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ikkyfics · 6 days ago

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anatomy

Dave Lizewski x f!reader

Summary: “Dave, I can study on you.” He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. “What?” “Your muscles,” you explained, already trailing your fingertips over his chest, feeling the subtle tension beneath the skin. “Every single one in the right place. Perfect.”

Warnings: est. relationship, college!dave, college!reader, nomenclature of some (many) muscles, reader is a health area student, suggestive, language, no use of y/n

A/N: a special thanks to my dear lovely @gingerteafairy who encouraged me to post this, i love you a million times <333

You never thought Batman could have such poorly placed muscles. Shit, it was a total disrespect to such an incredible character. If Christian Bale saw that—he wouldn’t care in the slightest, but you did. Who cares if the damn doll was cheap? It wouldn’t have cost much to at least put some muscles in the right place.

Look at this oblique, you thought in disgust. It was completely ridiculous.

At least the facial muscles didn’t require too much effort to pin down. Even if it took some—okay, a lot of—imagination to actually mark each one. For a cheap doll, the plastic was sturdy enough to leave your poor fingers sore.

“I hate this,” you muttered, dropping the doll and sighing dramatically before resting your face on the table, carefully avoiding the scattered pins.

Dave, sitting beside you, smiled. He was used to your little dramatics, and he liked seeing your pouty lips; he liked biting them even more. “What happened, lovie?” he asked sweetly, leaning in to take a look at the mess on the table.

He had come straight to your house after class—tuesday study sessions were sacred. Even if, most of the time, studying was the last thing you two did. He tried, he really did, to focus on the calculations he had to do, but before he knew it, you were already pressed against him. Soft and pliant, whispering sweet nothings in his ear. What kind of boyfriend would he be if he didn’t dedicate his full attention to you?

But today unfolded differently. You were completely immersed in the project one of your professors had assigned: label 100 muscles on a doll—a fun, interactive way to optimize learning. Dave had found you in your room muttering things like flexor hallucis longus, masseter, vastus while clutching a Batman doll, with countless pins scattered across your bed. To be honest, it was a little scary. Not as much as the demonic images from Netter’s spread open on your shelf, but still unsettling.

“The thing is,” you lifted the doll with evident disdain, “this doesn’t have a single muscle in the right place. How am I supposed to label the soleus if it’s in the wrong spot? It’s impossible, impossible.”

Dave frowned, studying the figure. He had no idea which tiny bump was supposed to be a soleus.

“And I really need the grade for this project,” you whined, covering your face with your hands and letting out a dramatic sigh. “I need this grade, Dave.”

“Hey,” he said, gently pulling your hands away. When you didn’t look at him, he held your chin between his thumb and forefinger, lifting your face. “Of course, you’re going to get this grade. You’re the smartest person I know.”

“Dave, don’t—”

“Listen to me,” he cut you off, his voice carrying that soft tone that always made your heart skip a beat.

Dave wasn’t the type to impose his words, but when he wanted to make sure you really listened, his voice carried a different weight. He wasn’t just saying pretty things—he meant them.

You felt his fingers slide behind your ear, tucking loose strands of hair away from your face. His thumb traced a brief path across your cheek before settling under your chin, keeping your gaze locked on his.

“You’re the smartest person I know,” he repeated, quieter now. “And I know Todd. Todd once explained String Theory to me while drinking a Pepsi.”

A short laugh escaped you, but the frustration still sat heavy in your stomach.

“Dave, this isn’t funny,” you sighed, letting your forehead drop against his chest.

“Not at all,” he agreed immediately, sliding a hand to your waist and squeezing gently. “But I also know you’re not going to lose this grade.”

You felt him lean down slightly, his nose brushing against the top of your head before his arms wrapped around you completely. A firm embrace, without hesitation. As if, just for that moment, he could carry the weight of the world for you.

And that was when your body finally relaxed for the first time in hours. You closed your eyes and exhaled slowly, taking in every detail of him around you. Dave was warm—he always was—and his body was solid against yours, firm and safe. You adjusted yourself closer, arms slipping around him until your hands found his back.

And that’s when your brain short-circuited.

Because as your fingers traced over his shoulders, down his arms, you felt—

Muscles.

Trapezius. Rhomboid. Biceps. Brachialis. Anconeus.

With every new discovery, you whispered their names without even realizing it. Just feeling them, each one in the right place, perfectly aligned. Unlike the deformed, infuriating doll tossed on your desk.

Dave furrowed his brows. “Are you… whispering spells? Because I was just trying to help, but—”

Your hands were on his shirt before he could finish the sentence.

“Dave.”

“Yeah?”

“Take it off.”

He blinked, completely lost. “What?”

Your patience was already running thin.

“The shirt.”

Dave looked at you for a moment, as if trying to understand what exactly was happening, but, well, you were asking him to take his shirt off. And if there was one thing he wasn’t about to do, it was question miracles.

So, with one last curious glance, he obeyed.

And when the fabric hit the floor, you just stood there, staring. Lips slightly parted as your eyes trailed up and down his body.

“Jesus,” you breathed, running a hand down your face, as if scolding yourself for not thinking of this sooner.

“Is that good or bad?”

“This is the best thing that could have happened.”

Dave blinked a few times. “Wow. I didn’t even do anything.”

“Dave, I can study on you.”

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. “What?”

“Your muscles,” you explained, already trailing your fingertips over his chest, feeling the subtle tension beneath the skin. “Every single one in the right place. Perfect.”

And that’s how you ended up on his lap.

Dave wasn’t entirely sure how it happened—but honestly, he wasn’t complaining. One moment you were fuming over a misshapen Batman, and the next, you were fully engrossed in your own private anatomy study, straddling him, fingers tracing slow, delicate paths down his arms.

He could feel the warmth of your skin against his, a delicious contrast to the cool night breeze slipping through the window. You had said you needed to focus, and he had promised to stay still. But damn, it was hard.

Very hard.

Because for Dave, there was nothing more attractive than seeing you like this—so immersed in it, lips slightly pursed, eyes focused. You murmured the names of muscles as you ran your fingertips over them, and he felt each one respond to your touch. It was almost comical how something as simple as you studying for your class could drive him this insanely affected.

He already knew you were brilliant. He knew you took college seriously and that when you were focused, the rest of the world disappeared. But he wasn’t prepared for how… hot that could be.

Dave felt the corner of his mouth tug into a distracted smile, but it was enough to make you stop.

“Dave,” you scolded, your voice low but firm.

He blinked at you. “What?”

“Stay still.”

“I am still.”

“You smiled.”

“That doesn’t count,” he argued, a grin playing on his lips.

You sighed, but he caught the way your eyes sparkled, and, well, that was when he knew you weren’t exactly immune to this either.

Slowly, your fingers trailed up to his face. You held his chin, your eyes studying every detail with an almost reverent patience.

“Here,” you began, your voice lower now, as if you were about to reveal a secret, a finger tracing a line beside his mouth, “is where the risorius muscle is.”

Before he could ask what the hell that meant, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss there, right at the corner of his mouth.

Dave felt his breath falter at the pressure of your lips against his skin.

And then you kept going.

“And here,” your lips brushed his cheek, right where his smile was still fighting to hold on, “is the zygomaticus major.”

He swallowed hard.

You pulled back just enough to look at him again, your fingers still holding his face.

“Hm?” he managed to murmur, because, honestly, his brain was already running on safety mode.

You smiled.

“The masseter,” you whispered, kissing his jawline, your lips sliding along its sharp edge.

He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling a shiver run down his spine.

“Temporalis,” you continued, pushing his curls from his face before leaning in, your lips grazing his temple now.

Dave swore he had never been more interested in anatomy in his entire life.

He opened his eyes when you looked at him again, and for a moment, all he could do was admire you. Your eyes were darker under the soft glow of the lamp, your lips slightly flushed, and the expression on your face was somewhere between concentration and amusement.

“Are you learning anything, Lizewski?”

He smiled slowly.

“More than you think.”

You smiled back but didn’t answer. You didn’t need to.

Your fingers traced the line of his jaw, a touch that was both gentle and intentional. You could feel every tiny irregularity on Dave’s skin—the defined contour, the almost imperceptible roughness of the stubble beginning to grow, the subtle tension in his muscles as he watched you. His gaze was heavy now, an intense blue that gleamed under the dim light of the room, and his glasses had slipped down his nose slightly, as they always did when he was too distracted to bother adjusting them.

His hands, which had slipped under your shirt, moved slowly, fingertips gliding over your waist as if memorizing every inch of skin. The touch wasn’t rushed or hesitant—it was firm, as if he wanted you to feel exactly what he was doing. As if he wanted to burn it into your skin.

You didn’t stop him.

Instead, you leaned even closer into him, the warmth of your bodies mixing in the room’s thick air, and lifted Dave’s chin with two fingers, forcing him to tilt his head back. His breath came out heavy, warm, and you felt the way the muscle in his neck tensed under your touch.

Your fingers slid over it, pressing right where the skin was thin enough to feel the rapid pulse of his heart. It was better than any music.

“The sternocleidomastoid,” you murmured, your voice low, laced with something that made Dave swallow hard. “It tilts and rotates the head…” Your fingers pressed a little more, your nail lightly dragging against his skin. “…and it’s also the muscle responsible for stiff necks.”

His eyes were locked onto you now, half-lidded, and for a second, he didn’t say anything. He just breathed.

“This is supposed to be a lesson?” Dave asked, his voice slow, slightly hoarse.

“Maybe,” you whispered. “But there’s one more thing.”

Before he could respond, your lips touched his neck—a slow, warm kiss, just enough to make him hold his breath. But you didn’t stop there.

Your lips parted against his skin, and you sucked lightly, deliberately, feeling the way his body tensed beneath you. The hands that had merely been resting on your waist gripped tighter, his fingers pressing into your skin, and you heard a breathy sigh escape Dave’s lips—low, drawn-out, almost a moan he tried to hold back but failed.

You pulled away slowly, satisfied with the mark you had left there, clearly visible against his fair skin.

His eyes were dark now, his chest rising and falling unevenly, and when he tried to say something, you just smiled, running your fingers softly over the fresh mark, feeling the warmth still pulsing there.

"Did I mention it's also the perfect muscle for love bites?" you asked, your voice all innocent but your eyes saying something completely different.

Dave blinked, clearly still trying to process whatever had just happened.

“Definitely not,” he managed to say, his voice rougher than before.

Your fingers continued their almost involuntary path, slowly sliding down Dave’s exposed chest, tracing over his warm skin, feeling the texture, the tension beneath your fingertips. Your gaze was fixed on the path your hands were making, as if you were studying every small muscle contraction, every tiny involuntary movement happening beneath your palm.

His abdomen rose and fell in an uneven rhythm as your fingers traced the defined planes, the skin shifting subtly under your touch. You followed the natural lines of his muscles, outlining them with almost surgical precision—the well-defined rectus abdominis, the softly sculpted obliques. He was strong, not in an exaggerated way, but in a way that made sense, as if every muscle existed to fulfill its function perfectly.

And, damn, he was beautiful.

It wasn’t the first time you had seen him like this, exposed under your meticulous attention, but familiarity didn’t make it any less hypnotic. On the contrary. It was like revisiting a favorite book and always finding something new between the lines, a detail you had missed the last time.

But watching wasn’t enough.

Your body knew that before your mind could even fully form the thought. Your lips found his skin without hesitation, at first just a chaste kiss, the mere promise of a touch. But the promise shattered too quickly. You pressed your lips against the warmth of his chest, feeling the way his muscles reacted to your touch.

Dave let out a sigh, a low sound that reverberated beneath your mouth, and you felt every minute response of his body as if conducting a real-time experiment. The way his abdomen tensed when your tongue traced a lazy path over his skin. The way his fingers tightened around your hip when your warm breath spread over his collarbone.

You knew the name of every structure moving beneath your lips.

The pectoralis major, firm under your hand when you held him, subtly contracting as your lips followed the path of the muscle fibers. The serratus anterior, tensing involuntarily as your fingers ghosted over his sides. The rectus femoris, which you felt harden beneath your hips as he adjusted under you, pressing you more firmly onto his lap.

Your fingers traveled downward, tracing the contour of his obliques until they met a line that always made you hold your breath. The transversus abdominis. The deepest muscle, the one holding everything together, the pathway to paradise that defined his body in a way that was almost criminal. You felt Dave tense beneath you, a rougher sigh slipping past his lips.

“Shit…” he exhaled, his voice low, and you smiled against his skin, your lips brushing lightly before placing a kiss right there, where the muscle still pulsed under your touch.

“I like this one,” you confessed, completely shameless, and felt his hands tighten around your waist as an involuntary response.

“I noticed,” Dave retorted, trying to sound casual but failing miserably when you pressed another kiss there, just to watch him react again.

The power you had over him was intoxicating.

And maybe that’s why you leaned in, unhurried, your mouth wandering over his abdomen, each kiss a new form of teasing. Dave was no longer just an anatomical study under your hands; he was alive, pulsing, a mess of heavy sighs and contracted muscles.

“You know you’re killing me, right?” he murmured, his voice laced with breathless laughter.

You lifted your gaze, your fingers still tracing the path your mouth had traveled. “I’m just studying.”

Dave let out a low sound, almost a suppressed groan, and you felt it when he finally gave up pretending any kind of resistance. His hands traveled up your back, firm and warm against your skin, and before you could anticipate his next move, he pulled you up.

His lips found yours with almost desperate precision, and you felt your own body dissolve into the exact pressure of the kiss, the perfect fit between the two of you.

He pulled back just enough for you to feel the warm breath against your mouth, for his eyes to capture the sharp gleam in yours.

“My turn,” he murmured, his fingers gliding up your waist, deliberately slow. “If you get to study me, I think it’s only fair I do the same.”

You didn’t have time to respond before he flipped your positions, proving that those muscles weren’t just for show, his body firm against yours, his mouth leaving a heated trail down the side of your neck. His lips brushed over the delicate curve, and you felt his breath grow heavier against your skin as he smiled, his fingers teasing the hem of your shirt. A firm touch, unhurried.

He wanted to savor this.

The fabric lifted slowly, the tips of his fingers tracing every inch of newly exposed skin, as if he were memorizing the path. You felt your own body react, a shiver running up your spine.

And then, your shirt slid down your arms and was discarded.

"You know the Fibonacci sequence is present in everything?" he asked, his voice low, like he was sharing a secret. "In the universe, in art… in the human body."

The shiver came before you even fully processed his words, your brain struggling to keep up with both the way his hands were exploring your body and the fact that he was talking about the Fibonacci Sequence.

Dave noticed. Of course he did.

He lifted his gaze, barely concealing his satisfaction, and let his fingers trail from the curve of your hip to the center of your abdomen, the touch so light it made you hold your breath.

He shouldn’t have been surprised. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen you like this, and yet, something in his eyes, in the way they slowly traveled down your body, betrayed how utterly stunned he was.

You found yourself unable to say anything. The silence between you was electric, thick with everything that didn’t need to be spoken.

He was the first to break it.

"The Fibonacci spiral can be found in the shape of the eyes, the length of the bones, even in the proportions of the lips…" His voice was barely a whisper, his mouth hovering over yours without kissing you, as if giving you time to absorb every word. "But honestly?" He traced the outline of your lips with his thumb. "I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything follow that pattern as perfectly as you."

The air caught in your throat.

The intensity in his gaze left you unable to think, to form any coherent response. You tried—really, you did. But then Dave leaned in and pressed his lips to yours again, this time with a purpose that made your entire body forget any anatomical concept that had ever existed.

"You have no idea how attractive you sound when you talk like that," you murmured, your voice lower than you intended.

The corner of his mouth curved, slow. Almost dangerous.

"Like what?"

You swallowed hard. "Like… you’re analyzing me and liking what you see."

Dave let out a low, husky laugh, the sound vibrating against your skin as he leaned in, his lips hovering just a breath away from yours.

"I'm not analyzing," he corrected, his hands sliding up your back, fingers tracing the warmth of your skin as if trying to commit every curve to memory. "I'm appreciating."

You had a second to process that—to feel your skin prickle under his touch, to drown in the heat, the overwhelming closeness—before Dave claimed your mouth again.

The kiss was hungry, slow and deep, and you felt the last remnants of restraint dissolve completely. Every touch of his left a trail of fire on your skin. The world outside the room ceased to exist—there was only this, only sensation, only the press of hands and the heat curling between you like something inevitable.

When he finally pulled back just enough to catch his breath, his gaze met yours, and his smile was soft but full of intent.

"Is this still part of your study?"

You couldn’t hold back your laugh, your chest rising and falling in a shaky breath. Your fingers traced along his collarbone, down to his shoulder, exploring the muscles still tense beneath his skin.

"Actually," you murmured, your gaze flickering to his lips before meeting his eyes again, "I think the theoretical part is over."

Dave tilted his head, his fingers dipping deeper along the curve of your waist.

"Good," he said, voice low. "Because I was really looking forward to the practical part."

#dave lizewski drabble #dave lizewski x y/n #dave lizewski x you #dave lizewski x reader #dave lizewski fanfiction #writers on tumblr #fanfiction #romance #aaron taylor johnson #atj #atj x reader #kick ass #kick ass x you #kick ass x reader #fluffy #suggestive #reader insert #no use of y/n

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aggieharkness · 2 months ago

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Have I earned it, mother? Chp. 4

Pairing: Avis Amberg x reader

Summary: Avis has had a really shitty day at work, and to top it all off she finds you at the gas station with Ernie, which pisses her even further. Obviously, the only logical thing to do is to pick you up so you can take her to Dreamland. Whether you are on contract or not, superfluous to the situation.

Warnings: smut (+18), affair, swearing, oral (Avis receiving), fingering (Avis receiving), oral (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), mommy kink, praise kink, degrading kink, pet names, tit play, proper dom/sub situation, spanking, bondage, overstimulation, near fainting experience. Consent is sexy people!!!

Authors note: At last, I have finished this chapter. It has taken me a bit longer because I was two seconds away from overworking myself into a mental breakdown, but here we are. I had to do proper research for the topic that I've written, but I understand that this whole thing might not be everyone's cup of tea, still I hope you like it. As always, be gentle but tell me If I need to be more graphic, if I'm lacking on something. I am here for you, my dear people, I listen. I also accept ideas that you might have or things that you might want to see Avis and reader do. Also available on Ao3. Finally, let's thank Patti Lupone for giving us Avis Amberg.

Chp. 1 Chp. 2 Chp. 3 Chp.5 Chp.6

Word count: 17K (I've tried but I can't write short stuff for the life of me)

Love requires some spice

-These accounts look really good Ernie. You’ve recovered quite well since the spike in prices during the war, almost as if it never happened.

-What can I say kiddo, I got reliable customers.

Ernie’s office was tidy, only a few cigarette butts on an astray and a few oil stains on the carpet that he had tried to get professional cleaned but wouldn’t budge, the door left wide open so he could check on his business, both of them. It was a regular thing for you to come by his gas station and check on the accounts for him, making sure everything was up to date, that none of his boys was stealing from him, which had happened a few times before, wrapping up the numbers of the previous year so he could start clean once again. He was a nice, good friend that had lent you a helping hand when you had first arrived, lost and unsure what you were supposed to do with your life. You had become his secretary for a few weeks before you had moved to working alongside his boys, though not for long, there wasn’t much market for ladies that take care of other ladies. Still coming by years after that, was no effort, you liked being away form the studio now that everything was so hectic, the smell of oil and rubber a great change from stuffy perfumes and overpriced colognes. There was only one thing currently missing from your life that upset you enough to actually spend such a beautiful day inside this office. You had not seen Avis in over a week, and it was getting a bit under your skin, probably hers as well if the quick longing glares she threw your way when you happened to cross each other’s paths, only for a few seconds, were any indication.

-You can say that again. I’ll just do the math, fill up my book and be on my merry way.

-Whatever you need to do Y/N, you know I love having you around to give me an interesting topic of conversation. None of the “I’ve come here to become an actress, to fulfil a dream” talk that I hear all the time from my boys. No, you come and talk about the stock market and other stuff that makes me wonder where you read about all that.

-The hairdresser I go to has some interesting magazines.

He chuckled at your comment, standing from his chair and heading to rest his back against the doorframe, observing the cars that came and went, popping a cigarette out of his pocket and lighting in. As much as he loved what he did you knew he missed the opportunity of becoming something more, something great on a screen, to have his name up in lights on marquees and posters. He wasn’t a bad actor, he just didn’t have the same chances others around him had had, which in your most humble opinion was a shame. He was a good actor, he had to be as a gigolo, made sure he kept his clientele happy and with a good chance of returning, but it wasn’t exactly what he had dreamt about since he was a kid. But you could not deny that his current line of business was doing great, your eyes drifting to the wiggly lines that were written before you, even if Avis had not come to visit him since she had got with you, her last boy, Jack, forgotten in a corner of her mind along with the rest of them. She had no need for them anymore, you filled up all her emotional needs and sexual cravings without issue. Ernie tapped the butt of his cigarette, ash falling on the floor, before turning his head towards you again, that charming smile gracing his lips.

-Now, how’s the studio, everything going well?

-As expected, I mean the atmosphere is rather strange among the higher ups but everything else remains the same. Well, not everything. Avis is busting her ass off all the time, and I hardly get see her at all. I think the last time was like a week ago and we only had a short lunch date because she had a meeting, and she had to rush off.

-She was never good with pressure; she tends to let it crush her and by the time she realises, she’s already under the rubble. I saw it happen when she first had her kid, she was so run down that I thought she would drop dead right in front of me. You trying to help her?

-Of course, but Miss Kincaid is keeping me busy, and I haven’t had the chance to go up to Avis’s office yet. I was thinking of doing something on the weekend now that the weather is getting nicer. Maybe a picnic or take her down to the beach, what do you think?

-A date with you in public? No offense kid, but she’ll kill you. – the sound of a car arriving had him tear his eyes from you to take a look, puffing some smoke out of his nostrils. He signalled to a blond man that was sitting by the door to attend to the lady, waving his hand at the woman that was in the car, though from your position you could not see how it was. Ernie quickly returned to the conversation. -I’m pretty sure she loves to be with you, but photographers lurk in every corner and now that she’s in control of the studio, even more. She’s a good woman but she’s also a very important woman.

-I suppose you are right. Things were easier when Mr. Amberg was still around.

-I never thought I’d see the day when someone actually said that they missed Ace Amberg.

-I don’t miss him; I miss how easy he made it for me to be and sleep with his wife. – the snort that he gave startled you at first, but upon repeating the words in your head you realised just how it must have sounded, after all it was pretty odd the situation you and Avis had and what role her husband played in all of it. A small chuckle escaped from your lips after a moment, your hand on your forehead rubbing the skin. - Okay, that sounded really weird. All I want is to be able to make her relax, let her hair down even if its only for a minute. This job is going to kill her if she doesn’t stop a little.

-That’s Avis alright, she speeds down the freeway and doesn’t brake until the very last minute, if she brakes.

