#this is an older one! got the urge to polish it up a bit and post it today

[eurekq]

presenting the lady inquisitor, aoife lavellan

[deadsetobsessions]

Pt. 3

Again, the timing is icky but pretty much everything about it is icky.

——

Bruce wondered when Talia al Ghul would stop upheaving his life.

He loves Damian, but one surprise child was a lot, considering the cult deprogramming they’d had to do.

A second, older, surprise child? That was a bit overkill.

At least this time, the conception was consensual.

Bruce cradled his head in his hands, still-gloved fingers gripping onto sweat-soaked hair. The glow of the bat computer shone on his lone figure, sat huddled before endless screens of investigations and the unraveling threads of Bruce’s sanity.

How was he to cope with the knowledge that a child- his child, like Dick and Damian and Tim and Jason and- suffered so at the man he thought he had beaten so soundly?

It was his fault, Bruce thought, that Ra’s al Ghul tortured his… Bruce’s… daughter so brutally. It was no doubt, a way to assuage his anger at Bruce’s denial of being his heir.

His mistakes always came back to haunt him, but it never laid its furious eyes and hands on his own person. No, when Bruce made mistakes, his loved ones paid for it.

He tried his best, pushed harder as Batman, in penance. But this… his unknown daughter, trapped in the shadows of the league where it is cold and cruel and brutally painful…

How could he repent for the sin of letting his daughter suffer and chained at the hands of Ra’s al Ghul? How could he show her that the shadows could be kind? That he would rather break his own spine and get lost in the time stream again before he could even fathom hurting her? He found himself stuck in the same loop of thoughts that plagued him when Damian first came into his orbit.

The screens turned black, and Oracle’s call sign flashed onto the dark pixels.

“Oracle. I hadn’t finished looking at the cases.”

“Go to sleep, Bruce.”

“No, there is still work to be-” his voice, dipping into the growl, died a quick death when Barbara cut him off.

“Your daughter is coming tomorrow. So, unless you want to look like a disheveled grease racoon when you meet her, go shower and get some actual sleep.”

Bruce paused, feeling oddly offended. His eye bags weren’t that bad.

Bruce caught sight of his reflection in one of the blacked out monitors.

…Nevermind.

He sighed. “…Thank you, Barbara.”

“Anytime, Bruce. I’m always here to kick your ass into gear.”

Bruce huffed, but obligingly got up to change and shower. Alfred silently appeared at the elevators, polished shoes tapping against the stone floor as he raised an imperious eyebrow at Bruce.

“I see Miss Barbara has managed to persuade you to retire at an hour common to regular man, Master Bruce.”

“Ah, yes, she… did.” Bruce felt the urge to apologize, because if Alfred’s up because of him, it’ll wear down harsher on the older man’s health. If there was one thing he took seriously, it would be the health of his loved ones. “Sorry, Alfred. I’ll head up to bed soon.”

“See to it that you do, Master Bruce. I will warm dinner that you had missed by many hours and bring it to your room.”

Bruce lingered as the butler turned around and began making his way back to the main house.

Alfred paused and turned around once more. “If I may offer you some advice?”

“Please. Always.”

Alfred sniffed delicately, most definitely thinking of the times Bruce decided not to take his very well reasoned and seasoned advice. “You have done well with Young Master Damian.”

“Most of that was Dick,” Bruce interrupted, man enough to admit that he wasn’t a present or a particularly good father figure before his jaunt through time and space. Alfred shot him a chiding look, reprimanding him for interrupting. Bruce rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Perhaps, but you have put in effort towards all of your children in a way that I have yet to see since Master Jason had… gone.”

“I’ll never make that period of time up to Tim.” Bruce whispered. Another thing he was guilty of. Tim still avoided some spaces in the manor, even when Bruce had-

“That is because you sit here, wallowing in your guilt,” Alfred returned. He added a belated “Master Bruce,” and it sounded like ‘you utter buffoon.’

“But…”

“You must take the first step, Master Bruce.”

“What if she hates me? What if I’m not ready- what if I can’t help her?”

“You will try. She deserves that, at the very least. You must try. Even if you are not ready for the day, Master Bruce, it can not always be night.”

“… You’re right.” Bruce straightened his shoulders. Time doesn’t wait. He, of all people, knew that.

“You will find that I am hardly ever wrong.” Alfred primly rested his hands atop each other.

“Thank you, Alfred.”

“Of course. It was also meant literally, Master Bruce, for the sun shall try its best to peek out of Gotham’s smog in approximately three hours and fourteen minutes.”

“I’m going, I’m going,” Bruce grouched.

——

Her mother gave her a slow, cautious hug, akin to approaching a wild animal.

She huffed, and pulled her mother into a crushing hug. She allowed herself, for the first time in a long time, to linger and cling onto her mother’s shirt. Another tendency that Ra’s had thought he’d beaten out of her.

“Be careful,” the reincarnation whispered.

“You as well, my beloved daughter.”

‘You do not have to remind me that I am beloved, mother. I know.’

Talia al Ghul tucked a strand of the reincarnation’s curled hair behind her ear. “No, I do not believe that you do. But that is… my own fault. I will tell you and remind you that you are beloved to me as long as I can. I have two decades of it to make up to you, habibti.”

The flight attendant- a League operative- returned from placing her bags onto the private plane.

——

A sleek car made its way up Wayne Manor’s winding driveway. She’d declined the offer to pick her up from the airport. She had wanted a vehicle of her own, and some time before she met every one else. No doubt, knowing what she knew of her brother and Bruce Wayne, not to mention the little photographer, they were most likely tracing her path to Wayne manor obsessively.

She tapped her nails on the wheel as she drove towards her brother. Brothers. And… Bruce Wayne. On one hand, she’s kept them safe. On the other, she’d sacrificed years of getting to know them. It was odd, to feel this intensely awkward and nervous after years of intense hatred or apathy sprinkled by the the occasional love and fondness for Damian and her mother.

“Hmmm.” She hummed, slight smile spreading a bit more as the sound came out without pain. Two weeks, and the novelty of freedom had not worn off. She thinks that it would never wear off. She cherished it.

The gate had opened without needing a code, so they most definitely knew she was here. It’s a good thing she had prepared gifts in advance. Dodging Gothamites as they drove and jaywalked had been a rather unforeseen ordeal that she was not looking forward to repeating.

She rolled to a smooth stop at the front doors, giving the intricately carved oak doors a passing glance. She huffed a laugh as she saw Damian, flanked by Bruce Wayne and Alfred Pennyworth, staring proudly outside at the front door. They’re anticipatory of her arrival. Warmth spread through her heart, and for the first time in a long while, it wasn’t the heat of rage.

She opened the doors with a quiet click and hiss, stepping out onto the heated paved driveway, and closed the door. At the steps, the two older men had frozen but Damian had come walking quickly towards her.

“Damian,” she whispered as he came near her, suffusing as much fondness as she could into his name. Her little brother all but sprinted towards her, screeching to a stop in front of her with excited eyes.

“Welcome to Wayne Manor, ukhti.” He said formally. Her eyes softened and she pulled him into a hug.

(yā waṭawāṭī alṣṣḡīr is the phonetic spelling.) ("وطواطي الصغير" is the actual spelling. I think.)

“I have missed you, ya wat-wat alssgirr,” she whispered. The familiar endearment, “my little bat,” rung warmly like a warm crease ruffling his hair. The silks of her clothes and the ever present warm sand and candle scent wrapped around him like a hug… like the hug she was currently giving him.

(Her clothes were in blues and silvers. It suited her, she who had been forced in green and golds and cuts of black.)

“I still can not believe you all but told me who father was and I still could not figure it out until mother told me.”

She pulled back. ‘Damian, you were five.’

“I have little doubt you were smarter at my age, ukhti, so do not lie to me.” Damian grumbled. Nevertheless, he stepped back.

‘No, you were smarter.’

And to her, he was. It’s not like Damian had the edge she did, and he wasn’t the one trapped for twenty something years. She had foolishly thought that Ra’s wouldn’t dare to harm her too much, seeing as she was his blood, but Damian knew from day 1. She made sure he did. If she was half as smart as Damian, she would have bent her knee and obeyed, no matter how she felt about killing. She would have taken warning Ra’s issued and soaked in the poisonous praise to bide her time to escape. She could not- she did not- do what Damian found effortless, and paid the price for it.

“Unlikely,” Damian said, turning around fully, but she could see the tips of her brother’s ears burning. Ah, perhaps she had been to stingy with compliments if he was shy hearing a mild one, sincere as it might have been. “This is Alfred Pennyworth. He is the butler, and an integral part of the family.”

Damian glanced at her, taking in her suddenly impassive face, and nods. Good. His attitude towards Pennyworth when he first arrived was… mildly shameful. His ukhti was smart enough to know that and therefore he won the argument.

On her part, the reincarnation followed along like she hadn’t mildly stalked this family for decades. It was nice to see excitement rearing on her brother’s face. It was rare in the league and Gotham’s gloom had ironically cheered him up far more than the suns of desserts ever did. She nodded at Alfred Pennyworth, who had admirably recovered from his earlier shock.

“And this is… Bruce Wayne. Our father.”

She tucked a strand of curled hair back, impassive blue eyes meeting her… father’s.

She offered him a short nod.

——

“My word,” Alfred Pennyworth muttered as his charge’s (his son’s) daughter step out of the car. Her steps were silent, graceful, and lighter than a gazelle.

The way she moved, even as she hugged young master Damian, whispered of leashed lethality and treacherous waters. She moved like if grace had a form and Alfred was willing to bet his entire career that not an iota of air got close to her without her knowledge of it, and it reminded the aging man of the young Miss Cassandra. He knew then, that she could have pretended to be unassuming and that he would have had a hard time equating her with danger. That she showed them her potential for death was a sign of trust.

But it was not the way she claimed death as her own name that caught the former spy’s attention.

No.

It was her blue eyes and the way they ever so slightly crinkled fondly as she laid eyes upon her younger brother. It was the way her hair, curled in a nostalgic style, that curtained her face as she spoke to the young Wayne heir, though he could not hear her voice. It was the way that she tucked Damian against her side, protective but encouraging.

It was the way that she, despite Talia al Ghul’s features, resembled his dearest friend, Martha Wayne, in her every movement.

Alfred Pennyworth felt like he was decades younger, standing before Martha as she fondly tucked Bruce against her side and successfully needled Thomas into going to see Bruce’s favorite movie.

It felt like he had his best friend once more, just a little.

From the way Master Bruce stared, it seemed as though he thought the same.

Alfred straightened when young master Damian introduced him. He was the Wayne Family Butler. And she was definitely a Wayne.

Master Bruce stood there like a lout as his daughter greeted him. Alfred shot him a scathing look- he had taught Master Bruce much better manners than to gape, the nerve!- before smoothly directing the attention away. His hands moved as he spoke.

“Welcome to Wayne Manor, Miss-”

She made a sharp motion to cut him off and signed something. Alfred might be a tad rusty in Arabic sign language (like he and the rest of the family hadn’t spent the last two weeks frantically memorizing and brushing up on their sign language) but he knew a name sign when he saw one.

“al Ghul.” Damian recognized. He did not use regular Arabic Sign Language with her often, vastly preferring their own established sign, but that did not mean he slacked. “You may call her al-Ghul.”

‘Or nothing at all,’ Damian’s sister signed. She looked at him like she was waiting. A test, Alfred realized.

Alfred pushed the slight twinge of disheartening disappointment away. He had wanted to call her Miss Wayne, to perhaps indulge in a bit of nostalgia for a while longer. But he shan’t do it at the expense of his charge.

“Miss al Ghul,” he continued, not missing a beat, imitating the name sign with pin point accuracy. She lifted her chin. Alfred sighed in relief. He passed. And now, perhaps he should revive Ra’s al Ghul and have a nice, entirely civil conversation about Miss al Ghul’s expectation that her wishes would go ignored.

Alfred will bring his shotguns and most likely would abandon pretenses as soon as that old goat got into his crosshairs. Old as he might be, he was still a very good shot, and civility was reserved for those with honor.

“Please head inside. I am sure young master Damian would love to guide you on a tour,” Alfred continued like he didn’t think of violent second deaths for Ra’s al Ghul. “Perhaps Master Bruce will join you, if you are amendable, once he has managed to stop imitating the rather life like form of a smooth brained sloth.”

Alfred congratulated himself on the small crinkle of humor that graced Miss al Ghul’s otherwise expressionless face. Well, expressionless to those that did not know where to look. Fortunately, Alfred and the rest of the family were used to stoic caveman micro expressions, courtesy of Bruce, and therefore it would not be much of a problem.

“I will bring your bags up to your room.”

She scrutinized him and then dipped her head.

‘Be careful. There are dangerous things in there.’

“I assure you the utmost privacy in regards to your belongings,” Alfred said.

“Pennyworth will not peruse your belongings, ukhti. He has more honor and respect than that.”

Alfred would like to interrogate Talia al Ghul to see who he must introduce some lead to, that clearly disrespected Miss al Ghul’s privacy like so. But for now, he will bask in the warmth of young master Damian’s implicit trust.

Miss al Ghul nodded. She opened the trunk of the car- the interior of which Alfred could now perceive to be entirely customized and of extremely quality material. She handed the keys and gave him access to her luggage. Then, placing her hand at young master Damian’s shoulder, followed the young master into the halls where she ought to have been raised. Or, at the very least, ought to have taken a step in at least once before today.

Master Bruce lingered at the doorway, torn between following the siblings and helping Alfred with the luggage (read: running away.)

“The daylight is wasting, Master Bruce.”

Master Bruce skittered in behind them like a newborn colt, wobbling and anxious.

Well, it’s time for Alfred to do his job. There was only a single duffle bag.

Hm. He’ll have to tell Master Bruce to take her out for necessities. He hardly doubted that a single bag could last her very long. And Alfred Pennyworth was hellbent on convincing his granddaughter to stay, may the gods have mercy on whichever poor soul that tried to convince her otherwise for he won’t.

——

She followed Damian as he led her deeper within the walls of a home she knew by heart from afar. She was like the little photographer in that way. Bruce Wayne trailed behind them like a particularly awkward ghoul, and she found it amusing to equate this turtle necked man was the illustrious Dark Knight. How dangerous.

“This is the first parlor. It is for guests of the… regular persuasion.”

Ah, for the civilians. She nodded.

“Ah, the silverware was selected by Alfred.” Bruce interjected, gesturing to the display silverware by the door. Their cabinets were intricate without taking away from the paintings upon the delicate ceramic.

She looked at him, wondering why he was following before giving up and nodding. It was his house.

(Bruce, for his part, felt like his daughter had laid judgement upon him… and found him lacking.)

‘It is… adequate.’ She sighed to Damian. Damian tutted.

“It’s fine to say quaint, sister. It could hardly compare to the palace.”

Bruce jolted, plans for converting the manor into a palace already in the making.

No, he couldn’t. Alfred would murder him with his favorite dish.

‘I like it, even if it is smaller.’

“….you do?”

‘You are happy here. It is warm to you. I like it.’ She repeated.

Damian latched onto her sleeve. “I- I shall show you my art. And then introduce you to the rest of the bumbling fools we have for brothers-”

She tilted her head. Bruce paused as well when Damian’s words cut off.

“If… you want them as brothers. It would be… helpful, to integrate.”

She waited.

“But… I am the first. Your blood. And-”

‘I will make room in my heart for them, if you wish it. I already know some of them.’ She allowed a small smile to show. ‘But that does not mean you will ever lose your place, little bat.’

Damian felt extremely thankful that father had not managed to pick up their version of sign language yet.

“Well… as long as you’re aware.” He marched further into the manor. She followed, once more, a look of fond indulgence gleaming in her eyes.

——

She stood in front of a painting her younger brother had done.

‘I made it two weeks ago,’ he’d told her, fingers curled into her palm.

It was green. She hated green. And gold. And ominous. Rage. Harsh, bold strokes and spots where the texture of the canvas were either globbed over or painfully showing through.

Her hands traced the single stroke of blue amidst the turbulence of green.

She tucked Damian against her side and realized that perhaps he understood after all, what it felt like. Perhaps not all of it, but enough.

——

“Here is your room, ukhti.” Damian stood watch as his sister scanned the room. She quickly removed three listening devices as Damian sighed.

‘You’ve gotten better.’ She crossed the room and plucked the listening bug from its place on the door frame.

“Clearly not good enough.” Damian huffed. “But I have beaten your knife game record. What do you think of the room?”

His sister rolled her eyes and handed him a blade she pulled from somewhere on her person.

An implicit challenge.

“No cutting your fingers off, please.” Father interceded.

“Begone, father. We are doing sibling bonding, something I remember you insisting that I participate in.”

Damian shut the door on his stupefied face, matching his sister’s sharp smirk as he splayed his hand on the dresser and raised the blade.

——

Alfred walked in with a covered plate and paused at the sight of the dresser.

Then, he looked on as Damian sat at the desk, rapidly signing to his sister in their own version of the language as said sister pulled out an entire wardrobe and a half to fill in the walk-in closet.

Alfred made a note to study some more magic.

“Miss al-Ghul. I bring you a snack that young master Damian made and to inform you that the others will be arrive en masse, within an hour.” Alfred paused. “Might I interest you in a mat before the two of you decide to… take a gander at furniture redecoration in the future?”

“Of course, Pennyworth. Apologies.”

“I’ll try to make sure they won’t overwhelm you. They can be a lot, at once.” Bruce said from the doorway. Miss al Ghul glanced at him and dipped her head in thanks. Her eyes wandered right back to the dessert.

Alfred made another note.

‘You made this for me?’ She asked, switching to standard.

Damian grumbled. “Do not eat it. I could not get the spice quite right, no matter how many variations…”

‘I am sure it will be good.’ She took the plate from Alfred’s hand and uncovered it.

They all had the fortune of witnessing a true, genuine wide eyed smile from a stoic face.

Alfred inhaled sharply. He had thought Master Bruce and young master Damian had inherited Thomas’ dimples. But she had inherited his entire smile.

‘Bstilla!’ She turned to Damian. ‘My favorite! You made this?’

“I know that. I am not incompetent as to not notice when you snuck three of them from the palace kitchens. You must give me the recipe from the cooks. I could not get it to taste like the spices they used. I even imported spices!”

Miss al-Ghul, like she had forgotten he and Master Bruce were there, stabbed a fork into the pie and put it into her mouth.

“Ukhti! Don’t- do not eat that! Spit it out! The pastry is too thick and-”

She held up her hand. ‘It’s good. I know what it is missing.’

She strode to her magic bag and pulled out a bottle.

She sprinkled flakes on top and offered a forkful of b’stilla to the young master who, shockingly, did not insist on his own utensil.

His expression lightened. “This is it. What is it? You know of the chefs’ methods?”

She sprinkled the mysterious spice on the food. ‘You’ve never eaten anything the chefs have made. I made your food by hand to prevent assassinations and inoculate you against toxins. Also, this is poison.’

Alfred stiffened.

“It’s what?!” Bruce spoke up, rushing into the room, finally to try and look Damian over.

‘It is fine. He has been immune since he was three.’

Miss al Ghul placed a piece of poisoned b’stilla in her mouth and ate. Young master Damian batted his father off, saying that poison inoculation was hardly a surprise. What was a surprise, though, was something else.

“That is- you- you’re the one who made my meals?” Young Master Damian demanded, looking guilty. “But- I- why did you not tell me? I made all of those demands in the middle of the night- what about the time I sent back the knafe fifteen times?”

She nodded.

“Why would you- why did you not tell me?”

‘You knew what grandfather thought of women. And besides, it was the only time I was allowed sweets. He did not want me to ruin my figure as it would lower my marketability.’

Alfred itched for his gun.

“You are not a commodity,” Master Bruce stated, intense as he tended to be. Miss al Ghul blinked at him.

‘… I am aware. But… thank you.’

“Ah. Yes. Of course.” And there went the emotionally intelligent Master Bruce. May he rest in peace until the next time he decides to make an appearance.

“I believe today is a chocolate chip cookie day, do you not, young master Damian?”

“Yes, Pennyworth, I believe it is.”

‘I have never tried it before.’

“You will love it. Pennyworth’s cookies are the best in the world, as is expected.”

Alfred watched as young master Damian tugged his sister out and marveled. The sides of his grandson they rarely get to see was so easily pulled out by his older sister.

——

Y’all I wanted to write her meeting the siblings but Alfred came out of no where and went haha nope feel the angst of a man who lost his best friend and had to raise her vigilante child.

Alfred, seeing Bruce put on the bat cowl for the first time: martha, why have you forsaken me

——

Me: what would baby assassins play as a binding game?

