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#i wonder how ralph is doing
pasteld0ll6 · 2 months
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Wrote a vintage car ad for an art project today but i was in a rush so i decided to just fuck around write down the first shit that came to mind. I don't know how i got here tbh. will update with my final grade once i get it
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navybrat817 · 5 months
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The Dad Diaries: Welcome Home
Pairing: Dad!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Summary: Bucky reflects on the first night with his son home and puts his thoughts to paper.
Word Count: Over 1.2k
Warnings: Fluff, reflecting, first time dad, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning and a dad, okay?).
A/N: Welcome to The Dad Diaries! This AU will focus on Bucky and his relationship with his son (and you!) ❤️ Thanks to the beautiful @whisperlullaby for giving this intro a look and assuring me it wasn't garbage, but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!
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Bucky stared intently at the open blank journal that sat in the middle of his office desk. He had picked up the pen a few minutes ago, but hadn’t written a single word. Why did he feel stuck? Better yet, what was he thinking by doing this? Reading often came easy to him, but writing? That was something else entirely.
It was also something he wanted to do.
He ran a hand over his face with a sigh and wondered if he should call it a night, crawl into bed with you, and try tomorrow. No, he didn’t want to push it off before he even began. Glancing at the monitor, he heard your voice in his head, a memory of something you told him in the early stages of dating:
The best writing comes from the heart. Write what you and your heart love because no one knows that story better than you.
Bucky had plenty of stories to tell. How he became a hero and a good man after years of pain and darkness. Or how he fell in love with you and became your husband.
And his newest adventure of becoming a father.
He wasn’t sure how to be a dad yet, but he knew he loved his son. That was more than enough to start. And with a smile tugging at his lips, he put the pen to paper.
Hey, Nugget,
My name is James Buchanan Barnes. Most people call me Bucky. Your mom calls me her husband and I’m the luckiest man in the world for that, especially since she gave me the greatest gift I could ever ask for: you.
Your name is James, too. Your mom doesn't know if we’ll call you Jamie or JJ, but I have a feeling you'll hear a bit of both. And one day, I’ll get to hear you call me Dad. Or Dada or Daddy or Papa.
Whatever makes you happy.
He paused in his writing when he thought he heard something on the monitor. His eyes flickered to the screen again and he breathed a little easier when he saw that his baby was still sleeping soundly in the middle of the crib. It wouldn’t stop him from checking on him later, just to be on the safe side.
I’m so glad you’re home. In fact, tonight is your first night in the nursery. I hope you like it here. To quote Ralph Waldo Emerson: “A house is made with walls and beams: a home is built with love and dreams.”
Yeah, your old man likes to read. Maybe you will, too. I even have an original copy of The Hobbit and would love to give it to you when you're older.
Books lined the far wall of Bucky’s office, many of them worn from the amount of times he read them. He made sure Jamie’s room had a reading nook, too. It was one of the only things he asked for when the two of you designed the nursery.
I hope you get enough sleep tonight. Your mom, too. You both did great at the hospital and deserve all the rest you can get.
Would you believe me if I said I was a nervous wreck when I brought your mom in, but tried not to let it show? People call me strong, but I don’t think I ever witnessed true strength until I saw how steady of a rock she was. She blew me away, which didn't surprise me. She amazes me every day.
Hearing your first cry stopped my heart and brought tears of joy to my eyes. After nine months of waiting and talking to your mom’s stomach, you were finally here. And seeing her hold you made me fall in love all over again.
Sorry if that sounds sappy, but it’s true. She looked right at me with happy tears in her eyes and said, “Bucky, look! Look at what we made! It's our little Nugget!” and my heart swelled. She insisted on calling you that and it rubbed off on me. Believe me when I say that you are the luckiest baby in the world to have the mother that you do.
He stopped writing again to glance at his wedding band, smiling all over again. He thought your love filled his heart before, but it overflowed now. It warmed him like nothing else ever could.
You’re probably wondering why I’m writing this since a lot of time will pass by the time you read this. Sometimes I may write to remember things I’m afraid I’ll forget. Other days I’ll write to reflect and get the words out when my mind is too loud. But my hope is that this will be a gift to you.
A bond for the two of us.
As you grow, I’ll fill the pages with the memories of you and our family. I’ll tell you about my past and how it shaped me into the man I am today. How your mom and I met and how I somehow convinced her to fall in love with me. And I’ll be sure to tell you about the day she told me we were going to have you and how that news changed my life for the better.
He swallowed the lump in his throat before he continued.
I also plan to fill this with your milestones. Like your first smile. Is it selfish if I hope to see it first? If not me, your mom. She’d love that. Your first step. Being selfish again, but I hope it’s me you walk toward so I can pick you up and tell you how proud I am. And your first word. I hope it’s Mama.
Though I won’t object if you say Dada.
Bucky chuckled as he imagined the look of betrayal on your beautiful face if your son said “Dada” first instead of “Mama”.
I’m sure some days I’ll have more to say than others. If I’m lucky, I can pass on life lessons and words of wisdom. Some days though I may not say the right thing and I know I’ll stumble along the way as I figure out how to be the best dad to you. I say “best” and not “perfect” because perfection doesn’t exist. Except for you and your mom.
The beauty of it is that I don’t have to go it alone. I’ll have your mom by my side to help guide and protect you and to watch you flourish. And my hope is that you know as you look through the pages how much we love you.
Even on days I may not get it right, I’m your dad, you’re my son, and you’ll always have a home with me and a place in my heart.
I’ll write more when I can, Nugget. Until then, I love you.
Always,
Dad
Bucky set the pen down as he exhaled. It wasn't perfect, but it didn't have to be. It was a start. As long as he put his heart into his words, it would shine from the pages.
And he couldn't wait for all the adventures he’d have with his little Nugget.
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I hope you lovelies are excited to take this journey with Bucky. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️
Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi
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Map of Soho Good Omens Season 2 - Part 1 (Location and general map)
Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
Update: Map now identifies Lucky Snake and the coffee shop listed in Aziraphale's clipboard may indeed be Give Me Coffee I think we all have wondered how the GO Soho looks like and where it would be in real London. So using all the screenshots, BTS pictures and videos I could find I did my best to map out where things are. It is not to scale but everything I could see is there. I originally had all the pictures and explanations in this post but soon it became obvious it was going to be too long and impractical so I had to split it in different posts and I hope I got it right. The map has five reference points (circle with two diverging lines); imagine the circle is you, standing in the set, and the lines are your viewpoint if you were taking a picture from there. The left side of Whickber Street (#1 and #2) is in Part 2, the intersecting street (#3 and #4) is in Part 3 and the right half of Whickber Street (#5) is in Part 4.
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As to where the bookshop would be in real London. We know that Whickber Street is supposed to be Berwick Street so let's start there. The intersecting street is not obvious from the show. In this post Neil said he imagines the bookshop to be where Gosh! Comics is (Peter Street) while Michael Ralph and Douglas McKinnon probably put it at The Week (on Broadwick Street). Because it is ambiguous and really you can do whatever you want, I just left it as "intersecting street". We know from the book that Crowley takes Wardour Street after the bookshop fire. Wardour is behind Berwick so in our map it would be where the Chinese Buffet Restaurant is, considering they run more or less parallel. On the other side, we have the Windmill Theatre located on Great Windmill Street. From Berwick St. and Peter St. it takes three minutes to walk to the theatre, it is that close! (yes, I know, Crowley was conducting business two blocks from the bookshop while not talking to Aziraphale for 80 years). I have never been in that part of London so I used Google Maps streetview and based only on that, I like the corner of Berwick St. and Broadwick St. better. It has the crooked intersection but the proximity of the theatre matches Peter St. better, so whatever works better for you!
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There is one place missing from the set map though: Brown's World of Carpets! It is nowhere to be found, we simply don't know where it is My very personal headcanon is that it is nothing but a desk inside the furniture store. I find that idea of the guy most worried about storefront looks being the one without a storefront very amusing, but don't mind me, it is just my very silly hc XD Now, we know Aziraphale has a list for the shops he needs to visit. And we know he wrote it in alphabetical order which begs the question: Where is the Dirty Donkey?! Are they not invited? And what about the fabric shop? And Bilton Scaggs? Battye and Palm? The News Agency? Is "Mo Coffee? No Coffee?" supposed to be Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death? Or is there another coffee shop somewhere? @crow-bee23 suggested it could be "Me Coffee" which it is entirely possible, the full name is kind of long. So many questions to ask Mr. Brown.
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Anyway, I put pictures and details on the shops in parts 2, 3 and 4. Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
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neotaissong · 2 months
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"And I think its a really fearful time for young writers with a bellyful of fire. It's a fearful time cos if you listen to the voices (the market forces, the distractions) you're not going to get fire out of you, you're going to get water out of you. But for godssake, I want you to get fire out of you and that's why we've been having this conversation, to reawaken the fire, the wonder, the splendour, the misery, the mystery, why is it we write?
We don't write to be polite on the page. We don't write to get nods in the mind. We write to explode the inner rooms of people. So that the rooms in which they read, opens out into the whole world and they feel the radiance touching everybody and they can feel for one moment, that they can be anything or nothing if they chose to be, but just to be hit by that extraordinary vigour and power that a true piece of writing - whether its a sonnet, whether it's a poem of four lines by Rilke, whether it's a short story by your beloved Chekov, whether it's a punch by Toni Morrison or a head-butt by Ralph Ellison, that's what we want. We want the raw, fire.
(Thats what we were trying to contribute to here) you shouldn't pay any attention to the market forces, we should write from our spirits, whether that gets published, I don't know how we break that hegemony, I don't know how we do that. (how do you get a contract? how do you pay your bills? how do you pay your rent? how do you feed your children? - There was a time when writers formed co-operatives and published each others works, that's gone now that's all disappeared) He (Cornel) talks about being a prisoner of hope, me too, as far as literature."
Ben Okri in conversation with Cornell West, University of Cambridge, 2013
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rylie-m · 1 month
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redemption
Summary:
 In which Y/N Thomas is left to raise her and Rafe Cameron’s baby after he refuses to take responsibility for it. He shows up after two years, ready to redeem himself, but is it too late?
Prologue:
The doorbell ringing wakes your sleeping toddler. Quietly cursing whomever is at the front door, hoping that they leave, you walk to your little boy's room to calm him down. “Hi sweet boy, momma’s here. ‘S okay, just the doorbell.” You say quietly, while walking over to his toddler bed. “Do you want a snack? Let’s get you a snack.” You get him in his highchair and cut up some strawberries for him to eat while you go check to see who was at the front door. When you look out the window, you see someone who had sworn himself out of your life 2 years ago. Rafe Cameron. 
Your eyes widen as you see him standing there, taller, buffer, tanner. He looks good, and you hate it. His buzzed hair is just as blond as it’s always been, but the linen button down is new. When you knew him he still had greasy, longer hair and would never be caught dead wearing business casual. You wonder what he could possibly be doing at your home in Charleston, but you have kept up with his sister, Sarah, so it’s no surprise that he’s eventually tracked you down. 
You slowly open the door. “Rafe?” He’s speechless, you look even better than you did when you were 20. Even after the baby. “Hi Y/N.” He says, ever so charming. “How are you?” He smiles, hoping to recover from the moment of weakness he had shown. Furrowing your brows, you stare at him. “What are you doing here?” You ask, hiding yourself mostly behind your front door. “I’m in town for a conference. Was hopin’ we could talk.” He says, trying to stay casual. “I’m really busy, sorry, Rafe.” Hoping that will shoo him off. 
Suddenly, a little voice can be heard, “Momma!” Rafe’s eyes widen and his breath quickens, he knows who it is. It’s the person he came to see in the first place. “Do you need to get that, Momma?” He asks, too playfully for your opinion. You furrow your brows again. “Yep. Sorry, Rafe. Very busy. Have a good time in Charleston.” While you start to close the door, leaving him standing on your front porch. 
Rafe knocks on the door again, praying that he can get through to you. “Y/N, please I just want to talk to you.” He says, “We don’t even have to talk right now, but I want to talk at some point and this is the only way I can get to you.” He states, through the front door. You get your 2 year old, Crew, settled in the living room, and open the front door again, Rafe looks in and gets a glimpse of the toddler. Dirty blond hair, big blue eyes, and definitely taller than the average 2 year old. His eyes widen and he feels a wave of guilt cross through him. You follow his line of sight and quickly cover the little boy. “If you want to talk, we can talk tomorrow. I have the day off, and Crew will be at daycare. There’s a cafe down the street, it’s right by the flower shop and Ralph Lauren. I’ll see you there at 10 am.” You say, flustered, before closing the door. Leaving Rafe standing on your porch, dumbfounded.
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bokettochild · 7 months
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Social Butterfly
Sometimes I just want to touch on the fact that Legend is not, in fact, the worst possible human being
He has friends
He has so many friends!
"No, Time, don't shoot that Dodongo! No, yeah, that's my old friend Demitri! He totally is chill and won't keep attacking if you stop hitting him, guys. Wait you want proof? Okay! Hey, Dimitri! It's Link! Yeah, see? Told you!"
Or you know, there's also Ricky and Moosh. Twilight is over here complaining about Wild's choice in steeds and Legend is sitting there wondering if now would be a bad time to mention that he got carried around in a murder-rabbit's front pocket, or that yeah, he's ridden bears too, but his flies.
Oh, the robbers who are holding them up on the road? The other heroes are all preparing for a beat down but Legend just groans and starts chewing out Ghanti because, seriously girl? You've filled the quota for how many times you can rob me this year! Find another sucker!
And when they run into the actual goddesses? Legend greets them all so chill, just a "hey, Din! Long time no see, how's things with the circus troupe? Nayru, how's Ralph doing? Did he finally master a spin attack or is he still struggling with that? No? Aw well, sucks to be him! And hey, Farore! Yeah, I'm going okay, how are you?"
Meanwhile the other heroes are just...okay, yeah, this is happening. Legend's friends with the goddesses and some strange animals. But then there's the witch girl who keeps running into them, seemingly targeting Legend? And every sage seems to know this guy, but there's like.....14 of them? And no matter where they go, it's just like "Hey, Vasu! Got any bigger ring boxes in? No. Aw well, I have some duplicates to trade." The librarian? The random seed farmers? The village mayors? The soldiers?
Legend knows literally everyone. The heroes can't even keep track of the names but they still keep coming. Legend finally starts telling stories of his adventures and the amount of people he names is just confusing. "No, no, Syrup is the old witch and Irene is her granddaughter." "Who's Rosa? Oh, she's a pop-star I dated this one time." "Raven? Oh, well, he's sort of a hero but not a chosen hero and he looks like Time but minus a decade and most of the trauma. Also he's my ancestor. Anyways..."
He just...knows everyone.
No one is sure how to reconcile the wary and guarded hero they know with the apparent social butterfly he just has to be to know all these people!
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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 11 months
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Who Taught You How to Love Like That? - Chapter Three
Pairing: Modern!Aemond Targaryen x female character (third person) Warnings: Sugar daddy/sugar baby dynamics. Smut. Oral (f receiving). Mild angst. Word count: ~3.1k Series masterlist
Chapter summary: The dinner date happens, and much more besides that.
