#knitted summer wings | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vanessamooney · 3 months

Text

The Age of Us pt. 1 - Draco x Reader

Prompt: Glimpses into your lives through the years

Pairing: Draco x Slytherin!Reader

Part 2

Part 3 coming soon!

In First Year you're a ball of glimmering potential. You're staring wide eyed at the brilliant castle before you from the boat house and on the walk up a little Draco is trailing behind you, holding up your robes to prevent them from dragging in the mud. You don't even notice the sweet gesture as you spend the climb up rambling to him about how excited you are to begin learning about magic, bouncy as ever with a smile wider than he's ever been able to draw out from you. Not even his mother's white peacocks at Malfoy Manor brought out such a smile from you, nor the time years ago when you two rolled down the hill on your family's estate, covered in twigs and wrestling in a pile of dried leaves, giggly as ever.

╺╺╺╺╺╺╺

Draco watches proudly as his girl is sorted into Slytherin house, and he welcomes you with a radiant smirk as you trot over to the house table and seat yourself right next to him. He watches eagerly as Potter and that blasted orange haired Weasley boy are called out next, moping methodically along to the sorting hat, watching them with a glare he reserved for the mud-bloods his father would point out on trips to Diagon Alley. He hopes Potter will be sorted into Slytherin, after all, 'connections are key' Lucius would say and who better a connection than the chosen one?

'Oh Draco,' You tut, 'look at the sky!' you're in awe at the ceiling which you've only just noticed, the enchantments were executed so gracefully if you hadn't of read Hogwarts, A History before the year began you would've had no clue the great hall ever had a roof.

He looked at you with the same dirty expression sculpted on his face that he had given Potter through the ceremony, stuck like cement, but when he noticed your doughy lips parted in wonder, he reached over and with a nimble finger, he closed your mouth for you, leaving you blushing a tomato red.

╺╺╺╺╺╺╺

'Up! Up! Up!'

You're standing over your broom, watching the other kids stand in organised lines across from you in the fields, succeeding with calling their brooms to them. Draco had succeeded on the first try, of course, and you're embarrassed to be one of the last people whose brooms have still not so much moved from their original position.

He catches your eye and gives you a sympathetic look, crossing his lips into a firm line. The broom in his hand is tossed carelessly to the ground and he makes a leap towards you, his hands reaching to tenderly adjust your arm in another position.

Draco had received lessons over the Summer and was already worrying his mother as he hastily flew around the Manor windows on the shiny Nimbus Lucius insisted he needed. You watched him on warm Spring afternoons with your feet firmly planted on the ground in the grassy meadows as he perfected his flying, your hands busy with knitting because 'a little girl like yourself needn't fly,' as your mother had so often reminded you when you dared to ask.

'There, try with your hands like that, and say it firmly,' Your best friend instructed you, watching your worried eyes and flushed cheeks.

'I don't know Draco, maybe I just can't fly,' you confess, worried that really was the possibility.

'Just try,' he furrowed his brows, 'for me?'

You shakily nod your head, the last one on the field now without a complying broom. The Longbottom boy had now been escorted to the hospital wing by Madam Hooch and you hoped such a thing wouldn't happen to you but Draco seemed to read your mind when he notices your wandering eyes.

'Just look at me, look at my eyes, Y/N,' he began, rubbing your shoulders 'Don't focus on anything else,'

You gulped, staring into him with an openess you reserved only for him 'Up!'

The broom snaps into your hand and you squeal in excitement, throwing it away as quickly as it flys to you and embracing Draco in a hug so tight he could barely breathe.

You don't notice the glares the two of you received from Potter and his gang, but Draco does, giving them an equally dirty look before marching over to the remembrall that had rolled over and snatching it right off the ground.

╺╺╺╺╺╺╺

There was a troll on the loose in the castle and you've been escorted back to the Slytherin dorms by the Head boy and girl. Everyone had gone up into their respective dormitories in fear of being taken by the ghastly monster but you had tugged on Draco's sleeves with puppy dog eyes and begged him to stay in the common room and play a game of friendly wizard's chess with you.

He sighs and rolls his blue eyes to the back of his skull but reluctantly agrees and you sit warm by the fire on a bear hide rug. The chess board is nestled between the two of you and Draco instinctively goes to grab the white King but you start to sulk.

'Oh Draco, please, can I be white this time?' you beg, looking up at him with the biggest and glassiest eyes you could possibly muster. How could he say no?

'Ugh, you just want to be white because you want to use the Wayward Queen opening, you always use that one,' he retaliates, pressing the white King into your little hands.

'Do not!'

'Do too!'

'Do not!'

'Do too!'

You blow him a raspberry and make your first move. Pawn to E4.

'Ah hah!' He exclaims, pointing an accusing finger at you with a light scowl brushed on his features, tussling his air with his other hand in frustration. 'You're doing it! You're doing the same opening!'

You give him a ghastly stare and with a swing of your arm you knock over all of the chess pieces, huffing and puffing as they spread fallen all over the board.

'Fine! Stay down here and get eaten by the troll then!' You hiss at him, and run up to your dorm room to scream into your pillow.

╺╺╺╺╺╺╺

You're sitting in the first potions class of the year, listening to Professor Snape lecture Harry about not listening after watching him methodically take notes on the Professor's wise words from a couple rows away. You weren't able to get a seat next to Draco at the front of the class and you silently thanked this luck, having boasted about how much you've studied all Summer in preparations for potions and knowing Draco had not read even a single passage.

You sat next to a bushy haired Gryffindor girl called Lavender who weary looked in a mirror and you smirked as you watched Draco's ivory head listening to Snape assign the first task ever: brewing a common poison antidote. When Snape announces the winning pair will receive 5 points each to their respective houses your eyes twinkle with anticipation.

You leave your partner behind to gather the ingredients for the potion: Bezoar, mistletoe berries and a unicorn horn. You bump into Draco in front of the ingredient cupboard, and beam at him proudly.

'I read about this potion in the potions book,' you smile sweetly up at him, purposefully brushing against him as you shove to grab the vials. 'It should be a piece of pie,' you laugh accusingly, standing as tall as your short legs allow you to.

'Good luck,' Draco laughs vacantly, handing you a unicorn horn from the top shelf you couldn't reach. His fingers brush against yours and you scoff, heading back to your cauldron.

Lavender is sat twirling the knife on its tip on the chopping board as if she'd never seen the utensil before and in the time you were gone had managed to spill water just about everywhere, wetting your parchment and bleeding the ink of the potion recipe.

'My goodness,' You exclaim, rushing to take away the knife and wipe up the water, 'have you two left hands?'

You watch the potion brew and bubble as it cooks, anxiously tracking the time with an hourglass. When the final grains of sands trickle through the narrowed passage, you hastily reach for the unicorn horn you powdered earlier and your heart sinks when you see your partner already poised over the cauldron, a pinch of the precious powder between her fingertips. She carefully sprinkles it into the cauldron and you watch in horror as a noxious cloud of black smoke billows forth and envelops you both in char.

'How many pinches did you put in?' You scream, wiping the soot from your eyes.

'Two,' Lavender whimpers, eyes stinging from the cloud.

'It was meant to be ONE!'

Everyone in the class is now giggling at your misfortunes and Professor Snape has now come over to see what all the commotion is about.

'You two better clean that up right now,' Snape chastised in his nasally voice, condemning you to blush in shame beneath the soot on your cheeks.

As Snape made his rounds, meticulously examining the colors of each potion, his scrutiny lingered noticeably longer on Draco's cauldron. The pungent aroma that emanated from Draco's concoction filled the classroom, matching the textbook's description exactly, causing you to wince involuntarily.

'Malfoy, Zabini, 10 points to Slytherin,' Snape announces.

Draco's triumphant gaze locks onto you as he revels in his perceived victory in the silent competition between the two of you. With a mocking laugh, he directs his attention to your soot-streaked face, his expression one of haughty satisfaction as he proudly asserts his well-deserved win with a piercing stare.

╺╺╺╺╺╺╺

Eyes drifting over to Pansy Parkinson you can't help but notice she is staring at your best friend, and you don't like it. You're in Charms class with Professor Flitwick and you're sitting a few seats down from Draco who is stuffed in-between his minions and looking increasingly annoyed from the class introduction Flitwick is moping on about. Pansy has painted on herself an innocent expression she only wore around Draco and you wished you could shake her until the ribbons came undone and her mask fell off.

Despite her Pureblooded nature and family status, you couldn't rid the feeling of unease whenever she was around and sharing a dorm with her turned to be nothing short of a Lovecratian nightmare. There was something about her that set your teeth on edge. You wanted to pry off her veil and examine her flaws beneath a microsope; you wanted to disect her and unravel the intricacies that made you burn with an inextinguishable fire.

You gaped at her when she cheered on Draco who had quickly succeeded in levitating his feather, leaning over the desk so far you thought she would topple right over and end head first in the middle of the classroom, bouncing on her horribly cut bob upside down and out of the classroom window and into the grounds. You imagined it so vividly you started to chuckle to yourself and didn't even realise Draco had been beckoning you with the usual smirk you loved across the desk.

Pansy looked at him eagerly, daydreaming about her name dancing on Draco's tongue rather than yours and she blushed a million shades of red when she realised she was drooling slightly from the corner of her mouth. You shot her a look of disdain, features twisting haughty from her sopping desperation. She knew that you had won - as did you -knowing it was your name on his lips, not hers.

╺╺╺╺╺╺╺

'Potter,' You're seething through your teeth, acknowledging his dreadful existence as you and Draco pass him on the way to the Quidditch fields. You're dressed head to toe in green, showing support for your house. Draco's Slytherin scarf is wrapped securely around your neck, flowing behind you in the wind and you delight in his scent. You can't help but watch Harry in pure disgust, not because you hate him by proxy, but because Draco should be seeker, not him and it wasn't fair.

'Rosier,' He starts back, his eyes narrowing to a squint at the two of you for an instant before he hurries back to the safety of the rest of the Gryffindor team. Malfoy smirks at you proudly, leading you to the Slytherin seating area with a gentle hand on the small of your back, luxuriating in seeing his scarf around your neck.

And when all of Hogwarts watches Harry reveal he has caught the golden snitch, you feel nauseous and you can only think back to all of the nights you spent comforting Draco when he found out Harry had made the team. You scowl, your fingers sliding down to find Draco's beneath the bench and you squeeze them hard. It should've been him.

╺╺╺╺╺╺╺

You wake up in a panicked sweat, the hair on your face sticking on your damp skin. You feel tears sliding down your plump cheeks and you reach up to wipe them away but they won't stop. Nightmares invaded your dreams, mercilessly rocking you awake in a sea of no hope. When you look around your sleeping quarters, you see strange figures in the form of your wardrobe, capes draped across armchairs and coat stands twice your height. Your dormmates are sleeping peacefully In their own beds, their light puffs of air comforting you - but it wasn't enough. You needed Draco.

Gulping, you manage to place your wobbly feet on the floorboards and wrap a Slytherin blanket around your tiny figure, tip-toeing out of the room without causing anyone else to lose sleep. You left the girls a silent prayer for their safety and you snuck down the stairs.

The common room was now empty in the middle of the night, the hot fire still roaring its song to warm the unforgiving dungeons the Slytherin house called home but you couldn't shake the uneasy feeling of being watched by prying eyes and you squeaked with the floorboards, rushing up the stairs opposite and straight to Draco's dorm.

You padded on the door softly with care to not wake the wrong occupant. You whispered his name more times than you could count, counting instead the hot tears that flew to the ground from your leaky eyes. When the door opens revealing a half-asleep Draco he knows right away to open his arms and hold you tight, and that is exactly what he did. That night he inhales your sweet scent and whispers sweet nothings into your ear, lulling the bad dreams away.

╺╺╺╺╺╺╺

Snow topples from the sky and for the first time in your life you're happy about it. Christmas break came and went all too soon and now in front of you lies the vast whiteness of Winter. She covers Hogwarts in a thick blanket and you sink in it's softness, snow filling your boots and socks.

'Ah!', you jump around from the chill, pausing Draco is his steps as he's foraging for a stick to finish the snowman the two of you had spent all afternoon building. He lets out a hearty chuckle directed at you when you point to your boots, mouthing 'wet' and pouting with your pillowy lips.

He is stifling a laugh as he goes back to searching for the perfect twig and you don't feel content at this reaction. Without a single further thought, your gloves pawed into the sheath around you and formed a perfectly round globe of snow. You eyed your target meticulously, catching the eyes of Blaise and Pansy in the process and before Pansy could warn her precious Draco, you've already belted the snowball at him and watched as it exploded into dust on his back.

Draco whips back to see you howling in laughter, bracing yourself with your hands clutching your thighs, the pom of your beanie shaking erratically. He frowns, glancing over to his friends who shrug their shoulders at him, and while Blaise sends a cheeky smile, Pansy is mouthing your name and pointing to you crudely.

'Hey!' he yells, abandoning the stick he spent oh so long looking for and creating his own balls of destruction. He was going to make you regret this.

That afternoon you all walked back to the castle covered in snow and ice, hair wet and lips pink but you silently wished the day would have never ended and you replayed it over and over in your head that night, cackling silently when the image of Draco's scowl turned into a mischievous grin and it all lingered in your mind.

166 notes · View notes

nikethestatue · 3 days

Text

Salted Cashews

Despite all the ickiness in this fandom, my Elain Archeron Week continues.

This little fic was based on the quiz that is found on SJM's website.

Happy Summer Solstice!

June was in full bloom across Velaris. The city was always a thing of beauty, but springtime and early summer were especially lovely. The sea took on a special cerulean colour and all the parks and boulevards were clad in blooming flowers and trees of every hue and blossom.

The River Estate of the High Lord and High Lady of Night Court was swathed in blue and white. These were the colours that Elain Archeron had decided on for the garden’s colour palette. There were fat, shaggy hydrangeas of every shade of white and blue, beds of violets, rows of forget-me-nots, tall stalks of grape hyacinth, a smattering of bluebells, and plenty of white and cream peonies. She had taken special care to plant blue wisteria around one side of the estate, and jacaranda trees had been delivered from Day Court and replanted here.

Currently though, all the beauty around her was lost on Elain. She was, what one might call, hate gardening. Whether that was a real thing or not, Elain didn’t care. She was hot, the soil was giving her pushback, her knuckles were skinned, something was digging into her knee and her dress was sticking to her back. Also, she was giving real serious consideration to just cutting off her hair and going with a nice, short haircut. The heap that was currently baking her head was enraging her. Even in a tight braid, the hair was still hot and uncomfortable.

She was almost elbow deep in the ground, sweating and cursing under her breath, when finally there was some relief from the sun. A cloud covered the blazing rays and offered a bit of shade. Elain sighed, wiped her brow and continued to dig and pull.

It was Summer Solstice and she wished that there was something interesting and entertaining happening in the city today, but there were only smaller, localised celebrations happening, and she didn’t want to go alone anyway.

“Cauldron damn it to Hel!” she groaned, when she pulled on a weed, but it didn’t budge, and instead, she rolled back on her ass and jerked like a fish.

To her utter horror, she heard a hearty snort, followed by a chuckle.

She scrambled to her hands and knees and looked up.

Azriel stood above her, arms folded on his broad chest. He was dressed in a simple shirt and light jacket, instead of his leathers. A day at the office then…She already knew what he typically wore, depending on what he had planned for the day. If the day demanded a lot of flying, he usually dressed in his leathers. If he spent most of the day with the High Lord or in Velaris, dealing with his informants, then he typically dressed in a simple tunic, or a shirt and a jacket. And if, by some miracle, he ever had a day off, he just wore a black, knit shirt. Elain wouldn't admit it, but those shirts were her favourite–the way they draped over his immense, muscular form, subtly emphasising every curve of his biceps and his shoulders, not to mention the perfect washboard stomach that he possessed so casually.

Which brought Elain to her current reality–she was on her hands and knees, her breasts straining the neck of her dress, her ass up in the air. Like she was ripe and ready for mating. Azriel was watching her with a smirk, his massive wing stretched out and blocking the sun.

“It was…you…you,” she muttered, embarrassed.

“Gave you a bit of shade? Yes,” he confirmed.

“How long have you been standing here?”

He smiled.

“A while.”

Gods. He was standing there, watching her for however long, shading her from the sun.

“Well, you shouldn’t do that!” she said primly.

“Oh?” he cocked his head, “which part? The shading? The standing? The watching?”

“All of it!” she exclaimed, blushing like a strawberry. “You...you shouldn't sneak up on people.”

“Spymaster, remember? It’s kind of my job. To sneak up on people.”

“Well…well, you shouldn’t! And also, you shouldn’t use your wing like that,” she scolded him.

“Why not?”

“Because it can burn!” she said firmly.

“And you are such a wing expert?”

“I know enough. You shouldn’t sneak up on unsuspecting people.”

“Did you not enjoy a bit of a cool down?”

“Maybe. But that’s not the point!” she insisted.

She didn’t like being alone with him. It confused her.

He said that they were a mistake.

Which was his right, of course.

But then he shouldn't have been chasing after her in his own way. He shouldn't be here right now, shading her from the sun and watching her.

