#i think i felt every single spank she got herself in my BONES

[holycrapharry]

The Girl on the Left

Another night in. My life is always a night in. Why does the takeout guy ask me if it’s for two? I can’t be ordering that much. Finally, I hate this elevator. “Oh wait! Can you hold it?” Does she live here too? “Thank you so much. I was gonna have to wait forever for this thing to come back down again.” She’s gorgeous.

“No problem. What floor?” She smells like cookies.

“Three, please.” That’s my floor. Why haven’t I seen her? I definitely would’ve remembered, especially with an ass like that. Don’t think with your dick, Harry. *ding* “Oh you live on three, too? That’s so funny. What’s your name?” Don’t blow it.

“Harry. I’m Harry.” I bet her name is something cute. Her hand is soft. I’m glad she wanted to shake.

“Well, I’m y/n. Nice to actually talk to someone who lives here. Like your accent”. I wish she would’ve stayed. I don’t mind watching her walk down the hall. I hope she doesn’t think I’m following her. No way does she live beside me. No way that she’s the girl on the left. The girl who I can hear through the wall. The girl I can hear moan when she’s alone. The moans that drive me to jack myself off.

more

“This is kind of strange. I didn’t know you were my neighbor…” She’s laughing,

“Oh my gosh! You’re the one who’s watching Chopped every Friday night! This is gonna sound weird, but I watch it with you.” Why is she home on a Friday night? She’s far too hot to be single.

“It’s not weird. It’s a good show.” I think we’re both smiling at each other. It’s awkward. “Well, until next time.” I could’ve been smoother.

Y/n. I like her name. And I like how she said mine. She’s got the nicest eyes and her lips looked so soft. I can’t believe she’s the girl on the left. I wish I could hear the softest of moans. I wish I could hear her say, ‘Harry, Harry, Harry. Right there’. I need to snap out of it.

“Ohh.” I’ve lost track of time. “Ohhhh.” Fuck. She’s doing it. How is she so loud? That soft voice, making these dirty noises. It gets me harder than before. Knowing what she looks like has made it somewhat real. I can see her hands touch herself all over and her ass raising off the bed. I’m already hard. She’s gotten a head start. I bet she would know how to play with me, oh I bet she’s the type to sit on your face. Mm. Yeah. Y/n sitting on my face. “Oh. Oh god.” I would love it. Shit, this feels good. She sounds so good. I bet she plays with her tits. Tugs on her nipples. I wanna bite them. “Fuck, Harry.” Oh, my god. She’s using me. I’m fucking her and she’s fucking me. Say my name. Please say it again. “Right there.” She’s close. So am I. Say it. Say it. Who’s fucking you? “Yeah. Mmm, Harry” Fuck that’s what I needed. That’s it. Ugh. That girl is going kill me. I’m still hard and I bet she’s still wet. I want to clean her. I want to fuck her. I don’t care if we’ve just met. I want her to come for me by my hand, not hers. I’m going over. I’m going to give it my best shot. Open the door. I know your home. I know you’re there.

“Oh, hey. What’s a…what’s up?” She looks wild. Her hair is all frizzy and her mascara is a little smudged. I love it.

“Why are you alone tonight?” She’s so beautiful and anyone would be proud to please her.

“What?” I hope I didn’t offend her. I just don’t understand why she’s alone.

“Can I come in?” She’s ushered me into her home. It’s cozy. I smell snickerdoodle.

“How did you know I was alone?” I can’t help but stare at her. Don’t blurt it out. Don’t be weird.

“Because I can hear you.” Look up. Look up to check if she’s not calling the cops or ran out the door. Oh. She’s looking at me. “I’m sorry, I, um…”

“You can hear me? Like, you can hear me? Oh my god…” She looks positively red. Shit. She still looks so cute in her little jammies. I like her cat socks. Does she do it in her socks? Focus Harry.

“Um, I just needed to tell you. It drives me wild and I don’t-” She walking closer to me.

“It drives you wild?” She’s right in front of me. I didn’t notice she was this much shorter. “So you heard me tonight?

“Yes.” I can’t even hesitate. We both know why I really came here. I need it and so does she. “You watch chopped with me, I get off with you.” She’s biting her lip. Jesus Christ. Please come here. Please come to me. I’m dying.

“You thought of me?” I tell her that I did today, and I will tomorrow. She asked me what I thought about. I can’t tell her that. “Tell me Harry, tell me what you thought about.” She’s got her hand on my arm and her touch is so delicate. The same touch that gets her off.

“I heard you moan and I thought about watching you. How your hand looked when you were touching yourself. Then I thought about what you would do in bed, would let me touch you, how you would you want me to. I thought that you might be the type to, um, sit on my face.” She’s brought my hand to her face, she warm and her skin is soft. Oh, she’s biting my thumb. I should’ve worn looser jeans.

“I could be if that’s what you wanted.” My thumb is completely in her mouth and my dick is screaming to be let out. “Hmm? Is that what you want?” I didn’t think of her has this kind of girl. I pegged her to be dominating and to get it how she wants.

“Is that what you thought about? Doing as I say? You wanna obey me, be a good girl for me?” Her eyes have gotten big and her mouth has stopped playing with my thumb. “I think that’s what you want. Y/n, you can be good for me any night of the week.”

“Can I be a good girl for you tonight?” She has that pout down. I can’t help but smile, she’s so eager.

“That’s up to you now isn’t it, baby?” Her arms have wrapped around my neck and her nose has nuzzled into my ear. Her chest is against me and I know she can feel hard I am. She even whines before speaking.

“I like when you say that. I like how you sound.” All of her little ear nibbles are killing me. She’s a good girl in many different ways.

“Take me to your room. Show me where you were.” She shows me her bed. Soft and full of white fluffy blankets. I lay her down on them and kiss her slowly. Her mouth tastes so good. I want to fuck her, but she’s worth the wait. What is it about her? Why am I so smooth with her? She began to wiggle her hips. Don’t rub your dick on her. Kiss her, savor it. “You know, you smell like cookies and your lips tastes like sugar. What does the rest of you taste like?” She has no response, she whimpers. I kiss down her neck and suck at her collar bones. Her nipples feel good against my tongue. She likes this. Yes, moan for me. “I love that sound.” She’s giggling at me. “I love that sound.” She’s smiling. I make my way back up to her neck, her hair is still so wild. I want to feel how wet she is. “I want you to take your clothes off, can you do that for me?” She’s doing it. Her body is marvelous. Her ass is bouncy and full. I’ll put that to use later. “Lie back down for me, love.” Her body is so close to mine. I can’t believe I’m here. “You want me to touch you?”

“Yes. Yes, please.” She’s covered in goosebumps. She’s moaning into my mouth. I could breathe her in every second of the day. Her legs are pressed so tight together. “If you don’t want me to, I don’t have to.” Oh, that’s it. She’s so wet for me.

“No, I’m just kind of nervous.” I kiss her and rub her clit.

