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fweasleyswhore · 3 years

Text

Commitments - Smut

pairing: Oliver Wood, Fred Weasley, George Weasley x fem!reader (no incest just sharing)

a/n: I would like to do a pt 2 to this because I just have so much more I can fit into this dynamic and I like it (hornhee disease really takin over)

word count : 4.9k

warning: smut, 18+ themes, face fucking (male recieving), oral and fingering (female recieving), unprotexted sex -wrap before you tap kids-, choking, dom/sub themes, slight bdsm themes, subby reader, titles are given, its pure filth, friends with benefits relationship

mature readers only, this has heavier themes in it and i only want people who are completely ok with those themes reading

My head pounded and my stomach growled. It was the first feeling I registered as I opened my eyes. I was cold, hungry, and in pain. I blinked a few times, pulling my head up from its position on the table where I had been napping. I focussed my eyes on my unfinished potions essay. Groaning I rubbed my eyes. Not only did I not finish it, but I also fell asleep. It was due in two days and I had barely started. I still needed to-

Quidditch Practice. The potions essay fell to the depths of my mind as I scoured the library walls for a clock. Unsuccessful in finding one, I decided I was probably only late. Shoving my papers into my bag I ran out of the library, ignoring wandering stares from students I made my way to the changing rooms.

The door flung open and slowed down for the first time, panting slightly I made it over to the lockers, ready to get out my equipment. I picked up my shaky hands to do the combination when a voice interrupted me.

“I wouldn’t bother,” Oliver spoke. Based on the volume of his voice and the slight temperature change in the air, he was right behind me. Pulling my bottom lip between my lip I turned around, his toned chest was dripping, a towel hung low on his hips and his hair was ruffled slightly and damp. Our bodies were merely inches apart and I could see the anger in his eyes as I looked up at him.

“Ollie…” I tried but my nickname for him only caused an annoyed look to grace his features.

“Don’t,” His voice was stern and it made me feel cold. “You knew how important practice was today but you skipped anyway. We play Slytherin in two days! Where were you? Giving our play strategies to Adrian Pucey probably.” He rolled his eyes and walked next to me. He turned his attention to his locker, presumably to get clothes as I was left there with my mouth feeling dry and a ball of guilt in my stomach replacing my hunger.

“I fell asleep in the library, I don’t have an excuse,” I spoke truthfully and watched my hands as I spoke afraid to meet his gaze. “I haven’t been sleeping well lately and I dozed off. I really am sorry.”

He sighed and I wished at that moment I could crawl inside myself and disappear. “L/N, I don’t play favorites, you know this, but you are an essential part of this team. In this practice, we were working in groups, Fred George and I practically sat there the entire time because you were missing from our group. The other chasers were running well-needed drills and we had devised a strategic plan that would push not only you but the three of us too and you weren’t there. Today’s practice was a waste of time for us.” His words hurt me, they were filled with anger and it wasn’t a feeling he had ever directed at me.

“Ollie I truly am so sorry. I know this and I wish there was anything I could do to make it up to you. I know how stressed you are about the game, I just, I’m so sorry.” I finally looked up and he was facing me again, his locker forgotten. He was close to me again, his body heaved as he breathed heavily.

“Stress relief?” He asked, causing me to furrow my brows. Before I could ask him what he meant he spoke again. “You are right, I am stressed, that’s why I’m asking if you will help me with stress relief.”

I nodded understandably. I couldn’t fight the smile that found its way to my face as I realized what he was asking for. “You want me to massage your shoulders Wood?” I asked teasingly. He let out a short breath before taking a step forward. He toward over me, our chests almost flush as his hand caressed my cheek. His touch was sending shivers down my spine and butterflies to erupt in my stomach. Oliver was a good friend of mine, I always left my lingering eyes on him for too long but never admitted my feelings for him. I wasn’t sure if they were real feelings or pure lust. Being on the quidditch team I was never sure if I liked him or seeing his half-naked body as he ran down drills.

“Not what I had in mind,” I bit my lip as the nerves began to build up. His hand trailed down my cheek and under my jaw which he grasped semi firmly, pulling my face up to his. Our lips met in a messy heated kiss. I gasped into his mouth as my hand found its way to his neck pulling him closer to me. His legs parted my own and he pushed his hips flush against mine. An unintentional moan slipped from my mouth at the contact but that didn’t stop him, if anything it fueled his motions. He took the opportunity to slip his tongue into my mouth, it was a short fight that he quickly won. He pulled away suddenly, my face remained in his grip, the stern hand he had on my face caused my lips to part slightly. I looked up at him, blinking my lashes and grinding my hips softly onto his leg that was positioned in between my legs.

“I want this but I need to know you do too.” His voice was usually cheery but now it was stern and low, a side of him I had never seen and god I wished I did sooner. I pushed my hips down with more force, the friction finally hitting where I need it most and I moaned.

“Godric, yes Oliver, yes, yes, yes.” His gaze was cold and his face didn’t change when I gave my answer, instead he pushed his thigh harder into me, adding pressure I didn’t know I needed. “Fuck.” I whimpered shutting my eyes.

“Tsk, Tsk,” He tutted, pulling my eyes open I looked up at him. “If you continue to have a dirty mouth like that I’ll fill it up. Understood?” Growing wetter at his words I nodded feverishly. “Words darling.” He pushed his thigh into me harder. I let out a short breath, trying to compose myself.

“Y-Yes Sir.”

“Good girl. Keep being good maybe I will forget about the punishment I had planned for your absence.” I let out a whimper at his praise, the promise of punishment striking my core, had he thought of this before? He smirked down at me as I began to rut my hips against his thigh. Occasionally he would pull his leg back causing me to whine only to push it back with more force than before causing my legs to lose feeling as the pleasure built up. We were so wrapped up in our display we didn’t hear the two prominent footsteps grow closer until they were right next to us.

“Bloody hell.” Geroge’s voice interrupted. I opened my eyes and pulled Oliver against me to shield myself, in doing so I could feel the prominent bulge that formed under his not so restraining towel. “We heard Y/N came to the locker room and Fred and I were half sure you were killing her, not…” He trailed off and I watched as his eyes looked me up and down, my hair was no doubt a mess and Oliver’s leg was still in between mine applying a wonderful but also horrible pressure to my clit.

“Glad you’re not dead Y/N, but if getting off is what you wanted you could have always just come to my dorm,” Fred spoke from beside George. Leaning against the other row of lockers he looked significantly more comfortable than George, his trademark smirk plastered his face and his eyes kept flickering to where Oliver’s leg was positioned. I grew hot at his words as I looked between the twins. My eyes flickered up to Oliver who was giving both boys, especially Fred, a hard glare. Before I could protest Oliver’s hand found my hip and he pushed my hips into his thigh, pulling me forward into a rocking motion. I reacted by throwing my head back and letting out a moan, the feeling was too good to hide it. I didn’t let myself get too lost in the pleasure as I remembered our audience. Pulling my head back I eyed the boys with half-lidded eyes. Oliver was still guiding my hips against his thigh, his eyes were trained on my face as I whimpered trying to blink and focus on what was happening, my brain was fighting not wanting to stop but also worried about Fred and George’s presence.

Fred’s eyes were wide and hungry, he was still leaning against the lockers but his eyes were trained on the way my body moved. George was too watching, he took his brother’s stance, leaning on the lockers next to me. I could see two significant tents forming in both of their trousers, George’s hand slid into his pocket and he silently palmed himself at my display.

Seeing that they were enjoying themselves I let my worries dissipate, throwing my head back I moved my hips in time with Oliver’s guiding hands. Oliver ducked his head and began sucking on my neck. Rutting my hips faster I became more vocal, Fred and George let out small grunts here and there that I assume was due to their hands work which only egged on my ministrations. Soon enough the feeling became too overwhelming to bear, my legs began to shake and my breathing was becoming labored. “Ollie please, I need to-” My words were cut short as Oliver harshly nipped at my neck causing me to gasp.

“That’s not my name.” He whispered in my ear. I felt his arms stop their guidance slowing me down.

“Please Sir, please let me cum.” I begged submissively, not worried about the whine in my voice but rather the orgasm that was so close which was starting to vanish.

His hands grasped my hips with a different purpose now and he brought me back to the same speed that had me whimpering and moaning a few seconds ago.

“What do you think guys? Shall we let Y/N cum? Has she earned it?” I snapped my eyes open looking between the three boys frantically, letting out whines as Oliver applied more pressure with his thigh.

“I’m not sure she has,” Fred spoke up, he had a drunken look of hunger that made me shiver.

“I don’t think so.” George agreed.

“What a shame,” Oliver said looking down at me. “Guess you have to wait, darling.” With those few words, he held my hips firm and removed his thigh from me. I wouldn’t be surprised if his thigh had gotten wet through my trousers but I was too upset to be concerned with that at the moment. I whined lightly at the loss of contact and tried to stabilize my shaky legs.

“How can I earn it?” I looked between the boys who all adorned with wide grins. When I got no response I decided to push a little. “If you don’t tell me I’ll just get myself off.” All three boys lost their grins, not completely but their eyes went dark at my words, and they stood up straighter, they watched my hands as they trailed down to my trousers, popping the button.

“Brats don’t get rewards,” George said softly from next to me. His hand grasped mine and halted my motions, his grip was iron tight as he looked down at me. I angled my body so I was facing him, with my free hand I cupped him through his trousers.

“Then tell me what to do, sir.” I looked up at him with the most innocent face I could muster, cocking my head to the side slightly. I’m sure the markings on my neck from Oliver ruined the innocent facade a little bit but watching George swallow hard and breathe heavily through his nose was enough to tell me it was working.

“On your knees, now.” His voice was firm and it sent shivers down my spine as I sunk to my knees. My face was level with George’s clothed cock, I placed my hands behind my back and looked up at him waiting for permission. He brought his hand down, pulling my head up from my chin, he swiped my bottom lip with his thumb. “Go ahead, sweetheart.”

I smiled at the name, undoing his pants with ease I heard a slight groan as I pulled them down freeing his erection a bit. He was big, much bigger than I’ve had before. I tried to swallow my nerves as I pulled him out and stroked him slowly. I wrapped my lips around his tip, circling the tip with my tongue that elicited a moan from above me. I smiled and began to take him, or as much as I could. He hit the back of my throat before I got to his base, I gagged lightly and began to bob my head, stroking what was left with my hand. I felt a foreign hand in my hair, straining my eyes I looked up to see Oliver pulling some strands of my hair back. I rubbed my thighs together my arousal building to extreme heights.

“Fuck,” George moaned. He pulled out enough so his tip rested against my lips. “Do you think you can take all of me?” I stroked him slowly as I thought to myself.

“Will it get me my reward,” I asked in a sweet tone. He opened his mouth to reply so I kitten licked his tip, twisting my wrist as I continued to pump him. His words were cut off by a sharp intake of breath as he hissed.

“Definitely, and if you stop being a brat it will probably get you two.” I smiled at his response and pulled back my hand, opting to rest both of them on my thighs. Opening my mouth I relaxed my jaw and stuck my tongue out. George took his dick and slapped my tongue with it a few times.

