#the seats are so deep my Entire Huge Body fits on a cushion. legs and all. comfortably

[27treks]

planned to spend 350 on a temp sofa until we move. went to a store that's shutting down literally as they were putting these sectional pieces out on the floor. we nabbed a whole sectional for 85 after tax. the whole day cost just under 250 for sofa, uhaul, new rug, liquor restock, and a fancy dinner..... what a good weekend it was yall

[jonah-aesthetic]

Jingle Bells I Daniel Seavey

Daniel X Reader 

Plot:  Your best friend since childhood takes you on a sleigh ride. one you’ve only mentioned once to him. With the entire Christmas vibe he brings to life it’s hard for you to keep your feelings at bay for him.

Word count: 2.9k

Author’s Note: unedited I feel like this piece flopped for me. I didn’t want it too long, but it also dragged on a little. Yet I didn’t think I put enough detail in this one. 

Rating: 16+ (I’m 20 so I’d like my readers to be some what around there.)

MoodBoard

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Your vision was blocked by a folded bandanna tied around your head with a secured knot or two. Hand tightly locked with Daniel’s, feeling his thumb rub a top yours for comfort. Snow crunched under your Dr. Martens with ease, slightly soft from the snow fall a few days prior. Slow steps as He guided you keeping your location a surprise.

 Your senses felt heightened with your eyes looking into the dark oblivion. The vague bitter smell of horse manure and the rather oddly pleasant hay scent Reached your nose. You wouldn’t have noticed it before, almost feeling like a damn blood hound. Yet it gave a hint on where he was taking you. 

Two hours previous he woke you up, you’re nothing close to a morning person. So you cussed his ass out of your apartment so you could enjoy the fantasy dreams about him. Ones you could never endure in reality, Daniel’s your best friend who you were insufferably in love with. 

Yet he came again, using the spare you forgot you gave him. But this time he came bearing an Eggnog Latte and gingerbread cookie. Slaying the ferocious dragon into silence, the way he always knew how.  The caffeine and baked good keeping you at bay as he told you he at the day planned for the both of you. Although it was a surprise, all he said was dress appropriate for the chilly winter weather and grab a blanket. 

Analyzing everything in your head for a quick second. You realized he was bringing you on that sleigh ride you mentioned once before. Thinking it’d be fun to do during the winter months, you didn’t think he’d actually book an entire day for it. Making it a big thing, you wish he didn’t. Cause it only made butterflies flutter, tempting you to wreck your friendship. 

“Watch your step..” Daniel’s voice is more projected against the snow over ground. Heart slamming upon your rib cage and you swear you can hear it.

“Actually just bend your knees, It’s a stairwell and I’d rather not risk you eating shit. Or breaking a nose in the winter.” At his words you probably figured they were slippery or he didn’t trust you not to slip, you were no doubt clumsy as Bambi, and the man knew it. 

Bending your knees a little, which you curious on why he asked you in the first place. Yet you trusted him with your life, there’s no going back on years of friendship now Seavey. his arms scooped you under your legs and against your back. Bringing you closer to his chest, the motion fast and unexpected as you let of a small whimper. Daniel groaned as he hopped getting a more sturdy hold on you. 

“God you’re heavy.” He breathes, the air from his lungs hitting your cheeks. 

“Then put me down Asshole.” You scold him, slapping his chest, feeling a deep chuckle rumble within. 

“I was joking, you’re not heavy, you’re fine. It was a bad joke anyways. Now hold on I might drop you.” 

“Daniel That’ll be the last thing you’ll do before you end up in hell.” You threaten playfully. You instantly wrapped your arms around his neck after feeling him climb up the stairs. It was a small rocking motion almost like you were on a ride especially with the blindfold on. 

“Was that a death threat?” 

“If you drop me, yes, yes it is.” 

Gasping you felt Daniel fake drop you, it was a slower motion that you thought it would be to actually drop you. Nonetheless it still scared you, clawing on tighter to him. Whitening your knuckles as angry wasps scattered in your stomach. 

“I hate you, I hate you, I have you Seavey.” You yelled still preparing for the fall the would never come. 

Again you could feel the glorious deep chuckle of his erupt from his chest. Vibrating against you, turning angry wasps into love-sick butterflies. “We’re hear anyways.” 

“Than you can put me down and take this damn blindfold off.” You speak trying to reach for it. Daniel’s hand caught your wrist like a reflex. “Not yet, just a few more minutes.”

Opening a door and being engulfed my warmed, you shivered from the drastic temperature change. Bells rang above warning the receptionist that customers have arrived. It was around an hour, or what felt like an hour to you later. Of going over everything for the surprise, from the time to the pricing. Which you weren’t to happy about, yet after all of it nobody confirmed your theory. You knew what it was, but you wanted it to be heard. Though nothing about it was said. 

Nada. Zilp. Zitch. Nothing. Not even a damn crumb. 

Going from warm to cold wasn't as drastic of a change. Daniel still held you bridal style, scared you eat shit. Which you most likely would have, if he let you climb down the steps. You felt very natural in his arms anyways, like to pieces of a puzzle. 

Daniel began to lower you softly letting you go before your feet were on the ground again. Silently thanking him for being on your two feet again. His presence coming behind you, raising his fingers to the knots and began to pick at them. 

“Are you ready?” 

Yes I’ve been waiting all damn day for this. Take it off Seavey.” Hearing him chuckle behind a smile spread across your face. Feeling the bandanna drop, hands flying to your mouth as you gasped. You knew it, yet you were still shocked by the sight of it. 

In front of you was bright red sleigh with gold detailing all around it. Had a massive resemblance to the famous Santa Klaus one. instead of nine reindeer, a beautiful black Clydesdale stood in their place.  On of the bands resting upon his butt had a line of huge bells. Ringing every time he moved, bringing the whole Christmas vibe alive. 

whirling around gazing at him a gentle smile rested on his lips. His blonde hair half tucked under a black beaning. Light stubble dancing along his jaw, making him look older. His icy blue eyes watching you, fighting the urge to tell him you wanted him. Maybe he knew it already, that’s why he took you here, and maybe he didn’t.

“You didn’t have to.” You said shaking your head, 

“I know, I wanted to, I had the money for it.” He shrugged stuffing his hands into his pockets. Why couldn’t Daniel be less attractive! it wasn’t fair. perfect silence emerged over both of you, genuine smiles with adoration for one another hidden behind your eyes. 

“If you Two love birds are ready, I love to show you what this gorgeous winter has to offer.” The Driver spoke, sitting upon the front seat that was two or three feet higher then the main seats in the center of the sleigh. 

With giddy giggles Daniel escorted you towards it, his hand resting on the smallest part of your back. Maybe it was your mind playing tricks on you, but you swear you could’ve felt his hand reach and squeeze your hip. 

Sitting down it was a tight and cozy fit, the bench and the back rest was cushioned with a black leather material. Smooth to the touch and soft as ever, with a clicker of the chauffeur’s tongue, the sleigh bolted to life, cause you and Daniel to fall back into each other. Soon enough the jingle bells rhythm came into ear shot. Making this whole experience feel like you woke up in a fucking Christmas. Unbelievable real.

“Are you okay?” Daniel’s laugh fans your cheeks as he helps you to sit up right. 

“Never better.” You say with an undying happiness you possessed inside. Not feeling the way the cold nipped at your nose making you look like and off brand Rudolph. 

“Here.” He speaks as you watch him unfold a black blanket, a little dumbfound, the thing was massive and surprised you hadn't noticed it before. Handing you one of the corners of the blanket, and instantly wrapped it around you as Daniel did the same. Pulling you two closer together, trying to engulf your body in it as much as you. 

“Thanks” you whisper under your breathe, watching it form into an icy cloud. Glancing at the gold letters embroidered into the corner of the blanket tight. it was a gift from Daniel’s mother giving to you on the day you both graduated. Remembering the words she said to you like it was yesterday. 

“You know I wasn't to ecstatic about new neighbors moving in. But as soon as I saw this sweet little girl playing with my boy. I was glad that your parents’ pick the that house. I Watched you two laughing and giggling in the yards, I just knew you two would be in separable. It’s a shame that boy of mind doesn't see the love that you have for him...”

It shocked you to know that she knew that you were in love with him. You covered your tracks pretty well back then. Controlling yourself around him was child’s play compared to now. She never interfered with the way you felt about him, You were grateful at the time. Now not so much, but it could’ve wrecked the friendship you had-

“Y/N look.” Daniel’s voice cut your thoughts short, His attention of the right. You follow his gaze, spotting nine caribou in scattered in the woods. Or rather nine reindeer, you guessed they weren’t replaced after all. You could feel the sleigh come to a gentle stop, the jingle bells’ song vanished into the air. 

“Oh shit! Reindeer.” No filter with pure shock, 

Curiously watching them from a far, you admired each and every one. Noticing a chunky bell lacing around their necks, like they were Santa's famous reindeer's’ out of the movies. 

“And watch this.” He speaks glancing up at the driver, as if on cue he places his fingers in mouth and releases a high pitch whistle. “Keep an eye out for him,” 

“Keep an out of who?-” 

A  reindeer further into the forest walks towards us, elegant and gentle. Stalking through the snow as if he held pride, significantly larger than all the other reindeer, he must of been the alpha, the leader. 

Amazed at the whole thing you couldn't think of words to say and if you manged something. It’d definitely come out as word vomit. Reaching closer and closer to the sleigh you could her the bell jingle against his chest. Black scribble appeared on the red ribbon clasped around his neck. Soon being able to read the name ‘Rudolph’  on both side on his throat. 

“Isn’t he beautiful?” Daniel asks looking back at you expecting you to say words you couldn’t fathom at the moment. You gulped and nodded your head vigorously. He was more then beautiful he was stunningly gorgeous and massive. You’ve never seen a wild animal in person not to mention this close to one. 

Daniel held a chuckle at your reaction to this entire encounter with Rudolph. Finding your dumbfound shock, adorably cute. In moments like these he dreaded the knowledge of being your best friend and not your boyfriend. Where he could just grab the back of your neck and smash his lips hungrily to yours. 

The adrenaline high was retreating in your veins, causing your mind to process again. The cage of anxiety breaking open as the glance of Daniel’s ocean eyes calmed you down.  

He’s fucking perfect. Look at those dopy eyes, various shades of blues swirled inside them. causing your heart to melt into the bottom of your stomach. All thoughts of common sense started to leave, glancing at his lips. looking pink and soft as ever, god they must taste like heaven, or at least the closest thing to it. 

Best friend. Best friend. Best friend. 

Looking forward you could’ve swore you breathed the same air as Rudolph. Still he was more beautiful up close. White creamy chest that reached to his legs, chocolate brown body. adorable nose that had the softest resemblance to a cow. Antlers sprouting from a top his head, developing towards the sky. A small white box was tethered to his left antler by a black ribbon. Throwing your best friend a suspicious glance, he nodded letting you reach for it.

Clasping the velvet box in your hand, feeling your heart pound repeatedly. Breath caught, anxious of what’s in the box. Feeling your gut tell you this was it and whatever this box contained was going to change everything. Distracting yourself you focused on Rudolph, seeing the way he looked at you. As if he knew what it was somehow. 

taking your glove off with your teeth you reached for him, pausing three inches before his nose. If you learned anything from Draco’s encounter with Buckbeck, was to be patient and let the animal come to you. Although at the end of the day it was just a fucking movie. 

Warmth exploded from your palm to your elbow, smiling you trailed your hand to rest under his chin. His fur softer than you were expecting it to be, yet you didn’t know what you were expecting. “Thank you Rudolph.” You whisper to him soon retracting your hand. Backing away he retreated to his herd, quite as if the encounter with him never happened.

Taking up your spot next to Daniel you glance up at him, “What is this?” You asked breathlessly. 

“Open it.” He says, voice a tremble and couldn’t help but think that he knows. Was this what a best friend break up was like? Staring at it you forced the top open, but you let it go. Snapping shut without a glimpse. You shake your head, gulping feeling the bile rise. “I can’t Daniel” 

His hand comes into view, twice the size of yours. Veins scattered along his knuckles, red from the cold. Taking the box from you grip you stared at your fingers, missing the feeling of his hands on yours. 

“I’m in love with you.” He blurts in out like it was nothing new to you. Your head whipped so fast you got dizzy. His eyes were genuine, you always knew he was lying. The way he would glance up and down then to side. Tongue poking out with a fiddling of handing, but he didn’t show any signs. He was a good actor though. 

“She told you.” You accuses like a defensive mechanism. You guessed Keri thought you moved on with your feelings for Daniel. There was no other reason you could think  of. 

“She did.’ He confirms, Nodding his head. Was this was this a joke to him? Cause it wasn’t fucking funny. You shook your head feeling the fire burning in your blood. 

‘I can’t do this.” You speak, removing yourself from the seat and jumping out of the sleigh. Starting to head back in the direction you think the farm was located. The cold weather bite at your body, but you hugged yourself too furious to care. 

“Y/N!” 

“Leave me alone Daniel.” You could here him chase after you, with the ay he was breathing. 

“Mom told me you wouldn’t believe me.” His voice getting louder. 

“Maybe you should’ve kept it to yourself Seavey, better yet you should’ve let me sleep in.” You were hurt, and you didn’t know how to comprehend any of this. 

“I love when you talk about things you’re passionate about. Like the colors on your paint palette, how you mixed blue and purple for the perfect shade of magenta.” 

That was two months ago and you remembered the excitement you felt. After hours of mixing you finally made the exact shade you wanted. Daniel was the first one you came to, as he was at your apartment. 

“Daniel stop.” using his name the way you were was like a sting each time. 

“Or the time you hit that sparrow, you pulled over as so soon as you felt the bird hit the grill. You dug him a grave with a used spoon in the truck of my car. Gave him a funeral and forced me to speak at it like it was lost friend. It was the day I finally realized I love you with every fiber of my being.” You could hear the strain in his voice. 

That happened two fucking years ago. 

“It’s not fair.” You speak stopping in your tracks, a good distance away from the sleigh. Feeling his presence behind you, you let him reach out for you. His hand turning you to face him yet you faced the ground feeling like you lost a damn war, defeated and drained. 

“I know it’s not and I’m so incredibly sorry.” He sounded like he was begging for you. 

“Okay.”  you didn't know exactly what it was for, but you felt like it was needed. 

His hand came to rest on your cheek wiping a tear you didn’t know slip. His touch delicate against your face, tilting your head up he caught your lips against his. His lips were soft as you fell into sync. Tasting like cinnamon and peppermint. Pulling him closer you lost yourself within him, the feel, the smell, and the touch of him. 

Kissing him was like finally finding the last piece of your puzzle, the way both of you fit perfectly together amazed you. He tasted like heaven and heaven tasted like home. 

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Felt like I could’ve added more, but its already long.

I hope you enjoyed this piece.

Also if ya made it to the end comment which Why Don’t We guy I should do next. 

[villainscomplex]

could cry just thinkin about you

anyway i actually started working on @asanoyaweek21 like halfway through july after i finished my camp nano word count, but then i tripped and fell back into my princess tutu pit and ,,,,,,,,,,, yeah im late already 

anyway asanoya week day one: soulmate au / the broom bc i will never get over the homoeroticism of the broom fight 

Also on: AO3

Wattpad

FFnet

Quotev

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When Nishinoya Yuu is a child, he’s a coward. 

He’s little, and there’s this ever present bundle of fear and anxiety writhing around in his chest. It means he’s scared, he concludes, and so he cries when he rides a bike for the first time, and then when he gets lost in the woods near his house, and then again when he comes across a dog bigger than he is. 

It’s strange, he begins to think, as he grows. He’s sure that feeling must be his own, but sometimes he’s suddenly, explicitly happy, and sometimes when he thinks he should be happy, he’s so painfully sad that it aches in every fiber of his being. 

When he’s eight, Yuu scrapes his leg from knee to mid-shin when he falls out of a tree. The pain is the first sensation he’s aware of, arm twisted awkwardly beneath him where it’d made a futile attempt to cushion his fall. Underneath it, concern spikes, bubbling with that familiar chill of anxiety. Yuu is too busy thinking about how much his arm and leg hurt to give it too much thought at the time. 

Yuu is eight the first time he breaks his arm, and the cast itches so much that he’s tempted to tear it off the moment it’s on. Yuu is eight when he’s sitting in the passenger seat of his grandfather’s car, a cast on one arm and ice cream in his other hand. He thinks the scrape down his leg is going to leave a nasty scar, but it’ll look cool and he can tell people whatever he wants about its origin. 

“You don’t seem excited about your ice cream,” his grandfather remarks with a little chuckle, lips tugging up.

Yuu huffs. “I am! I’m super excited!”

He thinks he is, at least. Yuu loves ice cream, and he always gets excited when he gets it, but that tugging little concern is still nestled deep in his chest and Yuu doesn’t really know what to do with it. He’s so used to it, like second nature, but somehow it feels foreign nowadays. 

His grandpa laughs again. “I bet your soulmate is worried about you, always causing yourself trouble like this.” 

Yuu stares back at him, ice cream halfway to his mouth. “Huh?”

“Your soulmate,” the man says again, “everyone’s got one. Not necessarily romantic, mind ya. You can feel their emotions. It’s a little inconvenient sometimes, but you miss it when it’s gone. You’re always hurting yourself, so your soulmate is probably worried about you.”

Yuu thinks about his grandmother. His memories of her are faint, at best. He’d barely been old enough to remember her face when she’d passed, but he remembers how strange his grandfather had acted after, like something was missing from the core of his being. Yuu thinks about the word  soulmate . There’s someone out there meant to be in his life specifically, and he’s meant to be in theirs. Yuu thinks about the little bundle of emotion in his chest, and he realizes that must be his soulmate.

He hadn’t thought to try and distinguish them until now, but it has him tracking his memories back as far back as he can, seeking that feeling in them all. Sure enough, the anxiety is ever present. Sometimes, it’s duller than others, muffled beneath other emotions, but it’s always there. 

“I think my soulmate is a scaredy-cat,” Yuu announces, and then shrieks when his cold ice cream drips onto his exposed knee. 

His grandfather laughs, and Yuu whines as he shoves the top of the cone into his mouth in a futile attempt to save the rest of it. 

When he’s a child, Nishinoya Yuu is a coward. When he’s eight, his grandfather tells him about  soulmates  , and Yuu thinks  my soulmate is scared of everything.  It keeps him up that night, staring at the ceiling in a way that feels too ancient for a boy his age, but he’s come to a conclusion. If his soulmate is a scaredy-cat, then Yuu will just have to be the brave one for the both of them. 

He tries to reach out to that little bundle of feeling with his resolve, wanting to sooth the turmoil there. It doesn’t change, but Yuu is determined. He’ll become strong enough for the both of them, and then he’ll protect his soulmate so they never have to worry again. 

“From now on,” he tells the air, sitting up and jumping off his bed, “I’m going to be the bravest person ever! Then my soulmate will never have to worry again!”

His bravery starts by yelling past his bedtime. He tells himself that he isn’t scared when his mother shouts from the other room, he’s just being respectful by listening to her and crawling back into his bed, hiding under his blanket. If his heart is pounding in his ears, then that’s a secret between him and his soulmate. 

