There are a lot of reasons i feel intense resentment (at the very least) towards anti vaxers and anti maskers. There are a lot of things that I quite possibly never do the same way again. Every time I go out or think about going out I’m reminded of this. Every time I go online and see one of those assholes I’m reminded of it. Every time I see some of my own relatives I’m reminded of it. I hate it so much. But there is something different about the feelings I get when I’m reminded of something small I can’t do. I don’t know what it is but it’s almost more sadness than anger, and when my ears hurt because I’ve been wearing a mask all day as I buy groceries and go to appointments, that enrages me. When I’m told I’m being brainwashed or paranoid because I can’t stand the thought of long covid and the fact that I could get even more health problems because those fuckers joined some cult mindset I’m enraged. When I open up the cabinet behind my bathroom mirror and see my black lipstick it’s more sad. I miss the theatrics of wearing dramatic colorful makeup. I miss the drama of having black lipstick and Wes all black. Sure, I can still wear all black (and most often do) and wear dramatic eye makeup, but my favorite thing, the lipstick, isn’t an option anymore. Only some gatherings of people or something where I need to take off my mask would show it, and getting lipstick all over the inside of a mask isn’t very fun tbh. I was never super into makeup and I have never worn it even close to everyday, but I miss when I did.

A Soul to Mend His Own | Ch. 72

This is the part where I reiterate if you see something in the tags/warnings you don't like, please just leave the story.

Warning, PLEASE CHECK TAGS IF YOU SEE SOMETHING YOU DON’T WANT TO READ THEN DON’T READ. | Tag lists are closed | INBOX OPEN

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Will tag as I go along, Will update tags, Slow Burn, Influenced by Star Trek and other Sci-Fi themes, References to We Happy Few, Tons of References and quotes to George Orwells 1984 see if you can find them all, The First Order is the new Big Brother,  but who is really surprised, Blatant Nazi Symbolism, Interrogation Themes, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Really just drawn out Slow Burn, Don’t repost without permission, Torture themes, Suggestive Themes, Execution themes, Disturbing Themes, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Verbal Abuse, Controlling Kylo Ren, Physical Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, Possessive Kylo Ren, A character shamelessly based on Zelda

A Kylo Ren x Modern! Reader in a soulmate au with canon divergence. —————————————SLOWBURN————————————–

He is already the Supreme leader, searching the universe to find you, his Empress. Your name on his wrist has been the only constant in his life, while you have doubts about his existence and his acceptance of you. He isn’t in the database and why did the name Kylo Ren cover Ben Solo?

MASTERLIST

Chapter 72: Ink and Lies

You woke up with a pressure behind your ear and a hand between your legs. The last few mornings since you’ve been crowned Empress, since your wedding, Kylo has woken you up by fingering you and playing with your clit. Basically giving you an orgasm to start the day, not that you were complaining at all. You also tried to happily return the favor, but it was much easier to do some sort of handjob, wrist match name attention mix to get him off since he has really too big for your hands to handle properly. But that is what your mornings consisted of.

You and Kylo had done some work over the last few days but not much, you weren’t going to be able to get a proper honeymoon in the middle of a war, but your love nest was enough. Today was the first day that Kylo would be leaving the ship. The Alazmac apparently had something for him, something of Vader’s that they wanted to give you both as a wedding present. You weren’t exactly happy that he was leaving the ship, as you had wanted him close, he was right in the sense that him guarding you made you feel safer.

In the last few days, you had seen very little of your staff outside a few visits from your ladies-in-waiting and Mitaka, who relayed important messages. Hux was bearing the brunt of the responsibility of the First Order at the moment, not unlike before you were in the picture, but you felt bad.

In the couple of hours that Kylo was gone, you and your ladies-in-waiting did some rehabilitation work. Your body in many ways had taken a beating and you needed to be restored to some sort of functional state.

Eyeing you up and down, scanning over the many, many love marks. “You know you look like you’ve been attacked by a pack of wild dogs,” commented Adlez.

This caused a snort of laughter at the comparison, “If only you knew the truth.” Especially with your new nickname for Kylo. You didn’t mind the beast, especially in bed. But after the last few days, it would be nice to be able to feel the lower half of your body finally.

“Maybe you need to put him on a leash, hmm? Some obedience training? It’s worked wonders on his knights. And the pack of dogs they are.” Again it felt like Adlez was full of surprises. She’s hinted at her sleeping around with the knights, teaching them ‘manners.’

You tried to play off the smirk that was on your face. “All of them or just Cardo?” You knew the rowdy Knight of Ren had a soft spot for her. So much so that Kylo asked you about it.

“All of them.” She shrugged, “But Cardo has been a special boy.” The images that popped into your head were rather... scaring. You were just grateful that you did not have to witness them in real life.

Your face flushed with embarrassment, “Oh my god, didn’t need to know that, but good for you.” You really didn’t, she had her private life, and you had yours.

“You should ask the Supreme Leader about their wedding gift for you two.” Some rather terrifying possibilities jumped around in your head. You almost didn’t want to know, especially if he hasn’t shown it to you yet.

“Do I want to know?” You probably didn’t, but you might be able to get an answer out of her, eventually. “Well, it might just help with that obedience bit. He is their leader, their alpha and now you are their alpha too. Teach him some new tricks.” And the dog imagery was back, you wonder just how much she knows. But for now you wanted to drop the subject all together.

They ended up filling the tub with bacta for you to soak, Kylo had expressed the discomfort about you going to the med bay for treatment. And since none of your ‘injuries’ were severe or life-threatening it was a long bath in gross bacta gel for you. Adlez told you to submerge yourself but that meant Kylo’s favorite love bites would be healed too and you weren’t about to do that, you wanted to wear a few of them with pride.

By the time you got out, you felt renewed again. The only bruises left were those high up on your neck, along your jaw, and of course the one behind your ear. Still marked up for him, still owned, but it wasn’t like you needed it because you had your wedding ring and you doubt there is any place in the galaxy that doesn’t know your face now. You were his and were proud to display his conquest marks. You also haven’t worn any proper clothes in the last few days, if you were just with Kylo you were either naked or wearing just a robe, but if you were meeting with someone you wore a wrap dress. Which seemed to be Kylo’s favorite type of garment on you because he could easily untie you and have access to whatever he wanted.  

After Adlez and Olivia-Rose made you human again you had a meeting with your staff and Hux. They seemed to eye your condition carefully. Not really knowing how Kylo had left you, since you had really only been meeting with Mitaka and your ladies-in-waiting.

“What are my most pressing matters?” You knew you did not have much time to be talking with them Kylo would be back soon, and your rehabilitation treatments took a bit longer than you initially expected. Adlez insisted on you being repaired from head to toe with face masks, hair removal, and the works.

“You still need to meet with Senator Apolin about your education,” said Mitaka. Your thoughts went back to the dinner, and how he treated you. Acting as if you were some idiot girl that tricked her way into Kylo’s bed with the intent to rule the galaxy.

A thought popped into your head, you had new privileges now. “Do I or does being Empress now negate that?”

Hux cleared his throat, “I would say that it negates it. He technically has no right to question you now, I suggest a letter versus a call.” He seemed to have your back in many ways, especially when it came to dealing with Pryde and his friends. You wondered just how much he hated the man.

“Right,” you turned to Lieutenant Amala Graven. “Can you write up something about it? Something along the lines that since he, unfortunately, did not set up a date prior to me becoming Empress that he now is not in the position to review my education?” This made you feel happy, knowing that an old man like him wouldn’t be getting his way this time, and that you had tricked him into thinking he had some power over you.

She pushed up her glasses before she began taking notes, very diligent in her work. “Yes. Would you like it to be formal or semi-formal?”

“Formal, but as much hidden sass as you can put in it. Also, let him know that it was unfortunate that he couldn’t attend the wedding.” You were glad he didn’t. You were honestly surprised you were able to handle Pryde being there, but then again, you didn’t know he was there until after the wedding and consummation of your vows were over.

“But we did not extend him an invitation m’lady,” said Mitaka you could hear the worry in his voice. You don’t know if it was because the invitation was ‘forgotten’ or if it was because you were possibly going to piss off a powerful ally.  

You thought for a moment. Even if he wasn’t invited he still had an expectation to uphold his duty. “Has he sent a gift?” You were sure you knew the answer, one of the rooms that shared your chamber’s hallway was cleared out just to hold all of them, some of them still arriving.

Hux answered for the captain. “No, he has not.” You could see the wheels turning in his mind, you knew he agreed with you and what you were about to do.

You looked between both of them, holding your ground. “Then my point still stands. Shall we move on to the next topic?”

Before you could move on Kylo entered the room and ordered everyone out. He was holding something in his hand that you could not see. He chose not to remove his helmet before speaking to you. The chilling sound of his distorted voice haunting you to the bone. “I must leave.”

Waves of confusion washed over you, with their freezing cold waters. “Leave be you just got back? Where are you going?” Your mind was racing a million miles a minute. You were supposed to be relatively safe now, that other danger was not supposed to happen for a while, or at least that’s what you thought.

“I have something left to do.” The black voids of his visor peering into you, this was no guard dog at the moment, this was something else. You could feel something was wrong.

“But why must you go? Can’t you take me with you?” You didn’t understand what was going on, because he wasn’t explaining anything.  

He stepped closer to you, but with his helmet on, like that it didn’t feel sweet it felt threatening. “No, I must go alone. It would be best for you to return to your home planet.” So he was shipping you back to your home planet, to do away with you?

“What’s going on? You’re scaring me.” You wanted answers, answers that he never seemed to give you.

You felt them again, inside your mind. You felt the black tendrils forcing themselves to wrap around your brain, stretching, familiarizing themselves with their new home once more.

His voice taking a whole new, unfamiliar tone of harshness with the mask. His hand with an extended finger outstretched towards you, “You will not fight me. You will do as I say when I say it. You will go home to your planet while complete what I must do. Do you understand?” You were being talked down to, like a child but all you could do is nod. Your body involuntarily doing what he asked, were as the small rational part of your brain was struggling to survive. She was losing the battle.

“I will have a ship and the knights escort you back to Earth. Where you will wait for my return.” So that was it, you were a princess being locked away in some tower before your prince in black armor decides to return to you. No more fairytale for you, just the cold harshness of reality.  

He then left you alone, standing there unable to move as the tears fell down your face and the black inky blob in your brain took over. It forced you to sit down while you began to sob, awful ugly tears. All of your hard work was for nothing, as he crushed your dreams in a second.

Your spark, your flame of rationality was loosing against the downpour of black water that was Kylo in your mind.  You blacked out, or you thought you did. When you woke up, you found yourself on board the Steadfast in your old cold and bright chambers. Adlez, Olivia-Rose, and Mitaka were there with you. The black ink creature receding back into the corners of your skull.

You took hold of yourself again. “Where am I?” You knew where you were technically, but your brain wasn’t clicking. How did you get here? You don’t remember a thing.

Adlez had a look of confusion on her face. “You’re onboard the Steadfast , m’lady. We transferred here three days ago. You’ve been with us the whole time.”

You tried to cool your features as panic set in. “Why am I here?” Something was wrong, something was majorly wrong. Why didn’t you remember any of it? The lack of memories for the last few days was terrifying.

“We were to bring you to Earth, the Supreme Leader said that you wanted to visit your family. So that’s why we are headed there. Are you alright m’lady?” Mitaka’s voice was full of concern. You could tell he was able to sense something was wrong and if he could, then Adlez knew something was.

Just as the word No was going to come out of your mouth you felt the black ink creature take hold of your head. “Yes, I’m fine. I just spaced out for a moment that’s all. I think I need to go lie down and rest for a while.” Your body then took you up the stairs, automatically, without your consent. As your head hit the pillow all you saw was darkness, but you heard a voice. His voice. Kylo’s voice.

‘I need to protect you. Let me protect you.’

‘Why are you doing this? You’re hurting me Kylo. You know this!’ The doctor told you as much. He was going to smother the life out of you, for what? You didn’t know.

‘I am protecting you. I do not know what this purpose is yet, therefore you must be protected.’

‘You’re killing me, Kylo. Your killing the part of me that makes me, me!’  You were internally screaming at him now. Crying and begging for him to stop, but the black tendrils only held you tighter.

‘Man serves the interest of no creature except himself, I must do what I need to do to protect you.’ You don’t know what scares you more, the fact that he was doing this or the fact that the voice that he was choosing to speak to you in your mind was that of the mask. He wasn’t even using his own natural voice, this was devoid of emotion.

‘Please… don’t do this.’ You could feel the grasp you had on yourself quickly slipping away. You were losing any control you had and terrifying didn’t even begin to describe it.

‘You are mine.’ While before you thought the mask made him devoid of emotion, this came out as a snarl. The monster was rearing his ugly head in full form.

When you awoke it was like you were staring out of windows, except they were your eyes. You could not move yourself. You could not move your own body. No, he was doing it. You were trapped inside your own mind, watching how the outside world spoke to ‘you’ without it being you.

You realized you were surrounded by dying embers in your own mind, with black rain attempting to wash them away. You were trapped. And your captor was on the other side of the galaxy, claiming to be protecting you, or at least the you that wasn’t you. A man who claimed to love you, but in fact he failed to understand you. The beast, the monster had taken over him, taken over you. But there was no exit that you could see around you, no exit to this nightmare you were about to be forced to witness.

A/N: I even bolded some of the tags you should be concerned with in this chapter. 

Body Confidence Pt 1

So this is sort of a cheat fic, in that I wrote it originally for someone else. But I was watching that (absolutely heartbreaking) video that Courtney Bowman made just after she took the role of Anne when people were being so vile to her. And I thought it’d be interesting to explore an Anne with body image issues.

To be clear though, this fic is in no way implying that Courtney Bowman or anyone else for that matter- bigger or smaller- should or does feel this way about their bodies. I’m not trying to portray Anne’s thinking as right in the slightest- it’s full projection of things I’ve thought (or used to think) about my own body, and written for entertainment. 

Do let me know what you think please please

Especially if you DON’T like it!

TW for distorted body image/ internalised self hatred.

‘Just try it!’

The fatal words. 

Anna holds up a green and black bikini with a friendly smile- ‘This would really suit you, the pattern made me think of that shirt you really like-’- and then the others notice and start urging her on- ‘Go on, just try it!’ ‘You said you needed a swimming costume anyway-’ ‘I bet it looks amazing!’. 

She doesn’t want to be rude and refuse outright- what if they decide she’s boring and ungrateful for their attention and stop inviting her places?

She can hear Catalina’s voice in her head- ‘Of course they like you. But you have to meet them halfway, show that you want to be friends too, don’t just shy away from everyone all the time-’

She’d prefer to actually have Catalina in person over just Catalina’s voice in her head, but Catalina is all the way over in the music department with Maria and Bessie, getting drumsticks and guitar strings.

She’d like to be with them- well, she’d like to be with Catalina, she can take or leave the others, frankly- but it’s not like she needs anything like that herself. 

And she DOES need a swimsuit….

She’d tried to not stare after Catalina too pathetically when Bessie had announced they were going to split off and grab some bits and pieces while the others finished their clothes shopping. It wasn’t like she was being abandoned or anything, she knew that really. 

And it isn’t like she’s so pathetic that she can’t handle hanging out with the other queens on her own.

 (Even if she doesn’t know them that well yet, even if every time she looks at them she wonders whether the words ‘whore’ and ‘witch’ come into their heads when they look at her, even if making lighthearted conversation with them feels like she’s putting on a one-woman show that does not end and does not end and does not end). 

She’s fine really.

Still.

She’d just…..really really like it if Catalina was there.

‘What do you think?’

‘Do you like it?’

‘It’s...nice-’

She’s not lying- it IS objectively a nice bikini. She’d even like it because of the colour and pattern- Anna’s right, it’s very much the sort of thing she’d wear usually- if it wasn’t for the fact that it was a bikini.

And she doesn’t wear bikinis.

Honestly, she doesn’t even like the idea of wearing one-piece swimsuits- she’s covered up with a shirt and shorts on the couple of trips they’ve made to the beach, and even though it had meant that both had gotten soaked through, it had been fine. 

A bikini though….. Is different. Nowhere to hide.

‘We could find you a different one if you don’t like it- Kitty offers. ‘They have all different styles-’ 

(Her cousin- so sweet and so obviously eager to make a connection and so oblivious to the facts that gnaw at her every night when she’s supposed to be asleep- that if she hadn’t soured Henry to Boleyn girls, to Howard girls first, Kitty might never have died the way she did.  If she hadn’t whetted his appetite for bloodshed, so to speak. Kitty acts as if she doesn’t hold this against Anne, as if she hasn’t even considered it, and this makes it worse, because she dreads the moment that Kitty puts two and two together.)

‘No, I do like this one-’ At least if she has to try one on, it should be one she likes the colour of. And she does have to try one on- she owes Kitty these small favours at least.

‘Great!’ Cathy is almost bouncing with excitement, and there’s a touch of pathos to it, how badly she obviously wants them all to be happy together, how badly she wants them all to be able to put aside their differences. 

Not that Anne is in any position to judge.

 ‘You should definitely try it on then! I bet you’ll look amazing!’

It’s hard to smile back at Cathy- she knows she’ll probably look many things in the bikini but amazing is probably not one of them. 

Still….she also doesn’t quite know how to say no without sounding really boring and maybe a bit of a bitch.

Reluctantly, she takes the hanger and lets them sweep her away to the fitting rooms.

