#Spoilt little bastards | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

loganlermanstanaccount · 11 months

Note

Hello! Could you please write a stubborn, jealous hc for Miguel o'hara? Thank you!!

I had the brainworms, so I hope this is what you were looking for! Thanks for the ask <3

Jealous!Miguel O'Hara Headcanons

(AO3 Mirror), Main Masterlist

pairing: jealous!Miguel O'Hara x reader

summary: stubborn HCs for jealous!Miguel O'Hara.

a/n: this was meant to be a drabble and i basically wrote a full fic. i have zero self control lmfao

warnings: smut (fingering, f receiving oral, slight brat taming, etc) right at the very end, 18+ from then onwards, the rest is more pg-13

wc: 3.5k ish

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Long story short: he's a stubborn little shit.

Pig-headed as fuck and it shows up in little things.

Let's say you first met as coworkers, and you were a lab technician at Alchemax.

Think: unstoppable force meets immovable object. He likes his labs just so, with very specific equipment in a very specific configuration.

It drives you crazy, regularly having tiffs outside the labs; much to the chagrin of your coworkers.

"Jesus." Your coworker mutters, wincing at the seemingly heated argument by the water cooler.

"Ignore it, Maeve." Another coworker rolls their eyes, nudging Mave with a snort. "They're at it again . S'pose they'll tire each other out by the end of the day."

Not that they were wrong. But this time, it wasn't your fault: dealing with O'Hara's bullshit had really taken it's toll. He was insufferable, prone to nitpicking and just plain mean. You could hardly be blamed if you gave him some of your own choice words.

"My notes were basically paint-by-fucking-numbers! How could you mess up a simple distillation? When I specify precision glassware , you don't think that's fucking important?"

"Your notes ," You draw air quotes pointedly at him. "-are illegible, you fucking cretin! Maybe if you didn't write like a goddamn pre-schooler-"

"- preschooler? Oh , fuck you!"

"Get your nose out of that highschool Chem textbook, O'Hara, this is a fucking job."

"Yeah? Stop using it to wipe your ass and you might learn a thing or two."

"Oh , so that's what we're doing?" You laugh in his face, so angry your hand curls into tight fists. You get close, staring him down as you look upwards through your lashes. His own face is contorted into a grimace; bushy eyebrows furrowed into deep shadows around his eyes. You can feel his steady breathing before he speaks, low and rumbling.

"I could do this all day, princesa. "

You scoff, ignoring the way his words weaken your knees. The one time you asked for a break during a long lab and he won't stop calling you a spoilt princess. His laughter then stings in your ears now, the ghost of a smirk on his face as you storm off. Miguel O'Hara: smug bastard. He would be the death of you, you're sure.

~~~

You spend many a late night with him, unwittingly, and find out he's more than a stubborn little shit.

You find out he's funny, and shares the same anti-Alchemax tendencies you do: both preyed upon by the company immediately after graduation, young and naive.

He's kind, even though he'd never admit it, often finishing up the lab notes and doing more than his fair share of work so you can go home at a reasonable time.

You both still butt heads, but it turns into a tentative friendship - coffees in the morning hidden as blaise convenience, covering for each other at work, and defending the other when office gossip goes too far.

That's why when he comes back to work after a week-long stint away - something about a blow up with the boss, an issue described as 'miscommunication, promptly smoothed over' by anyone official - you notice… something's different about him.

You first noticed something was off when he walked in without a snide remark. You left a mug overnight at the counter, something that would usually draw a sarcastic comment at the least , but he gives you… nothing. Blank, glassy eyes as he opens up his workstation - clicking away at the keys without so much as a glance.

"O'Hara?" You call, but he doesn't even look up. You walk to his workstation and knock at the desk. He jumps. God, he looks worse for the wear. Heavy bags under his eyes and a bruise blossoming under his collar.

"You okay?"

He rubs his temples, eyes flitting up at you. "Yeah, just…. just a long week, s'all."

You put a hand on his shoulder, and you swear he leans into your touch. "We can reschedule, tonight. The calculations can wait, Miguel."

He gives you a weak smile, but a smile nevertheless. "S'okay. Need to make sure you don't fuck it up."

"Don't push your luck, O'Hara."

~~~

As you get closer, you notice just how stubborn he is to admit the growing tension between you two.

Late nights at the lab turn into takeout at your place, morning coffee turns into a pleasant 20 minutes on the rooftop away from the hustle and bustle - just you and Miguel, talking and joking with a cup of shitty coffee in hand.

Wholly, he seems more assertive at work, not as quick to roll over.

It's hot, you have to admit; watching him fight with someone else other than you.

You're at work drinks with the other technicians and engineers, nursing a watery beer when another colleague makes small talk with you at the bar.

You’ve never been that close to him, and the conversation is amicable enough, but you’re almost bowled over when you see Miguel, in the corner, staring straight at you with a stormy look.

You suppose it's a little pathetic, getting all dressed up for a casual drink. Lips shiny with gloss and gently powdered with makeup, you feel a little out of place. For all your talk at work, actually being here was another thing. Suddenly, your blouse is too tight and your skirt too short. With a manicured finger, you trace the lip of your glass filled with watery beer. You sigh. You don't want to admit it, but you were only here because of Miguel. He said he would come, and now you're sitting on a barstool counting the chips in your glass.

It was probably for the best. You sink into the absentminded chatter of your colleagues around you, until there's a tap at your shoulder.

"Is someone-" He clears his throat; a tall man dressed in a sharp suit nodding gracefully towards the empty chair. "-is this seat taken?"

You shake your head, grateful for the company. He's handsome, sharp features curving into a wry grin as he calls for a drink.

"...and something other than shitty beer for the pretty girl, too." It makes you laugh, light and lilting in the bustle of the bar.

He stretches out his hand, and you take it.

"Eddie Crouch. I work in marketing."

Eddie…. as in… head of the most profitable division of Alchemax? Your eyes widen involuntarily and you try to clamp down your immediate shock, somewhat unsuccessfully. He narrows his eyes as you tumble over your words.

"Y-Yeah, same! I mean, not same , I just work in the l-labs and I thought it was just for us guys, working behind the curtain, y'know? Not that we're not thrilled to have you here, because we a-are." You spill out, wincing. "....Is this about the performance reviews? Because I know output was down this quarter but our projections are-"

"I'm not here to talk about work." He chuckles. You squint, not convinced. As if to alleviate your concerns, he loosens his tie and undoes his top buttons with a flourish.

"Can I tell you a secret?" He leans in, and the air becomes thick with expensive perfume. He twirls the signet ring on his finger, a ring probably worth more than your monthly paycheck.

"Your boss invited me," Discreetly, he stretches a finger at your boss; a man ruddy cheeked and red-faced with alcohol. "Guess he thought it would boost morale. He's a fucking idiot if he thinks having me, the one guy that could fire your entire department without recourse, exchange empty platitudes would boost morale. But, I digress. So here I am, dragging my feet to this bar, thinking I'm gonna get in, read the lines and get out. But then, " He pauses with dramatic effect. "I see the most beautiful person I've ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes on, just sitting by the bar. Like everyone isn't already falling over themselves to talk to you."

The irony is palpable. It's sickly sweet, and a line that wouldn't usually work on you. But usually, you weren't pining over a man so prickly and stubborn, you shouldn't have feelings for. Here you were, bright cocktail in front of you and a moderately attractive man by your side. He wasn't quite Miguel, but in the words of one of the greatest thinkers of the past age: country girls make do.

And so you make lazy conversation with the man. So lost in a tipsy haze, you barely notice Miguel walk in; dark jacket on his shoulders and deliciously loose slacks. You're drawn to him, his eyes seemingly searching the room, and you sigh into your drink. Technically, he looks like shit: eyes dark-rimmed and sunken, a cut at his brow. You think he is gorgeous, eyes tracing the slope of his nose and plush lips. Like he can sense it, he glances over in your direction and you look away hastily. He's watching , you can feel its burn as you turn, pretending to listen to the man besides you. A little cruelly, you lean into him, not breaking eye contact and curling a hand around his arm to laugh at a stupid joke. Eddie laughs with you, oblivious, as you glance behind him.

Miguel stands with a drink thrust into his hands, looking straight through him, eyes low and gazing at you.

~~~

He insists on walking you home, a steady hand on the small of your back as you stumble through the streets of Nueva York.

You make light conversation, tipsy and giggly from the alcohol. Miguel seems a little more put together, but his chest still creaks with rumbling laughter.

He definitely walks on the side of the pavement nearest the street, because he thinks it keeps you safer.

He walks you up the stairs and by the door of your apartment, like a gentleman. You watch him get nervous suddenly, and he hesitates, stubbornly digging in his heels and pausing you from opening the door and coming in.

You don't want it to end, opting to take the walk up the stairs as opposed to the lift. It's one of your more questionable decisions as you stumble up the stairs, almost tripping over your own feet. Miguel is quick to catch you even though he was just as drunk. Arm around your waist, he leaves searing touches to your hip. You giggle despite yourself, and he can't help but smile at your clumsiness.

"If you break your legs I won't carry you, princesa ." A lie and you both know it. He would carry you to the ends of the earth like a blushing bride, if you asked him.

You both stagger to up the stairs and through the corridor until you reach your front door. You rummage around your bag for your keycard, it's contents click-clacking in the quiet of the hallway. Miguel watches, quieter than he was in the journey. If you looked up now, you would see something else behind his eyes - a storm of apprehension and tension.

You find your keycard, and look up to find Miguel placing a careful palm on the door. He's surprisingly still, eyes on your lips as he steps closer. You look everywhere but to meet his eyes, tracing the curve of his collarbone, the slope of his exposed forearm, and the tempting juncture of his strong jaw. You watch it tense, as he brings a gentle hand to your chin. His thumb swipes over the fat of your lip.

"Got somethin' right… there." He mumbles, before tucking his hand away. You can barely breathe. Without thinking you take his hand in yours, lacing your fingers together like a gentle hug. You bring his hand to your waist, and he squeezes, ever so gently. Your hand drops and he moves his slowly, knuckles dragging along the smooth silk of your blouse, and then sending shivers when he reaches your bare neck.

He has to bite down the plethora of things running through his head - his drunken brain threatening to spill all his thoughts. You are so beautiful and soft it makes him short-circuit, desperate to pull you close. Instead, you do: hand inching up his chest and laying to rest on his shoulders.

He kisses you, finally ; a little messy and impossibly soft. Like his lips on yours would shatter you both. You deepen the kiss and wrap his arm tighter around you, angling your chin to drink up even more of you. You both come up for air, panting in the heat of one another. Miguel's eyes are full of lust and blown out.

"Do…do you want to come in?" You whisper.

Something catches in his throat and his expression changes, like he just woke up from a dream. Do you just want to sleep with him? He's not built for one night stands, can't do just sex, especially if it's you. No matter how much he wants to, he can't, he won't, "....I shouldn't."

The disappointment on your face is palpable. You want to ask why - after he kissed you like that - why doesn't he want you? Instead you nod dejectedly. He gives you a chaste kiss on the forehead, lingering, and a shaky smile.

You open your door with a buzz, and slam it in his face.

~~~

It takes Miguel some time to properly put a name to what you two have: not knowing if the kiss was a drunken mistake, animal attraction or something more.

He's not a grand gestures kind of person, he believes in action rather than words.

Which is why it takes so long for him to admit just how in love with you he is.

He steals glances at you all the time at the office, and tries to anticipate all your needs.

When you stretch and yawn in the morning, he happens to pass by your favourite coffee place and happens to buy one too many cups of your go-to order.

So imagine his shock when he arrives from his lunch break, churros and coffee in hand, and there's one of the top brass from the night at the bar perched on your desk - 2 polystyrene cupfuls of something half drunk on the desk.

He's never been insecure, but he can't help but feel possessive, something tense and tight growing at the base of his stomach.

"What was it you wanted to talk about?" You step into the equipment cupboard, Miguel close behind you. You rub your temples, anticipating an argument. "O'Hara, if this is about my calibration tests this morning, I swear to God -"

"No, no , nothing like that." He's quick to say. "They were… okay." He strains.

You raise an eyebrow. Okay? Since when did Miguel pass up an opportunity for a mindless fight? Your mind races with his actions of the past few days. He has been different since the night at the bar, a little nicer, sure, but nothing this out of the ordinary.

"That guy you were talking to. I saw him at the bar, and now here. Who is he?"

Your eyebrows shoot up. "You do not have the right to ask me th-"

"Are you fucking him?" A pause, and you study his expression, deducing that he is completely fucking serious .

"Are you insane? You definitely don't have the right to ask me that." You make for the door, and he steps in front of it, blocking it with his body.

"I need to know. Tell me and then I'll leave you alone, I promise." His voice is low and thick with something.

You step closer and he wraps his hands around your waist absentmindedly. The pressure feels good, and makes your brain fog up.

He repeats himself, softer. "Are you fucking him?"

You look at him for a moment, before shaking your head. His facial expression is steady, just as unreadable.

"Do you want to?"

You hesitate, wanting to be cruel and say yes, just to see his reaction. Perceptive, he sees your hesitance and says something that almost knocks you over.

"I could fuck you better than he ever could," He kneads your thigh now, lips close to the shell of your ear in the tight space of the cupboard. " Princesa , look at me."

You look at him, almost whimpering and putty in his hands. He's like a siren and you are lost in the pull of his gaze. It may be the proximity, but you swear you see a tinge of red in his eyes, like deep pools of lust.

"Will you let me fuck you?" He pulls you closer so the meat of his thigh presses against your clothed cunt. Your stretchy pencil skirt rides up suggestively, and you rock your clit against him, searching for sweet pressure. You nod.

Miguel titters softly, a hand on your chin pulling your lips to his. You moan into his kiss, body aching. It's hot and heavy like the kiss outside your door, but he swirls his tongue around yours and expertly nips at your lower lip. He guides your hips to rock against his thigh, tensing to make sure it's corded muscle hits the right places. He wants to break you apart, leave you so cock-drunk, you wouldn't think of even glancing at another man.

You separate and he dips a hand under your skirt. He pulls it up and places a big palm at your pussy, with a well timed slap. You bite into his neck with the pressure. You definitely don't expect it when he rips open your stockings like they were paper.

"Fuck, Miguel."

"It's okay, baby, I'll get you new ones." Your eyes roll back as he slips aside the gusset to run a finger through your lower lips. Shamelessly, he slips a finger in, then two, basking in the wet squelch of your heat. You claw at his forearm, as he curls them into that sweet spot.

You press your forehead to his shoulder, chasing his fingers with your hips. His sharp eyes watch every movement, every stutter and start that his fingers pull from you. He's practical, a man of action, and he is desperate to show you how much he cares.

"I've thought about you… about this." He hisses as you cover your mouth to dampen your moans.

"Wanted you for so long, princesa. Want to know how you taste, what this beautiful pussy feels like. What you look like when you cum."

His wrist aches with the back and forth motion but his pace barely faulters.

" M-Miguel …"

He applies pressure to your clit, and watches in awe as you spasm, nails digging into his forearm.

" Oh, there it is. Right there, hmm? Does that feel good?"

You nod frantically with a stifled sob.

"Not quite, baby. Need to hear you say it. Or I won't let you cum."

"...fuuck you."

" Oh, you'd like that. Still not what I want to hear. Tell me how much you like it when I fuck you with my fingers."

"F-Feels good." You stutter. He stops, wrenching his hand out of your pussy to leave you clenching around nothing.You almost scream.

"You're being a brat, not my princesa , hmm? Only good girls get to cum."

