#spread eagling all by yourself handsome?

[ratatatastic]

our top d pair making the best defensive decisions which is apparently *squints* going spread eagle and becoming a human bowling ball and like somehow that worked

florida panthers @ new york rangers game 2 | 5.24.24

[strulovitches]

first move (?)

cbf!lance x f!reader

summary : basically you and lance are childhood best friends and one day when he was sitting spread eagle it makes you h*rny and some suggestive stuff ensues.

a/n : inspired by lance sitting spread eagle in that one video. you know which vid i’m talking about. this has been in my notes for so long and it really isn’t written very well but i just thought i should put this out there in case anyone would enjoy it lmao. so,,,, if you’re a lance enjoyer,,,, have fun!

you locked your phone, staring at your reflection as the screen turned dark. qualifying had just finished about half an hour ago and from where you were standing in lance’s motorhome you could still hear the distant cheers outside, undoubtedly celebrating a rare occasion where pole position was a car that wasn’t a red bull. lance had invited you to this race, just like all the other dozens of times you have attended a grand prix weekend. the relationship you have with lance is kind of cute, both of your fathers were long-time friends which meant that you knew lance ever since he was a little boy racing go-karts around montreal. growing up together, you were there when he first won his go-kart championship and he was there to comfort you when you first failed your maths test. a childhood best friends trope at its finest.

more than a decade has passed which has seen both you and lance grow to become a man and a woman. you thought about how lance was no longer a scrawny boy with a bowl haircut. he grew to be a handsome young man, his job requiring him to train religiously and as a result gain muscle. his skinny arms, ones which you used to compare with chicken legs grew thicker, his chest wider, and he soon towered over you. throughout these past few years, you always found yourself staring at his shirtless torso a bit too long during both of your family’s annual yacht trips together. you wanted to cup his face in your hands and at the same time his broad back made you wonder what it would feel like your dig your nails into it. you chastised yourself, how could you have thoughts like that about your childhood best friend? despite that, you weren’t oblivious to the glances lance would give you as well. lance too, noticed your physical changes.

his cheeky teases turned into flirtations and once innocent hugs lingered a bit longer as you both savoured being held by each other. so were both you and lance sort of pining for each other? well, yes. has anyone made a first move? nope. (but maybe that’s going to change now)

lance walked in plopping down on the couch with a huff. his legs were spread and arms on the couch rest throwing his head back

you felt like you were in a trance. your eyes trained on his neck watching his adam’s apple bob trying to catch his breath from his sprint. the sweat on his face was dripping on to the towel he had on his neck. he was always so sweaty after sessions in the car for some reason. your gaze trailed down his body seeing how his fireproofs perfectly hugged his biceps, chest and torso. the longer you stared at his thighs made thoughts made your mind wander about what was beneath his pants. slowly, you felt your face flush. the heat pooling in your stomach was starting to intensify the longer you spent gazing at him.

you broke your trance to find a pair of cheeky brown eyes already staring back. a stupid cocky smirk plastered on his stupid handsome face. obviously, you’ve been caught checking him out.

‘like what you see?’ and so, the teasing game begins

you give him a once over again, trying to sound nonchalant. ‘definitely’ you paused. ‘close your legs before i do something stupid’ you continued, fumbling with your phone to calm down your racing heart.

he let out a laugh. ‘i’m intrigued now. come on, nothing will be too stupid.’ you hear him persuade.

moments pass. were you really going to be the first one to make a move?

fuck it. you placed your phone on the table and walked towards him, never breaking eye contact. stopping in between his legs you gaze down at him. he still has that stupid smile on his face.

staring into his eyes, you slowly start to kneel. your hands place themselves on his knees as you feel the plush carpet underneath your knees. you could see his eyes turn dark and his smile falter. his relaxed posture becomes apprehensive, slowly sitting up at this turn of events. you smile as your hands slide up his legs and place your cheek on his thigh, lips dangerously close to somewhere he would rather them be. clearly, there’s no need to explain what something stupid is.

‘happy now stroll?’ you lilt, seeing his jaw clench at your precarious position.

‘no, show me what you’ve got’ he continues.

giving him your best doe eyes, you bring your lips to the canadian flag printed on the navel of his racing suit. hands still on his thighs, you start kissing each letter of his name printed. you could feel your chin brushing against his crotch every time you shift.

‘how about now?’ you tilt your head looking up at him.

he doesn’t look too happy when he cups your jaw with his hand. ‘teasing isn’t nice you know.’ he says, brushing your bottom lip with his thumb.

you catch his thumb between your teeth as you give it a lick. a teasing glint appears in your eyes, opening your mouth to release his thumb. ‘then don’t start’ you finish, pushing his legs wider as you use the momentum to stand up as you move to amble away.

what a fucking temptress. he curses in his mind. ‘1-0 stroll! it’s your turn to make a move!’ he hears you yell out. just you wait baby, just you wait.

[ncteez]

friends don’t fuck (l.s.m)

Your best friend of several years says that he can share a bed without being weird. Well, he’s a fucking liar. 

or the one where neither of you sees any harm in fucking just to see what it’s like. 

ao3 | minors dni! | kindly leave feedback and reblog, i will kiss your forehead so fucking fast if you do. 

WORDCOUNT― 3.7k

PAIRING― seokmin x afab reader

CONTENT― first time with big boy bestie, crackish, fluffish, mostly just smut 

NOTE― im just in love with him bro. i know that i’m typically more known for writing plot and/or really detailed smut scenes with a bigger word count but i’m having fun relaxing and writing these little fics in my free time (ㅅ´ ˘ `) , which means this is not proof read.

smut tags under cut:: 

smut tags― soft top seokmin, he gets a little lost in the sauce, BIG DICK BESTFRIEND, seokmin loves boobs, unprotected sex, cream pie, lil tiny bit of finger action 

~

           The couch is uncomfortable. That’s his excuse.

 “Well, you haven’t complained once in the years you’ve been crashing at my place.” You argue, sizing up your taller best friend who just so happens to already be tucked into your bed and spread-eagling it. 

 “I’m complaining now, though,” Seokmin yawns, stretching his arms and legs out even further as if to kick you onto the couch, “c’mon, I won’t be weird about it.”

          You size him up once again. Never did you make him sleep on the couch because you thought he would be weird about it, usually it was just because the bitch is a blanket thief.

 “Fine,” you relent, sliding yourself onto the bed and using your entire body to shove him over to make room for yourself, “the least you can do is make room for me.”

             He chuckles, deciding to stop being annoying and scooting over for you, and then casually rolling over so that his back is facing you, implying he’s actually going to sleep.

             So, there the two of you are. Not at all awkward, because you’ve been in worse situations with him that were a bit overwhelming (like that time he spilled his drink on you and mocked you for looking like you pissed yourself in the middle of a food court), this is nothing. It’s actually kind of weird that the two of you have never shared a bed considering the sheer amount of time you spend crashing in each other’s space. Guess it just never came up, guess neither of you cared too much about it. 

             It’s silent for a good thirty minutes save for the almost-muted Netflix show playing on the tv and your eyes are feeling ridiculously heavy. You can feel that heavy-sleep fuzz consume your body before you’re jolted out of it by none other than the fucking man himself.

 “Are you still awake?” your best friend whispers as he shifts on your bed, presumably turning to face you.

 “Trying not to be,” you mutter out in annoyance, staying on your back but turning your head to look at him with drooping eyes, “why, is the bed also too uncomfortable for your highness?” 

             He smiles and shakes his head, his eyes zoning in on your face and studying it.

 “I’ve been thinking about something.”

 “Well, can you stop so I can sleep?” You argue, not actually annoyed but just very tired. 

 “How do you feel about like–” he ignores you and pauses mid-sentence, which brings you to a place of curiosity. 

 “How do I feel about what, Seokmin?” You grouch, this time turning fully to face him.

             You take a minute to admire him, despite seeing him multiple times a week. He looks nice when he’s tired, and you’ve told him a thousand times how handsome he is. You really don’t think he gets it though, like, look at him. His sharp features always fall into softness when he’s just finished yawning, and his eyes always flutter differently when he’s sleepy. It’s not like you’re into him that way though, you just know how to appreciate an attractive person, regardless of if he’s your best friend and in your bed. 

 “I don’t know, me and Seungcheol were talking about how we lost our virginities and–” 

 “Why?” You snort, imagining that they probably were just rambling at each other for that topic to be brought up. 

 “That doesn’t matter,” he groans, waving you off and continuing his point, “anyway, he mentioned that he lost his to his best friend and I was like, woah,” he looks at you, watching for a reaction, “like, wouldn’t it be just so weird to have sex with a best friend?”

             You raise a brow at him and narrow your eyes.

 “I mean, to some I guess it’s weird, depends on the person?” 

 “Okay, but I’m asking you.” He prods, trying not to be obvious but ultimately failing. 

 “Nah, I think people can do those kinds of things if they both know how to navigate the situation,” you start, looking away from him because for the first time ever, you think he might be implying something. “I’ve never tried it though.”

             He deadpans at you before running a hand through his hair. 

 “So, you’re saying you could fuck a best friend?” 

 “Seokmin, you’re my best friend.”

             Then he’s silent.

 “I know.”

 ~

             You’re avoiding the fact that you’re shocked by his sudden sexual interest in you. This is the last thing you imagined you’d be doing on a regular Tuesday night sleepover with your best friend. Like, who even goes out of their way to ask for a major change in friendship dynamics on a fucking Tuesday!? 

             It’s kind of flooring, actually, enough to push you out of your sleepy daze and into a different sort of mood. The man who usually keeps you grounded is now somehow making you feel entirely off balance and dizzy at the very idea. You mentioned that friends can definitely fuck if they know how to navigate the situation. Now it’s like, do you know how to do that? Are you a person who can navigate this type of thing? Can you really just accept his offer simply out of curiosity? 

             Clearly, being friends with Seokmin has some downsides, and those downsides are usually fighting the yearly urge to pretend his face wasn’t the star of one of your rare wet dreams. That was completely unintentional! Another one of those downsides might be the occasional stray idea of what’s in his pants. That’s totally natural though! Your friendship with him is strictly platonic albeit occasionally full of sexual curiosity. 

 “What if we just pretend to not be best friends for ten minutes?” Seokmin offers through the past thirty minutes of silence in the room. 

 “Seokmin,” you start, feeling anxious because if he asks one more time you might just take him up on the offer, “if you keep talking we won’t be best friends for any minutes.” 

             You can hear that all-too-familiar chuckle from him, the one that’s deep and mischievous. 

 “You act like I didn’t see the way you looked at me today when I got out of the shower.”

 “And in what way did I look at you?” You feel a little called out simply because you didn’t even realize you were checking him out. 

 “Correct me if I’m wrong but–” Seokmin crowds up behind you considering you rolled away from him not too long ago, “you kind of seemed like you wanted to be under me.”

             Never has he ever spoken to you like this. Sure, there’s a sexual joke here or there. Maybe even a playful ass slap and a fake moan, but this? This felt a little too real, and a little too inviting. 

 “Wrong,” you argue as a last-ditch effort to save yourself from whatever it is that you’d definitely prefer to happen right now. 

 “Oh yeah? Is that why you keep rubbing your ass against me?”

             Goddammit. You were doing that, weren’t you? It’s his fault for crowding up behind you, all you were doing was– never mind that. The issue at hand here is you trying to pretend you’re not curious enough to absolutely fuck him. The even bigger issue is figuring out how this is gonna work, and if it’ll be worth it. 

             You pull your ass away for a moment, mostly to decide on what to do without feeling his–uh…thing against you. He shocks you though, by placing his hand around your waist and not really letting you. He knows you’re into it, there’s no way he doesn’t. Your best friend, the big bimbo man who also happens to go by another name of Seokmin, would never do something like this if he wasn’t already aware of how stubborn you are. Just this afternoon you eyeballed his snack and refused to admit that you wanted a bite until he basically force fed you. You’re stubborn, but he knows that you set boundaries seriously when he’s got the wrong idea. 

             God, you’re so in your head about this right now. Especially with him crowded up behind you, hands on your waist, his lips dangerously close to the shell of your ear. 

 “Okay,” you admit, defeated as you intentionally press yourself against him this time. “ten minutes,”

 “Yeah?” He sighs out, and yeah, you were right– he’s like right there. 

 “If you make this weird, I’m never talking to you again.” You attempt to argue, but there's a feeling in your gut that overpowers any type of anxiety right now. Maybe it’s because his hands don’t stray from your waist, and they stay gentle, or maybe it’s because his lips are immediately against your neck and he’s pressing his length against you. 

             Oh so you’re really doing this now? This is how he starts off when he wants to fuck someone? Your best friend likes to kiss and lick and suck against the neck of his interest while also letting them feel his size? Damn, okay. You’re trying to hold it together, honestly. The nearly muted netflix show that’s playing sounds as if it has no sound at all by this point because you’re entirely focused on the fact that this is the reality and you’re about to fuck your best friend for shits and giggles. You’re seeing him in a brand new light, and goddamn does it look beautiful on him. 

 “You know…” Seokmin whispers against the back of your neck as he plants a kiss there, his fingers running from your waist to your stomach and fiddling with the hem of your shirt. “I’ve never seen you without clothes on before,”

             He’s right. 

 “We agreed on ten minutes,” you say, still being a bit stubborn but also encouraging him to take your shirt off– or his pants, or anything else for that matter, “you’re taking your sweet time.”

             You can feel his lips against you turning into a smile and just as you go to try and make another snide comment, you’re grabbed by him and rolled over onto your back. He’s so quick with it, and seeing him now after already feeling his body against yours, he doesn’t look like your best friend. He looks like someone you desperately want to make feel good.

 “Up.” He instructs, lifting your shirt until it’s caught under your arms. You do as he asked, of course, and then lay back down feeling kind of shy about the fact that he’s blatantly staring at your chest and–oh.

 “God,” he groans, dipping down and nuzzling his face against them, “I knew they’d be pretty.”

             There’s that heat spreading across your cheeks. You’re blushing and feeling goosebumps run all across your skin and it’s making you feel kind of small but also kind of adored.

 “Ten minutes,” you remind him with a coo, cupping your hand on the back of his head as he continues to nuzzle and kiss against your tits, “get our pants off before you lose sight of the goal–”

             He pulls up, looking at you with a raised brow and a slack jaw. Then he narrows his eyes.

 “You’re really only gonna let me go for ten minutes?”

             Of course not. 

 “Ten minutes, firm. Unless you change my mind.”

             Ah, he does love a challenge, that’s true. Only this time you see this challenge as something more than a drinking contest or who can get the most kills in a video game. You swear he’s moving faster than he ever has before, navigating his big body and pulling himself back. He doesn’t even ask before he slips your pajama pants off of you, followed by his own. 

             You look down at him, now wanting your own curiosity to be satiated, but he’s still moving fast and leans down to your face, blocking your view.

 “Now, hold on–” you argue, shoving his face away and lifting your head a bit to see between his legs, “you can’t just whip it out and not let me see it.”

             He chuckles, because that’s fair. He pulls himself back, sitting on his knees between your legs and proudly presents his length to you. You stare, and then he stares. Both of you, stuck in a loop of taking in the other’s body and what there is to offer in terms of pleasure once you both have your fill of visuals. 

             His eyes go from your tits to your belly and then stop directly between your legs, and it’s like he wants to pray to the heavens for you wanting to do this because damn you look good. He wonders if you’re wet, or if you’re as excited as he is to be doing this with you.

             Then there’s you, eyes scanning his length and internally trying to measure the circumference of his thickness. He had a huge cock this whole time and didn’t even offer to let you see it before now? What an awful best friend, he should be ashamed for withholding such information about himself from you.

 “Hey, um–” you swallow around nothing, probably because your throat is trying to prepare itself for him. “not to be weird or anything but like, when did you get so fucking hot?”

             He smiles, giving you a breathy laugh before finally tearing his eyes away from your folds.

 “Why? Am I turning you on?” 

             You roll your eyes at that, leaning forward and grabbing his hand. He falls forward a bit with an excited breath and then immediately sighs out when he realizes that you place his fingers directly on your clit. 

             What you were gonna say was that he can see for himself if you’re turned on, instead, the second he felt it against his fingers, he slid them down and started exploring with a gentle groan. 

 “Good,” he compliments you, continuing to run his fingers through your folds, “can I kiss you too, or is that off limits?”

             You look at him like he’s an idiot, but he knows what that means.

             It’s silent when he does it. His lips laid against yours and feeling so plush and warm that all you can do is lick them until he lets you in. He does, and it’s really fucked up that he also hid the fact that he definitely knows how to kiss a woman from you too. From feeling his fingers teasing your entrance to feeling his tongue teasing your own– you feel elated that you’re getting this from him.

             The kiss lasts much longer than his fingers do between your legs. You felt the absence of them for a split second before feeling him slide his length against you and essentially coat his cock in your arousal. He’s thick, long, and incredibly hard against you. 

             You let out a strangled sort of groan feeling it, and you shocked yourself at the sound. Never have you been so excited to feel someone rubbing their length between your lips. He kisses you harder when you make the sound, and you can feel his hips press into you with more pressure. For a second, you thought about it. You thought about doing this for hours, days, weeks with him. Unfortunately though, you both have shit to do and it upsets you a bit too much right now. 

             You whine against his lips, bringing your hand up and pushing his messy hair out of his face to prevent it from tickling your own. That same hand drags through his hair, down his back, and then between the two of you. 

             His body jolts when you grab him, and he pulls back from the kiss with a dazed smile and looks down at your hand around him.

 “Do you want it now?” He asks, shaking his head at the situation, feeling like he’s on top of the world. Technically, he kind of is, because you’re kind of his whole world right now. 

             You smile back mischievously, lifting your hips a bit and guiding his length down. You’re incredibly prepared to feel him, to see him, and to know what it’s like for other’s when your best friend fucks them. Why shouldn’t you know, anyway?

             He nods to you, leaning his head down to your chest and attaching his lips around one of your nipples as he attempts and fails to find the hole the first time. You help him with a laugh though, guiding him a bit more until both of you release a sigh at the feeling of his head stretching you open.

             He now loses the ability to suckle on your nipple and instead drops his head to the side and treats your tits like a personal pillow as he focuses solely on the slide inside of you. He wants you to feel every inch of him, and jesus christ does he want to make sure he feels every inch of you.

             Taking his sweet time, he shallowly thrusts into you slowly until the last thrust, where he plants himself between your legs and wiggles his hips against you just to get a snug fit inside of you. You think he might be deeper than anyone has ever gone before, and instantly you’re gripping him into a hug as he waits patiently for you to adjust. 

             He’s silent for a bit, squeezing his eyes shut and reaching a hand down to guide your legs around his waist, and he only releases his own moan when he stops holding his breath. You do as he encourages, wrapping your legs around him and waiting for him to show you what he’s made of. 

 “You can move–” you say in a small voice, releasing him from your hug and brushing his hair out of his face once more as he raises his cheek from your chest. 

             He listens well, pulling his hips back and slowly sliding into you again. You can see his face right now and it’s different from anything you’ve ever seen before. He’s being passionate and it’s fucking insane to see him like this. 

 “You’re really hot, did you know that?” You compliment him, clenching around him and watching his breath hitch at it. 

             What you’re not aware of though, is how in his head he is about you right now. You’re so fucking wet for him and it’s driving him up a fucking wall. The drag of his cock against your walls is sending intense shocks throughout his entire body, and honestly, hearing your voice on top of it all compliment him makes him want to hate himself for never bringing this up to you before. 

             He doesn’t respond, and his pupils continue to grow as he looks at you with each thrust. He’s lost in the thought of getting to be inside of you specifically.

             And when he finds a rhythm, one that’s equally as hard as it is deep, you can’t even muster words for him. You’re breathless, moaning as his stupid necklace dangles against your face when he moves his hands to either side of your head to support himself. 

             You can’t really look away from him though. He’s never been this quiet before and he’s never looked this insanely hot before– you decide to stop thinking so hard, throwing your arms up and around his neck to pull him down into a kiss. His thrusts become slower at that point but still insanely deep. 

 “You’re going to make me come if you–” you whisper against his lips but get cut off, sighing with a slight moan as he presses harder into you.

             You don’t even think he’s listening, because now he’s talking. His voice is insanely deep and raspy when he does it.

 “You’re going to come on me?” He says, completely lost in his lust, probably attempting to say whatever is on his mind, “gonna come all over me?”

             Well, when he puts it that way. Hell yeah.

             You shoot your hand between the two of you and it’s like, three rubs of your clit and you’re already shaking. 

 “That’s it babe, squeeze me,” he chokes out, feeling your other hand scratch against his back and against his neck. 

             He watches your face as you release around him, studying the way you close your eyes and moan out for him. He thinks it might be the hottest thing you’ve ever done, come on his cock, you know? 

 “Jesus,” he chokes out this time, feeling you still squeezing around him as your legs start to shake, “okay, fuck, hold on–” he adds, now putting more power into his thrusts and chasing a high that’s close enough already.

             Good thing your best friend knows you’re on birth control, considering he’s the one who has to remind you to take it half of the time. 

             When he reaches his own orgasm, you’re just coming out of yours. You can feel his relentless hips stutter as he reaches it, and you watch the way he holds his breath through it. He’s literally not breathing when it happens and all you can do is, similar to him, fucking watch.

             You can feel his load pumping into you, and when he finally releases his breath, his groan is breathy and guttural before he practically flops down onto you and tries to regain his breath.

 ~

 “Ugh,” he groans out, refusing to remove his limp limbs from caging you in, “why was that so hot?”

             You’re taken aback by that for some reason.

 “The fuck is that supposed to mean?” You grouch, shoving him off of you and wincing at the way he slides out of you at the same time. 

 “I mean, like, how am I supposed to not want to do this again?” He laughs through his own wince, knowing full well that his cum is probably seeping out of you in heaps. 

 “Who says you’re not supposed to?” You look away from him, unprepared for conversation immediately after orgasm, but also slightly relieved that he’s back to his talkative self. 

 “Oh?” He smiles, pulling himself up from your bed and wiggling his brows at you, “So, now we are best friends that fuck?”

             You shrug, looking up and down his body.

 “Yeah, if you don’t make it weird.”

 ~

[valentinoappreciator]

Vox / Female reader / Valentino electro smut 💞

Media: Hazbin Hotel

Pairing: Vox x female reader x Valentino

Rating: E for explicit

Word count: 3.8k

Tags (among others): erotic electrostimulation, gags, chains, dirty talk, threesome (F/M/M), spitroasting, actually proofread (by me, but still!!!), aphrodisiacs

Where else to read: AO3. Username: TheWeirdDane, title: Gagged and Chained

Author's notes: everything is consensual <3 although, one could maybe doubt HOW the consent was obtained 🤭 anyway, here goes!

---------------------

Not for the first time tonight, you wonder how Vox and Valentino have gotten you into this setup. Damn their silver tongues and promises of a good time! 

Tied to Valentino’s bed, spread-eagle style, with heavy iron chains, you’re gagged. You’re not blindfolded, as Vox had initially suggested. More entertaining, more fun for us if she can’t see what’s happening, Val! he had said, but Valentino had insisted that they be able to see the fear and misery in your eyes.

So, here you are. Tied up and gagged, you make a series of pathetic, muffled sounds as Vox straddles your naked body. He’s grinning widely, his pale blue teeth looking not unlike a shark’s and his red eyes wide with delight as you squirm slightly. 

“Really, darling?” Valentino chides from his couch. He sits with his legs and wings spread obscenely wide, displaying all of him, and holds a cigarette to his lips with one hand. Casually, so casually, he takes a deep drag of it, exhaling red smoke out into the already foggy room. 

Maybe that’s why you’re not struggling. Not as much as you should be, anyway.

“Fighting your boss? That’s not a very good look on you.”

You whine pitifully. A shiver wrecks through you as Vox strokes his sharp, claw-like fingers down your plump flanks and over your sizable breasts. A sharp inhale through the gag, and you lean your head back against the pillow.

It is, despite everything, ungodly soft and comfortable. 

Your eyes flutter closed, and Vox clicks his tongue at you. 

“Look at me, babe,” he demands, immediately getting what he wants. Your eyes are wide open all of a sudden. 

