#this is molly's revenge dress

[farfallasims]

Molly Ward spotted with Caliente Sisters at The Oasis Grand Opening 📸

Molly Ward amongst other celebrities was spotted arriving at The Oasis' grand opening, a new restaurant in Downtown Oasis. Joined by eye candy and rising models, Nina & Dina Caliente, the three strutted into the establishment ready to enjoy the new cuisine of Oasis Springs.

[whorediaries-09]

i‘m craving rom weasley smut and im so happy you’re taking requests!!😩

how about ron x girlfriend!reader having passionate and hottttttt sex in the kitchen one night while they’re visiting his family. they have to be quiet because one thing about their relationship is, that they’re almost never casting a quiet spell because it’s just so exciting if there’s a possibility of being caught🤭

just imagine her on the counter and him pounding her and it’s soooo hard to be quiet!! and apparently they weren’t really that quiet because the next morning fred says „how’d you two sleep?“ with suuuuuch a big smirk on his face👀

ughhhh i love this request so much ⭐❗ ron was actually my first fictional crush. hope you like this!

heaven and back;

pairing- ron weasley x reader warning(s)- 18+ content. (let me know if i should add more) a/n- it's like that one scene in where harry and ginny were caught kissing and george was like 'morning'-

little train

' she went to heaven and back now everything is turning to black.'

the ache in your core began during dinner, when ron had been eating with one hand, and the other one buried deep into you. he slowly rubbed circles upon your clit, pumping his fingers in and out simultaneously. it made you squirm in your seat, and he surely enjoyed watching you hold back the pretty sounds from your mouth as you tired not to combust in front of his family and your friends.

but he had teased you, all through out dinner, 30 minutes of pure torture, just to leave you withering with anger and not make you finish. every time you'd feel the coil about to snap, you'd clench your thighs and the walls of your cunt and he would draw out his hand.

and by the look on his face, you could understand he did it on purpose. he enjoyed the game. two could play the game, you decided, so you changed into your 'night clothes' to join harry, ron and hermione for their usual conversation after dinner.

it was a soft silk night slip dress in burgundy. it was lined with black lace. it ended just above your knees. knowing molly wouldn't allow any of the girls to sleep along with the boys, you'd decided to wear the dress, to be a tease and take a little sweet revenge.

it had resulted in an awkward boner and a distraction to him. he sat painfully, the ache in his groin prominent, the bulge of his pants a few minutes away from being visible. he was too immersed in trying to hide his bulge that eve hermione beat him at chess. with an excuse of being tired, he called off the night, going to sleep.

you had thoroughly enjoyed the redness of his face and how visibly hot he was. if it weren't for going to bed, you were sure he'd turn into a tomato with steam rising from his ears.

but the ache in your core persisted, and try as hard you might, you couldn't get off yourself. so that's why you were awake in the middle of the night, dreaming of your boyfriend's fingers knuckles deep into you, as he wrecked your body, putting you away from the pain.

the ache travelled from your core to your throat, as you slowly gulped. you were thirsty. and the last jug of water was emptied by ginny. so you decided to be crawl down the kitchen, drink some water and sneak back right in.

initially, that had been your plan.

you surely didn't expect yourself to be sitting on the kitchen counter with ron's cock buried deep into your cunt as he pounds into you. he wraps your shaking thighs around his waist, letting him feel better, letting him go deeper.

'k-keep quiet,' he whispers into your ear. the slow sensuous way he speaks contrasts with the rough pace he wrecks you. you nod incoherently, burying your mouth into the crook of his neck, your mouth clasping onto the skin, trying to silent the moans that beg to be echo from your lips.

'just cast the s-shit- spell ron-' you say, as he removes your face from his neck, holding you by the throat. he presses onto your arteries slightly, letting the oxygen flow into your head admonish. he grins, pressing his sweaty temple against yours,

'no honey, what's the fun in that?'

the big pleading eyes of yours does nothing but turn him on further, as he rubs circles on your clit, making your toes curl and back arch. he hits your sweet spot just right, and paired with the the ruthless circles on your clit, the coil bubbles intensely within you, wrecking you slowly.

'f-fuck, so g-good. just there, ron please don't stop,' you scream, shame thrown out the window. he breathes you in, letting out a small gasp as your walls convulses around him.

'i don't fucking plan to stop,' he promises, chuckling darkly. you bite your lip, feeling the nerves tug your veins, the sensations colliding to create a beautiful ecstasy that bubbles within you, shimmying through every crevice of your body.

you scream his name, chained with obscene words as you release, the euphoria of the orgasm gripping you slowly, ruining you slowly. he releases himself deep inside you, his white hot orgasm painting your insides.

he brandishes your face with kisses, helping you off the counter and helping you clean up. with a final kiss on your cheek, he wishes you a goodnight as he descends to sleep.

*-

the morning breeze is cool. your back still hurts from the weird juxtaposition you'd been last night, getting your brain fucked out by the one who has his arm over your shoulders, pulling you closer to his body.

he's warm, the result of wearing the jumper his mum had knitted him last christmas. his fingers are wrapped around his cup of freshly brewed tea. he sips on it slowly, letting the taste wander on his tastebuds, enjoying the silent peace.

it doesn't long though, when his older brother, fred shows up. he's chewing on a piece of bread, a big smile- no smirk on his face.

'what are ya so jolly about, this morning?' you ask, humming slowly. he stands beside ron, pressing his shoulder upon his.

'well good morning to you too. it's not a crime to be jolly now is it?' he winks. you chuckle.

'good morning, fred,' ron grumbles, rolling his eyes. fred's smirk deepens as he replies,

'good morning ickle ronniekins. how did the both you sleep?'

he knew.

****************************************************

taglist - @reggieisfit @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader @jamespottergf @eternallybipanicking @fictional-magic @iamgayforyourmom1510

(if you want to be tagged please send a request through my inbox.

[baronessvonglitter]

The Haunting of David York

Dave York x ghost!reader

Word count: 2.6K

Summary: It's a typical Halloween night for Dave. The last thing he expects is for you to come back and get your revenge.

(Spoilers below the cut, so resume with caution)

WARNINGS: Rated M; Dead Dove Do Not Eat; mentions of wet work, murder, brief gore, threats of violence towards family, major character death (don't hit me)

Author's Note: this fic is for @mermaidgirl30 Jamie's Halloween Writing Challenge 👻 thank you for hosting this lovely fic challenge!

The idea for this started out as a random discussion about why we're afraid of ghosts if they can't really hurt anyone.. then I wanted to add our favorite suburban murder daddy to a ghost story and got some inspo from watching old school stuff like Creepshow and early seasons of AHS. (I haven't written horror in a very long time, so gimme a little break)

Shoutout to @yorksgirl for the Dave chit chats-- there will be a sweatpants scene in another fic, promise!

"Dave, not again!" Carol whines from the front steps.

"What?" he asks innocently, hefting the human-sized 'body bag' consisting of garbage bags stuffed with leaves and tied up with duct tape to fashion a corpse decoration in the yard for Halloween. Dave has been working on them all day. He's now up to seventeen.

"The HOA is going to complain," his wife shakes her head. "We got away with a warning last year. This time they'll definitely fine us."

"It's worth it to see the looks on everyone's faces," he insists. "Besides, I'll have them picked up and out of sight by the end of the night. I promise."

Dave doesn't love Halloween, but neither does he mind it. People dressing up to be anything other than themselves for one night only? Try doing that 24/7.

He doesn't get to parade around the Mr. Hyde aspect of his life. He doesn't get to knock on doors while in tactical gear, sniper rifle resting in one arm while he sticks an orange jack-o-lantern bucket out to get a handful of tooth-rotting sweets. He doesn't get to wake up on November first and pretend it was all for fun.

It's a silly holiday, but he likes scaring the shit out of the neighbors with the decorations. And his kids love planning their costumes months in advance. Alice is going as a zombie cheerleader (he never understands where these ideas come from) and Molly is some type of Pokemon Dave thinks is a squirrel but she insists is something called an Evoo or Evie or something completely asinine.

Carol usually insists on taking them out trick-or-treating, dressing up herself in a last-minute Minnie Mouse getup, a red sweater and black leggings, and a headband with sequined mouse ears to complete the look.

"You'll be okay here by yourself?" she asks, putting the finishing touches on her mouse whiskers and nose with liquid eye liner in the hall mirror as the girls wait impatiently to leave.

She asks that every year, as if something bad will happen on his watch, as if he can't hack it alone for a couple of hours.

"Unless Michael Myers or Pennywise show up, I'm pretty sure I'll be fine," he says, giving the girls a quick kiss before they go.

"What's Pennywise?" Alice asks as Carol herds them out the door, and she shoots her husband an annoyed glance.

There aren't as many trick-or-treaters this year, and Dave regrets that he'd bought so much candy. He dips his hand into the large tub of mini chocolate bars and fruit-flavored chews that stick to one's teeth and selects some Nerds, eating them straight from the tiny box. With barely concealed disgust he finds the candy corn, plucking the small packets of the hated sweets out from the bowl. He doesn't know how anyone can eat these. These can go to the next kids who ring the doorbell. When the next round of costumed kids come around he gives out huge handfuls. The less sweets they have in the house, the less sugar-fueled meltdowns he's likely to experience from his kiddos.

When there's more of a lull he relaxes on the sofa, mindlessly unwrapping a chocolate bar as the Halloween song hums from the TV, The Nightmare Before Christmas playing where the girls had left it on:

Boys and girls of every age wouldn't you like to see something strange? come with us and you will see this, our town of Halloween

He finds his glass of Macallan pairs nicely with a mini Hershey's Special Dark chocolate that he knows the little trick-or-treaters won't appreciate. The candy rests on his tongue as he savors the lingering taste of the scotch while the movie keeps playing. He absorbs a little of it, a now thirty-year-old film that came out when he was his kids' age. He watches idly, letting the scotch lull him into a nice semi-rest.

This is Halloween, this is Halloween pumpkins scream in the dead of night this is Halloween, everybody make a scene trick or treat, 'til the neighbors gonna die of fright

Enough of the singing. He changes the channel. There's postseason baseball on TV, but his favorite team isn't in the playoffs, and the announcers are annoying. Click. Of course there's a horror marathon on every channel. All the Scream movies, which he can appreciate for their ingenuity, Psycho, Shaun of the Dead, the entire Friday the 13th franchise even though it's Thursday, the 31st.

He flips channels, mindlessly, watching tidbits of each, digging into the leftover candy once again when he hears a thud.

With feline alertness he mutes the TV and sits up straight in one swift move. He zones in on where the sound came from, waiting, his racing heart the most audible sound in his ears.

Most people listen for a sound and relax when they don't hear it again, chalking it up to the house settling, or a rodent in the attic. But Dave knows better. He's been on the opposite side of this type of situation countless times. He doesn't relax and just chalk it up to mundane things like other people, because he knows there are guys like him out there-- becoming one with the shadows, as silent as possible--

It's coming from the back door.

In stealth mode, he grabs his gun from the safe in his study and quickly, skillfully, loads it. Adrenaline sings in his veins, carries him towards the danger. He flips on the light switch for the patio and the lights glare into the dark, lighting up nothing. His gun is still in his hand as he slowly opens the door, listening for footsteps.

Quiet.

A little disappointed that he's gotten riled up for no reason, he sighs as the rush of adrenaline dissipates and leaves him weak for a brief moment.

He keeps the gun in the holster at his side as he returns to the sofa, a little more on edge. It could be just teenage assholes playing pranks out of boredom, but he doesn't want to risk it.

He shuts the TV off and the silence becomes the largest thing in the room, even louder than his thoughts. He's taut as wire, not allowing himself to relax just yet. He's listening for more sounds. Most are explainable: a slow drip in the kitchen sink that Carol told him about just yesterday, the notification pings on his daughter's tablet that she left on the dining room table.

"Fuck!" he curses in surprise as the TV turns on, The Nightmare Before Christmas still playing where it left off:

I am the one hiding under your bed, teeth ground sharp and eyes glowing red I am the one hiding under your stairs fingers like snakes and spiders in my hair

Dave quickly snaps the TV off, removing the batteries from the remote.

It's just some electrical glitch he tells himself. And then the power goes out completely.

"Shit," he mutters, using his phone to light the way to locate the real flashlight. It's not in the cabinet beneath the kitchen sink where it's supposed to be left. Carol must have moved it. He checks the garage. Through the windows he can see the neighbors still have power, so he grabs the trusty flashlight and checks the breaker box. After fiddling with it, it won't reset. The flips do absolutely nothing.

Heaving a frustrated sigh, he pinches the bridge of his nose, taking out his phone from his pocket. The battery shows 1% before fizzling out to a black screen with the gray spinning wheel before dying.

"You've got to be shitting me," he grumbles. With another curse, he shoves the useless thing back in his pocket, letting the flashlight guide him out of the garage. He may as well get the keys and go try to find Carol and the girls, who are probably several blocks over by now, maybe get them to stay at her mother's place while he gets things sorted out with the power issue.

And then..

he hears the sound of his name spoken, a sharp. accusatory whisper, as if it's right next to him. It's so real he can feel the cold breath against his ear. It makes him jump out of his skin.

Alert, his body tense and ready for action, his eyes dart around the room as he begins to get his bearings back and his heart goes back to its normal rhythm.

Stupid.. he curses himself, sitting upright again. Annoyance colors his face.

But the sound of it.. of your voice still rings in his ear. And he'd know your voice among a thousand others.

Now he knows he's imagining things, because it couldn't have been your voice at all.

You're dead.

He doesn't want to think about that day, a cold autumn day just like this. In fact it'll be one year exactly on November 14th. The last day you saw sunlight, the last day you ever breathed.

It's not that you were bad, you were just in the way. There was no room for you in Dave's perfect, clock-precision life. He tried to make your end painless, make sure you didn't see it coming.

Some secrets don't stay buried forever..

Nobody knows he assures himself. It's impossible.. He'd even kept it from his teammates, and they knew nearly every damn thing about him.

No, this particular job.. the handling of you, had to be done on his own.

Casting a glance at the backyard patio again, the light from his neighbor's back porch glows eerily, spotlighting the patch of earth Dave had avoided until finally he'd caved and erected a bird bath with a small garden, a surprise for Carol's birthday. His wife never suspected that you were buried there, beneath her gift.

