#i did. i definitely enjoyed parts but it did fall flat for me

[youssefguedira]

i feel like i've been defending why i didn't like [REDACTED] a lot lately because i've been meeting a lot of new people and it keeps coming up in conversation. and whenever i talk about it i feel like i keep adding the caveat of a) i didn't say it was bad, i think it's a very well made film that handles its subject poorly in a lot of ways and i just didn't like it and b) i was never going to like it because of problems i have with both the subject matter and the director, so unless it was something completely unexpected it wasn't going to win me over because it's not the type of film i like even outside of all my issues with it. and i do wish people would take that into account tbh

[bleedingoptimism]

Steve likes to watch youtube videos of a guy who restores old consoles. It soothing to him, it relaxes him. He likes watching how he restores them, fixes them, makes them look brand new.

He also enjoys watching him work for… other reasons. Weirdly, he thinks the guy is kind of hot, even if he never shows his face. He looks fit, with the way his shirts stretch over his chest and are loose on his tiny waist and he’s always wearing cool belts, black leather with studs or chains. He likes the way he moves around, manic and a little clumsy but incredibly precise when necessary.

Steve especially likes watching his hands, thick strong fingers, bony wrists, noticeable veins, and short clean nails that sometimes have chipped black polish adorning them.

He sometimes thinks about those hands when he's alone, but, well… no one needs to know about that.

🎮🤲💖

Eddie has a fairly popular youtube channel… And a huge crush on his next-door neighbor. He simply cannot decide if the dude is cutter than hot or vice-versa.

'He sure is nice, though,' he thinks, when one day he gets a large package of replacement parts that he’s struggling to get inside and the guy walks up to him, asks if he needs any help, and takes the heaviest box with no effort at all.

He says his name is Steve and then stares at Eddie's hand for a really long time when Eddie extends it for him to shake after getting the boxes inside his studio.

He hears Steve’s little 'oh', under his breath and then sees him blush prettily before mumbling ‘He needs to go, now.' And stumbling out of Eddie’s place.

Eddie chuckles to himself as he watches him leave, definitely cute AND hot in equal parts.

🎮🤲💖

A few weeks later Steve's mom tells him she needs help getting rid of some of his nonno's old things and he finds a LOT of cool stuff that look just like the ones Eddie restores on his channel.

He and Eddie have been slowly getting friendlier over these last couple of weeks and he’s been dying to have an excuse to talk to him more, so he takes the items home and then goes to Eddie's and very nervously tries to offer them to him but doesn't know how to explain he knows he's a youtuber without looking like a weirdo because Eddie’s never shown his face.

He stumbles and blushes a lot, barely making any sense and Eddie mistakenly thinks he's trying to ask him out and says, 

"I'd love to go on a date with you," Smiling and hiding his dimples behind a lock of hair he's been playing with since the moment Steve started stuttering.

Steve completely forgets what he was trying to say or do and says he'll pick him out at 6.

The date is amazing, it feels like they are meant to be. They get along so well, talking, laughing, and already making fun of each other as if they’re old friends. And they are definitely attracted to one another. If the way Eddie practically tackles Steve with his rush to get his mouth on him when they get back, it’s any indication.  

Steve is very on board with this and he enthusiastically kisses him back. They kiss desperately as he fumbles with his door handle to get it open. When he succeeds, he walks them backward into his place not wanting to stop kissing Eddie, but stumbles and falls flat on his ass.

When Eddie turns on the light he sees Steve sprawled on top of a bunch of boxes full of old technology. A lot of emotions go through his face, ‘he’s so expressive’ Steve thinks a little enamored, having still not realized how much trouble he’s in.

But Eddie looks confused, then shocked and scared, and finally, angry,

"Steve, what the fuck?"

‘Oh, shit…’

“I can explain!” he says immediately, standing up and walking toward Eddie as he backs away,

“I didn’t want to ask you out-” Steve starts but interrupts himself when Eddie huffs, turns, and starts walking towards his own apartment, “Shit, fuck! No- That’s not what I meant, Eddie! Wait-”

He turns again and glares at Steve but then his eyes go wide, “Steve,”

“Please, let me explain-”

“Steve-”

“I did- do! Want to ask you out! I like yo-”

“Steve!” Eddie screams and Steve stops, shocked, and finally focuses. Eddie is staring at him and he’s so pale even his freckles have changed color. But no, wait. He’s not staring at him, he’s staring at his arm and Steve looks down to see… a lot of blood.

“Oh,” he says faintly. He must have cut himself on a sharp edge when he fell. Too worried about Eddie, he hadn’t even noticed the pain, but now that he’s seeing the cut, it fucking hurts.

“Oh,” he says again, realizing he’s feeling kind of dizzy, ‘that's way too much blood,’ he thinks.

“Jesus Christ!” Eddie huffs, takes off his flannel shirt and wrapping it around Steve's arm, he pulls Steve by his other hand toward his van.

“Oh no, your cute shirt,” he mumbles and hears Eddie snort before he slams the door of the passenger seat and goes to the driver’s one.

They go to the hospital in silence. It's tense. Steve tries to explain himself but Eddie shuts him up harshly, tells him to save his energy.

Even so, when they get there, Eddie still holds him gently by his good arm as he helps him inside. He tells the nurse what happened because Steve is having a hard time focusing right now and then tells him he’ll wait outside for him.

He gets stitches and a tetanus shot just in case because he doesn't remember when was the last time he got one and gets weird looks when he refuses painkillers, but no arguments. He’s given a little juice box and is told he can't get up until he finishes it.

A few seconds after the nurse leaves, the door opens and Eddie walks in. Steve looks up and smiles at him, but Eddie doesn’t smile back and Steve shrinks a little on himself.

Eddie sits on the chair facing the overbed table Steve is perched on and sighs, moving his hand in little circles motioning like, ‘Well go on. Explain yourself’

Steve looks around the room and thinks about where to start. He can't look Eddie in the eye, so he stares at the little juice box in his hands. It's got a cartoon orange in the front. The drawing it’s awful and kind of scary.

Taking a deep breath, he starts, “I've been watching your videos for a long time now. I have- I am- I-”

He fumbles for what to say, even if this date is already ruined…it's not exactly a good first date topic, is it? How fucked up he’s inside.

In a flash, images of his father’s violence, running from home with his mom, going to live with his nonno, taking care of him as he slowly lost his mind with age while his mom worked her ass off to feed them, getting cheated on, losing his “friends” because he didn't want to bully freshmen, working as a babysitter and getting almost beat up to death by his kid’s stepbrother… he shakes his head and shrugs,

“I've been through some…stuff” is what he says in the end, looking up at Eddie. He doesn't look mad anymore, his expressive eyes look concerned. Steve worries about what was it Eddie saw in his own expression, but it surprises him how easily he read him. He’s usually so good at hiding it. 

He breathes in again and keeps going, “Your videos, they calm me down when I've, sometimes I get anxious and-” he clears his throat, again, not wanting to tell Eddie about the panic attacks, the nightmares.

But it seems he doesn't have to, Eddie looks at him like he gets it.

It makes Steve want to keep talking, “Watching you work, seeing you fix things, leave them like new, no sca- marks, no problems, just working again and beautifully clean. It makes me feel better.” 

Eddie gives him a small smile and Steve returns it, “I really like your hands…” he blurts out and then closes his mouth quickly, blushing furiously.

Eddie’s eyes go wide and then he smirks and stands up slowly walking up to him and taking Steve’s hands on his own, they both stare at their joined hands for a while, the touch feather-like and soft.

“You recognized me because of my hands?” Eddie asks him a little incredulous.

Steve giggles, “I saw the logo for your channel on your studio that day I helped you with the boxes,” he clarifies sheepishly.

Eddie blushes and opens his mouth in a silent ‘oh,’

Steve draws small circles on Eddie's knuckles with his thumbs, “When I came over today, I was just trying to offer you those stuff at my place, they were my grandfather's” he explains, “I didn’t know how to say I knew who you were without looking like a weirdo and I got nervous and you thought I was going to ask you out and I wasn’t planning to but you are so beautiful I-

Eddie kisses his cheek and Steve shuts up and looks at him surprised,

“I’m sorry I freaked out,” Eddie says, “I thought- I don’t know what I thought- I was just upset you didn’t actually like me.” 

And Steve immediately answers, “I like you” a little too excitedly.

Eddie smiles at him so warmly it makes his heart rate pick up, “Good. I like you too.”

He blushes and looks down at their hands again unsure, “Do you really? Even tho I’m…”

“What?” Eddie asks, squeezing his hands reassuringly.

“Broken?” Steve whispers.

Eddie hums and drops his hands to hold his face, “Not broken, baby” he says lovingly and kisses the crease between Steve’s brows, the top of his eyelid, his nose, and the corner of his mouth. Then hugs him and Steve buries his face on Eddie's neck, and breathes him in.

A minute goes by or an hour, Steve is not sure, and Eddie leans back enough to kiss him again softly and whispers, “Some things don't need to be fixed Steve, just held.” 

𝒻𝒾𝓃

coffee? a hug? ☕🥐💕

[ginnsbaker]

Fic: Right Here, Right Now

Summary: Marrying the love of your life a second time around is definitely sweeter // An ILGOSS Oneshot.

Pairing: Wanda x Fem!Reader | Word count: 1.4k+ | Warnings: None...? does cheese count? | A/N: Did you miss me? Thank you to the anon who suggested this one-shot. This is set in the ILGOSS universe, but can be treated as an independent story about two divorced wives marrying each other again. This functions more like a drabble, think of it like a missing scene in the epilogue. Enjoy!

Masterlist

-

It's been a grueling twelve hours since you last saw Wanda, and you're practically climbing the walls. Your heart's doing this annoying jittery thing, and the more you try to calm down, the more agitated you become. This whole ‘not seeing the bride before the wedding’ tradition is driving you nuts.

Desperate, you send a text to Natasha. I need to see her, you say, barely keeping it together to type a full sentence. I can't wait till the aisle.

Your phone buzzes almost immediately with Natasha’s reply. On it!, she texts back, and you know she's cooking up some scheme. Relying on your best friend to create the perfect diversion feels like your only lifeline.

It only takes a few minutes when suddenly, an ear-splitting sound erupts from outside, jerking everyone's attention away from the primping and preening. Your eyes shoot wide—trust Natasha to choose something as dramatic as a fire or emergency hazard for a diversion. Part of you frets Wanda might be one of the first out there. Nevertheless, the plan works like a charm. Like clockwork, the room empties out, everyone drawn out by the allure of drama and a juicy story.

You’re half-curious about what kind of ruckus Natasha managed to come up with, but that thought vanishes instantly when you hear the other bedroom door open with a soft creak. A second later, a smile gradually spreads across your lips when you hear a set of footsteps, familiar to you as your own heartbeat. Rising carefully from your chair to avoid stepping on the hem of your pristine white dress, you make your way to the door as quickly as decorum allows.

As you reach the stairs, you spot your bride already making her way down. Seeing her, even with her back turned to you, takes your breath away and seals your fate of forever having your heart in Wanda’s captivity. It's hard to believe you managed to be with her the first time. Harder to think about how you almost lost her in your life for good, but here you are, feeling like the luckiest person in the world to have her back again for a second chance.

“Hey.”

Wanda turns at the sound of your voice, and her smile illuminates the space around her, outshining the sun's rays filtering through the windows. A gentle sea breeze teases her hair, softly framing her face. You stand frozen at the top of the stairs, unable to comprehend how everything you’ve both been through, led to this miraculous moment.

“Hi,” she greets in return, nodding towards the commotion outside. “Everybody rushed out. Could be an emergency.”

You shake your head and smile widely, teeth digging at your bottom lip, helpless as a blush taints both of your cheeks. Wanda looks absolutely stunning, and it's like you're suddenly back in college again, seeing her for the first time. You miss a step, almost causing you to fall flat on your face, just like you did back then.

“I…might have asked Nat’s help to get you alone,” you say with a sheepish grin. “I, uh, I wanted to do something. I-If you’re up for it.”

“Sounds serious,” Wanda teases, perching herself on the handrail. She arches an eyebrow, her eyes reflecting a desire that mirrors your own. It takes every ounce of your self-control, and then some, not to sweep Wanda into your arms and forget about the ceremony altogether. For several seconds, you're silent, prompting Wanda to reach out. Her fingers lightly brush against your arm, and that simple touch sends a pleasant shiver down your spine.

“What’s the plan?” she whispers, as if guarding a precious secret.

Without hesitation, as if the idea has been burning inside you your whole life, you blurt out, “Let’s get married.”

“You do remember we're getting married today, right?” Wanda says, barely hiding her amusement.

You nod, stepping closer to her. “Yeah, I know. But right here, right now, I want to marry you. Just us, committing to each other without anyone else around.”

Wanda's smile softens, and she steps closer. “Just us?” Her voice is soft, almost disbelieving.

You almost back out, feeling a bit silly. “Sounds a bit selfish, huh? Forget I said it—”

“No, don't,” she quickly says, grabbing your hand. “It's not selfish. It's actually really sweet, considering everything.”

You bite back the admission that this impromptu plan was born just minutes ago. Maybe the real reason couples are advised against seeing each other several hours before the ceremony is due to moments like this. Seeing Wanda in her dress, so beautiful, it's hard not to just marry her on the spot, forget the past, forget the plans. Moreso, there's something different about this second time. You're both older, wiser, each with a richer history that stretches far and beyond. It feels more layered, as if you've both fought harder for this moment than for anything else in your lives.

Taking another step down, you move closer to Wanda, holding her gaze. Your own dress trails behind you, its fabric whispering softly with each movement.

“We’re really doing this?” you ask.

“Getting a second shot at being your wife, especially after how badly I messed up… I never thought I’d get that chance again,” Wanda confesses, standing so close you can feel her breath. You tower a few inches over her, yet you feel utterly helpless under her spell.

“If it were up to me, I’d have dragged you to city hall the moment you said yes,” she adds. “But I wanted this moment to be perfect for you.”

And it is, you think to yourself. You almost take her face in your hands, but at the last minute, you decide against it, not wanting to ruin the meticulous work of those who spent hours making her look so stunning–efforts you deeply appreciate. Instead, you guide her hand to your chest, right over your heart, feeling its steady beat under her palm. A small, fragile thing, but it's filled with everything you feel for her.

“Wanda Maximoff, I take you to be my wife,” you swallow thickly, trying your best not to ruin your own make-up. “I am wholly and undeniably yours, and I promise to keep choosing you, every single day.”

You look into her eyes, and there's a whole universe in that gaze. “You're my love, my heart, my home. In this life, or the next. Today, I recommit my life to you, with all that I am and all that I have.”

For a few beats, everything goes quiet, allowing your words to truly sink in between the two of you. Then, you let out a breath you didn't realize you'd been holding, just as Wanda tries to catch hers.

“And I promise to be true to us, to what we have now,” she replies, her slender frame trembling slightly under the weight of her emotions. You swipe away a rogue tear that slips down her cheek, then kiss her forehead tenderly. Her promise clearly reflects on her past mistakes. Though you've forgiven her countless times, you understand the importance of her saying it out loud.

Taking both of your hands, Wanda looks up at you, her eyes shimmering and full of hope. “I promise to love you, to stay faithful to you, to be yours through and through. You're my heart, my soul, my everything—and I'm going to spend every day proving that to you.”

And with that, you feel every part of you intertwining with hers. You lean in and kiss her, soft and delicate. It's as natural as it's always been with Wanda, as if your lips remember what your minds might sometimes forget.