You realize you don’t really know what is supposed to happen tonight, and you find yourself both apprehensive and shivering with anticipation. 

“You can start, Voxxy,” Valentino purrs, “but remember, keep it... soft. For a start, anyways.”

You frown up at Vox. He rolls his eyes - undoubtedly by the pet name - and nonetheless reaches behind himself. Stretching his narrow, lithe body, you can’t help but think that he actually... looks kind of handsome like this. He quirks an eyebrow, and you blush. Have you blown your cover already?

“She’s blushing, Val.” His voice is mocking. You hate how much it... actually kind of turns you on.

“Good. That means someone finds you at least a little bit attractive.” 

Vox rolls his eyes again. He strokes your inner thigh with the hand not supporting himself. You gasp sharply, and the muscles in your leg flex. 

“Don’t let it go to your head, Voxxy.”

“Oh, unlike you, you mean?”

Valentino barks out a laugh, follows it up with, “Aren’t you being cocky tonight!”

There’s a moment of silence in the room, before Valentino purrs.

“Well? Are you just gonna admire my pretty toy, or are you gonna do what we talked about?”

Vox grits his teeth, and to you, it almost seems like he’s... regretting this? It’s something about the way his eye twitches, and the way his lips are set in a tight smile. Yet, he keeps teasing your thigh, and you hate to admit that it does do things to you. 

His claws are sharp. They leave goosebumps in their wake as they scrape over your blushing flesh. For a second, the shortest of moments, you can almost feel the electricity crackling between them, sending a faint jolt through you.

But surely, that’s all just in your imagination... right? 

However, there’s something in his smirk that says I know.

And your eyes widen. 

Oh no. Oh no, he’s going to electrocute you, isn't he?

You start squirming again. You want to say it’s entirely out of fear, but a part of you hungers for it. 

Vox grins widely. 

“Oh, I think she’s catching on, Val.”

“Such a clever one,” Valentino purrs, exhaling a plume of scarlet and grinning as well. It’s so wide it seems to split his face in two. Your attention is divided between him and Vox, but when Vox’s claws move ever closer to your core, you watch him, and only him, with rapt attention. 

“Good girl,” he drawls, putting his palm flat against your inner thigh, tapping his claws against your flesh one by one. It is ungodly hot, and you whimper through your gag. Your heart is beating a million miles an hour, and you feel almost queasy with adrenaline. 

“There’s a reason you’re Val’s favorite,” he continues, his voice a sultry drawl, and suddenly sinks his claws into your flesh. Your yelp is muffled by the gag, but you can still squirm, and so, you do. You try to buck him off, but he’s clearly tried this before, and keeps straddling you until you’re sagging back against the mattress.

“You’re always so clever and fast to figure out what’s going to happen to you,” he cooes, slowly picking his claws out of your thigh, one by one. “You look practically sinful with your makeup all ruined and messy.” A weak whimper escapes you. You press your head back into the pillow once more, squeezing your eyes tightly shut as a wave of pleasure surges through you. 

Valentino is momentarily forgotten. There’s only Vox and you, you and Vox, and you crack open an eye to peer up at him. With the light behind him, it’s almost forming a halo above his screen. It catches and reflects off the black edges. He looks... he actually does look very handsome like this. Still in his suit - how uncomfortable that must be! - he doesn't seem bothered in the slightest. 

You find yourself relaxing into the mattress. Stupidly, you think, maybe he won’t actually hurt me.

But you know better. He’s cruel, just in other ways than Valentino. Where Valentino likes to be very... physical with his abuse, Vox’s specialty is playing with your mind. He makes you think things that aren’t necessarily true. He puts thoughts and ideas in your head that you won’t be able to shake. He’ll drive you insane, slowly but surely. 

“Now now, Voxxy,” Valentino snickers, “you can’t let it go to her head, either. Continue. I know how much you want this.”

“Acting like you don’t like it yourself,” Vox retorts, but squares his shoulders in a way that tells you the real deal is about to begin. 

You swallow hard, looking up at Vox with something not unlike fear sloshing through your veins. But even as you’re apprehensive, you’re also... turned on, and when Vox grins down at you, you can’t tell if the heat in your face is from terror or delight. 

“Oh, you know what you’re in for, and you’re still excited?”

You shake your head fervently. 

“Oh, but I think you are,” Vox teases, and slides a claw through your folds, making you shout behind the gag. The touch is so unexpected, and it’s so good!

He does it again, and again, touching your cunt slowly, almost gently. After a few strokes, he retracts his hand up to his mouth. Watching him with rapt attention, you nearly moan when his long, slimy tongue lolls out between his teeth. It slithers between his fingers, and then he has the audacity to suck on the digits, making an incredibly lewd sound as he does so. 

This does make you moan, and a shudder goes through you. Valentino laughs mockingly, but somehow, it feels very far away. It’s almost as if you can only focus on Vox. Your eyes are wide, your focus only on him as he continues to clean his fingers of your slick. 

“Imagine that tongue elsewhere, huh, baby?” Valentino purrs, and you’re reminded of his tongue as well, and then you can’t stop thinking about both their tongues laving over you, slathering their saliva all over your writhing body. The thought gets another moan out of you.

“Oh baby,” Valentino mocks, “you’re so easy. No wonder you’re my favorite! Anything gets you going, huh?”

Vox lets go of his fingers with a lewd, wet sound, grinning down at you. Then, as he holds up his saliva-coated, dripping fingers, small arches of electricity begin jumping between them. Immediately, cold fear washes over you, and you whine in the back of your throat as you squirm and writhe again. 

You shake your head violently when Vox moves his hand behind himself again and down between your legs. 

“Mmmhhhh!” you whine, then jolt when his charged claws make contact with your slick folds. The pain is sharp and immediate. It makes your hips snap upwards without your mental input. Behind the gag, you howl, and you hate to admit that it’s a sound born out of pain and arousal. 

“Oh, that’s a good sound,” Vox teases, and begins stroking your folds while still electro-stimulating you. You writhe desperately, not sure if you’re trying to get away from it, or press yourself against the crackling electricity. And frankly, you don’t care to know it, either. 

“I’m starting to see what you mean, Val,” he continues in a low hum, teasing your labia. “She does make the prettiest noises.”

“Told ya, didn’t I?” 

Vox grins again. 

The teasing and stroking continue until you’ve gotten used to it. It’s now a constant, warm buzzing, and it’s making you breathe hard and fast. You dare to close your eyes slightly, and are surprised to feel tears slide down your cheeks. 

“She used to it yet?” Valentino purrs. Immediately, your eyes snap open again, looking first to Valentino, and then back at Vox. 

Vox hums affirmatively, and Valentino’s next words strike cold fear straight through your heart.

“Good. Then how about you increase the voltage, hmm?”

“You got it,” Vox grins, and he clearly gets off on the entire situation; his cock is rock hard and pressing against the front of his pants. Once more, you shake your head fervently, trying to kick and flail. The only things you get out of it are the chains rattling loudly and sore limbs. 

A second later, he does ramp up the voltage, and you howl in pain. Yet, somehow, it’s not all pain. Under the sharp, warm, stinging electricity, there are the smoldering embers of pleasure in your chest. 

Panting and heaving for air, you close your eyes. Vox laughs mockingly, but you keep your eyes firmly shut. You don’t need to look at him. 

Valentino hisses, and you’ve heard his vast catalog of sounds enough that you know this is one of pleasure. He’s enjoying seeing you in pain. The thought should revolt you, it should make you hate him.

Yet, somehow, for some reason, you can’t help but be incredibly turned on. 

You whimper again, pointing your toes and trying to kick your legs again. 

“Aww, baby,” Valentino rasps, “that’s futile. I did those chains myself. And you know I won’t let a good whore like you escape.”

You look at him, and shouldn’t be surprised to see that he’s taken out his cock to touch himself. Yet, somehow, you are. You have no idea how long Vox has been torturing you, but it doesn’t feel like that long. 

The sight of him pleasuring himself is oddly hypnotic. The way he pumps himself with one hand, holding his cigarette with another, and his last two resting casually on the back of the couch. He looks every bit like the pimp he is, and it’s infuriatingly hot. 

His cock is massive between his long, slim fingers, and you hate that it makes you salivate around the gag. Spit trickles out between your lips and the silicone, dripping down your cheeks where it mixes with your tears.

Vox snickers, drawing your attention back to him.

“I think she wants your cock, Val. She’s drooling all over the pillow.”

You blush fiercely, knowing it isn’t true, but unable to protest. 

The rustling of fabric reaches your ears. Valentino is getting up from the couch and marching towards you and Vox, his hips swaying sensually from side to side. You can’t help but watch, mesmerized. 

“Well, if she’s so desperate,” Val cooes, grinning down at you once he stands by the edge of the bed, “then why don’t we give our little doll what she truly wants?”

They laugh in unison, and when they work together to untie you, you can’t even think to fight back. The loss of the current from Vox’s claws make an unpleasant, longing ache settle in your stomach.

You decide, in the quiet of your mind, that you’re not going to examine that. 

You’re being manhandled so that your head hangs over the edge of the bed, between Valentino’s legs. 

“Lift your head, darling, just like that, yes,” Valentino grunts. He strokes his own, golden claws through your hair in a way that’s deceptively soft and gentle. Vox is between your legs still. He hasn’t taken out his cock. 

When Valentino finds the buckle on the back of your head, he pulls it open and removes the gag. You smack your lips, moaning softly. Your jaws ache, but you’re not about to say that. 

“What do you say now, doll?” 

“Thank you, daddy,” you croak, reaching a trembling hand up to stroke his cock. Valentino purrs.

“Good girl. Always so well-behaved! One would think you’re nothing but an obedient pet.”

A shudder goes through you, pulling a mewl from your mouth. 

Valentino wastes no further time before he yanks your head back by your hair, and uses your subsequent yelp to push his cock into your mouth. Vox laughs at your gurgling moan, and spreads your legs wide. From this position, you can’t see him - a twinge of disappointment goes through you - but you can hear him undo his pants. The clinking of a belt being pulled open, the sound of a zipper being pulled down. 

Your mouth does water, and Valentino sighs in pleasure as the added fluid makes it better for him. 

“If I didn’t know better, sugar, I’d think you were getting off on this,” he snickers, and seconds later, there are warm, firm hands fondling your breasts. You moan - the sound once more muffled - and close your eyes. He pushes his cock deep in your mouth and into your throat where it triggers your quite persistent gag reflex. Your throat contracts around him, and he groans loudly, gritting his teeth, but again, this is a sound of pleasure, nothing bad. 

“Oh fuck, yeah, that’s it, baby, your throat is always so fucking tight,” he hisses. His hands squeeze your breasts tightly, claws teasing and flicking your nipples. You whimper. 

“Go on, Voxxy,” he says to Vox, “I’m sure she’s more than ready for you.”

Vox hisses as well, the sound sounding mechanic, and then he’s teasing his cock against your folds. You jolt, letting out a guttural moan, and squeeze the back of Valentino’s thighs tightly. He laughs. 

“Oh yeah, she wants you,” he rasps and pinches your nipples harshly. You howl, digging your perfectly manicured nails into his purple skin. “Just fuck her, Vox, it’s on me.”

Vox groans in pleasure, and then his cock catches on your hole. You shudder, clenching in anticipation. His claws run down your sides, leaving goosebumps in their wake, before they grab onto your hips - and with one, simple, smooth thrust, he’s buried himself balls-deep inside you. 

Your eyes open wide, but you can’t make a single sound; Valentino’s cock is lodged deep in your throat. Your cunt clenches tightly around Vox, and he groans in the back of his throat. 

“Oh shit, she’s so fucking tight,” he grunts, and doesn’t hesitate to fuck you in earnest. He’s eager, and his thrusts jerk you slightly over the bed. 

“I know,” Valentino purrs, “always so fucking tight, despite the amount of cocks she takes on the daily. Isn’t that right, baby?” 

You whimper, and although the sound is muffled, it’s still loud enough to make both Vox and Valentino laugh. 

“So desperate,” Valentino teases, while Vox goes for a simple, “Whore,” which, regrettably, makes you even wetter. 

As you’re filled from both ends, your brain is steadily overpowered by the scent of the two Overlords using your body. It’s so heady and strong, permeating the air and penetrating your nostrils until it’s all you can smell and think about. Valentino takes a deep drag of his cigarette, and, blowing the smoke in your face, makes your already fuzzy brain even more muddled. 

“You’re doing so well for us,” he murmurs, thrusting ruthlessly into your mouth and throat. Each thrust triggers your gag reflex and makes your stomach jump, but you’ve long since learned to control it so you don’t vomit all over your boss when he makes you deepthroat him. 

Vox’s cock isn’t as big as Valentino’s, but it’s so much more textured. The veins criss-cross along his entire shaft, almost like wires in a piece of machinery, and they throb and pulse in such a delicious way. The head of his cock repeatedly forces you open. You tilt your hips a bit up and to the side, aiming for the spot inside you. 

And fuck, it doesn’t take him long at all to slam against it. 

The sudden impact makes pleasure explode in your chest. You cry out just when Valentino pulls back, and for a second, Valentino seems almost taken aback. 

“Well, Voxxy,” he then snickers, “seems you found the good spot.”

“Indeed,” he purrs, and the fucking bastard keeps ramming against it! You whimper loudly, sticking out your tongue to swirl it around the head of Valentino’s cock. Valentino grins, looking down at you. 

“Aww, look at you, baby! So desperate for my cock...”

“Please, daddy,” you whimper, your brain wonderfully empty at this point. You just know that you need Valentino’s cock, or you’ll surely die a horrible, second death! 

“The begging suits you,” he grins, keeping his cock just out of reach of your tongue, no matter how much you stretch it or crane your neck. “Keep it up.”

You whine repeatedly, the sounds broken up by Vox fucking into you and hammering against the spot, relentless and clearly eager to see what’ll happen if he abuses it enough. 

“Daddy, please, I need it!” Your voice is so shrill you barely recognize it. 

“What do you need, exactly, babydoll?”

A shudder goes through you, and you clench around Vox, who groans and leans in over you, almost folding you in half. You howl in pleasure. His hands move to grab your thighs, his claws digging into the flesh. 

“Your cock!” you all but cry, “I need your cock, daddy, please, please please please!” 

Valentino laughs mockingly, stroking your hair. 

“Aww, baby, I know you do,” he cooes. “But I feel like you can do better than that. In fact, I know you can do better. Show me why I pay you the big bucks.”

“But daddy,” you whimper, gasping with each of Vox’s merciless thrusts, “it’s so hard to focus! Please!”

“Aww, it’s hard to focus?” He strokes your cheek, making you shiver. “Just because you have a cock in your pretty, little cunt? Are you getting cock-drunk already, sweetheart? Is that it?”

Already? How long have they been fucking her, and fucking with her? She should receive an award for hanging on this long!

“Daddy, don’t be mean, please!” 

“Oh for crying out loud,” Vox snarls, clearly breathless and winded, “just shut her up!”

“Her crying getting you off, hmm, Vox, baby?” Valentino snickers, teasing the head of his cock over your lips and making you whimper pathetically. 

Vox doesn’t comment on that, but his cock throbs wonderfully hard, and you know he’s close. He’s drooling onto your chest, and the electricity is back in his claws. The arches jump between his fingers and your thighs, making you gasp. 

“Sir, it--- it hurts!”

“Too fucking bad,” Vox growls, increasing the voltage and moving one hand between your legs to fondle your clit directly. The current of crackling electricity reaches your ears before you feel the zap against your clit, but when you do, you cry out and jolt sharply. Valentino even has to hold you down against the bed with two hands. 

However, most curiously, the sudden pain and his repeated thrusts mean that warmth surges through you. Gathering in an aggressive, swirling maelstrom in your lower belly, the pleasure increases rapidly with each zap to your clit, until it’s simply too much. 

“I’m gonna come! Please, please please please!” you whimper, your cunt already starting to contract rhythmically, when Valentino slams his cock back in your mouth, immediately fucking your throat raw and sore again. 

“Come for us,” Vox and Val snarl in unison.

It’s a perfect, wonderful combination - Vox’s ruthless thrusts against your sensitive spot and his continuous electrocuting your clit, as well as Valentino fucking your throat - and that is what do you in. 

The warmth and tension are released as you gush on Vox’s cock, squeezing your eyes tightly shut and trying desperately to suck off Valentino at the same time. However, you’re slightly preoccupied by the insane pleasure that courses through you as your orgasm overpowers you, and Valentino has to slap your cheek to make you focus.

“Focus, whore,” he snarls, but even he sounds out of breath as he continues to push into your throat over and over again, until he, too, is sent over the proverbial edge. He hisses loudly, and his wings flare open as he shoots his load down your throat and straight into your stomach. It’s so wonderfully warm and sticky! Your cunt clenches, and Vox is next to face his demise. 

He coats your insides with his cum, his snarl a static buzzing, and the currents jumping between his claws intensify until you genuinely fear for your clit’s well-being. 

For a long, long second, it seems nothing happens. Vox is pressed firmly against your ass, and Valentino against your face; both cocks throbbing hard as they deposit their seed inside you. 

When they finally withdraw, you gasp, and subsequently almost choke on Valentino’s cum. Having cleared your throat so you can breathe normally, you look blearily at Valentino, then at Vox. 

Vox looks a mess; his suit is slightly crumpled, and his antennas look almost fried. He’s stroking your thighs absently, every now and again sending a slight current through you, but it’s clearly not on purpose anymore. The light in his screen has faded, as if he’s only running on half the power he usually is. 

Valentino already looks like nothing has happened, the only sign of anything having happened being his cock hanging out of his pants. However, he is still rock hard. 

“You’ve made some pretty extreme pornos, babydoll,” he purrs, caressing your cheek, “and you seemed to enjoy this a great deal.”

You shiver with a weak mewl. 

“I can’t wait to find the thing that will finally break you.”

[cuddlykillers]

Screamtober 2021 - Day 26 : Ouija

Female!Reader x Incubus Demon NSFW Smut TW: Breeding Kink, Masterbation, Asphyxiation Kink, Degradation.

You were alone in the house, again. No one else ever seemed to be home anymore, all of your roommates working multiple jobs now. Meanwhile you had the weekend off. With a drink in hand and candles around the room, you had every plan on how you were going to spend it.

You pulled your halloween blanket over your bed, it was a cute ouija board design you had grabbed from Spirit Halloween only a day before. You closed your door, locking it even though you were alone. Tonight was going to be your night, a single lady and her favorite vibrator. You put on some of your favorite music to get you in the mood as you pulled off your oversized tshirt and settled onto your bed naked. Your fingers moved between your legs as you spread them, your eyes closing as you massaged yourself happily. A soft heated breath moving from you as your body enjoyed itself, it had been too long since you had treated yourself to a good fuck. Longer still since a partner joined you.

You spread your pussy lips, fiddling with your clit as you teased yourself until you dripped. Proud of how hot and horny you were already. You carressed your breast with your other hand, flicking your nipple with your thumb as another hand joined you sliding between your pussy lips and prodding your entrance. It felt so good until you realized, it wasn't your hand.

You opened your eyes to find a ram horned demon with red skin and the tail and ears of a bull. His face and body human enough and handsome but his eyes completely black with red glowing pupils looking over your naked form. Your jaw dropped as you tried to let out some form of exclamation but his clawed hand covered your mouth.

"Quiet, daughter of Eve. You will scream, but for my seed, not for my anger." He spoke through a gargled hissing voice.

You looked to him and broke free from his hold on your face, "You're an incubus, aren't you?"

"Yes, you are smart for a whore." He nodded, drool dripping from his tongue between his tusk like fangs. "But still stupid enough to fuck yourself ontop of a ouija board, summoning me to you. Now you'll have to pay your dues with your cunt."

"You're really gonna fuck me?" You asked casually, taking him off guard though he tried not to show it.

"I'm going to breed you, slut. Breed you again and again. Your womb will birth my demonic offspring, I will have my way with you and you will pleasure me, your master!" He roared overtop of you.

You spread your legs more for him, welcoming him inside your hot wet pussy, "Sounds like a fun time, master." You smirked to him.

He looked at you in surprise before a dark perverse smile overtook his features, "Good whore, you know your place well."

You reached up and took his face in your hands, pussy juice still on your fingers, "Fuck me hard, master." you purred before kissing him.

He jerked his big red dick as he pushed into your kiss, enjoying your empassioned embrace. He pushed you down on your back, taking your wrists in his clawed hands and pinning you spread eagle on your bed.

"I will fuck your cunt and pretty little ass until you can no longer walk. Then I will fuck your mouth until you can no longer speak. Then I will fuck your tits until they bleed." He growled.

"And then, master?" You whimpered under him, eager for his dick to fill you.

"Then I shall start again, going until your belly is swollen with child." He answered, the tip of his cock throbbing against your entrance, "Now give your fuck hole to me!" He demanded.

You raised yourself from the bed and took his dick into you, pushing yourself onto him. His dick was hard and sharp like a spike impaling you. You let out a moan under him as he lowered himself deeper into you, pushing back against your groin.

"Yes, that's right. Give in to me and embrace your pleasure, you fucking whore!" He hissed, slowly thrusting in and out of you. You struggled against him, his sex wonderful and overpowering as you couldn't move.

You whined, "Harder..."

"You want master to fuck you harder?" He asked.

You nodded through hooded eyes.

"Fucking say it!" He shouted.

"Please, fuck me! Fuck me harder! Harder!" You whimpered out as his dick stroked deeper inside of you.

He chuckled, holding you down as his pace sped up some. He fucked you fast and hard, angling himself to hit your gspot in between each lunge deeper.

"Cum for me, squirt your sinful pussy spit onto your master!" He demanded, his taloned fingers moving from your wrist to your neck, squeezing your throat until you gagged.

Your tongue slid out of your mouth as you looked up at him, his face full of horny rage. He rode you as you climaxed, your legs bending slightly as you moaned deeply. Cum squirted from your cunt onto him as he shoved himself in and out endlessly, pumping you full of his cock.

"Good little cum slut, squirt on your master while he desecrates your pretty little fuck hole." He smiled through his tusks, humping into you with a vengeance as you moaned.

[honey-milk-depresso]

Wait for me (Diluc x Reader)

Hi!!! I hope you enjoy my little angst! Thank you so much for reading!

“Look!”

A young man with red hair turned around to face you, his cold, ruby eyes immediately softening at the sight of you.

“These are qingxin flowers are Liyue’s local specialties! They only grow in the highest stone peaks, and they’re simple yet beautiful flowers!”

You’re admiration for flowers has always seemed to be endearing for Diluc. He loves the way your eyes held a certain twinkle that shines brighter than the sunlight or the moon’s glowing. Stars had always been twinkling on lonely nights after work, watching and smiling as the young, seemingly cynical businessman smiled warmly as you observed and named the flowers.

He loved you.

He loved you oh so much.

For being someone who loved him for being who he is, 

and accepting him for who he is.

You didn’t care how wealthy he was.

You didn’t care for how famous he was.

You didn’t care for how powerful he was.

You didn’t care for how handsome he was.

Okay, maybe a little.

But you cared deeply about how he felt and you were patient with him, something that he didn’t think people would give him.

And he was very grateful for you ever coming into his life.

But, the past is the past.

=============================================================

“Diluc!”

You were a young entrepreneur who had a passion of spreading flowers to the world, to give happiness and love to everyone. Now, you were about to make your dream come true, by expanding your shop to Snezhnaya. You lookes so happy, he remembered.

“I’m finally going to have my shop beyond Mondstadt! Isn’t it exciting?”

He chuckled.

“Yes, dear. It is indeed.”

“I’m going to be gone for a few days to check out the store. But don’t worry, I’ll get you some souvenirs while I’m at it! And of course, send letters!”

You took your luggage bag, and walked up the plank, stopping midway at the entrance to give him a bright smile.

“Just wait for me!”

That was the last smile you would ever give him.

The last words you ever spoke to him.

The last sight of you he could ever see again.

Late at night, your ship had crashed and sunk deep into the sea, no body to be found.

Your dreams were crushed.

And he was crushed.

He lost his calm and collected persona

because he had lost you.

He demanded for answers, a search to find your ship.

But he knew deep down,

you could never be found again.

You were gone.

He was lost.

==========================================================

“Master Diluc-”

“I’m not in the mood.”