Without thinking, he's already walking outside, gun in one hand, flashlight in the other, leading the way to your grave. He never comes out here anymore. The guilt has become too crushing and he's not a man who dwells on guilt. He does what he has to and revisits the issue if problems arise.

You won't arise, though. When he closes his eyes he can still see the bullet hole in your temple, the blank look as the light left your eyes.

Forgive me, he'd thought, unable to speak it aloud as he stuffed your body in a bag and placed you in the dirt on a moonless autumn night.

When he reaches the stone path that leads to your innocent-looking grave marker, he has to process what he sees:

there's a hole in the ground, where some of the rocks and flowers around the bird bath have been upheaved, and in the breeze his flashlight shines on a tattered, empty black body bag. The scent of death greets his nostrils as he pales, trying not to vomit.

He goes back to the house, immediately on the defensive, irrationally expecting to find you there, clothes dirty and hair caked with mud and blood, a specter of his own paranoia and guilt.

It's still shrouded in darkness, the home that is supposed to be his shelter from such dark things as yourself. It's his domain, his castle, and in this trouble, without his family, he feels like less of a king.

"There's no fucking way," he mutters, stomach roiling with fear and suspicion. He opens the patio door and steps inside.

The whole place smells of death, of the grave.

You're in every corner, quiet, waiting, watching. But not impassive.

He feels you everywhere, himself made small by your ubiquitous pall. The gun in his hand feels useless, and this makes him angry.

You feed off his anger. You love it. It's the only thing you can feel anymore. Pure, unadulterated hate.

You slither towards him, wicked grin growing bigger as you approach him. Dave gets the chills down his back, not knowing just how close you are to him.

"Boo" you whisper lightly, ghostly breath caressing the shell of his ear.

Your cackling thunders in his ears as he whips around, eyes wide with fright. You delight in the fear he's giving off. The scent of it it so intoxicating. It's the only good thing about being dead.

"I should make your death as nice and quick and clean as you made mine" your voice echoes all around the room. Dave looks equal parts pissed and afraid as he tries to track you.

"But I won't."

You've been waiting for this night, this one unholy night where you'd be allowed to come back, to gather the unearthly powers granted to you. Halloween: the one night of the year when the living come back to haunt the dead.

And the son of a bitch had the gall to kill you in November. You had to wait almost a whole year for your revenge.

Gonna make it sweet.

It takes a lot of energy to assume something of a human form, but as you grab onto the fear he's giving off, as you use the most ancient of forces to pull your corporeal parts together, it gets easier. You don't feel afraid. You haven't, not since he killed you.

"Consider yourself lucky it's only you I'm after. If I had my way your family's blood would be splattered on these walls along with yours."

Dave shivers violently. "Please, don't!" He's not used to begging or pleading. He's actually on his knees. He tries not to look at you; your visage is too grotesque. Your flesh is falling off your face and your eyes are sunken into your head, giving a ghoulish appearance.

You force his gaze upon you with the ice-cold touch of your hand. "Your family is safe. For now. Hell, there's always next Halloween."

With the cracking open of his ribcage and the spilling of his guts you reach into him, finding the fullness of the heart, the organ he uses the least.

All Dave can do is scream and scream and scream.

The next day Carol sits at the dining room table, two detectives with her. Her coffee has grown cold, barely touched. She still bears the remnants of the makeup she'd put on to complete her costume last night. The girls are upstairs. She couldn't bear sending them to school, having them apart from her. Not while Dave is missing.

"He was fine last night. Normal," she adds, shrugging as she dabs at her eyes with a Kleenex.

Because of his position as a government agent, his disappearance is being taken very seriously. Officers are en route, dispatched to start searching the area, especially the nearby woods, which Carol has always feared.

Dave's gun is there, his wallet, phone, and keys also left behind.

One of the field officers comes in (there have been many people coming in and out of the house today) and motions to the backyard. "Halloween decoration?"

"Yeah," Carol sniffles, smiling just a little. "Dave likes to shock the neighbors. He promised he'd put them away before the morning.. but he never puts them out back.."

Out of guilt, or maybe just to give herself something to do, she gets up and goes to put the decorations away. The detectives follow.

Funny. There's just one.. she thinks, looking at the lone body bag on the lawn, tossed haphazardly next to her bird bath.

It's heavier than she expects. She's too petite to pick it up. Sighing, she kneels, the crunch of the fallen leaves beneath her knees. She'll just take the leaves out and throw the bag away.

Ripping it open with her nails she's stunned a moment, not processing what she's seeing before she lets out a bloodcurdling scream.

Wrapped up in the duct taped body bag is what's left of Dave.

dividers by @saradika-graphics 👑

tagging @almostempty @itwasntimethatdidit40 @milla-frenchy @salingers @zascal

[moeitsu]

Since it's pride month I wanna talk about something I've noticed in the Red Dead Redemption fandom:

The Bisexual erasure of Sadie Adler and Arthur Morgan.

I apologize if this comes across as harsh, but it's something that's been on my mind since I started interacting w/ this media. And as a bisexual, I wanted to discuss it further.

There is absolutely nothing wrong with shipping these characters with the same sex. Personally, I am a Charthur shipper till the day I die. I don't ship Sadie with anyone but her husband, but I still enjoy seeing the fanart and headcanons of the women she's shipped with.

That being said, these characters are not lesbian or gay. That's literally a fact, and if you think otherwise it is bisexual erasure.

Let's start with Sadie Adler. Her entire character arc is getting revenge on the O'Driscolls for killing her husband. Whom she mourns for years, and talks about frequently with Arthur/other camp members. Now, if you want to ship her w/ Abigail or Molly or whomever, go for it!! But she has loved and still loves her husband. She is not a lesbian, and she didn't just magically turn into a lesbian after Jake's death. If she had any love interests other than Jake, this would make her bisexual. (even Sapphic is still a more appropriate term than lesbian)

The same goes for women in real life who have dated men first, then dated a woman. Just because their current partner is the same sex doesn't mean we can assume they are suddenly lesbian. Calling characters lesbians even if they have been in a relationship with men before is bisexual erasure.

This same concept is applied to Arthur Morgan. He had previous relationships with women. (one of whom he still has strong feelings for) and he is attracted to women. We see this with his greeting dialogue and when he compliments people. I believe Arthur's character is more likely to be bisexual than Sadie's, given his interactions w/ some of the men in the game. But that doesn't erase the fact that he's still attracted to the opposite sex. Arthur is not a gay man. Disregarding his past relationships w/ women is a form of bisexual erasure.

There is a huge double standard here because if these character's were actually lesbian/gay and the fandom decided to ship them with people of the opposite sex (i.e headcanon they are bi), there would be a major discourse.

Whenever bisexual women and men are presented in the media I always notice a few things:

Bi women are "secretly straight"

Bi women "don't know their lesbian yet"

Bi men are "secretly gay"

As well as this funny little graphic below ↓

Like I said before, I am bisexual. And if I'm being honest this years pride month has been exhausting and mildly infuriating with how the community seems to disregard bisexuals in a hetero relationship.

I stopped talking about my bisexuality with people because once they know I have been in a committed relationship with a man for seven years, I am suddenly excluded from the conversation.

I've had ex-friends tell me that I only identify as bisexual to "fit in" with the queer community. I've had people in college assume I was lesbian bc of the way I dressed, and then try to tell me that I must be secretly lesbian when I tell them I'm Bi. (Ppl also assumed I was non-binary bc of the way I presented but that's another story)

This stuff doesn't just happen to fictional characters, it happens to real people every single day. I'm honestly tired of ppl saying "well my headcanon doesn't hurt anybody, they're not real." Yes it does!! You are supporting Bi erasure!!

That's all I'm gonna say on this topic for now. I'd love to leave it open for discussion, but please be nice. This isn't a call-out or me trying to antagonize the queer rdr community. I just wanted to get it off my mind.

[river-of-wine]

I hate the attitude that so many people in the RDR2 fanbase have that gun = strong. When discussing the women - Abigail, Molly and Mary specifically here because they are who I was talking about when I was told these things - who are, to me undoubtedly, strong women who withstand horrible circumstances, I am told that no, actually, they’re not strong. Only women like Sadie are strong, or maybe Miss Grimshaw, on a rare occasion Karen, but always Sadie, because Sadie has a gun and she kills people with it.

I know I pin a lot of things on misogyny in this fanbase, but in a gaming space mostly full of men, you’re going to see a lot of it, and the way men and some women who like Sadie discuss her has always reeked of it to me. They reduce her down to only being a gun, taking away the actual depth and emotion of her character in favour of seeing her as one of the men, because she wears boy clothes and has a gun and she’s nice to Arthur, so she’s cool. Not like Molly who cries all the time and wants to die, not like Abigail who’s doing everything for a man, who aren’t strong at all despite what they have been through because they never go on a shooting spree, which as we know is the only thing that makes a woman strong.

The way Sadie is viewed by these people also completely diminishes the person Sadie actually is. I have so often found that Sadie is only held in such favour by certain men in the fanbase because she is the easiest woman to turn into a man, as it were, or they’re attracted to her. She dresses like them, spends most of her time around them, kills lots of people like them, and she’s still very pretty, so if you only value women for fitting in with men or for how attractive you find them, Sadie is the perfect candidate. She challenges plenty of men, but not Arthur, so she’s a good one, and she’s even got a more neutral stance on Dutch, so she’s doubly a good one, because now she’s not angry with the cool leader either.

This is not to say Sadie gets no hate. She absolutely does, and it’s all as unwarranted as you’d expect. Sadie has established skills with her gun, she’s going to be skilled with it when she picks one up, her and her husband shared the work as she says. She is rash and she has a short fuse, but her husband was murdered and she’s not going to be at all calm about that. Her final mission is optional. If you don’t want Arthur to go on that, don’t make him. She got a lot of people killed unnecessarily. She’s flawed, she’s very, very flawed, and she’s also not the only character to cause the deaths of innocent people during the game. But just as much as overly criticising her behaviour and looking at no motivations or reasoning she might have had, treating her more critically than you would the men, reducing her down to her flaws is an unfair view of her character, so is reducing her down to a generic cool woman character with nothing happening besides guns and chest, because that’s apparently all women are good for to plenty of the men in the fanbase.

The point of this ramble is just that Sadie is more than her gun, she has a whole personality in there, and while I do think it’s a shame that the entirety of her character was hinged on her revenge until the epilogue since it gave us quite a limited perspective on her, we still get to meet her properly when the epilogue comes around and she has mostly gotten over her grief. Sadie isn’t just a gun and her strength doesn’t just come from her killing lots of people, and there is no lack of strength in Molly, Abigail and Mary because they either kill very few people or none at all.

The strength these women have does not come from the bodies at their feet. Arthur Morgan isn’t a strong man because he kills people. Why is that only a condition for the women? Why does Abigail coming from being a teenage sex worker, a dangerous industry at the best of times, to a very young mother trying her best to keep her family together, to give her son a better life than she had not constitute as strength? What about that does not make her a strong person? Same for Mary, same for Molly. Both went through a lot of abuse, Mary did all she could to protect her brother and Molly’s drove her off such a frightened, paranoid edge, leaving her convinced everybody in the gang who she already knew weren’t the biggest fans at her were laughing at her, and yet she still went through multiple sessions of being sweater by the Pinkertons - who, I’ll remind you, treated Strauss rough enough to kill him - and didn’t say a word. How aren’t they strong?

They don’t have guns. Abigail kills Milton, but he’s a character you 100% hate by now. Mary and Molly never kill anybody. If your one condition for a female character being cool and strong is they shoot a lot of people, these three don’t fit that, but if that’s your condition for the women, that says more about you. Stop using Sadie Adler to back up your misogynistic feelings about the other women, she’d hate that

[whinlatter]

I need to know how you think Ginny or Hp characters in general reacted to the death of Princess Diana. She died right before Ginny left for Hogwarts her 6th year. I know wizards aren’t into muggle culture but Lady Di transcends cultural barriers. Plus that trio looking for the queens purse advert is definitely canon.

i did not expect this ask, and i regret to inform you my response to it was to write the following incredibly stupid ficlet about ginny and the death of princess diana. don't ask me why i did this because i don't know!

The last day of August 1997, she comes downstairs in her dressing gown and finds Kingsley in the kitchen with a Muggle newspaper that says that Princess Diana is dead. ‘Car crash,’ he says, pushes the paper across the table. No-one’s shared news of any sort with her in weeks - the only child and non-Order member of the house, at best an irrelevance and at worse a nuisance for the crumbling wartime resistance - so she forgets about the kettle she's just boiled and sits down, snatches up the paper, reads hungrily. High speed car chase, it says, Diana and her boyfriend, in a tunnel in Paris, being chased down by paparazzi. ‘I met her once,’ says Kingsley, musingly, sipping his tea.

She looks up. ‘Really?’

‘Mmm. With the Muggle PM.’

‘What was she like?’

Kingsley thinks about it. ‘Funny,’ he says. ‘But sad.’ 

She hangs on to the paper. When she’s inevitably ousted from the kitchen by the arrival of yet more Order folk with important business and no trace of interest in her, she takes it up to her room, clears a space on the floor between the maps of the castle she's been memorising and her now dog-eared copy of The Dark Arts Outsmarted and flattens it out on the floor. The Muggle pictures of the princess, of course, don’t move. Yet Diana manages to always be in motion in the photographs, full of life, running and dancing and gallivanting, long legs stretching across roads or dangling off the end of great boats, her speeding across ocean waves on what looks like a water motorbike or down steep snowy slopes on bits of wood with poles in her hands. She's forced to hoist Crookshanks up and out of the way when he tries to paw his way across the pull-out spread of Diana in her wedding dress. 'You used to live with Muggles sometimes, didn't you?’ she demands of a squirming Crookshanks. ‘Show a bit of respect.'