“Such a good girl, so ready for me aren’t you, whore?” He asked with a devilish smirk. I nodded and let out a small involuntary whine at his words.

“Such a little slut, you’re gonna let him use you like that?” Fred asked. He walked over, his dick now free from its restraints he pumped it slowly. He ran his fingers through my hair, grabbing it tightly and pulling my head back to face him, his harshness made me whine and I squeezed my thighs together, growing wetter. “You like this don’t you? Such a dirty girl.” He let go of my hair and my head fell forward, George’s dick slapping my cheek lightly in the process.

“Our dirty girl.” Oliver praised smoothing my hair. I smiled before opening my mouth again, making eye contact with George to let him know I was ready. He smiled and slid in slowly, I wrapped my mouth around him and tried to maintain my composure as he began to slide down my throat. I gagged lightly which caused him to groan and go deeper. I breathed out through my nose as my eyes began to well up, I closed them and focussed on keeping my throat open for him.

Suddenly I felt a hand on my thigh, opening my eyes, blinking some tears away. I could make out Fred smiling as he kneeled next to me. I shut my eyes spreading my legs for him. He dipped his hand into my trousers tracing my lips from outside my panties. I moaned at the contact around George making him groan.

“You’re getting off on this aren’t you, completely soaked for us,” Fred whispered in my ear pushing my panties to the side. I moaned again which caused George to pick up his pace. I was gagging and tears were streaming down my face but I was enjoying it so much. Fred circled my clit with his nimble fingers making me gag and moan more but I didn’t care. George’s thrusts were becoming erratic and I knew he would come soon. Purposely swallowing around him caused him to meet his end. He buried his dick inside of my throat, my nose pressed up against his abdomen I moaned, swallowing his cum that shot down my throat. He pulled out of me, a trail of spit followed connecting us until it broke, slapping against my chin. Panting, I gasped for air and leaned my head on Fred’s shoulder. Fred picked his speed up on my clit causing me to yell out his name. He continued his brutal pace and I felt my orgasm catching up to me yet again.

“Please, George,” My words were cut off by a moan and I jerked my head back. “Please I’m going to cum I need your permission.” Fred was chuckling in my ear from my desperation but I couldn’t care right now. My legs were shaking and my abdomen was cramping up as I continued to fight it off.

George knelt in front of me, grabbing my neck with a strong hand he pulled my head forward. I fought against my body to open my eyes and look at him. “Cum for us, cum like the whore you are.” As he spoke he increased the pressure on my neck. My eyes rolled back as my orgasm washed over me, I shook violently, screaming out I felt myself release. Fred didn’t stop his fingers, they continued his brutal pace and his smirk grew as I began to shake from overstimulation.

“Good whore.” Fred whispered pulling his hand away from my core. I leaned back against Oliver’s leg and watched as Fred sucked his fingers clean. Oliver looked down at me with his dark eyes, filled with lust and hunger. Fred linked his arm around my waist and pulled me up. We walked over to a bench at the end of the row of lockers, he laid me down on my back. I giggled to myself watching him struggle to pull my trousers off. My laughter was cut short as he landed a short slap to my bare pussy, I moaned at the harsh contact.

“Don’t be a brat.” He warned and I nodded. I pulled my shirt off and unhooked my bra. Fred inserted a finger inside of me, slowly he began to pump in and out before adding another one, I moaned at the light stretch as he pumped faster, curling them to hit my G-spot.

“Such pretty moans.” George praised. He was knelt beside me and began to massage my breasts. I gasped as he began to suck on my nipple. Pulling my hands up I ran my fingers through his hair. Oliver stood on my other side, he was slowly pumping his cock at the scene below him. I felt Fred pull his fingers out and I whined at the loss. Fred spit directly onto my clit, I felt the liquid drip down and mix with my own juices.

“Spread your legs for me, darling,” I did as he said and opened my legs for him. “So pretty, princess, are you ready for me?”

“Yes, please,” I whined out. George was now attacking my neck, sucking and nipping at the sensitive flesh that took my breath away. I stopped breathing completely as Fred pushed into me. Slowly he filled me to the hilt, he had to be the same size as George. I felt him bump my cervix when his hips met mine. My mouth was open in a silent scream as he let out a slow groan. He stayed there for a moment, letting me get used to the stretch that came with his impressive size. When he felt me relax he began to slowly thrust in and out of me.

“Faster, fuck, please faster.” I moaned out. He quickly obliged by setting a ruthless pace that had my brain cloudy with the pleasure I was feeling. Oliver leaned down, kissing me roughly, our teeth clashed due to my shaking from Fred’s pace but that didn’t stop either of us.

“Such a whore, putting this show on for me, is this supposed to make me forgive you?” He asked, one of his hands trailed down my torso, he left feather-light touches on my breasts.

“Y-Yes all for you.” I struggled out. He suddenly pinched my nipple, pulling it lightly causing me to moan out loudly.

“Hm, all for me? You let them down too, it’s not very kind if it’s all for me now is it?” I nodded in agreement unable to speak as Fred propped my leg onto his shoulder, the new angle intensifying the pleasure I was feeling. “What are we going to do about that then?” Oliver asked.

I opened and closed my mouth like a fish out of water. I couldn’t conjure up a sentence much less a viable answer that would satisfy him as my orgasm steadily approached.

“What a shame, it looks like I will have to punish you after all.” He whispered in my ear. I moaned at his words. Fred continued to hit that spot deep inside me that sent me closer to heaven and hell at the same time.

“I need to, please, I-” My words drowned out into a moan as Fred thrust harder.

“You need to cum, slut?” Fred asked, words spaced out with his thrusts. His hair was dripping with sweat, his chest was glistening with sweat, somewhere in the process he had lost his shirt.

“Yes, yes please!” I begged.

I could hear the smirk on his face as he replied. “Cum for me princess.” My second orgasm washed over me. My legs shook and I tightened my walls, screwing my eyes shut I let out a long moan as Fred continued to pump in and out of me, riding out my orgasm. His hips began to slow and he stopped, flush against me I felt his dick twitch, shooting long ropes of cum painting my insides.

Fred’s hands rubbed up and down my thighs, soothing their shaking. He kissed my knee and unhooked my leg from his shoulder, gingerly pulling out, I whined feeling sensitive and empty at the loss. Fred walked to the side of me, replacing Oliver who was now out of sight. He kneeled beside me and stroked my hair. “You did so good.” He praised.

George hummed softly, his head rested on my stomach under my breast where he was leaving soft kisses earlier beforehand. “Such a pretty slut for us.” He added.

“She may be pretty but that’s not going to make up for what she did.” Oliver said, he was circling his hands on my thighs, his towel now long forgotten, his erection was prominent and it prodded my legs as they shook. His tip was red and needy with precum, I could only assume how much it ached.

“Hm and what did she do?” Fred asked, feigning confusion, a slight smirk on his lips. Oliver had a smile playing on his lips as his hands trailed toward my core. He started to tease my folds, rubbing around spreading the shared release between me and Fred everywhere except my throbbing clit.

“She skipped practice, you know that.” Oliver growled.

“I didn’t mean to-” I trued but Oliver suddenly slapped my pussy, the harsh contact with my clit made me moan.

“You skipped.” He said sternly. I took that as a signal to shut up so I nodded, feeling the excitement buzz in my veins. My pussy throbbed in anticipation as his fingers ghosted over my entrance and up to my clit.

“Hm, I didn’t think about that, should I have punished you princess?” Fred asked. Before I could answer George attached his lips to my nipple, he lapped it and bit it lightly causing me to gasp. He pulled off with a pop, grinning.

“I should have bent you over my knee, showed you who you belong too.” George purred, he trailed up so his breath fawned over the shell of my ear. “Would you have liked that sweetheart? Being so marked and bruised you can’t sit straight? Everytime you sit down you will be reminded of the little whore you are for us, how you bent over willingly, swallowed my cock and came on Freddies fingers. You would like that wouldn’t you?” His voice was deep and it sent shivers through me and took the air from my lungs.

“I think she likes that George.” Oliver said grinning. “Shes practically dripping.” Suddenly he inserted two fingers into me, pumping at a relentless pace. Sounds of squeltching filled the air as he began to hit that spot inside of me, over and over again. I screwed my eyes shut feeling blissed out as George nipped my ear whispering small taunts while massaging my breasts, Fred on my other side whispering praise and playing with my hair.

“You like being used don’t you?” Geroge would ask, licking the shell of my ear.

“Such a good girl, you gonna moan princess?” Fred would add, kissing my cheek.

They continued the process until I was a writhing mess. I was about to ask for permission to cum when Oliver wrapped his lips around my clit, sucking and flicking it with his tongue that just sent me over the edge. I came for a third time, shaking crying out, I felt a few tears fall from eyes as he didn’t slow down until I was convulsing and my eyes were rolled back in my head. Oliver pulled back and I gasped for air now that I was given a slight break. Suddenly he slammed into me, his dick stretched me in a delicious way. I yelped at the sudden contact. He didn’t give me time to adjust like Fred, instead he pulled out nearly all the way before slamming back into me.

“O-Ollie.” I moaned out throwing my head back.

“What do you call me?” He growled, slapping my clit lightly and thrusting in forcefully. He halted his motions for a moment, grinding his hips into me and it felt heavenly.

“I’m sorry Sir! Please keep going!” I whined.

“Good girl.” Oliver praised pulling out an slamming back into me. He continued his relentless pace, slapping my clit and tits, pinching my nipples, occasionally leaning over to nip at my leg. I alternated between kissing Fred and George who whispered dirty things to me and swallowed the moans I left in their mouths. I felt Oliver speed up and I felt yet again that I was teetering on the edge.

“Sirs, please I need to cum,” I whined looking between all three boys. Fred and George nodded with cheeky grins and my gaze fell forward to Oliver between my legs. Oliver grabbed my hip with one hand, reaching down and grabbing my neck with the other in grip that could bruise.

“Cum then, cum on my dick slut.” Oliver grunted tightening his grip on my neck. I gave in, letting go and cumming harder than I have before. I let go, squirting onto his torso. Oliver kept pumping into me riding out my orgasm until he pulled out, cumming on my pussy, throwing white ropes on my glistening cunt. I was breathless and lightheaded, Oliver let go of my neck, my head fell back against the bench and I panted. Oliver spread my legs whistling lowly to himself.

“So pretty.” He muttered before ducking his head down and running a long stripe up my folds with his tongue. I jolted at the feeling, my body spasming as his tongue hit my clit. I felt him suck lightly and I whined. That’s when he pulled his head up, and leaned over me, his lips were in a tight line and his body caged me. He took one of his hands and placed two fingers on my chin, applying light pressure signaling for me to open my mouth. I did, sticking my tongue out as I made eye contact with him. He spat our combined juices into my mouth, some of it getting on my chin. He used his thumb to lap it up, wiping it on my tongue.

“Swallow it.” He commanded. I did as I was told, opening my mouth to show him when I was done. “Good slut.” He praised.

“Beautiful.” George added.

“Breathtaking.” Fred quipped. I felt my cheeks heat up at their praise.