It had been days after your death, your funeral was carried out in the early afternoon under the bright sunlight,

it was warm and bright,

but no happiness could be found.

No warmth from the sun could amount to the warmth you gave him.

And now you were gone, he was thrown away into the cold.

Again.

Now, locked up in his office, drowning himself with mountains of paperwork to drown away his sadness,

like how the sea drowned you to your death. Away from him.

“This is the letter y/n wrote in the ship she was in before it... yeah,” Jean said.

You had wrote him a letter immediately?

“Her eagle sent it.”

Ah, yes. He gave you one. 

“Where is it..?”

“The eagle is in her room, and the letter... here,” she gave Diluc a white envelope with a slight creases on it.

Diluc ordered your room to be kept untouched. He never went in, though.

All he would be remembered is the warm gaze in your eyes when you looked at him, and the calm and relaxed face you held when you were reading on your armchair. All that would do would make him more depressed, but something in him could not bring himself to get rid of your room either. He felt as if your spirit would still wonder, wanting to read more books even after death.

“Thank you. You’re dismissed.”

And with that, Jean walked away.

He held his breath as he clutched onto the envelope ever so slightly.

He opened it.

Inside, was a white piece of folded paper with a dried qingxin flower.

He unfolded the paper.

“Diluc,

        I am quite scared yet excited for this ride to Snezhnaya. I have never went beyond the borders of Mondstadt, so I have no clue of the dangers and wonders the sea can bring. So far I came across glittering waters and the bright sunlight, so this must be a ride filled with good fortune!”

He snorted a bit, half filled with genuine cheerfulness as he felt as if you were right in front of him talking to him of how excited you were. Half was bitter, as he knew that ride was not a lucky one.

        “But, if anything were to happen, know that I would be safe in your heart. I know it’s too early to think about death...but, I can’t help but feel like time is short on this ride. I-”

He paused and slam a fist on his desk. Why would you curse yourself?! Do you know how desperate he wanted to believe he could wait for you to come back, throw his arms around you?

A tear drop trickled down his cheeks.

He read again,

“- I shouldn’t be worrying. But if anything happens to me, I want you to know Qing (the eagle) would be right there for you when this letter reaches you. I want you to be happy and be more open with your feelings to someone. Just an inch, no, a centimeter to someone...that would truly make me happy. I love you, don’t ever forget that, Diluc.”

Diluc couldn’t take it anymore. He broke down into a silent sob.

“ For now, wait for me! I can’t wait to tell you all about Snezhnaya!”

“I shall wait for you, to show me who I can turn to, my dear..” Diluc whispered as he clutched the letter close to his chest.

[binniesthighs]

dear anon, sweet anon, thank you so much for requesting this <3 i didn’t know that i needed it in my life and now...here it is;) IT WAS SO FUN hehe

melt in your mouth | reader x jisung

Pairing: self insert, gender neutral reader x han jisung 

Genre: that good good smut 

Summary: After hearing a rather interesting story about a certain brand of chocolate aphrodisiacs, your curiosity gets the best of you and your friend’s roommate, Jisung.....a spin off of bites like bittersweet

Word count: 3.7k 

*photocreds to OP!

{see below for tags, nsfw and warnings!} 

Tags: aphrodisiac au, somewhat friends to lovers, hints of mutual pining, bestfriend!seungmin, seungmin’sroommate!jisung, hardswitch!jisung, hardswitch!reader, explicit language, mentions of food/eating, hand stuff (r &m), degredation, petnames, dirty talk, unprotected sex (stay safe cuties), creampie, voyeurism, and we love a plot twist ;)  

~💋~

two flavors seemed excessive. one flavor seemed like just enough. you didn’t want to break the bank or anything on something that was likely crappy quality or potentially psychedelic; even worse, it could be both. 

“and you want to try these with me why?” seungmin pushed his wire-framed glasses up his nose bridge and scrunched it up. he inspected the paper wrapper with a skeptical glare. the design itself was anything but trustworthy: in swirly cursive pink font, the name Cherri Amore and under it, a absurdly large lipstick mark with the outline of a couple doing what must have been fucking “spread eagle.” 

seungmin muttered, leaning over the counter of the dingy kitchen he shared with his roommates, “proven aphrodiasiac and libido booster...? y/n, sorry, i just--i’m fucking lost here--” 

“--ever heard of trying something for the hell of it seung??” you snatched the bar from his hand. “the review that i read online said that it made them crazy fucking horny, so much so that they fucked their best friend of something like five years or something like that. isn’t that insane?!” 

your best friend’s eyes blew out with his mouth aghast, “what the hell?? shit--of course you’d find something insane on the internet like this and drag me into it...”  

in your incredulous laugher, you threw your neck back so hard it hurt a little. “loosen up! it’s probably a scam or something. plus...if it does work on us...don’t act like i haven’t caught you in the act before...” 

seungmin, ever the angel, flushed a shade of fuchsia you thought inhumanly possible for someone to attempt. “that-that wasn’t--that wasn’t what you thought it was!!!” he cast away the chocolate bar as if it were his dick on the very night that you had walked in on something that was supposedly not what it looked like. 

“relax!” you punched your embarrassed friend on the arm which he dramatically rubbed into. “it’s not a sin to jerk off or anything. hell, i do it....obviously.” 

seungmin chuckled out unsteadily, “well, um, what if it does work then, what do we do?” 

you snickered, “ha! hell if i know. cross that bridge when we get there?” 

“so what you’re saying is...this could either be a massive waste of our time, or, both of us get so stupidly turned on that we decide to have sex....with eachother?” 

“that’s the gist i’m getting.” you took to the corner of the shiny pink paper wrapping at the corner. “but...who said that we had to fuck or anything...?” 

from fuchsia to nearly scarlet, seungmin averted his eyes at the speed of light. 

“seung!!! do you have something to tell me?!” your teasing grin spread wide and you lifted your hand to give your adorable friend a clap on the back. 

“i’m just repeating what you said!!” 

you broke the bar open, cracking off the first square on the counter with a solid snap. with a smirk, you offered it to your friend. he reached out, only to nearly jump out of his skin when the old-timey ringtone from his phone erupted in the hollow kitchen. 

“shit.” he murmured under his breath, pulling it out and immediately pressing the call button upon seeing the caller. “h-hello? yeah? wait, wait...slow down...the cultures did what?! and you have to start over?? shit--” 

before you could have anything to do with it, your friend was already throwing on his sneakers and sky blue raincoat. “sorry, y/n but i have to go. that was my co-worker, they said that something went bad with the incubator, and all of the cultures are ruined, and there’s the stupid lab meeting in the morning--” 

“i’m gonna pretend that i understood everything you said.” you hung at the doorway to the kitchen, observing him trip over pairs of shoes and other random-ass college-aged boy items. “you only get a pass because i have a feeling that the coworker we’re talking about here is the cute one.” 

your friend rolled his eyes, mouthing a reluctant, “yes.” 

“fine then. we can try the chocolates another time.” 

“fine--sure--” seungmin grabbed for the handle, “sorry. again.” 

~💋~

you felt like the chocolate bar was taunting you, just sitting there opened with two squares all ready for the eating. oddly, you really couldn’t figure out exactly why you had wanted to try them in the first place. for a second, the guilt and loneliness started to seep through and it felt sticky, pathetic, and stung like thorns right into your breaths. 

“fuck it.” you whispered under your breath, swiping them all up and walking over to the trash can. 

“whatcha got there?” a voice entered the room attached to one of seungmin’s roommates, jisung. 

the two of you had met many times in passing, and you had shared enough small talk to consider him somewhat of an acquaintance. from what you had gathered about the boy, he spent much too much time in his room working on his animations and was the dictionary definition of one of those cocky-assholes you had a soft spot for. 

“jisung--hey. it’s...it’s nothing. something stupid that i blew my money on.” 

“let me see.” he crossed the room, looking wired and overtired as usual. 

from staring at his screen for so long his eyes bagged with dark circles, but somehow it made him look mischievous, or something like that. his muscle tank had been cut low to reveal his sides and ribs which flared when he grabbed for the bar of chocolate. 

“huh.” he scoffed, “i’ve seen like, infomercials for these things. you were going to try it?” 

“yeah...i-i mean--no...i was.” 

“what’s stopping you? not curious anymore?” 

“window of opportunity passed.” 

“i don’t think so.” he grinned, matter of a fact. “i like chocolate.” 

you couldn’t quite believe what was being said to you at first. jisung, the boy that you barely knew, was standing there with his goofy heart-shaped smile and all, holding libido boosters and asking you to take them with him. 

“you do know what those are, right? what they could do?” 

immediately, he popped one in his mouth, nearly like it was a challenge. “empahsis on the “could.”” 

he held them closer to you, prompting you to take the remaining square which was flecked with little red hard-candy looking bits. 

“fine then. you’re right. what they could do.” you downed the candy, crunching it and finding that the quality was certainly not a guarantee. the thing itself tasted halfway between a tootsie roll and cold medicine. “fuck.” 

jisung laughed, throwing the rest of the bar away.

“what did you that for?” 

“i’m guessing whether they work or not, you might not need them anymore.” 

your friend’s roommate slicked his hair back, and ruffled it over his dark eyes. his face was slightly puffed with exhaustion, but it didn’t make him any less handsome. 

“so we wait now?” you asked, glancing at the clock. 

“wanna order some food or something?” he smacked his lips, “i need a fucking chaser after that.” 

~💋~

you didn’t know what time it was; late, probably. after a couple hours of realizing that nothing was really going to happen to you or your friend’s roommate, you had decided to stop expecting it. although, you had kind of hoped...

the sofa that the boys shared was just about as comfortable as you had remembered it. it was large enough to hold you and seungmin’s two roommates on better days, but, once again, random-ass college-boy stuff cluttered at least half of it. it was one of those “dumpster finds” and kind of smelled like a grandma’s house, but honestly, that was what made it so comfortable. 

the tv carried on, playing some kind of animated movie that jisung had chosen claiming that the director was some kind of “god of animation and storytelling.” you liked the colors, but soon you felt yourself being lulled and drowsy: your head felt heavy simply resting on your shoulders. 

your eyelids fogged, and the sounds from the tv set started to fade into inexistence. beside you, jisung had crossed his arms, but the lack of space had pressed both of your thighs together, and the warmth from his leg started to wash over your drowsy state. your head bobbed, swayed...then fell, directly onto his shoulder. had you been more lucid, you would have cared more. 

“oh--” he jumped slightly, and shifted awkwardly. 

the room darkened and soon all you could see was the thin line of light that your half-open eyes allowed. 

“this-this can’t be comfortable for you.” jisung hushed and clicked the tv off. “hey, you should be heading to bed anyway, it’s late.” 

“are you kicking me out, jisung?” you babbled, not really aware of your own words. 

your friend’s roommate chuckled, straightening his posture to support you. “i’m not gonna make you walk back to your place at this time of night.” 

“it’s only a couple of blocks--” 

“--you’ve slept over here before, haven’t you?” 

you stretched out your arms with a little squeak.

“yeah. on the couch.” 

“you...can’t do that. you’d have to sleep in a fucking corkscrew if you did that.” 

“yeah, i know.” you giggled, now finding yourself in a kind of stupor that made you wonder if the chocolates really were doing their job. “i’ll just take seung’s bed then--” 

“--he’s! not back...yet.” jisung hugged his arms to himself. “i dunno, shouldn’t he have his bed when he comes back?” he cleared his throat, composing himself. “of course, there’s space in my bed if you’d like.” 

“me? sleep with you?” 

“yes, with me.” just as he had before, that little challenging edge coated his tone, “only if you’re comfortable i mean. i guess that i’m forgetting that the most that the two of us have shared yet is some wack-ass chocolate so, i shouldn’t be making any assumptions.” 

“no, no!” you pounced off from the couch, reaching high to the ceiling to stretch out your sore back next. and, perhaps to let your shirt tuck up just a little bit as you did so. “i don’t have a problem with it.” 

jisung nodded, grinning in the half-lit room, cleaning away to-go boxes. you had noticed before, but the way that his triceps tensed when he moved around was really just a little too distracting. 

“you can head on in, but--be quieter about it. jeongin is sleeping in here.” 

you clicked off a sleepy salute, following the hall down exactly where you had known his room to be, but you had never entered it before. it didn’t surprise you, but it was just as messy as the rest of the place was, and you had to tip-toe around god-knows what to find your way.

after tripping on something soft and sort of damp, (which you prayed was a shower-towel) you made your way to jisung and his face illuminated by the blue-glow of his phone screen where he had immediately jumped in bed after navigating through the room much more skillfully than you had.  

“you have an issue if i sleep in my underwear?” you asked, realizing. 

jisung paused, wide eyed, but quickly fell back into his casual and cocky smirk. “i mean, that’s basically what i’m doing so...”  

“scooch over. i hope you’re not a blanket hogger or anything.” 

the bed was already pleasantly warm from jisung having occupied it. it would have felt amazing if you had been as tired as you had been moments ago, but now your entire body felt horribly wide-awake. 

“--and if you start to snore, i’m leaving you for the couch, got it?” 

jisung let out an airy laugh, shifting and creaking the bed a bit under him, “i don’t snore...for your information.” 

with the blankets pulled up to your nose, you turned to lay on your back, eyes finally adjusting to the darkness of the room. above you, the faint green glow of glow-in-the-dark stars sprinkled across the ceiling, making up constellations: from what you could make out, the big dipper was above jisung’s bed, and the little one was above jeongin’s, who peacefully slept with tiny breaths. 

jisung rolled to the side, accidently brushing his bare leg against yours. 

“night, y/n. sorry the chocolates didn’t work out. would’ve been kind of hilarious if they did.” 

“psh.” you rolled over too, closing your eyes, “you saying you would’ve taken up the opportunity to get in my pants?” 

“guess we’ll never know.” he sighed. 

~💋~

birds chirped, signaling the coming sunrise what was nearly breaking upon the horizon, and filled with deep blue sky with a type of orange-glow. the room was dim and stuffy, and noticeably much hotter than you remembered it being before. over the course of the night, you had tangled your legs with the sheets, finding them trapping you between them, and you shuffled to escape them and feel the air hit your skin. they shifted, letting you feeling the sticky mess between your legs. 

“what the--” the aching and heated desire made itself painfully obvious, soaking directly through your underwear, making a wet mess of them where you throbbed with an utterly unexplainable arousal that reverberated in your core. 

the friction from your legs only heightened the sensation, and you found yourself unwillingly rutting down into the mattress just to feel an ounce of relief. 

fuck, the chocolates, you recalled. while you had expected to feel something from them, this was twenty times more intense than anything you could have planned for. 

you were like an animal in heat, vulnerable, weak, dazed. your body set ablaze, and it only made sense to strip of any and all clothing that held you back. in your own desperation, you had completely forgotten about the man resting next to you. 

“y/n? what's--what are you doing?” jisung groggily croaked in a tone several octaves lower than you were accustomed to. your brain could only calculate it is as downright, unbelievably sexy. 

“jisung, i’m fucking burning up, an-and, i think i’m finally feeling something....are you?” 

he hadn’t noticed it at first until he did, but from where he could see where the blanket dipped all the way down to your waist, you were completely bare. with fluttering eyes, he gulped down dry. you noticed the way that he took you all in, looking at every inch of you. you reveled in how he greedily and shamelessly didn’t stop. 

under the covers, his own legs twisted. 

“me too.” he answered gravely, speaking with a low whisper.  

carefully, his tentative touch advanced under the covers, slowly reaching to your bare hip, where he settled a testing caress, squeezing harder, then cascaded down the small of your back to make you shiver. your own hand did the same, instead finding his leg and creeping your hand up and under his shirt. little space existed between the two of you, and only the panting of your heavy inhales and exhales could be heard. 

your eyes glued to his, beautifully brown and dilating, trembling a little while holding yours. from his light touches, it took every bit of your will to control yourself from launching over him. jisung’s hand fell lower, and toyed with the elastic band of your underwear which had started to feel painfully confining. each of your own fingers traveled up his torso, brushing over his chest which made his whole body shake. 

“sh-shit, i’m so fucking--” jisung started, dropping off his words to let out a wavering sigh. you didn’t need to guess any further. 

jisung slid two fingers under your elastic band, and it became too much to handle. 

“please, touch me jisung.” you whined out pitifully, clawing directly into the soft muscles of his back. 

you were shocked how quickly he had given into you, immediately crashing his lips against yours first, then using both arms to pull you into his chest so close it stole all of your breath away. you kissed him back roughly, ravenous to feel the sensation of his mouth against your own. he growled out a small groan directly into your lips, sloppily working every single corner and edge of your mouth with a devilish smile curling his own. 

lower, both of your hips met flush, grinding and twisting to create the kind of pressure that the both of you craved. limbs twisted, sweating and heated skin mingled, and you could feel every bit of his hardened cock right against your own arousal and how his shaft throbbed helplessly. 

“you taste so good.” he murmured between haphazard kisses, letting his low tone vibrate against you. 

“take these off.” you ordered, tugging at his boxers, nearly taking them off yourself. 

“take yours off.” he echoed, and you did. 

curious hands plunged deeper, delighting fingers in the slick of the other’s cum. 

“fuck.” jisung dragged the explicative over your lip where he lapped lazily into you. “don’t stop.” 

you gave him a moment’s pause, stopping to wet your palm with saliva, then met it with his cock. you worked his length with the sharp and twisting turn of your wrist, causing him to whimper out shamelessly. 

“shhh.” you hissed, pulling his lip with our teeth, “don’t want to wake up your roommate do we?” 

he nodded, biting each and every tantalizing little sound into his lip instead. your own breaths grew shallow feeling the pressure from his hand between your legs and how he had grabbed into your thigh to swing it over his hip for better access. 

“wouldn’t you like me to fuck you out, baby? fuck you like the good little cock whore that you are for me? i’ve seen the way that you look...you’ve wanted this...haven’t you?” jisung’s words were slick and luxurious despite their bite.  

to suppress the begging moan in your throat, you cupped your hand over your mouth, and pressed hard into it. 

the blanket tented from your pulling at his cock and how you rubbed over his slit: it was an ethereal sight even in the blurriness of the room. 

slowly, you leaned over to his ear, waist rocking back and forth over the sensation of his hand rubbing into you relentlessly. “don’t lie baby, you want my ass bouncing on your cock...don’t you?” 

in one movement, he swept his full body weight over yours and harshly pulled your legs back to open your entrance just for him to tease with his tip. he guided himself in slowly and meticulously, bottoming out once you had sunk your fingers into his shoulders to manage some of the screams you would have let out otherwise. 

“fuck yes, baby.” jisung growled, finding an animalistic pace that burned your whole body with white flames of pleasure. 

you grew impatient wondering furiously what his cute little pouty cheeks would look like when you fucked him from above, riding his dick. you wouldn’t wait any further, taking your grasp on his shoulders to then flip him, settling your hips over his dick which you pounced on to the tune of one of his moans slipping past, loud and guttural. 

“shut. the fuck. up.” you scolded him, throwing your hand over his pretty mouth. he whimpered out once again, eyes rolling feeling the tip of his dick reach as deeply inside of you as you would let it.  “cum inside me sungie, i won’t stop until I have every last drop.” 

jisung nodded, chest flaring as his breaths quickened. 

“cum for me baby, and i’ll cum for you...got it?” your breathy whispers scratched your throat, but you needed him to hear. 

you held his eyes which glistened with two pretty little tears that fell  as he came hard, shaking with his whole body and letting each of his gleeful moans come spiraling into your hand. 

your own heat came surging, right at your core, growing....growing...

a lamplight flashed on. 

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING? WHAT THE--WHAT THE--” 

jeongin threw his sheets over his eyes, while shuddering. “I WAS FUCKING SLEEPING!!” 

his shrill scream sent you jumping out of your lust, and you scrambled off jisung’s throbbing and pink cock, and forgetting the force of gravity, which sent his cum dripping out from inside of you. in your panic, you grabbed at anything to cover up your body and his, only to get so tangled that you lost your balance on the edge of the bed and.....

~💋~

THUMP 

your body hit the wooden floor of jisung and jeongin’s room, right on your butt where you knew that it would be hurting for weeks. 

as disoriented as you were, it took you a good few minutes to realize what had actually just happened. 

“y/n?” jisung called with his groggy half-awake, half-asleep tone. “did you just fall out of the bed?” 

on the opposite side of the room, you whipped your head over to see jeongin still peacefully sleeping with his back turned to jisung’s bed.

“fuck--um, yeah. i did. shit...” 

jisung chuckled in the dark room just barely peeking with the first bits of the sunrise in streaming into the room. 

“i don’t know how you did that considering i gave you plenty of space. get back up here.” 

still dazed and brain overheating, you could have sworn you felt the little aftershocks of the orgasm that felt so real still coursing through your body. 

you felt it too: the way that your underwear had slicked. some part of it all must’ve been real. 

“jisung--” you started, not even sure if you wanted to tell him in the first place. “are you certain that you didn’t feel anything?” 

jisung turned to face you and shook his head, “no, you?” 

you hesitated, holding his eyes to see that he must have been telling the truth. 

“i just...i just had this insane dream...” 

“dream? about what?” 

“it’s hard to explain...” you trailed. 

“you look kind of shaken up, are you sure that you’re okay?” jisung extended a careful hand, and smoothed down the side of your face in the way that had felt frighteningly real only seconds ago. his hand lingered, falling down your neck and giving you goosebumps. your eyes fell to his lips, and you wondered if they would taste like you had imagined them to be. 

you leaned in closer, closing the gap. 

“it went something like this.” 

~🌹~

Bunch of (Ro)ses! 

@minaamhh @dazzlehoseok @synnocence @jjewibeans @hyunsluvv @unexceptional-h @bobawithchaitea @lechanters @sailorhyunjinz @silencefavarchive @lunarskzzz  @yourdaddychan @bubblelixie @spnobsessedmemes @cherrychngkyn @iwanttobangchan @bowlofblueberries @lmhmins @eunaeiekim

[hotwings0203]

Yandere Dabi or Mr. Compress as pirates or aliens same anon.mind control nsfw for aliens. But for the pirates they capture a angry siren princess?

Tw:noncon, gangbang implication

When you’re lugged up in hard wiry net, you’re furious.

When you thrash and turn out of the water, different voices jeering at you, you bare your teeth back and let out a shrill scream that makes them cover their ears and yell at you to shut the hell up.

You take one last look at the blue ocean beneath you, and you swear the waves are reaching up in a farewell salute.

Your body is tangled in fishing net, some of it cutting into your arms, some of it into your now/forming legs. You don’t beg them for mercy. You’ve seen jellyfish with a worse sting than this whole situation.

But when the crew goes quiet, and they part like the Red Sea for their captain, you got silent too.

For the most abominable pirate stands before you, in all his black clothed-glory under the setting sun, a black hat tilted low on his face so that you couldn’t see all of it except for weird burnt patches around his lower face.

He wore a black trench coat with white engraving on the sides, a white ruffled shirt underneath the accessory. His boots had bits of actual skulls where his laces should be, and something tells you to keep quiet when he pulls out his sword.

He brandishes it before you and laughs when you flinch back, hissing in retaliation.

“And what have we here, boys? A little fish out of water?” The blade goes under your chin and tilts your head up, his own cocking to the side and scrutinizing your wet, naked body.

“Put me back, you vile bastard. I’ve done nothing to you or your crew. You’re in my waters-“

“-is that right? Well, why didn’t you say so?” He grins and lifts his head up. You finally see his face, half of it covered by spiky white hair with black tips, similar to the flag their ship proudly waves.

He steps back and spreads his arms wide. “Well then, little minnow. Go on, swim away!”

The brute laughs when met with your incredulous face.

“I’m serious! If you own these waters like you said, I’m sure you’ll have no trouble leaving this ship.”

You say nothing, but stare at him for a minute more before slowly entangling yourself, eyes never leaving his smirking form.

You’ve gotten through one tedious knot before you feel your legs being pulled tightly away from your body, as if someone were trying to take your lower half off.

You cry out and land on your hands. When you whip your head down you see one of the men fisting his hand around a stray clump of wires and pulling experimentally.