-How about a date at her place? We could have a picnic in her own garden. No photographers, no worries and she’s in a comfortable environment that will make her feel relaxed.

-Now, that’s an idea. -he stubbed the cigarette with his foot before walking out into the workshop, you following suit to keep the conversation going. The warmth of the sun was a welcome change from the cold that had settled in the first few weeks of January, now pushed to only a few hours during the night before the sun came out and made the entirety of Hollywood forget their coats and pick up jackets. It kissed your skin gently over your white cardigan and flowy baby blue dress. Ernie kept talking, moving from adjusting a few screws on the carburettor of an old Mercedes to starting an oil change on a newer Lincoln continental. - I swear if I had a branch in this business just for dates, you would crack it kid. My number one star, wooing ladies like its Valentines Day.

-Don’t give me any ideas or I might do the numbers and see how much it could earn us.

-If it’s a lot, go for it. – he laughed loudly, his voice muffled slightly by the metal hood above his head. He started speaking again a few instants later, your hand resting on the side of the car as you took the sun in, but your gaze moved towards his legs, the only thing you could see of him, as his tone was now a bit different, more serious, as if he actually wanted to get an honest answer to his question. -How is Avis handling everything?

-She was socked about it all at first, devastated when she thought she might become a widow; she wasn’t sure she could handle being the wife of the late Mr. Amberg, although he’s not dead, yet anyway. She was upset that her daughter didn’t seem affected, but now they are both doing rather well. Avis moved from the panic of having to plan a funeral onto the panic of running the studio pretty fast, but you know, her and Ace…

-Yeah. It was way worse in the beginning, when she still thought he might love her back. It was horrible to see her coming to me crying, heartbroken. Now they could kill each other if they were not civilised. He hurt her pretty badly and she won’t ever forgive him. It was a shitty ride for her, no wonder she’s moved on so fast from his heart attack.

-She still goes to see him when she can, Miss Kincaid told me, but she doesn’t stay too long. She practically goes to see if he’s still alive and then goes home. She probably talks to him a little, but not much more than that. I mean he can’t talk back to her; she’s probably telling him all the shit that she’s always wanted to scream at him, letting all the anger out. Even though she hates him, she stills cares enough to not want him to die.

-She’s always going to care. She loved him, that’s not something easy to forget, at least for some people. But you don’t have anything to worry about, she’s not going to push away and hop back into the arms of her husband the minute he wakes up. You are doing her a lot of good and my business a lot of damage.

-Sorry not sorry, but you know I’m good and that I keep my ladies satisfied, at least this one in particular for the foreseeable future, if not forever. You are going to have to find yourself another Avis that pays well and comes frequently.

-Does she have any friends that are exactly like her?

-Oh, no, Ernie. She’s one of a kind.

The sound of a motor made you turn, that well known black Cadillac pulling into the station and parking on pump one. You felt your heart leap in your chest, a stupid smile plastered on your lips. Avis was right there, behind the wheel, her sunglasses on, leopard print hat pinned on the side of her hair, her hands, covered by her bright magenta gloves, resting over the wheel. You noticed how her stand was rigid; it was quite obvious to eyes like yours that were attentive to her every little detail, from the way her lips were curled into a thin line to how hard she was holding onto the steering wheel, her knuckles probably white under her gloves. You kicked Ernie with your foot, signalling for him to get out from under the car, his eyes landing straight on Avis as soon as he pushed himself off the floor, wiggling his eyebrows at you as he made his way to his best client, that charming smile faltering a bit when he greeted her and she only bit back with an order to fill up the tank. Oh, she was mad, like really pissed, someone must have upset her greatly at the office today, you thought. Ernie was still trying to talk with her, make conversation you gathered by the way his mouth was moving, and like a resort Avis suddenly whipped her head to meet you, pushing her glasses down to reveal a pair of beautiful big brown eyes wide open, surprised and slightly shocked at seeing you there. You could not tell if she was upset that you were there, but she moved her hand over the car door and motioned for you to approach her. You obeyed without complain, your flats making no sound against the grey floors and road as you walked to meet her, Ernie continuing to fill the tank as if he had not just ratted you out to your girlfriend. It’s not that you didn’t want to see her, but you kind of didn’t want her to find you here, of all places, after all you had not told her about your first job in Hollywood yet.

-What the hell are you doing here? – okay, she was mad at you now as well, brilliant. You gave her one of your charming smiles, innocent and proper, her submissive little girl but it didn’t seem to do you any good, she still looked at you with fury in her eyes as she removed her sunglasses all together. Did she think you were actually working here?

-I’m simply helping Mr. West with the accounts, ma’am.

-Do you think me stupid? – her eyes were narrow as she bent over the car door, her face a foot from yours, her perfume mingling with yours perfectly as you breathed it in, a shiver running down your spine when she lifted her hand and grabbed the collar of your dress yanking you hard until only a few inches separated her from you. She was delighted to see you, that Avis could not deny, but she was beyond livid at finding you here looking completely relaxed, at home. You were not one to engage with gigolos but you clearly knew Ernie well enough that he would allow you to be around like this, which meant you had to be providing a service, or a favour, her eyes looking at you with a mix of anger and lust, the fabric of her glove touching the flesh of your collarbone drawing goosebumps. If only her hands were touching you without the magenta barrier, you thought. – How many women have you fucked while you are supposed to be with me Y/N?

-None, ma’am. I’m not on contract here. I’m simply helping with accounts I promise.

So, you weren’t working here, you were only doing maths, okay, she could live with that, not that the idea of picking you up from here so you could indeed provide her with a certain type of service didn’t excite her. You were such a proper girl all the time, the affair that you were having with her aside, of course, you never did anything that could be considered naughty, not that she knew of, at least, but Avis’s mind was already imagining you walking towards her in a tight uniform, charming her, showing off your assets so she would pick you over any of the other boys in that station. She got hot under her own collar, your sweet eyes doing things to her that should be illegal, her mind racing through all the scenarios that she could come up with, all the things she could to you, that she would do to you.

-I can vouch for her, Avis, she hasn’t…

-Quiet, Ernie. – she lifted a hand towards him while still holding you in front of her, the man picking up the husky tone that laced her command, closing his mouth and wrapping up his job at the pump before locking the fuel deposit. It was so easy for her anger to turn into lust and desire when you were involved, that delightful dress you were wearing showing off your cleavage perfectly for her eyes to feast on, your breaths rapid under her touch. She could picture you popping a button open so your ample breasts would claim her eyes, all her attention. – Are you such a slut that you need to come here? Have others fuck you until you can’t take it anymore? Until you are satiated?

-No ma’am, you are the only one who touches me and you keep me perfectly satisfied every time.

-Is that so? – her voice was so low, so full of lust and power that you could feel your body reacting profoundly to her words, her hand letting go of your dress as she rested her body back against her car seat and yet you did not move, you only bent forward a bit more seeking her touch, her closeness. She thrived in the way you were so eager to have her, that you were such a submissive little girl for her. She smirked, moving her glasses back over her nose but not over her eyes, still fully taking you in, your eyes locking with hers, her pupils dilated and full of desire. You didn’t think she was into role play, but it was clear that this entire thing was heading that way, and you were not against it at all. - Well, I’m far from satisfied right now.

-Are you ma’am? We can’t have that, can we?

-Are you on the clock girl? – she picked up her purse, pulling out her cigarette case, but your hand gently shot to grab it, pushing it to the side. No need to blow up the station. She picked up on what you meant by that simple movement and left it fall over the dark leather of her car, pulling out a twenty-dollar bill from her purse instead and placing it underneath the strap of your bra making sure to brush the top of your breast before sitting back, pointing her head towards Ernie who was back in the workshop overlooking the entire interaction. – I need more than just my car pumped.

-For you I’m always on the clock, ma’am.

-Good then. I wish for you to take me to Dreamland girl, I believe mama has some pent up tension that she needs to release.

It took you a second to run towards Ernie to hand him the twenty, returning to Avis’s car without slipping over any puddles of oil. Upon reaching the Cadillac you pushed your hair back and smoothed your dress, walking slowly around the hood of the vehicle making sure to sway your hips to give her a show and oh, did she feast on you. Her eyes followed your frame so closely, her lower lip in between her teeth, the temperature around you both spiking. You slipped beside her, your dress bunching up over your upper thighs, which you were going to correct after closing the door, but she stopped you, placing both your hands against the leather of the seat on each side of you, her face inches from yours. You saw the way she stared at your lips, but she didn’t kiss you, couldn’t kiss you here for everyone to see so she pulled back. Lever down, car in first gear and Avis practically flew away from the station, Ernie laughing and waving at you both as he watched the car vanish around the corner before returning to his office. You had left the accounting records on a chair right there, but it did not matter, you were going to be busy for a while, he hardly thought your priority would be the station’s numbers. The road Avis was driving on was not the usual way she took to get to her place, but upon glancing at a sign you saw that it was the way to the Beverly Hills Hotel. It was risky to go with her to such a public place but then again you knew she was a bit of an exhibitionist, maybe the idea of the press seeing her with you turned her on, it sure turned you wild with desire, but you did not move your hands, as much as you wanted to run them up her thighs while she drove. She felt your eyes racking over her body, the need for you building deep within her core blending with the anger she still felt from the horrid day she had had.

Ever since her husband had had his heart attack, fucking Lon Silver was just stuck to her back, like a shadow following her everywhere she went. He drove her insane with the way he talked as if she was dumb, as if he was the only one who could take care of the studio when Ace had left it to her, not him, but of course he was overstepping, like always, trying to get her to quit or for her to turn the job to somebody else he could get to do his bidding. No fucking way, not while there was still breath in her body. She wasn’t doing any of this because the studio was Ace’s life work, she didn’t give a shit whether he would like what she was doing or not once he woke up, if he woke up, she just wanted to either wipe that fucking smirk off of Lon’s face or wipe him of the face of the Earth all together. She could not quite decide which would bring her more satisfaction. She felt the anger rising again, steaming out of every single pore in her body as it became stiff on her seat, which you quickly picked up on. Her eyes were glued to the road, speeding down the avenue without so much as glancing your way trying to tempt you, test you and see if you wanted her as much as she wanted you like she would have done under other circumstances. You knew you could ask her exactly what she desired you to do, if there was anything she wanted to release some of the tension, but you did not want her to get frustrated by your questions seeing as her mind had raced back to whatever had happened to her throughout the day pissing her off once more. With careful movements your hand made contact with the fabric of her stocking, under her skirt and over her right thigh; her breath hitched in her lungs but she did not push you away, your fingers rubbing and kneading the flesh, moving it upwards very slowly savouring the hums that she was making, a gasp escaping her when you brushed them on her inner thigh, fingering the top lace of her stocking.

You were supposed to take her to Dreamland, no? Might as well start relaxing her from the very beginning. You scooped your body closer to hers, your thigh practically touching hers without stopping your movements that had now turned towards the in between of her legs, inching closer and closer to her centre but never touching her; you only wanted to relax her, there would be plenty of time for you to tease her and please her later. Your head moved to the crook of her neck, pecking the skin above her coat and outfit, a quiet moan slipping through her slightly ajar lips. You were pushing your luck with this behaviour since the top of the car was down, your actions out for the world to see, but Avis couldn’t care less, your tender kisses seeping under her skin, the tension slipping out of her shoulders and limbs. You were just what the doctor ordered, and it had been too long since you two had been together, she needed every bit of attention you were giving her, that she allowed you to give her. For now. Even her foot lifted a little from the accelerator letting the car slow down as the hotel came into view a few yards away. You had to pull away, much to her dismay, when the people on the streets became too many for you to continue, Avis swerving and stopping the car by the front doors. While she stepped out of the vehicle to pull a suitcase from the trunk before throwing her keys to a young valet you slipped from the passenger’s seat as the perfect image of a proper lady, hands clasped in front of you, coming to meet Avis by the front doors, her head motioning for you to follow her.

The lobby was spectacular, the walls and floors dressed in white marble with a round area in the centre framed by four columns that fit the same theme, separating a round zone with armchairs from the rest of the room. There were glass tables spread all throughout with vases of fresh flowers that diffused sweet floral aromas all throughout the lounge, carpets that were probably worth more than your entire apartment covering the marble patterned floors, a beautiful glass chandelier topping of the majesty of the room. You had never been here before, you had heard of it and had seen it upon passing by, but you had never ever been in there, which made this whole experience with Avis a thousand times better. People greeted her as she made her way to the front desk, smiling politely and stepping aside as if she owned the place, who knew maybe she did, everything was possible were Avis was concerned, the man that was sitting behind the counter smiling and handing her a key without so much as an explanation. It was clear they knew her enough to not ask unnecessary questions, as if she had done this before, which you knew she had, it was no secret for you that Avis had frequented the gas station for more than gas, though now it was not necessary. You knew she had brought all those boys here but none of them shared with her what you did, none of them mattered to her one single bit. She did care for Ernie, they had been friends and sex partners for over a decade now, but he had made it very clear to you when you had told him that you and Avis were a thing that he had no interest in being with her romantically, that he was still waiting for the one that would make him retire and much to his dismay she was not the one.

Being shown towards the elevators you could not help but feel that this time things were special. You did not feel cheap or upset that you both were role playing like this, she wasn’t treating you like someone who was going to offer her a service and call it a day, no she made sure to always keep an eye on you, to signal you to walk beside her, never a few steps behind like at the beginning of your relationship, to make you feel protected and cared for. She was not going to do anything that could make you feel bad simply because she wanted to, this was a partnership and if you didn’t feel comfortable, she wasn’t going to push her needs and wants onto you the same way that she expected you to not cross lines with her. But by the way your eyes were glinting under the light of the lamps on the wall as the sun began to go down, afternoon blending into evening, she was sure you were excited and filled with anticipation and desire, wondering where the night might take you. You noticed the way she kept you close to her, her hands brushing yours as you stepped into the elevator, Avis pushing the button for the second floor, but since she had sped away from the station, she hadn’t uttered a single word. It intrigued you why she would not engage you in some sort of playful banter, but she wasn’t mad, her body was relaxed, and her fingers toyed with your fingers and the fabric of your cardigan, throwing glances behind her sunglasses that you could feel in your bones. What was going through that pretty head of hers?

The bell of the elevator rang signalling it had arrived at the desired destination, its doors opening for the two of you to reveal a set of stairs draped in a beautiful green carpet that extended all along an empty foyer, not a soul in sight. Your heart skipped a beat when you felt her hand holding onto yours, her steps calm and steady as you both walked down the hallway, the carpet decorated with a diagonal pattern you noticed upon glancing down to the floor following the movement of Avis’s legs and hips, the walls painted with big banana leaves over a light pink background. She pulled you past door after door until you both reached the opposite side of the hallway, a big window letting the warm sunlight through a set of thin white curtains, its yellowish beams reflecting on a white door situated on the left side, hidden behind a corner. Of course they would give her a secluded room. She let go of you to push the key in and open the doors, pulling you in gently, a smirk on her lips. You could see her fangs through her ajar mouth, her hands pushing you against the now closed door after dropping the suitcase unceremoniously on the floor, her face inches from yours. You thought she was going to crash her lips against your mouth and kiss you until you lost your mind, but you were proved mistaken when instead she kissed your cheek and with slow agonizing pecks she travelled down your jawline, a gasp sliding out of your throat when you felt her tongue lick the underside of your jaw and the flesh of your upper neck. Your hands were pressed against the wood, itching to touch her but something in the back of your mind told you that she would not allow it.

Just as unexpectedly as she had pressed you against the door she pulled away and began to walk towards the living area of the suite. You had not had time to look around, not that you could pay much attention to the light pink coloured walls and matching furniture set, as your eyes were glued to Avis as she removed the coat off her shoulders, draping it over the back of an armchair, unpinned her hat and removed her gloves, both items resting on a small white coffee table in between the easy chairs before turning to face you, her sunglasses coming off slowly so she could stare at you. Behind her the curtains flowed gently to the warm breeze that was coming through the open windows, making a rogue curl that must have fallen of her complicated hairdo, sway near the nape of her neck, the fiery tones complementing the palette of the room, with its gentle pink tones, perfectly. Her chest rose and fell with each rapid breath; was she… nervous? Her hands were holding onto the top of an armchair, knuckles turning white as the seconds passed. You could not understand why she would feel this way, it’s not as if this would be your first time together, perhaps you had misinterpreted her body language and she was in fact, excited, lusting after you, staking like a predator. Slowly you took a step towards her, her head held high with a raised eyebrow, a gentle smirk on her lips, so you took another and since she did not stop you, only waited, you closed up the space that separated you. Your hands rose in the air to take her face in between them, but Avis stopped you, her grip tender as she pulled you towards a different room where a cart with drinks and two couches rested over a light-coloured carpet, sitting you down. She turned away from you to prepare herself a martini, sitting herself opposite after a moment with the small glass in her hand. She took a sip before lifting her head to look at you, her legs crossed as you waited for her to speak with hands resting over the fabric of your skirt.

-Before we go any further, If I asked you to try something with me, would you? – her voice was clear, business like, forcing you to stare wondering why the sudden change in the atmosphere, waiting for her to finish taking another sip of the drink, curiosity filling your chest. Avis had been thinking about this for a while, since your first encounter when you had told her that you liked it rough in bed. At first, she had thought that it meant a few pulls of hair, but when it had slipped out of your mouth in the throes of passion the possibility of her tying you down, she had begun to do the research. She had asked people about it, had looked around shops and such; she had made up her mind about this.

-It depends. What do you have in mind?

-I want to test your boundaries, see how much pain you can take until the pleasure is no longer that, how much it would take for me to overstimulate you, among many other things. I want to dominate you. – she spoke while her eyes locked with yours, the power that was emanating from her intoxicating, making you shiver on the spot. She wanted to mix pleasure and pain? She wanted to do what you thought she wanted to do? It surprised you and yet it felt fitting for a woman like her with such a commanding presence altogether.

-Dominate me? What made you think of this?

-You said you liked it rough. I’m simply wondering, how much?

-I don’t know, no one has truly bothered to do such a thing with me. – she took another sip from her martini before patting the seat next to her. You did not hesitate and slid right beside her, her hand toying with the hem of your dress as she spoke, delighted in the way your body responded to her gentle touches and brief caresses of your thigh.

-Then would you agree to let me do this? Share this experience together?

-What exactly would it mean for me?

-Many things. I want you to understand that this whole thing is for the both of us, not just me. If there is something that you don’t want to do or try, make sure to tell me, I won’t proceed at all unless we are both sure about it. – she bent forward, only a foot separating her face from yours, her hot breath tainted with the slight aroma of gin filling your lungs, your breaths rapid, heart beating hard against your ribs. What she was saying carried a lot of implications, a lot of things that you would love to try with her, it scared you but it also excited you, and it was clear that she had been through this idea in her head more than once and more than twice.- Though there must be rules set in place for this, honey.

-Like when we were at the dealership?

-Something similar. – her face was now inches from yours, her voice low and husky as she spoke, her hand now fully under your skirt. She knew you would be on board by the time this conversation was over, perhaps she might have had you from the very beginning, either way, just having her lips so close and yet so far drove you insane. – Rule number one. You are mine and only mine, you are not allowed to touch or sleep with someone who is not me the same way I’m not allowed to be with anyone who is not you. Understood?

-Yes ma’am.

-You are not allowed to touch me or yourself unless I grant you permission, the same way that if I tell you to be quiet, to look at me or to be loud, you will comply. You will only address me as ma’am or mother; if you say anything else, you will be punished. You don’t have the right to beg or plead with me or for me to let you do anything, I am in charge and will chose when you can do something. And if I have not stated that you can, then you must always think that you can’t. Your main goal is to please me so you can be granted permission, for what? That is for me to decide. I can do to you whatever I want, taking on account that your safety takes priority over everything else, so you can’t escape me or pull away from me or contradict me in any way, if you do, you will be severely punished. And lastly… you can’t cum until I say so. Are these rules agreeable to you?

-Yes, ma’am.

-Good girl. -she pecked your cheek, your damn cheek! It was torture to have her literally telling you she was going to do things to you that might leave you like jelly on her bed and yet she denied you her mouth. She sat back, taking a sip from her martini, the hand that had been playing with you now resting on the back of the couch. Your eyes were full of lust, gazing up at hers with a beseeching tone but she did not move from her spot; she had not even begun, and you were already imploring silently for her to touch you. It was utterly delicious. - There is a system to make sure that if things get too much for you, you can tell me, and I will immediately stop. A set of safe words. If you can take more than what I’m giving you must say white, if you need a moment to gather yourself you must say orange and if I’m pushing you too much, if you fear I’m going to hurt you or you are already in pain, say black and I will stop completely. Being rough with you doesn’t entitle me to hurt beyond how much you want me to, understood?

-Yes ma’am. I have a question. You will pleasure me and hurt me and treat me exactly like I said I wanted you to, but what do you get out of this Avis?

-Control. Anything I command you to do you will have to comply with or you will be punished, and it is I and only I who choses exactly what happens to you. You are mine to do as I please with. Do you understand exactly what will transpire here if you agree?

-I do.

-And do you agree Y/N? – she waited for a few seconds, although they felt like hours to her. You knew perfectly well what she wanted to do and to be fair and honest you could not think of a person better than Avis to share it with. If anyone was going to fuck you beyond comprehension while she tied you to a pipe or something, who better than the woman who loved you and cared for you.

-I do.

And suddenly it was as if a switch had been flipped and she was grabbing the collar of your dress and pulling you hard against her, her mouth crashing against yours. It caught you by surprise, a yelp escaping your lips, but it ended up muffle by Avis’s mouth, her tongue tracing the outline of your lower lip so you would grant her access to your mouth, which you did. It was messy and so very intoxicating to have her battling and exploring your mouth so intensely, her free had on the back of your neck to keep you in place. Your lungs were screaming for air but you did not want it to end, the feeling of her teeth biting down on your lower lip before she pulled back altogether nearly making you whine at the loss, your eyes watching Avis downing the rest of her martini before standing from the couch. You sat there unsure of what to do, after all you were supposed to follow her cues and commands, but she had given none. She left the room only to come back a minute later with the suitcase she had left by the door, pushing the French door that separated this room from the bedroom and dumping it over the mattress. Slowly she turned to look at you, a hand resting on the door frame as she lifted her hand, her index finger signalling for you to approach her. On shaky legs you stood and made your way to her, your heart beating so fast you believed she could hear it, her right hand moving to trace the line of your jaw, her voice quiet, nearly a whisper in your ear.

-Undress me.