With his new resolve, Yuu grows. He becomes bold and eccentric, loud and outspoken. He becomes a lionhearted boy, too much brilliance to fit inside a body as small as his remains. He becomes stubborn and strong-willed, never backing down from a challenge regardless of how much trouble it will get him into. Yuu embraces everything he has to offer, but he refuses to be sad. 

That ever present pit of broiling emotions is constant, nestled deep in his chest like a second heart, and he doesn’t want to make his soulmate worry ever again. 

Some days, it’s calmer than others. There’s times he nearly forgets it’s there, in the wake of some other hesitant, but excited emotion, and there’s times where it’s so strong that it wakes him even from a dead sleep. Those nights are the worst because he  knows  there’s nothing he can do as is, and his soulmate is having to suffer alone. 

He tries to encourage them as best he can, wondering if they feel his emotions as strongly as he often feels their’s. 

Yuu is in his last year of middle school when things begin to change. He’s taken to volleyball like a moth to flame. There’s something about being behind everyone like the final line of defense, the one everyone depends on to keep the ball in play; it’s thrilling, keeping his blood rushing in his veins and his heart pounding in his ears. 

He wins an award, and he’s so full of pride that he nearly misses the faint little swell of happiness that comes from that bundle of feelings in the back of his chest. Maybe his soulmate does feel his emotions just as strongly. 

The first time he meets Azumane Asahi, Yuu doesn’t think much of him. His hair is a little past his ears, curling up beneath the lobes and sticking up in the back like he’d recently been laying on it. His first impression is that Azumane looks as if he’s waiting for the entire world to come down on his shoulders. He easily dwarfs everyone, but he stands with his shoulders curled in, hands clasped complacently in front of him and gaze down, as if trying to avoid notice. 

Yuu isn’t sure why, but it pisses him off, seeing someone who looks as big and strong as Azumane looking like such a coward. 

He says as much to Azumane’s face exactly a week later.

Azumane balks. “What.” 

Yuu puts his hands on his hips. “You’re huge and super strong, but you act like a total coward. You look like a skittish dog or something!” 

“A dog…” Azumane visibly slouches lower.

Yuu would say his dejected expression is almost comical, if it hadn’t been the exact opposite of what he’d been wanting. Azumane reminds him of how he’d been when he was a child, anxiety ridden and glass hearted. 

“Okay!” Yuu announces. “We’re gonna practice together!” 

Azumane doesn’t even get out a response before Yuu is towing him back towards the court, determined to teach this boy the ways of reckless bravery and intense practice.

Yuu doesn’t know when or where he lost the plot, but somehow this becomes second nature. He finds himself seeking Azumane out in the hallway, barreling into the larger boy, or towing him behind himself from time to time. He meets Ryu and he meets Kiyoko; the former becomes his friend early on and both boys adamantly say they’re crushing on the latter.

It feels like a performance. Yuu knows Kiyoko isn’t his soulmate. She’s gentle and anxiously soft-spoken, but not in the same way that his soulmate feels like they should be. He doesn’t admit that maybe there’s this half formed idea about Azumane tucked away in the back of his mind, and everyone is better for it. 

He wants to be sure. He has to be. 

“I think I should trim my hair soon,” Asahi remarks offhandedly one day, when they’re leaving practice.

Yuu watches his fingers card through the wavy brown strands, a little contemplative frown fixed on his face. He tries to imagine Asahi with short hair like most of the others, and the image just won’t come to mind. Maybe he’s biased.

“No way, Asahi-san!” Yuu grins, reaching out to slap the other man on the back. “I think long hair suits you! It makes you look kinda wild, don’t you think? It’s cool!”

Asahi slouches into himself a little, curling a strand of hair around his finger. He hums noncommittally, allowing the strand to fall away, but he doesn’t comment on Yuu’s words. He just looks a little more thoughtful.

Yuu is only a little surprised when he really  looks  at Asahi one day and his hair is just past his shoulders. He’s got a little facial hair now, too, and something about it makes him feel more mature, older, like he’s finally growing into himself. Yuu takes a running leap onto his back the moment he sees him in practice that afternoon, and Asahi hardly sways beneath him. 

The realization settles in; this isn’t going to last forever. He won’t always be able to be with everyone like this. Asahi has grown and filled out, fitting into the broadness of his shoulders. He’s steady and unyielding, and Yuu isn’t sure when he started to become something like this. 

That pit of anxiety still lingers in his chest. It wavers, sometimes. 

They go against Date Tech. Their defeat is crushing and miserable for everyone involved, but when Asahi doesn’t call out for the last spike, Yuu feels it like an anchor in the hollow of his chest. It’s painful, near suffocating, and he can see the sheer weight of it coming down on Asahi’s shoulders. Those negative feelings swirl up into his chest again, fought only by his own fury - fury at Asahi, for not calling for the spike. 

Fury at himself, for not retrieving them. 

He hates it. 

“Why won’t you blame me?” 

Yuu feels the anger before he witnesses it. This is his confirmation, he’s sure. There’s no doubt anymore; these emotions living alongside his own are Asahi’s. The first time he feels Asahi’s anger, it feels cold, like ice in his veins. There’s something sad about it, something self-sacrificing, like Asahi wants to shoulder everything and leave nothing to be spared for the rest of them. His fury comes like a wave of ocean water, painful when it enters his lungs.

Yuu turns on his heel. Asahi stands - no, Asahi hunches - in front of him. He looks like he had when Noya had first met him, shoulders curled into himself, back bent like the world itself is coming down on it. Maybe it is, this time. Yuu doesn’t know if Asahi has realized that they’re soulmates. Yuu doesn’t know if Asahi would even accept it. 

Asahi doesn’t seem to be in a very accepting mood right now, and Yuu is in no mindset for motivation. 

They fight. They fight before they’re even anything, before Yuu can say anything, before he can even confess to himself that he would have been willing to leave his soulmate behind for Asahi, even if the other boy hadn’t ended up being them. He doesn’t tell Asahi how he used to be a coward. He doesn’t tell him that the reason he works so hard and never stops moving forward is because he’d made a promise to both of them a long time ago. 

He doesn’t tell Asahi that he’s terrified to lose him.

All he knows is that if Asahi’s anger is like ice, then his is like flames, raging and all-consuming. All he knows is that he’s furious, and he’s yelling, and then there’s a  snap , and suddenly everything goes cold. Asahi’s feelings drop to the pit of his stomach and become cold there, and Yuu feels like the tightrope he’s been walking has finally given way. 

Ryu holds him back, and all he can do is watch Asahi walk away. 

He doesn’t cry. 

Asahi doesn’t show up for practice the next day, and his lack of presence doesn’t go unnoticed. Yuu corners him in the hall. He feels like this is starting to become a cycle now, arguing and fighting over trivial things. It’d be easy to solve if Asahi just had a little more faith, but Yuu knows better. He knows how Asahi feels too well. 

Yuu doesn’t care what others think. He bleaches his hair because he thinks it looks cool. When people tell him he’s too loud, he gets louder. He refuses to be looked down upon and spoken over. He’s been in detention more times than he can count, but it never stops him from repeated offenses. 

Yuu doesn’t care what others think, but when Asahi walks away from him, it feels final. It feels like the end of something that never began. Nishinoya Yuu never cries. 

(The people in the hall that day are silent witnesses to his tears, but nobody says a thing about them.) 

Yuu isn’t much for thinking, so he spends all of his time in suspension doing, instead. He works and works and works some more, trying not to think of Asahi turning his back on them. On him. All he can do is hope Asahi will come to his senses by the time Yuu is back. 

He doesn’t. Yuu goes back, and Asahi is still gone, so he leaves again. He loves volleyball, but he won’t be a part of it if it means leaving Asahi behind. Asahi may believe that he’s unnecessary, but they all know better. 

It isn’t until he’s staring at the broad expanse of Asahi’s back again in the practice match that he really  realizes,  and for the second time, he feels like he’s really seeing Asahi. He sees someone who is trying for the people he cares about, someone who is finally learning to try for  himself  and he thinks  that’s all I wanted.  

They fix the broom together. 

“We’re soulmates,” Yuu tells him, so abruptly that Asahi’s surprised flinch dislodges the two pieces again. 

Asahi glances down. “I know.”

Yuu stares at him. “What.”

“I know,” Asahi says again, gaze soft and hesitant. “I’ve known since we met. You aren’t exactly quiet about your emotions, y’know. I never said anything because you liked Shimizu. You deserved better than someone like me.”

“Asahi-san,” Yuu intones, “you’re the  only  person I’ve ever liked.”

“What.”

“Oh my god.”

When Asahi laughs, it lights up his whole face. Yuu stares for a long moment, watching Asahi’s shoulders tremble. He feels Asahi’s relief wash over him like a second skin, settling into his bones themselves. The warmth of his joy is like a blanket. 

“Well,” Asahi says, “I guess we’re both a little dumb then, huh?”

“To be fair,” Yuu huffs, “I didn’t realize till after the Date Tech match.” 

Asahi laughs again, and Yuu thinks that everything is going to be okay after all. Asahi is finally starting to have some sort of belief in himself, and while Yuu knows his doubt and anxiety won’t go away overnight, they’re taking baby steps. 

And if Ryu and Daichi give Suga and Kiyoko ten dollars each when they admit their newest revelation, then nobody is any the wiser. 

[liannyeong]

Crimson (Chapter 3)

Summary: Jaebeom tours Yujin around the mansion, and the start of the wedding preparations.

Word count: 2463

Pairing: Jaebeom X OC

Warning(s): None

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16

A/N: Phew! Managed to get this done in time! And it’s a longer chapter too :D Do support my works by buying me a coffee! Follow me on Twitter for updates ~ See you next week! ^^

Jaebeom takes Yujin to the garden first. Standing a few steps away from the garden arch, pink flowers decorating the iron base. The vibrant petals contrast against the surrounding plain green hedges. Jaebeom doesn't bring her into the garden though. Instead, he briefly explains that it's more of a maze instead of an actual garden.

"What's in the middle of the maze then?" Yujin asks, looking beyond the arch. Interestingly, the sun is bright overhead, but the garden pathway is rather dark, and there seems to be a kind of fog clouding it, giving a mysterious aura.

"Oh, nothing much. Just a water fountain, that's all," Jaebeom responds, bringing her attention to the mansion instead. Yujin slightly frowns. Why does the fae seem rather dismissive?

"The mansion has an east wing and a west wing," Jaebeom gestures to the rectangular blocks that emerge from the centre of the mansion. "And there are three floors. The first floor is a common area, where the kitchen and the dining hall are located in the west wing. The east wing is where the servants' quarters are located."

"The second floor is made up of sleeping quarters for the rest of the household. That one, however," Jaebeom points out at the balcony just above the front door to the mansion, "is the ballroom. The third floor is the library in its entirety."

Next, Jaebeom brings her back inside the mansion. They step into the kitchen first, where Chan -- the one who served them earlier -- is focused on cooking a dish. There are two other faes busily moving about in the kitchen. None of them seem to be affected by their presence. Yujin catches the greenish glint in their eyes.

"Does your household employ different elemental faes?" Yujin asks when they exit the kitchen.

"Elemental faes prefer to stick to their own kind. But here, it's different. We don't follow the general notion."

"What about Jinyoung? He's your brother but he's not a Fire fae."

Jaebeom smiles ruefully.  "That's because he's my half-brother."

Yujin expects him to go on, but he doesn't. He leaves the conversation as it is. The next room over is the dining hall, but having been there during breakfast, Jaebeom skips to the servants' quarters.

"This is where the servants stay. If you need anything, you can approach them. Preferably, you should approach me though," Jaebeom murmurs the last sentence to himself but the silence in the house makes it loud and clear to Yujin's ears.

They head up the stairs, to the second floor. Jaebeom shows Yujin the ballroom, pushing open the large wooden door. It's basically empty, the daylight streaming into the room through the glass doors, casting a glow onto the marble-tiled floor. Beyond the doors is the balcony that she saw from the garden arch.

"We shall hold our wedding here," Jaebeom suddenly says, a huge grin on his face. In an instant, Yujin feels her heart drop. The tour has made her temporarily forget the reason she was brought here.

"Well, let's continue on." The fae walks out of the room, Yujin trailing behind.

He goes past the stairs and to the start of the hallway of the west wing, pausing there. "At the very end is where my room is located," Jaebeom states. "If you ever need anything, you can find me there."

Then they go up to the third floor, where the library is. The stairs form a bridge-like structure that splits into two pathways. The library appears taller than the other two floors, thanks to the roof that is shaped like a dome. It is made of entirely glass, allowing for the steady stream of sunlight. With the vast space -- a result of the merging of the two wings into one -- Yujin guesses there could be thousands of books in total: there are aisles of books, and every wall is turned into a bookshelf too!

"All the books in the library are my personal collection," Jaebeom gestures at the aisles. “But you’re more than welcome to read them.”

Yujin stares at Jaebeom, mouth gaping at him. She has always wanted to read new books but never had the chance, considering the financial situation of her family. They only have enough to sustain their survival, rarely anything more to purchase new things. Only once did her father gift her a novel that she has read multiple times throughout the years.

"Thank you, I’d like that a lot," Yujin can’t help but return a smile, genuinely grateful and happy. This seems to please the fae, for he looks at her as if she’s never smiled before.

"Well, uh--" Jaebeom clears his throat, “Come this way.”

Moving past rows of bookshelves, right at the very end, there is an arched glass window, with cushioned seats lined on the windowsill. Looking out, Yujin gets a bird's eye view of the mansion grounds, including the garden maze. She spots a fountain in the center, true to what Jaebeom said.

“It's nice, isn't it?” Jaebeom comments.

Definitely, Yujin thinks to herself.

“Well, that’s all there is in this mansion,” Jaebeom concludes. "I hope you’re more comfortable and familiar here."

“Yes, thank you for showing me around."

“Anything for you,” Jaebeom replies, eyes rather fond. "Ah yes, you’ll be fitted for your dress today, in the late afternoon. Yeri will remind you again."

“I shall leave you to yourself then,” he says, bowing politely and making his way out.

Yujin redirects her attention to the view outside. How advantageous is this, she realizes. Having a view from this angle will allow her to monitor the movements around the mansion.

She might have just arrived here and so far, no one has tried to harm her. Still, she can't get complacent. She can't let her guard down. There's a lot of things she doesn't know, questions that remain unanswered. But it's better she doesn't delve too much into it, she muses. The fae are skilled in deluding people, she reminds herself. It's better that she focuses on finding a way out of this place. She shouldn’t stay here any longer than necessary.

---

Yujin is woken by a shake on her shoulder, her eyes still heavy. She peeks an eye, the sun already casting slanted shadows through the windows. Yeri is standing next to the bed, reminding her of the dress fitting. Yujin quickly freshens herself up before following the servant lady to a guest room situated in the west wing of the mansion.

“Why couldn’t we do the fitting in my own room?” Yujin wonders aloud.

“It’s Master Im’s orders, Lady Shin,” Yeri responds as calm and dignified as usual. Then, she comes a little closer, and whispers, “Master Im doesn’t want anyone near or in your room.” She lets out a small giggle.

Yujin frowns. In an instant, the fae immediately reverts back to her composed self, as if she's done something wrong. Her sudden shift in mood has Yujin letting out a small laugh. Yeri smiles at her sheepishly.

The guestroom is as large as her room in the east wing. Seeing no one else in the room, Yujin decides to take her place at the loveseat. She’s rather thankful to have borrowed a book from the library and brought it along. She was reading it to pass time, but accidentally fell asleep until Yeri came. Basking in the silence of the room, Yujin flips open the book and continues on the page she left off.

She didn’t keep track of the time. She was nose deep into the novel when the door swings open and a commotion follows. Looking up, Yujin sees a male fae entering the room in the longest strides she has ever seen. He stands in the middle of the room, leaning his weight onto one foot. His legs are long, Yujin notices, and his cheekbones are visible beneath his slightly tanned skin. The next thing Yujin notices is the fae’s blue-colored eyes -- a sign that he is a Water fae. Yujin slowly rises to her feet.

“You must be the Shin Yujin,” the fae says with a subtle accent, looking her up and down. Perhaps elemental faes have different cultures and slightly different languages, much like human races.

“I’m Bam, your couturier,” he introduces himself. Before Yujin can even respond, he waves his hand and a mannequin appears in front of him, at the empty space between the guest bed and the loveseat. Bam steps forward, moving his right arm in a fluid motion and a measuring tape slides smoothly down his arm and into his hand. If Yujin had blinked, she might not have even noticed it.

“Measure her, please,” the male instructs and it’s like the measuring tape comes to life. Similar to water, the tape flows from the fae’s hand and slithers its way towards Yujin. It coils around her ankle, then spreads to her hip before covering her entire body like a tight-fit suit. It measures the littlest of details, leaving no skin untouched. Once done, it flows back down to the floor, creeping up to the mannequin. The mannequin morphs to be an exact replica of Yujin’s body.

“Alright, let’s see,” Bam goes. He crosses his arms, fingers underneath his chin, brows furrowed in thought. He tilts his head to the side, humming to himself. Then in the next moment, he suggests, “Perhaps a basic dress?”

Bam snaps his fingers and what appears to be snowflakes starts falling above the mannequin, to reveal a long simple dress. It is plain white, no design apart from the lace on the cap sleeves. The material hugs at the waist and tapers to her thighs, accentuating the Yujin’s curves. The tail fans out at the bottom, forming a smooth circle on the floor.

“What do you think?” the fae asks, glancing at Yujin. She doesn’t even get a chance to form her opinion, let alone open her mouth as Bam waves his hand, shaking his head. “On second thought, never mind. Let’s try another… I think… You’ll go better with an off-shoulder dress.”

Another snap and the basic dress moulds itself into an off-shoulder dress. The sleeves are long and tight to skin. There’s a dip in the middle, towards the cleavage but it’s not too low that it is racy. Around the waist is a rose gold embroidery, and the skirt flows loosely, multiple layers of light chiffon.

“What do you think?” Bam asks again, looking rather proud at his design. This time, Yujin has the time to step forward and feel the material.

The dress is beautiful, Yujin must admit, though she wonders if it suits her.

Just then, Jaebeom barges in, door slamming against the wall, his expression sour. “Bam!” he bellows.

“Oh, hello, Jaebeom,” the Water fae greets. “I think I’m just about done here--”

“How dare you make my bride wait!” Jaebeom raises his voice at the other, jabbing a finger into his chest. “Is this how you treat your clientele? Showing up late?”

Bam cowers. Yujin feels the temperature plummet. Watching the scene warily, she notices the candles around the room dimmed low, almost extinguished.

“I chose you as our couturier and yet, you treat my bride like a fool?”

“I’m sorry, Jaebeom, I had other business to attend to--”

“Excuses!” the Fire fae roars.

“Jaebeom--” Yujin intervenes, though her voice is small. Her own heart pounds in her ears. She definitely doesn’t want to be at the receiving end of Jaebeom’s wrath, but she feels the urge to defend Bam. The Water fae has his head hung low, avoiding any form of eye contact with the other fae. Yujin doesn’t know where she got the courage to move forward, such that she touches Jaebeom’s elbow. “It’s fine. It wasn’t a long wait -- not with a book to keep me company.”

