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superbfics · 7 months ago

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And Steve couldn’t stop touching you. That was new.

The drive to Utah was all open roads and vast blue skies, clouds giving way to stars at night, a hand on your thigh, a thumb pressed to the sensitive skin on the inside of your leg. It was a ‘will we, won’t we,’ a car that was thick with heat and tension and a new kind of wanting.

WEEE

Other times, when it all got too much and you’d been driving for too long, road signs and maps stealing all of the attention, Steve would stop you in the headlights, one hand on your waist, the other in your hair to hold you to him and he kissed you like he wanted to make you remember him.

It was hard to get back into the car and drive after those kinds of kisses. ‘Cause you’d both be breathless and a little lost after them, directions making no sense because all you could taste and think and feel was each other.

WEEEEE

“And leave you all alone?” His gaze on you was heated, a soft burn that made your lips part and your breath hitch. “As if. Someone might steal you.”

The ‘from me’ was silent, but you heard it in his voice, sticky with a little possessiveness, new and exciting. You saw it in his eyes, pupils blown wide at the mere sight of your bare legs, gaze following the line your tongue traced along your bottom lip.

“What a damn shame that would be,” you whispered, playing along because suddenly you’d do anything to keep Steve where he was, looking at you like that. Like you were his. “How would you survive?”

He leaned in, delicate in his movements, like he was worried he’d scare you, the both of you still learning how to touch and give the other the affection you desperately wanted to give. Steve’s nose nudged your cheek, lips at your jawline, a soft push of his lips on the skin.

One kiss, two kiss, three.

“Wouldn’t,” he sighed into you, warm breath making your hair lift at your neck. He sounded dramatic, all faux despair as he mumbled, “you’re the only one who knows how to read the map.”

WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

That wasn’t you thing, that wasn’t your kind of world, and really, it wasn’t Steve’s either, but he knew how to pretend. How to fake it, how to smile and nod and charm his way through the conversation.’ Cause he’d once been the king of his own kingdom and you suddenly didn’t know which one was the real Steve.

so not wee, Emmy, oh my god. I did not think this was how the chapter was gonna go.

You weren’t sure you could handle another person leaving you. It’s why you left first and maybe, just maybe, the numb burn of alcohol helped make it a little bit easier. But as you walked to the bus station, the flickering glow of its sign pointing you to the ticket office, you could already feel the hangover and it tasted like cheap vodka and regret.

SO. NOT. WEE.

We Tried The World CH5.

THE MASTERLIST MOAB, UTAH. 1518 MILES FROM HOME.

There were a few differences between Colorado and Utah. Some were slight, barely noticeable as you crossed state lines and kept travelling through rocky landscapes. The cliffs and canyons tended to be more orange, a vibrant colour that turned to fire in the sun, the same shade of dust washing over the roads.

Blue skies stayed, huge, white clouds breaking the horizon to greet you in the morning, a new state rolling in with a new day. It was just as warm, just as bright, just as alien looking as Colorado was to Hawkins, but the cliffs broke into arches and tall pillars, like turrets growing from the dirt.

And Steve couldn’t stop touching you. That was new.

It made you ache, the way he looked at you. Brown eyes honey in the sun, over the rim of his sunglasses, through stands of windswept air. It was even just lust, Steve looked at you like he knew all your secrets now, like this was it, it was just you and him and the car and wherever you’d end up next.

It made you dizzy, his touch, the way he held your hand when the roads grew long and never ending, how he brought your palm to his lips to press a kiss there, as warm as the summer, as sweet as the peach trees that lined the fences of farms.

It became a problem when you had to bite your tongue and try not to ask him to pull over several times during the drive. And when you, the BMW tinted with rust coloured dust, sitting at the side of the road so you could swap seats, Steve caught you by the waist when you passed in front of the car.

Sometimes it was a succession of sweet kisses, pressed to lips through smiles and laughter, clutching at each other in the afternoon sun, dizzy with it all, swaying together like everything was a dream. You could taste his happiness, brown sugar coffee and cherries from a roadside stall, sweetness and summer and Steve.

And how could you forget?

Those were the times he still tasted like rain water, like a Colorado storm, made you fizz and pop and crackle under his touch like thunder, his kisses growing insistent and greedy, and you pulled at the front of his shirt and the mess of his hair like you couldn’t ever bare to let go.

It was a hand on your waist, the small of your back, as you both clambered over boulders and stood under orange arches, the rocks brighter than the sun, than Steve’s smile, than the feeling in your chest that made you feel like you were going to burst. The boy took photos of you against the landscape, arms outstretched, head tilted back, smile blinding as you stood there under formations older than the fucking dinosaurs.

You grinned at the camera, threw your arms out to the world like you owned it, and Jesus Christ, Steve Harrington made you feel like you did.

The drive to Moab was filled with gas station rest stops - two pumps, only one working - and Steve had taken to treating them like treasure troves, scanning the shelves for something quirky or weird, holding it aloft to make you scrunch up your features or laugh.

It was after three straight hours of driving that he found you a new sketchbook, coming out of the store with bottles of water and a ridiculous large bag of twizzlers, the brown backed book tucked under his arm.

He gave it to you like it was no big deal, shuffling about in the driver's seat as you stared at him with big eyes and parted lips. Your old book had travelled on the parcel shelf, drying out in the desert sun after you’d left it on the grass during the storm, deciding that kissing Steve was more important than saving it.

You were lucky that the photo of your grandparents house had been trapped between the back pages, only a little bit damp. The same couldn’t be said for the rest of your drawings, ink smudged and pages curling as they dried out. But Steve had taken note of how you’d looked at it forlornly, fingers brushing over washed out sketches of him, the places you’d been, the sights you’d committed to memory.

You gave him a kiss in return, an awfully sweet one right there in the middle of the gas pumps, reaching over the console to pull at his cheek until you could press your lips to his. You hoped he felt the same way he’s made you feel, an overwhelming sense of being cared for.

His cheeks turned pink and he turned bashful, shrugging away your thanks with his chin tucked to his chest as he pulled back onto the road and maybe, you thought, just maybe, he did.

Steve drove as you tore away the old drawings from the water warped book, carefully picking away the edges until you were left with paper you were sure you could press down flat again. You smoothed your hand over the new, blank pages, each one pristine and white, yelling to be drawn on.

And when the sun dipped a little lower and the world turned gold, so did the boy and you reached into your bag for a pen. You mapped out the canyons through the window, the tall, tall peaks of rock that made castles out of the ground, the way Steve’s hair fell across his eyes.

He blinked and looked at you quickly, gaze barely straying from the road but he saw how you traced his profile with your eyes, drew the same lines in your new book and he smiled.

“Front page, huh?” He asked and he grinned when you hid your embarrassment behind a scrunch of your nose. “Should I feel special?”

You wanted to tell him yes, you wanted to tell him that he was, that he was so, so special. So important, in such a short space of time, it was almost worrying.

So you smirked and shrugged instead, played coy and told him, “you’re awfully full of yourself, Harrington.”

Perhaps Steve could read between the lines, or maybe he just saw the way you looked at him when you thought he didn’t notice. Either way, his eyes were too bright to believe you, his smile pushing dimples into his cheeks as he laughed.

He just turned up the radio, nudged his sunglasses onto the bridge of his nose and said, “knock yourself out, Picasso.”

-----------

Moab was small, sleepy and surrounded by the same mountains you and Steve had driven through. The streets were quiet, small businesses mixing with motels and restaurants, a few spots of blue between concrete, pools hidden in gardens and behind concrete walls.

You hummed at the sight, the smell, chlorine and a barbecue cooking somewhere nearby.

“Can we get a motel with a pool?” you asked, leaning forward in your seat as Steve stopped at a red light, your chin resting on the open window ledge. “A pool sounds real good right now.”

Steve nodded even though you weren’t looking, his fingers tapping out a beat on the wheel and he made a noise of agreement, eyes lighting up at the sight of a bright blue rectangle behind a motel wall.

“It does, doesn’t it?”

The summer heat had only climbed higher, stickier, as you drove further into the desert, the sun trapping its warmth in the sand and rocks, less trees, less shade to hide behind. The road ahead looked hazy with it and suddenly, you ached to strip off your shorts, your shirt that was tinted red with dust.

“I know where we can stop first, though,” Steve told you, smiling like he had a secret, like he knew something you didn’t.

And when he turned the car off of the main street and into a parking lot, you saw the sign above one of the beige coloured buildings and you gasped, ecstatic.

“Oh, fuck yeah.”

The laundromat was fairly empty, the young girl behind the desk tired looking as she popped her gum and nodded to you both as you entered, not bothering to take her headphones away from her ears. The faint din of Material Girl by Madonna could be heard mixing with the whir of the washing machines and Steve dropped your rucksack onto the counter along with his own.

He grinned as he shoved his hand deep into his pocket, bringing back a handful of loose change. He dropped some into your hand, laughing when you cackled a little manically, too happy at the idea of washing all of your clothes. You were on your last clean pair of… well, everything.

You toed off your shoes, grabbed your socks off your feet and grumbled at the cool tiles, shrugging when Steve rolled his eyes. But then you were glancing at the girl at the desk, still oblivious to everything except her magazine and music.

The window to the front of the store was half frosted, the bottom layer making the world outside a little fuzzy, so you took a deep breath and popped the button on your shorts, grinning at the floor when you heard Steve swear.

Your t-shirt was just long enough, the hem of it covering your ass, the bright pink underwear you wore, and you told yourself the burn of embarrassment you felt was worth your shorts being clean. So you laughed as Steve stared, bundling your clothes into a machine and feeding it some quarters with hands that shook with a little nervous adrenaline.

But the town outside was still just as quiet and the desk girl couldn’t really see you from around the corner, nor did she seem to care. So when you hopped on top of one of the washers, Steve was at you immediately, grinning, cheeks flushed, like seeing you in such a way was too much to handle.

He didn’t touch you, not yet. But he stood in the space you made for him between your knees, your hands clutching your shirt to pull it longer, pushing it between your thighs. You hid your smile by pressing your lips together, nose scrunching and eyes bright as you took in Steve’s flustered state. He let out a shocked laugh, hands on either side of you.

“You tryin’ to get us arrested, sweetheart?”

You laughed, a bright burst of noise that made Steve grin, made him light up like you were doing and he couldn’t help but join in. You pushed your face to his shoulder, acting shy despite being half naked in a public space but you were giddy with it, the sun shining in on the aqua blue and baby pink tiles, making rainbows on the glass, the silver doors of each machine.

The red, neon sign above the door buzzed and flickered and the machine below you started to whirl.

“I don’t think this town even has a police department,” you joked, but you craned your neck to look out of the window all the same. The sidewalk was just as quiet as when you’d pulled in.

“Guess lunch will have to wait then,” Steve murmured and he brought a hand to one knee, his palm warm and wide as it covered the skin above it. “Can’t have you roaming around like this.”

“You could always head out for something,” you suggested, your voice low and soft, ‘cause shit, Steve was really close. “If you’re hungry… I could wait here, I don’t mind.”

“And leave you all alone?” His gaze on you was heated, a soft burn that made your lips part and your breath hitch. “As if. Someone might steal you.”

One kiss, two kiss, three.

“Wouldn’t,” he sighed into you, warm breath making your hair lift at your neck. He sounded dramatic, all faux despair as he mumbled, “you’re the only one who knows how to read the map.”

You snorted because it was hardly true, your directional skills getting the both of you lost more than once. But Steve has never gotten mad, only grinned and spun the car around, kicking up dirt and dust and telling you, ‘can’t get lost if we don’t know where we’re supposed to end up in the first place.’

“You’re a comedian,” you answered and you pulled back enough for your forehead to touch Steve’s. You sighed, happy, content, soft. “You gonna kiss me, or what?”

The boy grinned, wolfish and pleased, nose nudging yours in a way that seemed teasing, drawing everything out long and slow as he leaned, eyes closing like yours.

“That’s not very polite,” Steve whispered against your lips and his hands gripped your thighs, fingers pushing onto the doughy flesh a little roughly. It made you shiver, his touch, his voice. “Is it?”

“Good thing I never claimed to be,” you retorted and you felt his smile just before he kissed you, an impatient push of his mouth to yours and he swallowed your laugh, his lips making you dizzy and suddenly the only things in the world was the static crackle of the radio, the heat of the sun from the window and Steve.

—————

The town buzzed with a little more life when the sun went down, when the desert turned a little cooler and the streets lit up with neon signs declaring vacancies and sports games in bars.

You found a motel with a pool like you wanted, the afternoon spent with your legs dipped in the blue water, back flat out on the sun warmed concrete as Steve swam laps. Every now and then he’d appear at your legs, hoisting himself out of the water to drip cold on your bare stomach, press chlorine kisses to your hip, your knee or whichever part he could reach.

The day went slow like that, lazy, sun warmed, broken up with new kisses that were suddenly seeming like the new normal and it hurt how much you liked it.

And when the woman at the motel reception said there were only rooms with one bed left, neither of you were startled because it was becoming a frequent occurrence to share the same space.

It was a shame you never got to enjoy it that night.

It was fine until it wasn’t, until you and Steve found a bar after dinner that sold cheap beer and cheaper shots, a place with a jukebox and some old pinball machines, sticky tables and sticker floors. You found a group of kids your age, some boys and more girls from Los Angeles that wore UCLA sweaters.

It started okay, with the large group of you around some tables in a corner, taking shots at the dartboard with cherry flavoured vodka on your tongues, talking about California and where you and Steve came from.

The alcohol seemed to make the night warmer than it was but the girl's hand on Steve’s arm made you burn.

You had no right to be jealous, or at least that’s what you told yourself. Because the laughter got louder and you were pushed back into the booth, the vinyl sticky under your hands, your thighs, and you suddenly wondered if Steve knew you were still there.

‘Cause your new friends started to scatter, slip away after the beer turned lukewarm and they ran out of quarters, returning to their own motels with more sway in their step. But two girls stayed behind, on either side of Steve at the bar, giggling and with their hands on top of his as they made him laugh.

One girl was talking about her daddy’s boat and the party she went to in the hills last week. So you sat back and sipped your drink and the air in the bar suddenly became uncomfortably sticky and you not only wanted out of the booth, but out of your own skin.

The boy was laughing and nursing a glass of something amber and it glinted in the bar light. You wondered if he’d taste like the bourbon, the smoke that lived in the air, if he’d still smell like sunscreen and chlorine and Steve.

Maybe it was the vodka that was numbing your lips, maybe it was the alcohol that was making your heart hurt, ‘cause suddenly you felt the hot prick of tears press at your eyes and a panic clutched at your chest.

It made everything a little fuzzy, a little upside down and you couldn’t fathom why you were in a bar in the middle of Utah, a thousand miles from where you were told you had to stay. You looked at the boy who wasn’t looking at you and wondered what this meant, what was supposed to happen after California.

Because Steve had friends to go home to, people that missed him, people he called at every gas station, when he reached every new state. Maybe this was all just happenstance, maybe you were just the first girl Steve found at that party, maybe you could have been anyone.

Maybe it wasn’t all that cosmic, not anymore.

Maybe the songs on the radio didn’t mean anything, maybe you were just being stupid and maybe, just maybe, this was t going to work out the way you thought it was.

Maybe it was the vodka and the heat, messing with you, curling inside you like a little bit of poison. But if you thought about it long enough, nothing else made sense.

You were walking back to the motel before you really truly even realised, the air still as dry as it was in the day, the heat pouring out from the sidewalks, leftover warmth from the afternoon. The thudthudthud of your footsteps matched the beat of your heart and you could feel the rush of blood in your ears.

It was panic, the feeling that wrapped itself around, squeezing until you couldn’t breathe, until you felt your ribs crack as if the weight of the mountains were pressing down on them.

You didn’t even hear Steve catch up to you, his shoes slapping on the sidewalk as he reached for your shoulder, hand wrapped around it before you could slip in the motel door.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Steve rushed out, chest panting, brow furrowed. “What’s wrong, why’d you leave?”

The pool was your main source of light, the buzz of the generator and the flicker of the lights under the water making everything seem too still. The moon was high, the canyons in the distance looked black and the night was ultraviolet, a painful edge to it that made you wanna run.

“You noticed?” Your voice was horrible, deadpan, blunt, harsh as the brow you raised at the boy, your face impassive.

Steve baulked, surprised at your tone, at the way you shrugged his hand from your shoulder. The pool glittered and the night listened, waiting. It felt mournful, like you were already so aware of what you were about to ruin.

But you couldn’t help it because the panic met the vodka in your bloodstream and together they made your heartbeat too fast and suddenly you were too far from anything that felt familiar.

“What?” Steve whispered your name, tried to catch your hand in his own but failed.

“S’fine, Steve,” you muttered and fumbled with the room key. “You can go back to your friends.”

The boy caught the door before it slammed shut, following you into the motel room with an urgency that made you feel worse. You didn’t have the right to be annoyed at him. He promised you nothing, there weren't any labels, any plans.

But still. You couldn’t stop.

“My friends?” Steve questioned, leaning on the desk as he gazed at you, brow crinkled in confusion. You were wringing your hands together, pulling at an itch you couldn’t scratch. “You mean those girls? Is that what this is about? You’re jealous?”

The accusation set your teeth on edge but maybe that’s because it hit too close to the truth for you to deal with.

“Don’t,” you smirked, mirthless, trying to hide your hurt with annoyance. “Don’t do that, don’t play that card like we’re back in high school and you’re king Steve.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Steve spat out, jaw clenching at the old nickname. He was confused, hurt, still reeling from the way you’d pulled yourself out of the booth and walked out the bar, ignoring the way he called your name. “What’s this about? Us? Those girls? ‘Cause I wasn’t doing anything, I didn’t want them, I—”

You shook your head, the embarrassing, hot prick of tears at the corner of your eyes and suddenly the words were ripping out of your throat like you couldn’t stop them.

“No, yes, god, no!” You sighed, heavy, stuttering. “It’s all of it. It’s us, it’s this - this town, the road trip, California and everything. All of it.”

Steve was staring at your, lips parted. “I don’t understand.”

“What’s the plan, Steve? Huh?” You asked him, mournful. You sounded lost, so far away from the girl he’d seen earlier that day. “After California?”

Steve stood tall, walked a few steps towards you and stopped, as if he thought better of it. He shrugged, hopeless. “I don’t know. We go home, I guess?”

“I thought you didn’t have a home?” It was cruel, even if you didn’t mean it to be. But the boy had told you as such one day in the Ozarks and you’d never forgotten it. Because it’s how you’d felt too.

Steve’s stare hardened, like he was protecting himself from what you might say. What you were probably going to say.

“I get it,” you told him, “the thing with your parents. With your dad. I do, it’s shitty and I hate him for it but you have your friends, right? You wanna go back to them because that’s your home. Right?”

Steve stilled. Shoved his hands in his pockets and nodded. He couldn’t deny that.

