#all i’m saying is the girl who waited and made countless drawings and dolls of the raggedy man will never forget his pinstriped pants | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

highdramas · 3 years

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forever is the sweetest con | b.b.

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝'𝐬 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

warnings: language and tfatws spoilers? not really but just in case

word count: 2167

summary: bucky makes a friend in his neighbor and her cat.

note: hiiiii so happy that so many people enjoyed the world's a little blurry! i am going to be writing multiple one shots, all connecting and showing little snapshots from the life of bucky and the reader <3 you don't have to read them in order, but reading all of them will help you better understand the relationship!

enjoy! <3

“stupid fucking thing.”

the swearing followed by incoherent irritable grumbling is like a dog whistle to bucky barnes. he’s standing outside of his apartment, lingering in the hallway, waiting to see if the person will speak again. to the surprise of no one, bucky hasn’t put much effort into getting to know his neighbors. he gives curt nods as he passes them in the hallway, tries his best to muster a smile when he gets caught at the mailbox beside someone else. he thinks that it looks more like a grimace than anything, but still-- it’s something.

“son of a bitch.”

the voice is feminine, and it is angry. he’s trying to discern if there is any immediate distress, and if there is-- maybe he can help. he’s pulled from his thoughts quickly as a door swings open and a large box is thrown out onto the doorstep. “fucking hell.”

the door doesn’t close. it stays open, still swinging, as if recoiling from the force in which it was tossed open. bucky could very easily continue on his way to his apartment, put away the few groceries he had purchased-- mostly pasta and cereal-- and spend his evening how he spends most evenings. fighting off sleep, because he knows what comes the moment consciousness fades and the darkness swallows him whole.

but he doesn’t.

instead, he dashes to his door and places the bag at the entryway, turning back on his heel. he fiddles with his gloves as he grows closer and closer to the door. and then, he sees you.

bucky can’t see much-- the door is only cracked. but what he can see almost makes him laugh. you’re huddled over what he assumes is a cat tower. well, a sorry excuse for a cat tower, really-- it’s half put together with miscellaneous pieces strewn all around you. you seem to be studying the instruction manual, flipping through it before you eventually toss it to the side. “kitty, i don’t know about all of this,” he hears you say.

again, there are multiple options here in terms of what bucky can do. he can leave now, pretend he never saw anything. he can check on you, and then… and then what? he doesn’t know.

he knocks.

bucky takes a step back as you scramble to your feet, pushing your hair back. you open the door and up at the stranger. “hi.” the word is short, and he can tell that you are not in a good mood. “if you’re going to bitch me out about the noise, i’m sorry. i bought a new cat tower for my cat, and it’s a bitch to put together. and i hate building anything, so i’m basically useless.” you suck in a breath and muster a smile. “so, like i said. sorry. i’ll be a better neighbor tomorrow.”

you go to close the door, and he doesn’t know what he’s doing when he blurts-- “wait-- no.” he shakes his head, clears his throat. “no, i wasn’t gonna bitch you out. i was--”

what was he going to say? what was he going to do?

“i was going to say i could help. if you want.” he clears his throat and rubs at his chin with a gloved hand. “i’m alright at putting furniture together.”

you linger in the doorway and look at him. though there are countless people who look at him every day, oftentimes, bucky doesn’t feel like he’s being recognized. sometimes he wonders if he is secretly invisible, drifting through this too-long life as a ghost. but the look you give him is piercing, and the smile that follows makes his heart stop in his chest.

“i’m not gonna turn down someone building this god forsaken thing for me,” you open the door wider. “come on in.”

bucky finishes his handiwork on the cat tower within thirty minutes, but something about you draws him in, and now it has been an hour and a half and he has not tired of your company.

you are very charming. that is the first thing that bucky notices about you. and it’s not just your personality, either. everything in your apartment seems to drip in you. there is no wall that is bare, there are different colored lights twinkling around each window, plants galore. it makes him almost feel embarrassed about the state of his own home. if you can even call it that.

it’s not a home. it’s a place where he fights off his demons and drinks cheap beer and pretends that he is okay, pretends that he is not alone, pretends that he doesn’t need sam or his therapist or anyone else in order to figure out how to live in the present.

but yours. yours is a home.

there’s a pang of jealousy, nestled deep in his heart. he doesn’t care if the thought is unreachable for someone like him, someone who has done the sort of things that he has done-- he wants it.

the thought will never reach the light of day, of course. no, it will stay buried in his belly, churning with the guilt and the anguish and the loneliness, too.

“you good over there?”

“huh?”

bucky looks up to see that you’re looking at him. your head is tilted and your mouth slightly agape, and the look… he can’t quite place it. it’s more confusion and less concern, and in a weird way, he likes that. “yeah. i’m fine.”

he’s confused by the way that the corner of your mouth turns up. “you’re a good liar,” is all that you quip before you push up off the ground, dusting off your leggings. “do you like pizza? i’m starving, and i would cook us something, but i don’t want to subject you to that. my mom says the only thing i should ever make is cereal, and even that’s pushing it. says i use too much milk.”

bucky laughs.

and it shocks him. it takes no thought at all to laugh at your words, your charm, the way that you carry yourself with such easy self deprecating humor. you make him laugh.

you, on the other hand, don’t think anything of it. you raise your eyebrows at him. “well? it’s pizza or we’re eating two big bowls of honey nut cheerios.”

“pizza is good.”

you bite down on your lip and you nod, fishing your phone from your back pocket. “great.”

bucky studies you as you order the food.

he’s learning that there are many things that he envies you for.

every muscle in your body is loose and relaxed. you don’t walk, you seem to float-- drifting in and out of rooms, brushing past him, as if you’re made up of nothing but air and stardust. you joke with the employee on the other line and then you hang up and look back to him. “i said we’d go and pick it up. it’s my favorite place, just down the street.”

“yeah, that sounds nice.”

bucky follows your lead. he’d never taken off his jacket, or his gloves, but you hadn’t made a comment about them. you scramble into clothing suitable for a new york winter and then grin at him, face slightly obscured by the massive scarf. “ready?”

he nods, and then you set out. you’re quiet for a few moments, before you say, “you’re bucky, right?”

there’s a silence that settles between you, as if some jig is now up. you glance over at him. “that’s not a bad thing,” you say softly. “or an insult.”

“yeah, i know.” his elbow knocks against yours lightly. “but, yeah. i am.”

you nod and offer your own name in return, and that is that. you don’t allude to anything else that you might or might not about him, his past, or the fact that he was used as a hydra weapon for a majority of his life, now thrust into a brand new century. no, all you do is say, “bucky’s a nice name.”

“thanks, doll.”

the pet name rolls off of his tongue so easily, like breathing. he stops for a moment, leaning into the urge to be embarrassed, but you don’t let him. “no one’s ever called me that before,” you say, brushing against his arm. “i like it.”

“it’s what all the guys used to call their girls.” he stops. “not that, you know--”

“yeah, i know,” you laugh. “i know what you meant.” you glance up at him again. “like i said, i like it.”

bucky swallows his nervousness and instead comes reassurance at your words. “i can keep callin’ you doll, if you really like it that much.”

playfulness. ease. comfort. things he has not felt in so long-- yori has tried to pull them out of him when it comes to women, but it has always felt forced, too fast, not right. this feels right.

“you make it sound like it’s such a chore!” you gape at him, but your voice is not malicious in the slightest. you are holding james buchanan barnes in the palm of your hand and you do not even know it.

“it’s not a chore,” bucky reassures. “trust me.”

“whatever you say,” you point to a small hole in the wall shop. “this is it.”

bucky holds the door open for you and you smile and wink as a thank you and god it sends his mind spinning, intoxicated by even the look that you give him. your name is performed like a symphony by every employee in the shop-- they all grin and wave, some make small talk. they eye bucky who stands a step behind you. but you turn and you place a hand on his forearm and even through all of the layers he swears that your touch burns. “this is my neighbor--” you look to him.

bucky clears his throats and he musters a smile, somewhere between his normal grimace and the smile that only seems to form in your presence. “james.”

they greet bucky with kindness and send the both of you on your way with the large pizza and a free liter of diet coke. “her favorite,” the owner says pointedly, winking to you. “we’re always trying to tell her to stop. maybe you can get her to knock the habit.”

“i don’t think anyone can get me to stop drinking diet coke,” you joke, looking at bucky with a level of fondness. “but he can certainly try.”

“i’ll give it a valiant effort,” bucky says and he tips his head to everyone before he opens the door for you once more. he holds the pizza and you hold the soda, tucked beneath your arm, and you make the trek back to your apartment in comforting quiet.

bucky learns that you don’t have a dining room table. you call it a waste of space, so you two sit in front of your coffee table on floor pillows, eating off mismatched plates and drinking the diet coke out of mugs from the thrift store you frequent.

the night is growing quieter, and you think that both you and bucky sense that it is coming to an end. you think you might be a bit addicted to being around him. he reminds you of the smell after it rains and black coffee, of laughter under neon lights and gentleness.

bucky is beginning to gather his things to leave when a meow turns both of your heads. your eyes light up. “hi baby,” you coo and the cat goes right to you and you scoop her up in your arms, presenting her to bucky. “this is katherine. or kitty, as i call her. she’s normally pretty scared of people.”

bucky hesitates, looking between you and the cat. finally, his hand reaches out and scratches kitty beneath the chin. she purrs almost instantly, nuzzling her face into his hand. you watch, somewhere in between shocked and amazed, as bucky interacts with her. “no, i swear, she hates people.” you pause. “wanna hold her?”

“oh, i don’t know…”

you raise your eyebrows and then he looks back at the cat, who gives a yap. it seems to say: please? he huffs and it fades into a smile and he holds his arms out. you set kitty into them and watch as she curls into him, rubbing the top of her head against his chin.

a girlish laugh bubbles from the deep pit of you belly and you clasp your hands together in front of you, watching with hearts in your eyes. the corner of his mouth turns up as he continues to pet the cat.

“bucky,” you say, putting a hand on your hip. “i hate to inform you, she’s never gonna let you go now.”

bucky looks up at you through his lashes. you, with your easy and calm demeanor, your loud laugh and your inability to build even the simplest of furniture.

“i think i’m okay with that.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes series #the world's a little blurry #bucky barnes fanfic

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360iris · 3 years

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The Invitation (Young!Lucius Malfoy x Reader)

Warnings: Smut, smut, smut! Alcohol comsumption. Finger fucking, overstimulation. Vaginal penatration. Daddy kink, subspace mention. Oral giving and receiving. Pure filth.

Word count: 3,469

Summary: Gryffindor!Reader gets invited to the Slytherin party of the year by her nemesis, Lucius Malfoy. Fun times follow.

A/N: @thotbutpurple mentioned my first piece not having enough smut. I hope I delivered! Quite proud of this one, worked on it for nearly a week.

Admittedly, Lucius had caught you under the perfect circumstances. Equal parts tipsy, horny and momentarily separated from your friends.

Slytherin house had decided to throw another one of their infamous party’s brimming with free booze and food catered by the school’s house elves.

Over the years, you, like countless other students, had heard the tales of their untamed nights. Admittance being through invite only; of which were handed out secretly and strategically.

Up until yesterday’s events, you had resigned yourself to the fate of never experiencing the grandeur of the self-proclaimed Slytherin Elite.

Friday, February 10th, 1978

Cutting off poor Frank Longbottom who was usually your lab partner in Potions, Lucius Malfoy, slips into the seat to your left with a low and harsh, “Find another station, you gormless Muppet.”

At this point, it was your natural reaction from hearing his voice, to let out a disgruntled sigh paired with an annoyed eye roll.

“What do I owe the displeasure of being in your cologne drenched presence today, Malfoy?” You jabbed, in a soft but clearly inconvenienced tone.

His gray irises narrowed as his thin lips quirked up to the side in a laidback smirk.

He enjoyed your pointed jabs. So much so that he would go out of his way, on the daily, to verbally prod you until you couldn’t take being in the same vicinity as him anymore. Your unpleasant interactions with the older boy usually ended with you storming off enraged to go rant to your friends about how much of an absolute cunt he was.

“I come bearing gifts, Y/N. One of which I firmly believe you won’t be able to resist accepting.” He drawled.

Inwardly, you had to admit, this piqued your curiosity however, you decided to mask it by turning away from his irritatingly, attractive visage and towards a piece of parchment Professor Slughorn distributes to the class.

“And this so-called gift is what exactly?” You questioned, careful to keep your eyes trained off of him. A task that was quickly shoved aside when a pale hand slid a single, silver metallic stamp into view. It was no bigger than a galleon. Finely embellished with the words: Salazar Slytherin’s Spectacular Soirée.

Your eyes bulged and mouth gaped as you couldn’t help but snap your head to look at his face once more. “Lucius!” You whispered in absolute surprise.

“That can’t be what I think it is.” You continue after a sharp inhale.

He tilts his head as he takes in your clearly enthralled reaction, not replying to your statement.

You take a moment to compose yourself. Drawing your hands into small fists on the desk and letting out a silent but deep exhale.

You didn’t need to ask why he would gift this to you of all people. Lucius’ verbal prodding had been getting progressively more consistent once you’d entered your seventh year this semester.

Like most girls turning 18, your inherently childish ways had vanished; awkward appearances for the most part altered and morphed during the summer spent away from Hogwarts. Hips slowly filling out and breasts becoming distinguished. Meanwhile, your library of insults to throw at him became more deadly and varied.

You could play his game better than he expected you to now.

You crossed your legs underneath your skirt, steeling your expression. You leaned forward to lay your chin against your right palm and turned your gaze towards him. Making a show of looking him up and down before quietly whispering:

“All this just to fuck me huh, Malfoy?” His face stills and demeanor changes. Tongue-tied by your change of tone.

You proceed with a nonchalant, “Your mind must be plagued with questions of just how pretty and pink my pussy is. I’m right aren’t I, sweetheart?”

You observe his jaw lock in place.

“Do you want to brag to your spineless lackeys about how you were the first one to fuck that cocky, Gryffindor halfblood? I bet you wouldn’t wait to boost over how all you had to do was touch her once, call her a filthy, little mudblood and she’d come like a bitch without a pedigree.”

His eyes darken and fists clench so tightly that they turn whiter than you thought possible for him; as you inwardly muse over if he was becoming horny or infuriated. Maybe it was both, but you wouldn’t stick around to see the outcome. He was a deadly bomb waiting to go off.

Pursing your lips, looking him over once more, you decide to leave him with, “Nice chat. I’ll see you around then, Lucius.”

Agilely, you gather your things. Sauntering over to Professor Slughorn and quietly feeding him a contrived lie about how it’s that time of the month and you didn’t think you’ll be able to sit through today’s lecture; effectively earning yourself leave from the classroom.

As Lucius sits, daftly staring at your back as you make your escape. If he wasn’t previously furious from listening to your small beratement, he most definitely is when he glances down to see the silver stamp invite missing from where he had placed it on the table.

“That bloody minx.” He seethes under his breath.

Having made your speedy getaway and in the clear for the moment, you decide to make a beeline to the Gryffindor common room where you know your friends are spending their free period.

Remus, who is the first to notice you entering the warm lounging area, stands up at your arrival and walks to meet you halfway.

“Y/n, aren’t you supposed to be in Potions right now? Did something happen?” He questions, his brows beginning to furrow. Sirius and James who are seated next one another mid-laugh immediately turn their heads in your direction.

Not stopping your power walk, you reach out and grasp one of his hands and pull him with you towards the boy’s dormitory entrance. “Padfoot, Prongs! Up, up!” You urgently whisper in their vicinity.

Once the door is securely locked behind the four of you, Sirius questions you, “Alright, spit it out. What’s got your panties in a twist this time, Y/L/N?”

You ignore him, haphazardly tossing your book-bag on the floor next to James’ bed; of which you proceed to throw yourself onto the edge of, letting out a cheerful giggle.

“Boys. I’ve just been bestowed one the greatest gifts a Hogwarts senior could ask for. One of which, you lot would have never been able to get your hands on. So you must now bask in my glory!” You jokingly proclaim, yanking off your school shoes before pulling your legs into criss cross-applesauce. Incapable of caring that your underwear is now in the boy’s lines of sight.

“And what is this gift exactly, oh great benefactor?” James questions, sitting on the floor in front you, folding his arms atop your lap and leaning his head forward on them with a fond smile.

Your fingers absentmindedly glide and fiddle through his chaotic curls. “I don’t know, you might not be able to handle the excitement. I fear you might faint from the shock of the reveal!” You continue to jest.

“I best take a seat before you continue then.” Remus grins, plopping down next you on the bed, giving you his undivided attention. This of which, causes Sirius to scoff.

“Dish it already, woman. At the pace you’re going, I’ll be a skeleton by time you finally tell us what the big deal is.” He sarcastically jabs folding his arms briskly. Instead of moving away from the door, he leans his back against it and crosses one leg over the other. His gaze lazily quizzical as you roll your eyes at his apprehension.

“Sirius, you’re no fun sometimes, but if you’re in such a hurry to cum your pants then here it is.” You reply, reaching the hand that’s not currently tangled in James’ hair, to triumphantly pull out a small, silver stamp from the inside of your bra and present it for the group to see.

There are mixed reactions to the reveal.

James scrunches his nose up in mock disgust, Sirius freezes and Remus placing one hand on your shoulder, leaning forward to get a better look. And then the questions begin.

“What is it?”

“Oh, it just happens to be a pass into one of Slytherin house’s craziest parties of the year, James dear.”

“How’d you even manage to get your hands on one of these?”

“Like I said, it was a gift, Remus.”

“Be honest, Y/n. What poor sod did you steal it from?”

“For your information I didn’t have to steal it. Lucius Malfoy just handed it to me for nothing.” You say matter-of-factly at which he first gapes before proceeding to fume.

The conversation that continued from then on took a tiny bit of convincing on your end, but all three boys agreed in the end to come with you. No one in their right mind would let a chance like this go by.

Saturday, February 11th, 1978

“If you think you could pull the stunt you did yesterday and waltz in here today without having to answer to me, you’re gravely mistaken, lionet.” Lucius whispers into your ear and you just happen to be in the mood to challenge him further.

“I don’t think I’ve made even one mistake though, Daddy.” You coo back to him. Batting your eyelashes up at him and with a quick smirk you bring your cup of fire whiskey back to your lips for a sip.

With one hand he grabs your hips and pushes your back flush with the wall behind you. The other reaching under the skirt you’re wearing and pausing right at the hem.

“Prod me one more time, doll. I guarantee I’ll have you crying your pretty little eyes out.” He growls into your neck and this time you openly giggle up at him.

“I thought you knew that’s what I wanted, baby?” was the last thing you drawled out before the next thing you know, he’s dragging you further away from the main party, into a small reading room.

Closing the door behind you two, he leads you to sit down on one of the ottomans in the middle of the room.

“I’ll let you in on a secret, Y/N. A small part of your observation from yesterday was correct.” He says undoing the tie around his neck and bunching it up. Before you could question him further, he gingerly stuffs it in-between your mouth.

“Can't risk having anyone hearing the cute little moans you'll be letting out for me. I want all the time I can get from you tonight, lionet.” Is all he offers as an explanation.

Rubbing your thighs together to aid in soothing your gradually aching cunt, you watch as he gets on his knees in front of you.

“I’ve spent countless months thinking of this stupid, fucking pussy of yours and tonight I’m determined to have it creaming all over my cock.” He's gazing at you intensely while his hands are reaching to pull off your undies.

Not being able to actually respond around your makeshift gag, you settle for lifting your hips so he can get to pleasing you quicker.

As the minutes pass, the soberer you become but Lucius’ arousing words continue to sway you into a pliant and silent submission.

Never in a million years did you think you would willing want Lucius Malfoy to fuck you senseless but the closer you get to having him, the more sure you are of it. You pray to Morgana that he leaves your cunt an absolute mess.

Once you’re free from your undergarment, he pulls you by your thighs until your ass is flush against the edge of the couch.

He pushes your knees back against your chest to get full access to your core, “Daddy wants you to keep your thighs nice and wide for him so he can wreck your little pussy, okay?” He questions and you let out a muffled sob of your confirmed understanding.

“Good girl” is all he replies before he gets to work. Spreading the lips with two fingers, he examines just how pink you are down there, seemingly pleased because immediately after, he springs into action.

His mouth cups around your clit, starting off slow and light to ease you into the pleasure before increasing the intensity.

He begins alternating between sucking and lapping at your bud while a single finger makes its way to your slit. Leisurely dragging the pad in your wetness before sliding it inside you, centimeter by centimeter, until it’s gone as far it can go.

Thrusting the one finger in and out until he feels your insides are soaked and loose enough for the next.

By the time you’re comfortablely taking four fingers fucking into you, your arousal is dripping down his wrist and you’re nearing your first orgasm.

“Lu- Lucius!” You manage to drool out through the thickness of his tie, catching his attention.

“Luci- I’m close!” You try to sob out and he responds by sucking and lapping at your clitorus intenser than before. His tongue rubbing just the right angle and you can’t help but let out a small squeal as your body is raked over with a white flash of euphoria.

He eases you through it with softer and softer laps as you squeeze your thighs to your chest with a vice grip. He licks up the remainder of your cum before coming up to remove the tie from your mouth and pull you into an enticing kiss.

As your breathing relaxes, he pulls his lips away. “How was that, sweetheart? Did Daddy make your little cunt feel good like he promised?” He coos, caressing your shoulders to soothe you further.

Fighting to get your words back you mewl, “Mmhmm, thank you Daddy. Felt really good, just like you promised. Do you think I’ve been good enough to have your cock though?” you ask looking up at him through wet lashes. His immediate response is a moan.

How is it that you know just what to say to rile him up? He wonders.

Picking you up, he takes your place on the couch. Pulling off his trousers and underwear, finally freeing his cock, it swings upright against his tummy. Scooting to leisurely lean back, he places you in his lap as you take a minute to admire his member. It’s thick and hard with a raging reddish-pink tip, leaking a small amount pre-cum.

Your core throbs and there’s no way you’re not gonna suck him off before getting him inside of you. Before you can scuttle off his lap however, his hands are gripping your hips. “Where are you going, love? I thought you wanted my cock?” He questions with a smirk.

Of course Lucius would make you beg to suck him off, you think, responding with a desperate moan. You try to lean in for a kiss but a hand flies up to hold your jaw in place. Squishing your cheeks and mouth together.

“Ah ah.” He tuts. “You know what to do, baby.”

You let out a defiant whine and the hand around your cheeks grip tightens.

“Daddy just told you to beg, you fucking whore.” He growled, giving your head a slight jerk back and you melt against him.

Grasping at his shoulders and trying to keep yourself from swooning, you respond with, “Wanna suck your cock, Daddy. Can I make you feel good please? You can even fuck my throat. Let me be a good girl for you.” you whimper through his grip and he just smiles at you before pulling you in for the kiss you wanted.

“That’s all you had to say, little lionet. Come on, let Daddy slide down your throat.” He grins and you practically fly down from his lap to get his penis in your mouth.

Moaning when his pre-cum hits your tongue, you immediately lick up and down his length. Getting as much spit around him as possible before beginning to use your hands to jerk him off. Lapping at his tip all the way to sucking his balls between your lips.

All he can do is whisper softly “Fuck fuck fuck, yes- ah that’s a good girl. My little girl is such a good slut for me.” before you come up to start deepthroating him and then his head is lolled back against the couch, gently holding both sides of your face as his tip hits the back of your throat.

Pulling you off of him by the hair at the nape of your neck, he has to take deep inhales and exhales “I wanna come in you, sweetheart.” He groans, caressing your hair.

Once he’s recovered enough, he lifts you to sit back on his lap, this time facing away from him.

You lean forward grasping his knees while he fingers you to make sure you’re ready to take him. “Alright, Angel.” He groans, licking his newly wet fingers to taste your arousal once more before reaching around to rub slow circles against your clit.

As you slide onto him, leaning your back against his chest, the room fills with your collective sighs and moans of pleasure.

He begins to set the pace, starting with slow pulls out of your heat before using your weight to pull you back down onto him firmly. Experiencing such euphoria that coherent speech begins to elude you. The both of you too lost in the pleasure to say anything other than “Yes, yes, yes! Right there, fuck me!” mixed with slurred moans and sighs.

His fingers rubbing your clit in circles, fastens in pace and soon your second orgasm knocks into you so hard that all you can do is grip his wrist and thigh, convulsing helplessly around him.

As you’re climaxing, Lucius fuzzily notices that you’re squirting. All that can be heard from your lips is a fucked out wail and he’s sure he’s in love.

