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marilynthornhilllover · 29 days

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Just a little bit Colder

Mean!Vanessa shelly x fem!Reader

Warning: smut, bathroom sex, use of vibrator, clitoral play, cunniligus ( literally 2 licks) , enemies to lovers, hate sex, degradation at the finest, slight praise kink, mommy kink, sucking of nipples, choking and slapping kink, smoking of cigarettes, pet names, age gap, slight spanking, hair pulling, mean vanessa, orgasm denial, naive reader etc the list terribly goes on.

You and Mike had been friends for quite some time. The both of you first met eachother at a Cafe that you once worked at, one morning abby his younger sister was having a little tantrum because Mike didn't want to buy her Lemon donuts, being the generous person that you were you offered to purchase them for her out of your pocket money.

Obviously Mike refused, thanking you for the kind gesture but the little girl just wouldn't stop fussing. About one decade or eternity later she left him with no other option than to take up your offer. The both of you exchange numbers and they left the Cafe.

Now that was about two months ago. You never heard back from Mike. Not that you wanted too. It's just a little small conversation would be nice. You brushed it off as nothing and carried on with your life. Mike was not your type to begin with and the both of you were the same age, and you had a thing for older people.

You were at your friends house for her brother birthday party when you heard a notification from your phone. You glanced at the screen to see a pop up message from Mike.

It read : sorry to ask such a big favor of you so late, especially how we don't really know eachother quite well, but guessing by the gesture you made the other day I hope your a kind person. Would you mind watching my little sister tomorrow at 7am, I have a little mission at the station and it's gonna take all day and I don't wanna leave her home unattended.... please?

You sighed gently before pushing your phone back into your pocket. It's not that you didn't want to, or that you had a problem with babysitting his little sister, the poor guy just needs a hand. But there's no way your gonna get up at 7 am in the morning just to watch some dudes sister for the entire day.

You had other things to do and places to be. You tried your best to enjoy the rest of the night but your phone just kept going off, drawing your friends attention to you.

" who's messaging you so much y/n" asked one of your close friend ava. You flashed her a annoyed face before pulling out your phone from your back pocket. Again a pop up message read.

" please, I'll even pay you if you'd like"

You groaned softly before typing out a quick response.

" I'll think about it and message you in the morning, I'm busy right now, just like you I also have a busy life" if it sounded harsh then that's because you intended it to sound harsh. You pushed your friend playfully back into the party mood as the both of you danced your souls away for the rest of the night.

After you got home you undressed and took a quick shower. As you were doing your skincare routine your phone dinged again. You huffed glancing down at what he had to say this time.

" 300$ and I'll add a 50 if I'm late after work, it's your time really and I'd appreciate it" you sighed, at this point you gaved in. Once more you texted a quick reply before entering your room to dry off.

" I'll be there as early as I can *smilie face emoji* ".

The next morning you groaned as the sun light kissed you from behind the curtains. sighing you took a slight glance at your alarm clock.

9: 45 A.M

You practically flew from your bed, your duvet quickly being abandoned on the floor. You checked your phone to see four missed calls from Mike and three pop up messages asking where you were and if your still on. You mutter shit over and over again before dashing into the shower. After getting ready you tried calling Mike but there were zero response.

It's either he turned off his phone or he blocked your number.

You checked your chat to see if he had sent you his location before quickly driving over to his place.

You pulled up in his driveway and parked your car. You fixed your hair and lip gloss before walking up to the door and knocking gently. Your mind wondered off as you tried to come up with excuses to tell Mike as to why you were late, or after all his car wasn't in the driveway so you diverted your mind to ways in which you can try trick a little girl into thinking you weren't a completely bad person for showing up late.

You were snapped out of your trance when the door flew open. You averted your eyes to the person infront of you. Standing infront of you was a very, very good looking blonde hair lady dressed in police clothes. She was a slight dirty blonde, crystal blue eyes and a nice fucking body shape. Her facial expression however spoke for itself.... it wasn't as pleasant as she seem to appear.

" yes?" Her voice was warm, welcoming, yet so cold and bitter as if she was someones old grummy grandfather who already accepted his fate and wanted to go out to this world. Your words got caught in your throat as you took a step back away from her. It's as if all of the air was pushed out of your lungs.

You didn't want to be viewed as some creep so you quickly answered.

" um, i- uh I'm here for abby" you spoke, looking behind her to see the young girl on the sofa with another young girl playing with dolls and stuff animals. You gaze went back to the blonde woman infront of you when she stepped down onto the step below you and closed the door. At this rate she was just centimeters away from your lips.

You could feel her hot breath tickle the hairs on your neck as she loomed over you by perhaps two inches.

" you better explain yourself properly young lady before I arrest you, for trespassing and attempt of kidnap of a minor" she spoke, her hand reaching for her gun slightly. You'd be lying if you said she didn't look hot right now. A slight hair strand blowing in her face, eyebrows stressed together and lips perched together closely.

" trespassing? Fucking kidnap? Who are you judge judy? Look Mike had asked me last night if I could watch Abby for him today, I woke up late and he's not answering his phone, I don't know what hero your try'na play, or who you are but you need to chill, it doesn't suit you" the woman's expression changed by the Slightest with her lip curving into a thin smirk but it didn't soften.

She stepped back up on the door step and pulled out her phone, she dialed some numbers before the Phone began ringing. She eyed you suspiciously before Turning around just as the person picked up.

" hi, yeah mike- no nothings wrong abbys fine. Look there's some girl at your door, claiming" she air quotes the word before sneaking a sheer glance at you before turing back around. " that she's here to babysit Abby" she pauses for a moment while nodding before hanging up. She opens the door and turns her body side ways for you to enter.

Her eyes undressed your body and your choice of clothing as you entered. Just before you could step foot over the line of the door, her hand grapped your stomach and brought you close towards her chest.

" did you forget the occasion or were you originally planning to go to a strip club for some extra cash?" She asked, again you couldn't breathe. She was toxic, like a drug. Her scent was luring. It's like everything about this woman was a trap. She's to good to be true. You removed her hand from your stomach noticing that her hands are vainy. You gulped as you tried your best to suppress the moan that was itching to be realesed from your throat.

You waved at abby and her friend as they made their way inside of Abbys room to continue playing with their dolls. You turned around to look at the woman slowly sipping her coffee as she stared at you intensely. You cringed as you placed both your hands on your hips.

You averted your gaze away from hers, looking around the house you noticed that it wasn't bad. It was quite very modern and slightly fancy, it was small but the coziness of it definitely won over that speculation. You turned back around and to your surprise the blondie was smoking, you sighed as walked up to her. Her eyes immediately locked on yours, so hooded and lingering, filled with what seems to be lust and desire.

" look little girl, if your here to annoy me, just go home, I mean your presence isn't even needed here, abby has me. She surely doesn't need a slut to take care of her i mean come on-" you zoned out, your face showing pure disbelief as you felt utter disrespect. What did she just call you?.... you felt your body shake with rage as your jaw tensed. You were the type of person to have watery eyes when you were angry.

You looked at her badge and saw her name.

" how about you go fuck yourself vanessa, mhm how about that. And who are you to call me a fucking slut? Atleast you've never fucked me. You know what I'll leave and make sure you explain in perfect detail to mike why I left, you little shit" you stormed into the bathroom in a way of trying to calm your nerves.

After some time the door to the bathroom opened and closed. You looked into the mirror only to make eye contact with Vanessa. Before either of you could utter a word to eachother she grabbed your hair from behind forcing you to arch your back as her chest pressed against your back.

You let out a soft whimper looking up at her through the mirror, teary-eyed. Her eyes were dark and sultry as they bore into your soul setting you on fire. She brought her lips close to your ear and her tongue gently licked your earlobe before pulling it into her mouth and sucking on it before her hand that wasn't occupied in your hair travled down your body.

" vanny please-" at this point you could feel as your moral side betray you. your mind went completely fuzzy, your body yearned for her touch, her touch, the touch of the devil herself.

" begging already sweetie, thought you told me to go fuck myself, now you want mommy to fuck you? Is that it?" She asked tugging on your hair harshly, you moaned as your eyes rolled back slightly when her cold finger tips brushed against your clothed cunt.

" so desperate for mommy.... I asked a question slut, do you want me to fuck you" her tone was harsh and demanding as she spanked your ass before rubbing it slightly after you cried out. Making eye contact with her again you noticed she had something in the pocket of her police vest. Something rather bulged and purple colored.

You breath hitched as you groaned in desperation rubbing your thighs together for relief. Upon noticing this vanessa smiled before spanking you again which naturally caused you to reopen your legs, giving her the perfect access needed to get to your cunt. She used her hands to pull down your tank top exposing your breast to her as your nipples erected from the temperature in the room.

You turned your body around swiftly connecting your lips with hers in a heated kiss, as if the bathroom wasn't humid already. Vanessa smirked against your lips as she listened to the whiny sounds you made in attempt to get up onto the counter. She tapped your legs, a way of telling you to jump in which you did before she gently placed you onto the counter.

She pulled away from the kiss leaving a small bridge of saliva from your mouth back to hers. She hitched your skirt up around your abdomen, eyes flicking back up to yours. She watched as you nodded and bit your bottom lip before she proceeded to kneel.

Her tongue ran over the areas of your inner thighs causing you to slightly shiver, your head falling back against the mirror. She smirked before grabbing the hemming of your lace panties - God you really came prepared for her to fuck you. She pulled your panties to the side while still maintaining her mission on leaving only marks for her to see inside of your thighs.

The cold air on your cunt was driving you crazy, you needed her so unbelievably bad, you've had sex with other women but none has come close to making you feel how vanessa is currently making you feel - as if you were floating to a place far, far away where the two of you would be able to fuck forever.

Your fingers intertwined in her golden locks, pulling her face towards your cunt but vanessa was quick, she immediately pulled alway before coming face to face with you. Her eyes were lidded and not a sheer piece of mercy was evident in them. Her gaze dropped to your breast before returning to your eyes.

Again with that Goddam smirk. You gasped as she latched her mouth onto your left nipple, your head fell back as your eyes closed in utter pleasure. You felt as her cold finger tips wonder down your belly, mound then slowly as they crept all the way down to your slit before sandwiching two fingers into your slit as slightly stretched your hole without thrusting her fingers into you.

" oh god- fuck- vanessa please" your moan was soft and breathy as it almost came out as a whisper or a plea. Vanessa's tongue continued to suck horrendously on your small bud as her tongue swirled and poked at it now and then. She chuckled darkly feeling your hips lift in attempt to reach or receive some sort of friction or pleasesure.

" such a good girl mommy" she muttered before releasing your bud with a small ' pop' sound. She gaved you a sinister look before her finger tip began to rub tight , fast circles around your clit. Again your head fell back, grabbing her biceps your back arched off the counter slightly as you lost all control to your moral self, every single ounce of self respect that was left in you.

Vanessa now owned you and your mind, you were now hers.

She could feel as your pussy covered her finger in a new layer of wetness. She watched as your thighs trembled slightly. She gazed up at you but your eyes were already focused on her slender fingers rubbing big circles on your puffy bud. Your skin was drenched in sweat as your chest rised and fell with every breath you took. Feeling your oragsm quickly approaching.

An idea popped into her head and she immediately followed suit. She wanted to see, really how far you'd go for her. She stopped fingering your clit and slid that same finger down to your aching hole before teasing you by circling around it very, very slowly almost not even moving at all.

She chuckled as she felt you clench around nothing.

" Pleasepleaseplease" you whispered as a prayer. She leaned down towards your neck, slowly leaving open mouthed kisses down your drenched skin and your collarbone, causing you to shiver. It's safe to say that you were an absolute raging needy whore for her and only her.

Her hot breath tortured your neck as she spoke up" what do you want my love? Use your words" she husked, her voice deep and husky, slowly draining you of all you sanity. Suddenly you felt as she thrusted two fingers into your cunt, curling her fingers at the right spot as your gummy walls clamped down on her fingers, greedily begging her to stay.

You eyes rolled back as you let out a pornographic moan. Again she removed her fingers from you hole causing you to sigh in utter frustration. At this point you were getting fed up, you wanted what you wanted and she wasn't giving you what she said she'd provide.

" fuck! Would you just fuck me already bitch!" You realized what had just come out of your mouth when vanessa entire face went dark. Her pupils completely delayed. You couldn't read her expressions or even break down what could possibly be thinking. You've never regretted anything in your life more than this moment.

"I'm sor-" before you could finish your sentence you felt a hot stink across your cheek. You turned to look at vanessa, shocked. Did she just... slap you..... you'd probably slap her back but God it just made you get wetter.

" do it again" Vanessa's eyebrow quirked as a slight curve appeared on her lips but just as fast as it appeared it disappeared. Her hand came down again on your cheek causing you to whimper. You felt as her hand gripped your neck in a rather harsh manner. She brought your face closer to hers, lips inches around.

This woman would be the death of you.

Not only was she older by twelve years, she's blonde, has blue eyes, a hot cop and she's rough.

Her hands squeezed your cheeks, snapping you out of your trance. You definitely ignited something mysterious within her, another side that you were longing to see. To feel .

" do not fuck with me little girl. I will fuck you up" her voice crack a little and you tried - you really tried with every cell in your body not to laugh but just your human. Vanessa tightened her grip around your neck and slammed your head against the mirror causing you to moan.

" you take me for a joke? That's what it is? I'll show you the real joke" although you had no clue what she meant you had the perfect idea what she was referring too. Vanessa got up and unzipped her pocket, she pulled out a small shiny pink circle looking object before kneeling again. You felt as her tongue flicked up and down your slit twice before the small object slipped into you.

" get dressed" she demanded and you just compiled. After fixing your clothing as best as possible. you exited after her to find abby and her friend eating Mac and cheese and Mike standing in the kitchen making bacon and grilled cheese sandwich. You froze.

Vanessa was already sitting at the dinner table smoking a cigarette as if nothing had just happened. When she looked eyes on you she immediately averted them back towards mike. She cleared her throat mike turned around to face Vanessa before glancing up at you. He smiled softly.

" hi y/n! So glad you made it, I trust that you two have been getting along?" You nodded and he smiled before glancing over at vanessa who was breathing smoke through her nose, eyes fixed on you, making you shiver as you quickly look away. She left you so needy and destroyed begging for her mercy.

Poor Mike, only if he knew what went down in his bathroom. The sinful Arora he would smell if he were to enter it now. The sweat of the counter, fog on the glass. The smell of sex would haunt him forever.

" I know how...well... unreasonable vanessa can be at time, anyway I came home early for lunch so I thought I'd make us some, wanna stay for some?" He asked and that's when you felt it. The vibrations, the intense shocking in your vagina. You grabbed onto the counter as you let out a small mouth which you covered up as a groan.

" sorry. Its just Cramps. girl stuff" Mike nodded in understanding.

" let me get you my mom's old hot water and jel compress" he said before he left to go into the bedroom. You felt Vanessa's piercing gaze. Gazing over at her you both locked together in a trance. She winked at you just as Mike returned. You thanked him and he went back to cooking.

Neither of you broke your gazes. You knew things were about to get heated as she secretly showed you her phone with the vibrators settings. Your chest continued to rise and fall as the ache between your legs only continued to grew. Vanessa shelly will be the death of you.

#fnaf vanny #vanessa shelly #five nights at freddy's #wlw fanfic #wlw smut #babysiter smut #marilynthornhilllover fanfics #wlw police office smut #Spotify

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babybluebex · 3 years

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everyone loves an outlaw [arvin russell x reader smut]

➽ pairing: mob!arvin russell x fem!reader(y/n) ➽ word count: 2.2k ➽ summary: arvin works for your dad and you have to keep your relationship a secret. ➽ warnings: NSFW/MDNI. smut, explicit language, age gap (reader is legal tho!), fingering (f!receiving), praise kink, breeding kink ➽ a/n: mob!arvin goes brrrr hehe

In small towns, there weren’t many ways out. A job was the usual way-- graduate high school and get a job out of town and leave Coal Creek in your dust. Sometimes, though, the job search was fruitless and many people, young and old, were left to rot in West Virginia. That seemed to be the case for Arvin Russell. We went to high school together, him being a senior when I was a freshman, and I remember my father going on about him. “Gonna get him when he graduates,” Daddy said. “Not lettin’ somethin’ like him get outta here.”

Legally speaking, my dad’s business was in bail bonds. We had family in Chicago that we worked for, and the line of work that my father did was less on the end of selling the bonds and more towards extracting the payments. Coal Creek had a few names for what my family did-- “mob”, “mafia” (which were technically two different things, but the people in Coal Creek had no hope of ever distinguishing the two)-- but we preferred to call it family.

And, God almighty, Arvin Russell was in need of family. When he graduated, he had a bright future ahead of him, but that flame was put out when his little sister died. Lenora was a year ahead of me, quiet and reserved and very bookish, and it took the entire town by surprise when we heard that she had died. Rumors flew around as to why; she was sick and didn’t want to burden her family with her illness was a popular one. When Lenora died, Arvin lost his way. Wayward young men looking for protection and acceptance was my dad’s type when it came to employment.

He had me do it. I usually was the one to go out and hire young men. Papa realized fairly quickly that men would do basically anything I asked of them, including signing themselves into our little family, so, one day in my senior year of high school, I went to the garage where Arvin Russell worked. He split his time between road construction and the garage and, when I met him properly, he had grease all over his hands. “Hi, Arv,” I said sweetly.

His pink mouth had quirked into a smile. “Hey, doll,” he said. “You’re Y/N? From high school, ain’t ya? Ya daddy’s got that bail bond thing goin’?”

“That’s me,” I said. “I, uh…” I had a script that I had to stick to. “I… I was just wonderin’ if ya wanted to get dinner sometime. Maybe go to a drive-in? That car you’ve got is pretty neat.”

“You like my car?” Arvin asked, and I giggled out a yes. “Ya sure it’s the car ya like, doll?”

“Not as much as the driver,” I said, biting my lip. ‘C’mon, Arv, this is takin’ a lot of courage to ask ya.”

Arvin sat up from the rolling creeper he was at and wiped his hands on the thighs of his pants. “You really wanna go out with me?” he asked. His voice was dripping with absolute sarcasm, but his honey-colored eyes held something more hopeful. I knew, right then, that we got him.

“Well, yeah,” I mumbled sheepishly, picking at a loose thread on my blouse. “I’ve kinda had my eye on you since… Forever, I guess. I-I just think you’re outta sight, Arvin.”

Arvin’s eyes glanced over me, still wearing my clothes from school, and he gave me a smile, much more sincere than ever before. “Sure thing, doll,” he said softly. “What d’ya say to Friday night?”

Friday night came, and it was quickly obvious that the movie would be forgotten. Instead of that, Arvin and I ended up in the backseat of his car, his hand up my shirt, making marks on my neck that my dad would be mad at. I never planned on fucking Arvin and, while I had no qualms about doing so, I stopped when his long fingers began to dance at my panties. “Arvie,” I panted, grabbing his wrist. “I ain’t ever done nothin’ like this before. I-I just--”

Arvin kissed me softly, his hand holding my cheek tenderly. “No sweat, doll,” he told me. “We’ll go as fast or slow as you want. I’m here for you.”

I was supposed to break it off with him after that, but I just couldn’t. There was a bit of truth to what I said when I asked him out initially, that I had my eye on him for a while. I had always thought that Arvin was pretty cute, and I enjoyed the time I had with him. We had to sneak around, though, because my dad would have cast both of us out if he knew. While I was supposed to fluff up their egos and convince them to join the business, I wasn’t supposed to fool around with the guys my dad hired. Arvin was different, though, in a way that I couldn’t put my finger on. He was kinder, a gentler soul than most, hidden behind a gruff exterior.

School was grueling, but the sight of the old Chevy waiting in the parking lot for me brought me comfort. Arvin stood near the door of the school, smoking a cigarette as he waited for me, and a smile passed his face when he saw me.

“Arvin, you know damn well that you aren’t supposed to be here right now,” I hissed quickly. “My daddy’ll kill you.”

“I reckon he’d have to catch me first,” Arvin chuckled. His smile promised illicit moments in the coming minutes, and he added, “It looks like it’s gonna rain and I was thinkin’ of offering you a ride. Wouldn’t want ya to walk and get all wet and melt.”

“Why would I melt?” I asked. “I ain’t no witch.”

“Nah, but you’re all made of sugar,” Arvin told me. “C’mon, babydoll. I know you want to. I might even buy you a milkshake if you’re good to me.”

“Good to you?” I laughed. “Right, ‘cause that’s my goal in life, Arv, is to please you. Fuck off.”

“Dolly’s got an attitude today,” Arvin drawled around his cigarette. His dark eyes were full of energy and promised nothing but fun, and the fact that he hadn’t given up his advances yet let me know that he saw right through my fake resistant measures. After all, he knew that I would give in no matter what, just as I always did. “Jesus, woman, you’re makin’ me work for it today, huh? This is fun for you, yeah?”

“Oh, so much fun,” I assured him. “I love makin’ ya dance, Arvie.”

“Shit, do I gotta get down on one knee?” Arvin laughed. “I was hoping that you’d be all graduated first but--”

I tugged Arvin close by his worn leather belt and I silenced him with a kiss to his cheek. My pink lipstick left a mark on his skin, and I said, “We can talk ‘bout that later. Thanks for the ride, loverboy.”

“Never a problem with you, doll,” Arvin told me.

As usual, we ended up parked at the river, with Arvin’s hand up my skirt. My hips bucked up into his hand as his skilled fingers found home inside me, and a soft whimper fell from my lips. “Vinny,” I whispered quickly; that name was reserved for moments like this. “O-Oh, fuck!”

“Such a good girl,” Arvin whispered in my ear, gently nipping at my earlobe. “S’fucking tight, doll. You really ain’t been lettin’ other guys fuck ya, huh?”

“I only want you, Vinny,” I said. “Nobody makes me feel the way you do.”

“Good girl,” Arvin told me, and my body went warm with the praise. Arvin had always been so good to me and I truly didn’t want anybody else. But I had always imagined getting out of Coal Creek, leaving my family behind and having a good and honest life. I wanted to get married; maybe to Arvin, but maybe to someone with no ties to my family. I was lovestruck, I’ll admit that much. I was so pathetically in love with Arvin that I had doodled his name during class, even going as far to put his last name with mine. Mrs. Y/N Russell was enticing. If Arvin were ever to propose, I would be compelled to say yes.

“Vinny,” I said, and I grabbed his strong arms. “I-I’m gettin’ close, baby.”

“You hold that shit in,” Arvin growled into my neck. “Want ya to come on my cock, babydoll.” His fingers fell from me quickly, and he made light work of undoing his belt and jeans. My thighs were quivering around his hips, and I sunk down onto his hard cock with a satisfied keenness in the back of my throat. Arvin’s moan in my ear was heavenly, and he mumbled, “Pussy’s so good, doll. Fuck.”

“Fuck!” I squealed as he snapped his hips up into me. “Vinny, I-I--”

Arvin’s mouth met mine in a greedy kiss, and I whimpered my way through a blissful orgasm. Arvin swallowed every single noise I made, his hands raking my blouse up to feel the skin of my back, and I felt myself shaking so hard in his grasp. “Good girl,” Arvin shushed me, kissing all over my face. “So good for me, babydoll. Gonna help me now?”

Even though my legs felt like liquid and my hips ached, I rolled my hips down onto him. Arvin quickly got rid of my shirt fully and tugged my bra up my chest to expose my tits, my nipples hard at the feeling of him. His mouth latched into my tit quickly, and I pushed his curls off of his forehead as I watched him suck on my tit. Arvin looked up at me through his dark eyelashes and gave my nipple a quick bite with his front teeth, and I yipped. “Vinny!” I cried.

“Aw, dolly,” Arvin cooed. “I only do it ‘cause I like the pretty little noises you make.”

I chuckled breathlessly, and, with his lips back on my nipple, Arvin winked at me. “Arv,” I sighed. “Your cock is literally inside me right now. You can knock it off with the flirting.”

“Can’t help it,” Arvin said, biting his bottom lip as he cupped his hands around my breasts. “Just an instinct.”

“It’s a good thing I like it,” I whispered, and I leaned down to kiss him. His breath was hot against my mouth, and I clutched his hair as he continued to fuck into me, and I finally pleaded, “Vinny, please come. Want you to come inside me, Arvin, please.”

Arvin took a fistful of my hair and tugged my head back to expose my neck, and he kissed all over the soft column of my throat as his thrusts became quick and sloppy. “Fuck,” he whispered and sucked a mark onto my neck, but I was too far gone to chastise him for it. Arvin huffed out a heavy breath then, and I felt him spilling himself inside of me, painting my walls with his hot cum. I gasped aloud at the feeling of it, and Arvin set a kiss to my lips to silence me. “Ya like that?” he whispered. “Like being fucked like this? My good girl, my best girl.”

“Christ, Vin,” I whispered with a giggle. “I love you, you fuckin’ square.”

“Hey, I’m not a square,” Arvin laughed. His arms were circled around me, holding me tightly, and his cock was still inside me as he laid his head on my chest and tried to catch his breath. “But I love you too, babydoll.” There was a quiet that blanketed the car then, the only sounds being our rasping breaths and the faint radio that we had left on before climbing into the backseat. Arvin was right; it had begun to rain.