Maybe it won’t be so bad, she tells herself. Maybe it’ll be fine.

The minute the last of her clothes come off and she feels the cold air on her bare skin, she regrets it. She tries not to look at herself in the mirror but of course she does, there’s no avoiding it. 

The harsh fluorescent light somehow makes her look faded.  Her hair is a mess (and she’s seriously regretting not having washed it before she came out) and her body looks…..just wrong. 

Soft in the wrong places. 

Silvery lines running up and down her thighs and hips like scars, and then the thick ugly line beneath her choker.

 It’s all wrong. She’s all wrong.

Why did she ever think this would be ok?

‘Anne? Show us!’

The others, oblivious to her growing distress, are giggling on the other side of the curtain.

‘What’s it like?’

‘Come out!’

‘Stop-’ It’s too quiet for them to hear, it’s a whisper, a prayer.

‘Hurry up Anne!’

But no one ever heard her prayers before.

‘We want to see!’

‘Please stop-’

They can’t hear her, and her throat is suddenly too tight for her to be any louder.

Then Jane’s voice, above the others: ‘Anne? Are you changed?’

(She isn’t sure if there’s actually a touch of impatience whenever Jane talks to her or if she’s imagining it. It’s hard to tell.)

She can’t reply.

‘Anne-?’ Suddenly there’s a tinge of worry in Kitty’s voice. ‘Are you ok in there?’

She can’t let them worry, she can’t let this turn into more of a thing than it already is.

(She was known for enjoying attention at court- she counted it as a skill, that she was able to make even very mundane things look interesting to an outsider simply because of how she reacted to them. It drew people in, it made them wonder how they could acquire her zest for living. She enjoyed the attention until she knew better- and by then it was too late. She’s warier now.)

‘Y-yeah-’

Her voice sounds rough and overly loud but they don’t seem to pick up on it.

‘Are you changed?’

‘.....Yes-’

‘Ooh the big reveal!’ Kitty giggles and Cathy announces that she’s going to count to three.

‘One!’

‘Please don’t-’ She’s too quiet, she knows they can’t hear, but she still pleads, quietly, to no one. 

(No one ever heard her beg, they never heard her plead. They called her self possessed.)

‘Two!’

Catalina would hear, she thinks. Somehow, Catalina would hear.

‘Three!’

The curtain is jerked back and she can’t help herself- she covers herself with her arms as much as she can and hunches over on herself to cover her stomach. It’s an unthinking, instinctive reaction to being nearly-naked in front of people- but even so, she knows that more of her is on show than any of the others have seen before.

There’s a silence.

The giggles drop off abruptly, the smile slides from Kitty’s face.

They’re all staring at her.

Of course they’re staring. Why wouldn’t they? They’re probably horrified- horrified and relieved that they are not like her, that their own bodies- through hard work or genetics or sheer luck- are different to hers.

They’re probably disgusted.

The silence stretches longer and longer until she can’t bear it a second longer- she grabs for the curtain (humiliatingly, it actually takes her a couple of attempts) and rips it across the rail. 

It’s not as satisfying as slamming a door would be but at least she’s hidden from their eyes,

She sinks down to the scratchy carpet, draws her knees up to her chest and buries her head in her arms. 

Even doing so, she’s aware of herself, of the softness of her body, of there just being more of her.

 (Too much. Too much of her.)

Warm tears slide down her cheeks and drip onto her bare exposed skin.

She’d like to disappear, to shrivel up entirely, for there to be nothing left behind when the curtain gets pulled back again. 

Nan Bullen, the girl who died of embarrassment.

There are whispers outside the curtain, but she doesn’t let herself listen. She doesn’t want to hear their jibes and she definitely doesn’t want to hear their pity.

Her position isn’t comfortable and she’s glad of it. She wants her body to hurt, to ache, to bleed- she wants to punish it for being wrong. Digging her nails into the soft skin of her stomach, she imagines tearing off handfuls of flesh, until she’s as small as the rest of them, until she’s the right size-

A sob nearly chokes her and she presses her fingers to her stinging eyes.

She doesn’t want to be here.

She doesn’t want to be anywhere.

Bucky’s Secret Life

Bucky x Reader

Warning: Language, smut, filming, slight daddy kink, slight orgasm denial

Word Count: 2,460

Summary: The team notices Bucky sneaking off the compound every weekend. Now they’re standing outside of an apartment in Brooklyn with Redwing spying in the window.

 "C'mon, aren't you a little curious?"

Steve huffed and rolled his eyes at Tony nudged him. Bucky had been a little stranger than usual. If they didn't have a mission he was leaving in the evenings on Friday. Coming home Sunday afternoon. This was a weekly basis kind of thing.

When Steve did ask him about it, he froze up not wanting to give any details. It was killing Sam because he was nosy. Natasha was even curious. Wanda knew of everything but kept her mouth shut. She couldn't always control what she saw, but after seeing what had been going on in his head she didn't feel right telling anyone else. Because what she saw was filthy. Absolutely filthy. As the images suddenly flashed into her mind of what was going on in Bucky's, the images of him and always the same naked women doing things you'd normally only see in porn was none of her business. 

"Why don't we just mind our own business," Bruce suggested. "Bucky's been through a lot." "Bruce is right," Steve said. "Is he, though?" Natasha replied. "What if he's doing something dangerous. He could still be having Winter Solider issues." "True," Rhodey gave his input from his spot beside Tony. "It'd be dangerous to not at least make sure." Steve groaned. "Fine."

So, Tony, Natasha, Sam, and a very reluctant Steve followed him the next weekend. They’d used Friday to tell them when Bucky had left and then made their move soon after. Sam used Red Wing to keep up with him with what they couldn't. 

"Guys, Bruce is right. We should leave it alone," Steve said as they finally ended outside of an apartment building in Brooklyn. "No. We're here let's do this," Sam said as they waited for someone to come out of the building.

Bucky had placed his hands underneath your ass, balancing himself as he rammed into you. Your hands splayed above your head as you took it. For someone who literally couldn't get drunk, he found it so intoxicating the way her breasts bounced with each thrust. He couldn't help himself as he leaned down to capture a nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the nub. She could feel herself so close, but she wasn't allowed to cum without permission and she wasn't in the mood for punishment.

Dinner had been abandoned. He couldn't wait any longer to have her pussy wrapped around his dick. They were planning on having a romantic evening with a home-cooked meal like they usually did on Friday nights, whereas Saturday's were spent ordering takeout and catching up on shows on whatever show they wanted to binge-watch together. It had all become a routine unless he was busy with work. 

It sucked that it felt like they'd never get a life outside of this apartment, but Bucky only needed a little bit longer. Just so he could make sure nothing from his world could hurt her. He'd seen too many romances end in tragedy and that's what scared him the most. His cock was stretching her wide open. "Fuck me, Daddy," she moaned, raising up to wrap her arms around his neck and press her lips to his. He doesn't let up as he lets her fall onto her back. Moving his hands from her ass so his arms wrapped around the back of her legs bringing her knees up to her chest. He was so much deeper in this angle. Her head was swimming as she moaned into his ear, throwing her head back. "God, yes!" "That's it, Baby," he moaned, leaning down to kiss her again. His tongue was in her mouth showing dominance even in that. She loved it. Feeling like he owned every inch of her. The knock on the door brought them out of their bubble. Bucky didn't let up as he continued to fuck her, trying his hardest to at least make his girl cum first. Whoever was on the other end could wait. "Ignore it," he said into her ear. She nodded, feeling to blissed-out to do anything, but exactly what he told her. She was so close. The way she tightened around him. Her pussy hugging his cock like it was afraid to let it go. She whined as her pussy juices seeped out of her. "Can I cum?" She whimpered out. "Yeah, Baby." He managed to grin through the pleasure. She was so cute even like this. All spread open taking every inch with those noises coming out of her mouth, biting her lip, with her eyes rolling into the back of her head. As she cried out, hips moving to meet his thrusts, that coil finally snapping in her stomach as she found herself orgasming over his thick cock. Metal hand tangling in her hair as her fingers came to scratch along his muscular back. He was determined to make her cum again, except there was another knock on the door. This one louder, angrier. Bucky groaned, irritated at whoever was interrupting their pleasure. "Fuck," he mouthed jaw clenching. "I'll get it. You stay right here, okay." She nodded unable to use her words as he pulled out of her. He covered her with the duvet, kissing her forehead lovingly as if he wasn't just fucking her into the mattress. Bucky slid on a pair of the sweats he kept at her apartment - because although you two spent most of the time naked it was really convenient for him to leave things - there and the long-sleeved shirt he'd been wearing before. Her head rested on the pillow as she watched him walk through the door with half-lidded eyes. A dopey smile spread on her face as she snuggled under the covers, waiting for him to come back to her. Bucky looked through the peephole, then backed up seeing Steve on the other side. "What the fuck..." "Bucky, c'mon, we know you're in there," Steve said, through the door. "We..." he frowned before opening the door, but not undoing the chain. He could peek out just enough to see Natasha was there beside him with Sam and Tony behind them. "What are you guys doing here?" Tony rolled his eyes. "Just let us in." He groaned before rubbing the bridge of his nose. "You guys should leave." "We're just making sure you're okay," Nat said, trying to peek passed him. "Gotta make sure you aren't doing something dumb," Sam said. "We were worried," she added. Bucky frowned. "Worried for what?" Just then Y/N screamed in the other room. Bucky's heart dropped as he ran back into the room, seeing his girlfriend standing up with a throw blanket over her body. "What is it?" He asked not seeing anything that should have set her off. "There's something in the window," she breathed, now standing behind him for cover. Surely, whatever it was her solider serum, metal armed boyfriend could take care of it.

Bucky threw Red Wing out the door, glaring at Sam whose jaw had dropped. "Sam, what the hell!"

"Who was that?" Natasha asked. "My girlfriend! I've been seeing someone! Is that a crime!" He threw his hands up. "I didn't realize I needed your permission to date!" Steve raised his eyebrows and sighed. "See I told you guys this was stupid." "I was honestly so sure you were being brainwashed again," Tony said with a sigh, not really sure if he was relieved or disappointed. "It's not his brain being washed," Sam said with a smirk, then frowning down at Red Wing. Bucky wanted to punch him. "Baby, is everything okay?" She asked walking into the living room with wobbly legs after hearing her boyfriend raise his voice. She'd slipped on the matching sweatshirt to his sweatpants. It was baggy and hit her mid-thigh and god she better at least be wearing panties under there or else he'd have to worry about punishing her later along with cussing his friends out when he got home for not respecting his privacy. "Yeah, Doll, they were just leaving." His face softened. Although she'd seen him in a dominating way, she'd never seen him genuinely angry. Even the few arguments they had he would never raise his voice. He was so afraid of scaring her that he softened himself. So, with her being an inch away from him he felt like he had to show a little restraint now. "So, this is her!" Sam asked, surprised as hell at seeing that Bucky really was hiding a girlfriend. "Hi, I'm Sam and you are?" "Y/N," she replied, politely, offering up a small smile. As soon as she saw his friends she wanted to run and hide. She probably looked like shit after everything Bucky had just done to her. "I'm Steve, this is Natasha and Tony," the blonde motioned to the other two who were staring with their mouths dropped open with his head. He'd never seen Tony speechless before, but there he was. Quiet as a mouse. All because the tin man actually had a girlfriend. A cute girlfriend at that. "Doll, why don't you go wait for me in your room," Bucky said. "I'll be there in a minute." "Okay, Baby," she said, pecking his cheek before she did as she was told. He stared her way, making sure she got in the room before opening his mouth again. "Now will you guys leave. I'll deal with you all when I get home." They grumbled as they all began to walk away except for Steve who glanced at the trio as they started to make their way down the hall. "Sorry about this, Pal. I told them to leave you alone, but you know how they can be." "It's fine." He sighed. "I was just hoping to keep her all to myself for a little while." "She seems nice," he said to his friend. "She's amazing." "I'm glad to see you happy." Steve couldn't help, but smile. After seeing all of the shit Bucky had been through it was nice to see him back to his old self. Or at least making progress with this new life. "Yeah she makes me really happy," he said, glancing towards the room once more. The two finally said their goodbyes and Bucky finally got to shut the door. He went back to finish what he'd started with his girlfriend, making sure to check if she'd at least slipped panties on before coming to greet his friends. He knew she could be a little tease like that and needed to put her in her place. Steve jogged to catch up to his three nosey teammates who were almost out of the entrance of the building. He really was happy for his friend. Bucky deserved someone that made him happy.

As they made it back home, Sam decided to review the footage from Red Wing they'd gotten after tracking Bucky. At first, it was just the general views of him walking down the street until he walked down into the subway. "Man, this shit is so boring," he said from his seat at the kitchen table.

Steve looked up at him, peeking over, but shrugged as he only saw the footage of Bucky walking around. "Now that we know what's going, you might as well delete it." Sam fast-forwarded it when it finally found his friend, continuing to follow him until he was at the apartment building to punch the code in to be let in. "I dunno, it's kind of funny to see Bucky walking around like a normal person." "And, he never noticed Redwing?" Steve asked as Natasha sat across for him. "That's kind of weird. I thought he'd be more aware of his surroundings." He shrugged. "Clearly no-" he stopped speaking as he saw what the camera was now focused on. "We should probably talk to him about that," Natasha said, taking a bit of the protein bar she'd just gotten. "We should invite her here, though. It'd be nice to have another girl around." Sam's mouth went straight-lined as his eyes widened watching as the women he'd only met about two hours ago had got on her knees with Bucky's metal hand tangled in her hair and her nose almost to his pelvis. He pulled her off, revealing how deep he'd been in her throat before forcing her back down. "What is it?" Steve asked, noticing how quickly Sam went quiet and looked up from his own laptop. Natasha leaned over to take a peek at Sam's screen, just as he'd pulled her off of him and smacked her butt as she bent over on the bed. "What the... Sam! Delete it!" She gasped, seeing Bucky impale his new girlfriend on his cock, grabbing Y/N's ponytail with his metal hand and smacking her ass once again with his flesh hand. The woman was clearly enjoying it as she noticeably bounced back against him, arching her back to take him fully. "I'm trying! It's not letting me!" "What is it?" Steve asked, now looking himself, seeing the women they'd barely met letting his best friend fuck her with wild abandon. Bucky was saying something that they couldn't make out, but with the way he stopped moving as she continued to buck back, it must have been filthy. "Man, what the hell!" "I didn't know!" "Make sure it all gets deleted." Steve was exhausted. If they had listened to him in the first place, none of this would have happened. "I'm trying!" He countered back, now pressing different buttons on the screen. "It's kinda hot, though. I wasn't expecting Bucky to be like this." "What were you expecting?" Sam asked stopping to look at Natasha with his face scrunched up. He'd never thought he'd see the world's greatest spy blush, but there she was. Her cheeks turning the same color as her hair. "I don't know actually. I haven't thought about him like that since the red room." "Wait, what?" Both Steve and Sam said as Natasha walked away as if she hadn't just said something like that. Or like she hadn't just seen footage of Bucky fucking this girl raw. "What'd you guys f-" Tony asked, right when Bucky had turned Y/N onto her back, putting his hands under her ass and leaning down to take a nipple into his mouth. "What... the fuck... actually... wow..." "I know. I think I might ask Bucky if she has a sister or something." "All of you are monsters," Steve said, shaking his head. Although he was a little intrigue he could at least show some restraint. "Make sure it gets deleted." "Yeah, yeah, yeah," Sam said, with a sigh. Tony pouted and groaned. "Captain fun sucker."

this is probably slightly self indulgent lol but as someone who is more often than not, not a huge fan of their naked body, just some like body worship helps a lot tbh? i know it’s SINday but just hearing some gentle praise from flip would be so cute i bet

Hey the whole reader insert community is, in my opinion, self indulgent! Don’t worry about that

And not to go off on a bit of a tangent, but I completely understand what it’s like to not really like your naked body. I have a lot of body image issues, and truthfully, I can’t really look at myself for too long without spiraling. But one of the best things that’s helped me has been spending time with myself wearing absolutely nothing. 

I know it’s different for everyone, but just the act of being naked and getting used to the fact that I can be naked without anyone’s permission, that I can just have a body and exist in it, has been one of the most freeing things for me, as someone who has suffered (and still suffers) through incredibly strong dysphoria and all sorts of other things that I won’t get into right now, because really you asked for Flip being perfect, not me telling you all my issues, but just know that spending time to get used to yourself and the way you exist in this world can be so beneficial. 

It’s your body, and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with it, it’s beautiful and wonderful because it’s yours

Okay tangent aside, please accept these headcanons for Flip praising you and worshipping your body: 

He’s always in awe of you, of the shape that your body takes. 

He’ll hold you close but sweetly, reverent.

“I can’t believe all this is mine,” He’ll breathe into the soft spots on your jaw, your shoulders, your stomach. 

“I get to see all this.” 

He kisses every inch of you. Your face and chest, yes, but everywhere else too. 

Your arms, right down to your fingertips. Your legs right down to the arch of your foot. 

He presses his fingers into your flesh, grabs handfuls of you and presses his cheek against your skin, whispers words you can’t really hear. 

It tickles, it always tickles, because his touch is so feather light when he’s like this, not wanting to be rough or hurt you, he knows how you feel and he wants this to be a time to make you feel good about yourself, about everything 

He’s incredible possessive, especially outside the bedroom. 