“Is that so bad?” Steve asked you and there was a new edge to his voice that you’d never heard before and it reminded you that it had only been two weeks.

Two weeks with the boy. Only two weeks and here you were trying to remind yourself not to fall in love. Stupid, you told yourself.

“No,” you stated. “But soon you’re gonna go back to Hawkins and I’m gonna be somewhere by the ocean and well, what’s the point?”

‘Of us, of this?’

You didn’t say it, but the boy heard it all the same.

“What?” Steve’s voice was heavy, full of hurt and anger and confusion. “What? I was just supposed to take you to California and fucking leave you there? Was that the plan?”

Word vomit, that’s what was. Uncontrollable, sour tasting, mean.

“There was no plan!” You barked out, sudden and sharp. “There was never any plan Steve! You just kissed me at a party one night and asked me the most ridiculous question anyone has ever asked me and suddenly, we’re in Utah together and I’m pretending like this is gonna be something it’s not.”

“Why are you pretending, huh?” Steve answered just as loud, his hand in his hair as he tugged on it, cheeks pink with the heat, the tension, the overwhelming feeling that something bad was going to happen. “Why can’t this be something? You’re not making any sense!”

“Because you’ve got something to go back for!” You cried out, “you were always gonna go home Steve, ‘cause you have friends and people who miss you and I—”

“What?” Steve snapped, “you don’t have anyone? Is that it? You don’t have me?”

You stood, silent, eyes glassy and brimming with the tears you didn’t wanna let out because then it would feel like defeat.

“Maybe you’d have friends to go back to if you didn’t spend all your time in your aunts house!” Steve bit, his eyes as watery as your own but there was too much anger there to see past. You flinched, reeling. “Ever think about that? Seeing as I don’t count for shit.”

You scoffed, a sound that tried to mask the sting you felt, the sticky upset and dread that gnawed at your throat. You felt like you were underwater, moving too slow, a loud rush in your ears.

Stop it. Don’t. Shut up.

“Sure, ‘cause being daddy’s punch bag is absolutely fine as long as you can take your friends to the arcade on Saturday, right? Right, Steve?”

You could feel the regret in the air. It was heavy, thick and it tasted like metal, rusted copper, like a bitten tongue.

“Real cute, sweetheart,” Steve laughed, humourless, wiping at his face like he was trying to hide the hurt.

He couldn’t help feeling just as bad, Steve knew he’d crossed the same lines you had, both of your words coated in barbed wire, thrown like grenades with an aim to implode. It was easier like that, you’d discovered over the years.

Traps were easier to escape from if you blew up the walls first.

Except, as you shoved your clothes into your backpack, toothbrush from the sink, spare pens on the nightstand , you realised that as you looked at Steve, you didn’t feel all that stuck at all.

It was too late though. Your bag was packed and you shoved it over your shoulder, an arm of a sweater hanging out of the zip and you almost faltered before you grabbed your sketchbooks, old and new, one bought by the boy and the other filled with drawings of him.

Steve called out your name once before you left, motel door slamming, the walls vibrating as you left him in the room.

And as you walked across the town, smearing tears across your cheek, taste salt on your lips, you wondered if you’d be able to step into the ocean without Steve. Because suddenly, this tiny town seemed too big to be alone in and the idea of your feet in the big, blue sea seemed astronomical.

Who’d hold your hand?

Who’d still be there when Steve went home and you had nowhere to go home to. What would happen to you when Steve went back to his job and his friends and the town he was born in and all you were left with was the pencil outline of his face, the camera reel of photos that would probably never be developed.

You weren’t sure what time it was but the streets were empty and the bar lights were off, the red signs outside glowing with the word ‘closed’. The moon was lowering, the sky no longer black but violet, hazy on the horizon was morning threatened to come, to shine some light on the upset you’d caused.

It stung, nipped at you like a winter chill despite the warmth that was always in the air and suddenly you were aching to be back in the room, in bed with Steve, nervous breaths mixing as you lay close on the same pillow. You wondered if he would’ve kissed you, if he would’ve pressed you down beneath him on the bed if you hadn’t walked away, if you hadn’t snapped and bitten and caused something you shouldn’t have.

You sniffed, swiped harshly at your eyes with the back of your hand until your knuckles pressed meanly at your cheeks.

The bus station was empty and the bag at your feet leant sadly against your shins. The ticket in your hand said five twenty five and you had a feeling you didn’t have too long to wait.

The clock above the office said five eleven and the ache in your chest didn’t ease at the idea going off alone.

#superb steve harrington series

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mxvladdy · 4 years ago

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Diavolo- True Form

Whoooooooo weeeee! ‘Pologies for the wait on these longer posts. I’ve been hit with a one two punch of house emergencies and sudden costly ass repairs, so my creative juices have been rightly squashed as of late.

Plus side I got my drawing tablet and drafting table back so I can neaten up my blog lay out now (yay!)

Anyway this one was a challenge in the best possible ways. I really like Diavolo because of how little we know about him so it gave me some wiggle room. Or at least what I know of him- im only on like chapter 23 of the stories. Idk if I did him justice as this is angsty af but I sure had a blast writing it!

Hope ya like! Next up: Beelzebub

Trigger warning: Mention of blood, and swearing.

Diavolo-

He'll never show you, so don't ask. His true form is god-like in its own right and such knowledge, such truly raw demonic power in its natural form is not for your mortal eyes.

No matter what your lineage, it would break you. And despite his roles and being the literal devil, he doesn’t want you suffering.

Sometimes when he thinks you wouldn't notice he relaxes his hold on reality, just a fraction. He wants to relieve some of the tension that is always building just below the surface. Like closing your eyes when you have a tension headache. The mental energy he has to exert to keep face is enormous. Regular glamour doesn’t work nearly as well as his own, or Barbato’s magic.

But you see hints during your downtime spent in his company. A ripple in his reflection on the window pane. Unexplainable shadows dancing across his exposed skin. Too many teeth in his mouth when he laughs. Sometimes when you stare into his eyes you see something indescribable staring back behind them. His usually warm and inviting gaze darkening. A barest flicker, a hulking bestial thing kept locked behind in his golden gaze. It's enough to freeze the blood in your veins.

On certain nights when you can slip away from the brothers you stay in his room. Lying awake, you watch his magic wane and shift as he slumbers. Sometimes you see runes, or at times letters. You are tempted to write them down and ask Solomon. But something stops you each time.

The worst images are the faces. Unknown souls trapped beneath his flesh clawing to be freed. Silent screams fading back into his body as he dreams. Your fragile fingers trace the patterns they leave as you wait for the next day wrapped in his embrace.

Only once have you seen more of his form then he would ever wish. The depths of his strength and mental fortitude were unknown to you so the slip up took you both by surprise. He masks the error well, but the sudden shift in energy in the room couldn’t be suppressed .

You are suddenly so aware of the oppressive weight of gravity on your frame. Your bones grinding together under the force of his aura. You panic, desperate by the need to breathe, but are unable to draw even the smallest bit of oxygen as it is robbed from the room. Time and reality wrapped too, distorting in ways only you thought only Barbatos could do. You knew in that moment the sudden dread of death, how mortally was but a rusty shackle tethering you down.

He collects himself, dispelling the energy and locking his glamour down tight to protect you. But that split second of fury felt like an eternity to you as you sink to the floor. You hiccup a shaky sob and shiver. Your fragile human mind bowing under the strain of what it cannot comprehend. Scolding hot tears fall from your cheeks, before splashing crimson the stone below you.

You didn't approach him again for over a month. No matter how strong you are, some things were better off unseen.

Mini Fic

He didn’t know. For once in his ancient pitiful existence, he had been unaware of his surroundings. It had been for just a moment, one tiny crack in his veneer. The foolishness of Mammon and Belphegor’s actions finally poked the right nerve. He wouldn’t hurt them, for Lucifer’s sake. That prideful demon would never forgive him if he did. But he could scare them. A quick look at his true self; a flash of the deepest bowels of hell. Enough to give them a reminder of their positions and standing in his court. He had expected their whimpers of fear, could taste the acidic tinge of it exuding from their pores. What he didn’t expect though was your blood curdling screams alongside.

Ironically, he would have to thank the second eldest later. His fast thinking is the only thing that saved you from complete damnation. His body shielded yours, taking the brunt of the stronger daemons hellish might for you. What little magic Mammon still had left used to protect you. Though, while your vision was blocked, you could still feel his oppressive presence. It racked your mortal flesh. Diavolo knew what affects his power had on humans. He spent years breaking and consuming damned souls with zeal after all.

The brothers had run from him after that, screaming for Simone. Barbatos following close behind, a look of consternation on his usually impassive face. You had been so limp in Mammon's arms. Diavolo could do nothing, shocked by his own weak will and realization that he might have ruined everything. You had been whisked away so quickly by his faithful servant and the brothers that he hadn’t had a chance to look you over himself. But the brief moment he saw will haunt him for years to come. Your eyes red from the sudden haemolacria, the blood staining your clothes and face. Your fingers digging away at your soft skin, black and purple blotches staining what he could see. Mouth opened wide on a silent scream. He knew what you must have seen. The souls of the damned trapped under his glamour breaking free to latch on to your unmarred soul trying to drag you back with them.

Against his butler's advice he stands at your door now days later trying to see you. He couldn’t sit around and just hear updates second hand. The brothers had been keeping guard most days in a valiant attempt to keep him away. But he could only be waylaid for so long before he used his rank against them.

He had arranged a full council meeting. Every one of the brothers knowing full well it was to get them out of his way. Yet, the order was absolute. This time none of the brothers could reject it. Barbatos would keep them in that room for eternity if he so wished for it. He hated using his age and power against them, but he saw no other way to get to you.

It was foolish now, standing as he was in front of your door. A part of him hoping you would turn the knob and let him in. Let him comfort you for once, instead of the asinine distractions the brothers offered. He could help too. Hells, he wanted to. He wanted to be closer to you. Power discrepancy be damned. The other part of him knowing it was for the best that you didn’t. Your guardian and tormentor all in one. He listens to your muffled sobs for a moment fighting with his feet to stay cemented to the floor instead of heading back in defeat.

"When my father was still around he took me down to the deepest depths of the kingdom. Where the worst of the traitors and sinners are imprisoned." His deep baritone rumbles through your door during a break in your crying. "It’s a place few seldom go; even now I have yet to return. Back then he told me ‘there will never be a human soul that is undeserving of punishment. Even the ones destined for the celestial realm are tethered to sin.’ At that time I believed him. The things I saw in your realm... " The prince chuckles wearily.

He remembers the ever present scowl on the old King's face. His dark eyes looking out at the sea of damned souls he controlled. Even as a young daemon, fresh into his wings and still sharpening his horns to impress others he could tell how much his father detested his position. How it had warped him, turning him bitter and cold, even to his mate and only child.

Diavolo never wanted to be like that. Not to the ones he supposedly cared for at the very least. "I think that is why he hated the other realms so much.” He continued. “Humans, for their ability to choose which realm they would eventually end up in after they pass. That even the worst sinners could find redemption enough at the last moment to get to the pearly gates. While daemons, no matter how well they served, or the duties they did for the good of their own would never be seen as equals to our celestial counterparts or yours. That this existence is all we'll ever be destined to have. Nightmares and monsters, stories to tell little human children to keep them in line.” He pauses, collecting himself. “I believed wholeheartedly that every human deserved the punishments only my kind could dowel out. But, in this past year I have spent with you, I find myself changing. You are so undeserving of such torment. Somehow you are understanding and forgiving beyond measure to us. You handle our ill tempers with such grace. For daemons such as us, it is staggering, and humbling. I regret that I have hurt you so deeply and have broken your trust. I swear it as the head of this realm I would never intentionally do so." He looks at the door handle willing it to open. " I am so sorry."

Your crying picks up again. Huge heaving sobs that rattle your chest. Great Father, he just keeps making it worse. Clearing his head Diavolo turns.

Rejection of this nature was new to him. No one had ever dared to ignore him, especially such as this. The royal in him- his father's blood- seethed that he would even stoop so low as to grovel to a short lived thing like yourself. Even deeper yet, it demanded another taste of your essences. You little soul kept safe behind your rib cage. He wanted it added to his collection, kept tucked away deep within his maws.

It was sick; it was wrong. He chokes on the idea. The intrusive thought burrowing deep. How deplorable was he? Perhaps the angels were right to keep him out of heaven.

You didn't show to class the following day, or the days after. Unsurprising to him and the seven of the inner council. He figured the other day wouldn’t change anything. But it was utter agony to him. These days trapped in his office only getting short and curt updates on your health from Lucifer. It had been a special kind of torment.

Today he sat once again at his desk staring at some godforsaken bitching of a royal cousin. He knew this whelp. Some backwater thrice removed eons ago. Yet he was demanding an audience? The gall. The ink of their eligible handwriting makes him cross eyed. Would this day ever cease? He looks to his hourglass, the sands within seemingly frozen in time.

"My Lord, perhaps you should take a moment to stretch your legs?" Barbatos moved from his corner. Gloved hand coming to rest on top of the same three lines he had been reading for the past two hours. "This work could wait another evening I’m certain ."

"Did I do the right thing my friend?" Diavolo doesn't even bother answering the question his servant posed. They both knew he wouldn't. "This program. Our human exchange students. Solomon is one thing, but-"

"Your will and path is absolute." Barbatos states. "There are no mistakes within you, merely stumblings onto different paths."

With a gentle push Barbatos moves the hulking demon out of his way to collect and organize the scrolls and letters scattered about the large desk. "You made the right choice bringing them here. Look at what they have done. They are entertainment to you are they not?"

The prince rose knocking his desk aside and descended on his butler. His true form out in all its unholy glory now. His highly condensed magic distorting the study as if he was a black hole. The axis of the room shifts. His priceless collection of books and toys disintegrating from the cold radiation he emits.

It was all for show really. There was nothing he could do to an ancient being such as Barbatos. So he lashed out, throwing a tantrum in the security of his office. The hopeless agitation he felt fueling the flames of his rage. His butler had only added holy water to his already festering wounds.

Barbatos had been by his side for time in memoriam. The crafty bastard had helped raise him. Had shaped him into the ruler he was today. If anyone could break and remold him it would be his oldest companion.

The dark haired daemon waited for the waves of agitation to dry up. Moving only when the prince was in his more presentable demonic form. Large barrel chest heaving as he reined himself in. “Are you back to your senses?” He asks coolly, already categorizing the items to replace and furniture to be mended.

"I had not meant for it to go like this." Diavolo croaks into his hands collapsing back on what remained of his desk. Building a bridge between realms, yes. That noble idea was the greater purpose of this program, but the rest of it. The classes, and dances. The parties where he threw his newest toys about to see how they would react to things other mortals worshiped? That had been for his own curiosity and amusement. Lesser beings navigating a foreign world blind to the dangers that were right under their very nose. Bring a mortal with no magic into his realm? Deep down he knew this was an inevitability. Especially with the freedoms he granted them. He just didn’t think he would get so attached.

“No one believes that you would hurt them on purpose.” His butler cuts off his downward spiral. “It would ruin the program. That is what you are so stressed about, right?” Barbatos eyes him skeptically. Diavolo, himself, and Lucifer had spent many sleepless weeks constructing and negotiating this program. If the Arch Angels heard a mortal was hurt down here it could very well end this little escapade. But the look in the prince’s eyes told a different story.

A warm glow emanated from his cheeks and he was unable to meet the old daemon’s gaze. Ah. "Or perhaps things have changed?" Barbatos smiles coyly up from beneath his bangs. "You are your mother's son after all. Neither of you were ever able to stem your bleeding hearts for long." Diavolo squawked indignantly but didn’t argue. Instead he merely turns a darker shade of red and curses under his breath.

He skipped out on court that evening. Not that he cared much. The other nobles would no doubt use the time to gossip about his whereabouts and uncouth behavior of late. Truth be told, he was avoiding the brothers more than anything else. They had made it expressly clear (some more then others) how they felt about him currently. He wouldn't doubt that Belphegor had a few more brothers on his side now.

Instead he stood at your door once more with a tea tray in hand. He had bumped into Simone on the way. The angel had come to bring you dinner and to check up on the last of your wounds. Celestial magic worked miracles on those who have been touched by the darker arts. Diavolo was grateful for his talents. And, by some miracle, Simone had made it abundantly clear he was not going to bring this to the higher ups on his end either.

Upon seeing the prince slinking up the house's stairwell the other man had simply smiled and offered him the tray. “I suddenly got a message from Luke. Could you perhaps drop this by our friend’s door?” Diavolo had accepted without preamble, large hands dwarfing the platter of little tea cakes and sandwiches. The young cherubs work no doubt. His cooking was a fine treat, and a great incentive to at least open the door.

“Hello again.” He knocks twice. “I just wanted to check in on you. I know I am the last person you wish to see but I was hoping to talk?” Silence greets him. Were you awake? He breathes deeply and focuses on picking up your vitals. You were up, your heart thumping steady somewhere in the room. That was good. “I also have dinner for you. Simone had an urgent matter to attend to so he- for better or worse- entrusted this to me.”

Diavolo searches hopelessly for something else to say. He couldn’t just leave the food and go. He needed to see you. “I don’t plan on staying long today. I understand when I am not wanted, but I cannot help myself but be worried for you. Perhaps this is just me contritioning, because I know I caused this. The amount of times I have been called a ‘ass’ by Solomon over this have been staggering.” He rambles. After another bout of silence from your end he coincides. “I see- I will leave the food by the door and let you rest.” Defeated he puts the food down and turns to leave.

The door clicks open slowly. One bloodshot eye peeking through the crack. “Oh mio piccolo mortale.” He loses his grip on your shared tongue at a loss. You looked- you must have been in the hall longer then he or the brothers had known. Such damage couldn’t be done in a few moments. Your skin was healing as nicely as Lucifer had said, but the deep purple scarring still remained on the surface. The burn pattern of it all was random. Twisting wounds that reflected an oily sheen from the light of the hallway. “I-.”

“I know-” You cut him off with a raised hand. “and I feel as though I owe you an apology too.” Your voice was so weak and shaky. A mockery of your normally strong and jovial tone. Hearing you laugh at school had brightened the dreary halls. He hadn’t realized it until you weren't there.

“You owe me nothing.” Diavolo says in earnest. He watches you contemplate your next words before throwing whatever you were going to say away.

“Would you like to come in?” Your eyes drop to the tray. “Luke always makes more than I can eat.”

“I don’t think that would be wise.” He backs out. All his plans crashing and burning around his feet. His actions had been irreparable.

“Perhaps not,” You open the door wider taking the tray and heading to your side table, leaving him no room to argue. “But then again, being a lamb among such wolves as yourself and the brothers isn’t smart either.” You meant it as a joke but he couldn’t even muster a chuckle. It was true. Gods. “Dia-” You approach him again but falter at the last second.