" Miguel , please. I'll do anything." He guides you along his thigh, still lodged between your legs, and licks up your wetness on his other hand. "You m-make me feel so good. So good. And I want you so much it hurts, sometimes. I just want to cum, don't even need your cock. Fuck me with something , please."

"Miguel? Not asshole? Or fucking idiot, this time?"

"Please, Miguel ." Your pleas go straight to his cock. He throbs with need, cock rock hard under his slacks.

He relents, not able to bear your dopey puppy-dog eyes for much longer. He slips three fingers in, without bothering to prep you. He hisses at the tightness of your heat, pounding into you and knuckle deep with his fingers. Shamelessly, you fuck yourself back on them, hips rolling over his thigh. He can't tear himself away from the sight, palming himself through tented trousers.

You kiss and nip at his neck, as he whispers obscenities at you under his breath.

"Can you cum for me, princesa? Cum f'me, and I'll take care of you, I promise."

You clamp down on his fingers and moan into a kiss as you ride out your orgasm. It's intense: leg-shaking and leaves you shuddering in the aftermath. You were rusty, sure, hadn't had sex with someone in a while. But Miguel made you cum so hard you saw stars, with only his fingers. Your chest heaves with the thought.

You thought he would leave you, torn stockings and all, in the little cupboard. But he stays, to sink down to his knees and lap at your folds. You rest a hand on a shelf for purchase, head back in bliss. You cunt is still sensitive, throbbing at the orgasm he's just given you, as you licks you clean. He's taking care of you. You card your hands into his hair, tugging gently as he moans into your pussy.

He gives your clit a gentle kiss, and swipes up a trailing tear that rolls down your inner thigh. You watch as he pops his fingers into your mouth, cleaning off the cum. Your cum.

Miguel gives you a lazy grin in the bare bulb of the equipment closet. He seems completely unfazed by the fact his fingers were in you not a moment ago.

"Are you free after work?" He asks, and it takes a moment for you to process.

"Uhhh… s-sure. Probably?"

"Let me take you for dinner, somewhere nice."

All you can do is nod, dumbly, ripped stockings still around your ankles.

"And then I can fuck you properly, princesa."

#across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #smut #spiderman 2099 x reader #light angst #kat_writes😼#miguel o hara x reader #headcanon #miguel o'hara headcanons #jealousy

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whom-the-hell · 1 year

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Hello 👋 can do dating killua zoldyck hcs please 🙏 💙

Killua Zoldyck x gn!reader

A/n: Hey! I apologise if this took so long to write, I had some things going on! I hope you enjoy <3

P.S Killua is grown up in these hcs

Genre: fluff

Anime: Hunter x Hunter

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He is a stubborn little bastard, so he would wait until you would confess first. If you’re just as stubborn, he’d confess first through very obvious hints. He wouldn’t outright ask you though.

At the start of your relationship, Killua had a heard time opening up and getting use to all of the romanc-y stuff.

During the relationship he doesn’t change much, just a couple of soft kisses on the cheek and some affectionate head pats blossoming through.

Very jealous. And protective. One weird look from another person to you will make him go nuts.

That brings me to my next point, very intimidating. Maybe he’ll tower over the people he thinks are acting too creepy towards you and glares down at them, or maybe he’ll act a certain way to show his unsatisfaction.

Overall, very cool to hang out with, though, he sucks at planning dates.

His idea of a date would be just hanging outside together.

Very nosy! Very. Someone’s calling you, who? What do they want? Will you answer the call?

Goes all out with gifts, his love language is either gift giving or quality time. Either way, you’re being spoilt to death. If your love language is physical touch of words of affirmation, he’ll try and satisfy you as much as he can, but it might take a while for him to get used to it.

Killua has one of the weirdest pet names for you.

One of his favourite spots to hold you while walking down the street is by the hands.

While cuddling, he acts like he’s big spoon, but secretly enjoys being little spoon, he’s just too embarrassed to admit it.

He’s introverted, so he prefers to spend most of his time at home. Maybe you both watch movies and cuddle, or maybe you try to do something new together.

When he visits you, he buys tonnes of candy from a nearby shop and you guys rate them from 1-10.

He’s a very light sleeper, every single turn of yours might make him wake up. Sometimes you think that he isn’t even asleep.

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dungeonpuppykai · 9 months

Text

|| Balance ||

Summary: Your father had outdone his own selfishness when he had handed the train off to Curtis with no regard for you. But was it so bad, really?

Pairing: Dark!Curtis Everett | Cruel Brat!You.

Disclaimer: I (unfortunately) do not own Curtis Everett. This story contains dark and mature content so browse at your own discretion, please. Minors do not interact.

Warning(s): Non-con/Dub-con, dark-ish spoilt Princess reader becomes Curtis' bitch, gun play, spanking (with a belt), humiliation, degradation, pet names, fear kink, finger sucking, age gap (reader is 20's, Curtis is 40's), leash, objectification, sloppy blowjob turns rough, untrimmed lumberjack Curtis, hair pulling, boob play, mentions of complete submission, questionable shit that I am unapologetic for.

Note: This scenario has been living rent free in my head ever since I watched the movie. Fair warning, it is pretty dark. But then again, so is Curtis. Feedback is much appreciated 🩷

MASTERLIST

"I can smell you, dolly~" your heart hammered inside it's cage as you clasped your shaky lips to a halt, suppressing your laboured breathing as you peeked with one eye to see where the giant man was from your position behind one of the huge shelves in your father's cabin.

Curtis Everett took his sweet time investigating the space, searching for you calmly as he called out to you. His sweet coos caused the hair at the back of your nape to rise. He was covered in dust and blood, a gun carelessly hanging by his fingers. Your thighs quivered as you tried to breathe as quietly as you could, feeling a tinge between your legs.

The fear was messing with your body and the terror of what might happen to you once he did find you -which let's be honest, was inevitable since there was no where to run- caused all kinds of reactions within your body.

"Are you over… here?" A gasp threatened to slip past your trembling fingertips when he very effortlessly toppled over a chair dangerously close to you, chuckling to himself and tutting when your position continued to be a mystery. "You know I'll find you now or later, Princess…" Curtis was now passing right by you. "You're only making it worse for yourself by hiding, you know~" your shoulders relaxed a little when he lingered in front of you for a moment but when passed by. "If you come out now, I won't have to-" his terrifyingly convincing words had your body acting before it could stop itself.

The sound caused by you crawling out of your hiding space had the tall man spinning on his heels. A smile settled on his lips when he found you peeking up at him from your position on the ground.

"Already crawling for me?" His condescending words had you quickly scrambling to your feet as you whimpered in response to the proximity his quick walk towards you had caused between your bodies. "Aren't you just the most precious little doll?"

"Y- You said…" The desperation of your voice made you feel disgusted with yourself. You hated your father. A bile rose in your throat when you lowered your head in response to his sharp gaze fucking your body in the most humiliating way. He didn't even try to hide it. "You said you w- wouldn't hurt me if I didn't h- hide" these people were nothing. You had never cared what your father or the people of your section thought. To you, the lower sections were just filth to stomp on. They were nothing more than unfortunate degenerates that lived to serve you.

"I said I wouldn't have to do worse" the muscles in your thighs clenched when he caressed your cheek with the tip of the gun. And now because of your bastard father, you had no choice but to rely on the mercy of these lowlifes. "Hmm… so pampered and soft" Curtis sighed when he cupped your face with his other hand now, his coarse thumb tracing the shape of your lips before he pushed the digit inside.

You gagged in response to his dirty finger intruding you so intimately. He let out a heavy chuckle, taking it as an invitation to push it further in until he was knuckle deep, sighing to himself as he explored your warm and wet cavern. Your eyes filled with tears as the humiliation washed over you and overwhelmed your already overstimulated senses.

"Aw, you don't like this, Princess?" His taunt triggered a flashback where you had said the same exact thing while torturing someone from the tail section about a minor inconvenience while you made the others watch. "Too bad you don't have a choice, huh?" Your fists clenched as you suppressed the urge smack the smirk right off his disgusting face.

The thick hot tears finally trickled down your cheeks. His thumb made you gag again as it dipped down to your throat, the salty and metallic taste coating it making your mouth sting. Curtis refused to let you hide your face away so you could hide your tears and your arms were too lifeless for you to simply wipe them away.

"Hm, I wonder…" The gun now trailed down from your jaw to your neck, circling around the locket you always wore as your mother had left it to you before slowly trickling its way atop the valley of your breasts. "If Goddesses look the same as us lowlifes under their fancy little attires…" Your heart threatened to burst right out of your chest. More flashbacks followed as you winced now, having no choice but to unintentionally suck his thumb when you tried to breath. Your eyes shut themselves in embarrassment after a few more tears spilled.

You forced the tail section to hail and bow down to you every now and then merely for entertainment. You made them tell you you were their Goddess and the only one that should be worshipped. Those who tried to resist faced horrible consequences at the hands of your personal guards and servants. Your 'royalty' was the only thing your otherwise unavailable father had been good for. It was the only thing he had given you in your whole life. So you took to both using and misusing it in every way you could.

"Or are they really are different from the rest of us degenerates- tsk" he clicked his tongue before patting your cheek. "Come now, doll. Let me see those Godly eyes" a shiver trembled itself out of your body.

You had no choice.

Just how they hadn't.

Curtis felt a pang of excitement trickle down his spine when your now reddening eyes opened back up and you tried to look anywhere but at him.

"Hm… they seem pretty ordinary to me…" The comment was for your eyes as the gun intruded your neckline more and more with the passing second. "What about…" The man hooked the weapon under one of your breasts and pushed it up and out of the fabric covering them as he tilted his head, the humiliating concentration on his face making your cheeks burn as you whimpered against his thumb again, gagging when it started to massage your tongue.

The tingles in the spot between your legs in response to the whole experience increased all the while.

You dared not ponder over it, afraid of what horror laid in the reason behind it.

"Hm, you know what?" Curtis suddenly deprived you of all touch. Wait, are you wondering why you know his name? Have you forgotten already? You had asked him what it was before you made him kneel on all fours on the ground before using his back as a chair while you had the workers take the newborns under your father's orders. Why? You simply didn't care why. "I want it all off." He used the gun to gesture towards your clothes. "Because so far I haven't seen anything that makes you any more special than the people you loved to shit on" more tears spilled from your eyes.

Your usually loud mouth seemed to have forgotten all words today.

"Come on, Princess. I don't have all day…" His words were followed by his fingers undoing and freeing his belt before he held in a manner that looked threatening enough for you to let out a sob as you slowly shook your head before muttering out a plea. Curtis coldly chuckled. "Hm, adorable. Now, come on." You flinched when he tapped the side of your thigh with the belt he had doubled over in his hand.

"P- Please…"

"You wanna please me?" The only things he could remember was the hopelessness and humiliation she has wreaked upon the tail section all those years ever since she was a child. "Aw, doll. That is sweet of you." Another sob left her. The man was unfazed as he continued to caress the side of her leg with the belt, dark eyes running up and down her body.

"N- No, like… please… please…" He sighed as his eyes hardened.

"You really want to make this worse than it already is, huh?" The seriousness of his tone caused a tight little hot ball to form between her hips. "Little brats like you just can't help themselves, can they? No, they love to get in trouble. That's why they go out of their way to create it. So someone can come along and show them their real place, huh?" The knot of heat rolled further down your abdomen.

What was happening to you?

You went to speak but were cut off. "If these pretty little clothes don't come off by the count of three, I will take them off but in front of the entire tail section waiting to claw you to pretty little bits and pieces right outside this room…" Your breath hitched in your throat when the tip of the gun collected the sweat beads formed on one of your temples. "Would you like that, huh, doll?" Before he could even start the countdown, you hiccuped before a few sobs followed the quivering breaths and your numbing fingers reached for the zip and harnesses of your dress.

Without allowing yourself to ponder over it, you quickly rid yourself of the fancy fabrics, knowing that it was inevitable and the other way would be much more unpleasant than this. You had degraded these people in the worst ways possible for many years, if you still got to have some form of mercy, you were going to take it.

"The rest too, giddy up~" your wet cheeks burnt hotter as you averted your eyes to the floor, keeping them trained on the spot between his feet as you blinked the tears away and complied to his orders, depriving yourself of all dignity with your own hands. "Hmm…" Curtis seemed unbothered by your nudity. Like nothing was out of the ordinary and it was just a normal day.

As if this was the natural way of things.

"I don't anything special here" the pressure between your hips increased when he started to poke and prod at your hardened nipples with the tip of the gun before he circled you like a hungered animal does a piece of meat, continuing to press and caress random parts of your body. "Let's see…" Curtis sighed now. "Spread these pretty Princess legs, now. Maybe there's something special there that makes you feel obligated to act that high and mighty" you felt the belt penetrate the space between your legs.

You bit your lip as more and more flashbacks resurfaced, haunting and mocking. Your chest heaved for air the more you sobbed, bending forwards as your hands reached for your ass cheeks and you spread your legs before parting them for him to look at.

You were well familiar with the desperation in the eyes of the tail section lowlifes to know that if you didn't obey and maybe pleased him however he wanted, you would suffer the same fate as everyone from your side of the train.

And nothing was worse than dying.

… Right?

"Hmmm, nothing special here either" the male's tone was scalding as he spread your nether petals with the tip of the gun -that caused a new kind of rush and panic within your body every time it made contact with it- before he pulled the metal weapon away. "So you really are nothing special, after all…" Your eyes continued to watch his feet and how they appeared before disappearing for a few moments each time he completed a round around your naked and shaking body.

"If anything," a loud shriek ripped itself out of your throat when he suddenly landed the belt on your ass, the swat catching your hands holding them apart in the process. You quickly retreated them, causing him to scoff at your reaction as you held them to your chest, sobbing and blowing on them as you rubbed them to try and soothe the burn. Another lash was given to your sensitive and fragile skin that wasn't used to being handled roughly. But now a thick angry red line appeared across your lap. "You're worse." The next blow landed on your ass again, but this time your knees buckled up and you fell on your hands and knees.

"Because even though you could be ripped to shreds at any given moment upon my command, you're leaking like a desperate little breeding bitch all because I forced you to strip for me" you felt him place his dusty boot on your back before he pressed it down against you.

Fuck.

That was going to leave an imprint.

Your whipped thighs trembled and body jerked forwards when he landed his belt against your ass again. The only things you could register and process was your own crying, the humiliation his words were causing and the hot pain his merciless belt was inflicting upon your ass cheeks.

He just kept going, loving the welts and bruises that were forming on your formerly spotless skin.

"P- Please!" You forced yourself to plea out loud when he just wouldn't stop. "Please! I- It hurts! I am s- sorry! Please!" He just chuckled in response, pushing you against the ground harder and harder with each hit.

"Maybe your father knew this is exactly what you needed, huh? Someone to come along and beat some sense into that smooth brain of yours." Out of all the things he had said to you, this one stung the most. Perhaps more than the physical pain he was inflicting upon your ass. "He knew that you couldn't carry his legacy. Your little brain is too small for tasks like that, isn't it? Brats like you are only meant to be broken into submission and then made to serve" the hits finally halted. He removed his foot. Your seething ass cheeks were parted again but with his fingers this time.

Your body shook from how violent and loud your sobs had gotten. Curtis chuckled at something before you felt him get closer to your head. A thick and rough band snaked around your neck before you felt it getting tighter until it was wrapped and locked around your throat. You winced when you felt a tug at it. His belt.

"Look, doll." His thick beard scratched against your ear as he whispered right into it. "Your mess on the floor is confirmation" the bile in your throat felt tighter against the makeshift… leash. "Whether you want to admit it or not… you are loving this" you wanted to vomit. The taste of his thumb was still very strong on your tongue, the pungent scent of his body further aggravating your already distressed senses. "I knew it."