Author's note: No gods, no masters, no tag lists. Only scabs community label fics. If you find yourself tempted to slap a label on this, please block me instead.
She hasn’t been able to shake the memory of Aemond’s lips since they kissed on Wednesday evening. He’d dropped her home shortly afterwards, letting her know he’d pick her up at 7pm on Friday. Since then her tummy has fluttered every time he crosses her mind. If she closes her eyes she can almost taste the red wine and cigarettes on the plushness of his lips as they’d pressed eagerly against her own.
She knows it is foolish to wish for something more, to expect their arrangement to be something other than transactional, but that kiss had felt like he meant it, so she allows herself a tiny slither of hope to believe there is the possibility for a genuine connection to blossom between them.
Relieved when her last minute annual leave request for Friday is approved, she gets to work on making sure she looks her best. She intends to spend the day face masking, exfoliating and shaving until she is the very picture of perfection for her dinner date.
She’s startled by the buzzer to the flat, rushing to the door to answer the intercom. She lets the delivery driver up, assuming it’s something Mysaria has ordered, but balks when three parcels are handed to her, each of them with her name on.
She opens the first, it contains a black floor length Ralph Lauren off the shoulder gown with a thigh high slit. She holds it against herself in front of the mirror, she knows Aemond is generous to her, but she is still awestruck by the sheer extent of how much he is prepared to spoil her.
The second package is a pair of Jimmy Choo black suede open toe platform sandals with a stiletto heel and delicate ankle strap. She turns the shoes over in her hand, marveling at them, but also wondering how on earth she’ll ever manage to walk in them.
Her phone vibrates and she’s unable to keep the Cheshire cat-like grin from her face as she sees it’s from Aemond.
I saw the tracking information for my gifts update to state they had been delivered. Do you like them?
She fires off a quick response.
I love them :) Thank you xoxo
It’s only after she’s set her phone back down that she remembers there’s a third package, hidden among the wrappings of the first two she’d opened. Her eyes widen as she unwraps it. Agent Provocateur. Aemond has sent her lingerie.
Her palms grow sweaty as her heart races and her thoughts travel faster than her mind has the capacity to keep up with. This clearly meant he anticipated something happening between them this evening. What man sends a woman underwear if he doesn’t expect to see her in it? She isn’t experienced at all. What if he’s disappointed? What if he asked for a refund? Fuck, can sugar daddies even ask that of their sugar babies?
She is broken out of her mild panic when Mysaria comes home. “You in?” She calls out as she closes the front door behind her.
“In here.” She shouts back from her room.
She hears her flatmate toe off her shoes and then pad towards her. She leans against the doorframe, eyeing the packaging and clothes that lay scattered on the carpet and lets out a low whistle.
“Daddy been spoiling you? Lucky girl!” Mysaria says with a grin, which disappears when she sees her worried expression. “What’s the matter?”
She holds up the Agent Provocateur lingerie box by means of response and Mysaria nods in understanding.
“Nothing needs to happen until you feel ready. Why not just try it on and see how you feel?”
She sucks in a steadying breath, attempting to calm herself. There was no harm in trying it on.
It turns out to be a playsuit of sorts. An underwired, padded quarter cup bra with a basque constructed using satin covered black boning and satin straps to create a cage-like effect, complete with suspender straps with gold-toned sliders, with subtle, matching black satin bows. Inside the box is also a flimsy black lace thong and black silk stockings.
“The man’s definitely got taste.” Mysaria says, helping her into it.
They’ve had to boot up her laptop and look up the lingerie on the Agent Provocateur website in order to figure out the intricate series of straps and clasps, and she can’t help but notice the eye watering price that’s listed alongside it online. Fuck. There was no way Aemond wasn’t expecting to sleep with her.
She stands in front of her full-length mirror and runs her hands over her body, looking at the way her breasts sit within the cups of the bra and how the straps of the basque dip and flare with the natural curve of her waist and hips.
“It looks different on the model on the website.” She says nervously, chewing her lip. “What if Aemond doesn’t like it?”
Mysaria snorts derisively. “Girl, please, that model has been airbrushed to shit. You are real and you look hot as fuck. Daddy’s gonna lose his mind when he sees you in that.”
“You really think so?” She asks, turning slightly, still studying herself in the mirror.
Mysaria gives her a playful swat on the backside. “Oh, I know so. Now let’s finish getting you ready.”
Two hours later, her hair and make-up have been perfected by her flatmate, and she stands wearing the dress and shoes that Aemond had gifted her - she has done several practice laps of the living room in the heels, to ensure she doesn’t fall over - the lingerie is snug to her body underneath.
Her nerves disappear the moment Aemond steps out of the car to greet her. His long silver-blonde hair is loose. She has never seen it all down at once, it falls thick and lustrous, well past his shoulders. Yet another well-tailored black suit hugs the broadness of his shoulders and the length of his long legs.
Any uncertainty as to how she ought to say hello dissipates as he cups her jaw and presses a soft kiss to her lips.
“Hi.” He murmurs, keeping her close. “You look beautiful.”
“Hi yourself.” She whispers back. “You don’t look so bad either.”
He helps her into the passenger seat and the drive is spent in comfortable silence, though this time his hand lays a possessive hold on her knee whenever he’s not shifting gears. It leaves tingles across her skin in its wake and the gesture makes her feel lightheaded.
They pull up outside a restaurant called SOLA and Aemond takes her hand as he opens the car door for her.
“I took the liberty of choosing this place because it has a Michelin star. Never actually tried it myself.” He tells her as they walk in.
The dining room is small and intimate, elegantly decorated with an abundance of leafy green plants and sculptural lighting, but she is struck by the distinct lack of other diners.
“Why is no one else here?” She whispers to him as they’re ushered towards their table.
He smirks, watching her take in her surroundings with wide eyes once they are seated, his one seeing eye studies her closely. “I hired the place just for us for tonight. Wanted you all to myself.”
She giggles at that. Such a show off. She expects the food to be equally as flashy, a display of wealth for the sake of it. However, Aemond has ordered ahead of time for the both of them, with choices that suggest a more refined palate that goes beyond merely wanting to splash his cash.
They dine on Kindai bluefin tuna and oysters, paired with crisp white wine and the conversation flows as effortlessly as the wine.
She finds out that there isn’t much in the country from a business standpoint that the Targaryens and Hightowers don’t have a hand in. His father had worked to build an empire alongside his partners Otto and Daemon, prior to his death, and much of it has been left for his children to take care of now that he’s passed. Aemond oversees most of the legal aspects of the business, which is unsurprising to her considering how sharp his mind is.
He listens intently as she tells him more about her history degree and love of fine art. It saddens her when he tells her that originally he’d wanted to study history and philosophy, but had had to give that up to pursue a career in law when his family’s expectations were laid out to him.
It’s obvious there is an abundance of complexities and drama surrounding his family, but she knows better than to attempt to unpick all of that now, especially when the evening is going so well. 
Her skin feels heated every time he reaches across the table to gently stroke the back of her hand with his thumb. His eye contact is intense and with every moment that passes she finds any apprehension she had about sleeping with him simply fading away. She wants him.
“Dessert?” He asks, as the meal draws to a close.
She shakes her head with a slight smile. “Couldn’t eat another bite.”
“A pity.” He says, taking her hand and tugging her from her seat towards him. “I’m still absolutely ravenous.”
“For what- oh!” She gasps as he sits her on the edge of the table in front of him, lifting the skirt of her dress to the side by its thigh slit.
He hums in approval as his eye roves over the bottom half of her lingerie. She feels like there isn’t enough air in the room, her heart hammers wildly against her ribcage as his hands run up and down her legs. His thumbs stroke the creases where her thighs meet her pelvis as he drinks her in.
“W-what if one of the waiters sees?” She asks nervously, squirming against the heat that pools between her legs.
“Well, I suppose we’d better put on a good show for them.” He tells her with a raise of his eyebrow.
He hooks two fingers into the lace of her thong, pulling it to one side before he leans forward, groaning appreciatively as the flat of his tongue strokes gently through her folds.
A soft moan escapes her. No one has ever taken the time or care to do this to her before, she is unsure of what she’s supposed to do in this situation, but the thought leaves her mind entirely as Aemond begins to flick his tongue against her bud before suckling it harshly. She leans back on her elbows as he devours her with his lips and tongue, doing her best to stifle her noises by biting her lip, her chest heaving with the effort to stay quiet.
Her hands fly to his head, burying themselves in his hair as she bucks against his face when he speeds up his movements. Sounds of enjoyment rumble in his chest, sending shockwaves all the way through her body, causing a telltale tightness to rapidly build within her lower belly.
She finally falls apart, shuddering atop the table with a strangled cry when uses the tip of his tongue to draw tight circles against the most sensitive part of her. He pulls away, his face shining with her slick as he lifts her underwear back into place. He grins, wiping his mouth with a napkin.
“You okay?” He asks.
She nods, feeling dazed. “Yeah…just…I need a minute.”
Aemond chuckles, smoothing her dress back into place. “Understandable.”
“That was…wow.” Is all she’s able to say once she feels lucid enough.
Aemond stands, helping her from the table. “The bill was taken care of in advance. Let’s head back to my place. I want to be somewhere where you don’t have to stifle those pretty noises you make.”
His hand sits higher on her thigh on the drive back. A mixture of nervousness and excitement has her pulse thrumming from thoughts of what he’ll do to her, of what he’s just done to her. Nobody had ever gone down on her before, but now Aemond has, and on top of a fucking restaurant table of all places.
Aemond lives in the penthouse of a modernised high rise. It’s minimalist. All of the fittings and furnishings are a combination of matte black and shiny silver chrome. It’s clean almost to the point of feeling sterile. It’s obvious he doesn’t spend a lot of time here.
She grins when she sees the elderly doberman raise her head from her bed as they walk through to the living room.
“You must be Vhagar.” She coos softly, kneeling and offering a hand for her to sniff. She scratches gently around the dog’s ears, giggling at the way she narrows her eyes in satisfaction, lifting her salt and pepper snout towards the ceiling.
“She’s not normally fond of strangers.” Aemond muses, as he kneels beside her, ruffling Vhagar’s head.
“The trick is to approach from their level and offer your hand before you try to touch.” She tells him. “Most animals that don’t like people just haven’t been approached by the right ones.”
He stares at her for a few moments, a small smile upon his lips, before he finally breaks the silence.
“Can I get you anything?” He asks, standing and walking towards the kitchen.
“I’m good, thanks.” She follows him and they hover by the kitchen island, simply looking at each other before he surges forward to kiss her.
The force of it feels like it knocks all the air from her lungs, it’s hungry and possessive and she returns it with equal enthusiasm, whimpering as her tongue meets his. He dominates the movement, his hand cupping the back of her head as he backs her into the bedroom.
She topples back onto the bed at his soft but insistent shove. Black sheets of a no doubt ridiculously high thread count feel like buttery silk around her as Aemond kneels before her to tug off her dress.
“Fuck.” He mutters as she lays before him in the lingerie he’d bought for her. “Yeah, we’ll be leaving this on. And these.” He grips the heel of her shoe, as he places a kiss to the inside of her ankle, before letting it drop again.
She watches, transfixed as he sheds his own clothing. Aemond is a work of art. His chest and abs subtly toned, he is all lithe, corded muscle, and she clenches at the sight of him. He is already hard when he strips all the way off, and nerves nibble away at her as she looks at the sheer size of him. Long and thick, lightly veined with a blush pink tip, her mouth waters slightly at the sight, yet there is a part of her that worries it might hurt. She had only ever slept with her ex before, and despite her inexperience she knew enough to know he wasn’t well endowed, nothing compared to this.
Aemond crawls over the top of her, trailing hot, open mouthed kisses to her neck and collarbones that make her writhe beneath him, each one sending warm ripples of arousal through her.
His fingers dip between her legs, pushing past her thong to stroke at her. “Shit,” He hisses. “Still so wet for me, I don’t even have to prepare you.”
He takes a condom from the nightstand, tearing it open and rolling it over the length of him before repositioning himself between her legs.
They both suck in a sharp breath as he begins to push inside, the stretch of him against her sensitive walls is both too much and not enough all at the same time.
“So fucking tight.” He grits outs, his grip on her hips vice like as he bottoms out.
He lays like that, forehead rested against hers as they both adjust, only daring to move his hips once she relaxes.
His strokes are smooth, even and precise, tapping a spot inside of her with every thrust that has her clutching his shoulders and moaning his name.
“Feels so good.” She mewls desperately as his hips piston against her own.
“Oh she likes that.” He hisses, almost mockingly, placing one of her legs over his shoulder and pounding harder into her.
Her eyes roll back at the sensation, her hands grip frantically at Aemond’s biceps and then the bedsheets beside her as he rubs at her clit with his thumb in tandem with each of his thrusts.
“You gonna cum again for me, pretty girl?” He asks huskily. “I can feel you squeezing me.”
“Fuck!” Is all she’s able to cry out in response as she feels herself tighten and spasm around him, her back arching off of the bed with the force of the pleasure that washes over her.
Her own release triggers Aemond’s and he snarls, holding her tight against his chest as he stills and spills into the condom.
He pulls out, depositing it into the wastebin and pulls her into his arms.
She feels utterly spent, boneless and dazed in the wake of what she’s just experienced, but Aemond isn’t prepared to let her doze off just yet.
He moves down the bed, unbuckling each of her shoes and removes them. He ushers her to the bathroom with a firm tap to her thigh. Once she’s finished and settled back into bed with a glass of water, he begins to slowly unclasp each of the straps of her body suit, softly rubbing and kissing each of the indentations made by the bones of it as it falls away from her body.
“You’re gorgeous.” He whispers to her, stroking her hair as she drifts off to sleep.
She awakens the next morning, surprised at how refreshed she feels considering the events of the previous evening. She smiles to herself as she snuggles into the luxurious feeling plushness of the bed, thoughts of how good Aemond had made her feel playing on a loop in her mind. She is startled slightly when she rolls over to find his spot empty.
A note has been left on the bedside table.
Sorry, had to run. Have transferred you money for cab fare - A.
She sighs. She hadn’t expected breakfast in bed, but she can’t deny the sinking feeling in her stomach at the fact he hadn’t bothered to stick around. Rummaging through her things that lay scattered on the floor, she retrieves her phone to look at the time when she sees the banking app notification.
£5,000 from A. Targaryen. Her heart twists painfully in her chest. That wasn’t cab fare, it was payment for last night.
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supernovafics · 1 year
Text
𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐒𝐓
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pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader
word count: 6.3k words
summary: in which the summer of ‘84 was both the best and worst time of your life
warnings: explicit language, underaged drinking, angst, fluff, implied smut, cheating
author’s note: second part to cardigan (but could be read out of order). i fully did not expect this to end up this long but hope y’all enjoy<33 (full “folklore” album series masterlist here!)
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
“but i can see us lost in the memory. august slipped away into a moment in time.”
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
July 19, 1984
Ten. 
That was how many days in a row you and Steve had seen each other. 
From the first time you two talked to one another outside of Ralph’s Sandwich Shop, his first ever words to you being, “Potato chips on a sandwich? That’s kinda weird,” and the conversation that proceeded from that somehow led you to watching a movie in the theater room at his house that same night. To now this— him spending the majority of his afternoon with you at the library, where you had been working for the past year and a half. 