“Think it’ll take?” I asked softly.

“What?” Arvin asked. His brown eyes were still blown out as he looked at me, and a smile split his face. “Oh, dolly. Is that why you wanted me to come inside ya?”

I shrugged sheepishly, and I hid myself in his neck. Arvin laughed and readjusted us so that he was laying on his back, making sure to stay inside of me all the while.

“You wanna have my babies?” Arvin chuckled. “Your daddy’ll kill us.”

“I jus’ wanna be yours, Arvie,” I told him. “Want everyone to know I’m yours.”

Arvin pulled my face from his neck and captured my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “No more hidin’?” he asked hopefully.

I shook my head, and Arvin smiled. “No more hiding,” I agreed.

Arvin gave a content sigh, and he kissed my mouth once more. “My pretty girl,” he whispered. “My pretty wife, maybe?” I nodded, and he laughed. “Shit, that sounds pretty nice. Having a pretty little wife to come home to, gettin’ all big with my baby… Jesus, I love the thought of that. But you ain’t even graduated yet, doll. Are ya sure…?”

“There’re girls who dropped out ‘cause they got married,” I told him. “I think the fact that I’m engaged and pregnant, and still manage to graduate won’t be a problem.”

Arvin kissed my forehead, and he whispered, “Just a few more minutes, baby. Wanna make sure, ya know. Then, I’ll get you that milkshake I promised.”

#arvin russell x reader #arvin russell #arvin russell x y/n #tdatt #the devil all the time #tom holland #arvin russell fanfiction #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #arvin russell fluff #arvin russell angst

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theartofdreaming1 · 3 years

Photo

Here is my attempt at portraying Peeta’s camouflage skills convincingly 😅😅

As usual, my thoughts regarding this week’s prompts and random thoughts on chapters 19-21 are below the cut.

heart

While I love all the banter between Katniss and Peeta, I think my favorite of these three chapters is: “Trust me. Killing things is much easier than this,” I say. “Although for all I know, I am killing you.” “Can you speed it up a little?” he asks. “No. Shut up and eat your pears,” I say. A classic 😄

mind

I always imagined that Cato went after Thresh before coming for Katniss and Peeta because a) Thresh took the backpack for District 2 (which contained the body armor that would make dealing with Katniss’s arrow so much easier) and b) Thresh killed Clove and Cato wanted to avenge her... Although I have no idea how Cato ended up killing Thresh... he was doing pretty well for himself in his grass-y area... Maybe the Gamemakers wanted to punish Thresh for not killing Katniss and generated that thunderstorm and rain to force Thresh out of his refuge, which would give Cato a fair chance to kill him, I guess...

soul

Lol, honestly, since Peeta just generally seems to be motivated by kindness and love/caring, I don’t think it took much for him to keep the star-crossed lovers angle alive (I could easily imagine him actually noticing Katniss in the willow tree early in the Games and offering to take care of the District 8 girl, so the Careers would get the hell out of there, away from Katniss)

Chapter 19:

Peeta, who’s been wounded, is now my ally. [...] I’d loathe any tribute who didn’t immediately ally with their district partner. Besides, it just makes sense to protect each other. - Honestly, this just highlights what a kind person Katniss is, despite her aloof front; her innermost instinct is always to stick together and to protect. Because it doesn’t really make sense for her to team up with Peeta - she knows he’s wounded and won’t be of much help to her, her chances of survival are way better if she stayed on her own, but it’s not something she’d ever consider now that they are allowed to form a team (and only then does she even factor in the whole ‘star-crossed lovers of district 12′ -angle)

Peeta, it turns out, has never been a danger to me. The thought makes me smile. - Aww 😊 (but also, how heart-breaking that the Capitol will do everything in their power to change that, to make Peeta become a danger to Katniss 😢)

He’s very hard to predict, which might be interesting under different circumstances - Okay, but this just makes me think of that exchange in Gilmore Girls when Paris and Rory talk about how you know a guy is right for you: “Someone who’s compatible but not compatible.” “Yeah, kind of. I mean, you respect each other’s opinions and you can laugh at the same jokes, but I don’t know – there’s just something about not quite knowing what the other person’s gonna do at all times that’s just really exciting.” - fits these two to a T 😏

In fact, I’ve just about decided I’m on the wrong track entirely, that a wounded boy would be unable to navigate getting to and from this water source, when I see the bloody streak - Okay, but how flipping tough is Peeta?! He’s severely injured, with multiple tracker jacker stings and he drags himself to this terrain that is almost impossible to navigate for someone in his condition - a sturdy dandelion, indeed!

“You’re here to finish me off, sweetheart?” - What an entrance after having gone AWOL for quite a couple of chapters 👌🏼👏🏼

“Remember, we’re madly in love, so it’s all right to kiss me anytime you feel like it.” I jerk my head back but end up laughing. “Thanks, I’ll keep it in mind.” [...] “Katniss?” Peeta says. I meet his eyes, knowing my face must be some shade of green. He mouths the words “How about that kiss?” I burst out laughing - He’s lying in a river bed, slowly dying, and he can still make her laugh 😊

“You know, you’re kind of squeamish for such a lethal person” - It’s such a small comment, but I can’t help but think that Peeta is just kind of intrigued to discover all these little idiosyncrasies that make up the ever-elusive Katniss Everdeen ;)

Impulsively, I lean forward and kiss him, stopping his words. - Aww, she doesn’t even want to consider him dying, so she spontaneously decides to cut him off with a kiss👀👀 Honestly, at this point Peeta has elicited 2 (!) spontaneous kisses (the kiss after the chariot ride and this one) from Katniss, who generally isn’t that big on touching people

“You’re not going to die. I forbid it. All right?” - Stubborn, protective Katniss... But also reminds me of their rooftop “date” in CF and the “Then you’ll allow it?” “I’ll allow it” - exchange

I kiss him awake, which seems to startle him. Then he smiles as if he’d be happy to lie there gazing at me forever. He’s great at this stuff. - KaTNisSs, gurl... 🙄🤦🏼‍♀️

Chapter 20:

But I knew he was injured. And still I came after him. I’m just going to have to trust whatever instinct sent me to find him was a good one. - The very best of instincts, Katniss, don’t you worry😉

Peeta’s struggling to get up when I reach the cave. “I woke up and you were gone,” he says, “I was worried about you.” - Gah, why are the both of them so good?! They just care for and worry about each other 24/7

“How do you feel?” “Better than yesterday. This is an enormous improvement over the mud,” he says. “Clean clothes and medicine and a sleeping bag... and you.” Oh right, the whole romance thing. - Oh Katniss...😐 I reach out to touch his cheek and he catches my hand and presses it against his lips. I remember my father doing this very thing to my mother and I wonder where Peeta picked it up. - Where did Peeta pick this up? From a time his family was less dysfunctional? Observing couples in the town square? Or is he a fricking disney prince and these things come natural to him? Questions, questions...

“You didn’t sleep,” Peeta says. “I’m all right,” I say. But the truth is, I’m exhausted. “Sleep now. I’ll keep watch.” [...] I test his cheek. Hot as a coal stove. He claims he’s been drinking, but the containers still feel full to me. I give him more fever pills and stand over him while he drinks first one, then a second quart of water. - These two are just too stubborn to take proper care of themselves - good thing that each of them is adamant to force the other to sleep/drink/eat when necessary

“Besides I like watching you sleep. You don’t scowl. Improves your looks a lot.” - When presented with the choice of being flirty vs being a cheeky little shit, Peeta will choose being a flirty cheeky little shit every time 😂

“I’m going to make soup,” I say. “Don’t light a fire,” he says. “It’s not worth it.” - Okay, but what he’s actually saying is “I’m not worth it” 😭😭

Katniss telling that story about buying Prim’s goat😊... A young buck, probably a yearling by his size. His antlers were just growing in, still small and coated in velvet. [...] Beautiful. - We are all very much aware of Peeta’s appreciation for beauty, but the same does apply to Katniss, too (she’s just overall more pragmatic)

“Was it [the goat] still wearing the pink ribbon?″ he asks. “I think so,” I say. “Why?” “I’m just trying to get a picture,” he says thoughtfully. - Peeta is so detail-oriented! I have this theory that this is actually something that enables him to overcome his hijacking; we catch glimpses in MJ of how he inches himself out of his condition by asking/focusing on small details or things most people would dismiss as trivial (Katniss’s favorite color, the color of her dress visiting District 7, her Dad singing the Hanging Tree when Peeta was 6 or 7 years old...) and I feel like it makes a lot of sense - his tormentors in the Capitol either wouldn’t have access to distort these moments or not even consider them to have any significance (since they are all about big, flashy gestures in the Capitol), so these memories would remain untouched. Luckily, Peeta seems to live by Robert Brault’s words: “Enjoy the little things, for one day you may look back and realize they were the big things. “

“Really? What did you cost me again?” I ask. “A lot of trouble. Don’t worry. You’ll get it all back,” he says. - Well, he’s going to cost her a lot more trouble in the future - but we know he’s going to make up for it and bring her much happiness, too 😊

“You’re not risking your life for me.” “Who said I was?” I say. [...] “Of course I’m not going.” [...] “You’re such a bad liar, Karniss.” [...] Anger flushes my face. “All right, I am going, and you can’t stop me!” “I can follow you. At least partway. I may not make it to the Cornucopia, but if I’m yelling your name I bet someone can find me. And then I’ll be dead for sure,” he says. - Soo.. their love language is offering to sacrifice their life like it’s nothing, huh?! 😳😅

Peeta eats without complaint, even scraping out the pot to show his enthusiasm. He rambles on about how delicious it is, - lol, sounds like a husband trying to get back on his wife’s good side after they had a row 😂

I clamp my hand over his mouth and nose hard, forcing him to swallow instead of spit. He tries to make himself vomit the stuff up, but it’s too late, he’s already losing consciousness. - Ah, the most important indicator of true love: having person A force-feed person B a sedative so they can run off to get them life-saving medicine ;)

Chapter 21:

I lie next to Peeta in the bag, trying to absorb every bit of his fever heat. It’s strange to be so physically close to someone who’s so distant. Peeta might as well be back in the Capitol, - Reminds me how in MJ she’s going to be so close to Peeta (mentally/emotionally) while he will be physically so distant (in the Capitol!)

a tiny orange one [backpack] [...] that must be marked with a 12 - Interesting how that backpack is orange, huh? Why is that? Are smaller backpacks generally orange (like the one Katniss already has) to be more visible or is this simply to connect the backpack to Peeta (though we don’t know his favorite color at this point)? Do the Gamemakers care whether Katniss gets a matching backpack? It just seems like an unnecessary detail to throw in🤔

The table has just clicked into place when a figure darts out of the Cornucopia, snags the green backpack, and speeds off. Foxface! - Honestly, this was a truly brilliant move; kudos! 👏🏼

[Clove] carefully selects an almost dainty-looking number [knife] with a cruel, curved blade. “I promised Cato if he let me have you, I’d give the audience a good show.” [...] “I think...” she almost purrs. “I think we’ll start with your mouth.” [...] she teasingly traces the outline of my lips with the tip of the blade. - Okay, but the idea of Clove cutting off Katniss’s lips is just all kinds of terrifying and disturbing 😨

“No! No, I-” Clove sees the stone, about the size of a small loaf of bread in Thresh’s hand [...] Thresh brings the rock down hard against Clove’s temple. [...] and I know she’s a goner. - Interesting how Katniss describes that rock that basically saves her life (or at least kills her assailant) as bread-sized, huh? “Your district... they sent me bread. [...] Conflicting emotions cross Thresh’s face. He lowers the rock and points at me, almost accusingly. “Just this one time, I let you go. For the little girl.” - Katniss mentions the bread from District 11 as a proof of her alliance with Rue (and the recognition of D11) and Thresh spares her; bread keeps saving her life (while it keeps representing acts of kindness)

Cato kneels beside Clove, spear in hand, begging her to stay with him. - I appreciate this small, humanizing moment with Cato

The last thing I remember is an exquisitely beautiful green and silver moth landing on the curve of my wrist. - I don’t know much about North American insects (not that I know that much about European insects either - just recently came across a relatively rare moth on my walks that I had never seen or heard of before) - is Katniss describing a special/noteworthy species of moth? Or is this a more literary symbolism kind of moth? (Just looked up some symbolism meaning of moths: change/transformation, seeking light; power of regeneration in some Native American mythology, hmm...)

#thgagain #thg #hunger games #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #thg meta #thresh #my sketches and drawings #everlark

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oblivious-nuisance · 3 years

Note

So what I wanted was Tachihara and Chuuya (separate) with s/o who is Mori's daughter. SFW, Headcanons. Probably Mori's and Executives and Gin and Hirotsu's reaction. they all are so going to freak out and I know it and I'm living for it.

ohoo, i'm living for this port mafia soap opera lookin' shit. yes and please and thank you. hope you enjoy it!! also this is kinda long lmao (*´︶`*)ฅ♡

ꨄ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐅𝐈𝐀 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐒/𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐈'𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃 *

↳ includes: tachihara michizō, nakahara chūya

warnings: fluff, gn!reader, light cursing here and there, mentions of violence and weapons (classic port mafia bs)

↳ part 2 ; part 3

— TACHIHARA

"tsk, as if that's gonna stop me" he says after kissing you passionately while shooting the madman behind you, handling the other two afterwards with unmatched fervor, a huge grin remaining plastered on his face for the rest of the mission

still

man knows he's walking on thin ice

he knows

like, out of all folks out there, you were the one who managed to crawl under his skin (and stay there for good)

but!! he wouldn't change it for the world bc he's mad about you bub

he'll never admit it, but behind the insane respect and sense of duty that he holds for the boss, there is fear

bc let's face it mori can be a scary guy sometimes

so poor baby is always trying so hard to impress aww TwT

like he brings you flowers and works extra hours, goes on more missions a month than he used to in three and spoils. you. rotten.

"oh, you like that bag? no worries, my love, i'll buy you three!"

"michizō, baby, it's alri–"

"NONSENSE!"

mori's just amused abouth this whole thing, but he does nothing about it bc he's a little shit

and he somehow becomes brighter?? like he's got more soul and spice to himself, cracks up jokes that are actually funny and just overall becomes a much more enjoyable individual (that is, as far as michizō can go)

so everyone's baisically like o_O tachihara the fuck??

gin legit checked to see if he had a fever when he was passed out once after a successful mission

speaking of which

she lost her shit when she found out

"there is no way in hell"

yes, she spoke

apart from utter disbelief, she thanked you thoroughly for tachihara's change of personality

she'll never admit it but the two of you are so adorable okay

so congrats now you got one of the two akutagawa siblings to really like you

hirotsu was just baffled, really

"i will never understand how that good-for-nothing bastard managed to pursue you, but congratulations nonetheless"

he mostly keeps quiet and is really respectful about it, but will not hesitate to ask questions if/when given the opportunity

oh and he started prioritizing protecting you above all things. he doesn't even try to hide it.

"thanks, gramps", you'd hear tachihara whisper to ryūrō when he thought that they were out of earshot

higuchi was dumbfounded

she's always seen you as a superior, so the thought that someone inferior in rank to her is dating you really confuses her

"why?" ಠಿ_ಠ

"oh my god, aRE YOU SERIOUS? LET ME LIVE, jeez (－‸ლ)"

she becomes, like, ten times more prompt and respectful towards you both

and michizō abused that privilege, which in turn got him a thorough scolding from you

she may or may not have asked you to go on rides with her, either to the mall or just in town

and she wouldn't stop asking you questions about how it is being in a relationship while also handling mafia-related business

please someone give this lil sap a kiss on the forehead

— CHŪYA

"just my luck, i guess" he smirks confidently, offering you his helmet and helping you on the motorcycle in one swift motion

he doesn't really care that you're mori's child tbh

because he's already on the boss' good side

hell, whenever mori can't be in charge (for example, the whole cannibalism arc situation) he leaves the reins to chūya

so it's safe to say that he's a mafia leader's dream son-in-law

oh he's so soft around you bub 🥺

hugs and kisses and all that because he loves you!! and wants you to feel safe around him!! (since, yk, mori is by far one of the worst examples of how a man should behave, so consider yourself lucky that you bagged the fiery executive)

now on to how the others reacted to this

akutagawa just raised an eyebrow here and there, but otherwise didn't really have a reaction

he already respected you both, so it made little to no difference

but since he found out he started feeling like your junior a little, so he sometimes opens up to you and asks you questions about all sorts of things

what a baby (´ω`)

kōyō's reaction was subtle

at first you thought she didn't even notice, but then you started to realise that you were allowed to spend way more time in your lover's office that you normally should have been

or how, although the door wasn't locked, nobody bursted in, not even when you guys were making out like ??? huh [•.•ิ]

little did you know kōyō strictly forbade anyone to come into the executive's office unnanounced, and even made sure herself that nobody was going to ruin your privacy and ofc she couldn't help but eavesdrop from time to time

dazai, on the other hand?

oho

there's no getting rid of the man since he accidentally found out

the amout of jabs and puns that this bastard can come up with is concerning

because not only are you dating his good-ol' frienemy

you're also mori's precious offspring

so you can imagine how interactions with him go

on the other hand, although he'll never admit it, he's always keeping an eye out for you, never letting you out of his sight whenever he's around

chūya thinks he's checking you out and i think that you can figure out the outcome of it all

no translations, edits, copying, reposting etc.

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bsd headcanons #bungo stray dogs headcanons #bsd fanfic #bungo stray dogs fanfic #bsd tachihara #bungo stray dogs tachihara #bsd chuuya #bungo stray dogs chuuya #tachihara michizou #nakahara chuuya #bsd fluff #bungo stray dogs fluff #missrown.asks #lyn.txt #lyn.queue #sugar

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laufire · 3 years

Text

(CW for mentions of csa)

A lot of Commonly Accepted (Often Through Uncritical Repetition) Wisdom in fandom leaves me baffled, when not straight up ticked off, but one that's been on my mind lately, that never fails to bring a scrunched up expression to my face, is the idea that Bela Talbot's backstory was some last minute add-on to her character.

You might argue that the reveal was rushed since the writers caved in and killed her off against their original plan (or at the very least, earlier than). Or that using abuse is a trite way to raise sympathy for an antagonistic character. You could even say that some of the finer details might’ve not been set in stone until they sat down to write her exist, although that one is dubious. But I’m never really going to buy that Bela’s backstory hadn’t been already planned, likely in big part.

The reason why is Season Three Episode Six, “Red Sky At Morning”, Bela’s second episode, co-written by Eric Kripke himself. As all episodes with Bela were, may I add; which means he had a hand in crafting her story from the beginning, as creator, director, and writer.

There Dean, a character that has been shown as sharp and intuitive (although his success rate ain’t that great when it comes to Bela, admittedly xD), immediately pegs her as someone with Issues TM, asking “how did she get like this”. He even taunts her by referencing her father, showing off his talent to hit where it hurts by asking if he “didn’t give her enough hugs”, ‘cause he’s classy like that. This visibly affects Bela, changing her demeanor in their conversation, from more playful to defensive. Hell, I remember during my first watch in real time this moment, especially paired with the rest of the episode, was when I first thought it was possible she came from an abusive family.

Because, c’mon. This whole episode is about parricide. The monster of the week is a ghost who haunts those that “spilled their own family’s blood”. We get two other examples: a woman whose accidental car crash killed her cousin, and two brothers who killed their father for the inheritance. Clearly, the ghost doesn’t have a narrow criteria when it comes to means or culpability -which makes sense given his particular story: he was tried for treason and his brother, the captain of the ship, issued the sentence.

And just as we find out this information... Bela sees the ghost ship that foretells her death. This, paired with the insinuations about an unsavvory past and her discomfort at the mention of her father, aren’t a wealth of information, but they start to paint a picture. We now know for a fact that Bela caused the death of at least one relative (mom and dad); that she wouldn’t have needed to do it directly (she made a crossroads deal); and that she might’ve had a sympathetic motive (her father sexually abused her and her mother turned a blind eye).

That scene offers some more tidbits of information about her past that seem too in tune with 3x15 to be coincidental, and that absolutely break my heart: Bela’s “You wouldn’t understand. No one did.“ and “I’ll just do what I’ve always done. I’ll deal with it myself”. See, I always thought Bela must’ve told people, when she was a kid. That she reached out for help not just to her mother, but to everyone around her that she thought could’ve help: teachers, maybe even law enforcement; adults that should’ve being worthy of that trust and protected her. Except no one did (and the fact that her family seemed to be not only very rich but influential paints a very bleak picture that surely contributed to her cynic view of the world). So she took matters in her own hands, and sold her soul for ten years of relative safety and freedom from her abusers.

To tie it all up, her final scene in that episode offers some more moments that again, are very in line with her backstory. We see how she treats relationships as transactionals: she pays ten grand to the Winchesters for saving her life, like she paid with her soul. Dean, again, draws attention to her likely messed up past by calling her damaged, and she replies that “takes one to know one”. Terrible childhood, ammirite. The show wasn’t been subtle here: it’s telling us Bela has a terrible past, like the Winchesters do, but of a different kind that has resulted in a different kind of person. So yeah, I think all the facts were hinted at back in 3x06.

We could go even futher back and point out 3x03, Bela’s introduction. One of the very first things she says in the show, during her first face to face with Dean (a character that just condemned his soul to Hell), is “We’re all going to Hell, Dean. Might as well enjoy the ride”. Sure, it could be an incredibly fortuitous coincidence; as a writer, I’ve had those and they’re damn great. But it seems VERY lucky, and more likely to be a case of the kind premeditated, well-placed foreshadowing that Kripke excels at.

So, okay. I’ve established why I think Bela’s backstory wasn’t a spur of the moment decision. But why is there a notable narrative in fandom that it IS?

First thing first, I want to get something out of the way: you don’t have to like it even if it was planned ahead. I understand it’s a very thorny subject, and to make matters worse, it’s inherently tied to her death. You might even be fine with the what, but not with how it was dealt with (although personally, I appreciate that neither the abuse nor her death were shown onscreen. In fact, the worse violence we see Bela on the receiving end of in her run is Dean’s threats and manhandling, which seems like a very purposeful choice ngl. Even Gordon freaking Walker was gentler lmao).

But I do disagree with some extended fandom opinions on the topic, and I guess that’s what the post is about. For one, I don’t see how the show “condemned” or morally judged Bela in this scenario. If anything, they clearly wanted to make her sympathetic, AND they showed Dean as being in the wrong by robbing him of information. Dean’s opinion on Bela couldn’t count for shit, for once, because he didn’t have the full picture; because Bela had deemed him UNWORTHY of the full picture, and thus anything he had to say on her couldn’t be taken at face value (except this is Supernatural, so I guess this was a little too much to ask of some people?). I think saying that just because Bela died and went to Hell as a consequence of her deal, IN THE SAME SEASON the same happened to our co-lead, because the writers deemed her evil and irredeemable is simplistic at best, and the audience projecting their own feelings (or being unable to see past Dean’s) onto the writing.

All that said, to go back to the initial point of all of this xD: WHY does fandom seem to insist on viewing this narrative choice as some cheap last minute addition?

There might not be one explanation that fits all, but I have a few ideas. One is that, if this wasn’t planned for and hinted at from early on, some people might feel as if this “absolves” them of their previous (and disgustingly hateful and misoginistic) reactions to Bela. Others will see this as absolving Dean, and maybe even Sam to a lesser extent, for not helping her and for being callous towards her; if her tragic backstory was this artificial, rushed choice made by Those Writers, then Dean wasn’t responsible for reprehensible attitudes towards someone who deserved his compassion (and it can’t be denied that this fandom loves absolving Dean of responsibility lmao). And a lot people are probably only repeating what they've heard from others as the accepted narrative, especially those that didn't even watch all of s3 if at all (Castiel is my fave too, but seriously, s1-3 are worth it).

It’s like they’re creating this imaginary separation between Bela pre-reveal, and Bela post-reveal, to make the situation easier to themselves. See, Bela pre-reveal was this annoying bitch who inconvenienced and embarrassed our leads (not to mention dared have chemistry with them), and thus deserved to be punished for it; or, if we’re going with more modern fandom sensibilities, she can be made to fit into the shallow #GirlBoss mold, with a side of “Secretly A Lesbian And Therefore Not A Romantic Threat” flavour -the current preferred method to make controversial female characters more palatable.

The reveal throws a wrench into this narrative. “Bitch who deserves her comeuppance” is a hard sell when you’re talking about a character who survived csa. And a shallow #GirlBoss reading doesn’t work if you have to acknowledge that Bela was one of, if not the most tragic characters in the entire run of Supernatural.

She spent over half her life at the mercy of her abuser(s), hurt by those who should’ve loved her and protected her most. The rest of her life was extremely lonely, with seemingly only a cat as company, and a surface-level freedom that hid under the sentence that loomed over her head. She died without a single friend, or a simple show of kindness and compassion, without anyone bothering to fight for her. And then she ended up tortured for who knows how long until she became one of her torturers.

