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ill-skillsgard · 4 years

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Six Years - Axel Cluney

Title: Six Years

Characters: AU Axel Cluney x ambiguous female OC

Description: Six years, ten years, twenty... No amount of jail time will stop Axel from taking back his throne.

Warning: 18+ sex/oral/cheating/dub-con (kind of, not really)/creampie - This is intended for a mature adult audience. All opinions and occurrences in this piece are purely fictitious and do not reflect any real person or event. Please read at your own discretion.

Note: I feel really bad for having no time to work on drabble requests and stuff. I’m sure you all understand now isn’t the easiest time and my silence is for no reason other than focusing more energy on important matters. Here’s a piece from my Patreon for those of you who don’t subscribe. And anyone who is a patron, I’ve just dropped a surprise for you guys over that way.

I hope you guys enjoy!

She gasped, not from pleasant surprise—though Axel’s presence indeed came unexpected—but from utter shock. How dare he knock on her door late at night and how dare he dawn that crooked, criminal smile. How dare he pitch his arm against the doorjamb, wearing his pants low on his hips with the band of his underwear on display, his own version of a supermodel. And how dare he try to reach out and touch her face.

Fantasies of this exact situation had frolicked in her daydreams for years, but she never expected them to manifest on her doorstep. Yet there he stood, winking one green eye. He hadn’t shaved in a few days, wearing his neglect on his chin and upper lip in that fashionably scruffy way. Though his upbeat energy hadn’t dwindled an inch, something about him had changed. She spent a breathless moment trying to pick out the detail.

It was the tattoos. Axel had accumulated a considerable amount of ink since last they saw each other before he went away. Her eyes studied the markings on his arms, glimmering as they moved along the crude images.

Why he chose her doorstep to reveal himself was no mystery. His grimy smile said it all. She glanced back, then stepped into the hall and shut the door. Axel gave her space—another surprise.

“What the hell are you doing here, Axel? How did you find out where I live?”

Axel flashed a lopsided grin. “That’s not important. Say, who were you talking to in there? S’that your roommate?”

He had nerves. Enough to stand at the door, listening to the mutters of conversation before knocking, interrupting her boyfriend in the middle of another political speech in which she had no volley. She had about thirty seconds—a minute, tops—to shoo her ex away before her current flame got curious.

Her choices were to tell him off, but Axel would never leave if he had already jumped through hoops to find her address, or push him down the hall into the stairwell to buy a couple more minutes of conversation. She chose the latter, and motioned him away, realizing her tank top and pyjama shorts were a drastic step-down from casual. The seam of her bottoms rode up, revealing two swells of muscle that tantalized the man following her.

Behind the fire door, he cornered her on the landing between two flights of concrete steps. Her breaths echoed off the cement and carried off above and below.

“Axel, I can’t,” she said.

“Sh, baby, don’t say that.”

A tingle of danger spread through her hands and feet—that sensation from another age when her only obligations were schoolwork and not becoming another teenage pregnancy statistic.

Axel followed her until they came eye-to-eye, her three steps up on the flight, and he on the landing.

“You look so good,” Axel said, reaching out to graze her bare legs. “I missed you.”

“Please, I can’t... My boyfriend. He’s in my apartment,” she warned.

“Who’re you dating? Do I know him?”

“No, you don’t know him. He’s from out of town,” she said.

“Oh, yeah? How long you been seeing him for?” Axel asked.

Firecrackers went off in her stomach, reminding her of the time Axel brought a handful of black cats on one of their dates. He liked to stick them in places they had no business being inside. He did that a lot.

“It doesn’t matter. This can’t happen. I’m sorry. It’s been like six years, Axel. I’ve moved on.”

“Well, I haven’t,” Axel murmured. “You seriously don’t want to pick up where we left off? Man, I loved us together. We had such good times. Don’t you remember?”

“Yeah, Axe, they were good times, but that was forever ago. And I didn’t even know you were back in town! You can’t just show up out of the blue and expect me to jump into your arms.”

“I had to see you. Your brother gave me your address... After I bribed him with beer. I spent my only ten bucks in the world trying to find you.”

She cursed her sibling under her breath. He always liked Axel, and for beer, there wasn’t much he wouldn’t give up.

“Did you hear me?” Axel asked.

