the blue swallow

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Anon: Can you please do one where lance is self-doubting and staying up really late and training? Like he gets really sick from not sleeping. Like can’t keep anything down sick. It’s okay if you don’t want to do or you already did this already. Please and thank you!

Anon: Maybe something where Lance is getting berrated (idk why) and Keith comes to his defense like in intensness or something.

A/N: When I started writing this, I didn’t intend for it to be so dark. Hot damn. Deep shit ahead. Also, I’m horrible at pet-names. I tried to write from 3rd person Keith instead of omniscient so here we go ᕕ(ツ)ᕗ

It was a particularly depressing mission.

The Blue Paladin had to make a near-impossible choice. Surrender Voltron, or surrender a resource-heavy planet and all its inhabitants. Death wasn’t mentioned in either scenario, but it was very heavily implied. In the end, Lance made the choice to save Voltron on the basis that they would save many many other planets by defeating Zarkon in the long run.

But that didn’t mean a whole planet’s worth of deaths wasn’t weighing on his soul.

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flickr

Swallow Takeoff by Ray Hennessy
Via Flickr:

one sometimes sees claims in modern literature that “the ancient greeks had no term for the color blue,” but that is misleading. it’s true that ancient greek did not have a generic term for blue as we understand it, but there were many specific terms; these, like other color terms in ancient greek, often assigned more importance to the brightness or darkness of the color than to its hue.

ἀέρινος, aerial; light blue or grey
γλαυκός, gleaming; later, of eyes, blue or grey
καλάινος, turquoise-colored
κυάνεος, dark-blue, glossy, (of the swallow, the deep sea); dark or black
οὐράνιος, heavenly; sky-blue
χαροπότης, bright; light blue; sky blue

anonymous asked:

I'm curious to know what you think about Zuko's character arc, like did you like him betraying Katara and Iroh at the end of Book 2 or did you find it OOC? Did you like how he wanted throughout Book 3, cause to me he looked like a douchebag yelling at Iroh, hiring an assassin etc, really looked like Bryke was trying to make him as bad as possible and pair him up with Mai, to cancel him as a love interest for Katara.

I believe his betrayal of Katara and Iroh at the end of Book 2 was entirely necessary for his character arc. Zuko always showed himself as one who needed to make his own decisions and mistakes before he learned from them. His uncle could preach at him all he wanted, but Zuko only ever recognized Iroh’s truth after he’d pursued a goal to no avail. 

For example, the greatest turning point in Zuko’s story during Book 2 was when he let Appa go. Now, he wasn’t planning to do so. He only released Appa after much urging from Iroh, and Iroh’s explanation of Zuko’s past failings: 

Iroh: So, the Blue Spirit. I wonder who could be behind that mask …
Zuko: [Sighs and takes off the mask.] What are you doing here?
Iroh: I was just about to ask you the same thing. What do you plan to do now that you’ve found the Avatar’s bison? Keep him locked in our new apartment? Should I go put on a pot of tea for him?
Zuko: First I have to get it out of here.
Iroh: And then what!? You never think these things through! [Points at him.] This is exactly what happened when you captured the Avatar at the North Pole! You had him, and then you had nowhere to go!
Zuko: I would have figured something out!
Iroh: [Starts yelling.] No! If his friends hadn’t found you, you would have frozen to death!

Iroh is quick to tell Zuko that his lack of planning will ultimately lead to his downfall. He was never successful in the past because he never thought his schemes through. What did he really hope to accomplish by capturing Appa? What was his end goal? How exactly did he think revealing his identity in the Earth Kingdom’s only stronghold was going to play out? And this was after he went on a date with Jin, after his uncle had found some success in Ba Sing Se, and after Zuko had a taste of what a normal, peaceful life could be if he’d just let his destiny go. 

Zuko: I know my own destiny, Uncle!
Iroh: Is it your own destiny, or is it a destiny someone else has tried to force on you?

He was happy in Ba Sing Se, but largely so, because he had no other choice. His life no longer followed the trajectory he had planned— he couldn’t hunt the Avatar because doing so would mean revealing his location in Ba Sing Se and he couldn’t return home because he couldn’t hunt the Avatar.