She’d known about the princess before, of course. Hard to avoid her, even among wizards. The Muggleborn girls had started it, tacking up endless pictures of her many outfits on their walls. Their better-blooded peers had followed, and she’d thought even the Slytherins would be unable to deny there was a magic, a magnetism, to Diana, in  fabulous dresses one day and the coolest of boyish suits the next, all draped off of her long, lean frame with an effortless elegance that most of the awkward adolescent girls of the castle could only dream of. There was a time, in the run-up to the Yule Ball, when you couldn’t move for pictures of that dress. ‘It’s her revenge dress,’ Lavender had informed her matter-of-factly at dinner, ‘because her husband cheated on her with a married woman he’d been in love with years before.’ An off-the-shoulder slinky black number with the chunky pearl necklace, the dress had been the envy of every witch in the castle. ‘I’d definitely pull Diggory if I had that dress,’ a sixth-year girl had  lamented to her mates over the sinks in the fifth-floor girls’ bathroom the next day.

That evening, her own dress from her mother had arrived. She’d sent for it, when Neville had asked her to the ball, bestowing upon her the dubious honour of being the second most pitying girl in all of Gryffindor. It’s an old one of Molly’s from the sixties. She’d always admired it on her mum in old photographs taken before she was hers, worn on nights out and parties from a past life that her mother only hints at, with a twinkle in her eye and a firmly zipped lip. Now, though, the dress looked all wrong - too chaste, too floral, not an ounce of sex appeal about it, throughly unmemorable and unlikely to catch a single eye, fresh-pickled toad-green or otherwise.

(In her bunk that night, she'd lain awake and taunted herself with cruel, self-flagellating fantasy. Imagined striding past the Boy Who Lived wearing that dress, the revenge one, making him regret he’d ever asked Cho Chang to the ball, making him forget all about her shiny hair and her pretty smile and her cool friends and her easy grace, making him notice someone else instead - his best mate’s feral little sister who is funny, actually, just not when he’s around, and whom he last seemed to have thought about when he’d hauled her off her own deathbed, and never since.)

As adolescence wore on, though, she’d soured on Diana. Too chic to be likeable, rich girl with a life of frocks and endless frolicking, intolerably poised and swan-like. The sight of her glimpsed on Muggle newsstand in the village stirred up the same feelings of eye-roll envy as her sister-in-law, which always boded ill. Looking at her now, though, she wonders if there wasn’t something she’d missed, something else to her. Diana’s set jaw looks more guarded than she remembered. The wide eyes ringed by thick smudgy black she’d once thought coquettish now look lost, full of reproach.

Dean’s mum, she remembers now, had loved her. ‘She won’t hear a bad word about her,’ he’d said, rolling his eyes. ‘Says she was the best thing that ever happened to that family.’ Ever her father’s daughter, she’d pestered him with endless questions, like she did all things Muggle: about the divorce, about the royals and succession and the Muggle press and the high drama of it all, until he’d got bored and suggested they go find a broom cupboard, get down to more serious business. Wonders how Dean’s mum must be feeling today. But then she remembers her son is, for all intents and purposes, Muggleborn in a new regime that wants him dead, and suddenly feels slightly sick. She puts the paper away, then, and gets back on with packing up her war room for the morning’s train journey out to the front.

Diana’s sons, the paper said, survive her. They’re called William, and Harry. Good names, in her book. She can't help but think of them as she packs, the boys - children, who woke up one morning to find themselves motherless.

‘It’s mayhem in London,’ says her father, that night, over dinner. ‘There’s hundreds of people outside the palace, leaving flowers and things. I’ve never seen anything like it. There'll be a big public funeral - all the royal family will have to be there, including the boys. They'll have no choice. The Muggles are heartbroken. I dread to think what would happen if there was an attack during that - Kingsley, we ought to talk more about that, actually...'

'Those poor children,' her mother whispers, though that’s nothing new, these days — she whispers that every night.

'Are they still in London?' she asks her dad, quietly, over the washing up. 'At Grimmauld? Have you heard anything?'

'No news, dear. I'd tell you if I knew.'

Lying awake that night with her trunk packed, she wonders if this has all passed them by - her brother and almost-sister and the boy who lived she knows she’s supposed to forget. She imagines them sat the table in that grungy basement kitchen, newspaper spread in front of them. Perhaps they, too, have been poring over Diana's finest outfits, in memoriam. Probably not, though — not with a murder to plot, a Dark Lord to kill, a Tom to hunt. Three child soldiers with a war to win.

Still, the thoughts persist as she tries to fall asleep. Thinks about being hunted, boys without mothers, a city full of mourners. Muggles with their tears and their flowers and their prams at the palace gates. It’s like it's the end of something, something fun and frivolous, dress-up and glamour and girlhood. One day, you're thirteen and looking at princesses in party dresses in the newspaper — and the next, you're sixteen, and the newspapers tell you that the parties are over and the princesses are dead. Something about the tragedy of the thing. The pointlessness, the waste.

artwork: diana and her nymphs hunting by paul de vos (1636)

[ohwhataniight]

I'm stuck on your heart - Chapter 2

On AO3

Chapter 1

John cannot count the times they’ve run around London, chasing a criminal, until their lungs hurt.

Once the police have caught the right wing news anchor who got revenge on his wife by replacing her bottle of Dior’s Hypnotic Poison with acid, they’re left trying to catch their breath a few blocks away from Baker Street.

They start walking home, gloved hands in their pockets, their noses red from the cold. The streets are bustling with cars and passers-by, the fairy lights from the shops and the cafes flicker and flash, colourful and loud. John turns to look at Sherlock. “So. Reggie Smith, then.”

“Obviously.”

“This was... horrible. What was even the motive?”

“You’ll find that misogyny is the driving force behind 20% of this country’s crimes, John. Simple. Crude. Runs deep and is quite horrible, as you said”.

“Yes, thank you,” John purses his lips into a thin line. Their breaths come out in small puffs of smoke.

“Will the burns heal?”

"She'll need plastic surgery, but probably. Thank the gods people don’t spray perfume directly on their faces”.

They stand in front of the door of 221B and John fishes in the pocket of Sherlock’s coat for the keys. A tacky piece of artificial mistletoe is hanging above their heads. “She keeps putting those up,” John murmurs.

“At least these are not poisonous, John.”

Molly greets them upstairs, looking rather exhausted. Rosie, who’s only wearing her nappie, is running around the living room with her chubby, wobbly legs, making a toy airplane fly.

“I couldn’t put her to bed,” Molly sighs. “Couldn’t even get to dress her.”

“Don’t worry, Molly, we’ve got this now,” Sherlock takes off his Belstaff and scarf, and with two long strides he grabs Rosie and lifts her up in the air. She giggles and grabs on his face.

“Thank you,” John mouths. “Will you stay for dinner?”

Molly smiles and nods. “So, who was it?”

“Reggie Smith,” Sherlock provides while making his way to the kitchen to microwave the stew and mashed potatoes they made this morning, after already having put Rosie in her onesie and socks.

“The news anchor?”

“The one and only”.

“It tracks,” she shrugs. “Horrible, though.”

They eat in front of the TV. Molly leaves them after the 3rd episode of the Wallace and Gromit series, full and contented on the couch.

John wakes up freezing in the middle of the night. Bleary eyed, his teeth chattering, he wraps his robe around him, and walks downstairs, where he finds Sherlock lying on a mattress on the floor in front of the fireplace, with a Rosie-shaped bump sleeping soundly on his chest, under the duvet.

“Heating’s broken,” Sherlock whispers. “I wanted to wake you up so that you wouldn’t freeze but she fell asleep on me.”

“It’s ok. Thank you for bringing her here.” John grabs a fleece blanket and makes his way to the couch.

“Don’t be daft!” Sherlock shout-whispers. “This is a terrible idea for your shoulder. You know you won’t be able to move for days. The mattress here is anatomic.”

John considers that, swallows hard. Sherlock is right. He’s not getting any younger and his body hurts more and more every day as it is, picking Rosie up, running around London and all. “Right. Yes.” He checks that the fire is well-protected and that they're lying at a safe distance from it and makes his way to the mattress, lifting the duvet, sliding under it, and lying flat on his back. He can feel Sherlock’s body radiating heat a few inches away from his arm. “Good night”.

"Good night, John".

Sherlock starts snoring softly soon after, but John is unable to sleep. He lies there in the dark, all but the lights on the tree, looking at their reflections dance on the ceiling, listening to Rosie’s calm breathing, feeling the electricity on his skin from the spot where Sherlock almost touches him. He’s holding his own breath, but his heart pounds for hours, so much so that he fears the noise will wake his friend and co-parent and their child.

He wakes up wrapped in an exquisite warmth. The first thing he smells is Rosie’s powdery head, but there’s also a hint of sweet sweat and a faint trail of cologne. There are legs tangled up with his own under the duvet, and an arm resting heavy on his waist. He slowly opens a bleary eye and immediately panicks. Him and Sherlock are cuddling. To be more accurate, Sherlock has wrapped his whole body around him with his tentacles and Rosie is snuggled up between them. “Mo’ning daddy!” She grins sleepily, snuggling up closer to him.

He doesn’t know if Sherlock is awake. If he is, he’s trying to hide it, but John can tell a sleep cycle from another. It seems like it’s Sherlock’s turn to hold his breath.

He brings up his index finger to his mouth, motioning to Rosie to be quiet. Rosie opens her eyes widely. “Sec’et?” she whispers, bringing her own index fingers to her mouth.

John smiles and nods, trying to disentangle his body from Sherlock’s grip. Him and Rosie slide quietly to the kitchen, where he serves her cereal and manually squeezes oranges to provide her with some Vitamin C.

Sherlock walks into the kitchen an hour later, already having gotten up and showered before facing them. John wonders if Sherlock woke up just as hard as he did, whether he remembers any of it. “Morning,” Sherlock yawns, patting his hair with a towel. He’s wearing clean pyjamas and his festive burgundy robe.

“Good morning,” John smiles, trying a bit too hard to pretend like everything is normal. “I’m making eggs.”

“I can see that, John.” He reaches for the kettle and pours some coffee into a seemingly clean mug. “Morning, Watson.”

Rosie hands him a Troll doll with lime green hair. Good girl, not speaking with her mouth full.

“I’ll call Mrs. Hudson to get the heating fixed. We’ll freeze to death,” John tries to sound nonchalant. “How did you even get into the shower? Didn’t you become an icicle?”

“It took a lot of courage, John.”

“Mhmm. What are you doing today?”

“Working.”

“A case?”

“No.”

“Your mystery experiments at Mrs. Hudson’s basement again?”

“Probably.”

“Sherlock, I appreciate you taking your chemistry kit elsewhere to keep Rosie safe, but I swear, if you blow us up...”

“You know your safety and Watson’s is my utmost priority”.

John opens his mouth to say something, then closes it again. “Are you ever going to share what you’re doing down there with the class?”

“It’s a surprise,” the corners of Sherlock’s lips curve upwards slightly. He gets up, ruffles Rosie’s hair. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

“Aren’t you having breakfast?” John shouts, but Sherlock has already disappeared out the door.

John sighs. It’s a good too much, he supposes. But still, it’s too much.

Chapter 3

[lazydoodlesandfanfic]

SHERLOCK MASTERLIST

*DISCLAIMER: SOME STORIES MAY BE TAGGED FOR WRONG DEMOGRAPHIC (ie, Not GN, male or fem) IF SO, PLEASE POLITELTY INFORM ME SO I CAN FIX IT

SHERLOCK HOLMES

Testing His Deductions (Sherlock X Fem!Reader)

High Pitched (Sherlock X Fem!Reader)

Saturn (Sherlock X Fem!Reader)

Why Not? (Sherlock X Fem!Reader) Pt 1/ Pt 2

Fell In Love (Sherlock X Fem!Reader) Pt1 Pt2

I'm Looking Right At Him (Sherlock X Fem!Reader) Pt 1/ Pt 2

My Own Personal Hero (Sherlock X Fem!Reader)

Deaf (Sherlock X Fem!Reader)

John's Little Sister (Sherlock X Fem!Reader)

We're Married (Sherlock X Wife!Reader)

Arms (Sherlock X Reader)

Low Risk (Sherlock X Teen!Reader)

Old Actions (Sherlock X Teen!Reader)

Bad Day (Sherlock X Teen!Fem!Reader)

Who's Getting Together (Greaser!Sherlock X Fem!Greaser!Reader)

Deducing A Deducer (Sherlock X Teen!Reader)

Past Resemblance (Sherlock X Teen!Reader) *TW

Uncle Locky (Sherlock X Niece!Reader)

Not Feeling Loved (Sherlock X Daughter!Reader)

Binder (Sherlock X Trans!Son!Reader)

Favourite Big Brother! (Sherlock X Baby!Brother!Reader)

MYCROFT HOLMES

A Friend In Need (Mycroft X Fem!Reader) *TW

Dirty Little Secret (Mycroft X Fem!Reader)

Baby Sitter (Teen!Mycroft X Teen!Fem!Reader)

Falling In Love (Mycroft X Fem!Reader)

You Love Me? (Mycroft X Fem!Reader)

A Little Us (Mycroft X Wife!Reader)

Long Lasting Crush (Mycroft X Fem!Reader)

Upstairs Neighbour (Mycroft X Fem!Reader)

He Seems Nice (Moriarty X Fem!Reader)

Monsieur (Mycroft X Fem!Reader)

You'll Be Alright (Mycroft X Fem!Reader)

Secret Relationship (Mycroft X Moriarty!Fem!Reader)

Baby Holmes (Mycroft X Pregnant!Reader)

Personal Case (Mycroft X Reader)

I'll Be Your First (Mycroft X Reader)

Mycroft? (Mycroft X Reader)

Your First Time With Mycroft Holmes Would Include...

A Need For Attention (Mycroft X Daughter!Reader) Pt 1/ Pt 2

Honesty And Truth (Mycroft X Daughter!Reader)

Walk Away (Mycroft X Daughter!Reader)

Tattooed Skin (Mycroft X Daughter!Reader)

Still Proud (Mycroft X Daughter!Reader)

Tea Party (Mycroft X Daughter!Reader)

Affection (Mycroft X Daughter!Reader)

Babysitting (Child Mycroft X Baby!Reader)

JOHN WATSON

Mental Scars (John X Fem!Reader)

MORIARTY

Keep Her Safe (James Moriarty X Fem!Reader)

Unknowing Pawn (Moriarty X Holmes!Reader)

Based On Lies (Moriarty X Fem!Reader)

Expensive Flowers (Moriarty X Fem!Reader)

The Normal One (Moriarty X Holmes!Reader)

Sebby's Sister (Moriarty X Fem!Reader)

Excuse Me? (Moriarty X Fem!Reader)

Read You Like A Book (Moriarty X Reader)

Seven Nation Army (Mycroft X Reader)

View (Moriarty X Teen!Reader)

Moriarty Helping His Sister Through An Abusive Relationship Would -Include...