All of that is extremely difficult to digest. And when things are hard to swallow, people do as people do, and they try to simplify them. So, sure. Bela’s reveal wasn’t ever hinted at, it’s completely removed from her character and the person we met, and is not even worth trying to fit into the narrative. Sounds easy.

#talking to the void #my thoughts #spn thoughts #supernatural #bela talbot #bitter lau tag #fandom nonsense #spn 3x15 #spn 3x06 #spn s3

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yan-twst · 4 years

Note

Headcanons for the Yandere! Dorm leaders throwing a birthday party for f!MC since is her first birthday in Twisted Wonderland and at the end of the party she kiss them on their cheek and telling them that their the best friend she could ever ask for (she doesn't know that their yandere for them). You are the best writer ❤️

warnings: general yandere themes

riddle rosehearts

riddle is... so conflicted

he’s been tossing and turning every night, trying to push down the dark and honestly just wrong, evil emotions he feels when he sees his crush- even during the party, it’s difficult to not snap at others when they get too close...

in one hand, getting a kiss from them makes him melt. riddle has received so little physical affection in his life, that having someone he loves so so so much kiss his cheek is absolute paradise

and then... he’s suddenly sent back to earth. ah. a friend- of course. he clenches his fists and just goes silent. logically, he understands: he hasn’t confessed, but...

it’s clear to everyone riddle just leaves in a foul mood after that, but everyone chalks it up to him being flustered from the kiss. little do they all know, he’s trying his best to not blow up; DOESN’T SHE GET IT?! he set up this whole party for them, the best party she’d ever have- he got them a beautiful gift, so why...! DOESN’T SHE REALIZE?! he isn’t trying to befriend them; he wants their heart...!

from then on, riddle will begin to be much more clear with his intentions. he’ll act almost as if he was already dating his crush, intimidating heartslabyul students (and other dorms’ students if he has to) from getting too close, monopolizing their time with tea parties and such; and when he confesses, he better hear a yes, or he might have a “little outburst”

leona kingscholar

leona can’t even believe he put the effort into this- personally, he’d be pissed if for his birthday, someone tried to pull all the celebrations his dorm had set up (with his help), but... well, seeing his crush having fun and enjoying the traditional afterglow savannah-style celebration makes it almost worth it

of course, everyone is on their best behaviour. even dancing or goofing off, it’s clear the usually rowdy and enthusiastic savanaclaw students are keeping their distance from the special guest

... because they’d been thoroughly warned by leona to not try any shit. his crush is his, his prey, his target; leona isn’t very subtle about it at all, not with his flirting and teasing

which makes it all the more infuriating when his little herbivore presses a kiss to his cheek and then calls him a friend

leona has no hesitation in growling and pressing them against his chest, face inches away from them, even as he watches them panic and ask what’s going on

does she think he’d go through all of this for just anyone, huh? he could be resting now, but instead he chose to go through all the trouble to set up a birthday party of all things- are herbivores really that dense?

he has no shame on just kissing them right then and there, whether they want to or not. it’s not like anyone from his dorm is going to intervene: they’ve been all thoroughly warned to not get between a lion and his prey- and leona’s got his prey right in his hands

azul ashengrotto

azul has been doing all he can to not fuck this up. he knows that every time he hangs out with his new best friend he acts a bit odd- bits and pieces of his smooth attitude broken by the swirling emotions in his chest, the desire to just take them and hide them away that he can’t seem to push away...

he’s more than happy to celebrate their birthday in the monstro lounge. really, he’ll make it their best birthday! azul has no shame in hooking some poor souls into contracts so they have to work to decorate the lounge from top to bottom just for his crush’s birthday

... so why.... why... after all his effort- not just now, but all the effort he’s put into making himself look like the best possible option... is he being pushed back to being a friend...?

even though azul has become quite good at masking sadness over the years, it’s clear that after his crush says that, he’s... not right. he’ll end up leaving early to just bawl, reduced to a crybaby octopus again

oh, but once he’s gotten all those tears out, azul will steel himself. he has to take a different approach, it seems- his passive and friendly role isn’t working, is it?

so maybe it’s time he takes a more forceful approach to this budding relationship. the people up here in the land do say ‘love blooms in adversity’, don’t they? he’s sure his darling will come around; he just has to be... a bit more persuasive, hook them in and keep them to himself

kalim al-asim

is it truly kalim if he’s not throwing a party? kalim spares no expenses for his crush’s birthday party- parades of elephants and dancers, live entertainment, cooks from all over the world, the finest ingredients money can buy; not to mention the gifts, things so expensive they’re worth more than the entire contents of the scarabia’s treasury

although others see kalim as a kind but ultimately airheaded boy, they’d be impressed at how good he’s at just... hiding his feelings. he’s been through a lot in his life- poisoning attempts, kidnappings, threats of assassination... so something as silly as hiding his crush on his close friend?

he can do that with his hands tied! besides, he’s a naturally affectionate guy, so nobody really suspects anything when he acts a bit romantically to his crush- not even his crush realizes

kalim’s joy over being kissed on the cheek is crushed slightly when the words “you’re the best friend i could ask for” sink in- although that’s not enough to crush his spirit

friends... well, that’s something! all relationships have to start somewhere, right...? he just needs to make his intentions clearer! kalim is sure he’s in love; that’s what that swirling, dark emotion in his chest is, right? those impulses telling him to keep his darling, to lock them away like the finest treasure- to take, take what he wants with no regards for anyone else...

his crush better be ready, because after this, kalim will become quite... forceful. he isn’t used to having something he wants that he cannot just immediately have- and he wants his crush to be his, entirely his

vil schoenheit

a party planned by vil is, in essence, the fanciest and prettiest party one will ever see. pomefiore is already like an old french castle, perfectly maintained and filled to the brim with beautiful people, all doing exactly as vil says

he’s known for a while that he’s in love with the odd magicless student- at first, he was aghast. how could he fall for such a lost and weak little potato?! but every second he spent with his crush, he could feel it; potential, beauty... already so precious, it almost sparked jealousy in him- he needs to make that beauty and potential bloom, and he’ll make it happen- he’ll turn that little potato into his own beautiful porcelain doll

when vil is kissed on the cheek, he doesn’t even have time to bitch about his concealer- the words are ringing in his ears. so... he’s the best friend one could ask for...?

vil feels like screaming in rage, but he allows the party to end peacefully and bids his crush goodbye- although it’s clear rook can tell that the queen of pomefiore is about to have a drama fit once the doors are closed

vil is outraged. how dare- how dare the one he loves not see his beauty?! friendship isn’t what he is aiming for: he needs more than friendship, he needs love, he needs for his beloved to be desperately in love with him too...! he feels like an idiot, pining for someone who claims to see him as a friend- and he hates it

he knows that everything requires effort. there’s no cheat to be instantly beautiful or smart; everything he has, he’s worked painstakingly hard for. but.... but- he’s worked so hard- so, so hard...! so he sees no problem in taking what some would see as the easy route

the next time he offers his crush a smoothie, he’s barely able to hold back his smirk; let’s see if he’s still “the best friend ever” once there’s potent and fast acting love potion brewed by himself coursing through his beloved’s body

idia shroud

admittedly, he thinks the party is a little shitty. it’s just him and ortho and his crush, playing board games and videogames. he’s... more than ashamed he couldn’t set up a real party, but... the thought of filling the ignihyde common room with all of the socially awkward ignihyde students and some loud people from outside, the crowds, the- agh!

having his crush so close is... almost difficult to handle for him

his heart keeps screaming out at him, the impulse to hold his beloved in his arms, to hug, to kiss, close the locks in his room- it’s not like a magicless student really needs to be attending classes...! he can- he can keep his crush in his room, all to himself-

it’s just... so hard to hold back all those emotions. they’re wrong, he’s a freak for thinking that, and he knows it, and yet... he can’t stop thinking about how much he wants to just keep his crush in, to shower his beloved with all the heartachingly sweet love he can barely hold back

a kiss on the cheek sends him into a frenzy. that’s- he’s...! idia barely has contact with other people; one little kiss is enough to send him into overdrive

........ but then....... he’s pushed back....

friendship... he thinks he should be happy- his crush thinks he’s an amazing friend! not a freak or a weirdo! but that’s... no, it’s not enough. the greedy little voice in his heart keeps whispering darkly; friendship isn’t nearly enough, is it? he wants more; he wants to claim his crush as his, to own, to keep...

even after this, though, idia will take awhile to truly make a move. he’s terribly scared he’ll fuck up and scare his crush away; his heart couldn’t possibly take that. instead, he’ll keep organizing videogame nights, bringing his crush to his room, doing his best to grow closer to her

... and one day, he simply won’t let her go

malleus draconia

even though malleus might try to keep acting somber and dark, it’s clear to everyone the dark fae is over the moon planning a birthday party for his friend. it’s understandable; malleus has four friends, three of which are technically his guards.

lilia and silver can probably tell malleus has a crush on the human he hosts the party for quite easily; with how he trails after her like a lost puppy, trying to get her attention and such. they make sure sebek doesn’t get in the way

when the party’s ending and he receives a kiss on the cheek, malleus feels like he might accidentally set something on fire. he’s never- he’s never been kissed before (not counting goodnight forehead kisses from lilia back when he was a baby); he feels like in his absolute joy he might let magic lose

however... malleus heart shrivels at being called a friend. even when the party ends and his crush goes back to her dorm, he can’t find peace- he tells himself he should be happy, and yet...!

malleus doesn’t want to consult lilia on this matter. he feels... childish and immature- but the emotions lurking in him are nothing of the sort. his draconic instincts tell him to keep, to take his beloved and keep them in his hoard; mixing the desire to possess with the desire to love

he’ll begin to drop hints at something darker going on from there on every time he meets with his friend. they’re vague enough that she won’t realize what he’s talking about- but he means every word he says

to his crush, it might feel like his confession comes out of nowhere- it’s just another of their nightly walks, nothing out of the usual, other than the fact the tall fae has just confessed his undying love to them. it’s... sudden, it’s too intense, but... in the end, they better say yes; after all, malleus is set on his decision- they’re his, and he’ll make them see he won’t stand to being seen as just a friend.

#yandere #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #riddle rosehearts #leona kingscholar #azul ashengrotto #kalim al asim #vil schoenheit #idia shroud #malleus draconia #Anonymous

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lady-literature · 4 years

Text

no point wishing on stars

aka the jasonette aladdin au literally no one asked for

This is a great big amalgamation of semi-canon miraculous, batman and a heavy dose of bastardized Aladdin but here we go-

The story goes like this:

Jason is our beloved street rat turned prince Boy Wonder and billionaire’s son (not that he’s gotten that far yet).

Marinette is Ladybug, is the Guardian, is our modern-day Jasmine. She’s next in line after Fu to lead the Order, which, I suppose, is like High Royalty for superheroes/magic users.

But before she can take her rightful place, she needs a partner by her side. It’s so stupid rule that says she, as a Ladybug, needs a Black Cat by her side in order to be properly balanced.

The only problem is, she doesn’t want one. Or, well. More accurately, it’s that she doesn’t like the ones offered to her, and she doesn’t quite like the idea of being tied to someone she barely knows, especially not at fourteen.

There have been many Black Cat candidates to cross her path but there has been only one she did not immediately veto. Adrien Agreste may be a Black Cat, but he cannot be hers. He will never be anything more than her dearest brother, and that is not what Creation needs.

Creation and Destruction—life and death—have a certain type of relationship. They are lovers, mated and married in every meaning of the word.

And, for as much as she loves and adores Adrien as her brother in her soul, they will never be like that. She will never want him the way she must should he take up Destruction.

So yeah. Marinette has a problem. And yeah, she has some time to figure it out, but the Order is looking to have her figure it out sooner rather than later. Adrien is a good place holder for now, but if Marinette doesn’t choose a Black Cat by the time she’s twenty-one, Adrien will either have to do, or she forfeits her crown and the Ladybug miraculous (which she would never do, she loves her people and Tikki too much to ever do that).

(wait? Does this mean I made Adrien the human equivalent of Raja?… yes. Yes it does.)

And, to spice this up just a bit more, let’s say Hawkmoth is Jafar, yeah? This little shit is really trying to push his son to be the next Black Cat because he wants power what’s best for his son. So he be out here sabotaging potential Black Cats because he’s an asshole his son is the best candidate at the moment. He could give less than two shits about if Mari and Adrien actually like each other that way, he will shove his son at her until she has no choice but to choose him.

Anyway, so Mari leaves the temple one day. Which is fine, she’s not trapped there or anything, she can come and go as she pleases! (she may have to normally take someone with her and is currently ignoring that rule perhaps, but that’s besides the point!)

So she’s at a market in Gotham, strolling down the street, having a good time enjoying being around normal people, when she notices a boy getting into some trouble.

(I’ll give you three guesses as to who it is and the first two don’t count.)

Jason was stealing from market vendors because the hubbub of the street is distracting and nicking a few scraps here and there is practically child’s play. Only, he miscalculates.

One vendor was paying more attention than he thought.

Mari’s across the street and sees the whole thing. Sees the vendor grab Jason’s hand in a bruising grip and snarl in his face.

She’s in between the pair before she even realizes it, mouth already opening around some made-up story about ill-advised dares and how ‘it won’t happen again, sir’ and ‘here, I’ll pay for that right now, no harm done!’

Jason stares at her utterly baffled and, thankfully, silent until after she’d already grabbed his hand and pulled him away.

Only, she pulls him away down the wrong alley. (Look. Mari’s a real sweet-talker and knows how to smooth ruffled feathers, but she is hardly street smart.)

Jason swears, and it’s the first words she’s heard him speak, and then it’s him tugging her along. Up a fire escape and over the rooftops because Jason likes to think he’s tough, but there’s no way he’s picking a fight with five guys bigger than him and wearing masks.

He likes to keep his heart beating more than he wants to keep his pride unharmed thank you very much.

They end up on a rooftop, panting and like, seven blocks away. Marinette is now very lost and with a strange boy who she doesn’t know. He seems… nice, and she’s a good judge of character, but that doesn’t mean much when they’re still very much strangers.

But then the two just look at each other and suddenly they’re both laughing.

And that, my friends, is the start of a beautiful friendship.

***

During those first few months, she and Jason just seem to click.

Mari starts leaving the temple more and more to meet up with Jason, and on more than one occasion dragging behind her a picnic basket bigger than her. (it’s stupid to let one of her friends starve just because he’s too prideful to take her food. So she plans lots of picnics for them both, and pointedly ignores the way he eats and hoards most of the food she brings.)

He is her friend—though she would be lying if she said she didn’t like him a bit more than what one would consider friendly.

And Jason, who is funny and kind and made sharp by the life he’s been forced into, likes her right back. She is one of the few great parts of his life, a bright spot in the darkness he has called his world for so long, and there are few things he wouldn’t do for her.

It’s… scary—just a bit—how important she is to him.

He tries not to think about it too much.

And it doesn't really matter anyway, because she is good and bright and amazing and he is… there’s nothing he can give her in return. Nothing good, anyway.

She deserves someone better. Someone who could buy her things as pretty as her and take her nice places.

Someone who isn’t a street rat.

And then he learns she’s Ladybug, right up there with Wonder Woman and Robin and all the other amazing people set on saving the world, and he feels he got that much farther from her. How can he ever compare?

Jason doesn’t wish, because wishing is childish and he learned too young that shooting stars don’t exist and he’s come to terms with the fact that this is his life years ago, all right? He doesn't need the burden of hope to weigh him down now.

(but perhaps, deep down, tucked away in the corner of his heart, there might be a thought. Small and scared and aching, he might think, ‘if only I could be there with her, if only i could fly with her, maybe then I’d be enough’)

Six months after he meets Marinette, Jason comes across the Batmobile.

His first thought is, this can’t be real.

His second is, I could buy Mari a real birthday gift with this.

His third thought is less of a thought because he’s already got two tires off by that point and then suddenly Batman is there and Jason is swinging his tire iron.

This then leads—somehow—to him winding up at Wayne Manor with Bruce Wayne and then he learns about Batman and Robin and he gets to be Robin and-

(and what else is a Robin meant to do but fly?)

It’s too good to be true. Wishes don’t come true and good things don’t happen to him unless their name be Marinette but… but Jason’s here and it’s not a dream. He’s no prince but, well… he thinks this might just be as close as you can get.

And, okay. He really does try with the whole secrecy thing, because he can understand why that’s important but, I mean… it’s Marinette, who is Ladybug. There really was never any chance of Jason keeping that particular secret, Batman or no Batman.

And about,,, two years pass like this ig. Mari is almost seventeen now, and Jason turned seventeen recently and the pair are getting closer and closer every day. They’re toeing the line of ‘more than friends’ but neither have really taken that next step.

The pressure is on Mari from the Order because she’s getting older and as much as she likes Jason, knows him but he isn’t a good candidate for Destruction and Mari must think of her people first.

Jason doesn’t get to be hers to keep and that aches but what else is she meant to do? She cannot—does not—want to change him in any way. So they stay, in their strange little limbo, with neither making a move.

And then, the unthinkable happens.

Hawkmoth hears of the boy finally, and is, obviously, furious.

He doesn't care if this boy can be a Cat or not, he’s going to ruin all his plans. So, there’s only one solution. He needs to get rid of him.

(i’ll give you three guesses as to how and the first two don’t count!)

Robin—Jason—dies, and Marinette feels when he does. She doesn’t know why or what happened, but the moment he leaves the world her blood turns cold and she feels sick.

Jason hasn’t even looked at the ring and already Marinette could feel the thread that had begun to tie them together. When she hears of his death—when she learns that he’s gone—Marinette shatters.

She shatters and cries and the world tips just a little, with the force of her sorrow, with the agony of her screams.

(justice is blind, yes, but is she deaf? Can she deny the sobbing of such a being as Creation herself? Can she stand, unfeeling, before the agony she has wrought?)

Marinette does not bring Jason back to life… but she has done something close. Has opened the possibility. Is, perhaps, the reason that six months later he screams and claws and drags himself from his own grave.

He is wrong wrong wrong, but he is also alive.

The league finds him, as they must. And Talia throws him into the pits, as she must. And Jason is reborn, screaming and angry and violent, as he must.

Marinette had known, Before, that Jason would not be a good match for the ring. He was tough and wild and willing to get his hands dirty if that’s what it took, but that was not what his core was. He was familiar with the rust and decay of back alley streets, but that wasn’t where he belonged. He would throw a punch but he didn’t relish the blood on his knuckles after a fight.

Jason was surrounded by destruction, but that’s not what he was.

Now… now the destruction he spent so long dancing with has slipped through the cracks in his mind left behind by the explosion. It ripped through his skin and slithered through into his veins until it settled in his heart like an overly smug cat.

Death and Destruction are inside him, woven in his ribcage and fusing with his blood, pumping pumping pumping its deadly rhythm and Jason is helpless to deny it’s tune.

Jason is a being of Destruction through circumstance rather than design, but make no mistake, that does not make him less.

(in fact, it may even make him more. To be remade from one’s own destruction is a powerful thing, and to be remade into Destruction? Well. There are few things more… miraculous.)

And we all know the next part of the story right?

Marinette mourns and grows and lives.

Jason rages and learns and plans. He’s come far from that street rat of a boy, and farther still from Marinette's petite oiseau.

But, two years after he comes back, when he ventures back to Gotham for revenge, Marinette takes one look at this angry, violent man calling himself Red Hood and she knows. He’s too familiar, even as he stands before her, more changed than she ever thought possible.

She meets the Red Hood when he comes for the new Robin, sweet little Tim who Marinette had grown to like despite herself. (He is not Jason, and never will be, but the boy was too shy and clever and earnest for her to have remained cold to him just because he wore the same colors once worn by the man she loved.)

She loves Tim in the same way she loves Adrien, simply and wholly and uncomplicated.

And then she is there when Jason comes for him.

Their reunion is not the stuff of fairy tales. It is not the beginning of happily ever after or true love.

Their reunion is a punch in the gut because it doesn't matter that he’s alive—except it does, because Mari has never known she could be so happy and so shattered at the same time—she is farther from him than she’d ever imagined she could be.

She reaches out for him, voice cracking around his name—because who else could this familiar stranger be?—and something in her shatters all over again when he flinches back from her touch.

“No,” he says, and it is a million things at once. He sends one last glare to Tim, who is still behind her, and then he’s gone.

***

Jason tries to avoid her.

Marinette allows this for a whole month before the whispers in the streets and the stories Tim comes back to her with, become too much.

She knows he is angry and out for revenge and building an empire out of the criminals that infest their city, but she doesn’t care. He was gone for two whole years and Marinette is tired of not seeing him-hearing him-touching him.

She has missed him like an ache in her chest and she doesn't care if he hates her or is furious with her, she just wants to see him. She needs to reassure herself that he’s alive, that he’s real.

And, it seems, the universe is on her side in this. In her chest, nestled there in the space next to her heart, there is what she can only describe as a compass, pointing to wherever Jason is like he’s her own personal north star.

The first few times, she’s yelled at or ran off. Or he runs off. Either way, for a while, the only moments she’s close to him are short and aching.

But she doesn’t let him run for long, and she doesn’t let him scare her off as she knows he’s trying to do.

Marinette had always been the more stubborn of the two.

Eventually, like a feral cat learning safety (like a hurt, scared animal relearning love), Jason lets her get close. He lets her in, lets her get close again.

The first time she sees him, without helmet or mask, she flings herself at him. Arms around his neck and legs wrapped around his waist, clutching him like her life depends on it. He takes her weight automatically, hand beneath her thighs while the other wraps around her back just as tightly. (he longs for touch, she has relearned, but he is also so frightened of it. She will have to be brave for them both)

The second time she sees his face bare once more, he is still thrumming with energy from a fight, is still high on the feeling of broken bones and blood on his knuckles. The force in his chest, the clawing and raging thing settled just off-center of the very core of him, pulls him toward her and Marinette meets him halfway, her own bright, ruthless force like a magnet in her chest.

They meet in a clash of hands on skin and lips anywhere they’ll land.

It is the first time they fall into bed together.

It will not be the last.

Now, you may be thinking, ‘Lady! This isn’t very Aladdin at all!’ and to that I tell you: I fucking warned you. What part of bastardized-Aladdin didn’t you get?

Also, shh. This is my favorite part!

So Mari is in her own personal little honeymoon stage, right? She practically could not be happier because Jason is alive and he’s hers and, even if he’s more violent and a crime boss, he’s stopped attacking his family at least. Which is good, because Mari really didn’t like the sad look Tim wore every time he brought up Jason.

And, oh yeah. Through a combination of her own detective work and Tikki, little Mari realizes that Jason is her Black Cat. Is the only person her Black Cat could be, not because of destiny—though that had helped—but because of coincidence and the bond the pair forged themselves.

So Mari is, obviously, on cloud nine at the moment and she tells Adrien and Fu who are ecstatic for her, and announcements are going to be made the second Mari tells Jason and what could possibly go wrong?

Well, a lot of things really but the first thing is that, basically, Mari is asking Jason to marry her. Just a bit. And while they both know, in that nebulous way they always have, that they love each other, neither of them have ever actually said it.

And also, they aren’t really dating right now either. Mari’s been too busy trying to just get near Jason again that she hasn’t much been paying attention to normal relationship things like dates or labels.

So when she brings it up Jason is… well, caught off guard is likely an understatement. Which then makes Mari realize what exactly she’s just done and- shit. She’s ruined everything and Jason is going to run away again and the compass in her chest is just going to be a reminder of what she can’t have and-

Jason, who only moments before was terrified and in danger of bolting—because this is a lot and magic-marrying Mari comes with responsibilities and rules and a thousand strings he doesn't know what to do with—now stops and stares at her, babbling and so obviously panicked and something in him abruptly settles.

She starts pacing and he grabs her hand when she passes by close enough, reeling her into his body. She comes easily even in her frazzled state and the vicious clawing thing in his chest sighs contentedly.

“Why?” he asks, and it is a million things at once. Why him, why now, why, why, why?

There are a million ways she could answer, but the easiest? The most important answer is simply this: “Because I love you.”

His breath shudders in his chest at her words and her hands raise to settle on his cheek and the back of his neck, a protection of one of the most vulnerable parts of him, and he leans into her touch like a man starved.

Gods, Jason has loved her for years.

He loved her Before and he loved her in the pits, when all he had was the hate they kept stuffing in his chest, and he loves her now. She is his sun and he will spin around her for the rest of his life. But when it all comes down to it, one simple fact doesn’t change:

“I don’t deserve your love.”

Her hands press harder into his skin, like she can force him to understand through touch alone. “If everyone only got the love they deserved no one would be truly loved,” she counters.

“You would,” he says, quick and quiet and honest. Her breath hitches and he watches her eyes go wide. The hands he has on her hips tighten at the emotions he finds there.

“Oh,” she whispers, already pulling him down to meet her. “Oh you stupid, beautiful man.”

And then they’re kissing and- and it is not the first time they’ve done this, but there is something very different about this one.

They’re kissing, and this time, it feels very much like coming home.

***

And, perhaps, that is not the end.

Because there is still one wish left.

