#And masters of the air but shhh

[sleepy-hyperfixations]

I already have 2 twt accounts, why am i abt to make a 3rd one for fucking top gun

#top gun #And masters of the air but shhh #and and and #My other interests

[precious-little-scoundrel]

WIP Game, I was kindly tagged by @mercurygray @ktredshoes @prettyinlimegreenboots @winniemaywebber @hogans-heroes

Rules being post 1-2 sentences from your latest WIP and tag as many folks as you feel like. I’m fully offering an open invitation to anyone who wants to participate. Specific tags: @softspeirs @b17boys @svkhky @homesickturner @crazymadpassionatelove @from-memphis-with-love @faegoddessog @stylespresleyhearted

Excerpt of WIP for postwar THOSE WHO CAN:

“What?” Ida was too wary to promise Egan anything but the alarm in her eyes warred with the mirth on her lips.

“I wanna make breakfast with you,” he stipulated, laying one finger down on her arm, the next followed, “wanna ask Johnny if those tips I gave him worked as well as they shoulda-“

“-Bucky you didn’t?!”

“and I wanna -course I did doll, didn’t want him making a hash of that poor girl first night, we’re counting on him to break the baby tie-“

#ok ok ok yes that was four sentences and counting I know shhh #mota #WIP GAME #snippets #masters of the air #those who can

[pursuitseternal]

“Beg me…” Ascended Astarion tells you, you naughty darling… highly NSFW drabble

Also known as I blinked and wrote 2K of dom!Ascended Astarion x turned female reader. Oops 😇😈

Ascended Astarion x f!reader |E| 2K of BDSM

Summary: you burn, waiting for his return, waiting for your punishment…. Waiting for him

CW: degradation, BDSM, bondage, orgasm denial, and the sweet satisfaction that comes with its fulfillment

Continue for your delicious recompense…

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

You lay stretched on the bed, arms numb from where they are tugged tight, bound to the headboard far above you. Your legs however, you wiggle, writhing, the ache he’s left between your thighs still burning hot.

And you are powerless to do anything about it. Your folds tingle, left untouched, unsated for the hour he’s been gone. And all you’ve been allowed to do is watch as the clock ticks, left wanting as he attends to matters of state.

Punishment.

You seemed a little too friendly with some Druid, someone… you don’t even remember his name. But the smile you gave was enough to stoke Astarion’s ire and flame his jealousy. Enough to have him sweep you away and bind you to your bed. To tease you with his fingers and tongue until you were close.. so close to bursting. Only to have him pull away.

And then he ordered you… compelled you… not to lose your focus on just how badly you wanted him.

You don’t know for certain if it was your bond, as master and bride, as maker and spawn, that kept your loins absolutely on fire for him, or if it was just the magic of your lust for him.

Does it matter? Not a jot, not as you squeeze your thighs together, the sheets beneath you soaked with your arousal as you wait.

Footsteps approach your door, whimpers escaping your mouth as you tug at your bindings. The clock begins to strike the hour, its resonant chime deafening to your ears, every sense of your body burns with overstimulation. You can almost smell him on the other side of the door, the waft of spice and bergamot making your mouth water.

Making your cunt drip more down to the bed as you hear the faint click of the key in the lock.

The bolt draws back, and he enters at last. His face is cold, eyes heavy-lidded as he turns his back on you to shut the door.

And to lock it again. Pocketing the key inside his doublet.

Your heart races, a slight edge of fear spiking your pulse and clamping around your lungs.

But he only shushes you. “Oh, you naughty little girl,” he sneers. “Glad to smell you’re still so hot for me,” he croons as he turns and crosses to the bedside. Instantly, he shoves three long, cold digits into your cunt.

The hum of approval from his throat is nearly enough to send you into bliss. But he simply withdraws his touch. Not a stroke, or a curl or catch on your clit. He merely pulls away to wipe your slick on your panting belly. “There’s hope for you yet, my sweet…” his eyes flash, his body coming to cage you in, the bed buckling beneath you as he slinks over you, careful not to let one inch of his body touch yours. “….that is assuming you still want me? That you’re not ever going to throw seductive smiles and come-hither eyes at anyone else.”

“I wasn’t…” you moan, but his hand flies to cover your mouth, fingers tangy and wet from your arousal.

“Shhh, don’t you insult me by arguing,” that gaze rakes down your naked figure. His lips curl into a sad sort of smirk. “The least you can do is assure me, darling, that you are mine…”

You nod, vigorously. Your breath stifled, his palm over your mouth and nose. He lifts it away, smiling as you gasp for air. “Yours, only ever yours, my love,” you pant. You strain against the silken bonds that still pull at your wrists.

“Better,” he purrs, “much better. Your body says as much, as well. But you’ll still have to prove it, darling. Prove to me that your words are not false.” The tips of his fingers ghost down your neck, trailing feather light between your shaking breasts and circling over your clenching belly.

His hand comes to slink beneath your ass, his hand clutching hard as suddenly he flips you on the mattress. All that power surges from him, stinging your skin as your world spins. Your numb arms ache, your face buried into the silken sheets. The sounds of his clothing rustling is the only warning you get before you feel the hard, cold lines of his body coming to rest on your back.

He bears all his weight down on you. Crushing you. Suffocating you. But his kiss at the sensitive spot beneath your ear is gentle. His voice, that honeyed melody that only makes you wetter. Hotter. “Are you going to be good, my sweet, sweet little slut, so wet and needy?” He takes your ear between his teeth, his sucking kiss deafening, making your whole spine tingle and twitch under him.

You nod, breathless, pained. You moan, “yes,” wanting nothing more than to show how much you do desire him. To show him how wrong he is to doubt you. You shiver, burning and throbbing in agony. But then you feel his kisses, trailing down the curve of your spine. Heavy, sucking, they ground you. Soothe you. His hands lift your hips, holding you steady, fingers sweeping through your drenched seam, catching your clit with just enough force to make you buck against him.

“How badly do you want me, darling?” he rasps in your ear, bracing an arm by your head to press his hissing lips right against your temple. “You tell me, you beg me, and I might do something about it, my love.”

“So badly,” you buck your hips against his hand, feeling his fingers slide deep inside your channel.

He chuckles as he strokes you. “But how badly, darling?” He withdraws his hands, his tongue lapping at your ear to send tangible shivers through your frame. “Badly enough for you to beg?” Those fingers catch that secret spot only he knows between your slick walls. “Badly enough to have you on all fours, keening for me to fuck you?”

“I… beg... you…” you do keen, relief instantly flooding your core as his fingers dive right back in, as they assume a demanding pace, one finger teasing your clit with such command and precision, your vision blurs.

“Good girl… for now… but you have been such a bad, lustful slut, you know,” he purrs into the creases of your ear, the weight of his body easing as he shifts behind you, his hand caressing over every inch of you, the other still stroking deep inside, bringing you so close to your bliss, you can taste its sweetness and feel its tingling heat just starting to crest.

But then, with a low-throated giggle, he extracts his touch, “You better beg me again for my mercy, better show me you’re not just willing to spread your legs for any powerful male that comes sniffing after you…” fingers claw into the fullness of your ass, squeezing it as he growls in your ear. “After all, you were so easy to seduce, to make you mine… always so wet and greedy and eager for a fuck… maybe a little reminder of how much you’re mine is in order.”

You feel the swell of his cock’s head pressing just at the edge of your folds.

“Remind me all you want, my love, but I know I'm yours alone,” You want to cry, tears in your eyes and drool in your mouth as you moan, “So please, dammit, I beg you. I’ll only ever be yours, and you know it.”

“I do know it,” he croons, mock condescension warming his voice as he slides his length in just an inch or two before he pulls back out, “but I do just so like to hear it from those lips of yours, darling.”

“Fuck you, Astarion,” you groan as he does it again, just the bulge of his head dipping into your wetness.

“That’s what you want… isn’t it?” he taunts you, that silken wickedness in his voice, “for me to fuck you?” An arm wraps around your waist, a single finger slides between the crest of your folds to catch your clit again.

You groan, throat going sore with how loud you cry. “Yes, please, please, my love…” you pant. “My body, my smile, my glances are only for you,” you add. Praying, as he strokes you harder, dipping his cock in you shallowly again, that it’s enough.

“Oh my sweet,” he purrs, thrusting slowly until he fills you, the delicious length, the pressure finally making you whole, “now you’ll taste my mercy.” He laughs slowly. Darkly. “I hope you’ll last, hope you’ll take it like the good girl you want to be…”

Withdrawing, he slams into you, bottoming out at the edge of your channel. Pain. Pleasure. It’s all one. The saccharine relief of him buried and thrusting inside you finally soothing that burn you’ve had festering inside you for hours. You can’t even hold your head up anymore. You can barely keep your face high enough to breathe, letting him plunder you at his relentless pace. Gasping, twitching, bucking. You put all your remaining energy you haven’t had burned up with your desire for him into just riding his cock. Another catch on your clit, and you feel yourself hurling into orgasm. His hands hold you firmly up, even as you spasm and clench so hard around him, that length is almost forced out.

He laughs, slow and deep, setting you down, rolling you on your back as you still twitch with your eyes rolled back in ecstasy. “Another four orgasms should do the trick, don’t you think, my love… enough to make you learn your lesson.”

You groan, burying your mouth into the inside of your arm to hide the noise of pleasured anguish.

Slowly, languorously, he covers you with his body, its weight a comfort and an arousal, especially as you feel his knee tuck under yours to spread your folds wide. The breadth of his cock sweeping along the seam of your cunt.

“Four?” You gulp, already feeling another wave of climax burgeoning between your thighs. He gives a little thrust of his length over you, and then another. The hardness of his erection sweeps over you, catching every nerve that flares on fire for more in your slick. Your arms tug on the restraints, your head thrown back to press hard into the bed. Every muscle in your legs clenches, heat and pain and pleasure tingle, bursting down every nerve.

You scream as you come again, but it’s muted, covered by his own devouring mouth. “Three,” he breathes over your tongue. “Perhaps more, if you’re extra obedient, an extra good girl.” Reaching over your head, his finger slips into the silken binds around your wrists, the fabric instantly easing. Your hands fly to embrace him, your touch running up and down his back, riding the scars that cover him, gripping into the pert swell to his ass, pulling him even harder into you. You sigh, his cock returning inside you with a gentle little thrust. “My little love,” he purrs as his hand cradles your cheek softly. “Forever mine…” he gives a slow, attentive thrust, the undulation of his hips catching right on every tingling, overstimulated sensitive nerve inside you. “You’ll come for me again, won’t you? And you’ll let me come too?”

“Yes,” you moan, tangling your tongue with his. “For you my love,” you whisper into his mouth, “for you I’ll come for eternity.”

For @marimosalad ❤️

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

Read More Ascended Astarion: “The Rogue You Were”

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Read More Vampire Rogue Astarion: “Bites in the Night” series

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

#ascended astarion #dom!Astarion #astarion smut #astarion x reader #astarion x female tav #astarion x f!reader #astarion x female reader #astarion x you #astarion x mc #astarion x tav #astarion baldurs gate #baldur’s gate astarion #baldur's gate 3 astarion #bg3 astarion #baldurs gate astarion #astarion fanfic #astarion fic #astarion bg3 #astarion #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 spoilers #baldurs gate smut #baldur’s gate 3 #baldur's gate #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #baldur’s gate fanfiction #baldur‘s gate #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii

[dreamofjoys]

Sebek nearly caught you and Malleus making out

— c/w: Closet sex, unprotected sex, breeding, clit rubbing, exhibitionism (kinda)

— a/n: Just some funny idea that I thought of XD

"Hnnng Malleus!" Your back arched into a crescent moon shape, pulling the dark fae's horns closer to you as he impatiently fuck his cock into a deeper position inside your cunt.

"A little m-more, dear. I am very close-" Malleus rolls his hips, getting ready to spill his seeds inside your womb. However, his eyebrows twitch in annoyance when he realized that he won't be able to breed you as planned. In an instant, Malleus had lifted your body up with him still connected inside you. You yelped at his sudden actions, hands immediately wrapping around his neck while your legs were on his waist. Malleus’s large hand was planted on your lower back with his strong arm on the back of your thighs to steady yourself. “Malleus, what are you doing-“

The fae said nothing in reply, but had instead opened up his half filled closet, stepping in and closing the door. He presses your back against his neatly hanged clothes, which was in turned push against the closet wall. “Shhh, don’t make a noise.” Malleus whispers, his hot breath fanning over your ear. Your cheeks heat up, suddenly feeling shy at the close proximity (as if the both of you weren’t fucking each other out moments before).

Malleus’s closet was surprisingly big enough to fit the both of you -along with the pile of clothes that was squashed behind you- The familiar fragrance of his clothes embraced you, making you realised that it’s his natural body smell, a woody scent. The inside was slightly stuffy and dark due to the lack of air circulation and lighting, but you were sure that Malleus can still see well with his enhanced eyesight, unlike you who could only make out his figure.

Just as you were about to open your mouth and ask Malleus what’s going on, a loud slam was heard. “WAKA-SAMA!” Sebek’s loud voice boomed across the room, heavy foot steps trotting across the room. You could already imagine his confused yet serious expression searching for Malleus in his room. Your heart beats rapidly in your chest, praying that Sebek is at least smart (and dumb) enough to not search for Malleus in his closet. A beat of sweat trickles down the side of your temple, and you could feel Malleus smirking at your nervousness. When the sound of Sebek’s footsteps got louder, you peaked under the small gaps on the closet to see that the crocodile was just standing right in front of the both of you. Malleus took this distraction to let his hand travel down to your sex, his thumb rubbing onto your sensitive clit while his fingers strokes your wet folds. His cock was still rock hard inside you, penetrating your womb as he starts moving his hips slowly.

You whipped your head to look at Malleus, eyes widening in surprise as his hands continues assaulting your poor sex right beside his retainer. You bite your lips, shaking your head to tell Malleus to stop but he seems to enjoy the sight of you squirming and trying to keep your noises to yourself. “Wait, why is master’s clothes on the ground? And there’s someone else’s clothes too? DID THEY KIDNAP MASTER?!” You threw your head back at the stacked of clothes, mentally laughing at Sebek’s analysis, but also partly because of the overwhelming pleasure that is being inflicted on your sex. The tight knot in your stomach was releasing soon. Sensing that you could no longer keep quiet, Malleus dives down to capture your soft lips in his, swallowing down your noises.

The both of you continued kissing and making love in the closet. It is only when Sebek leave Malleus’s room, then did he start picking up his pace to fuck you into oblivion. Moments later, the both of you came together in that stuffy closet. His cum mixed with yours had started dripping out of your filled cunt down to your asshole, staining Malleus’s washed clothes behind you.

You were the first to broke the kiss, looking up to Malleus and giving him your deadliest glare. “What if Sebek finds out about it?!” You hit Malleus’s shoulders, making him chuckle as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

“He won’t.”

“What if he did?”

“Then that’s what he get for interrupting me from breeding you.”

#twisted wonderland #dreamofjoystwst #malleus draconia #imagines #y/n #diasomnia #twst malleus #twst smut #tw smut #malleus hcs #malleus x reader #twisted wonderland malleus #twst malleus smut #malleus smut

[msookyspooky]

Goin' Hunting

You've been running from Bo all around Ambrose for the last hour...And he finally catches you in the woods.

Bo Sinclair x AFAB!Reader • CNC • Dubcon • S/M • Master/Submissive • Primal Play • Outdoor Sex • Rough Penetration VP • Fingering • Humiliation • Domination • Degredation • Praise Kink • Later; Established Relationship and Brat Dynamic from Reader

No Word Count. Not proofread.

Your heart pounded as you sprinted to the woods. God damn it, you were so close! So fucking close to escaping.

Gasping for air, legs aching, knees weak and stumbling as you kept running...You heard a long...Low... Whistle...Somewhere behind you in the woods.

You froze, plastering yourself up against a tree. Sweat was dripping down your face and into your eyes as you blinked it away. It was pitch black outside except for a Quarter Moon. Bryer bushes scrapped exposed skin except for your jeans and flannel. It was October in Ambrose...Still warm for Louisiana but there was a damp heaviness in the air that made a chill ghost over your skin.

"C'mon out, darlin'....Ya ain't gettin' away. Ya know this...YER JUS' MAKIN' IT HARDER ON YERSELF!" He yelled out with both amusement and frustration lacing his thick Southern Accent. He was a predator. Through and through. He looked at you not like a human but like some scared little rabbit running from him.

You knew what he'd do if he caught you.

You covered your mouth, eyes wide to try and not say anything. Trying not to whimper as your eyes darted to the side.

He was in blue coveralls and that hat that read sweetbird 69. His tall broad shouldered frame crept past your tree and you felt your heart drop out. Trembling with anxiety as he looked around and looked the other way before huffing to himself and walking away from back where he came.

You felt your shoulders untense as you finally took a tiny, quiet breath you were holding. Slowly releasing your mouth and waiting a few moments. You snuck a peek seeing he wasn't there. He must have went back to the road or to Ambrose to hunt for you.

You took the risk to make a run for it. Lester! If you could get to the road, if he saw you, he could get you out of here and you could win this.

You shoved off the tree taking off before releasing a scream when you got tackled to the ground.

"GOTCHYA!"

You struggled and he slammed you down with a grin. "Shh, shhhh." He told you as you fought him. Trying to crawl away from under him with fistfuls of leaves and soil in your fingers as he just grabbed you by your thighs and dragged you back to him.

"I don't think so, honey." He growled out and with a slight grunt flipped you onto your back where you had even less leverage.

"Get the fuck off me!" You yelled, teeth gritted as you tried shoving him off. "Motherfucker, get off!!"

He just chuckled at your attempts to shove his big self. He was well over 6'1, probably close to or was 180 lbs of muscle mostly and had an aggression in him that just spurred him on.

He grabbed your jaw and squished your cheeks. "Shhh...Shh, it's okay. It's over now. Ya aint gotta fight no more."

You kept struggling, grunts and cries escaping you as you screamed.

"Go ahead! Scream all ya want, sweetheart. Yer gonna be doin' plenty of it tonight...Ain't nobody around to hear ya." He mused with a sadistic smirk.

You tried to use your hand to shove him off by his face and he just grabbed both your wrist and jerked them down. Pinning them to your sides. Your heart hammered, your body trembled, a tingling went through your whole body at realizing just how strong he was. No matter your strength, he was stronger and had the upperhand...He could do whatever he wanted and you were helpless.

He smiled down at you. A bit of sweat curling his hair near his forehead as he caught his breath a bit from chasing you. "Yer a fun one, ain't ya?" He shoved you down more as you flinched with wide eyes. "Gave me quite a workout chasin' yer fine ass all over town. But I won. And now? I think I deserve a prize for winnin'."

He came foreward and tried to kiss you and you tried to bite him. He just laughed heartily in amusement at you. "Biting are we? I didn't take you for a feral dog...More like a sweet lil toy I get to use...Is that what you are? My toy I get to use?"

"Fuck you!"

"Don't you worry bout that. Imma do plenty of it out here." He retorted with a dark chuckle.

"You'll never get away with this! You don't have to do this, I won't tell, please!" You tried to reason as you felt him switch your wrist so he had you by one hand, pinned over your head. The other large hand of his roamed with that black and silver ring reflecting off the moon every so often. You could see his veins in his hand as he jerked at your belt and you whimpered and shook your head.

"Hey." He sternly told you before his voice became sweet and mocking once more. "You're gonna be a good lil thing for me, ain't ya? It'll only hurt for a lil bit. Jus' a few minutes of pain, nothin' too bad. I'll be done before ya know it."

He unsnapped your belt with one hand and worked on the button of your jeans as you fought and struggled in a panic. "N-No! No, don't-"

He cut you off by shhing you again. His blue eyes gleaming down at you with his pupils dilated. A sick smirk on his face. He was enjoying seeing you almost in tears, seeing you scared, feeling you fight him. He was a sadist, that was for sure.

You screamed and used your last bit of strength to knee him in the lower side as hard as you could. He grunted as you got away. But just enough to get a foot away before he grabbed you while you both were still on the ground.

He shoved you into a sitting position against the base of a tree. "Now, why ya fightin' for? Yer jus' makin it worse on yerself!...That knee kinda hurt, sweetheart. " He grinned that lopsided grin of his with his brows furrowed a bit. "The more ya fight, the worse its gonna get. I was gonna go easy on ya but now? I think you need tore up a lil bit. Need those sexy thighs to have some bruises even a few welts on that nice ass too-" He smacked the side of your ass through your jeans with a smirk. "I think you can handle it."

You stared at him with wide eyes as he held you by the throat up against the tree. On his knees while you sat. Everytime you raised an arm he squeezed tight enough to make your vision blurred. Once your arms fell to your sides he loosened it just enough to let you get tiny breaths of air. "Good...tha's a good toy for me."

You had tears in your eyes, gasping for air, sweat dripping off you as you could do nothing now. He was in control and he knew it. You felt small, helpless, vulnerable.

You whimpered with a cut off cry as you felt his calloused fingers dip into your jeans and feel your pussy. Running along the outers lips and just barely dipping in.

He pulled his hand out with a giant grin and a laugh at how wet you were. Coating his fingers in long slick trails of wetness from...The excitement? Adrenaline? Your body just reacting to this situation? Either way, you jerked your head away with shame.

"Ain't that jus' beautiful... It's like you know jus' how to turn yerself on...." He ripped your jeans off and then ripped at that flannel to expose you more. "I think yer startin' to like this, baby...Do you like this? Do you like knowing I can take whatever I want from your body and you can't do nothin' to stop it? Ya like the rush of fightin' an' runnin' from me?"

You furiously shook your head and gasped when you felt his thumb make rough circles over your clit. Jolting and trying to squirm away with no where to go. He used his hand to jerk your head to look at him while he kept rubbing your now hardening clit. "Ah, ah. Yer gonna look at me and tell me how much this is turning you on."

You shook your head with his fingers still digging into your jaw. You grit your teeth trying to ignore the heat pooling in your lower abdomen. "No...No, I don't."

He smirked. "Really? That why yer pussys so wet?" He jeered. "Now...Say it."

You refused stubbornly and he pinched your clit lightly hood and all. Your back arched and jolted in pain and pleasure at the same time. But the pain was a bit more as he did it again harder this time as you forced out with shut clenched eyes. "I enjoy it!"

He chuckled and gently rubbed soothing circles over your aching clit. "There ya go...Oh sweetheart. That is so sensitive! I can't wait to make ya scream for me." He grabbed your chin roughly again and forced you to look at him while he rubbed you there.

You tried so hard not to give him the satisfaction of seeing your body betray you. But your brows rose up and your mouth parted as he smeared some wetness over your clit and used two calloused fingers to rub underneath and all around your aching bundle of nerves.

He smirked that lopsided toothy grin at you. "I don't know about you, Sweetheart, but my bodies tellin' me to take somethin' from this lil situation...What's yer body tellin' you?"

You whisper to him, face hot and tears in your lashes. "P-Please, don't."

A dark brow rose as his fingers dipped down lower. "Yer beggin'? Funny, I don't remember askin'. Ya need to realize somethin' here, darlin'...I'M in charge. Not you. And I don't remember askin' for permission or askin' if you wanted this...This is allll for me."

"P-Please-"

"Hush." He jeered, seeming to get short with you as his thick masculine digit barely went in before he took it out and did two. Your mouthed opened in a shaky gasp as he kept talking. "Now we're gonna do this my way. You just need t' shut up and let me enjoy this moment without all that bitchin'."

His fingers stretched you but there wasn't too much resistance with how wet you were. Just a short moment of discomfort with the sudden stretch before he started curling his fingers and twisting them up into that cushioned frontal wall. The man was the devil.

You couldn't even contain the whimpering moan as he kept a firm grip on your chin so he could see your face at all times.

"Oh God, don't." You softly moan out as he just picked up the pace on your already adrenaline high turned on body.

"I don't think ya get it, darlin'...This is happening one way or another. Here in Ambrose, yer gonna learn what I say goes and if I want to make yer body get an ounce of pleasure before I have my fun then that's jus' how it'll be...Just relax." He cooed the last part with an evil smirk.

This wasn't for your benefit. He just loved forcing it out of you. Loved seeing the shame on your face as your own body betrays you.

You released a sobbing sort of moan. He leaned forward. "Just...Give in Sweetheart." He chuckled and got closer to whisper in your ear. "I'm sure you'll enjoy yerself. Jus' let it feel good."

His fingers kept doing that upward tickling motion on your g spot as your thighs started to quiver. A gasp escaped you as he kept coaxing you with his fingers and his words to cum.

