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shellyb04 · 3 years

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And here we are, all caught up. You'll notice I fell into a bit of a Chinese drama and historical hole for these last ones! I will try to post as I finish shows so I can give a bit more of a review. Enjoy!

A love so romantic (Cdrama)-Girl pretends to be a long lost granddaughter of the Gu family and falls for the Gu family heir. 8/10 Very funny. The last ten episodes get a bit annoying with dumb amnesia and such, but overall really funny main couple.

The Greatest Love (Kdrama)-An A-list movie star with a heart condition meets former girl group member and now most disliked celebrity. Against all odds, he falls for her. 9/10 This is extremely funny and a bit tropey, but it gets major bonus points for the ending. There's no crazy amnesia or unreasonable misunderstandings. Their dilemma at the end makes sense and wasn't dragged out for too long. There was a bit in the middle where she was trying to reject him that dragged for me and I didn't like the other girl group members very much. But overall, really fun.

The Rebel Princess (Cdrama)-A princess is forced to marry a general turned prince instead of her childhood sweetheart prince. They ultimately fall for each other and endure war, kidnapping, betrayal, and every other kind of misfortune that can happen in a historical drama. 9/10 This drama was refreshing because the couple was so amazing together. They were kind as well as cunning. They were the only characters not seeking power and I just loved the way they worked. It does get a little draggy during some of the palace politics. I also think some of the villians didn't think through their plans. But overall, the leads made the show. Although there are some genuinely heartbreaking moments and too many women committing suicide.

Love Script (Cdrama)- A CEO gets into an accident and believes he's a Prince from the Ming Dynasty. A psychologist is hired and she becomes part of the palace staff in order to treat him. But she begins to fall for him. 8/10 I liked all the characters. It's a really light show and there's a couple of plot twists that ultimately made the lead romance work for me. There were a few too many flashbacks and I found myself skipping through them a lot.

A Girl Like Me (Cdrama)- Ban Hua has three failed engagements, partially because of her blunt manner and explosive temper. She begins getting visions of the future and uses them to save her family from trouble, along with Rong Xia who has his own agenda...but will he be distracted by Ban Hua!? 8.5/10 I really liked this one. The story moved along rather quickly. I love that the Ban family are perfectly happy in their little sphere of life. They adore each other and simply want their family to be happy. The only real negatives are that I don't think some of the villain plots made sense especially toward the end and I thought the last two episodes should have wrapped up the story not made more characters power hungry and foolish. Overall, I really liked it, especially Ban Hua and Rong Xia's banter and courtship.

My little happiness (Cdrama)-An intern lawyer and a successful neurosurgeon who were childhood sweethearts meet again as adults only she never knew his name. Watch the duo fall in love. 8/10 This is a pleasant little ditty with no big problems. The relationship between the main girl and her best friend feels super real to me. I love both main couples. It's a simple sweet sappy love story. There's never any doubt how it will end so just enjoy the sweetness.

Oh! My Sweet Liar! (Cdrama)-Historical- A female painter infiltrates the home of a noble family to paint a copy of a precious item. When her escape goes wrong, she fakes a pregnancy by the family heir to save her life. They make a contract marriage so he can escape an arranged marriage he doesn't want. But there are secrets and plotting people throughout the family home. 8.5/10 I really liked the majority of the show. It was a bit slow the second arc of the show and really the last three eps could have been a bit more streamlined, but I loved the Li family. It was so nice to see the love between the family.

Shopaholic Louis (Kdrama)- A wealthy heir gets amnesia and is found by a poor country girl newly arrived in Seoul to look for her brother. The two fall for each other while searching together. 8.5/10 Super cute. I loved the main couple the whole way through. The side characters grew on me as well. It was a nice sweet story overall.

Love in Time-Cdrama- Writer and a CEO were friends in Jr high but had a falling out. Present day they enter a contract marriage. 8/10 A point bump for 30 minute episodes. The story was sweet and simple with a few pleasant turns. The last episode is a bit dumb. I would've rather just had more epilogue than a faked amnesia plot. I liked the side friendships, but wish the "villain" had a better motivation. Just " I loved him and worked hard for him so he should be mine" obsession got old. The tropes were in full display so avoid if you hate those.

Love and Destiny-Cdrama- A young immortal wanders into the wrong place and awakens the God of War. He discovers a secret about her even she doesn't know. The two fall in love, but bad things happen. Can they overcome destiny with love? 7/10- This one seemed to be a bit long at 60 episodes and it took WAY too long to get started. But by episode 14 or 15 I was completely into the love story and most of the side characters. The two "villains" were annoying but ultimately I understood their choices even if I felt they were immature. Overall, it's good, but a little too slow in some places and the last ten episodes could have given me some more couple moments.

Divorce lawyer in love (Kdrama)- She's a tough as nails divorce lawyer and he's her office manager until she goes to far in a case and her license is suspended. Three years later she's the office manager and he's the lawyer and he sees his chance for some payback.. Enemies to friends to lovers. 8/10 It has its funny moments. I enjoy most of the "case of the week" stories. I thought the resolution to the main antagonist was a bit hand wavy, but overall, solid and enjoyable with mostly fun side characters.

The Sword and the Brocade (Cdrama)- A concubine's daughter marries a Marquis in an arranged marriage. She has to deal with conniving concubines, controlling mother and mother-in-law, as well as a family that doesn't want her around, and a rival family all while trying to continue her embroidery career. 7.5/10 Started out fairly strong but toward the end it felt really drawn out. I feel like the last two plots should have been more combined cause it really dragged the pace of the show down. The characters were good. I liked most of the characters a lot, but a few began to make weird decisions toward the end.

The Eternal Love (Cdrama)- Modern woman sucked to alternate past where she has to share her doppelganger's body. The two with the help of their maid try to figure out what's going on. But things are complicated as each soul is in love with a different prince.,-6/10 The story is okay, although the last four episodes are weird. Chemistry with the leads is fabulous. Really not great production quality. I couldn't get through Season 2.

Eternal Love/Ten Miles of Peach Blossom (Cdrama)- Bai Qian and Ye Hua are star crossed immortals who fall in love in three different but intertwined lives. 9.5/10 Started off slow, then got wonderful about ep 10, then pain and misery for a few eps before back to joy and falling in love and back to pain. But one of the best revenge scenes by Bai Qian! I sort of hated that basically every other couple seems doomed. I tried to watch the pillow book before this and just got bored. I may go back to it someday as I love that couple.

General's Lady (Cdrama)- independent noble sent to marry the "demon" general at the border only to fall in love with him. However there are factions trying to harm them. 9/10 Super light and sweet with lots of kisses. I got a bit bored a little past the middle of the drama when they went back to the capital. But the last several episodes brought me back around and I laughed out loud multiple times. Love all the couples throughout and how it showed there were multiple ways to be a strong woman.

#kdrama #cdrama #A love so romantic #The greatest love #the rebel princess #Love script #A girl like me #My little happiness #Oh! My sweet Liar!#shopaholic louis #love in time #love and destiny #divorce lawyer in love #the sword and the brocade #the eternal love #tmopb #eternal love #General's Lady

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ddarker-dreams · 4 years

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Fallen From Grace. Yan Giorno x Reader [COMM]

Giorno has given you too many gifts to count.

This benevolent act serves multiple purposes, culminating towards the goal of making your time here better. He doesn’t shy away from the reality of what he’s doing to you, the extent of your loneliness after being displaced. Forcing himself to remember this bitter truth keeps him from getting complacent, striving to make your experience all the better.

No detail is to be overlooked. In what little free time Giorno has, he molds your surroundings to your liking. The meals that are planned for you consist of high nutritional value, often rotating your favorites with only the best ingredients and chefs to prepare them. Your wardrobe is full of outfits tailored to your measurements and tastes. Rare and ethereal flowers span across the master bedroom you share with Giorno, him creating them with the purpose of soothing you.

For all this effort, Giorno never has an expectation for your gratitude. He doesn’t believe he deserves it, having stolen you from your normal life. He’s the reason for the tear soaked pillows, the restless nights and detached demeanor you’ve adopted. Whether it’s to ease the guilt that suffocates his heart, or to see your eyes light up for only a moment, Giorno tends to you.

This custom, handmade journal is one he gave you at the start of your time here. With you receiving limited human interaction, Giorno found it important for you to have a way to express your thoughts. While you were initially antagonistic towards him about the journal, you began to use it. He lets you hide it from him, letting you believe it’s out of his reach for peace of mind.

Ironic as it may sound, Giorno respected you by never laying a finger on it. The overwhelming temptation of learning his beloved’s most inner thoughts isn’t lost on him. He could read it and place it back to its original spot without you being none the wiser. For months, he made a point in refusing this alluring idea.

That is, until this very second.

Sitting on his dark mahogany desk, is the journal that contains your private thoughts and experiences. Giorno’s eyelids flutter shut, a soft sigh leaving his lips. Leaning further into his chair, he gives more thought to the situation. The forbidden fruit lays before him, ready to give knowledge he shouldn’t have.

There’s a grander reason for this dilemma. When spending time with you, Giorno is keen to pick up every nuance of your behavior. It’s a trait of his that has followed him since childhood. Every twitch of your mouth or hesitation in your voice paints a larger picture. He’s capable of reading you, knowing your thoughts before you even know them yourself. This often works out in his favor.

But lately, when he speaks to you, something feels different. In a way that doesn’t make sense. You still hold apparent dislike for him, but you avoid eye contact less. There’s a sense of underlying assurance, like you’re privy to information that he isn’t. It gets under his skin, eating him from the inside out.

No longer do you threaten him with bitter words, detailing your resentment towards him. You seem content to sit in his presence, talking casually about what you’ve done that day and asking him the same. He won’t lie and say he doesn’t like the development. But his gut tells him there’s a malicious intent laced in your new behavior.

What are you hiding from him?

The realm of possibilities is few and far between, and Giorno considers every possibility. None of his theories placate a voice in his head, a gnawing that something is very wrong. Talking to you and asking questions laced with hidden agendas has led to no discoveries, options growing limited to discover the truth.

Running his fingertips over the spine of your journal, he gingerly opens to the first page. It’s a dirty feeling to be doing this, invading your privacy behind your back. He’s done worse for the sake of your well being, the justification spurring him to continue on to the next page. It contains your first entry.

“I didn’t want to write this. Putting the words into paper almost feels like I’m accepting the reality of what’s happening to me, this parody of a life. I don’t have much else to do to pass the time.

Even my hobbies bring me little joy, knowing who set them up for me like a doll in a dollhouse. Focusing is another thing entirely. How can I focus knowing I’m always being monitored to some degree? Even as I write this, I wonder who’s watching me.

In the past, when I felt anxious, I’d write. And well… anxiety is the heartbeat of my life now. Everyday I wake up, more numb than the last. All I look forward to is when I’ll sleep next. At least then I don’t have to feel anything, I can just exist without trying. There’s nothing else for me to say.”

He knew this wasn’t going to be easy. Giorno’s lips curl down into a frown, his eyebrows furrowing and stomach dropping. Seeing the depths of your pain so tangible, in your own words, kills a piece of his soul. It’d be an insult to you to waver now, he thinks, resolve staying firm. Not wanting to invade your privacy more than necessary, he skims through more entries in hopes of finding any leads on your current behavior.

“It’s already been three months since I’ve begun living here, if you can even call it that. I’ve gotten better at spotting the guards. I like to think of it as a little game. They’re good, I give them that. But when you have nothing to do, living in a house with no noise, it grows easier to listen. To notice things I wouldn’t have before.

Maybe I’m going stir crazy. I don’t like knowing how I’m being monitored, but I’ve grown accustomed to it. I hate to admit how he was right , when he said I’d grow accommodated to this with time. I don’t want to. I don’t want to learn to live like this. But I can’t stop it. Resisting the inevitable is a pointless waste of energy, which I hardly have anymore.”

Giorno picks up on your lack of mentioning him by name. In most of your entries, you avoid even insinuating to his existence when possible. It’s a cold sensation, knowing who he loves most omits him at every chance. He understands -- it’s what he deserves after putting you through this isolation -- yet the complex hurt remains prevalent. Every word stingers more than the last.

He soldiers on, searching through more entries.

“I wonder if they’re allowed to talk to me. When I call out to the occasional shadow, or creak in a room beside me, there’s no response. But I know they’re here, I’ve seen him giving them orders in the past when I pretend to sleep. It’s always in hushed whispers, as if anything they say could surprise me.

I just want to talk to someone. Someone that isn’t him. Someone that doesn’t avoid my gaze like everyone else here. It makes me feel like I’m a disgusting sight to behold, even though I know why they look away. The guilt from witnessing what they do, outweighed by their longing for money. I hate it. It makes me hate them. At least look at me, like I’m a human.

They’re spineless cowards. All of them. Disgusting subhumans that take a paycheck over my suffering. I hate them so much, almost more than I hate him.”

Giorno freezes, noticing small crinkles in the paper towards the end of this entry. Signs that you must’ve been crying, he deduces. God. He wants to tell himself that it’s worse than he thought, but that’d be a lie. All along he’s been aware of the great extents of your suffering, all pointing back to him.

Running a hand through his hair, loose from its normal styling, Giorno wonders if he should stop now. Every word is like a nail in the coffin of his heart, paining him in more ways he thought possible. Making difficult decisions has come as second nature to him, so he preserves on.

“Yesterday was my birthday. What a shitty thing to realize. I got a lot of things. More than I ever had gotten before. More offline games, clothes, perfume, shoes, jewelry, and even a painting. By the looks of it I think it’s rare, but who gives a fuck.

An interesting development occurred. One of my guards, if that’s what you’d even call them, approached me. He had just gotten off the phone, and informed me that my plans for the day were going to be different. Apparently the big boss got held up at work, so he wouldn’t be joining me for dinner.

Am I supposed to be upset about that? Well, I certainly wasn’t. Who cares. Seeing him would just make me feel worse. I hate how out of control I feel like he’s around. I almost find myself forgetting about all he’s done, when he speaks to me so calmly. Just thinking about it makes me feel dirty, like I should shower.

I didn’t see a point in responding at first. But eventually, I spoke up before the guard could leave. I asked him why he was okay with this, what he sees everyday. He didn’t offer a response. But I noticed something. His breath hitched, I’m sure of it.

Maybe there is another human being in this pseudo-prison after all.”

A painful reminder of the past. It did hurt him at the time to have to miss out on an important day with you, even though Giorno was self aware to know his presence brought you little comfort. There had been emergency phone calls over an attack from former Passione members, retaliating for losing drug related income.

The timing of it was awful, just thinking back to it reminds Giorno of the impatience he felt then. Hours were spent personally dealing with cleaning up what had happened, meaning he wasn’t able to see you as was originally planned. Orders were given back home to inform you of this change, though it’s now evident it impacted Giorno more than you.

The last section piques his interest. You felt you had noticed guilt in one of the guards? The pool of men that Giorno had carefully sifted through are no strangers to witnessing barbaric acts. Such is the life of a gangster. In your state of heightened emotions, there’s a possibility you could’ve imagined it.

The journal goads him to continue, unraveling the mysteries of your heart.

“I’ve gotten better at spotting the guards.

I can’t believe something like this is exciting to me, but it is these days. It’s kinda funny in a pathetic way, watching as they shrink back when I spot them. The guard from before is the one I recognize the most. I pretended to be hurt, and he came out of the shadows to check on me.

I guess he wasn’t expecting me to turn around looking fine after my acting, because he didn’t leave right away. Before he got the chance, I asked what his name is. He sighed, probably relieved that he wouldn’t have to report to his boss about me being harmed. He said his name is Marco.

At that point, it was my turn to be surprised. I guess he was too, given the slip up. I must confess, it felt nice talking to someone. It’s been so long since I’ve heard another person’s voice. He went to walk away soon after, but I stopped him. It’s not like they can use force to get rid of me, so why the hell not?

I told him I was bored and wanted someone to talk to. And, for some reason… he stayed.”

Giorno rereads this passage multiple times, scrutinizing it. So you managed to speak to one of the guards he assigned to watch over you? When he was recruiting within Passione for the position, he made expectations explicitly clear. They were not to interact with you unless an emergency calls for it. And if they felt the situation called for it, they needed to report it back to Giorno.

Your safety is paramount in his eyes. Regardless of this being a minor grievance, this guard will be punished accordingly for breaking the rules Giorno set. All of them were put in place knowing that if you grew connected to someone and they you, possibilities of insubordination would blossom.

The dates on the pages are getting closer to the current day, not many more entries left.

“Marco and I have been speaking more frequently.

He gave me a rough idea of the conditions in which we can talk, only in certain blind spots and times where other guards aren’t around as often. I wish it wasn’t so complicated. In our rushed conversations, I’ve learned more about him. I didn’t really think I would get all that invested in this person, since he’s stood by and watched my situation for a while now.

But now it makes a bit more sense. He told me that his little sister is unwell, having to practically live in a hospital room. That this dirty job is the only one that can cover the full expenses, and that without it she wouldn’t last. I can’t say that I forgive him entirely yet, but… I guess I can sympathize. I wish there was more I could do to help.

Her name is Lucia. One of the times we talked Marco told me she’s the strongest person he knows, staying dedicated to her studies despite having waning strength. She’s a few years younger than me, but I think we’d have gotten along well. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to leave this place, but I wish I could meet her one day.

Having him to talk to is nice.”

Ah... so that’s what it is then.

Unpleasant emotions rise within, feelings that Giorno long thought were gone. Times before when you were speaking freely with your friends, laughing among them and living your life to the fullest. Those times were he wanted nothing more than to join you, to have you by his side and share in the experience. His position shot down any hopes of that, the possibility of endangering you deterring him.

It was a painful time. Knowing that what he wanted was close and yet so painfully far, just out of his reach. Giorno wanted you to look at him like that, mirth in your eyes and a smile on your lips. To enjoy outings to the movies like you did with your friends, to have inside jokes and memories to fondly look back on.

Envy doesn’t begin to describe the hideous feeling that permeates within him. Giorno’s grasp on your journal feels weaker, fingers shaking as he flips to the next page. Predator-like intent shines on his visage, emerald eyes narrowed and grip tightening. Not typically one to dwell on what could’ve been, it’s rare Giorno would feel like this. He makes the most out of every situation, his resolve unwavering and sights set on a single goal.

You throw all of it into a loop, his normal composure a long forgotten memory.

“Today I played a game of checkers with Marco.

I think he was letting me win, but it was fun nonetheless. Apparently one of the normal guards was tending to business elsewhere, so we had more time together. He’s kind, kinder than I would’ve ever expected. When we’re together I just forget about everything other than the present moment.

For once, I don’t feel like a prisoner all on my lonesome. I don’t notice the heavy ring on my finger, the suffocating air of this villa that I despise. It’s just us, cracking jokes and learning about one another. It’s what I look forward to the most, what I hold onto even when Marco isn’t around. It makes me feel human again. Like I’m not [First] Giovanna, but entirely myself.