-

Later, just outside your childhood home, surrounded by your closest friends and family, you still cry when Wanda reads you her vows. She does the same when you call her “My wife”, and then again when you address her using your last name.

The reception, following immediately after the ceremony, officially concludes with the remainder of the fireworks that Natasha had launched prematurely earlier as part of her plan to create a distraction, allowing you to sneak in and have a moment alone with Wanda. You and Wanda spend the rest of the night barely taking your eyes off each other, basking in the presence of everyone you’ve ever loved.

If life has taught you one enduring lesson, it's that the most precious things are never easily won. And you and Wanda, you've proven time and again that you're cut out for exactly that— fighting against all odds, for the love that's worth every bit of the struggle.

[milfsloverblog]

Secret Benefits (NSFW)

Part 3 (previous part here)

Sugar mommy!Larissa Weems x Fem!Reader

A/N: Listen, you guys know me, I just had to include some angst in this. So, tiny bit of angst in this chapter, and these two idiots are still convinced that the other one doesn’t want them. OH!! You can see edits I made of Larissa’s outfit in this chapter here. Thank you for the enthusiasm you all show for this fic. Enjoy! <3

You were putting your shoes on when your phone buzzed with an incoming text from Larissa.

I’m here. Xx

She was right on time, of course she was.

You had arranged that she would pick you up from your place at 3, and you would spend the afternoon getting spoiled by her.

You took a last look in the mirror, wondering if you should have opted for a lighter lipstick, not that you had enough time to change it anyway.

Larissa had told you to wear something comfortable, but not too comfortable. “A blouse and some black pants will do just right,” she’d said, and you had sent her a picture of the few blouses you owned, letting her pick the one she wanted you to wear.

Your jaw dropped when you stepped out of your flat and caught Larissa standing by her car, slightly leaning on it. She wore a suit this time, a deep burgundy suit that perfectly matched her lipstick, with a white shirt underneath. Her hair had been let down from its usual intricate updo, her silver curls falling on her shoulders and framing her soft, pale face. She was a vision, truly, and it made you stop functioning for a moment.

“Hello, darling.” Larissa flashed you a smile when you finally reached her.

“Hi, Larissa.” You smiled back, getting on your tiptoe to place a kiss on her cheek, feeling one of her hands on your waist as you did so.

She wore flats this time, and you found that she wasn’t that tall without her heels. She was still tall, sure, but it was perfect. She was the perfect height. She was perfect.

“Hop inside, sweetling,” she said as she pulled the car door open for you, letting you get inside.

The ride wasn’t too long, it was spent with her hand on your thigh as you told her about your week and how you nearly had an argument with your coworker when you’d asked to take the day off, making Larissa chuckle a little.

-

“You said you’ve never been to a place like this, right?” Larissa asked as she pushed the door to the shop open and followed you inside.

“Yeah, it definitely is a first.” You nodded, looking around at the mannequins.

A small brunette quickly made her way over to the both of you, flashing Larissa a wide smile.

“Miss Weems,” she said. “I hope you’re doing well. Would you require some help with your shopping today?”

Larissa looked down at you before looking back at the assistant.

“Thank you, Clarice, but it won’t be necessary. I will let you know if we ever need some assistance.” Larissa smiled and the brunette nodded before going back to where she had appeared from.

“Come,” Larissa said, leading you through the shop. “I was thinking, since this is your first time, that I will let you choose the sets you’d like to try on. I will, however, still pick a couple of things I’d like to see you wearing.”

You gave a nod, happy at the prospect that you’d have some free rein while still being under Larissa’s control.

She walked with you around the shop, giving you advice on which fabric was the softest, which lingerie would be better suited to wear for a whole day and which one would be better for special occasions.

It was almost hypnotising, listening to her talking so passionately about colours and fabric, watching her fingertips brushing the different sets as she spoke.

Larissa chose three pieces for you to try on. A white lace body and a sage bra and panties set. You personally picked a burgundy set, something that matched her outfit, and a royal blue one.

The woman showed you the way to the changing room, helping you carry the pieces you were to try on.

“Let me know what you think of them, will you?” She asked.

You nodded and smiled before closing the curtain and taking a deep breath.

Right, you thought, time to try on some lingerie while the hottest woman alive is waiting right outside.

You took your time undressing and trying on the first set, the blue one. It looked nice, but it wasn’t what you had expected when choosing it.

“I tried the blue set on,” you told Larissa. “It’s beautiful, but not on me.”

Larissa’s eyebrows knitted. Not beautiful on you, what did that even mean? If only she could see you, see what you meant by “not on me”. But alas…

A couple of minutes went by without another word from you until you let out a frustrated groan.

“Larissa?” You called, getting a soft hum in answer. “I can’t close the button at the back all by myself, could you maybe…”

Larissa straightened her shoulders before pushing the curtain aside, just enough to slip herself inside the changing room.

You were trying on the white body she had picked for you, your hands desperately reaching back to close the button.

“Let me,” she said gently, her fingers brushing against the skin of your back as she buttoned the body shut.

Larissa took a step back once it was done, watching as you looked at yourself in the mirror. You felt a little unconscious as you spun on your heels to show her the result. She had picked this model, after all, you thought she’d like to see what it looked like on you.

The tall woman’s breath hitched as she watched you turn around. She had picked the perfect model for you.

“May I?” She asked, lifting her hand and reaching out when you nodded your approval.

“Here,” Larissa said, gently pulling on the lace that covered your left breast and making sure it lay flat against your skin.

Your eyes never left her face as she did so, not even when her fingers brushed against the swell of your left breast and made you shiver.

She looked beautiful, she looked passionate, but there was something else there too, hidden deep inside her blue eyes. Something more primal, something the lion felt when the antelope stepped too close to it.

“Beautiful,” Larissa whispered under her breath. “It’s a beautiful piece, I suggest you get this one. But the choice is all yours today, enjoy it while it lasts.” She winked and took a last up-and-down look at you before stepping out of the changing room.

Another moment went by where you let Larissa know that the sage set, as pretty as it was, simply wasn’t your colour.

You tried the burgundy set last, smiling as you looked at your reflection. It looked great on you, and the thought of wearing underwear that matched Larissa’s outfit was arousing in more ways than one.

You took a deep breath and brushed your fingertips on your breasts, closing your eyes as you imagined them to be someone else’s fingers.

Larissa walked back and forth in front of the closed curtain while you changed back into your clothes. She had managed to steady her heartbeat, taking a couple more deep breaths to fully relax herself.

She was about to take another step when she noticed that the curtain wasn’t properly closed. She didn’t think twice as she reached up and grabbed a handful of the velvety fabric to close it, only to unintentionally catch a glimpse of you inside the changing room.

If Larissa’s heartbeat had successfully steadied previously, it felt like it had completely stopped as her eyes landed on you. It only took less than a second for her brain to register what you were doing with one of your hands splayed on the wall while the other one busied itself between your legs.

Larissa held her breath, her mouth falling slightly open as she watched you. This was better than anything she had imagined when touching herself and thinking of you. She watched for what seemed to be hours, her eyes never leaving your face, wishing to memorise every single one of your expressions.

She wanted to see you climax, she craved to know the face you’d make as you’d reach your peak, if your knees would buckle and if you’d keep touching yourself to overstimulation.

Larissa, the little voice tugged at the back of her mind. Larissa, you shouldn’t. Larissa… Larissa!

The tall woman jumped and quickly shut the heavy curtain, her knuckles turning white as she kept tightly holding onto the fabric.

Larissa closed her eyes, her head hanging low as she let go of the curtain. She hated it. Not the fact that she had caught you masturbating, no. She hated the nagging feeling in her chest, one that she knew all too well.

She remembered feeling that nagging thing for the first time as a teenager when Morticia had started getting closer to Gomez and more distant from her.

That nagging feeling had grown and grown and grown until it had seeped through the cracks of Larissa’s heart and filled her whole body.

She hadn’t been able to properly control her shapeshifting abilities back then, and so she had woken up one day with her skin tinted a deep grassy green. She had hidden in her room for a couple of days, spending hours scrubbing at her skin in the shower only to burst into tears of frustration when nothing helped.

There was nothing she could do about it, Larissa had literally turned green with jealousy.

And she felt it again, as she took a step back from the changing room, that awful nagging pull in her heart.

She was buying you lingerie, beautiful silk and lace that you would wear for someone else. For the person you were thinking about right then with your hand between your legs, the one who would get to peel those expensive pieces off your body.

And it made Larissa sick with envy. She was sure that hadn’t she been able to control herself, she would have turned green again.

If she only had watched you for a moment longer, Larissa would have caught her name slipping from your mouth barely audibly as your thighs clenched around your hand, a strong orgasm washing over you.

It took you a few minutes to fully get down from your high, your cheeks burning in embarrassment as you realised what you had done. Anyone could have caught you. A shop assistant, a customer, Larissa. That last thought made you shiver, you would have died on the spot if the older woman had caught you masturbating.

You quickly got dressed and picked two sets from the ones you had tried on, the burgundy one that matched Larissa’s suit and the white one she seemed to have loved on you.

“Larissa,” you said as you walked out of the changing room carrying the lingerie.

The woman looked up and you could immediately tell that something had happened. She did push a smile, but it wasn’t quite right, it didn’t reach her eyes like it usually did.

“Did you make your choice, darling?” She asked, looking at the pieces in your hands.

“Yes, yes. I like these the most.” You raised your right hand to show her the ones you’d want to keep, earning a nod from the older woman.

“Larissa, is everything alright? You seem a bit-“ your question was interrupted by the same shop assistant from earlier asking you if you had found anything to your liking. You showed her the sets you’d like to keep and handed them to her so she could take them to the till.

Larissa’s hand fell on the small of your back and she guided you to follow the shop assistant. She was quiet, awfully quiet as she pulled her Visa card from her handbag and paid for your items. And still awfully quiet as you both walked out of the shop and back towards her car.

She took the bag from your hand and placed it in the trunk of her car before opening the passenger door for you, only closing it once you were comfortably seated.

You didn’t know what it was exactly, but you could feel the bad energy oozing from Larissa as she sat down by your side. Something had happened, that much was clear, and you feared it was somehow your fault.

A few minutes passed where both of you remained silent, Larissa’s eyes never leaving the road. She stopped at a traffic light and your gaze fell on her hand holding the gear lever, noticing the death grip that she had on it.

“Larissa,” you whispered, your fingers gently wrapping around hers on the lever. The small gesture seemed to be enough to snap the woman out of her trance, her head turning so she could look at you.

“I’m sorry, darling. I’ve lost myself in my thoughts again.” She pushed a small smile, one that looked more sincere than the previous one. “Did you have fun today?”

“I did, I enjoyed every second of it,” you said sincerely, your thumb gently brushing her fingers. “And I don’t want it to end now.” You admitted.

Larissa looked at you for a moment, her sapphire eyes boring into yours.

Is that really all there is to it? She wanted to ask. Are you just company to me and am I just easy money to you?

“We’ll have dinner,” she said, looking back to the road when the light turned green.

“Dinner sounds perfect. Where are you taking me?”

“The Paragon.” She answered without thinking twice.

You noticed the quick look she gave to your outfit, making you shuffle in your seat.

“If my outfit isn’t appropriate for the place you’re taking me to, we could drop by my house and I’ll wear the dress you bought for our first date.”

Date, the word echoed through Larissa’s mind.

“Get in the backseat,” Larissa said, a little authoritatively almost like a teacher would.

“Sorry?” You shook your head, watching as she parked the car.

“Get in the backseat, there’s a shopping bag. Something I bought for you a few days ago and wanted to make you wear on our next…rendezvous.” She explained.

You gave a quick nod and stepped out of the car to quickly get in the backseat.

“Vivienne Westwood?” You raised an eyebrow. Even someone who didn’t know much about fashion would know about Vivienne Westwood.

“Yes, she used to be one of my favourites when I was younger,” Larissa said, turning the engine back on to drive away. “But I’ve become more reasonable now.”

You opened the bag and pulled out the piece of clothing, a long black dress with long sleeves and white patterns.

“It should fit with your flats.” She said, looking at you in the rear-view mirror.

“I absolutely love it, thank you, Larissa.” You smiled and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze, earning yourself a smile from the woman.

“Get changed,” she said. “We’ll be at the restaurant in about twenty minutes.”

“Here?” You frowned.

“Well, yes, here.” Larissa chuckled as if it was the most evident thing ever. “The windows are tinted, no one can see you from the outside.”

But you can, you thought.

“I won’t look.” She added as if she could read your mind.

You stayed still for a moment but eventually gave a nod before starting to unbutton your blouse.

Larissa kept her eyes on the road as much as she possibly could, her knuckles once again turning white as she gripped the steering wheel. She could see you peeling off your clothes in the rear-view mirror from the corner of her eyes. She had to refrain from stealing a few glances, biting onto the inside of her cheeks to keep herself focused.

“Your underwear too,” Larissa said, a little too strictly which made you jump.

“I thought you weren’t looking!”

“And I’m not. But the bag is in the trunk, so I know you haven’t changed that. Pull on the middle seat and reach for the bag. I want you to wear the burgundy one.”

“Oh, wanting to match?” You teased a little, pulling on the middle seat once you had gotten rid of your bra and panties.

Larissa allowed herself one glance then, only one. She was greeted by the expanse of your naked back flexing as your arm reached inside the trunk for the shopping bag.

Her eyes snapped back to the road when you straightened up, but not before she could catch a glimpse of your side boob, her tongue instinctively darting out to wet her lips.

“You can look now,” you said once you had put the lingerie on. It wasn’t anything that Larissa hadn’t already seen.

Larissa waited a short moment before looking in the mirror, not wanting to appear too eager to watch you.

You put the dress on, muttering under your breath as you struggled with the zipper for a moment, making Larissa chuckle softly.

“We’ve arrived,” she said, parking the car in front of the restaurant just as you managed to zip the dress up.

Larissa stepped out of the car and opened the back door, offering you her hand to help you out of the car which you gladly took.

“You look beautiful,” she said, looking you up and down. “It suits you. I thought it might be a bit too long, but it’s perfect.”

“You look beautiful too,” You said, squeezing Larissa’s hand.

The older woman looked taken aback by the compliment, so much so that it made you wonder if it was a rare occurrence for her.

“You do!” You reassured her, grinning from ear to ear. “Thank you for the dress and the lingerie. I’ll wear it thinking of you.”

Larissa's body moved automatically, her hand cupping your cheek as she stepped forward, trapping you between the car and herself.

I’ll wear it thinking of you, your voice sounded in her head. Do you have any idea what you do to me, she wanted to ask. Do you have any idea what you do to me?

“Larissa,” you whispered, taking hold of the hand that was cupping your cheek and kissing its palm, successfully snapping your companion out of her thoughts. The heat emanating from her body mixed with her perfume was unbearable, you needed her to step away before you did something you would regret.

“I’m sorry, sweetling,” she said, taking a step back and pulling her hand away from you.

Your chest was heaving up and down, Larissa noticed. Had she scared you? She hoped she hadn’t. She needed to get a grip on herself and control those…urges.

She doesn’t want you, told the little voice at the back of her mind. Stick that in your brain, Larissa. She doesn’t want you like that.

And she tried, Larissa really tried to get that into her brain. But as you walked inside the restaurant together and you slipped your hand in hers, letting your fingers interlace, she couldn’t help but wonder - what if?