Because Jafar-Hawkmoth is still there, and he’s still murderous, and there a very real chance he’s going to ruin the wedding somehow.

Because there is never truly an end to a story, it just simply stops being told.

But none of that really matters. Our princess and her dearest street rat are together at last, and together they’ll get through whatever happens after the story stops being told.

They’ve always had a thing for impossible odds after all.

#maribat #jasonette #my typewriter #aladdin au

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makeste · 4 years

Note

Are there any headcanons that you would like to share? About anything you want.

anon in the absence of specific guidelines I have managed to make this post pretty much entirely about Bakugou. I apologize if you really wanted to know all of my headcanons about Kouda or something lol. but all joking aside he really is the character I think about the most and so probably like 80% of my headcanons are about him, including close to 100% of the headcanons I actually have a solid enough grip on to put into words. anyway here goes.

he does not know how to tie a tie. he was a rowdy little free range knee-scraping grass-staining run-don’t-walk child whose parents only ever managed to wrestle him into formal attire a handful of times for special occasions when he was younger, and then he went to a middle school that used gakuran-style uniforms so he never learned then, either. his dad offered to teach him when U.A. rolled around, but he was all, “fuck off dad, I know how to tie a stupid tie,” because by that time he had grown into a cocky little brat confident in his own skill and naive as to the reality checks of the world, and he genuinely believed with the conviction that only a fifteen-year-old can muster that when the time came he would just magically know how to do it. on the first day of school he got as far as draping the loose tie over his neck and holding one end in each hand before staring at the mirror and abruptly realizing the hole he’d dug himself into. and so rather than admit defeat, he just straight up decided not to wear it. which became a permanent life choice once he got to school and saw how badly Deku’s tie was tied and realized there was no way he could ever risk that kind of humiliation.

in a similar vein, I know there’s a popular fanon that because of his parents’ influence Katsuki has a good sense of fashion, but my own personal headcanon is that this could not be further from the truth lol. it’s not that he has a terrible sense of style, mind you; it’s just that he doesn’t care about it at all. he’s a nerdy jock who spends all his free time studying and lifting weights. this kid literally only wears one color, and that color just so happens to be the easiest possible color to coordinate. he owns like three pairs of shoes max. he wears his pants three sizes up and they drag so much that the hems are all frayed from him constantly stepping on them (literally canon, and one of my favorite details from chapter 218). he just doesn’t give a fuck, so long as the clothes are comfortable and don’t look stupid. he has about a million things he’s more concerned about than what he or anyone else is wearing. in fact I’m 90% sure that his mom still buys most of his clothes, and about 70% convinced he does not even know what size he is.

he’s good at household chores (because he’s good at everything), but hates doing them. aside from cooking, which he enjoys, he will bitch and whine nonstop if forced to do tedious-yet-necessary things like washing dishes and folding laundry. that said, he is a perfectionist, and he also has a lot of experience because his mom made him do chores all the time during the seven trillion times he was grounded while growing up (that’s his estimate, btw, so it may be slightly exaggerated. he was not an easy kid to raise. when your kid’s fuse is about a millimeter long and he has a tendency to literally blow up whenever he throws a fit, you end up with a lot of objects in your house that have been replaced at some point), so if you do actually manage to get him to do the chore, rest assured that chore is getting fucking DONE.

when he was very little he watched an Avengers Endgame-style All Might film where a bunch of bad guys attacked earth and various assorted heroes tried and failed to stop them. then at the climax of the film, All Might showed up and said “I am here”, and everyone got super pumped up and excited because they knew the heroes were going to win with All Might on their side. this scene remains Katsuki’s favorite scene in anything. not the fight -- just the moment where All Might shows up and grins and the audience knows right there and then that he’s going to win. this is the feeling that inspired his dream. he wants to be the one who shows up and everyone is like, “we’re good now; Katsuki is here.”

when he was six or seven he got into a big fight with an older boy over that scene because he said it was fake and that there was no way All Might could have beaten those guys in real life. Katsuki insisted he definitely would have because All Might never loses. the other boy replied that everyone loses sometimes. Katsuki kicked his ass and got suspended for a week.

ten years later, Katsuki watched All Might battle All for One at Kamino and realized two things. one, that the other boy was right and that anyone can lose. and two, that he, the one who had so proudly defended All Might back then, was going to end up being the reason why he finally lost.

for a long time afterwards, he couldn’t bring himself to watch that movie again.

when he and Izuku were three years old their moms sent them out on a first errand (google Hajimete no Otsukai if you’re unfamiliar with this tradition, I promise you it is the cutest fucking thing you’ll ever see) to buy ingredients for katsudon. Izuku was full of bouncy childish enthusiasm and could rattle off the full shopping list of ingredients front to back, but when the moment finally came his confidence wilted as soon as their parents were out of sight. Katsuki also had a moment of panic when they first rounded the corner and he couldn’t see his house anymore, but rallied once Izuku burst into tears and he realized that he had to be the one to take charge. he proceeded to morph into an absurdly over-the-top caricature of his own mother for the duration of the errand, to the point where in addition to telling Izuku to stop crying he also ordered him to stand up straight and tuck in his shirt. the two of them went on to complete the errand flawlessly and their moms were PROUD AS FUCK and took a billion pictures. Izuku and Katsuki have only a few scattered memories of this milestone in the present day but it’s enough to send both of them absolutely reeling with embarrassment whenever they’re reminded of it.

he and his mom don’t often get along but sometimes they’ll bond over roasting a mutual target. they have watched many a trashy reality TV show together for this purpose. Masaru lives for these moments but never comments on them lest he spoil the rare moments of peace.

Katsuki is perfectly capable of using keigo (i.e. normal polite Japanese with no rude language/cursing), otherwise he would not be one of the top students in his ivy-league high school. code-switching is a thing guys! anyways his teachers are aware of this, because all of his essays and homework assignments are written normally. he merely chooses to go about his daily business acting like a wannabe yakuza stereotype because that’s just his personality, and he’s not about to start censoring himself and acting like some weird little goody two shoes robot person just to please people he mostly doesn’t give two shits about. but if you put a gun to his head and told him you’d pull the trigger if he said “fuck”, he would probably be all right; he’d just have to concentrate.

when he was little he went through a phase of collecting cicada shells and leaving them EVERYWHERE -- in the bathroom sink, on his mom’s pillow, you name it. Mitsuki often tells people this is when she started getting gray hairs. one time she opened a box of cereal and there was one in there and a little bit of her soul died that day.

he generally doesn’t care who calls him Kacchan. it doesn’t particularly bother him and it never occurred to him to pretend like it did just for appearance’s sake. also secretly for some reason the thought of Deku ever calling him anything else really bothers him. he’s not sure what it would mean if that ever happened, or what he would do.

all of his workouts are designed to strengthen his arms and back and shoulders because those are the parts of his body that take the most abuse from his quirk. other than that he avoids building up excess muscle anywhere else because the more weight he puts on the harder it is to fly around. for this reason he is never going to end up being a big bulky guy like All Might. one day Deku is going to surpass him in muscle, but he doesn’t care because he’ll still be a match for him in firepower and speed.

he’s one of those kids who will not so much as take a sip of alcohol until he’s twenty-five. partly because he’s experienced enough concussions that he doesn’t particularly want to give hangovers a try, and partly because he’s a control freak and honestly afraid of getting drunk and making an idiot of himself somehow. the rowdier members of class A try virtually every trick in their wheelhouse and then some to try and persuade him over the years, but not even the reverse psychology “aw, don’t worry, it’s okay if you’re... scared :)” thing works, because that’s only actually effective when he secretly wants to do the thing.

then one day he just wakes up and is all “you know what, I’m gonna try it”, and for the next few days his google history is basically just “how many drinks does it take to get drunk” and “how to avoid getting drunk” and “how to prevent hangovers.” somehow word gets out through the grapevine (he probably told Todoroki, who is the one person in class A you’d think wouldn’t be a big ol’ gossip but in fact IS) that Bakugou is finally going to get his drink on that weekend, and pretty much EVERYONE shows up at the izakaya that Friday night excited as FUCK.

Katsuki proceeds to drink a grand total of two beers over the span of several hours, and drinks like five glasses of water in between, and literally nothing happens to him at all except that Kaminari almost fights him out of frustration. the rest of class A never fully gets over their disappointment.

he actually knows like 90% of class 1-A’s names by this point. there are still a few people he doesn’t and will never know, though. twenty years from now Aoyama will still be “that weird fucking french kid” in his mind.

he had no idea who Eri was until the Christmas party. sometimes he’d hear the other kids talking about someone named Eri, and from context clues he somehow ended up thinking it was one of Aizawa’s cats. when Eri came to the party he had a brief moment of curiosity wondering if she was Sensei’s niece or something, and then he heard someone say her name and he was all “THAT’S ERI?!” and his entire worldview was briefly shaken up.

he pulled Kirishima aside to ask him and Kirishima basically gave him Eri’s whole entire life story which was way more than he actually wanted to know. he’s now kind of terrified of ever being in the same room as her for fear of having to interact with her because he’s pretty sure he’d do or say the wrong thing. most of the time being intimidating is something he strives for and puts a lot of effort into, including when he’s around kids (who are basically just smaller, sloppier adults in his mind), but he doesn’t want to be the guy who scared an abused kid, so he basically just hopes the others will have enough common sense not to ever go “oh hey you know who should totally interact with each other?? Eri and Bakugou!”

that being said, if circumstances ever arose which forced Katsuki to protect Eri, the two of them would totally bond and they would have a really sweet relationship in which Eri looked up to him just like she looks up to Deku and Mirio and the rest, and where Katsuki was constantly trying to be on his best behavior around her, like genuinely, sincerely trying, and kind of failing at it a lot but still being sweet in a gruff sort of restrained-disaster way.

...and after sitting there for a while trying to think of more I couldn’t come up with any so I guess that’s it! basically most of my headcanons are about how secretly boring Katsuki is. honestly if it weren’t for him having the vocabulary of a 52-year-old sailor whose foot was caught in a bear trap, he and Iida would probably be best friends.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #bakugou katsuki #bnha meta #bakugou meta #bnha headcanons #don't think there're any spoilers here except for the detail about his pants in 219 lol #sorry if I have spoiled anyone for that #makeste reads bnha #asks #anon asks #long post #oh whoops it was actually 218 my bad just edited #wait a second the christmas party is spoilers isn't it lol whoops #bnha spoilers #there we go

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amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines · 3 years

Text

Robin//two queens in a king sized bed

hey! happy holidays gays!! and to everyone who doesn’t celebrate christmas, i hope you’re having an amazing day!! this is based off ‘two queens in a king sized bed’ by girl in red. because i heard it and instantly fell in love. enjoy!!

The snow falls lazily outside the comforts of Robin’s bedroom. Snowflakes float on the soft breeze, adding to the white blanket that’s enveloped the entire town. It sparkles in the moonlight, making the entire street look magical.

But neither you or Robin care. You pull the garish blue and green comforter further over your head and Robin cuddles closer to you. Her toes wiggle against your legs making you squeak in surprise at the coldness, and when you force an eye open to look at her, she just sends you an innocent look back.

You shift until you’re on your back and Robin takes the opportunity to rest her head on your chest and wrap a loving arm around your waist. The soft fabric of her your shirt reminds her of being back at college. Where the two of you can cuddle in bed without having to also be on high alert that someone could walk in. You can lock the doors to your shared dorm, but you can’t lock a bedroom door.

Even if she could, her mom would just sacrifice a pin from her hair and pick the lock. Robin sometimes likes to theorize that in a past life her mom was a spy. It makes sense, she can pick locks far too quickly for a normal stay at home mom, and she has an incredible habit of finding things that Robin has carefully hidden.

She wishes you were back at college. She was going to stay after learning you weren’t going back to your own parents for the holidays. She was so looking forward to spending an entire two weeks with you. Nobody else around just the two of you having the whole campus to explore together. She could kiss you underneath street lamps in the snow, or while hiding in the corner of dark clubs that smell of sweat and weed, and she wouldn’t have to check if anyone was around and watching as many times as she usually does.

But then she told her mom, and before she’d even finished her sentence she was adamant that her only daughter was going to be staying on some college campus by herself for two weeks. She thought telling her about you, about how the new friend she’d made was going to be alone over Christmas so she was just being a good person and offering to stay.

Yeah, Robin’s made some mistakes in her time. Following Harrington into that elevator was one of them, but this was definitely the biggest. Her mom had pestered her for a week after about how she could bring you home and then it’s a win-win, and after some persuasion and promise to buy you anything you wanted, you finally agreed. Even if it was funny to watch Robin try to avoid her mothers phone calls, and the two visits to your dorm.

She sighs deeply and runs a light finger over the exposed part of your stomach. You move slightly, but don’t tell her stop and when she looks up, she sees a gentle smile ghosting your lips.

Her head leans against your chest again and she listens to your steady heartbeat while you listen to her parents clatter about downstairs.

Mrs Buckley decided on preparing some of tomorrow’s dinner tonight. She has a lot of guests coming over tomorrow so she wanted everything to be perfect. However when you hear a loud crash and not so muffled curse, you figure she’s starting to regret that decision.

You let out a short laugh that shakes Robin and she sits up surprised.

“Are you laughing at my parents miss-fortune?” She asks, raising an eyebrow and staring down at you.

“Yes.” You reply bluntly making her snort a laugh.

“Good.” She replies. “She deserves it for dragging us back. I’ve been trying for so long to get away from this stupid town. But every time I seem to make it far enough away, it always manages to drag me back.” She huffs and you see pain flash through her eyes.

Her fingers pick at the sheet underneath you and you watch as she struggles with something. A small war has just started in her own head and you can see her battling on both sides.

“Hey, hey.” Your voice is as gentle as it can be as you sit up. You rest a hand against her cheek and she slowly raises her head to look at her. She’s biting her lip, a coping mechanism to stop her from crying. “It’s okay.” You soothe and wipe underneath her eyes. The wetness from her cheeks dulls the perfectly disorganized splay of freckles that litter her face and that alone makes a sadness settle in your chest.

A stray eyelash catches your finger and you hold it up to her lips. She looks between you and your finger and a teary smile pulls at her lips

“Make a wish.” You whisper and she closes her eyes, letting another tear roll down her face and land on her crossed legs. But she leans forward anyway and you watch as she scrunches her face up in concentration before blowing lightly.

“You’re okay Robin.” You reassure her once her eyes are open again. It takes a minute for her to calm down, but soon she slowly lies down again. You follow suit and wrap your arms around her, pulling her tight to her chest.

“What did you wish for?” You ask curiously and she sends you a look.

“None of your business.” She mumbles.

“I won’t tell anyone. I promise.” You beg and she rolls her eyes.

“Fine, I wished for a less annoying girlfriend.” She glares at you but you just grin back at her.

“Ha! Jokes on you because now you’ve told me it won’t come true.”

“Damn.”

Of course that isn’t what she wished for. She’s going to keep her real wish locked away safely in order for it to come true. She wished for another Christmas like this with you, and then she wished for all of them afterwards. She settles back into your chest and smiles contently.

“If I knew I’d get this view, I’d have gotten upset a whole lot more.” She teases, her voice raspy from the tears, but you can tell she’s smiling and it makes you roll your eyes.

“Shut up.” You giggle. “And go to sleep. Otherwise Santa won’t come.”

“Excuse me. I’ve been very good all year. He most definitely will...otherwise he’ll have the wrath of my mother to deal with.”

“Yikes.” You say.

“Exactly.” She mumbles against your chest. Your eyes flutter shut and thoughts of what the the next few days hold rattle around in your head. Robin’s told you about her mom’s brother and his second wife. They only properly got together 6 months ago, but she’s 8 months pregnant so you can do the math.

You wonder if Robin’s grandparents are going to be as nice as she’s told you. A lot of Robin’s happiest memories come from hanging out with her grandparents, specifically her grandfather and you’re excited to meet them. But with that excitement, there’s also a sense of nervousness bubbling underneath it.

You may be meeting them just as Robin’s friend and roommate, but that doesn’t mean you don’t want them to like you any less. You want to see Robin happy, and to be happy, her family has to like you, even if she’s told you countless of times she doesn’t care what they think of you.

An alarm rings beside your head and your eyes snap open, a small part of you worries it’s already time to get up and if thats the case you’re not at all prepared. But then Robin rolls over and slaps the top of her alarm clock with far too much force for any normal person. You close your eyes again and wait for her to lie back down, but she doesn’t, and you can feel her staring at you.

“Can I help you?” You ask, refusing to open your eyes as an act of protest.

“Merry Christmas.” She replies and you can sense the grin she has. The tiredness from Robin’s tour of Hawkins has finally hit you. The highlights were ‘and this is the mall that i burnt down, but if anybody asks, it wasn’t me’ and ‘oh, thats where me and dingus used to work.’

The smile on her face while you were stood outside of Family Video was bittersweet. Steve moved out of Hawkins almost as soon as Robin did. And even though she was of course happy that he was finally getting away from all the shit this town had given him, a part of her was sad that he would no longer be here when she came back.

You may be tired. But it doesn’t mean you ever want to miss an opportunity see Robin Buckley smile. It’s a sight that you think everyone should see at least once. It fills your entire body with warmth and light and no matter how you’re feeling it’s guaranteed to cheer you up just a little. The only problem is, is that no matter how hard you try to capture it in a photograph, it just never seems to do it justice. There’s nothing quite like seeing the real thing.

So you open your eyes and sure enough you feel yourself relax at the sight of your girlfriend smiling above you. Her short hair falls down around here face and you reach a hand up to tuck a few strands behind her ear.

“Are you blushing?” You tease making her roll her eyes at you.

“No.” She crosses her arms while pouting at you. “Again...Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.” You reply, a gentle smile settling on your lips and you watch her face light up.

She throws herself back down against the mattress making the old springs creak a little, and when she’s comfy enough, turned on her side so she can face you and propping her head up with her hand, she waggles her eyebrows playfully.

“Not gonna happen.” You say. “I don’t want to be on Santa’s naughty list.”

“Prude.” She mumbles and you let an offended huff.

Her fingers skate gently down the side of your face, they trace the curve and bumps until finally she cups your cheek and tugs lightly until your facing her.

“Can I kiss you?” She whispers and a playful smile tugs at your lips and now it’s your turn to blush.

She hovers above you, her lips are parted while she waits for an answer and you’re sure its a mix of the slightly dim light and the thoughts clouding your mind, but they’re looking very kissable. It feels like she’s peering into your soul and you start to feel a little exposed, especially when the hand that was on your cheek moves further down. It traces your collarbones and leaves a trail of fire wherever it goes.

“Do you have any mistletoe?” You ask after definitely far too long of just looking at her. Taking all of her in is impossible to do. There’s so much to Robin that you’d need a lifetime to notice every single thing, but you hope more than anything that that’s what you’re going to get.

She pulls her eyes away from you, glancing up at the wooden bed frame before looking back at you and shaking her head.

“Sorry.” She shrugs, her voice raspy and it makes your head dizzy. “But can I kiss you anyway?” She asks and you slowly nod your head.

Her hand travels back to your face, her fingers curl around your cheek making them feel hotter than they already were. Her eyes flutter closed and you follow suit. You crane your head up to meet her halfway, bumping your nose against hers and the two of you giggle quietly in the moonlight.

But you can’t wait anymore, you need to feel her, to have her. You just need her. So you cut her laughter off with a chaste kiss and she instantly relaxes against you. She’s kissing you back instantly, not giving you a chance to pull back and her lips a soft against yours, so soft that they make your head spin and your heart hammer in your chest. And even though you’ve kissed her countless of times before, there’s something special about this one.

She moves to sit on your lap and you sit up to make it easier for her. You hands fall to her hips and she cups both your cheeks, pulling you impossibly further into her.

She’s the first to pull away, but you chase her for a few seconds making her smile at you so lovingly you feel like your chest is going to implode. She looks at you like you can give her the moon, the stars and the rest of the universe.

She looks at you like she’s known you you’re entire life, despite it only being four months, but most importantly she looks at you like you’re the most special human being on the planet.

And to her, you are. You always will be, she can feel it. She felt it the day she met you.

Her parents had left her stood on the curb outside the main building, her dad wanted to beat the traffic back and her mom was too busy sobbing to do anything about it.

Robin very rarely feels anxious, the last time she felt this sort of nervousness was when she was throwing fireworks in a burning mall. The feeling crawls up her throat until it settles in a lump she can’t seem to swallow.

But then you appeared, with your bright smile and kind eyes. And you introduced yourself and she’s never heard a prettier name. Your fingers brushed against hers when you shook her head and she felt her brain short-circuit.

You offered to help her carry her things to her room, and she hoped you’d be roommates, you had a warmth about you that made her feel safe. And she remembers the smile that graced your lips when you realized you were in fact roommates. She doesn’t think she’ll ever forget it...not that she really wants to.

It’s weird to think how much one person can mean to you. How you can go from strangers to them being the most important person in your life in a matter of months. It’s weird to think that all of sudden they’re the only thing on your mind, the highlight of your day, the person you’d give everything to even if you did only have a little.

When you look at Robin, all those little thoughts swarm your entire being. The thought that you’ve found someone to share your life with fills you with so much excitement. All your time is going to spent on her. Talking to her, thinking about her...loving her.

She kisses you again, this time it’s much slower, but it doesn’t mean it leaves you any less breathless and when she pulls away to lie back down, you feel a certain kind of cold settle in your bones.

Her legs tangle with yours and you wrap an arm around her. Her head rests against your chest, and even though her chin is slightly uncomfortable, you don’t mind.

The closer she is the better, so no matter how uncomfortable you are, you’ll stay right here forever, until forever disappears and you’re both left with nothing but each other.

#robin buckley #robin buckley imagine #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x you #robin buckley x y/n #stranger things #stranger things imagine

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frangipansi · 4 years

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Hi! If your inbox is open, I'd like to request a scenario with all (or any) of the demon brothers, + undatables reacting to a blind MC? Like, none of them expected to have a blind human and Devildom and they have to revamp everything to make it as safe for MC as possible. Can be she/her or they/them pronouns for MC. Bonus points if MC is extremely talkative and won't shut up lmao. Thank you!

OKAY! So, finally got this one out. I’m sooo sorry for the wait, but I wanted to try and do this right, not just some Daredevil nonsense, but I didn’t want to make the mistake of a ‘helpless blind MC’ either; because they’re not helpless.

I am also lucky enough to have a regular customer at my work that happens to be blind and she has been very happy to give me a helping hand to make this ask more real. She’s such a delight and her guide dog is beautiful and I could ramble on with our interactions, like one time she scolded us for moving the fixtures because she had just memorized the layout of the store then told her guide “you’ll earn that pay check today!”

SO! With her in mind, more so from her younger days that she reminisced with me; I have decided to work this piece around this customer’s condition specifically so I’m not just pulling shit out my arse.

To give you an idea, this MC suffers from Retinitis pigmentosa; their symptoms being tunnel vision and night blindness. So while they are legally blind, they can somewhat see. They use a cane when going out, use their hands and/or cane when inside a place knew to them – that happens to be in poor light (Devildom) – until they have the layout in their mind and move more confidently.

This also took a while because I couldn’t get a fic/scenario to work cohesively and hc was just not working either! But I’ve hopefully gotten it now, and I do hope you like it. I’ve also placed this under the cut because I’ve waffled on here.

Diavolo:

Interested. Anyone within the Devildom without eyesight, are generally the souls of the damned who aren’t permitted to move freely. Heck, he’s removed some of their eyes himself.

He wants to know instantly if there is anything he needs to change and improve to make sure MC’s stay is not only comfortable but enjoyable.

Absolutely loves how open MC is. He’s amazed at the resilience of humans; delighted to hear MC say how capable they are, though he does insist on one of the brother’s remaining her escort for the duration of their stay. Capable or not, he is well aware of how demons would use MC’s lack of sight to their advantage.

Really wants to ask how amplified their other senses are; disappointed to know most things depicted in movies are – for the most part – an over exaggeration.

Organises a tablet for them with all RAD textbooks uploaded so they have that ability to zoom in so they are able to read the text at their own comfort. Other systems such as braille, text to talk etc are also implemented if that is something MC prefers to learn by.

Lucifer:

Considers Cerberus as a guide dog? Impossible, the human would be eaten alive. Perhaps another smaller hellhound? Goodness no, they’d still be eaten.

Asks MC about their condition –on behalf of Lord Diavolo of course – so he is aware of anything that may help their stay in the Devildom.

Very pleased to see how receptive MC is, very talkative and informative about her condition; he’s surprised to learn the varying levels of visual impairment. Consults Diavolo on brighter lighting to improve her movements around RAD and already planning on improvements within his own home.

During MC’s first few nights in Lamentation, Lucifer appears on edge; always keeping an eye when they’re moving about on their own. Enjoys watching how they learn to memorize layouts, quietly telling themselves how many steps it takes from one room to another, touching hallway objects.

Ready to run to their side that one time MC walked into the wall; turning into the kitchen a little too soon; until he hear them chuckle to themselves and ran their hand along the wall until they found the doorway and walked through it. No damage done. He’s learning to leave them be, understanding that he doesn’t need to dote on them.