Smiling comes a lot more naturally these days. I can even find myself stomaching his presence easier, though I still don’t like when he’s around. As long as he doesn’t find out about Marco and I, I feel like I can get through this. Everyday I change the location of this journal, within the expanses of this mansion.

I still wish there was more I could do to help Lucia. I suggested giving Marco some of this stupid jewelry to pawn off, but he said it’s too risky. It’s surreal to know even pawnshops in Italy are fiercely loyal to Passione’s Don, and would be too hesitant to purchase his wife’s jewelry in fear of retaliation.

Having all this wealth surround me feels like a waste when I know there’s someone who could actually use it. As much as I don’t like the thought, maybe I could convince Giorno to help Marco somehow. I have a few ideas but they’re probably all too risky. He does always tell me, ‘If you ever want anything in this world, tell me.’

I want to help Lucia. I want to help Marco, who I’ve found myself caring for.

I’ve never asked Giorno for anything really. I don’t know how to propose it without making him suspicious--”

Giorno can’t stand to read it anymore.

Closing the book and placing it down, he steeples his fingers together. It takes a great deal of effort to frustrate him, normal composure melting away. Is it betrayal? Hurt? Jealousy? Everything wraps around his person, the air in his office feeling thick. Loosening the tie around his neck, he takes a much needed deep breath.

A flash of your smile from earlier this evening at dinner comes to mind. You called him by his name, maintaining eye contact and asking about his day. Lulled into a false sense of security, wanting to believe nothing more than the farce unfolding before him. Of course you didn’t love him back. He was a fool to have deluded himself into believing that.

At his fingertips is his phone. With a single phone call, he could command the world to fall. To have this guard who failed him tortured in the worst ways imaginable, experiencing hell on earth. Or to even join Passione’s former boss in a never ending cycle of death, that stretches the lengths of eternity.

So many possibilities. Yet none of them would soothe the agony of his heart. Completely and utterly alone once more, like his earlier days. Requited love was all but an illusion, a fog that has now been lifted.

Giorno purses his lips, considering. Fingers drum against his desk, the sound reverberating across the empty room. Grabbing a hold of his phone, he calls upon someone who could help him deal with this traitor appropriately. A message must be sent, he thinks, that will set the tone within the organization. It will hurt you to lose this newfound companion, but it’s a sacrifice he is willing to make. It’s not like you need to know the details either.

The phone rings. Once, twice. Before his second in command on the other line picks up.

“Yo, Giorno? You’re calling pretty late,” Mista’s voice is chipper as ever, the distant sound of music playing in the background. “Everything alright?”

Getting up from his chair, he walks over to the window that overlooks his garden. His beloved wife walks among the paths, bending down and inspecting a rose. Giorno remembers when he turned an object into that very flower, how your dull eyes lit up at the awe inspiring sight.

This is ultimately all for you, he reminds himself.

“Yes, everything is fine. Are you free at the moment? I have a job for you.”

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phonecallwithsatan · 3 years

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That’s A Pretty Color

a.n.: Fred Weasley x y/n, just fluff in this one folks<3 How is everyone doing? I hope everything is well, and if it is not, don’t let anything stop you from sharing if you need to! I wrote this one up because it’s a scenario that I will NEVER experince in my life because all real life men are trash exept for Alex Lawther and of course, the rest of my thirty-plus celebrity boyfriend. Lord, I’ve come full circle from 2015. Enjoy, my beauties!

Reader paints their nails but it takes a long time to dry. Luckily, a certain crush is able to help them with some tasks reader cannot do on their own. No specific gender or house is specified:) 2k words!

☼

For the first time in what felt like forever, everybody in your year had no homework for the weekend, and students had free reign over their plans.

It was Saturday, and you and your friends went to Hogsmeade, where you had found the perfect nail polish. It was in your favorite color and it had a perfect wand for application. Not too dark, not too light. It was perfect and you couldn’t wait to put it on.

That activity would have to wait, though, because all your friends had convinced you to wash up way too early for your liking, as you liked to bathe a bit later at night, and attend a planned party by a friend of another friend, of yet another friend who was in your house.

Your house often had parties. Really often. And today was one of them. However, it was a strange one. Everybody showed up in their loungewear after coming back from the bathrooms, and there was no alcohol. It was just students in sleep shorts and slippers talking among themselves.

You actively participated along with your friend Luna Lovegood, who had just decided to turn in for the night.

“[y/n], I just am so tired. It’s one in the morning, can’t I see you at a more normal time?” She had a soft voice that deemed even softer when she was tired.

“Of course, Luna. Wait for me at the entrance tomorrow, okay?” You said, taking your legs off her lap as she got off the couch, only to curl them up to your stomach as you waved goodbye to your friend.

You looked around to see who was left at the gathering and one by one people began to either go up the stairs or to just leave.

Now bored, you took the polish that was next to you on the table you had placed it on. You decided to paint your nails.

One by one, you dragged the brush along your nail beds to spread the gorgeous color you had found by surprise, deep in the back of the beauty store you and your friends frequently visited.

You had just finished your first coat when you felt the couch shift a bit. Fred Weasley.

“Hey, George.” You wanted to mess with him.

“Not Geo-” He was interrupted by you.

“I know, Fred. I’m just messing with you.” His reaction softened when you said that. He shook his head and smiled, looking down and then back up at you, running his hand through his short red hair.

You knew the difference between the two brothers. You only knew it because you’d always had a thing for Fred. It made you mad when people mixed the two up, even though they would never know that.

“I don’t know how you do it every time [y/n]. It’s a skill very few possess, even my own family can’t tell the difference like you do sometimes.” He made you blush similarly to the color of his hair, hoping he would never, ever, be able to feel the heat rising to your cheeks. You shrugged and continued onto your second coat of color.

You’d talk with Fred from time to time. Whether it be at a party like this one, or just in class, he was always engaged and interesting- and bloody good to look at, too.

You didn’t know if it was the way his eyes would shine when you told a joke, or when he’d walk you to class just to put a hand on your lower back and waist to say goodbye, but you could say you had a small, teeny, tiny, crush on the boy who was sitting beside you.

“That’s a pretty color.” He leaned over to look closer and smiled as he pulled his head back.

“Thanks, Freddie. I bought it today at Hogsmeade.”

“Yeah, I know.” You were so confused by that statement.

“What?” You looked up and you saw him slightly scratch the nape of his neck. He brought his hand back down and pointed at the bottle on the table beside you.

“Well, I saw you today, Y’know, at Hogsmeade.” Now he was turning red. This was something new coming from Fred, you’ve never seen him flustered. You were just so- confused.

“Why didn’t you come over and say something?” You laughed at the boy in front of you. It was more of a nervous laugh rather than a ‘you’re-so-lame-for-not-saying-anything’ laugh.

“Well I’m here now, aren’t I?” He grinned over at you and you shot him a grin back, kicking the leg that was now facing him. He ducked and caught it instead, putting it in his lap just like Luna did.

A short amount of silence bestowed among you two and you dropped your other leg so both of them were draped across his lap. He placed his hands on your upper knee and asked you if this was alright.

“Is this okay, love?” He asked you and slightly shifted his thumb across your knee, not daring to go up unless you had told him so.

You grinned at the replacement of your name.

“It sure is, but just so you know, I’m almost done with these nails.” You raised your hand and waved and wiggled your fingers at him to show off the new color. They made your skin tone pop beautifully.

“Leaving so soon even when I am here? That’s just a mistake, [y/n].”

“No, Freddie. The mistake was when you came to talk to me so late!” You smirked at your comment as you looked up from your focus. He was full-on cheesing at you at this point, and you felt as if your day was made with that smile.

You were not one to put a crush ahead of agenda, but Fred was just so bloody cute and sweet. You couldn’t help but gush at him. And plus, your legs were currently laying over his lap, slightly bent at the knee, what could you do? Not think about him?

Finishing up your left hand, you screwed the bottle shut and put it on the table behind you. You lifted up both hands to view your work and Fred did the same, his eyes following your hands. You flipped them over so they were now facing palm down on the couch.

He removed his hands from their placement on your knees and he took your hands in his, viewing the art meticulously.

You were now geeking out. Again, you couldn’t help it. It just happened.

The common room was now only full of maybe five people or so, that included you and Fred on the couch, a kid passed out on the loveseat across from you, and a couple on the stairs just chatting.

“I should get going, Fred. Maybe I’ll see you at breakfast tomorrow?” Unfortunately, you removed your hands and legs away from him and he helped you by lifting your legs up.

“Yeah, for sure.” He was visibly disappointed that your conversation was cut short and his eyesight moved down to the gorgeous chain you had displayed on your neck. It was a thin, gold chain that hung right below your neck but right above your collar bones. It was one of your favorites from Holiday a few years back and you had forgotten to take it off after your hangout at Hogsmeade. “That looks really nice on you. I hadn’t noticed it until now.”

Why was he telling you all this. You shifted your hand to touch it and you thanked him for being sweet.

You reached back to unclasp it, but it was unsuccessful. Your manicure was not dry yet, so if you played with the clasp, it would most likely lead to a smudge on your perfect craft.

“I totally forgot to take it off and now I can’t.” You huffed and dramatized the puffing of air, a deep sign escaping you which in the end both made you laugh.

“Here, let me help, [y/n].” He motioned with his hand but you refused.

“It’s okay, Fred, really.” But he insisted.

You were not in the mood for an argument, so you complied. You shifted on your seat so your back was towards him, and he scooted a bir closer to you.

He moved a bit of your hair out of the way and his fingers grazed the back of your neck. Only then did you realize how close he was to you. He took the delicate necklace in his fingers and easily unclasped the claw, bringing it down your chest into your hands. His arms were on either side of your head as he brought it down.

You turned around and you thanked him.

“Thank you, Freddie, now my art won’t get ruined!” You were still very close to him, and it made you jumpy in a way that was new for you.

“I only like it when you call me Freddie.” He blurted out.

You were so confused as to why this boy was being so flirty towards you. You smiled at him and began to stand up.

“Goodnight, Freddie.” He stood up with you and in a burst of spontaneity, you raised yourself on your toes a bit to kiss him on the cheek, holding it for just a second before you came back down to look at him.

He held his hand by his cheek and looked at you in awe, and you finally realized what you had done.

The boy was obviously going insane in his brain right now and granted, maybe this wasn’t the best decision.

You decided to just absolutely make a run for it, and you turned around to head to your dorm room, not a chance in hell you were to look back. You went around the couple that was now making out on the stairs and you made your way up before you felt a hand surround your forearm.

Fred was smart to reach there, as he had remembered that you had just painted your nails.

“Why’d you just leave like that, [y/n]?” He was confused and you were too. He was now at the same step as you and he just looked at you with fire playing in his eyes that gave you butterflies as you looked into them.

“I don’t really know, Fred. I’m sorry.” You began to go up but you were cut off by his lips attaching to yours. You sank into the kiss, indulging in the smell and new-found memory implanted in your brain for life. You tore apart and you just looked into those eyes, again. Fred scanned your face for any sign of displacement and he shifted his hand to your waist again, the same feeling you got when he walked you down the hall.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a really long time, [y/n].” He murmured towards you. Your faces were close together and it didn’t take much to hear it. You leaned in again and kissed him softly, cursing at the fact that you ran your hands through his hair. You looked down to check if your manicure was ruined, and luckily, it was still in tact.

He chuckled at your panic towards the art and you looked up confused. Realizing, you began to laugh along, bringing the hand you checked up to his cheek to hold it. He sank into it and you smiled at the boy in front of you, still not believing that had just happened to you.

“Goodnight, [y/n]. Thank you for, well, that.” He was unusually sweet, and not as snarky as usual. Not that you missed the snarkiness Fred owned, you were just excited to see this new side of him.

He let go of you and put one leg down just as you leaned down and grabbed his shoulder.

You were being impulsive, but you truly did not want him to leave. Plus, you knew he had no bad intentions.

“Don’t go. At least not yet.” He turned around and you looked up the stairs and down the hall to your dorm. It was one of the closer ones. “Why don’t you maybe, I dunno, stay?” You were risking it all. “I mean, you’re already here, and you’re wearing that, and-” You were rambling so you cut yourself off.

“If you’ll have me,” Fred said with enthusiasm. “Can’t get enough of me in one night, can you? Sleepover it is, I suppose.” You were so happy that your plan worked so you quickly grabbed his hand, nonchalant about your maybe-dry nails, and you ran up the rest of the short stairs up to your room, where you only saw two out of the five of your roommates in your dorm. One of them even had someone laying next to the other, a result of the party, you supposed.

You placed the necklace on your nightstand in a tray that was it’s usual resting place.

Fred shut the door behind you and you led him to your bed. Just as you were pulling back your sheets, he leaned behind you and placed his body to yours, arms snaking around your waist and his head leaning just a bit down, enough to kiss your temple, moving down to your neck, where he bit slightly but not enough to mark up.

You brought your hands up and you touched him, leaning to your left to look at him behind you.

“I’m really tired, Freddie.” You said. Your voice was now a lot more tiresome than before.

You knew Fred was strong, but this was the last thing you were expecting.

In a matter of seconds, Fred had picked you up bridal style and he laid you on the bed softly, letting your head hit the pillow and your legs to hit a part of the bed that was yet to be pulled back. He slid his hands out from under your knees and back to pull some of the duvets back to cover you up.

“We don’t want to get that manicure ruined, now do we?” You smiled at him and reached for his hand, pulling him.

“You’ll stay?” You looked at him from under and he was unsure about what you had said.

“Are you sure?” He asked you mid-stride to the other side of your bed, longing for your hand once more.

“Yes, now come on, I’m seriously going to pass out.” The window in your room was closed off with curtains, but you could still see the boy’s face in the dark.

“Your wish is my command.” He said kissing the back of your hand and sliding next to you. You let him get positioned comfortably before squishing up next to him so your head was on his chest, where you would dream for the rest of the night about the morning.

#fred weasley #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley x you #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley x gender neutral reader #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley one shot

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yandere-society · 4 years

Text

Ih-pif-uh-nee

Synopsis: After successfully finding matches for humans for a millennia, Cupid grows irritated when he repeatedly fails to find YN’s soulmate. He decides to go undercover and disguise himself as a normal human to attempt to get closer to her, only to become convinced that HE is the mate he’s been searching for all along.

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Word Count: 2k

Admin: @chimchimsauce

Valentine’s Day Event Masterlist

Trigger warnings: yandere-themes, stallking

Cupid is on cloud nine, staring up into the painted sky, the soft coldness of a cloud caressing his large, folded wings. As the sun slowly begins to sink, the god of love rolls onto his stomach, dragging his finger through a passing cloud.

Another day, another match made in heaven. Satisfaction warms Cupid’s heart as he thinks of the young couple he recently paired up - a rich girl from a very influential family and a poor young man struggling to put himself through college. Pairings like that have always been Cupid’s favorite. Unlikely love always blooms faster, roots deeper into the lives of those he strikes with his arrows.

As the sun falls completely beneath the Earth and the moon rises to shine, Cupid sits up, reaching into the sky to pluck a falling star from above. The star shines brightly in his cupped hands, glowing before Cupid cracks it open like an Easter egg to reveal his latest assignment.

While the god is ultimately in control of his matches, every so often, Aphrodite will send tell him of someone special, someone who will require a bit more than a few well-timed coincidental meetings and an arrow to the chest. His mother’s always been a bit of a know it all and a meddler, so it’s not terribly unusual for her to push her own agenda through her son.

Cupid sighs. It’s nearing Valentine’s Day, so hopefully, he’ll have a bit more luck with this assignment than he did with the last one. Last time it took Cupid a fortnight to get the seed of love planted deep enough between a cynical old man and the lady he’d worked with for over two decades. But still, Cupid’s never been unable to make a spark between two people, not even when he was younger and would shoot arrows at random people just for fun.

Of course, he’s matured significantly since then. He doesn’t play such games anymore.

Reading the note he pulls from the star, Cupid reads the name.

YN LN

There’s nothing particularly remarkable about the name. He’s heard it before, used by other people throughout the years. The photograph he’s been given also does not stir anything in him. He wonders briefly what his mother is planning, sending him this assignment without any context. Usually, she’ll at least send some background information on the person and who she wants them to end up with, but there’s nothing else in the star but her name and photo.

Cupid seals the star back, tossing it as far into the sky as he can, letting it return to orbit. He places the photograph into the folds of his angelic garment, standing up and stepping off of the cloud, plummeting towards the Earth’s surface.

He might as well get started now.

Cupid lands gently on a large hill overlooking a sleepy college town, bare feet touching the soft grass. He disappears into the night as he descends upon the town, slipping between dimensions as only gods can do.

It practically takes him no time at all to locate her, YN studying diligently at a library that looks as old as Cupid himself is. Quietly, he lets his presence rest beside her, eyes going over her form, trying to figure out what’s so special about her that she caught his mother’s attention. She’s pretty enough for a human but her face isn’t anything you’d double take on. She almost seems . . . plain.

Cupid can’t help but be a little disappointed. He’d hoped this assignment would be interesting, but it seems like it’ll end up being a bore after all. He’s half tempted to just shoot her and be done with it, but he has a feeling his mother won’t be pleased with him if he does that.

Deciding to give this assignment his all (if for no other reason than not having to put up with one of his mom’s hissy fits) Cupid spends the next few days trailing YN, figuring out her habits, likes, and dislikes. He even sets up a few matches - the guy in her class, one of her pretty friends, a worker in the local grocery store - but to no avail.

Despite shooting the girl with three arrows, not even a lick of love sparks within her. YN just continues her monotonous life, boring the hell out of Cupid.

After an entire week of this, Cupid grows impatient and decides to handle this matter even more personally.

Transforming into human form, Cupid feels the elements against his skin for the first time since . . . he shakes that thought out of his head. A little bit of persuasion is all it takes to get him a new identity and set up at a small bed and breakfast just a few minutes’ walk from YN’s dorm.

He has it all planned perfectly. He’ll run into her at the coffee shop she works part-time at and befriend her, using their time together to find her perfect match. He’s never had to put in this much effort before.

But as soon as Cupid walks into the coffee shop, the little bell over the door rings and the two of them lock eyes, the god’s breath catching in his throat. She smiles at him, the very first time she’s smiled since he’s been trailing her.

Something pulls at his subconscious, just out of reach. Whatever it is is familiar, comforting to him. He doesn’t realize that he’s staring until she clears her throat uncomfortably.

“How may I help you?” she asks.

“I . . . just a coffee, please. Black,” he says once he’s regained a bit of his sense.

“Sure thing. What name would you like me to put it under?” YN asks, already beginning to create the drink.

“Jimin,” he says before he can stop himself, his true name tumbling out between his lips.

Because she’s faced away from him, YN doesn’t notice the shocked look on Jimin’s face. His hand covering his mouth. He can’t believe he said that!

The name ‘Jimin’ was given to him over a thousand years ago, by someone he can’t remember. His mother forbade him from using it and he’s gone by Cupid ever since. So why . . .

“Your total is $3.50. Will that be all for you today?”

“Yes,” Jimin says, rummaging through his pockets to pull out some money he’d manifested earlier that day.

