#plot twist she wanted to spend eternity with him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

zarameraki · 2 months

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˖°🕷️ ࣪𖤐 𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗽-𝗳𝗮𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗼𝗷𝗶 ˖°🕷️𖤐

: ̗̀➛ tropes: fem! reader 𖥔 minors do not interact 𖥔 unprotected sex 𖥔 step-father x step-daughter 𖥔 porn with plot 𖥔 banter 𖥔 dom daddy and his little girl 𖥔 neck kissing 𖥔 alternate universe 𖥔 praise 𖥔 bj 𖥔 biting 𖥔 nipple play 𖥔 daddy issues 𖥔 dirty talking 𖥔 small pillow talk 𖥔 nsfw 𖥔 smut

: ̗̀➛ words: 4.0k

: ̗̀➛ notes: ok look, i was ovulating and i had to write this for some reason. i even wrote a nanami one (but he's your step-uncle). my mind was in the gutter and i wanted to challenge myself to something super taboo. if you have any requests, don’t hesitate to send them. pls follow, reblog, like, comment—whatever you want! okay love you and enjoy.

Here you were, standing on a worn-out welcome mat, staring at the door of your ex-stepfather’s house.

It’s surreal.

A month ago, when your mom dropped the bomb about their divorce, you felt like your world was crumbling. Part of you felt relieved, like you could finally breathe without suffocating under their constant tension. And the other part? Well, it felt like a piece of you was being ripped away.

Last week, when the papers were finalized, making it official that they were done, you locked yourself in your room. The silence was deafening, and you couldn’t shake off that nagging feeling of missing him. Missing Toji. It’s ridiculous, right? He’s not your step dad anymore. He’s just some guy now. Too old, too wrong, too different.

You should just turn around and leave, forget about all this.

But you couldn’t.

Not today.

Not when you’re clutching your hard-earned bachelor’s degree, wearing a stupid graduation gown that felt like a costume. He didn’t bother showing up for your biggest achievement, just like your mother. She was always occupied with her own life to care about you. You were just an accident, a spill on her pile of kitchen table bills.

Toji, though, he was different. He actually paid attention, listened to you, cared about what you had to say. Maybe you’re being stupid for wanting to talk to him, to pour out everything that’s been eating you up for months. But you needed to do this, for yourself, even if it meant facing the reality that he’s not part of your life anymore.

So, you’d driven straight to his residence building, skipping the after parties with your friends. You were twenty-two for fuck’s sake. If you wanted to spend the night celebrating with your step-dad, then that’s exactly what you were going to do.

Enough was enough.

Your trembling finger hovered over the doorbell, each second feeling like an eternity. The sharp pricks of anxiety danced on your palms, and the weight on your shoulders threatened to crush you. But you couldn’t turn back now.

The ache in your chest demanded resolution, an answer to the haunting question that had plagued you since your mother first brought him into your life: Do I want to fuck my step-dad?

Yes. Yes, you very much did.

The clicks of the lock rattled and the door knob twisted clockwise.

Toji stood in the doorway, his presence dominating the space as if he had devoured the entire door frame. His twelve abdomen muscles rippled, stark against his skin. Jet-black hair clung wetly to his forehead, partially obscuring his eyes. With sweatpants slung low on his hips, a tantalizing trail of hair led downward, drawing attention to the area you often found yourself fantasizing about.

“Fucking hell,” he muttered under his breath, realization dawning. “It was today, wasn’t it?”

“You’re such an ass,” you spat out, your body trembling with a mix of emotions—his forgetfulness, his proximity to you, the sheer presence of him. But at this moment, all your focus was on the pain of him abandoning you after promising he’d be there. “I was completely alone, Toji. Do you even understand how embarrassing it was to stand there by myself while everyone else had their families?”

“Sweetheart—”

“No. No, you don’t get to call me that. You don’t—You made me a promise, Toji. You swore you’d be there for me.”

“I know,” he murmured, running his hand down his face. “I’m sorry, kid. Come here.” He grasped your wrist and drew you towards him, enveloping you in a tight embrace. His strong arms wrapped around your body, reminiscent of the times he used to challenge you by having you sit on his back during push-ups to prove you wrong about being too heavy for him. “Better?”

“No,” you grumbled, resting your cheek against his chest. He had the scent of spruce and cigarettes that you found strangely comforting. What you wouldn’t do to sleep on his chest for hours, days and weeks. “Toji, I . . . I want to talk to you about something.”

“What is it?” he asked, stepping back.

“Can we sit down first?”

He grinned. “Of course, baby.”

With a shy smile of your own, you took his hand, feeling the warmth of his touch as he led you towards the plush couch at the center of the room. Memories of previous visits with your mother flashed briefly in your mind, but they were quickly replaced by the present moment.

The apartment’s decor was simple yet masculine, with red-brick walls lending a rustic charm. A mounted television, a large couch, and a hanging boxing bag added character to the space. The kitchen, though small, was designed in an L-shape, showcasing Toji’s dedication to fitness with his assortment of protein powders and supplements neatly arranged.

As you both settled onto the couch, Toji relaxed back, spreading out his legs and placing his arms on the backrest. His gaze lingered on you as you gracefully removed your graduation gown and placed your degree on his coffee table.

“Your mother allowed you to wear that?” His thumb traced the curve of his lower lip as his gaze roamed shamelessly over you.

The gown you had on was a sleek, satin creation with a daring thigh-high slit. Its fabric was delicate, featuring thin straps and a plunging cleavage that barely contained your breasts. It was no secret that you had chosen it with Toji in mind, especially since your mother had been “too busy” to accompany you on your shopping trip.

“She doesn’t control my wardrobe,” you replied, your voice laced with confidence as you settled beside him. One leg tucked beneath you, the other languidly extended, the slit in your dress showcasing the smoothness of your skin. Toji’s gaze followed the line of exposed flesh before meeting your eyes. “Besides, you shouldn’t be the one to talk.”

His smirk widened when you pointed out his lack of a shirt. “My house, my rules.”

You changed the subject. “Care to explain why you missed my graduation?”

“Work,” he replied shortly.

“Is that so?”

“I got a last-minute call for a match. The prize money was going to cover the next three months’ rent.” Toji was a professional MMA fighter. You had once attended one of his matches for ten minutes before almost passing out from witnessing how brutally he defeated his opponent. His persona in the ring was a juxtaposition to the sarcastic yet caring man he was at home with you.

“Did you win?” you asked, absently twirling the bracelet he had given you for your twenty-first birthday.

“Yeah,” he replied, his tone carrying a hint of pride. “I won.”

“Good.” You lifted your gaze to meet his, only to find his eyes fixed on you. “Do you miss home?”

“I am home.”

“You know what I mean.”

He took a deep breath, gazing at the blank television screen. Tilting his head back towards you, he wore a lopsided grin. “I miss you. Does that count?”

Your insides turned to jelly at his words, but you refused to let yourself falter, refusing to become the shy, sweet girl you once were, despite the depraved and forbidden reel playing in your mind.

You missed watching television with your head on his lap. You missed cooking together. You missed doing the dishes afterward. You missed joining him on walks and runs just to spend a little extra time together. You missed dragging him to malls with you and trying on clothes, posing as sexily as you could, but obviously, he didn’t understand the signals. He never did. Even if you’d spend more time with him than your own mother.

Silence ensued around you, only the subtle sounds of your choppy breaths and his composed ones were heard.

“Why are you here, kid?” Toji’s gruff voice cut through the air.

“To see you.”

“Why are you here?”

You held your breath tightly in your chest. “I wanted to talk.”

“About?” He was quick with the question, as if he knew what you were about to say, but wanted to hear it from your lips. Lips that he couldn’t pull his eyes away from. “Talk to me.”

“I—” You felt a knot form in your throat. “I wanted to check up—”

“Bullshit.”

Yeah, bullshit.

What were you scared of? This was the man who cut up fruits for you when you were mentally deprived from crunching for your exams. This was the man who put a blanket on you if you fell asleep reading, even giving a kiss to your crown. This was the man who treated you like you were his own daughter, when in reality, you never were. And he never outwardly called you his daughter, either. You didn’t know why you never saw him as a father figure, but rather, you called him a friend. A really good friend. A friend you’d fallen stupidly in love with over the course of six months.

Toji snapped his fingers in front of your face. You blinked out of the whirlpool of your thoughts. “Where’d you go?”

“To you.”

He lifted a brow. “To me?”

Now or never, Y/N. Now or fucking never.

You knelt down and moved closer, settling yourself onto his lap. His eyes widened momentarily at your boldness. “Toji, I like you. Hell, I love you. I love every version of the man you’ve been in my life. I know—I know you love me, too. Probably not in the way I want you to, but a girl can hope.” Your words were directed at the dog tag hanging from his neck as you gently placed your hands on his chest. “I did come here to scold you for not attending my graduation, but I also wanted to . . . I wanted to be with you. In more ways than one.”

“You don’t know what you’re talk—”

“I do,” you stated firmly. Your lashes lifted and found his narrowed scrutiny. Unconsciously, his hands rested on your waist, molding to your curves. “I’ve known for a while now. It didn’t click in until you moved out. I swear Toji, it was like I couldn’t breathe without you.”

“Baby . . . ”

“I want you,” you confessed in a hushed tone, your fingers tracing the lines of his broad shoulders, then up to the sturdy column of his neck where his pulsing veins hinted at his emotions. “I know I seem desperate, but I don’t care. You’re not hers anymore. You were never hers.”

“Y/N—”

“Please, Toji. Please, just touch me.” You tilted your head to plant a tender kiss on the sharp angle of his jawline. His faint stubble grazed against your lips as you continued to pepper kisses, stopping just short of his mouth. “Forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest, they say.”

Toji tightly shut his eyes and took slow breaths through his nose, his inner turmoil evident in the way his head moved back and forth. Your lips traced gentle paths around his face, savoring the closeness and the rush of emotions it brought. Even if he rejected you, you would find solace in knowing you had expressed your love for the man who was once your stepfather. This night might mark the end of your time together, but it also freed you from the burden of hiding your feelings..

“Baby,” Toji whispered, gently caressing your cheek as he drew you closer. “You sure you want this?”

“Yes.”

“You know how risky this is, kid. We can’t just ignore the consequences.”

“I know, Toji.” You leaned closer, your breath mingling with his. “But I can’t ignore how I feel about you either. I want this. I want you. I want all of you. You can do whatever you want to me. I promise I can take it.”

Toji licked his lips and ran his fingers through his hair. “Fuck. Okay. Your mom—”

“She won’t know. I’m planning on moving out soon.” You dragged your hand up and down his soft, bare chest. “I should’ve moved out with you.”

Toji took your hand in his and pressed a tender kiss to the center of your palm. “I don’t think I have any condoms on me.”

“I’m on the pill.”

His eyes narrowed on you. “You’ve been fucking around? Does your mom know?”

“Hey, I had to have a little fun. Gain a little experience for this inevitable night.” Your infectious smile rubbed off on him and he enveloped you in his arms.

“I fuck hard.”

“Good.”

“Last chance.”

“Nope.”

Toji rose on his feet, supporting your bottom with his hands as he took you to his bedroom. He laid you down on his bed, the soft mattress absorbing the weight with a slight bounce. “Fucking knew you had a little crush on me.” He clambered onto your body and held your jaw with his hand. “Tell me, sweetheart, did you touch yourself thinking of me?”

“Every single night. Whether it’s in the shower or my bedroom,” you replied, feigning a pout and raising your hand. “I’m starting to think I’ve developed carpal tunnel from all of it.”

Toji laughed, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face with his calloused fingers. But as his laughter faded into a knowing smirk, his next words sent a jolt through you, leaving your legs weak and your heart racing. “Yeah. Me, too.”

“Really?”

He answered by colliding his lips against yours. It was a brutal kiss. Pain and pleasure mingled together in a heated embrace. His tongue shoved deep into your mouth, exploring the source of your daring words.

Pulling away momentarily, he squeezed your cheeks and sucked on your tongue like it was a delicious treat. “Gonna spit in your mouth.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Toji’s cheeks sucked in as he gathered his spit and spat it right onto your tongue. “Swallow.”

You did, moaning as his warm saliva traveled down your throat. “You taste minty.”

“I was just about to crash before your demanding ass showed up,” he teased.

“Well, you should thank me then.” You planted a quick kiss on his nose.

Toji leaned in and kissed you deeply, tugging on your bottom lip and trailing his moist lips down to your neck. “You smell so good, baby.”

“I’m wearing the perfume you bought me.”

“You better fucking be. Do you know how much I get off on spoiling you?” His teeth bit your delicate flesh and pulled, making you whimper from the stinging pain. He sucked and bit on different areas of your neck, marking you with his love bites. He then helped you out of the dress and pressed you back on the mattress. “Knew you weren’t wearing a bra.”

“No,” you said sarcastically.

“Yeah,” he said, missing the teasing in your voice, “your nipples were in my face when we were talking.” He rounded his tongue around your areola. Gathering your breasts in both hands, Toji switched between suckling at your nipples, biting the sensitive bud that sent jerks in your body, and licking the burning pain. “I saw you undressing once. You know that?”

You lifted a brow. “Uh, when?” And why didn't he do anything about it?

“You left your bedroom a bit open. I came to call you for dinner and instead feasted on the sight of your perky ass and these sexy tits.” He left your nipples numb and discolored from his teeth’s abuse. “You think you’re the only one who got off in that house? No, baby. Not at all. I was in the room right next to you, jerking off to your voice, or your smell.” This time, he kissed you gently and then each of your shoulders. “I had it worse. I had it so much worse.”

“Toji . . . ”

“But you’re here now, and so am I. I’m not fucking leaving. You got that? You’re mine. You’ve always been mine.”

“Yours,” you whispered. “God, Toji, I’m yours. I’m yours.”

Toji removed his sweatpants and boxers, giving you a glorious display of his long, thick cock, corded with veins, sprouted up and proud. You had him like that, and so you gave yourself a mental pat on the back. “Like what you see?”

“Yes,” you said, chuckling in disbelief at the anatomy of him. A surge of confidence washed over you. You slipped off your panties and spread out your legs, shaking your hair back from your face. “Like what you see?”

Toji gleamed at the wetness pooled between your legs, soaking his sheets underneath, sticky and hot. Something feral rattled inside him. He gripped your knees and pried them farther apart, sinking in between.

“Oh, fuck, fuck! Toji—ah!” Your back arched in ecstasy, fingers gripping his scalp as he ruthlessly ate you out. His large palm held your hips in place, nibbling and sucking at your quivering, swollen clit. “Toji, yes, yes, fuck. Right there. Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

You grinded against him with full power, pushing your pussy closer to his mouth. He drank your leaking juices, drove his skilled tongue into your tight entrance, and discovered the sweet, cry-worthy spots inside you.

Soon, he replaced his tongue with three fingers, plunging them deep inside you with a rough and unrelenting pace that sent shivers down your spine. His deep growls were the icing on top.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as the bed creaked beneath you. He was exorcising your damn soul out of your body with his holy tongue and his blessed fingers.

“Ah!” You came down like a fucking waterfall and Toji stood with an open mouth, drinking in your essence, lapping at your cunt like a starved dog, cleaning you as best as he could.

You gasped for air, clutching your chest as you coughed or laughed or wheezed—hard to tell which. You felt weightless, incredibly sore, teetering on the edge of passing out.

“Toji . . . am I dead?”

His laughter echoed nearby, then drew nearer until his face came into focus through your haze. “Your pussy tastes just as delicious as your mouth, baby.”

He kissed you and gave you a hint of your release. Toji was a moaner—a loud one—as he sucked on your tongue, pulling it into his mouth. Your eyes rolled to the back of your skull as he spit onto your tongue again, and ran his own coarse one over your palette.

You closed your mouth and pushed him back by his shoulders. “Let me touch you.”

“Yeah? You want to suck me off, too?”

“Yes, fuck. Please, Toji. Please let me suck your cock.” Your begging made him grunt as he got up on his knees. He moved closer, placing them firmly beside your hips. You sat up against the headboard, gripping his warm, aroused cock, while he entwined your hair around his hand, gaining control over your movements.

You looked up at his smirk and kissed his moist tip, savoring the salty taste. Goosebumps formed on your skin at the idea of taking him deeper into your mouth. It would definitely challenge your gag reflex, but if this was going to be a regular thing, you needed to practice.

“Part your lips for me, kid. Nice and wide. That’s it.”

“Yes, Daddy.” You winked at Toji’s alarmed expression. Oh, how you loved catching him off-guard by acting out of character. “You got a daddy kink, Toji?” You brushed your lips from the base to the head, swirling your tongue around the rim. “Since you love calling me kid, maybe I should start calling you daddy. Isn’t that what you were?”

“You got a dirty mouth on you, kid.”

“Learned it from my daddy.”

Toji hissed through his teeth as you nibbled his tip. “Not dirty enough.” He gripped his length and forced it past your lips. Your nails plunged into his hips, gagging and shaking as he sunk past your uvula. “About time I fucked your smartass mouth with my cock, baby. Be a good girl and don’t tap out until I’ve come down your throat.”

You closed your eyes briefly, gathering your resolve before meeting his gaze again with a playful glint. You weren’t entirely sure where this was going, but you were determined not to back down now. So, with a mischievous wink, you silently accepted the challenge.

Toji thrusted his hips back and forth, shoving his girth in and out without giving you space to breathe.

“That’s it, baby. That’s it. Fuck, you’re so good at sucking your daddy’s cock,” he groaned, his hands gently gripping your hair or caressing your cheek in a way that contrasted sharply with his dominant actions.

“My pretty whore.”

Thrust.

“My gorgeous girl.”

Thrust.

“You belong to me, baby.”

Thrust, thrust, thrust.

He was a complete monster with you.

Your face pressed against his pelvis, the brush of his happy trail tickling your nose. You knew from experience that most men came quicker if you fondled their balls. You squeezed his heavy, swollen sacs, making him hiss and violate your throat.

Toji couldn’t hold back. His release came with a roar, numbing your scalp from how tightly he was pulling on it. The thin ropes of his release and your saliva formed as he pulled out. You swallowed whatever was left around your mouth. To please him further, as if assaulting your throat wasn’t enough, you lapped at his tip like a devoted kitten. “You’re so good to me, baby.”

That’s all you wanted to hear.

“Turn around,” he commanded, and without hesitation, you dropped to your knees, arching your back to present yourself to him. “What a sight.” His hand glided over your left ass cheek tenderly before delivering a firm smack that made you jolt forward. Toji mirrored the action on your right cheek, preparing you while coating the tip of his cock with slickness from your own arousal. “Gonna put it in now, sweetheart.”

“Finally, Jesus.”

Toji spanked your ass which only elicited a giggle out of you. “Let’s see if you’ll be laughing soon, baby.”

He pushed into you in one-quick go.

You cried out and grabbed the top of the headboard with your sweaty palms. He pulled out just to the hilt then drove back in. The air smelled like your sweat and perfume and sex. Every nerve in your body was alive, your heart pounding fiercely as if trying to escape your chest. Your face flushed with heat, your blood singing with desire.

You moaned and cried and screamed his name, driving him to complete madness with the word “Daddy.” You begged him to go faster, push harder, to have you sore for weeks so you didn’t have to get out of his bed, out of his arms, out of his home. You wanted this to be your home.

Toji spanked your ass repeatedly, skin slapping against skin, palming the back of your head so that your face was crushed on his pillow. It smelled like firewood. Smelled like him. You wanted to steal it, take it home, sleep with it, ride it while whispering his name.

You both came together.

Toji’s hot seed filled your stretched hole. He withdrew slowly, a teasing sensation that left you craving more. With deft fingers, he ensured not a drop was wasted.

You collapsed onto your stomach, catching your breath before summoning the strength to turn and face him.

He exhaled heavily, laying beside you “Fuck, that was . . .”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Best yeah.” You draped yourself onto his chest and kissed his chin. He massaged his fingers through your throbbing scalp, the other hand caressing your numb, bruised ass.

Toji twirled a strand of your hair around his finger. “Does this make-up for missing your graduation?”

You flicked his forehead. “I haven’t forgiven you for that.”

“Maybe I should miss more of your events if this is the reward I’m gonna get.”

You scowled. “I dare you to repeat that again.”

Toji ironed out your scowl with his thumb. You kissed the pad of his rough finger, twice. “My cards are on the table for you, sweetheart.”

Your lips met his, whispering, “I folded a while ago, Daddy.”

“Fuck,” he breathed out. With a swift motion, he flipped you onto your back, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. “Round two, kid.”