Jump back up to Iroh’s last line listed above: Is it a destiny someone else has tried to force on you? That can easily be applied to his hunt for the Avatar, but look how easily can that also be applied to Zuko’s newfound life in Ba Sing Se! His actions — pursuing Appa the second he knew the bison was in the city, even after experiencing peace and success — prove that his life in Ba Sing Se was another destiny being forced on him. 

Now, I know you may be arguing in your head that Zuko’s metamorphosis proves that he had changed— but I don’t think so. I think Zuko’s metamorphosis proved he hadn’t, foreshadowed by this exchange: 

Zuko: Stop it, Uncle! I have to do this!
Iroh: I’m begging you, Prince Zuko! It’s time for you to look inward and begin asking yourself the big questions. Who are you, and what do you want?

His transformation in Book 2 was his wrestling with this question: What do I want? Zuko didn’t know. He had no idea. Everything was conflicting in his head. Did he want the Avatar? Did he want peace? Did he want to go home? Did he want this new life? This is particularly evident in the warring dragons in his dreams: 

Blue dragon: It’s getting late. Are you planning to retire soon, my lord?
Zuko: I’m not tired.
Blue dragon: Relax, Fire Lord Zuko. Just let go. Give in to it. Shut your eyes for a while.
Zuko slowly starts to shut his eyes but widely opens them upon hearing the other dragon.
Red dragon: No, Fire Lord Zuko! Do not listen to the blue dragon. You should get out of here right now. Go! Before it’s too late!
Blue dragon: Sleep now, Fire Lord Zuko.
The dragons disappear, and the room they’re in, as well as the guards watching Zuko, crumble to nothing. The blue dragon reappears in front of him. Two golden eyes appear, followed by the face of the blue dragon, which closes rapidly.
Blue dragon: Sleep. Just like mother!
Charges at Zuko and opens its mouth. Inside the dragon’s mouth, Zuko sees his mother, Ursa. Within that darkness, the camera draws closer to Ursa, who drops her hood.
Ursa: Zuko! Help me! 
Zuko disappears through the floor.

Later when Zuko awakens:

Zuko: What’s happening?
Iroh: Your critical decision. What you did beneath that lake. It was in such conflict with your image of yourself that you are now at war within your own mind and body.
Zuko: What’s that mean? 
Iroh: You are going through a metamorphosis, my nephew. It will not be a pleasant experience, but when you come out of it, you will be the beautiful prince you were always meant to be.

I think a lot of viewers take Iroh’s final comment as the end all and be all sign that Zuko was supposed to fully transform here and join the Avatar’s side, however, I do not believe this is the case. I believe Iroh’s comment wasn’t exactly wrong… it’s just interpreted incorrectly. Zuko did change when he woke from his coma: He didn’t change sides or soften or discern all of Azula’s lies, but as became evident in Book 3, Zuko woke from his coma and was able to finally recognize the truth in Iroh’s words

Let’s delve into the imagery of the metamorphosis… not only is he plagued by weird visions such as taking on Aang’s body, the dragons in Zuko’s dreams symbolize the two dueling sides of him. One part of him wants to enjoy the life he’s found in Ba Sing Se, evidenced by the red dragon warning him to get away from the influence of the blue dragon— 

[SIDE NOTE: Zuko may know that Azula always lies… but he always seems to fall for it i.e. that time she said father wanted him home. that time she said he’d be welcomed home. that time she gave him credit for killing Aang as a favor. that time she said the Agni Kai would be one-on-one]

—while the blue dragon represents his desires lying in the Fire Nation. He nearly succumbs to the blue dragon’s suggestion that he sleep, until the red dragon appears and warns him off. However, in the end, Zuko is charged by the blue dragon: He is swallowed by the blue dragon, and in the blue dragon’s mouth, Zuko sees his mother (representing his long-lost childhood desires— to protect those in need and be gentle/kind/innocent) calling for help, before sinking into the floor. 

What does this mean? Well, I believe it means that Zuko gave in to the blue dragon, and it was meant to foreshadow him giving in to Azula’s seduction in the Crystal Catacombs, rather than foreshadowing him saving sides. It also foreshadowed his recognition of his mistake and his distraught emotional state following his choice to betray the red dragon (Iroh (and Katara)). 

