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whitexwolfxx310 · 5 months ago

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|| What’s Your Favorite Scary Movie? || Part 2.

Pairing: Dom!Bucky x Sub!female reader

Summary: After accidentally revealing that you have a masked man kink, Bucky starts taking it to the next level. The reveal!

Warnings: Smut- MDNI please!, unprotected sexual intercourse (p in v), don't forget no glove no love, edging, asphyxiation, fingering, mild dirty talk, language, praise kink, masked man kink, stalking, harassment, implied harm, breaking in.

Word Count: 5.4

A/Ns: Hi babes! Sorry this took an extra day than intended. Tumblr is being super finicky tonight, I’ve edited and re-edited this so many times. If there’s mistakes just ignore. I hope you like the conclusion!

In case you missed it, Part 1

You didn’t sleep much the next couple of nights, and decided to take some time off of work. Bucky finally reached out, and you updated him as to what was going on. He immediately offered to come home, which you refused and started to downplay the situation.

Hailee has been great with letting you borrow some clothes and little things, since you only grabbed a small bag in a rush before heading to her place to stay a few days ago. You’ve been dreading going back to the apartment, scared to find someone in there waiting for you. But it’s at the point where you need to grab some of your stuff.

Walking into the apartment, it was eerily quiet and uncomfortable. But nothing looked out of place, and was exactly how you left it. Deciding not to spend any longer there than you had to, you promptly tossed a large duffle bag onto your bed and started stuffing it with clothes and any other necessities.

Zipping the duffle closed, you felt a light gust of cool air. Scanning your bedroom window assuming it was the source, you realize it’s open. You never open this window. In fact, it’s always locked. All of the hair on the top layer of your skin stands up to the extent it almost feels like tiny pinpricks. Flight mode is instantly activated; before you can even think, you grab the bag and run, practically tripping over your own feet out of the room.

Grappling with the door knob, the pure panic starts to set in. Just as you’re twisting the knob open, you hear a distant bang coming from another room in the apartment. You freeze at the realization:

I’m not alone.

You know when you’re watching a scary movie and yell at the tv, wondering why the one of the characters was so fucking stupid to do something?

Well, you did exactly that. What possessed you in that moment, you haven’t the faintest idea. But, with your heartbeat pounding in your ears so loudly that you thought your eardrums might rupture, you started to turn around to look.

What primitively catches your attention isn’t what you expected, but quickly makes your chest tighten. The fruit bowl on the kitchen counter that is normally overflowing with lucious, red delicious apples, now just has all apple cores.

The flashback of one being on left on the countertop after Bucky had left blazes in your mind. It suddenly makes sense. Bucky would never leave a mess and it wasn't long after that you saw someone outside your window.

Attempting to swallow the growing dryness in your throat, you continue to turn around. And that's when you see him for the first time. About fifteen feet away, stood an obviously immensely tall man. He wore thick, black shiny leather boots that gleamed lightly in the natural daylight within the apartment. Fitted black jeans with a loose, black hooded sweatshirt that failed to hide how muscular and broad his chest and shoulders were with the hood pulled up.

But two things stuck out the most about his appearance. First, was the tight, black leather gloves he wore on his hands that were currently clenched into rigid fists. The second, was the fact that you couldn't make out his face. All you could see was an elongated paleness, caverned by the blackness of the hood, and it seemed... sinister. He didn't move or make a sound. It was as if you would blink and he would be gone, like a cloud of smoke.

But if anyone was going to disappear, it was going to be you. So taking a chance, you ran. And you didn't stop running. Even with the faint vibration in your pocket alerting you to the new text notification on your phone, you kept going.

It wasn't until you got back to Hailee's place and frantically, out of breath explained to her, that you even remembered about the text message.

"Here," You toss the phone in pure detestation onto her bed, "I don't even want to fucking know what it says." You lean against the opposite wall of her bedroom, crossing your arms across your chest in an attempt to control the body shakes as you come down from the adrenaline.

Hailee watches you for a brief moment, still not having said much aside from asking if you were okay. Her expression was soft and sympathetic and yet had an dissenting undertone. You couldn't blame her, this all sounded absolutely insane.

Letting out a small, exasperated breath, Hailee sits on her knees from her previous crossed legged position and grabs your cell. As the screen comes to life, her teeth clench down reading whatever is on the screen.

“What?” The concern is evident in your voice as you pry away from the wall, though still holding onto yourself.

Hailee inhales deeply through her nostrils, faking a tightlipped smile, “it’s nothing,” her tone is flat. She’s lying. Clicking the sleep button on the side of the phone to make the screen go black, she makes her way off the bed, “hey, how about we head down to the cellphone store and get you a new phone and number?” She asks, trying to sound like her usual carefree self as she grabbed her crossbody bag.

“Hailee,” you uncross your arms and step in front of her, forcing her to make eye contact, “what is it?”

Searching your eyes, you can see that she is torn. She wants so badly to do the right thing, but isn’t sure what exactly that is in this situation. On one hand, she could just keep it to herself. Let the unknown and curiosity eat you alive from the inside out like it inevitably will. But only because she wants to protect you, shield you from anything that brings you the opposite of joy. Or, she can show you what you’re actually dealing with, and the two of you can come up with a plan and handle it together. Hailee decides on the latter.

Hesitating, her hand shakes slightly as she holds out the phone to you. It appears that now both of you will take this predicament more critically now. Grabbing the phone a tad more aggressively then you meant to, you unlock it and open the messages. But it's not often Hailee gets rendered quiet. Scrolling through the back to back texts, you understand why.

Taking your best friends advice, you immediately went to the cell phone store. She tagged along as you got a completely new phone and number, not transferring anything over, not wanting to take the risk. You didn't download any social media, deciding to take a much needed mental break for a bit. The only thing you did do, was take a few phone numbers that you needed out of your old phone, and even then you wrote them down on a piece of paper to manually add them into your contacts later.

Walking out of the store, you felt as if a weight had been lifted. Hailee locked arms with you, leading you around the corner to the nearest cafe to get iced coffee. It was her answer for everything. Bad day? Iced coffee. Need a pick me up? Iced coffee. Need to clear your head and just ramble about random shit for a bit? Iced coffee. Your best friend has an apparent stalker and we're hoping that changing phone numbers is the end all solution?! Obviously, iced coffee.

Sitting at a small table outside the cafe, enjoying the slight crispness in the fall air, you let out a huge, relieving sigh that makes your shoulders sink. You take the opportunity to add Bucky to your contacts and text him your new number. Although, you decide not to go into detail about your most recent encounter while he's still away on a mission.

Putting the phone down on the table and not have it incessantly go off with calls and texts, let's you feel as though you can finally breathe. "Thank you for coming with me, Hales, I really appreciate you."

Hailee is sucking the remnants of her drink through the straw as she looks up at you. She gives you a small, genuine side smile, "you're welcome," before smirking, "so I'm supposed to have a date tonight, with that guy Noah I've been seeing..." she leaves it open ended. "But, I should totally cancel after everythi-"

"No, please. Go out and have fun. You've been dealing with my shit enough," trying to make your words sound affirming, even with the lingering dread that you still felt.

That's one thing about Hailee. You never quite really have to twist her arm to do anything.

After showering and changing into your comfy jeans and oversized cropped sweater, it was hard not to feel the slightest tinge of jealousy watching Hailee do her finishing touches for date night in the mirror. Jealousy in the sense of missing Bucky and going out and having a carefree night, not in comparing yourself physically.

She swipes yet another layer of clear lip gloss on before fluffing her beach wave blonde hair. Turning to face you, her thick heels clack on the wooden floor as she starts adjusting her boobs in her sleek, dusty rose colored dress.

"What do you think?" Her hands glide down over her curves, "Dress is okay?"

"That dress is fire," and it is, she looks amazing. By the smile she's wearing, she's feeling it too, "too bad it's going to end up on Noah's floor ten minutes into your date." Hailee dramatically gasps, as if that's not true. It totally is.

You're both laughing until she abruptly stops, "I have to go!" She gives you a quick hug and starts scurrying towards the door, a bit awkwardly in the heels, "Bye! Love you! Lock the door!" As she goes to close the door behind her she yells back in, "don't read too much smut on your kindle while I'm gone!" and the door slams.

Shaking your head with a small laugh, you lock the door. Hailee just gave you the perfect idea of how to spend your night.

About an hour had gone by, you comfortably laid in Hailee's spare bed, a few chapters deep into your latest book. It was quiet, so when your phone vibrated on the bed next to you- you jumped slightly. Assuming it was Bucky finally having the chance to text you back, you pick it up fairly quickly. But the message you received isn't what you expected at all.

Before even unlocking the phone, you had a text alert from Unknown. There was nothing written, but all the way to the right of the alert, you could see a picture was included.

Promptly, you sat up in the bed and stared at the notification. That familiar wave of unease dispersed throughout your body as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped over your head.

This phone number is only a few hours old, how the fuck did he get it already?

The notification banner and you were in a staredown. You had to know what the message was, but you were absolutely terrified at the same time. Your thumbs hover, occasionally twitching over the screen, until you pull the trigger and swipe up.

Us. Hailee...

Driving to your apartment, you broke nearly every single traffic law that there is. The entire time you tried calling Hailee’s phone back to back, just repeating the same mantra; please pick up. Please, please pick up. She never did.

“Hailee!!” You run through your apartment door, not having to mess with it for long as it was already unlocked. You had a feeling it would be. “Answer me!” You yell, breathlessly. The apartment is eerily dark and quiet.

Coming to a halt in the main living space, you whipped your head around looking for clues and try to listen for any signs of distress. But it was so difficult to hear anything over your own breathing and pulse drumming in your ears.

You knew where you had to go, the last picture of your friends dress laid out on your bedspread was the roadmap. The bedroom door was just barely closed over, a creepy orange glow lining it and trying to escape from underneath. Each step closer that you took, felt as if a large spider made entirely of ice was crawling down your spine.

Pushing the door open slightly with just a fingernail, you peered into the room. You knew this is exactly where this person wanted you. For what? There’s only one way to find out.

There didn’t seem to be anyone in the room, so you took a few small steps in. The glow was more prominent now, giving the room an uncanny romantic ambiance with numerous amount of white candles lit all along the dressers, night tables, and bookshelves.

Taking a broad step forward, your attention is now focused on the bed. Hailee's dress is no longer laid out like it had been in the picture. Instead, there are flower petals sprinkled across your comforter. The intriguing curiosity drew you even more into the room without you even realizing. Picking up one of the petals, you rub it between your fingers, feeling it's supple and delicate smoothness as you examine it more closely. In that moment you recognize it- the familiarity of it's dark appeal. They're black dahlia petals.

Some of the petals congregated in one particular area on the bed, revealing an elegant, black gift box about the size of a large book. Your lips part slightly as you pick up the box, captivated by it's alluring magnetism. Taking off the lid, your brows furrow slightly in confusion. It's a chain. A long, thick slip chain that looks like a necklace but almost long enough to be a leash.

As your finger smoothes over the cold indentations of the chain, you hear a creak come from the floor behind you. In a startled jump, you drop the box- a slight ringing sound deafens the scene even more from the chain hitting the floor. But that's not your concern. Because as you turn around, you see him.

Within arms reach, you are confronted with the person that's been behind all of this. He's even taller up close, broader. Dressed in all black attire, this time swapping the black hoodie for a black t-shirt and black leather jacket. And without the hood, you're able to see the elongated white face from earlier.

It's a Ghostface mask.

He stands as still as a statue, watching you intently, waiting. Your eyes persist in looking him over as your chest rises and falls deeply. When your gaze meets his face once again, his head creepily tilts ever so slightly to one side.

"What's the matter?" He speaks, his voice deep and low, "you look like you've seen a ghost," the tone almost mocking.

Squinting your eyes, you look at him again. And this time you really look at him. His body frame, the clothes, the familiarity of his voice. Your eyes widen at the realization.

"Bucky?" you gape, completely stupefied. Taking the first fearless step in what feels like months, you wrap your arms around him. He returns the sentiment and you feel safe, for the first time in what feels like forever. It suddenly dawns on you that he's not actually on a mission. And probably never was.

"What- What is this?" You ask, looking up at him, slightly pushing the mask up to reveal his stubbled chin and promiscuous grin.

"There’s just something so dark and exhilarating about an unknown man behind a mask that stalks and is obsessed with you. The anonymity of it..." He repeats back the words you said to him a few months ago watching the Scream movie.

The memory of you how you told him about this kink of yours curls around your mind. That this entire time, you were never in any kind of serious danger, he just brought it to life. Weeks and months of preparation went into this, here, tonight. You should have known all along that Bucky would never have been so nonchalant about you in any type of significant situation. You're safe. You always were and always will be.

The tiny icy footprints that had trailed up your spine were long gone, now replaced with a burning and tantalizing desire. You've missed him, thinking he was away while you were dealing with this on your own. But now he's here, fulfilling your deepest desires.