Moriarty Dating A Hobby Artist With Anger Issues Would Include...

Wanting Normalcy (Moriarty X Teen!Fem!Reader)

MULTIPLE

You Made Her Cry (John Watson X Sister Reader, Mycroft X Fem!Reader)

Her Revenge (Sherlock X Fem!Reader X Moriarty)

The Dress (Sherlock X Sister!Reader X Mycroft)

Like Her (Sherlock & Mycroft X Sister!Reader)

Newbie (Sherlock, John & Lestrade X Fem!Reader)

Fitting In With The Weirdos (Sherlock, Mycroft & John X Fem!Reader)

Drama Queens (Sherlock X Reader X Mycroft)

Not Part Of The Plan (Moriarty X Holmes!Sister!Reader X Moran)

Comparisons (Mycroft X Fem!Reader X Sherlock)

OTHER

Overprotective (Molly X Sister!Reader)

Happy Anniversary (Molly X Fem!Reader)

Spotting The Odd (Eurus Holmes X Teen!Fem!Reader)

Bonding Time (Eurus Holmes X Reader)

The Flirting Game (Lestrade X Fem!Reader)

[tlbodine]

Overthinking: You Can't Scare Me

This is one of those Goosebumps books that completely missed my radar at the time. I didn't know it existed until I started doing this series. Which is, on the balance, probably for the best. I think kid-me would have been very excited by the cover, which is one of the scariest in the series, but disappointed by the story, which is basically a daisy chain of shaggy dog stories.

You Can't Scare Me came out in January of '94, the first book in the second year of the original run and #15 in the series. It's also a playful, one may say indulgent, experiment with form. A frustrating near-miss of a story? Or a thoughtful treatise on the art of writing horror? Let's overthink it.

First, the Plot: This one has another ensemble cast, and much like Say Cheese and Die, a great deal of You Can't Scare Me is simply spent riffing on the interplay of its various characters. You've got Eddie, his friend Hat (who always wears a baseball cap), and a couple gum-chewing girls named Molly and Charlene.

All of them are jealous of class know-it-all and possessor of Big Dick Energy, Courtney.

It starts with a field trip where Courtney not only shows off her academic prowess, but fearlessly handles a snake and some bees, both of which had frightened Eddie. He's embarrassed about this and vows to get revenge by scaring her, and his friends conspire to make it happen.

Unfortunately, no matter what they do, they simply cannot scare Courtney. Their plans keep going sideways.

They hide a rubber snake in her lunch bag, but she shares her lunch with the teacher and HE gets the scare instead.

They try dropping a tarantula on her head but miss, catching Molly instead, and Courtney saves the day.

They try to get Charlene's dog to do a vicious Cujo act and scare her in the woods, but they lose the dog and Courtney ends up finding him -- and another, vicious-seeming-but-sweet-in-her-hands stray.

Courtney is infuriatingly calm and heroic. She even rescues a cat out of a tree.

Finally, at wit's end trying to find something to do, Eddie convinces his brother to help join the scare attempts. Eddie's brother has been filming a movie about a local legend of mud monsters, who were created when a poor part of town was flooded and the rich folks did nothing to save them. Now, on full moons once a year, the mud monsters rise up for vengeance.

Nobody believes in the mud monster myth, but they decide to give it a shot anyway, having the older teens dress in mud monster makeup and luring Courtney out into the woods by the creek. Just as they are creeping up on her, staggering and moaning their way toward her...Eddie sees his brother and friends. They had a flat tire and were late.

The mud monsters coming up on Courtney are REAL.

She is scared for the first time -- truly terrified! -- and runs away. Unfortunately, Eddie and his friends are ALSO too scared to gloat and enjoy it, so they also have to run away.

Later, Courtney is gloating about having seen real monsters, and Eddie is resigned to the reality that they will never be able to scare her. They're just too scared themselves.

Overthinking It: This book is so strange. The backstory of the mud monsters is both tragic and horrific, but they are relegated to a final twist, more background character than anything. The majority of the "scares" in this book are actually inverted. We see, time and again, Eddie imagining how the scary scene will play out. And then we witness how it ACTUALLY goes, unravelling the frightening bits.

It's like that forum game, where you undo the thing the person above you said. Or like de-powering a boggart with laughter.

You know how every Goosebumps book has a fake-out "Gotcha!" scare in an early chapter? This book is all gotcha, all the time.

What's particularly funny about this book is that the main characters are clearly the villains. Courtney is a little condescending, but she's well-meaning and generally kind. She's not a bully. This isn't like a Haunted Mask situation, or Be Careful What You Wish For, where she's tormenting these kids and they're here to get back at her righteously. Eddie and his friends are kind of dicks, and they deserve to have their pranks blow up in their faces once in a while.

I think in some ways, You Can't Scare Me is actually a book about writing Goosebumps books. It feels like an exorcism of sorts, a release valve for the frustration of churning out title after title of what you hope will be your best, scariest work, for an unappreciative audience who is impossible to please. You want to be scared, kids? You REALLY want to be scared? Well, damn -- how do you do that without getting too real, and actually traumatizing the little brats?

But perhaps that's too cynical of a take. It's not rooted in anything - just my own projection - and it may simply be that Stine (a comedy guy at heart) wanted an excuse to write something funny. And this book is funny, if you meet it on its own terms. It made me laugh aloud more than once. And, hey, you know what? Sometimes that's enough.

If You Liked This, THESE Will Really Give You Goosebumps:

Weird recommendation, but hear me out: Last Cut of the Dead. It's a zombie movie in three acts, and I don't want to spoil it for you, but let's just say it's a movie about theater, and it's both scary and extremely funny. Very similar vibes.

For another darkly funny take on the "friends conspire and scheme, and a prank goes horribly wrong," try Jawbreaker (wherein a group of girls has to cover up an accidental murder).

Incidentally, there's a folklore root to this particular story, as collected by the Brothers Grimm: The Story of the Youth Who Went Forth to Learn What Fear Was. It's one of my favorite fairytales, actually, because it's about a guy who spends the night in a haunted house and just repeatedly fails to be afraid by all the spooky shit going on around him.

[remotus11]

Shit ton of FoE OCs that I don't have refs for

(or i have but they're fugly lol)

Long post under cut

Hawk

Not his real name, hawk is ashamed of his actual name an cutiemark so hides them.

Been there, done that, done her, done him, done all of em))

Forgot to add that he's short as fuck. This is weight reduction for better flight trust me bro

Bro fucks everything that moves. Element of Disloyalty

He got few funny outfits

Fading Light

The failed "Protagonist tm"

Tried to become a princess like Twi by creating Elements of Disharmony but womp womp

Went insane with revenge after failing her "Protagonist tm " goals, fused with her dark creepy def cursed magic amulet and became Rising Dark (sth like Nightmare Moon)

Rosalia and Wolfheart

"Wolf" is read like in german with "o" sound instead of "oo"

Mafia boss and her bodyguard husband :3

Rosalia has a dress and a rose for every occasion

Muzzle Flash and Barrel Blaze

Famous gunslingers in the past, were called The Bullet Brothers

Muzzle Flash wears his brothers bandana after his death

Barrel is Thunder Blast's shitty alcoholic father. Well was until Thunder fried this head into the ground. Best son in the world :)

Muzzle is Thunders uncle, not the best moral example but at least he didn't drink. He's like 75 now, retired from mercs and owns a gun shop

Polly Pint and Molly Mint

Twin sisters. Polly was a barpony and Molly was a farmer

Polly was good friends with Muzzle and Barrel and sometimes babysat Thunder. Unsuccessfully tried to seduce Muzzle Flash cos her boring husband died and she was bored lol. But his aro/ace ass wouldn't give in

Both sisters had died of old age

King Carmine

Self-proclaimed Changeling king with basically no hive yet

Worked as a prostitute at the Blue-winged Filly brothel (blue-winged grasshopper (Oedipoda caerulescens) is called голубокрылая кобылка(filly) in russian also has similar name in ukrainian, but this world play and brothels grasshopper theme doesn't really work in english idk) under two alter egos Caramel Carmine and her male counterpart Carmine Caramel to feed of scraps of lust in this evil loveless world *dramatic faint*

Kinda reformed after he found out he can love (but in abusive and obsessive way)

Before reformation

Has been born way before The War, served Chrysalis as a soldier, been there at the Canterlot Wedding( i don't care about FoEs actual canon ok all the shit happened after season 4!!!!!). When the War happened fell into hibernation, woke up the present day with no conection to the Hive.

I could make him an Element of Greed but idk honesty

No name yet idk lol (feel free to propose some names if you want)

Element of Unhappiness

Sprite was made in Pony town cause Ashes town had no good mane options

No cutiemark is intentional she's an adult but haven't done anything meaning in her life besides sitting in the Stable 49 and being depressed

Beefy Butchers

You can certainly trust her with a knife yes definitely give her a knife nothing bad would happen she's totaly a sane person :)

Порохобот ( полное имя Жигуль Порошенкович Прайм)

There's no translation to that shit lmao sorry not sorry

Broken and lost military robot that Hawk was tasked to retrieve, before saying "fuck it i'm leaving" to another military organization for a 1000th time lol

Kebab lol

Feral kirin ghoul. His nirik form burns with balefire

"kebab has rotten"

"ow fuck kebab is buuuuurning"

That's it lol for now...

[chordsykat]

It's the Return of the Revenge of the Sequel to

Fanart Free For All

(Part 5... or is it 6? I lost count...)

And I got to use a lot of cool-ass inking techniques on this go-around! Let's see what you guys had me draw!

First up... WHAT IF... @catboy-bill-nye 's Cordelia got to meet the other Dethmoms? I have a feeling it'd go fine... but then again... she might end up suggesting to her son Charles he have Molly killed. Oh well!

WHAT IF... Murdertooth Records was a thing that actually happened? @claudia-nomusaabara 's Tina would almost certainly find success with the label... even if her name and the title and credits and everything else was dwarfed by the producer's credit on the front and back of the album. :P

And another request from @claudia-nomusaabara -- WHAT IF... Skwisgaar and Tyr were still close? God I miss this fuzzy little stepdad-man. I wish this happened (maybe it could still happen..?)

And so we come to WHAT IF... Toki and Teja got along for five minutes.... It's never gonna happen, @curiouslyhigh. We both know it. But at least it's funny when Teja puts a hand on his old man's younger incarnation's mouth and tells him to shush because the grownups are talking.

And speaking of Toki! @pan-flute-skeleton asked WHAT IF... he actually practiced for once? I'd say he'd be just in time to bang out some tunes with Neil! Happy April 13th to all who celebrate!

But that's not all! WHAT IF... Skwisgaar and @pan-flute-skeleton's Vivi publicly endorsed the very Swedish use of bananas on pizza? I probably don't have to tell you that such praise for an obscure topping might just be the hot new trend of our immediate futures, kids!

And now for something a little different... WHAT IF... @el-michoacano's Aurelia was getting married? But to whom is she getting married? Nacho? Domingo? Jesse? (okay not Jesse) (God I love that dress. You're right, King. So extra. But so what?)

And now for the opposite side of domestic bliss! WHAT IF... Caj was Shawn Michaels and her "Diesel" was an entire entourage of some of her very favorite chicks (Dolly @dolly-macabre - St. Cecilia @gointothevvater - Ness @failedintsave and Nita (me buuut requested by @andreaswasneverhere ) (where can I get a belt-buckle that says "DADDY"?)

And last but certainly not least, we have the best thing I've ever drawn, here... WHAT IF... Charles took some punk fashion lessons from @cruisingheightswithdragons's Kris? I'd say it's about time. The old boy could use a makeover. :9

Really really fun to doodle your babies and your brain droppings, my loves! I look forward to doing more of these as soon as possible. :D

[kcuf-ad]

Hey I’m bored and stuck in class so let’s do something stupid, you don’t have too answer this if you don’t want to bestie👍

Assign one of your favorite characters with your friends (as well as yourself if you want but we probably already know the answer XD) as a partner, not your friends favs your faves

Bestie... You should not have given me this power.

ALRIGHT! HERE WE GO WITH MY FAVOURITES! BWAHAHA!

You are getting Joseph Joestar. Why? Because this man is practically a Florida man that is English. He punched a cop, drag dressed and faked his own Death, twice. Not to mention he pulled a gun on a vampire.

@thundermarisol I will give her Molly McGee cause she would love to be besties with Molly as she is upbeat, positive, understanding and I am fully convinced she plays Kirby games.

@angel-of-sweet-revenge I am giving you Yuno purely because I think it would be funny that you keep on bullying him as hr is done with your shit.

@starlightshadowsworld You are getting Jaden Yuki because you and I both love this boy to death.

@stardust-maiden I know she won't see this, but still. I am giving her Ichigo Kurosaki because this man would see her and instantly think of her as his little sister. He pretty much adopts girls as his Younger sisters and hr would kill people to Save them.

@sabellabella I am giving you Soulburner because if you love Jaden, then I know you will love this himbo.

@kingboohoo37 I feel like you would vibe with Shigeo Kagayama from Mob Psycho, don't know why tho.

@the-geek-librarian You would vibe with Gojo, I can just tell. You two would cause chaos everywhere.