The coffee shop is empty besides the two of them, Jimin choosing to sit by the glass storefront while YN hums quietly to herself, wiping down the counters and tidying up. Soon though, it becomes apparent through his side-eyed watch that she’s out of things to do, just sort of idling around. It’s only then that he god of love remembers that he’s on a mission.

“So uh,” he speaks up, the coffee cup warming his hands, “I’m new in town and I was wondering if you knew of what all there is to do?”

Jimin hates how unconfident he sounds. It’s so unlike him.

“Well,” she begins, grateful for a distraction, “There isn’t all that much to do. It is a rather small town after all.”

“Surely there must be something,” Jimin pushes, really eager to speak with her.

“Hm,” she begins, “There’s actually this very pretty underground lake. You can only see it once every couple of weeks because the cave it’s in is usually flooded - it rains here a lot by the way - but it’s absolutely gorgeous,”

“I’ll have to go sometime,”

Over the course of that singular trip to the coffee shop, Cupid completely forgets that YN is supposed to be an assignment. He becomes completely and utterly enthralled with her and her boring little life. The gods always have something going on, some drama or scandal or fight. It’s so nice just to be able to relax with someone - to actually become close to someone. Jimin sees YN every day. First, he just stops by to get a morning coffee, but soon enough he ends up walking her home after her shift ends and helping her study at the library.

Every expression of hers he has memorized. He lies awake at night and thinks about her, anxious to spend time with her again. It consumes his entire being, is his motivation for his every decision.

Until . . .

Until two months later, when the most gorgeous woman alive is at his doorstep. His mother catches the attention of everyone who walks by, sending one gentleman a flirtatious wink and causing him to walk into a pole.

“What are you doing here, Mother?” Jimin asks sharply, less than thrilled to see her.

“Checking on you,” she says, eyeing him up and down with a hand on her curved hip, “It seems you’ve gotten rather . . . distracted.”

Jimin bristles, growing visibly upset.

“I assigned you to find this girl a mate, not to fall for her,” Aphrodite says, her tone leaving no room for debate.

“I’m not falling for her,” Jimin hisses through his teeth, the lie obvious even to himself.

“You have one more week,” she threatens, “Or else.”

She doesn’t need to elaborate. Jimin knows his mother well enough to know whatever she has planned is awful.

As soon as she leaves, the god has an anger fit, trashing the small rented room he moved into just three weeks ago. He has to see her - he has to go be with YN. She’s the only thing that can calm him down enough for him to make a gameplan.

But as Jimin hurriedly makes his way to her house, he stops when he sees someone - an unfamiliar man - sitting on one of the dorm porch swings and chatting with her. The stranger looks up briefly, catching eyes with Jimin.

“Apollo,” Jimin curses, vision turning red from how pissed off he is.

Before YN can even blink, Jimin has Apollo by the throat, ignoring YN’s panicked cries.

“Stay away from her,” Jimin warms, nails digging into the other god’s skin, “You run and tell my mother to keep her nose out of my business. I’m done doing her dirty work for her.”

He tosses Apollo to the ground, unaware that he’s partially revealed his true form to the terrified young woman behind him. Apollo flashes away, clutching his own throat, fear in his eyes.

When Jimin finally turns towards YN, she’s petrified, a scream caught in her throat.

What’s going on? What had just happened?

“Oh, baby, no, don’t be worried,” Jimin coos, taking YN into his arms.

He doesn’t care that she’s as stiff as a board, immobilized by fear.

“The bad people are gone now. It’s just us, okay. You don’t have to be worried.”

His overly calm tone causes YN to snap out of her reverie, trying to pull away from the man she thought was a friend - the man she thought was human.

“I’m in love with you, YN,” he says, ignoring her attempts to flee and crushing her to his chest like a small child, “I didn’t think I could fall in love, but here I am. I think about you every waking moment, desperate to be around you, desperate to touch you. You feel it too, don’t you, YN?” Jimin says, a crazed look glossing his eyes.

Tears well up in YN’s eyes as she looks at him and realizes what danger she’s in.

“I know you do,” Jimin says, falsely taking her silence for agreement, “Kiss me.”

It’s a command, one she’s much too afraid to ignore. Trembling, Yn shakily presses her lips to his, unaware of the visions she’s just spawned in his head.

All at once, his memories come back to him, hitting the god-like a pile of bricks. He pulls back from her only briefly to wipe her tears away before recapturing her lips in a deeper kiss, never wanting to be parted from her again.

Psyche. His Psyche. The one he’d fallen in love with all those millennia ago, only to be ripped apart when his own mother killed her and their unborn child. No wonder she felt so familiar, so comforting. YN is his soulmate, no one else’s.

He wipes away every one of her continuously falling tears, moving to kiss her forehead.

“Don’t worry, darling. We’re going to be together for the rest of eternity . . . right after I kill my mother.”

#yandere #yandere bts #yandere x reader #yandere jimin #jimin x reader #bts angst #soft yandere

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cosmic-goddess-leo · 4 years

Text

White Wedding

AgedUp!Bokuto x Reader SMUT

Summary: Bokuto and (Y/n) celebrate their wedding in the best way possible

WordCount: 1627

Warnings: SMUT! 18+ ONLY! Daddy Kink, choking

Author’s Note: This is a lil birthday gift for @allywritesimagines , I hope you like iiit!

Car rides with Bokuto were usually anything but quiet. He was as bouncy and energetic during long trips on the road as he was any other time of the day.

So why was he so quiet now?

It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, (Y/n) knew that much. The silence was thick with sexual tension, enough to suffocate the two as they drove to the cabin they had rented for the week. It made (Y/n) fan at themselves, grateful they had changed out of their wedding dress and into something more comfortable.

The silk garment was meant to be their dress for the reception, something more breathable and easier to move in as opposed to the gown they had selected for their big day. But (Y/n) would be lying if they said they picked it unaware it would drive Bokuto mad the entire night.

Based on the way his eyes occasionally trailed from the road to glance at the fabric riding up (Y/n)’s thigh, they knew they made a good choice.

The tension only thickened when the cabin came into view. (Y/n) couldn’t hold back the smile that bloomed on their face, especially when Bokuto began to visibly shift in the driver’s seat from excitement.

Bokuto wordlessly shut off the car, came around to the passenger’s side, and opened the door for (Y/n). “Our honeymoon suite awaits, my love.”

(Y/n) smiled wider before practically leaping out of the car and into Bokuto’s arms, causing the two to burst into a fit of giggles. He kicked the car door shut before adjusting (Y/n) to hold them bridal style.

He effortlessly carried them into the cabin, breathing in the scent of the hardwood floors and walls. Bokuto wanted to savor this moment, walking through the threshold of the cabin, officially beginning his honeymoon with the love of his life in his arms.

He was soon pulled out of his thoughts when he felt a familiar plush pair of lips pressing kisses along his strong jawline. Bokuto glanced down at his spouse, lips quirking up into a smirk when their eyes met. He knew (Y/n) like the back of his hand, but he didn’t need to be a genius to know what was on their mind.

(Y/n) opened their mouth to say something witty, but Bokuto was already halfway up the stairs and on his way to the bedroom when they finally realized what was going on.

They squealed as Bokuto tossed them onto the large bed, slipping into another fit of giggles as he quickly pounced on them, causing the bed frame to creak.

“What’s on the agenda for tonight, husband?” they purred, reaching up and shedding him of his black suit jacket.

“I have a few ideas...” he smirked, a glint in his eye as (Y/n) began slowly unbuttoning his shirt.

(Y/n) felt their mouth water once Bokuto tossed aside the dress shirt, his bare chest practically glowing from the moonlight shining through the bedroom windows.

They watched intently as his muscles moved and flexed when he removed his slacks and underwear, their eyes immediately being drawn to their husband’s freed cock.

If anyone had a dick that could be described as ‘beautiful,’ it would be Bokuto. A man as big as he was of course had a cock to match, the girth enough to cause the perfect amount of pain mixed with pleasure with each thrust.

Their thoughts were interrupted with the snap of Bokuto’s fingers, forcing their eyes to meet his. “Someone’s distracted...” he tsked, his fingers trailing from (Y/n)’s ankles, up their calves, and to their thighs where the silk dress had rode up. “I think I need to get your attention...”

Without warning, he lifted the dress up to (Y/n)’s hips and shoved his face between their thighs. A moan escaped his lips once me pressed a kiss to their clothed core, causing one to bubble from (Y/n)’s lips as well. “You’re already soaking through your panties for me, huh?”

(Y/n) felt ready to gush at his cocky tone. Their eyes never left his as Bokuto tugged off their underwear with his teeth before tossing the lacey garment aside.

Bokuto eagerly returned to his previous spot between their legs and began lapping at their folds, moaning in ecstasy at their taste. (Y/n) moaned shakily, instinctively attempting to press their thighs together only for Bokuto to hold them apart.

He took hold of one of their thighs and propped it onto his broad shoulder, allowing more access to the pussy he was currently feasting on. Bokuto was always so eager when he ate (Y/n) out, his tongue working wonders against their folds while his thumb traced tight circles on their clit.

(Y/n) already felt so close to bursting that it wasn’t fair. Their hands wove into Bokuto’s wild hair, gripping at the dual-toned locks in an attempt to slow him down.

Bokuto only growled against their cunt, his mouth now focusing on their clit and sucking roughly at the bundle of nerves. (Y/n)’s moans began to grow louder as they clenched around nothing, aching to be filled by whatever Bokuto was willing to offer.

“Daddy please!” (Y/n) squealed, their legs quivering from the sheer amount of pleasure they were receiving.

Bokuto smirked from between their legs, dragging his tongue up their entrance as he stared into their eyes. “Please? That’s so unspecific...”

Just as (Y/n) felt like they were on the brink of damn tears Bokuto plunged two fingers into their core, immediately pushing them over the edge to their first orgasm. (Y/n) writhed and moaned wildly, all while Bokuto smirked up at them.

“Ohhh damn baby, so quick!” he teased, licking (Y/n)’s slick off his lips as he continued pumping into them. “Got another one in you before I fuck you properly?”

(Y/n) quickly shook their head, their breathing uneven as they struggled to ride out their high. It was difficult to focus on anything when Bokuto had his fingers fucking into them roughly.

“I think you do...” he trailed off as he curled his fingers inside of (Y/n), pulling more moans from their parted lips. “Daddy knows you can deliver for him, yeah?”

Damn him and those arms... they thought, clenching around him as they watched his veiny arms flexing with each pump of his fingers.

“F-Fuck you, Daddy...” they whimpered, fingers gripping the covers of the bed like a vice.

Bokuto’s hand was around (Y/n)’s throat in an instant, her juices rubbing off onto her neck. “That’s how it’s going to be, huh?” he growled, adding pressure to their windpipe.

(Y/n) was so caught up in the feeling of being choked that they almost didn’t notice Bokuto’s tip prodding into their slit. The corners of their lips twitched up into a slight smirk as they gripped their husband’s muscular arm, urging him to choke them harder. “Wouldn’t be much fun otherwise, would it?” they murmured.

Bokuto only answered with the snap of his hips, hissing through his gritted teeth at (Y/n)’s tight heat. (Y/n) practically screamed, throwing their head back in bliss at the sudden feeling of Bokuto filling them.

He swore he almost lost himself in that first thrust every time he fucked (Y/n), the only thing keeping him grounded each time was the way (Y/n) squealed and cried for more.

As if on queue, (Y/n) dug their nails into Bokuto’s arm, practically sobbing for him to start moving. Who was Bokuto to deny his spouse?

Bokuto began thrusting into (Y/n) roughly, his moans mingling with theirs as he kept them pinned beneath him. His powerful body had the bed frame shifting with each thrust, the sound of the furniture struggling to accommodate their fucking almost making (Y/n) laugh.

They willed themself to wrap their legs around Bokuto’s thick hips, their moans going up an octave at the new angle. It allowed Bokuto’s cock to hit their g-spot perfectly with each thrust.

Bokuto suddenly braced his free hand against the headboard, his chest heaving as he felt his orgasm approaching fast. He leaned down towards his lover, pulling them by their throat to meet him halfway.

His golden eyes stared into theirs, lust and desperation swirling in his pupils. Their moans echoed through the room, intermingling with the sounds of skin smacking against skin as they neared the end.

Bokuto crashed his lips against (Y/n)’s, giving them the extra push they needed to reach their orgasm. (Y/n)’s strangled moans were muffled by Bokuto’s lips for only a moment.

He parted from their lips, pressed his forehead to theirs, then gave his own strangled groan, his hips practically spasming as he painted (Y/n)’s walls white with his thick cum.

His fingers twitched around (Y/n)’s throat, tightening his grip as they both rode out their orgasms. He finally released them from his powerful grip and allowed them to lay back against the mattress completely.

Bokuto kept himself propped above his partner, not wanting to unsheathe himself from their heat quite yet. The two laid there, still connected to one another as they steadied their breathing and savored the moment with one another.

(Y/n) felt themselves dozing off until Bokuto pressed a sweet kiss to their lips, then their nose, then their cheek, then their throat.

“I love you...” he breathed, locking eyes with his spouse once more.

They looked lovingly back into his eyes, causing a small smile to pull at his lips as they cupped his cheek. “I love you more...”

#Bokuto Koutarou #bokuto koutarou x reader #bokuto smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!

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seeds-and-sins · 4 years

Text

That One Woman

Pairing: Pagan Min / Reader

Rating: T (Strong language, violence, sexual undertones)

Description: Pagan Min saves you from the resistance, and you end up becoming his assistant, among other things...

Day one was like a roller coaster for you. You distinctly remember sipping from a cup of coffee, calmly meditating to yourself, thankful to be alive; when Pagan barged into the dining room and started making demands. The first demands had almost everything to do with what you were wearing...

"Oh Darling, you need to get out of those rags immediately. I don't need my assistant looking like trash. Have you ever heard of perfume? Yes? You need it." He insisted you soak in the bath for a bit, get your hair done, nails painted, you had never felt so feminine before in your life. Of course he arranged everything, had his best designer working on your wardrobe in the meantime. Your king's kindness had no limits it seemed. All the while, he paraded you around and lectured you on taking better care of yourself, "treating yourself" as he worded it. While before you never really had the money to do so, he made every effort to ensure that you knew that whatever you wanted was given to you immediately. After the work was done and you had left your quarters feeling ever so nourished and tender, he put you to work immediately.

"I need you to schedule a meeting with Paul for three this afternoon..." You followed closely behind him in stride, scribbling his words onto a tiny notepad he had procured for you earlier. "Make sure the kitchen cooks his favorite; steak and mushrooms, grilled onions, that special sauce-I don't fucking know what-with a side of mashed potatoes, broccoli, and biscuits..." You were already out of breath, he was a fast walker. As he spoke it was almost like he had taken you around the entirety of the mansion that was his home, before finally entering his bedroom, where his designer waited patiently for his daily fitting. "Oh, and try everything before it leaves, last time they overcooked the broccoli, and I was not pleased." You gulped, never having ever tasted for someone before, never having ever done anything like this before. In fact, you probably were the most under qualified person for this job and yet he picked you. Why?

"Yes, Sir." He made a noise of acknowledgement as his designer tugged on the sleeves of a bright yellow suit jacket over Pagan's outstretched arms.

"Also, I almost forgot, do check in with Yuma about the security issue we've been having in the west. She promised me a direct report by noon and its already ten, I do not see what's taking her so long."

"Yes, Sir." You waited another moment as he critiqued his appearance in the long sided mirror, posing, cocking his head from side to side, testing the look. You were wondering if he was going to say anything else, and when he didn't, you took that as your sign to leave and complete the tasks he had assigned to you.

"Oh, and dear?" You glanced over your shoulder curiously, he snorted. "Could you also find me a new designer..." His eyes then focused harshly down onto the poor man who had created the suit jacket. Pagan angrily started to rip the thing off, the mustard fabric floating down to the ground as the stitches were yanked out. "I am trying to look like a king, not a fucking banana!"

"Y-Yes, Sir." You stuttered out, exiting the room as swiftly as you could to avoid Pagan's wrath.

You wondered if the same wrath would ever be afforded to you. However, as time went on, as you soon became accustomed to his temper, his demands, the routines of his nation, he never quite yelled at you. Ever. One time you had made a mistake, the whole time wondering if he would at least make your death quick. At the very most, he sent you off with a light tap on the wrist and a warning, knowing you wouldn't be stupid enough to make the same mistake twice. Granted the mistake had everything to do with something as simple as how he liked his coffee, but he had killed people for far less.

In fact, what was once a stressful job at first, became plain fun. In the beginning, you didn't really have much of a choice but to become Pagan's assistant, but now you sat across from him, handling all of his important agenda, of your own free will. Not to mention, the gifts, he would surprise you with them almost every other day. You were practically spoiled under his supervision, sometimes even being allowed to sleep in if you had done your job well enough the day before. You didn't know why people hated your king, he was perfect in every way, you would worship the ground he walked upon if he allowed you to. Perhaps you were biased in the sense that if it hadn't been for him, your rags to riches fantasy never would have come true.

You had your own room, all brand new clothes, new shoes, all the food you could ever ask for, an entire library that he had dedicated to your hobby of reading, and an office that was the same size as your old shanty. Of course, with all the pearl earrings, luxurious bed spreads, the wonderful view, room service, security at every corner, why would you ever want to bite the hand that fed you? Of course, you would die for Pagan Min, because surely he had given you such a great life in comparison to your previous one, you'd gladly give your life for him.

And sometimes you wondered, if that was your only purpose, to make sure his affairs were in order and to make sure his food wasn't poisoned. It made sense, your undying loyalty didn't come cheap it seemed and you hadn't even realized it. These thoughts, these wonders, stemmed from the confusion that began this whole mess. Why did he pick you? A young nobody, he could have easily let you die that day. You were always too afraid to ask him the question though. You didn't want to sound ungrateful in your curiosity. You would sit across the expanse of mahogany wood as he shuffled through important papers and made signatures. Every so often sliding them across the table so you could organize them into the appropriate file.

It was hard no to stare at him, admire everything that was Min. That fluffy blonde patch of hair that sat on his head, how the strands flickered out in front of his reading glasses. The curve of the collar on his button up, how it lead down to reveal those few undone buttons at the top of his long sleeved shirt. His sleeves rolled up, taut to the crease of his arm, slender fingers sliding between slabs of thin white paper. Every now and again, those fingers would reach up to catch the tip of his tongue, and she would find herself licking her lips with desire, imagining that tongue on her own fingers.

"Darling?"

"Yes, Sir?"

"Do you have that paperwork on that shipment from Rook Islands by any chance?" You steadily weeded through the files, carefully removing the proper papers. You stood to step around the table and carry them to him. He didn't lift his head as he held his hand out, accepting the papers in his grasp. You moved to go back to your seat before he stopped you with the continuation of his words. "Volker sent me a letter again, the annoying twat, something about a mistake with the merchandise. You know anything about this?" He finally met your gaze, those glasses sliding down to the tip of his nose as he considered you. You searched your mind for an answer, truly wondering if you had made a mistake, or perhaps you had missed one of Volker's mistakes. You shook your head, twiddling with your thumbs out in front of you.