The outfit she was wearing hugged her curves in all the right places, but it was obviously a bit stuffy, work clothes that she desired to get rid of and you were there to please after all. Your hands went up to her neck, tracing the outline of the outfit until your hands were running down her front, fingers working slowly on each button, pushing the jacket open after a few moments. Her eyes watched your every move, laced with such ardour that she feared she might make you combust or perhaps it was she who might end up in flames. The blouse underneath was white satin, thin and so very distracting with the way it plunged down low revealing the top of a white and pink corselette, Avis’s breasts moving hurriedly with each breath she took. You could not get enough of her, the way her skin looked peppered with freckles, the way it felt under your palms, it was absolutely maddening. You pulled the blouse out of her skirt, undoing the rest of the buttons to fully reveal her undergarments from the waist up, your hands running down her sides to her hips, pressing her against you. She gasped at the action and was about to reprimand you about how she had not told you to do that until she felt you turning her around, her back now against your chest. The way your lips landed on the back of her neck as your hands trailed up to her shoulders, fingers brushing the sides of her breasts, felt wonderful, the anger that she had felt sliding down her arms along with her jacket and blouse, leaving her flesh exposed for you to touch. Your fingers ghosted over the flesh of her upper arms, tracing lazy patterns as your kisses moved to the crook of her neck and onto her left shoulder, retracing your steps so her right side wouldn’t be neglected. She was humming in approval, moving her head to give you better access, feeling how your arms moved from her hands to her hips, fingering the waist of her skirt until you located the zip, pushing it down slowly until the garment fell on its own down her legs, pooling at her feet. She was only dressed in her undergarments now, your hands travelling to unclasp the first hook of her corselette, but Avis was quick to stop you, pushing her body off of yours to sit on the settee at the foot of the bed with her eyes racking over your body, resting an elbow on the mattress.

-You are quite overdressed dear. Take it off. All of it.

How could she turn you on so hard with just one command? It was insane. Your hands shook in anticipation as you lifted them to remove your jacket, letting it fall on the floor at her feet, before rising them once again to undo the buttons on the front of your dress, Avis’s eyes watching as you popped each open, revealing your peach coloured brassier and the creamy skin of your abdomen as your hands carried on downwards until the dress hung lose from your shoulders. She was eating you alive with her eyes, tracing her lips with her own tongue at the sweet sight of your matching lacy knickers and nude stockings clasped to a garter belt. You had invested in new lingerie Avis noticed quite pleased. Those modern garments sure suited a woman like you, the translucent fabric letting her see your rosy nipples trapped behind that beautiful garment that complimented your skin beautifully. It was no effort whatsoever to shimmy out of the dress, the flowy material pooling around your feet in a mass of blue, leaving you before Avis in your underwear.

You took one step towards her causing her to raise an eyebrow, and then another letting your dainty foot slip out of your flat, placing the tip of your toes on the edge of the settee, your left leg right beside her as you bent forward to unclasp your stocking, rolling it down your leg and dropping it at her feet, doing the same thing with your right leg, your garter belt the next garment to leave your body, on top of the growing pile of clothes that you were leaving at her feet. It was such a normal action to remove one’s stockings, but the way you had done it was simply lascivious, your breasts pressed against your thigh practically escaping from their confinement, your fingers sliding down your legs as if to tease her, to tempt her. Returning to the spot you had just left you gave her your back, hands unclasping your brassiere before stretching your arm and letting it fall, watching Avis over your shoulder. Her pupils were blown wide, her lower lip in between her teeth, the hand that was resting on the mattress gripping the covers while the other rubbed her own thigh. She was waiting for you to finish so she could pound on you, you could feel it in the way she was looking at you, your knickers absolutely drenched as you pushed them down your legs, kicking them aside. Every inch of your body was uncovered, free for her to see and touch at last. Slowly you turned to face her, a gasp escaping her parted lips at the sight of you, pushing herself into a sitting position, the lust that was filling her up making the embers of a fire start building into flames deep in her core. After a moment of raking her eyes over your body she locked them with yours. The game was on.

-My my, aren't I a lucky girl, with such a pretty little thing standing there so bare for me. But I think you would look even prettier kneeling at my feet, wouldn’t you say?

Positioning yourself on all fours you crawled, pushing the clothes that had been shed to the sides so they wouldn’t be in the way, your hands inches away from her heels when you stopped, lifting your head to look at her. She bent forward and grabbed your face forcefully, compelling you to sit on the heels of your feet to meet her face at the level she wanted, your hands clasped in your lap, nipples hard due to the breeze that was coming into the room from the big balcony, its curtains swaying, flowing like water. Your inner thighs were coated with your arousal, and something told you that by the way her eyes were absolutely blown wide she could smell it, and it was driving her mad with lust.

-You are being such a good girl for mama, but why don’t you put that mouth of yours to good use.

She let go of your face, pushing you back slightly and lifted her leg, the sole of her shoe coming to rest on your thigh. She had said mouth, she hadn’t said anything about hands, so you lifted them and lulled your head to the side in a questioning manner. She smiled; you were so diligent with the rules, remembering that back in the dealership she had told you not to speak unless she granted you permission, her eyes observing you for a moment before she nodded, relaxing back against the mattress, propped up on her elbows to watch you. Every path your fingers trace over her skin sent a shiver down Avis’s spine, your mouth kissing the arch of her foot, like a craving for her that you just couldn’t fulfil as your hands gently removed her shoe. Even her stockings tasted expensive as your kisses trailed up her shin, fingers massaging the ball of her foot, around her ankle, through her calf, drawing quiet moans and hums that filled the room so easily. She was exquisite under your touch. Upon reaching her knee you lifted her leg over your shoulder to lick the perfect hollow where her calf and thigh met, sucking the silk in your mouth leaving a wet spot behind as you gave it a resting place over your shoulder to carry on with your journey up her thigh.

You were kneeling before her so readily, her eyes moving from your movements on her leg to the way your back arched as your lips went further upwards, the way your ample breasts and perky nipples swayed with each motion your body made. Avis could feel how she was responding to your ministrations, her corselette feeling a bit tight around her, the lacy fabric of her knickers positively drenched already in between her legs. You kept going, your lips leaving pecks around the lacy top of her stockings while your hands keened the flesh around the clip, and then with one swift motion it came undone in your hand, fingering the hem as you made your way to the back of her thigh to unclip the other. Painstakingly slow the garment was removed from her leg leaving her free for you to touch at last, no barriers preventing you from licking and tasting her sweet skin, your teeth scraping the soft flesh on her shin as you finally let the stocking fall on the floor. It was maddening the way your nails raked over her thigh, red angry marks painting her flesh, which with a smirk she realised she had not told you to do. There was sudden jolt of pain when her hand made contact with your head and pulled your hair tight so her face was inches from yours, your scalp burning deliciously as the pain became pleasure in a quick instant.

-Well, what a naughty girl, taking such liberties. – your head was lulled back as the grip on your hair became stronger, more painful and yet you did not speak, simply stared at her, a new gave of arousal pooling in between your legs. - If you step out of line just one more time, I will have to punish you, and you don’t want mama to get angry, do you?

Your head shook, a triumphant smile on Avis’s lips as she brushed her lips over yours before releasing you. The first mistake she could pass, but a second one she would not indulge, part of her hoping you would trip so she could indeed punish you while the other half wanted to see just how obedient you could be. Your attention was now on her other leg, hands shaking slightly but not in fear, it was a mix of lust and excitement sprinkled with a certain level of curiosity that you could not avoid, she was in control after all. Her shoe was hanging from the tip of her toes when you placed your hand on her calf to lift it, watching as the black pump fell to the floor on its own with a plop, her foot at the perfect angle with your face so your lips could kiss the arch. This time you made sure to give it a little bit more of attention, the pads of your fingers massaging and releasing the tension of being on her feet throughout the day, moving from her toes to her sole and the ball of her foot while peppering tender kisses around her ankle. You were making up for your slipup, it was quite obvious, but she was not going to complain when your hands were so eager to please her and keep her in a contented cloud, the small specks of anger and tension that had still clung to her skin, slipping into the ether. Once satisfied with the way she hummed as she let her body fall back onto the mattress, utterly relaxed, you began to move upwards, each kiss leaving a wet spot over the silk that you were so very tempted to rip with your teeth, but you were pretty sure she would count that as stepping out of line. Some other time, you thought.

Your lips were busy kissing around her knee, but your hands were trailing upwards until she felt you fingering around the lacy top of her stocking. You were being deliberately slow, toying and playing with the clip but never unclasping it, your lips teasing her thigh only to return around her knee once again, driving her into an impatience that she could only tolerate so much. When you felt her body shift and rest on her elbows, her eyes narrow as they locked with yours, you quickly picked up on the fact that you were pushing your luck and moved quickly to unclasp the front and back clips before pushing the garment off her leg. She smiled approvingly, but you were not quite done, you had neglected her thigh and that could not be. Finally, you began to move upwards, your pecks turning into gentle nibbles the closer you got to her inner thigh, biting down hard on your preferred spot, running your tongue over the red mark to soothe the sting. She gasped in surprise letting pleasure taint it as her head fell back to take in every single sensation you were giving her, but even though she enjoyed it immensely, and you knew she did, you had slipped, a naughty smirk painting her lips. She let you finish your work of kisses with one single peck on the joint of her hip and leg before her body lurched forward and her hand grasped your hair again. A hiss escaped your lips this time, another infraction she decided, pushing your body back until your back was practically arching under the force of her grip, Avis coming to stand and bend over your body, towering over you as your hands fell to the carpeted floor to stabilise yourself. Her breasts were only a few inches away from you, your mouth watering at the sight, but you were frozen in your spot, eyes moving frantically all over her body as her face got closer and closer to yours.

-And here I was, thinking you were going to be a good girl for mama only to disappoint me. You know what girls that step out of line get, don’t you? – God, why hadn’t you done this before, this whole dominating act could set you on fire with the way her voice spoke to you so huskily and with such an authoritative tone. You were her toy, her plaything, and you wanted to be her only girl forever and always. You found yourself nodding to her question, but she was not satisfied, she pulled you closer to her, giving your neck and back a break from their previous position, her breasts right at the perfect angle for you to feast on, but you could not steer your gaze clear from her face. – I need words darling, so answer the question.

-Punished.

-Indeed. You were doing so well, but I guess that sluts like you need to be reminded that your rightful place is at my feet. Crawl in between the balcony and the bed and stay. Understood?

-Yes, mother.

She let you go, that delicious sting that had spread through your scalp vanishing. You sat there for a few instants before placing the palms of your hands over the carpet, moving slowly over shaky legs around the bed. Avis had not moved from her spot, how could she when you were so beautiful on all fours moving to the place she had specified, your ass propped up in the air letting her eyes roamed over your perfect checks, the glistening in between your thighs not going amiss as your hips swaying as you progressed with each step. Her own hands travelled down the sides of her body until they settled on her hips, savouring the moment. The carpet dug into your skin, but it did not matter, they would leave a mark that in no time would vanish, the principal question in your mind being what was Avis going to do with you while she had you in this spot. Reaching the spot you thought Avis would approve of, you stilled your movements, doubting whether to stay on all fours or to sit back, she had not specified how you should wait. A gentle breeze cooled your skin, making you turn your head to let it hit your face in hopes that your burning cheeks would not remain so. It was beautiful through the open doors, the sunlight turning slightly orange as evening progressed outside this room, the drawn curtains flowing with each gust of wind allowing you to see the outline of the city among all the greenery. If you let your mind wander you could imagine the sea just there on the horizon.

-Is the view outside better than the one inside this room? - You had not heard Avis’s steps approaching you, the sudden sound of her voice in your ear causing you to turn your head away from the window, eyes staring down at the carpet again. Your heart had skipped a beat, but you were unsure whether it was due to how sultry her voice was or if it was because she had scared the crap out of you. She made a disapproving sound with her mouth as she pushed herself back to her full height, something cold and leathery making contact with your upper back to keep you in place on all fours when she saw that you had lifted your hands off the carpte to sit back. – I asked you a question.

-No ma’am.

-And yet your attention was elsewhere. You disappoint me Y/N. I thought you would do well with rules, but you’ve proven to be unable to follow simple commands. I guess sluts like you deserve to be punished after all. What will I do… what… will… I… do.

The foreign object that had been resting on your upper back slid down following the outline of your spine, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind until it reached your ass. You had an inkling of what she could have in her hand, but you could not bring yourself to turn your head to look at her, anticipation filling your chest as your heart raced against your ribs, pounding. The leathery object slid over your left cheek and then your right, but nothing else happened for a few instants, the excitement nearly too much for you. You heard ruffling beside you and from the corner of your eye you saw part of Avis’s frame sitting on the bed, over the covers. And then it hit you square in the ass. A thin sturdy shaft collided with both your cheeks as the leather tongue you had felt running over your skin hit you perfectly over the right side of your buttocks. A gasp escaped your lips at the contact, your body jerking forward in surprise and out of seer instinct to move away from what was inflicting pain but you quickly returned to your original position, the sting you had felt at first vanishing after a few seconds helped by the touch of Avis’s palm running over the mark you were sure the object had left behind, soothing it until the only sensation left was pleasure.

-Now, I think that ten whippings for the liberties you took should teach you to never step out of line again. Count out loud.

Her hand left your lower back, seconds passing by in silence. She had a riding crop in her hand, she was going to hit you with a fucking riding crop, a fantasy you had been having for weeks now. You had imagined her bending you over her knee and using her hand to discipline you but as your gasps turned into moans, she would bend you over the couch and hit you over and over with the riding crop until you had to stop fantasising, or you would cum on the spot. This was real, she had one in her hand, you had felt its sting on your skin and yet you could not bring yourself to believe that this was happening. The first spank quickly made you realise that it was indeed true, the leather tongue colliding with your left cheek harder than the one she had inflicted upon you mere minutes ago. This pain was delicious, absolutely dizzying and addictive and for an instant you nearly forgot to speak the number.

-One!

-Good girl.

The second one landed on your right cheek, a gasp escaping your mouth as you said “two”, voice wavering slightly. This pain was hardly anything that could make you scream, your body stoic in place even if the pleasure was building higher, the third and fourth spanks hitting you unceremoniously on both sides pretty quickly one after the other. You nearly missed saying three, but Avis didn’t seem to notice that slip up. She was beyond aroused, her breaths rapid with the riding crop tightly in her hand, eyes glued to the red marks she was leaving that she was so very tempted to bend and soothe with her tongue, but that would be the opposite of inflicting a punishment. She did notice that you seemed to be handling it all rather well, so when the fifth spank landed on your right cheek, she made sure to smack it harder, the gasp that you gave perfect indication that this might be just the ideal strength to use on you. The feeling of the leather hitting you harder sent a jolt of pain up your back, but the pleasure was grander, your voice filled with desire as you muttered “five”, so very deep and utterly maddening that you were sure by the time Avis was done you could cum simply with one word.

-Can you take the five that are left, darling?

The concern that laced her lusty voice warmed your heart and you quickly nodded, yearning for the pain that was to come. She delivered as soon you stilled your movements, the hit harder than the one before, the pain turning into pleasure so fast that you weren’t sure if you had felt anything but pleasure, “six” leaving your mouth in a breathless gasp, your hands gripping the carpet until your knuckled turned white, your toes twitching. The seventh one made your back arch, toes curling hard as you felt your arousal practically dripping down your legs, but even in this hazy could of desire tainted by pain you managed to speak the next number. You were doing so well, your pretty creamy skin painted scarlet, contrasting beautifully, and in a simple touch of affection towards you Avis ran her hand over the marks to sooth the sting and pulsating feeling that she was sure you had going on under the red flesh. Just three more left, you thought. There was a certain part of you that did not want her to stop but the curiosity of what she would do once she was done was rather overwhelming, the eighth blow landing a little bit closer to your upper thighs that Avis had intended, a yelp sliding past your ajar lips. This pain was somehow completely different to anything you had felt before and yet so fucking wonderful, so raw that your arms collapsed leaving the right side of your face resting over the carpet, eyes closed as you muttered “eight”. Avis bent forward to check on you, worried at the sight of you practically laid on the floor, her heart pounding and her hand nearly dropping the riding crop, but when she heard you say the number she released the breath she hadn’t realised she had been holding in her lungs. If you need her to stop you would say the word, she thought more in an attempt to reassure herself that you were fine than anything else.

You hadn’t noticed that your hips twitched a bit, calling out to her, your eyes opening briefly to lock with hers, the sight of her deep brown against your beautiful E/C being enough for her to see that you were in fact alright. Avis returned then quickly to her previous persona and inflicted one more smack, this time over both of your cheeks, your lower lip in between your teeth to prevent a moan from escaping, as the pain spiralled into pleasure so easily that it took you a few seconds to form the word she needed to hear. Fuck, it was delicious, you never wanted her to stop whipping you, you wanted to stay in this cloud of pleasure forever if she would allow it, but then the tenth and last smack came and it landed so hard against your skin that you screamed, your eyes filling with tears, the sting feeling like actual pain that you were certain you would not be able to withstand if she still had a few more spanks left. And yet it sent a jolt of pleasure so strong down to your core that you felt a gush in between your legs, your cunt aching so bad for her touch that you were an inch away from madness. You hadn’t realised how rapid your breaths were until you felt the fabric of the carpet brushing against your nipples with each hurried puff of air that you tried to force into your lungs. There was a ruffling right next to you, Avis’s face coming into your range of vision, her left hand resting over the carpet while the other one caressed the skin of your shoulder, still holding on to the riding crop, rubbing tender circles. You smiled at the gesture and after locking eyes with her you uttered the last word in a quiet voice filled with desire and a hint of relief.

-Ten. Did I do well, mother?

-You did very well. You were my very good girl, taking them all and never missing a number. – she gently took your hands and pulled you into a sitting position, a hiss slipping from your lips when you rested your buttocks on the heels of your feet. She would have asked if you were alright, but you clearly had enjoyed it, if the way your body had responded was anything to go by, her eyes having seen your thighs coated in your arousal. She pecked your shoulder, her hand caressing your upper back, moving gently over the red marks to sooth them. - You will not step out of line again, will you, darling?

-No, mother.

-Then I think a reward is in order. Is there anything my good girl wants mama to do to her?

-I want you to tie me mother.

-If that is what my baby girl wants, that’s what she’ll get.

She pulled you up until you were standing before her, legs slightly shaky but you stayed upright when she let go of your hands. The suitcase she had brought upstairs laid open over the covers, your eyes observing several items that rested inside it, over a satin liner: a blindfold, rich feathers, ropes and what looked to be a leash. She really had done her homework on the matter. She had turned around the bed to pick it up and place it over the settee at the foot of it, also taking the time to remove the covers and throw them on the floor. You were now standing on opposite sides of the bed, but Avis’s hands were not free anymore, she had a set of salmon-coloured ropes in between them, her fingers toying with one of the ends. It didn’t matter how many times she had seen you naked, you were still exceptional every single one of them, the evening light coming through the window giving you an ethereal look as its halo wrapped around your frame, your beauty doing things to her that she couldn’t put into words. Her body bent forward as one hand patted the mattress, signalling for you to hop on the bed which of course you did in a heartbeat, moving slowly, never breaking eye contact with her. You hadn’t noticed that the carpet had dug into the skin of your knees until they rested over the soft bedsheets and bland mattress that dipped as you rested your weight over it. Crawling towards her you were stopped by a gentle hand on your chest, your body following every cue she was giving you, from the way it pushed you away from her so you would be in the middle of the bed to the way she turned you and pushed you onto your back, laying fully over the mattress. The headboard had several pillows and cushions resting on it and Avis, as caring as she was, picked one up and pushed it under your hips to help with the sting and leftover pain on your ass cheeks.

She was being extremely tender with you, maybe because you had given her a couple of scares, but you did not mind this treatment, her hands grabbing yours and beginning to wrap the rope around your wrists making sure they were tight enough that you wouldn’t accidentally slip out of the hops but lose enough that they wouldn’t hurt you and draw out blood, though something told her that in the future you two might discuss such a topic. She finished by tying a knot, pulling the rope to try it out before she pushed your arms above your head. The headboard didn’t have any hooks or bars that she could tie the ends to, so she had to get a bit creative, kneeling on the floor to tie one to the foot of the bed before rounding to the other side and doing the same. You were now perfectly secured, a look of lust and anticipation in your eyes, watching as Avis began to walk around the perimeter of the bed making sure to never let her eyes stray from your naked form. God, she had you completely at her mercy to do as she pleased with, idea after idea filling her head until finally, she settled on one specific thing. From the foot of the bed and over the settee, she crawled on top of the bed, her hands running from your feet to your knees, parting your legs to accommodate herself in between them, resting her palms over your hip bone. Her lips made contact with your skin, trailing kisses from your abdomen all the way to your sternum, moving up to your neck and jawline, her mouth kissing the shell of your ear.

-You’ve been such a good girl. You want mama to touch you, don’t you?

You nodded, the feeling of her lips over your skin a most addictive sensation, and you knew she was not one to disappoint, retracing her steps while deliberately not touching your breasts, leaving wet patches over your overheated skin. She came to sit back on her knees, your fingers feeling the rough material of the rope as you watched how she removed her hands from your body and began to run them over her own from her hips all the way to her breasts, playing and kneading the flesh through her clothes, throwing her head back to give you an even better show. And then her fingers unclasped the first hook, her ample breasts one step closer to freedom. You were watching her with unbridled attention, pulling unconsciously on the ropes in an attempt to reach her and unclasp it yourself needing to touch her skin, but this was her fantasy now, having you at her mercy. Her fingers moved over the pink lace on the sides of the garment, playing with the boning until her hands reached the clips that had previously been holding her stockings, twirling them around until she unclasped the hook at the end of the garment letting your eyes see a bit of the perfect skin above her knickers. Your mouth was both dry and watering at the sight, breaths coming in hurried puffs as she trailed her hands back towards her tits and unhooked another one, her ample breasts nearly escaping from the corselette. They were so beautiful, and you wanted nothing else than to bury your face in between them, your arms moving a bit more frantically, the rough material of the rope digging slightly on your wrists forcing you to stop.

She was a perfect seductress, a temptress, removing her garment with slow steps as to drive your lust through the roof, but you could not beg her to be faster nor plead with her to let you touch her; you were not going to risk breaking another rule. She was only one hook away from being completely naked from the waist up and yet her hands did not go for it, they went to your feet, tracing the shape of your shin and knee, her lips planting sweet pecks on your inner thighs as your eyes glued to the way her breasts were screaming to be freed, hanging on by a thread. You honestly did not know which was better, the sight of her or the way her lips were kissing that sensitive skin in between your legs, scraping her teeth and nibbling gently, leaving angry red marks that her tongue soothed, her hands kneading the flesh around your hips almost as if she were ready to hold you in place should you start ruffling around. With each peck so got closer to your dripping cunt, the smell of your arousal so intoxicating that part of Avis wanted to simply bury her face in it and never let go, but you had bit her before, another infraction that she hadn’t forgotten about, and she had to punish you for it. Her lips left a kiss on the skin between your inner thigh and your cunt, hips buckling on their own towards her face, but the action only added to the fuel to tease you, and she slapped the side of your hip before pushing herself back to sit on her knees, the corselette slightly askew but her tits still hidden from your sight.