“Stop! What’re you doing?” You try to choke out but your wrists are pulled in the same fashion to the point where you feel your oceanic ichor being cut off from circulation.

Three, four more areas across your chest, up your bare cunt, around your throat are pulled this way and that, your limbs being eagle-spread.

You can’t even use your voice to sway them from torturing you, all you can do is let spittle fly out of your gaping mouth as your face slowly begins to flush in color.

The sea breeze casts its gentle hand across your ruddy cheeks as you see spots.

A seagull flies above you and hovers for a moment, contemplating helping its princess before seeing one of your fingers twitch in the opposite direction, an order to keep it moving.

It flies away, and a lone tear runs down your face.

The captain slowly walks in between your open legs, turning and shaking his head at you.

“What’s wrong princess? I thought you were so big and bad, weren’t you gonna show me who runs these waters?” He nudges his tie against your fleshy cunt and you shakily inhale.

“F-fuck…y-y-“

He clicks his tongue and the knots around your pussy and tits squeeze harder, the material rubbing uncomfortably against the sensitive areas.

All you can do is gasp for air as he unsheathe his sword again and taps it on your clit. The men around him are practically salivating as they watch the show.

You’ve never been so degraded, so humiliated before.

Captain Dabi hawks up some saliva and expertly spits it right onto your bound tit, exactly on your swelling nipple.

The crowd cheers as he takes his hat off and bows, leering at you as hands descend and start rubbing it into your slippery flesh.

With one flick of his hand, he grants his men permission to do as they please, and with a general roar dozens of limbs begin etching their mark onto your body.

He leans against the banister and smiles at you handsomely.

Everyone is shouting and grunting for a turn on your sob-wracked form, but you can still hear his gravely voice.

“Tell Mother Ocean she’ll get her precious daughter and land back when I’m dead.”

[bump1nthen1ght]

Thicker than Water (Demon x Reader) Chapter 1

Pairing: Female Reader x Gender Fluid! Demon

Genre: High Fantasy

Warnings: Arm Injuries, Several mentions of blood

Word Count: 1870 Words

Summary: A summoning gone awry ends up in your favor

Chapter 2

A/N: Alright, I know I literally just posted a demon story but this post showed up on my dash and my god if I have never been more inspired to write a fic. I legit wrote this in 2 hours in a frenzy. Also I plan this story to be multi-chap, but still rather short, so maybe 3 parts in total

Before that night, you had never known what nearly-passing out felt like.

Your mother had done it, once or twice, usually after a particularly stressful day at the shop. If you didn’t check on her between your studies she may forget to eat entirely, your father as well. But you had been lucky; Someone had always been there to catch her, to cradle her head and spoon-feed her strength back.

On the forest floor, surrounded by the smell of your own blood, you have no such luxury.

The black spots flickering in your vision blend into the desne canopy above you and your tears only muddle your sight. The iron and copper of the summoning circle drawn around you drown out the scent of fresh pine and grass, while your ears can only focus on your own heartbeat and the bickering of the four boys.

Oh, that’s right, they’re still here.

It seems you had lost more fluid than you realized, probably because of your incessant crying. You had tried to stop the flow, but your brain was losing coherent function with every second. The boys conversation sounds far away and hollow, bouncing off your eardrums and confusing your sense of direction

“You idiot, I told you not to go for the arm!”

“We needed a lot of blood!”

“But she needs to read the ritual dumbass! She can’t if she dies!”

Ah yes, the ritual, it all is flooding back to you now.

Having received a private education from your father at your family’s apothecary, you were already prone to isolation as a child. It didn’t help having no siblings, nor a lacking natural talent for friend-making. Although you had lived in the city all your life, the young people your age knew very little about you, and you them.

You knew they had rumors about you, The daughter the apothecary hides away; That your gaze can turn people to stone, that you can curse and poison people with a couple words and the right ingredients.

The truth was you weren’t so glamorous. You knew your way around a medicine cabinet, sure, but nothing about poisons or magic spells. You didn’t have any special abilities to compensate or explain your reluctance for socialization. Just some overprotective parents and a shy disposition.

So when the handsome postmasters-son began to pay you special visits, you let your guard down. You let him walk you to and from the market, memorizing your weekend route. You let him in for a bit of tea late at night, especially when it seemed so cold, and told him where the spare key was kept. And yes, you even told him about your favorite secluded spot in the forest, where the sounds of civilization were far away, where you could be alone.

And here, in these last moments of your life, you can’t help but feel so naive.

“Hey, hey!”

A boot taps your cheek, shaking you out of your revelry. Your glassy eyes look over to your right.

It’s one of the local merchant’s boys, you think his name is Nicholas? It doesn’t really matter. All you knew about him was that he was a bit rough around the edges; always nicking things from pockets, looking up ladies skirts, and skipping his lessons. That’s what your dad complained about anyway.

A page is shoveled in front of you, dangling over your face. Your eyes take a while, but focus on the words. Nicholas’ boot heel digs into your neck.

“Read it out loud, or we’ll kill you.”

Clearly I’m going to die anyway dumbass, why should I help you?

You might’ve retorted, if you were in such a physical condition to do so. But instead, you do as you're told, and start speaking.

To your left, the postmaster’s son, Richard, sucks in a breath with anticipation. Any false composure he had while luring you here is gone, his feet tapping with excitement as he holds your left arm and lef bound spread eagle.

Holding your right leg is Markus, another merchant boy. He picks at his teeth.

“What are you guys going to wish for?” He whispers. It goes in your ear and out the other, too focused on forming coherent sentences.

“A full-harem of babes, obviously.” Simpers Hunter, the son of a landlord. He isn’t ugly, only a bit plain, and has enough money to boot. Compared to the other bachelors in town however, he has had little luck in procuring a courtship.

“A million coins could get you that and more, idiot. That’s what I’m wishing for.” Whispers Richard.

“What are you going to wish for Nic?” Asks Markus

“Oh my gods, will you guys shut the fuck up?”

Nic snarls, unconsciously digging his heel back into your throat. You choke and stutter, but keep going. The runes around you, written in your own blood, begin to glow.

All of the boy’s eyes widen and they step back from you. Your limbs sink like dead weight as the words begin to flow out your mouth with no thought. The paper with the chant drops to the ground, out of your sight, but it's like your brain has been reprogrammed; You know the rest, know it in your bones.

The grass begins to simmer and burn under the summoning circle, smoke swirling into formation above you. When the final word whispers out of you, you feel your body go lax. You don’t even remember tensing up

I guess this is it. Sorry Mom, Sorry Dad.

You clench your eyes, just hoping the demon will be quick. That it will at least leave a recognizable corpse.

“Holy shit.” You hear muttered, unsure by whom.

Your eyes are closed, body teetering on the brink of unconsciousness, but your senses are still intact. A hot wave of breath washes over your face and the ground below you trembles with heavy footsteps. The boys are quiet but you can hear their hearts pounding. They thrum with life, while yours slowly fades.

“Why have you summoned me, mortal?”

Even half-dead, your muscles tense in fear. The demon's voice is deep and resonates like a crowd talking all at once. It reeks of inhuman power and cracks like thunder.

A brief silence passes, before Nicholas finds his courage.

“We have come to ask for a wish.”

Later, when recounting the story, you will mention that the demon looked over to Nicolas, unamused, despite never seeing it yourself. The demon huffs, the heat of it blowing over you once more.

“I don’t believe I asked you.” The demon mutters. The cacophony of voices blend together into one, bland and emotionless. Even in your state however, you are able to decipher a couple of louder tones which overpower the others. They seem...angry.

“But...you…”

“I asked….”

Your eyes snap open as a wet droplet lands on your cheek. Lingering above you, drool seeping from their unnaturally sharp teeth, is the creature. It’s face resembles that of a goat, but sharp fangs stick out from their lower lips. Their eyes are golden and shine in the night, piercing right into yours. Despite the part of your body screaming out in terror, another part feels oddly….comforted. It’s why you don't startle when they brush a hand against your cheek, their thumb wiping away your tears. Their palm is warm, not like a blistering flame, but like a thick quilt. Like hot chocolate on a rainy day.

“......What do you need of me, little one?”

Their hand, padded and calloused, slides down your arm, closing up the large gash on your inner bicep. In another movement, they do the same to the other. Power and vitality seems to sink back into your body, drip by drip.

Words escape you, but not Nicolas.

“Excuse me, demon, but we're the ones who summoned you.” The sarcastic tone of his does little to hide the quivers of his fear, especially when the demon's neck turns toward him at an unnatural speed. Still, he persists. “Not her. And we want-”

“Do you take me for a blind fool?” The voice bellows, sending all the boys to their knees. Markus clutches his ears while Hunter whimpers on the ground. Nicolas falls back to the ground, eyes widen.  The demon stands to their full height, several feet above all of you. “Do you think I was born without smell, without sense?” The step away from your body, swiping at the ground with their fingers, taking a small bit of your blood with it.

The demon sticks their thumb and forefinger in front of Nicolas’s face, causing him to yelp and fall onto his back. “Is this your blood which forged the connection? Was it your words that spoke me into existence? Was it your body which came to the brink, wrenched open the door and pulled us both through?”

Nicolas, trembling like a leaf, shakes his head no. The demon’s eyes jerk up to the others. “And was it any of these young men?”  

Richard furiously shakes his head, while Hunter stays collapsed on the ground. Markus pushes himself away, hands still clamped around his ears. The demon sneers, before turning and walking back to you.

The demon kneels before propping your upper body up with a gentle touch. A comforting claw rubs your lower back while another paw rubs the tension out of your shoulders.

“Now, mistress, what may you ask of me?”

Your muscles may no longer tire from blood loss, but your mind truly feels like it’s on the brink of breaking. The demon, with fearsome fangs and a soft look, looks to you for an answer.

“I-I…” You mutter as the demon continues to massage your back. They hum.

“Take your time, it is alright. Rituals are difficult, I can only imagine the toll your body feels.” The mass of voices have synchronized, fading from a hundred to a single, harmonious tune. It is cavernously deep, but pleasant. It reminds you of the portly older man who used to read stories aloud every holiday.

You feel your body unconsciously turn towards your captors. Nicholas stays stuck to the ground, the whites of his eyes almost glowing in the darkness. The others have slowly moved to their knees, all terrified with shaky limbs, and look like they might make a run for it. Markus is slowly inching towards Nicholas’ shoulders, trying to lift him up to his senses.

For the first time in your life, a deep, boiling hatred burns your skin.

Cowards. You sneer, with all the malice stored in your reserves.

“I want-I want…” You stumble as the anger bubbles out of your belly. “I want them to hurt. To feel humiliated.” Nails bite into the palm of your hand, letting out blood as you clench knuckles. “I want everyone to know what they’ve done, who they are, every fault they’ve ever been guilty of. I want them alive, but I want them to burn.”

The demon smiles, pulling you in for a hug. You collapse into their embrace, keeping your eyes locked onto the boys, those rats. The demon hums a contented tune as they rub your back.

“As you wish, my master.”

[ill-be-your-honey-bri]

Wouldn’t It Be Nice

Hello all!

It is an honor to say that I am participating in my very first Fic Challenge! @helladirections​ put together this AMAZING Summer Feeling Challenge with a list of a bunch of summer prompts for writers to chose from. For this fic, I chose the BBQ and Fireworks as my prompt.

So without further ado, I present a very fluffy college!Harry.

Warnings: Fluffy-fluff, mild drug and alcohol use.

Please keep an eye out for the other writers and fics involved in the Summer Feeling Challenge and spread some love and peace to those amazing writers as well.  

Harry had always looked forward to the summer; time off from school, getting back to work in the bakery and bugging Barbara. The thing he looks forward to the most is his time with his family at the lake house, and going to the lake house meant spending the summer with you.

Harry had a school boy crush on you since your family bought the lake house down the road. He was in awe of how fearless you were. You were always the first to grab at any creepy-crawly or amphibian, the first to dive into the lake, and the one to suggest scary stories in the middle of the night at the gazebo by the lake.

As time progressed, Harry’s crush turned into something more. He remembers the first summer of puberty when you filled in your bathing suit a little too well and how he is positive he was sporting a semi the whole summer. Damn hormones.

But now, on his drive to the lake house, he smiles thinking of how he will be reunited with his summertime buddies and the girl he can never get off his mind. He turns up the music, hearing “Summer of ‘69” to put him in the perfect mood for another great summer.

Harry drives past your house, seeing your car already parked there. He is half tempted to stop at your place first but realizes that you're probably down by the lake already. His mom is out front of their house talking to your mom when Harry pulls up, both women promptly giving him a hug when he steps out.

“God Harry, you got so big and handsome! And your hair!” Your mom praised Harry as he tried to detangle his hair from the wind of having the windows down, giving her a shy smile an a ‘thank you’.

“Y/N is down by the lake with Sarah and Mitch darling, she has been asking about you.” Anne gave him a wink and a tap on the bum, knowing his feelings for you, your mom giggled at Harry’s blush. As Harry was walking away, he could hear your mom mumble, “Always thought those two would be perfect together.” Harry’s shy smile turned beaming as he walked his bag to his room.

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

Harry walked out the back of the lake house and began his walk to the dock. He could hear The Beach Boys playing, becoming clearer the closer he got to the lake. He could see Sarah laying out next to Mitch, who was sitting in a chair with his guitar in his lap, lazily strumming along to “Good Vibrations”. He couldn’t see you until you breached the water, hiking yourself up onto the dock.

“Harry!” You quickly stood up and ran before you tumbled into his arms, still dripping from your swim and not grabbing a towel. He embraced you, giving you a tight squeeze, soaking his shirt. You giggled as he picked you up so that your feet were a few inches off the ground.

Sarah and Mitch quickly got up to give Harry a warm and welcoming embrace before all walking to where your towels were all laid out so you can all sit and talk. Everyone was talking about their year since they last saw each other. Well, accept Mitch and Sarah since they have been dating since last summer.

It was getting warm, so Harry took off his now dry shirt. You gasped when he did, seeing his skin exposed littered with new black ink. He had a few accumulating over the summers but there were so many new ones for your eyes to explore.

You propped yourself on your knees looking at all the ink in their details, Harry shivered as your fingers grazed his skin. He could see Sarah and Mitch begin to smirk and giggle just past your head but he quickly returned his gaze to you; skin glowing in the sun, hair frizzing from its air drying. You were more beautiful every summer. You smiled up at him as you talked about the new markings before the smell of the grill indicated it was time to head back to help set up for the barbeque.

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

The barbeque was being held at Harry’s house, his step-dad, Robin, wearing the fitting apron that says “Grill Master”. Your dad was helping Robin with grabbing the meat from the kitchen that he had helped prep to bring it out to the porch where the grill and it’s master were perched.

Anne had put on an Eagles playlist that was coming through an outdoor speaker, Robin and your dad singing into their tongs and spatulas. Anne was putting together a summer sangria on the porch when all of you came running up the back steps from the lake.

Mitch’s and Sarah’s parents started bringing out different dishes with salads and fruits, your mom following with plates and silverware. Harry promptly took the cutlery and plates from your mom and began to set the table, you were quick to help Harry, bumping his hip with yours. Mitch and Sarah were helping with chairs.

“One of These Nights” began to play through the speaker and you grabbed Harry’s hand to begin dancing and singing along, Sarah did the same with Mitch, your dad with Robin.

Anne was emitting bubbly laughs as she and your mom passed out a glass of sangria to everyone. Once Robin sang that his masterpieces were complete, everyone sat at the table.

Harry sat across from you, smirking at you throughout your meal, giggling when you had barbeque sauce on your cheeks. You quickly wiped it off and nudged his shin with your foot.

Conversation was light throughout the meal, everyone’s parents asking all the kids how school is, what their future plans are, how much longer until they graduate. Harry kept his eyes on you as you were telling Mitch’s dad your favorite classes and how you are starting to look at graduate programs.

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

The night had come to an end when the sun had set, all the families exchanging ‘good nights’ and hugs. You were the last one that Harry had embraced. You turned your head to his ear to whisper, “gazebo at midnight”, before pulling away and kissing his cheek. You ran off quickly to catch up with your parents as well as Sarah and her family, grabbing Sarah’s hand before turning to look back at Harry. You gave him a final smile and wave before turning back to talk with Sarah.

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

Harry should have known that it wouldn’t be just the two of you at the gazebo, it was tradition after all.

Sarah and Mitch were sitting on the banister as you were spreading out the blanket for you all to sit on. Mitch was packing a bowl while Sarah was sipping on the bottle of liquor she stole from her parents cabinet. You were all of age at this point but it was a sentimental gesture from all the years prior.

Harry gave a weak smile and a wave as he approached. You had brightened when he stepped foot in the gazebo, skipping to him to grab his hand to pull him to the blanket. Your eyes were glowing in the twinkling lights hung along the top of the shelter.

Sarah handed you the bottle as Mitch took his first hit, promptly handing it to Harry. As Harry was inhaling, you had grabbed the bag that you brought with snacks and your phone, putting on some music and opening up the bag of Doritos.

You popped a chip in your mouth as Harry passed the bowl to you. “So, do you have a boyfriend from school?” You smiled at him before taking a hit and holding your breath, shaking your head no as you exhaled.

“No, but I had a girlfriend last semester. Found out she was screwing our whole friend group so I ended that quickly.”

Harry choked on the liquor he just tipped back, coughing with a, “Sorry to hear that.”

You shrugged it off before asking Harry, “And you? Any boyfriend or girlfriend?” smirking as he blushed. This group of friends were the only people you all could truly be open to, both you and Harry had come out as bisexual last summer.

“No, no one for me.” He began to dig into the snacks as the booze and weed got passed around.

“That’s a shame, you're a catch.” Everyone looked straight at you with wide eyes. Sarah giggling out from either the liquor, the weed, or the fact that she knew you had a massive crush on Harry.

Harry was stunned by your comment, giving a shy ‘thank you’ as you passed the bowl back around to him. Sarah continued her giggles, falling into Mitch who was kissing the top of her head.

The night progressed with the passing of substances between the four of you and ended with all your heads in the middle of the blanket telling stories from college. You began to yawn, getting a shiver from the wind. Harry pulled off his green flannel and handed it to you for you to keep yourself warm.

After putting your arms in the sleeves, you rolled over to rest your head on Harry’s chest, falling asleep to the now talkative Mitch telling horror stories from his pizza delivery job. Harry wrapped his arm around your waist to pull you close to him.

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

The next morning, you all wake up to the sun rising, the lake reflecting the pink and orange sky. Harry woke up before you so he was able to take in your sleeping beauty. He moved the hair away from your face, flinching when Sarah talked.

“She really likes you, ya know? All she talks about is you whenever we are on the phone. Counted down the days until summer vacation.”

Harry began to smile looking back down at you, tickling your cheek with the tips of fingers causing you to rouse. You blink at him slowly and mumble a ‘morning’ before cuddling back into him.

After all fully waking up, you made your way to Sarah’s place where her parents were setting up a breakfast buffet on the porch. You promptly grab a plate and a mug of coffee before settling next to Harry and eating your breakfast, softly smiling as you both munched away.

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

You had spent all day on the boat with your parents, warming your skin in the sun and reading your book of the moment. You had watched Harry swimming and splashing around by the dock with Mitch.

“Are you excited for the fireworks sweetie?” Your mom had asked you as she added some more lotion to your shoulders so you don’t burn.

“There are fireworks tonight?”

“Mhm. The owners of the lake are putting on a show for the anniversary of when they opened it up.”

“I wonder if Harry knows. He hates fireworks.”

You dad looked over at you as he started the engine of the boat to head back to the dock, “What better way to spend your night than distracting Harry during fireworks.”

“Dad!” You were all laughing at what your dad was insinuating, approaching the dock to moor the boat. You hopped off to tie up the boat as Harry was swimming up to the dock boosting himself out of the water and grabbed his towel.

“Have a nice swim?” You stood up straight to see Harry was close behind.

“I did. Did you have a nice boat ride?” He was towel drying his hair before he started to wipe down his body.

“I did. Hey, do you want to hang out at the gazebo with me tonight? Just us?”

Harry stopped drying his legs and looked up at you with a slight shock. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, that would be cool.”

You smiled with a nod, “Good, we can meet up after dinner.” You walked over to give Harry a kiss on his cheek before grabbing your stuff from the boat and running inside.

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

Harry was already at your meeting spot, sitting on the banister and looking out to the lake. He had his go to flannel on and a beanie covering his unruly curls.

You walked up behind him and gently tapped his shoulder that cause him to turn to you.

“Hey.”

“Hey. Have you been here long?”

“Uh, no. Only a few probably. Did you have a good day?”

“I did, thank you. Did you?”

Right when Harry was about to respond, you hear the tell tale sign of a whistle followed by a loud pop that was the start of the firework show. Harry jumped mumbling a ‘fuck me’ as you rested your hands to cover his ears.

Harry looked up at you, blues, reds, and greens painting your skin from the sky. You looked down at Harry mouthing a ‘sorry’ and he quickly rested his hands on yours that were still covering his ears. He moved his hands down your forearms before gripping your waist, pulling you closer.

You were now settled standing between his knees, his fingers wiggling nervously on your hips. You continued to look down at him, gently brushing at his hair that your fingers can reach.

Harry couldn’t take it anymore, loudly asking, “Can I kiss you?” since his perception of sound was off due to you covering his ears. You let out light laugh, nodding as you lean down to slot your lips against his.

Harry hummed into the kiss, pulling you closer by your hips, moving his lips to have more of you. He pulled away to tell you louder than he anticipated that, “I have been waiting so long to do that!”

You let out another laugh, kissing the side of his mouth, pulling away to tell him ‘me too’ before kissing him again.

That night, Harry was no longer afraid of fireworks because whenever he kissed you, all he could see and feel were the bright bursts of colors against your lips.

[babbushka]

Ain’t Too Bad

Flip Zimmerman x Reader

3k ; N S F W (warnings for birthday sex, masturbation, orgasm delay/denial,  d/s undertones, spit as lube, come as lube, crying during sex, dirty talk, begging, name-calling, slight voyeurism) 

Also available on AO3! 

[part of the Flip Zimmerman NSFW Alphabet Prompt series, letters E&F]

He comes through the door, same as he always does after work. Puts his key in the dish by the door, steps out of his cowboy boots, coat up on the hook. He closes the door gently, because it’s late, only one light left on in the foyer so he can see. He’s in a bit of a bad mood, but that’s nothing out of the ordinary. He comes home with a scowl nine times out of ten. He pours himself something from the kitchen, downs it in three big gulps. He’s thirsty still, but that’s alright. He’s got a tall drink of water waiting for him upstairs.

You stayed up to wait for him, same as you always do on late nights like this. Change into something a little more comfortable, a little more racy; nothing but a pair of lacy underwear and stockings clipped to garters. Candles lit in the bedroom, record playing softly to keep you company, hands between your legs to keep you even better company.

Flip makes his way up the staircase, familiar tread of his socked feet on the squeaky floor-board as he moves towards the bedroom. You gasp a little louder, rub your calves together a little faster, get yourself ready for him as he’s coming up to meet you.

Normally you meet him, you’re by the door, ready to pounce with a hug and a kiss.

But this, this isn’t a normal night, this is his birthday.

And you think that he deserves a little extra sugar for it.  

Flip leans against the doorframe of the bedroom, one ankle crossed over the other as he watches you get yourself off, as he smokes his cigarette. He was always so sexy with that damn cigarette, you couldn’t get enough of it. You never wanted to get enough, always wanted more.

“Heellloo,” Flip’s eyebrow twitches as his big muscular arms cross over his chest. “Well aren’t you pretty.”

He looks you over, appraises you. He knows he’s in for a treat tonight, not that he isn’t every night. Every night is something special with you, every night has him hot and fucking bothered in his jeans. But this, this is something extra for him, this is for him.

“You think so?” You breathe out, knowing you must be quite the sight, all spread out, draped across the bed on top of the covers.

You’re laying sideways, so he can’t even really see your pussy or anything, not yet. But that was part of the fun, the not seeing. With your hand in your panties he couldn’t see your pussy even if you were spread eagle for him, even if his face was shoved right up against the lace. Fuck, he’s hard just thinking about that, wanting to bet between your legs. He watches your fingers move into obscurity, and he gulps.

It always got him riled up, that mystery. He’s riled up now.