————————————————————————

Taglist: @raspburrythief @weemssapphic @readingtheentrails @larissaoftarthweems @principal-weems09 @kimiinou @winterfireblond @im-a-carnivorous-plant @geekyarmorel @h-doodles @azu-zu @barbarasstar @witchesmortuary @vigelvictoria @m1lflov3rrr @dumbasslesbi @crow-raven-crow @fridays-coven @lilfartbox1 @shawncantwrite @autumn-leaves-chasing-breeze @gwens0girl @aemilia19 @the-bagel24 @lvinhs @thefutureisus2020 @gela123 @a-queen-and-her-throne @rando-mango @wheresmyboo @my-silver-spring @hillary-nicks @ablsk @natasha29romanoff @tallvampirelady12 @canyoufeelmyheartsayinghi @moonyboyjay @i-love-nerdy-stuff @1-800-milfdilf @musicallovinggal @scarlettssub @jasperobsidian-blog @i-write-sometimes-maybe @brienne-the-brave @slytherinthepms @non-binary-frogking @wife-of-gwendolinechristie @anjo-iludidoefudido @imnotafruitt @opheliauniverse

[patacrepe-san]

Vaggie Carmine AU part. 1

Okay, I’ve got a lot to get through and not a lot of time so here it goes.

Right after the extermination, Clara and Odette are scouring through the streets, retrieving angelic weapons from sinner’s corpses.

In a back alley, the two sisters stumble upon an unconscious girl clad in Exorcist’s gear, missing an eye and bathing in her own golden blood.

They are puzzled by the sight, not understanding why this angel was left in hell nor how did she get hurt.

They contemplate leaving her like this, but after thinking it through the sisters ultimately decide to make it their mother’s problem and bring Vaggie back to the compound.

Having been in the weapon dealing business for a few cycles, Carmilla is no stranger to unexpected complications. Yet, even she does not know how she’s supposed to react to her daughters bringing back an angel with multiple mortal injuries to her doorstep.

While tending to her wounds, Carmilla notices how messy and bloody the base of Vaggie’s wings are. Whoever tore off this girl’s wings, they clearly enjoyed taking their time doing it.

When she wakes up, Vaggie is confused to see that her injuries have been treated, and she was definitely sure that she lost consciousness in a street and not inside a lavish apartment…

And her ponderings stop when she notices the demon standing in the room, observing her with a cold gaze.

She wants to flee, but she is still way too weak from her injuries and fall flat on the floor as soon as she tries to stand up.

Carmilla makes Vaggie sit on a chair before her desk and boy she has questions!

Vaggie avoids giving too much information, answering Carmilla with short answers like “Yes” or “No”, both out of distrust of the overlord and of lingering loyalty towards Heaven.

Still, Vaggie lets it slip that she can’t go back to Heaven.

Carmilla can feel a headache as she thinks about the situation. If the angel is left alone in hell, she’d forever be a potential threat for all of Hell.

And should an overlord manage to make a deal with her, they’d gain an invincible soldier at their disposal.

After weighing the pros and cons for a few minutes, Carmilla comes up to Vaggie with an ultimatum.

“You have two paths in front of you. The first one, the easy one, is where I kill you here and now. A swift shot through the head with one of my angelic weapons, it will be quick and painless for you. Or you can choose the painful one, and make a deal with me.”

Carmilla snaps her fingers, and a golden contract appears before her.

Carmilla will keep Vaggie’s true nature secret, and provide her with shelter and food for as long as she stays in hell. In exchange, Vaggie will have to work for her and will not be able to go against Carmilla’s commands. Those are the terms of the deal.

Vaggie knows better than making a deal with a demon, but what choice does she have? She picks up the pen.

So at this point Vaggie and Carmilla aren’t exactly fond of each other. They’ll be family one day, but it’ll get worse before it gets better though.

[dewdropdinosaur]

Falling for You Part 2

VOX x READER

Part One

Summary: After the incident, you can't stop thinking about Vox. Little did you know, he can't stop thinking about you either.

Warnings: NONE. More sassy narrator :0

This was a request for the wonderful @mcueveryday. Enjoy my lovely!

REQUESTS ARE OPEN! See pinned post for details.

About a week had passed since what you were referring to as the “incident”. AKA, falling less than gracefully into Vox’s arms and practically making a fool of yourself. Everything had gone back to normal, at least it seemed to. You still did your heavy workload, still hung around Vox every day and late into the night, still drank over 400 mgs of coffee which you knew you should probably stop doing. In fact, the caffeine was probably the reason you were so anxious about the message you just got. 

‘Meet me in my office at 6 pm - V’ 

That was it. You were doomed. Vox was gonna fire you or worse…find out you have feelings for him. Gripping your head in your hands, you lay down on the flat of your desk and let out a heavy sigh. ‘Put on a game face, just get it over with’ repeats over and over. The monitor of your computer reads ‘5:55 PM’. It has been different lately, with Vox, despite the routine returning. As if toeing that line of flirty and professional had become obsolete, a taboo. Never to happen again. You could hardly look at him anymore without remembering the feeling of his warm hands on your waist, how his figure vibrated with a soft static that could’ve(and almost) lulled you into a sense of security and peace that just felt right. 

It felt right to Vox too. Him…Vox.. the charismatic and intellectual news anchor of Hell's 24/7 news channel ‘666’, had found himself caught in a web of emotions. He was the embodiment of chaos and cunning, but deep within the gears of his mechanical heart, there was a longing for something more.

You were definitely a force to be reckoned with. Smart, sassy, and absolutely unimpressed by Vox's grandeur, you had managed to keep him in check. You had been by his side for years, witnessing every outlandish broadcast, every flashy promotion, and every whirlwind scandal Vox was involved in. Yet, behind the scenes, an unspoken connection brewed.Vox couldn't quite put his finger on when his feelings for you had shifted from professional camaraderie to something more profound. Perhaps it was the way you effortlessly handled his chaotic demands, or maybe it was the subtle smiles you shared during stressful moments. Nevertheless, Vox found himself captivated by your fiery personality. 

Then again, you too, were not immune to the magnetic pull Vox exerted. Admiring his flamboyance, his cunning charm, and the way he managed to always stay one step ahead in the cutthroat world of Hell's media. It was a guilty pleasure, one you dared not confess, let alone to Vox. Hell, you hadn't even written it down in your journal for fear of being discovered. 

Vox, normally unfazed by such situations, felt a peculiar nervousness creeping up within him. Sure, he had flings and scandals, nothing a little media and personality couldn’t fix; the man had base and carnal needs after all. But..this…this was different. You were different. 

As six pm approached, you cautiously entered his office with your usual charm to conceal your nerves(a clever ploy dear, I wonder how long that will last). 

"Need any help, boss?" you smirked, usual confidence masking the subtle vulnerability that lurked beneath. 

Vox spun his chair to face you, a smirk gracing his features. Both of you were playing this unspoken game of cat and mouse…who would talk about it first?

"You know, Y/N, I've been thinking," he began, his voice surprisingly soft.

"I've been dancing around this for far too long and I think I have come to a conclusion.” Vox rising from his chair, strode over to you and hovering over your figure. Your eyes widened, and for a moment, the usual demeanor was at a loss. In that vulnerable moment, Vox and your eyes meet, and for the first time, the depth of emotion reflected in each other's gaze. The tension between you crackled, igniting a spark that neither could ignore. Both smirks and facades fell and crashed. 

With trembling hands, Vox reached out to caress your cheek, his heart pounding with anticipation. Breath caught in your throat as you leaned into his touch, both of your desires laid bare for each other to see.In a bold move fueled by years of pent-up longing, Vox closed the distance between them, pressing his lips to yours in a fervent kiss. Time seemed to stand still as they lost themselves in the intoxicating embrace, passion ignited like wildfire.

Removing himself slowly, a genuine smile played on your lips as you felt your knees buckle a little. Holding onto Vox for support, he grabs both your hands and helps you up. 

Vox chuckled, relief washing over him. "There you go again, falling for me darling.” 

“That’s what you go with, you egotistical bastard?," you teased.

With a shared laugh, the tension between them dissolved and in that moment, Hell seemed to stand still. 

“Took you long enough you know?

“Y/N, you know better than anyone not to rush me.”

“And you know better than anyone that I run a tight ship! So do remember next time you wish to kiss me, that you might wanna schedule it because damn it Vox! I have been stressing about liking you for centuries!”

“You and every other woman in Hell.”

“Vox…”

“I know, I know. Trust me darling, I have only fallen for you. Or…rather you for me—twice.” 

“I hate you, you know that right?”

“On the contrary, you quite like me dear.” The charismatic news anchor and his fearless assistant leaned in, lips meeting in another kiss that felt like an eternity in the making. Turns out you didn’t have much to worry about after all. Still, you do need to lay off the caffeine dear. It's not good for your heart.(Neither is going a few rounds on your bosses desk with your boss but that is a...ahem...long story for another time)

[suna-cerely-yours]

warnings: suggestive, fem!bodied reader

“yeah just come in, ‘tsumu shouldn’t be home for a while- we’ll actually have some peace ‘n quiet for once.”

laughing, you slip past osamu and into the twins’ shared apartment. it’s a cozy place, clearly well lived in.

“can i get ya somethin’ to drink? i have some leftover rice, i can make ya food too, if ya want.”

“osamu i’m literally here to work on a project, i’m not going to make you cook for me.”

rubbing the back of his neck, he shrugs. “ ‘s not a big deal, i wouldn’t mind cookin’ for ya.”

shaking your head, you move towards the hallway with two doors side by side, “that’s very sweet of you, maybe once we get some work done we can do something for snacks?”

“sure, that works.”

moving ahead he opens the second door, revealing a neat bed pushed against a wall, opposite to a desk. he gestures for you to sit on his bed while he pulls the desk chair closer, taking a seat.

the pair of you have only been working for a solid twenty minutes when you hear the front door slam.

osamu immediately sighs, scrubbing a hand down his face.

“he was supposed to be at practice for another hour, but looks like luck is not on our side today.”

before osamu can continue, there’s a dull thud in the hallway and the door to atsumu’s room is opened and shut- hastily from the sound of it.

he shakes his head again, getting up.

“just a minute, i’ll tell him to keep it dow-”

a loud, distinctly female moan interrupts him, followed by a drawn out cry of ‘atsumu’.

your mouth falls open as osamu stares at you in horror.

“he’s not, no way, that fucker did not”.

more whimpers and moans fill the silence, the woman clearly enjoying himself. you and osamu merely stare at each other, when the unmistakable sound of the bedframe banging against the wall starts.

osamu cracks his knuckles, “ i’m goin’ to kill him, i’ll finally live out my dream of bein’ a single child, that’s it-”

“wait wait wait osamu, has this happened before?”

you get off the bed, grabbing his arm,” oh my gosh, has this really happened before?”

worrying his lower lip between his teeth he shrugs, “like a couple of times, maybe? i usually high-tail it outta here once it starts.”

“well, that’s kinda rude.”

he snorts, “have ya met atsumu? he’s the definition of rude.”

“you know,” you start, trying to hide a smile, ”we could get back at him.”

he looks at you questioningly, eyebrows raised, “yeah? go on.”

“we could give him a taste of his own medicine, like uh,” tugging slightly on his arm, you pull him towards the shared wall.

keeping your eyes fixed on osamu, you moan, loud enough for the sound to carry over to the next room. the banging doesn’t stop, but osamu freezes, mouth parting. pressing your lips together you nod slowly at him, and he swallows, adam’s apple bobbing- before returning your nod.

letting a smile split your face, you let go of his arm and jump on his bed.

“osamu, just like that mhm-”

the banging stutters.

pressing two fingers against your own tongue, you moan again, “ ‘samu please.”

the banging and moaning comes to a stop, your target is clearly engaged.

osamu still stands, gaze fixed heavily on you, hands clenched.

you flutter your hand, asking him to move closer.

“osamu, you have to do it too,” you whisper.

alarm fills his eyes as he bites down on his lip. you raise your eyebrows expectantly.

looking around once, he steps closer, knees touching the bed, before groaning, the sound just a little too artificial. however it seems to have done the trick as you hear atsumu’s low what the fuck.

“you think you can make the bed shake too? or is that something only mr hotshot athlete over there can do?”

rolling his eyes, he moves on the bed and has you flat on your back, him hovering over you.

“i was a hotshot athlete too ya know.”

and that’s the only warning you get before he’s moving, rocking his hips over yours, hard enough for the bed frame to hit against the wall.

mirth fills you as you realize, and you’re moaning again, moans punctured with whimpers and drawn out cries of his name. you’d have to be daft to not know what was going on.

too caught up in each other, you fail to hear the front door slam.

dissolving into giggles, you wrap your arms around his neck and he drops his full weight on you, muffling his laughter.

“my idiot brother’s probably never made a girl actually come, so he couldn’t even make out the difference.”

“i’m not usually that loud either.”

you feel his lips curl into a smile against your neck, before he’s balancing himself over you again, eyes locked with yours.

“i bet i could get you to moan louder.”

dragging your tongue over your lower lip, you tilt your head.

“oh yeah? prove it then.”

[rosiesmuts]

Jingle All the Way

BLACKPINK Lisa 1,600 words

A/N: Blame @friskyriskywhisky​ for this by sending me this as an ask. Quickie, no edits

"Hi Oppa! Long time no fuck!" 

A pleased smile breaks across your face. Lisa emerges from her bedroom, and granted your Christmas wish--watching her dance in that outfit at the concert drove you wild. 

"I've missed that ass Lisa. It's been way too long."

"Oh? You mean this little ol thing?"

Lisa turns around, twerking her way over to the couch, the metal plates jingling all the way. She's right in front of you, untying a couple pieces of string. Her hips continue to twerk until each piece of clothing falls off her body, the sound of crashing metal hits the floor.

Her hips are unstoppable, her back turned to you, sliding the underside of your cock in between her cheeks.

"This is fun and all, but it's been WAY too long Oppa. We both know why we're here."

She reaches behind, lathering your cock in slick lubrication while two of your fingers do the same to her puckering hole. The prep work now completed, her right hand holding the base of your shaft while your two hands are spreading apart her cheeks. Her moans of pleasure and pain ring into your ears the moment your head breaches her tight hole. 

"Oppa, did you somehow get bigger?!" Lisa pauses, catching her breath.

"It's just your imagination Lisa." A quick slap of her ass is all the motivation she needs.

Lisa bites her lip, lowering her body more and more–tears rolling down her face with every additional inch she takes in. Finally all the way down, she starts slowly making circular motions with her hips.

"Let me get used to this thing again."

Two minutes go by, then Lisa braces herself. She starts off slow, picking up speed with each successive bounce. You grit your teeth, simply along for the ride, Lisa using you for her pleasure.

Lisa is clearly enjoying herself, two months of your cock separated from her most precious hole was definitely too long. Her asshole is now fully adjusted to your length, Lisa humming the tune to her song.

"BOUNCIN BOUNCIN ON MY ASS TONIGHT!" Lisa belts out as she gets to that part of the song in her head, even having the energy to giggle at her own silly ad-lib.

The same story can't be said for you–the tight squeeze of her constricting muscles as she bounces up and down causes a groan to leave your mouth. Your hands grip her waist, trail around to her tight midriff, then slowly inch their way up–taking in the sensation of her smooth skin along the way. Finally reaching their destination, her adorable flat chest, you use two fingers on each hand to harshly pinch and pull at her nipples.

She screams out and moans, this reaction laughably predictable, Lisa's brain always translating pain into pleasure.

"Don't think I forgot what you did to me on your birthday, Oppa." Lisa threatens, purposely flexing her muscles, her asshole now squeezing you tighter than you thought was even possible.

"Ah! Okay stop! I'm sorry!"

