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hoshigray · 5 days

Note

HOSHII MY LOVE this is gonna be my first ever request to you 😕 i usually refrain bc i get shy but im so touch deprived rn i NEED YOU TO (only if u want to no pressure pookie) MAKE A LIL MAKEOUT DRABBLE with literally any character plsplspls its carnal atp i love u

-🍓

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: the way i wanted to make this a multi-post, but i've been thinkng this exact scenario w/ toji for the past week, it needs to get out of my head!! i appreciate you entrusting you're first req w/ me awwww ;w;

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Toji x afab/fem! reader - suggestive content; minors DNI - kissing/making out - dry humping/grinding - thigh riding - fluff yet...suggestive - grinding - thigh riding - fingering (f! receiving) - pet names (angel, baby, princess, sweetie) - Toji and you being touch starved - implied reader is toji's partner who looks after Tsumiki and Megumi (yes, I'm feeling soft, shut up) - mention of spit.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1k

After swaddling Megumi to sleep, you slowly put him in his cradle. The year-old baby snores silently as he leaves your arms’ warmth and lies in the comforting chill of the sheets. You then move silently to tuck in Tsumiki, the toddler sleeping in her tiny bed. You kiss her forehead gently, making her smile unconsciously. After saying a hushed goodnight, you close the door.

The plan was to stay until the kids fell asleep, stopping by your boyfriend's place for a night since it's been a little while since you last saw each other. Work’s been keeping you away for a minute, and stopping by at his apartment was needed to happen before you crash out from stress. And seeing the little ones’ faces was the cherry on top, their wholesome beaming faces instantly fueling your social battery.

After silently walking out of the hall, you enter the living room, where your boyfriend stands by the chair with your bag. You smile pleasantly, teetering your way to him. And he, Toji, smirks at you, straightening a bit when you’re close enough. “Gotta go,” you say with a whisper. “Better catch some sleep before heading back to the office tomorrow. Megumi should be out till morning, so you should sleep easy tonight.”

“Thank Christ,” he makes you giggle, hushed not to wake the children.

The silence pushes you to look at him, your heart skipping at his forest green orbs already latched onto your frame. You cough faintly before grabbing for your purse. “Need anything before I go?”

A hand grabs your wrist to pull, and Toji impersonates thinking to himself while his hands snake to your waist to draw you closer. You roll your eyes – knowing what game he’s playing – but the smile on your face doesn’t falter. He then says, “Mmm, only one thing comes to mind.”

“And what would that be?” You quirk a brow, but your expression changes once he brings his face inches closer.

“I’m still waiting’ fr’ my kiss.” His gruff tone is dialed down, but his words affect a warmth to coarse through your chest.

It’s hard to say no when Toji’s nose brushes yours, lips hovering over yours, and your eyelids closing on their own. How long has it been since you’ve been close to him like this? You can’t even remember, work corrupting you for so long that this moment feels a little surreal.

“Hmm?” He teases you with a kiss on your cheek, and you shiver at the contact. “A guy can’t get a goodnight kiss before seein’ his baby off?”

You bastard… Holding back is futile when he kisses the corner of your lips, your hands cup his face, and bring him to your lips properly. He groans, the both of you sighing as your hands wrap around his neck.

You break the kiss, knowing it isn’t sufficient for you both. Toji licks your bottom lip, and you whimper as he kisses you again, a soft noise resulting from the withdrawal. “Toji—Mmm,” scarred lips claim yours once more, this time with more hunger. “I have to go…”

Your words aren’t acknowledged, not when he chews on your bottom lip — a signal for more access. Fuck, your resolve dwindles with the insertion of his tongue, almost going weak in the knees. But before that, Toji smoothly picks you up, and the sudden shift has you yelp.

“Stay with me,” Holy shit, the way he was looking at you caused your stomach to do flips. So entranced that you don’t realize he is walking to the couch to place you down on your back, crawling above you. “I missed you. Just tonight, sweetie.”

Liar, you know he wants you here for more precisely because that’s what you wish. But, “I…I can’t, I have to go—Mmmph…!”He slammed his mouth to yours again, nibbling on your lip until his tongue was let back inside your mouth. You moan, his leg propped in between yours, bumping his knee to your groin, which has you screaming silently. “Ahhnn! Toji, not there!”

“Shhh, relax, angel,” he coos, using a hand to massage your skull affectionately. He moves his knee, and you’re practically grinding on his thigh with a chewed lip.

“I can’t stay,” you’re hushed by his lips again, and your hips move on their own. “I have to go…Ohhh.”

“You say that, but look who’s ridin’ my thigh.” His chortle is low, and your stomach does knots. Toji moves your legs so he can be nestled between them, and kissing your neck melts you under him. “C’mon, princess, ya know I can’t let you go like this.”

Your brows scrunch together at him sucking your skin, legs coming around his waist as you hump into him. Toji does the same, rocking his hips to you perilously, the groin of his sweats grinding onto your bottoms, covering your throbbing chasm. God, it felt too good to stop now, your hands roaming inside his white wifebeater to purchase.

He kisses you again, spit covering your soft lips, and you whine as he teases and sucks on your tongue; your breath hitches while his free hand slithers down inside your bottoms, and a shaky shriek is prompted by his fingers pushing into your panties.

“That’s right,” he coaxes you between pecks, loving the way your hands scratch on him. “Gonna treat ya right t’night, angel—”

However, the fun stops once you two hear the sound of a door crying, sniffling, and cries getting louder as they approach closer. It was Tsumiki, the poor girl shedding tears through her drowsy state.

“Miki?” You call to the toddler; Toji quietly moves off you so the little brunette can come running into your arms. “Can’t sleep, sweetie?” She nods and burrows her face into your chest. You kiss her temple, “Must’ve been a nightmare.”

Her father hums and ruffles his daughter’s hair, chuckling when she swats his hand away. Toji then leans to your ear, “I’ll get the bed ready.” A mild glare meets a naughty grin before he gets up to his bedroom, leaving you on the couch to soothe the crying child back to sleep.

So much for sleeping easy tonight…

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impishjesters · 7 months

Text

Agents of Cat-astrophe

warning(s): none unless you count Jax note(s): This gave me a good chuckle as someone who's consistently dropping more curse words than regular words, I'd imagine the system to just censor anything and everything that comes out of my mouth at that point. A/N: (In response to the requester) I wish I was taking breaks (I mean I am sorta), I'm fully aware I'm running myself ragged right now. But it's hard for me to stop myself... I'm caffeinated and chaotic and I don't wanna stew in my brain for too long. At least I get up and stretch every now and then. Request: Anyways, I’m requesting a Jax x reader (crushing stage) where the reader is sorta at the same level of meanness as Jax and likes to do pranks with him on the other characters. Also the reader’s digital form is a short cat that at first glance makes them look nice/friendly (obviously not an actual cat but yk what I mean), and they have a sailor’s mouth that is unfortunately censored but that doesn’t stop them (can also purr and does so when they’re content which is usually when there chilling in Jax’s room or with Jax in general). I think it would be fun if the reader surprisingly was sorta nicer to Kinger and has a small soft spot for him and does more playful pranks on him than mean/harmful ones.

When you first showed up, you looked so small and frail, like a literal little kitten completely out of place in this big colourful nightmare world

Ragatha thought you’d be like Pomni, and boy howdy was she wrong

You just ended up being another Jax—who you later met and found out was also an agent of chaos

Similarly to Pomni you cursed up a storm when you first arrived and the endless censorship that came with it

You have a knack for testing Caine’s patience when it comes to your sailor’s mouth, much to Jax’s entertainment. It’s not every day Caine loses his cool like that and you’re just a newbie, needless to say, you caught his interest

That sailor’s mouth also gets used towards the other’s and Jax won’t lie and say it’s not funny because shit’s hilarious.

Sure they all curse from time to time, but you just laid out an entire sentence that was completely and utterly censored. Like the system said “fuck this I’m gonna censor the whole damn sentence”

Unlike Jax who doesn’t show any remorse for who he pranks or how cruel they are, you draw the line at messing with Kinger.

Okay, that’s a lie you still mess with him but it’s not like how you mess with the others. Kinger has this sweet unstable dad/grandpa vibe and it kind of makes the place more homey in a weird way. (plus that man has been through enough trauma, give him a break, and talk about his bug collections or some shit)

The upside is that his mind is so scattered sometimes that using the same pranks on him always results in something hilarious. So you really don’t need to try for any new material. (he also really needs to consider actually using the lock on his door, he makes it too easy)

Jax considered you his little partner in crime the more time passed—not exactly a friend nah, but like a good ol pal that also likes to partake in joining him and his bullshittery

The first time he hears you purring is when the two of you are lazing about in his room, he’d gotten distracted collecting things for a prank on someone and heard the loudest rumbling coming from behind him

“Are you fucking purring?”

It’s a little embarrassing at first, you’ve uh, never done that before..

Jax has the biggest shit-eating grin, if he wasn’t using dumb cat-themed nicknames before he sure as hell is now

“Oh, like you don’t stomp your feet like a petulant child you overgrown rabbit.”

He does not stomp his fuckin feet like a temperamental rabbit, thank you very much (that’s a fuckin lie if I ever heard one)

Jax already had mixed feelings about you before, nothing particularly bad, just feelings he couldn’t place…that was until the prank…

He doesn’t know how you did it, or how he got so wrapped up in it. But you pranked him, and you pranked him good.

Oh, oh okay that feeling is new… butterflies don’t typically belong inside your gut, now whether Jax has ever experienced a crush before or not is probably beyond him. But these little butterflies are a bitch and it takes awhile of placing two and two together to realize he’s… caught feelings to some degree

You, however, probably had a crush on him for a while, perhaps really noticing it after the whole purring fiasco when you learned that it only happened around Jax

#the amazing digital circus x reader #tadc jax #the amazing digital circus #jax x reader #jax #tadc

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theitgirlnetwork · 6 days

Text

Earn It

Ch. 4: Perfect

Baby Pics:

Birthday Looks:

Note: Okay, the love this story is getting is insane! I appreciate it so much because I love these characters and hearing what you all think. Thank you for the reblogs, notes, likes, comments and messages, I love hearing your feedback and all of the interaction. Apparently this obsession isn't going away anytime soon so I should update frequently. Also, I feel like Long Way 2 Go by Cassie is the perfect song to describe where Art and Heaven are right now. And Boyfriend by Dove Cameron gives me Heaven and Tashi. Best Friend by Rex Orange County reminds me of Heaven and Patrick right now. Let me know if you guys want me to keep giving song recs. There is a trigger warning in this one, pretty mild mention of eating disorders. I hope you all enjoy this chapter and let me know what you think. Thanks for reading! MDNI! Love y'all <3

Warnings: Mild sexual content, mild eating disorder, strong language.

Taglist: @spookystitchery @anehkael @fkaams @butterflyybabe @sun2flower @holierthancunt @silkenthusiasts @wolflover384 @liziihorta @summerssover @jackierose902109

“It’s supposed to be right up here, on the left.” Art instructs, pointing to try and guide Patrick along the cobblestone road to the large black metal gates. “Are you…left not right.”

“Okay! Well, you said both so-”

“Yeah, right up here on the left.” Art laughs, shaking his head and resting his forearm on the hot leather under the window on the passenger side.

“Would you chill out? It’s…we’re not even that late. Plus, I’m not especially excited to be meeting two sets of parents today.” Patrick drums his fingers on the steering wheel, leisurely turning onto the road and pulling up to the gate.

Art scoffs, looking at his friend out of the side of his eye. “I guess I’m not under the same pressure as you.”

Silence falls over the car as they wait for the man at the gate to place a guest sticker on the windshield of Patrick’s car. The brown haired man sits with a wry smirk, staring forward while willing himself not to glance at his friend. He was happy that overall, things haven’t changed between him and Art despite the fact that they were no longer going to school together and his sweet, sweet best friend is clearly desperately into one if not both of his girlfriends.

To be honest, it was nice to see Art want something. He’s always been a, you get what you get and don’t have a fit type of kid. The kind of guy who agreed to race Patrick to the dorms when they were kids and slowed to a jog at the first sight of Patrick pulling forward slightly. But this time things were different. He wasn’t stupid. He could see the looks. He could hear the little snarky remarks Art hides behind his easy smiles and feel the pats on the back that are suddenly leaving behind a little sting.

But he was also still his best friend Art Donaldson. The guy he taught to jerk off. The friend he shares everything with. The best partner he’s ever had. Maybe that’s why he thinks he’s okay with how he looks at them. It’s interesting to watch these two women they met draw out a side of his friend that he could never. That doesn’t mean he’ll let him have them, though.

Which is why, he made sure to take the weekend off of his tour, to the coordinator’s outrage, to attend Tashi and Heaven’s joint birthday party back in their hometown.

People used to say that Patrick and Art were crazy close, but Tashi and Heaven were on another level. Apparently, the two were born a couple hours apart. Tashi on the night of September 15th and Heaven the morning September 16th. So here they were, driving to Heaven’s big ass house for their birthday party.

They pull up to the imposing home, and see various balloons and streamers. Next to the columns bracketing the stairs are two blown up pictures, the one on the right is clearly a baby picture of Tashi posing cutely with her hand out. The left is of a little Heaven, smiling hard with little pigtails on the side of her head.

Art hangs back a little as Patrick argues with the valet who is apparently parking the guests' cars, demanding he treat his truck with kindness. The blond man smiles softly at the picture of young Heaven and discreetly snaps a photo, sending her a text.

8:30 p.m.: Oh god, burn that shit. We’re out back. Tashi’s gonna come get you guys.

He laughs to himself and glances over to see Patrick reluctantly handing his keys over to the clearly annoyed valet.

He had been worried he and Heaven were gonna stop talking after he basically begged to finger fuck her and eat her out over the phone. There was an awkward lack of calls and messages for a few days and he grit his teeth and gave her space. But when he was sitting in the cafeteria with Tashi, she mentioned that Heaven’s first rehearsal was later in the afternoon and he couldn’t help himself. A quick message telling her he thinks she’ll do amazing revived the conversation between the two.

The large dark wooden door swings open and reveals Tashi in all her glory. She has her hair pinned up to look shorter and curled. She’s wearing a tight white shirt with light washed baggy jeans and golden hoop earrings. She looks great. A bright smile fills her face as she sees them, jogging halfway down the steps before tugging Art into a hug. “Hey, you guys made it.” she pulls away from him and Patrick steps forward giving her a kiss on the lips. Art doesn’t bother looking away and is surprised by how little the action bothers him. “You’re late. Heaven’s in the back with everyone else.”

Patrick rolls his eyes with a scoff to Art but otherwise lets the girl drag him along, Art following behind. The house looks even grander inside. Marble floors, long wooden tables with floral arrangements. A balloon arch leading into the backyard area.

Tashi moves about the place like she owns it, like she does with most rooms. But it was something about knowing she and Heaven had grown up spending time here together that made the men curious.

She steps out into the grass and smiles brightly at a group of girls that neither man recognizes, waving hi and accepting the ‘happy birthdays’ like a fucking celebrity. Music booms through several speakers and crowds of people stand in the grassy space. The gift table is filled with presents, split down the middle, one side labeled Tashi, the other Heaven.

“Tashi come dance with me.”

And there she was. Her silky dark hair is down and curled with a colorful scarf wrapped at the top. She was also wearing large gold hoops with a tight, white crop top and baggy jeans. So baggy that Patrick and Art got a clear shot of her underwear peeking through. She’s standing on the edge of the crowd with her hand outstretched for Tashi to take.

“Damn.”

“Fuck.”

Tashi smirks as the pair of men drool over Heaven, pushing from in between them and going to take her hand. “One second. You’ve got to say hi. The world’s worst boyfriend and friend are finally here.”

“Hmm,” Heaven hums, wrapping her arm around Tashi and resting their intertwined fingers on her hip. “Late, aren’t we?”

“Uh, there was traffic-”

“He said we didn’t need to leave so early-”

Patrick and Art look at each other briefly before back at the girls.

“Hm.”

Tashi shrugs, pulling Heaven along with her to the drinks table, ignoring the fact that Art and Patrick were tailing behind. “Did you invite my cousin Vivian? She's over there boring my hitting partner to death.”

“No,” Heaven snorts, grabs a solo cup, putting it between her teeth as she reads the different punch flavors they had in supply. “She’s a bitch, it was probably your mom, or mine-”

“Cousin Vivian, she’s the one who-” Art begins.

“Tried to drown me at Great Wolf Lodge? Yeah, fucking lunatic. I can believe you remember that story, I told you that while you were half asleep.”

“I told you I was listening, it’s fucking wild.” Art laughs.

“I don’t know it.” Patrick cuts in, eyeing the exchange with a smile.

Heaven shrugs, passing the first cup of punch she poured to Tashi and grabbing another. “Oh, baby, the story is dorky and boring.”

“Yeah and speak of the devil and she shall appear.” Tashi chuckles, bringing the drink to her lips.

Patrick reaches into his back pocket, glancing around before producing a flask, waving it between them. “Should we, uh, make these drinks more interesting?”

Tashi’s face immediately drops and Heaven rolls her eyes, kicking Art in the shin lightly underneath the lawn table, nodding her head in Tashi and Patrick’s direction.

“We have matches coming up. No alcohol.”

“You’re going against college kids, you’re gonna win regardless of whether you have a drop of tequila.”

“Yeah, that’s not the point. And Heaven’s in rehearsals-”

“Heaven is a big girl-”

“Heaven, what do you want to drink?” Art pipes up, grabbing a solo cup himself and walking around the end of the table Heaven is on.

She clasps her hands together, glancing at the first jug she sees and decides on that. “Just, some lemonade would be great.”

“Okay.” Art smiles, starting to pour.

“I know Heaven is in rehearsals. But it’s her fucking birthday.”

Heaven’s eyes widen at that, immediately shooting to Tashi’s face. Her scowl is set in stone as she leans down into Patrick’s face. Her grumble of “You think I don’t know that?” drowns out Heaven’s correction of “Our birthday.”

A second barely passes before Tashi is flipping her hair over her shoulder and storming off in another direction. Patrick scoffs, as if he didn’t already take a step forward to follow her, being propelled even further by Heaven’s mouthing of “fix it”.

Art sips his own lemonade, looking to the ground and shaking his head.

“I don’t want to hear it. Seriously.”

“I wasn’t gonna say a damn thing.” He laughs, ignoring Heaven’s small fist colliding with his muscled arm. He bites back a smirk when she winces, pulling her hand back to herself. “Did you…hurt your hand?”

“Could you like, shut the fuck up? Thank you.” Heaven whines, rubbing the wounded hand with the other. “You think you’re all big and bad because college tennis is doing you good? Giving your scrawny ass some muscle.”

“Glad you noticed.” he says playfully.

Heaven opens her mouth to respond, her lips part and no words come out as she drops her gaze to the ground, taking a swig of the lemonade. Two women step out of the backyard doors and make their way over to the pair, dressed in workout clothes. One of them is a black woman that could only be Heaven’s mom. She looked exactly like what Art envisions Heaven will look like in about 20 years and if you asked Art the future is fucking bright.

The other is an older white woman with a kind face and eyes that reminded him of Tashi. They looked like extremely unlikely friends. Heaven’s mom holds a stern face that makes Art feel like maybe he should take several steps away from her daughter right now while the other woman looks like she’d probably made the sugar cookies that people have been shoveling since he’d gotten there.

Despite having spoken about her family, Art knows very little about Heaven's mother. All she ever mentions about the woman is that she's very invested in her dance career and has always been pretty strict. Beyond that, whenever Heaven recounts pleasant memories from her childhood with Art, they always involved her stepdad, Tashi and her family, or when she was performing. Her mom is notably absent from almost all of her stories.