And then her hands traced her collarbone, the valley between her breasts and began to toy with the hook, your hands pulling on the ropes as your fingers wrapped around the cord in excitement. In slow motion she unclasped the corselette, your eyes watching at her delightful breasts bounced out of their confinement and the garment fell over the mattress behind her, a raised eyebrow and filthy smirk topping it all off. Fuck, you could have cum just from the sight of her. With cat like grace, she crawled back on top of you, both hands resting on either side of your head inching closer and closer to you mouth until finally she kissed you. You hadn’t realised how much you had craved her lips over yours until she was crashing them against your mouth, tongue battling against tongue to assert her dominance over you, though she didn’t need to, you were her slave, her submissive little girl. Your hands fought against their restrains as the need to touch her grew, but she paid it no mind, breaking the kiss to bite down hard on your lower lip, a gasp escaping your mouth as she drew blood, her tongue tracing the wound to pick up the droplet that had formed. The taste was metallic, but it mixed with the alcohol of her martini and the sweet essence that was you like a perfect drink. She began to play with you in earnest as her lips journeyed down the shape of your neck, biting and sucking on your pulse point hard so that there would be a mark left behind, eyes rolling to the back of your head briefly at the feeling, the bed moving slightly as your arms pulled against the ropes.

Your neglected breasts were calling out to her, kisses tracing the shape of the plump flesh before she popped one of your nipples in her mouth, twirling the pink bud, nibbling and sucking. You could not help it, a string of moans made their way out of your throat, the skin of your wrists stinging as you pulled harder to free your hands to thread your fingers in between her curls, but it was to no avail, she had tied them properly. Her attention moved to your other tit, teeth biting down to make you scream, and you were sure that this time people might have heard you through the open window, though you couldn’t give two shits with the way Avis’s hands and mouth were playing with your breasts, every sensation sending a jolt of pleasure down to your core that ached so bad for her you weren’t sure you would be able to hold off your orgasm for more than a few minutes. She loved playing with you, but there was a growing need to taste you, so her lips released your nipple after one finally suck, a deep moan emanating from your mouth, before she traced the shape of your sternum and began to move downwards through your abdomen and hips, sucking on the skin over your bone making sure to leave a bruise. It was a trait mark of hers at this point to always leave some sort of bruise on your skin, you supposed that it was her way of making sure people knew you belonged to someone. The anticipation was skyrocketing, hands actively pulling on the ropes now, the thick cords digging onto your skin as her mouth left a kiss over your pubic bone before your cunt was face to face with her, your glistening folds such a delicious sight. Wanting to prologue her teasing for a bit longer she slid her index finger up and down your cunt, a mix between a growl and a moan reverberating from your throat with each swipe, her fingertip brushing over your swollen clit.

-Fuck! - the touch sent sparks all throughout your body, your hips buckling against her hand as your head lulled back exposing your neck to her. She stopped all motions suddenly, a whine coming from your parted lips, forcing your eyes to open and look at her with a questioning glance.

-Did I tell you, you could speak, dear?

-N… No, mother.

-Then I should perhaps leave you like this until you learn to ask for permission.

-No, mother! I promise I won’t do it again, I’m sorry.

-Don’t apologise Y/N, never break a rule again. – her hands dug into the skin of your hips, her breath ghosting over your cunt, the warmth contrasting with the cooling sensation it gave you. - You know that if you want something from mama, you only have to ask.

-May I… may I speak, mother?

-Since you asked you nicely… you may.

A wave of relief washed over your body, but it was short lived as her mouth came crashing down over your cunt, and suddenly the only thing you could feel was pleasure. She was fucking fantastic with her tongue, lapping up and down your folds like a starving woman, gathering your juices and drinking in your sweet taste as her ears were graced with every moan and profanity known to humankind. Your arms hurt from the strength you were using to free yourself, the skin of your wrists probably red and raw as you thrashed around, head rolled back as she wrapped her lips around your swollen bud, twirling it up and down, from side to side. Every single movement was making your orgasm build faster and higher, pants and screams increasing in pitch. It was overwhelming the speed at which it was all happening, Avis pushing a finger inside you, curling and touching your sweet spot, the pleasure clouding your visions.

-DONTSTOPDONTSTOPDONTSTOP! FUCK AVIS!

She doubled her efforts now, pumping in and out of you as fast as her arm would allow her, feeling your walls clenching around her fingers harder with each passings minute. At the last second, she changed positions, her hand never stopping but her mouth releasing your clit, her body climbing over yours as her free hand came to rest next to your head. You had taught her a trick on New Year’s, and she had been waiting for the right moment to use it, and now seemed like the perfect moment, her hips slamming into her hand to use the momentum to pound into you, her thumb rubbing your bud. The force of her hips made your body rise and fall on the bed, your legs wrapping around her waist to keep her in place as you screamed higher and higher. You were so close, so fucking close, Avis pushing a second finger inside you, her mouth right next to your ear as she whispered.

-Cum for mama, darling.

And everything went white. Every single nerve in your body was burning bright, limbs twitching under the power of the orgasm she was giving you, her hips slamming into yours at a murdering pace, never stopping, never faltering, your hips trusting to meet her as your world filled with an explosive amount of pleasure and joy, screaming her name over and over. You were sure the skin of your wrists was broken by now, bleeding maybe, but you didn’t care, you were using the ropes as leverage to meet her movements like a psycho woman. It was insane all the things she was making you feel, that she had made you feel throughout this little escapade, but she was not letting up, your heart pounding against your ribs. You had not come down from your high when you felt a second one building deep in your core, Avis’s thumb putting a bit more of pressure on your clit making you jolt and yelp trying to escape her touch, but at the same time you just couldn’t, you were so close. She kissed your cheek as your breaths became ragged before returning in between your legs, her tongue taking every drop of arousal you had poured over her hand, her arm now a bit more relaxed after the break, but still pumping in and out, knuckles deep.

-YES! YES! GOD YES!

Her lips wrapped around you very swollen bud once more, twirling and sucking hard, your walls clenching around her fingers, your orgasm reaching a breaking point so fast that you almost felt like you couldn’t keep up. It was reaching a maddening point, her teeth scraping and nibbling, sending you over the edge for a second time, her hand pounding into you as with the other one she tried to still your manic movements against her face. The heels of your feet were digging onto the mattress as she carried on, fingers wrapped tightly around the thick ropes. She really was trying so fucking hard to squeeze every orgasm she could out of you, delighted in the way you thrashed around and called out her name in between pants. She could get a couple more, she was sure, adding a third finger, the sting of the stretch so delicious and almost a bit too much, but you pulled through, you could feel the third orgasm building so fast, so overwhelming under your hot skin, limbs twitching with every spark and jolt of electricity that Avis was producing with that gifted mouth of hers around your clit. It caught you by surprise when you had not come down and the third wave was crushing you under its explosive weight. This time there was a certain amount of pain spreading through every limb, your body moving, or trying to anyway, from Avis’s grip, needing her to give you a moment, but she did not stop, and you hoarse voice could not find the strength to scream any more, moans and pants the only thing echoing against the walls, sliding out the window.

There was no rhythm whatsoever to your movements, none at all as Avis continued with her assault on your extremely oversensitive bud, pumping her fingers in and out at a pace that you could not keep up with anymore. The pleasure that had built in your core was turning into pain, her hand not giving you a respite from all the sensations and powerful orgasms, because each of them had sent you to the fucking stars in one hell of an astral journey, but this time you couldn’t give her a fourth one. Your juices were dripping out of you onto the pillow underneath your ass while also all over Avis’s hand, mouth and chin. Suddenly you felt it all a thousand times clearer when, as you were rolling out of your third peak, you squirted all over her, the pleasure skyrocketing for a moment, your back arched off the bed, face turned to the side hidden by your arm, until the pain overtook it all. It spread to every limb, every cell of your body, her ministrations too fucking overwhelming that you could feel your lungs failing to breath, your head dizzy, the feeling that you might actually pass out filling your chest as your hazy mind tried to figure out how to tell her.

-Stop! Avis… fuck… Stop! BLACK! BLACK!

Instantly her movements stilled, pulling her fingers out of you and jerking her body into a sitting position before crawling fast to your side. The waves of pain and pleasure were still coursing through your body, but at least you could feel air passing through your lungs once again, the aching fading slowly as Avis quickly worked on the ropes to release your hands, taking them in hers once it laid on top of the pillows, forgotten. You had hurt your wrists she noticed, broken bleeding skin meeting her eyes before she gently placed them over the mattress to turn all her attention to you, pushing the sweat covered hair off your forehead. She should have noticed, she thought, she should have paid more attention to how ragged your breaths were, to how you were trying to pull away from her, worry and terror filling her chest as you remined laying there.

-Are you alright? Talk to me, please.

-Moment.

You needed a moment, okay, you had spoken, quietly, but spoken anyway, you were breathing, you just needed a moment. The dizziness was slowly fading as well, leaving traces of a light-headedness that you could cope with. Avis slipped from the bed to get you some water, rushing back to your side in under a minute trying not to spill it, keeping her eyes glued to your chest. It rose and fell at a slower pace, the raspiness it had held before no longer audible, your limbs motionless, completely spent over the mattress, only twitching every once in a while as the afterglow began to seep into your bones and muscles relaxing you, letting the scare pass. Avis could see that you were getting better, but that could not shake the feeling that she had accidentally overstepped, even if this was exactly why there was a safe word system. Her free hand caressed your forehead gently, the only sound in the room being your steady breaths. After a few minutes you opened your eyes slowly to meet a pair of brown terrified orbs.

-Are you okay?

-Yeah. It was… just a bit much.

-Here, drink some water. – she helped you to sit in bed, placing the glass against your lips and tipping it so you could drink, neither of you trusting your arms to hold it. Once you were done Avis placed the glass on the nightstand, quickly returning her attention to you as her hands rested on your cheeks. – Are you sure you are fine? I can take you to a doctor if you need one.

-I’m okay. You were doing great; you were just not giving me time to rest and I kind of nearly passed out. I would have been fine if I had fainted, you would have needed to give be some more time to recover, but I didn’t want to scare you like that.

-As if this didn’t scare me already.

-We’ll get better, I mean neither of us are used to doing this on a daily basis. Maybe we need to learn how to read the cues that each other’s bodies are giving us, pay a little more attention before we carry on.

-You don’t want to stop? You nearly passed out.

-If you mean as of right now, I think I’m done Avis, but I don’t want us to not try again some other day. We need to be more careful next time, that’s all. By the way, what were you trying to do?

-Overstimulate you. – she could not help the chuckle that escaped her, her forehead resting against yours for a moment before she pecked your lips and sat back, taking your hands in hers to take a look at your scrapes. They weren’t too bad, but it would be best to bandage them.

-Well, you certainly cracked it.

-Oh, shut up. You really scared the shit out of me just now. I don’t think I want to do this particular thing again.

-Well, I want you to.

-What? – her head rose to look at you, surprise not even covering what she was feeling as your eyes smiled gently at her.

-Yeah, I was liking it until I panicked, but now that I know that this are the signs, I can give you a warning. We just need to learn Avis. You’ll be a pro in no time.

-You are masochist.

-Maybe. We can look into that some other time. Right now I believe that there’s a round two due.

-You want to carry on? You nearly fainted on me Y/N!

-Oh, don’t worry, I’m done, but that doesn’t mean that you have to be.

-I don’t need to continue, you’ve pleased me enough.

-I’ve been mama’s good girls, I know, but I think that after doing so well just now, a reward is due.

-A reward? What reward? – your face moved until it was inches away from hers, lips ghosting over lips as your hands travelled up her thighs towards her hips, fingering the fabric of her knickers.

-I want you to let go for me Avis. Let me take you to Dreamland.

There really was no need, but how could she say no when your eyes were pleading with hers like that. She found herself nodding, letting you move her around until she was the one sitting on the spot you had just been in over the mattress, the ruined pillow ending up on the floor. Your lips met hers in a sweet kiss, tracing the shape of her mouth with your tongue, the line of her jaw and licking that spot that always made her moan under her ear. What a delightful sound it was. You carried on tasting the skin of her neck and sucking on her pulse point until you were sure you had left a mark, but at least this time you wouldn’t have to worry about her husband finding out. Your teeth scraped the shape of her collarbone and left a wet trail down her sternum and in the valley between her breasts, her hands moving to thread her fingers in your hair. As you moved your body downward on the bed you felt the opened suitcase with your foot, an idea assaulting you suddenly. You met her deep eyes, whispering tenderly against her lips.

-Do you trust me?

-Yes.

-Then close your eyes.

She held your gaze for a second before following your words, her ears picking up on some ruffling sounds and the shift of weight on the mattress. She was curious about what you had planned, maybe you were going to tie her, maybe you were going to spank her and punish her for nearly leaving you unconscious in a hotel room. The sky is the limit. Your hands caressed the shape of her arms, a piece of fabric following your fingers until she felt something covering her eyes, her long eyelashes pressed against white satin. So, you were going to blindfold her, well, that was something she had not considered, but she wasn’t going to complain. Now that her sight was gone all her other senses heightened, her ears picking up every single breath you took, the way the bedsheets ruffled under both your weights. Your lips landed on her shoulder, pecking and drawing a gasp as her hands gripped the sheets, each kiss leaving a path of goosebumps over her skin as your fingers begun toying with the waistband of her knickers. Each touch felt a thousand times better, each kiss leaving her wanting more. Suddenly your breath was in her ear, making her turn her head toward the sound of your voice.

-Lay down for me Avis.

With her hands in yours she let herself fall gently on the mattress, her head coming to rest over a soft pillow. She had expected for you to start kissing down her body, but she couldn’t feel anything, she couldn’t hear you either, her heart pounding in her chest. A soft warm object that felt much like fur landed on her chest, her breath hitched in her lungs at the sensation, and as it moved down in between her breasts and abdomen she felt like the path it had left was fire. The unknown object changed places and was now following the line of her shin and thigh, her head turning instinctively towards the left side, gasps sliding from her ajar lips with each new touch. Her mind was a bit hazy with how it all felt, but after a moment it clicked that you were using the bright white feather that she had had in her suitcase. Weren’t you a sneaky one. You had moved it to her neck, the touch sending a shiver down her spine before your lips came to connect with the skin of her sternum, adding to the goosebumps that already painting every inch of her body. She had never known that losing her sight, even if it was momentarily, could make everything else just spike, your kisses leaving her flesh ablaze as you moved down her abdomen.

Suddenly your lips left her skin, and she felt your weight go to the side of the bed and then return in between her legs, unsure what was going on, her head moving from side to side trying to pick up anything at all. A slashing sound cut through the air and landed with a cracking smack right beside her right hip, over the mattress, Avis’s body jolting at it. Oh God, were you going to spank her? The thought made her heart race, her breath hurried in anticipation but the expected command to turn around an place herself on all fours never came, and the leather only landed over her skin the same way the feather had. It was such a contrast, the material completely different, and the cooling touch it left on her thigh driving her mad. You slid the riding crop down to her foot and then rose it until rested under her chin, lifting her head slightly to grant you a better access to her neck, lips latching to her pulse point as if you needed it to live. A moan escaped from her throat, her hands patting your head until she was able to thread her fingers in between your soft locks, grounding herself as the feather began to move down her right arm. She couldn’t get enough of all the sensations that were rushing through her body, the fabric of her knickers an obstacle at this point, hoping you would do something about it soon.

Lifting yourself back onto your knees she had to let go of your hair, hands dropping to the sides as suddenly the cold leather of the riding crop slid over her left breast, playfully slapping her nipple. That simple action made Avis arch her back, a yelp and a moan mixing in the hot air around you, the feather now running over the skin of her inner thighs, her reflective instinct being to buckled her hips and at the same time to try and push her legs together, but as you were in between them she could not, your hands coming to rest on her hip bone to still her. The way she was responding to you was delightful, every sound, every movement was simply exquisite, but you wanted more. Your fingers slid to the waistband of her underwear, pushing them slowly down her legs until they laid on the floor, Avis’s body completely bare for your eyes only. She could not see the way you were drinking her in, her hands grasping the sheets as she impatiently waited for you to do something, the anticipation driving her insane with desire. The feather returned to the valley between her breasts, travelling down until it moved over her dripping cunt, the sensation making her arch her back once again and lull her head back, buckling her hips towards you, but you were not done.

Her ample breasts were screaming for you to touch them, you could almost hear them as you buried your face in between them, kneading the flesh and rolling her nipples with your thumbs as you licked and nibbled at the skin. You were torturing her, a delicious playfulness that she could not get enough of, your lips so gentle while your hands gave her tits a more rough treatment. Satisfied with her pants and gasps you proceeded to pop one nipple in your mouth, sucking hard and scraping the sensitive bud with your teeth, your name slipping out of her mouth with a scream as the hand that had rested on your head now pulled, the sting on your scalp not that much of a foreign feeling to you. Your mouth felt like heaven, each touch and feeling driving her core to burn brighter and hotter for you, a plead nearly coming out of her mouth, but she was unable to speak as you moved to her other nipple, biting down instead before twirling it around with your tongue. Her brain was turning all mushy with the way you were kissing, your hands rubbing circles on her thighs.

-Y/N, please.

-Please? – you released her nipple with a loud pop, the leather of the riding crop returning to slide up and down both arms. -What do you want Avis?

-Stop teasing.

-And if I stop, what would you want me to do?

-Eat me out.

-Is that so? Well, I am here to please.

She gasped and yelped as you smacked the leather tongue gently on the side of her hip before she felt the weight shift between her legs. The first swipe of your tongue had her eyes rolling to the back of her head, a curse slipping out without her being able to stop it, not that she would have. You had missed that salty taste that was Avis, you had nearly forgotten the way her skin felt under your palms, the sounds that only your ears would hear. You had missed everything that was Avis in this past week, and the only thing you wanted to do was make her forget all the stress and frustration that life had brought her way. Your tongue lapped in between her folds so easily, your fingers parting her entrance so you could push it and out of her, the moans that reached your ears such a melodious sound to hear. What you were doing to her felt like electricity in every cell of her body, the tactile sense having heightened more than a hundred percent, driving every single touch to feel as if it was the most wonderful thing she had ever felt in her life. Without warning, and without need, you pushed two fingers in, a scream reverberating from her throat so loudly that it was a matter of time when you would have a worker from the hotel knocking on your door, but until that moment came you were going to try your best to make her voice be heard all throughout Hollywood.

Your arm pumped your fingers in and out of her fast and without a care in the world, pushing them out almost completely before returning them inside her hot velvety cunt until your knuckles were nestled between her fold, curling your fingertips enough so you would touch that wonderful spot inside her. This went on for a few minutes, your eyes taking in the way she thrashed around the bedsheets, her hips buckling and thrusting against your hand to match you. Her neck and chest were red, both from the exertion and due to every little mark you had left on her soft flesh, a thin layer of sweat forming all over her body. Her moans were beginning to rise in pitch, her orgasm getting closer and closer, but you wanted the whole experience to be monumental, your mouth returning to her cunt to suck her folds and lick them before twirling her swollen clit with your tongue, the bud moving up and down as you toyed with it, a hand suddenly on your head pushing your face closer to her if that was even possible.

-God Y/N! You are wonderful! FUCK!

You could not help it, you wanted to see her unravel before you, and so you pushed a third finger inside her, the stretch bring on a fluttering of her walls, the pace as fast as your arm and back would allow you and the sound of her juices quenching around you as you pushed your hand knuckles deep inside her so utterly filthy and sinful and yet, it was driving Avis insane. The sensation of the feather moving over her stiff nipples was enough to send her over the edge, but your lips sucking on her clit certainly gave her a better push, helping her tip over it. Her back arched off the bed, grinding her hips against your face maniacally as the peak of her orgasm exploded all around her.

-YES! YES! AHHHHH, YESYESYES!

Her throat would be raw tomorrow, maybe even this evening as her screams echoed and reverberated against the walls, leaving a slight ringing in your ears. The white-hot pleasure spread through every limb, her vision clouded with stars as you slowed your pace after a minute, helping her ride out her orgasm. She was not going to lie, every single peak you had given her had been marvellous, but what you had just done to her was beyond that. It had been mind-blowing, explosive, every single sensation multiplied by a thousand, shivers running from her core to the tips of her fingers and toes. She felt the hand that just had the feather rubbing circles on her thigh, your fingers slowing down ever further until she collapsed on the bed, her chest rising and falling in hurried pants, her hand releasing your hair and flopping beside her. Her walls still clung to your fingers every few seconds accompanied with her hips twitching, but you had to pull out, a whine slipping through her ajar mouth at the loss of contact. Climbing on top of her you carefully removed the blindfold, letting it fall somewhere on the side, her eyes lazily opening to meet yours after your lips pecked her cheeks and eyelids.

-Holy shit.

-I guess you liked it then.

-Liked it? If you don’t fuck me with a blindfold on at least once a week, I swear I’ll fire you from the studio.

-Well, we can’t risk that. I guess I will have to obey mother and blow your brains out. – the room filled with chuckles and laughter, only muffled by her lips claiming yours, her tongue running over your lower one tasting the wound she had inflicted, but you didn’t seem to mind one bit. Upon parting you moved off of her to let her sit, Avis quickly chugging down the water that had been left in the glass. – Do you want to tell me what happened at the office today?

-Oh, fuck no. But I’ll tell you this. It’s always fucking Lon.

-Why doesn’t that surprise me.

-Now is my turn to ask. How do you know the station? – Avis rested her body against the headboard, picking up the feather you had abandoned over the mattress to toy with it, her breath slightly hurried still.

-When I came here for the first time Ernie offered me a job as a secretary, and I took it. And before you ask, it was just that. About three weeks later a lady came and she would have none of the boys, so I offered myself. Ernie was happy, the lady was happy, she paid well and so he hired me. But as strange as it sounds, there is not that big of a market for ladies that want to be entertained by ladies, so Ernie decided to not put me on contract for that part of the business and when I read about that job offer in the newspaper that Miss Kincaid needed a secretary I applied and got it. End of story.

-But you still visit.

-Yeah, he lets me oversee the accounts, and he likes having interesting conversations. It can get a bit boring hearing his precious boys talk about how they want to be in the big screen.

-And am I a hot topic?

-Always. He has told me many secrets about you, but I’m afraid I cannot tell you. I wouldn’t want to break his trust.

-Oh? – she pushed herself off the headboard, crawling your way with a naughty smirk on her lips, her eyes narrowing as she got closer to you. – Is mama going to have to fuck them out of you?

-Perhaps. – she was sitting on your thighs now, your hands resting behind you as to stabilise yourself. - He’s a very good friend, I really shouldn’t tell.

-Doesn’t mama mean more to you than him? Doesn’t mama do things to you that no one else does?

-Yes. – The word came out more breathless than you had intended, but it did not matter. Avis pushed herself to the side and picked up an item from the suitcase that was behind you, showing you the long leash you had seen before, a leather collar attached to it.

-Then be a good girl and start talking or I’m going to have you at my feet all night long. Pet.