You wondered how long the two of you would keep the streak alive. 
If it was anyone else you probably would have gotten sick of seeing them that many days in a row, but with Steve you weren’t. In fact, you looked forward to whenever you got to see him again. And maybe that feeling, the anticipation toward seeing this guy who you probably shouldn’t even be seeing this often anyway, should’ve worried you. 
Whenever you thought about how easily the two of you were able to go from absolutely nothing to this— an unlikely friendship that somehow felt like you’d known each other so much longer than barely two weeks— it startled you. 
Before, you had simply known of him; of course, you had, he was practically royalty at your high school. “King Steve,” a charmer, a perpetual flirter, somehow dating straight-A student Nancy Wheeler. It was the combination of those things that told you during that first conversation you had with him that you should stay away from him, but for some reason, you still said yes. 
Maybe it was because the home theater he had been bragging about sounded way too tempting not to take up the offer. Or maybe it was because you liked being an idiot sometimes. 
If it was the latter that was true then you still were an idiot because there you were ten days later still hanging out with him and not regretting it one bit. 
“I need to bring you better games here,” Steve said. He was standing across from you on the other side of the counter. 
“What’s wrong with Uno? Is it because you keep losing?” You jokingly asked, a small smile on your face as you started shuffling the deck. “Also, I’m technically working right now, so I shouldn’t even be playing any games with you.”
“There’s no one here except you and me,” He said and then gestured to the quietness that surrounded you both. “Actually, I think the only other person that’s been in here all day was that old lady who just wanted directions to the park.”
You loved your job at the library and you really didn’t mind how it was rarely busy, especially during the summer, because it meant that you could spend most of your shifts reading instead of helping someone find what they needed or reshelving books. Now the majority of your non-busy moments during your shift were spent with Steve. 
“What are you doing tonight?” He asked as you began dealing the cards, because what else was there to do but play another round of Uno? 
“My guess is hanging out with you,” You answered. “What’s happening?” 
“Party,” He stated simply, and you realized that probably should’ve been your first guess. “Need us to be beer pong partners again.” 
It had been last week, two days after you and Steve unspokenly decided that hanging out with one another would become a common occurrence, when he dragged you to a party; some too big thing at Matthew Lancaster’s lake house. 
A beer pong table was set up, which was not all surprising for a high school party, and you suggested that you and Steve play and be on a team with one another. You were insanely good, practically making every shot, and Steve wasn’t too bad at playing either, which made your team pretty unstoppable. It was a random hidden talent of yours that you would only show off every once in a blue moon because you deliberately didn’t frequent parties. 
“I’ve retired for the time being,” You told him. “I can’t show off my beer pong skills too often or it won’t be a cool talent anymore.”
He laughed a bit at that but still nodded. “Okay, what do you wanna do tonight instead?” 
“Don’t let me stop you from going to the party.”
Steve shrugged and shook his head. “Probably wouldn’t be fun without you, anyway.”
His words confused you as much as they made you feel so happy. And you quickly pushed that “happy” feeling away because you knew just how fast it could lead to feeling other things; things that would make you look like the worst person in the world.
Once again, you wondered why you were doing this. Why were you allowing yourself to get close to him when you’d probably just look like an idiot in the end? And why had he wanted to talk to you in the first place? Those fleeting questions would hit you a lot over the past few days, but you’d quickly push them away because you didn’t want to think too hard about everything. However, this time you couldn’t force them away. 
“Why?” You asked, breaking eye contact with him for the first time probably that entire afternoon. “Why… are we friends right now?”
If he was surprised or confused by the randomness of your question, he didn’t show it. 
“I don’t know. I wanted to talk to you that day, so I did it,” He made the answer sound so simple. “I didn’t really expect it to turn into this friendship, but it’s nice finally having something that actually feels so easy.”
What about you and Nancy wasn’t easy? 
You wanted to ask that but refrained from doing so. He probably didn’t mean her when he said that. You knew that the only reason why he was with you instead of her, and had been for the past ten days, was because she was out of town for the summer. That thought hurt a bit, knowing that you were essentially some sort of “consolation prize,” but it kept you from looking too much into things. You took everything Steve said that could be read as flirtatious with a grain of salt and forced yourself to see it as solely platonic. 
And you’d rather it all be completely platonic anyway because you really liked the friendship you’d developed with him. 
“You’re right. This does feel easy,” You ultimately responded, smiling at him because now that the unspoken lines were finally verbally drawn— the two of you were friends; nothing more, nothing less— you felt the tiniest bit better about it all. “But, I’m glad it does. I’m happy we’re friends.”
Steve smiled back at you. “Me too.” 
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
“you back beneath the sun. wishin’ i could write my name on it.”
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
July 28, 1984
The only reason why you allowed Steve to bring you to this party was because you were a sucker for a bonfire. 
And the only reason why you were currently drunk off your ass was because you couldn’t say no to a game of hide and seek, especially a drinking version of the childish game, which Steve had suggested and you quickly agreed to. 
There was something about this game that made you realize that maybe your entire friendship was a game; a game of who would break first. But, that was something to think about at a different time. Or actually not at all, because thinking further about that would probably only complicate things. 
It was easy to pretend that there was nothing more to you and him when you both were sober. It was also so much easier to lie to yourself that you didn’t feel anything romantic toward him and that you didn’t see that maybe he actually felt the same way too.
There was a constant back and forth happening in your mind, with you continuously telling yourself that being friends with Steve wasn’t a bad idea, even though maybe it was because it was slowly making you want something more. Sometimes it felt as if it made sense to like him; it felt obvious. The way you could talk to each other about anything and everything mixed with how constantly you two wanted to spend time together made you fall in so deep so fast. 
But, you couldn’t accept or think about any of that, and the reasons why were painfully obvious. 
However, with the alcohol currently clouding your brain, that felt like a slightly different story. 
“Sitting behind a tree? Not your best hiding spot.”
Hearing Steve’s voice right then should’ve made you feel at least the tiniest bit upset because it meant that you lost that round of hide and seek, but you drunkenly smiled up at him. 
“I wanted to be original and we’ve been playing for so long I feel like we’ve done everything else at this point. But, that was at least two minutes, though, right?”
“It was actually barely thirty seconds.”
“Oh, wow,” You said with a laugh as you extended a hand up toward him so that he could help you up. You wobbled a bit before getting your balance and then you grabbed the red solo cup in Steve’s free hand to drink the rest of what was left in it as your punishment for losing; the exact contents of the drink were unknown, but it tasted fruity. 
When you were done, you handed the cup back to him and then leaned back against the tree because it somehow felt nice and you weren’t bothered by the roughness of it touching the parts of your skin that the tank top you were wearing didn’t cover.
There were a ton of people at the infamous “Lover’s Lake” because of the party, but nobody had been paying attention to you and Steve running around like five-year-olds playing hide and seek and getting severely drunk in the process.  
The lopsided grin taking over Steve’s features let you know that he was just as inebriated as you were, maybe even more so because he’d been drinking a bit before you two started the game. 
“Maybe we should be done with hide and seek now.”
You gave him a nod. “That sounds like a good idea.” 
Things became quiet for a few moments with the two of you solely staring at each other in the darkness and ignoring the loud rowdiness of everyone else who was only a few feet away. Steve closed a bit of the distance between you both and leaned in close to you; his gaze flickered down to your lips for a hint of a second before going right back to your eyes.  
If this was any other moment, your mind would be running a million miles a minute, screaming at you to not allow the inevitable to happen. But, somehow, you were actually calm. 
“We can’t do that, friend,” You told him, making your voice sound as serious as possible, but you couldn’t help but smile a bit. 
“I know,” He responded but still shut the final space of distance between you both, bypassing your lips and kissing your cheek instead. “That’s okay, though, right?”
The reasonable side of you was obviously telling you to say “no,” but it was hard to make yourself care enough to listen to it. “I’ll allow it.”
The three words came out so quietly, but Steve heard you. He kissed your other cheek and then your forehead and then your nose before pulling away and smiling at you. 
Before he could say anything, you did the same to him; kissing both of his cheeks, his forehead, and his nose, and then pulling back to lean against the tree again. That time it was your eyes that glanced down at his lips before going back to his eyes. 
You were so close to doing it, and he almost begged you to, but then you were pushing off of the tree and asking him to turn around. 
“Piggyback ride to the car, please?”
“We can’t drive right now,” He said as he leaned down a bit so you could hop onto his back. 
You nodded even though he couldn’t see you. “I know, but I will die if I don’t sit down.”
The walk to your car should’ve taken less than a minute, but instead, it nearly took five because, of course, the two of you got a little lost and it took way too long to realize that the first car you had walked past was yours. 
“God, we’re acting like such idiots right now,” You said, laughing as Steve let you down so you could get into the car. 
He laughed too as he got in on the passenger side. “Yeah, definitely not our finest moment.”   
You sighed in contentment when you leaned back against the seat, immediately finding comfort in it, which definitely said a lot about how drunk and exhausted you were because you never usually found your car as super comfortable. 
You turned on your side to face Steve, and as if feeling your gaze on him, he turned to look at you as well. You silently admired each other. Sometimes it felt as if a thousand things were being said in the silences you two shared with one another, things that would probably always be left unsaid. 
“I really like you,” He whispered suddenly and you realized that maybe not everything silently said would be left unspoken. 
You let out a small breath before closing your eyes because it felt too hard to look at him right then. “I really like you too.”
“Please let me kiss you.”
It was difficult to describe exactly what his words managed to do to you, and you tried your hardest to disregard those feelings. 
“We can’t.” You shook your head, eyes still shut. “It’ll ruin everything.”
“What if that’s okay?” He said, voice still quiet. 
It could’ve been easy.
To finally do what you both had desperately wanted to do for weeks at this point, but had refused to admit. And doing it at this moment instead of any other time because, with the drunken states you both were in, none of this would be remembered. Which would also mean that it didn’t really happen, right? 
Your eyes finally opened and you looked at him. “Neither of us is gonna remember this conversation in the morning.”
“You’re probably right.”
“And if you did, you’d regret saying any of this,” You said, and your words were met with silence from him. You couldn’t tell if that meant that they were the truth, or instead, quite far from it. 
Even in your inebriated state, you were too scared to push him further and get an answer because you were unsure which response would be worse; “Yes, I’d regret it,” or “No, I wouldn’t regret it at all.”
Before he could potentially say a version of either of those responses, you began speaking again. “I’m really tired.” 
You then pulled your eyes away from him and looked straight ahead at the people that were still partying around the fire. A part of you wanted to join them, but the other part of you just wanted to fall asleep. 
“Me too,” Steve said and with how long he had been quiet, you were actually surprised to hear his voice right then.
Both of you fell asleep just like that for the time being, putting an end to a conversation that would not be talked about in the morning because just as you’d both assumed, it seemed as if it had been long forgotten.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
“salt air, and the rust on your door. i never needed anything more. whispers of ‘are you sure?’ ‘never have i ever before.’”
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
July 31, 1984
The sun had long ago set behind the trees, but you and Steve still had no plans to leave his pool anytime soon. 
You swam close to him, your hands finding his shoulders and then pushing down to dunk him under the water. A laugh fell from your lips as you immediately started swimming away, but Steve’s hand quickly found your waist and pulled you back toward him.
“What was that for?” He asked, one arm still wrapped around you, causing your back to be firmly pressed against his chest, while his other hand pushed back his wet hair. 
“For pushing me in the pool earlier,” You answered, only trying for a moment to wriggle out of his grasp but failing miserably so you stopped. 
“That was hours ago.”
“Revenge is best when you don’t see it coming,” You said, smiling widely. 
He laughed against your ear. “You’re evil.” 
You attempted to pull away again but he was still holding on to you, so instead you maneuvered so you were simply facing him instead. 
You were smiling up at him, and you assumed he’d match it with a smile of his own, but he didn’t. Instead, there was a certain look on his face that you couldn’t necessarily decipher. You almost asked him what was wrong, but he started speaking before you got the chance to.
“I remember the conversation we had in your car at the bonfire.”  
You could feel your heart start to race a bit, not expecting things to take that turn. “Oh… You do?”
He nodded his head. “Do you?”
“I remember the whole thing,” You told him, and that was entirely true. You’d spent the past few days constantly thinking about that moment and running through every single thing that was said. You had also tried your hardest to push the memory away because it seemed as if Steve didn’t remember it. 
“I don’t regret anything I said,” He told you and then a hand came up to cup your cheek. “I still really wanna kiss you.”
You were quiet for a moment, letting Steve’s words settle over you, before responding to him in a small voice. “Are you sure?”
Instead of verbally responding, he gave you the smallest of nods and closed the tiny bit of space between you both, dipping his head down and slotting his lips against yours. 
All you could think at that moment was finally.  
Finally, you were this close to one another.
Finally, you were kissing.
Finally, you were doing what you had wanted to do for so long.
The thing that both of you told each other and even convinced yourselves wasn’t going to happen, finally happened. And in a way, it sucked because neither of you felt bad about it, at least not bad enough to stop. 
Your legs wrapped around his waist beneath the water and your arms came up to wrap around his neck, one hand finding its way into the hair at the nape of his neck.
You weren’t in the deepest part of the pool anymore so Steve was able to stand, but both of you were still almost completely submerged in the water. He walked you both over to one of the sides of the pool, pressing you back against it and deepening the kiss. 
Nothing was said, and nothing needed to be said. In fact, you thought that if either of you said something, it would ruin the perfection that was that moment and harshly shove you both back to reality. A reality that told you that this was the farthest thing that should have been happening. 
For the time being, with Steve against you and his lips finding that particularly sensitive part of your neck, you were happy living in this fantasy world. It was a dream that you didn’t want to wake up from, and you convinced yourself that it wouldn’t hurt too bad when you did finally have to wake up from it. 
“We should…” You took a breath, biting back the moan that threatened to spill from your lips as Steve continued the assault on your neck. Your next word should’ve been “stop,” but stopping this was the absolute last thing you wanted to do. “We should go to your room.” 
He finally, and sadly, pulled away from your neck and pressed a quick kiss against your lips. “That sounds like a great idea.”
You detached yourselves from one another just enough to step out of the pool and into his house, wet bodies leaving drops of water across the floor that weren’t the slightest bit cared about. 
You couldn’t keep your hands off of each other.
After getting as close as you just had been, it was hard to go back to how it used to be; the friendliness and innocence that had surrounded the brief touches you two would usually share. Instead, your hand was intertwined with his as he led you up the stairs, and then his arms circled around you when you entered his room, cocooning you in the towel he’d grabbed from behind his door. 
It was you that kissed him that second time. 
You reached up to push his wet hair back and then leaned in, inwardly sighing in contentment. Both of his hands found your waist, causing the towel to fall and it was immediately long forgotten. 
When you pulled away you took the smallest step back and simply looked at him, his pretty face and soft brown eyes that were full of nothing but adoration for you. You tried your hardest to find something within you that resembled regret or made you want to stop this, but you couldn’t. And you knew exactly what that said about you, but it was also difficult to force yourself to care about that either. 