Heaven’s mother lowers the dark shades rested on her face to get a good look at Art before pushing them back into place, letting go of the other woman and wrapping her arm around Heaven’s shoulders.

“Hi, mom.” Heaven smiles in a way that doesn’t quite reach her eyes, placing the cup Art poured her down on the table.

Her mother picks the cup and sniffs it before putting it back down. “Let this be the last drink you have that isn’t water, Hev. I think we’ve had enough calorie intake for the day, we don’t need you slow when you go back to rehearsals this week.”

Art’s brows furrow as he watches Heaven deflating, nodding quietly as her mom pats her stomach and talks about not eating any birthday cake on her birthday. He can’t envision anyone finding her to be anything other than beautiful, dancing or not. But he rolls his tongue in his cheek and stays silent. Maybe her mother knows something about her health that he doesn’t.

But from Heaven’s face with the verbal lashing is over, that’s not the case. Heaven’s sad brown eyes land on Art’s and she remembers that her mom hadn’t even taken the time to introduce herself. “Mom, this is Art Donaldson. He plays tennis for Stanford.”

The inspection is on him now. Heaven’s mom scans him from top to bottom before fixing him with an unimpressed look. “Is he any good?”

“Oh, I’m…I’m pretty okay-” Art says nonchalantly, cheek dimpling with an easy smile. Heaven’s mom simply blinks at him before shifting her gaze to Heaven.

“He’s great, Mom, full tennis scholarship.” She tries. “And…Tashi says he’s really good too.”

“Well, good for you.” The older woman says, nodding at her friend waving her over. “We’re going to give you kids some space and have a late dinner over at the Duncan’s house. Nothing but fruit and water, Hev.”

Heaven just dumps the lemonade into the grass, and refills the cup with water. Art watches as her mother murmurs a patronizing ‘good girl’ into Heaven’s hair, pressing a kiss there before slinging her purse over her shoulder and power walking away.

He searches his brain for something, anything to say that might make her feel better as she tugs her crop down a little in an attempt to cover up as her eyes follow her mother.

Heaven’s face is hot with embarrassment. She was used to her mother’s comments about her weight, her looks, her focus on dance. She knows that it's for a reason. She wants her to be the best dancer she can be and so she prioritizes that over all else. She’d given up her life to put Heaven in the best position possible to become a prima ballerina. Heaven is…grateful. She should be grateful. But it’s pressure. She’s doing what she loves, but it's never enough, there’s always weight to lose. She can always be stronger, faster, and work harder. And her skin could always be thicker. But even diamonds crack with the right amount of pressure.

Heaven just hates when people are there to see it.

Tashi is fucking pissed. Her hitting partner was sick and she needed to practice for a tournament coming up, so she’d asked Heaven to fill in. She couldn’t count how many times she’s sat up with Heaven, watching her dance, standing in as a partner, plotting what dance she should master for which audition. She doesn’t ask for much else in return. So, the fact that the bitch failed to show up at the courts knowing what this meant to Tashi…

She’d better have a good fucking excuse.

The tennis player storms around the back of the house, not bothering with the front door and streamlining for the stone elephant statue that kept the spare key to the back door to the house, Tashi snatches the key out of the trunk hole and pushes her way in.

Mrs. Whitlock’s car wasn’t in the driveway so she doesn’t bother stopping by the woman’s office to say hello, opting instead to stomp her way straight to Heaven’s studio. She pushes the sliding door open and prepares to tear Heaven a new one, her bag clutched tightly in her fist. She can hear her inside. She knew she’d be here. She probably found some kind of new dance she just had to learn. Or she’d forgotten her while daydreaming. Or she was late.

Tashi fucking hates late people.

“So, it’s fuck me huh?” Tashi asks, crossing her arms as she leans in the doorway. She was right, Heaven was inside. Facing away from her, standing in front of the large mirrors, something white at her feet. When the girl doesn’t even acknowledge that she’s there, Tashi rolls her eyes and steps into the room. “Fuck you, Heaven.”

She fully plans to whirl around and stomp her way out of the house. If she wants to forget her, ignore her, fine. Plenty of people would fucking love to be Tashi Duncan’s girlfriend.

But then she sees that the floor is soaking wet. Heaven’s bun is curling up from the water. The girl is drenched, standing in a pink leotard, her shoulders shaking. “Heaven?” Tashi powers forward, grabbing a wet shoulder, not letting her shock show on her face as she cups the girl’s cheek, forcing her to look at her and sees the tears streaming down her face. “What the fuck’s wrong?” She leans forward to see what’s in front of her.

A scale.

“Heaven-”

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m-” Heaven wipes a hand roughly at her cheeks, turning in Tashi’s loose grip. “Nothing, what time is it?”

“It’s…it’s uh, four.”

Heaven’s watery eyes widen, a stray tear manages to escape as the girl glances down at the bag in Tashi’s hands. “Shit, babe, I’m late. I…got caught up. M’sorry. Let’s go practice. Really, m’sorry, let’s practice. We can walk to the court’s at the center.”

Tashi’s eyes flick between the scale and Heaven’s determined look. “You good?”

Heaven sighs, scrubbing a hand down her face. “Let’s practice.”

“Yeah?” Tashi asks, tilting her head to the side as she observes her girlfriend. The girl impatiently shifts on her feet, looking off to the side and Tashi nods. “Okay.”

“Um, so,” Heaven clears her throat. “I think my dance partners are busy. You wanna dance?”

Yes. Art thinks. Immediately yes. But, was he supposed to pretend he didn’t see that interaction? Was he supposed to act like he didn’t watch how quickly her mother was able to stomp out the light in her eyes? The flirty smile she offers him isn’t the real thing that makes his heart beat fast. “Heaven-”

“Look, Art, it’s my birthday. It’s not gonna get better in one day, and right now I want to dance with a friend.” She sighs. Heaven pulls his own drink from his lips, placing it down on the table and taking his hand as she backs towards where the crowds of people were dancing. “Is that gonna be you, or do I need to find someone else?”

The pleading look on her face wears Art down and he lets her pull him to the edge of the makeshift dance floor. “I’m not a good dancer.”

“It’s not about being good, it’s about having fun.” She grins, this time genuinely as Art lifts her hand, spinning her as she leads them the rest of the way.

“Yeah,” he laughs sarcastically. “Says the best fucking dancer in the world.”

“Okay, okay, it’s a little bit about being good.” Heaven giggles, pushing up on her tiptoes and raising her own arm, eyebrows lifting as she waits for Art. He shakes his head chuckling.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes, go.” she snorts as he rolls his eyes, ducking down under her arm so that she can spin him too. “Okay, ow, my arm, too tall.”

“See?” Art snarks, hooking his finger into her belt loop and tugging her closer, rocking them side to side as Heaven wraps her arms around his neck.

“Okay, normally I’m the one being turned, so that’s on me.” She shrugs. The music changes and Long Way 2 Go by Cassie starts blasting through the speakers. “I fucking love this song. You know this one white boy?”

“What is with you and Tashi and calling us white boys?”

“Is that not what you are?” She asks, spinning away from him as gracefully as she had the day he’d watched her at the school theater. But this time he’s part of it. He’s not just an observer, even with her just dancing casually he’s hypnotized. He hadn’t even realized he was moving with her. She’s all there is. It’s just Heaven. “It’s about how it makes you feel. Dancing makes me feel better.”

Art nods, watching her intently as she turns in his hold, back pressed to his front, hands in his hair. “I think it feels just fucking amazing dancing with you.”

“Well,” she smiles, sliding her hands over his where they’re resting on her hips. “I think it’s fucking amazing watching you play tennis. I wanna see you play again.”

“I wanna play for you.” He says desperately.

“You really mean that, don’t you?” Heaven grins, facing him again, pressing their fronts together, giggling as he turns his face into her palm, pressing a kiss there. “You want to play for me?”

Before he can answer, the smile drops from her face, her head turns to the left slightly as she looks off to the side. Art turns his head, his gaze follows hers and lands on Patrick and Tashi. Always Patrick and Tashi. He brings his hand up to her jaw, gently guiding her face back to his. “I want you to look at me.”

“I am.” she whispers, looking up at him.

“Just me.”

“Art.” she says, stepping away from him with a disappointed frown.

"I know, I know, but-"

"Jesus fucking christ." She huffs, pushing his hands away completely and stomping off.

Art’s eyes scan the party carefully, as he tries to nonchalantly flick the ash from his cigarette to the ground. He has seriously cut back on smoking since he doesn’t have Patrick everyday to share them with and Tashi and Heaven turn their noses up at them. But, to say he felt anxious was an understatement.

He’d thought they were having a…thing when they were dancing before. To be fair he’s thought they’d had a lot of ‘things’ and each time they do, she retreats back. He’d like to be able to just shrug her off. To decide that she’s more trouble than what she’s worth and obviously the opposite of available and fuck off. But he can’t. It was something about her. Her eyes, the way she moves, her smile, laugh, just…Heaven. It’s what she is. The name just fucking fits.

Which is why he’s turned away three girls since she’d scrambled away from him into the house with one look back over her shoulder that had him wanting to follow behind her like a lovesick puppy.

So, here he was, blowing smoke into the night’s air while he stares at this pristine, glass back door that the girl he’s obsessed with that happens to be, at minimum, fucking his and her best friends, disappeared into.

He should have some self respect.

He should find a girl…hell he should find Tashi, the other girl who seems to occupy his mind, albeit less and less.

He should let Heaven fuck off if that’s what she wants to do.

How long can he beg her to like him back, to be interested in him?

How much more can a man take?

Art, apparently, can take at least a little more.

He flicks the bud of the cigarette to the ground and pops a piece of gum into his mouth, worried that Heaven will smell the smoke on his breath when he finds her. Art pushes the door to the house open, glancing back once to see if Tashi and Patrick were still “talking” back by the garden area.

When he’d first walked through the house he took the time to appreciate it in its glory. It’s a fucking ritzy house. It reminds him of Patrick’s house. Large and beautiful. It echoes. It’s not like his parent’s house at all. His is a family home, nicely sized but nothing as grand as this. Patrick always hated his own home, ever since he’d gone home with Art one Christmas, he almost refused to spend any holidays there. He said Art’s house seemed more ‘lived in’. Even when Art finally did get to see his best friend’s house one summer, he felt like his friend looked out of place there, even though it was where he was raised.

But Heaven…she looks like she belongs in a place like this. A place full of beautiful things is where she should live.

After searching the lower level Art stops at the bottom of the spiral stairs. His mom would kill him if she knew he was considering going through someone’s upper level without explicit permission like this. But, if…if there was a chance she was up there…

He respects the place enough to take his shoes off before making his way up the cold stairs. The upper level is dark and several degrees cooler than downstairs. He knows her mother stepped out about an hour ago, so he’s a little more confident as he slips through the long hallway, peeking his head in the open room doors, searching for her.

“Can we please not do this now?”

“So when, Heaven? I broke up with you and you don’t seem like you give a fuck. You haven’t checked on me once.”

Art pauses, hearing what he knows to be Heaven’s voice accompanied by a distinctly male voice in a room he can see is lit through the bottom of a sliding door.

“What was I supposed to do? Beg? I have too much shit to do. We didn’t work, that’s fine.”

He can almost envision the shrug she must’ve given. Her voice is so unfeeling, indifferent as the man spoke passionately, voice raising that has Art stepping closer to the door.

“So you don’t give a fuck?”

“Do you really want me to answer you?”

I wouldn’t. Art thinks to himself.

“Fucking-you can be such a bitc-”

Heaven flinches as the door to her studio slides open roughly, wood slapping into the wall as quick, heavy footsteps make their way into the room and suddenly Trevor is ripped from in front of her.

“Who the fuck are you talking to?” Art grits his teeth, his fists balled in Trevor’s shirt, the men stumble away from Heaven a little due to the momentum of Art rushing his way into the room.

Heaven’s eyes widen at the act of aggression from the gentle man who literally refuses to bring his voice above a soft tone when speaking to her and it's almost humorous. Like, she didn’t know what was throwing her more, the fact that he’d basically appeared and darted in to defend her honor, or the fact that he felt like he needed to defend her from the literal nobody that is her ex Trevor that clearly came to her party because he was some kind of masochist. “Oh my god, Art, that’s not necess-”

“Jesus, Heaven, how many guys are you fucking at this party?”

Oh. Well.

Now that he said that, she doesn’t feel bad when Art’s fist goes flying into his face.

Shocked? Yes. Bad? No.

A little turned on…maybe.

And that tennis must be doing more for the blond man than just making his muscles look good, because Trevor fucking hit the deck. She’ll acknowledge that she was attracted to the way Art’s jaw ticks in anger as he positions himself in front of her and plays knight in shining armor. A nice guy like him getting so mad on her behalf…

“Oh, shit.”

Trevor sputters, gripping his nose and looking up at the man in front of him. “Did you just hit me?”

“Don’t fucking talk to her like that-”

“Okay, okay, Arthur…um, wow,” Heaven chuckles humorously as she stands between the two men, nodding her head toward the door. “Trevor, get the fuck out, you dumped me okay? You win. Get the fuck out.”

The red-headed boy grits his teeth in annoyance, pushing off of the floor but opting not to do much more than give Heaven a sneer because, truthfully, this blond, preppy looking kid she has guarding her knocked the shit out of him. But as he makes his way to the door, he stops and turns, unable to hold his tongue completely. “I wouldn’t bother, man. She plays games. They only give a fuck about each other. It’s not worth it.” He finishes as he cups his aching nose, turning and leaving the room.

Heaven looks at Art at that, carefully watching his expression. She can’t tell what he’s thinking as he stares after Trevor, tight muscles still tense.

“What am I supposed to call you my hero or something?” she jokes, awkwardly trying to break the silence. The room suddenly feels too full with Art’s presence in it, despite the fact that Trevor had left.

“He shouldn’t be yelling at you like that.”

“Pft, Art,” she giggles, wrapping her arms around herself. “I am not afraid of Trevor. Trust me. It doesn’t matter-”

“No one should talk to you like that.” he says seriously. He doesn’t take the bait at all, and suddenly, Heaven realizes they aren’t just talking about Trevor anymore, and not only does the room feel small, she suddenly feels naked, for his examination. His eyes are somber as he looks at her, he steps forward and she’s even more crowded.

“Did you know you have heterochromia? Your eyes are a little blue…a little brown.” She tries, taking one step back for his two steps forward. Art stops, eyes flicking down at her movement before trailing back to her face. He takes a non threatening stance, shoving his hands into his pockets and tilting his head down as he looks into her eyes with the softest gaze anyone had ever given to her. He won’t push. Not if she doesn’t want him to. “Are you enjoying our party?”

Our. Right now she’s running. And he’s chasing. It seems to be how they like it. Both of them.

“I am.” He says breezily, a small smile gracing his face. “I even danced with this girl.”

“Was she hot?” Heaven jokes, walking out of the middle of the room and resting her hands behind her on one of the bars on the wall.

Like a string is pulling him, Art follows. She leads this dance. Bringing him in, enticing him to follow her, giving him a taste before pulling away for him to trail behind her again. It’s like an invisible string is pulling him when he steps forward, wetting his bottom lip as he moves to stand before her again. “Fucking gorgeous. But she left me on the dance floor.”

“What a bitch.”

He chuckles, shaking his head no. “She’s just got a lot going on.” He shrugs, looking down at his feet. Art sucks in a breath at the next thing that pops into his brain, but he can’t stop it. He looks back up at Heaven with a wry smile and releases his breath. “But I’ll wait.”

The offer hangs in the air. And Heaven retreats. Her hand shoots up to her name chain as she uses the other to clutch the bar even tighter, dragging herself closer against it. “Why?”

“Because she’s…perfect.”

Heaven’s head drops immediately at that, she purses her lips, looking over to the large mirrors to the left of them, staring at herself. “No. She’s not.”

“Yes, you are.” He says indignantly, dropping the facade and taking away the privilege of space. He reaches out and encases her wrist gently in his large hand, tugging her closer to him. Art walks them over to the mirror and pushes Heaven to stand in front of him, rubbing his hands along her sides. “You’ve got perfect everything.” His hands slide along her hips and squeeze, eliciting a gasp from Heaven. “Perfect hips. Perfect legs-” they move to the front of her thighs before trailing over her pelvis and along her stomach, “Perfect stomach and arms,” Art’s hands squeeze Heaven’s shoulders before dropping back to her stomach, holding her against him, “Perfect shoulders, and neck-” he murmurs against the soft skin of her shoulder before dragging his way up to her neck, placing deep kisses there.

He expects her to push him away. He feels her hand slip up into his blond curls like it had when they’d danced, but she just pulls him closer. Her back arches forward slightly as she tugs his hair and he kisses her neck. “Art-”

“You’re so fucking perfect, please let me touch you.” he pleads. And forces himself to wait. All he wants to do is bruise her perfect neck. Leave his mark. Make her feel good. Know that he did it. Art knows he’s playing the long game. The first match that he lost to Patrick, it was just the first set. The game isn’t over. Art wants to win.

So he fucking waits.

He’s easygoing, and offers her a smile when she wrenches herself from him, breathing heavily and rushing off to a bathroom to get a first aid kit from his hand he hadn’t even noticed started bleeding.

“Does, um…does that hurt?”

“No.” He says, sitting criss-crossed on the polished wooden floor with Heaven perched in front of him, refusing to look up from his hand. “Thank you.” he smiles sweetly.

“Yeah, for sure.” She stammers, finishing off with the last of her band-aids. “Sorry, they’re all my skin tone-”

“No, it’s fine, thank you, Heaven.” He tries to soothe her nervousness. “She’s a fucking medic too, ladies and gentlemen. See, fucking amazing.”

Heaven rolls her eyes and leans down, pressing a light kiss to his hand. “All better.”

Art hangs his head, laughing breathily and before looking back at her, scrubbing a hand down his face. “You suck you know that?”

A small grin forms on Heaven’s own face as she rocks from side to side. “What? Why?”

“How is a guy not supposed to fall in love with you when you’re doing shit like that?” He says, laying back on the wooden floors, absently thinking how nice it would be to see her dance again as he envisions what it's like in here when she’s alone, letting go, dancing for herself.

Heaven shrugs, laying down beside him, nudging his arm. “I dunno. Remember that I'm dating your best friend…and mine…and that you walked in on my ex basically calling me the wicked bitch of the west-”

“He’s stupid, you’re a goddamn princess.”

“I just dance like one, Art,” she turns her head to face him and wiggles her eyebrows. “It’s all an illusion.”

“No. It’s not.” He says, reaching over and taking her hand, bringing it to his lips before resting it on his chest, toying with her fingers with his own. Heaven groans loudly, kicking her feet up and letting them slap back to the floor sloppily. “What?” he chuckles.

She sits up, twisting her body and planting both hands on the floor, one on each side of his head, her hair dangling around them as she stares down at him. His blue and brown eyes swirl with something she’s not willing to acknowledge as she stares down at him. Heaven leans down, bringing her face close to his. “You’re not making this easy for me, Arthur.”

He offers her an innocent look back, willing himself not to tug her down the rest of the way. “Can’t help it.”

“Hev,” a voice calls from the doorway. Heaven scrambles back from Art, leaping to her feet and sees Tashi leaning in the doorframe, an easy smile on her lips. Her arms are crossed as she takes them in. “We’re ready to sing happy birthday. It’s a few minutes ‘til midnight, you’ll officially be 19. You done here?” She asks, a cocky smile on her face as she raises her eyebrows.