He grinned when you moaned louder, feeling your inner muscles clench his fingers a bit as that heated started pooling in you. "Oh, no more fight in ya, huh? Where did that fiesty lil fighter go?" He pulled his fingers out as you whined in protest. So close you could almost taste it. "Oh so you liked that. Well you ain't enjoying nothin' without me." He started undoing the fly on his coveralls.

You tried to have some resistance. Some form of pride left as you felt tears running down your cheeks and you numbly shook your head. In a pleading tone. "No."

He sternly told you in a half sneer half smirk. "I don't remember askin' you a damn thing about what you wanted." He pulled himself out. Hard as can be and even leaking a bit as he pumped his cock a few times "Whaddya think this dance is for? Yer in Ambrose now. This is what we do to sexy lil things like you that get in over their head."

He grabbed your arms and pushed in. Your head reeled back and...God damn...He felt...Good. He shouldn't! But his was such a perfect size and shape to you in your nervous, excited, fearful and turned on body. You could feel a second hearbeat in your clit and your inner walls ached. They ached so bad from his teasing that the stretch felt like much needed itch that had to be stratched. It hurt a little at how forceful he pushed in but it hurt so good at the same time as your head snapped back and your hips bucked at the sudden intrusion with a strangled cry from your lips.

He chuckled, not moving for only a few seconds. Grinning in pure sadistic pleasure. "Oh you like that, don't ya?" He pulled out thrust forward with a harsh grunt while gripping your hair; forcing you to look at him. "If I remember correctly, this whole thing!-" He thrust harshly again as you saw stars and felt a deep aching soreness in your lower abdomen that hurt but fuck it was a good hurt. The type of pain that was easily overlooked for the building pleasure you were feeling. "-Started from you trying to fight me so hard!" He grunted again through clenched teeth as he thrust hard into you, this time it hit deep and you cried in pain a little. "Well how you like it now, huh? Ya like it rough?"

You tried to bite your lip and shake your head and then the bastard switched it up. Pulling out halfway and doing short but fast trusts right on your g spot and you groaned low in your throat. He laughed at that.

"Oh yes you do, darlin'. All that fighting in the beginning? You just wanted me to get this out of your system." He kept thrusting grunting a bit as he leaned in and nibbled at your ear. "You like it when I'm in charge. Yer just too shy to admit it."

You gasp and tremble as that thrusting is so damn firm and hard and fast and the fucker angled his hips upward. He knew what he was doing as you felt your inner muscles involuntarily clench around him.

"There we go, beautiful. Now ya ain't thinkin' bout it s' hard." He raised your chin to look at him. "Ya don't wanna ruin this moment. Cause this might be the best moment of whatever time you got left...So just enjoy the ride." He let go of your chin and shoved your thighs upward while thrusting deeper and fadter. "Oooh fuck, baby...Shit." He grunted out with a tiny moan himself as he went hard in you.

Your eyes rolled back and a tiny grunt of 'no', 'please', 'I can't' escaped you every thrust as your inner muscles betrayed you. Starting to do a milking motion around his cock on their own as he moaned a bit.

"Oh, that's it. S' good for me...It's alright, sweetheart. Nobody has to know ya like this. This can be yer dirty lil secret."

"I d-don't." You forced out not even believing it yourself as your face screwed up in pleasure the deeper he went.

"Hah, there's that face again." He grunted out with a slight smirk. Sweating and face flushed as he drove into you. "Ya can't hide it, darlin'. I can see it in yer eyes. I know you like this. Your sweet pussy keeps suckin' me in...Sopping wet....Urgh!" He groaned when you involuntarily clenched and it made his face screw up into a sneer as he pounded you on the forest floor against the base of that tree. He jerked your head back by your hair. "You love this. It's why I can make ya do anything. You're mine in Ambrose. You do what I say and you love it or learn t' love it."

"Noo-" You moaned out feeling yourself getting closer as tears kept pricking your eyes.

"Yes!" He laughed out through a moan while his blue eyes stared into yours. "You're doin' such a good job of makin' this fun for me. What a good toy you are, fightin' me and actin' like you don't like it. Yer goddamn pathetic, darlin'. A filthy, naughty lil liar whose pussy is betrayin' em."

You trembled, high pitched cries escaping you. "Yess-" You shook yourself realizing with shame you just said that. "No." You gasped.

He grinned while he kept thrusting a spot you seemed to like. "Yeah, ya like it. I think this whole chase was jus' you puttin' up some walls so you didn't look so desperate...You're so pathetic darlin'. Don't try to fake it. You love this. Maybe I'll keep ya around a lil longer and walk ya around Ambrose on a leash? Show anyone and everyone what a good pet I can make you be...You'll get addicted to this, sweetie...Good lil whore-"

You couldn't contain it any longer as those wonderful tingles and seering heat just washed over you. You hung your head back and yelled out in orgasmic bliss as he kept fucking you. He was right, you did scream. You couldn't even hold it back and you didn't want to. This was too damn animalistic and primal and wrong not to cry out.

He stuttered his hips a bit at how hard your pussy was clenching him as your hips bucked. "Fuckin' shit, honey." He gasped out. As soon as you calmed down and your muscles where just contracting every so often he huffed with a smirk. "Ooh you are such a lil freak, darlin! I haven't had one like you in too damn long. Maybe I was wrong...You're not pathetic, yer disgusting. Yer body doesn't lie as much as yer mouth does." He leered with a sadistic grin as he panted while thrusting.

You laid there satisfied. The adrenaline gone...The game over as you gave him a lazy smirk while he kept thrusting.

He looked a bit perplexed while moving slower in you. "What's that face for? Ya finally ready to admit yer nothin' but a naughty toy for me?"

You grinned and leaned forward to kiss his nose. He completely stopped thrusting. Looking with wide eyes and a faint tinge to his face before giving you a wry smirk. "Hey, jus' cause the games over for you don't mean it is for me....Stop bein' sweet, damn it."

You chuckled, blissed out on cloud nine. God Damn that was the type of orgasm that...You need a nap, a drink, a cigarette. Fuck. All you could do was with tear streaked cheeks and watery eyes and a heated face just give him that dumb satisfied grin.

He thrust a few more times before you decided to help a bit. Tired of the game and wanting your lover to hurry up so you could go shower and cuddle in bed all night. You used those inner muscles to clench and unclench while swiveling your hips the best way you could. He gasped out. "Hey! Heey, I'm in charge!... Urgh, fuckin' damn it YN!" He screwed his face shut and groaned low in his throat as he thrusted a few more times before panting and staying in one spot. "...Shit....Uh fuck." He panted out before looking back up at you. Giving you an annoyed look.

"...We'll have to think of a better punishment for you. Yer too damn freaky and I'm gonna have to be creative. Yer such a bad lil thing." He finally cracked a smile himself.

You were out of subspace. The chase and fighting and roleplay was over as you huffed with a coy smile. "I am not."

He pulled out of you and just held you for a moment. "Oh, yes you are. It's okay to be naughty jus' don't be so stubborn bout it." He looked at you before kissing your forehead with a sigh. "But it does make it more fun. You're such a perfect toy...Still gotta make you work for it though."

I scoffed. "Why?"

He smirked down at you. "Cause you'll be the most spoiled brat if I let you get whatever you want whenever you want. You're insatiable. I'll never get anything done around here!"

"Oh no, spoiling me? How awful." You chuckled and he smiled fondly down at you in return.

He stared down at you, using his thumb to caress your cheek. This was...It was interesting. You WERE a victim...You and him bonded during your time in that room. What started out as a supposed Master/Slave dynamic quickly became something more the more he got to know you. He fought it hard but after a while he couldn't deny his caring for you. You were that missing piece. It helped your inner freak matched his. You brought out his sadism to the point he rarely got other victims. You were too fun. And he brought out that side of you that wanted to be dominated and taken care of. This chade thing was your idea after you taunted him he was gonna get too tired to chase victims eventually anyways. All it took was a 'wanna bet?' and that predatory sadistic look in his eyes and you took off in both fear and glee making him work for it the last hour. You playing like you hated it and fighting him was all part of the game.

"What?" You asked as he gazed down at you.

"...Thinking how much I hate you. How damn soft you've made me." He had his hand around your throat. "Should've killed ya months ago. Ain't never let a toy get this comfortable."

You knew he was bluffing as you gazed up at him with soft eyes. You quickly found a look that made him weak and you pulled it out when you really needed it. His eye twitched in irritation as he kissed you. "Damn you..."

You kissed him chaste and sweet before telling him pleasantly. "You love me."

I tiny smile tried tugging his lips. "I tolerate you." He lost the smile, sighed, then just let it come back again. "...I do care for ya quite a bit though, honey. I ain't felt like this in too damn long."

"Sounds like love but you're too stubborn. C'mon, say it. 'I love you'."

"Glad to hear you admit it, brat." He huffed in bemusement while giving mock anger. "You ain't in charge here."

"Come oonnn, it's just us in the woods! Ain't like you haven't said it before. " You teased softly.

He groaned, rolling his eyes and acting more annoyed then you knew he was. "Fine. I love ya, ya fuckin' pain in the ass....Should've left the glue on yer mouth when I had you tied to that chair." He sighed with a slight smirk. "Come on. Let's go home." He helped you up. His body language of steadying you and his eyes roaming over you to make sure he didn't hurt you as much as normal victims; betrayed him. You were so tempted to retort 'something something...Body's not lying as much as your mouth does-" But you relented. Getting your pants back on.

You flinched when moving.

He looked pleased with himself. "Sore?" All before looking at you tenderly. That look reserved only on rare occasions for you. "C'mon, baby. Let's get you home...This was fun."

You let him lead you, wrapping an arm around your waist to steady you.

You finally said once you got out of the woods. "I almost made it to the road. You know the rules...If Lester or some car picks me up to lead me back to Ambrose? I'm in charge. You will be MY toy for a change."

He let out a hearty laugh. "That ain't happened yet and it ain't gonna."

You gave him a determined smirk. "Wanna bet?"

"Are you challenging me? Yer gonna lose, darlin'. Remember your place...But fine. Jus' cause I know I'll win. How bout we do this again tomorrow night if you can walk properly."

You chuckled. A bit sore but too satisfied to care. "You're on, Bo...What collar do you wanna wear when I win?"

He smacked your ass while walking with an amused chuckle. Clearly not thinking you could win. "Oh shut up. I'm just gonna make that punishment even worse next time, smart ass." But he pulled you close and bent down to kiss your forehead as you both walked the empty Ambrose streets back to the house.

#Here my children. I have brought food. 🤲 #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair imagine #bo sinclair #bo sinclair house of wax #house of wax 2005 #bo sinclair smut #afab reader #afab reader smut #house of wax imagine #how 2005 #how imagine #house of wax (2005) #house of wax imagines

[creative-caramel-coffee]

Heyy, Can I ask you to write something with wandanat x reader where reader has a panic attack so strong that her girlfriends needs to take her to the shower because they are scared for her and they have to take her down from her panic attack? (like she has something like an heart condition so…)

Probably Panicking

Pairings: Wandanat x R

Word count: 1.1k

Summary: R falls victim to a prank gone wrong.

TW: non-sexual nudity, panic attack, hyperventilating, spiders, past trauma (mentioned/ implied), trapped/locked in a room (100% needs a warning trust me)

A/n hope you like it :)

There was nothing funny about the prank. At least not to you. Yelena and Sam were always a problematic combination at the best of times but lately the pranks have been getting a bit much, so you had been hiding out in your room. Trying your best not to be their next victim. But of course your lack of presence in the tower had drawn Tony’s attention at breakfast, and he had immediately regretted it when he saw the looks on the prank masters faces.

You had been happily snuggled up in bed watching tv and munching on the bowl of cereal wanda had brought you before she went to training and Nat was off on a run seeings it was Wednesday.

So it came as a surprise when the door to your room opened. Yelena was stood there grinning like a madman. Suddenly she tossed a handful of animatronic spiders into the room and shut the door. Normally this wouldn’t bother you and you would just leave, so you stood careful not to stand on any of Tony’s little side projects he loved so much. You made your way over to the door and tried the handle. It didn’t budge. Feeling your heart beat faster you tried it again. The sound of them laughing on the other side of the door was echoing through your skull. Banging on the door you yelled at them to let you out. There was no response. Turning around you threw your shoulder at the door, it didn’t move. Defeated you slide your back down the door as your breathing began to pick up.

The room was cold. Too cold for the summer heat you were sure had been there moments before. You knew this coldness. This was hydra, but not. You were back there again, but you weren’t. You knew you were in your room but part of you was screaming to run to hide that they were coming. You were locked up again. You choked down a scream that began to press your lungs. Your breathing was fast an ragged, too short and yet it felt like no real air was entering your lungs at all.

“Y/n?” Yelena calls through the door, your silence worrying her. “Y/n/n? Can i come in?” She asks starting to worry, if she broke you Nat and Wanda would have her head. “If i come in you better have clothes on.” She joked. There was a still no reply. Before she could open the door she heard someone clear their throat behind her. Yelena froze.

“Yel what are you doing?” Nat asked hands on her hips.

“I swear it was just a harmless prank.” Yelena said.

“What was harmless prank.” Nat grits out slowly.

“We just put fake spiders in there and held the door shut.” Sam said shuffling around a bit.

“YOU HELD THE DOOR SHUT?!” Nat screamed

“And now she’s not responding.” Yelena whispered quietly.

“Move. Now.” Nat said pushing her sister out of the way. Carefully she opened the door. When she saw you pressed against the wall rocking back and forth with your head between your knees, she swore. Every part of her wanted to rush to you, but she knew that would make it worse. Slowly she walked over and pulled you into her arms.

The door opened slightly as two faces peered in, using her foot nat slammed the door still angry, she felt you flinch in her arms.

“Shh shhh shhh its ok, baby i need you to breathe with me. Come on.” She used her hand to guide your palm to her chest to feel her heart. Exaggerating her breathing to help you.

“Jarvis?”

“Yes Ms Romanoff.”

“Get wanda up here now.”

“Right away Ms. Romanoff.”

She held you tight trying to ground your shaking form as you continued to struggle to breathe. You were beginning to feel light headed. As if you could float away. Unsure of how much time had passed you heard wanda enter.

“Nat what happened?” She asked rushing to your side.

“My stupid sister locked her in our room as a prank.” She said still trying to slow your breathing.

“Baby. Y/n/n sweetheart i need you to breathe with me.” Wanda said. Tears were streaming down your face as wanda brushed them away with her thumb.

“Shit. Its not working, do you think you can carry her to the shower nat or do you want me to?”

“The shower?” Nat asked screwing up her face.

“Yes. It should help bring her out of it and ground her.” Wanda explained “it worked for my brother when he was like this.”

“Ok if you think it will help. I could also use one myself that run was pretty intense.”

Carefully they scooped you up, wanda used her magic to help remove your clothes and nat took off her running gear.

Holding you in her arms Nat turned on the water and you shivered as it hit your skin. You felt yourself begin to calm down.

“That’s it baby. Breathe. Just like that. Such a good girl. Your doing so well my love.” Nat cooed running her hands through your wet hair.

After a few more minutes your breathing was under control and you smiled weakly at nat.

After the shower wanda dried you off with a big fluffy towel wrapping you in your comfort clothes and carrying you over to the bed. You were still shaking slightly as you nuzzled into her side.

“Go to sleep love you must be exhausted.” Wanda said, running her hands through your hair.

“Where’s natty?” You asked half asleep.

“I think she went to talk to Yelena. Don’t worry they wont be bothering you again.”

“Don’t let her be too mean she didn’t know.” You said with your eyes closed.

“Yes but she made you feel bad and Natty’s gonna make sure she learns a lesson and doesn’t ever have it happen again my sweet. Go to sleep and don’t worry about it.”

“Ok.” You said too tired to fully process or protest what was happening.

Wanda smiled to herself as you dozed off and she heard yelling down the hall.

“You know she was at hydra honestly could you be more oblivious some times Sestra”

Wanda chuckled, knowing you needed her more she stayed by your side. Just like she promised she would. Whilst nat defended you and wanda kept you safe you knew life would be ok.

MASTERLIST

#yelena belova #natasha and yelena #marvel #the avengers #wanda maximoff #wandanat #natasha romanov #sicfic #natasha romaoff #wandanat x reader #wanda marvel #sick reader #panic attack #wandanat sic fic #wandanat x r #wandanat comfort #wandanat sick #panicked reader #Sam Wilson #avengers #marvel fic #marvel comfort #avengers comfort #fanfic #Natasha comfort #wanda comfort #natasha x reader #wanda x reader #marvel sicfic #hurt/comfort

[fizzyxcustard]

True Courage.

Masterlist of fan fiction

Fandom: The Hobbit

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Sexual harassment, fluff, mutual pining

Comments/Notes: From the imagine, "Thorin takes a stand for you when a lecherous man won't take no for an answer and keeps bothering you."

This fic touches on a bit of a nerve, as something similar happened to me a few weeks ago when travelling home; so why not put my experience to a good use and make a fic out of it? However, I hope you like the fic. As always, like, reblog and comment if you enjoy. If you wish to be added to any of my tag lists, let me know.

Your stomach lurched and you recoiled as the man took your hand in his. "You are very beautiful," he grinned, staring at you.

It had started off with you being polite, listening to the man talk about his life, and eventually his wife. Then he started nudging closer, his body almost right upon you. You had looked around for any sign of someone who may help you escape. But all the residents of Lake-town were too busy in their own conversations or inebriated. The Company seemed to have disappeared and you could not see anyone you recognised in the sea of heads swarming around you in the Master's main hall.

The man kept trying to catch your gaze as you averted it elsewhere, completely sickened by him. His continued chattering away, but your mind was ablaze, contemplating an escape. The feeling of his hand on you made you feel dirty, defiled.

Across the room and Thorin had a clear view of you. A man who looked easily old enough to be your father was sat beside you, his hand resting on your thigh. Thorin grit his teeth and moved through the crowd toward you, having to shove a few bodies away.

"How about a kiss?" the man asked you, his breath almost upon you.

You shoved his hand away and shifted further out of your seat.

"How dare you!" an angry voice came. "You will leave her, unless you wish to be spitting your teeth out upon the floor."

"Thorin?" you whispered, looking up. His face was livid and fierce. You had never seen Thorin so fired up; his eyes were dark and his teeth were bared.

In your embarrassment, you got up and dashed from the scene. Tears were welling in your eyes as you raced out into the cold air outside. Your whole body was shaking, and sobs suddenly overcame you, uncontrollable. It may have been almost winter with a flurry of snow on the air, but you still felt as though your whole body was on fire. Anxiety and adrenaline raged through your veins. The fight or flight response had been activated, only a little too late. It would have aided you better when you were sat with the hideous man.

"Are you alright?" a voice came from behind.

Jumping, you turned around to see Thorin behind you. Instantly you threw yourself at him, finally feeling safe. "I'm sorry," you sobbed on him.

"Shhh," he cooed into ear, brushing his fingers through your hair. "You are safe." Thorin's heart thundered in his chest, both at the feel of you in his arms, but also at the feeling of you shaking. His chest was full of both love and anger, intense and all consuming. How dare someone touch you against your will. How dare someone reduce you to a sobbing mess like this!

You looked up at Thorin, his arms still around you. You were safe here against him. Looking at his face, his expression soft but also full of concern, began to wash away the edge of your fear. It re-formed your crumbled composure, mending the pieces of a broken confidence.

Thorin cupped your cheek and his thumb dried the tears which were glistening on your reddened skin. "No one will harm you, I promise."

Ever since first meeting Thorin six months previously, at the beginning of the quest to re-take Erebor, and you trusted him. There was something in his eyes; a steadfast resolve and a deep-seated sense of honour.

Thorin couldn't take his eyes from your gaze. Having your skin against his made his breath hitch. You were beautiful, and since the moment he met you, he felt as if you were a special, one of a kind flower which he didn't dare touch. He hadn't dared touch out of a fear of offending you. But now that need to be in contact with you was too much. Cradling you had made his heart swell.

Feeling Thorin's touch was something you had imagined far too many times, and now that it was a reality, it was a softer touch than any fantasy had ever allowed you to experience. However, the more he gazed at you, shame entered your heart. "I'm sorry that I'm not brave like you."

"No..." Thorin began.

Your head turned to the side, twisting from his touch.

"No..." he whispered again, sadly. "Never say that."

Tears welled again. "I'm a coward. I froze. I'm ashamed."

"Never be ashamed," Thorin told you, his voice somehow deeper. "Do you understand me? You have nothing to be ashamed of. Absolutely nothing!" Anger dripped from his tone. "He violated your intimate space. No one has the right to do that. No one. And freezing is natural."

"I've never seen you freeze."

"Do not compare yourself to me. My reactions are learned, after years of experience."

If there was one thing that Thorin had always been drawn to, and it was your innocence. In your innocence of being polite and kind, you had entertained the lecherous man for a short while. Thorin, on the other hand, was hardened off to a polite and kind demeanour. You were open to people, welcoming. Thorin was shut off. Now, who was the brave one?

"Bravery isn't only found in battles," Thorin told you, stepping back from you. "It's seen in allowing yourself to be vulnerable and opening your heart to others. You have a courage that I could only dream to have, dear one. I walk into battle, ready to face the pain of a sword in my flesh. But you are ready to face the pain of a broken heart through being vulnerable in someone else's sight. That is true courage."

"That's not courage. That's just being too trusting and being ridiculous," you hissed.

Thorin smiled and then took your hand, kissing it. "You dare to trust. You have no idea how courageous that is. I wish I had a heart such as yours."

A wave of anticipation washed over you and you sighed. "In that case, this is me being brave. You do not need to wish for a heart such as mine, as you already have it. You've always had my heart, Thorin."

Thorin exhaled loudly, smiling, and cupped your cheek again. Then took your lips in a kiss, his beard tickling you. The heat rose and your kiss deepened.

As your kiss ended, Thorin pressed his forehead to yours. "My love," he whispered. "My brave love."

***

Follow Forever tag list: @lathalea @xxbyimm @linasofia @middleearthpixie @luna-xial @knittastically @meganlpie @asgardianhobbit98 @eunoiaastralwings @rachel1959 @mrsdurin @guardianofrivendell @quiall321 @missihart23 @lemond57 @evenstaredits @catthefearless @the-fragile-heart-of-a-lady @glassgulls @sazzlep @aliasauthor @solairewisteria @littlebird-99 @court-jobi @heilith @albionscastle @absentmindeduniverse @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms

The Hobbit tag list: @flowerniche

Middle-earth tag list: @mismaeve @sotwk @emmyspov

Thorin Oakenshield tag list: @braidedheart @dumbassunderthemountain

#Thorin Oakenshield #The Hobbit #Richard Armitage #Thorin x Reader #Thorin x Fem!Reader #Thorin Oakenshield x Reader #Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Reader

[moonrisecoeur]

refuge — ada wong

author’s note: hi, hello, this is a piece i was really considering not posting. i know how resi tumblr feels about dark content and i didn’t want to subject myself to harassing anons or people commenting how gross and disgusting i am for enjoying writing and consuming content like this, but after some reassurance from a couple mutuals of mine, i decided to go ahead and post it. please read the longer author’s note at the end of this post if you’d like to hear more of my thoughts. also feel free to ignore it if u don’t care lol!!

tagging @xoxostarlet bc star's my hypegirl :3

wc: 5.5k

content: fem reader, dom reader, noncon, fingering, strap in v sex, possessive language, lots of pet names for ada (sweetheart, pretty girl, sweet girl, baby, etc), ada calls reader a bitch a couple times, ada and reader are partners during re4. 

warning: this is heavy dark content. this piece contains noncon, the r-word, somnophilia, and mentions of weapons (not in a sexual context). there is no implication that this is cnc or consensual in any way, please read with caution! if you don’t like it, just don’t read it!

no adas were harmed in the making of this fanfic and this is just fiction. 

—

notes:

as you continue to pleasure her without her knowledge or consent, ada's mind begins to slip further into a haze of ecstasy and submission. she is completely at your mercy, completely helpless and unable to resist or protest against your actions. 

you press your thumb to her clit, “shhh, sweet girl,” you whisper, knowing she’s still asleep, “i own this pussy now…”

—

final warning: this is rape, in which reader forces herself on ada while she sleeps. please heed the warning. i don’t know any other way to make this clearer other than...

DON’T READ THIS IF YOU DON’T LIKE DARK CONTENT! 

