sneers, gently passing the towel over his face and then laying it on your shoulders, you rolling your eyes faking nonchalance.

"Please my lover is in better shape"

"Oh yeah?" Jordan walks over trapping your legs against the bench and starting to lie on top of you.

"No Jordan you're sticky" you try to desist but he's already on your lips. So you draw him to you by the neck, the thin layer of clothing separating you starting to get annoying.

F - FAMILY PHOTO

Jordan literally loves family photos, a big one of you just on the fireplace. He claims that every year you have to redo it because you all change so much, especially the little ones. Plus that year there is a new member of the family so it has to be redone.

You smile, arranging the ribbon around the baby's head in your arms as a three-year-old runs past your side almost tripping.

"Careful" you sigh, "Come on come over here next to us so we can take the picture and then you can go play" you don't know how he hasn't gotten dirty in some way yet. Jordan and the light shirt obsession. It's cute but totally not appropriate for a vulcano like your kid.

Finally Jordan arrives after talking to the photographer about the shots, wrapping an arm around you briefly. He places a kiss on your temple and the forehead of the little one in your arms before stopping the baby who was about to run away again.

"Just two minutes okay?" he smiles, crouching down and resting his hands on the kid's shoulders, smoothing down his jacket and adjusting his little bow tie before guiding him back to his seat.

And at the end of the week all you have to do is choose the best photo.

G - GETAWAY

Especially in summer you used to disappear to spend some time alone away from schedules, appointments, dinners to attend, families. Nothing was better than disconnecting, just you and Jordan relaxing in a secluded place or being tourists in some unknown location. You did everything you could to keep your mind off your troubles for even a couple of nights and it was always worth it.

H - HUG

All you had to do was say that word and Jordan would drop what he was doing, his arms gently around your body. Sometimes you did it just for the sake of it, but most of the time you just felt the need to be held and he was almost always there to satisfy you.

I - ILL

Sick Jordan was absolutely something. His unkempt state, his bright eyes and his drawling smile made him so cute in your eyes even though he felt like crap.

"Stop looking at me like that" he complains as he always does trying to hide his head somewhere while you smile.

"I'm not doing anything"

"You're looking at me" his voice comes muffled from under the pillow as you try to take it off, stroking his slightly damp hair. You liked taking care of him for once, even if it meant he wasn't at his best. He always seemed so strong, always available for you and that was one of the few times you could somehow return the favour.

He got annoying but you couldn't really take it out on him, could you?!

J - JORDAN

You didn't use nicknames, his name was good like that and you didn't need to change it or not use it at all. And he loved to hear his name coming from you. With hilarity when you were having fun; with sweetness in intimate moments; and yet angry, joking, alarmed, every possible nuance brought a smile to his face.

K - KEY

You were having breakfast one morning, you were enjoying your bowl of cereal while his had become un-eatable by now as he kept throwing you glances not caring about it.

He continues to twist something between the fingers of the hand he has hidden from your view when suddenly Jordan reaches across the table, sliding something towards you. A key.

"This is the house key. I wanted to... well give it to you but don't feel pressured in any way" he doesn't know exactly what he's nervous about, many times he's left you his keys to get in or when he was out of town for emergencies. But you looking at him motionless certainly doesn't help him. Has he made a mistake?

"You're giving me the key to your house?" your gaze on that object, incredulous, not touching it as if it might shock you. "Really?" you always had his keys on loan, having your own meant he trusted you enough to let you into his space even unannounced, or that you wouldn't lose it and risk someone else finding it. It was a really great gesture.

"Yeah I mean I thought you could have your own copy, and use it even when I'm here" a huge smile breaks across your face as you stand up going to sit on Jordan's lap, him scooting his chair further back to allow you to be more comfortable.

"That's...I have no words. Just thank you"

"I like the idea of coming home to find you already comfortable"

"Oh I surely will" you chuckle as you finally take that key in your hands, snapping to your feet causing a confused expression to appear on Jordan's face as you leave for the door.

"I forgot something" you walk back inside using the key and going straight to leave a kiss on his lips as he stands up immediately wrapping his arms around your body. "Are you crazy? It's so cold out there"

"I have a key now" you state with satisfaction as you cling to him.

L - LAUGH

Definitely his trademark, you can recognise it even with your eyes closed. You couldn't be more different than that, you always trying to be as quiet as possible while he was always so loud. But you couldn't help but be mesmerised by his face when he laughed, from his squinted eyes to his head thrown back.

"If I were to lose my memory, I'm sure your laugh would make me remember you" a soft smile on your face as you looked up at him slightly from below lying on his chest as he raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about? Why would you lose your memory?"

"I said if, it's a scenario" you roll your eyes pouting, him quickly running his thumb over your lips to remove it.

"Why do you always have to be so tragic?"

"Ugh Jordan it was a compliment, it's not my fault you don't get it" and that laugh is always there to fill your heart.

M - MATCHDAY

Every home game Jordan is sure to have you at the stadium cheering for him. Over the years that has never changed, only skipping games when you weren't feeling well or when you were really pregnant and Jordan would be more concerned about you and your safety than the outcome of the game.

A little unspoken routine between you, him always leaving home early no matter the kick off time to review tactics and you sending him a text to wish him luck with a picture of you - and later a picture of you and the kids - wearing his jersey.

After the match regardless of the result and after he has done any interviews, here you are together sharing a short but sweet moment. You remind him how proud you are of him, the children want to go and play on the pitch.

N - NOSE

His nose brushes your neck as he snuggles up against you to rest; his nose brushes yours gently in an Eskimo kiss before he makes your lips connect; his nose brushes your skin after you have just stepped out of the shower. You often teased him by saying he looked like a tracker but you liked that little attention, the build up to what came next.

O - OLD

You always tease him by claiming he's getting old, sprawled out on the couch after spending half an hour chasing his son completely out of energy while the kid would happily take another ten thousand steps in the backyard.

"If I'm old then so are you, you know that don't you?"

"Yeah" you shrug, "but I'm still younger than you"

P - PIXEL

It's no secret that Jordan travels a lot during the year, your pixilated face seen more times than he'd like. But you don't hold it against him, besides being work it's his dream and moving around so much means he's living it to the fullest; that he's required and indispensable to the team besides being its captain of course.

You have learned to live the moments when you are together, to cheer and not waste it. And every time he stops to look at you while you're sleeping by his side or even just at any other time, he can't stop remembering how much those pixels don't really do you justice.

R - RING

It was a normal day in your life when you realised as a teenager that you had a thing for guys' hands, and if they had rings for some reason it was a bonus.

And many times you'd literally froze as you stared at Jordan's hands moving as he talked or wrote or cooked, the addition of that ring after your wedding didn't help the cause. You were brought back down to earth by his laughter because it was always surprising how one minute you were actively participating in the conversation and the next you were like in trance.

S - SAFE

You don't think you've ever told him verbally but you were lucky enough to have met him. Jordan makes you feel safe and you don't talk about the need to be defended from the bad. You know that with Jordan you can talk about whatever is on your mind without fear of being judged, you know he will always be there for you no matter what. You're immediately heartened by the reminder that he's by your side because any moment is less hard if the right person is by your side.

T - TOMORROW

It is something you often talk about, tomorrow. Everything is unpredictable, you never wanted to make long-term plans because you never know what might happen but only one thing you know for sure that you want Jordan by your side. And your idea matches his.

"You are my tomorrow and as long as I wake up with you by my side I will have a reason to smile"

U - UNIVERSE

"You are my universe"

"Stop it"

"But you are, why wouldn't I tell you" he chuckles as you hit him trying to hide your face.

You are one who is always on the move, always available for others but at the same time doesn't know how to react to compliments. You do what you do not to be praised or anything else but just because you feel like it and every time after a compliment of any kind any word would seem unnecessary, making you stand in front of that person smiling embarrassed making you feel uncomfortable. There, if you had to find a word to describe it you could say that compliments make you uncomfortable.

And Jordan knows this very well, but every now and then when you're alone he starts showering you with compliments and sweet phrases for the sake of it. But the truth is that he likes it when you blush, your cheeks turning red as you do your best not to look him in the eye or hide your face in your hands.

V - VOWS

It seemed years away, but your wedding day had arrived overwhelmingly. You couldn't wait to experience that day and those emotions to the fullest. The thing that had been most challenging for you was the vows, so many things to say without finding the right words. Everything seemed already said, obvious, not perfect and several times you had been on the verge of a nervous breakdown for that small detail.

But on your wedding day, no one around you exists anymore. There's just you and Jordan and your hearts full of love for each other, his thumb caressing the back of your hand for support. You almost forget what you've been struggling to write over those last few months, the words that come easily from your lips just by looking into his eyes.

W - WINNER

Winner takes it all. Jordan watches from afar as you joke with some of his teammates and the only thing he can think about is how that year just ended was one of the most amazing of his life so far, both professionally and in his personal life. He had achieved extraordinary goals with the team, broken records and set new ones. And then he had you who had given him a child a few months earlier and he felt like a winner.

Y - YUMMY

"Yeah that's yummy" Jordan watches his baby close his mouth around the spoon and then bring his thumb to his mouth getting messy with his own food.

"Why do you do that hm? Why?" his tone of voice only makes the child laugh as he waits for another bite clapping his hands on the high chair. Jordan quickly satisfies him seeing the same scene repeat itself, the little hands that have now become sticky and are getting everything they touch dirty like they always do at feeding time.

Z - ZOOM

His professionalism never fails to amaze you as you watch him from afar managing to handle questions in front of a computer. It will be the third interview in which he's asked the same things over and over again and you have never seen him make any gesture of tiredness or annoyance. And you are waiting for him to finally get up from that chair to wrap him in your arm and give him the right amount of pampering he needs to clear his head of everything.

#thank you anon #jordan henderson #jordan henderson blurb

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via-whitmore · 3 years ago

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Fic: you’re too intact (Giles/Ethan PWP)

Oneshot for the @buffyversegiftexchange and @ Aspasiathebloody

CONTENT WARNINGS: Consensual breathplay/choking, powerplay, nonconsensual voyeurism, magically infused sex

Read on AO3

The truth of it was Ripper was never cut out for glam. By the time Bowie killed Ziggy, he was grateful the sequins and feathers were drifting to the stadium floor in spotlight and fading smoke. Ziggy was the beacon out of the dark of archives, tea rooms, and graveyards but he had no desire to start dressing like a peacock and learning to apply lip liner. He believed his mask was more subtle. The working class hard knocks dropout was easier to live in until he could forget everything they’d wanted him to be. So what if his parents hadn’t run a grocery? When he said anarchy he saw the Council building going up like Guy Fawkes day. He had his tower to pull down, same as any of the born East Ender. The death he’d seen would wake these alley brawlers screaming in the night. He deserved London. He deserved punk.

Ethan, on the other hand, would not let glam die even if he had to keep it alive single handedly under his own skin. Ethan taught Ripper much of this--the deserving. Ethan had the ability, with magic or without, to be so a part of London that he could wear its shadows like a skin while simultaneously being a bonfire in the gray rain. He wore the safety pinned leather jacket and the pink boa and lipstick. This was not always good for his safety. And much of their gang’s lives were taken up with cracking skulls over Ethan’s appearance. But he taught Ripper about dancing on the line between wanting to disappear and demanding to be heard. It was Ethan who stole Ripper his second guitar and their record player. It was Ethan who suggested Ripper sing lead vocal while he took the role of mosh pit disciple.