“No reason to be nervous, let me make you feel good. Let me hear you.” I slip two fingers in and she’s already singing for me. I put my mouth to her ear, giving her words of encouragement. “You sound so good. A good girl, yeah? Tell me what you want, show me how good you can be.” She shuffles in the bed and kisses me. She kisses me with hunger and determination.

“I want your mouth.” She wants me to eat her and I can’t get down her body fast enough. Her pussy is wet and the warmth puddles on my tongue. Her body is shaking from the contact. Her clit is sensitive, passing it with my tongue makes her gasp for air.

“Give me your hand, show me how you touch yourself.” She starts slow, her technique is captivating. She spreads herself with one hand and rubs herself with another. Her actions are short-lived. I move her hands out of the way, holding them to her sides, then dip my head down. I eat her feverishly, licking and sucking. This is what she sounds like through the walls. I love it, but I want to make her scream. I get off the bed and undress. She’s resting on her elbows as she watches me. “Do you like to be on the top or the bottom?”

“I’ll be wherever you want.” She really is a good girl.

“Get on top of me.” I sigh as she sinks down on me. I hold her close to my chest and her hands are in my hair. “You’re such a good girl, baby. I want you to hold onto my shoulders and ride me until your legs hurt. Use me to make yourself come.” Her small hands grip my shoulders and she wastes no time. Her pussy has engulfed my cock and her chest is right in my face.

“You feel so fucking good, Oh my god.” The last time I checked, ‘Good girls’ don’t curse. I spank her and she juts forward and groans. “Mmmph. Harry.”

“I thought you were a good girl? Do good little girls say curse words? Apologize, y/n.” She does so but in only a few minutes’ curses under her breath. I slap her ass once more and she yells out my name. I flip her on her back and give her all I have. “Being on top is a privilege,” her hands try to find something to grab onto so I hold her arms down, she moans at my actions and tries to push herself even closer to me. “All of the nights I heard you fucking yourself, I wondered if I could get you louder. I think I can.” I know I can, she’s whimpering and yelling every time I hit hat spot.

“Harry, I’m gonna come. I’m gonna come.” I can feel her pulse around me. I let her arms tree and my hands land on her hips. I pound into her until she can no longer make sense of things and don’t let up until I’m coming. Shit. I’ve never felt so good. When I pull out of her she points at the trash can at the corner of her room. On my way back to her bed I see her full body again. I could stay here all night.

“This is not how I thought my night would end.” She gets closer to me, her nose touching mine. I give he small kisses and hold her by her hip. “So, what now, love?”

“Well, we can always go to yours and watch chopped.” The girl on the left is by far, the best neighbor I’ve ever had.

[ladywinchester1967]

Red Bottoms

Title: Red Bottoms

Links: AO3 & WattPad

Square Filled: Shoe Kink

Rating: E for Explicit

Tags: Barely a plot in sight, oral (female receiving), spanking, fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), this is a work of FICTION (don’t @ me; his wife and children are lovely) we’ll pretend Jensen is single. Unbeta’d, all mistakes are mine, PICS ARE NOT. **Special shout out to my sister who helped me pick out this character’s outfit!!** 

Created for: @spnkinkbingo

She was shameless and she knew it, she knew she looked good tonight, wearing a black shirt with flowing sleeves, a short back and white skirt, tall black boots with scarlet red soles, getting his attention had been easier than she'd thought it would be.

In truth, their mutual friend, Rob Benedict, had set them up. This was their first meeting since following each other on Instagram, and Jensen Ackles was every bit as sweet and charming as Rob said he was. By now, she was done with the flirting, she knew what she wanted and he seemed ready and willing, so she took the plunge.

“You wanna?” She asked in his ear and nodded out of the door.

He grinned and nodded

“If you want to, I’m down.” He said.

“I do.” She told him and reached for his hand, which he took.

After some creative maneuvering, they managed to get out of the party without being noticed. Dawn arrived at her room before Jensen did and tried to tidy up a little bit before a knock came at her door. She rushed over and opened it to see him standing there, smiling.

“Hey,” She told him “come on in.”

He nodded and did so, crossing the threshold as she closed the door behind him. She turned to see him standing closer to her than she would’ve figured, but she was smiling as widely as he was.

“You’re sure?” He asked as he reluctantly reached for her. She laced her fingers through his and said

“Completely sure.” She told him. He stepped closer and she let both of her hands slide up his wide forearms, then his biceps and shoulders. She laced her hands together on the back of his neck and pulled him closer so that his face was inches from hers. He leaned forward and kissed her, his full lips on hers as she gasped, surprised by the kiss. She opened her mouth and kissed him again, her fingers slid through the short hairs on the back of his head as he pressed his hips into hers, his hands flat on the door behind her.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” He said as his mouth explored her neck and collar bone, his hand sliding up the inside of her thigh. She slowly guided his hand upward until his fingers traced the waistband of her panties. She pulled the panties down and off, kicking them to the side as he mischievously grinned. She opened her legs a little wider to accommodate his large hand as he dipped the tips of his middle and forefinger into her entrance. “Mh, you’re getting all wet for me aren’t you?” He asked

“Fuck,” she moaned as they kissed again “all I can think about is sitting on that handsome face.”

He chuckled and said

“I think we can make that happen, as long as you keep those boots on.”

“You got it.” She told him.

He gathered some of her arousal on his fingers and opened up her lower lips, sliding his thick fingers inside her and making her gasp. “Fuck, oh fuck!” She moaned as she arched her back and moved her hips in tandem with his fingers as he thrust in and out of her with them. His thumb swiped across her clit and began to work the bundle of nerves in a fast circle. She spread her legs wider as she felt more arousal began to drip out of her core as she moaned louder.

“Mh, you sound fucking good when you moan,” he said as his teeth scraped the shell of her ear “you like this sweetheart?”

“Yes!” She gasped “Oh fuck, that feels amazing!”

He pushed his fingers deeper into her, finding just the right spot inside her that made her eyes roll into the back of her head.

“Yes, oh yes! YES!” She cried, the tight coil in her belly tightening harder and harder the faster he worked her.

“That’s it,” he said, grinding his hardened cock into her thigh. She was flushed from the chest up, her mouth was open as she cried out for him, god and incoherently as she got wound tighter and tighter. “Gonna come for me sweetheart?” He growled in her ear.

“Fuck yes,” she moaned as she dug her nails into his shoulders “fuck yes I am!”

“Come right now,” he demanded as he struck true with his fingers, nailing her sweet spot as her eyes rolled back in her head and she fell apart against the door. He pulled his fingers out of her and sucked her arousal off his fingers, grinning. “You taste like a dream.”

“You want some more?” She asked as she fumbled with the zipper on her skirt.

He licked his lips as her skirt joined her underwear on the floor.

“Hell yeah.” He said with a smirk.

They walked over to the bed, hand in hand and once they arrived, he wrapped her up into his arms and kissed her deeply, his fingers burying into her back. She took his shirt off and tossed it aside before doing the same thing to herself. Left in her bra and the boots, she looked like she’d walked right out of a wet dream.

“Fuck sweetheart,” he said as he unhooked her bra and tossed it aside “you’re gonna fucking kill me.”