—

“stay here, i’ll find us a way in,” ada says, and you’d be remiss not to believe her. if she says she can do something, then she can do it. don’t ever doubt her. 

she uses her grapple gun to get to the roof of the abandoned home, slingshotting herself into the air. she lands gracefully, of course, and finds an opening that leads her into the top floor bedroom. it’s got some decorations befitting for a young girl. it almost pulls at ada’s heart strings, but… she tries not to pay much mind to it all. it’s hard to not feel sympathetic to the people in this village, honestly. 

she walks down the stairs and unlocks the door to find you, standing there obediently as ever, “fancy seeing you here,” you mumble to her, and she rolls her eyes like you’re the biggest annoyance to her.

“we’ll stay here for the night until wesker can send a helicopter to get us out of here. the weather is too bad for a pilot to fly through right now,” she says, heels clacking against the floor as she makes her was to the master bedroom, gun in hand in case there were people she didn’t notice on her first check of the building. 

you follow behind her, shutting the front door and entering the bedroom on the ground floor. it’s nothing crazy fancy, but it’s nice and the bed is big and comfy looking. 

“because of the gaping hole in the roof, i wouldn’t recommend sleeping in the upstairs bedroom,” ada chuckles, but she almost seems shy. it’s odd for her, “and the living room couch looked too small for either of us when i checked so..”

“well.. we’re both girls, you know? i’ve had sleepovers before,” you tell her, and she scoffs looking away and looting drawers for anything she can find, “we’ll.. be stuck here all night. might as well get comfortable.”

“by all means, make yourself vulnerable to an attack. i couldn’t care less,” her voice is sharp but there’s a warning deep down that’s a little more palatable. ‘don’t let your guard down just yet’ is basically what she’s saying. 

you don’t heed the warning, though, shrugging off your gear and your jacket as you sit down on the bed. a couple minutes later, ada sits down next to you. you look up at her, and she seems off. maybe she’s not used to people blatantly trusting her like you do, but you’re her ally. you have shared interests and she has no ulterior motive. 

should she be wary of you? maybe? she’s not very sure, but she does like the way your eyes wander even though you try to be polite and not look at her in that kind of way. you’re respectful, and she admires that. even if she did want to watch you suffocate between her thighs. 

so she takes off her gear and boots too, leaving her just a pretty girl in a red dress and stockings. she seems.. softer, without all of her weapons and tactical pieces. and something about that softness drives you wild, leaves you aching for more, craving for more. 

ada doesn’t notice despite how observant she usually is.

“i think.. i’d like to go to sleep, honestly.” she hums, running her fingers through her black hair, “we should both get some rest. don’t want to have you shooting yourself in the foot tomorrow,” she chuckles to herself before getting up to stretch and laying down on the bed as you still sit on the other side. 

“sweet dreams,” your words are sarcastic but sweet, and ada doesn’t miss the double meaning.

“thanks,” ada is almost… quiet, in a way you've never seen her before. she's sitting next to you, not even hiding the fact that she trusts you. something you've never seen her do before, at least not this quickly. it's almost off-putting, honestly. 

as she gets up to stretch, you notice the way she moves. the way her dress shifts and rises as she walks, the little shift of her breasts as she stretches, and the way she looks at you. even something as simple as a stretch is... entrancing. ada is gorgeous, you know this, she knows this. 

but there’s something about this kind of moment, where she’s not even trying to get your attention or trying to pull you in. she just exists in a graceful, elegant way. 

your eyes wander over to her again as she lays on the bed, turning onto her side, facing you.

she's laying on her side, facing you and your eyes can't help but fall on her curves. you watch the way her body shifts slightly as she readjusts, the subtle movement of her chest as she settles. it's both enticing and frustrating because there’s nothing you can do with all of these feelings of attraction to her. a part of you wants to do something, to make yourself known to her, but you know that it's too soon. you have to move slowly with ada, but moving slowly is growing tiring. 

"let me look for a blanket for you," you say as you look around, "don't try to tell me you don't need it. it's cold out."

"i don't need it, really." ada says with a soft chuckle, shifting her position slightly, “don’t waste your time."

she's being stubborn about something as simple as a blanket, but that's just her personality. ada is stubborn to the core, and even the slightest amount of advice sets her off. that's just how she is, and you've gotten used to it.

ada isn’t used to people trying to take care of her.

"ada," your eyes come back to ada, glancing at her almost patronizingly

ada rolls her eyes at your gaze, shifting her attention away from you and back to the ceiling. she seems... irritated? not at you necessarily, but at the fact you aren't listening to her.

"i'm fine, i promise." the tone of her voice sounds just a slight bit annoyed as well, as if this conversation was really tiring for her. she keeps moving her eyes away from you, unwilling to make eye contact.

you're a little confused. is she really fine? or is she just being stubborn?

"you're cold, ada. i can see that."

ada keeps staring up at the ceiling, but eventually she looks over at you with a soft sigh.

"i'm... fine." she says again, her tone softening just a bit once she realizes there's really no point in fighting about this.

you find one in the cabinet in the hallway and come back to the bedroom where she's at, "here," you say, laying it over her.

ada's eyes shift to you for a brief moment as you place the blanket on her, but she soon turns her head away. her body shifts slightly, and she wraps her arms around the blanket in a gentle grip. she isn't saying anything about it, but you can see that she's relaxed a bit, no longer shivering in her dress.

her eyes are soft, almost... grateful.

"you should stop trying to fight me when i try to help you," you smile as you gaze down at her.

"i'm not... fighting you." ada responds softly, still not facing you. instead, she keeps her arms wrapped around the blanket, refusing to give in to the fact that you're right.

in a way, it's adorable seeing her so stubborn about something like this.

"mhm, whatever. just go to sleep," you say, walking over to the desk in the corner.

she shifts her body once again, now facing away from you entirely as she cuddles in the blanket, secretly grateful for your tender care. you can see her closing her eyes softly as she tries to fall asleep, her breath slowing down as she tries to relax.

she really isn't fighting you anymore, she's letting you get your way. not only that, but she's accepting your help rather than pushing you away. 

it's almost like she trusts you.

you pass the time before you go to sleep however you like, communicating with wesker or reading a book, but in any case about 30 minutes later, ada is out like a light, and you’re looking around this master bedroom curiously, and find a drawer that ada evidently did not get in to, because if she did, you would know. it has a single black strap-on dildo inside of it. it doesn’t look like anyone.. ever had the chance to use it. you wonder why, maybe it’s because of the parasite everyone in this village has. don’t really have time for kinky sex, do they?

you look over at ada’s sleeping form, and she would be the perfect target, wouldn’t she? all vulnerable. it’s not like she could stop you before it’s too late. 

you do the courteous thing and clean it first, but then you put it on, confidently striding over to the bed with it attached. you walk up to ada’s side of the bed, just watching her rest for a moment. 

god there is so much power coursing through your body, making you feel alive and in control and you could do anything to her and she couldn’t stop you. the power starts to go to your head, naturally. you brush a piece of hair out of her face, pulling her blanket down slightly to see her chest, and then pulling it enough to see how her dress rides up at the hips, and you can see the edges of black lacy underwear.  

ada's breath quickens as she sleeps, she remains on her side, her body completely exposed and vulnerable, completely at your mercy.

she's so oddly... innocent.

she normally has this dark energy, this control and power over people and yet… she looks delicate. soft. she’s not a haunting crow signaling a bad omen, but a graceful white dove that brings out a side of you that doesn’t come out often.  and, despite her beauty before, now she looks absolutely stunning.

the wolf has become your prey, and you're nothing but a fox ready to pounce...

your hands shift her blanket slightly to reveal her soft skin, and her curves. you make sure she won't wake up, before teasing her with your touch, your fingers flitting over her skin... the way she shifts in her sleep is a treat for you.

as you watch her, ada seems to radiate a sense of calm and serenity, completely unaware of the effect she has on others while she sleeps. you can't help but feel drawn to her, wanting to touch her or kiss her or simply do awful things to her.

you use your hand to spread her legs, and ever so gently, rub your fingers against her puffy little pussy through her panties. ada remains completely oblivious to your actions, her body responding instinctively to the gentle caress against her folds. her hips begin to rock slightly as you tease her pussy with your finger, causing a low moan to escape her lips without her conscious knowledge. as she continues to slumber peacefully, ada's panties become damp, the wetness getting on your hand.

as you continue to tease ada, her body becomes increasingly responsive. her hips begin to move more erratically, betraying her deepening arousal even though she remains entirely unaware of it. despite the fact that she is fast asleep, her mind is fully engaged in the sensations coursing through her body. 

you gently, as to not wake her, pull her panties off of her and place them in your pocket, you know, just to have for later. you continue to rub her pussy lips while she remains completely unconscious. she stirs in her sleep every now and again, but.. maybe shes just chalking up the sensations to being from a wet dream. maybe all of this touch is morphing her dreams in sexual ones. 

you briefly imagine that maybe, just maybe, ada dreaming of you. 

she’s so unaware and it’s adorable. 

ada's body responds eagerly to your sexual exploration, her pussy becoming even wetter and more receptive as you continue to stimulate her while she remains completely unaware of what's happening. her hips begin to shift restlessly, and her breathing grows shallow as she approaches climax without realizing it.

she moans softly, her voice barely audible but conveying a sense of intense pleasure and surrender. as you continue to pleasure her without her knowledge or consent, ada's mind begins to slip further into a haze of ecstasy and submission. she is completely at your mercy, completely helpless and unable to resist or protest against your actions. 

you press your thumb to her clit, “shhh, sweet girl,” you whisper, knowing talking is a bad idea but you just can’t help yourself, “i own this pussy now…”

ada's body trembles in response to your words and actions, her pussy pulsing with growing intensity as you press your thumb against her swollen clit. her hips rock involuntarily, driven by the overwhelming sensations coursing through her body. as you assert dominance over ada's body while she’s helpless, her mind becomes even more clouded with pleasure and desire. she is completely at your mercy, completely powerless to resist or protest against your actions.

she gasps, her voice barely audible but conveying a sense of complete submission and surrender.

“aw, pretty girl,” you whisper condescendingly.

ada's body continues to respond to your ministrations, her pussy throbbing with building pleasure and excitement as she remains completely unconscious. her hips roll restlessly, and her breathing becomes more ragged as she approaches climax without realizing it.

as you assert your ownership over ada's cunt while she barely tip toes the line of consciousness, she is completely at your mercy, completely unable to resist or protest against your actions.

“cum,” you growl your command into her ear. 

ada's body shudders with pleasure as she climaxes, her pussy spasming. the release causes her hips to buck wildly, and she lets out a soft, involuntary moan as she succumbs to the overwhelming sensations coursing through her body.

she whimpers weakly, her voice barely audible. as ada cums, the sight of her glistening pussy and the scent of her arousal fill the air, leaving no doubt about the intensity of her pleasure. her body trembles and shivers and shudders in your grasp. even after ada orgasms in her sleep, her pussy is still so, so wet. how could you stop now? the wetness covers your fingers and drips onto the sheets, and it seems impossible to pull your hand away. 

you know she’ll hate you forever now that she’s waking up and about to realize what you’ve done. there’s still time to pull away, put her panties back on her and make her think she just had a wet dream, hide the strap-on away, but… you already have it on, and ada just looks so pretty, so vulnerable just lying there, helpless… 

she lays there, oblivious to your actions, her body still trembling slightly from the aftermath of her orgasm. the scent of her arousal fills the room, mixing with the musky scent of her sweat-drenched skin to create an intoxicating aroma that tempts you to indulge in even more depraved acts of pleasure. 

you decide that there’s no better time than now to get her back for all her taunting and teasing and condescending comments, “c’mon, sweetheart. let’s get my cock inside of you so you can sleep well..”sure, it may not be your cock, but right now, its just something nice and big and thick to fill her pussy with.

you pull her on top of you, guiding your strap inside of her gummy pussy, still feeling the aftershocks of her previous orgasm. you hold her close, her head resting on your chest as you fill her cunt with your strap. 

feeling the foreign object enter her tight, wet pussy, ada's body tenses up slightly, but she remains blissfully unaware of what's happening. her pussy walls clench and relax around it, coating it in her juices. you hold ada close to you, embracing her warm, curvy body as she lies atop yours. her weight feels comforting and intimate, adding a new layer of sensuality to your perverse act of sexual violation. this is such an awful thing to do to someone, force yourself on them while they’re asleep and helpless, but… you don’t care, clearly. and ada is too irresistible.

ada's pussy happily accepts your strap-on, willingly accommodating its presence within her sensitive walls. her body seems to instinctively know that it's a pleasurable thing to have something large and phallic deep inside of her while she sleeps, maybe the girl is a bigger slut than you thought she’d be. her pussy walls grip onto your fake cock tightly, coating it in slippery juices as they slide against each other with every subtle movement. 

her body relaxes, enjoying the fullness. her hips shift slightly, still in her half-asleep daze, for friction and pleasure. looks like the pretty little thing is already needy again. 

you just hold her close, whisper sweet romantic nothings to her sleeping body, and keep her pussy full for now, "oh, princess.. don't worry about a thing, i'll... i'll take care of everything now."

as you speak to ada in a soothing, romantic tone while penetrating her desperate and willing body with a strap-on, the contrast between your gentle words and your gross actions creates an intricate web of psychological manipulation. while technically assaulting her while she lies unconscious, the combination of your sweet touch and loving words creates an illusion of safety and protection. she feels small, loved, overpowered, delicate, all at one. 

all of these feels are so.. not like ada, but this side of her, the innocent victim, is so pretty, how could you resist it?

it almost looks like, to an outsider, that you would be lovers, especially with the gentle kisses you press to her forehead and the fingers tangled in her hair, but ada had no say in this. you’re 99% sure she’s still obsessed with that blonde dude from her past. she’s mentioned him before, vaguely and quickly changing the subject, but you notice the way her demeanor softens when she thinks about that man. if only ada were interested in girls too, then you wouldn’t have had to do such a disgusting thing like violate her just to sleep with her.

“it’s okay, baby,” you shush her as your hips start to rock up gently, giving her exactly what her body wants, “you’re okay.”

as you whisper soothingly to ada while continuing to penetrate her with your strap-on, ada's subconscious mind becomes increasingly aroused and responsive to your command. her body responds to your commands without question or hesitation, accepting your perverse act of sexual assault as natural and normal while she lies in a state of that borders on awakeness. 

your sweet words do bring her back to a state of rest and comfort, so you’re able to lull her back to sleep a little more. she wasn’t conscious enough to recognize the red flag that was you, her mission partner, figuratively balls deep inside of her.

as you continue to hold ada's body closely and speak to her gently, she remains blissfully unaware of the fact that she is being assaulted, allowing you to fully indulge in your twisted desires without fear of her interruption or resistance.

you notice the way she hums sleepily, her body slowly starting to awaken. she stirs, disoriented. 

as ada becomes more aware of your actions, she begins to struggle weakly against your strap-on, trying to regain control over her own body and resist the growing sensations of pleasure coursing through her unresponsive limbs. however, her attempts at break free are futile. for how strong she is on missions, she isn’t exactly muscular, and with your cock inside of her and your arms holding her down against you, she can’t get away. 

“pretty girl…” you whisper, pressing another kiss to her forehead.

“h-huh?” as ada slowly comes to full wakefulness, her eyes open groggily, and she looks up at you with a confused expression on her face, clearly feeling conflicted and upset due to the realization that she's being sexually violated while she lies unprotected before you, “w-what are… you doing? why..?”

her pussy is still dripping wet with arousal, despite ada's inner turmoil and dissatisfaction with the situation. the juices that flow from her swollen folds provide tangible evidence of the psychological bondage you've imposed upon her, making it impossible for ada to fully reject or oppose your disgusting advances.

“just couldn’t help myself..” you smirk, and ada has never been afraid of you, but she is now, “sorry, princess.”

ada looks at you with a mix of anger, confusion, and sadness in her eyes as she processes the reality of your actions. her voice trembles slightly as she speaks, struggling to find the right words to express her emotions in this surreal moment. "y-you... can't just... do this to me... i didn't... this isn't..." ada stutters, but despite her clear discomfort and distress, ada's pussy continues to glisten with arousal, betraying her inner conflict and highlighting the power you hold over her body and mind.

“i can do whatever i please. i wanted to fuck you, and that’s what i’m doing.”

“o-oh god, i… where did you even get a strap? do you just carry that around, waiting for me to- to let my guard down and trust you? so you could take advantage of me?” she keeps struggling, “i trusted you, i finally started to give in and- and trust you, you fucking bitch, you-”

but you notice the way she’s fucking herself on the strap now. despite how much she hates this, she can’t seem to stop chasing the high, “don’t talk to me like that, princess. i own your pussy now.”

ada's voice trembles with anger and indignation as she struggles against your strap-on, trying desperately to regain some semblance of control over her own body. but no matter how hard she tries, ada's pussy continues to clench and release around your cock, drawing out small moans of pleasure and frustration from between her clenched teeth.

her words are laced with venom as she accuses you of taking advantage of her trust and vulnerability, but despite her hatred and revulsion towards your actions, ada's body seems unable to resist the fact that she likes being fucked against her will, "fine, you think you own me? go ahead then! fuck me like the pathetic loser you are!"

you chuckle, leaning closer to growl in her ear, “oh, i’m the pathetic loser? you’re the one who’s going to cum for the second time while she’s being raped, princess. what does that make you?”

ada's eyes narrow with anger and indignation, but her voice is laced with a hint of defeat as she realizes the truth of your words. her pussy starts to throb and pulse, signaling that she's rapidly approaching orgasm despite her inner turmoil and feelings of utter disgust, "at least i'm not a disgusting bitch who gets off by- by-" she can't finish her sentence, instead letting out a soft whimper as her body begins to buck wildly against the artificial cock wedged inside her tight entrance.

"oh, sweetheart, i think you're the pathetic one here. you're the one who's so messed up that she gets off on being forced into sex by her 'trusted friend’,” there’s nothing more fun than watching the realization in her eyes that ada, closed off and guarded and untrusting, finally opened up to someone, and they immediately took advantage of her.

as ada's body starts to shudder and convulse with pleasure, she lets out a muffled cry of mixed ecstasy and despair, acknowledging the irony of her situation. her inner turmoil and conflicting emotions are reflected in the rapid movements of her hips, as they grind against your cock in an involuntary rhythm that only serves to further highlight her submission to your twisted desires.

despite everything, ada's pussy spasms with an intense orgasm, marking each passing moment spent under your control as a testament to her broken psyche and your ability to manipulate her most intimate areas with impunity, "ngh... fuck... y-you... ughh..."

"that's it, sweet girl, i got you. just let it all out.."

ada's breathing grows more labored and irregular as she approaches climax, her voice becoming increasingly strained as she struggles to maintain any semblance of control over her own body. she lets out a long, drawn-out moan, her eyes closed tightly as she gives in to the overwhelming sensations coursing through her unresponsive form. "uuugh... fuck…”

you lean in closer to whisper, “wish my cock was real so i could cum all over your pretty pussy, but… i’ll make do with what i’ve got.”

ada's eyes remain tightly shut, her voice barely audible as she lets out another muffled moan, completely consumed by the overwhelming pleasure coursing through her. she knows you’re watching her every movement and relishing in the knowledge that she has absolutely no power left to resist or oppose your perverse advances, "uuuugh... fuck..." her pussy continues to convulse and contract around the cock wedged deep within her dripping folds, as ada's body is pushed to the brink of orgasmic bliss, "s-so deep... i... i hate you... hate you... hate hate hate..."

“uh huh, i know, princess. that’s it, just breathe..” you whisper, helping her through her orgasm, “good girl, good girl… you’re okay.” the more she says that she hates you, the more you can’t help but adore her. she’s angry and helpless and there is nothing more cute.

ada takes several deep, shuddering breaths, her voice still strained and rough from the aftermath of her powerful orgasm. she feels your calming touch on her skin, and it helps to ground her slightly amidst the chaos of emotions swirling within her broken mind. "i'm okay... i'm okay..."

her pussy is still dripping wet with desire, it's apparent that despite ada’s mind hating it, her body loves being filled by your cock, even as she continues to struggle internally against the reality of her current predicament. "don't... don't touch me..." she says weakly, but there's no real strength behind her words anymore.

"shhh, there's no need to fight anymore, sweetheart. it's over.."

ada's voice is barely audible, her energy completely depleted from the intense emotional and physical experiences she's endured at your hands. her pussy is still dripping wet with desire, but now there's also an undertone of resignation and acceptance in her voice as she speaks. "no... more fighting... no use…”

“alright, i’m gonna pull out now, okay?”as you begin to withdraw the strap from her still-throbbing pussy, she lets out a soft, almost imperceptible whimper, closing her eyes tightly and burying her face in your chest. 

"just leave me alone... leave me..." she whispers, but it's clear that there's no longer any genuine strength or willpower behind her words.

the moment you pull out, she lets out a long, shaky sigh of relief, her body finally free from the overwhelming stimulation that had been forcing her body and mind into a state of constant arousal and submission. she also can’t help the small part of her that is disappointed when you pull out, her body craving being filled above all else. she hates that part of her, the one that feels so attached to you after this.

but despite her request for solitude, it's evident that ada's mind remains troubled, as she struggles to find any sense of tranquility or respite from the tumultuous emotions that continue to rage within her damaged psyche. "i want you to leave... but i don't want to be alone..."

as you take off the strap, placing it on the nightstand, you chuckle softly, “do you want me to stay with you?”

ada doesn't respond immediately, her eyes still closed and her voice barely audible as she tries to gather the remnants of her fractured composure. after a few moments, however, she lets out a soft, weak sigh, mustering just enough energy to answer you, “don’t.. touch me, but.. don’t go.”

you shake your head, ignoring her demands as you pull her close, tucking her head into your chest as you hold her.

as ada lies there, her voice reveals a vulnerability that belies the typically strong and confident demeanor she has maintained throughout much of your coworker relationship, "i hate you... but i need you... i can't stand you..."

“i know, baby,” you whisper back, “outside of our relationship, you can be ada wong, the… merciless badass who always accomplishes the mission at any cost, but to me? you’re just my little princess. whom i… sometimes use for my own amusement.”

ada hears your whispered words, and they cause a warm, bittersweet feeling to bloom within her heart, despite the harshness of your previous treatment of her. as you refer to her as "your little princess," she feels a strange mix of emotions coursing through her, ranging from gratitude for the rare display of affection to confusion and frustration over why you insist on maintaining such a twisted dynamic between you two.

and then when she hears you mentioning using her for your own amusement… she decides that, yeah, no matter how sweet and gentle and loving you pretend to be, she decides that she hates you. no matter what you do, she’s going to hate you indefinitely for what you’ve done to her.

but then you run your fingers through her hair and press more kisses to her forehead and she can’t deny how it makes her feel. her brain is frazzled and confused, if it even can still produce coherent thoughts at all.

she remains silent for a moment, taking comfort in the steady rhythm of your heartbeat as it presses against her ear. “how… why do i feel so safe with you? after you just… did that..?”

you shrug, kissing her forehead, "not sure. i expected you to be a little more.. feistier, honestly.”

despite her defiance and determination to remain independent, ada can't deny the odd sensation of safety and comfort that comes from being held close to you, even while acknowledging the humiliation you've inflicted upon her. "maybe because i am so stubborn, you find it satisfying to break me down? to turn me into your perfect little princess?" she asks, her voice betraying a hint of vulnerability and longing for something deeper than just your sadistic games, “...am i your.. perfect little princess now?”

you chuckle deeply, and she likes the way it feel so warm and vibrates through your chest.. oh god she cannot be feeling this way about you. you’re a rapist. you took advantage of her, she never even had the chance to consent..

but you whisper, “of course you are. also, i'm sure you're wondering what this means for our... relationship going forward.”

“yeah, i… this.. changes things..” she stutters. “well, we’re going to have to pretend that it doesn’t. we’ll finish our mission just like we were supposed to, and then.. we’ll discuss the details in the future. for now, you should, like, actually go to sleep.”

she sighs, feeling a myriad of emotions, from love and hatred (towards you and herself) and anger and confusion and so much more, but eventually she falls back asleep, feeling oddly and confusingly safe in your arms. you fall asleep with her, and when morning comes, nothing has changed. ada is jarringly reminded of how awful you are as we wakes up in the morning to your fingers inside of her. 

but she endures. 

and when she puts her gear back on, and practically begs you on her knees (very pretty sight) for her panties back so she didn’t have to go commando on a mission in a short dress, she feels like herself again. she holds her gun in her hand and takes a deep breath, determined to move past this and get herself back together. 