He was always watching her. She knew it. She could feel his eyes on her, even when she was in the garden, or in the kitchen. Once, she noticed a blob of shadowed darkness in the corner of the kitchen. She wouldn’t have noticed it, if it weren’t for that blob reminding her of something. She had continued shelling peas, and then sliced the green beans, and went to fetch basil from the garden. When she returned, the blob was still there. It hadn’t moved. And just when she began telling herself that it was nothing more than shadow play, and nothing to worry about, she remembered. In the recess of her mind, an image came to her–a memory–of the same dark shadowy blob keeping vigil in her room, right after she was Made. Typically, only Nesta would come and visit her. Sometimes the twins, who became her friends, because they brought food. But no one else really visited her in those miserable weeks. No one. But she’d noticed the darkness in the corner. And for some reason, when it had gathered there, and stayed, ever watchful, she didn’t feel quite so lonely.

Azriel was watching her face and then commented, “Seems like something just dawned on you.”

She didn’t answer, shocked by her realisation. Was it true? Did he hide himself within his shadows and did he watch her? Has been watching her since day one?

“What might it be?” he pondered.

“Nothing!”

He made a sound, but didn’t push. Instead, he extended his hand to her.

“Not that I mind watching her like that,” he teased and she coloured even further at the remark. “But I think that you should probably get up, lest someone gets the wrong idea.”

She was scandalised by his implication, but took his hand and he lifted her with alarming ease.

“You sure you don’t want to tell me what it was that you had suddenly realised?” he probed.

She shrugged impudently and said, “no, not at all!”

“Shame,” he murmured to himself.

She smoothed her dress on her hips and legs and muttered nervously, “I have to go…go see about dinner.”

“Well then,” he announced jovially, “then we are going in the same direction.”

His broad warm hand lay on the small of her back and she had no other choice but to walk next to him.

“Do you, by any chance, keep a journal?” he asked suddenly.

“Umm, no. I don’t. Why do you ask?”

“If you did,” he said with chilling honesty, “I would’ve wanted to read it.”

Her head whipped to him and she asked, shocked, “what?!”

“Yes, I would’ve loved to be a daemati–and believe me, I wouldn’t have been asking anyone for permission to read their thoughts, unlike Rhys–but I am not a daemati. And as much as my shadows provide me with useful information, reading someone’s thoughts must be incredible.”

Elain glared at him in disbelief.

“Wait a minute!” she cried. “That’s horrible! That’s utterly dishonourable too! You cannot read people’s thoughts or their diaries!”

“You can, and you should,” Azriel contradicted her ruthlessly.

They entered the quiet, cool mansion and walked towards the kitchen. Everyone was out, and it was just the two of them. The twins were probably around somewhere as well, but they didn’t make themselves known.

“See, if I had that information,” he continued nonchalantly, “I would’ve known how often you think of me. What you think. What worries you. What excites you.”

She paused by the cupboard, as she took out two bowls and turned away from him, so he wouldn’t be able to see her face.

“I don’t think about you,” she whispered.

He didn’t say anything for so long, that she thought he’d left. So when she turned around, she was faced with his wide chest and the fact that he was standing almost right next to her.

“Gah,” she gasped.

“We both know that’s a lie, don’t we, Miss Archeron?” he breathed, bowing to speak into her ear.

“No,” she shook her head, breathing heavily. “No it’s not. I…I don’t think about you.”

“Hmmm.”

“I, I need to cook,” she stammered. Despite the coolness of the house, she was feeling very hot.

“Cook then. I will help,” he offered.

“Umm, you don’t have to.”

“Why not? If I am going to eat, I might as well cook as well. What will you have me do? I am putty in your hands,” he opened his arms widely in invitation.

She sighed dramatically, and then dumped a bunch of cucumbers in front of him and said, “you may slice these. Not with Truth-Teller!” she added quickly.

He chuckled and took a knife, and then began slicing.

She pulled a fresh chicken out of the ice box and placed it in a baking dish, before grabbing a bulb of garlic, some onions, lemons and fresh thyme.

Glancing discreetly at where he was standing, she noted how precise his slices were, as he ran his knife through the cucumbers with ease.

“You know,” she said suddenly, “I don’t need to read your diary to know everything about you.”

He looked at her in amusement and inquired, “is that so?”

“It is,” she nodded.

“And what do you know about me?”

“If you listen closely enough, and observe, you can find out everything you need to know,” she said confidently.

“Alright then, indulge me,” he welcomed.

She minced garlic on the chopping board, and said,

“Fine. Here it goes: You are haunted by your past and cannot reconcile your need for peace with your warrior nature. You cherish the gifts that you receive from some of your friends–and strangely, you like jewellery. You have silver rings and your syphons that you tend to closely, polishing and cleaning them often, you wear leather bracelets and a silver forearm band, and you have a pierced ear. You don’t show it to others often, but sometimes, you wear an earring.”

At her words, Azriel stopped slicing and just listened, his face inscrutable.

She continued,

“You have a terrible sweet tooth, because you didn’t have sweets when you were a child. However, your favourite snack is salted cashews. What’s more, you like reading people’s diaries, and when you cannot find what their thoughts or motivations are, it frustrates you.”

“Anything else?” he asked, his voice stony.

“Sure,” she nodded. “You are loyal to a fault, but your loyalty battles the need that you have for freedom and independence. It’s a constant struggle. You like to eat. You especially like to eat what I’ve cooked,” she said the last part so quickly, it came out slurred. “And you don’t realise what others value in you the most. And it’s not your bravery, or your acerbic humour, or your shadowsinging abilities,”

“What is it that they value then?”

“Your incredible kindness.”

She finally looked at him.

His face remained expressionless.

“How did I do?”

“Wrong about everything,” he told her tersely.

“Oh.”

“Except one thing.”

He got up and laid the knife down.

“I just remembered that I had to be somewhere,” he lied.

She knew it was a lie.

“Alright, thank you for your assistance,” she said simply.

“But I do like eating what you cooked,” he said at last.

Elain watched him, her big brown eyes following his every move.

“I will see you later,” he said and headed for the door.

“Wait!” she called out, and hurried to the cupboard.

He stopped, a slight expression of annoyance on his face.

“I have something for you,” she said, wiping her hands on a towel. The next moment she emerged from the pantry, holding a packet.

She walked over to him and then extended her hand, so he had no choice but to take the packet.

“I know I was wrong about everything, but I still got you this. Happy Solstice.”

He looked at her for a long time.

“Happy Solstice, Elain.”

With that, he turned and walked out of the kitchen.

The moment he was out, he shot into the sky, his breathing heavy.

She…she saw too much.

Too much.

Once high up in the air, he soared over the roofs of the buildings and then curious, he opened the packet. Inside, he found a bag of salted cashews.

His favourite snack indeed.

#elriel #elain archeron #azriel and elain #pro elriel #elain #elain x azriel #Elain Archeron Week #my fanfic #elriel fanfic #my writing

88 notes · View notes

danadaria · 7 months

Text

Steddie Bigbang: Go and take this the wrong way (only blue and black days)

I DID IT!!!

This is my third piece of art for the @steddiebang !!!

I had the chance to work with @abstractnaturaldisaster and @doomcheese in this great hockey-AU! (They are so talented!!!)

Beta: @badcaseofcasey

You can read it HERE

Summary:

Steve Harrington was a promising NHL prospect. These days he plays for the Red Wings AHL affiliate and spends his summers coaching youth hockey camps, including a tight-knit group of friends who call themselves the Party. Eddie Munson likes hockey but it's really just his day job. He prefers spending his offseason with his bandmates and best friend/coworker at his record store, Chrissy. Sparks fly on and off the ice when Eddie Munson decides to spend his summer coaching alongside Steve "The Hair" Harrington. Will they be able to get past their differences and find happiness? Will Steve learn that there is more to life than hockey? Will Eddie learn to take himself a little more seriously?

#steddiebang23 #go and take this the wrong way (only blue and black days)#Steddie hockey au!#did i decided to draw all these characters on my own volition?#Yes I did #Let's just say some sleep was lost #(yes there's a pattern)#But I'm happy with this challenge! :)#steddie #stranger things #my art

185 notes · View notes

daisies-daydreams · 1 year

Note

Hi! I hope you're having a good day. I wanted to ask if you could please write a fluffy/angsty scenario where Alejandro Vargas comforts his wife whose having anxiety about being a first-time mom? Thank you!!

Pairing: Alejandro Vargas x Pregnant!Wife!Reader Category: Fluff/Angst Warnings: Mentions of Morning Sickness, Pregnancy

Word Count: 987

A/N: Hello! Thank you for your lovely request! I’m a sucker for domestic scenarios. 🥰 I apologize, my Spanish is pretty rusty but I tried to be as accurate as possible. I hope you enjoy!

Warm sunlight poured over your face and cascaded down the soft fabric of your maternity dress. You closed your eyes and took in a deep breath. You swayed back and forth in your rocking chair while rubbing your swollen belly. The deck creaked below you with each sway of the chair. Your eyes snapped open when you felt a small kick below your palm.

“Hello, little one,” you whispered with a smile. Another kick reverberated against your hand as if they were answering. You grinned as you continued to rub your abdomen, taking in the sound of the summer breeze rustling the nearby trees. Heavy footsteps thudded behind you. You turned your head to see Alejandro smiling warmly. He carried two glasses of horchata in his large hands. You returned his gentle expression as you took the beverage in your hands. He kissed your lips softly before sliding into the chair next to yours.

“¿Cómo te sientes hoy, cariño?” he asked sweetly. You sighed, taking a small sip of your drink. Notes of cinnamon and vanilla coated your tongue, blending pleasantly before you swallowed.

“Estoy muy cansada,” you replied with a weak laugh. “It felt like I didn’t get any sleep at all last night,” you continued, eyes watching the hummingbirds flick back and forth around the nectar-filled feeder that hung nearby. Alejandro nodded, recalling how he helped you wash your hair after you threw up several times throughout the night. He set his drink down on the side table and took your hand in his, stroking your knuckles with his thumb.

“Lo siento, mi amor,” he apologized. You smiled at him as he massaged the back of your hand.

“Thank you, Ale,” you sighed. He nodded. Your heart melted when he brought your hand up to his lips.

“I’m sorry it’s been so hard, mi corazón,” he whispered. You smiled, bringing his hand down to your tummy. He gasped when your baby kicked again, this time much harder. You winced at the harsh, internal impact. “Ay, te comportas,” Alejandro clicked his tongue playfully. You quietly laughed, shoulders bouncing before you took another slow sip of horchata. You smacked your lips, drawing out a heavy sigh as a hummingbird drew closer to you. You held your breath as its wings buzzed quietly, its small, emerald head tilting as it observed you. The bird’s ruby throat puffed out before it quickly zipped away into a nearby tree.

“Magnífico,” Alejandro murmured, his lips cracked into a wonder-struck grin. You nodded, watching as more of the tiny birds dipped and swerved around. He squeezed your hand, drawing your eyes to him. “(Y/N)…I want you to know that I’m so amazed by you,” he breathed. You tilted your head. He clasped his other hand above yours, his thumb still stroking your soft palm. “You’ve been so strong through all of this, mi vida. I know this is our very first child, and-” his words halted when he saw tears well in your eyes.

“¿Cariño?¿Qué te pasa?” he asked, his brows knitting together as he wiped a tear that rolled down your cheek. You released a shaky sigh as you sobbed, the waterfalls ceaselessly pouring from your eyes. Alejandro frowned, patiently waiting for your response.

“What if…What if I’m not ready, Ale?” you cried. Your husband reached over, taking your cup from you and placing it next to his.

“Not ready for what, (Y/N)? To be a mother?” he asked. You nodded and sniffed. He hummed, his hands coming up again to wipe the wet stains on your face. “Ven aquí, bebé,” he murmured softly while patting his thigh. You wiped your eyes before he helped you onto his lap. You sat on his sturdy thighs, his hand bracing the outside of your leg. Your face crashed into his shoulder. He stroked your back and whispered sweet words as you soaked his shirt with your tears.

“I’m so scared,” you confessed with a shaky breath. Alejandro pulled back to look at you, his eyes studying your worn features. “Th-There’s just so many unknowns. What if the baby doesn’t latch right away? What if something happens in the middle of the night? When I’m not around?” you rambled. You swallowed a lump in your throat, your husband’s eyes steady on you. “What if I…I just can’t do it,” you shook. Alejandro was silent, his hand pressing on the small of your back. Your bottom lip trembled, pain and exhaustion ricocheting through every bone in your body.

“Hey, look at me,” he commanded gently. You slowly tilted your head up, his hand on your thigh coming up to cup your chin. You blushed as he captured your lips in a deep kiss. You melted into the tender embrace, your hands coming up to stroke up his chest. Alejandro’s thumb caressed your chin before he pulled away. “Cariño, this will be a first for both of us. Will we make mistakes? Sí, all parents do,” he said firmly. You sighed, your body sinking into his hold. “I believe in you, (Y/N)-I believe in us. And we’re going to raise this baby the best we can,” Alejandro said with a sturdy resolution. Your frown slowly shifted into a small grin. You nodded.

“Te amo, mi corazón,” Alejandro whispered gently, his words falling over you like the calming breeze. You laughed quietly, his hand coming up to swipe at the small waterfalls cascading down your weary face.

“Te amo, Ale,” you said, nuzzling your cheek against his. You felt him smile at his nickname, his arms coming to squeeze you tightly as he planted small kisses over your face. Both of you remained seated on your porch, holding each other tenderly. You soon nodded off in his arms, head rolling into his chest. Alejandro smiled, brushing hair out of your face before he too slipped into an afternoon nap.

————

Thank you for reading! ❤️

Translations:

¿Cómo te sientes hoy, cariño? - How are you doing today, honey?

Estoy muy cansada - I’m very tired.

Lo siento, mi amor - I’m sorry, my love.

Mi corazón - My heart

Ay, te comportas - Hey, behave yourself.

Mi vida - My life.

Magnífico - Magnificent

¿Cariño?¿Qué te pasa? - Honey? What’s wrong?

Ven aquí, bebé - Come here, baby.

Sí - Yes

Te amo - I love you.

#alejandro x y/n #alejandro x you #alejandro vargas #alejandro cod #alejandro mw2 #alejandro x reader #alejandro vargas x reader #alejandro vargas x you #cod #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare 2 #reader insert #fluff #cod fluff #alejandro vargas fluff

440 notes · View notes

lvis44 · 1 year

Text

Sweet Escape - Prologue // LH44

Lewis Hamilton x Y/N - focusing more on a friend group in this section

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, slight jealousy? , age gap-ish (being friends with older people), possible language, not edited

Word Count: 1.2k+

Summary: A little backstory on how you found the friends you now consider family, all leading up to the group trip Lewis has planned and an unpleasant surprise that may come with it.

Notes: This is a prologue to a short series I have been planning. This part was written in a bit of a rush and ended up being longer than I had planned. It's not wonderfully written, the next parts will be much better. Part 1 of the story should be up later today and can be read without reading the prologue, this is just some backstory and context. I am not a professional writer and all of this is a work of fiction and is strictly for fun. Enjoy!

Two years ago you stumbled into a group of tight knit friends, people you are now lucky enough to call family. You had just moved to a new city where you didn’t know a soul, yet somehow you were lucky enough to meet Charlotte. You met through work and she quickly took you under her wing. She introduced you to colleagues, brought you to lunch for work gossip, but most importantly knew when work had been tough. Those days she would show up at your apartment, usually unannounced, carrying a bottle of wine and junk food. She was like the older sister you never had. When she told you she wanted to introduce you to her other friends, you were incredibly nervous. You knew they were all older than you and if they were anything like Charlotte, they were very well off. You tried to explain that you didn’t want to intrude and that you really wouldn’t fit in. She was persistent and you truly couldn’t let her down, so you finally conceded. The shock you had felt when you finally met everyone was astronomical, multiple faces that you recognized, from models to professional athletes, nothing that Charlotte had ever mentioned. The one that had you the most starstruck though was Lewis Hamilton. You’d grown up watching him race, yet there he was, sprawled across Charlotte's sofa with a drink in his hand and a kind smile on his face. You had only been allowed to sit in your shock for mere moments before they were all warmly welcoming you, peppering you with questions and joking around as if they’d known you for years. They managed to not once make you feel out of place, despite the fact that they were all older than you and had been friends for nearly ten years. It had been a natural progression; them inviting you out to clubs, over for dinner or game nights, getting added to group chats. You became a fixture, part of the family.

At the beginning of the year, Lewis asked everyone to go on vacation while he was off for summer break. It wasn’t really a question, when Lewis was available, everyone dropped everything to see him. He was a rarity, sure he always kept in touch, but text messages and facetimes were nothing comparable to actually having him around. He made all the arrangements and informed everyone of the plans before you had even had time to agree. It was never lost on you that all of your friends were extremely wealthy, vacations like this were nothing foreign to them, but you never wanted to feel like a burden. Being considered a gold digger was the last thing you ever wanted. You didn’t know how you were going to pull it off but you knew you had to, you hadn’t seen him in more than two months now. While you tried to figure out how to scrape together the funds, you texted him and asked what you owe, bracing yourself for the number. His response had been simple and sweet, “Are you crazy? All I want is your company, miss ya :)”.