#avis amberg #avis amberg x reader #lilia calderu #lilia x reader #patti lupone #patti lupone x reader #we thank miss lupone simply for exiting #hollywood 2020

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krirebr · 1 year ago

Text

More Than This 3

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x f!reader, Steve Rogers & f!reader

Word Count: ~5.8k

Summary: Arranged marriages have always been used to solidify business deals among the ultra-wealthy. Your stepfather wants to be in business with Harlan Thrombey, so now it's your turn.

Warnings: Heavy angst, age difference, adult themes, institutional sexism, multiple references to vomit (but nothing graphic, I don't think), attempted sex that makes everyone sad - dubcon on both sides, explicit language, the slooowest burn - Warnings will be added as needed for subsequent parts. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: Alright friends, here we go! Now we're really in it.

A gigantic thank you, as always, to @paperweight91 for reading so much of this and talking it all through with me, especially the last section, which I've been anxious about since I originally conceived of it ages ago. You're the best, Chelsea!

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. And if you need to come scream at me, that's ok too!

As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

You heard Ransom get up in the early hours of the morning and stumble into the bathroom to retch. You were glad he didn’t choke on his vomit, you guessed. You were still on the couch with the TV turned down low. You wondered if he’d come out and see what you were doing, but he just stumbled back to the bed when he was done.

You didn’t hear him again for several more hours. In that time, you mostly watched TV, dozed a little, fucked around on your phone. Time passed slowly, but it still passed. Soon, the sun was coming up. You were moving across the country today. Your new life was starting whether you wanted it or not.

A few hours later you heard the beginnings of movement in the bedroom. You called down to room service and ordered two carafes of coffee, along with a few different breakfast options, ranging from light to extremely greasy. You didn’t know what his hangovers were like, what they required. But you knew that an especially moody Ransom wouldn’t do you any good. So, a peace offering of a sort.

The food arrived before he’d shown his face. As you looked at the cart, you thought that while you were trying to start things as well as you could for your own good, it didn’t erase everything he’d done the day before, how he’d treated you. So you made no effort to be quiet as you laid out the food and got the coffee ready. You may have banged the metal covers together as noisily as you could.

“What the fuck?” Ransom grumbled as he came stumbling out of the bedroom in just his boxer briefs. “Why is there noise?”

“Coffee,” you said, handing him the mug you’d filled. “I didn’t know how you take it.”

He took a sip and just grunted at you and then turned around and went back into the bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

You busied yourself by getting your own coffee and munching on some toast. You still had no appetite but figured you should probably eat something.

A few minutes later, he came back out with a now empty mug. He stopped and stared at you. “Am I still drunk or are you still wearing your wedding dress?”

You tried not to let your embarrassment show. “I couldn’t get it off by myself, so…” you trailed off and shrugged.

He looked at you for another moment then nodded once. “Give me a minute,” he said, as he poured himself another cup. He drank it quickly, then briefly held his head in his hands. When he looked back up, he took a deep breath, then mumbled “OK.” He came up behind you and lightly touched your dress. “Is there a trick to it?” he asked as he ran a finger down the seam.

“It’s a long line of hook-and-eyes, you know?”

He hummed and then started at the top. As he worked, he grumbled to himself, which made you feel a little better about not being able to get it off. You’d never stop being surprised by how gentle his hands were. It seemed to be in complete opposition to every other part of him. When he was about halfway down, his knuckles lightly grazed the bare skin of your back and a shudder ran through your whole body. “Sorry,” he said, softly. You just shook your head and didn’t say anything.

When he was done, he quickly took a step back. You held your dress to you, trying to preserve your modesty, even though you knew how silly that was. You just weren’t ready for him to see you, although you doubted that that mattered. “Thank you,” you whispered.

He nodded again, then “You mind if I take the first shower?”

You shook your head and he disappeared into the ensuite.

About an hour and a half later, you sat with him in the back of a town car, on your way to the private airfield where one of his family’s planes awaited you. Neither of you said anything. Ransom was staring at something on his phone, while you put all your energy into trying not to have a panic attack. You had no idea what was waiting for you in Boston. You weren’t ready for this. You couldn’t do it.

As the car pulled up to the hangar, you were beyond relieved to see Steve already waiting there, Lola’s travel crate at his feet. The moment the car was parked and turned off, you lept out, not waiting for anyone to open the door for you. You bent down in front of Lola’s crate first and carefully stuck your fingers through the door. “Hi, baby, I missed you.” She kissed your fingers and then whined to be let out. “Not yet, honey,” you said softly. “You have to wait til we’re on the plane.”

You stood up and faced Steve, who was looking you over carefully. “How are you doing?” he asked seriously.

You shrugged and sighed. “Freaking out a little, I guess, but it’ll be fine.”

“And if it isn’t, you’ll call me,” he said, voice firm. “I don’t care where you are or what time it is, you call me. Ok?” You nodded. He opened his mouth to say more, but then the call of your name came from over your shoulder.

You turned to see Ransom standing between you and the jet. Your heart dropped. No, not yet. You needed more time. You needed to be able to actually say goodbye. You couldn’t– “I’ll be on the plane,” he said, voice still scratchy and tired, sunglasses firmly on, despite the overcast day. “Take your time.” He turned around and began walking up the stairs.

You just stared after him for a moment, surprised. When you turned back to Steve, his lips were curled in disgust. But then the expression quickly changed to something much sadder. “I should have done more,” he said, “gotten you out of here, sent you away or something. I can’t–”

“Steve.” you interrupted. “Please stop. It’s no use now.” You couldn’t listen to any more of this. It had always been inevitable; it’d always been what you were for. Imagining anything else was useless.

Neither of you said anything for a moment, then he looked around and asked, “Are Dad and Lydia on their way?”

You tried to keep any hurt out of your expression when you said, “No, something important came up for Joseph and you know Mom has a hard time going anywhere by herself.” You ignored the cracks you heard in your own voice.

Steve’s brow furrowed in confusion and upset. “I would have picked her up,” he said. “Hell, I’ll go get her right now.”

“I know,” you said sadly. “I told her that, but you know how she is.” You dropped your eyes, not able to look at the anger you knew you’d see on Steve’s face. You were angry too, you were, but mostly now you were just sad. And after thinking about it all night, you honestly weren’t sure how much anger she deserved. She’d been broken for a long time. It’d happened before you’d even known her, probably. It’d been unfair, maybe, to expect her to be strong for you now when she’d never been able to be that before.

Steve said your name and you looked up at him. “You don’t deserve this,” he said firmly. “I know I’ve said it before, but I really need you to understand it. None of this is what you deserve.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, so you just nodded and muttered, “OK.”

He sighed and shook his head, then pulled you into his arms. “I’m going to miss you so fucking much,” he said into your hair. “I don’t know what I’m going to do without having you just a few minutes away to annoy whenever I want.”

You huffed a laugh into his shoulder. “I’m going to miss you too,” you said. “So much. Even when you’re being so annoying.” The tears were starting now, you weren’t able to hold them back. You pulled back and briefly got a good enough look at Steve’s face to see that his eyes were wet, too, before he knelt in front of Lola’s crate.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said quietly. “I’m going to miss you too. You take good care of your mom for me.”

You couldn’t help the little sob that came out of you at that. Fuck. Steve had been stuck to your side since you were six years old. Through absolutely everything. He’d been the one person you could count on for as long as you could remember. And now you were being dragged away from him.

He stood up and pulled you into another hug. “You’re so strong,” he whispered right in your ear. “Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

When he pulled back, you knew it was time to go, but you didn’t know how to pull yourself away. This all felt so final.

“Let me know when you land,” he said. “And when you get to the house. And just–” he sighed. “Everything. I want to know everything, ok?”

You nodded and tried to brush the tears from your eyes. “Yeah, ok,” you said, knowing you’d send him the exact amount of information that would keep him from worrying too much. You picked up the dog crate. You locked eyes with him one last time. “I love you.”

His voice was thick when he responded, “I love you too. I’m going to sit right here until you’ve taken off, ok? I’ll be right here.”

“You’re a good brother,” you said, as you slowly took your first step backward, toward the jet.

“Yes. I am,” he said with a smile that was half cocky and half absolutely heartbreaking.

With one last deep breath and an “OK,” that was mostly to yourself, you forced yourself to turn around and make your way to the stairs up to the jet. Once you were halfway up, you looked over your shoulder. Steve was leaning against his car. He gave you an encouraging smile and a small wave. You nodded and took the last few steps to board the plane.

A flight attendant was standing right there to greet you. “Welcome aboard, Mrs. Drysdale,” she said and you couldn’t help the way your mouth dropped open in shock. Mrs. Drysdale. That’s who you were now. You tried to pull yourself together and let her show you into the main cabin. It was mostly open, with a few plush seats and tables scattered around. Ransom was already in one, fully reclined with a sleep mask pulled over his eyes. He made no indication that he was awake, so you asked the attendant for a mask for yourself and a glass of water. As she went to fulfill your request, you opened Lola’s little cage and picked her up when she came out. She was nervous, shaking with her little tail tucked between her legs. “It’ll be ok,” you said softly, the tears threatening to stream down again. You took a deep breath and settled the both of you into a seat as far from Ransom as you could get in the small private jet. You gave Lola gentle pets until she sat down on your lap. “We’ll just take a nap,” you said, “and it’ll be over before we know it.”

“What the fuck is that?”

You woke with a start and pulled off your sleep mask. “Huh?” You sat up to see Ransom and Lola locked in a staredown.

“What is that?”

“I told you that I had a dog,” you said, confused.

“That!” Ransom yelled, pointing at Lola, “is not a dog. That’s a long-haired rat!”

“Hey!” you yelled back, just as Lola started retching. “Oh, baby, no!” You knelt down next to her just as she puked right at Ransom’s feet.

“What the shit?!” he cried out, jumping back.

“She’s stressed, ok? It’s not like I can explain to her what a plane is or where we’re going!” You grabbed what was left of your water and the napkin the flight attendant had brought with the glass and tried to clean it up. “Shit,” you mumbled to yourself.

“What are you doing?” He stood over you with his hands on his hips.

“I’m cleaning it up so you don’t freak out, ok? It’ll be fine, just give me a minute.”

“Get up.”

“What?”

“You don’t need to do that. The crew probably has a steam cleaner or something. My dad uses this plane. I’m sure they’ve seen worse.” He walked to the front of the cabin and knocked on the divider. When the attendant came, Ransom quietly told her, “The dog got sick. I assume you have something to clean it up.”

She nodded and quickly came out with a portable steam cleaner and made quick work of Lola’s mess.

“Thank you,” you told her.

“No problem at all, Mrs. Drysdale,” she smiled and went back to the galley.

“Well, that’s a real mindfuck,” Ransom said as he flopped back into his seat. He glared down at Lola, “She gonna do that again?”

“I don’t know,” you said, gently picking her up and holding her close to try to comfort her.

He pulled his sleep mask down over his eyes. “Great, love being a rat-dog owner.”

“She isn’t your dog,” you said curtly.

“Whatever. This hangover is still pounding against my skull. Wake me when we land.”

When you landed in Boston, Ransom led you to where his vintage beamer was parked and you both squeezed into it. The slightly hysterical thought struck you that it wouldn’t be suitable at all once there was a baby to cart around. You pushed that thought away. No use getting ahead of yourself.

Ransom’s house was on the edge of the city, surrounded by more trees than you expected. From the outside, it was mostly glass. Very modern. It felt cold.

He parked the car and grabbed the few bags you both had with you. The rest of your things would be delivered the next day. He showed you inside without much pomp or circumstance, just walked in ahead of you, and left the door open.

The majority of the first floor seemed to be one large, open-plan room. It was sparsely decorated and the pieces that were there seemed to be lifted wholesale from the pages of an upscale furniture catalog. There was nothing of Ransom in this house. Not that you really knew him well enough to say, but you didn’t think there was any information to be gleaned from his living space either. It all felt very empty. It was not what you had expected.

You set Lola down on the hardwood floor and she immediately ran off to explore. You crossed your fingers that she wouldn’t get into anything, not able to forget Ransom’s threat that he’d make you get rid of her if she messed anything up. You glanced over at Ransom to gauge if he was upset that you’d let her roam on her own, but he wasn’t paying any attention, leafing through a pile of mail left on the kitchen island.

He must have felt you watching him, because without looking up he said, “Bedroom’s upstairs. I’ll bring our things up later.”

You nodded even though he wasn’t looking at you. You grabbed your bag, not wanting to wait for him, and made your way up the staircase in the middle of the living room. Judging by how he’d treated you so far, you figured he planned to tuck you away in some guest room, out of his way except for when he needed you. It wasn’t unheard of in marriages like this, and you would honestly be grateful to have your own space. But as you looked through the rooms upstairs, you found a home gym, a study, and 2 storage rooms. There’d also been a bathroom and a few closets. The only room left had to be his, but you couldn’t imagine he’d want to share that with you. You very gingerly walked in and set your bag at the foot of the bed. You didn’t spend any more time there, afraid that you might be wrong.

When you went back downstairs, he was now rummaging through his fridge. “I put my bag in the bedroom upstairs,” you said to his back.

He just grunted his assent, then came out with two glass containers in his hands. He plated them both and put one in the microwave. “I have a housekeeper that comes three times a week and usually prepares meals for the whole week. You can give her any food preferences you have.”

You nodded. “I enjoy cooking,” you said, your mother's advice to ‘keep him happy’ floating in your mind. “I can make dinner too, sometimes.”

He nodded and shrugged as he took the plate out of the microwave and placed it in front of you on the island. You took a seat on one of the stools. “If you want,” he said, “but I don’t expect it.” He put his own plate in the microwave.

“Do you have any other staff?” you asked.

He shook his head. “Not for the house, not right now.”

You understood the implication that the staff would grow as your family did. A nanny, a driver, a gardener maybe, if you moved to a house that required one.

It was the lack of a driver that made you nervous. You’d never gone without one at home. You also hadn’t seen a large garage on the property, so you guessed there weren’t any extra cars around. You felt stuck in this house already, shut in like he didn’t want you to leave.

When his food was heated, he sat beside you and you ate together in silence. The food was fine, you were sure, but you couldn’t taste it. Your mind was ahead of you, wondering what the rest of the night held.

When you were done, Ransom loaded your dishes into the dishwasher and then said, “I don’t know about you, but I’m beat, so I’m just going straight to bed. Feel free to stay up if you want. I’m a heavy sleeper so you won’t wake me when you come in.”

“Oh,” you said, trying to hide your surprise. So he did intend for you to share his room. But apparently, just for sleeping. You were relieved. You were. The little voice in your head that wouldn’t stop whispering that he didn’t want you didn’t count. “I’m still three hours behind, so I might stay up a little longer.” Doing what, you had no idea. You didn’t have any of your things and you weren’t sure what was off-limits here yet. And you were exhausted, still hadn’t recovered from not sleeping the night before. But you just couldn’t deal with the awkwardness of going to bed at the same time as him.

“OK,” he said and then just stood there, looking surprisingly lost. After a couple of endless minutes, he just said, “Goodnight,” and finally went upstairs.

You grabbed your phone out of your handbag, unsurprised to see multiple messages from Steve, checking in on you. You sent him one back, assuring him that the flight had been fine, the drive to the house was fine, you were fine. You collected Lola from where she was curled up on a rug, quickly fed her and let her out, and then brought her and her crate upstairs. After a few minutes of internal debate, you decided to set her up in the gym, fairly certain that even in her crate, Ransom wouldn’t want her in his bedroom. It took a lot of coaxing to get her in. She was so used to sharing your bed. She whined when you closed the little grate and your heart broke. “I’m so sorry,” you whispered. “You’ll get used to it. It’ll be ok.”

You quietly went into the bedroom and Ransom was, indeed, already asleep, spread out on his stomach again, but luckily this time only taking up one side of the bed. He’d left the lamp on the opposite side on for you. You took your sleep clothes out of your bag and brought your toiletries into the ensuite, unpacking only what you’d need for the night. His things were all piled around one of the side-by-side sinks, but the other was clear for you. You went through your nightly routine quickly and then went back into the bedroom and very carefully climbed into bed. He didn’t stir. You turned off the lamp and settled at the edge of the bed. Your exhaustion took you quickly.

When you woke in the morning, Ransom was gone.

Your things were delivered a few hours after you woke. You started by trying to organize the boxes into the least obtrusive pile possible. You hoped that if they were tucked into a corner, he wouldn’t be too annoyed while you took your time going through them. You started with a few of the smaller boxes, unpacking the items into places you hoped they could go.

You took Lola for a walk around the neighborhood. It was sparsely populated, the houses spaced far apart. You didn’t run into any neighbors.

One of the walk-in closets in the bedroom had been cleared out for you, so you spent the afternoon unpacking all your clothes. By the time you were done, it was time for dinner. There was still no sign of Ransom.

You fed Lola and helped yourself to one of the meals in the fridge. You ate alone and after you cleaned up, you dug a book out of one of your boxes and settled on one of the not-very-comfortable couches with Lola to read. You didn’t know if she was allowed on the furniture – you were sure she wasn’t, actually – but Ransom wasn’t here to see it, so you couldn’t find it within yourself to care.

As you were finishing the second chapter in your book, he walked through the front door. With how the house was set up, he had a clear view of you and Lola from the door. “Hi,” was all he said.

“Hi,” was all you could say back.

He just stood there for a moment and then took off his coat and shoes. “How was your day?” he asked, stiffly, as he came into the living room.

“Fine,” you said. Then you realized he was actually attempting conversation and added, “My things came, so I got started unpacking.”

He nodded, “That’s good. Did you eat?”

“I did,” you said, hoping that was the right answer. “Can I get you some food?”

“No, I’m fine. I ate at the office.” Well, that answered where he’d been all day – his family’s publishing house.

He cleared his throat. “I’m going to go upstairs to unwind. Will you be heading up soon?”

Oh. Right. It’d finally come. “Yeah,” you said, your mouth suddenly dry. “I’ll just get Lola settled and then join you.”

He looked down at your dog in your lap like he was noticing her for the first time. But he didn’t say anything, just nodded and walked upstairs.

You let Lola out the back door for just a couple minutes, then took her upstairs. It was even harder to get her into her crate this time, even after you buried treats in her blankets. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you cooed, once you finally had her locked in. “I promise it won’t always be this hard and scary. It’ll be ok.”

Ransom was waiting for you in his room, sitting in an armchair by the window. “We should talk,” he said quietly.

“Ok.” You perched on the edge of the bed and did your best to look him in the eye, even as your heart was racing.

He took a deep breath and leaned forward. “We don’t–” he started, then another breath. “There’s nothing that we have to do tonight. I mean, we can certainly get the first time out of the way, if that’s what you want to do. But it doesn’t have to be now. We have time.”

You wanted to be relieved, but it just felt like delaying the inevitable. “We don’t, actually,” you said shaking your head. “We don’t have that much time. Especially if it takes a while. If there’s going to be an issue getting pregnant, on either side, I think the sooner we know the better. I don’t want to be blindsided by it when we only have a month left.”

“Ok,” he nodded. “That makes sense. Yeah, we can get it over with.”

You were proud of yourself for the way you didn’t wince at his phrasing, but it was a near thing. But was it really fair to be upset or hurt by that when it was how you were feeling too? You wanted to stop delaying it. You were ready to just know how it was going to be, what he would want. So yeah, maybe ‘get it over with’ wasn’t such a bad way to put it.

He stood up and sighed, looking like he was bracing himself. “I do need to know, have you done this before?”

You swallowed. The question wasn’t unexpected but you weren’t sure how to answer it and didn’t know which answer he was looking for. You decided to be honest and hoped it would be ok. “Yes, I’ve had sex,” you said, quietly.

He let out a long exhale in relief. “Ok,” he said, “ok, that’s good.”

You stood up, unsure of what to do. You just wanted to be on the other side of it. You suddenly thought of what you’d just told Lola. It wouldn’t always be this hard and scary. You would get used to it. You just had to get through this first time. And then you’d know how he was. Resolved now, you started taking off your shirt.

“Wait,” he said, breathed really. “Just wait.”

Your shirt was already halfway off, stuck on your arms above your head, so you shucked it the rest of the way and threw it on the floor, but didn’t do anything else.

He came over and stood so he was in your space. He brought his hand up to cup your face, his thumb on your cheekbone. And very slowly, he ducked his head to bring his lips to yours. There was something about it. The intimacy. Even with what you knew you were about to do with him. You just– A kiss was too much. You turned away. You couldn’t do it.

Instead, your hands went to unbutton your pants. You undid it slowly then bent over with your back to him to push them down your legs, sticking your ass out as much as you could. That was better than a kiss, right? You could make him want you.

You kicked your pants off and stood back up, looking over your shoulder to see him watching you. But his face was unreadable. You weren’t ready for him to touch you, so you said, “I can get myself ready for you,” hoping it came off coy, but you were afraid he’d be able to hear how your voice shook. For the briefest moment, you almost thought you saw something travel across his face. Disappointment, maybe. But it was gone too fast for you to be able to tell, and you were trying so hard to look away, anyway.

You got on the bed, lying on your back, sliding your panties off as seductively as you could. You closed your eyes tight and slowly moved one hand down your abdomen while the other started to play with your breast, cupping it, tweaking your nipple. As your other hand slipped between your thighs, you brought up your go-to fantasy. Nothing fancy or outlandish. Just a man standing over you, touching you, telling you how much he loved you, how much he loved your body. How he was going to ruin you, completely take you apart. You tried to focus on that as your fingers slowly made their way between your folds, as they made their way to your clit. But this room kept pulling you back to reality. You could hear Ransom taking his clothes off. You tried to ignore it. You were starting to get wet, slowly but surely, so you carefully pushed one finger inside yourself, trying so hard to focus on the man, his voice. You heard a bottle of lube flick open. No, no, you weren’t here, as you added another finger. You could hear Ransom’s hand on his cock now as your thumb continued to rub your clit. You opened your eyes despite yourself. Ransom was kneeling on the edge of the bed, stroking himself to hardness. It was the first time you’d seen him fully naked. He really was so beautiful. You sort of hated him for it.

You closed your eyes again. You could do this. You scissored your fingers slowly, opening yourself up, a little whine escaping your lips, when suddenly, you felt a hand wrap around your ankle. You wanted to scream in frustration. It was no use. Your hands dropped down to your sides. You were ready enough. It wouldn’t hurt, it was fine. You blinked your eyes open again to find Ransom staring at your face, searching for something. You couldn’t begin to guess what. “I’m ready,” you said.

“Are you sure?” he asked, voice soft, but gritty.

“Yeah, I’m good. How do you want me?”

He seemed almost startled by your question. “Uh, however you’re most comfortable.”

You nodded and flipped over onto your stomach, pulling your knees up toward your elbows and putting your ass in the air. This would be easiest if you didn’t have to look at him. If you could imagine someone else. Someone who loved you. Someone who wanted to be here.