He’s fucked you through your orgasm and the pleasure is gradually escalating into overstimulation. Your body locking in place as he maintains the same pace, rocking into you.

“Luci- fuck! Lucius!” You’re crying now, thrown deep into subspace.

“Come on Angel, let me give you one more. Think you can manage one more orgasm, hm?” He asks desperately fucking into you like he’s starved of pleasure.

“Can you handle it, babygirl?”

“O- Okay!” Literally sobbing now from the buildup. He’s fucking you like you’ve never experienced before.

“It hurts so good, Luci- you’re fucking me so good!” You cry out, both of you racing towards the end.

One last thrust does it and he grabs you by the waist to bring you down on him. You let a blissed out scream and he’s resting his forehead against your back breathing heavily. Warmth spreading in your stomach as he releases into you. He gives a few thrusts before pulling out.

You’re feeling fuzzy as he cleans your inner thighs and face off. He sprinkles kisses from your legs to your lips, praises peppering your ego.

“You were such a good girl for me.”

“Look at you baby. So pretty.”

“Good job, love.”

“You were wonderful, little lionet.”

Pulling your panties back on for you, he’s pleased knowing his come is still inside you. “Something to remember me by.” He says before pulling you into one last kiss for the night. It’s slow and soft and as your coherent mind is making its way back into your body, you register how tender he’s being.

Pulling back from his lips, you stare into his eyes. “I hope you’re aware that you can’t fuck me that good and expect it to be a one time fling.” You state smiling, fingers grasping at his sides and he laughs.

“I was never planning for it to be, doll.” He replies, slipping a strand of hair behind your ear. “Now run along back to your miscreant friends. I’ll finish cleaning up here.” He pats your butt, pushing you towards the door and with a roll of your eyes, you head out.

After turning a few corners you immediately bump into Sirius who looks over you with a raised brow.

“What?” You ask, pulling back.

“Nothing, you just look like you got fucked into next year though.” He barks out. Laughing his head off, pointing out your makeup that’s missing in action and hair completely unstyled. You elbow him in the stomach feeling suddenly sheepish.

“Shut up and help me find the others. I’m in desperate need of a shower.” And you can’t help but chuckle with him, his laugh being undeniably contagious.

“Whatever you say. I think I saw James challenging some random sod to an arm wrestling match.”

#lucius malfoy #lucius malfoy x reader #harry potter imagine #lucius malfoy smut #lucius malfoy fluff #young lucius malfoy #marauders #marauders era #marauders x reader #sirius black fluff #sirius black x reader #harry pottr imagines #fluff #smut

989 notes · View notes

cornacopicimagines · 4 years

Text

best of friends pt.2 │t.h

pairing: singledad!mob!tom holland x singlemom!reader

words: 5.7k

warnings: SMUT, swearing, major violence, depictions of violence and blood, rough sex, oral (male receiving), face fucking, unprotected sex, dom!tom & creampie.

summary: Everything was perfect. The two-and-a-half years since they first met have been nothing but love and respect. Until, y/n comes home one night, her husband gone for the time being. It all somehow crumbles in front of her, she can't help but question it. Though this thought is nothing to what he feels in that very moment. It's pure fear and terror, a pent-up storm of worry. Their comfort zone is nothing longer alive, it was buried and left to rot.

a/n: so. it must be said, i went through three different plots before i settled on this one. that is why this goddamn fic has taken me so long to write. This is probably the last mob!tom holland fic i'll write because bitch has a lot of other AUs that i would honestly prefer to write. enjoy!

part 1

masterlist

━━★✼☆｡

y/n waited for a moment. It wasn't long, but it was enough she had to check the clock on her wrist. 1:37am. Although she heard the snoring of Lottie, sound asleep in her bed, y/n knew otherwise. She knew that as soon as her feet hit the carpeted floor of her daughter's bedroom, the girl would shoot straight up and whine for y/n to come back. She loved Lottie with all of her heart, like all of her kids, however sometimes the precious little angels got on her nerves. Just last Tuesday is a prime example as y/n desperately fiddling with the buttons of Tom's shirt, wanting nothing more to take every inch of him while his whole operation continued below them. Just as she had popped the last latch, James called out for his father from across the house, most likely because one of the boys got hurt again from the play fighting they insisted they do. Sadly, y/n redid her husband's buttons and let him leave her widely aroused and dissatisfied.

As she watched Lottie take in her small breaths, y/n recounted the moments. She still remembers her wedding, clear as day. It was in their garden, with the trees dressed in beautiful pink silk and the flowers somehow in full bloom. No one was around, it's was secluded and perfect. It was just them, Theo and James stood side by side, their matching suits made her heart swell. Their perfectly rosy cheeks lit up as they saw y/n make her way down the grassy aisle. Though she never saw it, Tom admits that it was Theo who smacked him on the arm to turn around. To come face to face with his bride, a blushing bride that was 7 months pregnant. It was a rush of a events that y/n never quite saw occuring so early into her life. Yet, the day she told Tom they were going to be parents, he asked her to marry him. Of course, y/n organised a typical wedding after she had given birth but at that very second, every bad thing she had to live through suddenly became a single speck of sand on a vast beach. A prologue to her wonderful life ahead of her.

The door swung open slightly, though the light from outside Lottie's room was off, y/n could instantly tell who was stepping over countless dolls and plastic cars. Tom knelt at the side of his daughter's bed, just below his wife as she softly stroked Lottie's forehead. "You need some rest Sweetness," he told her quietly, watching over Lottie's snoring figure.

"I can't" y/n stifled through a yawn. Though she greatly needed to run to her bed and pass out, she refused to leave Lottie unless she knew her daughter was absolutely deep in sleep. Tom sighed, letting his forehead hit the soft linen of the bed cover.

"You need sleep, I can't look after the brady bunch by myself," Tom joked. His hand came to draw soft circles on y/n's thigh. It was nothing if not soothing to her. He could directly make out her face in the darkness, but Tom knew his wife was smiling, a low grin painted upon her fatigued face. "I'll take this shift."

y/n reached out for his face, finding it in seconds. Her thumb now matched the pattern on his cheek that Tom was drawing on her thigh. "We made a deal," it was his speciality, but he never wanted it to get this bad. "You would help Theo with his Valentine's Day gift if I could get this one to sleep."

y/n possessed many traits that Tom adored. She was empathetic, a woman of incredible wit and intelligence, had the stamina of a bull but her stubbornness seemed to be her crowing glory. Tom knew his wife as well as he knew how to count to ten. She wasn't leaving until absolute confirmation was handed to her. "Sweetness, I would prefer if you came to bed with me," he tried, the approach was simple and usually it worked.

"As much as I would adore that, I'm not going anywhere with you mister," y/n teased. Her attention focusing back on Lottie. Perhaps it was the way her eyelids seemed to betray her, closing every few seconds or if it was simply the way the mattress felt beneath her legs. Eventually though, the mixture of all of those and her husband's head laying flat on her thighs, she began to slowly creep off the bed. The pads of her feet pressed against the floor in such delicacy, y/n doubted that she even touching it. She reached out for Tom, grasping slightly at his bare bicep as she lifted herself up.

Tom caught on to his wife's movements and made sure that the path was completely clear of any of Lottie's toys. Calmly, the pair of them tip-toed out. Every move halted by their daughter's movements but eventually, the door closed and y/n was free from the little montress's grip. y/n wishes that she was more awake, more alert because even in her half sleep dazed she could make out the tight white singlet that clung to Tom's body. She reached out for him, it was the weakest of touchs. Yet, her hand fell on his shoulder and running up to the base of his neck. It wasn't sexual in any form, instead they stood in the dim light in complete silence. Watching each other feel the affected of forced insomnia.

"How am I going to get up this morning," y/n giggled as she accepted the sudden embrace from Tom. Her head finding it's way into the same shoulder she tenderly caressed seconds ago. Tom's fingers coiled around her forearm gently as the began to quietly walk to their bedroom. "Hopefully Meg will be around at that time," she sighed as the soft breeze of their room hit her face. Meg was their nanny, a woman who has been employed by Tom since James was a baby. She was a sweet old thing, a cliché of the lovely old lady in fairtales.

"She will, sadly I won't," Tom told her, pressing a kiss to her cheek as they both hid themselves under the sating covers. y/n wanted to continue the conversation, she knew that Tom wouldn't be back at home until tomorrow night and for the first time, she would be in charge of everyone but she couldn't. As soon as her head hit the lavender scented pillow, she was out like a light. Tom just chuckled in return, pulling her into a soft embrace.

━━★✼☆｡

y/n wasn't an idiotic woman. She has been with Tom for two and a half years; married to him for two years, she immediately knew when something didn't feel right. As her fingers gripped the steering wheel, she peered in her rear-view mirror. It was something Tom's bodyguards drive around in. The vehicle was large and bulky, looking like it a take down a building with minimum amount of speed. It was painted in the midnight black, even the widows seemed to be darkened. Like before, y/n recognised the model of the car to be a sister of the cars she would frequently have to ride in if she accompanied Tom anywhere, he thought posed even the slightest amount of danger. She knew that with every corner she took, the car would mimic her turns. y/n caught onto it in seconds, watching through Lottie's car seat and Theo's mop of hair. It didn't help that when she called Tom's head guard, he told her that he had followed her orders. To let her pick up her children to avoid the never-ending shock from the ensemble of 6'5 muscular men accompanying her wherever she went.

"Do you want us to do anything about it ma'am?" he asked through the car's speaker. y/n pondered for a few seconds. While her gut was screaming at her that this was something completely out of the ordinary, if there was any ordinary being married to a Mob boss. Her mind knew that if she did say something to him now it was no doubt find its way to Tom. He would instantly assume the worst and cancel any important deal in front of him to race home. The guard's voice pulled her out of her concentration.

"Get the house under lockdown," she ordered, for the first time she felt truly in control but as all things it was slipping. "Do not tell my husband."

"Ma'am, it is imperative that Mr. Holland know of this," the guard protested. y/n had been going through quite a rough day. She was tired, overworked and constantly around wailing children. She refused to be around another. Her jaw clenched as she pulled into their street, the car still hot on her tail.

"I don't care, Tom will not know of this," y/n snapped, peering up for a final time but to her initial surprise that car had vanished. She had no clue where the fucker had gone. "It's probably nothing," she spoke quietly. The sentence was more reassurance for herself than from him, yet he had heard her, accepted her terms and hung up.

As she pulled the car into the impressively large garage, she lets her bare forehead hit top of the steering wheel. She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth.

"Mum," Theo called out from the backseat, "are you alright?" The boy's question was laced with genuine concern. It released whatever anxiety riddled grip had got a hold of y/n. She gazed up, smiling as she let all her negative thoughts leave her before turning to her three children.

"I am just really tired honey," she replied as she exited the car and proceeded to undo Lottie's buckled. "Not to worry, I think it is Boy's Movie Night tonight!" Both boys cheered in unison. The afternoon went on as usual. Theo and James spent the entire time with their faces glued to the screen in front of them. Squealing every time the supposed bad guys landed flat on his ass, jumping at every occasion that they could. Even if they lived in a mansion, y/n was positive that everyone in this house could hear their playful laughter.

y/n sat next to Lottie; her curly brunette hair clipped back into two adorable pigtails. Lottie was a carbon copy of Tom. Even next to her half-brother James, Lottie seemed to possess ever physical trait of y/n's husband. The smooth somehow flawless skin, the bouncy chestnut curls that y/n just knows will be her daughter's statement piece when she grows up and finally the pair of chocolate eyes that gets her father weak every time, she babbles up at him. She wondered how all of her children would look like when they get old enough to make their own decisions. While James doesn't have Tom's colouring like Lottie does, he has this glimmer of mischievousness in his eyes. Something y/n has loves about her boys, they all share this odd ball of high-energy. Theo looks exactly like y/n, her colouring and her features. Theo's look alikeness to his mother is something y/n feels is divine intervention. To show that, this is her son. Her baby boy and no one else's unless she says so.

"Ma'am" Meg's heavy Irish accent perks up. She's standing at the windows, peering through the curtains slightly. "I think you should see this," she advises before stepping away from the scene and running to grab Lottie from her highchair. y/n hesitantly waltzes over, she presents a cool face to her children, but she can feel her stomach crawling into her throat as she gets closer. y/n pulls the fabric back slightly, she prays that is it now in the early hours of the night and the light is off. It's the same car, it's now parked across the road from her house. Just outside of their camera’s visibility, the vehicle is camouflaged almost to perfection, she can still spot it. Its headlights are off and the car makes not a single sound. At first, y/n faithfully believes she is now seeing things, that her brain is so unfathomably tired it has resorted to petty tricks. That is until one of the car doors open quickly. She waits for a moment as does this figure in the car before a pair of fit hit the ground. Though it makes no clamour, it startles her. y/n doesn’t wait to meet his eyes as his head ducks under the car roof to fully meet the air. She turns around to meet Meg’s eyes, the women wear matching looks.

“Take the children into the spare room, go now,” y/n speaks softly as not to alarm her sons. Meg nods quickly, instantly holstering Lottie on her hips and shooing the boys away from the glowing TV.

She pauses until she hears the door close. It’s deafening. She turns her attention back to the scene, it’s worse than before. There’s at least 7 of them huddled around this car, pulling unknown bags from the seats. As the mystery bags hit the ground, the unknown men begin opening it. It’s filled to the brim with metal, the holsters of guns peeking through with the aid of the dim light of the streetlight. y/n refused to observe anymore, silently she alerts the guards in the house. She doesn’t even process the next second, it’s like nothing is working anymore. y/n knows what the sound is, she knows what is happening, she knows that in a matter of seconds the men have begun firing at her front landing. Killing anyone standing outside, she can feel the bullets entering their bodies.

It’s with that, y/n goes from a fast pace to sprinting. She rushes down the long halls to meet with her children. It’s feels like an eternity that she is opening doors, calling out for any of them. All the while, gunshots ring out like a bell, constant and terrible. Her phone vibrates,it send her nerves over the edge. y/n stops for a second to stare at it, Tom’s name lights up the screen. Instead of answering, her fingers lose all their function. Her phone drops from her hand and hits the floor. She wants to pick it up but her feet work against her and begin to simply pace herself away from her phone as it continues to hum against the tiles.

Finally, she reaches the room. Meg holds Lottie close to her chest, rocking the toddler back and forth as Lottie cries into Meg’s shirt. Theo and James are standing in the middle of the room. Both look like they are on their verge of tears and to be completely truthfully, so was she. Closing the door, y/n immediately wraps her arms around her sons. She feels the wet tears staining her shoulders. She feels their chests rise and fall drop as best they can.

“You boys are so brave,” she sooths, her palms rubbing circles atop their heads. Slowly, she peers up. While the gunfire continues to ring out, y/n stares at the people in the room with her. Not a single bulb is turned on, the area is pitch black, but she can still see how this if affecting the boys. How Meg clutches onto Lottie’s wailing body. “It’ll be over soon.”

“You promise,” James chokes out, he wipes his face of her blouse. y/n pressed a tender kiss to his hair. She lets a single tear escape her eyes.

“I swear handsome,” y/n tells him, but she’s not convinced by the sound of her own voice. The boys pull away from her, one of her hands reaches for their salty cheeks. “Everything will be alright, Mumma swears.”

She doesn’t want to; she wants to scream. She wants to burn the entire house to the ground. She wants to leave with her children and never come back. y/n has never felt this in her entire life. This is not only pure terror for the lives of her children but it’s uncontrollable rage. She’s being held together by a tearing material of a rubber band. Her limbs are coiled, feeling as though she has rusted in the rain. Her mind doesn’t stop, it runs as if it has never felt this wrathful freedom in its life. A million different thoughts threaten to take power, as if they should decide her next move. She doesn’t let them of course, y/n’s had practice at this, and she will not crack now.

“Meg, give me Charlotte now,” y/n’s voice is hoarse and breaking with ever vowel that drops from her lips. The old lady rushes over to y/n and hands her Lottie. The toddler instinctively wraps her arms around y/n, refusing to let go. Another 20 minutes go by, it's torture. The air seems to wash around y/n as she clings onto her children for dear life. Quietly, she pans over to Meg. The old woman looks as if she has turned from the humble baker's wife down the street to death herself. Their eyes lock, passing silent messages to each other.

I'm sorry, y/n pleads. She thinks if she spoke it aloud, it would travel barely above a whisper.

It's okay, sweetheart, Meg responded. Though the woman only truly meant the first part, y/n wanted to believe that she would have used the nickname to calm her nerves. Somehow it did.

The moment lasted for only seconds. A fleeting feeling of safety was ruined by the doorknob rattling furiously. At the speed of sound, y/n had handed Lottie over to Meg and told her to hide in the bathroom with the children. y/n heard everything, the door lock behind Meg and the muffled yelling behind the door in front of y/n. She scrambled to her feet, driving her to the wide bedside table. She threw open the doors until she landed on the one thing she never believes she's use. A small handgun. y/n didn't quite have time to question her morals at this very second in time. y/n wrapped her fingers around the handle just as the door swung open. Tears spilled as she pointed the gun aimlessly.

"Thank god," his familiar voice rang out. y/n sunk to her knees, the gun falling right from her fingertips. Tom rushed to her side; he didn't know what to say to her. He knew exactly what she was feeling, he knew whatever attempt he made at explaining the horrid situation would break his poor wife even further.

y/n studied his features in the dim light of the room as he got closer to her. She had never seen him in such a state. His hair flopping all over his face, hiding whatever panic was clearly evident over his features. More specifically, y/n watched as it became clearer. A large splatter of blood across his right cheek. She fell right into his arms, finally allowing herself to stain his shirt with her burst of weeps.

━━★✼☆｡

y/n's body was on fire. The fire was nothing but pure pain. As if bugs were nesting right under skin, desperate for a gasp of air. Even the clock ticked loudly, ever noise of the hand pressed her brain against her skull. Every joint rigid in its own specific way, damaged and tight.

"Sweetness, talk to me," Tom soothed, using the towel to clean the final fragments of blood off his cheek. Her eyes squinted at him, waiting for him to do anything other than be his normal gentle self. y/n slid herself off the foot of their bed and walked to the closed door. Flashing images of the other room crossing her mind.

"I need to check on the kids," she huffed. While y/n knew Meg was laying wide away on the floor of Theo's room as all three children slept contently, she wanted to be away from him at a moment like this. She needed to not see his face. Alas, Tom's hand gripped her wrist tightly. The touch sizzled her skin, the tension elevated for a split second.

y/n whipped around to face him; Tom felt his patience slipping from him. "y/n, be an adult," he hissed.

Tom knew he shouldn't be talking to her like this, but he was at his wit's end. A candle burning to the final wax. He mentally fucked himself over when he got that stupid fucking call. Sir, your wife has informed us of an unidentified vehicle following her, it engraved itself into his mind. Tom remembers sitting at the desk, wondering if she was witnessing the same group, he had fucked over a few months ago. Deciding it could wait, Tom told them to keep his updated throughout the night. As if whatever god was up there decided to play a tortuous comedy routine with Tom, it did begin to progress. First, the car pulling up hours before his arrival. Then the major security breach and finally as they began shooting at his house, ready to slaughter anyone they found inside. Especially his family.

She watched his intently. Waiting for a further response and yet, nothing. Her anger was bubbling over. "I am an adult," she seethed at him, her fingers unwrapping themselves from the doorknob. "I make sure that my children are safe, I make it my life's mission to ensure that I am not the direct cause of those certain dangers I wish to keep them so far away from!"

She had ripped her hand from his grasp, this wasn't something she was backing away from. It was something she could fight and to which she intended to do until the very end.

The little monologue broke Tom's heart. How could she believe that he would do such a horrific thing? How could she blame him for the events that unfolded tonight? He wondered if she truly knew this was never his intention. That he never wanted his family to come under direct attack all because he made one dangerous decision.

“You don’t talk to me like that y/n,” He grumbled. The air seemed to thicken with every word, cause more distance between the spouses. It was never like this they fought like a normal couple but never with this much venom. “I don’t deserve such criticism, especially from you.”

“Why?” she pondered, she moved closer to him. Inching closer with every second. “Is it because you question my authority? Or maybe is it because I am some silly little schoolteacher who got trouble with the wrong kind of people," she moved closer with every word of the sentence, pushing her dangerously closer. It’s a risk she must take if she wants to feel any sort of release.

“Stop being so theatrical y/n, you endured something horrible, but that is what you signed up for when you married me,” the room climbed in temperature. Tom had half a mind to strip himself just to get closer to peace, but with y/n so close to his chest, he preferred to work on her. Tom can’t pinpoint what made his mind switch in directions. Maybe it was the ever-growing heat, or perhaps it was the indescribable feeling of almost losing your wife and mother of your children. Either way, Tom thoughts were growing darker. The need to bruise y/n’s skin seemed to be the only thing he could really think about. “You wanted this,” he grunted, closing in on her. “Sweetness, you agreed to this lifestyle as soon as you sunk your sweet cunt onto me.”

The vulgarity of his words caught her off guard. Her breath stopped halfway when her back almost slammed into the wall. She wasn’t giving in so easily, even if the heat from her body had swiftly travelled to the valley between her thighs. y/n turned her head away from him in any desperation to not look at him. Unfortunately, Tom caught her actions as if he knew her every move. His fingers pressed against her chin to bring her eyes back to him. Tom was worried for an instant that she would truly be too furious with him to play into his game. Luckily, her eyes betrayed her. The big doe eyes of her stared up at him, pleaded to be fucked like an animal. Slammed into until all of her rage had slipped from her conscious.

“Screw yourself Tom,” she coughed out. She was playing along, y/n knew exactly where this was heading. A tender kiss was placed upon her lips, while the action itself was soft, nothing about the kiss genuinely was. It was the ultimate puzzle piece for him.

"You want to speak to me like a bitch," Tom chuckled, "you'll get fucked like a bitch." He kicked the back of her knees harshly, causing her to meet with the floor. "On your knees and hands behind your back." She wanted to protest, she wanted to act out the little brat but like most things, her arms instinctively pulled themselves behind her. "Now, I sincerely hope I don't have to punish you further sweetness," Tom soothed as he swiftly undid the buckle of his jeans, discarding the items of clothing across the room. His throbbing cock hit the base of his stomach with a soft slap. y/n bit her lip in instinct, it had been a while, and did she wholly miss this glorious scene in front of her.

y/n leaned forward and dragged her tongue from the base of him until her lips met with the beads of pre-cum drenching him. Slowly but surely, she wrapped her lips around him. Letting him enjoy the wet cavern of her mouth for a short time. He threw his head back in unison with a beautifully quiet moan. Her eyes never left him, as she bobbed her head gradually. If she was on her knees unable to reach out and touch him, she would at least make it fun for her. y/n only quickened her pace if their line of focus connected. As soon as Tom stared directly into her eyes, she would start her movements but if he turned away to enjoy the moment, everything would stop. It went like this before Tom had quite enough of it all. Without uttering a single word, Tom wrangle his hands into her soft hair and thrusted right up into her mouth, hitting the back of her throat roughly. She gagged loudly, making an awful sound as she attempted to regain her position. He pulled away from her, only to slam right back into her mouth. Unlike her plan beforehand, as he face fucked her, his pace begins to speed up.

y/n was now struggling to hold back her ragged gags as small tears slid out of her eyes. "Pretty girl, all worked out from my cock in your mouth huh?" Tom teased as he relished in the sounds of her cacophony of broken breaths. Just as quickly as he began, he pulled away from her complete. He dropped out of her mouth with a small pop and a trail of saliva that landed on the tops of her breasts. "Get up," to which she happily obliged. As soon as y/n had regained her footing, Tom's hands had completely destroyed her pants. The loose skirt was now in two pieces at her feet, along with her favourite pair of panties. Unfortunately, she didn't even get a second to scold him before he spun her around and slammed her chest against the wall. The pain excited her, it coursed through her torso and down into her legs, causing them to spasm slightly.

Tom looked at her, in the soft moonlight she was glowing. Ass facing him, tits pressed up against the wall. Complete ready for him. Tom gave her a small kiss on her shoulder, this time it truly was meant to be tender but in typical Tom fashion. As soon as his lips left her skin, Tom plunged right up into her. His hand covering her surprised squeal. God did he miss this. Filling her tight pussy right up to the brim. Even after everything they had been through, she still fit him like a glove. Hugged him so perfectly, Tom was worried he was shot his load right into her at this very moment. Sadly, he pushed the thought away and began rocking into her; his hand still covered over her mouth.

y/n could feel every inch of his like this. She could feel just how hard he was ramming into her cunt. Her nails gripped onto the wall in front of her as she whimpered into the palm of his hand. With every snap of his hips, her worries seemed to really melt away. All the tension built up in her body being oiled as he parted her legs to reach a nook in her that she thought impossible. “Tommy, f—fuck, oh my god,” it was incoherent garble. Nonsense talk as her eyes rolled back into her head for a few seconds. His head found the valley of her neck, peppering light kisses a major difference to the rough pace he had adopted.