2K notes · View notes

frenchkisstheabyss · 4 months

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୨୧ ʝαɯႦɾҽαƙҽɾ (ƚɯσ) ୨୧

୨୧ Pairings: rich boy!yunho x chubby!fem!reader, rich boy!choi san x chubby!fem!reader, rich boy!hongjoong x chubby!fem!reader, rich boy!seonghwa x chubby!fem!reader

୨୧ Genre: graduate school au/angst/smut/a lil bit of fluff emerging

୨୧ Summary: It was never your intention to infiltrate one of the most exclusive social circles at your new university, seducing rich boys to get who and what you want. Wait, no, it was.

But your actions have consequences and, when the one who brought you into this turns out to be more devious than you expected, are you prepared to face them?

୨୧ Word Count: 1.6k-ish

୨୧ Warnings: you're the villain, yunho's the villain, you truly all are in your own ways for this series, sugar baby origins, heavy angst, backstabbing, a fight breaks out, punching (not you), blood, drinking, yunho's a player, manipulation, strong language, mutual masturbation (f & m), fingering, creampie (in a sense), slight vaginal penetration (for teasing purposes), gagging (panties in mouth), cum eating, jealousy, soft dom reader vibes, pet names (pretty girl, baby, babe, good boy), oral sex (f receiving).

୨୧ A/N: This is part two in a series. You can find part one here. This entry focuses more on your relationship with Yunho, the dynamics within the boys' friend group, and why you're here at all. The next entry will be San focused with the focus shifting to Hongjoong last because every game needs a boss battle, ya know?

Watching Jeong Yunho tongue down a girl at the bar, you can’t help but wonder, “Can she taste me on his lips?” Or is she too drunk to tell that his breath still smells like pussy? It’s not that you’re territorial when it comes to him. That couldn’t be further from the truth. But his little attempt at trying to make it happen? It’s cute.

He can kiss her all he wants. Whisper in her ear how pretty she is. Tell her how he’s had a crush on her since he saw her walking across campus the other day. She’ll fall for those puppy dog eyes the way they all do. Fast forward 48 hours and she’ll be blowing up his phone wondering why he hasn’t called her back.

Only he won’t answer because he’ll be at your place again, same as he was tonight, his mouth too stuffed with your panties to get out more than a few broken syllables. Yunho’s never prettier than when he’s on his knees between your legs, stroking himself inches from your exposed core. “You wanna fuck me, Yunie? Hmm?” you tease, spreading yourself open for him.

It’s pure gold to watch the panic on his face when he can’t figure out where to look. Your angelic face? Your supple tits? Your clit coated in his precum? That’s when you know he’s close and start to play with yourself just to get inside his head. “Please let me feel you” is what he’d beg if he could speak. He’s done it before when his mouth wasn’t as full. But tonight he can only “Hhnhh, hmm, hmph” as he presses his tip to your slit, each whip of his wrist growing pathetically sloppier.

“Go ahead, Yunie baby. Be a good boy and cum on me.” Eternally the tease, you sink down onto him blessing the head of his cock with the fainest stretching of your slit. It works like magic and he’s shivering, decorating your pussy in a thick glaze of cum. His eyes never leave you, refusing to miss a minute of you fucking his cum into your core with your fingers until you’re unraveling beneath him.

“We can’t have sex.” That was the rule he made when he pulled you into this twisted plot against his so-called friends. It turns out he’d find it much harder to stick to than you would. Oh, the fun you’ve had torturing him since. He thought himself immune to the very charms he sought to exploit for his own gain. Now he’s spending two nights a week masturbating with you in your bed and cleaning you up with his tongue. Always his tongue.

So, the question remains, “Can she taste me on his lips? Can she taste us on his lips? Or are they always too drunk to notice?”

“Another drink, gorgeous?” San asks, rising to go grab himself another. Looking up at him from your chair, you’re immediately taken by the handsome dimpled smile on his face. Jeong Yunho, who? Is that a singer or something? “I’d love another drink. Thank you. Just let me grab my wallet.” Hongjoong jumps into action, reaching across the table before you can lift a finger. He takes your hand with such grace that you feel like some kind of princess.

“Don’t insult us, pretty girl. You don’t pay.”

“You guys that’s really sweet but I can’t—”

San squats down to eye level, sweeping your empty glass into his hand. “You heard the man. You don’t pay, pretty girl. You get me?” He winks at you, playfully pinching your chin. “I get you, Sannie. Thank you” you sigh, twirling your hair around your finger. As San makes his way over to the bar, your attention shifts seamlessly to Hongjoong. “Thank you too, Joongie, for everything. You’ve been so good to me since I got here.” Hongjoong grins, biting his bottom lip. You poke your tits out when you say good, your voice taking on a sultry tone.

“You’ve been so ‘fuck me with your tongue til I’m gushing’ good to me, Kim Hongjoong.”

He swallows hard, fighting to keep his composure in the crowded bar, “Don’t mention it. Any friend of Yunho’s is a friend of mine. Gotta take care of you, right?” “What about Yunho?” Yunho questions, abruptly shattering the sexual tension brewing between you and Hongjoong. Yunho picks up his beer, drinking down what’s left as he pulls up a chair. “I was just saying,” Hongjoong continues, “That she’s your friend and the three of us have to, you know, take care of her.”

Yunho gives you a cutting glance, knowing very well what that consists of. You shoot one right back at him that says this isn’t a game he wants to play. Quickly changing the subject, Yunho scans the bar, “There are usually three of you. Where’s Seonghwa? I thought you guys traveled in packs or something.” Hongjoong laughs off the comment, having grown accustomed to the slight digs that Yunho makes towards them.

Before Seonghwa there was Hongjoong, San, and Yunho. They were the ultimate trio, spending all of their time together and raising all sorts of hell. Enter Park Seonghwa, the hyper organized, ultra proper son of some famous attorney. Hongjoong spoke two words to him and that was it. He graduated to main cast member, relegating Yunho to the tortuous role of side character but not for much longer.

“Seonghwa’s actually—”

“What did you do?” Seonghwa shouts, charging into the bar and heading straight in San’s direction. Whatever he’s upset about, it’s enough to blind him with enough rage that his fist’s cracking into San’s face before the other boys can intervene. San stumbles backward, a hand over his face to check for blood. Hongjoong runs to block Seonghwa before a full on fight breaks out. He pats him on the shoulders, doing what he can to calm him down while Yunho checks on San.

“Talk to me. What’s going on?”

“Someone came into my apartment and they—my project—my laptop—everything’s deleted and I can’t get that back. I can’t—” Seonghwa tries to catch his breath but explaining himself only makes him angrier, the tightness in his chest growing unbearable.

“Hwa, he wouldn’t do that. You know San.”

“Do I? You two are the only ones with keys to my apartment. I know you wouldn’t but him?”

Yunho gathers a bunch of tissues in his hand, holding them under the crimson river cascading down San’s face. “You think I broke into your house to delete your work?” San laughs, unphased by the hit, ��You really are fucking full of yourself. Why should I give a shit what you’re doing?”

“Because you’re jealous of me. You’ve always been jealous of me!”

“Jealous? Of you? You’re joking.”

Pulling another handful of tissue from a napkin holder, Yunho tries to play peacemaker, “Can you guys not do this? We’re all friends.” “Friends?” San scoffs, “You don’t even like him!” Hongjoong approaches San, his patience running thin, “You’re talking too much now.” San sprinkles the floor with bloody napkins, his face stained red. “I’m not your lap dog, Joong. You can tell them what to do but not me.”

This entire time you haven’t moved. You can’t. Yunho had mentioned, when your panties finally vacated the space between his cheeks, that you might want to focus your affections on San tonight. Something was happening. He refused to tell you what though and now you know why. You would’ve never let him do something like this.

You were only supposed to hook up with them, maybe make them a bit jealous of each other. Jealous enough to give Yunho the chance to snake his way back into Hongjoong’s good graces. But this? Tomorrow marks two weeks on the dot since you’ve started working the front desk at one of Seonghwa’s fathers’ offices. Since then you’ve found yourself spending a lot of time with him, learning more about him than what’s in his pants.

Seonghwa's someone who takes pride in his work, the medical research he wants to pursue is important to him. This recent project was something special, monumental even. He promised he’d show you all of it when he finished and you actually found yourself excited for the day it’d happen simply because he was too. How could Yunho do something so cruel? How could he take it all away?

“Could you give me a ride home?” San asks, snatching his jacket from the back of the chair, “You can drive my car, I just—I can’t focus on the road right now.” “I—uh—sure, of course” you stutter, tossing on your coat and collecting your things. San gives you the keys to his Lamborghini, holding your hand as he guides you towards the door.

Passing Seonghwa you try to look at him, silently check to see if he’s okay, but it doesn’t even seem like he knows you’re there. The crisp night air hits you, easing the rising nausea as the reality of what you’ve done—what you’re doing—sets in. “Hey, babe, you okay?” San asks, his arm around your waist. Even with a bloody face, he’s still irresistibly cute.

You cup his cheek, examining the cut on his nose, “Why don’t we get you home so I can fix you up?” “Fix me up? You my nurse now? Gonna make me all better?” Make him all better? That’s laughable. You exist in his life—at this school—for the sole purpose of making things worse and, even with your heart breaking, you aren’t sure there’s any way to stop it.

So you lie, “Of course. That’s what I’m here for, isn’t it?”

#ateez x reader #ateez x you #ateez x female reader #yunho x reader #yunho x you #yunho smut #seonghwa x you #choi san x you #ateez angst #ateez smut #hongjoong x you #ateez au #seonghwa x reader #choi san x reader #hongjoong x reader #chubby reader #yunho angst #plus size reader

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taintandviolent · 7 months

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go for a drive ; James March x reader

summary: 364 days of the year, you're the one who has to go see him. but on Halloween, you two go for a drive. w a r n i n g s: 5.2k words. smut, kinda slow-burn, smut with a little plot, female receiving penetration, sex toys, fingering, handjobs, mentions of ghosts/death. a/n: [🎃 part of lizzie's halloween fics! 🎃] inspired by this gif and @redwoodghost and @silverzoomies (also my beta readers thank you pookies)! Happy (early) Halloween, readers! May your Halloween night / Halloweekend be filled with spooks and fun, but if not... enjoy this smutty little fic. I wanted to at least get this one out on/before Halloween, even though I've been terribly behind on all of my writings. If you enjoyed, please let me know! comments and reblogs are appreciated. 🖤 full fic & taglist under cut!↓ / ao3 link here! /

October 31st.

With one hand on the steering wheel and the other on your thigh, James drove happily down the road, without a care in the world. The breeze that exhaled from the coastline fluttered your hair gently, twisting your delicate tresses as it blew through them. You wordlessly watched him as he drove, as he lived, memorising the way that his eyes would dart from the road to look out at the sea, then back again, head full of presumably thoughts. You let out a dreamy sigh; the same one you’d let out as you watched him get gas — such a mundane thing made important. You laughed as he waited in the car for someone to come out, frustrated with the lack of hospitality these places possessed.

Eventually, you’d pulled out your debit card and leaned out of the car to slide the card into the slot. James protested furiously, insisting that a lady should never pay for a date, but you shushed him with two delicate kisses to the corners of his mouth. He’d pay you back in other ways, you promised. That seemed to sate his intolerance.

As he drove, James’ pale complexion seemed to reflect the setting sun, flushing him with warmth. His forever pitch-black eyes were sometimes — when the sunlight hit them just right — the warmest, darkest chocolate brown you’d ever seen. You were so used to seeing them in the dim, moody lighting of the Hotel Cortez, it seemed that every day besides this day, you forgot that. Because three hundred and sixty four days of the year, he remained in the Hotel Cortez. He liked it just fine, after all — he’d built it. His own personal, torturous heaven. Now, of course, it was home to a few awkward (and unfortunately) permanent guests. Still, he never complained, unless of course, you weren't there .

Those were the days where his temper would sour; he’d snap at Miss Evers, or shoo away Elizabeth on the rare occasion she wanted to speak to him. The days where his little cream puff, his hummingbird didn’t grace the hallways with her rabbit soft steps and darling laughter… Those were the days where he wished he wasn’t stuck there for all eternity and instead, doing whatever you were doing in the outside world. It didn’t matter what it was.

While you couldn’t spend every single day there, you were so enamoured with James March that you took any chance you got to pull yourself away from your meddling little life. You would drive downtown and burst through those ornate, gold doors to fall right into his arms. You’d come to learn that it drove his ex-wife mad, the way he’d sense your arrival, and rush through the lobby like a mad man. He always wrapped his arms around you so tightly that you felt your breath rush from your lungs. He frequently kissed a line from your shoulder to your forehead, lingering on your lips for a second longer than any other spot.

He lingered much longer than normal last night when you arrived for his annual Devil’s Night Dinner Party. You hardly cared about that — to you, more importantly, it was his birthday , and no matter the circumstance, you’d be in attendance for that. You were never fond of his guests, and they were never fond of you, but be that as it may, you were spending time with James and that was your joy in life. In recent years, the dinners had seemed shorter to you; James peppered the evening with secretive touches, and whispered comments that kept you going through all the atrocities. Frighteningly, those atrocities had become less and less appalling to you. You watched, wordlessly, as the band of notorious serial killers descended on the unfortunate victims of the evening, and merely blinked, before turning away to look at your hands, or scroll through your social media feeds as they did their work.

Finally, as the night would draw to an end, it was your time. He’d let the psychos free to do whatever they wanted in his Hotel, and you two got to nuzzle each other’s necks for hours on end. You hadn’t brought a present as he insisted that the way you’d give yourself to him was a gift enough.

And give yourself to him you did. After a shower to rinse the sludge of his guests from your form, you gave yourself to him against the wall, with your leg hoisted into the air and then again on the dinner table, where, in a fit of passion, he’d knocked one of the wine glasses to the floor. There was rarely ever a night where James would only take you once. Once was never enough to him, he craved you in ways unimaginable to you.

James withdrew his hand from your thigh to place it on the wheel, navigating around a particularly tight turn. “Well, my dear. How shall we finish off our evening? Dinner as usual? See a picture perhaps?”

You’d spent the early part of your day having brunch at a quaint little cafe a few miles from the Hotel, a darling walk on the beach, and dinner at one of his favourite restaurants. James drove — he insisted. It was the one day a year he got to do anything besides sit in the garage. Someone had polished his cherry-red 1920s ReVere convertible the night before, perhaps Miss Evers, perhaps him. Part of you thought it might’ve been him, because you could easily picture him meticulously polishing this beauty of a car, readying it for a day of gallivanting around Los Angeles.

“James,” you replied, scooting closer on the seat, the silken fabric of your dress slipping easily on the leather interior. The breeze wafted his cologne in your direction and you filled your lungs with it unabashedly — god, he smelled good. “My answer is the same every single year. As long as I’m spending time with you, I’d do anything.”

Anything. He seemed to roll that word over and over in his mind. Any-thing. As though you were beholden with a need to fulfil his wants and desires, you never protested to anything he suggested.

“In that case… something new.” he murmured as he turned the wheel suddenly, veering off the main highway. The wheels crunched the gravel beneath as he wound higher up, before pulling into a small alcove that overlooked the ocean.

This was new.

He killed the engine, letting you both fall into silence. Aside from the crashing of the waves against the rocks and the occasional car driving by, there was nothing. Just nature and the two of you. You must’ve been somewhere around Malibu, you thought. Maybe farther. Perhaps Zuma. You hadn’t been paying attention, but regardless of where, the sight was breathtaking. A romantic spot. Had he brought other girls here? Perhaps to murder them. Surely, the ocean provided an excellent disposal system.

“It’s beautiful out here, James…” you whispered softly.

“As are you. Far more so.”

With your cheeks aflame, you turned away from the coastline to face him. He was staring at you, with one arm stretched casually over the back of the seat. You knew he was analysing you and shamelessly drinking in your presence — savouring the little things that the Hotel Cortez failed to provide; the way the salty air blew your hair about, the chill that made you shiver ever so slightly, the way the sun seemed to wash your skin in gold…

“What? What are you thinking? You’re always so pensive.” you asked, reaching out to cup the side of his strong jawline. He clasped his hand over yours, leaning into it, and turning his face so he could kiss your palm.

“Mm, perhaps — mm.” Another kiss and he brought your hand down to his lap, resting it upon his clothed thigh. “Perhaps I just take you here, my little hummingbird. Right here.” The way he spoke was threatening and lusty, and sent a chill down your spine. You shivered closer to him.

“Perhaps you do…” you said. Although you weren’t from his time, you found yourself mimicking his speech style, and he always seemed delighted when you did. A gem amongst a flooding sea of lingo that he loathed and refused to understand. He was a sharp fellow; he could decipher what certain things meant, but he was as bright as he was stubborn.

James leaned over in his seat, the leather creaking with his weight and with a murmuring sigh, he pressed his lips to the top of your shoulder, skin exposed where the hem of the dress had slipped down. He peppered delicate kisses along your collarbone, dipping down to the front of your décolleté and inhaled deeply. You shivered, tittering girlishly at the sensation of his moustache tickling your chest. “Such a delightful girl you are,” he crooned, his syrupy soft voice melting into you.

While he continued kissing, his large fingers trailed down the front of your dress, watching your reaction carefully. Your breath hitched as he neared your centre and James paused, looking deeply into your eyes. You bit your bottom lip, and crushed your mouth against his, warm and heavy. As he deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping out to find yours, the sun sank below the horizon, and James slid his left arm behind your back, wrapping it strongly around your waist.

Even on the one day he was free to be amongst the living, he remained ghostly. His lips were soft and cool, and the inside of his mouth had a particular unnatural chill that sent a wave of goosebumps erupting across your skin. Still, you loved kissing him. You loved the way he’d devour you, encircling your tongue like it was caught in a tango. James always held you when he kissed you, asserting that either you’d not escape, or that you felt safe in his arms. Perhaps a confusing melange of both.

A car zipped past, the headlights illuminating your indecency and you jumped, suddenly aware that despite the privacy of the alcove, you two were still in a public place. More than that, you were fooling around like two teenagers in a public place, just off the main highway. Scandalous. “James! What if someone sees!”

“Let them, my darling. Allow them a glimpse of the greatest pleasures they’ll never know.”

James fingered the hem of your panties, before slipping underneath the satin. He stroked the mound of flesh tenderly, trailing down between the slit of your cunt until he found your entrance. The wetness greeted him quicker than he’d anticipated as told by the devilish smirk that tightened his features. On instinct, your legs spread slightly, giving him more room to work. The reality was that you were already craving more of his touch and hoped to entice him deeper. Still, you couldn’t help but be embarrassed that you were so wet already.

“It’s your kissing, James…” you explained. “It always gets me going… I can’t help it.”

“You’re apologising?”

“Well, no, yes— aaah !”

James clicked his tongue disapprovingly. His large hand cupped your cunt, middle finger encircling your clit gently. Throngs of energy shot up the front of your torso, making you tremble instantaneously. James watched as you writhed and wriggled underneath him, though his strong arm kept you close to his body. “Speak up, my dear.”

You swallowed hard, trying to find the words amidst your brain’s white, hot fog. “I… I’m uh… my god, I wasn’t sure if it… James, my god, please. I can’t get a word out.”

“That’s alright, I can gather what you meant. Nonsense.”

Carefully finding the entrance again, James slid two fingers inside and you let out a gasp, clamping your eyes shut and letting your mouth fall open. Exhaling desperate, breathy moans as his fingers curled inside, finding the spongey flesh with ease. You arched your back, bracing your neck against the back of the seat. As he worked your clit and your g-spot simultaneously, you blindly felt for his groin. Beneath ironed dress pants, you felt the shape of his cock, warm and stiff. James March was many things, and well endowed was one of them. With a playful pout contorting your plump lips, you stroked it outside of his trousers for a few moments, teasing him to the point of frustration. He clenched his teeth, hissing through them.

“James,” you purred. “Then, let me…”

Hips first, he scooted closer, giving you unspoken permission to touch him. You found the waist of his pants, slid the button out and reached in. Inside of you, James’ fingers stopped moving at the sensation, and he huffed breathily in your ear. Although you’d touched him many times, he never seemed to get used to the feeling and always responded to it with the most delighted, euphoric reaction. You yanked the waistband of his briefs down to free his cock.

Keeping eye contact, you worked the saliva up with your tongue, collecting it in your mouth. Once you’d had a mouthful, you bent at the waist and parted your lips, letting your spit fall onto the head, glazing it. James hissed, watching you with a depraved glimmer in his eyes. You were so polite, so innocent, and yet…

With a honeyed sigh, you began playing with him, gliding your fingers over the deep red skin of his head, pressing your thumb into the flesh and squishing more pre-cum from the tip. It was hot to the touch, and with no conscious decision of his own, it began thrusting into the circle of your grip. You made a loose fist, allowing the length of his cock to slide in and out of it. He found his natural rhythm again, pumping his thick digits in and out of your cunt.