“Yeah,” He licks his lips, “I do.”

“Why don’t you come in and have a taste?” You moan, the slide of your fingers under your panties spurring him on, making him shift in his jeans, making him hard. You can see it, how hard he is. Fuck he’s big, big all over, but big especially there. You gasp out, “If you’re good, I’ll let you have a little bit more.”

“Get on your back, properly.” He says, stalking forward then.

He blows smoke around, and you revel in it as you roll yourself off your side, let your legs fall apart. The garters and stockings shimmy a little from the movement, rustle. He wants the stockings off, the panties off. But not the garters. Those can stay.

Flip stands at the foot of the bed, rock hard in his jeans as he’s already working on pulling his clothes off. He’s slow about it, each button taking its time, the zipper loud in the quiet of the room.

“You’re sexy when you’re bossy.” Your ribcage expands when you take a deep deep deep breath, bare tits pushing out.

“Don’t be a brat,” He reaches out with one hand to pinch your nipple, to stiffen it and make you moan as you finger yourself slowly, the pads of your fingers circling your clit, getting yourself so wet for him. Flip’s eyes are dark when he says, “Or else I’ll have to punish you, and that’d be a real shame.”

“Would it?” You challenge, before yelping out with pleasure as he shucks his jeans off and climbs onto the bed dipping the mattress, pushing his knee right up against your pussy, rubbing the soaked lace of your panties.

“Watch it ketsl.” He replies, and you grin.

“Kiss me, my lips are lonely.” You pull your hands away from your body and reach out to him with them, fingers slick and sticky, burning hot from being buried in your cunt.

“Spoiled.” Flip grins right back, a smile that he smears against your mouth, taking a gulp of you, taking you apart with his tongue.

You make out like that for a little while, and he climbs on top of you fully. Unclipping the garters he tears away the panties, lets the scrap of fabric roll off the side of the bed. He leans back enough to grab a fistful of the sheer stocking and tug them off your legs one at a time, until you’re almost as naked as him.

He’s in his birthday suit right and proper, his proud cock jutting against the crease where your thigh meets your pussy, and it’s delicious, that friction. He moans into your mouth as he grinds his hips there, knowing he’s so close to your cunt but still so far. Hot pre-come drools from the head of his cock and he only uses it to slick himself up, groans some more.

“Ketsl, princess, I gotta have you.” He says after a minute, after you’re both so kiss-drunk that you can barely open your eyes, all your nerves on fire.

“Which way do you want me?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper, throat already thick.

“However you’d like.” He kisses your cheek, your nose, your neck, but you laugh and shake your head. He was so sweet, so caring, always wanting to do what you wanted, but that wasn’t the point of tonight.

“No no, you pick.” You insist. It’s his birthday, his special day, or evening rather. “I don’t care what you do as long as it’s me -- god knows I’m gonna love it no matter what.”

“Don’t bring him into this.” Flip teases in that deadpan way of his, and you want to tease him back but suddenly he’s got his hands all over you, he’s got you pulled across the mattress, he’s got you positioned the way he wants.

You don’t know what it’s called for real, but it always reminds you of a pretzel, the way you and Flip twine yourselves together. Pretzel dip maybe you could call it, if you’re being crude. He’s got you up on your back, but not really. You’re propped up onto one side, leaning on your elbow.

Flip lifts the leg opposite your elbow and tucks it around his hip, fits himself in the space between your legs and slides home in one hard thrust.

“Flip!” You gasp out, head already falling backwards, your hair tickling the back of your neck.

It’s his favorite position, the pretzel. You don’t know how it all works out, but there’s something about it that lets him get deep, that lets him shove himself so far into you that you’re sure you can feel it bumping against your ribs, your throat.

It’s almost like when he fucks you from behind, but this way he can keep eye contact. He loves looking at you, gets antsy when he can’t. It’s sweet, but more than that it’s so fucking sexy, and you’re already moaning as his cock spears into you, hips already smacking into yours.

“Fuck, wait, I need a pillow or something – oh!” You gasp around a moan as he rolls his hips hard, as he grinds himself into you, filling your cunt up right to the very brim.

Above you, he’s already lost in his own pleasure, teeth digging into his lower lip as he fucks you. His muscles flex and ripple, and it’s such a handsome sight that you hiccup out a moan as he grips your thigh, keeps your leg up, keeps that angle going as he drives into you deep.

“Shit ketsl, oh shit,” He’s already unraveling in between your moans, loud and hot and heavy, “Baby this pussy’s so tight.”

It’s blazing hot, the way his cock pushes into you, how it stuffs you full, how your walls clench around him, wanting him to stay in there and never leave. He looks angry almost, with the way his brows are pinched in and his chest is all splotchy. You can see the veins in his hands, in his neck, in his forearm bulging, and it makes your pussy drip, because you know they’re bulging for you.

“Just for you – all yours, I’m yours, oh fuck right there right there right there -- !” You encourage him as he bounces you on the mattress, as the sound of skin slapping on skin fills the room. You’re dizzy in the best way, body warm and tingling from the inside out.

“Are you my present? You my good whore? Baby, oh ketsl,” Flip grunts, slaps the flesh of the thigh he’s got a death grip on, that thigh that’s his only anchor to the world, only anchor to reality as he doubles over and fucks you fucks you fucks you into the mattress.

“Yesyesyes I’m – ah – Flip oh,” Your eyes fly open and your toes curl and your back arches up up up for him when he presses his thumb hard to your clit, searches for your gspot like this. It’s a little harder to find with this angle, but he looks, and while he does you blink away hot tears from how good you feel, nowhere for the pleasure to go aside from ripping out of your throat and spilling onto your cheeks. “Your cock’s so fucking big!”

“Say it again.” Flip orders, and you moan from the authoritative tone in his voice as he makes you writhe underneath him.

“Your cock’s so big!” You repeat, louder this time, so loud that the sound of it is fuzzy in your ears as your brain rattles around in your skull. “Fuck me with it, make me come on your cock – ”

“No, you have to ask me to come, okay?” He interrupts, making your cunt gush anyway, making your legs tremble, your tits heave. You cry cry cry out an orgasm, but Flip pretends it doesn’t happen, he keeps fucking you hard through it. “You have to ask. Don’t come until I tell you.”

“Okay – oh fuck, okay!” You babble, not really able to string together a sentence as the brutal pace of his hips kept ramming into you. You try to get a grip but your whole body sings, you’re melting under him, going pliant and loose, limp. You shudder through an illegal orgasm, but he’s not done, not at all, so you ask him to fuck you, “Harder?”

Flip clenches his jaw and slows himself down, savoring the feeling of your pussy pulsing around him. He takes his time railing you hard and deep. He’s covered in a beautiful red flush that you can’t even see because your eyelids are so heavy, and all you can do is hiccup out sobs of pleasure.

This position was so good, too good almost, but your arm was starting to hurt from being the only support of your body, and after your first orgasm you’re made of jelly. He doesn’t stop when you lay yourself flat on the mattress, he only grabs a tighter hold of your thighs, keeps you pulled thrust against his hips.

Your toes flex and curl on their own as you twist and shudder on the mattress, and he’s no better. He’s got spit clinging to his chin from the way it flies out of his mouth as he fucks you, the ends of his hair are sweaty and droplets fly onto your bodies. His stomach tenses and flutters, and his hips begin to snap erratically into you.

He adjusts you a little so that he can bend you almost in half, and you go willingly, happily, tears staining the pillow that you kiss, make out with since his lips are so far away. You bite and suck on the cotton pillowcase and it muffles your moans a little, drives him crazy.

“Flip, honey I’m, oh! Flip please, I’m so close.” You cry cry cry on his cock, cry as you want to come again, again already. You’re greedy, you’re spoiled, you want it, you want him to give it to you.

“No, no not yet, hold on for me ketsl, hold on a little longer.” He shakes his head, bends you around his body, moves with you when you move.

The drag of his cock in your cunt is so slippery, all your come and slick mixing with his sweat and spit where he drools onto your pussy. He can’t stop looking at it, watching his cock disappear into you, watching your pussy swallow him whole. He wishes he had more hands, wishes he could touch you and hold you all over all at the same time, but he can’t, he just can’t, so he fucks you hard, makes his cock touch you inside and out.

“Phil please, please honey, let me come, I’ll do anything, I’ll – I’ll – ” You beg, and that’s a dirty move because you know he loves the sound of you begging, he comes from it, and you know that if he comes you can come too, and fuck you want to come again.

“Holy shit,” He moans loud, rolls his hips against yours, grinds his pelvis down onto your pussy, bending himself over you so he can kiss and suck at your nipples, so he can bite you, mark you up, bruise you with his teeth tongue lips, “No dice, not yet, not until I say.”

“I can’t – I can’t,” You hiccup, but he shakes his head.

“Yeah you can, oh fuck,” You know he’s close, you can tell. You can tell with the way he’s starting to breathe too hard, his own nipples stiff little peaks that you’d love to tweak real hard. You can tell with the way his hips are losing their rhythm, how he’s reduced down to desperate pleas of his own, “Just a little longer ketsl.”

“Phil please!” You shout, and then he’s growling dark in your ear, and your bodies are in perfect harmony when they rise up up up in pleasure, blood pounding in your ears, bodies on fire and singing songs of lust and love.

“Okayokayokay now, fuck!” He shouts as his hips come to a halting stop.

You give yourselves over to the blissful release of orgasm, jolting against one another, trembling and shivering and gasping for breaths that you steal from each other’s mouths. He comes in you so much that you swear you can taste the salty tang of it on your tongue, you can feel it spreading through you, filling all the empty spaces in your bones, filling you with his love.

It takes a long time to come back down to earth, but when you do, you sigh and laugh and moan out just from the sheer feeling of him still being inside you. He’ll pull out in a minute, you know, but the two of you go crashing down onto your sides, too tired to support your bodies anymore.

In the quiet of the aftermath, as pleasure skims over your skin and makes the hair on your arms stand up, he smooths his hand over your calves, lightly plucks at the straps of your garter. You smile lazily dreamily blissfully at him, both your heads on one pillow, noses so close together that they’re rubbing.

“Happy birthday, Mr. Detective.” You whisper, voice wrecked from all the moaning.

“Oy, do you have to remind me?” He grumbles softly, before licking his lips and claiming a chaste kiss, another, another, another.

“Yup. You know why?” You mumble against his lips as your arms weakly find their way around his shoulders. His cock throbs inside you still, and you know that you’ll probably be in for another round in twenty minutes or so, but the thought is thrilling. Everything about being with Flip is thrilling, has you over the moon.

“Tell me baby.” He kisses you, only ever wanting to spend his time kissing you.

“Another year of loving and fucking you is alright in my book.” You say sincerely, softly, looking at him with nothing but adoration and finding it reflected in his handsome gaze, “More than alright, in fact.”

He blushes at that, because he always gets real sentimental when he thinks about how lucky he is to have you, how wholly and completely he loves you. He blushes but it’s too dark in the bedroom, only the slowly dripping wax candles setting a soft glow. The record has completely faded out into nothingness, the only noise out in the Colorado mountains is of the crickets and steady inhale exhale of your breathing,

“Well when you put it that way.” He says, making you chuckle, making you just tuck yourself as close as possible to him, kissing him until your lips swell up from being so bitten, until your bodies start to respond to the closeness of one another.

Because even though he has a lot of hangups about his birthday, even though he turns into a major grouch, even though he wishes he wouldn’t get so old, even though even though even though, he thinks that if he gets another year with you, well.

That ain’t too bad.

                                               ------------------

Tagging some pals :)  @kyloxfem @heldcaptivebychaos  @solotriplets @formerly-anonhamster @lookinsidemyhead @candycanes19 @adamsnacc-kler  @whiskey-bumblebee @magikevalynn @tinyplanet-explorers @chelsjnov @romancedeldiablo @helloimindelaware @elfieboxcat @laurenshit @autumnlovesadam @peterisparker  @goodboybensolo  @the-marvelatic @miasera @emily-strange @proxyfoxy​ @disaster-rose​ @hazydespair​ @yosoymuyloca​ @1-800-choke-that-snoke​ @ktellmeastory​ @anongirl007​ @zimmerxman​ @okk--maaan​ @flapjacques​ @aweirdlookingtree​ @callmemania-pls​ @theold-ultraviolence​ @og-selene​ @pinkmoontribe-blog​

[fandomfic-galore]

Interview

Summary: Your long time friend Bucky helps you with a job interview at Starks industries. 

Warnings;  smut, p in v, fluff, 

A/N all mistakes are mine.

Sitting at the table, you looked outside the window watching the world go by. It was one of your favourites past times, watching the world go by as you sat in silence, contemplating what was going on in peoples lives. 

Your hands were being warmed up the cup in front of you, you had forgotten your gloves today and you were freezing down to the bone. New York in winter was icy and bitter. You knew better but you were in such a rush you had to leave your hotel room quickly. 

You had arrived back to New York after your friend Bucky had said about an interview for a job with Tony Stark. When he said it on the phone, your heart stopped and your breathing hitched in your chest.

‘Y/N? Y/N?....what’s wrong you have met  Tony before.” Bucky laughed down the phone to you. 

“Yes I have but...I have never worked for him, Buck. This could be life-changing.” 

And it was life-changing, you had arrived three days ago, your first interview happened the day after and tomorrow you were called back for a second interview. Your brain was fuzzy, you never thought you would be here, having a second interview for Stark industries, head of accounting position. But here you were sat in New York, waiting for your friend to tell him the good news. 

You had known Bucky for a few years, your former best friend used to date him. But that stopped when you both walked in his girlfriend and your boyfriend at the time spread-eagled on your bed. You soon moved after finding both of them in that position, the memories became too much to handle. However, always kept in touch, going through the exact same thing probably helped you both when you spoke to each other. 

Bucky was a little intimidating at first, being a super solider he gave off a vibe that he didn’t want to socialise with anyone, so you stayed away. But, the more time you spent with each other, the more you realised that he was just shy and worried no one would see him for who he truly is. 

Jumping out of your skin as a pair of hands resting on your shoulders, you wanted to turn around and slap the person, but you knew it wouldn’t even make him flinch. 

“Where’s mine?” he asked, pointing at the cup. 

You laughed slightly and pointed towards the counter as you brought the cup of warm coffee to your lips. Bucky rolled his eyes and walked over to get his order. 

Watching him, you had to admit to yourself, Bucky was...amazing. He was handsome, tall, strong, kind, loving. Everything you wanted in a partner, but why was it so hard to tell him that? 

Walking back in your direction, he winked at you. It sent shivers down your spine, as you gazed upon the way he carried himself. Licking your lips you started to think of all the things you wanted to do that man. 

“Y/N? You still with me?” 

Shaking your head your attention was brought back to the room. 

“Yeah, sorry I’m just nervous about tomorrow that’s all?” That was a lie. You tried to hide your face so he couldn’t tell. 

‘Yeah sure,” he said plainly, you lie must have not worked. “How about we finish these and go back to your hotel, get some more prepping down for tomorrow?” Bucky questioned, you simply nodded and returned to your drink. 

-

Arriving back at the hotel, you tripped up on your feet as you nervously made your way to the paperwork you had organised for tomorrow. You couldn’t say why Bucky was making you nervous all of sudden, he had been in your room when you lived here before, why was it bothering you now? 

“Ok so looking at this you did a lot of research on the company, but you need more on Tony,” Bucky grabbed the paperwork from the desk faster than you could say Mississippi. His super strength and speed did you annoy you sometimes. 

“But I know a lot about him already,” 

“Yes, but he would want to know that you know more, trust me, the man loves talking about himself,” Bucky said as he placed himself on the bed, bringing his feet on top of the covers and made himself comfy. 

“Come here,” he tapped the side of the bed next to him. 

You started to shake lightly, your feeling for Bucky had grown over the years you knew that but now, right this second, something was stopping you. 

“Come on, we don’t have all day,” he chimed. 

Laughing you grabbed your laptop and headed to the bed. Sitting upright and crossed-legged you waited for the machine on your lap to start up. 

“Ok, so what kind of things do I need to know?” You questioned him. 

Focusing on your laptop, you felt the weight next to you on the bed shift, Bucky was close, really close. His hot breath was on your neck, making each hair stand up. You wanted to turn your head, you wanted to kiss him so badly. 

“Literally, everything,” he said softly. 

It sent shivers down your spine. You hesitated for a split second, but you turned your head. Bucky was now only inches away from you. You licked your lips and noticed Bucky watch you. His eyes gazed upon your actions, he slowly brought his gaze to your eyes and he bit his bottom lip. 

If you weren’t horny before, he was making a god damn sure you are now. 

“Buck,” you whined. He hummed in response.  “I…I” 

He leant forward hardly noticeable as he was a few inches away from you. He tilted his head and you closed your eyes. Bucky’s lips brushed against yours, the feeling sent shock waves over your entire body. You reached up and grabbed him by the hair. Pulling ever so slightly, which earned you a moan form Bucky.  

Using his strength he leaned into more, with the laptop still on you, it made it difficult for him to get on top of you. Breaking the kiss you both laughed as Bucky lifted the laptop and placed it on the floor. 

“Now where was I,” he beamed, “Oh yes” 

He brushed his nose against yours and started to kiss and bite your neck. Your legs were either side of his hips but you wrapped your ankles together securing him in place. Buck ground into you and you could feel his ever-growing erection against your clothed heat. 

“Buck, please” 

“I love it when you beg,’ he grounded into you more, making the heat between your legs grow. You started to thrust your hips up as you needed more from the man above you. Bucky stopped kissing your neck and sat back on his heels, lifting his shirt you were memorised by his body. Every scar, ab, his metal arm, you were taking it all in slowly. 

His hands moved to your shirt as you lifted your torso, bringing up your shirt and over your head, you saw Bucky lick his lips as he peeked at your breasts. His hands immediately started to fondle your breasts through your bar. He managed to tweak each nipple, earning a grunt from yourself. 

“Please Buck, I need more” you pleaded with him. 

“Tell me exactly what you need?” his velvet voice echoed throughout the room. 

“I need you inside of me, I need you to fill me up and just...fuck me” blurting out the last few words Buckys eyes grew wide, his pupils growing bigger and darker as lust took over his body. 

He looked down at you, “How attached are you to your clothes,’ he enquired. 

“I’m not wh..” Without missing a heartbeat your pants and panties had been ripped away from your body and thrown on the floor. He grabbed the middle of your bra and tore it off you. 

Looking down at your now naked body, you were stunned but amazed at what just happened. You must have been laid there for a while because when you looked back at Buck he was now at the edge of the bed completely naked. 

He moved on top of you again, grinning like the cat who got the cream. One hand went to your heat as he felt between your folds, gliding his digits up. The slick from your arousal clear as he brought his fingers to his mouth and licked them clean. 

“I don’t think we need foreplay this time babes’ Bucky laughed, you nodded in agreement feeling a tad bit ashamed of how quickly this had happened. 

Bucky lined himself up at your entrance, you wiggled your hips getting inpatient. He entered you slowly. Both of you gasped at the new sensation. His thickness made you burn slightly but you did not care at this point. 

Bucky stilled himself as he waited for you to adjust to him, wiggling your hips again he got the message and pulled out. Nearly all the way, but with all his might he thrust into you. 

He filled you in the best possible way, his hands came to the top of your head as he caged you under him. Thrusting in and out of you, you reached for his back, bringing him closer to you. Digging your nails into his flesh, Bucky groaned and thrust into you a lot harder. 

His cock was brushing up against your g-spot over and over again. You wanted this to last longer but Buckys speed increased the more pressure you applied to his back. Scratching him down along his spine, he bit your earlobe, hard. 

You could feel your pleasure rising as your toes started to curl. 

“Bucky, I’m close” He looked down at you and increased his speed. 

Now hitting your cervix and brushing against your g-spot you had started to become overwhelmed with the feelings. Your hips matched Bucky thrusting, his public bone rubbed against your clit. You could feel your pleasure increasing even more. The coil at the bottom of your stomach snapped. 

Listing your torso and grinding your hips against Bucky’s, you screamed his name. Tightening your muscles around his thick, hard cock. He kept thrusting into you to help you ride out your orgasm.  

Bucky was not far behind, his jaw clenched and he screwed his eyes shut. You felt the warm liquid spill into you. 

Both of you laid there for a moment, catching your breaths. Your best friend was still inside of you, laid on top of you, breathing down your neck and you had to admit to yourself, You wouldn’t have it any other way.

Taglist 

Marvel: @youclickedthislink @oneoftheprettynerds @tom-hlover @cap-n-ce @queenoftheunderdark @jeremyrennermakesmesmile

Everything: @xoxabs88xox​

[carewyncromwell]

Next Cinderella AU part ahoy!

Conical hats were actually considered very fashionable during the Middle Ages and the early Renaissance. What’s fascinating, however, is how they evolved into two very distinct and oddly opposing styles of hat: the stereotypical “Pilgrim” hat and the pointed hat that witches are generally depicted wearing! Around the turn of the 17th century, the most stylish variation of black conical hat was called the capotain, which is a cone, but with a rounded top -- the hat McGonagall wears in that top sketch is one of these types of hats (her dress is based on this design, which also features a shorter version of the capotain). The hats were originally fashionable among both men and women, but over time, one group of women that was most associated with wearing them were Quakers, a branch of Christianity that broke away from the Church of England and advocated quite liberated views for the era, such as the abolition of slavery, women’s rights, and a refusal to involve themselves in war. They also passionately believed that one didn’t have to attend church in order to be close to God and that one could practice one’s faith out in the world by living and dressing modestly and being active in charity work. (To learn more about the history of how the conical hat evolved into our modern image of “the witch hat,” check out this awesome fashion history video on the subject.) As one can expect, Quakers and Quaker women in particular were not well-taken-to by a lot of European society, especially by the religious movement on the opposite site of the political scale in Britain, the uber-conservative, Bible-purist Puritans. Many of these same Puritan-types got very involved in hunting witches both in Europe and in the Americas (the Salem Witch Trials are a perfect example). But yes...if one looks up pictures of historical clothing for Puritan men and/or “the Pilgrims” (A.K.A. the group of Americans that colonized Plymouth, who were Puritans), they very often wore a variation of the capotain! Although it’s been theorized by historians that the capotains worn by Quaker women ended up being associated with sin and therefore witchcraft, similar hats were also worn by the men who persecuted them. The hats were worn by both sides -- victim and accuser -- and yet most of us today look at the capotain and immediately think “witch” exclusively. Talk about irony.

Greensleeves is often ascribed as being commissioned by King Henry VIII for his second wife, Anne Boleyn (even Six the Musical references this)...but it actually was written in the later half of the 16th century, when Anne’s daughter Elizabeth I was Queen. So yeah, that’s sadly just an old wives tale. But it is a lovely song! The melody for Greensleeves has been remarkably long-lasting, even being rewritten as multiple Christmas songs over the centuries, including the still popular What Child is This?, which was written in 1865.

Previous part is here -- whole tag is here -- Katriona “KC” Cassiopeia belongs to @kc-needs-coffee -- and I hope you all enjoy!

x~x~x~x

Carewyn very quickly threw on her mother’s green-sleeved yellow dress and as many warm wool petticoats as she could before fetching her white horse from the palace stable. She rode up through the gate in exactly twenty-five minutes, to find Orion on his black mare waiting for her. Carewyn was ready to ask Orion if everything was all right, but almost as soon as they’d left the perimeter of the gate, Orion urged his horse into a fast gallop.

“Come, my lady,” he cried over his shoulder, “let us chase that horizon!”

Carewyn had to send her horse charging forward in its own gallop to catch up with him. They rode right through the market and then out of the capitol altogether -- they avoided the road that led toward the Cromwell estate, dashing eastward. They weaved in and out of the rolling snow-capped hills, riding beside and around each other. The freedom of riding alone was enough to bring some life back into Orion’s cheeks, and Carewyn despite herself soon found herself smiling.

When they came to a stop at the top of a hill close to the northern border, Orion looked out over the edge with a handsome, endless gleam in his eye, like that of a sailor looking out to sea. Carewyn once again prepared to ask Orion if he was all right...but once again, Orion dodged the question.

“Do you see that eagle, overhead?” asked Orion.

Carewyn looked up. She did -- it was a truly handsome golden eagle, gliding in a circle through the air over their heads.