“Yes, I heard you!” She snapped. “It doesn’t matter, Axe. I’m not dumping my boyfriend for you.”

An oily smile slithered over his face. Axel took one step up, and she matched it, keeping their eye-level consistent. It was that smile that made her do bad things, those flashing teeth convincing her to disregard obligations. His lips had whispered and kissed her into breaking laws, promises and ties. Hell, they had nearly talked her into dropping out of school at one time. And for what? For her to become a criminal alongside him? No. She had a life to live, one that didn’t involve running from the law.

But Axel was nothing if not a persistent man. No was not a word he relished. Always one to spurn restrictions, Axel advanced on her until she turned and climbed up the stairs. He followed her to the top, licking his lips as he watched her ass moving from side to side with every step. The door to the roof stopped her as Axel grabbed her hips and pulled her backward.

Axel kissed the back of her thigh, and when she didn’t protest, stuffed his face between her legs.

“Oh, yes... Gimme that ass,” Axel shivered. “That’s mine.”

She hated that her love remained untainted by the years he spent locked up. When months had gone by she vowed to forget him, but the promise was made in vain. No man could usurp the throne she’d erected and hidden in the deepest recesses of her untamed heart. The thicket had only grown wilder and more resilient in his absence, waiting for his return to release its stranglehold.

And she hated herself for failing to resist now. Cursing her heart, she allowed him to curl his fingers under the waist of her shorts. The fireworks shooting off in her stomach began a great fire in her belly that ate away her reserve—not that her immunity to Axel’s whims had ever been any stronger than gossamer.

It was no secret that every man in her life after him had been a placeholder. Some were smart—much smarter than Axel—while others matched his look, but never mimicked his spark. Some had stable jobs, good habits and strong family ties, but they didn’t promise adventure. When she turned around to face Axel, it was like gazing into a crystal ball, watching the careless times of her life flashing in his eyes.

He peeled her shorts off, lifted one thigh over his shoulder and yanked her panties aside to lick the parting of her folds. A moan drew from his throat, reminding her that this was real and not a fleeting vision to tickle her boredom. The sensation jarred her into the present, and she pushed his head away.

“Axel, I said I can’t.”

His hand flew out to bring her back in. “Too fucking late.”

He spun her around, pressed his palm against her tailbone, bending her over, and dove back in from behind. Ten long fingers clutched her cheeks, spreading her lips open for his tongue to explore. Her taste elated years-old desire, and soon he had her on the ground with her legs over his shoulders.

“Look at me,” he demanded. “See this pussy? You see this beautiful slit right here? That belongs to me. Do you understand, sweetheart? It doesn’t matter if they put me away for six years... Ten years. Twenty. No, it doesn’t matter because you’re mine, aren’t you?”

The courage to agree with him hadn’t arrived. She fought a battle in her mind even as he trailed the tip of his tongue around her clit. There he rang, summoning her audacity with gentle flickers and groans. The vibrations woke each nerve in her body—some she thought forever put to rest. But they sang beneath his praises, voices fanning the forest fire spreading through her body.

“Axel, oh my god.”

“Yeah, nobody eats it like I do, huh?”

With her hand clasped over her mouth, she muffled her reactions. The gasps that slipped from the cracks travelled down the stair shaft. To think any moment someone might open the door excited her heart to racing. Who knew what was beyond the exit or coming up the steps from below? All she knew was his lips sipping on the liquid he spat between her legs. He worked her into a lather with his tongue, then introduced one of his fingers slowly until the warm metal of a ring brushed her opening.

“Tell me you missed my fingers inside you, baby. That’s what I wanna hear—what I need to hear right now. Say your pussy will always belong to me.”

“Axel—” she choked, still unable to admit defeat even amidst an obscene display.

Axel splayed her thighs, holding the ditches of her knees, so all she had left to think about was his mouth trailing slobber and a lively tongue in luscious patterns over her pussy. No inch of her parts went untouched, unkissed or without admiration for long. And the noises—oh, the sweet sound of Axel’s purr against her clit, magnificent and just intense enough to tease her to the edge of orgasm. He added another finger and rubbed upwards while tickling her thighs with his scruff.

“I want your cum. Right now. It belongs to me, and I’ve come to take what’s mine. You can tell your pansy-ass boyfriend to pack his bags, ‘cause I’m home now,” Axel’s voice trailed into a giggle. She despised how cute he could be with his infectious laughter and straying eyes. “Be sure to thank him for keeping my pussy warm, though.”