You heard the bottle of lube again and then felt him settle between your legs. One hand was on your ass and you presumed he was using the other to line himself up. You pushed your face into the pillow underneath you. You tried to bring the fantasy back as he slowly eased inside of you. He was big, but not so big it hurt. You breathed through it as he worked his way in with short, slow thrusts. He was being so gentle with you. You weren’t sure if you liked it. The hand on your ass moved to your hip, while the other snaked around to your stomach, softly stroking you there, then moved down over your pelvis, and then finally between your thighs to search for your clit. He found it quickly. But no matter how hard you closed your eyes, his fingers made it impossible for you to pretend that it was anyone else with you, anyone else touching you. Without thinking, you pushed his hand away and replaced it with your own.

He was making little grunts and gasps behind you that you tried to ignore. You rubbed furious circles over your clit and tried to focus only on the fullness you felt. But then, that fullness started to lessen. The grunts behind you turned into a “Shit.” and then a “Fuck!” and suddenly, that fullness completely disappeared. You let out a little cry as he quickly pulled out of you. You turned around to catch a glimpse of his softening cock before he disappeared into the bathroom, the door slamming behind him.

You lay on your back for just a moment, your mind trying to catch up, figure out what on earth had just happened. That voice that had been there this whole time, since that first meeting a month ago, came back with smug satisfaction. He doesn’t want you, it said, over and over. Your thighs were sticky, probably mostly from the lube. You didn’t think your wetness or his precome had been enough to make a mess out of you. You got up, desperate to not be naked anymore. You grabbed a sleep shirt out of the closet you were using and slipped it on. You hugged yourself, standing in the middle of the room with no idea what to do.

In the silence, with nothing else to focus on, you were suddenly aware of Lola crying across the hall. Fuck. Everything just kept getting worse.

Ransom came out of the bathroom and went straight to the bed. He stopped at the foot, seemingly surprised that you weren’t still in it. He looked up and found you on the other side of the room.

“Is everything ok?” you asked quietly.

“It’s fine,” he said, voice sharp. You flinched and he sighed, then visibly tried to calm himself down. “It’s fine,” he said again, much softer this time. He held out a washcloth to you. “In case you need to clean yourself up.”

You took a few steps toward him so that you could grab it. “Thank you,” you said, as you quickly wiped between your legs, then went to finish cleaning up in the bathroom.

When you came back out, he was back in bed, on his back, just staring at the ceiling. “What’s that noise?” he asked.

“Oh, it’s fine,” you hurried to answer. “It’s Lola, but she’s ok. She just isn’t used to sleeping alone. She’ll get used to it, eventually.” Your heart broke as you spoke, but you knew it couldn’t be avoided.

“Where does she usually sleep?” he asked.

It took you a minute to answer, you were so surprised by the question. “Uh, with me,” you said.

“Then go get her,” he said, without looking at you. He hadn’t looked at you since you’d come out of the bathroom.

“Really?” you whispered.

“Yeah, if it stops her crying.”

You didn’t wait to be told again. You hurried across the hall and opened her crate, scooping her up into your arms. “I’m so sorry,” you cooed. “I’m so, so sorry. It’s going to be ok now.”

When you got back to the room, Ransom had turned off his light and turned over onto his side, facing the wall. You placed Lola on the bed and crawled in after her. As you turned off your own lamp, you whispered, “Thank you,” not sure if he was awake to hear it.

Tag list is open

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#ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x female reader #knives out #reader insert #fanfic #chris evans fanfiction #ce characters #steve rogers #steve rogers & reader #captian america #arranged marriage au #kris wrote something #more than this

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narfin-frood · 4 months ago

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Silly question but how do you art?

Or more like, how is your process to draw? Your lines and posing are so loose and show the feeling of a character so well, like, how do you make your art so real with only a few lines is what most amaze me. Anyway I hope I'm not bothering you and that makes sense, thanks for reading!<3

you're not a bother, don't worry! i'm not sure if there's an appropriately concise answer to a question like this, but i'll try to explain my process for poses a bit, and if there's anything else specific you'd like to know about my process, feel free to ask, and i'll try to answer!

for posing, i find it's very helpful to start by thinking about what situation the character is in. you don't need a location or a background or anything (unless you're being #serious about it). for this, i chose "picking up something way too heavy" (cont. under cut, wall of text ahead)

keeping it very simple is key!!! do not worry about details!!! i am very bad at this. i love to add a little detail or two, like his eyes or his little expression, but i have to catch myself before i get too into it, otherwise i'll forget the point of what i was doing and/or get bored. use just enough strokes to get the point across, and stop there (for now).

i draw fast and loose, with long strokes, which also happens to help with the problem that happens if you start with any specific part of the body. it's important to start with... everything at once, or else you won't be able to see what needs to be changed or fixed until it's too late and you've already decided on where you want the head and the left arm to be!

to display effort & strain without just contorting the character's face, you gotta think about just how heavy the object is, how one would go about grabbing it comfortably, and whether your character is smart enough to lift with their legs.

wander is great (read: BEST CHARACTER DESIGN EVAR. i love him kisskisskiss) because he's not grounded in any sort of reality until necessary, and his limbs have no bones, but he still has specific proportions and volumes to refer back to if you get carried away with the wackiness. posing a character made up of several noodles of varying widths is very simple, because you can do basically whatever you want to push and pull and make it as clear (and/or as funny) as possible.

start with your line of action, in this case the long line connecting his neck and his left foot. think about where the floor is, so you can make the feet of your character and whatever else is touching it coexist in the same reality. think about clarity: big, simple shapes are your friends, and if you're not getting the gist of the pose through the silhouette alone, try again! there's NO shame in hiding the first layer and doing a couple more sketches until you land on something you really like. Don't polish a turd, especially if you yourself think it's a turd. it'll make you feel like you're wasting time, and drawing is about having fun and experimenting, so if it's getting boring or frustrating, it's time to try something else.

wander and other characters with no bones and no rules are great for posing because you can do things like make their arms bend the wrong way just to play with the clarity of the pose. this:

un-breaks the arms and makes a little more sense for somebody with elbows, but some clarity in the action is lost when the arms don't curve upward and away from the very heavy object he's straining to pick up.

grounding your characters is both more complex and easier than it sounds, and it unfortunately requires you to think about perspective (i know. i know. i know it sucks and it's confusing. i hated it for a very long time but once it clicks, you'll have it in your brain forever)

fudging a perspective grid is fairly easy, just draw several parallel lines and have them get closer to each other as they recede into the distance, and then do it again in the opposite direction. you can use the transform tool in whatever program you use most to fudge this for even less effort, by just getting a png of a grid and fucking with it

now that you've got your floor, think about those feet. the grid makes it fairly easy to envision how a shoe would look sitting on that floor:

this is also where having an understanding of volumes comes in handy, because things farther in the distance will in fact look smaller, but it's up to you to figure out just how much smaller it would be in comparison to the other identical thing with the same volume that's closer to the camera. usually it's almost negligible, but it becomes easy to spot if it's a little off.

and here's the pose i settled on! i made his noodle arms more extreme for extra XD factor and i put him on his tippy toes for that extra bit of height!

a lot of the principles i'm talking about in this post i mainly pick up from consciously watching my favorite cartoons (and live action shows) and if i really, really like the way something is done, or if i see something that i've never really registered before, i'll screencap it or i'll pause or i'll just keep thinking about it until i draw again.

this is called "building a visual library" and it's the #1 easiest and most important way to practice. it requires no drawing, unless you want it to. look at lots of art by artists you love, and if you see something and you think to yourself, hey, this looks really good, by all means, absorb it.

art is great and it's really fun and there's literally nothing wrong with taking inspiration where you can find it!! seriously!!! absorb your favorite parts of every art style you find cool and fun and put it into your own! you're the only person who can draw the way you draw, and while replicating an art style is fairly easy (or it can be, depending), matching it perfectly is Literally impossible, so don't worry about being derivative. Nobody will notice, and if they do, it's okay to say you're inspired by them! encouraged, even!

my own art style, like everybody else's, is a frankenstein's monster containing all of the things i've loved before!!! and i think thats beautiful and if anybody tries to tell you you've gotta be 100% original and have "your very own style", they're a filthy liar and they're definitely (consciously or not) already taking inspiration and reference from the things they themselves find cool and awesome.

ANYWAY. wall of text over.

TLDR: draw quickly, use long strokes (try not to pet your lines), have a specific situation to put your character in, get familiar with volumes and proportions, and have fun!!!

#ask #wall of text #myart #wander

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mooshie-blue · 6 days ago

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My experience being AroAce and nonbinary

Other, if not most AroAce people have said that as kids or teens they never really felt romantic attraction, I’m the opposite, as a child I was obsessed with romance, I loved all the Disney couples, I loved Mario and Peach, I loved Wanda and Cosmo

As a child I always dreamed of having relationships of my own, dreams of finding someone who would be my “Prince Charming” I had crushes, etc. Once I reached middle school, where romance would usually start, I did get into relationships, But none of them really lasted, as time went on I learned relationships require so much effort and commitment, I couldn’t provide either, the only real relationship I had was really messy and was better as a friendship.

Most crushes I had on people since then I realize were mistaken, looking back I just really appreciated their friendship. Honestly I think I’m more comfortable not being in love with people, the idea if being with someone sounds amazing but when I really think about it, it just seems like a chore. I don’t mean to talk down relationships but due to personal experience it feels like once someone is in love with someone else, nobody else in their life matters.

But I feel so much more comfortable identifying this way, it feels correct of me, I still wish I could feel true romantic love for another people but my heart, funnily enough belongs to fictional characters, that’s another thing, this is a label I don’t really know how to approach but I think I’m fictosexual. Which has been said to be on the AroAce spectrum, since childhood I’ve been more attached to fictional characters, big example being Genie from Aladdin and most recently Captain Barnacles.

I really don’t know how else to put it, fictosexuality is trashed upon, and I’ll admit I still don’t quite understand it myself, but I’m pretty sure that’s what I am. And if you don’t like or accept it that’s not my problem.

As a kid, I was a girly girl, I liked princesses, I favored the sweeter female characters, my main in Mario kart was princess peach, I didn’t know transgender (or lgbtq as a whole) was a thing till I was 11, and even then I didn’t bother with it.

(My dad was and still is a 🍊supporter so yeah he didn’t leave a good impression on me) since like 2019 though, I started to wonder what I was, I knew I was a girl but, was I? I didn’t really think so, for a while I thought I was a boy, then I thought I was everything.

But I know what I am now, no, I don’t use binders, I don’t think I want to, I don’t experience dysphoria but I’m not exactly comfortable being perceived as just a girl. But I don’t feel like I have the womanly experience.

It feels wrong to call myself a girl, even though I’m perfectly fine being fem presenting. Hell I don’t want to call my birth name my deadname but I still don’t like the name I was given. I feel more myself when my name is Bonnie. I feel perfect.

Now more than ever, it’s important to share and uplift queer voices, I thought I’d share mine. Thank you for reading. ❤️

#fictosexual #aromantic #asexual #non-binary #lgbtq #Mooshie rambles

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frownyalfred · 7 months ago

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i LOVED the new eye in the sky chap! of course, you have the soul-crushing rage-inducing angst pile on bruce's end, but i also really appreciated the duke-hal moment; he's so level-headed about the situation that you don't really build up too much stress over him, but then you brought in a different kind of heartbreak with the realization that he's been in this position enough times to know that the least provoking thing he can do is to do nothing at all.

and the FUTURESPEAKING jesus CHRIST — it’s a different type, but your time manipulation fuckery is almost equally as hard to wrap your head around as the stuff in tenet (the nolan movie), it's genuinely so impressive. (sorry, i'm just gonna run my mouth here for a minute, but the idea really caught me and now i Have to share all my thoughts just to get them out of my brain, though i hope that you'll be generous enough to weigh in as well😅) i'd imagine that there's actually relatively very few people, in-universe, who can do this so that duke hears it correctly, because you have to be able to focus your mind and put enough intent into the idea that you're about to say something that it "registers" as the imminent future—which means that you have to, at the same time, be completely repressing your knowledge that you're NOT going to actually vocalize whatever it is, because that intention would obviously counteract the first. and THEN, to make what's already quite a tough mental exercise even more impressive, bruce is: thinking of a futurespeak-response, putting enough focus/intent behind it for that future to crystallize (and again, it's a double-headed task, because of the repression required as well), and then cutting that off in order to think of and say something completely different, *all in about just the same amount of time a normal person would take to respond naturally in a conversation.* (also, slightly less mind-boggling but still quite impressive to me and i want to give him his props: duke, in that last bit at the end at least, is maintaining both his awareness in the present and the mental effort of using his powers to see the future, in order to hear the exact same voice say two different things at the same time, and is able to not only maintain the background effort needed to hear both things, but is taking in enough detail to see/hear/notice "both" bruces' tone and body language. ...i mean, maybe that's not so impressive to people without auditory processing issues lmao, but as someone who's constantly asking people to repeat themselves, or really having to focus on the sounds when somebody's speaking to me, even in one-on-one conversations, it certainly impressed me!)

anyways, yeah, this just inspired a lot of interesting trains of thought for me and i wanted to share lol. your fics are always such great reads, can't wait for your next update! Hope you're well💜

Thank you so much!!!! You absolutely nailed what I was trying to get at with Duke’s powers. I really didn’t want over explain it and have people roll their eyes, but I also didn’t want to leave readers mystified as to what he was doing.

Duke and Bruce are supremely well matched in this fic for that reason among many others — Bruce has a freaky brain and understands time/intention well enough to be able to think, speak, and re-speak that quickly.

He can compartmentalize like no one else. I am not obviously that smart, but the way I thought about it was playing competing melodies on the piano with two different hands - once you find the rhythm, the way they work off each other, you can maintain both easily. Where they gap, where they overlap, where they compete for your attention.

Duke is good at glimpsing a few seconds forward/back but definitely not for long periods. Like Bruce said, he’s going to need help to train that and avoid burning himself out! Luckily he’s just listening and not double speaking like Bruce is.

Someone on ao3 left me this in the comment section and they’re so right lol:

I feel bad for Hal, just a little, just like Duke does. He was tortured by Kal essentially, and where he does want to hurt Bruce (a lot) there are still some lines he won’t cross. I don’t know if that makes him redeemable or just not entirely beyond redemption. I think Bruce seems to know this too — teasing him with that moral code he used to hold so tightly to.

It was definitely a fun space to play around in! Writing this fic is difficult for me (agh worldbuilding) but whenever I try I’m pleasantly surprised by how much fun I have. Thank you so much for reading!!

#asks #thank you!#myfic #bruce wayne #batman #dc #theresurrectionist #clark kent #eye in the sky #injustice #injustice gods among us #Hal jordan #green lantern #yellow lantern #Duke Thomas

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aychama · 5 months ago

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I'm sorry if this is too personal but did you had/have any art trauma caused by art teachers in school? And by trauma I mean some aversion to try learning one thing, because art teacher was just a dick. I have something like that with shading and it still holds after 6 years as a adult and I want to break it, but I cannot force myself to try it again and this holds my proggres as a ,,artist" and that's make me smad. I'm sorry once again if this is too personal or too hard to answer

Yup I did! Tho idk if I can call it "trauma" tbh

Oop I kinda went on a rant sorry lol

I studied ceramics in uni but I did have nude art classes and classes that required detailed art projects.

Although most of my uni time was wasted thanks to covid, I did get harrassed by a few of my classmates and my teacher in my last year.

My classmate had said that my art level wasnt good enough to be in this uni and my teacher yelled at me in the middle of class for like a week or two because I refused his ideas for my projects (he had given me the ok on the design before he changed his mind 180 and started pointing and laughing at me with my classmates while i worked on my ceramic project)

I eventually had to give up resisting because I wanted to pass the class and let him do whatever he wanted. (He legit just put clay on top of my design, smoothed it out and that was it in fact here is the design he gave me the ok to, the middle of my project and the way he stopped me)

After this I basicly didnt do anything more for his class, minimum effort. My days in Uni weren't all bad thank god but I was extremely unmotivated.

After I graduated, I didnt really draw or create much until my love for drawing rekindled with Cult of The Lamb! I love this game and Narilamb too much lmao-

But as for something similar to your experience I would say that I used to play the bass and electro guitar in highschool and we had to perform one day which I chickened out from that resulted in the music teacher getting angry at me. I dont play the guitar anymore :/ But my love for music hasnt died and I am using my love for art diffrently!

I would say that even if certain experiences deviates you from some topics, branches of art or people, dont let it kill your whimsy and ideas. You can always try out diffrent things to find something fun like diffrent styles of drawing, shading or no shading, diffrent mediums like digital or traditional, new or old techniques, weird colors or designs. You can always try out whats popular to see if you like it or not as well. You can also consume a lot of art media, educational or entertainment.

There is so many creative things you can try out, you dont have to be stuck on the past and that one shading idea your teacher tried to teach you ır tried to force onto you. I think you can go back to it after trying out many diffrent things to see if it was the technique or the teacher that ruined it for you.

If it was the technique, there are many MANY diffrent ones that you can enjoy!

If it was the teacher, Im not a therapist so idk what would be the right thing to say but healing takes time, sometimes the things people say never leaves you and sometimes you forget it 5 minutes later. You are a person with the ability to change, learn and grow. The only thing that is in your way is your 'will'. If you are willing to change, even if takes a long time, you will change! But if you dont want to, then no one can force you.

Healing and moving on is hard but not impossible. Dont let an asshole teacher get in the way of your growth ❤️

#vent #i think #ask #rant

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fairyminnie444 · 3 months ago

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First of all I want to say that I love your posts so much and thank you for offering the option to ask questions xD

I have been manifesting small things here and there but I never seem to manifest the bigger things that I want like for example a bf or whatever. The thing that stuck with me that I guess is affecting me is when I lost something really dear to me and I kept affirming doing everything I could but I do remember sticking with affirming and it didn't manifest at all. I will admit that I was probably wavering a lot and focusing on the time no matter how much I told myself that I wasn't and that I was doing everything right. That still haunts me and every time I want to manifest something I really want which to me is a big thing, I freeze and just don't do it or just give up in the middle. How can I manifest when I absolutely don't believe that I can?

Thank you Fairy. Ily ❤❤❤

Hi baby tysm 🩷🩷

First of all you need to stop seeing things like ��big” or “small”

Remember: you are the one who chooses everything about your reality. Manifesting 1 cent is the same thing as manifesting your soulmate if you decide it. The practice is the same.

So lets do this:

1. Understand What Went Wrong

You’ve already pinpointed the issue:

• Wavering: You affirmed, but deep down, you doubted.

• Focus on Time: Even though you tried to ignore it, you were still waiting for the 3D to change.

This isn’t failure—it’s simply feedback. It showed you what happens when your inner state is conflicted. Manifestation is not about how much you do but about who you are being.

2. Redefine What “Big” Means like i said before

• You see some desires as “big” and others as “small,” but this is a mental construct.

• Start affirming: “Nothing is too big for me. Everything I want is natural and easy to receive.”

3. Detach from the Past

The fear you’re carrying is tied to that past experience of “failing.” To manifest confidently, you need to rewrite this narrative.

• Ask yourself: What did that experience teach me? Maybe it taught you patience, persistence, or how to identify inner resistance.

• Now, imagine revising it. See yourself in that moment, feeling calm, trusting the process, and knowing everything worked out. Replace the fear with gratitude for what you’ve learned.

4. Start with Belief in Yourself

Manifestation doesn’t require you to believe in the outcome right away—it requires you to believe in your ability to create.

• Affirm: “I am the creator of my reality. Everything responds to me.”

• Focus on building faith in the process, not the specifics of your desire.

5. Commit Without Pressure

Instead of approaching your desire with tension or fear, treat it like a game:

• Visualize Playfully: Spend a few minutes imagining having your desire without needing it to happen. Just enjoy the fantasy like you would enjoy a dream.

• Drop the “Effort”: Stop trying so hard to make it happen. Assume it’s already yours and get on with your day.

6. If You Freeze, Focus on Self-Concept

When the fear of “failing” takes over, shift your focus from the desire to you.

• Affirm:

• “I am always chosen.”

• “Everything I desire flows to me effortlessly.”

• “I trust myself completely.”

This builds the foundation for your desires to come naturally, without resistance.

7. When You Doubt, Do This

If doubt creeps in, don’t fight it. Acknowledge it and remind yourself:

• “This is just my old story. I’m rewriting it now.”

• Journal or affirm through the doubt, but always end with confidence. For example:

• “I used to think I couldn’t manifest, but now I know it’s easy.”

• “Every time I doubt, it’s proof my manifestation is on its way.”

8. Celebrate Your Wins (!!!)

Every time you manifest something, no matter how small, celebrate it!

• This trains your mind to recognize your power. It’s proof that you’re always creating.

9. Trust the Process

You don’t need to force belief overnight. Just keep showing up with the intention to embody the version of you who already has what you desire. Be patient with yourself.

Remember:

“What you seek is already seeking you. The moment you desired it, it became yours.”

#law of assumption #loassumption #loa tumblr #manifesting #neville goddard #loa #loa blog #loass #manifestation #law of manifestation #loassblr #loass success #loass states #loassblog #loablr #loa success

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independentanon · 5 days ago

Text

It's Starting...

I don't know the legitimacy of this post, as this was posted very recently and I can't verify the source, but this post might be worth reading:

Mirror on Reddit:

Here's my copy:

Report from the Senate Floor:

“Last night in the Senate, something really important happened. Republicans forced us to debate their billionaire bailout budget framework. We started voting at 6 PM because they knew doing it in the dark of night would minimize media coverage. And they do not want the American people to see how blatant their handover of our government to the billionaire class is.

So I want to explain what happened last night and what we did to fight back. The apex of Republicans’ plan to turn over our government to their wealthy cronies is a giant tax cut for billionaires and corporations. And they plan to pay for it with cuts to programs that working people rely on. Popular and necessary programs like Medicaid, Medicare, and SNAP, are all being targeted.

In order to pass the tax cut, Republicans have to go through a series of procedural steps. Last night, they took the first step which requires them to pass an outline of their plan, but with it, any senator can offer as many amendments as we want. So my Democratic colleagues and I did just that.

Now, we knew that Republicans would largely unanimously oppose them, but we had two objectives here. One, Republicans were forced to put their opinion on record — many for the first time — on the most corrupt parts of Trump and Musk’s agenda. Two, as I’ve been saying, I am going to make every process and procedure as slow and painful as possible for as long as my colleagues choose to ignore the constitutional crisis happening before our eyes.

So what did we propose? We proposed no tax cuts for anyone who makes a billion dollars a year. We made them vote on whether or not Elon Musk and DOGE should have limitless access to Americans’ personal data. We made them vote on whether to protect IVF and require insurers to cover it. Every single amendment Democrats proposed was shot down. On almost every single amendment, Republicans universally opposed it. Every Republican voted against our proposal to prevent more tax cuts for billionaires. The corruption and theft is happening in the open here.