You had grown shockingly close with Lewis over the short period of time you’d known him. The night you met everyone you had found yourself alone with him, making drinks for everyone. Despite having calmed down, being in his sole presence had brought back all of your nerves, and he could definitely tell. You had ended up blurting out that you were a big fan, gushing like a maniac about his career. He had been kind, just chuckling as you rambled. When you realized what you’d done you quickly switched to apologizing, embarrassing yourself even further. He had laughed it off, shrugging before saying “It’s good to know I have somebody to talk to about racing.” He had asked for your number that night, saying he needed it to bore you with technical talk after races, and he did just that, not that it ever bored you. Every time you saw him you were greeted with a big hug before he asked for the rundown on everything that had been going on in your life. He was always protective of you when you all went out, keeping an eye on you from a distance while you danced in clubs, making sure no one ever tried anything. There had been a few times that you found yourself in the passenger seat of his car, giggly from the alcohol you consumed with your friends, he never let you take an uber, insisting it was far too dangerous for a young drunk girl late at night. He usually stayed relatively sober during the season, only having a drink or two all night, and never drinking during race weekends. He would carry you to bed, despite the fact that you could walk perfectly fine. Each time you fell asleep with a kiss on your forehead and woke with a bottle of water and a packet of aspirin next to your bed. He’s definitely a flirt, you noticed it the moment you met him, but you couldn’t tell if there was anything behind it. It always frustrated you and it never helped the crush that felt to be constantly growing. He’s an attractive man, painfully attractive at that. There have been more than a few times that you have all been hanging out around his pool, where you can’t help but watch the way the muscles of his back ripple under his skin. The main problem though, was he always seemed to have some sort of entertainment. You had met many models over the time you’d known him, all the definition of beautiful, but they only tended to last a few weeks at most. It was rare you would meet someone more than once or twice. You assumed he would have someone with him on this trip, he usually did.

Your suspicions were confirmed just a few days before the trip, he had sent out a full itinerary, including a guest list. There, amongst your list of friends, was an outlier, shockingly it was a name you recognized, a rare repeat for him. You couldn’t help but feel a little nervous, the last time you had met her she seemed to dislike you very much, and she hadn’t made it particularly subtle. You had been the recipient of many a poisonous stare, scoffs of disapproval when you talked about work, but more importantly nasty glares anytime you had the attention of Lewis. Unfortunately there was nothing you could do about it, you had never told him how she had treated you, mostly because you thought you would never see her again. You were in no place to tell him now, you felt it would be rude seeing as you were going on this trip on his dime. The only person that knew what she had been like was Charlotte, who immediately texted you making sure you were okay. You assured her it would be fine and to not bring it up, you were planning on ignoring the girl as much as possible and enjoying some quality time with your friends. You couldn’t help but snort when Charlotte tried to assure you the girl probably wouldn’t even last the whole week.

Everything would be fine.

#lewis hamilton #sir lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton blurb #team lh44 #lh44 #lh #lvis44 #formula one #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 drivers #driver x reader

508 notes · View notes

fleet-of-fiction · 5 months

Text

Jake Kiszka x Narrator & Sam Kiszka x OC.

Chapter Two

Summary: The Jones Family are new additions to the sleepy community of Beech Run. A tight knit scattering of rural houses, where everyone knows everyone. Deeply religious and overbearingly strict, the daughters of the family are kept under lock & key by a fanatical Father and submissive Mother. They watch from bedroom windows as their neighbours, The Kiszkas, draw intense curiosity and desire to be free. Madness of youth , hope & obsession collide to bring the danger of forbidden love to poetic ends. (Era A/U)

A/N: This chapter is particularly seeped in religious doubt. There's sexual activity in church. Spanking and cock warming and talk of it being a punishment from God. If you are particularly religious or have any trauma regarding this I urge you not to read. These views are the views of a character I have created and do not directly display the views of the writer.

Warnings:Religious trauma. Parental trauma. Intense emotions including desire, obsession, grief and yearning.Loss of virginity.Explicit sexual activity.Heavy praise kink.Severe edging.Oral sex m/f.Fingering.Masturbation.Dirty filth talk.

Summer 1984

I would have taken a thousand punishments in the wake of the memory of that hazy afternoon. Surrounded by tall grass and the sound of crickets on the breeze. Jake, and his exploration of my body, like a dream that I'd yet to wake from. Still frames in my mind, of his mouth and his eyes and his voice. I could still smell his flesh long after I parted from him. Consumed by it even as I stood at the foot of the stairs, beyond the hour of our curfew. My fate already sealed.

Jolene was unrepentant. The flush of her cheeks and the ravaging of her hair telling a story that she would never utter in words. I knew better than to ask. But when she'd appeared, breathless and without remorse, I knew that Sam Kiszka had been gifted with her heart, and perhaps more.

I don't think either of us came away from that afternoon exactly as we'd arrived. If innocence was the price paid, I felt a little richer for what I'd received in return. Perhaps a bird with clipped wings losing it's feathers, only to find that beneath there was an even greater bird just waiting to fly. That was how I imagined myself. On the verge of taking flight.

"Explain to me, boy."

Dad was standing in the hall, formidable and with a rage simmering away beneath a steady gaze. I'd only ever seen him this vexed once before, during a time when he'd been forced to reconsider the limits of his power over our brother. I thought, perhaps, that Ben would take his moment to exert his mounting power. But he wasn't the alpha, not yet.

"Car trouble, Dad." He replied nonchalantly, throwing his jacket on the bannister. "We're only a half hour late."

He would lie for us, but only to better serve his own needs. If he wanted to take Harriet Dinsmore out again and use the car, he'd have to pretend that nothing nefarious had happened out there while he was meant to be our escort.

"Don't you lie to me, boy!"

The way he spat the words out made me flinch. Instinctively reaching for Jolene's hand. The two of us ravaged and ruined by those boys, softly acknowledging that flower petals had been plucked in those fields. And we would take whatever punishment would accompany it.

"I had a phone call from Mrs. Dinsmore. Thanking me for my son getting Harriet home at a reasonable hour." He said, meeting his son at eye level. "And then she also happened to mention that young Lewis had been glad to see my girls down at the creek today."

I sensed the fear in Ben's eyes. The boy he once was never too far away. Bolstered by his freedom and the reluctance to lose it, he backed down immediately. And my lungs deflated.

"I left them in town, I swear." He pleaded, "I didn't know they went to the creek. I swear, Dad!"

It was pitiful. The way his cheek was turned as our Father struck it. That painful retrospect of what he could or should have said playing over and over in his mind as he looked directly at us. As if somehow Jolene and I had caused this. As if he didn't understand quite fully how free will worked just yet, and he'd had a choice. He could have told the truth.

"I'll deal with you later."

There was a look of reproach as Ben stormed up the stairs, clutching his cheek in a shame that was yet to properly manifest itself. He'd treat us like ghosts for the rest of the summer, but we truly didn't mind.

I was sad to see him go, still. Without the focus on Ben it meant that it was my turn to feel my Father's wrath. A wrath that he truly believed was descended from God himself. Sometimes I wondered if the truly believed that, or if it was a diocese of lies he told himself in order to sleep at night as the tyrant he truly was.

"I expected better from you." He said, standing with his finger extended at me. "I expect my daughters to uphold the values of this house and the church we embody. Not go against my word at the first opportunity."

He cast his eye towards Jolene, who would stand firm. She'd finally experienced something worth holding on to. Something she would protect, even in the face of God's wrath; which seemed to always wear our Fathers face.

"Dad, we're sorry." I apologised, although the validity of it felt like a sin within itself. "We had every intention to go into town with Ben. It was awful hot though, and we just wanted to cool off by the water. We didn't know that there would be others down there. Promise."

There were flecks of spit in the corners of his mouth as he leaned in. A tremble of his lip as he tried to keep his tongue in check. I could see my Mother lingering in the kitchen door way, like a shadow that bore no use without the shade she dwelled in. Both of them prisoners to their own demeanours. I hoped that there'd been a time, once, where they'd known how it felt to lay down and feel what I had felt that afternoon.

"Proverbs 19:9 - A false witness shall be punished, and a liar shall be caught." He quoted, as he often did, when he needed witness to his tyranny. "And I'll not have liars for children."

I didn't feel much like a child. And he would see me punished like the young woman I was becoming. Yanking me away from my sister, digging venom into my flesh with fingertips that intended to bruise me.

"You'll go to the church. And you'll pray on it until the sun comes up. And if I don't find you on your knees, you'll stay there until supper tomorrow."

Jolene knew better than to protest. Her hands flew to her mouth as he handled me out of the door and out towards the car. Her silent pleas for him to let me go left on the tip of her tongue. I wouldn't struggle. And she knew that I would go to my punishment as willingly as she would go to hers. And somehow, we knew, that we'd meet in the aftermath.

I was grateful for the sweet coolness of the church floor. The ebb and flow of a breeze that in the shade was a welcome respite from the summer heat. My knees were bent, pressed into the red velvet tuffet as I rested my elbows on the solid wooden edge of the kneeler bench. Genuflecting to the lord with my fingers entwined and a solemn knot in my stomach.

That was where he found me. Alone in my retribution. The gentle click of the church door alerting me to his presence, although I didn't turn and look. I allowed the echo of his footsteps to guide him towards me, my eyes burning into the effigy of Jesus Christ on the cross. My knuckles white, palms growing steadily more sweaty.

In the candle light it appeared as if Jesus was smiling at me. And I wondered if it were a cruel trick to lull me into thinking that I was absolved. The devil painted such a beautiful picture in my mind, and he arrived just when I thought I could be saved.

"I followed you." He said, his voice echoing against the rafters. "I didn't think he was going to leave you here, though."

He would know me in my anguish. I dared to turn my head a little, greeting him with a soft apology for the state in which he'd found me in.

"You should leave, Jake." I whispered, afraid that if my voice carried any higher God himself would hear.

He was wearing the same shorts, sunburnt shoulders now covered by a light blue shirt. Half of his hair tied back, the rest tumbling down against his neck. As I swallowed, I realised my mouth was unflinchingly dry. The sight of him an unholy memory of what he had done to me mere hours ago.

"I'm not leaving this church until you do." He assured me, slumping down onto the dusty floor, his back against the kneeler. He propped his forearms up on bent knees and sighed heavily. He didn't ask me to stop praying. He just...sat there.

"You'll be here until dawn." I warned him.

"So be it." He replied, without hesitation. "If I'm the cause of your punishment, I'll be the remedy too."

I didn't quite know what he meant. I didn't dare ask him to explain. The darkness was drawing ever closer and the temperature was dropping. The candles flickered in the encroaching draft, and my knees began to give way. The warmth of the afternoon felt like a fever dream. And he could feel the way my body began to tremble against the enormity of it all.

"Here." He offered, rising to press himself against my back, "Lean against me."

He took a little of my weight, but still didn't make me stop my prayers. He was like scaffolding around me, holding me up as I tried to right the perceived wrong I had done. His body still felt warm and tender against mine, his breath exhaling on the line of my jaw. His chest against me, arms tucked around my waist. I felt completely detached from the divine. As if my soul wanted nothing more than to dwell with Jake.

"We didn't do anything wrong today, Bonnie. You know that, right?"

I wasn't a moral compass on what was right and what was wrong. All I knew was that I'd done something which merited the endurance of midnight prayer. I couldn't speak to it, the softness within which I recalled the heat of the afternoon. It had me tongue tied as I tried to speak to God and beg for his forgiveness for such wretched wickedness. The wickedness of pleasure.

But God didn't speak to me that night. The only voice I could hear was Jakes.

"Do you want to be punished?" He asked, "For what we did?"

His question caught me off balance. My breath caught a little and a tiny, almost indiscernible gasp escaped my lips. This involuntary move made him hold me a little closer, a little tighter. Pulling my body up and more earnestly against him.

"God see's everything." I replied, trying to breathe against his palms that were flat to my sternum. "I'll be punished regardless."

He breathed an amused little sigh into my ear.

"If God see's everything, he's an immoral voyeur who knows that the flesh he created cries out for touch." He explained, taking the liberty of wrapping his fist around the hem of my dress. "Don't you think what we did down by the creek was a gift from God?"

When I thought about it like that, like it was God's hand guiding me into sin, I didn't want to believe in him anymore. And not because the God I'd been raised to fear might have been a foolish idea created by men who desired control over others, but because there seemed to be no God that could ever satisfy me.

"What are you saying?" I asked, keeping still as he pulled my dress up, revealing my underwear to the altar.

"Puppets. All of us. Moving around by the command of one puppeteer." He continued, his voice low and commanding. "All seems a little... inconceivable. Doesn't it?"

I was powerless to stop it. The thrum of blood beating in my core. The way it seemed that every muscle and sinew in my body seemed weak against his strength.

"All these moving parts, tethered by invisible strings to a hand nobody can see." He preached now, tucking the back of my dress into my bra strap, viciously pulling down my panties until I was fully exposed where I knelt. "You could kneel at this altar for hours in penance and feel nothing. Or you could let me help you feel something."

"You blaspheme." I whispered, closing my eyes as he slipped a righteous palm down the curve of my ass.

"You blaspheme!" He growled, "Against yourself, against your body...against me."

Perhaps I did. Fear was the definition of every corner I'd ever turned. Fear of God. Fear of my Father. Fear of wanting something I knew neither of those things would ever allow. It all seemed trivial though, somehow, when Jake ran such careful hands over me. When I could feel his body responding to mine. Heavenly, almost.

"Proceed, then." I allowed, fingertips digging into the bench. "If you're here to make me feel something. Go ahead."

If Jake was here, perhaps he was sent by God to instruct my punishment? Or maybe it was all just a bunch of nonsense. Maybe he was here because he wanted to be? Maybe all of this was just fuelled by nothing more than two people who wanted this?

I could feel the trembling in his body as he prepared himself. My underwear languished at my knees, my dress pulled up so that my entire lower body was on display. I remained in my kneeling position as he pulled himself back, taking a deep breath.

"Do you want to be punished, Bonnie?" He asked again.

"There is no God, is there?" I almost sobbed. "Only us?"

"Have faith in me." He replied so softly, his hand slowly riding down my thigh. "I'll never worship anything but you, Bonnie. I swear it."

I'd never forget that night in the church. The way my fear in God died and in it's place was planted a new found obsession for pleasures I'd been repeatedly denied.

Jake was nothing if not gentle with me. The soft rise and fall of his hand as it skimmed the inside of my legs, parting them a little where I knelt. His arm was pressed against my collar bone, keeping me steady when I might weaken. His subtle whispers were for me, not even God was privy to them as he spoke directly into the shell of my ear.

And then I knew his purpose. The slow roll of my body as he leaned it forward. The sharp recoil of his previously gentle palm as it reeled back. And the bitter sting of it as it connected with my flesh. The sound echoing around the church walls. And my silent scream ringing out into the far reaches of my mind, unable to flow out of my mouth as I bit down heavily on my lower lip.

Jakes hand lingered on my ass. Squeezing it as he centred himself. The very act he'd just performed seemed to draw such high levels of arousal that his breath seemed to cease for a moment. His mouth resting breathlessly against my shoulder as he pulled back once more. This time the connection was even more unyielding. And he moaned, digging fingertips into my tissue where I knew it would bruise.

Each time he spanked me I could feel myself drawing closer to something divine. Not God, not a deity I could believe in. The tears of it dripped down my inner thigh and rolled down my leg into the fabric at my knees. This was something else. Something only Jake could give me. My senses were entirely heightened. The sound of it against church rafters. The sting of it on my reddened skin. The pain of each squeeze as he revelled in it, and the way he seemed to go deeper into an arousal he could only speak of in feral groans with each snap.

"Your silence wont make a difference." He said, noticing the droplets between my legs for the first time. "Your body speaks where your voice will not."

I was still learning. "Once more." I urged.

I needed it. Whatever this feeling was. I craved it. The way his reactions made me wetter and wetter. The way his ministrations made it unbearable for him. The way I knew it was because of me that he damn near sank his teeth into the flesh at the base of my neck. Fighting for his life as he breathed harder. Kneading my ass cheek, rolling his palm over the heat.

"Tell me how much you need it." He begged, "Tell me how much you need my palm across your sweet little ass."

I began to think, perhaps, that he needed it more than I.

"Is it wrong how badly I need it?" I dared to ask, my voice quiet and small.

"No." He breathed. "You don't have to be pure if you don't want to be."

He did it again. Harder. With more vicious intent. The sensation of it sending ripples through my flesh and down into the folds of my beating pussy. That time I couldn't hold myself together. Whimpering so wretchedly that the candle flames danced in my breath.

"Again." I beseeched.

He didn't preach to me again that night. He pummelled his hand over my ass repeatedly until I gushed a river. My cries finally finding their voice. Ascending like a choir into the bell tower. With each switch of his wrist he grew more insatiable. And it seemed that he couldn't bear it any longer once he was done with me. Almost as if all it would take would be one more strike to make him ravage me.