As much as you wanted to be close to him again the memories were still so fresh in your mind. The cold hell fire of his magic ensnaring you, searing your skin. The whispered words of sinners long since past still echoing in your head, all in languages you’ve never heard before. The worst though had to be the screaming. Lost souls begging for help. Some sounded so familiar…You shutter involuntarily.

You wanted to hate him for this. Curse him for putting you through this pain. But how much could you blame him? Or any of them? They were daemons. Whether he meant to hurt you or not, it truly had only been a matter of time before it happened. It would be hypocritical of you to fear or hate him forever over this. Six of the seven brothers have threatened your life before, and you have forgiven them. Hell, one of them actually killed you. What’s more was that Diavolo’s wrath hadn’t even been directed at you.

Wrong place at the right time; seemed to be your forte. “Please, come in.” You repeat again firmer than before mustering up either courage or sheer human stupidity to order him in. You couldn’t tell the difference anymore. “We need to talk.”

He enters, following at your heel like a lost puppy. All air of princedom gone as you clicked the door shut. Diavolo fiddles with his hands, old habits from childhood coming with his nerves. He didn’t know what to expect anymore. Yelling? Some kind of beratement? A plea to go home and never look back? He would let you.

You pass by him, giving him a large berth of space to get to your seat. “Tea?”

Diavolo jerks his head to you. He had forgotten momentarily the plate of food he had used to get access to you. You smile sheepishly pushing it and a plate of sweets towards him with your unbandaged knuckles. He doesn’t move till your hand retracts back to your lap. You jerk your head to the open seat waiting for him. You weren’t going to take no for an answer.

“I- thank you.” The daemon sits making himself as small as possible in the straight back chair. He takes the porcelain and drinks mindlessly. The scalding hot tea doing little to help the tightness of his throat, but it did thaw some of the ice in his mind.

“Are-how…” He fumbles so unsure of what to do next. “I see you’ve been keeping up with your school work.” Diavolo closes his eyes, wincing internally at his words. That’s what he comes up with? Idiotic.

You smile anyway, eyeing the massive pile of books and paperwork spewn about your bed. “Yeah. I’ve taken to doing my school work with Levi in his room. Mammon and Beel are nice enough to drop it off to the teachers when they are due.” He nods. He knew this of course. But it was nice to hear it from you. But yet, you don’t meet his eyes. Far too afraid to see what hid behind them.

The thought of being dragged back into those dark depths again makes your pulse quicken. You instead stare at your nail beds, finding them more interesting. They were purple now. The nails stained black by the contact with his magic. “Will- will that go away?” He asks. Demonic curses or taints were nigh impossible to remove fully. Disgustingly, he hoped they didn’t. Then your nails would match his. The darker depths of his soul coo at the idea, happy that in a small way every daemon would know your his. Not as good as a pact, but as close as he could get to being a part of your little mortal life.

“I’m not sure.” You reply honestly bringing your hands up to place them on the table. “Simone and Solomon have done what they could. But, it is as good as it’s going to get for now. They say it could fade with time.” You look up at him, eyes gazing to the left of his face. “Luke thinks I should see a stronger angel.” Diavolo winces, the thought stung, and terrified him. “I told him no.”

That surprised him. This was your chance. The celestial realm had been skeptical from the beginning. If they knew, it would be a perfect caveat for them to step in. “Why?” Finally you look at him. The fear was still there. Hesitation evident in your eyes. Yet you forced yourself to look at him, fighting through your trepidation.

“Did you mean what you said earlier? About your father and what you think of me?”

“Of course.” He replies without hesitation reaching for your cold hands. You flinch but don’t move away. It felt-nice. His warmth chasing away the perpetual chill that covered your fingertips. Idly you stroke his strong hands with your thumbs.

“Then, I think we can work on this privately.” Slowly but surely you felt like you could fix this. Not for the program, but for yourself.

#obey me #obey me diavolo #obey me headcanons #gods have mercy I wanna smooch him so bad

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tinyboxxtink · 4 years ago

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Build Me Up Buttercup *Part 9*

Weeeee!!!! Here we go, getting close to the end guys.

I’m glad so many people like it, it makes me happy.

Okay okay enough sappiness, we’re not dead yet.

Oh and gotta tag: @wanniiieeee

If you need to catch up:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Finale

Epilogue

“...Soooo, are we hoping he shows up, or not?”

Once again, your BFF was there to hear the latest escapades of the saga unfolding.

“Obviously NOT,” You scoffed, falling back onto the bed. It was stiff, almost…crusty. You tried desperately not to think about just what exactly went on in these rooms on a normal basis.

“Because….?”

“Because I don’t wanna just BANG IT OUT, that’s why!” you exclaimed, wondering why that wasn’t blatantly obvious.

“Yeah but didn’t you say that Barba said that he was still gonna care about you, even after sleeping with you?”

“Yeah…” you twirled your hair again.

“So then if he does come to you then you know he really does believe that, correct?” Your BFF pointed out.

“But what if he doesn’t?”

“Oh come on, you think that Barba would just have sex with you to prove a point to your sergeant?”

“I mean, what if he doesn’t care about me after, y’know...we fuck,” You said blatantly.

“Seriously?”

“Yes SERIOUSLY. Come on babe this has all happened SO fast, I mean it can’t be anything other than physical attraction,”

“You don’t believe that,”

“Of course I do! Look at me! Metaphorically. Guys don’t ‘date’ me, they wanna fuck me and leave me.

“Yeah, that’s usually because you fuck them before you give them even so much as a name, and then kick them out in the morning. Nice try,” Your BFF shot down your attempts to self deprecate.

“...Whatever,”

“Look, I love you. I know you’ve been through hell and back. But, at some point you have gotta let the past be the past, and realize that you’re not that girl anymore. You’re not 16, you’re a grown up. And a smart, beautiful one at that. A guy could easily fall in love with you,” they assured you.

“In less than 24 hours,” you rolled your eyes.

“Okay maybe not love, but certainly more than a dicking. I mean Christ Y/N if that’s all he was after he wouldn’t have defended you to Liv, he would’ve just begged her to let him have a day pass to fuck you and move on!”

“But, we’re so-- and he’s-- and I’m-- I just can’t see how we’re gonna…” You tried expressing your thoughts but it just wasn’t coming.

“Look, get out of your head. Just, stop. Stop overthinking it,”

“Yeah okay,” you said sarcastically.

Suddenly, there was a knock at your door.

“Y/N?” you heard Rafael’s muffled voice outside.

“SHIT,” You hissed into the phone, jumping off the bed.

“Is that him? I TOLD YOU,” your BFF laughed triumphantly.

“Shut up. I’ll call you later.” you tossed the phone on the bed, fluffed your hair as if that was going to help the situation, and opened the door.

“Hey, can I…?” He motioned inside, leaning into the doorway.

“First, I need you to be honest with me,” You put your hand up to his chest.

“Okay…”

“How drunk are you?”

“Seriously? I may not drink straight shots of tequila all the time, but that doesn’t mean I’m some old man lightweight,” he scoffed, very offended.

“That’s not an answer,”

“...Honestly? I think I’m more buzzed off that kiss earlier,” he smirked.

Damn he was smooth.

You rolled your eyes and opened the door, letting him walk in. You motioned for him to sit on the bed, to which he replied, “Yeahh….I don’t think I’ll be sleeping anywhere tonight. God knows what is on these,”

“Really? So how pray tell do you think we’re going to ‘bang it out’?” his head whipped around at that sentence.

“Christ almighty, again Y/N?! Privacy, google it,”

“Oh whatever, you two were practically screaming in the parking lot,” you scoffed.

“I swear to God, you are so--”

“So what? Stupid? Immature?”

“Infuriating!”

“Hello, kettle,”

“Oh really? How am I the bad guy here? Olivia sat there and basically called you a piece of ass, and I defended you!”

“And yet, here you are. Ready to fuck,” you presented your hands as if you were a platter.

Rafael put his hands over his face and paced the room.

“Ay dios mio, me voy a suicidar,” he muttered while pacing.

“Oh really, you wanna kill yourself? That’s a tad dramatic, counselor,” You scoffed again.

Rafael’s eyes widened, “You understood that?”

“I heard suicide,”

“Right...ok look,” he stopped pacing and stood in front of you, taking your hands in his.

“I’m not-- I don’t...want to just, ‘bang it out’,” He rolled his eyes at the notion.

“But, also-- I don’t not want to….y’know,” He gestured towards the bed with his head.

“...So you do, but you don’t,” you continued with the sarcasm.

“It’s not JUST what I want to do, carino,” he put a hand up to your cheek.

“Cards on the table, I would love nothing more than to rip that shirt off and ravish you right here, until we have to leave in….Jesus, 7 hours,” He shook his head, knowing he was never going to sleep tonight either way this went.

“Just not on the bed,” you half laughed.

“...Y’know what? For you, I would risk the thousands of venereal diseases that are seeped into these sheets,”

“....How romantic,”

“If you really knew me you’d know that is the peak of romance,”

“See that’s the thing Rafael-- I don’t really know you. Not really. And you don’t know me. We just...I don’t know, we had this little chemistry thing going all day, and then y’know you cleaned me up when I was crying, and then held my hand through my story, and I--”

“And that’s why you wanna sleep with me,” he dropped his hands and stepped back from you.

Your face fell, your eyes widened. It had never occurred to you that he would be the one doubting the sincerity of the situation.

“What? Seriously?”

“You just said I don’t really know you, you don’t really know anything about me, except that I helped you through a difficult situation and now you wanna ‘repay’ me, or you feel attracted to me because I made you feel good,”

Your jaw was on the floor; was he actually saying this? Was he this insecure this whole time?

“That is so not--” you tried to interject but he kept on.

“Then how do you explain it? This, this little attraction coming out of nowhere--”

“It didn’t come from nowhere,” you cut him off without thinking.

“Excuse me?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Are you a moron, counselor?” you asked, to which he just stared at you dumbfounded.

“You honestly think that just because you dried my tears in a bathroom and held my hand through a story, that I would just throw caution to the wind and make a very obvious, romantic grand gesture? In front of my BOSS? Olivia could’ve fired me at any point today for ‘fraternization” or “unprofessionalism”, or a million other things that have run through my mind. You think that I would just risk my career because I thought you were nice?!”

Now it was Rafael’s jaw on the floor, flabbergasted at your sudden admission. He shook it off quickly, walking back up to you and caressed your face once again.

“So...you do have an insane crush on me?” he smirked.

“I wouldn’t go far as to say ‘insane’....spirited, maybe,” you blushed, making him grin like a kid in a candy store.

“AND, really to be honest it’s only been a subconscious thing, I think. But this morning at the gas station, something just…”

“Clicked,” he finished your sentence.

“Ye-Yeah,” You whispered, now once again stunned.

“Yeah…” he smiled, rubbing your jaw with his thumb.

“So….what are we doing here, counselor?” You tried to keep your voice from wavering, but his hands on your face and the smell of his cologne was driving you nuts.

“We’re standing here, detective,” he smirked.

“Oh fuck off don’t be cute about this,” you hit his hands away at his snarkiness.

“But I’m so good at it,” he pulled on your hands playfully.

“Alright what are we going to do about….” you gestured between the two of you.

“Well, I told you what I want to do,” he smirked again, pulling your face close to kiss you, but stopped mere millimeters from your lips.

“BUT, I also don’t want to do something just because Olivia tells me to,” he pulled back quickly, amused at the annoyance on your face.

“So what, you wanna make out like teenagers? Wouldn’t that just be proving her point?” You scoffed, trying to hide the fact that you wanted to do so much more than that.

“I just...I don’t want us to...and then you--” he made hand gestures left and right.

“And then I? And then you!” you hit him softly.

“No, not me. You think you’re the only one with a subconscious?” He raised an eyebrow, indicating he had always felt the same about you.

“So...neither of us, wants either of us, to change our minds,” you pulled him in closer once again, your arms wrapped around each other’s necks.

“But both of us, assume that we will,” you continued, moving a hand to play with his collar sans tie, so that it was showing the tiniest bit of his chest.

“SO-- I propose this,” You patted the chest window with both hands. Rafael took this chance to grab them and keep them there, anxious to hear your proposal.

“We….have some fun,” you wagged your eyebrows suggestively.

“And since both of us already think that the other one is gonna bail, we’re not gonna expect tomorrow to be any different, right?”

“Right…” he held onto your hands, forcing you to balance back and forth on your toes.

“And, if we both still feel the same when we get home…” you clung tighter to the collar, pulling yourself closer to his face.

“Then we do this. For real,” you whispered, staring him straight into his gorgeous green eyes.

“...And what happens when one of us changes our mind when we get to the city?” He brushed hair away from your face.

“Well then, I’ll just transfer units so you can get over me,” You gave him a tongued smile.

“Oh, I think you’ll be transferring to get over me, carino,” he smirked.

“What does that mean, by the way? I hope it’s nothing bad, considering you’ve called me it all day,” you asked, and he laughed.

“No no no, not bad-- never,” He kissed your forehead.

“It means like, ‘sweetie’ or ‘honey’, it just sounds prettier in spanish,”

“It really does. To be honest you could call me trash in spanish and I’d still think it was sexy as hell,” you admitted, making him laugh louder.

“I would never call you basura, carino, EVER,” he assured you, going in for another kiss; this time, he didn’t stop.

You both began kissing each other furiously, the crescendo of your wants from the entire day came spilling out all at once like a broken dam. Without thinking you jumped up and wrapped your legs around his waist. Surprised, he momentarily stumbled back, but quickly adjusted your weight in his grasp, pulling you tighter into him. You could feel his growing member against your thigh, and you couldn’t help but smile knowing you were the reason for it. All of a sudden you felt yourself falling back onto the bed, Rafael continuing to kiss you.

“Oh yeah sure just let me get the jizz germs on me,” you giggled in between kisses. In response, he crawled on you and moved you up closer to the headboard, his entire body now on top of you.

“Alright there, my body is full of jizz now too, happy?” he panted.

“Yeah I know it is, I can feel it,” you smirked, grabbing his belt and tugging on his erection. He moaned, his eyes widening in shock and excitement.

This was it, no going back now….

#rafael barba #rafael barba x you #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba imagine #law and order special victims unit #law and order svu fanfiction #law and order svu #build me up buttercup

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sebsxphia · 1 year ago

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Then he was all but pounding into you, hard and fast and unforgiving, and you couldn't hold it in anymore. A scream bubbled up in your throat, and you let it free, filling the room with the shrill sound. That's when your lover stopped, going still as could be. When you opened your eyes, he was looking right at you. And that ocean blue you loved so much? It had gone nearly black. / He grabbed your face roughly, forcing you to keep eye contact. "What was that?" / "I-I-I'm sorry Daddy!" You began to sob, body undulating beneath him. "I c-couldn't help it!" / "That's not good enough." He pulled out of you, immediately climbing off of the bed. / "No, wait!" You gasped, "Daddy, please, I'm sorry, it just slipped out, I-" / But then, his hand was clamped over your mouth, eyes staring down at you so intensely you thought you would burst into flames right then and there. / "Shut your mouth, you brat," he snapped. "You are going to lay here, completely silent, until I come back. Do you understand me?"

LEAH LEAH LEAH, LEAAAAAAAAH 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 IM YOWLING LIKE A CAT IN HEAT AT 9 AM, OH MY GODDDDD!!!!! (i read this at 9 am waiting for my bus)

is it bad my pussy could feel the pounding? anyway. he is so, so fucking mean, but god would i let him do this to me, so willingly, it hurts. the lead up to this was so dizzying and so delicious, i’m reeling! i just absolutely adore the way you paint such a beautiful and pleasure binding picture. robert floyd is ruthless! hear hear! but then the softer moment after of asking for your safe word? and his check ins the whole time? 🥹🥹🥹 he’s so perfect. i’m so deeply in love with this man, and you, and your writing!

You were his good little plaything, and he made a mental note to reward you tenfold after he was finished with you. You were handling this all better than he thought you would.

"Mm, you're doing so well, sweet baby. Hold on just a little longer and Daddy will let you come."

“Poor lil thing. Need me so bad, don’t ya?”

“Guess I’ll give the baby what it wants.”

"Beg for it, m’love." / With what little energy you had left, you spoke, voice wavering. "P-please...I need to come so bad, it hurts. Please let me come, Daddy. I’ll do anything."

"Oh," Bob breathlessly sighed, "I can feel you tightenin' around me. You gonna come for me, sweet baby?"

THESE PARTS GOT ME SO FUCKING GOOOOOOD 🤤 bob using all of these sweet pet names?! whilst doing the meanest things to you?! and then coaxing it out of you so sweetly?! the, “i’ll give the baby” part sent me into orbit!!!!!!!!! i am in fact just a needy baby who’ll do anything he wants 😵‍💫

He grasped your face in his hand then, staring you down. You were trembling something awful at that point, sweaty, exhausted, nearly there. He placed his mouth against yours, tugging your bottom lip with his teeth before releasing. "Open your mouth," he hissed. / Obediently, you did so, and as your lips parted, Bob didn't miss a single beat, spitting into your open mouth before pushing it shut promptly after. "Swallow." Yet again, you obediently did so, always willing to do what he asked. The whole eroticism of it all was what pushed you over the edge, and with a desperate howl, you plummeted over that precipice, shaking violently beneath your lover.

WEEEEE YOU KNOW IM A SUCKER FOR SPITTING YEAAAAAAAH BABEY

and then all of the aftercare after?! oh leah, you know how much i adore your aftercare 🥹🥹🥹 the feeding you and brushing your teeth part?! my heart! 🥹🥹 i loved, loved, loved this! mean dom, loving, bobby is so personal to me!!!! 💗🫶🏼

the ties that bind | bob floyd

description: in which your lover unravels you completely

warnings: 18+ only, bondage, orgasm denial, vibrators, daddy kink, light pussy slapping, some begging, spitting, aftercare

pairing: bob floyd x afab!reader

Robert Floyd was ruthless.

No one expected that of him just by looking at him. He was a quiet, passive person. He preferred to blend in, to watch from afar. No one expected him to have a mean bone in his body. And, really, he was sweet as pie. The greatest lover you’d ever known.

But, unbeknownst to all the friends who claimed he was “passive” and “timid”, he was also wicked, and he quite enjoyed having you entirely at his mercy, willing to do whatever he asked of you. And that was precisely the position you found yourself in at that very moment.

Bound to his bed, unable to escape, skin buzzing hot with anticipation, wondering what he was going to do to you next, and thinking that maybe, just maybe, you had bitten off more than you could chew when you had agreed to do this.

In the beginning, it had sounded like such fun. Wicked, sinful fun. You had been the one to bring it up, after all. You'd gone to your lover and proposed the idea. And he, ever the sinner, had eagerly agreed. The decision was mutual, and when he had asked you if he could do anything he desired to you, within reason and boundary, you had told him yes.