The whole game for Republicans is taking your money and giving it to the wealthiest corporations and billionaires — even if it means kicking your parents out of a nursing home or turning off Medicaid for the poorest children. They know what they are doing is deeply unpopular. They are offering a tax cut to the most wealthy that is 850 times larger than what they are offering working people. Oh and by the way, any tax cuts for working people are going to be washed out by higher costs for basic necessities, like health care and food. It’s a fundamental injustice.

Thanks to your pressure and support, many of my Democratic colleagues have joined my effort to do everything we can to make sure they cannot destroy democracy and steal your money in the dark of the night. We are being loud about what is happening. I’m going to continue to grind the gears of Congress down as much as possible to make it that much harder and slower to get away with this corruption. That’s why the votes lasted until nearly 5 AM.

This is a five-alarm fire. I don’t think we have two years to plan and fight back. I think we have months. It’s still in our power to stop the destruction of our democracy with mass mobilization and effective opposition from elected officials. So we can’t miss any opportunity to take advantage of opportunities to put Republicans on the record and shine a light on what is happening.

And you have a role to play in this as well. I need you to amplify what’s happening, support the leaders who are fighting for you to make sure they can continue speaking truth to power against Musk and Trump’s billionaire cronies, and show up at rallies and town halls. Use every tool at your disposal to send a message loud and clear about how you expect my colleagues to lead and fight in this moment.

Every best wish,” US Senator Chris Murphy (D - CT)

Might want to share this around, guys. Just in case it's legit.

#us politics #american politics #resistance #protest #america #usa #fuck trump #fuck elon #fuck zuckerberg #fuck the 1%

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king-manta-ray · 24 days ago

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Yokai Yagi x Reader Preview

You ask, I provide. Here's a preview of my horror fic, I'm not sure when the final will be finished (if at all) as I got a lot of things going on and am still feeling it out. Anyway, here it is! Hope y'all enjoy!

\\word count: 4,000+\\ TW: blood/injury

-----

It had been a mistake.

A simple, foolish mistake.

One that you would have probably laughed at if not given the current circumstances- and yet, here you were, wheezing and doubled over, clawing at the dust covered oak floor as you struggled to pull in a breath that wasn’t full of old musk and the scent of chalk; kicked up dust particles winking in the moonlight peeking in through the patch of rotten wood you had fallen through.

Before this, you had been exploring some old, rotting building that had long since been abandoned. It was the kind of place that awakened a deep, unsettling curiosity in you. A curiosity that whispered promises of something forbidden in your ear, no different from that same feeling when you see something you know you shouldn’t, but you just can’t get it out of your mind and all you want is more.

When you first noticed it, you had been on your way down the overgrown trail that led to your village, fixing the neat floral fabric that made up your attire. Tonight, your people were celebrating the productive summer season, an event that was hosted annually by the village elders to praise the spirits that protect the valley and grant good fortune. You used to love attending the festival during your younger age, small and unconcerned with the burden of work that it took to make each it through each season. That changed as you grew and experienced what it was like to have to work to survive, that childish wonder shifting into a distant nostalgia that haunted you every year.

How easy life once was…

The mouth of the worn dirt path had spit you out onto the stone street of the town you had grown up in - the town of your mother and father and their parents and those who lived before them. You knew the way like the back of your hand, the waving paths and cobbled streets engraved in your memory so well you could trace them like you would your own veins if asked to.

So, when your heel met the damp stone lining the edge of the village and your eyes settled onto the dark shadow of an old building, you were surprised when your legs forced you to stop. You had nearly missed it, only knowing where to look thanks to the gleam of something bright reflecting into your eyes. It’s… strange, noticing something you knew for a fact didn’t exist before. At least, it didn’t exist in your memory, which somehow unsettled you far more than it should have. You had walked this way home every day, through the sunshine and downpour, for years and you had never, never once noticed a temple here before. In fact, you were positive that the village community’s temple was on the other side of the valley, located in some cozy little square away from this part of town.

How hadn’t you noticed it before? It was small, unassumingly so, rotting beams of wood peeking out from where the once smooth red plaster had been stripped away in age. Muted, grime coated metal marked what you assumed to have once been beautiful accents, now filthy without the devoted care and polishing required to keep a prestigious appearance.

It took effort looking at it - to fully look at it. Not just simply taking note of it out of the corner of your eye, but to turn your head and focus on it. It was uncomfortable, painful almost - like there was an instinctually deep part of you telling you to block it out and keep moving forward. To ignore it. Something deeply primal whispering to you that it didn’t belong.

Little red flowers bloomed at the foot of the temple, standing out in patches of blossoms that somehow grew through the cracks and holes of the temple’s ruined structure in a way that you normally would have considered beautiful. Their dark, waxy leaves causing their already eye-catching color to pop, little bundles of petals glaring at you from across the overgrown courtyard separating you from this strange building. Flowers you were somewhat familiar with.

Begonias.

Their bright yellow centers smiled at you, and for some reason that you couldn’t quite place, their speckled pattern gave you the impression of a deep, angry rash.

The impression of sickness.

Why hadn’t you noticed it before?

You should have just gone home.

It would be dark soon. Your mother always warned you about traveling alone when daylight ran low, it wasn’t safe.

You should go home.

It would be night soon.

Go home.

You continued to repeat this in the back of your mind, even as you wandered across the courtyard and stepped foot into the forgotten temple, your curiosity begging you to see what was so important about this building that made your brain reject its very existence – and you repeated it now, even as you groaned in pain from the impact of your body meeting the floor, cradling the arm you had landed on.

Somewhere during your exploration, you had stepped on a loose floorboard. In your infinite wisdom, you put even more weight on the creaking flood and after a few good taps decided to move forward, deeming it safe. What you hadn’t expected was for the floor to cave beneath your weight, ancient wood finally succumbing to centuries of exposure and termite damage.

In an instant, you were falling. Then you were rolling, shoulder colliding with something that resulted in a nauseating crack, your arm shifting in a way that made your eyes roll and your voice crack pathetically. Soon after, you settled onto the ground, only a few feet from where you initially landed, gasping for air as your mind and body tried to stop the world from spinning.

The air here smelt old. Like dust and something musky and stale, catching in your eyes and your throat. The air here had been still for a long time.

Coughing, you rolled onto your back, desperately trying to take a useful breath in without it being laced with clots of dust or dirt. The careless action caused your shoulder to spasm, and you cried out, blinking rapidly past tears to adjust to the darkness you had fallen into. Dust particles danced above you, swirling before settling on your clothes and in your hair. Your hand pulled back from the pulsing pain on your shoulder, your breath leaving you in a rushed exhale at the sight of something dark and warm coating your hand.

Oh god.

No, no, no, no…

Curses slipped past your lips in a whispered whine, new tears welling up in your eyes as panic sparked in your chest. Trembling fingers found the ripped silk of your sleeve, feeling as though your veins had been injected with icy water when the fabric felt damp and warm.

No!

Your head met the unsettlingly warm floor underneath you as you took a few deep, shaking breaths which only resulted in more desperate coughs due to the dull coating of dust resting there.

You had to get up.

The darkness swallowing you retracted slightly as your eyes dilated, allowing the static around you to focus.

It’s ok.

‘You’re ok.’ You lied to yourself over and over, hoping that repeating the phrase would somehow make it true.

Swallowing back against the lump in your throat, you sat up, the only sound echoing through the air being your shallow breathing and the beat of your thumping heart in your ears.

Wild, anxious eyes scanned the room in a quick sweep, looking for anything that could possibly cause you more harm while in your weakened state. When no creatures of the night or crazy people jumped out to attack you, you felt your body loosen.

The room you were in was uncomfortably warm, as if someone had lit a fire and let it sit for a couple hours, resulting in a light layer of sweat on your clammy skin. Something in this place thrummed with an energy that raised the hairs on the back of your neck and arms, deep and drawn out like the plucking of a brass string. Something here wasn’t right, whatever was down here was not meant to be discovered.

Your eyes focused on the direction you came from, and to your horrified curiosity, you found what you had hit on your way down.

Engraved stone structures roughly the width of sturdy wooden planks formed what looked to be a shine of some kind, large candles melted all the way to the wick’s tab surrounding the altar, creating rivets of cooled wax that connected with the floor. You found yourself staring at the pieces of parchment hung up all around the shrine’s proximity, elegant, inked characters of a long-lost language drawn onto each individual slip of paper.

In the middle, was a stand, knocked over and cracked. What you must have hit on your way down.

In front of the stand, was the thing you crashed into.

Biting down a whimper, you stood fully, dusting off your dress as best as you could before taking a few cautious steps toward the red object laying on the ground. It was the same bright red as the plaster that decorated the temple, only there was a long deep crack causing once smooth curves to be split raggedly down the middle. Bending down, your bloodied hand gingerly flipped over the side of the mask, your head tilting to see what it was.

The empty, angry eye of a red devil stared back at you.

It was an Oni mask.

Growing up, your family and friends had all heard the stories and tall tales of the elders talking about the supernatural and the demonic. Ghosts, spirits, demons – Yokai, they called them. Your grandmother used to warn you about playing in the woods after dark, “Those Yokai are going to grab you up and eat you if you aren’t careful,” she used to chide, ignoring your mother’s pleas to not scare you, shaking her head worrisomely as you ran into the brush – laughing and unafraid.

You were never one to believe in stories like that, after all they’re just stories, ones you were familiar with.

Which meant you knew what Oni masks were typically used for.

You turned it slowly with your fingers, wondering why on earth such a thing would be hidden under hundreds of years of forgotten wood and metal.

Your eyes trailed lower, past the broken mask in your hand, following the white chalk beneath your feet. Carefully, you stepped back and away from the chalk circle you had fallen into, your breath caught in your throat as you came to a realization.

A wonderful, horrible realization.

A protection circle.

The mask in your grasp grinned up at you, broken and useless.

You hadn’t just stumbled into a protection circle.

You had broken what it was protecting.

A fear you never felt before washed over you, slow and all encompassing, suffocating - as though your head was slowly being laid back underwater.

Suddenly your hand started to burn, a heat you didn’t even know was possible radiating from the object in your hand. It felt like someone had laid the mask in a steelworker’s forge, waiting until it started to glow white from the flames before dropping it in your unprotected, unsuspecting hand. Your gasp was shrill -- you dropped the useless token of fortune, tears welling in your eyes. The burning shifted to scolding and you could swear you felt the blood under your skin start to boil. Panic resurfaced in your mind as you pulled your scolding hand into your chest, your foot kicking the cursed object away from you and you were scrubbing at your sternum, convinced that the burning wouldn’t stop until it had cooked all the way through to your bones –

Then it vanished.

Stumbling back until your back hit the far wall, the gash on your shoulder weeping slower still, you sniffled noisily in blurry confusion. Hand still clutched to your chest, confusion blended with terror at the possibility that whatever had burned you had made its way down past your nerves, explaining the lack of pain and the strange buzzing happening underneath your skin.

But… wouldn’t you be able to smell it – wouldn’t you have noticed the smell of charring flesh and melting fat?

Nausea hit the back of your throat, and it took all of your will to force your hand away from your sternum.

Smooth, intact skin.

No…

But you had felt it…

…What?

Your palm looked the same as it had before, natural creases deepening with every flex of your fingers. That can’t be right, you had felt the bubbling, frying of your skin only a moment ago – but your hand had no visible marks indicating any type of burn or rash. The only sign that anything had happened was the smell of heat and iron and the fact that your hand was no longer coated in your own blood, silvery whisps of smoke curling off of your skin before dissipating in the air.

Something was wrong.

Something was wrong with this place.

Something was terribly wrong, and you were alone.

Hiccupping, you let the primal fear washing over you rush in, not sure if it would drown you.

All alone and bleeding and lost and stuck and –

Click.

Your sniffles hung in the room as you flinched, gaze rising from your palm to look around.

Crack.

Wet eyes peered back over to the object you had shoved away, ears prickling at the high clicking and cracking coming from the remaining mask that laid on the floor. Confused, you watched little cracks spread over the material until the entire mask was covered in a cacophony of web-like fractures.

Then the mask ignited, crumbling to ash in an instant.

You couldn’t move your eyes, staring at the pile of dust as it shimmered in the moonlight.

Then came a new sound, a sound that scared you so much more.

The sound of breathing.

Heat flared over the back of your neck, the smell of smoldering coals and ash following after it.

Next to your kneeling body, inside the circle, something shifted.

Horror, unbridled and pure, washed over your very soul as you dared to look up, shifting back and away from the thin chalk line separating you from the massive shadow hanging over you. The room seemed impossibly dark then, so dark that your limited night vision did nothing to see anything that might have been waiting for you any more than a foot away.

The dark buzzed with quiet ringing, little voices no louder than a whisper made your ears strain with hyper-awareness. The shadow in front of you drew all light in like a blackhole, somehow darker than the rest of the room -- only that wasn’t the right term for what was waiting in the center of the circle considering that shadows don’t have eyes.

Firey-blue orbs of light appeared high above your eye level, hotter and brighter than any flame you’d ever seen. They stood out fiercely in the dark surrounding them, the outline of the darkness shifting and vibrating in a way that made it hard to grasp the shape of whatever had appeared within the circle.

You curled into yourself tighter when the outline of a hand reached out – pressing against the air as if it were a solid surface. Blue irises craned to the side, the hand pressing harder against the invisible barrier keeping it in. In a flash of symbols, the barrier released a pulse that had the thing withdrawing with a deep guttural bawl, the sound overlapping with hundreds of other voices and languages that had you crying out in pain, hands gripping your skull and covering your ears. Prayers left your lips in a singular rushed string, thoughts of your mother and your loved ones filling your mind as you came to terms with the inevitable awful fate that the gods had so kindly picked out for you.

Impossibly far away, you heard the distant boom of the fireworks that were used to announce the beginning of the celebration. The celebration seemed so far away now… Would anyone notice your absence?

You wondered what your elders would think of your idiocy now, you could already picture your grandmother’s disappointed expression looking down on you from the heavens. Maybe, in another life, one of them could have come to your rescue or protected you from the thing you had discovered. Some wise priest or exorcist coming to help a poor fool who had mettled with a place she shouldn’t have.

You’d take your village exorcist’s scoldings over this any day.

After a moment, the lights flickered out, a loud silence replacing the buzzing that had filled the room moments ago. Seconds dragged by without so much as a sound, your breath short and stifled and all too loud.

And then… something stepped out of the darkness, a large shadow of something not of this realm crept up the walls and onto the ceiling. But that’s not what stepped out into the warm air of this dreadful room – instead, what did step quietly into your field of vision was a man.

A man who didn’t match his shadow.

He - it almost looked human.

Except…

Humans don’t usually have deep red markings engraved in their flesh, wrapping around the man’s skin like scars and they definitely don’t have sharp pointed ears or horns. No, this thing only looked partially like a man in terms of general anatomy and shape, but the aura it gave off was far too supernatural for it to be considered human.

The thing in front of you was too tall, too noble. Even hunched over, its horns nearly scraped the ceiling.

Your eyes focused on the thing’s face, even as it knelt down to your level. Wild, golden hair curled and framed its thin face, skin adorned with crimson lines and symbols that looked painted on by the most steady-handed artist. They reminded you of the markings your elders would wear during special ceremonies, a tribute to the marks ancient oracles would carve into their skin as a sign of devotion and connection to the divine. Dark robes of old silk fabric hung from its frame, accented with eye-catching blues that shifted in gradients when they bent and wrinkled. The… man gave the impression of a wiseman or a soothsayer, the only features hinting at his true nature being the two crimson antelope horns sprouting from his skull and his long-tipped ears decorated with golden rings. He wore a kind, patient expression, but something about it set you on edge. It wasn’t right.

Your gaze flickered to its horns, then to its face again, your mouth opening in an attempt to break the eerie silence.

A squeak left your throat and you shut your jaw.

The creature sitting in the circle hummed a sound you could feel in your very being, deep and velvety, before it spoke in a language you had never heard before – bassy and guttural. Powerful.

The hairs on the back of your neck prickled.

Your grandmother’s warnings replaying in your head. Respect was key in dealing with the supernatural, she had said simply, they don’t like feeling disrespected.

How does one act respectfully in a situation such as this?

“Excuse…Excuse me? I’m sorry I… don’t understand.”

You could have cringed at how your voice trembled, coming out an octave higher than you meant it to. Wide, frightful eyes met the burning blue from before, the strange feeling of your instinct hissing and shrinking away resurfacing. It tilted its head at you, unblinking eyes filled with some kind of understanding.

“Ah.” You flinched at the rich, deep voice that left the being’s lips while it nodded solemnly. “A new era.”

You didn’t understand and it seemed sympathetic – in a way.

“I always forget how quickly your kind evolves and changes things,” It smiled, and you blanched at the two pointed canines that peeked out ever-so slightly as it spoke. “Language being no exception.”

Your kind.

You swallowed audibly.

“Who… what are you? If I may ask.”

The rushed pleasantry was tacked on to the end of your question in a meek attempt to not anger the being sitting before you, having blurted out the inquisition without thinking – stupid girl.

It didn’t seem to be angered by your naivete, however.

Something about the grin it gave you made your stomach twist; despite looking kind, it didn’t feel friendly. A long, lean hand raised in the air, the fingers stained the same dark red as its horns, and with a flick and a gust of fiery wind, the candles at the altar sparked to life, finally illuminating the chamber.

His fangs winked at you as he gave you a smile.

It didn’t quite reach his eyes, staring unblinking into yours.

“There, let me get a good look at you.” In the light you could see him better, his face no longer restricted to shadows and bright cat-like eyes. Some part of you thought he was, in a very hesitantly said way, handsome. You felt your fear dull into that ugly dangerous curiosity again. “Awfully young to be all by yourself. Where is your company, little flower?”

‘Just upstairs, waiting for me.’ You should have said, but for some reason, you couldn’t force yourself to utter the lie. His voice, smooth and rich and pleasing on your ears, made your brain feel a little fuzzy.

“I am grown,” You breathed, a hint of your personality coming back to life due to the lack of torn out eyes or violence. “I have no need of company.”

“Is that so? Tell me. Do you know who I am, girl?”

Something shifted along the floor.

“No.” You answered honestly, gaze flickering downward just in time to see a flash of deep red and gold slide across the floor before curling back into the man’s robes. “But… I know you are not human.”

“I am not.” He all but purred, tilting his head at you as the tip of the tail you had caught a glance of flicked back out behind him in… interest?

Amusement?

“I am the spirit of this temple, tasked with guiding lost creatures and souls out of these lost woods and back towards the valley. I am a healer more ancient and more gifted than any shaman your people could ever produce, and I was free, not too long ago.” You had a feeling your definition of long ago was much different from his, but the way his ears tilted back slightly gave the impression he hadn’t been free for a very long time.

A deep sadness nipped at you, suddenly overtaken with a strange sense of vulnerability that wasn’t there before and didn’t feel like it belonged to you. Questions bubbled up in your mind and throat, but only one made its way to the surface.

He looked so sad–

Stop it.

He was a guide to the lost and the vulnerable—

This is wrong—

“What happened?” You found yourself asking, all too sweet and curious.

His ears perked back up, gold rings singing like tiny bells as they clinked together. “Man happened, child. Cruel human priests who held greed and evil in their hearts discovered my temple and when I sensed their ill intentions I turned them away, in fear of what would come of the other spirits I protected. In response, they turned to the mystic arts and locked me away, banishing me into that dreadful mask so they would find no resistance in taking hold of my homestead… But you broke my prison, and I am so close to being back home.”

The silky bass of his voice held such admiration for you—you, that the very praise made your face feel warm. In fact, the whole room seemed to increase a few degrees as he spoke, surrounding you like an embrace- or a furnace. It was blistering – so why was everything so fuzzy and nice?

You hadn’t noticed that you had crept closer to his circle, too enraptured with his tale and his eyes, oh his eyes… they were like concentrated lightning, electric and otherworldly and beautiful. Something in your mind whispered to you, something different from the screeching of your survival instincts that seemed so far away now.

Why were you so scared before? It asks.

You couldn’t remember as you look into his glowing irises.

There is nothing to be afraid of. It purrs.

“My petal, if I were free from this seal I could save you from your pain.” Pain? What pain? But as the word rolled off his tongue, the throbbing of your shoulder came back to your senses, only this time it burned. Had it always hurt so bad? “I only need your help with one more thing, little flower.”

The whispers were back, turning your mind into static.

Anything.

He smiled, presenting his fangs to you, sharp and ready, like the jaws of a trap.

“Break my circle. Set me free.”

You were knelt directly before him now, leaning forward slightly as he brought a hand up to the invisible field from before, just barely pressing against it as he stared at you - stared deeper into you. His smile still didn’t reach his eyes.

Warnings were still playing in the background of your mind, a deep nagging feeling like you had forgotten something aching in your chest as you tried to push away the static and think—

He could help you.

He-- It was not human!

He could save you!

Everything about this thing and this place was wrong—

But oh, how it felt so right.

Somehow, without being told, you knew what you needed to do to break this barrier between you. With numb movements, your hand sunk back to your gash, pressing as you whimpered. Electric blue watched as you pressed that hand to the floor, red painting the ground and smearing the chalk as you twisted your hand and slid it back--

The once white chalk of the protective circle bled red, filling it with dark liquid that smelled of iron and smoke as the room pulsed.

The man in the circle stood, pressing one foot over the broken seal carefully, cautiously. When he was met with no resistance, he stepped across fully now, a deep sound filled his throat as he took his first steps towards freedom.

Then he lunged for you.

------

#yagi toshinori #bnha #fic #yokai #yokai au #demon au #my au?#spooky fic #preview #reader has no common sense #inaccurate yokai rep #toshinori yagi x reader

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gaysindistress · 2 years ago

Text

Sad Girl - four

summary: James has an interesting new business’ proposal and one hell of a condition to deal with.

pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader

warnings: cursing, guns, violence (it is a mob au after all), Bucky’s smartass

word count: 1.3K

part 3 | series masterlist

a/n: I know this chapter is a little shorter BUT it’s for good reason. The next part will be worth it.

taglist: @missvelvetsstuff @angelsincident @spencerreidisagorgman

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on google/Pinterest

10:30 on the dot and Doll is lounging on the black coach in his office, computer balanced on her knees. Even if she had been whisked into some dystopian world, she still had work to do and emails from her father to ignore. James’ voice could be heard bouncing off the hallway walls as he made his way to his office, talking to someone on the phone. With one hand he opens the office door while the other hand holds the phone to his ear. Surprise is not the first emotion he feels when he notices Doll has made his office her own but it’s only emotion he lets make it to his face. She glances at the clock silently saying “of course I’m on time” and goes back to the files pulled up on her screen.

“Okay well Steve is more than capable of handling any other issues if they come up so call him,” the frustration is evident in his voice and shoulders as he’s pulling out his own computer and getting it set up on his desk.

“What? No like I said call Steve. Don’t call me and if it’s something really fucked up, Steve will call me. I have a meeting that I am now late to thanks to you not being able to handle little shit,” with that, he ends the call and sits down in the chair that has been calling his name for the last few hours.