“T-Thank you.” I said timidly. Oliver smiled, it was his usual soft smile that made me melt. He stood up, offering a hand I gladly took and stood with him on my shaky legs. I slipped slightly and George stood on my side grabbing my hip. I felt Fred’s gentle hand on my back offering his support should I need it.

They cleaned me up, offering support and praise every second of the way. The game with Slytherin went well, Gyrffimdor won by a landslide, and once again we found ourselves in the locker room together celebrating.

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theladyismyshepard · 3 years

Note

37 kill for Daniela the red head, She kills one of the servents because of jealousy but the maiden is into it?? Maybe kinda nsfw

Sorry for the wait, my friend

I Always Feel Like Somebody’s Watching Me (NSFW)

TW: Violence

The sun was beating down on your back as you tended to the garden that you grew in the back courtyard. You had appealed to the Dimitrescus the benefits of planting your own vegetables and fruits and possibly the occasional pretty flower here or there. The Lady seemed uninterested in the thought altogether, making it clear that her mind was reserved for more stimulating subjects. Bela seemed halfhearted with her thoughtfulness, quickly zoning out. Cassandra had rolled her eyes and walked away after the word “garden”. Daniela was smiling though, her eyes glittery before she nodded along almost vehemently.

“I agree,” she said unabashed, ignoring her mother’s arched brow and Bela’s scoff. “Think of the ingredients we could grow ourselves instead of sending for delivery every other week.”

“Daniela, dear,” started Alcina, sighing almost exasperatedly, “Do you plan on going out and tending to this “garden”, hmm?”

You wanted to interject, it was the perfect moment to take responsibility for the care of the garden, and possibly even the grounds just to improve your worth around the castle. Yet, it required a lack in manners to interrupt a Lady when she’s speaking, and Alcina had a severe standard when it came to manners. And so you were forced to go with the smart move and bite your tongue as Daniela’s face dropped. That didn’t stop you from attempting to gain eye contact to give her a beseeching look.

“I’m sure we can find someone.” insisted Daniela, her eyes cutting to you before snapping back to her mother. “Someone very dependable,”

“I can do it,” you piped up, taking the opportunity, eyes dropping to the floor once Alcina’s gaze fell onto you.

“The question is will you,” drawled Alcina, eyes narrow as they looked you up and down. “As in, will I allow a human thing as yourself to control anything that is mine?”

You would have fell to your knees beneath the weight of the Lady’s attention had it not been for a certain redhead to stepped closer to you. You wanted to grab her hand, pull her close, wrap yourself around her for comfort, but you don’t. You never act on it, and she never dragged you to her bedroom cackling and giggling wildly as she did with other maids when she needed to get off. Though you were also the only one who didn’t emerge scarred and torn up.

“Of course, my Lady,” you conceded, bowing your head to show a sign of submission.

“Mother,” said Bela quietly, calmly interjecting, and waited until Alcina turned to address her. “I also think that a garden would be beneficial.”

Daniela had clapped happily when she realized her sister was aiding her in swaying their mother. Your eyes couldn’t settle between the three of the Dimitrescus. Alcina cocked her head to the side, adopting a fake look of thoughtfulness to cover how unimpressed she was.

“Oh, you do, darling?”

“Yes,” pressed Bela before her mother could continue on. “Imagine the access to ingredients for remedies to give the livestock. We could even grow foreign plants required for different potions!”

Fuck the fruits and vegetables, I guess.

And that was how the Lady was worn down and forced to give into her daughters desires. The garden didn’t necessarily consist of the produces that you originally planned for, but it got you out of the castle for extended points of time, and you weren’t complaining one bit. Castle Dimitrescu was a rather large estate, so there was plenty of room for the several varieties of roots, plants, and flowers that the Dimitrescus requested you take care of.

The heat of the sun had you pulling at the hem of your shirt to bring it up and wipe the sweat from your brow. The warm breeze hit you squarely on your exposed midsection, and you felt the dripping sweat drying grossly against your flesh. It felt as though eyes were upon you and when you let go of your shirt, ready to turn to check the windows of the castle, a person standing next to you nearly had you jumping out of your skin.

“Oh!” gasped the woman — a maid, “I’m sorry for scaring you.”

“It’s alright,” you assured, breathless and attempting to return your heart rate back to normal. “What’re you doing out here?”

Being outside was a luxury that none of the other maids could afford, so you were confused as to how this maid, Elle, had managed to avoid the lingering eyes that were everywhere. Her eyes averted as a slight blush came to her cheeks, and that’s when you saw the glass of water in her hand and your brain put two and two together. Oh.

“It’s hot today,” said Elle nonchalantly, even shrugging. “I figured you might need this.”

“Thank you,” you replied earnestly, grabbing the glass and taking greedy sips before you handed it back. “I appreciate it.”

“Well, I can’t have you fainting and bringing attention to yourself, now can I?” joked Elle, smiling bashfully.

You could’ve sworn that eyes were upon you, and you even went as far as to turn and check the windows, and while you thought you saw one of the curtains shifting, it also could’ve been a trick on your eyes. You furrowed your brow but turned back to Elle, who was looking at you expectantly, and for what, you weren’t sure. You smiled warmly.

“Thank you again, Elle, but I don’t want to hold you up any longer than I have.” You warned, making a face to emphasize, and she nodded in disappointment but reached forward to squeeze your hand.

“Stay safe,” she said, the maids’ usual words of departure.

“Stay safe,”

Eyes were watching you, but you couldn’t see from where, and that was the most dangerous predator: the one who hides before striking, and there was one predator who always had her watchful eye on you. Daniela. You gulped at the thought of Daniela catching another maid outside just to talk to you... no one, not even you were allowed to bend any of the rules, not even once... not when you were so easily replaced. Hopefully if you just went back to attending to the garden (rather stiffly), you could pretend that nothing would be amiss when you went back inside.

***

There was tension hanging in the air, thick enough to choke, and it had your spine as straight as a rod as you trudged through the pristine castle with your overall dirtiness, your shoes abandoned at the door. It was oddly quiet, and when the maids spotted you, they turned away quick, eyes wide with fright. Every step you took towards any of them, the maids took about six or seven steps away from you. Castle Dimitrescu might’ve been weird, but that was a new one...

You gave up on making conversation and instead wandered off to find a clean uniform to change out of the more comfortable wear you wore to tend to the ingredients. There was the nagging feeling that something was off in the air... Where were the Lady’s daughters? Their signature cackles failed to echo off the walls, and it left an uneasy silence in its wake. Now that you thought about it, you weren’t running into Elle either as you wandered deeper into the castle and found the maids’ quarters.

You quickly changed and made yourself presentable for your next task, and then you were again walking through the silent halls as you made your way to the kitchen. There was no real warmth to the kitchen, not when the stove had gone untouched for as long as you had been there. It wasn’t your place to question things around there, but you couldn’t help but to ask questions when you stepped inside and there was a silver platter with the cover still hiding what was underneath. What had you puzzled was the note that simply read your name propped right up against the cover.

You craned your neck when you felt eyes upon you yet again, but nobody was there... you knew better though and that’s what had needles prickling your skin and a cold sweat to break out. All that was missing was the giggling, but this really seemed like one of Daniela’s games she enjoyed playing. You turned back to the platter, and reached for the handle of the lid. After a shaky moment of building yourself up, you ripped the cover off like a bandaid, and froze, arm still raised.

Placed neatly upon the silver platter was Elle’s severed head. Her eyes were closed, and for that, you were grateful... you were too ashamed to look her in the eye seeing as this was all your fault. As your breathing hollowed out, that was when you finally heard a deep chuckle, one that had you going rigid... this wasn’t the Daniela that you had gotten used to, but it was one you were aware she could possess. Was she directing it towards you? You dropped the lid with a clatter.

“I didn’t like her very much.” said Daniela simply, and you gulped. “She liked you too much.”

You couldn’t miss the edge in her voice on the word. You finally blinked (your eyes suddenly burned) and looked away from the platter to connect eyes with the redhead. She wasn’t smiling and that was never a good sign. You forced a smile, one that you were scared was too obviously false.

“I didn’t like her either.” You choked out, fully turning your body away.

“You didn’t?” asked Daniela, her voice suddenly small and seeking reassurance, and you were struggling to keep up with her complete 180.

“Daniela...” You couldn’t say what you really wanted to... She was just bringing me water! “Why does it really matter to you so much?”

“Because you are mine!” She snapped, and you frowned.

“Doesn’t every maid here belong to you?” You countered, though you had to admit, you have more leeway than others did.

“They belong to the family, but you, you are mine, darling.” purred Daniela, stalking forward very slowly until she was before you. “No one else can even look at you the way I do.”

“But the other maids that you’ve...” You cringed, unwilling to finish, but Daniela picked up on what you were trying to say.

“I feed from them and that is all... Getting them a little scared makes the blood just a bit sweeter.” chuckled Daniela, and you frowned yet again.

“I thought you-”

“Slept with them?” Daniela drawled, now it was her turn to frown at you. “As tempting as it was, I think there’s one delicacy that I’m saving my pallet for.”

Her eyes roamed over your body with no holds barred, and you weren’t sure how you felt about the shiver that tingled down your spine. The fact that there was a severed head behind you was kinda throwing you for a loop. Daniela had her index finger and her middle finger tiptoeing up your arm until she was gingerly holding the side of your neck with obvious care. You gazed into her eyes and you were thoroughly entranced by the red headed beauty that would kill for you.

“Do you love me?” You whispered, almost afraid that what you were asking was a stupid question. Daniela’s face softened.

“I absolutely adore you, my love,” cooed Daniela, pulling you into a searing kiss that had your heart stuttering in your chest, and when the need for air had you pulling back, she already had her eyes open and watching you. “No one can take you away from me.”

Any sane person would hear the threat for what it really was, but there was nothing sane about the feelings she evoked from you just by being near you, even with Elle’s head served up right beside you. There was something about her possessiveness that could make you either feel very secured, or somewhat aroused, and you could hardly think of anything else but the fingers scratching at the hair at the base of your neck.

“I doubt anyone would be capable of taking me away from you.” You mused, and it was true. Bless the soul who tried to free you from the clutches of Daniela.

“Hm,” she hummed, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully as her eyes cut over every inch of your face. “Perhaps I should leave my mark for all to see?”

What surprised you the most was it seemed as though she was genuinely asking you. Her hand was still scratching the back of your neck, and her free hand reached up to rub soothing circles along your jugular with the pad of her thumb. Daniela’s compulsive attitude can lead her to doing whatever the hell she wanted without fear, but here she was, asking for your permission to drink from you. This redhead never failed to be full of surprises, and you found that you kinda liked that Daniela was so crazy for you.

“I belong to you,” You said quietly, unwilling to break the atmosphere that was enveloping the two of you, and you knew you said the right thing when her eyes shone with nothing but adoration and if you looked closer, love.

Daniela continued to cup the back of your neck with one hand, and used the other to hold you carefully by your shoulder, and she gently guided you to expose your throat just a bit more before she slowly bit into your throat. You gasped at the initial sting of your flesh giving way beneath the power of her teeth, but you allowed her to continue what she needed to do and permitted the subtle pull at your bloodstream. You felt the vibration of her own moan against your skin and it had you lightheaded.