Mammon:

MC is blind? Ooh yeah! The things that boy could swipe to make some quick Grimm, and right under their nose. It was gonna be too easy!! Completely stunned when they still catch him out. “How’d ya know it was me?!”

Watches them narrow their eyes as if trying to spot him before coming up beside him and close the drawer he was just rummaging through. The nerve this human has to threaten The Great Mammon by saying they’ll use their cane to whack him.

Surprised at MC’s explanation on how they knew it was him. They recognised his scent; not only did he have his favourite cologne – which he didn’t think he wore that much of – they noted how he had a metallic smell, like the kind you get when touching coin constantly.

Likes to watch MC move around their room; at first using their hand to remember the layout and then moving as if they saw as well as he did. Considered rearranging things to see what would happen.

Okay, so MC isn’t helpless… but, other demons don’t know that. Considers using MC as bait; distract idiots so he can rob them and sell their things for a little Grimm. “I, The Mammon, am a genius!” “No, Mammon.”

Levi:

Couldn’t even imagine being in their position; all that manga he couldn’t read, anime they couldn’t watch… never knowing what Ruri-Chan looks like!!! Gasp! No way. Poor MC!

Really confused when he sees them one day, curled up on a chair in the common room, wearing a pair of glasses and a book in hand. Wanders over and looks over their shoulder before questioning what was going on; nodding when they told him that with reading glasses and preferably larger font, they could indulge in many a storybook.

As their relationship blossoms, he has a dedicated reading nook in his room for the two of them, including a lamp to brighten the area to help improve what sight they have. Likes that they’re happy to listen to him read to them his TSL series. He thinks about writing to the publishers for the next editions to have larger fonts; that way he could buy MC a set of their own.

He likes to sit and watch them bring things close to their face to inspect them better; his figurines which they – to his relief – handle with great care, or his manga comics to see which characters he’s fawning over.

He secretly loves that MC likes to chill by his fish tank wall. Why? They state that while there’s too much distortion for them to actually make anything out, they enjoy the ambient colouring and light; the two eventually just listen to music together like that as a means to relax.

Satan:

Of course he is utterly curious about MC’s condition and is glad to see how open they are to talking about it. He’ll look things up himself in his own time but nothing like hearing it from someone’s own experience.

Asks if those romance and crime novels are accurate; “so, do you touch people’s faces so you know what they look like?” finds it interesting that for the most part, this doesn’t happen; but it makes sense, he wouldn’t be too thrilled by someone he barely knows putting their hands onto him.

Writes down notes that he considers most important from the board during lessons and offers them to MC should they need them for their studies.

Another one who likes watching MC learn their way around Lamentation, like how they touch cupboard handles until they find the one they need while grumbling about how crappy the lights are.

Shared appreciation for just lying on the ground whenever a cat is near them, all responsibility out the window as number one priority is giving adorable little hellcats their undivided attention. Loves that MC is willing to con Lucifer into believing a cat makes a wonderful guide animal.

Asmo:

Oh poor MC, unable to see just how beautiful he is… Oh, they can kinda see? If he gets real close? Oh he can definitely do that! Bummed that MC promptly puts in some boundaries but once their relationship develops they do enjoy the closeness with him.

Learns – albeit slowly – that his looks aren’t going to win MC over, and instead begins to better understand the value of personality and getting to know a person. Should MC like Asmo, it’s because of who he is and not for all the fluffing he does with his looks.

Whenever he happens to be the brother escorting MC, just know he’ll always detour to the main hub; treating the two of them to manicures and pedicures, facials, all that fun stuff.

When shopping, he loves how MC feels the fabric of things he grabs for them and has an even bigger appreciation for how things feel on him. Absolutely enjoys offering explanations whenever MC would ask about colour or cuts if they can’t make them out should the lighting be too poor for them.

Will starting looking around for ‘fashionable’ canes. Yes, he knows it’s about practicality and he’s not going to take that away from MC, but what’s wrong with wanting to match their cane with that gorgeous outfit he’s picked out from them?

Beel:

Having no experience with a visually impaired human, he’ll ask MC if he should carry them places; it’s no big deal, they looked pretty light after all. Apologises if they happen to get a bit defensive so keeps close while they walk together, worried they may walk into or trip over something.

He’ll be curious about whether or not other senses are heightened due to the loss of another and is lowkey disappointed that they wouldn’t be able to hear someone in the kitchen stealing his food when they’re somewhere else in the house.

He loves cooking with them; the tastes of what he creates seem to be more balanced and they’re more than happy to sneak him a few snacks while Lucifer is occupied elsewhere. They’ll fool around, tasting things to see who can pick up more notes.

Things turn into a game between the two of them; if he spots MC in a room he’ll sneak up and try and get to them before they realise he’s there. “Too heavy on your feet,” or “you were giggling,” is something he hears a lot when trying.

Though MC can’t really see while he’s training or playing a game, he really appreciates that there still there to cheer him on; he’s taken to wearing a bright headband in hopes that they’ll be able to spot him out a bit better. They don’t half the heart to tell him they still can’t find him.

Belphie:

In the beginning, he’ll use MC’s lack of sight to their advantage; sly and manipulative to lure them in. Watches how they react to his voice, how their eyes or head move in the direction he’s in, learning how they work their other senses.

Tensions between the two would be tight after that moment and he’ll feel tremendous guilt for what he did to them; keeps himself at a distance, afraid they’ll recoil if they sense he’s too close and understands if they would.

Amazed that they find it in them to forgive him and help mend bonds between him and his brothers, and will spend whatever time he’s able building up trust with MC; whether that’s being their escort around Devildom or just being there for company.

He loves – when trust is established – that MC is just happy to lay with him while he star gazes and talks about what he sees, trying to paint a picture for them while they huddle up together in a fluffy blanket, sharing his cow print pillow.

Simeon/Luke:

They’re angels; their job is to look over and protect humans. So they are already well aware of how capable MC would be – Simeon more so than Luke since he’s younger and more interested in Michael – but they will still offer their assistance should MC need it.

They’re also the sort to take notes down during class that MC may not be able to see on the board; but they’ll ask before assuming.

Simeon has taken to writing a little bigger if it’s something he’d like MC’s opinion on his work; the two forming a bond through fiction and history. The two can be found losing track of time and just talking about any given thing.

Luke enjoys cooking with MC; asking them what they think of the taste of something he creates and asks how he can make it better. He’d love to be able to wow Michael upon his return to the Celestial Realm and MC will always critique his work rather than sugarcoat like Simeon would or just outright scare him like demons would. With a little push from MC, he takes lessons from Barbatos.

Solomon:

Quite unphased; he’s dealt with various impairments before seeing as he is still human despite being a very powerful sorcerer. He doesn’t offer assistance but will give it should MC ask him for help.

He has many a spell in his books that could quite possibly cure or ease symptoms of various impairments and is very tempted to bring this information to MC; but decides on holding back until he can figure out how to approach the subject. He’ll ask them how they feel about their situation and go from there.

Would also offer heightening other senses should MC want them; even temporarily if they’re just a little curious. “Let’s see what’s so crash hot about being Daredevil!” “My thoughts exactly MC.”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie #obey me diavolo #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #obey me luke #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me gn!mc #obey me blind!mc

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thatsbucknasty · 4 years

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she used to be mine waitress au

summary: Inspired by the broadway musical. Y/N Beck is a pie baking force to be reckoned with. She’s pregnant with her lazy ass husband, Quentin Beck’s baby. As everything around her turns upside down, Doctor James Buchanan Barnes charms his way into her life.

pairing: Y/N x Bucky

characters:

Y/N Beck as Jenna Hunterson

Bucky Barnes as Dr. Pomatter

Wanda Maximoff as Dawn

Natasha Romanoff as Becky

Sam Wilson as Cal

Steve Rogers as Ogie

Nick Fury as Joe

Quentin Beck as Earl Hunterson

Maria Hill as Nurse Norma

a/n: some of the dialogue I got straight from the play/songs to preserve the witty essence of Waitress, but keep in mind this is an au, so I will change things up regarding the storyline and ending. Enjoy!

p.s. let me know if you wanna be tagged c:

p.s. ii this chapter is merely introductory so we won’t get to meet Bucky just yet but he’s coming soon, I promise!

prologue: what’s inside?

My hands pluck the things I know that I need. Peaches, creme fraiche, brown sugar, butter and of course, flour. Today’s a simple one. What should I call it? “Simplicity is key pie”. Nope. Might get confused with “Love’s the key lime pie”. “Some things never change pie”. Yup. That’s it.

“Y/N! What’s the special pie today?” Sam yells at me like every other morning. I don’t complain, I like that grumpy weirdo though I would never admit that to his face. I tell him the name of my newest recipe.

“I was having a creative block, you see. But then it struck me! Peaches! PEACHES, SAM!!!” I throw my hands in the air.

“No, I get it. Kinda.” He ignores my excitement but I know he actually understands how peaches are nobody’s favorite,but they’re good, they’re simple and they offer everydayness. Sam and I were in High School together and we both wanted to go to culinary school, so I know he gets me. Neither of us got to make it though, somehow we ended up here. Working at Nick’s Pies in the same town we grew up in, a town where nothing ever happens.

Nick is already at his table, that’s odd. He’s never here this early. Maybe he’s been watching spy movies late at night again. That “old fart” (Nat’s words, not mine) is adorable if you ask me, even if he gets on everybody’s nerves. Wanda’s cleaning the counter, menus and sugar dispensers. Thoroughly cleaning them. And Nat’s late. As always.

I like working here. These people are like family to me. The only one I have left. Oh, except for Quentin, my husband. I’ve been thinking about how he used to be, you know, when we first fell in love. Things have changed over the years. But it’s all fine. I have it good. Better than my mom at least. And I’m grateful for Quentin, I really am. I just wish he would be more, I don’t know, empathetic? Anyway. I have a weird feeling today. As if things were about to change. Let’s hope it will be for the better.

chapter 1: the negative

warning: vomit

Peeling peaches isn’t my favorite part of the pie making process, that’s for sure. I’ve always loved the smell of them, so why are they making me sick now?.

“Someone’s a little fussy today”. Nat says after noticing my state of distress. “Do you need any help, sweetie?” She rounds the table and snatches the peeler from me. “Seriously though, you look pale”.

“I’m fine, Nat. Thank you, but I think I just need some air. I’ll go take Nick’s order”. I walk across to old Nick’s table and he puts his paper down.

“Oh hi, I was wondering when somebody would offer me at least a cup of coffee here. It’s hot, isn’t it? My diner. My own diner doesn’t have any decent air conditioning!” Oh, here we go.

“Sorry, Nick. I’ll tell Sam to fix it, I promise. What can I give you?”

“Well, let’s see. I would like an omelette, with tomato on the side and some fruit salad, on a different plate. And some orange juice. But bring me coffee before you bring the orange juice. And a slice of your… “Some things never change pie”, but bring that after I’m done with my omelette”. It is hot here, he was right. “Oh and also… Jesus, are you okay? You look pale”.

“I’m okay, Nick”. Oh god. “I think I just… need to… restroom”. I almost collapse with Wanda on the way to the ladies room and throw my arms around the toilet in the span of ten seconds.

“Y/N! Honey, you okay in there?” I hear Wanda’s voice, or was it Nat’s. Oh here it comes again. “Gosh, I’m washing this stall right after she’s done, we don’t want any patrons catching whatever she’s got”. Wanda. Definitely Wanda.

“Oh scoot! She doesn’t need you being a neat freak right now, Wanda”. Mother Nat scolding the children.

“I’m okay girls, I may have had a bad sandwich from the gas station last night. That’s it” I wash my hands and mouth over the sink while the girls fuss around me. “Really, everything’s… oh shit”... and here it comes again. I don’t even know if I have anything left inside that actually needs to come out.

Wanda rubs my back gently and says “Honey? Um, when was the last time you got your period?” After I’m done emptying my guts I do the math. “Shit. No, this can’t be happening.” I can feel my heart in my throat. I’m not ready for this. I can’t be.

“Y/N, time to pee on a stick!” Nat helps me up and calls Peter, the diner’s delivery guy. “Okay, Parker, time to be the hero. I need you to go to the drug store and buy a pregnancy test. Here’s twenty bucks, keep the change and don’t tell a soul about this or I’ll have your head, ya hear me?”

Two lines. Two pink stupid lines and I’m out of my body. I’m packing my things and going on a plane far from the diner, far from Quentin Beck and his beer smelling, curse yelling, guitar playing ass!

“I thought you don’t sleep with your husband much anymore”. Wanda is brushing my hair with her fingers.

“Stop it, I think she’s in shock”. Nat is washing the test stick. God bless her, she thinks I want to keep it. I shudder, still a little dizzy.

“Shut up, I’m inventing a new pie in my head. Tomorrow’s special. I’ll call it “I don’t want Quentin’s baby pie”. I take my little notebook out of my apron and start writing ingredients down.

“I don’t think we can put that on the menu board, Y/N”.

“You could still leave Quentin, you know? If you can bake 27 different kinds of pies every day, you can do it.”

“You’re funny, Nat. I don’t want a baby right now, but above all, I don’t want a fatherless baby. Girls, I can’t do this on my own. And please don’t tell Sam or Nick yet”. They both grab my arms and Wanda leans on my shoulder.

“Hey, we ain’t saying a word to anyone but we’ve talked about this. Quentin isn’t a good husband, you know that. You think he’ll be a good father?”

“You could come and live with me! It’s a studio but-” I cut Wanda off.

“Okay, girls, enough. Nat, I know he’s difficult sometimes but he’s going through a rough time, he’s in between jobs and I couldn’t do that to him. And Wands, you’re very sweet, but thank you. I’ll figure it out”.

chapter 2: what baking can do

I already have chapters 2-4 written, so expect them soon. Thoughts?

#bucky x reader #doctor!bucky #waitress!reader #waitress au #waitress musical #bucky barnes #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #sam wilson #steve rogers #nick fury #quentin beck #Sebastian Stan #fluff #bucky fluff #she used to be mine #chapter 1 #nina writes

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disneydreamlights · 4 years

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Anidala Fic Recs

I got asked for fic recs for these. NSFW will be in a private post (that I’ll make later GOING THROUGH YOUR AO3 HISTORY IS TEDIOUS) for easy DMing purposes. All recs under a read more.

So first for authors:

Just about anything by SkywalkersAmidala and Gemma’s Writing (@gemmaswriting)

Everything I’ve read by them is absolutely fantastic, and believe me, I’ve read pretty much everything from them. Multiple times in some cases. They’re just very good. SkywalkersAmidala in most cases writes more silly lighthearted AUs and Gemma’s Writing does a bit of everything, all of which are good.

Padme Lives/Anakin Doesn’t Fall:

(Anything on my Vaderdala fic recs list, you need Padme alive for Vaderdala)

Precipice by Shadowsong26

An AU in which Anakin Skywalker does not follow Mace Windu and the others to Palpatine’s office after they leave to arrest the Chancellor. As a result, he doesn’t get that final push over the edge, and doesn’t Fall.

(Padme returns to the Senate with Luke, Anakin to lead the Rebels with Leia. Things get better is the absolute best way to summary this one.)

To These Memories by KatieRoseFun

After Darth Sidious is defeated, everything changes. Some for the better, others not so much. Mostly better though. (Or: Anakin becomes a dad. Rex rehabilitates clone troopers who no longer want to be a part of the army. Ahsoka gets a call from an old friend. And maybe Obi-Wan finds out it’s not just his enemies who don’t stay dead. Basically, everyone gets the happy ending they deserve.)

Pocket Full of Sand Verse by Philthestone

Anakin goes missing, Padme is captured, and this causes Leia Skywalker and Luke Amidala to meet.

Clash of Fates by AliceBDS (In Progress)

Sometimes, the course of life is changed with one decision.

When Ahsoka Tano requests the help of her former master in liberating Mandalore, a twist of destiny sends them to Coruscant to rescue Chancellor Palpatine instead, altering the course of galactic history forever.

When Dead Men Walk by Ellapromachos

Anakin hesitates just a few minutes longer, and the entire galaxy is better for it.

or; Anakin is at the Temple for Order 66, but not as Darth Vader. And when Palpatine comes for him, he plays his cards just a little bit better. He digs his heels in, and prepares for the long con.

My Loyalties Lie by Stranestelle (In Progress)

When Anakin initially rejects Palpatine's offer to 'help' him, the Sith Lord, in a rare moment of hastiness, ships him off to Kamino to have a control chip implanted.

Nobody Needs to Know by Elizaham8957

The twins are born in the middle of the Clone Wars, and Anakin and Padmé try to continue hiding the fact that they're married and now have two children.

Nobody buys it. Like, seriously, nobody.

Hunter by Zinoviev

Leia is offered a chance to escape Bespin when Boba Fett enlists her help to prevent Luke from falling into Vader's clutches. She has plenty of questions, however. Who is this mysterious bounty hunter, and what does he want with her friend?

The Bantha in the Room by Estrangedlestrange

concept: anakin sitting in the council room bouncing baby luke on his knees as he adamantly denies having children or attachments

Time Travel:

Stand the Hazard of the Die by KeelieThompson1

Baby Luke is sent back in time by Obi-Wan to the prequel era. Needless to say, things change.

Just One Wish by LadyVader23

On a trip to Dathomir, Anakin Skywalker finds a spell that will grant him one wish. Anxious to return home, he wishes for a way to end the war. As a result, he ends up accidentally kidnapping his future children...moments after they've escaped Bespin. Luke is quite done dealing with his mess of a father, and Leia is convinced telling the future Darth Vader about the future will only make it worse. Desperate, Anakin calls in the only person they might listen to: Padme Amidala. Too bad Padme has a surprise of her own...

Temper With the Stars by Pipionem

After being pulled through the World between Worlds, Ahsoka finds herself in the final days of the Clone Wars, on a Separatist ship holding the recently kidnapped Supreme Chancellor Palpatine. Saving the galaxy from the horrors to come is a lot to get done in a week, but Ahsoka has lost everything before - this time, she won't let that happen. Of course, that doesn't mean it's going to be easy.

Skywalker Family Fics:

Skywalker Family Values by Ariel_Sojourner

Camp Chippewa is proud to be the Empire’s foremost camp resort for privileged young adults. Located on the picturesque forest moon of Endor, your child will have the opportunity to participate in wholesome outdoor activities and socialize appropriately with their peers. We invite your offspring to join us for the experience of a lifetime and a bright future in service of the greater glory of the Empire.

On opposite sides of the galaxy, on opposite sides of a civil war, Darth Vader and Padme Amidala unwittingly send Luke and Leia to the same camp during school break. Chaos naturally ensues.

Mild AU:

Desideratum by Sithanakin (In Progress)

As a young Initiate in the midst of a childish crush, Padmé had always dreamt of Anakin Skywalker becoming her Master. But she was to turn thirteen too early for that to be possible.

Then, at sixteen, she loses her Master in the battle of Geonosis. In the confusion of all her grief, she does not expect newly-knighted Anakin Skywalker to offer to take her on as his Padawan.

The Wise Thing by Stranestelle

Warning: Very dark, not happy ending.

Padmé Amidala may not be all she seems. Anakin Skywalker wears his heart on his sleeve. People have crushes every day, it’s not the end of the world. Is it?

or, if you will, a sith!Padmé AU

Bonded by Betts

(Okay I’ll out myself slightly with smut but just one on my mostly SFW recs.)

Padmé had always been better at the mental half of the Jedi code—coercion, manipulation, meditation. Anakin had always been better at the physical half—beating shit up with his lightsaber.

Heirs to the Empire by Aldojlc

Alternate Universe. En route to Endor, Luke, Leia, and Han during the events of ROTJ find themselves transported into a different universe and a different Empire, with a different Vader.

Heavy AUs:

(it’s not so bad) being dead like me by Estrangedlestrange

Recently deceased Anakin Skywalker (killed in an taco truck explosion) finds himself not in the after life but recruited as the newest member of the undead, he’s become a grim reaper. He’s told that it’s his destiny but really he thinks it’s just rotten luck. Rotten except for the fact that one of his fellow reapers is Padmé Amidala, the most beautiful woman Anakin’s has seen, dead or alive. As he struggles to come to grips with his death and his new role in the universe, Anakin finds that taking souls isn’t the easiest job out there, he also finds himself falling in love.

Skyborn by Silverdaye

Senator Padmé Amidala enjoys spending her time in a bookstore, one made of real flimsi books where each one costs a small fortune. It is there she meets a strange man, Anakin Skywalker, who is searching for long forgotten planet, Kesh. 4,500 years ago a ship crashed on Kesh. The survivors told the natives they were their gods, the Skyborn. Anakin is one of them.

For Even the Very Wise Cannot See All Ends by UncorrectGrammar

When people think of Anakin Skywalker, they think of the Chosen One, the Hero With No Fear. They think of an accomplished duelist, of the best flyer in Hogwarts, of the prophesized savior of the wizarding world.

They don’t think of gardens diligently kept or dirt under fingernails.

Or: Anakin Skywalker and his legacy. Hogwarts AU.

General Prequel Era (Non Anidala Centric, but still contain Anidala)

Like Fire In Our Bones by AcuteNeurosis

With all of the most important things in the galaxy literally exploding around her, Leia is given the chance to go back and help keep a promise she never personally made.

But then, for Skywalkers, saving the galaxy was always a family matter.

Well It Goes Like This by Corde_and_Dorme

At the end of it all, the thing is: Palpatine breaks his heart.

(or the one where Anakin makes the hard choice, the right choice, the other choice. Then he keeps making it.)

Vode An by Epsiloneridani

There are millions of lives on the line, clone and Jedi alike. Every second brings them one step closer to the chip's activation - one step closer to the endgame. The truth is shrouded in secrecy and clouded by doubt. The clock's ticking down.

It's a race against time.

Fives is gone. Echo finds the courage to ask why.

Bonus: ObiAnidala

For We Are A Woven Thread; Find the Strand by Shadowsong26

The night before Obi-Wan was to leave for Utapau, he and Anakin and Padme agreed that, regardless of the Council's orders, Anakin should go as well. They split up over the course of the battle--and when Order 66 is given, they cannot find one another in the chaos; Padme, on Coruscant, is left with the knowledge that neither of them is coming back.

This story covers the next four years in their lives; how they survived and coped with the loss; how they began to fight back--and how they found their way home.

#Star Wars #Anakin #Padme #Anidala

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spiderman-homecomeme · 3 years

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nuts about you

It’s simple. Thirty days. All of November. No nutting allowed. Can Peter survive? A friends/roommates to lovers tale of stupid bets, sabotage, and most important of all, nuts.

thotumn. day 11. free prompt day finale.

Thank you @spideysmjs for organizing this magical month for us!! Because I am TOO impatient, I’m posting this a day early (also to keep my tradition of not posting things at the right time). Enjoy this purely goofy adventure.

Of all of the stupid ideas Peter and Ned have thought of in their ten-plus years of friendship, this one’s up there.

Easily in the top three.

No, it’s more than stupid. It’s ridiculous. It’s pointless. No one in their right mind actually thinks this is a good idea or that there’s any reason to do it. It’s an internet joke that’s too old, a meme that has no right being funny anymore. It’s run its course, and the guise of it raising awareness for anything other than the masturbation habits of penis-havers is complete and utter bullshit.

Again. It’s stupid.

Still, Peter Parker is not one to turn down a challenge, no matter how stupid. He’s nothing if not competitive. What can he say? If he won’t do it, who will?

This is what he considers as Ned lays it on the table for him.

All of November. Thirty days.

Peter doesn’t know how the conversation even started or how they ended up betting against each other in the world’s most moronic challenge. All he knows is that Ned is more than convinced that Peter is weak and won’t last. In fact, he’s so convinced that he’s willing to bet money on it. His reasoning ends up being that Peter isn’t strong enough.

And Peter? Well, he’s convinced that he will make it, that he can survive an entire month without giving in to his desires to bust a nut, to beat his meat, etc. etc. And he, too, is willing to bet money—a stupid amount, maybe more than a hundred—on his own success and his friend’s failure. He doesn’t want to appear too cocky, but he’s more than a hundred percent sure he’s got this in the bag. Yeah, it’s thirty days of cutting out one of Peter’s favorite pastimes—if not the favorite—but there’s no doubt in his mind that he’s more than capable of practicing a little restraint.

Still, confident as he is, there’s still that part of him that can’t help but dread the coming month the more and more he thinks about it.

“So, definitely thirty days?” Peter asks, eyes narrowing in thought. He tries to appear casual, as if the idea of no release for that amount of time isn’t a big deal. It’s more for clarification. “November has thirty days?”

Ned scoffs. “Yeah. Thirty days.”

“Any strikes? Any free coupons?”

“Nope.” Ned shakes his head with a soul-crushing finality. “Why? You don’t think you can make it?”

It’s Peter’s turn to scoff, face scrunching dramatically as he recoils. “What? No. I’m worried about you, man. What are you gonna do about Betty?”

Ned fixes him with a deadpan stare, clearly not buying whatever bullshit Peter’s trying to peddle. “A bet is a bet. She will respect that.”