Lisa laughs at your pathetic begging. She bounces up to feet, a slight feeling of desperation washes over you when your cock leaves the comfort of her tight asshole. You didn't mean for her to literally stop, but that desperation is quickly washed away when she bends over the couch.

"My legs are getting tired. It's your turn to fuck me Oppa." 

A needed break for another application of lubrication and you find yourself behind Lisa, leaning in close to whisper in her ear. "Are you ready?" Lisa silently nods and you're off to the races. Your thrusts start off strong, going in and out without needing to worry if she could take you all in.

Lisa is crying in pleasure, but still occasionally slips in comical dirty phrases trying to make you laugh. "... Pound my ass like it owes you money." being the most memorable. This is what makes fucking Lisa so enjoyable. She doesn't take herself too seriously, and she knows exactly what she wants–in her case, it's always your cock stuffed deep inside her ass. 

Lisa's body bends forward, burying her face even deeper into the cushions; perking her ass up even higher. Your length is able to poke and prod even deeper than ever, her moans now muffled by pillows. Noticing her right hand making circular motions against her clit, your thrusts maintain the same tempo, knowing this was her sweet spot. 

Her entire upper body tenses up, her left leg starts to quiver. A yank of her shoulder in an attempt to hear her cum is proven to be the correct choice, "You fuck me like a god oppa!" Lisa cries out as her orgasm flows throughout her body. Your thrusts slow down, not wanting to overwhelm her, but not stopping, still in pursuit of your own release.

"Let me go back on top. It's been too long since the last time I've been fucked like this. I need to be in control." 

Another needed lube break, and despite being exhausted, Lisa is never one to be a greedy lover. She's back in control, happily bouncing up and down, doing her favorite activity. 

Lisa was supposed to be doing this for your sake, but she couldn't control herself. You've seen it enough times to recognize the patterns–her breath becomes labored in a certain pattern, she stops her signature dirty talk and just simply moans. You can tell she's trying to hold it in, trying to consider your needs before hers. You appreciate the gesture, but seeing her cum is quickly becoming one of your favorite past times.

Your hand wraps around, middle and ring finger burying deep inside while your thumb circles her sensitive clit. The pleasure is too intense, Lisa stops bouncing and simply melts into your body. You take over, thrusting your cock upwards into her ass while your hand fiddles around in the front–Lisa is quickly overwhelmed, feeling pleasure from both ends.

"It's okay Lisa, just let go, cum for me." Just the slightest suggestion is all it takes. She releases her pent up orgasm, this one more intense than the last, her entire body tensing up. This also included her ass, the tight squeeze meant you're soon to follow her lead. Lisa feels the twitch of your dick, "Just do it inside." she's barely able to whisper it out. Those were wasted words, you never had plans to finish elsewhere, immediately succumbing to the grip of her ass, making no attempt to hold back.

Lisa feels at least five different spurts of thick hot cum filling up her ass, lightly moaning at each one. Lisa is beyond satisfied, remaining leaned back into your chest; your cock left deep in her ass.

"Can you still go?" Lisa asks you sweetly in between her heaving breath.

"I can still go if you can. Are you sure though? You look exhausted."

Lisa surprisingly shakes her head and picks up her phone from the side table to send out a text. Not even 10 seconds later, a knock is heard on the door. Lisa gets up, your cock finally leaving the warm comfort of her ass, making no effort to get dressed, or more importantly, to stop the stream of cum dripping onto the marble floor.

After answering the door, she returns to the couch, but she's not alone. "I heard this living sex doll talked you into fucking her while we were away." Lisa has one hand wrapped around a leash, leading in another person on the other end. Somi stands next to Lisa, her completely nude body glistening with a thick layer of oil, wearing only a collar around her neck that reads ‘Free Use.’ 

“What are you, Somi?” Lisa asks, her voice laced with pink venom.

“A free use cum dump for Oppa.”

"Good girl, now go ahead, show him what I taught you." Lisa harshly smacks Somi's ass.

"Do you want to fuck my ass, Oppa? Don’t worry - I can take it!” tilting her head, attempting to imitate the signature sickeningly cute aegyo voice of Lisa. 

Lisa claps and cheers at the eerily similar impersonation. 

Lisa maneuvers behind Somi, using both hands to cup and fondle Somi’s chest. “God these fucking tits are amazing.” Lisa mindlessly kneads the heavy mounds while looking at you. “I don’t blame you–feeling these in my hands makes me wanna fuck her too. What do you say, Oppa? I have some toys so I can test the limits of this free use whore with you."

[ingravinoveritas]

(Note that @angelsadvocate96 also included a screenshot of AL's post, which I am omitting here since we have two already.)

I did see this Insta story yesterday, and again...wow. Before I go any further, I want to be clear that my issue with this has nothing to do with it being "inappropriate" (depending on your definition, of course). I am by no means a prude, and it is not and should not be shocking that Michael and AL have had sex. We know this, and we have proof of this, so that is not a big thing. I do, however, think it is interesting that just a few days ago, we had Michael being David's "boyfriend" and now here's AL seemingly marking her territory again. So that makes me wonder what has suddenly changed.

Also, as angelsadvocate96 mentioned, this does indeed seem to be a Georgia-style brag...but it falls flat. It doesn't help that "sleep next to" is just a really weird turn of phrase, and could as easily mean AL and Michael's beds are next to each other (a la every 1950s TV sitcom) as it does that they're sleeping in the same bed. It also stops short of being overtly sexual (because she didn't say "sleep with"), and so ends up in that weird place of trying to be scandalous, yet also not. But when you have Georgia out here five years ago talking about how much she and David enjoy anal sex and possibly her pegging him, Anna's "innuendos" just seem completely tepid in comparison.

The other thing that stood out to me is the mention of Ian McKellen, the #lifegoals hashtag, and Anna seemingly bragging about the fact that one of the most important parts of her relationship with Michael is meeting celebrities. We knew this already from the Dolittle premiere and the now-infamous picture of her meeting Rami Malek, as well as the fact that she follows many of Michael's co-stars and other famous figures connected to him on social media, and has had a history of replying primarily to comments from those people, to the exclusion of most everyone else. But I'm genuinely confused as to why you would ever want to give that impression of your relationship, especially on a post that's supposed to be promoting a TV appearance of his.

Her post also made me wonder how aware Anna really is of Sir Ian or his work, as I wasn't sure I could see her being a big fan of his...until I realized she shared this post from her and Michael's PR person (@dobbscld). The OP mentioned Sir Ian specifically, and knowing that, it suddenly all made sense. But it also struck me that, rather than make a post or story of her own to promote Michael, AL shared a post from PR...and once again made a post about Michael into a post about herself. Just as we've seen before.

Honestly, I don't think I would even mind this post or similar posts AL has made that much if it felt like Michael was even remotely a part of it. But it's the very fact that he never talks about her or their relationship (and not in a "he's a private person" kind of way) that makes it so awkward. And here he was going on Graham Norton to promote his directorial debut--a project that is hugely important to him--and Anna just brings it down to the most base level, making it seem like she does not take Michael or his work seriously. And I can't think of anything more embarrassing than that.

So yes, that was my reaction to AL's Insta story yesterday. Again, this is just my perspective, and I'm glad to hear from folks in the comments on this post with their thoughts. Thanks for writing in! x

[spacebarbarianweird]

Temperance

Synopsis: Tiriel has body image issues after giving birth, and Astarion is just too eager on having sex with his beautiful wife once again.

Thanks @tragedybunny for beta-reading!

Tags: smut, vaginal sex, praise kink, post-partum body image

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Astarion puts away the book and looks in the cradle. His baby girl is sound asleep, her pointy ears twitching like the ones of a kitten.

He still can’t believe it’s all real, though, he’s had  three months to accept it. A tiny newborn who he still hopes won’t be a dhampir requires all the time he and Tiriel have.

Astarion doesn’t mind. If anything, he enjoys being a father.

He touches Alethaine’s digits. One day, she will grow up and become a beautiful Elven woman. What voice will she have? What face features? Will she look more like him or more like her mother? Or maybe he will see some unfamiliar features in her - Tiriel’s Elven ancestors or his own?

The vampire hears soft steps from the bathroom - Tiriel finished washing herself. Astarion would have loved to join, but someone has had to keep an eye on the baby.

He leaves the nursery and leaves the door half open.

“Our little princess can fall asleep only if I read her Elven fairy tales. She definitely has standards!”

Tiriel doesn’t respond. She is naked, drops of water still on her body.

And the Half-Elven warrior is absolutely stunning.

Her breasts got bigger during pregnancy, and Astarion hopes they will stay like that even when she stops breastfeeding. Freckles dance all over her skin, a gift from her ancestors, the human clans of the Sunset Mountains.

Her stomach is no longer flat, and he feels an unstoppable desire to touch those soft folds of skin. There are stretch marks in the lower part and on her thighs, long white lines resembling lighting.

Astarion feels like his trousers tighten between his legs.

Well, one year of celibacy is a form of torture.

“Tell me the truth. Do I look disgusting?” Tiriel asks. That’s when he realizes she looks miserable. Many years ago, at the beginning of their relationship, she had this same facial expression when people pointed at her mixed ancestry. Both elves and humans.

“What are you talking about?”

“I look in the mirror and don’t recognize myself. While I was pregnant, it was one thing, but now... Fuck. It’s just as if my body is all distorted.”

“Your body is a fucking miracle that gave me my precious treasure of a child. Don’t you dare speak ill of it.”

“Just look at me!”

“I am looking at you.”

Drops of milk drip from her swollen nipples.

The tightness in his pants becomes unbearable.

Gods, if he doesn’t put his cock inside Tiriel, he will cum in his pants

Astarion pushes Tiriel to the bed, and, before she manages to object, he gets rid of his shirt and unlaces the front of his trousers.

He hovers above his wife and presses his lips against hers, kissing  her desperately, hungrily. Tiriel grabs his shoulders, pulling him closer to her - she is strong, his fierce wife.

He pulls away a bit and there is a thin strand of saliva connecting them. Astarion recognizes the fire in Tiriel’s eyes -  all too familiar. Desire. Pure and honest, the desire of a woman who was never ashamed of her nature.

Astarion goes down to her breasts. He sucks her left nipple, tasting the essence with his tongue. Then, the other. Tiriel moans and grabs his hair which makes him groan.

He keeps tracing his kisses -her  stomach feels so warm and so soft, like a pillow. So much better than it used to be.

Astarion gets on his knees and grabs Tiriel’s hips to put her bottom on his lap. Now when her legs are spread he can see the vulva in all its glorious details.

“Did it change?” Tiriel asks.

He touches her clit making Tiriel whimper. Her whole body, busy with growing a child inside, was missing Astarion.

“It did. A bit” he says, studying her womanhood.

“I knew it” Tiriel sounds disappointed.

Astarion sticks his finger inside, feeling the familiar wetness.

“Your pussy is a fucking temple which is fit for both lovemaking and birthing children. Don’t desecrate it with your curses.”

He finally manages to get rid of his trousers and with no further hesitation sticks his cock inside.

“F-fuck” he groans feeling the walls tightening around him.

Tiriel pulls him to her and kisses him. Her legs wrap around his torso pressing his lower part to her.

“Does it feel the same?” she asks, her eyes half-lidded,

“It feels better. Much… better…”

He thrusts harder and harder, making Tiriel whimper helplessly. Her nipples drool with milk and her clean body is sticky with sweat.

Tiriel presses him to herself, piercing his back with her nails. Her breath is as hot as the campfire, and her kisses make him insane.

Astarion wishes to prolong this pleasure but his body doesn’t obey. He cums with a low groan, feeling his release coating his cock.

Tiriel grabs a handful of his hair and makes him kiss her.

Afterwards, he lies beside her, wrapping his hands around her chest.

“You know” she pants. “If you were drunk on blood right now, I would already be pregnant. My cycle has been restored recently.”

“Hm, give me time to go to the woods. I will return and fuck another child into you.”

She laughs. “No, let’s wait another twenty years. Once Alethaine is an adult, you can fuck her brother inside me.”

“A sister. Another girl,” he corrects.

“I thought the second baby must be a boy?”

“Nah, I want to have daughters. Sons are boring.”

“I think most of the men in this world would disagree.”

“Most of the men are morons,” he kisses the crown of her head.

Suddenly Tiriel elbows up and he realizes she sits on him, her breasts swaying in anticipation.

“What are you doing, love?”

“I haven’t had sex for a year, too, and meanwhile you could, at least, pleasure yourself with your hand, I definitely didn’t have the time of my life.”

“Guilty as charged.”

“Did you think one round would satisfy me?”

Astarion feels his erection growing again, and he places his hands on Tiriel’s wide hips.

“I hoped it wouldn’t.”

--

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[lokisgoodgirl]

Highland Fling [Avenger!/Kilted! Loki x Fem. Reader]

Part of the Hostile F*cks Collection A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: (7) An insufferably smug Kilted! Loki has a convenient history with the mission location, a scottish castle. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Language. Smuttish. "Friends" w/ benefits. Kilted! Loki. Jealousy. Humour. (w/c 3.6k)

How you had let yourself go along with this idiotic plan was beyond you. A scouting mission to a wedding in the highlands of Scotland with only Loki Laufeyson for company. But Rogers had been insistent. The last hour had passed quietly as you prepped in one of the castle bedooms, changing into a simple swing dress that was definitely not red.

Rolling mountains were visible outside a small window cut into original brick, fog wafting over the rusted mossy landscape. “You have other lovers, Agent... or only me?” Loki drawled smugly while straightening his cravat, spoken as casually as asking you to pass the salt.

Steam from the curling iron stung your eyes as you tried not to let your expression change in the mirror, eyes flickering to him stalking over from the four poster bed. Loki’s reflection took up top to toe of the ornate mirror, a tweed waistcoat and jacket snug to his torso. Muted green, of course. A kilt hung perfectly from his natural waist, the thick apron at the front making a flat expanse over his thighs. The pleated sides swung beautifully as he paced towards you, heavy wool held in place by leather straps and buckles tight to his hips. He adjusted a black sporran hanging over his crotch, the leather detail catching your eye. Intricate metal ornaments set against the black rabbit fur clunked as he spread his legs, the dark green and grey tartan looking unreasonably delicious falling over his thighs. Loki’s lashes fanned against his skin as he lowered his chin, smoothing the rough waves of his hair behind his ears. The wedding party was of an old scots clan, so only a traditionally extravagant show of their heritage would do. Every man would be wearing full kilt regalia. But none, you suspected, would look as incredibly panty-wetting as Loki. “Yes, actually.” you lied, running your eyes casually over his muscular frame, wrapped in woven wool. His carved knees were visible at the hem of the kilt. Just the sight of them made you want to sink to your own. “Just, one...you know other...um-” “Lover.” he purred seductively, enjoying the brief furrow of your brow. You released the curl you’d been holding, shaking it out and setting the iron down. “Yeah...lover, yeah. He’s good. He’s uh...nice.” You could feel your heart beat faster as Loki’s chest pressed against your shoulder-blades, the scratch of tweed nipping your bare back. “How tiresome, I’m am sorry.” he murmured condescendingly, twisting your fresh curl around one long finger. You swatted the hand away with a tsk, rummaging in the small make-up bag sitting on the bed-side table. Your mouth felt dry, the deception making your cheeks heat. You swallowed, turning back to the mirror non-nonchalantly. “What about you?” Why did you ask him that, you fucking buffoon? It’s Loki. He’s got a fucking waiting list.

A sly smile curled at the corner of his mouth. “What do you think?” he said, the implication unmistakably clear.