Me, remembering my past as a kid: I Spy, but with trackers and bugs. oh wait… THE KNIFE GOES CHOP CHOP CHOP

——

Also, I think B’stilla was food meant only for royalty and was probably rooted in slavery, so I thought it would be a meaningful nod to her position of privilege and how she are like a king but was treated as a… bed warmer and a slave. Yeah. If anyone knowledgeable on food history wants to school me on b’stilla, feel free to do so. I did like, a cursory research at best.

[cherrychilli]

18+ Living painting! Steve x F! reader, supernatural AU, monsterfucking (kind of), lil bit of angst, mentions of blood, mentions of bodily injury, oral sex (f), allusions to unprotected PIV sex

WC: 2.9K

A/N: So, I found the painting in the middle on Pinterest and couldn't help thinking that he looked pretty similar to Steve and this happened to be during the time I became interested in writing a monsterfucking fic of my own. It all kind of fell into place that night and I pretty much fell in love with the idea of a Steve who's a literal work of art that comes to life at night and becomes your secret supernatural boyfriend💛 I'm still figuring these two out but this is what I've come up with so far. Enjoy!

One week had passed and the remains of the old picture frame still sat in the waste basket in your kitchen, the ends of splintered poplar jutting up and out of the rim like jagged teeth.

It taunted you like a sneer but you made no move to empty it. Not until you knew for certain if he'd come back or not.

The new frame you'd selected was made of polished, treated pinewood. Sturdy and reliable, you were assured. You only hoped your glassy eyes had nothing to do with how strongly the sales lady had urged you of the frame's durability. Anything to clear you out before the other customers noticed the beginnings of tears wetting your lashes, a part of you suspected.

But the brand-new frame felt firm in your trembling hands. Solid. Sleek. Unbreakable, you hoped. Now all you had to do was wait while doing your best to disregard the many whispers of your neighbors as you passed by them in your apartment building.

"He must have found someone better", Mrs. Owens had muttered haughtily to her husband as you departed the elevator after exchanging forced smiles with the older couple, never knowing how close she'd come to having one of her gaudy gold earrings ripped right out of her lobe had you not managed to contain yourself at the last second.

"I think they might have broken up", you caught Tiffany from 20F's whisper directed at her boyfriend when you walked by them in the hallway, their tight, sympathetic smiles making your stomach churn as you hauled in your grocery bags containing only beer, instant noodles and a pack of cigarettes. The first pack you'd touched in a long time.

"Seriously? I never even got a look at the guy", he'd whispered back to her in a whine.

Sometimes you wondered what kind of image they'd conjured up of Steve. After all, there's only so much you can imagine when all you have to go by is what you can sometimes hear through the walls of your apartment.

~

That night, you stared at his painting while you sat at the foot of your bed like you had every night for the past week, waiting.

The rip in the canvas that ran up the length of his forearm stared back at you. Looking at it made your own arm sting, like fishing hooks in your skin.

Around you, your apartment had fallen into clutter but you didn't dare try to dust or clean again until you knew for certain if what you'd done had ruined everything for good or not.

"Please come back", you chanted under your breath as the minutes passed, waiting as patiently as you could for 12.00am to arrive. You hoped he'd come out of his frame like he had all those nights before. You hoped those brushstrokes would warp into flesh and blood once again despite the unintended gash marring the painting's canvas. You hoped to feel his warmth under your fingertips tonight.

You craved it.

You needed it.

But he doesn't come.

The clock ticks past 12.10am and you let your eyes slip shut before the tears start again.

~

When you wake, you see that the time’s 12.56am once you'd managed to blink the sleep fog away from your eyes, finding a sheet draped over your body and your cheek resting on a pillow you hadn't placed there yourself.

Springing up, your throat grows tight, like rope around your windpipe and you very nearly choke at the sight of the empty framed canvas hanging on your bedroom wall, nothing but swathes of buttery yellows, whites and greys pictured where there once was a pale brunette in the foreground too.

The five inch long cut that'd been made when the painting had scraped against the edge of your dresser was absent from the canvas as well, you notice, frantically kicking off your sheets to begin searching your apartment.

He's peacefully clearing up in the kitchen when you find him, a fresh kitchen towel wrapped securely around his forearm but you can see the blood stains seeping through the pale blue cotton from where you stand.

"You're out of bandages", he smiles when he sees you and it nearly makes your knees buckle, the doorframe holding you up as you lean against it for support.

"Does it hurt?", you manage to ask, eyeing the bloodied towel sadly, guilt scraping at you from the inside out like a saw grinding against your bones. It was all your fault.

"Barely", he answers and you almost believe him. Almost.

It's Steve who crosses the distance first because your legs have grown too weak to do so, reaching out with his injured arm to cup your cheek lovingly.

He notices too late that the blood from his wound has managed to trail down to his thumb. A crimson thumbprint stains your cheek and he attempts to wipe it away from your skin but you stop him before he has the chance.

"Don't", you plead. You didn't want to wipe that trace of him away, not after thinking you'd lost him. Not when you want to wear it on you like rubies.

"I could see you the whole time", he tells you, looking all kinds of apologetic for the worry he’d caused you. "Wanted to tear through that damn frame and be with you. I needed to hold you and tell you that I was okay – that you didn't need to cry anymore but this–" he clutches his injured arm. "I don't know why I couldn't come out sooner– I don't understand this– I still don't understand this", he gestures to himself and it's with a deep pang of sympathy that you understand his frustration.

His entire existence was an anomaly. For all the months you had spent together since you'd first discovered him, the both of you were yet to know how it was that Steve came to be. What had brought him to life? what other kinds of limitations were there? what did this all mean for your relationship? The thing is, none of these questions would be answered tonight because none them mattered to you right now. He was here again and that's all that really mattered.

"We don't have to. Not right away at least", you tell him, fisting the front of his white shirt with your hands, clutching him. "Just promise me you'll always come back", you plead softly, voice cracking as you sniff back a sob.

Smiling again, Steve cradles your face with both hands then, returning your adoring gaze with his mossy, cinnamon eyes. "I promise."

You're quick to lean into him after that, your arms winding tight around his waist as his drop lower to wrap around your back, pulling you in closer as you hold each other for a while.

It's no ordinary embrace. You spend those few blissful minutes memorizing every detail; his scent, his warmth, the gentle beat of his heart as you press your cheek to his chest, relishing all the little things about him that you thought you'd lost forever.

And then you're reminded of his injury, the thin, still bleeding slash running down his arm that the two of you are yet to attend to.

"Let me patch you up", you pull back to look up into his eyes, thinking of the spare first aid kit you had tucked away somewhere deep in your closet.

He only smiles back at you in that way that makes it impossible not to feel so cherished, like you’re the only thing he’ll ever treasure in this strange life he’s been granted.

"Later."

Gently, Steve interlaces his fingers with yours, pulling you into the kitchen and guiding you towards the kitchen dining table.

You watch closely as he pushes the clutter that'd gathered there off the table with his free hand, letting the empty grocery bags and more fall to the floor. You don't even have it in you to feel ashamed of the mess, too relieved to have him back, too pleased to give yourself to Steve as he wraps his large hands around the back of your thighs, lifting you up and placing you down on your table with your legs dangling off the edge.

Neither of you are surprised when things begin to take on a feverish, needy haze as your legs spread further for him to step between. His hands find the hem of your old, oversized t-shirt so he can pull it up over your bare breasts and over your head, stripping you of it and tossing it aside, leaving you in just your panties.

Five and a half hours remain until the sun is due to come up and he'll have to climb back into frame again.

It just doesn't feel like enough.

With how badly you've missed him this past week you feel like you'll need an hour just to kiss him, another to let him explore you, one more for you to return the favor and the rest to wrap yourselves around each other – both of you connected, exchanging the same shaky breath back and forth, fanning the flames of each other’s' fire as you take him so deep inside that you'll carry the forthcoming soreness between your legs with a smile.

For now, though, Steve's kisses start off slow and lazy. Soft licks swipe along your bottom lip before you grant him entry into your mouth and his tongue finds yours, wrapping around it all languid and sloppy. It doesn't take long for him to begin sucking on it gently, eagerly swallowing down the many moans that rise up from your throat when his fingers start to pinch and pull at your hardened nipples.

It's impossible to keep from squirming when he touches you like this, knowing exactly where you're most sensitive and how best to stimulate you. It almost feels like he's weaponized all the knowledge he’s accrued during your time together, circling your nipples with his thumbs, bringing you right up to the cusp of just enough but purposefully withholding more – dangling your pleasure out of arm's reach

Unable to tame your greed because, how could you? how could anyone after what you’ve been through? you try to seek out more. You arch your back and push your chest out to meet Steve’s hands but all that does is make him pull away from your lips, a gentle chuckle working its way up his throat.

"Not yet, baby, not yet. Be a good girl and I'll treat you right."

You’re just about ready to pout and give him your most imploring, desperate Bambi eyes but he attaches himself to your neck next, teeth grazing your pulse point, lips forming a tight seal on your skin as he sucks fresh hickeys on to the surface.

Head lolling back, you can already imagine the sour scowl sure to twist Mrs. Owens' face when she sees the result of Steve’s work tomorrow, a grin emerging on your face as you plan to display the hickeys proudly instead of make any kind of effort to conceal them later.

But just as quickly as the thought had emerged, it falls to the wayside as Steve begins to grow less gentle, his lips leaving your neck as he urges you to lay your back flat against the table. Your own touches are growing more insistent as you help him rid himself of his shirt too, running your hands up the plane of his soft stomach, fingers trailing through his thick chest hair, loving the way it tickles your palms when you do so.

Leaning over you, he begins his descent down your body by pressing one last hot kiss at your neck and then two more between your breasts and on your stomach, gently pushing your knees further apart as he brings his mouth closer to your clothed cunt. You yield to him easily, soft and pliant under his touch like a bud unfurling its petals, ready to bloom. Your breath catches as his lips kiss up your inner thigh, his tongue seeking out your core, dragging over the damp cotton of your panties when he finds it.

Your reaction is instantaneous, hips twitching and whining for him just how he likes when he hooks his finger around the gusset of your panties, pulling it up so that it sinks firmly between your folds. The bump of your swollen clit is so obvious and easy to find underneath the stretched-out fabric and the curls between your legs peek out around the now tight, narrow strip of material. It feels so vulgar when he plays with you like this – so right because you’ve come to love it so much, even to the point you can’t imagine being touched any other way.

“Steve”, you can’t help the high-pitched rasp your voice has taken on, hips twitching again when he smirks and pulls on your panties hard enough for the material to drag over your clit and make you yelp.

And even now, when you're both so desperate for each other, he takes the time to tease you – loving the way you try to urge him on by wiggling your hips and the near pitiful way you whimper out "please".

"I promise. I'm going to treat you so good, sweetheart. Can you hold on a little longer for me, please? I know baby, I know – I just need to play with her a little bit first, okay? Gonna have my tongue on you soon", he coos sweetly in an attempt to placate you as he reaches for the waistband of your panties next.

You lift up your hips to help him get them off, a fresh flare of heat surging through your cheeks when you notice how he has to peel the sticky cotton from your cunt, catching sight of the glistening webs of slick that stretch from your pussy lips to your ruined underwear.

That self-conscious burn doesn’t remain for very long though because during your time together you've learned that Steve likes it messy. So, you're not surprised when you look up to find his face bright with delight, spreading your legs again once he's got your panties off from around your ankles, placing his thumbs on either side of your puffy lips and pulling you open.

"That's my girl", he mutters, his face so close you can feel his breath fan over your naked cunt. “So beautiful.”

He watches your wet hole clench and flex with an unquenchable fascination while you prop yourself up on your elbows and bite down on your lip, both of you unblinking when he gently pulls up your hood to get a good look at your throbbing clit.

“Aw baby. You’ve needed me badly, haven’t you?”, he looks up from between your legs, licking the pad of his thumb before pressing it against your swelling clit to rub slow circles into the sensitive bead.

You sigh out blissfully at the much-needed stimulation, thankful for it as your toes curl and you begin to nod your head. “Missed you so much”, you tell him through a whimper, nails dragging across varnished walnut.

At your admission, you see him reach between his legs to rub at the tent in his pants, lightly grinding his crotch into his palm for some relief. "I missed you too”, he tells you earnestly, letting loose a deep groan that makes your belly twist and somersault with want.

Watching him only makes the ache between your own legs worse and as if sensing that, Steve gathers your thighs in each hand, placing them over his shoulders.

"I'll never make you wait again", he promises, leaning down low, his tongue slipping inside where you needed him most and just like that, after a week of feeling utterly fractured, like you were nothing more than a collection of shattered pieces in shambles, you’re suddenly made whole once again.

~

You hated that he couldn't stay with you in bed, both of you naked, sweaty and sticky, legs tangled together. Steve’s chest is practically pasted to your back as you both lay on your side, his arms around your waist, his soft cock against your bare ass, his cum leaking from between your legs and his lips busy at your neck.

His cut has stopped bleeding too, you were relieved to notice, a layer of scar tissue already forming in its place. Add that to the list of peculiar things you were yet to understand about Steve.

With a quick glance at the clock that shifts into a glare, you realize how quickly Steve must leave you with only ten minutes left until sun up. You wanted those minutes to stretch on as slowly as molasses, anything to keep him here beside you just a little longer.

"Let me help you clean up in here tomorrow", he kisses your cheek, pulling you away from the previous bitter thought.

You can still smell yourself on his lips the same way you're sure he can probably smell himself on yours, your tongue heavy with the taste of his spend as you keep swirling the muscle up against the roof of your mouth, sucking the remnants from it.

"Okay", you sigh contently, nuzzling your cheek against your pillow, pressing yourself against his naked form a little more.

"Don't drop me again, okay?", he chuckles against your skin like he can’t help it, his warm breath fanning over you.

You’re quick to pinch him on one of the arms he’s got wrapped around your waist. "Don't even joke about that. I thought I lost you", you turn to face him with a pout, one he's quick and plenty eager to kiss away with a smile.

"You didn't. You won't. I'm yours, always."

[a-fluffer-nutter]

What's Going On With You?

A/N - Hey @crazy-as-a-jaybird I was told that Santa may have missed your chimney this year. Well thankfully, I'm one of his elves and I am here to give your fic at long last! Sorry things had fallen through with Santa, but I am here to lighten your day with some Hamilton fluff (and some sads, but shush). As always, thank you @squealing-santa for the event and for @hypahticklish for organizing everything and letting me be the pinch hitter for this gift! I madly appreciate it! Anyways, onto the fic!

Word Count: 1,961

            “How’d you fuck up this time?” Hamilton all but purred as Burr walked past his seat, looking as dejected as possible, an older dog that’s been passed over at the shelter for the umpteenth time. Hamilton would never admit that Burr’s face made him feel a tinge of sadness; the poor man had clearly just gone through some shit, but Burr had been actively trying to make Hamilton’s life a living hell for years. Of course, Hamilton was going to have to have a little bit of fun kicking the man while he was down. “Washington isn’t a fan of stupid ideas.”

            “Shut up, Hamilton,” Burr snapped, but there was little malice behind his words. He just sounded tired. His eyes were dim, hands in his pockets, as he just walked past his rival.

            Hamilton visibly flinched as Burr brushed past him. Clearly something bad must have happened to Burr; the man could never resist the urge to speak his mind.

            Hamilton trailed him, walking down the hall full of doors and down the steps. Just as Burr was reaching from the front door, Hamilton grabbed his wrist and dragged him into another room which served as the main chamber for senate meetings. The last meeting had been adjourned hours before, so the room was empty and dark, the only light was the soon to be setting sun radiating from the two windows.

            “Hamilton! What is the meaning of this?” Burr growled as he was pushed into one of the long wooden benches, his back laying flat on the hard wood. As he struggled to get up, like a flipped turtle, Hamilton took a seat on his legs, ignoring how uncomfortable the position was for them both.

            “What is going on with you?” Hamilton asked, though it sounded more like a statement. He was annoyed, not one to be ignored.

            “What is going on with you?” Burr countered, waving his arms to gesture at Hamilton’s position. “And why the hell do you care about how I feel? It’s not like I matter to you. Washington chose you, go be his right hand man. Let me go and be nothing to you, to him.”

            Hamilton’s expression lightened; his snarl slipped into a frown.

            “What?” His voice was soft, quiet.

            Burr turned his head, staring at the back of the bench as he bit his lip.

            “It doesn’t matter,” He whispered, the condensation of his breath moistening the polished wood his nose was pressed into. “Please, let me go.”

            Without a word, Hamilton obliged. Burr’s joints popped as he got up, trapping a groan in his throat so Hamilton wouldn’t hear. He left the room, closing the door gently, and stood on the other side for a minute, expecting to be followed.

            “I’m sorry,” Burr mumbled under his breath as he continued on, leaving the building with his eyes made of glass.

            “I’m sorry,” Hamilton mumbled under his breath as he stood alone in the darkening room. For one of the only times in his life, Hamilton did not know what to do.

***

            A month had passed without incident. If Burr saw Hamilton anywhere, he would put his head down and keep walking. Thankfully, these encounters were limited. Hamilton became busy with his writings as Burr was busying himself with other endeavors while in the senate, one of which was taking care of Theodosia. It was cathartic, enjoying every second he got to spend with his daughter, but some days he would look at her beautiful face of ten years and have the sudden urge to cry.

            One night, after a particularly grueling senate meeting that had him and Samuel Johnston, the senator from North Carolina, in a heated yelling match. Luckily, most had turned out well for Burr, but he was still exhausted. All he wanted to do was rest, but it seemed that God had other plans for him that night.

            “Burr?” A voice sounded behind him, freezing him in his tracks. Burr’s hands shook, realizing that as he had been lost in his thoughts, he had somehow managed to walk right passed Hamilton without noticing. Burr stood there in silence, body rigid. “Burr, we need to talk.”

            “We do.”

            After an awkwardly silent walk, Burr brought Hamilton back to his house. Theodosia greeted her father with a hug and a polite curtsey to the other man.

            “Mr. Hamilton, sir,” Theodosia said with a fake, polite smile. She knew this man had upset her father, somehow, but her father hadn’t said much on the matter. And instead of lingering, Theodosia excused herself to her room and left the two men to their own devices.

            They were silent for quite some time, eyes locked as Burr stared Hamilton down as he sat in the center of the couch, hands clasped on his lap.

            “I’m sorry,” Hamilton said first. He always had to be first. “I overstepped. I should have left you alone.”

            “No, I was the one that overacted. I was upset so I got defensive,” Burr stared at the floor as he spoke. “I guess, I just didn’t realize you cared.”

            “Why wouldn’t I?” Hamilton countered; his eyes bore into Burr’s slumped figure. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t care.”

            “Hmm.”

            “I guess I didn’t realize you were a dumbass.”

            Burr’s jaw slumped as he gaped at the man across from him, though he was able to spot the mischievous glint in the man’s eyes, and quickly pursed his lips together into the faintest of smiles.

            “I care about your feelings, even if you’re the biggest pain in my ass,” Hamilton crossed his arms, smirking as he leaned back into the couch. “Besides, you are absolutely no fun when you’re sad.”

            “Is that so?”

            “Of course! Who else am I going to pester? Washington can only take so much of my banter.”

            Burr let out a soft chuckle, dropping his eyes to the floor in embarrassment.

            “Was that a laugh I heard?” Hamilton mused, his pitch rising in excitement.

            Burr felt his cheeks heat up. He didn’t know why, but Hamilton’s excitement always had this effect on him. It was contagious how lit up Hamilton could get about most things. He hadn’t the slightest idea what Hamilton was intending, but he bit his lip to hold back a smile.

            “You’re not answering me,” Hamilton huffed. “I guess I’ll just have to find out for myself.”

            Before Burr could react, Hamilton had leaped from the couch and had his hands all over him.

            It had been quite some time since they last did this. Just after the war ended, Hamilton and his rag tag team of misfits would attempt to “cheer up” Burr whenever they saw him. Most of the time, Burr hadn’t been upset. However, he wore a natural frown when he walked, which was enough to incite violence, specifically from Hamilton and Laurens. This activity had slowed to a stop once the band broke up. Lafayette went back to France, Mulligan had gone back into tailoring, and Laurens had unfortunately been killed just before the war was officially ended. The latter had hurt Hamilton the most, thus ended most of his playful interactions with anyone outside his household.

            Burr didn’t hold back his laughter at all. He didn’t feel the need. It had been years, and frankly, Burr didn’t mind this. It felt normal. Nostalgic.

            “Ah, there it is,” Hamilton beamed, listening to Burr’s rich belly laugh that he would only do when his ribs were being attacked. This was Hamilton’s go to spot when on the attack, getting the best results the quickest. It may not have been Burr’s worst spot, but it yielded in the best response.

            “You know, I’ve missed this,” Hamilton mused, both teasing and being sincere. “And, since you’re not fighting back, it seems you have too.”