Curtis stood up to his full height and tugged at the belt, causing your neck to humiliatingly jerk in the direction of his pull. "Come on." He started to march you towards the chair your father always sat on. Your weak and sensitive knees burnt and screamed at you to stop. But the moment you'd falter, the leather wrapped around your throat would forcefully pull you forward, making you almost slide behind him.

"There we go~" the man took a seat on his throne -your father had treated the chair as no less- before he started to wrap the belt-leash around his big and rough hand until his blistered knuckles were touching the sweaty and cold skin of your neck. You almost retched when the tip of your nose grazed against his crotch since he had forced you right between his giant legs that he had spread open.

You tried to back up; break free. But there was no way to turn or move with how tightly he held the belt. You did your best to control your breathing and not lash at his face with your claws. He had a gun and an entire army of savages waiting outside.

For better or worse, he may be your only chance at surviving this in one piece.

"You look prettier than what I would imagine every night after the day you would visit the tail section" a shard of icy fear tore down the ligaments of your spine before spreading in all directions at the base. "Submission looks so good on you, doll." He leaned forward and you shuddered at the sensation of his breath hitting your mouth. So close. Your feet tickled. "You wanna be good for me, right?" The tears in your eyes refused to stop flowing. You hated them and yourself for being so weak. It was shameful to let others see you cry. But you were so helpless without your guards and servants.

Weak.

You had no choice but to take whatever he decided to give you.

The pressure between your hips worsened.

Whore.

"Nod and tell me yes" the heavy thumping of his fingers against your cheek brought you out of your head. A wince shook its way past your lips when your spanked ass touched the heels of your feet. The overwhelming pain caused you to jolt forwards, going nose first into Curtis' face and making him chuckle. "Aren't you the most eager and adorable little doll?" Your face burnt in humiliation as you tried to pull away again but in vain, he only further tightened his grip around your windpipe. You choked, his face hardened. "I told you to nod and tell me yes."

The realization of the power imbalance between you two drove shards of shame down your limbs as you lowered your head and whimpered. "Y- Yes…" Your words followed a humiliating nod.

"Yes what?"

"Uhmm… C- Curt-" a loud gasp elicited out of you when you felt a punishing smack deliver to the side of your head which lolled due to the impact. Your bottom lip trembled as you blinked the stars away before peeking up at him through your lashes.

"Sir. It's sir to you, dimwit" he smacked the back of your head again, but this time the pain was felt in the base of your stomach which soon morphed into a hot ball that flooded down your holes.

Curtis moved back and leaned his back against the chair lazily, lacing the fingers of his free hand through your hair before he trained his eyes on you from scanning the rest of your body before pulling at the strands roughly. You cried out and pouted, he silently cursed and pressed his legs against your arms.

"Come here and undo my pants" your eyes widened but the second tug at your scalp had you complying before you could think twice. "Hmmm…" As your shaky fingers fiddled with the fly, he continued to play with your hair. "Maybe I should cut all this pretty hair off. Mayhaps make you a cute little slutty cue ball…" Your heart leaped at his words. Oh God no. "Turn you into a clean little slate to paint and mould however I please… This is a fresh start, after all" his nails scratched against your scalp and you sobbed in the musky scent that wafted out from inside his pants. "Hmm… Now pull my cock out" you sighed in relief despite how horrifying his words were.

At least his attention wasn't on your poor hair anymore.

What kind of a twisted person can say something like that?

Sure, you playfully suggested for the tail section ladies to cut or buzz their hair sometimes but it was only because they didn't have the proper facilities to take care of it.

You gulped to yourself and felt your core throb when you went to pull his cock out and it just seemed to never end. Four pulls later, Curtis' brutally thick and monstrously large cock was standing angrily in front of your face, his pubic hair decorating the organ and his matching ballsack.

Fuck.

It was almost beautiful.

"Put those slut doll boobs around it" your breath hitched at his words but a firm tug at the hair on the top of your head had you obeying his order. Anything but your hair. Biting your lip, you lowered your eyes before gathering your breasts in your sweaty hands. But you stopped when he clicked his tongue and tutted. "Now, now. Why are you shying away, Princess? I thought you liked to look into people's eyes, hm?" You felt like kicking yourself.

He was tormenting you for the torture you had inflicted on him and his people for so many years.

"Look me in the eyes while you do it" this time the pull was at the leash. You gulped again before you slowly looked up at him, a whole new sense of shame wrapping itself around your body when you saw the smug expression on his face. "And tell me yes sir."

Your palms met with the base of your breasts again. "Y- Yes, sir." Before you slowly moved forward and tried to ignore the fear and disgust boiling in your loins.

"Smile and thank me for being so generous and merciful" your knees almost buckled up when he scratched right behind your ear with the hand that was laced through your hair.

Your body was just confused… right?

It was just scared and excited– panicked because of this sudden burst of stressful emotions.

Since you had never experienced any of this before and now were suddenly being subjected to so much all at the same time, it didn't know how to act.

Yes, that had to be it.

You slowly smiled, feeling his nether hairs tickle the skin of your breasts as you clamped them around his cock, shivering at the contact. His veins were so thick and hot against your skin. "T- Thank you so much for being so generous and merciful, s- sir." Curtis bit his lip.

"Fuck, doll. You're just a natural, aren't you?" His musky scent filled up your senses as you continued to smile, not knowing what else to do. The man suddenly spat on his cock, some of the splatter also falling on your breasts. You flinched and nearly broke away with a gasp but his grip on your throat and head both warned and restricted you against it. "Move. Up and down, come on. Move and take the tip in your mouth, like the little slutty Princess that you are."

You almost faltered. But the darkness in his eyes quickly reminded you of the situation and so you started to move, your bottom lip wobbling once more. Your belted thighs burnt from the movement and knees ached. But you knew better than to stop.

Your breathing became laboured the more you moved, the thick red tip of his cock brushing against your lips each time you went down. Curtis hissed and grunted, snarling out condescending praises while his hips rocked against your boobs. He demanded you to take him inside his mouth again. You complied, gagging at the strong salty taste of his warm cock once he was finally inside. Your jaw ached. Fuck, he was big.

"Such a perfect cum dumpster" his voice was turning hoarse and animalistic, fingers tightening around your hair and causing a dull ache in your scalp. The belt would restrict you of oxygen every now and then, his cock hitting the back of your throat and making you gag to probably reach the desired effect. Stars littered your vision each time the male decided to restrict you of air.

Some things ached, others burnt. But nothing hurt harder than your pussy. Your abdomen was in actual pain at this point, thighs clammy and bruising cheeks squelching due to the amount of the white matter seeping out of your hole.

"That's it… such a perfect cum rag. Made to serve her Master… right?" You nodded, trying to peek up at him as your hollowed cheeks made humiliating sounds. "Good fucking cum dumpster Princess" you had told them that the lower classes lived to serve their Masters. He was only throwing them back in your face.

Oh, how the tables had turned.

Eventually, the slow and sloppy blowjob turned into fast and rough face fucking. Curtis slapped your hands away before he parted your hair into two pigtails and wrapped them around both his hands at either side of your head for a firm grip. From that point on, your slowed brain could barely register anything. The only thing you could hear was your own moans and retching as your tits flew left and right, ass burning each time it would come in contact with your heels due to how violently he was bouncing your body up and down like a yoyo.

Your head bobbed up and down his fat cock, pre-cum and spit oozing out of your nose as you choked each time he would penetrate your throat a centimeter more. Your red face was coated in sweat and tears, fingers curled around his calves for support.

Curtis grunted as he thrusted in and out of your mouth, tipping his head back and nearly growling when he finally orgasmed, tightening his grip on your hair as he jerked his cock inside your throat fully and finally. While his length violated your hot cavern in the form of quick jabs, your throat stretched and jaw nearly dislocated from the girth of his ballsack penetrating -or trying to- your mouth.

The taste of his salty cum took over your sensory buds. Your eyelids became droopy and chest heaved due to the lack of oxygen, brain making you nearly pass out when Curtis finally released your hair and pulled out, cursing as he jacked the rest of his orgasm out and all over your face.

Your whole body shook as you collapsed against one of his thick thighs, landing on your cheek and letting your eyes flutter close against the bursts of his cum.

Ever since you could remember, you had been given all the power possible in the world you had opened your eyes in as compensation for an unavailable father and no mother. An only child with everyone bowing down to her with an authority she didn't understand, you had used it for everything you could. Necessities, entertainment, emotional needs and voids, it was all you had; all you knew.

You had never known balance nor restraint.

The concept has ironically existed all around you but never made itself acquainted with you.

So you rebelled. Assaulted. Violated. Misused. In the hopes that someone would step up. Teach you. Take the overwhelming amount of power away from you. Of course it wouldn't be easy. But it would put an end to this frustration, this loss of direction, nonexistence of purpose you had suffered your whole life.

As you slowly opened your eyes and peeked up at the man softly panting while watching you, softly scratching your aching scalp with his nails. You felt a strange kind of light dawn upon you. A new kind of hope and warmth washed over you. Your body curled against his.

Savior.

"... G- God…?" Curtis blinked before he registered what you had just said. A smile slowly pulled itself on his face.

A God is a savior, right? Someone who provides a direction and protects from follies like excessiveness and uselessness. A being who provides a sense of purpose. Helps exercise balance. Protects yet destroys. Batters but builds. Shatters and then mends. The mighty and all powerful; one who controls and regulates.

"Definitely yours." You softly sobbed and smiled, whispering out praises and thanks as you kissed everywhere you could reach him. Curtis slowly shook his head as he caressed your head, silently commending himself on how accurately he had read you.

You were exactly what he had thought.

Just a pathetic little brat with unbalanced power she didn't understand nor deserve.

434 notes · View notes

corruptedcaps · 7 months

Text

Cold Feet

Chad had always been a popular guy at school but when he started dating Madison, the head cheerleader, his status was elevated to that of a king. She was a mean, spoilt, brat who commanded a room just by entering it and it had started to rub off on Chad himself. He became captain of the football team, and led them to several championship victories but he had also become a cruel bully like Madison. He didn’t care of course, all that mattered was that as Madison approved and she showed him daily how much she liked her bad boy.

When Madison moved away though he was left with little potential prospects to fill her void. Even her bitchy friends weren’t enough. he felt his desire to be a bastard dwindle, his power wane. When the football team started to suffer he knew he needed to take matters into his own hands. If he couldn’t find a girl to suit his needs, he’d make one. All he needed was something of Madison’s.

Thankfully he still had an old jacket of Madison’s, a shiny black puffer coat, that she left behind. He loved her in that coat and in the weeks since she left had found himself jacking off to the lingering smell of her perfume still trapped in its threads. It gave him quick reminders of how to be as he thought about how it had clung tight to her athletic body.

Finding a spell online he enchanted the jacket. For a brief moment the jacket levitated as if someone was in it. The sleeve reached for Chad and then just as quick flopped back to the floor. Chad knew the jacket was ready, he just needed a girl to wear it. That’s where Emily came in.

Emily, the quiet, bookish girl in his English class, became his target. He knew she had the potential to be stunning, but her kind and introverted nature stood in stark contrast to the jacket's corruptive influence. That wouldn’t matter as the jacket would corrupt her ideals into a mirror of Madison’s while also improving her looks.

Emily had no friends to speak of and so was the perfect target. Most people didn’t even know she existed so her inevitable change would not seem out of the blue.

Determined to gain her trust, Chad started striking up conversations with Emily. At first she was apprehensive, unsure why any boy let alone the most handsome and popular guy in school would want to talk to her but over time they developed a real connection.

To his surprise Chad found himself falling for Emily. She was kind and sweet, everything Madison hadn’t been and yet he was attracted to her. It wasn’t the lustful urges he had for Madison but genuine love and affection. The football team continued to suffer but he started to see the team as trivial.

When they finally kissed for the first time Chad felt a joy like no other, he said, “Emily, there’s something about you that’s truly special. You’re so genuine and kind, and I feel like I can be myself around you.”

Emily blushed, her eyes flickering with surprise. “Thank you, Chad. That’s really sweet of you to say. I feel the same around you.”

As they spent more time together, their conversations deepened. Chad began to reveal more about himself, not as the popular guy, but as the person he truly was. Emily, in turn, shared her passions for literature and her dreams of becoming a writer.

As the weeks continued Chad found himself getting cold feet about whether he should go through with his plan. He realized that the magic of the jacket might not be worth sacrificing the authenticity of their burgeoning relationship. But there was a temptation still there and as long as the jacket existed it wouldn’t fade.

He finally made the decision to no only destroy the jacket but also leave the team. He loved Emily for who she was and was going to tell her as such. He had never told anyone he loved them, even Madison.

He had a romantic day for them planned. First they would head to the cinema where the way were playing one of Emily’s favourite movies. Then they would go for a meal at Emily’s favourite diner. Finally they would cap it off with a campfire by his family’s cabin where he would reveal the jacket to her. Together they would burn both Madison’s jacket and his letterman jacket, symbolizing the end of his wicked ways. That’s when he would declare his love for Emily.

Despite his nervousness he couldn’t help but tell Emily she was in for a special day, without revealing the specifics.

“Awh no fair! Tell me!” She said in faux frustration, endearing herself to him even more. However he held steadfast and simply led her to his car.

They cruised along the scenic route, the wind tousling Emily's hair as she laughed at Chad's stories. The sun shone brightly, casting a warm glow on their budding romance.

As they rolled into the parking garage and Emily saw the cinema in the distance she squealed with delight. The dimly lit theater provided the perfect atmosphere for a date and Emily was rapt by the movie and snuggled into Chad. Despite being engrossed in the film, Emily suddenly whispered to Chad, "I left my sweater in your car, and I'm getting really cold. Can you pass me the keys so I can grab it?"

Chad insisted on going but Emily told him he had done so much already and besides she had seen the movie a hundred times. Chad nodded and handed her the keys without a second thought.

As Emily walked into the dimly lit parking garage, she spotted Chad's car. Her breath formed a misty cloud in the chilly air as she approached it. The sweater was her primary goal, but once she opened the door she spotted something else in the backseat. The black puffer jacket glistened with an almost hypnotic sheen.

Curiosity got the better of her, and she reached for the jacket. As her fingers brushed against the fabric, a strange tingle coursed through her, sending a shiver down her spine. Her gaze lingered on it, and she couldn't deny that it did seem much warmer and cozier than her sweater.

With a hesitant decision, Emily decided to try it on. As she slipped her arms into the sleeves and zipped it up, she felt an odd sensation, like a gentle but insistent embrace. The jacket seemed to tighten around her body, molding itself to her contours as if it had a life of its own.

But as Emily continued to wear the black puffer jacket, she felt it begin to tighten to extremes. She felt it first around her waist. For a moment she panicked thinking it would constrict her breathing but somehow miraculously it didn’t, in fact it seemed to be warping her baby fat, moulding it into something different. Something better.

"What's happening? This jacket is, like, hugging me in all the right places," Emily drawled with a sudden bratty tone that felt good on her lips. Speaking of her lips, they plumped up to perfection, taking on a seductive, luscious quality. Crimson lipstick appeared with a pop that made her new smirk enchantingly captivating.

Her once pumpkin red hair began to change. It transformed into a luscious shade of blonde, shimmering like spun gold under the dim garage lights. It cascaded down her back in perfect waves, framing a face that was becoming more striking by the minute. As she examined her newly transformed blonde hair, she couldn't help but exclaim, “Mmmm, blonde. It looks soooo hawt on me! Oh god what am I saying? What is happening to me?”