Doll has moved to the chair across from him, eyes taking every detail and making mental notes of where his weak spots are for later use.

Clearing his throat, he startles her and begins to speak “I’m surprised to see you here already.”

“You said 10:30 so I was here at 10:30.”

“Just surprised given how headstrong you are.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

A smile tugs at the corner of his plump pink lips, wait just lips, as he types something into his computer and turns the screen so they both can see it. He leans forward in effort to make sure she can see the document clearly but all she’s focused on is the chain disappearing under that stupidly well fit burnt orange shirt.

“I assume you went over the contract already with your father,” he notices where her eyes are looking but doesn’t say anything.

“Yep.”

“Good girl. Now we do have to officially announce our engagement but you can choose how we do that. You step mother wants us to have an engagement party at their estate but I got your father to agree that announcing it at the fundraiser Friday night would also work.”

‘Good girl’ was not lost on her and her slightly widened as her cheeks flushed which was also not lost on James.

“I’m required to go anyways so might as well make it useful,” she forces out, nearly chocking on her words, “Pepper only wants to parade you around to all of her friends to show that she has more money and connections than them.”

“Sounds good to me, Doll. Do you have something to wear?”

She only nods, not trusting the state of her voice. Her mind is too focused on why the hell he chose to say ‘good girl’ and why the hell she’s so flustered over it?

“Can I ask what?”

“A dress.”

“Well of course, Doll but what does it look like?”

Crossing her arms over her chest, “why do you want to know?”

“I want to match my lovely bride to be.”

“Oh well in that case it’s bright yellow with tons of tulle and bows,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes.

Blue steel eyes and a slight smirk stare back at her, a look of ‘try again’ takes over his face. She wonders how many times he uses this same face on his business partners to get them to comply. Or maybe he reserves it for his girlfriends when they misbehave.

“It’s a black sleeveless, fitted dress with a v neck.”

“How low?”

“Excuse me?”

“How low is the v neck?”

“My boobs will be covered if that’s what you’re concerned about. I wasn’t exactly planning on being engaged when I bought it.”

“I don’t care what you wear. I’m more concerned about whether or not I’m going to have to hold you back when someone looks at you the wrong way or says something stupid,” he chuckles still leaning over the desk, eyes flickering across her body.

“I can handle my own,” her annoyance is far out grown whatever else she was feeling.

“Oh I know you can but since I’m about to be your husband, I do have to play the part.”

“Whatever. What else do you need to go over?” she huffs, crossing her right leg over her left.

Scrolling down a little more, he says “The wedding is scheduled a month from now. You can plan it or we can hire someone.”

“Hire someone. I don’t have the time to plan a wedding and I don’t want Pepper anywhere near it.”

“I figured as much. I’ll have Natasha get all of that sorted,” scrolling a little more, he stops and makes eye contact with her again, “Aside from those two events, there’s nothing else. We just have to play nice in public while having separate private lives if that’s what you’d like.”

Her fingers flex on her bicep, “If that’s what I’d like?”

“I’m known to have a certain affect on women.”

“Oh my god! You’re an absolutely douchebag. Yes I’d much rather have nothing to do with you outside of public events. Now if we’re done here, I’d like to get back to my very legitimate work,” she says, standing with James’ eyes following her every move.

“The work you do for you father is not legal,” he remarks, eyes settling on the way she bites her lip in irritation.

“It’s less illegal than whatever you do,” she shots back, waving a hand in the air.

Sitting back in his chair, James clasps his hands together in his lap, “what exactly do you think I do?”

“Illegal…things.”

“Very descriptive, Doll. I’ll tell you if you admit you’re also doing illegal things.”

“Providing therapy to people is not illegal.”

“It is if they’re criminals needing a clear record so they don’t go back to prison. Also what therapist carries a gun around?”

“That’s not what I do and I don’t carry when I’m working,” she affirms with great annoyance.

“Sure, Doll, just when you’re interrupting important meetings,” it’s his turn to roll his eyes.

“Maybe don’t involve me in stupid shit and I won’t pull a gun on you,” she pauses to stop herself from exploding on him, “I’m a therapist for reformed individuals.”

He reaches into his desk drawer and ignores her, knowing she won’t let it down if he corrects her. He pulls out a little black box with a box on top and sets it down on the desk in between them.

“Here’s your ring.”

Going to grab the box, Doll is hesitant to believe what he says.

“My ring?” she questions as she unties the bow and opens the box.

Inside is a 3 carat radiant cut diamond ring sitting neatly in velvet.

“Jesus Christ,” she whispers, “might as well have gotten a 5 carat one, holy shit.”

James smirks smugly at her reaction, standing and takes the box from her hands. He takes the ring out and puts the box down before taking her left hand in his much larger hands. She goes silent and still while he slips the ring onto her finger. Bending down he kisses the top of her hand and her breath hitches.

“5 would be considered a weapon on your hand. 3 will leave a few cuts but nothing too major. Can’t have you doing any real damage to me,” he says through the smirk he is still wearing.

“I do have to go. Steve has been blowing up my phone since I walked in. I will see you at dinner,” he says pointing a finger at Doll while he walks out of the room, leaving her flustered and alone in the office.

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barns x reader #mob!bucky #mob!bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes imagine #mob au #sad girl - bucky barnes #bucky barns x y/n #bucky barnes

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jamiesfootball · 1 month ago

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I am only two episodes into Severance but who cares

Ted Lasso Severance AU ideas in no particular order. Until they are. Special thanks and credit to @altschmerzes for playing pinball with me on this

First of all - all professional athletes have been severed. For their own safety, of course. A lot of entertainers too. It promotes better mental health, not having to deal with the stress of fame. Much easier to focus when you don't have all that pesky outside pressure weighing you down

Enter Ted and Beard, who don’t know that they know each other. Don't know that they've been working alongside each other for years, because while they've coached at the lower levels they've never had a posting that required severance

Inside Ted and Beard know none of that. To keep things formal, out of respect, they refer to each other as ‘Coach’. It's important to maintain distance in these situations after all

Ted is a good coach. He's engaged, he's encouraging, he's got some funny turns of phrase.

They may both have a similar accent, but Beard quickly dismisses the idea that their outside counterparts know each other. Beard wouldn't know what to say to him if they did talk.

It's probably a coincidence, but more than likely someone chose Beard to be assistant to Ted so that Ted wouldn't feel as alienated at his new job. Which was smart thinking, because Ted doesn't seem to know a lot about football (Beard doesn't either, but someone seems to have thought ahead there too. Their office is full of books that Beard himself would've picked out if he were trying to learn.)

But when Ted's not coaching, when there's some down time, he becomes... quiet. He watches things. people, from a distance. He gets a glassy, vacant look in his eyes, like he's trying to stare at something that's been ripped from his chest and placed thousands of miles away, and if he can just stare hard enough, it'll come home to him.

One day Beard finds out about Ted's panic attacks. He doesn't mean too, just walks in on one and

"Sorry, Coach," he says quickly before shutting the door, ignoring the way his own chest thrums in sympathy.

It feels like he should be doing something. What? Who the fuck knows. Ted may be congenial on the front, but he seems like a pretty private closed off person so Beard doesn’t want to interfere.

But the panic attacks keep happening.

Something happens to him when Ted hurts like that, though, and he doesn't know why but it aches like a phantom limb. Like someone's sawed him in half (which they did)

Rebecca and Keeley don’t work together but occasionally run into each other. Neither is quite sure they understand what the other does around here, and its against the rules to ask, but Rebecca looks like a goddess and well – look at her. Whatever she does for Richmond, she must be really high up! Very important

"Think you could try sneaking out a note to your outer self asking her to give me a pay raise?" Keeley smiles cheekily.

"Don't even joke about that," says Rebecca, because it's true. They shouldn't. It's against the rules.

That doesn't stop her lips from curving upwards. From the way she has to make a concentrated effort to pull her smile back, adjust her skirt, and nod at Keeley as if it's just coincidence they passed each other in the hallway. Lot of coincidences, lately. Too many, they might find out too late.

That doesn't stop it from happening.

Sam. Sam is the sunshine at the inside of Nelson Road. Although he has not been there long, it's hard to imagine a better candidate for severance. Endlessly positive. Capable of deftly navigating the rules around interpersonal boundaries in such a way that it still leaves people feeling warm inside. He's a poster boy for the severance movement; one could only imagine the amount of stress and nerves that a young player might typically suffer through were they not severed from the outside world. Instead, since Sam's arrived at Richmond, he's been playing splendidly! So confident and mature. He might be new to the whole inside thing, but look at him - he's a natural!

Sam tries so hard to stay positive, yet often he finds himself drowning, overwhelmed by a huge wave of sorrow. Something is missing; something huge is missing.

Sam tugs his own ear and tries to swallow his sobs and wishes desperately he had someone, anyone, to talk to for guidance.

Inside Roy doesn’t believe he has anything waiting for him on the outside. He knows it. He fucking doesn't.

Roy’s impending retirement? More like Roy’s impending death

He doesn't know if he's looking forward to it or not. He's been living severed for what's going on about twenty years now. This is his life. And he’s convinced there’s nothing waiting on the other side

He hates Jamie in part because he's sure the kid's got this fantastic life out there. What the fuck is he even here for?

Doesn't he get that he should be out there living somewhere ?

Here's the thing about inside Jamie.

One day he was at Manchester. Then he blinked, and he was at Richmond

“What the fuck am I doing here? Did they sell me?”

“You were loaned.”

Jamie doesn’t know why it feels so terribly important that he be the one who scores. He doesn't know why he gets so upset and angry and the stupidest, dumbest things set him off. Why he hates Sam for having a good debut season despite being on a shitty team. Why he sometimes feel so scared, his heart thundering in his chest like he's being chased by an invisible monster. And the great thing about severance is he doesn't need to.

He just needs to show up and kick the ball

Occasionally he shows up to practice with mysterious injuries. Whenever he does, Inside Jamie receives a card explaining what happened:

“You received a sprained ankle during training.”

“You reported a hairline fracture along your upper arm from a weight lifting accident.”

“This morning you reported a bump on the head from a kitchen cabinet.”

No matter what excuse the card says, it always has the same cheery note at the bottom:

Please redeem this note at the cafeteria to enjoy an extra snack from the approved menu list.

God knows what outside Jamie gets up to, but it must be a hell of a life. That or he's a clumsier bastard than inside Jamie. Maybe it's something with the severance, some special skill that inside Jamie has honed that outside Jamie doesn't know about.

Jamie has never redeemed his free coupons. Instead, he keeps all the note cards in his gym bag. It's stupid, and probably against the rules somehow, but he doesn't care. Not like he gets to have anything else to himself here, does he? His kit is the same as everyone else's, so's his shampoo, his deodorant, his shoes. No, the not

The note cards were generated for inside Jamie, they're the one thing that are uniquely his, and inside Jamie is going to keep them.

(There’s a lot of them.)

Dani shows up and he just feels….lifeless. Fútbol is life. That's his mantra, or so he's been informed by his previous coaches. But whenever he's on the field he just feels so....lifeless. Disinterested. Not engaged. Ted was hoping for two aces but instead he has no aces

But then when Jamie is sulking and kicking the ball after practice Dani slunks over like he’s being pulled by an invisible string

“Are you playing a game?” he asks like he’s not sure. Like he's questioning the meaning of football itself.

And Jamie, Jamie might feel like he’s choking on air half the time but … it’s football. He’s not all the way gone that he doesn’t know he loves football

He is still in a bad mood though

“Yeah, amigo,” he says sarcastically. “I’m playing. Kicked the ball of the post on purpose, didn’t I?”

“…. I would like to try”

So they have their little shooting match and Dani blooms into the fucking sun. It’s fun. This is fun

And then he goes in for the high five and Jamie flinches back like a bomb has gone off, throwing up his fists in front of his face and bracing for the ghost of an impact that doesn't come. He doesn't know how to hide these things. He barely knows when to expect these things. All his trauma is on the surface, and he doesn't even know its there

Here's the thing about Jamie being at Richmond.

He stops getting cards.

The weird, unexplained bruises have a chance to heal. New ones fail to appear.

They stop. The bruises stop, but he doesn't know why it feels like he’s getting worse. He doesn’t know. He feels off balance... fragile. Things he used to be able to shrug off start sticking to him like tar. He doesn't feel in control of himself.

He holds onto his stack of cards like a lifeline, like a prized possession. They're the one thing that hasn't changed. He grips onto this shoelaced stack of evidence that he's here, that he exists, and he feels the same feelings he felt back in Manchester – that same tidal wave of emotions that threatens to drown him. Makes him feel like he's bobbing, lost at sea, eyelevel with stinging waves while his feet kick for survival.

Even as it chokes him, it's the only feeling he's ever been sure about. It's the only tether he has to the outside world. To his real life. To himself.

The stack hasn't grown since he arrive at Richmond. He feels like he's losing his sense of identity without them.

Jamie blinks, and he's back at City.

After Richmond gets relegated, and insistent Ted sends a wary Beard to track down Jamie before the bus leaves, next stop Manchester.

Jamie, confused, takes the accepted envelope. On the bus, which is part of the inner world in that it holds the team, he carefully unfolds the note inside. Reads it. Spends who knows how long after reading it simply admiring it. The uncomplicated way the paper curves towards gravity. The neat, printed handwriting, just a bit fancier than he expected. The way that even the ink feels fragile compared to the heavy typeset he's used to seeing.

Jamie adds it to his stack of cards, but for some reason the thought of putting Ted's not in with the others makes him feel uncomfortable, so he….moves it. Keeps it separate. Keeps it special, tucked in a separate compartment in his bag.

(That’s not allowed)

Roy retired. He went through with it. Because the people who loved him on the inside convinced him it would be okay – even though he barely got a chance to say goodbye to most of them. They all knew this day was approaching and fast

Outside him doesn’t know that

Outside Roy woke up from knee surgery at a hospital and doesn't know how he got there. Doesn't know he has months of rehab and surgeries and doctors appointments to look forward to

Outside doesn’t remember anyone he played with, and he certainly doesn't expect that any of those players loved him. Certainly doesn’t know that he was beloved by more than just the players. That there’s people like Ted and Keeley who miss him too

But mostly he tries not to think about that. He has his sister and his niece, who are over the moon at the chance of getting to spend more time with him. Over the fact that he's not doing that to himself anymore.

No way inside Roy mattered to anyone at all. Not as a person. Not the way he does to his family on the outside.

It doesn't matter. He's not going back

Jamie knows Roy’s knee wasn’t his fault. He also knows Roy Kent walked off the pitch. He's pretty sure no one ever saw him again – that's what happens when athletes get career ending injuries, isn't it?

Or at least inside thinks he knows that until, for reasons he can’t explain that have nothing to do with the fact that he feels like he murdered someone and nothing to do with those damn bruises coming back and the way his hands shake now when he adds a new card to the stack and the way he stares at the other card, the Ted card, sometimes and feels like he wants to cry-

Inside Jamie quits.

Or that’s not the right word. Sports is entertainment, innit?

Inside Jamie switches career, trading football Jamie for Lust Conquers All Jamie

(They assure him, don't they, that if he wishes, they can sever that part off too)

Meanwhile Roy, retired and still adjusting to it, continues meeting with the yoga mums. Like most people, they don't really know who he is. Players are just numbers to 99% of the people in their lives – athletes don't wear names on their kits. They get assigned a number when they get severed as part of the push for privacy. Sure, sometimes he gets someone who thinks they recognize him from somewhere, but part of the contract you sign when you get severed is a clause that says you won't speak about your experiences, inferred or not, from being severed. It would violate your contract to violate your own privacy – or the other way around, he can never remember how it's worded.

Besides, getting recognized is nothing short of a fucking rarity. You'd have to be a fan for a long time and attend lots of matches in person to feel confident enough to identify one of the moving blobs on tv. You'd also have to be a bit of a prick to bring it up to a stranger you'd never met. But mostly you'd have to be either football mad or completely lucky to recognize a footballer when you saw one.

Not like they sell posters.

Recognizing famous people is hard, he reminds himself, as the yoga mums queue up one of their regular programs. Despite his own history with severance, it's a compelling show. Besides, everyone on that show – they basically do what he did, right? Their outside people signed contracts, didn’t they? It’s all fun

Except ever since they started this new season, he's got a sick feeling in his stomach he can’t explain. One of the contestants, a complete twat, a fucking muppet of a person – every time he's on screen, it feels like a predator is clawing inside his chest, trying to break free and drag his weeping entrails into the light. Every smug smile sets his teeth on edge. The prick brags about scoring, and Roy wants to wring his neck with an intensity that startles him so fiercely that he accidentally breaks his wineglass. Rosé spills over his knuckles, pooling over his crisscrossed feet and seeping into his socks as glittery shards twinkle across his lap.

It's all cleaned up in about five minutes, and it still leaves a stain deeper than any his career has left on his life.

He can admit to himself, if not his sister and definitely not his niece, that since he retired, things have been....fine. Not great. A bit awful, maybe.

Okay, so it was all shit.

Long empty nights; endless pain, the kind that grew worse every time he forgot himself and attempted to move the same way he'd done for going on forty years. His sister was worried. His niece he was pretty sure he was starting to scare. There'd been some talk, suggestions that he take up coaching Phoebe's team, but they were gentle laps against the shore of a bigger problem.

He'd even gotten offered a job as a talking head on one of those football programs, the ones that didn't require severance because you were just meant to be commenting about the match like any other normal wanker on the street.

As if.

Compared to the dim half-life of a life Roy finds himself living now, watching Lust Conquers All in hopes that the show's resident prick will say something infuriatingly stupid has quickly become an obsession. it's like breathing fucking air after being chained to the bottom of a sea.

Then, just like that, the price gets kicked off the show in a surprise upset.

It's slightly less rare to recognize TV celebrities out on the street, but you would still be an asshole if you pointed one out.

For the next few days, whenever he's out in London, he finds himself scanning faces in the crowd despite knowing better.

In his distraction, he accidentally bumps into a petite blond woman exiting a coffee shop. He apologizes, has half a second to admire her distracted but genuinely kind smile in return, and then she's gone.

Honestly, what the hell is he even doing with his life?

At Nelson Road, Ted makes one thing clear.

Whatever happens, however much the team is struggling, he's not going to ask Roy, player #6, to come back. They all miss him, but he won't – can't – let himself do that.

He has a whole life out there to live. Ted won't take that away from him. No way what's out there is any worse than what's in here.

Then he gets word about a different individual, and-

Well.

"What the hell are you doing here, eh?"

"Oh, I see. You must be the new coach. The one who's been teaching my son how to play like a total pussy."

"Dad–"

"No, you don't fucking interrupt when the adults are talking, junior. What the fuck would you know, anyways? Christ, I wish I could stick a knife in my brain and erase the last two hours. If it weren't for me, you wouldn't know what a shit player this man has turned you into, son."

"Nah, nah. See, I don't think you will say anything. Because this room is medical, and medical is out of bounds. Medical is all public, and you chippies, you're not allowed to interfere with the public. Go on, lad, tell him. You may not have a single braincell worth rubbing off these days, but I know you know that."

Afterwards, that day in the treatment room is mostly a blur to him. But a few things stick out later, glued stuck behind his eyes like floating afterimages in the dark.

The bench was cold.

The bolt of his shoe smacking against the wall just shy of his ear.

His dad's fingers, tacky with dried beer as he shoved Jamie's head to the side.

And when he looked to the side – the confused man with the mustache standing on the other side of the glass.

The way he didn't hesitate before turning the handle on the door, stepping inside and settling back on his heels with his hands in his pockets. The way he smiled around the room all pleasant-like, like they were all friends.

"Hello, gentleman. Sorry to interrupt, but I couldn't help but notice through the window that this room was starting to look a bit like a tropical storm weighing its chances on whether it might be able to turn into a nasty old cat-5 before it makes landfall. Which seems a bit odd to me, considering that unless I need to get my eyes checked, your team won. That, or your washer machines both lost this morning. One way or the other, my question's all the same:

"Do we have a problem here?"

It was more than enough words for Jamie to place the accent. To take one an one, and turn this man into the damn yankee coach his dad blames for ruining Jamie's career.

Maybe his dad has a point about him being dumber now than he was a year ago, because when Jamie thinks of adding one to anything, his brain tries to tell him that it's not one, it's eleven. It's not one of one, it's one of eleven.

He's so busy reeling with shock at meeting his coach – at meeting anyone from the other side – that he misses most of what his dad says next.

What he doesn't miss, what will be engraved into him long after he leaves Nelson Road, when the bus is quiet and dark and he's left clutching a hastily scrawled note like it's a precious photograph, is the way that his coach — his coach, other Jamie's coach –

The way his coach's smile grows strained under his dad's words, only for him to refocus on Jamie like they were the only two in the room. The way his face softened, and the open apology in his eyes, and the way that Jamie was sure later, dead certain down to his bones, that if he'd just opened his mouth right then and asked, this man would have stayed in the room with him, drawing his father's ire for as long as Jamie needed.

But Jamie didn't have any words; maybe other Jamie had used them all up for the both of them.

The man, his coach, took a deep breath and said:

"It was very nice to meet you, Jamie."

Outside Jamie doesn't have any options. He burned them. Or inside Jamie burned them.

Same difference, when no matter who you ask, you were the one holding the matches.

He arrives and leaves the news station in the blink of an eye. No one is outside waiting for him, because you don't get fans if you're severed.

No one outside anywhere is waiting for him, except his dad.

There's only one person left, and Jamie can't even talk to him without going through his agent. But he can try.

Hope. It's the thing that kills you.

Good thing outside Jamie might as well be dead, as far as anyone's concerned. (Including his agent.)

Inside Jamie gets kicked off of LCA…..and wakes back up at Richmond. And doesn’t know how.

Oh, he knows why he left City. Vaguely remembers signing up for somewhere warmer than early snow in October. What he doesn't know is how he ended up back here, back at Richmond, with a relegated group of players who look like they want to murder him. Who look at him as if he did murder someone, which in a lot of ways is true.

He doesn't know why he would do this to himself.

But he also feels deep within him a pathetic sense of gratitude, because inside Jamie is selfish, and inside Jamie doesn't want to die.

What inside Jamie can’t possibly know s that when confronted with the possibility of going back to his real life…..his outer self couldn’t take it. He just couldn’t. Being severed has to be better than this. Anything has to be better than this. And he’s right. He doesn’t know it, inside Jamie doesn’t know it, but these are the people who will love him. The people who are going to love him are the ones on the lifeless inside, and fuck they’re the ones who are going to make his life worth it

Roy didn't think he had anything on the outside, but he did. He thought outside Jamie must have everything, and he had nothing. Wrong on both counts.

Now Roy, stuck on the outside, has to figure out why he feels like he needs to go home

#i don't even know. just take it #ted lasso severance au #ted lasso #jamie tartt #roy kent #again. i am just TWO episodes into severance #feel free to pile on but just know I may not know what thee hell you speak of

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