“We can’t have that now can we?” She asked as she pushed him on to the bed, crawled up his body and straddled his hips. She unbuckled his belt as he kicked off his shoes and socks. She was just reaching for the button on his jeans when he pulled her up so that her core was lined up with his face. He licked his sinfully full lips and then brought her closer to his mouth, his tongue winding through her silky folds. She threw her head back and moaned, her fingers sliding through his dark hair. He pulled her closer as he devoured her, like a starving man, burying his face in between her legs as she let out hard and fast cries and moans of his name.

“Oh fuck!” She cried “fuck me, oh god, fuck me Jensen please!”

He squeezed the flesh of her ass and gave it a healthy smack, making her cry out as she rode his face with abandon, her hips furiously rocking. She couldn’t formulate words any more, it was just cries of pleasure and her back arching as he smacked her ass again. She let out a scream as she gushed on to his face, obscene slurps coming from his as he swallowed everything she had to give him. He hummed in appreciation as she rolled off of him and laid on her back. He licked his lips as he snaked up her body, kissing and biting her skin as she moaned for him.

“Jensen, Jensen!” She breathed as he threw both of her legs over his shoulders.

“Been wanting these around my ears all night.” He said as he caressed her boot covered leg, his eyes gleaming with desire.

“Come and get it handsome,” she challenged him “and I’ll have these around anything you want.”

He kissed up her belly as he undid his pants and kicked them off along with his boxers. Once he was naked, he plunged deep inside her, making both of them hiss in pleasure as he folded her up.

“Oh god! God!” She yelled as he thrust hard into her.

“So fucking tight!” He yelled as he fought to keep his pace steady, she felt incredible.

“Jensen, oh Jesus, JENSEN!” She yelled as she raked her nails down his back, making him let out a lust filled cry.

“That’s it,” he growled “mark up my back sweetheart.”

He unrolled her and yanked her up into his lap. She straddled him and sunk back on top of him and wrapped her legs around his waist, the cool leather of her boots giving some relief to his over heated skin.

“Fuck yes,” he moaned as they kissed “fucking ride me just like that.”

“You like that huh?” She asked as she tugged on his hair, making him look up at her, his bottle green eyes nearly black with lust.

“Fuck yes.” He said and seared a kiss on to her lips. She gave his bottom lip a playful bite and he growled into her mouth. “Get up and bend over the bed.” She did as he commanded and he came up behind her, running his hands up and down her legs. “So fucking sexy.” He said as he marveled at his handiwork. Her ass had two bright red hand prints on it, her scarlet red lipstick was totally ruined and her chest was heaving with desire. “What should I do with you?” He asked, as if he didn’t all ready know.

“Fuck me,” she begged “please fuck me!”

“Mh, I like the sound of that” he said as he lined his cock up with her entrance. He sank deep into her, both of them crying out as he slammed into her, the sound of their skin slapping together filling the room with their cries of lust. She cried out and clenched around him as he bent over, his chest against her back. He gripped her hip and shoulder as he fucked her hard.

“Yes, oh fuck, Jensen just like that!” She yelled.

“You gonna come for me?” He asked in her ear “You gonna fucking soak me again?”

“Yes!” She cried “Yes, please! I wanna come, please let me come!”

He tilted her head to the side and kissed her.

“Come for me sweetheart, give it all to me.” He growled against her lips.

With one last clench, she let go, milking his cock for all it was worth as he let go deep inside of her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Hope you guys enjoyed that!! My sister and I had a blast picking out the outfit the character is wearing, without her I really have to clue what this character would be wearing.....if she’d be wearing anything at all!!

As usual, your kind feedback is DEEPLY loved and appreciated!! Feel free to like and share with your friends, and please hit that follow button if you wanna see more content from me!! All my boxes and tag lists are open so if you want to get on any of them, let me know!

​The Squad:

@waywardbaby​​​​​​​​ @waywardnerd67​​​​​​​​ @familybusinesswritingbro​​​​​​​​ @ain-t-bovvered​​​​​​​​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​​​​​​​​ @unholyqu33n​​​​​​​�� @dacleverfox​​​​​​​​ @emoryhemsworth​​​​​​​​ @bobasheebaby​​​​​​​ @myinconnelly1​​​​​​​​ @mogaruke​​​​​​​​ @imma-winchester-addict​​​​​​​​​ @purpleskiesandcherrypies​​​​​​​​ @dean-winchesters-bacon​​​​​​​​ @animerose96​​​​​​​​​  @roonyxx​​​​​​​​​ @snffbeebee​​​​​​​​​ @ezilyamuzed​​​​​​​​​ @srsllydunnodoncare​​​​​​​​​ @latetothewinchesterparty​​​​​​​​​ @emilyshurley​​​​​​​​​ @atc74​​​​​​​​​ @midnightsilverafterdark​​​​​​​​​ @adoptdontshoppets​​​​​​​​​ @biawol​​​​​​​​​  @spaceystacey123​​​​​​​​​ @bella-ca​​​​​​​​​ @clo-heda​​​​​​​​​ @closetspngirl​​​​​​​​​ @thekatherinewinchester​​​​​​​​​ @maddiepants​​​​​​​​​ @idreamofplaid​​​​​​​​ @love-those-boys-in-flannel​​​​​​​ @flamencodiva​​​​​​​ @blueberrykushlovexoxo-blog​​​​​ @sandlee44​​​​​ @tumbler-tidbits​​​ @rainbowsinthestorm @deans-baby-momma​​ @algud​ @maui137

Dean/ Jensen:

@spnbaby-67​​ @akshi8278​​ @deanscarlett​​​​​ 

[peachyteabuck]

across a minefield, pt 3 of ‘act of godhood’

summary: the last of this series. bucky joins in on natasha’s favorite thing to play: you

pairing: natasha romanoff x bucky barnes x reader

words: 4322

trigger warnings: smut...lots of it (wax play, temperature play, spit-roasting, strap-on, rope play, etc)

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

READ PART ONE, ‘ACT OF GODHOOD’

READ PART TWO, ‘BITE OF FRUIT’

Where everything you and Bucky did together was spontaneous, scenes with Natasha took a little more planning. This included preparation of toys, possible rearrangement of furniture, maybe instructing you what to wear. Most people didn’t like to plan when they had sex, they just wanted it to happen. But Natasha - a woman with a tight schedule, a work and home life that bled together so often they often became one, and a desperate need for control - struggled to unplug from everything else in the world without warning. She always needs time to mentally prepare herself for whatever she was planning to do to you, with you, for you. So, when you got the text the morning of one of Tony’s parties that was as ominous as she is, you buzzed with excitement.

It was simple, precise:

No panties tonight. My room at 22 hours. Do not be late, pet.

That day, she was training new recruits. You were requested to help Clint with some new bow he was trying out. Therefore, neither of you saw each other all day. Maybe this was part of her plan, to make sure the temptation and eagerness built up in you like a volcano waiting to burst.

It seemed more like something she specifically construed once you actually get to the party. Both of you were too busy trying to butter up donors and MIT alumni and whathaveyou to exchange any more than curt nods and the tips of glasses. You were stuck only being able to stare longingly, and damn, did she give you a lot to look at.