Jaebeom looks over his shoulder. His anger seems to dissipate almost instantly. Out of the corner of her eye, Yujin notices the fires are back to normal. “Are you sure? I can punish him, if you’d like.”

“That won’t be ideal, would it? We need his service for our wedding,” she placates the male.

Jaebeom exhales steadily. Then he turns back to Bam, who is still looking down at his feet. Jaebeom jabs his finger into his chest once more, and spits, “You should be thankful to the mercy of my bride. Else, you’d be dead by now.”

The Fire fae faces Yujin once more, gently tapping her shoulder, a smile on his lips. His hand slides down her arm to hold her hand up between them. “If there’s anything you are displeased with, don’t hesitate to call me.” He brings up the hand higher, pressing his lips to her knuckles. Gently letting her go, Jaebeom turns on his heels and leaves the room. Yujin can’t help but notice how Bam immediately relaxes.

“Thank you for saving my life,” the couturier expresses his gratitude with a slight bow, a relieved expression on his face.

Yujin offers a kind smile. “I don’t think I did anything but you’re welcome.”

“Such amazing ability, you have,” Bam says. “I can’t believe that it’s true.”

Yujin cocks her head to the side. “What is?”

“Well,” Bam starts rather hesitantly. “Jaebeom has always been a hot-headed person, much worse than what you saw earlier. But his temper has mostly died down ever since he moved to this mansion, you see. Occasionally, he does get angry when it comes to important matters. But the fact that he was furious at me for being late and that you calmed him real quick… You really have Jaebeom wrapped around your finger.”

Yujin got reminded of Jinyoung, who said the same words. She shrugs her shoulders. “Maybe he doesn’t like truancy.”

Bam shakes his head. “I’ve known him all my life. And I’ve never seen him like this.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “You must mean a lot to him, considering that he’s protective of you.”

Yujin doubts so. There must be another reason for Jaebeom to behave in such a manner. Even if he is protective of me, it's because he needs me for something. But I wonder what...

“Ah!” Bam’s face suddenly lights up. He whips around and snaps his fingers at the mannequin. The sleeves are gone, and thin straps are added instead. Then, just slightly above the chest, a gold jewelry wraps around the mannequin. Magic flows downward, constructing a long chiffon cape that drapes all the way down, almost touching the floor.

“How do you find this?” Bam presents it to Yujin, his blue eyes gleam with pride.

“It’s-- Majestic.” Yujin finds herself amazed by the elegance it holds.

Bam grins wide. “Perfect for the bride of the Im house.”

[1zashreena1]

Princess Gets A Shot -21

18+, m/f, technically OCxDiego Jimenez [Power]

Summary:  Diego requests backup and then it turns out that backup really was needed. 

WARNINGS: Ridiculous descriptions and ‘the code is more like guidelines’ outlook on grammar. Is it OOC if the character was given essentially zero development in canon???

Gun violence, Soft Murder Panther, the L word, come eating, pussy eating, ass eating, look, everything gets eaten here, Diego being Diego, plus size woman+fit man, actual anal, feeeeeeeels

A/N:  Princess took on a life of her own and has essentially become an OC. There are infrequent mentions of her description (specifically as plus size) and her actual name in later pieces (its Bicki). She started as self-insert so she looks like me (plus size, white, short, blue eyes, curly hair). If that is not your thing, I totally understand. And do not feel obligated to read this, I will not be offended!

I’m not a fan of “plot” so be aware that most of this series is just meandering through their relationship, angst-fluff-smut whiplash style. But with dick jokes.

TAGLIST: @chelsfic​​​ ​ @symbiont13​​​ ​ @nicke0115​​​ ​​ @bunnykjm​​​ ​ @rosee-sensuelle​​​ ​ @girlpornparadise​​​ ​ @mandoplease​​​ ​ @heresathreebee​​​ ​ @xxsteph-enrixx​​​ ​ @jetiikad​​​ ​ @joalsglasses​​​ ​ @mutantcookiesecrets​​​ ​ @demoncatstone​​​ ​ @squidlywiddly87​​​ ​ @lockedoutofmyotherblog​​​ ​ @poeedamerons​​​ ​ @xxidontwikeitxx​​  @kid-from-new-zealand​​ @fleurfatale89​​ @allalngthewtchtower​​

Its 11:52am when you start shutting down your computer this Friday. Coworkers start chuckling and you roll your eyes, you know what's coming next. Tremaine pops around the shared wall of your cubicles to grin manically.

"You have the longest dick appointments ever." She waggles both eyebrows excessively and you laugh.

"Its not a dick appointment. I got a ring, bitch." You flap your left hand around in retort and she giggles madly. Your cell chirps and she makes a stern face.

"You better not be late. I bet he'll withhold punishment!" She cackles and disappears behind the felted wall to your snorts. 

You grab your stuff and pull the phone out of your purse to check the text.

Take your fiancé to work day?

Increasingly, Diego has been giving you more and more access to the business. He uses literal names and real dollar amounts in conversation, its actually a little fascinating how well he manages an outfit so vast. You ask questions and sometimes help him with spreadsheets or schedules. Its all very professional and you love the contrast of how he runs the business versus his reputation. 

Whatever meeting he has tonight must be more social than business if he feels comfortable enough to take you along. You trust Diego and his men to keep you safe.

What's the dress code?

You have an extensive wardrobe now, so some guidance might be helpful.

Typical club

Attached is a picture of a dark, deep, forest green suit.

Your stomach drops and your blood pressure rises. He's gonna look so fucking good.

Uhhhh. Just fucking tell me what you want me to wear

Melted my brain you ridiculous man

Sure, it feeds his ego, but its the truth. He's so hot that sometimes you don't know what to do with yourself.

The gray dress. Black shoes. Got jewelry here for you

…..no panties😛🐈

Aww yiss, you laugh to yourself. 

New bling AND head?????? Goddamn bby

Don't worry, you'll earn it

You don't know if you should be amused or worried. Guess I'll find out.

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

The new jewelry is a pair of very long sapphire chandelier earrings and a matching anklet. The bright blue sparkles like fire against your fair skin and makes your eyes pop. You've never known another man with such style sense. 

You're standing in front of his dresser mirror admiring the earrings as they brush the top of your cleavage when Diego calls you.

"Come here, Princess. I'll give you a hand." His raspy voice never fails to give you goosebumps. When you turn around Diego is kneeling on the rug holding the anklet. Its not the first time he has helped you dress, but something about it is vaguely suspicious. Those chocolate eyes are too smirky.

You step forward and offer your right foot. While Diego fastens the band of blue stones you stroke over some newly emerging silver at his temples with a fingertip. You're so enamored with the distinguished look that it startles you when his fingers brush your inner thighs. In less than a moment Diego has his hand buried in your crotch, fingers finding your folds, and then the middle sinks into you to the knuckle. 

"Aiiieee!" You yelp, completely unprepared for this development but not exactly surprised. That single finger is hot and thick, he manages to circle your cervix fleetingly. 

"Good girl." Diego purrs.

You involuntarily clench tight even as you glare down at him. 

"The fuck. You couldn't warn me first?" Your snarl is undermined by breathlessness as your hips roll for more. Its infuriating and amazing how quickly this man can wreck you.

"Princess." He chides quietly, "I had to check that you followed my orders like an obedient little girl." He smiles widely, clearly pleased with the both of you. Your heart trips and you curl fingers over his shoulder for balance as the heel of his palm grinds your clit. He goes on tauntingly, "Don't show this pretty pussy to anyone else tonight and you'll get a very big reward."

"Asshole. Fuck you." You moan. The dual stimulation is winding you up quickly. You gasp with disappointment when Diego pulls his hand away but it turns into a whine as you watch him suck your flavor off of his own digit. 

He pulls the middle finger out of his mouth with a pop. "You will."

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

The club is packed but some lackey already has a VIP booth ready for Mr. Jimenez. A huge hand lands on your lower back to usher you along, its a very couple-y move. When you sink into the plush seating Diego sits practically on top of you and wraps an arm around your shoulders. Something is definitely up here.

"So, you wanna tell me what's going on tonight?" You whisper, face buried in his neck to ensure you can be heard over the music. 

Diego orders drinks, you're sure its something nasty for him and fruity for you, before turning your way. The hand on your shoulder is petting you.

"I have a new distributor as part of the side deal terms. I cannot shoot her without ruining the deal and we need this deal. But she doesn't take no for an answer. And while I respect her ambition, it is becoming… problematic." Diego scans the club as he speaks, decidedly not looking at you. 

Oh really?

"Diego Jimenez. Are you uncomfortable with a woman hitting on you??" You ask incredulously. You're trying not to laugh because he clearly is. 

Diego turns to glare down at you and if you were anyone else it would have the intended effect. You just smile beautifically. 

"I gave you my word, did I not?" Diego huffs dramatically and glances down at your ring. Oh, baby. "And I don't like her." He shudders.

"I trust you, Diego. I wouldn't have said yes if I didn't." You intone gently. Whatever your man needs, you'll do your best to give it to him. 

"Good. Now be possessive. She seems to respect women more than men. And I am not bringing my sister into this, it is ours." Diego mutters as he spots a small group of women coming in from the back. Ours? Without Alicia?? That really means behind her back. Diego, what are you doing?

You lean back casually and cross your legs. If Diego wants a calmly confident woman to belong to, then that is what he'll get.

Julio lets the tall, muscular woman in front lead the group into the booth where they sit across from you. She looks Diego up and down boldly, then licks her lips. You laugh outright and it draws her attention. 

"I'm Liz. And you are…?" She leans forward to assess you. Its supposed to be intimidating but you're unconcerned. Her brown eyes are sharp, they alight on your ring as you sip your drink lazily.

"Princess." You smile without it meeting your eyes, its the icy one you reserve for frenemies and men you would enjoy hurting. Liz cocks her head and blinks, you've managed to surprise her.

"So the rumors are true. Didn't peg you as the type to settle down." You can feel Diego stiffen next to you with her reply as she turns back to him. You want to hate her, you really do, but that was a good one. That feeling remedies itself with her next words, "Although. That is more, a lot more, than I would have expected." She gauges your body and sniffs in disapproval. 

The jab at your size isn't new. Or particularly innovative either. While you're certainly not amused, Diego, on the other hand, has become deathly still. You transfer the drink to your right hand and slide the left over his thigh so your fingertips slip between his legs. He is like a statue under you, so incredibly tense. 

"Nothing he can't handle." You sleaze, arching a brow at her flat chest. Gradually, Diego eases while Liz snorts and rolls her eyes.

"How did you do?" Diego drawls, leaning forward to rest elbows on his knees without displacing your grip. Its a casual display of his comfort with you touching him. 

"Its all spoken for. I need another load plus thirty percent. Baltimore is hungry." Liz decides to ignore you entirely. Victory. 

"I'll give you twenty-five, you'll give me ten percent more of the profit." Diego continues without her agreement, "You're ambitious, but don't bite off more than you can chew." He dismisses Liz with a wave and you can tell that irritates her. 

"Oh, don't worry, I don't bite the pretty ones." She is smarmy and leering. She doesn't even have any style.

"How boring." You purse your lips and look unimpressed. 

"Sí. Truly." Diego huffs as he adjusts his jacket to settle back into the cushions, and further into your side. He crosses an ankle over his knee and smiles into your hair. You maintain eye contact with a silently seething Liz as she rises to leave with her girls. 

Licking your lips, you slide your hand higher until you're cupping Diego through his pants and squeeze gently. Her eyes widen, then narrow with his relaxing posture as Diego melts into your public groping. She stomps off and the girls follow, one looking over her shoulder to watch you two hungrily. Something about the girl looks familiar but you can't place it.

You wait until they fade into the crowd, then turn to Diego….

Who is slouching blissfully with your dick massage. The sight makes you laugh, its adorable in a kinky way. He smiles slowly, obviously pleased with your performance. 

"Perfect little Princess. You are a very good Bad Girl." Diego praises you with a low rumble. He really does look so good in this new suit. His gray shirt matches your dress, he picked it specifically to look like a matched set. A subtle sign of your status together. You're leaning in for a kiss when you hear a muffled popping sound.

Diego lurches forward to crush you to his chest and you can feel Julio at your back suddenly.

Its gunfire.

Julio picks you up around the waist and hauls you over Diego’s head and the back of the sofa to go over the railing and into Bastian's waiting hands. Diego pushes your weight up with him, then dives over, too. Bastian is dragging you toward a hallway by the time you register the location change. Your head whips around to locate Diego, left hand reaching out for him. Diego takes two huge strides to press up against you, Julio is on his back. 

Another round of shots echoes in the club as people scream and panic. Its chaos, you can't tell where the bullets are coming from in your adrenaline rush and the enclosed space.

"Go, go now!" The gravelly command lengthens Bastian's strides until you pop out a side door into an alley. Manuela is outside, waving you to the Escalade. Bastian releases you to go around to the driver's side and Diego pushes you forward. You get the back door open just in time for Diego to shove you again so you land on the floor. Curling up, you give them room to climb in, too. Diego slides into the seat above you and covers you with his body, Julio layers on top of your fiancé and slams the door. Gunfire pops off outside in the alley, far too close for comfort. Manuela is still getting in the front when Bastian tears off.

"What the fuck!" You yelp angrily. As the SUV turns out of the alley, Diego tucks your head down further and Manuela returns fire. More shots plunk into the bulletproof body of the Escalade above your head and the window on the other side shatters to rain glass down over Julio. Diego growls ferociously and you reach back to grab his collar while hissing, "Stay down!"

You're not losing him. You refuse. 

"Everyone's behind us, full coverage! Two more blocks and we're out, boss!" Bastian hollers as he weaves through traffic. 

You keep your grip on Diego. Nothing happens for another few minutes, then Bastian whips around a corner and into the underground garage. You recognize it from the road noise and so does Diego, he sags onto you. The car screeches to a halt and everyone starts pouring out. Julio slides out the passenger side behind you and Diego crawls over you to open the door above your head and tumble out.

You lay there for a minute, shaking. Looking up reveals his men receiving orders and Manuela reloading. A large number of cartel members are guarding the closed garage door and more are headed upstairs to sweep the penthouse. 

Slowly, you climb out, unnoticed in the commotion. You take stock of the damage, dozens of holes and indentations mar the black bodywork. Some are right where your head was. Too close.

It enrages you.

"AhhhhhHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!" You scream at maximum volume and kick the door shut with enough force to rock the heavy vehicle. The heel of your shoe snaps off to remain embedded in the metal. The garage echoes your fury and nothing else as it fades to silence.

You whip around to face Diego and his men. Everyone is frozen in place, not a single muscle tics. Your fiancé is staring at you with huge eyes.

"Kill. Her." You growl. Your shoes get ripped off and flung away with extreme force. Your voice is wrecked from the berserker scream, you sound demonic as you stalk up to him and grab his shirt. "Kill. Her!" You repeat at a higher volume. Diego squints down at you in obvious concern.

"Do you think the shooting started right after she left BY ACCIDENT?!?" You are heedless of your audience, caring only for Diego's attention. Big hands come up to your forearms, trying to calm you against your will. He watches you closely as you pant, you know your face is red because you can hear your own pulse. You go to break away and his grip turns to steel. Diego slams you back against the door you kicked closed and pins you to the ruined metal by your wrists and hips.

Your anger morphs into fear which then fades into arousal as you feel the raw power of his body, Diego is holding your wrists so tightly it hurts. Quaking, you slowly look up to meet his eyes. The bearded jaw is tense, a muscle in his cheek jumps, and his eyes are burning. But it isn't rage you see in that smolder.

"Leave us. Now!" Diego barks ferociously. Underlings scatter but your attention is captured by the powerful man you agreed to marry. He leans in close, stealing your breath, to whisper, "If I bring her to you, will you do it?"

Will you? Would you really kill somebody?

They tried to kill me.

"Yes, baby." Your voice is low but even. Your nerves may be shattered but your resolve is solid.

Diego moans roughly, his face screwed up in a flood of emotions, then dives down to take your mouth. You open wide but can do nothing else. Body limp in his hold, you don't even want to do anything. His tongue slides on yours and he tastes like dark liquor and desperation. The beard rubs your sensitive skin raw as your mouth is seized, it ignites a fire so hot that you rub your thighs together pathetically. Diego is the only person to whom you have ever wanted to just submit. 

The level of trust you place in this man is monumental.

He releases your hands and steps back decisively. The sudden lack of support makes you stumble before catching yourself with a hold in his shirt. You blink dazedly, "Wha??"

Diego grips the back of your neck and steers you to the elevator. The doors open and Julio steps out with an appraising look.

"All clear. Bastian stayed upstairs, I'll take over down here. Gordita." He nods to you affectionately.

"Thank you." Your gratitude is deep and Julio smiles softly. Diego pulls you into the elevator and jabs the door close button. When you turn around to look at him you can see his big body shaking faintly.

"Baby." You breathe and reach for him. Diego allows you to fold him down into your embrace and winds those long arms around you. Its not often that Diego requires reassurance or displays contrition.

"This is my fault, Princess. And I will fix it." The dark voice in your ear is dripping with danger. Your stroke over his hair while he nuzzles into your neck, those huge hands tight on your waist.

"You didn't know. I think I was the target the whole time, despite being virtually unknown. And I agreed to come, if I had declined you wouldn't have pushed me." You squeeze his broad shoulders and kiss his jaw. 

"You could have died." He whispers softly. There is real fear in his voice, his defeated posture. It breaks your heart when he croaks, "I cannot lose you."

"But I didn't. You protected me, like I trust you to do. And I could die at any time. Car crashes, freak accidents, medical emergencies, anything could happen." You reason logically. Its probably not helpful in this moment, but its just how you are.

"Fine. Fair. Now stop." Diego mutters, not pleased with your sensibility. "I misjudged. It won't happen again."

You bury your nose in his shirt to inhale, his scent calms your nerves. "I broke a shoe. It probably will happen again."

Diego absolutely loses it and collapses onto you. His rasping howls of laughter are endearing and you giggle with him. His weight makes you hunch over a bit and your cleavage jiggles with his convulsions. Diego buries his face in your ample bust and continues laughing madly. 

When the elevator opens to Bastian's anxious face he just shakes his head at how weird you two are. 

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

Your laughter dissolves into tears the instant you cross the threshold to the bedroom. The adrenaline is bleeding away and you feel numb. Your hands shake so badly that you can't get undressed. Stumbling into the bathroom, you stand in the middle of the room crying against your will while Diego starts the shower. He pops out from behind the clear divider wall and strides right up to you, dripping wet and uncaring. 

"Princess." He sighs deeply and strips the dress up over your head, dropping it to the floor. Your hands stroke over his gleaming chest, reminding yourself that he's okay, Diego is whole and unharmed. You lean your forehead on his chest and sigh as he unhooks your bra, it drops to the floor at your feet and Diego goes to kick it away… only for the strap to get caught on his toes, forcing him to flick his foot in ever more violent movements until the offending garment is flung off through the doorway and into the bedroom.

"Fucking bras." He mutters angrily. 