“Um,” Heaven smoothes her hair out, glancing down briefly at Art who is still on the floor, staring up at her. “Yeah.”

Walking straight for the door, Heaven grabs Tashi’s hand and leads her out of the room, powering forward as she drags her girlfriend out of the room. She doesn’t bother looking back for the blond man she left behind, painting a smile on her face as they made their way back outside.

As their friends and family countdown from 10 she and Tashi are guided to the middle of the backyard with a large cake in front of them, their names scribbled next to each other. Heaven squeezes Tashi’s hand, pulling her closer and wrapping her arm around her as they look at the blue and pink candles lit in front of them. “It wasn’t anything, T.”

“S’okay, babe. Seriously.” Tashi says through her smile as one of the girls from school takes a picture of them, cupping Heaven’s face and kissing her deeply. She knows that he’s watching. That they’re both watching.

So Art won a set. So the fuck what? Tashi smiles to herself as Heaven grins at her, murmuring a happy birthday as they hug each other. She can see the two men standing together, watching them intently, not knowing if they were jealous of them or because of them, and she knows the match isn't over.

#oc #earn it #art donaldson x you #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x oc #art donaldson x patrick zweig #tashi duncan x oc #patrick zweig x tashi duncan #art donaldson x tashi duncan #tashi duncan x reader #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig x oc #patrick zweig #love #art donaldson challengers #challengers spoilers #challengers 2024 #challengers movie

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months

Text

Dirty Work 48

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: My tumblr page wouldn't load on PC so I hope this posts?

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

A moan flutters between your lips as Loki's mouth closes around your nipple. His fingers daintily brush over the bruise along the other side of your chest, lingering on the bite mark before quickly trailing down. He fondles you as he swirls his tongue and hums, the low note rolling through you.

Your chest coils tight as you lay helpless. This isn't what you want, you want to talk, yet you cannot stop him or the heat coursing from your core. You tilt your chin up, arching your spine as he tickles along your side.

You close your eyes and try to push away the thoughts storming inside of you. Forget about everything; about Thor, and the locked door, and that fear plucking at your chest. This is what you're supposed to do. As long as he wants this, you still have a place here.

He brushes along the angle of your pelvis and down the crease of your thigh. You gasp as his touch sends a chill through you. He drags himself down your body, feeling along your legs as he lifts your feet onto the bed. You bend your knees, open to him as he slithers over the edges.

He kneels at the side of the bed and you turn your head away, shy as he glides a finger between your folds. You push your hands down to cover yourself, knowing he's looking at you.

He pulls your hands apart, twining his fingers through yours as he leans forward. You tense as his breath scours you and he delves his tongue along your cunt. You squeak and spasm at the cool sensation as it mingles with your warmth.

Your toes curl as he dives into you, cling to your hands as he laps you up ravenously. You moan and squeeze your thighs against his head. You rock as he teases you just so, tasting you with delighted growls.

He lets go of one hand, drawing his down, tracing a line along your flesh and down to your thigh. His tongue flicks over your clit as he prods along your entrance, toying with you as he spreads the slickness gathering there.

You whine as he dips a fingertip inside, he pulls in and out, sliding deeper each time. Your walls clench around him as your nerves ping against each other. You reach down without a thought, latching onto the coils of his hair.

He pushes another finger into you, sinking up to his knuckles. He rocks his hand in time with the motion of his tongue dancing around your tender bud. You tilt your hips towards him, welcoming him in as you block out the world on the other side of your eyelids.

You feel the bloom inside of you, like a morning glory opening to the sweet rays of sunlight. Your breath hitches and your muscles draw tight. You grit your teeth down on a moan and tug at his hair, rolling against his mouth, pleading wordlessly for more.

He keeps going, faster, deeper, working his hand against you as he drinks in your pleasure. You pant wildly as you ascend, higher and higher, and the wave crests, crashing down on you in tendrils. You twitch and whine, giving in to the sheer ecstasy of his touch.

He doesn't relent. He releases your other hand and spreads his hand wide across your stomach as if to hold you there. You couldn't move if you tried. You're so overwrought by his tending, your legs slip down and dangle over the edge.

You lift your head and your lashes part. You peer down at his dark strands as they drape over your pelvis, tickling along your lower stomach. The very sight of him lights a new fire in you. You fall limp and drone weakly. It's too much and yet you don't want him to stop.

Another orgasm breaks within you. This one has your voice pitchy as it piques. You cry out and thrash, the scattering of your nerves too intense.

You yank on his hair and push on the side of his head.

“Please, please, I can't…” you beg.

He chuckles against your cunt and rams his fingers as far as they'll go. You squeal and jolt on the mattress, pulling a hand asay to slap the bed.

“Please,” you whimper, “Loki…”

“Yesss,” he hisses and flicks his tongue up, “say my name, pet.”

“Loki,” you huff, “Loki, please…”

He purrs as he tastes you again, growling into you. You squirm and clasp the blanket, dragging it towards you as your nails graze his scalp. Your eyes roll back and you suck in air through your nose.

“Loki!” You exclaim, “Loki, I-I–”

You quake as you cum a third time. The bed trembles with you as you sink into the waves. Your hand falls away from his head and you just lay there in surrender.

He raises his head, parting from you as his humid breath stains your skin. You shiver as he slips his fingers from you, dragging them between your folds and you close your legs. He retracts his touch with a snarl and stands.

As he looms over you, you fold onto your side. Your heart raises, breath bated, skin buzzing. You watch his shadow against the wall as he unbuttons his shirt.

You inhale and let your eyes close. You're tired already. You listen to the rustle of his clothing as he undresses. A current flows through you at the thought of what he'll do next. A tremor at the question mark still between you.

He crawls onto the bed. He urges you onto your back as he brings himself over you, keeping himself cradled between your open legs. He sweeps his hand along your hairline and down your cheek, framing your face as he bows to kiss you.

His nose presses against yours but the pain fades into the echoes of delight. He curls his other arm beneath you. He breaks away from your lips and smears his mouth down your cheek. He nibbles and nuzzles down to your neck.

His hand creeps down to your chest once more, savouring every curve and line, doting on every inch. His naked body crushes yours into the bed as he growls and nips at your throat. You moan as his length rubs against you.

He shifts his knees, lifting himself, angling his tip down and gliding it along your cunt. You grasp the back of his head, chest clutching, muscles knotted. Are you ready for this?

It doesn't matter. He isn't stopping and you can't make him. His hand snakes down as he guides himself along your folds, wetting himself as he groans into the crook of your neck. He pushes against you, your body resisting his intrusion.

You hook your other arm around his neck, hugging him as he rocks, working against the invisible barrier. He eases inside, stretching you around his swollen tip as you whine and whimper. Your eyes prick with tears as ripples sear through you.

He wiggles his hips, patiently tilting until he slides a bit further. You gasp and push your head back, your arm looping tighter around his neck as you clutch his arm with your other hand. He breathes against your skin as he thrusts carefully, each time a little further.

“Mmm,” he purrs, “pet, you're so good…” his teeth pinch you again, “how could I not want this.”

He delves in even deeper and you exclaim. A heavy pain fills you as he overrides the last of your resistance. You dig your nails into his firm muscle as his hand slips beneath your ass, lifting your pelvis against him.

He sinks to his limit and your tears flow over. Through the agony, the spark remains, burning hot through your core. He unhooks his other arm from beneath you and stretches his hand across your neck, his fingers closing around your throat as he pushes his lips to your cheek.

He rolls his hips as you whimper. You gnash your teeth and you flutter your lashes against the swell of pain. Slowly it recedes and once more you plunge into the raging tides.

The bed moves with him, scraping on the floor as he ruts hard and faster. He puffs against your cheek, gristly whispers wafting into your ear, “pet… so delicious… mine…”

He squeezes your neck tighter as he picks up his motion. The friction of his pelvis strikes heat in your clit, burning hotter and hotter with his tempo. You wheeze above his grip and whine, spasming through another climax.

“Say it,” he snarls.

You obey, “Loki.”

“Louder,” he demands, pounding you into the bed, his body flush to yours, sweaty skin sticking together.

“Loki!” You bluster.

“Pet,” he growls as he buries himself in you over and over. “Do you feel… how much I want you?”

You moan and bite your lip, quivering in the dregs of your orgasm.

“Do you?” He rasps.

“Y-yes,” you babble.

He grunts and tears his hand from your throat. He brings both arms beneath you, hooking his fingers around your shoulders as he hangs his head down next to yours. He rams into you with all his strength, fucking you so you bounce against the bed.

Again, the pressure aches in you. It doesn't take much for it to snap again. You drone madly as pleasure flows from you. Loki drives harder and harder until you think you might break.

He growls and grunts, whipping his hair behind his head as he lifts himself. He slides out of you, your insides twitching, and slides his length along your tender lips, rubbing himself against your cunt as he tenses and shakes.

He cums with a gritty series of groans spilling hotly onto your pelvis and stomach, spreading the mess with his slowing motion. He drops his head and puffs. Dazed and drained, you reach to touch his shining stands. He flinches and raises his head, looking down at you with fiery hunger in his eyes.

He angles himself back and eases down, slipping inside of you once more. You squeal, oversensitive and worn out. He shudders and lifts you, sitting on his heels as he brings you onto his lap.

“Pet,” he utters, his tone agonized, “you will never leave me.”

He covers your mouth with his, swallowing down your shallow breaths as he rock you atop him. He trembles as he does, small whimpers spilling into you. But he doesn't stop. It's as if he means to consume you entirely.

You melt into his kiss and his embrace. You don't have the strength to deny him, you don't even have the energy to think. The world beyond your bodies is fuzzy and insignificant.

✨

The afternoon wears on in shades of blue. You lay beneath Loki’s arm as he dozes beside you. He needs the sleep so you let him be, happy to see him rest.

As you lay trapped, you grow restless. You shift from his grasp, gently leading his arm over the pillow. You get up, careful not to jostle too much, and retreat to the bathroom.

You relieve the pressure in you and sigh up at the ceiling. You rinse yourself and stand gingerly, thighs pulsing as they meet. You limp to the mirror and wince at your reflection.

You forgot it all. The tree cracking cartilage, the stain of dirt and blood, the unheard pleas. You grip the counter and hunch over the sink.

And what is so different now? Loki didn't want to hear you so he took. He took exactly what you promised but is it any better?

You feel sick and dizzy. It's just the concussion. It's the whirlwind of it all. You can't think straight.

You wanted it too, didn't you? You begged for more. You moaned in delight. You even came you don't know how many times.

So why does it feel so… strange?

You close your eyes and turn on the facet. You dab water around your face, trying not to wet the bandages, and centre yourself. There isn't much of a centre to be found. You are more lost than ever before.

He wants you, but do you want this? Do you even know what this is? It's all foggy and he refuses to wipe the glass clean.

You shut off the water and raise your head. Your eyes widen as you notice the figure behind your reflection. Loki stands in the doorway, his face unreadable.

“I thought you'd wandered off,” his voice is brittle as he approaches.

You shake your head and dry your hands, hanging the cloth back on it's hook. Before you can face him, he has you penned against the counter. He reaches to your chin and turns your head straight.

“Do you understand now, pet?” He lays a kiss on your crown, his eyes alight as he watches you ib the mirror.

“No,” you whisper and clear the frog from your throat, “I don't understand. Loki…” you shudder and stop his hand as it rests on your hip, “we need to talk about what happened.”

“We… did we not enjoy ourselves?” He asks with an arch in his brow, his other arm snaking around you.

“Not that,” you try futilely to escape him, “about Walpurgisnacht–”

He hushes you and tuts as he pushes you against the counter, “it's over now. Behind us. Let's not worry–”

“Loki,” you twist around and press your hands to his chest, “Thor–”

“Don't say his name,” he recoils and wags a finger at you, “ever. Not to me.”

“He–”

“Enough,” he snaps.

“I just want to move past it–”

“I am past it,” he insists, “it's as simple as that. Walpurgisnacht is over, this a new beginning. For us. Just us.”

“I… know, but–”

“But?” He sneers. “We are home. We are here. They will not bother us here. I will be certain of it.”

“Them? Loki? What does that mean? Frigga? Odin?”

He scoffs and waves his hand dismissively, “I told you this conversation is over.”

He spins on his heel and marches out. You gulp and follow him as he disappears into the bedroom. He snatches his robe from where it hand by the closet and continues to the door. You scurry to catch him but the door closes before you can reach him.

You feel the lock slide into place and throw your fists against the door, “Loki!”

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #maid au #dirty work #mcu #marvel #thor #avengers

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sailoryooons · 8 months

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Lights | Episode 0 | jjk (m)

❀ Pairing: Idol!Jungkook x Producer! F. reader

❀ Summary: Meeting Jungkook was a chance of fate. A moment frozen in time, eyes meeting across a room full of lights. The more the two of you advance in your career, the more lost in the lights you become. What if you never find your way back?

❀ Word Count: 583

❀ Genre: Heavy angst, Idolverse, strangers to lovers, eventual smut

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❀ Warnings: Nothing really in this chapter, vague references to being a kid growing up in a competitive environment, reader being a little poetic about her childhood.

❀ Published: September 28, 2023

❀ A/N: Hola, in honor of 3D I decided to post the prologue of this thing I have been working on while on hiatus as a cool project to inspire myself to write again. I have no idea what I’m doing, but I am writing this story as though it were sort of a ... famous person tells all. 98% of the story will be in the present tense and we read it as if it's happening, with small interludes of present-day where reader is reflecting on her life in an interview with Namjoon. I have no idea if I will stick with it, so please be patient and let me write this at whatever pace works best for me. And remember - there are going to be very dark parts of this series, and Jungkook and reader both are going to have very ugly moments. If that’s not your cup of tea and you do not like to see characters epically fail and sometimes reveal the ugly parts of themselves, this fic is not for you.

❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment, or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. This series in no way attempts to paint a realistic depiction of idols, or the industry, or draw comparisons. None of the scenes or elements in this series in any way reflect how I perceive the music industry and do not represent any opinions as a whole. This is not intellectual commentary, it is just straight-up fiction.

“In omnia paratus. Ready for anything,” you scoff, shaking your head. “Seems like a pretty big ideal for a teenager. You have to understand, we all felt that way. A bunch of kids working for the same dream, ready to push, shove, claw our way to it.”

Namjoon adjusts his glasses and nods. His long legs are crossed at the ankle as he leans back in his seat, the perfect picture of poise. His glasses are low on his nose and he’s dressed in a warm cardigan today to fight off the chill of Autumn.

“Was it really competitive?” he prompts, fingers laced together. “What was that like?”

“It’s hard to say. I viewed it through the lens of a kid at the time. I guess to me it would have felt like a game - be better than everyone else, get a reward.”

“And now, through the lens of an adult.”

You heave a sigh and blow out air. You're in the comfort of your home up in the hills, a fireplace crackling to your left. The production crew thankfully didn’t fuss with your living room too much. It was perfect the way it was, muted tones and lived in, not some minimal, sterile space like Seokjin might have or the maximalist terror of Taehyung’s estate.

“Now,” you venture, slowly stringing the words together. “I think it was where I learned to take no prisoners and to do whatever I had to do to win. Being that close to your dream, and meeting the legends you want to imitate while living in constant fear it might be taken away… it creates a feral desire in you. Feeds the monster inside the kid that has just started to wake up.”

“Would you say that’s where the hardship began?”

You shake your head. “Not the kind that we’re here to talk about. It wasn’t like - I wasn’t a child star, you know? I was still relatively normal. It was school and working on dancing and singing and all of these things because I wanted to produce music and it was hard, but it wasn’t… It wasn't cruel. It wasn’t dark.”

“When would you say is when it first really started to turn for you?” Namjoon asks, leaning forward a bit. “The first moment you can remember that you might have taken that first step towards everything.”

“In omnia paratus,” you murmur again. You think about that night, gaze unfocused. You no longer see Namjoon, but rather a shock of shaggy, black hair, doe eyes filled with promise, and an arm full of tattoos. “Ready for anything but Jungkook, apparently.”

Namjoon raises his brows. “So the night you met Jungkook?”

“In nihil paratus. I was ready for nothing, least of all the likes of fucking Jeon. That was the first night my management ever asked me to do something extreme. So I did.”

“Tell me about that night, then.”

You remember it so well. You’re not sure how out of all the memories, this one seems so preserved. Crystal clear and sharp at the edges. You remember the tight, white shirt Jungkook was wearing, tucked into dark jeans paired with boots. His tattoos were stark against his shirt and his hair was wavy, a little damp with sweat.

Jungkook had looked at you from across the event floor, an ocean swimming with swaying bodies and flashing lights, cryogenic fog hanging in the air. You’d just walked in, careful not to trip in your stilettos as you walked down the steps. Nervous. Near cracking under pressure.

And then you looked up, right at those round, dark eyes.

In nihil paratus. You were ready for nothing.

#jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook fic #jeon jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #idolverse au #minors do not interact #minors dni

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astral--horrorshow · 8 months

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Red Snow - Platonic Yandere Mud Dogs x GN Reader

A/N: Happy spooky month, everyone!! This is the first of two stories I'm going to release for October. They're based off of horror/thriller media, and credit to @yandere-toons for the inspiration of merging a horror movie with a yandere scenario with their Invader Zim story!

This story is based off of the film "No Exit", and even though the protag in the film and this share the same name, they aren't the same, that's a just a coincidence.

Try to guess what the second story is based off of! Here's a hint: It most likely served as inspiration for a nordic horror game that's getting a third installment in 2024!!

If anyone wants to draw fanart based off of this story or take any sort of inspiration based off of it, please feel free!! I'd be happy to see anything you make!

Her: You better not be writing a 6000+ fanfic for characters who only had 5 minutes of screentime when I get there!

Me:

Warning: This story is meant for entertainment purposes only and not meant to romanticize or encourage any of the behaviors found in it.

TW: a gun, blood, kidnapping, restraints, semi infantilizism, being struck, hinted fear mongering, slight gore, death, this is strictly platonic

Word Count: 6246

Summary: Darby is stranded at a rest stop in a snowstorm with 5 complete strangers when they unveil a chilling discovery.

Darby wrapped their hands around the mug of coffee, warming their hands up through their fur. They sighed in relief as they began to feel their fingers again, the snow melting.

A snowstorm raged outside, beating against the windows of the rest stop and coating them with layer after layer of dull frost. Looking around, Darby swallowed hard as they took a nervous glance at the people they would be sharing the rest stop with for the foreseeable future. Three other yōkai shared the table in the center of the room with them, with a fourth napping in the corner of the room, and another making himself a cup of coffee. Their hand instinctively drifted to the pocket on their jeans, attempting to soothe their nerves by rubbing the denim-covered contents. The air was thick and hard to breathe in, not with Darby’s nerves.

“What’s your name, kid?”

The cat yōkai jolted, yanking their hand away from their pocket and staring at the bat yōkai from across the table. “Sorry?” They breathed out, trying to regain the air in their lungs.

“I said, what’s your name?”

“Oh! Oh. Darby, sorry…”

“Nothing to apologize for,” the bat said, reaching up and scratching his big ear, “But you’ll want to get used to me. We’ll be here for a while.

Darby swallowed again, and nodded. The bat gave a half-smile to them, and spoke again.

“I’m Rafferty, and this is my wife-”

“Juane,” the borzoi yōkai next to him butted in.

“Right, Juane,” Rafferty turned to the eel on Darby’s right and opened his mouth, but the eel beat him to it.

“I’m Mickey!” He said, cheerfully.