Looking up, Bucky's Pacific blue eyes are already gazing down into yours, a built up and unsatisfied hunger prominent. Moving up onto your tiptoes and grabbing him behind the neck, you bring down his head and capture his lips.

Your mouth parted his, gliding and massaging his tongue with your own. A low growl reverberated from within his throat with approval, and promise to make everything up to you tenfold. Bucky's intoxicating cypress scent fills your nostrils as your inhaled deeply, pressing your breasts up into his chest. Taking off the leather gloves and shrugging his jacket onto the floor, his hands started to wildly wander around your body, giving light squeezes on your hips before settling and interlacing gingerly in your hair.

That didn't last long, though. There was a sudden and hard tug from where Bucky held your hair, enough to pull the two of you apart. The aggressiveness of the gesture was unexpected, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't fucking love it. His eyes linger on your already swollen lips, now wearing a pursed, provocative grin. His hand releases the tight grip he had on your loose curls, watching the relief from the sting flash across your eyes. Bucky has always been tender, gentle and using your body as a place of worship-but tonight is different.

Grabbing the hem of your sweater, he maneuvers it up and off to join his growing pile of discarded clothes. Dropping to his knees with a loud thud, he undoes the button and zipper of your jeans, pulling them down and weaving his tongue along the freshly exposed skin. Hissing through your teeth, your hips instinctively press forward. He lets out a dark laugh, before grabbing the chain you dropped before. Standing back up, he takes your hand, "Come," he says, leading you towards the cornered edge of the mattress.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, his muscular body causes it to sink slightly. His free hand, still holding the chain, grips his own thigh before giving it a light pat, "Sit," he commanded, again keeping that firm edge in his voice that you weren't used to. You enthusiastically follow his orders, sitting delicately facing outward in just your matching ivory lace bra and panties. It's hard not to notice how you just fit. And how much you secretly love his significantly large frame pressed against your much more petite body in comparison to his.

The soft tip of his nose runs along the outside of your neck, his large hands coasting along your shoulders, down your arms, sides, before settling on your thighs. The calluses on his hands leaving a sensational trail of tingles and heat to disperse under your skin.

"Look," his head nods forward once to get your attention, and now you see the reason why he sat you here. In the corner of the bedroom, just a few feet away, is a full length standing mirror angled perfectly to reflect everything.

You see yourself, already flushed with arousal and breathing heavily as you make eye contact with Bucky in the mirror. His devious smile pins you in place as you watch his hands pry open your legs, entrancingly over his. They willingly spread open wide for him, your restless hips now squirming, aching for more. His fingertips trace small circles on your inner thigh.

"I want you to see your face as you fall apart, " he taunted, his voice sultry in your ear, still holding your gaze in the mirror. His middle finger skims across your already embarrassingly dampened panties, causing your back to press against his rigid chest.

There was a vague rattling sound, followed by Bucky placing the large opening of the looped chain over your head and around your neck, “Bucky, what are you doing-” you watch curiously in the mirror. Part of the chain dangles between your breasts, which he wraps around his hand once and slowly starts to pull, causing the loop around your neck to compress.

It’s a choker.

Your eyes go wide, nervousness rippling through you as you grasp his intentions, “Bucky, I don’t know-”

“Do you really think you have a choice?” he barked, pulling the Ghostface mask down back onto his face. Talking to you through the mirror, “I won’t hurt you. Trust me,” he whispers, breaking character for a moment to assure you’re safe.

You nod in response, your reflection visibly eases in the mirror as the necklace slackens around your throat. He lets the chain lax too, for now.

Large hands are back to kneading your thighs, a lone finger brushing between your legs when gravitating along the inside. It’s not long until the sensation has you starting to wriggle once again.

Cupping your sex, his hand gently moves up and down, keeping a firm, yet delicate and delicious pressure. Your greedy hips tilt forward, wanting more from his right hand, while the coolness of his left continues to lazily stroke over your skin. But when that icy touch quickly grabs and tears your underwear off in one jolt, you gasp at the tiny bite the ripping cloth left behind.

Now you’re left wide and exposed- to yourself, to Bucky, to the reflections of yourselves staring intensely, watching every movement. The warmth of his hand is back, leisurely gliding two fingers between your already achingly wet pussy. Swallowing hard, your breath hitches as you can not only feel, but see, yourself start to lose composure.

Bucky pulls the two fingers away, holding them up just to your mouth, "wet them for me," he instructs, his voice silk like satin. Taking the two fingers into your mouth, your tongue swirled rapidly around the digits, savoring the salty-sweetness of your arousal. Slowly pulling them back out, you see them shine with your saliva.

Something comes over you in that moment, call it gluttonous, but you pool some extra moisture into your mouth and spit onto the fingers. Just for good measure.

There's a murmured hum of approval in your ear as he spreads your folds, teasing your increasingly sensitive clit between his two fingers. And getting Bucky's praise will only enhance the entire night. Your legs quiver at the deliberate sluggish pace, letting out shaky breaths as the overwhelming throbbing demands more attention.

Finally, the pads of those fingers start to rub your bundle of nerves in unhurried circles. Gripping onto his thigh to steady yourself, your nails clutching his jeans, a whine escapes as your hips try to buck against his hand.

That dark laugh is in your ear again, "good girls don't come until I tell them too," Bucky breathes, overly indulging in how you respond to his touch. It feels like torture, in the best possible way. The combination of his words and caress... you have never felt this good. This wanted.

Your head falls back slightly against his shoulder in small disappointment, whimpering, knowing that he's going to make you beg. And you're getting desperate enough to do so.

The leisurely pace of his fingers picks up, causing your back to arch away from his chest as you start panting. Each swipe building pleasure, layer on top of agonizing layer. Finding yourself in the mirror again, you unapologetically watch as your body vigorously writhes against his hand, your moans spilling from your mouth more and more.

"How badly do you want to come, princess?" The Ghost breathed, his chest rising and falling heavily now, trying to fight off his own desire, evident from the hard protrusion you keep rolling your hips against.

"S-so bad... Please! Please," you pleaded, not caring how desperate it sounds. Adding some additional pressure, your hips stutter. Your breathing practically stops as your moans transform into one long, drawn out strangled whine as you come apart, "O-ooh...oh my god. Oh god!"

Not even fully coming down from the repeated waves, you hear, "God's not here," growled into your ear. In one sudden movement, Bucky stands up with you in his arms before tossing you onto the bed, "just me.” the low rumble emits from his chest. Ripping off the mask, he kneels on the bed and uses his left arm to support his weight. Using those same damned two fingers, he plunges them into your drenched pussy, siphoning a sound from your throat that’s unrecognizable.

“Again,” Bucky breathes, his eyes glazed over with a new kind of wickedness as they lock into yours, “Come for me again. I fucking love all the sounds you make,” With his palm face up, his fingers start pumping you from the inside, running over your g-spot in a come here motion.

Since there was no remission from your last orgasm, the tightness in your belly never fully went away. Watching Bucky, seeing him in the tight black t-shirt while his bicep flexes from working you, his slightly furrowed brow and his lips slightly parted in determination, you could feel it building up once again.

Feeling your walls contract around him, he grinned. He changes his hand motions to going in a frantic up and down movement, and if you know, you know. Your rasped whimpers became silent as you forgot how to breathe and your vision blurred. The build up came on so fast and so strong, the only sound in the room was your ever increasing wetness.

Your mouth dropped open into a silent O, not able to think not a single coherent thought, "Thaaat's it..." Bucky coaxed, "I want you to gush all over my fucking hand," and with his words, your body quivers as you completely shatter with a loud cry. "Goood girl. God, what a good fucking girl," he soothes. You winced slightly as he pulled out his fingers, collapsing back more into the bed as you try to rein in remembering how to breathe. Bucky sits back on his knees, and almost entirely up to his elbow is glistening with how hard you just came.

With a flat tongue, he presses it to his palm, and licks all the way up to the tip of his middle finger, "Perfect," Bucky hums in satisfaction to himself. Your throat goes dry at the sight, being the cherry on top of all the mouth breathing you've been doing. Am I fucking dreaming?

Pushing his jeans down to his knees, his thick, flushed cock rebounds out of his boxers. Bucky grabs you by the hips, pulling you down the bed before flipping you over onto all fours. Each of his hands grabs a fistfull of your ass, before slapping one side. You moan at the bite of the smack, feeling delusional from needing him inside you so badly. He rubs the reddened cheek before dropping a teeth grazed kiss on the sensitive skin.

There's a coolness between your legs, and you realize that it's your juices sliding down your thighs. Not needing any preparation, you feel the tip of Bucky's fat cock lining up to slide into your tight little slit. He rubs the head up and down, lubricating just enough to push himself in. As he started to sink into you, it took every bit of will you had not to collapse as you felt his slight struggle to get in.

"Fuck, you're tight," he sighs. But truth be told, he's just that big. As if he had a direct roadmap, he slides in effortlessly right to the hilt, poking the sweetest spot of all making you choke out a sob, "You can take it, can't you angel?" He breathes huskily, amusement draped around the words as he dragged his cock back maliciously slow, letting you feel the ridge of each vein, every delectable centimeter of his length.

You feel your eyes roll closed, enjoying the all consuming sensation. With one quick thrust all at once, Bucky simultaneously yanks on the chain of the forgotten choker forcing your eyes open with a loud cry to find him glaring at you in the mirror, "Look at me when I'm fucking you," he reprimanded, in a subdued yet stern voice.

He started to move in a merciless rhythm, keeping the chain taut in one of the hands that clenched your hips. Each thrust delivered not only a delectable deep nudge against your cervix, but a small slap of his balls to your achingly sensitive clit. The combination of internal and external stimulation has you singing your own personal explicit cry, almost on the verge of tears with the intensity.

It's almost cruel the way that he fucks you, like he's dismantling you piece by piece, mentally, physically, emotionally. Never have you been treated like such a prize possession and a cheap whore at the same time. Your walls flutter around his cock, swallowing him needing moremoremore. You're body's accepted that this pussy is Bucky's. It's meant for him. It was made for him.

In the reflection you can see Bucky wet his lips, his eyes darting between yours and your ass bouncing off of his snapping hips. He continues to murmur soft, filthy praises as he fucks another orgasm from you. The choker tensed as you came, making the edges of your vision blurry- your walls clenching so tightly, causing each stroke to become more intense than the next. After you completely shattered, the chain went slack once again.

Manhandling you one last time, Bucky lays back flat on the bed and positions you to straddle him. You shake your head in an almost delirious state, "I-I can't. Buck, I-" you whisper, thoroughly cock drunk, "I can't," you pleaded.

"Yes you can, angel," his hands glide over your sweat coated thighs, a lecherous expression on his face. You nod ever so slightly, because even as spent and exhausted as you feel, you want to see him come apart. You want to look down into his eyes as joins you in the fucked out bliss.

You grab the base of his cock, using it to align yourself before sliding back down on top of him. Bucky's eyes widen, watching intensely as your bodies joined one another. All the air releases out of his lungs at the sight of your greedy pussy sucking him all the way in- deeper, your thighs already trembling. His hands clench your hips as your they start to grind back and forth.

His ab muscles flex under your nail piercing grasp- that pressure once again starting to build. He's just so deep, you're still just so wet from coming 3 times in a row, and now his wide tip is nestled so perfectly against your cervix that each motion of your body feels like you're going to spontaneously combust and die. But there's no way that heaven could be better than this. Those painfully beautiful sapphire blue eyes filled with an rapacious hunger that only you can fulfill.

You're mouth opens in attempt to say his name like a prayer, or something as equally dirty, but all that comes out is a sputter of shuddered gasps. Bucky's unapologetically loud moans grow more frequent, turning into their own long, drawn out beautiful melody, "fuck," he whispers, "that's so good."

Leaning down, chest to chest, you capture his lips in yours- swallowing those gorgeous sounds. Bucky takes this opportunity to thrust his hips up, massaging your inner walls as you push back against him. The loud smacking of flesh borderline drown out the sounds of both your orgasms, but you could feel the vibration from deep within Bucky's throat through the kiss. Rope after rope, you could feel his warmth emptying inside of you.

The strokes became laguid as he maintained the kiss- Bucky's hands cupping your face gently, which was such a dichotomy compared to the way he fucked you tonight. You finally pull your lips apart, collapsing fully on top of his body. Laying in silence, all you can hear is each other's ragged breathing and the drumming of his heart in your ear against his chest.

"I am... never getting rid of that fucking mask," Bucky chuckles lightly.

"Just so you know," you prop your chin up on your palm, "there's 5 other movies in the franchise."

If you enjoyed this, please check out my masterlist.