"Not that I know of, Sir."

"Hmmm," He crowned his fingers against his lips, sitting back in his seat, elbows on the armrest. "Well, you might as well have a look for yourself, might jog your memory."

"Of course, Sir." He gestured for you to come to him, sliding his chair back to give you room. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he waved for you keep going.

"You can take a seat, if you will." You felt your breath hitch as you lowered your bottom down onto Pagan's lap. Your whole body engulfed in his warmth as he scooted forward and his arms snaked around your waist to bring forth the paper work again. His chin rested on your shoulder, the embrace extremely close, his strong cologne floating into your nostrils. His finger pointed at the discussed shipment receipts and the letter from Volker. You tried to focus on the words as you skimmed over them in your mind, but Pagan's close proximity to you and the very noticeable lump pressing against your backside was all the more distracting.

"U-Um..." You cleared your throat, finding yourself leaning back into his chest. He shifted his legs further apart and you couldn't hide the gasp as the hard lump was a lot more accentuated against the curve of your ass in this suddenly all too short pencil skirt.

"Yes, darling?" He whispered huskily into your ear, your entire body feeling overwhelmed by everything Pagan.

"I think everything is in order, Sir." You finally were able to form a coherent sentence surprised at yourself for being capable of doing so.

"I agree..." You inhaled sharply, his lips barely grazed the spot below your ear drum, along your throat. "I believe you deserve a reward for your hard work, right, my dear?" Yes, a reward, please. You wanted to beg on your knees, beg him for it all. The one thing he never gave you, never gifted you, praised you with. He chuckled, hands suddenly came to your waist and he scooted the chair back again. He forced you to stand with him and then he was gently turning you to face him. "I am sure you must be confused..." And you were, being Pagan's assistant meant that you knew almost everything about his life. One of those things was his overactive sexual exploits, people, men and women alike, were constantly going in and out of his room. "I swing for both teams, Darling, and I have been swinging for you for quite some time." While one hand resided on your waist still, caressing up and down over the fabric of your clothes, the other was now propped on the edge of the table and he came closer. "You must understand, this doesn't have to define our relationship if we don't want it to, but the tension is suffocating. I would like to just finally have my cake and eat it too..." His eyes centered expectantly on you, for a response, when he added. "All of it."

"B-But, S-Sir, I just don't understand."

"Ask your questions, but my patience is thinning, and..." He almost growled the words that followed, eyes scanning you from head to toe as he pressed his crotch to yours and you gasped. "I might not be able to contain myself much longer."

"Why, me?" You didn't think you could do it, but you did. And this whole journey with Pagan has been a game of figuring out what you could do. Your confidence had surpassed the highest summit in the world, you felt like you could jump into a volcano and still come to tell the tale, like you could fly into space and catch the nearest star. It was all because of Pagan, you owed so much to the man, and all he ever did was give to you.

"You must be joking?" He giggled deeply, like there was some inside joke that you couldn't ever know, but he was going to tell you the joke anyways. "Darling, few know there was only ever one woman for me..." He cupped your cheek, and the other came to sink into the strands of your hair. "Until I met you that is."

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littlefreya · 4 years

Text

The Way to Hell - Part 6

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it or parts of the source material and claiming it as your own*

Summary: Post Mi6 - August manages to escape with his face intact and just won himself the title of being the most dangerous man on earth. With every agent in the world on the hunt for him, life became a living hell, but that’s okay because hell is where he reigns.

Too bad for the woman who’ll stand in his way.

Pairing: August Walker x OFC (Ingvild) | August Walker x ofc Suzy

Word count: 5K

Warnings: Dark themes, rough oral sex, gagging, hinted anal, mentions of rough sex, and August twisted thoughts.

A/N: The adventures of August and Ingvild continue 💖 thanks again for reading and giving me your feedback, it keeps me fueled so keep it up :D! Of course thanks @agniavateira for editing my work and being my muse.

Title: Stargazer

The love boat sets sail through the icy water of the North Sea. The apostle, Knight_of_Cockn3ss, or whatever that kid’s name is, wasn’t joking when he mentioned a romantic cruise.

The traitorous sun hangs mid-sky as August trails across the deck. A beige fedora covers his dark curls and a matching cream-coloured suit over his sturdy body. In his right hand rests his laptop, he is not daring to leave it out of sight even for a minute. His eyes observe the surroundings; he must be the only single person on this trip, surrounded by timid couples on the verge of divorce and sugar daddies with their sugar babies.

‘At least the young girls are pretty.’ August greets a tall blonde, holding one hand behind his back and giving her a small bow before continuing on his way.

He’ll have to endure this trip for a couple more days, which isn’t ideal by any means, but he can’t risk getting caught or killed. Airports all over the world are swarming with security guards, agents, and assassins on really fucking high alert by now, all of them waiting for him.

The irony of the situation is that a long time ago used to be one of them. A wanted target on a scale of world catastrophe would spin a web of agents worldwide and Agent Walker would always get there first. That’s why they called him “The Hammer” - he nailed each target on the head, among other things.

No one cared about torture and extreme violence. He once brought back a target in such a dire condition that Erica was forced to send him to psych evaluation. He bluntly told the psychiatrist he enjoys the violence for no particular reason why, and then fucked her over the desk.

He scoffs at the memory, breaking into a wolfish grin.

Standing on the rail, his gaze is glued to the blue horizon, following the trail of sea-foam left by the boat as it slices through the water, disturbing the peaceful life beneath the sea. Slowly, his chaotic mind begins to drift, reveries of the CIA reminding him of her.

Golden locks of hair glow like hot sand on a summer day. Sweetly, she jokes about buying a yacht, telling Erica to fuck off so they can leave everything behind, and sail into freedom.

Memories are perfidious. Why has she been on his mind so much as of late? She’s been dead for years, flesh eaten by worms and the insects.

She is no more but a sack of rotting bones.

To condemn her memory is more than she deserves.

August’s nostrils flare. For whatever reason, his mind wanders to the girl who lived. Gently snorting, he shakes his head, remembering the condition of how he left ‘poor little’ Ingvild; half-naked, wrists tied up to the bed, probably crying to whatever father figure she has.

After what he did to her, she’ll probably retire from Icarus.

“I’m coming after you,” he mimics her voice in his head, and laughs while making his way toward the stack of beach lounge chairs. The section is nearly empty as most of the lovebirds are dinning in the main hall and unlike the degenerated visitors of this cruise, he is here solely on business.

Much work is left to be done. “Knight” has promised to meet him in London’s sky tower, suggesting he may or may not have a source of plutonium. Whether he’s a broker, a source, or a possible troll matters very little to a man on the run. Desperate times are ahead; he may be sticking his neck out, might be stepping into an obvious trap, but choice is scarce at the moment.

‘This is not the type of anarchy I dreamed of.’

That little girl, Ingvild, was the first to come. There will be others, endless more until the world will fall apart.

“I’ll keep coming after you.” Her voice hinges on his troubled mind.

He opens his laptop with a groan, trying to ignore the truth that lies on his mind like a pile of heavy brick.

‘You should have left her pretty face to die in the bottom of the lake.’

“Oh, but to miss out on all the fun that followed in that bedroom?” he speaks to himself quietly, unlocking his laptop with a retinal scan.

Luckily, his old drive is still accessible on the cloud he encrypted. Years of work and dirt collected on the CIA and the government nestles on a single server. The ugly truth, the lies, the corruptness. Thick and black like a pit filled of tar.

Erica Sloane has her own dedicated special folder. Personal vendetta was never on his agenda, it was never about revenge, it was about a cause but sweet Erica deserves whatever damnation he could think of. He hopes that when he detonates his nuclear bombs, that once this world falls apart, she’ll sit on a front-row seat to see her failures raining down like fire from the sky.

A vicious smirk paints his face as his fingertips slide onto the touchpad. August scans through his many folders, seeking a specific one regarding illegal weapon deals. It would be a lovely afternoon at the CIA had one of these recordings or documents would find their way to the public eye.

August slides the cursor around, entering one of the CIA’s subfolders when his smile fades away.

He thought he deleted her folder a long time ago, but it seems like mistakenly, he placed it in another section instead.

And now here it is. A name he thought he’d never see again: Lacey.

Strange, he hardly remembers what she looked like. How long has it been? Six? Seven years ago? In his dreams, she’s nothing but a rotting corpse, but the mind has a tendency to alter one’s memory, doesn’t it?

Was she even sweet at all?

‘Manipulation was her strongest trait anyway.’

Without mustering a mother breath, he deletes the folder, and proceeds to search for the files he means to leak. He muses if they caught up with the notion that it was him who poisoned the well this entire time. Years of stirring chaos while sitting with his laptop of his bed while Sloane and her high-ranking management freaked out and did all that’s in their power to cover shit up.

It was so hard to keep a poker face and pretend he is trying to help. One particular time, he got so ecstatic he had to go and jack off in the men’s room.

‘That was a good one.’

Something abruptly disturbs his attention, making his heart nearly drop.

‘It can’t be, is that...?’

A petite brunette passes through the lounge, joyfully trodding along the deck. Her hair is tucked back into a ponytail. No, it can’t be her, not in the situation he left her at. By what sort of dark magic would she exactly appear here out of nowhere?

‘I wouldn’t be surprised if the little Valkyrie turns out to be some sort of a witch.’

The brunette feels his gaze upon her figure and turns. He is met with a brown, warm gaze, rather than the sharp icy lustre that is Ingvild’s trademark. Less pretty as well, but looks about the same age, perhaps a year or two younger.

Another sugar baby, weary and discontent.

August realises he must have been staring with a dumbfounded look as she decides to smile back and make her way to him.

“Good afternoon,” she greets in a Midwestern accent. August’s eyes focus on her painted lips and in his mind, he imagines wiping that cotton candy pink lipstick by his thumb.

“Afternoon,” he smiles kindly, tipping his fedora with a welcoming bow.

Always the gentleman.

The young woman moves to sit on the seat in front of him, crossing her legs together as she takes in his sight. She observes and assesses how old he is and how much money he must own.

Probably looking for a new target.

‘Not old enough to be your daddy, but you can still call me that if it floats your boat.’

“Are you a secret agent?” She jokes, peering at his laptop before he smooths his hand on the lid to shuts it. He pretends to be intrigued by her senseless, obvious seduction when his mind once again forced him to go back and compare her to living-dead girl.

It seems like he can’t get away from her. Perhaps her threats were a curse? Even halfway across the sea, this total stranger reignites his curiosity.

‘Does Ingvild has any values? Any empathy toward others?’

She did experience fear in those little moments when his knife penetrated her soft little gut - that look in her eyes; like a virgin, fucked extremely rough for the very first time.

Thinking of those big, terrified eyes light up a snarl on his bewhiskered lip.

There was an inch of vulnerability in that sweet farewell kiss, a sense lost look on her face as if she couldn’t fit that emotion into any drawer inside her brain. It made her look so much more beautiful.

He wonders what she would have looked like if he went ahead with his besser urges and fucked her.

‘Maybe she’d finally break into tears. Fuck, I’d love to see her cry.’

“Sorry, I didn’t catch your name?” He interrupts the sassy brunette as she speaks of Lord-knows-what. It seems that she doesn’t even realise he wasn't listening to her for the last 5 minutes she been babbling . The girl smiles sweetly, tucking a brown lock of hair behind her ear. The diamond bracelet that decorated her wrist dangles as she does.

“Suzy.”

“Suzy,” August repeats and smiles charmingly before giving his lips a quick flick of a tongue. “Would you like to join me in my room?”

The brunette pretends to blush beneath the layers of foundation on her face and fakes an argument inside her mind as if she actually considers refusing his bold suggestion.

~*~

Back in his room, he pushes the petite brunette to her knees. He wipes away her makeup, smearing the pink paint with the crudeness of thumb. Suzy giggles, thinking she probably had men do worse than that by now.

‘Oh, darling, we haven’t even started yet.’

August’s large hand traces her rounded face, knuckles brushing against her cheek tenderly while running down to meet her lips again.

“Open up sweetheart,” he commands in a relaxed voice, his index finger demanding entrance to her velvety mouth. She spreads her lips open slowly, allowing him to slip in his long digit to explore the wet cavern while his thumb caresses her chin. Much to his delight, she sucks on his finger obediently, moaning as he slowly pumps in and out of her hot mouth.

“Good girl,” he praises, his free hand reaching to unbuckle his belt urgently and free his aching cock from his trousers. He tugs at himself for a second, staring how she suckles on his finger with fake devotion. She probably do want his cock, but it’s his money that she’d care for more later.

‘Oh, how disappointed you are going to be once I’m off this boat, baby.’

“How about I’ll fuck that pretty little throat, hmm?” August asks and without waiting for an answer, pulls his soaked finger away and clasps his hand around the hollows of her cheeks instead, forcing her to keep her mouth open.

She voices no protest, only her eyes staring at him wide and helpless. He pays no attention, preferring the sight of his cock sliding in between those puffy lips and pushing into the warm depths instead. A prolong groan slips out of his mouth, emphasising the relief of finally getting his dick wet.

Usually, he loves to watch, yet he lets his eyes roll back and shuts them tightly this time while she in the background. It only makes him fuck her throat more vigorously, his hands cradling and saddling her head, forcing her to meet the violent thrust of his hips.

“Don’t touch me,” he rasps breathlessly, as her her dirty paws snake for his waist. Terrified, she pulls away, intimidated by his voice. August’s eyes remain shut yet he can feel the wetness on her cheeks as his thumbs dig into them. Those tears are enough to send him over the edge, and he comes into her throat without any warning, grunting a couple of times and lingering inside her mouth to make sure she’ll swallow him clean.

‘That’s right little Valkyrie angel, you’ll take what I’ll give you.’

The mists of fantasy fade as August blinks his eyes open. Debunked by the plastic-type of woman. Slowly, he pulls his cock out, impressed by the mascara that’s smeared beneath Suzy’s now glassy red eyes. He wipes her lower lip clean and then gives her chin a gentle pinch with a soft grin.

Suzy gives out a weak smile in return, trying to look satisfied while remaining on her knees. He can tell that her little brain is pretty much half-through into realising she made a mistake by following the devil into his room.

Tall and menacing, he looks at her drenched by vile mischief. August moves to sit on the queen sized bed, petting the empty spot next to him. She follows, fighting her instinct to put a hand on his knee as she is used to, afraid that he will bark at her again.

“Tell me, Suzy,” he coaxes, reaching for the wallet in his pocket and drawing out a Trojan condom.

“Have you ever tried anal sex?”

****

“Ingvild,” the old man calls her name once he brings her to her new home. It’s a simple, minimalist apartment with naked walls and generic black IKEA furniture.

Silent, she peers at him, holding her small luggage between sinewy fingers. Everything that she possesses in the world is in that suitcase; a bunch of plaid skirts, white buttoned shirts, and a few books about fairies and monsters.

This man called Liam, is he to be her new father? He never even offered her a smile and hardly bothers looking into her eyes. Instead he grunts and sighs while making his way around the house and gesturing for her to follow.

At least he is kinder than Mother Superior. At least in here, no girl is going to pick any fights with her and get her into trouble.

“This is your room,” Liam gestures. The pubescent girl sneaks closer, peeking inside with curiosity. It’s not what someone would call a girl’s room by any means, very much like the rooms they had at the orphanage. It contains a single bed with a thin mattress and white metal bars and on the bed rest some casual clothes for her to wear.

At least she won’t have to wear skirts anymore.

As little Ingvild continues to scan the room, she picks on a small library housing some books and a learning desk with a computer. Probably for her to gain some knowledge of the world. She never had any of that at the orphanage, just the bible and the “forbidden” books of fairytales she stole from one of the nuns.

“Today you can rest,” Liam speaks, watching the little girl as she moves to place her luggage inside and sits on the bed.

“Tomorrow, you will start your first day of training.”

‘Training?’

Ingvild says nothing, only glares at him back quietly. It’s quite clear no woman is present in the house which makes her wonder; the orphanage doesn’t allow single parents to adopt, especially not men. Was Mother Superior this desperate to get rid of her that she decided to throw her at the first person who asked?

“Just so we’re clear, girl,” Liam grumbles, “I am not your father. You call me Liam and that’s that.”

She nods silently and watches him leave the room, shutting the door behind. Sighing, she falls back to the mattress, her silver eyes fixing at the ceiling in wonders of what sort of new life has she been sold ito.

“Ingvild...”

A low, velvety voice calls for her again, the mattress dipping, shifting with the weight of the one who joins her. As she turns her face aside, she is met with hungry eyes and a smile so cold it makes her heart shrivel.

August.

*~*

A loud thud wakes her with a sharp inhale. Though her face remain stoic, quickly readjusting to the sight of moving ground as the plane’s wheels make their landing. ‘Arrogant August Walker, invading my dreams’, she curses but pays no more thought to why he was there. Analysing dreams was never her thing. They were just memories of random things that happened to her in her childhood and August is no different as he had been on her mind for the last 72 hours.

He was a job.

One that she needed to get over with.

Liam was at her throat with this one specifically, nagging her like an old shrew. He wasn’t used for her taking her time with it, not his special girl.

Massaging her strained neck, she waits for the last person to leave the plane, observing the empty cabin and noticing how used it appears with all the crumpled, empty snack bags lying on the floor.

‘Ungrateful’, she thinks before exiting her seat and tip-toeing to get her luggage.

The arrivals terminal is infested with agents. Having been trained for years, she sees right through their casual attire, so fake they almost look like B-movie actors. It’s those badly selected outfits and their observant gazes - eyes obsessively fixed on every gate. Every airport in the world must be the same right now, desperate to catch this nightmare of a terrorist.

‘As if he would be stupid enough to travel by plane.’

With a high profile target like August on the loose, it almost feels like the world is on the brink of war.

‘Is that what he wants? To be an anarchistic god that plows chaos everywhere?’

Maybe that’s why he gave her back her life, to humiliate her, to show her how easily he can twist everyone’s life and disrupt the world people know.

‘Mephisto, Lucifer, Hades, Hel.’

“Remember that you’re only alive because I have allowed it.”

A sudden shard of pain sears through her torso, the wound reacting to the phantasm of his low timbre which plays in her mind. It makes her slow on her steps and chews on her inner cheek to suppress a moan that has been begging to escape her lips since yesterday afternoon.

“August Walker”, the name rolls on the tip of her tongue.

Her very first failure, the very first man who killed her.

It almost feels like a bond now, intimate and twisted. August went deeper than any other man ever did - he fucked her internal organs.

‘Is that is why you “performed” for him in the shower? Why you thought about him, slipping inside you with his cock rather than his knife?’

Ingvild huffs tenderly and passes in-between a couple reuniting with passion, her shoulder sharply bumping against the woman, who yells at her while she remains indifferent, never bothering to look back.