Moving your hand further down his shaft, you reached the base, and squeezed gently. The addicting sensation of rigidity, paired with the soft, pliable skin had you biting your lip as you worked his cock in and out of your fingers. James let out a desperately hungry whine, and pressed his thumb into your clit. His chest was heaving now, and his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he leaned back against the seat.

You whimpered, and dragged your hand upwards, jerking him off faster. His cock was rigid and burning up — he liked this a lot . Perhaps it was voyeurism, perhaps it was circumstance, but whatever it was, it had him acting feral. In turn, that had you acting similarly. You spread your legs further, undulating your hips to further the sensation along. The coil in your tummy wound tighter and tighter until it finally snapped, and you gushed around his fingers, pulsating in tight clenches. Your lips parted, allowing a drawn out moan to flutter breathily out. To James, it was akin to music. Cries of sex and cries of agony were so similar.

As you came, his lips found the side of your neck, sucking and nibbling at the sweet flesh that greeted him. He groaned and snarled into your skin, murmuring lascivious words directly into your ear. You shivered with each one, laughing breathily between moans.

You felt a particular tension within him, and kept your speed, running your thumb along the underside of the head. His breath hitched in his throat. He pumped his fingers faster, curling them deeper into your cunt. His thumb repeatedly bumped into your clit, sending you into a blurry, eye-watering state of euphoria. Beneath your dress, your thighs quivered, trembled with overstimulation. There was suddenly a burn deep within your core that you knew all too well — the second orgasm.

“Don’t — don’t stop…!” He ordered. Despite your quivering muscles, you continued playing with his thick cock. With a coy smile, you leaned forward, angling your open mouth over the head of his dick. Teasingly, you’d lean away every time he bucked his hips upward, seeking out the slick, warmth of your mouth.

“Diabolical!” Sweat glistened across his forehead, his neck reddened with pleasure. You smirked up at him, peering at him through your lashes. Admittedly, you were being rather naughty, but it was so fun to see such a pristine man come undone.

James never worried about stains; Miss Evers could get anything out of anything. So, he came enthusiastically, his entire body tightening and convulsing with the waves of his orgasm. He bucked his hips hard into the grip of your hand as tears of white wept from the slit, cascading over your knuckles and dribbled in large, sticky droplets onto his pants. One hit the bottom of your lip, and as you pulled away, you made a show of wiping it from your mouth before flattening your tongue against the pad of your finger.

As he came down from the high, you watched him silently. You two were submerged in darkness, but the glow from the highway’s street lamps illuminated him in a shadowed, film noir sort of way, chiseling his jaw and bringing the soulless blackness back to his eyes. This was the James you knew. The dark one, the one that was soft for you, but underneath his lust and adoration, you knew he wondered what you’d sound like dying.

“Was that good?”

“That’s not the word I’d use, my dear…”

You grinned to yourself, fiddling with the hem of your dress. James heaved a sigh and tucked his softening cock back into his pants, adjusting it until it was comfortable.

“I’ve a splendid idea. Why don’t you show me your home?” He asked, though it was more of a demand; he’d already made up his mind as he started the car.

“My home?” Immediately, panic flowed over you as he began to drive back the way you’d come. Had you done the dishes? Was the bed made? That pile of dirty clothes on the chair in your bedroom — had you put that away? You didn’t have Miss Evers to clean up after you, and once you came home from work, you wanted to do nothing but relax. “God, there has to be something more interesting than that to do.”

James waved his hand at you dismissively, ignoring your concerns, before returning it to the steering wheel and pulling back onto the main highway, headed back to Los Angeles. Anxiety made the drive feel short; you spent half of the ride trying to visualise the state you’d left your apartment in, and the rest of the ride sheepishly giving him directions, pointing to the necessary exits.

Finally, he pulled up in front of the curb. You looked towards your front door, nervously. It wasn’t a dump, but it certainly lacked the lustre and grandeur of the Cortez.

“Love your costume,” a girl said to James as you passed them. He turned to protest, but you immediately grabbed his arm, towing him towards your front door with a hurried, “Thank you! We love the 20’s!”

You filled your lungs with air, took a deep breath and opened the door. You peeked through with one eye at first, lessening the blow. Thankfully, aside from a hoodie, and a pair of socks, the living room looked… clean. The kitchen was another story; you hadn’t done dishes in a few days, and the impressive collection of coffee cups and cereal bowls would remain in the dark.

James paraded around, taking in the place where you lived, where you spent the time that you weren’t with him. Casually, he muttered an order and he headed towards your bedroom. You straightened up, slightly confused, but reached around the back of your dress, feeling for the zipper.

He stood out front of your door, leaning his broad shoulder against the frame. “Is it here?” He asked, gesturing to the bed. “Is it here that you pleasure yourself?”

Holding the front of your dress to your chest, you turned, blushing. “S-sometimes. Other times it’s in the shower. But most of the time… most of the time - yes.”

“Touch yourself… go on. Consider it a late birthday present.”

He’d made the demand impossible to deny now. A birthday present? You couldn’t be rude. You whimpered nervously as you dropped the dress to the floor, stepping out of the circle of it. Eyes locked on him, you sat down on the bed, scooting backwards until you felt your pillows. With a shaky inhalation, you leaned back and allowed your fingers to trail slowly down your stomach towards your cunt. Once you found her, she was soft and warm, and the entrance was still slightly slick from earlier.

“I want to see what it is that you do…” he crooned lowly. “…exactly how you do it. The only difference now is that you don’t need to imagine anything, my buttercup. I’m right here.”

“Well,” you paused at that, eyes drifting to your bedside table. “Exactly? I usually use my uh…” You rolled onto your side, pulled the drawer opened and produced a deep red coloured vibrator. “This.”

“Ah, yes . A vibrator.”

Incredulously, you asked: “You know what this is?”

“Ahh, my dear.” Hooking his thumb around his suspenders, he pulled them down over his shoulders. “Electric vibrators were invented before I was a twinkle in my mother’s eye. Doctors used them to… relieve hysteria in females. By the twenties, they were a common household item — of course I know what that is. I wasn’t born yesterday, you know.

You laid, stunned, at the momentary history lesson. You’d had no idea that James knew what a vibrator was, and moreover, seemed to know more about them than you did. One button at a time, James began undressing himself, watching you as you brought the vibrator to life with a muted buzzing. You neared the tip of the vibrator to your clit, but paused. James opened his shirt, draping it carefully over the end of your bed frame.

His pale chest, lightly muscled, was now on display for you. The visual blindsided you, and you found yourself staring, letting your eyes trail up and down his form. You’d seen him shirtless — and even nude — so many times that you’d memorized his body at this point, but it never failed in taking your breath away.

“Well…” you started, snapping yourself out of your stupor. “You were, but… not… actually yesterday. But you were born yesterday.”

“Quite right. In 1895. Therefore, I know what a vibrator is, and I know how you use one — so… use it.”

You bowed your head shyly, and pressed the vibrator to your clit. You’d turned it up high; the sensation sent a shockwave through your core, and you jerked forward up onto your elbows.

The sight of a shirtless James at the edge of your queen size bed was enough to make you cum again. He looked so out of place in your modern room, but there was something incredibly sexy about it — a fantasy. Something you’d pictured hundreds of times.

The vibrator buzzed on, drilling into the bundle of nerves with mechanical ease. You slipped it over your clit, and swept it side to side before plunging it deep into your cunt; it slipped in with a slick swallow. James wouldn’t take his eyes off you, watching every moment of this erotic torture that you were bestowing upon yourself. You writhed, kicked and moaned… and yet, you still continued. Your breathing was erratic, your breasts rising and falling with each breath you took. You brought the vibrator back out for more clitoral stimulation, and crushed your head into the pillow beneath your head, forcing it down into the mattress as you slid the smooth plastic between your folds.

“ Aaauuuuuggggh… . My god, fuck….”

“That’s it, good girl.”

Your cunt clenched, your lids falling shut. You continued pumping the vibrator in and out, feeling every throb that she gave. You rubbed the angled tip over your clit, edging yourself further. Your legs were shaking again, you were close.

“No no, eyes on me.”

Your lids snapped open, absolutely willing to take in the visual before you. For the first time in long time, you didn’t need to rely on your imagination; everything you desired was currently crawling up towards you from the end of the bed with his pants hanging open and a dastardly smirk on his lips.

“Ffffuuuuck,” you breathed. “Fuck, you’re so hot.”

Your gaze hungrily dropped to his groin, gobbling up the visual; the outline of his hardened cock beneath his briefs. This had gotten him worked up again, and you knew what was coming next. Or maybe next, after you.

James interlaced your fingers, lifting your hand from yourself and freeing you from the pleasuring. It was his turn. The vibrator dropped to the mattress, still buzzing. Your hand came down on the bed sheets, blindly slapping around until you found it. With a hard press from your thumb, you silenced it.

You were gasping for air like a fish, begging for relief. He had stopped you, edged you just before you came, and the warning clenches were hot and angry. Wordlessly, James climbed atop of you, supporting himself with a hand on either side of your head as he gazed down at you. His eyes danced over your form, lingering at your pulse as it throbbed in your neck — he always was innately interested in your heartbeats and your pulses, he’d press his hand your heart during orgasms, feeling the organ as it hammered an erratic rhythm through your skin. You chewed your lip, gazing right back up at him. He was so handsome; your stomach feeling like a bundle of fried and deeply tangled wires every time you looked at him. You were never sure what about yourself had enchanted him so deeply, but it was an obsession. It was something that tormented him, and needed to be constantly sated.

He reached into his briefs, letting his cock bounce free. It bobbed heavily, bumping into the lower part of your stomach, twitching to find something to penetrate. Beads of pre-cum fell, stringing from his cock to your skin, connecting you two for a brief moment before it stretched and snapped, falling just below your belly button.

He lowered his arms, bringing his mouth to your breast, where he began peppering kisses along the fullness of them. His teeth grazed your nipple and your back arched, a moan escaping as he bit down, just hard enough to cause a twinge of pain — you jerked your hips upwards, pressing his cock back up against his own stomach. The pressure brought a syrupy “Oooh” from his throat.

His cheek was suddenly pressed against yours, his lips by your ear. “I can’t very well fuck you with these on…” His fingers hooked around the elastic of your underwear, snapping them back against your skin. You immediately swung into action, shimmying them down over the curve of your ass, and down your thighs.

“There… all better.” You whispered into his ear, kissing the side of his face.

At that, James straightened up and angled his hips down before pressing them hips into you, urging the head of his cock to breach your entrance. You scooted further down on the mattress to meet his hips, and pushed him just a little bit deeper than he’d already gone. You revelled in the sensations; the hot stinging stretch before the release as the head slipped in, the fullness of his girth pressing against your slick walls, and finally, the ache as he bottomed out, his groin bumping roughly against yours.

His thrusts were quick and deep. You felt the immediacy of his need, the surging desire that coursed through him like electricity. Dark strands fell into his eyes as he slammed his cock into you, drilling deep into your cunt. Every slick, hungry pull of your cunt drove him wild, it was a feeling unlike any other. Not even Elizabeth, with all of her dominating energy, had made James growl in ecstasy like you did.

He straightened up, took hold of your hips and quickly found a rhythm of pulling you onto his cock — your eyes rolled back in your head. Your skin flushed, a sheen of sweat covering both your bodies.

“J-James,” you stuttered. He nodded in response, buried too deeply in his euphoria to respond. “It feels so good — oh god… oh-oh god.”

You felt the sensation of your hot, aching cunt tightening. A moan caught in your chest, and your breath shuddered. As she released in a series of throbs, you rocked your hips against him, pulling James closer to you, wrapping your arms around his scarred back.

He bucked his hips a final time, bottoming out, before he moved his hips haphazardly, bunny humping you. Strings of white coated your insides, you felt it ooze from your hole as he pulled his cock from you.With a sigh, James rolled off of you, and flopped heavily next to you, staring aimlessly up at the ceiling as his breathing slowed.

“You are… sensational, my little pet. Sensational.”

A smile on your lips, you reached for your phone, tapping the side button to illuminate it. Your smile faded quickly; the sun would be rising within the next two hours and your romantic day would be over. Until next year. You weren’t ready for the night to end, and rotated your body on the bed.

“James,” you murmured, stroking his chest with a single finger. “Can I sleep with you tonight?”

“You never need to ask, my dear.”

As soon as you two walked through the doors of the Hotel, you spotted her. Countess. Elizabeth. She was standing on the second floor, wearing a silvery house robe and presumably nothing else, arms spread out on the railing like wings. She glared down at you.

With a kind smile in her direction, you pulled yourself closer to James as he made his way towards the stairs. She glowered, all but snarling her plump, red lips at you as you ascended. James had told stories of how… tempestuous his ex-wife was, but further, how uninterested in him she was. Was she truly so cruel that the moment he took joy in having someone else, she wanted to crush that?

“James,” she sneered from above, not bothering to address you. You rolled your eyes so hard they ached; her constant bitchiness was alluring, terrifying at first, but it had now become nothing more than an annoyance, akin to the whining of a mosquito. “Have fun on your day off?”

“Immeasurably.” He replied, curtly.

“And what did you two do, hmmm?” Her voice was breathy and hoarse, and even given the tryingly aloof words, was still delicious to listen to. It was a shame she wasted her breath on such immaturities.

“Now, now. Jealousy doesn’t suit you, my dear. Don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answers to.”

You smiled. Of course she’d be jealous; after all… it wasn’t her that James had just pumped full.

t a g l i s t : @kaismanwich / @redwoodghost / @elsamars / @silverzoomies / @tatesdisasterofalover / @thewolveswithin / @80strashbag / @twinkiemaximoff / @spill-the-t / @stucktothetwo / @evansb1tch / @enchanting-evan / @yesdevineruler / @anonymous0316 / @eventually27 / @violetharmonscupcake / @my-own-walker / @kai-slut / @fuckedbykai / @iluwmycats / @dewberryobssesed / @the-goblin1 / @dirtyfairy97 / @jellyluvr / @strangerthings420 / @kai-anderson-whore / @piecesofcain / @lilthbunny / @quickandsilvers / @tatelangdonsweater / @ifeeltoofuckingmuch / @howtobesasha / @randodummy / @poltoreveur /

#Happy Halloween #James Patrick March #AHS Hotel #James Patrick March x reader #James Patrick March x you #ahs smut #ahs fanfiction #American Horror Story #lizzieshalloweenfics #myfics

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 1 year

Text

Brief history of this request! 🤡 I originally wrote this as a response to it; the original interaction went up a little while before the book 7 part 3 update was released… and that update happened to give us a lot more information about the Shroud family dynamics. It was unfortunately bad timing!

This post is a rewrite which incorporates the new Shroud family canon from the update.

***Contains major plot spoilers for book 6 of the main story!***

Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.

The students of Night Raven College had become accustomed to rather odd sightings—so when young Ortho Shroud sailed by them with two floating tablets in tow, no one batted an eye at it. That shut-in brother of his, the rumor was, maybe he multiplied. In a sense, there was truth to that theory.

“It’s so nice to have the whole family together!” gushed a woman’s squeaky voice from one device. “Isn’t it, Papa? Everyone’s so busy, we hardly get to do these kinds of things anymore.”

Beside her, her husband cleared his throat. He replied with a blunt, somewhat stiff, “Mmm, quite. It is… certainly a different environment than the laboratory.”

Idia didn’t know which was worse—his mother’s smothering cuteness, or his father’s calculating aloofness. The love and the logic. In anime and manga, they were amusing enough archetypes. But in reality? Cringe with a capital C, especially when they were acting as a unit in public.

He could feel the heat of his peers’ gazes directed at him as they passed like phantoms trailing over a graveyard. The curiosity, the whispers, the stares. The only thing that was keeping Idia sane was the safety offered by his tablet’s screen.

Hunkered down in his Ignihyde bedroom, he was safe from direct judgment—but not free of the embarrassment his parents provided. No, that was always eternal.

“Wh-Why did you guys even bothering showing up on the NRC Family Day banner…” Idia grumbled under his breath. Man, the one time I didn’t want to pull the SSRs… and they came home anyway!

There was an appalled gasp from the end of the line. “Of course Mama and Papa came! It’s Family Day. It’s a time us parents to see what mischief our genius little boys have gotten up to while they’re away!”

Idia couldn’t see his mother’s image on her screen, but he could only imagine she was winking in a conspiring manner to Mr. Shroud. He would give an awkward smile beneath his helmet and probably say something in agreement with her.

“Ideally, we’ve have liked to come in person,” his mother continued.

Mr. Shroud cleared his voice and neatly cut in. “However, with the recent incident… well, let’s just say we’ve had to lay low and wait for the dust to settle. My staff are working overtime moderating the metrics of this situation.”

“Quite right, dear! We can’t exactly waltz into Night Raven College! It would put us at risk of being scrutinized, especially with all the viral internet rumors swirling around.”

“Shadowy secret organization puppeteers Twisted Wonderland,” Mr. Shroud recited, shaking his head in disapproval, “Lizard people real, global warming is a hoax, tap water turning the frogs gay… Where do the youths come up with such preposterous claims?”

They’re covering their bases, Idia told himself. After that incident… We never wiped the subjects’ memories with the River Lethe. It exposes a chink in our armor—they could talk, spread what they know.

Then… Th-There’s no way people wouldn’t be curious. Internet sleuths with nothing better to do will dig up dirt from the most obscure corners of the web and tout it as truth!! That’s why even STYX has been having such a hard time containing it.

“What are you gonna do? Haters gonna hate.” Idia shrugged. “… I get it. You don’t have to go explaining yourselves to us. It’s a waste of breath.”

Cynicism slipped in at the last second. A habit, hard to squash.

Ortho chimed in, clearing the air with his cheer. “Nii-san’s right! What’s important is that we get to spend time together, bonding like any other family does.”

He extended his arms to them, as if reaching for hands to hold. Bur though there was nothing for the android to grasp, there was no hiding his effervescent smile. “I’m really happy that we can do this!”

Idia’s heart, so familiar with the ice that encased the Phantoms and the chill of Tartarus, melted. “Ortho…”

An ear-splitting squeal came from one of the tablets. “Kyaaaah! You’re so cute, Or-kun!! Mama wishes she was right there on Sage’s Island to squish your little face!! You too, Idia-kun! Don’t think you can escape from your mother!”

Mr. Shroud’s voice dragged into a patient sigh. “We discussed keeping a low profile.”

“Aww, but papa!” (Idia could practically hear the pout in her tone.) “It’s a parent’s instinct to want to hug and shower her children with love~”

“Y-You’re going to attract unwanted attention though…” Idia nervously pointed out—one thing he could see eye-to-eye with his father on. They were split down the middle.

Through his camera, he could already spot passerbys slowing and staring. Sweat collected on his palms, on his forehead.

“What’s going on over there…?”

“There’s a boy with blue flames for hair.”

“Is he a Shroud?”

“He has weird things floating around him.”

Unperturbed, Ortho waved at the curious gawkers. “Hello!! I’m spending time with my family today!” he announced with his full chest out.

“Aw, what an adorable kid.”

“Are they phoning in? Gosh, they must be busy—but they still care enough to attend. That’s great!”

“Have fun with your family, champ!!”

Eh? Ehhhhh?! What’s what this after-school special I’m seeing play out?! Everyone’s so upbeat and sparkling… a-almost like one of Cater-shi’s impossible Magicam filters was just applied to the whole campus!!

Something in Idia wanted to scoff at the sight, to dismiss it outright. For as long as he could remember, the Shrouds had been shunned by the sunlight. A bloodline cursed by the gods. Never to be heroes, never normal.

But if Ortho is happy, then… this was all worth it, wasn’t it?

Yet something else, too, called out. Some small, almost forgotten, fragmented part of him. A small flower growing in the darkest pits of the Underworld.

Hope.

A zero that had suddenly turned into 0.001%. Connected again, heart to heart—even if only for a single fleeting moment.

“… Dad, mom, Ortho,” Idia said slowly, “we can’t stand around like NPCs waiting to be talked to. We’ll miss out on the limited time event. Let’s go, the whole party.”

“Nii-san…!!”

Ortho’s whole face lit up, his joy turning absolutely electric. He nearly tackled Idia’s device as he seized it and spun in a giddy circle. There was laughter from the younger Shroud, and confused sputtering from the elder one.

“Would you look at that, Papa?” Mrs. Shroud giggled softly to herself. “It looks like our boys have become such good friends.”

“… That’s good,” her husband replied. “I was concerned that Idia was still beside himself with grief—but thankfully, he’s made tremendous progress.”

“Ehehehe. It’s all thanks to Or-kun coming into our lives. He ended up being the password to unlocking Idia’s almost impenetrable fire walls.”

“Indeed. Our children have come a long way.” The corners of Mr. Shroud’s lips threatened to pull up and back. “No longer boys, but young men.”