“I’ve seen eagles just like that nearly every day, up and down the border,” said Orion. “Shall we see if we can ride fast enough to overtake it in flight? Could we take flight as birds do, without ever spreading wings?”

“Orion...”

Carewyn brought a hand gently down on his arm.

“I know there’s something wrong,” she whispered.

Orion looked at her, his expression losing most of its levity and becoming much blanker and more inscrutable again.

“I understand if you can’t tell me,” she insisted softly. Her blue eyes rested on her own hand on his arm rather than his face -- with the intense concern she felt, she didn’t dare expose them further by looking straight into his eyes. “And I truly don’t want you to feel like you have to tell me anything you don’t want to. Your secrets are your own, and I know you have a reason for them.”

Just as I have mine.

“I only...I can tell you’re running from something...maybe even the thing you’ve being running from, every time you’ve come to see me, all these weeks...and I don’t know what to do, to protect you from what you’re so afraid of. Please...tell me what I can do.”

Orion’s black eyes trailed over Carewyn’s face, rippling with many tiny flickers of emotion that were hard to properly identify -- pain? Affection? Anxiety? Evasiveness? Shame? Longing? Who knew?

At last the Prince of Florence brought a hand out to gingerly rest on top of Carewyn’s on his arm.

“Chase that eagle with me,” he said softly.

Carewyn looked up at Orion and then at the eagle overhead as it soared off toward the nearby woods. Then she gave him a small, sad smile and nodded.

“...All right.”

Dislodging herself from Orion, Carewyn steadied her grip on her horse’s reins and flicked them to make it gallop toward the woods.

“Well, come on, then!” she called over her shoulder with the strongest smile she could. “T’would be a shame if I out-rode you in a challenge you set yourself!”

Orion’s face broke out into a brighter, fond smile and he pursued her.

The two rode their horses down the hill and into the trees. Racing side by side, overtaking each other in their strides and then catching up again -- all while Orion smiled so fully and handsomely, and looked at her with such blazing midnight-black eyes -- was a joy that Carewyn had trouble putting into proper words. His expression was full of such silent, and yet unbridled joy -- free, in every sense of the word.

“You should be allowed to feel like that more often,” Orion’s words returned to her. “Free.”

You should be allowed to feel like that too, Orion, thought Carewyn. You deserve to feel this free all the time.

The two rode with speed until they’d finally lost sight of the beautiful golden eagle. Slowing their horses into a calmer trot, they then journeyed through the trees, enjoying the peaceful serenity of the chirping birds and the pools of sunlight scattered across the muddy, snow-dusted ground.

“I’ve never been out this far before,” Carewyn confessed, her almond-shaped blue eyes trailing over the interlaced branches overhead.

Orion looked at her out the side of his eye. “...This close to the border, you mean?”

“Yes.”

Carewyn caught a strange scent in the distance -- something vaguely like the fires she’d tend to back at the castle and the Cromwell estate.

“...Something’s burning...”

Orion nodded solemnly. “Bonfires. The Royaumanian and Florentine camps aren’t far from here.”

Carewyn looked at Orion, slightly startled. His gaze had wandered northward, but it was clear his mind was far from the trees his eyes were idly resting on.

“We’re near the war front?” asked Carewyn softly.

“Yes...” Orion glanced her out the side of his eye. “...Are you frightened?”

“No,” said Carewyn.

She looked through the trees in the direction Orion had been facing.

Jacob could be over there right now, she thought to herself. The idea of seeing her brother for the first time in nine years -- of hugging him again and seeing his relieved smile -- it made her feel like her heart was being squeezed.

Orion’s black eyes scanned her longing, but fearless face, before shifting back in the direction of the trees that obscured the path toward the war front.

“The scales are going to shift again, soon,” he whispered. He could feel Carewyn’s eyes on him again. “The two sides have constantly fought for dominance...lashing out ruthlessly and then retaliating, back and forth, until they’re forced to come to a stalemate, just to catch their breath. Then one lashes out again, and the precarious balance is thrown to the winds once more...”

Carewyn’s blue eyes rippled with concern. “Orion...is something bad about to happen, out there?”

Orion closed his eyes. His father claimed he needed him, in order to lead the Florentine army in the two-pronged attack on Royaume...but it wasn’t unlikely that the King might make do and find someone else to fill that role...

“Hopefully not,” he said softly.

Carewyn reached out a hand and took hold of Orion’s wrist. Orion looked down at her hand and then up at her face -- she had trouble looking at him, but he could tell her eyes were rippling with concern. His heart felt like it was suddenly being harshly compressed, just to fit inside of his chest.

You wish to protect me from what I fear...but what I fear, I should wish to protect you from.

The King’s words returned to his mind.

“When you make mistakes, the people you cherish, that you want most desperately to protect, pay the price!”

But how could he hope to protect Carewyn from the War and the cost it would demand? How could he hope to stop it, when his own father unknowingly would be sabotaging his efforts for peace? How could he live with himself, if he had to chain himself to the War the way the King had -- to fight against the Royaumanians he’d met and broken bread with as equals?

Orion took several deep breaths before speaking again.

“...My father wishes me to join him, at the front,” he admitted lowly.

Carewyn looked up, startled. “...Your father’s in the army?”

“Yes,” said Orion. “He’s...a high-ranking officer. He expects that I will follow his example and lead our ranks into battle.”

Carewyn considered Orion for a moment. “...You don’t want to.”

Orion’s eyes darkened significantly. “...I don’t want to.”

When Carewyn didn’t respond, he pressed on.

“My father believes that the War can only be ended through force -- that justice can be only brought about by utterly destroying our enemy. But...I cannot believe that. I grew up on the border between Florence and Royaume. The town I’m from is so close that one could hop easily from one to the other. It caused some tensions, yes...but it also made it so that at first meeting, or even third or fourth, you never knew what side of the divide a person was on. And so I found myself constantly thinking...what is it that truly separates us? Is it morality? Is it values? Humanity? And yet I don’t think either side can boast having any of those things exclusively. It instead all comes back to a mistake made fifty years ago -- a land dispute that ended more violently than it should have. So many people have died, all because of that...and because neither King has decided to be the better man and choose forgiveness over vengeance.”

Orion bowed his head, his eyes closing solemnly.

“...My father asked me to help him lead the army, in an upcoming attack on the enemy forces -- one that he believes could end the War once and for all. But...”

He exhaled quietly through his nose.

“...I couldn’t accept that burden...so I left.”

Carewyn didn’t respond. Orion scanned her face, trying to read her reaction, but it was proving difficult when she wouldn’t look at him.

Does she...disapprove? he couldn’t help but think. She did think he was Royaumanian -- she didn’t understand that he wanted to protect her brother, not prevent him from returning home...but how could he explain that to her, without...?

“I know that the War could end, if my father’s strategy succeeds,” Orion explained, trying to keep his voice level despite the anxiety he felt, “but this is only one strategy of hundreds, all of which have failed. And even if our side was victorious...however many lives I could potentially save by fighting, I would be snuffing out far more. I realize that this is my responsibility alone, and sometimes one must be willing to do what others will not, to reach their goal...but flowers bloom under sunlight and water, not blood. If we could avoid burning a forest to the ground, wouldn’t it then be easier to bring it back to life?”

“Yes...but if someone wants to set a forest ablaze, you have to act if you want to stop them.”

Carewyn’s response was very soft and solemn, but there was no anger or disapproval -- instead, to Orion’s immense relief, it sounded almost encouraging.

“If you believe that Royaume could make peace with Florence, then you need to speak out for it,” she said firmly. “If you see it and believe in it, that’s great...but you need to make others see and believe in it too, if it’s going to really come about. Talk to your father, make him see things as you do -- and if he isn’t able to, then...well, I’ll talk to Andre, and you and he can discuss it together.”

Her lips spread into a gentle smile and she gave his wrist a light squeeze.

“My own family may have profited because of the War, but the people of Royaume, the common man, would celebrate, if peace could come about without further loss. If Florence would also, then that’s a step in the right direction. There’s more than one way to fight for something...all it requires is enough courage to place one’s goal over whatever risks stand in their way.”

Orion stared at Carewyn for a long moment. As he did, the black of his eyes seemed to melt, gaining a warmer, softer light that resembled candlelight rippling in endless, dark water.

“...Carewyn...”

Before he could say anything more, however, there was a loud explosion in the distance. Carewyn’s horse reared back in terror, which in turn spooked Orion’s, and both Carewyn and Orion had to quickly calm their steeds.

“Whoa, whoa,” Carewyn whispered in her horse’s ear, “easy, boy...it’s all right...”

Orion stroked his horse’s mane with a slightly trembling hand, breathing in and out as he tried to steady his heart rate. He then looked at Carewyn with a more serious eye.

“...Perhaps we should make our way back to the valley. It’s not safe here.”

Carewyn looked northward through the trees again. “Do you think your father’s started the attack?”

“No. Coordinated attacks require both strategy and assignments, as well as the element of surprise. I’d say this is a skirmish between younger, less experienced soldiers -- and if so, it’s likely to run farther afield and cause damage outside the designated battlefield.”

Orion could see Carewyn still hesitating. Although there was no fear in her face, she seemed reluctant to leave -- likely thinking of her brother, more than the risk to her own safety...

After a brief flicker of uncertainty, Orion reached out a hand and took hold of Carewyn’s arm not unlike how she’d taken his earlier.

“From everything I’ve heard from you about your brother, I truly cannot see him not doing everything he possibly can, to look out for your well-being...including looking after himself.”

A second smaller explosion in the distance made Orion stiffen slightly, his fingers tightening that bit around Carewyn’s arm.

“...We should move out of harm’s way,” he said as levelly as he could.

Seeing the paleness of Orion’s face, Carewyn relented at once.

“Yes.”

Bringing a hand up onto Orion’s horse’s reins, she directed both of them around so they could start riding back out the way they came.

As they came around a cluster of trees, however, their attention was caught by the sound of the cry of an eagle and many snapping branches. Carewyn’s horse reared back again, just barely dodging a large clump of golden-brown feathers that collided sharply with the ground.

Carewyn once again rushed to soothe her horse. Orion quickly climbed off his horse and bent down to get a better look at what had fallen.

It was a golden eagle, just as brilliant as the one they’d chased into the wood -- perhaps even the same one. It was conscious, but clearly in pain when it tried to return to the air -- its left wing crumpled up against its side and covered in blood and what looked like grayish ash.

Orion’s black eyes narrowed.

“Gunpowder,” he said. “The poor creature’s wing must have been struck by a stray bullet.”

Once she’d successfully soothed her white horse, Carewyn likewise jumped off its back. She dashed over to Orion, hitching up the skirt of her mother’s gown as she went.

“Can you hold him?” she asked.

The eagle gave an angry-sounding cry, baring its sharp talons at both of them, and it tried to hobble away back into the air with its one good wing.

“I don’t think he wants our help,” said Orion.

Undaunted, Carewyn ripped off some fabric from her outer-most petticoat. “Well, he needs it, whether he wants it or not. Can you hold him, please?”

Orion looked at the eagle. Rather than try to grab it, he met the eagle’s eyes and tried not to blink. The eagle looked back at him with a piercing gaze. When Orion extended a hand, the eagle lashed out its talons again -- Orion withdrew, but didn’t flinch.

“Steady,” he said gently.

He waited a moment, keeping eye contact with the bird, and then tried again. This time he was able to move close enough to touch before the eagle lashed out with its claws again.

“Peace,” said Orion patiently. “We mean you no harm, feathered friend.”

Another loud explosion in the distance made both the eagle and Orion flinch.

“That one sounded closer,” said Carewyn, her voice faintly tense but as gentle as she could. “We need to be quick.”

The flames of his childhood home were returning to Orion’s mind despite his best efforts, and he shut them out as best he could, closing his eyes and breathing in and out several times. Once he’d reestablished his focus, Orion opened his eyes again.

The eagle looked from Orion to Carewyn almost critically. Finally, after Orion reached in for a third time, it let the Prince run a gentle hand over its back. Once the bird was calm, Orion then carefully extended its wing so that Carewyn could reach it.

“This will likely hurt him a little,” Carewyn told Orion. “Please hold him still, so he won’t fly away.”

Orion brought a hand around the eagle, which fidgeted and cried out indignantly, but did not claw or snap at them. With Orion holding out its wing, Carewyn was able to reach into its blood-soaked feathers and dislodge the bullet. The eagle gave an angry, pained cry, and Carewyn very quickly set about wrapping up the wound with the white fabric she’d ripped out of her petticoat.

“There,” breathed Carewyn, her red lips spreading into a smile. “That should help...”

The bird looked down at its wing, gingerly folding up against its side as it surveyed her with a very beady eye. With a soft click of her tongue against her teeth, she slowly extended an arm out, holding it very still like a branch.

“Climb on,” she cooed. “That’s it...”

The eagle peered Carewyn over, but after a long moment, it gradually scooted over and leapt up onto her arm. Its talons dug into the sleeve of her dress with strength, and it was heavier than Carewyn expected, but she with some difficulty just barely managed to hoist it up.

“Your talent with animals shines through again,” said Orion with a wry smile, clasping his hands lightly in front of him.

“You weren’t half bad yourself,” Carewyn said amusedly. She brought a hand gently along the eagle’s comb. “You’re a very handsome bird, aren’t you? You poor thing...”

“You there!”

Both Orion and Carewyn looked up in great surprise.

Striding through the woods toward them was a very tall middle-aged woman. She wore a black capotain hat and an old-fashioned black dress with a white ruff around the collar, and her graying brown hair was tied up in an austere looking bun under her hat. Despite her apparent age, her step was strong and her posture as straight as a general’s. 

“What are you doing here?” said the woman very sternly.

Carewyn stood a bit uneasily, thanks to the weight of the eagle on her arm, but she nonetheless straightened up, resting a hand on the eagle’s back almost protectively.

“We’re merely out riding, madam,” she said, not impolitely, but still confidently.

The woman peered down at both Orion and Carewyn with an eye almost as critical as the eagle’s had been as she crossed her arms. Her height made it so she towered over both of them with relative ease.

“Well, through your riding, you have trespassed on my land,” she said stiffly. “And it seems you’ve claimed something of mine.”

Her eyes flickered over to the eagle on Carewyn’s arm, taking in the makeshift bandage on its wing. The golden eagle gave a loud shriek -- the woman extended her arm, and it leapt the distance, landing on her arm instead. The older woman did not struggle to hold it up the way Carewyn had.

Carewyn blinked in surprise. “Then...he’s yours?”

“Do you have others, like him?” Orion asked curiously.

The woman peered down at the bird on her arm with a look that was rather like a scolding, but still affectionate mother’s. “No -- he’s one of a kind. All the more reason why I’m pleased to see him safe, after coming so close to the enemy camp.”

The eagle bowed its head, its gaze flickering back over toward Carewyn and Orion. When another cluster of explosions rang out through the air, however, both the bird and Orion straightened up abruptly.

The woman looked northward, and then beckoned Carewyn and Orion after her with her hand.

“Come with me -- with the armies positioned just north of us and a band of Florentine bandits just south, the safest place at present to wait out this skirmish is my home.”

The woman introduced herself as the Baroness Minerva McGonagall. Carewyn felt like the surname was familiar somehow, but she couldn’t quite place it in her memory. Regardless, McGonagall led Carewyn and Orion out through the trees. Only once they crossed the perimeter of the trees and McGonagall gestured toward the valley below did Carewyn and Orion see her country estate. It was odd that they didn’t spot it sooner, for although the valley seemed to cradle the small chateau, it was a rather beautiful and open estate framed by a wrought iron gate. The property itself was made of aged brick and stone with stained glass windows and overgrown with ice-trimmed ivy.

After holding out her arm so that the eagle perched there could jump down on the railing beside the stone stairs that led up to the front door, the Baroness invited Orion and Carewyn inside. As stern as she’d first appeared, she actually was a very kind host -- after Orion and Carewyn’s horses were settled in her stable, she escorted the two into the dining hall, where she served them some rose water and ginger biscuits. Once inside the house, none of them could hear the explosions from the battlefield -- it was as though the walls cancelled out all sounds from outside even though they must’ve been so close.

Seeing that the Baroness had no servants to help her, Carewyn insisted on taking the dishes to the kitchen and washing them, so as to thank the older woman for her hospitality. Despite being reluctant to accept the help at first, McGonagall eventually accepted it, her lips upturned in a rather dewy smile as Carewyn left the dining hall.

“Your riding companion has a very kind heart, Your Highness,” she said, once Carewyn was out of earshot.

Orion’s black eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly.

“...You know me.”

"Naturally,” said McGonagall. “You do very much resemble your grandfather -- and your father as well, I expect.”

“You knew my grandfather?”

“We met once, a very long time ago,” said McGonagall rather curtly. “Your name would also be Cosimo, correct?”

“I am called Orion,” said the Prince, his level voice dusted with the slightest edge. “By both my lady, and otherwise.”

McGonagall’s eyes grew a little smaller. “She comes from the Cromwell family, doesn’t she?”

Orion’s eyes narrowed that little bit more, but he did not reply.

“I suspected it due to her eyes,” said McGonagall, “but with how gentle they were, I wasn’t sure.”

Her eyebrows rose over her narrowed eyes as she leaned forward slightly and rested her elbows on the table.

“You have quite a predicament before you, Orion,” she said dryly, interlacing her fingers beside her chin.

Orion clasped his hands on the table in front of him, considering the Baroness carefully.

“Yet you decided not to approach me about it until Carewyn left the room,” he said levelly. “Is it because you suspected I knew your true identity, and why your house has been so miraculously shielded from the War raging on your doorstep?”

McGonagall peered at Orion over her hands with something like wry amusement. “Florentines are generally more favorable toward magic than Royaumanians. And considering your grandfather shielded my family after my mother accidentally killed the King and we fled across the border...well, it would be in-character for you, especially.”

“And yet you returned to the land that the King of Royaume had died trying to claim?” asked Orion. “Why?”

McGonagall gave a dismissive shrug. “It was our home. Even if we had to cast and recast illusions every day to prevent anyone else from finding it again, that was a cost we were willing to pay. And one I’m still willing to pay today, to protect those who live here.”

McGonagall’s eyes were drawn to the hallway -- a young man with tanned skin and a sharp nose had just paused in the door frame of the dining hall. His arm was in a makeshift sling and wrapped with what looked like bandages made out of petticoat fabric. When Orion turned around, the young man stared him down with just as beady of a look as the golden eagle from before had.

“The skirmish has ended, Baroness,” the man said brusquely.

“I hope you haven’t determined that by casting any more transfiguration spells, my young apprentice,” said McGonagall with a slightly reproachful look.

The apprentice’s nose wrinkled sourly. “No. The explosions have just stopped -- they probably decided it wasn’t worth trying to fire their cannons blindly in the dark.”

“Very well,” said McGonagall. “Orion, you and Carewyn may leave when you wish. Though I would recommend you steer clear of the border. The bandits in these woods are Florentines, so I doubt they will harm you...but I cannot be sure how they would respond to a Royaumanian, especially one related to one of their wealthiest noblemen.”

Orion nodded. “I understand.”

“Make sure you bring her back to the palace safely,” said the apprentice, his eagle-like eyes still rather critical upon Orion. “It’s the least you can do, considering she doesn’t know the extent of the risk she’s taking, interacting with you.”

He swept down the hallway and out of sight, still holding his arm. Orion was a bit surprised that the Baroness’s apprentice knew where Carewyn worked -- but then, he recalled, he’d seen an eagle flying over his and Carewyn’s heads once, while they were walking through the market together, hadn’t he? Might it have been this man then, as well -- as it likely had, every time he’d seen an eagle while crossing the border?

McGonagall looked back at Orion, her expression a bit more solemn. “I understand your rationale behind not telling her of your identity, Orion...but remember -- deception is just like any magical spell. Even the most powerful ones in the world don’t last long.”

Orion bowed his head. “...I know.”

He knew none of this could last. He knew that once Carewyn knew who he was, everything between them would change, whether he wanted it to or not. He did think that Carewyn would understand -- he desperately hoped so -- but even so, it was sad to him, knowing that his happy times with Carewyn were doomed to be so fleeting...

“I just...want to enjoy my time with her as long as I can,” said Orion softly. “However fleeting it might be...even when it is over...at least then I can cherish the memory of those moments forever.”

McGonagall’s face grew a bit gentler, almost sympathetic. "I see...”

Carewyn returned at that moment, wiping her bangs out of her eyes with her arm.

“Orion,” she said, “it looks like the stars have come out.”

Orion looked out the window. The sky was dark with night and shining with stars.

“So they have,” he said with a soft smile. He turned to McGonagall. “Forgive me, Baroness...but might we sit in the valley outside your home for a short while, before we leave?”

McGonagall smiled. “Of course.”

Orion and Carewyn found a grassy spot in the crest of the valley where they could sit and look up at the stars. Upon learning that Carewyn hadn’t ever gone stargazing before, Orion lay back against the grass and pointed out each constellation above them to Carewyn in turn -- the hero Perseus, his enemy the Cetus, and his future wife Andromeda -- -- the divine twins, Castor and Pollux, otherwise known as a pair as Gemini -- and the queen Cassiopeia, which made Carewyn laugh, thinking of her friend, KC. Carewyn loved listening to Orion’s stories: the way he would vividly embellish every detail and go off on philosophical tangents in the middle was oddly endearing. After he told his first tale about Perseus, Carewyn was reminded of the Song of Roland, an epic about a similarly grand hero, and soon Orion would ask her to sing something in response to every story he told, however weak the connection was. When they reached Cassiopeia’s tale, Carewyn sang one of her favorite songs, Greensleeves.

“I have been ready at your hand To grant whatever thou would’st crave; I have waged both life and land, Your love and goodwill for to have.

Greensleeves was all my joy; Greensleeves was my delight; Greensleeves was my heart of gold, And who but my lady Greensleeves...”

As before, Orion found himself closing his eyes and relishing the feeling of Carewyn’s voice washing over him. At the end of this song in particular, however, when he opened his eyes, he found himself chuckling softly.

Carewyn raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Orion’s black eyes were sparkling like two miniature night skies as they ran over Carewyn sitting just below him. “It’s a lovely song, as always...but I have not ever seen my ‘star twin,’ so to speak, wearing green -- only ever black and blue. You, however...”

He took her hand so that he could extend her arm out like they were dancing, showing off the olive green sleeves of her dress.

“So it seems you are ‘my lady Greensleeves,’” said Orion with a wry smile.

“Oh, stop it,” Carewyn huffed, her cheeks burning as she withdrew her hand.

Orion laughed fully. It was the first time Carewyn had ever heard him laugh so openly before -- it was a soft sound in the back of his throat, like a chuckle, and yet so much brighter and warmer. Despite herself, Carewyn couldn’t fight back a full smile of her own. Her shoulder brushed up against Orion’s as she reclined back onto the grass, her body tilting slightly toward him as she looked up at the sky.

“...There’s a constellation called Orion, isn’t there?”

Orion smiled and traced the stars of the constellation with his finger. “Just there. Do you see his chest? And there’s his bow.”

“I see it!” said Carewyn excitedly. “His arm is arched back, right?”

“Yes -- he’s holding a club in his other hand. He was a great hunter, you see -- the greatest hunter, they say, aside from Artemis, Goddess of the Moon and the Hunt. Some say that he hunted alongside her. Others say she was his one and only love...and that she, likewise, never loved any other man, in all her days.”

When Carewyn didn’t respond, Orion looked down at her. She was considering the constellation very carefully, looking oddly deep in thought.

Orion tilted his head to look better at her face. “Your eyes resemble a dark pool.”

Carewyn looked up, startled.

“They’re so deep and mysterious, I hardly know what is within them,” said Orion. “Yet I would dearly like to know, if you were willing to share their contents.”

Carewyn’s eyes drifted back up to the sky uncomfortably.

“It’s just...I’m realizing that I don’t even know if Orion is your real name,” she murmured. “You said I could call you it...you did not say it was your name.”

Orion’s face became grimmer. His hands clasped over his chest and he too looked back up at the sky.

“...It’s not the name I was born with,” he admitted. “I chose the name myself, when I was young.”