            Burr didn’t protest; he really was having a good time. This had been one of the worst years of his life and he’s been in a shit mood for some time, on top of anxiety around his encounter with Hamilton a month ago. The fingers skittering across his rib cage felt like a temporary release from the monsters in his mind. This he could handle with ease. That is, until Hamilton decided to go for the kill.

            “Alex!” Burr nearly screeched, dropping all formalities as Hamilton began lightly squeezing his lower stomach, the small patch of fat being extra sensitive. Burr knew Hamilton was going to finish his attack soon. Hamilton knew that Burr couldn’t handle this spot being teased for too long.

            “I don’t think you’ve called me that since the eighties,” Hamilton wore a sly smile, giggling to himself. Hamilton was the sort of person to laugh along with the person he was tickling, especially if their laughter was as contagious as Burr’s. It wasn’t his fault that Burr’s laugh was loud and giggly, a stark contrast to his typical stoic persona.

            “Stop, please,” Burr finally let out, holding out for a good five minutes. It was fun, in a way, but it had gotten to be too much.

            “Damn, you really let me have some fun there,” Hamilton teased, now standing in front of Burr, hands behind his back as he bounced on his toes. Burr took a minute to respond, having to release the final residual huffs of mirth and uncurl himself into a proper sitting position.

            “I guess I did,” Burr replied, smile still wide on his face. “Now, I think it would be fair if you repaid the favor.”

            “Oh, I-I,” Hamilton stammered, his face reddening. Burr knew this was a go ahead.

            Standing up, Burr practically lifted Hamilton and walked him across the room to the couch. Gently plopping him down onto the sofa, Burr straddled the younger man and began to dance his fingers across the entirety of Hamilton’s torso.

            “Burr!” Hamilton squealed in delight, grabbing Burr’s wrists, but didn’t try to push them away.

            Burr knew that Hamilton loved this, always had. He had always suspected that Hamilton liked the attention, the touch. His childhood had been rough, so Burr assumed that this quirk had stemmed from this. He, of course, had never wanted to press. There was absolutely nothing wrong with this somewhat charming quirk, so he never questioned.

            “Still as ticklish as ever, huh?” Burr let out a low chuckle as he fluttered his fingers on either side of Hamilton’s neck. Burr knew he wouldn’t respond, Hamilton’s neck being a weak point that always sent him into hysterical giggles. “Hm, you’re lucky I’ve never done this in front of the other senators. I’m sure they would have a kick out of this.”

            “Asshole,” Hamilton replied, now able to speak as Burr’s fingers danced along his lower ribs. His ability to speak would soon be ripped away from him, as Burr’s response to his crude remark was to crawl his fingers downward along his sides, to knead into his hips.

            “Burr!” Hamilton’s voice was as loud as it could possibly be, his laughter booming as Burr attacked his most sensitive spot. This specific laugh always made Burr join in, as the laugh itself was adorably funny to listen to, along with it being very apparent that Hamilton was having a delightful time.

            As Burr went to town on Hamilton’s hips, Theodosia quietly laughed to herself, peering out from behind her door, with only a partly obstructed view of the living room. She had been lingering there for a while, having heard her father’s deep laugh, and had to investigate. It had been years since she had heard him really laugh, long before her mother died. Burr looked much younger, relaxed.

            “Thank you,” Theodosia whispered under her breath, letting out a sigh as she smiled to herself.

[gizm0-gadgetz]

Another older fic featuring gadget. This may actully be the first fic i wrote with em. Tim a bit out of charecte in this me thinks but there is some cool info in this. Their sword is different now but oh well

An Eye for an Eye

    Gadget leaned heavily on their cane as they removed themself from the group. These people sure were rough. It wasn't anything they couldn't handle but they hadn't been prepared and now they could feel their skeleton seizing up. Really it was more uncomfortable than anything else.

    Once they were far enough away they sat down and began to mess with the parts that weren't sitting right. It wasn't too hard, thankfully the problems were mostly located in easy to reach places. It seemed they could really do with a polishing, their spikes needed sharpening for sure. They supposed it had been a while since they'd done real upkeep on everything. Everything else had just been moving so fast and they hadn't yet had a chance to sit down and clean up. 

    Their vision was starting to blur as they worked which was odd. The mechanical eye should have overpowered any problems with their biological eye. Once they pushed their goggles up the problem was obvious as a large smoke cloud came off them. Something must have shifted closer to their head thAn they thought. They scowled, sliding the spike they were sharpening back into place before carefully grabbing their eye. Now they would have to rely on their inferior eye as they messed with the small orb. Smoke was quickly making it hard to see as more bellowed out from the now empty socket. 

    With a heavy sigh they pulled a few small tools out and began fiddling with the delicate parts. One wrong move and they would be without an eye for a few days at least. As they were so focused on the piece in front of them, they completely missed the sound of footsteps even as heavy boots slammed against the floor. After a delay they were able to feel the vibrations, quickly causing their spine to go into defensive mode. It wasn't immediately clear who had just entered the area and because of that it was hard to tell if they should be on guard. Tension hung in the silent air for a good few minutes before they began to move again, clutching their eye in one hand and forcing themselves to their knees with the help of the other. 

    “You smoke?” The visitor finally asked and immediately they recognized it as Gunpowder Tim. They thought it over carefully before opening their mouth to respond, managing to inhale smoke and cough even more out. With a grimace they forced fully to their feet, attempting to angle themself in a way that wouldn't show too much.

    “Mm…no. Not really.” They sighed, trying to force themself  to relax even as Tim stepped closer. He definitely had a different walking pattern then the others they'd seen. “How good is your vision?” 

    “I'm sorry?” 

   “Your eyes. How well can they see? I may need a little bit of…” They bit their lip, having to swallow their pride. “Assistance. I can't make out the details with this piece of shit. The smoke will stop once I've fixed it and got it back in place.” Carefully they fidgeted with the small sphere, passing it through their fingers as they spoke.

    “That depends on what you need help with.” They could hear fabric shifting, presumably he put his hands in one of his many pockets but they couldn't tell without looking back at him. Taking a deep breath they held up their eye, the brass hitting the light just right to almost glow. It was silent for a bit and they began to regret bringing it up. “Why can't you do it exactly? You seem pretty self sufficient.” 

    “I can't see. With the smoke i cannot wear my goggles which means no lens which means that my awful eyesight has come back to bite me in the ass.” They scowled, fighting the urge to crush it in their hand. 

   “Yeah I can help.” He sounded so casual, it took them by surprise when he sat down near them. Tim was quite tall, managing to be up to their waist even when sitting down on the floor. They paused to look at him, trying to study his face even though they could barely see anything. His own unnatural eyes seemed to shine in the dim lighting. “What exactly am I supposed to do?” They sighed and sat down, spikes slowly retracting. 

    “Just need you to tell me what is under the tools. I can do it fine from muscle memory. Just need to be in the right spot.” They took the glove off their left hand to make it easier to roughly see the dark sphere against their pale skin. “So just describe what you see.” 

    “Seems easy enough.” It took Tim a bit to figure out how to describe it in a way that worked, but he learned pretty quickly. Apart from the occasional correction on where the tools were hovering neither of them spoke to each other. Gadget occasionally cursed under their breath as they worked but stayed silent otherwise. “I've always wondered,” He starts as they're finishing up. They glance up at him for a moment before focusing on refitting everything in their skull. “The cane you walk with.”

   “What about it?” 

   “Shouldn't the mechanism be enough?” His eyes drifted to their raised spine details. They didn't answer right away, presumably focused on hooking everything up right. 

    “Hand it to me.” They held their hand out, really they should have been able to do it themself but he grabbed it for them anyways. They said nothing as they felt for a specific notch by the top. “Hm. The glass cracked.” They grumbled quietly before shaking their head and unlatching it. A beautiful silver sword came out, clearly well taken care of and not used particularly often. 

    “Concealed weapon!” He gasped softly, reaching to touch it. They grabbed his hand and glared so he quickly retracted. “Hidden in plain sight huh.” 

    “Something like that.” They shrugged, putting it back in the holder. “I do use it as a cane when parts shift. Besides, it draws suspicion away. Didn't yall think that yourselves when we met?” They grinned, metal fangs glistening in the pale light. He took a moment to think about it. They had doubted Gadget's ability to be useful considering their first impression of them was because they were stuck and needed rescuing. 

    “What about the tail?” He asked, watching how it moved as they stood up. 

    “Now what?” They stared at him with a perplexed expression as he stood up. 

    “Is it like Jonnys?” 

    “Nope.” They shrugged, popping the p quite loudly. “Completely fake. Why are you so curious about this anyways.” He didn't like how they seemed to stare into his soul, examining every minor movement he made. 

    “I'm just curious- you've been with us for a bit now and we know nothing about you.” He shrugged, trying to play the nerves off. “It's not often we even bring someone else with us.” 

    “Yeah so? Did you stop to consider that I did that on purpose? You don't need to know much about me when I don't plan on sticking around.” They scoffed, leaning on their cane before looking back at where the rest of the group was. “Why did you come over here in the first place.” 

    “Jonny sent me to get you.”

    “Of course he did. Bastard wouldn't do it himself.” He watched them roll their eyes before pulling the goggles back over their face. Just like that he couldn't make out much of their expression anymore, face hidden behind tinted glass. “By the way,” They had started walking but stopped and looked back at him. “Keep your mouth shut. There's really no reason for anyone else to know.” After a moment of silence they sighed and began walking away again. 

    Tim didn't know what to say and just watched them go. He wanted to know them a bit more, he wasn't even sure why. Maybe he just wanted someone with similar experiences. He didn't take much time to think about it, returning to the group shortly after they did. There was stuff to be done, no time to waste thinking. 

[toads-treasures]

For Leda and Cori (but feel free not to do both or to skip questions or anything)!

What is your Tav’s origin story? 

What is your character’s moral alignment?

How does your Tav get along with each party member?

Does your Tav consider themselves a hero, villain, victim or something else?

-wayhavenots :)

Ahhh thank you for the ask!!! I tried so hard not to let this get too long and uhhhhhh I failed 😂 I was way too excited to talk about my DIY blorbos

What is your tav’s origin story?

Staring off with my first ever Tav Leda!!

She’s actually had a lot of different origin stories 😂 before I ever had the game, and I was just obsessively theorizing I thought it would be funny to have a little pink murder muffin. So I set out to make the cutest, sparkliest, most pastel candy colored character and have that be my Dark Urge character! I did not consider the fact that I cannot be mean to pixels, and I restarted after one (1) uncontrolled murder lol.

So Leda’s backstory took a hard left and she’s been through many iterations, but the tldr version is she was born into a noble house, but was banished from it at a young age because of her uncontrolled magic and a tragic incident involving hellish rebuke She ran as far from home as she could and took any odd job offered to her, and when she inevitably had a surge of wild magic that would cause her to lose said job, she’d move on. I picked the urchin background for her in game, but this is what is in the Deep Lore of my brain lol. Someday I do want to do a dark urge run with her, but, we shall see if I am strong enough 😂

Now for my new Tav, Corisandre!

Cori was raised on the road with her family (parents and older sister Lyra, and younger sister Melody). Her mother is a cleric of Kelemvor (god of death) and travels around the sword coast preforming last rites, taking care of the undead and general Cleric of Death business. Her father is a bard and handyman. He’d often preform (sing and play the lyre) or do repair work around a tavern in exchange for lodgings on the road. Most people preferred his handiwork over his singing lol. Her family often came in contact with a traveling group of performers that seemed to follow similar routes as her and her family. Cori loved watching them. They were much more polished and professional than what she and her dad would do, as they were both self taught. She befriended several members of the troop, particularly a talented lute player, a boy named Lark. They were happy to teach her more about music and preforming, and the magic they used to enhance their talents with both. Then, when she was eighteen there was a long period of time where she didn’t see the troop at all. When her family finally ran into them again, she discovered that they’d been attacked on the road and several members, including her friend Lark, had died. Cori was devastated, and decided to join the troop, hoping to protect them on the road. She was with them up until she got kidnapped by the mindflayer ship.

What is your character’s moral alignment? Does your Tav consider themselves to be more of a hero, a villain, a victim or something else?

I’m going to combine these two questions a bit!!

Leda is chaotic neutral, but that changes to chaotic good as she gets a little bit of guidance from a certain Blade of Frontiers. She’s always admired people who would be considered “good aligned” but often felt too cowardly to become so herself. Her magic has hurt people more often than it’s helped, and so she’s spent most of her life trying to repress it, never really learned how to control it or use it for “good”. But she’s working on it now! And now that she has an actual support system (Wyll cough cough, Honeylark) being a “hero” comes much easier.

Cori is neutral good!

She’s always willing to lend someone a hand if it’s within her means to do so, and is quick to stand up for anyone vulnerable, part of the reason she joined the preforming troop was to protect them. I don’t think she’d really consider herself a hero though. In her mind she’s just a silly little bard who happens to be pretty good with stabbing things that need stabbing lol. She can’t be considered lawful good, though she was kind of raised with a similar set of principles, but she’s not quite as erratic as Leda 😂

How does your Tav get along with each party member?

Cori is so new that I’m not really sure yet!! So far, she has the highest approval with Gale, then shadowheart and Karlach. She initially was a little ruffled by Lae’zel but only because she was mean to the very scared Tiefling, Zorru, in the grove and Cori is very protective of other tieflings lol. But she’s got crazy high insight stats, so I think she’s quick to realize that pretty much all of these people are terrified. She knows Lae’zel is so far from anything even remotely familiar and she doesn’t take her brusk attitude to heart really. Overall she’s quite fond of all of them, particularly a very verbose wizard, and a fiery, kind hearted tiefling.

Led gets along very well with pretty much everyone! But she’s also a pathological people pleaser at the beginning lol, so it might have been hard to tell what was genuine connection and what was her doing whatever it took to make herself seem useful so they wouldn’t leave her behind.

I think initially Shadowheart, Astarion and Lae’zel found her naive and silly. Astarion in particular thought she’d be an easy mark for his plan of “seduction for protection” but she was also oblivious to him attempting to come on to her and he gave up pretty quick 😂 I think she feels the closest, friend wise, with shadowheart and Karlach. Lae’zel was and is slightly terrifying to her but she likes her a lot, one of her favorite things is telling Lae’zel the summary of novels (usually romance novels) she’s read while they walk, but changing them up to be much more violent and battle heavy to keep Lae’zel interested. At first she avoids Gale, she’s intimidated by his knowledge of magic and feels very insecure about her own abilities (or lack there of) but he grows to be a very good teacher! He’s very patient with her and she likes listening to him but she is my adhd queen so if there’s not something to keep her hands busy while she’s talking her eyes will glaze over.

With the later companions, Halsin Jaheira and Minsc, Leda adores them all and sees them as role models/parental figures, especially Jaheira. Though Minsc is definitely more of a fun uncle type 😂

And then last but not least, the pride of the gate Wyll Ravengard himself. Leda was smitten with him from literally the first moment she saw him. His introduction at the grove, the way he was so kind to the Tiefling children, girl was practically swooning. She’s always loved romance/adventure stories and Wyll seems like he basically stepped out of one. She’s met people before who may play the part of hero, who pretend to be a knight in shining armor. But she’s never met anyone who actually embodies those ideals like Wyll does. And the more she gets to know him, the more she admires him, and the more she worries about his selflessness turning to self destruction.

[cerebraldischarge]

“Coming back to where you started is not the same as never leaving.” - Terry Pratchett

My right ear is still a little wonky from the loop-de-loop I did around the Catholic bits of the Second World - the doubly traumatized bits, if you will. But I don’t wanna talk about trauma again, lest I risk sounding thoroughly bromidic. But how about blue milk?

I know, it’s a Star Wars gimmick. But in the center of Warsaw, behind a towering hotel that’s so expensive it made me turn my tail and run, there’s a little place that’s simply called “the place to drink beer and vodka”, according to what Google told me about the blue neon sign above the door. (Straight and to the point, I guess.) It gave refuge to me when I was forlorn, my phone was dying and I was thirstier than a 50-year-old virgin looking at OnlyFans pages. Here, blue milk consists of: milk (obviously), white rum, and curacao liqueur, and it’s absolutely ambrosial.

Oh, that bit about being desperate. Yeah… I wandered out of my comfort zone a little too much this weekend. I’ve been to foreign places before, but written Dutch is easily decipherable if you have some idea of English, German, and how they are related to one another, so at least I could read the signs there; and even in the beach town in Croatia I could rely on finding someone who spoke at least rudimentary English when I got confused. I even liked to strike up some conversation with the Bolt drivers I hailed for succor. One of them - a handsome bald lad - told me that his best friend hung himself due to financial difficulties and that’s why he’s studying finance at university now. Another - an older gentleman - urged me to start going to church again and confess my sins. He just assumed I was raised Catholic by default - which I sort of was, but it’s not as much of a given for me as it would be down there. It was a charming interaction, albeit a little awkward - as it always is when religion comes up. My tattooist was also an older gentleman there, in Zadar’s medieval old town center, and we chatted throughout the 20-minute procedure, mostly about his interesting and very ocean-connected life. I also talked a bit with the cashier at a sex shop. (For some reason, I always end up going to these to ask for directions. Not even kidding, it happened in Munich and Berlin.)

All of that, and I mean all of it, went out of the window in Poland. Two people - the guy who made me blue milk and the hostel receptionist - understood me. The rest of them inexplicably assumed that if they talk louder in Polish, I’ll get it eventually. In the Vietnamese restaurant, I could rely on the good old “point at your order” method; in the grocery store I did not say a word, just like at home - by the way, some of their dried meat products are freaking phenomenal. As far as getting around goes, I glued my eyes to the little blue dot that was representing me, and relied on automatic functions as much as possible. Truth be told, I couldn’t read a damn thing on the streets, nor could I make heads or tails out of what was said to me, and this was utterly disorienting. It’s not like I let it stop me, but holy mackerel, it did put some things into perspective. So this is what my father experienced when he overheard me on a Zoom call (with the additional weirdness of his own offspring slowly becoming a foreigner to him, no doubt). So this is what all monolingual people go through when they get out of their little cultural bubble - or nonverbal autistic people every day, for that matter. This is the scary part I’ve been hearing about!

This gets us back to where we started - or rather, why I started: why I opened Skyscanner, completely sober this time, and clicked some buttons in the first place. Because I was bored. Because I had enough of my room and my antisemitic ancient aliens conspiracy theorist landlord and my corrupt leaders and my own little environment, and wanted something new. Well, I got it. This morning, I couldn’t wait to get back to the bitch cave. I had enough of being confused, hearing unrecognizable words, feeling alone, and all that. I did get some seriously cool cemetery photos out of it, and I met some cats, and I got closer to a bunch of squirrels than I ever dared to surmise, and I shot some guns again (http://pmshooter.pl if any of you happens to show up the area; being Easterners, don’t expect the staff to be overly friendly, but they are definitely professional and you can actually get some limited full-auto time in, unlike in my corner of the woods) - I even got a fancy bracelet made of the bottoms of .357 Magnum rounds, so I wouldn’t say I didn’t enjoy it or it wasn’t worth it, but by the gods, I was bone-weary by the time it was over.

Oh, and the beach part? I wish I could have stayed longer (I tried to ask for 3 nights but they only had vacancy for 2), but perhaps I got precisely what I went for. Namely, a moment of what felt like absolute clarity - something my skeptical, prying, curious, contrarian mind rarely allows to happen. Swimming in the ocean at sunset, I felt something enigmatic and numinous. First of all, I was no longer uncomfortable in my body. The ever-present itches, aches, stickiness, clumsiness dissolved in the water, and I was just frolicking around like a child. (Perhaps this is why I loved swimming so much as an actual child: it freed me from being a sensitive-skinned, gravity-bound klutz.) Then the waves started throwing me around like a wine cork. A thought occurred to me: This is the real world, the stuff that exists independently of humanity - and by dying, I’m not leaving it behind, I’m becoming a part of it. With this came a neoteric lightness, a beatific state devoid of wonted anxieties. I was having the time of my life bobbing up and down, half willingly, half out of control - and I accidentally drank a sip of the salty water. Another thought occurred to me: Sodium nitrite is going to taste something like this, I’ve been told. So I shouldn’t be scared of it. Yeah, it’s not my original favorite, but… At that moment, I felt like I could completely trust it and shouldn’t be afraid of failure. What’s more, this happened on Thursday evening - that is, the 17th, which is my lucky number and the start of the last month countdown to the first anniversary of my father’s death (and likely my final day, unless something else happens - I dare not to make promises anymore, for as my dear father used to say: “Man plans, and god…dammit, there’s always something in the way”). I’m not one for magical thinking, but this coincidence pleases me greatly. If I was into the pervasive mysticism of our age, I’d take it as a sign - as the universe trying to reassure me that I’m on the right track. As it is, I take everything with a grain of salt. But this experience definitely put me more at ease with my circumstances, including the one that has been a thorn in my side for as long as I can recall: the conspiracy between my ineptitude regarding illicit activities and the bureaucratic paranoia of all the governments I’ve seen so far, which results in the vexatious fact that I still don’t possess a firearm and in all likelihood never will. Before you ask - yes, I did ask around for leftovers from the 1990s while I was in Croatia, but all I got was apologetic smiles and something along the lines of “I don’t know about that” every single time. Whether that answer was honest or not, I couldn’t discern. Perhaps someone with more time, better people skills, and more knowledge of the local language could conduct a more fruitful expedition.