You let your eyes fall back to your own reflection, inspecting your make-up. “Oh I’m sorry, I thought we were having an actual conversation for once.” you said, tilting your chin as you pressed your eyelashes back. “We have conversations all the time Agent, ‘tis hardly my fault they irritate you so.” You sighed, realising victory was a lost cause. There was a churning in your stomach. “I have a bad feeling about this, Loki.” you murmured, scanning your reflection. He chuckled softly. You could hear his dexterous fingers toying with the buckles at his hips. His warm breath ghosted the bare skin of your shoulders. “All we need to do is assess whether the best man is still in league with Hydra. The signs will be obvious.” Loki took a step back, a flash of green in his raised hand drawing your attention.

A buttonhole appeared, a simple thistle with a ribbon of green and gold wrapped intricately around the stem. He continued to speak as he fastened it to his breast, the tilt of his jawline and the concentration on his face making gratuitous wetness gather in your underwear. “If he is, we can use his connection to our advantage. You are a family friend of the wedding party, a normal and understandable guest. And I…” he stepped backwards, the buttonhole in place, drawing his hands upward from his groin to his chest. “Am your delightfully plain yet devoted boyfriend, Edgar.” “Edgar? Christ.” you murmured dryly before you turned towards him, narrowing your eyes. “You look the same.” How is it possible, you thought as a shiver of desire rolled up your spine, that he is more attractive than his own reflection. Now that you were facing him, the scent of his cologne wafted in tendrils up your nostrils, memories of him fucking you slowly over an earth-shattering orgasm filling your head. That cologne. I didn’t change my sheets for days, you remembered; stomach flipping. “Ah...yes.” he purred slowly, amusement sparking as he registered the glaze in your eyes. “Well everyone else shall see my illusion, but I thought I would leave my true form on display for your eyes only. I know you love to stare when you think I’m not looking so at least this way, our ruse that you are attracted to Edgar will have some semblance of realism.” The spell was broken. Your mouth fell ajar, speechless at his audacity. He was right. But that wasn’t the point. You frowned, concern growing as Loki began to smirk. “Why would I not be attracted to Edgar?” His gaze crawled down your body and back to your piercing stare. “Poor Edgar is rather punching above his weight class, Agent.” You whined in frustration, harshly tugging the lapel of his jacket. “Make him hot, Loki please...come on. Don’t be a dick this one time.This isn’t funny, people I haven’t seen in years are at this wedding.”

“I cannot I’m afraid.” Loki sighed, creases at the corner of his eyes betraying his mirth. ‘Bland and inconspicuous’ were Rogers exact words. And darling, nothing is more inconspicuous than a paunch and a bald spot.”

“A bald…” you trailed off, squeezing your eyes shut with a sharp intake of breath. He was trying to get a rise out of you, and you wouldn’t let him. “I hate you.” you scoffed flippantly, twirling the lipstick between your fingers as you turned toward the mirror. You leant forward, feeling his eyes burning into your reflection. Pressing your newly coated lips together, your gaze flickered up where Loki stood in his signature power stance. His arms were crossed, chin tucked to the cravat rising from his waistcoat as he observed you flip the lid back on the golden tube with a click. “Let’s try that again. Once more with feeling, Agent.” he murmured, swiping a strand of hair back from your collarbone. “Make me believe it.” Loki’s fingertips trailed the delicate skin, lingering a moment too long to be anything less than an act of war. Reluctantly, you turned your eyes up to meet his smoulder in the reflection, resisting the urge push your ass back onto the sporran. “I hate you.” you said, red lipstick punching every syllable. “That’s better.” he smirked. “Now let’s go and pretend to be in love...shall we?”

It felt odd, having Loki – or Edgar -be nice to you. Affectionate, even. Without a hint of innuendo or snideness. Edgar followed you diligently around the room as you greeted old friends, and you surmised pretty quickly that Loki had undersold just how far Edgar was punching above his weight. During one conversation, Loki’s large palm had slid unexpectedly up your cheek and coaxed you into a soft kiss. His tongue had played at the parting of your lips, pressure building and ebbing as he massaged them with his own. “I’ll be right back...darling.” he whispered softly.

He was gone before you realised your eyes were still closed. “He seems...sweet.” an old acquaintance cooed as your pretend boyfriend skulked to fetch another round of free wine. “He is.” you lied, still processing the kiss as you noted the bemusement in her eyes. She looked from you to Edgar, bumbling around the drinks table. “What does he do again?” she asked politely, draining her glass. “Oh, erm...he’s an accountant.” you replied, noting her eyes glaze over. If she knew that he’s actually the fittest man she’d ever see in her life who happens to be a sex god...and an actual god, she’d cream herself with jealousy; you thought wistfully. Your stare was drawn irrevocably back to Loki, holding up each pre-poured glass to inspect it in the light. His long arms bulged beneath the restraint of the tweed jacket, his perfectly fitted kilt swaying with classical eroticism. The line of his calves tightened beneath thick knee-high socks, traditional laces winding up his muscles. Suddenly Loki knelt down on one knee, brushing the kilt up. His thumb and forefinger gripped the muscle, the taut skin of his thigh coming into view before he readjusted the laces at his ankle.For the first time, you noticed a ceremonial sgian-dubh dagger tucked in those stupid socks. Maybe I’ll let him use it on me later, you thought; remembering with a snap that you were in company. Or maybe he won’t ask first.

Loki’s chin tilted towards you, fluttering his eyes upwards to meet yours. He winked.

You felt saliva pool beneath your tongue before you swallowed, turning back to the woman with a manufactured smile. “I think it’s great you’re so into him. He must be a really nice guy.” the woman said, her saccharine lilt making you wince. It was going to be a long night.

Hours later, after the speeches and the meal; you conceded that Loki had officially run out of ways to irritate the everloving fuck out of you. He had spent the entire dinner turning every conversation at the table toward the nuances of asset depreciation and the politics of taxable turnover. Now that they were no longer obligated to stay, everyone at your table of ten had left. “It’s just my personality, darling.” Loki said knowingly under his breath, as you watched the last person splutter their excuses and make a beeline for the bar. “Mischievous?” you huffed through a fake smile, giving the deserter an apologetic wave goodbye. “I find it hard to believe you’re naturally this much of an asshole.” “But you seem to like it so much, Agent.” he grinned, fiddling with a crumpled napkin on the table as his eyes fell briefly to your cleavage. You pursed your lips, scanning the room. “This is a total bust, there’s no hint of Hydra security anywhere. Best man is a dead end.” you murmured, landing back on Loki. “Well, it was a longshot.” he whispered seductively, his fingers dancing over the table to where yours sat. They clasped around your hand, toying affectionately with your rings before raising them to his lips. Turns out, he was actually pretty good at this whole acting thing; but then, you shouldn’t have been surprised. “Perhaps Rogers was misinformed on the lead.” he murmured against your skin.

You let out a staggered breath as memories of the earlier kiss blossomed in your mind. He’s not going to kiss you, no one’s watching, you thought as his blue eyes sparked into yours, the gold specks decorating his irises flickering in the candlelight. You shook your head. “-...like that little quip about charity.” you sniped, yanking your hand away. “No-one’s naturally that much of a dick.” “Are we still talking about that? Agent, that was weeks ago.” he huffed, reaching for the untouched wine in front of him. Silence reigned between you as he drummed his fingers on the table, looking towards the dancefloor before his gaze swung back. “And why did it bother you so much?” “Are you…” you lowered your voice to a hiss, placing a finger on your temple as you leant toward him on the table. “Are you serious? You pretty much said I’m a pity fuck. That’s low, even for you.” There was silence as you both stared ahead. You looked at Loki from the corner of your eye, feeling a wave of renewed anger as a tepid smirk tugged at his lips. “If I was Nat I’d have smashed a bottle over your head.” Loki’s eyes flashed as he turned; smelling prey. “You are every bit as ferocious as Ms Romanoff, Agent...so why didn’t you?” Your stare hardened further. “Because firstly, I don’t want my boss to know who I’m fucking and secondly, I don’t want him to know I’m fucking you.” “Ah.” Loki hummed thoughtfully, biting away a grin. “And there we have it. You’re ashamed of your growing feelings for me. Reason, at last.” “Oh my god, you are fucking unbel-”

“Darling...eh-he-he...oh, delightful...delightful joke…” Loki patted your leg, letting out a chiming laugh while several guests passed behind your seats. He leant forward, tightening his grip on your thigh. You clenched, his firm squeeze filling your head with filth. Loki’s hand slid upward, the rustling of your dress giving way to his touch making you breathe faster. His nose grazed your ear. “You’re forgetting yourself, Agent." he chided. "Concentrate.” The god’s lips brushed your cheek as he released an innocent breath that sounded almost like a moan before returning upright in his chair. He was smirking, naturally. “Edgar could be an asshole, they don’t know” you shrugged, crossing your legs. You could feel the arousal you had been fighting sliding between your thighs as you reached for your drink, before slumping back in the chair. “I think Edgar and I will be calling it quits, actually.” “Edgar is not an arsehole, darling. He is a fine, if rather...unfortunate looking, fellow. And you’re lucky to have him.” Loki said calmly, enjoying the view of your glare from his peripheral vision as he sipped his wine. He set it down with a theatrical sigh. “Besides, this might be a perfect opportunity for you to confront your prejudice toward me.” Your eyes widened. “Excuse me?” “Charity.” he said, as if it explained everything. Your felt your heart beat faster, stirrings of a memory you couldn’t yet place. Your brows knitted together. “Yes? And?” The blue of his eyes darkened in the low light from the antique candle centrepieces as he leant closer, his eyelids cast down before they fluttered innocently upward. “Does the mortal child looking for a marrow donor not ring a bell in that pretty head of yours?” Your stomach dropped, suddenly remembering how he had stepped in at the eleventh hour to help with the nationwide campaign to find a donor at your reluctant request. Apparently, he was a big draw for female demographics aged 18-45. ‘Could you be her hero? Remember, not all heroes...wear leather’. Fuck, you’d hated that line. You felt your core flutter at the memory of watching him make love to the camera, his chiselled face set in a rare, wide-eyed sincerity as he wrapped in one take. “I thought not. How quick you humans are to seek the conclusion you wish to find.” Loki’s smug glee was palpable. You spluttered, your mind whirring. “But...the way you said it.” “With my voice?” he intonated, laden with sarcasm. “The assumption that I was referencing our trysts? That was created...here.” he tapped your forehead lightly with one long finger. You scoffed, grabbing your clutch. “Your witchy mindfucks won’t work on me, Laufeyson.” you hissed, pushing up from the chair. “Is that right?” he said, a smile tugging the corner of his mouth. “Yes.” you spat, taking a step towards the door before Loki grabbed your wrist. “Let me escort you, we shouldn’t draw attention to ourselves with a scene.” He scanned the room. People were making their way to the dancefloor as the party began, shards of mirrorball light bouncing against the chunky ancient stone brickwork. With a grimace, you conceded he was probably right.

You tugged your arm from his grip. “Fine.” you said, waiting for him to stand. God, I’d forgotten about the kilt, you thought; as it swung into view. The flat apron of tartan at the front creased, the unstoppable bulge of his cock flashing momentarily against the thick fabric. That wool has like...layers, you thought, bamboozled by the ridiculousness of his anatomy. “Come.” he muttered, jutting his arm. You slid your own around it, making your way together to the heavy doors. The music grew fainter as Loki walked purposefully through a series of winding corridors, medieval style torches hanging from the brickwork flooding the small spaces with an orange glow. “Where are we going? I don’t think we’re supposed to be here...” you murmured, your head swirling with sensory overload in the flickering gloom as Loki squeezed your fingers around his bicep. “I want to show you something…” he whispered, as a dripping sounded from the stretching darkness beyond. You were acutely aware of every click of your heels underfoot breaking the silence. He led you deeper away from the modernised area of the castle, the stone wall beneath your fingertips feeling moist as you trailed along it. You and Loki side-by-side took up the entire passage, a sliver of ebbing light appearing from around an upcoming turn. “Is your cock pierced again- is that why you’re making such a fuss?” you blurted with a need to fill the intimate, crushing silence. Loki’s low chuckle echoed. “You liked that, didn't you Agent? I could tell.”

You were suddenly glad for the darkness, feeling your cheeks flush. Turning the corner, you gasped as an old chapel room came into view, a window cut into the high wall sending a single beam of dust-filled light across the floor. Stern arches raised on either side of the walls, a stale musk of history heavy in the air. As you stared up at the vaulted ceiling, you felt Loki’s arms slide around your waist from behind. “I was almost wed in this chapel once.” he murmured coyly, releasing a groan into your ear on the exhale. He rubbed his cheekbone possessively against your temple, his voice deepening. “What are the chances?” “Wed? Wha-” “Hush, Agent.” he purred, spinning you to face him. You stared up at his insufferably perfect face, the sharp features carved like marble; set for a scene which had clearly already been decided. You shivered, rough brickwork scratching your skin as he nudged you backward. “You already know that I have enjoyed occasional Midgardian dalliances, throughout my lifetime” he hummed, trailing his knuckles down your neck. “Sex and violence are so much more potent, within this realm. So...raw.” “And motorcross…” you gasped, shrugging his tweed jacket over his biceps and casting it to the ground. You popped the buttons of his waistcoat, as he chuckled; letting it slide away. “Indeed” he purred, pushing you back against the wall before untying the cravat from his neck and tossing it aside. Loki un-tucked his shirt from the kilt waistband, before gracefully fingering the buttons and letting it join the pile of discarded clothing on the bricks below. Only the kilt remained. He placed a palm flat against the wall behind you, inhaling dramatically against the skin of your neck. A whimper snuck past your lips as you felt the lustful god buck against you, his chiselled torso flat against your fragile body.

“I spent some time here in the mid-1700s. There was mischief afoot amongst the Scots which I felt obliged to...encourage.” he hummed, playing with the shoulder of your dress. You frowned. “Are you talking about the Jacobites?” Loki chuckled, placing a sucking bite against your skin before answering. “Indeed. Norns, I haven’t heard that stupid name in a long time.” His forefinger caressed the hollow of your neck, making you tilt your chin upward with a moan. “Loki…we shouldn't-” you whispered, as your fingers combed his hair back, tugging gently. “-It’s all a bit dull, really.” he continued, as your palms slid down his shoulders and over his chest. “I was caught ravishing the clan leader’s daughter. Against this very wall, in fact." He bit his lip, running his eyes ravenously down your keening body. "She was howling my name with such enthusiasm the entire warrior guard kicked down that door ready for slaughter, axes in hand. Naturally, her father tried to marry us on the spot.”

Your mind spasmed, thinking of Loki rutting into another woman as she came against this stone three hundred years ago. “Needless to say...events did not fall in their favour.” Loki hummed, his knuckles trailing appraisingly over the dent of your cheekbone. He really is a timeless wanker, you thought; realising your hand had begun to palm his engorged cock beneath the kilt.