The sparkly floor-length black gown hugged her in ways you never thought was physically possible for fabric. It was sleeveless, and her skin contrasted well with the sharp lines of the dress. Her hair was loose, slightly curly. The dark makeup she had on made you want to kiss her just so you could mess it up. You wanted to leave kisses along her collarbones, down each arm until you could suck on her soft fingertips, feel the sharp black nails rub against the pink of your inner lips. Her black stilettos - the same ones she was wearing when she walked in on you and Bucky - clicked against the tile as she walked around, jovially greeting guests and inviting them to look at the new technology or whatever.

The buzz of the party was loud and the all-black dress code made the crowd stick together as if they were a pack of zebras and you were a lion, but somehow she stuck out to you. The loud, sharp clicks of her shoes made it easy to mentally follow her around the place, tracing her footsteps like some kind of lovesick stalker.

Your own dress felt plain in comparison to her. Yours was short, hitting the middle of your thighs. It was black, like hers and everyone else’s attire at the party. It had this cape-thing that flowed behind you and made you seem more dramatic than you felt. A stylist had come a few weeks before, and Wanda ended up helping you pick it out.

“To show off your legs,” she told you with a wink. All you heard was, “to give Nat easy access.”

Thinking back you question how she could’ve predicted that, how she could’ve known you were hoping to get some that night.

Oh, right...mind reader

The rest of the night passes in a flurry, the only highlights being when you get a peak of Natasha laughing or when Bucky comes behind you to rest his arm on your waist. At first you thought it was protective (you do have a pair of damn good legs, and a lot of men here are single, sexy nerds just looking to get some Avenger pussy), but the third time it happened you figured it out. It was a warning, a reference to future behavior.

That, and because he whispered, “See you tonight at 10:00, babygirl,” seductively in your ear. Plus the countdown he occasionally taunted you with.

“Two hours, darling.”

“Just an hour and fifteen minute, baby.”

“Down to forty-five minutes, doll.”

“Only ten minutes left...do you think you can make it?”

Damn does that man know how to build anticipation. Natasha seemed to be aware of your little game, smirking every time she caught you with Bucky looming behind or next you. You felt just like you did that first time in the laundry room: a trapped animal sure of their own doomed fate. “Doom” seemed like the wrong word, though. Persephone was only ruined and damaged in the eyes of her mother; in reality she was now the wife to an extremely influential god and got to assistant in ruling the Underworld. Just like her, others probably thought you lost all control when you submitted to the powers of the seemingly-cataclysmic people you love. In truth, all you did was gain. You gain love, trust, autonomy.  

The minute the clock on your phone struck 10, you ran like Cinderella to Natasha’s room. You open the door carefully, finding Natasha and Bucky chatting over half-empty drinks. Bucky was leaning against the dark oak desk, Natasha was sitting on the plush carpet you two had fucked on no less than five (5) times.

It takes a second for them to acknowledge you as you stand tall (or attempt to) in front of the now-closed door. Them treating you like this always makes you knees weak. Like they’re completely indifferent to you, or you’re an object, or you’re only to seen when they feel like it.

This, and everything this entails, is what Natasha loves best. One you stepped into the room, you’re all hers. Hers to control, hers to destroy, hers to protect.

Natasha stands languidly, easily.

“Strip and get into position,” she tells you. Easily, you take your own dress and underwear off before you lower yourself to the ground. Your legs are folded under you and your hands are placed on your thighs, fingertips pointed to your knees. Head lowered so that you’re looking at the piece of ground right before her feet.

“Look up,” she tells you. As you do, you see her pulling a makeup wipe out of a container on her nightstand. You can tell she’s been planning this for awhile and thought ahead to everything you’d need: your favorite cucumber and shea butter makeup wipes, the cookies you love during aftercare, an extra set of clothes for when you’re done, a large bottle of lube. It’s sweet, the way she takes care of you like this.

The cool wipe slowly strips you of the light makeup you had on with ease. You remain pliant and calm as Natasha turns your head side to side to make sure she got all of it off, knowing any movement could warrant punishment. This is her time to make sure you’re in the right mindset to do this, make sure all you can think about is whatever she makes you think about.

By now, Bucky sort of understands what she’s doing. He’s not used to doing things like, your fuck sessions had always been fire lit with reckless abandon. The whole world was his playground, and he intended to play. This, though, is different. He watches Natasha’s careful actions with purpose. It feels like he’s witnessing something special, secret; an intimate moment no one else has ever witnessed.

“Stand,” Natasha tells you once she’s sure she’s finished. You stand. “Unzip me,” Softly, careful to make sure none of her loose hair gets caught, you unzip the long dress. It falls to the floor and she kicks it away leaving the surely expensive item in a heap. She’s still in her lingerie. “Good, pet,” she says, stroking the side of your face. Then she leaves you momentarily, moving towards the mini fridge that’s near her bed. When she turns around, you see that she’s got a water bottle. “Back into position,” she says as she opens it. You go back to the floor As soon as you’re settled, she holds the liquid up to your lips. “Drink,” she commands. You only stop when she tips it back from your lips, and by then it’s half empty. You can feel its coolness travel down your throat and into your belly, chilling the heated feeling that seems to cook your belly. Out of the corner of Natasha’s eye, she can see Bucky looking a little confused. He got the makeup wipes...but why this?  “She didn’t drink much water during the party…” she explains calmly. “I need to make sure she’s hydrated.”

She puts the bottle back in the fridge, then turns back to you...just to look. To watch you be good for her. It’s her biggest - and favorite - stress-reliever. It’s a breath of fresh air for her. Nine out of ten days are spent trying to wrangle grown-ass men that act like children, and those are just the scientists and donors and trainers and government hacks and whatever else Tony tortures you with. That doesn’t even count the Avengers themselves, who all seem to be wildly childish for a job she was bred for. “You’re so good for me baby,” she coos as she steps closer to you. Your hearts thuds in your chest in anticipation. “I’m so proud of you...remember the first time we did this together. You were so scared, and so bad. Had to punish that out of you. Training is so hard,” she muses. “But it’s so worth it in the end…”

You want to moan but you stay quiet. Natasha’s taught you better than that, spanked you until you better than that.

“Up on the bed, pet,” she instructs. “On your back.”

You happily oblige, legs and arms spread out a little. She crawls onto the bed, sitting cross-legged next to you. Bucky now sits in the same plush chair you sat in the first time you did this with them. He’s got it pushed more to the side of the bed, though. He wants a good view of the show you and Natasha were putting on. Last time only made his Porn Pickiness worse. Bucky truly hasn’t been able to rub one out without feeling so ridiculously unsatisfied in so long he constantly thinks he could drop dead any second. Plus, the excitement of watching you and Natasha do whatever this is for the first time is making his bones vibrate.

Natasha runs her hands up and down your body; squeezing your breasts, tracing your ribs, massaging your thighs. The movements are purposeful, like she’s inspecting you. It seems she’s checked every inch of you before her fingers dip between your thighs. She’s seeing how wet you are, and it’s torture. Additionally -since you’ve been waiting for this since you got her text this morning -you’re absolutely soaked. You don’t you’ve been this wet since you paid off your student loans last year.