Now here they were. There was no place to fuck in the one room squat they were calling a flat unless all six of them were doing it together. Nominally, nebulously, the lines broke down into Deidre and Tommy, Randall and Phillip. Now, Ripper supposed, he and Ethan. One or the other had decided they wanted to fuck alone together. Ripper couldn’t remember who’d set his eyes on whom amidst the tangle of limbs and made the decision. He would never be able to even after it all turned to ash. They might still get pulled in on public indecency but this was the first year sodomy itself wouldn’t get them arrested. At least on paper.

“Someday we will all be free,” Ethan had said, tone flippant but eyes shining.

It was the kind of thing one could only say without irony at eighteen, no matter how disaffected one was trying to look. Ethan always believed in a future and his ability to move into it. Ripper was trying only to think about the now.

And now had Ethan up against an alley wall, the boy’s legs wrapped expertly around his back. Ethan was biting into the leather that covered Ripper’s shoulder to stifle his moans. It was not the first time, but one of the first. The first time, Ripper never would have done what he did next.

“Stop my breath,” whispered Ethan.

Ripper didn’t know what he meant. He covered his inexperience by reaching down into Ethan’s jeans, where the two of them rubbed together, and pinching the bare cock with two fingernails. He hushed Ethan’s scream by shoving his thumb into the boy’s mouth. Ethan could smell himself on fingers that were callused not only from guitars and fistacuffs. He would never ask where they came from. He pulled at the hand and placed it over his nose and mouth as Ripper expertly got his own jeans down just enough, Ethan supporting all his own weight. Something flashed in Ripper’s eyes, the barest spark of a question. Ethan nodded. Ripper reached into his pocket, smeared his fingers with lube, and began to play expertly against Ethan’s hole.

“Oh God! Oh God!”

Only Ethan knew what he was saying against Ripper’s palm. Sex was the only time he ever called down what was a fiction at best and an old bastard at worst.

What could I call down and move through this man’s hands? Ethan thought distractedly. What could I make with them? What could we make?

Ripper was rod-hard against Ethan without so much as a kiss in return. Ethan rubbed against him like a cat, slid down, and turned against the wall; presenting his ass. He never wore underwear. He reached into the pocket of his lowered jeans and pulled out a black scarf, tied it around his eyes, and listened to the sound of unzipping. The deep grunt Ripper gave as he pulled his cock out and slicked it thrilled through Ethan’s body. Under the layer of body heat and the cool mist, Ethan could feel the low current of dormant magic rolling off the other man’s taut body and touching deep inside to meet his own. In his personal darkness, he felt Ripper reach out and brush a fingertip against the scarf and into his curls. Then he slid a palm under Ethan’s silk shirt and stroked up his spine. Ethan’s breath deserted him at the shockingly tender touch, his jaw falling. He wanted to buck away from it and dissolve simultaneously. There was someone gentle underneath all the fury roiling in this man. Ethan had no use for gentleness.

Liar, liar, he thought. That’s okay, beauty, we can make you anyone you want to be. All masks become real with enough time.

He was forgetting the drab surroundings, retreating into a plane of only sensation under the hands. Then Ripper pinned him with all his weight to the wall and slipped inside him. He exhaled a hot breath on the back of Ethan’s neck. When Ethan howled, the palm came back against his lips. He licked it playfully. Ripper gave him a moment to adjust, to just let them feel one another, before he drew out slightly and struck into him.

“Faster,” Ethan begged after the third such movement.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” growled Ripper, but he picked up his pace.

Maybe he could sense how best to please Ethan. But it was a shaky assumption. He wasn’t used to this, Ethan could tell. No dirty little quickies in the hay with the stableboy at the country house. Maybe there had been a mean older boy in the dormitories. Or maybe there hadn’t been anyone at all. The thought added another layer of delight over the mounting pleasure and the low scald of magic.

“I could do anything to you,” Ripper hummed hotly against his ear. He sounded less commanding and more incredulous at the idea. Seeming to sense the slip in his guise, his voice assumed a harder edge. “Leave you here blind in a heap. Like a rat in the gutter.”

Ethan nudged the hand away from his mouth. Ripper obviously didn’t know enough to hold his turf.

“You’re in the gutter with me now,” he answered breathlessly.

Ripper didn’t know how to reply and so licked the back of Ethan’s neck. He crested Ethan further and further towards release but it wasn’t quite enough. He knew how to put the cherry on the cake.

Ethan knew how to bend a lover’s will with a spell. It did absolutely nothing for him. Devoting himself to chaos had been a way to rid himself of the controlling impulse inherent in magic. Molding the world to one’s desires was too...available. Ethan wanted to be Puck, not some Old Testament god.

He wanted the chance to give himself over to this mess of a man walking between selves. But sometimes, one had to grease the wheels just a little to see what the outcome would be.

He sent the message to Ripper’s hands where they pressed on the wall above his head, not to his mind exactly. The idea needed to be Ripper’s. Ethan was no beggar. The hands slid down and began to gently massage the sides of Ethan’s throat. He sighed encouragingly.

There was the barest instant of a halt while Ripper considered and even the fear Ethan felt added to the closeness of orgasm.

“That’s what you want?”

“Hurt me.”

“I--”

The illusion of Ripper broke for just that breath. Ethan wasn’t worried. All things with time.

“I’ll teach you.”

It could easily have been a disaster. Ethan might have had to think through the brink of orgasm to loosen a less experienced partner’s hands and avoid danger. It was his own fault. He hated asking for what he wanted; all the discussion. But he certainly didn’t want brain damage. But Ripper knew and somewhat hated that he knew. Old combat training came back. He mentally worked backwards from the desire to subdue an opponent, placing cupped hands on either side of Ethan’s neck again. The flutter of his rapid pulse beneath his fingers excited Ripper and pulled him back into the moment. He squeezed gently, moving his forefinger to apply some moderate pressure just below the trachea. Ethan’s legs tightened spasmodically around Ripper’s body and he bucked as he came. Ripper released his hold quickly, clutching Ethan close as he shuddered and muffled his cry in Ripper’s neck.

“Got you,” Ripper gasped. “I’ve got you.”

It was a long moment before Ethan wrapped his arms around Ripper in return.

“You’re good,” he gulped.

“You’re a manipulative little shit. And if you ever control me again, I’ll break your fucking jaw.”

“Promise?”

Ethan batted his eyelashes. Ripper pushed him away with a sneer. As Ethan stumbled backward, Ripper disguised catching him by the shoulder by steering him onto his knees.

“I gave you what you wanted.” His voice caught, then turned hard. “Your turn.”

Ethan grinned. As he obliged, neither of them knew someone out in the night rain had watched the moment with a hidden set of animal eyes. He admired the look of the two punk lovers. Watching them in the first fumblings of sticky submission almost made Spike wish he could still breathe. He did not know he stood several feet from a boy trained in every way to tear him apart. He did think perhaps it was time for a new look for such new and brazen times; something to lure such kids in their dark clubs.

It’s not the place of this work to ask if the boy would have done so had he caught the vampire staring. He only tossed back his head with a silent cry against the brick and let the cold air expand his lungs before he did up his pants and offered a hand to the one on the ground. Then they walked through the mist past the one who had been watching.

They raced each other up the stairs to their squat like children. They took off their damp clothes and didn’t bother to put on new ones. Ethan covered his surprised squeak when Ripper pulled him down to lay at his side on the mattress. If they fell asleep together, it wasn’t anyone’s business.

#I ACTUALLY DID IT #liv's fic #Buffy The Vampire Slayer #btvs #rupert giles #ethan rayne #buffyversegiftexchange

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imaginesupply · 4 years ago

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Sore backs and tented shorts, or The one where Tom gets a massage

Tom Hiddleston x Reader one-shot

It’s been ages since I’ve written anything and I’m feeling a bit rusty but inspiration just hit and my three remaining braincells - who’ve survived the current heatwave so far - came up with this smutty filth.

I hope you’ll enjoy! Let me know what you think :) (It’s proofread but it seems by ability to spot typos and mistakes rises by 200% percent as soon as I hit post.)

Word count: About 2.6k

Warnings: Oral sex (male receiving), improper uses of the word ‘God’ and unrealistic descriptions of massages.

---

Tom stretched, trying to pop the knots on his back, as he sat down to rest between scenes. Maybe he was getting old, too old for this, Tom pondered for a second before mentally slapping himself on the face. Who was he kidding? Loki was a role he'd never give up on, as in never ever.

So if that meant performing the various stunts himself for authenticity's sake and suffering through it, he would do it, without complaining.

He stretched once more, giving the battered script one last read before getting ready to shoot the next scene of the series.

The camera crew adjusted the filming angles while the make up artist powdered his face, making sure there was no excessive shine to his skin. Loki would certainly not break a sweat running away from a building he himself set on fire and throwing himself on the ground with a grin just a second before it all exploded.

Yes, Loki would undoubtedly be grinning in that situation, Tom reckoned. The human, however, tried not to flinch as he realised he'd have to run and throw himself on the mattress with all his strength, again and again. The mattress was certainly softer than the ground they'd CGI into the scene, but his body was also certainly more breakable than Loki's.

One hour later, Tom was spent. Letting himself collapse on the blue stunt mattress, he was relieved that everyone had finally agreed that the take had been perfect - the grin, the hair, the elegance. The only thing he wanted now was to hurry home and sleep. Maybe he could ever delay his shower to the next morning if he changed the sheets upon waking up, he negotiated with himself.

"Hey, you okay?"

Tom opened an eye only to find Kate crouched over him, a frown obscuring her features. "Yeah, I'm just feeling a little worn down, that's all."

Kate nodded to herself. For a second she felt guilty she was asking too much of him, but then they'd both agreed that they wanted the series to be perfect, whatever it took. "You were great back there."

His eyes were already closing again and he only nodded noncommittally. "Anyway, I suggest you go take a shower. The message therapist I booked for you is already setting up."

Tom sat up in a flash, his back protesting the movement. "That's very kind but I'm alright, no need for-"

"Be ready in ten minutes unless you want to be late," Kate interrupted him, challenging his British punctuality. He opened his mouth again, but she waved him off, knowing what he was going to say. "Bobby has been fed and walked. He's lying outside right now with part of the crew, enjoying the last sun rays of the day."

Tom cursed internally and got up, feeling outsmarted. This was not something he was looking forward to but he'd be damned if he showed up late.

"Also, this will be routine until we finish shooting." Kate added quietly before running off.

--- Water droplets ran down his back as he stepped out of the shower, a white towel wrapped low around his hips. Sighing, he cleaned some of the fog on the mirror with his hand and then proceeded to tumble dry his black hair before adding some nourishing product to it.

It was only then that he remembered he had no change of clothes with him, more specifically underwear, since he always preferred showering at home. Contemplating his clothes on the back of the chair, he concluded that he didn't have many options unless he wanted to put on the boxers briefs he had worn all day or go nude. Tom chuckled to himself at the latter thought, already imagining a young male therapist telling him to take his English countryside back over the pond. Deciding not to make the person he'd have to see for the next month uncomfortable on the very first day, Tom pulled on the black running shorts he had worn to set that morning, going commando underneath.

---

One minute late, Tom knocked on the door to the infirmary.

"Come on in." A voice replied. A feminine voice to be exact. Not what he had expected.