“Daniela,” you groaned, feeling her teeth still inside of your skin with every syllable, and it also felt good when the hand on your shoulder rubbed down your arm and up your back.

“Does that feel good, darling?” pressed Daniela, unlatching just long enough to pull back and bat her eyelashes at you. “Do you love this as much as I do?”

Her tongue flattened against your bite mark, cleaning you of any trickling blood before she moved to the opposite side. She placed an open mouthed kiss there before she latched on once more, prompting your whole body to flinch within her grasp, but trust Daniela to hold on tight. It felt as though there would be a couple bruises by the time the next morning rolled around, but something told you that was a good thing to have within Castle Dimitrescu. It was like your own charm to ward off the evil that could lurk around the many hidden corridors.

You felt her pushing you back up against the table, and your foot brushed against the lid, causing it to scratch against the floor with an unflattering sound. The small of your back connected with the table, leaving you no more room to go backwards. Your hands flew to the edge as you used the table as support as Daniela basically leaned her full weight into you as she fed and marked you.

Your eyes flew open when she abruptly pulled away, her chin smeared with your blood and her eyes crazed with desire, but also soft with emotion and it was directed right at you. She never broke eye contact as she slowly dropped to her knees before you, and your breathing became irregular as she reached forward to push the end of your uniform up higher and higher until you had to shiver at how exposed you felt.

“Do you love me?” asked Daniela suddenly, bringing your wandering mind to a complete halt, and you looked down into her wide, almost innocent eyes as she stared earnestly up at you. “I never heard you say it to me.”

“I love you more than life itself,” You responded and you were surprised at just how honest it felt... You could die tomorrow and you’d have felt content enough to just allow it.

Daniela’s megawatt grin was so wide that you knew there was no way of it coming off anytime soon, not with the pure happiness radiating from it, and certainly not with the way it reached itself to her eyes. She giggled madly and soon it was the only indication of her because she disappeared beneath the skirt of your uniform and you jumped at the warm tongue that was persistent in searching your body. Your knuckles turned white as your grip on the table tightened and you lost yourself to the wetness of Daniela’s tongue on you, and you found that it was true...

No one could ever steal you away from the perfection that was Daniela. Not when she was the only one that could turn you on with a familiar severed head just inches away..

#bela dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu's daughters #lady alcina dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #resident evil village #resident evil 8

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justthehiddleswrites · 3 years

Text

Follow My Lead | Tom Hiddleston x OFC | Chapter 3 | Hello my sunshine boy

A/N: This will update every Thursday. There are 13 chapters. There are all sorts of kinds of D/s relationships. This is the one I choose to write this time.

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Vivian Swann)

Summary: Tom and Vivian have both been unlucky in love, searching for something outside of the bounds of a typical relationship. When the two of them connect via a dating app, Tom is introduced to the idea of being submissive to Vivian. Which is the one thing he never knew he needed. Under the firm hand of Vivian, Tom learns what it means to submit and Vivian learns what it means to be in a loving dominant relationship. But not everyone seems to understand what they have and the best intentions can destroy the strongest relationship.

This Chapter: Tom and Vivian slowly move forward and Tom discovers a thorn in his side named Benedict.

Warnings for story: Dominant/submissive relationship (sub!Tom), lots of smut including but not limited to: vaginal sex, oral sex (male and female receiving), edging, denial, teasing, use of restraints, spanking, multiple orgasm, anal play, use of toys.

Taglists are open! Please let me know if you wish to be added! Thank you for reading.

“You are positively glowing, Viv.” Her best friend Ashley commented as they sat down for lunch that Monday. “Don’t tell me you finally got laid. What has been seven, eight months?”

“Twenty-two, but who’s counting?” Vivian snapped back.

“You.” Ashley stabbed her fork at her. “So if it wasn’t sex, then what? Did you find a new esthetician? You have to give me the name. My pores are crying.”

“I found someone, but not an esthetician. A boy.” Vivian responded, coy, not wanting to reveal too much after just one date.

“A boy?” Ashley clapped her hands together in excitement.

Ashley’s perpetual joy could grate on Vivian’s nerves on worse days, but as her best friend throughout law school, she couldn’t imagine her life without Ash. Vivian shot her a glare.

“Yes.” She stabbed at her salad.

Ashley’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. “You mean a boy boy?”

“Possibly. We’ve only been on one date.” She held up a finger. “Before you ask, a normal ‘vanilla’ date. Dinner.”

“But…”

Viv smiled. “But there is a… a… quality about him. So full of life and stinking positive. It’s intoxicating.” She shivered, remembering that kiss.

“Anything else?” Ashley blinked at her, knowing there was more to tell.

“He is also drop dead gorgeous and an amazing kisser.”

“Details, or it didn’t happen. First off, tongue or no tongue?”

“Not telling.”

“Boo.” Ashley pouted. “Give me something. What celebrity does he look like?”

Vivian stopped chewing to stop herself from choking. What a loaded question.

“Tom Hiddleston.”

“Ooooh,” Ashley cooed. “He is so hot.”

“But enough about me,” Vivian changed the subject before Ashley pushed much further. “How are things with Eric?”

Ashley poked at her food. “Things are not. He ghosted me a week ago.”

Vivian’s phone buzzed. It was Tom. She said a silent prayer that she had labeled him in her phone as T and not his full name as Ashley leaned over to read the message.

Thinking about you. Already finished one book you recommended. Thank you for that. They have been most helpful.

She smiled at the message.

“Is that the boy?” Ashley craned her neck. “Let me see.”

Vivian flipped the phone around for her to read.

“Awww. He is just the cutest. When are you seeing him again?”

“He is calling tonight and I imagine we will make plans then.”

Ashley danced a bit in her chair. “I can’t wait to meet him.”

Tom ran double his usual miles that Monday morning. His body and brain were a jumble of nervous energy. He felt well… as giddy as a schoolboy. A feeling which had eluded him for quite some time. Once he returned and showered, he settled onto his couch with the second of the books Vivian suggested while listening to some music at a low volume. He ignored the buzz of messages on his phone until he finished the book.

Three missed messages and one phone call from Benedict. That man was like a dog with a bone for meddling and prying into Tom’s personal life. This had only gotten worse since Ben married and had kids. Now that he was coupled up, it seems Benedict was intent on getting Tom to the same status. Tom didn’t have the time, guts, or inclination to explain his desire for a relationship less ordinary. And reading those books only confirmed Tom’s suspicions about what he wanted.

He ignored Benedict and instead typed up a quick text to Vivian. She should be at lunch around now. While he waited for her to respond, Tom grabbed a script from the table and flipped it open. He wasn’t sure how he felt about starring in another period drama, but he promised his agent he would let them know yes or no by the end of the week.

There was a knock at his door. Tom opened the door. Benedict pushed his way into Tom’s home.

“You don’t write. You don’t call.” Benedict’s arms flailed about.

Tom frowned at his face. “Come on in, Ben. I’m not busy at all.” His voice oozed with sarcasm.

“If you answered your phone, I wouldn’t have to barge in like this. Hello.” Benedict continued to pace the floor.

“Hello.” Tom replied. He glanced into the living room and saw his stack of books in plain sight on the sofa. “Now what is so urgent it required you to come to my house in the middle of the day?”

“How did the date go?” Benedict flashed a gigantic smile at Tom.

Tom groaned and walked back into the living room. He shoved the books out of sight under a table. Benedict flopped down in their place.

“I’m not telling you.”

“Come on. I would tell you.” Benedict continued to smile as though he was a maniacal clown.

“Fortunately, I’m not you. Now if you please…” He gestured for the door. “… I have work to do.”

Tom shoved Benedict off the sofa and towards the door.

“Please something. A morsel. A tidbit.”

“Not even a scrap.”

“A name?” Benedict called out, a Hail Mary effort to extract something from his best friend. He can’t ever remember Tom being this tightlipped before.

“Vivian.”

“Last name?”

“None of your business. Goodbye Benedict.” Tom slammed the door in Ben’s face as he opened his mouth to say something.

Tom slumped onto the couch and stared down at the script he was reading. His phone buzzed.

Thinking about you too. Glad to hear about the reading. Talk to you soon.

Tom smiled and double checked to make sure his alarm was set for 10:55 that night. With a sigh, he grabbed the script and continued reading.

Vivian didn’t get home until almost 10:30 that night. The paralegal in charge of organizing the documents for her deposition tomorrow had up and quit, and she spent most of the day along with three first-year associates getting everything in order. Her body ached even after a quick shower, her brain was buzzing. It was also like that the day before depositions. She made a cup of tea and then settled into bed. Vivian tried reading, but her brain wouldn’t shut down. She didn’t keep a TV in the bedroom.

Her phone rang. Tom. Right on time.

“Hello?”

“Evening, darling.” His voice smooth and rich. Vivian’s shoulders relaxed. “How was your day?”

“Long. Yours?”

“Boring. Would you like to tell me about yours?”

“I don’t want to burden you.” Vivian pouted.

“I would be happy to listen.”

She perked up a bit and ranted about the kerfuffle that afternoon. Tom listened intently, interjecting words of encouragement along the way.

“It sounds like the whole thing is in your capable hands. I was wondering…” He paused. “Never mind.”

“No, what were you wondering about?”

“I was wondering if you would like to come over to my place and I could cook you dinner on Thursday.”

She smiled. “I would like that.” There was a pregnant pause over the line. She could sense his shyness and nerves through the phone. “Was there something else you wanted?”

Tom sighed into the phone. “Perhaps we could try a few things. Nothing sexual.” He quickly added. His stomach twisted into knots.

“I think that could happen. How about tomorrow I email you a list of some possibles and see what works for you?”

“Thank you. I would like that very much.” The pep in his voice returning. “I don’t want to keep you awake.”

“I wasn’t sleeping. I can’t get my mind to shut down.”

“Have you tried reading?”

“I can’t focus.”

Tom hesitated. “I could read to you.” His voice quiet.

“You would do that for me?”

“Yes. Would you like me to read to you?”

Vivian’s body warmed over. “I would like that very much.”

“Let’s see you’re reading Anna Karenina.” She could overhear shuffling as Tom moved to his bookshelf to find his copy. “What chapter?”

“Thirteen.”

Tom thumbed through the pages until he reached the spot.

He cleared his throat before he began. “After dinner, and till the beginning of the evening, Kitty was feeling a sensation akin to the sensation of a young man before a battle. Her heart throbbed violently, and her thoughts would not rest on anything. She felt…”

Tom got halfway through Chapter 14 before Vivian dozed off, her breath heavy and even over the phone. Tom ended the call and headed to his bedroom to sleep himself.

Vivian woke up early the next morning feeling refreshed. Her phone lay next to her on the bed. With a stretch, she rose and set about making breakfast and a cup of coffee. She hadn’t planned on falling asleep during Tom’s phone call, but his voice soothed and slowed down her brain. Which reminded her to open her laptop. She shot off a quick email to Tom giving him some ideas for Thursday.