“What is it sweetness,” Tom gasped right into her ear. The hot air tickling her skin. His other hand gripped callously at her hip, bruising the delicate skin under his fingers. “Come on tell me,” Tom was struggling to keep himself in check. The pure sound of skin against skin as he fucked her ass filled the air, pushing him closer to ecstasy. His hand pulled away from her lips, an immediately low moan tumbled from her lips. y/n waited for her body to response to anything, everything thrown out the window every time his dick hit her perfect spot inside of her.

“Har—harder,” she strained through strings of vulgarities and chants of his name. Tom smirked at her, she caught it before he pulled away from her. Tom started to slow his movements, observing how she swallowed him whole every time he thrusted into her tight hole.

“You really want it harder sweetness?” Tom asked, he was just as desperate for a release as she was. y/n nodded her head furiously, words seeming to fail her at this instance. “Turn around,” he ordered, she swivelled around to face him. Her once neat hair now a mess of pleasure tugged strains. Her lids fluttering shut and her cheeks flushed. She looked like a Greek statue. Tom bent and lifted her over his shoulders, earning a tiny giggle from his huffing wife above him. He frantically sprinted over to their bed and promptly chucked her on it. The force knocking a bit of wind out of her.

In a flash of actions, her face had been pressing into the mattress and her ass high up in air. Tom gave it a light smack before lining up and pounding right into her. Both of them let out a soft line of curses. It had never been this intense in their entire relationship.

The room was silent. Nothing could be heard outside but inside was a different idea. Tom brought her hips down roughly onto him, matching his tattered speed. y/n’s breaths were muffled by the cover of the blanks, her hands desperate for anything to latch onto for support as he fucks her relentlessly. It a beautiful mixture of sounds. Nothing like the soft breaths and gasps on a normal night. While those still as amazing as now, this was pure unfiltered animalistic need. No feelings, just a fantastic way to blow off incredible tense steam. Tom usually adored staring at her as her face scrunched up in pleasure but something about how every time his cock rammed up into her, everything moved with his thrusts. It was memorising, as if a painting had been brought to life. y/n had lost track of time during this, so focused on the way he was able to stretch her so wide that she had completely forgot how long she had been lying here. She didn’t dwell on it for too long before the divine familiar feeling presented itself to her, dwelling at the pit of her stomach.

“Go faster, I’m going t—to come,” she pleaded, lifting her head up for only a moment before diving right back into her muffled screams. Tom growled at this, picking up his already forceful speed. While he tried, his thrusts became sloppy and jagged.

“Come with me sweetness,” he whispered to her, his fingered rubbing cathartic circles on her sensitive clit. The sensation on her bud rupturing another last piece of sanity in her body.

With a final thrust, both y/n and Tom came. A relief as both almost shouted out in absolute ecstasy, their juices mixing together in a beautiful sense of the terms. y/n’s toes curled as she felt it all, every little piece of tension, anger and lust all combine and explode inside of her. Tom wasn’t even the slightest but worried as he had been before this had begun. His sweaty forehead lay against her spine, as his wife attempted to catch her breath. Slowly he pulled out of her, his cum leaking out of her. A sight he would love to have burned into his vision for the rest of his life.

“Feel better?” Tom asked her as he threw himself next to her. y/n turned to face him and for the first time that night an honest grin appeared on her face. A grin given to her by whatever relief she had received moments before.

“Much,” she replied.

━━★✼☆｡

952 notes · View notes

lifeofkaze · 3 years

Text

When Stars Ignite - Chapter 10

HPHM Rockstar AU

A/N:

General Warning: This whole fic has a general warning of being NSFW / 18+. We will give specific warnings for every chapter in itself, but several adult themes will be more or less present in every chapter, may it be explicitly or in mention. These include sexual topics, drug abuse, (ab)use of alcohol, smoking and a whole lot of cursing.