“Ooh,” she purrs. “You’re dripping, utterly dripping for me.”

You’re now desperately trying to hold back and not move, but it’s so fucking hard. She turns her head to face Bucky’s, who’s literally sitting on the edge of his seat. “Get the pink rope from the second drawer from the top in my bathroom.”

Bucky nods curtly and goes to fetch the special BDSM rope she bought especially for you. It was a gift, presented to you after too many panties were destroyed. Every time you use it, she tells you the pale pink looks mouth-watering against your skin. How she could just eat you up.

Slowly but surely, Natasha ties your legs in a bent position and then ties your wrists together. After making sure it’s not too tight, she asks your color.

“Green,” you grin.

She smiles, too. “Good.”

You beam under the praise, always wanting more. The words that tumble past her lips are the most addicting drug you’ve ever tried, and - like other substances - no amount ever seems good enough. As she stands over you, you start to melt under her gaze. You just want this so bad and she’s just looking at you and holy Jesus you’re so horny. Natasha sees this and takes a small amount of pity on you. “You may speak, kitten.”

“Thank you Mistress,” you gasp out before you  “Please touch me, please. All I want is for you to touch me.”

“Bucky,” she barks while still looking at you. His head snaps up, almost too busy staring at you all hog-tied and whatnot to notice anything Natasha does. In truth, he’d never really had the patience for this kind of stuff...but now he really sees the appeal.  “C’mere and help me flip our little kitten over onto her stomach.”

Your body and cunt flutter as you’re placed on your stomach and arms are tucked under you. The whole time, you bite your lip harshly to stave off another moan that threatens to leave your throat. Being manhandled like this is a dream come true, it makes you feel so small and helpless. You’re happy you could cry. But, if you make a sound without permission, you’ll be punished. They’re painful normally, but you know Bucky being here is making her harsher, stricter than when you’re alone. At one point, she spanked you until your ass bled. You’re assuming whatever Bucky could make you do wouldn’t outweigh that again.

Once you’re positioned, you can see Natasha’s underwear fall to the floor. Then you feel her fingers dance over you again. “Hm...what should we do to our little kitten, Bucky?”

Bucky laughs huskily. “Kinda wanna just fuck her tight little cunt, make her scream.”

Natasha chuckles a little, too. “Then that you shall do.” She pulls you up by your hair and places you on your elbows, making it easier to for Bucky to access your back or neck if he so pleased. “Be good for our little Bucky boy, can you do that for me?”

All you can do is nod as Bucky enters you. You smash your lip between your teeth as he slides in and out of you, making them more raw with each passing minute. His thick hands on your hips make it even more sensual, you feel like all you ever need to do is lost in the slap of skin for all the previous agony to be worth it.

As you grip the sheets as best you can with your bound wrists, you almost don’t notice Natasha put on the strapon. It’s your favorite, a black average silicon one with little ridges and cute little sparkles baked into it. She bought it from someone who makes them special, which made you almost crumble when she presented it to you. That was her dirty little secret. It wasn’t that she was a total domme, it was that she cared so much about you. Emotions have never been her talent, but with you they seemed to come naturally.

She balances on her knees in front of you, pulling you up by your hair. Your eyes have glazed over, tears run freely down your face as Bucky continues to fuck you. He softens his thrusts a little bit so Natasha can grab hold of your slack jaw.

“Open up, darling,” she coos, slowly inching the cock into your mouth. Wordlessly, you take all of it. As it hits the back you gag a little, but Natasha still forces it down your throat. “Take all of my cock.”

Now you’re being spit-roasted, each of Bucky’s thrusts forcing you to take more of Natasha. It’s an inescapable rhythm that has you getting wetter by the second. You can feel your own juices dripping down your shaking thighs and your spit trail down your neck. The liquids add to your sweat, creating a sheen layer of filth that has you feeling like the disgusting whore you are.

Natasha, noticing your mind slipping from the moment, gives you a break (on her end, at least). She pulls the dick out of your mouth, and gestures to Bucky that she wants to do something a little different.

“Have you ever done wax play, Bucky?” She doesn’t look at him while he speaks, instead she pulls your hair away from your back with a hair tie she grabs from the nightstand.

Bucky shakes his head. “What were you thinking?”

You can’t see her - the tears cloud your vision way too much for that - but you’re sure she’s flashing that signature devilish grin. Before you can process it, you’re on the ground again. The position you’re in is similar to before, but your legs are a little further apart and your hands are placed between them. The rope digs a little into your ass, which seems to ground you enough to see her grab a lighter and candles from a drawer in the desk.

As she lights one and lets it burn a little, Natasha’s voice is as stern as ever. “I want to see how long you can stand this,” you shiver a little. This is something you’ve only done once before, and it ended with you screeching your safe word after the first drop hit your skin. “For every minute until you say that you’re red, you get an orgasm.”

Now this, this is something Natasha definitely thought of ahead of time. You’re so sensitive one tap to your clit could have you squirting, what would happen if Bucky and Natasha really worked to please you. Once a few are lit, she places them on the ground in front of you so you can watch them burn and she can take the strapon off. Bucky follows suit, now standing in front of you, too. It’s the first time you’ve really been able to look at him since Natasha made you lie on the bed. He’s naked, completely and utterly so. His hair is messy, sweaty, perfect. God, you want to touch him so badly.

All too soon, the candles are completely melted. Natasha picks one up and blows it out, handing it to Bucky. “Pour this down her back slowly and carefully.”

Bucky nods, a little hesitant. He trusts Natasha, though, so he does as he’s told. Slowly, carefully - just as Natasha said - the wax drips down your spine. Each time the hot wax makes contact with your skin, it causes you to gasp and squirm a little. There’s nothing you can really do, though, since your arms and legs are tied up. Natasha finds it cute, the way you attempt to twist and contort your body to inch away from the pain.

“Good girl...you’re so good for me, you know that?” she coos, petting your hair. You lean into her touch, which she happily gives you. Natasha then grabs a second candle. She pushes your shoulders back a little, your hunched back now curved the other way.

The wax drip, drip, drips down between your breasts and down your sternum. The skin there is a little more sensitive, so a few more gasps and hiccups of slight pain. Bucky and Natasha both stand over you, watching you wordlessly. In all, there are exactly five candles. When the last one is about to be poured over you, Natasha suddenly changes her mind.

Her tone is sultry, almost suspicious.“Bucky, why don’t you do the honors in finishing our little girl off with this last one?”

He takes it, a little hesitant. Wax currently covers your chest, stomach, back, shoulders, arms, forearms. The only part of your body that’s been untouched is your thighs. Easily, he readjusts you so that your legs stick out a little bit, with your still-bound arms limp between them. Natasha holds your head back with her fist in her hair, the ponytail-esque thing she created before now resembling an extremely messy bun. Her fingers clutch the scalp under it, massaging every so often.