Your peals of laughter echo in the tiled room. 

"Remember what I said about the adrenaline mix being different when we used the handcuffs?" Your speech pattern is stilted from your jaw shaking violently. Diego's big hands come up to cup your breasts, thumbs rubbing back and forth over your nipples hypnotically. Gradually, slowly, your body melts into him, his bigger frame taking your weight with ease. Your voice is even choppier this time, "I'll adj-j-just."

"I know you will, Princess." Diego murmurs into your hair. Nipples now pebbled from the gentle torture, he moves on to new territory, specifically your ass. Diego grips huge handfuls of squishy flesh and kneads, lifting you to your toes. You moan into his chest, rubbing your skin on his. Backing up, he pulls you along with him, "Here, come."

Bracing your hands on those magnificent biceps, you let your fiancé manhandle you (mostly) softly. Diego backs into the shower and you're swept along with him. His hands glide higher, over your waist to settle around your upper abdomen just under your chest, and then he lifts. 

"Eep!" Your tiny squawk is met with a husky chuckle as Diego perches you on the seat in the back of the shower. The tile isn't slippery with condensation yet and you're still too short to hit the high ceiling, so you can stand easily. Conveniently, Diego's face is just above your crotch. 

"Turn around." He rumbles. The dark eyes looking up at you are black with hunger. Diego licks his lips obscenely and you whine with want. You have no idea what he's going to do and you want it desperately. The tile is cold on your nipples and you shiver violently. "Now be a good girl and show Diego that pussy."

Its been well over a year, mutual confessions of love, international travel, an engagement ring, and he can still flame your face and melt you with mere words. Your feet spread automatically and you sink your back to poke your ass out. Heat washes over your core and you realize that Diego is inhaling your scent. His groan of pleasure makes you drip. Huge hands climb your inner thighs to pull your pussy wide open to his inspection. 

Its both humiliating and excruciatingly exciting to be in this position, precarious enough that you're cautious about moving, completely exposed, all you can really do is take whatever he gives you. One large finger bumps your clit minutely and you squeak, then he uses two fingers placed on either side to retract your hood. The direct pressure of tiny circles on your clit is electrifying, but the addition of a hot tongue leisurely lapping over your entrance liquefies your knees. You're so wet that its audible over the sound of the shower.

"Baby…" You sound like a phone sex operator and it bolsters your courage a tiny bit. "Fuck, I love your tongue."

"Mmmm." Diego's growl is almost sensory overload. He licks every inch he can reach while never faltering on your clit. You can feel his nose sliding between your cheeks and it is enticing. You must have quivered if his next words are any indication, "I'll take this fat ass, too, little girl."

And he does. His right hand spreads you wide and he licks up over your asshole, the beard scrapes your pussy deliciously raw as you keen wordlessly. Diego dives back down to spread your slick higher with each lap. The textural contrasts are driving you insane. That sinful tongue presses into you with each pass, deeper and deeper until the tip dips inside. 

Everything fades away for a moment and the only thing you know is Diego between your legs. He moans and presses further, it feels indescribable. You’ve tried anal before with fingers, it was uncomfortable and did nothing for your orgasm. This feels completely different. Your hands flail, then the left reaches behind you to thread fingers into his hair. The engagement ring catches and pulls a little, making Diego jerk and sigh. Fucker has a commitment kink, the thought makes you choke.

The growl from behind you rolls up your spine and directly into your brain. Diego changes tactics to reach around your front and rub your clit the same way you do, but never stops fucking your ass with his tongue.

"I want," you whine into the wall, hips jerking. Diego rubs the goatee harder. You suck in a shuddering breath, "Wanna come. With some part of, of you. Fuck! Inside me. In-inside. Please." Your plea is met with an appreciative rumble that makes your eyes roll back. Your begging continues, "Anything, fuck, baby, please. Please please."

Diego pulls back to sink teeth into the left globe of your ass. Your yelp is muffled, but still ridiculously high pitched. He pets over your posterior, then you feel slippery fingers where the tongue was only moments ago. 

"That can be arranged, Princess. Anything...huh? What about anywhere?" His breathless taunt gives you pause. One well lubed finger presses against your rear and you truly do want it. You already feel loose and pliant, buzzing with endorphins. Swallowing hard, you nod tightly.

"Yeah." The tiny squeak of submission makes your predator practically vibrate. Diego pushes gently, you can feel the slick of lubricant, both natural and artificial, everywhere. The pressure pulses gently, each push just a tiny bit more intrusive, until the tip of his finger is inside your ass. 

"Fuck, bonita. Such a good little Princess." The rough praise only loosens you further, but you squirm with the new and odd sensations. "So tight," he continues with a groan, "You let Diego fuck this fat ass? Huh? Take it like a good girl?"

"Yeah, yeah. Oh my god, fuck." At this point you might agree to anything as long as he makes you come. Your back sags further and you gasp as his thick finger sinks in to the knuckle. Its a lot and you freeze for a moment. Diego holds steady, letting you breathe and assess. When no protest occurs to you, he resumes rubbing your clit and Oh holy fuckin' shit.

You know its only one finger, but he feels huge to your inexperienced body. Full and stretched, not in pain, necessarily, but you can't say its comfortable, precisely. What you can say is that it drives you wild to be pinned to the wall and pleasured almost forcefully. Your entire pelvis is trembling tautly, you can feel the orgasm welling up, building ever higher. Tears escape and your mouth goes without your consent. "Please, oh fuck. Pleasepleaseplease, yeah baby. Yeah. I want it. I want." 

"Pretty Princess. Go on. Come for Diego while he fucks both your holes." The finger in your ass rotates as he repositions his hand, there's a brush of contact to your folds, and then, Fuuuuuck, then two fingers slide home in your pussy.

Your entire consciousness collapses down to your core and then snaps. Waves of contractions so strong that they make your abdomen spasm wash over you. You clamp down on every part of him that's inside you and wail. The ecstasy is only compounded by your every sense being overfilled with Diego.

"Yes, mi amor. Come for me. Come all over your Diego." The possessive tone is gratifying as Diego rides you out. Your legs shake, then buckle, your upper ass lands on his broad shoulder and Diego is quick to extract his right hand. The feeling of his finger withdrawing rapidly is intensely weird. The left hand abandons your clit to catch you in the chest, allowing your limp form to slide down his front. His hard cock leaves a sticky trail up your asscrack before it comes to rest poking into your lower back. Your legs are still wobbly and you hang onto his thick forearm for balance.

"Oh god. What the fuck. What. The. Fuck." You ramble. Did I really just come with his finger up my ass??

"Bend over." The strained rumble comes as Diego is lowering your hands to the bench, folding you in half. You teeter briefly, but manage to keep your balance. Diego grips your hips sternly and thrusts his dick between your cheeks.

"Uhh, what. You're not gonna, I don't think I can take-" 

"Relax." Diego chuckles, but it is definitely strained. Those big hands squeeze meaningfully when you lean away tensely. Diego continues thrusting in long, lazy strokes as he growls, "Come on your back. Wanna see this pretty ass covered in my come."

Oh. Okay then. Your brain is too scrambled to be concerned. It only takes a dozen or so strokes before Diego is snarling and snapping behind you, painting your butt and back white. 

"Ahhh, yesss. My good girl. Perfect little Princess." He slaps your ass to produce a jiggle and you crash forward into the wall. Diego flops onto the bench beside you and pulls your cooked spaghetti form into his lap. His come smears between your back and his front, Eww.

You start giggling again. 

"Now what?" Diego asks wryly. He's limp beneath you, that big body twitching periodically. You take in his huge feet below your dangling ones, his long legs melted under your weight. The broad chest rises and falls rapidly, it jostles you gently, he's still recovering. His scratchy chin lands on your right shoulder and Diego lolls his face into your hair. Your fingers lace with his and rest on your rounded belly.

"You're so nasty." You chortle. "I fuckin' love it."

[sugar-petals]

Your First Time With Yoongi

warnings ⚠️ femdom!reader, bondage, slapping, masturbation, name-calling, cunnilingus, wow yoongi gets NASTY 

word count: 2.6k | hc

↳ ♡ NOTE › for anon who also inspired the ‘first kiss with yoongi’ post. look what you’ve done. writing this made me lose my cool. let’s dive right into it.

you’ll probably be fooling around watching miscellaneous videos from your feed 

and sorting through some clothes for the upcoming friday dinner

at the cozy italian restaurant next door

when you see yoongi come home looking, maybe not concerned, but more lost in thought

it takes a day or more until you ask him about it

brooding yoongi always means he’s weighing the big decisions

that you already know

but how it could possibly be something sexual you didn’t expect at first

because the only thing he says is that your second monthiversary is coming up this sunday

you reply yoongi that’s such a funny term

he says yeah it just made him think

it takes another day until you realize that he’s been unobtrusive letting you read between the lines how you see fit

and make that decision vice versa

it is about time to bring the relationship to a next level

yoongi sees the way you look at him

the last few weeks were proof enough he was worth giving it a go. you both knew what you were in for

as of now, you did make out a little at hoseok’s last halloween party (yoongi was in such a cute ghost costume). and kissed a whole lot during your vacation in london all lovey-dovey. but you didn’t have a chat 

so you nudge him at breakfast. what about friday?

after going out, you’ll have a whole evening to talk things over at home. no stress no pressure

agreed says your boyfriend

friday comes, you get a nice spot at giorgio’s rooftop terrace restaurant

literally it’s perfect to set the tone, the night sky is clear

after splitting the bill on antipasti for you and chili pepper pizza for yoongi the mood is right for some intimate talk and there’s no wine needed

but not in front of giorgio’s other guests alright

you return home flirting

to sit in your tiny courtyard garden with the fairy lights on

as long as no mosquitoes show up you have a long and frank conversation with a lot of surprising turns...

monthiversary sex on sunday it is

three cheers on that!

yoongi is giddy all saturday long and takes ten minutes more in the bathroom than usual, and five more in the shower

as if he isn’t dapper and groomed already

sunday afternoon, you do feel your hands getting a little sweaty yourself

the time has come

this will be exciting

you both prepare the living room for the evening, equip the center table with everything needed, eat some light snacks and drink plenty of water beforehand

the sun sets boom a leonardo dicaprio dvd goes right into the player

you’re both comfy on the sofa, intertwined, it’s fucking cute

you feed yoongi some more pretzel sticks

he makes you laugh

and nuzzles into the nape of your neck cuz cat behavior

the atmosphere slowly changes when the movie does

with leo getting all frisky and sweaty on screen, yoongi’s hands also begin to fumble at your hips, your skirt

and eventually

with you just murmuring just enough hot ideas in his ears

slip down to spend their time caressing between your legs

yep yep

the party is getting started

his hands are only shaky until they find the right spot. 

a pianist is merely on edge until he hits his favorite key indeed. and yoongi is that pianist. 

you can tell by his movements how he considers you music. now let that sink in

you’re his favorite tune 

RIP panties. those huge bony fingers know how to soak them 

phew

they have endurance, too

you already know that this will be a passionate night

leo goes through twenty character arcs on screen while yoongi is still flicking those tips

really. getting. into it. stimulating you with one, two, three fingers at once, curling, rubbing, stroking, dipping

miss clit says thank you

no finger cramps in sight with mister ‘miraculous’ min yoongi

meanwhile, poor leo falls victim to the pause button

you repeat the safeword to each other

‘two’

(because second monthiversary ok)

and here we go

flustered yoongi sits up, you pulling that FG shirt off, him then leaning against the backrest of the couch with legs splayed laxly

you climbing on top face to face

hot hot hot

yoongi wants restraints, he said. restraints he gets. a dozen feet of loose hemp rope are waiting on the table already.

you bind his hands before the chest, mainly knotting the rope around the wrists with an extra simple tie that keeps it foolproof. 

you do have safety shears on the table also

it took some time to remember the knot but it was some interesting stuff to learn

and... we’re talking yoongi’s sexy hands

what won’t you do just to see them tied fuck yes 

a kiss follows

long, deep, and increasingly lewd

only interrupted by you taking off your top and panties. the skirt stays on although it’s getting a little shoved up

yoongi remains seated as he is, starstruck as hell cuz your body has him fucked up

in the meantime you turn around to press your ass right against yoongi’s crotch

with a some more audacity right there

not taking any chances beyond this point

the poor guy

steady ruts and gyrating are sure to fry his brain with you taking all the time in the world to rub your core all over his growing boner

the skirt only provides more friction to the whole game

“you’re so cruel, please, oh my god”

someone’s worried he blows his load way too early

well oops

“take it. lil’ sucker”

you gaze back over your shoulder. sweet, suffering yoongi has his eyes closed and bites right down on his lip. 

he looks more concentrated than when he produces something in the studio i’m telling you

with your every push and rub, the tent in his blue shorts gets more upright, the fabric even more tense

and his voice whinier

and your pussy much wetter 

that’ll be quite a bit of laundry tomorrow

with every new grind you realize

better have mercy and slip a condom on before he does cum in his pants 

regardless you decide that your new favorite hobby is to tease the living hell out of him

by just how stiff he really is you can tell there are in fact two people enjoying that

holy shit when you get his pants off there’s a sight to behold

honey boy loves the cruel girls

it’s no secret yoongi is a fan of all things technology but damn he really is a master with the electric razor those are some pube gardening skills on fire

and he smells so good

and that juicy dick

is just one of a kind

UGH

the lube that’s been waiting on the couch table... will have to keep waiting forever 

hallelujah you’re dripping

“that’s... not going to be a long ride, yoongi”

“i, i know”

(just how much of a han solo is he!)

“should we wait for a minute?”

“probably better”

the boy gets the best of you it seems 

oh, sweet horniness.

a two minute TLC break gets the racing pulse down and the suspense up

admittedly just cuddly stuff with yoongi doesn’t make it any better

he. really. smells. so. good.

sandalwood, jasmine, something herbal, whatever it is, that mix makes your mind implode

“yoongi. i want you.” 

so bad.

just seeing him with his big dark teddy eyes and bound hands is kind of a fucking lot to take in okay

not to mention his voice just getting that extra deep edge when he tells you he wants you too

FUCK

the two minutes are so hard to bear, you just want to get going and ride him and hear all those slutty moans

and corrupt his every inch

as per friday evening you know yoongi doesn’t plan to fall short on the vocal department whatsoever and who can blame him. his raspy baritone is a surefire way to make your thighs tremble

and by virtue of profession, rappers aren’t known for staying silent when it comes to issues they’re passionate about aren’t they

rolling down the rubber you grabbed from the table is challenging enough because good heavens you’re touching him this way for the first time it’s just hard to believe and hard to the touch

his breath accelerates big time

you’re careful but also firm enough to ground him 

“ok, shall we?”

yoongi’s desperate hum in reply comes with two quick nods

slow, slow, slow, take it slow you say to yourself

but your wetness doesn’t lie. 

yoongi’s piano hands were like an open sesame to your walls

they went pop 

let’s get down to business bring that cock

you crave that filling BAD

when you align and slip him in with one not so steady hand cuz jesus christ you’re completely high-strung

those teddy eyes are on you like big brother 

because yoongi monitors hard for any discomfort you might have

he probably realizes that he’s not a desert-dry 9:50 PM tampon on the fifth period day when the backsides of your thighs cushion down on his loins

WHEW, THAT SLIP

better than any conditioner out there 

he’s in

it stuffs you so well, you can’t help but moan out

yoongi’s hypervigilance still hasn’t entirely faded though

“is that okay, does it hurt? is it—”

“shush, bun. watch.” testing, you give yoongi a good first bounce, far up and down, that baywatch slow motion... mother of god, your labia have a sweet time stretching around him. “it’s very okay.”

“a-alright,” he says

oh god yeah

another bounce on that. it’s already an addictive feeling

that’s what yoongi meant by ‘seesaw’

you rest your hands on his shoulders — and they’re made for that, i mean they’re just that broad — and really feel into how he glides in so nicely

with a slick and noisy plunge

gotta make sure to really savor all of those facial expressions from him ‘cause they’re pretty damn intense you have to give him that. never did you even fathom how his eyebrows could just escalate like this

yoonaerys targaryen!

that cock’s too good

so sleek. and comfortable 

advantages of having a perky lil dick 

he fills out your walls so perfectly

this is getting so heated, watching his body become so twitchy, his tied hands

with all those red blotches at his neck. 

it doesn’t take many more movements, no matter how playful the edge

that you have to pull off and enter phase 2 of TLC breaks with yoongi’s dick resting against his stomach all sensitive

this time you french kiss 

that’s how you know yoongi is not just a sucker. he’s a sucker

obsessed with nibbling at your lips and guzzling your saliva like wtf that’s not a break yoongi that’s making your girlfriend cum like new year’s eve fireworks

are all daegu boys freaky like that what is in the groundwater there?

you have to stop his hungry mouth and take a long damn breath

why is yoongi such a sex bomb

though what’s not to love about it

seriously you can’t take it much longer and he sees that 

“you wanna use your fingers, babe?”

“if you allow me,” he licks his lips, which means adding fuel to the fire, he can’t help it.

“say please.”

“please.”

you start to fiddle with the rope knots

yoonaerys targaryen soon has free hands

rope marks suit him so well, that shit just turns you on even more

time to switch it up then the final is around the corner

changing spots on the sofa, you recline, legs apart

yoongi slowly rubs you off with his flat palm to keep the pressure light

and not to overstrain his wrists too soon

then comes the infamous naughty tongue lowering down to your pelvis... nipping, swift and staccato. you have rightfully dreaded this moment because geez he hooks you on it 

next comes

the tip of his cock. i know right, good grief. guided by keen hands, rubbed against your clit, patting it, poking it, glazing it until it’s all coated all wet and pulsing like mad, what the fuck yoongi 

he makes you completely swollen

and repeat

it’s a triple t(h)reat technique adapted straight from the realms of fiery hell

palm, tongue, cock rubbing against you. palm, tongue, cock. palm, tongue, cock.

YOONGI HAS YOU SCREAMING AND WINDING

that demonic trick is guaranteed not to go on for very long 

point of no return says hiya, i’m here to mess you up girl

next turn his curling tongue comes to visit and dips between your labia

you can’t hold back anymore

and blow up in his face

whatever control there has been in your legs has now shut down entirely

yoongi has to deal with the full dose of slowly oozing jizz cuz boy he just buries his face even deeper once he sees the contractions starting

at this point he has solidified his sucker reputation

mister miraculous min just keeps eating and slurping while you cum your soul out. the pleasure is like a current taking over

making you curse

until you’re running of breath

with ‘point of no return’ handing the baton to ‘dizzy overstimulation’ you pull yoongi’s head out from between your thighs by the hair

yoongi kneels before you ruined

man... his face is dripping 

he even got cum in his lashes

“shit, yoongi!”