When you’re out and about he’ll compliment you, not just ‘your ass looks great baby,’ but sweet things, like ‘i love the slope of your shoulders,’ and ‘your nose looks so cute in this light.’ 

All of it makes you blush, and even after he says all these things so many times, you still blush, still find yourself so in love with him, and how he’s so in love with you and your body. 

Hannibal x reader - Scarlet

I shouldn’t be writing anything new without finishing all my WIPs but here we are, this just came out

Warnings: Dark af, d/s vibes, smut and sexual thoughts, brief mention of blood.

Summary: You’re seeing a psychiatrist, Dr Lecter for your issues with sex, loneliness and hyperfixatons. Will he be your cure, or have you just met the man who will only make things worse?

He eats you up. This man this...force of nature that is Hannibal. You never thought real life people could be so interesting. Most people aren’t, but him? He’s cultured, he knows about wine, food, classical music, classic literature...fuck...even listing it makes you horny. Rather a large problem then that he intimidates you so, that you feel like a complete idiot around him. That he makes you clumsy, stutter, lost for words. That he’s your fucking therapist.

Forbidden, you see and all the more tempting for it. Like the ripest apple just out of reach. And yes you’re comparing yourself to Eve, although Jezebel is more fitting. Hannibal is no Adam. Some days he’s the devil (your devil), other times he’s an angel, or how you picture angels anyway. Tall and big and terrifying. Awe inspiring even. Makes you cross yourself before you enter his office, makes you cross your legs when you hold his gaze just a little too long.

You never wanted to be so wholly consumed before. Your obsession (for that is what it is) is serious. You want to lie down on the floor and just let him...what do you want? For him to walk on you? Crush you? Or just lay down and cover you with his body, let you no longer feel, or see, or speak, just the sweet blackness of oblivion, just so you don’t have to feel this painful want anymore.

“I want you inside me” you tell him one day and see the flash of surprise in his eyes before the mask descends. What you wouldn’t give to see it fall completely, see him weakened by desire, made wordless with sensation- moaning as you touch his skin, proving he’s human after all.

“What you think you want and what you actually need are two different things” he replies, glancing down at his notepad a few moments too long. Your gaze falls to where his fingers grasp his pen, knuckles turning white, the pads of his fingers slipping over the nib.

“Explain.” you say shortly,

“You’ve found a confidant in me…” Hannibal continues, smoother now that he’s back on his psychiatrist track. “A connection, a kinship. Your instincts are sexual because you want to control this relationship. But I’m telling you, you can’t.”

“How does turning things sexual mean I’m in control?” you tilt your chin up as a clue, you want to submit to him more than anything.

Hannibal’s eyes follow to curve of your neck. “I would show myself to you- naked and vulnerable. I would lose my position of trust, of detachment. It would be an abuse of power. “ His tone is calm, steady, but he almost sounds like he’s considering the idea.

Leaning forward,  “How about if I promise to let you take control? Just as we are here, I’ll still be your patient, I’ll follow where you lead.”

He sighs, a deep, shuddering noise. You feel the warm caress of his breath on your face. “I want to help you more than I want to….possess you.”

“It hurts Hannibal, it’s all empty and I can’t get out…” you gesture, words failing you.

Hannibal frowns, a doctor after all cannot ignore someone is pain. “I have an assignment for you. Go without sex for a week, do not touch yourself, no dirty thoughts, no porn, no...erotic literature, until you see me again, think you can do that?”

Smiling, you tilt your head, an attempt at flirting. “Probably not.”

He leans forward then, fixing you with a stern, dark gaze. “You will do it (Y/N). Send me updates, you have my number. If you’re feeling desperate I want you to identify it. We’ll use a code word- scarlet, let’s say…if you use that word I’ll know you’ve failed your task. That you’re thinking...about sex.”

It’s the hardest week of your life, but in searching for things to fill the void you are productive - taking on extra tasks at work, meeting friends. It’s the evenings that are hardest, when you’re alone and your thoughts stray to Hannibal - craving to immerse yourself in fantasies of him. You drive to the grocery store and buy ingredients to make a meal from scratch. You ignore the glances from the lone men in the liquor aisles. Not today Satan.

At home, you prepare your work surface and begin to chop the vegetables, getting into an almost meditative rhythm. A blackbird squawks outside and your hand slips, the knife slices into your finger and blood is everywhere. You patch yourself up feeling wounded, betrayed. The meal abandoned you grab some popcorn and sit, self-pitying in front of Netflix until your heart lightens slightly.

Remembering your assignment you message your therapist. You have him saved under ‘Dr Lecter’. Keeping him at a distance while wanting him closer than anyone else. 

Took a walk today but now feeling sorry for myself on the couch.

The reply comes swiftly; A walk is a very beneficial.

It’s not enough, it’s never enough, so you take a deep breath and raise the phone to your face, snapping a photo.

I cut myself- ouch! You caption it, holding your bandaged finger up for Hannibal to see, a pout jutting out your bottom lip, your eyes wider and innocent. The perfect image of a vulnerable, needy damsel in distress.

You see the bubbles forming on the screen to show Hannibal is typing a reply, then they disappear.

“Fuck it.” you drop your phone on the couch and let your hand drift down to the waistband of your sweatpants. Closing your eyes you let your mind swim with a kaleidoscope of images. Hannibal shoving you up against the wall of his office, biting your neck, pushing you down as he sits in his chair, on your knees looking up as though praying. You imagine his mouth - thin and cruel yet soft on your skin, his large hands at your throat, on your breasts... perhaps he’d even bend you over his desk. In all of your fantasies he is fully dressed, either in his suit or in the waistcoat with his shirt sleeves rolled up. You cannot seem to conjure of the image of him naked. Not yet.

A message tone interrupts your reverie.

It’s beneficial to lick your wounds.

Staring at the phone you think you’re still in your imagination. Could Hannibal have really…? Emboldened by your desperation you take the bandage off your finger and suck it into your mouth as you take another photo and send it before you can second guess your actions.

When the reply comes you see yourself, cheeks hollowed and eyes full of lust, the finger in your mouth a perfect approximation of another phallic object you’d rather feel against your tongue.

His message is one word, but you resume touching yourself and your orgasm hits you like a wave as you read it, let the meaning and hope of it wash over you.

Scarlet.

You think either Tommy or Billy would of ever "walked in" on their parents?

Oh yes, of course. :D Hope you enjoy this way more than Tommy does.

They’d been on the road just long enough for Tommy’s fingers to grow restless, so about five minutes, give or take. Billy’s music choice is awful, far too angsty and coffee-house vibey for his tastes and he drives way too slow. But given Tommy got a speeding ticket his first week with his license, the parental units deemed him to always be the passenger. Five minutes, roughly, is also just long enough for his mind to finally catch up with his mouth. “Oh shit.” Tommy bolts upright and swats at his brother’s arm “Hey.” Nothing. Apparently his grumbling about having to spend the weekend watching Billy get all doe-eyed around Teddy really got to him. So Tommy hits his brother harder, “Hey.”

A sharp “What?”comes with Billy’s attempt at a steely side-eye.

“You grab mom’s sleeping bag?”

The car rolls to a stop at an intersection and Billy’s steeliness gives way to a pointed disbelief, one that says in big flashing letters you’re an idiot. “You told dad you grabbed it.”

He did, about four times because he was tired of the endless questions about their packing. It’s a three day camping trip and yet dad had a list long enough to survive a month in the wilderness. They aren’t even going far into the mountains, he checked, there’s a Walmart like fifteen minutes from their campsite. “Well…I didn’t actually grab it because  I thought you did.” Which is a lie but he hates the self-satisfaction that oozes onto Billy’s face whenever he fucks up.

“Well, guess I’ll be warm since I actually grabbed mine.”

“Congratulations.” Billy grins and continues driving, as if everything is solved, but it’s not. It’s going to be negative five or some disgustingly cold temperature and mom’s sleeping bag is one of those expensive thermal ones that makes her look like a mummy in a sarcophagus. Dad got it for her like three years ago for Mother’s Day and Tommy would prefer not to freeze his ass off for a training trip led by Uncle Sam (which he never realized until now how fitting it is that Sam’s been tapped to take over the shield, what a perfect name for America’s hero), “We could run back, right?”

Billy shakes his head, hands gripping the steering wheel tight enough for his knuckles to turn white. “No, we’re already late picking up Cassie and I don’t want to run laps around the lake.” Sam’s favorite punishment for the sin of tardiness.

“It’s not that big of a lake.”  It’s not, it’s maybe a mile around and Tommy has no issue running it and it’s not his fault his brother’s endurance isn’t great. “You just have spaghetti legs.” Billy’s face hardens even more, almost statuesque though no one would want to carve a statue of that face. A different tactic might be more fitting. “Fine, then I’m telling Sam about how Teddy’s going to find his way into your sleeping bag.”

They pull up to Cassie’s house but his brother doesn’t move beyond a slight twist of his waist to measure up how serious Tommy is being. Tommy flashes him a beaming, genuine, certified Maximoff shit-eating grin. The deep sigh out Billy’s nostrils is the surest sign that he’s about to cave. “Fine.”

“Hey, you just going to sit out here like creeps?”  Cassie opens the back door and throws her duffel bag in, sliding into the seat with a smile that fades at the tension in the car. “If you two are fighting, it better end in this car, I’m not dealing with it all weekend.”

Billy’s voice doesn’t do anything to ease her concern, his, “We have to swing by our house again,” flat and unimpressed.

“Come on, I’m not doing laps.”

“It’s me, I’ll be fast.” Tommy does his best to eschew the concerns of both people, which has marginal success, the drive back to their house silent minus Billy’s poor taste in music.

When they pull into the driveway, Billy parks the car and stays buckled, turning expectant eyes to Tommy, “You know where it is, right?”

“Yes?”

“Seriously? Dad told you like fifteen times.”

The rest of the camping gear was in the garage, but Tommy feels like he would have remembered it had it been in the same crate as the freeze-dried rations dad insisted he pack. “Not the garage…”  Billy stares at him, flabbergasted by the utter failure of the plan but given the sheer amount of information being thrown at them, how was he to remember everything? “We’ll be less likely to run laps if you help me out.”

Billy rolls his eyes with another nasally exhale, “It’s in their closet. Dad moved it there when the garage flooded last year.”

Which sounds vaguely familiar and, though he won’t admit it out loud, Billy tends to have the better memory for useless information, so he’s probably right. “Okay. Try not to miss me.”

His brother’s, “We won’t” fades into the background as Tommy sprints out of the car and up to the wrap-around porch, slowing down long enough to open the door with a friendly, “Did you miss me?” There’s no response, the lights out except the one above the stove, the one they always leave on when out of town. A note is stuck under the flower vase in the entryway, telling Rhodes which plants to water and how often. It seems they didn’t waste any time in leaving, going off on some romantic getaway while he and Billy are gone for the weekend. Which, good for them, he supposes, but they’re always unbearable after trips like this, ratcheting up their touchy-feely-ness to nauseating levels.

Tommy races up the stairs and down the hall, stopping long enough to stare at the closed door of the master bedroom. He reaches for the doorknob and then grins, realizing there is no one around to caution him against trying his hand at walking through walls, mom never happy when she has to send dad in to rescue him when he gets stuck. The closet is on the other side of his own bathroom, so Tommy jogs down the hall and positions himself in front of the wall, crouched and ready for impact as he bends at the waist. He centralizes his powers in his chest, building up the speeding molecules of his body, an action apparently similar to what his dad does, and once he feels as if his nose might fall off from the vibrations in his muscles, he steps towards the wall, his molecules discombobulated enough that he simply slips right through and into the dark closet. “Fucking nailed it.” There’s also no one around to police his language, really he feels like maybe he’ll just stay home for the weekend, let Billy go to the training, and just enjoy the house to himself. If only he wouldn’t be written up and reported to his parents.

A tug to a chain lights up the closet enough for him to find the sleeping bag nestled between two boxes on the second shelf. As he tucks the bag under his arm, the sound of a low, muffled voice comes through the door. His heart races as he, for once in his life, stands absolutely still. There’s a creak and it can’t be from him, neither can the thud of something hitting the floor or the line of unintelligible words that follow.  Tommy weighs his options, certain there’s a burglar in their house, probably because someone posted about their trip on instagram (not that he’s pointing fingers but he wouldn’t be surprised if it was Teddy). Still, breaking into an Avenger household takes balls and he’s torn between doing the “responsible” thing and leaving to get backup (i.e. Cassie and Billy), or doing the heroic thing and taking down these assholes now.  

There’s no question that he’s a hero, which leaves only one course of action.

Tommy places the sleeping bag down and pulls his goggles from his back pocket, affixing them to his face with a satisfying snap.  On the mental count of three, he turns the door handle and barges into the room with a, “You chose the wrong house you motherfuc…” but the heroic quip trails off as he takes in the surprised faces of the burglars, who are not as unwelcome in the house as he thought. “No…no…”

“Tommy!”   “Thomas?”

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, fuck (no, not that word, not that word) no, no, no. It’s the only refrain in his mind as his feet carry him out of the room, down the stairs, and through the car door, not caring at Billy’s angry, “What the hell?!”

“Get it out,” Tommy’s hands shake in his lap and he can’t decide if he should keep his eyes open or close them, both options filled with the image of his parents, “get it out of my head,” naked, very very naked, not even a sheet tastefully placed like it is in the movies, “get it out of my head, Billy,” he dry heaves at the knowledge he now has, of confirming the internet rumors of how the Scarlet Witch is a top and he really never ever wanted to solve that mystery, “please.”

“Get what out?”

Now his brother’s voice is concerned, as it should be. “Mom and dad,” is it overkill to cry? Because he feels like crying, like a piece of his soul might have died and he will never get it back. “Were hav- were having…” he can’t say the word, “and using powers, I,” Kate and Cassie like to tell them about the most outrageously explicit and disgusting things Avengers’ fans write about their parents and sadly, he now knows some of them are right, “I want you to erase my memory and gouge out my eyes.”

There’s a knock on his window and Tommy almost screams, sinking lower into his seat at the concerned frowns of their parents outside the car, both, thankfully, fully clothed, though mom’s hair is far messier than usual. Billy, the traitor, rolls down the window. “We forgot the sleeping bag.”

“Yes, here it is,” dad hands the sleeping bag through the window, and Tommy grips it to his chest, hugging it close while keeping his gaze averted, not sure he can look either of them in the eye. “Thomas,” dad’s trying his most fatherly voice but it won’t get Tommy to stop staring at the stain on his shoe, “we understand you are likely uncomfortable with what you just witnessed,” this seems to shift the atmosphere of the car, Cassie biting back a laugh while Billy’s face grows dismayed, “but you should also be aware that sex,” now Billy’s a ghost, just like him,  “for many couples, is an important, fun, and highly satisfying part of a relationship. Something we hope you one day experience as well, if that is what you want. ” What he wants is to die, right here right now, let God or Thor or whoever up there controls lightning to strike him down before this conversation keeps going. “Your mother and I were too absorbed in enjoying ourselves and did not hear you come in.” That’s it, he’s an atheist now, because no loving deity would let him live through this.

Out of the corner of his eye he can see his mom run her hand up dad’s arm, which only brings the image back to his mind. Thankfully, she doesn’t continue the conversation, at least not in the direction it was going. “What were you doing in our closet?”

Being an idiot and he vows to never walk through a wall again. “Just, um, getting the sleeping bag.”

“You know, Mr. and Mrs. Maximoff,” Cassie is an angel, a thoroughly entertained and devious angel who will lob this at him every chance she gets this weekend, but he’s not picky right now if it saves him in the moment, “we should probably leave, don’t want to be punished for being tardy.”

This seems to go over well, a sense of dad nodding his head in understanding. “Yes, you should not be delinquent for your trip.” Billy starts to shift the car into drive, but stops when dad bends down, his brow furrowed around the Mindstone and voice annoyingly calm, “I believe when you all get back, we should perhaps sit down to speak more on this issue, given you likely have many more questions now that you have begun pursuing romantic relationships.”

“Oh, goodie.” Tommy sends a thumbs up and then rolls up the window, waiting until they are down the street before he screams into the sleeping bag.

SKIN

Pairing: Bill Skarsgard x Reader Words: 1989 Request: Can you make one where i am insecure of my body and mostly my chest and i am secretly planning a breast surgery and bill doesn’t know and he loves me how i am and one day he finds papers of the surgery and when i come home from friends or stuff he gets mad at me and he shows me the papers and i want to explain but he just walks off and later on he comes home and i explain and it hurts him and he tells me he loves me how i am and we make love and in the end its all cute? ^^ ​(@kellysimagines)

Warnings: Self image issues, self hate, a lil bit of smut and Bill being a small ball of fluff

Your gaze was lost among the papers scattered over the coffee table. You were looking at them but truly saw nothing, your mind lost in thoughts. You were supposed to feel happy, if you were about to change something you disliked bout yourself. Disliked --- more like hated. Ever since you were a teenager and your friends’ breasts started to show while yours stayed practically the same, you had hated them. You looked in the mirror and never liked what you saw, every piece of clothing you wore seemed to look bad on you only because of it.

It had taken you years to make the decision. But now it was a reality, you were going to do it. With a huff, you got up and grabbed your purse, heading outside for a walk to clear your mind. You visualized yourself as the morning light illuminated you. You didn't need them to be too big, you only wanted them to be big enough to look good. You would feel better, and you were sure your boyfriend would like you more as well. Bill had never said anything bad about your body, no. He was exceptionally sweet, and would never hurt you on purpose. But you saw it in his eyes. Every time you made love, you saw how his green irises always got glued to your chest, wishing there was something else there, something more. You were sure he would be pleased with your decision. All men liked them big, didn't they?