#twst #twisted wonderland #Ignihyde #Ortho Shroud #Idia Shroud #disney twisted wonderland #spoilers #NRC Family Day #twst interactions #twisted wonderland interactions #twst scenarios #twst imagines #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland scenarios

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smilingformoney · 2 months

Text

The Eternal Summer

IV. Cowboy Blues

Summary: Elliott Marston/Reader | Judge Turpin/Reader | Elliott makes his intentions clear - just in time for Turpin's arrival.

Read now on Ao3 or below the cut:

It had been the longest, strangest month of your life.

What you and Elliott were, you couldn’t say. But it certainly wasn’t what anyone had envisaged when your husband had ordered you to keep his cousin’s bed warm while he made arrangements in Melbourne.

For one thing, he was only supposed to be a few days behind you. Yet here you were, one month later, still at Elliott’s station with no way of knowing where your husband was, if he was ever coming to collect you, or if he was even still alive.

You begged Elliott to send men to Melbourne to search for news of Judge Turpin, but with Quigley on a rampage in the outback, Elliott’s men were dwindling every day, and he couldn’t spare any until Quigley was put down.

So you were left in limbo, separated from your husband, unable to move on.

All you knew for sure was that you didn’t want to let go of how comfortable you were with Elliott. You welcomed his touch, his kisses, and when he took you, you felt like he was giving you pleasure just as much as he was taking his own.

Yet you still missed your husband, and it made everything so much harder. Your cunt might be on loan to Elliott, but was it even possible for your heart to be too?

One morning, you must have seemed particularly down, because Elliott asked you to accompany him somewhere. He didn’t say where, or why - he simply saddled up his horse, ensured you were securely sat behind him, and rode a few miles west, until he finally slowed the horse to a stop and helped you down.

You looked around. You were at a nearby town, in the graveyard behind the church. Elliott reached into the bag affixed to the saddle and withdrew a bunch of flowers. He took you by the hand and silently led you to a grave.

The gravestone was one of the larger ones like you’d seen in the graveyard of St Dunstan’s in London, which were double the width to accommodate two graves: those of a husband and wife. This gravestone, like some of those, marked one grave and one reserved plot; one spouse had died and waited to be joined by the other.

A wilted dark-crimson rose sat at the foot of the grave. Elliott bent down to clear it away and replaced it with a single pink carnation from the flowers in his hand. As he stood up, you looked at the gravestone and read:

Here lies Victoria Marston 1826 - 1860

Underneath was a blank slate, room reserved for her husband - for Elliott.

“We were only married for a year when the sickness took her,” Elliott said quietly, speaking for the first time since you’d left the station.

You looked up at him. You knew he’d been married before, but only because he’d mentioned it once the first day you met. Otherwise, there was no trace - no belongings left behind, no children. Only this one gravestone, a plot of ground, and the flowers Elliott brought.

“It was five years ago, and still I visit her grave once a month. I loved her very much. I… still love her.”

He closed his eyes and shook his head, as if refusing to let grief take hold of him.

“I will always love her. Every day I spend with you, [Y/n], it’s… the happiest I’ve felt since I lost her. And yet, I feel twisted with guilt, as if I’m betraying her somehow. I know it’s not true, that she’s dead and gone… yet still I feel as if I’m betraying my vows to her.”

He turned to you, eyes looking into yours searchingly.

“I’m telling you this, [Y/n], because I want you to know that I understand how it feels when your heart yearns for something that goes against the vows you made. But sometimes… it’s time to move on.”

He held up the remaining flowers in his hand.

“These ones are for you.”

Red and white roses. One didn’t have to be well-versed in floriography to know what those meant.

“Elliott…”

You glanced at the pink carnation on the grave, then back to the roses in his hands.

“My husband isn’t dead, Elliott. He’s coming for me.”

How did you know? You couldn’t, not really. But a part of you knew, some part of your soul that was intrinsically linked to that of your husband, knew he was alive, and you’d see him again.

“You don’t have to leave with him, [Y/n]. You can stay. Stay here, with me. I’ll keep you safe. From him, from anything — and I would never hurt you.”

“Safe from him?” you echoed, frowning. “He’s my husband, Elliott. He’s not a danger to me.”

“No? Then why are you so frightened of him?”

You ducked your head, ashamed to let Elliott see the truth in your eyes.

“I’m not scared of him,” you lied. “I love him,” you said truthfully.

Elliott took your chin between his fingers and forced you to look at him.

“No good husband offers his wife to another.”

“And does a good man accept the offered wife?”

“I don’t claim to be a good man, [Y/n]. I never did. But I believe I was a good husband to Victoria… and I would be a good husband to you. You could be free, free to be whoever you want to be. I can give you that freedom.”

You shook your head, trying to ignore the tears that were welling in your eyes.

“Even - even if I wanted to stay, Elliott… I can’t marry you.”

“Why, because you’re already married? Petition for divorce. It would be granted on grounds of cruelty, I know it would.”

“Do you think any judge is going to let another judge’s wife divorce him?”

“Then he’ll divorce you. You’re an adulterer, after all.”

You took a step back, wiping an errant tear from your eye.

“He’d never. He loves me, Elliott. He’d fight for me.”

Elliott’s hand twitched near his gun.

“So will I.”

“Don’t you dare! Not everything can be settled with a gun, Elliott. I’d never forgive you.”

“And I’ll never forgive myself if I let you leave with him.”

“Why are you saying this now, Elliott? We’ve been… whatever this is… for a month. What’s changed today?”

Elliott gestured towards the carnation on his wife’s grave.

“I’ll always remember her. But I’m not coming back here. I want to move forward — with you, [Y/n]. We can be a family here, you, me and Tommy.”

You blinked, taken aback. “…Tommy?”

“Of course,” Elliott said as if it were obvious. “You think I’d continue employing him if I married you? From what you tell me, you practically raised him, so we’d adopt him as our own and - mmph!”

You cut him off when you grabbed him by the lapel of his waistcoat and pulled him in for a kiss. He was taken aback for a moment, but he quickly melted into the kiss, one arm wrapping around your waist to hold you tight while the other kept hold of the flowers you still hadn’t accepted from him.

You kissed him until your lips were numb, and when you finally parted for breath, your skin was sore from rubbing against his facial hair, but you didn’t care.

“Is it too late to accept those flowers?”

“Was that really all I had to say?” Elliott said breathily, and you laughed.

You took the flowers and held them up to smell them. They were fresh and stunningly beautiful. You had no idea a land as barren as Australia could bloom something so lovely.

“I’m… I’m not saying yes,” you said, your voice hardly more than a whisper. “But I’m not saying no. I need time.”

Elliott nodded.

“I understand. Shall we get home? I’m expecting Quigley to show his face any moment now, and I need to be there when he does.”

Home. Was that not London anymore?

***

You arrived at the station in the mid-afternoon, and while Elliott tied the horse, you made your way into the house to find a vase for your flowers. You heard movement in the house, but you paid it no mind, assuming Elliott’s servant was going about his business. After placing the flowers in a vase from the kitchen, you opened the door to the lounge and let out a yelp of surprise when you saw a figure sitting on the sofa with a book in hand. Your immediate thought was that it was Quigley, waiting for Elliott to get home to shoot him, but as the moment of shock passed, your mind caught up with your situation and you realised that you very much recognised the visitor, even from behind.

“William?”

Your husband turned to you. Yes, it was him, it was really him! His skin had tanned in the sun, but no doubt yours had too.

“Darling,” he said with a smile as he put the book down, and he was hardly to his feet when you threw your arms around him. You recognised his smell, the feel of his body against yours, the low rumble in his chest as he chuckled at your enthusiasm.

“Oh, Will, I was so scared,” you cried, head buried against his chest. “I thought you’d died or - or decided you didn’t want me anymore…”

“Oh, bunny, you don’t have to worry about that. I’m sorry I took so long to come for you. The administration in Melbourne is a nightmare, it took a week just to get a house, and another two until I was satisfied it was hospitable enough for you. Did you miss me, then?”

You sniffed and looked up at him. “Very much so. I don’t want to be parted from you for so long ever again.”

William smiled. “You won’t, I swear it. I need my bunny, after all. Won’t you greet your husband with a kiss?”

You squealed happily and lifted yourself on your tip-toes to kiss him. You’d missed this so much, his warmth, his touch, his taste. William wrapped his arms around your waist and held you close against him, his tongue desperately seeking yours, as if a month without you had parched him desperately.

Hearing movement and voices from within his house, Elliott kept his hand over the barrel of his gun as it sat in its holster, ready to whip it out at a moment’s notice. When he pushed open the door and saw another man holding you close, lips and tongue accosting yours, he nearly did draw his gun - until he realised who it was.

He was still tempted to shoot him down.

“Finally arrived, then, cousin,” Elliott said instead, leaning back against the doorframe with his arms folded, as if it were a perfectly normal scene for him to walk on.

You made a muffled grunt of surprise, as if you’d completely forgotten whose house you were in. William finally withdrew his tongue from you, panting heavily, his eyes blown with lust as he looked down at you with a hungry grin.

“Elliott!” you exclaimed, looking over to him, and you felt a pang of guilt when you saw the way he was watching you. “So sorry for the lack of decorum. But isn’t it wonderful? William’s finally here, and he’s alright!”

“Yes. Wonderful.”

“You could be happier to see me, Elliott,” William said with a raised eyebrow, finally tearing his eyes from you to address his cousin. “You’ll no longer be encumbered with hosting duties. I do apologise for stretching your hospitality so far.”

“Nonsense, [Y/n]'s been excellent company,” Elliott replied with a nonchalant shrug. “She’s patched up all my clothes, and my men’s, and fulfilled all the duties she would if she were my own wife.”

“Yes, I bet she has. Well, we’ll be off soon, so you won’t have to bear her company much longer.”

“Do we leave very soon, my love?” you enquired, fear suddenly striking your heart that you might find yourself leaving Elliott too soon.

“Not tonight, obviously, it’s getting dark. And I’m not just here for you, darling, I have other matters to attend to. This Quigley business, Elliott, we’re hearing all about it in Melbourne and he’s stirring up quite a storm. If he shows up here, I’ll arrest him and bring him in for trial myself.”

“Oh, no need to trouble yourself with Quigley, William, I’m expecting him soon enough and I’ve got it quite in hand.”

Elliott patted the gun on his hip with a confident smirk.

“You’re aware of the arrangement I have with Major Ashley-Pitt?”

“Yes, well, if you kill him, so be it. It’ll be much less hassle than escorting him back to Melbourne. Now, if you don’t mind, it’s been a long ride and I’d like some rest. Do you have suitable quarters?”

Elliott scratched his beard thoughtfully. “Well, there’s the men’s quarters, but that’s not good enough for a man of your standing, I suppose. The only bed I’d imagine is suitable would be my own. Go ahead and make use of it, I can bear to sleep in the lodge for a night.”

“Very gracious of you, Elliott, thank you.”

“Of course. Get yourself rested up, William, I’ll get the servant to make dinner for three tonight.”

“Excellent. Come along, [Y/n].”

William placed a hand on your lower back. You glanced at Elliott apologetically, then allowed your husband to guide you to the bedroom.

“Lord have mercy, [Y/n], the hold you have on me,” William said with a groan of relief as he pushed the door closed behind him. “I’ve been unable to sleep without you by my side. Dress off, darling, I need to see you.”

He assisted you with the lace of your dress, although his method seemed to involve a lot more breast-fondling than your own. You let the dress fall away, and William let out a moan of desire when your breasts popped out of the bodice. He grabbed at the waistband of your bloomers and pushed them to the floor, then stood back to get a good look at you.

“Even more beautiful than I remembered. Have you lost weight?”

You looked down and examined your figure. “I suppose I have,” you mused. “The food isn’t as luxurious out here as it is in London.”

“Hmm, I hope Elliott’s been feeding you properly. I won’t have my wife wasting away.”

William placed his hands on your hips as he looked you up and down appraisingly. He smirked in satisfaction, then turned you around to look at you from behind. He ran his hands over your rear, and you shivered with anticipation. William hummed with approval, then pulled your body against him, his hard cock pressing against you through his trousers.

“Oh, I have missed this. Have you missed me, bunny?”

“Yes, yes, I missed you so much, my teddy bear,” you mumbled, then gasped when William slid a hand between your legs and pushed a finger into your folds. He slipped in with ease, and you heard the familiar squelching noise that betrayed your arousal.

“Mmm, you must think me such a cruel husband, getting you addicted to my cock then taking it away for a month. How your cunt must have cried out for me. No matter… I’m here now, and I’m going to live in your cunt until you swell with child. Get on the bed, darling, else I won’t be able to contain myself much longer.”

“How do you want me, sir?” you asked obediently as William stepped back from you to undress himself.

“However you want, darling. It’s the least I can do after starving you for so long.”

He was letting you choose the position? Perhaps a month in Australia had changed him, too.

You climbed onto the bed and laid on your back, head on the pillows, your legs open and ready for him.

“Ah, classic missionary, is it? If my bunny insists.”

“I want to see you, Will.”

William grinned. “Good. I want to watch your face as I fuck you again. I had to take the whores in Melbourne from behind, I couldn’t stand looking at their faces knowing they weren’t you.”

Your heart dropped, and you shrunk into yourself slightly. William, meanwhile, finished undressing himself and climbed on top of you, apparently unaware of the effect of what he’d said.

“You… took whores in Melbourne?” you asked quietly.

“Of course I did,” William replied curtly, as if the question were obvious and bothersome. “You know how hot-blooded I am, darling. Did you expect me to abstain for a month? Don’t worry, I didn’t finish inside any of them. Now, keep your legs nice and wide for me, bunny…”

You obeyed, although your heart wasn’t in it anymore. He slipped inside you with ease, and you whined as you felt him stretching you out, and though you’d ached to see his blissful face again, now you felt nothing but anguish knowing he’d shared that same intimacy with however many whores he’d found in Melbourne.

You wished now you’d asked him to take you from behind so you could hide your face from him. You settled instead for wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders and burying your face in his neck, letting him think it an act of intimacy, when really you were hiding the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes.

It had been a long time since you’d tried to hide your anguish as William fucked you into the bed, uncaring if he even noticed your feelings, but it was a skill you’d picked up early and one you remembered now as easy as breathing.

He was grunting loudly with each thrust, and if you didn’t know any better, you might have thought he was being loud on purpose, making sure that Elliott could hear you from the lounge, reminding him that he was your husband, reclaiming your cunt that had merely been on loan.

Elliott could, indeed, hear his cousin’s passions through the walls. He heard William’s grunts, the squeaking of the bedsprings, the thud of the headboard against the wall, the slapping of skin against skin. But what he distinctly didn’t hear was you. He knew how vocal you were; with the intensity of the way you were being fucked right now, you should have been moaning too. So why weren’t you?

He knew he should leave. He could sit out on the porch, practise shooting, get some work done around the station. He had no cause to sit at his desk as he was now, staring blankly at his ledger, fooling himself that he intended to work when all he could do was sit and listen to another man taking you in his own bed.

Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to leave. He thought that if he did, William might know somehow that he wasn’t there to protect you, and what was now just selfish lovemaking would turn into something worse.

So he stayed, staring blankly at the ledger, and when half an hour had passed, Elliott had to give his cousin credit where it was due - he had considerable stamina for his age.

Eventually, Elliott became so used to the noise that it became background noise, and he was actually able to get some work done. By the time the noise stopped and William’s grunts were shortly replaced by his snoring, an hour had passed.

Elliott closed his ledger with a sigh, then stood up to stretch his legs. Just as he did so, the bedroom door opened, and he spotted you in a nightgown scurrying across the hall to the bathroom.

A few minutes later, you emerged, and you jumped when you opened the door to find Elliott standing against the doorframe, waiting for you.

“Sorry, it’s all yours,” you mumbled, thinking he wanted the bathroom. You stepped aside to let him in, but instead Elliott wrapped both arms around your waist and pulled you in close.

“Did he hurt you?” he asked, so quietly you almost couldn’t hear him, even with his lips pressed against your ear.

“No,” you replied softly.

“Then why are your legs shaking?”

You glanced down and realised that your legs were indeed shaking, as if you were a newborn foal walking for the first time.

“I’m just tired. I need to rest.”

“Come and sit down.”

“…Alright.”

Elliott led you back into the lounge and sat you down on the sofa. He disappeared into the kitchen for a few moments, then returned with a glass of water, which you took gratefully.

“I’m surprised you can ever sleep at home with those snores,” Elliott commented as he sat down next to you and delicately wrapped an arm around your waist.

You smiled. “It took some getting used to, but now I can’t sleep without the sound of snoring. That’s why I never complain about yours.”

“I don’t snore!” Elliott protested, and you laughed.

“Not as loud as that, but you do. It’s fine, I told you, I like it. Especially when I wake up first and I can feel your breath on my neck… and even in your sleep, as soon as I move you pull me in close and kiss me…”

You smiled, blushing, then your heart dropped slightly when you realised you’d probably never wake up next to him again.

Elliott looked at you, saw the sadness in your eyes, and made a decision. He took your glass from your hand and set it aside, then crouched down on one knee in front of you, taking your hands in his.

“It doesn’t have to end, [Y/n]. Stay with me.”

You closed your eyes, willing the tears not to spill.

“I can’t,” you whispered.

“[Y/n], I just had to sit here and listen to that man fuck you for an hour solid, and not once did I hear a peep from you. He doesn’t even know how to please you! You think he cares about your happiness? I can give you so much more, [Y/n]. I can give you freedom. Freedom to be who you want to be. To discover who you want to be. Tommy too, we’ll adopt him and he’ll be free from his service. Don’t you want that?”

“It’s not that simple, Elliott,” you said with a shake of your head. “I love my husband, I’d never hurt him.”

“Then let me hurt him.”

You looked up at him in disbelief through watery eyes, and you could tell from the hard look in his eyes that he was being completely serious.

“No,” you said firmly. “Not everything can be solved with a gun, Elliott.”

“Then how do we solve this?”

“Don’t you see? We don’t! We can’t. There’s no resolution here that doesn’t break my heart.”

Elliott sighed, closed his eyes resolutely, then bowed his head to steel himself. It was now or never.

He looked at you. You, with your eyes full of tears, holding them back even now in an attempt to be strong. You, who had done nothing wrong in your life, and was being punished for it with a marriage to a man you thought you loved, but when you spoke of how he treated you, how could you love a man like that?

Only a heart strong enough to love a man like Judge Turpin could be capable of loving Elliott Marston.

That was the irony of it all. If you weren’t married to his cousin, you’d be free - but you’d have never come to Australia. You’d never have met.

There was no way your love could be anything but doomed.

But it was real. He loved you, and he knew you loved him. You proved it every day with your sweet words, your blushes and smiles, your kisses and your embraces.

But you’d never say it, not while married to another man, not when to admit it was to break your own heart.

Well, his heart was breaking anyway. He might as well go all the way.

Elliott reached up to cup your face in his hands, his thumb wiping away an errant tear.

“[Y/n]… I love you.”

And there it was. The truth of the matter, laid out in three simple words.

I love you too, Elliott. Let’s get married tomorrow. We’ll adopt Tommy, have more children of our own and live out our lives together as far from London as we can get.

That was what you wanted to say. And maybe you would have but for the fact of your husband, asleep in the other room. Yes, he could be cruel, and he cared more for his own pleasure than your comfort, but without him you’d not be here at all. You’d still be on the streets of London, Tommy would have hung from the gallows, and you’d be all alone, if you were even alive.

How could you repay that with heartbreak?

So instead, you closed your eyes, not wanting to look at Elliott as you broke his heart and your own instead.

“You can’t,” you whispered. “I’m sorry, Elliott.”

“[Y/n] —”

“The lady said no, Elliott.”

Your heart dropped when you heard the familiar sound of your husband’s voice. When had the snoring stopped? How long had he been standing there in the doorway, listening to Elliott pour his heart out to you?

Elliott stood and whirled around, his hand instinctively jumping to the gun on his hip.

William had apparently been awake long enough to dress himself, although in the Australian heat he had forgone the cravat and waistcoat over his shirt.

“I let you fuck my wife for a few weeks, and this is how you repay me? By trying to steal her from me? You may have borrowed her cunt, Elliott, but her heart is mine.”

Elliott sneered, his hand tightening slightly on the handle of his gun.

“Of course she thinks she loves you, William. She had to convince herself of it, because the alternative was hating you.”

William glanced at Elliott’s hand that gripped the gun, and he smirked.

“Are you going to shoot me, cousin?”

“Here and now? No. I’d not do you the dishonour of shooting you unarmed. But if you don’t have a gun with you, I’ll lend you my second revolver.”

“Why on earth would you do that?”

Elliott stepped towards him menacingly, fingers twitching as he resisted pulling the gun out there and then.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m going to duel you for her.”