This is a list of what may happen, not will happen.

Kneeling

Petting/stroking

Kissing

Shirt off (you)

Pants off (you, underwear stays on)

Referring to me as “ma’am”

symbol of ownership (cuffs/collar/leash)

Hair pulling/tugging

Pet name for you (boy, puppy, etc.)

She requested he let her know and to add anything for discussion, and they could talk about it more tonight. She requested he call again at 11. Vivian then clicked send and readied for the day.

The first thing Tom did when he woke that morning was check his email. He found Vivian’s and opened it.

His eyes widened as he read the list. He hadn’t thought about the idea of “ownership” yet. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for that just yet. But the kneeling, petting, and titles all sounded exciting. He shot back a response, letting Vivian know his preferences and then headed out for a run.

Vivian responded to Tom’s email during the lunch hour, saying they could talk more about it that night. She spent the rest of the afternoon in ongoing meetings on a new corporate fraud case her firm just took on.

Tom read a few scripts that morning, one a drama based on an obscure book he never heard of and another a romantic comedy. After a quick lunch and more pressure from Benedict via text, Tom grabbed for the third book Vivian recommended to him. He glanced at the title Leading and Supportive Love: The Truth about Dominant and Submissive Relationships by Chris Lyon. As he delved in, Tom realized how woefully inadequate his own research had been.

The more he read, the more Tom wanted this. How he wanted to surrender and submit within a lovely romantic relationship. He had always been attracted to strong women. However, Tom found time and time again that his girlfriends looked to him to initiate. And not just sex. And with that, the relationship soured as resentment and disappointment permeated on both sides. He resigned himself to settling, convinced what he wanted didn’t exist. and then he discovered the dominant/submissive relationship community. Too scared to hunt out a pro-domme, Tom settled on the dating profile on a vanilla website.

His alarm rang at 10:55 and he grabbed his copy of Anna Karenina and settled onto the couch to call Vivian.

Vivian settled into bed ahead of Tom’s phone call. She planned on asking him to read to her again. He called at exactly 11 again and she wondered if he stared at his phone waiting for the minutes to count down.

“Hello my sunshine boy.” She greeted him.

Tom smiled. “Sunshine boy?” his tone not accusatory but questioning.

“Because you are as golden and bright as the sun.”

“I like that. I enjoy being your warmth and sunshine.”

“Good, because it’s your pet name now. Speaking of…. Thursday.”

“Right.” Tom squirmed. Thursday was a big day. “Tell me how it will work.”

“So we will establish the rules and protocols tonight, and they are in place until I leave. Anything on the list is fair game. I expect you to comply with my requests. If there is anything not on the list we wish to explore, consent and discussion will happen beforehand. If at any point, you feel uncomfortable and wish to disengage, you can use a safety word. What would you like your safety word to be?”

“Sushi.” Tom responded. “That all sounds fine. And I should call you…”

“Ma’am for now.” She smiled. “Now will you read for me again, please?” Her tone gentle but firm.

“Yes, ma’am.” he tried it out. It felt nice. “Where did I leave off?”

“Please.”

Tom grabbed his book and flipped it open to where he marked his spot with a bookmark. “That must be Vronsky, thought Levin, and, to be sure of it, glanced at Kitty. She had already had time to look at Vronsky, and looked round to Levin. And simply from the look in her eyes, that grew unconsciously brighter, Levin knew that she loved that man, knew it as surely as if she had told him so in words.”

Vivian dozed off soon after Tom began, and he ended the call before falling asleep on the couch himself.

Wednesday seemed to drag for both of them in anticipation for Thursday night. Tom busied himself with cleaning his house, which had grown cluttered now that he was back living there full time. In between the mopping of the floors and shoving a third load of laundry in the washer, Tom finished up the third and fourth books Vivian told him to read. He had two left. Tom also made a special trip to the store and gathered the ingredients for dinner. He was tempted to make Bolognese but thought Italian two dates in a row might be a bit much and instead settled on a lovely roast dinner with all the fixings. Tom even went so far as to call his mother for tips.

“Trying to impress a girl, I take it?” Diana Hiddleston mused as she explained how to make Yorkshire pudding.

“A woman, Mother.” he corrected her. “She’s not just some girl.”

“Clearly if you are contemplating baking for her. I hope she is worth all this trouble.”

“It’s no trouble.” Tom scribbled down notes in handwriting he was certain to be unable to decipher later. “Now for a pudding…”

Diana chuckled as she listed off a few simple recipes for Tom to try.

Vivian left work two hours early on Thursday in order to get and ready and head over to Tom’s in time. He texted her the address that morning. He continued to call her at 11 and read to her every night. It was a small comfort, and she looked forward to it every evening.

Her fingers ran along the clothes hanging in her wardrobe, contemplating how dressy to go. She lighted on a long floral cotton maxi dress with a high slit on the side. Vivian paired with a wedge and a light jacket and grabbed her phone and purse before catching an Uber over to Tom’s.

Tom couldn’t remember the last time his palms sweated before a date. But they were and causing him to bobble in the kitchen, nearly dumping all the roasted potatoes on the ground. He was just pulling out the Yorkshire puddings when his doorbell rang.

Tom sprung into action, running to the door, shedding the apron along the way and smoothing down the front of his button-down shirt. He opened the door to find Vivian standing there smiling.

“Evening,” he started, smiling. “ma’am.” he added quickly.

“That’s my sunshine boy.” she responded, stepping into his foyer. She grabbed him by the back of neck and kissed him. Tom’s hand landed on her shoulders. She pulled him forward twice by the neck as they kissed before releasing him.

“Allow me to take your jacket, ma’am.” Tom moved to behind Vivian and waited until she nodded before slipping it off her shoulders and hanging it on a nearby hook.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Care for a tour?” He extended his arm towards the living room.

“Lead the way.” She reached out and held onto the back of his neck before sliding it down to the small of his back. He shivered at her touch. “Okay?” She checked in with him.

“Fine. I just… I’m not used to people touching me there.” he replied, shy and self-conscious.

“If it makes you uncomfortable, use your word.” She used her other hand to smooth down his hair.

“Yes, ma’am. I like it.”

“Then I’ll keep doing it.”

Tom smiled as she smoothed down his hair and he continued with the tour. Vivian took in every inch of Tom’s home. It was clean and well furnished. She enjoyed the large bookcase covering an entire wall in his study, along with an impressive DVD collection. She spied a few family photos in the bedroom on the dresser in front of his king size bed. They returned to the kitchen right as the oven timer went off.

Tom stepped away and grabbed an oven mitt and pulled his tart from the oven. Vivian glanced over his shoulder to see a full roast dinner, Tom had gone all out for her.

“I’m impressed, good job.” She kissed his cheek.

He blushed at her praise. “I may have gone a bit overboard.”

“Nonsense. Now get me a glass of wine please.” She directed before sitting down at the table Tom had set.

“Red, white, or I have champagne, ma’am?” He stood by the fridge, waiting.

Vivian wrinkled her nose. “Champagne makes me sneeze. Red.”

Tom nodded and grabbed a bottle from the counter which he opened and poured them both a glass. He handed Vivian’s hers first before setting his on the table and returning to the kitchen. Vivian slid his glass over to her side of the table and sipped hers. Tom had great taste in wine.

He returned to the table and set her plate down for her and then himself before sitting. Tom glanced around for his glass of wine.

“No wine for you tonight.”

Tom opened his mouth and contemplated his next words as Vivian sipped her wine, staring at him. “Yes, ma’am.” He sounded disappointed but pulled his glass of water close.

Vivian reached out and stroked his arm. “Don’t worry, my sunshine boy, there will still be plenty of fun to be had.” He perked up a bit. “How is your reading going?”

Tom finished chewing before answering. “Great. I am on book number 4. Just two more to go and then my 500 word essay. May I write more than 500 words?”

“Yes, but no more than a 1000.”

Tom nodded and Vivian tucked into the roast. It was juicy and seasoned to perfection. “Whose recipe did you steal?”

“My mother’s.” Tom replied. “Excuse me for a moment.” He stood and left for the kitchen, returning with a gravy boat and the bottle of wine. He held up the gravy. “May I, ma’am?”

“Yes please.” She held up her plate to close the distance. Tom poured a healthy amount of gravy on the plate before serving himself. “And your work? Your scripts?”

Tom sat back down. “Tedious. If I am not playing a spy, they want me to play a stuffed shirt in a cravat and waistcoat.”

“I bet you are dashing in a cravat and waistcoat.” She smirked at him, aware Tom would be dashing in a potato sack and tissue boxes.

“There is one that caught my eye. I wondered if you like to take a look at it.”

“What kind of movie?”

“Romantic comedy.”

Vivian giggled. “Do they still make those?”

Tom narrowed his eyes for a moment. “Yes. Would you like to take a look? Ma’am?”

“Maybe later.” She sipped her wine. Tom held the bottle up. “No, thank you. I have work tomorrow.”

Tom nodded and set the bottle down. “How are the depositions going?”

“As well as can be expected, but this case isn’t won or lost through depositions.”

“How is it then?”

“By who blinks first.” She deadpanned. “And I am a world class champion in staring contests.”

Tom shook his head, taking his last bite of potato before standing to clear the plates. “Remind me never to cross you.”

Vivian leaned back in her chair. “I guarantee in six months you will beg me to punish you.”

She chuckled as the plates clattered in the sink before he turned on the water to let them soak during dessert. Vivian enjoyed pushing when the mood suited her. And Tom suited her just fine.

He returned with his Bakewell tart, two plates and forks. “I noticed you didn’t eat much of the chocolate dessert on Sunday.”

“It was fine, but not my favorite. Thank you for noticing.”

Tom cut up the tart and served up a small slice to Vivian and took a larger piece for himself.

“Don’t you worry about gaining weight?” she questioned.

“I run at least three miles a day, although since I met you that has doubled. And I have a fast metabolism. It is very hard for me to put on muscle mass. Ask my trainer.”

“I just might.” She took a bite and moaned. “Delicious.”

Tom licked his lips and took a bite, moaning. “That is delicious.” he mumbled, his mouth full.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” She pointed a finger at him.

“Yes, ma’am. Sorry.” He covered his mouth and swallowed.

“You don’t need to apologize, Tom.” Vivian reached out and rubbed his arm. “Fix it the next time.”

Tom leaned into her hand. “Yes, ma’am.”

Vivian ate most of her dessert while Tom polished his off.

“All done?”

She wiped her mouth and finished up her wine. “Yes, thank you. That was delicious. I need you to cook for me more often.”

Tom chuckled as he cleared the plates. “I’ll keep that in mind. If you like, you can take a seat in the living room while I clean up.”

“I’d rather stay in here with you.”

“Of course.” He hustled over to the sink and turned on the water. He rinsed the plates and utensils while Vivian sat at the table and watched. She took the sight of his backside in the jeans he selected for the evening. Very nice. She couldn’t wait to redden those cheeks when the time came.

She stood and joined him after Tom put away the leftovers and turned his attention to the pans. As he scrubbed, Vivian came up behind him and petted the back of his head and neck. He leaned against her hand and Vivian swore he purred.