Putting on her shades, she continues to head for the exit. The wound in her gut throbs even further, all of a sudden and just when she is tempted to give into the pain and acknowledge it, the new mobile device in her jacket’s pocket begins to vibrate.

Liam, who else?

“Papa?” She answers, the big exit sign finally flickering in front of her eyes.

She can see Liam rolling his eyes without having to see his grumpy old face.

“What progress do you hope to make with this lead? Someone says they saw him in Singapore yesterday, you should be following these threads instead.”

Ingvild holds her breath, knowing very well the lead is false. August was with her a night ago, so close she tasted him, so near his fingers dug deep into her flesh, leaving an imprint on her bones and even though there is something quite demonic about him, she doubts he can be at two different places at once.

“I need access to his world, I need to pick up the clues,” she explains, yet the sad truth is that she has no idea what to look for. August is not a rookie idiot, he did a fine job leaving zero clues back at the bed&breakfast room they “shared”. Not even the receptionist who ogled her oddly when she left could tell her where he was heading.

“Just get it done, Ingvild. You’re acting like a child, this isn’t like you,” Liam mutters before hanging up.

‘He is right, this isn’t like you.’

Ingvild feels hooks clutching her guts, not just the pain August inflicted upon her, but something deeper, something desperate, leaving a void in that same spot. The fact that he slipped between her fingers seems to torments, just as much as the fact that she lied to Liam for the first time. It makes her feel like a rebellious teenager. She never keeps secrets from him and there she is, lying through every word.

Absentmindedly, her fingers press against her lips as she exits the airport.

~*~

The address led her to a small suburban house in southern London. It’s the type of house that has large glass windows where anyone standing outside can ogle freely. Rich people houses, as she likes to call it. She had a few missions in the past with people living in homes like this one - always an easy kill.

A blond woman meanders about inside the house, wearing a grey silk nightgown, preparing for bedtime probably. According to Walker’s file, she’s the most recent ex - Sydney. They broke up a couple of months before he decided to go on what he thought would be his final mission, his deathstrike.

‘If only.’

Glancing from the gravel path that leads to large metal doors, she learns the woman’s delicate manoeuvres, her mind reciting every graceful gestures as she crouches down to place food for a large Maine coon cat.

‘Is that the type of woman he likes?’

August would strikes her as a man who would fuck anything with a heartbeat but he did have more than a few relationships. She can’t help but wonder if he has a type, noticing how Sydney is more of a woman than a girl; solid income, big name lawyer, a woman who can take care of herself, a woman to start a family with.

Not that she imagines Walker starting a family anytime soon.

She is pretty too, with her mid-length straight golden hair, bright eyes and a shapely body. Ingvild looks at her own outfit: jeans, sneakers and a black sleeved shirt, nowhere as classy as beautiful Sydney.

The hour is late, still she walks toward the door and rings the bell.

“Can I help you?”

Ingvild is greeted by green eyes and a subtle Welsh accent. She gives her one of her fake smiles, trying to look as charming and pleasant as a sweet doll.

“Sydney Bedford?” She asks, while briefly scanning her body. She tries to imagine what August liked about her the most; her figure? Her angelic face? Her emerald stare?

“I have some questions about August Walker, he used to…”

Sydney shakes her head vehemently, waving her hands in the air. Something in her eyes drastically changes the moment the name “August” slaps her across the face.

“Are you MI6!? Please, I don’t want to speak about that psychotic loser anymore.”

Ingvild smiles calmly, a soft chuckle leaving her throat.

“Oh you see, he disappeared…”

“Good riddance!” Sydney replies, her eyes filling with anger, her face turning red within seconds. “Listen. I already told them everything I know.”

“Please,” Ingvild begs, batting her long lashes and tilting her head like a cute little kitten. “I’m new in this and my superior will be mad if I don’t at least speak to you. May I please come in? It’s important for my investigation.”

The same childlike charm that works on men might as well work on women, for different reasons in this occasion. Sydney is a single 36-38-year old woman who lives alone with her cat.

She must have wanted a family, perhaps with Walker, no wonder she’s furious.

Leaning against the door frame, Sydney scrutinises the young girl, believing she is younger than she really is with that pale smooth face and big innocent greyish eyes.

“Come on in, dear.” She opens the door wide, letting Ingvild step inside before closing it behind her.

The main entrance leads into a large living room, furnished with a black leather sofas and a glass coffee table. She owns a TV that is larger than Ingvild's entire living room and the walls are moulded with grey bricks, shiny from some cut stone.

Ingvild imagines how lovely it would feel to crack the shimmering stone with August’s skull.

“Would you like some tea?” Sydney offers while heading toward her luxurious kitchen.

“Please,” Ingvild answers, walking around the house and examining every corner to learn of the woman who invited her in. She nearly stumbles as the large cat rubs against her foot. “Oh,” she exclaims, lowering herself to pick the chubby feline to her arms.

She never owned a pet. Liam said it’s unnecessary.

“So like I said,” Sydney calls from the kitchen, putting the kettle on the stove. “I don’t know anything about August and where he is. All I can tell you is that he was weird.”

“Weird? How?” Ingvild asks, stroking the cat behind his ears and while it purr against her chest.

Sydney places two mugs on the black marble counter in the kitchen and opens a cabinet, looking for some tea bags. “He would disappear and then return after weeks, telling me not to ask any questions. Then, he would go away and come back in crazy hours. He was a gentleman of course but arrogant and demanding, never taking no for an answer.”

Ingvild turns to look at Sydney, arching her eyebrow as if she is surprised to learn this about the man who stabbed and drowned her in an icy lake. “Is that so?”

“Yes!” Sydney shouts back, her chest heaving as she throws the bags into the mugs and turns toward Ingvild.

“Everything had to go his way, and I won’t be surprised if he had a mistress or another family, or god! Maybe an illegal drug practice.”

The cat jumps down from Ingvild’s embrace, and she brushes the grey hairs off her black shirt. “What makes you think this way?”

“Like I said; disappearing in the middle of the night, coming back... I knew something was off so I went and... wait I… I shouldn’t tell you this, you’re an agent!” Sydney looks around her, as if she’s afraid someone might be listening to their conversation.

Ingvild takes a step forward into the kitchen, her grey eyes seeking Sydney’s, giving her a warm, kind smile. “You can tell me anything Sydney, you are not in danger, I promise. We just want to locate Walker, he hasn't reported to HQ in a while.”

Sydney observes her gaze, trying to determine her personality. She thinks the young woman seem gentle with those unique eyes and the hair that’s tucked back to a strict ponytail.

“I had him traced,” she whispers. “I know I wasn’t supposed to because he is CIA, and trust me I was scared but I had to know.”

“How did you do that?” Ingvild asks, tilting her head with curiosity and slight disbelief. It seems odd that a man like Walker was bugged by some dumb lawyer woman.

“I did his laundry, it wasn’t hard to hide something inside the pocket of his jacket. I mean, inside the fabric, where he can’t find it.”

Ingvild can’t help but let out a small snort, amused by the fact that the infamous CIA agent got made so easily. She covers her mouth with her fist, shyly smiling into it, but it’s noticed by Sydney who stands in front of her, staring oddly.

“Where would he go?”

“Some place in South Kensington, almost every day for the last month of our relationship. He would vanish there for hours and then come back. I have the address, hold on.” Sydney leaves the kitchen and walks through a long corridor.

Not bothering with politeness, Ingvild follows her, easy off her feet like the big grey cat, carefully exploring this new territory. She imagines the fights August would have with this woman and then the passionate sex afterwards while her hand runs against the texture of the garnet.

“Oh!” Sydney exclaims, confused to see Ingvild in the doorway of her bedroom. The young woman looks around curiously, trying to find any memorabilia from August; a photo, a clothing article, man cologne. It seems like he was never even been here, though there is a certain coldness in this room that feels strangely familiar.

‘No, not August, his touch is warm.’

“He did trading or something,” Sydney says as she hands her over a small yellow note that was hidden in her purse. It has the address to August’s “secret lover”.

Ingvild takes the notes, memorizing the address before placing it in her jeans pocket. “Trading? Can you elaborate?”

She shrugs. “He asked me to not disturb him while he was doing some dealing, I don’t know what it was… it looked fishy but it might just be CIA stuff.”

Ingvild nods silently, scanning the room again and again and eventually taking in the sight of the empty bed. Her mind fills in the gaps, painting an image of August fucking Sydney into oblivion, his muscular body ramming into hers, one leg held over his shoulder while the blond little bitch screams in ecstasy.

“How was he in bed? Would you say he performed well?” Ingvild asks, her eyes gesturing toward the mattress.

Sydney frowns, giving her a slight repulsed face as she finds her question remarkably rude.

“How is this relevant to the investigation?”

She means to berate her when she witnesses Ingvild’s kind smile growing remarkably cold.

The young woman remains silent, taking a step closer and making Sydney almost stumble back as sudden fear creeps in. Grey frigid eyes, like icy shards, her nostrils slightly flares as she catches up the scent of her expensive perfume.

“How is this relevant to the MI6?!” Sydney asks again, trying to dismiss the tension yet continues to draw distance from the young agent.

“I never said I am MI6.”

Sydney’s back hits the wall with a soft thud, she attempts to flee but Ingvild’s hands lock around her shoulders, forcing her against the wall with a thud. As small as this woman is, she is way stronger than she appears.

“How was he in bed?” she repeats, her voice becoming more demanding while her glare threatening to spear into Sydney’s skull. “Would you say he satisfies you?”

Puny gasps peal from Sydney’s mouth, her green eyes becoming moist with pure fear.

“Please, don’t... He was... Rough.”

“Bondage?”

“He... he..he choked me,” she answers in a trembling voice, her lower lip quivering, much to Ingvild’s delight.

“He was too rough, he was big and he didn’t care, it was as if he enjoyed my pain...”

Ingvild licks her bottom lip, imagining Sydney thrown on the bed with August treating her like a rag doll, wrecking her completely. Bruises left everywhere, tattoos on her skin for the world to see this fine artist’s work. A cold flame licks at her spine, crawling down to the small of her back.

She’s uncertain why.

“Would you say he loved you?”

Sydney’s peers at her quietly, thinking of her answer for a few seconds while Ingvild’s fingers bury into her collarbone, voicelessly demanding a response.

“August Walker is incapable of love. He is dead inside.”

________________________________________________________

Disclaimer: I don’t own August Walker or the Mission Impossible Frenchise

#august walker #Henry Cavill #August Walker Fanfiction #Henry Cavill Fanfiction #August Walker x ofc #Henry Cavill x ofc #August Walker Fanfic #augustwalker #henrycavill

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zerot0all · 4 years

Text

Gold Throne | M

Stray Kids- Mafia!Bang Chan

M- vulgarity, violence & smut

word count- 3.4K

.CHAPTER FIVE.

His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, unable to understand the idea of his father's henchmen finding him but also, finding you with physical marks etched on your skin hurt him even more. His blood was boiling , his skin itching with pure raw hatred towards whoever dared touch you. His hands clenched into tight fists, taking deep breaths , in hopes to calm down before he walked into your place. Chris wasn’t sure how to handle his emotions, his past was a clear example of that but now, living his new life- he wanted to be different.

And wanting to kill someone wasn’t on his agenda.

“Oh, it’s you.” You quietly stated. Opening the door to a very tall, broad and pissed off Chris. Cocking his brow, he wasn’t too amused in your words, he felt like a bother. Like as if you knew he was about to annoy the living hell out of you because he wasn’t sure what he was feeling. Chris was a mess. His mind went one way, while his heart played around with his emotions. It was confusing to say the least but he wanted to make some things clear to you.

“Yeah it’s me. I told you I was coming over , we need to talk.” His tone was low and deep, sensing the impending argument , you rolled your eyes.

“About what? I told you , I’m fine.” You replied in a snarky tone, knowing full well of your attitude and the reason behind it. You didn’t want to talk about it , because talking about it would bring upon questions ... questions you weren’t ready to answer just yet.

Chris stood back, eyes furrowed as his nose flared.

“You’re fine? Y/n, you have bruises and a busted lip! What the fuck do you mean, you’re fine?”

His voice was a little louder but the intensity behind it was clear, he was not happy. Not one bit.

You stood in your kitchen, a few feet away from Chris , who was still by the front door. Your place was small, but the more the atmosphere thickened with anger , the less room you had to think.

“Yes, I’m fine. It was a work related accident , nothing more.” You huffed, once again , rolling your eyes trying your best not to get worked up. But you heard him. He took a deep breath, you could hear him crack a few knuckles as he stepped forward- he was frustrated but you weren’t sure why.

Why does it bother him so much?

“Work related? Angel, where the fuck do you work , you do understand that all these secrets are going to bite you in the ass one day. You need to talk to me , tell me-”

“I don’t have to tell you shit.” You hissed back. Your voice grew louder the closer he became. But this was new. Chris overstepping his boundaries, asking you questions that he should never ask.

“You’ve mentioned it before , we’re friends right? You’re not my man, and you sure as hell are not my daddy to be demanding anything from me. I do whatever the hell I want to do. No one , and I mean , no one deserves any explanation from me. I don’t owe anyone anything, not when I was little , not as I was growing up and most definitely not now.”

At this point, your finger was pointing directly at him. Eyeing him with the deadliest of glares your could ever do. Your chest rose with deep breaths, meaning to take a calming step back but you couldn’t. You were too wound up, too proud to back down now. And even as you watched him menacingly, Chris had no signs of backing down.

“I don’t need your pity , I don’t need your sympathy. Thank you very much , but I’m fine.” You finished, finally lowering your finger. Your body buzzed with anger, over having someone question you about certain aspects of your private life , it was unacceptable.

“But you can pick up anyone from the streets and help them?” He spat back. Narrowing his eyes at you with full intent to throw your very own argument back at you.

“I just want to help.” Chris said through gritted teeth, taking deep breaths, he seemed like he was trying his best to calm down.

“Why? Because I helped you-”

“No, because that’s what friends do. It’s normal, we help each other out. I obviously couldn’t do shit before , but you helped me. I hated it because I’m not used to getting handouts but you made it okay. And now, seeing you like this ... all I want to do is hurt someone.”

He said slowly, his eyes finding an empty space in the air to completely lose himself in. You could see the wheels in his head spinning with images and ideas, you could tell it was torture for him to see you in such state. But even knowing where the conversation was going , you needed to direct it another way. If possible. Getting too deep with Chris wasn’t in your plans , but watching him turn into such a protective man in your life ... it was hard to ignore your growing feelings for him.

“Okay. Okay. I get it. You don’t have to lecture me , I’m not a little girl.” You spat back, a side grin coming to life on your face. The sudden twinkle in his eyes made you realize that there was such a thing as trust between the two of you. Not sure for how long or when it even started but as your eyes connected with his, it was too obvious.

You liked this man way more than you could ever explain. It was foolish. Down right pathetic but yet, here you were. Only seconds away of confessing everything he doesn’t know about you. The late nights when he texts you for a midnight run to Taco Bell but you ignore it because you’re ‘busy working’. Or the sudden invites to the shop when he’s not cluttered with cars to fix, but you’re out ... ‘working’. It was a tough job and for years , it’s always been you. You had no one around that cared enough to stay or even ask how your day was going. So , what were you to do now?

“You sure do act like a little brat though.” He scoffs, rolling his eyes knowing the conversation was now another. The tone in his voice gave it away, he was teasing you now. Chris ... a tease? This was new.

“You’d love that wouldn’t you.” You shot back, in a taunting manner , hoping such teasing would flow easily. Sending him a wink, you then turned to get the wine bottle when you heard him say something under his breath. At first , it just sounded like mumbling but after a few seconds it hit you. Grabbing two glasses, you look towards him. He was back in your living room, looking around awkwardly.

“What did you just say?” You ask as you begin to pour wine into your glass then his. Chris smirked, his eyes watching you slowly from head to toe. Something had come over him. Something different and you were most definitely working off of his vibe.

“I said, Yes, I actually do love when you’re a brat.” He replied. Chris stood up straight , chest broad and shoulders back as if he was challenging you. His eyes not once wavering but the tiny glimpse of a good time rang like fire alarms in your head. No, you shouldn’t continue this. It’s too much. What if he’s not about it. What if he’s just playing around ?

What if he’s not?

“Chris, don’t tell me ... are you a brat tamer?” Your voice was low, sensual and seductive. Making your way over to him, you could see him contemplating his next words. His eyes shook back and forth, from the glasses in your hand, back to your eyes. It may seem, you were the hunter and he was being hunted. Even after slightly snickering , something in his gaze turned primal.

“I have a history in that .. so yeah, you could say I’m somewhat of a brat tamer. Why? Do you want to be tamed?”

Shots fired. That’s what he did. He hit the nail on the head and you couldn’t help but freeze with his bluntness. Your eyes grew wide as he stepped forward, only a few inches away from your shocked frame , as he grabbed his glass. Quickly drinking it all in one gulp. You were speechless.

“Why so quiet angel, you asked and I answered. Now, it’s your turn to answer my question.” His voice grew thicker , dropping a few octaves to make it seem throaty and all you could do was swallow the lump that was caught in your throat. Sudden hot flashes passed through your whole body making you shudder with a silent craving. Something in the way he was now looking at you made your stomach cramp up, what the hell was this feeling ? You couldn’t function and even as he got closer, it didn’t click. Chris knew what he did and he was going to try his best to make something out of this.. whatever it was.

Now, chest to chest, Chris leaned down. Bringing his mouth to your ear, you could hear him breath ever so softly before he spoke.

“Do you want to be tamed, angel?”

The raw feeling growing all over your body was boldly becoming more and more evident. You wanted this man more than ever. Fighting it wouldn’t be right but even as he stood so close, you weren’t ready to fight him off anyways. You wanted it ... so bad.

Maybe it was the adrenaline of the nonexistent argument that still swam through his veins or maybe , it was the endearing mannerisms that he had towards you - whatever the final verdict may be, you made the move. You wanted to.

“Yes,” you breathed , gradually turning to meet his lips on a slow heated kiss.

Time had stopped. Suddenly.

The moment washed over your body as you carefully placed your glass down on the nearby table. Wanting and hoping the moment lasted forever. But as you wrapped your arms around his neck, and deepened the kiss it made time speed up and sluggishly turn dark. Your eyes closed letting his taste and scent consume your every aspect of life. Every detail about yourself was now blurring and lazily turning into his wants and needs. From fighting lips and tongues, went to Chris lightly dropping small pecks on your cheeks , kissing your bruises which have healed slowly after the week ‘accident’. He cupped your face, coming to a pause as you let your eyes open steadily. He watched, examining the pain painted on your skin. Your busted lip was a severe scar now, but a week ago it was a bloody mess. And your bruised eye, was now an unpleasant color of deep green with dark purple.

You were still healing but even as he looked at you and your flaws, he was gentle. You didn’t want this to stop. You wanted more.

“Am I hideous to look at?” The question slipped out , you blamed your self esteem and wanting to be appreciated even with a bruised conscience. But sometimes it’s hard too. Especially in this world. Chris furrowed his brows, his eyes taking in your sad features as he leaned back to your lips. Gently placing another kiss, carefully moving up to your nose.