The breast surgery was a good idea. Yes, it was. It had to be.

But for some reason, you were feeling like shit as you walked back home. You opened the door with a sigh and thought about watching some Netflix to forget about it all for a while. But you didn't have a chance, seeing the slim figure of your boyfriend in the living room, going through the hospital papers as you walked in. When he turned around, you froze. His eyes were wide, his cheeks were red. You knew that expression, he was angry.

“W-what's wrong?” You murmured, taking one careful step forward, but stopping again when he pursed his lips. He was so tall, he could be intimidating when he was angry, specially because he was never angry at you. You discussed from time to time, of course, but he never looked at you like that. You heart started bumping harder.

“What's wrong?” He repeated, his voice shaky. “What the fuck is wrong?!” His voice became louder as he threw the papers aside, violently. You cringed, taken aback by his behavior which was not proper of Bill. “A surgery? Really? When were you gonna tell me this?”

A couple of strides were enough for him to reach you and you raised your head to look at him. He was your boyfriend and he could not treat you like this. “I was going to tell you, but I – I wanted to find the right time.”

He scoffed, shaking his head, as he walked past you. “Maybe the right time would've been before you signed those papers, hm?”

“Bill --”

You jumped slightly at the sound of the door slamming shut, and turned around to see he had left. Great. I fucked up again. The knot on your throat only got bigger as you picked up the papers from the floor. As if a switch had been turned, in the moment you sat on the couch a sob shook you, and tears started streaming down your face. He didn't even give you the chance to explain to him, to make him see why you had taken such a drastic decision. He had stormed off just like that, and left you alone in the moment you needed him the most.

In some moment, you fell asleep. Guilt, shame and anger rushed through you in waves. You knew damn well you should have talked this out with him before. But telling him about your insecurities made you feel so anxious you didn't even want to think about it. It was almost as if talking about it would make it more evident, even more important, it would make him hate your breasts as much as you did. But you didn't choose to feel like this about your body – you wish you could be one of those girls who were happy in their own skin and enjoyed the way nature made them, but you were not like them.

You didn't wake up when the door opened, and silent steps were taken towards you. Asleep on the couch, curled up and peaceful, you seemed like an angel to Bill. He carefully sat down on the coffee table and looked at you, his elbows on his knees and his long fingers intertwined. He could see you had been crying, the reddish tone of your cheeks and nose told him so. Now it was his turn to feel like shit. Acting out of anger was never a good idea, and he had never done it before, not to you. And now he wondered if you would forgive him for being such a selfish prick, if you would look at him the same when you woke up.

“What the hell is in your head?” He muttered, his fingers brushing away a lock of hair from your forehead, his fingertips gently resting on your cheek as you started to open your eyelids. For a moment, it was as if nothing had happened, the fog of a dream still around you as your eyes met the ones of the man you loved. But as soon as the previous events came back to you, you bolted up, sitting straight and taking Bill's hands in yours as you started to ramble your explanation, fearing he might walk away again.

“Bill – Bill, I didn't want for you to find out this way. I didn't want to talk to you about it because I didn't know what you would think, and I was scared of telling you what I want to do. I --”

You had to stop talking when Bill closed the distance between you to press his lips against yours for a brief moment. You were confused for a second, looking at him with a frown.

“I'm sorry I left like that.” Bill muttered, and you could tell he was truly ashamed of it. “I wasn't thinking straight, and I shouldn't have done that. You deserve better.” He was himself again, thank God. The love of your life was back. “But can you explain me... Just – Why? A breast surgery, why would you want to do that?”

You were shocked to hear that stupid question.

“Are you kidding me? Because I appreciate the intention, but this is no moment for jokes.”

“No, I truly don't understand.”

“Bill!” You exclaimed, getting up from the couch and starting walking around the room. “We've been together for years, you've seen me naked hundreds of times! You know why I want to do it. Look at me. Look at these.” You spoke, pointing with your hands at your boobs. “They're ridiculous. They're small, too small, they're not even cute small, they're just pathetic. I've hated them my whole life, I --”

“Really?” The bewilderment in his features was obvious. “I didn't know you felt like that. I never knew you thought all that about your own body.”

You snorted a sardonic laugh. “Yeah, sure. As if you didn't think the same.”

“Whoa. Wait.” Now it was his turn to stand up and walk to you, concern filling his eyes. “Did I ever say something to make you feel bad about yourself?”

“No.”

“Okay.” He seemed relieved for a second. “Then why do you think I don't like your boobs?”

That was the kind of question you wanted to avoid. But he was there, in front of you, with his big eyes and his brow furrowed, and you couldn't walk away.

“Because... Because of how you look at them.”

“Honey, listen.” His hands were now on your shoulders and he looked at you straight in the eye. “I don't know what you think you see when I look at you, but I can fucking promise you it's not dislike. I love every inch of your body, and your breasts are included. I love them. If I stare them during sex, or when we're bathing or whatever, it's because I fucking adore them.”

You couldn't quite believe your ears. “Why?”

Bill grunted in frustration before kissing you. It started roughly, as if it was a way to prove you what his words couldn't. But it slowly became sweeter, your lips melting against his as his arms surrounded you, sheltered you from everything. He started walking, never parting his lips from yours except to take your shirt off. “I will tell you why.” He murmured, his steps taking you to the bedroom.

You sat down on the bed as he discarded his own shirt and then towered over you, gently laying you down as he kissed you again. Skilled fingers unclasped your bra and you had to fight the instinct to cover up when the garment flew across the room. With his hands at both sides of you, Bill lift up and looked at you, his gaze traveling down to the problematic area.

“How can you not love them?” He breathed, lowering to kiss the space between your boobs. “They're perfection. They're soft, they're sexy.” The shiver that ran through you when his plump lips captured one of your nipples didn't go unnoticed by Bill, who chuckled before massaging the other breast with his hand. “I wouldn't change anything about you. Not a single thing. The way you are, everything in you, is what I fell madly in love for. Every little part of you.” Your eyes had fallen closed as his warm mouth kept tracing kisses along your chest and abdomen, your hand reaching out to look for his crotch. You wanted him as much as he wanted you. He saw you as beautiful as you saw him, and that was something you couldn't deny, something you couldn't doubt.

He obliged and got rid of his pants, which you took advantage from to get rid of yours. “Not so fast, dear.” He smiled as he resumed his previous actions. “I want to make it slow this time. You have to understand.”

He kept his promise. From  the moment he entered you, painfully slowly, he was making sure you felt admired and adored. His kisses were everywhere on your skin, his hands were caressing you where you most needed it, and your breaths were mixed while you panted together. Surrounding his hips with your legs, you reached an orgasm that you could only describe as beautiful, and for the first time in your life, tears welled up in your eyes as Bill climaxed kissing your lips.

It took a moment for the both of you to recover, laying together in a tight embrace. Soft lips kissed your tears and your eyelids, the tip of his nose caressing your cheek.

“Are you alright?” He asked softly.

“Yes.” You honestly said, turning your face to his. Your fingers were entwined in his hair, it was difficult to know where he ended and where you began. You were one. “Do you really love me this much?” You smiled.

“I love you even more. But we have a life to share and I can't run out of ways to show you how much I love you.” You laughed, as Bill lowered his head and let it rest on your chest, your fingertips still caressing his scalp.

If a man like him loved you with such passion... You could learn to love yourself as well.

Beat that, Cinderella

Another drarry Cinderella story based off of this post! This time with a modern twist to it!

Written once more (this time actually fitting the prompt) for the absolutely stunningly incredible @drarrymylove (I hope you enjoy!) and once again I would like to send my love to my AMAZING beta, @staganddragon

Read on Ao3 here

Draco stared at the small but bright spirit bobbing in front of him. He opened his mouth, promptly closed it, and squinted.

“So you’re…”

“A fairy godmother. Yes.”

“And you…”

The fairy, Jeni, Draco remembered, rolled her eyes. “Make the wishes of truly innocent repenters come true.”

“And I am one of these?” He said narrowing his eyes.

“Yes.”

“And because of that you want to send me to the annual Ministry Ball? Because that is my wish. To go to a ball. Tonight. Filled with people who hate me.” Before Jeni could cut in, he added, “An ex-Death Eater. In a room full of Aurors.”

Jeni crossed her little arms in a huff, her curls bouncing against her shoulders.  “Draco. Darling. We have been over this. This is literally the third time we have had this conversation over again. Can you just roll with it? Please. Just give it tonight. Until 12 o'clock.” She reminded Draco ever so slightly of Pansy. Well. A lot, really. Had they met? This would not work out in her favor, Draco decided.

“Right,” Draco snorted. “And then what, at 12 I just leave? The fancy disguise you give me eviscerates? Someone pledges their undying love for me?” Draco chuckle stopped short when he had a brief image of Potter flash through his head. He scowled. And then glared for good measure. Stupid tosser would probably just ignore him as he had been doing ever since a few weeks before Draco quit Auror training last Monday. They must have moved him up to special classes, as Draco never saw him around the ministry, and Potter had certainly not made an effort to reach out to him. Not that he should have, a cheery voice reminded him. Several conversations and flirtatious smiles doesn’t actually mean anything. Draco shook himself out of his stupor.

“Actually…” Jeni started, wincing, and Draco leveled her with a flat look. “Well. We’ll apparate you out of there. No matter what is happening. Just as the clock strikes midnight. We’ve had some… issues in the past. Mice and pumpkins, you understand.”

“Great,” Draco mumbled crossing his arms. “Even fairy godmothers aren’t perfect.” Jeni tisked at him. “How did you even get in here?” Darco wondered. “The manor is guarded against magical creatures now.” Draco paled as he sat down on his bed heavily, remembering the last magical creature that had come to his house. “Are the charms failing? What if-”

Jeni landed on his shoulder and started to pet his hair. “No, Sweetie. I’m sorry I scared you. Godmothers aren’t like ordinary magical creatures. Our magic doesn’t register the same.” Draco took a breath and shook the dark thoughts from his head.

Draco chanced a glace out to his desk. Atop sat a horrifically boring book his mother had been pleading with him to read. He took a slow turn of the room, begging for something to stick out to him, but if he was being honest with himself, he supposed he had nothing better to do. Not that his time wasn’t important. And he had plenty of people to talk to of course. It was just that. Well. His parents were in Paris, and who knows where Blaise and Pansy had fucked off to. Draco had his money on Spain for Blaise and Italy for Pansy. Plus maybe this way he could find a way to talk to Potter again, without him ignoring Draco. It was a masked ball afterall. He pursed his lips, a wrinkle forming between his eyes. Ugh. Potter would probably dress up as a lion, that gryffindor. With his stupid hair and his stupid smile and his stupid penchant for talking to all the hot quidditch stars while he was in the middle of training  and right in front of him- He cleared his throat. “You aren’t going to leave until I agree, are you?” He said, defeated.

Jeni snorted softly on his shoulder and tugged on his hair. “Now you’re getting it. Let’s get you ready!”

Draco’s eyes widened. “What, now? The ball is four hours away! It’s still light outside, for Merlin's sake!” Draco said, flinging his arm to gesture at the window, upending the small fairy forcing her to flutter away.

“You may be right, but this is a long process!” Jeni was insistent, flying up in front of his face and backing him into an armchair. “Plus,” she added, snapping her fingers in a manner that would have made any rich pureblood impressed. A piece of rolled parchment appeared and conveniently floated over to Draco. “You have liability waivers to sign.” The moment Draco took the parchment, it unrolled and spilled across the floor.

“Salazar’s balls!” Draco moaned, already feeling sorry for himself. He grumpily added on, “This better be worth it.” Jeni just smiled and conjured a quill.

~~~~

Draco pulled nervously at his stiff collar outside the ballroom doors. He was nervous. Jeni had poked and prodded him nonstop for what felt like ages, the four hours flying by and an extra half hour used just for glamours, which Draco had insisted upon as to not be recognized. Jeni had rolled her eyes again, smacked him on the head, and then begrudgingly cast some hair coloring charms and the slightest glamour to his face. It was good enough, Draco supposed. No one was going to expect him to come to the ball anyways, and without his hair Draco thought he looked unrecognizable. But he had to give her props. He looked good. His hair was now rich colors of auburn, that brought out some color in his cheeks. His face looked good, not as good as his normal face, but still, Draco supposed, good. And the clothes.

Oh Merlin, Draco hoped somewhere in that contract (which was all hippogriff’s shit from what draco could tell- “contractee will not light the fairy on fire”, “contractee will not perform the macarena while drunk and naked on a balcony”, “contractee will not publicly declare their love for any orange muggle politician”, “contractee will not buy a plane ticket for a midnight flight and then jump out of the plane with no safety gear a minute until midnight”- I mean really, Draco thought, has anyone actually done any of this? Did they have no self respect?) it stated that he would get to keep these clothes. They were absolutely magnificent. Stiff and white on the top, they flowed out to the floor in silvery terraces. The collar was high, and yet dipped in in the front to show off Draco’s chest bones and a hint of his chest itself. Silver detailing, with hints of Draco’s favorite shade of green, crossed the expanse of the fabric, small dragons Draco had been pleased to take note of moved constantly to form ever changing and ever beautiful patterns. It was form fitting, and yet, not constricting. The best feature, Draco thought, was that it made his ass look like two plump apples, ripe for eating. The entire ensemble was finished off with a mask of a dragon that seemed to be made of pure silver with brilliant green emeralds embedded into it. It was entirely fitting of a Malfoy, and Draco was in love.

Suddenly, the doors in front of him opened, and a laughing couple fell out, almost on top of him. He sidestepped them with a sneer and made his way into the ballroom.

Lights were strung up from wall to wall, covering the ceilings. A live band played on the stage to the back of the room, and all around Draco could see people talking with on another. Smiles on their faces. No one stared at him when he walked through. Well, apart from a few glanceovers and appreciative  winks. Draco smirked back at them, but he was saving his wink for someone else.

“Hullo,” a rich voice said from behind him. Draco turned, and almost kept turning right around. The face might have been glamoured, Draco thought, but he would recognize that unruly mop of hair anywhere. If not for that, the eyes would have been a dead give away. Even the absence of the scar could not take away Potter’s earnest and casually commanding presence.

Potter was dressed to the nines, and Draco had to give him props. Or at least props to Granger. There was no chance Potter could have dressed himself for this occasion. He was not a lion, but instead a stag. The outfit looked to be a version of muggle clothing, a sharp black suit, though there was moving golden details on the collar and wrists that glinted everytime the light hit them. His glamoured face was hidden behind a black and gold mask, sleek and elegant, antlers coming out from either side in a majestic sweep. His hair, Draco supposed he could do nothing about, though it did look softer, smoother. Draco could see himself running his fingers through it, gripping on to it, tugging...  Draco was staring.

“Hullo,” he replied. Draco didn’t like the smirk that appeared on Potter’s face. What was he thinking?

Potter held out his hand, and Draco, trying not to see the moment as momentous as it felt, grasped it, but Potter didn’t let him go. “I’m Roonil, but you can just call me Roo. What’s your name?” Potter asked, his eyes never leaving Draco for a second. Draco’s eyes narrowed. What kind of name was Potter playing at?

“Drac- Drake. My name is Drake,” Draco was struggling. He had wanted to confront Potter, but why was his heart beating so damn loud? Also, something was suspicious in the way he was acting.

“Thats funny,” Potter said his eyes sparkling in amusement it sounds a lot like Dr-”

“Do you want to dance?” Draco blurted, afraid at what was about to come out of Potter’s mouth next.

Potter smiled, a real smile where the corners of his eyes grew wrinkles, and tugged on Draco’s hand, leading him onto the dance floor. How long had his hand been clutching Harry’s? Had Harry noticed how strange he was acting?

Harry yanked him towards himself and settled one hand on his back, pulling him in close. Merlin, since when had Draco started to call him Harry in his head? And why was he so out of breath?

Potter lowered his lips to Draco’s ear. “Full disclosure,” he whispered, making Draco shiver involuntarily. “I don’t actually know how to dance.”

Draco covered a snort with a faux huff of disappointment as his confidence rose back up. “Well, then. In that case, I suppose I will just have to lead you,” and he swirled a laughing Harry away.

~~~

Hours later had Draco panting for breaths as Harry lowered his head to Draco’s shoulder.

“I cannot believe you said that to them!” He cried laughing.

“I did! I was fed up! Why should I have had to obliviate the poor man if I could just convince him about the aliens!” Harry said, leaning back from Draco and gesturing wildly before, sinking down into the bench they were sitting on outside the ballroom.

“But Harry,” Draco said, clutching his stomach in laughter. “This poor man quit his job to hunt spaceships!”

Draco was so caught up in his joy, he failed to notice Harry had stopped laughing, and had started staring at him quite curiously.

“You said my name,” Harry stated, perhaps with a hint of wryness. “You know who I am.”

“I, uh, you-” Draco had nothing. Dammit. And the night was going so well! He had had Harry in his clutches- To do what with him, Draco? He thought suddenly. To laugh with him? To get him to smile at you like he has been doing? Is this not what you wanted all along? And now you have him. He doesn’t hate you for what you did. He doesn’t even know who you are. You are free. “Yes,” Draco sighed and pulled back a little. “I do know who you are.” Harry frowned slightly in consideration. “A massive prat! Who would have thought that the poster boy for the Ministry Auror Program commits crimes and convinces Muggles of nonsense in his spare time!”