***

You hadn’t dressed in such a hurry in all your life. You were fairly certain you hadn’t laced your bodice up fully, but that was hardly your main concern right now.

You rushed outside to find the two men pacing around, each checking their guns. A small crowd of Elliott’s men had formed, jostling and laughing with each other, as if they were getting ready to watch a sports match.

You ran up to Elliott and grabbed his arm.

“Elliott, don’t do this, please!”

He looked up at you, a fierce look in his eyes.

“He’ll never let you go, [Y/n]. You know that. This is the only way.”

“I’ll never forgive you if you kill him.”

“I won’t shoot to kill. I just want to hurt him.”

You sniffed. “You’re hurting me, El.”

Elliott frowned, looking imploringly into your eyes, desperate for you to understand him, but you couldn’t.

What you did understand was that he and your husband were men, and men always did what they wanted, regardless of your feelings. This was no different.

So you stepped away, retreated to the porch, and sought comfort in Tommy, who was waiting for you there.

“Don’t look, Tommy,” you said dully, unable to tear your eyes away from the scene in front of you.

“I’ve seen loads of duels by now.”

You didn’t argue. Tommy was still a child, but he was growing into a man, and he’d do what he wanted too.

The men took their marks. Elliott had promised not to shoot to kill, but what of William? He held no issue with sending men to the gallows, but would he fire the shot himself?

Did either of them really expect you to want to be with him if he killed the other?

“This is the last chance,” called Cavanagh, who was apparently officiating the duel, as William and Elliott took their stances. “Lord Turpin, do you forfeit the duel and give your wife up to Mr Marston?”

“Of course I bloody don’t,” William snapped.

“Mr Marston, do you forfeit the duel and give up your pursuit of Lord Turpin’s wife?”

“Never.”

“Alright, then. Count of three. One, two… three.”

BANG-BANG!

The sand at Elliott’s feet blew in the air, and he laughed as he realised the shot hadn’t landed.

Your relief that Elliott was unharmed was short-lived when you looked over to William and saw that he’d fallen onto his side.

“Will!”

You ran to his side as fast as your legs would carry you over the sand, and skidded to your knees next to him. William was cradling his shin, which was bleeding profusely, and you immediately tore apart his trouser leg to expose the wound.

“Fucking bastard! He shot me! Your fucking boyfriend shot me!”

“I know, I know, I saw! Just hold still and let me look at it.”

Bloody Elliott and his bloody perfect aim. The bullet had just grazed the lower leg, and was probably lying around in the dirt somewhere. Even so, you knew from your own experience that it was a painful wound, so you didn’t begrudge the stream of swear words currently spewing from your husband’s mouth.

You tore a strip off your dress and wrapped it around his thigh to keep the bleeding as limited as you could to allow you to get him inside. You turned to Elliott’s men, who were still gawking, and shouted, “One of you help me get him inside!”

They hesitated, but behind you, Elliott nodded, so Cavanagh jogged over to pull William to his feet and let him lean on his shoulder as he hobbled back into the house.

You watched them go, fraught with worry for your husband, then turned to Elliott.

“Happy now?!”

Elliott shrugged. “I told you I wouldn’t shoot to kill. Just be glad I didn’t shoot him in the dick.”

You scoffed, then turned your back on him to follow William into the house. Cavanagh had just sat him on the sofa when you came in, and the servant poked his head around the door.

“Do you know how to clean a wound?” you asked him.

The servant nodded - why hadn’t you ever learnt his name? - and sat down on the floor, already with a cloth and bowl in his hands. How many times had he cleaned up a victim of Elliott’s gun-happy rages?

“I don’t care what he thinks his duel means,” William hissed, gritting his teeth against the pain as you knelt by his side. “He won’t have you.”

“No, of - of course not. I’m still your wife, William. I’ll always be your wife.”

“Try and leave here with her, and I won’t aim for the leg,” Elliott said from the doorway, his voice dripping with venom.

“Try it, you bloody bedswerver!” William shouted back. Whether it was the pain in his leg or the emotions of the whole situation, you couldn’t tell, but any sense of decorum your husband had was long gone. “I swear, I’ll drag you to court and sentence you myself - bloody hell, man, be careful!” he shouted at the servant, who was now dabbing rubbing alcohol on the wound.

“The only way you’ll leave here is alone or in a casket!”

“Stop it, both of you!”

You surprised even yourself. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d raised your voice - and it had certainly never been at a man.

You stood, fighting back the tears that were welling in your eyes.

“It’s always the same with you men, fighting over who has control! I’m sick of it! You both claim to love me, yet neither of you seem to give a damn what I want!”

Elliott stepped towards you, looking you in the eyes earnestly.

“Then tell us what you want, [Y/n],” he said calmly, with none of the anger he’d been showing your husband. “Look me in the eye and tell me truly you want to leave here with him, and I won’t stop you.”

You hesitated.

“I… I don’t know what I want,” you said truthfully.

William scoffed. “You never know what you want.”

“Have you ever asked her?!” Elliott spat.

“I don’t need to ask her, Elliott, I know what she wants. Better than she does! Don’t let this man poison your mind, [Y/n] —”

“Poison her mind? With what, independent thought? God forbid.”

William grunted as he pushed himself to his feet, his leg now wrapped in a bandage. He and Elliott stared daggers at each other, both men’s faces twisted with hatred. William put a possessive hand on your shoulder.

“Very well. Let her choose. She won’t choose you anyway, Elliott. What, marry you and live out here, in this backwater desert? We live a life of luxury in London, don’t we, [Y/n]? In a few months we’ll be on our way back there and this whole debacle will be behind us. You’ll be nothing but a memory to her.”

Elliott sneered, then glanced at you, and his expression softened when he saw the tears in your eyes. He looked back at William.

“We’ll sort this Quigley business, then I want you out of here. Whether or not she leaves with you… that’s up to her.”

William considered the proposal, then nodded curtly.

“Very well. Until then.”

***

Dinner that evening was the most awkward affair you could have envisaged.

You were grateful that the servant, more observant than perhaps Elliott gave him credit for, had moved your chair to be seated next to your husband, making for you the awkward decision of whether to sit with Elliott as you always had, or to move next to William.

You did your best to fill the awkward silence, asking William about Melbourne, his work, the house he’d taken so much time and care to find for the two of you.

“And how do you find Australia herself?” Elliott asked, speaking for the first time since you’d all sat down. “She’s a harsh mistress, not every man can handle her.”

“Far too hot, but nothing I can’t handle.”

“You’ve certainly tanned, darling,” you said, raising a hand to gently touch William’s cheek. “I always thought you don’t get nearly enough sunlight cooped up in court all day. You look healthier now.”

William looked at you and swelled with pride at the compliment, then raised an eyebrow at you.

“And you, my dear, appear to have burnt. Did you overcook yourself?”

You withdrew your hand and blushed, although there wasn’t much skin to turn red that wasn’t already.

“I… sat out on the ridge too long. I was - um - waiting for you. Elliott had to bring me back before I roasted completely.”

William glanced over at Elliott. “I’m surprised you let her burn as much as she has, Elliott. Or do you like your girls crispy?”

Elliott’s jaw twitched. Before he could speak, there was a knock on the door, and one of his men let himself in to ask him about the reward for Quigley.

“Do you suppose he’ll be here shortly?” William asked with mild interest when the man left.

“Yes, I think so. I’ve got what’s left of my men guarding the whole station. That does beg the question, however, of what I’m going to do with the two of you.” Elliott pointed at you with his fork. “That man’s not getting remotely near you, that’s for sure. You’re staying inside.” He chewed thoughtfully, then said, “I suppose we don’t want you dying either, William.”

“I don’t intend on putting myself on the front line to protect your station, Elliott,” William scoffed. He placed a hand over yours. “I’ll look after [Y/n].”

Elliott didn’t seem to approve of that, but he said nothing about it.

“And what about you, Elliott?” you asked, your voice laced with worry. “I don’t want you dying either.”

Elliott smirked with self-assuredness you prayed wasn’t misplaced.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll kill Quigley before he has a chance to blink.”

After dinner, William retired for an early night, not having taken the nap he’d meant to take earlier on account of spending an hour fucking you instead. Although you weren’t tired, you obligingly went to bed with him, and when he fell asleep two orgasms later, you slipped out of his tight grip and got back into your dress.

You followed the sounds of gunshots to find Elliott around the back of the house, shooting at apparently nothing.

“What are you doing?”

Elliott turned around, and smiled when he saw you were alone.

“Just emptying my revolver. I want it freshly loaded when our visitor shows up. And I couldn’t stand to listen to William fucking you again, so I thought I’d pretend these fence posts are his dick.”

“Elliott, you shouldn’t say that,” you said in hushed tones, glancing around as if your sleeping husband could hear you from inside the house.

Elliott chuckled and wrapped his spare arm around your waist to pull you in close. You hesitated, but your body reacted to his so naturally, you found yourself melting into his embrace. He smiled and kissed the top of your head.

“Everything’s going to be alright, [Y/n]. I promise you.”

You looked up at him, desperate to say the words you never could, your heart aching from being torn in two.

“You said you’re sleeping in the lodge tonight?”

Elliott nodded questioningly.

“Maybe we could… go there now? Together, I mean…”

A devilish grin broke out across his face, and you ducked your head in embarrassment at your own forwardness.

“Well, well, well… sweet Lady Turpin, sneaking out of bed to proposition another man while her husband sleeps. You have grown bold, haven’t you?”

“I… we don’t have to… I don’t mean — I just want to be alone with you for a bit. Is there something wrong with seeking a bit of companionship?”

Elliott leaned down to kiss you, but then a shot rang out in the distance, and you were both jolted out of the moment, both of you turning towards the direction the shot came from.

“Maybe Scotty’s got Quigley,” suggested one man as he came jogging around the corner.

Elliott rolled his eyes, then took your hand and wordlessly pulled you away towards the lodge.

“They’ll warn me when he’s here,” he said, his voice low with the darkness that he saved for his men but dissipated when he looked at you. “Until then… you’re right. A bit of companionship is just what we both need.”

The lodge was a cabin near the back of the station, nothing as comfortable as Elliott’s house, but it was much better than the men’s quarters, and when the door closed behind you, you could almost forget you were anywhere at all. The lodge was the world as far as you cared, and nothing mattered to you in that moment but Elliott and his wandering hands as he pushed you up against the wall and kissed you as if he could only breathe air from your lungs.

You clung to him desperately, any sense of propriety or reservation forgotten the moment you closed the door.

Elliott grabbed hungrily at your bodice, pulling it down to release your breasts, and you whined into the kiss when he began pawing at you with desperation, as if it was his last chance to touch you and he might be interrupted at any moment.

You finally gasped for air when Elliott pulled away, your already sore skin stinging from the friction of his facial hair, but you didn’t care.

Elliott dropped to his knees in front of you and pulled your dress down past your hips. He let out a hungry growl when he saw your cunt, and you gasped when he buried his face between your legs, tongue desperately seeking the sweetest spots that he knew only took well.

The fact that his cousin had finished inside you only a short while ago did nothing to deter Elliott as he passionately made out with your cunt, and you felt your stress melting away with each lick, each contented hum from Elliott’s lips that betrayed the pleasure he found in worshipping you.

When his tongue began caressing your sweet spot with gentle yet rapid caresses, your orgasm came over you like an explosion. Elliott held your thighs firmly in his large hands, steadying you as your legs buckled beneath you, and he took your weight with no protest as you shuddered through your high, only pulling back when he was satisfied you were completely sated.

You were so lightheaded that at first you didn’t realise Elliott was making no move to take his own clothes off, and in fact it wasn’t until he was guiding your arms through your sleeves that you realised he was redressing you.

“Aren’t you going to fuck me?” you asked, feeling a little dejected that he apparently had no interest in you.

“I don’t need to fuck you to show you how I feel,” Elliott said softly. He took your hand and led you over to the nearby couch, and when you settled into his arms, you felt like you could fall asleep there and then.

“You’re right,” he murmured in your ear. “I just want to be alone with you for a bit.”

“Then why did you use your tongue if not to ready me for you?”

Elliott chuckled, his warm breath tickling your ear.

“You’ve been fucked enough today, [Y/n]. I wanted to make you feel good. Did it feel good?”

“Yes,” you admitted.

“Good. That’s all I care about anymore.”

You must have dozed off for a bit, because before you knew it, night had fallen and you were awoken when Elliott lifted you gently to move away from you. You blinked, bleary-eyed, wondering why Elliott was leaving. He opened the door and you heard the noise of a galloping horse, prompting you to shake yourself awake and follow Elliott outside.

The horse came to a stop in the middle of the station and you caught up with Elliott just as he met up with the half a dozen men that had gathered around the riderless horse.

A piece of paper was pinned to the horse’s saddle. One man tore it off and opened it to read, “Anyone can leave safely before dawn except Marston. The girl will not be harmed. Yours cordially, Matthew Quigley.”

Elliott snatched the paper from the man’s hand and screwed it up in anger. “He must think I’m stupid! This just means he’s gonna spring something on us in the night. Alright - nobody sleeps.”

He grabbed his hat from Cavanagh’s head. “Give me that!” he snarled, taking the jacket too, before taking you by the arm and leading you back towards the house.

“Come on, we’ve got to get you safe.”

“But the note said —”

“I know what the note says. Don’t believe a word of it. A monster like him, he’ll shoot anyone in sight, innocent or no. Go back to bed with your useless lump of a husband, meanwhile I’ll keep the monster at bay.”

“You expect me to sleep now?” you asked as you crossed the threshold, and Elliott stopped in his tracks, clearly not intending to follow you in.

“Sleep, read, fuck, whatever you want. Just stay safe. Quigley wants me, which means for once you’re not safe by my side. The only other man I trust to protect you, God help me, is William. Promise me you’ll stay inside.”

“I promise, El. Just - be careful, okay? Don’t do anything stupid.”

He smiled smugly. “Don’t worry, darling. I’ll outfox this snake if it’s the last thing I do.”

#alan rickman #elliott marston x reader #judge turpin x reader #elliott marston #judge turpin #quigley down under #sweeney todd #the eternal summer

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celestie0 · 1 month

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THINKING ABT BRIDGETON AU GOJO BCS IM REWATCHING QUEEN CHARLOTTE A BRIDGETON STORY 😭��

Okay so Imagine Gojo is a duke in this AU and after the ball from my last Bridgestone gojo brain rot you guys starting spending more time together and getting to know each other and everyone who sees u guys together can literally feel the tension even his own mother feels it it’s like a Daphne and Simon kind of situation yk also Gojo stops visiting brothels after getting to know you and then one day during one of you’re guys hangouts he says he can’t see you anymore and that you deserve someone better than him who will be able to love you and like readers you’re like ?? Cuz like it don’t make no sense Like we were talking shit abt the ppl in ball and laughing together tf you mean 😭 and imagine you let him be and their is another ball this evening and a prince is their so you get all dressed up ans make sure you’re the prettiest girl in the room to make him jealous and you’re walking down the stairs and you catch the prince’s and Gojo attention and everybody is looking at you n the prince asks you to dance and Gojo gets jealous and storms outside even his mother is shocked so reader is dancing with the prince and she excuses herself to freshen up even tho she plans to see gojo and she goes outside and Gojo sees her and asks what she’s doing here and then she says she was looking for him and confronts him about him not wanting to marry her even tho she thought he was interested and then he says he is interested but she deserves someone who actually knows how to love her and that he isn’t the right man for her and that she deserved better and she says you are better and then Gojo steps closer and they finally kiss BUT they get caught by one of the girls that want to marry Gojo and she comes out from her hiding spot or sum shit and she threatens to expose them to the Ton if gojo doesn’t marry her so gojo decides to announce ur guys engagement at the ball and her plan backfires on her lady whistle down has a field trip with this one fr 😭😭 so many thoughts abt gojo rn it’s unreal 😔😫

bae isn't this just the entire plot of s1 brigerton??😂😂😂 ooo i like the twist of the girl that wants to marry him blackmailing him w the kiss eep i think itd be interesting if the plan didn't backfire right away n they would go through w that (gojo engaged to the other girl) just to save reader's reputation in the ton or sumn but then gojo just cant handle being engaged to a woman that isn't reader n is like 😫😫 BAE I DO NOT WISH TO BE PARTED FROM YOU NO MORE 😫 IT IS AGONIZING. TIL DEATH DO US APART WE SHALL BE ENAMORED AND INTERTWINED BY OUR SOULS FOR ETERNITY n they ride off into the sunset

#get shonda rhimes on this NOWWWW #i love it bb pls write it #it'd be so fnny to see gojo speaking in period talk bahaha #also the prince scene is so classic omg i love that scene where daphne is walking down the stairs n she looks hot as hell n then she drops #drops her fan #n the prince bends down to her feet to pick it up for her #the woman that she is #would love to see gojo jealous asf over that #who would be the prince tho hehehe #asks #[queued ask]

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alabasterpickles · 8 months

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😭 omg you’re Hades x Persephone artwork is so amazing! I can’t get enough of the comic strips! If you turned this into a comic series I’d totally read it!

I did have a question if you didn’t mind. What would you say your version would be of Hades ‘kidnapping’ Persephone like in the original story?

Can’t wait to see more of your work! Take care!

Strap in cause this is going to be a long(ish) explanation! 😂

Disney obviously took many liberties with the Hercules film, especially with Hades, so I’m kinda putting a twist on the abduction story —

Disney’s Hades is clever and a bit of a snake oil peddler so when it comes to the whole “throwing her over his shoulder and disappearing into the night” narrative, I just don’t see him doing that?

He’s never that direct. He’s got a back-door solution to all his problems.

Here’s how I think he’d do it —

I have the story mapped out like this: Persephone makes her annual appearance on spring and Hades is topside for some reason (possibly plotting the downfall of his brothers, semantics I’m still developing!) when he notices her for the first time.

Based on the show’s logic, I’m gonna assume he doesn’t volunteer to spend a lot of time on the surface during spring, considering how much he despises it.

Anyway, Hermes is making his rounds and notices Hades getting ready to make a move so he intervenes initially. But then, lightbulb! He figures it’s probably best that Hades find himself a wife so he’s too distracted to cause chaos for the rest of the pantheon. From here, he and several other gods start to engineer circumstances to bring Hades and Persephone together.

I’m going for a very Star-crossed lovers vibe on this one, kind of Romeo and Juliet, since historically speaking Demeter and Hades aren’t on good terms. Demeter has already arranged for her daughter to marry another Olympian (in this case, Ares. I’m using him because he’s pig-headed and bullish enough in character to rival Hades as a villain!), this is naturally a bone of contention between the two of them because Persephone can’t stand the guys.

I like the idea of Hades and Persephone meeting up secretly, going on “pseudo-dates” to get away from their Godly duties and the pressures of being them. They begin to discover they have a lot more in common than they expected. Eventually they fall in love and Persephone has to make a decision — break off the engagement with Ares or follow through on the marriage and be miserable.

Of course this is also an issue for Hades so as the conflict comes to a head, he offers Demeter an ultimatum, either she allows her daughter to stay with him or he unleashes the Underworld’s entire soul content on the surface to wreak havoc on the mortal and godly realms respectively (he’s bluffing).

Zeus and Hera both know this but want to see him happy and out of their hair. They decide to play along.

Zeus uses his divine influence to make a deal with his brother in Demeter’s stead, so Hades draws up a contract (as he is wont to do) and the pair of them agree that Persephone is to spend six months in the underworld and six months on the surface working with her mother. Fair enough, right?

Since the whole scheme wasn’t strictly consensual, Persephone is hurt and angry that Hades would be so cavalier with signing away her freedom. Hades tries to explain to her that he was only trying to protect her from marrying someone she didn’t love and by extension not lose her to Ares for eternity in the process.

Although it was “technically” against her will, it definitely wasn’t forced, because I truly believe Disney’s Hades would want her to be happy with him in the Underworld like any other version would. 😂

There’s a lot of build up in my mind before they get to that point, by the time any of this takes place they’re already in a well established relationship, but that’s the gist of it.

She eventually forgives him and they live happily ever after! ❤️

#there’s more nuance to it than all this but #I’m trying to keep it as concise as possible without leaving any important details out #👀 💦#asks #Hades & Persephone #Disney’s Hercules #Au’s #headcanons #OCS #animechick247 #I hope that answers your question!

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talzane · 2 years

Text

I've become very invested in exploring Vampire Vlad's dichotomy as a character because, "generic, evil billionaire," is boring.

Vampires are parasitic by nature, destructive, and by most definitions, evil, but they're also so incredibly lonely. They're powerful: super strength, speed, control of creatures of the night, some control over clouds, shape-shifting, magic, etc., but because they're compelled to drink the blood of the living, they're doomed to being alone. Vlad wants Maddie, he wants to make her like him because he loves her in his twisted way and he wants to spend eternal night with her, but at the same time, he knows she'd hate to live like that so it can't be Vlad that turns her into a vampire--cue the Maternal Instincts, vampiric monsters.