“please. punish, i want, i, please”

seldom that yoongi’s rapper mind says sorry i’m out like that

looking back it makes sense. who orders a flaming chili pepper pizza for date night but a grade a masochist 

cue friday evening protocol

you fumble off the very slippery condom and grip his cock by the base. hard.

with your other hand just in reach of his face

in comes a ringing slap to his right cheek

“a—ah, ah! more!”

slut yoongi is back in town and his cock really has to stay strong

because holy hell you jerk him off fast

getting greedy and erratic

yoongi cries out his orgasm with a whole white milky mess landing on his stomach, his thighs, your hand, your skirt, who knows he might have shot a constellation into the sky if it wasn’t for the ceiling

with the last drops gushing out, a giant fatigue pulls the plug on him

oh man

his hair goes in all directions. his face is slapped red, his wrists are marked, he came all over himself.

100% sex wreck 

you can barely keep yourself steady either

but you can at least reach for the soon-to-be-dirty-laundry towel on the table 

and clean up your salivating puffy teddy 

only to pull him close to you

two fucks covered in sweat all slack on the sofa, worn out

but happy

yoongi keeps on babbling and breathing hard 

seeking out closeness to your belly

you let him lie down his head on there

time to pull a blanket over the two of you right there once everything cools down

yoongi gazes up at you a bit cheeky even if he’s super tired

“kinda know what you’re thinking”

“that’s what a monthiversary has to be like”

“nothing to add”

“except: repeat tomorrow”

wrapping up the weekend all sloppy is a good luck charm for monday

“my bad. of course”

“you’re just amazing, you know that.”

“i was gonna say that to you”

safe to say that guy has your heart

“so... same time, same place, different movie?”

“sure babe i’m in”

while you both doze off, intertwined just as before  

you can’t help but think

man that was life-changing

[impala-dreamer]

Lord Hardwick

SPN FanFic

~Sam is insatiable.~

Sam x Reader

1,820 Words

Warnings: NSFW or Anyone. Extremely terrible smut. Oral, doggy, missionary. Multiple orgasms, cliches up the ass, horrible terminology, just the worst thing ever written. But also the best thing ever written. ;)

A/N: This is for @stusbunker​‘s "Bad Smut" challenge. My prompt was “Sam’s Stamina”. It was painfully fun to write. I do hope you enjoy it, baby...

Feedback is GOLD ~ My Masterlist ~ Become A Patreon 

"What are you starin' at?" you giggle, bumps in the road shaking your perky tits and making them wiggle like jello.

Sam licked his pink lips and shifted behind the wheel, taking a better grip with his left hand. "These pretty boobs, baby," he teased, lifting a finger to dip between your cleavage.

You laughed again and squeezed your arms together, giving him a better view. "You like 'em?"

"I do," he said darkly, biting his lip. "Mmm." He gave each got a squeeze and a slap, watching your soft flesh jiggle. "Makes me nice and hard."

And it was true! Looking down, you could see a meaty tent pushing at his jeans; his massive shaft desperate to break free of its metal prison.

"Oh! Sam!" You blushed and batted your eyes at him, mouth water at the thought of his beefy cock.

Sam saw your drool and smirked. He reached up and around, clasping his giant hand around the nape of your neck and pulled you down to him.

"Go ahead, sexy," he growled, rocking his hips upwards. "Suck it."

With eager fingers you opened his jeans, deftly dropping his zipper. You freed his impressive trouser snake and your eyes went huge with awe. He was big! Every time you saw it you got worried that he wouldn't fit, but you did your best.

"That's it, baby. Give Lord Hardwick a kiss."

"Oh! Yes!" you cheered before lowering your plump lips to his meat scepter. He tasted so good that you forgot to go slow, and swallowed him down in one push, nearly choking yourself as his leaking head tickled your tonsils.

"Oh, so good, baby," Sam praised, one hand on the wheel, the other on the back of your head, pushing you down. "Take it! Take His Majesty!"

The Impala swayed between lanes as Sam came, shooting hot ropes of white love seed down your throat. You swallowed it all down like a good girl and sat up, a ditzy smile on your swollen lips.

"How was that?" you asked expectedly.

Sam smirked and tucked his rattlesnake back in its house. "So good, baby." He reached over and grabbed a fist full of hair, dragging you in for a heavy kiss, his hot tongue slithering into the wet cave of your mouth, making you moan with desire.

He pushed you back as the motel exit came into view. "To be continued."

As soon as the door shut, he was on you like a wolf on his prey, grabbing you from behind and pulling you back against his firm, muscular chest.

“Oh, Sam!” you cried, shock and arousal flowing through your system. You could feel the heat pool in your core as his big hands roamed your body, cupping your breasts and slipping between your thighs.

“Nice and wet for me, baby?” he asked, husky whiskery filling your ear. He pushed three fingers up against your clit, harshly rubbing you through your jeans.

“Yes! Always, Sammy!” your voice was high and happy; his hands instantly turning you into nothing more than a stupid sex kitten. All you could think about was his pulsing sausage pistol violating your lady garden.

“Good.” He bit down on your shoulder, sharp teeth grazing your skin, making you shiver against him. You wiggled your ass into his hips and you could feel him hard and ready again.

“Again?”

Sam growled. “Again.”

He shoved you down face first onto the creaky bed and yanked at your jeans. You helped him quickly, deftly popping the button on your pants and squirming out of your clothes.

“Look at this perfect ass,” he whistled, clapping a hard hand on the fat globe of your backside. “Perfect cushion for the pushin’.”  

“All yours,” you cooed, locking your knees and arching your back to give him better access.

Sam gave you one more slap before setting loose his love rod and fisting it roughly. He pumped it twice before nudging the crown against your sausage wallet, coating it in your ever ready slick.

“Here we go, baby.”

He slammed inside without hesitation, your love tunnel always ready to take him in. He went so deep you could feel his jewels slapping against your thighs, feel the top of him up in your belly. He stretched you perfectly and you gripped the bed sheets as he rode you like a cowboy.

“Fuck, Sam! So...good...fuck!” The heat swam in your belly, everything getting hot and wet. Your thighs began to quiver against him and he thrust even harder.

“Gonna wreck this pretty pussy,” he threatened, gripping your hips so tight he was sure to leave bruises.

The headboard slammed against the wall as he vanquished your castle, his flesh sword poking your sweet spot perfectly.

“Oh, Sammy, I’m gonna… I’m gonna…” The orgasm hit you like a truck, slamming through your entire body and bursting through your veins like fireworks on a hot summer night. Lightning flared behind your closed eyes as the pleasure washed over you. It felt amazing.

“Feels so great when you orgasm on me, baby,” Sam hissed, his hips slowing, but showing no signs of stopping.

You lay on the bed, body numb from the explosive orgasm, arms dropping off the side of the bed, knees wobbling against the bottom. “Love...your...penis in me, Sam…” You could barely catch your breath before your arousal revved up again and your flower clenched around him.

Sam grabbed your upper arms and pulled, lifting you upwards to settle against his chest. His firehose never once leaving your sugar walls. He spun around elegantly and sat on the edge of the bed, spreading his athletic thighs beneath you.

“Ride me.”

You bounced on his pork stick, your dewy muffin milking him with each jump. Sam grabbed your tits, sliding his paws beneath your shirt and holding on as you worked him good.

His grunts turned you on so much you nearly came again, and fell forward as the fire crept in your belly once again.

Sam held on tight.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he growled, making your shudder over him.

“Wanna cum again…” you murmured, breath almost gone as the sweet bliss clouded your mind.

“You love to cum, don’t you, baby?”

He pinched your nipples and you went, flooding his pole with your moisture.

“Yes!”

Sam wasn’t done. Not by a long shot. His stamina was great, often going until you couldn’t keep up any longer, knocked out by his man torpedo.

He flipped you around again, dropping you onto your back on the soft bed. The blanket curled around you and Sam shoved himself between your quivering thighs.

He moved slowly, inching his way through your swollen nether lips, every gentle push bringing you closer to another orgasm. By the time he was fully seated inside, your entire body was on fire, muscles tight and shaking,

"Please!" you begged, needing him to move. "Move!"

Sam smirked and pulled all the way out only to slam back in with such force your eyes rolled back.

"Fuck me, Sam!" you shrieked, voice penetrating the thin motel room walls. "Fuck me hard!"

"Hold on, baby," he warned and then got to work.

His penis felt so good inside, filling you up like no one else could. You locked your legs around his trim waist and tried to stay conscious as he plummeted your fortress walls with his manly lance.

Just as the pressure inside hit its peak, Sam pressed his thumb against your love button and you popped, cumming hard and fast once again. Your juices spilled out over him, leaking down his thighs onto the rented bed. It drained every last drop of energy from you, but Sam wasn't done. Not yet.

He fell down over you, his delicious heaviness crushing the air from your lungs. You moaned beneath him, tongue falling from your mouth, unable to speak or move any longer, wrecked by bliss.

“So pretty all blissed-out, baby,” he whispered, sticking two fingers into your gaping mouth. Immediately, your lips sealed around him and you sucked them hard, your sex kitten mind taking over where your hunter’s brain failed. “Just like that…” Sam rolled his hips, fucking into your second set of lips with his stiff pike as his fingers invaded your mouth.

Grunting, Sam pulled his fingers away and grabbed your ankle as he pushed up on his knees, hooking your leg around his shoulder. Spread open as wide as possible, he went to town, thrusting with abandon as he chased his end.

He was far from done.

Another wave of orgasm hit you out of nowhere; convulsions shaking your entire body as you squirted a waterfall of love juices from the apex of your thighs. It coated Sam in your slick, mixing with the gorgeous sheen of sweat all over his body. He ripped his shirt away and you stared longingly at his firm pecs, wanting to run your tongue all over him and taste his salty goodness.

“Love fucking this tight hole, baby,” Sam growled, tossing his head back as he thrust harder. His chestnut locks fell like a sweaty curtain behind him and you held your breath as his beauty forced another tight coil in your core to spring free.

“God, Sam! I’m cumming!”

He dropped his kaleidoscope hazel eyes to yours and smiled. “That’s it, baby. Cum for me again. Nobody makes you cum like I can. Nobody.”

“Nobody!” you screamed, limbs flaccid as the pleasure squeezed the breath from you.  

You lay limp and spent on the ugly green comforter and Sam jerked his hips against you harder and faster until his teeth clenched with a monsterous grunt. He came hard, squirting his hot baby goo into your canal, painting your pussy walls white.

“Fuckkk!” His deep voice echoed off the 70s wood paneled walls and your hot love muscles swelled around him, draining every last drop from his sack.

“I love you so much, Sam,” you whispered as he rolled away and set his hands under his head.

“You’re pretty swell, baby,” he said, sweaty chest heaving as he caught his breath.

Aching and happy, you tucked yourself against him, snuggling close, feeling his warmth. You sighed deeply and let your eyes fall closed, finally relaxing.

Not two minutes later, Sam startled you awake, yanking at your bra, trying to free your fleshy globes.

“Sam?” you mumbled, tongue rather slack with exhaustion. “Whatcha doin’?”

He unhooked your bra with a snap of his deft fingers and ripped it away, rolling over you and fitting his lips to your sensitive nipple. He sucked hard on the nub and you trembled beneath him, the heat pooling in your center again.

“Again?” you gasped, feeling him harden against your leg.

Sam pulled away from your breast with a wet pop and looked up with a wolfish grin. “Again.”

Sam was far from done…

2019 Forever Tags:

@akshi8278 @amanda-teaches @arses21434 @because-imma-lady-assface @burningcoffeetimetravel @colagirl5 @cosicas-cuquis @cosmicfire72 @courtney-elizabeth-winchester @covered-byroses @crashdevlin @dean-winchesters-bacon @deansenwackles @deansgirl215 @dubuforeveralone @emilyshurley @emoryhemsworth @ericaprice2008 @eternal-elir @feelmyroarrrr @flamencodiva @focusonspn @gayspacenerd @herbologystudent252 @hobby27 @ilsawasanacrobat @justcallmeasmodeus​ @katymacsupernatural @lastactiontricia @maddiepants @mariekoukie6661 @meganwinchester1999 @missjenniferb @mrswhozeewhatsis @our-jensen-ackles-love  @peridot-rose @pisces-cutie @risingphoenix761 @roonyxx @roxyspearing @sandlee44 @shadowkat-83 @spnbaby-67 @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @supernaturaldean67 @supernatural-took-me-over @thehardcoveraddict @tmiships4life @wegoddessofhell @winchesterprincessbride

[need-a-fugue]

We Grow Together (8)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC

Summary: Relationships can be tough, especially when one person is a recovering-from-being-brainwashed-and-tortured former assassin and the other is an overworked mutant scientist. But hey, every couple has their struggles. Right?

Warning(s): some angst, some emotional and mental turmoil… some bad language words… much fluff

Chapter Summary: The world has been saved - check that off the list. Now it’s time to start planning for the future. But why does that feel so much harder than fighting a killer robot army? Luckily, Natasha’s around to talk some sense and help screw Tessa’s head on straight.

“I am not freaking out!” she shouts at the redhead before downing the shot of bourbon in front of her. She makes a pinched face as the brown liquid sets fire to her insides, then she holds out the tiny glass and shakes it, begging for a refill.

Natasha goes into the cabinet and pulls out two lowball glasses before settling in beside Tessa on the couch. She delicately folds her legs beneath her, leans forward to pour a few fingers into each glass, and hands one to Tessa. “I’m not judging,” she says slowly as she leans back.

With everything that’d been going on lately, most of the team has been pretty damn frazzled. The world didn’t end, which felt like a win. But a lot of innocent lives were lost when Sokovia was attacked. Jarvis got a body and became something… more, which everyone still seemed to be a bit on the fence about. Ultron was defeated. And all of the Avengers survived the battle, some coming out the other side in better shape than others. But the recovery and cleanup had only just begun, and man was it going to be a bitch to get through.

After Ultron and the other killer bots destroyed a good chunk of the tower, Tony had sped up the timeline on moving the Avengers’ home base upstate. Which meant that almost everyone was having to pack up their lives and slowly transition into the half-finished space. Natasha knew it was worse for Tessa because she had to move an entire lab and get to work on designing the new med floor, which Tony only just mentioned to her last week. And there was the more personal issue of deciding on living arrangements in the new compound – which apartment layout to get, what view was preferred, the types of amenities, and of course whether or not to take on a roommate.

For as long as Nat had known Tessa – and that was, what, four years now? – she had never known her to actually date anyone, not for more than a couple of months at a time anyway. But now she had a notorious assassin staying at her place nearly every night. And while they made no secret of their affair, they never actually publicly admitted to being in a relationship, let alone being in love. Even though both were painfully obvious.

“So…” Natasha starts, casually drawing out the word.

Tessa just looks at her with a confused quirk of her head. “So what?”

“Maybe you’re not freaking out, but you’re obviously upset. So…”

She takes a long, deep breath and leans back into the couch with her bourbon in hand. “I don’t know. I’m just… stressed out.”

Natasha lets loose with a small snort. “You thrive on being stressed out. You wouldn’t know how to slow down and relax if someone put you into a coma.” Tessa ducks her head and smiles a bit bashfully, knowing full well that Nat’s words describe her to a tee. “So what’s really bothering you? Because I feel like you’ve been… off for a while now.”

“Since Ultron, you mean?” she asks, sarcasm dripping.

“Yeah, since Ultron.” Natasha shifts into the couch and purses her lips as she thinks of something. “Since the thing with Wanda, really.”

Wanda. There is that. Tessa had gone along with the Avengers to Africa in large part because of the enhanced girl who had the ability to manipulate energy. From the rather limited amount of data that they had at the time, she was confident that the girl’s powers would be no match for hers. Turns out she was wrong. And Wanda was able to fry her brain just like the others.

“I hate that she’s here,” she mumbles into her glass as she finishes off the liquor.

Nat reaches over to hand her the bottle. “She’s just a kid.”

“A kid who tried to kill us and fucked with all our heads.”

“Not Clint’s.” Natasha sips at her drink as she pulls at a loose thread on her yoga pants. “I think he’s ready to adopt her.”

“Good. He can take her home with him.”

Nat gives her a questioning look. “You’d rather have her out in the world right now? With no one to help her hone her skills? She’s dangerous.”

“And we’re going to make her less dangerous?”

“You could.”

“Jesus,” Tessa sighs dramatically. “You sound like Steve.”

Natasha laughs. “Yeah, he said he was working on you.”

“Harassing me, you mean?”

“He thinks you’re the best one to help her, and honestly, he’s right. Your abilities are so similar… no one can identify better with what she’s going through.”

“What she’s going through?” She makes no attempt to hide the disdain in her voice. “She asked someone to experiment on her. She wanted powers so that she could exact revenge.”

“And now she has those powers and she doesn’t know what to do with them. Look, I’m not 100% sold on her either. But she’s here. She’s trying to make up for what she did. And she could be a huge asset to the team.”

Tessa gives a psh and downs some more of her drink.

Nat gives her an assessing look, gazing intensely at her friend for a long moment. “What did she do to you?” she finally asks.

“What do you mean?”

“That day, at the base, she really fucked you up,” she says, no question to her voice.

Tessa looks away as she replies, “She fucked all of us up.”

“Yeah, but I think the rest of us kind of got over it.” Tessa leans forward, reaching for the bourbon, and Natasha stops her, grabbing her hand when she wraps it around the bottle. “What did she show you?”

Tessa looks up into Nat’s eyes, sees that she’s truly interested in knowing, in helping. Natasha isn’t exactly a gossip. She’s usually more than content to be left out of other people’s drama. So the fact that she’s pressing her right now shows how much genuine concern the woman feels for her. “My sister,” she says simply, falling back into the couch cushions.

“Did you see her die?” she asks without preamble.

Tessa shakes her head and squints as though she’s trying to recall. “No. Not really. I just… saw her.” She takes a long pause, a confused and almost pained look on her face. “It was that night, though. The night she killed herself. But…” She shakes her head again, this time her eyes are tightly closed like they’re desperately trying to block something out.

“But what?” Natasha asks, extending her hand and slowly, softly beginning to stroke Tessa’s arm.

When she opens her eyes, they’re glassy and paler green than Nat’s ever seen them. Maybe it’s the bourbon. Maybe the lack of sleep and the abundance of stress. Maybe it’s the thought of a long-lost sister that she never talks about. “I wasn’t there.” She locks eyes with Natasha and repeats, “When she did it, I wasn’t there.”

“Okay,” she says, encouraging her to go as she maintains the delicate eye contact.

“But in the… vision… I was there. And I saw her.” She shakes her head and huffs out a breath. “But in the mirror. I saw her in the mirror.” She looks away quickly, almost seeming embarrassed by her words.

This time, when Tessa goes for a refill, Nat lets her have it. “You were twins, right?” She nods as she takes a long sip from her now half-filled glass. “Identical?” Another nod. Natasha leans back and sighs. “Well, that kind of makes sense, right? Our worst fears, our worst memories… that’s what she called to the surface. It makes sense that you’d regret not being there, and that in this… dream –”

“No,” Tessa interrupts quickly. “No, it wasn’t like that. It was… I don’t know how to explain it. I was her. I was Anna. And it didn’t feel… weird or anything. It felt… real.” A sudden shiver takes over her body. “I think…” but she can’t quite finish the thought. Instead she shakes her head again and then shakes out her arms to rid herself of the chill that suddenly overtakes her body. “Never mind. Just… forget it.” She looks up and takes note of the concerned look on Natasha’s face. “Let’s talk about something else. Can we talk about something else?”