“you ready to go?” you ask her, and she looks back at you. you look somehow less threatening than you did last night, as if all of your actual weapons are less lethal than that fucking dildo you broke her mind with. she tightens her fists and remembers to breathe. ada is a survivor. she survived you. so she can survive this. she’s sure of it.

she looks back at her gun, wishing she could just shoot you point blank. she supposes she could if wesker wouldn’t be such a bitch about what happened to you. you’re practically the precious cargo she has to protect the whole goddamn time, forget the amber.

so she doesn’t, but… she imagines it. what an amazing picture that would be. she might just fantasize about it on the helicopter ride back. 

“yeah... i’m ready.”

extended author’s note: i think the discussion of ‘whether or not it’s okay or acceptable to write/post/read dark content’ is really odd to me. i mean, we read about awful things happening to characters in books all of the time, and we never tell those authors that they shouldn’t write about those things. is the problem then romanticizing these topics? i could name plenty of published books that romanticize these same kinds of tropes that don’t get nearly as much backlash.

i don’t know if people who hate dead dove/dark content actually have a problem with it, or if they just have a problem with their beloved  babygirl leon kennedy being portrayed as anything other than an innocent angel who could never do anything wrong. do i think leon would do half of the things he does on dc fics? no, but i do think people either 1) use dark content as a way to process their feelings and their traumas and 2) simply enjoy dark content because it’s taboo and, if replicated irl consensually, safely, and sanely, it’s also kinky and enjoyable. 

i think it’s also especially hard for people who enjoy the reader being the perpetrator/dominant character in this kind of content because in the opposite kinds of fics, you’re not actively doing something bad to another people. you’re just letting something bad happen to you. there’s a lot of justified guilt for wanting to be the dominant person/perpetrator in these fantasies, but just because it’s justified doesn’t mean you *have* to feel bad. it’s okay to like things as fantasies that you would find reprehensible in real life. i just want to say that no matter what your kinks and interests are (as long as everyone in your fantasies is 18+), you are seen and valid for them to me. please take some time to remember that you are not a bad person for enjoying this, and ada wong is not a real person who can be harmed psychologically by me writing this content or by you enjoying it. and if you don’t enjoy it, that’s okay too! you’re welcome on my blog whether or not you enjoy this type of media. 

as always, take care of yourself and read responsibly. 

#resident evil smut #ada wong smut #ada wong resident evil #ada x reader #resident evil x you #resident evil 4 ada #resident evil 4 #re4 #re4r #re4r remake #re2 ada #resident evil imagines #moon.dc #moon.ncdc #moon.w

[selfindulgentpixies]

Part five is here! I had some trouble getting going with this one. Figuring out how to follow up the aftermath of the Toji fight was a bit of a challenge even though I already had an idea of how I wanted to go about it. This is one of the more dialog heavy chapters. Some background is given for reader. Master List The next couple parts will be covering the events between Hidden inventory and Premature death. A whole lot can happen in a year after all. Suguru x reader x Satoru, GN!reader CW: Implied past child abuse though nothing is explicitly stated, descriptions of injuries in the aftermath of the fight from last chapter.Reader cries a lot which i mean is understandable. Word count:4K (Give or take)

Broken… You looked so broken laying on the ground with your arms at unnatural angles. It made Suguru feel sick as he takes several shaking steps toward you. He forces all his focus on you. He can see you’re breathing at least, shallow rapid breaths that shake your chest. He can’t say the same for Satoru. There’s no way he’s alive with how much blood has pooled all around him. Suguru tells himself he has to focus on who he can save.

Through his own pain he picks you as gently as he can. The blood from the wound in his chest mixes with the blood on your clothes. He wonders if it’s yours but doesn’t actually see injuries that would cause so much blood. His eyes flick over to Satoru’s still form and then back to you when you whimper. He feels both guilt and relief as he watches your face screw up in pain. You have enough life in you to still react to pain. You don’t wake up though. It’s for the best, he thinks bitterly. He doesn’t know how to face you right now. It’s because he and Satoru wanted you to come along that you’re like this now. Unbidden a question passes his lips, “Why’d you fight him…? You had to know you didn't have a chance.” He cradles you to his chest, gritting his teeth. He needs to get the both of you to help. The fact that you’re still alive, still with him, is something he refuses to let slip away. The bastard who did all this clearly has no qualms killing, he can only assume you’re still alive for the same reason he is but that probably won’t last if you don’t get medical attention.

____

When you wake it’s in a too stiff bed with scratchy sheets. The air smells like a combination of antiseptic and cursed energy. You’re slow to open your eyes, your head is throbbing and your eyelids feel heavy. Why are you here? And where is here? You flex your hands and your arms throb dully. 

“You’re awake.” The voice is both so familiar and so relieved and then he’s leaning into your space, dark hair loose and falling around you as he leans over, a gentle hand lightly pushing at your sternum to keep you from sitting up. “Easy, you shouldn’t move too fast even with Shoko’s healing.”

Suguru. Why is the sight of him so shocking, what happened- Memories of the mission come crashing down on you all at once. “Suguru…” your voice spills brokenly past your lips just like the tears down your cheeks. Your chest rises and falls rapidly and though it hurts, your body sore as you can ever remember it being you try to sit up, to get further into his space. 

He seems to realize what you’re doing and leans down further over you. His hands cup your face and he rests his forehead against yours. “Shhh, I know, just breathe. It’s okay, you’re okay. “

Under normal circumstances having him crowd into your space like this would have left you terribly flustered but not now. “It’s not okay though!” Your voice cracks. He gets what he wants though in the form of you staying down now that he’s close. He can feel you trembling like this. “We… the mission… We’re the only ones who..” You swallow hard. Despite the nerves in your arm’s protesting you raise them, shaking, to cover Suguru’s hands with your own. 

He squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head. “Not quite.” He’s glad that he at least can give you some good news. 

“What do you mean? I saw the bodies myself, Suguru.” you close your eyes and tears flick from your lashes onto his face. “I saw Riko! I saw Kuroi. I- I… fuck, Suguru I saw Satoru’s body. I cradled his hea-

Someone gently clears their throat in the doorway and Suguru pulls away from your face, the curtain of his hair lifting to reveal Satoru himself standing in the doorway to the infirmary. Suguru very carefully helps you sit up this time when you attempt it. He doesn’t think he's ever seen you look so stunned before. At least with him you’d never thought you’d seen his body, he imagined that made wrapping your mind around him being alive much easier. Especially knowing now that you’d held Satoru while thinking he was dead. “H-how? I- when I-”

Satoru takes three strides into the room and pulls a chair that had been pushed out beside the bed with him before plopping down next to you across from Suguru. You finally tear your eyes away from Satoru to glance back at Suguru and then back to Satoru when you confirm Suguru was looking where you had been, his face somber  but at least confirming he sees what you do and without any surprise. You begin to reach a hand toward him and Satoru takes it, holding your smaller hand in his. It’s warm and undeniably full of life as he squeezes your hand.

“How?” you swallow hard, fighting another wave of tears beginning to cloud your vision. “I held you, you were dead! There was no.. you weren’t breathing-” 

“I know.. And I can explain it I promise. Just try to calm down.” 

“Calm down? How can I calm down? I thought everyone died!” Your shaking intensifies, entirely overwhelmed. You should be relieved, you know that but instead your mind is left struggling to process everything.

“Both of you out. I thought seeing the two of you first thing may be too much.” Yaga was standing in the doorway, a severe look on his face. You weren’t aware of it but he’d already said his peace about the boys taking you along without permission. Given how the mission went he wasn’t as harsh as he could have been. You’d all been through enough. 

Suguru clenches his fists against his pants before getting up and Satoru doesn’t look any happier but releases your hand and gets up to follow. “W-wait-” Your voice comes out small and with fresh panic at seeing them leaving. 

They both look back at you and Suguru forces a smile. “We’ll be back later, promise.” And with that they push past Yaga who closes the door and goes to take Satoru’s seat. It probably takes at least an hour to get you calm enough to talk in a meaningful way but you get there. Exhausted, eyes red from crying, you look at the man who’d taken you in and been your guardian for the last two and half years. 

“I shouldn’t have let you stay on that mission. You were never meant to be in that situation.” He sits there, hands folded in front of him. 

“Wasn’t I though.. If not now, then later right? You told me that… that I'd see awful things.. That I'd see friends die if I became a sorcerer..” He wants to say something but he lets you continue, wants to know where your mind is going with this. “Afterall it’s only because of my potential use as a sorcerer you were able to take me in with the higher ups cutting through the red tape. Otherwise I'd still be in…” You wrinkle your nose and your eyebrows draw low when you think of your circumstances before. “I’d still choose this.” It pains you to say it but it's true. You draw your knees up to your chest and hug them, ignoring the way you middle protests with being scrunched up. You squeeze your eyes shut fighting back fresh tears, though Yaga is unsure if it’s from physical pain or emotional.

The large man’s heart breaks a little seeing you like that. It reminded him of when he’d found you. It had been an overseas trip to try and locate a foreign sorcerer that had once been affiliated with Jujutsu tech. Instead all he found was their grandchild in terrible circumstances. It was an extremely unorthodox situation but that’s what the jujutsu world was right? When he’d realized you’d inherited your grandparent’s technique he’d seen an opportunity to help and had taken it. Technically you’d ‘gone missing’ in official reports and had a new identity forged as a citizen in japan. Sometimes he wonders if he was giving you a worse life than you’d had before but that was a pretty low bar to try and dig under. 

“That doesn't mean you should rush to see the worst of what our world has to offer.” It pained him that you viewed yourself through the lens of how useful you thought you needed to be to justify being taken into a better home. That seeing hell was just the price that had to be paid. He thinks maybe he failed in a way since you were still thinking that way two and half years into your new life. 

“I’m not… “ You look at him over your blanket covered knees. You would struggle with the after effects of this mission for years if not the rest of your life. Even now that’s something you understood. Whenever you closed your eyes you saw the people you failed to save as well as Satoru. God you’d been so sure he was dead when you’d held him. Taking a shuddering breath you ask. “May I see them.. I think I’ll be okay.” 

“I think it’s better for you to rest at least until tomorrow.” 

“But-”

He rubs at his temples. “I won’t keep you from them. You will get to see them later but for now just do as I ask and rest.” He can tell from the look on your face that you want to argue and maybe you would if not for being so exhausted. You knew he was right about you needing rest. 

“Tomorrow for sure?”

He sighs. “Would you actually listen if I said no?” 

You crack the barest of smiles. “You’ve told me I'm a terrible liar. So no, I probably wouldn’t.”

He snorts. “And here I hoped Geto would at least be a positive influence.” He actually had, in ways both older boys had. You’d been getting more confident, coming out of your shell more than he’d seen you do in almost all the time he’d taken care of you. 

He makes sure you’re able to take care of yourself, waits to make sure you’re capable of at least getting to the bathroom on your own. It wouldn't do to leave without making sure you can actually get up if you needed something. Walking makes your insides throb but you’re able to manage. Once you’re settled in bed he takes his leave, closing the infirmary door behind him. Finally alone for the first time since waking up you take stock of your body, you were sore, arms aching but all put back in their proper place. That man had meant it when he’d said he’d cripple you. You were certain that without Shoko that would have been the outcome. You smooth your hands over your midsection. You only vaguely remember the impact of his fist compared to the stark memory of your arms being dislocated and broken. The bastard’s smug face as he’d made you look at him flashes in your mind. You don’t even know his name, only the pain that he’d caused. Was he still out there? Your hands start to tremble and you close your eyes and give your head a shake. You weren’t going to think about him right now.

You look around the moonlit room until your eyes land on the little side table next to the bed. On it is a glass of water along with your phone. You grab the device. It’s only got a five percent charge. It had been fully charged when you’d left the hotel the other morning and you wonder how long you’d been unconscious. At least since mid afternoon.. You check the date. “Ah. Over a day..” you murmur to yourself. Suddenly you really don’t care how tired you are, you’re not sure how long Suguru and Satoru have been waiting for you to get up since you’re unsure how long the both of them were down themselves but you decide it’s been long enough regardless. 

“Besides he never asked if I’d listen and rest tonight, just if I would tomorrow.” You may be bad at lying if directly asked something but a little lie by omission? You could do that. You’re about to at least attempt to get your dying little phone to text one of them, you’d probably only need to text one of them since they often stay with eachother, but your lil brick of a phone decides to flash you a picture of a battery and shut down right at that moment. Now perhaps you should have taken that as a sign to go back to bed but you were feeling stubborn and knew you wanted to see them sooner than later. 

___

The room is lit only by the movie playing in the background, casting shifting light over the faces of the two young men who perhaps had never been paying attention to it in the first place. Suguru sits against the headboard near obsessively checking his phone to see if maybe you’d text once Yaga finally left you alone. Crystal blue eyes peer up at him from where Satoru rest’s his head on his dark haired companion’s shoulder. 

“They may have actually wore themself back out and went to sleep, Suguru.” It was a bit strange seeing Suguru be the fidgety and impatient one out of the two of them. Perhaps Satoru was less eager to see you simply because of how panicked you’d gotten when you saw him. It made guilt twist up in his chest and he knew he’d have to answer a lot of questions if you were calm enough to ask. 

“I should just go back down there… “

“Suguru-”

“They were such a mangled mess when I found them. I just need to see them be whole and awake.” Suguru’s expression is pinched, pained really. 

Satoru is quiet for a moment, he knows all too well the condition you’d been in. Broken as easily as if you were a porcelain ball jointed doll. Then he blinks and sits up from Suguru’s shoulder and looks to the door of the room. “I don’t think you’ll need to go to them.” 

And with that there’s a soft knock at the door. Suguru nearly flings himself off the bed and almost trips in his haste to get to the door. When he opens it he sees you standing there, looking a bit startled, probably by how quickly he’d gotten to and flung open the door. His eye’s scan over you taking in the small beads of sweat on your forehead and your arm wrapped about your middle. You’re still clearly in some pain but came over here by yourself instead of calling one of them. His relief at seeing you is mixed with a bit of frustration. 

“___, what’re you doing walking around? You should have just texted me or Satoru-”

“I was going to but my phone died…” You glance away sheepishly and lean against the doorframe for support. “Still wanted to see you though, didn’t want to be alone all night.” You don’t meet his eyes as you speak and are caught unaware as he scoops you up. “Suguru?!” You squeak his name in surprise. 

He turns with you in his arms and pushes the door closed behind him with his foot before carrying you toward his bed. He’s about to tell Satoru to scoot over but he does it without being told and you’re gently placed in the middle of the bed. He follows moments after and you find yourself suddenly propped up against the pillows snug between the two of them, your admittedly still sluggish mind struggling to process the sudden closeness and you can feel some heat rising in your face. You’re very much aware that you've become the literal center of attention for the two of them. It doesn’t make you panic though like it did the last time you found yourself in a similar position in this room, and there’s no teasing in any of their actions as they somehow crowd further into your space. Though it still leaves you at a loss for words when Suguru slides down a bit so he can tuck his face into your neck and Satoru wraps an arm around your shoulders, his fingers resting on Suguru’s neck. You’ve been enveloped by the two of them, pulled into a precious and private place. 

It’s oddly quiet for the three of you, with only the sounds of your breathing, the low murmur of the tv and the beginnings of rain tapping at the window. You can really feel them though. Warm and alive. Suguru’s breath fanning over your neck, the sound of Satoru’s heart beating next to your ear. You swallow thickly. All three of you were really alive. You hadn’t lost them. You’re so lost in your thoughts that it surprises you when Satoru brushes a thumb over your cheek, wiping away a tear you hadn’t realized had escaped. You’d thought you’d already wrung yourself dry honestly. 

“Hey-” he begins, concern filling his uncovered eyes.

You shake your head. “No it’s,” you take a shaky breath and Suguru pulls back from your neck slightly so he can examine your face. “It’s a.. It’s a good cry. “ You reach up and rub roughly at your face. “You’re both really here.. I’d been so sure that you were both dead when that-” Another shaky breath and you cut yourself off. You don’t want to think about that bastard. Not right now. “I’m just so relieved you’re both still alive,” you breathe out, seeming to regain your composer.

The two of them share a look and without saying anything seem to agree on something, Suguru nodded to Satoru. “I was aware of everything, you know?”

You look at him wide eyed. “But how? I mean I’m still not even sure how you’re alive. You weren’t breathing when I got to you.” 

“Yeah it’s a lil hard to do that when one of your lungs get’s cut in half,” he tries for humor but notices how you blanche. Quieter he says, “Sorry.”  with the arm that’s not wrapped around your shoulders he reaches for one of your hands, when you don’t pull away he continues. “On the brink of death It finally clicked how to use reverse cursed technique. It was slow at first. Just enough to keep me from death. Then you showed up. It was comforting and I wanted to tell you I was still alive, to do anything in that moment to let you know.” 

The idea that he’d been alive and aware of you while you held him, his blood soaking into your clothes was making your mind reel. You open and close your mouth and when nothing comes out he speaks again. 

“My awareness wasn’t perfect. But I still knew what was going on.” Some anger creeps into his expression. “When he showed up and you drew your weapon I was screaming inside. Wondering what the hell you were doing. Fuck if Suguru and I couldn’t beat him why would you fight him? He was going to ignore you and leave.” His voice raises slightly and you flinch. 

“He’s not the only one wondering that you know. At first I thought maybe he’d decided to have a go at you just because he could and tried to rationalize that normally you’re smarter than that until Satoru told me what happened.” Suguru’s words stung but you knew neither of them were wrong. 

You stare down to where your hand is being held by Satoru and your other clutches your pant leg. “I know it was stupid,” you admit quietly. “The truth is I wasn’t really thinking at that point. With how the whole mission had gone sideways and I was trying to wrap my head around one of you being dead already and when that monster spoke to me I lost it. In my mind that meant both of you were dead.” You bring your free hand up and push your hair back from your face, tugging at it a little. 

“You almost died.” Suguru’s voice is quiet. “Shoko said If you’d gone much longer without healing you would have bled out internally.”  You wince, more at the underlying pain in Suguru’s voice than anything. 

Satoru looks away from you for the first time since this conversation began and looks at the rain streaked window. He was glad that Suguru at least hadn’t gotten a front seat to your beating like he had. The memory of the  sounds of your limbs breaking and your ear shattering scream make bile rise in his throat.  And while he really wished you hadn’t further provoked the man he’s not sure that bastard would have left you with just your arms wrecked even if you hadn’t spit in his face. Normally he would get a kick out of you getting feisty like that but in this situation it in all likelihood got you a good deal more hurt. The injuries to your arms wouldn’t have been lethal but the crushing blow to your stomach had been like you’d been hit by a truck but the impact had been focused entirely into the diameter of that man’s fist. He had no doubt you’d reinforced yourself with cursed energy otherwise there’s no way Suguru would have gotten to you in time and you might have actually had a hole through your stomach instead of your organs getting battered.

When you remain quiet, thinking over their words Suguru speaks again, drawing Satoru’s gaze back. “How do you think we would have felt if you’d died and we both survived? After we decided to bring you with us? Your death would have been on us.” He sits up so he can look at you more directly. 

You’d already admitted you hadn’t been thinking in the moment but that question really struck you. You hadn’t thought either of them were alive but he’s right, you’d been wrong in your assumption and had nearly died for it. Almost left them behind like you thought you had been.  

“You went into a frenzy because you thought we’d died right? Because you thought you lost us both and that feeling overwhelmed you?” Satoru questions you and glances away when you look toward him. “Neither of us wants to lose you either. So just…” He roughly runs a hand through his hair, making it spike out wildly. The anger that had pinched his expression fades and turns into something softer, his cheeks tingeing just a bit pink in the low light of the TV’s glow. “Keep yourself safe even if you don’t want to do it for yourself, do it for us. Even if you think one or both of us has died you need to keep living. Because what's the point if you’re not alive and happy?” 

Suguru chuckles and Satoru gives him a somewhat annoyed look, “What?”

“Nothing. You just put that very well. Almost sounds like you were making a confession for the both of us.” A smug sort of smile etches its way onto Suguru’s tired face, his first smile since what happened in the depths of Jujutsu tech. 

You’re glancing back and forth between the two of them with large eyes, gears turning in your head overriding some of the guilt that had been building. A confession..? The puzzle pieces begin to fall into place for you.  All the time spent training with you, the movie night, taking you on that mission even though they knew Yaga would be pissed at them, all the moments you’d shared with them leading up to going back to the school, your position now snug between the two of them-  You let go of Satoru’s hand and dip your head, covering your face with your hands. Okay maybe you’re a little stupid.

And that's it for part 5! I really hope you guys like it. And yes we're finally hitting the relationship part of things! If you find any errors please ignore them, I've gone over this so many times already to catch everything that I nearly went cross eyed.

@strawberrystepmom @icy-spicy @nanamikentoseyebags @gojoest @porridgesblog

#satoru gojo x reader #suguru geto x reader #jjk x reader #gn!reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #jjk x gn!reader #gojo x reader x geto #satoru x reader x suguru #geto x reader x gojo #rossi writes

[inactivewattpadauthor]

Shang Tsung x Reader: At Your Service (Lemon)

Warning: LEMONNN, Fuck the plot, Servant/Master Dynamic, Slight Petplay

(Rushed btw, so low quality lemon today) ~~~~~~~~~~~~ The cold air loiters against your skin, making you feel relaxed at you lay in the bed of Shang Tsung's. Stretching and moaning lowly, waiting for your master to return to see you laying in his bed, only in the black lingerie he adores.

Opening the double doors that lead to his chambers, the sorcerer got a warm welcome from the sight of you waiting for him. Viewing the smirk on your face that shouted out lust.

"Greetings, Master Shang." You sit up, waiting for him to come to you.

The villainous man gives you his iconic smug look, clearly intrigued already by you. "Evening, my dear Y/n. Has my pet been waiting for me like a good girl?"

Nodding for your response, biting your lip, he chuckles. "I have something for you, dear." He pulls out a fancy collar with small bells decorating it, dangling from a black thin leash.

Shang Tsung walks to you, and you sit still as he moves your hair back to attach the collar around your neck, listening to the slight tinkling bells.

He pulls away after the collar is fastened around my neck, letting the leash drag on his hand until he wraps the handle of it around his hand.

Tugging on it, he guides you off the bed and onto the floor on your hands and knees. You crawl to him obediently. You look up at him with loving eyes and you hug around his leg and nuzzle his thigh, letting out a hum that is more like a purr.

"Are you going to be a good pet, tonight?" Shang Tsung asks, placing his fingers in your hair to play with the h/c locks.

"Yes, Shang Tsung." You practically drooled just thinking of serving him the way he wants.

The man walks you to the bed and lays back against the headboard before pulling you over his lap, getting you to straddle.

First, his hand touches your face and then trails to your neck. It travels low and low until it goes to your undergarment, which he slowly hooks down with a finger to see how wet you are.

"Good girl." He whispers, pulling you in for a kiss. The kiss was nonetheless sweet and gentle first. "You know what I want from you, right?" He pulls away and places a hand on your cheek.

You nod before pulling his pants down for him and hovering just above his member. You leaned in for another kiss again, this time, an open mouth kiss.

A hand cautiously held your chin as his tongue went in your mouth to claim you whole, making you wet to where you felt your arousal drip down your thigh. You were so ready to take him in.

Both legs on each side of his, you look at him and wait for his command to lower yourself and get him inside.

His eyes narrow at you with desire and he gives you the signal. With the help of his hand on your waist, you guide yourself down onto his dick, taking in his size into your cunt, already crying out from the stretch.

This is what you yearned since sun fall, moving up and down on him, unable to focus on how his face lightens up, smiling and breathing softly at you taking him so well as he trained you to.

"That's it..." He murmurs darkly. "Ride me like the good little pet you are for me."

"Master.... Master!" You shout, feeling him press deep inside you at a spot.

"Shhh, too loud." His thumb presses against your lips. You do your best to hush up, but it's such a pointless attempt. Shang knows you try, though.

Grabbing the leash and yanking on it, he makes his next order. "Tell me how much you enjoy serving me."

"I-I live for it- live t-to serve you. I enjoy you so much!" You manage to whimper out.

Shang Tsung laughs before guiding your face again to kiss you, thrusting his hips upwards to help stimulate you more, feeling your pussy tighten up around him.

You could hear the skin of you two clap as he keeps thrusting into you, same time as you move down. It didn't take much for you to cum already.

Though it was pretty soon, he wasn't going to punish you this time for releasing without his permission or because it's early, but he still continues on, working on his pleasure. No matter if you end up cumming again. Or again. Or again.

After awhile, you feel his warm seed spill into you. His moans were muffled by the long, passionate kiss of you too.