Obeying the lady, Tom opened the door and let himself in, his eyes landing on his new massage therapist for the very first time. Clearly not what he had expected. Tom swallowed, using his acting skills to appear nonchalant even as he subtly - or at least, as subtly as was possible in such small quarters - eyed the woman in front of him.

Her hair was tied back in a neat ponytail, revealing the elegant curve of her neck. She was wearing a tight fitting white t-shirt with equally white yoga pants. A look of purity all in all though it had his mind immediately wandering to the realms of exquisitely impure thoughts.

"Hi! I'm (Y/N). Nice to meet you, Tom," she introduced herself, stretching out her hand for him to shake. "Oh! Do you mind me calling you Tom? I can also go for Mister Hiddleston if you prefer."

Tom suppressed a groan, there was always something about being called that that got his mind spinning. Chastising himself, he shook her hand, flexing his biceps more than was necessary. Her hand was soft and warm and small, exactly what he needed. "Nice to meet you, (Y/N). Please do call me Tom. We'll be seeing each other quite a lot after all."

She nodded, smiling kindly before telling him to lie down on the massage table. Tom noticed that it was in fact surprisingly wide, but didn't think much of it. Maybe Kate was right, he needed this. His body undeniably did and if he were honest, he had been craving the touch of another human, feeling rather lonely as of late. Most of his friends were back in London, and those that weren't, were still too far away. As for a different kind of touch, a woman's company to be more exact, he couldn't remember the last time he had being blessed with it either. Definitely before Atlanta, he concluded.

He barely heard her move around, her naked feet making little to no noise on the floor. "We will do a combination of deep tissue and Thai massage today, so that I can determine your problem areas for the next time."

Tom was in fact aware of a very problematic area of his but decided to spare her the dirty joke. He just didn't realise quite yet how problematic that area was in fact going to become.

(Y/N) came to a stop in front him, he could feel her presence as she warmed the oil between her palms before finally gliding her hands over the skin of his back. Tom couldn't help the pleasurable hum that escaped his lips as she started working out the knots on his back, some of them loosening under her touch with an audible crack that had her chuckling. God, even her voice was perfect. Dozing off was becoming more and more tempting to Tom, his eyelids feeling heavier than ever when she bent forward over his body to reach farther down his back. He felt her breasts press against him as she did so, the back of his head suddenly encompassed between them. Yes, there was the bra and then that pesky t-shirt between her chest and his skin but his body didn't seem to care. Not even one bit.

Clenching his teeth, Tom felt blood rush down to his once again problematic area. The fact that his dick was squished under him only served to make the situation all the more uncomfortable. Tom groaned, wether from arousal or frustration, he wasn't sure.

"Are you okay, Tom? Did I hurt you?" (Y/N) asked with concern.

Tom swallowed nervously. "No, don't worry. Your hands feel great."

She moved away from him, the weight of breasts gone and he breathed out in relief. That is, until he heard her climb onto the massage table with him.

What the-? It was then that he remembered what a Thai message entailed from a vague conversation he'd once had with Ben and Sophie.

Before he could come up with a way to get out of this... predicament, (Y/N) straddled his hips and all but sat down on his butt. His cock immediately reacted to change in pressure.

"You've got quite a knot here," she explained, softly rubbing her fingers near his spine, about halfway up his back. "I'm going to try and break up the knotted tissue. Tell me if it hurts too much."

It did hurt, the way the heel of her hand pressed against the sensitive area. But it definitely didn't hurt enough to kill his arousal. If anything, it made it worse with the way he felt her weight shift above him whenever she moved. Instead of relaxing, he was only growing more tense.

As Tom felt precum bead on his glans as she climbed off of him, having him feel equally disappointed and relieved when she went to work on his legs.

Her hands felt heavenly, sometimes painfully heavenly, as they moved over his calves. Not that it is eased his arousal, but Tom was confident that the massage was almost done and he'd soon be able to climb into the shower again and use the opportunity to wank himself to an orgasm.

He'd certainly think of her as he'd stroke his shaft later, imagining she was there with him. Water running down her body, rendering her obscene white t-shirt transparent, her nipples visibly pebbling even behind two layers of fabric. His cock seemed to enjoy his fantasy as well, now so hard that Tom seriously started considering rubbing himself on the towel draped over the table to find some relief.

His thoughts were interrupted when she moved over his knees, to his his thighs. Her delicate fingers folding back his shorts to reveal more of his legs. Tom jerked suddenly, trying to hide his erection from her hands and crushing it under his belly in the process. He winced.

Undoubtedly sensing Tom was tensing up again, (Y/N) made quick work of his thighs. Maybe he was a bit shy and didn't like being touched there, she reckoned, shrugging to herself to hide her disappointment. She'd always enjoyed her job, finding satisfaction in other people's well-being. But massaging Tom Hiddleston? She would have done it for free (don't tell her boss!).

"Please turn around, Tom." She said softly after finishing up the back of his legs

He startled. "What?!" Came his terrified voice.

(Y/N) frowned. "Can you please lie down on your back now? So that I can work on your chest and the front of your legs."

Tom stilled, silently panicking. "That won't be necessary. It's quite late and I'm feeling much better already."

"Nonsense. I won't leave you unfinished," she protested, his cock twisting her words. "Besides, my boss would kill me if she ever found out I left a client halfway through a massage."

His jaw clenched. He was torn between two equally bad options, but in the end, he inner gentleman couldn't stand to be the one to jeopardise her job.

Slowly, Tom turned around on the table, still hoping that his erection wouldn't be as noticeable as it felt but the tent in his shorts was impossible to hide, sticking straight up to the ceiling.

She stared at his face curiously, observing his reddening cheeks before lowering her gaze. "Oh," she gasped.

Somehow, part of him had hoped her reaction would have been less shocked and perhaps a bit more pleased. As it was, she just stood there like that and he threw his forearm over his eyes, hoping it would lessen the embarrassment. It didn't.Sighing, he made a move to get up, hesitating whether he should apologise before leaving or if that would only make things worse.

The weight shifted on the massage table as she climbed on top, joining him on the soft padding.

Instantly, Tom lifted his head off the pillow, holding himself up on his forearms, bewilderedly watching Y/N as she knelt between his legs. "What are you doing?" He asked, his voice croaky, his eyes glued to her décolleté which the neckline failed to hide in this position.

She looked up at him slowly, coyly, though her grin was nothing if not provocative. "Hoping to release all tension in your body," she replied, her tongue peeking through as her hands went to his hips, thumbs drawing circles over his shorts. "If you'll let me, that is."

Tom swallowed audibly, almost expecting her to throw her head back and start laughing. But she never did. Instead, she sat back on her haunches, waiting for him to consent. "God. Yes, please!" He breathed out, his British accent growing thicker.

(Y/N) licked her lips, fingers working behind her head to tighten her ponytail. "Now that's more like it, Mister Hiddleston."

Without missing a second, she bend forward, lowering her face to place a kiss on his stomach, just below his belly button. Tom's muscles tensed in response, already looking forward to what was to come.

He struggled between the desire to watch and the impulse to lean back and simply enjoy. She made the decision for him, her hand pressing down on his sternum before moving her attention back to his groin.

Tom hissed as he felt her lips kiss the head of his cock through the lightweight fabric. His body suddered, his cock throbbed and she chuckled. (Y/ N) repeated the process a few more times, enjoying the teasing. Then, she moved her fingers to the elastic waistband and pulled his shorts down, grazing his buttocks with her nails.

His cock sprang free, hitting his lower stomach a couple of times and Tom already felt a drop of precum slide down from the glans to his belly button. (Y/N) surprised him, first neglecting his weeping cock in favour of his balls, sucking them into her mouth one after the other, teasing them with the tip of her tongue.

Tom groaned her name, squirming beneath her and thrusting up. With a smile, (Y/N) decided to give in. She traced the tip of her nose along his length until reaching the head and then wrapped her tongue around the glans, teasing the frenulum. Tom moaned loudly

He felt her hand wrap around the base of his cock before she took him in her mouth, as much as would fit. Instantly, his hand settled on the back of her head, caressing instead of pushing. "Just like that, darling."

She took to humming around his length, intermittently sucking in her cheeks and Tom started feeling the telltale tightening in his groin faster than he should. His hand gripped her ponytail harder, alerting her but her movements didn't slow. Tom propped himself up on his elbows, groaning at the sinful sight of debauchery in front of him.

"I'm close," he managed to warn her through clenched teeth. (Y/N) looked up at him, never halting her movements and the mischievous look she addressed him revealed that she knew exactly what she was doing.

Tom dug his heels against the padding of the table, canting up his hips and thrusting up in her mouth as his orgasm washed over him. (Y/N)meticulously sucked him clean, swallowing down rope after rope of his cum whilst humming around him.

"God, (Y/N). That was..." For once he was left without words, still dizzy with pleasure in the aftermath of his orgasm.

She licked his cum off her lips, taking in the sight in front of her with a smile, acutely aware of her own arousal. Tom's chest was flushed, heaving as he fought to regain his breath, his eyes still closed.

It was only then that she realised what she had done. She had blown Tom Hiddleston - a client.

#tom hiddleston smut #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston #hiddleston smut #tom x reader #tom hiddleston one shot #smut #loki smut

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illfoandillfie · 4 years ago

Note

Pls just more Ben smut, any idea that comes to mind for the blurbs thingy, all your work are some of my favs and there can never be enough Benny 😫🥵😍

ahhhh thank you! And you’re so right, there can never be enough Benny.

This idea has been in my head for the last week-ish, so i decided to use it and ended up writing like 2.7k for it lmao i hope you like it!

warnings: Smut, dollification, dom!ben, oral (m receiving), and a little bit of biting

Advent Blurbs: Day 12

“Urgh, what else is on?” Ben asked, juggling his dinner plate as he reached for the TV remote. He flicked through some channels but it all looked as boring as the rest. Finally, he settled on the second half of an episode of Britain’s Got Talent. It wasn’t what you usually watched but Ben had already said he didn’t want to get invested in anything on Netflix because he had some work to do after dinner and didn’t want to be distracted from it. It was partway through an act when you switched it on, some sort of acrobatics thing, mildly impressive but not so much that you couldn’t talk through it between bites of your food. The next act was a very pitchy singer and the one after the ad break was some sort of magic act, but you barely noticed them. Ben certainly didn’t have any issues with ignoring the show in favour of your conversation either. Until a woman stepped out on stage dressed up in a puffy skirt with a wind up gear on her back. She danced, her movements intentionally stiff as if she were a music box doll that had escaped. Ben was entranced, his fork hovering above his plate as if he’d forgotten he was about to take a bite. His eyes never left the screen for the entirety of the performance. You were more amused by Ben’s reaction than the performance itself but as the dancing came to an end and Ben returned to his senses you agreed with his appraisal of her.

“She was good,” he said, adjusting his plate over his lap.

Ben ate a few more bites before taking his dishes to the kitchen. He dropped a kiss to the top of your head as he passed back through the living room.

“I’ll be in the study if you need me.”

You nodded and reached for the remote to find something better to watch.

You didn’t see Ben again until you were heading to bed though at one point you got up to use the bathroom and heard a muffled groan from behind the closed door to the study. You figured he was grappling with a particularly difficult script or something like that and left him to it. As you were settling into bed with a book, Ben entered the room. He joined you on the bed but plucked the book from your hands as he kissed you.