Natasha changes her expression on a dime, going from worried frown to sly smirk. “Okay,” she starts. “Are you and the soldier gonna make it official?”

Tessa rolls her eyes. “I’m not sure what official means.” She shifts in her seat, seeming antsy and self-conscious. “I think… it sounds like we might share an apartment. I guess actually live together.”

Nat finishes the rest of her drink and sets the glass down on the coffee table. “You’re okay with that?” she asks, voice thoughtful and sincere. “That’s what you want?”

She shrugs. “It makes sense. He spends the night most nights anyway. It’d be dumb to give him his own place if he’d hardly even use it. And he doesn’t want to keep living with Steve… he deserves his own space back.”

She cocks a brow and gives a gentle mm-hmm. “And how does Steve feel about all of this?”

“Oh, mother Steve is very upset.” Tessa nods dramatically.

“Is he?” she mocks.

“He told James that if he loved me, then he’d marry me and not make me live in sin.” She takes one last sip and sets her glass down beside Nat’s. “They haven’t talked in two days.”

“Damn. I did not know that.” Natasha leans forward and takes Tessa’s hand. In a low, serious tone, she asks, “Is he making you live in sin?”

Tessa holds the eye contact for as long as she can before collapsing into a fit of hysterics. “Oh God,” she says through the laughter. “Will you save me?”

Natasha chuckles softly, which is about as emotive of a laugh as she ever allows. “Sounds like Steve’s already trying.”

“It’s dumb,” she says lightly, shaking her head as the giggles subside. “I know it is. We’re together all the time. He stays at my place all the time.”

“You’re completely in love,” Natasha supplies. Tessa gives her an incredulous side eye. “You’re not fooling anyone, golubushka. Sleeping with the man is one thing, but it’s so obviously way past that. And it has been for a long ass time.”

“I feel like I need wine to continue this conversation,” she says, hauling herself up off the couch and heading into Nat’s kitchen. She goes straight to the cupboard in the corner and pulls out two glasses before eyeballing the wine selection on the second shelf. “It’s so weird to me that the Black Widow’s taste in wine goes from sweet to practically Kool-Aid,” she mumbles, mostly to herself.

“There’s a Riesling in the fridge, you lush,” Natasha shouts from the other room.

Tessa wrinkles her nose. “Of course there is.” But her near disgust doesn’t stop her from grabbing the mostly full bottle of wine from the refrigerator and pouring two giant glasses.

“You know,” Nat starts, accepting the glass of wine as Tessa settles back onto the sofa, “Mixing bourbon and wine is rarely a good idea.”

“I’ve done worse,” she counters with a shrug.

Natasha raises a single brow as she looks at her friend with a smirk. “So… where were we?”

Tessa offers another shrug. “I love him, sure.”

“Sure? That does sound like love.”

“Feelings aren’t the problem.” She turns to face Nat, curling her leg up underneath her and throwing one arm over the back of the couch. She locks eyes with the redhead. “Relationships,” she says, a sort of fear and awe twisted into her voice. “That’s the part I suck at.”

“Don’t we all?” Natasha offers with a small smile. “We live strange lives here.”

“Even before here,” she says with a slow shake of the head. “I’ve always been… single minded.”

“You’re heading up the medical research lab for Stark Industries. You’re the official physician of the Avengers. And you’re not yet thirty. You don’t get here without being single minded.”

“A workaholic, you mean.”

“How about dedicated? Passionate?”

She shifts again, seemingly uncomfortable in her own skin. “It’s just… any other guy… I might’ve felt bad about not giving him my full attention, I should have. But I never really did.”

“You’ve never been in love before.”

“Oh no,” she says, eyes blown wide. “I’ve been in love before. And it did not go well.”

Nat cocks her head to the side. “Interesting…”

“Not today, no,” she responds to her friend’s fishing. That’s a looong story that’ll require more than a half a bottle of sugary Riesling to get out of her.

“Fine. But we will come back to this.”

“I’ve no doubt.”

“Are you afraid to live with him?” Natasha asks, taking no time at all to transition back to the topic at hand.

“I don’t know,” she answers honestly. “Right now, he doesn’t really have a place of his own. It’s either he stays with me or with Steve. So even though he’s usually at my place, it’s easy enough to say that he doesn’t really live there with me. But if he does actually live there… then it’s… I mean that’s…”

“Serious?”

Tessa nods, then stops short, crinkles her nose, and begins to shake her head. “It’s not just that. Or…it’s not that simple. It’s not like I’m afraid of commitment, per se.”

“Really?” Natasha asks with a smirk.

Tess rolls her eyes. “I just mean, I don’t have a problem with intimacy. Or committing to just one man. Or being in love… even though none of that has gone well in the past.” She sips her wine and stares off into the distance, focusing on nothing. “It’s… I don’t know… reliance. Dependence?”

“Explain please.”

“I can love James. I can be in love with James, and I can be intimate with him. Maybe even stay in the same apartment with him. But that’s different from being… with him.”

“How do you figure?”

“Because… I don’t know. Because if we’re together, really together, then I depend on him and he depends on me. And we’re…”

“A team?”

“Yes. I guess so.”

“And you don’t want to be part of a team.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“That wasn’t a question.” She shifts so that she’s sitting upright, and she levels Tessa with a confident stare. “When Clint first met you, you were freelancing for Genetech. Before that you were investigating – on your own – genetic anomalies. Then Clint convinced you to help out with SHIELD, which you would only do on a temporary, contract basis. Tony hired you as an independent contractor. And I know how hesitant you were to take the position as the head of the tier 1 med team. I know how long it took Tony to wear you down.”

“So you’re saying I’m not a team player?”

“Not at all. I was with you in Africa. And in Sokovia. I was part of the debrief on Mexico. I think you’re great on a team. And in case you’ve forgotten, I’ve seen your SHIELD file. So I know that you were an integral part of another pretty big team for quite a while.”

“Yeah, well…”

“Did the X-Men fuck you up that bad?”

She shakes her head emphatically. “I don’t talk about that.” She pauses for a moment, takes in Natasha’s words and says, “But… maybe it left me feeling like I shouldn’t be part of a team. Yeah. Maybe.”

“Well maybe it’s time to get over that.”

“Did Tony bribe you to try and get me on the team?”

She smiles and leans forward. “Tessa, you’re already part of the team – part of the Avengers team and, I’m pretty sure, part of the Sullivan-and-Barnes team. Whether you like it or not.”

She nods gravely and takes another drink, and the two sit in silence for a long moment. “I don’t want to disappoint him,” Tessa says softly.

“You think he’ll expect something different if you live together?”

She shrugs. “Right now, we’re just… I don’t know… we’re happy together. But – God, this is going to sound so cliché – we’ve never labeled it.”

Natasha snorts out a laugh. “Labels are for children. You don’t have to put a name to a relationship to be happy in it. You’re adults. If you’re happy together, then just be together.”

“That may be the most naïve thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

Nat merely shrugs. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m a genius and you’re just too threatened by my intellect to admit it.”

“Maybe. Doubtful.”

Natasha sets her mostly empty glass down on the coffee table and leans in toward Tessa. “You want to know what I think?” Tessa raises her eyebrows and nods. “I think that he knows you – gets you – in a way that no one else ever has. And I think that you, weirdly, get him too. And all of us in the tower think you both are disgustingly, adorably enamored with each other. And I don’t think that’ll go away because you work late and miss dinner a few nights a week, or because he leaves the toilet seat up, or because one or the other of you drank the last of the milk and put the carton back in the fridge, or whatever other ‘living together’ issues may come up.”

“I got yelled at for putting the empty OJ carton back in the fridge just last week.”

“See?!” She tenderly lays her hand on Tessa’s knee and levels her with an intense stare. “I think you’re nervous because you’re overthinking it. And if you just let go a little, which I know is crazy difficult for you, then you might just end up being happy despite yourself.”

Tessa drops her eyes and feels a hot blush slowly creep up her neck. She knows Natasha’s right. “I think…” she starts slowly, “that you’re a really good friend.” She looks back up at Nat and sees her eyes soften a bit. “And I think that we should go out and get you laid. Because you clearly have forgotten what it’s like to be with a man.”

“That might piss Bruce off.”

Tessa scoffs. “If he doesn’t make his move soon, he’s gonna piss me off. And he wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.”

[xxkellsvixen19xx]

Forget Me Not Jim Mason x Reader 50 First Dates AU Pt 1/?

A/N: Not long ago seen an ask on @michael-langdon-appreciation blog by an anon asking for a Jim Mason 50 First Dates fic, I know she is busy and got quite a bit going on so I took on the task. I decided to go not entirely by the 50 First Dates story line there will be parts of it yes but going in a bit of a different direction, this will be multiple parts. Hope you like it anon let me know what you think, as well as my followers feed back is appreciated! 💓

“Hi, l'm Jim Mason maybe you can help me? l'm looking for Y/N any idea where l can find her?” Jim walked through the boat till he made his way downstairs to the cabin, making his way to the door calling out…

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N Mason?”

She can’t remember yesterday…

When a freak accident on a storm-swept road leaves Y/N with a memory full of holes, she can't remember her own email password, much less how the little pink "positive" on the pregnancy stick got there. She's at a loss to explain what happened, or when ...or with whom. But what the mind forgets, the heart remembers. Still, it’s going to be a long, hard ride to a happily ever-after for two, plus one.

2 months ago...

Jim closed the distance between them and touched their lips together. Soft. Sweet. More intense than any kiss he'd ever given her before. Her breath escaped in a puff as he pulled back, warming his skin.

"Oh. That was nice." Y/N replied softly.

"Hmm, you ready for better than nice?"

She opened her mouth to answer, and he caught her lips separating them. His tongue eased into her mouth, and he tasted her like he’d longed to for months. Sweetness, a touch of cinnamon, but mostly her. This was far better than nice. He dug his fingers into the fabric at her hip to stop from exploring anywhere else. His other hand locked on the truck frame to make sure the only thing he used on her was his mouth.

He wanted to consume her.

Kissing was only the beginning because, oh hell, every nerve in his body had gone on high alert, especially when she curled her hands around his back and stepped against him. One leg on either side of his thigh. Bodies tight together, her warmth enveloping him along with the scent of her perfume. His head spun from even this much contact.

His throat moved as he swallowed. Whispered, “Say it's not crazy. Say this is what you want, even though I'm leaving tomorrow. " I want you,” Y/N confessed. "And it’s not crazy-not completely." She reached behind her and unhooked her bra.

Her bra joined her shirt on the floor, and that was it. Discussion over. Jim had her in his arms; her feet dangling in the air as he carried her down the hall to her bedroom. Their lips connected, the worn fabric of his T-shirt soft against her naked chest. He paused to take off his shoes, and they bounced off a few walls en route. Her legs were wrapped around his hips, her hands traveling over his shoulders and back as she savored finally getting to touch him.

Jim lowered her to the bed and stepped back. He reached over his head to grab his T-shirt, jerking it forward and off his muscular torso. His biceps flexed, chest muscles and chiseled abs clearly visible in the light streaming through the window. She admired the dark dusting of hair on his chest, another dark trail leading down into the jeans that were even now being unbuttoned, unzipped and frantically cast to the floor.

"Get naked," Jim ordered. "I want skin and nothing but skin tonight. I want enough touching to make me crazy for the next months hell even the next years.” She wiggled off her jeans and undies, staring at him in awe. "I'd ask for a picture, but your image is branded on my brain. You're gorgeous, Jim."

Jim traced the edge of her jaw to her neck, kissing his way up to the sensitive spot under her ear. Kisses and caresses, his lips on her torso as his fingers plumped her breast. His tongue tracing circles around her nipple a second before his lips closed over the tip and he sucked. A sharp, aching need shot from his mouth to directly between her legs, and Y/N could no more hold back her groans than fly to the moon.

It wasn't just one thing, it was the complete seduction. His hands on her stomach, sneaking over her belly to tease the folds of her sex. His mouth doing sinfully good things to her breasts. Y/N's heart pounded, her body growing slick as he teased her, fingers on her clit, fingers slipping inside her.

"I’m going to make you come, and this first time? I'm going to watch." Jim hung over her, his face only inches away as his hand worked her, a rapid thrust of his fingers driving her toward a peak faster than expected. His pupils dilated further as she groaned his name, her nails digging into his broad shoulders.

He kissed her breathless then vanished, sliding down her body like a human tornado. More caresses, long slow strokes –he avoided her sex for a moment, and she was glad until the continued touches made her twitch with the desire.

"Hmm, delicious." Jim opened her legs with his shoulders and dropped to tease her folds with his tongue. Gentle at first, then bolder until she was arching up to his mouth, grinding against him as he thrust his tongue deep. As he covered her sensitive clit and sucked, flicking the tip with his tongue until she broke into a million pieces.

She turned into a puddle on the mattress, barely able to focus. He snatched up the condom and covered himself, lowering over her to touch their heated foreheads together.

Jim breathed out slowly as his cock nudged her core. "You ready for me?"

Years ago. Forever. All the words she wanted to say she held back, instead simply nodding.

He slid inside, and she shook, fighting to keep her eyes open so she could add the expression on his face to the whole experience. Bliss mixed with the hunger, and a moan escaped him as she crossed her heels against his lower back. The change of position slipped him deeper so they were all-the-way connected.

Skin to skin, fully engaged as they stared into each other’s eyes. Jim pulled his hips back, and pressure skittered past sensitive nerve endings, making her entire body heat further.

He thrust forward, and again, catching hold of her hip to lift her higher. He pinned her in position as the pressure and tempo increased.

"Sweet Y/N. Oh my God, so good." Jim tilted his hips at the end of each thrust, and she gasped.  

"Okay?" he asked.

"Oh, this is..." She couldn’t breathe to get the words out, but she didn't want him to stop. "Yes, good. So good."

He kissed her, his breath hot on her cheek before he tangled their tongues, thrusting into her mouth in imitation of his cock.

Y/N saw lights sparkling before her eyes when they broke apart to gasp for air. "I’m close. Oh, Jim, how? How can this…?"

"You feel it, Y/N? How good we fit? How fucking good we are together?" He pressed her to the mattress and grabbed her thighs, looming over her and opening her in a whole new way. The changed angle increased the tension, and when he slipped his fingers over her clit, she was lost.

"Jim ..." Y/N shouted his name. She clutched her thighs as he drove in one final time, his cock held deep while her body convulsed around him.

Stars floated past her vision as he shook, his body gone taut-his abdomen, his chest, all the lovely muscles under her exploring fingers.

She closed her eyes, and everything reduced to sensations. To the touch of his lips to her cheek, the added heat as he rolled them to the side. Jim hitched her leg over his waist, rocking his hips gently as his hard-on continued to stretch her.

Y/N opened her eyes to discover his sexy smile waiting for her. That one lock of hair was back over his forehead, and she brushed it away tenderly.

"Hey." Her cheeks flushed with heat.

Jim traced his fingers over her shoulder. "Hey. That was..." His sigh screamed of satisfaction as he met her gaze.

"Trust me, you're nothing short of mind-meltingly sexy, and I want to do that at least a couple more times tonight."

To: Angeleyes@gmail.com

04:07:00 Sunday, September 13

Made it to Redondo Beach. That was a hell of a drive at the start. The storm didn't ease off until I was past Lomita. Held me up enough I didn’t get in until after midnight, so I didn’t want to call and wake you up.

I'll be gone by the time you get this message. Leaving early hours Sunday. I miss you already. I can't wait to get back so I can date you properly. Getting to share Friday night with you was a dream come true, but as hot as the sex was? I want more for us. I mean it. This is something I’ve wanted-you're something I’ve wanted-for a long time.

Baysurfer_jim@hotmail.com

p.s. I love that you used your nickname for an email address

November, Palos Verdes…

Y/N slapped her palm against the door to her small house, slamming it shut behind her. The door reopened not two seconds later. "Will you stop running away from me?" Medina demanded. "I asked a question."

"I don’t know the answer, okay? And it's pissing me off," Y/N snapped. "Oh." Medina sighed, kicking off her shoes before easing herself onto the back of the couch. She planted her feet on the seat cushion and nodded sadly. "Another of your memory gaps?"

Y/N glared over her shoulder as she draped her jacket on a wall coat hook. "Memory gaps. Such small words for such a huge, fucking nuisance."

"Hey, stop being so rough on yourself. The doctors said things should come back. Sometime."

Sometime was another not very reassuring word. Y/N stomped across the room to stand with folded arms, glaring at her friend. “Medina, I still haven't figured out the passwords to my computer. You had to help me pay my bills so my power didn’t get cut off. I'm relearning how to do the data entry at the office, which means I’m basically a freeloader with my own friend."

“I don't mind. None of us mind." Medina shook her head. “Please, stop beating yourself up. Stop acting as if, since your car wasn't totaled, you don't have the right to be injured. A few obstacles are worth dealing with until you’re back up to speed."

Obstacles. Fah. Another word that was as bad as memory gaps.

There might be holes in her memory, and lingering frustrations, but there were a lot of good things in her life. Between Medina  and her family, somehow she’d get through this rough patch, and make it out the other side.

Of course, thirty seconds later she was running to the bathroom to throw up, which erased a good portion of her optimism. It was tough to stay positive while bowing in front of the porcelain throne.

HE HADN'T EXACTLY SPED the whole way home.

Jim was sure there were a few sections of highway where he'd briefly slowed to the speed limit. When there were too many cars for him to dodge.

Since the plane dropped him off at six a.m., he'd been going nonstop. Pretty much like he'd been going for the previous two months. Working like a madman before falling exhausted into bed for a few hours to get up and do it all over again.

The good part was the blistering pace kept him from obsessing about Y/N before falling asleep. It did nothing to stop the dirty dreams that invaded his brain and had him waking with more than simple morning wood.

He wanted to see Y/N.

Driving with one hand, he used the other to check his mail. There were a mess of texts and emails in his inbox, most of it spam, but none from her. The message he'd sent to Medina moments before leaving had bounced back as well with a Message undeliverable. Recipient's mailbox is full. Fatal daemon error.

Curses drifted through his brain. He punched in Y/N's number only to have the phone die on him, the battery dead. Fine. It was more important to be there and do the next thing in person anyway.

Like sweep Y/N up in his arms and kiss her senseless.

The entire drive he daydreamed about where he’d find her. Timing-wise she should be at home, so he ignored his own place, and the garage, and took the back loop. The sight of her car in the drive made his heart leap, and he parked in the second free space in a rush, damn near leaping from the truck. Somehow he forced his feet to a walk instead of rushing her front door and bursting in like a maniac.

He rang the doorbell.

Knocked.

Rang again.

It might be rude, but he even leaned over and peered in the window, to see if she was around. A pair of shoes lay haphazardly under the hall coat rack, a small puddle of water pooled under the soles. Her coat was there-only no sign of her. He moved to knock a second time but was interrupted by Y/N's less-than-ladylike cussing. Jim  tried the front door, and it opened easily.

“Y/N? You here?" Both feet still on the outside stoop, he stuck his head around the door frame to make himself heard.

A new set of sounds greeted him, less amusing than the curses. Retching and coughing, and Jim couldn't stand it any longer. He stormed forward and headed toward the bathroom.