Specific Warning: None, wow 😂

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Find the masterpost here, the previous chapter here and the next one here. The songs featured before every chapter can be found on this pretty badass playlist here.

~~~

This work is a collaboration with @the-al-chemist

Taglist: @slytherindisaster @night-rhea @carewyncromwell

I make my livin' off the evenin' news

Just give me somethin', somethin' I can use

People love it when you lose

They love dirty laundry

~ Don Henley - Dirty Laundry ~

Ethan’s plan to raise Equinox’s standing within the record company was very clear. While their nights were spent performing on stage, Ethan had made sure their days were filled with a tight schedule of PR appointments.

Where they’d had plenty of time to relax, socialise and explore on their previous tours, every day was now jam-packed with meet & greets, photoshoots and interviews. Even when they were off duty, Ethan was constantly reminding them to take pictures and film stories to publish on social media.

“People aren’t following you because they like your music,” he never got tired of saying. “They want to see who’s behind their favourite rockstars. Give them a look at your private life and you’ll be everybody’s darlings in no time once again.”

Some of them were more reluctant to put themselves out there than the others. While Lizzie and Skye didn’t mind the odd goofy backstage clip, Lizzie noticed Merula and especially Orion were increasingly drawing back into themselves.

Lizzie and Orion made a point to avoid talking about band business when they were spending their nights together; not that they were talking much at all. But the concerned crease that she could see more often than not on Orion’s forehead these days wasn’t lost on her either.

The worst part of Ethan’s strategy, however, were without a doubt the countless press appointments. All in the spirit of keeping the enemy close, Lizzie had lost track of how many interviews they had given since their U.K. tour had started. The publications they were working with ranged from reputable magazines and newspapers to the trashiest of tabloids. At least, most of the stories those were coming up with were just too hilarious to be actually believable; Lizzie shuddered to think what dirt they could uncover if they’d ever decide to dig for real.

Like on so many days before, Equinox were scheduled for another interview before one of their rare days off. It was for a feature story with a magazine well respected in the industry, all with an accompanying photo shoot and the whole conundrum. It wouldn’t have sounded so bad, had it not been for the journalist who had been chosen to conduct the interview.

Lizzie had met a number of reporters over the course of her career, but none who ground her nerves as Rita Skeeter did.

Beloved by her readers and dreaded by the subjects of her stories, Rita Skeeter was one of the most sharp-tongued critics British journalism had to offer. She had a singular gift - although some called it a curse - to wiggle even the slightest of juicy information out of her unheeding interview partner. Many a career had taken a dive after an unfortunate encounter with her.

If you wanted utmost attention, Rita Skeeter was the right woman for the job; but you had better get your guard up.

The blonde woman was currently watching Andre preparing them for the interview and the shoot afterwards; usually the magazines brought their own stylists, but Ethan liked to keep as many things under control as he could. Having Andre in charge of their looks guaranteed they would give off just the impression Ethan wanted.

Andre was in the process of applying Lizzie’s make up, the tip of his tongue showing between his teeth while he concentrated. She winced as her eyes started tearing up from the wand of the mascara.

“I don’t get why this much makeup is necessary,” she complained, drawing away from Andre to blink her tears away. “I get it with Merula, she’s singing and in focus, but I’m behind the drums, no one’s paying attention to me. Give her the spotlight and leave me in peace,” she added glumly as she saw Andre approach with a curling wand.

Andre tutted as he opened her ponytail and loosened her hair with practised hands. “Stop arguing, you know it’s useless. And besides,” he added with a wink that showed off his glittery eyeliner, “loads of people are paying attention to you; you’re just not looking.”

“I have to agree with Mr. Egwu,” Rita suddenly said. She had been leaning against one of the dressing tables on the set and watched them being dolled up. Andre usually held their wardrobe in dark colours, black and white, so Rita’s bilious green dress stood out like a flare in comparison. She pursed her bright red lips as she looked Lizzie up and down over the rim of her half-glasses.

“You’re a favourite with my readers, Miss Jameson… Lizzie, I may call you Lizzie, right?”

Without waiting for Lizzie’s answer, she continued. “You have a bright personality and some decent looks; you are the little sunshine of this group and everyone likes themselves a good ‘girl next door in the big wide world’ trope.”

She raised her hands at Lizzie’s sceptical look and laughed; it sounded incredibly put on. “I’m not a fan of putting people into drawers either, but it’s what the people want to see.” She tapped her finger against her temple. “It’s how my readers think.”

Skye snorted in the background; she was already done with her styling and sat on one of the tables, legs dangling in the air. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

Rita giggled. “Of course the rebel of the group would say that, I expected nothing else; after all, there’s true rockstar blood running through your veins, Skye Parkin.”

Not wanting to draw any unnecessary attention to herself, Skye fell silent.

When everyone was ready, they moved over to where two comfortable looking sofas and an armchair were set up for them. Lizzie sighed inwardly as she took her place between Skye and Everett. Rita Skeeter was known to make her interview questions up on the spot; Lizzie just hoped they wouldn’t be too off the rails.

Rita leaned back into her armchair facing them and placed a dictating machine onto the small wooden table next to her. It was no secret that the infamous reporter liked to keep her own notes, kept apart from the material belonging to her magazine; she usually kept the dictating device running long after the cameras had turned off.

“So,” she began speaking to an invisible audience with a sickly sweet voice, “I’m honoured to be talking to England’s hottest export when it comes to rock ‘n’ roll - and I mean that in more ways than one.”

She turned her attention towards them. “It’s so good to have you here today, how are you all?”

They all muttered some noncommittal phrases before Rita started with her first question. Like always in the beginning, it was more of a general palaver as both parties were taking the other’s measure.

If the questions weren’t directed at anyone in particular, it was usually Everett answering them. He loved the attention he got from Rita and contrary to the rest of them, he almost seemed to feel comfortable around her. The pictures Lizzie had seen of him and Rita in Skye’s tabloid came to her mind again, and she wondered if that might be the reason for Everett’s talkativeness.

As the interview continued, Rita’s questions were gradually becoming more detailed, focused on several aspects that she deemed sell-worthy. She watched every one of them closely as they answered, and they picked their words carefully.

“One thing I noticed about this last part of your tour is your very increased availability,” Rita said. “I don’t remember seeing you do so much fan service and public appearances before. What’s the reason behind this?”

It was Orion who answered her question. “The most important thing to us is to make sure our fans are having a good time. Without them, we wouldn’t be where we are now; it’s not a lot, but this is our way of thanking them.”

“Is this the reason for your upcoming special show tomorrow? Reserved for the indigent foster care children?”

Her eyes flicked between Merula and Orion. “It’s no secret you two have a history with the system. One orphaned at such a young age, the other the daughter of convicted criminals, bound to be raised in the shadows of her parents’ deeds. Two unlikely siblings, not bound by blood but by trauma - how does it feel to risk a look into your own past?”

“It’s a show like any other,” Merula replied bluntly, crossing her arms in front of her chest. She scowled at the blonde reporter. “No need to make a big deal out of this.”

Orion inclined his head in Merula’s direction. “What Merula wants to say is, we make no difference in what good cause we are supporting, as long as we can put a smile on the faces of those who need it, even if only for a little while. We do have our past in the care system, that is common knowledge, but as Merula pointed out already, this is in the past. If you want to continue on your path, it is no good walking with your gaze turned backwards. We live in the here and now, so it’s what’s in front of us that matters.”

The slight twitch around the corners of Rita’s mouth was almost too quick to catch, but Lizzie had seen it nonetheless. Apparently, Orion had given her the exact bridge to her next question she had hoped for.

“If you want to speak about the here and now, I’ll be too happy to fulfill your wish,” she cooed. “Now that we’re speaking on a more personal level anyway, I just have to ask. You guys are living everyone’s wildest dreams, a life all of us mere mortals can only imagine.” Her eyes sparkled behind her glasses. “It’s only us here, you can trust me; what about the juicy stories? Any tales of sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll you want to share with the world?”

Lizzie subconsciously bit the inside of her cheek, hoping Rita hadn’t noticed before she got herself under control again; this woman was a bloodhound when it came to scandals. If she ever found out what was going on between Orion and her, Lizzie might just as well bury herself alive.

Luckily, Orion wasn’t fazed by her question. “The only passion we share is the love for our music,” he smiled noncommittally. “As professional musicians we try to keep our public and private lives separated.”

Rita’s eyes gleamed as she leaned forward. “You try to keep them separated?”

Before Lizzie couldn’t help it, her eyes flickered to Orion again.

“We have been friends for years, of course our lives intervene in places. The friendship between us we show to the world is genuine and not for show.”

“Friendship, huh?” Rita’s nostrils flared as her eyes swept the round. “Come on, we’re all adults here. So many gorgeous young people spending their time together all day, everyday? Don’t tell me you’re all staying up drinking apple juice and playing board games.”

Her attention shifted so suddenly that Lizzie was taken by surprise. “What about you, Lizzie? Any stories to tell?” She looked her up and down critically. “If you ask me, you and Jason would make quite the pair. The golden girl and the bad boy? People live for stories like that.”

Everett sighed wistfully. “Just call me Ev, Rita, everyone does. But yeah, that’s what I’ve been telling her for years now, but so far to no avail. Perhaps she’ll listen to you.”

Lizzie was relieved when he immediately started laughing his words off. “I’m joking of course; Orion is right. The band is our job and our management wants us to keep things professional. There’s other ways to live the rockstar lifestyle,” he finished with a wink.

Rita pursed her lips in a knowing smile. “That I believe in a heartbeat. Fill me in guys, between us, how is it with the ladies? The bad guy with an angel’s voice and the soulful songwriter and his magic hands… you must be spoiled for choice.”

Everett grinned and leaned back against the sofa. “I can’t complain, is all I’m saying.”

“How about you Orion? Dark eyes, messy hair, all those tattoos - your fans must love this,” she winked with a sly smile, “At least I know where I would try to go after a show if I was a little younger.”

Lizzie tried very much not to roll her eyes.

“Even if they do, I wouldn’t know of it,” Orion answered serenely. “While I love all our fans dearly, my relationship with them ends when our show does.”

“So no stories behind your many tattoos? No tales of long lost love?”

“I didn’t say there are no stories,” Orion replied, “only that they have nothing to do with any fans of ours.”

Trying to steer the conversation to a less dangerous topic, he started explaining the stories behind some of the less meaningful tattoos on his wrists and arms. Lizzie knew each and every one of them by heart, the pictures as familiar to her as Orion’s smile when she ran her fingers over his painted skin.

What he didn’t mention was the biggest of his tattoos and her favourite one; the giant dreamcatcher running along the whole length of his back. Thinking about the intricate lines made a little smile appear on her face.

She didn’t even notice Rita asking her way through the rest of her friends until the reporter’s attention turned to her.

“All of your friends seem to be quite the fans of body art; what about you, Lizzie? Do you have any tattoos as well?”

Lizzie flashed Rita the brilliant but noncommittal smile reserved for the people she just couldn’t stand. “I do have one, yes.”

Rita raised an eyebrow when she didn’t continue. “And where might that be?”

Lizzie chuckled in response. “That will stay my little secret.”

Her gaze was fixed on Rita, but out of the corner of her eye she could see Orion fighting hard to suppress a grin. Of course, he knew exactly where it was.

Rita blinked, clearly irritated by her answer, the same empty smile that was on Lizzie’s face never leaving her red lips.

“Very well, keep your secret - for now. I’ll find out eventually.”

Her smile broadened, a dangerous glint shining in her eyes. “All secrets have their way of ending up with me, one way or another.”

Rita stood up from her armchair to get herself something to drink. When she turned her back on them, Lizzie slowly breathed out, relieved to have the blonde’s prying eyes taken off her.

As the others got up to leave the set as well, Orion and Lizzie’s eyes met for a moment. A smile was playing around his lips as they dropped to where her tattoo was hidden from everybody else’s sight.

She felt her lips curve into a smile of her own and she crossed her arms in front of her chest, her hand resting over the small spot on her ribcage where the words that resonated with her so much were inked into her skin. Seeing what she was doing, Orion couldn’t contain his grin any longer. Judging by the twinkle in his eyes, the memory of when he had first seen them was playing just as vividly in his mind as it did in hers.

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #rockstar au #orion amari #lizzie jameson #merula snye #skye parkin #when stars ignite #wsi #besties collaborate

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beewolfwrites · 3 years

Text

The Oar in the Sand - Chapter Four: Guessing Games

@cheshiya @tenseoyong @szallejhscorner @something-more-original-please @ofsunsetsandpoetries @nek0dzuken @allozaur @serenzippity

I’m sorry if there’s any typos or mistakes in this. Some chapters are just harder to write, and I end up repeating words over and over haha. If you spot any, do let me know!

As always, I’ll leave the AO3 link here. And I hope you like it!

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

The Latin alphabet.

The message could be written in any language from English to Spanish, Czech or even Latin itself.

It could mean anything.

Unlike An, Headband or Pigtails, I had the advantage, and I could still save us. Except I had no idea where to start, and the steady pressure of the game was already settling on my shoulders like a thick fog.

The Queen was smiling at me from the other gallows. I understood now, the way her eyes had lingered on me back in the reception. She probably hadn’t accounted for a foreigner to be here – after all, her game was intrinsically designed for native Japanese speakers. And yet that smile, the way the corners of her eyes crinkled ever so slightly; she was still confident.

And she should be. She already knows I can’t read morse code.

‘I don’t mean to rush you,’ said Pigtails, ‘but do you think you’ll be able to decode some of it?’ Her previous hope had wilted away, and she was now watching me with apprehension.

The message glared at me from the screen, nonsensical and confusing. The dots and dashes were swarming, melting into one dotted mass that darkened the room. My arms and legs felt detached, swinging from this noose like a doll. So many people had died. The teenage girl, the business man, Pink Scrunchie, countless players accused of being witches... I wasn’t able to save any of them.

And now, four more lives would be added to the list.

‘Stop panicking.’

I jumped at the sharpness of An’s voice. The dots and dashes returned to their screen. My hands and legs were still intact, still moving.

‘Take a deep breath and focus,’ she instructed.

Swallowing, I breathed in and out shakily. My chest felt hollow, and at the same time, it was crawling with jitters. ‘How can you be so calm? 何を知っている分からない.’ I don’t know what I’m doing.

‘Yes, you do. Chishiya brought you to the Beach for a reason.’

Chishiya?

That was why she trusted me?

I couldn’t hold back a bitter laugh; no matter how much I loved him, what he did at the Beach, the way he had almost betrayed me, it was still painful to think about.

‘違う.’ You’re wrong. I didn’t exactly have the vocabulary to explain properly, but I was sure they’d get the gist. ‘苣屋は私を使ってトランプの盗むしていた. それが唯一の理由だった.’ Chishiya was using me to steal the cards. That was the only reason.

An’s lips parted in surprise. Headband and Pigtails were whispering in low voices. I couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, but from their tones it was clear they didn’t think too highly of Chishiya.

‘So that’s what really happened,’ An muttered, filling in the rest of the blanks herself. ‘It was hard to believe Arisu could be capable of doing something like that.’ She shook her head slowly, processing the new information. ‘I suppose it no longer matters, since the Beach is gone now. But Chishiya still made a good decision bringing you to us. I’ve heard about your games, and I believe you’re more capable than you think.’

I remembered my conversation with Chishiya the day before the second stage, when he told me I would be good at Diamonds. Back then, he was wrong. Just looking at the dots and dashes on the screen, I knew this game was beyond me. And yet, it would be nothing more than a simple brainteaser for someone like him.

I wonder, what would he do? How would he approach this game?

I tried to picture his response to a morse code message. I tried to imagine his methods of breaking it down logically. But even so, it was impossible to understand how his brain worked. He was totally different to me. He was rational and analytical, able to uncover a solution to even the most complex situations. All I could do was notice things. I wasn’t Chishiya, nor would I ever be. And right now, was he wandering the streets looking for me? Probably not. Knowing him, he might have even gone straight to the Jack of Diamonds venue.

No. That can’t be true.

He cared. I knew that. I’d felt his fingers playing with my hair whenever I drifted in and out of sleep during the night. I’d witnessed that unreadable expression of his when he first saw the bruises Niragi left. I’d felt his hands tearing me away from the balcony edge when...

‘If we were in a game together, and say, someone pointed a gun at me, would you do that? As in, would you stand back and watch?’

‘I don’t know.’

My vision glassed over at the memory. Chishiya, you...

You liar.

I rubbed away the tears and tried to hold my chin up higher. ‘みんな、ごめんね. 今大丈夫.’ I’m sorry everyone. It’s okay now.

There were only fifty-two minutes left. The Queen, who had remained silent this whole time, was watching on with a vague, academic intrigue. Despite the pristine neatness of her olive suit and her black shoes, she was relaxed, raising her delicate eyebrows as I looked at her squarely.

‘You said before that you might be able to answer some of our questions, so I want to make a deal.’

‘What kind of deal?’ Her eyes glinted as if I’d just proposed a new game – as if I’d made this even more fun for her.

The drawing of the gallows was still waiting, empty, on the second screen. ‘If we figure out this message and clear the game, you have to answer my questions.’

She took the time to consider it. ‘I suppose that’s fair,’ she said. ‘One of us will die here, so it hardly matters anymore. It’s a deal.’

I’d said those same words to Chishiya, and I had no intention of breaking our promise here in this library. With a little more confidence now, I analysed the coded message closely. Normally in a game of Hangman, vowels were a first choice because of how often they were used. But we could only pick two.

What’s the most used vowel in the Latin alphabet?

Most people would assume it was A, but if I had to make a guess, I’d probably say E. Lots of languages with a Latin alphabet, like French, Spanish and Italian, used words like el, es, e, and est. But if E was the most common vowel, would that make it too obvious a choice?

I chanced a look at the Queen. She was smiling, not in a manipulative or secretive way, but as if she was quietly supporting us from the sidelines. It was peculiar. There was a chance she had purposely avoided E because of how often it was used, and I wouldn’t put it past her – she was still alive for a reason.

So what’s the second most common?

U was a no-go. Out of all the vowels it was definitely the least popular. A would be far too obvious as well. It would have to be a gamble between I and O. There were just forty-eight minutes left, and there was no time to waste hesitating between them.

Pick one, pick one.

‘If it’s okay with everyone,’ I said, ‘I’m going to choose O.’

Pigtails and Headbands looked unsure, most likely because I kept switching languages accidentally. On the other hand, An was open to the idea, replying only with, ‘I trust you.’

I held my breath, transfixed by the dots and dashes before us.

A number of Os appeared, scattered throughout the message; two in the first line, three in the second, four in the third, and one in the fourth. The drawing of the empty gallows remained unchanged.

We did it!

Beside me, Headband exhaled a sigh of relief and murmured a subdued thank you. Much to my surprise, however, the Queen didn’t seem disheartened by our small victory. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she looked pleased for us.

‘A good choice to start with, I must say.’ She clasped her hands together, resting them against her blazer. ‘Unfortunately, you’ve used up one of your vowels, but you seem like smart girls. I’m sure you’ll do well.’

How could she be so happy?

‘Isn’t this a bad thing for you?’ I asked. ‘Aren’t you worried?’

‘Should I be? There’s no good or bad,’ she countered, ‘just two perspectives.’

She’s a gamemaster, isn’t she? She set up these games, and she’ll die here if we win.

‘But we’re your enemy...’

She smiled warmly once more. ‘I think you’ll find we’re on the same side.’

On the same side? I didn’t understand. It didn’t make sense at all. ‘What do y—’

‘Don’t bother.’ An took off her sunglasses, openly assessing the Queen. ‘She’s intentionally wasting our time.’

She was right. The clock was now on forty-seven minutes, and the Queen seemed to be particularly skilled at raising more questions than she answered. I could interrogate her about all of this once we’d cleared the game – some things took priority. I focused my concentration on the code, trying to find some kind of hint or pattern there.

.-. .. -. --. / .- / .-. .. -. --. / O / .-. o ... . ...

.- / .--. o -.-. -.- . - / ..-. ..- .-.. .-.. / o ..-. / .--. o ... .. . ...

.- / - .. ... .... o o / .- / - .. ... .... o o

.-- . / .- .-.. .-.. / ..-. .- .-.. .-.. / -.. o .-- -.

From what I could see, the O in the first line was capitalised. It was a standalone word – usually that would mean the word was either archaic, or it was in another language. But the Os in the third line were even more curious. The morse symbols repeated themselves twice, with the Os hinting at what could only be either onomatopoeia, or again, archaic terminology.

‘What do you think?’ Pigtails asked.

My eyes scanned the repetitions in the third line. There was something off about it. Words didn’t usually repeat themselves twice in a row like that... unless they were poetic. It would certainly explain why the O was alone in the top line, and why this message was carefully constructed with line breaks in the first place.

If it’s poetry, I might have heard it before.

Headband perked up suddenly. ‘What about going with the most common characters?’

By characters, she must’ve meant letters. I still didn’t know what language the message was in, so I could only use the letters I knew rather than those with accents. Although, playing Hangman as a child, there were always certain letters that wielded the best chance of success.

‘Let’s go with M,’ I said at last. There was usually at least one hiding somewhere. The four of us looked at the screen in anticipation. My fists clenched at my sides as I willed for an M to appear in the mix.

The screen changed.

The wrong screen. A circle appeared below the noose in the drawing. The hangman now had a head.

I could feel the others looking at me, aware that they had put their trusted me and I had let them down. ‘I’m sorry...’ I told them. ‘I’m sorry. ごめん.’

A hand lightly squeezed my shoulder. ‘It’s okay,’ Headband said. ‘We’ve still got more tries.’

Pigtails stepped as close as the noose would allow. ‘This was going to happen at some point. And at least now we know which characters aren’t there. It narrows down the possible words.’

There was silence from An. Perhaps she was disappointed in me, or even regretting her decision to let me captain this game. I wouldn’t blame her if that was the case. I felt the same way, only my regret was stained with guilt too. If I couldn’t save the three of them, at least I would die too. At least I would get what I deserved.

I glanced up at the timer. Forty-five minutes until someone gets sent to the gallows. I couldn’t let it be them.

I can’t lose control of myself like this.

‘You’ve used up one of your ten consonants,’ the Queen reminded us, steady and composed as always. ‘As a word of advice, relying on an age-old strategy doesn’t necessarily work.’

Every time the Queen opened her mouth, she only confused me more. And judging from An’s response, I wasn’t the only one to feel that way. ‘Why should we listen to your advice? Our failure is your win.’

‘Maybe you shouldn’t,’ the Queen replied. ‘But I’ll leave it up to you to decide.’

She didn’t sound like she was purposely trying to mislead us, but that in itself could be what made it so misleading. Most people tend to gravitate towards common letters when playing Hangman – is that what she meant by an ‘age-old-strategy’?

In that case...

I took a deep breath. Maybe this was worth the risk. ‘I think we should try doing the opposite,’ I stated. ‘I think we should choose an uncommon letter.’ Realising I’d slipped between languages yet again, I tried to remember the words in Japanese. ‘逆が試みよう.’ Let’s try the opposite. ‘レアの文字.’ An uncommon letter.

The Queen could have purposely avoided using popular ones to throw us off. But if I was wrong, was it worth losing a turn? The bodiless head dangled from its noose on the other screen.

Only six chances left.

‘It’s worth a shot,’ said An.

Pigtails peered at us from the end of the platform. ‘Are you sure? We don’t have that many chances of guessing.’

I understood her hesitation. It felt like we were gambling with our lives, and I was the one calling the shots. And it was even worse for her as she was placing her life in someone else’s hands. ‘I know, わかてる,’ I tried to reassure her. ‘If it doesn’t work, we can try a different approach.’

Headband was twiddling her fingers again, although there was a hardness in her posture. A resolve to win. ‘It won’t be a waste, because we’ll know then that it’s the wrong strategy. I trust you two.’

It felt good to know they had my back, even if my previous attempt at guessing hadn’t worked. Maybe things would take a turn for the better? I exhaled slowly, trying to assemble the most unlikely letters. Q was definitely a contender. Z was again, too obvious, but X was hardly ever used because there were fewer words you could make with it. It was probably the most unlikely letter to appear in a game of Hangman.

Forty-three minutes ticked down to forty-two.

‘X.’

We waited with bated breath. Headband played with her fingers. Pigtails chewed on her lip. An clutched her sunglasses in both hands, her eyes locked on the message before us.

Please... please.

‘Relying on an age-old strategy doesn’t necessarily work.’

A black line appeared beneath the hangman’s head, his new body dangling from the noose.

#alice in borderland #chishiya #chishiya shuntaro #Chishiya x reader #chishiya x oc #chishiya alice in Borderland #Imawa no Kuni no Arisu #aib

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honey-dewey · 3 years

Text

Somewhere That’s Green

Pairing: Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels/Reader

Word Count: 3,220

Warnings: None

Jack’s always known his girlfriend was big in musical theater. He’s heard her practice, listened to her sing, and driven her to the theater more than once. But this is his first show of hers, and boy is he in for a shock. Between the on-stage kissing and the death of his girlfriend’s character, Jack Daniels has never been so invested in musical theater.

“And you’re sure you’re okay with missing work?” You asked, picking up your coat from Jack’s coat hook. “It’s a long show.”

Jack smiled, grabbing your waist and pulling you close to him. “Darlin’ I wouldn’t miss this show for anything. I’ve been waiting two months to see this play.”

You grinned, kissing him slowly, almost teasing. “Just promise not to murder my costars, okay?”

“And just why would I be murdering your coworkers?” Jack asked, keeping his arm around your waist as he walked you out to the parking lot.

Stepping into the parking lot and following the familiar trail to Jack’s car, you took a breath. “The show gets kinda dark. My character is abused by her sadistic boyfriend.”

“Oh.” You could hear Jack’s jaw tightening, hesitation filling your chest as you thought over inviting him to the show. Again.

“Babe,” you said softly, trying to console him. “If you want, I can introduce you to my co-star Alex who plays the character. He’s a sweetheart, I promise. Wouldn’t hurt a fly and y’know how Stevie is my best friend? Well, Alex is like the cool big brother I never had. He’d never even think about touching me. And he knows I’m totally off limits. Stevie does too.”

“Stevie’s the one who’s playing your nice fictional boyfriend?” Jack asked, opening the Bronco’s door and helping you up.

You laughed. “Yes. Stevie is the one who gets to kiss me on stage and his character isn’t a huge dick. Alex is my first fictional boyfriend, and Stevie and I get together halfway through the show. He gets to kiss me.”

Jack’s eyes darkened behind his sunglasses. “Does Alex kiss you?”

Reaching across the center console, you took Jack’s hand. “No. Alex does not get to kiss me.”

As Jack drove to the theater, you mulled over this decision. Since dating Jack, you’d done three musicals, but this one was your biggest and proudest role, as you’d finally managed to get the female lead in a musical after countless ensemble roles and smaller name characters.

“And what’s the show called again?” Jack asked, squeezing your hand.

You smiled, lifting his hand and pressing lazy kisses into his knuckles. “Little Shop of Horrors.”

Jack hummed, his face scrunching as he thought. “Ain’t that that movie with the crazed talking plant?”

“It was adapted from a musical,” you explained. “And then they redid the movie in the early 2000’s and put it back on Broadway.”

“Ah.” Jack turned to look at you as you pulled up to a red light. “I’m sure you’ll kill it. You got the voice of an angel.”

You smiled to yourself, the fate of your character entirely unknown to Jack. “I know I’ll kill it.”

Upon reaching the theater, you hopped out of the Bronco, looking at Jack. “Wanna meet Alex and Stevie? I think Yvette and Eva are here too, and I know for a fact Amber’s been here for an hour, at least.”

Jack shrugged. “Why not. I’ll go park, you go get your friends.”

You eagerly headed into the theater, practically jogging around as you looked for your costars.

“Eva!” You shouted happily, hugging Eva and seeing Amber around the corner. “Is Yvette here?”

“Nah,” Eva said, gesturing to the empty dressing room she shared with Yvette and Amber. “You know she always gets here at the last damn minute.”

“And she’s somehow always ready to go first,” Stevie said behind you, causing you to laugh and spin around to hug him. “Heya Auds!” He used the nickname he’d given you based on your character, causing you to punch him lightly.

“I want y’all to meet someone,” you said, walking towards the entrance, where you knew Jack was waiting. “Jack’s finally coming to see the show.”

“Ooooo,” Amber said, coming out of the costume closet. “We finally get to meet the mystery man!”

You waved them off, looking around for your final costar. “Where’s Alex? He didn’t call in tonight, did he?”

“Of course not,” Eva scoffed, drawing her coat closer around her. “He doesn’t call in unless he’s like, bleeding out.”

Laughing, you pushed open the door, seeing Jack leaning against the Bronco. “Jack!”

Jack drew closer, smiling and looking at your friends. “Alright. Who’s who?”

You introduced everyone, the chatter flowing easily until someone came up behind you, lifting you off your feet with a happy growl. “There’s my girl!”