You broke off with a breathless sort of laugh, “what was that for?”

“Can I not just kiss my girlfriend for the hell of it?”

“I s’pose that’s allowed,” you giggled as Ben caught your lips again. But Ben was clearly in the mood for more than a kiss, nipping at your neck as he settled on top of you. And it didn’t take him long at all to get your pants off.

Both of you slept well that night and you thought nothing of it until a couple of days later.

You were watching TV again while Ben was out with some friends but looked around at the sound of the door opening.

“How was it?” you asked as Ben dropped onto the couch beside you.

“Yeah great. Had a few games of poker which was fun.”

“You win any?”

“Not one,” he laughed, “But I di-” Ben paused, his attention drawn to the TV as an ad for Britain’s Got Talent started. It featured clips from the doll dancer’s performance and once again Ben seemed to be completely entranced by it for the duration of the ad. They showed her doing a move that involved lifting her leg up high and Ben let out a soft groan. You waited for the ad to finish and Ben’s attention to shift back to you.

“What was I saying?” he asked, giving his head a little shake.

“Do you think she’s hot?”

“What?”

“The girl dressed as a doll.” You clarified.

“Babe, no,”

“No, I’m not upset. You’re allowed to find other women attractive. I’m just curious cause every time she’s on screen you sort of get lost in it.”

“No, it’s not her, not exactly,”

“What does that mean?”

Ben filled his cheeks with air and slowly let it out, “It’s the way she’s dressed.”

You waited for him to explain further.

“You know Jessie in Toy Story 2? I had a pretty big crush on her as a kid and then as a teenager it kind of sparked a few, um, well… I got off to her a lot.”

You had to giggle at that and Ben laughed softly too, his cheeks flushed.

“Yeah, kinda silly but it started cause she was a cute cowgirl and I was horny all the time and so it was just like the natural thing to do. But then, as I learnt more about sex, I started thinking about fucking her too. And it all kind of snowballed.”

“So that’s why you think the doll dancer is hot? Cause of Toy Story?”

“Kind of. There’s a bit more to it. See, um, one of my mates from high school had a hot older sister. Red hair she used to wear in a plait. Might have had the hots for her cause she reminded me of Jessie. So then I started getting off to the thought of fucking her. Except there was all this doll stuff mixed up in there too.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like the idea of posable limbs and, um… Cause with Jessie, right, she’s a soft ragdoll type of doll, yeah? So a lot of what I’d imagined with her was like a human sized version of her that would lie there like a limp ragdoll while I fucked her. And that was sort of where it started with the idea of the hot sister but then I hit phases where I thought about other sorts of dolls more. As a joke one Christmas my brother got me a off brand Barbie so after that in the fantasies she’d be like a posable plastic doll who I could position how I wanted. Sometimes it was like a wind up doll who had limited movement when I wound her up. Sometimes she’d have a voicebox and I’d press a button or pull a string and she’d say something dirty, ask for it harder or moan or whatever.” Ben looked at you nervously, “I know it’s weird. But…yeah.”

“It’s not that weird,” you said, grabbing his hand between both of yours, “I think I kind of get why it’d be hot. Would, um, would you ever want to do that with me?”

“Babe, you don’t have to do that. I only mentioned it because you asked, I wasn’t trying to get you into it or anything.”

“No, I know. But would you? If I wanted to would you be into that?”

“Well, yeah, I would be into it. I mean, not gonna lie I have kind of thought about it before.”

“Really? Dressing me up and posing me?”

“Yeah,”

“That’s kinda hot,” you giggled again and Ben seemed to relax.

“I’m glad you don’t think it’s too weird, but I’m serious, you don’t have to indulge this idea at all.”

“Okay. Thank you for telling me though.” You pulled him down into a soft kiss that you hoped would reassure him that you weren’t freaked out by his confession, but already your mind was spinning with ideas.

The next day you dug through your wardrobe and found your most suitably doll like dress. It wasn’t as ruffled as the dancer’s skirt had been but it was short and felt like something a slutty doll might wear. You decided to forgo underwear since most dolls didn’t have them and slipped the dress over your head. Following a youtube tutorial, you did your make up so your eyes would look bigger and doll like and used a soft pink lipstick to shape your lips before adding a little blush to your cheeks. You gave your hair a brush through to make sure it was smooth and then took a seat on the edge of the bed, holding yourself stiff with your hands in your lap, and called out to Ben.

You heard his footsteps approaching and then the bedroom door swung open.

“Oh my god,”

You had to bite your cheek to keep from smiling too much.

Ben took a few tentative steps towards you and then stopped, taking in the sight, “I can’t believe you did this,” he said softly, “fuck I’m lucky.” He stepped closer, running his fingers though the hair around your ear. You shivered slightly as his fingers traced along your jaw, coming to rest at your chin. He tilted your head up and leaned down to kiss you softly.

It was hard to sit still as Ben ran his hands down your shoulders and towards your breasts. He spent a while just fondling you, squeezing your breasts and tweaking your nipples. You could feel your nipples stiffening and fought the urge to arch your back and push your chest against his hands, though you couldn’t quite hide the soft whine the rose up at the attention. Ben didn’t mind though. You saw him smile at the sound, and the tent in the front of his pants was evidence enough that he liked your surprise.

“What should I do with you?” he muttered to himself as he began to undress down to his boxers. He stepped in close again once the extra layers had been removed and placed a hand on the back of your head, pushing you towards his crotch. A damp patch had already begun to form on the front of his pants and it only grew as he rubbed his clothed cock against your face. You focused on breathing to keep from moving though all you could smell was his musky arousal. When he finally sat you back you unconsciously licked your lips, able to taste his precum on them.

“Let’s stand you up Doll,” he said, pulling you to your feet and repositioning your legs so they were parted a little wider. He moved your arms too, still bent at the elbow but raised higher so he could freely lift your dress. The sight of your bare pussy pulled a growl from Ben and he wasted no more time, licking his fingers and rubbing them along your slit. You were already a little wet (it surprised you just how much of a turn on the whole thing was) but the way he roughly grabbed your arse in one hand as his other explored your cunt soon had you even wetter. He pressed the heel of his hand against your clit as he teased your entrance with his fingertips, sinking them in and pulling them out again.

“That’s a good fuck doll,” he said as he pressed his fingers deeper and you bit back a moan. When he was satisfied that you were ready he pulled his hands away. Turning you around he repositioned your limbs again, unfolding your arms so they stuck out in front of you. He pressed on your back, bending you forward at the waist so your arms were braced against the mattress and readjusted your legs. You waited, trying to keep steady and not whine as you listened to his underwear drop. And then he was right behind you, one hand on your hip as he slid into your cunt. You hadn’t realised just how into it Ben would be but the whole doll scenario had turned him feral. He didn’t give you much time to adjust, just started fucking you hard as growling noises rose in his throat. One of his hands moved to your hair, holding it in a vice like grip as he leaned forward and bit down on your shoulder. You gasped at the sudden spike of pain but it was gone half a second later, the imprint of his teeth left as evidence. Your legs shook with the effort of holding your position and the force of Ben’s thrusts. Suddenly you felt empty as he disappeared from your cunt. He wrapped his arms around your waist and nearly threw you onto the bed, making you squeal in surprise. He pushed you onto your back and repositioned you so that one leg was strait up in the air, the other bent towards you and both of your hands placed on it to hold it. He leaned against the edge of the bed, placing one knee onto the mattress so he could sink into you again, letting you rest the leg that was in the air against his shoulder. He didn’t reach quite as deep as he had when you’d been standing but the position let him watch your face. You kept it as impassive as possible though you couldn’t keep from opening your mouth and moaning as he dropped his thumb to your clit. He leaned forward, pressing your legs closer to your body as he fucked you.

“Cum for me Doll,” he commanded, pressing harder against your clit, “cum all over my cock.”

It didn’t take much longer for you to reach your release, moaning as Ben kept fucking you. He pulled out of you again and readjusted you once more, pushing your arms aside as he pulled you to sit up, bringing your head forward. He squeezed your cheeks to keep your mouth open as pressed his cock between your lips.

“Taste yourself Doll.” He pushed you further down his length until you gagged and then pulled back out again, gripping your hair and rubbing your face against his cock, smearing your face with saliva and your own juices, before slipping it into your mouth once more. “Taste all that creamy cum you made,” he snapped his hips forward, fucking into you, his cock twitching against your tongue as he neared his own orgasm. He growled again as he came, replacing the taste of you with his own.

You weren’t sure if he’d want to do more so you sat there, cum pooled on your tongue, keeping yourself as still as possible though breathing heavier than before, waiting to be moved around again. Ben tentatively sat beside you on the edge of the bed and stoked your hair again, watching closely.

“I’m done,” he said softly, “You don’t need to be a doll anymore.”

You sighed and stood, reaching for the box of tissues that lived on your nightstand.

“Are you okay?” Ben asked, biting his lip, “Sorry if that was too much, I shouldn’t have told you about it.”

You shook your head before pressing a tissue to your lips and spitting the cum into it, “Ben I’m okay, I promise. You know I don’t like swallowing.”

“Oh,” he gave you a shy smile and a small laugh, “Yeah, should have realised.”

You took the place beside him again, entwining your fingers with his as you leaned your head on his shoulder.

“So, you really are okay? That wasn’t too much?”

“Are you kidding? That was so fucking hot!” you laughed and lifted your head to look at him, “I’m very very very glad you told me.”

“And I wasn’t too rough? I mean I bit you, are you sure that was alright?”

“Ben, stop worrying. That was a big part of what made it so hot. You don’t get rough very often so seeing you like that, feeling you grab me and position me and all that, was fun.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes! You know I’d tell you if it didn’t feel good. I’ll just have to make sure I don’t wear anything sleeveless until the mark clears up.”

He laughed again and wrapped and arm around your waist to pull you in close, “That makes me feel a lot better. Thank you for doing that for me too, you’re an incredible girlfriend.”

“I am,” you bumped his shoulder with yours, “but you’re an incredible boyfriend too.”

Ben kissed you again but this time you kissed back, glad you were able to.

“We should probably clean up, babe,”

You nodded and stood up, hand still in Ben’s, pulling him along with you as you headed to the bathroom, “Next time we should try the ragdoll thing,”

“Next time?”

“Well I assume you’ll want to do it again. I definitely do.”

#my writing #my blurbs #smut blurb #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy smut #ben hardy imagine #listen #i know 1 person who will be into this #because we've talked about dollification before #but i hope some of the rest of you are into it too lmao #my doll kink is very strongly tied to my bimbo kink tho #and i have defs considered doll play with rog in the future management verse #but the idea of ben being into it is hhhhhhhhhh #fuck im gonna be wet all day now #blurb advent 2020 #Anonymous

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mouse-fantoms · 3 years ago

Text

Based off this lovely art by the lovely @pintobeanart

Sparkles

Julie adjusted the way the jacket laid on her when she looked in the mirror.

“See! Told you it would look good.” Alex felt victorious that his outfit suggestion looked just as good as he thought.

Julie was in her room, getting ready for their newest gig while the boys were on her bed. Luke sat criss-cross on her bed, Alex sat on the edge and Reggie opted to sit on the floor with his back leaned against her bed. In the short amount time, the ‘Stay out of my room!’ rule seemed to dissipate.