Letting you finally take a breather, he helps you off his dick. In which, you collapse beside him, pretty satisfied and overstimulated.

The handsome sorcerer pulls you to his chest, having you cuddle against him for the time being as you rest up.

His hand runs through your hair and he whispers comforting things in your ears.

"Such a good girl."

"You made me feel so good. You are a delightful one, Y/n."

Much more as your vision were blurring.

"Mm, I love you." You tiredly reply.

"Oh, sweet one." The portrayed snake continues petting your hair. "Quiet now and get some rest. May we have more of our little fun soon." ~~~~~~~~~~~~

#mortal kombat 11 #mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #mk imagine #mortal kombat imagines #mk headcanons #mortal kombat headcanons #shang tsung x reader #shang tsung #shang tsung x you #goddesswritings

[precious-little-scoundrel]

Masters of the Air Fanfic

As requested by sweet @arianatheangel-girl and the subsequent poll for a “Buck Cleven Fic before the series comes out” -and I, being a madwoman with no impulse control and a faint recollection of the book, have delivered…this…whatever this is

Song Challenge: i was challenged by dear @the-ugly-swan for a twenty favored songs challenge and I’m gonna go ahead and make this part of it. August by Taylor Swift informed some of the bittersweet timeline here, with infidelity not being the enemy but rather the lack of possessing oneself fully during wartime to give to another

Spoilers: historical accuracy and inaccuracy abound here so, beware there are some biographical facts about Cleven in here that might count as spoilers to those who wish to watch the series with a blank slate. While to the history purists I must beg for a substantial amount of artistic license to be granted me, and obviously I’ve not seen the show yet and I crunched the timeline to my own will

Reader insert but without the use of “y/n” -I’m utterly fudging a bit on the likelihood of a WAAF lady being part of the American ground crew, however, I had in my minds eye the vision of a greasy mechanic and a glamorous flyboy and it wouldn’t budge, so shhh, go with the vibe

Warnings: mature, 18+. Fluffy smut was requested and while it is very brief and mild in here, not very explicit in phrasing, it’s quite present and a plot point so beware. Also, Virgin!Gale has my heart so we went with that. No shade to dear Marjorie irl, I’ll probably end up writing fics about her once the show gives me Inspo. Some angst due to war, POW’s, etc, mild language

Word count: a monstrous 12k

They came in like locusts at the height of summer, long prayed for, oft cursed in moments of perilous isolation, those ever so intriguingly shiny Americans.

Swarming with a metal buzz over the flatlands of East Anglia, big hulking beasts touched down on fresh tarmacs with more grace than anything that size ought to have, flashing the most bizarre and suggestive paintings on their gleaming fuselages. Flying Fortresses, they were called, and deserved the name. Nothing but the biggest, the loudest, the most alarming machinery would do for the American war effort, and now all this mighty strength was Britain’s too, no longer alone, no longer enduring.

Now the fight could be taken to the enemy in earnest. Out of their flying ships poured the most alarmingly young looking faces, jaunty hats and leather jackets, they looked every bit the sort of fellows war was advertised to.

Farmers in their tractors, mothers with daughters still under their command and RAF veterans all looked askance at such pristine warriors. Had their fertile fields been paved into airfields just for this? Were these gum chewing boys the long expected aid? It wasn’t anti-climactic, nothing American could ever be, it was all just alarmingly fresh. It was understandable then, the initial tentativeness the locals felt towards their new occupants, the way the boys took up such space in the rural villages, made such a racket in the pubs, chased every skirt that swished in the rainy summer breeze, stuck hands out for a shake no matter the introduction. They were a warm, boisterous and confident lot, all much needed attributes in wartime Britain, and soon, the initial distrust of the citizenry thawed, hands were shaken in return and invitations made. An amiable amalgamation eventually occurred, Norfolk never to recover or return to whatever placidity had been her’s before the arrival of the 100th.

Personally, you couldn’t wait to get your hands on them. The planes, that is.

Amalgamation was less a choice for yourself and your service members than a duty. It was abnormal, having a mixed ground crew, British and American servicemen too often clashing in hierarchy disputes for it to be standard, but with deployment rates so high and casualties mounting, ground crew became a case of whichever skilled individuals could be called upon to keep the operation running, the pilots up and the enemy bombed.

You were just glad to be near home, first time back since ‘39 when you’d signed up in the Women's Auxiliary Air Force -even if your rural hometown was now overrun with Americans. They weren’t a bad lot at all, at least not the ones you’d encountered so far on base. Amiable and unexpectedly eager, undeterred by veterans’ grim looks and tales of the woodchipper across the channel, that line of anti-aircraft that shredded anything trying to penetrate the continent.

“Better get crackin’ then.” Was the common response followed by a grin.

Your crew chief sergeant, Ken Lemmons, an American with a forelock of sandy ringlets and the patience of a saint, made the job easier even as every ounce of expertise was exacted from each man -or woman- under him. Feeding a fiery chain of bullets into the turret gun under a hot July sun, you thought your papa may have had the right of it when he tried to dissuade you from choosing the harsher duties of the Auxiliary Force. You could’ve been pouring over a map in the cool of the boardroom right now, or passing on radio messages, even shuttling planes would’ve been more relaxing, but no, you’d spent your life passing him tools in his garage, your papa had been building flying machines when most for these boys were still in diapers, and that path called to you, too. So for you it was grueling maintenance work and the ever present grime of grease on your hands and the awkward reach of twisted metal repairs. Gratefully, after their first mission, there were plenty of them back safe, however riddled their fortresses might’ve been.

It was interesting, the way certain of the flight crew treated the ships. Some were endeared but indifferent to their repairs while others hovered at each hole and tear, like over protective mothers, while you and your mates tried to do your jobs.

Why, one plane in the five assigned to your care was even named “Our Baby”. With such a moniker it made sense that its porcelain faced pilot would caress the shredded wing with a misty eyed frown at each wound, like it were a breathing thing, a race horse, a friend. You didn’t judge it, and he didn’t seem aware of his audience, he’d be back out there doing his own check up after debriefing. Never interrupting your work, always quick to step aside or duck out of the way of a ground crewman’s path, it wasn’t time to chatter or make introductions, although sometimes when the work took long and his reports longer, he’d be there to bid goodnight to you all, soft, American drawl saying “Goodnight, thank ya, goodnight, good work, thank ya” again and again to each.

You grew to recognize them, the ones each mission spared, there were so many and under hats and bundled in leather jackets they tended to blend together, but there were those who made their mark, if not on you then on Dorace in cartography and Eileen at the Red Cross. There was much tittering and speculation, after all, spread thin as their time was, there was also plenty of off time, made all the more charged and anxious as it came in the form of waiting for new orders. The men would be vibrating with nervous energy and generous in the flush of a recent victory and they took it out on the little villagers who in good British fashion took it on the chin and challenged them to a contest of good spirits.

Those were happy days, less anxious than the preceding ones and less heavy than those making up the year after. You dared be roped into the multiple pub crawls, often choosing the most sensible and quiet of the group as your victim and attaching yourself to their side for the evening. This tactic had its fallibility, sometimes those moderates were such a bore as to be unsupportable or hadn’t enough verve to make a full night of it and retired early like respectable, curfew-abiding saps. That’s how you found yourself one night ensconced in a beer pungent corner of Flaggen’s, green leather seats sticky under your palms, with Major Egan fanning out a wad of cash in front of you. It was a blatant attempt to bribe you to clear his aircraft sooner than the last inspection suggested.

“Suggestions” was Egan’s term for regulations.

If you were less tipsy you wouldn’t have giggled at the man’s idiocy, but his arm was heavy around your shoulders and this very cash had bought you one too many gin and tonics. “These regulations keep you alive!” You chided him, shaking your head and feeling the room tip as you did. Truly these Americans could hold their liquor, almost as well as the Polish Squadron when it came to a binge.

“A little flack isn’t gonna keep her down.” he scoffed, “I’ve been grounded for a week now-“

“-I don’t have the authority-“

“-and I’m not gonna sit here while Buck goes up and racks up his number!” Eagen was vehemently slurring and your drunken mind tried to process who Buck was, if not Egan himself.

“Aren’t you Bucky?” you asked, bewildered.

-Americans and their nicknames.

“Yeah.”

“So who’s Buck?” you concentrated very hard on the ancient coaster beneath your latest pint.

“It’s Buck! It’s Gale, Cleven, Major Gale Cleven!” Egan waxed louder and more dramatic with each addition. “You keep clearing his plane! But not mine! Why’s that, huh?”

“How do you know that?” you asked, dubious and only in the raucous of this little pub would his loud voice go unheeded. Compared to the ongoing dart game to the left behind the half wall, an elephant’s trumpeting would be considered bashful.

“ ‘Cause he tells me?” he replied, bewildered at your slowness, “Says you and your crew are little fairies, crawlin’ all over his plane and patching it up better than ever after each mission. And then you clear him. Simple as that.”

“I don’t have authority to clear anyone.” you repeated.

“Huh,” Egan grunted, “how’does he mean then?”

“I don’t know.” you replied firmly, “I doubt I’ve even got your plane, i don’t see you around.”

“I don’t stay around, that’s your job, patching up. I just fly the damn thing.”

“Oh, well.” you shrugged, “I’ve had five, it’s down to three after last mission.” Three years ago the mention of that ratio of losses would’ve sank your mood to the floorboards, by now it’s horrifically routine. “What’s yours called?”

“Mugwump.” he grinned proudly, a flash of white beneath his dark mustache, the man’s face positively shimmered with sweat.

“Serial?” you asked demurely, just to be difficult.

He squinted his eyes shut briefly, head tilted back as if to ask the heavens for help and the recited in a drill master’s staccato “42-30066, ma’am, yes ma’am.”

You giggled again and Egan’s arm jostled your shoulders, smushing you further into him. They were good fun, these boys, didn’t even mind your horrifyingly unflattering uniform with its bulging pockets adding bulk where your curves should take center stage and your stupid pleated cap making you look to be half baker, half doll. You preferred your plain navy coveralls but you’d hardly be let into an establishment in them. Egan’s warm arm didn’t seem to mind the excess poof of the material, he smashed it right down with his hand’s firm grip, he was fun, you decided, no harm in good fun. “Alas, not one of mine.” you sighed, focusing hard on the serial number.

“Damn.” he swore, playing at dejection.

“No,” you went on, “but I’ve got this one, a very spoiled one, maybe you know whose it is. They named it ‘Our Baby’!”

Poor manners and personnel etiquette though it was, you couldn’t say it without tittering.

Egan didn’t laugh, he just looked at you like you’d proved his point. “Yeah,” he replied vehemently, “That’s Buck Cleven’s!”

“Oooh.” -So it was him, the fighting cherub, the walking doughboy, toothpick, baby at wings: there were a dozen or more nicknames you and the ground crew gave the wing-petting Major behind his back. “He always says goodnight to us.” you said instead.

“Is that where he is when I wanna go for a drink?” Egan exclaimed, “Ha! You’d think he was married to the ole ship.”

“He handles her beautifully.” You feel oddly compelled to defend, he’s a master at flight and as someone who must repair each fault of his landings and his leavings and his missions, you feel some loyalty to his finesse. “He handles her so well.” you repeat in the tone of a woman who’s seen some aviation in her time, young though you may be.

“Well let me let you into a lil secret,” Egan smirks and you brace without knowing why, he is, after all, not the respectable and dull men you choose to go out with, he is the dangerous sort you bring those dullards along to deter, “shes the only ‘she’ that boy has ever ‘handled’ -if ya get my drift.”

The sleazy wag of his eyebrows leaves no room for ignorance, you feel your face heat up, wether in prudery for the topic or second hand embarrassment for his friend’s sake, you don’t know.

“Nothing wrong with that.” you reply coldy, only to distance yourself from the road his body language seemed to be hurtling you both down.

“Quite right. Nothin’ at all!” Egan agrees vehemently, his smile easy and his eyes clever “But I’d be a poor friend if I didn't try to remedy his predicament.”

“Telling me is somehow part of this remedy?” you were suspicious, rightfully so.

“Maybe.” Egan drawls it out, shifting in his seat to no longer corner you, his attention drawn to the nearby dart game. The man of the moment, the subject, the handler of planes and none else, was not here. He had such a luminous head of golden hair, it would be a beacon amongst the muddy haired crowd flinging darts. “The thing of it is, dear,” Egan confided, “I've had an absolutely marvelous time since I got here. And I think that’s rather essential, for sanity and for international relations, don’t you? I’ve gotten to know all sorts of wonderful people, lovely people like yourself-“

“-word is, you’ve known them a little too biblically, no wonder Cleven avoids your outings.” You could not help but temper him. “Half of Great Britain has had the privilege, if some are to be believed.”

“And so what if I have? I love dancin’!” he laughed quite happily at your barb and you didn’t have it in you to pull down any further a man who was sacrificing so much day in and out. “Getting to know Great Britain is a better occupation than pettin’ plane wings under the moonlight.”

You tittered again at his words and the oddly endearing memories you had of watching Major Ceven petting and whispering to his plane like she was his long-standing beloved, loitering ground crew unheeded. “He does do that.” you agreed.

“Hey, everyone’s got their method.” Egan insisted in his friend’s defense, “But I have told him, it’s good for the morale to mingle, even if he hates drinkin’.“

You pucker your face at that. “I know he mingles, Violet says he’s a doll when he goes to market.” you point out, small town chatter gets around and while you can’t say you know Cleven, you know he’s mild mannered and precious. And a terribly pretty face too, which isn’t fair, he oughta be an ass which a face that cute. “And he got a tan from somewhere last week.“

“Oh, so ya noticed!” Egan is triumphant, “A bunch of us used our day passes to go messin’ around in boats on the canals.”

“Good for you.” you didn’t know what else to say. “Why are we talking about him? What’s your point? I can ask for your plane to be transferred to my crew, but it won’t get you a sloppy clearance. And if your friend is so socially awkward he can’t even manage a pub night, you can hardly expect me to be flattered that you consider me prime material to throw at him.”

“He’s not awkward.” Egan cut to the chase quite serious, in mission mode, “Buck just had his hopes tangled up back home, and now he’s here he’s finding it hard to accept that hopes were all they were. She’s real moved on.” Well that had hurt, you winced in sympathy. “I warned him, everything during this war has got to be taken as a bit inpermanent. Don’t fall in love with Texas girls when you’re headed to England -via: Louisiana, Indiana, hell, by New York she’d stopped writing.”

“And now the texas girl has-“

“-found a Texan, I guess.” He shrugged and chugged the last of his pint. “She’s gettin’ married, it's really over. So, -“ he made a broad gesture as if to explain his reasoning for this entire segue. “-you like projects, you wouldn’t be in the line of work you’re in if ya didn’t, so whaddya say?”

You looked around the dimly lit pub in search of two things, sunny blonde hair and a clock to tell you how badly you were going to regret this night, come morning. “He’s not even here.” you balked.

“Well, no-“

“-what I say is,” you grinned at him disbelieving, “you owe me another gin and tonic for subjecting me to such inane chatter.”

His grin should have served as warning enough that he would neither drop the subject nor let you off free this evening. In fact, the ticking clock and its late curfew breaking hours became the least of your concerns come morning. The cool wash of bitter juniper blended into the pungent flow of beer, it blurred everything, soon there was a great swelling of pride for your native village, a pub crawl was on, all three visited and drank from, an army Jeep was requisitioned without authority, there was some incident regarding a policeman‘s helmet. The latter being the reason why you found yourself in “jail” the next morning, nursing a raging headache and questioning life decisions while glaring at John Egan’s polished boots.

There was very little talk about bail or Air Force hours being exceptioned, the more pressing concern to the Bobbies who had nabbed you was the coed holding cell. Thorpe Abbotts was a small place, after all, and you liked it that way. If this overly indulgent night could be kept away from the military police, all would be well.

You had one hope: Harry Crosby was sensibly absent from the holding cell, having a keen sense of when to depart from the raucous joyride at the precise moment to save himself a demerit. It was an extreme embarrassment to you that you’d not had the same sense. In fact, fond as you were of a bit of a knees up, you couldn’t quite credit the fact you had allowed yourself such free reign, or accomplished such foolishness. Glowering at Major Egan’s face now, animated with delighted chagrin at your shared plight as it was, you vowed to never again hook your fortunes to his, as it were.

Your resolve, and humiliation, was about to be compounded, exponentially.

There was a bustle of a visitor entering the precinct, easily heard in the small space, followed by the low hum of mild mannered conversation. It went on for sometime, and no amount of straining at the bars and cocking of ears would allow you, Egan or your fellow misfortunates to ascertain the gist of it. Violet’s husband was the main constable, and you were quite certain he’d be moderate in his sentence, he had his helmet back, after all. It was the Air Force penalty of not being on base in time this morning that you feared, a growing nausea that compounded the misery of your aching head. They’d not discharge Egan, they’d probably not even demote him, he was too crucial and he’d done this one too many times for it to be grace alone saving him. When he was needed, really needed, he was there. That’s what counted. The same could be said of you, but that hardly mattered given your low rank.

Violet’s husband, also known as constable Herbert, came in sight and with a jangle of keys and a tap to the side of his nose, swung open the bars of infamy and gestured for you and your fellow inmates to file out.

“All sorted.” He declared. His gaze lingered on you as it had many times in your life when you’d been caught jumping in puddles after church, “Let this be a lesson and a warning to you.”

You tried your best at both obeisance and penitence, both of which were rather natural feelings at the present time, while hurrying past as fast as was respectful, your approaching shift hours making your heart thump in panic.

On the steps outside, your savior was loitering against the wrought iron fence, thumbing at the petunias in the nearby window box. Gale Cleven was a mile long of lanky body in perfectly pressed and tailored Air Force greens, fresh faced as the good conscienced are, hair combed without his cap and a smile on his soft face that was composedly long suffering, rather than endeared, as he watched you miscreants pour out of the modest brick building.

You stumbled to a halt on the first step at the sight of him and allowed your instincts to take over, hands smoothing down hair and skirt with frantic self consciousness. You must’ve looked a rumple.

“I hope last night was worth it.” Cleven drawled in that voice of his, so oddly deep for so fresh a face, his placid smile growing into something more genuinely mirthful as Egan smooched at him in gratitude and swore that he knew his Buck wouldn’t abandon them, that his Buck would pull through for them. “I order a round of toothpaste for everyone and cold showers, you stink.” Gale shied away without any real effort, nodding in greeting to the boys he recognized.

Then, as if in the most painfully slow motion with all the strong string accompaniment of a silver screen scene, his eyes landed on you and an odd ache formed in your chest at the anticipation of his disapproval.

It made you tense and draw yourself up to your full height, looking about as regal as a drenched bantam in your disheveled dignity, but you weren’t about to be relegated to another tier than these boys he so amusedly indulged.

“Y’all know what time it is?” he asked mildy, those azure orbs with their batting dark fringe didn’t waver and you realized he indeed had more guts than you’d given him credit for.

There was a chorus of “no”s and various guesses based on the fast evaporating fog and the lightening sky.

“Zero five thirty.” he ended the suspense with the cock of an eyebrow at you.

“Shit!” Egan was suddenly animated, “Shit, shit-“

“Hey, you keep your swearin’ away from my sweet lil corporal.” Cleven chided, and it took you a brief moment to startle upon realizing he meant you. And he thought you sweet? “C’mon Miss,” he waved you down the steps and for some inexplicable reason you felt very compelled to obey and suddenly stood beneath his gaze like a dutiful child awaiting deliverance or censure, “I’ve only got this bike, petrol allotment ran out when we went to the canals last week. But it’ll get ya back faster than this lot. Reckon you can manage on the handlebar?”

“Wha-?“ you glanced sideways at the bike with its large, sweeping handlebars and second guessed his meaning until he himself was straddling it. His legs required the seat to be hiked up impossibly high and the narrow nip of his waist was accentuated by the posture. Those padded, fleece puffed jackets you had seen him in had done no credit to his form, a toothpick he may have been with how terribly lean he was, but he was firm in all the right places. He was also waiting on you to answer while you ogled him.

“Gosh yes, I can, if you’re sure? Awfully kind of you.” you blathered and moved in a hurry to make up for your stalling, keenly conscious of his eyes on your back as you shimmied your backside up onto his handlebars, feeling the warm press of his hand as he helped steady you from tipping all the way back. You wiggled on the thin metal bar, spreading your legs on either side of the front wheel and doing your best to ignore the raucous commentary of the still tipsy audience of your fellow inmates swaying on the precinct steps. “Y’all just be glad there’s no mission scheduled today.” he snarked to them instead and they chimed up that last night’s idiocy was calculated with that in mind.

“Huh.” Cleven uttered, unimpressed, behind you and it made you shiver, worse than if your father caught wind of this stunt. “Darlin’ put your hands over mine, s’gonna get wobbly takin’ off.” he directed next and you did as you were told, looking back over your shoulder at him with a grateful smile that you were relieved to see returned, pink lips stretching and a freckled nose bunching up sweetly when all of the sudden a rush caught you by surprise and the bike was in motion and you whipped your head back to view the street as it rushed up ahead of you. “See ya boys!” he hollered out as a mutinous babble rose from his friends at being left to jog back.

The young man could put some speed on a bike, uphill too. Or, as much of a hill as could be found this far East. You could hear him chuckle when you squeaked at the first jolt of a pothole, your thumbs hooking under his hands and curling into his palms. They were warm and calloused, dry from the cool breeze and you may have imagined the way he squeezed them in assaurance but you did not imagine the way his voice piped up again, smooth and conversational: “Harry told me if I was quick I could get you out in time, I think we’re gonna make it. S’dont worry, even if Sergeant Lemmons gives ya trouble, I’ll insist.”

“That’s really too kind of you.” The chill of windburn and a substantial amount of remorse made your cheeks glow scarlet. “All of it is. I’m rather ashamed.”

“I didn’t take you for an all nighter sort.” he agreed but followed it with a soothing compliment, “You’ve always been nothin’ but perfect. P-p-perfectly punctual, I mean, and there’s no reason to let Egan’s idea of fun ruin your record.”

“Wasn’t his fault. Not wholly.” you sighed, giving Violet a bashful wave as you passed her opening the shop, a wave which Cleven mirrored behind you and between the two of you letting go the bike, it nearly dumped you both. It was luck and sheer persistence that righted you and kept your balance. “I’m afraid it’s a bit of a bad habit, picked it up at Northolt.”

“Where’s that?” he asked.

“South, by the coast.” you said, unsure why you felt the need to explain your debauchery away, “I was working a ground crew down there for a bunch of Polish Pilots. Spitfires mainly. That squadron nabbed the most kills of any in the RAF back in ‘40. Why, even Churchill visited more times than I can count, he found them good fun. Too much fun, they never went to bed without downing half a barrel. There was dice built into the bottom of the pints at the Black Bull, rather addictive, rolling to see who would buy the next round. —There was always a next.” You added upon reflection.

That was also the year you had lost your brother. The correlation between the habit and the loss wasn’t to be dwelt on.

“Huh,” Cleven let out one of him contemplative hums, “and how do we compare?” he asked surprisingly.

“How?” you laughed, daring to crane your neck back to see him in the early morning sunshine, pretty and sweet and arch in his expression. Dusk had not done his mama’s work on his face any justice, it made you want to pant he was so pretty.

“I dunno, in any way,” he laughed in turn, not even breathless as he sped the bike over the cobblestones, the village barely awake and mostly quiet, “how do we compare?”

“To the Poles?”

“Or the French. Or your own, the RAF ain’t no joke.” he amended, “Whoever is our competition.”

“So it is a competition.” you smirked -how very American of him. “Depends,” you hedged playfully, “Our boys are so very nice, familiar, they never run out the right coinage during a date either. But the French are better flirts while the Dutch are better dancers. But the Poles, they know how to romance. Lots of hand kissing and flowers, so many flowers there had to be rules made for overstocking the billet.”

“Sounds like we gotta step up our game.” he decided.

“Is that what you meant? How you compare? First impressions?”

“I-I- guess, yeah.” he now sounded confused, “I mean, what else? You got scores for aircraft?”

“I do.” you replied, as it was true, “But that’s unfair, you’ve only just arrived. I thought maybe you wanted to know something more -salacious.”

“Like?” His tone behind you was guarded and you doubted if the alcohol of last night were not still buzzing and fortifying your brazenness, that you’d ever go through with what you said next.

“Other performances. For instance, in bed.”

You felt his fingers flutter around the bars beneath your own, you gripped them tighter, not just because the stretch of old road before the air base was ancient and pitted but because you were in an agony of suspense as to how he’d take your forwardness.