“That feels nice, ma’am.” he hummed, but not stopping his washing.

“Finish up and come to the living room, sunshine boy.”

She tugged his hair once before releasing his hair and walking out of the kitchen. Vivian surveyed his DVDs while Tom finished up. She could hear the water turn off and the pans clanging together as he put them away. Vivian remained standing.

Tom walked into his own living room as though he were a stranger. His hands fidgeting in front of him.

“I won’t bite, Thomas.” she smirked. “At least I won’t bite tonight.”

Tom gulped and shifted his weight. “Yes, ma’am.”

She circled him like an animal on the prowl. Her fingers ran along the width of his shoulders. He shivered again. Vivian stopped and took a step back.

“Are you still doing okay?”

“I’m fine.” He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Please don’t stop.” His blue eyes begged her to touch him again.

She nodded and slid her hand down his back before bringing it up his neck and into his hair.

“Take off your shirt.”

Tom hesitated for a moment before unbuttoning his shirt. He pulled it off and tossed it onto a nearby chair.

“Fold it and place it on the table.”

Tom’s mouth dropped open, and he stood still. Vivian walked in front of him.

“I don’t enjoy repeating myself, sunshine.”

Tom scrambled into action. “Yes, ma’am.” He folded the shirt like they would in a retail store and then spun in place. There were three tables in the room.

“The small one with the lamp, please.” Tom sighed in relief and placed his shirt down.

“On the couch, on your back, hands behind your head.”

Vivian leaned down to unbuckle her wedges, slipping them off and placing them by the armchair. Tom positioned himself on the couch, taking up the entire length. Vivian licked her lips at the sight of Tom. The hint of chest hair. His Adonis belt and treasure trail. She made a mental list of things to do in the future to Tom.

She hitched her skirt up to straddle Tom’s torso. “No touching.”

Tom nodded eagerly. “Yes, ma’am.”

Vivian leaned down to his face, her hands slid up his bare chest to his neck. One hand pressed Tom’s shoulder into the cushions while the other cupped his cheeks. Her thumbs ran along his sharp cheekbones before reaching the temples. Vivian’s fingers laced into Tom’s hair and then she tugged him into her.

Tom’s lips sighed into her. Vivian took the opportunity to slip her tongue into his mouth. He wiggled underneath her but his hands stayed behind his head. She pulled back and Tom leaned forward, wanting more.

“Do you want more?” she teased. Her hand firmly in his hair.

“Yes, ma’am.” He panted.

“Beg.” She tugged his head towards her, stopping just short.

“Please!” He begged not only with his words but his eyes too. “Please kiss me, ma’am.”

She tugged his head around again and pressed her lips against his. He breathed into her and she slipped her tongue in again. Tom did the same. He wiggled underneath her again. Vivian stopped, and shifted her position, her knees on Tom’s chest, her toes teasing along his crotch. His pants tenting from the feel of things.

They continued kissing like that for some time and Tom stopped wiggling. She pulled away, Tom leaned forward, wanting more.

“More, please, ma’am.” he pleaded.

Vivian pushed off of him. Her hand skimmed along his cock. It twitched under her touch and Tom moaned.

“No, not tonight. Sit up, please.” Vivian stood. Tom sat up, his lips swollen. His eyes glassy.

Vivian sat down at one end of the couch and settled in. “Kneel.”

“Yes ma’am.” He slid down the couch to kneel on the carpet by Vivian’s leg. “Never imagined anyone would say that to me.” he commented.

“Get used to it, sunshine.” She smoothed down his rumpled hair. He leaned against her legs at her touch, pressing his side against him. Vivian smiled as Tom hummed while Vivian continued to stroke and pet his hair and neck. She scratched his scalp, and he gasped.

“You’re such a good boy, sunshine.” Vivian purred. “My good boy.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Vivian looked around the room and spied a small bookcase stuffed to the brim with books.

“Read to me, Thomas. Please”

He stood, not ready to miss out on Vivian touching him. He reached for Anna Karenina. Vivian touched his arm.

“No, something from your bookcase. Surprise me.”

Tom walked over to the bookcase and examined the shelves before selecting a small notebook.

“It’s a collection of poems.” he offered, he ran his finger along the spine.

“Perfect.” Vivian beckoned him back. “Kneel and read to me, please.”

Tom’s face lit up, and he resumed his position, head leaning against Vivian’s lap.

Tom cleared his throat and Vivian’s hand laced back through his hair and his shoulders relaxed. “Leda and the Swan by William Butler Yeats.”

“Interesting choice.”

“A sudden blow: the great wings beating still Above the staggering girl, her thighs caressed By the dark webs, her nape caught in his bill, He holds her helpless breast upon his breast.”

After he finished the first poem, Vivian asked him to read another and then a third. His eyes closed as her hands continued to smooth and stroke his head. Tom’s body hummed. He felt… safe. Like he was home and everything would be alright.

Vivian feared he had fallen asleep. “Thomas?” she whispered.

“Yes, ma’am?” He turned his head.

“You okay?”

He nodded. “Better than okay.”

“Stand up, please.” Tom stood. “It’s time for me to go home. Walk me to the door.”

Tom’s head dropped but nodded. Vivian lingered by the front door. Her finger drawing intricate circles on his chest.

“That was…” Tom’s chest heaved as he put Vivian’s jacket on her. His body ached as though he ran fifty miles. Tom’s brain felt fuzzy and heavy. His heart full and content.

“Yeah,” Vivian finished his sentence. “For me too, sunshine boy.” She reached up and cupped his cheek with one hand, he leaned his head into her, wanting to kiss her palm but not daring to do so.

With her shoes back on her feet, she stood almost as tall as Thomas. She pecked his lips, soft and sweet and Tom returned the kiss in kind. Her stomach fluttered.

“I would like to do this again.” Tom commented as they parted.

“I was hoping you would. How would you feel about having a kissing date on Saturday night? I’m afraid I’m busy tomorrow.”

“What’s a kissing date?”

Vivian pecked his lips and rubbed his neck one more time before opening the door. Tom stumbled forward, craving her skin on his.

“I’ll text you the protocols tomorrow morning. Sleep well, sunshine.” One more kiss and then the door shut behind her.

Tom leaned against the wall, clutching his chest. He didn’t know if he would last until Saturday.

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston smut #tom hiddleston x ofc #sub!tom #follow my lead #hiddlestoners #hiddlesfic

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rvmmm21 · 4 years

Text

. you’re a monster .

summary : “what will you do when you’re knocked out in an alleyway and wake up tied to a bed. what next, hm?” the demon’s question rings in her head the entire time she’s being pleasured beyond comprehension. Kang Seulgi begs and pleads, and she reluctantly finds the answer.

small note : forgive the appalling pacing. sorry if i misinterpreted this and it was meant to be soft-ish, but when i saw monster i just went oh cool HARD-ish. also never thought i’d write seulrene but hey! first! i’m so sorry to all the seulgi stans out there, i know she’s soft but i... i saw ‘monster themed’ and i went :o i will softly make it up to you if i get another seulgi ask, i promise! also soft seul stans pls don’t read this if... um you’re not comfy with the concept. it’s hardcore.

[seulrene - demon!irene x human!seulgi]

tw : NONcon, overstimulation, light bondage, and the flippant overuse of the word ‘no’.

...

She tries to roll over in an attempt to relieve that dull ache in her shoulders, but to her dampened shock, finds she can do nothing more than shift about a millimetre away before being pulled back down. Numbness gives way to an accelerated heart-rate as she realises her predicament; with both wrists and ankles securely bound to a cold, metallic bed frame, she’s completely immobile. She gives an experimental tug to find that: the bedposts are dreadfully sturdy, and her binds are surprisingly soft and velvety. Like royal silk, she thinks, but in this light, or lack thereof, it’s impossible to tell.

O-Oh my god what’s happened? Where… where the heck am I?

The air is thick and heavy, but that’s not why Kang Seulgi is choking.

“How lovely. It’s been a while since I’ve had a human.”

The words smoothly puncture her focus; nonchalant and detached. It matches the smile playing on the blood-red lips she can just about see through the fog in her vision. That stare, those eyes; horribly searching, dark and sharp enough to pierce. And it pierces her to the point where it feels like she isn’t wearing any –

Wait. Where are her clothes? Any of them?

She’s stark naked. And it’s a shocking revelation, but the dipping of the mattress on either side really doesn’t grant any time to ponder. A shiver runs through her when two smooth hands start to explore her body without her permission; squeezing her, violating her. She realises just how unforgiving the restraints are when she instinctually struggles, kicks, does whatever to try to get them to stop. But the weight straddling her remains unmovable, and it just mocks her panicked writhing with a laugh like she’s never heard before. It’s undeniably a woman’s, but there’s something about it that makes Seulgi squint maladjusted eyes to sharpen the edges of the silhouette above her. Despite the intrusive groping, it’s slowly taking shape; it is a woman. And she’s drop-dead gorgeous, unfortunately. With long, pin-straight black hair, milky white skin, a deadly scarlet smirk and… when her top lip curls up just right… oh god… are those… does she see fangs?!

That not-so-subtle detail is enough to force the girl out of stunned silence.

A terrified shriek is followed by a breathless – “W-Who – what are you?!”

The hands stop. Everything does, for a while. And then there’s another laugh before her apparent captor ever so gracefully introduces herself.

“Sweetie, you don’t know me. Nor I you, for that matter…” her voice drips like molten lava, bright and scorching all the same, “… but that’s what we’re here for, isn’t it?”

Her response is overtaken by an almost dry heave when the demon woman above her sounds like she’s lecturing a rebellious 16-year-old.

“Pft, mortals,” she scoffs absentmindedly, rolling her eyes as if the human race is the most bewildering thing she’s ever come across. That’s before her tone turns into something sinister. “Living with your little blinkers on, walking home well past sundown, all alone and vulnerable. Never thinking about what happens if you catch someone’s eye… if you’re too adorable to resist? What will you do when you’re knocked out in an alleyway and wake up tied to a bed? What next, huh?”

The irony isn’t lost on Seulgi, and the gentle caress on her cheek does little to settle her terror.

“But lucky for me, humans don’t think like that, do they?”

“… y-you’re a – a m-monster…” Seulgi spits, trying to sound bigger than she currently feels. But it sounds more like a shaky whisper than an accusation, and it only succeeds in stretching that soul-eating grin wider than she’d ever thought possible.

A sinister, throaty laugh takes a rake down her ears and sends an uncomfortable chill prickling across her skin. “Oh, we haven’t even begun yet, darling… why don’t you save those lovely little nicknames for when you really need them, hm? Tell you what, you can call me Joohyun for now.”

The demon taps her on the nose in fake reward.

Seulgi isn’t even aware she’s squirming until she feels a cold hand clamp down on her left knee and shove it flat on the mattress with a dark chuckle. “Now, now, I’d conserve that energy if i were you… trust me, it’ll be gone before you know it.”

“… n-no! … get… get me out, let me go!” Seulgi screams, using all her strength to yank at the material keeping her captive.