But now here you were, naked, writhing, trembling. He was above you, a devious smile on his sweet, handsome face. And at that moment, with his pale blue eyes burning right into your own, you were beginning to slightly regret even suggesting this whole thing. He was punishing you in the most wonderfully painful way imaginable, and you weren't sure how much longer you could handle it.

He had you stretched out across the mattress, arms tied to the headboard, legs bound and held apart so he could easily access the very center of you. Your skin was slick with sweat, eyes squeezed shut as you put every ounce of energy you had into holding on to what little control over yourself you had left.

You could feel that all too familiar burn in your lower abdomen, threatening to engulf you in searing pleasure. But you couldn't let go, not yet. You just had to hold out a little while longer, and you would finally get your reward. But goddammit, it was hard.

Maybe it would be a little easier if you could make noise, let out your frustration through cries and moans. But you weren't allowed to make a sound, though, per his rules. If you so much as let out a whimper, you would be denied your orgasm and endure whatever punishment he deemed fit.

When he'd told you this, you had underestimated just how hard it would be. Sure, I can be quiet, you thought. Now, you were wishing you had never let him make the rule, because all you wanted to do was scream at the top of your lungs.

You'd lost track of time. Had it been minutes? Hours? He'd had that damned vibrator against your cunt for ages, on high, a setting you rarely used together because it was so intense. But he was feeling ruthless today, and was quite enjoying the sight of you squirming uncomfortably, pulling at your restraints. You looked up at him with wide eyes, silently begging him to offer some relief from the intense vibration, but he refused to oblige.

Bob knew your body well, had you memorized like the back of his hand. He knew how you moved when you were about to tip over the edge, knew the look on your face, the tense in your muscles. And whenever he saw those telltale signs, he pulled the vibrator away promptly, leaving you to buck your hips into the air and bite your lip hard in bitter frustration.

He was enjoying this, really. He'd never seen you so desperate before, he had to admit. It had his head spinning, body warm with desire. All he wanted was to be inside you, feel your slick warmth envelop him. But he was exercising every ounce of self-control he possessed. He would be inside you all in due time. Right now, his priority was getting you to the edge again, give you just the slightest taste of release before pulling away just when your body was nearly at its peak.

He watched you bite the inside of your cheek, surely hard enough to draw blood. You were trying your best to respect his wishes, to follow his command. And for that, he loved you. You were his good little plaything, and he made a mental note to reward you tenfold after he was finished with you. You were handling this all better than he thought you would.

He ran his free hand down your bare stomach, leaning down to press a kiss to your glistening forehead. "Mm, you're doing so well, sweet baby. Hold on just a little longer and Daddy will let you come."

I have been holding on! You wanted to shout at him. But you bit your tongue - literally. If you yelled, it would surely earn you a bruised bottom and a denied orgasm. You could feel it, though. Searing through you like molten lava, threatening to burn you alive. Your chest began to heave, and as Bob looked at you, he saw the slightly panicked expression on your face.

Instantly, he turned off the vibrator, partly because he couldn't handle waiting any longer, and partly because he knew you were nearing the end of your rope, and he didn’t want to push you there quite yet. He set the handheld wand aside, reaching up to gently stroke the side of your face, praising you yet again. "You're being so good for me."

You nuzzled your warm face against his large palm before his touch was gone, leaving only a soft rush of air in its wake. The sound of him unzipping his pants had your cunt clenching around nothing, knowing that in a few short moments, you would be filled to the brim.

When he came back into view, he was completely bare, and you watched through hazy eyes as he reached down, lazily tugging that thick, heavy cock before he situated himself between your spread, trembling legs. In that moment, he wanted to tell you to beg for it, as he often did. But he wanted to see just how long you could stay silent.

Leaning down, he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your lips, tongue ever so slowly sliding over your bottom lip. Then he went lower, hungry mouth suckling at your soft breasts. His teeth grazed the sensitive skin and you huffed, bucking your hips up in search of him. He held you down with his hand against your pelvis. “Uh-uh, be patient,” he scolded.

Deft fingers danced along the front of your body before he caressed your spasming pussy, so swollen and hot to the touch. “Poor lil thing. Need me so bad, don’t ya?” He hummed with mock sympathy. You looked up at him with wide eyes, frantically nodding.

“Guess I’ll give the baby what it wants.” Then, he guided his cock toward the place where you needed him most, and he began to nudge into you.

At the initial stretch, you let out a gasp, trying so hard not to whimper. How on earth were you meant to stay silent when that gorgeous cock of his was currently beginning to split you right open? Your own arousal provided more than enough lubricant for him. "Look at you," he murmured, "soaked and ready for my cock."

You pulled at your restraints again, leaning up, hoping he'd kiss you again. But he ignored your silent plea, placing his hands on either side of your arms, holding himself up as he began to slowly thrust into you.

He couldn't help but groan deeply at the feeling of you, so snug and warm around him. He knew it wouldn't take long for him to reach his end, and he was glad that he'd edged you so much, because that meant you'd finish right along with him.

He brought his mouth down to your breasts again, sucking and biting as he picked up his pace, fucking into you more deliberately. Beneath him, you were trying desperately to keep your mouth shut, to remain silent as he carried on. But he was making it damn near impossible. He felt so good, filling you deliciously, each ridge and vein brushing against every last inch of you.

You closed your eyes, the sensations bubbling up within you growing too intense, enough to draw tears. They began sliding down the sides of your face and into your hairline, hot and wet. You moved in tandem with him, rolling your hips, wanting and needing more. You were getting close, simply from the stimulation of his pubic bone against your swollen clit, the gathering of sandy curls around the base of his cock only heightening those sensations with each brush against you.

If you stayed quiet just a little longer, you knew that he would let you come soon enough. In the beginning, he'd told you that you would only be allowed to come while he was inside you, and now, your sweet release was so close you could almost taste it on your tongue.

Bob was growing a little rougher, a little faster, a little deeper. He was making noise freely, groaning and growling, filthy words swimming through your head, telling you how good you felt, how wet you were, how you were made to take his cock. You wanted to scream, cry, wail. It was becoming so overwhelming that you weren't sure how much longer you could hold out. You were biting your cheek so hard you could taste copper in your mouth.

He grabbed your face roughly, forcing you to keep eye contact. "What was that?"

"I-I-I'm sorry Daddy!" You began to sob, body undulating beneath him. "I c-couldn't help it!"

"That's not good enough." He pulled out of you, immediately climbing off of the bed.

"No, wait!" You gasped, "Daddy, please, I'm sorry, it just slipped out, I-"

But then, his hand was clamped over your mouth, eyes staring down at you so intensely you thought you would burst into flames right then and there.

"Shut your mouth, you brat," he snapped. "You are going to lay here, completely silent, until I come back. Do you understand me?"

You nodded, and he lifted his hand from your mouth. Tears were still streaming down your face, due to frustration, anger (mostly at yourself), and desperation. You sniffled, coughing and sputtering as you watched Bob stop to pull his sweatpants on. He only turned back to you to speak once more. “What word do you say if you need me to come back and untie you?” His face had gone gentle.

“Palomino,” you breathlessly replied.

“Atta girl.” He left a sweet kiss to your sweaty forehead. When he straightened, he was back to that strict persona. "You're staying like this until I come back into the room."

And then he was gone, leaving you stretched out and humiliated on the bed. It took you a long while to calm down, for the tears to stop and for your breathing to return to normal.

Meanwhile, Bob had made his way into the kitchen. Dinner time was approaching, and he wanted to have a meal prepared for when he was finished with you, because he knew your energy would be depleted, and that you would be starving.

He also knew this was torture for you, laying there, suspended and unable to do a single thing about it. He could only imagine how pliant you would be once he returned, willing to do absolutely anything he asked of you, just so you could get a release. And if he was being honest, that was what he wanted, because he, too, needed a release. He was still achingly hard within the confines of his pants, and he knew it wouldn't go away so easily.

To distract himself, he put on some music - classical, Tchaikovsky's 4th - and then proceeded to gather the ingredients he'd need. Pasta, of course. Something hearty and comforting, because he knew you'd need it after all the exertion he'd put you through.

He let himself slip into the process of preparing the meal. Cooking had always been therapeutic for him. Especially cooking for his lover. He put his whole heart into the meals he made, and you always swore you could taste the love in each bite.

In the bedroom, you could hear everything. The music, the clang of pots and pans. You could smell garlic cooking, and you knew he would take his sweet time preparing everything, just to further punish you. Damn him, the bastard.

Your shoulders were becoming quite sore from your predicament, and so were your legs. It was rather uncomfortable. It always was, but normally, Bob removed the ropes from you the moment he was finished. But not tonight, because he was far from finished with you.

It felt like hours had passed, even though it couldn’t have been more than twenty-five minutes. You were growing restless. So, in order to occupy yourself, you closed your eyes, attempting to create an elaborate story in your head. It did little to distract you fully, but it did help some. So you continued on. Eyes closed. Waiting, waiting, waiting.

And there was Bob, entirely at ease and unbothered in the kitchen, draining the pasta and moving over to stir the sauce. He tasted it, deciding it needed a little more basil leaf before pausing to chop one and tossing it into the deep red liquid. He knew you’d love the sauce, he’d outdone himself this time with it.

But you were not thinking about food. You were thinking about him. And you were beginning to grow angry at that point. Your patience was wearing thin. You knew this was what you deserved for disobeying his one rule, no sounds, but you couldn't be bothered to care. You just wanted him to come back and untie you. You thought about shouting for him, maybe eve safewording, but decided against it. You were nowhere near needing to use that word just yet. Bob’s intention was never to push you to have to use it, either. The word was merely there as a safeguard, and you didn’t find it necessary to use at the moment.

So, you remained silent, just as you'd been doing for the past thirty minutes. And finally, after what felt like eternity, you could hear his footsteps coming down the hall. An odd mix of both relief and anxiety swirled through you at once. Relief because you knew he would soon release you, and anxiety because you had no idea what was coming after.

A glass of water was perched in his hand, and a smirk was spread across his handsome face. "Look at my pretty little angel," he murmured, strolling towards the bed. "Still spread out for me, just the way I left you."

The clink of the glass being set on the nightstand reached your ears, but you didn't dare take your eyes off him to look at it. Bob's hand came to rest against your cheek, before traveling downwards, skimming over your breasts, stomach, and finally landing between your legs. Those beautiful fingers slid along your wetness, and you shifted your hips, only to be shocked entirely by a light slap to your pussy.

Even so, Bob had mercy on you. He'd punished you long enough, it was time to reward you. So, he reached up, taking the liberty to untie the bonds on your wrists. When your arms fell, you let out an audible sigh of relief, slowly lengthening your arms beside you as Bob moved to untie your legs. His fingers massaged over the marks the rope had left indented on your skin, and he moved down to press a kiss to each one.

For a moment, his eyes softened as he gazed at you. "You okay?"

You mustered a weak, but genuine, smile, and nodded. “I’m fine.”

Satisfied with that, Bob set the jute rope aside, and climbed onto the bed. He hovered over you, seamlessly moving to leave a deep kiss against your lips. His warm hands cupped your face, and he broke the kiss to look at you. "You can make noise this time around," he granted, and yet another flood of relief washed over you.

Bob made quick work of removing his pants then, tossing them to the floor below before settling between your legs yet again. You let your eyes flutter shut as you felt his heavy cock pressing against your soft, wet center again. His voice, sweet and low, floated through your head then.

"Beg for it, m’love."

With what little energy you had left, you spoke, voice wavering. "P-please...I need to come so bad, it hurts. Please let me come, Daddy. I’ll do anything."

If he was feeling spiteful, he would have demanded more from you. But in that moment, he needed his release as much as you did. So he took your plea with satisfaction, kissing you yet again as he slipped into you for the second time that night. The feeling made you whine, and you grabbed at his shoulders for purchase.

His movements were slow at first, gradually building. He covered you with his entire body, engulfing you in the safety of his big arms as he fucked you. He soon had you trembling, gasping, moaning. The ability to let out sounds felt so wonderful, and you were sure to let out plenty.

You were so painfully close. A full hour of stimulation still had you sensitive, even thirty minutes later. When Bob brought his hand down to the place where your bodies met, fingers pressing into your nub of nerves, you were keening beneath him, tears springing to your eyes all over again.

"Oh," Bob breathlessly sighed, "I can feel you tightenin' around me. You gonna come for me, sweet baby?"

"Y-yes," you squeaked, pathetically so.

So, Bob went a little faster, a little harder. And soon, he was fucking you right into the mattress, hitting all those wonderful spots inside of you at a steady pace, sending shocks of delicious pleasure surging through you, like electricity through a live wire.

He grunted and growled above you, trying his hardest to stave off his own orgasm. You were going to come before him, he was determined to make it happen. You’d been so good for him and you deserved it.

He was slamming into you at that point, the sound of skin on skin growing almost deafening. You cried out, clutching him hard enough to leave bruises. With your mouth parted, he couldn’t help but lean down to capture your lips with his own again.

"Come on," he gritted out, "I know you want to come for Daddy. Do it, come all over my cock."

You could only moan and whimper, writhing and thrashing against the mattress. Bob had a look of determination twisted into his features, a curl of sandy hair falling against his sweaty forehead. He wasn't going to let up until you were completely overwhelmed.

Obediently, you did so, and as your lips parted, Bob didn't miss a single beat, spitting into your open mouth before pushing it shut promptly after. "Swallow." Yet again, you obediently did so, always willing to do what he asked. The whole eroticism of it all was what pushed you over the edge, and with a desperate howl, you plummeted over that precipice, shaking violently beneath your lover.

Bubbly warmth engulfed you from head to toe, rushing through you in a surge so powerful you swore you blacked out. All you felt was utter euphoria, blanketing you like an intensely warm hug.

Above you, he watched it all unfold. He leaned back so he could watch the way your pussy clamped tightly around him, pulsing and contracting, milking him. As your body began to flutter down from the mind-numbing high, he soon reached his own.

With a low, open-mouthed moan, he fell apart, hips sporadically jolting into you as his spend seeped into you, claiming you as his own. If you weren’t so out of it you might’ve been able to admire that gorgeous face contorted in painful pleasure.

Soon enough, he fell against you, sweaty, spent, a complete mess. You held onto him, trying to calm down, though you were still trembling. "So good for me,” Bob sighed, “such a sweet pussy.”

He slowly and reluctantly moved to pull out of you, shushing your whine of protest. He couldn’t help but let his eyes wander, glancing down to watch the pearly white essence that had begun to drip out of your pulsing cunt. Then he gazed back up at you, brushing away strands of hair that stuck to your forehead from the sweat. "How’s my baby?"

The initial intensity of it all had worn off, and you were now left feeling sore and utterly drained. "I'm...I'm tired," you whispered, unable to utilize your energy to say anything else.

“Yeah? Is it okay if I move you? I wanna clean you up a bit.”

“Y-yeah.”

Ever so gently, he helped you climb out of bed, and he guided you into the bathroom, letting you lean on him when your legs threatened to give out.

He had you sit on the counter and spread your legs, where he carefully used a soft, damp cloth to wipe your center clean. He soothed you when you whimpered from the sensitivity. “I know. I’ll be quick,” he assured you.

He used another cool rag to carefully wipe your sweaty face. “Think you can handle a bath right now? Or is that too much?”

You considered this for a moment, your eyes heavy with exhaustion. “Too tired. Jus’ want to be wiped down.”

That was all he needed. He lovingly kissed your lips before he helped you climb down from the counter. After a quick full body wipe down, he then led you back into the bedroom, where he helped you change into one of his shirts and a pair of shorts. He dressed in his own pair of sweatpants once he had you settled.

Then, as you sat on the edge of the bed, he reached over to the nightstand to grab a bottle of water. He cracked open the lid and held the bottle up to your mouth for you to drink. It was cool, and did wonders to soothe your parched throat.

“You feelin’ up to eating anything? I made your favorite pasta,” he calmly suggested. As if on cue, your stomach rumbled eagerly.

You shared a look, and you giggled at each other. “Guess I’m hungry,” you said.

Bob nuzzled his nose against yours before he helped you stand, wrapping a strong arm around you. He took you down to the kitchen and guided you into a chair. However, it didn’t last long, because as soon as he sat down, you were climbing into his lap, craving physical contact.

“Wan’ me to feed you too?” He teased.

“Actually…I wouldn’t mind that,” you whispered in reply.

He kissed your temple. “Anything for my baby.”

Then your sweet Bobby began to feed you your dinner, purely out of love for you. It made your heart sing and tears of appreciation well in your eyes. You kissed his neck and thanked him. He told you he was happy to do it.

Once dinner was finished, Bob had an important question to ask you. "What do you want to do, sweet baby?" He asked. This was how it always was. After you allowed him the privilege of using your body, he always allowed you to choose how you wanted to be cared for.

"I wanna cuddle and watch something," you replied, to which he nodded.

"Coming right up," he said, yet again lifting you up. He left the dinner dishes, deciding he'd do them tomorrow. For now, his sole focus was taking care of you. You ended up in the bathroom again, where he placed you to stand on the floor. He kissed your forehead before pulling your toothbrush from the cup on the sink and squeezing toothpaste onto it.

Gently grabbing your face, he said, "Open."

You did so, and he placed the brush in your mouth, beginning the project of brushing your teeth for you. The gesture made you feel so deeply cared for. “There ya go. Go ahead and spit,” he finally instructed once he was certain he’d done a thorough job.

After the toothbrush and toothpaste were put away, it was time for bed. He helped you under the covers, and you curled up against the mattress as as you watched Bob search for a movie in your expansive DVD collection. Finally, he decided on something with Fred Astaire, one of his favorites, and popped it into the player before climbing into bed alongside you.

You curled up against his side, letting him engulf you in comfort and softness. Such a stark contrast to the rough, dominant man who'd just ruined you. You smiled to yourself, knowing just how much you loved him, and how much you always would.

"You were so good for me today," he praised, just as the opening credits of the movie began to roll, "how did I get so lucky?"

You shook your head, nuzzling against his neck. “I should be asking myself the same thing. I love you so much, Bobby. Take such good care of me"

"And I love you, sweet baby. Forever and always."

taglist:

@xoxabs88xox @alexandra8484 @kmc1989 @elusive-honeydew @vallyb @cdauni @happyrebelruins @bobfloydsbabe @myfandomchangesalot @mikpieboo @krys-orion @petersunderoos96 @eighthwvnder @mastercontrol123 @powerlvr25 @audri-janis @yanna-banana @bradshawsbaby @seitmai @chieflawyerpastatoad @roosters-girl @wkndwlff @acatwriteshere @backupcasmitchell @marchingicenotes7 @percysaidnever @cherrycola27 @diorrfairy @afriendlyneighborhoodhufflepuff @milesmillergf @damrlova @thedroneranger @bobfloyds @sebsxphia @rhettabbotts @withahappyrefrain @up-thereinthesky @peachystenbrough @lovinglyeternal @laracrofted @callsign-magnolia @gigisimsonmars

#robert bob floyd #fic recs #lewmagoo <33

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beetlebitchywitch · 5 years ago

Text

Yes, Professor

So our discord server might have come up with some professor AU’s for the Conglomerate and we might’ve gone a weeeee bit feral. So here’s what came of me deciding to target @realmonsterboyhours with two of her favorite boys, Zhuk and Bajo. Enjoy!