@blue-rose-penguin-prince You are getting... Hmm... Mirio from My Hero. You are vibing with him

And I think everyone knows who I am assinging myself. Sasuke

[dhr-ao3]

Loyalty Dressed In Green

Loyalty Dressed In Green https://ift.tt/9qz0TVU by Asfarasthesky this work is inspired by a TikTok posted by DeyDralinne: Molly Weasley learned of the soul bond between Hermione and Draco in the DOM in 5th year when Lucius ordered no one touch Hermione Granger. Molly feels justified in her dislike of the girl. In 6th year Ginny turns nasty, all on Molly’s orders turning everyone against Hermione ( who still has no idea about the bond ) she spreads such awful rumors that one student goes so far to push Hermione out a window. It takes weeks to recover, a miracle, she survived. Harry feels so bad he rekindles their friendship. Molly is the reason Hermione nearly dies while on the run, specifically packing poison into Hermione’s belongings. When Hermione appears in Malfoy Manor drawing room, Narcissa learns the truth. She vows revenge for the emotional heartache they caused their son who is deeply in love. She has Ginny brought from school. She hires someone to grab Molly as well. this is very losly based on the prompt but credit is due :) Words: 1285, Chapters: 2/2, Language: English Fandoms: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: F/M Characters: Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy, Neville Longbottom, Pansy Parkinson, Theodore Nott, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Severus Snape, Harry Potter, Molly Weasley, Ginny Weasley Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger & Neville Longbottom, Hermione Granger & Pansy Parkinson Additional Tags: Soul Bond, Half-Blood Hermione Granger, Molly Weasley Bashing, Black Hermione Granger, Blood Adoption (Harry Potter), Sirius Black Lives, Harry Potter Redemption, resorted houses (harry potter), Not Canon Compliant, Mentor Severus Snape, theodore nott is the best friend, Starts in 5th year, Seer Luna Lovegood, Luna Lovegood Supremacy, Pansy Parkinson is a Good Friend, Hermione Granger & Pansy Parkinson Friendship via AO3 works tagged 'Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy' https://ift.tt/3aLFZhr June 26, 2024 at 09:32PM

[courseyoulovemeyoudontknowme]

How the Grinch Stole Christmas (2000, Ron Howard)

03/12/2023

How The Grinch Stole Christmas is a 2000 film directed by Ron Howard. The film is based on Dr. Seuss' book of the same name and stars Jim Carrey as the Grinch, with Jeffrey Tambor, Christine Baranski, Molly Shannon, Bill Irwin and Taylor Momsen in supporting role.

It is the second adaptation of the book after the television special How the Grinch Stole Christmas! and the first Dr. Seuss film to be made into a feature film.

Produced by Imagine Entertainment, it was distributed by Universal Pictures in the United States on November 17, 2000, while in Italy it was released on December 7 of the same year. It was originally the second highest-grossing Christmas film of all time behind Home Alone (1990) until both films were surpassed in 2018 by the third film adaptation of the story. It won the Oscar for Best Makeup, as well as receiving nominations for Best Production Design and Best Costume Design. The film is dedicated to the actress Jean Speegle Howard, mother of Ron Howard, born on January 31, 1927 and died on September 2, 2000, shortly before the theatrical release.

In a snowflake the town of Whoville is discovered, inhabited by the Whos; they all really like Christmas, which is considered the most important holiday of the year. The only creature that hates Christmas is the Grinch, a green and hairy misanthrope who lives in a cave on nearby Mount Crumpit together with his dog Max, feared by all the Whos due to his mean spirit.

On a past Christmas, the little Grinch made a Christmas angel out of metal scraps and jewels as a gift for Martha, but, due to a clumsy attempt at shaving, he showed up at school with a scarred face, being mocked by Augustus and the other classmates for this, expect Martha, causing him to lose patience, declare his hatred for Christmas and flee to Mount Crumpit, where he has lived in solitude ever since.

The Grinch goes to Whoville for the celebrations and is well received by the Whos, participates in various events and starts having fun until Augustus gives him an electric razor, reminding him of the humiliation of his childhood, and hurts him even more when he publicly declares to Martha, giving her a flashy engagement ring and a new car. He then decides to take revenge by shaving the mayor, destroying the Christmas tree in the square and wreaking havoc in the city. However, he discovers that his revenge didn't work after the townspeople take a spare tree and return to celebrate, and he angrily retreats home, while Cindy is left dejected by what happened.

When Christmas night arrives, the Grinch vows to crush the Whos' Christmas spirit and, after receiving an inspiration from Max, decides to steal all their gifts, decorations and food while they sleep: he then dresses up as Santa Claus, then builds a motorized sleigh and goes to Whoville together with the dog Max disguised as a reindeer after the gift tour of the real Santa Claus.

Later, the redeemed Grinch joins the Whos party and invites them to a Christmas lunch in his cave.

[elixirfromthestars]

MOLLIE I AM DECEASED!!! MY BREATH WAS ABSOLUTELY STOLEN ALONG WITH MY HEART!!! AND ITS ALL BECAUSE OF YOU!!!! 🚑🚨❤️🚑🚨❤️🚑🚨❤️

By far not your best work??? EXCUSE ME ☝️🤨 but I strongly disagree because this was JAW DROPPING GOOD 🥵❤️❤️ (and panty dropping as well 🫣🤭💗)

(I apologize in advance if any of my comments make no sense lol I’m under heavy medication because of my wisdom teeth surgery so…. 🤪)

Where do I start? Where do I start? When I read the summary and the warnings I knew I was in for the ride of my life 😮‍💨🪭

Please let me at Dr.Parker 😡 treating Bucky like that and making him cry???? 😡😡 the audacity that man has like he needs to be HUMBLED

And I am so here for Bucky’s revenge 🤭💗💗💗

The way Honey 🍯 and Bucky teeter and go back and forth for awhile was *chefs kiss* 🥰 She’s so much stronger than me because if he called me his favorite girl, told me in that voice he wasn’t into college girls, and then squeezed my hip?!?!?!?! 🥵❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥 I would’ve folded, screw the wedding band 🙅🏻‍♀️💍

These interactions were just considered harmless flirting to you. Bucky knew you had no idea that he went home and fucked his fist, replaying these exact moments in his head. He licked his lips with a groan. "I bet she is."

^ I— 🫠💗💓💗💓 I need a moment 🥵🪭

"Honey." Bucky held your hand, rubbing his thumb over your skin. "Just tell me what to do and I'll help you. I'm all yours."

^ Do you know how much I love a man that’s like I know you can do it, but I want to do it for you???? 🥹💕💕💕 So Bucky offering to help in ways like getting the food from the oven was the sweetest to me 🥺❤️❤️

Treating his son like that 😡 oh Dr.Parker if I had been your wife OOF 😡😡 He’s such an asshole 😤

Oh, I was on the edge of my seat when I realized Bucky and Honey would finally be left alone 🤭❤️❤️ *giggling and kicking me feet in anticipation* 💕

"I don't believe you." Bucky backed you against the sink, trapping you with his arms on each side of your waist. "I think," he rasped, teasingly trailing his fingers up the bare skin of your arms. "That you would let me bend you over this counter right here and fuck you senseless."

^ AHHHHHHHHH ITS HAPPENING!!!! 🚨❤️🚨❤️🚨❤️

Okay, the way he calls Honey pretty mama has me weak in the knees and the fact that he wants to be called James I just ahhh 🥰❤️❤️

The smirk that donned Bucky's face was lethal. He had you right where he wanted you. And yet his eye rolled back all the same, savouring the flutter of your tight hole around him. "This is all for you, baby," he breathily whispered, bullying his way deeper into your pussy. "Get me so fuckin' hard everytime I see you. Cookin' in them pretty little dresses. Just wanna lift your skirt up and fuck you wherever I want."

^ You want to end me, right? Kill me? Be the death of me? 🫠❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥 You are about to accomplish that because this is too hot and too much in the best way!!!!! ❣️❣️❣️❣️

"What's'a matter, baby?" Bucky mocked. "Thought you were a big girl, huh? Can't handle me?" Your reply was instant. "I can! I can, I promise, I promise!" "Then shut the fuck up and take it."

^ 🫣❣️❤️‍🔥 That’s it!! You did it!! I’m deceased!! My heart has officially stopped!!! I no longer have a pulse!!!! The way you wrote this Bucky with such a filthy mouth has ended me 🚑🚨❤️🚑🚨❤️🚑🚨❤️🚑🚨❤️

And the fact that he’s doing her so good she can’t speak OMG 🤭🫠🥵🥰 I’m a melted puddle on the ground at this point like this is so good I’m officially honey on the floor 🍯💛💛💛

Oh, so his revenge was to record oh my— 🤭💗💗 What I would have done to see Dr.Parker’s face when he saw it 😈

Thrust. "I've been such," thrust. "A good,” thrust. "Boy."

^ EXCUSE ME 😦❤️❤️❤️❤️ Oh, the things this simple sentence did to me 🥵❤️‍🔥

They say revenge is a dish best served cold. But I like mine warm, tight and sweet. Just like Honey.

^ What an absolutly perfect way to end it!! Omg!!! 🤭❤️❤️❤️ I bet Honey and Bucky have the best times now don’t they? 👀💗💗 Please tell me she divorced that asshole!! 🥺

I need like a week to recover from this omg Mollie I think you’ve awakened some things in me 🫣❣️❣️ This was written so well, the pace, the detail, the dialogue, the premise, omg everything about this was amazing!!! ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥 You have me absolutely crazy over here, Mollie!! I love your writing so much!!! 🍯💛💛 Thank you for being here and blessing us with your writing!! 🥺🫶🏼✨

^ Someone come resuscitate me please 🫠❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

Revenge Sweeter Than Honey

Pairing: College!Bucky Barnes x MILF!Reader

Word Count: 9.2k

Summary: When Bucky’s professor unfairly grades his college assignment, ruining his perfect GPA, he finds a way to get revenge — And doesn’t his sweet little wife look delicious?

Warnings: Bucky POV, revenge plot, age gap, older!reader, flirting, cheating, kissing, smut, mommy kink, nipple play, oral sex (fem receiving), ass play, spanking, p in v sex, recording of sex, cum play.

Author’s Note: Unbeta’d. Dividers by @saradika. Hi, lovelies! It’s been a while 🤍 This is by far not my best work, but I started it at the beginning of the year and finally finished it and decided to let it go before I convince myself not to post it.

Also, I have little to no knowledge about the education system outside of the UK, since I’m British. So please excuse any facts I may have gotten wrong, this was purely for the smut 😅

The arms of the leather chair Bucky was sitting on creaked, straining under the tense grip of his fingers. Fury coursed through every muscle of his body, boiling his blood until he was sure steam was blowing out of his ears. 

He had been sitting in his professor’s office for thirty whole minutes and not once had the man had the decency to look him in the eye and tell him a good enough reason for the C- marked on his most recent assignment. Thinking about it, he wasn’t even sure if his professor had ever made eye contact with him before; certain that he wouldn’t be able to recognise him if he ever looked at him. 

Bucky was a straight A student, working towards the perfect GPA to graduate with full honors and claim the job of his dreams. And yet, the second since his professor had licked his finger and slapped the stack of papers — stained with a ring of coffee that wasn’t there when he handed it in — on Bucky’s desk, his whole world had been turned upside down. 

He remembered his frenzy, the whirlwind of erratically flicking through each page and trying to find a single comment or suggestion that could help explain the low grade. But there was nothing. Only a forbidden red-inked C- that had taunted him ever since. 

Immediately, Bucky had booked an office session, since his professor was strict on the rules of when and where to discuss anything other than current class material. There must have been a mistake he reasoned with himself in the beginning — maybe a mix up with another student or maybe his professor had missed a chunk of his work because surely that godforsaken C- wasn’t right. 

However, Bucky soon came to realise in the thirty long minutes of his office session, that it wasn’t a mistake. In fact, it was the most generous grade received of the whole class. 

“Sir.” He attempted once again to get through to his professor. “With all due respect, I worked extremely hard on his assignment. Every variable is valid, I ran through each test multiple times to gain an accurate representation. My method has been executed perfectly.” He swallowed the dryness in his throat. “I can’t understand why I’ve been graded so low.” 

Dr Parker couldn’t have seemed less interested if he tried, the keys of his computer clicking away aimlessly as his brown eyes were glued to the screen. “For the last time, if you don’t understand what is wrong with your assignment, then I can’t help you.” 

Bucky discreetly gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut in frustration. The logic his professor spewed made absolutely no sense. He took a calming breath before he responded. “I’m not sure I can understand what exactly is wrong with my work if there’s no feedback to go off, Sir.”  

Dr Parker sighed, seemingly fed up with the conversation. “It's not for me to serve you on a silver platter. If you want a mentor who gives you a free ride or has to hold your hand through a grade then it seems like college isn’t the place for you, James.”

The material of the chair almost ripped where Bucky’s nails began to furiously dig in. He never wanted a hand to hold or a free ride during his time in college; the bare minimum he expected was to at least have some kind of evaluation or support that offered more than a lousy grade that wasn’t fair. 

Out of options, he desperately pleaded with his professor once again. “Sir, all I’m asking for is a reason for my grade being low. My GPA has been perfect all year and this assignment has made it take a huge hit. Please understand.”

Still, Dr Parker continued uselessly typing away without looking at him. “There’s nothing I can do for you, Mr Barnes.”

Bucky’s words came out jumbled as he jumped to offer an alternative. “What about— What if I did something for extra credit! You know? Just for— to boost my GPA back up?”

“That won’t be necessary.”  

Bucky was at the end of his tether and his throat began to tighten. “Please, Sir—I need—“ 

“What you need to do is move on from this assignment and work harder on the next one.” Dr Parker interrupted him coldly as he suddenly stood, packing his papers into his satchel. “My office hours are over and I have somewhere to be, so if you wouldn’t mind shutting the door behind you when you leave that would be great. Goodbye.” With that, his professor walked around the desk and out of the door without a second glance. 

Tears sprung to Bucky’s eyes while he sat there, staring mindlessly at the now empty chair behind the desk in front of him. He forced the lump building in his chest down, never having felt so defeated in his life. Throughout his years of education, he had sacrificed, placed everything that wasn’t important on the back burner; holidays, parties, normal friendships, just to put his future career first and for what? For one complete asshole to decide he didn’t care enough about his job or students to fuck him over? 

He shot out of his seat and paced over the carpeted floor. All of his dedication to his studies had been pointless — the thought burned through his mind and wounded him. All his life he had worked hard and this is how he had been repaid. The soles of his shoes thudded heavily until he came to a stop, running his hands down his face in despair. 