“Alex!” You squealed, squirming and laughing. “Alex you absolute fuck! Put me down before Jack murders you!”

Alex put you down, grinning and holding out a hand to a very shocked Jack. “So you’re the mystery man our darling has been swooning over for the past three years. Nice to meet you.”

Jack shook his hand. “Their darling?” He asked you as you stood by his side.

“That’s what they always call the female lead,” you explained, tucking yourself under Jack’s arm. “Alex, Jack has promised not to kill you upon seeing the show, which is a damn relief because I don’t think we can do next year’s show without you.”

“What’s next year's show?” Jack asked, looking at you.

You shrugged. “I heard from the director that they were seriously considering School of Rock.”

Alex whistled. “Auds, that’s been a rumor for years now. They aren’t gonna do it.”

“Okay Dewey,” you said jokingly, reaching out to give Alex a light punch. “You wanna talk about people who were born to play certain roles? Alex is a spitting image of Broadway’s Dewey Finn,” you explained to Jack, who had gotten very lost very fast. “We’re all just waiting.”

“Oh, so you wanna talk about that, huh?” Stevie said, raising an eyebrow. “I swear that voice of yours is identical to Audrey’s.”

You flushed, checking your watch and looking up. “An hour,” you explained, extracting yourself from under Jack’s arm and heading back to the theater’s entrance. “I’ll see you after babe!”

Jack grabbed your hand, kissing you deeply and nipping ever so slightly at your earlobe as he murmured a teasing “break a leg darling,” into your ear.

“I like him,” Alex said, coming up behind you and smiling. “He’s good for you.”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing Alex’s white jacket out of the costume closet and handing it to him. “Go get dressed, dork. We can talk about my boyfriend later.”

Alex shrugged. “Just saying. You have my blessing.”

“I don’t need your blessing!” You called after him, seeing him disappear into his dressing room. “And where’s Jake?”

“Where he always is!”

You sighed, heading to your own dressing room and sitting down, beginning the long yet calming process of caking your face in stage makeup. It took forever and made your face feel heavy, but the results were worth it.

Eventually, by the half hour call, you were ready, having pretty much cemented your hair into beautifully picturesque curls and shimmied into the tight cheetah print dress that barely covered the tops of your thighs. Thank god you were able to wear tights.

You tossed a fluffy cream colored faux fur cropped jacket overtop your dress and adjusted your black heels. With your makeup and your sufficiently warmed up voice, you were entirely ready for the night.

Picking up a picture frame, you gave the glossy photo of Jack a kiss, slipping a worn out penny he’d given you when he’d first heard you did theater into your bra. It was a symbol of luck, and the magic would hopefully continue into tonight.

“Knock knock,” Alex said, knocking on your doorframe. “How’s the princess?”

“Good,” you said, raising your voice to get the perfect breathy innocence that was needed for the role. “How much time?”

Alex checked his watch. “Ten. I think the girls are on stage already, and Jake’s having his fun on the beams. Are you sure you’re ready?”

“Just nervous,” you mumbled, fiddling with the sleeve of your jacket. “I dunno what Jack’ll think.”

“Does he know the ending?”

“No.”

Alex whistled in a breath. “Damn. Ten bucks says he cries.”

You scoffed, slipping past Alex and smiling, your heels clicking on the worn out flooring. “Twenty!”

The opening of the show, as was the rest of it by now, was a familiar chaos to you. The fanfare that signaled the beginning spurred you and Alex to your places, tucked just outside of view but still able to see the show.

The ensemble and the girls rushed past, filling the stage and giving life to the purposefully worn down set. You craned yourself neck, heart swelling when you saw Jack, his hat off, sitting in the front row.

“Front row, fifth seat in, stage left,” you whispered to Alex, who nodded, spotting your boyfriend as well.

Stevie joined you at that moment, grinning as Alex told him where Jack was sitting. “He got a good seat, huh?” He said with a wink, sliding past you to take his place on stage.

As the second song started up, you adjusted yourself, tugging on your dress and asking Alex for help with your mic.

“Break a leg,” he said, watching you rush behind the set to the section that was your fake apartment.

At the cue, you opened the door, slipping out and beginning to sing. It was easy to lose yourself in the role now that everyone else was singing too. Stevie came out, singing his part as you sat weaved in and out of the ensemble members, climbing up a ladder to a fire escape on one of the building fronts. Leaning on the railing, you sang along with Stevie, spotting Jack beyond the stage lights and grinning as you finished out the song.

The next four songs went smoothly. You left the stage after the next one, when Stevie got his first solo song. Standing next to Alex, you checked your phone.

Jack: You’re amazing doll. Love the dress.

You smiled, slipping your phone back into your pocket. Stevie was, as usual, doing great on stage. Everything was running perfectly.

While the songs you weren’t really in ran in the background, you helped prepare the other sets. The apartment set you were about to use was ready to go by the time your first big song was about to start, and you walked back out on stage, reciting lines you’d memorized months ago. As the set turned, revealing the inside of the apartment, you began to sing.

The song was a nice one. Maybe a bit of strain on your voice as you pitched it upwards, but otherwise easy to sing. You poured a certain mournfulness into it, taking your jacket off and hanging it on the coat hook.

Every so often, you’d see Jack out of the corner of your eye, grinning like a lovesick fool at you. When the stage rotated again, showing you leaning out the small balcony, singing about your character’s dreams for a brighter future, you watched Jack carefully. His eyes never left you, winking when he realized you were watching him.

The song ended, the audience clapping as you slipped out, grabbing your coat on the way.

One quick change and bit of makeup adjusting later, you were cycling through another song. Nerves began to bundle in your stomach as the introduction of Alex’s character drew closer. You always drew a few gasps when he roughed you up, but it never made you this nervous.

Thankfully, it was a short scene, as the focus shifted to the introduction. His touch was always professional and careful, never actually harming you. You slipped off stage as his character began his song, settling down on a beat up old couch and loosening your shoes. You didn’t have to be on stage for a while, so you half listened to Alex and half focused on checking your phone. No texts from Jack.

“Hey hon.” Alex flopped onto the couch next to you, shocking you a bit. “C’mon.”

You quickly tighten your shoes, standing and taking Alex’s hand as he tugged you towards the stage for another small scene that you knew would make Jack’s jaw clench.

The scene was, yet again, not harmful. You moved in perfect tandem with Alex so neither of you got hurt, stumbling a bit as you walked off stage after only two minutes.

“You okay?” Alex asked, steadying you and checking your wrists where he’d grabbed you.

“Yep.”

“Everything good up in here?” He asked, knocking gently on your temple.

You smiled. “Haven’t been this nervous about a show in, gosh I don’t even know.”

“You’re doing amazing,” Alex promised, pulling you into a hug. “I’m sure he’d love it even if it all went to shit.”

You nodded, tightly hugging Alex back. “Yeah. He would.”

You two got ready for your final scene together, the one where he ‘hit’ you. The slap had been practiced until it was instinct, until it was a guarantee Alex’s hand would never even touch your face.

Watching the stage and slowly moving behind the set pieces, you bopped a bit to the song, looking up and seeing Jake having the absolute time of his life above your head, singing for the plant.

“Ready?” Alex asked, squeezing your hand.

You nodded, hearing the cue and starting your nervous babbling conversation with a shouting Alex, stumbling through the door and smiling at Stevie. “Hey Seymour! I left my sweater here before.”

Immediately, Alex followed you, still shouting. You couldn’t see Jack’s reaction when he called you a slut, or when he slapped you, your pitiful voice breaking as you and Alex headed off stage.

As soon as you were out of sight, Alex hugged you, murmuring the apology he always gave after that scene and heading off to act his death.

It was a favorite scene of yours, and you watched as Alex ‘died,’ unable to leave the scene until the lights went dark and he hurried off, Stevie taking a bag of fake limbs and grinning to you as the lights rose and he headed back out.

During intermission, you left the couch, allowing the girls to collapse into the frankly disgusting crease. Instead, you curled up in the oddest place that shouldn’t have been comfortable, the antique dentist’s chair from Alex’s scenes.

Which was where he found you, settled into the leather and adjusting your makeup. You were humming along to some music playing out your phone, carefully wiping away your black eye and touching up your foundation. “Good job. You absolutely murdered it.”

Alex smiled. “Thank you. Still nervous?”

“Nah.” You closed your makeup bag, spinning the chair lazily. “No more than usual now.”

You two just hung out, as usual, until the signaling music began to play. You shook yourself out, standing and smiling. “Halfway there!”

Alex laughed and took your place, grabbing a book.

You were significantly more involved in the second act, breezing through the first few songs, feeling an uncomfortable tingle of guilt in your stomach as you and Stevie kissed during the second song. It was an emotional scene that was immediately followed up by a murder. Not your murder. You weren’t set to die until later.

Of course, your next big scene was your death. You ran over the process in your head, just in case. Stevie would throw you into the giant plant puppet, and you’d slide past Jordan, who was the puppeteer inside, and out through a hole so you didn’t have to sit inside the cramped puppet.

However, you had to die first in probably the most heart wrenching scene in the play.

You walked out as Stevie walked in, alone on the stage aside from the plant. Sitting on the couch in your fake apartment, you began to sing, wandering over to the florist’s shop set and talking to Jake, who was still sitting above your head.

And then it all went to shit.

Jordan, inside the puppet, grabbed you with a vine, tugging you close as the song finished out, and you fake struggled as he pretended to eat you, the voice and the body working in perfect tandem as you got deep enough and struggled enough to open a buttoned up tear in your dress, smearing fake blood all over and making it truly seem like you’d been bitten, all without the audience knowing.

Stevie pulled you out, revealing the wound to the audience. He carefully set you down, going through the musical motions as you poured everything you had left into your final few minutes on stage. Your voice broke, the gentleness fading slowly as you did your best to imitate someone who was dying, actually starting to cry with your last line.

When the music swelled, Stevie wiped your tears and lifted you, slowly and gently placing you in the plant puppet and allowing Jordan to grab you and pull you in, helping you down and out the other side. Immediately, Alex helped you up, handing you a change of clothes and a pack of wet wipes. It was easy to remove the blood and toss the stained dress into the wash as soon as it was off. By the time the last plot important song was over, you were completely ready for the finale.

You were unable to spot Jack as you and Alex walked out together, singing one final time for the night and taking your bows. It was a giant group number, everyone happy and very much not dead. Jake came down, singing and throwing an arm over you and over Stevie, dragging you two forward to take the first bow.

Amidst the clapping and the people leaving and the actors heading off stage, you didn’t see Jack until he met you and Alex at the Bronco.

He scooped you up, laughing and firmly kissing you. “Holy shit babe! You couldn’t’ve told me that would happen at the end?”

You laughed, wiping tears off Jack’s face. “Alex! He’s crying!”

“Well fuck.” Alex leaned against the car, smiling. “Guess I owe you.”

Jack put you down, still holding you tight. “Y’all did good. I almost got up to smack you halfway through the show.”

You rolled your eyes, squeezing Jack’s hand. “I’m exhausted.”

“Alright,” Jack said, opening the Bronco’s door and helping you up. “Pleasure to meet you Alex.”

“Same,” Alex said, stepping back. “You be good to our girl, you hear?”

Jack snorted. “I will.”

The drive home was quiet. Now that the adrenaline of the show was gone, you felt limp, every part of your body in pain. Jack, the ever sweet and loving boyfriend, carried you inside, setting you down on the bathroom counter and grabbing your makeup wipes for you.

“Anything else?” He asked once you were done, cuddled up in your favorite pyjamas.

“Well,” you hummed, getting down and heading over to the bed. “I seem to be missing my boyfriend. C’mere.”

Jack, now eager, took his shirt off and crawled into the bed next to you, pulling you close. “You were amazing tonight, truly.”

“Thank you,” you murmured, already falling asleep.

“You’re welcome.” Jack shuffled so you’d be more comfortable, stroking softly up and down your back as you fell asleep properly, safe with the knowledge that Jack’s first musical theater experience had been a good one.

#kingsman the golden circle #kingsman #agent whiskey #jack 'whiskey' daniels #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #Pedro Pascal #My writing

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b-rainlet · 3 years

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ecco vs/+/or tetch ;). also if you want more alice vs/+/or jervis

This is so hard, why would you do this to me :D

Only Ecco/Jervis for now, this got way too long omg (Tetchcest will be published in a separate post)

(Also beware the stray Ecco/miah analysis that sneaked in there?? I just have lots of thoughts about Ecco lmao)

(Also also I managed to sneak Jerome in there ajsnsnsnd)

Okay, okay so Ecco vs. Jervis? Ecco wins, 100%.

Like, Ecco does her research. Before she met Jerome, she probably already gathered all the info she could get on his accomplices and how he managed to escape Arkham and the like and I feel like she would've been prepared for Jervis.

(In fact, I believe she only ended up hypnotized in the first place because both her and Miah were probably too sure of themselves? Like, they probably didn't consider that Jerome was planning on being taken so therefore Jervis and Jonathan could've simply waited around Ecco's apartment to follow her to Miah's hideout.

But just between us: The whole place is full of cameras and somehow Ecco opens the door to Jervis and Jonathan? I mean, does Miah have one of those speaker systems so Jervis was able to hypnotize her from the other side of the door? I think there was a little suspension of disbelief involved actually).

Anyway Jervis isn't skilled in hand to hand combat and spends his confrontations with Jim hiding behind hostages or siccing his puppets on him (or even Ecco as his accomplice in S5) so Ecco just needs to get close enough to get a good swing in.

And she'd probably be smart enough to carry/wear some earplugs around Jervis if she's planning on attacking him or if they're on hostile grounds with each other. (Because canonly speaking, I don't think he'd hypnotize her. They like each other too much, there no reason for him to do it -other than his desire to be with her romantically-)

(She may even go out of her way to pretend she's hypnotized to trick him and get close enough to knock him the fuck out or kill him, depending on what's her mission there).

Ecco + Jervis....well, we all know my standpoint there aksnsnsn.

I have rambled about this countless times, but maybe not in public so to make it brief, I'm just saying that Ecco is probably the perfect doll Jervis could ever envision.

Like, his - and Miah's - whole thing is control and Miah has expertly shown that he can control at least one person to the point they would willingly die for him without being outright hypnotized and that's big.

On one hand I think that would incline Jervis to work with Miah in the first place - because he recognizes his talent and Ecco is like this shiny little trophy Miah can show off like 'Look what I accomplished, look how powerful I can be'.

And on the other I feel like how Ecco behaves around Miah and is loyal to him is exactly how Jervis wanted his relationship with Alice to be and once again, Miah didn't hypnotize Ecco.

She's doing all this without being forced and Jervis is fucking fascinated by that. He wants her. He wants her to be willing to die for him. He wants her to belong completely and utterly to him alone so he's the one who can show her off and have someone be loving and loyal without the added empty eyes blankly staring at him, expecting the next orders.

(Also I think he likes to paint himself as a gentleman and romantic, so he'd make it this whole show of how lovely Ecco isn't treated right and he would treat her like a princess obviously, completely disregarding the fact that she's really only valuable to him because Miah treated her so lowly and hurt and abused her because that's what made her so loyal. And if need be, he's gonna pick up some of Miah's methods to keep her in line. Only out of love though).

But I do also think that Jervis would see pre-gas and bullet Ecco as a powerful asset to the league and we have seen them get along greatly so if Ecco had more autonomy, he'd definitely treat her like an equal (like he treats Jerome or Jonathan) and he definitely values how she's similar to Jerome but that's a whole other rant.

(Also....he's hot. She's hot. I like them both. Why not like them while they smooch and Jervis gets handsy enough Ecco has to swat his hands away).

One more rambly thing while I'm at it tho:

I think it's very important for Miah and his influence within Gotham to have Ecco at his side.

I mean, not only does she do everything, from recruiting the Maniax to turning Jeremiah into a godlike figure, a messiah to be worshipped, to working with his allies and fighting his enemies, no, she's also his only 'proof' of his power so to say.

I mean, by the time S5 rolls around he does have a reputation among the citizens of Gotham but the villains? I think it's important for him to have Ecco around so he can show off how he can be cunning enough to get people on his side + as a way of threatening them by showing them how cruel he can be (which can range from stuff like using Ecco as his foot rest to outright slapping/choking her in front of people and have her thanking him for it).

If he doesn't have Ecco anymore, not only does he lose his right hand woman, he pretty much loses all his connection to his followers and the villains he worked with and it's gonna be a blow to his status as feared villain because the one who's actually a threat is gone, plus he can't use her to seem more imposing by bossing her around.

Someone has made the argument before that Miah's shit at captivating people through his words and persona (since Ecco draws them in and the moment he's alone with the maniax he loses them and has to burn them alive before they turn on him)-

-*cough cough* Jerome/Ecco parallels *cough cough*-

-so I think it's safe to say that killing her off may have been one of the stupidest decisions he's ever made. And not just because I like her.

He's never gonna find somebody he can manipulate to that point again because unless he plays the long con and really dedicates himself to it (which I think he's too impatient to do after the gas, he freely rolls his eyes at Ecco when he's annoyed with her, I don't think he's patient enough to play the dotting and loving partner for months to get his new Harley to the point she'd shoot herself for him), no one's gonna fall for him.

Jerome? Jerome could easily aquire a Harley and he'd just as easily keep her (mostly because he'd see her as a powerful asset rather than a mindless bimbo to worship him) but Miah? Nah.

He may have the role of helpless victim down but now that he's known as a villain it's gonna be harder to pull off and lure somebody in.

His safest bet would be kidnapping a kid tbh, -not that I ever thought about him kidnapping Barbara Lee, noooo-

Anyways, other fish in the sea? Miah can be lucky the villains still work with him without Ecco present as a mediator, finding a new girl to replace her is gonna be impossible.

(And ohhhh, the deliciousness of a fic where Miah realizes just that but still alive Ecco - because she's always alive, safe for two wips of mine - doesn't wanna go back to him, yeeeeesssss).

Ecco or Jervis?

Well, I don't think anyone's gonna be surprised when I go with Ecco here :D

I mean, I love Jervis and I love the storyline of Alice/Jervis and how neatly it ties into S3 but Ecco is my sweetheart and my baby and can possibly only be topped by Jerome.

-quite literally-

Because while I adore Ecco, canonly speaking there's not much there, I just decided I wanted it to be that deep whereas Jerome has a lot of canon interactions with people and a super interesting storyline, plus a complex familial situation and just...like, not to bash on Miah but he has the perfect set up to be the Joker because he's been around since S1 and him and Bruce have an actual relationship that evolves over time and he has allies he actually gets along with and he's had at least one scene with most of the mains and backstory with most of the mains and it's just so good.

Like....if they'd introduced Ecco independently from Miah just to give Jerome a Harley, I think that would've actually been my dream come true.

(But they couldn't give him a Harley because apparently their definition of Joker/Harley is 'abusive' and it would've been super ooc to suddenly have Jerome run around choking girls into submissions and shooting them so they're not better than him when he's canonly into women who could kick his ass and values them as potential allies (Bridget)).

#There's a lot of thoughts inside of me regarding Ecco/Jervis #And Ecco and Jerome and their parallels #But also Jerome vs Jeremiah in the sense of who is 'better'#Or at least has the better storyline #Anyway #Have this #ecco #It's ecco centric enough to earn the tag #OTP: Tea Party #Also yes I am not chill enough to answer ask games casually I gotta make it something that takes an hour to write #Long post

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frenchbreads-writing · 4 years

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Hi! Just wanted to start by saying I love your writing! I was wondering if you'd be fine in either a second half to Enji Todoroki (Unexpected Reunion) or a one shot where Endeavor saves his male s/o from a villain? :3

My Hero {Endeavor x Male Reader}

Thank you so much I’m glad you like it!!

I was planning on Making a second part to Unexpected reunion a little later in the future so that will have to wait sorry😊

(The keep reading button won’t go where i want it to I hope you don’t mind😅)

I hope you enjoy!✨

Pairing: Enji Todoroki x Male Reader

Word count: 1.2k (1,274)

Warnings: Hospitals, blood, broken bones, concussions, feelings

Requests: Open

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You’ve done this countless times, rushing into battle, fighting villains and coming out on top, every time with just some scrapes and bruises nothing serious.

That led you to become cocky, using your Speed quirk to draw out fights longer than they should, taunting the villains, and cutting it close with dodging attacks.

Maybe it was the adrenaline or maybe the attention you got from the media as “The Daredevil Hero” whatever it was, let to this moment.

You stumbled upon a villain causing a scene with some newer low-level heroes trying to contain the situation but it was obvious it wasn’t working so that’s where you come in. Rushing over to steal the attention away from the newbies, now you have all eyes on you.

Smiling you did what you always did laughing at the villain for missing and running circles around him, but the villain heard about how you acted and he wasn’t having any of it.

He missed another attack and you paused to laugh.

“Is that all you got because this will be over quicker than I thought.”

As soon as you said that a cracking sound caught your attention.

A large chunk of concrete fell on the spot you were just standing and before you could recover from your sloppy dodge, the villain took advantage of your distraction managing to land a hit on you.

You were a pro so you’ve taken worse hits than that but the villain gave you no time to recover, grabbing you by the leg he threw you around like a rag doll not letting you have a single moment to make a plan and just attacking.

That went on until you landed hard onto your back, you could feel blood trickle from your nose and you knew that a few ribs were broken from your landing.

You had a job so you tried to sit up so you can fight, body screaming in protest as you did. You managed to sit up in time to see the villain getting ready to attack, there was no way you could dodge so you closed your eyes and braced yourself.

Until you felt a burst of heat rush past you, your eyes flew open in time to see the villain being handled by your boyfriend, the one and only Endeavor.

Knowing that the situation was under control and the civilians were safe, you closed your eyes and let the black dots and exhaustion take over.

The feeling of a headache and your body aching woke you up and the sound of beeping was the first thing you heard, then the overpowering smell of chemicals assaulted your nostrils. Opening your eyes the light just made your headache worse.

Taking a deep breath you sat up. You were in the hospital, that much was obvious, it was the most dreadful place imaginable for you, being all about movement and speed being stuck in a hospital bed was torture.

You looked over yourself seeing your left leg and right arm in casts, the rest of your body and head wrapped tightly in bandages.

Looking to the left saw a few flowers and get well cards from your friends on the small table, you smiled but frowned slightly and let out a sigh when you saw nothing from Enji.

Groaning you reach over to the call nurse button and pressed it. A few moments later a small woman rushed into the room quickly greeting you and checking over your injuries before grabbing the clipboard from the foot of your bed.

“Okay Mr.(L/N) it says here that you have several fractures in your left leg, your radius and wrist are broken in your right arm.”

She flipped the page and continued.

“Several of your ribs are broken and you suffer from a severe concussion.”

You winced, that was a LOT of injuries.

“That means you will have to take medication and will also be required to take a minimum of 6 months to allow your broken bones and concussion to heal so no hero work until then.”

Your eyes widened in disbelief “Six months?!”

‘I can’t sit still for six months I’ll go insane.’

You looked at her with a pleading look “C-can’t you ask recovery girl to just do me a solid and heal me just so I’m not out for that long?!”

She smiled at you apologetically. “I’m sorry but she’s the one who requested that you take the entire time to rest and heal.”

You groaned and leaned back into the bed.

“You also have a visitor if you’re ready.”

You sighed and nodded she smiled and walked out of the room, a few minutes later a knock sounded from the door.

You looked up to see the one person you wanted to see, Enji.

A smile broke out on your face and you lifted your not broken arm motioning him to hug you. He walked up to your bed and sat down in the chair ignoring your invitation.

“Enji, you saved me!” You cheered.

He glared at you and flicked you in the forehead, making you cry out.

“You idiot, if I hadn’t been there who knows what would’ve happened!”

Your smile you had started to fade away as he continued.

“Those civilians could’ve been hurt and the villain would’ve run rampant causing even more damage because you chose to act like a child and mess around!”

You looked away, ashamed and feeling worse tears welling up in your eyes, it was your fault that you got hurt, you knew that from the beginning but you hoped that you could forget about it since the day was saved.

You were about to keep thinking that way until Enji started speaking again.

“And most importantly, you got hurt and I wasn’t there to protect you!”

He leaned forward and hugged you, burying his face into your shoulder while making sure not to squeeze too tight so he didn’t hurt you.

“Do you know how frightened I was when I got to the hospital and you were unconscious, bloody, and barely breathing?!”

You began to feel something wet on your shoulder, he was crying.

He pulled away and cupped your face in his hands and pressed your foreheads together looking into your (e/c) orbs.

“You are the one good thing that has come into my life, so please promise me you won’t do something so idiotic and reckless like that again because I don’t think I could handle if I lost you too.”

You were stunned, you had expected him to be angry and scold you so you weren’t too shocked about, but you didn’t expect him to start crying.

You swallowed thickly and nodded, he stared for a moment longer before placing a soft kiss to the corner of your lips, muttering a soft “You better.” before pressing your lips together in a deep kiss.

when you broke away he straightened up and cleared his throat as he wiped his tears away, blush spread over his face.

“I have to go now, I will be back later tonight to have you released, You will be staying with me so I can keep an eye on your recovery.”

he stood from his chair and walked away but before he went through the door he turned towards you.

“I love you”

He then proceeded to rush out of the room before he could see the warm soft smile appear on your face.

“I love you too, Enji.

You lied back into the bed, ignoring the sting from your ribs and sighed as you closed your eyes.

“My Hero.”

#frenchbread's writing #Enji x reader #todoroki enji #todoroki enji x male reader #enji x male reader #x male reader #male reader #x reader #request #requests open #bnha x reader #bnha x male reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #endeavor #endeavor x male reader #endeavor x reader #FBW My Hero

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how-masterful · 4 years

Text

Despite It All

Dhawan!master x reader

Summary: When your new collar isn't all that you’d hoped for, you go to the Master for some much needed assistance. You soon find hes more than willing to help, and learn for yourself just how much your happiness means to the time lord.

Notes: A fic for the ever so fabulous @plethora-of-imagines , who’s been the most patient person I've met for waiting for this one to come out! i hope you enjoy and it lives up to what you’d thought!

Warnings: Mentions of collars and BDSM practices.

The collar hurt. Alot.

It rubbed harshly against your throat, tough leather digging into the sides of your neck and almost drawing blood when you swallowed. The thick metal buckle rubbed abrasively against the back of your neck, leaving a deep indent in your skin. In short, it was an utter pain to wear. And you felt slightly responsible.

You'd chosen it while you were on a distant planet, after dragging the Master into a secluded sex shop and begging for a souvenir collar to commemorate his latest victory. It was thick and sturdy, embroidered with purple threads and hefty enough to provide a new thrill to a scene. It was expensive too, and you'd batted your eyelashes and promised a session to him when you got back to the TARDIS as soon as he looked at the price.

However, you were also very, very spoilt- and the collar, having lived up to Master's standards, was instantly yours.

So, after all that begging, the fact it was absolute hell to wear made you feel insanely guilty. But you'd faced this situation before.

Collars were trial and error, when not custom made by the Master. They could be too loose or too thin, resulting in real dangers emerging during play. They could simply not live up to the standards you'd held it to when you bought it- of course you made everything look beautiful to him, but on the shelf and on the neck were two very different things. And other times, Master just didn't like them. And that would kill any hope for adding it to your collection.

However, when they'd hurt, it became a much more serious issue. Especially if you refused to tell him. Past situations had resulted in several offending collars being flung in a rage into a supernova, countless tears from you as the ointment he'd provide stung your wounds, and the full brunt of his disappointed eyes causing you to absolutely crumble under the weight. So this time, you decided to be honest. But the notion still petrified you.

"Master?"

You'd found him in the kitchen, placing two teabags into your favourite mugs and filling up the kettle. He'd turned in surprise at your voice, eyes softening as you padded over to his side.

"Now there she is, Masters good girl- looking beautiful in her new collar"

You smiled weakly, a bite of embarrassment nipping at your bottom lip. You gently snaked your hand up to his bicep, encircling his bicep and letting your head fall to his shoulder. The Master raised an eyebrow, abandoning the tea on the side.

"Are you alright, love? I just called you my good girl and complimented, all you in one sentence- and yet you're still able to stand on your own. Something must be wrong in the world of Y/N."