She had, at most, 20 minutes before having to leave to go the newest gig they booked. A collaboration gig with Dirty Candi. In the past, Julie would have never guessed the collaboration would be the case. However, Carrie was becoming the old her that Julie knew and had grown up slowing but surely. She made her remember why they were ever friends in the first place.

“Is it too much?” She pulled her curls over her shoulders, testing hair that could go with the look.

“For Dirty Candi? Never enough sparkles.” She nodded in agreement with Alex’s statement.

“I like the jacket.” Reggie smiled, having his input on the cropped sparkly leather jacket Julie had on, her Stand Tall jacket. She had to match the sparkles that were Dirty Candi.

“Hmm I wonder why?” Luke asked, sarcasm seeping out.

“They are quite comfortable.” She adjusted the fit of the sleeves while defending Reggie’s outfit choice.

She started to run her fingers through her hair, a skeptical look crossing her face as she thought of what do it with it.

“Maybe a ponytail.” Luke put in.

“Ooo, yeah and a high one too.” Reggie shared his idea.

It was always helpful having the input of the boys for her looks for their gigs. They didn’t have much of a wardrobe choice, with their 90’s clothes and clothing out of bags to cycle through. However, Julie’s closet had much more options. It was fun trying to match the boy’s 90’s appearance with what she currently had.

When she put up her hair in the high ponytail, she saw the nods of approval from the boys in the mirror. However, when she looked at herself, she didn’t know what but something was missing. She noticed the clear cylinder containers on her vanity, along with the tube of lash glue on its side. A sign.

“Aren’t you done?” Luke seemed impatient.

“Adding the finishing touch.” They saw her dab something clear under her eyes, across the bridge of her nose. She started to fan both sides of her face.

“What-? Are you going to cry?” Alex seemed concerned.

“No, no, no!” She immediately calmed the boys. “I’m waiting for it to become tacky.”

They apparently needed more of an explanation than that.

“Waiting to apply.” She held up the round container of glitter.

All their pupils seemed to grow in size in combination with their mouths becoming circles when seeing the sparkles. Alex turned behind him to see his friends had the same exact expression he had. They started to exchange a look with each other.

Julie immediately knew what they all were thinking when she saw their faces. “You know... if only one us has the sparkles... that’d look very out of place.”

“Do you have red?” Reggie raised his hand before being called on.

“I have a lot of colors.” She gestured to the containers that were lined up. “Why don’t you three decide who’s going first while I put mine on?”

She heard mummers and she applied the purple glitter to the glue under her eyes. She turned around when she heard the mummers stop when she finished putting on her glitter. She saw that Alex was sat at the ottoman at the end of her bed, he must be going first.

She grabbed the tube of glue. “Do you want it under your eyes or-”

“Same as yours.”

She nodded as she carefully applied the glue in the same spot she did hers.

“We need to wait till that becomes tacky.” She informed. “While we’re waiting what color do you want? Rainbow? Pink? ...Some other color?” She felt like she already knew what he wanted.

He looked at the bracelet on his right wrist that matched one of the options. “I can do rainbow?” It has come out a whisper question than anything else.

“Or I have light pink, dark pink,-”

“...I’ll-” he cut himself off to adjust his volume to his normal one, “I’ll do the rainbow.” He said clearly with a smile. He didn’t even need to look behind him to know that his friend’s had the same smile as he did.

“Great!” She seemed excited at his answer. She grabbed the capsule of red glitter. But then looked at Alex, the glitter then at Reggie. “Actually Reggie, come over here.” He scooted next to the ottoman Alex was on. She bent down and started to apply glue under his eyes. “It’ll just be easier to do all the red I need now. Then I’m not risking making a mess.” She explained once done with Reggie’s glue application.

After, she went back to Alex and carefully applied the red glitter to the right side of his face. She was more careful with his since there were more colors and it would look neater with no over lap of colors. Once she was done with the red on him, she moved over to Reggie.

He couldn’t help but jump up to admire the new addition to his face in the mirror. “Luke! Look how sparkly!” He dived on the bed and moved his head around to show the sparkles to his friend. Luke couldn’t help but smile at the excitement from Reggie.

Julie continued to put the small glitters across Alex’s under eyes, hoping she estimated right with how much to put on of each color so it wouldn’t look wonky in the end.

“Are you doing it diagonal across?” He could have opened his eyes and have seen some in the mirror. Though, it was relaxing closing his eyes as she worked her magic.

“Not straight.” She said without really thinking until she got a chuckled reaction from all of them. “Yes diagonal.” She agreed while also having a smile from what she had said.

She had put the red, orange, yellow, and green on his face, reapplying the glue that had become dry on him. It was when she reached for the next color that she was reminded of who else had to go.

“I can go after you’re done with him.” Luke already knew what she remembered when she paused before applying the blue glitter.

She nodded as she added the blue then indigo then purple to finish the look off. “You’re all set. ” She stepped aside so he could see himself in the mirror.

As soon as he moved his head around, all the sparkles shined. “Definitely eye catching. Can see why Dirty Candi sparkles so much.”

Julie looked at Luke, the odd one out who didn’t have glitter on his face yet. “Do you want blue or-”

“He might want purple.” Reggie input.

“Or maybe purple and blue.” Alex added.

They knew exactly what they were doing with the colors they suggested and the implications of them.

“I can do blue.” He tried to tune out his friends who were being embarrassing. “I mean not that I don’t want purple, it’s a great color, it’s just that you know you’re already wearing the color and I wouldn’t wanna take that away from you. Plus, do purple and blue even look good together? I mean I hope they would, it would be a shame if they didn’t. Because purple is such a-”

“Got it. Blue for you.” As much as she wanted to hear Luke explain why he liked the color purple, Alex and Reggie were enjoying it too much as he fumbled over his words.

She grabbed the blue glitter container and the glue and sat on the bed across from Luke, matching his way on sitting cross cross on the bed. She unscrewed the glue.

“Why don’t you two make sure everything is ready before we have to go?”

“Really?” Alex sighed. “I mean we’ll just poof in and it’ll all be there and it’ll-” the look from Julie said otherwise, “Alright, let’s go Reg.”

“Oh, that wasn’t hard.” Luke said when the two had poofed away. Sometimes it easier than others to make the two leave.

“Now that they’re gone you can explain to me why you like the color purple.”

...Well he wasn’t completely in the clear even without the addition of Reggie and Alex.

“Oh well,” he looked up when she started to apply the glue, knowing perfectly well he didn’t need to, “it’s a great color... it looks great with anything-”

“Even blue?”

“I mean, if you think it looks good with blue then... yeah sure. I mean I’d hope it looks good with that color because- oh that stinks so bad.” He got a whiff of the glue.

“Oh don’t complaint,” she smiled, “Alex and Reggie said nothing of the smell.”

“How close are you getting to my eyes with that? It feels like you might go right into my eye.”

“I’m putting as much on you as I did their’s.” She capped the glue when she applied an even layer on.

“This is gonna suck to take off later, isn’t it?” He now looked at her since the glue part was done.

“...We can figure that out later.” She fanned the sides of his face to make the glue become tacky quicker.

“That was really great that you gave the option of rainbow for Alex.”

“Yeah.” She smiled trying to imagine how much it meant to him. “I figured he’d probably go with pink but considering I had all the colors for a rainbow... he could go with that.”

“We definitely couldn’t have done something like that back in the day.”

“Well,” she unscrewed the blue glitter, “happy to tell you that times have changed.”

She started dabbing the blue on him. This time, he didn’t look up. He continued to look at her.

“Do you want this blue all throughout? I have other shades. I could do a gradient from dark to light or-”

“Do you like blue?” He asked in more of a whisper than intended.

She hesitated, still applying the glitter. “...It’s a complicated... color. Not that it itself is complicated just- considering the other factors of that... color.”

Subtly was absolutely not their game.

“...Even with purple it looks... good?”

“...I mean what do you think?”

“Hey! You can’t turn this back around on me. I’m asking the questions this time.”

“Fine,” she rolled her eyes, “blue is-”

“Oww, oww, oww! That’s like right in my eyeball.” He cut her off feeling a rouge glitter irritate his eye.

“I was distracted by your questions.” She tried to fix it while he leaned away to try to fix it himself. “Come back here you’re gonna make it worse. Luke come-”

“Oww!” He let out trying to fix it himself, even though he couldn’t see anything at all with what he was doing.

“Well now blue’s being complicated.”

“Well purple is- OWW! OWW! Okay, okay, help please.” He leaned back to her while scooting closer so she could get out the loose glitter as soon as possible.

Like a game of Operation, she meticulously removed the single glitter.

“That was almost a catastrophe.” She showed that she was successful by flicking away the straggler. “Sorry I called blue complicated.” She added the last blue glitters to his face.

“Sorry I almost said purple was taking too long with her answers.”

“Blue did the same with his.” She pointed out.

“I know blue did, makes more sense purple would take more time with hers.”

They might have been beating around the bush, but the two smiled at each other knowing what the other was meaning when they said the color names.

“There.” She signaled she was done by putting the lid back on the container.

He looked passed her shoulder in the mirror. “Wow!” He seemed happy with the job she did. “You should do this more often.”

“Just not the getting glitter in the eye part?”

He laughed. “Yeah not that.”

His eyes couldn’t help but look at the glitter on her as her eyes did the same with his. Conscious of the distance between them.

“Maybe purple would look good with the blue.”

“Now you tell me that.” She laughed.

“Unless, making a dark purple would be another option.”

Theoretically, given that the colors were stuck to their face and couldn’t mix to make a new color, making dark purple would be a challenge.

“I think,” Julie gave her input, “purple and blue would look rad together.”

It wasn’t until later at the performance, when the light hit the glitters on the Julie and the Phantoms band, why there seemed to be extra mic shares than normal, even with the inclusion of Dirty Candi on the stage. When the light hit, was when the drummer and bassist noticed the little mixture of purple and blue glitters across their friends’ faces. A sprinkle of blue on Julie’s and a bit of purple on Luke’s. At least it was true that purple and blue looked good together.

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sopxhiea · 4 years ago

Text

Dare

Alfie Solomons X Reader

| Prompt

“Could you come get me?”

“I’m not a damsel in distress. I’m a damsel doing damage.”

Warning: Blood. A lot of it.

This wasn’t bound to happen.

The grounds were quiet, the only breathing soul besides you had been shot a while ago. The wind blew against the fragile leaves, caressing them in a manner that certainly did not go with the scene before you.

You breathed in forcefully, feeling the cold stone base of the stair against your skin through your sheer dress. Inhaling once more, you shifted without realising. Your upper body was covered in blood, most of it someone else’s but the taste of it was the same when you’d shot the men.

A sigh escaped your lips, the want to scream resided somewhere deep in your now hollow chest while you stared at the situation before you.

Blood, three dead men laying on the ground next to the water fountain, an abandoned car, wind in your face as you wiped the dried blood off of your hands even though it didn’t help much.

Your hands were shaking as you sat on the cold stone again, getting up every now and then because you didn’t quite know what to do. It wasn’t fear that made you shake, it was adrenaline.

A man named John had called you in for a meeting, saying that he had some valuable information. It had been a bait and you knew it, that was why you had blades and small guns decorating your upper thighs if he tried to do something funny. And he had, he was now making his way down to hell, you assumed.

You looked into the building that was right behind you, it was a big mansion that had been abandoned a while ago. The want to escape urged you to stand up and walk inside, praying to the gods you heard people pray to so that you wouldn’t be dead soon.