Emily’s mind was fruitlessly trying to fight back against the pleasure feelings her body was going through. Each new change seemed to unlock a new colder, crueller part of her mind, locking away the parts of her that felt empathy and compassion in turn.

Her nails, once short and unadorned, grew longer and took on a matte white colour. They looked like they belonged on the cover of a fashion magazine rather than the fingers of a bookish girl. It garnered her approval. She admired them, saying, "Fierce nails for a fierce bitch!”

Her voice, once soft and modest, now dripped with arrogance as she continued, "I mean, who wouldn't want to look like this? I've never felt so powerful and beautiful in my life."

As the changes continued she found herself preoccupied with her own appearance and status, nurturing thoughts of self-importance and entitlement. The altruistic ideals that once guided her were supplanted by a relentless pursuit of self-glorification and a disdainful attitude towards anyone she perceived as beneath her.

Her posture underwent a dramatic change as well, becoming effortlessly poised and captivating. Emily's figure transformed, emphasizing every curve in a way that left no room for indifference. She had become a vision of beauty and allure, but beneath the surface, the jacket had also awakened something more sinister—a newfound cruelty and haughtiness that was as captivating as it was unsettling.

“Fuck I feel so nasty and hawt! Who wants to be some nobody dork when I could be a goddess! I want more!” She cackled giving in fully to the changes happening.

Last to change was also the most obvious enhancement as her boobs swelled up to fill up her top, turning it from a tee shirt to a tube top in the process. Emily remarked with overflowing conceit, "Perfect tits for the perfect woman.”

Her gaze shifted to her reflection in the car's wing mirror, and her voice oozed with self-admiration as she casually stated, "I look absolutely stunning. So this was the surprise Chad promised me today? Oh he needs to be rewarded for this."

Back at the cinema Chad was starting to worry. It had been nearly 20 minutes since Emily left. He was just about to get up to go check on her when, Emily, now the epitome of vanity and arrogance, walked confidently into the theater sat in the seat next to Chad. Her plump, glossy lips curled into a smug smile as she took her place beside him. Chad turned, looking puzzled, and said, “Sorry, my girlfriend is sitting there.”

Emily’s eyes, once soft and warm, now glinted with an air of superiority as she replied, “She certainly is.” Her tone dripped with flirtation, and she tossed her newly blonde hair casually over her shoulder, as if to flaunt her transformation.

Chad’s brows furrowed in confusion as he tried to make sense of the situation, but then it hit him. The jacket. Emily had found and worn the jacket and turned into a bitchy reflection of the girl she once was. Gone was the kind, introverted girl he had known, replaced by this haughty, self-assured stranger who seemed to revel in her newfound beauty.

“Oh my god Emily I-” he started before Emily cut him off with a long manicured finger to his lips.

“Shhhh baby you don’t hear to say anything. I know I spoiled your surprise and turned me into this bitchy queen sooner than expected but aren’t I just to die for now?” She said moving her hand down his strong chest.

“Emily this wasn’t what I-” he began but once again Emily stopped him.

“It must have been so boring for you to try and date my loser self, you were so patient with dorky Emily but now that Mila is here, we’re going to never have a dull moment. Starting now.” She purred as she reached his belt buckle and started opening it.

Chad couldn’t deny how hot she now was and he found his old lustful desires flood back to him. He loved how bitchy and confident she was. He couldn’t help but be incredibly erect when his cock sprung out of his pants, much to Mila’s glee.

With a hungry smirk, Mila leaned over and began to take his full cock in her mouth. Chad knew Emily had little sexual experience but the jacket seemed to have imbued her with the expertise of a pro. However he knew this was wrong, he needed to find a way to reverse what he had accidentally done but Mila was doing a good job of distracting him.

He tried to focus on Emily’s face, her smile, her laugh but found cruel thoughts about her enter his head. The carnal, animalistic part was telling him that Emily was ugly and pathetic that an alpha like him deserved Mila. He found himself slipping back into his old behaviour as he grabbed Mila’s hair and guided her head up and down.

“Oh fuck babe, you’re so nasty, you don’t know how much I wanted this!” He found himself grunting with wild arrogance as she sucked and stroked him perfectly, somehow she was even better than Madison. Each pump and suck felt like it was erasing the good person he had become over the past few weeks. He couldn’t have been happier.

With a satisfying jerk he came plentifully in Mila’s mouth, who continued to suck and now swallow until she knew she had taken all he had. With a satisfied smirk she lifted her head up and wiped a little bit of cum lingering on her perfect lips.

“Mmmm a little pent up were you babe?” She said teasing him as she licked her finger.

In the dimly lit theater, Chad couldn't resist the allure of his transformed girlfriend. Her confidence and newfound beauty had an irresistible pull on him, and he leaned closer, "you have no fucking idea… Mila. You’re even better than I could have hoped for."

Mila's smug grin widened, and she turned her enchanting gaze towards Chad, her eyes brimming with seductive power. "Oh, Chad," she purred, her voice dripping with bitchiness, "you have no idea what I'm capable of now."

As the movie played on, their flirtatious banter and shared evil ambitions solidified their connection. Chad was entranced by the seductive and commanding presence of Mila, and together, they plotted their rise to dominance, confident that their beauty, charm, and ambition would make them an unstoppable force to be reckoned with.

#f2f #corruption #bitchification #magic #evil bitch #corrupted clothing #evil couple #puffer jacket #corrupted couple

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themultifandomgal · 8 months

Text

Tommy Shelby- Granddaughter Pt3

Pt1

I walk to the pub James frequents at. Nervously I scan around and see James with his girlfriend on his lap. I take a deep breath and walk over to him

"Jame can we speak, alone"

"Look at this boys. Told ya she'd be back, look love I've moved on time for you to as well" he laughs

"Actually James I don't want you back, but you deserve to know something. Have a choice, so can we..?" I motion to an empty table. He moves his girlfriend off his lap and they walk to the table and both sit down

"So?"

"I erm... I had a baby"

"Ok and?"

"She's yours, her names Eloise" James laughs

"Yeah sure. You've probably been whoring round. That's what you Shelby's do isn't it. Your a bastard as well aren't you? Your dad fucked a whore got her pregnant, your aunt fucked your dads best mate and got pregnant. Lest she fucking married the man, but did you think you'd be any different?"

"She's yours, I haven't..." James interrupts me from speaking further

"Whatever YN. Tell your dad I'm not marrying you or accepting that bastard as mine" James stands up leaving me to try and stop the tears in my eyes. I get up from the seat and leave the pub as quickly as I can and go home.

I arrive to Grace rocking Eloise in her bassinet that's downstairs

"Grace?" YN cries

"YN what happened?" YN runs to her step mum and crying in her arms

"I told him and he doesn't want to know her. Said we were both bastards and I'm a whore. And now he's probably going to tell everyone that I have a daughter and I probably slept with loads of people"

"Like hell he will" I hear dads voice, not knowing he was in the room when I poured my heart out to Grace "I'll deal with him"

"No dad just leave it. This is my mess"

"YN he did this to you. He bragged about it. No one messes with the Shelby's you got that. I'll be back later" dad takes his peaky hat and coat leaving the house

"What will he do?"

"Probably just scare him. Won't do more than punch him. Now why don't you go and have a bath, relax and I'll keep an eye on Eloise"

"Ok" I wipe my tears. Lean down in the bassinet and place a kiss on my daughters head before going to have a bath.

Later on in the evening dad comes home. I'm sat on the sofa holding Eloise whose awake and content. I notice blood on dads shirt

"Dad what did you do?" I ask watching him take his cap off

"James won't say shit now"

"What does that mean dad. What did you do?" I ask

"Arthur, John, Finn and I had a little word with him. When he started spewing shit I had to make him realises I wasn't joking. He's fine, just a bloody nose"

"Dad you can't just punch every one I have a problem with"

"No?m, but when they are saying lies about my daughter and granddaughter I have to let them know that they don't mess with the fucking peaky blinders. He said he won't marry you, well I don't want you to marry him. He's not good enough for my little girl. Until you meet the right person and I approve of him I will be by your side and help you. Promise"

"Thanks dad" I say giving him a little smile

"I'm going to get changed and when I come back down I'd like to have a cuddle with my granddaughter if that's ok?"

"Of course it is dad"

"Told you your dad would come around" Grace says smiling "and you are going to be just fine. One day you'll meet a nice man and he won't care that you had a baby out of wedlock. He will love you both"

"I hope so" I sigh. Dad walks back downstairs in clean clothes and takes Eloise from my arms

"You might not have a father right now, but you are very loved and you'll be spoilt rotten. You mummy loves you so does granny Grace and gandpa Tommy"

"Please don't call me granny. Nan will do" Grace chuckles making me laugh.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x daughter!reader #tommy shelby

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the-desilittle-bird · 10 months

Note

Hello, I was just wondering if you would ever do a female Lucerys Velaryon fanfic?

AN- I don't know about a fanfic but here are a few headcanons for it...

Being Rhaenyra's Daughter and taking Aemond's eye...

Part 2

Warnings- Forced Marriage

GIF Credits to @veinereastath

Being Rhaenyra Targaryen and Harwin Strong's first daughter and Jacaerys little sister. Being their first daughter meant that you were loved and cared by them; spoilt rotten by your mother and learning sword from your biological father.

Growing up with the Greens meant that you had a love-hate mostly hate relation with Aemond Targaryen.

You would tease him about not having a dragon, also being a part of 'The Pink Dread' prank. Though you had felt bad later, you were proud enough not to apologize.

You were to inherit Driftmark after Laenor. Lord Corlys Velaryon and Princess Rhaenys had decided that your gender won't matter in the inheritance.

You were quite close to Helaena, having shared classes by the Septa with her. But that was until your family shifted to the Dragonstone.

The news of Harwin's death saddened you tremendously, and you and your family had to travel to Driftmark for Laena's funeral.

You had tried to console your father, who grieved the death of your aunt, his sister.

In Driftmark, you met Daemon, the Rogue Prince, and his daughters, Baela and Rhaena.

You striked a strong bond with both of thems in the short time. Cheering them up a bit and helping them come out of grief.

That night, you were with them when you heard Vhagar and went out to investigate with them and Jace.

There you saw Aemond.

A fight broke out and in self defense, you sliced the dagger through Aemond's left eye, damaging it for lifetime.

Alicent wanted your eye as a payment and in the order to do so herself, she injured Rhaenyra, which in return hurt Viserys who yelled at everyone to stop.

As a way of repayment, you were betrothed to Aemond. Viserys said that it would join the two fractions of House Targaryen.

"Prince Aemond is betrothed to marry Princess (Y/N) from this day forward and shall be married when they come of age. This shall unite our House for good. The House of the Dragon should always be united."

And so, you left Driftmark betrothed to the man you hated with your entire life.

Only to know that your father died.

And soon enough your mother married Daemon.

Fast forward to the time when you with your family arrive at King's Landing to discuss your position as the heir of Corlys Velaryon, who would inherit Driftmark when the right time arrives.

And you met your betrothed again.

Only to be slightly awestruck by his beautiful long hair and sharp features.

But you could see he was less than amused, taunting you instead.

"Betrothed! Came here with your dagger, have you?"

The entire trial, you could feel his gaze fleeting over you. He looked at you like he could read you as an open book, running his fingers over the words to learn a secret you could only guess upon.

Your grandsire proclaimed you the heir to Driftmark.

Vaemond called Rhaenyra a whore and you and your siblings a bastard; adding a line about you following your mother's footsteps. That ended with him getting his skull off in a very asymmetrical way, so that his tongue was kept intact.

"He can keep his tongue."

The predatory look in Aemond's eye had you shivering; hiding behind your mother while she squeezed your hand in reassurance.

That evening, you were forced to sit beside him, which made it tense for you; while his eye pierced her soul.

And a toast was made for Jace and Joffrey, which was very offensive.

And then, for you.

"To my betrothed who is a beautiful, young... strong woman."

You stood up and slapped him.

Jace and Rhaena handled Aegon in the meantime.

Aemond did push you back a bit.

And before you could claw his only eye out, Daemon interrupted.

"Go to your bed chambers," Rhaenyra ordered

The betrothed was called off after that night.

And you returned to Dragonstone happy.

Your mother had started coordinating with the North about a betrothal between you and Cregan Stark.

"Cregan Stark shall treat you just and honorably."

But the news of passing of your grandsire came.

And Rhaenys came with the news of Aegon usurping your mother's crown.

You were sent to the Storm's End on your insistence.

And guess who you found there...

Aemond Fucking 'One-Eyed' Targaryen

Lord Borris Baratheon acted like a twat and denied helping your mother's cause.

Aemond stepped forward just in time for your leave.

"Give me your eye or I will take it!"

"NO!"

"Then I will take something far more precious."

Lord Baratheon was kind enough to order you to leave.

But that stormy night, you arrived at Dragonstone

And only a week later, your mother was told that you were forcefully married to Aemond.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen headcanons #house of the dragon aemond #aemond one eye #house targaryen #hotd imagine #house of the dragon #aemond x fem!reader #aemond imagine #aemond fanfiction

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gingerbreadmonsters · 8 months

Text

captive audience

or: refreshments will be available during the interval!

gn!reader, standard vega content warnings, saturday morning fluffy stuff. i’ll buy you an ice cream if you sit still. a brief interlude for breakfast in bed - is this what slice-of-life is? the concept of a ‘psychic scream’ is borrowed from the lovely @starlitangels, who wrote an excellent fic with geordi and cutie all about it that i thoroughly recommend. warden having a lie-in in just over 3800 words.

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Good morning, darling.

It’s cold. Hm. Still tired. Why is it cold? That’s not right. Where did-

Did you miss me?

Oh. It’s Vega. Sulkily, you bury your face a little further into the pillow, eyes still pointedly shut and arms unfairly empty. So rude. He should know better than to leave you to wake up alone. What’s the point in having this nice bed if he’s not going to sleep in it with you?

Mmmm… You pretend to think about it for a moment, before grabbing the edge of the duvet and tucking yourself back in. That’s better. No. Sleepy.

Still sleepy? He sounds sweet, too sweet, and you don’t need to have your eyes open to see that look of false, mocking pity on his face. Poor thing.

(You’ll never admit it, but you… um…)

(Well. You do kind of like it when he does that condescending thing with his voice - you know, the one where he kind of talks down at you and he’s all fake-sad and indulgent and it’s a little bit patronising? It’s probably not meant to be as hot as it is.)

(God, you really are in deep, aren’t you?)

The mattress dips beside you as he sits down, one hand stroking gently over what little of your shoulder he can see. Just because it’s Saturday, it doesn’t mean you can spend the whole morning in bed, you know.

You huff. Someone kept me up late.

And someone kept asking me for more, he replies, more smugly than should be possible at whatever ungodly hour of the morning this is. Or were your desperate cries of my name unrelated, then?

Bastard. You don’t look up, but your hand moves under the duvet - a weak echo of psychokinesis thrums through the air, and you smile into the sheets at the soft thump of the pillow next to you smacking into the back of Vega’s head. Revenge is sweet.

Go ‘way. ‘M sleepy.

Oh, don’t be like that, darling, he says, lightly chastising, but you can hear the smile in his voice at your antics. Would breakfast make it up to you?

Hm. Only if it’s nice. Vega likes to share breakfast with you, but it doesn’t always taste so good. You’ve grown used to the bitterness over time, but it’s too much first thing in the morning - generally, you try and find something a bit less sour to start the day.

He leans down and kisses your horns, once on each side, before getting up from the bed. Anything for you, dear.

You feel his aura disappearing through the door and down the stairs, presumably to go and get something to eat. The sound of him moving around downstairs is strangely soothing, and you find yourself lightly dozing in the warmth as you wait for him to come back.