My budget suffered greatly, but I grew as a person. The end becomes clearer and clearer, and I’m present for the grand finale.

[dragonmasterhiccup]

Ayla sneezed once more, wiping her nose with the rag her sister had given her. "Uh, I -I think someone's knocking.." She cleared her throat, uncomfortable with the dryness it held, despite drinking the water. After Freya heard her, she reluctantly got up from her spot next to the bed, quickly running down the stairs to answer whoever thought it was a good time to show up at her doorstep.

"I'm busy right now what do you w--" She began, abruptly cutting herself off as she acknowledged that no one was actually there. She blinked, confused - and rather angry - that someone was either playing tricks on her or she was hearing things. Finally glancing down, she noticed the basket filled with the necessities that would prove themselves extremely helpful to Ayla.

With amber eyes glancing around her home, she hesitantly picked it up, carefully examining it before seeing the small note. Realizing who it was from, Freya ignored the warmth that slowly started to creep upon her face - once again - and she placed the basket down on the steps, breathing heavily before she yelled out in frustration - or whatever feeling she was having at that moment. She stomped her feet on the ground for a second, scanning her surroundings a final time as she begrudgingly picked up the basket.

"Stupid Hiccup, stupid, stupid, stupid--" Freya muttered, closing the door as she hauled the basket up the stairs inside, stopping in front of Ayla's door as she gathered her breath, slowly exhaling before stepping in her room. "Hey, uh, someone gave this to.. you." She set it down on the desk, handing her a piece of bread that she silently asked for by stretching out her hands for it.

"Mm - who did? How did they know I was.. sick?" Ayla's chewing became slower the more she thought about it, causing Freya to shake her head as she realized there was no escaping what she predicted to come, "Wait... isn't Hiccup the only other one who knows I'm sick!?" She coughed, having raised her voice too much, "Freya! Answer me..!"

She watched as her older sister avoided her gaze, mumbling out the words: "Yes.. he is.. but--" she was interrupted as Ayla tugged on her arm, pleadingly looking up at her, "Can you bring him here? Please? I wanna, uh, say thank you..!"

Freya's eye twitched, clenching her hands as she dragged her feet towards her sister's door once again. "I'm only doing this because of your condition.. other than that, he is never allowed back in here, you hear me?" She sighed, seeing Ayla frantically nod her head. As she forced herself out of the comfort of her home, she beckoned for Blaze to follow her as she went to the only place she thought Hiccup would be: the forge.

----

Upon seeing him, she stood outside of the workplace, hoping he wouldn't see her so she would have an excuse to say that Hiccup was nowhere to be found.

Seeing Freya pick up the basket, he urged Toothless to fly back towards the forge.

He had to get back to work.

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

"Everything settled, then?" Gobber questioned as soon as Hiccup returned.

"Yeah, uh, Ayla's not feeling well, she won't be around for a bit..."

"Oh, that's a shame. I liked having the likes of her around." Gobber then went back to work, finishing sawing some wood for axe and mace handles.

----------

That wood that Gobber sawed needed to be sanded and polished, and that's what Hiccup was doing when Freya arrived.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, as it had grown hot in the forge, he let out a sigh as he placed the final finished handle to the side, along with the others.

Sawdust surrounded his feet on the ground, and some had found its way into his hair, just the pieces covering his forehead though.

He stood up, going to grab a broom to clean up, and was sweeping the floor when he felt like he was being watched.

Looking up, he glanced around, confusion etched across his features until his eyes landed on Freya.

Going back to sweeping, he asked, "How's Ayla feeling?"

[aceopmari]

Hey! Could I ask for an hc/FF (deidara or how Akatsuki would react) with a reader older than them? (It can be whatever you want, SFW or NSFW) plss i love your work so much (and was a little shy to ask, english is not my first language, but I hope you can understand!)

A/N: Hi hon! Thank you so much for this request! Truth is, I had this concept in mind for Deidara already so I just had to do your request! Don't be shy! Also your english is good! Hope you enjoy!

Deidara x Sexy MILF Reader

TW: Age gap, hand job, breast sucking, explicit, violence, treading, seductive, femme fatale reader. Reader is hot and 30.

Sasori was dead. Deidara wouldn’t miss him too much though…

Today, the young Akatsuki member would be getting a new partner.

Leader had found use of her abilities, and she had quite the presence in the shinobi underworld.

Her name was Lady Y/N. A name known far and wide. A name feared by many men as she was given the title of ‘Man Eater.’

Deidara had already heard through the grapevine (Kisame) that Hidan tried his luck with you that resulted in him getting kicked in the dick (and of course Hidan enjoyed it).

Deidara shuddered a bit at the thought. But it was Hidan’s dumb luck that got himself in trouble.

Deidara had too much pride to allow himself to show fear. If anything, he didn’t even know what you looked like. How scary could a single woman be, hm?

…

…

…

Deidara walked back to the base after a solo mission with a folded cloak in hand that was given to him by Konan to give to his new partner. He heard the sound of giggling coming from the main room.

He opened the door to see a fully grown beautiful woman who appeared to be in her 30s. She had h/l hair, e/c eyes, and cherry red lips that blended well with her s/c skin.

You were seated in a chair relaxing while smoking from your kiseru pipe as Tobi gave you a pedicure. He dipped one of your feet in a bowl full of warm milk and honey before tending to your other foot to start painting your toes with f/c nail polish.

You hummed as you leaned your head in your hand that was resting on the armchair. Your eyes were closed as you smiled down at Tobi through your long lashes.

“Mmm yes, that’s a good boy Tobi~” you purred.

Deidara nearly shuddered. You had a very sultry voice.

“Yes Y/N-Chan! Tobi is a good boy!” Tobi cooed eagerly as he continued to paint your toes.

Deidara looked at Tobi in his usual disgust as he watched him give you a pedicure. ‘As if you weren’t pathetic enough, Tobi, hm…’

You noticed the presence of the young blonde and gave him a warm smile. “Ah! You must be Deidara!”

Deidara brought his attention back to you. He blinked, nearly taken by surprise by your friendliness.

“Yeah, that’s right. We’re going to be partners for now on, hm.”

You smirked as your eyes lidded. “I see…”

You turned back to Tobi who had just finished drying up your other your foot. “Tobi Honey? Why don’t you go take 5?”

Tobi immediately shot up. “Yes! Of course, Y/N-chan! I’ll be back soon!”

Deidara rolled his eyes as he watched Tobi skip out the room.

He was now left alone with you. You took your foot out of the warm milk bowl and quickly dryed it off with a towel before placing your heels on.

You turn your attention to Deidara and make a come here motion with a manicured finger. “Come closer, handsome…let me get a good look at you~”

Deidara’s cheeks flushed. You were quite straightforward as others say, but he wasn’t expecting you to come off so…seductive…

Deidara didn’t know what came over him as found himself walking closer to you. He got a better look at you.

You were clad in an off the shoulder kimono minidress that hugged your curves and revealed your cleavage.

Deidara nearly shuddered when he took in your strawberry vanilla-cream scent. Even combined with the smoke, your scent was so inviting and intoxicating.

You give Deidara a once over. He was very pretty to look at. His golden hair brought out his visible blue eye.

You had to resist the urge to lift up his bangs to get a better peek at those crystal blue lookers.

Your eyes fall to his headband. “Ah, now I know you! You were in the Explosion Corps weren’t you?”

Deidara gave you a look of surprise. “You’ve heard of me?” He had to resist the urge to try and not sound too proud of how his reputation had spread far an wide.

You gave him a friendly, warm smile as you tilted your head. “Of course! I’ve done business with your little organization in the past.”

You brought your pipe to your lips before letting out a circular puff of smoke release from them.

“So tell me…how’s Gari?”

Deidara raised an eyebrow. You were the real deal. You’ve clearly done your homework. “You knew my mentor?”

You nodded. “Mmhm…”

Your eyes lidded. “He was a…good boy…” you purred as you elegantly crossed your legs. Deidara’s cheeks flushed as his eyes slightly widened. Just what did you do to his mentor?

‘Yikes…she really is a man eater, hm…’ he thought. Deidara nearly gulped. He just couldn’t let his fear shown, lest he’d be your next victim.

Deidara snapped out of his thoughts when he noticed you scanning his body up and down. He was starting to get uncomfortable. He raised a brow. “What are you staring at, hm?”

You giggled a bit. You were starting to get under his skin. “I was just thinking…you’re awfully young to be an Akatsuki.”

Deidara crossed his arms defensively. “So?”

“So, how old are you?”

“19.”

Your lips curl into a cat like smirk as your eyes lit up. “Mmm…Nasty 19…it’s been so long since I met a man with so much vigor…” you purred.

Deidara flinched at your predatory tone, but you weren’t done yet.

“Youth and good looks…I wonder what else you’re…” your eyes fall down to the red cloud over his crotch.

“…Packing~”

You take another puff from your pipe. This time the smoke you blew out towards Deidara was heart shaped.

Deidara’s eyes slowly widened as his cheeks now flushed. “W-wha?”

You giggled again at his flustered nature. Deidara glared at you. “I’m not a kid so don’t treat me like one! How old are you anyway?!”

There was another naughty glint in your eye. This young boy was going to be a wild card.

You cross your arms under your chest snd give them a lift. “Old enough…” you purred.

Deidara gulps as he stares at your ample cleavage. They were round, lifted, and quite full.

“Y’know it’s impolite to ask a woman her age. Didn’t mommy ever teach you manners?” You teased.

Deidara glared at you again. “Hey!” Your smirk did not falter. “It’s okay I’ll teach you…you could call me mommy too if you’d like. Lady Y/N is fine too…” you winked.

Deidara’s cheeks were now burning. You chuckled as you threw your head back a bit. He glared at you. “S-Shut up!”

“Anyways, here’s your cloak. Try and see if it fits, hm!” Deidara tosses your cloak at your lap, making you stop laughing and raise a brow at his rudeness.

Deidara smirked in triumph seeing how he has gotten under your skin a little. You shrug it off with a sigh as you got up while picking up your cloak. You turn around as you examine it. “Hmm, I sure hope this is my size.”

Deidara mentally noted how tall you were compared to him. You were at least 5’11.

His eyes fell to the beautiful curves on your ass. You were quite gifted. He almost whimpered as he watched you put on your cloak which covered your ass.

You turned around as you finished putting on your cloak. “How do I look?”

“Fine, I guess,” Deidara shrugs. You raise an eyebrow at him. “‘Fine, I guess?’ That’s not good enough.”

Deidara rolled his eyes. What were you expecting him to say?

Your lips curled into a smirk as your manicured fingers found their way to the red zipper.

ZZZZIIIP!

Deidara’s eyes followed the movements of your zipper. He watched as your cleavage slowly spilled out a bit before jiggling back in place.

You stop the zipper just below your chest. “There. Now this is a lot more comfortable~” you purr.

Deidara’s eyes continue to scan the curves of your breasts. They looked so smooth as the twin mounds were perfectly shaped. ‘Oh wow…’ he thought in amazement.

Your cherry lips broke into a grin. “So Deidara…is this your first time with a woman?”

Deidara stared at you in bewilderment as he blinked. His cheeks were starting to flush again. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “…Excuse me?”

“I mean as a partner, of course~” you purred. Deidara cleared his throat as he did his best to calm down. “O-oh…”

You giggled once more. “Did you think I was referring to something else?”

Deidara’s cheeks burned with red as he glared at you. He had enough of your obnoxious flirting and decided to put you in your place.

“Listen, lady! Just quit your yapping and do what your told! You’re new to the Akatsuki so you rank under me, got it, hm?!” He exclaimed.

“Oh!” You stared at Deidara with wide eyed surprise as you blinked. You weren’t expecting him to shout back at you like that.

‘Well now. He definitely looks serious. I should be more civil with my coworker I suppose,’ you thought.

You placed your hand on your hip as you nodded. “Alright. I’ll trust your judgement, Honey. Don’t disappoint me.”

Deidara glared at you.

“DON’T CALL ME, HONEY! HM!”

TWACK!

“-AH!”

Deidara stumbled back a bit. He clutched his cheek that now had a slight scratch before glaring at you. “Y-You…!”

You held a small, elegant fan that you held threatening at Deidara. “I hate men who shout! Don’t speak to me that way!” You hissed.

Deidara growled as he brought a palm to his pouch full of clay. Now he was determined to put you in your place. It didn’t matter that you were a lady.

“You’re going to pay for that! I’ll show you my art!”

Deidara pointed his hand towards you. The hand was about to spit out clay but you had already picked up your kiseru pipe and shoved the tip into the mouth.

“-CKKKKKK!”

Sssssss!

Deidara howled out in pain as he fell back while clutching his arm. The hand mouth had been gagging and vomiting out clay upon contact with the pipe.

The hand mouth spat out the pipe and now had a burnt tongue.

Deidara glared up at you to meet your cold expression. “HOW DARE YOU?!” He balled up a fist and slowly started to get up. You immediately pinned him down by his chest with the heel of your shoe, stepping on him hard.

“AAH!”

Deidara squirmed. With each movement, you stepped on him even harder. Deidara coughed as he nearly felt his rib crack. He groaned in pain as he finally stopped resisting.

You leaned down towards him, narrowing your eyes. “I’ll say it again. Don’t you dare shout at me! Behave!” You hissed.

Deidara gave you a weak glare. How could he have lost so easily to such an old hag?

A rather…beautiful old hag…

Deidara’s eyes fell to your f/c 9 inch heel. He noticed a golden anklet that further brought out your firm and shapely legs.

Deidara gulped as his eyes traveled up your thighs that showed from underneath your Akatsuki cloak.

A f/c tattoo of a bloody flower rested on your inner thigh, which lead right up beneath your dress. A delicious sight it was.

Deidara snapped out of his thoughts when you jammed your heel hard against his chest. He wailed in pain as the heel of your shoe was just barely piercing his heart.

You pouted your plump lips as you pretend to make a sad face. “…Are you peeking up my dress?” You whispered.

Deidara shuddered as he felt his body heat up. The sensuous audio butter of your voice was so soothing.

“N-no…” he managed to say weakly.

You giggled.  “Aww, don’t be ashamed, Honey. I like my men young and naughty. But I’ll only give you a little peek if you’re a good boy okay?”

Deidara stared at you in shock. ‘This lady’s a pervert! What is her deal?!’ He thought.

“Y/N-chan? Can I come back now?” Tobi’s voice said from outside the room.

Deidara turned his head to the door. His eyes widened with panic. He’d rather die than let someone like Tobi see him in such a compromising position.

You smirked down at Deidara, sensing his panic. “Yes, come in, Tobi,” you say sweetly.

Deidara brought his panic gaze to you, which made you giggle. “Okay, comingggg!” Tobi sang.

Deidara tried to squirm, but your heel just wouldn’t let him. He gasped when he heard the doorknob open.

You immediately take your heel off his chest, and grab his arm as you yank him towards you.

BOING!

Deidara widened his eyes as he found his face pressed directly against your full, warm breasts. The seductive, curved, lumps felt so plush and soft, yet still very firm and very tight.

He had never been this close to a woman before, let alone one he’d just met. You smiled down at Deidara as he let out a relieved sigh.

You pulled him close and rubbed his back soothingly. “Does that feel, good?” You purred. Deidara let out a moan as he fluttered his eyes shut. Your breasts smelled like cherry blossoms.

Tobi who had walked in, put his gloves hands on his face in an exaggerated fashion. “Oh my! Am I interrupting something?”

Deidara widened his eyes as he blushed. He’s completely forgotten about Tobi.

The young Akatsuki pried away from your grasp and glared at Tobi, feeling his face heat up more by the second.

“TOBI! JUST GO AWAY!”

Tobi threw his hands up and screamed as he ran away.

You pouted. “Hey now, that wasn’t very nice! Who’s gonna finish my pedicure now?”

Deidara turned on his heel and stormed away. “Not my problem, hm!” You responded with a giggle which got under Deidara’s skin before you sat back down and resumed your pedicure.

…

…

…

The following day, you and Deidara were assigned on a mission to capture the 3 Tails. You marveled are the sight of the large clay bird that Deidara summoned.

“My, my! This bird is quite lovely,” you smiled. Deidara smirked, happy to see that his precious art was being appreciated. “Beautiful isn’t? You’ve got quite the eye, hm.”

“But of course. I do hope you keep me entertained,” you say as you brought your hand up towards him expectingly.

Deidara raised an eyebrow at you. ‘Awfully presumptuous isn’t she?’ He thought.

Deidara reached to give you his hand and pulled you back up on the bird. It immediately took flight.

You hummed as you took in the fresh breeze. You’ve never flown this high before and the sight was quite beautiful.

You stared at Deidara’s back as he focused on the direction in front. His golden hair blew in the wind. ‘Mmm, he’s so handsome. I may have been too rough on the young boy. I should try to make nice with him,’ you thought.

…

…

…

After the two of you landed, you both walk alongside a lake and chatted casually about art.

Deidara smirked. “I’m impressed! You have quite the taste for the arts for an old lady, hm.”

Your eyes darkened. “Old…?”

TWACK!

“AAH!”

CRASH!

You had Deidara pinned to a nearby tree trunk, pressing your arm to his neck causing him to gag. He squirmed in your grasp. “Hey, let me go!”

Deidara gasped when his blue eyes met your scary e/c that locked him in a scary gaze.

“DON’T. CALL. ME. OLD!” You growled.

Deidara started to shake with fear, but he couldn’t afford to let that show. He started to squirm once more. “Let me go already, hm!”

Deidara stopped struggling. Your grip was just too firm. His eyes fell to your breasts that were just inches from touching his face. His cheeks flushed as he watched a bead of sweat roll down the curves of your breasts.

You smirked. “Enjoying the view, Honey?” Deidara widened his eyes. His cheeks burned upon realizing that he had been caught staring.

You chuckled at that. Deidara growled as he squirmed again. “Let me go!” He barked. Your eyes lidded. “Sure~”

You immediately let him go, prompting Deidara to push past you as he storms off. You giggle as you follow him. “You’re very cute when you’re angry, Honey~!”

Deidara’s face was now red as a tomato. “Ugh! Quit calling me, Honey! Stop messing around already!” Your eyes fall to the red cloud on his backside. You loved the way it moved. “Mmm…I love a man who’s dominate!”

Smack!

Deidara let out a yelp when he felt a hand on his backside. He stopped in his tracks and stared at you in bewilderment as you howled in laughter at his reaction.

‘…Did this lady really just smack my butt?’ He thought. “What’s wrong with you?!” He exclaims. “Relax, Hon. You are 18, right?” You winked.

“That’s not the point! And I’m 19!”

“Ah, that’s right! Nasty 19! So grown yet so young~!”

Deidara growled again as his cheeks burned once more. He was about to say something but the sound of roaring and splashing water alerted both of your attentions.

You both turned to see that the 3 Tailed Beast has erupted from the water, waving its tentacles furiously.

“It’s the 3 Tails! There’s our target!” Deidara said.

You nodded at the sight. “I see…well then…”

You dig into your cleavage and pull out a powder compact. Deidara turns to look at you in confusion as he watches you powder your soft cheeks. “Um…what are you doing…?” He asks incredulously.

“I’m retouching my makeup. Run along and go take care of the beast, Honey~” you say cooly as you switch out the powder compact for a tube of lipstick.

Deidara was now furious. He didn’t care if you were to beat him up for shouting, because now he was fed up.

“DAMMIT! I’M SICK OF YOUR CRAP, LADY! YOU’RE NOTHING BUT A-!”

TWACK!

Deidara screamed as the 3 Tails whacked him with its tentacle, slamming him against a tree. He groaned painfully as he slid down down the trunk.

You sigh as you rolled your eyes as you placed your tube of lipstick between your breasts. “Must I do everything?”

You instantly stood on your hands and started spinning on them rapidly as you spread your legs widely, creating a cyclone.

“WIND STYLE: PERFUME FEMUR!”

You spun rapidly towards the 3 Tails, tearing the surrounding trees out of their trunks as you brought the cyclone with you.

You spun high in the air and connected your heels to the 3 Tails, causing it to scream in pain as it slowly sank below the water.

Deidara stared at you in shock and awe as he blinked. He wasn’t expecting you to take it down in one blow. You truly were a dangerous woman. ‘She tore down half the forest with her legs…just how powerful is she?’ He thought.