A phone came into your vision, it was located outside of the back side. You lifted it up, it worked. There was a chuckle from you at the relief but it disappeared not too long after. You couldn’t call your assistant, he was out of town and you had already given him hell enough times.

You couldn’t call Thomas, he was busy with some bookies and the Italians. You knew he would hold it over your head for some time and being in debt of someone was not something you looked forward to. You sighed, shaking your head while going for the number of the bakery.

You didn’t want to call him.

You were covered in blood and dirt and had just killed two men. The other man was on your side but he’d been the sacrifice for you to stay alive. There was a wait on the other end before he picked up. You at cursed yourself internally for doing this but he was the only one you could rely on.

You had done business with him a couple times when you were around Camden. Tommy trusted him which made you trust him, he had proven to be reliable and a little too direct and stubborn but nothing you couldn’t deal with.

“‘ello?” he asked on the other end of the line for the third time. You pinched yourself to see if you were actually dead, you calling Alfie for help was something of a decoration of your nightmares. You’d wanted things to go differently.

“It’s me..” you whispered into the line, the cold getting under your skin while you held onto your now bloody coat. It was heavier due to the soaking of the fluid.

He recognised your voice instantly.

Feeding into his playful nature when it came to you, he was about to make a joke but your voice trembled under the clouded spring weather so he stopped. There was no response as you swallowed, hoping that this call wasn’t a mistake you were making due to the adrenaline in your system. You took a breath and spoke up after the long pause.

“Alf-”

“What the fuck happened?” he asked, you chuckled from the other end of the line.

Despite being a business associate he sometimes saw around, he knew you very well. You were of similar nature, there was a fire within you that had been moulded by sorrow and loneliness. Much like him, you also had to grow up fast and he knew of the ways of this cruel world and what it could do to an innocent youngling.

He knew you well.

“I....um..” you licked your lips as he waited for an answer.

You didn’t quite know how to proceed. You were not the one asking for help, you were usually the one offering to help. You had built a business of your own in between dirty faced gangsters and independence was all you craved. You didn’t ask for help, not from a friend or a jewish gangster.

“Could you come get me?” your airy voice filled his ear as he stared at the mountain of paperwork in front of him.

It didn’t matter, nothing did when it came to you.

He had spent many nights trying to bury your sweet face into the depths of his mind. You were everything he envisioned his dreams to be. He had done deals with people around just for the possibility of running into you. You’d spent many nights in his office, trying to finalise a deal you were trying to make with the man but he’d thought of it to be more than that.

You were poised, way too beautiful to be in this line of business and fragile underneath the tough exterior of sarcasm and wit you had. He was old enough to know that women like you didn’t stay until midnight in another man’s work place just because they needed to get a job done.

He nodded his head while speaking, jotting down the address you told him with a shaky voice, the adrenaline was getting to you. He knew of the abandoned house, it was a place marked with death and sketchy business deals but he ignored the skipping of his heart at the thought that something bad might’ve happened to you. He just put on his coat and shouted at Ollie to get the car ready.

The trees swayed calmly at the touch of the gentle wind, the breeze was much more calmer than what it seemed due to the cloudy weather. You were still sitting on the entrance step of the house, the cold stone had become warmer with your body heat as you stared at the road, the source of the voice becoming more obvious with the passing minutes.

You recognised his car but stayed where you are. You were sitting on the steps like a child with fabric on your hands but you didn’t look like one. There was blood all over your body, your dress and coat were soaked in it as you eyed Alfie’s approaching figure.

His eyes were wide, the breeze didn’t affect him in the slightest while he walked towards your much smaller form. You didn’t smile at the familiar man like you used to but waited for him to process the image before him instead.

He looked over at you first, worry evident in his eyes as his eyes adjusted to the layers of blood around your body. He opened his mouth to speak but his eyes landed on the three corpses scattered around the house instead. He could make out the things that had taken place but he didn’t want to ask you when you looked like you had been cast in a horror movie just a second ago.

“Pet, Are you alri-” he spoke but you stood up instead and cut him off. You needed to get home as soon as you could and you didn’t want the man to dote on you like he always did.

“I’m fine. Can we go?” you asked, not waiting for an answer and walking towards the car instead.

The driver was horrified which made you smile for the first time that day. Alfie caught you by your arm and made you face him in one swift motion before you could actually walk away. You scoffed at the action but he had the right to be curious. You were looking like a dead bride after all.

“What the fuck happened!” he asked, voice high as he looked at you with way too much focus. You chuckled, why was he so worried?

He knew what you were capable of, he’d seen you working on field before and that was enough reason for him to oblige to your words instead of questioning you but seeing as he was the rescuer in this situation, you decided to play along.

You gave him a shrug, like you hadn’t just killed the men laying out on the field and that you weren’t covered in their blood and yours. He could tell you were wounded so he supported you with his arms around.

“I just...” you spoke, not wanting to admit the little fun you had to yourself.

“A man was messing with me and I decided to show him the cost of doing that..” you spoke against his face, he was staring at your blooded face as you spoke. You let his arms around you, your figure almost engulfed by his as he stared at you.

“It’s okay now. I will have the men collected in an hour. I’ve already made calls.” you whispered, trying to answer any questions that he may have. He didn’t speak, just stared at you in shock and in admiration.

You were covered in blood but your eyes had the same childish tint to them. He hated how weak you made him feel, the only person he went out of his way to help had been a family member and now that he was cradling you in his arms, he found himself caring a little too much about you.

“Luv, Are you su-” he spoke again, you cut him off. You two bickered like a married couple.

“I’m okay. Just take me home so I can clean the wounds.” you spoke, retrieving from his arms and walking to his car again.

He mumbled a low ‘fucking hell’ while watching you lay the fabric on the car so that the blood didn’t get on the surface of the seats. You were on your usual behaviour as he watched you make yourself comfortable on the seat, still covered in blood which made his heart ache but he just told the driver to drive to your house.

His driver knew the address.

When you arrived at the house, your house maids were already freaking out. They knew something horrid had happened when you came in with a loud thud, blood covering your face. After the first few steps, you couldn’t carry your body anymore so Alfie picked you up and carried you to the bathroom.

You murmured a small ‘thank you’ at your low state and he found it hard to leave you until one of the maids came in the bathroom and chased him off with familiar words as she shouted at him in Yiddish.

An hour passed. Alfie had come to your house a couple times for tea and some company so he knew the boys around. They kept him occupied as you cleaned up, the wounds were attended to and you were soon put in a silk gown and comfortable shoes. Walking downstairs with the help of your maid, you saw his car parked out in the front.

He was still here.

You chuckled, finding it a little painful but his smile made it worth it when he stood up from the sofa he was sitting on. There were biscuits and tea on the small table next to the sofa and you could tell he hadn’t touched them.

You let the maid go as he helped you sit down. You usually hated being babied, needing help from others to do normal things had been something you dreaded for as long as you could remember but you didn’t find it all so painful when his rough skin met yours.

Settling next to him on the large sofa, you looked into his eyes. There was still a hint of fear in his eyes and it made you smile out of the tenderness he was capable of making you feel. You hugged yourself as he watched your small form become even smaller.

“You were scared.” you spoke, as a matter of fact. He wasn’t hiding it and that made you like him even more than you already did.

He chuckled at your words, hands meting over his torso as he watched you put your head on the back of the sofa. “I fuckin’ was, yeah, ‘thought you were a goner, luv.” he spoke, making you smile but you didn’t chuckle as heartily as you would’ve.

You nodded, speaking with a breathy voice as he looked at your eyes like a small kid looked at candy.

“Mariam chased you off?” you said, erupting a sound of approval from his mouth while he watched you reach for a cookie but he helped you the last minute, reaching for the food himself before you could and handed it to you.

“She spits fuckin’ fire, ya know that?” he said, still surprised at the screaming the maid had just done in Yiddish. He knew you were fond of the jews around and a part of him grew softer at the thought of you making sure they had a roof over their head.

“Well, she’s a bit protective when it comes to me.” you said, putting your head back on the sofa as he nodded.

“Can’t fuckin’ blame her, right.” he said, reaching for his beard as you watched him touch the wiry part. “fuckin’ rare, a jewel like you.”

The parts of your face that had been covered in blood an hour ago were now covered in a natural blush color as he looked at you lovingly. He didn’t hide the fact that he was attracted to you, he had made advances from day one but you were hesitant because he seemed too dreamy, a little to unreal for this cruel world you were living in.

“I don’t know about a jewel but I heard they’ve been calling me a damsel in distress.” you said, chuckling at the last words as you spoke. His eyes shot up with anger at your words but you remained as calm as a bird.

“Who the fuc-” he spoke, voice a little too loud as he tried to find out more information about the said people but you knew better than to give the names to him. They would disappear a day after you would tell him and you’d have to watch him act all daft again.

You put your hand on his knee with a soft smile on your lips. There was always word going around about you. You were a woman many lusted after and knowing you hadn’t settled yet, jealous mouths had to make something out of it. You didn’t mind, you were unmarried and a little stressed so it was nothing of a lie, really.

You enjoyed the fire residing in his eyes while he watched your lips move. “I am a damsel..” you nodded and before he could cut you off with a reassuring tone that you were far from that, you continued.

“But I’m not a damsel in distress. I’m a damsel doing damage.”

You spoke while his eyes casted an all too familiar look. His face was closer to yours now, you could feel his warmth radiating towards your body. You inched closer, moving your body a little towards him so that your eyelashes were almost touching. You stared at him, a hint of smile on his lips as he reacted to your previous words.

Oh, how he adored you.

He had done way too many awful things, killed far too many souls and had done considerable damage to the good in this world so he wondered. He wondered why you’d treat him the way you did. You were a source of sunlight in this mess of a place you both worked in and the kindness made him inherently curious as to why you did it.

He knew there was a price for having you, that had been why he was so hesitant even though he wouldn’t shy away from how he felt. There was a price to pay if he wanted you around like he did but he was ready to pay it, whatever it was.

You chuckled as he looked into your eyes, more than a few emotions swimming in his blue orbs when your hand found his chest, he was incredibly close now. You didn’t hesitate, it was you thanking him in the best way possible and he welcomed it when he felt your velvet lips against his.

You leaned closer, his hands found your leg as he caressed it. It wasn’t a heated kiss, it felt tender and loving while you moved your lips against his. The kiss was slow, it made you feel safe and secure until you broke it.

Panting slowly as you moved a little far from his face, he cursed at himself for being so weak at the sight before him. He stared at your now plump lips, licking his to savour the sweet taste of you while you let him go, your hand now hugging your body.

A sweet smile formed along the lines of your lips, your voice breathy as you spoke to the man sitting next to you.

“Thank you, Alfie.”

Tagging: @clairecrive @parkbearum @sourirez @bicevans @mollybegger-blog

a/n: My finals are on their way and I will be a little less active on here just so you guys know! I still have a couple works on queue but school is kicking my ass so i may not return as soon as i please. also lemme know if you’d like to be tagged.

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scenics · 4 years ago

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any tips on how to color ???

Learning how to improve your coloring process takes time, and it takes making some mistakes. I have improved a lot over the past few years and only because I have made some questionable editing mistakes in the past (I just always make sure to never make them again). Under the cut are all the tips I could think of :)

Gifs can only be 256 colors. When you’re coloring a gif, you’re basically trying to reduce the amount of colors in a scene so your gif doesn’t lose quality when exporting. A gif can never actually represent the true colors of a scene.