The blackout curtains keep the room dark, so you don’t have to worry about the light getting in as you nestle yourself nice and deep into the softness of the blankets. Mm, cosy. Soon, all that’s visible of you is the tips of your horns, peeking out from the duvet, and the shape of your tail flicking lazily back and forth underneath it.

You don’t quite fall asleep completely, drifting in the happy darkness with a small, sleepy smile on your face. Before long, you hear the door open, and the sound of something heavy being dragged along the floor. Amusement flickers in Vega’s aura when he spots you, curled up under the covers like a spoilt housecat, which you magnanimously choose to ignore.

Two light taps on your back through the duvet, like he’s knocking on a door. May I come in?

No. Warm.

Rude. He huffs, and you pull the edge of the duvet closer to you with your tail. He always lets the cold air in when he tries to join you. I’m more than happy to keep you warm, if that’s what you want.

Mm. You’re not dignifying that with a response. It’s a very nice offer, but he can’t get you that easily.

He doesn’t say anything for a minute, but through the duvet you hear the muffled sound of a chair being moved across the floor. There’s a sort of quiet thump, like something heavy being put down, and then the mattress dips again as Vega settles down next to your covered form.

Are you sure I can’t persuade you?

On the other side of the room, you’re suddenly aware of a faint stirring of consciousness. Not much, but something. Dim, fuzzy thoughts ripple against the web of magic that fills this room, this house, like a pebble dropped in water.

So that's why he sounds so pleased with himself. I brought you breakfast in bed, you know.

Now that he mentions it… oh, that does sound good. Tentatively, the tip of your tail nudges his side from under the duvet, and you can feel the smile spread across his face.

Be quick. S'cold.

You don't have to tell him twice. To a human eye, it would probably look like a blur, resolving into the lean shape of him sitting up against the headboard, under the covers next to you. He does a decent job of not letting the cold air in, while he does it - pleased, you deign to rest your sleepy head in his nice warm lap.

There’s my darling.

Deft fingers stroke along your horns, scritching lightly around the bases where they meet your skull, and you can’t help the satisfied purr that vibrates low in your chest as your whole body just melts. Soon, you’re just a heavy, happy puddle in Vega’s lap, settled safely in the dark comfort of your duvet, totally content.

His tail curls around to lay gently across your back, curving down over your side. In return, you drape your tail languidly across his legs, the spade at the tip resting on his ankle. It feels good - satisfying, like the feeling of a warm bath.

My sweet, he murmurs into your mind, low and soft and melting. So lovely.

A faint question bubbles through his aura, thrumming in time with yours - with a hum, you give a tiny nod. This is very nice, but you are starting to get hungry now.

He coos gently down at you as he peels back the covers, one hand slipping around your back to pull you up against him properly. At the same time, he knows that sitting up too quickly makes you dizzy - with a little bit of manoeuvring, you're soon settled comfortably against his body as he sits back again.

Enjoying yourself, my love?

Mm-hmm, you nod, lazy smile pressed against the line of his neck and enjoying the warmth of his arms around you. Was nice.

Good.

Wordlessly, he offers you a glass of apple juice with a straw, but you shake your head - he taps the side of the glass, and it turns to orange instead. That’s much better. Your tail sneaks out from under the blanket to take it from him, and you sip delicately at the sugary, delicious juice.

Weak, half-hearted struggling against the rope that binds him to the chair. From this angle, draped against his side with your head on his shoulder and his arm around your back, you have a wonderful view of the tied-up human sitting opposite the bed. Yum.

(He doesn’t tell you where he gets them from, and you don’t ask. You just wave your hand in the direction of the basement door, careful to avoid the soundproofing, and the bloody fingerprints he always leaves on the door handle disappear.)

Vega rests his head lightly on yours, careful not to accidentally impale himself on the sharp points of your horns. Would you like to start, or shall I?

You can go first, you say, gesturing to your unfinished drink. Gonna finish this first.

Turning his attention to the human at the end, you watch as Vega’s eyes narrow. Magic swirls around the man’s body, soaking through his skin, until he’s thrashing in the chair - blunt fingernails scrape at the sides of the seat and stifled growls tear from his throat as the human tries to break free of the bindings that hold him still.

He feels angry, vengeful glare aimed straight at Vega, and you can imagine the sort of memories that are being broadcast into his head right now. Replays of past sessions, perhaps, or maybe some from Vega’s personal collection - humans tend to get all self-righteous and cruel when he shows them memories of their predecessors. Before long, the familiar sadistic urges kick in, and the demon beside you sighs happily as he begins to eat.

You - mmm… His contentment bleeds into your aura as he swallows, greedy and grasping and totally delightful. Sure you don’t want any, darling? It’s delicious.

‘M sure. You’re saving yourself for something sweeter. For now, the secondhand satisfaction of feeling Vega eat, sating himself on this writhing prisoner at the foot of the bed, is a wonderful way to whet your appetite - if you had a real stomach inside your tummy, you’re sure it would be rumbling.

Your arms are curled around his shoulders to keep you close to him - idly, you fiddle with the collar of his shirt, before stroking your claws up over the nape of his neck and tangling your fingers loosely in his hair. It’s so soft, shiny and smooth as you run your fingers through it. He doesn’t say anything, head tipping ever so slightly back as he relaxes into your touch, and the warmth of his scalp is strangely comforting.

The two of you stay there in comfortable silence as Vega eats, broken only by the occasional hiss or snarl from his meal across the room. He takes his time, leisurely drinking in the sadistic energy that permeates the air, and you sip quietly at your glass of orange juice. Is this what humans mean by domestic bliss?

Mmm… Soon enough, he’s eaten his fill, the flat of his tail swishing contentedly back and forth over your tummy. Lovely.

The magic spearing the human in place dissipates, and he slumps heavy against the bindings of the chair. Ready yet, darling?

Nodding, you finish your juice with a final sluuuurp, looking up at Vega with a big, sticky smile. Ready.

Anything in particular?

You take a moment to think. What would you like for breakfast?

Umm… Something happy? Like the, uh… Oh, what's the name of it again? You've seen it in humans before, but it's not one of the usual ones they teach you at the Department. You know when they see something cute? And it’s so cute that it makes them go all weird?

I’ll try, he replies, though he sounds a little unsure. Weird how?

They sort of go a bit… violent? Like it’s so cute that they just want to cuddle it and crush it and kill it?

Oh, I know the one. Does it go like this?

Your empty glass fizzles away into nothing as he suddenly sweeps you up towards him, gathering you up tightly in his arms and kissing you all over your face. His claws twist in the back of your shirt, and his tail twines lightning-fast around and around with yours - in a flash, you're flat on your back against the pillows.

Wh- Vega! You laugh as he smothers you with kisses, flailing wildly in a half-hearted attempt to fend him off, but you don’t really mean it. You - no! - Vega, Vega, it tickles!

Is that so? he replies, smiling wickedly down at you as he easily pins your struggling form to the mattress. Vaguely, you feel your horns tearing through the fabric of a pillowcase, but neither of you really notice. I don't believe you…

He teases you with the promise of a real kiss, pressing his lips lightly to yours over and over, pulling away just before you can do anything - it’s torturous, not being allowed to kiss him the way you want to. Playing along, you melt back into the pillows, letting him think you’re giving in before-

Ha!

Determined, you twist up to throw your weight as hard as you can against his shoulder, knocking him back in surprise. He recoils and you’re able to quickly wrestle your way on top of him, climbing over him like a cat until you’re perched atop his hips, leaning forwards to grab his wrists and trap them either side of his head. Gotcha!

So you have, he says, and you watch appreciatively as he makes a show of resisting, arms flexing and muscles tensing with faux-struggle. Even though you both know how much stronger he is than you, you’ll still enjoy the view if he wants to show you. Consider me your prisoner, my little warden. Whatever shall I do?

Pretending to think, you tap your chin lightly with the tip of your tail. Maybe I’ll make you beg for mercy.

Oh, I’m always at your mercy, darling. He grins, fangs on full display, cruel and charming and ever so handsome. Didn’t you know?

The sweet spotlight of his attention, and it’s so, so bright. You throw your arms around his neck, abandoning the pretence, and kiss him properly - his hands fall to your waist in return, palms warm against your skin, and you sigh contentedly as his tongue runs gently across your bottom lip.

Love you.

Your claws catch in the sheets, pulling him up to you with your quiet admission. Eyes closed, you don’t know if he’s looking, but you feel it - the subtle sting of flattery, that turns quickly to a deep, aching fondness.

Closer, closer, your tail sneaking down to wrap around his. His horns click against yours, and it satisfies something deep and instinctive inside you. As I love you, my sweet.

Something faint bounces off your aura from behind - irritated, you can’t help but hiss at the interruption. What is that?

Ah.

He doesn’t stop kissing you, but you can feel that stupid smirk pulling at his lip as your tongue brushes over his fangs. I think your breakfast might be getting a little restless.

With a start, you remember - fuck, that human’s still here! Vega jolts back in surprise as you suddenly whip around to glare at the interloper, annoyed at by the interruption to what was shaping up to be a very nice kiss indeed. He’s clearly been watching you two, but he can’t hear your conversation - the chair he’s tied to wobbles as he startles in fear, recoiling from the sight of your bared fangs and eyes that must surely have turned black.

Now, now, my love, Vega murmurs into your mind, a faint spark of amused pride smothered beneath a thick layer of faux-gentility. It’s not nice to play with your food.

It’s not nice to get in my way, you grumble, wrinkling your nose in distaste. Stupid human.

Slowly, Vega’s tail curves around your middle, guiding you gently down to sit next to him against the headboard. Stupid or not, you need to eat.

He doesn’t sound like he’s going to budge on this - and anyway, you really are quite hungry now. You scowl at the human once more for good measure, relishing the terror in his face as your lip curls and your claws dig into the duvet, before giving in with a low huff.

What was it you wanted, darling? He wraps an arm around your shoulders to pull you into him, settling you comfortably with your back to his chest. Oh, yes. I remember.

You’re still not sure what exactly the one you asked for is called, but it’s clearly not an emotion this human is used to. Vega skewers him with a hard stare as the room grows thick with magic, fragments of borrowed memory jammed into the brain as he tries to stimulate the right flavour of feelings for you.

After about thirty seconds, he manages to get the feeling right - you feel it click, the slightly-hazy sensation of induced emotion. Go on, he says. There’s plenty.

Relaxing into Vega's chest, you reach out and start to eat. The taste isn't quite as clear as natural emotion normally is, a little blurry with magic, but it's still delicious. Hungrily, you gulp down the smooth, beautiful lightness, like sweet meringue and cream - the mixture of aggression and adoration makes it crispy and chewy all at once. You curl up in his lap as you eat, pleasantly warm, watching the tiny dust motes tumbling through the air and licking your lips after every bite.

After a little while he laughs, and you’re briefly confused until you notice what he’s laughing at - your tail, softly swaying from side to side behind you with satisfied contentment. Embarrassed, you smack him in the side with it, before pointedly turning your nose up at him and going back to your tasty breakfast.

When you’ve had enough, you flop back against Vega with a big smile, luxuriating in the lovely fullness of your tummy and the warmth of his body against yours. Yum. Thank you.

You’re welcome, darling, he replies, abandoning the stream of magic that’s been powering your meal in favour of cupping your face in both hands. Now, I believe we were interrupted…

Finally! He meets your smile with his own, kissing you hard and making your body go all hot and tingly from tip to tail. With the duvet tangled around your legs, the angle is a little funny, but your fizzy mind doesn't care. You slide your hands up his chest only slightly clumsily, over his shoulders and up into his hair, just as his tail starts to sneak under your shirt - and you’d let him, if you weren’t so annoyingly aware of the pair of curious eyes on your back.

What - mmm… You trail off as he starts to kiss down your jaw, eyelids fluttering as he nips teasingly at the soft spot just under your ear. What about the human?

He doesn’t respond out loud, but one hand flicks carelessly towards the end of the bed - there’s a sudden shimmer of cloaking magic, before an almighty thud! echoes through the house from downstairs. You jump out of reflex, startled, but Vega’s strong hands keep you just where you are, not letting you out of his grasp to turn around.

I’ll deal with him later. He kisses you again, deep and hungry, and it’s an excellent distraction. There’s something else I want to do first.

Something?

He shrugs mischievously at your raised eyebrow, eyes bright and wicked as they rake over your body. Someone.

Is it bad, the flattered feeling that you get whenever he just… says things like that? Even if it’s not, it’s almost enough to make you forget about the faint whimpering coming from the living room below you - it sounds like the human must have fallen, phased, through the floor of your bedroom and hit the carpet downstairs. Although it sounds like he won’t be going anywhere soon, you’d rather not take any chances. A little bit of telepathic magic should do the trick.

Closing your eyes, magic starts to build under your skin, before being channelled into the human downstairs. It washes around inside his skull, filling it up and up and up with more telepathic power than his human brain can handle. You’ve heard humans call it a ‘psychic scream’ for the way it tends to manifest in their heads as a painful migraine - it seems like a pretty accurate name, although you’ve always known it as ‘overloading’. Demons and humans often have quite a few names for very similar magical techniques, so it’s not surprising that it would be called something different here on Elegy.

(You’d asked Vega what he calls it, but he wasn’t very helpful. He just calls it effective.)

The scream builds and builds, approaching its peak, and you feel the human’s mind begin to collapse - just a little more, and he’ll be nicely unconscious. Carefully, you pour more and more magic into the human’s mind, gushing and splashing through his brain until-

-ahh!

Sharp fangs break your concentration, a sudden spike of pleasure igniting your body as Vega’s teeth dig into your neck - instinctively, all of that magic rushes out of you like a tsunami, ricocheting out at full strength in all directions. Your head spins as you feel the human downstairs lose consciousness, and with a dizzy wave of dread, you realise that half the houses on this street have gone the same way.

Vega! Half-panicked and half-embarrassed, you slap his shoulder hard with the flat of your tail. Now look what you’ve done!

He has the gall to laugh, the bastard, easily tugging you back into bed with one hand when you make to get out and check if you’ve accidentally knocked out the whole fucking street. God, this is a covert nightmare - what if someone reports it as suspicious? Oh, you’ll have to go and wake them up again - and the memory modification, you’ll have to make them forget - or maybe come up with a reason? A freak accident, or a gas leak or something - yes, a gas leak might be a good one, or should you-

You worry too much, my love.

Vega’s voice knocks you out of your thoughts, frustratingly calm as he envelopes you in a soothing haze of serenity that forces your racing mind to slow. Here. Let me.

His eyes close, magic surging in the room, and it’s so thick that you feel it on your skin like a lightning storm about to strike. Slowly, house by house, you feel the humans waking up again - no panic, no fear, just carrying on as they were before. You shake your head slightly in what might be disbelief, or perhaps resignation. Of course he can just fix it without even trying.

Once all of the humans - except, obviously, the one downstairs - are back on their feet, he drags you properly back under the covers. Better?

You nod, relieved, fidgeting around until you’re back to your prior, very comfortable position laying on top of him. Yeah.

Good. Vega’s tail curls smoothly around your ankle before slowly starting to drag up the inside of your calf. A silent question, and he can feel exactly what your answer is. Now then, where were we…?