Harry chuckled, seemingly relieved. “Didn’t you hear? I quit about a month ago-”

“You QUIT?” Draco interrupted. His mind was racing. Maybe Harry hadn’t meant to ignore him, maybe it was all a misun-

“Why, Drake, you seemed scandalized!” Draco quickly collected his thoughts and shoved them away for another time.

“No,” he sniffed. “Not at all. You merely caught me off guard.”

Harry smirked. “I’m sure. Anyways, Drac- Drake. I- Well. I wanted to know if maybe you would like to get dinner with me sometime this week?” Harry looked up at him through his lashes. “It’s been a while since I had this much fun with anyone.”

Draco’s heart thumped. Salazar, this is it! He thought. “I would love that, Harry, I really would. But I’m afraid that I have two conditions that must be seen to first.”

Harry was beaming at him. Well, really he was rolling his eyes, but the smile was important, Draco was sure. “Let’s see what I can do,” Harry said.

Draco nodded, scooting closer on the bench, reaching across Harry to cage him in, and leaning in close. “Well first,” He said, breathing softly and closing the distance inch by inch to Harry’s mouth with his. “I need to check the merchandise, of course.” He was so close, he could see the freckles in Harry’s green eyes. They rather matched his outfit, Draco thought distractedly, watching Harry taking his own eyes with what seemed to be wonder.

“But only of course,” Harry whispered inching impossibly closer and bringing his arms up to hold Draco close to him. They closed their eyes as noses nudged noses.

“Harry,” Draco whimpered. He felt a pulling sensation in his gut and then he was flying.

Harry’s lips touched his and- wait. Were lips supposed to feel this rough? Was Harry squeaking? Surely Draco wasn’t that bad of a kisser. His eyes flew open and he spit out hair. “What the fuck!” He cried out, turning wildly around his bedroom. A wet ball of light flew in front of him, crossing her arms.

“I won’t expect an apology from you-” Draco started to reply, but held his tongue in shock when the fairy turned away from him and just held up a hand. “I don’t want to hear it.” Jeni shivered and quickly muttered a quick charm to dry and clean her hair, which returned to the bouncing curls. She looked down to examine her nails. “I hope you had a good time-”

“Would have been more fun if I hadn’t been pulled away,” Draco muttered darkly. But the fairy godmother just continued to speak as if he wasn’t even there, flexing her fingers out in front of her.

“And I hope that you don’t mind that we need to take away your clothes-” Draco let out a squawk as his clothes disappeared, replaced by a bathrobe (which, Draco would have liked to point out, was entirely too short, only barely covering what it needed to). “And please be aware that the glamour will stay in place until you decide to end it manually with a wand.” A loud bang made Draco jump, but the fairy only looked up from her nails. “Oh! I bet that’s him!”

“Who’s-” Draco started, but the fairy just popped out of existence. This was just going too fast for Draco. He heard muffled yelling from the front of the manor, where the door was creaking under the ferocious pounding. An impressive feat, as the door was larger than twice Hagrid’s height. “Alright! I’m coming!” He called out running down the hallway frazzled, confused, and still dazed after his almost kiss with Harry. “Merlin, will you stop!” He said, unlocking and throwing open the door. “Harry!” He said, shocked. Harry’s glamour was gone and he was holding his mask tightly in his fist, his hair looking as if he had run his fingers through it more than usual. How it could have gotten so messy in the span of only a few minutes, Draco could not say. He supposed Harry couldn’t say either. “What are you- how did you-” Harry knocked past him into the hallway before he rounded on him, but not without first glancing down at Draco’s bathrobe, or more specifically, his long, lean legs. It took a few seconds before Harry shook his head.

“What the fuck, Malfoy! You don’t just apparate away in the middle of-”

“I was forcefully apparated away, actually,” Draco interjected.

Harry just continued. “Were you just toying with me? What this all a large joke-”

Draco started. “Fuck no, Potter! I was literally dragged away- against my will- at midnight- wait hold on. Did you just say my name? Do you know who I am?”

Harry snorted, and moved down the hall, peaking into archways and doorways until he found one with sofas. He twitched his wand in the direction of the fireplace, which instantaneously lit up with a roaring fire. In turn, Draco, who had frantically moved to follow him after pushing the front door shut, felt his other wand twitch in response to the display of powerful wordless magic. At least the bathrobe was roomy.

“Well?” Draco demanded, crossing his arms and tapping his foot at Harry, who had sprawled on one end of the sofas in a huff. Harry scoffed.

“Really, Draco,” Harry said with a snort. Draco’s breath caught at the use of his name. But then he supposed, coming to the Manner had been a pretty sure give away. “Did you think you could get away with just casting a half-arsed glamour on your face and changing your hair color? Did you think I wouldn’t recognize that haughty sneer of yours or the way you held yourself? You even recognized me through my glamour!”

“Well,” Draco sniffed, sitting carefully on the edge of the sofa. “Your glamour was crap.” He shifted, hunching in on himself.  Softly, he continued. “And I was going to tell you. That was going to be part of the second condition. That we would accept the other without the glamours, or no deal.”

Harry chuckled fondly, but exasperatedly. “I’m still mad at you, you know,” he said with a small smile. Draco frowned, shifting a little closer and angling his body towards Harry’s. “Why did you leave?” Harry’s eyes found his, and Draco could see how vulnerable he was in this moment. “Jesus, Draco, I was really worried there for a minute,” Harry said, hands coming up hesitantly to hold Draco’s face, stroking his cheeks with his thumbs. Draco breathed in. Draco breathed out. And then told him the whole story from the very beginning, which seemed to have started days ago and not just earlier that day.

“What,” Harry asked, raising an eyebrow. “And it just so happened to strike midnight what was supposed to be the best kiss I’ve had in awhile-”

He froze, and Draco grew a smirk. “Oh, well then, in that case, Potter, I suppose I will have to make it up to you. Draco moved forward only to stop with a whine as Harry held up a hand to stop him. “What now?” He said against Harry’s fingers.

“If this is going to happen, I want it to be as Harry and Draco, with no glamours in the way. You have conditions to be met.” Draco’s breath caught, and his heart melted. “How else will I know you haven’t grown a mustache or gone hideous?” Draco scowled and Harry preformed another wordless spell to remove first the glamours on his hair, and then the one on his face, before he casually dropped his wand into the sofa to be able to continue to hold Draco’s face. Harry seemed enthralled. Draco was not amused.

“Shut it, Potter,” he said, even as he ran his hands through Harry’s soft hair.

“Harry,” Harry replied grinning, returning the motion in kind.

Draco smiled. “Harry. Shut it, Harry.” And finally, their lips touched.

Jeni watched them move into each other from her place on the windowsill, tickled with happiness. As apprehensive as she had been for combining the two assignments, both feeling guilty and both deserving forgiveness, she could not have asked for a better turnout. “Beat that, Cinderella,” she said, and promptly popped away.

Finding Goddess (Chapter Nine)

Monday arrived, and Carol had a feeling it was going to be a bad day.

She had no idea why. It seemed like any other Monday she had gone through. Country music would blare obnoxiously into her ear, and she would silence it with a forceful slam on the clock radio from whence it came. Then she'd get up, take a shower, fix herself a cup of coffee, brush her teeth, check her phone for messages, catch up on the news online, the usual. So far, so good, everything seemed pretty typical. So why couldn't she shake the feeling that something horrible was going to come crashing down on her?

Perhaps I forgot something? she mused, scratching her chin as she stared out the window lost in thought. It certainly seemed like something was missing...a light bulb winked on in her head. Oh, right, the garbage! That has to be it. Silly me!

Monday was the garbage day, both metaphorically and literally, and Carol had neglected to take hers outside the previous night. She had been too...absorbed in her book. Fortunately, there were plenty of other trash bags lying on the curb, which meant the truck hadn't arrived to pick them up yet. It wasn't too late. After tying her bag up, Carol hopped into her flip-flops and rushed out the door with the trash in hand. The warm summer air that hit her body was a strong contrast to the cooler conditioned air in her home, but she didn't have the time to marvel or groan at the sensation as she rushed to the street to deposit her trash.

A car drove by. In the corner of her vision, Carol noticed it abruptly slowed down and thought the driver did a double-take in her direction. In normal circumstances, she would have just ignored it and moved on, but a sudden honking of his horn forced her to look up just in time to watch him speed away. The mother blinked in confusion.

What was that about?

Across the street, another person rushed outside carrying a trash bag of his own, clearly having the same issue and idea that Carol had. However, upon glancing up in her direction, he stopped dead in his tracks and looked directly at her, his jaw falling to the ground. Confused, Carol just waved at him before turning away, her mind a big question mark.

Wonder what his problem was? Was there something on my face?

Idly, Carol pawed at her face to wipe off whatever had supposedly shocked her neighbor so much. Upon feeling nothing come off it, she decided to take a glance down to see if there was something weird elsewhere on her body. It didn't seem like there were any problems. Her skin was still a little red from the shower, and her bush could use a bit of a trim, but there wasn't really anything worth getting alarmed about—

Hold on a minute...skin? Bush?!

"CRAP!"

Carol practically warped back into her apartment, her every inch of bare skin coated in a fine layer of sweat.

She couldn't believe it! She went outside butt-naked and didn't even realize it! Just like Henrietta did the other day! It hadn't even occurred to her to put any clothes on.

"What the hell is WRONG with us?" she grumbled, trudging to her room to go get some things to put on, feeling more than a little sheepish.

If I hadn't forgotten to take out the trash...or if I hadn't remembered that I forgot to take out the trash...I might have never realized I hadn't dressed yet. I might very well have gone to work just like this!

Carol shuddered at the thought. She didn't care about people seeing her naked at all, but people seeing her forget to do something as fundamental as putting her clothes on? That kind of humiliation would have killed her!

Of course, now that the subject of clothes had fully entered Carol's mind, she now realized precisely why this was going to be such a rotten day. It meant that her nude streak had to finally come to an end and she had to do her least favorite thing in the whole world: dress herself. It was never an easy thing, and after spending three whole days in her perfect natural state, it would be especially hellish today. But she didn't have a choice; she had work today, and she had to be decent at the office.

So biting her lip, Carol set about the arduous task of covering herself. She did not bother putting on any underwear; she had sworn off bras and panties a long time ago and was perfectly happy to go commando. But that didn't mean she could skimp out on anything else. She had stockings to climb into to at least feign a sense of modesty, a white blouse with a built-in shelf bra to make sure her girls didn't bounce around too much, and a business skirt and blazer in matching shades of black to make her look professional. With the addition of her heels, some makeup, and a good combing of her hair, her look was complete.

Carol stared at her clothed self in the mirror and took it all in. She looked good, or at least she supposed she did in the eyes of the business world. Her suit was straight and unwrinkled. Her lips were glossy and red. Her black hair was sleek, shiny, untangled, and "like she just stepped off a spaceship" as her daughter, Mindy, would describe it. In short, she was the perfect image for the modern day businesswoman.

Carol could only sigh at it. She didn't want to look like the perfect modern day businesswoman! She didn't want this suit to look straight on her, she didn't want her lips to look so red, she didn't want her hair to be so tidy. She wanted to wrestle the whole ensemble off her body and hurl it to the ground. She wanted to latch onto the cutest person she could find and leave lip marks all over their skin. She wanted her hair to get tousled and tangled just to tell everyone that she was a wild girl who craved fun and excitement!

She wanted to live like those women who served the Goddess, Zenriah!

Unrestrained!

Free!

Naked!

She had spent a lot of time yesterday reading the Scripture, and those Zenrist girls of ancient times really had it made. It seemed like they didn't have to worry about a thing, save how they were going to get, or give, their next orgasm. Everything about their lives was all about enjoying their bodies and being in love. The thing that every girl would and should ever want. If ever there was an afterlife, Carol hoped it would be like that.

Uh, not that she believed there could ever be an afterlife. Let alone a paradise where women just lived completely naked and had sex with each other and a goddess all the time.

It sure would be nice though.

Carol turned away and marched out of the room, intent to get as far away from the mirror as possible. If she thought about it any longer, thought about her hatred of clothes, or Zenrists, or the book lying on her bed any longer, she might feel the urge to just rip her suit off right now and start masturbating. She already wasted enough time thinking about them.

***

Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick...

Her fingers danced gracefully across her keyboard. Her eyes swung back and forth like pendulums across every word that flashed on her screen. Sentences were highlighted, underlined, and deleted with every scurrying motion of her mouse.

But inside her head, Carol was completely dead.

Yes, it was another droning day in the office, full of ennui, humdrum, and piles and piles of textual mush to slog through. Just like it had been last week. And the week before that, and the week before that.

Unfortunately, it was even worse today. Everything felt...tighter around Carol. More constraining. More claustrophobic. Like she was trapped in a cage built entirely around her whole body. Every now and then, she found herself absently tugging at her collar, pulling at her sleeve, or rubbing her legs together to loosen the fabrics closing in on her form, giving her skin a few precious seconds to breathe. But it wasn't enough.

Damn it, she cursed as she pulled at her blouse, which was making her feel especially itchy right around where her nipples were. This is what she got after spending such a long time without any clothes on. Her body always needed to take some time to get used to being wrapped up again, but it was really bad today. If it didn't let up anytime soon, she...she...she didn't even want to think about what would happen.

"Hey, Carol! Working hard, or hardly working?"

"Huh?" Carol half-gasped as she looked up to see just who had so rudely interrupted her anxiety. "Oh. Hi, Harold."

Harold beamed at her with that annoyingly friendly smile of his before he took a sip of his coffee. Though swallowing his drink caused that smile to mercifully flicker away, if only for a moment. "Bleck, coffee's especially bitter today," he said, pulling a retching expression before taking another sip.

"Then why are you drinking it?" said Carol, who decided she could use the small talk, if only to provide a distraction from her discomfort.

"Didn't get much sleep last night. Let's just say we ran into some car trouble on the way home from my son's grandparents that delayed us for...a little while," he grumbled, adding some unintelligible cursing under his breath.

"Is your car starting to break down?"

"No, the problem wasn't the car," Harold sighed, embarrassment starting to seep into his voice. "The problem was that...I couldn't get it out of the driveway." Upon saying that, he took another swig of his drink, doing so in a way that was far more fitting for a bottle of scotch than a mug of coffee.

"I...see," said Carol. "That must be quite the story."

"Yeah, one I could do without telling right now. But that's the story of my weekend. How was yours?"

Carol froze. Her weekend. That was the one thing she didn't want to think about right now. The one thing she couldn't afford to think about right now. Because if she did...she just might...

"It...was good," she stated robotically.

"You do anything fun?"

"Um..."

I spent three days straight totally, completely, and utterly naked? I walked around in public without a stitch of clothing on? I met some brilliant women and had sex with them? I learned about a crazy cult consisting of nudist lesbians?

"Uh, Carol? Are you okay?" said Harold as he waved a hand in front of her face.

"I...I..." she murmured. She needed to find something to say, something to satisfy her co-worker's curiosity, something that didn't involve her unclothed weekend hijinks. It wasn't an appropriate thing to bring up in the office after all...and it was once again making her feel tight all over as her yearning to return to that perfect state of being started to come back in full force.

Desperately, she darted her eyes toward every possible direction she could, hoping to find something to latch onto. She did, in the form of the little black mug in Harold's hands. "C...coffee."

"Excuse me?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I...I went to New Deastone with a friend!" said Carol. "Yeah. A new coffee shop opened up there, and she wanted to check it out."

Yeah, that sounded good. She went to New Deastone over the weekend for "coffee." It was a good lie because it was completely true! She and Henrietta did stop by a coffee shop after all. And they had plenty of "coffee" on the way there. Hot, exotic, sexy, permanently naked coffee...

"Sounds like it was a pretty relaxing weekend for you then," said Harold. "I take it you're able to trust leaving your kids alone in the house?"

"Huh? Oh, Mindy and Erin? I didn't need to worry about them. They weren't home. They took a trip with their friends to Duny Beach. They'll be gone for the week." Already, Carol could feel her inner tensions ease up. She just dodged a bullet, and redirected the conversation to other matters. Matters that had nothing to do with sex or nudity. Her sanity was safe.

"Duny Beach, eh? That's nice this time of year. Oh, if only I could be in school again and enjoy these sweet summer vacations. Wouldn't mind catching some waves myself." Harold suddenly paused and furrowed his brow as a ponderous expression poured over him.

"What's going on?" said Carol. "Is something wrong?”

"No, no, nothing's wrong," said Harold. "It's just...I heard that they recently opened up some nude beaches there."

Carol froze again, so stiffly even her heart stopped. "What?"

"Yeah, there are nude beaches there. Or maybe just clothing-optional ones. But yeah, either way, there are places in Duny where you can just take it all off and run around in the altogether."

Take it all off. Carol really wanted to take it all off. Her clothes were beginning to close around her again. She could feel her blouse tightening around her neck, threatening to cut off her air. She tugged at her collar.

"Wh-what are you saying?" she stammered.

"I'm not saying anything," said Harold. "Just that, if your daughters aren't careful, they might find themselves out of their swimsuits. Especially if they're friends with some dirty little devils." He chuckled good-naturedly as he took another sip of coffee. "Don't be surprised if they come home flustered with some funny little stories they have no intention of telling you."