(If you’re unaware of the Conglomerate, a Mafia!Beej AU with 5 iterations of him, click here to get the full rundown courtesy of @monsterlovinghours

Warning: NSFW, some degradation, double teaming, spanking, just a fun time to be had

“Professor?”

“Hmm? Ah yes, come in, dorogoy.”

You hesitated in the doorway to his office, taken aback for a moment by the lavishness of the decor before you slowly entered, shutting the door behind you with trembling hands. You took a deep breath, thankful that your professor’s eyes were trained on his tea as he raised his bobbing tea bag in and out of the steaming mug. The truth was, Professor Zhuk had always intimidated you. Though he was a physically imposing man, it was his regality that truly made you feel small next to him. He spoke with an air of confidence and intelligence that no other professor could match, save for-

...Oh dear God.

“Buenos dias, querida,” Professor Escarabajo said from the plush armchair in the corner, a playful smirk playing on his lips. You stopped in your tracks, your brain sprinting to try and catch up with this unexpected turn of events. You knew you had to see Zhuk to speak about your grade in his Marxist Literature class, so why would the head of the History Department be waiting for you as well? You felt your cheeks stain a light pink despite your desperate attempts to keep yourself in check, already shrinking under the intensity of the professor’s mirthful gaze.

“This is my colleague, Professor Escarabajo,” Zhuk said cheerily, seemingly unaware of your growing nervousness as he gestured to the other man. “He will be joining us for our brief meeting. I hope that this won’t be a problem?”

You avoided his gaze, simply nodding as you sunk into the chair across from the two of them, thankful for the plush softness enveloping your body. After a moment, you felt composed enough to meet Zhuk’s gaze with a polite smile, folding your hands in your lap to disguise the telltale tremble of an intimidated woman.

“Not a problem at all, sir,” you replied softly, thumbing over the soft fabric of your skirt.

“Excellent,” he said, sipping at his tea- Earl Grey, you suspected, given the earthy aroma- before fumbling with his little gold reading glasses, sliding them over the bridge of his nose as he read through a few papers strewn across his desk.

God, what you wouldn’t give to be those pa-

No. Stop. You couldn’t be having those kinds of thoughts in front of the man you’d been fantasizing about for weeks. Christ, watching him command a classroom, demanding the attention of his students with a booming voice as he masterfully took you all through the intricacies of some of the most complicated literature you’d ever read...it made you want to throw yourself out of your chair and beg him to fuck you in front of the rest of the class.

But you couldn’t think of that. Not here, not in his office, not in front of another professor. You pinched your leg softly, hoping to distract yourself away from the fantasies that could only be making your cheeks redder by the second.

“Now, it seems you’ve been struggling on your reflections for Marxist Literature,” he said, looking over what you assumed to be a stack of the assignments you’d managed to turn in on time. “Tell me how I can be of help to you, moy dorogoy.”

You felt like you were short circuiting, your mind lulled by the sweet timbre of his beautifully accented voice, especially when he called you something in Russian that you were aching to know the meaning of. Gulping, you straightened your body in the chair, attempting to look as professional and put together as you knew you could never be in their presence.

“Well, Professor, Marxist Literature has honestly been a challenge for me,” you replied, hoping honesty would truly be the best policy. “I find it hard to look at literature from a Marxist lens when I’ve learned so little of his political theory in my classes up until this point.”

“Ah, should I tell Professor Scarabee that he’s slacking off in his teaching?” Escarabajo asked, his golden eyes alight with mischief. Your stomach lurched, oh God you were going to vomit, you couldn’t handle even the gentlest of teasing from this professor who was somehow just as handsome as Zhuk, except rougher, clearly looser, and apparently feeding off of your evident nervousness, if the look in his eye was anything to go off of.

“No, no, not at all!” you stammered. “I haven’t had the pleasure of being taught by him, but I’m sure he’s great at what he does, Professor Escarabajo.”

“Please, querida,” he said, his playful smirk softening as he gave you a little wink. “Call me Bajo.”

“Bajo…” you replied, and, despite everything, giving him a little smile of your own.

“Yes, well…” Zhuk said, clearing his throat to regain your attention. You snapped back, your stomach churning with anxiety as he stared you down. “I am happy to provide you with a few extra lessons, dorogoy. In fact, it seems to be fate that Professor...Bajo was here with me today. He just so happens to know quite a bit of Marxist political theory, yes?”

“Indeed I do,” Bajo replied, lounging back in the plush chair. “And I have nowhere to be. Will you allow for a bit of extra tutoring, pequeña?”

This felt like something straight out of a romance novel. Two gorgeous professors giving you a private study session behind closed doors? You nodded, shooting them a thankful smile as you tried not to let those kinds of thoughts into your mind. You needed to learn about Marx, and your professors were kind enough to help you, so you wouldn’t waste their time getting distracted by the demands of your body. You pulled out your textbook and sat back in the chair, ready to finally get some work done.

Of course, the world seemed to be against you from the start, because you simply couldn’t grasp a single thing the two of them were trying to teach you. It felt like your brain had turned to mush, the difficult political concepts sloshing around inside your skull and never finding a place to stick. Your answers were sloppy, your insights poor, and with every passing minute, you could feel the tension in the room grow. Zhuk was a patient man, you could tell he was trying to be gentle with you, but there was only so much even he could take. You could hear the growing aggravation in his voice, which only served to discombobulate you further. Finally, when you couldn’t even form an answer to the simplest of questions, Zhuk tossed your papers frustratedly onto his desk, running his fingers through his hair.

“Dorogoy,” he began, his voice deep and tense in a way that made your muscles clench. “We are doing all that we can to help you, but we are of no use to you if you refuse to pay attention.”

“N-no!” you stammered, feeling hot shame flush your cheeks once more. “That’s not it!”

“Then what is it, pequeña?” Bajo grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose as he took deep, slow breaths. “Because I refuse to waste my time trying to help a student who won’t repay the favor by actually listening.”

“That’s...I-I…” you fought the urge to curl in on yourself, your fingers digging into your sides as you tried and failed to put yourself together. Suddenly, Bajo stopped, looking down at you curiously before a broad grin spread across his face.

“Look up at me, querida,” he demanded, putting two fingers under your chin to lift your face so your eyes met. Your cheeks were already shamefully flushed, but the minute you looked into his deep, golden eyes, they grew even redder, your breath coming out in soft, shaky pants. You could see the satisfaction in his gaze as he let go of your chin and turned to Zhuk.

“I believe I see the problem, amigo,” he said slyly, striding back towards his chair and taking a seat, resting his elbows on his knees as he leered at you. “The only thing distracting our student from us...is us.”

“What are you talking about, Escarabajo?” Zhuk replied, looking you over quizzically. “She seems fine to...oh.”

You looked up at him with a soft gasp at the last word and were startled by the look in his eye. What started as confusion slowly morphed into realization, and realization quickly and readily became hunger. He looked at you like a man starved looks out over a Thanksgiving feast, and though it sent a shiver down your spine, you couldn’t look away. Could this be real? Could the man you spent class after class fantasizing over be looking at you like he wanted you back? The very thought felt shameful, and yet...right.

“So you see it too, hmm?” Bajo asked, startling you out of your reverie. “How naughty of you, mariposa. What ever are we to do with you?” You watched as he looked at Zhuk, his eyes silently asking, begging for permission. Zhuk nodded, letting his eyes flit over to you, frustration still present despite the ever-growing presence of lust, lust, God, you couldn’t even deny it.

“Get up, dorogoy,” he commanded, and the unwavering dominance in his tone had you scrambling from your seat before you could even process what you were doing. You watched fearfully as Bajo strode confidently over to Zhuk’s desk, reaching into the desk drawer to pull out...a long, wooden ruler.

...Christ.

“You know what’s coming, don’t you, tonta?” he said bitingly, smacking the ruler threateningly against his palm. You could feel your legs tremble as you nodded, sniffling under your breath knowing you were about to get what you deserve. “Good girl. Over the desk.”

You hesitated for a moment, a rush of mixed feelings taking you over; fear, shame, excitement, curiosity, desire...it was that last one that got your feet moving, and when you reached the desk, you bent over and braced your arms against the dark wood, the slight breeze against your bare legs making the blood rush to your cheeks once more. You kept your eyes trained on the desk beneath you, shivering at the sound of Bajo’s deep, foreboding chuckle.

“What an obedient girl,” he mused, touching the ruler to your thigh and dragging it up to flip your skirt back, revealing your black, lacy panties. You jumped as his cold hand took hold of the waistband, pulling them down just enough to expose your ass in a way that somehow made you feel more exposed than if he’d taken them off altogether. You could feel Zhuk’s eyes on you, watching silently from behind his desk with his arms crossed in front of him, and you felt it best to sneak a glance at his face. You nearly choked on your tongue at the sight of him, gazing intently at the roundness of your ass like he didn’t know whether to kiss it, smack it, or make love to it. You never imagined your professor looking at you in such a way...well, no, you did, but you never expected those thoughts to come true.

“You will count them for us. Do you understand?” he finally said, his words dripping with a stoic desire that somehow fit him just right. You nodded nervously, your fingers already curling against the wood in anticipation. You heard the whistle of the ruler through the air before you felt it, smacking against your ass loudly though still drowned out by your even louder cry as the pain radiated across your skin. Still, you remembered their command and were afraid of what might happen if you did not obey.

“O-one…” you whimpered, your voice thick with unshed tears.

“What a smart girl,” Bajo said mockingly, bringing the ruler down again with a sharp crack. “Though apparently not smart enough to pay attention. Is it going to take a fucking spanking for you to learn your lesson, mierda por cerebros?”

Tears spilled from your eyes as you stammered out a quiet “Two...”, a hot rush of shame filling your belly not at your lack of attention span, but from how much you liked his degrading words and the pain of each smack of the ruler against your slowly reddening ass. And God, the fact that Zhuk was just watching, staring you down as you were slowly taken apart by his colleague...

“Don’t you have something to say to us, gatita?” Bajo asked angrily as he brought the ruler down for the tenth time. “You made us waste an hour trying to teach you something that you couldn’t pay attention to because you were too busy being a fucking slut. Don’t you feel like you owe us something?”

“I-I...I’m sorry,” you whimpered thickly, watching as your tears dripped onto the wood of Zhuk’s desk.

“Louder, malenk’iy,” Zhuk said sternly, finally moving closer to you and brushing his hand over the raised welts on your ass. You hissed, but still bucked into his touch.

“I’m sorry!” you cried out. “I’m sorry, sirs! I wasted your time, I was a bad girl, I’m sorry!”

“Si,” Bajo said softly, running the ruler soothingly over your ass for a moment before suddenly, his hand was in your hair, yanking your head back so he could press his mouth right against your ear. “And you forgot to count.”

Oh fuck. A deep sense of dread filled your belly, your eyes widening as your tears continued to pour down your cheeks.

“I, no wait, I’m sorry! Please, sir!” you begged, but his hand in your hair only tightened, pulling a choked off whimper out of your lips.

“Escarabajo,” Zhuk interjected, placing his hand on top of Bajo’s in your hair. Yes, your knight in shining armor, come to rescue you from your fate- “I believe it’s my turn.”

...Well, shit.

Your entire body shivered as Bajo’s hand was quickly replaced with Zhuk’s larger one, his touch gentler as he gripped your hair, pushing your head down until your cheek was pressed against the cool wood.

“You were a very bad girl, kukla,” he said sternly, using his free hand to finally pull your panties down until they pooled around your ankles. “Wasting our time, forgetting to count...perhaps a stricter punishment is in order.”

Your breath came out shakily as you heard him quickly unzip his zipper, his cock slapping against a welt on your ass and pulling a hiss from your lips. He chuckled darkly at the sound, letting his fingers trace gently over your reddened skin.

“What do you say, Escarabajo?” he asked, shooting Bajo a bemused look. “Would you like to keep her quiet for me?”

You could only imagine the wicked grin on Bajo’s face as he and Zhuk rearranged you, Zhuk still behind you while Bajo stood in front of you, your head now hanging off the edge of the desk and at eye-level with his hardening cock. He quickly freed himself from his pants, stroking it just inches from your lips with a soft groan.

“You bet your ass I would. Time to put your mouth to better use, muñeca,” he said, rubbing the head of his cock against your lips. You opened them obediently, allowing him to slide inside and moaning softly at the weight of his cock against your tongue as he hit the back of your throat with ease. Zhuk’s fingers, now wet, slid between your legs, teasing at your entrance before sliding inside, making you gasp around Bajo’s cock.

“That’s it, gatita,” he crooned, slowly starting to fuck into your mouth. “Fuck, she feels like fucking heaven, mi amigo.”

“Treat him well, kotenok,” Zhuk said, his voice hushed as he marvelled at how wet you were from a simple spanking. “See if this teaches you how to be a good girl, da?”

You moaned your assent around Bajo’s cock, looking up at him obediently as you did your best to pleasure him, bobbing your head in time with his thrusts as Zhuk’s fingers sent little bursts of pleasure all the way to your fingertips. You felt properly full, your mouth stretched around Bajo’s cock while a second and third finger slid inside you, Zhuk doing his best to stretch you in preparation for what you’d been fantasizing about for weeks. You never expected a second partner thrown into the mix, but you wouldn’t complain about the taste of him in your mouth, the delicious stretch in your jaw as you swallowed him down, the wonderful groans as he fucked down your throat…

It felt like an eternity when Zhuk finally pulled his fingers out of you, and you groaned in protest despite the ache slowly forming in your jaw. He chuckled, smacking his hand cheekily against your ass and amusing himself with your pained squeak.

“Are you ready for your punishment, dorogoy?” he asked, dragging the head of his cock through the wetness of your folds. Confusion and dread took hold in you- you knew you had to be punished, but what could he possibly have in store that they hadn’t already put you through? Finally, he pushed inside of you, his thick cock stretching you more than you could’ve imagined as you let out a long, low groan around Bajo’s cock. When he finally bottomed out, he groaned softly, reveling in the way your pussy clenched around him. With a smirk, he grabbed your hair from behind, holding onto it like a leash. “Because if you’re going to cum...you’re going to have to beg.”

Oh God. You could tell Bajo was getting close, his groans growing higher pitched and his thrusts growing more erratic, his cock sliding fully into your throat with each thrust inside. Your ministrations grew sloppier as you felt hot rushes of pleasure radiating through your body as Zhuk began to take you, his cock dragging so perfectly inside you. It was all rushing to your head, the feeling of being taken so completely, filled to the brim, taken apart piece by piece with unrelenting pleasure. You gazed up at Bajo, your eyes going cloudy as you silently pleaded for him to cum in your mouth, spill inside you, make you his. He obliged a second later, pushing fully into your mouth and holding your face against him as he spilled down your throat, his choked off moan reverberating throughout the small room. You obediently swallowed every drop, gasping for air as he pulled out of you and immediately slumped into the nearest chair, running his fingers through his hair with a blissed out look on his face.

“Ooh, gatita, look how pretty you are when you get fucked,” he crooned, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees to watch you intently. “Give it to her a little harder, amigo, she can take more than that.”

Zhuk obliged, grunting as he sped up with ferocity, pulling on your hair to lift you off the desk so your back was pressed fully against his chest, his hand moving down to wrap around your throat as he took you so hard you thought he was trying to breed you. The very thought sent a warm shiver down your spine, along with Bajo’s eyes watching happily as your tits bounced from each of Zhuk’s thrusts. The head of his cock dragged perfectly against your G spot, pulling pitiful moans from your fucked out mouth.

“What a good little slut,” he growled, mouthing roughly at your neck. “Does someone want to cum?”

“I don’t know, mi amigo, she doesn’t seem to want it that badly,” Bajo said flippantly, his eyes glinting with mischief. You groaned in protest, trying to reach down to circle your fingers around your clit, but your hand was immediately slapped away, Zhuk growling a warning into your skin.

“I told you to beg,” he snarled, hovering his fingers teasingly over your clit, just an inch away from where you needed them to be. “Better make it pretty, too, if you want to cum.”

“P-please!” you whimpered, desperation quickly bubbling up inside of you as the pleasure halted just on the edge of oblivion, needing just a little more in order to boil over. With each thrust, the desperation grew, your hands frustratedly scrabbling for purchase on the desk as you were assaulted and teased with pleasure that refused to finally peak. “God, I need it so bad! Sir, please, please let me cum!”

“I can’t hear you,” he growled, tightening his hand around your throat until your voice was only a mere squeak. Bajo watched with delight, amused and aroused at the sight of you struggling and failing to beg for what you needed. “Louder!”

“PLEASE!” you cried out, frustrated at the bare whisper you somehow managed with the large hand clamping down on your throat. You whined at the sound of their laughter, but it quickly turned to a soft cry as his fingers finally descended on your clit, rubbing in perfect little circles as you finally toppled over the edge, cumming with a silent scream. The pleasure rushed through you like waves, and you sunk deeper and deeper as each one passed until you finally succumbed to the darkness quickly clouding your vision.

When you came to, you were surrounded with a pleasant warmth. Your eyes slid open to find your head nestled onto Zhuk’s chest, with Bajo curled up behind you with his head buried into your shoulder. You blinked away the fuzziness at the edges of your vision to see Zhuk smiling down at you, resting his head against his pillow.

“You got me to the bedroom while I was out?” you asked, nuzzling further into their embraces.

“Of course. It wasn’t exactly difficult, tsvetok,” Zhuk chuckled, stroking a hand comfortingly through your hair.

“What did you think, mariposa?” Bajo asked, pressing a sweet kiss to your shoulder before hooking his chin over it, smiling over at you. “Were we convincing?”

“Incredibly,” you yawned, smiling sleepily at them. “You make quite the literature professor, moy muzh.”

“Mm, well I’m glad you convinced us to humor you,” Zhuk replied, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “Now go to sleep, moya lyubov. You’ve earned it.”

He didn’t need to tell you twice. Your eyes slipped shut happily, comforted by the embraces of your favorite boys as sleep once again claimed you.

#beetlejuice #beetlejuice the musical #beetlejuice nsft #beetlejuice smut #nsft #beetlejuice fic #beetlejuice fanfic #beetlejuice fanfiction #mafia!beej #mafia beej #the conglomerate #zhuk #bajo #beetlejuice x reader #beetlejuice/reader #mafia beetlejuice #beetlejuice au #mafia au

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nolookfive · 6 years ago

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no one knows anything but us

it took me like 1793 attempts to write this but i finally got there phew. this is for all of u who got me to 2.5k wow weeeee i love you all a LOT.

It was Jake’s idea, much to her surprise.