God, you’re so spent. It shows, too. Your thighs quiver, waiting for sting of the hot wax. As Bucky pours it over you, letting it coat each leg equally, Natasha’s crouches down next to your face. She leaves light kisses along your jaw, eyebrows, nose, whatever she can reach. When Bucky’s finished, he sits on the floor on the other side of you.

They have the same thought simultaneously, because of course they do. Bucky and Natasha take turns praising you.

“I’ve never seen you do that before...I’m so proud of you, pet,” Natasha coos before kissing at your hairline.

Bucky traces up and down your arms. “God, you looked so hot doing this doll...I’m so happy with you…”

After the last of the wax has hardened, Natasha stands up while Bucky stays next to you. You’re slumped into him, your legs seemingly seconds from completely giving out. Soon, Natasha comes back with one of those large, wireless Hitachi wands. When it lands in your field of blurry vision, you could almost cry. You’ve been aching and quivering and just begging to cum this entire time...you have absolutely no idea what it’s going to feel like when you finally get what you want.

“Feel free to make any noise you want, kitten,” Natasha whispers as she turns it on. Immediately, your body starts convulsing. It feels like there’s a forest fire inside of you, like after this some old part of you will be burned away and reborn in the process. Bucky stills anchors you and holds you upright while Natasha mouth at your neck. Your senses are filled with them, and no matter how much you moan or cry out, neither of them remove themselves from you. It doesn’t take long for you to orgamsm, the waves of pleasure ripping through you like a scythe.

“Please Mistress please make it stop I can’t take it I just can’t just please Daddy please make Mistress,” is all you can ramble out. Your brain is completely fried, utterly useless. It hurts you to move, to breathe, to squirm, to do anything.

As Bucky mumbles praises into your ears, Natasha slowly unties all the ropes. She rubs that lavender lotion you and her love so much into your red and indented skin.  Some of the wax comes off in the process, but she’s careful to just rip it off of your skin (or body hair, for that matter).

She can tell you’re totally done for, brain drifting somewhere else. “Stay here with her while I draw a bath,” she tells Bucky.

“What are we going to do about the wax?” Bucky asks, tucking you into his chest.

You can practically hear Natasha roll her eyes. “They’re massage candles, you idiot. They just come off with warm water, body wash, and a loofah.”

Bucky mumbles a small “oh,” which causes you to laugh a little. Slowly but surely, you come back to life. You’re dead tired, but now you’re present in the room (or, as present as someone in your situation could be). It makes Bucky smile a little.

When the bath is fully drawn, Natasha gets down to work. If sex is her specialty, then aftercare is her side hustle.

“Do you want a bath bomb?” she calls from still in the bathroom.

You nod.

“Yes!” Bucky yells back.

“Rose petals?”

You nod again.

“Yes.”

He can hear some shuffling, the Natasha appears in the doorway in just a robe. “Bring her in.”

Bucky complies, picking you up bridal style. When he steps across the threshold into the expansive bathroom, he huffs out a laugh. “Bubbles?”

Natasha replies plainly. “She likes them.”

As he lowers you into the large tub, you sigh loudly and babble like a baby who’s been laid for a nap after an exhausting day. Immediately, you start to grab for Natasha and Bucky.

“You want us to come in with you?” Natasha asks. You coo again, nodding happily.

Without hesitation, both Bucky and Natasha join you. It causes a few bubbles and petals to fall out of the tub, but Natasha doesn’t mind at all. Her entire focus is on you, and you only.

You rest with your back to Natasha’s chest and your feet tucked under Bucky’s folded legs. At one point, he picks them up and start to massage them, an action that makes you moan in pleasure. “They’re a little stiff, aren’t they?” he asks as he digs his thumbs into your heel.

All you can is groan out a noise that sounds vaguely like a “yes.” You’re teetering on the the edge of sleep, and Natasha using an extra-soft loofah to rub your down isn’t exactly making it easy to stay awake. She’s finished with both of your arms when you finally fall asleep. Silence settles over the room as the bubbles die down and the water cools. Once all of the wax has been removed and your hair has been washed, Bucky drains the tub while Natasha picks you up and bundles in one of Natasha’s ridiculously fluffy towels she special orders.

Obviously too tired to do anything or yourself, you let her dry you off and dress you in the clothes she set aside for you. It’s one of her t-shirts and a pair of loose boxers. By then, a still-naked Bucky has joined you. He sees you’re curled into Natasha’s soft, squishy chest and curls up behind you. You coo at the warmth of both of their bodies.

Bucky waits until you’re asleep again to whisper to Natasha. “You never came...did you?”

Natasha smirks and looks down at you while she answers. “It’s not really about cumming in situations like this…”

In truth, Bucky has absolutely no idea what she’s talking about, or what she means. He’s too tired to dig further, though, so he just lets your slow and even breathing lull him into the deepest sleep he’s had in months.

[musemash]

TUCKER TRANSMUTES LOSS INTO GRATITUDE – by David D. Fowler / updated July 18, 2021

NOSTALGIA FOR MOVING PARTS is the fourth book by gifted British Columbia poet DIANE TUCKER. The embedded videos present a visualization of the title poem; her recitations of selections from the book; her tribute to George Herbert; and her book launch readings, with guests Sheri-D Wilson and Kevin Spenst. Multi Facet Fables offers several of her poems below.

Turnstone Press describes her work as follows: "Poised between thoughts of mortality, and an exquisite taste for the most tender, small details of life, the poems in Nostalgia For Moving Parts are whimsical, quirky, and resonant with memory. Deeply grounded in the rainy mists and green reeds of the Canadian west coast, solitude becomes a spiritual practice – transmuting loneliness and loss into grand appreciations, for the gift of childhood and the untravelled road ahead."

Fellow poet Rob Taylor writes: When Diane Tucker hangs up a payphone in Nostalgia For Moving Parts' title poem, she observes that 'there is (oh unexpected pleasure) a real click.' When she lays down to sleep: 'the prayers / that fight up through me make a sort of hum.' Click and hum. Nostalgia and prayer. What's been and what will always be. Nostalgia For Moving Parts reminds us how to hear and see the ephemeral in the eternal and the eternal in the ephemeral: the moving parts of all our lives."

Finally, playwright Ron Reed enthuses: "Three poems about childhood... made me cry... So particular, so much compassion. Get yourself a copy. I'm not kidding." You can find the book at this link: https://www.turnstonepress.com/books/poetry/nostalgia-for-moving-parts.html

CHILD'S POSE Both hands spread to feel the floor, the child I am is still kin to carpet, tile, dust-drift beneath cupboards. The child I am spreads forearms along this coolness, taking in how much the floor gives and resists. She curls into her kneecaps, warm familiars, pressing into the small dark made by her greying head. The tops of her feet flat against the ground, the child I remain makes herself hummock, hill, barrow full of the self's jewels, small spine a path from darkness to darkness, arms twin tree roots cradled in earth.