“How can I trust you, though?” Peter asks, eyes narrowing in slight accusation. “You’re always at her place. I mean, how’ll I know you’re not lying?”

Ned glares. “How can I trust you?”

Peter sputters, desperately thinking of ways to throw a reverse Uno at this situation. “Wha—I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m—I’m single, man.”

Ned blinks. Once. Twice. “Do we need to talk about Felicia?”

“That was—”

“Cindy?”

“Dude—”

“Johnny? Jessica? Gwen—”

“I get it. I get it—”

“Carlie? Oh—Debbie? Caleb! Then there was Angela—”

Peter’s expression contorts into one of confusion. “Angela?” He tilts his head, squinting, searching for any kind of memory.

“Cute red head. You met her in line at Aldi.”

“Ahhh…” A knowing, borderline too-telling smile of recognition pulls at Peter’s lips. “Angela...” he sighs, almost dreamily. Okay, so maybe Ned has a point. But just because Peter enjoys the company of other people so much that he’s got his own version of Mambo No. 5, doesn’t mean he’s incapable of living without the warm touch of another human being or his hand.

Peter freezes, glancing at his friend. “Okay. Well. What do you want me to do about that? It’s not like I’m gonna call any of them up or anything. I have some sense of self-control.”

Again, Ned blinks.

“And besides, Felicia was freshman year… she’s our friend now. I don’t hook-up with her anymore.”

Another blink. “Dude.”

“Fine.” Peter huffs, whipping his phone out, eyes nearly rolling out of their sockets and onto the floor as he starts swiping through his contacts. “But I’m not deleting any of ‘em, okay?”

“Peter…”

“I’ll change their names! How ‘bout that?”

A beat passes of silent, overtly-judgmental staring on Ned’s part. He huffs after another second, throwing his hands up in defeat. “Fine.” Then, his frown shifts into a nonchalant smirk. “Whatever makes it easier for you to lose and me to win.”

“Please,” Peter scoffs. “I’m not the one with a girlfriend. You’re going down.” He tilts his head, narrowing his eyes, lips pursed in mock-contemplation as he points a finger. “Or I guess… Betty’s the one going down.”

Ned nearly chokes on his water holding back a snort. “Come on, man.”

Peter shrugs.

“Okay, well, are you gonna change the contact name for your right hand, too?”

It’s Peter’s turn to spit out a laugh.

But before he can even come up with another totally awesome comeback, he hears the jingling of keys, the clanking of locks as their roommate comes home after a long day of classes. All he sees is a flash of her curly hair before he’s tearing his gaze away from the front door, suddenly finding the pads of his thumbs to be pretty damn interesting.

“Hey, MJ,” Ned greets casually, as if they weren’t just sorting out a bet where neither of them are allowed to orgasm for an entire month.

“‘Sup.” Michelle flashes them a brief, closed-mouth grin as she makes for the refrigerator, swiping up some baby carrots and the brita filter.

Really, the conversation from earlier should be done there. Nothing else needs to be said. Especially not in front of their roommate.

But Peter can’t help himself.

“Let’s shake on it,” he says, putting his hand out, knowing that the more he keeps talking, the more danger he’s in of saying too much.

Ned takes it readily, eyes narrowed in determination. “Let’s.”

The corner of Peter’s lip twitches upward, but he holds it back. “No… Peanuts.”

“No walnuts.”

They have that understanding, speaking in the code that the two of them have just made up on the spot, something that Peter can’t help but feel pretty damn proud of.

MJ glances between the two, carrot half-way to her mouth, frozen in place, brows pinched in suspicion.

“Peter and I are giving up all nuts for the next month,” Ned says proudly, answering the question that she most certainly did not ask.

“Cool.”

Ned throws a not-as-subtle-as-he-thinks-it-is wink across the table, giving a just as subtle thumbs up from behind one of his stray history books.

Peter nods.

“Why?” Michelle asks, her question—one that shouldn’t have been as much of a surprise at is was—causing them both to exchange wary glances.

There’s a silence that follows, one that might clearly show that these two guys have no idea what kind of hole they’ve dug themselves into. Ned watches Peter expectantly. Peter glares back.

“Is it like a health thing?” MJ offers, popping another carrot into her mouth.

Peter nods a little too quickly. “Yeah. Health stuff.” His stomach flips when her gaze meets his, her eyes squinting as she chews thoughtfully.

“May thinks Peter might have a nut allergy,” Ned hastily spits out. When both sets of eyes land on him, he laughs. “So his allergist suggested going a month without ‘em. To see if that makes it better.”

And honestly, Peter thinks that’s a pretty damn good save.

The best part is that MJ seems to buy it. She nods. “So why are you doing it, Ned?”

“Solidarity,” Ned offers quickly.

Nice save.

“Ah,” MJ purses her lips, though she still doesn’t seem to care all that much. “Well, good luck. I guess. I know how much you guys… love… nuts? I guess?”

Peter nods solemnly.

When she turns back to grab a cup from the cabinet, he throws Ned a quick single nod.

Well played.

“So, Peter’s doing no nut November.”

Felicia nearly chokes, snorting as she struggles to keep her vanilla latte in her mouth. “What?” She asks after a dangerous second. They were supposed to be having a nice study sesh, reading about Bloom’s taxonomy, not talking about Peter’s nut habits.

“He and Ned made a stupid bet to see who could last the whole month,” MJ answers, taking a quiet sip of her London Fog. “Apparently they bet a lot of money on it.”

Felicia’s face scrunches in amused confusion. “Why?”

“Do they really need a reason to do dumb shit?”

Considering that for a second, Felicia nods with a satisfied frown. “Fair.”

“I bet against Peter, though,” MJ continues. “After he left, I made Ned let me in on it. There’s no way Pete can last the whole month, right? Not even a week.”

“Oh, definitely not,” Felicia vehemently shook her head. “I honestly feel like he’d spontaneously combust after, like, a day.” Then, she lets out a quiet snort. “Combust a nut.”

Michelle wrinkles her nose. “Ew.”

“But for real. He’s not gonna make it.”

“That’s what I said. Ned seems to have some faith in him though—no idea why. I told him that Peter wouldn’t even last a week… and now I guess I’m involved.”

“This would be so easy to sabotage though.”

“Right?”

“Seriously,” Felicia snorts. “All I’d have to do is hit him up one more time and he’s gone.” And then, in that next instant, her face lights up like a Christmas tree. “That’s it!” Before she says anything else, she’s pulling her phone out, quickly scrolling through, looking for God knows what. “Girl, I am gonna win that bet for you.”

MJ leans forward, curious, yet still cautious. She’s not sure if Peter hooking up again with Felicia is the best idea, given that relations within the friend group would just make things a giant, tangled up mess of complicated awkwardness. “How?” Michelle dares to ask, craning her neck to see what the hell Felicia’s doing on her phone.

Her friend is quiet for a moment, locked in concentration on her screen, bottom lip tucked between her teeth, brows knit together. Then, she cracks a satisfied, sly smile, turning her phone to show MJ just what she was looking for.

Simply; a picture of Felicia’s relatively new tattoo which, in and of itself, doesn’t seem like it would get Peter’s peter going. It’s pretty. Floral. Nothing to lose one’s mind over.

No, it’s more the placement.

It’s a tasteful shot, the simple flowers lining the underside of her breasts, her hands acting as makeshift pasties, just barely covering her nipples.

Still, though there’s no actual nudity, it’s enough to make MJ’s eyes bug out of her head for a moment before she’s realizing what she’s looking at.

“Okay. So?” Michelle waits for an explanation.

“I send him this,” Felicia says simply, pulling her phone back and (seemingly) drafting up the very message. “Ask if he wants a closer look at it.”

Michelle considers it a moment, knowing that there’s a very strong chance that Peter could almost immediately fall into such an obvious trap. The corners of her lips twitch into a casual frown. She shrugs. “Honestly. Yeah. That might work.”

“Might?” Felicia almost scoffs.

“You’re a genius.”

A smirk tugs at Felicia’s mouth as she leans back in her chair, swiping up to send the message before putting the phone down on the table. “I know.”

They sit in silence, the two of them watching the screen with bated breath. They both gasp when the read receipt pops up, followed by a dead silence. MJ can only imagine how stressed that boy must be, opening his phone, thinking it’s an innocent text from Felicia, then BAM, he’s vibe-checked by her boobs instead.

She holds back a snort, her stomach jumping into her throat seeing the dot-dot-dot pop up at the bottom of the screen. It’s almost as if she forgets to breathe, waiting to see what he’s going to say to such a blatant come on.

It’s like he’s typing a damn novel with how long it’s taking him though, and Michelle’s not sure she can take it much longer.

And then, her phone dings.

Felicia’s lips pull into a frown reading the message. “‘Wow. Looks cool! No thanks, though.’ Aaaaand,” she spins her phone for MJ to read it. “Thumbs-up emoji. Smiley face with sunglasses.”

Even MJ’s surprised at that response. Maybe Peter is really taking this No Nut November thing seriously. Maybe he’s not as weak as she thought. But… it doesn’t make any sense. Nothing’s adding up.

And with this confusion, there’s a sense of relief, knowing his response. Waiting wasn’t fun.

“Huh.” Felicia sighs, biting her lip in thought as she starts typing out another message and sending it.

“What did you say?” Michelle asks.

“I told him I’d been thinking about getting my nipples pierced and wanted to know what he thought.”

At that, Michelle snorts. “You’re an evil woman.”

Felicia shrugs innocently. “I think he’d really like ‘em.”

Truly, it’s a genius move. It’s something that Peter has to address; Felicia’s nipples. The idea of them being pierced. It’s too much for his brain to handle.

And again, just like before, they get into a staring contest with the conversation, watching as the read receipt pops up again, immediately followed by the ever-cruel ellipses as Peter no doubt struggles with a response that’s not too-eager.

But then, he completely throws them for another loop.

“‘I support you, friend!’ with…” Her eyes narrow. “A smiley face.”

“Wow,” Michelle says, genuinely surprised.

And Felicia seems just as shocked, if not a little offended that one of her oldest tricks in the book seem to have no effect whatsoever. “Did he just… friendzone me?” She asks, absolutely appalled.

“You were already friends before?” Michelle laughs.

“But in this context?” She huffs, shaking her head. A beat passes where all she does is stare at her phone. “That’s weird,” she says slowly, lips quirking into a confused frown. “Huh.”

“There, there,” Michelle deadpans, patting her friend stiffly on the hand.

Felicia laughs. “It’s fine…” She draws out. “A hit to the ego is good for me every once in a while.”

“Oh my God,” MJ rolls her eyes. “You’re still hot. Don’t worry.”

With a sad, a little over-dramatic nod, Felicia’s frown deepens as she pretends to wipe at her eyes. “Yeah. I am.”

“I can’t believe that didn’t work,” MJ muses. Really, she can’t. Peter’s perhaps the easiest person she knows—and there’s nothing wrong with that at all; it’s just a fact of life. The sky is blue. Grass is green. Peter is a thot.

“I guess he’s really following through with this whole no nut thing…” Felicia’s brow furrows as she recoils. “How much money did he bet anyway?”

“A hundred.”

“Oh my God.”

“Yeah.”

“How much did you put in?”

“...A hundred.”

“MJ!”

“Listen!” Michelle reasons, holding her hands up in defense. “This is gonna be the easiest two hundred dollars I’ve ever made.”

Felicia sits back, clearly impressed. “Does Peter know you’re in on it?”

“Nope,” MJ says, emphasizing the ‘p’ with an audible pop.

“Well—” Felicia starts, shifting in her seat, crossing one leg over the other. “—I’m sure you’ll find some way to make that boy give in. Sorry I couldn’t help.”

Michelle lets out a light snort. “It’s okay. You tried.”

“If I think of anything else, I’ll let you know.”

But honestly, MJ already has a vague idea of what her next step is.

And it brings her to his bedroom, to his desk, messing with his laptop while he’s out for his Sunday patrol. His password is entirely too easy to guess—really, you’d think a guy as smart as Peter would have something a little more complicated than “webshooter69.”

If there’s anything she knows about Peter—maybe a little too much about her friend—is that while he mostly enjoys the company of a flesh and blood human being, he’s not above the occasional perusing of adult websites.

The guy likes porn.

The plan is to make his chrome homepage one of his regular sites. Confront him with the images that really get him going.

She browses through his history, hoping that he hadn’t thought to delete everything or go incognito. And… luckily for her, that particular idea seemed to have slipped his mind entirely. Literally not even a week out and she’s found a slightly-more-than-nefarious-looking website.

Easy enough.

And it’s exactly what she’s looking for. Nudity galore. There doesn’t seem to be a corner of the site that doesn’t have a boob or a butt. It is truly Peter’s domain.

For a moment, she wonders if she should make the homepage specifically something he searches for… his favorite genre perhaps.

She shakes the thought away immediately. It’s too invasive. Besides, the front page should be more than enough—there’s literally a video that frustratingly autoplays every time she goes back to that one page. And why would she need to know what Peter likes? There’s no reason for that. At all.

Making sure to close out of everything before logging out, she slams the laptop shut, sprinting out of his room as if he was just about to get home. Her heart races as she slams her own bedroom door behind her, catching her breath proving to be more difficult than usual.

And now, she waits.

It turns out, she doesn’t have to wait very long.

That evening, in fact, after Peter’s come back for dinner.

He takes his time microwaving his leftovers from the day before, whistling to himself as he bounces around the kitchen. The whole time it feels like MJ’s just holding her breath, anticipating his early demise the instant he opens up chrome on his laptop. And honestly, this does feel like a low blow, like she’s just snatching up that low-hanging fruit—God, MJ, phrasing—but then she’s reminded that this, again, is the easiest two hundred dollars she will ever earn.

And then she feels a little less bad about what she’s done.

The second he’s finished with his food and disappears into his room, her eyes are on his door, and then it occurs to her that there’s not really a way that she can know he’s, well, “lost.” It’s all based on his own honor, if he’ll admit to succumbing to his most basic need. She likes to think that he would, though. Peter’s too much of a good, honest guy—hiding his secret identity aside—that he couldn’t lie to his friends about it.

Ned comes home not two minutes later, deflating on the other side of the couch.

“Rough day?” MJ asks, the teasing hint to her tone not going unnoticed.

Ned rolls his eyes. “Told Betty I was doing this whole month thing.”

MJ winced. “Yikes.”

“Yeah,” Ned chuckles.

“Well, if it helps, this whole thing is probably gonna end in—” she checks her phone. “—five or so minutes.”

Ned’s gaze darts right and left. “What… What do you mean?”

Before she can answer, Peter yelps from the other side of his door. There’s a loud crash that sounds suspiciously like a laptop being yeeted across the room in a hasty, knee-jerk reaction. Before either she or Ned can move, Peter’s bursting through his door, eyes blown wide, his face drained of all color, and he’s frozen in place, one hand gripping the doorframe.

And it takes everything in her not to grin. “Everything okay?”

Peter coughs, scratching the back of his neck, before his gaze lands on Ned in a challenging glare. “DUDE. Not cool.”

Poor Ned looks as confused as ever, his jaw dropping, brows pinching together as he glances between the two. “I—What—what are you talking about?”

Peter narrows his eyes even more.

“Did I hear something break?” MJ asks carefully, as not to seem too suspicious.

He startles at her voice, sputtering out a response that mostly sounds like the macaroni glue art of sentences. “Oh—uh—no. It—It was the—the laptop. There was—a thing. And—I just kinda—threw it.” He laughs nervously. “It’s fine though. Not—not broken. All good—” He throws some finger guns. “—in the hood.”

Her lips twist as she nods.

Peter nods back, hands in his back pockets as he starts to retreat back into his room—though not before throwing another I’m watching you glare at Ned.

As soon as the door clicks shut, Ned’s in full interrogation mode.

“MJ, what did you do?”

She shrugs, toying with the loose thread of her hoodie. “Nothing much. Just… Set his default homepage to some porn. No biggie.”

Ned’s jaw drops, thoroughly scandalized, but there’s a hint of amusement behind his eyes. “Dude… That’s evil.”

Michelle gives another shrug.

So, her second plan had failed. Even after surprise-porn, Peter’s still in the running. He’s still holding out. Almost a two days into November, and he is surviving, a surprise to everyone involved, and already, MJ’s running out of ideas. Well, good—plausible ideas. There are plenty of ways she’s sure she could compromise him. Take him to a strip-club maybe, but there’s not a doubt in her mind that he’d be able to pick up on what she was doing. There’s no way he’d fall for it.

Hiring an escort was definitely out of the question.

Theoretically, both of those could work. Were they good plans? No. Absolutely not.

He’s already turned down a previous hook-up. He broke his laptop out of the sheer panic that seeing porn brought him.

There doesn’t seem to be much more that she can do.

It’s not until the next day, as she’s walking the clothing section of Target with Felicia that she’s struck with an idea.

Felicia specifically striking her with said idea.

They’re in the middle of the sleepwear section, MJ mindlessly rifling through the fuzzy sock bin, when she nearly collides with the underwear display. She’s distracted for a moment, wondering if it’s too soon since she’s bought new underwear to justify taking advantage of the sale, when Felicia nudges her with her elbow.

“Peter’s really into pretty underwear,” she says as if they’re not in the middle of Target. As if there’s not a mom and two kids in the actual pajama section two displays over.

Michelle recoils slightly, startled. “What?”

“He’s like, really into it,” she says, taking a casual sip of her iced coffee, reaching over to pick up a particularly lacy number. “Just saying. Might be useful.”

For some reason, MJ feels a strange heat rise to her cheeks. “I’m not gonna put these on for him!”

Felicia smirks, holding a hand up in defense. “Who said anything about you wearing it? You can just… leave it lying around for him to find, or something.” She tilts her head to the side, both brows raising. “Jeez, MJ.”

“Oh…” Michelle says, though her face still burns. “Right.”

It’s not a bad idea. In fact, it’s pretty good. If Peter’s as into fancy underwear as Felicia says he is, then maybe leaving them around like some kind of weird scavenger hunt is the best plan. She doesn’t buy much, picking a pair of relatively cheap lace and polyester. She could use her own underwear for this, but… that would be weird right?

(As if this isn’t weird enough already.)

And besides, the ones she’s buying are a little more extra in that department. They aren’t meant to be worn for long, not from comfort.

They’re perfect.

She feels like some kind of underwear fairy, planting them somewhere in the apartment, making sure they’re hidden, yet visible in a place that Peter frequents; it sticks up between the couch cushions, not subtle in the slightest. The second Peter’s butt hits that couch, he’ll see them. There’s no other way around it.

It becomes another waiting game as she sits in the living chair, knees curled into her chest as she pretends to read quietly. It’s pretend because she can’t focus long enough on any single letter to let her brain absorb anything on the pages. Finally, the front door opens. Peter greets her with a cheery smile, making immediately for the kitchen.

Good. Yes. He gets his after class snack. Important.

Just as she’d planned.

He emerges not two minutes later, bag of cheese crackers in hand as he launches himself over the back of the couch. “‘Sup?” he asks after shoving a mouthful of Cheez-its into his face.

Michelle wrinkles her nose, her eyes unconsciously darting between the guy on the couch and the panties peeking out from the cushions. “Reading,” she offers, brandishing the very unread book.

Peter nods, tearing his gaze from hers after a beat and reaching for the remote. When he sits back, his hand brushes the cheap lace and he pauses, curious as he looks down to see what he touched.

All of this while MJ desperately pretends not to notice.

When he picks the pair up though, his brows pinch together, at first unsure as to what he’s actually looking at. “Uh…”

At that, MJ looks up, seeing right as the realization sets in.

Of course, she plays dumb—by staying silent.

Peter quickly looks to her, eyes wide as if he’s seen a ghost. “It’s—it’s not—these aren’t—” His lips press together as he forces a breath through his nose. “I—Oh god—”

And then, for a split-second, she feels the slightest bit guilty. Is this actually a good plan or is she just tricking him into getting a boner over cheap department store undies? That, and is she technically lying to him by not claiming the offending undergarments? By making him freak out over nothing?

He seems to be having some sort of existential crisis, wondering if these really are from some recent hook-up and the psychological effect of not nutting in three days has caused him to forget.

This was a terrible idea.

She has to put him out of his misery.

“Oh, shit. Those—” Her laugh is breathy, short. “—Those are mine.”

And instantly, Peter drops the thong, as if his hands had been burned. “Oh!” he coughs, his gaze straining as if he’s trying to keep his eyes on her face. “S—Sorry.” He swallows.

“Yeah.” Rising on legs that are shaky—from sitting so oddly in the chair for so long—she goes to snatch up the baby pink lace, clutching it behind her back before Peter can get another look. “Sorry. Must’ve forgot. Uh, when I did… Laundry.”

Peter nods, breathing out a chuckle. “Yeah. Yeah. S’fine.” He waves her off, scratching the back of his neck.

But even after that, Peter still seems off. For some reason, he still doesn’t seem to be able to look at her for more than a split-second. He doesn’t say anything else, sitting in silence, his cheese crackers long forgotten on the coffee table.

Michelle wonders if she should say something else. Break the tension. It’s awkward, obviously, because he feels weird about touching his friend’s underwear. Anyone would, really. He touched something that theoretically would be on her body; something that normally, he thinks is really sexy, or whatever.

After another minute of some good old soul-crushing silence, Peter stands, excusing himself to his room without another word.

Huh. Weird.

It’s the movie night that finally gives her that clarity she’s been looking for; that moment where everything clicks into place, and she can finally see how she’s going to win this.

Ned’s out with Betty, leaving her and Peter alone not for the first time.

She and Peter are sitting on the couch together, her head resting on his shoulder—because that’s what friends do, obviously—the two of them sharing a gray fuzzy blanket. This is a normal occurrence. They’re close enough in their friendship that some occasional cuddling isn’t too weird. Especially given how chilly it’s been lately. And, it’s comfy. Just some nice head-to-shoulder contact.

But later in the movie, when MJ starts to get dangerously sleepy, feeling herself drooping further and further, unable to completely pull herself back to reality. Things are fuzzy, almost dreamlike, as she just pulls herself up from his shoulder, giving up entirely on watching the movie and just grumpily laying down right on his lap, his thigh her make-shift pillow.

This isn’t weird.

It’s normal.

She’s sleepy.

And Peter’s a surprisingly comfy pillow.

Peter doesn’t even have time to ask what she’s doing before she’s just nestling further into his lap. She misses the pure dread and panic that flashes across his face when her head lines up with his head. There’s no safety here. Just a few wrong movements, and she’ll definitely know what’s up. She’ll be an unwitting tourist to Boner City, population: one.

Peter has to do something. He can’t let this continue. Having his best friends head just straight up on his crotch is not helpful in the slightest.

“MJ,” he gently nudges her, grimacing slightly when she just burrows further into him.

He nudges her again, and she grumbles, finally opening her eyes and looking up at him. She puts a hand on his thigh to steady herself.

Peter swallows.

“What?” She asks, not opening her eyes.

“I uh—” Peter can’t seem to speak, trying desperately to come up with some excuse as to why he has to get the fuck out of there. “—I gotta pee.”

She cracks an eye open skeptically. “But I’m comfy,” she emphasizes her point by—once again—snuggling her face into his lap.

Peter’s about to lose his damn mind.

In MJ’s defense, this had started with the best intentions. She truly was just wanting to lay down and sleep on her friends lap—again, a perfectly normal thing—but now… even through the haze of sleep, she’s seeing how much this is effecting him.

It hadn’t occurred to her until now, that she could be the one that makes him “crack.” They’re just friends. Sure, she thinks he’s attractive, and yeah, maybe she’s had the one or two or three sexy dreams about him before (even some soft, fluffy ones), but that doesn’t mean she thinks about him in that way.

He's just Peter.

Sweet, adorable, kinda hot Peter.

Again, she doesn't think about him that way.

But she supposes it makes sense. Really, she should have known before putting her head on his crotch that he might get a little flustered from the proximity, that it might remind him of certain things. It's just the body's physiological reaction to a stimulus; the stimulus being her head. It's simple science.

So then, it would also only make sense for her to take advantage of that physiological response she's able to get out of him. Maybe not right at this second, given she's been a little blindsided by this whole thing. But maybe now she can rethink her gameplan. Now she has access to tools she didn't know she had access to before.

Her own sensuality.

She can certainly use that.

And it's not as if she'll do anything too out there. Just... make him feel the heat—the pressure—just a little bit. Make him sweat.

Felicia's of course delighted by this development, giving her full support in "seducing Parker into busting a nut."

(Her words, not MJ's.)

She'd also said something about how it's about time, but that'd been promptly ignored—mainly because MJ didn't know what the hell Felicia was talking about.

The problem is now, though, Michelle's not exactly sure where to start. After Peter had made a dead sprint to the bathroom the night before, he's been a little more, shall we say, cautious, around her. He bounces on his feet, trying desperately to appear casual, acting as if nothing was weird about their movie night.

She only has three days left in the week, so she has to think.

And fast.

Peter's not sure if MJ's up to something, but he can't help but feel as though she's acting... strange. First, the underwear thing, which made him feel all kinds of flustered and weird, and then her head being dangerously close to his dick. It's a lot. She can't possibly know about this No Nut thing, right? She wasn't there, and Ned wouldn't have told her... right?