Placing another kiss.

Then making his way to both your eyes, he tried his best to be gentle, like a feather , and placed another kiss.

“Never have I seen such beauty.” He whispered , you weren’t aware of the way it made you feel. What did you expect ? It was kind and sweet the way he treated you , and once again, all of this was new to you. Everything having to do with him was suddenly a new chapter that you wished had no end. And just as the seconds went by, burning a hole into your existence, you wanted him even more.

So on your tiptoes, you went back to his mouth. Taking his thick bottom lip , sucking on it slowly. You could still taste the wine on him, it was intoxicating how much more addictive an action could be. But hearing him groan at your move, set your body ablaze. Going to wrap your arms around him again, you let him casually push you up against the nearest wall, letting his hands roam your body.

Through humming and gasping for air, the tension kept growing. Chris was a mess, between wanting to be gentle with you and wanting to completely wreck you. His hands would stay on your face, his mouth not once leaving yours , needing to taste you. Breath you in. It was as if Chris wanted to give you air and at the same time take it all. But every other moment, his hands would drop down to your throat, then your breast. Softly kneading them , making you squirm and moan. With every whine that escaped your lips, a smile appeared on his mouth.

“I’m scared to hurt you,” Chris said mid kiss, coming again to a halt. It was hurting him to hold back, you could already feel his bulge growing inside his jeans , wanting to be released but he contained himself. He took deep breaths, needing to find the strength to take it easy on you but you didn’t want that.

“You won’t, trust me.” You replied simply. Giving Chris the green light to grip your thighs and haul you up. Instinctively, your legs wrapped around his torso. Going back to kiss him was a heated mess. A mixture of saliva with your sudden soft sighs , seemed to make him harder than ever. Pulling your tank top off was your work, but Chris letting his hand slyly enter your shorts to find you wet, was his work. He hummed into your mouth, letting his thumb rub against your clit. A desperate notion fell upon you, silently begging him for more, as your hands began to pull on his buttoned shirt. He knew you wanted more. So he delivered. Carefully letting you get rid of his shirt , along the way your clothes ended on the ground too. Leaving you bare for him. The wall seemed almost enough to cool your argent body the longer this went on.

“I have to be inside you. Please. Please let me fuck you, angel.”

It sounded more like Chris was now begging for your permission, another thing you were not used to. Something about this made you feel powerful. Like you were on top of the world and no one could bring you down. His groans of desperation kept growing the longer you kept him away from what he desired. It was a game , really. A silly erotic game. That for some odd reason was twisted enough to make you crave him more. The passion between the two of you was real and even though your domineering character came to life, you also wanted to please him in every way.

Giving him a quick and airy ‘yes’, Chris went to work. Skillfully he managed to still hold you up as he sent a hand down to his jeans. Unbuckling and dropping them quickly. You could smell his scent. The musky manly aroma that made you groan into his neck. It didn’t take long for his length to skim your mound, Chris teased you for a bit, needing your essence to coat the tip right before he aligned it with your soaking core. But before Chris made a move to push into you, he froze. Taking a deep breath, he held you closer; tighter. Sensing his tense actions, you worried.

“Hold on.” He finally breathed, maneuvering you off the wall and over to the couch. He laid down, letting you sit pretty on top of him as he watched you proudly.

“I want you to ride me, angel.” He said casually, his large hands gripping your hips, setting you up for the ride of your life. So you sat up higher on your knees, he aligned his cock once again, then he removed his hands off and away from you. Smoothly, he brought his hands up and above his head, holding on to the arm cushion of the couch. He was giving you all the power and you took it.

Lazily sinking down, letting his manhood open you up so deliciously. Every sigh that escaped your mouth was complimented by a deep hum from Chris. His eyes attached to the sight before him. He watched as your pussy took his length whole, suddenly disappearing as it bottomed out. His eyes scrunched closed, brows furrowed while his chest and abdomen constricted with each heavy breath he took. Letting the moment swim by as you got used to his size, he was most definitely bigger and thicker than you’ve ever had and at first , it was hard not to scream. But you toughed it out. Raising your hips a tiny bit, and slowly grinding down. You needed the sting and pain to finally mix with the pleasure, so you went on.

Starting off slow and steady, letting the moment heat up. His chest rose , while your lips trembled. After a few back and forth , you got used to it , finally finding a rhythm that worked perfectly fine for you.

“Damn,” Chris would cuss under his breath, his eyes were mesmerized with the way you rode him and the way you bit on your bottom lip. You would praise him in faint whispers, in hopes that he wouldn’t hear you. It was bizarre honestly, you were on a high the faster your tempo sped up. You began to bounce on his dick, your hands on his chest trying to hold on as you inadvertently praised him some more. And even though you thought that was all in your head, he heard you. Heard you loud and clear. He felt daring now, sending his hands back to your hips to keep you in place so he can thrust up into you.

“C-Chris,” you choked out, surprised by the sudden shift but the biggest change was when he hugged you tightly, and flipped each other. You landed on your back smoothly, legs wide open as he held onto your knees for support. He took one last look at your fucked out frame and went back to pumping into you. His stroke game was strong, deep long strokes were his favorite, making your eyes roll and your toes curl the deeper he went. At one point, you had to hold on to your breast with the impact he made fucking you into the couch. You could see, the veins on his arms, neck and right down to the V.. reaching out, you caressed everything you could touch. Meanwhile, still a whimpering mess as your moans begin to turn into screams of pleasure the closer you both get to the end. His rhythm became out of control, without a warning, he leaned down to find your lips as your legs went over his shoulders- opening you up some more to his pounding.

But every noise you made was quickly swallowed by his kiss. Taking your screams, shouts of profanity as you came undone beneath him. Your legs shook, buckling harshly around his neck as he went on to find his climax.

Immediately, he stood up, pulled out and came all over your stomach unannounced. Panting loudly as he milked his cock thoroughly, letting every drop of his seed coat your skin. It was a mess but you still giggled. Glancing up to look at him, naked and in all his glory.

The sudden question came to mind: what does this mean to the friendship? The business plan? What about the secrets?

You pondered said things for a while just as Chris carried you into bed, making himself comfortable behind you. He cuddled nicely, it felt good as a warm feeling soon took over your soul. This was a new step in whatever friendship you both had, but maybe this was a good thing.

“I haven’t been with someone in so long , I forgot how amazing it felt.”

He murmured into your hair, you could sense his drowsiness taking over as his breathing calms. His arms brought you in a little tighter as the seconds ticked by, making you feel all giddy. It’s been so long that you too haven’t felt like this , the moment itself was perfect.

Maybe ... a little too perfect.

But like always, before your final thought of drifting off to sleep , a bad feeling seemed to vibrate in your chest.

The night was dark... darker than ever. The wind is loud, a chatter within leaves as sudden whispers catch your attention.

By your window.

You hear them.

Goodnight...

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

Chapter Six IS OUT NOW...

#admin ms #stray kids smut #stray kids bang chan #skz smut #bang chan smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids series #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids fanfic #stray kids one shots #skz one shots

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op-peccatori · 4 years

Text

to know him (is to love him) | MLQC Victor (M)

Fandom: Mr Love: Queen’s Choice

Pairing: Victor/Reader

Rating: 18+/Explicit/NSFW

Word Count: 2900

Summary: It was something that had only come up in the occasional daydream, a delicious reversal of your roles. You couldn’t have ever imagined that it was something he’d been thinking of too.

A/N: NO, I don’t know where this came from either. it came to me in a seductive whisper at 3 AM I feel the need to let you know this isn’t something I’ve tried personally and it’s really more of an exercise in writing so, if you read it, hope you enjoy. and maybe laugh a little.

I need to stop exposing myself like this. (warnings/tags under the cut)

Warnings/Tags: explicit sexual content, language, soft dom!MC, anal (male receiving), pegging, oral sex, slightly ooc Victor? idk I think the guy would loosen up with something else up his ass, i’ll...edit this later

With a slight tilt of your head, you observe the still figure on the bed.

Silken strands of ebony hang over eyes that stare back at you intensely, belying the relaxed state of his body. Victor lounges on his stomach, the same position you’d left him in while you went to finish your report; you saunter over to the foot of the bed, admiring the muscular legs spread in a v-position.

Your attention is immediately recaptured by the cherry on top, the icing on the cake, the beautiful jewel nestled between thick asscheeks littered with marks–some lipstick stains, some sucked lovingly into his skin. The deep blush spreading from his cheeks to his ears down to his chest is adorable, the way his hips press into the bed at your reappearance incredibly tempting.

“Look at you,” you murmur appreciatively, pulling your hair back in a tight ponytail. You have vivid memories of the first time you had ventured into the backdoor territory, your tongue circling his puckered hole; the memory of the way Victor’s strong thighs had trembled and his fingers had tightened in your hair never fails to make your mouth water. “You doing alright, babe?”

You climb onto the bed, sitting on folded knees between his spread legs, your fingers working their way up his legs with a gentle massage.

“Mm, I’m fine,” he mumbles, his words casual but his tone containing the slightest hitch as your hands come to rest on his ass, squeezing the supple flesh gently. He grinds down into the mattress, desperate for the friction. “Are you done with your report?”

“Yes, all done. We can finally focus on you,” you coo, running a finger over the jewelled head before patting his thigh. “I’m going to need you on your back, you think you could do that for me?”

“Yeah, give me a sec.” Victor moves carefully, shifting his weight to his elbows and knees as he turns onto his back, keeping his knees folded and feet flat on the bed; he leaves enough space between his legs for you to crawl forward, rubbing his inner thighs soothingly, your eyes focusing on his stuff member before drifting up his body.

“Are you comfortable?”

“Yes,” he hesitates, studying your fond little smile as you continue to watch him. He scoffs lightly. “Are you going to sit there all night?”

“If you want me to,” you tease lightly, and he glares before curling a hand around yours, tugging you forward until you manoeuvre your limbs around his and straddle his stomach, keeping your weight on your knees. Victor looks gorgeous like this, sprawled on his back with the soft dim lighting in the room and the moonlight painting his pale skin, his hair adorably tousled.

“You look beautiful, baby,” you whisper as his questing fingers slip beneath the hem of your short silk robe, brushing over soft skin to cup a breast, rolling a nipple between nimble fingers. He doesn’t say a word but the slight curl of his lips says it all.

You can’t help the way you smile in response to his, eyes half-lidded as you lean in, brushing your lips against his, light as the first fragile snowflake to reach the ground.

His lips part and you dive in, mouth settling firmly over his as your tongue slips in to brush against his. Your fingers brush his bangs away from his face and his fingers dig into your breast. He moans when your lips close around his tongue, sucking lightly, his hips bucking involuntarily beneath you.

You pull away panting, watching his face twist with disapproval, full brows knitting together. His legs straighten out a bit and he tries to push you back, and you don’t have to look back to know how strained and flushed his erection is, the needy demand in his eyes and touch tipping you off.

“Y/n,” he mutters, eyelashes fluttering as your lips trace a hot path along his neck, his head tilting to the side automatically. “Y/n...”

“Yes?” You pull back to look at him questioningly, as if you don’t know what he needs, what he’s been waiting for all day.

He scowls you at you. You squint at him as if not understanding what he’s trying to say. “Fuck, y/n, I’m going to–“

“Tell me what you want,” you murmur pleasantly, cutting him off as you lean in, the tips of your noses nearly brushing. His bottom lip quivers, you feel his warm breath on your lips, but no words come out and you decide to help him out. “Do you want me to suck your cock? Is that it, baby?”

Victor, glare wavering just the slightest bit, gives a small nod and you smile faintly–before your fingers come up to rest on his throat. He freezes, mostly in surprise, but you don’t increase the pressure, just digging in your nails lightly.

“Say it.” The words are clipped, contrasting with your benign expression. His throat bobs under your touch as he swallows. You can almost see him weigh his options, the way he considers just flipping you over and fucking you senseless; but you’ve talked about this, and he knows you won’t mind but neither of you likes derailing from the agenda.

“I need you–I need your mouth, your hands, anything. Please suck my dick.” He would never beg, but you’re nonetheless quite delighted with the beseeching note in his voice.

“Anything for you,” you croon, planting a quick kiss on his cheek as he huffs before shuffling back and onto his thighs, reaching for his neglected cock. It brushes your thigh as you move, and it’s surprisingly difficult to steer yourself away from the thought of just-

Okay. No. Bad y/n.

You start with slow pumps, ducking your head to bring your mouth to it, giving soft kitten licks around the tip, the slightly salty taste of his wetness a familiar one. His breathing stutters as his hands grabbing fistfuls of the bedspread, keeping himself still as you work him diligently.

It’s nice that he’s being so obedient, but would that remain so in the face of obstacles? You should test him, right? Victor loves his tests, after all.

You take in as much of his length into your mouth as you can, continuing the motions of your hand as your tongue undulates along it. You take in his soft groan before letting him slip out of your mouth. And then, just as he raises his head to look at you, a protest on the tip of his tongue, you dip the tip of your tongue into the wet slit at the head of his cock–just the slightest bit, and thrilled shivers erupt all over your skin as he slams his head back into the pillow, a helplessly loud groan almost resembling a growl erupting from his mouth.

How lovely.

“Fuck, y/n, please–“

At that, you take him in your mouth once more, working it in tandem with your hand as you increase your pace with one goal in mind. Just when you know he’s close, his thighs tensing and his hips beginning to snap into your mouth, your fingers sneak down to fondle his balls carefully.

Victor comes with a loud curse, a helpless groan of your name; warm, thick liquid fills your mouth and you swallow as much as you can, allowing the rest to dribble down your chin and over your fingers and his skin. You swallow forcefully as you lock eyes with him, savouring the flash of desire in his eyes.

Victor’s breathing evens out slowly as you clean him up, his limbs relaxed and unmoving, and you start to wonder if he’s dozed off until you look up and catch him watching you.

Going by the look on his face alone, sleeping seems to be the last thing on his mind.

“Are you sure you want to do this tonight?” You reach for his hand, bringing it up to brush your lips over his knuckles, relishing in his slightly flustered expression.

You have to wonder why Victor’s so surprised. You did, after all, learn from the best.

He takes a moment to think about it, eyes darting to the harness resting harmlessly on a chair in the corner of the room. “Yes, I’m sure.”

“Not too tired?”

“No.”

You study him for another moment before nodding. “I’ll get us ready, then. Safe word?”

“Dummy.”

You share a smile at that, chuckling softly as you climb off the bed and reach for the strappy gear. Silently thanking YouTube as you clip it on, feeling like you’re about to raid a tomb, you reach for the chosen dildo and pivot, only to freeze in place.

Victor seems to have taken it upon himself to get into one of the positions you’d researched, staying on his back and pulling his knees up until they’re closer to his chest, and the visual goes straight to your groin; you swear that you feel your cunt tremble from this sight alone, of this powerful man spread on his back for you, and it takes you a moment to realize he’s saying something.

“Y/n?” he repeats, looking annoyed when you jump and look at him, before it shifts into something more self-conscious. “I think this should work.”

“Y-yeah...” You amble back over to the bed in a slight daze, grabbing the lube off the side table, sliding onto the bed deftly. Your mouth trembles and dries up: Victor, with his knees up, plugged for nearly an hour now, ready for you to fuck him.

“...Is everything okay?” he peers at you curiously, flushing slightly when you run your fingers over the backs of his thighs. His, now mostly flaccid, cock rests on his stomach, and you decide it to leave it alone for now.

“Just wondering how I got so lucky,” you admit easily, a sly smile forming on your lips when he scoffs, but the pleased tilt of his mouth gives him away. “Did I mention you’re gorgeous?”

“Yes, you did.” He averts his eyes but you don’t miss his slight smirk, prompting your own as you reach for the plug. His expression falters as you twist it in place, a soft sound leaving his throat.

“I’m gonna pull this out now, okay?”

“Mm.” He shifts as you pull the toy out, pouring the cool lube over your fingers; you circle the flexing hole, eyes darting between your hand and his face. A long finger slides in, followed by a second, and his eyelids flutter as you slide them in and out, marvelling at the way his walls clamp down on them.

“Feels okay?”

“Yeah,” his mouth parts silently as you angle your wrist, brushing over where you’ve, in the past few weeks, come to know his prostate is. “Ah-feels good.” You’re glad his eyes are closed; he misses your pleased grin.

“Y/n,” he opens his eyes, waiting until you look away from the lovely sight of your fingers entering him and meet them, giving you a firm nod. “I’m ready.”

You can’t help but remember saying those exact words to him, more than a year ago, the night you had sex with him for the first time. The way he grins lets you know he’s remembering the same thing, and you shake your head lightly as you pull your fingers out.

Well, then, you should aim to be just as good as he was. A lofty goal, but you’ve been in a relationship with arguably the most enterprising man in the city for over a year–and you’re no stranger to ambition.

Once you’re sure the dildo is dripping with enough lube, you shuffle forward, guiding the tip to his entrance. You’re oddly nervous, even though you’ve spent weeks prepping for this, but Victor’s gaze is clear of any worry; his eyes, luminous and fervent, meet yours steadily. You reach for his hand, the one resting beside him, and lace your fingers through his tightly.

You push the head of the toy through, a part of you wishing you could actually feel it, and stop there.

“Keep going.”

“Victor-“

“Keep going, y/n,” he gasps, “please.”

You start moving at once, at his breathless demand, much to your chagrin–old habits do die hard. He groans deeply, chest heaving, hand squeezing yours. You still once you bottom out, your breath stuck in your chest as you watch him squirm, his jaw clenching as he adjusts.

“Okay?” you whisper, your walls squeezing almost despondently around nothing as you watch his cock get stiffer, as he opens eyes glazed over with arousal.

“Yeah,” Victor pushes his hips up lightly, “I’m good. Are you?”

You try not to laugh, because he’s so sweet even when he’s the one with a five-inch dildo up his ass. “Perfect.”

“Then move,” he commands, and you bite back a yes sir as you slide out halfway, before sliding back in. “Oh, fuck.”

“Good?”

“I love you,” he groans, and this time you do giggle as you start thrusting slowly. “Babygirl, ah, keep going.”

It feels surreal to be on the receiving end of these words, to be the one fucking him, but you enjoy it immensely, even though the movement feels a bit strange. Perhaps you should’ve listened to Victor and opted for one of those dual dildos. But you’d wanted the first time to be about him, to focus on his pleasure and not let your own be a distraction. Your pace is steady, nearly a grind and he rocks his hips into yours.

“Harder. I’m not made of glass-“ His choked gasp as you cut him off with a hard snap of your hips sends satisfaction rushing through your veins. No wonder he does it so often, you would love to see that again.

It takes a few tries to angle it right, to have the toy brushing his prostate, but you’re rewarded by him writhing beneath you, your name falling from his lips in a curse and a prayer in turns. His cock, flushed and erect, bounces enticingly as you drill into him. You hope you’re not rushing when you reach for it, giving it a few quick pumps and Victor cracks. You let go of his cock in slight fear as he shouts, but his other hand finds yours and guides it back to his straining erection.