When Bucky opened his eyes, he blinked until his blurred vision became clear, finding himself in front of the floor to ceiling bookcase that panned over the length of the full wall. Sighing at a complete loss on what to do, his eye flitted over the polished ornaments in front of him.

As he trailed over the neatly placed trophies and certificates, a scoff left his mouth — bitter and venomous. Every one of the awarded achievements built his resentment even more. The pretentiousness was aggravating. 

He was about to walk away, go for a stroll with some fresh air to try and cool himself down and think properly. But just as he was going to leave, his eagle eye caught a small wooden picture frame shoved to the very back corner of the shelf, hardly noticeable with everything else taking front and center and ultimately hiding it. 

Bucky glanced over his shoulder, making sure his professor had really left before stepping forward. His nosiness had gotten the better of him and now his interest was peaked. Careful not to knock over any ornaments, he plucked out the frame and blew off the dust that had accumulated over the picture for god knows how long. 

To his surprise, it was a photograph of Dr Parker, many years younger and dressed in a tuxedo. Next to him, a stunning woman with the biggest smile on her face, dressed in an ivory, white dress. 

Bucky’s eyes flew wide open while his jaw unhinged in shock. 

Dr Parker had a wife?

Now that he thought about it, his professor did wear a gold band around his finger; one that the sun caught during a lecture one time and blinded Bucky enough to choke while he was drinking his coffee. 

Studying the photo some more, Bucky only focused on the woman, one with kind eyes, pretty lips and a body to kill for; silhouetted in a gown that complimented her figure amazingly. He was utterly blown away. 

The picture was at least ten years old, he summarised. His professor looked way younger than he did now, with frown lines and dark circles underneath his eyes. But he couldn’t get over how beautiful his wife was and how the hell he had managed to snag her with his douchebag personality. His mind ran a million miles per hour. 

For all Bucky knew, you could have been just like your husband; just as dull and just as unbearable. It was only rational, because no one in their right mind would willingly be with a man like that. 

He stared at you through the glass and tilted his head in thought, until the cogs started to turn. What if? he asked himself. What if he got his comeuppance somehow? 

As soon as the thought presented itself, he batted it away, shaking his head and placing the photo frame back in its place. 

But as he stood the frame upon the shelf, his hand stayed with it, unable to let go of the nagging idea that had now taken root in his mind. 

What if you were his perfect route for revenge? 

Looking out towards the window of the office, the setting sun beamed in. Bucky followed the streams of light that shined through, one landing on another photograph, larger in size of a chocolate haired boy with bright eyes. While he resembled Dr Parker, the boy’s eyes were all yours, kind and filled with light. The kid looked around the same age as himself, in a lab coat that had the same emblem as Bucky’s college. 

A plan began to quickly form in his mind, each piece and detail intricately connected together to create the most beautiful retribution. The biggest fuck you to his professor for screwing him over. 

Bucky sheathed his hands into his front pockets, running his tongue over his teeth with the most evil grin on his face. Dr Parker was going to get what he rightfully deserved. 

Vengeance.

Having met up after their last classes of the day, Bucky followed Peter into his home when he opened the door, the droolworthy aroma of a home cooked meal slinking into his senses and making his stomach grumble. 

It was now routine for him to come round to the Parker residence every week on a Friday afternoon. Once you found out your son had a new friend at college, you had extended the invitation to Bucky as Peter had recited. And of course, it would be rude of him to refuse. 

The execution of his plan had come together seamlessly, almost too perfectly. It was just his luck that a clumsy Peter Parker happened to bump into Bucky on campus in a rush to his next class, spilling his coffee onto the ground and offering to buy him a new one. 

Since then, he had made it his mission to become closer to Peter and soon enough, it was the night of his first dinner with you. 

Before that first meeting, he had drilled it into his head that his scheme of revenge was strictly business; to get in and out and call it a day. But that went down the drain when he rounded the corner to the kitchen to introduce himself and he choked on his words when you spun around on your heels. 

Bucky still remembered that moment, the first time he laid eyes on you in the cutest sundress, decorated with daisies that hugged your waist sinfully. The way your tits practically spilled out the damn thing stuck with him too. 

You were a vision, a sight for sore eyes — the photograph in his professor’s office did not do you justice even with ten years added on. Then, as soon as you bounced over to him and pulled him into a hug that made his dick hard, his initial intentions went out the window. He was a goner and he knew one time wouldn’t be enough of you.

However, when it came down to dinner, Bucky was admittedly nervous. It wasn’t only just meeting you in the flesh and having his expectations blown out of the water that threw him off balance, the inevitable of seeing his professor outside of college worried him. His plan for revenge could have fallen through as soon as he met him. They almost did. If that would have been the case, Bucky wasn’t sure what his next steps would be.  

But when he sat down at the dining table, his professor had only just noticed another guest in his home. Bucky remembered the slight sweat of his palms, the dryness of his throat as your husband looked at him over his newspaper and cocked his head; a familiarity brewing between them. Those couple of seconds lasted longer than he cared for. Then, unexpectedly, Dr Parker brushed him off and went straight back to reading his paper — evidently deeming Bucky unrecognisable and only a new friend of his son’s.  

That memory still offended him slightly. There wasn’t a hint of recognition, even though he had fucked Bucky’s chances of attaining his dream career. 

Snapping out of his memory, Bucky quickly shook his jacket off, taking care to hang it neatly on the coat rack and made a beeline to the kitchen. 

“Dude. I know you like my mom’s cooking but damn.” Peter shook his head with laughter but Bucky ignored him in favour of something of much higher importance. 

Stepping into the kitchen, he immediately found you balancing on your tiptoes, trying to reach the spice rack on the highest shelf. The skirt of your dress inched up your thighs and he couldn’t help but stare unabashedly at a sneak peak of your white g-string. 

Clearing his throat, Bucky held out his arms wide and acted casual with a wide smile. “Where’s my favourite girl?” 

His heart jumped as you snapped your head around, grinning wide once you saw who it was. “Bucky!” you cheerfully sang. “Hi, sweetie. I’m so happy you made it.” 

You have no idea how happy I am to see you too, he groaned internally. “What do you take me for? Like I would ever miss your cookin’, Mrs Parker,” he teased aloud. 

Raising an eyebrow playfully, you cocked your hip and crossed your arms over each other. “What have I told you about that, hm? Call me Honey, sweetheart. All my friends do.” 

Bucky held his arms up to placate you. “Forgive me. Your food is too damn good to pass up, Honey.” 

You rolled your eyes lightheartedly and turned back around to try and pluck the thyme from the top shelf. “You and that charm, boy. You’re gonna be the death of some poor college girl one day.” 

Noticing your struggle, Bucky took the opportunity to come up behind you and reach over your head. His lips perfectly aligned with your ear and so with a sly hand to your waist, he grabbed the jar of herbs and placed them onto the counter in front of you while he whispered, “What if I’m not into college girls?” 

Bucky heard the sharp inhale you tried so hard to smother, but it was useless with the proximity between you. It was instinct to then squeeze your hip, listening for your sweet whimper he lived to be the cause of. 

The moment lasted only a couple seconds longer until Peter called out for you from the hallway. “Hi, Mom. We’re home if you hadn’t already noticed.” 

Breaking away from Bucky sharply, you held a shaky hand to your chest. “H-Hey P, how was your week?” 

Small incidents as such repeated themselves every week. You and Bucky would find yourselves — or he would create them — in intimate, dangerous positions that wouldn’t be explainable to your son or your husband should they ever catch you. 

Which only made the game all the more exciting for him.

“Mom,” Peter whined while he walked into the kitchen. “Can you please not call me that when I have friends around?” 

Bucky held his laughter behind his hand when you passed your son by, pinching his cheek and putting on a baby voice. “Oh, but you’re just so cute!” 

However, that smile was soon wiped away from his face when the front door opened, immediately slamming shut with a loud bang. “I’m home, Honey,” your husband yelled. 

Your name on another man’s lips left a sour taste in Bucky’s mouth. He had come to learn that your nickname was born from your old college roommate who had affectionately bestowed it upon you after your love of baking dessert treats. 

The story was adorable, one he had soaked in with all the details you offered him. But your husband and his boring, monotonous tone turned even the sweetest name into something unpleasant. 

With his keen eye, Bucky had spotted the fake smile you plastered on your face to greet your husband, even when he walked straight past you without a hug or a kiss and into his usual chair at the dining table. 

“Glad your home safe, love,” you quickly offered him a half assed hello and headed back towards the kitchen to grab the meat out of the oven. 

“Hey.” Bucky shot forward before you could grab the handle and slid the oven mitts laying on the counter onto his hands. “I got this, don’t worry about it.” 

You paused to look at him like he had grown another head. “Bucky, I've done this a million times. I’m perfectly capable.” 

“I know you are, beautiful.” He didn’t miss the way your lips parted from his compliment, reserved for your moments alone. “Doesn’t mean you should have to. Lemme do it, please.” 

It didn’t take much for you to relent, already flustered enough to give in to him. Stepping aside, you made room for Bucky to take the dish out of the oven and place it on the worktop. 

“Smells fuckin’ delicious, Honey.” You gently swatted his arm for his colourful language, but he couldn’t help test the waters as he stared directly into your eyes. “Hopefully tastes as good as she looks.” 

What he didn’t expect was for you to retort back with a quick wit. “Oh, don’t worry about that. She’s as juicy as they get.” 

These interactions were just considered harmless flirting to you. Bucky knew you had no idea that he went home and fucked his fist, replaying these exact moments in his head. He licked his lips with a groan. “I bet she is.” 

“Where the hell is this damn food, woman? I’m eating away here!” your husband barked from the dining table. 

Bucky gritted his teeth while he watched you bow your head in embarrassment. “Just plating up now. It won’t be much longer, dear!” 

Turning back to Bucky, you smiled apologetically. “Sorry about that, he gets a little grumpy when he’s hungry.” 

He couldn’t believe you were apologising for that son of a bitch, though this was a regular occurrence by now; excusing your husband’s wrongdoings even if you were ashamed of it. 

Placing his hand over yours, Bucky told you firmly, “Don’t think for one second that you have to apologise to me, Honey.” The next words he grumbled under his breath. “Especially never on behalf of that fucker.”

Your free hand smoothed over the skirt of your dress, a nervous habit of yours when you were upset. 

Bucky recognised your unease and took initiative to derail the conversation. “What do you need me to take?” he asked while rolling the sleeves of his shirt up. 

You looked at him then, quick to protest and shake your head. “No, sweetheart. You’ve done enough, honestly. Go sit down and—”

“Honey.” Bucky held your hand, rubbing his thumb over your skin. “Just tell me what to do and I’ll help you. I’m all yours.”

Sighing defeatedly, you nodded your head to the foil covered dishes on top of the counter. “The vegetables and mashed potatoes could do with taking to the table.” 

Bucky grinned wide, all teeth and brought your hand up to place a kiss to the back of it. “Good girl.” 

A shudder ran down your spine that he didn’t miss, the hitch of your breath that blew the front strands of his hair giving you away. With a wink, he backed away to grab the dishes, piling them in his arms, along with a couple extra to take to the dining table. 

Soon enough, a full roast dinner was set out, steaming hot and ready to be eaten. 

Peter was already sitting on the chair by his Dad’s side, speaking animatedly about his recent discoveries on his science assignment for class. You always sat opposite your husband, which meant the only free seat that Bucky could take was opposite Peter and next to you. 

Not that he was complaining. 

He steadily pulled the chair out and sat down. It wasn’t exactly a coincidence that he brushed against you, not when he shuffled his chair as close as possible to you without raising suspicion. “Everything looks incredible,” he whispered as he leaned into you. 

The grip you had on your cutlery faltered. Bucky reveled in your bashfulness, always competing with himself to see how much he could make you squirm. So he smirked when you gulped, peeking at him from the corner of your eye. “T-Thank you, Bucky.” 

Your son‘s voice brought you out of your flustered state “—So I was right, Dad! My results actually confirmed my hypothesis.”

You cleared your throat and chimed in cheerfully when your husband only answered with an uninterested hum. “That’s amazing news, P!” With a stern tone, you addressed your husband this time. “Aren’t you proud of him, love?”  

But instead of congratulating him, your husband turned the page of his newspaper while shoveling food into his mouth. “Mhm. He did good, I guess.”

Luckily, Peter didn’t notice or bat an eye to his father. Bucky had witnessed over the few weeks he had been invited over for dinner that your son had enough support from you alone to keep his spirits uplifted. 

You decided not to bite and move on with the conversation, mouth open about to speak when your husband suddenly laid his newspaper down and spoke over you. “You know, I’ve had the worst week at work.” 

Frustrated, your fingers clenched tightly around your knife. “Oh yeah?”

Dr Parker blew out an irritating sigh. “The students this week—god—I had a flock of them at my door, complaining about their grades being too low.” 

Bucky felt the blood in his veins begin to boil. Normally he would tune out the grating voice of your husband, but he couldn’t help but listen to something that directly involved him — unknowingly to his professor. 

“I mean, I can’t help that their work isn’t up to par. What do they want me to do? Mollycoddle them?” he scoffed. “If they come crying to me for help all the time then they may as well cut their losses and drop out. They’re only wasting their own money.” 

The loud clink of your cutlery dropping against the plate cut through the tense atmosphere. “Are you serious right now?” 

“Dad,” Peter cringed, obviously uncomfortable. “You can’t say that.” 

“I’m not saying anything that’s not true.” Dr Parker shrugged. 

“It is your job to guide your students—who are paying thousands for their education by the way—and give them feedback to help them improve,” you shot back, heatedly.

Bucky’s chest puffed out in pride. Though he couldn’t outwardly say anything, he was proud of you for inadvertently defending him — even if you didn’t know it. 

Your husband’s tone turned biting towards you, however. “I’m not their babysitter, Honey.” 

But you stood your ground. “No you’re not. You’re their teacher and they look to you for guidance. It's the bare minimum your job requires.” 

A weighted silence fell over the dinner table while you and your husband glared at each other until the chime of a text cut through the awkwardness. 

Dr Parker retrieved his phone from his pocket and read his message. After a couple of seconds, he wiped his mouth with a napkin and threw it onto  his plate. “I’ve got to go back into the office. Emergency.”  