Again, to break it down even more so: 

Zuko wants to give in to the Blue Dragon’s request to sleep. 
In the real world, Zuko falls prey to Azula’s bait, challenging her to an Agni Kai and being imprisoned. 

Zuko is warned by the Red Dragon of his choices. 
In the real world, Iroh pleads with Zuko not to listen to Azula. Twice, actually. Once when Iroh flees the palace and Zuko says he’s done running, and again, below the city, when Iroh pleads with Zuko to make the decision he knows is right.

Zuko is swallowed whole by the Blue Dragon.
In the real world, Zuko falls into Azula’s scheme. Unbeknownst to him, Azula is using him— she knows she cannot defeat Aang and Katara alone, so she entices him with the promise of being welcomed home a hero. 

Zuko panics over the vision of his mother (innocence), but is ultimately lost to the Blue Dragon.
In the real world, Zuko is completely absorbed in the version of himself he thinks he needs to be. He is angry. He is violent. He is a betrayer. He has lost all connection to the innocence of his childhood and the image of himself that he nearly reconnected with during his metamorphosis. 

Furthermore, being lost to the Blue Dragon symbolized Zuko’s emotional and mental spiral in Book 3. He was incredibly unhappy, even after he sold his soul to come home. He’d lost it all. He had no one to blame but himself but he didn’t want to blame himself— he wanted to blame Iroh for being right all along. Zuko’s behavior towards Iroh was unacceptable, yes, but it was in character when you consider Zuko’s complete and utter implosion and the destruction of his soul in his decision to betray everyone. 

I fully believe the betrayal was Aaron Ehasz’s idea. In my opinion, it was fundamental to Zuko’s character. As long as he had the support and guidance of his uncle, Zuko would never transform on his own. He needed to hit rockbottom. He needed to realign himself with what he wanted, and the only way to do so, was to have everything he wanted and nothing at all at the same time. 

I do not believe it was a ploy by Bryke to destroy Zutara, as the pair came back together in Book 3 and were closer/stronger than ever. 

What Avatar struggled with the most was the timing of Zuko’s arc. Book 3 spent too much time focusing on useless episodes that could have been utilized to showcase Zuko’s actions in the Fire Nation and his resulting decision to leave his place there. His treason could have taken place earlier and, as a result, we could’ve spent more time with the transformed Zuko and the Gaang.

I also think Avatar suffered greatly by cancelling Book 4. If we’d had a chance to see Zuko rule as Fire Lord, I believe his transformation would’ve felt complete. 

anonymous asked:

Omg how about the four times Betty and Jug didn't get caught doing inappropriate *things* and then the one time they did - you can choose by who!

hey anon! I got quite excited when I saw this here! I’m sorry it took so long for me to get around to it and I hope this is something like what you hoped for!

Ps. Part 6 of And Just Like That is coming I promise, but this has been in my asks for a while and demanded my attention haha xx

warning: smut, sin, smut, more sin, and oh did i mention smut?


CLOSE CALLS AND GETTING CAUGHT- 

1. Alice

“Juggie Stop!” Betty squealed through her laughter as her boyfriend’s hands crept up her sides, taking advantage of her ticklishness.

“Sorry Betts, this is my vengeance,” he replied casually with an evil grin, his hands moving under the hem of her shirt mercilessly to make her squirm.

Betty thrashed as she continued to protest in vain through her laughter, too enthralled with his playful side to regret stealing his last fry.

The takeout container lay abandoned on her nightstand as he continued to make her laugh and kick on the bed.

After keeping up his assault for a while longer, Jughead finally relented, stilling his hands.

“Fine, you’re forgiven,” he sighed dramatically, leaning his weight on his forearms as not to crush her form that was now beneath him.

Betty’s giggle died in her throat as she assessed their new positon. Their bodies pressed together, legs tangled, breaths mingling, his strong arms caging her in. She bit a lip, loving the sight of his wild hair-free from the beanie which must have fallen off during their tickle fight- his sharp jaw line and darkening blue eyes.