He was exhausted by the time he hastily pulled up my panties. Ruffling down my dress, making it appear as if he'd never touched me at all. Nuzzling against my neck, his nose pressed against my jaw. Trying to swallow and breathe, like he'd lost all control. And despite the drop in the temperature, his brow was covered in a sheen of sweat.

I fell helplessly into his arms. My legs buckled under the weight of what we'd done. And he held me tenderly. The hand which had executed my desired punishment now brushing back my hair and lovingly stroking across my temple. I didn't reach orgasm, neither did he. But there was this strange comforting feeling I knew we both shared that something had inexplicably changed there in the church that night.

Once we had both calmed, we found ourselves tangled in a sweet embrace as we sat on the cool church floor. He coiled a light touch beneath my chin, cupping it in the curve of his index finger as he tilted my head up to meet his gaze. And he kissed me with all the uncontrollable arousal he'd supressed. His tongue explored mine. His gentle lips soft like pillows, opening and closing at slow intervals to allow his tongue to retract. Pulling back just enough to look into my eyes as daylight began to turn the black night into a pale blue hue.

"Why don't you ever stand up to him, your Dad?" He asked, playing absently with my fingers as we held each other. "You're eighteen. Surely that has to count for something?"

I knew he would ask eventually, I thought perhaps it would have come a little later.

"It's not like it is at your house." I sighed, "Your parents actually care about what you want. I don't think my Dad ever stopped to wonder if any of us wanted any of this. It just... is."

He stroked the back of my hand and curled both of his around it, closing around it like an oyster shell. "It doesn't have to be."

I wanted to join him in his hopefulness. But with the sun coming up I knew that I would have preferred to face the consequences of him being there alone. Another punishment. Another atonement for something I'd done that felt good.

"You'd better go before he gets here to pick me up." I responded, with my heart sinking even as the words spilled out. "I don't want you to have to deal with him."

But Jake was staunch. Sometimes I forgot that he was older than me.

"I'd take him on in a heartbeat if it meant that I got to keep you." He said reluctantly, sweeping his lips across my cheek. "Find what you love...and let it kill you."

The day I met Jake was the day that everything started to make sense. The night I spent with Jake in that church was the night I knew why. The pieces of my life finally started to fit. And there was no joy to be found in anything except for him. And I knew that I was irrevocably in love with him. Doomed, some might say.

Jolene was sitting in the window as I arrived home. Her forlorn morning stare reaching out to me through the glass as I climbed out of the car, the journey home wordless and without any conclusion. My Father had simply walked into the church, ascertained that I hadn't fallen asleep at my post, and opened the door for me to walk outside.

The weary walk to my room was peppered with my Mother taking my cardigan at the door and sheepishly asking me if I was feeling alright. I felt a sense of betrayal from her that usually simmered below the surface, but that particular morning it raged so aggressively I could barely look at her.

"May I go to sleep now?" I asked, ascending the stairs as my Dad silently nodded his approval.

No sooner had I opened the door, Jolene flew to it. Dark circles painted beneath her eyes, as if she hadn't drawn a wink of sleep either. Her nails bitten down to the quick and almost manic as she gripped my shoulders.

"Did Jake find you?" She demanded, frantic as I tried to sit at my desk. "I saw him, his car sped out of the driveway after Dad took you out. He looked pretty pissed."

There was a strange sense that my head was under water. It felt like my ears were blocked and my vision blurred. I hadn't slept, I'd been on high alert. And every time I thought it was safe to, I forgot that it hurt to sit down.

"Yes, yes... he found me." I sighed, pulling off my dress and slipping into my night gown. "We can talk about it later, now I really need to sleep."

She continued to fret as I climbed into bed. I hadn't realised that my body had been tensed, my muscles suddenly relaxing as I pulled my blanket around me. In here nothing else mattered and I closed my eyes. Feeling Jolene's unease as she lingered on the edge of her bed on the opposite side of the room.

"Let me sleep, Jo." I said, eyes still clamped shut.

She hesitated a little before responding.

"I had sex with him, Bonnie." She whispered, forcing me to open my eyes.

I wasn't really sure what I'd expected her to say. That perhaps they'd exchanged a sweet kiss. That she'd let him trail his fingers up her shirt, but nothing quite so absolute as the full act.

"What do you mean?" I asked, reluctantly sitting up as a beam of morning light began to creep in through the crack in the curtains.

She rolled her eyes and began wringing her hands between the folds of her night gown nervously.

"That's why we were late to get back to meet Ben." She explained, her eyes trained on the closed bedroom door. "All of this is my fault. I should have been the one doing midnight prayer. I'm the reason we were late. I'm the one who committed the sin."

She'd endured her own type of punishment. I could see it in the way she couldn't settle. Her knees in a frenzy as they shook up and down, her fingers in her mouth as she continued to chew on her nails. I opened up my blanket and invited her to lay with me. Immediately she drew the same calm as I had from being shrouded in pillows and blankets. Our bodies side by side as I hunkered down with her. Something we hadn't done since childhood.

"Was it what you wanted?" I asked, delicately pushing her hair away from her tired face. "With Sam? Did you do it because you wanted to?"

Her brow furrowed in confusion. "Of course I wanted to. He didn't make me do anything. Maybe I got caught up in the moment, but he was gentle with me from start to finish."

He was just like Jake. She weaved a tale so soft and seeped in romanticism that I was swept away with it. The way he'd offered her his hand to hold. The way he'd wanted to show her where all the fish liked to gather at an old bridge further down the creek, and they'd sat with their feet dangling off the edge talking about nothing of consequence. It sounded like a perfect summer afternoon. And she'd let him kiss her on that bridge for the first time, her and I locked in our unfolding stories at the same time.

"One minute we were kissing on that bridge and the next he scooped me up and carried me to the river bank. I don't think either of us had any idea what we were going to do. It just...happened."

She didn't have an inkling of regret. Even though she was sleep deprived, there was a sparkle there in her eyes as she talked about him. About the way he'd soothed her with caresses, assuring him it was what she wanted when he would have stopped. Calling her his little grasshopper because she'd been so excitable. He'd been slow and careful with her, repeatedly asking if she was ok throughout the whole thing. Taking care not to hurt her. Promising to shoulder the brunt of any punishment laid out.

"He's going to ask Dad for permission to date me." She said wistfully, "I told him that it didn't matter whether he asked for permission or not, that we'd never be allowed to date. But he was adamant. He said he wasn't going to let it come between us."

Our secrets were ours to keep. I knew that the minute Sam Kiszka crossed that street and onto our porch that they would unravel. I wanted to keep our secrets safe. It didn't matter how many punishments we endured. Jake seemed to understand this. His was a far more mature and level headed approach. Jake would have followed me anywhere, in pursuit. He would have snatched me up and taken me anywhere I pleased. But he knew better than to try to defy a man who was neither sound nor reasonable.

"I know he think's that he's doing the right thing, but he can't ask Dad to date you. It'll only make things worse." I worried, careful not to bring my own intentions into it.

Jolene's eyes moved down. Gentle disappointment laced in her heavy breath. When she looked up it was with forlorn dismay. A film of tears threatening to spill over her lashes.

"He's in my bones now, Bonnie." She sniffed. " I want my chance with him in every life time, not just this one. Don't you understand that?"

Such a romantic little thing, she was. I carried the bruises of the sexual deviances of what I'd done, but she'd known something I'd yet to know. A secret that was all hers, that I was no part of. I wondered why Jake hadn't tried to have sex with me, why her and Sam had come to it so soon? She was so eager to have everything so suddenly, part of me wondered if she hadn't instigated it herself.

It didn't really matter. Her mind was so staunchly set that I couldn't argue with it.

"Ok." I conceded. "Well, did it hurt?"

The swell of her smile was enough to keep me awake. The fissures of a giggle threatening to give way.

"A little." She replied, "I didn't know what to do at first. He laid me down and touched me, told me it was so that I'd be ready. And then he kissed me all the way down until his mouth was... you know...and then he kissed me there a little while. I don't know what came over me, I just knew that I'd let him have his way after that."

A flush of pink rushed to her cheeks. She seemed more awake than she had been a moment ago.

"And then... it was like a hot knife cutting through butter. Smooth and slow. And I could feel it sting, but only for a moment. And he asked me if I was alright, he never stopped looking into my eyes for any hint of pain. I just kept nodding, trying to keep it together. Not knowing if I should make a sound or stay silent. If I should move and let him do all of it. I just laid there for the first few minutes, taking it all in. Like even as it was happening I knew I'd recall it like a dream."

Theirs was a sweet summer love. A tender fairytale I could see a shadow lingering behind. But I didn't dare tell her. I hoped that it was stay where it was and leave them be. She deserved a summer of love.

It made me wonder what was going on in Jakes mind. The opportunity to descend into sexual madness had presented itself twice now, and twice he hadn't tried to take my virginity. I questioned whether it was a long game he was playing, or if he simply did not desire to have it.

"Did you do it with Jake?" She asked, almost as if she'd heard the reverb of my thoughts.

I couldn't lie to her. "Not all the way. With him, it's like he's playing this long game. Almost like he can't bear to take it too far too soon."

I knew she would think that I judged her. But what one brother would do wasn't always going to be what the other did. She was well suited to Sam, and yet their shared penchant for chaos was the face of that very shadow I could see behind them.

"Do you love him?" She asked, yawning and rubbing her eyes as the sun crept in.

That was something which seemed to have a more simple response. I didn't know his favourite colour or the way he liked his eggs cooked. I didn't know what songs he liked to listen to in the car on long journeys, or if he ever sang in the shower. These were things I ached to know, and resolved to know in due course. The little things. It was the biggest thing which drew me to my conclusion.

"He took a risk coming to the church last night." I replied, feeling my eyelids grow ever heavy. "For that alone, I will love him."

It felt as if I'd only closed my eyes for a moment. I was drifting from a dream that I wouldn't remember when I opened them. I could hear familiar voices rising, my name somewhere on the breeze. Perhaps I was still dreaming? Somewhere in the distance I could hear my Father's voice. His venomous sermon waking me, and I sat bolt upright in a panic that I hadn't known would come.

I had no sense of the time. The sun was beating down from the centre of the sky, my curtains rippling in the warm summer breeze as my window sat at half mast. And outside the peace of the afternoon was broken by the sound of my sister's screams.

I grabbed my robe off the hook on the back of the door and flew downstairs. The front door was wide open, so rarely was it ever left like that; I knew immediately that something was wrong.

My Mother was standing on the porch, pacing a little as she watched from her safely appointed spot in the background. My Dad was standing at the foot of the driveway, holding Jolene back as he pointed an ominous finger at Sam. He was flanked by his older brothers, who were trying to convince him to pull back. Jolene was crying. Tears streaming down her face, begging to be let go of. Trying to rip at Dad's shirt, like an animal caught in a snare trying to fight for it's life.

The moment I appeared Jake's eyes lost their focus. He let go of his brother. Bile began to rise in my throat and I shook my head, terrified that he was about to move towards me. The very motion of my head seemed to break his heart. He would have made his claim, would've fought for me. But now was not the time.

"Please, Mr. Jones. Just hear me out!" Sam pleaded, trying to reach for Jolene. "I love her, Sir. I wont hurt her, I promise!"

It was as if he couldn't feel the push and pull of his daughter who wriggled on the end of a hook that only he had the power to reel in. He barely shook against the onslaught of her efforts to break free. His eyes burning into the boy who had come to ask for his permission.

"You set foot over here again, boy, and I'll call the police. You hear me?!" He threatened, "This is my land. My daughter."

Josh was still fervently attached to Sam's shoulder.

"With all due respect, Sir, my brother is a good person. He doesn't mean any harm to your daughter." He reasoned, holding a palm up towards my Dad to signal a cease fire. "We only live across the street. Only seems natural they'd take a liking to each other."

He didn't know it, but he was kicking the hornets nest. I wanted to intervene, feeling useless as I stood there with a voice that couldn't speak and feet that wouldn't move. I felt no better than my Mother as I watched the screen door over at the Kiszka house fly open. Their sister appeared, trying to explain what was going on in violent hand gestures, as their Mother stormed across the front yard and over to where her boys were trying to avoid a scuffle.

"Marie, come and take your daughter." Dad said calmly, shoving Jolene back towards the house as my Mom scurried down the porch steps to retrieve her.

I stayed close by. I didn't know what else to do.

"Boys, get back in the house!" She demanded, pulling them apart like rubber bands. "Mr. Jones, I know you're a well respected pastor in this town but I don't like your attitude towards my family. We welcomed you in to the street, we were met with indifference. So I'd kindly ask that you don't raise your voice or your hand to my son again!"

The way she stood there, fierce and unflappable. I'd only seen her a handful of times, taking groceries into the house or tending to her flower beds around the edge of the porch. Sometimes she would sit with Mr. Kiszka on the porch of an evening. The two of them sharing a drink and watching the world go by. That sort of slow living I thought only existed in movies.

"You keep those feral mutts away from my girls." Dad argued, that terrible finger of devout judgement mere inches away from her face.

But she remained unperturbed. Josh and Jake lingered at her back, Jake not knowing whether to stay behind his Mother or come to my side. I continued to subtly shake my head every time I caught his eye.

Mrs. Kiszka, with her arms folded and her eyes wide with rage, kept her lip tucked firmly under her teeth as she weighed and measured my Father. I noticed Ben lingering by the garage door, an oily rag in his hand and the car bonnet propped up as he stared at the chaos unfolding. An onlooker, no better than I. And I hated myself for it.

"If my feral mutts go anywhere near your girls, it's because they were invited." She bit back, keeping her voice low and steady. "It only seems hospitable that we extend the invitation right back."

Such poise and grace deserved accolades. She took a few tempered steps back, raising a cheerful grin as she looked back at the house and regarded only me and my sister.

"Girls, you are more than welcome over at our house any time." She said sweetly, "You know, it's downright cruel the way you keep them cooped up like that during summer."

She gathered up her boys and began the triumphant walk back across the street. I knew the rage that simmered beneath my Father's still frame was unfathomable. He remained where he stood for a few more moments, deftly trying to fight against raising his voice or going over there to continue the fight.

I left him there. Taking Jolene from my Mother, ushering her back inside to calm herself. Utterly broken by the events that had unfolded. I looked back only once, to see Jake staring at me from his driveway.

Dad went into his office and slammed the door behind him, the sound shaking the walls of the house. I sat Jolene down at the kitchen table and made some tea, her face all pink and blotchy from the tears. I could hear the sound of lawn mowers humming outside in the distance, and Ben hammering away at something in the garage.

Like it had never happened.

But it had. And there was no going back from it. Shaken and ruined by it, I sat holding her hand. Trying to ignore our Mother as she appeared, cleaning away the dishes at the sink as if she was looking for something to occupy herself.

"You girls, you know you shouldn't get him angry like that." She dithered, almost as if she couldn't see the state in which Jolene remained in. "It's so much easier to just... not push his buttons."

"And I suppose by not pushing his buttons you mean never speak a word, stay in our rooms and be on our best behaviour at church?" I replied, urging Jolene to drink her tea.

She pushed it aside. "I don't care what anyone says, I won't be kept apart from him."

Mom dropped a glass in the sink. "Oh, Jolene... you know your Father just wants the best for you. To marry a good Christian boy from the church."

"I don't want no one but Sam!!!" She yelled, our Mother flinching back as if she'd thrown hands. "You'll never understand! Just because that's what you did, it doesn't mean that's what I have to do! Look at you, like a frightened little puppy! Scared of what he'll say if you step out of line! I'm not afraid anymore. And if you want me to stop seeing Sam, you'll have to kill me."

I didn't know it at the time, but Jolene had set in motion a course of events that would never be able to wash it's hands clean of the blood that would be spilled. I would often think back to that day in the kitchen and hear the sound of that glass shattering in the sink, our Mother's hand bleeding out under the run of the faucet. And I would wonder what might have been if she'd just kept it a secret a little while longer.

That night, I couldn't sleep. My pattern ruined from the previous night of wakefulness and the day I'd spent catching up. Unable to settle in my bones thereafter, after being woken so abruptly. Jolene had spent hours beneath her blanket, refusing to be comforted. Sobbing into her pillow until her breath had gone shallow and I could discern the waves and depth of sleep that had taken over.

I kept the window half open. The heat still bearing down, even when the sun had set. The trails of the night breeze gliding over my leg as I hitched it over my blanket and tried to distract myself with a book.

The way that Jake had looked at me was etched in every single thought I had. Barely able to eat supper at the excrutiatingly silent dinner table, unable to focus on anything but the way he'd wanted to step to me. That same tangible desire that was being screamed out of Jolene's lungs existed within mine.

Only mine was a little quieter. A little more serene. But no less bold in it's approach. I wanted him so bad I couldn't read any of the words on the page. I had to actively stop myself from going to the window to see if he was waiting there with a sign. I knew that if I did I wouldn't be able to stop myself from climbing out and going to him.

I didn't need to wonder, though. The night was so thick with atmosphere, the sound of the crickets had shrouded his movements. It wasn't until his hands curled around the window frame, pulling it open as wide as it would go, that I looked up from my book and felt my heart begin to rage within my chest.