@peaches1958 @aquabrie @elsie-bells @pono-pura-vida @redbloodedgurl @almosttoopizza @beware-my-thorns @prettylittlepluviophile @annoyinglythoughtfuldestiny @calwitch @ozwriterchick @roofwitty779 @lessersole @lil-darhk @agoddoesnotplead @saranghaey @erinallene @mrsvxder @elizabeth916 @cjand10 @bucky-barnes-lover @wintrsoldrluvr

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sleepinthrumyalarms · 1 year ago

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— a study in demon

pairing: wednesday addams x fem!oni!reader

warnings: smut, lesbian sex, a/b/o dynamics in werewolves and demons, penetration, G!P!reader, it's demon girlcock OKAY, cockwarming, breeding kink, size kink, knotting, all characters are aged-up

summary: an unfortunate turn of events leaves wednesday with a very frustrated, very needy oni demon on her hands. what kind of girlfriend would she be if she didn't take care of her beloved?

word count: 4.5k

a/n: jesus christ, look at those warnings. this fic is a whole declaration of war. i went feral. i have nothing to say for myself. hope you enjoy

The first thing you feel when the annoying buzzing of the alarm pulls you out of your peaceful slumber is the immense heat of your body and the ache somewhere in your lower belly. A groan leaves your throat before you can even blink your eyes fully open, and you blindly reach for your phone to turn the screaming noise off.

You sit up on your bed and squint at the sunlight that streams through the tiny slit in the tightly shut curtains, opening a small calendar app that’s designed specifically for the creatures of your kind – and with a huff you realize your rut is coming in two days.

Damn it. You’ve completely forgotten about it. That certainly explains the aggressiveness and mood swings you’ve been having for the past week.

You open a new text message, sent from your girlfriend at 5:30 AM – not exactly an early riser, but definitely the type to pull an all-nighter on a school night – wishing you the most dreadful morning. You smile to yourself, and the smallest thought of her seems to be enough to motivate you to get out of bed and start the day despite the uncomfortable feeling stirring in your belly.

Thank all the gods almighty – Larissa Weems, especially – that it is still a non-uniform week at the Academy. Sitting in class with that tie wrapped around your throat like a noose would’ve killed you.

You rummage through your wardrobe, pulling out a tee and a pair of jeans, changing hastily, before your gaze falls on a particular item of clothing that definitely doesn’t belong in your closet.

It’s a black baggy zip hoodie, the one Wednesday constantly wears when out of class. It’s a surprise she has forgotten it at your place – your best guess is she must’ve left in one of your sweatshirts instead.

The fabric feels smooth in your grasp. Warm fleece lining. A bit abrasive on the outside.

Just like her.

You lift the hoodie to your face, burying your nose in the softness and inhaling.

Smells just like her, too.

Without a second thought you put it over your frame – though a bit more of a tight fit, it’s still slightly baggy on your shoulders – and zip it up, pulling the hood over your head to take another small whiff of the familiar scent.

That should get you through the day, you think.

And it does. For the first half of it, at least.

You take an extra suppressant pill during lunch, but skip the meal, opting to spend the free time in the quad to ventilate your head.

It feels better. Much, much better. Even though you don’t get to see Wednesday at the canteen.

You’re back inside for your last period – maths, and your mind gets too busy with the complicated equations and formulas to worry about the hormones running wild in your body.

You’re half-way through a very fucked-up problem with roots and sines before a strong aroma suddenly fills up your lungs – an omega’s pheromones, you realize, wide-eyed.

An omega who is in heat.

You lift your head up, giving the students around you a quick once-over – and your gaze meets a pair of golden orbs, a pretty girl with pink plump lips and fiery-red hair tied into a pony tail watches you with interest, her chin propped on her palm. As soon as you make eye-contact, she gives you a smile, revealing a small, adorable gap in the front row of her teeth.

You shake your head and smile back politely before turning back to your paper, but the rest of the class feels like you’re trapped in a suffocating cage of hot arousal that smells of yellow fruit and washed laundry.

As soon as the bell dismisses the students, you hastily pack your bag and bolt out of the door, desperate to lock yourself in your dorm room and just take care of this stupid predicament you’ve found yourself in. You’ve never been more grateful for the lack of a roommate.

“Hey, (Y/n).”

You stop and turn at the sound of your name being called, although the voice is quite unfamiliar – too melodic and gentle to be anyone you know.

“Hey, uh...”

It’s the redhead from maths. She watches you expectantly for a few moments before her face falls slightly, “It’s Dina! I was with the Black Cats last year. We met at the after party? The one Yoko hosted?” She sounds almost offended at the fact that you don’t remember her.

“Oh. Oh, right. Dina. Sorry. I’m really bad with names.” You smile apologetically.

“It’s fine. I’d be surprised if you remembered me, actually. This academy holds way too many ginger werewolves,” Dina chuckles, and falls in step with you to continue walking down the hall. “So, you up to anything right now?”

“No, not really. Just hoping to get back to the dorms and sleep my awful headache off. Been bugging me all day.”

It’s only a half-lie – your temples are still throbbing like crazy, and the pheromones you’ve smelled in class did nothing to help your case.

The werewolf tilts her head, pursing her plump lips, “Hmm... That’s too bad, because, actually...”

The smaller girl suddenly grabs your hips and pushes you – unprepared, you stumble to the side and right through the door of some random classroom. Barely able to catch your balance at Dina’s abrupt movement, your hands grasp at her forearms, desperately trying to steady the rest of your body.

“I was thinking I could help you relieve that pain of yours.”

She looks up at you, tilts her chin up slightly. The smell of citron and fresh linen suddenly fills your nose.

The same one you’ve felt in class.

The omega in heat.

Fuck.

The werewolf in front of you settles with pumping her pheromones at you wildly, her palms flitting from your hips down to your thighs, slowly closing in on your center – you do nothing to stop her, your own hands reaching behind you to grip the edge of the desk. Her eyes are glinting red now, slitted pupils never breaking eye contact with yours.

She presses her nose against your scent gland, and you feel her grin against your neck.

“I don’t smell an omega on you...” Shit. Of course Wednesday’s hoodie doesn’t smell like anything but her usual dark resins and woods scent. As much as it is alluring and recognizable to you, it’s not pheromones. “You haven’t mated with one yet? That’s just criminal... An alpha like you should spend all her ruts with a pretty omega impaled on her cock.”

You take a sharp inhale through your nose, feeling yourself throb treacherously at her words. Dina giggles softly, pressing her lips to your jaw, her mouth now inches away from yours.

“You know…” she starts sultry, voice heavy with unadulterated lust in a way that only an omega’s can sound to the ears of a rutting alpha, “I’ve never taken an oni’s knot before…”

You feel the werewolf squeeze your thighs, bare her claws in a sharp movement, “I wonder what it feels like.”

Your head is heavy, cloudy – you’re practically unable to resist, tusked mouth hanging open with small puffs of vapors fluttering out. The urge to bend the small werewolf over the desk and pound her into the wood feels even harder to resist, too.

An unpleasant feeling rattles through your chest, unbearable and disgusting. An image of dark-brown eyes and soft lips painted burgundy flashes through your mind.

You feel like you’re going to puke.

“No,” you rasp, pushing the werewolf away. “Get off me.”

Before the startled girl can retort, you stumble out of the classroom and slam the door closed, turning the key that has been left in the keyhole by some clumsy substitute.

You stumble for a moment, lifting a clawed palm to grasp at your head that has suddenly turned cloudy and heavy, and make your way towards the ladies’ restroom.

She must’ve felt the rut closing on you, and her own heat triggered it prematurely.

With shaky hands you pull out your phone, opening the messages app and texting the first person that comes to your clouded mind.

enid

bro you gotta ditch

it’s an emergency

i just stumbled into a girl

uhh dina?

she’s from ophelia hall

anyways i think she needs… help

from a fellow omega wolf

i think she hasn’t been taking her suppressants

for some fucking reason

and yk it’s not like me to live a lady in distress

but i really had to dip

i was doing her a favor by dipping actually

i locked her up on the 2nd floor

202

i really had to leave

Pressing your back against one of the bathroom stalls, you wait anxiously as three gray dots dance on the screen.

The device dingles in your hands.

oooohh

its okay

i gotchu

u should totes find weds tho

im sure she can help u out ;))

You hide your phone in your pocket and open the tap to splash your face with cold water. It eases the flush of your face, but doesn’t calm the raging beast inside.

Your fingers grasp onto the edges of the sink tightly, almost making the marble crack.

As you walk through the corridors and up the stairs of Ophelia Hall, the only thought that occupies your mind is Wednesday. Wednesday and her dark eyes and her lips and her touch and the beautiful curve of her slender hips and everything that is your mate.

You don’t bother knocking, urgently swinging the door open.

And there it is. Your (f/c) sweater, no doubt one of her monochrome striped shirts under it.

Your palms are sweating. Claws digging into your pant legs, tusks into your lip.

The small ravenette turns in her seat to look at you, her fingers stilling over the keys of her typewriter.

Her braided hair looks pristine and untouched, her posture unmatched, the image perfect even when out of public sight.

“Ma bête,” she addresses softly, brows slightly raised in question. “You’re back. And you look… a trifle uncomfortable.”

Does she not know? There’s no way she doesn’t. Such details could never slip Wednesday’s unhealthily constantly alerted mind.

“Is something wrong?”

Fuck. Of course. There it is, that cruel glint in her eyes. You should’ve known.

She wants you to say it.

You shift on your feet. The temperature is becoming almost unbearable.

“I’m…”

Wednesday watches you, tilts her head just a tiny bit forward — dark, haunted eyes deadpan, staring you down, her jaw tightening slightly and relaxing in a way that is barely noticeable but has your gaze flicking down to the enticing slant of her neck.

“I’m… in a rut.” You admit, finally.

Wednesday’s eyes widen slightly — her posture straightens even more, the glint in her eyes turning dangerous, “Oh.” Yes, oh, as if she wasn’t aware. “Why are the suppressants not working?”

Should you admit that the small encounter with the horny omega has sent your hormones spiraling?

Wednesday is by no means a normal human, yet her nose lacks the capability of sensing alpha pheromones. Nevertheless, she can read you like a book, and she probably was aware of your coming rut long before you were. She simply likes abusing the knowledge.

“It must be bad then, if it has you reduced to such a pathetic state,” the goth tuts, drumming her fingers against her desk. “Pure torture, isn’t it, bête? I wish I could help you…”

Wednesday turns back to her paper, shrugging noncommittally, “Unfortunately, it is my writing hour, and you know how much I would detest an intervention in my schedule.”

You whine as the drumming of her keys resumes – like a kicked puppy, you turn to reach for the doorknob, prepared to return back to the restroom and take care of yourself to the thought of your ever-so beautiful and unyielding girlfriend.

Wednesday’s fingers still on the typewriter.

“But I suppose… We can reach a consensus.”

The legs of her chair scrape against the hardwood floor, and you turn to find Wednesday standing next to the desk, palm resting on the back of the seat invitingly.

“Come here.”

You’re beside Wednesday before the whole command can escape her mouth, and she gives a small, amused huff that almost has you howling and gnawing at furniture, then gestures at the chair, “Sit. Unbutton your pants, underwear off.”

You reach to do as told, pulling at a pant-leg to finally discard the constricting garment before the ravenette slaps your hand, “Just the button and the zipper, (Y/n). Do not make me repeat myself.”

You gulp and take a seat at her desk, tugging the elastic of your boxers down to free the hard shaft.

The dark, intense gaze Wednesday is watching you with makes you blush and throb, excitement and arousal mixing with the slightest of embarrassments only her presence can induce.

“Good girl,” she hums, circling the chair like a hunting lioness. “I will allow you to be inside me, just this once. I will not allow you to touch me in any other way. If I feel any movement, internal or external, you will be punished. And by no means are you allowed to cum. Not without my permission. Are the instructions clear, beast? Nod your empty little head if affirmative.”

You nod with a small whimper at the derogatory words, though they do nothing to soothe the aching hardness between your legs.

“Good, good. Well, since the terms are settled, I shall get started.”

Before you can respond, Wednesday steps closer to the desk, slightly flipping her skirt with a quick movement of her hand and letting you catch the smallest of glimpses of her pretty pussy – the show is over before you can marvel though, and the seer sits on your lap, your length pressing against her lower back.

Like this, with no distance left between you, her scent is encompassing your whole being. No pheromones can compare to the way Wednesday smells, the rich, woodsy notes of a forest soaked in rainwater luring you in as you take a small inhale.

You bite back a growl, but a small noise of frustration still manages to reach the ravenette’s sharp hearing.

“Quiet, beast.” She scolds, her tone of voice far from playful, and reaches to straighten her skirt carefully, flicking the non-existing dust off the garment in a graceful movement of her palm.

Then, before you can downright keen with impatience, the same hand moves behind to wrap around your hard member, giving it a squeeze so light it is almost torturous – Wednesday lifts her hips and presses the head against the warmth of her entrance.

That first contact feels like electricity and fire in your belly, worsened when you feel your cock split her lips open, stretching her taut around it, and the smallest worry that you might just not fit passes through your rut-clouded mind.

Then again, Wednesday might not even be merciful enough to sheathe you fully inside her, but the thought of being too big to be properly seated in her cunt is tantalizing and excruciating at the same time.