Jughead swallowed, his Adams apple bobbing with the movement. Unable to resist the stunning vision of her beneath him with messed up blonde tresses fanned out over the pillow, sparkling green eyes and flushed cheeks, he moved his lips down to meet hers in a firey kiss.

Betty wasted no time slipping her tongue between his lips and Jughead groaned as she skilfully entwined it with his. His hands stroked the skin on her rib cage tantalizingly, drawing out a breathy sigh from her.

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Some Things CAN Be Replaced: Part 2, the Finale.

He dreamed of Blue.

Lance was sitting in the hangar where the Blue lion was kept, but instead of a giant metal entity, there was a small cat in his arms.

He grinned as the little grey Alaskan Blue kitten gnawed at his fingers, dazzling blue eyes squinted.

“Hey girl, be gentle.” He chuckled, putting her on her back in his lap and rubbed at her belly. “You like that?”

He was happy here.
Just him and Blue.

Whenever Lance fell asleep in his lion, he shared this dream with the Blue Lion of Voltron.

Just another way he bonded with his lion.
Was it like this for the others?

This was one of the reasons Lance frequently abandoned his room to come sleep here. It was calming.

It was just him and Blue.
Although it was a mind connected dream, tonight’s went a little differently.

Tonight, Blue got up from his lap and ran off. Lance followed of course, surprised.

He didn’t like where it took him.

Matt.

The other boy was bending over to pick blue up and scratch behind her ears, and the cat was adoring it.

No.

“Hey, Blue, come on.” Lance said tentatively. Was this Matt real? Or was Blue just thinking about him?

Lance swallowed, “Blue, come here, beautiful.” He took a few steps forward.

The cat’s head turned, hissing at Lance.
He stood still in his spot, heart racing.

“Blue? It’s just me, Lance, your paladi—”

He reached out to her, hand shaky, but Lance only managed a few inches. Barely grazing her fur.

Blue had swiped at him.
Her claws had met his skin and he scrambled back, staring at the red that started to bead up.

No.

Lance chest tightened, and the tears fell.
He was forced to watch as Matt turned away, carrying his lion and disappearing.

No. This wasn’t happening.

It was the panic that woke him up.
When you’re about to die in a dream but you wake up before it can carry on.

Lance looked around, still inside his lion but it was dark and cold. He felt strange.

Like he didn’t belong.

The blue paladin was quick to exit Blue, too shaken to look back and do anything else but see what the others were doing.

The argument with Matt last night brought him back to the present and his walking slowed.

He regretted what he said, it wasn’t right.
But at the same time, after that dream, Lance couldn’t help but feel angry all over again.

Matt took his lion.
Matt took his spot.

Matt would be the blue paladin.

Lance swallowed back the taste of bile that rose in his throat, and looked up as he heard voices.

There they all were, backs to Lance, and Matt facing them and talking. Oh no.

The blue eyed boys breath hitches and he was about to turn and run when a voice stopped him.

“Lance?” It was Shiro.

He stuck a smile on his face, wincing internally, and turned to face Shiro. “Oh hey guys, I was just—”

“We need to talk to you.”

Lance felt his heart skip a few beats and he almost willed it to have an attack and kill him.

Unfortunately, it didn’t happen.

He bowed his head and nodded, walking in shame over to the team and standing a little off to the side.

All of those states, several pairs of crossed arms. Lance felt like he was under interrogation.

“Matt told us you were upset. Can we help?” Hunk said, sounding worried.

Lance flicked his eyes to Matt, then to his friends. Weren’t they going to scold him?

He chuckled lightly, “Upset? Of course not you guys, I’m fine.” What a lie, and everyone in the room knew it.

Keith spoke up, “Are you having trouble bonding with your lion? Matt said he went in there and you were sleeping in it.”

“He said you looked like you’d been crying and he came to us.” Hunk added in.

Lances eyebrows furrowed, and he stared at Matt. He hadn’t told them about the fight?

What was going on?

“You know it’s okay if you need some help.” Pidge said quietly from her spot near Keith and Hunk.

It finally clicked for the boy.
Matt had no intention to steal his place on this team. If he had, he would have told his friends what really happened between him and Lance.

Lance felt horrible now.