The god’s fingers curled around your throat, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Does it arouse you, thinking of me with another?” he groaned, rocking against your hand. “She’s dead.” you gasped, feeling him grow thicker beneath your touch. “Mmm...it’s still possible to be jealous of a dead lover, Agent. Would you like the chance to best her? She was rather memorable.” You gathered a clutch of thick wool containing his throbbing girth in a tight fist, squeezing harder than you ever had in your life. "I can't stand you Loki, I don't care who you fuck now...never mind hundreds of years ago." Loki hissed above you, shoulders rolling back, his mouth falling open. “Ahhhh” he gasped, eyelids fluttering shut as you doubled down. “If you are trying to make me suffer, Agent...I must confess, that is not the way to do it.” “So you’re a true Scotsman tonight, huh?” you goaded, raising an eyebrow as you tugged the rough wool covering his cock. “At least...in one respect. If lacking in others. I guess that’s something.” Snideness coloured your words, enjoying the twisting of his eyebrows as he searched for the insult beneath his pleasure. There was no hint of underwear beneath the garment as Loki flinched, his knees beginning to buckle as you roughly jacked him against the fabric. “Oh, Agent” he hummed, fingernails scraping against the wall behind you as his eyes rolled back. Loki let out a single animalistic grunt, before swatting your wrist away from its grip. He had found the insult.

His fingers wrapped around your forearm, suddenly pulling you across the chapel floor towards an imposing stone staircase in the corner. A thin rope stretched across the opening, a worn sign hanging lamely in the middle before he tore it aside. Battlements, it read. You gasped as the world upended. Loki had thrown you over his shoulder. With arms hanging by his ass, you watched the kilt swing methodically as your half-hearted cries of protestation choked the air, blood thundering in your ears. You felt rough layers of clothing manifest over his bare torso as you squirmed, the tartan changing in waves beneath your palms as he bounded up the rough-cut stairs two at a time.

“Tonight you’ll see just how much of a true Scotsman I can be.” he muttered darkly, before kicking the heavy door at the top of the staircase wide to the night air with a shuddering thud.

Continued in Highland Fling - The Battlements Part of the Hostile F*cks Collection

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[gothushi]

pressure

pairing: rob x photographer!reader

warnings: none

note: definitely just a filler chapter because i want the inital attack to be its own! that’s coming next;)

word count: 3.1k

part 1 | this is part 2! | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

——————♡

Day three out of the car, it’s hot, humid, and it’s only getting worse as it nears noon. The group has stopped for a break on a small cliffside that overlooks a larger part of the river you’ve been traveling along. It’s been a bit tense today, Michelle’s attitude not faring very nicely due to a few spats here and there, being scolded by John, getting upset with James. However it doesn’t bother you too much, focused on actually enjoying this experience and currently, focused on your job.

Stood near the edge of the small cliffside, your frustration is growing with each snapshot you get. It just isn’t right.. it feels off, not satisfactory. Rob’s watching you, keeping an eye out. The way you’re so close to that edge makes him feel nervous, has him not wanting to tear his eyes from you. He’s leant against a tree, arms crossed over his broad chest as he stares. Eyes follow your movements as you crouch down, then sit on the edge of the rock, legs over the edge, leaning forward a little, and God you’re trying to give him a heart attack.

“Be careful!” He calls out, louder than he intended to as he walks over, crouching down next to you with a hand finding your back.

“I’m fine, just frustrated..” Is the reply you offer, sighing as you flick through the photos you just took.

“Yeah, that’s what concerns me. I’m worried your frustration is going to lead you to making a dumb choice.” His tone is flat, “The view isn’t going to be that much better from a position that gives me a heart attack.”

Narrowing your eyes with no real malice, you sigh. It’s like you can physically see the shot you want, but can’t get. A little pout actually forms on your lips as you look down at the water below. “Yes it would be.”

Rob sighs, leaning in a little more, “I really don’t think it’s worth risking your life for a photo.” His hand drifts from your back to tuck some hair behind your ear, the touch gentle like he’s trying to distract you.

So focused on your frustration, it takes a moment for his action to register in your brain. A slight flush rises on your cheeks, easily blamed on the sticky heat, but it makes his own heart speed up nonetheless, “I know, it’s just frustrating because I can see what I want but can’t get it.”

“What exactly is it that you want?” he asks, keeping his tone a bit playful but also genuine. He’s not going to deny that it’s adorable to see how upset you are over getting a certain angle.

“The water but- from down there. It’s too high up here.” For the photo you really want, you’d need to be about six feet down the cliffside, halfway down. There is a trail below.. but it’s a long drop if you were to fall.

Deep blues glance downwards, studying the area, “It’s a pretty steep drop, how did you exactly plan on getting down there?”

“I didn’t.” You mutter, “I was gonna sit here pouting until we have to keep hiking.” Stubborn as you are, you’re smart enough to not actually risk your life.

He laughs at the blunt truth, looking back to you again. He stares for a moment before speaking, “You really want that photo, don’t you?”

“It’d look so nice,” you sigh, frowning down at the pretty water, calm and flowing into a large lake, ‘I wish I was like one of those goats that climb mountains.”

He chuckles again, cheeks a bit red against his tanned skin, “Alright, what if I offered to help you down there?” In his mind, it’s not that drastic of a descent. Not halfway at least. There are rocks below on a steep side that you could use to step on, the key would be being able to stay steady against the drop. His words make you stare at him for a moment. Surely not, he’s the professional here after all, jungle wise, he shouldn’t be encouraging this.

“It’s fine, really. I’ll forget about it before the nights over. It’s just frustrating right now.”

“No, no really, I’m serious.” He shrugs, not willing to back down. He likes adventure, and after seeing it he’s sure he can get a safe path down, at least part way. “I promise I won’t let you plummet to your death. Besides, maybe you’re right, it’ll look way better down there.”

“Well- how? One wrong step and I’m falling for sure.” You spare another glance down, feet dangling over the edge. It’s steep, maybe not as steep as the mountains those goats climb but.. steep. Large rocks embedded in dirt, big tree roots sticking out, even a large tree growing from the cliffside.

“Oh, the normal way, carefully.” Rob retorts bluntly, making you stare. He twists and lowers his pack, pulling some rope from his bag, “The trick is to not fall.”

“You’re serious?”

“Dead serious.” He nods, standing up and holding a hand out, which you take, “If we start to slide, I’ll have you. You just worry about getting the photo.” He helps you stand and then unfurls the thick rope, tossing it out on the ground. He takes the end and loops it around the tree he was leaning against earlier, securing a tight knot on it and tugging hard, “John!” He calls, beckoning the other man over. He exchanges a few words, and John stays by the tree to keep an eye on the rope. You just watch, camera resting against your stomach where it hangs from the strap around your neck. Is he serious? Isn’t this kinda dangerous?

Rob has the rope secured around his waist, testing the strength as he walks back over. Without a word his arms wrap around you, tugging you close. It startles you, his strength with just a simple action impressive and making something flutter in your gut. “Easy, let me do it.” He’s close to your ear, muttering lowly as he steps you both closer to the edge. Lowering down, he keeps a strong hold on you whilst digging his heels into the side, letting the rope help to keep him upright as he uses the rocks and firm dirt to step down.

He’s holding you like fucking nothing, making heat stir in your stomach. Are you really that easy? That this is all it takes? One strong man and you’re a puddle of mush? Your arguing thoughts are interrupted by hearing him grunt in your ear, his entire body pressed against yours, and you finally speak, “This- this is good.” He’s managed to get you both lowered down enough to where the top of his head is out of John’s view above, and you’re a bit nervous to go any further down even with the rope holding Rob steady. He holds you still, keen eyes watching as you take a rapid succession of photos. His arms are tight around you, digging into your sides, hands clasped on them. Your own feet knock onto the tops of his boots and it clicks that he’s just fully holding you up. A dull throb of arousal forms between your thighs, only for a moment as you swallow, “Um- that’s good. I got enough.”

Your hand finds his forearm, the other holding your camera. Rob can feel his skin tingle where you touch, skin warm and smooth. The contact sends a jolt of arousal up his spine, something he has to will away quickly, “You sure? Did you wanna go lower?”

The idea makes you feel a bit nervous even though you trust him, so you shake your head. He hums a small noise so you know he understands and then begins to back up, using the path he took down and one hand on the rope- Lord help please he’s holding you with just one arm-

“Get some good photos?” John is right there at the top to help you up first, snapping you from that flustered daze.

“Yeah! Yeah, turned out nice.” Liar, you didn’t even look at them yet. John helps Rob up and then the latter begins to undo the knot in the rope around his waist. The professor claps a hand onto Rob’s arm and then walks to the tree to undo the rope there.

You clear your throat, sparing a glance at Rob as you hold your camera, needing something to keep your hands steady, “Um- thanks.”

His eyes flit to your face, hands on the rope, scanning over the pinkish hue on your cheeks, before grinning, “No problem.”

You need some water.

—

Some hours pass along the trails. John getting a scorpion off of Tim’s back, Michelle and James arguing at the rear of the group, crossing a small river and venturing into a shadier area of the jungle.

“I’m not too sure- actually..”

“Wha- aren’t you supposed to be an expert?”

“Oh God it’s huge!”

You’re looking on as John joins the others, James filming, Maria sat off by herself watching. Lisa’s found.. something, though you aren’t sure what it is yet. They’re all staring behind the log of a fallen tree covered in moss.

“Is it awesome?” James’ question makes Lisa laugh, she’s actually excited, agreeing that it is indeed awesome. John climbs over the tree, on one end as Rob is on the other. He waves his hat, seemingly distracting something, and you forget all about your camera for a moment to just watch in pure curiosity. Even Rob is grinning big. Seconds of silence pass before John moves quick, grabbing whatever it is with Rob’s help.

A fucking python. A beautiful, long, yellow python. The professor carries him over the log, stepping down onto the trail with Rob’s hand on his arm for balance. The creature is coiled up, twisting its body along John’s front as he speaks, “Now he’s obviously a constrictor, a python, but, that’d be strange because they’re not indigenous to this area. Now.. that means he’s either a migrant species so.. come in on a boat or something..” They’re all so happy, James filming, and Rob keeps reaching a hand up to pet over the python, keeping it distracted from going closer to the professor's face.

“Or..” He continues on, “there’s an emergence of a new species in this area.. and if that’s the case, that’s what we came here for.” You’re already snapping photos, stood off to the side. Some of them you find yourself zoomed further onto Rob, on his pretty smile as he pets the snake, before snapping out of it and getting a wider shot of the actual animal and not your crush. They start to do a piece for the camera itself, talking about how one of the researchers found him basking in the warm sunlight. The python twists its tail end around John’s leg, earning some chuckles as Rob untangles him and then takes the python from John’s arms to take him back to the spot he was resting previously, Michelle speaking with the professor to the camera James is holding.

You follow Rob, snapping some photos. God his arms are so muscular.. strong.. he held you so easily earlier.. veins stand out, muscles flexing as he carries the no doubt heavy animal back to the fallen tree. Heat coils in your core as you flick through the photos, eyes trained on Rob in each one rather than actually checking if it’s a viable picture or not. He could probably lift you and f-

“Get some good ones?” His voice startles you, your face red, and you nod quickly.

“Yeah! Yeah, um- that’s really cool. This is what you guys wanted.” Lord he gave you a heart attack. His hand finds your back, rubbing over it lightly as a silent appreciation. No more words are exchanged as John shares a hug with Lisa and then Rob, before the group carries on.

—

Further west back towards the river, the group stumbles upon the most beautiful waterfall. It’s huge, capturing James’ attention as he films it. You hear Tim vaguely say something about crocodiles, making the professor laugh loudly. You stand idly, admiring the falling water as James sets his camera down. Michelle’s looking up and doesn’t notice when James runs up and puts his arm around her, but she definitely gets upset and snaps at him. They’re bickering at the base of the waterfall, making your eyes practically start twitching.

“Will you two move!?” You yell, catching their attention above the water falling, crashing into the otherwise calm river. With a wave of your arm, obviously agitated, they scurry out of the way, Michelle looking pissed off and James a bit sheepish. Rob noticed, obviously, he hasn’t been able to really keep his eyes off of you for most of the day, and he huffs a small laugh, sauntering over. He doesn’t even say anything, watching as you take some photos, and then you turn around to look for him and light up when your eyes meet his, “C’mere, go stand by the water where they were.”

He complies easily, he doesn’t think he could tell you no even if he wanted to. Finding himself in the spot where the other two just were, he rests his hands on his vest, looking up at the water. He’s obviously aware you’re taking photos of him, so he tries to relax his face, trying not to look too stiff, probably overthinking the entire state of his body.

“Okay!” You call to him, voice a bit fainter over the sound of the water. He hears you though, looking over at you as he makes his way closer whilst you take a few steps to excitedly show him your camera screen, “They look good, huh?”

And oh.. they do. He actually smiles at the sight of himself. They’re zoomed in closer than he imagined, good quality, capturing his steely gaze as he was admiring the waterfall and looking up at the cliffside high above. “I-.. yeah.. yeah I really like these.” He grins big, smiling down at you. Your attention is focused on your screen, flicking through the handful of photos, but he’s watching the sweet look on your face, the pure excitement shining in your eyes.

“Can you take my photo?” James appears beside you two, asking excitedly but also a bit sheepish. It makes you laugh and nod, smiling at him.

“Of course I will, go on.”

—

Late at night now, all sat around a little fire, John is prattling on about lions or something. Masai’s and lions back home, reassuring James that he isn’t going to see a lion here, but your focus is on Rob. He’s sat next to you, leant in close, having low conversation. Beforehand, anytime you made eye contact with him during the day made heat coil in your stomach, a shudder run up your spine. There’s a heat between the two of you, something more, you can tell that much, or you at least hope you aren’t imagining it.

He smiles softly, keeping eye contact as he speaks, something about a trip to Africa he took a few years ago. He’s so close, crowding your space almost, grinning in the low firelight, when James interrupts to get Rob’s attention.

“Have you ever seen a real lion? Like out in the wild?”

Rob gives him a glare, staring down James’ face overtop the camera, “Yes.”

“Have you ever seen a lion kill someone?”

He fights back the urge to roll his eyes, “Yes.”

“Really? Like actually-” Michelle’s giving him a look to knock it off but it isn’t working, “Professor were you there?” He turns the camera, and John gives him the obvious yes as an answer.

The entire interaction pulls a small laugh out of you, leaning into Rob’s space just as much as he is in yours, “Y’gotta admit he makes this trip entertaining.”

A huffed sigh from Rob, turning his gaze back to you as James talks to Tim, “That’s one word for it.”

His dry words make you nudge him with your arm, scolding softly, “Be nice.. I remember how excited I was on my first real expedition.”

“Well- you’re a lot cuter than him so I’d actually tolerate that.” The flirtation comes out before he processes it, and it makes your cheeks heat up as you laugh, before James is interrupting again to ask you some questions. You happily answer them, about how you started photography, and he was also curious about the camera you have. Maria, Lisa and Tim all filter off to bed as you talk, then Michelle, then John ushers the rest of you off to bed. When it’s just him and Rob by the fire, he speaks.

“What you did earlier was risky.”

“Is my flirting really that bad? Could you hear?”

“No, at the cliff.”

“I’m aware.” Rob sighs, glancing in the direction of your tent before gazing back at the small fire. It’s clear he’s gonna get scolded right now. “I was being careful.”

“I’m just saying. You wouldn’t have done that for anyone else.” John shrugs. He fully understands Rob was careful but.. it was dangerous.

“I guess that’s probably true.” Rob mutters back, eyes low. At this point, he’s thinking about it for the millionth time. The way his heart was pounding, his arms tight around you, holding your weight like nothing, the arousal it sends up his spine everytime.

“Hey,” John sighs, staring at Rob, “I have no problem if you like her. But don’t let it affect your judgment here. I didn’t say anything because I was there, knew you could handle it, but don’t try a stunt like that again.” His words ring true, he knows that, but Rob is reluctant to acknowledge it.

“I know..” He sighs, ��I get it wasn’t the smartest but.. she really wanted those pictures..”