A small, relieved sigh escapes Wednesday’s lips – the sensation of being filled up with you is like no other, and she can’t help but relish in it despite her aggravation. She takes her time, feeling every inch push deeper inside her and stretch her out, the thick shaft splitting her open, then her thighs press into yours and she stills completely.

If she had to, the goth would put all the time and work in to stretch herself out with your girth, to take all of you inside her like she was molded just for that single purpose. It’s not like Wednesday has something to prove to anyone – or maybe she has, to you, that no one else at Nevermore could take you so well and make all your resolve, might and dominance provided to you by nature, or by gods, or by whatever entity has created such a delectable beast as you crumble under her and make it natural for you to submit to the seer.

And oh does submissiveness look good on you, too – or at least it sounds good, if your heavy breathing mixed with quiet whines hitting her ear is anything to go by.

Wednesday is reminded of her goal suddenly when she feels your hips buck instinctually into her, and the ravenette has to hold back a sound of pleasure at the movement, because she can’t fight how incredible the pressure feels, making her velvet walls flutter. She’s still holding the reins when she tightens her pussy around your throbbing dick purposefully, a trace of a small smirk on her plush burgundy lips at the needy and wanton groan that escapes your mouth.

That was a good enough treat, she thinks. Now to the sticks.

Wednesday kicks you in the shin with the side of her loafer, pulling you out of your pleasure-induced trance and making you flinch.

“Move closer to the desk, beast. I need to be able to reach the keys in order to type.”

You grunt, shuffling the chair closer with your weight, nudging Wednesday’s body forward, and the slightest shift makes you hiss — she slides a few inches up your shaft before she’s at the base again, seated nice and snug, her thighs resting on yours. Your hands fall to grapple at them, and you receive another painful kick.

“No. Hands off. If you are unable to control yourself, I will shun you out.” Wednesday scolds, though has to hide the effect the feeling of your claws curling around her have, and fails. Her voice sounds more breathless than she has intended.

She has a hard time admitting to herself how torturous this is for her, too. The seer sneaks a glance down to where the thick shaft splits her open, so tight she can practically feel it throbbing against her clit. A small bead of precum runs down, skirting one of the throbbing veins.

Wednesday’s restraint is laudable.

“Messy creature,” she murmurs, her tone surprisingly soft, before the paper in front of her takes over her attention again. Straightening her back, the ravenette goes back to her writing as if she’s not full of demon cock right now.

You try to focus on the rapid clatter of the keys, on the way Wednesday’s elegant fingers dance over the typewriter, maybe try and catch a glance of the words the girl is printing on the paper. Anything to pull your mind away from the tight warmth hugging your aching cock, from weight of the small body pressed against you.

The demon inside of you is raging, howling, salivating between huge tusks. The monster is not as prejudiced as the fellow oni of your clan are – it doesn’t care if it’s another demon or a human you’re nestled inside. It demands the frail body pressed against your own is filled up and bred, demands the goth takes all of you, stretching around your swollen knot before it's barely able to slip inside.

Not just any body. Or some omega. Wednesday. Wednesday who isn’t even a part of that animalistic system, but the beast begs for more, wants all of her more, more with each passing second.

A growl mixed with a whimper escapes your mouth – you have no idea what to do with your hands, so you press them into the edge of the table on either side of Wednesday’s typewriter, claws digging into the dark wood. The involuntarily display of strength has the small female tightening around you with a gentle hitch of her breath, making you groan.

“Wednesday,” you rasp through clenched teeth. “I can’t. Please. I’m losing control.”

“O-oh, are you?” The goth inquires mockingly, hoping you don’t take notice of her slight stutter.

“Mhm,” you nod dumbly. “Wanna take you so bad. Wanna fuck you full of me.”

Wednesday can’t fight the way her pussy constricts around you again, though the determination not to lose control remains, strong as ever. She abandons the keys to reach a hand into your hair, grabbing a fistful of (h/c) locks to pull and make you meet her gaze, “Whose is it, (Y/n)?”

You furrow your brows in confusion, making Wednesday’s frown deepen – a hint for the right answer comes in the form of the seer’s hips lifting and rocking back down, the friction making you hiss.

“Answer me.”

“Yours.” You swallow. “Yours, Wednesday. Every- every inch is.”

“Good. Good girl.” She coos, easing her hold on you to rake her short nails down the back of your neck, making goosebumps litter your body. “Bed, beast. Now.”

A low growl rumbling in your chest and vibrating against her back is the only warning Wednesday gets before she’s lifted into the air sharply.

In a rough, barely controlled movement you stand up so fast you topple the chair over, flipping the girl with ease and walking a couple of steps to press her against the bed, the ravenette’s cunt still snug around your shaft. A clawed hand reaches for a pillow hastily to cushion Wednesday’s head, the last resemblance of caring gentleness in your actions before you pull out to the tip and buck back inside.

Wednesday’s head snaps back, mouth falling open in pleasure as you pin her down into the mattress, fucking hard into the welcoming, tight warmth of her pussy. Despite the dynamics of oni demons still being fairly alien to Wednesday – not as alien apparently, as she knows the frequency and signs of your rut better than you do and isn’t opposed to using it against you – she now seems to understand the appeal of being absolutely destroyed by an alpha that omegas in heat are so partial to.

As delectable as the thought is, it rekindles the spark of possessiveness that she thought has almost been extinguished. The goth wraps her arms around your shoulders, pulling your bodies flush together.

Hers. No one else’s.

Not some other depraved omega girl’s so desperate to get a taste of you.

“You foolish brute.” She pants as if it’s your fault you seem to be irresistible to other women, voice trembling slightly, her breath completely pushed out of her lungs with each of your thrusts. “You better make good on your promise and breed me like a good alpha should.”

The monster inside you roars at the proposition that is so obviously supposed to be taunting. Your palms slide down the girl’s waist, thumbs brushing against the protruding hipbones to dip into the supple flesh sitting low under her navel, holding her tightly, almost hard enough to bruise and match the brutal pace of your hips rutting into Wednesday, your cock splitting her open deliciously in a toe-curling sensation that has Wednesday’s head falling back against the dark pillows.

The sight under you has you growling savagely – your tongue lolls out to lick a thick stripe up the exposed skin of the ravenette’s neck before you bite down, huge tusks clasping around her throat and keeping Wednesday in place completely, her pulse wild against the rough surface of your muscle. Her pussy constricts around your cock, clamping down hard in an attempt to keep the thick shaft buried to the hilt every time you pull out and quivering when you slam back inside and fill her up enough for the tip to kiss the entrance of her womb, never letting the small female catch her breath.

The lustful fog of ardent fervor clouding Wednesday’s brain doesn’t numb her to the sensation of a swelling at the base of your shaft nudging against her opening every time your hips meet hers. It threatens to push in, catches deliciously on Wednesday’s clit with each thrust and she can feel herself getting painfully close.

But she will not. For the sake of the one thing she wants more than anything else, the goth will deprive herself.

“Knot me.” She rasps into your ear, her feet pushing into your lower back to urge you deeper inside. “Mia bestia, mia alfa. Dentro. Ven dentro di mi.”

You’d have no clue what she has just said on a normal day, and you have zero idea right now, buried eight inches deep inside of her, but the breathless, desperate pants of Italian have you turning feral. In one last brutal thrust the knot slips past Wednesday’s tight lips and inside, stretching and filling her so thoroughly and impossibly delicious it has her eyes rolling into the back of her head. A spill of wetness from her own release rushing forth as she clamps down on your cock lubes her aching walls, helping the bulging slide in firmly.

Your lips gravitate to hers, pulled to her like a magnet, and you growl into her mouth as your cum spills hotly, taking up any remaining space inside the small female and her walls ripple, begging for more. Wednesday's arms tighten around your shoulders and legs squeeze around your hips to keep you close.

You throb with sated completion, press lazy kisses to the seer’s brow and flushed cheeks, and watch as her eyes flutter open to meet yours, her chest heavy with steamy breaths.

“Too hot, huh?” You ask, jaw slack slightly.

Wednesday gives a weak nod, and you reach to tug the sweater off her shoulders, then unzip her skirt to slip it down her pale legs, leaving the girl in just her striped shirt. The newly exposed skin provides better contact for you to revel in – you purr in satisfaction and move to join the seer on the bed, careful not to crush her, and maneuver her small body in your palms to pull her on top of you.

Wednesday huffs but doesn’t resist, nudging at your neck with her nose and pressing a soft kiss to your jugular in an uncharacteristic display of affection.

“How did you find out?” You murmur, lifting your hands to start undoing one of the ravenette’s loosened braids leisurely.

“I have my ways.”

You hum at the vague reply, now certain that the disembodied hand following you around the whole day wasn’t just your imagination playing tricks, “I hope you know I had no intention to lie to you or anything. You just- you didn’t exactly give me a chance to speak.”

“Your explanation wasn’t necessary. I’m well aware of what happened.” The movement of the seer’s plush lips tickles your skin pleasantly, her voice now void of its previous detachment.

You smile softly, finished with unbraiding her hair, your fingers threading through the silky raven locks, careful not to give an accidental tug. Wednesday closes her eyes at your touch, and the tranquility of the moment has you feeling like a cat basking in warm sunlight, despite the object of your passions being a complete opposite to it.

“I’ll have to consult Enid on the topic of which herbs are the deadliest to werewolves.”

“Wednesday.”

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x reader smut #wednesday addams smut #wednesday x reader #wednesday x reader smut #wednesday smut #wednesday imagine #wednesday x female reader #wednesday #wednesday addams #wlw smut

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bri-cheeses · 6 months ago

Text

Jerseys vs. Hoodies - Part 2

| Rosekiller microfic | Word count: 730 | Part 1 can be found here |

“I. Am. Famished,” Barty announces as soon as he catches sight of Evan and Regulus, who are still sitting in their little booth in the library. They haven’t talked much since the whole jersey-hoodie incident, instead choosing to work quietly.

At least, they had been working quietly until Barty showed up.

He brings his usual amount of life and energy with him as he flings himself onto the space next to Evan, then slumps down so that his legs reach out far underneath the table.

He has the hood of his sweatshirt up, Evan notices with a small amount of fondness, making him look softer than usual. It’s cute, and Evan wishes that he could tell Barty that just because he wanted to.

But, of course, he can’t say that, so he settles for a simple, “Dinner’s in half an hour, I’m sure you’ll survive.”

“But Evie,” Barty whines, “a half an hour is a whole thirty minutes. Do you really want me to starve to death?”

He looks up at Evan with a pout on his face, and Evan’s lips twitch into a smile at the sight. Why does he have to be so… Barty? It just hurts sometimes, that’s all.

“You’ll manage,” Regulus chimes in from the opposite side of the table. His essay is almost done, perfect cursive taking up six and a half sheets of paper.

Evan looks down at his own, which is currently only at four pages, and sighs. It’s going to be a long night for him.

“Merlin, you two are so mean.” Barty slumps even further, this time leaning to his right so that he can rest his head against Evan’s shoulder. The unexpected gesture startles Evan, causing him to look down at Barty in surprise.

“What?” Barty asks, tilting his head up to make eye contact with Evan.

Those eyelashes should be illegal, Evan thinks.

“You just… surprised me,” he murmurs.

Barty smiles and nuzzles further into Evan’s shoulder.

It’s so domestic that Evan could cry—at least, until he could until he catches sight of Regulus’s unimpressed face from across the table.

“Bee,” Evan says, wanting to get Regulus back for ruining this one nice moment, “have you noticed Reg’s fashion statement for this evening?”

Evan regrets having said anything almost as soon as Barty lifts his head, severing that point of contact between them, but it’s worth it to see the way Barty’s eyes widen as he takes in Regulus’s outfit.

“Is that a Gryffindor jersey?” He asks incredulously. “You know that they’re the enemy, right?”

“Enemy is such a dramatic word,” Regulus mutters.

“It’s the right word,” Evan assures. Regulus cuts a glare towards him.

But Barty is not to be distracted, his brows furrowed in confusion. “Where did you even get a Gryffindor jersey in the first place?”

Evan starts to laugh—this is, after all, the best part.

“It’s Potter’s,” Evan tells him.

Barty turns toward Evan with wide eyes, looking back and forth between Regulus and Evan. His expression is so comical that if it were anyone else, Evan would assume they weren’t being genuine. But it’s Barty, and this is just how he is.

“Really?” he finally squeaks out.

Reg sighs. “Yeah. Surprise.”

“I—wow. Just… wow. When did that happen?”

“None of your business,” Reg snaps.

Barty narrows his eyes at him and Evan can sense this turning south, so he quickly supplies, “Reg’s very private, Bee. It’s not anything personal and you know it, so don’t get mad at him.”

Barty huffs. “Fine. But I’m still curious.”

“I know,” Evan soothes, “but we’ll find out soon enough.”

Regulus looks at him sharply. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Evan just pantomimes zipping his mouth shut, and Barty cackles joyously.

“This is gonna be fun,” he laughs, leaning back into Evan. Evan catches Barty’s weight easily this time, glad to have his warmth back.