You sighed, smiling weakly into his shirt. Of course he knew you this well by now, he'd had years of practice to get your behaviour down to a T. He slowly cupped your chin, guiding your eyes to meet his. His expression was laced with confusion and concern, eyes scanning over you for any sign of distress.

"Well?"

This was something you could show him better, rather than tell him- you'd decided that on your way to find him. You simply allowed your hand to fall to his own, entangling your fingers in his own before guiding him wordlessly towards the playroom. The Master's eyes widened, before his expression settled into something content.

"Ah! Desperate for a session, are we doll?"

You shook your head and squeezed his hand, carefully opening the door. The lights snapped on with a gentle hum as you guided him to sit beside you on the end of the bed, the very confused Master taking your other hand into his own and brushing his thumbs over your knuckles. You took a breath, before allowing yourself to meet his eager browns. God, this was going to be harder than you thought.

"So... Um... You know how much I appreciate everything you do for me, right?"

"Of course" The Master replied, nodding his head as you took another breath.

"And... You also know how much I appreciate everything you get for me, right?"

"Yes... I'm not sure where this is going." He replied again. The Master's eyes narrowed as he pulled his head back, suspicious gaze raking over you once more. You shrunk in on yourself slightly, gulping at his judgemental expression.

"And... I can tell you anything- Even if it's something you may get annoyed at me for?"

The time lords eyes shot back open wide, hand pulling from your linked fingers to hold the side of your cheek. You instantly lent into his touch, desperate for the grounding connection.

"Always- whats this all about, love? Somethings not upsetting you is it?"

"No!" You blurted out, a little too quickly for his taste. The suspicion grew further upon his face, causing your hands to tremble more and more. You shook your head and tried to regain any composure you could grasp hold of.

"No, I mean... Not upsetting, per say but... hurting."

The Master's expression grew soft, the other hand reaching towards your face as you nervously played with your own hands in your lap. He looked troubled, but most definitely not with you, and the guilt once again began to ravage rapidly at your core.

"Somethings hurting you? Is it something I said? Y/N, you know I don’t ever mean you when I insult the human species-"

You laughed. Of course he'd be concerned about that. He was always so protective over you, he never enjoyed considering you as a part of the utterly detestable human crowd. His expression morphed back into a look of confusion, lips pursed to ask another flurry of questions, but you silenced him with a small peck.

"No, you haven't said anything that’s made me feel like anything less than a goddess. Its... The collar. Not the fact I wear one, i'd rather die than not, but this one. This collar. It... Hurts."

It felt as if the weight had been utterly ripped from your shoulders. You let them drop, sighing happily as you relished in the free feeling inside your chest. You met the Master's eyes once more, but the look of concern that plastered itself across his face didn't do much to calm the rest of your nerves.

You felt your heart began to race as you explained why.

"It rubs, for a start. Its far too tight and cuts in more than it doesn't, the buckle digs in when I breathe and it's left my neck stiff as anything."

His expression didn't change, causing the guilt to ramp up its ravenous speed with a vengeance. You quickly rushed to cover your back, heart thundering against your chest as you began to trip on your words.

"Not that I don’t like it, I mean I don't like it 'cause it hurts but I love it cause its pretty and you bought it as a gift and, and I know it cost you so much and I'm so so grateful for it and I don’t want you to think i'm not... i’m sorry I shouldn't have bothered i'll learn to deal with it I-"

You were suddenly silenced by a kiss, the Masters lips connecting with yours like a rolling cloud of calm. The tension melted from your shoulders as you allowed yourself to let go, his hands delicately framing your face as his lips dimmed the chaos bubbling in your gut. Your eyes fluttered shut as you eventually parted, his lips leaving your own looking glossy and plump.

"You will most certainly not have to deal with anything hurting you. Master's so proud of you for coming to tell him- Its his job to ensure his good girl is always cared for and comfortable. And who are you?"

A sudden blush spread itself across your cheeks, your gaze turning bashful as you tried to hide your growing smile.

"I'm Master's good girl."

"Yes you are."

The Master placed a sweet kiss to the top of your forehead, arms encapsulating your shoulders and pulling you close to his chest. You sighed happily, nuzzling into his bare neck and teasing it with kisses.

He grinned, a chill trailing down his spine he gently booped the end of your nose.

"That’s sweet, pet. It really is. But it's your neck we really should be focusing on. You know what to do now, don't you doll? Off you go."

You giggled with anticipation as you pulled yourself from the Master's grip and headed towards the cabinet of drawers. The large, dark cabinet stood at the side of the room, ornate and decorated with engraved Gallifreyan and several handles. This however, wasn't any ordinary set of drawers. This was the home for your collars. And, over the years, you'd accumulated quite the expansive collection.

You instantly fell into position: hair tied out of the way behind your head, neck exposed and chin up high, form kneeling on the floor with your hands poised on your knees. This was the position he enjoyed you in when dealing with your collars- you took it when he adjusted it, decorated you with it, or decided to change it out for one of your other many designs.

You had quite the plethora of sizes and colours- thin silver bands for subtlety, thick red posture collars for a scene, and a whole other rainbow of designs that could fit any mood you desired. Or, more often than not, what Master desired you wear.

The Master threw his coat from his shoulders, allowing it to fall onto the bed as he began to roll up the sleeves of his shirt. The sight almost made you drool, his exposed forearms a positively dreamy sight to you. Every single part of had the the power to make you ridiculously desperate for him- he jokingly called it his superpower when you'd almost fainted at the reveal of his soft stomach one evening.

"Excited, are we love? I can't tell what makes you happier: that collar being replaced for something much more suitable, or the sight of me slightly undressed."

You cheekily avoided his gaze as he advanced towards the unit of drawers, pulling at one of the handles and peeking inside at its contents.

"Now then, what shall we go for? We want comfort, something to keep that poor neck of yours from feeling so sore."

He mulled over the designs, fingers dancing in the air as he picked and chose between them. You awaited his decision eagerly, this was always on of your favourite parts of the process: Knowing what Master had in store for you. He always did like a surprise.

"I know... Lets go with you. I've noticed this ones been sneaking up the ranks of your favourites, lately- You can't say Master's not attentive with you, darling."

Ever so gently the collar was removed from the drawer, buckle jingling as he played with the strip of leather. It was a dark purple, padded with golden velvet and ornately decorated with swirling circular Gallifreyan, the intricate shapes all spelling out the word "Master". You nodded excitedly, smile creeping up your cheeks as he showed you the item in his hands.

"What do we say, love?"

"Thank you, Master."

"Good girl."

With a satisfied huff the Master shut the drawer, before adjusting himself to kneel on one knee before you. He allowed two fingers to slip under your chin, lifting your gaze to meet his own as he placed the collar in your lap.

"You know how this works, pet: That ones got to come off for this one to go on. You wont go long without one, Master promises. Are you ready?"

The nod you gave couldn't have been more eager.

"Yes, Master."

You kept your chin raised as the masters hands tenderly reached to the back of your neck, fingers carefully unbuckling the silver clasp and ever so slowly pulling the collar from your neck. You gasped loudly, out of a culmination of both shock and fear, the sudden cold air hitting your neck combining with the relief placed on your skin.

Being without your collar was a nightmarish thought- you'd grown highly attached to the idea of wearing one, displaying the fact you were taken and claimed by the Master for the world to see. It was a symbol of him committing himself to you. Essentially like a wedding ring. But this was much more personal, and the moments during a change in which your neck fell bare never failed to stand your hair on end.

The Master paused, fingers poised on the ends of the collar, keeping the front of the material pressed against the skin of your neck. You gulped, allowing your thoughts to gather, before giving him a slow nod. That was enough for him to continue pulling the material from your neck, and soon the collar was laying in his hands.

You knew for a fact when this was over, the dreaded thing would be flung at full force into the nearest supernova. He had a habit of flirting things that displeased him into the vast emptiness of space. It was his favourite method of waste disposal- or at least, what the Master classed as waste. You were more than sure there were more than a few TCE victims floating out there, somewhere- you'd seen him throw them out one by one yourself.

Before you could even react to the sensation of an absent collar the Masters lips were on you, murmuring praise and pressing kisses into every part of your neck. You sighed against his touch, the typical fear of sitting collarless masked with the glorious attention.

"Good girl" he murmured, placing a tender peck to a reddening area of skin, causing you to involuntarily shiver.

"Such a good girl for telling Master... Following his rules and making him so very happy..."

You bit your lip and held back a moan of delight, eyes fluttering shut as you felt the wave of pleasure wash over you once more. His breath was warm against the tender skin, soft lips pressing over each and every mark. You gasped even louder as the master slowly began creating a mark of his own, teeth nipping at the clear skin on the side of your neck. Your teeth grit together and you groaned at the sensation, the old collar slipping forgotten from his hands as they reached for the new item.

You felt your heart beat flutter excitedly. It was finally time.

With a soft peck to the underside of your jaw the Master pulled away, clasping the purple collar in his hands and raising the item to your neck. You lent forward against the plush gold velvet, eager to feel the material against your skin and the newly blossoming bruise on the side of your neck.

The velvet was soft, sliding against your throat with absolute ease. You felt comfortable in this collar, a far cry from the harsh friction of the other one you had worn. A small jingle from the metal clasp sounded behind your head, causing you to giggle with relief. Finally, comfort and security. You couldn't be more ecstatic.

"Let me know when its tight enough" the Master softly asked, a rare tenderness held within his tone. You knew for a fact he only used that voice with you.

The tighter the collar became around your neck, the more your satisfaction grew. Once it reached a suitable tightness around your throat you let out a happy squeak, the buckle soon being locked into place by the Master's nimble fingers. The sensation around your neck was miles above the previous collar, the comforting padding gentle against the aggravated skin, the golden stitching almost glowing against the purple.

This was a collar Master had commissioned for you as a reward several months ago, and it now sat amongst your most favourite. The Master could see the joy in your eyes and couldn't help but smile, framing your face with his hands once more.

"There, Masters precious human looks good as new. Comfy now, doll?"

"Perfect. Thank you, Master."

"Good girl. C'mere."

At his words, you instantly dove into the masters chest, his arms winding around your shoulders as your nose found comfort in the crook of his neck. The Master's fingers wandered to your tied up hair, soon releasing it to flow free and casting the hair tie to the side. He began to toy with the ends, chuckling at your immediate shiver. You nestled closer against the time lords chest.

"Thank you, Master. For caring about me." You murmured, lips soft against his collar.

He hummed out a comforting sound, arms holding you more firmly in his grip.

"Any time, pet. Come rain or shine, Master will always be there to care for you. Lets say its become a favourite hobby of his to see you satisfied."

You returned a small laugh, pulling away slightly to catch his fond gaze.

"Careful, Master. Keep talking like that and people will start to think you actually like humans."

The Master rolled his eyes, smirking down at your cheeky expression and shaking his head.

"Don’t get any ideas, doll- I don't and I never will. They're boring and primitive and far too important to the Doctor than they reasonably should be. However, there is one... one very unique human that i've taken quite the fancy too. A sweet little thing called Y/N."

The blush that scurried over your cheeks was down right traitorous.

"Why? What makes this Y/N so different from the rest?"

The Master pondered for a moment, drumming his fingers against your shoulders in thought.

"Well... She's pretty. Very, very pretty. A sweetheart at first glance, but laced with a very tempting and exciting dark side. She's funny, resourceful, loving and intelligent- And quite possibly the most cuddle obsessed creature i've ever met in my many, many lives."

You let out a bashful giggle. You didn't think your heart could race any faster in the presence of the time lord holding you, but you could've sworn you felt it skipping beat after amorous beat.

"And is that why you love her?" You asked, tilt your head get a better view of the Masters face.

The time lord shook his head once more with a grin, his hand reaching to cup your cheek, stroking away the flyaway hairs as he pulled your face closer to his own. You sighed contently, his eyes so full of fondness for you. If the Masters face was the last thing you could ever see in your lifetime, you knew deep down you wouldn't have it any other way.

"No, all those are the reasons I like her. Despite the man that I've become, the things I've done and the people I've hurt, she still calls me her Master. Commitment like that is a beautiful rarity. She stays by my side no matter what, but isn't afraid to speak her pretty little mind. You want to know why I love her?"

The Master placed a gentle kiss to your forehead, a small, sweet little peck that said so much, and made the butterflies in your stomach swarm with absolute adoration.

"I love her because despite it all, I get to call her mine."

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#sacha dhawan #The Master #dhawan!master #dhawan!master x reader #dhawan!master / reader #Sacha!Master #fanfiction #fanfic #x reader #the master x you #master x reader #the master x reader #self insert #doctor who #bbc #BBC Doctor Who #dw

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shiredded · 4 years

Text

A white animation student’s take on Soul and POC cartoons

This got long but there’s lots of pretty pictures to go with it.

Hi, I’m Shire and I’m as white as a ripped-off Pegasus prancing on a stolen van. Feel free to add to my post, especially if you are poc. The next generation of animators needs your voice now more than ever.

My opinion doesn’t matter as much here because I’m not part of the people being represented.

But I am part of the people to whom this film is marketed, and as the market, I think I should be Very Aware of what media does to me.

And as the future of animation, I need to do something with what I know.

I am very white. I have blue eyes and long blond hair. I’ve seen countless protagonists, love interests, moms, and daughters that look like me. If I saw an animated character that looks like me turn into a creature for the majority of a movie, I would cheer. Bring it on! I have plenty of other representation that tells me I’m great just the way I am, and I don’t need to change to be likable.

The moment Soul’s premise was released, many people of color expressed mistrust and disappointment on social media. Let me catch you up on the plot according to the new (march 2020) trailer. (It’s one of those dumb modern trailers that tells you the entire plot of the movie including the climax; so I recommend only watching half of it)

Our protagonist, Joe Gardner, has a rich (not in the monetary sense) and beautiful life. He has dreams! He wants to join a jazz band! So far his life looks, to me, comforting, amazing, heartfelt, and real. I’m excited to learn about his family and his music.

Some Whoknowswhat happens, and he enters a dimension where everyone, himself included, is represented by glowing, blue, vaguely humanoid creatures. They’re adorable! But they sure as heck aren’t brown. The most common response seems to be dread at the idea of the brown human protagonist spending the majority of his screen time as a not-brown, not-human creature.

The latest trailer definitely makes that look pretty darn true. He does spend most of the narrative - chronologically - as a blob.

but

That isn’t the same as his screen time.

From the look of the trailer, Joe and his not-yet-born-but-already-tired-of-life soul companion tour Joe’s story in all of its brown-skinned, human-shaped, life-loving glory. The movie is about life, not about magic beans that sing and dance about burping (though I won’t be surprised if that happens too.)

Basically! My conclusion is “it’s not as bad as it looked at first, and it looks like a wonderful story.”

but

That doesn’t mean it’s ok.

Yes, Soul is probably going to be a really important and heartfelt story about life, the goods, the bads, the dreams, and the bonds. That story uses a fun medium to view that life; using bright, candy-bowl colors and a made-up world to draw kids in with their parents trailing behind.

It’s a great story and there’s no reason to not create a black man for the lead role. There’s no reason not to give this story to people of color. It’s not a white story. This is great!

Except...

we’ve kind of

done this

a lot

The Book of Life and Coco also trade in their brown-skinned cast for a no-skinned cast, but I don’t know enough about Mexican culture to say those are bad and I haven't picked up on much pushback to those. There’s more nuance there, I think.

I cut the above pics together to show how the entire ensemble changes along with the protagonist. We can lose entire casts of poc. Emperor's New Groove keeps its cast as mostly human so at least we have Pacha

And while the animals they interact with might be poc-coded, there’s nothing very special or affirming about “animals of color.”

So, Soul.

Are we looking at the same thing here?

It’s no secret by now that this is an emerging pattern in animation. But not all poc-starring animated films have this same problem. We have Moana! With deuteragonists (basically co-protagonists) of color, heck yeah.

Aladdin... Pocahontas... The respect those films have for their depicted culture is... an essay for another time. Mulan fits here too. the titular characters’ costars are either white, or blue, and/or straight up animals. But hey, they don’t turn into animals, and neither do the supporting cast/love interests.

Dreamworks’ Home (2015) is also worth mentioning as a poc-led film where the deuteragonist is kind of a purple blob. But the thing I like a lot about Home is that it’s A Nice Story, where there’s no reason for the protagonist to not be poc, so she is poc. Spiderverse has a black lead with a white (or masked, or animal) supporting cast. But, spiderverse also has Miles’ dad, mom, uncle, and Penny Parker.

I’d like to see more of that.

And less of this

if you’re still having trouble seeing why this is a big deal, let’s try a little what-if scenario.

This goes out to my fellow white girls (including LGBTA white girls, we are not immune to propaganda racism)

imagine for a second you live in a world where animation is dominated to the point of almost total saturation by protagonist after protagonist who are boys/men. You do get the occasional woman-led film, but maybe pretend that 30 to 40 percent of those films are like

(We’re pretending for a second that Queen Eleanor was the protagonist, because I couldn’t think of any animated movies where the white lady protagonist turns into and stays an animal for the majority of the film)

Or, white boys and men, how would you feel if your most popular and marketable representation was this?

Speaking of gender representation, binary trans and especially nonbinary trans people are hard pressed to find representation of who they are without the added twist of Lizard tails or horns and the hand-waving explanation of “this species doesn’t do gender” But again, that’s a different essay.

Let’s look at what we do have. In reality, we (white people) have so much representation that having a fun twist where we spend most of the movie seeing that person in glimpses between colorful, glittering felt characters that reflect our inner selves is ok.

Wait, that aesthetic sounds kind of familiar...

But I digress. Inside Out was a successful and honestly helpful and important movie. I have no doubt in my mind that Soul will meet and surpass it in quality and and in message.

There is nothing wrong with turning your protagonist of color into an animal or blob for most of their own movie.

But it’s part of a larger pattern, and that pattern tells people of color that their skin would be more fun if it was blue, or hairy, or slimy, or something. It’s fine to have films like that because heck yeah it would be fun to be a llama. But it’s also fun to not be a llama. It’s fun to be a human. It’s fun to be yourself. I don’t think children of color are told that enough.

At least, not by mainstream studios. (The Breadwinner, produced by Cartoon Saloon)

It’s not like all these mainstream poc movies are the result of racist white producers who want us to equate people of color with animals. In fact, most of those movies these days have people of color very high up, as directors, writers, or at the very least, a pool of consultants of color.

These movies aren’t evil. They aren’t even that intrinsically racist (Pocahontas can go take a hike and rethink its life, but we knew that.) It’s that we need more than just the shape-shifting narratives of our non-white protagonists.

It’s not like there isn’t an enormous pool of ideas, talent, visions and scripts already written and waiting to be produced. There is.

But they somehow don’t make it past the head executives, way above any creative team, who make the decisions, aiming not for top-of-the-line stories, but for the Bottom line of sales.

When Disney acquired Pixar, their main takeover was in the merchandising department. The main target for their merchandise are, honestly, white children.

So is it much of a surprise

that they are more often greenlighting things palatable for as many “discerning” mothers as possible?

I saw just as many Tiana dolls as frog toys on the front page of google, so don’t worry too much about The Princess And The Frog. Kids love her. But I didn’t find any human figures of Kenai from Brother Bear, except for dolls wearing a bear suit.

So. What do I think of Soul?

I think it’s going to be beautiful. I think it’s going to be a great movie.

But I also think people of color deserve more.

Let’s take one more look at the top people who went into making this movie.

Of the six people listed here, five are white. Kemp Powers, one of the screenplay writers, is black.

It’s cool to see women reaching power within the animation industry, but this post isn’t about us.

We need to replace the top execs and get more projects greenlit that send the message that african, asian, latinix, middle eastern, and every other non-white ethnicity is perfect and relatable as the humans they were meant to be.

Disney is big enough that they can - and therefore should - take risks and produce movies that aren’t as “marketable” simply because art needs to be made. People need to be loved.

Come on, millennials and Gen Z. We can do better.

We Will do better.

TLDR: A lot of mainstream animation turns its protagonists of color into animals or other creatures. I (white) don’t think that’s a bad thing, except for the fact that we don’t get enough poc movies that AREN’T weird. Support Soul; it’s not going to be as bad as you think. It’s probably gonna be really good. Let’s make more good movies about people of color that stay PEOPLE of color.

#soul #pixar #disney #poc #animation #long post #shire screams

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marril96 · 4 years

Text

Handle with Care

Pairing: Rowena x reader

Summary: A sexual role-play leads to guilt and tears.

Editor: @miss-moon-guardian

*****

It was a game no different than the countless others you'd played.

It started with a kiss that made you tingle all over, nerves on fire, going off like fireworks on the Fourth of July. A push — a shove, really, for you intended to make the most of the night — and Rowena was on her back, naked as the day she'd been born, arms spread, skin glistening like a milky sky dusted with a constellation of freckles, hair spilled around her head like a fiery halo.

Lying so still, her eyes observing your every move, taking it in like prey preparing for an attack, heart pounding softly in her chest, she resembled an angel. She was beautiful as one, charming, magnificent, supernatural not just in species but in presence itself. A force of nature you never tired of claiming, of making it clear to everyone that asked — and those that didn't — that she was yours.

She didn't get like this for just everyone. She didn't bare herself — body, mind, and soul — to any stranger. It took years of love, of devotion, of endless patience and support and kindness for you to earn her trust to be allowed to play this game.

As much as she wanted to pretend otherwise, Rowena was a delicate thing. Gentle. Fragile. She needed to be handled with care, even when she relinquished all control and told you, in no certain terms, to go at it. To roam free. She had her limits, and she trusted you to respect them.

Straddling her, you pressed your mouth to hers in another kiss. Tonight was your night. As much as she loved being in control, there were times when she relished being a powerless, naughty girl in need of punishment. A few days ago, that was your role. Tonight, it was hers. Your hands roamed everywhere, tugging, squeezing, feeling her warmth underneath your fingertips, as delicious as her mouth on yours.

Rowena's eyes fell closed, a moan escaping her lips — her swollen, cherry-red lips, hungry for kisses, begging for more. Your teeth grazed the lower one as you parted, drawing blood. She hissed, startled, and you smirked. Rowena pouted, and you clicked your tongue, shaking your head. She was at your mercy tonight. Nobody said anything about playing fair.

You kissed down her neck, every now and then capturing a bit of skin between your lips and leaving behind a butterfly bruise. They were violet and beautiful, marks of ownership she would wear for days, alike those she'd left on you earlier. It was one of your favorite parts of the game. Being allowed to hurt her, ruin her, and make it feel so good — not just for you, but for her as well.

Rowena accompanied every nip with a moan, pain and pleasure mixed into one, a sound that was magic to your ears. Her body was a canvas, blank and perfect, waiting for you to fill it, to make it yours. And, the artist you were, you were happy to oblige.

Your cupped her breasts. Small, supple, they fit perfectly into your palms. You kissed each one, suckling on rock-hard nipples. Biting on each before releasing them with a plop. Rowena looked at you with wounded, desperate eyes. Sad as a kicked puppy. You used to have a hard time resisting them, but over the years you'd built a tolerance for petty manipulations in the bedroom. You had, after all, learned from the best.

"Aw, what is it, baby?" you cooed, sarcasm thick in your voice.

"Y/N, please," she whined. A perfect, delicious little melody.

You raised an eyebrow. "Please what?"

"Touch me."

"I am touching you." You emphasized it by pinching one of her nipples, eliciting a yelp. "Is this not good enough for you?"

"It is, but…"

"But what?"

Rowena pouted. Realizing you weren't going to fall for that, either, she said, "Please, Y/N."

Her hand slithered between her legs. You slapped it away. "Patience, sweetie."

"But—"

"No buts." Your fingers slid over her thigh in a gentle caress. A teasing. A promise of what was to come. "We've only just started. No need to rush things."

"I need you."

You chuckled. And she had the audacity to be offended when you called her a brat. "You're such a baby."

"Am not," she said defiantly, scowling.

"So are. My little baby," you teased, booping the tip of her nose.

She scrunched up her face adorably. "You're mean."

"That's rich, coming from you. Or did you forget last week?" She'd worked you so hard it had hurt to walk for two days straight. You hadn't regretted a thing; every lick of pain, every screaming muscle was worth it.

Rowena smirked. "T'was a lot of fun."

It definitely was. "And so is tonight." You raised a questioning eyebrow. "Unless you're chickening out."

"Please. As if I've anything to fear."

"I can be scary."

A snort, taunting, derisive.

You scowled. "What, you don't think I can?"

"Of course you can, darling." She patted your arm as if you were a dog who'd just performed the simplest trick. Good girl, the gesture said, condescending to its very core. So smart for a dog.

You grit your teeth, smacking her hand off. "You're being a naughty girl."

There it was again, that smirk, infuriating and delicious all at once. Defiant as ever. "What are you going to do about it?"

"I'm going to have to punish you." Your pussy quivered at the thought. Pictures already formed in your mind; Rowena on her knees, your hand tangled in her hair, pulling to expose her neck, to show her who was in charge. To make her submit for every failure to do so resulted in a new punishment. Bruises adorning her body, bites and scratches, red lines and purple butterflies. An artwork to be admired.

She quired up an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"Mmhm." You licked your lips, imagined your tongue exploring tastier places. All in good time. "Can't reward bad behavior, can I?"

"You most certainly can't," she agreed. Then, with a teasing grin, "If you're competent."

Brat mode on, it seemed. Not that it was ever off, in the sheets or the streets.

"Are you saying I can't punish you?"

"Och, I know you can. If it's any good, though… that is a guessing game, is it not?"

"Is that a challenge?" you asked, knowing full well it was.

"I don't know. Is it?" You scowled. Rowena shrugged, blinked innocently. "You are a more… gentle lover, darling. I just don't know if you have it in you to be tough."

You slapped her in the face with all the strength you could muster. Her cheek instantly swelled an angry red, skin bristled, tingling with raging nerves. If that was how she wanted to play, so be it. You loved a good challenge.

The smug smile never left Rowena's mouth. If anything, it got bigger, bolder. She laughed, and it was hearty, too nonchalant for her own good. "Is that the best you've got?"

Frustration swelled in your chest. Riling you up was her favorite thing to do whenever you played. She loved to push you to your limits, loved to tease and taunt and mock until you snapped and took all your anger, all your rage out on her. It hurt a lot, and it hurt so good; you knew from your own nights as a "victim," when Rowena's own limits were pushed and you happily paid the price.

Your hands shot up to her neck, fingers wrapping around the sensitive skin. Tentative, gentle, testing the waters before the final countdown. Choking wasn't something you practiced often, but Rowena always welcomed it. She'd never refused a punishment, had never used her safe word and asked that you go slower, lighter. She welcomed pain for as much as it hurt, it felt so good, so empowering.

She knew you would never do anything she wasn't comfortable with. Knew one word of hers would be the end of everything, and your arms would be open for her to snuggle into as you murmured apologies. She felt safe with you, just as you had with her. There was no danger, no fear. Nothing either of you hadn't consented to.

Nothing but endless trust.

Rowena snorted. "Seriously?"

If that's how you wanna play it, fine. Eyes locked in an intense stare, your fingers tightened around her neck. Such a delicate thing she was. So small, so frail. You could crush her throat if you wanted to. It was a scary amount of power to have, but you knew how to wield it. You knew not to let it get to you, not to abuse it.

"How about this, Red?" The words rolled off your tongue in a purr, delicate, provocative. The way you knew made her quiver in all the right places. "Hm? You like this?"

Your nails dug into her skin as you squeezed and squeezed and squeezed, grazing it, almost drawing blood. Marking it. She was yours; your property, your little doll to play with, to do whatever you wanted to. And, gods, there were so many things you wanted to do. So many punishments you wanted to inflict, different ways to make her scream and beg and whimper underneath you. To make her curse your name just as you had hers last week as she'd worked you to your very last limit.