Then there's Danny, the only Halfa in the universe, incredibly powerful as well, a self-sacrificing, unappreciated, half dead, teen hero, who Vlad sees as something of a kindred spirit; at the very least, somebody he could have as family, somebody his cravings don't apply to, somebody he can't *hurt*. Worst of all, somebody whose own family is hurting him, whose family is reckless, dangerous, bigoted, morally bankrupt, and possibly insane, but Vlad could take him away if only the boy would let him. Vlad could keep him safe, Vlad and Daniel could be, at the very least, content, safe, and well-fed.

But Jack Fenton must be destroyed; he was an honest friend, but he abandoned Vlad to whisk Maddie off into the sunset, leaving Vlad desperate and lonely enough to take the offer of more time...what a price he paid. Jack Fenton ruined Vlad's life and gained everything Vlad wanted; Jack Fenton claimed the credit for the Ghost Portal; Jack Fenton squashed Maddie into the background at every opportunity to claim credit for himself; Jack Fenton's bumbling condemned Vlad to a gruesome, agonizing death, and Jack Fenton half killed his own son, a child Vlad would have cherished.

Maddie wouldn't have done that to Danny, Maddie--left to her own devices--would have made an excellent mother, Vladdie and Maddie, together forever with Daniel, their son. A deathless family, no suffering, no loss, no heartbreak.

The motivations potentially being genuinely decent intentions/desires is something that I love about Vlad's potential because, "the road to hell is paved with good intentions," applies so strongly to him. The entire Bitter Reunion episode wouldn't change too much because Vlad would still be bitter, he'd still want to ruin Jack's reputation--perhaps take him down to where Vlad thinks Jack would be without Maddie--in order to later highlight Maddie's genius as a ploy to win her affections, but learning that Jack has not only the kind of son that Vlad would--quite literally--kill for but the woman Vlad could see himself spending eternity with would amp up his plots.

Then there's Maternal Instincts, it would make so much sense for Vlad to send vampiric beasts after Maddie and Danny in order to turn Maddie, but she's just too good to fall to them and the plot completely turns Danny against him.

My favorite thing about the character would be that since his intentions are good, he could still call CPS on the Fenton Household as an effort to at least spare Danny the negligence of his parents or the dangers of the ghost hunting equipment.

"Daniel, stop removing my cameras from that house."

"You put cameras in my bedroom, Fruit Loop!"

"I admit, I was concerned due to your injuries and wanted to make sure you're alright, but I will leave the cameras outside the bedrooms--"

"*And* the bathrooms!"

"Oh alright! The bathrooms too."

"How 'bout you just stop putting cameras in my house!?"

"Your parents--especially your bumbling father--are a danger to themselves and to you, Daniel, somebody has to watch them!"

"They don't need watching! They're great parents!"

"When was the last time they *cooked* you a healthy meal? When did you feel safe enough to tell them about being a ghost? When was the last time they paid the bills or went grocery shopping? Daniel, when was the last time you didn't have to rekill food kept in your kitchen?"

"That's normal for us, *Vlad*!"

"It's not healthy!"

"You're a vampire!"

"You're a child! Your sister is a child! Neither of you should be paying bills, shopping for groceries, or dodging *cannon fire* in your own home!"

"They're bazookas! You're supposed to be smart enough to know that!"

"That's child endangerment, and you shouldn't *have* to know *that*!"

But in the end, for all his cameras, Vlad can't submit the footage to a court of law because 1) illegal surveillance, 2) Danny's ID as Phantom is on those tapes and revealing him--even to gain custody--would be incredibly dangerous, so all Vlad can do is pray that the CPS people put an end to Danny living with his parents.

I just really like the idea that Vlad still kills people to drain their blood, but he's also not a completely horrible person, he's just trying to do the right thing the wrong way in regards to Danny and he's doing the wrong thing the worst way for questionable reasons with Maddie.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #dp au #vlad masters

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treeganart · 1 year

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Putting this out into the universe as it’s been scratching and clawing at the insides of my head begging to be released. I also want other peoples thoughts. But It’s kinda a MAJOR SPOILER for my sso story so if your one of the like… 2 or 3 people who follow my story on Instagram and don’t want main plot spoilers? Don’t read on! I post from my phone so idk how to put spoiler ‘continue reading stuff’ 😅

But yeah! Aight SO! Mr Sands. Our legend. In my story? He’s actually THE SandMan (or well ONE of the keepers of dreams and nightmares).

(My story is based off mainly European folklore with some other folklore from around the world sprinkled in too! So yeah. Context I guess for the creative choices I’m making! Although idk if people thought of this before?)

But anyway, he BECOMES the Boogeyman. How you ask? (Or didn’t ask but I’m telling you anyway) Well it’s actually a beautiful tale of love.

The sandman is a being of endless time and has been around for a WHILE. But he is kinda a loner and shunned by his fellow entities for being more enamoured with nightmares than dreams. Waaaaay back in time, he met a goddess of smoke and shadows, named Cethin. (Cethin is - SPOILERS - the lost twin sister to Aideen and a whole other huge plot point lol).

But ANYWAY - back to our MANS.

Sands fell so hard for Cethin, like homeboy was SIMPING. He had always struggled with connecting with people, humans and gods alike, as he was seen as “dark” and treated like an outcast. But he was so enamoured by the beautiful goddess of darkness and ended up shooting his shot, courting her for years. They had time after all. She played coy but secretly was falling for him too. They bonded over mutual experiences and ideals. They shared so much: kisses, quiet moments, burdens of mistakes, as well as an understanding of eternity.

Mr Sands grew so attached, he often wanted nothing more but to shirk his responsibilities and the weight of time, just to crack open Cethin’ very being; to live within the safety and warmth of her chest, curled around her heart forever.

And being the powerful bad bitch entity she was, who also loved Mr Sands like no other before him, Cethin granted him that wish. A gift to bind them together for always. She was a goddess of shadows, so granted her lover the ability to live WITHIN shadows as a way of keeping them close.

But it kinda ended up giving him more of a negative representation, especially in the eyes of humans who deemed him - you guessed it - The Boogeyman!

Anyway yeah! There we go. A little cheeky backstory to my version of Mr Sands. A lot happens after this to make him the man we see in current day and age. Cethin vanishes (ooo more spoilers there). He goes kinda batshit insane at this loss and makes lots of… questionable choices. He has to spend hundreds of years without her, and chooses to live amongst mortals for a while looking to find her as he believes she is somewhere on the mortal plane. He even marries different humans through the years, trying to rekindle some connection or just blend in, but never really finds love again as his heart belongs to only one.

Annnnd yeah. That’s his motivation. He needs power and needs to find his babygirl but has spent SO many years looking and grieving it’s kinda twisted his mind.

If you have managed to read all this: you have my everlasting love and if you ever need anything- hmu 🤙 I love and cherish you. Thoughts and feelings on this crazy random, very specific to my sso AU, headcanon?

#sso #ssoblr #starstable #starstable headcanon #sso mr sands #starstable Mr sands #Tree’s rambles #The Wayward Wanderers #statstableonline

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domaslut · 2 years

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Sleepless night in the meadow (I).

HOGWARTS MYSTERY.

Prompt: In which Chester and Clarice are dating, but her father does anything in his power to part them. Craving to meet his girlfriend, he asks Felix to pick her up for him for a date in the middle of the night.

Starring: Chester Davies, Felix Rosier and Clarice Blackthrone (my Mc, but you can replace her with yours, if you please).

Warning: fluff, a lil bit of angst, mention to virginity and sex.

PART 1.

____________________________________

He was tired of seeing her sporadically, reading those heartbreaking letters she sent him was making him feel powerless. Her family was slowly consuming her and all he could do was watching her crumble to the ground, shattered in pieces too small for being put back together. She was not evil, yet they were trying to awaken her dark side, the one that lays within people’s heart. He had to set her free, at least for a day or two. He wanted to remind her of the purity of her heart, before it was too late.

Maybe he did not stand a chance against her father and his comrades in a duel, yet it did not mean he was going to sit idly and watch them turning the love of his life into a murderous assassin. She did not deserve it. He had spent days mulling over what to do. Her family knew they were friends. Her father did not quite appreciate him. Whenever he knocked on his door, asking for his daughter, he stared down at him as if he was some kind of a despicable beggar. However, he had given him a chance for redemption. His venomous words still rang in his head after months. His deplorable speech in the Blackthrone living room, before the fireplace, had made his stomach twist and turn to the point he had thrown up on his way home.

‘You descend from a pureblood family, Davies, am I right? I know your parents. They are rather broad-minded, aren’t they? It’s a shame they have turned down our offer to join us… What about you, Chester? You are young, you are a brilliant man, a Ravenclaw. Why don’t you join us? Felix Rosier is your friend, isn’t he? And my daughter is even more than that to you. I can see it in the way you look at her. You are in love with her. Think about it, Chester. If you joined us, you could even be her husband in a few years. Otherwise, your best friend, the young Rosier, will be bragging at you about how delightful it is to spend the eternity by her side’.

Chester exhaled deeply, his eyes flicked up to meet the intense gaze of his best friend Felix. If he was the only person in the world he could confide in to meet his beloved girlfriend, then he would have gladly taken adventage of his position in the wicked group of dark wizards.

”Chester, are you drunk or what? You want me to pick up Clarice and escort her in the woods? What’s wrong with you?” Felix asked, leaning his torso over the table in concern.

”I’m perfectly fine, Felix. Her father does not particularly bear the sight of me around his house and I am more than sure that he is plotting to murder me too, after I have declined his kind offer to join you” Chester replied, taking a sip of his butterbeer.

Felix scowled and glared at his friend “The young ones did not have a choice, Chester. I didn’t get to choose which side I wanted to belong to and Clarice couldn’t do it too. It’s not like we’re happy to be a part of that disgusting crew of freaks – he hissed, earning a sigh from the other guy – What on the Earth makes you think he will let me take her out?” Felix inquired, knitting his eyebrows together in confusion. Was it just concern, though?

The Ravenclaw prefect nodded his head apologetically “Hey, calm down, I know that you did not have a choice. You are my friend, Felix, and… And you know what’s going on between Clarice and me. – he paused, settling his pot on the wooden table – I know for sure that her father likes you” he added shortly.

Felix quirked a long dark eyebrow up “Why? Because I’m a Death Eater?”.

”No, Felix, don’t push it”.

The Slytherin prefect scoffed and slammed his palm over the table in indignation “No secrets, Chester. Do you remember the oath we took years ago?” he pressed his friend. He was frustrated.

Maybe it was true that love was greatest destroyer of all. The Dark Lord was raising again and here they were, plotting a bloody elopement to mend their broken hearts. Who was going to mend his one, though? Moreover, what did Chester know that he did not? Why did he have to take the girl he loved to a night date with his best friend?

Chester pinched the bridge of his nose, a tired groan escaped his lips before he locked eyes with his best friend again. How did they come to this?

“Felix, you are not just a Death Eater. I could be one too, if I turned my back on everything I believe in. You are a pureblood and so am I…Yet, and that’s the difference between you and me, you are last scion of an important and noble family. He wants her to marry you, not me” Chester said, hating each and every word rolling out of his tongue. The truth was not bittersweet. It was sour and metallic, just like taste of blood. Chester Davies was not Felix Rosier and nothing could have ever changed that. Not even Clarice’s love for him.

‘Am I just wasting her time, if in the end she’s destined to be his wife? In years, will I even be able to say that, for a short but happy period of my life, she was mine, ascertained that the woman I love was not born to love me?’ Chester thought, eyes dawncast as reality dawned harshly on him.

Silence swallowed them for a few minutes, before Felix decided to speak again “Who told you that?” he uttered, running one hand over his silky hair to draw back some strands tickling his forehead.

It did not sound unrealistic to him. Almost every marriage among purebloods was arranged. Only a few exceptions were based purely on the mutual, rare feeling of love. His family had mentioned that before and his father believed that Clarice would have been the best choice to make. He had always agreed on that. The thought of spending his life with someone he cared about was a privilege reserved to a only a few lucky people. Still, even if he loved her, she was Chester’s girlfriend and he would have never stabbed his back like that.

Chester sighed and clicked his tongue “He did. I don’t want to talk about the details of our conversation, though. At least, not now. – he said, tapping his fingers onto the table nervously – I just… Can I still count on you? I know you care about her, Felix. They are tormenting her, her light is slowly fading away. Please, do it for her” Chester pleaded his friend, the gleam of hope sparkling into his dark eyes making Felix’s stomach clench. He knew he was right. Maybe, Clarice was omitting a lot of things not to break Chester’s heart. He always sat beside her during the meetings. The things they heard, the tests they were constantly put under were truly breaking her. He knew what he had to do.

Felix Rosier stood up, straightening his jacket and nodding his head at him “Meet us tonight at the sunflowers meadow” he announced, before walking out of the pub. Chester did not reply. He just felt his lips curling up into a tiny smile. Felix Rosier, his best friend, was not truly gone. He was still the cocky bastard who pretended not to have feelings, but did anything he could to protect them.

In the meanwhile, Clarice Blackthrone was sitting on the leather couch of her living room, composed, a novel laying on her lap as she brushed her fingertips on the title of the muggle book she had been reading for the past two hours. Her family hated muggles, yet they had always let her buying herself their inventions and random stuff, such as the CDs or the novels, and they even allowed her to visit their cities and museums. They appreciated art and they had invested a lot into her education. They hated being ingorant and, above all, they firmly believed that knowing your enemy is the key to brew up a glorious plan for their downfall. They had made her promise not to let her interest for the muggles get too far and not to interact with them more than it was necessary. She had learnt her lesson a long time ago. She still remembered vividly how her father had killed a muggle before her eyes just because he had complimented her mother. Her parents had made her watch the whole scene. They were nothing but monsters.

The authoritarian voice of her father echoing through the walls of the room made her flinch and tighten her grip on the book “Aren’t you supposed to train, Clarice? Your mother has been waiting for you in the training grounds for hours, but you haven’t showed up” he said, a hint of disdain in his voice as he pointed out how disrespectful towards her own flesh and blood she had been.

“I won’t spend my summer break learning how to murder people, father” she sternly replied, her blue eyes staring into the potrait of her grandfather hanged on the wall on the opposite side of the living room.

She had spent enough time of her life living with her father, fearing his violent outbursts, that she knew exactly what he was going to do. He did not dignify her with an answer, instead he drawed his wand and attacked her. She apparated a few feet away from where she was standing and successfully protected herself with a effective “Protego!”.

Her father laughed, cocking his head to the side as he watched her eyes burn in anger. Her wand was still pointing at him and her facial expression displayed nothing but fury. She was livid as she tried to cast another spell “Locomotor Mortis!” she said, hoping to make him lose his balance. Yet, how could he trick the one who had taught her how to fight?

”Fumos” he breathed out and before she could even realise it, smoke enveloped him. The spell smashed a vase behind her father, her aim diverted.

She took a step back, her eyes searching his blue ones as she heard him laugh again “Oh, my dear, look at you! You are my daughter, you are just like me. We share the same murderous look in the eye when we engage a fight!” he pinpointed and she grimaced at his words. No matter how hard she tried not to be like them, Clarice Blackthrone was her father’s daughter. She was destined to be a killer.

”You have ruined my life…” she breathed out, rushing out of the room.

She heard him yell after her, shooting a few spell at her back. She dudged them hastily, sending some defensive spells at him. As he chased her down the dark corridors of their house, a constellation of tears sparkled on her lashes. Black lines of mascara drew irregular patterns down her cheeks. Was he going to kill her this time?

A knock on the front door made them freeze solid. Did the Aurors finally find them? Were they rescuing her? She gulped down nervously, sweat beading her forehead as her father gestured for her to get behind him. It was no time for debating, she obliged his request wiping away some tears off of her face.

”May the Dark Lord raise again, Mister Blackthrone” a firm voice announced from behind the polished wooden door, making her heart skip a beat. Felix, her salvation, was here.

Tobias Blackthrone unlocked the door, his wand lowering as he grabbed the silver knob and opened the door. The young Rosier stood on the porch, a black suit and a bright green cape setting off his slender frame. Hair perfectly groomed, silken, he bowed his head at him as a sign of respect. The girl felt her heart burn as she registered his actions. A well-educated, deadly, charming pureblood. They were the same: living up to the expectations of their parents. However, while Felix obliged their requestd without making a fuss, she was keened to rebel against her parents.

Tobias nodded his head at him, stepping aside to let him in “Felix Rosier, what a pleasant surprise. – he said, watching as the French Wizard slowly crossed the threshold – Any news from your parents? Would you like a glass of wine?” he offered, a small smile curling his lips.

Felix bowed his head again “They are out of town, Mr. Blackthrone. I am here to ask you the permission to take your daughter out tonight” Felix said, eyes trailed on the polished parquet underneath his feet. He had not met Clarice’s eyes yet, he had not seen her puffed, reddened eyes and the black lines of mascara on her cheeks. Or the fright in her eyes. The girl sighed and took her chance to wipe away the tears off of her face. It was her chance to leave her daddy issues behind her for a few hours then.

Clarice cleared her throat and took a step towards her friend, whose gaze flicked up to meet her blue hues “It’d be a pleasure, Felix. Where would you like to go? I might have to change into a better attire, if you pick a fancy restaurant for dinner” she noted, a small smile curled her lips. She was tired.

There she was: a doll face, acting on her best behavior to accomplish her goal to please her father’s expectations. Yet, Felix knew her like the back of his hand. He sensed the tension in the air. His attention, though, was on her sclera: it was no white, on the contrary it was reddened. Anger enveloped his heart, but he simply decided to disguise it with a warm smile.

’What has this freak done to her this time?’ he thought, glancing at Clarice’s father.

“Actually, I hoped to invite you over. A simple dinner, a walk through the gardens… Nothing inappropiate, of course. Plus, you are bewitching just the way you are” he whispered suavely, making Clarice feel extremely indisposed. He had always had that ascendant on her. Was he just pretending to be intrigued by her? Actually, Felix was trying to pretend, he wished he was just pretebding, but those words rolled out on his tongue effortlessly. He loved her, but she was with Chester, wasn’t he?

Tobias grinned and nodded his head “Don’t disturb taking her home, Felix. – he suggested, a gleam of malice in his eyes – Your parents aren’t around, you could take advantage of the time you spend alone at home with her. You have my consent for spending the night out with her. In addition, I believe my lovely daughter will enjoy taking a break from her duties” he raved, gesturing for Clarice to go upstairs and gather her stuff.

She blushed, ashamed by the way her father way practically selling her to Felix. Tobias, the man who stack up to his ideals of chastity before the wedding, to being respectful of partners, was now pushing her into Felix’s bed. The young Rosier felt his hands sweating and his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down spasmodically. He felt disgusted and terribly scared of what would have happened, if that man had found out where they were heading to and who was going to lay with his daughter on the soft grass.

“Father, please…” she protested, before running upstairs to gather her stuff. The look in her eyes, the way she was hurting herself by pretending to be okay smashed Felix’s heart into a million pieces.

They had left the Blackthrone maison almost an hour ago. Not a single word had left their lips, but Clarice knew one thing for sure: they were not going to spend the night in the Rosier maison. She was just glad he had somehow found a way to get her out of that cage. As long as her parents were not around, she would have walked a thousand miles.

To break the silence was surprisingly Felix “Are you hurt?” he asked, gaze transfixed on the horizon.

”What?” she said, trying to keep his pace. The high, wild grass was stinging her bare legs, puncturing the tender flesh of her exposed calves earning a few groans of frustration from her.

”You’ve heard me. Did he hurt you?” Felix quipped, switching his attention to her again.

Clarice chuckled, elbowing him jokingly on his side “Are you concerned about me, Rosier? I am flattered once again… You truly are a gentleman, after all. I’m fine, anyway, thanks for asking” she said, playing with the hem of skirt.

Felix rolled his eyes and stopped on his tracks, frowning at her barbed response “Is it so strange I care about you? We’ve grown up together, Clarice. I know what you’re going through… – he trailed off, assesting her reaction – And, for the record, I am risking my neck for you and your happiness. You should show me some gratitude” he added, cocking his head to the side.

The brunette knitted her eyebrows together, tossing her bag onto the ground. She could not care less about her stuff getting dirty, all she was focusing on was him and his enigmatic answer. Was Felix trying to seduce her for real? But he was not risking his neck when her father rooted for him.

”Merlin’s beard, of course, Felix! I care about you too and you fucking know it! Yet, what the hell are you talking about? And what was that little entr’act back at home? Are you hitting on me? You were so charming, kind and… And loving! And where in the actual fuck are we going, by the way?” she snapped, exhaling in distress. Felix swallowed his pride, a stern look on his face “What’s about it?” he deadpanned.