Steve eagerly brought you close to him again, which made you smile into the kiss he pulled you into. He slowly started leading you back toward his bed.
“Wait,” You said, detaching your lips from his and softly pushing him back a bit. “It would be really rude of me to lay on your bed with my bathing suit on.”
He slowly nodded and swallowed harshly as you removed your top first, letting that fall to the floor, and then going to your bottoms. “That’s very considerate of you.” 
You only smiled at him and his sudden nervousness, which managed to wash away any and all of your own shyness at that moment. 
His eyes met yours. “You’re so fucking pretty.” 
“You’re not too bad yourself,” You whispered, reaching out to grab his hands and pull him close to you again. You were about to kiss him again, but it was then that you noticed the time on the clock that was hanging on the wall behind him. “Shit, shit.”
His eyebrows furrowed in confusion and a look of concern crossed his face. “What’s wrong?”
“The time,” You answered and then sighed as you started grabbing your bathing suit. “It’s 12:40, and if I’m not home by one, my mom will kill me and then you.” 
“Your mom loves me too much to kill me,” Steve responded, grabbing a t-shirt for you to slip on too. 
“Yeah, kinda weird how after only one meeting where you two barely even talked, she somehow likes you more than me now,” You said as you put on his shirt which kind of swallowed you whole but you loved it and already knew that you would never be giving it back to him.  
You looked up at him and your next words came out quietly. “I’m sorry I have to ruin this right now.” 
Steve shook his head at you. “It’s okay. Don’t be sorry.” Both of his hands found your hips again, squeezing softly. “We’ll pick up where we left off next time.” 
You couldn’t help but smile at that. “Next time?” 
“Mhm, next time,” He said, smiling back at you and nodding. “If you want there to be one?”
“I’d like that,”  You responded and pressed a quick kiss against his lips. 
Even as you headed back downstairs and Steve walked you to your car, kissing you for a few more minutes before you reluctantly drove away, your stomach had yet to fill with even a hint of regret or guilt. 
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
“wanting was enough. for me, it was enough. to live for the hope of it all.”
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
August 12, 1984
The constant sound of something softly pinging against your window pulled your attention away from the book you were reading in your bed. 
There was only one person that could've been throwing something at your window, but still, you were the tiniest bit surprised when you opened your curtains and saw Steve standing on your front lawn. 
Even though seeing him was such a natural thing at this point, it made sense that you were at least a little surprised because no part of you felt secure with this “thing” you had going on with him, which was more than just a friendship but so much less than any type of actual relationship. You lived in the perpetual state that it would all abruptly end. And maybe that thought process came from you knowing that eventually, this would all have to come to an end; there weren’t that many days of summer left. 
But then there was that tiny slither of hope that maybe it all wouldn’t have to end. You kept that thought buried deep down inside of you, though. 
You lifted your window. “Throwing rocks at my window? That’s very rom-com of you.”
“Sometimes I like to be cheesy,” Steve said, smiling at you. 
It was a sweet, adoring smile that you shouldn’t have been on the receiving end of; it was a smile that didn’t belong to you. It was so easy to see that, but it was nearly impossible to actually do something about it and let him go.
“Can I come up?” He asked. “I promise I’ll be quiet and your mom won’t hear me.” 
“She’s gone for the weekend, actually,” You told him, smiling a bit. “I’ll be down in a second.”
When you opened the front door, he was quick to greet you with a kiss before pulling you in for a hug. 
After that first kiss in his pool, there was an almost immediate shift that happened. An easy shift where you’d gone from constantly telling yourselves that everything was solely platonic to finally allowing yourselves to do every little thing that deep down you both had always wanted to do. With him now always greeting you with soft kisses, and you secretly spending so many nights in his bed because his parents were never home and most of the time it was easy to make up some sort of excuse to your mom. 
Something else shifted too, though. It was a shift that neither of you spoke about because you never really wanted to acknowledge what exactly your friendship had transformed into and what it really meant. Not talking about any of it was a decision that you were unsure if it was completely yours or his because it was all so unspoken. 
When you thought about it hard enough though, you could see that the decision was mutual, because on both sides it was easier to pretend that none of the outside things existed. In that fairytale, he didn’t have a girlfriend, he didn’t belong to anyone else. You were his and he was solely yours. 
“Tell me about this thing that your parents forced you to go to tonight,” You said as Steve kicked off his shoes by the front door and the two of you started heading up the stairs. One of his hands was intertwined with yours and there was barely an inch of space between you both. It had become really hard not to be close to one another.
“It was this big event for my dad’s job, and they always drag me to stuff like that as a way to prove to his coworkers that they’re ‘good parents.’ It was very boring,” Steve responded with a small sigh and then gave your hand a light squeeze. “It would’ve been much less painful if you came.”
He sat down on the foot of your bed when the two of you walked into your room, and the oversized t-shirt you had on as your pajamas rode up a lot as you settled yourself in his lap, knees on either side of his thighs and hands resting on his shoulders. It was an un-innocent position that, for the time being, felt quite the opposite. 
“Going to something like that is something a girlfriend would do, not…” That was the first time you’d even minorly referred to Nancy, and it felt both weird and wrong. It woke you up for a second and made you falter a bit in your next words, breaking Steve’s gaze. “Not a… friend.” 
One of his hands found the side of your thigh, rubbing the skin softly and trying to pull you back into this moment with him. You could feel him reading you so easily and knowing where your mind was going, and he didn’t want you to go there, and neither did you. 
You didn’t want this– you and him, him and you– to break just yet.
“Um, anyway, you didn’t tell me that it would be so formal,” You said, gesturing with your head to the suit he was wearing. 
Your eyes met his again and you could see the relief wash over his face because you didn’t bring up the unspoken topic. Things shifted right back to normal. Well, the normal that you two created for yourselves. 
“I feel kinda ridiculous, and I hate this bow tie,” He responded, hand continuing to rub your thigh. “I should’ve probably changed before I came here but I just really wanted to see you.”
You let his words further push away any thoughts of Nancy that lingered in your mind, thoughts that finally told you that what you were doing with him was wrong.
“Stop. You look good,” You told him, your fingers playing with the bow tie for a brief moment. “Like, really good.” 
“Okay, now I’m really glad that I didn’t change, then.” He smiled before leaning in to kiss you. 
You only deepened the kiss in response and focused on nothing but the feeling of his mouth on yours and his hands beginning to snake underneath your shirt. 
He pulled back, maneuvering things so you were sitting at the foot of the bed and he was standing. The black suit jacket he had on was the first thing to fall on the floor. You slipped your t-shirt over your head and tossed it to the side before helping him unbutton the long sleeve white shirt he had on. 
His hands found your bare waist and squeezed softly. “I’m so fucking happy I’m here right now.”
“Me too,” You responded and then sighed in contentment, eyes slipping shut for a brief moment, when you felt his thumb graze over your already hard nipple. 
Sometimes, usually in moments like these, it felt as if it was your sole purpose to be with him; canceling your plans just in case he’d call or show up, and meeting solely at his place, or yours, or the library.
How deeply intertwined you felt with him let you know exactly how much it would hurt when this all came to its eventual end. But then you were hit with the thought that maybe you would deserve it because you put yourself in this situation. 
Steve’s hand came up to gently stroke your cheek and pull you out of your thoughts. “What are you thinking about?”
Your gaze met his as you shook your head. “Nothing important.”
But, maybe it was the most important thing. 
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
“i remember thinkin' i had you.”
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
August 23, 1984
You expected to see him that night. 
So maybe him unexpectedly showing up to the library– which was now busy with a bunch of kids scrambling to do their summer reading assignments– was what should have told you that everything was about to go to shit. 
“Hey,” You said to him and placed the book in your hand in its rightful place on the shelf and then did the same thing with the other one you were holding. “I didn’t think I’d see you until tonight.” 
Steve was quiet for a few moments too long, which made you look at him, and your eyebrows furrowed in confusion when you saw the look on his face. It was hard to exactly decipher his expression because it looked as if he was experiencing a thousand different emotions at once. 
“What’s wrong?” You asked, voice quiet. 
“I got a call from Nancy,” He told you, and you nearly flinched at hearing him saying her name to you for the first time ever. “She said she’s coming back tonight.” 
“Oh…” Was the first thing that fell from your lips. It was the word that perfectly encompassed your initial shock at that moment. “That’s, um– That’s really, uh…” You almost said “great,” because if the circumstances were different and if things were actually normal between you two, it probably would’ve been great that his girlfriend was coming back after being gone for almost two months. But, things were far from normal and the circumstances weren’t different at all, so you were at a loss for words.  
Finally, after what felt like hours of silence, but what was really probably only seconds, you said something. “I really don’t know what to say to that, honestly.” 
“I’m sorry,” He said softly and pulled his eyes away from you. He looked down and ran a nervous hand through his hair. “I guess we, uh, both know what that means.” 
“Say it, Steve.” You muttered. You had to hear him say the words in order for it all to be real for you. You couldn’t take all of the unspoken, reading-between-the-lines bullshit. 
He was quiet for an unbearable amount of time before he finally spoke. “We can’t see each other anymore.” 
From the second he kissed you in his pool nearly a month ago, you knew that those words would ultimately come. Each happy day that passed with you tangled up in his bedsheets or cuddled up on his couch laughing about nothing was leading to this moment. 
It had all been so inevitable, but it still hurt harder than you had expected it to. You quickly decided to pretend as if it didn’t, though. 
You nodded at him. “Okay. Got it.” 
“I’m sorry. This shouldn’t– I didn’t–”
“Don’t,” You quickly shook your head, not at all wanting to hear whatever pitying thing he would say to you at that moment. “Please don’t.” 
You were suddenly glad that you were at work right then because you could distract yourself from thoughts of him and everything that had just ended with the current busyness of the library. You looked away from Steve and noticed a little girl struggling to grab a book that was high on a shelf.
“It’s really chaotic here right now, and I have to actually do work for the first time probably all summer, so yeah…” You forced a small smile and then walked away from him, ignoring the words he said to you that you barely heard and couldn’t make out. 
Over the next two final hours of your shift, you’d silently accepted that that brief conversation would be the last time you talked to Steve Harrington. Although there were a thousand more things that probably could’ve been said, it was okay. That ending was okay. Or at least in the long run, it would be. 
So it slightly startled you when you saw him in the parking lot, leaning against the side of his car. When he noticed you, he waved. 
“Have you been here this whole time?” You asked, walking toward him, but leaving a wide space of distance between you two. 
“Maybe, yeah.”
“Why?” 
“I don’t know…”
For the first time probably ever, he confused you. 
“I just— I wish things could be different,” He ultimately said, and hearing those words simultaneously made you feel happy while also making you feel so fucking upset. 
“Things can be different,” You told him as you stepped toward him, the tiniest glimmer of hope inadvertently beginning to swirl in your stomach. “We could be together.”
Your hands found his, slowly intertwining them. His gaze met yours and you let the silent conversation play out. Your eyes pleading with him to not let go of what you two had, and him looking at you so softly while also battling whatever else was going on in his mind. After a few moments, he gave your hands a quick squeeze before he let go of them. 
“I love Nancy.”
Not you. Those were the words he didn’t say, but you could read between those lines a little too easily. 
“I love you” was the one thing you hadn’t said to one another, but you thought that you could feel how much he loved you through each soft touch, every longing look, every plea for you to stay in his bed for just a minute longer; one minute that always turned into at least five. 
Apparently, you were wrong, though. 
And now you knew for certain that you were wrong about every single thing that happened that summer. 
Because you knew that you felt that way toward him. You loved him. 
But he didn’t love you. He didn’t want to be with you. 
He loved her. 
His girlfriend— the only girl he was supposed to love. 
You let the feeling of regret and guilt toward everything that happened this summer crash over you like a tsunami. 
“I should’ve never done this,” You said, whispering that more to yourself, than to him. 
“What?” He asked, unsure of what you’d just said.
“You love her.” You said as you moved away from him. “Go be with her.”
“I’m really sorry,” You heard him say as you walked toward your car. 
You didn’t say anything in response to that. Mainly because there was nothing to say, but also because you refused to talk to him any longer. And quite frankly, you never wanted to talk to him again. 
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
“so much for summer love and saying ‘us.’ ‘cause you weren't mine to lose.”
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
let me know ur thoughts<333
(read “betty” here!)
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radiant-reid · 2 years
Note
Request: the team finds out that Spencer used to do high fashion modeling when he was younger (like MGG) and they’re just sooo shocked. Extra points if the modeling is also how he met his hot wife
"This is you," Penelope states loudly, dumping a stack of magazines onto Spencer's desk. They're very old issues of Vogue, GQ, Vanity Fair, and Esquire as well as a couple of other catalogs from Hermes, Balenciaga, Ralph Lauren, Yves Saint Laurent, Comme des Garçons, and Dolce & Gabbana. "You're in these." She repeats.
Spencer has already memorized each page of every addition in every language. "Yeah?" He wonders what she's gifting these to him for.
"When, where, why, what, how?" She lists her questions.
"They all have dates on them, Garcia." He deadpans.
"Hey, you never told us about this," Emily says, flipping through the magazine and noticing the young version of Spencer photographed in expensive, designer clothes.
Spencer chooses an edition of Ralph Lauren, turning to a specific page number and pointing out the girl standing next to him in a countryside shoot. "Y/n." He says, labeling his wife.
"No way!" Penelope exclaims, picking it up to examine it closer.
"How did you never find this?" JJ asks her, taking the book after her.
"Baby girl, your skills are slipping." Morgan teases, trying to find both of them in the other catalogs.
Spencer shakes his head. "It's not my name. Well, not technically. It's Spencer L/n. I got into it in college, scouted, I guess. And it's how I met Y/n, who let me use her last name for my shoots. Now, she has mine." He explains, getting surprised looks from his colleagues.
"Oh, that's why you two found it hilarious when Morgan told her she could model," Emily recalls Morgan's flirting when they first met her.
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rafesangel · 1 year
Text
ITS JUST US, ANGEL
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Im bored, tired and bored again so thought I’d write a fic!!
summary : JJ is scaring you and Rafe helps and comforts you.
warnings : harassing, kook!reader , crying, fluff.
a/n : this is from readers pov and Sarah is a kook in this fic!!
“Hey Y/N! Love those shorts cupcake!” you heard one of the pogue boys shout at you, it was probably JJ because he always tried to hit on you, you didn’t really care back then, but you do now. Since you now have a boyfriend, Rafe Cameron.
“Leave her alone JJ!” You heard Sarah yelling at JJ from behind you. “Thank you, Sarah..” you mouthed at her as you saw JJ and John B eyeing you from afar. You were still wondering where Rafe and his friend were, but you didn’t have the need to call them, but you wish you did later that night.
You sat on the sound with your head resting on Sarah shoulder while drinking the cocktail from your glass, as suddenly someone sat down next to you on your right and put his arm around your waist. It was JJ, again.
“where’s your boyfriend cupcake, having fun without you?” he asked me as he almost forced me to look him in the eyes. “Probably yes, i don’t really care to be honest, i came here with Sarah anyway…” the look on his face told that he wanted something from me.