Rowena smacked your arm. Again. And again. She kept hitting you, kept fighting you, tiny fingers clawing. Desperate as a trapped kitten, and just as harmless.

Your mouth curled into a smirk. "What do you think you're doing? Hm, Red?" Then, teasing, "My Little Red Riding Hood."

She still fought you, desperate to get free. Strange as it was given the situation, she was pale as a ghost. Her eyes, you noticed far too late, were wide, filled with panic like a sky painted grey with storm clouds. Filled with fear; pure, unadulterated. Terror much alike the one you knew well for, three years ago, it had been a constant. A nightmare she couldn't seem to wake up from, that followed her everywhere she went and made her fear every shadow she came across.

You instantly released her. Guilt ate at you as she doubled over and gasped for breath. You hadn't squeezed her that hard, had you? Surely, you were careful.

No. Your heart knew it before the reality of the situation reached your brain. You were too rough. You frightened her. You hurt her.

"Rowena, I'm so sorry," you said. "I didn't—"

Were those tears dripping on the bed? Was she crying?

You had crossed her limits, but surely it wasn't that bad. She couldn't be that scared, like bad then, in that hotel room, with the Devil crushing her skull and setting her alight — all the while she was still alive.

Could she?

Surely she was exaggerating.

Right?

"Hey, are you okay?" You reached for her shoulder. She stiffened under your touch. Went still as a statue. "Sweetheart?"

Her eyes, wounded, broken, found yours for a brief moment before falling downwards in shame. A whimper tore from her mouth. More tears fell, and with them came sobs that shattered your heart into a thousand pieces. She was shaking, heart pounding so hard you could hear it, could feel the vibrations under your fingertips.

"Rowena—"

"Don't." She gathered the last remnants of her strength to say it, to make it curt, straight to the point. As close to regular one could get when they were crying.

"What is it?"

She shook her head. Whined. Cried like she hadn't in months, not since the last nightmare. They'd lessened in frequency, reappearing every now and then as opposed to every night like they used to. She'd managed to get them under control over the years, just as she had flashbacks; they weren't gone, never would be, but they weren't as frequent. She could sleep without fear now. She could walk the streets without worrying about something random sending her down a memory lane she wished she could erase from her head.

Was that what you'd done? Had you sent her back to that hotel room, straight into Lucifer's arms?

"Hey," you said softly, in that tone that always calmed her, that always put her at ease. You rubbed her shoulder, caressed it with utmost tenderness. "It's okay. You're okay."

Only she wasn't, was she? Because of you. Because you went too far. The accusations stung. It was an accident; you would never harm her on purpose, would never make her relive the worst day of her life. Would never cause her any kind of pain she didn't want you to.

Yet, you did exactly that.

Your intentions didn't matter. The fact remained that you did it. You swore you never would, and you did it, all over a stupid sexual game.

Tears pricked at your eyes, sharp as knives. Accusatory. Unforgiving. You were a bad person. A bad girlfriend. If Rowena decided it wasn't worth it, that she wanted nothing to do with you, she would be well within her rights.

"Come here." You didn't feel like you deserved it, but you wanted to make it up to her. Wanted to, at the very least, try to fix the damage you'd caused. Wanted to — selfishly so, and you hated yourself for it — feel her against you and, for a short moment, feel like you were doing something good, like you were helping her.

Just like countless times before, she dove into your arms, buried her head in your chest, and crumbled. She wept and sobbed and whined, sad to her core, broken, shattered. Unconsolable.

All because of you.

Guilty tears falling, you wrapped your arms around her. Tight as if your life depended on it. "It's okay," you whispered. "It's okay, baby. You're safe."

And she was. You were the only person she allowed to see this side of her; this frail, broken creature, all defenses down, protective walls torn apart. She knew you wouldn't judge her, wouldn't take advantage. She trusted you.

That only made the guilt that ripped at you worse.

She trusted you, and you did this to her.

She trusted you despite it.

You hurt her, and she still trusted you, still felt safe in your arms. Still sought comfort in you. Still let you see her at her worst, weakest, most vulnerable.

"I'm sorry," you said once again, and wanted to say it many more times, for as long as guilt ate away at you. "I'm sorry. I love you. I'm sorry."

You rocked her writhing form, gently, as if she were a child. Rubbed soft circles across her bare, sweat-soaked back. Nuzzled her hair and kissed her scalp.

"I'm so sorry."

Moment by moment, whisper by whisper, Rowena quieted down. Pulling away, she rubbed at her swollen, scarlet-rimmed eyes.

"You okay?" you asked.

She gave a small nod and, in a raspy voice, said, "Aye."

"Need anything? A glass of water?"

"I'm fine."

She wasn't, but, like always, she put on a front. Her way of regaining some control, some dignity after falling apart.

"Was…" You swallowed a lump in your throat. Licked your lips. Cleared your throat. "Was it a flashback?"

Rowena nodded.

The confirmation shattered you, tore you apart like a knife deep in your gut. You should have known this would happen. You'd choked her before, but never like that. Never that hard. It was your fault she was hurting. Your fault she would spend the night tossing and turning in bed, the memories burning in her mind, fresh as if not a day had gone by since the incident. Your fault she she was back in that hotel room, completely and utterly helpless, terrified to the bone..

It was all your fault.

"I'm sorry," you said for the upteenth time. As if that could change anything. As if an apology would erase the agony she was in — the agony you'd put her in. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

Not in a way she didn't like. You'd planned to hurt her plenty tonight. Only, she was supposed to enjoy it. Not curl up in a ball and weep.

"I know," Rowena said, and meant it. She could hold a mean grudge. If there were any ill feelings, she would have let you know.

That only made you feel worse.

She should have been angry. She should have screamed her lungs out, arms flailing wildly, eyes flashing purple. She should have hurt you, or wanted to at the very least.

She should not be this calm about it after what you'd put her through.

It wasn't right.

Noticing your turmoil, Rowena reached for your hand. She was warm to the touch, soft, gentle. Her fingers twined with yours, squeezed tight. A comfort you didn't know you needed. Your nerves instantly calmed, tense muscles relaxed. The woman was magic, and she didn't even have to utter a single spell. All she had to do was touch you, and you were hers, your body, soul, and mind under her command.

Sometimes you hated it.

In times like this, you welcomed it.

"It was an accident," she said, looking straight into your eyes. Making sure you heard her loud and clear. "I'm fine. Don't beat yourself up."

"I shouldn't have choked you."

"You didn't know."

You didn't. But still… "We did it before, so I thought it was fine." You couldn't change what happened, but you could explain. You could make her understand. "I didn't mean to go that far. It just happened. I—"

"I know," Rowena said. "It was an accident, darling."

"I suck."

"You don't."

"I'm a bad girlfriend."

"You're not."

"I'm just like him."

"Don't you dare say that!" The sharpness of her tone startled you. Her eyes, still red and puffy, were fuming, anger coiling in them like a storm about to devastate a town. "You are nothing like Lucifer." She spat the name like the filth it was. "I never want to hear you say things like that again. Have I made myself clear?"

You gave a nod. "I'm sorry."

A smile broke out on her mouth, small but encouraging. "Like I said, it's okay. I'm okay.."

"Are you sure?"

"Aye." You stared. She sighed. "For the most part. Don't worry. The worst has passed."

"I'm—"

Raising a forefinger in warning, she said, "If you say sorry one more time, you are sleeping on the couch."

You threw your arms up in defeat. "Sorry." She raised an eyebrow. You cringed. Nice going, Y/N. "I'll just stop talking."

"That would be greatly appreciated," Rowena deadpanned.

A moment passed in silence. Then you said, "I guess I shouldn't choke you anymore."

"That would be for the best," she agreed. "I can handle it for the most part, but it would be best to prevent future accidents. Some things..."

"I know," you said, reclaiming her hand, squeezing it in emphasis. She didn't have to explain. If she couldn't handle it, that was enough for you to cease doing it. After all, you played these games for mutual pleasure. There was no satisfaction in suffering if it wasn't wanted. "Is there anything else you don't want me to do?"

"Just choking."

"Okay."

"Och, and…" You raised a questioning eyebrow. She bit her lip. "Maybe don't call me Red."

"Of course!" His favorite nickname for her. A bad choice of words on your part, especially when coupled with choking. "It completely slipped my mind."

"It's alright, darling."

Laying down, you waved for Rowena to join you. She was beside you in an instant, nestled in your embrace, curled up against you like a kitten.

"I love you," you said as you played with the locks of her hair, threaded your fingers through them.

"Me, too," she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your collarbone.

You laid like that for what felt like hours. It took a while, but, to your surprise, Rowena, feeling safe, protected, drifted off to sleep. Smiling, you kissed the top of her head and allowed your eyes to fall closed. Allowed much needed sleep to claim you.

Tomorrow was a new day. Hopefully, a brighter one.

After all, you had a game to finish.

*****

Tags: @werewolfbarbie @oswinthestrange @songofthecagedmoose @apurdyfulmind @getthesalt-sam @metallihca @salembitchtrials @jay-eris @hellsmother @elizabeth-effie @shadowgirl-vsb @rowenaswife @wonderifshelikesroses @xfireandsin @liddell-alien @hotdiggitydammit @lae-lae @darkhumorsblog @angel7376 @cherrypierowena @evil-regal-vampiress @hellbentredhead @angel-e-v-a @a-queen-and-her-throne @carryon-doctor-lock @fangirlxwritesx67 @rowenaslilwitch @midnight-lestrange

#rowena #rowena macleod #spn #supernatural #spn family #rowena x reader #my fics #fanfiction

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simeonstans · 4 years

Note

Hey, no worries, I'm the angst Nonnie. I was asking about like a brother (in this instance Mammon) catches MC cheating on their brother (lets say, Lucifer) with another demon. I want brotherly support

okie and the brothers you chose were the oldest 4! gotcha!! srry for taking long to make this :( also i made it so only Levi's was on purpose, i didn't have much of the heart to make MC an asshole cheater dhdjdk

Lucifer

You and Lucifer have been going out for a while now but now it seems like he has no time for you.

You understand all the work he has to do for the exchange program to succeed and how much work Diavolo gives him. But still, you couldn't help but feel lonely. He'd sometimes even kick you out of his office even when you weren't speaking or you were just scrolling through Devilgram. It was irritating.

Asmo might've seen you being bummed out and looking lonely lately, so he invited you to go clubbing at The Fall with him. Said you needed fresh air, so of course he went ahead and dragged you along with him. Dolled you up and everything.

At the club, you just sat at a table, a couple of glasses in and you honestly knew better than to get drunk with none of the brothers there to care for you. Sure Asmo was there and promised to be with you but he saw some guy walk into place and now he's probably getting it on in some closet. And now you're alone.

Figuring you could sober out, you decided to dance. Again, this was drunk you speaking so could you really make since of anything?

You felt this demon walk over to you, and now he was grinding behind you. Turning you saw black hair and black and red eyes staring at you. Lucifer? Maybe Diavolo invited him out?

You smiled up at him and began kissing him passionately, even grabbing his crotch. And the male returned every action back and groped your ass all he could.

Just at this moment Asmo walked in through the crowd looking for you. The guy he met was a heterosexual with a girlfriend only wanting clout for trying to hook up with him. And he wasn't gonna be bait. That's when he saw you making out with some weird guy.

"MC! What the hell are you doing?!" he pulled you back from him, looking at this freak. His eyes and hair were the same as Lucifer's but that's where the similarities end. "And what the hell is wrong with you preying on someone drunk, you @$!?&" He yelled even louder.

Out of all his brothers, Asmo has a good amount of patience. Only have you ever seen him snap at Mammon and it's usually when Mammon starts shit up. It's like the alcohol in you washed all away and now you're seeing the entire situation.

"A-Asmo... I am so so-" You sobbed out.

"Quit it. You need to tell Lucifer. He won't be happy but he may appreciate the honesty."

Afterwards, Asmo was there beside you when you confessed to Lucifer. He, once again, kicked you out of his office, and now you were in your room crying your eyes out. Asmo comforted you for a bit but for the rest of the night, he comforted Lucifer. Who hasn't cried as hard as the time he lost his sister. The other brothers, they tried not to hate you. But they also tried not to kill you at breakfast. It would take time to heal all wounds.

Mammon

Mammon told you he planned out a date. He had you wait outside some restaurant until he arrived and for the time being, you entertained yourself on your phone.

A couple demons have come up to you and asked you for your number but, of course, you declined them all.

Two hours passed and there were no signs of Mammon. You called him, no answer. You called Lucifer, again, no answer. No one answered.

So you stood and as you were going to walk back to the House of Lamentation, an arm grabbed you. "Hello, I'm sorry, but you're stunning. Please, give me your number." And before you could decline, the demon looked up behind you then down at you and kissed you before you turned around.

"MC?!" You turned behind you to see Beel. "A-Are you cheating on Mammon?" the demon turned around and ran off, leaving you stranded.

"Beel, it's not what you think." "You kissed him."

Beel was huge on family. He loved his brothers more than anything, and now he saw you betray his brother. "Why?"

Mammon soon found out the entire situation as he found Beel standing on the street, he gave you the wrong address and was looking for you. His brothers phones either all dead or Lucifer cut their messages off temporarily as punishment again.

While Beel and his brothers understood the situation and how it was forced upon you, Mammon's insecurity went up the roof. And Mammon would rely on Lucifer and Beel to comfort him until he could accept your apology.

Leviathan

You loved your boyfriend. Really, you did. But he spent countless hours behind a computer screen. Always talking to his friends and going on raids. Only talked about Sucre Frenzy and Ruri-chan. No attention towards you.

You were tired of it so you decided to go down to the library and clear your mind of things. A friend you made in class invited you over after hearing how Levi would ignore you sometimes.

Thinking it could be a way for you to get out of the house and spend time seeing more things than what's usually on Levi's screen, you agreed.

This friend, Levi mentioned he felt rather jealous of him. But you reassured him that you only liked him and no one else, that this friend was just a friend. He is the Avatar of Envy, after all.

So after an hour or two, visiting a cafe after a quick trip to the library, you both sat beside each other. He was currently reading a poem to you off one of the books he checked out. And you were leaning onto his shoulder, your mind off somewhere.

"So, what did you think?" he hummed, closing the book. "Mmm sorry, I wasn't paying attention."

"Is it Levi? Your boyfriend? Is he neglecting you again?" You friend questioned you. You went off on how Levi would ignore you and gave more attention to his friends online that he's never met before, how he spent thousands of Grimm on some girl group he's seen live once, how he'd much rather marry some drawing of a girl in a poofy skirt and pigtails rather than you.

All the while you friend kept leaning closer to your face. "And it's like he doesn't- Woah, you're close to me." Your friend leaned in closer. No you shouldn't. Don't kiss him. You love Levi. Levi is your one true-

He closed the gap, and you kissed back. You knew it was wrong but you needed it. You wanted some sort of attention. You needed something physical. But Levi-

A cough interrupted you two. Satan was behind you.

"MC, did you and Levi break up? Or have I gone mad and caught you cheating on my insecure brother?"

Fuck.

Satan did tell Leviathan, in fact, he was face timing Levi the entire time. Your boyfriend asked Satan to pick up some treats at the cafe you were unknowingly at as a surprise and apology for ignoring you lately. Instead Satan overheard your conversation and faced the camera the entire time at you.

Afterwards, Levi shut himself in his room, lights off, headphones blasting and tears down his cheeks. He hugged the sweater you left in his room some time ago. Satan did go in to check up on him and he was especially mad at you. They all were. And you were the most angry.

Satan

Lucifer sent Satan up to Earth to sort some things out for him.

He mentioned it'd take two weeks but he promised he'd take you out and spend time with you as soon as he got back.

Now, there were three days left until he returned and you were estatic!

Deciding to go out to the store and buy some groceries and prepare him a feast before his arrival back to the Devildom.

Now the bag of special flour was on the top shelf. Demons were taller than the average human, so this shelf was especially high. You turned at a coworker that was walking past you and asked him to fetch you the flour on the top shelf.

Of course, he said yes and easily picked it up for you. "On one condition." He must be Joking. Seriously, dude, I'm a customer, you thought to yourself.

The condition was for a kiss and a date. You shook your head no and before you could open your mouth to say you already had a boyfriend, he pressed his lips against yours and handed you to flour. "Great, meet me at Ristorante Six in three days. 8pm sharp. Tell your folks I'll drop you off at 11." He walked off, smacking your ass.

Seriously what the fu-

"MC, are you cheating on Satan? You know he came back today, right?" Belphie was in front of you now. He knew he heard your voice and he thought of finding you so he could also make something for his twin.

You explained the situation to him. The sleepy boy did doubt you but told you to explain it all to Satan once you all got home. You agreed.

Satan, yes he was fuming, he was angry. Belphie had to remind him that you didn't even consent to a kiss nor an ass smack. And then you remembered he told you to meet him outside Ristorante Six.

Now the grocery store employee WAS there and he was dressed nice. And you were there too. And Satan was there too. Ready to beat the shit out of him. And he did. Satan was still hurt from the entire situation and did need some consolation from his brothers before he could hold you again. He just appreciated your honesty. Belphie, however, did say that if you were to ever hurt his brothers again, he won't hesitate to kill you again.

#obey me leviathan #leviathan #lucifer #asmodeus #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me belphegor #obey me satan #satan #obey me #beelzebub #simeonstanon #mammon #belphagor #srry this was done at 5am im sleepy ;(

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buckys-little-hoe · 4 years

Text

Always Forever 2 | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: The effects are beginning to show. Suddenly you need to be close to each other, every touch is like a drug, every insult is like a knife stab. Thor finally finds the solution to the problem - and that only complicates everything.

Warnings: There’s a penis and a vagina, oral sex (male receiving), petting, making out, unprotected Sex (You can't go wrong, if you shield your dong), cussing

A/N: Ladies and Gentelmen, here it is! My first smut-thing. Please tell me how you feel about it and how I can make it even better! Also, look at how beautiful this man is. *0*

—

With your teeth clenched, you sit far from Bucky. It's incredibly quiet. Too calm. There is usually a lot of discussion and laughing during dinner, but today it is different. Everyone notices the tension between you and Bucky. It's only been two days, but you're feeling the effects. You long for him, want to touch his skin. But you can't - it would hurt your ego. Bruce is working hard to find a solution, he's in the lab day and night. Even Thor went to Asgard for a few days to find an antidote. God damn, even Sam doesn't make fun of the situation. It's weird. The atmosphere is so uncomfortable and forced. Nobody dares to say anything.

You are hot, very hot. So you get up. The chair squeals and everyone looks at you. "I'm going to my room.”, you apologize yourself quietly and receive a single nod from your friends. You walk to your room as fast as possible, you just want to get away from this situation. You get to your room in seconds - a new record. With a sigh you let yourself fall on your soft bed. Slight stomach cramps affect you. You are two weeks away from your menstruation. So what is this pain?

Meanwhile, Bucky grumbles some apologize just so he can leave this strange dinner. He notices how the conversation starts as soon as he leaves the room. He rolls his eyes and makes his way to his bedroom. But he stops at your door. Something attracts him, almost like a magnet. His hand grips the metal and the spot immediately tingles. He should knock, but maybe you won't let him in then. Bucky doesn't need much, he just has to touch you briefly. He needs physical contact.

Without further ado, he simply enters your room. Your head is pressed into the fluffy pillow and he recognizes the sweat beads on your bare skin. You changed clothes, dressed shorter to escape the heat. You lift your head slightly and let out a tormented groan. "I know what you want, please just do it.", you say in a hoarse voice and he trembles. You need him as much as he needs you. He slowly approaches you and you laugh softly.

"I don’t bite."

"Normally you do."

Now you two laugh. He carefully settles down next to you. "I'm going to touch your hip now, Y/N.”, he warns you, because he's afraid that you'll change your mind and slap him. Once again you sigh annoyed.

"God, Bucky.”, you reply tensely and sit up. He feels just as bad as you, why doesn't he just touch you? You hug him quickly. Surprised, he falls back slightly. You sit on his lap and he gasps.

"Fuck Y/N.", Bucky groans. This makes your face red unintentionally. The tingling in your abdomen increases. Bucky cannot explain what the feeling is. He can finally breathe normally again and yet somehow he cannot. You feel his excitement at your sore spot and press your lips together. You try to inconspicuously rub yourself against it. Bucky leans his head back and sighs comfortably. "God- fuck ... Doll ... I can ... you don't have to ...", he tries to get a sentence out, but he doesn't. The feeling of your sweet pussy against him is too much. Four layers of clothes separate you.

"Shit, Bucky ... I need you.”, you moan softly, rolling your hips against his. His hands lift you by the waist. The friction feels so good. Your eyes close automatically and you draw your lower lip between your teeth. Breathing irregularly, he leans his head on your chest. Your arms are wrapped tightly around his neck.

“Come on, pretty girl. Cum for me. ”, he whispers, yet you can hear him clearly. The tingling feeling builds up more and more. With one hand you dig into the pillow. You rub against his erection faster. His moan turns you on even more. "It's okay, doll. I got you.”, he says and you gasp. Almost simultaneously you two feel the ecstasy. The feeling is more intense than ever. He had never had such a good orgasm, he will probably think about it forever. You cling to him and slowly ride your orgasm out. He carefully puts you on your bed and you fall back exhausted. There is a stain on your gray shorts and Bucky's orgasm can also be seen on his pants.

Without exchanging any words, he goes out and closes the door behind him. Your chest is contracting strangely. Somehow you feel used. You just put the blame on the potion. You definitely feel much better than before. You feel satisfied and satisfied.

Bucky goes away because he fears of getting too close to you. He doesn't want you to feel compelled to spend the night with him. You certainly don't want all of this and would rather have drunk the potion with someone else. The touch should definitely be enough for a few days. He can successfully avoid you.

—

Another two days pass without you running into each other. It helps that you avoid him like the plague. The team of course noticed your intense tension and puzzled over what might have happened. While Tony and Natasha are betting that you have finally gone one step further, Sam and Wanda assume that you only kissed. Steve didn't say anything about it. Clint just shrugged and said you were probably arguing again. Only Vision has no opinion of the situation. Bruce continues to work hard and Thor is still on Asgard.

In the early morning you enter the kitchen and notice the prying eyes. You yawn loudly and let the coffee machine run. Words can wait until another day, you decide and ignore your teammates. Even Bucky had decided to not say anything, but he is not the one who has to endure these looks. Damn asshole...-fuck! A sharp pain goes through your body. It's like you've burned yourself everywhere at once. Shaking your head, you take your cup out of the cupboard and wait patiently for your coffee. It's all the fault of this Dickhead..- Holy! What the hell? Full of pain, your hand clasps away from the cup. It falls to the floor and breaks immediately. Curved you hold on to the counter.

Steve immediately rushes to help and picks up the broken pieces. He throws these in the garbage. But as soon as he wants to touch your arm soothingly, this spot glows internally and you flinch backwards. He looks at you in disbelief. "Is everything okay, Y/N?", he asks in a calm voice. You stammer in confusion. "Are you hurt? Are you in pain?”, the captain interrupts your babble.

You shake your head slightly. "No, it's just- when you touched me ... - I don't know, Steve.", you answer visibly confused. Bruce, who has been standing in the door frame for a while, clears his throat loudly. Your head snaps to him and he signals you to follow him. You follow after the scientist like a dog. In his hand are chaotic handwritten documents. When you arrive in the laboratory, you sit down on one of the countless chairs.

"So, Y/N ...", he begins slowly and flips through the leaves. Then looks up with regretful facial expressions. "I guess you mentally insulted James?" You nod with your mouth open. ”The potion is causing it. He insults you, he is in pain. You insult him, you are in pain.”, the man with the seven doctoral degrees explains.

"But why did Steve's touch hurt me?", you want to know. With light red cheeks Bruce swallows hard.

“I'm assuming that there was an intimate act between you and James. You are bound to it by the potion, which means touching someone else hurts you. “

You look at him incredulously. "You're kidding me."

"Unfortunately, no. And it will probably happen more often in the near future. So if you ... Uhm ... well ... if you need contraception then ... - you know. "

You choke. You cough loudly and he hands you a glass of water. With a grateful nod, you accept the glass and drink large sips. He waves your thank you away. Your cough slowly calms down and you take a deep breath. "So... Just for your information. I'm on birth control. ”, you reply and he nods understandingly.

"Good. If you need anything, I'm here. Unfortunately, I haven't made much progress yet. I'm going to have to wait for Thor.”, Bruce says and you close your eyes for a few seconds. When you open it again, you notice Bucky in the door frame. You say goodbye to Bruce and use the other exit.

—

Peter laughs out loud when Sam sticks popcorn into his nostrils. With a snort, Natasha turns back to the television. Even Tony rolls his eyes and then focuses on the film again. You sit between couch end and bucky. Your other friends are sitting in the rows in front of you. It's been three days since the incident. The film is not really interesting, you can hardly concentrate on it. Instead, you'd rather look at Bucky from the side. His striking facial features have been stored in your brain since the first encounter.

Your first encounter had been like an explosion. Bucky was going to be extra nice to you. You were trained to be assassin since you were at an early age, you were tortured for mistakes. He wanted to bond with you, something so that you knew that you weren't alone. But as soon as you opened your mouth, he knew you didn't need any help. You have always had everything under control. He wasn't sure what he had imagined. A shy girl that shrugs away from every touch? Or that you were rather withdrawn and cool? But you were none of it. Naughty, rebellious and cheeky. You immediately gave your opinion about every single one of them. Bucky thought it was funny too, until you attacked him with your words. It's just your way of dealing with this.

You love control, it is important to you. As soon as you lose control, you feel like an easy target. No matter where you are, you check out the room for a few times to make sure that every escape route is clear. Bucky clears his throat and you notice that you've been looking at him for a long time. With red cheeks you turn your head to the screen. The former assassin swallows unobtrusively and slowly slides his hand towards you. A tingling sensation spreads when your hands are in contact. His skin on yours is like fireworks. It feels great. You forget that these feelings are forced. Were they? You are no longer sure. The truth is you never meant to hurt Bucky with your words. Of course it was your plan to make friends, but it was so difficult at the beginning. Even now that they all understood and forgave you, Bucky didn't want to hear anything from you. But now it was a must. Without his touch it feels like death. And you can confirm that because you were once declared clinically dead.

You blink and press your lips together. Then you wrap your hand around his. From the corner of your eye you can see how the corners of his mouth pull up slightly. Satisfied, you really try to concentrate on the film this time. But Bucky has other plans, he craves more. He releases his hand from yours. You turn to him in confusion and raise a perfectly plucked eyebrow. He lasciviously licks his lower lip. You automatically bite your lip and look away. Suddenly you feel his hand on your thigh. Like three days ago, you only wear shorts. At first you think he just wants to draw circles on your thigh, but his hand keeps working up.

There is a blanket on you, but the danger is too great for you. So you bend your other leg to raise the blanket a little. That way you avoid that the outlines from his hands can be seen. Bucky sees your reaction as a yes. His fingertips stroke your sensitive area. You hold your breath, unnoticed. Two layers of fabric separate his fingers from your pearl. He gently stimulates your clit. With your other hand, you claw into the couch. He slowly pulls your shorts and panties aside. You gasp quietly. Bucky looks at you warningly. You nod slightly and watch the TV. His fingers touch your entrance.

Meanwhile his body is pressed so close to yours that not a single sheet of paper would fit between you. He approaches you with his head and you can feel his hot breath on your cheek. "So wet for me, doll.", he whispers tentatively in your ear and kisses it lightly. Your abdomen tingles and you swallow hard. “Do you want to feel my big fingers in you, Y/N?”, he continues to whisper and you stop breathing.

"Please." You breath imploringly. Your legs shake slightly, your body implores him. You want to feel his fingers, you need him!

"Let's make a deal.”, he says, inserting only the tip of his finger. Your heart pauses briefly. Fuck you can't wait.

“Everything you want, just fuck me with your fingers, Bucky. Please.”, you agree quietly. Satisfied, he inserts a finger. With red cheeks you continue to look at the screen and bite your finger.

“Later you will blow my cock nicely. Tomorrow I'll fuck your brain out of you. You will cum all over my cock and shout my name, doll.”, he explains in a whisper and uses his thumb to massage your clit. You can only nod. “I'll widen your sweet pussy, Y/N. You will take what I will give you. ”

Your eyes become glassy and you put your head back. "Fuck, Bucky.”, you murmur excitedly. The chance of being caught only turns you on even more. He unexpectedly inserts a second finger. You hiss quietly. Shit, that feels so good.

"Holy shit, doll. You’re so tight. Are you sure you can take my cock?”, he secretly asks and your head shoots at him. Slowly he pushes his fingers out and in. The smacking sound is drowned out by the action film. You lick your lips breathlessly.