“Please, fuck–I’m so close, baby, so close–“ he pants, his hips lifting to meet yours as you pick up your faltering pace. There’s a strange sort of desperation welling in you, a need to see him come, and your hand wraps around his cock firmly as you lift your interlocked hands to place them on his folded knee, his other leg having fallen to the side.

With his lips parted, deep groans rumbling from his chest, stormy eyes shut tight–Victor looks ethereal as he comes, like a wild god falling apart beneath you. His seed spills over his chest, and he’s shaking, his hand lax in your grip, and you take a moment to breathe before sliding out as gently as you can.

He hisses as you do so, looking up at you tiredly as you help him turn to his side, unclipping the harness hurriedly as you move over to his side, wiping impatiently at the sweat dripping down your cheeks.

Your lips brush his temple as you stroke his damp hair gently, drawing a tiny hum from his throat as he presses his face into your stomach. Unsure if you should wake him up if he’s dozed off, you’re relieved when he stirs, tilting his head up and smiling as you kiss him softly.

“Okay?”

“Mm.” He moves as if to scoot closer, before pausing and staring down at his chest.

“Right, here–“

Reaching for a small towel and handing him a glass of water as you clean him up, admittedly hovering as he takes small sips; you’re gifted with an eye-roll from him.

“Calm down.”

“How does a bath sound?” you ask instead. He considers you for a moment, taking in your nervous expression and wringing hands. He stretches, muscles rippling beneath his skin–and winces. You take that as a yes, scrambling off the bed.

“Only if you join me,” he calls after you as you run to the bathroom. He looks surprised when, after turning the water on, you run to the door of the bedroom. “What are you doing?”

“Getting you a snack!” you answer over your shoulder, hurrying to the kitchen and grabbing the prepped bowl of fruit. You’re back at his side in record time, place the bowl on the bed as he lounges on his side, head propped up on a palm.

“I’m fine, y/n,” he sighs, accepting the strawberry with a long-suffering look.

“I know, but-”

“But nothing,” he pops another slice into his mouth. You settle behind him and he leans back into your arms, something sly in the curve of his smile. You pepper every inch of skin you can reach with soft kisses, resisting the urge to hold him tighter. “Although I could get used to this.”

Your mind flashes back to his face when you first slid into him, the way he’d moaned shamelessly as you thrust into him, the way he fell to pieces when he came. And then you take in the way he’s sunk into your embrace, nibbling contentedly on the snack he ‘didn’t need.’

“Yeah. Me too.”

#mlqc #mlqc victor #mlqc smut #mlqc victor x reader #mlqc li zeyan #mr love queen's choice #mr love: queen's choice #pls lemme know what u think #also if you notice any inconsistencies #my brain: not workin

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tickle-bugs · 3 years

Note

simply thinking about the group all hanging out and the chaos.... the tickle fights 👀

- ragnarok anon

SO TRUE LETS TALK THE CONFERENCE IS IN SESSION

Spoilers for seasons 1 & 2 of Ragnarök below!

- Thinking about Turid being like "you should hang out with your friends more!" and magne and laurits are like :| but it's too late Turid's using the Mom Voice and insisting they have a get together

- Magne suggests a sleepover and Laurits wants to flee the country, but it turns out to be the most painless so they go with it.

- They invite Oscar first because once you invite Oscar to something, everyone else kinda just shows up. (Continuing my rarepair agenda: Laurits would obviously invite the bf first <3)

- Magne specifically does Not want the Jutuls there for....obvious reasons.....but Gry won't go without Fjor and Saxa overheard Oscar talking about it so...guess who's on the guest list c:

- In the fix it au in my head, Isolde survives, and thus Isolde is also here <3

- Fjor and Saxa somehow arrive to the sleepover overdressed. Silk pjs, Gucci slippers, eyemasks, the works. Everyone teases them but also like. WHO is doing it like the Jutuls. No one.

- They all go buy an absurd amount of snacks from the grocery store in their pjs. All of them just giggling and running through the aisles stocking up on junk food.

- They settle in for movies (i like to picture them watching American movies and making fun of them because they're ridiculous). Jurassic Park ends up in the line-up and Saxa, Fjor, Magne, and Laurits literally almost out themselves in seconds by arguing about the accuracy/scariness of the dinos in the film

- At some point, someone (Oscar) just fuckin. WAPS magne with a pillow like pillow fight! lets go dude! and the living room erupts in chaos and feathers. the humans in the room are like c: fun bonding activity and the giants and gods, eyes blazing, are like ONLY ONE MAY SURVIVE chasing each other around and stuff. crazy kids <3

- like of COURSE this turns into a tickle fight and it's Isolde and Oscar's fault. Oscar thinks it's funny to poke Laurits in the side as he's about to land the killing pillow blow on Magne, and Saxa makes a noise that she would never EVER admit to when Isolde curiously scritches at her ribs. Instant bloodbath.

- Laurits and Saxa both share a Look and their respective humans are like WAIT NO and make a run for it. Magne grabs Isolde's ankle and scoops her up like >:) and Oscar trips over Fjor and Gry and suddenly they are very interested in his nervous laughter

- Fjor is so sweet tho like...Isolde is giggly and begging him to give away literally just one of Saxa's spots so she'll have a fighting chance and Fjor's like "I dunno. Sorry." but the look on his face tells another story.

- Laurits, who somehow fuckin just DISAPPEARED from the chaos, just appears next to Fjor like "what about your spots?" >:) and Gry is more than happy to show him. Fjor is sweating, then he's laughing, because Gry and Laurits was not the devastating tag team he expected, but together they are ruining him.

- with Fjor and Gry distracted, Oscar tries to sneak away, but Saxa's like 👁️👁️ and immediately grabs him. Oscar dramatically cries out to Magne for help but his hero is face down in the corpses of about ten pillows, cackling, and trying to shove Isolde's hands out from under his arms. No help for you Oscar </3

- When the big tickle fight eventually dies down, it keeps starting up again on smaller scales throughout the night. Oscar and Laurits constantly tickle each other, which means one of them flails, which means the person who got hit wants revenge, etc. Fjor and Gry are all cute and soft and at least three people are like EWWW and dogpile them. Magne and Laurits keep pestering each other. Saxa is MEAN and will randomly just attack people. Isolde and Oscar conspire to bother as many people as possible <3

- Hi pls picture Magne and Fjor looking at each other like >:( and they're having some sort of subtext argument, as usual, and Magne looks about ready to bop Fjor in the nose, but Oscar is like "NO FIGHTING" and everyone else agrees. But Fjor thinks it's like....kinda funny that he's so attached to human opinions, so he pesters Magne until Magne launches himself off the couch, tackles Fjor, and harnesses maximum big brother energy to just. tickle him to bits. It's kinda a fight if you squint but it's more Magne being VERY smug and Fjor reconsidering if a lack of oxygen can kill him

- HI idk if anyone else did this at sleepovers (i had like two total growing up so the metric is. hard) but!! nails!!! Oscar makes it a requirement that everyone leaves with their nails painted, yes, even Saxa. It turns out to be a sweet bonding activity until a) Laurits having ticklish hands becomes friendgroup knowledge because Oscar is a bully and b) when Gry insists that everyone's toenails should match and more tickly shenanigans inevitably ensue

- okay but Isolde pulling Saxa aside to a corner somewhere while everyone else is loudly complaining about the pedicure and being like "I can do yours, if you want. If you hate it--" and Saxa, not wanting to be left out, is like "Yes. Mhm. Do it." Which is fun and all until she can't stop laughing at the gentle touches on her feet and Isolde is laughing along with her, trying to align the red paint to some semblance of perfection on her toes. It doesn't work out very well.

- Middle of the night truth or dare/ouija board shenanigans with this group would be incredible. No further thoughts your honor <3

- Like to think Turid was in on this the whole time because Oscar and Turid would be besties. They have that energy. Oscar being like >:) im your mom's favorite and Laurits being like >:O MOTHER

- this is. very incoherent. so sorry about that thus far but ALSO Magnus doing his little electricity party trick and then realizing in a literal lightbulb moment that he could like. be using this to get an upper hand in the tickly shenanigans. Pls just give me Magne getting DESTROYED by Fjor or Laurits and then he just claws a hand into their stomach (Laurits) or flutters his fingers by their ear (fjor) and they just. Scream.

- AU where the friends are all aware of Laurits, Magne, Saxa, and Fjor not being human and that factors into the teasing. Just think Oscar, Isolde, and Gry would be beyond entertained if they knew the truth. Also entertainment for the night being like. Idk strength contests and arm wrestling and shit while all the humans are watching and placing bets. bench pressing your friends IS a category and Saxa and Magne are tied. Also give me like. Fjor or Magne lifting something heavy or another person or smth and Saxa is like :) and poke. poke. poke. poke. and they have to not drop what/whoever they're holding.

- head full brain scrampled egg <3 i missed these kiddos :')

#my headcanons #ragnarök anon #ragnarök #im not gonna tag this with everyone im lazy #this is so incoherent because i am TIRED #vacation wiped me out bleh #didnt realize how much time i spent in front of screens until i spent a week almost entirely without em

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lennydaisy · 4 years

Text

EPIPHANY // OUTER BANKS

The Outer Banks. Paradise on earth. Well, it is if you can afford it.

Figure 8, home of the portentous and intitled. So detached from reality that you'd have to use their private jets to bring them back down to the ground. If they're not lounging around on their secluded beaches in front of their White House sized mansions, then they're at the country club complaining that their ice-cold lemonade isn't ice-cold enough. We call them Kooks. Guess where I don't live?

Next up, The Cut, neutral habitat of, drum roll please ladies and gentleman... The Pogues. Lowest members of the food chain. You see, it's one island divided in two. You either have two houses or two jobs. I have two jobs and will still never be able to afford one house, let alone two, but that's life I guess. The Pogues are like those kids your parents tell you to stay away from when you visit the park. Well, now the park has stretched to all aspects of life warranting us to be unwanted and neglected which isn't such a bad thing, that just means we get to do whatever we want, whenever we want.

Right now, however, this is the last place I want to be. Save-A-Lot. One of my two jobs. See how this all ties in?

The continuous, subtly, beeping of the scanner, the bright overhead lights that the same moth has been flying into for a week now, that one cart that you can hear before you see, and this frustratingly itchy, red polo shirt that I'm wearing because it's 'oh-so mandatory'.

It's been reported that a storm is going to hit us in a couple of days, so naturally, the stores been busier than usual, with both Kooks and Pogues. It's like sacred land, all differences get put aside in this very store unless there's a two for one deal at the seafood counter. In that case, no one's safe, not even me, the poor, little employee. I've been slapped with a Tuna Fish before. I don't want to talk about it.

"Can I interest you in some... What are they again? Sea salted chocolate with a crushed Macadamia nut shell and a rich creamy filling, homemade by Mrs Adams?" I squint at the packaging before smiling at the man before me who peered at me, head tilted slightly. Nodding instantly, already knowing the answer, "I don't blame you, I wouldn't trust anything made by that lady."

Smashing my fingers on the scratch invested, touch screen register, slapping the side of the machine until it eventually rings up the total, "That'll be $148.98 however, you get the extended family discount, so that makes it..." twirling my finger around the air, attempting the mental math, "10% off $148," I utter, closing my eyes as if that's going to help me find the answer quicker. 'I knew I should have joined the math team with Pope.'

"$134," the man affirms looking at me sympathetically, halting my search for my calculator that is normally taped to the till. I take the mans money, squinting at him, "Okay, I'll take your word for it man but if I get fired, I want a job at The Wreck," handing him his receipt.

"We'll see," he said putting his packed bags back into his cart, "I'll get through to you one day. You can't deny I'm your favourite" I state in a matter of fact, waving him off as he pushes his cart away from the checkout, "Bye Mason."

"I don't hear you denying it," I shout, watching him hurridly pushing his cart towards the door, "Okay bye Mr Carrera, tell Kie I said hi!"

Twirling around in my chair a couple of times, I came to a stop at the sight of a pink calculator, my pink calculator, taped to Mrs Adams till. That Bitch. I sit patiently for her to be done with her customers, waving at the elderly couple as they pass, "See you later Mr and Mrs Graham, have a nice day," I smile.

"Oh you too Mason, you should stop by again, you and your friends were such a delight the last time," Mrs Graham praises tapping her ringed fingers on my counter. Nodding at her request as her husband began to drag her away from me, claiming he 'Wants to be home today not tomorrow,' knowing his wife to be quite the blether.

"What a pleasant young lady. Wouldn't you agree, Marty?"

"Oh yes, very well mannered."

"Listen here, sticky fingers, I know you stole my calculator" My smile instantly dropping as I look upon the thief that I have the pleasure of calling my co-worker.

Mrs Adams is your typical grandma. Tonged hair, thick-rimmed glasses and filled with opinions that are always unwarranted. She has had it out for as long as I can remember, once locking me in the walk-in freezer claiming to not know I was in there despite being in there with me moments before. At least I only have to deal with her a few days a week, I couldn't handle any more than that.

"What calculator?" she questions innocently. Pointing my finger accusingly at her till where low and behold, sits my calculator, "Oh really, what's that then?"

Sparing a glance at my calculator, she shakes her head, nose pointed up, "That's an anniversary gift from my husband. I, by no means, stole your calculator."

I can't believe I'm having this conversation.

Laughing at her alibi, "Are you aware of how much bullsh-", the clearing of a throat interrupts my tangent and I suddenly became aware of where I am again. Mrs Adams raises her eyebrows at me, is she mocking me? Glaring at her one last time as to say 'this conversation isn't over', I timidly spun my chair back around, plastering a smile on my face, getting ready to greet my next customer.

Oh no.

"Hi, Mr Cameron," I greet the man, scratching behind my ear hoping he didn't overhear me. Beginning to scan his items, another figure catches my eye.

Rafe.

Here, ladies and gentlemen, I present the biggest dickhead on the entire island. He thinks everybody owes him something just because his daddy is well known throughout the OBX and has no problem expressing his distaste for anyone who doesn't fit his agenda. He's a cocky, arrogant snob who needs to be knocked off his podium a few inches, or feet.

"Hello, Mason, and how many times have I told you to call me Ward?"

"Clearly not enough for me to listen," I mutter under my breath, passing the already packed bags towards a very accepting Rafe, who snatched them with a scrawl printed on his face, "Your face will stay like that if the winds change" I advise innocently, waving my fingers around my forehead area, "Don't want to get any wrinkles, but if you need some anti-ageing cream, I'm sure Mrs Adams can recommend a few of her favourites,"

"Maybe even get you a coupon," I suggest finishing to scan the last of their items, "Isn't that right, Mrs Adams," I called to the lady over my shoulder how instantly peeped up at the chance to chat with the boy.

"Oh, yes. Come here deary, I'll show you my collection,"

It's no secret throughout the OBX that Mrs Adams is a bit of a renowned cougar, having no problem expressing herself towards any sort of male attention. Mrs Adam doesn't discriminate, so even assholes like Rafe can't escape the clutches of her fondness, but she's harmless... most of the time.

Ward nudges his son in the direction of the lady, who is eagerly waiting for the boy with her creams placed in an orderly fashion before her. Rafe's eyes practically begging for his dad to have some mercy on him only to earn a point in her direction.

"I hate you," he huffs at me, feet dragging towards the ladies till.

Fluttering my eyes with a cheesy smile, "I know," I say before turning to finish Mr Cameron's groceries.

"That's $236 please," I state ringing up his total as he slides his card into the swipe machine, "It'll take a minute, a caveman has better technology than this place." He shakes his head at me, waving his hand slightly, understanding.

"Sea salted chocolate, uh?" he wonders picking up the bar, as I mentally slap myself for forgetting to ask if he was interested, "Would you like to buy one?" I questioned despite already knowing his answer. It's the same one that I've heard all day.

Placing the packet back in its place he shakes his head, "No thank you, I wouldn't trust anything made by that lady."

"That's what I'm saying," ripping off his receipt before handing it to him, "Thank you, Mason," he laughs before turning towards his son, who is still listening to Mrs Adams ramble on about why she prefers Olay over Caudlíne.

About to bid farewell to the man, he turns and asks, "I hate to be a bother and I know it's short notice, but would you mind babysitting Wheezie for me on Saturday morning, I know you don't normally work weekends, it's just this storm's going to cause a run-in with my properties and-"

"Of course I will, Mr Cameron," I interrupted his ramble. He looks at me relieved, nodding his head, "See you later, Mason."

"Bye Ward," gross, I'm sticking with Mr Cameron.

Watching as the pair walk past my till I can't help but laugh as I see Rafe slouching away with a tub of Olay Anti-ageing cream. Turning around at the sound, he flips me off, "I'll get you back for this," earning a shoving on the shoulder from his dad, but I can't help but wave cheerily, "Oh, I'm sure you will."

Mr Ward Cameron, my other boss. A few years ago I put up flyers with a tear-off of my phone number offering a babysitting service. Safe to say, I got my fair share of prank calls and when I got a call from someone claiming to be Mr Cameron I assumed it was someone messing with me again, but it turns out it wasn't. He genuinely needed someone to watch his youngest daughter Wheezie and I needed cash, and he does pay generously, especially now considering recent circumstances.

Glancing at the clock that is nailed above the exit I see that it's 2:00 P.M, the best time of my day, getting out of here. Grabbing the key from my pocket, I lock up the till before heading toward the poor excuse of a staff room.

Glancing around the room blue painted room, making sure no one is still on their lunch, I quickly grab my bag and dash over to the fridge. I never, and mean never, condone stealing, that's why I don't call it that. I prefer 'borrowing and then 'forgetting' to give it back'. Sure, I never asked if I could 'borrow' the alcohol that I am currently stuffing in my bag but, that's neither here nor there.

I throw my bag, which I can already tell is going to cause my back hell, over my shoulder. I grab Kie longboard, which I did ask for permission to use, and begin to make my way past the checkouts.

Before leaving, I pivot around, "Hey, Mrs Adams," I called out just to see that she was already glaring in my direction, a bit creepy if you ask me, "Don't worry, you've only got like what, another 6 hours?" acting like I didn't know as I pointed at the clock.

"Oh, and before I forget," I rush over to her counter and rip my calculator off her till. Smiling sweetly at the older lady, saluting her as I leave, "See you next week, Mrs Adams," I laugh, running out the door, jumping onto the longboard.

Let the fun begin.

Now there is something about my friends that you should know. As cheesy as its sounds, we're a group of misfits who happen to fit perfectly together, well almost perfectly, but no matter what we've got each other backs.

Now, where do we start?

JJ Maybank. We've been best friends since the third grade after he got into a fight with some kids who were making fun of me for having a 'boys name', and I haven't been able to get rid of him since. He's the guy who jokingly pushed me off the HMS Pogue only to quickly find out that I couldn't swim. I insisted that it was fine but JJ doesn't take no for an answer and took it upon himself to personally teach me.

He's the most loyal guy I know, willing to drop anything to help his friends. I most definitely developed my kleptomaniac tendencies from him and despite how much I deny it, I have a soft spot for him.