You turned back to Deidara. “Don’t just stand there, Honey! Wrap him up and reel him in! Chop chop!”

Deidara growled as he slowly got up and made his way over as he clutched his stomach a bit. “S-stop calling me, honey already!”

…

…

…

After successfully capturing the 3 Tails and bringing it back to the hideout, Deidara sat in the infirmary on the bed, waiting for Kakuzu to help treat him.

He took off his cloak and cringed at the sight of the scratch on his stomach that he received during the mission. “Man what a pain…”

The door then opened. Deidara glanced up and saw you walking in, wearing your sexy kimono minidress. “How are you feeling, Honey?” You asked as you walked towards Deidara.

He looked at you in confusion. “What are you doing here, hm?” You smiled. “Didn’t anyone tell you? I’m the new medical nin for the Akatsuki!” You say as you set your bag of tools down on the bed next to him.

“I see…” Deidara says. ‘Strong, smart, and she has a unique taste of art…not to mention beautiful…’ he thought. But he was still too prideful to admit it.

“Take off your shirt,” you suddenly say. Deidara widened his eyes. “What?!” You narrowed your eyes at him. “Get your mind out of the gutter! I saw you holding your stomach the whole way back. I need to have a look at you.”

Deidara’s cheeks flushed. “R-right…” He then took off his shirt, exposing himself. You examined the little scratch on his stomach and placed a hand on it.

Deidara turned away and bit his lip tightly. He held back a shudder as the sensation of your manicured hand sent shivers down his spine.

“Just a slight scratch. I’ll put on some ointment,” you say. Deidara watched as you opened your bag and pulled out a small tube,

You opened the tube and squeezed the white creamy substance onto your fingers before rubbing it onto Deidara’s abs.

Deidara hissed at the contact as he gripped the ends of the bed. “I know it hurts, Honey. But I need you to hold still for me, okay?” You say softly as you massage the cream.

Deidara gulped. He wasn’t hissing due to the pain, but rather he was holding back a moan. The feel of your fingers and the cold cream was absolutely soothing.

Deidara felt his cheeks get redder by the second. He couldn’t remember a time where a woman touched him like this. Let alone someone so grown…

Deidara’s eyes fell to your delicious cleavage. They jiggled a bit as you moved. He mouthed a ‘wow’ as he found himself mesmerized by the movements.

You took your hand off his abs. “Does it hurt anywhere else, Honey?” Deidara snapped out of his trance. “Oh! Um…well…” His eyes nervously fell to his lap.

You glanced down at it and placed your hand on his leg. “Here?” Deidara nearly flinched at the touch. He couldn’t even meet your concerned eyes. “…Higher…” he managed to say. “…Near my…”

“Here?” You slid your hand up his inner thigh, making Deidara gulp. He nodded slowly. “Mm.”

You nodded in acknowledgement. “Alright…” You dig into your bag and pull out a small towel before turning back to Deidara.

“Take off your pants,” you tell him. Deidara widened his eyes. “Wait a minute-!” “-I have this towel to cover your modesty. Relax, I won’t see,” you interject as you open the towel.

Deidara nervously got off the bed. His slowly shaking hands gripped the bands of his pants. You hold the towel close to his crotch as Deidara let’s his pants fall to his ankles.

Deidara sat back on the bed as you laid the towel on his crotch. You then squeeze some more ointment onto your hand before sliding it up under Deidara’s towel to rub cream on his inner thigh.

Deidara’s breath hitched. He could feel his body heat rising up and your warm hand massaged the cold cream against his inner thigh.

Every so often, your manicure just barely scratched the veins of his twitching shaft, and boy was it ever a lovely friction.

Deidara’s eyes fluttered shut as he took in the sensation. He could feel his cock ache a bit more by the second.

You glanced up at Deidara after noticing how he’s been awfully quiet. You raise an eyebrow in amusement. ‘He looks relaxed, doesn’t he?’ You thought.

You glanced back down at the towel, noticing it had formed a tent. Your eyes widened. “O-oh…”

You watched the tip rise up more by the second. ‘Is he…hard?’ Your eyes filled with lust as you stared at the toweled cock in amazement.

You couldn’t help but lick your lips. Despite your reputation, the truth of the matter was that you hadn’t touched a dick since your late husband died.

You craved some action, as you were sick of merely flirting attractive men you saw.

A seductive smirk plays on your lips. ‘Well you know what they say about Nasty 19~’ you thought blissfully.

You briefly take your hand off Deidara’s inner thigh and apply some more ointment onto your hands.

You then bring your hand up the small towel to rub the cream on Deidara’s dick. The young blonde Akatsuki gasped as his eyes shot wide. “Oh…”

You giggled at that. Deidara’s eyes met your lidded gaze. He shivered when he watched your tongue coat your cherry lips. “L-lady Y/N I-AAH!”

Deidara moaned when you started to stroke his shaft. He could feel his body heating up by the second.

“Shh~” you shushed. “Call me, Mommy~” You gripped Deidara’s dick as you slowly started to pump at the erect shaft. His breath grew heavier as sweat started to pour down his body.

“Don’t be nervous, Honey,” you cooed as you took the towel off his lap. You marveled at the sight. 5 1/2 inches wasn’t too bad at all.

“I’ll take good…care of you…” with that you press your manicured thumb against the pink spongey tip, causing pre cum to drip out. Deidara groaned as he threw his head back. He couldn’t believe what was happening and he sure didn’t want it to stop.

You smiled. “That’s a good boy, Honey…” You give his cock a few more pumps. Deidara felt himself get closer and closer. Just before he could cum, you took his hand off the shaft. He whined as you giggled.

“Don’t be upset, I was just about to give you a treat~” you purred. With that, you slip off your kimono minidress revealing your sexy red lingerie set, complete with garter straps and a belt.

Deidara’s eyes bulged out wide. “Oh wow…” His eyes scan your figure, not missing a single curve.

The patterns, colors, and lace of your lingerie brought out your beautiful s/c skin. Deidara always thought that art was a fleeting moment but you were an exception.

You put your leg over Deidara’s lap and straddle him. He shuddered when the lace fabric of your panties tickled the veins on his shaft. You could feel your clit throbbing with one as his tip just barely poked it through the fabric.

You reached one hand behind your back and unclipped your bra, letting it fall to the ground. Deidara’s heart beated like a drum. He had never seen breasts this big before.

You reached your hands behind Deidara’s head and slowly pulled him close. “Wanna taste?” You purred. “Please…” Deidara moaned desperately. “C’mere…” you whispered.

You hugged Deidara close, allowing him to suck your breasts. They were warm and slightly sweaty but otherwise tasty. He palmed your other breast, allowing his hand tongue to also have a taste.

“Whew!” You squeezed your eyes shut and threw your head back as you took in the sensations of the two mouths, coating up your tits with the slick.

You grip Deidara’s ponytail as you rolled your hips against his crotch. “Mmm, you’re such a bad boy, Honey~” you moaned.

Deidara’s cock twitched at the praise. It was safe to say that he now enjoyed being called Honey.

You slowly push Deidara off your breasts, causing him to whine as you lie him back against the bed. His breath hitched when you rubbed your hands down his chest slowly.

“Easy…easy…I’m taking control here…” you whispered. Deidara felt as though he was gonna have a heart attack. He wouldn’t mind one bit if he were to die this way. After all, att was an explosion.

You take yourself off of Deidara and slip off your panties before lowering yourself onto his dick, allowing him to slide in home.

Deidara made a pained expression. “…Mommy?!” He shrieked. “That’s right, I’m you’re new mommy now~” you purred.

You didn’t waste any time as you started to bounce your hips on his, pushing his dick deeper and deeper inside your gummy, wet walls.

Deidara squeezed his eyes shut. His cheeks burned as he growled. You felt so warm and tight. You squealed in delight as you through your head back, while enjoying the ride.

It had been so long since you had this much fun, especially with someone so young. You had to be careful not to get impregnated.

“LADY Y/N I-!”

You opened your eyes seeing a panicked/lust drunk expression on Deidara’s face. He looked like he was about to lose control of his body.

You removed yourself from Deidara, allowing him to cum all over your clit and stomach. You mewled at the wet warm sensation.

“What a ride!” You giggled. You gave Deidara a peck on the lips. “You were great, Honey~”

Deidara gave you a lazy smile as he breathed tirelessly. You chuckled at the sight as you got off of him.

To his surprise, you slowly pick him up bridal smile and carry him away. “Where are you taking me, My Lady, hm?” Deidara blushed finding himself surprised at the nickname, which only made you smirk.

“I said I was gonna take care of you didn’t I?” You winked. You kicked open the door that lead to a large bathroom.

“Let’s have a bath, Honey. I clean you right up~!”

A/N: Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! Feel free to send any requests and let me know if you want to be on the Baddie Taglist!

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Akatsuki Masterlist

[sissyjamieray]

My journey into feminization how did it begin? It is difficult to pin point a specific age, but I would guess I was about 11 years old. Yes, confused by sexual urges and excitement when looking at pictures of pretty girls in magazine ads wearing only panties and bras. Mmm, then 'borrowing' intimate female garments and wearing them. Feelng the overwhelming rush of pleasure and my first orgasm while wearing female clothing. Through the years I've tried to suppress this urges to dress as a woman. Being married was so frustrating as my wife left her intimate garments all over the house. It was like being in a candy store: bras, panties, lingerie all within reach. Unable to resist I would carefully try on bra or nightie when she was out shopping. At one point she mentioned something about one nightie being worn out in the "wrong" places. But she never questioned me. After all why would her man be turned on by wearing panties? Looking back she was very smart, she knew better than to confront me head on, lol. She knew I would not admit it or make up some bullshit story. She was very subtle, one night after making love she asked me if I had any sexual fantasies, my response was no love, none that I can think of. Another time she make the following comment, " I wish I had something to poke you with". Wow, she was so close. I was a bit stunted, didn't have a good response, lol. Several months later during our forplay love making she starts licking my nipples, omg, wtf!! Do you like it she says, with her hand on my growing manhood there was no escape, no denial. You like it don't you? I said yes, grasping for air and moaning as she began to rub the tip of my cock with her finger while continuing to lick and suck on my nipples. Then she slid her hand below my balls and started stroking and messaging the area just above my ass hole. After five minutes or this action she get up, pulls off her soaked panties then leans towards me with panties in hand and whispers in my ear, ' guess what I found in your bag Jim?' I found at least 10 pairs of my panties Jim, wtf all stained with your cum! "So you like to jerk off and cum in my panties, really?" What could I say but yes. I tried to explain why but she was upset? She then took her wet panties wrapped them around my almost limp manhood and said show me how you like you jerk off im my panties! I was so embarrassed, but I was wrong to have taken her things, this was my punishment, Yes? I reached down and started stroking my cock but it was very limp by now, I could not get hard. She saw my problem and whispers in my ear, "what's the problem, sissy panty boy, can't jerk off in front of your hot sexy wife? never touch my things again!, if you do, you will never fuck or cum inside me again. Do you understand me? Yes, hon I understand, good. Now where are my panties, Uh where you put them dear, yes they are yours now. Uh, keep them clean and if you wear these out (giggle) we will go out together and buy you more. Yes, I'll let the pretty sales lady know my size and yours (giggle). One more thing, when we make love, make sure you are wearing a clean pair of lacy pink panties. You are my panty boy husband now (giggle). I guess you better learn to get excited and hard while wearing female panties or you will never fuck me again (giggle): panty boy. Next day I after work I set out the task of hand washing 'my' panties in hope of getting lucky later that evening. Ok, hot water and some laundry soap and a 15 minutes soak, rinse and then toss into the dryer should to the trick right? Right before we went to bed I quickly grabbed my panties and climbed into bed. My wife had been observing my laundry duties activities that evening and I assumed we were cool. My hopes of an evening of

having sex where dashed when she turned the lights on stating: it's panty check time, stand up and let examine your feeble attempts to clean these! Ok, I can still see your nasty stains, what temperature did you wash these in? Hot I relied, she laughed, you idiot you should have used cold, as now you've 'set' the stain and ruined a pretty pair of panties. Oh well I guess we will have to go panty shopping tomorrow. Maybe Victoria's Secret? I understand Nancy, your friend Mike's wife just started working there (giggle), maybe she can let us use her discount? She then put her hand on my softening member and said, 'well give it some thought, panty boy, good night. WTF, now she is straight up trying to sexually blackmail me and expose me really? I got out of bed headed for the bathroom sobbing, how could my sweet wife be so cruel. Fifteen minutes or so she knocks on the door, " Jimmy are you ok"? No I'm, how could I be ok when you want to humiliate me and expose my fetish to my friends? Oh you admit it now that you are little perverted panty stealing panty boy? Her words cut me through me like a knife, but she was right. Stand Jim, look at yourself in the mirror wearing my soiled panties, tell me baby who and what did I fall in love with? Then she placed her had on my limp cock and said, I love you but tell me about all your fetishes now or we are done: confess! I'm not going to play a guessing game with you understand! Sobbing, I began to spill my guys about how was molested by an older boy at 11, my Aunt confessed to dressing me as a girl when I was very young,

dressing my mothers lingerie. Yes, I've have fantasies about being fucked my a man while being dressed as a woman. With years in my eyes I looked at my wife, what she was crying too? Why are you crying I asked? I'm so sorry that so many people have hurt you babe and that you are so fucked up now. Maybe we can both get into therapy, you know get some professional help? But for this moment, let's promise to be more open and honest with our sexual feelings and desires ok? Babe I'm sorry I got do angry with you but you did sneak my panties? I had no idea that my panties turned you on so much to the point that you would willing wear them? She started rubbing my pantied cock as she spoke, you know Jim, have a little fantasy of my own. What she whispered in my ear next blew me away. Jim, sometimes I think about being with a woman, coddling and fondling each others breasts? Jim, I, I think I might be Bi? I sorry I've never shared this with you but you understand right ? At that moment, my cock began to swell, she got her answer. Now pulling my panties down she began licking the very backside tip of my cock, you know Jim, maybe I will be willing to support you, like helping you dress like a lady, apply make up and maybe if you wish be with a man as a woman. With these words I erupted a stream of thick sperm all over her beautiful face. Wow, that was fast hon, you agree with my suggestions? Awesome, now for your first lesson Jamie, lick up all the cum you sprayed over my face. Yes, play the part bitch you need to learn to love the taste of your cum. Yes, your female name is Jamie now, do you like it? That's right clean me up, good gurl. Now it's my turn to be pleasured, now be a good lesbian bitch and eat my sweet pussy, XOXO.

Chapter 2 The List

The next morning Carol, my wife was up early and out of the house without waking me. No breakfast or coffee, man that woman be slipp'in, I thought. Well, what looks good in the frig? Oh man, lookie here, a heart shaped note from wifey. [Hi Jim I went shopping with Margie this morning, not sure when I'll be back but, please pickup the following items at the corner drug store:

tampons, pantyhose, nail polish (pink), eye shadow base & palate, concealer, face primer, eyeliner (water proof), mascara, blush, bronzer, highlighter, lip gloss, cosmetic brush set, foundation, setting spray and pamprin. Jim, if you need help just ask the salesgirl in

cosmetics, you know the one you always flirt with, you know Desiree, giggle. Oh and make sure you are wearing the pink lace panties that I let in your drawer. They are yours now, Jamie. Love Carol XOXO, P.S., I've invited some friends over for dinner so please be home by 4 pm.] Groan, I HATE shopping, especially for girl stuff! Ok, so off to drug store I went, stright to the cosmetics counter, list in hand. There she was, Desiree behind the counter, may I help you, she asked? Desiree was the gorgeous offspring of Spanish and Irish parents, about 5' 9" light green eyes and light brown to blonde hair. Her makeup was always impeccable, skirts and blouse always tight and ample cleavage on display. Carol was right that I did flirt with Desiree in the past, but Carol was always with me. It was different now, I was alone and what she possibly thinking? I mean, Carol had always shopped for her own cosmetics and fem items? Looking into her eyes my mind went blank, dry mouth, etc. I handed her the list and mumbled, my wife needs this stuff and I have no idea. Sure, no problem, I can get these for. Carol is your wife right? Yeah, she was in earlier, something about a need for a change and wanted you and I to help her with a make-over surprise. I can help you with every thing on the list except the tampons, their in aisle 12. Oh, and I'll need your help with selecting the foundation shade to ensure a good color match. Ok, what ever I said, I'll be back with the wifey's tampons in a couple minutes. As I walked away, Desiree's last words, "color matching" stuck in my head... Carol's skin tone was much lighter than mine? Mmm, aisle 12, ok here we go, no idea really what to buy my wife, so many confusing choices. I must have been searching for the correct tampons for at least 15 minutes when Desiree found me. Hi, need some help? Absolutely? I have no idea what she needs. Laughing at my ignorance of feminine hygiene products, explained that Carol would at minimum need pads and most likely will need a tampon for her 'heavy' period flows. My suggestion is get her both. Is so sweet and thoughtful of you to do pick these up for you wife, I'm sure she appreciates it. Now let's go go back to the cosmetic department and I ring up your items? Sounds like a plan, I said. Ok, let's try this new foundation shade shall we? Desiree reached for my hand, this was a new level: physical contact. I could feel my heart beating faster, well if well if you have to I said? Desiree, her hand still gently touchind my hand, looked me in the eyes and said, Jim, it is necessary to be sure we get an accurate match and you do want to please your Wife don't you? Yes, of course I want to make Carol happy. Well good, smiling as she applied the foundation to my hand Desiree said, you know Jim, it's not like anyone's going to make assumptions about your sexuality. I mean, why would a handsome stud like you want to wear make up? Ok, of course your are right, I told her. Oh, awesome Jim, this color is perfect. Carol will love it.

Great what is the final damage for all this, I asked? Sure, your total comes to $75.65. Ok, wow this stuff sure adds up fast! Ok here's $76, as Desiree handed back my change she dropped a dime. Oh, so sorry, no problem I said bending over to retrieve .10 cents and at that moment exposing my pink lace thong panties in full view of Desiree. So humiliating, I was speechless. Desiree with a big smile handed me my merchandise but me close and whispered, I love a man who likes to embrace his feminine side, Carol is so lucky.

Chapter 3 - No Refunds, No Returns

So I returned home with all the cosmetics Carol had on your list. She met me as I entered our apartment with big hug, then said that she had to leave again. No big deal, but asked me to read a letter she had written to me. Ok, problem, writing letters was something we did when we first started dating. Jim, l'll be back in about 2 hours, so please read my little ' love' note before I return. One more hug as she felt up my ass for the outline of the thong panties, still wearing them I see? Good, I so happy you did, it says you respect my wishes. I am going to make you so happy you did. Then she kissed me deeply and left without saying where she was going? Oh well, now where is this letter? I found Carol's letter on my pillow, she started, my Dearest husband, tonight I will make your fantasy of being a woman a reality. Don't deny it Jim. I found your hidden stash of female undergarments, shemale porn, etc. Really, why did you NOT trust me enough with your kinky desires? No matter, I know now and I still you move than you realize. Tonight I will give your fantasy, but know this our relationship will change. The changes will be (giggle) sort of a role reversal? To start: take a nice hot bubble bath, yes use mine girly stuff XOXO. Next, use my sugar rub all over your body to exfoliate your skin and then shave all your body hair, yes lov, your arms, legs, chest, balls and ass. Next raise in with cold water

and gently dry ourself. Next, hydrate your skin with some lotion be liberal with it. Now Jim, you don't have much time left so get started. Oh, once your done with this bathing routine, look in your drawer and closet. Yes I picked out some cute girly things for you to wear love XOXO. Make sure you are wearing each item when I return? If NOT, trust me You will sorely regret it!! But I know you will be a Good girl for your wife, your Mistress now won't you? And don't act like you don't know how to put on a bra, panty hose, corset, or breast forms. Please Sissy, remember I know what you've doing when your alone and I'm at work. You see I also found your pictures lol. Well, no more secrets BITCH! I demand you to be ready for me to apply your make up and wig when I return. No excuses! Yes dear, I will be fully shaved and dressed when return. Ok, good, I will be at 7 pm sharp! Out of fear and excitement I started drawing my bubble bath. While the tub was filling I looked into the closet and drawer to see what my wife had purchased. My sweet wife had filled my drawer will so many pretty panties and bras all different styles and colours. These were all mine, really? Wow, what was in my closet? Just a quick peek, so many cute skirts, dresses and tops, all mine? Ok, time was slipping away and the tub was nearly full now. As instructed, I soaked in the fraguent bubble bath for a half hour so relaxing then scrubbed every inch of my body possible with a sugar exfoliate scrub. I then covered my body with a girly shaved cream and shaved my legs, arms, chest, groin, balls and ass. I then showed in cold water to rinse off the remaining shave cream. As I dried my body off the scent purfume and softness of my now hairless body caused me to feel so girly/ feminine, excited and horny. I resisted my base urges to pleasure myself and pushed on to getting dressed as it was almost time for my wife to return. So many panties so many choices, will of I selected a cute pink lace thong panties with matching bra and garter belt. Slipping the panties on another temptation to pleasure myself. Not enough time, 6:30 pm, still had to put on the breast plate and corset. I secured the 38 D breasts to my chest using the medical grade adhesive. Looking the mirror was a bit of a let down, so much work and I still looked like a man, a man with big breasts and small waist. I was nearly in tears when I heard the front door open, Carol would be coming in bedroom any moment and I was pretty much half naked. I quickly grabbed a blouse, skirt and heels got them on and posing on the bed, just as door opened. Knock, knock... omg Jim, Carol told me to just let myself in, that my make over project would be sitting on the bed. It was Desire, Carol WTF!! I was humiliated once again, I began sobbing uncontrollably, why Carol, why? Desiree gave me several tissues to dry tears. I don't understand, why would do this? She came closer and hugged me. I never been this close to Desiree or so absolutely vulnerable before. She knew just like Carol that I was to be a sissy no denial. Jim, she said, Carol is giving you a gift, this is what you want really. Carol loves you didn't understand or how to help you experience being a girl. I can sweet heart. Yes, Carol may have, did violate your privacy by sharing your sissy feelings with me but I agreed to help you both. She then kissed me on the lips and said go wash away those trears hon and let's transform you into a beautiful woman. Before she applied my make up she asked me to remove my skirt and blouse, something about not getting any make on my clothes, ok made sence? Desiree was wonderful explaining the fairly complicated process of applying the various types make up, contouring, eye shadow, liner, etc. I almost forgot that I was half naked inches away from a gorgeous woman. The scent of her purfume and beautiful cleavage got the best of my unrestrained manhood. Desiree noticed my problem and said, I see you are getting turned on baby? You like it that I'm feminizing don't sweety? Oh of course you do

[333sth]

dove. (frankie morales)

chapter ii. previous. series masterlist.

pairing: frankie morales x ofc (’dove’) no use of y/n

warnings: ptsd/military service, violence, injury detail, language, angsty.

summary: santi’s hunch is no longer a hunch, but only will knows how close they are to finding frankie’s girl. 

rating: mature wc: 1.8k 

When a strong hand had clamped around her shoulder, Dove’s instinct was to break it. It wasn’t menacing; they were just waiting at the bar to be served.