“Well, hello, Mickey.” Juane said, staring at him with a turned head. Mickey grinned at her, which unsettled Darby. In fact, all of the yōkai in that room freaked them out. They didn’t know what it was. Maybe it was the way Juane’s eyes seemed to stare at them from behind her long snout, maybe it was Rafferty’s intimidating aura or Mickey’s freaky grin.

Everyone sat in near-silence again, the sound of the coffee maker and the snowstorm being the only companion to the yōkai’s ears. Mickey looked like he wanted to say something, but he took a glance at the rat making the coffee, and kept his mouth shut. Darby took notice of this, and an uneasy feeling burrowed into their stomach. Maybe they were overthinking it, but maybe not. Why would Mickey stop himself from talking after looking at a stranger?

Darby clutched their knees. They needed to be away from people, to clear their head. They stood up from the table, the grating sound of the chair scooting back on the hardwood making them internally wince. They half-stumbled to the bathroom, unaware of the burning stare boring into their back.

Inside the bathroom, Darby pulled out their phone to find it had no service. Even though they were expecting it, being in a rest stop in the middle of nowhere with a snowstorm raging outside, they still groaned. The thought of being completely stranded with the unsettling strangers that they had just met made them feel sick. They buried their head in their hands, taking a deep breath. Maybe they could get some service outside. They needed to get away from all of that thick air, anyways.

Darby trekked out of the bathroom, not sparing even a passing glance at the other yōkai while they walked towards the doors. They pushed the doors open, the frigid air drawing all heat from their body and bits of ice pelting their coat and nose. They didn’t mind. It was freeing. Refreshing, even. Their boots crunched against the snow as they took their phone out of the pocket of their olive green jacket, holding up like a flare in hopes of getting at least a single bar. They tramped around in the thick snow, trying not to let go of their phone by gripping as tight as they could with their quickly numbing fingers.

A metallic-sounding thud barley pierced Darby’s ears through the vociferous whistling of the storm, but they heard it, nonetheless. There was another thud, and Darby snapped their head towards the vehicle it came from, a large, dark van.

Darby lowered their phone and stumbled towards the van, glancing back at the rest stop windows. Nobody had moved or was looking at them. They jumped behind the van, standing at its back doors. One of the windows had been covered up with something, but the other one had only snow as its curtain. They wiped away the snow with their hand, and immediately jumped back.

There was a human in the van.

Your arms and shins were tightly bound together with rope, and a gag covered your mouth. You banged on the window with your arms and Darby could hear you whimper as they stumbled back in shock. Shaking off their surprise, they turned back to the window again to make sure that nobody was looking, and threw themselves to the door window.

“Hey, hey, I’m gonna get you out of here, alright? I’m gonna help you, you’re gonna be okay.”

You continued to whimper, attempting to open the van doors with your bound and mittened hands to no avail. Darby tried the doors, too. Locked.

Darby panted in fear, eyes widening when they glanced back at the window and saw a figure standing tall with their back turned. Darby practically leaped to the other side of the van, pressing their back to it and holding their hand up to their chest, feeling their heart beating fast. They didn’t want to believe that they were in this situation, that they were dreaming, or hallucinating.

Taking a deep breath, they attempted to calm their nerves. They only had to play it cool until they could get help. But who knows how long that would be? And they didn’t even know who the van even belonged to! Everyone in there was an equal suspect, and Darby didn’t even know the other two’s names! They groaned and tugged on their ears. The cat yōkai couldn’t just pull you out, but there had to be a way to help, there had to!

Darby smoothed some of the frazzled fur on their head and took another breath. It was going to be hard, but playing cool was their only option until they could deduce who the owner of the van was, or at least get one bar of service. They walked back to the rest stop, holding their phone above their head again.

They tucked it back into their pocket when they opened the doors, swallowing the lump in their throat when they saw the two other yōkai, now sitting at the table. The rat decked out in purple smiled at Darby as they walked inside with what might’ve been a warm smile if he didn’t have such an air of coldness to him. Darby tried their best to smile at him back, though it probably looked more like a grimace. They didn’t smile much, anyways.

They sat back down in their chair, taking in the sight of playing cards on the table and the scent of cheap instant coffee wafting in the air. “Well, hello,” the rat said in a friendly tone, “It looks like we have everyone here! My name’s Danny.”

He reached a hand out to Darby, and they gingerly shook it. “Darby…”

Though the ogre yōkai to the right of Danny was sitting at the table with everyone else, he didn’t make any move to speak, focusing more on the deck of cards in his hands, which he was shuffling with his thick fingers. Darby eyed him nervously. Silent and sullen-seeming, he might’ve been the type to hide a human in his van, but Darby stopped themself from making any assumptions. If there was one thing their mother taught them, it’s that one can’t judge from feeling alone. Darby knew plenty of quiet and sullen people, including themself. That didn’t mean that they had a human in their car. The snake in the grass could be any one of the people they shared the table with.

“So, where are you all headed?”

Rafferty struck up conversation again, glancing around at everyone. “I’m headed to Shimmering Isle with Juane.”

“I’m going to the Enclave. Don’t you just need a change of scenery every once in a while?” Danny said, raising his coffee cup up to his mouth.

“That’s neat, son. And where are you headed, Darby?”

Darby’s throat went dry as they opened their mouth to speak, eyes darting around the room as they tried to think up a place for them to say. They just wanted to get away from the Hidden City, they didn’t realize they would have to lie to a stranger about it.

Luckily for them, Danny spilled his coffee on Mickey, and luckily for Mickey, it was only lukewarm at that point. Still, he groaned when the dark liquid stained his bright orange t-shirt and ran down his tail. Danny apologized profusely, but it didn’t seem genuine to Darby. Maybe not to Mickey, either, as he was glaring at Danny like he had just defaced a priceless family heirloom.

Darby took advantage of the commotion and slipped inside the bathroom again, looking around for a window or a back door until they saw a big hole covered up with a piece of flimsy plywood. They grabbed a crowbar near the hole, and pried it open with some effort. They rushed back to the van and slipped the edge of the crowbar between the cracks of the passenger seat door, prying it open, too.

The cat yōkai crawled inside the car and closed the door behind them, practically diving to you. They lifted up your head gently, awkwardly petting it with their other hand in an attempt to soothe your cries and whimpers from behind your gag. “Hey, it’ll be fine, it’ll be fine,” they repeated like a mantra, trying to convince themselves more than you. “My name is Darby, and I’m gonna get us out of here, okay? We’re gonna get out here.”

Darby grabbed the side of your gag, attempting to pull it off when they heard the driver’s side handle jiggling, whoever was attempting to open it was having a hard time. Darby’s eyes widened, and their eyes darted around to find a hiding place. Spotting a pile of blankets in the corner right behind the driver’s seat, they slipped under it, tucking the crowbar in, pulling their legs in and internally praying that their ears didn’t stick out.

The door opened, and someone slid into the front seat. Yanking the door shut, Mickey’s voice muttered angrily.

“You could’ve just tapped me, you could’ve done ANYTHING but spill coffee on me! Man, this is totally gonna stain!”

Tears ran down your face as you craned your neck to gaze up at Mickey, curling into yourself on the floor. He heard your sniffles and looked down at you, his face now set in gentle confusion and concern instead of the death glare he sported merely a moment ago. “Oh, sorry, little pike. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, “It’s just- Danny can be such an a-” Mickey cut himself off, taking a deep, shaky breath. “Danny can be very mean… sometimes.”

He said this through gritted teeth, as though it was physically painful for him to talk in the way one would to a kindergartener. He ran his arm over the fin on the top of his head, closing his eyes. “Oh, yeah!” He exclaimed, opening his eyes again, “I’m supposed to be checking on you. Are you okay?” He took notice of your puffy eyes and shaky breaths, “You don’t look so good-”

MIckey halted his sentence, his eyes widening as he looked at the uncovered back window and the piece of cardboard near your feet, “What the hell?! Did you do that?!” He pulled himself into the back, scrambling towards the door. He snatched the cardboard up from the floor and put it back on the window before turning back around to you. “We told you not to touch the windows!”

You started to sob again, eyes shutting tightly as you curled up into yourself. “Hey, hey, hey, don’t cry. You’re gonna be okay.” Mickey switched back to his gentle tone, petting your head with his arm, “Trust me, things’ll get a lot better when we get to Jadetown.” He said this while using his other arm to reach into one of the many boxes in the van, pulling out a shirt exactly like the one he was wearing, except that it didn’t have a coffee stain on it. He pulled off his black coat, inspecting the stormy fur that lined the hood to see if there was any trace of coffee on it, and set it aside to change his shirt.

After Mickey pulled his coat back on, he grinned at you and petted your head again. “I have to go back inside now, people’ll think I’ve died, haha!” He clambered back into the driver's seat and got out of the van. He slithered towards the rest stop again, pulling his jacket closer around him. Mickey wasn’t paying attention to the world in front of him, as always, so it was a surprise when he bumped into the chest of Leonard, with Danny behind him. If looks could kill, the ogre yōkai would have a bigger body count than he already had, but it wasn’t directed at Mickey, no, he was glaring at their van. The eel looked back at him and the van, confused.

“What is it, Len?” Mickey asked, “Is there a scratch on the paint, or-”

“No, there isn’t a scratch!” Leonard snarled, “Where’s the cat?”

Mickey looked back to the van, eyes shooting towards the bootprints leading towards its back door.

Once they were sure that Mickey was back inside, Darby slipped out of it again, and rushed over to you again. This time, they were able to take off your gag, and you coughed and cried and took shaky, deep breaths as though your head had just been let up out of a bucket of water. Darby lifted your head up, wrapping an arm around your back in support.

“What did he mean by ‘we’? Are there other people with him?”

You let out another sob, “Yes, yes, yes- Please, please help me…” You spoke incoherently after you has answered Darby’s question, but their blood ran cold as they looked up and saw three figures standing outside of the rest stop door, their stares rapt on the van. Darby’s fur stood up on end, and after they stumbled back, tipping a few boxes over mistakenly, they pulled open the back door and fell into the snow. They scrambled into the surrounding forest, hoping to loop back while your kidnappers were distracted.

You felt the hope that you would be saved disappear with Darby into the trees, tears flowing from your eyes and down your face in grief for your potential freedom. The harsh wind from the open door felt bitterly cold. The sliding door on the side of the van was yanked open by Leonard, who looked at the open back door and the objects littered around the van from Darby’s getaway. He seethed in anger, clenching his fist. “Mickey, come with me. Danny, stay here.” As he and Mickey ran off after the cat yōkai who could ruin everything for them, Danny got into the back of the van and closed all the doors. After he re-fastened the gag around your mouth, he pet your cheek and smiled.

Darby stumbled through the trees, pushing branches out of their way and trying not to trip over roots and rocks hidden under the heavy snow. They heard shouting behind them, along with the faint sound of a pair of footsteps that weren’t their own and what sounded like something being dragged across the snow.

The farther they ran, the harder it was for them to keep their balance. They nearly slipped with every step, but they refused to let themself give up. If those criminals caught them, they would be as good as dead. Darby started to practically climb up the hill, seeing the distant light from the rest stop glowing above their head. The running and shouting was getting closer, “Get back here! You’ll ruin everything!”

They ignored every word the ogre and the eel shouted at them, only focused on their goal; get back to the stop and tell Rafferty and Juane what was going on. That was the only way they would have even a sliver of a chance saving you. The light grew brighter, they were almost there! But anything that seems too good to be true usually is, for the moment they caught a glimpse of the roof, Danny jumped in front of them from seemingly nowhere, making them stumble back.

The back of their boot snagged on a root hidden deep beneath the glimmering snow, but instead of falling back on the hill and landing upside-down, they started to roll down the hill, getting face-full after face-full of dirt, leaves, and snow. Leonard reached out to grab them, but they knocked him over so that he started to roll, too.

Darby and Leonard hit a tree, hard. It knocked the wind out of Darby’s lungs, but Leonard was able to recover faster. Darby opened their swirling eyes and saw a gun slipping out of the inside pocket of Leonard’s jacket as he was reaching out for them. Just as it fell out, they shot their hand out and gripped it like their life depended on it, which it did.

Quickly regaining their senses, Darby pushed themself back with their feet, taking advantage of Leonard’s shock to stand up and point the gun in front of them, shifting its aim between Danny, Mickey, and Leonard, who had stood up and was closing in on them with the other two.

“Come on, kid,” Danny said, “We don’t want trouble. Hand over the gun and keep your mouth shut, and nothing bad will happen to you.”

“I’m not an idiot, don’t lie to me!” Darby said, voice raised, “Stay away, or I’ll shoot you. I’ll do it!”

Danny honed in on the way they were holding the gun, and scoffed internally. They didn’t know how to use that thing. If he were to run out and grab it, he would’ve been able to push them into the stream aways down before they figured out where the trigger was.

“No, you won’t. Come on, we want to get out of here just as much as you do.”

“I bet you do. Why do you have a human?”

“It’s impolite to ask about other people’s business, dear,” he condescended, taking tiny steps forwards.

“It’s everyone’s business if you have it tied up!”

“You don’t know anything!” Leonard yelled, making Darby jump.

The moment the cat's eyes flitted away from him, Danny lunged at them. The two struggled with the gun for a few seconds before it fired into the snow, startling everyone. Darby pushed the rat off of them and made a mad dash towards the top, going as twice as fast as they had before. Crashing footsteps sounded through the forest, but this time, only in the forest. There was no fourth accomplice waiting to grab them at the stop, so they made it safely into the rest stop again, slamming the glass doors behind them. Rafferty and Juane stared at them, apt confusion on both of their faces.

“What’s wrong, Darby? What’s going on?”

The cat was out of breath, holding their hand up to their chest and wheezing. “Dan, Mick, Leonard-”

“What about them-” Rafferty began to inquire, but cut himself off at the sight of the aforementioned yōkai nearing the door, each with a menacing look and a weapon in their hand. Darby turned to face them and wondered, did they get the other two from the truck? They probably did, Darby thought, but shook their head. It wasn’t important where they got the weapons when they were closing in like a kettle of vultures to roadkill.

“What are they doing, Darby?” Juane asked, holding on to her husband's arm as they backed up out of their seats.

“They have a human tied up in their van, and they know I know it.”

The two elder yōkai gasped, holding on to each other tighter. “What are we going to do?” Juane asked, “I haven’t fought since-”

“No, no. Go hide.” Darby interrupted, “I started this. I’ll finish it.”

Rafferty and Juane looked at each other for a moment, then nodded. Darby continued to stare down the approaching criminals as the sound of swift footsteps faded behind them. Each of them had a murderous look on their face.

As they got closer and closer, Darby realized something. They had no weapon of their own. They left the crowbar in the van, and even if they did have it, they were facing three yōkai that had probably killed before. Darby never once won a schoolyard fight, what made them think they could take on three criminals? They backed up as they thought of the foolishness of their plan, mentally berating themself for their impulsiveness.

This was all their fault. They were going to be murdered, then Rafferty and Juane would probably be found and face the same fate. Then you would get carted off to who-knows-where and be subjected to who-knows-what. For the first time in months, tears welled up in Darby’s eyes as they stumbled backwards and hit the wall.

You squirmed across the floor towards the pile of blankets in the corner that Darby had taken refuge under. None of your captors has time to search the van. You shoved your bound arms under the blanket, feeling up and down until your hands hit the cold piece of metal. You grabbed it, and tried to tug on the knot of your ropes with the end of it as hard you could.

Minutes passed with barely any results, and you were about to give up when you felt the grip the ropes had on your arms loosen. Your soul rose and flew, and you continued to tug until they had slipped off. You pushed yourself up and started to practically throw every restraint off, cradling yourself once you threw the ropes and the gag far away from you.

The only thing you wanted to do was curl up and cry, but you had already done enough of that the past few days. You had to get out of here, maybe Darby was still alive. Maybe they were still around. Probably not, you thought to yourself. If they were fast, the Mud Dogs were faster. The last time you had tried to run, they had caught you in under a minute. But maybe there were still other people who could help you. You had been drilled countless times about how no other yōkai would like humans as much, but this could be your last chance. If they had made it to Jadetown, who knows when you would be allowed outside again? They did say they had to lay low for a while, you heard them arguing about it.

Shaking off your fears, you crawled into the driver's seat and opened the door, falling face-first into the snow. You stood on your wobbly legs and stumbled to the hood of the truck, where you saw the wide-open doors of the building your captors were in, and a bullet going into your would-be savior's head. Blood and flesh splattered all over the dark wood of the walls, and you suppressed a scream.

You fell backwards into the snow, putting a hand over your mouth and scooting away. You couldn’t find the strength to stand up. You took a glance around the parking lot. There were definitely more than two cars, but who did they belong to? You couldn’t see or hear anyone else in the building. You didn’t think they were dead. You would’ve heard screaming or a gunshot or-

You broke yourself out of your thoughts. Now wasn’t the time to worry about that. You needed to get away. If one of them turned around, your freedom would come to an end. No, you had to get into the woods. At least you could be a little concealed there. Then you could figure out what to do.

With newfound confidence and adrenaline, you made yourself stand up again. You glanced around, and saw the entrance to a hiking trail 30 yards away from you. Trying to be as quiet as possible, you stumbled to the trail, heading into more darkness.

The Mud Dogs walked out of the bathroom, having killed the other two yōkai that were in there and washing the blood off of their faces and hands. Leonard smoothed his hair, closing his eyes and taking a breath. It had been a long night. First, the storm. Then Darby came along. He growled at the thought of them, trying to hold himself back from kicking their body. This was all their fault. They had to lay low, and the cat almost ruined everything. He sighed. There was no use hanging up on it.

“Why is the van door open?”

Leonard and Danny snapped up at Mickey’s question, honing in on the parking lot. He was right, it was open. Tiny footsteps led to the side, going off into the forest. Leonard froze. You didn’t.

You did.

When the Mud Dogs ran out and opened the van, you were nowhere to be found. Your restraints were on the floor with a crowbar. Leonard barely bit back his scream of anger. All of the trouble they went through tonight, and now you had run off into the snowy woods without proper clothes and you were going to freeze to death if they didn’t find you on time. Just wonderful.

The three ran after your footsteps into the woods, Leonard ordering Mickey to go right after it had gotten too dark to see the forest floor. Leonard and Danny tramped forwards, pushing branches aside and keeping their ears open for any noises over the snowstorm. Danny groaned internally. Out of all the things to forget back in the Hidden City, why did it have to be the flashlight?

“Dollface! Come back!” Danny shouted, his voice echoing off the trees.

“There’s no use in yelling, Danny. They’re not going to come to us no matter how cold they are.”

“Well, at least I’m trying.” Danny mumbled, feeling his feet numb through his boots, “Maybe Mickey found them…”

“He would’ve yelled for us. Go left, I’ll keep going on ahead. They couldn't have gone far.”

You dragged your numb feet through the deep snow, trying to stay awake. The snow had soaked through your socks, which were worse-for-wear. You tried to keep yourself optimistic in spite of your numb hands and feet and exhausted mind and body. All you needed to do was make it to a road, or a house, or someone who wasn’t a criminal. That was all you…

You fell to your knees, throwing your hands in front of you to stop your nose from hitting the ground. You could barely hold yourself up, your arms shaking from weakness and the cold. Snow and ice whipped at your face, making you somehow sting and feel numb at the same time. Your attempts to push yourself up were in vain, as you fell into the snow the moment you lifted your arms. You could only turn your head to the side to avoid suffocating in the snow, and nothing else. Your thoughts felt foggy and the snow twisted to swirls in your vision. You were so cold. So tired. You just wanted to go home.