“What?” you asked in disbelief. “But you’ve only just come home.” 

“Well, unlike some, I can’t just slack off at home all day.” 

Bucky watched out of the corner of his eye as your mouth dropped open in shock at your husband’s barely hidden jab. Unrestrained anger filled his veins as he had to hold back. Though the urge to fly over the table at Dr Parker was hanging on by a thread. 

Is this what life was like at home for you? A husband who so obviously didn’t care for you while you made his life as comfortable as possible. And Peter, a son who held his tongue while he stiffly carried on eating his dinner and not defending his own mother?

Bucky looked to you as you quickly regathered yourself, blinking away the tears building over your waterline and pretending like you weren’t hurt. 

Your husband passed over his harmful statement as nonchalantly as he said it while lifting out of his seat. “Don’t wait up for me, I’ll be home late.” 

And just as rudely as he came home, he walked out, the slam of the door reverberating through the house. 

It wasn’t a minute after that when Peter also received a text. After reading the message, his eyes lit up with excitement. Bucky knew well enough what that face meant — Peter was getting lucky. “Hey mom, is it okay if I go out? Hang with my friends for the night?” 

The dinner you laboured over had already gone out the window once your husband had ruined it. Of course it didn’t bother you as much that your son wanted to leave too. “Of course, sweetie.” You stood up and collected the half empty plates from the table robotically. “Just be careful and let me know when you’re there.” 

With a dejected sigh that only Bucky noticed, you gathered the rest of the cutlery and took them to the kitchen, beginning to fill the sink to wash up. 

Peter waited until you were out of ear shot to whisper, “Dude, MJ asked me to come round tonight. I think she finally wants it!” Bucky held back a cringe. “You think it’s cool if I shoot off? You can make your own way home, right?” 

Bucky couldn’t have given a single fuck where Peter went or what he did right now. All he cared about, as he shot discreet glances of you in the kitchen washing the plates, was your wellbeing. “Sure, Parker. I can figure it out.” 

“Awesome!” Peter laughed before whipping out of his seat and running towards the door. “Catch you Monday, pal!” 

The house grew silent apart from the departing slam of the door, this time by your son. As soon as Peter was gone, Bucky instantly left his seat to join you. 

He leaned his shoulder against the archway of the kitchen. “You okay, Honey?” 

Looking towards him in surprise, your eyes held onto a last tendril of hope that someone hadn’t let you be alone. “Sweetheart, I thought you would have left with P.” 

Bucky shook his head with a fond smile, the curls at the top of his head bouncing with the movement. “Of course not. I’ve got nothing better to do with my Friday night than spend time with a gorgeous woman.” 

He caught the tightening of your lips, as though you were holding back your flustered smile. “Oh, stop that. You flatter me.” 

“I can’t help it. You make a man go weak. What can I say?” 

“Are you flirting with me?” you laughed incredulously. 

“And what if I was?” Bucky noticed the way your eyes latched onto the sight of his shirt, tightening over his arms as he crossed them over each other. “Would you like it?” 

Your eyes flicked up to his, holding his intense gaze for a few seconds before you huffed a breath and began cleaning the dishes again. “You’re cute, Bucky.” 

Bucky licked his lips and ravaged your form silhouetted in your fitted dress. “Wouldn’t exactly be the word I would use, but I’ll take it from you.” 

A rare giggle, only let out in his presence, escaped you. “Scram would you? You don’t want to be spending your Friday night with your friend’s mom, sweetie.” 

Testing the waters, Bucky let slip exactly what was on his mind. “Actually, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”  

Your hand stilled, chest rising and falling at a faster pace than before. “Oh, if only I was twenty years younger,” you chuckled quietly to yourself, not expecting for Bucky to overhear. 

Jackpot, he smirked to himself. 

Walking to the kitchen island, Bucky leaned his elbow on the counter beside you. “What would you do, Mrs Parker?” 

You jumped with a yelp, visibly surprised to have received a response so close; eyes blown wide as they flitted over Bucky’s face in panic. “E-Excuse me?” 

Bucky closed the distance between you even further. He leaned over the sink to turn the running water off. “I said,” he whispered huskily, keeping consistent eye contact with you. “What would you do if you were twenty years younger?”

“I—I um,” your breathing started to become heavy while Bucky stared shamelessly at you. “It’s just an expression, sweetie,” you laughed, shaking your head to try and brush the comment off. “I d-didn’t mean it like that—“ 

“No?” He watched carefully as your eyes darted around, trying so hard not to look at him. “How did you mean it then?” 

The spotlight Bucky was intentionally putting on you made you falter, even more so when he tucked your hair behind your ear and let his hand linger over your collarbone. 

“C’mon, tell me. I don’t bite.” A sadistic smirk adorned his face while you stared at his lips. “Unless you want me to, of course.” 

“I s-swear, Bucky.” Your voice was breathless with the heat of his stare. “There was nothing behind it, I—”

“I don’t believe you.” Bucky backed you against the sink, trapping you with his arms on each side of your waist. “I think,” he rasped, teasingly trailing his fingers up the bare skin of your arms. “That you would let me bend you over this counter right here and fuck you senseless.” 

The wind was audibly knocked from your lungs as you gasped. Words failed you, stuttering over yourself which was most amusing to Bucky.

Nonetheless, your eyes still followed him with a glaze, hooked onto every word that left his lips. “I think you’d let me take you from behind. Stuff your pretty pussy full with my fat cock.” He grabbed your hand and pressed it against the bulge in his trousers. “You feel that, huh? How good it would feel to take all a’me, pretty mama?” 

Bucky watched as your eyes fluttered and you bit your lip — the last of your reserve hanging by a thread. One more deadly blow to your empty head and you would be putty in his hands.

Any remaining distance between you disappeared as he placed wet kisses from the pulse of your neck up to the corner of your mouth. “I think—” he whispered against your lips, his next words uttered in his most seductive voice. “I think you’d let me do it. Right. Fuckin’. Now.” 

You placed your hands over the shirt on his chest to push him away; a mistake he imagined as you alternatively began bundling the material up with clenched fists. “Bucky—“ you painfully uttered with your eyes squeezed shut. You shook your head, as though that would help you. “This—this isn’t right. You’re my son’s friend and I n-need you to leave—“ 

“Look at me.” Bucky slid his hands over your neck, holding your jaw with his thumbs to tilt your head up. Slowly, your eyes squinted open and he saw the confliction clear as day in your glossy eyes, the battle you were facing in your mind. “You’re practically melting in my hands, Honey. You just gotta give in. We’ve been playin’ this game for far too long now, don’t you think?”

There was no escaping his blue eyes when you tried to look away once again and he firmly guided your gaze back to him. “None of that, now. Do as I say.” 

Your expression was tortured — torn between right and wrong, pleasure and sin. Bucky knew you were good, a dutiful housewife and loyal to a fault to a man who didn’t deserve it. 

Where had that gotten you? Whilst the revenge plan was hot on his mind — the very reason he had meticulously planned everything up to this exact moment — he wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth that he was getting something extra out of this. You.

“We shouldn’t do this,” you pleaded painfully, still with a wild spark in your eye. “We can’t do this.” 

“You know what I’m not hearing, Honey?” Bucky asked. “I’m not hearing that you don’t want to do it.” 

You shook your head frantically with wide eyes until he tightened his grip on your cheeks. “I’m gonna give you one chance to answer me.” He squeezed your cheeks until your lips puckered. “You want me to fuck you, baby?”

Desire rolled through your eyes as your thighs clenched together. Though you still tried to deny your need for him. “Bucky—”

“Ah, ah. I want an answer.” 

Bucky watched as your throat bobbed. Your nostrils flared with your harsh breaths and your breasts heaved up and down with exerted force. Seconds went by, the two of you staring at each other before you finally answered. “Yes.” 

The two of you burst into the master bedroom — the one you shared with your husband, kissing erratically while your hands fumbled through Bucky’s hair. 

He moaned deeply, pushing you against the wall, and turning feral over the feel of you as he kneaded your body. “You’re so fuckin’ hot,” he hummed against your lips. 

Your head thumped back against the wall, chest heaving while you tried to catch your breath. All of Bucky’s attention was drawn to your chest. “Has anyone ever told you you’ve got the most perfect tits?” 

Choking on your spit, you stumbled over your words, so adorably oblivious to your own attraction. “I—I didn’t realise—um, t—thank you—”

Bucky laughed, shaking his head before quickly ripping down your dress to your waist with force. Your upper body was bare, free for him to roam his rabid eyes over your naked tits.

“Bucky!” Your squeal of shock was followed by you hastily trying to cover your chest with your hands. 

But a scowling Bucky immediately ripped them away; offended you would dare try to keep them from him. “Don’t you dare fuckin’ cover yourself up, Honey.” 

He could tell it was intense for you, to be so thoroughly desired and the thought that you had never received this much attention before made him angry once again. 

“It’s been a while,” you mumbled. The mousy confession only heightened Bucky’s fury towards your pathetic husband.

Delicately, he kissed you and began to trail his lips down the slope of your neck. “Ain’t gotta worry about that. I’ll take care of you.” 

Slowly descending, Bucky laved his tongue over your peaked nipple, sucking it into his mouth and letting it go with a pop. Your breast bounced with the motion and he squeezed his dick over his trousers with a groan. “Look at you, Honey. You’re a fuckin’ goddess.” 

Bucky’s tunnel vision made whatever you said next pointless. Grabbing your tits, he buried his head in between them, relishing in your softness. He peppered his kisses across to your other nipple and swirled his tongue around the peak. 

Your legs crumbled, the sensation overwhelming for you. The thought that Bucky could get you off by just playing with your tits made his cock even harder. But he had so much more in store for you.

“Why don’t you take off your dress, baby?” he murmured into your skin. “Want you to kneel on the bed for me, alright?” 

You nodded shakily. Bucky hovered over your breasts a couple of seconds more, savouring the feel of you before stepping backwards to give you space to move. 

With a deep breath, you walked on unsteady legs towards your bed, letting your dress shimmy down your body on your way. Your back was turned to Bucky and he salaciously eyed your figure, each and every curve of your body. He internally created a map of your stretch marks and imperfections that only made him more crazed for you. 

The mattress sank down while you knelt onto it carefully. Bucky watched the arch of your back intently, the flesh of your ass rounding out from your position. 

Forget the damn reason he plotted this very moment, he was just excited to finally get a taste of you. 

Your quiet murmur sounded over Bucky’s thoughts. “I’m ready.” 

Biting his lip, he strolled forward until he came to a stop behind you. Still fully clothed, Bucky desperately singed the picture in front of him into his mind. He held so much power in that moment, and it felt like a dream that he had you bent over solely for him. 

Bucky leaned over your form, beginning to place delicate kisses down your back. He basked in the goosebumps that arose on your skin. “How the fuck are you real?” he murmured to himself. 

With a shaky sigh, you whispered, “I still don’t know about this.” 

Chuckling, Bucky finally dropped down to his knees, ignoring your reluctance to eye the flimsy piece of material covering your pussy. Hooking a finger inside your underwear, he peeled it away and held it to the side. “Oh, fuck me.” 

You squirmed in place as the cold air hit you in your most vulnerable state. Your raw scent clogged Bucky’s nose and his eyes rolled to the back of his head in bliss. “Can’t fuckin’ wait any longer, Honey. Gotta know how you taste.” 

Surging forward, Bucky buried himself between your thighs. You screamed in retaliation to the feel of his tongue snaking its way through your folds and he was sure he hadn’t heard a better sound. 

He explored every inch of your cunt, unwilling to leave the heaven you so graciously granted him. But it was the sensation of Bucky’s tongue beginning to ease its way inside your hole that made you vocal once again. 

“My husband—“ you called out, obvious to Bucky  that you were trying to clear your conscience of guilt. But he knew you couldn’t care less about him — you didn’t even mention the fucker once while you were too busy feeling sorry for your son in the kitchen and making silly excuses to not let him have his way with you. 

Landing a harsh smack to the top of your thigh, Bucky savored your squeal of shock. “Don’t act like you give a fuck about him now, Honey. Who’s the one eating your pussy this good, hm?” He ran two fingers down the middle of your folds, biting his lip at the wetness coating them. When your only answer was a moan muffled by your pillow, he spanked you again in the same place with more force. “Answer me.”

“You, Bucky!” you instantly shouted out. “You’re the one eating my pussy so good!” 

“There we go. That wasn’t so hard was it?” He eased over the marks beginning to bloom on your skin and smiled to himself. “Call me James, though. I like it better.” 

Without letting you reply, Bucky dived back in, fucking your pussy with his tongue. You reached back to hold your asscheeks open with each hand, desperate to have him go deeper into your hole. The glint from the diamond of your wedding ring caught his attention and he smirked into your cunt; the reminder that you were married only fuelled his arousal even more. 

“Fuck, baby,” he spoke into your cunt. “You really are sweet, ain’t ya? Taste fuckin’ incredible.” 

The filthy sounds of slurps and moans filled the room. Bucky was a starved beast, held back and pushed to the edge for too long and every little bit of anger and resentment that had built in his body from your husband’s treatment was taken out on you. 

It only boosted his ego when you grinded your cunt back against him too. His cock jumped with excitement with how fucking dirty you truly were. You had been locked up too, he remembered. Stuck holding back your true self for a shitty excuse of a man. 

Bucky grunted deeply before licking a wide stripe from your clit, slowly running through your pussy lips and reaching higher towards the puckered hole that twitched with anticipation. 

“Oh!” you exclaimed aloud in surprise. Bucky thought he may have gone too far, then. But once you relaxed and backed yourself into his tongue, he smiled wickedly. 

“You like that, filthy girl?” he laughed, darkly. “Should’ve known you’d be a little freak.” 

Bucky circled the tip of his tongue teasingly around your asshole, moaning at your eagerness when you tried to reach further back with your hands and drag him closer. 

“Don’t tease,” you gasped, out of breath. “Please, I want more. Gimmie more.” 

Almost immediately, Bucky complied, ripping your hands away with vigor to replace them with his. He spreaded your asscheeks wide and lapped at your tight hole. 

“Fuck yes—oh my god, James—yes!” 