At last, you’re properly alone. His head falls back in delight as you press a thank-you kiss to his cheek, one hand coming up to cup the back of your head as you slowly make your way lower and lower, and it’s a good thing you’ve already had your breakfast. Something tells you it’s going to be a very, very long morning in bed today.

this is an original work by @gingerbreadmonsters - please do not repost or misattribute

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#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redacted fluff #redacted vega #redacted warden #ginger writes #gingerbreadmonsters

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extremelyblackandwhite · 1 year

Note

please more chris and diane!!!!

pairing: bar owner destroyer!chris x reader

It had become something that calmed her down after work, going to see Chris at his bar. No matter how many times he said he didn’t want her there, he always had a pint of Coke waiting for her with a lemon slice and a cup full of ice. Just like every single Friday, she parked her car by the bikes, her hand pushing the door; yet, instead of hearing Chris mock her or call her Diane Chambers again, she found the bar was oddly quiet.

- Hey little bride. - Bill piped up. - How’s work? That case still giving you a headache? Need me to silence them?

- Bill, you can’t tell me you’ll commit murder for me. That way I can’t defend you in a court of law. - she sat next to him. - Where’s the half bald version of Sam Malone?

- Ah ... - Bill took a sip of his beer. - He’s wallowing in self pity in the back.

- And the bar is still open?

- Free beer, little bride. He can wallow in self pity as much as he’d like if that means I get as many pints as I can serve.

Y/N looked around, grabbing her bag and making her way towards the back. She’d never been to his office before, heck, she’d only been to the upstairs bedroom because he didn’t want her to “die near his bar”. Chris was a private person, he didn’t really like sharing much about himself. He’d never told Y/N what he did before he was a bar owner, he didn’t tell her how old he was, he didn’t tell her his last name and he definitely never invited her into the back. However, perhaps the last one was solely reserved for whenever a pretty lady walked into the bar. She’d witness it one too many times before when a woman, either lost or intent into going in the bar would struck a conversation with Chris and soon enough she’d be invited in the back. Y/N guessed she was not part of the elite group of women who go to go there. She knocked on the door but heard no answer or Chris’ familiar grunting so she opened the door to find him smoking, his boots atop his desk right next to a glass of whiskey on the rocks, just like the one he used to have at the end of the day.

- Bill said you were wallowing in self-pity. - she closed the door behind her. - Just came to warn if you don’t go outside, they’re gonna drink all the ale they can find.

- Couldn’t give a shit about that. - he replied but not like he usually did. No, he sounded crude. - What? Can’t find the tap for Coke?

- Came to check in on you since you’re apparently chain smoking and drinking yourself to death.

- Don’t be dramatic, Diane. - he put out the end of his cigarette against the ashtray before grabbing another one and lightening. - You want one?

- I don’t smoke. - she crossed her arms. He chuckled, letting out a cloud of smoke and a mumble of “of course not”. - Do you want to talk?

- My god, Diane, the last thing I need is you to pretend to be a shrink.

- You’re clearly acting like much more of an asshole than you usually do.

- Maybe I am an asshole, have you thought about that? - he replied as if her words had no effect on him and if he was being honest, today her words had little to no effect on him.

- God, I thought we were past this act of you pretending you hate me.

- I never pretended I hate you, I’ve always did hate you, you spoilt little princess.

- Really? I am the best thing that could’ve happened to you. At least I made the bar a bit brighter.

- Are you kidding me? You are the worse thing that has ever happened to me. Now I don’t know if you’re only sticking around here because you’re needy or horny since you escaped the lucky bastard that is your ex-fiancé, but I was the happiest man in the world before you stepped foot here.

- Does that make you feel better? Does it?

- Sure as hell beats having to actually be outside and pretend I give a fuck about what you have to say every Friday.

- You know what? Fuck you, Chris!

- Isn’t that what you came here to do?

She turned around and slammed the door behind her, making enough of a noise that the whole bar had turned to see what was happening. However, at this moment she couldn’t give more of a damn about how many people were looking at her. Instead, she just forcefully grabbed her bag and made her way out of the bar and into her car. New York had enough bars for her to content herself with.

(...)

Chris stared at the old clock he’d gotten when he first bought the place. The pointers kept moving, almost mocking him about how intent he was on knowing what time it was. 3:58, 2 minutes and how many seconds away from closing time. The only people in the bar were him and Bill who had happily been ranting about a new bike he was looking to buy and re-do.

- She’s not coming. - he said, drinking whatever was left of the beer in his glass.

- Don’t know who you’re talking about.

- Yes, you do. - he interrupted the bar owner before he could continue. - She hasn’t come back in two weeks.

- I couldn’t give any more fucks about where she is. Keeps my bar sane if she’s not around.

- Still think it was a dick move to unload on her like that. Kid was just trying to be nice.

- Last thing I need is a spoiled girl in my bar. - he cleaned the last glass, part of him still hoping she was gonna waltz in late like she used to do.

- You know what, Chris? It’s not her fault ‘ya ex-bride is popping out ‘ya best mate’s kid. Keep going with this bullshit and you’re gonna be alone.

- What is this? Protect Diane Chambers time? If you like her so much, then fuck her for all I care.

- You watch how you talk about her. - he got up. - Don’t wanna have any problems with me, son.

Honestly, Chris felt tempted to start a fight. Between Y/N throwing a fit over nothing and his ex being pregnant, maybe getting punched and throwing a few punches would make him feel better. However, this was Bill and starting a fight with him would either end up with Chris in the ER or in the cemetery. Both seemed like great options but he was tired and all he wanted to do now was go upstairs and watch whatever shitty TV show was on. He threw the Coke glass in the sink and went upstairs.

She didn’t come again for 4 weeks and he knew how ridiculous it was that he had started to count them, yet here he was now, 4 weeks in without a sight of her. Perhaps it was better she was not here on this particular Friday, the bar crowded with Bill’s old friends as he celebrated whatever birthday he was celebrating. Chris didn’t ask, it was not his business. He just stayed behind the bar, serving whatever it was they ordered.

- LITTLE BRIDE! - his attention finally turned towards the group as he saw her there. She had come back. - You came!

- Couldn’t miss your birthday, Bill. You know you’re my favourite.

- Sit. - he gathered room for her. - You want anything?

- No, I just came to wish you happy birthday and drop by a little gift. - she put a black bag on the table. - I have to get back to New York, have a business trip next week.

- A very busy lady, aren’t ‘ya?

- I keep busy. - she smiled. - I’ll see you around, Bill. Don’t get into too much trouble.

- Can’t promise anything.

How dare she? How dare she come into his bar after 4 weeks and not even direct a word to him? Heck, he’d let her sleep in one of the extra bedrooms upstairs and even if not, this was his bar and good manners dictated she said something, even if an annoyed “hi”. He threw the red rag he was using to clean the counter on the floor and went past the bar and outside, following her like a raged wolf.

- You gotta be fucking kidding me, Y/N.

- I don’t feel like engaging you in your petty little fights tonight, Chris. - she took her car keys from her bag.

- Oh really? You love to talk so much, actually, you never shut up but tonight you particularly chose to talk to everyone but me.

- I thought since you hate me so much, I’d save you the trouble of having to speak to me.

- Oh, real mature, Y/N. - he crossed his arms.

- Yes, real mature. I haven’t heard you apologise for being an absolute dickhead the last time we spoke. Actually, I’ve never heard you apologise for anything.

- What? You want me to apologise for hurting your feelings? Grow a backbone, Y/N.

- Maybe you should grow some manners. - she stepped towards him.

- You are the most fucking annoying person I have ever met.

- LIKEWISE!

The two stared at each other with fire in their eyes and before Chris or Y/N could think about what would be the correct thing to do in this situation, he had wrapped his arms around her waist pulling her in for a kiss. The two pulled apart, her eyes looking into his with a mix of shock, innocence and shyness.

- I have to go back to New York.

- You probably should.

- Yes, I should.

- Drive safe.

- I will.

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan/reader #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan/you #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan/y/n #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan au #au!sebastian stan #destroyer!chris #destroyer chris

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smallgodseries · 2 years

Photo

[image description: A stylized 50’s style illustration of a black cat with huge golden eyes sitting atop the world in a bubble-helmet. Teeny flying saucers float in the starry purple space background. Text reads, “133, Nightfall ~ The Small God of World Domination”]

• • • • •

We’re not sure what the cats were thinking when they domesticated humans. Oh, sure, primates are useful, with their clever little primate hands that can do useful primate things, like building warm houses to keep the rain out, and making factories to produce cat toys, and opening cans of tuna. Tuna. That alone justifies keeping at least half the species around.

The other half, though…cat-kickers. Dog-lovers. All-around bastards who don’t think anything of tying their own children in a sack and throwing them in the river, much less ours. So why do we have them? Couldn’t our ancestors have done a better job of cultivating their servant species? You’d think they would have tried harder to make a better future for us. You’d think they would have cared.

At least our gods are amazing. Perfect in every conceivable way, really. Sleek of fur and swift of claw and sharp and bright of eye. They’ll stalk and kill the gods of the lesser, until the heavens belong entirely to them. The hells, too. Anything you can imagine, they’ll have it for their own, and they’ll share it with us, for we have been faithful, for we are forever beloved.

And the greatest of them all is Nightfall, in whose shining green eyes is reflected the future, in whose sleek black sides we can see our absolute dominion over all. She will guide us to the promised land of catnip and chicken, where every lap is open and every hand is kind.

Oh, oh, you dear sweet kitten. We told you she was the small god of world domination.

We never said that it was going to be this one.

Let the poor, half-domesticated humans keep the world they’ve spoilt. We’ll have a better one for our own, and we’ll never look back again.

Meow.

• • • • •

Join Lee Moyer (Icon) and Seanan McGuire (Story) Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for a guide to the many small deities who manage our modern world:

Tumblr: https://smallgodseries.tumblr.com

Twitter: https://twitter.com/smallgodseries

Instagram: https://instagram.com/smallgodseries/

Homepage: http://smallgodseries.com

#Small Gods #smallgodseries #Seanan McGuire #Lee Moyer #icons and stories

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writingsofwesteros · 10 months

Note

the dark green brother niece was always being spoilt by the greens even alicent spoilt her, the niece may be a bastard but alicent can tell how much her sons are obsessed in love with their niece, always wearing matching dresses with alicent when she isn’t wearing green, having a matching ring with a bug figure on it with helaena.

ADORABLE !!

I love the little jewel matching with Helaena; bless. Alicent's softer blues coming back if only incorporated with the green

#caught between the greens

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pacifymebby · 9 months

Text

t r o u b l e / chapter sixteen

Sonya

I followed Bonnie away from the camp quietly, keeping my head down to hide my selfconcious blush. I wondered how many of his family knew who I was, beyond my being Tommys little sister. I wondered what they thought of me, whether they were laughing at me now. The prima ballerina, spoilt rotten all her life, reduced to this, held captive by her brother, having to go back to the roots she'd tried so desperately to escape, hiding in a vardo for a little peace and quiet.

I didn't want anyone to see my red eyes, the tear stains on my cheeks or the sorry look I couldn't wipe off my face. I knew what they'd think if they saw me. They'd think I was getting everything I deserved, that it served me right for thinking I was better than them, for thinking I could social climb above my station, join the royal ballet instead of learning how to skin a rabbit.

But as we walked further away from the little settlement I began to relax a little knowing there were no longer prying eyes trained on my every move.

I slowed down, let my arms fall down to my sides so that the long grass could brush my hands and tickle my arms. I didn't noticed Bonnie turning to check on me every now and then because I had my head to the sky and the trees above us. There were clouds in the sky but it wasn't gloomy, a muted afternoon with just enough of a breeze to shiver the trees, the pale sun shimmering through the gentle sway of the branches.

There were little birds taking turns to fly back and forth between a hedgerow and the trees and I watched them curiously.

"They're wrens," said Bonnie turning around to face me with his hands in his pockets, nodding to the tree when I looked at him a little surprised. He hadn't spoken to me since we'd left the camp and I'd grown used to the thick quiet between us. "Well actually," he said coming to stand by my side, stooping a little so that his gaze lined up with mine as he squinted up at the tree which had caught my eye. It wasn't really a tree see, it was a climber kind of ivy which had grown so tall against the side of the old barn, grown so thick and green that it looked like a tree until you really concentrated. "Those are wrens," he said pointing to the dry stone wall which was crumbling by the barn doors, "those," he said returning his attention to the climber, "will be house sparrows... Noisy bastards," he grinned.

"They always sing like this?" I asked a little stunned, it was a cacophony really, it sounded less like a song and more like laughter and when Bonnie saw my wide eyes he joined them with a childish chuckle of his own.

"More like chattering really, me mam always used to say House Sparrows are gossips, never trust em with a secret..." he said beginning to walk backwards down the path, still smiling at me.

"Who, who can you trust with a secret?" I asked my cheeks prickling with embarrassment because it felt like a stupid question. The kind a little girl would ask, not the kind I should ask. Bonnie just shrugged his shoulders and nodded for me to follow him.

"I don't know," he smirked, his fingers dancing over the collar of his shirt, resting over a st christopher which hung around his neck, "god a s'pose..." he said only serious for a second before he cracked a grin and shot you a wink, "C'mon lass i fancy a swim.."

"What if they're looking for me, that's the first place Tommy will look for me..." i said a twist of discomfort in my stomach.

"Then he'll have already looked there won't he," he said still smiling as he reached for sleeve and gently tugged me along, "the water might do you good to eh, wash away that frown," he said with a teasing glint in his eyes which left me smiling shyly at my feet, letting him lead me along the path which followed the perimeter of the manor grounds and would apparently, eventually lead us back to the lake.

It was midafternoon when we reached the wilding grass at the edge of the estate. The sun was warm enough that I didn't feel the cold even when I slipped out of my pale pink ballet sweater and placed it down on the roots of a particularly old and gnarled tree.

I watched Bonnie shrug his tshirt over his head, his lean torso rippling, showing only for a second the strength he concealed in his lithe frame. I didn't realise I was starring until I felt his eyes on me. He was starring too but it didn't stop the blush staining my cheeks crimson.

"Whatre you starrin at now lass, no house sparrows nesting here..." he grinned, his voice quieter, a knowing, smirking tone to it which got under my skin and left my mouth opening and closing, flustered, desperate to think of something clever to say. All I could do however was to blurt out his hypocrisy, my shrill tone only furthering my humiliation.

"You're starring at me too!"

"Oh," he chuckled, "so it is me you're lookin at, I thought for a second maybe Ryan Gosling was stood behind me..." he said his fingers dancing over his belt buckle as he shimmied out of his black jeans and left them in a heap beside his top.

I didn't know what to say then, I could only laugh nervously as I undid the tie on my little wrap skirt and let the flimsy material fall with a flutter to the grass.

Bonnie was still watching me, his eyes following the silky material as it shimmered and drifted ethereal to my feet, but when I hesitated with the waistband of my tights he turned away sharply, diving into the lake without another word. The water splashed me as it split for him and swallowed him whole, the cool droplets stunning me and snapping me out of my own daze.

It took him a moment to surface, an erruption of bubbles preceding the ripples of his reappearance.

"Hurry up lass the waters lovely," he called holding his hand to his eyes to shield them from the sun. He was looking straight at me but I wasn't really sure how much of me he could see with the sun directly behind me, gleaming bright. I could only hope that I was, for the most part in shadow. That he wouldn't be able to see the bruises on my legs from taking one too many tumbles at rehearsals. That he wouldn't be able to see the wretched state of me feet after weeks of endless point exercises.

I'd lost both nails on my big toes and my left foot was bruised all along the arch. Usually people who saw them were horrified and I tried my best to keep my injuries hidden at all costs. It ruined the "fae" like enchantment I was supposed to cast on all who saw me with my delicate grace. It reminded them the sacrifices that were made for perfection.

So as I stood there on the edge of the lake I felt hesitant again. I paused, arms wrapping around my waist protectively. My ribs were scattered with bruises too and I had an old greeny grey ink spill of a bruise spread across my shoulder too.