"Ha...yeah. I'll...keep that in mind," said Carol, speaking slowly so as to take long, deep breaths between her words. It was getting hard to breathe in her clothes. Hell, it was getting hard to exist in them. Her breasts were pressing so hard against the fabric of her top that it hurt. A strip of cloth was starting to drip in between her buttocks that they started to itch. Her legs felt so stiff that she unconsciously rubbed them together just to remind herself that they were not clamped within a vice. And the light scratching sound of her nylons grinding against each other was like nails on a chalkboard.

"Not that you need them to tell you anything," Harold continued. "You could probably find plenty of similar stories online. Would you believe that there actually exists this subgenre of fiction on the internet where people, usually women, lose their clothes and get stuck running around naked? It's the silliest thing ever. I would have never guessed such a thing existed if my son hadn't accidentally left a webpage to one open on his laptop. And all this time, I thought he wasn't one for reading. Shows how much I know about my own kid."

Things were getting really unbearable for Carol. Her vision was starting to blur. Her head was growing heavy on her shoulders. Her clothes were getting tighter all around her. If she didn't do something about them real soon, either they'd crush her body into a squishy mess, or her body would break them apart at the seams.

"I won't confront him about it, though. And I won't tell his mother either," said Harold. "It's just regular teenage curiosity. Not our business and we've talked about these things a lot with him in the past. But I have to wonder what he would actually do if he did find a girl like that? A girl who'd be willing to strip down and run around naked for him at a moment's notice."

"I gotta go!" Carol cried, shooting up to her feet so forcefully she blasted her chair straight into the wall.

"Oh, well, yeah, I guess I should too. Nice talking to you."

Carol paid him no mind as she rushed off as fast as her heels would allow. She knew it was rude to run off like that in the middle of a conversation, she knew she was likely drawing stares, but she couldn't help it. She had to get away, she had to hide, she had to find the one place in the entire office that would grant her sanctuary.

She found it as she all but ran through the door of the ladies room, causing a couple of women exiting it to leap to the side in surprise as she blazed past them.

"Whoa! What's got into her?" said one.

"She must've had Mexican for breakfast."

Carol ignored them as she dove into one of the toilet stalls, thankful to see they were all empty and clean. Upon slamming both the door and the toilet lid shut, she wasted no time in beginning the frantic task of taking her clothes off, or at least her top, where the worst of her discomfort was. She hatefully hurled her blazer onto the floor, quietly relishing the whipping sound it made as it collided with the toilet before hooking her fingers onto the bottom of her blouse and pulling them upward.

"Ahhhhhh!" she sighed as she felt the air pour over her breasts the second the fabric was pulled completely away from them. They bounced freely in the air once, large and proud, the nubs of their nipples standing tall and at attention, before settling down to a gentle jiggle and coming to a complete rest upon her chest.

"Mmmm," she murmured as she ran her hands over them, just to see for herself that they really were bare, really were free, the way she liked them to be. They were. So soft and warm and squishy, save for her nipples, which were hard and pointy enough to pop a balloon. Words could not describe how much she loved her breasts, loved to touch them, loved to be touched on them, by either human hands or the elements. It was good to have them out, good to have them exposed. It was like they could breathe, come alive, and enjoy life with her.

She wasn't as naked as she liked to be, but it was nevertheless the panacea she needed. The tension all around her dissipated like fog in the wind.

"Phew, thought I was going to die," she mumbled. "I wonder what that was all about?"

Now that Carol wasn't feeling so claustrophobic, she was able to think rationally again. Wearing clothing was always discomforting for her, but it never got that bad before. Was it because she hadn't had a naked streak that long or that...public in over twenty years? Or ever for that matter? Did she not give her body enough time to acclimate itself to clothing? Did the Zenrists in New Deastone have an effect on her?

The Zenrists. Just thinking about those nudist lesbian cultists made Carol sigh wistfully. It always came back to them. They got to enjoy such an unprecedented level of freedom, the likes of which she could only dream about. If I was Zenrist, this wouldn't be a problem. I could just come into the office naked as the day I was born. I wouldn't have to worry about dressing right, dressing neatly, or getting dressed at all.

She looked down at her bare boob and squeezed it tenderly. I could let my girls jiggle and bounce all they liked. I could even play with them all I liked! That thought brought a smile to her face and prompted her to flick her nipple around playfully. The feeling was good, it was arousing, and more than anything else, it was strangely calming. The fact that she could find time in the day to pleasure herself slightly like this seemed to fill her with a sense of peace. Much like how she imagined the Zenrists felt when they pleasured themselves, knowing they were fulfilling their purpose to Almighty Zenriah.

But I can't ever be one. I can't believe in the Goddess like they do.

Carol's smile melted into a frown. Here she was, a nudist, an exhibitionist, a woman who hated clothes, who would gladly shuck them off forever if she could, but was doomed to spend eternity stuck within them. All because she was not a religious woman. The Zenrists got to run around naked all the time, and she had to hide in a bathroom just to enjoy a moment of relief. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair at all.

There's nothing I can do about that though, she thought with a sad shake of her head. So there's no point in even thinking about it. I need to focus on what really matters: my job.

Yes, her job. Which she had to get back to sooner rather than later, and hopefully without having another freak-out. So with a heavy heart, Carol picked her blouse up off the floor and slipped it over her chest, almost wincing in pain as she felt her boobs get smothered in the hated fabric once more. Her blazer quickly followed. After taking a moment to primp her hair in front of the mirror and make sure she was tidy, the wannabe nudist exited the bathroom, intent to put every thought about Zenrism and nudity behind her.

Unfortunately, she didn't walk two steps out before the thoughts returned in full force when a girl holding a stack of papers nearly crashed into her. "Oh, excuse me!" the girl whimpered as she stumbled in place, tightening her grip on the sheets to keep them from flying in every conceivable direction.

Carol took a look at her. She was a pretty young thing, likely an intern still in college, with chestnut hair tied back in a ponytail, and wearing a pair of glasses that made her look younger and more innocent than she actually was, an effect that was only further heightened by the nervous demeanor she was exhibiting through her wide startled eyes and shaking hands.

"Oh, uh...it's no bother," Carol mumbled apologetically as she took a step back to allow the girl to continue on her way. "Don't mind me."

The intern nodded and did just that, but Carol didn't let her out of her sight. She turned her gaze to watch her go, taking note of the innocent flower's hips that she knew were swaying deliciously under that business skirt of hers.

If I was a Zenrist...then I could just pick her up and have my way with her. I could just tear her clothes off, see what she's like under there, completely devour her...

She could already imagine how the encounter would go. She would approach the tiny little girl with her completely naked body, walking with just the right swagger that would leave the intern absolutely star-struck. Then Carol would scoop her up in her strong arms, carry her to her desk like a bride, rip her clothes off until she had only what her parents gave her, and trib her brains out. Carol would mash her clit into hers, press her boobs into the intern's face, make her suck and worship her nipples like they were the Goddess' themselves. And then the two of them would cum. All over the desk, on the floor. And everyone would watch. It was enough to make Carol lick her lips hungrily.

But with her fantasy came another uncomfortable realization. Once more, it reminded her that she was not a Zenrist. She was an ordinary woman, and she had to wear clothes. And the clothes she was wearing were starting to close in around her again.

Carol gulped. It was just like she thought it would be when she woke up this morning; this was going to be a bad day.

dream number one, December 24th 2018

wow. first dream! welcome, welcome :) please make yourself comfortable. Now to all you readers out there: young, old, seasoned, virgin, i must confess i have terrible dream retention, but hopefully this webpage will strengthen such skills. for now though I shall do my best, henceforth!

picture if you will, your childhood self at your local Museum of Science and Industry. it’s 2005, raining outside, you’ve just eaten a corn dog at the $$ concession kiosk, and now you’re breathing down the face of an animatronic dinosaur a the Dinosaurs Alive! exhibition.

(thanks getty images) their skin taught and airbrushed. they move with a sharp exactness that inadvertently shakes them every time they open their mouth to  “bark.” Elaborate studio lighting and replica flora and fauna surrounding the dinosaurs punctuate (haha) (dumb adjective in this context but sue me (please)) the otherwise night-black room (save of course the bourgeois studio lighting)    this isn’t the dream, this is just some context :) :’)  ;)

so you have the image in your head of the madness of Dinosaurs Alive! now put that exhibition into a once high-end, but now almost defunct American shopping mall. now slap an Audi dealership on top of it. my dream begins with an experimental ad campaign for Audi by the fellows who did Dinosaurs Alive! The mall has closed, but for reasons unknown i am sitting on the black carpet of the dealership looking onward at the show; a slick, hot silver car sits proudly on a rotating stage in the center of the room, bracing me with the energy of a bulldog. fake palm trees, birds of paradise, and other tropical plants bow inward toward the car, symmetrically placed on each side of the room. a large television screen dances with a futuristic watery animation of the Audi Logo on the back wall of the dealership. i am very excited to be there (again for reasons unknown, but there is a tepid sexual atmosphere that i’m sure has something to do with it). the room is quite dark. a female voice says something like “THE HORSE, MANS FIRST CAR, ORIGINATED FROM A SPECIES OF REPTILE 3 MILLION YEARS AGO.” A fake lizard, rigged with robotic movements (sort of a la West World) is spot-lighted, suspended from the ceiling as the car on the rotating stage below is dimmed. the voice continues:  “IT’S BIOLOGY TODAY IS INVALUABLE.” next to the car, a 3D printed skeleton of something i can only describe as half sea-shell, half horse skeleton, half lizard skeleton is lit up beautifully as the voice talks about the math behind this structure, and how it is the very skeleton of this new Audi car prototype! The television displays a rapid fire slideshow of the evolution of horse, and then horse into car. The fake plants in the room shake with the voice as if they are cheering at such wondrous innovations. all of it reeks of that “the future is NOW” intelligent robot singularity shtick. Once it’s over, a gorgeous man in a tight fitting suit walks out from behind the television screen and applauds the advertisement so far. he is the man i can get something from, apparently. but what is it?

I quickly find out he lives in the back of the dealership, in a cocaine-money tapestry bed with a security television installed into the wall behind it, and surround sound speakers, which, i swear to god, are playing an ORIGINAL Owl City song that my raw brain composed on its own. I am telling you guys, the exact musical stylings of Owl City. of course i can’t remember it in my waking life :( anyway, the man boasts this is the rare unreleased track. we are laying in bed together, his room illuminated with the same studio lights as the dealership. his body is huge and his abdominal muscles descend peacefully like a rice terrace:

he wears nothing but a gold chain necklace, as do i except i am wearing a dog collar (nice). i curl into him, he scratches my head, i think backwards into our night of wild sex we just did. i remember it was that 100% kind of sex that dissolves all yearning for sedation because look its actually happening, and you can just sit back and be beautiful and get fucked while being beautiful (rare, i’m so sure). he has to leave and go to car work though, but don’t worry because i can live here with him for a few days in the Audi dealership because we really need to fuck out whatever issue we’re trying to understand within eachother-- let me be clear, it totally wasn’t love, but more like an urgent need between two bodies that we had no other choice than to comply with.

later in the dream we are studying (oh brother) for finals (fuck) and he sits with me in a group of my stock-photo student friends, on the floor of the audi store that has a built in cafe! dream architecture can be so ambitious!  he is wearing a polo shirt and i am wearing something farm-esque if i do recall, as per his request and because i didn’t have many clothes options at the car store. so i remember being in some sort of “farm girl” get up, doing, and here’s the kicker, computer science homework. He runs in all “sorry i’m late” and me and my computer science friends goad him on his tardiness. another interesting detail of this scene is that we all have incredibly internet-heavy senses of humor-- a lot of Rick & Morty quotes, a lot of phrases from the reddit/4chan lexicon, a lot of old memes. but even in this parallel world, our sexual tension overrides everything else, and I flash back to him holding my face into the pillows, just trying to suffocate me a little bit, and i see through the bed into a glowing pond at the bottom of a cave. It’s just so beautiful. He pulls me back into the present moment and i go into fetal position and put his fingers in my mouth and then he gets all calm and soothing and i am like “yes yes yes” except i am shaking, can’t/don’t want to talk because he’s done all these elaborate things with my body at that point. Lying all the way naked, oh look at that word, wouldn’t that be a funny word to use right now... hmm no not that one, ha ha ha, you know that post-sex dissociation/bliss. Then BAM in the blink of an eye I am back with the friends at the study circle, and low and behold, as if a direct gift from my brain to me, kyla, the original Owl City song plays again! it’s so real! It’s so complete! “I have to record this!” i say, but alas i am sans recording device (as is always the case in dreams), and the song slips into the ether of my subconscious once more.

WIP Tag

i was tagged by @floofyeol! idk if this is a blessing or a curse let’s find out.

some of these fics have been in drafts for ages? so tbh i don’t even know if i will post them but hey we’ll see. (so assume for now that none of these will be posted—except when stated otherwise with an *)

the first couple will be ships. the later ones are reader-inserts. all are still protected by the Creative Commons license.

slide it up in here: chapter 10* pairing(s): jikook, namjin, yoonseok genre: humour, crack, drama, angst tags/warnings: texting, college au, slightly filthy, innuendoes, Awkward Jeon Jungkook™, slowburn, self-esteem issues, self-hatred, implied/referenced homophobia, everyone is a mess™

SUMMARY

gguki: [image attached] gguki: what should i do with it chimothy: um chimothy: dude idk if i’m entitled to give you suggestions but chimothy: i mean you could always just stick it in the ass???????

or jungkook accidentally sends a stranger a picture of his roommate’s brand new dildo

PREVIEW

the (9)7 wonders of the world

tol: ok here’s the plan dabs 24/7: yugyeom no offence but your plans kinda suck muscle pig: ^^ what bambam said muscle pig: i don’t trust you anymore tol: wow that hurt tol: but i promise you this one will be better dabs 24/7: don’t do it kook tol: it won’t backfire in any way

untilted vhope pairing(s): vhope, namjin genre: humour, fluff tags/warnings: college au, skype dates, profanity, neurobiology/pyschology major!namjoon, ra!jin, music major!yoongi (i think), some major!hoseok, and high schooler!tae, tbh idrk bc i haven’t finished writing it lmao

SUMMARY

When Jung Hoseok signed up for college, he didn’t think he’d end up on academic probation so soon. Hell, he’d never guess he’d have friends who would use him as a fucking lab rat for their atrocious experiments. He definitely did not expect to fall in love with his resident advisor’s little brother—and then proceed to sneak into said resident advisor’s room and hack his computer just to have one more Skype date with the little brother. Without getting caught by said resident advisor. Yeah—he’s a little stressed, to say the least.

→ a continuation of It’s Burning Up in Here.

PREVIEW

He didn’t sign up for this. He thought college would be a great idea—who would pass up the opportunity for ultimate freedom and youthful stupidity? No, he was ecstatic for college—but he definitely hadn’t signed up to be the fucking victim for his resident advisor’s boyfriend’s experiments.

“Hoseok-ssi, please stay still or otherwise this will hurt. A lot,” Namjoon begged as his friend Yoongi tried to hold him down on the fragile coffee table.

“That’s not what your needle’s saying! You said it was a harmless experiment! You said I’d be fine!”

“You will be! I just need practice drawing blood once—”

“You’ve never even done this before?” Hoseok shrieked, writhing some more. Yoongi growled in frustration and flung his entire weight onto Hoseok’s body—and thus effectively snapping the legs of the coffee table and sending them down towards the floor.

His advisor ran into the room then, eyes wide in alarm while holding a skillet filled with half-cooked meat, his creased white apron reading World’s Best Dad! in pretty cursive pink. “What the hell is going on here?”

untitled taekook* pairing(s): taekook, yoonjin genre: fluff, angst, humour, crack tags/warnings: restaurant au, running away, mentions of nudity, exhibitionism, does getting caught dancing naked in your room count as exhibitionism idek, mention of mpreg, but there’s no actual mpreg, i mean it’s the sims it’s not real, many many references to the male organ, but sorry folks no smut (A/N: this is literally what i have in my docs wow i’m such a nerd for preparing ao3 tags LMAO)

SUMMARY

The last thing Jungkook expected after running away to Seoul is to score a private live viewing of Naked_Neighbour_Dancing_In_His_Bedroom.mov—and then proceed to bump into him when he’s not-so-naked. And then also manage to greet him with a slap. It also probably doesn’t help that Nude Neighbour is his new boss. All in all, Jungkook just maybe kinda wants to die. (But of course Seokjin isn’t gonna allow him, so he’s just going to suffer—for now.)

PREVIEW

He sighs, turning his head to gaze out of the window, only to freeze when he realises his view isn’t exactly the most… decent.

Because across from his small studio apartment window is a perfect view of a larger apartment in the building across, and currently, the tenant (he hopes the boy’s the tenant) is enthusiastically dancing through his room completely naked, dinglehopper fully on display. He’s mouthing the words to some song, throwing a finger up in the air as he shuts his eyes and nods his head as though the music (Jungkook thinks there’s music) blasting in his room is speaking to him on a spiritual level.

Jungkook’s face is bright red when he finally breaks out of his trance, and he wishes he wasn’t so bad at reacting appropriately to inappropriate situations so he could at least have saved himself from adding a thirty-second clip of Nude Neighbour to his collection of non-digital memories. He rushes to the window and pulls the curtains close, fingers stiff as he tries to rid his brain of such scandalous images.

At least he was hot.