”It felt real!” she declared, blushing.

”What if it was?”.

She was left agape, her heart skipping a beat at his rhetoric question. Was Felix in love with her? Was he really trying to seduce her?

“I don’t… I don’t understand, Felix. Why? You can’t love me” she stammered, breath uneven as flahes of her kisses with Chester played on repeat before her eyes.

Felix felt as if she, the woman he loved, had just casted a Crucio on him. His heart bled out, but he was a Rosier: he would have bled in silence, loving that cruel lady from afar. He shrugged a dry laughter escaped his throat “Calm down, sweetheart. I am taking you to Chester. I could never love my best friend’s girlfriend”.

What a beautiful lie.

#felix rosier #chester davies #felix rosier x reader #harry potter hogwarts mystery #hogwarts mystery #hogwarts mc #slytherin #death eaters #harry potter #chester davies x reader #penny haywood #bill weasley

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sunphroggy · 3 years

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alright I have an au idea that im about to badly explain but it's a little strange so stick with me.

I call it: 'The Parent Trap but Opposite' au

So picture this: Tommy is Phil's only child, right. His mother died in childbirth so for his entire eight years of life its just been him and Phil. And that's fine, that's great, he loves it. Tommy doesn't want another addition to the family, it would only screw everything up.

That being said, Phil is lonely. Don't get him wrong, he loves his son and loves spending time with him, but he misses the feeling of being in love. He misses his wife.

Enter, Kristen.

They meet on a blind date, set up by a friend from Phil's work, and hit it off instantly. Months pass and Phil wants to propose.

One problem though. He hasnt told Tommy about it. He hasn't even introduced Kristen to him.

So what better way to merge both families that a holiday?

(I should probably say here that Kristen also has children. Take a wild guess who they are.)

Tommy is all for a holiday. Two weeks at a fancy ass hotel with room service, an arcade and a pool? Sign him up!

That is until, he finds out that Kristen and her boys will be joining them.

Enter, Wilbur and Techno.

(They're about fourteen. Their parents are divorced and, unlike Tommy, they knew Kristen was seeing Phil. They alse know that Phil is gonna propose - well, it's just a hunch)

Phil, god bless him, tries his hardest to get Tommy to warm up to Kristen, Wilbur and Techno. He plans all these activities and takes them all shopping, to the beach, to waterparks ect. But Tommy just won't take to them; he doesn't mind Kristen but Wilbur and Techno are weird, they keep making these cryptic comments about how they're going to be seeing eachother a lot in the future and Tommy just does not understand.

That is, until they decide to let Tommy in on the obvious.

Tommy, as expected, is in denial. Because there's no way his dad would do something like that without telling him first. Besides, Phil doesn't need to get married, they're perfectly happy just the two of them.

There's just no way.

Right?

Wrong.

Because Tommy is a curious little shit and he ransacks his and Phil's hotel room in search for the ring. He doesn't find it, of course, because Phil is used to Tommy's little raccoon tactics and hid it properly. But when he comes back from dinner with Kristen to a destroyed room and a confused Tommy, he decides to tell him the truth.

Needless to say Tommy has a fit. One moment, he's happy; just him and dad, living life. And then this lady and her shitty sons come along and fucks that up

(I imagine the conversation being something like:

Phil: Yeah im gonna propose Kristen

Tommy, inhaling deeply: *screams*

And then it would proceed to reinact that once scene from Steven universe with ruby and sapphire like-

phil: he'll eventually tire himself out :'D

Tommy, making even more of a mess than he already has: that's what you think! I am an eternal flame baby!! >:(

Yeah.)

Tommy, ever the drama queen, storms to Wilbur and Techno - who are like "we told you so :/" - and the three of them (because Techno and Wilbur also do not want this little racoon gremlin hybrid in their home either) team up and plan to ruin the proposal. The only problem, they don't know when Phil is gonna actually propose.

And this...this is where the hijinks and shenanigans ensue.

They just like, constantly ruin Phil and Kristen's date nights with their dumb shit.

(I'm thinking shit like the three of them stacked on each others shoulders in a trench coat pretending to be a waiter at the hotel restaurant Phil and Kristen are eating at and constantly spilling drinks and food of them whenever it looks like Phil is about to pop the question; following them on walks under the stars, hiding in bushes with binoculars and making birds attack them; tackling Phil into the pool ect. ect. ect.)

But, plot twist, while pulling off these epic plans, the three of them...bond! Dun dun dunnnnn!!! Wilbur and Techno actually grow to like Tommy and think "Hey, maybe this kid ain't so bad" so they back out on the plans and try to convince Tommy to do the same. He won't.

(Meanwhile, Phil is just wondering why all his proposal attempts have gone so fucking wrong like???)

Anyways, fast forward. Its the last day of their holiday the two families go out for dinner. Its nice, they're having a good time, Kristen is chatting away to Tommy about Minecraft and Tommy is happy to tell her all about his favourite game. And then, Phil clears his throat.

He starts talking about Kristen and how happy he makes her, and Tommy can tell what's coming the moment Phil reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a small black box. And, in a final attempt to keep the life he has, Tommy snatches the box out of Phil's hand and fucking runs.

He runs right out of the restaurant, ignoring everyone calling after him, and doesn't stop running until he's on the beach, where he hides. And he cries. He cries because his dad is gonna replace him with Techno and Wilbur, and he misses his mum even though he never met her, and because this he knows that stealing a ring and running away isn't gonna stop this proposal from happening, and because the only family dynamic he knows is going to change and he isn't ready for that. And it's just a big angst moment.

And then some fluff.

Kristen finds him hidden by the rocks, and Tommy quickly pretends he wasn't just crying bc he's a big man and shit like that. He half expects her to immediately call for Phil and then for Phil to disown him, but instead she sits with him.

She asks if he's OK and when he doesnt answer her she just goes on talking about random things as if Tommy didn't just ruin their entire holiday (about shit like how she thought the cake at the restaurant was too dry and about the stars and different constellations and she even continues asking him about minecraft) and Tommy, after a while, talks back to her.

They talk for a while, arguing about the best Minecraft block (Tommy wholeheartedly defending cobblestone like his life depends on it) until eventually Kristen asks why he did what he did. And Tommy explains everything (that can basically be summed up in "I'm scared of change")

It's just a wholesome moment really. They're just sitting behind a bunch of rocks, Tommy is spilling his guts and Kristen is just listening. And at then end of it she's there to give him a big hug.

(I imagine Tommy saying that one cliche line "please don't hurt my dad" and Kristen being like "I wouldn't dream of it" and then Tommy gives her the ring box)

But yeah, happy ending! Phil proposes to Kristen on the beach and it's all happy and nice and cool and Tommy, Techno and Wilbur watch and Techno starts crying a little bc he's so happy for his mum.

...

I came up with this last night when I couldn't sleep.

#sbi #sbi headcanons #sbi au #sleepy bois inc #sleepy bois family #tommyinnit #technoblade #wilbur soot #philza #dadza #mumza

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harbingers-appointed · 3 years

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Y0ur Dem0n King, Small info post

Doodles of the mans

So the DemonKing Yb Au is still in its baby stages so nothing is wholly set in stone yet! (Just started working on this idea 4 days ago haha) so some information may be reworked later since it is under development still.

You had a normal life until one day you had a near death experience leaving you in a comatose state. However in that moment HE felt something, he felt YOU. And HE had to have you for himself. His whole being needed your soul next to him, as if you were made for him-no- you were made for him. He was sure of it. Your very soul was dragged to hell and your consciousness awoke in HELL... unsure where you were as you were carted off to some Palace. You were to serve as a servant for the rest of eternity.

All that's was left was to court you. However, he didn't want you to panic, he couldn't have that. He had devised a most devious plan to gain your trust and eventually, You.

There would be different "routes" for this Au, so YB's plan would be different based on his Yn~ though, typically his only goal is to just have you and have you believe you and him are destined to be together. Why else would you be here, reading this?

Information on the Demons

-The Demons reside in a version of "Hell" with Yb being the King aka Devil. Until YOU- his love interest- is pulled into Hell, Yb is a very cold and calculating ruler who spends most of his time cooped up in his Palace.(until you come into his life that is) While he is the Orginal Devil, many of his subjects have doubt in them over whether he is still fit to rule. That absolute power that's gone unchecked for too long has corrupted him.(and maybe it has...) He needs you to be by his side forever by any costs. He has most of the same traits from Classic!Yb, but with a demonic twist and a bit more caution. He is more wise and patient~ He has been waiting so long for you after all.

-Lucy rules over all succubi and all sex demons. She reigns as a seemingly aloof leader, but is very skilled in manipulation and using her abilities and magic to seduce others. Lucy respects Yb, but has her own agenda... so who knows who's side she is truly on.

-Tk is a demon of knowledge and magic, works as a tactician for Yb but has their doubts on Yb and his ideals. Depending on who you focus your romantic interest in will determine how Tk acts. They try to be a friend of You in every route, though perhaps more depending on how you are.

-Don is the second in command under Yb. He leads large legions of demons and is known for his wit, but also his work ethic. He doesn't agree with how Yb is running things in Hell, and is plotting to overthrow him in secret. He doesn't think much of Lucy even though she has definitely tried to bed him on more than one occasion. Don is respected by many demons for his strength.

Fun little tidbits

-Demons horns can be very sensitive to touch~.

-Yb might be insecure about his height.

-Demon Don, if he grows to respect You, you become one of his greatest weaknesses. But he will deny feelings for you at all costs... He knows his place.

-Lucy will always help you out with useful sex tips and supplies. While she seems disinterested I'm your situation it Isn't hard to tell she listens more than you think.

-Tk tends to hold back on talking to you too much out of fear of Yb. They know more about his "plans" than they admit to you.

-All the Demons can change their size at will, but maintaining a larger form for long is difficult and impractical.

- Yb wants to throw you a... once in a life time celebration when you finally take his hand.

-Demon Don typically has his scleras in his more demonic monstrous form (darkened)

-Yb has different magic that is including, but not limited to; controlliny blue flames, telekinesis, telepathy/not mind reading/, manipulating souls.

-demon tails are also very sensitive, but they can also be used like an extra appendage in some cases. Such as holding objects, stroking, touching... wrapping around things~♡

Alright

That's everything for now :)

I am sure I will have some more solid information soon! But here is the general idea for right now.

If you have any questions my asks are open!

I tag all my DemonKing Yb stuff with the tag #DemonKingYbAu

#my art #yourboyfriend #yourboyfriendgame #y0urb0yfriend #your boyfriend #DemonKingYbAu

238 notes · View notes

no-droids · 4 years

Text

The Secret

Pairing: Anakin Skywalker/Reader

Word Count: 4.2K

Rating: Explicit

Summary: On a dark and dreary night, Anakin tries to see if he can influence your dreams.

A/N: idk what in the hell this even is tbh I just started writing it two days ago idk what happened this is some inception shit but not the crazy ass mind bending plot twist part at the very end of inception but like just the cool middle part where you kinda get what’s sorta going on but not really okay anyways I gotta go

Warnings: There are DUBCON/NONCON ELEMENTS to this, smut/oral sex, a splash of m/m (sorta?), dark Anakin uses the force to mess with your dreams without your knowledge or consent so please read at your own discretion

***

Anakin knows it’s wrong.

It’s the middle of the night on a moon he never bothered learning the name of and Anakin knows it’s wrong when his eyes shift over to you for the fifth time in the past minute. Curled up with your back to him and the crackling firelight illuminating this tiny little cave, breathing soft and quiet through your nose as you sleep, the wind roaring monstrously outside. Anakin acknowledges it—the moral impropriety of even sitting here thinking about things he shouldn’t be with you so close by. It’s wrong, no getting around it.

But there’s also something inside him that… wants the wrongness.

He likes it. Anakin likes having secrets, he likes breaking rules even when nobody is consciously here to witness it. It makes him feel alive in a way that battlefields just can’t anymore, not after two years of constant conflict where the only enemies to feel his wrath have been comprised of nuts and bolts, their robotic cries never leaving him with any satisfaction anymore. At the start of the Clone Wars, sure, it was a thrill to slice through voice boxes and body parts, even if they were mechanical. But the droids aren’t afraid of death, they’re just programmed to stay alive. It’s like killing large, dumb swarms of bugs—it needs to be done for the common good but there’s never any true fulfillment in it anymore, it just feels like a task to be completed instead of an earnest, hard-earned goal.

He’s also been given direct permission to do it. He’s even been ordered to carry out enormous droid massacres on behalf of the Republic, but that’s the thing. Anakin isn’t looking for permission, see, it takes away half the thrill.

No, he wants to feel wrong. He wants to wonder if he shouldn’t have. He wants the quiet guilt, the sparkle of holding a secret he’ll never breathe a word about, the addictive power trip from having real influence over something, something equally as real.

Technically, Anakin is supposed to be on lookout right now. He’s meant to stay awake and patrol the perimeter of the cave for enemy combatants, but he doesn’t even bother pretending to be diligent when it’s just you two here. It’s not necessary. He’d be able to sense another lifeform miles away in this secluded, barren wasteland; there’s no threat to be found right now. He can keep warm by the crackling firelight in this cave, sheltered from the dust storm that spontaneously broke out a few hours ago. He can stay awake without moving a muscle and listen to your slow breathing all night long, letting it fill him with shameful desires he spends the daylight hours fighting and suppressing.

He silently flicks his gaze over to you once more, blinking as he studies you. He can sense your mind becoming creative in its slumber, beginning to swirl into dreamlike possibilities around yourself, about to choose a path for your consciousness to follow tonight. Yes, this is what he’s waiting for. He can’t force you to dream—that’s beyond his expertise as a Jedi. But if he finds himself in the right place at the right time, he can certainly try his best to… give you a suggestion.

The wind whistles outside and the fire pops quietly and you continue to breathe. In, and out. In, and out.

Anakin closes his eyes, and begins.

He first maps your body with the Force, trying to understand it on a deeper level. Gauge it—its proportions, its ambience, the thrumming lifeforce flowing through your veins even as you sleep. He has to be careful—as a fellow Knight, there’s no guarantee you won’t immediately be able to spot him exploring your energy in this way, there’s nothing to stop you from suddenly rolling over and asking just what exactly he thinks he’s doing.

But Anakin is patient. It’s one of the only times he can remember truly exercising that untapped potential inside him, perfectly content to allow you to drift while he works to find his bearings with you. Minds are complex, especially when they’re unconscious. They’re finicky and never stay in the same spot for long—it’s not like they evade, necessarily, but instead, they just… float around. Pulsing. In and out of existence, hiding behind and under immovable things, no rhyme or reason for it, vanishing into uncertainty and nothingness as soon as he thinks he’s found it. Like trying to find a microscopic air pocket in the depths of a pitch black ocean. He’s not losing any oxygen by existing right at the edges of your sleep, but it takes hard concentration to stay here, hidden, not allowing himself to slip. He’s looking, he’s looking… but he soon realizes he just needs to wait longer. He needs to wait until you float your way back around to him, until you present the opening yourself.

So Anakin waits.

And waits…

And then suddenly—

—There. He locks onto a flicker in the Force and holds, finally isolating and breaching the surface of your inner subconscious. Anakin smiles softly, a bead of sweat slowly dripping down his temple at the effort it took to locate you without alerting you of his presence. There you are. Maker, it sure is pretty in here, isn't it? He has you, he’s cradling the buried, hidden, most fragile part of your soul as you slumber, not knowing any better.

His heart thumps with excitement even though he’s barely done anything yet. To someone without sensitivity to the Force, they might just think the both of you are asleep right now. Just the two of you sitting still in this relatively small space, eyes closed, neither of you are touching, nobody has said anything or made any substantial movements in hours, nothing has changed in this world. All of it is existing in another plane, a place most people wouldn’t be able to recognize unless someone informed them of its existence, and even then, it would be beyond understanding.

But he has you now. He’s there, and he’s not going anywhere. He can allow his focus to dip just slightly, knowing your mind will pull him along through the comatose current. He senses you already working through the beginning whispers of dreams, but they’re not the kind people can ever remember. These aren’t formed, there’s no substance to them—it’s just pure, abstract dreamspace for your mind to drift through while you slumber.

Finding your true consciousness through all the murky, shapeless slumber was the test in skill. Now comes the luck.

Very carefully, without arousing any suspicion or drawing undue attention to himself, Anakin begins to drag the tip of his tongue against the back of his teeth. He doesn’t open his mouth, he doesn’t move a single muscle outwardly—he just lets his tongue begin to flitter around slowly in its enclosed cavern as he breathes, making the movements as soft and hypnotic as he can, matching the aimless way you’re carrying your mind and his shadow through the darkness.

He’s tried this before. Once or twice, with a pretty Ambassador he was tasked with protecting for a few months at the start of the Clone Wars, but the results were always less than ideal. He could never seamlessly transfer his desires through her consciousness before she awoke, perhaps because she wasn’t Force sensitive. The dream would either never happen, or he would push too hard and it’d turn into a rabid nightmare that fractured her thoughts and made her terrified to close her eyes for weeks. Not this time, though, Anakin isn’t going to allow it. Not with you, not after all the unprecedented effort it took to even just get himself here.

He finds a bit more passion to put into his movements, his jaw beginning to work with more purpose. Stars, he wants this to work, and while it’s probable that there’s an easier way to accomplish it, this isn’t something the Academy trains for. There’s only so much he can do except just be patient and giving with his soft, muted thoughts, urging you to make use of them without ever saying them aloud.

And suddenly, like the dark waves of your sleep decide to illuminate for him all on their own, your subconscious mind responds to the gentle stimulus. It carefully reaches out and studies the suggestion he’s silently offering, having spent what feels like an eternity trying to entice your rawest, most fundamental being into going somewhere it normally wouldn’t go, all without letting you know he’s even there.

His tongue is still moving. With purpose, with a specific intent in mind, Anakin allows his head to slowly fall back as he lifts his chin up towards it, wanting it more and more the longer you take to consider it, as if your mind is actively trying to tease him by playing hard to get. He can feel you right there, feel you thinking about it, and the whole thing is almost like some elaborate courting ritual while he waits with bated breath for you to decide whether or not to humor him.

But then, just when Anakin fears you may be too strong to be swayed, too powerful in the Force to be tempted by an outside source, you abruptly snatch the idea from him and start to run with it.

Suddenly parts of your spirit begin illuminating that should be dormant right now, and Anakin follows you, wherever you’re leading him. He knows none of this is necessarily intentional on your behalf—nobody can consciously pick and choose their dreams, not even Jedi. But this endeavor proves that it’s absolutely possible to subtly inspire them in each other, regardless of the morality behind it.

The wind continues to howl outside the cave and remind him that an entire universe still exists beyond your beautifully soporose mind, but the dreamscape gradually begins unfolding around him without any further prompting, requiring nothing more than what he’s already provided. Anakin’s tongue continues to simulate and suggest regardless, only now he feels the ghost of it beginning to materialize somewhere else besides the roof of his mouth, the sensations appearing before the images can be conjured to fill in the gaps. His hands suddenly tighten on his thighs at the soft, enticing feeling beginning to take root in you.

And oh. It’s… good. It feels different when his own body isn’t really the target of the stimulation, when he’s doing nothing more than simply experiencing it vicariously. Anakin supposes he could’ve bypassed all this effort, just aimed the pleasure more directly from the very beginning instead of working to inspire and coax it out of your own consciousness, but that was never his intention and it misses the point entirely. Where’s the challenge in it? The finesse is lost, it doesn’t appeal to him. It’s brash and brutish and not his style. No, this is what he wanted. He wanted to get just close enough to plant the most basic, fundamental idea in your head and then witness the rest of it all play out as a phantom passenger. Step back, strap in, and see how you kindle and manipulate the desire yourself, exactly the way you want it.

Anakin starts to breathe a little heavier through his nose, shoulders tense as he works to ride the slow swelling of your own prolonged pleasure with you, not knowing if or when it’s going to peak. He’s never made it this far before, he has no idea what to expect. Your consciousness does all the heavy lifting for him, your floor muscles move and contract without him needing to do anything to encourage it, the dream he seeded now completely taking over and whisking you both away.

But then… then suddenly Anakin doesn’t understand. Because yes, your mind works exactly the way he hoped it would—everything goes the incredibly precise direction he intended, and yet the destination is somehow… here? Back at the very beginning?

You dream of a cave. It’s exactly the same as the one you’re both silently holed up in for the night, and no new faces have appeared. If Anakin fluttered his eyes open at this specific moment, absolutely nothing around him would change. Except, perhaps, the subtle glow around everything—the watery way the air seems to be moving, as if it can’t decide whether it wants to exist or not so it strangely succeeds in doing both at the same time. He’s not really here—at least, he doesn’t think he is, he’s just seated on the dirt floor, appearing as nothing more than an invisible witness to it.