Danny called out your name, his ears twitching for any sort of answer or noise. Along with his insane worry, he also held anger at you. How could you do this to them? Why didn’t you just stay put?

“Hey, I found them!”

Mickey’s shout rang throughout the woods, and Danny ran towards the sound of his voice. Leonard was already there, kneeling towards your unconscious body and hoisting you off of the ground, feeling your pulse.

“Are they alive?” Danny asked, feeling his heart sink to his stomach.

“Yeah, they are, but they’re freezing. Let’s get them by that heater.”

They sped off towards the rest stop, Leonard carrying you in his arms. They reached the indoors, Mickey closing the doors behind them after he had retrieved a few lengths of rope from the van. Leonard pulled a chair in front of the heater on the left side of the room, setting you down in it. Mickey tied your arms and legs to the chair’s own limbs, making sure to tighten them to the point where you were sure to have bruises on your skin if you struggled.

Leonard cast off his jacket and threw it over you, making sure that your practically frozen fingers and feet still faced the heater. As mad as he was at you, he wouldn’t go so far as to cause body parts to fall off. He sank into a chair, leaning back and closing his eyes. It had been a long night. They just needed to sit for a while.

Danny clenched his hands around his chair, his sharp nails digging into the wood. They needed to keep you on a tighter leash. Look what you did the moment they took their eyes off of you. It was all the cat's fault. You had already gotten worked up, all antsy inside the van. Their little intervention didn’t do you any favors. Danny steeled himself. They learned something from this. You were going to learn something from this. It had been about a month since they had taken you in, and you still didn’t realize how much they cared for you. He gripped the seat in anger again. Ungrateful brat.

Mickey was grabbing random objects on the other side of the room to electrocute until they were either crispy or ash, the smell of burning filling the room. He threw his debris to the side before continuing on something else. Leonard turned his head towards his teal cohort. “Mickey! Stop that!”

Mickey gave him a death stare, but ceased his violence towards inanimate objects. He slithered over to a chair and crossed his arms, like a kid who was forced to go to their siblings piano recital.

Leonard rubbed his face with his hands. They still needed to take care of you, even if you had run off. What was the point in saving you if they didn’t take care of you afterwards? And besides, the last thing they needed was for you to get sick. Danny was the only one who really knew how to care of a sick person, and he would be fuming at you for a few days, at the very least.

He walked to the counter, taking a TV dinner and shoving it into the microwave. Once it was done, he took it out and walked over to you, pulling up a chair and sitting across from you. He grabbed your shoulder and shook you until your bleary eyes opened to a sliver.

The light was blinding after being stuck in a dark van for so long. You closed them again, but Leonard shook you again.

“Wake up,” He said.

Your entire body felt hot and cold at the same time, truly punctuating your discomfort. You were shivering and your head hurt something awful. Leonard poked a spoon against your lips. “Eat.”

You had refused to eat early in your captivity. It didn’t go well. The thought of having food shoved down your throat made you want to gag, so you opened your mouth and ate the food you were offered. You had to admit, it made you hurt a little less, having something in your stomach. Even if it was a crappy frozen dinner.

Leonard tossed out the plastic container, walked into the bathroom, and closed the door. You could vaguely hear the sound of a sink inside.

Just as you were about to try to sleep off the pain, Danny stood up. You watched him jerk his head towards the bathroom at Mickey, and the eel got up and went in. Danny walked towards you with a purpose in his steps and eyes, and he didn’t stop until he was right in front of you.

“How could you?” He almost whispered, the rage in his eyes apparent. “After everything we’ve done for you, how well we treat you, you still run from us?” He said, his voice raising, “What, do you think we’re not good enough, huh?”

Danny clenched his fists and narrowed his eyes at you. “You selfish, ungrateful brat. We take such good care of you, and you just spit that goodwill back in our face.” He leaned forwards and grabbed your face, his nails digging into your cheeks. “Never do this again. Even think about it, and I’ll show you just how bad I can be.”

You started to sniffle, which turned into full-on sobbing in a matter of moments. Your cries filled Danny with even more rage. How could you be the one crying? He hadn’t even done anything that was worth spilling tears over. He gritted his teeth as his mind went blind with rage. He’d give you something to cry about.

He raised his hand, and brought it down upon your cheek.

Danny took a step back from you as your sobbing stopped for a second, and came back in full force, a bright handprint now on your cheek. A wave of guilt flashed over him, but he turned away from you so he didn’t have to look at your trembling. You deserved it, he told himself over and over.

Leonard and Mickey walk back into the room a moment later, talking in hushed voices. When he hears your crying, Leonard halts and stares at you and the blooming bruise on your cheek. His eyes widen, and Mickey looks back and forth between everyone before grinning.

“Looks like Dan got to them first,” He said, and strolled back to his seat. Leonard turned his gaze on Danny’s back with clenched fists and a twitching eye. “What were you thinking?!” He snaps, “They’re already all cold and roughed up, what if you broke them?!”

Danny scoffs, his gaze focused on the wall and all the guilt seeming to wash away from him. “Oh, please. They’re not made of glass. They deserved it.”

Leonard took a deep breath. “We’ve all had a long night. Don’t make it even longer.”

Danny didn’t respond. Leonard resisted the urge to yell at him. As much as he wanted to, he had to make sure that Danny didn’t do lasting damage. He grabbed an ice pack from the freezer and approached you, pulling up a chair.

He held your chin up with one hand and held the ice pack up to your bruising cheek with the other. By then, your sobbing had turned to quiet hiccups and sniffles, and you were merely shivering instead of shaking like a leaf. Leonard didn’t show it, but concern rose in his chest. You ran, and that deserved consequences, but you were only a human. A tiny human, at that, weak and fragile. He had heard the stories. Humans could die if they went to bed wrong. Unfortunately, his cohorts didn’t know that, if he wasn’t there to stop them, they would’ve already broken you, and then what?

He sighed and looked at you. You diverted your gaze away from him as much as you could with his grip on your face. “Hey,” He almost whispered, “I’ll tell Danny to leave you alone, but if you run again, I might not be able to stop him.”

You finally faced him as he let go of your chin, and nodded. Your cheek flared in pain as it rubbed against the ice pack.

The Mud Dogs loaded into their van again, the approaching dawn apparent. Fresh ropes bound your arms and legs, although the gag wasn’t as tight as to not hurt your cheek. Mickey sat next to you, leaning against the wall. When you looked into the gloomy skies of the yōkai world through your glimpses of the windshield, you imagined the sun shining on your face

Taglist: @yanteetle @oleander-nin

#platonic yandere #yandere rottmnt #yandere tmnt #yandere rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #yandere #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere mud dogs #mud dogs #mud dogs rottmnt #yandere mud dogs rottmnt #yandere mud dogs x reader #platonic yandere mud dogs x reader #mud dogs x reader #platonic mud dogs x reader

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haitani-maki · 2 months

Text

Truth or Dare

English is not my first language so it may contain errors, sorry about that

All characters have 20+

Content +18 MDNI Fem!Reader

After two long weeks of studying that felt like months, you finally got a few days off

Trying to take advantage of the weekend to get out of the house for a bit taking the face out of the books, you decided to go to your old neighbors' party. The Haitani brothers

You had already lost count of how many shots you drink that night

Your head was spinning slightly, your ideas were no longer so clear.

Your friend approaches “Take it easy, I don’t feel like carrying anyone drunk tonight”

"Hey!" You exclaim, noticing your voice more slurred than usual “I can handle it!”

She rolls her eyes at your response and before trying to stop you from drinking more, a circle of friends close to you draw attention and the two of you approach.

“Hey, let’s play truth or dare?” Shion suggests

“I’m in” Kakucho replies

“Okay…” Rindou agrees

"Serious?" Ran asks with a bit of mockery

"I'm in!" You exclaimed excitedly.

"Me too!" Her friend and two other women agree

“I’m in too” Ran suddenly changed her mind

Rindou stares at him in confusion for a moment and Ran gives him a death glare.

"Right!" Shion takes the empty bottle and puts it in the middle of everyone while saying “The classic, I didn’t want to do the challenge or tell the truth, it’s a shot.”

“Let’s go” Rindou is the first to spin the bottle that stopped at Kakucho

“Truth or dare, Kakucho?"

"Truth"

“Is it true that you have already been dominated between four walls ?” Rindou asks smiling

The question surprises everyone

Kakucho closes his eyes for a second “Yes” he responds regretting having told this secret to the Haitani brothers

Before Shion could ask anything Kakucho interrupts him “Only one question” leaving the people around curious and pouting.

"My turn!" Your friend exclaims a little excitedly.

The bottle stopped at Rindou, and she spent the night drooling over him while he controlled the DJ booth, she was going to try her luck now

“Truth or dare, Rindou?”

“Truth” he responds, adjusting his glasses

“Tell two of your fetishes”

He smiles thinking for a moment “Ropes and deep throat”

“Interesting” Her friend responds making Rindou smile at her shameless flirting

“Okay, now it's me” one of the women in the circle exclaims as she spins the bottle falling towards you

"Truth or Dare?"

“I think you all scared, dare!”

The girl, not liking your comment, decided to play dirty “I dare you to choose someone to kiss” she smiles mockingly

Your eyes widen slightly and you shiver as you look around, but specifically one gaze catches you. His gaze seemed to pierce your soul, chills started running through your body, your breathing became irregular as you held his gaze, the desperation in his violet eyes mirrored your own, and him sitting next to you only intensified the situation

“I choose Ran.” You say, making the man with long two-tone hair raise an eyebrow and not be able to contain his smile.

"Are you sure?" The same girl asks you, giving you a deadly look

“Yes” you smile ignoring her look. You were partially excited about that, even though you exchanged more words with Rindou, you and the older Haitani had already seen each other a few times, you two always seemed to accidentally make eye contact whenever you saw each other in the hallway of the old building where you lived in.

Tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear, he leaned in and kissed you. A slow, hot kiss, his teeth nibbling on your bottom lip, you almost melted right then and there at the feeling of his soft lips against yours. Your hands slide to the back of Ran head as he brings his hands to your waist, the grip intensifying. Ran didn't shy from shoving his tongue in your mouth.

The pleasurable sensations you were feeling at that moment, causing a burning in your intimacy, which undoubtedly became soaked

The lascivious smile forming on Ran lips after pulling away from the kiss, made you turn your face in embarrassment.

"I thought you two were going to fuck right here, be careful not to fall in love Y/n" Kakucho says

“I'm fine, I've had better.” You challenge the bicolor, watching a vein pop on his forehead

The people around start teasing

“You haven't seen anything I can do yet, S/n.” He smiles, looking directly into your eyes “How can you say someone else did better?”

“Then show me?” You retort, raising an eyebrow

“Hey, hey, go to the room” Shion interrupts

Ran quickly wets his lips before breaking eye contact and returning his attention to the bottle

You do the same, completely ignoring the furious look the girl had on you. But he can barely focus on the next questions...

The game is interrupted with Rindou having to return to the DJ booth

The first girl walking away furious that she didn't get the older Haitani's attention and the other girl approaching Kakucho

You go to the kitchen to get another drink, still thinking about the feeling of Ran lips pressed against their, imagining what else he could do...

You come out of your daydreams when you see your friend flirting with Rindou from afar, a hand passing through the younger Haitani arm while his hand goes to the girl waist. You laugh when you see that scene...

Going up to the second floor looking for the bathroom, you are grateful that most people have already left, having quick access to the bathroom.

As you leave, you almost bump into Ran “Damn, what a scare!” You take a leap

“I’m not that ugly!” Ran chuckles at his own stupid joke.

"No! It's not that, it's just…” Ran bites her lip and you are temporarily mesmerized by such an act...

“Y/n, be honest”

"What?"

“You liked it, didn’t you?” Ran asks approaching you.

You blink a few times, feeling the cold wall on your back as Ran leans over you a little, resting a hand on the wall beside you.

“I think you know the answer”

“But I want to hear from you”

“Y-Yes” You blush and bite your lip, unable to face him.

Ran caresses your cheek, her gaze alternating between your eyes and your lips. You finally close the distance between you by joining your lips in a slow, hot kiss. The bicolor's hands go down to his waist, bringing their bodies even closer together, his hands slide to the back of his neck.

Ran's hands go down to his ass, squeezing it tightly, making you gasp during the kiss.

The touches, one body so close to the other, each new movement. Everything excited you, feeling your intimacy contract.

Ran hands go down to his thighs, pulling you up, you wrap your legs around his waist, feeling Ran member press against your intimacy.

Breaking the kiss due to lack of air, you feel his mouth on your neck sucking the sensitive skin, making you moan softly.

His kisses went up to his earlobe, lightly biting the area.

“I think we should go to my room” Ran whispers against your skin making you shiver

You nod frantically. Ran holds your waist tightly, bringing their bodies together and heading towards the bedroom. Bringing their lips together again, but this time in a wild and needy kiss.

©Reblogs are welcome, do not copy or translate

@twicescandybong :)

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wispscribbles · 2 months

Note

hi i just discovered your beautiful art so i obviously needed to scroll down your whole blog to catch up on everything you posted haha

i just wanted to say that i got way too emotional after reading that post of yours regarding mw3 and your mental health… on one hand i’m so sorry that you felt that way, but on the other i feel it with my whole heart

ghoap content especially for me helped me these past few months with my mental health in ways i would never have expected, it was my solace and inspiration, i started working out too and got back into drawing, got a lot better at it as well!

but unfortunately i get way too fixated on fictional stuff and there comes a time that my brain switches up and connects the things i liked and comforted me with things that make me extremely uncomfortable and stressed out, especially if i fall down a fandom rabbit hole that i would never have searched up, beacuse i know myself, i know my limits and triggers but i feel like i’m not a part of the fandom if i don’t like and interact with every single headcanon, art and ship

these past days i was really down because of that, and the things i read (why did i do that???) and now when i think of ghoap i think of that stuff and im scared that i alienated myself from the one thing that made me happy

but discovering your art and with that your post reminded me that im not alone in these feelings, even if it’s not the same exactly, and i wanted to thank you, for sharing your thoughts that time i guess haha <33

((sorry for rambling))

Long reply under 'keep reading' !! CW: talk of triggers and MCD

Always feel free to ramble my way!!! How nice you could find some comfort in my art and ghoap stuff. Especially in my mw3 post. I've been considering deleting it a few times, but hearing it maybe helped to read in some way makes me happy I left it up.

I get where you're coming from - I very much use these fictional characters as a safe space, but ppl view them very differently. There's room for it all, "don't like, don't interact" is very much a policy I agree with. It's important to mute words and be aware of your own triggers as you browse stuff in this fandom, because there's such a wide variety of stuff out there. You do NOT have to interact and agree with every thought people have on this ship, that's impossible and super stressful. There's plenty of stuff and headcanons I don't vibe with. There are no 'requirements' that you have to meet in order to enjoy fiction.

It's part of why I enjoy ghoap - that their dynamic resonates and has sparked so much creativity and outlets for so many - but it also means there's gonna be a lot of stuff u don't necessarily agree with or feel comfortable with. For example, a lot of folks use the MCD in mw3 as a way to explore grief, which I think is really cool, but on a bad day that could potentially get my brain in a bad headspace, so I only check out that art and those fics when I feel okay. There's also a bunch of stuff I'd never want to interact with, and that’s fine !!

I'm personally quite vanilla and a sucker for exploring the softer, more domestic aspects of these characters. It's what brings me joy. I know there are parts of this fandom who don’t vibe with what I make at all, and would call it untrue to the characters. Some creators enjoy exploring the more violent or toxic sides to the source material. That's just how it is, we all need different things from fiction. As long as we're capable of chilling in our respective sandboxes, then all's good.

But if you're like me, and enjoy the softer things, then definitely be aware and careful while exploring this ship and fandom. I've seen takes on these characters that are so far removed from how I view them, that they're basically the complete opposite, and it can leave a very bad taste, especially if you're the type to hinge your safe space on fiction.

Just... be mindful of yourself and your potential triggers, be respectful and don't interact with things that make you uncomfortable to the point of feeling unsafe. Shape your own online experience to your best ability.

Hope you're doing okay and still find joy in ghoap <3

#ask #anon ask #long post #mcd #mcd mention #major character death #mw3 spoilers #ish #few extra thoughts in tags:#sry it took a while to respond. i wanted to give a proper answer #hope this makes sense or helps somehow #and if interacting with this fandom continues to have a negative impact on your mental health then take a break #i understand using fiction as an outlet or safe space (i do it) but if the bad starts outweighing the good then try to distance yourself #don't dive into those rabbit holes that u know will make u feel bad #i understand the urge but its so important to protect yourself online #I’m far from an expert on this stuff so this is just my two cents #stay safe!!

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sprout-fics · 9 months

Note

Hi!! I saw that you were taking requests for Gaz and was wondering if we could get more headcanons with him in the Omegaverse or Witcher au? Whichever one you’re feeling! I really enjoy the way you write him and just love it whenever he appears in fanfics. For me he seems like the sweetest of the TF so whenever he comes on screen or appears in a fanfic his presence is super calming? I especially love the way you write him because you put so much effort into writing his character and making sure he’s portrayed well. Love your content and I hope you have a wonderful day✨!

I LOVE Witcher Gaz. I see him as such a knight in shining armor persona, like all the stories of medieval chivalry and honor. Have a quick drabble of a great story idea I had

For @glitterypirateduck's GazFest

The forest is quiet around you as you stand propped at an odd angle amongst the willows, Their long, hanging branches drape like a veil across your bare shoulders, dressed in nothing more than your chemise, exposed to the misty dawn as it rises over the glade. The bark presses harshly against your back, and even as you try to struggle your bindings don’t relent. The hunters who have left you here likely lurk nearby, hidden in the ferns as they await their prey. You can feel your heart race on the underside of your jaw, skin erupting in goosebumps as the chill of sunrise whispers across your flesh.

A sound, quiet, subtle, but one that makes your gaze snap up beyond the curtain of willow branches that hangs as a curtain to shield your form.

“Stay back!” You call desperately, and whatever creature has decided to investigate your strange situation pauses, seemingly concerned. Yet then it continues, and a shape slowly draws closer to the branches before lifting them up to reveal your hostage form.

Not a creature. A man.

You blink in surprise, not expecting to see another hunter this far out into the glade, where you’d been dragged against your will and then set as a prized bait for the thing the hunters seek. The man before you looks just as startled as you do, dark skin covered in dark leather armor, boots muddied, armed to the teeth with a bow, a blade, and a sword at his side. Armed far more than what a typical hunter would be, and you blink again as you realize exactly what he is.

A witcher.

A fearsome, deadly hunter that pursues prey of a different breed, things that would easily devour you and yet pose a meager threat to his strength. Terrifying superhumans designed to kill. Yet as you regard him you take in the softness of his brown eyes, his full, parted lips, and the expression of surprise but concern painted across his gaze.

“Are you alright?” He asks, voice accented in a tongue you recognize. His arm is still holding aloft the branches, allowing soft sunlight to stream through and alight your exposed form. It backlights him in heavenly yellow, and for a moment you think he looks like an angel.

“...You’re not a unicorn.” You breathe in your surprise, and his eyebrows raise in bemusement.

“...No, I’m not.” He replies, and makes to step inside your circle. The branches tickle his broad shoulders where his pauldrons sit. “Is that why you’re here?”

You nod eagerly, making a point to struggle in your bindings that prevent your escape. “They- the hunters. They heard there was a unicorn in this forest. They dragged me out here as bait and then left me.”

The man hums, takes a step towards you. He smells like cloves and the musky scent of pine. You tilt your head to look at him, slouched as you are.