“Yes, sergeant. I promise.”, you say and you notice how his eyes take on a darker tone. He picks up a faster pace and always hits your sore point. Your vision blurs and you see white dots. "Bucky ... I ..." Your hand is clenching his thigh, but he doesn't care.

"Cum for me, babygirl.”, he whispers and you blink. Then everything becomes white for a short time. Happiness floods your body. Fuck, this is the best orgasm you have ever had. Bucky removes his fingers and looks deep into your eyes. Then he leads them to your mouth. Without thinking about it, you immediately put them in your mouth. As Bucky bites his lip, you suck and lick his fingers clean. You taste sweet. Like honey. With a soft pop you let his fingers out again.

"Good girl.”, he says smiling. You let out a soft moan. “Meet me in my room right away, doll.", he orders and with wide eyes you nod. He gets up and leaves after throwing popcorn at Sam.

The minutes pass by and you get up yawning. "This movie sucks.", you say, but nobody really seems to care. So you just walk out of the cinema room towards the bedroom. When you arrive in his room, he presses you against the wall and kisses you. You return the kiss in surprise. It tastes like passion. His hands move over your body. Then they stay on your hips.

Breathless, he releases his lips and looks at you briefly. Your face has a reddish tinge and you take a hard breath. "Shit.”, he swears, pushing you to your knees. You obey on your knees and immediately start working on his belt. The pants with boxer shorts are pretty fast on the floor. Fuck, he is huge. His tip is shiny from the drops of pleasure. He looks delicious. Hungry you lick your tongue gently over its tip. You taste his pre-cum. Bucky draws in the air sharply. He happily puts his head back and gathers your hair in his hand. Carefully you grab his huge cock. Then you put it in your mouth.

It tastes so good that you have to moan softly. The vibration around his cock feels like heaven and hell at the same time. You start bobbing your head. Bucky looks at you breathing heavily. “Fuck, you look so beautiful, babydoll. Your beautiful lips wrapped around my cock.”, he groans. You move your head even faster and do the same movement with your hand. Then you detach yourself from his cock. A thread of saliva connects your mouth to his dick.

"I want you to fuck my mouth, Sergeant.”, you say in a hoarse voice.

“Shit, Y/N. Gladly.”, he mumbles and grabs your hair with his metal hand. You put your hands on his thighs. He slowly introduces his cock back into your mouth. "Ready princess?", he asks you and you nod. He moves your head up and down quickly. Your eyes start to water, but you enjoy it. His panting makes you wet. After a few minutes, he stops, his cock still in your mouth. He breathes deeply. “I want you to just focus on your breathing now. Concentrate on breathing through your nose. Understood that?" You nod with reddened eyes. Slowly he pushes your head closer to him. His big cock goes deeper and deeper into your mouth until it's finally in your throat. You choke gently and tears run down your cheeks. Bucky enjoys the view. He loves how you kneel on the floor in front of him, your eyes and face red, his cock so deep in your throat that you have to choke and cry. You love his cock. You think he tastes amazing. Shit, he even can see the outline of his dick in your throat. He groans loudly and pulls you away by your hair.

Gasping for breath, you slowly calm down. Your saliva sticks to your chin. He removes his metal hand from your hair and slowly pumps his cock. Your sight turns him on. You still take some deep breaths. He grunts loudly and pulls you by your hair. He forces you to put your head back. You gasp excitedly. Bucky moans and finally cums. He squirts his cum all over your face and you let out a comforting sigh. It feels wonderful, just like you imagine heaven. With one finger you run your hand over your cheek to collect his sperm. Then you put your finger in your mouth and lick it clean. "Fuck, doll.", he moans and takes a deep breath.

—

What are you even thinking, Bucky wonders and looks at your outfit. You are wearing a white tight top with a deep v neckline and a pink short skirt. But you don't seem to care what others think. You don’t even seem to catch Steves greedy look. Suddenly you lock eyes with Bucky. His look seems a bit deadly and you swallow hard. Did you do something wrong? Not that you know.

"Why can't I joke about it?", Sam complains and you roll with your eyes. Why does he always ask the stupidest questions?

"Because this situation is not a bit funny, Sam." Steve sighs and pushes himself off the counter. You all stand together in the kitchen - looking for an answer. It will be days before Thor returns Bruce says.

"I would say that we should just wait for Thor's return.” Bruce says and Natasha nods in agreement.

"Then that is cleared up and I can finally go shopping?" Clint asks and Bucky grumbles softly.

"You can all go, Bucky and I have to clarify something else.”, you reply in a soft voice and ignore the tingling in your abdomen. You can't think of anything else right now, the only thing in your head is his cock. And damn, you need it so badly! Oral sex is no longer enough, you need more.

Your friends say goodbye to you and disappear. As if it had been agreed, Bucky closes the door behind them and locks it. You bite your lip and feel the anticipation. Without hesitation you run up to him and put your lips on his. His tongue gently brushes your lower lip. You loosen yourself briefly to see if all doors are locked.

“My dirty little girl doesn't have patience, huh? Are you longing for my cock so much?”, he whispers sensually in your ear and your body hair stands up. Your abdomen is contracting excitedly.

"Fuck, Bucky. I finally have to feel you.”, you answer breathlessly. Within a few seconds, your back is pressed against his chest and your waist is leaning against the counter.

“What do you need, doll? Tell me.”, he asks in a hoarse voice. You greedily rub your butt against his erection. But he grabs you by the waist and forces you to stop. “Come on, be a good girl for me. What do you need?"

“I need your cock inside of me. Please.”, you tell him with a brittle voice. He puts your skirt up. His hand travels up your thigh and stops at your core.

“I don't know if you deserve it, baby girl. You run around so freely and you look innocent at the same time ... You are only mine.”, he thinks out loud and puts a finger on your clit. Your breath stops. "Didn't you notice Steves look? He looked so hungry for you. Is that what you want? His attention?”

“No, I swear it! I just want your attention, Bucky!”, you reply honestly. He gently massages your pearl. You gasp.

“Good girl. Who do you belong to, Doll?”, Bucky asks in a deep voice.

"To you. Only you. ”, you answer without thinking. That's apparently enough for him because you can hear him opening his zipper. Slowly he brushes your clothed pussy with his cock. You whimper quietly. "Your panties are soaked ... Shit.”, he sighs and strokes your panties aside with his fingers. Once again he strokes your wet entrance with his cock.

"Please, Bucky.”, you moan.

"I'll treat you so well, Doll. I'll take care of you. You won’t even think about any other guy.”, he promises and pushes his dick inside you. You hiss, it's been a while since you had real sex. And Buckys cock is big and thick, something you've never had before.

"Shit, you're so tight.”, he groans, watching his cock slide in and out of you. You breathe irregularly and cling to the bar. “Look at you, Y/N. Taking me so good, while looking so pretty.”, Bucky moans. It's like you were made for him.

You have found hell and heaven. It's just a narrow line between the two, and that's exactly where you're moving. Both taste sweet. Every touch is heaven. Every word is hell. You two are unbearable. With eyes you kill each other every second, but a few minutes later you can no longer breathe properly, you feel a pull in your chest and you sweat. Every push into you is his personal hell. Something he always wanted, but only gets through the wrong way. He can't deny that he wanted to fuck you since the first time he met you. You had an innocent short dress on back then. It was all just physical. If you wouldn’t have been a brat, he would have already fucked you.

The sweat pearls roll over your body. His hand pulls lightly on your hair, your head lays on his shoulder and his lips caress your soft skin. His thrusts get hectic and hard, hungry for more. You can't complain, you enjoy it. Fuck, you deserve to be treated properly! Your eyes are glassy and your lips are shaped into an O. Again and again he hits his G-spot.

"Shit, Bucky!", you moan loudly and tears run down your flushed cheeks. You clench around his cock.

“You like that, huh? You like it hard. You want to feel every inch of me.”, he grunts into your ear. Your vision blurries. The climax builds up in you.

"I ... I'm about to cum.”, you say out of breath. Your walls hug his erection more and more, your thighs shake excitedly.

"I got you, doll. Cum for me.”, Bucky replies in a soft voice and plays around with your clitoris. Your view is covered by white spots and you whine loudly. Something explodes in you. You cum all over his cock. He also fills you up with his seeds. He slowly fucks you down from your climax. Breathless, you put your upper body on the cool counter and try to calm down. The orgasm was huge and intense. Even now, tears are still rolling down your cheeks. "Shh ... it's alright.", he whispers softly and runs his hand through your hair. Your breath slowly normalizes.

—

"Will it be a little quieter next time?", Sam asks, not looking up from his cell phone. Clint slaps him on the back of the head. With red cheeks you sit on the couch. Wanda, next to you, smiles encouragingly.

"He's doing a good job, isn't he?", Natasha says with a grin and you put your head in your hands with a sigh.

"Hello, dear friends!", a friendly voice calls and you look up with wide eyes.

"Thor!", you rejoice loudly and lure Steve, Bruce, Vision and Bucky into the living room.

"Hey buddy. Nice to see you again.", Steve smiles and sits down on one of the countless armchairs. The rest also sits down.

"Do you have a solution?", Bruce asks curiously and gets straight to the point.

"Yeah ... just I don't know if it’ll please you.”, Thor explains with a sympathetic smile. You frown. What will it be?

“Spit it out already.”, Sam replies with interest.

"The only solution to your connection is real love between you.”, Thor says, looking alternately at you and Bucky.

“Well, fuck."

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buckysforeverprincess · 4 years

Text

Can Our Love Survive? Ch. 2

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Words: 1342

Warnings: None really

A/N: welcome back! Hope you enjoyed chapter 1. This chapter focuses on the relationship the reader has with Natasha. The reader depends on this friendship and you’ll find out more about why in later chapters. For now, enjoy the banter between the two!

**TAG LIST IS OPEN UNTIL CHAPTER 15, PLEASE SEND AN ASK**

A few weeks had passed since you’d met Bucky in the hallway. He seemed like a great guy with an even better personality, and you knew your first impression of him was correct. You were falling for this guy, hard and fast. The problem was, he didn't know it and you certainly weren't about to rush into a confession of attraction to Mr. Hot As Fuck!

It's not that you didn't have the opportunity to talk to him and could’ve done so countless times over. Bucky and Steve were seemingly attached at the hip and wherever one was, the other wasn't far behind. Bucky had even become a fixture at your house, hanging with Steve, doing homework or whatever bro thing guys do. There was a serious bromance boiling between the two and you were not getting in the middle of that. Nat even started referring to the two as “Stucky” and it fit them like a glove.

Besides, your anxiety made it near impossible to interact with him. He'd already seen you have a panic attack during your first meeting, and even though he didn't have a negative reaction, you couldn't stand the thought of him thinking of you as Steve’s creepy sister. Too many people already though that about you so, it's best just to stay quietly in the shadows and just exist. No reason to draw anymore extra attention to yourself.

You were so lost in thought sitting by yourself in the lunchroom, you didn't hear your best friend approach.

“Y/N!” Nat yells, breaking you out of your trance. “I've been calling your name. Are you deaf?”

“Yes, yes I am. Can't you see my hearing aid?” You smirk, pointing to the ear that was clearly void of a hearing device.

Nat doesn’t look impressed and rolls her eyes at you. “I must’ve missed seeing it with your head shoved so far up your own ass. What are you doing here alone, anyway?”

“Uh, pretty sure I'm doing what everyone else is doing and eating lunch?” It comes out as more of a question. You could already tell this was not going to end well. Nat knew you were deflecting and wasn’t about to put up with your shit.

“Ok…,” she says a little too calmly for your liking, “I'm not buying whatever it is you’re selling. You've been too quiet lately and it ends now. If you continue to isolate yourself, you’re letting him win. It's time to move forward and forget what that ass hole and his friends did to you.”

Sighing heavily, you know she's right, but you still crawl into yourself a little more. “Nat… it's not that easy-”

“The hell it isn't!” Nat cuts you off, a burning fury in her eyes. “He used you, and once he was done, he let his friends humiliate you. That piece of shit took advantage of your kindness and left you feeling like you were at fault! You know none of what happened was your fault and I’ll be damned if you continue to shut yourself off from anything new because of that raving lunatic!”

You could feel your eyes start to water. Everything she said was true, but you just hated knowing you ultimately let it happen. The result of trusting Brock Rumlow was a ruined reputation, humiliation from everyone at school, anxiety and panic attacks, and shutting people out and keeping others at a safe distance. Only your core group of friends knew what really happened, and that was stressful knowing you had let them down by not listening to their advice in the first place.

“Nat, can we please not talk about this?” You began wiping the tears from your eyes, upset from the mention of “he who must not be named”.

“Alright…,” she conceded, “…let's talk about something else. How's James?” She throws you a pointed smirk.

You chuckle and shrug your shoulders. “Wouldn't know. You'd have to ask Steve. Why, are you interested?” You try to deflect again, not wanting to address her question.

“Y/N, you know he's not my type, but he is yours. You should talk to him.”

You laughed out loud, Nat watching you with her trademark stoic face looking none too pleased by your new-found amusement. “Yeah, I'm not about that life at this time. I've given up talking to guys for Lent.”

“Good thing Easter is in the spring and not fall, you've got plenty of time to make a move.”

Her quick-witted reply makes you roll your eyes. “And what makes you think this’ll turn out any better than last time?”

Nat leans in, her eyes locked on yours. “Because, darling… I'm giving you the go ahead. I never did before.”

“You never said anything.” You remind her.

“My silence on the matter should have told you my feelings. For someone so smart, you can be so dense. Besides, I think he likes you and Steve can vouch for him.”

“Now look who's dense” You joked. “All the more reason to stay away. I can't come between a Stucky romance. Think of the children!” You laughed, using Nat's nickname for the pair.

“Look, all I'm saying is talk to him, not plan your future wedding. Let him know there's more to you than the rumor mill and panic attacks. James could be the one to surprise you.”

“Nat... I just can't. Look...,” you pointed to the other end of the lunch room.

Nat turns and focuses her attention to Steve and Bucky. They were surrounded by a few of your mutual friends, one of them being her current love interest, Sam. The boys were surrounded by some of the more popular girls in the school, the ones who had helped to humiliate you after word got out about what happened between you and Brock, and they had their claws set on Bucky.

“What I see is a guy who's just being nice. Don't let them get to you.” She turns back around to face you.

“Kinda hard not to…. they know how to get what they want,” it comes out as a whisper and sounding slightly hurt. You knew you’d never be that pretty and overly confidante. You were shy and reserved and hella awkward. Certainly not the girl of anyone's dreams.

Nat looked at you and you could see the gears turning. “I'll make you a deal. You talk to him, really talk to him, and after a month if he doesn't like you even more than I'm sure he already does, I'll let you drive my car.”

You were shocked. Nat owned a black 1970 Pontiac GTO Judge with white racing stripes courtesy of her grandfather. She never let anyone drive her piece of American muscle.

“For a week?” You began contemplating her offer.

She huffed but resigned to her fate. “Agreed, but no half ass attempts. You need to go all in! That car means way too much to me, so I need some serious effort outta you.”

“Aww Nat, I knew you loved me! I promise, no half assing it.” You smiled.

You looked at the clock and noticed this entire conversation took up your whole lunch hour. “We better go, teachers gotta get paid.” You grabbed your trash and walked to the nearest exist, Nat following you out the door towards your next class.

“One-month Y/N, starts now…and you know I never make a bet I can't win.” Nat says, confidence radiating out of her pores.

“Wait, what do I get if I win?” You called out to her as she walks away.

“Prince Charming and a fairy tale ending.” Nat smirks and walks away down the hall.

“Shit.” You sighed and scrunched your face. How the hell were you going to pull this off? There was no way Bucky liked you, Nat was fooling herself. You were just Steve’s sister. Nothing special. So, how were you going to get his attention and win the guy of your dreams? Fuck, if you knew. How the hell was this even your life?

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#can our love survive #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #eventual bucky x reader #james barnes #james bucky barnes #steve rogers #steven grant rogers #slow burn #marvel #marvel au #marvel characters

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theawkwardundercoverwriter · 4 years

Text

Bucky X Reader

Description: Bucky and Y/N in the 40s. If Steve had a younger sister this is how I imagine their lives would be. (Inspiration and scenes from Captain America: The First Avenger). Not factually accurate.

Warnings: Abuse, swearing and of course amateur writing. No editing has been done.

Part One:

No matter how many times you madly readjust your hair the purple blotches only deepen above your eye.

“No no please.” You murmur to yourself. The overwhelming sense of panic runs down your spine as you note the time on the wooden grandfather clock that sits almost mockingly above the fireplace. Steve would be home anytime now most likely with Bucky in tow. Ever since your parents died both Steve and Bucky have gone the extra mile to look after you. Both held a protective gaze over you at all times. If either of them saw you in this current state they would flip.

You grab your powder, smothering it above your eye causing you to wince - mostly in frustration that the welts couldn’t be covered to the extent you want them to be.

You feel completely stupid as you evaluate the damage left on your body. You had a cut on your forearm that was still bleeding. A trickle of blood is currently seeping through your dress sleeve. The new shoes that Steve somehow managed to buy for your birthday are scuffed, and the bow of your hat remains detached, lying on the floor. You had gotten into a fight with your boyfriend, Eric. You’ve been courting him for only a couple of months, but his nasty side becomes increasingly evident as each day passes. He’d enlisted for the army, he, of course, had the extra pressure of serving his country as his father was the mayor of Brooklyn, Fiorello H. La Guardia. He had to go and fight in the war; his drafting day inches closer and closer which means his explosive nature heightens. The fight you two had was over Bucky. He as usual accused you of having feelings for your brother’s best friend. You didn’t try to deny it, because deep down, you both knew it was true. Bucky’s smile had the power to mend any ache. He is your rock, especially when your mom died. You wouldn’t know where you would be without him. He knew all your secrets, all your fears and how to make you laugh like no one else. No man could ever make you feel the way he did. Watching Bucky go on countless dates broke your heart, it nearly tears you apart at the near mention of another woman. But you ignore the dull ache in your chest; instead of pining over your brother’s best friend you alter your attention elsewhere. You decided that you didn’t want to be heartbroken by this beautiful man anymore so instead, you came up with a plan. Erica was the answer to get over Bucky.

He beats you. He yells at you. But you still stay. You figure you aren’t exactly innocent when it comes to Eric and his drama. You are and have been using him, maybe not on purpose, but if you were being honest with yourself, he’s a distraction. It made you a guilty party in this mess. So you stayed and remained silent. If anyone found out the mayor's son was hitting his lady, there would be a huge scandal. Your reputation would be damaged and Steve would run off and get himself killed if he and Eric ever came face to face.

Rushing around the room you quickly change into another dress, discarding the stained one into a ball at the bottom of the closet. You fumble in the kitchen cabinet looking for bandages. The number of times you’ve had to fish them out of the draw for Steve when he came home beaten and bloody has gotten you familiar with first aid.

Two familiar voices irrupt in laughter from outside the walls of your home. “Crap.” You hiss as your fingers fumble with the bandage.

“Ah, I can’t find my key.” Steve huffs from outside the door. Tying the bandage up and pulling your sleeve down you take a deep breath attempting to calm yourself.

“Seriously man? Again?” Bucky laughs. You hear some movement and scuffling outside. You assume it’s Buck grabbing the spare key from underneath the loose brick just outside the apartment. A few seconds later the key jingles in the keyhole and the door swings open.

“Hey Stevie, did you manage to get some bread while you were out?” You call walking towards both men pretending that it was any other normal day.

“Sorry Y/N, I got caught up. I’ll get us some tomorrow.” He shoots you an apologetic smile. You walk towards them ready to give him an ear full when something stops you dead in your tracks.

Bucky stands proud and tall in his army uniform. Gold flakes dance in his blue eyes as he drinks in your appearance.

“You’ve got your orders?” You nearly choke out.

“Yeah, first thing tomorrow.” You swallow the thick lump that’s formed in your throat. “Y/N, don’t look so sad.” He gently coos. Bucky pulls you into his side, gently rubbing his fingers up and down your arm in an attempt to comfort you, but it does nothing to soothe your aching heart. You dreaded this very day. His hand continues to trace soft patterns as he senses your unease but he soon hesitates. His hand hovers over the bandage hiding under your sleeve. Your eyes interlock and immediately a rush of panic overloads your body as he starts to notice the messy hair, the overdone makeup and the bandages sprawled out in the kitchen. You can see his mind working overtime, putting all the pieces together. His eyes burn into your soul and for a second you are convinced he can see right through you. Quickly pulling your hand away you turn your attention to Steve. Examing his appearance you notice the bruises on his face. They were nearly identical to yours.

“Seriously Steven? Again?” You huff, “You got into another fight? Who was it with this time?” You begin to fuss over him but he swats your hands away, not allowing you to fully inspect his wounds.

“Y/N I’m fine.” He wines.

“Honestly is it too much to ask to just walk away?” You can feel Bucky’s eyes scanning your appearance but you ignore him.

“Are you going out tonight Doll?” Bucky quizzes.

“Yeah what’s with the clown makeup, you don’t need it Y/N, you’re beautiful, just like mom,” Steve interjects. “ And I promise I will be careful next time.” He says while planting a soft kiss on your cheek. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

You roll your eyes; you’ve heard that before.

“I haven’t made dinner because I’m going to the Stark Expo.” You answer Bucky while staring at your bare feet.

“Oh so are we, I just need to get cleaned up.” Steve groans, “Double dates are never fun, but here I am, getting pressured into this situation, again.” He walks into the cupboard retrieving a new tie without any bloodstains leaving you and Bucky alone.

You silently plead for Steve to come back.

“Who are you going with?” Bucky asks. He steps closer to you, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You can feel his warmth radiating against your skin. You ignore the shivers he sends up your spin and silently curse at Bucky as butterflies explore in your stomach.

“With Eric.” You reply, trying to will yourself out of Bucky’s grasp.

“Is that who did this to you?” He replies softly in your ear but you notice his jaw tighten. You pull away, scrambling to find your shoes and purse.

“I’m running late, I have to leave now. Eric is probably wondering where I am.” You shout loud enough for Steve to hear from the other room.

“Wait sis, we will walk you. I’ll just be a minute.” Steve calls out to you.

“You can tell me, doll. I promise I won’t get Steve involved.” He pleads, searching your eyes for the truth.

“I will see you later tonight. Don’t leave without saying goodbye to me okay?” You ignore him. You reach on your tippy-toes and place a soft gentle kiss on his cheek.

“I’m all good Steve! Stay at least a mile away from me tonight at all times.” You yell as you reach for the front door.

“Take care of him tonight.” You instruct Bucky as you fly out the door. It takes every bit of strength to hold in the tears that so desperately want to escape.

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Part Two:

The stench of the alcohol burns your tongue as Eric pulls you in for a sloppy kiss. Passer bys shoot you dirty looks as Eric continues to make a show of PDA.

“I’m sorry about today. I won’t happen again.” He mumbles into his flask. You were currently leaning up against the fence watching the crowd play fun carnival games and dance the night away.

You’d only been here for an hour, and so far you’d engaged in zero fun. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Bucky, Steve and two other girls. Steve looks uncomfortable, while the blonde woman looks bored. The brunette is attached to Bucky at the hip. However, Bucky’s glances haven’t gone unnoticed. About half-an-hour ago he spotted you with Eric and has made a conscious effort to stay close ever since. The sight of him in his uniform causes tears to pool in your eyes. There was a chance he was going to die and that very thought made you want to breakdown and scream.

“Seriously Y/N? You can’t keep your eyes off him can you?” Eric’s voice booms, as he takes another swig of his flask. “You can’t help yourself!” He gets considerably louder causing some heads to turn.

“Eric I wasn’t-” You start.

“Don’t. Lie. To. Me.” He hisses in a tone so deadly the pit of your stomach drops.

“Eric it’s not like that.” You begin to explain. Familiar fear creeps in. If you didn’t shut this down now, a very public scene would occur. Eric is twice your size, so any attempt of getting away is slim. He pulls you into his firm grip and tightens each time you squirm.

“You’re a filthy bitch.” You cry out as he pushes you back into the fence. You stumble back dropping your purse.

“Hey, that’s my sister!” You hear Steve say as he charges at Eric. You and Steve are pretty much the same in height and weight. There is no way Steve could ever take on your date. In fact, three years ago, Eric beat up your brother in one of the parking lots downtown. Steve’s face was so swollen you could barely recognise him.

“No Steve, please. Don’t.” You scream but it’s too late. Steve is on the ground groaning in a matter of seconds. Kick after kick you desperately scream at Eric to stop.

A few seconds pass, hearing a scuffle you blink furiously but your eyes are blinded by tears. The grunting seems to halt suddenly but you can’t seem to stop crying. This is your worst nightmare. The whole of New York, your brother and Bucky have just laid witness to your daily abuse.

“You’ll pay for that Barnes!” Eric’s voice screams from a distance, but the only thing you can focus on is the loud pounding in your chest.

“Hey Doll, Shh, I’m here.” A familiar voice whispers in your ear. Your body is shaking uncontrollably as the shame sets in. Bucky’s hands fly to your face assessing the damage. “Are you hurt?” He asks, but the only reply you can manage is a whimper. “Y/N? Are you hurt?” He scans your body furiously for any injuries.

“Y/N! What the heck was that?” Steve yells causing you to flinch. Your brother has never yelled at you in your life. “You need to explain this to me right now.” His eyes are filled to the brim with rage and his breathing ragged. You’d never seen him like this.

“Take a walk Steve, you're scaring her,” Bucky instructs as he finishes his examination.

“No. Buck cmon!” Steve insists.

“I said take a walk. Come back when you’ve calmed down.” Bucky says which Steve reluctantly follows. “It’s okay man, I’ve got her.” He assures.

You watch as your brother angrily picks up your purse and stalks in the opposite direction kicking a trash can in anger.

“Cmon beautiful let's sit down.” Bucky gently commands as he leads you over to the park bench he pulls you into his side protectively.

“I’ve never seen Steve so mad.” You whisper glancing down at your fingers.

“He’s just scared Y/N, he feels like he failed you as a big brother.” He sighs, as he scratches his head, “Frankly I feel like I’ve failed you as well.”

After a moment of silence Bucky speaks up, “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I didn’t want Steve to get involved. As you just saw he likes to think he can take on the world.” You mumble.

“Okay, I get why you didn’t tell Steve, but why didn’t you tell me.” He gently wipes a tear that’s managed to escape. “I would have handled this for you.”

“I don’t know,” You whisper, wishing you were anywhere other than Bucky’s accusing eyes.

“That’s not good enough Y/N, why didn’t you tell me when I asked today?” He pushes. His jaw tightens and his brows furrow.

“Because you're leaving Buck.” You finally gain the courage to look him in the eye, “You leave tomorrow, and as soon as you leave I lose the ability to count on you. I’m not stupid. I know Steve is out there, day after day trying to get shipped off into a war zone. He will either get accepted or thrown into jail for lying on the enlistment form, so I can’t rely on him either.” You swallow back the ball of cement that seems to be lodged in your throat. “I thought I could deal with this on my own, ya know, without you because soon enough, it will just be me.” You take a deep breath, “I guess I just wanted to prove to myself I could handle this.”

“Come here.” Bucky pulls you into a fierce hug and for just a split second all your troubles melt away.

“I’m always going to find my way back to you Y/N. Always.” He whispers.

“Not if you die in the war.” You whimper. “What if this is the last time I ever see you.” Your heart starts to pound in your ears as horrible thoughts burn in the back of your mind.

“Hey, shh, Doll.” He hushes, “I will come back, even if I have to crawl through barb wire or walk thousands of miles without food or water just to see your pretty face. I will. I will always find my way back to you.” He presses light kisses to your bruises and pulls you in closer.

“But I need you to promise me something.” He gently grabs your chin so you are both holding eye contact. “I need you to promise me that you won’t ever go back to him or any guy like him okay? Actually on second thought, maybe don’t go near any guy that isn’t me or Steve.” He shoots you a goofy smile and you nod causing him to let out a light chuckle.

“I’m only half-joking about that last part.” He reassures, he takes a second to think before making his declaration, “When I get back I’m taking you on a real date Y/N, I’m going to show you what true love is.” He looks down at you, adoration shining in his eyes. “I’ll make you forget all about that scum.”

You laugh, loving the sound of that. “You’ll have to tell Steve and then get his approval first.” You joke lacing your hands in his.

“He knows doll, he’s always known about my feelings for you,” Bucky whispers. For a second it feels like the world just stopped turning. Your face must mirror the confusion you feel inside because Buck laughs as you try to comprehend the words he so confidently spoke.

“You better come back to me Barnes.” You whisper as you gently kiss his lightly bruised knuckles from when he saved both you and your brother.

Bucky was and will remain your hero.

Apologies for changing the storyline of Bucky & Steve. And a double apology for not editing this but it’s 12am here.

#Bucky #Bucky barnes #sebastian x reader #sebastian stan imagines #bucky barnes imagines #fanfiction #bucky x reader #fluff

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