“I’m going to kill you both if you decide to get involved,” Reg threatens.

At that, Barty gasps dramatically and clutches onto Evan’s arm, sending a swooping sensation through Evan’s stomach.

“Save me, Evs,” he pleads. Evan pats him on the head with his free arm.

“Of course, Bee,” he sympathizes. Barty wrinkles his nose at the patronizing gesture but tightens his hold on to Evan’s arm regardless, contrasting with his facial expression.

“Merlin, you two are hopeless,” Regulus mutters under his breath.

(Part 3)

#rosekiller #rosekiller microfic #evan rosier #barty crouch jr #slytherin skittles #regulus black #jegulus #marauders era #marauders fandom #my microfics

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suzukiblu · 3 months ago

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mistaken identities and interdimensional refugees please!! the amount of identity shenanigans i can sense from that work is off the charts, not to mention the confusion! its so fun!!!

By the time he’s snatching the homeless guy out of the path of the truck, Kon’s wearing a hooded sweatshirt zipped up to his neck with the hood yanked down over his head, he’s restyled his hair with his TTK underneath it, and he’s yanked on a pair of sunglasses and a pair of track pants over his suit pants and button-down. It’s not exactly an ideal disguise, considering he’s also in dress socks and not wearing gloves, but it’s definitely an improvement over showing off an extremely expensive custom suit tailored for an arm candy boyfriend and a face that’s already been mistaken for two different locals who are both apparently alive and active in this reality.

Especially since even showing up presumably significantly younger than those locals doesn’t rule out being them, given the whole . . . multiverse-ness of the multiverse.

Yeah, definitely especially since that.

#anonymous #wip: mistaken identities and interdimensional refugees

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put-me-through-the-wall · 6 months ago

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Okay how about Kidnapper!Konig who ends up crossing paths with you. A case file was dropped onto his desk one day. The manilla file consists of a couple of personal documents of yours and a glossy copy of your passport photo. Your hair brushed out of your face with wide eyes and beautiful lips pouting back at him. He knew from that moment you were more than just a mark.

In no time he is in your city, memorizing your schedule. It wasn't hard to do. You are very predictable. He doesn't even need to trail far behind as you walk through parking lots and sidewalks. He once followed you all the way back to your front door, caught up in the scent of your fading perfume. You never even looked behind you. You really shouldn't wear headphones all the time. You're far too pretty to be this oblivious to your surroundings.

You have a shitty live-in boyfriend who has gotten you into this whole mess. Konig hates watching you through your window when you get home. Seeing the loser guy lounging on your couch. Eating all your food and complaining about anything he can pick on. He watches as you pace room to room picking up after that pig. Thankfully, you were only targeted due to your connection to him. He's not sure how a sweet girl like you got involved with such a dangerous man.

After almost a week of tracking you he determines the time to act. You like to take a scenic side street when you walk home from work. The cobblestone path between two blocks of old historic buildings. The ivy and overgrown trees taking over the space creeping through the iron rod fencing line either side of the walkway. It's late in the evening, the lampposts lighting your path with a yellow tint while you walk down the cobblestone. You're heels click along the stone and once again you have those damn headphones on. Konig is thankful he able to be here instead of some creep. You step along your way so comfortable in your routine now.

You don't even notice when Konig's wide stride catches up to you. You don't see his large shadow looming over you while you mindlessly scroll through your social media feed. He can't help the smile that pulls at his lips underneath his hood when he sees you liking a silly cat video. Then he wraps his massive arms around you. Before you can make a sound he covers your mouth with a rag soaked with a certain special sedative. He shushes you gently as you scream against the dense fabric. You don't struggle for long. Nails scratching at his forearm don't cause real damage through his thick sweatshirt. You kick and thrash but he holds you tight to his chest. He feels your heart thumping against your rib cage like a scared baby bird until finally, you relax. Your head lulls to the side and falling into the crevice of his arm. He stare down at your closed lids, you look so peaceful now. The scent of your hair product penetrates the material of his mask.

There is plenty of time to adore your sleeping form, not here though. He hoists you up in his arms, carrying you bridal style back to his van. Carefully slipping you into the back but not before zip tying your hands and feet. You shouldn't be awake anytime soon but he's not one to take chances.

━━━━⊱♡⊰━━━━

I'm just writing down some things I've been thinking about lately. Please let me know if you want more of things like this or if you want me to do a part two. Any comments or tags I see make me smile <3

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#konig x reader #konig call of duty #konig mw2 #konig cod #cod x reader #call of duty #konig fic

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fortheloveofwonderland · 1 year ago

Text

Midnight | Chapter 8 | S.R

Not my gif. Gif does not depict appearance of reader

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Chapter Summary - you find yourself in a compromising position and have to convince Spencer you’re on his side.

A/N - fun fact this was the second chapter I wrote when I started this fic as I knew exactly how I wanted their first time to play out. Enjoy the filth!

Pairing - unsub! Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - dark angst | smut | very eventual happy ending

Warnings - restraints, swearing, blood kink, bruises, mild strangulation, mentions of rapists and murder, making out, fingering, handjob, oral (fem receiving), slight edging, penetrative sex, unprotected sex.

WC - 5.8k

Chapter 8 - Dancing With the Devil

You roused from sleep slowly, feeling yourself ebbing into consciousness as your brain languidly woke itself up. For a brief and blissful few seconds you forgot where you were and the situation you were in.

As you started to fade back into the living realm, the first thing that alerted you to the fact you weren’t at home in your own bed was when you tried to move your arms to rub your eyes. At first when they didn’t budge you thought maybe you were still asleep, not yet conscious enough to have control over your limbs.

But when you tried again, you managed to move them an inch or so before you met resistance and something felt like it was tugging against your wrists.

You blinked several times, trying to focus on your surroundings. But before you could take the room in, your eyes landed another set, sitting next to you on the bed and smiling softly at you.

“You’re awake.” Spencer mumbled softly, looking at you like you were the most important thing in the world to him.

You swallowed thickly as the memories came flooding back to you and you realised where you were. But that didn’t explain why you couldn’t move your arms. They weren’t at your sides, they were above your head. As if reading your thoughts Spencer spoke again.

“I’m sorry about the restraints, I wasn’t sure if I could trust you.” He nodded over your head and that’s when you realised something silky was wrapped around your wrists, one of his ties maybe?

You tried to pull against them but met resistance again. You whimpered a little pathetically.

“I’m sorry.” You chewed on your bottom lip. “I didn’t mean to stab you.”

“I don’t care about that.” He rolled his eyes. “You disobeyed me.”

You frowned a little, head still full of sleep as you tried to work out what he was talking about. The last few days had been a complete blur.

“I don’t know what you mean.” You croaked.

Spencer chuckled with a shake of his head, a slight amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Oh please, I know everything.” He scoffed. “You called Luke. On a pay phone which he could easily have Garcia track if he wanted to. What did you say to him?”

Oh fuck, yes you had done that hadn’t you? It seemed like so long ago now, so much had happened since then it had slipped your mind. You swallowed thickly.

“Nothing. I was just checking in. Do you really think I’d be so stupid as to tell him what’s going on? I’m complicit in all of this Spencer, if you go down I’m going down with you.”

“I can’t be too careful, Y/N.” He clucked with an amused glint in his eyes. “I will not get caught.”

“Just untie me, we can talk.” You pleaded with him but he was shaking his head.

“No, not yet.” He chuckled a little which you found to be an oddly haunting noise.

He wore a pair of dark denim jeans paired with a zip up hooded sweatshirt with a white t-shirt peeking out over the top. You’d started to grow used to seeing him in this much more casual state but only when he went out to take care of business.

“You know I don’t like to get my good suits covered in blood.” He remarked as if it was the most normal thing in the world to say.

As though you didn’t understand what he meant, he raised his arms, proffering his hands towards you. His large palms were caked in claret, his fingers too, you wouldn’t be surprised if it was under his nails as well. The blood had started to dry into the creases and wrinkles in his hands but in other places you could see it was still wet and sticky. The underside of that gold band he wore was reddened too.

The sight should have disgusted you, caused you to gasp or try to squirm away from him. But you didn’t move, barely so much as blinked. Spencer was surprised by your calmness and decided to test the waters.

He shuffled a little closer to you and raised his right hand towards your throat. He saw you swallow deeply as his hand ghosted across the thin flesh of your neck which bore bruises from the last time he’d wrapped his hand around your throat.

You kept your eyes locked on his as he pressed his palm against your windpipe. You felt the tacky blood on your skin as he wrapped his fingers around your throat. But you showed no signs of intimidation. He didn’t apply pressure, he held you limply, all the while keeping the eye contact strong. He tried to read your expression, to ascertain whether or not you were just putting on a brave face.

“Are you scared of me?” He decided to ask, keeping his hand in place on your neck.

“No,” you were quick to answer. “Should I be?”

“I have you tied to a bed and my hand around your throat while I’m covered in another man’s blood. You tell me.” He grinned wildly down at you.

“I’m not scared of you. I don’t think that you’d hurt me.”

“I wouldn’t.” His smile was hurriedly replaced by a frown. “I would never hurt you.”

“Then I have no reason to be scared. Untie me, Spence. I’m not going anywhere.”

“No.” He shook his head, removing his hand from your neck, you could feel the blood he’d left behind on your skin. “I can’t be sure you won’t run away and turn me in.”

“Spencer, you’re an excellent profiler. Look at me, you’ll see I’m not lying to you.”

You scrutinised you again, profiling you. But he quickly shook his head.

“I can’t trust my own mind anymore.”

“Yes, you can.” You tried to insist. “I gave up a lot to help you, how can I prove to you that I’m not going to betray you?”

His eyes wandered from your face for the first time, hungry eyes raking up and down your body that lay open to him on the bed. You wore a thin oversized t-shirt which made it painfully obvious to him that you didn’t wear a bra underneath. On the bottom you had on a small pair of bike shorts which allowed him a perfect view of your thighs.

You felt a little hot under his gaze, swallowing hard as he regarded you with dark eyes. His pupils were blown out wide and you felt a heat spread between your legs.

He raised his hand again, this time hovering it over your thigh. You found his gaze, trying to tell him with your eyes that you weren’t scared of him touching you. At that moment it was all you wanted. When he saw no signs of you wanting him to stop, he slowly lowered his hand until his palm was pressing against your thigh. He didn’t miss the way you seemed to relax at his touch.

Once again you felt the sticky substance transfer from Spencer’s hand to your skin and there was something so unbelievably sensual about it. He spread his fingers across your flesh, kneading his fingers into your thigh muscle and an involuntary gasp left your lips.

Spencer’s eyes darkened and his lip tugged up into a smirk. Your lips were parted and you were breathing heavily. He dared move his hand higher, leaving a trail of blood behind in his wake, until his fingers skimmed the hem of your shorts.

He’d wanted you for so long, it had been all he’d thought of as of late. And now it was possible he might actually get his wish.

You gasped again, unable to stop from pressing your thighs together as a wave of pleasure wracked your body. Spencer didn’t miss it, and his smirk only grew. It was hard to fake those little, unconditioned responses.

When he removed his hand from your leg you whimpered slightly, making Spencer chuckle. His fingertips came to toy with the bottom of your shirt, fingering the fabric and turning it red. He waited for you to tell him to stop but you didn’t. You stayed quiet and kept eye contact with him, hoping your expression told him what your words couldn’t.

When you didn’t offer up any resistance, he moved his hand beneath your shirt and brushed his palm over the planes of your stomach, across your ribcage and finally he moved to cup one of your breasts. Your nipple hardened almost instantly under his hand and he flicked it a few times with his finger, watching intently the way his hand moved beneath your shirt.

You pressed your thighs together again and whined at the way in which it seemed to be so easy for him to turn you on. You let your eyes flick down to his crotch, wondering if you had the same effect on him. You felt heady when your eyes landed on the obvious tenting in his jeans.

When he removed his hand from under your t-shirt you whined again, and Spencer chuckled darkly, adjusting himself a little on the bed.

“Who knew you were such a little deviant, Y/N.”

“We all have a dark side, Spencer.” You rolled your lip between your teeth.

“You like that I killed those men.” He laughed, reaching behind himself and unsheathing the blade tucked in the back of his jeans.

He held it up to the light, blood staining the otherwise shiny metal. He surveyed you again, trying to detect any little hint of fear but saw none.

“Tell me about him.” You nodded at the blade.

“He was a serial rapist.” Spencer spat. “He raped at least nine women but the cops couldn’t prove it. I would have been almost less annoyed had he killed them after, but he left them alive and they have to look in the mirror everyday and remember what he did to them.”

“But he’s not going to be able to do it again.” You shrugged. “You made sure of that.”

“I did.” He nodded, almost proudly. “He begged me not to do it. He cried as I took my blade to his throat. But I couldn’t let him hurt anyone else.”

“One less evil in the world.” You agreed with him.

A part of you wished you were just acting, playing along with Spencer so as to ensure your own freedom. But in a weird way, you understood why he’d done what he had. He’d taken things into his own hands, he’d rid the world of a sick and twisted individual. A part of you even admired him for doing so.