His face is redder now—if that’s even possible. “Fuck me,” he whispers, and then flushes even more. “Wait, no. Don’t fuck me. That’s not what—why am I even talking to myself. Agh.”

take these words out of my lungs (and set them free) pairing(s): vmin genre: angst, fluff tags/warnings: major character death, suicide attempt, depression, body image issues, depressed!jimin, emotional abuse, verbal abuse, ambiguous original character that appears for like five seconds, high school au

SUMMARY/PREVIEW

three pounds. that’s how much he’s gained since he last stepped on the scale, the dictator that rules over his life. he stares at the numbers again, frowning at the digits glaring up at him. perhaps there was a mistake; maybe the scale is rigged or jammed or simply broken. he couldn’t have possibly gained three pounds in a span of two days. hasn’t he been walking around his neighbourhood enough?

he sighs, stepping off the scale and turning around to flush the toilet before washing his hands. even the cold water burns his skin, and he wishes he could melt through the cracks on the floor. would he slim down then? would he finally be skinny enough?

“jimin!” he hears his mother call, and he forces his way from the sink, sneaking out his parent’s bathroom and into the living room outside. their apartment is small but cozy. jimin hates it.

untitled kim seokjin* pairing(s): platonic OT7 genre: fluff, angst tags/warnings: anxiety, depression, eating disorder, negative body image perception, lapslock (lower case)

SUMMARY

honestly, he can’t remember what it’s like to live anymore.

PREVIEW

breathe in. breathe out.

three lucky charms. four cereal pieces. seven bits down the drain.

he smiles, staring at the milk-stained sink as the spoon clatters against metal, bowl turned upside down. it’s ugly—white ink staining burnt grey like liquid cobwebs feeding on rust. it looks exactly as how he feels: dirty, wasted, trash. one-seventy-nine centimetres down the drain.

untitled kim taehyung pairing(s): Kim Taehyung/Reader genre: fluff, humour, probably angst bc knowing me tags/warnings: (sor far) nudity, profanity

SUMMARY/PREVIEW

Kim Taehyung has no regrets. Sure, he probably should’ve thought twice before he spent all of his money on BIGBANG merch just to show Jungkook that yes, he’s the bigger fanboy, and sure, he definitely should’ve listened to Jimin when he warned Taehyung that no, he shouldn’t eat three whole pizza pies by himself, but that doesn’t mean he regrets any of his decisions. Even though blowing all his earnings on people he’ll never meet did cause him to starve for a good or so month.

(Thank god for ramyeon.)

So, no, Jimin, he doesn’t regret running out of the shower butt naked when he heard her singing on her way to the second floor of their co-ed dorm, doesn’t regret shouting, “I love your voice!” before she screamed, “Oh my god, you’re naked!” And he definitely doesn’t regret yelling, “Oh, shit!” into Oblivion before sprinting back into the bathroom to resume the hot shower he abandoned.

“For fuck’s sake, Taehyung,” Jimin says to him once Taehyung’s finished recounting the story, the two of them lying side by side on Jimin’s bed. “You’re going to get us kicked out.”

“I should probably say hi,” Taehyung muses, blinking at the ceiling. “Do you think she remembers me?”

Jimin glances down, and snickers. “With how small your dick is, she probably does.”

untitled park jimin pairing(s): Park Jimin/Reader genre: fluff tags/warnings: (so far) blind!reader

SUMMARY

He is an angel; and she doesn’t need to see to believe. She fathoms his widespread wings as he gently picks her up, worriedly and urgently asking for her health, voice so soft it touches her skin like silk on smooth glass. His eyes must be crinkled in the corners, a smile stuttering through apologies, heart too warm for the human hand to touch. She imagines what he looks like, faintly deciding through his rapid Korean that he must be chesnut if not vanilla, not in skin but in connotation because he sounds and smells and feels like home.

Her pause is a millennia long, and she hears him repeat himself again, the sound of melting marshmallow oozing out of beautiful lips: “Are you alright?”

She produces a smile, feathery and light, eyes glassy and the world continues to remain black. “I’m fine,” she replies, and her voice is cracked from its lack of use; she hasn’t met anyone worth talking to in what feels like a century. Another smile reappears, much strained than what she’s used to, and she picks herself up from where the concrete lay, the dust falling from her voile skirt. “No damage done.”

untitled kim taehyung #2* pairing(s): Kim Taehyung/Reader, platonic OT7 genre: fluff, angst tags/warnings: i think it’s schizophrenia?, mental illnesses, depression

SUMMARY/PREVIEW

There is a moment when time stands still. It’s fleeting, escaping the moment your fingers curl around it and pull. But it is during this moment happiness enraptures you with its warm hug as your heart thunders against your chest—the steady thump, thump, thump of a snare drum awakening. It is during this moment pain ceases to exist.

But after, everything will come rushing back.

i have more but these are the ones that are decent, at the very least.

to pass the torch on, i’ll tag @minmelly @kinky-koreans @pasteljeonggukk @haneulismykoreanname @rnjmnster and anyone else who wants to do it! (if you don’t, no pressure. good luck to you and your writing!)

Responses- The Marvel of Trelsi Part IV

Response to this post from BoltonEvans.

“A few assorted notes, because I just can’t keep my big mouth shut:”

:D I love these responses. 

“Gabriella really doesn’t have any real respect for Kelsi or Ryan’s talent and hard work when it isn’t directly benefitting her to care about it. But, then, she doesn’t really care about anyone other than herself, either.”

The ease with which Gabriella abandons her performing commitments, despite being considered to have a love of performing astounds me. In EVERY movie, she quits for reasons that should not actually diminish her love of theatre. If every actor quit their upcoming project because of real/perceived relationship problems, we would have no films, musicals or theatre performances. The result of this selfishness is that Kelsi’s work is almost wasted on three occasions: 1)- Kelsi was excited to have competition against Sharpay and wanted to help Gabriella get the best chance to shine. Gabriella quit because suspiciously timed webcam, 2)- Kelsi took her OWN TIME to write a song for Troy and Gabriella (composing takes HOURS), only for Gabriella to quit because Italian golf shoes. This is a song that Gabriella had initially been so eager to hear. I suppose I can give Gabriella credit for managing to learn “Everyday”, but she should never have quit in the first place, 3)- Kelsi wrote music for another musical, took the trouble to pour her heart and soul into the best possible song to show off (Troy and) Gabriella’s talents, only for Gabriella to quit halfway through again because me, me, me. Not to disparage her academic pursuits, but she refused to return for prom, the musical and the graduation. The evidence is STARING KELSI IN THE FACE, and she still overlooks this each time. What will it honestly take for Kelsi to realize Gabriella simply doesn’t value her hard work and talent enough to even show up for commitments in which she wished to take part?

“One minor correction; Troy says, “The Garden Club is rooting for you.” And, that line, in and of itself, is something I talk mild issue with, since it was the Science Club maintaining the rooftop garden, in the first movie. But, this is the level of continuity I’ve come to expect from the man who changed the spelling of a secondary character’s surname between films.”

Haha! Christ! 

Thanks for the correction. Noted. 

“I’m extremely happy that you mentioned Troy and Ryan’s relationship as an exception to the consistent undermining of the messages of teamwork and friendship this series attempts to drill into the viewers’ heads. I did a thorough breakdown of how the sentiment, “We’re All In This Together” rings profoundly hollow in numerous areas...

 ...And, the little things, like absolutely no one helping Ryan up, or even asking if he was okay, after he face-planted and stained his immaculate white outfit, and the entire senior class save Ryan (who was flustered at the sight of essentially naked male bodies, more than anything else) finding the humiliation of two sophomores absolutely hysterical...

...Regardless, I appreciate the nod to the relationship this fandom collectively ignores altogether when, in actuality, it’s one of the most organic, healthy, and mutually beneficial relationships in the entire series.”

Please do share that link with me when you find it. Yes, I like several things about Troy and Ryan’s friendship: that Troy likes Ryan based on his own merits and not as an accessory to Sharpay, that Ryan doesn’t hold Troy to ludicrous standards or force him into apologizing for things he didn’t do. Chad, Gabriella and the Wildcats became friends with Ryan when they realized they could benefit from his talent and hard work. As for the fandom ignoring this-- well, I don’t know why. They appear to get along very well as far as I can see.

 “Though, I do headcanon, based on Troy making the call to “bring in Rocketman”, during the state championship game in the third movie, that Troy is the team’s key strategist. He often makes the calls that win the day for the Wildcats. This was what got him voted team captain. Therefore, Chad and Coach Bolton ostensibly believing that the entire team is sunk without Troy at the helm, makes a bit more sense.”

That’s a good point, but Coach Bolton is also a strategist and should know better than to not have a Plan B. Not to mention how all this outrage is based on Troy is just rehearsing a couple of songs, with no certainty yet as to whether he might even get the role!

“Kelsi refusing to unfairly malign Troy and keeping up some level of communication with him while everyone else has chosen to give him the cold shoulder is one of the standout Kelsi/Troy moments for me. It shows that, despite her earlier questionable action of taking Troy to task over the requirements of her employment at Lava Springs when he wasn’t even the one who got her the job, she’s loyal to Troy. She didn’t immediately write him off for prioritizing his future, and doesn’t subscribe to groupthink and a mob mentality. She’s honestly one of the only two friends Troy has who acts like a legitimate friend to him, and it will forever pain me how little screentime Troy actually shares with these two characters.”

Kelsi’s earlier decision to blame Troy for a job Sharpay gave her is ridiculous, and I don’t mind saying so. Had she forgotten that Sharpay gave her the job, or was she arguing on behalf of the other Wildcats who were angry? Was she trying to show solidarity with the team? No explanation is given, but that’s usually the case, because the screenwriters didn’t give a toss about Kelsi’s life outside of the main plot. 

“My one and only issue with romantic Troy/Kelsi (aside from my preference for Troy/Ryan and me not quite seeing anything romantic on Troy’s end when he interacts with Kelsi) is Kelsi’s idolization of Gabriella and Troy and Gabriella’s relationship. Whether you view Gabriella as psychologically abusive, or not, the damage she has done to Troy’s self-esteem and image of himself is undeniable. If Troy is ever going to begin recovering from this damage, he’d need a solid, stable support system who would be willing to call Gabriella out on her hypocrisy and mistreatment of him. He would need someone who is quick to point out that a lot of the things Gabriella did were selfish and wrong and Troy is totally undeserving of all of the pain and grief Gabriella caused him. As much as Kelsi cares about Troy, I can’t see her being willing to acknowledge Gabriella’s faults. Admitting that Troy and Gabriella’s relationship isn’t the picture-perfect fairy tale romance that inspires her best musical selections would shatter her entire worldview. She’s still Gabriella’s friend, as well as Troy’s, and I could see her struggling to cope with the reality that Gabriella has hurt Troy in major, major ways. She’d want to be there for Troy, of course, but while comforting him, she’d be nursing the wounds of her own betrayal, and it would take her probably just as long to finally realize that Gabriella wasn’t the sweet, compassionate, brilliant person who changed everyone at East High for the better that Kelsi thought she was, as it would take Troy to realize that Gabriella wasn’t always right and that he deserves so much better.”

This comment covers A LOT of things I will discuss later with regards to romantic Trelsi. I am VERY particular when it comes to how I believe these two would work as a couple, as I will explain later. However, I have touched on the issues you raise in my Thou Shalts/Thou Shalt Nots. It might not come across in my posts, but I don’t think the Trelsi ship would be flawless at all and much of what you’ve said here explains why. Kelsi IS incapable of criticizing Gabriella, and that does present a significant drawback. However, the fact that as his friend, she is also unable to criticize Gabriella is equally, if not more, problematic, because it limits how well she can help him heal. Whether it’s Trelsi friendship or romance, in a realistic portrayal, Kelsi would suffer for her hero worship either way. (As would Troy). That’’s why I don’t like gooey, saccharine Trelsi fics, because they don’t highlight these problems. They just replace one superficial portrayal with another. 

“I love the idea of Troy being there to console Kelsi when her relationship with Jason dissolves for whatever reason. That’s a wonderful headcanon. I could also see Ryan potentially offering her the needed emotional support.”

Thanks, although it was mostly your analysis that prompted me. My analysis of Kelsi and Jason is upcoming in future posts, because that links to the potential of Trelsi romance.

Love that picture! 

★.•**•.★ NEW RELEASE CHAPTER BLOG TOUR ★.•**•.★

YES ! We get to have Gina Wynn’s Newest release What You Wish For. Part 1

Readers, every day you get a snippet of chapter 1. Don’t forget to follow so you don’t miss a bit.

Title: What you wish for

Author: Gina Wynn

Genre: Romantic, Woman Fiction

Release Date: May 12

Tour Date: May 9 - 12

Hosted By Teaser Addicts PR

BLURB

When Maggie Forrester wakes up naked in bed with her boss, iceman Will Brian, she's sure it must be a dream. Or a feverish hallucination at the very least. But magic takes over when she begins to experience an impossible other life—complete with an alternate husband—and she's forced to confront the reality of the man she loves versus the man she's fallen in love with.

After secrets she believed long buried surface, both of Maggie's realities are threatened. As the truth of her past comes to light, she must decide which man she truly loves and which life she wants to live—if the choice is even hers to make. Sometimes, true love is even worth wishing for.

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Chapter 1 Part 1

His knee rested against the back of my leg. A possessive arm wrapped over my waist, and a forehead nestled against my hair. Jake must have arrived home earlier than he expected from the stag weekend and melded to me during the night. We lay skin against skin, and I relaxed into his hold as warmth and familiarity seeped from him. The bubble of safety only my husband could provide surrounded me.

A smile tugged the corner of my lips as naughty thoughts of pleasure yet-to- come flashed through my head. I didn’t even bother to open my eyes as I wriggled around to return his hug, being sure to inject enough movement to bounce him awake. His chest rose and fell against my cheek with his every breath, and his heartbeat thudded in my ear. Home was where that heart was.

“Good morning, Maggie.” His melted chocolate voice, still drowsy with sleep, tickled my neck.

Not Jake.

Panic jolted me as my eyes flew open, and I launched over the side of the bed, failing in my attempt to look away as I did so. With the long glance I took by mistake, I’d require brain bleach to scrub him from my mind. I huddled out of his line of sight with my stare—strong enough to have burnt a hole through the man—firmly fixed on unfamiliar carpet.

Bloody hell. My boss. All of him. In the bed I’d exited at warp speed.

I risked another quick glance in his direction. He lay propped on his side, dark hair tousled, smiling at me in a new lazy way. Bloody, bloody hell. I repeat, my boss. My boss, Will Brian.

Never Will Brian, always Mr. Brian. I corrected myself to the office formality he insisted on as I tried to look at him without seeing anything but his face. Holy chest skin, Batman. Well-defined muscular temptation in flesh form. Mr. Brian with really sexy bedhead. Bloody hell, again.

The horror crawling through me shut down all rational thought, narrowing my entire focus to the bedroom. His bedroom?

One room. Me. Him.

Nothing else.

The devil had woken up with frostbite. It was the only possible explanation to my world going mad. I inhaled a shaky breath, my brain stuck on one thought. Mr. Brian. Surely, I harboured zero attraction to him? Especially as he favoured issuing orders to me in a snappy coffee-breath voice in our usual day-to-day routine. Waking in his arms was quite the quantum leap from our normal yes, Mr. Brian, of course, Mr. Brian, I’ll hold all your calls, Mr. Brian relationship.

I closed my eyes against the view, although it didn’t help me ignore him. His image had seared itself to the inside of my eyelids, and no girl wanted a permanent reminder of her boss.

Really. No attraction, whatsoever. None at all. Because I’d never noticed his tight, firm... Never mind. Or the way he walked as

I followed him along the corridor at work. Okay. So, I’d taken a non-existent—or maybe ever-so-slight—inappropriate boss fantasy right to sleeping in bed with the man. I’d come a long way.

I’d have said my wisdom was on the line, except ending up in his bed rated way worse than unwise. Spelling Mr. Brian as Mr. Brain on company documents was unwise—and stupid. Filing January invoices in December was unwise—and, according to Mr. Brian, worse than stupid. This...this verged on being very, very bad—and so much more than stupid. Unforgiveable, if I forced myself to be honest.

Note to self: Career suicide—never the way to ask for a pay increase.

“What, no ‘good morning, Will’?” He chuckled, and I didn’t know if my sudden goose bumps came from extreme lack of blankets or the unnervingly attractive sound of his amusement.

His laughter, somehow hauntingly familiar and comforting, wrapped me in unexpected safety. He never laughed at the office or, if he did, he went somewhere private to do it. Either way, he never seemed to find anything funny about working.

In our office.With me at his professional beck and call. The fact I relaxed a little in his presence must have been the result of my

aspirations to find my inner Zen one day. I channelled Yoda and did imaginary breathing exercises, then clamped down on my bubble of hysteria before it rose any

further up my throat. Relaxation, inner calm, and enlightenment? Not likely. I flashed a quick grimace, hoping to trigger the off-switch to my inner-monologue.

“Um. Hi...Will.” My voice came out part mumble, part squeak, as I crouched by the bed, still refusing to look at him as I referred to my always-formal boss by his first name in the most ridiculous of situations.

“Did I scare you?”

I dared a hasty glance, and he arched an eyebrow in amusement. Heat rushed through me, then cold horror as fresh awareness dawned. My buttocks rested on my calves as I squatted. My nipples hardened in the cool air as I huddled outside the covers. I was naked.

The situation couldn’t get worse.