He’s so close.

“Why you?” He asks as he glances around, likely looking for the other hunters, and you feel yourself warm under his question before you mutter your response.

“Sorry?”

“I’m a virgin.” You snap, embarrassed and irritated. It doesn’t seem to surprise him, and you wonder if he knew the answer from the start. Cheeky bastard. Yet he doesn’t comment, choosing instead to examine your bindings. When he draws his blade you gasp in fright, only for him to hold up his hands placatingly.

“Easy, I’m going to cut you free. Is that okay?” He breathes, and he’s so gentle that it makes something flutter in your chest like the slow flap of mourning dove wings. You nod, and one of his gloved hands braces you forward, just enough to bend you so he can reach your wrists, and then the rope at your waist. “There, isn’t that better?”

You nod, feeling your face warm under his stare, ignoring the little ounce of self-satisfaction in his gaze. Yet it morphs into worry as he catches your hand, examines the red ring of rope burns on your wrist.

“How long have you been out here?” He asks gently, eyes soft. Your wrist feels warm under his touch. You tell yourself it’s just your inflamed flesh.

“Since yesterday morning.” You confess quietly.

He looks angry at that, and you realize it’s only on your behalf. You hadn’t asked to be out here, had pleaded the entire journey with the men to not try and kill the creature they were after. It had been to no avail, and they had left you without water or food for a full day in their crazed quest to slay their prize.

“I can’t leave you here.” He mutters, as if to himself, and your heart leaps in your throat. “Can you walk?”

You take a tentative step forward, bare feet brushing the dewey grass. The unsteadiness in your legs flares suddenly, and you stumble forward into him.

“Careful, dove.” He murmurs, and you blink at the endearment, raising your head from where it’s rested, just above his heart, up into his face. He looks a little embarrassed he’s let it slip, and for a moment you want to tell him you don’t mind. Far from it.

Before you can say as much, however, this strange witcher bends to lift an arm under your legs, hauls you up into his arms with superhuman strength. You squeak in surprise, and feel the rumble of his chuckle vibrate in his chest.

He begins walking purposefully away from the glade, and if you listen you can hear the snoring sounds of the hunters dozing in the trees.

“...My name is Kyle.” The witcher holding you offers once you’re past the clearing. “If you’d like, you can call me Gaz.”

Gaz. It suits him, you think. It’s lovely.

“Thank you…Gaz.” You whisper softly, and hope he doesn’t notice when you lean into his warmth to ward off the chill of dawn. You offer your own name, and dart your eyes up to his face to see him smile.

“You know…I actually haven’t seen any unicorns in these woods.” He tells you after a few minutes of walking. You look up at him then curiously, eyes wide as you meet the endearing softness of his brown eyed stare.

“In fact, I think the loveliest creature I’ve seen in these woods is you.”

#gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x you #gaz x female reader #gazfest #gazfest drabbles

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shadowtriovibes · 10 months

Text

your memory is ecstasy

Pairing: Richard Jackdaw x f!MC

Word Count: 2.4k

Rating: E

Warnings: 18+, aged-up characters, explicit sexual content, dirty talk, mutual masturbation, fingering, voyeurism, Sex With A Ghost

Summary: i blame the jackdaw girlies for this one (i love you all). pretty much just a couple thousand words of Sex With A Ghost™

“Someone like me, I can only look,” he tells you softly. “I’ll never touch.” “Looking is something, I suppose,” you reply. “If – if you wanted, I’d let you look.” “You would, hmm?” he murmurs as he leans toward you. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had such a tempting offer. Years, in fact.” “That’s a shame,” you answer as your eyes dart down to his lips. “Let me, then.”

Most of the time, the detention chamber in the dungeons beneath the Great Hall is one of the coldest rooms in the entire castle. On nights like this, however, with countless ghosts congregating just down the hallway, there’s an additional chill in the air.

At Sir Nicholas’ invitation, you’d joined the Headless Hunt for one of their frequent parties deep beneath the castle. Your thoughtful offering of some rotten roast beef from the kitchens had been much appreciated by the men of the Hunt, but it wasn’t long after you arrived that the gaggle of ghostly women in their centuries-old fashions started to draw their eyes toward the dance floor.

One who doesn’t float toward the center of the room is Richard Jackdaw. Instead, he sits in an alcove far away from the ghostly banquet table, and when you make your way over to politely thank him once more for his help in your search back in your fifth year, he invites you to join him for a pint.

“Do the house elves bring you this mead?” you ask curiously, pouring yourself a mugful from a very real bottle on the table.

“I’m not actually sure where it comes from,” he answers. “But whenever a live one such as yourself joins us and pours some, it’s always fun. Makes this wretched dungeon smell a lot more like a real pub.”

“Well, then I’m happy to be of service,” you say as you raise your glass in cheers to him.

The two of you fall into an easy conversation while you drink. You ask him questions about his postmortem adventures with the Hunt, and he listens as you tell him about your more recent explorations along the Clagmar Coast.

“May I ask, what does your Slytherin paramour think about all this adventuring?” he asks you with a cheeky grin. “I see you didn’t bring him this evening.”

“O-oh, we’re not – I’m not courting anyone,” you quickly explain. “We’re just friends.”

“I think that may be news to the poor young man,” Richard laughs. “But I’ll take your word for it.”

Eventually, the more boisterous members of the Hunt kick up a frenzy as they argue over the outcome of their latest journey to the Forbidden Forest, challenging each other to duels with their transparent swords drawn.

“What do you say we continue this conversation somewhere a bit quieter?” Richard offers. “I’ve no interest in participating in yet another pointless skirmish.”

“I know a place,” you offer, and moments later he joins you in the detention chamber, luckily devoid of any delinquent students at this late hour.

As you place an anti-unlocking charm on the door, you call out, “I suspect you probably spent many hours here as a student.”

“Guilty as charged,” he laughs.

You take a seat in the middle of the room on the cold tile floor. Compared to the ghosts’ party, this room feels several degrees warmer, and the cool stones feel quite nice against your palms as you sit cross-legged across from Richard, who floats a few millimeters above the ground.

“They’ve been particularly restless lately,” he says apologetically, nodding in the direction of the dungeon party. “Always trying to show off, especially when one of the most beautiful living girls in the castle chooses to grace us with her presence.”

You blush softly and duck your head.

“I could watch you blush all day,” he says boldly. “What a breathtaking thing it is to blush — to be alive, really.”

Suddenly you can understand how Richard earned himself his reputation as a shameless rake in his time.

“Were you this flirtatious during your time?” you ask him, unable to hide your grin. “You and your Apollonia?”

He snorts derisively. “Apollonia was never mine, in any sense of the word.”

That makes you pause, curious.

“Richard,” you ask softly. “Have you ever… when you were alive, were you ever, er – with a woman?”

“Was I with a woman?” he asks, bemused. “Do you mean in the company of women? Quite a few, as it happens.”

“No,” you say, laughing nervously. “I – I meant, did you ever know a woman? Biblically.”

You’re thankful that the semi-darkness of the room hides how your blushing cheeks go even redder.

“Ah,” he murmurs. “You mean sexually.”

“I do,” you whisper. “It’s… just that you seem–”

“I wasn’t,” Richard interjects. “In my time, a century ago now, it wasn’t appropriate. I hadn’t married, I wanted to finish school first, and… and I thought I’d have plenty of time.”

“You should have,” you say softly.

“That’s my own damn fault,” he says with a rueful grin. “But it’s neither here nor there. To answer your question, I never had any relations with a woman. I’d wanted to, especially with Apollonia, and in a vague sense with plenty of gorgeous women I knew back then.”

You shift a bit, drawing your knees closer together. “So, you… you never even saw a woman?”

Richard purses his lips. “Well, I shan’t say that.”

“Oh?” you ask.

“Being a ghost does come with some perks,” he teases. “Over the years I’ve drifted in and out of countless spaces that amorous couples thought would be private. I’ve even been invited into some such spaces by curious schoolgirls like you.”

“Richard!” you squawk. “You’ve had affairs with students?!”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” he teases you. “Darling, you’re hardly the first witch to develop a crush on this ill-fated adventurer.”

You pout and lean in closer. The cold emanating from his body is strange, but not unwelcome.

“Someone like me, I can only look,” he tells you softly. “I’ll never touch.”

“Looking is something, I suppose,” you reply. “If – if you wanted, I’d let you look.”

“You would, hmm?” he murmurs as he leans toward you. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had such a tempting offer. Years, in fact.”

“That’s a shame,” you answer as your eyes dart down to his lips. “Let me, then.”

Richard watches you with dark eyes as you carefully stand up from the floor. He tugs his ascot loose while you slip your dress up over your head, and he smiles amusedly when you tap the tip of your wand against your back to make your corset go slack.

“If there’s a silver lining to becoming a ghost,” he drawls, “it’s that I’ve been given the chance to see how fashion for you witches has become more and more revealing over the years.”

“I’ve heard Muggle women are bringing up their skirts higher and higher,” you tease him, mimicking your words by pulling the slip of your chemise up to the tops of your thighs.

As you tug the garment up over your head and let it fall to the ground, Richard sits back on his hands and nods toward his lap – a blatant invitation. While you can’t actually sit, you’re able to kneel across his opaque form as if you were straddling him. The cold emanating from his body isn’t bothersome like this, you think; it’s more like a soothing balm, against your skin where you’re radiating heat.

“Can you feel that?” you ask him softly. “Where I’m warm?”

“No,” he tells you, and it’s the first time you’ve seen him look downcast all evening. “But I can see you.”

With your pile of clothes happily abandoned, you’re fully nude straddling his form. Where other men might ordinarily put their hands on you, you’re left wanting for touch. Nevertheless his pale eyes roam over your form and fill you with a heat that seems inconceivable given his ghostly pallor.

“Lovely,” he says appraisingly. “What I’d give to feel you, feel the weight of you on top of me.”

“Richard,” you sigh happily. “Tell me more.”

“Hmm, what should I tell you?” he wonders aloud. “Would you think me wicked if I told you how much I wish I could press my lips to your breast until you’re writhing in my lap?”

“No,” you whine. “No, I wouldn’t, I want you to.”

“Touch yourself, then,” he instructs.

Richard groans under his breath while you cup your breasts in your hands, tracing your thumbs across your hardening nipples until they peak so temptingly just in front of his mouth. You know you’re getting wet between your thighs, and you wonder what will happen when your arousal becomes so much that you threaten to drip – ordinarily you’d simply stain your lover’s trousers with it, but this time you suspect you’ll leave a filthy mess on the floor.

The thought makes you squirm and moan.

“That’s it,” Richard murmurs. “Now, do you like touching yourself elsewhere, dear one?”

“Yes,” you admit with a shy smile. “Though now every time I do, I’ll imagine a deviant ghost may be watching me.”

“You won’t need to imagine,” he says cheekily. “Will you show me?”

You sit back on your heels before sitting down on the cold floor, letting your legs spread while you prop yourself up with one hand. Your other hand traces down the front of your body to the apex of your thighs. When you touch your entrance and discover how slick you are already, you shiver.

“Merlin’s beard,” he grits out. “Your cunt looks positively greedy. I’m sure you’d take me so well, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” you keen, hungrily eyeing his translucent hand as he reaches toward your body.

Richard scoffs under his breath. “Men like Nicholas, the others in the Hunt, they’ve had actual lifetimes to enjoy the body of a woman.”

You shiver as he traces his fingertips along the inside of your thigh, goosebumps rising in the wake of his supernaturally chilling, yet not-quite-there touch.

“They’ve had conquests, they’ve had… love, I suppose,” he continues. “But not me.”

“Richard,” you whimper, high and needy and utterly shameless.

“And now, they spend their days and nights trying to coax you sweet, obliging little schoolgirls into bringing them rotten meats,” he says, a derisive sneer on his lips. “As if we even have appetites for food anymore. Trust me, lovely, that sort of thing fades.”

He shifts closer while you rub slow circles over your clit, watching how your mouth falls open in pleasure.

“But this, this never fades,” Richard confesses. “If I could put my lips to your skin and taste you here.. Darling, I’d sooner starve rather than chase the taste of anything else on my tongue.”

“Come closer,” you plead. “Just – as close as you can.”

You sit back on one elbow and keep your other hand between your thighs. With your fingers you spread yourself open, gasping softly as the cold air reaches the sensitive skin near your entrance.

“Bloody hell,” he grumbles. “You’re a fierce temptress, love.”

He leans in close to the apex of your thighs — so close that the tip of his nose could trace along the delicate crease of your hip, if he could truly lay his hands on your skin.

“I could swear I can smell you,” he says in a low voice. “Merlin, you smell like… like musk, and sweat, and skin. Sex. All this humanity, I could get drunk on it.”

“I wish you could taste me,” you confess. “I wish you’d put your tongue on me – in me, even.”

“I would,” he tells you. “I’d pleasure you however I could, with my mouth or my hands or… Anything you like, I’d give it to you.”

You slide two fingers inside yourself, curling them inward and whimpering as you press against the sensitive spot deep inside you that makes you wail when you’re alone in your bed, Muffliato cast to keep your roommates none the wiser.

“I want to see you,” you admit to him. “C-can you – are you able to…?”

“Yes,” he tells you. “Yes, I can touch myself. Shall I show you?”

You grind the heel of your palm against your clit while Richard opens the front of his trousers. When he sits back on his knees between your thighs, he lets you take a look at his hard length.

“Merlin, I want to touch you,” you sigh. “Or taste you.”

Richard smirks at you as he starts to slowly stroke himself. “I’ll have you know, I used to wonder whether women craved men’s bodies the way we so desperately crave yours. Women in my time would never dream of admitting it, but you nineteenth-century girls are so… eager.”

For a while you both fall silent, letting the other watch while you bring yourselves pleasure with your hands. Richard’s eyes are fixed firmly on your entrance as you pump two and eventually three fingers inside yourself, desperate moans tumbling from your lips. While he watches, he fucks his hand in time with your movements. What little you can see of his core is taught and well defined, and you think it’s an unbearable shame that he was killed before he had the chance to use his body for what it seems to so clearly have been built for.

“Please,” you beg, for nothing in particular. “Please, Richard.”

“Go on, love,” he grunts. He sounds for all the world like one of today’s wizards – alluring, commanding, firm. “Show me, I want to see you let go.”

You collapse onto your back as your orgasm is wrenched from you, arching against the stone while you buck against your hand and, as you’d predicted, leave a telltale mess on the ancient floor. Richard leans over you and drags his eyes down the length of your body before squeezing them shut and coming into his hand with a broken moan.

(There’s no mess from him, which isn’t really a surprise, but is still dissatisfying.)

After you’ve both redressed and have found a new spot on the floor to sit side by side, you ask him, “Is it… when you, er, climax, is it as good as when you were alive?”

“Quite honestly, I can’t remember,” he says with a laugh. “I suspect the answer is no, but since it’s been so long, I’m content with what I’ve got.”

“So what you’re saying is that we could do this again?” you ask with a teasing smile. “Perhaps tomorrow night, after everyone’s gone to bed…?”

“I’ll come find you,” he promises you with a matching grin on his lips. “Of course, you needn’t wait for me to get started, should you feel inspired.”

You whisper back, “If fact, I may do just that.”

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fic #hogwarts legacy smut #richard jackdaw #richard jackdaw x reader #richard jackdaw x you #richard jackdaw x mc #my fic #GHOST SEX LET'S GOOOOOO

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feligamifebruary · 4 months

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Parisiens, Parisiennes, dragons and birds of all horizons,

Feligami February is fast approaching, and you may already be thinking of the wonderful art you will bestow upon us throughout the month. It will be our pleasure to share your creations on this blog, and archive them in case our timeline gets erased.

I sense that, like Felix, you have an inquisitive mind. Fear not, for we have prepared a helpful FAQ below:

1. Tell me about the event!

As I’m sure you’ve guessed, Feligami February is a month-long fandom event dedicated to our favourite lovebirds. The principle is simple: to tickle your brains (and hearts!) with our prompts, so you are inspired to create the content you want to see on Tumblr on AO3.

Any and all creative media are welcome: art, fics, AMVs, playlists, cosplays, moodboards, web weaves… No rules and no amoks shall get in your way.

2. Sounds fun! How do I join?

Simply upload your creation(s) to the #feligami february and #feligami february 2024 tags, and make sure to tag this blog. This will ensure we spot your work, as easily as Felix spotted the Peacock Miraculous under Gabriel’s tie.

3. I’m not sure I can cover all 29 prompts, or post on time. Can I still participate?

Of course! The entire point of this event is to have fun. Don’t overwork yourself.

4. I have an idea, but it doesn’t align with any of the prompts. Can I still post it?

Please do! The prompts are here for inspiration, not to suffocate you. Break your chains.

5. Are poly ships allowed?

Absolutely, as long as they include Feligami and exclude any incest and/or pedophilia.

6. What about smut?

Given the age of the characters and the target audience of the show, we will not be allowing any form of smut as part of this event. Similarly, NSFW content will not be allowed in our Discord community (more on that below).

7. What about angst?

Go ahead! Please make sure to tag potentially triggering content to keep the event safe and enjoyable for everyone.

8. The creative process can be a bit lonely. Where can I meet other cool, motivated, brilliant Feligami creators like myself?

Fear not, for we have you covered. By joining our dedicated Discord server, you will get the chance to hang out with fellow Feligami fans, share your ideas, and take a peek at the amazing content coming your way. Think of it as our own little window, on which we all draw hearts for each other.

If you’d like to join, please follow this link to the art room, where you will not be subjected to a creepy, hallucination-based play.

9. You guys sound cool! Where can I find your work?

🐈‍⬛ Paracosmicat (any pronouns)

The best Adrien expert there is, and a reference for all Manon-is-Lila conspiracists. They are also the instigator of this beautiful adventure!

Tumblr | AO3 | Senticousins sideblog

🕊️ Nina (she/her)

Thinker of thoughts and rotater of blorbos. Our marketing and communications expert.

Tumblr | AO3 | Senticousins sideblog

🧬 Helix (she/her)

Artist extraordinaire, romance lover, and our much needed IT expert. If this blog doesn’t explode by the end of the month, it will be exclusively thanks to her.

Tumblr | AO3

Without further ado, we wish you all a lot of fun, inspiration, and bone-chilling musical numbers! 🎶

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug #felix graham de vanily #argos #flairmidable #kagami tsurugi #ryuko #feligami #feligami february 2024 #feligami february

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k-evans-reads · 1 year

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In Living Color

Chapter 8

Summary: When Natalie Marton, lead character designer for Buzz Lightyear, meets the voice of Buzz, Chris Evans, the sparks are undeniable. But when their work pushes them away from each other, both physically and emotionally, will the sheer differences between their worlds be enough to force them apart?

Pairing: Chris Evans x Pixar Animator OFC Natalie Marton

Word Count: 4,256

By: @k-evans-writes and @ourfinest-hour

We do NOT give permission for our works to be reuploaded, translated, or reposted on any other site. Our work is our own.

Warnings: Sexual content. 18+ ONLY. MINORS DNI! We block minors!

Previous | Main Masterlist | In Living Color Masterlist

June 14th, 2021

Nat rubbed her eyes with a yawn as she listened to the phone ring, hoping she wouldn’t wake him before he had planned on getting up for the evening’s night shoots. As the call continued to ring she contemplated hanging up and just texting him instead, but Chris answered. “Happy day after your birthday,” she laughed, smiling widely as he chuckled, his voice raspy with sleep. “Feel old yet?”