“Wrapped around her finger.” John muses, grinning at his friend.

It makes him flush, he doesn’t like being called out. Heat blooms on his cheeks, and he hopes John can’t see the color since it’s so dark, “I-.. yeah.”

“So now you admit it?” The latter chuckles.

“Oh shut up.” His lips twist into a big smile, glancing at the professor. “Yeah. She has me wrapped around her finger. Happy now?”

“Very. Just keep it in your pants until we get home.”

That makes him groan, rubbing a hand over his face in embarrassment, “Shut up.”

John snorts out a laugh, poking the fire with his stick but no longer teases Rob, saying that it’s probably a good idea for them to go to bed now.

———————♡

[ijustwanttoreadfanfiction]

Here Comes The Sun

Billy Hargrove x AFAB! Reader

I didn't intend for the Billy one-shots I've posted so far to link up, I just really enjoyed the juxtaposition of the 'Sunshine' reader to his (let's be honest with ourselves) less than stellar personality. But evidently I'm hashing them into a series with a random timeline. Presenting the night you and Billy met.

Warnings: Mentions of domestic violence, mentions of abusive parent, explicit language, sex references, under-age drinking (under 21), smoking.

_______________________________________________

Billy is wasted.

It had been his sole purpose for the evening, spurred into self-destruct mode by yet another fight with his father, face stinging with the reminder of respect and responsibility.

He knew there was a party going on, gunning his Camaro through the winding, backwater, shithole roads of Hawkins, pulling up with a skidding flair to a boarded up building called ‘Benny’s Burgers’. The steady thumping bass emanating from inside was literal music to his ears, no plan except get drunk, maybe get his dick wet and forget about his shit life for a few hours.

Beer, vodka, tequila, it was all the same, burning his throat and stomach with numbing relief. Sweat poured off of him, chain smoking until he felt light-headed, some girl was sucking on his neck but she was faceless, nameless, he didn’t care, didn’t want to know.

He did a keg-stand, the cheers and shouts around him meant nothing, he didn’t need the praise of slack-jawed hicks. He staggered and lurched outside, away from the crowds, dizzy from the kegger. Get some air Billy, you fucking pussy he snarled at himself, punching his chest. 

He drops heavily to sit on the damp grass, trying to light another cigarette but the lighter keeps drifting away from where he needs it to be.

“Piece of shit.” He mumbles, throwing the zippo away, letting himself fall backwards to lay flat, chest heaving. 

_______________________________________________

He doesn’t remember passing out, dazedly brought round by something, no, someone tapping his face lightly.

“Hey - you ok?” The voice is soft, gentle.

Billy opens his eyes, vision bleary and hazed around the edges, your face floats in front of him, you seem concerned.

“‘Mfine.” He slurs, blinking rapidly trying to bring everything into focus.

“You sure about that?” You ask disbelievingly, cocking an eyebrow at his current state. He somehow pushes himself up into a sitting position, you’re kneeling down next to him not seeming to mind the wet grass on your bare legs.

“Heeyy - you’re cute, name’s Billy.” Billy smiles, trying to turn on the charm, thinking about the part of the evening where he could get his dick wet.

“Y/n, and you are very drunk.” You laugh, the sound echoing off the trees.

“I’m not as d-drunk as the other people.” He gestures haphazardly to the building, which now he really looked, seemed oddly quiet and empty.

“Uh - pretty much everyone has gone home, it’s like 4am, you must have been passed out for a while.” You place a delicate hand on his knee, patting it sympathetically, a small smile playing about your lips.

“Fu-ck.” Billy hiccups, he hauls himself up on bandy legs stumbling immediately, you step forward on instinct wrapping an arm about his waist to steady him, his muscular frame heavy. “S’ why’re you still here?” He asks, not remembering seeing you at the party, because he definitely would have remembered you.

“My friend called me to pick her up.” You sigh, pointing towards your car, he can see a blonde girl slumped in the rear passenger seat. “Can I give you a ride home?” You offer gently.

Billy shakes his head, the momentum throwing him into a dizzy lurch again, you press your other hand to his chest bracing him securely.

“No - I can’t go home.” He mumbles

“Well I’m certainly not letting you drive anywhere.” You insist, steering him towards your vehicle.

“My dad’ll kill me.” He sighs with a mirthless laugh, ignoring the sudden burn in his eyes and the hiss of ‘fucking cry-baby’ in his head.

You chuckle, helping him to perch on the bonnet of your car, hands hovering in case he slips.

“You’re just a little drunk I'm sure your dad wo-”

“No - no you don’t understand - he’ll k-kill me.” Billy says seriously, but the words still sound a little mashed together, he notices your concerned frown again and it makes his heart feel tight.

“Ok not home, but I’m not leaving you out here by yourself either.” You say firmly, hands on your hips, foot tapping against the gravel of the parking lot. “You gonna murder me in my sleep if I take you home with me?” You ask, eyes narrowed, finger pointing at his chest accusingly but there’s the hint of a smile playing about your pretty lips.

“Murder y-? Y/n, I don’t think I could find my dick to take a piss right now.” Billy says honestly, and you let out a bell-like laugh.

“I’m holding you to that Billy.” You warned teasingly. “Get in, I need to drop Sleeping Beauty home first.” You say nodding towards your friend who is snoring heavily, face smushed up against the rear window.

_______________________________________________

Billy drifts in and out of a doze as you drive, the window rolled down just in case, cold night air feeling nice on his hot face, you were singing along under your breath to some tape but he wasn’t really registering the words, maybe something about an octopus or some shit. 

“Billy, I’m gonna take Cassidy inside ok?” You say gently, tapping him on the shoulder, jerking him back to the present, he nods sleepily, sinking further into the seat. Despite his drunken state, he still watches you carefully as you half carry your wasted friend up the steps and into her house, he probably should have gone to help but he definitely would be more of a hindrance in his condition. 

He jolts at the sound of the car door opening, and the engine starting, having drifted off again.

“She ‘k?” He asks, rubbing at his eyes.

“Who? Cass? Yeah she’ll be fine, apart from the hangover.” You laugh. “We’ll be home in like ten minutes, I live just a little off of Brantford, you?”

“Cherry.”

You both lapse into a comfortable silence, Billy is close to nodding off again when the volume of music increases slightly, rousing him once more.

“Sorry,” You say, smiling sheepishly, withdrawing your hand from the dial “it’s my favourite.”

‘-Little darlin’, it’s been a long, cold lonely winter

Little darlin’, it feels like years since it’s been here -’

Something stirs in Billy’s sluggish memory as you carry on singing softly, it’s The Beatles, the tape you’re listening to, he knows that now but there’s something else.

“Mom -.” He breathes, the word escaping his mouth before he can stop it, you glance at him curiously as he sits up straighter cranking the volume up again to listen properly.

‘-Little darlin’, it seems like years since it’s been here

Here comes the sun

Here come the sun-’

“- and I say, it’s alright…” You both finish off the lyric together, Billy blinking hard, willing the tears away.

“Wouldn’t have you pegged as a Beatles fan.” You say gently.

“This was my mom’s favourite song - I’d forgotten.” Billy says roughly, sniffing hard, memories of distant sunlit days, the sound of her shimmering laughter and the cresting of the ocean against the sandy shore crashing down over him like he was caught in a swell.

“Where is she? Your Mom?” You ask cautiously.

“Away from all the shit.” Billy says simply, effectively ending the conversation.

“You want me to turn it off?” You reach for the dial, but Billy catches your hand.

“Leave it on - please.” The please is whispered, the word moving unfamiliarly in his mouth, you give a small nod, neither of you dropping the hand of the other.

You pull in front of a modest house, not unlike his own as the song comes to a close, shutting off the engine, sending him a slightly nervous smile.

“Still good on the not murdering me front?” You ask, and he laughs, feeling a little bereft when you drop his hand to get out of the car.

“Scouts honour.” He hums, following you up the path on slightly steadier feet.

“I highly doubt that you were ever in the scouts.” You laugh.

“Looks can be deceiving sunshine.” 

He notices the way you flush slightly and how your fingers fumble with your key in the lock, in response to the nickname, and decides he likes it a lot. 

“My parents are pretty heavy sleepers, we just need to be careful on the stairs, they creak a bit” You whisper, toeing off your sneakers, taking Billy’s hand once more and leading him up the stairs, both of you stifling giggles when the tenth step groans and the snores of presumably your father kick up a notch.

You point Billy in the direction of the bathroom, and then wordlessly step into your room leaving the door open for him.

Clearly your parents have an en-suite as this obviously serves as your bathroom, soft, sweet peach like perfume hanging in the air, makeup littering the counter, he chuckles at the Aquanet perched on the sink. Billy takes a much needed piss, sighing in relief, he notes he must like you because he’s bothered to wipe the seat across knowing his aim is still dogshit from the alcohol. Washing his hands at the sink, the unforgiving bathroom light and mirror lays it all bare, bloodshot eyes, the curls of his forehead damp with sweat, the shiner on his cheek courtesy of Neil blooming purple. He splashes cool water over his face and neck in an attempt to wash some of the clamminess away, jumping slightly at the soft knock on the door. You’re on the other side when he opens it, in an oversized Mickey Mouse nightie that rests just above your knees, you look fucking adorable and he feels his heart tighten again.

“Hi, I just wanna brush my teeth.” You say softly.

“Uh - sure, yeah - go ahead.” He murmurs, skin feeling electrified when your arms brush as you move past.

“I won’t be long, make yourself comfortable.” You whisper. 

Your room is softly lit by a small pink shaded lamp, the walls a lilac with green ivy leaves around the border, they almost look hand painted and Billy wonders if you did it yourself. He takes in the general clutter with a smile, a battered but very loved looking Snoopy stuffie sat on a wicker basket chair, polaroid photos of you and your friends over the years stuck to the wall above your bed in the shape of a heart.

“You could have got in the bed you know, can’t sleep standing up, well, unless you’re a Zebra.” Your voice cuts through the silence, carefully closing the door, smiling softly at Billy. 

“I didn’t know which side you preferred.” He says awkwardly, internally wondering when he became a fourteen year old boy again.

You breeze past unbothered, settling on the left side, pulling the comforter down for him on the right. This is weird right? Sharing a bed with a literal stranger, not that he’s never done that before, but this feels different, intimate. 

“I can take the floor you know, you don’t have to -”

“Billy, would you just get in please, so we can go to sleep.” You press, turning the light off with one last expectant glance in his direction. Billy takes his jeans off as they’re still damp from the wet grass, before sliding under the covers, body taut and on alert keeping himself to the furthest edge of the bed.

“Do I smell?” You ask quietly but he can tell you’re teasing, he feels you shift onto your side so you’re facing him. “Billy, I know we only met like an hour ago, but if you ever need a place to stay - away from the shit - you only need to ask.” Voice completely sincere.

He rolls over to face you in the dark, hand searching for yours in unspoken thanks, he expects you to pull away but you only return his grip, thumb tracing along his own.

“Goodnight Billy.” You whisper.

“Goodnight sunshine.”

[valhallaas]

Lovin’ Touchin’ Squeezin’

pairing: jake hangman seresin x sunshine!reader

word count: 2.9k

summary: there’s been a hangman hole missing in your heart, maybe a rowdy night at the Hard Deck can make it all better. Or maybe make it worse.

a/n: i think she did it. part two?! will there be a follow up? bradley, Jake’s coming for your girl…quite literally 😂 anyway, i hope y’all enjoy it! feedback is always appreciated!

Three glasses sit on the table. One water, two rum and cokes. You’re not much for drinking and don’t understand why Rooster keeps bringing them to you. Your smile feels fake when you flash it to him, watching as he sets a third one in front of you. Maybe he’s hoping you’ll cave. If that’s the case, he really doesn’t know you at all. Which is really upsetting in the scheme of things. It can’t really be blamed on the drinks, or Rooster—because he does try.

Things haven’t been the same. Lifting your gaze from the taunting drink, your gaze slides past Rooster playing pool with Phoenix and settles on the familiar blonde who hasn’t been so familiar as of late. Your gaze is searing, you can tell he feels it by the way Jake’s spine stiffens. The subtle turn of his head in your direction. Acknowledging you without giving you his full attention.

Pouting, your head falls against Bob’s shoulder. Your rum and coke will go flat just like the other two did. Sitting there dripping condensation next to Bob’s water. You’ve got one of his hands resting in your lap as you fiddle with his fingers. Everyone’s out tonight celebrating. You of all people should be the life of the party, you’ve finally been placed on the elite dagger squad.

“He still isn’t talking to you?” Bob’s soft voice reaches you.

“No.”

“What happened?”

You shrug. “I don’t know.”

That’s a lie. You have somewhat of an idea of what happened. Casting your eyes back to Bradley, he’s leaning against the pool watching you openly long for another man. A couple months ago, you had caught Bradley and Jake talking. Or, more like Bradley had Jake backed into a corner, the blonde had steam pouring out of his ears. You don’t know what was said, only that Jake hasn’t been the same. He’s kept his distance. Talking to you if he has to, avoiding you if he can.

If you want her happy, let me make her happy. The words replay in his mind over and over. As if Jake couldn’t make you happy. He certainly wouldn’t leave you sitting with Bob, you’re pretty red lips sitting in a pout when you should be celebrating. Fuck, all he wants is for you to be happy. That’s why he walked away. Rooster is who you want. You have him. It doesn’t matter if the thought makes his blood boil. It doesn’t matter that he can’t go to sleep at night without thinking of that night. Your dress flaring out as he danced with you around the bar. How soft your lip felt against his thumb as he smeared the pretty color that painted it.

But he cannot deal with the way you look at him. The way your eyes linger, how they follow him across the room. The fucking pout on your cherry painted lips that seems to never leave. He can’t fucking take it. He’s playing darts with Javy, ignoring you. Trying to, at least. It’s only a few seconds that you give him some peace, your burning stare moved elsewhere. It’s killing him, and he knows without a shadow of a doubt it’s breaking you in two. There’s nothing he wants more than to pop Rooster in his caterpillar covered mouth. Glancing over at Rooster, he sees him staring at you. Watching you looking at Jake in longing. The guy has to know it’s his fault. He’s the one who told him to back up. It makes his ego soar either way, having your endless attention. You were the definition of his perfect girl, and to know that despite you belonging to another, you still desperately wanted him in any way possible, Jake smirks before looking away. His focus back on the dart board just in time.

You want your best friend back. There is a Jake shaped hole missing and you hate it. Makes you act up. You huff when Javy catches your eye, giving you a bright smile. He knows he's not who you’ve been staring at. Biting your lip, you run a thumb over the bright color of your lip. You wonder if Jake knew you put it on for him. His favorite color on you, always complimented you when you wore it. Never failed to poke the scar above your lip, saying it gave you a Marilyn quality.

It’s a bad idea. It’s a very good idea.

Slowly you stand from your seat, Bob watching you with raised eyebrows. Others are watching you too, but you keep your eyes straight ahead of you as you walk. Your hands shake, fingers trailing over the buttons of the jukebox. Swallowing thickly, you flick through the songs with a particular one in mind. You’re going to end up on top of a table, and it’s only slightly embarrassing because you’re stone cold sober.

You’re fairly confident that Penny won’t mind. But, you’re also sure that a raging pilot will carry you off before she can make her way to you.

Pushing the buttons, you twirl, making your way back to the group. The clacking of pool balls clashes with the opening notes of the song. Eyes closed, your fingers fiddle with the hem of your dress. There’s no one else, there’s no else. No one else is paying attention to you. What’s that one saying in every white lady’s living room? Dance like no one’s watching? The singer's voice croons out and your hips sway. Anybody who knows you knows how much you love this song. And you fucking love this song. It doesn’t take long before you’re losing yourself. The lyrics make their way past your lips. Hoots and sharp whistles are blending into the melody from the crowd.