Something in her hamster-beating heart drops with all her hopes when a pair of lips plant themselves on her cheek, ignoring the way she reels back in horror. “Run that pretty mouth all you want,” Joohyun sneers, eyes trailing downwards “... your body seems to know what it wants.”

What on earth does that mean? Seulgi is twisting around now, but Joohyun takes hold of her hips, pinning her down despite her futile attempts at freedom.

And then she finds the answer to her question.

The depravity of the situation weighs on her all at once when two fingers drag along the length of her slit, making her flinch. She sees them held up in front of her face, all slick coated. Just from that. When her mind goes blank, it shows. Enough for Joohyun’s determination to skyrocket and for long fingers to find their way back to the girl’s dripping entrance, teasing their way in slowly, curling them upwards. The look in her eyes, now the colour of glowing ember, as Seulgi’s body is forcibly provoked is almost playful.

Oh my gosh why… why does it feel like that… why does it feel… good. Of course, that’s something Seulgi is fully intent on keeping to herself, but she’s clearly not having much luck. Not while she’s rolling her eyes back, not while she’s failing to conceal those increasingly desperate sounding pants leaving lips she can’t seem to keep together… much like her legs. Joohyun just teases her some more, smiling at how painfully obvious it is that her little human is trying her hardest to convince herself she doesn’t want this.

She breaks sooner than expected.

Seulgi finds herself bucking up against it before she can stop, spreading further open so Joohyun’s warm, eager tongue has access to her sensitive clit, pressing on it, sucking it, just driving her insane. She’s grinding against the mouth as much as her binds will allow, thighs trembling violently with strain, but ugh – it’s worth every tremor.

“… wait – ah! Oh gosh! I –” The pressure on her clit increases to where it drives a keening whine from her throat, locking all her muscles in place as Joohyun draws out the first orgasm of the night.

The human barely has time to recover from the initial wave of orgasmic bliss before the demon is lazily undressing, only enough to reveal the textured length between her legs. Seulgi cranes her neck up, eyes instantly bulging at the latex. It’s somewhat hilarious that this… demon of a woman in all her hellish majesty has to brandish a fake cock. A small part of her wants to laugh at – oh god but she can’t – she can’t even think without moaning when said fake cock buries itself into her. It bottoms out with such ease it pulls out a painfully choked sob instead of any snide remark about the ability to ‘pound her into submission without the use of a strap-on’.

No. What is she doing? No, no, no... this is far too much to handle.

The darkness spins above her, as stupid as it sounds, it does. And that’s all she can stare up into. It’s dizzying, but she’s already tried looking down, and let’s just say the nauseating spin is much less… intense.

She’s so wet, Joohyun has no problem starting hard and fast, fucking her deep into the mattress, pushing past the initial squeeze of her walls and pounding into her with nothing less than pure animalistic force. And the human beneath her seems to be enjoying it too. Joohyun knows if her precious little human could see what she looks like taking her cock so well, she’ll flush a shade even pinker than the rose quartz blush trailing up her neck right now.

Poor Seulgi cries out, desperately trying to bring her knees together, but Joohyun catches them, keeping her spread with a demonic strength she can only dream of challenging. She knows she’s found her clit when she’s rewarded with a sharp hiss, and it only takes a couple of brisk taps on it before Seulgi’s walls are clenching down. She’s torn between screaming for it to stop, and ask - no, begging to let her cum again.

It’s horribly humiliating to consider, but she has to wonder whether it’s her begging or her crying that drives the demon harder.

“… J-Joohyun! I’m…” – but that’s all she gets out before she’s turning away to sink her teeth into her shoulder in the hopes of dulling the devastatingly intense sensation of multiple orgasms.

Sweet baby, Joohyun thinks as she watches her thrash and tremble and then go almost completely limp, my sweet little human, so breakable and so, so overwhelmed. She just smiles at Seulgi’s gasp when she swiftly replaces the sensation of the strap with those familiar fingers.

“… no, please… no – no more…”

It’s so much more fun having her humans ungagged, free to beg to their little hearts’ content. Because she adores hearing pitiful pleas dissolve into pained whimpering with a flick of her tongue or just a little more pressure behind her thumb. Joohyun finds it the funniest thing to watch human instincts in action; knowing it’s pointless, but still wasting their breath trying to reason with the cause of their suffering. The knowledge that her victim is too drained to fight back is an absolute blessing. The power she possesses is immeasurable and downright thrilling.

“… oh please, please Joohyun – don’t make – ah! – not… not again, I – I can’t, please…”

But she’s helpless and she doesn’t get to decide when she stops, if she’ll ever. That’s up to Joohyun. And what Joohyun wants to do is keep fucking her well past her breaking point, she wants to keep teasing her overstimulated clit, she wants to torture her for as long as she can, either until she gets bored or the human passes out.

And she’s proud to admit, those struggles are definitely weaker than before.

Delirious Seulgi doesn’t even notice the fingers pumping in and out of her speeding up over the sound of her moans, increasing in frequency. This is about to be her… what, her fifth? Eighth? God, she doesn’t know… nor can she find the head space to care, really. Her mind is so blissed out from how rapidly she’s being fucked, to the relentless sucking on her sore, swollen clit, that she’s barely even aware she’s tipping over the edge.

Joohyun wears an evilly triumphant grin as she does. “That’s it, give it to me. My sweet little mortal.”

Still, Seulgi manages to rasp a weak – “… m-monster…” before she does, trying her best to put some bite behind the word. But it’s almost impossible to when she’s torn apart yet again, jerking and twitching as Joohyun’s mouth cruelly steals another orgasm from her. There can be no venom behind those adorable, breathless whimpers that grow quieter and quieter until there’s no more resistance. None at all.

Poor thing, she didn’t even know that would be her last one.

Soft breathing, tear-stained cheeks and eyes rolled back in her skull; Joohyun observes her wreck of a human, beautiful and unconscious because of her. She can’t even put a pretty name to an even prettier face yet, but she’s not worried in the slightest.

They have plenty of time for that.

#red velvet #red velvet smut #seulrene #seulgi #irene #monster #smut #red velvet scenarios #red velvet imagines #i'm sorry seulgi stans #why have i gotten significantly worse with titling?#kpop scenarios #girl group scenarios

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ashtonangst · 4 years

Text

Bet. / Ashton Irwin

Hello friends and welcome to ashtonangst’s first ever full on smut! This was something I typed up at midnight, during my prime thirst hours. Thanks to @kindahoping4forever for proofing it for me and hyping me up xoxo luv u

Word Count: 2.6k

Rating: R

Warnings: blink-and-you’ll-miss-it masturbation and daddy kink; dirty talk; oral (m+f receiving); teasing; unprotected sex in a committed relationship

Let me know what you think!

----------------------

The book sat heavy in your lap. Unopened, begging to be read. The fantasies within its pages were nothing compared to the ones you couldn’t stop thinking about.

It was a dare. You were fed up with Ashton’s incessant need to be fucked (not that you protested often). It was as if his hands had a libido of their own. You’d dared him to go one week without touching you--or himself. General displays of affection were permissible, but absolutely nothing sexual. The winner of this dare would choose what the other did to them. When you gave him this challenge, you knew he would cave. He always does. Except this time it was different.

After a year together you knew what made each other tick. You shared the same fantasies and carried these out often. This time, Ashton decided to use this knowledge to his advantage. He started walking around in nothing but his (and your) favorite pair of lounging shorts. He made a show of adjusting himself to let you know he wasn’t wearing any underwear. Then, in his practice sessions, he invited you to watch, knowing how much you loved to watch him make perfect rhythms from his head. He waited until you were up and focused on other things to go for his daily canyon jog. He made a show of stretching (his “warm ups”) in that tank top--the white one that he knew drove you mad--until you were practically drooling at the sight of his muscles flexing under the fabric.

One particular day, closer to when the tension was so thick you almost thought you could give in, he caught you ogling at the combination he’d chosen for his workout: the dreaded white tank and the tightest pair of black athletic shorts he owned, a combination that was sure to send warmth between your thighs.

“Like what you see, love?” he smirked, choosing his playlist for the workout.

“I always do, but don’t think you’re gonna win this one this time, baby,” you retort, trying not to stare as he made his way over to stand next to you while he prepared his water bottle. He chuckles softly, screwing the lid onto the container and flexing at the same time. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you trying to get me to cave. My willpower has always been stronger than yours, you know this.”

“I know,” he breathes, coming to stand behind your chair at the kitchen island where you were enjoying your morning coffee. “But never underestimate a man’s desire to have his girlfriend writhing under him in complete and total ecstasy,” he places kisses up and down your neck in the process--just barely staying within the guidelines of the dare. “I can’t wait to have you screaming for my cock...begging me to fuck you raw because you were just too fucking greedy to win at your own game and you’re mad that I haven’t let you cum all night.” He leans up, walking towards the door and grabbing his belongings. You frustratedly sigh at his absence, the filthy words that came from his mouth only seconds before making you want just that--right then and there.

That’s how you ended up trying to read the latest novel on your list to distract yourself from the growing need you felt deep in the pits of your stomach. The further your eyes scanned the pages, the more the words ran together, eventually forming pages and pages of black lines. Between those lines was Ashton, his cock hitting in those just-right places, coaxing you to your fifth orgasm. Eventually you blink yourself out of this fantasy.

You were the one who suggested this little game, you weren’t about to lose at your own game. That was until you found your hand traveling farther and farther down your body, until it disappeared under the waistband of your panties, finding your clit with ease. As you slowly started to rub yourself, you’re drawn out of your own fantasies by the sound of Ashton’s keys jingling in the lock. You quickly compose yourself, and before he has the door open you’re waltzing into the kitchen to place your mug in the sink. You give him a coy smile, “hi, darling. Looks like your workout went well.”

“It was very nice, thanks for asking. I kind of bit myself in the ass, though, from my stunt this morning. I couldn’t stop thinking about licking your pussy until you’re cumming all over my mouth.”

You look up at him with wide eyes before a smirk forms on your lips. “Ashton Irwin, are you admitting defeat?”

His shoulders hang in mock surrender. “Only if it means that part of your punishment for losing the bet is that I get to taste that sweet pussy of yours.”

You slowly approach him, giving him the same lust-filled eyes he’s giving you. “Think about how good I taste while you’re showering. Then I’ll think about letting you eat my pussy.” He hums with lust thick in his throat as he heads toward the shower. You smile to yourself, knowing you’re not going to give up so quickly.

You’re nowhere to be found when he’s showered from his late-morning jog. You’re out grabbing the groceries he forgot to pick up, he thinks. He also wonders if he’ll have time to hide the evidence if he spurts his own load all over his clean shirt, his shorts, and the sheets. Just as you had been so rudely interrupted earlier, he, too, found himself scrambling to act casual as he heard the sliding door to the garden snap shut. He smiles at you as you make your way back into the shared bedroom. “I wasn’t admitting defeat, you know. Just letting you know what I’m going to do to you once I win our bet.”

You give him a curt smile. “Fine, let’s add three more days onto this bet.”