“Based on how sore I’ve been all week, I think I’ve felt old for a while now,” he groaned, making Nat laugh a little, although she knew it was the truth. He’d been hard at work the past few weeks, busy with stunt sequences she couldn’t even picture in her mind based on the vague descriptions he’d shared. “Turning forty is just the nail in the coffin.”

She tutted, telling him, “Well you don’t look a day over thirty-nine.”

He scoffed, his voice unconvincing as he replied, “Thanks, that really makes me feel a lot better, Nat.”

“How was your birthday?”

“It was fine, just was on set all day. I got to talk to Ma and my sisters and my nephews and niece sang to me which was fuckin’ cute,” he informed her, but then paused as he yawned. “Then I also got this really incredible drawing of Buzz Lightyear with Dodger in place of Sox.”

She smirked, having been waiting for his reaction to that gift in particular. “Oh did you?” She asked, her voice plain.

“Yeah, this really talented artist I know made it for me,” he played along. “I think she might know that I love handmade gifts, and this is my favorite gift I’ve gotten in a long time.”

Her heart skipped a beat at the praise, wanting nothing more than to be there with him, especially on his special week. “I’m really glad you liked it,” she told him quietly.

Chris’ voice was anything but teasing when he interjected, “I like you a lot more.”

Nat sighed, the longing only intensifying the more he spoke and shared what he’d been feeling. “...I wish it wasn’t another month until I see you,” she murmured, unable to stop imagining that day in July when he finally arrived back in California to see her.

“Me too, Nat,” he whispered back, the rasp in his voice sending a chill down her spine. “So what are you doing today?”

“Just going to work. I’m meeting with some of the animators and they’re going to show me some of the chunks of Lightyear that’s done,” she shrugged to herself before she yawned quietly, the early hour something she wasn’t used to lately. “I’ll send you some videos.”

“You better!” He laughed, and it did nothing to quell the emotions she felt. “I was wondering if you were going in early… normally you’re still asleep now.”

But Nat shook her head, more to herself than to anyone, as she unplugged her phone from the charger and moved to lay on her back again. “I couldn’t sleep so I figured I’d just call you instead,” she informed him.

“I’m glad you did. I’m still in bed too,” he mumbled, then paused while Nat stayed quiet and didn’t make any noise of acknowledgement. “...You okay, Nattie?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she explained, then bit her lip before she decided to just go for it, not being able to hold back her emotions any longer. “It’s just that it’s cold in bed and I’m alone and I’m not getting touched by you and I miss your kisses, and I miss you.”

She could hear his sharp intake of breath and a muffled sound as the blankets moved around him, then Chris told her with a low voice, “There’s nothing I’d rather be doing right now than have my hands on you.”

She all but shivered then, her voice unsteady as her longing turned into desire. “That makes two of us,” she replied.

“I wish I was in bed next to you right now, Nattie,” he told her, his voice clear as she switched the call to speaker, putting the phone down on the bed next to her “I wish I could hold you tight and kiss every inch of you.”

“Chris…”

He was quiet, and the only sound that filled the room were Nat’s deep pants until he finally asked, “...Do you want me to stop?”

“No.”

“Nattie, I want you to touch yourself for me,” he instructed, his voice dangerously low as Nat’s fingers moved instinctively. “God, you have no idea how many times I’ve dreamt of you.”

She nearly whimpered at a twist of her finger, unable to focus on anything except the sound of his voice and the touch of her hand. “I wish you were the one touching me,” she admitted with a whine.

He chuckled, and Nat could nearly picture the devilish smirk on his face when he told her, “That makes two of us.”

Her head flew back against the pillow, jaw dropping as she let out a moan then said, “I can’t wait until you’re back.”

“I want to be with you right fuckin’ now,” he muttered, pausing as he shifted on the other end of the call, then told her, “I want to be the one touchin’ you, Nattie.”

She couldn’t catch her breath for a few moments, feeling something build inside her. “You will be,” she whimpered as she slipped another finger inside of herself.

“I wanna be kissin’ you and suckin’ on your neck that had you moaning that last night,” he rambled, voice sending waves of electricity through Nat and spurring her on. “I want my fingers to be the ones inside you. I wanna grab that pretty ass of yours, Nattie.”

“Chris,” she moaned, unable to stop the nearly incoherent sounds from pouring out of her.

He groaned on the other end of the call, silent until he ground out, “You like thinking of me touchin’ you, Nattie?”

“God, yes,” she replied, wishing so badly that she could touch him, picturing the tattooed chest in her mind, with the chain dangling between his pecs as his hands moved over and in her.

A low, dangerous chuckle spilled from his lips before he admitted, “I can’t wait until I get to have my hands all over you. I’m going to need to take my time with you when I get back.”

She whimpered as she hit that spot inside of her, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment before she instructed, “You better.”

“God, your moans are so pretty, Nat. I’m goin’ crazy thinking of you laying in bed touchin’ yourself for me,” he moaned himself, his voice sounding strained as he panted. “Fuck, Nattie, I want you so bad.”

“I just,” she moaned, unable to catch her breath. “I need, oh!”

“I know you’re close, Nattie. Keep touchin’ yourself for me,” he all-but ordered, Nat following his instructions without hesitation as her fingers moved, pushing her closer and closer to the edge until she hit her peak. “I can’t wait until those are my fingers inside you makin’ you moan like this. Can’t fuckin’ wait to memorize the way you look coming apart for me.”

But Nat couldn’t even respond for a moment as she layed in bed panting, her lungs trying to catch her breath while she felt her body relaxing into the sheets as she came down from her high. Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment, just relishing in the feelings washing over her body until Chris’ low voice asked from the other end of the line, “Feelin’ good, Nattie?”

“That was a good way to wake up,” she couldn’t help but laugh, running a hand through her sweat-soaked curls.

He huffed, letting out a small sigh as he stretched. Nat ached again to be next to him, to feel his muscles behind her as he agreed, “You’re telling me.”

“Chris?” She asked, voice small. She paused until he hummed, then told him, “I really miss you.”

Chris let out another laugh, voice dripping with sarcasm as he said, “I could tell.”

“That’s not what I meant, asshole,” she rolled her eyes, listening fondly at his laughter. “I mean that I really just… miss you.”

“I miss you too, Nattie. I really do,” he assured her, his tone serious this time.

She listened to his breathing, almost able to pretend he was there next to her if she closed her eyes. “Only one more month,” she said, more to herself than anything.

“One more month.”

Chris listened to what Joe was telling him before the director stepped back up to the monitor, watching through the last scene again. The directors motioned for the actors to take fifteen while they got ready to rerun the last take, so Chris gladly took the chance to sit down.

It’d been a long few weeks away from home – away from everyone except for Scott – and while he was having fun on his first big project since he left Marvel, he was still finding it hard to get back into the rhythm of shooting after traveling so much, and after his unexpected break in 2020.

With a quiet thanks to Scott as his brother – and assistant, as much as Scott hated the title – handed him a water bottle, he listened as Scott quietly told him, “Hey Chris, Nat texted me and said she’s trying to get a hold of you.”

“Okay, I’ll call her,” he nodded, a little confused at what was up. Nat always respected when he was working, careful to not text more than once or twice without a reply when he was on set. But to go through Scott made him worried, although he did remind himself that it was likely just something funny or lighthearted… or Nat thinking about earlier. “Do you have my phone?”

Scott nodded, digging into his pocket and pulling out Chris’ old iPhone. “Yeah here you go,” he paused, handing the phone to Chris. He was quiet as Chris turned on the screen, taking in the several missed calls and notifications from her. “She left you a voicemail too.”

He thanked Scott and got up, heading off the set to near where the trailers were. He quickly dialed her number, thankful when she answered and told her, “Hi Nattie.”

“Hey I’m sorry to bug you while you’re working, I’m just so upset,” she explained, pausing and leading Chris to worry even more. “I went to the gym and my car got stolen.”

He honestly couldn’t have even dreamed of that being the subject of her displeasure, instead imagining a shitty work day or some stupid argument with her sisters. But he realized there was no way Nat could even get by for a week with no car, especially with her schedule. To get a rideshare onto the Pixar Campus would be challenging enough, and for someone like Nat, it’d be a cause of anxiety. But his fears didn’t stop there, instead he was uncomfortable with the knowledge that someone hurt her, even indirectly, and took something from her. She took so much pride in that car, loving it so much, and it was something he always associated with her – that orange SUV was literally the love of her life. “What?!”

“My car got stolen,” she repeated, sniffling before she cursed to herself. “I was at the gym and when I came out there was broken glass on the ground and my car was gone.”

“Nat, are you okay?” He asked, louder than he intended.

He didn’t even realize Scott had made his way over until he felt a tap on his shoulder, and he spun around to look at his worried face as he asked, “What’s going on?”

“Nat’s car got stolen,” he told Scott quietly, then stared in front of him and repeated, “Are you okay, Nat? Where are you now?”

“I’m at home. I’m okay, I’m just really frustrated,” she admitted, groaning out in annoyance.

He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, quiet as he thought for a moment. “Did you already report it to the police?” He asked her, his voice lower.

“Yeah I called them and they came to the gym and filed a report,” she explained, then let out a bitter laugh. “As sad as I am about my car, I’m almost more annoyed I left my purse in the car because I had to go get my spare key from Mark so driving in rush hour traffic to his house probably made me more annoyed than anything.”

But Chris felt his heart all but stop at her brief expansion of the story, realizing one key detail from it. “Your purse was in the car?” He asked her slowly.

“I had left it but-”

“Nat, you need to go to my house,” he rushed out, motioning for Scott to hand him his phone.

“What? Why?”

He let out a short breath, then explained, “If they have your purse they have your keys, driver’s license, and your work ID and everything.”

“I know but they can’t get onto campus because my work badge has my picture,” she informed him, her voice a little frustrated. “And they don’t know where I live.”

“Yes they do, it’s on your license and car registration,” he reminded her. He was terrified at the thought of Nat in that apartment, alone with an already questionable door, while some assholes had not only her address, but her keys as well. It was asking for trouble and he couldn’t let her mess with her own safety like this. “Nattie, this is really bad.”

But Nat was nothing if not stubborn and independent, and it showed when she replied, “I’m sure they ditched my purse and just wanted the car.”

“But you don’t know that,” he tried to reason, already searching for security camera companies on Scott’s phone, trying to get someone to go to her apartment. “Nattie, I really want you to go stay at my house.”

She sighed in frustration, telling him, “Chris, I’m sure it’s fine. I doubt they even found my keys with how messy my purse is.”

“Look, Nat, I’m not trying to freak you out but I’m really worried about someone having the keys to your apartment. I don’t want anything to happen to you,” he admitted, closing his eyes as he imagined the worst possible outcome. “Please go spend the night at my house, just for tonight. I need to know that you’re safe.”

Nat was quiet for a few moments, enough that he almost thought she was finally getting it – getting how fucking terrified this made him – until she quietly protested, “I’m sure I’ll be okay.”

“Nattie… please? For me?” He nearly whispered, jaw clenched.

He focused on every tiny noise from her end of the call, the short huff of breath and sigh before she finally agreed, “...Okay, but only if you’re sure.”

“I’m texting you the code right now,” he told her, pulling the phone away and sending her the code to his garage and gate. “And Nat, I’m going to have someone come and change your locks and put up some security cameras at your apartment. I’ll have Scott set it up and let you know when they’re coming.”

“You really don’t need to do that, Chris,” she murmured, voice small.

“Trust me, there’s no way I’ll sleep if I don’t,” he confessed, a short laugh almost escaping him before he heard something behind him near the set, then Scott tapped his shoulder and motioned that it was time to resume filming again. “Hey, I’ve got to get back to set, but promise me you’ll leave right now and text me when you get to my house.”

He could hear her phone buzz as the text arrived, along with another right after it. “I’m grabbing my backpack right now and I’ll call Mark or Jamie to give me a ride,” she told him, her voice slightly muffled as she moved around her apartment.

“Okay, I’ve got to go back to set but I’ll call you as soon as I’m done,” he murmured, waving his hand as a PA started motioning him over. “And will you text Scott when you get to my place?”

“I promise I will,” she assured him, sounding a little less frustrated and upset… finally.

They both shared their goodbye’s before Chris clicked the red button on the phone and let out a long sigh to try to relieve the tension that he’d been holding in his body. A hand came up to scratch at his beard while Scott put a hand on his shoulder as he commented, “That didn’t sound good.”

“It’s not. Nat’s keys and everything were in her purse that she left in the car,” he told his brother, shaking his head as they made their way back on set and he handed Scott his phone. “Scott, I found a security camera company here, can you call them and have them go install cameras at Nat’s place? And then also call somewhere and get someone to go change her locks? I think you already have my wallet so you can use my card.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Scott promised, already tapping away at his phone. “And I’ll let you know when she texts me.”

Chris nodded, mind racing as he told him, “Let me know as soon as you can.”

Chris glanced over at the director who was waving him over incessantly now, and he patted Scott’s shoulder to silently say thank you before jogging back over to the camera. He got into position, but while they adjusted the lighting, he couldn’t help but find his mind wandering. He’d known Nat since February and had found that in that time, she’d slipped into his life so effortlessly, ever since that first day he’d seen her crashing into the glass door of that Pixar conference room.

But this was a wake up call for him. He knew he liked Nat, but for the first time he recognized just how deep he’d fallen in for her without even realizing it. The thought of anything even remotely happening to her was almost too much to bear. Thinking of Nat being upset about her car, let alone the thought that something bad happening to her made him sick to his stomach and longing to jump on a plane right then and there to go back to her. He couldn’t stand the thought of not having her and that was something he was finally starting to realize.

He’d known for a long time that he was interested in her. Nat had intrigued him with her humor, talent, and confidence, but the more he’d gotten to know her, the more he’d found things that he loved about her. She was so sensitive and touched by everything. She was down to earth and didn’t take herself too seriously. But she was vulnerable and a straight shooter, she wasn’t afraid of emotions and didn’t mind sharing them and that was something he hadn’t experienced in the same way. She seemed to calm him and ground him in a way he wasn’t used to, he simply just loved talking to her and being with her and the longer he was away, the more he recognized just how absolutely head over heels he was for her.

But it wasn’t an infatuation, or just some fling. He wasn’t interested in her for a good time or just for her looks, or even just someone to fill his time with as he’d done before. He truly just liked her and there was something about this that just felt… different. And once that next scene finished and Scott hurried over to tell him that Nat had texted and was at his house, he finally could breathe a little easier.

Chris was thankful for the distraction of filming to get his mind off of his worries but still was calling Nat the moment the filming for the entire evening was over. He gave her the rundown of when all the people were coming to get her new locks and install the security cameras but made her promise to spend another night in his house since everything wouldn’t be installed until the following evening and he swore just hearing that one soft, “Thank you for taking care of me, Chris,” and he wanted nothing more in that moment to just hold her in his arms and protect her from all the things of the world that Nat was too caught up in her beautiful artistic outlook of the life to see.

That feeling lingered in his heart as he went to his trailer, taking a warm long shower after filming and getting changed before he and Scott headed back to the hotel. His schedule was so mixed up with all these night shoots and he was getting ready to pull all the curtains to block out the sunrise when his phone started ringing. Assuming that it would be Nat, he quickly grabbed the phone and answered without even looking at the screen first.

“Hello, is this Chris?”

Chris frowned for a moment, his brain frantically trying to figure out who’s voice it was but came up with no answer and instead just replied, “Yes it is.”

“Hi Chris, this is Eric Marton, Nat’s dad. We met for just a minute a while ago when I was in California visiting Nattie,” the voice on the other end filled him in before supplying, “She gave me your number.”

Just the mention of Nat made a smile cross his lips and he instantly relaxed while moving around the room to toss a sweatshirt from the bed over to a nearby chair, “Yeah, I remember. It’s nice to talk to you again, Eric.”

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m calling you but I wanted to call to thank you.”

“Thank me?” His nose scrunched up at the thought, not having a clue what Nat’s father would want to thank him for.

He heard Eric clear his throat before the explanation came,“Nat told me about everything that happened with her car and that you had her go stay at your house and got all her locks changed.”

“I just couldn’t sleep knowing that someone had the keys to her apartment,” Chris simply stated, knowing that it was the truth. He put the phone on speaker and tossed it on the bed while he started peeling down his jeans to get ready for bed and went on telling Eric that, “Nat seemed to think that they just wanted the car but I was just so worried. I didn’t want anything to happen to her.”

“I know you didn’t, and I just had to call to say thank you,” his voice was soft and full of emotion, so much like Nat’s when her feelings were at the forefront. “I hope it doesn’t make me sound like too much of a crazy overprotective father calling about his 33 year old daughter, but I just love her so much and I worry about her.”

Chris just laughed softly while climbing into bed, grabbing the phone and holding it with one hand while the other came behind his head as he propped himself up against the pillows. He knew what it was like to be worried about the people he loved, especially his family, and he knew that with Nat’s mother having been gone for almost her entire life, it was natural Eric would feel a little more protective and worried about his girls. But Chris found it anything but odd, instead finding it so endearing and loving the fact Nat had people in her life who loved her so deeply and told Eric, “I don’t think it sounds crazy at all. I’m so close with my family so I get being worried about them.”

“I know that Nat can take care of herself, she’s certainly not helpless by any means,” Eric stopped to laugh, making Chris chuckle as well from knowing just how true that was. “But it’s nice to know that she has someone else looking out for her and taking care of her,”

“Well Eric, I couldn’t agree with you more in the fact that Nat can take care of herself, but I don’t want her to always have to,” he knew how much he meant it. He didn’t want Nat to have to do everything alone and he wanted to do what he could to protect and care for her. “Besides, my Ma would be the first to say that I’m a bit of a control freak and anxious to a fault, so I couldn’t relax until I knew she was somewhere safe.”

Chris smiled as Eric laughed at those words, knowing so badly that it just felt… right. And as they hung up and Chris went through the motions of getting ready for bed, he remembered how strange this stage of relationships used to feel, the awkward not-quite-dating yet stage before the we’re-doing-this one, but with Nat it all felt new and exciting. He didn’t dread returning to Los Angeles next month like he typically did, all because of her, his Nattie. He couldn’t wait to see her again, to hold her in his arms, and he couldn’t help but look at the clock as he laid in bed, counting down the hours in his mind until they were back together as he fell asleep.

A/N: Genuinely.... we love them. And if you don't believe us, we wrote 62.5k words for them by the end of November. 🌯 is currently typing this on 11/30/2022, and we just cannot stop! We hope you love this, future-readers! Can't wait to read all your thoughts :)

ALSO We’re going to start posting updates TWICE A WEEK! So now every Monday and Thursday there will be an update!

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 years

Text

Days of Splendour

Sequel to Marriage of Inconvenience, Acts of Atonement, and Memories of Misdeed

Warnings: this fic includes dark content including rape/noncon, marital discord/neglect, cheating, and other potential triggering elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You face the fall out of your confession.(Regency AU)

Characters: Clark Kent, Bruce Wayne

Note: You can imagine any Bruce you want. I hate Affleck so I went for Christian Bale in my head but to each their own. I pictured Cavill because uhhhh yes, but hey if you wanna go with Brandon Routh that’s chill af, or Tom Welling.

And here’s the unexpected sequel.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like Humpty Dumpty love falling off walls. Take care. 💖

Bruce stares at you. The confusion that glimmers in his eyes startles you, dismays you. Your heart clenches tightly as you can hardly stand on your own. You could bear the years of neglect stabbing into you like a dagger but you cannot bear any hurt you could cause him.

“Tell me,” he utters in a brittle tone, Kent’s laughter tapers off into raspy snorts.