“Thanks you guys. I guess I was upset, you know? Blue wasn’t feeling well and it projected to me. I’m okay now though.”

They seemed to believe it. All of them smiled, nodding. “Alright. We are going to hit the training deck, coming?”

Lance hesitated, but Matt cut in.

“We will meet you guys there. I want to talk to Lance.” He smiled, and waited until they all accepted and walked off.

The blue paladin looked to Matt, “Look, I’m sorry for what I said last night. It wasn’t right, and I didn’t mean it.”

Matt nodded, “I know, and I forgive you. Shiro told me about your bond with the blue lion, and I realized why you were angry with me.”

Lance looked down.

“But, I want you to know I would never take her from you. Based on what Coran and Allura told me, nothing can break a bond between Paladin and Lion when it’s like yours.” He said, keeping a smile.

Lance looked up, tears in his eyes.
“…” Why was this guy such a good person? Why couldn’t he get that image of Matt walking away with his lion out of his head?

“I had a dream last night….” Lance went on explain what he had seen, and the way it had made him feel.

Matt frowned at times, sometimes smiled.
But in the end he was still smile .

“You’ve got a special girl, Lance.” Matt said and offered a kind hand. “And you can be mad if you’d like, but she is yours.”

Lance stared at the hand, then took it and gave it a firm shake. He was smiling through tears.

Matt winked, “Some Things CAN Be replaced, but not a guy like you Lance. Let’s hit the training deck and kick Keith’s ass eh?”

The blue paladin beamed
It was fine.

betsforsythetrash  asked:

Girl I need a pole dancing fic asap 💕💕💕

Hmm, I wonder why I suddenly got so many requests for this fic (this isn’t even all of them jeez). Y’all are sinners. Also I’m not sure if I liked how this one turned out, it’s all a bit she did this he did that, but whatever. I hope you enjoy anyway!
Warning: there is sin ahead, honestly blame the buggies. 


“Cheryl, what the hell?” Veronica exclaimed, casting her gaze around the room with a raised eyebrow. The head bitch herself had rallied the Vixens for an emergency practice, surprising them all by turning on her heel and marching into the smaller weights room off the side of the gym. Everything had been cleared out, all equipment long gone, replaced only by an array of shiny silver poles stretching from floor to ceiling.

“I’ve been doing my research and it appears that this is the best way to turn your abs to fabs in time for the end of season pep rally,” Cheryl stated, gesturing matter-of-factly around her. Betty gulped.

“Pole dancing?” she asked, voice shaking with the rising of her nerves, brows pinching together in concern.

“Pole fitness,” Cheryl clarified, striding over to a pile of booty shorts, even shorter than their regular required uniform (and significantly tighter, Betty noted), with matching sports bras. “Suit up, my River Vixens. You’ve got a lot to learn in the way of sex appeal.”

“V, I don’t think I can…” Betty mumbled in panic, eye darting between the poles and the tiny garments resting atop her open palm. Her other hand gripped at Veronica’s arm, itching to curl into itself. Veronica glanced down at it before meeting Betty’s wide stare.

“B, it’s okay!” she reassured, bringing her hands up to rest on Betty’s shoulders as she tilted her mouth in a comforting smile. “We’re only at practice, it’s just like exercise,” she reasoned. Betty’s heart rate didn’t slow any. Veronica sighed, eyes running over the room as she tried to find the right words. “Okay, think of it this way. This is an aid to becoming stronger, right? Mind and body. It’s gonna make you feel confident and powerful. So think of something that already gets you halfway there.” Mischief glinted in her dark irises. “Maybe… when you’re with a certain dark-haired, brooding, Byron wannabe? I bet you know a few ways to help him raise the flag-”

“Veronica!” Betty screeched, tilting her head to watch the open door, cheeks flushing scarlet as she pulled her hand back from the other girl’s arm like she’d been burned. Veronica grinned devilishly, shrugging her delicate shoulders.

“I’m just saying, Betty. Channel some of that ‘in the moment’ confidence.” Her eyes softened. “It’ll help,” she threw over her shoulder as she turned to go and change. Betty took a breath, releasing the tension from her back as she stretched out her fingers. She could do this.