The depravity was obscene and disgusting and Bucky absolutely loved it. Never had he been more turned on and he decided then and there that this wasn’t going to be a one and done deal. He wanted you to be his. 

A string of saliva connected Bucky’s mouth to your ass as he reluctantly backed away. The slick that had poured out of you smothered his chin and cheeks and Bucky happily licked his lips with a groan. “Baby, as much as I wanna keep eating your ass, I need to feel your pretty little cunt wrapped around my cock.” 

You whimpered while your pussy clenched with a need to be filled. Bucky watched your cute little hole flutter. “Put it in me,” you slurred. “Need your cock.” 

He wasted no time unfastening his jeans to pull them down enough until his dick bobbed out of its confines. Bucky caught you peeking your head around, trying to catch a glimpse of his cock, but he spanked your ass and bit his lip with amusement at your scream. “Not yet, baby. You’ll get a chance to see it when I fuck your throat later.” 

You squirmed impatiently, needy moans escaping you and Bucky couldn’t hold back any longer. Grabbing his cock, he began to push the fat head of his length inside you. 

A loud gasp tore from your throat and your pussy instantly tried to suck him in deeper. Your walls, tight and warm, hugged his dick like a vice. “You’re—oh my fucking god—how are you so big?” 

The smirk that donned Bucky’s face was lethal. He had you right where he wanted you. And yet his eye rolled back all the same, savouring the flutter of your tight hole around him. 

“This is all for you, baby,” he breathily whispered, bullying his way deeper into your pussy. “Get me so fuckin’ hard everytime I see you. Cookin’ in them pretty little dresses. Just wanna lift your skirt up and fuck you wherever I want.” 

Your moans both fell into sync as Bucky finally slid his cock all the way to the hilt. You couldn’t stop squirming and it drove him crazy. 

“You need to move,” you begged in between pants. “Please, I can’t stay still.” 

Bucky licked his teeth with desire blazing through him. “Since you asked so nicely, Honey.” 

Without the decency to ease you into it, Bucky instantly set a brutal pace. He looked down, admiring the thick coating of your juices lathering his dick and he willed himself not to blow his load so fast. He tightly closed his eyes, adjusted his stance and began to fuck you. 

You were quick to grab ahold of whatever you could, scrambling for purchase within the sheets,  but you were useless to try to stop how your head buried into the bed. The force of Bucky’s thrusts were too violent and so you surrendered to what was inevitable, letting yourself drool over the cotton.

“Bu—CKY!” your cry of surprise when he lifted his foot onto the bed, allowing him a better angle to fuck you, was music to his ears. 

“What’s’a matter, baby?” Bucky mocked. “Thought you were a big girl, huh? Can’t handle me?” 

Your reply was instant. “I can! I can, I promise, I promise!” 

“Then shut the fuck up and take it.” 

Bucky didn’t know where to look, he was spoilt for choice. To watch your eyes roll back in ecstasy? To concentrate on the shlick shlick of your soaked cunt? Ultimately, his eyes were glued to the jiggle of your ass, his hands soon following as though he was hypnotised. How it so perfectly met his hips without a falt in rhythm.

“Fuck me—this ass is heaven, baby. You been hiding it from me all this time?” 

There was no answer this time, at least not a coherent one. Bucky was instead graced with your constant squeaks and groans — a woman too invested in a physical gratification she had so sadly been starved of. 

Bucky chuckled. “Ain’t gotta answer, Honey. The sounds comin’ outta that mouth are keeping my dick happy enough.” 

He almost forgot the end goal of his proposition in the midst of the delectable feel of your cunt. With a sudden bolt of clarification as he felt a vibration against his leg, Bucky kept one hand on your hip while he reached for his phone in his pocket with the other. Keeping up the pace of his thrusts, you were clueless as he unlocked it and opened the camera app. 

“Now, Honey, I want you to really scream my name, okay? Wanna hear how good I’m makin’ you feel. Can you do that for me?”

“Uh-huh.” You nodded, dumbly. “C-Can do that for you, James.” 

He grinned wickedly and threw his head back. “Just like that. Good fuckin’ girl.” Looking back down at you through the phone screen, he hovered his finger over the record button and brought his other hand down hard on your ass. “Go on then, baby. Put on a show for me.”

If Bucky thought you were a fucking treat before, his mind was blown once you began to take the reigns of your own pleasure. Bucky hardly had to move and you still plunged yourself onto his cock with an unmatched enthusiasm to anyone else he had fucked. He could hardly keep his hand that held the phone up from shaking. The combined sounds coming from the both of you were insane. 

None of his wet dreams could compare to his reality. “You—shit—you’re killing me, Honey.” 

You must not have heard him because you decided to torture him even more by arching your back just that little bit further. 

Bucky thought he was a goner, soon to approach his end. But he couldn’t let that happen. He was far from done with you yet. 

Propping one foot up onto the bed for better leverage, he gathered his restraint and began to drive forward once more. He felt high. 

“That husband of yours ever fuck you like this, huh?” Bucky demanded. “Can he make you leak all over his dick like a fuckin’ slut?”

You violently shook your head from side to side, like the thought of your husband left a sour taste in your mouth you wanted to get rid of. “Nuh-uh,” you whimpered, popping your ass up even more to take as much as you could. “O-Only you.” 

“Tell him, baby.” Bucky noticed too late that he had slipped up, too gone off the feel of your cunt wrapped snug around his dick. But you hadn’t seemed to realise his mistake either and the thought that you were too much of a wreck from his cock to comprehend who he was talking about made him even harder. “Let him know who’s balls deep in your tight, slutty pussy.” 

“Oh, fuck—please, please—you, James, it’s you.  Please, it’s you!” 

“Atta girl,” he cooed, hoarsely. “Look at the fuckin’ mess you’re makin’ on me.”

Bucky reached down to where the two of you were connected with his free hand, sweeping the copious amount of your slick gathered in a ring around the bottom of his cock. “Here.” He leant forward, one palm up towards you with his phone still in his other hand out of your view. “Open your mouth, pretty mama.” 

You slightly turned your head with your tongue sticking out wide and eagerly sucked the juices off his hand with a long moan. 

Managing to get all of it on camera, Bucky watched as you licked between his fingers, not wasting a drop. “Holy fuck,” he grunted deeply. “You’ll really do anything I say, won’t you?” 

You bobbed your head up and down, eventually letting his fingers go, clean as a whistle. 

“What a fuckin’ filthy whore. You’re perfect for me.” 

You backed yourself onto Bucky’s cock, meeting his thrusts perfectly while the meat of your ass clapped against his toned waist. “You’re a needy little thing, ain’t you baby?” 

“Anythin’ you want,” you slurred. “Can be whatever you need.” 

“Poor mommy hasn’t been treated this good in a long time I can tell.” Bucky gripped your ass harshly with his hand, jiggling the flesh for his own satisfaction. “Women like you, need putting in their place on a daily basis. Need a good fuckin’ to keep them happy.” 

“Yes!” you agreed, firmly. “Mommy needs to be fucked like this all the time.” 

Unbelievable. Bucky didn’t even have to try to add salt into the wound. He couldn’t help the continuous conspicuous messages that he could easily pass off to you. “This is what happens when you don’t take care of your wife.”

Harsh slaps echoed in your bedroom. The two of you could only share the raw sounds that left your mouths in your haze of the thrill as the string between you pulled tighter and tighter. 

“I’m—so—close,” you murmured with all your depleted energy. 

Bucky didn’t need the confirmation when he could feel the rapid pulses of your walls that squeezed him. He knew your orgasm was clutching at its straws and he was so close himself. The blood from his head had long since made its way to his dick and his composure was swiftly deflating. 

“Want that cum,” he garbled as his mouth hung open. “I’ve been such a good boy, mommy. Give it to me, please.”

You whined loudly, like a dog in heat. But your voices became lost on each other. That didn’t stop Bucky from losing his inhibitions out loud.  

Thrust. “I’ve been such,” thrust. “A good,” thrust. “Boy.” 

The wound up ball of tension in your lower stomach exploded in a series of screams and violent shivering that overtook your whole nervous system and the very sensation brought Bucky to his defeat. 

The muscles in his legs failed him as they turned to jelly. Bucky let out the sluttiest moan he’s ever experienced in his life and all but collapsed onto your sweat slicked body. He could feel his cock shooting a constant stream of cum into your cunt with seemingly no end in sight. 

“Fuck,” he whimpered into your ear. Slowly, his conscience came back to life and the flow of his load finally came to a stop. 

The two of you laid still, only the heavy panting serving to fill the silence. After a couple of minutes, Bucky kissed your shoulder blade, before lifting himself up. He gathered the strength to gently retrieve his length from your hole that still strangled him. 

Bucky was reminded of the phone that was still recording in his hand and he quickly made sure to get the winning money shot of his load dripping out of your pulsing hole while he wholly detached himself from you. 

He was only human to push his finger into your cunt, he thought, letting himself gather himself on his own fingers. 

Flipping the camera around to himself, Bucky put his coated finger in his mouth, sucking your combined juices and humming and letting it go with a pop. He laughed, out of breath, his red cheeks and mussed hair only adding to the depravity of the video. “Y’know some people should really keep an eye on their wives. You never know what they’re up to in their spare time. Ain’t that right, Honey?” 

Bucky knew you were out of it — he watched on while you buried your head in the sheets, rubbing your thighs together as aftershocks made your body twitch. Your needy, high pitched keens bounced off the walls. “Wan’ more of your cock, James—please—need you to fuck me again.” 

He licked his lips in delight, the sight of your ass wiggling with his cum leaking out of you and your unprompted addition to the recording filling him with glee. 

“Well,” he sighed, turning back to the camera and shrugging with no remorse. “You heard the wife. Duty calls.” With a cocky wink, he ended the recording with a final farewell. “See you in class, Professor.”  

Bucky exited his camera app and quickly brought up his emails, scouring through to a saved draft and attaching the video link. After pressing send, he shut off his phone, making sure any future notifications would be silenced before throwing it to the ground with a careless thump. 

“Baby,” you whimpered, looking behind you to search for him. “What are you doing? I said I wanna be fucked again.” 

Undressing the rest of his clothes, Bucky stalked towards you, kneeling onto the bed and effortlessly flipping you over to kiss you deeply to share your combined tastes. “Don’t worry, mommy,” he breathed into your mouth. “I’ll take care of you now.” 

Meanwhile at his college, a new email popped up on Dr Parker’s computer screen, shrouding the dark office with a white glow in the late night. With an exhausted huff, he looked up from grading papers — all of them marked with a C or lower — and squinted his eyes at the bright screen. 

New Email from James Buchanan Barnes

He rolled his eyes with a sigh. The name was familiar as he thought back to the day the kid almost cried in his office, complaining about his poorly-graded assignment and his GPA; Dr Parker had gossiped with Professor Stark in his department on his dinner break, recounting the annoying way this particular student had whined like a baby. Though he couldn’t quite remember how James looked, unable to place him among the hundreds of pupils he taught.

Amused curiosity ran through him, wondering what his student had to moan about this time and so with a sadistic smirk, he clicked on the link, waiting until his message came up. 

Though that smirk was quickly replaced with a frown when the email finally loaded with an attachment. 

They say revenge is a dish best served cold. But I like mine warm, tight and sweet.

Just like Honey. 

[blacknerdspeaks]

Book Review: Scream For Us by Molly Doyle

This is just my thoughts and opinions about this book

So this is just me geeking out and ranting about this book because I don't have anyone to talk about it with. I hope you all enjoy it! One day, I was cleaning my room and needed something to listen to. I didn't want to watch YouTube, so I decided to check my Amazon account for audiobooks. I remembered I always wanted to listen to this book because one of my favorite people in the world, Von Necros, was voicing one of the characters. Back to the point, I decided to listen to this book because it was short. As I was cleaning and listening to the story, it turned out to be one of the best experiences. I don't normally listen to audiobooks, but this one was so much fun. All the voice actors did a wonderful job, and the writing was great.

We are introduced to a woman named Quinn, who is in college and trying to push herself out of her comfort zone. She dresses up and goes to a Halloween party, where she finds herself saved by three masked men dressed as Ghostface, Michael Myers, and Jason. These men are immediately drawn to her. After getting involved with them, Quinn decides to be bold and tells the three men that this is only for one night. As the night goes on, Quinn starts to do things she's never done before, exploring fantasies and desires she always wanted to.

Now, I'm going to talk about my favorite part of this book. THERE WILL BE SPOILERS!

I can't remember the exact chapter, but I do remember that Quinn was horribly bullied by a group of people in her younger years because her father took his own life, which caused her a lot of trauma. Wanting to get revenge for her, Ghost, Michael, and Jason find all of these people at an amusement park horror attraction. They block all the exits and call out Derek's name, one of her tormentors. Ghost then proceeds to stab him, leaving him to choke on his blood. Ghost then kills the rest of the group one by one. As they prepare to set the place on fire, Quinn, worried, walks in looking for Ghost. When he sees her, he walks closer until Quinn is up against a wall. He's aroused by her, and they proceed to have sex like animals. She is begging for him, and he nicks her collarbone with a knife, causing her to moan more. With the attraction set on fire, the screams of people around them, and smoke pouring in, Ghost gives Quinn his mask so she can breathe and continues having sex with her. Let me repeat that: HE CONTINUES TO FUCK HER WHILE THE PLACE IS ON FIRE! LIKE OH MY FUCKING GOD THIS WAS SO FUCKING HOT After finishing, he carries her in his arms and runs out of there with her. They make it to the grass where Jason and Michael meet them. Ghost lightly smacks her face, Quinn wakes up, smiles, and jokes that she feels safe with him. God, I love this chapter.

The reason I love this chapter is that it becomes a turning point for the characters. Quinn gets to live the life she wants without letting those people from her past ruin anything for her. She has people in her life who would do anything to make sure she is safe and who bring out a side of her that was always there but she never let out. The love and obsession in this chapter are top tier. I love everything about this chapter so much.

This concludes my book review, or more likely me yapping about one of my favorite books. If you want to read it, go to Amazon and look up "Scream For Us." It's a short book with only 10 chapters, and it's a fun, wonderful ride of dark romance, self-worth, obsession, and really, really hot dudes in masks. Seriously, this book will feed your mask kink if you have one.