No. No, actually, he takes that back, he… is here. It takes him a moment to see the full picture as you’re still putting the puzzle pieces together, but… that’s him. A projection of himself at least, looking only slightly different but recognizable enough. Dark robes, robotic right arm, steady gaze.

But where are you? Anakin looks around the empty cave, still trying to understand how you’re painting this, his conscious mind moving much more rapidly than your own abstract one and yet also somehow taking so much longer to catch up to you. You’re not here. Why aren’t you here? He’s getting stuck on the details, he knows he’s lagging behind.

It takes a moment longer. Just one, before Anakin suddenly realizes that… he’s not just an invisible witness, is he?

He looks back down to see his own head now buried between his thighs.

But they’re not his thighs, not really. They’re yours. He’s just seeing everything from your point of view, feeling everything you’re feeling from the small little space he’s occupying in your mind.

At this point, Anakin needs to anchor. He feels himself—his real self, the one currently stuck in a cave in the midst of an unexpected dust storm—curl inwards and clamp his legs together. This will work. If he focuses enough to pinpoint the way his knees feel pressed tight together, he can have a tether to separate himself from your dream, the way yours are currently… wide open. This is all too similar to your true surroundings—he didn’t expect this, he doesn’t want to get lost.

And yet… Maker, it feels good. His long curls feel so soft in your hands, his tongue drags slow magic between your legs. When Anakin first suggested the idea to you, he didn’t think you’d assign the role back to him. He assumed you had someone else in mind, somewhere else you wished to be besides this dull, dreary setting. He gave you just an inkling of a prompt, and this is what the most creative part of your mind created. Something he could be doing at this exact moment, if only he’d known you’d be interested.

Then again, Anakin thinks, you may have just recognized him subconsciously. You may have attached him to the idea already, if only because he was the truest originator of it. But it doesn’t matter now, he can’t process such complex thoughts while maintaining the suspended mental state he’s in—he feels like he’ll either completely fall into it or out of it if he tries.

But as your muscles continue to work and your pleasure continues to build, it becomes harder and harder to separate where he is in relation to you. Anakin clenches his legs tighter together as you open yours wider apart, the dream gaining more strength as it develops. Stars, it’s—it’s—

Anakin starts to lose it and he needs to tug on that tether to his surroundings again, but it’s way more difficult than it should be to recognize himself. His calloused fingers on his left hand tremble as he reaches up and uses them to cover his face, biting his tongue to stop the low rumbles of ecstasy that want to claw their way out of his throat. Maker, this feels so… different from the build he knows. He thought—if he was successful—that he’d be able to handle it as silently and stoically as he’s able to handle his own pleasure, but this is something else entirely. Why does it feel so… so spectacular? Maker, he never realized the sensation was all that different on the inside, much less that he was actually missing out by having a dick between his legs.

But then suddenly there’s a pause, a break in the way you’ve been rhythmically squeezing and flexing your body for him.

The dream adapts to it. Anakin looks down between your open thighs just in time to see himself pulling away from your warmth, putting two fingers in his mouth, before slowly easing his hand back down between them.

No, he thinks, a bright flare of panic sparking inside him as he immediately snatches and yanks the tether to reality, popping his eyes open and pulling away from your mind entirely, oh no—wait, that’s not what I—

But see. That’s the thing about being so meticulous about conjuring something that doesn’t actually exist. Once his brilliant creation decides to backfire on him—a fool-proof way to escape it doesn’t actually exist either.

He… he can’t wake up. No matter how much his body struggles backwards on the dirt floor of the cave, how wide he can feel his eyes are right now, how excruciatingly aware he is that none of this is real, none of this is actually happening to him, he’s caught in the dream he planted and you’re hauling him along for the ride. The closest he can describe it is like having footage play in one eye while the other can see perfectly fine. He knows where the line that separates reality is, but he can’t escape your consciousness’s crushing gravitational pull; it’s too massive and overwhelming now, he can’t gain enough velocity to get home. Real life exists but only through a window, and being stuck on the other side like this—knowing he’s dreaming but not being able to jolt awake when he’s very ready to leave—is suddenly more terrifying than any nightmare Anakin has ever experienced.

It also has unintended consequences. Clinging so desperately to his own body has made him completely aware of it in the purgatory he’s now trapped himself in, but the pleasure is still there so the source of the stimulation is still there. They’re not your thighs anymore, they’re his thighs again. But that’s also still him between his legs, continuing to ease his fingers forwards.

He keeps retreating back and away from them no matter what, but there’s nothing more he can do.

Anakin helplessly watches on as his own fingers slowly disappear up inside himself, and his eyes instantly lose focus and his jaw goes slack as he feels it the way you would. They’re not real, so there’s no pain, no true pressure or stretch, just… hard, unadulterated stimulation starting to burn up inside him.

He doesn’t realize his body kept moving until he suddenly feels the wall of the cave slam into his back and he has to brace himself against it, frantically shoving himself back into it as far as he can with his legs and digging his nails into dirt at the base, scrabbling for breath and stability. Anakin tightens up wickedly as you both bear down on the phantom intrusion, sweat beading at his hairline as he works to process the foreign sensation and you whimper quietly in your sleep. His cock is rock hard between his legs and he shudders to think that his mind will compensate for the difference and his alter ego will actually take it into his mouth—but no, the projection doesn’t change because it’s still coming from you, still being led by your own desires. Dream-Anakin’s mouth drops and his tongue comes out to keep licking your slit but to the real Anakin, it just looks like his mouth disappears somewhere near his balls, and then a magnificent swell of bliss suddenly kicks in before he can fight as savagely against it as he wants. He’d normally be repulsed, and maybe he currently is to some extent, but because your pleasure spikes so dangerously with it, his hips stutter into the sensation just as desperately.

He’s making noise, he knows he is—he can feel his throat working too hard for just air to be moving through. No, he’s whimpering, or moaning, or doing something but he can’t hear himself at all. His instinct is to yell as loudly as he can, to try and wake you up manually, but it doesn’t seem to work, you’re way too far gone now. He listens for the dust storm that should be screaming outside, the popping of the fire somewhere in this cave, but they’re suddenly nowhere to be found. He’s being dragged under by your enormous current that’s somehow still continuing to build in strength, losing oxygen by the second. He’s not ready for it, he doesn’t want it, he’s terrified, he needs to wake up—

Anakin slams his head back against the wall hard enough to make himself bleed and gasps raggedly as he loses his grip on everything, shutting his eyes tight with his fist shoved up against his teeth. Nothing exists at all anymore but the swirling typhoon that continues raging forth. Beyond purgatory, and then beyond heaven.

When you finally do manage to find the absolute peak of your climb, he’s sure he all but blacks out with it.

It’s pure, blinding rapture on all levels—physical, metaphysical, whatever else exists after that. It surges up with razor-sharp claws of merciless ecstasy and he’s just not equipped to experience anything anywhere close to it. The connection between your minds thrums and sparks violently; Anakin feels the way your body practically soars over top of the pleasure while his is just being ruthlessly pummeled into the ground by it. He’s not meant to handle this, he literally wasn’t made to survive the devastating anomaly—it’s as wicked and excruciating as it is dazzling, and he wonders if he’ll ever truly be able to come back from it.

Eventually, Anakin manages to find his way back to himself. Eventually.

His cock is throbbing, that’s the first thing he‘s able to notice. The dirt floor beneath him that somehow feels slightly different than before, the fetal position he’s assuming on top of it, the once sturdy wall now crumbling to dust against his back.

The next thing he notices is the utter, complete mess he made. Blood slowly drips in a line down his neck and more cum than he’s ever felt himself produce before drenches the front of his pants. Anakin slowly blinks his eyes open, trying to fight the vertigo and wondering if he might have a concussion right now. There are cracks and fractures in the ground that branch out from the small crater at his back, and the fire is completely extinguished now, charred logs splintered and strewn about like somebody detonated a bomb in here.

At some point, his gaze drags over towards you, and remarkably, you haven’t moved. Still curled up on your side with your back to him, still breathing slow and steady and undisturbed.

Anakin pants in exhaustion and waits for you to turn over to address him and what he did. There’s no way you’re still asleep, not after what just happened. Anakin couldn’t get through it without sending a giant shockwave through the entire cave and quite literally rupturing the ground beneath him, he’s surprised you even managed to stay in one spot the entire time. He doesn’t know if you feel violated right now and are refusing to acknowledge him, or if it’s just taking as long as he is for your brain to catch up and start functioning again.

That is, until he hears a small snore come from your unmoving body once more.

Anakin blinks.

No. You have to be awake, he figures, moving to prop himself upright and wipe the blood from his neck with the dark sleeve of his robe. There’s no possible way that the orgasm you both shared is actually… normal, no, the sheer power of it had to be influenced by his presence somehow. He must have… increased it, or something. Anakin doesn’t know how, but he knows he must be directly responsible, this had to have been the strongest you’ve ever cum in your life and you just don’t know how to confront him about it right now, so you’re pretending to sleep. Yes, that’s what it is, that’s what it has to be.

He’s not going to check, though. He’s not going to find any lingering energy left within himself to summon and look for the thick darkness of sleep still enveloping you, he’s not going anywhere near your signature right now. No, Anakin is fine just like this, exactly where he is. Instead of verifying or confirming his own understanding, he’ll just be extra confident in it, that’s always worked well for him.

So he just sits back and takes a deep, shuddering breath, feeling like his whole body is weak and trembling with fatigue. Maybe you are asleep, he shrugs. Maybe he’s wrong, and selfish, and an idiot. Or maybe.

Maybe you just like keeping secrets, too.

#anakin x reader #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker #anakin x you #anakin skywalker x you #Smut #reader insert #dark anakin #no-droids

3K notes · View notes

vina-writes · 3 years

Text

Ten Favorite Drarry Fic Recs

I’ve reached a bit of a follower milestone, and I thought, why not celebrate? I’m happy! This is an incredible feeling that I honestly can’t fully articulate in writing. Knowing someone enjoyed my work and presence enough that they’d want to be notified if I posted again just makes me squeal and want to hug everyone from joy!! Thank you to anyone who has ever left me kudos, a comment, a tag, a note, an emoji, a tag emoji!! I am endlessly grateful to you all for this support and kindness.

Now, since it’s party time, I’ve compiled a personal list of my ten favorite Drarry fics to share the love. This is by no means a stamp of quality (as there are thousands of brilliant fics out there) and neither is it a guarantee that these are everyone’s cup of tea. But they are certainly my cup of tea— my whole buffet honestly.

I chose fics that made me feel deeply. Fics that made me cry, laugh, throw my phone, squeal and wiggle and dance at the end. These (mostly) weren’t fics which answered deep philosophical questions. They were fics which instead showed me love and adventure, joys and betrayals, misunderstandings and occasionally unbelievable (but appreciated) levels of smut (you know who you are). These are stories I read to be entertained, entranced, delighted, and happy. These are stories that made me feel in love.

In honor of that (and of my Canva addiction) I’ve made little banners for each. I hope they do some justice to these works. I’ve tried to capture the feeling of each fic in just one image. Without further ado, read on to find out exactly what my guilty pleasure (as if Drarry isn’t enough) is:

The Songbirds of Avebury Manor by Tessa Crowley [E, 18k]

Summary: Harry Potter presents as alpha at fifteen, and it is supposed to change his life for the better. Instead, it leads him to a beautiful noble omega he cannot have, a political plot he cannot escape, and a threat on his life.

This story. Oh my stars, this story. What can I even say to properly express how I feel about it? This is the Romeo and Juliet, the Pride and Prejudice, the Hades and Persephone of Drarry. Reading this made me feel like an unwedded Victorian lass waiting for her Prince Charming. It’s a wonderful Historical AU that throws around power dynamics and questions of who is worthy of love, freedom, and respect despite them. This is a brilliant portrait of deep romantic love. Harry’s dedication to Draco is all-encompassing, beautiful, intense, intimate— earth shattering, really. The way they fall in love despite class and situation made me want to cry and write poetry. This is a true fairytale romance.

The Pirate and the Prince by @nerdherderette, maniacani [E, 49k]

Summary: Draco can't believe that fate and circumstance have made him a stowaway on the Master of Death's ship. He doesn't know what's worse: the dread pirate's legendary vendetta against the aristocracy, or the fact that his captor is the most infuriating yet irrefutably fascinating man Draco has ever met.

The moment I started this story I knew it was going to be an instant favorite. It’s swashbuckling, debonair yet disheveled, dangerous, fun, adventurous— everything you could desire from a romance on the high seas! Though they come from very different backgrounds, this Draco and Harry are a power couple to the core. Their romance is once again beautiful, intense, and dedicated, but this time it’s mixed with a healthy dose of self-exploration and mutual acceptance. But apart from romance this fic holds delicious secrecy and identity issues, an astounding knowledge of sailing ships, plenty of piratey shenanigans, some heart-wrenching found family dynamics, a cursing parrot, and a glorious angst with a happy ending finale!

Soup-pocalypse and the Great Curry Cataclysm by SquadOfCats [E, 104k]

Summary: Eleven years after the war, Draco Malfoy leads a quiet, boring, and perfectly respectable life, thanks very much. Or, at least he does, until a sudden and very unexpected veela awakening causes him to throw soup all over Harry Potter in the middle of the Ministry cafeteria.

What can I say about Soup-pocalypse? It will lure you in with tales of Veelas and romance, and then it will kidnap you and throw you in cooking class and therapy. You’ll come out wondering what just happened and how two days have passed. There will, of course, be Veelas and romance aplenty, but it will be a caring romance, a familial romance, a supportive and kind and nurturing romance. This story feels like family, good cooking, sunny days, the deep heartbreak of change, and through all of it, the truth of a real and solid partnership. This is the humorous yet angst-ridden tale of two idiots learning to love as adults, and then in turn learning to face the world together.

you’ve got the antidote for me by Kandakickass [M, 20k]

Summary: When Harry Potter unintentionally severs their soulbond before it can fully form, Draco Malfoy resigns himself to a slow death and decides not to burden Harry with a soulmate he's made it very clear he doesn't want.

He's never been selfless before, but for Harry, he can try.

Right then. On to the angstiest story I’ve ever read and truly enjoyed. Not just enjoyed, adored! Worshipped! Come back to time and again whenever I needed a good cry! Here is the beauty of it: this fic is deeply painful and heartbreaking, yet it steers clear of emotions like disgust and discomfort. Never once was it disturbing— only sorrowful, in the purest and most heart-wrenching way. Yet despite the pain strung throughout the majority of it, this fic left me feeling relieved and rejuvenated, the way one feels after crying their heart out over something simple. It’s an emotional release that does not leave you broken.

On the Last Day of Our World by Sansa [E, 84k]

Summary: During a detention, Harry and Draco get locked in a strange room together overnight. When they escape the next morning, they discover they are alone. Love, angst and adventure abound as they struggle to survive in an empty world.

Truly one of my favorite takes on canon divergence. Truly. This is an exploration of isolation and the joys and comforts that come with it. It is the power couple Drarry to rule them all— a Draco and Harry so strongly connected, in love, and attuned to one another that the world could fall at their feet. This story leaves you on the edge of your seat until the very bitter end— one of those where the second things are briefly peaceful the world goes up in a new set of flames. Those of you who daydream about a partnership that needs no others, two souls who are each other’s family, friend, and future, and would gladly abandon everything to spend eternity alone together: this is for you.

The Arc of the Pendulum by brummel [E, 30k]

Summary: After his father casts a mysterious curse on Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy is forced to try to make things right.

Yes. YES. YES!!! The Beauty and the Beast take you didn’t know you needed! Still canon-compliant to an extent, this is realistic and raw and incredible. Draco makes the choice to help Harry here, and the vulnerability of their interactions while Harry struggles with the curse is everything you could hope it to be. There’s a distinct fairytale atmosphere in this fic— both of them confined together, finding support and comfort in one another while struggling through the effects of the curse, and falling in love along the way. I could write sonnets about the ending using my tears for ink, but they shan’t be revealed here.

Picking Up Pieces by Tessa Crowley [E, 43k]

Summary of Part One: Fifteen years after the War, Draco is a social recluse and award winning author. Harry is an auror who works too hard, ensuring his old war wounds never heal. They meet at a masque ball, unaware of each other's identities. In another situation, it would have been love at first sight. But for them, it would never be so simple.

Picking Up Pieces deserves no introduction, but if you haven’t read it yet, please find a blanket, and cup of tea, and a quiet place to read, cry, and recover. I sobbed my little heart out through the entire second half— the tears were really never ending. How does it end up on a reclist by a fluff lover like me? The answer is similar to Antidote— though this story broke me apart, it was never twisted nor ugly, never disturbing. It was an incredibly touching tale of redemption, forgiveness, human nature, and recompense. The writing does put you through the emotional wringer, but it leaves you relieved and whole. I would lay down my life for this Draco. He truly needs to be protected and loved at all costs. Even though I’m usually careful when recommending heavy stories, I would encourage everyone to read this— it made me feel new, it made me feel like I’d spent an hour crying in the shower, but most of all, it really did make me happy.

Two Trees by LakeWitch [E, 36k]

Summary (shortened): In his Eighth year at Hogwarts, part of Draco Malfoy's probation is to see a Mind Healer once a week. Another part, unfortunately, is having to take Muggle Studies.

It wouldn't be so bad, really, if it weren't for the mandatory outing—a 'field trip'—booked at a Muggle lakeside retreat for the better part of five days. [...] Draco is determined to get it all over with as painlessly as possible. He'll keep his head down, and stay out of everyone's way. That is, until Pansy tells him—at the very last moment—that she's schemed to have Draco stay in the same room with Potter for the whole trip.

Just the two of them... in one room.

This is the comfort fic of all comfort fics. It feels like camping, like sitting by a lake in the sun, like marshmallows over a fire and sparks against a starry sky, and cool, feather-soft hotel sheets. Draco is dealing with several different anxieties here, but the brilliant setting and easy plot turn them into a cathartic read. This is a fic about young love and the ability to build bonds on trips. It made me remember my first crushes and the feeling of getting breakfast in a hotel lobby. There’s cuddling, there’s love, there’s some highly emo Draco (both warranted and unwarranted), and there’s a truckload of nature. Go read it!

Your Place Or Mine? by @l0vegl0wsinthedark [E, 26k]

Summary: "This person is so much harder to hate. And I’m supposed to hate Malfoy. How the fuck else am I supposed to limit this to just sex?"

At first I was like, “Damn, Harry,” but then I was all, “Damn Harry!” but then I went, “DAMN Harry!” (interspersed with a lot of whistling and cursing). I could have slapped him, and you will want to. This is another Draco that deserves endless love and hot chocolate, with a Harry that deserves a good smack. I think about this fic weekly, and not just because it’s endlessly hot— although it is scorching hot, like how do you even write something that hot type of hot. Draco’s pining and Harry’s stupidity makes for the angstiest yet most satisfying friends-with-benefits-but-really-there’s-more combination, and the climax (pun intended) and resulting spill of emotions is everything anyone could hope for. Ten out of ten.

The Courting by the Pureblood Who Only Has Five Milligrams of Romantic Intelligence and Thinks He’s Real Smooth by @cibeewastaken [T, 19k]

Summary (shortened): Draco could grab Potter and shove him into a stall before proceeding to suck his soul out of his dick, but secretly, deep down, in the part of Draco that he will never admit to anyone, he is (everyone pauses to shudder) a romantic. Potter is not someone Draco wants a one-off with. Potter is — Draco’s beloved!

So Draco decides to boldly go where no one has gone before: to put himself through scrutiny; their friends’ teasing and pranks; unsound romantic advice from a house-elf; wearing pretty clothes; all to try and win Potter’s heart through courtship...

This thing of beauty is exactly as hilarious as it sounds. However, it is so much more than the endless laughs (although there are many). It is sweet, tender, touching, and filled with glorious pining and misunderstandings. Inside you’ll find extravagant (the word was literally invented for Cibee’s Draco) outfits, confusing customs, a blanket that brought me to tears, one badass house-elf, one very confused beloved, absolutely no fornication (wink), and one hopelessly smitten pureblood. Be warned, this fic is actually three “What the fuck, Draco?”s in a trenchcoat. I read it when I want to laugh, facepalm, and submerge myself in the adorable stupidity that is Draco Malfoy in love. It is well worth your time and is sure to bring a smile to your face.

With this final fic we conclude my list on a happy note! It’s long, it’s tedious, and I had a spanking good time writing it. I hope these bring some joy or happy tears to your day.

Love, Vina

#vina recs #oh my look a new tag!#long post #drarry #drarry fic rec

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