***

Betty stumbled into the girl’s locker room, muscles she didn’t even know she had aching, red bruises forming between her thighs. Pole, she had quickly learned, was exhausting. Add to that a commanding Cheryl Blossom, on the warpath for perfectly arched backs and streamlined drops, and she wasn’t sure she’d be able to walk for a week.

But Veronica had been right. It did make her feel powerful, in control, even - dare she say it - sexy. It allowed her the kind of freedom she craved when she just let go, without any of the darkness clouded the edges of her vision, pulling her into an unreachable abyss. Betty bit her lip against her smile as she opened her gym locker - she could definitely get used to this feeling. Gripping the cool metal between her fingers, her thighs, back arching as she swung gracefully.

“Want me to wait for you, B?” Veronica asked, coming up behind her. Betty startled at her close voice, ponytail whipping sharply behind her, the dark-haired girl ducking out of the way.

“Wha- Oh, no. I’m supposed to be meeting Jughead to work on the Blue and Gold,” she smiled. Veronica smirked.

“Whatever you say. Enjoy your work,” she said suggestively, flitting out of the locker room with one last coy glance at Betty’s mortified expression. She huffed out a laugh, shaking her head at her friend’s antics as she pulled her clothes out.

The surrounding din quietened down as the last of the Vixens left for the night, leaving Betty alone. She glanced round cautiously, checking there were no prying eyes still, before slipping back into the gym. She couldn’t help herself; she just wanted to lose herself in the sensation for a little bit longer. She stepped gingerly towards the centre pole, clasping it with damp palms. She hooked her right knee around the object, like she’d been taught a few hours before, and pushed her weight off her left foot, propelling herself round.

She caught glimpses of herself in the mirror lining one wall. It didn’t feel like her own reflection staring back at her. She didn’t see pink sweaters and slicked back hair. She saw lean lines, strong muscles, elegant curves. There was a way about her features, her narrowed eyes, her mouth set with firm confidence, that made her blood buzz as she continued to move. She dipped her body, leg coming up in a sharp angle as she let her eyes drift closed for a moment.

“Betty?” Her eyes flew open at the low voice coming from her right. She straightened herself quickly, fingers clutching at the pole as she took in Jughead’s form standing in the doorway. Her cheeks burned.

“Juggie…” she breathed, unable to meet his eyes. “H-how long have you been standing there?” His own cheekbones were already dusted an adorable pink, blue eyes wide. He swallowed around the thickness in his throat, adam’s apple bobbing distinctly.

“Um, not that long, really. Just a while… a f-few minutes, maybe,” he stammered, ashamed of how long he’d stood silently, knowing she hadn’t seen him, while she danced.

He was entranced the moment he’d opened the door. He’d gotten worried, Betty was never usually this late to their meetings, and ventured out find her. He’d heard the music coming from the weights room and curiously pushed open to the door only to find her, twisting her body sensually to the beat now pounding in his ears. Jughead had frozen in place, boots rooted to the spot, unable to look away - not wanting to - even though he knew he was spying. She’d just looked so beautiful he couldn’t help it. His fingers itched with the desire to touch her, a pool of warmth flooding his lower belly and sending sparks southwards. His heart thudded, so loud he was surprised she couldn’t hear it, air getting too hot against his skin.

She appraised him with her usual, wide eyes, snapping back instantly into the Betty he was familiar with. She chewed on her lower lip, fingers playing idly with the elastic on her shorts. She could see the way his pupils had blown wide with lust, with want for her, as he’d been watching. His breath was coming a degree faster than normal, the way it did whenever she’d run her fingers down his chest, her teeth across his collarbone. She was turning him on just by the way she was moving, across the room entirely. The thought simmered beneath her skin, sending a delicious warmth to the apex of her thighs.

Before Betty could stop herself she was moving to grab one of the chairs stacked against the wall, placing it a few feet away from the pole she was previously using. She grabbed Jughead’s hand, his palm reassuring in hers, and dragged him over, pushing on his shoulders to get him to sit. He gazed up at her questioningly, eyebrows knit in confusion. She simply smiled, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to his soft cheek.