A smirk broke over her face, setting Axel off on another filthy exclamation.

“Yeah, that’s right. You’ve been waiting for this big cock, haven’t you? Tell me, honey... Is he hung like me? Does he stretch your pussy out ‘til it’s sore like I do?”

Still, she remained silent. Axel could have her body, but he would never hear her say he was right. And it was that stubbornness he loved.

“Oh, come on, cat got your tongue, baby? Or is it you can’t think when I finger your wet little hole?”

He sped his strokes, angling his fingertips just so, reading her face even if she muffled her cries behind her hand. This skill he mastered long ago. Every bit of her body came alive beneath his touch, and he used each part to arouse her forth. Her nipples were subject to his free hand, pulled and pinched between his knuckles as he scooped up one breast and the other. When he had his fill of toying with her chest, his hand slithered to her neck, first caressing and then squeezing with care. A trapped moan buzzed in her throat, assuring him the motion he maintained with his other hand was well received.

Two fingers coaxing fluid, a pair of lips kissing and sucking at her clit, and a firm hold on her throat had her pleasure soaring until it hovered in the air, finally nose-diving into an explosion of pent up lust, heat and scandal. With the plummet came the harsh reality: she was unfaithful. It was too late; hammered in stone, factual. She was a cheater, and nothing would fix that. No amount of regret or sorrow could cleanse this mistake. But oh, how her womanhood trembled beneath his charge.

“Yes, that’s what I want. See? I knew you wanted it.”

Axel hadn’t finished when her tremors turned to shakes. He climbed the two remaining steps, took hold of her and flipped her onto her knees.

“My turn. Did you think I’d let you go without a little something for me? Without giving you this big cock?”

“I have to go. My boyfriend—”

The clap of a cupped hand meeting skin interrupted her protest and thundered down the stairwell.

“I didn’t come all this way not to pump you full of cum. So shut your mouth before I make you and take my fucking load like a good girl.”

Ever a man of his word, Axel made a quick act of finishing inside of her. He rubbed against her, balls emptying months of lust and abstinence while he laid his cheek against her back, panting.

“Did you miss me, baby?” Axel asked, feeling around for her shorts to hand back.

“I should have known you’d do something like this when you came home,” she dismissed.

“Honey, I did nothing I wasn’t allowed to do,” Axel chuckled. “Sure, I threw you off guard. But what does it matter? You’d have caught wind of my being home and dropped that little boyfriend of yours in a heartbeat. Know why?”

She twisted around to watch Axel helping her with her shorts. “Why?”

“Because you love me, and I love you, and we are meant for each other. Now go back to him with my cum inside you. Sleep beside him for one more night. I don’t care. You’ll be with me again soon.”

#axel cluney fanfiction #bill skarsgard fanfiction #bill skarsgard smut #bill skarsgard imagine #au fanfiction #fanfiction #axel stuff

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author-mandi-bean · 7 years

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I know it’s been a while since the last time I wrote, which is a phrase I use much too often to begin these posts. I promised myself I would make writing a priority and I haven’t. To paraphrase William Wordsworth, the world is too much with me. I let work and friends and television and social media and solitaire and invented melodramas take up much too much of my time, but that is all changing, slowly but surely. After all, they say you need to acknowledge and admit to having a problem before you can even begin to solve it.

It is a REAL tragedy writing hasn’t moved more into the forefront of my thoughts and ambitions and desires because that conference/workshop was truly life changing. It was a whirlwind of emotions, but I left feeling validated and prepared and motivated and determined. I mustn’t lose sight of that, or it will all be for nothing.