“Okay look, what do you want JJ, you’ve been seeking for my attention all night” you asked him, as Sarah sat beside you to help if something would happen. “Well if Rafe is having fun without you, why don’t we have some fun without him, just the two of us!” He smirked at you but you just tried to push him of you, but he didn’t go away
“JJ, leave her alone can’t you see she feels uncomfortable?” Sarah asked almost mad, no furious. “Thats not true, mind your own business you kook” JJ told Sarah as she rolled with her eyes. “She’s right JJ , let me go..” your voice lowered as you almost begged him to let you go, you looked to your side, but Sarah wasn’t there anymore. Great.
“Come on cupcake, i see how you look at me..” he rubbed your back as you didn’t dare to look at him. “JJ stop your scaring me..” you said while tears were falling on your thighs “don’t cry now cupcake, its alright-“ JJ went quiet as he got cut off by someone.
you looked behind you and saw Rafe with Sarah, Topper and Kelce wandering behind him. “Get your hands off my girlfriend Maybank!” Rafe yelled at him as he pulled JJ up by his shoulders.
“I-i wasn’t-“ JJ tried coming up with some shitty excuse, but Rafe cut him off again. “No shut it, if i ser your hands on my girlfriend again, wait no, if i see you talking to her again, Me, Topper and Kelce are gonna have a fun talk with you, got it?”
It was Silent, But JJ refused to talk, all he did was nod. “Anything you have to say to her?” Topper asked JJ and Rafe turned him to me. “I-im sorry Y/N..” you shook your head while rubbing your hands up and down over your arm, not knowing what to say.
“Goodjob Mate, now go” Rafe said and pushed JJ away. Rafe walked up to you and pulled you against him, as your tears made a wet stain on his Ralph Lauren polo. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here for you Angel, you must thank Sarah, she came up to me telling me that JJ was harassing you” you looked up at him and then at Sarah, giving her a ‘Thank You’ look.
“This is the last time this’ll happen okay? Its just us, angel.”
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henneseyhoe · 1 year
Text
USE ME.
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Ralph angel X BLACK!PLUSSIZE!reader
WARNINGS: Sir kink, Unprotected sex(wrap it df up!), slight choking, SUB!reader, overstimulation, bondage, dirty talk, no plot, short smut smut smutty smut lol.
-
I laid there still as pleasure spread throughout my body, my muscles aching worse than it would have if I went on a twenty minute run. I was sweaty, thirsty, but most importantly, wetter than water itself. "m-more" I stuttered out, the dark-skinned, naked adonis that stood before me caressing my body. He took his time as his hands made its way down to my breast, squeezing them before continuing his way down to my stomach "more? you'll listen this time?" He asked, his deep voice sending shivers down my spine.
"Yes, sir!" I nodded with anticipation and groaned, feeling the pressure of his thumb back on my swollen, hard clit. I arched my back and pulled at the cuffs attached to both my wrists and the headboard, the cold metal it was made from digging at my skin. The subtle pain felt nice, so nice that I moaned louder and continued to pull at the chains, my thighs clenching together tightly as my clit throbbed against his fingers. Forcing my legs back open, only for them to be spread wider than they were before, he glared at me "keep it open for me, Ma. I wanna see that pretty pussy cum when I let it"
my eyes rolled back at his nasty words. I could cum right then and there, but I knew that'd end with this whole session starting over from square one until I learned how to listen. "I wanna cum, sir" I announced, a whine lingering in my tone of voice, which made a sly smirk appear on the man's face, his golden grillz shining bright. "What did I just say? This pussy gon cum when I tell it to. And I haven't said shit yet"
I bit back my complaints to assure he'd keep playing nice with me, my bottom lip now being stuck between my teeth so no noise that could be mistaken as impatience was let out, even though that's exactly what I was. Releasing my eyes from the clench my lids held, I opened them a little, peeking up at his figure. To my surprise, he looked back at me with lust filled eyes, last time striking me with a hand to my ass when I made eye contact with him.
"You've been waiting so long to cum, I wonder what you'd do if I just left you here like this" he leaned down close to my face, my eyes traveling down to his lips, that same smirk still written all on his mug. I shook my head, getting ready to do whatever it took to finally release the pressure I had pent up inside of me for the past hour.
"Please, sir. I need it" I begged, attempting not to sound so needy, which was quite impossible in this situation. He laid a kiss on my red stained lips, residue of my own release and lipstick being stuck to the plump flesh.
I moaned into the kiss, my head almost moving closer for more before I quickly caught myself and pulled away, praying he let that slide. Gripping my thigh with one of his hands, he kissed my lips again, this time taking control. Softly sucking on my bottom lip, he pulls away and sticks his tongue out, begging to flick the tip of it over the lip he had just let go while his hands skillfully move to the leg opening of my panties, his fingers sliding in and gripping the lace before pulling, the material splitting right down the middle to leave just an opening for him that he would use well.
Without another word from him, I suddenly felt an intense pressure on my abdomen as he slowly slid inside of me, taking his time to make sure I took all of him. He groaned lowly while watching, my arousal leaving a clear, sticky coat around him, which he saw when his hips retreated, his dick now just as shiny as the golds in his mouth. "I know she been ready, and you been so patient, baby" he spoke against my lips with his hands pushing my legs up to my chest, my fists clenching. I felt nothing but inches gliding inside of me, the tip of his dick hitting the hilt of my pussy with every stroke he made.
My body felt light as a feather, as if I was floating through darkness while he thrusted inside of me at a slow, but sensual pace. One of his hands let go of my leg and threw it over his shoulder instead, that same hand feeling down my curvy body, as he gave me loving kisses across my neck and face despite the degrading words he spoke in my ear just a few minutes ago.
Creeping his hand down to my clit and rubbing it in a circular motion as I moaned out repeatedly, tears welled up and prickled my eyes, my whole being fighting the urge to let go, that task alone getting harder and harder. I could only hope that I would be strong enough to actually clock into work tomorrow after this.
"Oh— oh shit!" I shouted, my chest rising and falling quickly as he sped his thrusts up to his liking, giving me strokes that got harder by the seconds. I couldn't take much more with the way every thrust he made took away my breath, each one making me suck in air, but struggle to let it go until I shouted again.
"You wanna cum? I think my girl deserves to cum" He whispers in my ear. His words bounced around my head for what seems like hours, the man removing his other hand from my thigh and wrapping it around my throat, now drilling into me while whispering more nasty affirmations that were disguised in a sweet tone.
"please, Sir!" I begged, moaning out so loud that I was sure the neighbors heard. "Go head, baby. Get that nut. I wanna feel you cum" he sucked in air through his teeth, slowly blowing it back out against the skin of my neck. My legs began to shake vigorously and I felt my core tighten as I creamed around him with a loud, quivering moan.
"Gahdamn, baby. Fuuuck!" he cursed, slamming into me once more before quickly pulling out with a groan, his hand stroking himself as he came, the white ribbons landing on top of my aching clit.
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were--ralph · 9 months
Note
Ralph you need to know that your hot cat post scared me SO much. The furry porn guy calls cats hot? You get scared, it's just how it is.
I'm guessing you guys are new so here's commonly known information for people who have followed me for at least a week
I own four wonderful cats and love them with my whole soul
This is not a zoophile positive blog, in fact I'm very vocal about how they should just die
As a furry I hate zoophs more than the average person
I do not like catboys or catboy culture
The only attractive cat furries are big cats. There are no hot housecat sonas
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mypoisonedvine · 2 years
Text
who's a good boy? {ralph x reader}
{summary} you give ralph a very special present after his birthday party.
{word count} 7.4k
{warnings} SMUT (18+ ONLY), sub!ralph and soft dom!reader, ruined orgasm, handjob, pillow humping, oral sex f receiving, unprotected sex, titty sucking, light(?) pet play, collaring, 'puppy' pet name and 'ma'am' title, very slight/implied? foot fetish, dom/sub dynamics, fluff, angst but it all works out, mention of an arranged marriage, mention of cousin marriage (sorry guys lol), reader smokes a cigarette, reader has eldest daughter syndrome, ralph is the goodest boy, taking the "golden retriever boyfriend" trope to a whole new level
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You'd had quite a time watching Ralph at his party— he was so full of energy, bouncing off the walls in between chatting with his guests and dancing to the music. You could barely keep up with him, even when he dragged you to the dancefloor to join him; "Don't you wanna dance with the birthday boy?" he winked at you, and you could hardly say no to that.
Now that you knew, it was obvious— of course Ralph had a puppy side, just look at the man scampering all around his own party like he couldn't decide what to do next! But even if it was clear to you now, you hadn't always realized it. You'd known him for years, but only had the privilege of seeing that side of him properly almost a year ago.
See, Ralph was an old friend, and when you were visiting London you typically stayed with him and his sister in their estate.  Living with someone, even as a guest, means you run the risk of catching them in a compromising situation.  
Still, you never imagined finding Ralph in your bedroom one afternoon, humping your pillow.
It was quite a sight, his hands holding on tight to the white downy cloud, his face flushed pink and his mouth parted with a gasp as he rocked his hips.  He had his trousers pulled down enough for his bare arse to be exposed to you, which made you giggle, which made him shriek and tumble off the bed in surprise.
You narrowed your eyes as you waited for him to come back out, but there was a long silence.  "Ralph?  Are you back there?" you asked gently as you stepped further into the room, shutting the door behind you.
"...No," he answered back pitifully, and you smiled as you tilted your head.
"It's okay," you promised, "I was just going to ask what you were doing in my room.  Can you stop hiding now?"
His head started to hesitantly appear from the other side of the mattress, his eyes big and wet and blinking at you quickly.  "How… how long were you standing there?" he wondered quietly.
"Long enough," you promised, and he whined.  "Will you tell me what you were doing?"
He pouted slightly as he rested his chin on your duvet.  "I was…" he sighed, shutting his eyes tight.  "I'm so sorry!"
"It's okay!" you promised.  "Can you just say it?"
"I was… rubbing myself… o-on your pillow."
The poor boy had gone beet red, poor thing.  Not that you could blame him, it was quite the situation to be caught in.  "Thank you for telling me," you offered.  "What were you doing such a silly thing for?"
"I was— well, I felt a little… strange all day," he explained.  "It's just that… being around you, sometimes I… oh, I can't help it!"
You chuckled as he crinkled up his nose with a frown.
"I just— you know that I adore you!" he continued.  "I've said as much a thousand times.  And I came here to tell you again!  But I was feeling so… a-and your pillow, it smelled just like you, it smelled like your hair, and I…"
You stepped closer to the bed, and he looked up at you before darting his eyes away again.  "What a naughty boy," you chided, hearing him whimper through his teeth.  "Is that what you do when you're feeling worked up, Ralph?  You wander about the house and hump whatever you can find, like a bad puppy?"
And that was when you knew.  Because you'd only meant it as a joke— as an apt comparison!— but his mouth fell open and he started really panting.
You smiled wide.  "Oh, you are…" you sighed.  "Come on, why don't you come out here and have a talk with me?"
"L-let me get my trousers back on—"
"That won't be necessary," you insisted firmly, and there was a pause before he hesitantly stood up and stepped closer to you.  "You're not going to bring your new friend?"
You pointed to the pillow he'd left on the floor, and he bit his lip as he stooped down and picked it up, holding it to cover himself as he approached you.  "I-I hope I haven't offended you…" he whispered.
"Not at all," you nodded.  "Unless you've stained my pillow.  Have you?"
He swallowed and looked to the side. "Erm…"
"Show me," you demanded.
He shakily turned the pillow around, and you smiled at the sight of a small wet patch by the middle.  Your stomach jumped imagining his cock leaking that onto the silk, and you dragged your finger over it.
"All because it smelled like me, huh?" you prompted, and he nodded.  
"You smell divine," he explained, "and it only made me think of how pretty you are when you sleep—"
"How would you know that?"
He froze up.  "I— well, it's— only once—"
You laughed, and he shut his mouth quickly.  "Come on, Ralphie, show me your problem."
"What?"
"Take the pillow away, let me see."
He made a face like he was going to protest, but then he was tucking the pillow under his arm and leaving his open trousers exposed— his cock red from the lack of attention, leaking all over his ginger patch of hair, curling up to his stomach and the trail following beneath his belly button.  Poor thing.
"How long have you been like this?" you asked.
"F-feels like ever since you arrived," he mumbled.  "Every time you visit, it gets like this.  I mean— of course that's not the only time.  But when I think of you… it doesn't want to go away."
"Would you like me to help?" you offered.
He looked stunned, you even saw him stop breathing, but he nodded eagerly.  "I-if you'd like to…" 
You reached forward and wrapped your hand around him at the base, and instantly he tried to rock his hips against your hand.  "No, you've gotta stay still," you ordered.
"Y-yes— I'm sorry," he sighed.  You began with slow, long strokes, watching his foreskin slide up a bit over his head and then move back down.  "Oh, your hands are so soft," he whimpered, "I knew they would be.  I knew it."
"You imagined this?" you presumed, and he nodded quickly.
"Every time I touched myself— I pretended it was you touching me.  But your hands feel so much nicer…"
You smiled a bit and stroked him faster, twisting your hand at the tip, letting his sticky fluid ease your movements.  He started to buck up into your hand a bit, but you didn't correct him this time.  "Such a needy little thing," you whispered to him, "imagining me when you're all by yourself.  It's sweet, really.  I thought of you, too."
"Really?" he gasped, and you nodded.  
"I thought you might be well-behaved.  I didn't know you were just a bad little puppy going around rubbing your cock on pillows."
He whined.  "Darling— I can't… take much more."
You grinned.  "You're going to finish already?"
"Yes," he grunted.
"Yes ma'am."
"Yes… yes, ma'am," he whined.  "Oh, please don't— don't stop!"
You did.  He didn't.
His hips rocked up into the air, into nothing, as he started to come.  It shot out of his cock and landed all over the floor— loads of it, so much it even rolled down his shaft in big white beads, soaking his dishevelled trousers.  You watched with a grin as he made such a mess of himself, eyes shut tightly and mouth open to let out his pathetically loud moans, and waited for him to come down from it.
He did, eventually, catching his breath as he looked down at how much come he'd gotten on the rug.
"Oh," he pouted, "Victoria's going to kill me, she loves this rug."
"Is this a common problem for you?  Leaving messes on the rug?" you smirked.  "Golly, you are just a bad puppy after all."
But the only way to train a bad puppy to be good is with practice.  You established some new rules that day.
First, Ralph was not permitted to touch himself anymore.  A man of his merit shouldn't be debasing himself that way regardless, but a good puppy should tell his owner when he needs to be taken care of.  Immediately, Ralph resented this rule because you only visited for a few months out of the year.  Your compromise was that he could hump as many pillows as he liked while you were gone, but never use his hand on himself— far too uncivilised, really.
Second, Ralph had to begin properly minding his manners.  Please and thank you were vital; yes ma'am and no ma'am were truly paramount.
Third, and maybe the most important, was that if he didn't like something and needed it to stop, he'd have to say 'pamplemousse'.  The actual word was his idea, because only he could come up with something that ridiculous, but the purpose of it was your idea.  You wanted him to understand that part of his training might include things that were hard for him, but that you needed to do— as such, 'no ma'am' might not always be enough to make you stop.