“Angel eyes, you okay?"

She was seated on the floor, her cheek resting on one arm as she basically clung to the toilet. Her eyes were closed, and her face twisted in a grimace as she shuddered then leaned forward and spat.

"Oh hell, you got a stomach bug?"

Or that’s what Jim intended to say. He got out the oh hell part before Y/N's eyes flew open and her gaze landed on him, all traces of nausea and exhaustion vanishing as she opened her mouth and screamed. She scrambled to her feet, hands flailing, a riot of noise and motion.

Damn.

He held out a hand toward her. “Y/N, hey, it’s okay. It's me, Jim." He ducked away from the toilet plunger she'd swung like a sword. At the same time he examined her quickly-noting her pale skin. The dark shadows under her eyes.

The business end of the plunger wavered in front of him as he took in her extremely short-cropped hair, the H/C strands that usually would have covered her shoulders only about an inch long over her entire head. It was a radical change from before. Kinda cute, really, but unexpected.

"Jim?" She squinted, her head tilting to the side and making her rather adorable. Well, adorable if she weren’t still threatening him with a toilet cleaner.

He took hold of the handle and tugged the shaft from her fingers, putting the weapon back in its place. "Yes, Jim."

"I don’t remember this at all," she muttered. "You're not you."

He laughed, and then caught her as she swayed. "And you must be running a fever or something."

She squirmed out of his arms and backed away slowly. "No fever. My stomach's upset. Feels better now." She looked him up and down quickly. Utter dread joined the disappointment in his gut.

He headed back to the living room, pausing to remove his boots and wipe up water from rain he'd tracked in during his mad rush to help her. That’s when he noticed there were other changes in her house since September. A lot more stuff for one thing. Fabric and paintbrushes in the hall, a stack of clothes draped over a chair in the kitchen besides a sewing machine. He had to move aside a pile of what looked like jigsaw puzzle pieces before he could sit on the couch.

Jim rose to his feet as she approached a few minutes later. "Better?" She waved away his concern. "Fine. Just a touch off for a few days." He couldn't wait any longer, closing the distance between them. If she was sick, that eliminated a too-personal welcome home, but that was okay. They'd leapt in at the start. Now he could go a little slower. Care for her. Take his time to make sure they had a solid foundation. He caressed the peach-fuzz softness just above her ear, stroking gently. "I like your hair."

Y/N touched her head self-consciously. "It’s okay. It's grown a lot since the accident." The bottom fell out of his stomach. "Accident? What accident?" She snorted before jerking to a stop, the golden flecks in her E/C eyes flashing at him in the light. "You're serious. You didn't know I went into the ditch?"

He grabbed her hands tight. "I had no idea. Y/N stared at their joined hands, her mouth hanging slightly open. "Umm, Jim. It's okay. I mean it happened two months ago." Her unease increased, and her body grew stiffer. Instead of curling up against him like he'd hoped, she withdrew, and the whole situation grew more awkward by the minute.

When she pulled her hands free, he let her go. Let her increase the distance between them. She was leaning on the wall opposite him now, a good five feet between them. Jim felt wrapped in cotton. "So...how do we get from your great ditch driving to your hair being cut off?"

Y/N took an enormous breath and let it out slowly. "They told me I bumped my head. Hard enough they shaved my hair off so they could attach test thingies.  After a week's testing when nothing showed up on their machines, they told me I was fine."

Jim was the one frowning now, his entire body tensing as he slipped the clues together. "You keep saying ‘they told me'. You don't remember the accident?"

She shook her head, frustration obviously rising. "I don’t remember the accident, plus there are a few other gaps. I lost a ton of long-term memory as it relates to math-passwords, formulas and things like that. So it’s nice you sent me an email, but I never got it. I had to set up a new email account because I couldn't get into the old one."

His jaw had to be hanging open, and his feet were pinned in place now, hands dangling uselessly by his sides. Y/N had lost her memory?

Had she forgotten them? If so, she'd have forgotten what they'd done. What they'd planned. It would explain so much in terms of her discomfort with him-more than only nerves at having him back around after a long break.

He forced himself to speak even though his mouth had gone totally dry. "So...this amnesia. How extensive is it?"

Y/N shrugged. "A couple weeks before the bump are fuzzy or gone-I'm not sure now what are real memories and what are things I've been told."

"A couple ..."

It was true. In one swoop their future was rearranged. He wasn't  about to pick her up caveman-like and tell her that they were another thing she'd forgotten.  Not when she was still fighting frustration along with whatever else had her at less than one hundred percent physical health at the moment. He also had no intention of letting her get away. The dilemma of how to move forward threw him into a tailspin.

As out of control as a car skidding into a ditch.

Credit to @carolthors formally Skyofsong

[lolabean1998]

Ali-cat part 6

Sweet pea Fanfic

“She has never been you’re daughter, you left her mother for dead so don’t you dare start that!” Fp bellowed, rage oozing from every syllable. “You lost the right to call her your daughter when you left her mother pregnant and beaten by sweet water river!” Ali couldn’t believe what she was hearing, her heart shattered into a million pieces as Fp spoke, how did she not know this? All she wanted was to wrap her arms tight around her poor mum and never let go! Stitch snarled savagely taking a step towards Fp.

“That child belongs to me, MY blood runs through her veins, Not yours!” He growled, his voice deep and threatening. Ali felt a surge of a adrenaline flood her body, rage and hatred for this man taking hold of her as she got to her feet pushing past Fp and Hog Eye to stare into the cold eyes of her father.

“You Are NO Father of mine! You dare come any where near me or my mum EVER and so help me god, the serpents will be the least of your worries!” Ali threatened her voice shaken with rage, her face crumpled into a look of hatred and disgust. She wasn’t messing around. “DO YOU UNDERSTAND! I WILL FUCKING TEAR YOU TO SHREDS.” She bellowed making every one stop and stare at her sudden outburst, faces filled with shock and disbelief. “After all the only thing scarier than the devil, is his offspring. You have one chance so if I was you I’d run whilst I still have the use of my legs.” Ali spat coldly, she stood her ground her body  language strong and threatening as she stared down the man in front of her.

“You heard the girl, next time we won’t be talking.” Fp backed her up moving to put a supportive hand on her shoulder, Hog Eye doing the same on her other side. Stitch spat at the ground by their feet before turning and strolling arrogantly out the door, trying to hide the defeat he had been dealt.

The moment the Ghoulies had left, Ali’s legs went to jelly causing her to collapse in a heap on the floor, shaking all over. Fp and Hog Eye dropped to her side, grinning proudly at her.

“I could really use that shot now!” Ali looked up at Hog Eye and Fp apologetically, sending them into a raging fit of laughter.

“You could do with more than a shot Ali!” Hog Eye chuckled heartily, helping her to her feet and guiding her to the nearest seat.

“I think it’s safe to say this girl has just earnt herself a tattoo and a jacket, what do you say?” Fp roared cheerfully to the gang of serpents still stood star struck at what had just happened, the bar filled with cheers and hollers as its members agreed, glasses and bottles raised to Ali. 

“Oh god! What about my mum? She’s going to be furious about me joining a gang!” Ali exclaimed her face filling with fearful horror, her mum was everything to her, she’d never do anything to upset or hurt her. Hog Eye spat his drink at her comment choking heavily on his swig of beer.

“She’s one of our oldest members! She can finally stop hiding her tattoo, she’s going to be thrilled!” He coughed trying to clear the remnants of beer from his lungs. Ali stared at him both shocked and confused, there was no way her mum would keep something like that from her. Although now that she thought about it, it did explain a lot, why she didn't freak when Ali told her she going to work in the serpent den and how she got the job in the first place.

“She’s on her way now, I sent for her just after I brought you here.” Fp informed Ali, giving her a warm grin and a large mug of coffee. After what seemed like a life time Ali’s mum finally arrived closely followed by Toni, Fangs and Sweet pea, since they had been the ones to fetch her. Her mother burst through the doors dashing to her daughter, her face full of pride and worry, a snake branded leather jacket hanging over her smart lawyers suite. She engulfed Ali in a huge mother bear hug, squeezing tight and smelling Ali’s hair her mum could finally breath a sigh of relief.

“Are you ok? Did he hurt you?” She fussed holding Ali’s face in her manicured hands, Fp choked at her questions.

“Hurt her? She damn near killed him!” Fp exclaimed setting his drink safely on the table, “She’s got fire I’ll give her that, just earnt her rightful place in the family that girl. Straight up threatened him and his group of stalkers.” Fp stated. “It’s Good to see you Soph, its been a while.” he smiled handing her a beer. Sweet pea stopped dead in his tracks when he heard Fps words. She was a serpent now. 

Sophie had finally stopped fussing over her daughter and was now sat catching up with Hog Eye and Fp. Ali, Toni and Fangs had moved to the pool table talking about the events of the day whilst Sweet pea stood in the corner watching Ali beat Fangs at pool. He was still wrapping his head around what had happened, the thought of some one threatening Ali sending cold shivers down his spine, his heart racing at the thought of her getting hurt, he didn’t understand what he was feeling entirely, it was an odd mixture of fear and rage but the was something else he was feeling too, he just couldn't put his finger on it.

“You know, if you talked to her you’d feel a lot better!” Toni’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts, she was stood beside him looking over at the heated game between Ali and Fangs. “You’d also lose that dumb ass look on your face.”

“I don’t have a dumb ass look!” Sweet pea defended looking down at his small pink haired friend, “I just don’t get it, this girl just ... ugh.” He groaned sounding a little defeated, unable to finish his sentence, Toni looked at her confused friend and chuckled.

“Get out of your head? Or your heart?” She asked with a subtle chuckle, Sweet pea looked nervously down at his feet heaving a huge sigh before sighing.

“Both.” He muttered barely above a whisper, desperately avoiding looking directly at Toni.

“Go over and talk to her, she could use a hug, a proper hug. A hug no one else hear can match.” Toni advised him wisely before shoving him forward and walking behind him so he couldn't chicken out. Ali’s face lit up when she saw Sweet pea reach the table, her heart skipping a beat as he smiled back at her. Fangs and Toni stood grinning at the pair, they had watched in cliff hanging agony as these two had low key flirted for weeks. There had been several moments when Fangs had been close to knocking his best friend over the head as his constant pining over this girl drove him to the edge.

“You ok Ali?” Sweet pea muttered wrapping his arms around her, swallowing her in a bear hug. Ali buried her face in his leather jacket, his sweet scent swimming around her as she wrapped her arms around him, fresh tears springing to her eyes. She had needed this for so long, she felt warm and safe, like nothing could ever harm her again. “You realise this means I’m now giving you a lift everywhere right. You can’t be trusted to stay out of trouble.” Ali giggled looking up at him through her tear stained eyes.

“It’s still 2-1 to me.” She teased stepping back, Sweet pea looked down worriedly at the tears running down her cheeks gently wiping them away. 

“Seriously Ali-cat, are you ok?” His voice was soft but demanding, he needed to know that she was ok, more than he needed to breath. He felt as if his heart would stop dead if she didn't answer, the need shining in his eye’s as he spoke.

“I’m better now, thanks to you.” She smiled warmly before turning to Toni and Fangs who were watching in awe at the other end of the table. “But I most definitely won’t be ok if I lose this game.” She grinned moving past Sweet pea to take her shot, squeezing his hand reassuringly as she went.

Sweet pea spent the rest of the night at Ali’s side watching her win game after game. Eventually getting tired and taking a break Ali went outside to get some fresh air and wake herself up but the days events had been overwhelming and she was exhausted. She was sat on the bench by the back door staring up at the night sky when sweet pea came to join her.

“You look like hell,” Sweet pea declared sitting beside her, Ali leaned into him sleepily.

“I’m fine just a little sleepy is all.” She yawned making sweet pea chuckle, she was barely able to keep her eyes open.

“Come on, you can stay at mine for the night. Your mums got a lot of catching up to do.” Sweet pea murmured, picking Ali up and carrying her bridal style to his bike placing her carefully on the seat. “I need you to stay awake a little bit longer ok?” He climbed on behind her, making sure she couldn’t fall off the back if she got to tired, before starting the engine and disappearing down the road to his trailer. 

Ali wandered sleepily over to the couch, her body felt like a led weight and she was desperately fighting with her eyelids which were determined to stay closed. She collapsed onto the worn old couch shivering a little as she lay down. “Thank you Sweet pea, you’re not as big and scary as you make out to be.” Ali whispered curling up ready to sleep on the sofa, Sweet pea shook his head and chuckled at her comment.

“Ali-cat what are you doing?” He breathed, watching her trying to get comfortable on the lumpy cushions. 

“Trying to get comfy, what does it look like?” Ali groaned trying to fluff up a very flat pillow with no success. “You’re not the brightest cookie in the jar are you?” she yawned finally giving up with the pillow and folding it up instead. Sweet pea shook his head striding over to her and scooping her up in his arms, carrying her to his bedroom. “Are you trying to take advantage of me Pea? It won’t work, I’m not like the other girls, I’m not a slut.” 

“Relax princess, I’m just moving you to the bed. You didn’t seriously think I’d let you sleep on the couch?” Sweet pea replied placing her gently on his much comfier double bed and tucking her in. “That thing will cripple you trust me. Good night Ali-cat.” He whispered before heading towards the door but Ali’s hand shot out grabbing his arm faster than a snake could strike, Sweet pea whipped round, her movements making him jump a little.

“Where are you going? You said the sofa’s uncomfortable and I’m cold so you have to stay and keep me warm.” Ali mumbled gently pulling him towards the bed. Sweet pea smiled, his heart felt as if it might explode and her touch had sent fireworks shooting through his entire body. He climbed in beside her gritting his teeth as the smell of her perfume drifted over him, it was intoxicating. Ali immediately snuggled into his arms, her head resting comfortably on his chest and her legs intertwined with his own. “Made you jump.” She smirked, the rise and fall of his chest sending her into a deep sleep, Sweet pea kissed the top of her head wrapping his arms tightly around her waist. He wished this night would last forever, as did she.

@soffie-toscana @everheart12 @lady1505 

Masterlist

[angelofthenightposts]

The Perfect Dad.

Bill and the reader take childbirth class 

More of Bill Skarsgard.

You're pregnant, but it's not the cute kind of "Oh, I'm pregnant, but my belly isn't that big, and I can still fit into my jeans." No, you're in the third trimester, and it's worse than the first two. Yes, the morning sickness and nausea are gone, but you now have swollen ankles, painful backaches, and strange cravings. During your pregnancy, you became more curious, and with maternity leave, you could spend your entire time reading parenting books or shopping online. The baby has more clothes than you and Bill have in your walk-in closet combined. You've always been eager to learn new things since you were a child, but now it's more important than ever. 

If you want to be a good mother, you must know every detail about pregnancy and parenthood, or so you believe. You open a new tab in your laptop's browser and type in the website that your heavily pregnant friend suggested you look at. As you scroll down the page, Bill enters the living room carrying two mugs of green tea. It was a bummer when you realized you had to give up a lot of things for your baby, and one of them was coffee. Your OB-GYN informed you that there is no harm in enjoying a cup of green tea, and you and Bill have used it to satisfy your caffeine addiction.

“Bill, baby, look what I found.” You tell him as he places the mugs on the table and leans over your left shoulder, kissing your temple. He raises his eyebrows at the screen; it's a page about childbirth classes, with detailed course content ranging from pregnant yoga to baby care. He takes a sip and smiles as he points to a picture of pregnant women doing yoga.

“Oh cool, it says here that they can help you with back pain. I think you should book it, yeah.”

“You're joining me.” You respond before getting a big sip from your own cup.

“Well, I don't think I need to learn anything new. I grew up with a large number of siblings. I can take you there-“ He pauses in mid-sentence; with pregnancy, you become a hot-tempered and stubborn person, and you start bickering about unimportant things that you didn't care about before. And right now, when you snap your head at Bill, he knows better than to say anything else. He averts his gaze and says, "When can we begin?"

//xxx//

You enter through the door your husband has held open for you, and Bill follows you in, sighing and looking around. The blue and pink colors appear to have been vomited at the walls. Every wall is covered in baby posters and pregnancy tutorial banners. He locks his gaze on you, as he wants to see if you feel the same way about the location as he does. And the similar expression on your face makes him sure that you do.

“Welcome to Joy in Birthing, and my name is Jessica.” This stagey, cheerful sound breaks your telepathic bond, and you both turn your heads to look at her. She is a young woman, probably in her mid-twenties, with a big smile on her face, as if everything is fine or she has no emotions other than happiness. She turns to look at your belly, which is hidden beneath a t-shirt with a funny pregnancy pun. “How is our lovely mother doing today?”

She hands you some papers to sign shortly after you inform her that you are here for the course. She receives the papers and offers you new t-shirts with the company logo printed on them. You both smile politely at her and grab the shirts to put on over your clothes. She leads you to the large room and tells you that you made a wise decision. You thank her and look around the room, which is packed with pregnant women and their partners. You're not sure why, but it feels like a race to see who can make the most beautiful baby; Bill intertwines your hands and you can tell he's nervous as well. As he helps you in sitting on the colorful cushions on the floor, you notice that there are quite a few eyes on you two; they most likely recognize who your husband is. Instead of wondering how so many of them managed to stay skinny, you begin to read the brochure in your hand. Bill, on the other hand, sits next to you and keeps his gaze away from the other people in the room; he doesn't want to be here today. He puffs out his cheeks and fixes his gaze on the breastfeeding poster on the wall.

“Baby, stop pouting like a child. Remember, we're here for our child?” You tell him that you're sure there's something he can learn today. But he insists that he knows everything there is to know about children because he grew up in a large family with many siblings. “I just want to make sure we don't hurt him.”

He tilts his head and looks at you; your hand rests on your belly, and your eyes are already welling up. He bites his bottom lip and realizes you are in one of those states where emotions and hormones are running high.

“We are not going to hurt our child, baby,” he says as he leans in and places his hand on top of yours. “I assure you that we will not. Plus, do you remember how good we are at babysitting my niece?” You want to tell him that it isn't the same thing, but before you can say anything, a middle-aged woman who you later learn is an instructor enters and greets everyone.

“Hello and welcome all of you! Before we start, I'd like to introduce myself. My name is Evelyn. Thank you all for coming to our class today and congratulations on your pregnancy.” She briefly discusses the course details before taking her seat in front of the projector's large screen. “I'd like to begin by discussing the early stages of pregnancy. “She starts talking about body changes and hormones, which quickly bores Bill and causes him to sigh. He isn't here to find out where the babies come from, but you listen to every word as if you hadn't been researching for months.

"Moms have difficulty moving with their weight and experience pain. And it is the spouse's responsibility to alleviate the pain. I'd like you to sit across from our lovely mothers. Let us begin by massaging the feet, which bear the entire weight of the body." You quickly remove your sneakers and smile at your husband, who is accustomed to giving you massage. Before he smiles, he places your left foot on his knee.

"I could do it at home anyway," he says as he presses his hand against the middle of your foot, "We didn't have to come here." You shush him; he despises being shushed, but there is no other way for him to stop whining.