“There’s a record of that somewhere?” he asked at last, a beat too long, too delayed for casualness, too morose for flippancy.

“In fact there is.” you responded carefully. “A little diary of rankings, actually, there’s multiple and whenever there’s a grand assembly of the WAAF or the WACs, they’re passed about and tallied.”

“Sweet Jesus.” he swore behind you, “And here I’ve been chalkin’ up railways and munition dump targets like they’re some achievement.”

“Oh it’s all a bit of silliness.” You assured, not intending to make him glum.

“Do-“ he hesitated and you prayed for strength for him to spit it out as the airfield came in sight on the flat plain ahead. He didn’t.

“-Do I what?” you prodded softly.

“Are one of these little tallies yours?” he asked miserably.

You grinned to yourself and felt the sunshine seemed brighter and the air crisper than ever before as it rushed in your face with the slowing speed of his bike. “No, not in the least. I merely keep track of Sally’s ledger. It’s all a bit too -messy, for me.”

You dared peak behind you again and he looked relieved, then blushed furiously at your observance of him. “Well, who does Sally say is winning?” he dared.

“Romania.” you chortled and he did too, in shock if nothing else. “But Egan’s caught wind of it, he’s quite determined to save your country’s dominance, you don’t need to sweat it.”

His frown was back and you had to focus on not falling off as he slowed the bike to a halt, momentum precarious as his long legs kicked out and walked it the last yard to the segregated barracks, you felt his hand again on your waist to steady you. “Does that bother you?” he asked earnestly, sorrow in his blue eyes.

He offered a hand for you as you hopped down and it was you who held onto it long after it was needed. “Bother me?”

“Yeah, him -consortin’…with Sally?” he pressed, hands quite engulfing your one, “Does it hurt you? Bucky, see, he doesn’t mean to hurt, he’s just so-“

“-Blimey, you are a dear.” you marveled and then amended your interruption as your amusement only further creased that sweet face, “If I am ever again in Major Egan’s company, it will only be to escape it just as quickly. I’ve had quite enough of…consorting.”

“That so?” The lackadaisical confidence he exhibited outside of the precinct was back again, a not unattractive smirk plastered on his vulnerable face, a scheme in his guileless eyes. “Had enough of holding cells?”

“Quite.” you smirked back. “A quiet family dinner is more my style, the occasional picnic, even a zip round Oxford as one must show the foreigners about.” you paused and squeezed his hand once more, “And I do enjoy a bike ride.”

You did not know if he cataloged your preferences for an ideal date or not, life was busy, after all, and the momentary frolics in the July sunshine and banter on the tarmac and evenings in the pub were the exception. Time went on. Most of life was spent in the air, in his case, and in yours, beneath the belly of his beast, wrench in hand. But ever after his gallant rescue of you, there was more than the passing “goodnight” paid to you, there were cheerful smiles on his exhausted face when he returned from a mission, as if you were the one face he was coming back to. With an old familiar dread you noticed the way you begin to take each hole and dent and damage to his plane personally, as if it had been exacted on something precious to you. You have begun to care, for him and for his men, and your tired heart could barely do more than dread what that might lead to.

Good fun. That’s what these boys were supposed to be.

Gale Cleven hadn’t proven much fun. And somehow that was worse. It was worse and also unbearably honoring to be the last face he saw before taking it off, flags in your hands waving in front of his hulking bomber, giving the old familiar directions for a perfect takeoff, one he executed sublimely time and again. His sober, purposeful nods to you before he engaged and taxied out for a mission of death was more intense and intimate than any bouquet or even, your thought, a kiss. It was true the donut dollies on the sidelines were often the last faces of home that many of those boys would see. But in the his cockpit, looking down at your shrimp sized figure on the tarmac, both Major Cleven and you knew that for him, it was yours.

Once, there was a scare, in the first days of august. More than a scare if you were being honest, your heartbeat about stopped and didn’t pick back up for a few hours until word came in. The rest of the base wasn’t much better.

Ten planes had not come back. -Among them, Our Baby. And Mugwump. For two officers, so crucial, so senior, idolized and beloved as they were, to not return, was a blow like none other. You weren’t alone in hovering around the control shack, taking license of your friendship with Dorace to get a play by play of any news. When news came, such as it was, it was both relieving and exasperating.

It would seem there was some problem, a defect or too great of a hit. Orders to land in enemy territory were ignored, however, by Cleven no less. He had doggedly pushed on, safely landing them in allied Africa, of all places. It took almost a day for this information to finally be pasted together, by the end of it you were sad, haggard and half useless in your coveralls, stupendously relieved for a man you were supposed to feel professionally about.

Instead, that night, tucked in your own bed after a meal with your parents and little brother, you thanked God for keeping him -them, all of them- safe. And found yourself pondering the tan on him when he got back from his African foray. Some jealous part of you feared he might be kept there but a week later the thunderous hum of approaching bombers buzzed the air overhead of Thorpe Abbotts and the satisfying thwump of wheels touching down brought them back. There was a frenzy of greetings, flight and ground crew eager to welcome them back, the radio operators, too, and even the civilians who’d managed to get on base.

Your little brother among them. Donald wanted to see them back safe and it wasn’t dangerous, and it wasn’t dire, not returning from a mission the planes wouldn’t be in such poor shape. They’d been repaired in Africa, enough to fly them all the way back to England. So little Donald was nearby and when the crowd parted and a bee-line for Cleven became apparent, he took advantage and gave the young man a firm handshake in greeting.

“Hey buddy, thank ya, who do you belong to?” Buck laughed while returning the firm grip.

“I’m her brother.” Donald pointed you out proudly among the dispersing crowd and you rolled your eyes at his expectancy for Gale to know or care about you, more than your most pertinent work on base.

“Oh are ya now, hers, huh?” he grinned at you, “Been talkin’ about me?” he greeted, there was a still healing scrape on his left temple that your fingers itched to soothe. How badly had he hit his head?

“Of course I have.” you defended, happiness bubbling under your lips and threatening to make you smile more than was professional, you could see Sergeant Lemmons observing you from the side and tried to keep some decorum. “We thought you’d died.” You stated plainly, it wasn’t any secret to Donald, as soon as the plane had gone missing and before radio contact had been reestablished, you’d rushed home and made the family pray over supper.

“We’ve been praying for you.” Donald agreed, and you saw Cleven startle, a gasped intake of breath between those lush lips and his eyes seemed to water as he searched first your brother’s face and then your own.

“You have?” he choked out, raspy and touched.

“Yes.” you whispered, mouth twisting in a ugly grimace to hold back your own emotion. It was of little use, something beyond War Effort investment in his well being had been admitted. “We thought you might be dea-“

-you didn’t finish your reiteration of your dread. Your face, a greasy and mist spattered face, was suddenly smushed into the padded leather of his bomber jacket, nose tucked right into the fleece apex where his pale blue scarf always rested on his throat.

He was hugging you, you realized with delayed surprise.

“-even though it made the potatoes cold, Da insisted on prayin’ every night after she told us-“ Donald was waxing eloquent on his own sacrifices of having one added prayer request lengthening his mealtime but you were oblivious to more than the firm press of Cleven’s still gloved hand to the back of your scarf wrapped head, some strong emotion shuddering through his body against your own. A tremor of terror and pain, you suspected, emotions he’d been suppressing all week.

After all, the saved weren’t supposed to be shaken up. They’d been saved, what was there to be off about? You’d seen enough pilots after a close call to know it was every bit as bad or worse than actual disaster. They’d send him right back up again in days, and that was what was expected, demanded, required. He was tremoring against you and you gripped him tighter, sympathetic and aching to cure it somehow. Even for a moment.

“We’ll keep praying.” you assured, and you heard him clear his throat, snotty and rough. “Oh, blast, I’ve positively greased your jacket.” you mourned as he let you go, finally, and you caught sight of the mess your filthy hands and face had imprinted on it during the embrace.

He chuckled as he looked down at the imprint, “S’fine.”

After such an exchange of emotion the air felt charged between you two, without privacy or precedence, it felt unthinkable to linger in that mood. You turned to his plane and pet the fuselage with unstudied fondness, it had been horrid having the old bird absent. You were not above having favorites and the love he poured into his ship, somehow, like some old fairytale truism, made the hulking metal beast lovable, in turn. “How’s our baby, hmm?” you asked him, giving him a sly smile and he took your proffered out seamlessly, joining you in cataloging the damage that had not been deemed severe enough to hamper his return.

“Don’t crawl under here, sir!” you protested as you wiggled under the belly only to find him beside you in the plane’s shadow, “You’ll be a mess!”

“I’ve already got stains.” he brushed your worries off, and you knew it was true. Bloodstains in fact. He had lost a man, the report said, and apparently, judging by his trousers, Buck had held the poor fellow as he bled out. “And I wanna show you the spot I’m worried ‘bout.”

“Alright.” you conceded, allowing him to direct you to the nose. “Watch it Donald!” you had to reprimand your little brother who predictably followed after, “You’ll burn yourself if you touch that, this thing was just running.”

“Careful buddy.” Gale echoed gently beside you and pushed his little head down, more into a crawl. You refused to allow the gentle way he treated the brat to warm you, you refused. Or at least, you refused to let it show, the tingle and heat you felt being all too consuming to be denied.

He was lovely. But you already knew that. He was even more lovely when, upon crawling out from under Our Baby, he took his scarf from around his neck, silk decadently soft, flesh warmed and smelling strongly of his exertions, and swiped it across your greased cheek.

“You’ve got just a lil more…” he practically mumbled and wiped down to your chin, firm, gentle little rubs of the silk which required his other hand to grasp your chin to steady you. You weren’t sure when he’d taken off his gloves, but the feel of his skin on yours was heady.

“It’ll take a couple days.” You predicted regarding the repairs, “Which means you’ll have a few days free, if they don’t drown you in reports.”

“Oh they will.” he laughed, “But s’long as my days are free, means yours aren’t.” he pointed out.

“I guess that’s true.”

“We shoulda thought of that when we chose this line of work.” he joked and your cheeks flamed at the realization he wished to spend time with you. “But you’ll have your nights still, yeah?”

Coming from anyone else, the request for your nights to be reserved would strike you as suggestive indeed. But this was Buck, and when he mentioned nights you imagined nothing but taking him home for a tepid potato and rationed powdered milk supper and the warm reception of your family. His weary eyes suggested how badly he needed that. You could give it to him, and it made your heart glow.

“Yes, I’ll have my nights.” you agreed, “And you can have them, too.”

Sergeant Lemmons agreed with your estimation of Our Baby’s damage the following day and four long days after were spent patching up damage that suggested what a hellish ride that must’ve been. Someone else hosed the blood out of the bay but it turned the puddle on the concrete beside you sickly pink.

To and fro from office to barracks to observation tower, Cleven would stop by to see his ‘baby’ on these occasions. The heckling the ground crew gave you regarding this potential double meaning was agonizing and almost made his attentions not worth it. But then he’d be dropping to a squat to chat with you as you soldered metal, heedless of the sparks, or else bringing scones from the mess to refresh you and, again, wiping your face often with his fancy scarves despite your protests that it was futile.

And at night, on the second day, you made good on yours and Donald’s word and brought him to dinner. It was a quiet walk from the base to the end of the long main road, right to the outskirts of the village, where your family’s unassuming little thatched cottage nestled amongst mama’s victory garden, daddy’s aeroplane hanger and repair shop loomed ugly and dark behind.

The look on Buck’s face when you met him outside the base’s gate at seven in the evening in a dress and heels was worth capturing. But you hadn’t a camera with you and it wasn’t like you were liable to forget. His pure look of awe and appreciation for your cleaned up and girlish state was nearly comic if it weren’t so flattering.

“Darlin-“ he began in a rush but did not finish, only taking you lightly by the fingertips and spinning you slowly, his eyes wide like he was seeing a marvel, which, maybe he was, -your womanly form finally liberated from puffy uniforms and ugly coveralls. Wholesome as your intentions were for the evening, and indeed for him in general, it was some relief and delight to know he was capable of getting hot under the collar. His mama’s well drilled manners soon caught up to his unbridled appreciation and a deluge of charmingly proper compliments rained down on you next until you had to put a stop to his babble by tugging him down the road with the reminder of dinner as incentive.

“You’re sure they won’t mind?” he began his worries again, nervous to meet your parents.

If he’d been like the rest of the boys he’d know just how much mingling was already common. It wasn’t remotely odd to bring him home, not when you lived so near. “Don’t be silly, they’ve been begging to meet you and Donald has plans of torturing you with his plane models and Papa wants to show you his shop and mama thinks you're much too skinny, I’m sure she’s gone to the black market to grab something to fatten you-“

“-how’s she know that?” he interrupted in shock.

“Oh,” you flushed, realizing your misstep, “I’ve talked of you. And she recognized you, she and Violet are thick as thieves and -it’s not like you’re unremarkable. A physical description is rather easy to give when you, well, when you look like…you.”

“What do I look like?” he cried out but his cheeks were smiling despite his outrage, “Malnourished?”

“Like a lanky cherub.” you refuted and were pleased that the late summer sun was still bright enough at this long hour to show his pretty blush.

“A cherub.” he repeated in disbelief.

“Yes.” you were firm, both in tone and the press of your hand in the crook of his offered elbow, “And as we’ve been commended to entertain angels unaware, how much more when we are certain of one?”

“Oh shut up.” he begged you and you two staggered into each other as you laughed your hearts out. It felt good to laugh, for the both of you, and a little too foreign, as well. It left a hollow melancholy in its wake that was soothed by the near and swaying proximity of each other’s body.

“They’ll be glad to have you at the table.” you dared go on, feeling you should prepare him, should the subject arise, “I’ve a brother, you see, an older brother. Rafe, he was stationed in Burma. We’ve not heard of him in over two years. There’s an empty seat at our table, it takes a certain sort of soul to fill it without it feeling like a sacrilege. But you fit the bill nicely, I think.”

“Burma.” he repeated with all the gravity of a man who understood, who knew the ache of almost hoping a dear brother, a beloved son, was dead rather than enduring the slow hell of a Japanese internment camp. How awful to almost wish for a decisive end for one so loved. “No word at all?”

“None.”

“I’m terribly sorry.”

“Thank you.” you whispered, “And thanks for making it back, yourself.” you squeezed his arm jovially and felt his other hand fall atop yours there in the crook of his elbow and a sweetness filled you at the gesture, such as you’d never known before. It was peaceful and lovely and your little village suddenly looked as pretty and idyllic again as it was always supposed to, the routine route home was seen through his eyes, the eyes of a homesick boy with a soft girl on his arm, bound to meet her parents and inspect Donald’s plane models.

Your mother and father loved him, little surprise there, he was a darling and homesick and yours was a happy home, humble and wounded though it may be. Your mother was obnoxious in her delight the moment father took him out back to see where your expertise for welding first began, the little aerodrome, no longer fitted with pleasure craft but now fitted to scrap the more useless casualties. Mother pestered you as you helped clear the table, asking after him and whatever this thing was between you. When you assured her it was only dinner to fill that chair and some unfathomable knowledge that had grown each time you stood before his propeller and waved him off to death, she knew it for what it is.

War and the urgency of living that goes with it, shrinks long emotions into fast passion and steady hearts into foolish daring. Neither of you were the sort to tumble into the passing vogue passions that had seized hold of your friends and comrades. Yours was a quieter path. Even so, after the fourth evening of dinner rations and quiet fireside chatter and the patter of late summer rain on the roof, there was a kiss as he walked you back to base, his jacket over your shoulders, his shirt clinging to him and the sweetest intent etched on his misted features as his lips descended to yours.

“Thank you,” he had said so passionately yet so subdued, a wall of wisteria at your back and his honey blonde hair dripping into his eyes, “I’ve needed this bad.”

His words suggested the family dinners, his scorching lips suggested the molded flesh of your body in his large palms.

“So you’ve wanted this?” your breathed mixed, a hazy little cloud between you in the damp evening air, your little alcove of shelter from the rain under old Mosley’s shed was like another little world entirely, fauna filled and peaceful, even the ever present drone of machinery was drowned out by the downpour.

Your mother had been right, you should've waited longer till the clouds passed but you had both cited curfew -and maybe even subconsciously sought just such a predicament as the one that had you necking Gale Cleven in a wisteria claimed tool shed.

“I’ve wanted you.” he clarified, firm grip on the base of your neck punctuating his turmoil, his lips met yours again and whatever oath of abstinence he had chosen, it did not seem to include kissing. He was soft and persistent and all consuming, those restless hands migrating in an ever mapping caress, making every part of you thrum with butterflies. “Wanted you for a long while.” he spoke into your lips, “I think you’re just great.” And there was happiness then, untinged with anything temporal beyond the feel of warm flesh beneath cold, rain soaked cloth and lips that tasted of honeyed biscuits.

It was impossible to maintain the stoic propriety of behavior you’d once managed before, on base, after that. You knew now how he sounded when he moaned into your mouth and he his stare alone could make you blush, you had spoken to his mother on the phone and he had seen your childhood bedroom. He learned once, laying amongst sea grass on the beach during a cloudy Sunday, the silky moist feel of you beneath your swimsuit, his long, bashful fingers that were ever so fond of petting anything and everything, finally finding a place that responded to his swipes with jolts and gasps and sighs and pleasure. You peaked three times on that sand dune, Buck none the wiser as he had nothing to compare your little deaths to, you kept a firm grip on his forearm and told him he was doing marvelous and that’s all it took for him to be persistent. Persistent beyond what you imagined any other man could be due to cramp. He was getting freckles from so much sunshine, but it was well, the rains would be here soon come autumn.

These happy days had you risking your life to pause your work and watch his pretty form swagger across the asphalt to his next destination and he, ever so right and proper and by the book, became devil enough to lie in wait for you and catch you by the waist when you least suspected it and drag you into some abandoned corner.

Only to kiss you.

To kiss and to ask after your day, as if your evening was not to be spent sat beside him at table or the movies, lying on a picnic blanket with him near or in the back of a jeep on top of Mayberry Rise, the tallest point around where the stars ran into the sea on the horizon.

One of the first days of September, you made good on your promise to Harry and drove with him to muck about Oxford for a day and see the college, the library, too. It was a long ride and as you were at the wheel, Harry was gem enough to allow Gale along, too, and by the end of it, driving back late and in a rush before the headlights would be needed, you were quoting favorite literary passages to each other. As if you were all students, not misplaced youths in the business of killing.

You said as much and in the burgeoning gloom Gale’s rich voice asked if you knew any Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

“Not Wordsworth!” Harry clarified.

“No, I don’t.” You admitted, for all your chiding today of their not being cultured enough, you didn’t know your American writers as you should.

“He’s got a poem for that.” Gale said, “For what you said. Or at least, it makes me think of today -that verse, ‘member Crosby?- the one it goes:

-I remember the gleams and glooms that dart across the school-boy's brain; The song and the silence in the heart, That in part are prophecies, and in part, Are longings wild and vain. And the voice of that fitful song, Sings on, and is never still: "A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."

The deafening silence for the rest of the car ride was filled with truth and your own heart was heavy when you bid them both goodnight that evening, headed to your seperate billets. You paused in you departure to turn back once more at the door and holler to Buck in the chilled September air, “That poem, is there more of it?”

“Lots more.” he’d spun round on his heel, pleasantly surprised at your inquiry.

“What’s it called?” you intended to search it out, though it was doubtful that a copy would be found near this remote place.

“How about I write it out for ya?” he suggested as if thinking the same.

“You’ve got a whole damn poem memorized?” you balked, incredulity warring with amusement that you should’ve guessed he’d be the sort.

“I-I-I might.” he stuttered before laughing.

“Then please do.” you grinned and threw him a kiss across the distance which he jumped up and caught from the air in a grand show of dedication. “Goodnight, cherub.” you wished him, “Sleep tight.” He had a mission in the morning, a daylight one.

“Goodnight old Bean.” He teased your accent and the door swung shut behind you blocking out the cold and the retreating sound of his footsteps.

If you’d have known that was the last time you’d hear them you’d have stayed an age out in the cold night listening to him go, memorizing the cadence of his gait, the sway of his shoulders disappearing into the twilight, the turn of his head as he’d throw a glance back at you, sweet and handsome and cheerful despite his ominous itinerary.

If you’d have only known.

It wasn’t like last time, like Africa. There had been no loss of contact. Dorace had heard every awful minute until the clock ran out. They’d been shredded, their precious ship turned into a raging inferno and Major Cleven’s gritted and garbled transmissions left only one hope that some at least had jumped out. Jumped out only to land in Nazi occupied Europe, it was a faint mercy to cling to.

The empty chair sat next to you again at the table and mocked you all. Mocked your hope and your resilience to dare love again. How foolish to bring home a man who belonged to a group they were calling “Bloody”, and not as a curse but an epithet.

The losses had been staggering all summer and now in September they hit close. You were confident that Crosby and Egan were every bit as dismal inside as you felt, Egan’s warm hand had clasped your shoulder like you were a fellow officer and told you he was sorry. You took the condolences and gave them back, a stupid little exchange that only highlighted how unspeakable some pain is.

Three weeks later, Egan’s plane didn’t come back either.

In your more fanciful moments you allowed yourself to imagine Egan and Cleven alive, somewhat whole and reunited. You could almost hear Cleven’s joking welcome, “What took you so long, Bucky?”

You’d indulged these fancies for Rafe, too, until years of silence suggested the worst.

However, this time, well into October and with an entirely new set of planes under your care, word came at last through the Red Cross, and the truth was exactly as you’d dreamed. There was only the paltriest letter back to command but it said they were well, they were alive, together indeed and being moved to the Polish border. Away from their own comrades' bombs. It was more than most ever got, and your family celebrated the news with the gratitude it deserved.

As October turned to November and your gloved fingertips froze as you worked, every sharp needle of chill reminded you of him, how much more awful it must be that far north, snow piled deep and muck everywhere and lice covered blankets and illness left untreated. As the holidays hurtled nearer, days of peace and goodwill you had planned to be spent with him, you were consumed by the dread of losing him to the elements since war had proven too clement. At night you lay abed and reread the one bit of handwriting you had from him, that damned poem he had written out, left under your door in the early dawn that had taken him from you.

My lost youth. That was the title of the thing. It cut like glass every time you read it, but Buck had touched that paper and looped those letters and dotted those i’s and it was precious to you. It became a prayer of sorts.

“There are things of which I may not speak;

There are dreams that cannot die;

There are thoughts that make the strong heart weak,

And bring a pallor into the cheek,

And a mist before the eye.

And the words of that fatal song

Come over me like a chill:—

“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,

And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”

Strange to me now are the forms I meet

When I visit the dear old town;

But the native air is pure and sweet,

And the trees that o’ershadow each well-known street,

As they balance up and down,

Are singing the beautiful song,

Are sighing and whispering still:—

“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,

And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”

Then, in January, as if prayers got heard, the most unexpected happened.

Major Gale Cleven, what was left of him after cold, starvation, murder and a treck across Europe, had returned. Things like this, seeing your lost beloved ride up to your workplace in the shotgun seat of a jeep, was the stuff of movies, hopeful propaganda or a woman’s mind that had finally cracked. You just stood there, welding helmet in hand, frozen rain spitting down at you, watching him jump out, watching Harry tear down from the observation tower to embrace him.

Dully, you could hear behind you Segreant Lemmons kind cheer of “so it was true, he got away from the bastards!” and a congratulatory thump between your shoulder blades. It was a moment of truth, to realize how far your faith had dwindled when the very answer to your prayers stood steaming with life in the cold air and yet you still could not accept it as reality.

“Baby.” his hands were warm compared to your damp cheeks and the span of them, so familiar and large, cupping your jaw with the calloused thumbs swiping at your temples, that was reminiscent of August and of happier days. Yet still, you had dreamed of him doing this, dreamed of a million different embraces and each time you woke up. “Baby, I’m back, I came to ya.” his voice was wrecked, from disuse and illness and whatever misery that had subjected him to. That, that was real enough, the rattling cough more so, you’d imagined his suffering in your worst nightmares too, this was something you could believe.

Familiar flesh was gaunt under your touch, gray cheeks where once there’d been freckles and the sinful pout of his once ruby red mouth was a dull violet, as if the vitality had been leached out of him. “What’d they do to my cherub?” you mourned, worst nightmares and wildest hopes blending into this one moment.

“Don’t cry, don’t cry f’me, I’m back. I came back.” he cooed to you, rough and sad himself, and your face was buried again in the placard of his coat, a great woolen overcoat this time, no fleece or any vestige of the swanky finery that got the flyboys ribbed for being soft, fancy, spoiled.