So today, I kicked my own ass running along the Barnegat Bay (good for body and soul) and am sitting down to properly update you all on that amazing, life-changing, soul-affirming trip to St. Augustine. The trip to Florida was relatively unremarkable; I left my parents house at about midnight (after only shutting my eyes for three hours before the 15-hour drive; I was too anxious, too excited, too eager) and essentially took I-95 all the way down. I passed A LOT of accidents, which I worried might be a bad omen, but I also drove by the Capitol Building, the Washington Monument, and the Pentagon, which I don’t think I’ve ever done despite my many years traveling up and down the Eastern seaboard. Once I arrived in St. Augustine and made it to the hotel, all of my fears were assuaged. I made it, and I had never felt so blessed in my life. It was stunning – absolutely breathtaking – gorgeous! There were so many boats out on the water – the weather was pretty much perfect the entire time I was in St. Augustine – and I could see the boats in the bay from the balcony outside my hotel room. It was impossible (well, almost) to tell the residents from the tourists because everyone was walking along the water in the sunshine. Handsome men were running shirtless, couples were taking leisurely strolls with cool beverages in hand. Such clichéd phrases don’t even do it justice, but they’re all I seem able to muster. I was – and still am – SO grateful, SO thrilled for the opportunity. It was AMAZING and I was continuously in AWE.

How did I ever come back to Jersey?

People in St. Augustine seemed – to me, anyway – to have MONEY – like Gatsby money, and I didn’t bring a laptop to a flipping writers’ workshop/conference (because I didn’t have one; couldn’t afford one). I momentarily felt like an utter moron, but I was okay. And the first thing I purchased with my tax return money was a laptop so I feel like EVEN MORE of a writer now.

Anyway, the first night in St. Augustine was marked by an informal, get-to-know-everyone-dinner. It was … interesting, tp say the VERY least. I went down to the hotel lobby around 7pm and sat outside and waited. Naturally, the others had gathered inside so when I awkwardly meandered in after creeping about the greenery, I met everyone.

Greg is a retired firefighter from the Midwest. Joanna published two novels twenty years ago, and has a house in Palm Beach and a house in the Hamptons. Paula was in medical communications but now she lives in Houston and I think she’s writing full time. Add me to the crew and we were the writers all staying at the hotel.

I instinctively liked Michael Neff, the editor. I hoped I made a good impression and toyed the line between desperate and casual, if such a line even exists. During dinner, I sat between Joanna and Noreene, who just flew in from the Grand Cayman Islands; completely chic and fabulous. I sat across from Doug from Cincinnati; he was hard to read at first, but shortly became one of my favorite people from the whole experience (he used to be a stand-up comedian and the last few days in St. Augustine, he made me laugh so hard, I cried and on top of that, he really is a phenomenal writer, so whatever. Maybe I’m mostly jealous; favorite might be too positive a word. But I’m just kidding. Maybe). Greg was across from me as was Literary Agent Paula (who I’m only referring to as such to differentiate her from Paula from Houston; don’t worry, I didn’t call her that or anything).

I LOVED Literary Agent Paula and on the first night, she gave me GREAT advice. I’ve subscribed to Publisher’s Marketplace, have decided to really focus on finding an agent, am endeavoring to attend more “pitch” conferences, and have decided to break away from Martin Sisters Publishing (the separation ended up being mutual … more on that later). But from listening to everyone talk about the conferences they’d been to and the important people they knew, I felt overwhelmed and realized I was greener than I thought. I was the youngest person there by decades. I knew I had the talent and the passion, but quickly began to understand that I needed the wisdom.

Cris is an author from California and Lunka is an aspiring writer with a full-time job (so we had a somewhat instant connection) from Denver; so cool.

So the next day (February 25th) marked the first REAL day of the conference/workshop. I was SCARED; I worked on my pitch for the novel I was currently working on (the title was stupid, so I’ll just call it The Duke Story [even though that’s also stupid]) the night before but still felt mostly nauseous. We met at a beautiful house right on the beach, and it was like something out of a movie or, even better, out of a dream. We sat in a circle and everyone read their pitches. It was so cool and interesting to see how everyone’s pitch matched their personality. I was really impressed with a couple of the stories, and everyone had something awesome to share … except me. At least that’s what it felt like, because my mood went from nauseated to dead when both Literary Agent Paula and Michael told me The Duke Story wasn’t marketable and encouraged me to work on “Don’t Drink the Water” (but that title is different now, too).