“Just watch,” she murmured against his heated skin. He nodded, dumbfound, not quite sure what he was agreeing to but knowing he didn’t want to say no. In the moment confidence, Veronica had said. The fluttering nervousness in her chest was blooming into something new, a need to have Jughead’s eager eyes on her as she danced, wanting him to see her whilst she reached this new high.

Betty took a breath, feeling the beat vibrating up through her legs. Her hand came up to her ponytail, pulling the band out and tossing it away, letting her honey waves free around her shoulders. Jughead shifted in her peripheries, hands coming to rest on his knees, waiting for the performance to begin.

She walked round the pole, each step measured and calculated, one hand running delicately over the metal. Every so often she chanced a glance at Jughead from beneath her lashes, finding his eyes glued to her frame. This dance wasn’t like the others from practice. Betty swung her hips back and forth, sweeping her hair over her shoulders with a flick of her head, adding a whole new layer of sensuality to her steps. She spun, enjoying the slight breeze across her warm skin that the movement caused, pulling her lower lip between her teeth as she arched her neck. Jughead cleared his throat shuffling in his chair as his fingers clutched aimlessly at the denim covering his knees. It was so apparent what she was doing to him, his tongue coming out to wet his suddenly dry lips.

Betty turned to face him, hands clasped above her head as she slowly started to slide her back down the pole, never once taking her darkened eyes from his. She reached the ground, a surge of confidence igniting a fire throughout her body as she caught sight of the prominent bulge between his shifting thighs, parting her knees and spreading her legs in a move that definitely wasn’t a part of Cheryl’s earlier routine.

“Betts…” Her name fell, slightly strangled, from his parted lips. She stood slowly, stalking towards him with a glint in her eye, like a predator seeking its prey. Her hands braced themselves on his shoulders as she swung her leg over his thighs, settling down over his lap. There was a delicious ache forming between her overworked thighs as she fought to keep her eyes from rolling back into her head. Jughead’s eyelids fluttered as they both let out perfectly synchronised moans at the long awaited pressure, but he was determined to take in every second of this moment, of Betty free of restriction before him. She grasped his wrists, placing his desperate hands on the small of her waist. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he whispered, voice hoarse. She giggled, the sound causing his own lips to lift in a smile.

“I think I do,” she muttered, circling her hips purposefully. Jughead groaned, bucking up involuntarily at the sensation. Betty paused, lifting her weight slightly from him. “You have to stay still. This is my show,” she teased, raising a challenging eyebrow. He nodded, not trusting his voice. She dropped herself down again, continuing the torturous roll of her hips, arms locked around his neck.

She swayed gently, her scent completely overwhelming Jughead’s senses. Her firm breasts were at his eye level, heaving slightly before his face. Blue eyes followed the bead of sweat, from her earlier exertion, that rolled down her collarbone and disappeared into the valley of her cleavage, wanting to chase it with his tongue. His fingers crept up her side, cupping the underside of her breast gently. All movement ceased as she threw him a threatening look, shivers rolling down Jughead’s spine, pushing the wandering hand firmly back to her waist. Betty moved her lips to his ear, warm breath making him shudder.

“Having trouble following the rules, Jug?” she whispered, unable to stop the grin from spreading across her face as she felt his fingers flex against her skin, head tilting to allow her more access to his neck. A low groan caught in his chest as she gave a pointed swivel of her hips. He blew out an uneven breath as she trailed her lips down his flushed skin, movements unrelenting now, mouth resting over his pounding pulse point. She latched her lips over the spot and sucked, small mewl vibrating against him as she felt the responding twitch in his pants directly beneath her sensitive core.

Betty pulled back, satisfied with the purple bruise she’d left amongst the fading others already littered across his pale skin. She knew that the uncontrolled grip he had against her delicate flesh would leave lingering fingerprints for her to run her hands over affectionately later, remembering the effect she had on him.

Jughead’s breathing hitched as she dropped her forehead to his, their breaths mixing, panting into each other, as she lay her open mouth over his. Her movements were speeding up, the coil in the pit of Jughead’s stomach tightening as his vision started to blur. Betty bent closer, catching Jughead’s chapped lower lip between her teeth and pulling gently.