And it came to him on a Tuesday, when she was about to fall asleep, her husband’s hand trailing lazily over the swell of her stomach. She didn’t have the energy to tell him to stop; mind you, she didn’t want him to stop either, his fingers lifting her(correction: his) shirt up over her bump, rubbing soothing circles into her skin where their tiny nugget had just kicked. It was calming, peaceful.

“Amy?”

“Mmm?”

“I don’t want the doctor to tell us what we’re having.”

She lets out a tired sigh and opens her eyes, their bedside lamp casting a dim glow across the room. She peeks up at him to see his expression serious, brows knitted together as he keeps his gaze on her rounded stomach.

“What do you mean?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know - I mean, I don’t want some random dude telling us the gender of our baby. Can’t we just find out alone? You know, get the doctor to write it down or something so we can look at it when we get home?”

She smiles, feeling a flutter in her belly as she links her fingers with his against her skin. “So you want to have a private gender reveal?”

“Yeah. I mean, think about it, Ames. Every milestone we’ve had, there’s always been people around. When we got together, everyone was there. When we got married, everyone was there. When you found out you were pregnant, everyone was there-”

“Actually, the last one was just Rosa, but we probably should’ve guessed Charles was eavesdropping again.”

“He always is, I’m not surprised anymore. So...what do you think? Can we keep this one to ourselves?”

She kisses him softly, resting her forehead against his. “Of course we can.”

That’s how she ended up here, two days later, sitting cross-legged on the sofa, a plain white envelope staring at her from the coffee table in front of her. After her scan earlier that day, Jake had to go back to work and, had she known the last four hours were going to drag, she would’ve volunteered to go into the precinct on her day off to do some paperwork just to pass the time. She’d done everything she could to preoccupy herself - cleaned the kitchen, changed their bed sheets, even called her mom which god knows was a painful experience in itself, pretending that she had to care about her uncle’s best friend’s wife’s surgery.

(She’d fallen off a ladder and tore a ligament in her foot. It wasn’t as exciting as Amy had hoped.)

But still, this little envelope was silently screaming at her. And if she’s learned anything from being pregnant, it’s that patience is not her best friend.

Just as she was about to say “screw it” and rip it open, a key turns in the front door and in walks Jake, hurriedly throwing his bag on the floor and tossing his keys on the side table.

“I’m here, I’m here,” he mutters, plopping down next to his wife and kissing her cheek.

“Hi to you, too,” she laughs, “long day?”

He groans. “You have no idea. Holt almost made me stay an extra hour because he wanted me to help him interview some intern applicants or whatever on the second floor. How am I supposed to care about that?”

“How’d you turn him down?”

“I told him I had a pregnant and very hormonal wife who was going to be pissed at me if I wasn’t home at the time I said I’d be. He seemed to understand that.”

“I’m not that hormonal,” Amy protests.

“Babe, you started crying when I asked you why you wanted to eat pickles coated in melted butter for breakfast yesterday. You’re terrifying.”

“Jake!”

“Anyway!” He reaches forward and picks up the envelope, flipping it between his fingers. “Ready?”

She takes a deep breath. “I think so.”

He wraps an arm around her shoulders, kissing her temple. “What do you think we’re having?” he asks, handing her the envelope.

She purses her lips in concentration, her fingers sliding under and across the seal. “I’ve been having strong boy vibes for the last week or so. And considering my mom pushed out an army of them before I arrived, I think I’m onto something.”

He chuckles, brushing her hair behind her ear. “I think it’s a boy, too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

She smiles softly at him, stretching her legs out across his lap and scooting closer to peck his cheek. “I really wanna know now.”

“So open it.”

She rips the envelope open, taking out the small card and leaving it upside down for a moment. She can’t move, just stares at it until Jake reaches forward, covering her hand with his and flipping the card over.

And they’re both wrong.

“It’s a girl,” Amy breathes, her heart pounding against her chest.

“It’s a girl,” Jake repeats in disbelief.

She looks up at him then, his expression unreadable until she sees the corners of his mouth start to upturn and she can’t help but let out a giggle. “Babe, we’re having a girl,” she whispers, reaching up to cup his cheek.

He tears his eyes away from the scrawled handwriting on the card in front of them to meet her gaze. “We’re having a daughter.”

“We’re having a daughter.”

His arms immediately wind around her waist, pulling her impossibly close to him, hands splaying across her back. Her own arms wind around his neck, the tears in her eyes finally falling free as she holds him, his face buried against her collarbone and she can feel his own tears fall onto her skin.

“Are you okay?” she laughs wetly, pressing a kiss into his hair.

He pulls away, letting out a laugh of his own and wiping at his face. “Much better than okay,” he replies, shaking his head. “God. We’re gonna have a little girl, Ames. She’s gonna look just like you and she’ll be the cutest kid in the world. She’s already the cutest kid in the world.”

“Hey, she’s going to be half-you, remember? Surely she’ll have some of your looks, too.”

“Oh, no, no, no, that’s not allowed.”

She grins, leaning forward to kiss him softly, her arm curling around his neck to pull him back to her. He moves to deepen the kiss, his hand sliding across her stomach tenderly, leaning away in surprise when he feels a nudge against his palm.

“Alright, kid, who do you think you are?” he asks, leaning down to his wife’s belly and poking it lightly. “Your mom and I have been doing this for years and you think you can stop us just because you’re around now? How do you think you got here?”

She laughs, her hand drifting across her bump. “Jake, you don’t need to give the sex talk to our daughter when I’m 24 weeks pregnant.”

“It’s never too soon to discipline a child, Amy.”

#b99 #brooklyn nine nine #b99 fanfiction #jake x amy #jake peralta #amy santiago #peraltiago #my writing #it took so many mistakes for this to work out hkhskjgsk #k bye i'm gonna leave the house now!

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anime-dub-transcripts · 2 years ago

Text

Hetalia: World Series Episode #7 Transcript

This episode has God visiting Hungary, teenage Italy visiting France, and Britain training.

God: Wake up, little girl.

Hungary: Hunah!

God: Listen to me. I have a divine prophecy from God for you.

Hungary: OMG, are you trying to tell me you’re God?

God: Sure, why not. Tomorrow, when you see France, you shall deliver my wrath upon him using your skillet.

Hungary: What?! You want me to smack France around with my skillet? Is that even kosher?

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

Hungary: Oh jeepers, what am I going to do? If you can’t excuse crime because the devil made you do it, how can I hurt someone because God told me to? I mean, technically, it is France, but even if he is a douchenozzle, he’s still a person.

France: Quelle surprise!

(Quelle surprise!: What a surprise! → French)

France: He is playing the piano as usual. Austria’s looks and poise give him a certain je ne sais quoi.

(Je ne sais quoi: I don’t know what → French)

France: If his house was closer and he wasn’t such a dick, I’d make him a French territory in a heartbeat! Ahh, seriously, just look at that face! So handsome! I want to lick it!

Hungary’s thoughts: Jeepers, God! Why do you have to stress me out like this?! I don’t know what to do!

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

Italy: Pata, pata, pata, pata!

Italy [narrating]: I went to visit my big brother France today for the first time in, well, since I was a kid!

Italy: Big brother France! I’m here!

France: Oui, hello.

(Oui: Yes → French)

France: Please to come right on in! Ahha! I can’t believe it! Are you really Italy?

Italy: Uh-huh!

France: It’s been such a long time! Oh, look how big and strong you’ve gotten! The last time I saw you, you were a tiny little thing!

(Chibitalia: Weeeee!)

{Caption: Smirk smirk}

France: Wow! It makes me wonder how much bigger you’ll get!

France’s thoughts: Hello, new French territory!

France: Italy! I adore you so so much!

France’s thoughts: Hello, new French territory!

Italy: Ahuh…please, may you stop? Bad touching!

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

Italy: Hetalia!

{Caption: Hetalia}

France: Since you’ve come all this way, would you like me to read a little story from this book that I doubt you’ve heard before?

Italy: Oh, yeah! It’s got a ton of words in it! And I don’t know what they are! Ahuh! Francey Pants, what does “sexual act” mean?

{Text in book: Sexual act}

France: Ohhon! You don’t even know that? Oh my, how adorable! It’s something you do…with someone you love. Ahhhhhh?

(Italy: Ahhhhhh…)

France: You can just pretend to love them too. Then you get to (Oh! Mm!) with their arms (Ahh!) or (Ooh!) with their lips or (Ohh!) with their tongue (Wow!). Also, there’s the (Oh wow!), which is the most important. I personally like to (beep).

Italy: Ahuh…

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

China: Hetalia!

{Caption: Hetalia}

Britain: Heaheaheaheah…

China’s thoughts: I think that Britain has been working out so he can become more stronger.

Britain: Hm! Mm! Hm! Mm! Eh! Eh! Ahuah…all right. My training’s gone well good today. Those wankers who said I looked weak will feel ridiculous now!

America: Dude! Britain! Finally! Where’ve you been? Been lookin’ for you for, like, an hour, cuz! Get this, I wanna try driving your car! Dude, I need your keys first!

Britain: Uhuhuhuhuhuhu…euhuhuh…

China: Are you not doing any of your training today?

Britain: No, I’m not.

{Caption: Hang in there, Britain!}

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

{Caption: Japan and America}

Children: Japan and America!

America: Nomnomnomnomnom…

Japan: Nomnomnomnomnom…

America: Hey, you know what, dude? Two for one rocks my socks right off!

Japan: Correct; it seems like good deal.

Japan’s thoughts: Ah yes; you, Mr. America, like the two for price of one kind of stuff as well. Interesting.

{Caption: To be continued}

Children: To be continued!

Child: Maybe.

#anime #anime transcripts #anime dub transcripts #hetalia #hetalia dub transcripts

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fandomfrenzysworld · 4 years ago

Note

Congrats chammy you’ve your stats in GTA just went up by 2 and nah just do what you got-a do and let the magic play out by it’s self

Chameleos smiled and gave a thumbs up before turning completely invisible again. After a few minutes, Rathalos went to get Alatreon. A few minutes later the Black Dragon came in, visibly pissed.

"Who?" he asked, knowing Nightcloak never drank alcohol.

"I don't know," said Nakarkos, "I served her regular orange juice. I don't even keep it near my alcoholic drinks, so someone definitely spiked it."

Alatreon sighed, walking over to Nightcloak and picking her up. "Come on you. Let's get you to bed," he said calmly.

"Weeeee! I'm flying!" Nightcloak said.

Alatreon sighed as he walked Nightcloak back to her room, giving several monsters a sharp glare when they started staring.

By the time they were back to Nightcloak's room, the Deviant had fallen asleep in Alatreon's arms. He opened the door with his tail and walked in, immediately heading for the bed to set Nightcloak down.

"Goodnight, you fluffy ball of feathers," said the Black Dragon. As soon as he tried to set her down though, she began flailing all about. Alatreon lost balance and, thinking quickly, aimed to fall onto the bed instead of the floor.

Wasting no time, the Bird Wyvern turned the two until she was on top of her lover, straddling his lap. "Now then," she said, "where were we?~"

Alatreon felt his heart start to race, remembering where this ended up last time. He sighed and placed his hands on Nightcloak's hips. "Look, we both know that you're gonna fall asleep before-" he began, getting cut off by a very eager owl slipping him the tongue in a very passionate kiss.

When she pulled away, a thin trail of saliva stretched between their tongues. "Well I guess we'll just have to go real hard and keep me up, huh?" she retorted. "Now, are you gonna help me take this off, or are you into going at it with stuff on?~"

Alatreon gripped the sheets as his blood ran cold, and another part of him began to warm up. He'd forgotten how exciting it was to see Nightcloak so dominant. His face flushed red, the Blazing Black Dragon slowly reached up with his shaky hands and began to undo the bindings that contained the beauty of the one above him.

"Come on now~ Do you honestly want this to end with you getting blue balled again?" Nightcloak teased. It rewarded her with what she wanted, as Alatreon quickly tore her robe and bra off, freeing the naked form of her upper body. "Good boy~" she breathed.

Alatreon's heart was threatening to pound out of his chest at this point. He didn't mean to tear her clothing like he did at first, but her words felt so different compared to normal. They made him want to act. Made him want to serve.

Nightcloak grinned as she stared down at her starstruck partner. She bit her bottom lip when she felt a certain part of him press against her through the one piece of clothing she had left. "Mmm~ I so badly want to have you bury your face between my legs~ But at this point I need you. I need you inside me!" she said.

In a quick motion, Nightcloak sprung to her feet, gripping Alatreon's pants and shirt with the claws on her feet. With a quick flap of her wings and a tensing of her toes, she lifted upward and tore Alatreon's clothes to pieces, leaving him bare.

Alatreon's breathing picked up at Nightcloak's forceful show. As she touched back down and rested her lower half against his own, he swallowed a deep gulp. He couldn't tell if he was excited or terrified. Or both.

"Come on now, you know what to do~" Nightcloak said as she moved her hips against Alatreon's hard dick. Her panties were already soaked from the excitement she felt.

Acting with her wishes, the Black Dragon pushed her final piece of clothing off to one side, revealing her wet pussy. He felt frozen as he stared at his lover's private area, almost making him think he was dreaming.

With a her anticipation getting to an unbearable level, Nightcloak slid her hips forward to place Alatreon's cock at her entrance. Biting her lips once more, she pushed herself back, forcing the rod of a god into her love canal. She immediately tensed as a wave of both pleasure and pain overtook her. She trembled and quivered at the sensation. She'd only taken about half his length, and yet she already felt so full. It truly showed just how different they were, how their bodies were each made for something much different than what they were experiencing. And yet neither would trade it for the world.

"N-Nightcloak? Are you okay?" asked the black dragon, concerned by partner's sudden lack of movement.

"J-Just give me a moment..." she responded, panting as her walls tried to conform to the size and shape of Alatreon's dick.

Feeling as ready as she’d ever be, she slowly slid her pussy up the length of Alatreon's member before moving back down to the halfway mark. She released a tiny moan both at the beginning and the end of her motion, her feathers flaring at the sensation. "F-Fuck this feels too good~" she said, staring directly into her lover's eyes. She once again moved her hips slowly up and down, doing her best not to get loud.

Each and every individual squeeze of Nightcloak's pussy send waves of pleasure up Alatreon's spine. He was gripping the bed sheets tightly, trying to hold onto something as his world was rocked.

"...m-my hips..." Nightcloak said quietly. "Please grab my hips again..."

Alatreon nodded and moved his hands to the hips of his partner.

One touch was all it took for him to understand what she wanted, as he started helping her move up and down at a slightly faster pace. Despite both of them wanting to go buckwild and fuck one another senseless, neither made the move to, enjoying the calm that they brought one another. They remained in the steady pace for what felt like hours to them, each one recieving and giving pleasure that they never even dreamed of.

Eventually Nightcloak felt the slight twitch of Alatreon's cock inside her. "G-Getting close baby?" she asked.

Alatreon could only nod his answer, finding it hard to speak.

"W-Well, you can go deeper, if you want," Nightcloak offered.

Alateon took the chance he was given and, upon her next move down, filled Nightcloak with as much of his scepter as he could. Noghtcloak took about three-fourths of his large cock before it hit her cervix. It took everything she had and then some to not moan out loud.

Thus came the evolution of their thrusting, now going up and down a greater length at a faster pace to compensate. Alatreon began to groan out from the pleasure he felt, pressure building up inside. Nightcloak felt the same, her tiny moans becoming more frequent and breathy.

Over time, their pace only picked up, each venture up and down taking less than a second to complete. Nightcloak began to go limp and relaxed her body to compensate for this, but it quickly opened a flood gate she didn't realize she'd been holding shut as a byproduct.

"FUCK!!!" she cried out as she felt herself pass the point of no return. Her walls convulsed and squeezed Alatreon twice as hard as they did before. Wanting to prolong her pleasure, she slammed her hips down, forcing the full length of Alatreon's cock inside her spasming pussy. His tip passed through her cervix and pressed against the wall of her womb, visibly distending her because of it.

Unable to contain it himself, Alatreon let out a large cry, practically roaring as his cock spasmed and released the first of many spurts of seed into his lover's waiting womb. Spasm after spasm he filled his lover, bringing her to such high heights of pleasure that she arched her back and screamed to the heavens like a songbird sharing its favorite serenade with the world.

Once the two calmed down and the air had settled, the Bird Wyvern collapsed into the embrace of the Black Dragon. She nestled into his chest, her eyes rapidly closing as she began to drift. He in turn kissed her forehead and rested his head back into the pillows. But just before he himself faded into dream land, he flared his wings out to avoid sleeping on them like he did before.

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1agentofchaos · 8 years ago

Text

The Spawn of the Great Joraffe and the Unicorn Queen

Notes: So, I know it’s the end of January, but this was an unfinished story I was attempting to write for Christmas which had made me frustrated because I couldn’t figure out how to end it. I needed a break from my other stories, so I went back to this one, and it actually began to flow, even though I had a number of holes to plug.

There is a book I mention at the very end titled “Unicorn Giraffe.” This children’s book actually exists. It’s by Teddi Rutschman and Laura Botsford (whom I hope would be pleased at the free press they are getting right now). While I’ve never read it, from what I can tell, it looks beautiful with a lovely story perfect for a child of Helena and Myka’s. The sentence Helena reads to her son is the actual sentence at the beginning of the book.

This story came to mind partly because of an inside joke in the Bering and Wells fandom regarding Jo and Jaime. For various reasons, Jo became known as the “Great Joraffe” and Jaime as the “Unicorn Queen”. I also was given a plush animal that looks very much what I described and couldn’t help but think how it could be the love child of the stuffed animals the Great Joraffe and Unicorn Queen with a rainbow mane.

Also: Fluff. So very much fluff! But we all need that right now, I think.

—

Summary: The big eyes of the little multi colored spotted plush animal with a little unicorn on top of its head stared at Helena with what could only be described as wonderment…if the bloody thing was alive.

The big eyes of the little multi colored spotted plush animal with a little unicorn on top of its head stared at Helena with what could only be described as wonderment…if the bloody thing was alive.

Which it most definitely was not.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes! I’m going to buy it. You can’t tell me Choo Choo Charlie won’t love this?!”

“While he may, Myka won’t.” Helena rolled her eyes. “And why on earth must you call Charles ‘Choo Choo Charlie’? Is it just to aggravate me?”

Pete grinned. “While I do love to aggravate you, HG, it’s an American thing from an old TV ad. Besides, it’s your own fault; you bought him that train set to begin with.” He elbowed Helena, teasing, “And don’t act like you’re all upset about it. You love to play it with him as much as I do.”

Helena did her best to hide her smile. She really did enjoy it to the point of making her son an intricate train track, and buying him additional pieces and train cars. Sunday afternoons were often devoted to Thomas the Tank Engine, building model trains together, and playing with the train set in the basement.