He fell into the room, knocking over my pencil pot as he climbed over my desk. Admonishing himself as Jolene stirred a little, but did not wake. He silently placed the pencils back where they belonged and stealthily moved over to my bed.

It felt as if I hadn't seen him for days. About to whisper my fears as he placed a warm hand to my mouth and hushed me before I could utter one word.

"Ssssh now." He whispered, "You don't want to get us caught, do you?"

I shook my head with his hand still firmly planted there. His body was firm against mine, his eyes scanning my face in the low, golden glow of my bed side lamp.

"You sure do look pretty when you're all tucked up in bed like that." He said quietly, smirking as he released me. "Get dressed. Meet me out on the porch roof."

I glanced at my alarm clock. It wasn't yet midnight. I knew that if I could slip back in before sunrise, the risk would be lessened. I thought about it as I watched Jake climb back out, waiting until he was completely through the frame before yanking off my night gown and carelessly picking up the first thing I could grab out of my closet. Conscious that one creak of the floor boards could wake Jolene.

Would I even care, even if I did get caught sneaking back in? Would the consequence be worth it? I clasped my bra on, pulling the straps over my shoulders as I shimmied into a pair of white linen shorts and a blouse. I shoved my feet into a pair of sandals and knew that the regret would haunt me for the rest of my life if I didn't climb out of that window right then and there.

The sight of Jake in the summer moon, silver light illuminating his side profile as he sat on the edge of the porch roof waiting me, it was all I needed to know that I might never climb back inside the window. He was looking up at the stars, completely enchanted by the expanse of little white dots scattered across the noir. And when he noticed me, his face transformed from one of spacial wonder to one that knew it's home when it saw it.

"Do you trust me?" He asked solemnly, extending his hand for me to take as I climbed out.

He was wearing a muted purple t-shirt, ripped at the hem and paired with a pair of washed out old levi's. His hair hadn't been brushed, I could make out the knots even in the light of the moon. The wild elements of him only serving to make my heart beat faster. There wasn't anything about Jake that made me think that I was about to enjoy a peaceful evening. Everything about him had my danger receptors firing in all cylinders. And yet, I did trust him.

"Why, shouldn't I trust you?" I asked, letting him guide me down the trellis that ran down the side of the porch, his hands reaching for my waist as he helped me onto the ground.

"That very much depends." He fired back, "If your Dad intends me to bring you back without knowing how much I've fallen in love with you, then no."

His words stilled me. There under the moon, he caught me with a gentle gaze that guided me into a kiss that could have been witnessed by every eye in the whole world and I wouldn't have cared. His palm rested on my cheek, his hips angled towards mine. Heaven tasted like his tongue which gently probed into my mouth and brushed over mine, sending a rush of arousal to my beating pussy.

"What happened today shouldn't have happened." He said, keeping his forehead rested against mine. "I can't pretend that I understand why the fuck your Dad is such a narcissistic bastard. But I'll take you the fuck away from here. Just say the word. I've been working at my Dad's music store, saved up enough to get my own car. A little left over, too. We can go anywhere you want. I'll look after you, Bonnie."

I almost died inside at the sentiment. Waves of heat and flutters of excitement churned away in my stomach as he awaited my response. There wasn't a single condition to the way that I loved him. I didn't know how or why or even when I knew that it was love, the exact moment I could have hand picked from the little ones we'd shared. But I knew, beyond all conviction, that I would have followed him into the fire and brimstone of hell if that was where he was destined to go.

Jake made the dead parts of me breathe again. The parts of me that I'd long since disregarded and thought could never be resurrected. And I wanted so badly to honour that. To take his hand and let him lead me as far away from Beech Run as was humanly possible. But I couldn't leave Jolene. Not with the threat of the days events still hanging over her head. Without me, there was no guiding light for her.

"I promise." I whispered against his open mouth. "One day I will ask you to take me away from here. But not yet..."

For now, I let him take me across the street and up the gravel of his driveway. Every light in his house was out, save for the flicker of something glowing behind the half raised garage door.

"I meant what I said." He reminded me, stopping right before he would open it fully. "I'm gonna show you how much I've fallen in love with you."

"Maybe I'll show you." I countered, leaving him a little bewildered as he pushed up the garage door.

"You deserve to have beautiful memories. I really hope this is one of them."

The garage was only a small space. Littered with music paraphernalia. Multiple piles of vinyl in cardboard sleeves. A few stereo systems of varying degrees of use were dotted about. There was a drum kit right at the back and a set of guitars leaning on stands sitting on a moth eaten old carpet. On the walls there were posters, some of them lovingly placed in glass frames and others haphazardly tacked to the wall and ripped at the edges. I didn't recognise any of the faces in the images, but they looked like musicians or from movies. In the centre of the room was a couch with a pull out bed. He'd taken the liberty of making it up, surrounded with pillows and several blankets and comforters like he'd tried to build a soft little nest.

And all around the room were the dainty flickers of tea light flames. Hundreds of them, lovingly placed and ignited to fill the room with a soft glow that gave me a lump in my throat as I looked at what he had done for me. If he had wanted me to remember this, it would always stand proudly at the front of everything I did that summer.

"You did all this, for me?"

He went over to one of the stereo's and at the very top was a record player. He set the pin into the grooves, and let it begin to spin. I didn't recognise the song, but it set the mood perfectly.

"This is the least of what I'd do for you." He said, pulling me in to slow dance as I rested my head against his shoulder. "And when you finally decide to run away with me, then you'll know how far I'm willing to go."

We made out on the pull out bed for a little while. His smile as I kissed his teeth made him giggle, sharing laughter as we kissed amongst the piles of vinyl and instruments. I could have stayed like that forever, just taking in the memory of his lips and the way it felt to have his arm tucked beneath my head as he pulled me in. Sometimes his hair would fall out from behind his ear and sweep across my cheek, making me shudder at the sensation of it. And he would gallantly tuck it back, taking a moment to catch my expressions in the candle light.

"Tell me what you know about sex." He said, playing with the cord on the waist band of my shorts. "Do you ever think about it?"

I suddenly felt so very small in his arms. "Of course I think about it."

The steady beat of his heart became so erratic I could hear it in his breath. He was doing anything to distract himself, twirling the little string of fabric between his fingers and only looking at me when I hadn't said anything for a while. Like he'd been waiting for me to speak and didn't want to break the spell.

"I know enough about sex to know that I think about it." I offered, "Why do you ask?"

He couldn't look me in the eye, then. Preferring to shoot his gaze at the stereo, the clear plastic hood of the vinyl section propped up like a car bonnet as the pin skipped over to the next song.

"What I did to you in the church... and in the field the other day... I don't want you to think that it's all I want." He sounded sincere, bringing his eyes back to me after he'd finished speaking.

I could see the conflict. His desire to protect me and fuck me at odds with one another. I pulled him into another superfluous kiss. It had been enough for him to do all this for me. To lay the bed out with all the soft comforters and pillows and light all the tiny little tea candles, pick out his favourite music and making sure he said all the right words.

"But I also want you to know that I would do it all again. Over and over. Because your body does something to me that is beyond all fucking reasoning." He trailed his hand down from my throat into the valley of my breasts. "It started the first time I saw you in the window. Took every ounce of strength I had not to get too hard. And then when I saw you coming towards me down by the creek, I felt dizzy for the first time over a girl. I wanted to give you something, something that would make you feel good. But I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to know what you felt like. I couldn't get the thought out of my head for hours, even in the church I wanted to pull your panties all the way down. I wanted to just pull my zipper down and let it happen. But I knew that if I did, I'd regret it. You deserve to be courted sweetly. Not spanked to the edge of tolerance under God's roof..."

"I liked it." I cut him off, his fingertips pushing the edge of my blouse away from the curve of my breast. "I'm not made of porcelain, Jake. I wont break. I've been treated like I shouldn't be exposed to sex my whole life. Like it was a dirty sinful thing that would land me a one way ticket to hell. I don't care where I end up after I die. I just want to live..."

"Then we'll live." He agreed, wordlessly tugging at my clothes until he had taken them off and thrown them down by the bed.

In my underwear, I'd been conditioned to feel shame. But there was nothing but power there as Jake knelt at the foot of the bed and stared at me as if he'd unearthed buried treasure. His tongue sat the edge of his teeth, his eyes moving down from the way my hair tumbled over my breasts right down to the curve of my ankles.

"You ever seen a hard cock before?" He asked, shedding his t-shirt and unbuckling his belt. "I don't want to scare you."

I couldn't help but giggle. "I'm not afraid."

Perhaps there was a part of me that was curiously on edge. It wasn't fear, but as he began to take apart his zipper I could feel the apprehension rise. He didn't take his eyes off me. Carefully watching for my reaction as he pushed his levi's down. Beneath the fabric of his white boxer shorts I could make out the line of his cock. He gripped it tightly, giving it a little shake as he released some of the tension.

"It's not fully hard yet." He explained, "Do you want to touch it until it is?"

I swallowed thickly, the lump in my throat somehow bigger as he kicked off his jeans and scrambled up the bed to lay back down at my side.

"Show me how you like to be touched." I said, letting him guide my hand over the bulge, almost like the fabric between his flesh and mine was a slow introduction to how he liked it best.

"Just wrap your hand around it." He instructed, watching as I coiled my fingers around the shaft. "Yeah, just like that. And then squeeze it a little. And move up and down slowly."

The pulse quickened immediately. A rush of blood taking him to a solidness I hadn't expected. And it made me wet. I could feel the crotch between my thighs grow moist, and he noticed it too. Tracing the line of fabric that had darkened in colour, breathing heavily as he ghosted a feather light touch over my mound.

"I'm trying to take it slowly, but I need to have your body free of these..." He pulled on the waist of my panties, moaning softly as I continued to move my hand precisely the way he'd told me to.

"We're always trying." I mused, rolling onto my back so that he could take my underwear off. "Trying to be good. To work hard. To do what's right. Why don't people ever try to do what they want, what they need?"

"Oh, they do." He replied, peppering my breasts with kisses as he unclasped my bra and threw it down with the rest of my clothes, his body above me as I looked up at him. "They just don't talk about it."

The way he slid down my body, taking my panties with him, I couldn't bear it. " Oh...I guess that makes sense."

His head snapped up from covering my stomach in soft little kisses. His hair already knotted up and fucked.

"For instance, right now all I want to do is make love to you. But that's our little secret. Nobody else gets to ruin this for us. This is ours. Between nobody but me and you. Ok?"

I barely noticed that he'd rendered me naked. I laid there without a stitch on, his body lingering above me as I watched him move back. He was so beautiful. I couldn't take my eyes away from how his stomach moved as he breathed. The way his messed up hair sat at his shoulders. Even his thighs were making me feel like I'd never really been alive up until this moment. I'd just existed through out a series of events that had brought me here.

"You have no idea how possessed I am by you." He told me, sliding his hand down behind the waist band of his boxers as his eyes closed a little. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you bewitched me."

There was humour in his inflection, enough that it drew a breathy little giggle as he pulled out his cock. He let his boxers fall to the ground, observing me as I laid on the little nest he'd built for us.

"It's got a hold of me, too." I confessed, "Whatever this is. I'm a part of it."

It seemed to be enough that we were both entangled within this spell. He stood there gently stroking himself as I parted my legs. Letting him enjoy the view, taking in the sight as I watched him right back. He seemed to know the pattern of his own touch, letting his cock stand as he rounded a palm over his balls and left a shimmery trail at his bellybutton as his tip leaked.

"I don't want to wait anymore, Jake."

There were such things as ghosts. Not the people who had once lived and had died, but the versions of ourselves that had been and were never more. I felt like a ghost as he coveted me. My thighs welcoming his body between them and the rush of arousal that flooded every nerve ending was like lightening striking the earth.

I didn't quieten myself for Jake. For him, I did not enter a room as if I were not invited. For him I opened up, offering him my heart and my virginity; the two things perhaps the greatest gifts I had to offer him. And there was no confusion over what it meant to him. He laid down on top of me, holding his weight just enough so that I could feel his intention and taste his breath. The softness of his approach in direct contrast to the unrelenting hardness resting at the unopened door.

"Can you feel that?" He asked quietly, his lips brushing against mine. "It's all for you, Bonnie. All of it."

I knew he was mine the moment he shifted. His weight rolling down, hips dancing forward. And I was a vessel on calm seas. He didn't take his eyes from mine as he slowly entered. The tip just sitting in the tightness, stretching me out and making me wince a little. But it wasn't unbearable. I placed my hands around him, keeping him tethered. Ensuring no part of him would retreat if my expressions betrayed me.

"Ok?" He checked, moving a subdued kiss across my cheek bone, sweeping his lips across to where his whisper entered my ear. "Does it hurt?"

"Just keep going." I urged, certain that the burn and the ache would subside, "Don't stop..."

He let out the most delicious sound as he slowly continued to enter. Moaning softly, his breath warm against my cheek until he was entirely within me. And I could feel his groin rub against my thighs, soft pubic hair against my mound. And there he stayed, leaning up on forearms so that he could get a better look at me.

"I'm not going to fuck you, not yet." He explained, his palms coming to rest against my temples. "I just want to commit this feeling to memory."

I'd never felt more full. Almost like he was nearing the inside of my stomach, the pain and the sting of was worth all the misery of wondering what it would feel like. Because it simply wasn't how I could have ever imagined it.

"I love you, Jake." Was all I could fathom to say, staring up at his intense brown eyes that couldn't seem to look away from me.

He mouthed the words back to me, resting his forehead against mine, breathing a little harder as I clenched my pussy around him. The action was somewhat involuntary, as the inevitable burn began to lay waste to a feeling that was entirely new. With every flex he moaned again, and the melody of it drew a throb from me that almost demanded movement.

"So... tight..." He fought against it, keeping his cock nestled inside me, making a home for it as he buried his lips against my jaw and whispered sweet words that made me fall in love with him over and over again.

He would have stayed like that forever. And I would have kept him there for eternity. But the need and the animalistic urge to thrust was one I hadn't been prepared for. The way my body felt the rigid pull back was a delight. And the slow push back inside was delicious and my senses were spilling over with every thrust, every touch. Every breath and every kiss. Every word spoken and every soft moan. My mouth filled with his tongue, my fingers digging into the soft flesh at his waist. His cock slammed into me, fucked me and made love to me so softly at first and then when I couldn't stop myself from crying out he let himself take it a little harder, a little rougher until we were moving in unison.

"You feel so good, Bonnie." He told me, breathless between kisses, "I claim you..."

"I claim you, Jake..." I panted it, my voice coming out like a desperate whine that didn't quite sound like anything I'd ever spoken like before.

He seemed to like it. Bringing his mouth down to my hard nipples and clamping his lips around them. He sucked so gently, keeping his rhythm so perfectly I could feel my body start to vibrate. Overstimulated and ascending to the stars that he had promised me.

And yet, I had a feeling that he was nowhere near to being done with me.

To be Continued...

@caprisunsister @thewritingbeforesunrise @takenbythemadness @katuschka @its-interesting-van-kleep @lvnterninthenight @writingcold @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @edgingthedarkness @velveteencatch @lyndz2names @nina-23-45 @itsafullmoon y @char289 @dancingcarbon @gvfpal @violetstarcatcher @wetkleenex-gvf @jazzyfigz @gvfmarge @ignite-my-fire

#greta van fleet #jake kiszka #josh kiszka #fanfic #greta van fleet fan fiction #gvf #fanfiction #gvf fanfiction #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka x reader #sam kiszka gvf #sam kiskza #sam kiszka fanfic

98 notes · View notes

uchihaharlot · 5 months

Text

All this anti ship and hate has the windmill turning within me. Cooking up some of the most deplorable shit I can think of. To my regulars, I apologize if this isn’t what you signed up for.

Im still here, drafting your asks, but I have to feed the inner demon within me. The one that says do what the fuck I want and how I want it.

To the haters, this is for you. A more personal written ficlet. I hope it makes you wet and hard.

NFSW; age gapped familial fucking(eventually); reciprocated consent; Shisui x female (innocent and very virginal) cousin; yea I did it, again; tbc by @shisuis-left-nipple who is fighting the shipping war with me on this treacherous journey to whatever makes us horny. Fuck you, sincerely kiss my ass.

Great now you have me thinking about a very deplorable Shisui who is training with his younger female cousin. Of age of course; but he is older and wiser. Knows better. Still, he is a man and every so often his gaze catches the curve of her waist and the swell of her breasts while she maneuvers fluidly during their spars.

Teasing him with the forbidden fruit unknowingly. Goddamn it. He is a grown ass man with morals. These were not thoughts you had about your 19-year-old cousin. Especially one he took under a wing and taught all his soul into. It was wrong and perverted. But how more often than not cousins were betrothed to one another, even now. The Uchiha were just as close knit as any other clan. Shisui kept record of the family tree, she was his third cousin and by default appropriate age to be adorned by a man. Almost a distant cousin by genetic material. Yet they all had the same characteristics. Dark hair, eyes and porcelain skin. The resemblance uncanny as ever.