It didn’t take much more, every last nerve Jughead had now frayed and oversensitive because of the woman in his lap, heat of her core radiating through his pants. With one last twist of her hips he couldn’t hold back any longer, loud groan tearing itself from his chest, hips bucking upwards, stuttering, as he came, pulsing beneath her.

Betty slowed her movements, revelling in the way he twitched and grunted beneath her as she coaxed him through his release, overly stimulated and exhausted. He finally opened his eyes, fingers coming to cup her cheek, looking up at her in awe. He pulled her down, placing a sweet, gentle kiss to her bitten lips.

“I never knew I could like gym so much,” he joked against her lips, Betty dropping her head to the crook of his neck with an exuberant laugh.

“Or that you’d have a reason to thank Cheryl Blossom,” she murmured with an amused smile, tucking herself closer into his embrace.

anonymous asked:

Could you please write a scenario on Guzma getting his girl an alolan vulpix because she's always wanted one but Mount Lanakila is too rough for her to get one herself? Could you possibly make it sweet and no daddy stuff pretty please.

You were too sick to leave the house. You were not going hunting on a wild goose chase for a damn fox Pokémon when you were sick with an upper respiratory infection. Not if Guzma couldn’t help it.

“But I want one.” You whined, refusing a mouthful of soup. Guzma did not relent and instead tried feeding it to you again.

“You don’t need no stinkin’ Vulpix!” Guzma insisted. “Why do ya even want it for?”

You shrugged, coughing slightly but this time swallowing your soup and managing to take a little more.

“Just want one…” you said. Guzma had already begun fussing around your room, taking a bit of the vapor rub from your nightstand and slathering it all over your chest. He grumbled under his breath a bit, complaining about your stubborn nature and the fact that your room was too cold for you.

“Take your meds and don’ think ‘bout it no more.” He commanded, handing you two little blue pills that you swallowed obediently with water. “You ain’t goin’ anywhere ‘till you get well, and even then I ain’t lettin’ you go up there to fuck around in the cold wearing shorts again.”

“But Guzma…” you whined.

“Go to sleep!”

You obeyed grudgingly, turning over on your side and pulling the covers over your head while your big mean boyfriend closed the door and stomped back into the kitchen with your soup bowl. You thought about how unfair it was that he wouldn’t let you go out and get a pokemon simply because it was cute. He went looking for Wimpod in board shorts all the time, how come you couldn’t go to Mount Lanakila without a jacket? It didn’t make any damn sense, and as you grumbled and moaned about not having a pretty little Vulpix with supple white fur and blue eyes the day passed into night and you eventually fell into a deep sleep.

In the middle of a dream in which Guzma had been it, you felt a hunk of ice press against your cheek accompanied by a small snuffing sound. You shook your head, trying to move it away. It remained persistent, snuffing your cheeks, eyes and the inside of your ear before an equally cold moist thing began lapping on your nose. When you opened your eyes, two blue orbs with splotches of milky white greeted you in the dim light of the lamp, along with a black button nose that looked like a piece of coal. Six tails switched to and fro, and once you were fully awake enough to reach out a hand and pet the silky white fur the little creature began to bark softly.

“Vul!” it cried, licking your forehead with its icy tongue.

“Pretty…” you murmured, a little tear wetting your cheek as Vulpix gave you her fox kisses. Guzma came into view from the side, smiling over you in his pajamas while your new Vulpix barked excitedly.

“Gotcha a new lil’ baby to help ya get better.” He said gently. “When I took her outta the ball she started kissin’ on you ‘cause your forehead’s so hot. Named her Popsicle.”

Popsicle barked again, nuzzling and sniffing you with her cold little nose. She seemed to sense that your sickness was in full stride, and when you coughed and moaned a little bit she whined, sitting next to your head and laying her chin in your hair. She felt like silk left in a freezer for far too long, even her fur had little patches of ice that crackled when she moved.

Guzma leaned over and accepted your grateful kiss. You could do nothing except feel gratitude when you looked at Guzma, then marvel at your new little baby Pokémon while she lay close by trying to help your fever go down.

“Thank you.” You murmured to Guzma when he snuggled into bed next to you and wrapped an arm around your waist. Vulpix kissed you again and again, her little kisses leaving teeny ice patches in your hair.