I know this is obvious, but every single gif needs some sort of color modification / editing for it to look better.

My most important tip is to learn the very basics of color theory. It changes how you color dramatically and you can understand how color functions within a gif. Learn about the color wheel, primary/secondary/tertiary colors, complementary colors, and cool/warm colors. Afterwards, I also suggest looking up basic paint mixing videos where someone shows you how colors are mixed together or made darker/lighter (even better if you’ve had personal experience with mixing paint). Personally, I approach coloring gifs like I would my paint canvas in real life—when I color a scene I’m essentially “painting” over it with the adjustment tools in photoshop.

And building on the previous concepts of color theory, do not attempt to turn the original scene from red to green, blue to orange, yellow to purple, etc. It looks horrible because those are complementary colors; they are the absolute opposite of each other and mixing them makes a very muddy brown color. Instead, warm colors can easily be turned into other warm colors, and same goes for cool colors.

Reducing contrasting / clashing colors in gifs can improve the color of your gif drastically when exporting.

In gifs, red, blue, and green are the worst colors to edit because they’re the most likely to break up within a gif. These colors also break down the fastest as a gif ages.

I don’t know who said this to kpop gifmakers years ago, but please don’t be afraid to use the curves, exposure, brightness/contrast, and levels adjustment layers. Using those layers can actually help you improve the quality of your gifs drastically and make your gifs actually pop out on the dash. If you’re afraid of whitewashing someone, that can always be fixed later on by learning to adjust those layers and various others.

For kpop editing specifically, please know that Asians are not straight up canary yellow, bright orange, or tomato red. Asians do not have the same universal skin tone/color—Asia is comprised of thousands of ethnic groups which means we also have tons of variations in skin tone. Basically, Asians aren’t yellow. All the members of a single idol group do not have the same complexion, and much less to say the whole Korean music industry. In terms of color mixing for editing, Asians are a mixture of yellow, red, orange, white, and a very minimal amount of a cool color depending on undertone.

I highly suggest learning about how lighting works in a gif. Always question where the light in a gif is coming from—is it from the side, the front, the back, the top? I often see editors try to reduce contrast completely or make someone completely yellow/orange/red/brown in an effort to reduce whiteness/lightness on one side of the face. Differences in lighting are completely natural and one side of the face being lighter than other is just how lighting works.

Personally, I always color to enhance a gif. I’m always trying to reduce the gray layer/cast on scenes that occurs from compression (but sometimes that’s also unavoidable because of the grain or quality). I try not to over-edit most of the time but that’s also personal preference and everyone has a distinctive style. When I make a gif, I want it to age well although that may seem impossible.

Making the blacks blacker and whites whiter increases contrast in a gif. It makes your gifs pop and stand out.

Be careful with the use of vibrance/saturation/hue. Those can easily reduce the quality of your gif. The most important layers for coloring gifs (in general) are selective color, levels, and color balance.

The higher quality a file particularly is, the easier it is to manipulate colors for editing. Those gifs are less likely to break up and can withstand more coloring than the average gif. Basically, the more layers you add to a gif, the heavier it’ll be to export—so a reduction in quality. I find that gifs with tons of layers end up looking “sticky.”

In my opinion, the best editors on here are those who always color from scratch. They’re more flexible in how they color and actually know how to color a wider variety of content no matter what. PSDs are very nice and easy to use once you’ve developed them, but you also get stuck in a rhythm and forget how to color from the very beginning. An editor can become inflexible with the use of the same PSD.

I highly suggest checking your gifs on mobile. Gifs in general look very similar on desktop, but on mobile it’s a completely different story. Load your gifs into Tumblr’s photo uploader then publish them on a separate sideblog. Then, with your brightness turned up all the way, look at your gif on mobile and zoom into it. You’ll be able to see how the gif has been compressed, how the coloring has changed, if there’s any “breakage” in the gif. Then you can slowly modify your editing process to also look good on mobile. For me, my editing has improved a lot since I started making my gifs primarily for mobile—how gifs look on desktop do not really matter to me anymore.

Exporting gifs: I suggest checking what diffusion vs pattern looks like on mobile. Pattern has some little difference with diffusion in the desktop browser (sometimes you have to look closely to tell the difference on desktop), but on mobile there’s a huge difference. Gifs exported in pattern in general look very old and worn on mobile, especially with yellow/orange hues. Pattern on mobile can make a 2160p Blu-ray remux file look like it was originally a 1080p 2 GB compressed file—it essentially adds a worn surface to a gif that makes it look like it was made in 2017 not 2021 (completely refutes the need to download a HQ file in the first place).

Saving in pattern: If you’re giffing from a Vapoursynth processed file, please do not save the gif in pattern. Vapoursynth makes gifs very smooth and diffusion works best with smooth, grainless gifs. The pattern export sits on top of a Vapoursynth gif like a dirty mosquito net. In general, pattern is best when you have two dominant complementary colors in a gif that are directly clashing with each other in movement OR gradient scenes with lots of shifts in hue and movement. Pattern can help hide the breakage of color within those gifs due to the excess movement of color. Also, I think pattern works best with animation, especially figured with black outlines or scenes with tons of color (those look least worn on mobile).

#asks

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milstrim · 4 years ago

Text

By the Light of Your Love

Day 27: Power Outage

"You really didn't have to come over, Mr. Stark."

"Are you trying to get rid of me, kid? 'Cause it's not working," Mr. Stark replied snarkily, ripping open another box that was haphazardly filled with stuff. She peeked up behind the last of the boxes she was carrying inside to spy a bunch of her old dolls and action figures. Oh no. Smiling viciously, Mr. Stark pulled out a beat up and very obviously loved Iron Man action figure Ben had gotten her.

Penny blushed, trying to ignore him as she walked away, placing the tipping boxes on the old table she'd lugged upstairs earlier with Mr. Stark's help (just to make it look less suspicious). Mr. Stark was, as usual, relentless, coming up behind her and poking her cheek with the action figure.

"Come on, kiddo. Iron Man needs your help!" he said in an overly cartoonish voice.

She stuck her tongue out at him, moving to snatch the action figure back, but she let him clutch the action figure to his chest instead of taking it. Mercy was a more redeeming trait of hers. Sarcasm, however, was not, "Ha ha ha. Really funny, you should fund an Iron Man TV show, you might be able to land a part."

Mr. Stark switched to a girlishly high voice, "I might try out for the role of Spider-Woman."

"I do not--"

Penny's grinned protest was drowned out by another roll of thunder, and she felt a shiver run down her spine as a burst of rain and hail plundered against the window. The two turned to look at the window, and she grimaced a little, hoping the new apartment's windows would hold up.

It was supposed to be to be the worst storm of the year, the talk of the town (well, city) for nearly two weeks that had caused canned goods to sell out in stores and school to end early yesterday. So of course it had landed on moving day. May had tried to reschedule until after the storm passed, but their old landlord had said very plainly that they had to leave the property at their scheduled time. It made moving slightly more dangerous than usual, but Penny had planned on making a day of it, especially when Mr. Stark had volunteered to drive their boxes over while May finished up her shift.

She and her mentor had barely managed to get all of the boxes in the building before the storm had begun thundering down, which, as advised, meant they shouldn't go back outside. Technically, she guessed Mr. Stark could call the Iron Man suit and leave whenever, but she still felt kinda bad for trapping him here, where there wasn't even food in the fridge yet. And the air conditioning hadn't been turned on for them. It was a good thing she was wearing her Midtown Sweatshirt over a long sleeved shirt over a tank top. It meant she was a little warmer.

As if reading her thoughts, Mr. Stark rubbed his hands together, breathing into them in exaggeration and walking away, "D'you know where the A/C is? It looks like we're going to be here for a while and I'd rather--"

And then the power went out.

Penny made a noise of surprise, blinking as she tried to adjust to the light, and rushing toward the window. Where moments before she'd seen bright yellow and oranges from her new neighbors, there was now nothing but complete darkness. Was there a moon tonight? Definitely no stars. Still, Penny somehow managed to make out the room as though the sun had only just set. Huh, her powers surprised her a little more each day.

"Penny? Are you alright?" Mr. Stark called, and she remembered that he probably couldn't see her at all.

"I'm right here, Mr. Stark!" she called back, beginning to make her way over to a nearby box, "I was just checking the window. I think all of Queens doesn't have power right now, sir."

"Shush it with the 'sirs,'" he ordered, and she listened as he began walking blindly through the dark, barely holding back a laugh as he stubbed his toe, swearing loudly, "Where's your phone? Where's my phone?"

"Aww, that's lame, Mr. Stark. Phone flashlights would ruin the mood."

"Mood. What mood? My mood is I'm cold."

A crack! echoed through the air as Penny broke a green glowstick, shaking it around wildly until it glowed in her hand. She tossed it to her mentor, who caught it sloppily in the dark as she turned to grab another one, "The spooky mood, Mr. Stark."

"It's not Halloween."

"It should be."

"It was literally just Halloween."

"And I already ate all my candy," Penny argued, and she watched Mr. Stark roll his eyes as she broke two more glowsticks, handing another one for him, "Here. For your weak eyes."

"Shut up. You'll be old one day, too."

"And I'll still have better eyesight than you in your twenties."

"Whatever, weirdo," he teased, "When's May getting back?"

"Uhh, I kinda forgot honestly. Do you think she'll be able to get here through the storm?"

"Hold up, let's call her. Now do you mind passing me my phone?"

Penny rolled her eyes, jumping across the room to snatch it from the couch and passing it back to him. Her mentor immediately dialed May, but it went to voicemail. He tried a couple more times before shrugging.

"No luck," he concluded, and she hummed. Suddenly his voice changed, going theatrically serious, "Alright, now it's time to get down. Do we have the bare essentials to survive this dangerous night."

"No."

"You're supposed to play along."

"Between us we have a box of cookies, two Gatorades, and a lot of useless shit. Also, only one of us can survive the cold."

"You're such a downer."

"No, you," she countered, and he rolled his eyes playfully.

"Just go find those blankets. I'll grab the food, and we're keeping you warm. My signal's completely trashed right now, so we're gonna have to rough it out until this storm passes."

"But that could be foreverrrrr!"

"Well, you better go find those blankets then."

She shot him a dirty look, but did as told, searching through boxes until she found the one with all of their blankets in it. She heard Mr. Stark fumbling around for the food and drinks, eventually making his way to the couch pressed up against the wall.

Penny bounced over with the box of blankets, dumping them out on the unsuspecting man, who spluttered in surprise and annoyance as blanket after blanket flopped onto his head before unraveling over him. He glared up at her as he tore the blankets off of his face, scrunching up his nose and sticking out his tongue.

"Brat. I guess I all the blankets are mine now."

She gasped dramatically, flopping down on top of him, "You're just going to let me die, Mr. Stark? We're already low on rations and I don't even get a--"

"Okay, okay! Take your damn blanket. Here, you get the scratchy one."

"No! Ewww! I don't like this one."

He sighed dramatically, "Well, I guess you can share this super nice one with me, but only if you promise to be nice."

"Fine," she said, sitting up and resting her head on his shoulder instead. She took the glowsticks and placed them in their laps, throwing a large blanket over them so that they were trapped with the multicolored lights, "So, what're we gonna do?"

"Uhhhhh--"

"Ooo how about Rock, Paper, Scissors."