“Do you trust me?” He suddenly asked you.

“I do.” You nodded. “Completely.”

Spencer leant closer to you, moving the knife until it was on your throat where his hand had been not so long ago. He pressed the tip of the blade against your skin, just enough for you to feel a little pressure but not so much that he would pierce the skin. And you didn’t even flinch because you weren’t lying, you did trust him. He could have gotten his own back on you for stabbing him but somehow you knew he wouldn’t.

“I could so easily slice your throat right now.” He frowned a little. “But you really aren’t scared, are you?”

“No, not even a little bit. You have no reason not to trust me, Spencer. Let me help you.” You begged him as he sat back and moved the blade away from your neck.

He ran it down the centre of your torso gently, coming to a stop somewhere around your belly button. With his free hand he bunched your t-shirt up before piercing the fabric with the knife. He dragged it upwards, creating a hole in the shirt of a few inches. Then he suddenly dropped the blade on the floor and brought his now free hand up to your shirt and using the hole he’d created, ripped the offending piece of material in half in one swift move.

You gasped at the sound of the fabric tearing and the cool air hitting your bare skin. He pulled it apart completely, tugging the two pieces of your t-shirt to your biceps. He hissed at your exposed chest, a trail of blood from your stomach and his bloody handprint across your breast.

“I marked you.” He smiled, staring at your chest wildly.

“And I’d let you do it again.” You told him and he believed you.

He chuckled as he got to his feet, making you whine which made him laugh more. Now he was standing, his erection was even more noticeable, straining at the front of his jeans.

He kept his eyes on you as he dragged the zipper of his hoody down and pulled it apart, revealing the bloodstained white tee he wore underneath.

You gasped loudly, but it wasn’t in fear. He watched you squeeze your thighs together as he rid himself of the hoody.

“Who knew you’d been this tantalised by blood?” He cocked an eyebrow at you. “I’ll be right back, princess.”

“What? Where are you going?” You simpered, wriggling on the bed.

“I need to get myself cleaned up. I can’t very well put these hands between those delicious legs covered in someone else’s blood. That would just be foolish.”

A moan erupted from your lungs and you saw the sound made Spencer stumble on his feet. You tugged at your restraints, desperate to be able to touch him.

“Let me help you?” You begged him. “Please, please let me help.”

Spencer rolled his bottom lip between his teeth in contemplation. You didn’t think there was any way he would bow to your wishes, he was clearly enjoying this exertion of power. So you were surprised to say the least when he sighed and stepped closer to the bed.

He leant over you, and for a moment you thought he might kiss you. His breath fanned over your face and he chuckled at the way in which it made you tremble. His hands came to rest on your biceps but didn’t stay there long before they were gliding up your forearms towards the tie knotted at your wrists. He toyed with the restraint, looking you dead in the eyes.

“If you double cross me again, I will have to kill you, you understand that right? I don’t want to, it’s the last thing I ever want to do. But it’s a dog eat dog world and if I have to, I will.”

“I understand.” You nodded and he smiled at you. You were only mildly self-conscious at the fact your chest was still exposed.

You felt his deft fingers make quick work of the tie and soon it was loose enough for you to slip your hands out. Your arms were dead weight and fell heavily to the bed, how long you’d been tied up like that was anybody's guess. How you hadn’t woken up when he’d done it was a mystery too.

Spencer left the other end of the makeshift restraint tied to the head board, just in case. He took hold of one of your hands, more claret transferring between the two of you, and helped you into a sitting position on the bed.

Your hands tingled with pins and needles as you allowed Spencer to guide you to your feet. He kept hold of your hand and led you wordlessly towards the motel bathroom. He nudged the door open with his hip and tugged you inside.

When he let go of your hand, you let the torn pieces of your shirt fall off of your arms and onto the floor. Spencer eyed you up and down, at the blood he’d marked your flesh with and smiled to himself. He took a step closer and took hold of your hands again, placing them at the hem of his t-shirt, his eyes telling you all you needed to know.

Your hands were trembling a little as you slowly started peeling the fabric upwards, your knuckles brushing lightly against his ribcage. He hissed slightly at your featherlight touch and lifted his arms to enable you to pull the t-shirt over his head.

You quickly dropped it to the floor and looked at him, his alabaster skin stained with the blood that had seeped through his shirt. The wound you’d inflicted upon him was still dressed but was now smeared with blood, you could only assume it wasn’t his own. At least you hoped it wasn’t. He smiled at you and stepped dangerously closer.

“We match.” He teased, one hand snaking around you and gripping the back of your neck tightly. “How about my pants, princess?”

As quickly as he was touching you, he removed his hand again and stepped back, motioning towards the button of his jeans he was still straining against.

You swallowed and with your hands still shaking, you reached for the button. Your hand ghosted over his erection and he gasped deeply, bucking his hips a little. You fumbled with the button a little due to your nerves but once you popped it open, you helped him shimmy the jeans down his legs.

He kicked them off, leaving him in the most sinfully tight pair of black boxers that barely contained his throbbing length. You subconsciously pressed your thighs together again but he must have noticed it because he smirked at you.

While you were busy staring at him, wondering what he would feel like inside of you, he reached behind himself and you were a little startled when the shower started spitting out water. He chuckled as you jumped slightly at the sound and took a few steps away from you, towards the shower. He put his hands on his hips, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of his boxers.

“I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours?” He winked at you and you were sure you almost collapsed.

It only occurred to you then that this was not the Doctor Spencer Reid you’d come to know in your time at the BAU. The Doctor Reid you’d known had been shy, socially awkward and a little nerdy. This man in front of you sure looked like him, but the confidence he exuded was so new to you. But god if it wasn’t the sexiest thing in the whole world.

You found yourself nodding dumbly, mirroring his stance and hooking your own fingers in the waistband of your shorts. You made eye contact and simultaneously you both started lowering your final items of clothing.

For some reason you felt too embarrassed to look down, like it was an invasion of his privacy so you kept your eyes on his face. Out of politeness he did the same.

It wasn’t as though you hadn’t already seen enough, the night in the Chapmanville Inn still fresh in your mind and the silhouette of Spencer’s body through the shower curtain carved into your memory. But this was different.

He reached for your hand once more and tugged you closer, stepping back into the shower cubicle and pulling you inside with him. He moved under the shower head and took hold of your other hand, bringing them both up to his chest. You opened them and placed your palms flush on his blood stained skin. You watched as the water started to cleanse him, the blood beginning to be washed away.

The blood mixed with the water and rolled down his body, pooling in the drain. You noticed your hands starting to shed the claret too. Spencer brought his still stained hands up to tentatively cup your breasts. Noticing the way you whimpered at his touch, he dared to start massaging them beneath deft hands, cleaning the blood from your skin.

“It’ll be a shame to wash this away.” He smirked dangerously at you, continuing to clean you of the blood he’d bestowed upon you.

You desperately wanted to move your hands down his body, feel every inch of him but you were too afraid. Clearly he was the one in control here and you didn’t want to push your luck in case this ended in a cloud of smoke.

Suddenly he tore his hands away from you and you couldn’t help but whine at the lack of contact. Spencer chuckled to himself, reaching for the wall mounted shower gel dispenser and depositing some into one hand.

He lathered the soap between his hands, ridding himself of the blood that had once stained him before using the remnants to return to your chest and clean you properly.

Following his lead you reached past him for the dispenser, all the while he was rubbing your breasts and you thought you might explode. You rubbed the soap in your hands before returning the favour and starting to clean his chest.

He closed his eyes as the water fell around him, lost in the way your hands felt against his skin. It had been a long time since he’d been touched in such a way and it was making him harder than imaginable. As much as he enjoyed this, it wasn’t enough.

He started moving you backwards, still rubbing your breasts as he did so, until your back was against the glass shower partition. His hands wandered for the first time from your breasts down to your hips and you wanted to feel his body against you but he kept his distance.

He clutched your hips desperately in his hands, fingers digging into your flesh and would probably leave yet more bruises. He edged his face closer to you, leaving space between your bodies and his lips ghosted over the shell of your ear.

“Do you want this?” He breathed, for the first time sounding so unsure.

“How can you even ask me that?” You replied, snaking your arms around his neck.

“If we do this…” he pressed his lips against your ear, breathing into your skin. “There’s no going back for me. If we do this, you belong to me.”

A whine left your lips and your body trembled at his words. It was the only thing you wanted.

“Spencer,” you whispered back, running your nails along the base of his neck in his wet hair. “I already belong to you.”

He hissed and suddenly his body jerked forward, his hips slamming against you and finally allowing you to feel his hard cock pressing against you.

One hand moved from your hip to your jaw and held it firmly in his hand, drawing you in quickly and crushing your lips together.

You felt all the air leave your lungs when he kissed you, as though you’d been leading up to this moment your whole life. You melted into him, throwing caution to the wind and letting this man own you entirely.

He parted your lips and plunged his tongue inside your mouth, letting go of your jaw and taking purchase on your hip again. He grinded roughly against you, making you moan. You could tell he was big, and all you wanted was to feel him inside of you.

He kissed you fiercely, holding you steady between his body and the partition. Your body felt simultaneously like it was on fire and like you were floating. He rendered you utterly dumb with one kiss.

Suddenly he tore his lips away from you but before you could question it he was turning you around and pushing your front up against the glass. His body caged you in from behind, cock pressing against your ass cheek.

His lips latched against your neck, sucking the wet skin and teasing it with his teeth. You felt his hand start to roam from your hip, across your stomach and steadily lower.

He forced your legs apart with his strong hand before one nimble digit pressed against your clit. You gasped, rolling your ass back against his cock. He smirked into your neck, continuing to suck on your flesh.

He started moving his finger, rubbing your bundle of nerves in the most perfect way you thought it should be illegal. Your legs trembled almost instantly and if he was to move you would surely fall over.

You pressed one hand against the glass to help keep you up right while your other snaked behind you, between your bodies. You found his shaft and wrapped around the base of it, causing him to buck against you and bite down on your neck.

You started to stroke him, panting heavily against the glass partition while he continued his work between your legs. He really knew what he was doing and you were positive you would reach your orgasm in no time.

“Fuck,” he groaned against your skin as you let your hand moved up and down around him. “It’s been so long since someone touched me like that.”

His confession startled you a little but the pleasure he was inflicting on you was clouding your brain and you couldn’t dwell on it too much. His free hand moved to your chest and he pinched your nipple hard between his fingers.

Your legs buckled and he steadied you with the weight of his body. He was moaning into your neck, rocking back and forth behind you.

When he pulled back again, leaving you feeling empty and immediately touch starved, you whined as your hand fell to your side. You heard him chuckle before the shower shut off and you slowly turned to face him.

You finally took all of him in, his wet hair hanging down almost to his shoulders, beads of water rolling over his pale skin. His dressing was barely hanging on, desperately trying to cling to his skin for dear life. His cock stood to attention against his belly and your knees wobbled at the sight. Clearly he noticed as he laughed again.

“Don’t worry, princess. I’m not done with you yet.” He stepped out of the shower, curling his finger in a motion for you to follow him. Dumbly you did, scurrying after him back into the bedroom.

He grabbed you by your wrist and threw you to the bed, the sheets immediately clinging to your wet body. Your legs hung over the side of the mattress but before you could move them onto the bed, Spencer was dropping to his knees on the floor next to you.

He gripped your thighs roughly in his large hands and spread your legs, bowing his head between them. He kept eye contact with you as his tongue ran between your folds before settling on your clit.

You howled at the sensation, hands flying to his hair and tangling in the locks. He hadn’t shaved since the two of you had fled DC and his rough stubble was scratchy but the friction it created was out of this world.

He made the most delicious sounds as he ravenously ate you out. You were rocking your hips against his face, pulling his hair at the roots and moaning so loud the thin motel walls shook. When he suddenly plunged two fingers inside of you, your eyes rolled back in your head and you tugged his hair so hard it made him yelp.

He fingered you roughly, pounding his fingers inside your fluttering pussy while flicking your bud expertly with his tongue.

He was rutting against the side of the bed, trying to ease some tension in his throbbing cock. He wanted to give you all the pleasure in the world, his own way of thanking you for everything you’d done for him, but he was more than desperate to be inside of you.

Your walls were clenching around his fingers and he knew you were close but he wanted to feel your orgasm around his shaft. He buried his face between your legs, needing more.

“Are you close, princess?” He whispered into your core.

“Y-yes.” You stuttered. “S-so close.”

“Good.” He suddenly withdrew his fingers and sat back on his haunches.

You whined as your hands fell from his hair and looked at him in frustration.

“W-why’d you stop?” You sounded pathetic and you knew it.

Spencer smirked at you, his mouth and chin slick with your arousal. He got to his feet, looming over you.

“Because I want you to come on my cock, pretty girl.” With that he took you by the hips again and flipped you onto your front on the mattress.