Still, he tries to avoid her as much as he can, ready to fly away the second she's in the same room as him.

Truthfully, he's always had maybe the tiniest crush on his best friend. It's faded in and out over the years, especially in their college years. But it's always been there, even if just the ghost of one. And now, he's starting to see maybe how bad of an idea this was in the first place—No Nut November. His roommate is literally probably the prettiest person in the world and he's being constantly reminded of the one thing he definitely should not be thinking about under any circumstances if he wants to win. It's a disaster that should have never happened in the first place. This could have been prevented, he thinks.

He's not sure how he didn't think about that when he'd agreed to do this.

He just knows that he has to do something, though he's not sure what.

But any and all ideas of how to protect himself instantly leave his mind, crashing his brain, when he comes back to the apartment the next day to find it sweltering. He looks at the thermostat, thoroughly confused to find the heater set to eighty. He peels off his jacket, recoiling when the humid air sticks to his skin. It's hot. Too hot. Even for early November. It's not that cold outside.

He's about to call out for his roommates when MJ emerges from her room, and he feels like he has to pick his jaw up from the floor.

Her shorts are too short for it being fall. They show too much of her legs for his eyes to not be immediately drawn to them. Her white tank top is tight against her skin, hugging her form in a way that almost makes him jealous. And then, it's almost too much, too dangerous, when he can very clearly tell that she's apparently decided to forgo a bra for the evening.

"Oh, hey Pete!" She says, as if she's not looking like that.

"Hey—hey. Em..." He clears his throat.

Dear God. It's been less than a week. Hold it together.

"Is it..." Peter swallows. "Is it hot in here? The—the heat? Is it—is it on?"

MJ's eyes widen a fraction.

"Oh, yeah. It is," she replies casually. "Is that okay? I was just a little cold."

"So you turn it up to—" Peter stops, craning his neck to look at the thermostat on the wall. "—eighty-two?"

She glances left and right, as if there's nothing wrong with that temperature whatsoever. "Yeah," she says with a nonchalant shrug, her lips tugging into a frown. After a beat, she lets out a faint snort, apparently finding something particularly funny, before turning to the fridge. She opens the freezer, sighing as the cool air hits her face.

Peter doesn't realize he's staring as she reaches in, pulling out a box from the top shelf. When he sees what's in the box, he knows that his doom is near. It's bright, colorful. It's popsicles. He has to leave immediately if he knows what's good for him, if he has any sense of sanity left. She grabs a crinkling wrapper from inside the box, casually whipping it out. She holds one out to him.

"Want one?" She offers.

Peter can only shake his head, swallowing a near-silent, voice-cracking, "Nope."

And it's at this point, as she shuts the freezer door, as she starts peeling the wrapper off the way-too-phallic popsicle, that he knows he should run. It's not safe here.

But he's frozen in place, trying to burn his gaze into the intricacies of the granite countertops, tapping his fingers in an erratic rhythm.

He's an idiot, for sure, because he looks up at exactly the wrong time, right as she wraps her lips around the tip of the pop, her eyes meeting his for a fraction of a second.

How can it only be eighty-two in here?

Thankfully, he gains some sense, tearing himself away from the counter and going over to actually turn down the thermostat. "Is it okay if I—" He coughs. "—Turn this back down?"

"Sure." MJ doesn't stop him. She wets her lips, hiding her satisfied smirk by taking the popsicle deeper into her mouth.

But again, he makes the fatal mistake of looking at her again, because now... well, now she's just messing with him. She has to be.

No one eats a popsicle like that.

When he thinks it can't get worse, she has the fucking audacity to hum as she pushes it further into her mouth. "This is so good," she says, half-way a moan.

Who actually says that about a fucking popsicle?

It's evil, truly it is, because it makes him imagine her swirling her tongue around it inside her mouth, and suddenly, the tightness in his pants gets even more uncomfortable.

He hurries to somewhere else in the kitchen, pouring himself a nice glass of water. It's still too hot in here. MJ sidesteps him easily, still inappropriately eating—sucking off—her popsicle. And he nearly chokes, because as his eyes meet hers again, she takes the damn thing out of her mouth—he thinks he's safe, but oh no—she slips her tongue out, licking a long stripe up the base, swirling it around the tip before taking it into her mouth again.

"What?" She asks—she fucking asks—when he can't look away.

And unsurprisingly, Peter can't speak. Can't even get a single syllable out.

"Is my tongue red?" She asks, sticking said tongue out that was just seconds before all over the popsicle.

"I'm gonna go hop in the shower," Peter spits out, dropping his water in the sink and making a mad dash to the bathroom, not waiting for a response.

A shower is what he needs right now.

A nice, cold shower.

He needs to take a deep breath. Think of not sexy things. Things that don't make his life out to be a bad porno.

Then, he needs to leave. Hide in the forest. Live among the trees, away from temptation, until November is over. Only then can he be at peace.

That's it!

Trees. Nature. Forests. Cold. Snow. MJ in the snow. Kissing MJ in the snow—NO.

NO.

He slams the bathroom door, leaning back against it. He heaves out a shaky sigh, running a hand over his face in frustration. How he can possibly survive the rest of the month, he has no idea.

MJ has to be messing with him, right? There’s absolutely no way in hell she’s not doing this on purpose. And why? Why is she torturing him like this? What has Peter ever done in his life to deserve this torment? It isn’t fair.

No matter how desperately he wants to take care of the not-so-little problem in his jeans, he holds himself back, clenching every muscle in his body as he switches on a very cold shower. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to will the image of Michelle—his best friend and roommate—eating a popsicle out of his mind. It has absolutely no right to be there.

And still, as Peter stands under the stream of freezing water, letting it run down his back and front as he holds himself up with one hand, he can’t help but think that the worst is yet to come. That somehow, someway, MJ would top simulating a blow job on an ice pop. He doesn’t know how she’d do it, but he knows it’s coming.

He must be ready.

Not to MJ’s surprise, Peter avoids her the rest of the day. He keeps his head down, not daring to even glance up at her as he walks past. Weirdly enough, this is a good sign. It confirms her hypothesis that her actions can have some sort of an effect on him. It helps her to know what to do next.

And, well…

She’d be lying if she said it weren’t at least a little bit thrilling.

There’s something deep inside her that finds all of this so interesting, so amusing. She wants to know how far she can go, how hard she can push before he cracks under the pressure. And the fact that it’s her that has all this power over him—it’s certainly a revelation.

But still, even if this is “fun,” she can be professional about this. She would never let it get “too far,” whatever that would be. No, the goal here isn’t to seduce her way into Peter’s pants, but to seduce him—innocently—enough that he just does it to himself.

Her next plan might be a little more unfair, a little more direct, and perhaps a little more daring than the last one.

And—she should add—much more difficult than she had anticipated.

For one, she just can’t seem to get the right angle, holding her phone above her body, making sure to get both the underside of her breasts—a tasteful amount of boob, thank you very much—and the same cheap, pretty pink undies she bought from Target. It’s awkward, tilting and twisting her phone, her thumb just barely reaching the shutter button. The first few shots aren’t anything to be particularly proud of. Too blurry, her arm cramping up from holding the camera up so long. This isn’t something she’s really done before, given she’s never seen the appeal. Why send pics when you could just, you know, show them the real thing?

But for some reason, it makes her heart climb into her throat, makes her face almost unbearably warm.

It’s when she changes her positioning on her bed, finding some nice light filtering in from the early evening sun. Golden hour has always proven to be exceptionally kind to her. She finds a decent pose, covering both breasts with her forearm, arching her back, making sure to get that perfect “booty tooch” that would make Tyra proud. She breathes out in an attempt to cool her heated nerves, parting her lips in a way that’s sure to incite some kind of reaction.

Click.

And then, she’s got the shot.

Okay, technically it’s not a nude, but there’s something about the idea of sending this picture to Peter of all people that gets her stomach twisting in knots.

And as her hand hovers over the send button, her heart hammers in her chest, hesitation holding her still. She takes her bottom lip in her teeth, beginning to wonder if this is the best idea. Her plan had been to send the picture, play it off as some kind of mistake, and hope that he goes to… take care of himself. Sure, it might get a reaction out of Peter—one big enough that causes him to give up this whole no nut thing—but it almost feels as if she’s crossing some kind of line.

Miming a blow job on a popsicle was one thing—one that she can’t decide if she’s proud of or not. That was just a performance. It wasn’t something she was doing to Peter. This—sending him a racy picture when he’s literally in the next room—is a direct interference.

Plus, there’s no telling what this would do to their friendship. It could ruin everything. Catastrophically.

Awkward would be an understatement.

She puts her phone face down on the mattress, avoiding the picture all together, before getting up and pulling on one of her comfy robes.

God, all of this was a terrible idea.

Wallowing in her own self-pity and regret, she flops back down onto the bed, grabbing her phone with the intention of deleting the picture once and for all. It’s still there in the text conversation, just waiting to be sent. She scoffs, shaking her head at herself, only for her heart to stop in her chest when—in her frazzled state—she hits “send” instead of that little “x.”

“SHIT.”

No no no no no NONONONONO.

She drops her phone immediately, wrapping her robe tighter around herself as she scrambles for her bedroom door, nearly tripping over her rug in the process.

Peter’s sitting on the couch, blissfully unaware, when his phone pings. And to Michelle’s utter horror, he picks it up.

“NO!” MJ shouts, jumping on top of him. It’s a futile attempt really, seeing as her best friend—she stupidly forgets—is an actual superhero.

Peter yelps as she pushes him down into the couch, tumbling onto the floor, holding his phone away from her grabby hands as she straddles his hips. “What the fuck—” And while he could push her off of him with a ridiculous amount of ease, he stills, becoming suddenly aware of their precarious position.

“Gimme your phone!” Her voice comes out in a half-plea, half-demand. All panic.

Peter still holds it away from her, his own brand of panic flashing across his features when his other hand naturally falls at her hip. He yanks it away, instead holding her back by the shoulder. “Why?”

It’s also then that he sees what she’s wearing—or rather, what she isn’t wearing.

And in his distraction, Michelle snatches his phone, instinctively throwing it across the room. She winces apologetically when he looks up at her, jaw dropped and brow wrinkled.

“What the hell, MJ—”

“—I’m sorry! I panicked!”

“Why?!”

“I—”

It’s then, as they both stare at each other in shock, that they both realize the position they’re in—but neither of them seem to be able to move away, frozen solid on the living room floor.

Peter can feel his heart beating relentlessly in his ears, his throat suddenly going dry when he notices how tightly Michelle’s thighs are holding him in place. Another problem starts to arise when he sees how her cotton robe is pooled around their aligned hips, his eyes catching the sliver of shiny pink underwear when one side falls back. “What—” He clears his throat, his voice coming out uncharacteristically breathy. “—What was on my… my phone?”

“Uh—” She presses her lips together. “A picture.”

Peter’s gaze drifts lower for a split second, dipping to the exposed dip in her chest, drawn to the rise and fall with each breath. “Of?”

“Me?”

“You?”

MJ breathes out a laugh, glancing down. “I, uh—accidentally sent… You a picture. Well—I meant to send it to you, not that like, it wasn’t for you, but I kinda decided not to send it… and then… I did. Accidentally.”

And even though he’s trying everything in his power to keep his eyes on her face, he can’t help the way they seem to travel lower and lower with each second. He’s confused at first, but then, it hits him, like a train, what exactly that picture was. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

The air crackles between them, static in their ears. Michelle finds her own gaze drifting lower, lingering on his parted lips, a warmth pooling in the pit of her stomach. She shifts slightly, her breath catching as she suddenly feels the hardness pressing into the inside of her thigh. Peter stares up at her, something in his eyes bringing her closer, inch by inch. The warmth and weight of both of his hands tentatively, slowly moving to her waist causes something to ignite within her, and in a split-second, her lips are on his.

Michelle’s surprised to find herself… well—surprised—at how this kiss doesn’t immediately turn into an all tongue-and-teeth, ripping-eachother’s-clothes-off kiss. It’s sweet. Slow and tender—as if the two of them are savoring it. Nothing like she’d expected Peter to be capable of. Nothing like how he’d painted himself to be from all of his hook-up stories.

And she’s not entirely sure who’s “fault” it is when it turns into more.

It could be the way she’s subtly grinding her hips against his, her body alight with the friction.

It could be how his tongue swipes over her bottom lip, innocently at first.

It could be her soft, breathy whines as one of his hands moves lower to cup her ass, pulling her closer, the new angle against his hardness bringing an indescribable feeling.

And then again, it could be her robe starting to fall off her shoulders—she’s not sure who starts that, but all of a sudden she’s feeling cool air on her skin.

She almost smiles into the kiss, thinking about how easily and quickly this “chaste” kiss had shifted.

And it’s immediately after that thought that she snaps out of it.

“Wait!” She says, pulling back and sitting up—but still staying in Peter’s lap. Before this can go any further, she has to tell him the truth. He has to be able to… back out of it.

Where this sudden sense of generosity’s come from, she has no idea.

He follows, sitting up with her, brows creasing, his expression a concoction of worry and panic. “Oh, fuck. I’m so sorry—”

“No!” She puts a hand on his shoulder after fixing her robe. Her thumb smooths over the fabric of his shirt. “No. It’s… fine. I just…” Surprisingly, she finds herself chuckling, unable to bite back her smile as he looks at her with concern.

“What is it, Em?”

It’s the nickname for her nickname that does it for her. Truly.

“You good?” He asks, wincing as she shifts in his lap again.

“Yeah, uh—” She coughs, trying unsuccessfully to hide the way her lips are twitching violently as she fights her smile. It takes her more than a few moments, the deep breaths she’s taking not doing all that much to help mask the humor in her tone. “—I know about No Nut November.”

At first, Peter’s confused, staring back at her with furrowed brows, his mouth in a cute little ‘o’. He tries to play dumb, maybe thinking that he can get away with one final attempt to save his pride—letting out a nervous chuckle, scratching the back of his neck, he shrugs. “Yeah, my new diet. Crazy, huh?”

She blinks, blankly staring at him. “Peter.” There’s some amusement there, especially as she pointedly glances down to their current position.

“What?” He asks dumbly.

“Ned told me.”

Peter curses, wincing. “Damn it, Ned.”

“Yeah…” In a strange, very unwelcome bout of insecurity, Michelle removes her hands from Peter’s shoulders, twiddling her fingers together in front of her. “I made him tell me… and I kinda… also made him let me in on the bet.”

His eyes nearly bug out of his head. “What?!”

“We kinda made our own bet that like… If you lasted less than a week, I would get all the money.”

“You didn’t think I’d last a week?” Peter almost takes offense at that, even if there’s merit to her prediction. “Damn, MJ…”

“I mean… I also wanted to win. So… I kinda tried—or I guess have been trying… to sabotage you?”

At that, his jaw drops. “No! Wait—You—What? I—” He stammers like that, his brain short-circuiting as she still watches from his lap. “That was—what? The porn? On my laptop?”

MJ nods, grimacing.

“The… underwear? Just in the couch?”

“Yeah…”

“And you were gonna…” He looks down at her, the cotton robe still just barely tied around her—the journey his eyes make also coinciding with his mouth going dry once again. “...That picture you took…?”

She nods again, looking down at her hands.

“Putting your head on my lap?!” He asks, as if he of all people is scandalized.

“That wasn’t part of the plan. That was kinda what helped me figure out that… I could just… do it myself.”

“Oh my God,” he puts a hand on his face. “The popsicle. The fucking popsicle.”

“That was probably my best work, honestly.”

“That was so cruel.”

And when he laughs, his eyes crinkling, she starts to see that maybe this will all be okay, and a sense of relief fills her chest. “Yeah, sorry. I also had Felicia help.”

“You put her up to that?!”

“Nah. She offered. I felt kinda weird about it—” She says the last part without realizing it, immediately shutting her mouth.

“That’s why I said no,” Peter replies.

It’s Michelle’s turn to be surprised. “What? Really? I thought it was just ‘cause you were so dedicated to this whole no nut thing.”

“I mean, yeah, I was but—” He laughs, reaching a hand up to smooth the curls at the base of his neck. “—I just… felt weird about it. With you guys being friends and all.”

The way MJ’s heart flutters is strange, but not entirely unwelcome. “Why would that be weird?”

“Why did you think it’d be weird?” He throws back, his lips twisting into a curious grin.

And not for the first time when talking to Peter, Michelle feels all knowledge of the English language leave her body. It’s strange, how much confidence she can have while literally dry-humping him on the living room floor, but how scared she can be trying to explain something about how she feels.

She only shrugs.

A beat passes, and still, Michelle can’t bring herself to move.

“So…” Peter draws out after another moment. “All that—” he clears his throat. “—stuff… that was just to win that bet?”

“Well, I mean—yeah?” The look of hurt on his face makes her heart lurch in her chest. She’s quick to correct herself. “But—I… I think maybe that could be a good thing.”

His brows raise in careful curiosity, though he still seems apprehensive. “A good thing?” He asks slowly.

Michelle nods, swallowing. “Uh—Yeah. ‘Cause… If I hadn’t then I wouldn’t have figured out that—um… I might—” It’s weird, how frustrating it is that she can’t seem to find the words she wants to say, that her brain seems to have completely abandoned her in her greatest, most dire time of need. And this shouldn’t be this hard. She’s an adult. She’s in her third year of college.

Confessing the feelings that you’ve just realized you have for your best friend since high school should be easy right?

Right?

And she’s only just figured this out. In the last five seconds. That all these years of weird feelings, long glances, warm faces has actually lead to something, they’ve actually meant something other than a weird stomach bug or whatever.

All it took was attempted sabotage during No Nut November for her to realize that.

The power it has.

“MJ?”

His voice grabs her attention; the caution in his tone snapping her gaze to his. And for a moment, she just looks at him, mouth hanging open as she tries to say something, anything. But still, she can’t.

So, she does the next best thing.

She kisses him—again—trying her best to put all of the words she can’t seem to figure out into it. And although he kisses her back—easily—he doesn’t seem to understand what she means, because he pulls away not ten seconds later.

“Listen—MJ—” Peter stammers, running a jittery hand through his hair as he breathes out a huff of laughter. “—I don’t think I can do—” He gestures between the two of them. “—This… if it’s just… casual.”

So, he really didn’t get it, and now, she’s feeling the impatience creeping up her neck.

“I really like you, MJ,” he confesses, and for a moment, she’s not sure if she heard him right, or if she heard him speak at all. Her brain must be playing some nasty, cold-hearted trick on her, because Peter—perpetually single and ready to mingle Peter—just said that he liked her.

God, she feels like she’s a teenager again. It feels so high school, the amount of butterflies in her stomach hearing him say that.

Even more so when she finds herself responding automatically, “I really like you, too.”

“Cool,” he says lamely, his breathless chuckle making her heart flutter in her chest.

He doesn’t waste another second before he tugs her back to him, capturing her lips to his, one of his hands moving to cup the underside of her jaw. She tilts her head, letting out a gentle sigh as he deepens the kiss. His tongue brushes against her lips before slipping into her mouth. The weight of his other hand on her waist is comforting in a way, heavy and solid as he holds her in place.

Truly, she hadn’t expected any of her plans from earlier in the week to come to this.

Instinctively, her hand snakes down to his hips, sliding underneath the hem of his t-shirt and dragging across his stomach, smiling into the kiss as his muscles twitch underneath her touch. It’s then, as her hand dips even lower, palming him over his sweats that he seems to snap out of whatever trance she put him in.

He grabs her wrist—gently, of course—pulling it away and breaking the kiss.

His chest is heaving with each breath, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in an apologetic smile. “I—I can’t—the… the bet.”

And it dawns on Michelle then, that she’s been cockblocked by No Nut November.

Even though she tries to appear understanding, he must be able to see the disappointment in the twist of her lips, the way she nods quietly.

“But—” He starts, pressing his mouth together into a thin line. He nudges her, pointing his finger as he’s hit with a revelation, talking slowly. “—You’re not… doing… No Nut November…”

MJ lets out a surprised laugh, shifting in his lap as her face warms even more. A beat passes as she stares at him, giving him a chance to take it back. “Are you sure?” She finally asks.

Peter nods quickly, insistently. He’s got this. Clearly. “Oh. Yeah. Definitely. I’ll be fine.”

Yeah, she’s not sure how much of that she actually believes.

Probably none of it.

But, that doesn’t mean she’s turning down the offer.

“Okay…” She trails off, unable to bite back her grin at the brief self-doubt that flashes across his features. “What do you—what do you wanna do?” She asks, her face burning, suddenly finding herself the slightest bit tongue tied. It takes everything in her to at least look calm and not like she’s about a half-second away from just jumping his bones.

Or, one in particular.

Peter clears his throat, the tips of his ears turning an adorable shade of red. “Uh—” He huffs out a laugh. “I mean… Whatever you’re comfortable with? I’m cool with whatever you want.”

He’s cool. Okay. Yeah.

She shifts her weight again, biting back a smirk when he inhales sharply as she brushes against the hardness in his gray sweats. “Sorry.” Feeling merciful, Michelle climbs off of his lap, sitting back against the couch, curling her legs underneath her. “Any ideas?”

Though, Peter can’t seem to tell if he’s happy with this new development or not—as hard as it was having her sitting on him. “Um—” And his expression tells her that he does have one. “I could…” He coughs again. “I could go down on you?”

It’s funny, how casually he says it, like he’s offering to give her a ride to the airport, or something. But it still makes her ears ring.

“Yeah,” she says, nodding slowly. She swallows. “That sounds—that sounds good.”

“We should probably—” He gestures to his bedroom door, huffing out a laugh. “—not do this out here.”

“Probably,” she snorts.

The speed at which he scrambles to stand and runs to his bedroom, compared to her somewhat-leisurely pace, makes her let out the most undignified laugh.

A silence falls between them as he shuts the door, the click echoing. MJ takes a moment to glance around his room—literally a single moment, because in the next he’s wrapping his arm around her waist, yanking her to him and crashing his lips to hers. His hands are greedy, twisting handfuls of the soft fabric of her robe, finding purchase on her ass and grinding her against his hardness.

MJ revels in the groan he lets out as she melts into him, her hands winding themselves in his soft curls, twisting and tugging ever so slightly.

He guides her to the bed, pausing to gently lay her back on the mattress before crawling over her, his mouth finding itself on the underside of her jaw, his lips and tongue dragging along the column of her throat. With one hand, he prises her legs apart, happily settling between them while his other fumbles with the tie of her robe.

His eyes meet hers first, silently asking for permission, before pulling the thick string back. His eyes darken as Michelle helps him slip the robe back, leaving her almost completely bare underneath him. He unconsciously wets his lips as his eyes hungrily rake over the expanse of her body—he feels as if the only accurate description for how he feels at this moment being a deer caught in really well-defined headlights.

She thinks for a moment that he’s just going to do this—stare at her—instead of, well, what he said he’d do.

But he doesn’t seem to have that kind of patience. He lurches forward, his mouth hot on her neck, trailing open-mouthed, wet kisses down to her collarbone, her sternum, the swell of her right breast.

She bites back a gasp as he takes her nipple into his mouth, her back arching off the bed as his tongue swirls around it, palming the other with his hand. It’s a sight to see for sure, Peter’s head on her chest, his curls tickling her skin.

His trail continues, back to the dip in her chest, lower and lower, his kisses hot on her stomach, down to her hips, the lace trim of her thong.

Peter sits back on his heels, breathless as he looks down at her. “Fuck—” He curses, drawn to the damp patch in the middle of the soft faux-satin, how it clings to her.

He doesn’t give it another second, hooking his thumbs around the lace and roughly pulling them off of her legs.

He’s diving his head down in the next instant, his lips leaving scorching kisses on the inside of her thighs. He thinks that he can maybe tease her, trying to slow his pace as he gets closer and closer to where she wants him to be.

(Okay, it’s where he wants to be, too.)

He pulls back a little, trying not to smile too much at the disappointed edge in her shuddering sigh. As much as his mouth waters with her so close to him, he controls himself. Kind of. To a degree. He takes a finger, experimentally teasing her entrance, his sweats—somehow—tightening at Michelle’s quiet gasp as he touches her. There, he collects her wetness, coating his finger in her arousal, swirling it over her cunt, around her clit. And he sits there, marveling at how impossibly wet she is already.

Though, it’s not long, probably less than a minute, before his impatience kicks in again.

He thinks he might actually die if he doesn’t eat her out.

Dramatic? Maybe.

Valid?

Who’s to say?

But he can’t help himself, and any thought about slowing down is thrown out the window as he licks a long stripe up her center, his eyes rolling back as he tastes her. He dives right back in, his tongue circling her entrance, lapping her up.

And Michelle can’t help but notice how at home he looks between her legs, how in his element he is as he moves to start sucking on her clit, flicking it back and forth with his tongue as he teases her with two fingers.

His eyes meet hers and she wonders how on earth she’s going to survive this, especially when those two fingers push into her, curling as he pumps them in and out.

“Shit—Peter!” She cries, her back fully lifting off the mattress as he picks up his pace, moaning against her.