A burly, middle-aged man was towering beside her, clutching a beer bottle that looked miniature in his thick grasp. His arms, still holding the shadow of what was once impressive muscle, were littered with military tattoos. Dove could spot a stick-and-poke from a mile off.

“I recognise that,” He gestures to her neck, where a small Delta Force tattoo was usually disguised by her long hair. “You ex-forces? Delta?” 

She wanted to kick herself. The sticky atmosphere had gotten the better of her and she’d thrown her hair into a ponytail without thinking.

“Yeah, but that isn’t exactly public knowledge ‘round here.” She murmurs. 

Across the room, Roni throws her head back in exaggerated laughter. A group of men, who looked barely out of their teen years, had come over to make some desperate attempts at getting laid. Dove had excused herself to buy the next round after one of them had cracked a mortifying joke about liking older women.

“That’s understandable.” The man held out his hand, which she took hesitantly. “My name’s Mark, I just retired out here. Served for twenty three years.” He chuckled gruffly, his voice thick from cigarettes. “I got jack shit to show for it, mind you.”

“Tell me about it.” She laughs, but she doesn’t offer her name. 

Mark notices as the conversation lulls. “I trained with a guy who made Delta. Santiago Garcia - we called him Pope, ‘cause he just had that way about him. You probably knew him.”

Dove swallows, chest lurching. “Sounds familiar… You know how it is though, the nicknames all blur into one eventually.”

That’s a lie, you never forget your teammates’ names. Mark knows it and so does Dove. Thankfully, he doesn’t push a conversation she clearly doesn’t want to have, and raises his bottle to her.

“Well, it was nice to meet you anyway. Enjoy yourself out here.”

“You too, Mark.” She tries to smile, but her lips press into a thin line that probably looks more like a grimace.

*

Mark had called Santiago the following day, the alcohol-blurred memory peaking his interest once he remembered his old friend’s plea a few months back. He’d asked around for any heads-up if any ex-Delta women around their age popped up. Mark had thought the man was delusional when he’d heard. If she was Delta Force, she wouldn’t be found unless she wanted to be. 

Apparently, he was wrong. Maybe even the best of the best got rusty after a while.

The town Dove had been spotted in was questionable to Santiago. It was too cosmopolitan for a woman who was starting over. However, after a onceover on a map of Mexico, Santi spotted its smaller neighbour. He’d never heard of it, which meant it must be the place. Small population, right on the coast, with enough amenities and business to get by without any trouble.

“And, man, she had a wicked scar on her throat. Sort of shit you’d only see on a Delta.” Mark had added, with a chuckle. “I can’t imagine that ain’t your girl.”

‘Dove isn’t my girl,’ Santi wanted to bite back instinctually. He bit his tongue, and instead offered, “It sounds like her. I can’t thank you enough, brother.”

*

Santiago only told Will what he knew about Dove. He had the mind to retain that information no matter what this trip threw at them. Plus, he trusted him with his life, plus a couple other lives that came to mind. Call it insurance, if things went south.

Plus, Will didn’t have Tom’s mouth, or twisted morality. Tom was more than willing to accept that Dove would miss out on their prospective fortune, that the ‘hunch’ would have to wait until Lorea was dealt with. Santiago knew his brothers well enough to know Benny would throw a hissy fit if they knew where Dove was and she wasn’t included. She’d spent enough time stitching up their war-torn skin and shoving them out of bullets to deserve a cut.

So, Pope told a little white lie. They had a stop in Mexico to meet with a contact. 

Frankie had murmured, “Better be worth it, stuck in this shitty car with you fuckers for ten hours.” 

Santiago resisted the urge to agree. God, he hoped it would be worth it too. He hoped he wasn’t driving them into a dead end, a bluff on Mark’s part. Or even worse, invading Dove’s beautiful new life without them. That would destroy everything; Dove, the boys, Frankie. What if she had settled down? What if he pulled into that idyllic beach bar she wanted and she’s there, a baby with the same brilliant eyes balanced on her hip? She was never sure about kids. A vivid mental picture of the wrong diamond, glistening on her ring finger in the afternoon sun, and the wrong man pecking her lips, made Santi physically wince. 

Fish would never forgive him. Will and Benny would never forgive him. He’d never forgive himself. 

It was a long, apprehensive drive. Santi’s eyes were drying, squinting against the headlights that occasionally glared past them. His jaw had been clenched for the last few hours as his anxiety grew, nothing but open road to stare at while he contemplated over and over as to whether it was the right decision. It didn’t help that Frankie never really slept like the others did on the move. While the other boys passed out, Frankie’s soft eyes continued scanning the scene flying past the window. It was like he stayed awake to watch Pope’s back, as if they were still in combat, or as an unspoken act of kindness to keep him company. 

Really, Frankie was a terrible sleeper. Santi remembered that from the early days, before he and Dove gave it up and became an item. He was the last to drift off and first to wake up, always restless. Once Dove started tip-toeing over to his cot in the night, he became the worst snorer in the division. Always splayed on his front, one arm tossed over Dove’s waist and the other under his pillow. She’d kick him in the night so he’d roll over and shut up, but it never lasted long. 

One night, Benny had enough, and groaned to Dove, “Put us out of our fuckin’ misery and smother him with your pillow, for the love of God.”

Dove had snapped back, “Fuck off, Benny, just ‘cause you aren’t getting any of the action doesn’t mean you have to get all bitter.”

“I’ve told you guys - I’m more than willing to join in-”

“Ben.” Frankie grumbled into her shoulder. It was gruff with sleep but still menacing enough to make the hairs on Dove’s arms stand on end.

Before a pillow smacked into his head, Benny guffawed, “Oh, so he is alive after all.”

*

Wringing a soft rag for polishing glasses between her fingertips, Dove descends the wooden steps at the entrance of the bar. The last huddle of regulars holler behind her, wrapping up their weekend drinks as the evening creeps closer to the early hours; Dove always notices the time when moths start colliding with the lanterns.

Roni rises from a crouch on the ground, dropping a paintbrush into a can with a clatter. “See, your own little touch!” 

The wooden panels that constructed the side of the bar, usually concealed by a stack of cardboard beer boxes, is decorated with little doves. Despite studying criminology, mainly for the satisfaction of her parents, Roni loved painting and insisted on brightening the exterior of their beach shack.

Dove cracks a half-smile. “It’s lovely, Ron. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” She beams, throwing the half-empty cans into the nearby bins. She pauses, glancing hesitantly at the older woman over her shoulder,  “Dove’s not your real name, right?”

“No, no. Nickname from when I was nursing overseas.” Dove chuckles, before adding, “Feels more like my real name than my Christian one nowadays.”

Roni passes Dove on the steps as she returns to the bar, “It suits you. You’re always graceful, but… you’re fucking fast.”

Dove laughs with her, ignoring the familiar clench in her chest. It’s exactly what Frankie used to say. The difference is Roni notices when she almost drops a glass, or her tray of drinks starts to wobble, and Dove is there to catch it with such fluidity Roni never saw her coming. Even the way Dove’s knife slices through fruit like each piece is a slab of melted butter. Frankie witnessed the extreme of that, the stealth and grace that usually ensured the enemy was dead before the others had even thought to raise their guns. Still, he admired her the same way Roni was right now. It was like awe.

It’s probably because he loved her effortlessly, every single aspect of her being without a glimmer of doubt or judgement. And now he wasn’t here.

The group of regulars stumbling down the steps break Dove from her thoughts, chortling and wishing her goodnight. One of the older men turns and jerks his thumb towards the road, “You might wanna tell them you’re closing, bonita.”

Before the road becomes the sand, there is a small, dusty wasteland that doubles as a makeshift car park. A vehicle is parked, glaring headlights facing towards the ocean and forming peculiar, alien-like beams in the dark. She’s definitely getting rusty; she’d barely registered the idling truck.

“I’ll sort ‘em out, Miguel, don’t you worry.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” He jokes, waving to her. “Buenos noches, Dove.”

Military habits are practically impossible to shake, and immediately, Dove’s mind launches into overdrive. She raises her hand above her eyes, squinting against the blinding white LEDs in an attempt to make out a registration plate or even a recognisable model. Her mind is fine-tuned to memorise; most of the locals’ cars are already catalogued in her memory, but this isn’t one of them.

Maybe they’re tourists, ready to push their luck with the opening times. That’s the reasonable side of Dove’s mind. The irrational, dark edges whisper, ‘What if someone found you?’ By someone, it means someone bad. Someone she wronged during her service, an enemy or straggler that got away. Even a civilian that might have been caught in the crossfire. She thought about those ghosts often. Hell, some of them she could still name. When she can’t sleep, sometimes she lists them, pictures their faces if she can recall them, just in case they ever came back.

She inhales a sharp gust of ocean air through her nostrils, welcoming the clarity that spreads through her mind. Parting her lips (the lips Frankie always teased were in a permanent pout), she released the breath slowly, trying to relax the stressed scrunch in her features.

“Your face is gonna get stuck like that someday.”

The voice is familiar. A deep, breathy chuckle, barrel-toned and gravelly. It sounds like home.

taglist: @mishasminion360

[practicalmagicintuitions]

Reading on HC

DISCLAIMER: If you will send me an Anon, I will answer in the same tone as your ask, opinion is written.

All information and statements made in this reading or any other post of mine are all alleged until proven to be fact and for entertainment purposes & usage only. All information stated is based on my intuition and my tarot cards. Opinion only. The readings have no intention to cause any harm to the individuals, people featured in it.

Disclaimer 2 : seems extra long reading to me, sorry for that. If there any typo sorry for that too, I wanted to post this today, so I typed like a mofo. 

Cards pulled on 15/07

What is happening now?

Devil rx Eight of Wands. 

On The Devil card, you can see the couple from the Lovers card chained together while The Devil is watching them. Those two cards are numerological counterparts ( The Lovers 6 The Devil is 15 = 1+5=6) so they have a connection but this is not limited to some romantic relationship. This card also deals with addiction, obsession, influences, control, illusion, materialism. And when the card is upright the pentagram is in the “wrong” position, it’s upside down. So when the card is reversed, the pentagram returns its correct position and becomes the protective symbol again. 

So The Devil rx means the chain falls off, it’s an opportunity to free yourself from those obsessive, addictive things which affect you. It's realising you have the power to change. But before you came to this realisation and urge to be free, you have to hit the rock bottom. I feel it’s important to say that in this question I haven’t asked about his romantic relationship, so it could mean changing a circle of friends or situations too. 

8 of wands is often called the cupid’s arrow or the falling in love card while it is more about infatuation and adrenalin rush. It’s also a fast-moving card. This card is also called the holiday love card.

So I see two possible options. One of them is he is ready to free himself from some bounding situation fast. And this freeing attempt makes him enthusiastic, cause some adrenalin rush and in this case, it means he is trying to free himself from infatuation. He wants rapid results.  The second option is that he is trying to free himself because there is another person, a third one if you like. 

HC+NV relationship now. 

Eight of Swords rx, Five of cups, The Sun rx. 

It’s very interesting to see those 3 cards together, I had to meditate on them a little bit longer.

With the 8ofSwrx I think he has a more realistic, clearer view on this relationship. I think this clarity cause great sadness and regret. (5ofC) Sun rx means the relationship is cooled down. 5ofC is a traditional bad relationship card. Not necessarily a breakup but definitely arguments and disharmony. Because this is about the relationship and because 8ofSWrx is about to break free, release, escape freedom (like the Devil rx) and the 5ofC has a breakup meaning, I think the relationship itself lost its warmth, burnt out. Maybe because the past events were too much or one of the parties is still crying over a “spilt milk” aka cannot let the past go, a past relationship perhaps. If this is about letting go of this current relationship with NV, it won’t be a lucky “escape”. It will bring sorrow, probably thinking about why this didn’t work? 

HC feelings, emotions

Judgement rx on top of it 7ofSwords

Judgment rx is about a difficult transition you are resisting or need time to adjust. It’s the refusal to hear the call. Delays, confusion, broken family units. etc. But because we have the 7ofSw on top of it ( and I mentioned before how I pay attention to the cards that fall on the others. This is only my method, maybe others don’t care but I do) I think he is seeking a way out about this situation he seemingly cannot let it go. But this card is an unsettling, shady, sneaky one. It brings dishonesty. Walking on eggshells, getting away with something, preparing for some action. Discomfort is the foundation of this card, it’s almost like you want to be truthful but cannot get what you want with honesty. This is the white lies, diplomatic approach to a situation. You know how he was compared to a politician, this is it basically. I feel this is the I cannot let go, but somehow I want to but my methods and ways won’t be honest and nice. For example when your partner is cheating you but too coward to admit it and accusing you of cheating. You fed up, break up with them, so they got what they want without being hones. That was just an example to describe the card, not the exact situation I saw here. 7ofSw is also means planning, mind games, tactics, being undercover etc. 

9ofWands, Page of Cups, Star rx, 2of Cups rx

He was defensive, he protected a young feeling which was a teen love type of emotion ( I remember I got this card ones how this relationship felt at the beginning and I think this was his card back then too) and probably this is why he feels he is stuck, he cannot let go because he was protective over this. And just left this doesn’t seem an option, not with a clear exit. (again, not whit honesty)

With the Judgment rx this again means, hard time to let it go. He feels he was committed to fight for and guard that young feeling (as we saw with his FO post ) but now he is hopeless (Star rx). He also feels he is constantly battling and this wears him out. Maybe that’s why a relationship seems to burn out. 

Pages are not just the youngest but they are the news bringers in tarot. This cup could mean gossip, being overly dramatic. To be honest I think this perfectly fits for his FO post and maybe he feels it was too much, too dramatic. On the card, the Page is offering his cups to someone and it could mean he feels he made those offers. He offered his emotions to her but the situation is hopeless. Or more likely it was a false hope. I said once in my previous reading that the most intense feeling I get from him for NV is this Page of cups, teenage love thing, which is more like the first few weeks, head over heels emotion, but this is without any real substance. 

There is no love here. 2 of cups if it’s upright is still not the love we saw on the Lovers card. It’s more like the early touchy-feely phase of a relationship which could grow to something more but it could die down too. Reversed 2ofC means trouble in a relationship even the end of it. Two people realise they are not meant to be together. 2ofC not only represents romantic relationships but friendships too. In that case, it could mean a fallout between friends. 

What I found interesting is that this could mean a codependent relationship between two people to the extent they cannot leave each other. This resonates with the Judgment rx. 2ofCrx can be a sign of a third person in the relationship or that one of the parties feels attraction outside of the relationship. 

His relationship with his family

Wheel of fortune, 2 of wands

Wheel of Fortune could be a fate, a karmic card. As I understand here that it means they as a family have a strong relationship even if the wheel is turning to negative. I don’t see this bond be destroyed by a woman (like MM did with Harry and the BRF). Rifts, arguments yes, but I don’t see this as a permanent situation. 

The 2ofW is often described as planning the future because the figure on the card is looking at a globe he is holding in his hands. Here I almost feel he is looking into the wheel. 

2 of W is decision making. Seems like a passive card without moving but you are thinking, making plans, so it’s not passive really. He knows the decision he makes will affect many. But as a relationship nor the Wheel neither the 2ofW are good cards. So I definitely sense some trouble now ( at that time of the reading) but he is in the position to change things. 

9 of Pentacles, Strength.

The imagery of those cards are very similar. Both have a very bright yellow background, on both, we have a female figure alone with an animal. 

9ofP could represent an older woman, but first I want to talk about the Strength card. This is about your inner strength, calm the beast inside you. It means your inner strength is put up on a test. 9ofP could mean that you are sacrificed many things for success. I think he temporarily sacrificed some part of his family and this is what put his strength to the test. This card also correlates with material wealth and success. I used the RSW deck for all of my HC readings but I cannot let go the feeling I have when I am using my own, personal deck which is the Druid Craft Tarot. On that card, the woman has everything financially, but still, there is boredom on her face. She is not happy, she is missing someone or something from her life. And I feel as an emotion this is very much present. He has a good status financially, seems everything is good, but still he is not happy. And this is something that could put his inner strength for a test. 

2 of pentacles rx

If this card is upright it means we are successfully juggling between 2 things. Because it’s a pentacle many times this is about 2 jobs, but as I said pentacles are about resources. 

If this card is rx it means you cannot do that anymore. You know that you have to choose between the two things. It could mean his family vs NV, or NV and another one, but could mean a poor financial decision for example with his FL house, maybe he overspent. (Tbh I think I mentioned this before somewhere that maybe he will have problems with his house)

This card also could mean a breakup. I don’t see this means a breakup from his family, I think their relationship is tested. Since this is a rx 2 it speaks about imbalance. 

This very much describes the whole reading. I felt imbalanced. I had a hard time reading certain combinations, first, this whole didn’t make sense. I am not sure how clear I was, this is definitely not my most polished reading. But then I thought I think I am picking up their imbalance. Because this whole has the “ I want to be free” feeling, but at the same time the “I cannot let it go” too. Like I want to go but there is an anchor which is holding me back. 

If we check the cards I get, we have 4 twos ( 2 of cups, wands, pentacles, Judgement), 3 of them is reversed. It means losing harmony, trying to do 2 things at the same time unsuccessfully. The illusion of companionship. You don’t have equilibrium. etc. It’s about decision making, serious ones. Two sides of a story. It also means because those are reversed that he is afraid of making a decision, he rather wants to other make those on his behalf. 

We also have 4 eights ( 8of wands, swords, The Star, The Strength). 2 of them upright, 2 of them reversed. Eight is strength. His inner strength is tested, his life gets busier. Reversed one means bondage, lack of courage.

If you want to imagine his situation, imagine a swing. Back and forth, up and down. He needs to make a decision to slow down or stop, or he will lose control and fall off. This is what he is now and this is what I picked up, while I had a hard time understanding the cards.

I hope you enjoyed it. :)

[stareyeddistinguishment]

Sam and Dean and Adam bonding on the last chapter, literally anything with them all together?

Trick or Treat! Thanks for the prompt! This one also clocked in as a one-shot. Hope you enjoy it!

This takes place post-Cage (post Atoning for Archangels). It's a bit of an AU off of season 15.

.

After everything that had happened between Adam and his half-brothers, after everything that had happened between Michael and Adam's half-brothers, Adam felt like maybe, just maybe, he should give the Winchesters a chance. Because maybe, they could be that one big (slightly dysfunctional — okay, severely dysfunctional) family they were each searching for.