You gulp and quiver as you cross your arms, not comforting yourself, bracing yourself. You must tell him. To be done with it. So that you may face his wrath and your fate as a fallen woman.

You sniff and bring a glove up to wipe your nose, your other hand firmly on your elbow. “The night of the fair…”

“Oh go on, regale him with how I thrilled you,” Clark bolsters from below, a smooth strike with the shove snaps his head back. You wince at how his skull hits the floor and he groans into a slurred grumble, “Wayne, you…”

He does not finish as you sway, staring at the silver shovel, almost hoping he swings it at you next. You fold your hands over your chest and shudder as the memories swells in your stomach, threatening to revolt as bile rises up your throat.

“Upon our journey back to this manor, Lord Kent… I… in the carriage we… were unfaithful,” you push the words out with a breath and cannot inhale again, dizzy as you stumble, turning to press your hand to the window and stay upright, “I’m sorry, husband, I am unworthy of you and all you’ve provided me.” You press your hand to your stomach, the tight stay making it hard to take in air, “I only ever want to please you but I have committed a crime which no wife could be forgiven–”

A soft nudge quiets your sobs, you wiggle your nose as you glance over, Bruce stands in smeared hues behind the wall of your tears. He stops your hand as you go to flick away the droplets from your cheeks, instead wrapping your fingers around the shovel. He steps close, so close you can smell the citrusy scent of his cologne.

“Go on,” he urges.

“What–” you quiver as you try to pull away, try to release the shovel but he holds it in your grasp.

“He deserves it, and you should be the one to deliver it upon him,” Bruce’s deep timbre sinks into you. You’ve never heard that tone from him before. It’s dangerous and dark. “So go, lay upon him the wrongs he’s done to you.”

You swallow and sniffle, more tears spring out in your shock. You shake as you reach for his other arm. “Please, husband, I cannot–”

“Why?” It’s a genuine question, as if the thought of violence would be natural.

“I… am not… cannot…hurt him. Or anyone…” you flutter your lashes as you try to see him clearly through your lashes, “it is I that is owed castigation.”

He sighs and turns his face away, blinking long in irritation. He shakes his head as he draws away, taking the shovel as he spins to face Lord Kent. The other man sits dizzily on his knees, gripping his head as his bright blue eyes flash up to face his adversary.

Bruce points at him with the shovel, “I should cave your head in with this, I should stain this carpet with your blood, I should make you beg until no breath can rise from your lifeless chest,” he snarls, “but I shall not. Unlike you, I have honour, so I will allow you your life…” your husband pauses and glances at you, “so long as you are away from my estate at once. So long as you do not tarry and goad me further for I do not know how much longer I can withhold my vengeance upon you, sir.”

He grips the shovel and prods Kent’s chest as he bends to meet his gaze, “go now and never lay eye or hand on my wife again. At the risk of my fury, you will not so much as think upon her. For the next time I shall not think to fetch a shovel but my pistol.”

He shoves Kent with the shovel and takes a steps back, pointing with the long silver handle towards the door. Kent’s eyes wander towards you and the gleam of the shovel quickly deters him. He stands with a stagger, gripping his knees before he can set himself on his own weight. Blood trickles from his nose and the cut along his cheek.

No words pass between the men in the stolid stalemate. Bruce stands unmoving but for his eyes as they follow Lord Kent out the door. Alfred’s voice greets him from the corridor, no doubt the loyal butler has heard it all and is ready to see the man from the premises.

You shiver and your legs buckle and fold. You collapse into a heap and catch yourself on the heel of your hands. You weep freely as all strength abandons you on the cold floor.

“I am so sorry, my lord,” you quaver, “please, I do beg of you to forgive me. I will do whatever you wish. Should you wish me to go–”

Your voice lumps in your throat as the shovel clatters to the floor. You reluctantly look up with a trembling lip as Bruce stands staring at the floor, one foot kicked out as he grips one hip. His face is lost in shadows and sets in you a new fear.

You think for a moment he may do worse to you than Kent. You will not resist if that is as he wishes. What more do you deserve?

He drags his foot around as he turns. You wince as he nears you with heavy steps and bends his knees as he brings himself to your level. He puts his hands on your arms and slowly rises, bringing you up with him. You stand uneasily, legs quaking as he holds you up.

You can’t look at him but suspect he can’t either. He pulls you against him suddenly, you squeak. He holds you there, you hear the beating of his heart, arms tight around you, body stiff. His embrace slackens and at once he is scooping you off your feet.

You latch onto his shoulder as you smother a gasp. He stares ahead, determined, as he turns and carries you across the room. The house is empty and silent as he comes out into the corridor, the staff scattered from the discord.

“Br– Lord Wayne,” you murmur as you place your hand on his chest.

He does not answer as his long strides continue into the foyer and the ascent is slower, jarring you with each step. He proceeds past your door as you squirm in his arms, uncertain and afraid. He is your husband, your master, he may punish you as he sees fit. As his wife, you must heed his will.

He pauses, shifting you as he bends to turn the knob on his bedroom door. You hold your breath, tears dried up with anticipation, with dread. He continues within and kicks shut the door behind him. Your fingers curl into his vest as you steel yourself for what comes next.

He goes to the bed and lays you down gently. You’re surprised as he straightens and tugs at his stock, freeing it from his neck. He works at unbuttoning his high collar, nose flaring with his thoughts as his dark eyes dilate. You stare at him, witless.

He unbuttons his waistcoat and disposes it. His attention drifts away from his own attire as he comes closer to the bed. He bends and reaches around you, pulling at the knot behind you that holds your silk belt in place. The thick ribbon with the opal stone at the front drops into your lap.

“You are my wife still,” he says, looking you in the eyes, “you will ever be my wife. It is I that have failed you,” he retreats and continues to undress, “that I sent you off with that cad, exposed you to his perversions–” he shakes his head at himself, nearly ripping his shirt as he yanks the tails from the top of his breeches, “it will not happen again, ever. I will see that it does not.”

“My lord, it is not your–”

“Not my fault?” He puffs as he faces you again, his chest tense as it peeks out from beneath his open shirt, “do you think it your own?”

You blink at him. You can’t say it aloud but you do.

“No, that… beast, that creature,” he snarls and hits his hand with his fist, “he has preyed upon a married woman, he has defiled my own wife, and– and you are too gentle to hold an ounce of anger for him. So let me, let me carry that flame and let it burn me from the inside. For you deserve better, you deserve vengeance.” He clicks his tongue and shrugs off his shirt, tearing it off in frustration, “you deserve better than I am and better I shall be.”

He nears you again and you barely keep from wilting before him. He takes your hands and urges you to rise. You do, quivering, and he follows your sleeves up your arms and his fingers dance over your shoulders. He tickles your neck and cradles your face, his own body shaking.

“Ready for bed, blossom,” he bids as he hovers his lips over yours, “so that I may hold you close and safe in my arms.”

“My lor–”

“Bruce, your husband,” he insists as his thumb brushes your cheek, “yours, as you are mine.”

He crushes his lips to yours fervently. You let him as his hands frame your jaw firmly, squeezing as he touches you with an intent you’ve never felt in him again. So raw and rabid, all rigidity tossed away. His tongue pokes into your mouth demandingly and he edges you back against the bed.

You fall and he descends with you. He parts as he holds himself over you, his breath washing over you hotly. He pets your face and traces your hairline as he marvels at you, “there has been much excitement, wife, and I wish only to have you in my arms and sleep. So that you may rest, that you may recover.”

Your eyes wet and you wiggle your nose, “m–Bruce,” you caress his bare shoulder, “you are too generous, too forgiving–”

“You needn’t my forgiveness and he shall never have it,” he hisses, “but I will ever have you, until eternity, my blossom, as you swore to me and I to you.”

💔

The warmth is sweltering. Bruce lays flush to your back, his arm snaked around you to keep you close, as if to trap you there. You have no thought of escape as you wake gradually, the chill of the chamber creeping in over the top of the eider.

You pull the blanket closer to your chin as your husband shifts behind you. He grumbles into your hair, the heat of him seeping through the measly layers of linen. Your shift is a poor shield to the early morning cold and the man behind you.

He untucks his hand from under you and drags it up your stomach. He covers one side of your chest, fondling you as he purrs and wiggles against you. His fingers crawl up and pluck at the laces across your chest. He loosens them enough to slip beneath your shift, toying with your nipple as it hardens against his touch.

A ripple flows through you. You could cry again. He wants you still. Even after a night to think, he desires you. He does not blame you, though you cannot say the same. The guilt lingers and nips at the nape of your neck.

He nuzzles the back of your head and hums, edging down the slender sleeves of your shift to bare your chest completely. He gropes you, playing with you, tweaking strings deep inside you. You moan and nestle into him, welcoming him.

His hand trails up to your shoulder and he moves, leaving you cold as he pushes you onto your back. A rush of air flows in beneath the blankets as he lifts himself over you, edging your legs apart with his knee. He bends his arm around your hand and leans in to kiss you.

You breathe into him, letting all the tension, all the worry drifting away. You touch him shyly, fingers fluttering over his side, making him twitch. You feel the strength in him, relish in it, feel safe in it.

His mouth slips across your cheek. He kisses along your jaw and neck, doting on you, exploring as if it’s all new again. His lips make you giggle as they meet your throat and he rolls his thumb over your nipple, stirring another flicker of elation.

Your hand brushes along the top of his short drawers and he groans. He wants it, you want it to. You push down the linen and he shifts his hips to help you. His fingers walk down your stomach and trace the line of your pelvis. He slips between your bodies and along your folds. He rubs you cloyingly as his shorts catch around his thighs.

You moan and twine your hand into his dark hair as he nibbles along your collarbone. He teases your tender bud as his mouth follows the curve of your breast, pinch the skin between his teeth as you squirm. He takes a nipple between his lips and sucks, another strike of pleasure pings up your spine, arching you against him.

“Bruce,” you rasp as you grasp his shoulder, “please…”

He purrs and it rolls through you. His fingers tease your wet folds as he coaxes your body. You bend your legs around him, ready, impatient.

He slips his hand away and his mouth leaves a wet smear up your chest. He raises himself over you, guiding his tip along your cunt. You bite your lip as you bring your hands along the sides of his neck, the tendons straining as he prods along your entrance.

He thrusts into you all at once. You cry out as your hands fall to his shoulders and you dig your nails into his flesh. He does it again, harder, the sudden urgency surprises you. You gasp and press a palm to his chest as he ruts once more.

“Bruce,” you whisper.

He pushes his legs up, shorts stretched between his thighs as you bend your knees around him. He snarls as he snaps his hips again and you curve your spine deeper to take him. He’s never been like this. Before, those few times in the early days of your marriage were dull and dutiful, and since, soft and fond. Now, he’s rough but not unloving. Desperate, almost.

He kisses you, swallowing up any protest you might muster. He rams into you, over and over, flesh slapping loudly between you. The pressure, the friction of his pelvis against yours, tingles over you, coiling within, tight until fraught.

You whine into his mouth and hook your arm around his neck as you cum. You spasm as your walls twitch around him, succumbing to his demands. His lips part from yours as he chuckles, tickling your side as he thrusts as deep as he can.

He frames your chin and turns your head harshly as your arm slips away from his neck. His lips brush against your ear as he whispers, “you will never again be lost, blossom, for you are exactly where you belong.”

He shoves himself up, sitting back on his heels as the bed jostles with the movement. He runs his hands along your thighs and grips your hips, pulling you further onto him. He watches the joining of your bodies as he sinks deeper and you whine.

You reach back to clutch the pillow as you grit your teeth. He rocks, growling as his eyes cling to his long strokes pushing in and out of you. He rams his hips up until you're full and you exclaim. He does it again, just as hard, and you squeal. He smirks, keeping the deliberate tempo.

He drags his hand away from your hip and presses his thumb to your clit. You writhe as he tilts his hips, rubbing you as he fucks faster and faster. All control flies away from him as your voices rise and mingle in the frigid air, now damp and smelly with your sweat.

“Oh, blossom, I know you can do it,” he taunts, “yes, only for me, yes?”

You puff as another climax piques in you, shaking you to your core as you bend your legs around him, begging for more. He grins and slides his hand beneath your knee, then the other, pulling your legs up his torso, spreading his hands across your thighs, fingertips poking into you sharply.

He hangs his head back as his tempo quickens, hammering into you as he growls at the canopy. You moan and sink your nails into the pillow as his needs ripples through you, enthralling you, melting you to a quivering mess.

He snarls and grunts, snapping his hips several times before stopping, holding himself at his limit as his body twitches. He’s breathless as he caresses you from thigh to foot and back down again. He lets your legs fall around him and bends over you, kissing your fiery cheek.

“My wife, my blossom,” he coos as he runs his thumb over your lower lip, “I promise you, there will never again be any other but me for you.”

“Husband,” you exhale wispily, “I–”

He hushes you and pecks your lips, “do not be sorry, ever.”

💔

You can almost forget Lord Kent’s disastrous visit, yet Bruce’s new ardor is a constant reminder. A reassurance almost as he chips away at the guilt still hard as a stone in your chest. His insistent presence and attention are a pendulum between soothing and suffocating. He is your husband, however, and you swore to serve him.

That day, he is in his study. A rare occasion in the weeks since the revelation. He has not gone to the parliament more than once a week and spends much of his time with you, whether it be with your books or his bed. More than his habits, his manner has changed. He is more intense, more insistent. As if he is afraid, and other times, he seems enraged. Not at you, but at some unspoken threat.

You’re at your vanity when the knock comes. Ester helps you with the ribbon you thought to tie around your hair as you call for the visitor. Bruce enters, dressed simply in dove grey and navy, his eyes sparkling as you peek over from the looking glass.

“And what is the occasion?” He wonders as his footsteps pad over the floor.

“Housework,” you chuckle, “I suppose a ribbon isn’t needed.”

“Housework?” He rests his hand on the edge of the vanity, you feel his gaze on you, “is that not what the staff are employed for?”

“I like to help,” you shrug, “I mostly say where to move the furniture when I do not like the arrangement.”

“I did wonder why the settee keeps wandering,” he muses, “but I’m afraid I must put a pin in your plans.”

“Oh?” You look up at him as Ester sighs and lets the ribbon fall limp again.

You know you’ve been moving overly much, your restlessness worse with each day. That cause of which is hard to determine as it befalls you at unsensible times. And the sickness that keeps you from finishing your morning meals, sometimes those later in the day. You wonder if the winter has brought an ague upon you.

“The seamstress has come,” he declares as if you should know why. Your confused look affirms that you don’t, “so that you may have a new dress for the yule celebration.”

You tilt your head at him as Ester pulls back, “forget the ribbon, Ester, apologies,” you wave her away and turn to Bruce, “a new dress?”

“Did I not mention it?” He gives a crooked smirk.

“You know that you did not,” you smile as glee erupts in your stomach. You’ve not had a new outfit since before your marriage, a whole trousseau left neglected in your isolation.

“Consider it a surprise,” he offers his hand, “I’ve come to escort you, lady.”

“Well, aren’t you the gentleman, this day,” you tease as you take his hand and rise.

“As I am every day, though we shall not mention the nights,” he winks and you give a glance to Ester as she barely hides her amusement.

“Husband,” you tap his arm in reprimand.

He laughs and leads you to the door, “you do not counter the point, however.”

“This is not The House, sir, thus I needn’t entertain your debates,” you reproach.

“Oh, how you entertain me in other ways,” he hooks his arm through yours.

“My, you are naughty,” you chide, “what has overcome you, husband?”

“Only your beauty,” he leans over to kiss your hair.

You giggle and shake your head at him. He leads you downstairs to the sunroom, the windows shrouded behind the thick winter curtains as rolls of fine fabric are displayed before them, the fireplace burning amber, as a woman in a plain grey dress stands patiently beside it. You cannot believe the scene.

“Madam,” she greets with a nod from Bruce as he lets you go, “I am Marigold, I am here to take your measurement back to Monsieur Lammeau.”

“Lammeau?” You bat your lashes, “why, he resides in Paris.”

“Monsieur is vacationing in London presently,” Marigold explains, “and is eager for the many commissions he received for the king’s yule ball.”

“Why, I…” you look at Bruce as he strides to a chair and sits smugly, “sir, you are a scamp.”

He smiles over his knuckles as he leans his chin in his hand. You are surprised further that he remains but don’t let it affect you. You are much too excited at the site of silks, brocades, and muslins.

“Shall we review the fabric first, lady? Then I shall close with your measurements,” Marigold directs.

You accede to her suggestion and go to tall rolls. A tailor would often travel with pocket-sized swatches but you suspect the extravagance is at your husband’s insistence.

You peruse the many options before you. The teal and gold brocade is much too springish for the season, the violet muslin too presumptuous for court, and the black silk too drab. You don’t mind the burgundy velvet with small gems set into it in an even pattern but you think of the expense, the plain blue might be preferable in cost, and the emerald satin is simple enough for most patterns.

“Hmm, I cannot decide,” you tap your lip, “I wonder what the other ladies have chosen.”

“The other ladies’ options have been removed from the catalogue, madam,” Marigold says, “they do seem fond of muslin despite the cold however.”

“What about the red velvet?” Bruce offers, “you seemed to linger on that.”

“Yes, but… it seems rather ostentatious, perhaps without the gems,” you mull.

“I think it suits you,” he insists, “wouldn’t you say, Marigold?”

“The red is a fine tone for your complexion and would take only a simple cut,” Marigold offers, “but of course, it is the lady’s preference that matters.”

“I do like it,” you twiddle your fingers, “might I ask the price?”

“You may not,” Bruce interjects, “that is a matter I will attend to, lady.”

You give an abashed, tight-lipped smile, “yes, husband.”

“Is that your decision, madam?” Marigold prompts.

“If I don’t decide on it now, I don’t think I should be able to choose,” you say, “yes, I will have the velvet.”

“Very good,” she takes out a small notebook, “Monsieur will arrange a visit to consult about his designs, but for now, I will take your measurements. It would require, madam, to be done with only your shift.”

“Ah, yes, I suppose, that would be necessary,” you glance at Bruce who is unmoved at the suggestion.

“I’ve seen less than the shift,” he shrugs as he sits back.

You’re taken aback for a moment by his impropriety. It was once that this man seemed averse to anything not stamped into him by years of etiquette. You cannot be displeased by it, though it does confound you.

“Shall we call for Ester?” Bruce wonders, “to assist.”

You agree and wait as the maid is summoned. She helps unlace your layers, secured less than an hour ago, and you stand in only your shift and slippers. It feels odd being in such a state anywhere beyond private chambers.

You raise your arms and stand still as Marigold does her work. You watch the scribbles she makes in her notebook, distracted only by Bruce’s intractable gaze. He squints at you for a moment and you wonder what he is thinking of.

You peek at the numbers again before Marigold closes up the pages. She thanks you and declares her job done. You give her a half-minded courtesy as your mind strays.

The numbers are not as they were at your last fitting. It has been some time and you have noticed your stays are tighter. It isn’t unexpected to gain some weight, especially in the winter months. Still, you can’t help but ponder.

Bruce stands to thank Marigold as you dress. You subtly brush your hand over your stomach as Ester ties your laces. A speckling heat spreads beneath your shift and sweat beads on your scalp. You feel suddenly out of breath.

“Are you well, miss?” Ester asks quietly as you turn to her, your husband’s voice droning as he assures Marigold he will have the staff assist with her carriage.

“Yes, I am only a bit…”

You can’t finish the sentence as you don’t know what you feel. Fear, anxiety, hope? You can’t figure which is the strongest as you try to recall the last time you had your monthly bleeding.

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