If she acted out of inexperience, he tried to not to notice. Why should she have to worry about the exploits of a man. A man who was her cousin, a guardian. Who watched her grow and nurtured her potential. At what point did she become a woman behind his own eyes? Kaleidoscopes rerun their lives through his front temporal lobe. A vain attempt to save his sanity, his wavering morality and her innocence….

In all his years Shisui never once questioned his genius, but today he did. When it tightened his slacks and twisted the kaleidoscope behind his eyes on immoral charges. Further implicating his situation to a dire and deep carnal vision.

No, he could not. Not even as she took that dip into the chill of the creek, were they always had their cool down from a long days training. Not when she removed jōnin slacks, jacket and under shirt. Leaving just her unmentionables. This was highly inappropriate and part of him felt he failed her, maybe he should have Izumi continue her training? Or rather she was too old for a mentor to begin with. That it would be more appropriate of he graduated her already, though selfishly, he won’t.

‘Shisui?’ Her voice, like summers monsoon. Addled his mind and muddied his thoughts in its wistful wake.

‘Yea…just a minute…’ his eyes were unkind to him. Selfishly taking in her figure as she dipped below the waters tension.

Regardless, he still took to the water in the same state of undress. Carried by an undignified truth of silence. He wondered if she thought the same of him. Maybe?

This wasn’t by any means the most self deprecating thing Shisui has done. Though he wasn’t a constant contender in the ways of soliciting attention from young women. He found the older to be better, but the sentiment between the two had not fallen short on the teetering tightrope of Shisui’s inner demons.

It danced and sang praise to his desires. Take her! Claim her! Has his PTSD really gotten the best of him? Would he now spend his days tormenting himself with the thought of her salaciously beneath him? Is this how he would cope with returning from the war?

Y/n had missed him in his absence, this was why they still continued her training. The thought of letting her down again with another absence tore at him. No, he would just have to deal with it. With himself, after all. Life finds a way. Shisui could carry on and just let sleeping dogs lie.

When she splashed his stoic face in the water only then did he falter. An innocent attempt to garner his attention. “Shisui. You’re orbiting.” That he was, outer spacing the confines of his mind.

Herein lies where Shisui completely lost the respect for himself and his cock. The traitor only thought for itself and not for y/n. The leisurely way she trusted him moving hair from her eyes, a small but affectionate kiss to her forehead. Nothing out of the ordinary.

‘I am too old to be treated like a child,’ that playful retort sent Shisui further into the depths of his deplorable heart.

Yea… she was definitely too old to be treated like a child. Of course, the festering desire in the pit of his stomach churns. Shisui was bold; snaked an arm around her slick back and rested his hand over the small of it. Running the other up her forearm until his thumb rested in the palm of her hand.

She was not a child.

‘I can change that.’ Husky, warm. His breath thickens the air between them. Her sights zero in at his thumb in her palm before darting to red spun pearls.

The heat in her stomach pooled and flooded. Taken off guard but not unwelcome.

Oh.

Oh, how delicate was her skin on his, not nearly as calloused by her talent as his to decades. ‘Shisu-’ he slanted his lips over hers, cradling them in a delicate turn of the age kiss. One that matured a girl to a woman. She gave little resistance when his tongue ran the seam of her mouth and parted it for entry. Shisui brought her palm his thumb rested in to his hip and then cupped her cheek.

Delirious temptation. Right in his courtyard. Soft breaths flurried as she tried to regain her composure, a moan oscillated his mouth. The mixture of their hot air only fuels this delicate moment. If it weren’t for the cool water, Shisui might have had zero regard for her.

But she is his baby cousin, and he a man. Who else better to guide her into womanhood than Shisui of course. A selfish thought for a man hungered by greed, lust and apparently arrogance now. When had Shisui ever had what he wanted? The village only gave so much in return for his sacrifice. Blood and hard work, scars and that old resentment of being ostracized.

Yet, somehow he managed to pull himself together and part from her, leaving her breathy and confused and wanting. He doesn’t want to overwhelm her or push her, he is feeling guilty enough as is. Still, he is only a man. The forbidden fruit of his desires dangled in front of him, right within reach and his for the taking. Shisui’s mind flooding and inundating him with all the images he suppressed these past months.

Now, having felt her, touched her, kissed her, he can’t help himself. His pants never felt tighter, his treacherous cock deciding all by itself that his cousin is the home it wants to make comfortable in. He is so hard it borders on painful. Even worse, the water clearly giving away his intentions. It made his drawers stick prominently over his protruding arousal. Y/n’s eyes plastered at its immaculate sudden growth.

It was merely a kiss…and some tongue. Ok the bold touch to her back and cheek. It seemed it didn’t take much to rile the Uchiha up. ‘….let’s call it a day.’ Shisui felt so small saying those words. His younger cousin didn’t part with much else either, just flushed cheeks and a nod. This unspoken promise left Shisui feeling more dereliction than that selfish gratification he desperately sought.

Their walk home was grueling and quiet. Words could not describe the stagnant air that seemed to suffocate them both and forced them to maintain several feet of distance. Once out of the woods Shisui shuttled her home in a quick Shunshin of shame. Something that, in her younger years, they enjoyed the turbulence of. Was now a grim reminder that everything changed at the drop of a kunai. He begrudgingly watched as she entered her home. Less than a skip from his own, he was at his back door in half a flicker.

TBC. 😌 part 2

#shisui uchiha #shisui headcanons #uchiha shisui #shisui uchiha x reader #shisui x reader #shisui smut #shisui x y/n #shisui x you

59 notes · View notes

the-starryknight · 3 months

Text

last lines of longest fics

thank you for this tag, dear @magpiefngrl <3 this was an interesting exercise! of course, few of my fics are all that long, but some patterns emerge here nonetheless.

A Room Up There (And You In It) (drarry, T, 60k) It felt glorious. It felt right. It felt like home.

Meet Me at Midnight (drarry, T, 57k) Draco smiled, eyes crinkling. "Good morning, Harry."

“Good morning.”

Two Zinnias and the Scent of Lemon (drarry, M, 17k) The gallery entry was filled with a team of half a dozen Aurors at minimum. Harry cast first, hands moving, sending a powerful Protego around them.

And they were off. Back into the fray.

Sleight of Hand (drarry, E, 15k) “Like I said,” Malfoy drawled, eyes over the coffee cup to Harry, steely gray and deeper, more serious than they had been so far. “We make great allies.”

Saltwater Stain (drarry, M, 9k) The water spray intensified, blue-green and wrong coming from the showerhead. Harry reached for the door behind them but found it locked. Draco took his hand; they were one, unbreakable.

Harry held him. What could it possibly offer them? They were together, a sturdy mast to weather any storm. The scent of saltwater filled the room, seaweed gurgling in the drain.

Split Figs in Summer (drarry, E, 8k) Under the sky full of glittering stars, Harry whispered a promise into his skin, “We’ll work on tomorrow together.”

Any Way You Slice It (wolfstar, E, 6k) He kissed me then, tasting like butterbeer and oranges and the June sun, and I would swear the world just held its breath for us. There was no war, no noise. Just the wind ruffling through his scruffy hair, and his hands on my hips, and his lips on my nose. Just the two of us.

The Art of the Matter (drarry, E, 6k) Draco pushed Harry onto the bed with a final shove and Harry went willingly, joyfully even, laughing as Draco knelt between his trousered-legs. Draco smiled at that too, skin singing with the thrill of their success. He kissed Harry with no hesitation, smiling into the kiss. Draco murmured against his skin, “As if I could ever be finished with you.”

Of Mirrors, Myths, and Men (drarry, E, 5k) “You’re beautiful,” Harry said, kissing his forehead. “I didn’t realize how much I wanted you till I started looking.”

I thought mates were a myth. Like the glass knitting itself back together, Draco thought they must belong like this, two shattered halves made whole. As if in any universe, they’d end up right back here, naked and breathless on the hardwood floor, a wing curled over Harry’s sleeping back.

“And now?”

“Now, I’m never going to stop.”

Surface Texture (Harry/Teddy, E, 5k) For the first time, I feel confident in asking. He wants me, and I him, and inside these doors, we have each other. Maybe I’ll draw us like this next, laid out together on the carpet, skin singing the same song.

patterns: evidently, I like ending with them lying together in bed/on the floor, or in an ambiguous "something more is about to happen but the central plot has been resolved" with no real in-between. lots of ending dialogue! there's even more of that in some of the shorter ones -- maybe a quality of my preference for the shorter form? something i'll be thinking about.

tagging whomever wants to play along! have at it, tag me if you feel like it.

#starry writes

47 notes · View notes

garbagechocolate · 1 year

Text

OC doodles

ft @nebuladreamz's monarch and @smoljeanius's Somi

219 notes · View notes

tripleyeeet-archive · 8 months

Note

*scrambles into your inbox*

Summer! Hi! Can I request a Loki blurb in which he and the reader reunite after some time apart. Perhaps it’s an unexpected encounter? Fluff, angst, hurt/comfort… I leave the details up to you! <3

SORRY FOR DYING

PAIRINGS: Loki Laufeyson & Gender Neutral Reader

SUMMARY: After going through the motions of his death, Loki decides to pay you an unexpected visit.

WORD COUNT: 964

WARNINGS: Angst, hurt/comfort.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: God, I honestly can't remember the last time I wrote for this bastard. That being said though, it kind of felt like coming home. <3

MASTERLIST

You see him everywhere. At home, at work —in random spots all over the city, haunting you like a ghost. He’s everywhere and nowhere all the time, popping up at random, reminding you of his absent presence each moment you think you’ve forgotten.

It never gets any easier. Already with so many reminders of him lingering throughout your existence, you find yourself frequently cursing your mind for playing such tricks. For making you feel like he isn’t truly gone but instead just missing. Hiding. Waiting in the wings until the cue is sound and he’s able to return with a bow.

You hate that you miss him. That despite everything you still look at him like he’s this light. A brightened star against the backdrop of an otherwise dull existence. Because deep down, you know you shouldn’t think like that. Considering you’ve got a good life —a nice job thanks to Tony, a decent apartment in one of the nicer neighbourhoods in the city, a close-knit set of friends and family that care.

Overall, you’re privileged in a way a lot of people aren’t. Having been blessed with more than enough to live a happy life, you know that thanks is the only thing you should relate to your life. That every time you lay your head at night you should just appreciate what you have rather than long for the one thing you let slip through your fingers time and time again.

God, you wish you could.

More than anything, instead of focusing on what you lost you wish you could feel acceptance. That, as you walk through the hallway of your apartment late one night, eyes half closed with exhaustion, you wish you could envision anything but him crawling through your fire escape.

Swearing under your breath, you rub your eyes and tell the vision to go away —to leave you alone just this once because you’re too tired.

Having dealt with a seemingly endless trail of paperwork thanks to some stunt Tony had pulled at a gala last night, the last thing you want to clearly see is him draped in all his colours, using his magic to push open the window before crawling inside. No, instead you want to lie on your couch and watch reruns of your favourite show until you fall asleep. To escape reality for the remaining time you have left.

Except you can’t. Not when he’s huffing into the air, his chest heaving once then twice as he looks towards your frame, blinking.

Angrily, you groan and palm the sockets of your eyes, forcing your mind to reset its cruelty as you begin to turn on your heel, suddenly feeling a hand.

It locks roughly against the space above your elbow, pulling you slightly back. In response, you drop your hands reluctantly and turn to look, seeing the vision from before mold into something real. Tangible in a way that has your heart pounding in your chest —your eyes searching for potential signs of error.

Quicker than anticipated, you find that there are none. As you stand before him, taking in the uncharacteristic warmth that radiates across his skin, creating pools of sweat across his brow, you realize he’s really there. Standing in front of you, gripping your arm. Holding you with such deep distress you can practically feel the tremors of his anxiety.

“You’re alive.”

The words sound wrong. Like the lies you often heard spilled from his lips, it feels like you’re at the opening of another trick, waiting at the entrance for the punchline to hit.

“I am.”

“How?”

The edge of his lip twitches, as if he’s prepared to offer you that signature smirk before he realizes that he shouldn’t. You’ve just found out he’s alive after all, and as funny as it would be to downplay the situation as nothing more than just another game, you both know the thing you need most is comfort.

“It’s, uh, it’s complicated.”

He licks his lips as he looks you over, taking in your features, familiarizing himself with their placement despite already committing them to memory.

Somehow you look the same yet completely different. A copy of yourself, he decides.

“Complicated,” you repeat, practically gnawing your own words through clenched teeth as you feel his grip begin to loosen.

Neither of you know what to say then. Considering you hardly spoke of the issues spread between you when he was alive, it feels wrong to start now. To pretend like suddenly everything’s okay. Because even if his death could signify a clear upheaval of old habits, you know deep down he’ll never change. He’ll always be the same complicated, stubborn God just like you’ll be the headstrong to a fault mortal he mistakenly fell in love with.

“So, uh how—how’ve you been?”

His voice crashes through your skull despite being barely above a whisper. Wreaking havoc amongst your thoughts, it’s the kind of ridiculous question that manages to distract you long enough to forget that sometimes your body tends to detach from your mind. Doing whatever it wants in the form of stepping into his space and grabbing hold of his waist, you pull him roughly towards you, feeling your mind immediately calm.

“Terrible.”

Pressing your cheek against the leathers of his armour, you feel his awkward chuckle reverberate against your skin, reminding you of the few times things were good. Easy. Moments where instead of forcing yourself to hate him in between arguments you were able to just exist with him.

“I’m assuming that’s my fault.”

You feel his arms wrap around you then, weaving through your nervous frame to settle against your shoulders as he places his lips to your head, as if to say I’m sorry for dying, please forgive me.

TAGGING: @just-someone11, @linaax, @eleniblue, @infinitystoner, @ozymdias, @use-your-telescope, @liminalpebble, @freegardenbanananeck, @lokixryss, @unlucky-number-13, @violethaze, @coldnique, @mischief2sarawr, @jasperthechaosgremlin@evelyn-kingsley

#sorry for dying #loki blurb #loki fan fic #loki laufeyson x gender neutral reader #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson x you #loki x gender neutral reader #loki x reader #loki x you #summer writes

113 notes · View notes

inkblot-inc · 8 months

Text

The Widow's Nest

Summary: There are plenty ways one could choose to handle their issues: knitting, drawing, sex, taking up a sport.....wait sex?-

Pairing: Mutant!MobbBoss!Wanda Maximoff x Hyena!Mutant!Reader

[S.S AU Masterlist]

Warning(s): This is a dark AU, so 18+ ONLY MEANING MINORS DNI....Anteeways- There isn't a fully explicit sex scene in here, but there are some pretty obvious indicators of sexual content. Pretty brief tho. Dark Themes; it's probably best to just assume language is in this too.

Note(s): there's nothing especially spooky-ooky about this one, but we're back on it for Friday the 13th. We're also jumping back to the past buddy! Timeline-wise, this is not too long after A Simple Meet-Cute, so we'll see what we get up to this time around. I hope y'all enjoy :3

Word Count: a bit more than 2k

ALSO: *squints* I give NO ONE permission to repost or translate my work. Make your own shit

Solace for some is in the company of their own mind. To have time to recoup and separate from others. For some…

The streetlights highlighted your face as you stood in front of the building, your blank stare directed at the “Club 69” sign before going around to the back of the building. Brushing past inebriated patrons as you made your way through the cramped alleyway. You eventually reached another entrance with no one else around.

Walking up to the heavy door you watch as a small compartment slides open, eyes suddenly meeting your own.

Their eyes narrowed. “Special entry only.”

You held their stare, “I'd-....like in.”

You watched them eye you up and down for a second, “'You don’t need many hands to make light work,'”

Nodding along, you pulled your hood down exposing your face. You took a deep breath at the strain you were putting on your voice. “'....Need busy work-... for idle hands.'”

Their eyebrows quirked upward before the person behind the door closed the slot without another word. You heard the door unlock from the inside, the door eventually sliding open.

The person behind the door was a tall and muscular woman pulling down her face mask, her eyes changing with her pupils becoming side slanted.

She chuckled as she watched you work your jaw in the red hue of the hallway. “You’re back early, Y/n," The dark-skinned woman handed you a water bottle for your throat. "Should I get Violetta or Summer? I think both are free right now,”

Your ear twitched, “Both.... I'll pay more, Dee.” You stayed put after you handed crumpled bills to the bouncer. As you watched her head to the back, the moans from the occupied rooms already fogging up your mind. Just what you needed.

Dee comes back with another woman in tow. One that you vaguely recognize by the fairy-like wings that sprouted from her back and stood out against her honey bronze skin.

'Purply-pink bug wings = Letty.'

She sends you a smile as she catches sight of you. The corner of your mouth twitches upward as you focus on her taking your hand to lead you to an unoccupied room. Violetta blows out the scented candles that were left burning in the room. The lighting is dimmer, but your nose is more than grateful for her consistent attention to detail.

Violetta finally gets to closing the door, but she doesn't turn the lock as she looks at you from over her shoulder, "Summer is on break, but she'll be done soon enough. She heard Dee say you were here." Violetta strode over to you before planting herself in your lap. "Until she comes~ we can have plenty of fun ourselves, don't you think?" Your eyes focused on her own deep browns while your hands found purchase on her hips.