You have to let go. It’s now or never.

Somehow Bob knows what’s going through your head. The table has been cleared off, and being the gentleman he is, he holds out his arm to help your dumbass up on the table. You flash him a smile in thanks, he only shakes his head in return. Hips swaying, your fingertips tickle the tops of your thighs. The drag of your hands lifting your dress higher and higher before dropping it back down. Head fallen back, the lyrics sinking into your skin. No, you aren’t aware of your surroundings. Not the shocked expressions of your friends, the way Bradley’s jaw dropped, or the way the muscle twitches in Jake’s jaw from clenching his teeth. You’re only up there for maybe a full minute before you're being carried off. Hoots and hollers following the roar of your heartbeat in your ears. You can tell by the hand wrapped around your thigh that it isn’t Rooster who has you. Tilting your head up, you see him still at the pool table, watching Hangman carry you away. You don’t miss his wink, and you blow a kiss his way.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He says, a bite to his words when he drops you on your feet out back.

You can’t help but pout, bottom lip slightly wobbling at his tone. It’s been months and this is how he talks to you? You don’t say anything. Simply turning, kicking off your sandals and making your way to the sand. The moon bounces off the water, dancing with the wind as it tangles itself in your hair. Sea salt sticks to your skin. You’ve never felt so defeated before. You embarrassed yourself, and for what? To get scolded like a little girl.

“So fucking stupid, Sunny.”

No one else calls you that. Only Jake. You kind of hate how it's stuck, you’ve even started calling yourself that. You pause, groaning as you tug at the roots of your hair. You got his attention, but this isn’t what you wanted. A warm hand on your elbow makes you jump. A small gasp escapes as you turn to face Jake. You glare at his sheepish expression.

“Can I help you?” You snap. “Hmm? Come to yell some more?”

“I didn’t mean to yell—”

“Yeah you did,”

Jake runs a hand over his face. “Sunny. You can’t just do—”

“I can do whatever the fuck I want, Seresin. No one cares. No one but you.” You step away from him, closer to the water. “Who are you to stop me anyway? You haven’t talked to me in months.” He can’t argue with you. Can tell that he doesn’t want to. You sigh. “What do you want?”

He doesn’t say it. You. I want you. It rings out in the silence between you getting lost in the distant waves. You want him too. It’s not like you were hiding it. That’s why he picked you up and carried you away. You had been putting on a show for him. He had you all to himself now, but it seems like you're still on the wrong foot. It makes you ache. If there's one person who always got you, who never had to try, it was Jake.

You don’t say a thing, simply turn towards the water and peele your dress off. You’re naked underneath, biting back a smirk upon hearing Jake’s mumbled curses, you run towards the water. It takes your breath away. The waves crash against you, digging their fingers in, holding tight, reluctant to let go. You turn to face the shore, seeing Jake standing there with his hands on his hips staring at you. You giggle, the sound too light to reach him, but you can tell by the shake of his head he knows you're smiling.

“What are you doing, Sunshine?”

“Putting on a show. I’ve been told I’m good at it.”

“I’d say so.”

You move in closer, staying low in the water. It seems like you’re both waiting for the other to make a move. You know that this time around it’s his move to make. You sigh in defeat. Stupid. It had been a stupid idea from the start.

“Fine.” You say, eyes watering, voice cracking. “You don’t want me, it’s fine. Just know I miss you, okay? I can’t take it anymore, Jake. I can’t take missing you like this.”

He doesn't try to hide his stare as you walk out of the water. Snatching your dress from his hands you pull it over you and beeline for the parking lot. You had left your phone in Rooster’s truck. You needed out of here. He watches you walk away. But he can’t do it a second time.

You pause when you hear him say your name. Not Sunshine, not Sunny. Your name. It makes you breakout in goosebumps.

“Not again, Sunny girl.” His voice is thick with want.

You’re shoved backwards, shoulders slamming against the side of the Branco causing you to hiss. Fingers trail up your thighs before digging into the muscle, fingers splayed across your skin before he lifts you up off your feet. Instantly, your legs are wrapping around his waist, the skirt of your dress bunched up at your hips. Deft fingers hastily undoing his pants. No clumsiness, you aren’t unsure, there is no heistance. It’s in that moment that you look up over his shoulder, glazed over eyes meeting him in the mirror. He looks like the goddamn devil. He wants to tear you apart from the inside out.

Fucking hell, he’s going to take you against Rooster’s truck. You’re sure he won’t mind. Maybe. Out in the open where anyone can see, the ocean breeze dusting sea salt along your exposed skin. You’re sticky, still wet from your dip in the water, making you cling to Jake’s uniform.

The sound of his belt buckle hitting the floor pulls you back in. Glancing down, your teeth dig into your lip at the sight of him. He’s hot, a pulsing red as he sits heavy between you. He lifts your face so he can meet your eye. You give a hasty nod before he’s pushing into you. You glance down again, heat hitting your cheeks when you remember your underwear is sitting snug in Rooster’s pocket. Easy access, he told you. Not for him, obviously. There is nothing small about Jake. He’s big, and thick, and he has your eyes rolling towards the back of your head. The head of his cock snags at your entrance, you breathe in nice and slow, using his shoulders to lift yourself up before resting back down, swallowing him as you do.

“Jesus Christ,” You moan as his hips roll into yours. It’s better than you can imagine. It’s euphoric. You’d given him the opening, and he took it.

“Jake,” you whine, forehead nestling in against his neck and shoulder.

Jake nods. This was a long time coming. He knows. He knows you need this as much as he does. You're clinging to him, cunt clenching around him like he’d slip free at any moment. He groans when your teeth dig into his shoulder right where it meets his neck. His thrusts are slow and steady, building a fire inside of you. Your head falls back against the truck, eyes opening to watch. You grin lazily when you see him watching you. You draw back, hips moving in a smooth tempo. You hit a good rhythm, letting yourself move with him. It had never been like this with anyone else. It's different with Bradley. But you didn’t want to think about him. Just Jake, all Jake. Easy, full of complete desire and lust, not just a means to an end. You’re almost where he wants you. He meets your gaze and his eyes hold something akin to mischief. You clench around him and he groans. He thrusts up a little harder than before, causing your head to fall back.

“I’ve missed you, Sunshine.”

You watch each other, a breath apart as you take what he gives you. His hand slides up your front, warm fingers wrapping gingerly around your throat. Your breath catches as he muffles out a curse, his other hand lifts one of your legs higher on his hip so he can reach a deeper angle. His pace quickens, his thrusts are harsher. You’re loving every minute of it. Flexing your cunt, your lower muscles bear down as you grip him. He groans, the sound booming in the tight small space.

There’s pleasure coiling behind your pussy. “Jake, I—”

“What do you need, Sunny?”

“Jake,” You whine, pulling on his hair. “Please, daddy, please. I can’t—I need you—.”

His gaze drops from your face to where he’s burying himself in your tight cunt. He nods before lifting his eyes. “I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.”

You flash him a grin and he jolts, his cock twitching deep. You cling to him, desperate and a little dizzy. You moan, he’s so big and you’re so fucking full. He fills you up completely, cock dragging against your walls. You love every minute of it.

Your orgasm takes you by surprise. You lurch against him as a whimper escapes. You lean back against the truck, head hitting the window, boneless. You’re lost in the feel of the pleasure, your gaze watching as he pounds into you. His grip is tight, and a little desperate. You’re loose and wet and fucking perfect. His nose presses into your cheek as he grinds into you.

“I love the way you feel when you’re coming on my cock. Can’t tell you how often I’ve dreamed of the feeling, sweetheart.”

You laugh, wrapping your arms around him. Steady pants and grunts are heavy in your ear. It’s a brutal taking, and you are not wet enough. Tears pool in your eyes, threatening to fall with every harsh thrust. You feel him shift his weight, delivering a sharper thrust that nearly has you sliding up the side. He mumbles apology but his grasp on your waist is unforgivable. You’re bouncing on his cock now, meeting his every thrust. He’s deep, so deep you’re surprised you can’t taste him. You pull his hair, grinning when he hisses.

“Are you going to come for me again?” he asks, practically coos into your ear. “You look so pretty when you do, Sunshine.”

You can’t talk. He knows you’re fucked out, gone stupid on his cock. You asked for it, you know you did with your little performance earlier. But you don’t regret it. You shift, opening up your legs a little wider. He groans feeling himself sink deeper into you. You’re swollen and raw and you’re living for it. Nodding, his name falls from your lips, breathless—he’s sending you cloud nine and you aren’t ever coming back down.

It’s like a volcano, jolting you, overflowing and hot. A scream ripped from your throat and your nails digging into him so hard you can feel when he starts to bleed. Jake is right there. He holds you into place, lips kissing your cheeks. He fucks you through it, jamming himself into your searing overstimulated sex, he meets his end. His grip tightens, a low groan comes from deep in his chest, filling you up. Shuddering he falls into you, keeping you pinned between him and the wall as he gasps for air.

“Holy shit,” he mutters, breaking the silence.

You fall forward, hugging him tightly to you. You were drunk off of him. There isn’t anyway, ain’t no how he was getting rid of you now. You’re aching and sore but you refuse to move away from him. His eyes are still dark and heavy-lidded as he regards you. You give him a soft smile, a hand pushing his hair back.

“You’re a lot of trouble, Sunny girl.”

You lean forward. Running your thumb along his lip, your lipstick coming off on it. You stare at it for a moment before looking up at him, a deviant grin taking up your face.

“Oh, Hangman. You’ve no idea.”

part one

part three

[mspiggy]

what if the Pop Trolls DID take over? (aka Troll Nation AU)

(inspired a widdle bit by game of thrones, more by all the time i've spent playing crusader kings, and all in service of a parb arranged marriage lmao... i have been working on this for three and a half years so be nice uwu)

the premise is this: the Pop trolls successfully retained control of all six strings, making them the defacto rulers of all the troll kingdoms. the Bergens were never a threat to the Pop trolls as a result, due to the powerful magic of the strings being an effective deterrant.

after a few years of revolts and unsuccessful attempts to unseat the pop trolls, treaties were drawn up determining the rights and obligations of the newly-declared Troll Nation's constituent states.

to assist in balancing the influence and power of the six core genres, the Imperial House of Pop uses the six strings (set in the "Harp of Harmony") in a ceremony that takes place once every ten years, to select the "Sound of the Decade." for example, the sound of the decade before Poppy born was Pop, Funk, and Techno; as a result, Funk and Techno enjoyed preferential treatment as compared to the Rock, Country, and Classical trolls. (this is also my reason for Cooper to still grow up in the Pop Kingdom; he was a ward sent by his parents to ensure Funk remained more or less free of excessive Pop control).

in "the present day," troll nation is led by Queen Viva of the house of pop. her younger sister Princess Poppy is her heir apparent. she rules over a troll nation wracked by the stirrings of revolution. Sheriff Delta Dawn of Lonesome Flats seems to be threatening secession from Troll Nation following the unauthorized execution of a Pop troll by a Country posse, an act easily construed as outright aggressive.

Pop trolls live in the Troll Tree, officially dubbed Trolltreetropolis but often referred to as Pop City or Pop Central. it's a little metropolitan wonder, where the most famous and powerful trolls live.

Funk trolls remain in Vibe City; their contact with the other troll kingdoms means there is a much higher level of technology throughout Troll Nation, leading to troll mass media, troll cell phones, troll internet... centered around the Troll Tree, of course!

Rock trolls are led in name only by King Thrash, who is held up by a series of Pop-appointed advisors. his coolest daughter, Princess Barb, assists him in his daily duties as ruler and has big plans for the throne, once she takes it. Rock trolls typically roam around their territory in their bands, a little like the Mongols of Earth history. a schism between Soft and Hard Rock took place some centuries ago, leading to Soft Rock trolls to mostly occupy land at the border between Rock and Pop.

it has been over 25 years since Rock has been in favor, with Viva's most recent Sound of the Decade favoring Techno and Funk again. fortunately for Barb, she's spent a lot of time reading the ancient treaties over the course of her many tours. through reading these old legal documents, she's discovered a clause to ensure Rock never falls out of favor for too long:

if Rock is not selected as part of the Sound of the Decade for more than 25 years, an alliance must be made through the marriage of the Rock monarch's heir to a member of the Imperial House of Pop. lucky for Barb, after the expulsion of her shitty brother Bash and his band The Party Crashers (WINK WINK~) for selling intel to the Pop trolls, Barb became the heir apparent of the Rock Kingdom.

tell me if you wanna hear more tbh! i'm obsessed with this au enough that i came up with three weed-smoking girlfriends "groupies" for Barb (Rock trolls are definitely polygamous) and adapted Bash from The Beat Goes On into a Rock troll sibling for Barb to compete with...

[elains]

Is CC3 bad? I’ve heard it’s not very good at all

It all depends on perspective of who is reading, I believe. I would say that if you loved HOSAB and HOEAB, there's a chance you could genuinely like HOFAS too. But my objective opinion is that the book is not great and falls short on many points

Some more spoilers and the TLDR below.

The first half of this book drags. Sure, there are things happening, but my general impression reading is that it was slow-paced, dragging, and rather awkward. We get some gratuitous torture porn to see how sadistic Pollux and the Hawk are, the Frat Boys are going around and want to get Ruhn out. In all fairness, having so many PoVs and where they cut was sometimes a problem to me: something exciting was about to happen, then cut to a section which was comparatively boring and then more pages until I got my resolution.

The Crossover is CRIMINAL. Anon, I'm a lore girl at heart. I was super looking forward to what it would reveal of Prythian's past, of what happened to Fionn, Theia, the Daglan. Nesta and Azriel are easily the highlight of it, their interactions where the breath of fresh air in what was otherwise a slog to get through. The Crossover is one single HUGE loredump and you know what's more? By the end of it you ask "And this needed to be a Crossover why exactly?".

There's nothing there that couldn't be learned from the Midgard or the Prythian. I kinda think SJMs ran into a corner by ending HOSAB as she did. It feels as though the crossover was meant to be bigger, but it fell flat, and she had to course-correct. To be honest, it was a bit of a chore to get through these parts.

Bryce is also a personal problem to me because I cannot just connect with her. I would have liked much better if more of her human side was explored, rather than the fae, as the humans are the most oppressed and have it worst here. I don't know, her desire for change and everything feels shallow. Hollow. As if she would never have gone down this path had Danika not died — and I could accept that, if I thought it wasn't framed for me to think of her as heroic and not a hypocrite. There IS such a thing as too much girlboss.

Ruhn and Lidia are the highlight of this book for me. I love them in HOSAB, I love them in this one despite some things coming right out of left field lol. Still! Definitely the two characters I enjoyed most.

I know Sarah wanted to try to tackle some big social issues but look. Would you get if I say that the girlboss slips into it? The way she handles these topics, the tone of them, doesn't land right for me. Someone shouting words of change and order, but look a little more closely, dig a little, question, and it's just superficial. In your face, with not the appropriate nuance. Bryce's general attitude does not help.

Oh and there's one hell of a cliche in the end that had me ROLLING MY EYES. Unnecessary. The resolution also feels rushed to me and there are things that I just stared blankly at the book "Is this for real?". Once again, I think she raised the stakes waaaaay too high and the resolution doesn't match them, the same issue I had acowar.

All in all, this book was a let down from HOSAB.