Next, Kiara Carrera or Kie, my best and only girl friend. I met Kie during her first year at the Kook Academy, I had seen her around before, passing out leaflets about how 'we're killing our planet' and that 'the turtles deserve better'.

I was about to go fishing with my dad when I saw someone sitting at the dock, feet dangling in the water. Long story short: she was supposed to meet up with some of her 'friends' but they had sailed away leaving her behind. So, I asked if she would like to come fishing with us, half expecting her to say no, being partly a Kook and all, but she said yes. And now she's one of us, the Pogues. Not sure how her parents feel about that, but there is no denying I'm their favourite. Right?

There's Pope Heyward. I met Pope in the first grade. We were sitting beside each other at assembly and he dared to tell me that my singing voice sounded like cats dying, not that he was any better mind you. I had seen him around the cut a few times, helping his dad with deliveries and after seeing him struggle to carry four bags of groceries, I offered him some help. Of course, being a stubborn 6-year old boy, he delined saying 'I don't need your help, I'm super strong'. Safe to say, two seconds later I was carrying two bags and helped Pope and Mr Heyward with the rest of the deliveries that day.

I got an earful from my dad when I got home, but I didn't care, I'd made a friend that wasn't my brother. They didn't believe me when I said I had a friend called Pope, just brushing it off as one of my imaginary friends. Let's just say they got a fright when my 'imaginary friend, Pope' showed up at the Château.

Speaking of, up next, John Booker Routledge, John B. My twin, fraternal twin. Is 12 minutes older than me and will never let me forget it. My favourite memory with John B was when he fought to the death with our triplet in the womb. Okay, maybe that didn't happen, but you weren't there so, where's your evidence that it didn't?

He's my other half, not my better half because we all know I'm the better twin, and I couldn't live with him and his optimism. He can be irrational at times, but he always has plan A-Z mapped out in his head. I'm currently trying to convince him that we psychic powers, and by currently I'm mean from the day we were born. It's a weird sensation like there's a pit in the bottom of my stomach, and once I get that feeling I know that something's not right. And with a brother like John B, I get that feeling at least 3 times a day.

Might as well introduce myself whilst I'm at it. I'm Mason, Mason Routledge. The better twin. Yes, I too, have a middle name but I will never tell it to anyone because of how utterly embarrassing it is. I have managed to swear John B to secrecy, but I know it's just a matter of time before he blurts it out.

Now I know what you're probably thinking, 'Mason? That's a boys name.' Well yes, you'd be right but really what is a boys or girls name? The reason why I'm called Mason is simple, mom and dad were expecting twins. Twin boys. They had the names planned out as soon as they heard the news. One would be named John B after our dad, Big John, and the other would be named Mason, after our mom's dad. Makes sense, right?. Well, it was until I popped out, y' know not being a boy. But I love my name and I wouldn't change it for the world. My unspoken middle name, however, yes, I would rather that just not be associated with me.

I like to believe that I can hold my own, maybe it's because I grow up in a predominantly male household or the fact that I'm a Pogue, but I don't take peoples shit. My friends and I seem to always have the world against us, but without a doubt, I'd ride or die for them. They're my family.

Seeing the all too familiar hippie van parked at the side off the road brings me out of my autopilot state. Jumping off the longboard, I hurriedly shoved it into the back of the van. Fun fact about John B's van, he never locks it. There would be the fear about someone stealing it, but honestly, it's trashed and smells like weed, no thanks to JJ.

Quickly scaling the fence and as quietly as possible I tip-toed into the under-construction house and up the cement stairs, dodging the dangling wires and leftover pots of plaster.

'I can't believe they got rid of the turtles for this'

I'd know that voice anywhere. Peering around the corner, I spot Kie, hunched over a table reading what I'm assuming is maps for the house. Coming up with an idea, I slowly start to creep towards her, raising my hands just to clasp them down on her shoulders, "And what do you think you're doing?" I say in the deepest voice I can muster.

Jumping out her skin with a squeal, she spins around, hand over her heart, breathing heavily, "Macy, what the fuck? Don't do that," she exclaims, slapping my arm after she realises it was only me.

Unable to stop myself from laughing at her shock, "God, Kie, didn't know you had such a girly scream," I wheeze, arms wrapped around my stomach in an attempt to stop the ache.

Nodding her head pettily, "Yeah okay, you got me," clicking her tongue, but against her best efforts, a small smile dances across her face.

Taking a few deep breaths to calm my giggles, "Once you're done with sad girl hours, come out back, I've got beer," making my way towards the open glass doors.

"Caring about the turtles doesn't make me a sad girl," she exclaims as I nod my head understandingly, "You keep telling yourself that," I wave stepping outside, breathing in the fresh ocean breeze.

From under the scaffolding, I see a pair of dangling legs, "Afternoon, boys," I announce, jumping up in an attempt to smack the dangling feet that I now know belong to JJ

"Did you get the goods?" asks John B causing me to hold my hand on my heart, mocking insult, "Do you have no faith in me Johnny boy," tosing him a beer, "Of course, I got the goods."

Holding one out for Pope, even though I knew he would decline, proving my point as he shook his head, "And where did you get said goods?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at me.

Grabbing two beers, I begin to climb up the scaffolding, plopping down next to JJ, handing him a beer which he greatly excepts, "Are you question my morals?" I ask, taking a big gulp of my beer instantly wincing at the lukewarm taste.

"No, no," I hear him say, turning around, occupying himself with the builder's tools.

It a pretty view from up here. The calm crashing of the waves. The way the cold ocean and the warm sky meet for a perfect kiss on the horizon. Imagine living here. Having no worries. Being full Kook.

Glancing at the boy beside me, I see that he was already looking at me. Lifting my eyebrows in question, "You look cute," he cheekily says, picking at the loose thread on my sleeve.

"Very funny JJ," I saying, looking back out at the water, "No, I'm serious. I love a woman in uniform," nudging his shoulder into mine and I nudge him right back, "Hey," he laughs, dramatically falling to his side, "Watch the sweet nectar," holding his can of beer dearly to his chest.

Shaking my head, I turn to see John B scaling the house, jumping up to the peak of the roof, "Hey, please be careful, Johnny B, we don't earn enough to cover a medical bill," I warn sitting my beer beside me, using my hands to block the blinding sun, staring questionably at the boy.

"Oh, but you'd catch me though, right?" he says, now taunting the idea of falling, balancing on one foot with outstretched arms, "And break your fall? Nope," I popped, reach over to grab my can only to grasp the air. Looking at where I know I placed it, my confusion vanishes when I hear the sounds of slurping beside me.

Blinking at the boy, who just peers back at me after tanning my can, crushing it, and letting out a pleasant burp which he so graciously blows in my direction, "Gross, JJ," attempting to swat away the smell. The boy just shrugs, "What were you not done with that?" faux concern covering his face but his eyes glistening with knowing mischief.

"Should I do it?"

"Yeah, jump. I'll shoot you on the way down," says Pope, aim a drill in my brother's direction, "You'll shoot me?" John B taunts, holding up a finger gun, "Pow," he laughs as Pope fall back onto the table pretending to be shot.

"They're going to have Japanese toilets with towel warmers," complains Kie, slugging her way onto the balcony, voicing her distaste for the future Kook's beach house.

"Didn't I tell you to come out when you were done being sad?", I direct, leaning my chin against the cold pole, feeling on top of the world as the fresh breeze blows through my hair.

That swiftly changes when Kie dashes towards my feet, tugging the laces on my converses loose as I hastily attempt to lift my feet away from her snapping fingers, "Go away!" I exclaim hugging my legs to my chest, tusking at her antics "God, you're annoying."

My comment doesn't affect her as she blows me a kiss which I can't help but catch, holding it to my heart sending a wink in her direction, "This used to be a turtle habitat, but who cares about the turtle I guess?"

"Well, I did, but since you've-" I start, but the feeling of my shoe gets tighter distracts me, "...What are you doing?" I question as JJ finishes up my shoes, "You should double knot your laces," he comments, tapping his fingers in a random beat on the toe of my shoes.

Lightly, I begin to flick his hand away only for him to grab my wrist, fiddling with the silver ladybug charm on my bracelet, "Can I have this?" He has asked me this multiple times in the past and the answer has always been the same, "No."

"Can you please not kill yourself?" Kie squints up at my brother, "And don't spill that beer, you're not getting another one," JJ adds just as a sudden gust of wind brushed past causing John B to lose his balance and drop his beer.

Jinx.

"Oh, shit. No!" cries John B, making grabby hands at his fallen beer.

"Of course you did, like right when I told you."

"Smooth."

"Well done, dumbass!"

"Hey!"

The sound of a car pull up to the driveway halts our attack on John B, yelling being heard, "Hey, uh, securities here. Let's wrap it up," confirms Pope, making JJ and I raise to our feet as John B slides off the roof, "Boys are here early today."

Rushing over to grab my bag once my feet are back on the balcony, I lean over the railing squinting, "Gary? Is that you?" I asked, "You know it's me, Mason."

Turning around to look at friends, "It's Gary guys," I smile, "Gary, good to see you, man!" JJ adds and quickly pulls the back of my bag when he sees Gary climb up the stairs, "JJ!"

"You two, are asking for it," Kie laughs as we all rush back through the house, all of us laughing and cheering, running down the stairs, "Go, go!" I giggled as I Gary's attempts to grab me but I duck under his swinging arms, running out to the garden.

"Not much of a hugger man," JJs joke echoing off the empty wall of the house.

Running up beside Pope, I urge him up over the fence, "Come on, Pope, go, go, go," landing on the other side, watching as he lands flat on his face, "Graceful as always Pope," I giggle pulling him back on his feet.

"Come on Pope, Fatso's coming" JJ encourages, suddenly landing beside us just barely missing the hot-headed security who is dangling over the fence, "Come here, you little pricks!"

"Bus is leaving," John B pulls up the van honking the horn, Kie opening the door for us, laughing as we shove each other in. John B wastes no time hitting the gas, driving away from the angry security.

"Check out Gary, gunnin' for a raise," Pope laughs as we watch a hopeless Gary chase after the van.

Having an idea, JJ unzips my bag and leans out of the open door, "Come on Gary," he taunts, waving the beer can in front of the man like you would a dog with a treat.

"You're going to give him a heart attack," Kie sympathises but still finds his actions amusing, "You're so close! You can do it. There you go," he tosses the can at the poor man who attempts to dodge it.

"God, they don't pay you enough, man" I laugh peering out the door, taking in the sight of Gray who is wheezing with his hands planted on his knees.

Seeing enough torture for one day, Kie tugs us back in, "That's enough," she says finally feeling sorry for the poor man, sliding the door close.

"Oh, come on. That sort of initiative is just begging to be punished," reasons JJ, plopping down in the back of the van, now finding interest fiddling with the blunt he pulled from his back pocket.

I lean my head on Kie's shoulder and sigh, "I love Gary," I confess, earning a flick on the head from Pope and a nudge on the leg from JJ

We're the Pogues, and our mission this summer is to have a good time, all the time.

Prologue: FIN!

What did you think?

I’m really excited to explore Mason’s character and her adventures with the Pogues. I have so much planned for her.

I hope you enjoyed this introduction <3

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thenervereport · 3 years

Text

AOC and Progressives Should Take Jimmy Dore’s Strategy for concessions on a M4All Vote.

So, this debate inside the Left went viral and trended for three whole days on Twitter. It all started with Political Commentator, Jimmy Dore, proposed a political strategy that called for AOC and the rest of the Progressive Caucus to use the leverage that is available, right now, withhold their vote for Nancy Pelosi as Speaker of the House, in exchange for concessions to floor a Congressional House Vote on Medicare For All. If you been paying attention, AOC rejected Jimmy’s plan and tweeted the following, while the time of me writing this piece of mine has offered NO strategy or plan of her own, alongside other critics of this plan like Ana Kasparian and Benjamin Dixon:

I don’t buy AOC’s nonsense, this time. And Kyle Kulinski, Secular Talk made this point that Kamala was, also, a Cosponsor for Bernie’s plan, but we all know where her allegiance stands, right now. So, I find this very misleading on AOC’s part, IMO. And this was my series of responses to some of the critical, “Progressive” clowns in the whole debate for the next two days:

They didn’t even try to leverage any power against Joe. And when they tried, it was too late and they did it in the most useless way possible: Writing “StRONg” letters like Nancy Pelosi.

Her argument is stupid. This gives no substantive reason as to why Jimmy strategy is wrong. OK, you agree with Kyle and the strategy, itself, but you’re still advocating against the whole idea just because of the messenger?

Note: She continues on, giving more strawman arguments that don’t deal whatsoever substance-wise, and I respond to her with this, which is true:

Like the fact that she’s a well-known progressive that fights tooth and nail for the Left’s policies, but goes down this route of critiquing a very a good strategy, just because of the messenger. It really does disgust me in a way, because this is in a way similar to how people shitted on Joe Rogan for semi-endorsing Bernie, when, in reality, Bernie did nothing or didn’t even compromise his beliefs to get Rogan on his side.

Then she goes on to talk about organizing General Strikes, protests, basically, and I responded to her and Nomiki Konst as you can see from above. Yeah, protests doesn’t mean shit when the party you’re fighting against has a detailed record of not listening to us when they got what they wanted from. This is part of the DUMB notion that we can push Biden left, which is beyond an empty dream.

Now, to think the day would exist where a portion of the Left would argue that having a vote on Medicare for All in the House is going to hurt the Left or we can’t act upon this plan since I don’t like the messenger. This does not make you politically intelligent. You’re unintentionally doing the establishment’s bidding. Medicare for All has a 69% or 70% approval rating, and other polls find that most Republican voters, also, support Medicare for All.

To the AOC defenders, here are three Reasons as to why she needs to be criticized, and why we should demand better from her and our elected, Progressive Politicians: 1) This wasn’t her first time not using her power or leverage. The election between Biden and Trump is the perfect example, as I mentioned in one of my tweets above. 2) If you don’t have the votes, stop sitting on your ass and get to work on it. Play politics and take a no prisoners approach for once in your career. 3) For once, hold Nancy Pelosi accountable. Mama Bear has no reason at all to be politically OP as she is, right now. As we all know and heard, Nancy Pelosi accepted a 908 or billion stimulate bill, that has no stimulus for the people, contains temporary liability shield for corporations, and is half of what Trump and Mnuchin offered her in the beginning of November. By the way, that plan was bill was a very good stimulate bill, and Ro Khanna was the ONLY one to call for her to take the deal. Yes, the bill did contain a liability shield, which was Pelosi’s scapegoat for rejecting it, obviously, for political reasons and advantage, in my opinion, but what in the world was the point of rejecting it if you’re still going to take it, later on, for half the price? Where was AOC and the rest? Nowhere, doughnut, zero criticism from them.

I replied and made this point in one of Fiorella Isabel’s tweets regarding the Left’s inaction against the establishment: (BTW, apologies for Conservationism. Wanted to Write Conservatism, but auto-correction f*cked me over)

Seriously, it’s beyond past due to simply simply sit on your ass, virtue tweet as the classical Twitter warrior we all know, and do nothing as you shine your ‘guiding’ light as the moral high ground. I’m like, no. The Democratic Party played that route and got steamrolled by the Republican Party multiple times.

And this goes back to my argument regarding Republicans and Obamacare. As I mentioned, No Republican voted for Obamacare, which was the Shitty, Conservative Healthcare Plan, and it was a very, politically smart move of them. This gave them in the ability to paint the narrative that Obama and the Democratic Party can’t deliver on healthcare to the American People since we all know Obamacare is so bad. Even if the Medicare for All vote fails, which we all would expect, this would help shape the narrative for the Left in both the short and long term for the better. The reason for that is because it will expose the politicians for who they truly are to the masses; thus, it would make it easier to primary these f*ckers in the future.

Do you have any idea how bad it would look if Democrats and Republicans vote against Medicare for All, which is denying people healthcare DURING A PANDEMIC? 14.5 million have been reported to have lost their healthcare thanks to Covid. People won’t forget that, obviously. Someone on Twitter made this really good point. If flooring a Medicare For All vote is going to hurt the Left and Medicare for All as a whole, you don’t think that Pelosi, Democrats, and Republicans wouldn’t gladly jump to the idea and floor a vote if it were to hurt the Left? But here’s the reality. Progressives like AOC are more cowardly against the party, than they actually care about fighting for and representing us. We voted you in to stand against the party, not bend the knee out of fear of Mama Bear.

Also, all this talk about organizing, which is being used as a scapegoat to deflect and damage control when it comes to rejecting Jimmy’s idea, does not always work, and half of the time, it fails. You know why? It’s one-sided. You’re fighting with a shield, without a sword, which is Progressives using their power and playing politics. That’s what is. And AOC’s entire notion regarding using leverage for the $15 minimum wage increase is pointless, because it’s already in the Democratic agenda, even though I have my doubts they’ll do it. Yet, IMO, she’s using this argument to deflect and damage control for not wanting to leverage Pelosi for a Medicare for All floor vote.

Since she rejects Jimmy’s plan, you would expect her and her defenders to come up with a better strategy than the one proposed, but, even that, they don’t or even care to do. AOC has no strategy. She won’t do jack like how she and Bernie didn’t do anything during the primaries or in the general. At least, Bernie, right now, is fighting to get us Stimulus checks alongside Josh Hawley. What is AOC doing? Oh yeah, virtue tweeting. Basically, being All-Talk-No-Spine as many of her critics have been pointing out. Now, when is it going to be the right time to use leverage? Martin Luther King Jr. stated this and I quote,

"The Time is Always Right to do what is Right.”

Now, I’ve been thinking for a bit and I actually thought of another strategy to get both a Medicare for All floor vote and Stimulus Checks. And this is my, unless someone thought of it before me without me knowing, strategy, which is also VERY EXTREME: The Elected Progressives in Congress should boycott and threaten renounce their support of the Democrats’ support for Ossoff and Warnock in the Georgia Runoffs, offering to advocate their support for Perdue and Loeffler, unless the Democratic Party and Republican Party agrees to implement Stimulus checks and a Medicare for All floor vote in the House. This would force the party to ACTUALLY listen to us, unless they want to lose more power than they dread and the Senate. Because there’s one thing about the Democratic Party besides being the Republican Party’s bitch, they adore power more than anything else.

Threatening to go and support the Far-Right to force the Center-Right to go Left and do our bidding. That’s how you play politics.

Is it extreme and radical? Yes, but would it work? IMO, Yes, as well. And honestly, who cares if it’s extreme? People need this money and healthcare. That’s all that should matter. Don’t worry about Democratic Smears. These people are out of touch, elitist assholes, who don’t have the political or populist wisdom to come up with strong arguments that would land against this, IMO.

Well, I’m done. Please Like, Comment, and Share, because I really to hear your opinion.

Rei Urameshi, Nerving Off.

#The Nerve Report Post #aoc #jimmy dore #nancy pelosi #Medicare for All #vote #opinion #ro khanna #georgia senate runoffs #left #Twitter

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