The pleasant fog began to build as you focused soley on the beautiful woman in front of you. Your hands tangled in the back of her dark waves as you brought her into a feverish kiss.

You fought against the ache in your muscles as you used Letty the way you needed to. You couldn't help but chase the fog that Letty brought with her contact, to relish in the intensity each of her orgasms hit her with while she tugged on your hair, the urge and the need to stay in the moment with her moans accompanying you out of the dark of the past.

This is your peace.

Neither of you stopped indulging in each other when you heard the door open, assuming it was Summer finally come to join. Violetta was the one to eventually look up and realize it was Dee at the door, not Summer. She lightly pushed your head away from her pussy to focus more on what Dee had said for the third time now.

You let go of one of Violetta's thighs as you turned to Dee and raised a brow in a mix of annoyance and confusion. “Mmm, what?”

Dee's face gave nothing away as she waited for both of you to be decent. "The boss wants to talk to you." Your eyebrows furrowed before looking at Violetta for some sort of answer. The winged woman only shrugged her shoulders, holding the bedsheet up over her breasts.

You got up from the cushy bed to put your hoodie back on and pick up Violetta's discarded clothes, handing them to her with a quick kiss to the side of her head. "You okay?"

Violetta let out a chime of laughter before she reached to caress your hand in her own. "I'm fantastic, baby. I'd be more concerned about myself if I were you though. Now, don't keep my boss waiting for too long." With a kiss to your hand, she lightly pushes you toward the door where Dee was patiently waiting for you.

Dee motioned for you to follow her to the back office, and you obliged while fixing the rumpled state of your clothes. Dee knocks twice before eventually opening the door.

Inside, you saw a blonde woman sitting at a desk wearing her own relaxed business attire.

“They're here, Yelena.” Dee stated from behind you now. The woman pulled the phone from her ear.

“Good. thank you, Dieufely.”

You were greatly confused now, ‘is there something wrong? Did I do something?’

Yelena eyed you up with a scrutinizing eye while she was on the phone until she hung up.

“It would be you, wouldn't it?” She was talking more to herself than she was to you.

Yelena got up from her desk and made her way over to you. Her eyes went from your pointed and slightly furred ears to your neck, which was covered by your hoodie. She went to pull down the collar of your hoodie when you grabbed her hand to stop her, leaning back slightly as a low rumble came through.

She made steady eye contact with you. “I just want to check something. Can I move this please?”

You slowly released her hand to let Yelena proceed as she moved to lower the collar and expose your scarred neck, running from the jugular notch up to the bottom of your jaw. The discoloring angry and obvious.

Yelena looked at the scar, nodding to herself before letting go of you. You moved the collar of your hoodie back in place as Yelena sent a message through her phone. Soon enough, another knock was heard at a separate door at the rear of the office and you looked over your shoulder as Yelena walked pass to open it. In came a familiar head of red hair, but this time she was alone.

“You rarely call in favors sestra,”

Yelena brought the redhead in for a brief embrace that she wound up returning after her initial stiffness.

The older woman sighed as she pulled away, “Well this is for Wanda, so that changes things.”

"Enough said. I will say it's unexpected, since Y/n hardly says a word to my girls, even as a regular.”

“I presume you know why.”

“Only until now. Not many people have their description, however, Discretion is a part of our policy at The Widow's Nest, you should know that, Natasha. It’s not my business. It still isn’t.”

"Well, you rarely seem to follow your own policy these days, so excuse me if I think differently." Natasha had a stoney countenance as she held Yelena's stare, the younger woman doesn't respond, but she also doesn't back down from the accusing tone.

You simply watched the two exchange words for the next while. The tension you'd sensed earlier seemed to have dissipated, so you allowed it. You didn't have anywhere to rush back to, and you were curious more than anything. Someone, presumably the woman that you helped at your job Wanda, was looking for you. Your eyes wandered around Yelena’s office, your interest quickly wandering. The two other women had yet to acknowledge you directly, but that was fine. Their conversation helped take the edge off, like white noise.

"She'll be pulling up soon to talk to them directly Now that they've passed her two-factor authentication."

And What does Wanda want with them exactly? I assume she's told you,"

"She wants to bring the unknown into our ranks. Wanda see's something in them that I haven't. She's been almost infatuated with them since last week."

"You believe that's all this is?"

That's all I can think it is. There are some decisions Miss Scarlet makes that even I don't understand. Not fully anyway." Natasha was exasperated, not at anyone in particular, but at the situation. She could never fully settle without having all the details of a plan. Hopefully the waters will be less muddled once Wanda makes her intentions clearer.

Another round of knocking comes from the rear office door, and Yelena goes to open it, revealing the woman you helped however long ago: Wanda. She takes her sunglasses off of her face, placidly folding them before setting them on the desk..

Wanda turns to Yelena first, giving her a brief embrace as well. "Thank you for looking into this matter for me. I do hope this didn't disturb your business, Yelena."

Yelena shrugs her shoulders impassively, "Not at all. my people just happened to be closer to this than I previously thought."

Wanda then shifts her attention toward you, who had yet to make their presence known while silently sitting in one of the extra office chairs.

"Ah you, Y/n. I hear you line the bras of all of Yelena's girls. Must be difficult to do with a job in a mutie diner." Wanda's tone is deceivingly conversational. Monica can't afford to pay well, and she has it on good intel that you don't work anywhere else.

You blink slowly, "I manage."

Wanda noticed a familiar orange gleam in your eyes; the same glow that made Hayward curl up and blubber well into his old age. Your eyes weren't as bright now, only a slight tinge was visible outside of your normal color. Curiosity drew Wanda back to your mind to find the answers for herself.

The orange glow your eyes cast was a second mutation you'd developed after being auctioned off to America. This mutation gave you the ability to draw fear out of others. By simply observing someone, you could pinpoint one's personal vices and reflect them back at your target to get them to cave in on themselves at varying intensities. Much different from simple intimidation.

From what Wanda could glean, you were semi-aware of this ability and how to use it and it only worked on the weak willed, and those you viewed as lesser than you. But there is much potential Wanda sees in you. Potential that Wanda can use.

The more Wanda prods around in your head, the number your memories feel, not unlike during your times with Summer and Violetta, except their aura's didn't leave your brain humming like Wanda's did. You could swear you felt yourself salivating, something akin to ravenous as you felt Wanda pull away from your mind.

"Please-" Your eyes were intense as you looked up at Wanda, your hand loosely clasping her wrist to keep her close. "Again...Please."

Wanda cocks her head to the side, not just to get a better look at you, but to show that she was pondering her next decision. "Just one time, dear?"

You wordlessly nod, your eyes wild and unfocused.

"It could be as often as you want if you agree to work for me. Not just for me, with me to shape the world for people like us." Wanda is aware that she's dangling a carrot in front of your face, but it's a necessary one to ensure you have an incentive to join and stay by her side. Even if you're only half listening, Wanda would bet anything you would say yes if you were at full coherence.

The carrot was just her insurance.

Wanda grasps your chin between her thumb and forefinger, light wisps of red seeping into you through your ears.

"Follow me."

#marvel #marvel one shots #the widow's nest #scarlet witch #wanda maximoff #mutant!mobboss!wanda #hyena!mutant!reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x yn #scarlet syndicate au #jc inkworks #ink.wanda #ib-jc.

82 notes · View notes

violet-shadows · 2 years

Text

Scary Stories

Masterlist

Summary: On a camping trip with the Inner Circle, a spooky tale has you leaning on Azriel for comfort.

Pairing: Azriel x Reader (She/Her)

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: none

A/N: Thank you to the anon that requested this!

⊱ —————— ❈ —————— ⊰

The Harvest camping trip had become something of a tradition for the Inner Circle, serving as a final hurrah before the harsh winter chill swept the Night Court. This was your third year attending with your mate and you were looking forward to the trip. There was something magical about snuggling next to Azriel by the fire and retiring to the quiet of your tent, huddled together for warmth under an endless sea of stars. Campfires, marshmallows, and ghost stories were the perfect reprieve from the stresses of daily life and you couldn’t wait to spend a few days in the wilderness with your family.

“Why are you bringing so many blankets?” You asked Azriel as you both buzzed about your bedroom, packing your bags for the trip. He was shoving yet another wool blanket in the trunk containing your camping gear and it had you curious, seeing as the shadowsinger was more than used to the cold.

“Do you not remember how cold you were last year?” He said, his tone playful. You thought back to the previous year’s trip when the unseasonable warmth in Velaris lulled you into underpacking on warm clothing. Azriel had fretted the entire time, disturbed by your constant shivering despite his best efforts to keep you warm. He had insisted that you wear his coat, but the draft let in by the wing holes made it largely ineffective. In the end, you spent the trip tucked into his side, one wing wrapped around your shoulder while you nursed mugs of warm cider. Those memories were some of your fondest.

“I’m dressing warmer this time, I promise,” you assured him, tugging at your chunky knit sweater for emphasis. He peered over at your bag suspiciously and nodded, but did not remove the additional blankets.

“Amren said she prepared a story for us this year,” he mentioned. “You ready for that?”

“I just hope it’s better than Cassian’s,” you replied. From down the hall, you faintly heard the General give an indignant shout. “Sorry, Cass!”, you called out. Both you and Azriel chuckled, recalling Cassian’s “scary” stories which ended up more comical than thrilling, but fun nonetheless.

“I think her’s will involve significantly less laughter,” said Azriel, “so brace yourself.”

“I’m counting on it,” you said, glaring when he gave you an incredulous look. “Oh c’mon, they’re just fun, scary stories.”

“Fun!” Cassian commented with a laugh as he passed by your open bedroom door, bags in hand. He didn’t stop to elaborate, so Azriel filled you in.

“Last time Amren told the stories Mor winnowed right back to Velaris and Rhys stayed up the entire night,” he explained. “Are you sure you won’t be scared?”

“Sounds like you’re the one that’s scared, Shadowsinger,” you teased and Azriel grinned at you.

“We’ll see about that, love.”

⊱ —————— ❈ —————— ⊰

The flight to the campsite offered a beautiful view of the Night Court landscape. The hills were lit up in hues of red and gold as summer gave way to autumn, and the crisp fall air was sweet in your lungs. The campsite sat at the base of the mountains near a small stream, far from any other settlements. Thanks to Rhysand’s magic, camp was set up swiftly and you were soon gathering around the fire for dinner and stories.

Mor started it out with a tale about a Bogge that stalked a maiden for all of her days, constantly lingering in her peripheral no matter where she went. A hush fell over the group as Mor narrated under a rapidly darkening sky, and when she finished, gooseflesh had broken out over your skin. You shared a look with Azriel, who wore a knowing smirk. “Are you scared yet?” he teased and you elbowed him in the ribs. The story was unsettling, but with Azriel at your side it was hard to find anything frightening.

“I seem to recall you having nightmares about the Bogge when we were young,” said Rhysand, returning to the group with more spiked cider. Azriel’s cheeks reddened slightly and you giggled.

“And should I bring up your first encounter with a Martax?” Azriel shot back, earning a laugh from the entire group. Another round of drinks was passed around as darkness fell, and soon the only light remaining was the warm glow of the fire. Azriel pulled you close, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and extending his wing to shelter you. You sighed in contentment, leaning into his touch.

“Amren’s turn,” Feyre announced, prompting the immortal. Amren’s stories were known to be terrifying and you were all eager, if somewhat nervous, to hear her tale.

She began to speak, her steady, dispationate intonation adding the ominous atmosphere. The story she told was long an winding, but enraptured you nonetheless. Soon, you found yourself on the edge of your seat, leaning forward as you listened intently. She spoke of a creature more powerful and frightening than any in Prythian, one so horrifying, she said, that Bryaxis looked like a kitten in comparison. The details came to life in your mind’s eye, and as the story went on, you felt your heartbeat quicken. Enthralled by Amren’s words, no one but Azriel noticed when one member of the group slipped away into the shadows. Just as she reached the climax, revealing a bone chilling twist, a great roar sounded from the trees behind you.

You screamed, jumping to your feet at the sound, along with most of the other guests. For a brief moment, you were frozen in terror until you heard a familiar, booming laugh. “Cassian,” Nesta shreiked indignantly, glowering at her mate. He continued to gafaw and soon, the rest of you were cackling as well.

“You knew,” you said, swatting at an amused Azriel. He shrugged, a rare, easy smile on his face, and you didn’t have it in you to be mad.

“I thought you said you weren’t scared, Y/N,” Cassian teased, reclaiming his spot by the fire. “You could have heard your scream in Velaris.”

“I was just… startled,” you lied, chuckling as you settled back in your seat. Amren finished the story, it’s conclusion both eerie and shocking, and your mind remained fixed on it, even while the others followed up with their own stories. The shadows cast by the firelight continued to catch your eye throughout the night, and an uneasy feeling rose within you whenever you glanced towards the dark forest.

You tried to hide how unsettled you were as you bid your family goodnight, walking into the woods towards yours and Azriel’s campsite. The forest seemed unusually alive and each snap of a twig or sway of a branch made you jump. Without the light of the fire and your family’s warm presence, the fear from before was no longer fun, morphing into an uncomfortable feeling in your gut.

Azriel, ever observant, wrapped an arm around your waist. “Are you alright, love?” he asked, sounding equal parts concerned and entertained. You nodded, swallowing thickly as you cast yet another glance over your shoulder, and Azriel chuckled.

“Don’t laugh at me,” you grumbled, wrapping your arms around yourself as Azriel moved to open the tent flap. A gust of wind whistled through the trees just then and you jumped, drawing a strangled gasp. Suddenly, sleeping in the dark forest did not sound like fun.

“Alright, come inside where it’s safe, love,” Azriel teased, beckoning you into your tent. While your mate would be able to sleep on nothing more than bare ground, he had taken care to make the shelter as comfortable as possible for your sake. You shed your outer layers, and the two of you slipped beneath several warm blankets on top of a plush mat. Outside, the wind picked up, and you shuttered, remembering the way Amren had described the creature’s voice, it’s hateful whispers carried on the breeze. “What’s wrong?” Azriel asked, no longer poking fun. He looked down at you, eyebrows furrowed in concern, and you wrapped your arms around him, inhaling his comforting scent.

“I may or may not be a bit… unsettled by Amren’s story,” You admitted, feeling your cheeks flush. A twig snapped outside and you held your mate tighter.

“You’re scared,” Azriel surmised, his quiet voice like velvet.

“Yes,” you said, closing your eyes. He wrapped both arms around you, tugging you even closer until you were nearly on top of him.

“You know I would never, ever let anything happen to you, right?” He asked, sounding earnest. His shadows, barely visible in the darkness, settle overtop of you both like a protective cocoon.

“I know.” And you did know. If there was one thing Azriel had proven to you time and time again, it was that you were safe with him, always. “The creature from the story was just…”

“Horrifying? Ghastly? Dreadful?” Azriel suggested and you chuckled, nodding your head in agreement. “Even if it were real, I wouldn’t let it get to you.”

“You’d fight it?” You asked, skeptical. The monster Amren had described was not one any warrior want to take on.

“If keeping you safe was my motivation,” he shrugged, running a comforting hand up and down your spine, “I’d fight the whole world.”

“Even a Bogge?” you teased and Azriel groaned, trying to hide the smile on his lips.

“I’m gonna kill Rhys for telling that story.”

⊱ —————— ❈ —————— ⊰

Likes, reblogs, comments, and feedback are greatly appreciated. Click here to check out my other work.

Taglist - All ACOTAR Fics:

@answer-the-sirens @microwaveallthedemons @judig92 @wolfyland07 @donttellthecats @goldentournesol @mulansaucey @starlit-terror @starrstrucked @bankerfrog @xxoverthinkxx @luv-xoxo @abrunettefangirlnerd @smellys-cats @crazymar15 @feyretopia @we-were-beautiful @simplywitchy @milllionthingsihaventdone @sevikas-whore @lunaralaraspace @sfhsgrad-blog @lucyysthings

Taglist - Azriel Only:

@reiincarnatiion @valeridarkness @hollyismentallyillhelp @gorgeouslysent @lost-in-lullabies @j-pendragonx @fromdelos @ellievickstar

✨CLICK HERE TO BE ADDED TO MY TAGLIST✨

#requests #azriel x reader #azriel #acotar x reader #Azriel x you #azriel fanfic #acotar x you #acotar fanfic #fluff #ff #my stuff

440 notes · View notes

buckysgrace · 9 months

Text

Break In

Billy Hargrove x Kim Mayfield

Kim hears something odd at night.

Warnings: CNC, knifeplay, hitting, spitting, degradation, light bondage

(No relation to the Cruel Summer series this was just for funsies)

Kim was stirred from her room by the sound of rustling in the kitchen. She paused as she held her red lipstick up, her lips neatly painted to match the gold on her eyelids. She was supposed to meet Addi tonight for a Halloween party.

She’d decided on an angel, thinking that it would be cheap and easy to make. She wore a strapless white dress that ended mid thigh, while a golden halo rested on top of her head. She’d made it herself, along with the glittery silver wings that she had resting on her back.