DANNY Skipping ropes at school, their woven heft. Steel poles around the roofed playground, the rain running down them luminous, metal-melting. I’d press my tongue against a pole and drink. School was a world of delicious new textures: fat crayons, creamy manila colouring paper, notebooks, worksheets stacked fat as animal bodies. Tables and chairs with shiny metal tubes for legs. Even light at school felt stronger than at home. They showed us filmstrips of marmalade leaves against a blue blue sky, all technicolour-crisp. How I loved those glowing celluloid leaves! Then the cloakroom hooks’ imploring curves, parallel silences in calm, rectangular shadows, the pavement tap-dance beat of skipping ropes. How I loved school, the sweet order of desks in grids. So I wasn’t totally upset when, in grade two, Danny with the French last name tied me to a pole with a skipping rope so he could kiss me, Danny with the round eyes, a cherub’s mouth, curly hair. He was small even among the small, as I was. No doubt I’d flirted with him, grade-two style, cute and clueless. I thought myself a lady. Were kisses procured? I bet there were a few. Soon the rope loosened and I made a dash. But Danny pushed me back. A metal pole I loved, from which I’d drunk the rain, rushed up and struck me in the bone below one eye. A shiner it was called. I had a shiner. I’d seen them on TV, cartoon-red beefsteaks on faces. Danny got the strap then, or another time, or both. He came back to class subdued, his crying eyes swollen. As if a hiding could patch up his love-starved soul. He chased girls, he lifted skirts, he stole kisses, and the grown-ups just spanked his ass? Poor Danny, tiny paramour, tiny batterer! As long as I knew him, Danny chased the girls, staring expectantly through big brown eyes. Whatever makes boys seize girls roiled in him. That yearning he had, no strap could smack it out. And no black eye stopped me flirting. I was seven and had imprinted on romance like a baby bird. I followed its Hollywood promises everywhere, persistent and imploring as a cloakroom hook.

IF I CAN BE BRAVE I love to lie on the rust-orange carpet by the shiny floor that stops at the heat vents, black slats like little venetian blinds. I peer between them. Can I see the basement? Can I hear Grandma and Grandpa talking? I slide along the varnished floor in sock feet, turn and creep down the basement stairs. If I face it, the darkness, if I can be brave, Grandma will give me a glass of 7UP and scratch my back on the green and white brocade couch and let me watch every last minute of The Lawrence Welk Show. Let me make it through the black basement kitchen, then run into the living room. Lamps will be on. Grandpa will smoke a pipe in his brown leather chair. Grandma's hair will shine in its perfect silver waves. Everything will be safe, blanket-cozy, almost-bedtime good.

BEAUTIFUL GRADE FOUR TEACHER always wore his shirt half open, had dry-look hair and eyes bigger than Donny Osmond’s. Sometimes he used swear words in class. I fell hard in grade four love. I remember the day I had to wear the hand-me-down dress to school. Polka dots, pleats, Peter Pan collar. 1974 was bell-bottoms, feathered hair, Three Dog Night and Doodle Art. It was neither pleats nor polka dots. It was in no way a Peter Pan collar. But crushy teacher, lounging atop a desk, fixed me, with round, pale eyes, in his stare. He grafted two trees to a single rootstock, kindness twinned forever with desire. You look smashing, he said, in that dress. The world lit up. I clutch that moment, talisman still, the heat that flowered when he noticed my smallness, my sadness, and spoke.

LOVE THE SAD MEN The small, huge things that sad men do, sad men who build with everything but words. Build dollhouses, train sets, HO mountains from cereal boxes and plaster of Paris, building the mountains they can for their sons. For daughters they build scroll-sawed shelves to hold phalanxes of dolls, blown-glass animals, Barbie barns above the bed’s blue lace. Sad fathers who’ve eluded words carve magic circles in their back lawns for swimming pools. They sieve stones out of the soil circles so nothing will nick the pools’ thin blue skin. This is the testament of sad men who live starved of words: drywall, carport, pickle jars of nails, lawnmower, farmer’s tan, house paint, apple tree, soldering gun, handsaw, wood plane. Wood shavings falling from the vise, wooden curls on the cold garage floor, wooden curls warm on little girls’ ears.

VANDUSEN GARDEN IN OCTOBER Imagine being planted long enough that your roots grow up through the earth, breaking the mossy surface the way a fish’s spine rises from the bronze lake. Imagine walking in a chilled silence until you hear three black squirrels chewing and hear their tiny hearts beat when the raven screams. Imagine white-gowned women in a fern dell. Imagine they’ve swallowed all of the October light and shine with it like walking birches. Imagine small bridges over a dry stream. Imagine every leaf assembling, red-gold current of autumn wind running under ice-hearted stones. Imagine pausing there, letting the chill slip itself down your back, into your lungs. Imagine your coat, your scarf, your boots loosen, open, and let slip in November’s sleek and blandishing hands.

UN-SISTER The un-sister who barely came to be in this world stayed in God's mind with the un-roses: red almond-shaped shadows. I dream her idling about the un-garden with all the un-born, bodiless smiles painted on the airless atmosphere of the vast un-place of the un-made, faux perfection of the un-tried and un-spoken. I hold up my hand of flesh, bathed in particle waves of material light. It cannot close around nothing. We're always bearing handfuls of atoms. Even when very still and thinking of my un-living sister among the haze of un-created flowers, matter sparks. Light dances across synapses in the mind's dark, where everything imagined has its name, its own small electric body.

[rosemaidenvixen]

You are my Sunshine

Chapter 6: Seven Part 2

Ao3

As hypocritical as it sounded coming from a doctor, Barbara found the process of receiving medical care tedious and frustrating. But finally, at long last, she walked out of the clinic and got into her car, glancing at the clock on the dash.

12:34am

Hours of waiting, an X ray and CT scan, and all Barbara had to show for it was a prescription for Percocet and an ice pack on loan from one of her coworkers.

She leaned heavily on the steering wheel, trying to summon the will to start the engine and drive home.

Two bruised ribs and a hairline fracture in a third. No real damage done, but it was going to hurt like hell for the next few weeks.

Jim wasn’t even ten years old and he was already strong enough to damage bone.

Most of the time, Barbara liked to think she did a halfway decent job at the single parenting thing. She paid the bills on time, maintained a schedule that revolved around keeping Jim’s secret, and of course, she had never raised a hand to him. No matter what some people might think, spanking was child abuse.

But in that instant, when Jim had hit her so hard it had knocked the air out of her lungs and dropped her to the floor; there had been the sudden, overpowering urge to strike him back just as hard. She got herself out of there as fast as she could, both to get her injury looked at and for Jim’s safety. The urge had faded rapidly, and it wasn’t until later, sitting in the clinic’s waiting room, that the raw horror of what she had desired for a split second hit her in full force.

Looking in the rearview mirror Barbara could see the heavy bags under her eyes, increasingly grim thoughts swirled around and around in her skull. She couldn’t keep this up. At the clinic her supervisor had started making her put in extra hours to compensate for the fact that she never worked nights. And getting off her shift to come home and deal with Jim and his meltdowns left Barbara even more worn out. It took everything she had to keep up with housework and make sure they had food on the table, she didn't have enough energy to keep fighting Jim like this.