Clearly he’s enjoying this, too.

A choked gasp slips from her lips when he slows suddenly, his eyes locking with hers again before picking back up even harder and faster than before. She reaches down, tangling her hand in his messy curls, holding him in just that right spot. Her thighs try to close on him, trapping him in as the coil in her tightens, but his free hand grips her, holding her in place. And she can’t fight the way her hips buck against him as she begins to grind herself against his face.

It builds and builds, teetering just on that beautiful edge, when Peter adds a third finger—and then, she’s seeing stars, her brain going fuzzy as all of her muscles tense, electricity shooting from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. She comes with a strangled moan, panting as her body’s overcome with pleasure.

Peter’s movements slow, and he pulls off of her sensitive clit, wiping his mouth with the back of his arm, before taking each finger into his mouth, sucking them clean.

MJ sits up on her elbows, her chest heaving with each breath as she watches him—and at that moment, her eyes drawn to the hard line in his sweats, she curses No Nut November again, because honestly, she’s never wanted him to fuck her more, never been so angry at a single month.

He seems to be in the same fire, his expression wrought with the inner turmoil he feels. His eyes screw shut, and he pinches the bridge of his nose, trying desperately to ignore how painfully hard he is, how he can feel his dick pulsing already, and how stupidly hot and beautiful MJ is.

His decision’s made before he opens his eyes.

Michelle lets out a surprised yelp as he leaps on top of her, his mouth on hers before she can start laughing. Somehow, his hands are greedier as they explore her body, squeezing and kneading her breasts, her waist, her hips, down to her ass.

None of that’s to say that she’s complaining, though. Peter just ate her out like it was his full-time job, like he was stopping crime as Spider-Man. As far as she’s concerned, he can do whatever he wants right now.

It’s when he starts to take his sweats—and boxers—off that she gets confused, if not a little too hopeful.

“What about the bet?” She asks breathlessly when he pulls back.

He holds her gaze, his lips curving into a sly grin. “Fuck the bet.”

If there’s a god, Michelle wants to thank her right now.

Peter’s hands grip her thighs, his fingers digging into her skin as he wraps them around his waist. He takes his dick in his hand, pumping a few times, swiping it down her center, tapping her clit, before Michelle suddenly remembers to use their one collective brain cell.

“Wait—” she gasps. “Condom.”

Peter curses under his breath, hanging his head for a moment, biting his lip. “Yeah. Yeah. You’re right.”

If she thought he was fast running to the bedroom, watching him scramble through his bedside drawers looking for a rubber is something else. A giggle—a fucking giggle—bubbles up out of her at his relief when he finds one.

He rolls it on quickly, expertly, days of No Nut November clearly not slowing him down.

He’s back on her in the next second, eager as he gathers her arousal and coating himself with it.

They both let out a string of curses as he pushes into her—finally. Peter screws his eyes shut, taking a shuddering breath as he feels how warm and snug she is around him, almost unable to believe how well she fits him. MJ grips his shoulder, face burning as he gives her a moment to adjust, a moment to take all of him in.

When he starts to move, they both wonder again why they hadn’t been doing this in the first place.

As with everything else, Peter doesn’t waste their time. Even though he revels in how fucking amazing she feels around him, how he can’t even remember the last time this felt so good, so right, he picks up a steady pace, fucking into her like it’s the last chance he’ll get. He hikes her leg higher on his waist, the new, deeper angle causing Michelle to arch her back, a wet moan ripping through her.

“Peter—” She chants his name over and over, unable to say anything else as his hips snap into hers. “Fuck—”

“God, MJ, you’re so fucking good,” his voice is almost a growl, lower and more desperate than he’s ever sounded. “Taking me so well.”

Michelle should’ve guessed he was one for dirty talk, though she can’t say she’s surprised.

Or that she minds.

Peter bites back a groan, stilling momentarily as she clenches around him, burying his face in the crook of her neck. He’s already so close, teetering just on the edge, but he’s filled with a sense of determination at the sting of her nails digging into his shoulders.

His hand trails down her stomach, his thumb pressing her clit, scrubbing furiously as he pumps in and out of her. She squeezes him again, head thrown back, slack-jawed as he tilts her hips even further, the new angle causing a string of curses to spill from her lips. Her muscles spasm around him as she comes for a second time, her eyes screwed shut as she clings to him for dear life. His own orgasm crashes over him, and he moans loudly into her skin, holding her to him , fingers digging into her hips as he comes undone.

It’s something MJ can’t help but want to see again. And again.

He flops down on top of her, his head on her chest as he struggles to catch his breath.

Her hand comes to smooth down his curls at the nape of his neck, and she smiles as he shifts his head to look up at her.

“God, fuck No Nut November,” He breathes into her skin.

A light laugh bubbles up out of her.

He lets out a heavy sigh. “What day is it?” He asks.

“November fifth.”

He groans, squeezing his eyes shut. “Damn.” He pulls out of her, standing up to throw the condom away, almost missing the bin in the corner of the room.

“You made it longer than I thought you would,” Michelle laughs.

Peter flops down next to her, his eyes narrowed, though there’s still a smile on his face. “What?”

“Well, yeah. I bet Ned that you wouldn’t last a week,” she replies, patting him on the chest as she gets up, disappearing into the bathroom.

Peter’s eyes widen before he covers them with his hands. “Oh. Shit. Ned.”

He’s still there when she comes back; still naked, too.

“Ned, doesn’t have to know,” MJ says, falling back into the bed with him.

Peter peeks out from underneath his arm. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. We can like, pretend you’re still doing it.”

There’s a crooked grin on Peter’s face as he stares at her—a look that makes her insides gooey and heart fuzzy.

And she hates how much she doesn’t hate it.

“And when Betty inevitably breaks Ned,” she shrugs. “We can split the money.”

He shakes his head, amazed and somewhat scandalized. “MJ, you’re a genius.”

Again, she shrugs.

“So, we can keep doing—” He gestures between them, brows raised. “—And let Ned lose. The money’s ours.”

“Right.”

He lamely sticks his hand out, offering for her to shake on it.

“Deal?” He asks.

She kisses him. “Deal.”

#spideychelle #petermj #petermjane #peter parker x michelle jones #peter parker #michelle jones #thotumn #day 11 #no nut november #rated: e

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seb-owns-these-tatas · 4 years

Text

Puppet Strings

Please don’t police the shit out of me for this one (I’ve read and seen all of what’s happening in Tumblr with the talented authors 😭😫---either way, I DGAF if I get judged for writing this. Y’all are getting this for free. LMAO. Welcome to my freakin’ kinky world. 😭

MASTERLIST

Characters: Stephen Colley x Reader

Summary: You’ve had Stephen wrapped around your finger by using your family’s kindness to your advantage---keeping him guilty and complying over whatever wishes you wanted---he was giving it due to your manipulative, cunning persona. You were being head-over-heels for him that made you have your reasons, thinking that being the way you are was fine for your strong obsession.

Warnings: NSFW 18+ Manipulative reader. Obsessed reader. This is quite dark for me because she’s using our puppy to her benefit (somehow?)---using Stephen as if he’s her boy toy. Spitting. Sub!Stephen. Porn with a plot. (Though, this was planned to only be porn without a plot LMAO) Dub-con. Exhibitionism. Angst? Thirsty ass reader. Not connected to the plot of the movie.

Words: 3,810+

A/N: I didn’t know what happened that this ended up this way. Please don’t judge my soul for this.I was all ‘oh my baby stephen’ to writing this filthy shit. Also, Stephen’s 20 in this and the reader is 19, okay? So, legal. (In my country it is) ENJOY, FILTHY LADIES! This made me pout because of how soft Stephen is and the reader is quite...Eh. 😭 I think this will be a 3-5 part fic. Heehee. Or maybe not----lmao. We’ll see.

Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS PART! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE! Sorry for the grammatical errors and such because English isn’t my mother tongue! PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK AFTER READING, BB!

Disclaimer: PNG’s and pictures used in edits are not mine even the GIF’s too. However, the edits and this fanfic is definitely from moi.

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

THE SMELL OF BLUEBELLS WAS ARDENT AND SWITH, it's scent thoroughly withstanding and wafting through your nose with the odor of sweat. Stephen's earthy and musk scent adding more stimulation to what was being given down south and around the canvas of your breasts.

An ample amount of slime trailed a path from the swell of your knockers through the meander of your neck, feeling a pair of soft, delicate lips having its way and paving to have a suck; thrilled and exploratory over giving you a mark that you surely ordered him around to.

You've felt the tiny nibbles on your neck, feeling full over being filled by the cock of your family's lackey who happened to be under your manipulative, presumptuous fingers. Stephen was having his way with you, as he was commanded to do so in the middle of harvesting crops; all sweaty, dirty and masking in his domestic labor as your fingers hooked along his belt hoops, pulling him away from the field towards a veiled place where bluebells were filled.

The first time you've had sex with Stephen, he was beyond hesitant. His rosy cheeks fueled as if it was on fire from the moment you've asked him for more of his services; to be the one to take your virginity rather than a rich, middle aged man who had terrible mustaches that crept the heck out of you.

Stephen and his pure innocence understood your favors of help by wanting him to accompany you in the city while you buy things for yourself or stuff that your mother asked to buy.

Much to your dismay for his lack of apprehension, It wasn't the type of aid you were asking for.

How pretty his face flushed a lot more from how you've frankly told him that you needed a different type of assistance to satisfy that curiosity of yours made you giggle, the desire pooling more in the pit of your stomach, filling in the prurient passion as if it was enough to stimulate you.

Stephen Colley was utterly pretty, beyond God's work as he was sculpted with a face of a Greek God as people have been saying. Your family even admiring God's work of art by how he was created; enough to be painted and inspired to be sculptured in the museums. He was the first boy in your fantasies and the only one that could make you breathe deep breaths in between rubbing the itch in your mound as you explored your body by yourself that nobody ever had yet.

He was your fantasy. The boy in your dreams that you would gladly want to have in your life for years end.

After welcoming the afterglow of an orgasm, such debauched thoughts came into your head in the same time you've wanted to rub onto that button again for thinking about him.

You were going to have him. You wanted him, you've mindlessly convinced yourself. Stephen was a plague that could infect your precious little mind---the facade of an innocent, kind and shy sweetheart that your family has been seeing from you was ruined when you've reached puberty.

It wasn't helping that Stephen walked around the house with clothes that you surely want to ruin. Your mind being influenced by your older sister's experiences with men and how her sex life have been.

She was a wild one and deep inside---no matter how much you tell yourself that it was a deed that people respectfully hold onto, the untamed part of you wanted to experience it with the boy who had adorable rosy cheeks and a gorgeous accent that could make you gush.

Being in line with the heavens, you were lucky Stephen was quite naive despite being a year older than you and with all the plans you had inside your head, being manipulative and guilt-tripping him till he would obey was the only answer for him to accept your offers because the boy was beyond nice and respectful, innocent---delicate as he may seem in being a rose without thorns amongst the bundle of daisies growing along the field.

You weren't his first to be honest; hearing that he had his virginity taken by a lady when he was taking a trip to the city, the woman being older than him and enamored by his beauty, she was very pretty as Stephen saw her the first time---growing a little crush before the lady has offered him a night filled with pleasure, leaving him alone the next morning and a ton of cash that has left him heartbroken by expecting a number or a sweet filled morning with her.

Was this obsession you had for Stephen? you couldn't tell while having the luck of being boffed by him no matter how tentative he may been. The phrase you've been telling whenever he was reluctant held a powerful will for making him capitulate over your wishes.

'You're working for us---I'm your miss. Shouldn't you always follow what I have to say, Stephen?'

Guileful and conniving for you, but you've had no other choice especially when you've heard your sister gossip about how he was starting to take a liking over a girl across the neighborhood, the lady living in a castle---going way back with him and her family because they've known each other since they were kids until they've moved away and came back to their hometown.

Cassandra. That was her name. It was a name that should be left forgotten in Stephen's mind.

Your boy shifted in between your opened legs, your dress hiked up and his trousers unbuttoned; stopping on the end of his derriere as he stuck his swollen cock inside your tight folds, kissing and licking along your throat and breasts that had you mewling beneath him.

Begging him to take you in the middle of the grass to relieve that fantasy only he could satisfy, you've laid beneath him and promised that he could take his time and do whatever he pleases. Exploring every inch and depth of your body with your dress being in a bunch and unfastened by Stephen. Today, you've just wanted to feel him, touch him and let him be inside you because of certain feelings that can't be resisted.

He was patiently taking his time, both of you basking in the afternoon glow before dusk and never bringing in a gas lamp before night even arrives. Stephen was licking your taut nub, his mouth close to your nipple as his hot breath was fanning along his own saliva, bringing pleasure and satisfaction. Another weak whimper erupted from your mouth, watching his eyes closed; tongue darting out to flick your other hardened nipple before deeply moaning out his approval as he devoured your breasts with a tight, strong suck.

The lewd action was enough to make your spine and toes curl.

You've flexed your cunt, tightening around his girth and you've heard him lowly groan with your nipple in his mouth. He immediately pulled his mouth off your breasts with a pop. Innocent, lust-filled baby blues stared above you, the flicker in his eyes asking and waiting for your next behest.

"Stephen," was the only word you managed to croak out, sounding like you were being choked as you felt him slowly pull out of your thirsty cunt. He leaned his head to the left, dipping his head and giving you a kiss which caught you off-guard; it was plain and enough to take your mind off his throbbing cock that has slithered in. After being explored by his mouth on your body, Stephen's lips that landed on you to give a peck surely felt unfamiliar because you both rarely do share kisses in the midst of intercourse.

His crimson colored lips on yours felt divine. The sudden smooch probably involuntary in his part because of how sexually intimate you were being with him. You've swallowed the moan forming in your throat by feeling him wholly pull out, moaning and whining from the lack of imbue and by forcing yourself not to have your way with his lips---wanting nothing but to dance your mouth with his.

You knew this was a one-sided affection and he didn't entirely adored you like how you do for him.

Your fingers gripped onto the grass on either side, it traveled and clasped around Stephen's neck that felt balmy beneath the pad of your fingers. Drops of perspiration smoothening out as you watched him pant above you, breathless and in a daze. His cheeks turning rosier and crimson from such scabrous act you've brought him in.

He was heavy and scathing on your thigh. His hand grabbing onto the growing base of his throbbing, uncut, hard cock as he looked between you both, a shaky breath leaving his lips as he was feeling his cock on his hands, fingers enclosing around his girth to give it one jerk that made you salivate.

His neck was sweating, drops of perspiration falling along his temples and to distract yourself, you've darted your tongue out to sweep the sweat off his face, catching him off guard that made him throatily groan and cast you a look, his eyes withdrawn and thoroughly focused on what taboo you tried to help him be accustomed with.

The place you decided to be ravished on was rather risquè but also getting you more thrilled to know that your sister knew this spot as a location you always spend time with whenever you were reading. You've heard tiny shuffling of bushes which made Stephen look away and observe whoever that was with his eyebrows knotted together---distracting him and pushing the worry away just like you always do, you've quietly whispered in his ear.

"Put that cock in me, Stephen. Please,"

At the sound of you pleading, it was enough to pull his thoughts away from being concerned over your family catching you both in such a raunchy moment. Their daughter laid amongst the land, being ravished by their worker who they've trusted for all their heart---a boy whom they didn't expect to be salaciously connected with you.

The both of you were in for a tough scolding if caught.

Pointing the head of his cock in your entrance, he'd swiftly drove in. You were wet enough for him to slip inside with the right tightness of your cunt that pushed him to grunt as he filled you in one go. Your back curled from the penetration, the thirst for sexual gratification being answered by Stephen when he started to thrust his hips, experimenting over the pace that could make you moan around his arms before pummeling like how he wanted to.

"Oh yeah---yeah---yes, just like that," you've choked in your own moans and pleasure, licking your lips and watching how he was defiling your cunt with his cock, your slick moisturizing his---the filthy sound of your juices coating his, thrusting in and out of your folds; becoming music to the sound of insects probably watching how you were both sending each other raptures.

Stephen knew how thrilled you were becoming by the audible sound of how filthy he was making you feel. Being aware of the obscene sound whenever he tries to fasten the pace, slowing down to let you both appreciate the erotic sense of debauchery has gotten you biting your lip up at him.

You were his miss and whatever you wanted was his job to give.

He'd slip a hand in between you, the pad of his thumb finding your clit and when he did, Stephen started rubbing that throbbing nub of yours in rough, circular motions making your core jerk, your hips chasing his hand with each thrust he gives; entirely accepting and embracing the sheer pleasure he was giving.

Your boy was deeply grunting with each shove of his hips, his cock befouling your scheming soul and you were loving every moment---cherishing the sounds he create that only you could muster.

Only you, not Cassandra---not anyone.

In the midst of such onslaught and currently trapped in your own bliss, you've never took heed of Stephen panting out your name; thinking that he was bemoaning his desperation for continuously prodding your hole in a greedy pace, his carping had a flicker of perturbation in his diluted, lust-filled baby blues as he tried to catch your attention.

"Miss---Miss," Stephen couldn't stop his smutty assaults. Too concentrated on reaching both of your highs as he peered down at you with his peepers growing larger when he heard your name being called from afar; being an echo of warning that what you were both caught up with was utterly unchaste.

"---your family---ugh---they're seeking for you," he grunted with every word and plunge; his pace never stopping and his fingers reaching further down to polish your clit. Your leak being spread all over your folds as he licked his lips, admiring how you were writhing beneath his body---how you reacted to his ministrations.

Their voices echoed from afar, alerting you both that they were closer than you imagined them to be. It was the dead of the night already, the time after nightfall as you both welcomed the sins of passion that you have gotten Stephen to be involved in again. Being in the shadows of the night, the moment was easier to covert from your family as you laid to satisfy your mania. The ruffle of grass being stepped on repeatedly actually has been the sound of Stephen ardently violating your cunt along the land of dew.

You've both turned your heads to see light coming from the far distance. A buzz of incomprehensible words of unknown from your sister who was mindlessly telling her hunches as to where you both went; remembering that Stephen was also not around for her to ask if he could buy stuff around town because it was already night time.

"Oh, yes!---don't mind them!---just do me,"

He slowed down his pace, skeptical over being caught but never stopping his thrusts while his features turned conflicted over being dubious and also feeling like he was floating for the twist of elation written on your face from his drives. You've grabbed onto his hair, roughly turning his head to face yours as he loudly grunted and groaned above you, the sound made you slip a finger on his lips to shush his moans.

"You're not going to get caught---we're not going to get caught. Just stifle your moans. You can do that. You're a good boy---our good boy and you'll make me cum, right?"

The whispers you've managed to slip past your lips made him stare down at you, understanding what you were trying to point out and it has not been seconds before he'd nodded before you, starting his relentless pace that made you sigh as he was trying to build up your orgasm again, grabbing onto your ankle and hooking it around his hip as he continued to forge himself in you; his breath hitting your face with every push---grunts being uncontrolled from the actions.

You've heard a twig break from behind, not wanting Stephen to be distracted---you've grabbed onto his face and forced him to look at you; your heart beat never ceasing to run fast whenever he stares into your eyes. The fast heart beat also being the cause of your orgasm coming.

He'd shifted in between you, your hips bucking to meet every thrust he offered. Mewling out lewd moans whenever he hits that spot that felt so heavenly. Reaching for his hand, you've guided him back to where he has been flicking---your clit that he immediately rubbed on as you were approaching your high.

Loud, rough grunts came from his throat, feeling his own coming as your cunt gripped him hard for the sounds he was creating. Your mouth and face contorted in sheer pleasure when you've violently thrashed against his hold. Stephen's unconscious response was to grab onto you, keeping you closer to his lean, muscular body---a wiry sculpted body from all the hard work that he does for your family; convulsing in his arms as you gushed around his penetrative cock.

Rambunctious ugh's came from the both of you, especially from your boy who was in the midst of coming. Your sensitive cunt was jolting as Stephen went on in propelling himself, his face of bliss bringing you ecstacy as it was hot for a beautiful face to be debauched like that. You've forgotten your family who was in search for you when he wholly pulled out just in time for him to spill his warm seed over your torso, his load shooting out in spurts as he breathed heavily above you.

You've both shared silence after a moment of paradise. As a habit you've held Stephen accountable, he'd delicately held onto your jaw with his calloused fingers, pinching them together to set forth over opening your mouth. It was an understanding and idea that you told him about after an act of pleasure. He was against the idea at first before you've basically convinced him that there would be no moment as if you were being degraded. But, he somehow has become used to it after quite some time.

Besides, it was one of your wishes. His miss surely needed to have it when she wants it.

Gradually opening your lips, Stephen has lined his mouth on you. Drawing down a line of spit and aiming to shoot it inside; thoroughly not bothered about the fact of it already as he spat inside your mouth, making you grin as he gathered his spilled cum on your torso with a finger, slipping them inside your vermillion, his eyes in a daze as he concentrated over the mouth that has sucked on his cream-filled fingers---swallowing the mixture of his saliva and release like it was food for your tainted soul.

He certainly didn't expect you to be ribald and deceptive from such a religious family---But, considering your sister and her liberated moments, maybe it was probably in the blood.

"Was it how you liked it today?" he simply acknowledged, tone curious over the fact of being caught by your family was thrilling you which is why you've dragged him along the meadow while he was working, asking him for a quick frigging in a deserted, furtive space.

Stephen helped you wear your dress after snapping his breeches back, keeping himself decent. He still wore his white, dirt-filled tank top. Slipping over his suspenders on his shoulders, the latter remained sitting on the grass as you stood up. The expression on his face mixed with a look of a puppy who was blushing under the moon light, his hair utmost unkempt and clothes looking rumpled as if he had a wild night.

"It was everything, Stephen." you softly muttered, flattening the stresses of your dress with the back of your hand, erasing any proof or evidence that you had a nooky with your family's beautiful helper. A sigh left your lips as the ache of thirst was probing your spine, yearning for more than once today.

"---But, can you do me one more favor?"

"Anything, Miss Y/N."

Stephen waited and watched for your response, seeing you ogling at his beauty as he sat silently, catching sight of those suggestive flicker of your eyes under the night.

You've knelt before him, having your height differences obvious from how you tried being eye to eye as he was still taller than you. He'd simply studied your face, changing into an expression that he wouldn't get to reject---not that he ever does because he had no other choice but to follow what you wanted because you were still his patron.

"Can you visit my chambers after dinner?"

He was quick to become uncertain over the service being asked. His thoughts hastily going to what happened in the middle of fornication a while ago; the risk of being exposed by your family for what you both decided to tumble through the afternoon, "But, Miss---"

His protests were cut short when you've distracted him with a delicate kiss to the lips, using it to your advantage as it left seeing him swallowing his apprehension down in the pit of his stomach. Kissing you back with a soft peck that got you sighing when he pulled away to wait for your answer, his complains never being risked to be told. Currently disoriented from the kiss you've given him out of the blue and from the feeling of being confused over what he should feel for letting you have him explicitly.

"My family won't be awake in the middle of the night,"

"Would...you wish to be ravished again?" he understood what you wanted. Another part of his services that he only gives you because you were artful enough to manipulate him into thinking that the idea was fine---that giving you his body and soul was fine.

Stephen had his utmost respect for everyone in your family because he was thankful for them to be employed in the household. Which is why he was even helping you in this part of favor that he surely could have no say about.

"Yes. Can I have you for the night?---I need you tonight,"

He gave a small smile, his fingers reaching for a couple of bluebells from behind. Completely helpless to be under your demands, "If you are in need of it, then I suppose it is fine. Will it help you sleep at night?" the latter slipped the flower behind your ear, his beam so precious with a soul valuable enough to be exploited or influenced by your manipulative ploys.

"Yes---Yes, it does. It'll keep me in deep slumber rather than sleeping like I never have slept at all,"

"---Then you can have me again if you want to---all night if you wish so,"

You've let him tuck the flower, appreciating how handsome and charming he sweetly smiled when you've taken his fingers and kissed every pad of it.

"Thank you, Stephen. You're amazing,"

"Anything for you, Miss."

There will be no place for Cassandra or any other women in his mind. You were determined to swarm his thoughts with only you---where he would worship no other woman nor let him have the desire to feel pleasure over others. From the moment he came into your lives, you've already marked him as your person when you were younger; having this toxic affection for him from the moment you've seen his sweet, seraph face. His personality and characteristics being adding more to your fixation when he was so kind to be gullible---fastening him in a physical-venereal connection that would aid to your benefit.

Stephen Colley was only yours and a puppy---your puppy that you would gladly take care of forever even if it means to be the bad guy in the house.

So, what’s cooking? LMAO. Leave feedbacks to give me power to write the second part. HA!

General taglist for Henry and his characters: @agniavateira, @iloveyouyen, @rahdaleigh, @silverkitten547, @henrythickcavill, @kaatelyyynn

#Stephen Colley #stephen colley smut #stephen colley x reader #i capture the castle #henry cavill #henry cavill smut #muse: stephen colley #hc #henry cavill characters #stephen colley x you #stephen colley x y/n #henry cavill masterlist #henrycavill #henry #seb-owns-these-tatas

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