He manoeuvred your legs onto the bed and you felt the weight shift beneath you as he knelt behind you. He tugged you onto your hands and knees and before you could even comprehend what was happening, he roughly thrust inside of you.

You yelped, his firm grip on your hips the only thing holding you up. He felt even bigger than he looked, filling you up in a way you’d never been before. He gasped loudly at the way in which he felt you stretch around him.

He was soon thrusting in and out of you, his hips slamming against your ass each time. You gripped the bed sheets in your hands, head falling to your chest while he fucked you without remorse.

He was moaning so deeply you felt it vibrate through you. His blunt fingernails dug into your hips and you swore you could already feel bruises forming. He was panting so heavily he sounded like he’d run a marathon but he didn’t slow down.

He continued to pound into you, bringing you closer to your orgasm every second. By the time it washed over you, your whole body convulsed, pussy clenching around his cock, causing him to hold you even tighter.

You moaned incoherently, possibly saying his name, you weren’t sure. Your head was a mess and your arms barely kept you upright anymore.

“Fuck, that’s it princess. Fuck, feels so good when you come for me.” His thrusts started to grow lazy and you knew he was close too.

Truthfully he’d been close since he’d first tasted you and he had no idea how he’d been able to last this long. But the feeling of you clenching around him as you came was too much and it finally pushed him over the edge.

With one last thrust he let himself fall over the edge, spilling his load inside of you, holding onto your hips for dear life. He rocked back and forth as he rode out his orgasm but was soon pulling out.

As soon as he let go of you, you crumbled to the bed, panting against the lumpy motel pillow. Spencer fell down next to you and gently wiped your hair back from your eyes.

You blinked sleepily, a dreamy smile on your lips as you looked at him. You’d always thought he was stunning, but in this post-coital bliss you didn’t think anyone had ever been so beautiful.

His puffy lips were parted as he tried to catch his breath, his intoxicating hazel eyes were hooded with sleep. His stubble still glistened a little from your arousal and his wet hair created a halo around his head.

Am I in love with him? You thought as you stared at him. Or am I in love with the way he made me feel?

Either way, you knew you shouldn’t have any feelings towards him. He was a murderer, pure and simple. Sure those men deserved it but it didn’t make what he’d done ok. But yet you still found yourself not just understanding it, but condoning it. And you knew as you laid there that you’d follow him to the ends of the earth, you’d be by his side until the bitter end.

Could it be Stockholm Syndrome, or did you really have feelings for Spencer? Away from this situation, under normal circumstances, would this have still happened?

All you knew for sure was that you were dancing with the devil and only he knew all the moves. But you were happy to let him lead.

Life's too short to be dancing with the devil.

You best sleep with a blanket and a shovel,

'Cause life's too short to be dancing with the devil.

Where am I? My hands are tied.

Turn on the lights, and I see you standing,

Over me, it's hard to breathe.

I can't believe that you'd do this to me.

Years of us building the trust up,

No love was ever enough.

I'm foolish to think we were friends,

It's funny how it ends.

You know, when times get tough you always give up,

I know your smoking gun's the tip of your tongue.

You take your aim to point the blame,

It's time we let it go, so save your lies.

Behind those eyes you're a devil in disguise.

Life's too short to be dancing with the devil.

You best sleep with a blanket and a shovel,

'Cause life's too short to be dancing with the devil.

Now it's time to pay the price,

No playing nice when you live so selfish.

Have a drink and make a scene,

Embarrass me 'cause you're lost and hopeless.

Years of us building the trust up,

No love was ever enough.

I'm foolish to think we were friends,

It's funny how it ends.

And you know, when times get tough you always give up,

I know your smoking gun's the tip of your tongue.

You take your aim to point the blame,

It's time you let it go, so save your lies.

Behind those eyes you're a devil in disguise.

Life's too short to be dancing with the devil.

You best sleep with a blanket and a shovel,

'Cause life's too short to be dancing with the devil.

You try to act as if you're saving me,

But you wouldn't cut the rope if it was hanging me.

I'm sick of people saying what you sow you reap,

'Cause I've been counting down the minutes of that, so to speak.

Think of all the hours and hours of grind,

That would it turned into sour findings.

As I wonder if our resigning is becoming the silver lining,

But I'm not a coward, I'm fighting.

'Cause if they're the meat, then I'm biting

Go ahead ignoring and smiling,

'Cause I'm climbing 'till I let you know.

When times get tough you always give up,

I know your smoking gun's the tip of your tongue.

You take your aim to point the blame,

It's time you let it go, so save your lies.

Behind those eyes, yeah.

You know, when times get tough you always give up,

I know your smoking gun's the tip of your tongue.

You take your aim to point the blame,

It's time you let it go, so save your lies.

Behind those eyes you're a devil in disguise.

Life's too short to be dancing with the devil.

You best sleep with a blanket and a shovel,

'Cause life's too short to be dancing with the devil.

@andiebeaword @dreatine @dirtytissuebox @thebloomingeagle @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @bubblebuttwade @jay-2s-world

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #unsub! spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem! reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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msmoony7 · 10 months ago

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hey!! can you please do a fic with calum hood, maybe enemies to lovers and reader is the bands photographer or something like that (it’s okay if you don’t want to🫶🏼🫶🏼)

Love your work!!

note: hope u like it! I haven't written for 5sos yet AND i’ve never written enemies to lovers so i hope it’s good and enemy-y angsty enough. also pretend the first stop was LA and that the tour was six weeks idk how long it actually was this is just what i imagined for my little fanon fic LMAO. I kinda left this on a cliffhanger. Maybe part 2 soon??

calum hood x reader

word count: 1.84k

You wake up to the sun peeking through the cracks in your bedroom curtains. Although the weather on this day is perfect, your mood was anything but, and you wake up feeling sour. Today, you are presented with the difficult task of joining the band 5 Seconds of Summer as their tour photographer. You’ve been photographing artists for years now and it has truly become your passion. Whether it’s following an artist on your, or taking album art, you are living your dream with every picture you take.

That’s not where the difficulty lies. You know that you’re capable of doing your job and doing it well. The difficulty lies within the band. The name of that difficulty being the band’s bassist, Calum Hood. By now, you have a long history with the band. They first invited you to join them on the Take My Hand tour last year. You quickly became good friends with Luke, Ashton, and Michael. But for some reason, Calum just could not stand to be near you. Many days and nights were spent bickering between the two of you. Arguments would come up, about your creative direction and other bullshit he brought up, leaving you no choice to fight back, creating a lasting vendetta between the pair of you.

Of course, he made your job difficult as well. When photographing him onstage, he would mess with you and your work. Sometimes getting up in front of the camera and in your face, sometimes not letting you take any photos of him at all. And once offstage, he wouldn’t even look in your direction. Wouldn’t even address you. Despite this, your work speaks for itself and you received a message from Luke inviting you to join them again on this year's tour, The 5sos Show.

It’s been weeks since you got the tour invitation, and months since you’ve last seen the band. All the time in the world couldn’t prepare you for six weeks on the road with Calum Hood. What he had against you, you may never know. What you do know is that as long as he presents this dislike towards you, you will be doing the same right back at him.

Was putting yourself through all this stress worth it? You ponder for a moment when you wake up, but ultimately decide you made the right choice. You are set to meet up with the band and crew this evening before you set out on the road together, marking the start of the long six weeks ahead. You put on some music and start packing your suitcase.

After a while, you’re happy with everything in your suitcase and zip it up. Living out of a suitcase was difficult, but you’ve had prior experience so you know the do’s and don'ts of packing. You pack your backpack, carry on, and your camera supplies and before you know it, the day is behind you and it’s time to converge with the band. You call an uber to take you to the address Luke gave you and you’re on your way.

Traffic isn’t too bad, so you make it to the address quicker than you would have liked. The crew is already there, but the band is nowhere to be seen. You help yourself onto the bus and begin putting your things in your designated area. You feel the bus shift as someone steps on. Before you can turn around, you can already tell who is walking up behind you.

“Well, what do we have here?” you hear a sarcastic voice say behind you. You turn around and lock eyes with the bassist. He’s wearing grey sweatpants and a green 5sos sweatshirt. He looks adorable and cozy, and you hate him for being so gorgeous and so annoying all at the same time.

“Not even the first day of the tour and we’re already fighting, are we?” you spit back at him.

“Seems that way,” he replies before scurrying off to whatever hole he’s gonna bury himself in until he needs to be found again.

The rest of the boys slowly scatter onto the bus, and your meetings with them go better than yours with Calum. Everyone picks out their bunks and once everyone is settled onto the bus, the driver begins driving to the first stop on the road and you allow yourself to fall asleep for the night.

You wake up to the sound of fighting. It takes you a few seconds to shake off your grogginess before you hear two voices shouting back and forth at each other from the other end of the bus.

“You can’t keep acting like this!” you can hear Luke yell.

“Sure I can! I can't stand her being here and I’m not going to pretend I do.”

“Whatever, man. Do what you want, I give up. Just don’t come complaining when it comes to bite you in the ass.”

You can hear them shuffling around the bus as you stay hidden behind your curtain. Although your hatred for Calum was mutual, you couldn’t help but let a tear fall down your cheek as you lay in your bunk, thinking about everything you’ve had to endure from him in the past and will have to in the future on this tour. You are tired of feeling like this. Feeling beat down by him and his words, his actions. Now, you’re determined to get to the bottom of his hatred for you. You wipe away your tears, jump out of bed, and get ready for the day.

Tonight is the first night of the tour at The Kia Forum in Los Angeles. You’re excited. After all, you do love your job. You decide that the best way to get through the tour is to ignore Calum and his antics.

The day goes by quickly. The opening band is onstage and you’ve successfully avoided Calum the entire day. You grab all your camera equipment so you have it ready to go when the boys go onstage.

Calum sneaks up behind you, bass in hand. “Where’ve you been, y/n? Haven’t seen you all day, it’s almost like you’re ignoring me. You wouldn’t do that though, would you?”

“For the love of god, fuck off. Get away from me.” You huff at him while grabbing your camera and walking towards the side stage. The lights go off and he shoots you a wink before walking onstage. You push all this out of your head and get in front of the stage and start taking photos of the boys.

The night goes as well as you could have expected given your circumstances. You get some good photos of the boys. Calum was his usual self. This time around, he decided that whenever you got too close to him, he would turn around, making sure that you don’t get photos of his face or his instrument. Despite this, you do get some good photos of him. In all honesty, you think this is some of your best work. Calum looks really good. Even if you can’t see his face.

The boys all run offstage after the encore, high off of the energy from the gig. You shoot them a congratulations and you can see Calum heading in the opposite direction of you. Typical, you think.

The next stop of the tour wasn’t for another two days, so the boys are having a party to celebrate the tour kicking off. You follow Luke, Ashton, and Michael and see that the party is already in motion. Calum’s already at the bar grabbing a drink and your body moves before you can think and all of the sudden, you’re sitting next to him.

“What do you want,” he mutters sharply, not even looking up from his drink.

“How’d you know it was me?”

“Vodka cran,” he says to the bartender and nods at you. “I swear, whenever you get within ten feet of me I can feel my blood pressure rising,” he says in defeat as he gets up from his seat.

“Where’re you going? I thought we were finally getting along.”

“Back to the bus before I say something I’ll regret.”

And with that, he disappears out the door, leaving you confused as the bartender hands you your drink.

“I don’t know what his issue is,” you confess to Luke once you find him later that night. An hour or two has passed since you last saw Calum and you’re feeling tipsy from the alcohol.

“I wish I could tell you, y/n. I really wish I could. But we have no idea why he’s like this. We all love you and we love your work, I don’t know why he has it out for you.”

“Yeah, I don’t know. If I’m honest, I’m getting to my breaking point. I don’t think I can handle it anymore.”

“Want us to talk to him?” Luke says with concern written on his face. You can tell him and the other boys genuinely do care about you. It makes you feel good knowing that you have people to fall back on in this drama.

“Thanks, but I think I’m actually gonna go speak to him now. I’m just tired of it and I need answers now.”

“Well, good luck. Let us know how it goes.”

You say bye to everyone at the party and you leave to find Calum and get some long awaited answers for yourself. The walk to the bus is not far and as you’re approaching, you see Calum sitting on a bench outside, smoking a cigarette and looking up at the sky. He hears your footsteps on the ground and groans when he realizes it’s you.

“Following me now, are you?”

“Oh shut up, will you?” you say as you steal the cigarette from his hand, taking a drag before handing it back to him. “You’re an ass, you do know that, right?”

“What do you think, y/n.”

“I wanna know why.”

“Why what?”

“What do you think, Calum? You’ve never liked me. I’ve done nothing wrong. I literally can’t do this anymore, I don’t know what to do!”

He sits and thinks for a minute, leaving the two of you in silence. You stare at him as he stares at the ground ahead of him, waiting for a response. A minute goes by, then two. No response.

“Are you gonna answer me?” you yell. Still, no response. “Whatever, I’m done. Bye.” You say as you get up. You start walking in the direction of the tour bus when you feel him grab your arm and turn you around. Before you realize what’s going on, his lips crash into yours. At first, you don’t know what to do and you stand there frozen. He pulls away and just stares at you, and you stare right back.