He'd used that word only a few times in nearly a year of these special encounters.  Once because he'd already come twice and being touched just hurt too much.  Once because you said too much about him being naughty and he got scared that you'd leave and find another puppy to play with instead.  And once just because he really needed to go to the bathroom.  Really, he was quite tough and could handle a lot, even a good spanking if he'd earned it.  Even an impulsive, desperate boy like Ralph could learn to be good, after all.
You'd visited a little more frequently ever since, usually for a month or two at a time and never more than six months between visits.  Ralph would write you letters constantly, begging you to visit again soon, asking if you'd thought of him as much as he'd thought of you, telling you about dreams he'd had or books he'd read or just about anything that had happened while you were away.
Of course, you had to visit for his 30th birthday.  He didn't quite act his age… well, he didn't at all, but he was so excited to enter a new decade of his life regardless.  I simply couldn't celebrate at all without you there, he told you in his letter, if you don't come I won't have the party at all, and Victoria will never forgive me.
Obviously, you never had any intention of missing such a special occasion.  You arrived only a week before the party, having to lock away your trunk full of birthday presents for the twins in a closet— otherwise Ralph would likely find it and open them all early.
(He got especially impatient when you'd been away for so long.  It would take a bit of training to get him back to his best behavior.)
And the night of the party, after all this planning, Ralph was like you'd never seen him before.  Jittery with nerves but beside himself with excitement— he had been basically pacing around the entire house all day, mumbling about how he should've had the party start at ten in the morning instead of seven in the evening, even though no party you'd ever heard of started so early.
He was inconsolably anxious and yet happy, and kept going on about how long he'd been waiting to see you again and how happy he was that you were here.
Of course, he made that obvious when he couldn't even make it through the entire carriage ride back from the train station without begging literally on his knees for some attention.  You only ignored him for a second before he started humping your leg, rambling about how pretty your stockings were, insisting that he'd been so good without you and just needed his reward.
He got his reward: you let him finish in his trousers and kiss your feet as an apology, until your good nature took over— then, you held his face and wiped away his tears and gave him a proper kiss on the mouth.  "Missed you, puppy," you whispered to him, and he threw his arms around you.  You held each other the rest of the ride to his estate.
As you watched him run all around his party, you were sure he would wear himself out any minute now.  Still, he seemed to have infinite energy all the way through the night, even as the guests were leaving— even once Victoria had passed out in the tea room and you had told him you were retiring for the evening any moment now.  He should, too, with how disheveled he looked— his bowtie hanging loosely around his neck, his shirt unbuttoned and cumberbund askew.
Still, you saw the little pout on his lips when you told him that you’d be going to sleep yourself soon; you chuckled quietly.  "What's the matter?" you asked.
"I… nothing," he assured, "it's nothing at all.  I had the most wonderful time— and I'm glad you could come.  You know I would've never stopped grieving if you missed such a special birthday."
"I could never miss it, Ralph," you promised, "not for the world."
You gave him a small kiss on the cheek.  "Are you really going to bed so early?" he asked.
"It's nearly three," you reminded him.
"Yes, but—" he choked.
"Let me at least get into my nightclothes, and if you're still awake, I'll call for you."
He swallowed nervously.  "Ma'am, I'll stay up for a week waiting for you."
You smiled.  "I'm sure.  Just entertain yourself for a bit, please, Ralph."
You changed from your party attire into something you could sleep in— and something you knew would make your poor puppy get all dry in the mouth right away.  Ralph liked how you looked in just about anything, but he had a couple favorites that you'd packed for the trip.
Next, you found the last present, the one you'd hidden best, and set it before you.
You listened to the silence for a second, wondering if he was still outside your room.  "Ralphiiiiee," you sang to him, and you laughed as you heard him come bounding down the hallway.
"Yes, my love?" he asked eagerly as he popped his head in the door.   His expression changed when he saw you laying on the bed, draped in your lace nightgown, the golden-wrapped box waiting in front of you and tied with a red bow.  "Is that…?"
You nodded when his massive brown eyes fell on the gift.  "Yes, Ralphie, that's for you.  I had to get you just one more present."
As if the first eight weren't enough.  "Darling," he cooed, stepping into the bedroom and sitting on the foot of the bed, "you'll spoil me."
"We both know you're already spoiled rotten, Ralphie," you grinned.
"Can I open it, please?" he asked sweetly; minding his manners so well… he hadn't always been like that, he used to struggle more with his impulsivity and even brattiness.  You were so proud to see how far he'd come, and that was what this gift was all about.  He beamed as you nodded, ripping at the paper until he could pop the lid off the paper box.
You saw his eyes water as he looked at the gift inside, a baby blue silk collar, decorated with tiny roses and a bow at the front— you figured that would look quite handsome since he wore bowties so often anyways.  Best of all, it had a dangling silver tag bearing his engraved name and a tiny little bell, too, so you'd always know where he was.
Ralph stared at it for a moment before looking at you again.  "It's really mine?" he realized.
"Of course," you smiled.  "I had it made just for you.  I want you to really be my puppy."
He was blushing and smiling shyly, batting those long eyelashes at you.  "Oh… I wanna be your puppy, too.  Love being your puppy."
"I know," you cooed.  "Wanna try it on?"
He nodded quickly, holding the box towards you.  You picked the collar up by each end, and he instantly leaned in and bared his neck for you.
It was a little tricky to buckle the back of it without looking, but his face was just too precious to look anywhere else.  "There," you announced once it was fastened, dropping your hands and leaning back to take in the full sight.  "Wow, what a handsome boy," you praised, grinning when he shyly reaching up to hold his own face.  "Wanna see how you look in your new collar, puppy?"
He all but dragged you to the vanity mirror, and you both admired his reflection quietly.  One of his hands came up to gently brush over the silk, toying with the silver engraved heart.  "Are you sure I've earned it?" he suddenly asked.
Funny question, since he'd be begging for one during your last visit— he insisted constantly that he'd been good enough, that he deserved it.  Now he seemed a little overwhelmed.  "Of course," you promised, "you're the best little puppy in the world.  Do you like it, Ralph?"
"Oh, ma'am— it's perfect," he beamed, hopping up and down just a bit.  "It's wizard!"
You laughed slightly as he spun around and pulled you into a tight hug.
"Thank you so much!" he said, a little too loud for how close he was to your ear, but you didn't mind because it just meant he was excited.  He pulled away and turned to see himself in the mirror again, fiddling with it around his neck.
"Is it too tight?" you worried.
"No!  No, I… I like feeling it," he explained, blushing a little harder.
You raised an eyebrow.  "How much do you like it?" you asked, but you didn't need him to answer with words; he watched in the mirror as your hand moved down to the front of his trousers, rubbing his erection as it grew firmer against your touch.  
"Oh, m-ma'am," he choked, "thank you…"
"No, thank you… you've been so good for me for quite a while now," you recalled.  "I wasn't sure if you could be trained, a spoiled brat like you."
He groaned through his teeth briefly.
"But you took to it so well, learned all your lessons, learned sit and stay," you remembered proudly.
"Stay is the hardest," he blurted out, and you grinned.
"Which one is the easiest?" you pressed.
"Come," he decided instantly, making you laugh softly.
"I bet you're right…"
You stopped rubbing the bulge in his pants then, making him whine slightly, but then you reached up to pet his head instead— playing with his hair that had started to fall out of its meticulous style.
"Why don't you show me how good you are?" you prompted him.  "You didn't forget anything I taught you, right?"
"No ma'am," he panted as he turned to face you and dropped to his knees— the bell jingled quietly when he did it, and you smiled.  He grasped at your thighs eagerly through the nightgown.  "I remember everything."
"Let's see it, then," you nodded.
He lifted the see-through fabric and ducked his head under it, kissing your thighs softly.  "Missed you so much," he breathed against your skin.
You felt his tongue slide up the seam of your cunt, and you fought against a shudder; he didn't tease you much, usually too eager to do anything but dive in, but he still learned to ease into it carefully when he could.
He flattened his tongue and gave you another lick, pushing deeper between your lips, and you reached down to the opening of your robe to grab his hair.
It encouraged him even more, and you moaned louder as he did it again and again.  "That's my good boy," you sighed.  "Such a good boy for me, fuck, knows exactly how to use that cute puppy tongue, huh?"
You heard (and felt) him hum softly against you, sucking on your clit while your hole throbbed for him.  Just in time, he broke the seal to stick his tongue inside you and feel it.  "D'you like it?" he asked excitedly.  "It feels like you do— am I doing good?"
"So good," you agreed with a sigh.  "You love pleasing your owner, don't you?"
"Mhm," he hummed as his eyes fell shut, lashes resting on his flushed cheeks.  He put his mouth on you again and suckled harder at your bundle of nerves; your whole body jolted when he accidentally grazed his teeth too hard over the most sensitive spot and you quickly swatted him on the head.
"Bad puppy, no biting," you scolded.
"M'sorry, m'so sorry," he slurred as he kissed all over your thighs apologetically.  "Didn't mean to, ma'am, I swear—"
"It's okay, baby, just keep going," you soothed, sighing with relief as he lapped at you again.  "See?  You're a good boy— fuck, just like that…"
He went on that way for a while, until you felt the pressure building in your gut and a heat spreading inside your channel.
You didn't want him to know how easily he could make you come now, in case it all went to his head; "Lean back, Ralphie, lemme see your new collar again," you instructed with a sigh, giving yourself a break from his perfect tongue on your bud.
He popped his head out from under the robe with a wide smile, lips a little swollen and coated in your slick.  You hooked your finger under the band and tugged at it a bit, just to feel him jolt.
"Look so pretty," you noticed with a sigh.
"Thank you, ma'am," he cooed at the praise.  "You look pretty too— I like looking at you from down here."
"I bet you do," you smirked.  "I bet your cock's real needy now, isn't it?"
He stammered but eventually nodded.
"Does it hurt?"
"Yes, ma'am…"
"You can rub it on my foot while you keep going, okay?" you offered.
"Th-thank you," he gasped, and you loved the way he rocked his hips to grind against your bare foot on the floor— your lip caught between your teeth as you imagined him moving that way to thrust inside you, filling you and stretching you—
"Ah, fuck," you gasped, his tongue sliding into you again.  You could feel how hard he was on the curve of your ankle, and you smiled to yourself.  "Keep tasting inside me, Ralphie, doing so good…"
He whined against you, suckling harder at your skin, nose brushing up against your mound while his eyes shut tightly.
"Just a little more," you promised, holding his head by his hair and rocking your hips against him, "mm, just a little longer, puppy…"
“Please come,” you heard him whisper against you, not stopping long enough to properly say it.  “Please, please?”
His sweet begging did help you along, but even better was the way he stuck his tongue out and just let you ride it, rubbing your clit against his wide open mouth.  He was looking up at you with those beautiful eyes, silently pleading for a taste of your pleasure, and you let go: with a groan, you tossed your head back and felt your whole body seize up for a moment— including the hand in his hair, tugging on his delicate curls.
He whined but stayed still.  “G-good boy,” you breathed, slowing down your movements as the pleasure began to subside.
When you let go of his hair, he pulled back and blinked up at you.  "Was that good, ma'am?" he asked excitedly, swallowing and panting; you nodded and he smiled.
"Really good,” you nodded.  “So good, I think you might’ve earned a treat.”
He perked up instantly.
“You want a treat, puppy?" you offered, and he nodded eagerly. 
He watched carefully as you untied your robe and let it fall to the floor, entirely nude as you laid back on the bed.
Usually, you would ride him and watch his face get all twisted up and desperate— sometimes you would bend over and let him hump you as fast and needy as he wanted, if he'd been very good.  But this was rare, laying on your back and spreading your legs for him, letting him see how well he'd eaten you out.
He stripped with preternatural speed, leaving only his collar on, and jumped up onto the bed so fast that the whole mattress bounced a couple times.  You laughed while he climbed up over you, finding his place between your legs.
"I can… I can fuck you, ma'am?" he realized with a smile.
You were hardly done nodding when he gripped his cock tight and guided it to your opening.  He pushed in right away, making you arch your back as he buried himself as deep as he could go.
"You feel so good," he breathed, leaning down over you, "I— I love you."
"I know," you smiled, "I love you, too, puppy."
"No," he whined, "s-say my name when you tell me you love me.  Please?"
"Ralph," you replied, "I love you."
"Oh," he gasped, beginning to move inside you.  He wasn’t too fast at first— which was a bit surprising, usually he got really needy and couldn’t slow down.  It seemed almost like he couldn’t take much more than this yet, like he really needed to go this slowly to ease himself into the feeling.  “Oh— I almost forgot how warm you are… s-so warm inside and… and tight…”
“Does it feel good?” you asked, redundantly.
“Yes, ma’am,” he choked, even sniffling slightly.  Sometimes he got a lot of big feelings when you let him fuck you… it wasn’t that rare at all for him to cry.  You thought it was precious.  “Y-yes, it’s so… s’good, ma’am, feels so nice…”
“Can you fuck me a little harder, puppy?” you encouraged, and he nodded, picking up his pace and hitting his hips on yours just a bit more roughly.  “Mm, that’s nice.  Do you like that, too?”
“Yeah,” he whimpered.  “Can I… can I touch your boobs?”
You snorted for a second.  “They’re breasts, Ralph.”
“R-right, can I touch them?”
You nodded, and he quickly propped himself up on one hand to grope your chest with the other.  You felt his cock flex inside you right away.  “I bet you missed those, too.”
“So much,” he sighed.  
“I missed the way you suck on them, puppy, d’you maybe wanna—?”
His mouth was already around your nipples, suckling eagerly as his eyes fell shut.  He moaned against the skin, and you felt your own walls flex as he flicked his tongue over the firm skin.  “Oh!” he smiled as he pulled back, looking up at you proudly.  “I know you liked that— your pussy gave me a hug.”
“Yeah, I did,” you nodded, “keep going.”
His lips kept a seal around the sensitive skin, his tongue lapping and swirling around emphatically.  He moved back and forth between each one as his hands kept massaging and squeezing you, cheeks hollowing while he sucked harder.
"Fuck," you groaned lowly— it felt great, but the best part was just the way he looked doing it: eyes fallen shut, so focused on his task, lips pink and pursed, jaw accentuated by his open mouth…
He stopped after a few minutes, maybe having noticed that your skin was pricking with goosebumps.  "Am I being good?" he panted.  "A-am I your… your good p-puppy?"
"Yes, baby," you sighed, clutching his arm tight.  "My good little puppy— you feel so good, keep fucking me just like that."
He whined through his teeth and did as he was told.  The metal tag on his collar was dangling right over your face as he thrusted into you, and you smiled as you reached up and toyed with it briefly with one finger.  He smiled a little when he noticed what you were doing.  "I love wearing your collar," he admitted breathlessly.  "I love being yours."
Your heart clenched, as did your walls.  "All mine, puppy?" you pressed.  "My good boy…"
He whined slightly as he dropped his face down into the crook of your neck, fucking you a little faster.  "Y-yes, ma'am, yours— m'yours… oh—"
Teeth sinking into your bottom lip, you wrapped your legs around his hips to keep him deep inside.  You could tell he was close, doing his best to hold out until you finished.