And that's what had started these biweekly meetups — the want to connect. That want to erase bitter old memories and make something fresh of it. To make something better of it. Because, apparently, when kid-Adam used to be dreaming of all the fun-filled adventures he'd go on with his imaginary older brothers, kid-Dean and kid-Sam would have actually taken Adam up on those adventures. Kid-Dean was just as precocious and impetuous a child as kid-Adam. And kid-Sam was just as brainy and equally as nerdy as kid-Adam. (Although, Sam wasn't a big Star Wars fan. Not that Adam held it against Sam. Much).

But, anyway, that want to connect had somehow translated into a here-and-now actually happening connection. And that's why Adam currently found himself with Michael standing outside of Westmark Lanes Bowling Alley. Adam wasn't much of a bowler; it was Dean's turn to pick the meetup spot.

"Pray to me when you desire to leave," Michael was detailing, the angel's instructions thorough and meticulous. "After receiving your prayer, then I will return and fly us home."

Adam smiled at the apparition of his angel. Michael returned the gaze solemnly. Adam's angel always got a little cagey about leaving his vessel. It made Michael nervous whenever he left Adam alone. And with good reason. A shit ton of crap had happened in the years after escaping the Cage.

But that was all behind them now.

"Yeah, yeah. I know. I'll pray to you when I'm all ready to leave," Adam replied fondly. "Go enjoy your time with Gabriel. Between Sam and Dean acting as my bodyguards and all that warding you inked across my body, I think I'll be pretty safe," Adam assured his angel.

Michael shifted consideringly.

"Go," Adam urged, laughing as he waved his hands in a shooing motion. "Go, or I'll call Gabriel down here to escort you."

Calling Gabriel was no idle threat. Adam had done it before.

"Very well," Michael finally relented.

After sparing a moment for a quick kiss, Michael's grace departed Adam's body for Heaven.

And then it was just Adam standing on the concrete slab outside the bowling alley. For all Adam's bravado, it was always jarring in the moments after Michael vacated his vessel. A sudden feeling of alone resounded within Adam's head. But then, that passed. He could still feel his angel, after all. He always would.

Squaring his shoulders, Adam straightened. Then he pushed forward and headed into the bowling alley.

It was noisy inside the building. The sounds of balls crashing into pins and pins clattering against the lanes, the whooshing of mechanical lane sweepers, and the whirling of ball-return machines crowded the single, overlarge room. Beneath those noises were the sounds of people milling about on a lazy Saturday afternoon: adults joking with each other and teenagers enjoying games with friends. There was a child's birthday party in lane 8. The kid was turning eight, which Adam inferred from the pink "Happy 8th Birthday!" mylar balloon floating above the lane. Lane 8, like the other 14 in the bowling alley, was brightly lit, squeaky clean, and freshly polished. The lane's light-colored oaken flooring then made way for a seating area. Each lane had its own small seating area: just a couple of red plastic chairs surrounding a computer console and an overhead monitor displaying the game's score. This was one of those places where the overhead monitor played those cheesy animations like "It's the Great Bowldini!" or "Spare me!" based on how many pins a person knocked down each frame. The whole bowling alley smelled like floor wax and beer and pepperoni pizza.

After grabbing a pair of red and blue bowling shoes from the front desk, Adam headed back towards the lanes.

"Adam! Yo, over here, bro!" Dean's gruff voice was deep enough that it carried over the din.

Adam waved to show his acknowledgment. Then grabbing a 12 lb. bowling ball from one of the nearby ball racks, Adam met Dean in lane 13.

"Hey man, glad to see you," Dean's smile was genuine.

"Yeah, you too," Adam returned warmly. (And it was always a surprise to realize the truth in Adam's words. Never, at any time during the 1231 years that Adam spent imprisoned within Hell, had Adam ever thought he'd get on so well with Dean Winchester. Although, it had really helped when Dean stopped referring to Adam as his "younger brother." That was after Michael had so indelicately informed Dean that Adam was more than 30 times Dean's senior).

After depositing his green bowling ball into the lane 13 ball corral, Adam sat down on one of the red plastic chairs. He toed off his tennis shoes and then bent over to pull on the pair of red and blue bowling shoes. After tying the shoelaces, he straightened to face Dean.

"So, how you been, man?" Dean asked conversationally. Adam's half-brother flashed Adam a lazy grin.

Dean was happy now, and it showed. It was visible there, in the loose, relaxed lines of his posture, and there, in the ease and sincerity of his smile. Between Cas, Jack, and the bit where everything on Earth was so well ordered, Dean was finally happy. He was retired from hunting and was now living his "apple pie life." He was loving every goddamned, well-earned minute of it.

"I'm doing good," Adam replied. "Michael just finished seeding the vegetable garden," he offered his latest news.

"Oh yeah, I remember you mentioning he was wanting to get into vegetables."

"Wanting is an understatement," Adam corrected. "Cucumbers, tomatoes, onions, squash, peppers, collard greens, kale, swiss chard..." Adam trailed off before shaking his head. "I think he planted way too much, but he was so damned stubborn about it. So I'm asking you in advance: Cas likes veggies, right? And Jack, he's a growing boy. You guys fancy supporting your brother's soon-to-be ASA?"

"ASA?"

"Like a CSA. You know, Community Supported Agriculture?"

Dean nodded. "So ASA? Angel Supported Agriculture?" he hazarded.

"Unfortunately," Adam confirmed with a self-suffering sigh. "So, you want some produce in the very near future?"

Dean smirked. "Yeah, Cas would probably dig some tomatoes. And Jack will eat anything I cook for him, so I'll also take some onions, squash, and peppers. But none of the green stuff. You can save that for Sam."

"Save what for me now?"

And it was funny that a guy as lumbering and large as Sam could sneak up on someone, but Adam assumed it was an after-effect of Sam's years of hunting.

"Hey, Sam," Adam rose to stand. He attempted an awkward one-armed hug of Sam's body — awkward due to the height differential, not due to Sam. Almost automatically, Sam stooped to better accommodate Adam's shorter stature. Obviously, Sam was used to being the tallest in the room. (Which was ironic because Adam was also used to always being the tallest in the room — just never when Sam was also in that same room).

"And we're talking about Michael's vegetable garden and my soon-to-be status as your personal organic farmer," Adam explained snidely. "And also, that I've put you down for a free twice-monthly box of all the greens you can eat."

Michael loved his plants, and his plants loved him back. (Probably on account of all the trace amounts of archangelic grace he inadvertently imbued into the soil. But also on account of just how much he babied those damn things. Seriously, Michael was even worse than Grandpa Milligan with his beloved Margo Koster rose bushes). Adam and Michael's home was already a veritable wonderland of green growing things. It was ridiculous. And Michael's new vegetable garden was going to be a nightmare.

Michael was going to love it. Adam was really excited and happy for his angel.

"Thanks, that sounds great!" Sam agreed. "You can pass me all the green stuff you want. Eileen and I'll eat it."

"See, told you," Dean sneered. He shook his head in mock disgust.

If Dean epitomized the "apple pie life," Sam was a poster-child for "living the dream." It was never too late to go back to school, and Sam had finally earned that law degree he'd always longed for. There was always a need for one more good lawyer, especially one more good lawyer with an extensive understanding of monsters.

"So, I've got a round of drinks on the way and a couple orders of cheese fries," Dean announced. "And for both you health freaks, that fried cauliflower thing."

"Oh, that reminds me, Michael's also growing cauliflower," Adam tossed out offhandedly. "Any takers?"

"Yeah, add that to mine." Sam nodded.

"Noooope."

"Okay, cauliflower for Sam. None for Dean. Will do," Adam summarized. Then, Adam clapped his hands, decisively. "So, enough talking about vegetables, who's up to bowl first?"

"Uh, that would be you, Assdam," Sam intoned dryly. He nodded towards the overhead monitor and the displayed read-out. A smirk tugged at the corners of his lips.

Because Dean, in his unending generosity, had already entered their names into the computer. Dean, Samantha, and Assdam.

"Gee, thanks, Dean."

"No problem, bro."

And really, why did kid-Adam want siblings again?

---

Later that evening, Adam lay within the stillness of Michael's arms. Michael didn't need to sleep, but Adam's angel really enjoyed physical forms of affection. It was endearing, and Adam always tried to go to bed at least an hour early, just to give Michael some quality cuddle time.

"So, it sounds like you and Gabriel had fun," Adam surmised. Michael had just spent the last 30 minutes summarizing Gabriel's latest shenangigans. Although Michael sometimes griped, Adam knew how much it meant to his angel to have Gabriel back.

"Yes, we did," Michael agreed. He shifted beneath the covers, tightening his hold across Adam's back. "How are your half-brothers doing?"

"Oh, they're good," Adam replied. He paused before adding, "I told them about your vegetable garden. They both mentioned an interest in regularly sampling some of the ... erm, fruits of your labor."

"They want to eat my vegetables?" Michael confirmed, sounding pleased.

"Yeah. I told them we'd send them each biweekly boxes once everything gets growing," Adam detailed. "I hope that's okay?"

"Of course, Adam." Michael agreed.

"Good." Adam yawned. He was getting drowsy. It was probably time for sleep. "You mind turning off the lights?"

The overhead ceiling light immediately flickered off.

"Thanks," Adam murmured sleepily. He extracted himself from Michael's hold to settle onto his back. As expected, the angel immediately curled up into Adam's side. "Night, Michael."

"Sleep well."

"Love you," Adam sighed.

"Love you, too."

And it was right as Adam had drifted off to sleep that Michael suddenly bolted upright in bed and startled Adam awake.

"Adam," Michael hissed.

Adam's eyes wrenched open at the urgency in his angel's tone. "What's wrong, Michael?"

The eyes of Michael's apparition were glowing a celestial blue, indicative of his sudden worry.

"If your brothers will be receiving regular produce from my garden, I will need to plant additional vegetables," the angel fretted. Then, he paused before stating decisively, "I will expand the vegetable garden tomorrow."

Adam stifled a groan. He really was going to be starting that ASA.

Maybe A stood for Assdam.

[whimsicallyreading]

Dark Roast, No Sugar

Part Two

Aelin leaned her head against a solid chest and counted the beats. These stolen moments were what she and Sam lived for. His breaths were even, and the gentle rumble of thunder outside assured their temporary safety.

 Arobynn's plain was delayed due to the torrential downpour flooding Rifthold. They'd received the text at the same time, and Sam immediately came to find her. Sneaking into the manor was risky, but Tern, Harding, and Mulligan were all occupied, and no one would dare enter Arobynn's office while he was away.

Well, everyone besides them. The danger was definitely worth it, Aelin mused as she stretched like a cat and sprawled into a more comfortable position over the muscled torso. A hand reached up and dragged calloused fingers through her hair, making her preen with satisfaction.

 Sam chuckled from below her, spread out like a starfish on Arobynn's poached polar bear rug. She felt sad for the untimely death of the creature, but she couldn't deny it made the perfect spot for their rendezvous.

 "We can't stay like this forever," Sam reminds her gently. He works his fingers down her long blond hair to the nape of her neck, where he works at the knotted muscles.

 "Not now, but soon," she reminds him as if he wasn't the one to concoct their crazy escape plan.

 A kiss pressed against her forehead marks the seal of his promise. "Soon," he agrees. "This hell will be over for you and me." The conviction of his voice lets that little tealight of hope in her chest flicker dangerously.

 "We will be free. The only dreams we will be having is what our home together will look like," she nuzzles into his chest and urges him to keep going. He knows she likes it when he talks long term to her.

"In the mornings, I will wake up to you in my bed. Your hair all over the place, and your arms constricting me like a hungry python."

 She cracks her eyes open at that and gives him a sleepy glare.

 "I wouldn't change a single thing about it," he continues. "Knowing you are safe with me is all I will ever need to be happy. Waking up to you in my arms is enough beauty to sate me wherever we end up. I'll be the happiest man alive."

 Tears burned the corners of her eyes, and a lump ached in her throat. For so long, she'd been deprived of affection and relationships of any kind. Aelin couldn't help the feeling of free-falling every time Sam declared his love. It was a treasure she thought she'd never had again. "I love you, Sam," Aelin whispers against his chest and presses a messy kiss to the muscle there.

 "Then why didn't you look for me?" His voice cracks in pain.

 Startled, Aelin's head shoots up. Ice chills her blood, and the screams that pour from Aelin's mouth are unearthly when she's faced with the gaping holes where his eyes should be.

 His eyes. She feels that familiar pain beneath her ribs. Those eyes that had been so kind. Made her feel so safe and radiated warmth. Aelin mourned their loss. Mourned him.

 "You didn't look for me," those damning words left his lips again.

 Aelin wakes up with a sob. "I'm sorry," she yells to the empty room.

 "I'm sorry," she keens. There are no hands in her hair. No beating heart beneath her cheek. She curls into a ball and grabs locks of her hair, pulling at them until strands fall loosely into her hand. The agony builds until it pinches her gut so hard and wrenches her heart so profoundly that she barely makes it to the toilet before hot, acidic bile burns a path up her throat.

 It burns through her over and over until she's leaned against the toilet seat sobbing. Her arms wrapped around her midsection protectively.    

 Morning sickness should have passed by now, but she still spent a great deal of time in this position. It never got less painful, and Aelin's seemed more aggressive than what other mothers recounted experiencing online. Her constant sickness and nightmares were leaving her feeling weak.

 Maybe it was a punishment for bringing a little life into a world that had savaged its father? That thought crossed Aelin's mind often. Perhaps it was penance for her selfishness. Her wanting to keep this small piece of Sam despite knowing the kind of life it would be subjected to endure.

 There was no forgiveness for the things she's done. Why would the universe let her have this? She should just be grateful it hadn't been taken from her entirely.

 Spineless, coward.

 Aelin laid curled up on the bathroom floor for hours. Existing in a constant cycle of sickness followed by mental torment. Chills wracked her frame, and she trembled on the cold tile. She barely had the energy to lift herself up when the urge to vomit struck her. Words floated in her head, furthering her misery.

 Coward. Liar. Oathbreaker. Life taker.

 That's where Lysandra found her, at a much more reasonable hour of the morning. Aelin was so tired she could only sob when the door cracked open. Her head fell forward and rested against the porcelain seat, too weak to hold it up any longer.

 Lysandra had cringed and very gently guided her head from the toilet rim to her shoulder, nestling Aelin's forehead into the crook of her neck despite the cold-sweat there.

 She crooned sweet nothings and soothed Aelin until she had the strength to stand up and collect herself. Lysandra helped her dress and brush her teeth. She left Aelin to sit on the couch and came back with lightly buttered toast, a glass of water, and a cup of ginger tea.

 Her attempt to decline it was futile. Lysandra left no room for argument. Slowly, Aelin bit the toast and sipped the tea. Bite by bite and drink by drink, she finished the breakfast.

 Lysandra didn't relent her hovering for the rest of the morning. As she was forced through her morning routine under her friend's watchful eye, she began to feel more human, and that awful pain slowly faded to the background of her mind. Nausea still rolled in her belly, but the food and drink helped settle it enough for her to function.

 Now here Aelin was, only a couple of hours later, filling muffin cups to have ready for the early morning regulars.

Her attitude was dismal.

 She felt sick. Her body ached from hours of lying on the cold tile. Sweat soaked her clothes and chilled her forehead. Just looking at her cup of tea made her angry that it wasn't coffee, but her stomach burned so furiously that not even coffee sounded good. It was a horrible paradox and was only just that much more upsetting.

 Aelin felt her eyes begin to burn with tears, and she slammed the bowl of batter down so hard that it splattered up her apron. She pressed the palms of her hands against her eyes and tried to will the tears back down.

 Maybe she would cave to Lysandra's demands that she go upstairs and rest. It went grated against her desire to be self-sufficient and independent, but taking a hot bath and curling up in her bed sounded like pure bliss. The baby would likely benefit from her decompressing, too. That thought sold her on the idea.

 The bell at the counter rang.

 Aelin took a deep breath and washed her hands quickly. She would take this customer and then let Lysandra know she was taking the day off.

 Thinking of the jasmine soap and the warm blanket waiting for her upstairs was just enough for her to plaster on a smile.

 "Goodmorning, how can I- you," The last word came out in a hiss. Aelin's smile melted as quickly as it came.

 The asshole was back, and he brought a friend.

 Whoop-dee-freaking-doo.

 To his credit, the friend was equally as beautiful as the Asshole himself. He had dark skin, the color of polished pennies, and long blonde hair that coiled just above the arches of his cheekbones. If his choice of companionship didn't perturb Aelin so much, she might've found him attractive.

 Hell, she found him attractive anyway.

 "Is that how you greet all your customers, sweetheart?" The friend smiled at her, and his perfect teeth were bright enough to signal plains.

 "Do you call every girl sweetheart or only the ones you want to spit in your coffee?" Her tone is sharp enough to cut glass, and the man's eyes widen at the challenge.

 "I don't drink coffee, but I supposed the hot chocolate I was going to order is just as easy to violate," he laughs warmly, and her eyes follow the motion of his adam's apple. "How about I lay off the pet names in exchange for a warm cup of sugar without saliva?" His face was sincere enough that she felt less inclined to spite him for his choice of friends.

 "Your name?" she asks.

 "Fenrys," he offers without a joke, and Aelin writes it on a cup.

"I want a dark roast, black." The asshole reiterated his order from the day before. He had his arms crossed, and his face was set in a grimace. His comment the other day still rang in her ears, and she was certainly not feeling generous. Aelin scowled at him and left them both at the counter without a word.

 It only took a few minutes to make the cocoa. She made every cup from scratch with a recipe she'd been perfecting since childhood. As she prepped the drink, the store bells rang again.

 Turning around with the drink, she spotted her cousin Aedion at the door and smiled.

 She and Aedion had been separated by the system shortly after her parent's death. He was five years older, and their caseworker though Aelin stood a better chance of being adopted by herself. It was a traumatic memory for both of them. They'd found each other about a year ago, and it took little time for them to rekindle their relationship.

 She set the cup on the counter in front of them. "That will be three-fifty." The Asshole raised a pale eyebrow. "My coffee?"

"I have the right to refuse services to anyone I wish. That will be three-fifty." Aelin felt great satisfaction as The Asshole's lips pinched together and his scowl deepened.

 Aedion raised his eyebrow from across the room.

Lysandra chose that moment to walk back in, and when she caught sight of Aelin's expression and saw the seething man in front of her, she hastily made her way over.

"Can I help you?" She asks, looking towards the men. Aelin knew the question was directed at her, though.

 There were a lot of eyes on her. Aedion. Asshole. Handsome Fenrys. Lysandra. Aelin thrived on attention, but there was a difference between attention and being a spectacle. The room suddenly felt a lot smaller and crowded.

 Fenrys placed a hand on the Asshole's shoulder, concerned. "Hey. It's fine. We can get your cup of dirt water somewhere else. It's not a big deal, Rowan."

 Rowan.

 "I am a paying customer," the man, Rowan, gritted through his teeth.

 "You are paying for my coffee and pastries," Aelin snarled. "Your money does not purchase you the right to verbally abuse me.

 Aedion was over in an instant, chest puffed and oozing with male bravado. "Well met, gentleman. I believe my cousin said three-fifty." He edged close enough to bother their personal space. "If it's too difficult for you to figure out, I can help you count your coins and show you the door?"

 At six-two, Aedion was an intimidating figure. He was physically massive—layers of dense muscle from underground fighting and patrolling the streets with his gang, The Bane. An impressive tapestry of ink sprawled across his chest, curling out of his sleeves and collar just enough to let others know it's there. Most people would see him and think twice about approaching him.

 Rowan was taller than Aedion even, and perhaps more muscular as well. They squared up, neither breaking eye contact.

 Fenrys seemed displeased with the turn of events, but when Aedion turned to glare at him, there was a flash of recognition in his eyes. He was next to Rowan in an instant, pushing on his chest. "That's enough of your shit. I'll pay, and we are leaving."

 He fished out five dollars from the pocket of his trousers and tossed it on the counter. "Keep the change. Sorry for disturbing your day, ladies."

 When the shop bells jingled, and the door slammed shut behind them, Aelin sighed and felt herself wilt against the counter. Her breathing was labored, and her heart still thrummed with the excess of adrenalin. She was prepared for a fight. Muscle memory had her tense and ready for the situation to escalate, which of course, it didn't. Old habits died hard, though.

 A steadying hand was gripping her elbow and helping her lean into a solid body. "Hey, Ace. Relax, it's fine."

 Lysandra shook her head, "That was the bastard from yesterday, I am guessing? You should have let me take care of that." She points up the stairs. "Go. You need to take a day off. Upstairs. Make sure she sits down, Aedion."

 "I had it handled," Aelin grumbled, allowing Aedion to tug her towards the stairs in the back of the little kitchen.