“Max,” She spoke as she left her room, sure that Max had once again left without taking an extra candy bag, “I told you-,” She froze, her movements going to a complete halt and limp as she stared in front of her. Where Max should’ve been rustling around, there was a man instead. It took another five seconds for Kim’s mind to kickstart before she was turning to run back to her room.

She yelped as he tackled her to the ground, her cheek digging into the floor harshly as he yanked her towards him. She screamed in protest, kicking at him and scratching at the floor in hopes that she could wiggle away fast enough.

“Stop moving,” He groaned in protest, his voice raspy and warm as he forced her onto her back and held her wrists together with one hand above her head. She whimpered as she darted her eyes around, searching for anything that may come to her disposal, “You weren’t supposed to be here.” He grumbled as he gripped her chin with his free hand and forced her eyes on him.

She felt fear fluttering inside of her as she stared up at a pair of bright blue eyes. She couldn’t see anything else, as his sky mask hid the rest of him away. She felt her lips trembling as he roughly squeezed her chin.

“Sorry,” She spit out between tears, “I was just getting ready to live.” She spit out in one breath, fearful of what he might do to her. She thought that this was her own fault for not locking the door like her mother had reminded herself to do multiple times.

“What am I supposed to do with you?” He tilted his head, looking down at her with a sense of anger in his eyes. As if she had done something wrong.

“I won’t tell,” She nodded her head quickly, hoping that she may reassure him, “Take whatever. I’ll never say a word.” She whimpered out, knitting her eyebrows together at how the grip on her wrists tightened.

“Bullshit,” He pulled his hand away to reach into his pocket before he popped his knife open. She felt her air turn into ice, “You’ll squeal like a little piggy.”

“No I won’t,” She whimpered, her words sounding far too quiet as she stared at the gleam coming off the knife, “Please.”

“There’s nothing here worth taking anyways,” He murmured as his eyes flickered down her neck. She winced underneath his grip, her arms feeling numb from how tightly he was gripping her wrists, “Well, maybe not nothing.” He added softly as he traced the knife down her white dress. Her eyes widened in fear.

“No,” She shook her head rapidly but then quickly stopped as he pressed the blade smoothly against her skin between her breasts, “Stop. Not that.” She felt humiliated as the coldness from the blade traveled across her too hot skin. Her nipples pressed uncomfortably against the material of her dress and she cursed herself for thinking it was fine to think she didn’t need a bra.

“Did I fucking ask?” He questioned hotly, his eyes burning with anger as he looked down at her. She felt tears prickling against the corner of her eyes as she shook her head no, feeling pathetic as the whimper left her mouth, “Do you wanna live?” He asked her seriously as he brought the knife up to her face. She felt her body stiffening underneath his grip.

“I wanna live,” She pleaded softly as his knife danced along the curve of her mouth, “Please. I’ll be good.” She was too afraid to move, too afraid to breathe in case he cut her with it. His knife looked dangerously sharp and begging to be used.

“You’ll do what I say?” He asked as he dropped the knife next to her head. She nodded, only to be smacked by him. It wasn’t hard enough to make her see stars and feel fuzzy, but just enough to make her cheek burn from where his skin had been.

“Yes, yes I’ll do what you say!” She cried out in protest, sniffling as he began to gently rub his thumb across her sore cheek. She found herself leaning into his touch, wanting to be comforted at the same time. Her bottom lip poked out and before she could react, he was spitting onto her pouted lips.

She stared up at him as disgust curled inside of her body, licking at her senses as his saliva trickled across her lips and eventually down her chin. She had no means of wiping it off. All she could do was sit there as amusement spread within his eyes.

He gripped her nose tightly suddenly, gripping it so harshly that her lips parted in surprise as she tried to jerk her hands forward. His warm spit fell into her mouth then, coating her tongue and teeth before she was eventually forced to swallow it. She felt a cry building up inside of her chest again.

“Are you an angel?” He observed as she writhed and cried underneath him. His lips curled up into a smirk, “Pretty blasphemous, don’t you think?” He tilted his head, like he honestly expected her to answer him. She whimpered, feeling relief spreading through her arms as he slowly released his grip on her.

Her arms were too numb, still buzzing as they slowly came back to life as he gripped the neckline of her dress and tore it easily in two pieces. She cried out, urgently trying to cover her boobs before he held out the knife to her chin again. She paused, stifling back a cry as she let her hands drop to her sides.

He seemed pleased then as he took his knife to her two tiny spaghetti straps and let the dress fall off of her body completely. The only thing that was keeping her covered was the pair of matching white panties that she also had on. Embarrassment and humiliation spread through her body as she refused to look at him, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of her reaction.

“S’pretty,” He mumbled out softly as he moved the blade down her narrow neck. She stopped breathing, didn’t even dare swallow as the blade trickled down her skin. It was still too cold, leaving a wake of goosebumps where it traveled, “I think you like it.” He teased as he brought the flat side of his knife against one of her nipples.

She jolted at the sensation, her body jerking upwards at how cool it felt over her skin. Her nipple pressed dangerously hard against it, as a gasp left her mouth. Her ears tickled as he laughed at her, clearly enthused at how easily she reacted against him.

“Please,” She begged him softly again, hoping that he may change his mind before it got too serious, “You can stop.” She breathed in deeply as he traced the sharp part of his knife against her nipple. She bit down on her bottom lip, trying to ignore the way her body was beginning to hum to life. She hated how her body reacted in bliss, clearly enjoying the sensation.

“I don’t think you want me to stop,” He grinned in amusement as he did the same motions to her other nipple. She gasped, her fingertips clenching tightly together. She was too afraid to move, to try to push him off in case he sunk the blade straight into her chest. She was sure he’d pierce the heart in this position. He moved suddenly, standing straight up before he roughly tugged her hair, “Up.” He demanded.

She cried out as he brought her onto her knees, wincing at how tightly he was gripping her hair. She shuffled uncomfortably in front of him, staring up with hazy eyes as the remainder of her dress fell to the floor behind her. All she remained in was her wings, halo and panties.

“You bite or use any of your teeth at all,” He warned as he roughly gripped her chin again, “And I’ll knock them out of your fucking head. Understand?” She stared up at his blue eyes, her mind feeling fuzzy as if his instructions were unclear. He roughly patted her cheek, drawing her attention back to him.

“Yes,” She blinked rapidly, spitting the word out as an uncomfortable feeling settled over her chest, “I’ll be good.” She promised, hoping that this would go by quickly. She figured it was better than dying. He jerked his head down, motioning towards his jeans.

Her hands shook as she slowly unbuttoned them, almost fearful as she was afraid of what awaited her. Her mouth turned dry once his cock was freed, her eyes widening at how thick and large he was. She felt her eyes drifting up towards him, like she could somehow make him understand that she couldn’t do it.

“It’s this or your life,” He reminded her simply as his tongue darted out across his teeth, “Your choice.” He said gently as he dangled her options over her head. She inhaled sharply as she slowly gripped his cock, her cheeks burning at the sound that left his mouth.

She tried to picture someone else, any other situation as she stroked him slowly in her hand. She could feel his cock throbbing to life, jerking in her hands as he continued to demand more of her. She stared uneasily, watching the precum that began to leak from his tip. He smacked the side of her head again.

She slowly let her tongue dart out to lick away the precum, her nose curling at the taste of him on her tongue. She closed her eyes, not wanting to see the cockiness in his eyes as she slid his cock inside of her mouth. She strained her jaw for a moment before she was able to relax as she began to bob her head up and down the length of his dick.

He was thicker than what she was used to and her jaw quickly began to ache as she kept her hands tightly between her knees. She kept her eyes closed tightly as the tip of his cock hit the back of her throat, making her gag around him.

She kept her movements slow, even though she wanted him to finish quickly. She was afraid if she moved too fast she’d accidentally graze her teeth against him or worse.

She let her tongue swirl around his throbbing girth, massaging against his veins as his fingers laced through her hair. It was like he’d grown bored with her slow movements as he was suddenly forcing his cock deeper and rougher down her throat.

“You can take it,” He spit out harshly between groans, his fingertips gripping her hair roughly as he jerked his cock deeper inside of her mouth. She gagged loudly as drool began to slip out of the corner of her lips, “Come on, be a good girl.” He pleaded with her as his cock weighed heavily on her tongue.

She felt herself jerking back, wincing at the tight grip he had on her hair and how roughly his cock kept pressing against the back of her throat. He was making it where it was hard to breathe, hard to think. He pulled away suddenly.

“Bitch,” He spat out as he roughly moved behind her and wrapped the belt tightly around her wrists. She winced, gaping at how tightly he held her arms in place, “You just can’t listen, can you?”

She whimpered, feeling a sense of fear pooling inside of her stomach again at the loss of her hands. He wasted no time before he was shoving his cock back between her parted lips and fucking her mouth as he pleased.

Tears pricked in the corner of her eyes at how rough his movements were growing. Each time she gagged she had a worrying feeling that she may vomit all over him. He groaned as he thrusted his hips forward, his cock warm and throbbing against her tongue as his movements became more rapid.

She felt her fingers digging into the belt as she wished she could push his muscular thighs away. He kept a steady grip on her hair as his cock continually pressed against the back of her throat. She gagged again, trying to lick away the spit before he was thrusting his cock deep inside of her throat again.

“Jesus,” Billy cursed as he pulled away, she licked at her lips to wipe away the trail of spit between her lips and his cock. She watched in confusion, her eyebrows knitting together as he moved to pull the ski mask from his face, “I can’t fucking breath in this thing.” He whined as he pulled it off, his cheeks red and hair messy.

“Hey,” She pouted as she sat back on her legs, “That was a part of your costume.” She whined in protest as she looked up at him. He shook his head quickly to dismiss her claims.

“Yeah, well you should try wearing it,” He grumbled as he tossed it mindlessly to his left. He pushed his hands through his curly blonde hair to situate it again, “It’s fine. It’ll fit in.” He shrugged her off.

“Are you done whining?” She asked with a soft laugh, feeling her heart flutter at the amused smile that curls on his lips. She can’t deny that she prefers him this way, seeing his face rather than it being hidden away.

“Yeah, yeah,” He shrugged her off, “Are you okay?” He asked cautiously as he rubbed his thumb and knuckles across her cheek gently. She turned enough to press her lips against his skin.

“Fine,” She told him eagerly, “Can we get back to it now?” She asked, feeling like she couldn’t handle her arms burning behind her back for much longer. She also didn’t like how his dick seemed to be getting softer. She squeezed her legs together, feeling her clit throbbing at the sensation.

He groaned as he pressed his tip against her pouty lips and slowly slid his cock back inside of her warm mouth. She licked around his cock, wanting to feel him pulsing inside of her again as she began to bob her head with his gentle thrusts. She hummed around him, peeking up at his lustful blue eyes as he filled out inside of her again.

His fingertips found her red locks again as he began to drag her mouth up and down the length of his cock again. She swallowed what she could, letting her tongue linger against the base of him as he pushed in far enough that his balls pressed against her lips. She gagged, failing to keep up as movements became rougher again.

Her jaw ached as she willed her mouth to relax again, listening to the way he groaned above her. Her knees were burning from being dragged against the hard floors as he quickly pressed her head down rougher against the back of her neck.

He gripped her hair harshly, forcing her head up and down his cock rapidly. She was gagging hard as pools of drool fell from her lips and trickled down her hard nipples. She knitted her eyebrows together tightly, her cheeks burning as he continued to use her mouth as he pleased.

“Fuck,” He cursed as he roughly pulled away, taking her by surprise as she continued to lean forward. Her lips remained parted as saliva pooled from her open mouth. She watched, begging it to all be over with as he gave his cock a few more strokes, “Turn around.” He demanded suddenly. She felt her lips curling into a frown as she thought of a way to protest.

He roughly gripped her shoulders, manhandling her as he forced her face onto the floor. She whimpered, kicking her feet as tears left the corner of her eyes. He laughed as he pushed down harshly on her spine again, before he moved to tear her panties in half.

She let out a broken sob as she fell fully exposed to her. One of her wings was brushing against her sore cheek as her arms ached from behind her back. He smacked her ass, the sound ringing in the room as he spread her legs wide.

“Oh fuck,” He breathed out as his fingertips danced between her wet folds, “And you act like you don’t want this.” He laughed, the sound making her stomach curl as his hard cock pressed up against her drenched cunt.

She bit down on her bottom lip harshly, stifling a moan as her walls stretched easily around his thick cock. He was large, filling her in one solid thrust as her cheek dragged along the floor. She squeaked out, her toes curling together as his tip pressed against her g-spot.

“What was that?” He teased her as he lazily pulled his hips back and slammed into her again. She knitted her eyebrows together tightly, begging her sounds to stay silent, “Do you like that?” His warm breath coated her neck as he whispered to her.

“No.” She begged, feeling her eyebrows knitting together as pleasure began to travel up her spine. She breathed out harshly, her eyelashes fluttering as he gripped her hips and pressed her up and down the length of his cock. She felt another broken moan fall from her lips.

“Think you do,” She could practically feel his grin as he leaned over her, pressing into her deeper as his balls pressed against her skin, “I think you’re a dirty little slut.” His tone became broken up as he snapped his hips forward, groaning as her cunt squeezed around his cock.

She clenched her fingertips into her palms, knitting her eyebrows together as she fought to keep quiet. It was hard to deny how good everything felt suddenly. His cock stretched her cunt in the perfect way, creating just the slightest burn as he bounced her hips back and forth on his cock. She licked the drool that was forming in her lips as his tip continually pressed against her bundle of nerves.

“Look at that,” He groaned, slowly pulling out as he admired the way her pussy engulfed his hard cock, “Like you were fucking made for me.” He breathed out as he thrusted his hips forward again.

“Ah,” A moan raspily left her throat as all of her concentration broke free. His balls were slapping against her skin as he continually pounded into her squelching cunt. She couldn’t keep her sounds at bay as his movements became more frantic, “Oh God.” She whined, her mind feeling fuzzy as his fingertips roughly dug into her soft skin.

He rocked her back and forth, inhaling deeply as his hands forced her body down harder along his cock. Her moans became louder, squealing as the pleasure traveled through her body. Her pussy was drenched, dripping along his cock and down her thighs.

“Little whore,” He spit out as he gripped the belt and tugged her body up towards him. She whimpered as she turned to face him, her eyebrows knitted together as her lips fell open in pleasure, “Such a good girl taking my cock.” He breathed out harshly as he tugged her closer to him. She whimpered, trying to hide her face away before his lips descended on hers.

She kept her lips still, trying to jerk herself away again before he roughly moved his lips against hers. His tongue traced around the curve of her mouth before he inhaled the taste of her tongue against his. She squirmed before she quickly stilled at the feeling of his hand gripping the base of her neck.

She shyly slid her tongue against his, keeping her eyes shut tightly as he began to grind his cock into her aching walls. She sighed against his mouth, the pleasure nearly unbearable as he hit her bundle of nerves repeatedly. Her hips began to tremble, shaking at the impending sense of her orgasm creeping up.

His hands roughly smacked against her thighs, making them red underneath his touch as he snapped his hips forward in bliss. She whined, looking down between them to see that her slick was coating her thighs. His cock pulsed inside of her walls, throbbing as her pussy squeezed tightly around him.

She felt a shrill whine creeping up on her tongue as he sank his fingers between her wet thighs. He pressed his fingertips against her throbbing clit. He rubbed at her sensitive bud harshly, making her wiggle and squeal against him as the pleasure came crashing down.

“Oh, oh,” She whined blissfully as she shook around him. Her walls clamped down around his cock, milking him as she came with a cry, “Oh my God.” He kept a tight grip on her to keep her in place, ensuring that she wouldn’t wiggle away. Her hands pressed against his back as he kept her in place, roughly dragging her cunt back onto his cock.

“Fuck,” He cursed as he squeezed her hips tightly and pressed her closer to him. His thrusts became more sporadic, snapping forward harshly as he continually rubbed at her clit, “Gonna fill this pretty pussy.” He promised as his lips ghosted over the curve of her neck.

“No,” She whined as she tried to wiggle herself away, “Don’t want it.” She whimpered in dismay as she squinted her eyes shut tightly. He laughed softly, ignoring her claims as his hips began to stall against her skin. He groaned loudly as he held onto her tightly. She cried out, whimpering as his warm spunk began to spill inside of her walls.

He panted above her, roughly as his chin rested against the crook of her neck. She sighed softly, trying to catch her own breath as he slid his hands behind her back and released the belt from around her wrists. She felt herself collapsing forward, giggling as he joined her a second later.

“Hm,” Kim curled up to him, her lips pressing into a smile, “I think it was a little risky to do this out here.” She giggled softly, watching the way a laugh bubbled out of his own lips. He leaned forward to press his lips against hers.

“Mhm,” He nodded in agreement, “You feel okay?” He looked over her features, trying to ensure that everything was okay. She grinned as she nodded, letting her fingers link with his.

“Perfect,” She grinned in response, although her body was a little sore, “We should go another round.” She giggled, watching the way his features curled up in disbelief.

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove x oc #billy hargrove stepcest #tw stepcest #tw pseudocest #billy hargrove x original character #cruel summer #stepcest #kinktober

53 notes · View notes