"Please," he whimpered, and you felt his hands hold your waist tighter.  "Are you close?  Please, just wanna be good for you, please come…."
You would, but maybe not fast enough for him; “S’okay, baby,” you promised, “it’s gonna be okay— look at me, puppy?”
He pulled his face out of the cave created by your shoulder and the pillow, blinking down at you with watery eyes.  You reached up and pet his face, briefly tangling your fingers into his thoroughly-mussed hair.  Your toes were curling, he was doing everything right— and your first orgasm on his face left you still sensitive— you just needed him to pick up the pace to get you there.
“Li’l faster, puppy,” you instructed, and he whimpered but obeyed; “good boy.”
The bell jingled louder above your face as he panted.  "M-ma'am, I can't— I can't—"
"Shh," you soothed, "yes you can, you can hold on a little longer.  'Cause you're my good little puppy, right?"
"Yes, but—"
"Shh," you soothed, "just keep going, I'm close—"
"I wanna be good for you, I wanna be good," he chanted breathlessly.  "I'm gonna— please let me stop!"
"Don't fucking stop," you hissed.
"But I'll— ohh," he whimpered.  "I'm not allowed to… I need to pull out."
You smiled proudly.  "That's your last present, puppy.  You can stay inside."
He didn't seem to understand right away— maybe he just couldn't believe it.  "Even when I finish?"
You nodded.  "Just because you're so good…"
"O-oh, thank you," he whined, "thank you— I— unh!"
Of course he hardly lasted a second after that, coming inside you as he clutched at the sheets by your face.  He kept rocking his hips, knocking into your most sensitive spot and sending you over the edge at the same time.  
While the pleasure was swirling in your mind and washing over your body in bright-white heat, he was still fucking into you quickly, still whining loudly above you— his hips were still moving even as tears started to stream down his face, even as the height of your ecstasy was already starting to fade.  
"Puppy, you're still going!" you noticed with a laugh.
"Y-you didn't say I could stop yet," he explained, and you sighed.
"You can stop now," you nodded, and he collapsed onto you with a whine.  "Oh, baby— you did really good…"
He shivered as you traced your fingers along the blemishless, pale expanse of his back.  "Really?" he hiccuped.
"Yes, puppy, so very good.  My good boy."
He hummed happily, if sleepily, above you.  You were impressed he still had all that energy left after his party had raged well into the night; maybe it was just that he couldn’t really rest until he knew he’d been good for you.
You both caught your breath for a moment as he wrapped his arms around you and held you tightly.  
"Don't leave this time."
"Huh?" you mumbled
"Don't leave,” he pleaded.  “Don't go home.  Stay here all the time— the visits aren't enough anymore!"
He wasn’t usually so coherent right after an orgasm— this was normally when he was deepest in his puppy space, basically non-verbal with just little whines and smiles to offer you when you asked how he was feeling.  He liked to get cuddly and sweet and give you lots of kisses, sometimes thanking you for being so nice and letting him come.  This… was new.
Sure, asking you to stay longer, even asking you to stay forever, was well-trod territory.  But that was usually the night before you left or the day you took your carriage back to the train back to your estate far, far away.  Not right after coming with another three weeks of your visit left.  “Please,” he whined quietly into your shoulder, and you sighed.
“Ralph, you know I always have to go back home,” you breathed, “there are always things to be done.  I have my own estate to manage, my… family, my sisters and cousins— my great aunt, she needs to be taken care of, too.  Not just you.”
“But you love me,” he whimpered, and you stroked his back soothingly.
“I do,” you hummed.  “I love you very much.  But for all the reasons you can’t come back with me to my home, I can’t stay here in yours.”
"Can't we just get married?"
Your throat caught.  No, it wasn’t the first time he’d asked.  He admitted not too long ago that he’d wanted to ask for your hand as soon as he met you, but Victoria told him not to— she must’ve known you were in no position to say yes.  “Well—”
“Before you say no again,” he begged, popping his head back up to look at you properly, “just think of how nice it would be!  It would be like this all the time—”
“We’d argue, sometimes,” you interjected.
“And I’m already yours forever,” he explained, “so we might as well—”
“Ralph,” you said sternly, making him clamp his mouth shut and look at you sadly.  “Get off of me and go wash yourself.”
“D-don’t make me leave yet,” he pleaded, but you only gave him a stern look.
Disappointed, almost pouting, Ralph pulled out of you carefully and found some undergarments to put back on; you, meanwhile, slipped on your robe again and lit a cigarette, taking deep breaths through it as you admired the way he sat at the foot of the bed, in only his underwear and brand new collar.  “You look quite handsome, darling,” you told him, but he only glanced at you for a moment.
“I just don’t understand why we can’t marry,” he sighed, “if you really love me.”
You didn’t realize he was still on that.  “Because things are expected of me,” you explained, “my family… they’re very traditional.  I’ve known who I’m supposed to marry since I was a little girl.”
Ralph looked at you, over his shoulder, eyes getting redder.  “You’re promised to someone?”
You nodded.
“Dare I ask whom?”
You felt your face get a little warmer— it was sort of embarrassing to admit.  “Well, I think you know I have a distant cousin with a large inheritance?”
Ralph scoffed as he looked back down into his lap.  “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I knew it would upset you,” you explained, “I hoped maybe you’d heard— it’s no secret.”
“No secret?  You let me believe we could be together!” he snapped.
“Watch your tone,” you warned him.
“No!” he yelped standing up.  “I just want to be with you!  N-nothing else has ever made me feel as right as being with you, and you’re going to go marry someone else?  What of me then— I’ll be your, your… mistress?!”
You sighed.  “You’ll find someone else, Ralph.  Anyone should be so lucky to have you—”
“I hate you!” he shouted suddenly, reaching up behind his neck to try to unbuckle the collar.  “Why would you give me this?!”
You sat up, reaching out to try to stop him, but he jumped up and away from you.
“You were lying to me,” he sobbed, “you said you really loved me— you lied!”
He finally managed to get the collar off, throwing it onto the ground and storming out of your room.
You wondered if you should chase after him, or let him have his tantrum and talk in the morning.  Then you remembered that, technically, it was still his birthday.  Or at the very least, it was only a few hours since his birthday ended; you really hadn’t wanted to tell him today, but he was always asking about marriage and commitment, about more than just these occasional visits.  He was bound to find out one way or another.
You sighed, a cloud of smoke rising to the ceiling.  You really shouldn’t have let him find out on his birthday, though…
Putting out the cigarette on a jade ashtray, you got up (finding your legs a little more wobbly than you expected) and stepped out into the hallway.  Ralph was still marching down it defiantly.
“C’mon, Ralph, you can’t go out in just your pants—” you called after him.
“Leave me alone,” he ordered sharply, swinging a door open and slamming it behind him.
You followed him out into the garden, ignoring your own bare-footedness, the cold sod thankfully dry under your soles; he stood facing away from you, arms crossed, staring up at the moon and looking, well… completely ridiculous.  He was almost entirely nude and it was foggy and unpleasant out (not exactly uncharacteristic of London); “Ralphie,” you cooed quietly, and he just sniffled and dropped his head.  “Look at me, please?  I’m sorry.  I should’ve told you from the start.”
He shook his head.  “Wouldn’t’ve made a difference.”
You said nothing, crossing your own arms to cover yourself from the slight evening breeze.
“I can’t change how I feel about you.  It never would’ve been any different, even if I knew.  I would have fallen for you just the same.”
Letting out a long sigh, you nearly got the wind knocked out of you when he spun and snatched you into a tight hug.  “Ralph—” you choked, but he paid no mind to your asphyxiation.
He clung tightly onto the fabric by your waist, dropping his head onto your shoulder and soaking it with his tears.  “We’re supposed to be together,” he insisted, “I know we are.  I know it’s supposed to be you and I— I wanna be your husband, an’ your puppy, and… and anything you want me to be.”
You reached up to wrap your arms around his back.  He stepped closer to you, pressing his whole body against yours. 
“I love you so much,” he whispered.  “You can’t go— you have to stay.”
“I wish that I could,” you replied, “truly.  But I can’t let my family down.”
“If they really cared for you,” he said quietly, “they’d let you love who you wanted.”
You nodded, knowing that was true, but also knowing that you couldn’t let it make a difference.  For a long time, you kept yourself from feeling the way you feel now about Ralph— because you knew it would hold you back and keep you from doing all that must be done.
“You take care of everybody else,” he announced suddenly, pulling back from the embrace just enough to rest his hand on your face.  “Isn’t that so sad?  You take care of everyone— your sisters and your aunt and even me— but who will take care of you?”
Actually, it wasn’t the first time that Ralph was shockingly insightful; he had his head in the clouds most of the time, so in those rare moments where he randomly blurted out something suddenly thoughtful, it threw everyone off. You knew how smart and intuitive he could be, but even still, you never expected him to say something so flippantly that cut right to your core.
“The man you’re supposed to marry— your cousin, I haven’t even begun to address that,” he frowned, “will he?  Take care of you, I mean.  Because I think maybe I could… live with it.  I could never love someone else, but maybe I could let you go on your way, if I knew he would take care of you better than I could.”
You blinked quickly, staring down at the ground, at your bare feet between his in the garden’s grass— the moonlight making their dark green hue look almost blue-ish.  
“Tell me that he will,” he breathed, suddenly grabbing your face with both his hands and pulling it up to look at him and his wide, wild eyes.  “Tell me that he’ll be good to you or tell me that you’ll stay and be my wife.”
“I… I don’t,” you whispered, searching for words and only finding pesky emotions.  “I don’t even think I’d know where to start, being taken care of.”
He smiled wide as he clutched your face, squishing your cheeks, and you scrunched up your nose and tried to writhe away.
“Ralphie, c’mon,” you pouted, breaking out of his embrace, only for him to grab you and hug you tighter again.
“Let me try,” he pleaded, voice soft yet… hopeful.  “Let me try, love, I’ll teach you how.  R’member what you said to me when I first told you that I loved you?”
Can’t help it, he’d hiccuped after another scolding for naughtiness, jus’ love you too much.
All right, you’d replied, but you need to behave.
Dunno how…
And you’d pet him on the head to help him calm down a bit.  I’ll take care of you, puppy.  I’ll teach you how to behave.  
“I remember,” you sighed.
“I wanna take care of you, too,” Ralph insisted.  “I know I’m not s-strong, or… all that masculine, I suppose.  But I love you so much that I think I could do anything.”
You didn’t notice that you were crying until he started to kiss all over your face, kissing your tears away, too.  You giggled and gently pushed on his bare chest to try to escape from the onslaught of affection.
“I think I could be anything!” he announced excitedly, clutching your shoulders as he stood up straight and looked at you.  “I could even be the man you need.  If you just tell me who he is.”
You smiled and brushed one of his tears, left behind in a stripe along his cheek from his outburst, away with your fingers.  “You’re already right here, Ralph.”
He pulled you into a kiss— not desperate, not needy, just warm and soft and all-encompassing.  You draped your arms around his shoulders, humming into it, feeling this bizarre-but-lovely sort of feeling in your chest.  Optimism, maybe?  This was all very new to you.  “Say yes, then,” he mumbled against your lips.  “Say you’ll let me marry you.”
You nodded; you could hardly believe it yourself, but you nodded.
“No, say it,” he insisted, and you broke away from the kiss just far enough to reply.
“I’ll marry you,” you agreed.  He smiled wide and did a happy little jump, quickly pecking you on the cheek again.
“I’m gonna make you so happy, darling, n’take such good care of you,” he promised, “really— you won’t regret it.”
“I’m sure,” you smiled, letting him hug you tight and jostle you around for a moment.  “Okay!  Settle down, now…”
“How could I?  This is the best birthday ever!”
He made you laugh again by showering you in more kisses, on your face and neck and shoulders, mumbling all his promises to do everything he could to be the best husband who ever lived.  It was extravagant, but Ralph wasn’t an especially subtle guy— nor a realistic one.
“I’ll adore you constantly,” he promised between pecks along your jaw, “and— and I’ll buy you whatever you like—”
“That doesn’t matter,” you rolled your eyes, but your stomach was all jittery with excitement anyways.
“I’ll never let anything hurt you,” he went on, and somehow you really felt that you believed him, even if your quieting cynical side swore that those sorts of dreams just don’t come true.  “And we’re going to be so happy— I swear, darling, the happiest people who ever lived.”
You opened your mouth to disagree, to try to keep the both of you from getting your hopes up, but he captured it in another long kiss; by the time it was over, you’d forgotten what you were going to say.  “I love you,” you said instead.
“Love you more,” he cooed as he pecked you on the nose, though he shivered as another gust of breeze shook the shrubberies and tickled his delicate skin.  “Can we go back in now?” he asked with a pout.  “It’s so cold.”
“You’re naked,” you reminded him.
“And I’m cold!” he whined.  “I wanna put my collar back on.”
“Won’t do much for the cold,” you warned, the two of you walking hand-in-hand back to the house.
“No, it won’t,” he agreed, “neither will that ring I bought when you first came to visit us.  But you’ll have to put that on, too.”
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king-crawler · 5 months
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The Disney villain book i ordered 3 weeks ago finally came and the sleeve was oily and chafed but at least I get the fabled single paragraph of King Candy insight
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this is truly a game changer
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And ralf
[TEXT DESCRIPTION BELOW]
Page 166: Disney Villains: Delightfully Evil.
KING CANDY - WRECK-IT RALPH.
RELEASE DATE: November 2, 2012.
DIRECTOR: Rich Moore.
VOICE TALENT: Alan Tudyk.
ANIMATOR: Zach Parrish.
"Everyone should have known with a pass code like UP, UP, DOWN, DOWN, LEFT, RIGHT, LEFT, RIGHT, B, A, START that this sugary-sweet king was not on the up-and-up. Who in the gaming world doesn't know that cheat code?! King Candy is the ruler of Sugar Rush, a video game made of everything sweet to eat, or as a wise Wreck- It Ralph sees it, a "candy-coated heart of darkness.' " But Sugar Rush was not always such a dark place; it was once a happy kingdom where Princess Vanellope von Schweetz ruled until an evil racer from a game called Turbo Time messed with her code and took her game for his own. The biggest shock? King Candy and that villainous racer known as Turbo are one and the same. Alan Tudyk, the voice of King Candy, said he had imagined King Candy to be a much bigger character, size-wise, and found it really funny that he was actually such a small man."
“Portrait of King Candy. Artist: Clay Loftis. Medium: Digital."
“Final Frames of Turbo from Wreck-It Ralph (2012)”
"Concept art of Turbo. Artist: Jim Kim. Medium: digital."
Page 184: Disney Villains: Delightfully Evil.
WRECK-IT RALPH - Wreck-It Ralph.
RELEASE DATE: November 2, 2012.
DIRECTOR: Rich Moore.