Bill is now sitting next to you after about twenty minutes of massaging different areas of your body. You turn your head and see that he is still uncomfortable with the birth video you all just watched, and the expression on his face makes you laugh, you place a small kiss on his left cheek. He moves the corner of his lips upwards as he averts his gaze to look at you.

“New parents who are expecting their first child are always nervous at first. I know some of you feel unprepared to care for a baby. So we'll be working with this toy baby now." Evelyn lifts a cardboard box containing toy dolls and gives one to each couple sitting on the floor. While you examine the clothes and other items in the package, Bill stares at the horrifying baby. He lifts the doll and mutters, "Creepy." You laugh and roll your eyes at his antics, taking the baby from his grasp and placing it in your lap. He is correct, however; it appears so realistic for a toy, and if that isn't enough to freak you out, it has those huge dull blue eyes.

” Do we have a confident father to come here and set an example for the others?” There is complete silence; no one makes a sound, and you look at your husband. You know he's a good babysitter and is generally self-assured in everything he does. His eyes are challenged by yours, and he shrugs before volunteering. Evelyn invites him and Bill winks at you as he stands up and walks away.

He and Evelyn demonstrate how to properly hold and feed the baby to others. And the more Evelyn compliments him, the smugger Bill becomes. He even gives you a look that says, "See, I told you." It's time to learn how to change a diaper, and Evelyn tells Bill to put the toy back on the changing table.  He nods and does as he is instructed. But after a few seconds of attempting to take its onesie, he fails, and you can tell he's frustrated. With that, he does something that makes everyone in the room hold their breath: he drops the baby doll to the floor. He timidly apologizes to the class before picking it up. As he looks around the room, you give him a thumb up. Something about his demeanor shifts; he no longer appears to be as confident and cool, and you frown at him. He looks over the table, his gaze wandering to the baby cloth, baby powder, and wet wipes. He shakes his head and tries to regain control of his mind while trying to remember the instructions; he pulls out one of the wet wipes.

“We'd rather wipe the poop this way, Bill. Inadequate cleaning can lead to infection or worse.” Evelyn takes the wet wipes and shows Bill and the others how to use them properly; he watches carefully and then moves on to the next step, which is dressing the baby back. But no matter how hard he tries, he can't get his leg into the onesie hole. Normally, he would take care of his nieces and nephews easily but now he is beginning to doubt himself. Perhaps he isn't an expert, he reasoned to himself. What will happen if he has to care for your child? What if he injures your child while dressing him?

“Do you want me to assist you?” Evelyn's question snaps him back to reality, and he shakes his head no. He's got this, it's simple, he thinks. He takes a deep breath and tries again. But he must have used a lot of force because the toy's plastic leg breaks apart. When someone in the audience boos him, he looks at you, the most important person in the room.

“I'm sorry, but I can't.” He begins to walk to the exit, unconcerned about the people in the crowd. He walks past you, and you gather your belongings, such as jackets and water bottles, and leave the classroom after Bill.

You find him sitting on a bench outside the building, his elbows resting on his knees and his face buried in his palms. You suck your bottom lip and take small steps up to your husband.

”Bill, baby, are you all right?”

“Sorry for embarrassing you in class.” He tells you as you sit next to him, but he keeps his gaze away from you on purpose.

You frown and press your hand against his knee. “What are you on about?”

He rolls his eyes and turns to face you, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "I was a complete failure back then. How can I care for our baby when I can't even handle a doll? Our son will hate me."

"Bill, please don't say things like that. What has just happened does not imply that you will be a bad father. Don't be too hard on yourself because you dropped a stupid toy.” He sucks in a shaky breath, almost as if about to cry, and it makes your eyes well up as well. Your thumb caresses the soft skin of his left cheek as you cup his pouting face. His green eyes finally meet yours, and you give him the most reassuring smile you can possibly manage. “You will be an excellent father. Our son is extremely fortunate to have you as a father."

"Do you really believe that?" Finally, a small smile appears on his lips, and you kiss him.

“Can we have ice cream now that our perfect daddy is feeling better? I'm craving something sweet." He grabs the bag and strokes your belly with the other hand before nodding and standing up. He feels stupid for believing he'd be a bad father. He has a wife and a son to cherish until the end of his days. He hopes they will love him as much as he loves them.

[sweetwinther7-blog]

Here's What You've Got To Know When You Are Buying Your First Custom-tailored Suit

In case you have the choice of paying to get a"higher level" that includes extra fittings, do it to your first suit. You should not have to do it back, As soon as you have your pattern locked down and also your future orders will be a snap. B. Half Canvassed: a better way of building that takes time and hand work. A canvas"torso piece" is strategically sewn between the front desk and facing from the shoulder to the lapel roll line, giving the jacket some internal structure within the torso making it more permanent and body forming over time, without giving it a"stiff" feel. You should only require a one or two fittings based on accuracy and the standard of this pattern-making if you are not far in an off-the-rack size. #1: Fabric stems first Then a new suit will not cause you to seem like George Clooney unless you want George Clooney. A fantastic store will keep a paper (or digital) pattern on file for you, and tweak which pattern every time they create you a new garment or change one of your older ones. When a salesperson tells you the Cellular ntire lawsuit is sewn by hand, however, I would be skeptical. Very few tailors will spend some time hand-sewing straight lines is prestige, in which the cost would outweigh the only true benefit and the advantage. #2: Trust no one #7: Prevent trends such as the plague The most usual deception in the business is the place of producing -- i.e. shops that say their garments are"Made On Website" when really they're not. It is also the most versatile suit and also a wardrobe staple a person can own. You may use it to the workplace, into a wedding, into an evening occasion, as a blazer with jeans, as a pair of trousers with another jacket, etc.. You need your new investment(s) to last 5-10 years (depending on how difficult you wear your clothing), so keep the proportions classic and also avoid anything"of the second". I feel bad for guys who ordered cropped jackets with lapels that are razor thin two decades past who are reluctant to utilize them. The exact same will happen to the guys today, ordering oversized lapels. There are hundreds of"bespoke" stores popping around. Below are a few questions you should request to narrow down the list of shops in your region. If you already have a solid base and want something specific, do not be scared to deliver an image reference to show your salesperson. #9: Obtain the fundamentals, then build on them It's almost always a fantastic idea. By comparison, Italian tailors tend to favor lighter cloth, smaller allowances (closer to your system ), a greater gorge and also a more"flexible" construction (softer shoulders, less cushioning, and so forth ). Choosing a Clothier #11: Just take good care of your investments If possible, take your coat off when eating, flying or doing something active. Invest in quality wooden hangers with large shoulders that fit your coat properly. A good tailor should provide these. Hang the lawsuit on a proper hanger in an airy location immediately after taking it off. Try to not wear the same suit back to back days, particularly in warm weather or precipitation. The trousers will inevitably wear out quicker than the jacket. If you're hard on these, you are given the option of adding second pair by most tailors. -- Dark colours are sliming. -- Pinstripes will be your very best friend. -- A deep button posture will visually lengthen your physique. -- Go with peak lapels to draw the eye upward and maintain them in proportion with your broad shoulders. -- Pick side adjusters over belt loops to keep things streamlined. You might also use the very same braces hint described above in the"Tall & Heavy" tips. -- Hem the pants with an extremely light split, but leave a small room through the leg too slim can make you look top-heavy. -- Go with a thick cloth for durability, however an unlined jacket for breathability. A second set of trousers might be a fantastic idea. -- Attempt shorter dispersed collars (and bigger tie knots) to correspond with your own shorter wider neck. -- Avoid pinstripes but do not be frightened of a subtle test or glenplaid fabric. Patterns will add elegance, as will lighter colors. -- When a double breasted jacket isn't overly style-forward for youpersonally, it will effectively extend your frame. -- Do not go too skinny, a little room will add some weight and balance your proportions. -- Move with a medium to complete fracture and cuffs over the pants to break up your aerodynamic form. -- A slightly wider notch lapel with a lower gorge line is your very best choice. -- Don't be afraid of a little cushioning at the shoulders to add some existence (this does not mean that a wider shoulder). -- Keep the pockets straight, not slanted, and utilize a ticket pocket to fill a few vacant space. -- A lengthier jacket is slimming, a shorter jacket is lengthening...take for the middle ground, just past the cup of the seat. -- Use horizontal beams such as a belt, folded pocket square and tie bar to bring a number of visual cues. -- A marginally higher button stance can offset your length (however you don't require a 3 button coat...nobody does). -- Go three piece, a vest can incorporate some heft. -- Straight top collars will agree with your framework and fill vertical distance. C. Entirely Canvassed: the most time consuming system to tailor a jacket. A full-sized coating of canvas has been inserted between the front panel and facing, giving the level of rigidity and construction to the coat. This canvas leaves the lower coat hold a strong sturdy form and provides the overall a garment a more organized drape. 4. How much handwork is done about the garment? Improve Your Look With All These Small Methods for Choosing a Suit think that the larger the thread count (or even"super" number), the greater the cloth. This is not always correct. This amount, which signifies the amount of fibers spun into a unit amount of cloth, indicates simply the"fineness" of the fibers. It may thus be employed to estimate the"hand feel" and sheen of this fabric, but what is more important is its inverse relationship with durability. However, in the contest you're going with a tailormade, here is a guide to making the most of your investment. If you have any questions after studying, please post them in the comments section and I will do my very best to respond. For maximum versatility that is year-round search for some thing in a moderate colour. In almost any business in which you pay before you perform, ensure that there is some sort of satisfaction warranty . -- A much lengthier jacket will visually elongate the body. -- Darker colours are sliming, as are pinstripes. -- A profound button stance will create a stronger"V" shape, accentuating the torso and masking the stomach. -- Yup you can put on a slim fit...that does not mean"tight" or"restrictive". -- Sit the trousers throughout the belly, not under it, and utilize braces/suspenders to"float" your waist. -- Go with a larger peak lapel to draw the eye upward and proportionally cover your shoulders. -- Leave a little room in the trousers so you are not improving the girth of your upper body, but you do not require a huge sloppy break at the bottom. -- Slanted pockets, even in theory, draw the eye down and are slimming on the physique. -- Utilize a ticket pocket to fill some distance from the midsection. -- Move with double vents. Since side vents are not as obvious than a center one dividing, the jacket can be cut a bit thinner in the hips. -- Odds are, you are tough on your clothing. Elect for a thicker, stronger cloth but shed the liner to avoid overheating. Another pair of pants might be a great idea.

-- Spread collar shirts ought to be paired with bigger tie knots (such as a windsor or dual windsor), and both are best for a big neck. Hand sewing # machine stitching is sort of like a home cooking vs. microwaving. The grade is not the same, although the finish product is similar. The area of quality menswear fabrics is a little one with few important players. An adequate bespoke store should have relationships with vendors who supply a variety of fabrics from established English and Italian manufacturers such as Dormeuil, Holland & Sherry, Scabal, Zegna, etc.. Care tips: As an additional bonus, a costly custom suit will probably be your motivation. In the event you shed weight, taking-in (making smaller) is easy, within reason. Should you gain weight, then a fantastic customized suit ought to be made with excess seam allowance beneath the stitching lines to allow the garment to be more let-out (made larger ), again, in reason. Flatter Your body kind 5. Exactly how many fittings would I need? For your suit, think about something with a small texture or pattern that's flexible and can be readily broken up and worn as a blazer or even a pant that is seperate. Once navy, the next suit I urge is that a 4-season (8-10 ounce ) solid grey wool wool. Wait till you reach a steady weight which you are contented with before buying custom garments if you plan on going through a major body modification. And make sure it! If it is possible to find a shop that provides ARISTON fabrics, I highly recommend them. A family owned mill out Naples, they produce luxury fabrics having the and tasteful designs in the sport. I use them for all my orders that are own. As a brand new feature on the site, moving forward I'll be including the fabric ID numbers in the clothes credits for my own suits and to solve the problem of imagining how a swatch will appear as a product. But if the garment simply needs a"refresher", have it steamed or pressed (which is significantly more affordable than cleaning and efficiently cleans it using steam and heat anyway). #3: Know the shop's"house cut" In addition, don't variable if you don't love them and they fit. 90 percent of guys prevent after moving habit, wearing their off-the-rack suits. The difference in cutting on fashion may fluctuate from 1 tailor to the next in the exact same city. As an instance, tailors in midtown manhattan have a tendency to generate a more conventional garment with British accents targeted toward an elderly customer base, whilst downtown shops generally cut a more Italian-influenced, marginally"edgier" garment to get a younger crowd. Tall & Skinny #10: Have realistic expectations Other inner inputs like chest and collar canvases, shoulder pads, sleeve heads, collar felts, etc. are difficult to differentiate in a finished garment, till you have worn it for a few months and dry cleaned it several times. You are going to have to trust that the salesperson on these things, and use your own decision based on. 2. What about trims? I tend to run hot (and despise perspiration when I am wearing a suit) so that I get most of my coats unlined (see the image above). Most wools breathe it's the. Not only does this help keep me cool, but also feels less restrictive on my spine and lighter. It can be cut a hair thinner due to the lost layer. My favorites are khaki cotton for your spring/summer along with tweed for its fall/winter. The one pictured here is a weekend blazer, along with the perfect pair of khakis. A store with good attention to detail (which can be crucial in this industry ) should use top quality trims to go along with their luxury fabric offering. I am referring to genuine horn buttons, durable bemberg linings (beware of anything using a raised surface, like a jacquard, that may rub and tablet computers over the years ), RiRi or YKK zippers, etc.. Every store has their own opinion on how a lawsuit ought to be a cut to enhance the body of a man. #8: Do not get trapped in ribbon counts Short & Skinny An important note about gray: a lighter colour, such as the one pictured here, is far more suitable for Spring/Summer (or warmer climates) whereas a darker gray is preferable for Fall/Winter (or warmer weather). Muscular/Athletic 7. What if I'm not happy with the final product? In case garments aren't even close on you, you could need 3-4 trips. There are trade-offs when it comes to comfort if you want a look that is very slender. You will feel that the lawsuit and shed a tiny array of motion. If you aren't accustomed to tailoring, there may be a brief adjustment period here. Keep in mind the only means to make it"roomier" is to make it bigger, hence losing some shape. In my instance, I love to feel my coats against my own body just a little. Generally speaking, dry wash your suits as infrequently as possible (only when their dirty from spills or perspiration ). Dry cleaning is really a compound wash that damages fabric scraping away the surface layer. -- The bigger your muscles, the more pressure you will place on the lawsuit. Use a cloth in which you have problems, made if they could reinforce the seams, and request that the tailor made. -- Utilize the lowest potential shoulder pad, or even none in any respect, and minimum rope. You don't have to accent your muscular shoulders. -- Avoid anything too short or cropped -- it will seem boxy. Of your physique will be stretched out by A longer coat with a button position that is decrease. -- Maintain the lapels broad enough to balance your wide frame. -- Slanted pockets will narrow out the body a little, as would a beltless look with side adjusters over the trousers. -- Darker strong colors are slimming and will look less cumbersome than lighter ones. Pinstripes are a fantastic idea, but not tests or plaids. -- You will probably need the"top level" with the maximum fittings. Too muscular body types with quantity and dimension pattern-makers and are the most difficult for tailors. Think in building a wardrobe that is new. Start with basics that are versatile and build out to cloths with character. It's possible to wear a strong gray or blue suit into the office three times a week and no one but your co-workers will phone you out if they keep watching these pinstripes. And don't overlook the custom touches 3. Is the coat canvassed? The very first suit I recommend is a solid navy 4-season (8-10 ounce ) wool wool. It's custom made, therefore feel free to splurge on details that match the way you live and aren't usually available off-the-rack. This one varies considerably based upon your body type (ie. How well or poorly a normal off-the-rack garment fits you). 6. What's your adjustments coverage? Imagine should I gain or eliminate weight? You can find a thousand ways however, also the garment is just as good as it is raw input that is most significant signal. The fabric choice is undeniably the most crucial decision you'll make when placing your new lawsuit. Not only does this determine your suit will look and texture,but also how it can perform over time. I have seen everything from bogus brand name cloths to"Made in USA" labels being sewn into coats in SouthEast Asia. The books used to display swatches are costly to manufacture and restricted in quantity. Because of this, vendors carefully distribute them only to the shops that do the business (and thus have the best reputation and maximum number of returning clients). #5: Obtain the fit right, the First-time A jacket is : #4: Get to a secure body shape Trying custom clothing for the first time? Higher and super 180s becomes really fragile. It is a work horse's reverse, and ought to be reserved for guys who have 20+ matches in their turning who are looking for something which they float out a month to make a statement. With regular fluctuations of 5-10 pounds, this weight is usually spread round the body and does not impact the match of the general garment much (unless you would rather a super-slim painted-on match ). There are significant benefits to handwork in specific areas of the garment such as a hand-set canvas, hand-rolled lapels, hand-felled collar, hand-set sleeves, etc.. Nuances that give the garment dimension and higher flexibility are allowed for by manipulating the cloth by hand. Most of my matches are in the Super 120-130 range, which I believe the balance between luxury and durability. Ask your tailor made for care instructions. A. Fused: the most simplest and most affordable method to construct a coat where front panel and lapel facing are backed utilizing iron-on adhesive called interfacing then stitched together. The lawsuit is intended to appear pristine on a body. The lawsuit will probably likely crease and wrinkle and as you begin shifting all bets are off in both areas of movement. It is fabric, not magic. By way of example, conventional British tailors such as the prestigious stores on Savile Row are inclined to cut with larger allowances (the difference between the customer's body dimensions and the measurements of the final product) for a roomier garment which has greater"drape". English tailors also prefer heavier cloth, a decrease gorge line (the seam where the collar meets the lapel) and more overall structure to the jacket (stiffer chest canvas, thicker shoulder pads, etc). Knowing the design and strategy of this store is extremely important so as to attain the fit you are trying to find. Ask if you're able to try-on a sample garment in your size, this will provide an notion of the tailor thinks of a suit to you. Most stores have. Listen to their information and conversate about your decisions that are styling as opposed to assuming you know. Go with the maximum quality material you can afford (note: that doesn't indicate the highest thread count). #6:: Understand that you are (probably) not an expert Since this could be changed in a matter of minutes, the hemline is not the same problem. -- Crop that coat a little, it will extend the leg and add some elevation (just ensure that your chair is largely covered). -- Move with slim (not skinny) peak lapels, in proportion with your shoulders. -- A one button coat keeps the match in appropriate proportions and permits you to get deeper position, creating the illusion of height. -- Keep the legs slim and tapered with very minimal rest. -- Your jacket sleeves must be cut off short enough that you reveal at 1/2″ of shirt cuff -- this will make your arms look more. -- A shoulder pad can provide you a bit of existence, and a tiny rope around the shoulder to. -- can a check, glenplaid or textured cloth. -- Keep your shirt collars sparse and your palms slender and onto the short side (in case they're always coming out too long, then have them shortened in the backside from the tailor made ). The awful truth is that it's a really unethical industry As this is a company where manufacturing starts after the sale is finished, and many clients aren't well versed in the principles of planting. 1. What fabrics do you offer? You need to invest. Truth isa"super 110s" from a quality mill will feel softer than a"super 180s" by a second speed fabric house anyway.