 Her cousin snorted, "Oh, I know you can handle yourself. The stress isn't good for Little A, though."

 "You just want to throw your street cred around."

 Aedion laughed, "That too."

 Aelin slumped onto the thread worn couch and tugged at her tennis shoes. She sighed when they finally slipped off, and she could rest her swollen feet on the old coffee table. Their apartment wasn't the luxury she and Lysandra were accustomed to, but it was more of a home than the Mannor had been.

 "You look exhausted," Aedion stated bluntly.

 Aelin closed her eyes and hummed. "Is that the language you use when you talk people into your bed?"

 "Not a lot of talking is required for that," Aedion says with a straight face. "Even if it was, I would be practicing on Lysandra, not you."

 Few words passed between them after that. They weren't necessary. Aelin and Aedion talked and texted all the time, but there were times when they just needed to soak in each other's presence. Years apart starved them of that unspoken bond they'd had as children.

 Being close to Aedion was one of the few things that staved the fear and allowed her to relax. He was like the familiar taste of hot tea and the warmth of a childhood blanket wrapped into one. She had no doubt that Lysandra had called and ordered him to come to see her at some point this morning.

 The Bane typically showed up on Friday nights to play poker at her tables and hang out. Aedion would stay through the weekend, and they would catch up then. An early morning visit on a weekday was out of the ordinary. Occasionally Kyllian or Jerome would pop by and make sure nothing was amiss.

 When Aelin and Lysandra liberated themselves and opened the shop, Aedion had insisted they find a location in The Bane's stomping ground. Arobynn was less likely to stumble across them outside of his territory. She'd seen Tern and Mulligan prowling the streets.

 Arobynn wouldn't let them go so quickly.

 Aelin hadn't wanted Aedion to get involved, but there was no way he would leave them defenseless.

 They compromised.

 Once a month Aelin would donate a small share of The Stag's tips for their protection. It was a pitiful amount. So she also offered her spare bedroom as a hideaway for Aedion's friends who needed a place to lay low. So far, only Ren had utilized it, but it was always ready to go.

 Aelin was by no means someone to screw with. Her other name was just as well known on the streets as The Bane were. It was a good arrangement.

 It's why Rowan had gotten under her skin so badly. She needed those tips to keep The Bane well equipped and for other resources to keep Arobynn out of her hair.

 He didn't know about the baby. Didn't realize the depth of how much Aelin had actually betrayed him. There would be hell to pay if he ever found out.

 Plus, baby shit was expensive.

 "So," Aedion finally broke the silence. "How did you piss off the cops?"

 Wait. "What?" Aelin sat up and leaned forward. "What do you mean?"

 "That was Detective Fenrys. He booked me the last time one of our fights got broken up. Nice guy. Let me out on a technicality." Aedion smiled. "Maybe he just thought I was good looking. He's not wrong. I am assuming the other guy is his partner."

 "They are detectives?" Aelin spat.

 "The best and brightest Orynth has to offer," Aedion ruffled her hair as he stood. "You sure know how to pick your fights, cousin."

 Well shit.

[thebadboyfanclub]

We’ll Get Caught (Draco x Reader)

Requested by anon. This is the first smut in years and it’s not that descriptive but y’all eating today. Enjoy!

(Y/n)’s name was one of the most well known ones in Hogwarts for all kinds of reasons, as she started to get older her body started to change which means boys wanted just a little taste of her sweet nectar, the girls wanted to know the secret to get those curves and the younger students knew her as Professor Snape prodigy, she fell in love with potions and the defense of dark arts, so since the first year she started following him around asking to give her tasks or things she could do for him. At first Severus found her extremely annoying, but she slowly grew on him and now she was his most trusted assistant.

However, she always found time to have a little “fun”, she was very flirty and confident in herself, her father and mother made sure to imbed that in her from a very young age so nobody could harm their little girls feelings, she was the queen of her own castle and she danced at the beat of her own drum.

She was aware of the little glances Draco was giving her, how he tried to show off when she was around, how he would be extra sarcastic to potter when (y/n) was close enough to listen. She thought it was funny how confident he acted yet he never really talked to her directly and when he did he made sure it wasn’t for long.

“Malfoy, what do I owe the pleasure”

“I’m sorry professor, I was wondering if I could talk to (y/n) for a second?”

Severus raised his eyebrow at the young boy, he was used to it by now since a lot of students came to “talk” to his assistant, he almost found it amusing how she would turn down the majority of them and how embarrassed they were afterwards.

“Miss (y/l/n), Mister Malfoy would like a word”

Malfoy? As in Draco Malfoy? That was unexpected to say the least. She put the potion she was polishing back in the now clean shelf and got down to see him. her white button up shirt was kind of sticking to her stomach from the sweat, the constant boiling cauldrons did not really help with cooling down the place whatsoever .

“Is there something wrong Draco?”

“No,no I was just.... would you like to go out with me?”

If she didn’t know any better she would have thought he just said a tongue twister by how fast he spat it out. (Y/n) smiled at the offer and took one step closer towards him.

“He usually let’s me go after 8″

She whispered and then walked away to finish her chores with a faster pace now since she had something to look forward to.

-

Draco was right on time, he decided to have a little sneaky date at the library, he had even brought a few candles to set the mood and sneakily stole some beverages to drink while having a chat.

Oh how divine she looked in that green skirt, the buttons of her shirt teasing him and making him that one wrong move and her breasts would be exposed, she was such a force to be reckoned with at everything she did.

As the time passed by and they slowly ran out of things to talk about (y/n) felt more attracted to Draco than ever, the way he talked to her, those sneaky little comments about how beautiful she is, how his hand slowly went from just touching her hand to resting on her thigh. She felt like electricity ran through her when he started drawing circles with his hand on her thigh.

“It’s getting late, Mr Flich will start making rounds”

Draco said, although a devilish smiled played on his face. He felt his throat get dry and he had to swallow back the urge to attack her when she let her tongue go over her upper lip so slowly it felt like a torture.

“We should get going then”

“Yeah, we should”

None of them moved, they just stayed looking at each other. (Y/n) smiled and got up from her chair, making the first move towards the exit, what Draco didn’t know was that in her mind they were not leaving just yet.

As they walked (Y/n) stopped and turned towards him, he didn’t have time to process what was happening when he felt her soft full lips on his. Her strawberry Chapstick was almost like heroine to him. 

“We’ll get caught”

She whispered. She didn’t care about getting caught, it made her even more excited as her adrenaline went to the roof

“Then let’s make it worth it”

That’s when he took the upper hand and grabbed her thick thighs wrapping them around his waist and guided them between bookshelf aisles pushing her back against them. His hands found their way into her buttons and revealed her chest he was thirsting over, she was almost like a succubus demanding attention. 

“You are gorgeous”

He breathed out, almost in shock about how perfect she was. His lips went to her neck, biting, kissing and nibbling at her while his hand gripped a good portions of her luscious hair, pulling her head back. 

Her moans were leaving her mouth without even realizing it, she was deep in the moment she forgot where she was and how quiet she should be. Her legs wrapped around him and pulling him as close to her as it could be physically possible, she was not as cautious with the buttons on his shirt so she just pulled it apart not caring about some of them leaving the fabric she just wanted to feel his hot flesh against hers.

“I need you”

“Show me how much you need me”

She teased. Soon enough her bra was off and his pants were on his knees, pulling her panties to the side so he can feel her wet nature he so craved of and she tasted as good as she looked. Immediately they were both off to a world full of pleasure, as she gripped him and left marks on his back and he was holding her so tight that she felt her flesh ripping a bit on her waist. Their moans mixed together sounded like animals, they were animals since their brains only felt the instict of pleasure taking over there was nothing else.

“Turn around for me”

She let her feet touch the ground and placed her hands on the shelfs that were quickly taken away from there, Draco let them rest in the middle of the back, holding her head making her cheek touch the shelves and parting her legs. She arched her back as she felt her a few drips of hers run down her thigh.

“Malfoy, please”

She begged. Draco didn’t need to hear anything else, he filled her up once again and drove her insane, as much as she drove him as well. He had never felt this way with a woman, he never wanted it to end he was hooked on the feeling and her naked body was one of the best sights his eyes had ever seen.

She was helpless against him and she loved it, the feeling of not being able to get away aroused her even more, she was under his will and intentions and from what it seemed like they had the same things in mind. The chemistry they had was like two volcanos erupting, they were so into it they didn’t even hear Mrs Norris meowing, nor Mr Filch going to professor Mcgonagall who was on hall duty that night. 

(Y/n) felt her body was on fire, Draco was not giving her any mercy, she felt him pound and give her body pleasure and pain in one, he was aggressive yet she felt nothing but raw pleasure. Her bottom lip was bleeding after one good bite of his and his back looked like he had fought with lions. She felt the amazing sense of getting closer and closer to the glorious orgasm.

“Don’t stop, Don’t you dare stop”

“Come on love, let it go”

He once again pulled her head back so she can come closer to him,licking her neck from the bottom all the way to her ear, his breath tickling her ear as she felt the euphoric feeling taking over her body slowly, sending her mind over the edge and her legs shake from the pleasure. He could have finished ages ago but he wanted to see her cum first, he wanted to see her loose control over the rapture he was providing her as her body, mind and soul became his. The moans got louder and louder until she was out of breath and just couldn’t force out any sound, the fierce passionate feeling was so enormous she couldn’t make a sound then she just felt her body give in and if it wasn’t for Draco holding her she would have fell to the ground.

“My sweet little (y/n)” 

He said before kissing her neck letting himself cum now, the orgasm was more intense than ever, every muscle in his body became tense and his mind almost exploded by how pleasurable this was.

“You.... are... amazing”

“Malfoy I never thought you had it in you”

She joked, his breath was heavy and so was hers. She could only give him a lazy smile as she wiped her sweat of her face and pulling back the locks that had stuck in her face. He flipped her body facing his and kissed her passionately once again, he could never leave her now, who could give him the feeling she just did, she was a goddess of passion in his eyes now, her sensuality was oozing out of her.

“We really need to head back”

(Y/n) put her clothes back on and Draco buttoned his shirt as much as he could, since a few buttons had gone missing. What they did not know was Professor Mcgonagall was standing right outside, she didn’t want to go in that room since it would be embarrassing for everyone.

“Good evening”

She said as the door opened. (Y/n) shrieked as she jumped up, getting caught by surprise, Draco’s eyes went wide after he realized what is going on. 

“P-Professor”

“Miss (y/l/n) you should know the students need to be in their dorms by this hour”

“I-I’m so s-sorry”

“20 points from Slytherin”

Draco didn’t know what to say, he just stood there dumbfounded hoping nothing worse would happen. However, he didn’t really care nothing could ruin what he had just experienced.

As Professor Mcgonagall turned to leave she stopped and turned to look at the scared couple.

“Next time keep it down miss (y/l/n) and mister Malfoy i’m sure you know that the lady needs to be taken care and pampered after such intense exercise”

[blxxdyvalentine19xx]

What happens in vegas stays in vegas 🎲

lil huddy x MGK x Mod Sun

Warnings:

Song: Free Love - Mod Sun

Colson's mouth dropped; he shot up into a sitting position when the words left Chase's mouth. "Did you just suggest a threesome with one of my best friends?" He wasn't sure he heard  Chase right and he was shocked by what he thought he heard.

"Maybe..." Chase startled when Colson sat up quickly. "...yes" he picked at the sorry state of the chipped polish on his nails. "You don't have t-" Chase was cut off by Colson kissing him softly and looking at him with a curious expression.

Hearing the 'yes' Colson cracked a smile and took Chase's hands in his. "I'll have to catch him in the right mood" He said as he outstretched one of his legs. "So don't bank on it or anything." Colson admitted that Mod was good looking.

Looking away; Chaae covered his eyes; he was sure his face was red and he attempted to hide it in his hoodie when he was pulled into a cuddle..

♡ ♡ ♡

Chase had just walked into the living room when he heard Mod make a dig at Colson about the age difference between Kells and Chase. "Oh hell no" he mumbled under his breath and was about to walk back out when Colson answered.

"It ain't me we gotta worry about here" Colson looked up from the blunt he was rolling and grinned at Mod. “he’s the one with a thing for older men" He waved his hand in Chase's direction and winked at the boy.  "You wouldn’t belive what he suggested in bed the other day”

"I find it hard to believe you aren't the one to worry about" Mod shrugged, wide eyed when Colson said it was Chase who was into older men. "Jesus...always the pretty ones" his eyes drew up to Chase who looked like a deer in the headlights.

Sealing the blunt; he looked at his friend and shook his head. "He casually  dropped the words 'threesome and 'Mod Sun' in the same confession" 

"Yo-" Chase froze on the spot when Mod's attention snapped back to him. "Uhmm..." he hadn't intended to be around when Colson mentioned it so he lacked a decent explanation.

Wondering why Colson brought it up; Mod looked from Chase back to Colson and caught the look Colson usually had when he was about to suggest something insane. "Oh n- Kells, you don't..." he managed a breath and sat up in the chair.

"I do ..." Colson leaned backwards and snapped his fingers a couple times to get Chase's attention. "I don't joke about that stuff and you know it Mod" He pulled Chase onto the couch when his boyfriend came over.

"I-" He looked at Chase again and chose his words carefully. "Is he ... serious?" Mod was more interested in hearing it from Chase, there was a more significant age gap between him and Chase than there was Chase and Kells.

Chase nodded and focused on the feel of Colson's hand on his shoulder. "It was ne who mentioned it" he said, his ears warm, a sign he was nervous. "Colson didn't know until then."

Couple days later

Mod typed out a message to Colson and ran a hand through his damp hair. 'As insane is it is, I'm saying yes' he bit his lip and jumped onto the counter and finished the message 'Vegas, the three of us, let's make it a weekend thing, Mod sent it and took a breath. "I might be crazy for saying yes but they're both cute"

Colson picked up his phone having just gotten out of the shower; reading Mods message; he grinned shaking his head. "Hey! Baby" He walked into his bedroom and crawled up the bed to Chase "Vegas? This weekend, Mod's idea, what happens in vegas stays in vegas" Colson kissed his boyfriend and hummed as Chase slipped an arm around his neck.

"Mmm" slipping an arm around Colson's neck; Chase pulled the man into a makeshift cuddle. "Yeah, sure that's fine" he mumbled and buried his head into Colson's neck.

♡ ♡ ♡ Vegas

Being his idea; Chase was a touch off put as he deffenitly wanted the threesome they'd planned but compared to both Mod and Kells, he was mostly inexperienced and feeling the 'pressure to perform.' It wouldn't have been a problem of it weren't for the fact that he was apparently struggling to get hard even with Kells's usual praise. "Got to do this a little differently, the usuals not doing it."

"That's not something to worry about" Colson's mind flitted through some of his past threesomes and had a lightbulb moment. "I might have an effective solution" He pressed a kiss to Chase's forehead before getting up. Colson dropped down between Mod's legs and looked up when one of his friends hands laced on his blonde locks. "Hey"

His eyes flicked downwards to Colson; a long ago familiar scene with Colson between his legs. "It's been a while" Mod's smile turned up as Colson's eyes crinkled at the corners. "Lets see if you still know what you're doing" He nudged Colson's cheek with his knee and sucked in a sharp breath when Colson kissed up the inside of his left thigh.

"The first time was a dare and I was bold enough to do it to spite Rook." He mumbled; kissing along Mod's thigh, mouthing at the base of his friends still clothed dick. "The brat really thought I was straight." Colson fliked his attention to Chase, grinning as the boys lip disappeared between his teeth. "You ain't the only one here who can suck dick, baby"

Something about Colson teasing the idea of sucking Mod's dick came off as hot to Chase and he hummed out a weak breath. "That's not news" Chase mumbled out;  his breath catching as Mod's fingers tugged at Colson's hair as if telling him to get to it.

Mod rolled his eyes as Colson took his time; pulling him forward he locked his fingers against the back of Colson's head. "Less talking, Kells" he looked towards Chase and bit back a moan when Colson palmed him. "He always talks this much?"

Pulling Mod forward in the hotel room chair; he tugged the man's boxers down, Colson's lip grazed over his lips as Mod looked back to him again. Colson obliged Mods hand cupped his head; stroking his friends dick; he took the tip between his lips and sucked at it.

Seeing Colson submit to Mods will played with his mind and he ended up squeaking out a gentle moan as his boyfriend looked at him. "Not always"

Sighing out a relived moan; Mod looked down at Colson, fighting the urge to thrust into the man's mouth. "A little more, baby" he hummed; grinning as he heard a moan pass Chase's lips. Lightly pushing at the blondes head.

Colson wrapped a hand around the base of Mods dick and took some of it into his mouth. Humming around it; he sucked his cheeks inwards around his friend. His back straightened as Mod's fingers pulled him forward again.

Mod moaned out as Colson's checks moulded to his dick as the man sucked at it, a hand grabbed at his thigh as Colson's mouth relaxed a little. "Kerp going Kells" Sliding his dick inwards a little more, he bit his lip as Colson gestured for Chase to come over.

Even with his mouth housing Mods dick; Chase was happy to oblige to what Kells suggested as his boyfriend flicked his attention between his friend and himself. "Ohh..." letting himself be pulled into a kiss by Mod; he whined into it as Colson's free hand palmed him.

Seeing his boyfriend and his bestfriend kiss eachother sent a shiver through him and Colson removed his hand from  mods dick. Pushing against mods hand; a heavy moan was halted as mod pushed him all the way down.

OOO

Both their attention turned to Chsse as they kissed up the boys thighs. Meeting in a kiss just below his boyfriend's dick; Colson sucked at Mod's lip and half giggled when mods tongue slipped past his own lips.

Mod pushed his tongue between Colson's lips and pulled him into a kiss; a hans gripping the man's ass. "Always my favorite fuck." He mumbled and winked as Chase easily invaded the kiss. "Hey there" mod chuckled as the boy pushed them off eachother.

Something in that kiss made Chase jealous and he took to his knees pushing Colson and Mod apart. "Kells might be a whore but he's mine." He said and kissed Mod; his hips arching forward against the older man as Colson's lips kissed up his neck.

"Yeah, he is" Mod shifted; his hands cupping the boys ass while they kissed. Nipping at the boy's lip, he moaned as Chase's obviously hard dick pressed against his thigh. "I'm not gonna steal him from you, Chsse" Mod carded his fingers through Chase's feather soft hair.

"No, cause you're fucking him and he's gonna suck my dick, well sort of." Colson grinned as an eager moan left Chase's lips. Biting at his boyfriend's neck; he ground his dick against Chase's ass and moaned as Mod's hand stroked it

Mod broke the kiss and pulled Colson's head up. "Sort of being you using his mouth." He kissed Colson happily and squeezed Chase's hip. "You okay with me being the one who fucks you?" He brushed a finger over Chase's blush red cheeks.

Chase heard Colson say it was going to be Mod fucking him and his breath caught. "Mm, mhmm" he nodded excitedly, he'd imagined being fucked by Mod before and couldn't believe it would actually happen.

Colson laughed into a kiss with Mod when Chase was a touch over eager. "Why am I not surprised by you" he kissed Chase's cheek and let his hand shake around to his boyfriend's dick. "Your my boyfriend and yet I'm letting my best friend fuck you."

"Because you know me too well" he gripped the back of Colson's neck and kissed him deeply before the two men switched places.

Later in the evening

Stepping out of the hotel shower; Colson wrapped a rather fluffy towel around Chase's shoulders and stopped a laugh as his boyfriend's arms came around his torso in an iron class grip. "Oh kay" he was nearly knocked backwards and caught the edge of the vanity to catch himself. "How are you not exhausted baby?" He kissed the boys head and smiled.

"He's basically a spring chicken, kells, you were at that age." Mod chimed and slipped into a shirt may have been one of Colson's he'd copped off the rapper Donna recent tour.

"Mmphhh" Chase shrugged his shoulders and grinned up at Colson as he huffed his overly tattooed boyfriend.  "Just hungry, kells" he smiled despite the dull tightness to the muscles in his jaw. "Pizza?" He asked; pulling Colson's head downwards into a kiss.

"Yeah, I guess so, best to eat now and down liquid tomorrow." He ruffled a hand through Chase's wet hair and walked them both back into the living space. "Mod, pizza" Colson smiled as Chaee snapped to attention and pulled a shirt over his head. "I- Mod, are you wearing my shirt?"

Mod looked down at the shirt and kept a straight face. "Maybe...its one of them." He ordered a pizza and was about to collapse onto the other bed when he was pulled onto the one Colson and Chase had claimed.

"You definitely aren't a groupie" Colson pursed his lips as he looked at the shirt and shook his head. "You're the little shit who stole a few of my shirts aren't you?" He pulled Chase back onto the bed and slipped his hands below both the man's shirts.