It killed her every time she locked him in the basement, but at this point she was out of options. Her fingernails dug into the steering wheel as she tightened her grip, not when she had come so close to doing something unforgivable.

Dread sank into the pit of Barbara’s stomach like a lead cannon-ball as one thought, grimmer than the rest, bubbled to the surface. What was she going to do about Jim’s tantrums after he started puberty?

Barbara slumped back in the car seat and shut her eyes. She had been giving it her all for years now, but everything she had just wasn’t enough anymore.

It was over half an hour before Barbara finally put the key in the ignition and pulled out of the parking lot into the deserted street. The parade that had been the catalyst for this whole awful evening ended hours ago, but she could still see remnants of holiday festivities as she drove by. Faux evergreen boughs and ribbons wrapped around streetlamps, trees and storefronts lined with colorful lights that sparkled in the midnight streets; none of it did anything to lift her black mood.

All too soon, she pulled into her own driveway. Forcing herself to not drag her feet, Barbara stepped out of the car and made her way up to the house. At the very least she had to clean the crumbs and sharp objects off the floor before she went to sleep. Hopefully Jim had already gone to bed of his own volition. She just couldn’t deal with another one of his outbursts right now.

Barbara paused at the front step, mentally preparing herself for the chaos she was about to walk into. She took one more slow, deep breath and opened the door; only to be completely floored at what she saw.

Nothing but immaculate rooms and spotless floors as far as the eye could see.

All of the thrown Christmas decorations and knick-knacks had been neatly placed back in their respective spots. Everything broken or shattered had been disposed of. And not a single cookie crumb was in sight.

Barbara cautiously walked into the next room, noticing that the miraculous clean up job extended into the kitchen as well. It was surreal, part of her wondered if what she was seeing was just a fatigue and painkiller induced mirage.  

Glancing down at the table, she noticed the first anomaly in the otherwise pristine house.

A plate with a neat stack of toaster waffles sat in the spot on the table she favored during mealtimes. Off to the side was a carton of apple juice with the straw sticking out of it.

Barbara gripped the edge of the plate and tilted it slightly, confirming that is wasn’t a figment of her imagination. With all the curve balls life had managed to throw at her, it took a lot to surprise Barbara; but this did the trick. She was at a complete and utter loss for words.

The sound of rapid footsteps pounding down the stairs was all the warning she received before Jim scrambled up to her and encircled her legs in a death grip.

Barbara blinked at him before looking back around at the freshly cleaned rooms “Jim….Did you do all this?”

He mumbled something into her knees.

“What was that sweetie?”

Jim lifted his face up toward her. His eyes were ret and puffy, his blue cheeks were caked in layers of dried tears. It looked like he'd been crying for hours.

“ImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorr--”

“Jim, slow down,” Barbara got down on one knee and placed her hands on his shoulders “What are you trying to say?”

He snuffled deeply, clearing his sinuses for a more coherent reply.

“I’m sorry I hit you-- and yelled-- and broke the gingerbread house-- and the nativity set,” he said with a whimper “I won’t do it again, I promise,”

Barbara looked around the cleaned house, then down at Jim, then back up, then Jim again. In the two years since Jim had started transforming at night, he’d never acted like this after one of his meltdowns. She had no idea how to respond.

“I….accept your apology,” she said haltingly “Thank you for cleaning up the mess,”

Jim hiccuped out more sobs “I’ll be good from now on, I won’t ever get mad again, I promise. Please please please don’t leave!”

Barbara stared at him in confusion, now why would he think….

Realization hit her like a bucket of ice water; the cold way she’d reacted after he hit her, walking out with no explanation. That was exactly what James did when he left.

Time came to a screeching halt; Barbara couldn't move, there was a roaring sound in her ears. She was faintly aware of Jim stuttering out more apologies.

Being exhausted and emotionally drained was no excuse for letting Jim think his only remaining parent was abandoning him. And for what, an accidental hit to the chest that hadn’t done any real damage? It wasn’t Jim’s fault that he was stronger than any other child his age. This was hard for him to.

Her heart ached at the mental image of Jim deep cleaning the house in a desperate attempt to convince his mother to not abandon him. In the back of her mind she was aware of tears building up.

What was she doing? She thought she'd been managing to keep their lives together, but everything was still in pieces. Only this time there wasn't a magic bath bomb to blame. This time Barbara was the one doing the damage.

She made Jim doubt her love for him.

A sob started to bubble up in the back of her throat as the appalling realization washed over her. She was part of the problem. Her nose was so close to the grindstone Barbara hadn’t even noticed when she started to slip in her parental duties. Locking her child in the basement on a regular basis, leaving him home alone for hours; how on earth had she convinced herself that those were ok things to do?

And to think that earlier tonight she'd been halfway tempted to….to….

Hot tears spilled out onto her cheeks, she had failed horribly as a parent, Barbara Lake didn't deserve to be called a mother anymore.

The sound of Jim collapsing brought her back to reality.

Seeing Jim, curled up in ball on the floor and still crying, froze her in place. The whole time she’d been having a mental breakdown, she’d failed to notice Jim having one of his own.

Jim was still here, she was still here.

They were still a family, and family didn't quit on each other no matter what.

Hastily, Barbara wiped her cheeks with her sleeve and forced down her sobs. Jim already felt guilty enough, she wasn’t going to compound that by letting him see her cry.

Just because she’d failed Jim in a big way didn’t mean it was time to give up. No matter how bad things got she couldn’t stop trying. Even if everything she had wasn’t enough, Barbara had to keep striving to do better, for both of their sakes.

Wasting no more time, Barbara got down completely on her knees and pulled Jim up into a tight hug. Ignoring the hot stab of pain that flared up in her side.

“It’s ok sweetie, I’m right here,” she crooned “I’m not going anywhere,”

Barbara continued murmuring words of comfort to Jim as his sobs gradually slowed.

Eventually, once Jim calmed down to the point of being able to carry on a conversation, Barbara leaned back on her haunches, looking at Jim face to face.

“Jim, I promise, no matter what, I am never going to leave you,” Barbara barely kept her voice from cracking “You’re my son and I love you, and I will always be here for you,”

“Really?” he asked in a small voice “Even after I….I….”

“Oh sweetie….” Barbara carded her fingers through Jim’s hair, making sure to avoid his budding horns “You made a big mistake, but I still love you, and there is nothing you could ever do to make me stop loving you,”

Jim looked up at her with wide eyes “You mean it?”

“Of course I do,”

The future still terrified her, keeping Jim’s blue form a secret wouldn’t get any easier; he got bigger and stronger every day, and his horns and tusks kept getting more pronounced to. But no matter what he turned into in the end, Barbara would never let Jim doubt for a moment that she loved him with all her heart.

She cupped the side of his face “Jim, no matter what happens, I will always love you and I am never going to leave you. We’re a team and we’re going to stick together.”

Relief washed over Jim’s face, she saw the tension leave his shoulders as he relaxed for the first time since the sun went down. Jim curled deeper into her embrace, burying his cheek against her collarbone and rubbing the top of his head against her neck.

“I love you to Mom,”