The inventor’s special surprise for Charles on Christmas Day: a brand new Steampunk train designed and built with the help of Claudia. There was also an even more detailed track that for one thing, required one to solve puzzles along the way.

“Oh my god! Squeal of delight!” Claudia rushed over, and seized the plush animal-thing out of Pete’s hands.

“Hey! I wasn’t done yet! Me and the spawn of the Great Joraffe and the Unicorn Queen are creating some awesome dance moves.”

Shoving Pete out of the way, Claudia squeezed and hugged the garish toy. Closing her eyes, Claudia cooed, “Oh, you are so precious, aren’t you, little…uh…” Claudia’s eyes opened, and she regarded the plush animal thing. “I’m thinking we need a name here, H.G.”

“Oooo, yeah!” Pete placed his hand under his chin, rubbing it as if contemplating some great universal question.“Now, let’s see: Joraffe Jr.?”

Claudia waved a hand, dismissing him. “Too easy, and too boring, Pete.”

“Well, what do you have?” Pete snagged it out of her hand and held it high above Claudia, who kept jumping and swatting at it to no avail.

“Come on, Pete! Give it back!”

“Weeeee! Look what I can do!” Helena was surprised Pete could make his voice go that high pitched, and watched the man child make the plush animal thing do various jumps and impossible athletic endeavors.

Helena rubbed her temple. She knew her four month pregnant wife would likely show up any minute and feared Myka’s reaction.

It was one week before Christmas. Helena and Myka were visiting Mr. and Mrs. Bering in Colorado Springs, and decided to revisit this charming store featuring all kinds of wonderful baby and nursery items. This was their second child, but now it was Myka’s turn to carry the child, and she was not happy about it. Not one bit. Helena refused to give her a free pass stating, “I’ve already done this twice now. Besides, Dr. Calder doesn’t think it would be safe for me to carry another.”

When they were married, the idea of children was not on the list, but the Warehouse had other ideas. Helena did not come to the Warehouse often but Myka had needed some help with organizing and deciphering some of Warehouse 12 files, not to mention Caturanga’s illegible writing. One thing led to another in the library…and now nine months later, Charles Christopher Peter Bering-Wells was born. (“That’s what you get for being naughty in the Warehouse, Mykes,” Pete had teased.)

Everyone was in shock it was a boy. Myka kept babbling about how science is science and they both had no y so why is there a y…

Pete was ecstatic, declaring the Warehouse knew another male was needed, and swore there were days he felt like he was swimming in estrogen. Steve took exception to this, pointing out there was also him and Artie to help in the testosterone department. Pete came back with the rebuttal that if you add Abigail, all the guys were out numbered. Plus, there were days Pete could have sworn Myka multiplied just to torment him.

Myka on the other hand was pissed Pete made this all about him, but her eyes were full of happy tears when little Charles was born. For her part, Helena was just happy to have a healthy baby.

She was also in a way relieved. Helena didn’t think she could have stood giving birth to another little girl. It would have been overwhelming, bringing back too many memories. It seemed strange to say, but somehow she felt the Warehouse sensed this, which would explain why she gave birth to a son.

Charles was now four, and the apple of everyone’s eyes, and he knew it. Helena swore there were days she could see her brother in little Charles’s mischievous expressions. It brought back happy memories of her and her brother Charles as children. Helena was usually the instigator, as most of the ideas were hers, but Charles was always a ready and willing comrade in arms. The days she saw that expression on her son’s face were the days she missed her brother the most.

Adding to Charles was always open ended: they simply never discussed it. Helena suspected Myka knew having Charles was a blessing, but was well aware of the spark of darkness within Helena. If anything happened to Charles, Helena doubted even Myka could hold her back. To add another child…

Now a consultant to the Warehouse, Helena held a non related Warehouse job as well. She was still afraid of the lure, the temptation to use artifacts no matter how many times everyone else (including the Warehouse) knew she would not.

The Regents it seemed were in agreement with her as they disapproved of her returning as an agent (despite the protests of the rest of the Warehouse team). There was the discussion of Helena becoming a Regent, but she simply didn’t want that sort of connection anymore. However, Helena did enjoy acting in a consulting capacity, and the Regents gave their approval. Helena’s expertise from situations relating to Warehouse 12 was invaluable, as well as her genius level intellect. And much to the delight of one Claudia Donovan, Helena was allowed a certain…leverage as well.

Or really, it was more of a plausible deniability on the part of the Regents. Claudia Donovan originals (or improvements for that matter) were never officially sanctioned. However, considering these inventions improved life in the Warehouse and the field (especially achieving a higher retrieval rate), Helena’s role was overlooked.

Claudia had declared working with Helena as “the most awesome of awesome”. Helena still did not understand the girl’s use of language, but understood enough to know this was a good thing. Helena was simply pleased her version of the MicroRay had saved Claudia’s pseudo father’s heart.

Afterwards, Artie’s attitude towards Helena as Claudia’s mentor softened. His gruff paternal demeanor towards anything connected with Claudia was still there but the ire towards Helena for past misdeeds had disappeared with the cravat that Helena hurting Claudia in any way, shape, or form would carry serious consequences up to and including bronzing. Helena got the message loud and clear, and felt an odd kinship with Artie as a parent.

The need to invent, to discover, to imagine, had never really left. She found that out with Nate who seemed mystified, and while not the exact cause of their relationship ending, was at the least a symptom of the cause. Emily Lake was a mask, and after the jaw bone incident, Helena G Wells started to peel the rest of the torn mask away; and that person was not someone safe enough, not someone who could be the PTA soccer mother Nate and Adelaide needed.

When Helena and Myka finally admitted their feelings, the urge intensified. It was like rediscovering a part of her she’d buried for so long and she reveled in it.

Once Helena and Myka were married, they bought a house in Univille, and between consulting for the Warehouse and inventing, Helena worked part time at the local bookstore, much to Myka’s delight. It gave Helena solace, being surrounded by literature. They were all like old friends; the smell and texture brought to mind her days in London with informal scintillating intellectual discourse in a group much like the Algonquin round table.

There was also a laboratory in the basement of their home. When she became pregnant with Charles, it was decided this must change. Helena simply bought one of the pieces of land nearby and built a laboratory, much to Claudia’s excitement.

While Helena enjoyed the computer, her love for the physicality of the written word on parchment had never ended; the feel of crisp paper between her fingers, and the smell of the ink as it dried. To Myka’s elation, the Victorian began to write again.

Eventually, Helena gained the nerve to submit a story to a science fiction magazine. Initially rejected (Myka threatened to fly to the company’s headquarters and tell them off), Helena retooled a few things, realizing her style of writing came off a bit antiquated.

At last, she had a story published, and decided to focus on a novel next. Helena loved her wife, but Myka hovering around her as she wrote proved too much. Eventually, they came to an understanding; when Helena was writing she was not to be disturbed, barring an emergency.

With that understanding, things flowed easily enough. While Helena becoming pregnant with Charles was unexpected, she was determined to not make the same mistakes she made with Christina.

One or both of them were always with Charles. During those moments when they were unable to, Uncle Pete, Aunt Claudia, Uncle Jinks, or Grandpa Artie would keep careful watch. It took a long time before Helena would even allow this; there were continual flashbacks to Christina’s death. Not just the fear, but the guilt at having left Christina with a young weak maid unable to fight off the huge men during the robbery.

At last, with time, patience, and convincing, Helena was assured her friends were capable of protecting Charles. Myka had pointed out they were all Agents, and were more than capable of shooting and fighting off intruders.

So, Helena relaxed. And with it, came the enjoyment of motherhood again; just simply the true joy of sharing things with her son.

There had been questions from Myka’s relatives (especially her mother and Tracy) over when they would add to their family. They had been convinced Charles was the result of a experimental procedure allowing two women to procreate, and the insistence to add another child intensified.

Myka at first was annoyed, but as time went on, the thought to share things with a daughter as well grew.

Charles had a lot of Wells in him, and Myka was hoping to have a child with more Bering, even if she would never admit it. Their son was never keen on athletics, and while he loved to read, his love of trains and anything mechanical, took precedence. Helena knew Myka wanted to have a child that would someday fence with her, perhaps join the debate team, and read as if the books were the very essence of life itself.

Every so often, Myka brought it up. After many nights of talking and crying about Christina, Helena was ready to try for a girl. This time, they used an artifact. As Myka put it, “we are never, ever doing it in the warehouse again!”

As Charles was considered some sort of fluke, they expected a girl this time, as “science was still science” (as Myka put it). Once Myka was pregnant, they eventually discovered they were indeed having a girl.

Myka was taken off retrievals, and while she knew it was coming, it made Myka agitated. The inventor had faced certain restrictions while pregnant but she was still able to tinker, write, and work at the bookshop. Myka wasn’t able to go out and do what she loved best: be a Warehouse Agent.

So here they were, joined by Pete and Claudia. It had just so happened there was a curiosity nearby Colorado Springs, which was snagged, bagged, and tagged in record time. Artie graciously granted Pete and Claudia an extra two days to spend in Colorado Springs. Pete was very happy to see Mrs. Bering and most especially, her cookies.

Helena’s iPhone buzzed in her pocket. It was Myka, and she would be here any minute.

“Just stop!” Helena reached over and grabbed the plush animal thing, and predictably both fussed like two little children.

“Aw, come on, HG!”

“Yeah. We haven’t settled on a name yet.”

“I don’t really care. Myka just finished at the bank, and will be here in a couple of minutes. You both know how she has reacted to your incessant teasing about that…animal…family…you seem to have created for Charles.”

Helena dimly registered the tinkle of a bell but was focused on this ridiculous conversation involving the…offspring?…of two plush animals in Charles’s room.

“I thought she liked it,” Pete lamented.

Helena’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Every time you mention it, she hits you!”

“She always hits me! How am I supposed to tell the difference?”

Helena did have to concede a point there.

“The difference between what?” Her wife said evenly behind her.

Pete’s eyes widened and he grabbed the stuffed animal thing from Helena’s grip prompting a glare from the inventor. Pete whipped the garish animal thing around his back out of sight so fast Helena would have been impressed if she wasn’t more worried about the situation at hand.

The situation called for her best charm. She sauntered over, and wrapped her arms around her wife. Whispering in her wife’s ear, Helena intensified her British accent, knowing for some reason she had never been able to understand, her accent was a turn on for Myka.

“Now, come, come my darling. Just ignore Peter. Let’s instead think about having a wonderful candlelight dinner at the Mediterranean restaurant we saw on the way into town. We can leave Charles with your parents overnight, and have a lovely dinner and return to the hotel where I can pamper and make love to you.” She softly kissed Myka’s ear. “Je vous adore, mon amour.”

Myka’s body however remained rigid, and when Helena pulled back, Myka’s face was expressionless. Drat. Not even her best seduction method was working. Helena absently wondered if she was losing her touch.

It was obvious that not only would Myka not let this pass, she would most likely yell at Pete in the store when she learned the meaning behind Pete’s statement.

But fortune smiled upon the group, as little Charles Bering-Wells and Mrs. Bering entered the store. The little boy ran to Helena, hugging her legs. His little arms reached up to be lifted into Helena’s arms.

“Mummy!”

Helena’s eyes lit up and she gave him the smile reserved only for her son. Charles was getting to the point where he was too heavy to hold for any long period of time, but Helena refused to acknowledge this. Her body however had other ideas, as she felt the strain in holding him for a length of time. Helena knew it wouldn’t be long before she had to stop (most likely a month, if she were lucky) but she was determined to make the most of this cherished ritual other parents enjoy. Christina had reached the point of being beyond this stage when she was killed, but just holding her own child in her arms again returned that joy to her heart.

Helena adjusted her arms a bit, and said, “Hello, my little engineer. Have you been having fun with your grandmother?”

Charles nodded enthusiastically, his engineer cap bobbing slightly on his head.

“Where’s your new hat, Charles?” Myka reached over to fuss with Charles’s cap, and the young boy scrunched up his nose, and wiggled so much Helena was forced to set him back on the ground.

“I want to wear this hat, Momma. Mummy said I could wear it.”

Helena cringed as Myka turned, giving her a hard look, and Helena knew she was in trouble.

“Well, Mummy seems to have forgotten that the temperature is thirty degrees outside-much too cold for wearing your engineer cap.” This statement was more for Helena’s chastisement rather than directed at their son.

“Darling, it is true I said Charles is allowed to wear it while we enjoy our time together with the trains…” she looked down at her son “I did not mean everywhere.” Her son was wearing his puppy dog face which Helena had a hard time resisting, but Helena knew Myka was right; Charles would be sick with the lack of warmth on his head, and no covering on his little ears.

Kneeling down, Helena caressed her son’s cheeks.“You know, even engineers get cold, and need the extra warmth. Besides, it would be terribly difficult to enjoy Christmas in bed. You would miss Grandpa Artie’s cookies, going caroling, decorating the tree, opening your presents under the tree, and our Christmas feast with Christmas crackers.”

A small pout was almost Helena’s undoing as she removed the engineer’s cap, smoothing down his chestnut hair. “Now, darling, they have some lovely stocking caps right over there.” Helena pointed to a display next to the cash register. “And you may pick whichever one you like.”

Helena rose, and noticed a contrite expression on her mother-in-law’s face. "I’m sorry, Myka. I couldn’t get him to put on a warmer hat before we left the house.“

"Charles, is this true?” Helena looked down at her son, frowning. “You know to obey your grandmother.”

The little boy bowed his head in shame, and then mumbled,“I’m sorry, Mummy.”

Helena sighed. “All right, no punishment this time, I suppose.” Charles looked back up at her, and smiled. “But next time this happens, young man, there will be no Thomas the Tank Engine and playing with your train set for at least a week.”

The smile dimmed, and Charles grew serious. “Yes, Mummy. I will listen to Grandmother from now on.”

“Good.” Helena nodded approvingly.

“Mom, we can take it from here.”

“What time will you be coming over for dinner?”

“Soon. I’ll give you a call,” Myka replied.

“Okay.” Mrs. Bering kissed Myka on the cheek, and glanced at Helena. “I’ll see you two later. Make sure Myka gets to the house all right, Helena.”

“Mom! I’m not an invalid. I can get myself over there just fine, thank you very much.” Myka crossed her arms, and pouted, looking very much like Charles at the moment. Helena bit her lip not to smile; Myka was adorable.

Mrs. Bering rolled her eyes. “Goodbye, Charles.”

“Goodbye, Grandmother!” Charles hugged her and then Mrs. Bering walked out the door.

“Mykes, I’m still invited to dinner, right?” Pete was wearing his best puppy dog face.

Myka sighed, relaxing her posture. “Yes, you and Claudia are both invited, like I told you.”

“Yay!” Pete cried happily, as he and Charles gave each other high fives.

“I don’t think I can deal with going over there tonight, Helena.” Myka whispered.

Helena kissed her wife’s hair. “It’s only for tonight, love. And we will most definitely be returning to the hotel later.”

At that moment, Pete demonstrated his bull in a China shop tendency, and knocked down the display of stuffed animals behind him which just happened to have more of that god awful multi colored plush animal…thing.

Various forms of Pete’s name were cried all at once.

“Pete!”

“Peter!”

“Dude!”

“Uncle Pete!”

“Whoops.” He bent over to pick up the animals while Claudia began to reorganize the display.

“Don’t worry, Mykes and H.G., we got it. No problemo.” Claudia said, waving off the clerk who was set to come over. “Sorry about that!” She called, and smiled at the clerk, who seemed to hesitate, but was interrupted by a customer ready to pay.

A quick glance at her wife revealed Myka with closed eyes trying to regulate her breathing. Helena placed her hand on Myka’s back, rubbing soothing circles through her coat, and was very thankful Myka didn’t push her away.

Opening her eyes, Myka leaned into Helena, who just wrapped her arm around her wife. It was time to go home. Just as Helena was about to open up her mouth and relay just that, her son exclaimed, “Mummy, look! This animal looks like both you and momma!”

The little boy grinned as he held up the prized ghastly thing.

Myka didn’t answer. Helena saw a mix of confusion and incredulousness on her face.

“Charles, darling-” Helena began.

“Told ya!” Pete smiled wide at Helena as he pranced a bit in place and Helena feared another accident.

Helena felt Myka’s back grow rigid again, and she withdrew from Helena’s touch. Helena internally sighed. Why must Pete be so…Pete?!

“What the hell are you talking about, Pete? That-that thing does not look like us.”

Undeterred, their son informed, “It looks like the Great Joraffe and the Unicorn Queen mixed up together.”

Helena feared Myka would blow a gasket, but then Charles continued, “It’s like me being a mix of you and Mummy!”

Helena immediately sensed Myka’s body relax and thought she heard sniffles.

“Myka, darling, are you coming down with a cold?”

Myka turned, causing Helena to only hear a muffled answer. Her wife drew out of her pocket a Kleenex, and blew her nose while still sniffling.

Charles tugged on Myka’s coat. “Are you sick, Momma?”

He sounded so concerned and sweet it was no wonder Myka turned back and bending down slightly to hug him close to her legs, kissing his dark hair.

“No, no, baby, I’m fine. Momma is just a little…out of sorts today.”

Charles raised his head to stare at Myka with worried wide eyes. “Why are you out of sorts?”

“Um…it’s just sometimes when women are pregnant, it gets hard to control their emotions.”

“Does this mean you won’t be able to have Christmas with us?”

Helena decided to take control of the situation as Myka appeared to be on the verge of losing it again.

Leaning down, Helena looked her son in the eyes. “Momma will be just fine, Charles. Now, be a good boy, and go find which hat you would like to wear. After that, we will all go back to Grandmother Bering’s house, and have hot chocolate.”

Glancing one more time at his momma, Charles withdrew slowly from Myka’s grasp. “Okay, Mummy.”

Helena smiled and then instructed, “Hand Claudia the plush toy to return to the display before you leave.”

Claudia jumped in, and held her hand out, saying,“Come on, Charlie. Let’s put this animal back on the shelf, and go over to the hats. I bet we can find one you will totally rock.”

When Claudia and Charles were over perusing the hats, Pete tried to make his escape. “You know, there is this new restaurant I saw open in the next town over. I’m gonna go get the car, and then Claud can meet me outside when her and Charlie are done.”

Myka laid her hand on his arm. “Pete, it’s okay. I’m sorry. I’m just tired.”

“It’s okay, Mykes.” He grinned sheepishly.

“I know you meant the best…in your own way.” Then she added, “But that animal thing-” she pointed at the garish toy “does not look like-like-”

Pete grinned widely.“The spawn of the Great Joraffe and the Unicorn Queen?”

Helena scoffed, while Myka pinched her nose. He grabbed the plush animal again, and once more did a (admittedly more subtle) dance with the thing.

“Pete! Fine! You can give it to him for Christmas.” Myka gave in.

"Yippee!”

“Just put it back, and come in later to buy it please.” Myka glanced at Helena who was rolling her eyes.

Helena sucked in a breath, and conceded, mumbling, “Righty ho, then.”