Nothing soft about these men, nothing gentle about their lot, nothing glamorous about being hurled down from the skies in a ball of fire.

“We kept praying for you.” you realized, it seemed important to tell him that however hopeless you all had felt, you’d gone through the motions anyway.

That was faith, wasn’t it? The hope of things not seen?

“I felt ‘em.” he said. “How else you think I managed it?”

It. -had managed it, that tiny word represented a host of terrors and miseries and unforgettable incidents that ricocheted in his brain like the lead fired into his boys head’s when they couldn’t manage a forced march, barefoot and underfed, in the snow.

Christmas had passed but January was not so very advanced, that evening your family turned back the clock and it was a matter of guessing as to who was celebrated more, baby Jesus or Buck Cleven. The two seemed intertwined at this point and in the warm glow of gas lamps and rationed toddy, with Buck’s hollow cheeks beginning to bloom and his dull eyes starting to animate, some part of you finally understood why so many felt worshipful on the holiday. The shit war rations felt like a feast, mama’s canned vegetables being the freshest thing he’d eaten in ages and with him sat at table again, empty chair filled, his hand creeping into your lap to lace with your own, there was peace.

Even the airforce, hard driving and high demanding though it was, took one look at his battered condition and admitted a period of conveyance was due. It wouldn’t do to send up a shoddy pilot, lose another plane, yet another crew or a hero of the hundredth. It’s not every day one of your squadron leaders escapes a POW camp and marches over occupied Europe and fordes the Channel to get back home.

A month was set aside. And you took as many weekday passes as you could during that month, happier than anything that he had been permitted to stay in town, to lodge with one of the locals. Rafe’s room was now occupied by him and mama’s broth was poured down Gale’s throat twice daily and his days kept busy with paperwork and Donald’s math problems. The ticking clock, the passing days, like the evil crocodile gobbling up time, was politely and britishly ignored in favor of enjoying what was. You no longer slept with the tear stained and crumpled poem clasped to your throat but his head lay there often enough instead. The thump of your heart helping him sleep, because exhausted and sick as he was, sleep and solitude were not comforts.

He was wracked with guilt for leaving Egan and his men behind, it had been every man for himself during that brutal forced march, he knew that and yet he’d left a friend behind. Buck waited for news of Egan like you’d waited for news of him. Nameless and senseless guilt ruining much of his own success and peace.

“He’d have expected nothing less of you.” you had taken to reminding him, “He’d be angry if you hadn’t taken the opportunity like you did.”

“I know.” he agreed miserably.

You admitted to him then, the horrid guilt of feeling that somehow, some missed defect or some lousy flaw had been the reason he’d been downed. Your work somehow not sufficient to keep him in the skies. When you’d admitted as much, Sergeant Lemmons had looked at you with all the censure such moronic introspection deserved: “Cleven got bombed to hell. He expected it, daytime raid and all. Blame the Nazis.”

“Blame the Nazis.” you suggested now to Gale as he lay sprawled in your arms, sweaty and feverish but his color was back and he looked pretty as anything so alive and near.

He looked ready to dare something, his face hovering nearer yours and the heavy weight of his limbs suddenly feeling full of intent but then his sparkling eye caught sight of something in the doorway and his lips quirked and his body shifted away.

“Whatcha doin’ sulkin’ out there Donny?” he addressed your brother and sure enough the little scamp emerged from the shadow of the doorway and joined you two on the bed, comic book clutched in his hands. They had a routine, apparently, Papa was no longer the chosen one for bedtime stories. It made you want to wince in anticipation for when Buck would move back to base and things would become full of dread again.

That day came sooner than you’d counted on. A month is not so very long, after all, and it was filled with so much work and business, stolen moments at home hardly being the norm.

“It’s an easy mission.” he’d said at dinner, as if arguing the point to you all. You knew he was trying to convince himself more than anything and so you all let him specify just how easy, how routine, how utterly unworrying tomorrow's flight would -should- be.

If it’s hard to get back into the saddle after being bucked off, how much worse to climb back into a plane after being tossed from the skies.

That evening he lounged on your bed instead of Rafe’s, the house emptied as your mother and father took Donny to the movies, the appeal of a new film finally showing cited as being too alluring to resist. He was lost in his thoughts, watching you go about your little evening routines that you tried to maintain when at home. It was domestic and cozy, warm where the world outside was cold and then there was Buck, golden as anything in the low lamp light, utterly unaware of the figure he cut lying on his side.

“I’ve missed it.” he told you, “Flying, I’ve missed it.”

“Of course you have. You were born for it.” you murmured.

“Ya know,” he reflected, “I signed up for the Air Force before it all got hot, before Pearl Harbor. I was gonna fly no matter what. I remember grittin’ my teeth durin’ training and tellin’ myself it would all be worth it. Just hang in there and it would pay off. I just felt something important would need me. Hell, guess I got more than I ever bargained for, didn’t I?”

“I guess you did.” you agreed.

“I couldn’t do this if I didn’t believe in it.” He insisted and you knew he was talking to himself again, until his face turned towards yours and the softest look of fondness crossed features turning them almost pained when he said next, “I couldn’t do it, get back up there, if it weren’t for love. The rightness of it but -love, for my boys, my family. For you.”

“I know, and we’re terribly lucky to have your devotion. -And…and I love you, too.” you vowed earnestly, then giggled at the absurdity of this being the first time to admit it.

“I’d had my suspicions.” he grinned back, some of that old cockiness returning along with his vigor as he snagged your wrist and pulled you down beside him.

“Do you know why my parents have gone?” you asked him pointedly, turning on your side to face him.

“To see a movie.” His face was so innocently perplexed you almost lost control of yourself and ruined the game right then with something terribly forward.

“My parents aren’t in the habit of seeing movies.” you corrected him soberly.

“No?”

“No.”

“So where’d they go?” Buck asked.

“Oh they’re at the movies.” you smirked, “But they’ve gone for us.”

Gale’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, if not of you then of his own naïveté. “For us.” he repeated and his voice had dropped an octave in the interim.

“Yes. Something about wanting us to have a goodbye.” you quoted.

“I’m not dying tomorrow.” he pointed his finger firmly in your face and it made you smile to see him so fiesty again.

“No,” you agreed with his prophecy, “but I wanted to give you some incentive to hurry back.”

“Oh?” those lips of his puckered again in confusion before his smarts caught up with him and the pink corner tugged up in mischief, “Ooooh.” he repeated, suddenly very close, his energy, his body, his heart, inches from being one with you. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, oh yes.” you confirmed, slotting your lips against his gently only to be met with eager, desperate need in his own kisses.

Your childhood bed was narrow and the counterpane below you familiar and dear, stitched by your mother in colors you’d once wished to update upon entering maturity. Now, laid out in perfect security and familiarity, you watched Buck Cleven dangle a toe off the abyss before diving in, pausing to caress the blanket beside your hip, smiling to himself.

“What?” you were breathless to know every thought in that dear head.

“My mama made me one, looks lots like this.” his eyes were watery soft yet his smile was glad, his hips narrow and sharp in the cradle of your own, stark hipbones not yet padded by your mother’s cooking pressed you down into the bedding, grounded and right. “You’ve made me real at home here.” he whispered and it pleased you ever so much. “Do I dare take this last liberty?” he muttered as if to himself, even as those blue orbs bore into your own, his fingers fiddling with the hem of your skirt and you ached from need long deferred and the weight of remedy lying heavy between your thighs.

“It’s no liberty,” you whispered, catching his dog tags and bringing his face to yours, the size of the man so very apparent now he was hovering above you, “it’s yours.” you watched his pupils blow out at the statement, his ragged breath fanned minty across your face, even angels wield swords. “I’m yours.”

“And I’m yours.” he concluded.

With that exchange of truths something snapped between you, like a ribbon cut, gone was the hesitant cordiality and deference that had marked your courtship. Here now was fierce possession and the gloated satisfaction of those who possess something cherished and are no longer kept from partaking of it, buckles and garters snapped in the quiet room and the rustle of sheets and shirts wafting to the floor made your breaths hitch with anticipation. Precious flesh came into touch with every brush and it was enough for many minutes merely to cling and grasp, imprinting desire into the back and the arms and the throat of each other, like an armor of love against the decay of death.

“Yours, yours.” you swore as his finger played you once more, his breathing hard and rough in your ear, harsh commands for you to say it again and again, reminding you he was fearsome when he wanted to be.

“Don’t look,” he begged when you realized through a haze of joy what he was about, pressing in with all the finesse of a cricket bat knocking at the wicket, hoarse and doe eyed above you, there was only the whine, “please, darlin’ don’t look, just, my eyes, please.”

It was a fumbling entry but nature and pleasure prevailed, as it had since the first couple. And dear boy that he was, he knew you had indulged in a leg up, one or two at least, before he came along but still, he could not bear it for you to see more, not this time. He wanted it just to be the kisses and the sight of your precious face contorting at the fullness of your belly and the force of his hunger for you. All the rest were vulgar details left somewhere under your skirts, and, unbeknownst to him, reflected in your childhood mirror situated on the wall behind his plump arse.

“Oh god.” he had choked out, winded and in awe as his body shook at the feel of you accepting him deep, “You’re a slice of heaven, heaven that’s-that’s what you fee- oh god, oh god.”

He had giggled at the absurdity of this dance and then broke off with a moan that made you giggle in turn and back and forth it went as his body jerked into yours as if he’d no control over it, led quite literally by the part of himself buried inside you. He knew it was foal-like and a poor showing as a lover and he also knew you didn’t care a bit, your eyes wide at the size of the intrusion and captivated by the sight of his newly enlightened face.

“You alright?” he asked urgently, as a sudden and familiar feeling took over his body. The feeling of his brakes giving out, his flaps malfunctioning, the hydraulics failing -it took over him, his spine tingling and his vision beginning to blur and only your punched out gasps and sweet smile wavering on his horizon as the frantic, masculine, natural need to drive in deep enough to puncture your heart seized him and propelled him in you, against you, above you with such force you forgot to breath. For all Egan’s teasing of Buck’s hatred for athletics, the man wasn’t shabby when it came down to it, even after months of internment, or maybe due to that stolen time, his life force seemed to pour out in a torrent and your belly buzzed at the sweet abuse.

“I’m perfect.” you managed at some point, “You’re perfect, so perfect.”

He shuddered at the praise and as if terror struck him then, he was suddenly pulling away and moaning “I should- I shouldn’t -I’m gonna, darlin, I’m gonna lose it-“ and young and sweet and clumsy as anything he rutted against your slick frantically, mouth pressed to yours until the hot gush of his satisfaction spilled out and added to the mind fuzzing feel of him sliding against your little pearl.

You encouraged his shaky limbs to collapse on you, the lanky frame of him a sweet weight, sweaty cheek pressed to your breast, you could feel the dopey curve of his smile against your plump flesh. His hair curled at the nape from the sweat of his exertions, all winter chill forgotten in this bed. War and missions and bombs, too. You petted each other for a while before he raised his head and, gazing at you adoringly, he murmured “thank you.” his nose nudging yours and the steadiest of kisses lingering in the tingly aftermath.

“Darlin?” he broached the subject a while later, cheek again pressed to your chest and his fingers sliding in a hypnotic caress over your thigh.

“Yeah, Buck?”

“Later,” he prefaced, tentative and raw, “when -when the war’s over, and when, well, when I can make my own promises…”

Your heart hammered beneath his ear and you squeezed your legs around him, as if to shore him up enough to say what you wanted him to say so very badly. “Yes?”

“Would you marry me then?” he begged and somehow you knew this, what you had just indulged in, was never going to happen without that hope for him.

Perhaps that’s why it felt so strong, like a communion of souls more than anything else. “I’ve half a mind to make you wait and get my answer when you come back tomorrow.” you teased and his head reared up with a dangerous glint in his eye.

“Don’t you dare.” he warned, grin breaking out despite himself.

The sound of the front latch grating on the door startled you both but he pressed you down when you went to scamper and clothe yourself. “The door’s closed anyway,” he argued in a whisper but you knew he felt as nervous as you at being caught, if not more so, yet still he was a stubborn one. His hand was firm and large clasping your cheek, expression arch and expectant. “Promise you’ll be a good little girl and say yes when I do ask.”

You laughed at his gall, to make you wait, to make you promise when he wasn’t even proposing. But then again -you had said you were his, and he was yours. It had already been done. Sometimes life was as simple as Gale Cleven made it out to be.

“I promise.” you whispered happily, bringing him back down to your embrace and willing away thoughts of tomorrow and flagging him out to danger.

One day he’d come back for good. One you could make promises again. Until then, there was hope.

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed. Feedback is a writers lifeblood, I’d adore hearing your thoughts. 💋

#masters of the air #mota #masters of the air fanfiction #gosh is that a first tag? i don’t think so I know I’ve seen schemes at the very least on here #mota fanfic #austin butler #gale cleven #john egan #Major Egan #Major Cleven #buck cleven #Gale Cleven fanfiction #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler x reader #austin butler x you #austin butler x y/n #austin butler fluff #Austin Butler imagine #Austin butler smut #callum Turner fanfiction #callum turner #harry crosby #anthony boyle #hbo war #band of brothers #the pacific

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Happy Couple 6

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

I make no promise and am just following a whim.

Summary: Your father makes a deal to marry you to his top capo. (mob au)

Warnings: dark elements such a mob business and intimidation, spanking, threats. More to be added as they become relevant. You know what I write typically so you know what to expect.

Thank you all for the encouragement and I hope you enjoy.❤️

"Get out, sweetheart," Bucky rests his hand on the car door, his other on his belt.

"You can't," you whine, "please…"

"Baby, I thought you understood–"

"Oh my god," your eyes are bleary as tears prick, "no, please," you cling to the seat as he grabs your other arm, his men swarming behind him in endless activity, "I can't– my father–"

"Get out of this car right now, princess, or I'll be happy to help you out."

"No," you snarl as your disbelieving grief spikes to hot fury, "no! You're despicable! A monster–"

"Your puppy dog face and tantrums aren't going to work on me," he huffs and bends, grabbing you by the back of your neck and dragging you out of the car, "you better clean up your act fast."

You stumble in your heels and fall against him. You pull your hands away from his chest and hit hit, "no! I won't behave! I won't! You lied to me– aah!"

You squeal as he lifts you suddenly, hauling you over his shoulder as you squirm and kick. Cool air flows up your skirt and tickles across your bare ass. You whimper and claw at the back of Bucky’s jacket.

"I gave you a chance to be good," he curls an arm around your legs and his other hand crawls higher, feeling along your smooth skin, "don't worry, I got a thing for taming the stubborn ones."

"Ew, get– let me go!"

"Where you gonna go, princess?" He climbs the steps to the front door, a man standing watch outside, "all your daddy's men who didn't flip got the same treatment he did."

"But–" you tug at the bottom of his jacket futilely, "why– what about me?"

He crosses the entryway and climbs the left arm of the double stairway. You jostle with his motion, your head pooling and pulsing with the rush of blood.

"I told you already. You're mine and I'll take care of you," he slaps your ass as your skirt rumbles above, offering a generous view of everything, "one way or the other."

He takes you past your bedroom and into the master, your father's room. He carries you to the bed and throws you down. You bounce and bite your tongue as you tug your skirt down to hide your naked pelvis.

"So, I'm gonna ask you one last time and I want you to think about it because this isn't something I usually ask. Let alone twice. Do we do this the hard way," he shuts the door, keeping his hand on the handle as he turns back to glance at you, "or the…harder way?"

You push yourself to the edge of the bed and pout, "Bucky, please, I'm so scared–"

"Ah, don't you try that with me," he wags his finger at you as he comes near, "I've seen it before, remember? 'Oh, daddy, please, you don't understand. I need this purse! Please can't I have your credit card?'" He mimics in an exaggerated cadence, "I got no problem with you calling me daddy but you won't play me like him," he grabs your chin and forces your head up, "got it?"

You push your bottom lip out and bat your lashes, "Bucky…"

"Shhh," he hushes you as he drags his thumb up to your lower lip, "you're only making me harder."

He pokes his thumb into your mouth and hums. He pushes down on your tongue as you stare up at him. He only wanted to get you out of the house so he could tear apart your life. It's all a trick.

You bite down on his knuckle and he yowls as he rips his hand away from you. He shakes his fingers and curses as you stand and clack on your heels around him. You hurry as fast as you can for the door but your Louboutins make each step a task.

He catches you around the waist and lifts you off your feet. He flings you around and you land once more on the bed, nearly bouncing back off. You're left dizzy by the motion and sit up quivering to face him.

"Oh, princess, you have no idea what you're getting yourself into," he unbuckles his belt and pulls it free of his pants. He folds it and snaps it between his hands, "show me that precious little ass and I'll try not to make it bleed."

"No!" You lean back on your elbows and kick out, your shoe jabbing his side. You roll over and fall off the bed, kicking free of your clunky heels.

He coughs and snarls, "you little– you're asking for it."

You turn on your knees and grab your stiletto, "leave me alone!"

You whip the shoe at him and he barely blocks it as it nearly pings off his head, "hey!" He points at you again, "settle down!"

"No, I'm not listening to you! You're just a liar!" You get to your feet, your other heel in hand, "I'm not your princess."

"You're a spoiled fucking brat," he slaps the belt against his hand as he closes in.

"No, you!" You swing and catches the heel of the shoe before it can meet his chest. He snaps off the red stiletto and you cry out, "hey! That's designer!" You swing again with the amputated sole, "how–" you hit his hand, "dare–" you hit his forearm, –you!"

He sweeps your strike away and throws out the belt like a lasso, tugging it down as it hits your head, and tightens it to the buckle. You gasp and grab the leather as it draws your fingers tight to your neck. He jerks you forward. You stumble and flail out as you collide with him.

He yanks on the belt and forces your head up. You whimper and your fingers tingle numbly as the leather digs into your neck. He smirks and snarls down at you, "this is going to be fun, baby. You just made damn sure of that."

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barners #bucky barnes x reader #drabble #series #the happy couple #mob au #au #mcu #marvel #avengers #dark drabble #dark!drabble #captain america #winter soldier

[vulpisnocturna]

id like to req a happy and horny itachi !!! HATE SEEING HIM SAD

Anon, I present you… Horny Itachi with this. He happy too. But mainly horny lol

NSFW -Minors do not interact

Warnings: Itachi is y/n’s University Professor (few years age gap, both 22+), afab reader, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal sex, creampie, praise kink, dirty talk, pleasure dom Itachi

Word count: 1k

If it was so wrong, why did it feel so good? It wasn’t as though you’d been explicitly told that fucking your University Professor was wrong, but it was quite a given. He’d helped you with your thesis at the end of your three year English Literature course, and you both hadn’t been able to deny the tension between you two. In every damn meeting, his dark eyes had been roving down your body, intense and utterly beautiful. You, on the other hand, had had a crush on him since the first moment you’d first seen him. He was only a few years older than you, but he was still your Professor. He still taught you as you studied for your Master’s degree, but he taught you other things, too. Like how to cum more times than you’d imagined would be possible. You were in a relationship now, a secret until you graduated, and every chance to see each other quickly turned into him having his head between your legs. The man seemed to love doing it, and he seemed to enjoy how fiercely you had to fight to keep quiet.

You moaned, your hand on your mouth muffling the desperate sounds you were making as his tongue licked your clit and his damned long fingers curled inside you.

‘Doing so well for me’ he murmured, massaging your thighs and ass and blowing cold air on your clit.

‘I-tachi’ you stuttered through your palm, legs quivering.

‘Shhh. You are so loud. Do you want everyone in the building to know I’m fucking you on my desk?’ he asked, and you couldn’t see him from that position, but you just knew he had a smirk on his lips at that comment. And God did it do just what he’d hoped. Your walls tightened around his fingers, and he hummed, sucking on your clit and making your heels push on his back as you came. You bit down on your palm, rocking your hips against his face, riding it.

‘Mhh. Don’t tell me the idea made you come undone. My girl is quite filthy today’ he said, the sound of a zipper catching your ear as you panted. You lifted yourself on your elbows, looking at him, eyes glazed over with pleasure.

‘On my lap. You’d better take it quietly’ he warned, pulling you on his lap. You straddled him, hovering above him, clinging to his shoulders as he pushed his cock against you. You shifted slightly, a shuddering whimper tearing out of you as you felt him slide deeper and deeper, until he was buried to the hilt and you felt him everywhere. He let out a soft groan, pulling on your hair and licking your neck as he gave a jerk of his hips.

‘Perfect. So tight. Always so fucking good for me’ he breathed in your ear, forcibly bouncing you up and down just as you started grinding on him, mewling as quietly as you could at the pounding against your cervix, the melting rubbing against your g-spot and the maddening friction of his pelvis against your clit.

‘Hush, darling. You’re being such a brat. Can you not even follow simple instructions? I told you to take it quietly, and yet, here you are, moaning like my little slut’ he crooned in your ear, almost sounding pleased that he could get you so worked up. And you were. You were trying hard to stay quiet, but every thrust was just too good.

‘Please- Itachi… is so much…’ you moaned, your head against his, needy whimpers escaping you. He turned his head, kissing you harshly, passionately, drowning your sounds with his mouth. You were nearing another orgasm, struggling to breathe or think as he pounded inside you, the slight curvature of his cock hitting your g-spot with every thrust.

‘That’s my good girl. Squirming on my lap. You look so pretty, thoroughly dazed. Can you even think about anything other than my cock?’ he taunted, though you could see through the mind-numbing pleasure that he was also drunk on you. His eyes were bright and molten with lust, his swollen lips parted and his skin flushed of a pale pink. His sounds were mostly sighs of pleasure, barely audible groans and quiet moans, but they were so hot to your ears. So hot that when you clamped around him and he moaned against your ear you could not help but cum around his cock, trembling and clinging onto him for dear life.

‘Fuck… this- this is what I want- day and night. This feeling’ he said, getting rougher as he started moving you as he pleased, slamming into you and covering your mouth as you could not help but moan, your clit throbbing painfully, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

‘Going to leave you to think of me for the rest of your day’ he breathed, yanking down on your shirt collar and sucking harshly on the curve between your neck and your shoulder.

You moaned incoherently, feeling the sloppy, deep thrusts that signalled he was close. So you ravaged his throat as he’d done with you, hoping he’d be thinking about how he’d fucked you in his office, on his lap, as he went about grading papers and planning lectures.

‘Cheeky’ he hissed, gripping the plump flesh of your ass as he stopped moving, warmth gushing inside you as he came with a soft moan.

You stayed like that for a few minutes, him kissing your face and hair, you clinging to his body as you both adjusted your breathing.

‘I’ll see you tonight’ he said, kissing your lips gently, stroking your hair and adjusting it. You nodded, smiling sheepishly as you lifted yourself off of him and gathered your clothes, trying to look as put together as possible after he had taken you whole.

‘See you tonight’ you said with a shy smile.

#naruto #itachi #uchiha itachi #itachi uchiha #itachi uchiha smut #itachi imagines #itachi x reader #itachi x y/n #itachi x you #itachi smut

[redxixi]

♡THE LIBARIAN♡

~` pairings : Toji x f!reader

~` warnings : non-con, heavy breading kink, dirty talk, pregnancy mention, fear kink, petnames, just porn with bad plot, and a bunch of other kinks.

:summary : You were a smart, shy libarian that decided to wear some innapropriate stuff to work and toji saw it.

A/N : so this is some dark shi kinda got carried away with this but here you are you toji hoes. if you wanna get tagged in my next works then just ask. My asks and messages are open. MINORS DNI

it was no secret to anyone that toji was a big man, a very big man. everyone adored him, especially the older women. they praise him for being such a big strong man and that he is "such a revinded gentleman". someone like toji would have never given you, the nerd libarian, attention or even looked your way. that was untill one day you decided to wear a very short skirt with a thong. why? because you were horny. That day you were putting the books back and had to bend over to put a book in the lover section of the bookshelf. you didn't think there would be anyone around seeing that on a friday night the bookstore is usually empty. but it wasn't.

someone had wrapped their strong hands around your mouth and stomach making you unable to move. You thought that the store was getting robbed or someone broke it, you wanted to scream.

"hello ms. libarian what are you doing here late at night huh"

you regognized the voice, toji. you turned your head to the side and it was toji. you were squirming in his grasp, trying to free yourself. what is he doing? he let go of your stomach with his other hands still covering your mouth. with his now free hand he ripped open your button up shirt and took off your bra so fast that you couldn't even protest, the cold night air was making your nipples hard and sensetive. you were horrified. what is he doing, why'd he taken off your clothes, you wanted to scream for help but there wouldn't be anyone to hear your screams. you were trying to claw yourself away from his grasp but he was too strong. he shoved you agaisnt one of the bookshelves, taking his hands off your mouth, took both your hands behind your back and tied them up using a ziptie.