I felt deflated and was too wrapped up in my own shit to enjoy lunch at The Reef, but I did get to know Cris. When we returned to the house to wrap up the day’s session, Literary Agent Paula advised me to ask Hallie Ephron (ARE YOU KIDDING ME?) about the possibility of working on Her Beautiful Monster; Michael loved the title and wanted me to re-work it, but Literary Agent Paula was nervous because it had been published, has an ISBN number, and can easily be looked up … even though the publisher is so small it’s obscure. I felt lost and was happy to return to the hotel. Joanna drove Greg, Paula and me back to the hotel, but we stopped at Publix and the liquor store first. Paula and I needed some grocery items and we all needed booze after the first day. I happily joined them for the free happy hour at the hotel, and got to know Paula better. We sat on the porch swing outside of her room and talked a little bit about everything in our lives. Then I got to work on our assigned homework (identify five things that make our protagonist sympathetic, interesting, unique, etc. by showing, not telling). I used Charlotte from “Don’t Drink the Water” and did okay.

The second day (February 26th) was MUCH better for my ego, my soul, my passion. When I pitched “Don’t Drink the Water,” both Michael and Literary Agent Paula liked it. Then I went on to meet Robert Olen Butler and HE CHANGED MY LIFE. Throughout the course of our conversation, he validated my dream. He understood The Duke Story and my intention; he took the words right out of my mouth, the words I wished I had when I first pitched the story in front of everyone, and he told me he believed I could do it. I cried and hugged him. He is an amazing man and I will forever be indebted to him, no matter what comes of my so-called writing career.

After the conversation, I reworked my pitch and befriended Lunka. We had a spiritual connection as we were both really moved by our conversations with Robert and we exchanged numbers. I have a new writer friend :) After the day’s schedule, Greg and I got dinner in downtown St. Augustine, and I drank and bonded with Joanna at the hotel’s happy hour. While we were there, we met HALLIE EPHRON. I tried to play it cool, but I was sweaty and I’m almost certain I mumbled and drooled instead of actually forming words. She couldn’t have been nicer. Michael brought her there to check her in and he stopped to say hello and encouraged me to do his online course after the workshop/conference. Spoiler alert: I definitely am.

The third day (February 27th) was INTENSE. The morning was actually low-key; we re-worked our pitches and shared our character traits of our protagonists. We all broke for lunch after, and I ate Chinese with Joanna, Paula and Greg. We shared a bottle of wine to calm ourselves because the second half of the day, we pitched our stories to Executive Editor Lyssa Keusch of HarperCollins Publishers (WHAT?! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!), Brendan Deneen of Macmillan Entertainment (IS THIS REAL LIFE?!), and Hallie Ephron, the New York Times Best Selling Author (SERIOUSLY?!?!). It was a whirlwind and while I didn’t feel 100% about the experience, it was SO informational and beneficial.

To commemorate our last full day together in St. Augustine, we had dinner together and it was AMAZING, GREAT, WONDERFUL! Joanna and I became as thick as thieves, Doug made me laugh, and Noreene was as sweet as she was fabulous. Joanna and Greg and I drank together back at the hotel and Joanna convinced Lyssa to join us. SO EPIC. SO AWESOME.

All that was scheduled for our very last day (February 28th) were individual consults with Michael Neff. After each consult, the writer left amidst heartfelt goodbyes. My consult was GREAT; Michael was so helpful and encouraging. I left the conference/workshop with a definite purpose and direction and really, what more can a writer ask for? I am in the middle of research, of signing up for the novel development online course, and am beginning writing very soon.

So when I returned to Jersey all fired up, I emailed Martin Sisters Publishing to inquire about my second novel, MOODY BLUE. I had signed a contract and sent it back, but that was back in the final month of 2016 and had heard nothing back. As it turns out, they had no intention of publishing my novel (said they “…couldn’t give it the attention it deserves”) and offered to send it to an even smaller online publisher.

I told them not to bother, but thanked them for everything. I emailed Literary Agent Paula, Michael, and have begun to query agents once again.

Here we go.

Below are links to Joanna’s website and Doug’s website. joannaelm.com DougSpakWrites.com

And I’m sharing some pictures below.

This was the SPECTACULAR view right outside my door.

This was at the edge of the balcony and to the right.

This was the RIDICULOUSLY comfy bed in my room.

These were those boats on the beautiful bay.

This was the walkway where I watched so many people pass.

The view of the hotel from across the street.

How I ended most of my days

There was a cat that lived on the property; her name was Princess and she was friendly.

Prompts start again next week … I promise!

On life-changing events. I know it's been a while since the last time I wrote, which is a phrase I use much too often to begin these posts.

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