The memory of the older boys at the workhouse shoving him, piling extra work on him, and mockingly bowing whenever he walked by rippled over his mind.

“Clear the floor for the Prince!”

“Why thank you, Prince Cosimo -- you’re too kind!”

“Does the mud add flavor, your Royal Highness?”

“When I was at the workhouse, my name...antagonized the other boys. So, to try to preempt the reactions, I started avoiding telling anyone my name. I would dread anyone ever asking.”

“Like when I asked you?” whispered Carewyn. Even though her eyes were averted, she was clearly very ashamed and upset.

Orion leaned against her slightly, offering her a gentle, reassuring expression. “No, Carewyn. I dreaded it when I had no answer I could give at all. It made me anxious...made me feel like I didn’t know who I was supposed to be...made it difficult for me to interact with much of anyone at all.”

He closed his eyes.

“But...after hearing the tale of the great hunter whose skill put him on the same level as a goddess...I decided that was who I’d be. I’d chase my dreams with just as much single-minded focus -- be just as free and strong of a man, by fighting the monster inside of myself.”

Carewyn looked up at Orion, her eyes rippling with sadness. “The monster inside of yourself?”

“Mm,” said Orion. “Mine is a frenetic beast. It makes it hard for me to think, act, or even breathe, when it’s particularly intense. It makes me question absolutely everything, including myself. It shouts so many things in my ears so loudly that I can’t move or react properly, and I have to break away from everything and everyone, just to silence it. Sometimes it even brings back bad memories that make the experience even worse.”

Carewyn was once again avoiding his eye, but it was largely because she was having trouble keeping her face stoic.

“...It’s terrible, when you feel like you can’t do anything,” she said lowly.

Orion didn’t speak. He wanted her to feel comfortable enough to continue -- after a silence, she finally pressed on.

“When Jacob first went off to War...I felt so helpless. So...alone. And worse...I felt like that’s how I should be. Like I should be alone, and empty, and cold, and in pain, when Jacob was off at War suffering, while I’m stuck here.”

Her eyes darkened.

“There are times when...I think I still should be. Sometimes...well, it’s all the time.”

She closed her eyes, exhaled heavily through her nose, and then looked up at Orion with a firmer expression.

“...But I know I can’t afford to sit around and feel sorry for myself -- not when I need to be strong, for Jacob’s sake. So I don’t.”

Orion’s black eyes softened visibly, rippling with empathy. “No...you certainly don’t.”

He paused. His eyes ran over Carewyn’s face, trailing through her hair hesitantly.

“Carewyn...” he said at last, very softly, “may I...?”

He swallowed.

“...May I rest my head, on top of yours?”

Carewyn’s face broke into a very sweet, tender smile.

“Of course,” she murmured.

Orion shifted over and, very tentatively, leaned back against the grass so that Carewyn’s head rested in the crook of his neck and his cheek rested against the top of her head. He closed his eyes -- she felt so warm...

“I...realize that the beasts inside of us are ours alone to face,” said Orion softly, “but...should you need a hunter to help you beat yours back...I will be here.”

Carewyn’s blue eyes rippled with emotion as she stared up at Orion’s face. Her red lips slowly turned up in a smile that was full of pain, and yet also fuller still of love.

“And I will always help you fight yours,” she whispered. “If you need me...I will fight for you.”

Orion’s expression cleared, losing all tension as a smile pricked at the corners of his lips. He breathed deeply, his heart slowing to a wonderful peaceful beat as he took in the smell of her hair. Carewyn watched his serene, handsome face, and she found herself moving into him that bit more, just to get a better view. For that moment, it felt like the whole world outside wasn’t there -- that the War and the palace and the Cromwell clan and everything she was and wasn’t didn’t even exist...and in that moment, Carewyn realized...

If she was ever truly free, she would want to love the man called Orion with all of her heart.

[ma-sulevin]

28 from the soulmate list for Chelsea and Staci please?

28. the one where some people can see the red string of fate and follow it to their soulmates.

Chelsea grew up not caring about the red line she could see stretching to the northwest. It never moved, so her mother always told her it just meant her soulmate was too far away for them to really be able to tell. 

“Don’t pay it too much mind,” Kelli would say, repeating herself every time Chelsea mentioned it. “It ain’t the be-all-end-all everyone makes it out to be. You gotta find your own happiness.”

It’s not until Chelsea’s grown and getting married to a man that’s definitely not her soulmate that she realizes Kelli said that because she met her soulmate once and he left her alone in the morning with no last name and an accidental pregnancy (“surprise blessing”). It’s not until Chelsea has to move back in with her mother before Robbie signs the divorce papers that she thinks maybe she shouldn’t have listened.

After Kelli dies, in the middle of the spring on her way home from her shift at the hospital, just another victim of a drunk driver, Chelsea decides there’s no point ignoring it anymore. She’s twenty-fucking-eight years old. She’s been married and divorced and lost her whole family except for whoever’s on the other end of the red string.

She sells her mama’s house, sells her shitty half of a shittier duplex, packs everything she owns into her Tacoma with a trailer on the back, and just drives.

She follows the string, hits up motels and shitty diners and rest stops, following the string as it gets brighter and brighter.

It takes days, but finally, she drives into Fall’s End, Montana and she realizes... this is it.

Her soulmate has been in fucking Montana this whole goddamn time.

She parks at the first restaurant she sees and goes inside, hands in her pockets and heart in her throat.

The woman at the bar smiles and is friendly enough, though she’s not really the kind of girl Chelsea might have been friends with back home. She introduces herself as Mary May and says Chelsea can find a room at either the King’s Hot Springs Hotel across the river or the Grand View Hotel up in the mountains, and if she decides to stay, the sheriff might need extra help.

Chelsea gets a room and doesn’t sleep a wink.

She follows her string on foot in the morning because the connection feels close enough. She ends up at the Hope County Jail and almost throws up in the parking lot as her anxiety insists she’s made it this far to find her soulmate locked up in a cell.

She goes inside anyway.

She can’t not.

A woman named Nancy introduces herself and asks if Chelsea’s new in town before she asks if she needs help, and she guides her into the station’s bullpen when Chelsea asks to speak to the sheriff.

The red string gets even brighter as they walk, and Chelsea’s horrified for another few seconds that her soulmate might actually be the sheriff, but as Nancy continues deeper into the office, the red string twists to the side.

And Chelsea stops.

And she stares.

Across the bullpen, a man stares back at her. He’s her height, with dark eyes and hair, a patchy beard on his cheeks and a dumb expression on his otherwise handsome face.

A female deputy stands next to him, looking back and forth between them, and she finally elbows him hard in the ribs.

That pushes him forward, and he crosses the room with long strides until panic rises in her and she takes one step back.

He freezes and stares at her, eyebrows drawing together, as she stares back.

“How can I help you?” The sheriff’s voice makes them both jump, and they turn to look at him. He’s older, almost exactly what she would expect the sheriff of a tiny little town in the middle of Montana to look, with a big mustache and a cowboy hat. He’s smiling, but he glances between Chelsea and the other deputy with a look she can’t decipher yet.

She pulls her shit together and turns fully to face him. “I’m here about a job,” she says, and she’s proud that her voice is steady. “Just got here from Georgia and heard you might be hirin'.”

“Huh,” says the sheriff. “Come tell me about yourself, then. Get back to work, Pratt.”

Pratt, her soulmate, opens his mouth like he’s going to object, but he finally nods instead. He watches her as she follows the sheriff, and she knows he does because he’s still staring at her when she glances back as she shuts the sheriff’s door.

---

He’s not in the department when she emerges from Whitehorse’s office with a brand new job lined up for Monday morning, but she knows now it’s only a matter of time before he finds her again.

She goes back to her hotel and watches TV until she feels like she’s going to burst, then she goes and runs outside until she feels like she’s going to collapse, then it’s back to the hotel.

She should’ve talked to Pratt at the station. Having to wait again after she saw him makes he feel like she’s going to die. 

She goes back to the Spread Eagle when it’s time for dinner even though she’s sure she won’t be able to keep anything down. She tells Mary May that she met Whitehorse and she thinks the job’ll work out after all, and then she nurses a beer as she watches the red string slowly getting brighter as Pratt gets closer.

It’s like she can feel it when he gets to the bar, and she can’t stand it. She gets up and goes outside, slipping away while Mary May’s not paying attention, and catches Pratt climbing out of a jeep in the parking lot.

He hesitates when he catches her eye, but he closes the door behind him and tucks his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. He’s gone home and showered, or something, shaved the patchy beard on his face and put on a clean flannel shirt -- because of course he’s wearing a flannel shirt -- and he walks right toward her.

This time she doesn’t step back, and he keeps walking until he’s in her space, looking right into her eyes.

This close, she can tell he’s just a bit taller than her. She’d be taller if she wore heels.

“Hey.” His voice is a little raspy, and it makes her smile grow against her will.

“Hey.” She reaches out and fixes his collar, face warming as he draws in a sharp breath at the touch.

“You come all this way to find me?” He’s smirking, and she hates that she loves it.

She tucks her first two fingers between the buttons of his shirt and tugs him a step closer, and he moves forward like it’s the most natural thing in the world to be in her space. She has to draw in her own sharp breath as his hands settle on her hips, confident and warm.

“Well,” she says, voice nice and steady. “I got tired of waiting.”

She lifts her chin and drops her eyes to his lips, and he gives her what she wants without hesitation. He kisses her, lips warm and dry, and it feels a hundred times better than every kiss she’s ever gotten. It shoots through her, makes her fingers tingle, her head spin, her toes curl. She parts her lips for him and his tongue finds hers, and she lets him pull her the last half-step between them until their bodies are pressed together.

When he finally pulls away, she’s not particularly surprised to hear him say, “Can we get out of here?”

She doesn’t even want him to let her go for them to go inside, and as far as she’s concerned, he can take her anywhere right now.

Why did she believe her mom for so long? She should’ve driven up here the second she graduated high school.

“I have to pay my tab,” she says, and her voice is breathier than she’s ever heard it.

He grins at her and looks at her mouth before he kisses her one more time. “I’ll get it. Get in my car.” He releases her, and she turns to do what he says, because it feels right even when he has to turn back and grab her arm. “Wait,” he says, looking a little embarrassed. “What’s your name?”

She can’t help but laugh. “Chelsea Cooper.”

He chuckles and lets his hand slide down her arm until he can squeeze her fingers. “Chelsea.” She nods, and he adds, “Staci Pratt.”

Staci fuckin’ Pratt. “Hurry up, Stace,” she says. “I’m told you I’m tired of waiting.”

[anika-ann]

Grease and Pearls - Pt.1

Uptown Meets Downtown

Type: One-shot turned three-shot (because does anyone really want a 17k in one go?)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader (main), Tony/Reader, Tony/Pepper

Word count: 5230

Summary:  All you know is uptown; fancy clothes, expensive cars, jewellery outshining one’s personality and exhausting dinners with family acquaintances and business partners. Your life is all planned out; one day, you’ll marry Howard Stark’s son and you’ll be the golden couple adored by press.

You desperately seek to see life outside this suffocating glitz...and that’s how you meet Steve Rogers.

A/N: for a challenge hosted by @cxptain Congratulation to your milestone, you deserve nothing less! Thank you for hosting this amazing challenge and allowing me to take part in it! ...I’m not sure how 80′s this is :(

Prompt: Uptown Girl by Billy Joel

A/N 2: I added links to a pic of dresses I had in mind, feel free to ignore them or not :))

Warnings: swearing, mention of arranged marriage, ...fluff?

⊱○◦○◦○◦○◦○◦○◦○◦○◦○◦○◦○◦○◦○◦○⊰

Your sigh was drowned in the sea of voices as you slipped under the surface, the water closing above your head. The moment you opened your mouth to gasp for air, it filled with water instead, and you reached out to the sun glimmering above, trying to save yourself--

To be entirely honest, now you were being dramatic; however, shall anyone exchange places with you, you were sure they would feel the same about the company of artificial people in their best Sunday suits and fancy dress, sitting around the table pretending to be engaged in the small talk.

As your eyes fell on man seated opposite to you, a bowtie around his neck, one corner of his lips raised in a blend of a smile and a smirk, your mind drifted to your wonderful friend. 

Virginia Potts, or Pepper for short, a nickname saved for her friends only, would be much better of a match for Anthony than you. She was nothing short of a proper lady and her parents, while not as wealthy as yours, were much more liberal and supportive of her following her dreams. Pepper Potts was about to turn tables and start her own company from a scratch, businessmen be damned. Her mind was brilliant, her persona enchanting, her appearance turning heads wherever she went and her heart was overflowing with kindness and determination. She was about to make people question the very definition of doing business once she set her foot in the field.

Your parents’ thinking, on the other hand, froze in the sixties, maybe forties. You were meant to become a glorified housewife, albeit educated enough to teach her own kids. You never really minded that; it wasn’t what laid heavy in your mind. Anthony did.

Anthony’s parents were as strict as yours, never quite giving him a choice but to take over the family company and wickedly join it with your father’s by tying your families together one day.

Your future family and your love life were to be based on a business deal. The romance of it.

Tony wasn’t an unlikable person by any means; a genius, somewhat charming in his own slightly arrogant way, he even made for an entertaining company at times. Nevertheless, your affections for him couldn’t begin to even hope to grow beyond friendship. On top of that, it just happened to come that while he was meant to be in the charge of to-be-his company, his interest laid further in the progress of technology itself, in designing things, rather than in attending board meetings.

In other words; Pepper would have been a better match for Tony, much better equipped to lead an enterprise than you and Tony together and oh, let’s not forget, her feelings for Tony went beyond friendly, unlike yours. And they were mutual.

But here you were, sitting through another forcefully polite dinner with the Starks and you wanted to be anywhere but here-- you wanted to be somewhere where you could actually breathe.

As you inhaled shakily and possibly too loud for a lady, your sister Sharon shot you a scolding look. You wanted to scream. However, like the well-mannered girl you were, you fixed a smile for your guests instead and engaged in meaningless conversation until it was time to prepare for bed; you let Anthony kiss your knuckles in goodbye and ignored your father’s pleased smile that had your chest constricted, your stomach full of ice cubes instead of the butterflies you were supposed to feel when being with your future husband.

Your mother made a joke about Tony soon kissing a ring on your hand and you closed your eyes, swallowing the panic that didn’t leave you until the early hours of the morning, causing you to lose sleep.

Seeing your own exhausted expression in the mirror at the crack of dawn, you came to a decision.

You were to escape the tight bodice of your glamorous life if even for a minute.

And you were sure that your best friend, who happened to live closer to normal part of the city, was about to help you.

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The bell jingled as you entered the diner, black and white tile floor resembling a chessboard, albeit slightly shabby against your heels clicking with each step.

Maximoff’s the place was called and besides the funky chessboard floor, the interior was in warm colours, walls painted apricot, the counters, bar, tables, stools and chairs in caramel tones. Your lips automatically spread in a smile as you looked around, heading to the counter built right next to a bar, your eyes running over the specials of the day. As most of the names didn’t feel familiar, you took a mental note to kiss Pepper’s hands once you would reunite in the gallery where she was momentarily alone, providing you an alibi while you sneaked out.

“What’s a pretty thing like ya’ doin’ here? Ya’ lost, dollface?” a male voice startled you and your head snapped the direction it came from, finding a man dressed in a short-sleeved shirt with a strange logo of an eagle on his pocket and jeans. Chin-length brown hair framed his face, stubble rounding his smirking lips, his pale blue-grey eyes fixed on you.

He didn’t seem like he wanted to harm you, but the way he talked seemed strange and the fact you weren’t even sure if he talked to you made you uneasy. Dollface? Who called a woman that? Who called that anyone for that matter?

You smiled at him reluctantly, your heart speeding up. A sigh sounded next to him, out of your view, and another man spoke up, scolding the brunet.

“Lay off, Buck. You’re scaring the dame.”

The owner of the voice leaned away from the bar, his kind blue eyes and inviting expression causing your breath to hitch. Gosh, he was pretty with that subtle smile and ruffled blond hair. You figured they were colleagues since he was dressed in the same manner. You felt a bit inappropriate in your almost knee-length sunflower dress; you were sticking out like a sore thumb. The women in this diner sure weren’t dressed like you.

“Do you need any help?” the blond asked, his tone gentler and less challenging than Buck’s, , instantly putting you at ease; well, as much at ease as you could feel visiting a downtown diner for the first time, on your own, no less.

Your smile grew firmer, more confident, as you beckoned towards the menu above.

“Uhm… perhaps with picking the meal?”

The brunet raised a curious eyebrow at your question. “You want to eat here?”

Yes, you were definitely sticking out and you weren’t the only one to take notice.

“…yes.”

Nervous under his gaze, your eyes flickered to the blond, who seemed equally surprised, tilting his head aside.

“Well, what do you have in mind?” he asked simply.

You only shrugged in response and the brunet rolled his eyes and sighed, wiping his fingers to the napkin near his empty plate.

“Looks like I’m not needed here,” he grumbled and rose to his feet, patting his friend’s shoulder. “Just remember, Stevie, boss’ gonna kill ya’ if you’re more than half an hour late.”

What did that mean?

“Noted,” Stevie huffed a laugh and waved him off.

“Better get outta here sooner than later, can’t run as fast as Maximoff-“

“Yeah, yeah-“

“I better heard that name in a compliment!” a female voice from the door with ‘personnel only’ behind the counter suddenly called out, once again starling you.

“Sure thing, Mrs.M! See ya’!” Buck shouted right back at her as he jogged to the door and you noticed that the woman behind the counter and Stevie weren’t the only ones with their eyes on you, the realization making you shiver on the inside.

“You know what? Let’s sit somewhere else, everyone’s staring. You can check out the complete menu and the waitress will come to us,” the blond offered, already standing up and beckoning to one of the booths.

You felt yourself relax, the ever-present smile on his lips assuring you he had no malicious intent – or you hoped so.

“Sure. Thank you.”

You seated yourself opposite to him, hidden from the majority of the prying eyes as he pushed the menu your way.

“I honestly have no idea what most of this means,” you admitted before even opening the menu, watching the relaxed aura around Stevie instead as he all but melted into the cushions. It bugged you in a way, seeing as his friend had made a certain remark earlier. “…no one is going to try and kill you, right? I would hate to-”

He barked a laugh, small wrinkles appearing at the corners of his eyes and your heart skipped a beat, mesmerized when you simultaneously noticed that his nose was dusted with freckles. He was such a handsome man and he radiated pure amusement as he laughed, simply and carefree. Despite being ashamed at being the source of his amusement, you marvelled at the fact you were the cause of the happy sound.

“Ya’ think ‘dat-- that here downtown, people get iced for being late for work? Is ‘dat the bullshit they feed ya’?” You blinked at his words, unsure you understood his strange lingo. Stevie shook his head, the corner of his lips still twitching. “I meant killed. And nonsense, the nonsense they feed you.”

“They mostly don’t feed me anything about downtown and what life really is here…” you confessed with a sigh, spotting the woman from behind the counter making her way to you, red apron swinging a bit with her step.

“Good morning, almost afternoon! Oh, Steve, some dame you have here! Finally! Not sure we have enough fancy for her though,” she greeted you enthusiastically, her speech ending with a slight thoughtful pout.

You swallowed the indignation at her assumption and smiled at her. “I… um, I don’t need anything fancy, madam. At all, actually.”

“You heard that? Madam! You keep this one close, Steve!”

“Hey! I’m polite!” the blond protested, a twinkle of humour in his eye. “Can we have the least fancy thing for the lady, then? And a strawberry milkshake? Ya’ alright with strawberries? It’s the best one…”

The woman, Mrs.M as Buck had called her, wrote down the order in her little notepad when you only nodded, dumb-struck when Stevie – Steve? – ordered for you. “Coming right up! You want anything else, Stevie?

“Just a refill, please?” he looked up pleadingly and the woman sighed, patting his head.

“You’re addicted, hon, I feel sorry for your stomach. I’ll bring the pot.”

“You’re an angel, Anna.”

“Yeah, yeah…” she mumbled as she walked away.

Steve laid his very much muscular forearms on the table, leaning in, giving you his undivided attention.  “So… what’s your name, doll?”

Unlike with Bucky, Steve’s endearment somehow made your belly warm, your gaze lowering at his soft tone. You introduced yourself quietly and forced yourself to look up again – you were not raised by wolves, after all – and offered him a hand to shake, rising from your seat just a inch.

To your surprise, your companion gently took your fingers and turned your hand, kissing the back of it. As in, actually kissing it, his lips brushing your skin, his gaze locked with yours, stealing the breath from your lungs and making your rear fall back into your seat in surprise.

Who knew the downtown boys could be so charming?

“Pretty name for a pretty gal,” he commented. “So, what brings ya’ here?”

“…lunch? I told you?”

He clicked his tongue discontentedly at your poor excuse – it wasn’t exactly a lie, but… “Bad liar. Kinda like me.”

Was that right? Was he as innocent and honest as his eyes had been telling you ever since you noticed him behind Bucky? So far, he was nothing but nice to you. He could be your partner in crime – and you don’t lie to partners, especially when you’re a bad liar in the first place. You shifted in your seat, inhaled deeply and told him your dark secret.

“I just… I needed a change of scenery.”

His smile turned into a solid grin, mischief playing in his blue irises now, accenting the drop of green in them you hadn’t noticed before. “Well… looks like ya’ came to the right place.”

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One of the things Steve really liked about Maximoff’s was the domestic atmosphere. It was a family diner, one started by immigrants and yet not missing anything from the American way anyone could big mouth about. It was familial, relaxed yet with efficient staff and people practically knew each other by name – the regulars did at least.

Which meant that the stunning girl in sunflower dress who walked in wearing elegant high heels turned heads instantly, both in a good and bad way. Steve found the absurd figure both amusing and fascinating; she appeared utterly lost in her well-mannered way, her skirt brushed the tights just above her knees, catching an eye of me than one guy- and really, Steve had trouble not staring as well, but he at least attempted to.

Bucky, not so much.

Steve had to give it to her though – she was adorably startled when Buck opened his big mouth and tried to flirt with her… if that was what it was supposed to be, but she didn’t run out of the door just yet, even trying for a polite talk.

Cute. How could Steve go back to work knowing this remarkable creature was in his favourite diner? They would eat her alive, serve her like the next special!

Alright, that was a bit of an overstatement, but still.

And now, seeing her eyes widen as Wanda, the owner’s daughter and the twin sister to Steve’s colleague, placed a huge hamburger in front of the woman who simply couldn’t be from around here – uptown, if Steve guessed correctly – he knew he wouldn’t miss it for the world.

Luckily for him, not missing it still meant keeping his job, because they didn’t wait long. It was another thing Steve loved around here – they were quick, ready for the onslaught of hungry customers around noon, so ready that the pair barely exchanged few words before they were served food and the sinful strawberry milkshake—and thank fuck- coffee.

He sipped at the hot bitter liquid, hiding his smile at the curious, desperate and utterly adorable expression on the girl’s face as she was trying to figure out how the hell she should eat that. But because he felt a bit sorry for her too – she never had a hamburger, had she, how was she even alive – he lowered the cup and took mercy upon her.

“Ya’ just need to take it to your hands, bite and hope for the best that your cute dress won’t get a new colour on it,” Steve remarked, not bothering to keep a straight face. “Just dig in, uptown.”

She huffed, clearly slightly irked at his jab, but obediently placed her fingers to the sides of the burger and brought it to her red-painted lips. Steve settled comfortably to his seat, a coffee and a free comedy show with the prettiest actress he had ever laid his eyes on playing right in front of him.

“So… why did ya’ need a change?” he brought up after few moments, watching her reaction to the taste, a pleasant surprise on her face, a drop of grease in the corner of her lips. His fingers twitched on the cup with the need to wipe it away from her otherwise perfectly cleaned up face.  

He liked her face – it wasn’t hidden under tones of shiny coloured shit girl used these days.

She swallowed first, shaking her head, but never letting her food from her hands as if someone could steal it before she finished. Steve felt that on spiritual fucking level.

“It is a complicated issue,” she said, dodging the question. Steve fought the urge to roll his eyes.

“Try me.”

And with a sigh, she did, even when averting his gaze, lost in thought.