Trying my best for nonchalance, I grasped the closest corner of the duvet and inched it towards me, intent on hiding as much flesh as possible. I released a slow, shallow breath as each fractional movement concealed more of my awkward form.

“Hey!” With laughter in his tone, he snagged the high thread-count covers back to his side of the bed. “You’re making me cold!”

I risked another peek over at him before searing afresh at his identical extreme lack of clothes. Naked...in bed. Oh God, naked in bed with my naked boss. No memory of getting there. And I’d started to grow cold again, too.

Note to self: Things could always get worse. Always.

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AUTHOR BIO

From a magical land of castles and kings (Okay, it’s England), Gina doesn’t feel as old as she looks, owns three children who can’t be tamed, and writes in spare – usually stolen – time. She sometimes bakes—not always with quite the desired results, and has found the only solution to keeping the characters in her head quiet is to placate them with lots of other lovely books and worlds. She has been published by Decadent Publishing, who currently have two of her books, both of which are romance titles – “Her Dollmaker’s Desire” and “Her Undercover Christmas”.

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Website: http://ginawriteswords.com/

Email: [email protected]

First Adventure Continued...

A and I went outside on the balcony for some fresh air. People started talking with one another while I just listened. There was a man who came up and tried talking to me. I awkwardly answered all his questions but didn't know what to say to continue the conversation. Which is what usually happens in new social settings with me. A told me she'd be right back and then disappeared inside. My heart squeezed and did a shiver. She left me alone and with people I didn't know. I didn't really know her but I kind of did. People don't really realize I have social anxiety or what it really does to me. I prefer people to not know because I get embarrassed about it. But when she left me and went inside it felt like my insides started to panic. He man kept trying to talk to me but it was hard to concentrate. I mostly smiled and nodded and looked for any escape. I finally broke and excused myself to go inside when I saw A inside on the couch. She smiled and patted the couch beside her. I still had anxiety but it started to calm back down. Being squeezed between two people also helped. It wasn't so out in the open. However, only a few minutes later we were taken into the back room. One of the girls hopped up on a table/bed (not sure what it's called). She took her shirt and bra off. She did it so naturally as if it wasn't a big deal. Shockingly, I wasn't nervous or embarrassed by it. It seemed natural to me too. That may sound weird but I only tell the truth. One of the men set up an electrical machine and started touching the girl. I never had heard of electronic play until that moment. It was so fascinating and exciting. I even went and touched her arm to feel the electricity. It was all tingly like a tickling massage. There were people like me who liked it but also others I noticed who didn't like it or thought it hurt. After awhile I moved on to a different area. Off to one corner there was someone being canned. In a different corner A was up against the St Andrews Cross. I went over to her and her girlfriend. Her girlfriend (whom I will call F) put fingerless gloves on. F started punching A's butt. I'd never seen anyone do that before either but A seemed to enjoy it. After awhile I went and watched a man rope another man. It was interesting and very artistic. Rope is an art in my eyes. A came up to me and convinced me to let K show me impact play. I was so nervous almost backed out but then I told myself I was being silly. This is what I've been waiting for. It makes me very tingly to watch but now I will find out how it feels. They told me I could keep my clothes on so it made it much easier for me. I'm not confident with my self image. I'm overweight and have cellulite and stretch marks. I walked over to the St Andrews Cross. I'm 4'11 so it was huge to me. K came over and positioned me where I was leaning slightly forward with me butt sticking out. "You have the perfect bottom for this" she told me. It's probably because I have a large butt. She showed me each item and explained about it before she used it on me. The first few she used on me felt like little taps. It really didn't do anything for me. I started to get a bit disappointed. I thought to myself that maybe I'm more kinky than others. There are quite a few fantasies of mine that I always thought people would look down on me for. *wack* Mmmm... what was that!? I instantly got wet between my thighs. *wack* Mmmm tingles between my legs. She stopped looked at me and asked if I was okay. I smiled, a bit embarrassed and said yes. She asked how I liked them and I told her the truth. I told her I didn't really feel the first few but that last one I really liked. In my head I was sad she stopped. She had smiled and said "if you liked that you'll probably enjoy this." I turned and looked. It was a single tail whip. *snap* then a baby sting hit my butt. I thought it would have been painful. I mean she is whipping me with a whip! But nope! I loved it. *snap* all of the people and voices disappeared. I was calm. My anxiety gone, all of it. *snap* Mmmm I didn't want it to stop. But all of a sudden it stopped. I turned around and there were several people there watching. But I didn't even care. A new different feeling came over me. I liked that they were watching. Me a person who has social anxiety. A person who hates being in the spot light. I liked it and I wanted to strip naked and keep going. Who was this person? I hated my body. But the stings felt so good. She should two of the men a different type of toy and I shockingly asked for her to use it on me. She smiled and agreed. I turned back around and waited *crack* oh my god that was the best so far. It looked like a flogger but had little pieces on the ends of each strand that looked like barb wire. Multiple little stings all at once. She only did a couple and I was truly sad it wasn't more. She smiled and told me that I'm a masochist. I would have never thought I would be. But she was right. I have a masochist side to me. My pain tolerance ha always been different than other peoples. I know I don't feel as much pain as other people but I still wouldn't have guessed before that night. I went and found A and F. A was cleaning the station where the electrical play was. She smiled and asked me how I was doing. I smiled back and told her I was having fun. She then asked if I wanted to try something else. I got embarrassed (don't know why). F smiled at me. I told them I didn't know what I wanted to try. I was embarrassed to ask and not only that but the more I thought about it the more I couldn't think of anything. So they suggested rope. F told the rope guy that I was coming over. I walked over there and introduced myself. He was very nice and had a kind smile. I instantly felt as though I could trust him. He asked if I had any medical issues and I told him that I have a bad neck. I was nervous that me having a bad neck meant he wouldn't do anything but to my surprise and excitement he acknowledged it and explained what he was going to do. He said he's do something simple so I'd get the feel of it and that if for some reason I need to be untied fast then he'd cut the ropes off. I must have had a look on my face because he smiled and said it would be no big deal because he makes rope and has plenty of it. I looked around and noticed several people were naked. Both men and woman. Everyone made it seem so natural. There were also people of all sizes. Some skinnier and some bigger than me. No one judged or criticized the bigger women. I've always been lectured and criticized for my weight. Anytime I wasn't skinny I'd hear it from my family, friends and my ex. Being overweight is just not acceptable in my world. Though I've never judged people who were. So to my surprise, I took off my shirt and bra. Everyone had been very nice and welcoming. I felt comfortable taking my top off. I've never done it before but I did. I looked around and no one looked disgusted with me so I relaxed a bit. His touch was soothing and experienced. As the rope glided across my breasts and around my torso I tuned everything else out. Once he was done he tugged on the rope and pulled be backwards towards his chest. That one movement set my body on fire. He asked how I was going and all I could get out was "good." Him asking brought my attention back to my surroundings. I looked across the room and saw A and F watching and smiling at me. Normally I'd wonder if they were making fun of me or thinking I was stupid or something was wrong with me. But as I looked at them and their smiling faces I noticed their smiles were honest. Them smiling and watching me made me feel more comfortable and the experience more enjoyable. Then Mr rope man dragged his fingers across the tops of my breasts then slides the end of the rope down my stomach as he started to unravel me. The way he was touching me was so erotic and mesmerizing. His smile and his touch had me in a frenzy. I did not want him to stop. I wanted him to take me further. But he did stop and it came to an end. If I'm to be honest, I still think about his touch and the way it made me feel. The night came to an end. In that one night I had felt more comfortable in my body than I had ever been. And then I became hooked even more. I knew without a doubt the kink world is my world and I can never go back to the vanilla world ever again.

Finding Goddess (Chapter Five)

"This is the place."

"This is the place?"

Carol and Henrietta had to just about peel their jaws off the floor as the car pulled into the parking lot where the strangest building they ever saw awaited them. To call it a building, though, would be like calling Mount Everest a hill. For one thing, it didn't look like it had been built, but carved out of stone. Not just any stone either, but from a great boulder in the Senora Desert, if the fiery hue it was gleaming with was anything to go by. Narrow windows lined the walls without betraying what lied within. Stone columns akin to those built by the architects of Rome held the roof up on either side of the entranceway. And to the back rose a great stepped pyramid that could have easily belonged to the Incas had it not been constructed of the same reddish stone as the rest of the temple. It was like someone had taken the ruins of multiple ancient civilizations from all across the globe and mashed them into a single structure.

But as bizarre as all of that was, none of it held a candle to the many images of nude female figures that decorated the whole thing. They were carved into the walls, on the columns, as archways over the windows, and even as gargoyles on the rooftop. Some seemed to be on guard like sentinels, others almost looked to be staring enticingly at the viewer with hunger in their blank eyes, and others looked as though they were committing, or about to commit, even more lewd acts with each other or themselves. It was definitely beyond what could be presented in public as proper art.

"What is this?" Carol asked as she gazed upon the building from where she sat in the backseat.

"This is the New Deastone Temple of Zenriah," said Maisie, who was sitting next to her. "Our main place of worship."

"Looks...interesting," said Henrietta, though it was clear that wasn't the first word that had come to her mind.

As the three women exited the car, Maisie turned to the only clothed member of their troop with a serious expression. "Now, before we proceed, you have to understand that this is a holy place. We Zenrists venerate the female body in all its perfection, and as such, we insist that women only enter in their perfect states."

"So you mean...I have to be nude?"

"Exactly."

"I see. Guess I should have figured." Henrietta paused and brought a finger to her lips as she took a moment to mull things over.

Maisie nodded sympathetically at her. "If you don't want to, I suppose we could—"

"No, no! I'll do it, I'll do it! I want to see what this religion is all about too. And besides...it has been kind of strange walking around with clothes on next to you two nudies."

Quickly, she set about taking her clothes off, pulling her blue summer blouse over her head and slipping her denim shorts down her legs. Hastily, she stowed them in the car, and then reached behind her to set about taking off her bra. However, the moment her thumbs hooked onto the strap of her bra, she stopped again and started nervously nibbling on her lip as doubt started to leave its mark on her face.

Carol could only shake her head at her girlfriend. Henri was no prude, she didn't have any inhibitions whenever she was in the company of friends or lovers, and she made it no secret that she greatly enjoyed Carol's near constant nudity whenever they were together in either of their homes. But being around a crazy nudist like Carol hadn't rubbed off on her; Henrietta still had the old taboos that society drilled into its citizens. She was shy being undressed around strangers, and likely paralyzed about the prospect of being nude in public. Carol honestly didn't know what her problem was. Henrietta looked good in her 36-year-old body, sporting some impressive D-cup breasts that stood out especially well on her slim figure, and bearing a healthy tan that went well with her wavy auburn hair. She honestly didn't think Henrietta had anything to be ashamed of. But alas...

After appearing to take a moment to steel herself, the underwear-clad woman looked like she was about ready to unhook her bra, when a motorcycle suddenly blazed down the road past them, its engine roaring like an angry beast! It would have sent most birds flying, most mice scurrying, and most half-naked women into hiding. And true to form, Henrietta hid, diving behind her car with an appropriately mousy squeak!

"You don't need to be afraid," said Maisie. "Women come and go here naked all the time, even non-Zenrists. No one's going to raise a fuss if they see you naked around a Temple of Zenriah."

"That's...not the problem," mumbled Henrietta.

"She's not like us," said Carol. "She's afraid of being seen naked."

"Ah," said Maisie. "If it's that big an issue for you, then I guess you could finish stripping down right outside the entrance. No one'll see you there."

"Really? Um, okay, I'll do that then. That sounds reasonable."

After making sure no other cars would be coming, Henrietta darted to the entrance where her two nude companions were waiting for her. However, she didn't have time to take a deep breath to mentally prepare herself, for Maisie seized the hem of her white panties and yanked them down her legs the moment she stopped moving.

"Hey! What are you doing?" she cried.

"Just getting this over with," giggled the blonde. "You got a pretty nice butt if I do say so myself. Could use a bit more color though; all-over tans are so much more sexy than lines."

"Good plan," Carol added with a wry smirk. "Think I'll help you!" And in one swift motion, she unhooked her friend's bra and whipped it off her before she realized what was going on.

"What the...Carol, not you too!"

"Heh, heh, yes, me too!" Now that she was getting more and more familiar with this town's nudity laws and was well aware that she was in no legal danger as long as she had Maisie with her, the nervousness Carol felt earlier was swiftly dissipating. And with it, she was starting to feel a twinge of her younger and more mischievous self again. The version of her that found many more excuses to revel in her nudity. And the version of her that thought it was high time to give Henrietta some much needed payback.

"Now that we're all proper and naked, let's head inside already" said Maisie as she pushed the double doors open.

Carol expected to find a great many things behind those doors. Rows of seats set before an altar. Maybe some musical instruments of sorts, like an organ. Statues and shrines for people to pray to. Paintings and tapestries of whatever iconography this religion had, like that tattoo Maisie bore. And of course, there would have to be a box or something where you would drop your monetary donations into. No place of worship would be complete without one of those.

But she did not expect to see this. A large, open circular room, so ambiently lit, it might as well have been illuminated with candles. Gossamer pink drapes hanging here and there from the ceiling to give the impression that the whole place was some kind of canopy bed. A plush red quilt running from one end of the room to the other and dotted with pillows that seemed to be strewn about and stacked on top of each other with no apparent rhyme or reason. But what she most definitely did not expect to find was the vast lake of female flesh.

She didn't know how many girls there were, it was impossible to see them all, but there had to be at least a couple dozen of many shapes and sizes. There were slender girls and there were curvy girls. There were pixie-cut girls and there were Rapunzel-haired girls. There were light girls and there were dark girls. There were flat girls and there were busty girls. There were naked girls and...

There were only naked girls. Not a single woman present was wearing a scrap of clothing. They were all naked. Naked as jaybirds. Naked as the days they were born. Naked as...as...as Carol herself! And they were all just lying still, peaceful and content in their nakedness and the nakedness of their fellow girls, wrapped up in each other's arms. She could just walk up to them, lie her naked body down amongst them, and let them envelop her eternally in their warm embrace.

With one hand on her breast and the other creeping to her crotch, which was beginning to tingle with arousal again, Carol stepped forward, intent on doing just that.

"Hmmm, mraauueerrr!" went off a husky, cat-like purr behind her.

"Wh-what the...?" Henrietta gasped in response.

"Ahhhh..." murmured another voice, softer than the last and as sweet as honey.

"Oh God!" Henrietta whimpered, not in surprise, not in fear, but in arousal. "Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh—"

Carol looked behind her to see what was bothering her. She was treated to the sight of her naked red-haired friend engulfed from the waist down not by one, not by two, but three equally naked lovelies. One girl with a mop of chocolate hair was embracing her left leg, running her chest up and down it, between the valley of her breasts. Another girl was hugging her right leg, looking directly up into Henrietta's eyes as she tasted the older woman's bare flesh with long, lecherous licks of her tongue. The final girl had her head buried in Henri's crotch, and by the way it was grinding smooth, graceful circles into it, and moaning damply in between breaths, it was clear she was going in deep, deep inside the redheaded woman, and enjoying it thoroughly.

"Henri?" Carol whispered, confused as to what was happening. Where did those girls come from? How did they come alive so fast? She could have sworn they were asleep when she came in.

"Ohhh-oh-ho! Gaaaawwwwwwwd!" Henrietta uttered, before she was pulled to the floor. As she was laid down on her back, the girls descended upon her like a swarm, covering her body with their own until there was no sign that she was there and had ever been there, save for the swaying, rippling motions of three nubile bodies grinding upon her.

"Henri?" Carol said again.

"Ce-Celeste!" Maisie called out ahead of Carol. "My love! I-I come...with seekers! I —OH!"

Carol whipped her gaze away from where Henrietta had been just in time to see more naked girls pulling Maisie to the floor with them. The blonde did nothing to stop them; she allowed herself to melt in their grasp until she was little more than another expanse of writhing naked flesh in the pile.

What's going on?

Things were moving too fast for Carol to comprehend. She came to this temple to learn about Zenrism, but it seemed like all she was about to do was partake in some kind of lesbian orgy. Bare naked flesh was all around her in quantities she never thought she'd see in person, the unmistakable moans of sexual pleasure were filling her ears, and she could smell and taste the aroma of growing ecstasy with every breath she took. It was...it was like any moment, now, she'd be pulled into a pile herself, just like her friends had been! She could already feel the fingers snaking around her waist, ready to yank her to the ground and completely envelop her. And she was quite certain she would not be able to resist either...

Two great mounds of warmth pressed into Carol's bare back as something, or rather someone, pulled her into a tight embrace from behind. Her buttocks quivered and clenched as soft hairs lightly brushed against them, tickling them slightly. The stranger prodded lightly into her hair and inhaled deeply, almost as though she was sniffing it. And then, after breathing hotly on Carol's earlobe, which elicited another shiver from the single mother, the figure giggle huskily.

"You better take care wandering into the middle of a Gathering, childe," she whispered in a voice as smooth as silk and wet as dew. "It has a gravity of its own that can pull even the most accomplished woman into its depths."

"Who...who are you?" Carol asked, suddenly feeling like she had become the smallest person in the world, though she had not the slightest clue why she felt that way.

The figure's face hovered into view from the side, and Carol all of a sudden found herself looking into two dark orbs surrounded by what she guessed was a mane of liquid fire. "I am Celeste. And I think you and I need to have a more private talk...Caroline Connors."