Pete grinned widely at Helena. She shook her head at his enthusiasm, knowing he really did have a good heart.

“Now, if you will excuse me, I think it’s time to buy Charles’s hat, so we can leave.”

“Agreed,” Myka responded, and Helena was pleased to see the smile on Myka’s face.

Walking towards Charles, Helena called, “Have you found a hat, my little man?”

Holding up a hat with the craziest, most obnoxious design Helena had ever seen, he exclaimed happily, “Yes, Mummy!”

Helena closed her eyes, and wondered if this day would ever end.

—–

It was the beginning of February with Christmas long since over.

The snow softly fell in the chilly dark night, while inside Charles’s bedroom, Helena tucked her son into his warm bed with Thomas the Tank Engine sheets and comforter.

“Mummy, read the story to me again.”

“Which story, darling?” Helena asked.

“The one about the giraffe unicorn.”

“You mean 'Unicorn Giraffe’?”

“Yes. That one.”

“All right.” She walked over to the windowseat where the book rested next to the Great Joraffe, the Unicorn Queen with a rainbow mane, and a garish plush toy sporting a tiny engineer cap fashioned by Claudia.

“Mummy, can you bring Choo Choo Joraffe Jr. too?” Charles asked in a sleepy voice.

Helena rolled her eyes, but did as asked. Bringing it over with the book, she commented, “Have you considered a nickname, Charles? 'Choo Choo Joraffe Jr.’ is rather a mouth full.”

Charles happily accepted the offered toy, and hugged it fiercely to his chest.

“No, Mummy. Choo Choo Joraffe Jr. is his name.”

Helena internally sighed, but looking at her son so happy with the little plush animal thing softened her feelings.

“All right, my darling. Choo Choo Joraffe Jr. it is then.”

He grinned.

“Now scoot over, so I can come onto your bed and read the story.”

Charles happily complied, and Helena crawled up to lean against the headboard, book in hand. As Charles snuggled into her side, she opened the book, and began.

“It was in a land called Lemony a place faraway from where we are now where only friends of the Aftertime could visit.”

As Helena read the story, she felt at peace, full of happiness and love, emotions she never expected to find again.

—–

The story finished and Charles fast asleep, Helena gently extricated herself from her son’s grip and rose from the bed.

She kissed his tiny head, whispering, “Sweet dreams, my little lamb.”

Helena replaced the book 'Unicorn Giraffe’ on the windowseat, and as she closed the bedroom door, she mused, wondering how such a little garish plush animal thing could bring so much so much happiness.

Maybe she should listen to Uncle Pete more often.

#Bering and wells #The Spawn of the Great Joraffe and the Unicorn Queen #my fic #so very much fluff #myka bering #helena wells

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confessions-of-a-former-fat-guy · 8 years ago

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Confession 17: Tales of a hopeless jokester.

I've written a lot about how getting healthier and more fit has increased my confidence. I've mentioned the benefits of having more confidence at a high level. How it's helped me in my personal life. How it's helped in my professional life. It's made an incredible difference in my life. It wasn't until recently I realized the biggest impact confidence has had on my life.

I know this has been mostly a fitness, health, and sometimes motivational blog, but I'm going to deviate from the norm and gush about my relationship for a bit. Somehow I'll wind this thing back around to some fitness and good clean eating. Or I won't. Deal with it.

If you were to look back at my life over the past 12 or 13 years (I wouldn't suggest it, I'm incredibly boring) you wouldn't see much dating. Or any really. As previously documented, I wasn't exactly in any shape to be dating. Not physically. Not mentally. Not emotionally. Not financially. So, I pretty much took myself out of the “game”(eye roll). At least that's what I told myself to make myself feel like I wasn't the most unappealing human on the face of the Earth. For years I felt sorry for myself. I watched my friends meet people and get married. I was constantly asking myself why not me? Well, the answer was simple. I was an extremely overweight, underachieving, mopey, miserable sack of flesh. I was no good for anyone, including myself. Shit. Especially myself.

It wasn't until I did something about the things I hated about myself that I felt like I could even entertain the idea of dating. How do you dive into that pool after standing outside the fence watching for more than a decade, though? How do you fight the urge to let old thoughts in? How the hell do you even talk to a girl? I didn't have answers to any of the hundred questions that swirled in my head. So, after months of refusing the suggestions of my friends, I tried the online thing. I made a profile with what wasn't nearly as witty of a title as I thought it was at the time. I uploaded pictures taken at flattering angles. And I answered the 9000 word questionnaire created to find me my perfect mate based on a completely made up compatibility algorithm. WEEEEE!!!!

All I'm going to say about the online thing is that it wasn't for me. I will never deny my old fashioned nature. It just feels unnatural to start a relationship with someone you never would have met without technology or the fact that you both like dogs and nice weather. (DISCLAIMER: EVERYONE LIKES DOGS AND NICE WEATHER. THIS IS NOT THE BASIS FOR A LASTING RELATIONSHIP)

So I jumped that ship and focused on other things. I started CrossFit. I buckled down at work. I wasn't avoiding dating or trying to date. It just seemed like there were other things I should be spending my energy on for the time being. It's also entirely possible I wasn't nearly as ready for dating as I thought I was. There was (is) still a lot of working on me that needed to take place first. So that's what I did. I busted my ass at work, then I busted my ass at the gym. I did this for months. Incredibly, things started falling into place little by little. Promotions and PRs were becoming the norm. I started gaining more and more of the confidence stuff I keep talking about. Things were as good as they could be...or so I thought.

The funny thing about “as good as it gets” is that it can always get better. We may not think so at the time, but life has an interesting way of surprising us when we least expect it. My moment came on a hot day in July on a random Tuesday afternoon at the gym. There wasn't anything extraordinary about that day. I went to work, then headed to CrossFit just like any other day. The second I walked into the box from the entrance everything changed. I've told this story to people before. About how I heard her before I saw her, which is true. That laugh that's grown to be one of the things that gives me life rang through the gym. Once I heard it I followed it to the source. There standing in the corner was this tiny thing that couldn't be much over five feet tall (exactly five feet tall it turns out). She had the biggest, most beautiful smile I've ever seen. She was one of those girls that no matter what room you walk into, she's where your eyes are going to go first...and if you're like me, that's where they'll stop. She was friendly, energetic, beautiful.

I tried real hard to act like I barely noticed her. I can't show my hand this early in the game, right? (I have no idea what I'm talking about). I did my best to warm up like it was just another day at the gym. Eventually, though, I found myself introducing myself. Now, I have to hit pause here. She will tell you I told her I'm “the jokester of the class”. I have no recollection of this and I can guarantee my best friend would have destroyed me for using the word “jokester”, which has never come out of my mouth in my entire life, but I digress. She was likely in much more of a sound mental state at the time, so I'll give her this one. Anyway, that was about it for that day. I can write words all day, but when it comes to face to face conversation with the most beautiful girl I've ever seen in my life the words don't come quite as easy.

I didn't see her again for quite a while. It wasn't for lack of trying, though. This next part may SEEM a little creepy, but let's just write it off as a boy just trying really hard to put himself in front of a girl he couldn't get out of his head. I found myself altering my work schedule to try to go to the same classes I thought she'd be at. No luck, though. So I employed the services of a friend's wife who said she was sometimes in her class to maybe drop my name or get insider info. (This is the part I like to think of as romantic instead of creepy). Much to my chagrin, I kept striking out. Then one day I got a notification on my phone that someone started following me on Instagram, so I checked it out.

IT. WAS. HER!

You know those moments in movies where they say they had to pinch themselves to see if they were dreaming? Well, that's still bull. Nobody has ever really done that. BUT, if they did, this would have been one of those moments for me. I totally kept my cool, though. I definitely didn't run through the house dancing like Tom Cruise in Risky Business. Nope. I mean, I'm 32.

I waited a while before I followed her back because, you know, guy code or whatever bullshit dudes try to convince themselves is a thing so they feel cool. Before long, though, we were messaging each other, joking around. I AM the jokester after all. Then, as luck would have it, we found ourselves in the same CrossFit class a couple weeks later. I ignore my instincts to hide inside myself or my inherent male instinct to play it cool. Anyone who knows me knows I don't play it cool. Instead, I did the thing that would normally be scariest. I talked to her. That's right, boys and girls. I talked to a beautiful girl. And thank God I did because shortly after I got home I had a new message waiting for me on Instagram. “I don't want to seem forward, but would you want to exchange numbers?”

Uhh. Yeah. I do. I really fucking want to do that thing you just asked me.

My first text to her was asking her to dinner. See, kiddos. Confidence. 28 year old me never would have asked. 29 year old me never would have talked to her. 30 year old me never would have considered a girl like that could ever even be the slightest bit interested in me. 31 year old me would have thrown up and never gone back to CrossFit. 32 year old me isn't any of those old mes, though. 32 year old me knows himself. 32 year old me knows what he wants. 32 year old me knows he deserves more than he ever considered. 32 year old me knows when he's used the third person way too many times. That all came with confidence.

That girl and I went on that date. And then another and another and another. That girl and I spent days together. That girl and I fell in love. That girl and I are making plans for OUR future.

This is all still very new to me. For most of my life I never thought I could be any good for anyone. Now I know I had to endure the hard years, put in A LOT of work, and become the man I am today to be ready for the RIGHT girl when she came around. And I was ready. And I am the man I need to be for her. I am the man I need to be to make sure she always has everything she needs to be happy. I am the man I need to be for ME to be happy. And I'm SO ready for everything that will come.

None of this would have happened if I hadn't made healthy changes to my life. Changes that are still taking place every single day. The idea is to always get better. Get better for you. Get better for someone you love. Get better for your future. Get better for your today. Just KEEP getting better. Become that person you don't think you can be. Get the girl or boy you never thought you could.

Trust me. Any amount of effort it takes is SO SO worth it. If you question that, look at the smile I can't peel off my face. That should be proof enough.

#paleo #weight #health #healthy #crossfit #love #confession #confidence #fat #fitness #life

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winstonhcomedy · 6 years ago

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How’d Winston Do Last Night? 10/4/18

WOOOOO WEEEEE laydees! Last night was a shindig and a half. Honestly it might rank up as a hootenanny if I’m going to be bold.

I haven’t been able to hit many open mics in Richmond lately. I’ve been out of town and booked which is a good problem to have. But since I was in town I went and hit up the open mic at Penny Lane Pub hosted by my buddy James Isaiah Muñoz. I picked up my boy Alex Castagne and we headed over.

It was a fun mic. Not a ton of audience but all the comics there were some of my favorites. Got to shoot the shit with a bunch of good dudes and chicks before the show. Got to catch up with Rick Williams, Bryan Williams, Jesse Pearlstein, Patrick Buhs (runs mojos open mic, and the locker room), Kate Carroll, Kat Malone, Mike Engle (runs Castleburg Brewery and a cohost for Sticky Rice), Big Scotty, and Mu Cuzzo who are all active members of the rva comedy scene.

I was up second and Alex was up third. The plan was to do our time and dip out since I had to wake up hella early for work, and it honestly has been a draining week at the ole day job.

Best part of the night by far was Bryan Williams set. Bryan is a newer dude and he had earlier talked about how he had had a killer booked show the night before. So watching him go up first on the open mic and watch him feel the stark contrast between a killer booked show and an open mic was amazing. He checked his watch a half dozen times, and it was definitely the hardest I laughed all night. He’s a good egg.

I went up with he gamelan of doing new/unfinished stuff. Which I have to make myself do more. I’ve been in a huge writing funk lately, and the only thing that will pull me out is just doing new shit at a show. So I did about 7 minutes all newer stuff.

It’s weird because most of what I did was shorter jokes and that is not usually how my mind works. Some of the ideas got some pretty good responses, and I know what to change and where to take them now. I’m excited to see if some of the premises blossom into longer bits, because I am definitely not a one liner comic. My memory is too shit for that.

I finally got a joke about bowling to work that I had tried as a line in another joke like a half dozen times. I finally figured out the punch when I was riffing with Alex before the set. I had a few good ideas about racism/racists that I just need to hash out, fix the wording, and expand.

Then I started talking about this snake venom guy I’m obsessed with. I know that bit is going to end up being longer, but even the two minutes I did I realized didn't have many punches. It was interesting but I need to cram more laughs in so I can get to the meat of the story.

All in all it was a productive open mic set, and the step in the right direction. I’d give my set for the room and my expectations a C+.

Next up was Alex. For the room Alex had a pretty hot set. He got good responses for his bits and ideas. The only idea that didn’t get much at all was the one he was proudest of and most excited to tell. Which I can attest is one of the worst things in comedy. It’ll be dope to see him expand that idea, and eventually make it work.

After the sets we dipped out and I dropped Alex off. It was a good night for comedy. Even not killing I felt good like I had done my job, and it wasn’t too late so I actually got a good night’s sleep. THANK GOD.

This weekend will be interesting because I’ve got between six and seven shows in DC depending on how quickly I can jet from venue to venue. I hope they go well since one is at a club I haven’t really worked before and it would be nice to have a hot set and by association a new room I can get booked in. So until then have a good one laydees!

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geek-gem · 7 years ago

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The Teen Titans Go The Movies Teaser Trailer

Just saying I made this on Deviantart and saying my thoughts on here now. As of now Angel your username sorry to mention you changed well I retyped the first mention of your username since it wouldn't work with the a thing or even just putting a different a so yeah here's me talking

"Now here weeeee.....go" - The Joker from The Dark Knight.(I'm on the paragraph where it's about the comments)

That is well honestly the best way to title this and just...I'm gonna copy and paste this one Tumblr also here's the video. Which I tried to make sure I found the same one from @angel-baez had linked.

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=p4HrpCPquk4

Including just I'll tell you this. I didn't watch it earlier because was on my laptop doing other stuff like FilmJunkee videos, eating Me N Ed's pizza, watching OK KO, but mainly watching Markiplier play Doom 2016 in some parts which is just lovely to watch. Because playing the game myself just...it makes me happy. But back to the topic.

You know I don't really talk about Teen Titans Go and just yeah I don't like the show. Including I haven't seen this podcast yet I don't watch him anymore. But this podcast by Pan Pizza talking about how even talking negatively about the show still makes people aware of it.

I'm thinking I feel like yeah I don't try to talk about it. So I wouldn't give any attend to the series. Including seeing episodes the past few months when I leave Cartoon Network I try to avoid even having the show on now seeing certain episodes and just yeah. This goes for Uncle Grandpa too these past few days sorry off topic.

Honestly even if I'm not the biggest fan of the original show. I do like it, and as a DCEU and DC a bit I want the Teen Titans in the DCEU.

Yet just......you know I want to be detailed yet I feel I can't. Because it's mainly a teaser but you can still be critical of it. Including I'm gonna reblog a post where I watched this trailer at.

Will tell you this and spoiling a surprise the part with Wonder Woman no she's not in there I mean them wearing costumes. Including seeing that I think I could tell this was because of the massive success Wonder Woman was and I enjoyed that movie too. Yet sad when they say Wonder Woman inspires people when....I think I'm looking at it the wrong way. I was thinking of Superman and he inspires people what about him.

That's off topic. But yeah that part made me smiled just the rest. So the animation like they said in this reblog I'll reblog it's still the same. Despite it looks a bit more theatrical in some way. But not as of like the latest MLP movie or even SpongeBob movies. Or any sort of movie based upon a TV series.

Including remembered this now I've read the comments well the first page. Also forgot that quote I even quoted yesterday because just the incoming wave of hate the film is gonna get in the comments. Basically from another post I reblogged from Angel.

But yeah theirs hate and even some hate on the DCEU just seriously why even here. Including this year when we have this we have Aquaman which seems to be narly yet including that mention and appearance of Aquaman I feel is to reference yes theirs gonna be a Aquaman movie. Including the sad idea of why in the hell does a movie like this exist.

Including might as well get to this part. I remember talking about this in another reblog sorry I'm on Tumblr a lot. Theirs this idea or dream or hope that when the film comes out. The intense hatred is gonna be quite much, reviews are very negative. Including a box office bomb you know I sound stupid oh head thinking a movie deserves that crap.

But considering....I mean here's the thing. While I have been overjoyed to see shit like easter eggs in this show as a DC fan. Yet Teen Titans Go as a show oh head don't be nice to it or just it sucks. Including just....the kind of show it is. While I'm okay with the Powerpuff Girls reboot and Ben 10 reboot. Despite the road to the PPG reboot that Craig wasn't alright with it and not getting the original voice actresses while I'm okay with the new ones.

But Teen Titans Go as a show and I would of been fine with the show. If the writers and just overall creators didn't do things that honestly bothered me. Including of what I've read and even see.

As of now my brother was in my room or just honestly nothing serious when I think about it. Just he was testing my patience and me even telling him that and even me saying I was checking a text and him trying to close the door without using his hands or handle what the fuck.

Sorry and heard his door closed he's in his room now and everything's okay even me saying sorry just in case.

But looking at my last paragraph about the show. Honestly Teen Titans Go could of been just a silly show okay some parody but a sillier version of the original show. That didn't need out right insult it's audiences or just make it's audience seem like a dumbass. Along with really douchey moments.

The show could of been this cute thing with it's own cult following with it's own fans. That was less serious then the original but it's own silly thing. Including some nice little stuff like those easter eggs I've mentioned.

But instead we have a mean spirited show created by people who never seen the original show. That make certain episodes that just bother me quite a bit.

Including they just don't care.

Along with I'm just wondering if the outcry of hatred against the show is gonna be heard by the likes of shit like Collider which is also a bullshit channel, and other sort just....even reviewers surprised. Basically this idea no one knows their was this huge hatred until now. Which would sound weird as fuck if any of these people didn't know.

Honestly this weird idea like I hope certain cartoons I like aren't discovered or talked about by certain people or channels or whatever.

Yet hey would love to hear and see FilmJunkee's views on it along with Film Gob, and Chris Wong Swenson too. Maybe Jeremy Jahns been a while since I've watched him.

Basically I'm just wondering and I'm okay with Rotten Tomatos and I want to make my own opinions about movies. Despite I do look at it of what that score that shouldn't be fucking controlling over some God damn movies. Or just the amount of movies were getting.

Yet just to see what others might think but I would want to make my own opinion. Instead of relying of what others have to say.

I'm just so interested of how this is gonna get affected by those God damn tomatoes including even thought that might help in the favor. Yet I'm sounding hypocritical.

Seriously I'm not the biggest fan of Teen Titans and I don't care for this show despite I don't like it. Maybe just going deep into it and thinking about it more. Along with the idea it's getting a actual fucking movie. Including this worse thought imagine if the reviews are positive and how they might be towards certain DCEU films or the DCEU in general.

I'm sorry or fuck it but it's a show now don't like I dislike it greatly just thinking about it when typing this. Including I'm not gonna tag this because of fear of backlash but people will find it still honestly. I just wanted to share my opinion on both sites on Deviantart and Tumblr.

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