“That an answer enough for you?” he says to you.

“Oh will you just shut up?” you say as you cusp his cheeks, pulling him towards you once more.

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leafsbabe · 1 year ago

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sundress season with Sidney

- it wouldn’t be a lie to say you had been waiting for him to try something

- but you’d never suspect Sid to start anything while in public

- Sidney was a wonderful lover but he wasn’t really on the kinky side

- so when his hand came to rest on your thigh during a family barbecue at the lake house you didn’t even question it

- his large warm hand fit nicely in the space left by the thigh slit of your dress and helped against the slight chill brought on by the setting sun

- it didn’t seem like he was planning something at all, too busy talking to Nate about a trade that had been announced a few hours prior

- that was until you felt his hand move higher and higher up your thigh, under your dress, and dangerously close to where you were growing hotter every second

- when his hand finally stopped he was close enough that all he would need to do to feel how wet you were getting for him was spread his fingers a little bit

- Sidney seemed so unaffected, with only a little smile on his full lips as he talked to his friend and nothing more

- you on the other hand were very affected

- and then he squeezed your thigh and a shudder ran through you

- naturally his mother noticed

- what she didn't notice from where she was sitting was Sid’s hand and you truly hoped nobody else is either

- instead she asked you if you were cold, all concerned and motherly

- it felt wrong, especially with what her son was doing to you, but you lied to her anyways, just to have an explanation and a chance to get up

- except when you stood up Sid followed, his hand finding the small of your back as if he didn’t almost start something surrounded by his family an friends

- it's almost sweet when he offers to give you one of his sweatshirts since they’re larger and comfier, and to get the fire pit started for some warmth

- he looks like nothing if not a considerate boyfriend as he leads you into the house

- what the others didn't see was the way Sidney crowded you against the nearest wall once you were out of eyesight

- the sudden movement surprised you, head falling back and Sidney taking his chance, head dipping down to connect his lips to your neck before you had the chance to think

- you loved seeing Sid so passionate that he couldn’t hold back but as his hands, both this time, made their way up your legs and gripped your hip under the soft fabric something brought you back to reality

- you held onto his curls, fully intending to pull his head away from your neck when he pressed closer, showing you that he wasn’t unaffected by you either

- instead of fully pulling away his mouth found the tops of your breasts where they were spilling out from the neckline of your sundress

- you wanted to give in

- you wanted to give in so badly

- to let yourself be dragged off into the bedroom or even be taken against the very wall you were being held against by this daring version of Sid but people would get suspicious

- by the time you had made up your mind he was already kneeling in front of you, looking up at you through his dark lashes but you didn’t let yourself give in to the desire

- you tugged on his curls asking him to get up but Sid had other plans

- your underwear, small and lacy and meant for him to discover long after the dinner as a tease before bed, was halfway down your legs before you noticed and off before you could protest

- you watched as he bundled the little piece of fabric up before shoving it into the front pocket of his pants

- the dress you were wearing wasn't short, falling well below the knee with the exception of the thigh slit, perfectly appropriate for a backyard barbecue with your boyfriend’s family but also ideal to conceal your lack of panties

- Sid acted casual, getting up and going into the bedroom by himself only to return moments later with a well loved zip-up hoodie

- he held it up and helped you slip it over your head without unzipping it, laughing when the hood fell into your face

- the walk back to the table felt strange without anything beneath your dress but you tried your hardest not to let it show

- dinner was mostly over anyways so you helped clear the table and stack the dishwasher before heading out again

- the guests that decided to stay sat around the fire the boys had started in the fire pit but instead of pulling up a chair and joining them you walked over to Sid and let yourself fall into his lap

- if he wanted to play dirty fine, but you wouldn’t just take it

- his hands didn't find their way under your dress again but you could tell he wasn't unaffected by your decision

- every time you moved you could feel him, hard and pressed against you and you had to hold back a giggle every time

- as it got later you took mercy on him and changed the way you were sitting to allow him to calm down so he wouldn't see off your company with a hard on

- surprisingly Sidney wasn't on you as soon as everybody was gone

- but the second you were inside you found yourself back against the wall with Sidney on the floor infront of you

- only this time you wouldn't push him away

#sidney crosby #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #nhl imagine #hockey player #hockey smut #sidney crosby imagine #sidney crosby headcanon #sidney crosby smut

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tarefaantf · 1 year ago

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#hoodies for women #oversized hoodie #black hoodie womens #womens oversized sweatshirt #women's hooded sweatshirts #ladies hoodies #womens zip up hoodies #printed hoodies for women

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louisupdates · 3 months ago

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Louis Tomlinson expands the 28 clothing universe with a football-inspired collection

The Doncaster-born singer, Louis Tomlinson, continues to expand his horizons beyond music with a sophisticated football-inspired collection.

POR: ALEJANDRO CARRILLO JULY 29, 2024

Louis Tomlinson’s clothing brand, 28 Clothing, presents a new collection under the theme “Home and Away”, featuring a captivating color palette that includes enchanting lavender hues. The brand name is a tribute to Louis’ favorite number, 28, which he also has tattooed on his hand.

Furthermore, it nods to his hometown, Doncaster, by including a flower inspired by the White Rose of York in the logo, a symbol widely used in the region, including Louis’ beloved Doncaster.

The brand stands out for its production of unisex clothing, demonstrating the versatility of each piece. The new collection includes turtlenecks, sweaters, football shirts, sweatpants, and socks.

Third round of success

This is the brand’s third collection, and like the previous ones, it is expected to sell out quickly. In fact, the Lavender Ecru sweater is already sold out. The previous collection, launched in December 2023, was also a resounding success.

The brand’s off-pitch style guide continues to evolve, featuring half-zip jerseys with digitized graphics and the characteristic “OFFICIAL PROGRAMME” inscription. Elegant short coats and checkered sportswear sets inspired by referees effortlessly transition from city to pitch, while turtlenecks with the number “28” arrive in light blue tones.

Color-blocked t-shirts, paneled skirts, and nylon pants complete the range, anticipating the next collection with floral embroidered MA1 bomber jackets arriving later this year.

Prices range from £15 to £120.

About 28

Louis Tomlinson, the former One Direction member, took a big step into the fashion world with the launch of his own clothing brand, 28. This name is not a random choice but a tribute to his squad number at Doncaster Rovers, his local football team since childhood.

Louis’ passion for football is evident in every piece of the 28 collection. The first line, inspired by vintage style, evokes the nostalgia of 70s and 80s football matches. Checkered tracksuits, t-shirts with the text “Official Programme”, and lightweight hooded sweatshirts are some of the garments that make up this summer collection.

28 is not just a clothing brand but a way to connect with a community. Louis seeks to create a space where football and fashion lovers can feel identified. The brand reflects his own personality, combining his casual and relaxed style with a touch of sophistication.

28 is a brand that represents Louis Tomlinson’s passion for football and fashion. With a design inspired by vintage style and a message of community, 28 has become one of the most popular clothing brands of the moment.

We hope you enjoyed this article about 28, If you did, please share it with others. You might also be interested in reading our article about Diesel, or browsing other reviews in our Luster English section.

#louis tomlinson #28 clothing #28 clothing drop 3 #louis press #6.8.2024

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polymorphiczooid · 7 months ago

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Marcille's frog suit is complete! This was my third-ever project using a sewing machine, so I've put a bit on my process for suit and staff-making below.

The Body: I drafted a pattern from a loose sweatshirt and sweatpants (somewhat following these tutorials: 1 2). From this I made a truly terrible mock-up from a fitted sheet -managing to sew the arms on inside out (twice, in two different ways). I also learned that the back panels need to be larger than the front panel, to accommodate the butt.

Originally, I wanted to make this out of raincoat material or pvc fabric to get that slimy frogskin look. I couldn't find any in the right color (or price), so I went with a cheap polyester satin. I think latex might have been also been a good alternative, but I've never worked with it before.

To get the white patterns on the frog, I just eyeballed where I thought the stripes should go on the paper pattern and cut it into smaller pieces (which I had to tape back together when I made the lining - this time out of blue bed sheet).

In the manga, there are large visible stitches in front. To mimic this, I decided to have the front lace with a thick cord. This meant I needed to install gromets on the front opening - but I was worried the hardware would tear right through the fragile satin. To prevent this, I reinforced the opening with a strip of denim encased in red cotton.

The smart thing to do would make the front zip up, and add a panel of fake lacing over the top. Since I didn't, 1) it takes a while to put on, and 2) the suit gapes open in places.

Frog Head: I spent a lot of time trying to figure this out - but in the end, I went with a very simple construction.

The hood consists of four main panels: the frog-shaped front and back panels of the outer hood, and two red panels for the inner hood. I 1) attached the white and orange parts of the outer panels 2) sewed the outerpanels together, and the inner hood panels together 3) cut a hole for my face out of the front outer panel, 4) sewed the edge of the inner hood panels to the face hole, 6) stuffed with batting from an old pillow, 6) added some extra fabric to close the hood under the chin.

I didn't quite get the shape right - the eyes should be rounder/ protrude less, and the cheeks/marcille's ears should sit lower down on the head. I think adding an extra panel to the back of the head would help it sit better. It's pretty 2D in profile, so my face sticks out of it too much.

Finally, using a stretch fabric for the inner hood (or a drawstring, that could tighten the hood itself) could make the hood fit snugly around the face. My hood was too loose, and I constantly had to adjust its position.

The frog eyes were also a bit tricky. The satin frayed to much to add large decorative stitching, so I had to sew little pieces of cord individually to the eyes. I probably should have made these smaller and more numerous...but my fingers were pretty sore form hand sewing.

The Shoes: I decided to make some boot covers for my docs, because making shoes from scratch is beyond my skill level.

I made a pattern by wrapping one shoe in a plastic back, then masking tape, and tracing out what looked like some important seam lines. I sewed all the pieces together except for top of the shoe, which I left open so 1) bagline the show cover, and 2) sew in the frog toes.

The toes themselves were sewn out of cotton and, stuffed with batting and old crochet squares. Then everything except the toe-tip was covered in orange satin. I did this since I was worried that the satin would not play nice with paint (foreshadowing). The toe-tips were then painted with a mix of black acryllic and liquid latex (for flexibility).

To keep the shoe covers on the shoes, I added some elastic around the bottom (salvaged from a fitted sheet). They also needed to close in the back - but I didn't have and velcro or zippers and I was running low on gromets. Instead, I made some loops out of scrap leather to run the lacing through. This looked cool but it was really hard to lace up myself!

Gloves: These were made the day before the convention, and are terribly slapdash.

Normally when you make gloves out of non-stretch fabric you need to add gussets to allow your hands bend, without the gloves being too loose. I did not do that. I just traced my hand on the fabric, and gave myself big finger pads and plenty of ease. They turned out pretty meh!

One issue was the finger pads themselves: it's hard to sew in a circle, so they were lumpy in shape. This lumpiness was enhanced by the way I stuffed them: just shoving stuffing into the finger tips. which is also where my fingers have to go. So every time I took the gloves on and off, the fingertips would get out of shape. I think hollowed foam balls would have been a better choice for the finger tips.

In addition, I painted the fingertips with the same latex/acrylic mixture I used on the toes. While it dried just fine on the cotton, the paint remained really sticky - so they picked up dust and peeled rather badly.

The gloves only had four fingers in the manga, so that's what I went with. But it was pretty uncomfortable with the pinky+ring finger sharing a home, and it didn't even look good.

Ambrosia (the staff): This was a real last-minute addition to the costume, done the night before the convention.

The base is a wooden dowel, and the hoop in a long tube of cotton fabric that I stuffed very firmly. I anted to make sure the hoop wouldn't fall off, so I "drilled" a hold near the tip of the staff (I.e. I shoved a screwdriver through the soft wood like an animal), and added grommets to each end of the stuffed cotton tube. I then created a tight mechanical join by running leftover cord though one grommet, then the dowel, and then the other grommet before tying it off.

Next, I wrapped a ton of different materials around the hoop and body of the staff: coord, twine, paper florist "rope", and paper-covered florist wire, etc. This was secured with an ungodly amount of hot glue. When possible, I tried to new strands under pre-existing ones for some extra security. I really like how wrapping the cord around the soft-hoop created the impression of vines growing around a living branch.

I painted the staff in three layers: base coat of red-brown, then a "wash" of watery black acrylic , and a dry brush of a lighter brown. I did not do a good job getting the paint evenly over the surface! From some angles the white cotton is still very visible, and I probably should have painted it before wrapping anything around it.

The sprout was made by sewing two leaf-shapes out of cotton, hot gluing it to a small snip of florist paper, and then hot gluing the stem to the hoop. Not bad for a rush job!

Overall: I think the feet and staff came out the best! People recognized me at the convention too, which is always the real test.

#dungeon meshi #marcille donato #frog suit #cosplay #tutorial #my art

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