"Sure, kid."

They played two hundred twenty-three rounds of Rock, Paper, Scissors, and despite Penny's quick reflexes, Mr. Stark won a lot of them. Stupid damn ass strategist. Mr. Stark told her stories, some spooky ghost stories at her request, others about the Avengers or MIT. Sometimes his voice would get really quiet in the middle of a story, his eyes going a little haunted before he jostled himself back to the present and carried on with as much gusto as ever. That was usually when she'd squeeze his hand, or steal some more of the blanket from him, which they still shared despite the fact that there were other ones.

And who was really to say she fell asleep with her head against his knee that night? It would be pretty hard to tell with the thrumming of rain, the blankets that were mounted in a thick layer on top of her, and the only light being provided from a few dim glowsticks.

#Iron Man #spiderman #irondad #irondad fanfiction #female peter parker #whumptober2020 #fluff

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xmalereader · 5 years ago

Text

The Mandalorian X Male Reader

|| Masterlist ||

@deceasedxx

Requested: hi hi!! i saw that requests were open so,, how about the mandalorian x a handsome and chaotic male reader where the reader is a (really freaking good) pilot? i don't really have any ideas plot wise but i absolutely adore baby yoda so perhaps something involving the adorable space baby UwU. and maybe some nsfw if you're cool with that? thank you in advance!!

Warnings: Slight NSFW, flirting, baby yoda, chaos, arguing, space dads, husbands, language, jealousy.

“WOOHOO!!”

“For the love of kriff y/n, calm down!!”

The razor crest was in full speed as they were trying to escape the small fleet of guild hunters. The pilot was gripping the controllers and pressing random buttons at a quick speed. The Mandalorian was gripping his chair as his partner controlled the razor crest, the child that sat next to him was suddenly giggling and holding his small arms up, enjoying the sudden “ride”.

“Hold on!!” The pilot shouts, pulling the controllers back as the razor crest does a sharp 360, he quickly adjusts the weapons and target the three at the same time. “Bye bye.” He says as he shot down all three ships. “Yes!!” He fist bumps the air in victory. “Did you see that?! I saved us!”

Din had a hand over his heart as he breaths in panic. “You are never allowed to pilot the crest again.” His pilot only pouts with crossed arms before turning to see the small green bean kicking his legs around with joy and happiness. “At least the little one enjoyed it.” He removed himself from the pilots seat and allowed Din to take control now as y/n cooed at the child.

“Another day another credit.”

Here in the razor crest stood the legendary bounty hunter, accompanied by his one and only husband; y/n. The child was also with them since they have been raising him together as a proper family.

Din met y/n during a bounty hunt, he was a chaotic little bastard but that didn’t stop Din from liking him. He was one of the best pilots since he used to work for the resistance and had shot down many people before, at first Din didn’t like the fact of Y/n being an ex-resistant but somehow the other was able to seduce Din into liking him. The two would flirt with each other everyday, tossing lines back and forth or bad puns that y/n would randomly create.

They’ve been working together for years and during those years they started dating. The two really enjoyed each other’s companies and sometimes Din needed the chaotic male around to cheer him up. It was four years ago when the two got married, y/n had to learn the Mandalorian culture and how they worked things out when it came to marriage. So, in the end y/n received a baskar ring that fit him perfectly but instead of wearing it on his finger he decided to wear it as a necklace, keeping it safer.

It was also the day that Din revealed his face to y/n, the Mandalorian culture allowed him to reveal their face to their future spouse and only to them, no one else unless they decide to quit the bounty hunting life and settle down without any trouble. But that didn’t stop Din from continuing his bounty hunts which y/n gladly joined.

Now with the with married they became stronger and with the child in their care they became a family.

——

“How’s my little green bean doing, eh?” Y/n carried the child around the razor crest. He was organizing the kids bed, getting him ready for his nap. It usually took Din ten minutes to put the kid to sleep but with y/n the child would fall asleep instantly ( which Din was jealous of ).

The child cooed, his ears lowering down slowly as he watched his guardian hum, fixing up the small bed with some extra blankets.

“There we go, it’s all done and made let’s just hope that your comfortable enough to sleep.” The other bends down to pick up the kid, who clings onto him in an instant. This causes y/n to giggle, “Time for your nap, you need your energy.” He whispered, gently stroking his large ears which caused the child to coo in delight as he slowly began to doze off, it only took a few seconds before the kid was out cold.

Y/n smiles and closed the door. “So that’s your secret?” He gasps in surprise, turning around to see Din leaning against the wall with crossed arms. “It’s easy, stroking his ears is kind of like having someone play with your hair until you fall asleep.” He grins, walking over to his own husband he placed both hands on either side of the baskar helmet and slowly lifts it up. Back then Din would stop him from removing his helmet but since they are married it wasn’t much of a problem anymore.

Once the helmet was removed and placed down. The other couldn’t stop himself from smiling at Din, “See? Handsome as ever.” He moved his hand to brush back Din’s semi long hair, leaning in to place a kiss on the corner of his lips. “Aren’t you the better looking one?” Din flirts out with a smirk. Y/n chuckled, “Nah, your the better looking one.” He bites his lip, his fingers tapping against the beskar chest plate. “I’m gonna wash up, don’t wake up the kid.” He warns out before pecking him on the lips and pulling away from the Mandalorian.

Din frowns. “Your just gonna leave me like this?” He reaches out to grab his husbands wrist and pulls him back, the other squeaks in surprise as he’s pushed against the razor crest wall, Din presses up against him. The two were chest to chest as y/n whines, “let me wash up first.” He suddenly has his arms wrapped around Dins neck. “In order to wash up you have to be dirty and from the looks of it, you aren’t dirty at all.” He whispered to him as the two press their foreheads together. Y/n bites his lip and smirks evilly, grinding his hips up against him as his arms tighten around his shoulders. “You gonna get me dirty?” He says in a teasing tone which only riled up the Mandalorian. “Kriff.” He pulls y/n towards their own bed, causing the other to giggle in delight as he’s forced down in the bed.

Y/n bites his lip seductively and spreads his legs open, wrapping them around Din’s waist as he watched the mandalorian remove his own baskar armor. “Any day now.”

“Shut up.” Din says through gritted teeth as he works fast. The two laugh together, y/n lies his head back and kicks off his shoes. “I remember when we first had sex, it was right after our ceremony you were pretty impatient.”

“Well when your husband looks that good on your wedding night than you wouldn’t done the same thing.” He was bare in front of Y/n, smirking at him he leans down to capture his lips into a deep kiss, causing the other to moan deeply. “to many layers.” He finally says, getting the other to sit up and undress as well. The two spent the night in each other’s embrace, the razor crest was filled with moans and groans. They were glad that they had sound proof walls inside the kids room or else they would get busted and probably scar the kid to death.

Din was enjoying the sounds that his husband was making, leaning close to his ear as he lets out breathy moans, feelin the other thrust down against him. His hips moving up and down. Gripping his arms and tightening his legs around Din’s waist. “Din—“ he leans his head back only to feel a pair of lips against his neck, giggling softly he leads his hand down to cup his husbands cheek. “Your stubble is tickling me.”

“Would you rather it have it tickling your neck or between your legs?”

Y/n blushes at the comment before biting his lip. “Either works for me.” He gasps out as he felt him hit his sentisve spot. “Found it.” Din grins down at him, he fixes his postion and sat up with Y/n’s legs on either side of his hips. “Relax...” he reaches out to stroke his husbands member, Y/n gasps between whines and whimpered as his legs shook. “Just move—!”

It didnt take Din long enough for him to thrust his hips forward, hitting his partners senstive spot over and over again. Only to get loud moans in return, he gripped the bed sheets with his hands and would bite into the pillow as the two fucked like animals. “I’m close—!” Y/n shouts out as Din slowly nods and grips his hips, pulling him in deeper before giving one last hard thrust and releasing his load.

The two were a dirty mess and panting heavily, the room was warm for them and it smelled of sex. “that was better than this morning.” Said Y/n, earning a scoff and an eye roll from Din. “Shut up you enjoy it all the time.” He replied back and lied down next ot his lover, pulling him close by the waist and planting a kiss on his neck and shoulder. The two remained in bed together for the rest of the flight to their new destination.

—

“Sorgan? Seriously?”

“Got any better places to go?”

The razor crest had landed in the deep Forest of Sorgan, it was a nice and peaceful planet and pretty big than any other planet. “You two stay here while I go get some lodging and I mean it Y/n, stay.” He hands the child ot his partner. The child and pilot watched the mandalorian leave the cockpit with them behind. “You hear that? Did he say to follow him?” Said Y/n, smirking down at the child. Din should know y/n well enough to know that he was going out follow him either way.

Y/n and the kid stood next to Din as the ramp opens. He glanced at the two and sighs deeply. “What the hell, lets go.” This earns Y/n a victory high five from the small child. The three of them made their way around the planet, finding a place to stop by and eat and meet a so-called new friend that Din had suddenly made, he watched the two wrestle themselves to the ground. Y/n could only lean against one of the huts as he cleans his goggles, he watched as the two point their blasters at each other only to have the kid interrupt them with his own slurping. “You done?”

Din sighs and lets his head drop and says, “You want to some soup?” Y/n rolls his eyes and picks up the child and heads back inside to properly eat his own food this time without anyone running away.

—

“I don’t like her.”

“Who? Cara?”

“No, her.”

Din sees him gestured towards the door way, where Omera had walked out. “She’s just being nice, no need to be jealous.” He moves to sit down by the window, pulling the tray of food towards himself as he removes his helmet. “I’m not jealous.” He mumbled out in a childish way which only the mandalorian found adorable in some odd weird way. “Just eat, we came to help and then after that will leave to a different planet.”

“You planned to stay longer.” Y/n sits acrosss from him and grabs his loaf of bread and stuffs it into his mouth, holding back his pouts. “It’ll go by fast, you won’t even notice.” He addds, Eating his own food as he watched his own husband. “I know what you are thinking.” The pilot continued to stuff his face with food, avoiding himself from speaking to Din. “You think she’s going to do something that’ll tick you off.” He leans back in his seat and looks out the window to see their own kid playing with the other children. He noticed how Omera was easily bonding with the kid, “She’s good with kids and is kind too.”

Y/n closed his eyes, his nostrils flare in anger but he tries his best to hide it from Din, grabbing his cup of water and swallowing it all down in one go. “But she’s nothing like you.” The pilot nearly chokes on his water, clearing his throat as he swallows down everything. “W-what?’ He chokes out.

Din chuckled at his reaction. “I married you because I love you not because of your looks or anything, your personality is a big chaotic but I sometimes enjoy it and your very good with the kid, he seems to like you more than me when I saved him in the end.” He sets down his own cup. “We made an oath to always stick together and to love each other forever, I mean you stil wear your ring right?”

Y/n looks down at his lap shyly as he slips his fingers under his collar shirt, pulling out a silver band that held his ring. Din only smiles, leaning close he uses his thumb and index finger to lift up his head by the chin. Y/n avoids his his brown eyes, “Look at me.” He hears Din say, sighing in defeat he makes eye contact only to see Din smile and learn forward to kiss him passionalty. “I love you.” He breaths out.

Y/n slowly smiles, “I love you too.” He says back as the two chuckle happily.

#the mandalorian spoilers #the mandalorain #din jarren #din djarin x male reader #din djarin #male reader #stars wars #star wars x male reader

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