Now that I was stood before him in only my underwear I was concious he might see me. Might be disgusted at the sight of me...

"Close your eyes Mr Gold, my brother will kill you if he catches you looking at me..." I said trying to laugh, trying to pretend I was only joking. Scared he wouldn't take me seriously.

"Aye alright alright," he grinned covering his eyes with his hands and beginning to count down from ten, "but if you ain't in this water when I hit 0 I'm gonna get out an push ye..."

And when I hesitated he carried on counting, listening for my movement on the bank, his countdown getting quicker when still I didn't move.

"Six... Five..."

"Wait... Is it cold?"

"Four Three, I ain't kiddin on with ye Sonya!"

I felt a flurry of nerves errupt inside of me, escaping as a laugh as I squeezed my eyes shut, hands over my eyes, feeling suddenly as a little girl again, fearful of my big brothers threatening to "get me."

"Two..." he said, his cheeky smile flexing, dimple popping in his cheek.

And just as he hit one and sprang to snatch at my ankles, had I jumped in, flying over his head far less gracefully than I'd have liked, landing with a splash behind him. Water sprayed through the air and the sound ricocheted off the trees, the squeal which had escaped me when I'd jumped disturbing the birds in the trees sending them flying and chattering, cawcawing through the once peaceful afternoon.

I resurfaced to Bonnie laughing, rubbing lake water from his eyes, his skin beaded with the droplets from my splash.

"That was one hell of a jump lass," he grinned, "whats the matter did ye get yourself all in a panic eh?"

"It was your fault," I giggled rubbing the water from my own eyes, pushing my blonde fringe from out of my eyes, "you an all your threats!"

"So I scared you did I?" he grinned swimming closer to me, "thought I was gonna snatch ye up did ye?" he was smiling one of those mischievous teenage kind of smiles, the ones lads never really grow out of, ones they still wear when theyre 50 and thinking up old tricks they can play on their kids and their wife... The kind of smile which promises trouble.

"Stay back Bonnie Gold... Don't you dare..."

"What?" he asked, cheeky grin, playing at innocence with a little frown, "what I'm not gonna do anything?"

"I know what you're thinkin, don't you dare..." I said kicking my legs to push myself back through the water away from him, eyes locked with his all the while. I couldn't tear my gaze from his, even if I'd wanted to I couldn't. I couldn't wipe the smile off my lips either.

"Nah," he said shaking his head, his smile softening then, "nah don't worry lass I ain't gonna do anything I promise..." he said pushing his wet curls from out of his eyes, averting his gaze down to the water then over his shoulder to the bank where our clothes remained. "Honestly Sonya, I ain't gonna do anythin," he said again, his voice lower and more serious then so that as I eyea him suspiciously studying him carefully, i could discern that he was in fact telling me the truth. "Here you swim for a bit," he said kicking and pushing himself back to the side of the lake where he leant on the grassy verge, head resting in his arms before he tensed himself and pushing himself out.

I watched the water fall from him, trickling fast like a river flowing down his back to reveal the musles in his arms and shoulders. I was still starring when he lay back on the grass, propping himself up on his elbows. Watching me quietly.

"Wait..." I frowned, "you're the one who said you wanted to swim," I said confusion flooding my crinkled features. His eyes flickered over me, took in the sight of me starring at him like that, and when his lips twitched with a smirk he shrugged his shoulders in response.

"I guess I changed my mind," he said leaning back against the tree trunk and closing his eyes.

"Aren't you supposed to be my bodyguard... How are you gonna keep me safe napping under a tree like frodo fuckin baggins?" I asked with a cheeky grin, one which Bonnie didn't even open his eyes to see.

"Am not sleepin lass, I'm listenin... Go on enjoy your swim," he said gesturing vaguely with his hand in the direction of me and the water I was floating in.

So I did as he said, glancing back at him every now and then to see what he was doing. Trying to work out what he meant by "listening." Whatever he meant he didn't keep it up for very long because the next time I looked back he was sitting on the bank with his jeans rolled up to his knees, his shins in the water, legs kicking idly, leaning on one hand in the grass behind his back, the other holding a handful of berries he was eating slowly.

When I swam over to see what he was eating he seemed ever so tranquil, his shirtless chest rising and falling slowly, his eyes dark but warm and calm as he looked down at me.

"Want a blackberry?" he asked opening his palm.

"Um.."

"They're good ones I promise, just about ripe not bitter like some of em are if you get em too early..."

"Thank you," I said leaning on the bank, pinching one between my finger and thumb carefully, hesitating to pop it into my mouth.

It was just a blackberry. I frowned as I repeated the thought a few more times, growing concious of Bonnies eyes on me, knowing he'd be waiting for me to try it. Knowing it didn't usually take people so long to make such a trivial decision.

He was right, it was a good berry, sweet and juicy, when it burst between my teeth the tang was tart on my tongue and I smiled a blackberry juice smile up at him.

"That was actually really good," I said, "really good."

"Aye well Ive got an eye for tellin the ripe ones I guess," he said offering me another, frowning when I shook my head. "Can't be that good then can it lass..." he said the wounded look only a joke which didn't linger in his eyes long before it was replaced with a smile.

I licked my lips and ran my tongue over my teeth behind my closed mouth, watching him for a second, wondering if he was waiting for me to come up with an excuse. When he stopped looking down at me and started looking up at the sky instead I changed my mind and returned to the water to swim around the lake once more.

I swam until I felt tired, that hungry kind of lethargy seeping into my muscles from somewhere behind my eyes. When I returned to the bank Bonnie had gone and I felt my stomach drop, a little fear prickling my skin as I pushed myself out of the water quietly.

The afternoon had tired too and the sunlight through the trees was a dappled sunset shade of orange. Still just about warm but not really warm enough. I shivered, wrapping my arms around myself, looking for my clothes but they were gone too.

I stood there for a second, confused before I got scared.

I didn't get scared until I heard a twig snap in the long grass. Until I heard movement I couldn't decipher.

I tried to reason with my anxiety, tried to tell myself it was most likely just Bonnie, but something in my heart said otherwise. Something told me I needed to be careful. That I ought to lower myself quietly to the ground and attempt to remain concealed from view.

My ears burnt as I strained to hear through the ambient sound, tried to listen past the breeze shivering the leaves to hear if I could hear anymore signs of movement. There was a shuffling sound, feet crunching dry grass. I caught my breath, bit down on the tip of my tongue to focus myself, it was the same same technique i used in school, create a sensation to draw my attention to to distract myself from the stressors I was trying to ignore.

I reached the gnarled hornbeam and backed up against the bark, pressing my body between the protruding roots, shutting my eyes fearfully, trying to do as Bonnie had done earlier and "listen."

But when the footsteps stopped I recognised the voice which accompanied them and when I opened my eyes it was with a wince of self conciousness that I looked up at Bonnie who was crouching down in front of me with a little frown pinching his brow.

"Are y' alright lass you look a bit pale..." he said touching the back of his hand to my forehead, smirking when I blinked back at him speechless. "You cold or somet you've got the shivers..." he said standing up and stretching one arm up above his head. For a second I was confused about what he was doing, how he tilted his head up, bent his back over just slightly. But then he snatched up above him and pulled his polo shirt down, handing it to me. When I looked up I realised he'd hung all of our clothes up in the branches, they must have gotten wet when I'd splashed.

"Where were you? I got out the lake and you weren't here..."

"Didn't go anywhere," he shrugged, "was only behind this tree lass, built us a fire so y'wouldnt catch cold when you got out..."

"Oh..." I said with a nervous laugh, trying to hide my relief. Not wanting him to realise how scared Id been.

"You really thought I'd just left yas out here alone?" he frowned then, his knitted brow caught between amusement and dissapointment so that I felt guilty when I shook my head and tried to convince us both that no, I hadn't really thought that at all.

"I don't know I thought something might have happened to you... You weren't here.."

"Aye well, nothin happened to me so get that worried look off your face eh miss," he said his cheeky smile returning as he disappeared behind the tree calling out to me a moment later when I didn't follow. "C'mon lass you'll be warmer by the fire, the Opera house won't want you back if you've got a rotten cold..."

"The Opera house won't want me back now anyway..." I said with a sad smirk as I sat down in the grass playing nervously with my fingers. I could feel Bonnie's eyes on me and I tugged the hem of his polo top down over my thighs gathering the excess material in my lap to hide my underwear. Going for a swim had felt like a good idea at the time but now I was sitting so close to him with only his borrowed shirt to keep my modesty in tact I was beginning to feel a little selfconcious again.

"Tommy said he was gonna sort that," he said gently as if he knew I wouldn't believe him either.

"Tommy forgets there are some people he doesn't own..." I said chewing my cheek, "he thinks just cause he's blackmailed a few politicans and oligarchs he's going to be able to do the same to the director? It ain't happening trust me,"

"Aren't you supposed to be the most promising starlet in Europe?" he asked leaning back against the Hornbeam trunk with both hands behind his head, smiling cheeky and pleased with himself when I blushed and shook my head. He was quoting the last article published about me, letting me know just how much he knew about me. It piqued my defenses, got just enough under my skin that I felt my jaw tense, a stinging feeling in my mouth as my body threatened me with more tears.

This time I was determined to hold them back, determined he wasn't going to watch me fall apart over something that had started as a teasing joke about staying warm.

"I was," I said curtly, surprising myself with the harshness of my tone, "last week... Things have a way of changing too quickly for me to catch up with..." i trailed off, a lumo in my throat. My heart beginning to race as my emotions got the better of me and I began to grow stiff with upset.

"Nah," he shook his head, "sorry lass I don't believe y" he obviously didn't realise the delicste line he was treading, obviously didn't realise that he was pushing all of my buttons and none of them good.

"Doesn't really matter if you do or not does it," I shrugged, "you're not the ballet director... You're just a bodyguard."

I stood up, in a hurry to take his tshirt off and retrieve my own things from the higher branches of the tree. I must have looked ridiculous, I felt humiliatingly so as I stretched my arm out above my head and did a little jump to snatch at my skirt.

Bonnie stood too, his own face the picture of confusion as he came up beside me and took my sweater down from the tree.

"Whatre you doin lass these are still soaked..."

"I'm going to my room," I said sharply, my cold streak shocking him, making him flinch away slightly. He almost looked wounded himself.

"Aye but you don't wanna be putting y'wet clothes back on you'll make y'self ill!"

"Thats an old wives tale Bonnie," I sighed impatiently, "even you should know that..." I said snatched my tights from his hand, scrunching them up in my fist and storming away.

I was hoping the door to the passage would be open because if it wasn't Tommys estste was very big and I was very lost. I could hear Bonnie scrambling behind me, throwing water on the fire, pulling his top over his head as he jogged to catch up with me. I knew that if the door was locked I'd have no choice but to turn back to him.

"Sonya," he called after me, "whats the matter, whatre you doin?"

"I told you already Bonnie, I'm going to my room... Thanks for trying to help but it didn't work... I don't want to see anyone right now..." I carried on skirting around the real reason even when he was diligently shadowing me through the passage which lead back to the manor. Even when I'd tried to close the door on him and he'd stopped it with his foot.

"Sorry lass, I might be "just a bodyguard," but I'd like to do a half decent job if y'dont mind... Don't really want to find out what happens if I fuck it up y'know..." He'd said still with that cheeky smile, one which had bought me so much confort earlier but was completely infuriating now... One which was naive and bissfully unaware that when we got back to the house we would both see how Tommy was taking exactly that...

Someone fucking up.

#peaky blinders imagines #Trouble #Peaky blinders x oc #tommy shelby sister!

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star2fishmeg · 2 years

Note

I need arata fics so bad you don't even know if you catch sight of that blonde bastard tell him i'm after him 👁‍🗨👁‍🗨

ʜᴏᴍᴇ

Pairing: Arata Maekawa x f!reader

Summary: she looked lonely and tired, he was lonely and tired. Just two lost souls confiding in each other, sharing unexpected comfort

Warnings: strangers to lovers, swearing, fluff, mentions of injury and blood

Authors Note: yyyoonks it's finally out!

Request: above - thank you so much for requesting! My inbox has cobwebs

Quite frankly Arata had had enough. His eye was bruised, lip cracked and sore, dried blood from his nose flaking off everytime he sniffed. He just wanted to wake up and hope it was a dream. Sadly it was not. It was part of his routine now since carnage fell; sell Redrum, relay the money, get paid little or get his arse kicked, go home...wherever that was.

He aimlessly wandered through a local park, on a nicer side of the city where it could be argued a lot safer to be alone at night. He usually found himself here after a long day, cleansing his mind - and nose - from the rumble and sewage stench of the Murder Tower. What he hadn't expected when arriving at his favourite a spot, which was a little patch of grass through a few willow trees, was a girl around his age, knuckles purple with a black eye just laying on her back staring up into the sky. She looked peaceful, but in pain, he could tell from her watery eyes.

"Take a picture it'll last longer, Blondie." She broke the silence, her voice hoarse. Arata hesitantly walked closer, eventually standing over her. He licked his lips and stiffly sat next to her, eventually flopping onto his back and copying her position. The sky her eyes were so fixed on was blank, just a few stars here and there but nothing remotely interesting enough. But it was serene either way.

"What happened to you?" He asked, turning his head to face her. She didn't reciprocate, just sighed heavily and slowly blinked, chest feeling as if she were crushed under breeze blocks. How did she get there, what an interesting question she didn't entirely know the answer to.

"Got jumped. They were a lot bigger and stronger than me. Probably because I was alone in the dark. I must've deemed too much of a hassle considering they roughed me up and just left me here. Could've been worse, I guess." She confessed quietly, attempting to flex her bruised knuckles, "What about you?"

"Got beaten up. Didn't sell enough Redrum and...yeah." He probably shouldn't have said that, but she brought a comforting aura. Though, y/n didn't question it, she listened the same way he had with her. Eventually, she turned her head to face him, locking eyes. "I'm Arata Maekawa. Do you...live around here?"

She gently nodded, "l/n y/n, and I do. You don't look like you're from around here, and frankly I see you wandering this park now and then so I assume you've got nowhere really to go."

"And? What's it to you?" Arata sat up, eyebrows knitted with a defensive venom in his tone.

"I was gonna ask if you wanted to be my roommate since mine just left but if you're gonna get pissy with me then fuck off." Calm. She was still calm, or was it defeat. Her head lulled to look back up blankly at the sky, watching him contemplate from the corner of her eye. He was rather pretty with gorgeous curls and large eyes that had a shine to them in the moonlight.

"Sorry...let's uh...go home then." Arata pulled himself off the grass, holding his rough hand out to her and heaving her up into his chest, slinging his arm over her shoulder to stabilise her walking.

♡

Arata couldn't deny how spoilt he felt upon entering her hallway. The apartment was fairly open plan with a kitchen and living room taking up most the space. It was the opposite of what he was used to. White walls and grey furniture with various decorations that gave the place a personality. He took long looks at the photos framed on the walls, many included y/n smiling with friends (his favourite being a photo stuck on the fridge, it was kind of blurry but it radiated this sense of euphoria between friends on a holiday). He refused to sit on her sofa, feeling guilty that he wasn't exactly clean enough for such a plush surface.

"It's okay, you can sit down, this is your home too now. I'll make some food-" Y/n smiled at him, taking his sleeve and leading him through to the kitchen.

"Y/n- it's alright. You can go shower, I can cook something. Please, it's the least I could do for this." He grabbed her shoulders, spinning her to face him. They ended up a lot physically closer than expected, almost nose to nose but neither moved. It was undeniable that y/n was in fact quite pretty too, her features being perfect under the bruises. His blood boiled at these wounds, he wasn't perfect, but he wouldn't jump someone for no reason. The pair didn't say anything for a few seconds, eyes hopping from lips to eyes again before Arata built up enough courage to wrap his arms around her entirely, embracing her with his face buried into her shoulder. Stunned, y/n's arms found his waist, hugging him tightly.