VOICE TALENT: John C. Reilly
ANIMATOR: Nik Ranieri
“Wreck-It Ralph is a "bad guy" who has been forced to spend every day for the last thirty years trying to destroy the apartment building that took his home away and to thwart Fix-It Felix from fixing everything Ralph wrecks. After "wrecking" the thirtieth anniversary celebration of his game, Ralph decides to go on a quest to earn a medal and prove to everyone, including himself, that he can be a good guy and do good things. In an interview with the Los Angeles Times, director Rich Moore said that the idea for Wreck-It Ralph came when he was asked by Walt Disney Animation Studios to revamp an idea they had been working on for a while: a movie that takes place in a video game. "Video game characters do the same job every day," said Moore. "I don't know how you could tell a story about that, and then it kind of hits me. ... What if the main character did not like his job? If you had a character who is actually wondering: Is this all there is to life?" "
Concept Art of Vanellope and Ralph. Artist: Bill Schwab. Medium: digital.
Page 185: Disney Villains: Delightfully Evil.
Story sketches of Ralph. Artist: Jim Kim. Medium: Graphite
Final character pose of Ralph.
Final frame of ralph with the Bad-Anon support group from Wreck-It Ralph, 2012.
“Bad-Anon-One Game at a Time
"I'm bad, and that's good. I will never be good, and that's not bad. There's no one I'd rather be than me."
-The Bad Guy Affirmation
Evervone needs a little help from their friends, even if their friends are a group of "bad guys." Bad-Anon is a place where the who's who of gaming bad guys can meet and talk about their feelings and what it is like to always be the one everyone loves to beat. Here are some of the familiar faces from the video games of the 1980s and 1990s.”
Bowser--King Koopa from Super Mario Bros.
Clyde--Ghost from Pac-Man.
Dr. Robotnik- -as himself from Sonic the Hedgehog.
Kano--as himself from Mortal Kombat.
M. Bison--as himself from Street Fighter.
Neff-as himself from Altered Beast.
Zangief-Red Cyclone from the Street Fighter series.
[TEXT DESCRIPTION END]
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usedtobecooler · 2 years
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long hot summer | Ralph Penbury x fem!reader
Pairing | Ralph Penbury x fem!reader
Warnings | sexual content (18+ minors dni), stripping, boob fondling, coming in pants (times two cause i'm a heathen), cunnilingus, eager ralph, rude reader, train sex
Word Count | 1.9k
A/N | listen i really should be working on prompts i know, but i needed to try out writing for our little ralphie and my heart wouldn't rest until i did it ))):
The steam train was stuffy, a warm July day making the heat onboard unbearable. You'd never witnessed muggy heat like this, so used to the cool sea breeze in Spain that the air in central London was disgustingly dense in comparison.
You're only in a chemise, cooling yourself with your fan but inevitably still warm enough that drops of sweat slide down the dip of your breast, pooling into your corset. Damn this weather, damn the Brits, damn Victoria for subjecting you to this horrid trip. You made a mental note in your head to never return after this trip.
Things weren't being made any better by the fact that Victoria's ridiculous twin brother, Ralph, had been expected to chaperone you during this entire journey north. He was always so loud, unable to shut off at any given moment, he always had something to talk about. You swear this was the quietest he'd been the entire train ride, as if the cat had gotten his tongue.
He's disheveled looking, cream suit jacket thrown on the empty seat next to him and shirt rolled up to his elbows, top button popped to reveal a glimpse of chest hair. You stare too long, he's going to catch on soon, and your peaceful silence will be over.
He's disheveled looking, cream suit jacket thrown on the empty seat next to him and shirt rolled up to his elbows, top button popped to reveal a glimpse of chest hair. You stare too long, he's going to catch on soon, and your peaceful silence will be over.
"How long is left of this journey?" You snap, fanning yourself a bit harder, but all it does is wave the warm air back to you, prickly heat attacking your skin and making you feel disgusting, in need of a bathe.
Ralph shrugs, doesn't even lighten up any as you talk, smile faltering and failing to appear, "I'm not sure, an hour, maybe."
The heat truly is getting to him, you can tell. He isn't his usual bubbly, ridiculously puppy-like self, he sounds worn out. Tired. The blistering heat becoming too much.
You sigh, "This is ridiculous," you fuss, slapping down your fan on the table to make haste of unfastening the top clasps on your corset, grateful that today your chemise adorned buttons along the chest also.
"What - what are you doing, madam. You can't undress yourself here." Ralph strains, unable to take his wide eyes off of you as he watches your breasts spill from their confines, slick with sweat and flushed pink in the heat.
"We are in a private carriage, Ralph. The blind is down, nobody will come in. Do you have a problem?" You quirk an eyebrow at him, continuing to undo buttons with your eyes on his, unable to decipher how he feels right in that very moment.
He looks distressed. Hand tightening on the rim of his hat on the table, his cheeks flushing darker than before, and you don't think it's from the heat this time. You smirk a little, removing your hands from the boned material of your corset and setting them prettily on the table, fingertips dancing along the solid mahogany.
"Ralph, have you ever seen a woman's breasts outside of their undergarments before?" You're teasing him, a glint in your eye. You hit the nail on the head, clearly, because Ralph can't meet your gaze anymore and he's turning away, suddenly the ceiling becoming ever so interesting to him.
"I, um, well I - you see," Ralph stumbles over his words, cheeks burning hot, the flush beginning to spread down his neck, "not - not really, no."
"Not really?" You ask, faking wonderment so he'll keep going. You toe your heels off under the table, your stocking clad foot connecting with Ralph's calf and eliciting a gasp from his bitten lips as you run it up and down, "A pretty boy like you, never been with a woman?"
Ralph stutters, sucking in a sharp breath as he lets your foot glide over his leg through his pants, the feeling making his cock spring to attention fully, as if he hadn't been at half-mast the entire journey just by watching you fan your bosom, "They say I'm too eager, madam. They'd be right, but I don't think that's a bad thing."
Your tummy tightens at his admission - eager. How could a woman deny an eager man willing to please them? It's a crying shame, that Ralph had never laid his hands on a woman and pleasured her - even if he lacked experience, eagerness would always make up for that.
"Would you like to see mine?" You say eventually, foot rising higher and higher until you're rubbing the inside of his thigh and he's positively whimpering, hazarding a glance back at you.
You make a show of it for him, unbuttoning and unclasping your layers until your plush tits fall loose form their confinements, nipples hardening in slight temperature change in the air. You never take your eyes off of him, keep your foot running up and down his inner thigh, "What do you think, Ralphie? Is it everything you dreamed it'd be?"
"Can I -" Ralph starts, fingers gripping onto the edge of the table as if he's stopping himself from lunging over, "Can I touch them, madam?"
You suck in a sharp breath, a tiny little moan escaping you, "Of course you can, Ralph. Anything you want."
He barely allows you to finish the sentence before he's reaching a hand out to cup your left breast, thumb running over the hardened nub of your nipple curiously, eliciting a breathy whine from you, "Wow, this is brilliant!"
You roll your eyes, as usual his silly mouth ruining the illusion, so you shut him up by running your foot up higher, ghosting over the hard outline of his cock in his pants. And something unexpected happens;
"Gosh, madam, I'm going to -" Ralph cuts himself off with a groan, hunching in on himself, thumb and forefinger pinching your nipple hard as he comes in his pants. You blink at him, almost stupidly, as you watch him moaning, feeling his cock pulsing under the sole of your foot as he unloads in his confines.
"Oh, Ralphie, I didn't realise you'd release so quickly," You pout, because what a crying shame that is, over before it had even began, "I was only just starting to have fun having my way with you."
Ralph blushes, looking up at you with watery eyes as his fingers fall deftly from the curve of your breast, "I'm so sorry, ma'am. I don't know what quite came over me."
You have to stifle back a giggle at Ralph's choice of words, inappropriate considering what just happened, "Maybe I have a way you could make it up to me?" You hazard, core still aching and cunt desperate to be touched, you just hoped Ralph truly was as eager as he said he was.
"Anything, madam. Anything you want." Ralph's pleading with you - begging, even. It's adorable, has you clenching your thighs as a blooming begins in the pit of your stomach.
"Why don't you slide under this table and take a glance up my skirts. You'd like that, right, Ralphie?" You coo, a dirty smirk spreading over your features and darkening them. You spread your legs as an invitation, getting yourself comfortable.
He doesn't have to be asked twice, sliding under the table and pushing his head under the skirt of your dress, the curls in his hair tickling at your thighs, "Gosh, madam. No panties?" He gasps, and you giggle as you lift your skirts up to watch him wide eyed, face to face with your glistening wet pussy.
"I always wondered if the day would come where my lack of underwear would come in handy," You quip, feeling proud of yourself, unable to tear your eyes away from Ralph's fascinated stare at your anatomy, "Come on then, Ralphie. Don't you want to work that mouth of yours?"
Ralph nods eagerly, gripping at your thighs and nuzzling into your cunt, flat of his tongue coming out to tentatively slide between your folds, catching your clit on the upstroke. You gasp, hand coming out to grasp at his curls, winding them between your fingers.
"Oh, Ralph," You moan, his inexperience telling in the way that he's trying to find his footing and there's no real rhythm to his movements, but his tongue feels delicious on your pussy, the occasional slip over your clit driving you mad, "Such a good boy, Ralphie."
Ralph moans into your cunt at your praise, and your eyes glisten, delighted that you'd hit a nerve with him. Of course he had a praise kink, he was as puppy like as a man came, you're almost positive if you threw a bone at him he'd chase it. Adorable, almost pitiful to some, but maybe not to you.
You find the knot in your tummy winding up unexpectedly, his large tongue deftly licking over you just enough to have you teetering on the edge all too quickly, and you're almost saddened by how fast this will all be over.
You glance down at Ralph, and he must feel his eyes on you because he looks up, a pleading look on his chocolate brown, wet loser boy eyes, almost like he's asking if he's doing a good job. His nose perches prettily on your mound, nestled in amongst your trimmed hair, and well, if it isn't the prettiest sight you've ever seen.
You open your mouth in a quiet moan when Ralph licks over your clit and stays there this time, "That's it, Ralphie. Right there, what a good little pup. So good for me," You praise, and Ralph whimpers into your skin, you feel him rutting against the air, "Oh, oh!"
You come with a sharp cry, tipping your head back until the vast expanse of your sweat slick neck is bared, thighs squeezing at Ralph's head as fireworks explode behind your eyes. You shake and shudder through your orgasm, body feeling impossibly hotter as the coil unravels in the pit of your gut.
Ralph's hands grasp onto your thighs pathetically tight, a broken, choked, wet moan escaping his mouth as he shakes against your leg, a tell-tale sign that he's coming again. Your pussy clenches as he whines into the meat of your thigh, eyes squeezing shut whilst he ruts against you.
You pet his head to help him through the last of it, and he keens into the touch. Ralph truly was like a puppy, it was so endearing.
You glance out of the window, eyes widening as you see the train station in your near sights, "Ralph, Ralph!" You hiss, shaking at him, "Get up and compose yourself, we're almost here."
Ralph waves you off like an idiot, your fingers fumbling with your clasps to tuck your bosom away before somebody saw you, a wreck over a virgin boy who touched you. Mortifying, truly.
When you both eventually step off of the train, Victoria is there to greet you, and her smile falters, a grimace taking over her features, "Good grief, you two. You look disgusting, like you've been working like dogs in the prison. Up to, you need to bathe before tonight's party."
She claps her hands, turning around without a second glance and you roll your eyes once you're sure she's not looking.
She really was not your favourite Penbury.
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Preliminary Poll
Vanellope von Schweets
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Submission reason:
Ralph Breaks The Internet was a fucking awful sequel in almost every possible way, including how it characterised Vanellope. In the first movie, she's a spunky, brave, gutsy lil kid who desperately wants not just to be a playable character, but to be accepted. Seen as a 'glitch', she is literally not accepted as human by the other characters in the game. She can also be a bit of a pill, but that's understandable given her FIFTEEN YEARS of exile and ostracisation in her own home. Also unrelated but her 'glitch' not being 'fixed' by the end, but instead her learning to accept and even embrace it as part of herself and the other racers accepting her as she is - amazing. (curing disability trope my beloathed) Jump-cut to the sequel, where six years have passed and suddenly her fifteen-year dream is... too... boring for her? What? Where'd that come from? So her solution is to build some fun shortcuts and extra tracks and whatnot in the game - okay, sure, but then she starts going against the player and taking control to use those shortcuts while being played, in broad fucking daylight, which - oh, shocker - leads to the game getting unplugged. Indirectly, but still! Then she and Ralph (and believe me I will make an entire separate post for him because they BUTCHERED him) go to the Internet - again, in broad daylight while the arcade is open. Isn't... isn't leaving their games in the middle of the day exactly what almost got Ralph's game unplugged in the first movie? Huh? Nothing much to add for most of the movie. Vanellope just acts like a brat the entire time, which does not remotely make sense for her as a character. But then. The ending happens. Oh fucking gee guvnor I wonder how they could possibly fuck up the ending that badly - OH LET ME TELL YOU. So like in the movie they go into this multiplayer apocalypse car-jacking game a la Fortnite, and Vanellope decides within less than a day that this game is totally the coolest place ever and she should totally stay here forever. And she. she does. she stays in Slaughter Race forever. this is presented as the Right Thing To Do because she's Following Her Dreams and isn't it great NO! NO IT ISN'T! She's the president of Sugar Rush, and yet she's fully prepared to drop her responsibilities and go off to live somewhere else without a second thought. This isn't 'following your dreams'. This is a nine-year-old kid acting on impulse. And the movie paints her as being in the right! I'm not at all saying Ralph WAS in the right (again, we'll get to him) but even if he was well-written I'd still expect him to be concerned with Vanellope's decision here. Oh and then there's the fact that SHE'S PRETTY MUCH DOING EXACTLY WHAT THE VILLAIN IN THE FIRST MOVIE DID. What it was supposed to be a cautionary tale AGAINST doing. Heck, Vanellope was hands-down the person hurt the most by Turbo's actions, and yet she brushes it off with "I'm one of sixteen racers, who's going to miss me?" Sure, but aren't you a little concerned that the players might miss not only the main character of the game, but also the most popular character by far? Or maybe even the other racers? Who have supposedly been your friends for six years now? None of them would miss you? And it's never even brought up! Turbo and the negative effects of his actions are never even mentioned, by either party. I can even imagine something with this plotline working in a better written movie - again, Vanellope was the person hurt the most by Turbo's actions, so it should be her call after all. They could have spent longer making sure this decision was the right one, shown Vanellope doubting it and eventually deciding it's what she truly wants, gone through the whole process of making sure this move won't hurt anyone, all the other characters coming to terms with it, they could even make a case for how all the trauma Vanellope endured in Sugar Rush kind of tainted it for her and that's why she's so dissatisfied with her life there - but no, none of that. It all feels staggeringly out of character and makes barely any sense.
(And don't get me started on how the Slaughter Race crew just magically happen to find the original code for a twenty-one-year-old arcade game character, snip it out and plug it into an online game. I know the movie about videogame characters coming to life isn't exactly famed for having realistic representation of how coding works, but this is some absolute bullshit and it just gets immediately swept under the rug.) So yeah they well and truly massacred my girl Vanellope and the sequel is non-canon in my mind. Thank you and goodnight.
Propaganda:
Not sure if it counts, but I wanted to just mention it. There's this really really good fix-it fic of the sequel on fanfiction.net called It's A Slaughterful Life. Go read it. It's amazing.
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