“You don’t know what’s like. All those… strained faces, smiling and nodding when asked to even if you don’t agree… not even being able to scratch your nose during dinner without people looking at you like you insulted them, their children and grandchildren that aren’t even born yet…“

Steve blinked at the waterfall of words, not expecting her to actually share that much. He only managed to stare at the embodiment of a good obedient uptown girl – minus the burger – while processing her words.

They sounded… not right. He never thought of it that way. His ma’ worked tooth and nail to keep them fed and he gave up going to art school for the very same reason. Hearing this girl, who was probably blessed with enough money to bath in it, complain about her life… was strange and frankly insulting, but when he thought of it, she did list some quite unpleasant downsides.

Gee. What people did to keep the picture perfect up. Can’t scratch her nose.

“Oh my, you must think I am a complete brat,” she exclaimed into the silence that fell on their table and Steve winced, both startled and pleasantly surprised. The self-awareness in her. “Spoiled privileged girl who doesn’t appreciate how lucky she is not having to work sixteen hours a day to feed herself and her family. Gosh, I am a terrible person, I’m sorry for rambling.”

Seeing her so self-depreciating caused a smile to spread on Steve’s face once more. Self-awareness indeed, realization in the purest form.

Where the hell did she come from?

She was… an odd egg, that was for sure. Steve certainly liked that and he hated seeing her with her lips turned downwards; so he spoke what was on his mind, as he always did.

“No… no. I think I understand… to a point.”

“Likely story,” she uttered, taking an angry bite of the hamburger.

So fucking adorable when angry – if that was what she called it. Steve could kiss that pouty lip of hers.

“I do!” he protested, raising his hands palms up and gesturing to her subtly to show he saw her point. “And for the record, I promise you – you can scratch your nose all you want with me.”

The smile she gave him could power a damn city, even if it wasn’t necessarily radiant – just very, very sweet and almost shy. “Thank you, Steve. I—never mind. Do you… have family?”

Steve, taken aback by her question, hesitated only for a moment. She had been honest, he should too. And to his genuine surprise, he enjoyed talking to her, so why ruin that with making shit up?

“Nope. Ma’ passed away few years ago. Dad’s been gone a while. Just Buck and guys from my shop.”

“I’m sorry. Really. I can’t imagine.”

He shrugged it off, ignoring the pang in his heart – the loss of his mother, only few years prior, still hurt. He missed her – she was an incredible woman and the kindest mother.

“That’s life. But thanks. You?”

“Both parents and—” she started off reluctantly, but then downright sighed. ”-a sister.”

“Don’t sound too excited about it,” Steve remarked sarcastically and she sighed again, putting her unfinished food away, frowning at it. “Full already?”

“It’s huge!”

“Gimme. No food comes to waste on my watch. Drink your milkshake,” he hummed, pulling the plate to his side of the table, much to her obvious astonishment – and was that a hint of amusement? – and took a bite. She shook her head, wiping her mouth with careful taps of a napkin, but was totally grinning at his actions, which left him unfairly giddy. “Ya’ were sayin’? About your family? More like your sister ya’ don’t exactly love?”

Steve almost choked when the smile slipped from her lips, mentally cursing himself.

“I know, I know! Once again – terrible person, I am aware. And I do like her, she’s family,” she said quickly as if to save the situation and prove she could treat her sister properly. Steve found the ‘she’s a family’ a bit of a learned phrase, utter shit, but he’d listen to more. “It’s just… Sharon… she’s the younger sister, but she is… perfect. Everyone thinks so. And she is! I swear I am not jealous, but… I wish I had more of a sister and less of an omnipresent perfect lady to tell me my hair doesn’t look good today at every occasion.”

Steve deliberately took a long nice look at her hairstyle. There was not one hair out of place on her head. She had some sort of an elaborate braid on her head Steve couldn’t hope to understand, making her look like a princess – well, kinda like a queen even, but her young face and playful and elegant dress wouldn’t make for a serious and grey sovereign. Princess it was.

“Was ‘dat today?” Steve asked, wiping his fingers to a napkin as he finished her meal and took a large gulp of coffee.

“Yes… again.”

His eyebrow slowly rose, sceptical and pitying. And kinda mad at people who ever told her she was anything but perfect. Beautiful. Stunning. Adorable.

“Well, no offence, doll, but your sis sounds like she should ease up on the bitch juice and have her eyes checked. Your hair’s fine, this whole…” he gestured vaguely to her head, “complicated thing ya’ did with it, is pretty like the rest of ya’.”

He should probably ease up on the compliments, but he couldn’t help himself. She seemed flustered at it and he loved it. She was cute. Her only flaw was that her hair wasn’t loose – Steve would like to see what she looked like, wild hair to run fingers through--

“…thank you. What is, eh, bitch juice?”

Steve chuckled when called out on his mistake. “Nothing really, means she shouldn’t be mean to ya’. Probably shouldn’t say ‘dat home, tho.”

Her smile made its return, sweet, shy and happy as she learned something new. “I will keep it in mind. Thank you for sweeping in, taking me under your wing here. You are a great company. I like you.”

Steve would deny it till the day he’d die, but that moment, his chest puffed with fucking pride. She liked him. Take that, Barnes! Take that, uptown snobs! She liked HIM.

“Well, if ya’ ever come to downtown ever again-“ he sort-of joked, the realization that this was very likely to be a one-time thing settling heavy in his stomach.

He wasn’t kidding anyone – he liked her too. A lot. Even when she was bitching; or maybe because of that, in addition to her 100% cutesy and pretty face… and figure.

“Would you meet me?” she asked excitedly, eyes lighting up with joy, which… Steve didn’t see coming.

“Uhm-- sure. If ya’ wanted.”

“Next Tuesday? What time?” she pried, sipping happily at the remnants of her milkshake. Nope, not the visual he needed—dammit.

Wait, what did she just say?

“You’re serious?” he asked incredulously, earning a shrug and a soft smile.

“You are funny and nice… and handsome.” Well, his ego just levitated through the ceiling, he wasn’t gonna lie- “I told you I liked you. Does that… mean something different here?”

He felt his lips curl up in a gentle smile at her slight confusion. She sounded so innocent. Steve’s heart could melt – and she already had him wrapped around her finger, which he surprisingly didn’t mind.

“No, doll, means the same thing. I like you too,” he assured her. “Gotta run, tho. Ya’ get home alright?”

“Yes. I only have to walk to the gallery nearby. I should go too…. Do I pay at the counter or somewhere-?”

“Nope. I do,” Steve interrupter her inspection of the diner and she swiftly rose to her feet.

“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly-“

“Lemme treat a pretty girl, ‘k?”

The words were out of his mouth before he could think better of them – but if he had, his reaction would be exactly the same. This might have not been a proper date, but no matter how much more money she no doubt had, Steve’s ma’ would box his ear if he let the lady pay.

The fact she casted her gaze down, shy at his supposed chivalry, was only a pleasant bonus. He could kiss her at that moment, so friggin’ beautiful and shy, and possibly interested.

“You say that a lot,” she whispered, glancing up at him from under her long eyelashes, tiny smile playing on her lips.

Steve shrugged it off and headed for the counter before he could act on impulse and actually pull her in to smack his mouth to hers.

“Just sayin’ the truth. Six p.m. works for ya’?”

She hummed as he paid for her and his coffee. “I will make it work.”

That was good enough for him as he offered this very place to meet.

Once they left the diner, she managed to take him aback once more when she rose to her tiptoes – a heroic act in her pumps – and pressed a soft chaste kiss on his cheek before saying a simple goodbye and began to walk the opposite direction than him.

Steve was grinning like a fool for the rest of the day and not even Bucky’s wiggling eyebrows could ruin his mood.

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Sleepovers were for children, you had been told by your mother more than once; so you claimed that what you were going to do with Pepper would be a girls’ night (women’ night?) and she suddenly seemed ecstatic, because Pepper was a fashion goddess and you still had a lot to learn about being chic.

You didn’t even care for the insult, as you were not about to spend time with your friend. No, Pepper was only kind enough to help you out and plot against the evil forces of uptown, covering for you while you’d be having a—a date with Steve. The week couldn’t past fast enough.

But finally you were here, wearing a pink dress – if a bit too chaste, but practical for a summer evening – with decorative black buttons, short sleeves and a bow around your waist, hair styled by the ‘fashion goddess’ who lived up to her title and charmed two French braids on your head. You were nearly jumping on spot, looking around subtly from time to time – you still had two minutes to spare.

So you stood there, trying not to tap your foot – which was really tempting, the elegant flats with an inch-tall heel making tapping much more easier than your usual pumps – and politely smiled at each person passing you.

When you caught a glimpse of a tall blonde figure, your smile widened into an honest one. He was even more handsome than you remembered – and he reciprocated the smile upon seeing you, his eyes not-so-subtly travelling up and down your figure. He was wearing simple blue t-shirt, one that hugged his muscular figure tightly, causing your mind to wander into strange places, and a pair of jeans – a simple outfit that he clearly felt comfortable in, a backpack slung over one of his broad shoulders.

“Wow. I feel underdressed now. And we might have to change plans,” he said upon greeting you, deep timber that haunted you in your sweetest dreams.

You subconsciously crumbled your skirt between your fingers, your smile faltering as you suddenly felt self-conscious and disappointed that you didn’t dress to his liking – or to fittingly to his plans.

“Oh, no! Should I run and change?”

Steve instantly shook his head, taking a hold of your hand, bringing it to his lips. Your cheeks heated up, your heart speeding up at his affection.

“Absolutely not. You look beautiful,” he opposed, giving you a once-over again, his blue eyes twinkling.

“Thank you. You too--handsome, I mean.”

And he was. Gosh. And that ruffled hair of his-! How did you want to run your fingers through it—and not to give a damn about such action being inappropriate.

“Thanks. I—uh, I was plannin’ for a small trip with… a bit of climbin’, which was stupid, I know-“ he stumbled over his words, scratching the back of neck sheepishly, clearly having absolutely no clue how giddy you had been – and still were – for spending the time with him in any form.

You cleared your throat. “How much climbing?”

“Not too much…? It would be safe, I promise. But I’m worried about your dress-“

“I’m not!” you blurted out, covering your mouth in embarrassment at your hastiness.

Steve didn’t seem to mind; in fact, a slow mischievous grin spread on his lips, beckoning you to follow him.

“Then come with me if ya’ wanna know what it’s like to live.”

The sentence was rather ironic; before you knew it, you were sitting nearly on the edge of a damn roof, precisely 37 storeys above the ground, on a building that wasn’t even finished yet.

Apparently, Buck’s – Bucky’s – uncle worked as construction manager, which opened you the doors to one of the unfinished additions to New York’s skyline. Some storeys you had to indeed climb, but with Steve’s support, you had felt ridiculously safe, grateful for thinking to bring flats instead of usual attire – and the reward was absolutely worth it.

Seeing the sunset, sitting on a picnic blanket after finishing simple sandwiches and a lemonade, you felt like you had the world at your feet.

It was breath-taking, for the lack of better term, enough to bring tears to your eyes.

Never in your life you had felt so… light. So free. Despite the heights you found yourself in, you had never breathed more easily. And as sentimental it might sound… you were sure it didn’t only went down to not being under scrutiny from your family and those bigheads who thought that they had a claim on the world, hence claim on you too-- no, you could tell with absolute certainty that at least part of this liberating feeling went down to the person sitting next to you, staring with you at the sunset and the lights of the city coming to life, flashing neons shining in the streets.

Your hand blindly reached for his, covering the back of it, feeling the slight roughness of his knuckles and skin – a hand of a workman. He didn’t retreat, but you could feel his gaze shifting to you.

“Thank you for taking me here, Steve,” you whispered, a tender breath of wind carrying your voice to a faraway place, to a dreamland. You couldn’t tear your eyes from the marvellous scenery. “It’s… it’s so beautiful.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, his hand shifting under yours, escaping your hold, fingers running up your arms to nestle on your jaw, gently cradling, causing your breathing to hitch, your heart speeding up to a at least a hundred per minute. “You are, doll.”

You turned to him, melting in his touch, and while you saw his face inching closer to yours, nerves working, regretting your inexperience, not for a split second you thought of retreating.

When Steve’s lips met yours, all rational thought left your mind, carried away by the sweet breeze of summer.

Girls’ night never felt so magical.

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Part 2

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Tags: @wxstedhexrt, @comicshoplife, @elysianecho, @scentedsongrebel, @orions-nebula, @pies-wands-and-more (I know you didn’t ask explicitly, but I can take a hint)

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I’m almost embarrassed to say that it turned out, once again, much much longer than I intended. But some might box my ears if I did, so... yay?

Credit for the fic title and chapter title goes to @queen-kass-the-writer​ - thank you!

And thank you for reading!

[ificouldhelpyouforget]

New Passion: Part 2 (Spike Spiegel x OC)

MASTERLIST | COWBOY BEBOP MASTERLIST

A/N: I know it’s been awhile and I’m sorry. It’s finally here though! It’s not the Christmas one I hoped to get out (not sure if I should hold off until next Christmas now), but it’s the last part of ‘New Passion’ and that’s pretty cool. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this part!

Summary: Vida is all better and Spike has something special for her to celebrate.

Warnings: Spike is probably ooc and there are some steamy bits toward the end (nothing too graphic); oh and a cuss word or two

Words: 2.2k

"I'd say you're good to return to your usual activities, Miss Bell."

Vida grinned. "Really? Like, I can start exercising again?"

"I'd say so," the doctor chuckled. "But if you have to fight a bounty, be careful. A hit in on one of your nearly healed spots could do more damage."

"That makes sense."

"I know. Now take care of yourself and stay out of trouble."

"I'll try. Thanks, Doc. Have a good day!"

The same sentiment was sent her way as Vida left the room with a hop in her steps. The moment she stepped out of the building to find a certain handsome bounty hunter leaning against the Swordfish, Vida's skips turned into a sprint. He barely caught sight of her before she leaped into his arms and pressed her smiling lips to his.

"I guess it went well," Spike murmured while she continued kissing him until he placed her back on the ground.

"I got the 'all clear!' I can do all the things I used to do minus bounty hunting... Are you absolutely sure you don't want me hunting anymore?"

"Yes. You're more helpful than Jet as our guardian angel."

"Aw. You think I'm an angel?"

Spike tapped her head. "Yeah, with horns to hold up your halo."

"Life's more fun when you mingle naughty and nice."

"Hm."

Her eyes shined as she stared up at Spike. The longer he held her gaze, the more her heart raced. Being told she could live life normally again gave her a new sense of freedom. Vida was herself again.

"Care to have dinner with me?"

"Don't I always eat with you, Spike?"

"This is special. To celebrate, I guess. Only us."

"Okay. I would love to have dinner with you. Where'd you get the woolongs for it?"

He put a cigarette between his lips but didn't light it. "Saving, asking Jet for help, and suffering with half a cigarette every day." That was when he pulled his lighter out.

"You didn't have to do that. Not for me."

Spike shrugged like it wasn't an inconvenience.

"Thank you, Spike." She pulled the cigarette from Spike's lips and stood on her toes to kiss him before whispering the three words she hadn't been able to stop saying since the night she revealed how deep her feelings ran.

His arms circled her waist before she could slip away and he kissed her hard. Her breath flew away and she nearly dropped his still smoking cigarette. Spike smirked and took it back, climbing into the Swordfish.

To say Vida was disappointed Spike didn't repeat the words back to her was an understatement. She assumed he'd tell her as soon as she left the doctor's office. Little did she know, Spike had a plan in mind.

•

Dinner went well. Spike took Vida to a hole-in-the-wall BBQ place with decent prices considering the amount of food they ate. Spike ended up eating all of his meal while Vida had to take a portion of hers home.

The lanky man carried Vida's food for her and took her hand in his free one. When he started walking in the direction opposite the Bebop, Vida tugged on his hand.

"The ship's the other way, Spike."

"Did I say we're going back there yet?"

"No." Vida chewed on her bottom lip. "Where are we going then?"

"You'll see."

A few minutes later – and a few laughs later – Spike stopped in front of a fairly ritzy hotel for Mars. Vida's eyes grew and her mouth fell open. A smirk appeared on his face.

"Wait. Did you... Are we staying here?"

"One night. No Jet. No Faye. A real bed and no metal walls." Spike leaned closer to her. "An entire night where we can do whatever we want."

"You're pretty romantic aren't you?" Vida squeezed his hand.

He huffed, the apples of his cheeks turning slightly pink. "Just come on."

Obediently, Vida followed Spike to the front desk and to their room all while bouncing on her toes. As soon as the door opened, Vida took off and leaped into the air. She landed on the bed spread-eagle. "Oh, this feels wonderful. It's been so long."

The door clicked shut as Spike chuckled. "Think we can get Jet to replace our beds?"

"Yeah right. Neither one of you would want to waste the money when good steak is available."

Vida turned her head to see Spike take his jacket off and drape it over a chair. He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, giving her a lovely view of his arm muscles at work. "You're so handsome, Spike."

He paused and looked at her, eyes blinking like it was news to him. "I just took my jacket off."

"Uh-huh. And you look nice. I figured I'd tell you like the many times before." Vida tilted her head and smiled. "Are you nervous, Spike?"

"No."

"Are trying to figure out how to say something to me?"

"Again, no." He rolled his eyes and emptied his pant pockets.

"You don't have to make it a spectacle. Just say it." Vida rolled off the bed to stand in front of him. "It's not too hard. Scary, but not difficult. We both know how we feel." She tugged on his tie. "Repeat after me: I. Love. You. I love you. Easy."

Spike looked unamused.

"Do I need to say it first? I will if you need me to."

"Cut it out!"

"You don't have to tell me any specific way."

Spike turned away from her and pouted."

Vida kissed his cheek. "You're more of a romantic than I am and it's sweet. How about you think on it while I take a shower, okay?"

He didn't react, making her giggle.

"Be back soon, Spike."

•

Vida didn't bother washing her hair mostly because she didn't want to deal with waiting for it to dry. It wasn't worth the hassle.

Wondering if Spike brought any sleep clothes for her to change into, Vida opened the door to ask, a towel wrapped around her. She didn't expect the man to stop dead in the middle of the doorway. Her lips parted to speak, but he moved faster.

Spike pulled her into his arms where he started kissing her as if his life depended on it, trapping her between himself and the wall. With one arm, he lifted her higher, allowing her to wrap her legs around his waist. Vida felt her towel slipping and went to grab for it, but Spike pinned that hand above her head. Her head spun too much to fight against him.

When they both finally needed air, Vida chuckled and kissed the end of his nose. "What an unexpected way to leave the bathroom. I wouldn't be opposed to making this a regular thing."

With a gentle touch, Spike released her hand and traced the line of her jaw. Vida closed her eyes, relishing the caress, and placed her palm against his chest. She angled her neck as his fingers trailed downward and across her shoulder. The soft press of his lips against her forehead made her sigh.

"I love you."

Her eyes opened and a smile lit up her flushed face. "I love you, too."

Spike pressed his face into her shoulder where his hand fell from and he hugged her close. Any feelings of lust she had in the moment floated away when his arms circled her waist. She carefully stood on her feet and ran her fingers through his fluffy hair. His lips briefly touched her skin.

Vida expected Spike to take her to bed the moment he said he loved her. That was – in a sense – the deal they made. But to have him embrace her, hide against her as if it took everything in him to say it made her truly feel the love he wanted to convey. It was more than the physical act.

"Thank you," she whispered, rubbing his back. Vida nuzzled his shoulder with her cheek.

He left a second kiss closer to her neck before Spike lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed. Spike laid Vida down, kissing her lips, and sitting up to look at her.

For the first time, Vida felt nervous – albeit in a good way. She watched his eyes study every inch of her flesh as he tugged away her towel. She almost wanted to cover herself but refrained.

Goosebumps rose across her skin when his hand rested on her belly, palm flat. Everywhere his hand went, the bumps followed. It was as if he was memorizing her.

"We've done this a lot, Spike," she breathed just as he placed a second hand on her, running both across her legs. "You know everything about my body."

He leaned over her and kissed her lips. "Not like this."

Warmth settled in her abdomen. A long and quiet moan slipped out of her mouth. Spike smirked against her lips before he continued his exploration. But he wasn't finished once his hands reached her feet. His lips still needed their turn.

Vida had no control over the short sound that came from her the second his breath neared where she ached for him most. When his lips touched, her whole body twitched, making her laugh and cover her mouth. "You're going to kill me before the night is over."

Spike planted a kiss below her belly button before resuming his exploration down her legs. And when he was done, he sat back on his feet and tugged Vida closer by her ankles. She squealed and sat up when her thighs pressed against his knees.

"This is extremely unfair," Vida said, bending her knees under her to straddle his lap. "I'm completely naked and you're still sitting her dressed."

"I'm not done yet." Spike nibbled on the flesh of her neck, one hand pressing her close to him. The other stroked the length of her thigh, from her knee to her hip and back. "Don't you want me to love you right?"

Vida groaned out a curse, relaxing completely against him.

Spike dared to chuckle. "That's what does it for you now?"

Vida stared, eyes dark and need. "When I have you, Spike Spiegel, the man who doesn't talk about how he feels often if at all, using the word 'love' casually. I get to hear how much I mean to you when you use that single word... So, yeah. That does it for me now." She ran her hand across his chest. "That and everything else about you. I love you."

A low hum rumbled in Spike's chest and he smiled. He laid Vida back down, hovering over her. "What should I do first, hm?"

She blinked. "Like... with you? Or me?"

"What should I do first?"

"Get undressed. Please, and thank you."

With a quick roll of his eyes and a smirk, Spike sat up and undid his tie, staring at Vida watching him. Her fingertips trailed along her stomach as he removed each article of clothing, pausing momentarily when he stood up to remove his pants and boxer.

"Now what?"

"Come here and let me do what you did for me."

Chuckling, Spike purposely crawled over her – leaving a kiss on a scar across her abdomen – and lay beside her. His eyes stayed on her while she gave him similar attention. His leg twitched and stomach muscles tensed when her hand gave extra attention to the appendage between his legs. Under his breath, he let out a groan the moment her lips fluttered by moments later. Vida ended her adventure with several kisses to his lips, straddling his waist to do so.

"Anything else I can do for you?" Spike asked, nibbling on her earlobe. Both of his hands settled on her waist to keep her still above him.

"Make love to me?"

Spike flipped her onto her back, his mouth on hers and tongue slipping between her lips. The sweet sound she made urged him forward, a low promise given to her when they pulled away from each other.

Knowing how deeply their love ran changed their sounds, their movements. Despite his eagerness, Spike took his time meeting with her, his lips never leaving her skin for more than a couple of seconds. The louder her moans became, the more feeling he put behind everything he did. But before either could completely lose themselves to their pleasure, they switched, Vida sitting atop him and using the same deliberate motions.

The first time they finished, Spike left lazy kisses on Vida's head, enjoying the weight of her spent body on him. Quiet mewls mixed with her heavy breaths while she tucked her arms under her as if settling in for a nap. Her flesh seemed to buzz as Spike ran his fingers up and down her spine. Vida refused to move even after her breath evened out.

Spike eventually rolled her off to detach from her, happily pulling her back into his arms so she could curl up against him.

Vida hummed and tucked her nose under his jaw. "That was well worth the wait." She drew shapes on his chest. "Thank you for tonight, Spike. It's been perfect."

"I'm not done with you yet, Vida."

"Mmm, good. Maybe we can take full advantage of the shower since we don't have any nosy roommates to bother us."

"Sounds fun."

"Don't let me fall."

"That's hard to do when you've already fallen for me."

Vida giggled, lifting her head to give him a sweet kiss. "I have fallen pretty hard for you, cowboy. I'm not sure I'll ever recover."

Spike's hand tangled in her hair to bring her back to his lips. The longer they kissed, the more they touched and shifted against each other. It wasn't long before Spike had Vida on her back with her legs draped over his shoulders.

The rest of the night continued similarly. They'd meet in passion, rest, meet again in a new way, rest, and so on. It wasn't until the early morning hours – after a steamy bout in the shower – when the couple crashed for the night, arms wrapped around each other as if they'd disappear.

Spike smiled to himself before sleep took him, picking up the mumbled words from Vida. Another reminder her heart was completely his. It was something far more precious than beef in his stirfry.