"Thank you, y/n. Tell me what I need to do to help and I'll do it. This is our home." His eyes welled and his voice broke. Holding back his emotions for so long overfilled the bucket until it finally overflowed. He sobbed heavily, but he couldn't express how grateful he was even though they were crazy for coming to this conclusion after just meeting. But in the end, they were the same - just two incredibly lonely souls who craved the feeling of coexisting with someone.

"Yeah, Maekawa. Our home." Y/n's lips couldn't help but tug into a smile, rubbing his back as his muscles relaxed into her. This is all she ever wanted, someone in her position, confiding in her with the reassurance that she is a comforting person, hell, she had a crying male in her arms and she felt trusted.

Two lonely souls whose paths finally met after a series of unfortunate events.

[Masterlist]

[Requests OPEN]

Tagging (lemme know if you want to be (un)tagged in HiGH&LOW content): @straysugzhpe @airbendertendou @shiropatootie

#high&low #highandlow #arata maekawa x reader #arata maekawa #arata high&low #high&low oneshot #high&low x reader #high&low the worst

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sonickedtrowel · 1 year

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binary solar system

Another one-shot chapter! the prompt here is.... is I wrote pregnant River and young babies/kids with these guys when I had absolutely no idea what I was talking about and I'm sure if I went back and read it after having 2 babies my soul would cringe out of my body. So instead let me just present you with this, a scene from Darillium which hopefully resonates more with those of you out there who have reproduced. 12/River ao3 link

“What the hell even is a round ligament?” River asked, unceremoniously flinging a pamphlet from the obstetrician’s office over the arm of the sofa and onto the floor.

“Er,” the Doctor carefully began, “I think it’s—”

“I know what it is,” she snapped, which, honestly, he should have seen coming. “I know because it simulates me being stabbed in the abdomen eighty three fucking thousand times a day. Round ligament. Fucking bastard traitor.”

There were a lot of things about humanoid pregnancy that were significantly improved upon by living in a sufficiently advanced society with decent modern medicine. Safe, well-tested anti-nausea medications. Effective preventive treatments for life-threatening complications like pre-eclampsia. The highest quality of monitoring and interventions available for any foetal developmental concerns. Advanced surgical techniques and augmented healing technologies that made the dangerous and unpredictable old-fashioned mode of childbirth a thing of the past— evolution truly had dropped the ball on that one.

But there were some things that remained, as River succinctly pronounced, “total shit.”

“Why don’t you lie down for a bit, dear?” the Doctor suggested. “I’ll start dinner, you get some rest. Doc—”

“I swear to god,” she interrupted, “if you say ‘Doctor’s orders,’ you can kiss this face goodbye, because I will shoot you in it. And if the next one’s hot I won’t even feel bad.”

“Fair enough,” he replied, valiantly struggling to choke down a laugh, because he felt fairly sure that would not go over well at the moment.

“Anyway,” River lamented, “resting is the problem. Obviously I need all the rest I can get, but I can’t get any because when I lie down there’s a, a bowling ball, just— rolling all around in there, bouncing off my round ligament whenever I try to move a half an inch— oh, but if I don’t keep flipping sides like I’m being cooked on a spit I’ll throw out a hip! And the stupid app said they’re only the size of a, a— what is it this week?”

“Rhodocrosian dwarf leek,” the Doctor supplied helpfully.

“Which is fucking meaningless, by the way, because the proportions are not even remotely comparable— but the point is,” she stressed, stopping mid-pantomime, “whichever way you measure a spring onion, or whatever, it should not be big enough to be smashing my ligaments!”

“I think it’s supposed to get better soon,” said the Doctor, crouching in front of the sofa and laying his hand ever-so-carefully over the upper curve of the tiny swell in River’s belly, avoiding the bastard traitor. “Remember Dr. Kiril said something about touching the abdominal wall? Not as much rolling around once the bowling ball’s out of room.”

“To be replaced with something even more dreadful, no doubt.”

“I’m sorry, dear. You’ve definitely got the worse end of this deal.”

“And to think, we spent all that time trying to make this happen,” she sighed. “I’ve been so spoilt, always being a bit superhuman. Healing quickly, never having to feel my age or the little inconveniences and indignities it normally brings. Making a baby sounds so magical and romantic in the abstract but it’s all been so… biological. All the scans, all the hormone testing— do you know how long I’ve been pissing in little plastic cups? Three years, Doctor. Every month: ovulation tests, pregnancy tests, then start all over again. So much hope tied up in such an unappealing ritual. Like making a little advent calendar of urine.” He failed to suppress his laugh at that, but River smiled, wearily. “At least I only have to do it at appointments now. There’s not a shred of dignity left to me in this entire business. And what a way to spend what’s meant to be our longest honeymoon. It’s all terribly unsexy.”

“Well, there were quite a few sexy parts, as I recall.”

“If you don’t mind being on a very strict schedule.”

“I didn’t mind.”

“Doctor,” River said solemnly, and he took her hand, as he knew well now when she was bravely preparing to say something important, against many decades of instinct to bury it instead. “Have we just… thrown the biggest spanner you could possibly imagine into everything?”

“Well… yeah, maybe, a bit,” he replied— there was, of course, no use pretending otherwise. “But in a good way.”

“But, it’s— it is completely mad, isn’t it? We’re so happy in our life, let’s blow it up on purpose. I couldn’t fathom loving another person like I love you, but instead of just enjoying that incredible, rare, precious thing, we’ll make a new person from scratch! Who are we to make a person? Why does anyone ever do something so obviously insane?”

The Doctor laughed softly, stood, and settled carefully down beside River on the sofa, giving her room to gingerly rearrange herself against him.

“It’s just so hard to imagine what it will really be like,” she mumbled into his shoulder. “It’s— it’s like moving the stars. Adding a second sun to a solar system. Everything’s going to change, and it can’t all be for the better. When there’s more light, some things will burn.”

“Well, you’re not wrong about any of that,” he said, carefully draping his arm around her and threading his fingers through hers. “But we do have a pretty extensive record of doing completely mad things. It’s our speciality, really. And, you know… it is very normal to have doubts about such a huge change.” He pressed a kiss to her temple and she curled a little more into his side, her breath hitching as she winced with the movement. “It’s a leap of faith with a very long way to the landing. You’ve got to get through a lot of wild thoughts on the way down. And thank you. For telling me how you’re feeling.”

“Well, I appreciate you not pointing out that I sound like I’ve completely lost my mind. I have actually noticed.”

“Nah,” he scoffed. “You just sound like you’re… growing a new sun. You’re handling it magnificently.”

“How are you so bloody calm about it, by the way?” she grumbled.

“Oh, don’t worry, dear, I’m an absolute mess. This is what we call triage. You just carry on and I won’t have to pay any attention to me— doing me a favour, really.”

“Mm. Sounds healthy.”

“I think, in this specific case, it’s sort of the natural order of things.”

“And you know, of course I’m worried but… I don’t actually have any doubts. I don’t even know this person yet, and they’re making my life an enormous pain in ways I’d never imagined, and I don’t regret it one bit. Isn’t that strange?”

“Well, not so strange. Love is like that. No one ever said it made sense.”

“What, no ‘biological imperative’ talk? No human hormones hijacking my brain? Suddenly when it’s our little foetus it’s all mushy stuff?”

“River Song, let me tell you something very important right now. It was a hard lesson to learn, but ever since you came into my life, it’s all been mushy stuff.” She laughed, and turned her head to kiss him, the tension tangibly melting out of her shoulders as her lips lingered against his.

“Oh,” she moaned, “I would really, really love you to take me to bed, if I could move at all without the stabbing.”

“How about I do take you to bed, get you all set up with your pillows and wedges and noodles and whatnot, and we can see how the bastard traitor is feeling later.”

“Okay,” she sighed. “Oh! Oh, there it goes— put your hand right here!” She grabbed his hand and pressed it very firmly to her stomach, which was alarming considering how she seemed not to be able to do anything without incurring the round ligament’s wrath, but then—

“Oh!” The Doctor could feel the sort of grin taking over his face that River teased would make him look like the Grinch, if he weren’t so pretty. (He wasn’t so sure about ‘pretty’ as an appropriate adjective for this face, but had decided not to object.) “Hello, there,” he said softly.

“You really felt it this time?” she asked, beaming back at him as she pressed her hand down over his.

“Yeah, just a teeny tiny little… poke. A little hand? Little foot?”

“My bet’s on little elbow,” she said, cradling the tiny curve of her belly. “I’m sure a half-developed leek with pointy elbows and no body fat would look fairly ghastly, but… they certainly are sweet from this angle, aren’t they?”

“Yeah,” the Doctor agreed, though it came out with a gravelly waver to it. “The sweetest. Well, easy for me to say; I’m not getting poked.”

“I think that’s my favourite part, actually. Like they’re saying hello. Then it’s not some big unimaginable unknown we’re waiting for, it’s… just this little one right here. Already keeping me company.”

“So maybe there is a little magic left in the process?”

“I guess so.” River smiled with the sort of Christmas-morning delight he’d hoped would fill every moment of their night on Darillium, and the Doctor thought having two suns in his life seemed like the perfect number.

#12river #the doctor/river song #dr fic #river song #12th doctor #darillium pregnancy fluff #this ones for the parents out there bc i sure as shit didn't know what i was talking about last time i wrote pregnant river lmao

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therealnuclearplatypus · 1 year

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@shittygaypornmagazinedotcom @leovaldezdefender aNNND HERE IT IS !!

somewhere on the roiling toiling seas

He ran the whole ship on his own. He'd long since learned his lesson when it came to being part of a team. People would only betray you. Stab you in the back and laugh while they did it.

Leo looked out across the waters and strained to see the approaching land: Illyria. Land of the most aristocratic of noblemen, of wine and riches and luxury. He hated it.

He went there often to steal from the townspeople. Nicking a portion of their interminable riches? That was barely a crime at all.

Ever since his mother had died, he'd lived on the waves, stealing and killing and surviving. He'd joined a ship with the cruelest of men who made him work tirelessly. Swabbing the decks, making their dinners. He'd had enough. He killed them all. Slit their throats one by one in their sleep. He'd recruited others and named himself captain. But they'd betrayed him. Left him on an island to die and took over his ship. Bastards.

Then he'd taken over a smaller ship that had docked at the island they'd left him on and claimed it. He never sailed with others again. It was a lonely life he led, but alone was the only way he would thrive. Others would only hinder him, over and over again.

Illyria was in sight. He grinned, a flash of teeth in the dark. They'd never see him coming. They never did.

somewhere in a palace in Illyria

The rooms were vast and dark. They echoed with his every movement. All these material goods and yet he felt so, so alone.

His grandmother and mother had died, leaving him with all their money and wealth. The lands were his, the estate was his, everything was his. He didn't know what to do with them.

Daily he roamed the shadowy corridors. He'd sent all the servants away. Who were they to tend to? Ghosts? He could clean the palace himself and make his own food. How else was he to fill his days?

So young and yet so empty. He felt ashamed of himself. His mother and grandmother wouldn't have wanted him to end up like this. Ever. Yet look at him now.

A commotion outside startled him out of his thoughts and brought him back to his senses. Someone was screaming.

"That pirate bastard is back! He's coming for our loot!"

Frank felt a fire ignite in his chest. That son of a bitch was back. This was the most emotion he'd felt in a long time. Liquid flame burned in his veins. There was no way in hell Valdez was gonna steal from him. Not a single chance.

꧁༒꧂

Leo felt the familiar rush of adrenaline as he heard the yells behind him. He never bothered to be stealthy. These spoilt brats would never catch up to him anyway. He doubted they'd ever run a mile in their lives.

Except one. He saw his furious face in the window and laughed at him. Frank Zhang. One of the noblemen. He'd pillaged Illyria as a young scoundrel, and later as the captain of his own crew. And now, as a lone wolf. He would always see Zhang and he hated him. Hated him and his privileged life and his money and his palace and his everything. It didn't matter that he was the most deliriously good-looking man he'd ever seen. It really didn't.

He edged closer to Zhang's residence. He heard footsteps and the door swung open violently.

"Here again, Valdez?" Frank spat venomously.

"Here again," Leo replied cheerfully.

Zhang looked like he'd swallowed a lemon. "Why? Why must you? We're peaceful here. Until you come along!"

"Eh, it's too peaceful," Leo said with a shrug, "someone's gotta spice things up a little from time to time."

Frank scowled so viciously Leo considered himself lucky that looks couldn't kill. "Go back to the seas, rogue. We have no need of you here."

Leo smiled sweetly at him. "You are all rich privileged assholes who think the world is made for your pleasure. A lot of hedonists. Well, I come visit to remind you that you are all very mortal, and not invincible. You are all very vincible."

"Is that even a word?" Frank said. He shook his head. "Never mind. We are all well aware of our mortality, Valdez. My mother was. My grandmother was. Death comes for us all. I will be next, as will the rest of the persons in each household here. You are not a reminder of our impermanence. You are a threat."

"I like that, too," Leo said with another nonchalant shrug. "And my mother is dead, too. You are not special, Zhang. Your wealth will never place you above me."

"Who ever said it does? Valdez, if any nobleman ever implied that, they are a fool, and you are a bigger fool for believing them and acting upon it. All of us here in Illyria are innocent. Where we got our gold, we do not know, it is true. But the conquests of our ancestors do not define us. I've no need for my riches. Would you like them instead? I would give them to you. Would that cease your reign of terror?"

Leo stared at him. "Do not try to frame me as a total villain here, Zhang. I will not—"

"You aren't necessarily the villain. Although you are turning yourself into one. You have suffered and wish to take it out upon a world that has scorned you. Fine. Leave us out of it."

Leo seemed speechless. Then he glared at Frank. "Fuck you. You're right, but fuck you."

Frank was more surprised at the admission than at the expletives. "Good. That you see that I'm right, I mean. Not—whatever. Look. I hate you for the fear you bring my hometown. I hate you and your handsome face and your stupid ship. You don't even have a crew. What pirate are you? But—ugh."

"What is it? Out with it." Leo was becoming impatient.

"You must be taught the ways of society. You must be civilised. Stay here a month and I'll teach you. Then off with you again and go away. Elsewhere."

"You want to train me? Like a pet? No thank you." Leo made to shove the other man, but didn't have the heart to go through with it. He ended up awkwardly brushing his hand against Frank's chest. The latter stared at him in confusion. He was less angry, but the fire was still smouldering behind his dark eyes.

"I'm not treating you as my pet. Far from it. If you are to be taught some measure of respect, you must be respected. You will be my equal. You are my equal. We are both men, are we not? Get inside, it's freezing out here."

Leo didn't even know what to say to that. He was so dumbfounded he obeyed Zhang without complaint.

Frank closed the door behind them. He was cursing himself for calling Leo handsome to his face.

one month later

"Month's over," Frank said sleepily.

"Eh," Leo replied. "The tide swept my boat away. I guess I'll have to stay. Boo-hoo."

"Boo-hoo indeed," Frank responded. He kissed him. "I still hate you. Pirate bastard."

"I hate you too. Aristocratic asshole." Leo grinned and kissed him again. "Aw, fuck. You grew on me. Like a mould. Guess I'll keep ya."

Frank wrinkled his nose at the comparison. "You disgust me."

"And I'll do that for many years to come, darlin'."

#gods oh gods theyre gay #valzhang #frank zhang #leo valdez #pjo #hoo #toa #rick riordan

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