"TOJI what are you doing?! stop oh god it hurts! "

you were sobbing uncontrolablly now.

" what am i doing? im supposed to be asking you that. wearing a thong and short skirt at work? it's like your asking me to take advantage of you"

he saw that?! is this why he's doing this? you can't belive this is happening. from behing you he started to play with your now exposed nipples, tugging them, pulling them, squizing and turning them. you hated the way you liked this, hated how turned on you were getting from this. you weren't supposed to enjoy him taking advantage of you but you were. you were groaning and shaking, trying not to let out a moan.

"Are you enjoying this slut? of course you are. wearing such sinful clothes walking around with them waiting for someone like me to come and breed you hmm. that's what you want right. So im going to give you just that"

he spun you around using brute force and slammed his lips against mine. his tounge soon entered my mouth taking full control over the kiss. his hands were busy taking off your skirt leaving you in the thong you were wearing.

"WAIT no please dont i- i don't wanna-"

"shhh puppies dont talk do they. i can go hard on you and hurt you so you better cooperate with me mkay? from now on call me master

he said smirking at me. you didn't want to call him master or do what he said but...you were afraid he was gonna hurt you. suddenly he pulled down your thong and shoved you against the nearest table. you were laying on the cold hard surface of the table now with both your legs spread open by his hands. he took his phone and snapped a couple pictures off your wet dripping cunt.

"aww is this all for me puppy? dont worry just taking some nice pictures off this cunny mkay. such a good girl all nice and wet ready for my cum right?"

he was taking pictures? why? and why did you enjoy this so much. you were supposed to be crying, screaming something but nothing came out. you wanted to know what he would do to you. after he took the pictures he put his phone away and started to play with you clit, rubbing it, squizing it, pulling it. you wanted to moan so bad but you just held it in and whimpered. he let go of your legs and took of his pants, revealing his cock, it was long, thicc and you wanted it in your mouth.

"such a pretty cunt god can't want to breed you so bad yeah. gonna fuck you nice and hard okay"

he said stroking his cock. he took your legs and pulled them up, your ankles now on his strong shoulders. You could feel the tip of his dick against the entrance if your cunt. You looked at toji and it looked like he was starved animal that has not been fed for months, he was breathing heavy, his hair strands were falling loosely against his forehead and his eyes had a dark red colour to them now. One of his hands were now on your cheeks, he bend over and kissed you, gently, softly, passionatly, an unexpected action from him. suddenly just then he shoved his whole dick inside you without warning, an action that caused you to scream in the kiss. when he broke the kiss he smiled, sadistically, cruelly. he started thrusting in and out of you in an unrelenting pace. the pleasure was building up fast, too fast.

"w..wait please s...sloww downnn pleasee!"

He didn't hear you instead he kept going. One of his hands were now on your tits, pulling at your nipples. You never though you could moan so loud, but here you were, drooling and moaning like you were a bitch in heat.

"dont worry puppy your gonna full of my cum soon okay? gonna fuck you all night long okay?

He said in a tone as if he was talking to a child, and you loved it. the pleasure was welling up fast, his cock was hitting your g-spot over and over again in a unhumanly pace. you mind was slowly slipping, the only thing in your head was him. his cock, his cum, his body, him and only him. you could feel yourself getting close, you knew that once you came your body would be his. And that didn't seem too bad.

"master m..may i..cum please please pretty pleasee"

you cried out hoping he would let you.

"awww is my baby dumb already. is this what you wanted puppy? to be bred like a slut? dont worry im gonna breed you now okay? you will look sooo good swollen with my child. go ahead cum"

with the combination of his sinful words and his cock you let out a scream, cumming harder than you ever did in your whole life. your mind was blank, not able to or wanting to procces anything that the immense pleasure he was giving you.

That led you to were you are now. It had been 4 weeks since the bookstore incident and since then toji made you quit your job. you moved in his appartment, the only job you had was being toji's personal sex slave. when you 2 found out you were pregnant you wanted to cry. you were going to give birth to a child of a man twice your age at only 21. Toji on the other hand was the happiest man on the world, and he wasn't planning on stopping with just one child.

Here you were now 3 and a half weeks pregnant and toji was getting turned on everyday from seeing your baby bump. he was laying on the bed while you were bouncing up and down his huge cock. once you were a smart libarian now you have been reduced to his personal cum dump. And you loved it. You could't wait to have his second or third or even fourth child.

A/N: I dont know how to end shi like this AFAAGAGAAGGA. Here is your toji smut i promised bitchess. Sorrg if i seemed inactive but i was just procrastinating alott. Also THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH FOR ALL THE REBLOGS AND LIKES ILY GUYS.

#toji fushiguro can rail me #toji zenin #toji jjk #toji fushiguro #toji smut #jjk smut #toji x reader #daddy toji #god i would let this man destroy my insides #smut jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen fushiguro

[xzhdjsj]

Accidents Happen

Asirel x Vampire Reader

Biting Asirel. thats it. thats the entire reason i wanted to write this

I've gotta say I'm not the biggest fan of being called a pet but something about Asirel just pulls me in yk??? I think he's very interesting and I loveee the darker themes in his story!

This is gonna be my last post for a whileee:( I feel like absolute shit I hateee being sick and I have a bunch of final exams to study for BUT I'LL BE BACK SOON!!!

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

It was normal for you to leave Asirel’s home without permission, undoubtedly out causing chaos and leaving a trail of blood behind for him to clean. But never has it been this. No hunter has ever been so daring, no, utterly stupid to attack you.

Your body drags through a second floor window of his mansion, regaining your balance momentarily only for legs to give out under you. Your bruised body crashes to the floor, taking with you one of Asirel’s lavish vases. The noise definitely invited attention but you couldn’t care any less.

Time moved slower around you and blurry vision made it harder and harder to interpret your surroundings. You hiss out in pain and attempt to get up but to no avail you stay on laying on the polished floor, defeated as the air gets knocked out of your lungs. Bodies appear from every corner of the hall. There are many faces around you, keeping a safe distance, probably prepared to run if need be. None of them dared to touch you or take even half a step closer.

Perhaps it was an order given to them? Perhaps it was fear? What could a single worn vampire do anyways? Out of desperation, probably a lot. But even in desperation, their blood wasn’t what you craved.

It was hard to focus with limited strength and hard to breathe laying face first onto the floor. The sound of veins and arteries pumping sweet sweet blood around you is almost impossible to ignore. In a hazy state, your already intense senses are heightened and the sound becomes even more intoxicating, filling your ears and your mind.

You almost gave up, almost used the sliver of strength to grab someone and bleed them dry but the thought voided your mind when new set of footsteps could be heard approaching. A familiar scent invaded your senses.

Where was he? Close no doubt, BUT WHERE?

Ahhh there

“What is going on her-“ his voice halts.

You desperately push your body up on your palms to look up at him. You muster the strength to sit up but it feels like you might fall again at any moment.

“Master” you mutter in an entirely unintended drowsy and tired voice. You had meant to tease him but depleted energy made it hard for you to be a brat.

“Back to work. All of you!” his stern voice rings through the halls.

Footsteps scatter around you and Azirel kneels in front of you. Your lips curl into a weary smile as you gaze up at him but his face remains serious, his eyebrows furrowed.

He pulls you closer, one hand supporting your back, the other supporting your legs as he lifts you into his arms like a princess. Air fills your lungs completely but you’re barely conscious to register any of it. You close your eyes, face buried into shoulder, dwelling in his familiar scent, the rhythm of his heart, the peaceful darkness behind your eyelids. It reminds you of that day. The day after you met Asirel. It was the first time in months you had woken up in a comfortable bed. His silken voice calling out your name like a hymn sung by an angel.

“name”

“name”

“name”

“name” a soothing hand brushes the hair from your face.

“Come on wake up” your eyes slowly open. You feel the mattress beneath you, but this isn’t your bed or room.

“Mmm where am I?” you manage to whisper, your hand reaching for his collar desperate to taste him.

“Shhh, you’re home”

“But this isn’t my-”

“No, it’s mine”

He shushes you again. Effortlessly, he maneuvers your body onto his lap, left hand snugly around your waist, right hand holding the back of your head as he aligns your mouth to his neck.

God he smells good.

“Go on, drink”

Fangs pierce his skin causing a low gasp to leave his lips. Absent-mindedly, your hand moves to the back of his neck, running your fingers through his hair softly.

When the warm blood hits your tongue, you almost lose control. Your eyes glow brighter and your breathing increases. You swallow harder and harder, your grip on his hair tightening.

“Hey hey” he grips onto your hair. You gasp and let go of him, blood dripping down the sides of your lips. Red eyes move from the wound on his neck to his eyes. He’s already looking at you.

“The bloodlust in your eyes make you so much more attractive but slow down.” He’s stern with his last few words but his grip on your hair loosens. His hand moves behind him supporting his weight onto the mattress and he turns his head to the side.

You don’t say a word your lips latch onto his neck once more. This time slowly drinking, careful not to take too much, careful not to give into your urges. Occasionally short groans leave his lips, the kind that you want to replay in your head over and over. It almost makes you want to never let go but you know better.

Once you’ve had enough, your mouth detaches from his body. With renewed strength hands move to his chest as you admire the blood dripping from the two distinct marks on his neck. Your body moves closer again licking the wound.

Had enough?” His voice echoes through the silence.

“Thank you” your voice comes out softly.

His hand leaves your waist to wipe the blood from the side of your lip before his lips are on yours. Your eyes flutter shut, savouring the taste of iron against his tongue.

“And sorry” you confess as he pulls away

“No you’re not, we both know you’ll do it again” he says knowingly

“Not for leaving, for your vase. Seemed expensive.”

“Mmm it was, but I can just get another” he smirks. “now tell me how did you manage to exhaust yourself this much?”

Right, of course he’d want to know why you were covered in blood and dirt

“Hunters” you rest your head against his chest, “I killed two but one got away,” you sigh “Their weapons are getting more advanced and there was something in their blood. It was rancid”

“Really? Well it was their stupidity. Most know you belong to me” his hand caresses your back, up and down gently.

“And only fools would believe they can rival you. I will take care of the rest and look into their advancements. Maybe we’ll uncover the secret behind their distasteful blood”

“Hmmmm” your head remains on his chest, eyes closed as the comfort sinks into your body.

“Don’t fall asleep, we need to get you all cleaned up first” he looks down at you

“Will you join me?” You look up, finally able to resume your troublesome nature.

His hand moves to play with your hair before tucking it behind your ears

“Is that what you want?”

You lean into his hand, cheek pressed against his palm

“Yes”

“Then I will” he cupped your face as if you were delicate, and his lips met yours. His arms wrap around you once more, lifting you and heading for the bathroom.

#zsakuva #sakuverse #asmr #asirel #asirel x reader

[princessmisery666]

Best Con Ever

Summary: It’s all fun and games until the truth is revealed.

Warnings/Genres/Troupes: fluff, drinking, silly stuff, Jared being an annoyingly good friend (seriously, he wouldn't shut up!). 

W/C: 2,381.

Characters: Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Alexander Calvert, Richard Richard Speight Jr.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x fem!Reader (you - no descriptions of body type or ethnicity).

Challenge/Bingo: @jacklesversebingo Prompt/Square Filled: Making fun of one another 

Notes: Jensen is a single pringle for this one! 

Betas: @deanwinchesterswitch // all mistakes are mine.

Graphics: dividers - @talesmaniac89 / picture in title card - @lemondropsonice - they were kind enough to grant permission to use when I asked.

Master Lists: Dean Winchester / Main

The special fan event is going so well. The intro includes party games, such as Pin the Wings on the Angel and Bowling with the Devil. The pins have pictures of demons from each season taped to them. There’s also a drinking game with “apple juice” because Jensen and Jared keep insisting “Jack” - Alex - isn’t old enough to drink yet. You’re a little buzzed, but it helps ease your nerves. 

“Ah, you said Supernatural!” Alex exclaims, pointing at Jared, and the audience collectively yells, “DRINK!”

Shots of apple juice that smell suspiciously like whiskey this time get passed around until the four of you have one, and then, as one, you shoot them back.

“Woo,” Jensen yells, sucking his teeth as he turns his back to the audience and looks at you. “Don’t let me fall over.”

“Only if you do the same for me,” you laugh. 

“I got you.” He turns to the audience again but puts his arm around your waist and pulls you into his side. 

Of course, the audience immediately awws and gasps. “Oh shhh, you lot,” Jensen playfully scolds, “I’m just holding her up.”

“Wouldn’t want her falling now, would we?” Jared says. “Unless it's for you. Ba-dum-tss.”

He gets nothing from the band. The drummer shakes his head.

“Oh, come on!” He complains. “That was good!”

This is your first event since joining the show at the end of season eleven, but it is not the first time a potential off-screen romance has been mentioned. You have seen videos of panels where fans have asked the question, and you and Jensen have each been approached by fans on the street. With Jensen’s arm wrapped firmly around you, you are sure you can get through it without making a fool of yourself.

Jensen has been a wonderful source of support from the beginning. You had been nervous about how the fans would react because you replaced the wonderful Megalyn Echikunwoke as Cassie Robinson, Dean’s love interest from way back in season one. The inconsistencies in appearance had been loosely explained, and it was somewhat plausible in the world of Supernatural, but that didn’t bother you so much. Being Dean’s love interest was what worried you the most. The fans are so protective, and rightfully so.

“They’re going to love you,” Jensen had said when you aired your concerns. “Just like I…we do.”

He was right. The reception to the reintroduction of Cassie couldn’t have gone better. The fans loved it and accepted you and Cassie Robinson with open arms. You’d read some comments, heard second-hand from producers, and when the fans started an online petition - for fun - to get you and Jensen to date in real life after seeing behind-the-scenes footage, Jared dubbed himself the President of the “Jensen and Y/N should be a couple IRL” club.

You and Jensen played along with it. It helped ratings, and it wasn’t a chore to have Mr Ackles’ undivided attention at parties and dinners to play up to the rumors. But that's all it is: rumors. The two of you are close, on and off set, but whereas Cassie and Dean are super hot, you and Jensen are lukewarm. Hugging Jensen - though it happens often - unfortunately doesn’t lead to sex like it would with Cassie and Dean.

Richard announces it's time for the fan questions and asks those selected to form an orderly queue behind the microphone. Though the questions have been pre-approved, you get a wave of anxiety as you don’t know what they will be, and you hope this portion of the event goes as well as the rest of the day. A fan asks how your first meeting with the cast went, and you look sheepishly at Jensen. 

He shakes his head and rolls his eyes but sighs in defeat. “Fine, you can tell it.”

“Better yet, reenact it!” Jared suggests. 

Your eyes light up with something akin to glee, and Jensen raises his brow and doesn’t need to ask the question in his eyes, ‘Really?’. You pout, bottom lip sticking out as far as it will go. “Please,” you draw out.

Reluctantly, making a show of it, and very slowly, Jensen gets to his feet, leaning closer to pretend to nip at your protruding lip. 

Jared shakes his arms out as he stands up, “I’ll play Y/N.” 

“The hell you will,” Jensen says, playfully pushing him out of the way. “Y/N will play herself.”

Jared comically falls over his chair to the ground as if Jensen’s push was twice the pressure it had actually been. 

You stand up in front of Jensen and wait for the laughing audience to quiet down. Jared stands straight and holds his microphone close to his mouth. “It was a bright winter morning, not a cloud in the sky,” he narrates in a poor impression of David Attenborough’s voice. “The beautiful and elusive beast, Jensen Ackles, notices a radiant creature across the lot. Slowly, he approaches…”

Jensen shakes his head at the crowd and rolls his whole head along with his eyes but obliges the narrator. He walks the few steps and shakes your hand with way too much enthusiasm. “Hi, I’m Batman. Dean. Ackles. I mean …” he groans, trying to dismiss his embarrassment, then blushes and says, “Hi.”

You laugh again, as does everyone else. Jensen grimaces just as he did on the day. “I’m going to walk into the sun now, sorry.” he strides around you to the end of the stage, and Jared steps up to take his place. 

Jared shakes your hand like a normal person. “Translation, that’s Jensen, for I think I just fell in love with you.” 

Jensen, with his back to the two of you, throws a thumbs-up over his head. “It went exactly like that!” Jensen confirms, nodding and shrugging as he makes his way back to his seat. “And now that we’ve all relived my embarrassment, let's move on.”

The microphone gets passed to the next person, and they ask, “Jared and Jensen are known for their pranks. Have they played any on you, Y/N?” 

“Oh yes!” you answer as Jensen takes his seat beside you and squeezes your knee. “I’m hanging like twenty feet in the air,” you begin.

“That’s like three Jared’s,” Richard adds, pointing to Jared on his left.

“Exactly,” you laugh, spreading your arms and legs out in a star to show the position you were in. “I’m full on Mission Impossible Tom Cruise-ing it, three Jared’s high off the ground, and the camera breaks.” 

The audience reacts with grimaces and chuckles. 

“They tell us it will be like ten minutes, and being the awesome trooper she is,” Jensen continues, flashing you a sweet smile. “She agrees to stay up there while they fix it.”

“Of course, it takes longer than ten minutes, so Jensen and I get bored!” Jared laughs, evilly rubbing his hands together.

“First of all, they decide to rub salt in the wound,” you shake your head, laughing at the memory. “They start doing lunges and star jumps, bragging about how comfortable and free they are.”

Jared and Jensen reenact their exercises, doing over-exaggerated lunges and squats, to laughter and catcalls.

“Stop it,” you say, around almost uncontrollable laughter. “You’ll split your pants.”

“Hey, watch it,” Jensen warns, pointing a finger, “my ass is not that big!” 

“Your ass is just fine,” you smirk, the audience agreeing with whoops and hollers.

“You're not so bad yourself,” Jensen counters, winking.

“Hey, hey,” Richard chides, shouting over the raucous audience. “This is a family show.”

“ANYWAY,” Jared says loudly. “Then we used her as target practice, trying to throw Skittles in her mouth.” 

“Let me tell you, at speed, those things are like bullets.” You explain, “I swear they chipped a tooth!”

“I’ll pay for any dental work,” Jensen confirms with a slight nod. “And to answer the question, Jared and I messed with the camera. We knew she’d get stuck up there.”

You shove his shoulder, and he teeters to one side before purposely overcorrecting himself so he’s lying across your lap. 

“We still need to get him back for that one,” Alex reminds you.

Jensen scoffs, rising to sit up again. “You tried and failed. Give it up.”

You and Alex simultaneously declare, “Never!” 

“Alex and I decided to team up and get them back,” you explain to the audience.

“They tried to get me,” Jensen says, “but Jared caught them, and he told me so it didn’t work. But they managed to get Jared,” Jensen begins laughing, unable to continue the story.

“All Y/N’s idea,” Alex insists, pretending to edge away from Jared.

Jared shakes his head, tongue sitting in the pocket of his cheek while he tries to look disgruntled but can’t hide the smile he tries to contain.

“It was genius,” Jensen manages around huffs of laughter. 

“We got the wardrobe department to take in his shirts and shorten his pants a little each day for a month,” Alex says. “But it only took two weeks before he started complaining about gaining weight and growing taller.”

Jensen’s laughter stops, his demeanor turning completely serious. “I cannot tell you how annoying he was about it!”

“I wasn’t that bad,” Jared protests. 

“Dude, you were bad!” Jensen counters, “You were googling if you could have a growth spurt after thirty. It’s all you talked about for two weeks. It was so annoying!” 

“That’s me, Jared Annoying Padalecki,” he says. Then has a lightbulb moment, or perhaps a whiskey-inspired one, and jumps off the stage. Everyone laughs as they watch him cheekily shove to the front of the question queue, dropping to his knees. 

“Hi, I’m Gen from Texas, and this is for Jensen,” he says in a higher pitched voice than anyone would expect could come out of the giant of a man. “I would like to know what your favorite scene to film was from the last season. And why is it the sex scene with Y/N from episode three?”

Jensen closes his eyes, face scrunched and lips pursed in mock annoyance as he flips Jared off.

“What a great question, Gen,” you chuckle, turning to stare at Jensen. “It was definitely one of my favorite scenes to film.”

“It was a fun day,” Jensen agrees. “Usually, sex scenes are super awkward and embarrassing, but it wasn’t. I mean, who wouldn’t want to spend a day in the back of Baby with all this,” he gestures toward Y/N, “on top of you.”

Jared gets to his feet, using a fan's shoulder to hoist himself up, and then bends to reach the microphone. “Follow-up question,” Jared begins, “this time for Y/N. Are you free for dinner tonight? Asking for a friend.” 

“Oh, for a friend,” you say, leaning to look around Jensen and at Alex. “Well, in that case, I’m free anytime, Mr Calvert.” you wink. 

Jensen leans forward, pointing a warning finger at him, “No!” 

“Urgh, Alex,” Jared groans, using a long leg to step back onto the stage, “you’re such a troublemaker!”

The next fan is given the microphone. “So it’s been twelve seasons; what mementos have you taken from the set?”

“Funny you should mention that,” Jared answers immediately, then sings, “Jensen’s in trouble. He stole the infamous demon Dean's red shirt.” 

Jensen throws his hands up, shaking his head. “I did not! I don't know who did, but it wasn't me.” 

Jared rolls his eyes. “So some ghost took it out of your trailer?” 

“Maybe,” Jensen shrugs. “This is Supernatural.” 

The drummer immediately punctuates his response, the hiss of the snare still echoing as Jared stands up in protest. But the audience is too quick, and they yell, “DRINK!” 

“You lot are a bad influence,” Jensen tells them as you all make your way to the drinks table at the back of the stage.

You hold your microphone down while Richard pours the shots. Leaning closer to Jensen, you ask, “Are you really in trouble because of it?”

Jensen scoffs, “No, of course not. But they need it for a photo shoot, and they want to auction it off for charity. They’ve been on my ass for weeks.”

“Oh.” 

“Oh?” Jensen asks, very much channeling Dean in his expression. “Do you know something about it?” 

You wince, trying to feign innocence, but it's no good. You know you’ve been caught out, and you’ll have to give it back. “I took it,” you confess.

“What? Why?” 

You can’t think of a lie quick enough. So with a nonchalant shrug, that's all for show because you don’t feel it at all, you admit, “I like it. It's a nice shirt to sleep in, and it smells like you.”

“If you want something that smells like me, you can have me!” Jensen blurts out loud enough that the mics lowered at your sides pick it up.

The fans erupt, screaming and shouting. They get to their feet and clap. Alex and Jared talk over each other, but it all becomes white noise as you stare at Jensen, who stares back. 

“Screw it,” he says, and you're the only one who hears it. But everyone sees him take a small step into your space and place a gentle kiss on your lips. He pulls back enough to look at you for any reaction, and when you lightly smile, he slips a hand down your cheek and draws you in closer for a deeper kiss this time. 

The crowd goes wild. Your ears will be ringing for days.

Jensen keeps the kiss PG13, but you go as far as wrapping a hand around the back of his neck. It ends too soon, but you remind yourself that you are being watched. He leans back, smiling happily. “Sorry if that was out of line.”

“The only thing that was out of line was how long it took you to do that.” 

He shrugs one shoulder, tongue sitting behind his teeth. “Sorry.”

Jared tries to get control of the audience, but it doesn’t work. Jensen walks to the edge of the stage and holds up a hand, silencing them with the simple gesture. 

Once it's quiet enough, he smiles, boyish and wide. “Best. Con. Ever.”

Master Lists: Dean Winchester / Main

Tags Info

Tag List: @alexxavicry / @b3autyfuldisast3r / @deanwinchesterswitch / @fandom-princess-forevermore / @foxyjwls007 / @jc-winchester / @justagirlinafandomworld / @katbratsupernaturalwhore / @leigh70 / @letsbys-library / @lyarr24 / @mrswhozeewhatsis / @nancymcl / @shanimallina87 / @stoneyggirl2 / @waywardbaby / @wildbornsiren / @writercole / @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior / @Pank0w / @kmc1989 / @deans-spinster-witch / @spnbaby-67 / @roseblue373

#jacklesversebingo23 #jensen ackles #spn #con fic #fanfic #rpf #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles fluff #jared padalecki #alex calvert #jensen ackles con #convention #supernatural #sam winchester #dean winchester #fluff #cons