______

The week passes with relatively little tension. Sure, it’s always there, but the two of you were too stubborn to admit defeat and give into your own desires that the bet was still on and going strong. That is, until you hear Ashton’s weak groans as he’s in the shower. You immediately know that he’s launching weak spurts of his cum onto the shower wall. He’s caved. You knew he always would. You pity him, really.

You were getting close to inserting your own two fingers into your warm and aching pussy at this thought when you decided to make his punishment an anti-punishment--reward him for holding off for a whole week with the promise of your sweet, sweet pussy on his tongue at the end of it.

As always, he’s only wearing a towel when he emerges from the steamy room. “Enjoy your shower this morning, baby?” You know the answer to this question, but he still stops dead in his tracks. “I at least hope you rinsed your cum off of the wall. That shit’s a bitch to clean once it’s dry.”

He turns slowly on one heel. “Do you think this is fun? Is this your sadistic way to prove to me that you’re the dominant one in this relationship? Daddy gets to touch himself any fucking time he wants to.” The switch had flipped. He tried to be submissive to the woman who makes his heart soar--to make her happy, to fulfill all of her desires--but he needed her too badly. He had to have his way, that’s just how it’s been the entirety of your sexual relationship.

You gulp, unsure of what to respond. You notice he’s begun to grow hard again, and finally admit that he’s too sure of himself to let you win this game. You both want it now, you’re both going to get it now. He turns to dig through his drawers, searching for an outfit for the day. “Let me help you, baby,” you speak, but it’s barely audible over his rummaging. You come off of the bed and pad closer to him until you’re standing behind him, kissing his back. “Come to the bed, please, baby.” He turns and looks at you, lust and exhaustion clouding his eyes. He bounds over to the mattress, deciding to stand instead of sit. “I know you're tired of my game. Truce?”

He nods quietly, and the silence is deafening. He’s not going to give you the satisfaction of winning, but he’ll take the loser's prize. Never breaking eye contact, you sink lower until you’re eye-level with his now fully hard cock. He watches in silent awe as you salivate when you finally drop the towel he’d loosely tied around his hips. His cock springs free, the tip red and needy despite his quick jerk in the shower only minutes before. You take it in your hand, its weight fits nicely in your hand, your favorite feeling. You look at him watching you as you lick a thick stripe up the underside of his cock, making it twitch on your tongue. You hum as you take him fully into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you take every inch of him.

He’s amazed. He loves that pretty mouth of yours, and fuck, does he love having his cock put in it. He gathers your hair into a loose ponytail, just enough for him to see the tears develop in the corners of your eyes. Your free hand fondles his balls, just the way he likes, causing his hips to snap, pushing his cock deeper into your throat. You pull off of it with a breath, a string of spit connecting your chin and his tip. With doe eyes you rasp, “fuck my face, you earned it.” He groans in delight, his cock twitching in your hand for the umpteenth time. He tightens his grip in your hair, causing your scalp to sting.

He puts the feelings of the past week into every thrust into your throat. He watches the tears fall from your cheeks, but the hum in the bottom of your throat tells him you’re enjoying this, too. His thrusts become sloppy, his moans growing louder. You feel his cock jerk on your tongue in the same instant that he’s pushing your head still on his cock. His load comes hot, thick, and with loud moans of praises and thanks. You stand, humming with pleasure as you wipe the last bit of his cum from your chin. He’s breathless, but the look on his face tells you he’s far from spent.

“Lay down. Strip. Spread,” he gruffs out. This is a new reaction that sends sparks through your body. You quickly oblige, excited for his repayment. As soon as he catches a glimpse of your glistening pussy, he’s holding down your hips in preparation for his assault. “So wet for me, baby. You haven’t touched yourself, not even once, this whole week? What a shame, such a pretty pussy,” he tuts, running a finger through your slick folds and taking your nipple between his teeth, sucking harshly. He lets go with a loud pop, but follows it with firm slaps to each sensitive breast, earning a whimper from your lips. “I bet you thought about this every day...having my cock so deep in you you can feel me in your stomach...crying out, begging me to let you sit on my face. Fuck me, baby, you’re gorgeous. So wet, so needy for me. Where’s that dominant spirit that was here last week? She saw Daddy’s hard cock and got greedy. Needed me to touch her and wouldn’t tell me. Pitiful.” You can only respond to his words with whimpers, a stark contrast from the filth that you spewed to get him riled up.

“Ash...please...I need it...need your tongue, your cock...please.” You’re writhing under him, just as he imagined. He only gives a smile before diving in between your thighs. He hums when your fingers pull immediately at his scalp as he begins to suck harshly on your clit. He alternates between this movement and licking wide strips up the length of your pussy. You’ve begun to squirm more than he likes, so he wraps both arms over your thighs to hold them in place. He darts his tongue into your hole before deciding quickly to assault your clit and leave the rest up to his expert fingers. He knows you always beg for more when he begins with one finger, so he thrusts three fingers into you from the get, curling them up to hit your g-spot with each thrust. He moves his fingers and tongue faster when he hears your whimpers of praise fall from your lips. He knows you’re close, you’re clenching on his fingers so hard that he can hardly move them. Fuck, he wishes that was his cock. He feels it tremble again, a painful reminder that his needs were far from met. Your quiet moans turn into screams as his quiet hums turn into vibrating groans against your throbbing clit.

“Good girl...cum on my fingers for me...jus’ like that,” he coos as he feels your fingers dig into his scalp. He resumes his onslaught just in time for your first orgasm to hit. He licks your pussy clean, and by the time the stars have faded and the sounds of the room have floated back into your ears, he’s grabbing his long-forgotten towel to quickly wipe anything that his tongue couldn’t clean.

Without warning, his elbows are next to your ears as he pushes your thighs apart to settle between them. You can feel his needy cock brushing against your stomach. He swipes the head between your folds only once before bottoming out. You whine at the new sensation just as he lifts your leg over his shoulder, groaning at this new angle.

“Fuck, Ash...so fucking big...I’m so full,” is all you can repeat as his thrusts become heavier and longer. He pulls out almost completely just to slam himself back in several times, causing your head to spin.

“God, darlin’, you’re takin’ my cock so fucking well. Never gonna go without your pussy ever again. Never.” The fire returns in your belly as his thrusts are more sporadic and followed with loud groans and countless affirmations of praise.

“Ash, Ash...I’m close,” you breathily moan.

“Me, too, baby. Want you cumming on my cock...so tight...made just for me.”

His words are what finally send you over the edge. The stars shine brighter this time, the ringing in your ears the loudest bell ever made. He follows not far behind, his cock releasing thick ropes of cum deep inside of you. As you both fall from your highs, he leaves soft kisses along your neck and collarbone, staying buried inside you for as long as he can stand it.

You’re rubbing his scalp calmingly, breathing in his scent, a mix of citrus, musk, and Ashton. You break the comfortable silence with a chuckle and, “I don’t think I’ll be denying you anything for a very long time, Ashton.”

He laughs at that, agreeing. “Same here. I love you too much to go without showing you my love. But if we decide to play this game again, let’s make the reward more clear, yeah? We both got our way this time, I don't think that’s how this was supposed to work.” He laughs quietly and rolls to your side, pulling you to him in an almost fluid motion. “That was fucking worth the wait, though.” He kisses your forehead before giving you a soft peck on the cheek. He lets out an “I love you,” thick with sleep. You hum in response.

“I love you, too, especially when we both lose the same bet.”

#5sos smut #5sos writing #5sos fic #ashton smut #ashton irwin #ashton irwin smut #5 seconds of summer writing #5 seconds of summer smut #my writing #5sos blurb #5 seconds of summer blurb #kindahoping4forever #cal-puddies #irwinkitten #whyashton #gigglyirwin main #sexgodashton

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carelessannie · 3 years

Text

steve x ofc (maybe it goes like this: dating and mating)

Read on A03

Read the main story on AO3 and Tumblr

Read the Stuckony backstory

Word count: 1K

Steve x Annie (if you’ve read MiGLT, she’s my ofc)

Before bonding, all six packmates are determined to get to know each other. Steve really likes Annie, but feels pressured to woo her before they take a step further.

Major warnings: D/S Au, A/B/O Au, unapologetic fluff and cute dates

---

Maybe it goes like this:

Steve spent three weeks working up the courage to ask Annie out. Bucky still won’t let him live it down. He’s had enough of his idiot mate’s heckling— it’s worth it to take her out right.

It’s also a shame that Annie and Clint go into the city during the week and are usually busy when they’re at the house. Because of this, Steve wants to make tonight the best for his pretty Omega, and he doesn’t give a shit if Bucky thinks he’s being a sap.

Maybe he likes being a sap.

He makes sure to hold her hand the whole time and keep eye contact. A few times, Annie gives him a questioning look when she catches him staring— but honestly, he can’t help it. It’s been so long since he’s dated a woman, and she’s so beautiful. Different than Bucky and Peter in her easy femininity and grace, although no less gorgeous.

Lost in his thoughts about her, he almost misses her ask, “Where are we going, Steve?”

“Oh, uh… it’s kind of a surprise.”

She lightly hits his arm, squeezing his hand, “Okay, okay— keep your secrets, Alpha.”

They stroll around Central Park for awhile before Steve leads them across Gapstow Bridge, up the path, and stops at—

“Oh my god— Steve. It’s still open?” Annie squeals, yanking on his hand, “is this the surprise?”

He chuckles, following her towards the entrance of the ice skating rink, “Yeah, it is. It’s actually the last weekend that Wollman’s is open for the season, so I thought we would—”

“LET’S GO, Steve! C’mon!”

And her enthusiasm ends up being completely justified. She doesn’t even pretend to need help on her skates, and jumps on the ice before he even laces his.

Steve, on the other hand—

“Oof!” he grunts, landing on his ass for the third time.

Ice skating is the work of the devil.

Annie skates up to him, stumbling a bit when she sees him as laughter bubbles out, bright and happy.

“Why are you so bad at this?”

He pouts. He knows it’s sad— a full-ass, Alpha male defeated by just a pair of blades and a sheet of ice.

Asking for help is pointless. The first time Annie tried to pull him up, she ended up sprawled in a heap across his lap. Instead, he sets his shoulders, pulls himself to his knees, and gets a grip on the wall— heaving himself up as he clings to the short, concrete barrier.

“I think,” he pants, getting his feet under him, “I think I need help.”

She’s immediately next to him, slipping under his arm, and adding support to his left side. Her arm snakes around his waist, and he buries his nose in her curly hair. Oh man.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he says, breathing her sweet Strawberry and Salted Caramel scent.

There’s a little laugh, and she kisses his hand, sending sparks up his arm, “Happy to help, Alpha.”

They skate like that, together, for the rest of their time there, leaning into each other and enjoying the other’s scent. Annie tells him a little about her childhood pack, and Steve tells her about his Ma.

Later, when the skates are off and the two of them are walking through the zoo across the street, Steve looks down into her eyes— soaking in the gentle submission from his beautiful date, and watching her eyelashes flutter under his gaze.

“Did you ever see yourself being mated, Annie?”

She hums in thought, “Most of my life I knew I would be. I never imagined being so compatible with the people I love, and everything about this process feels so right.”

Steve appreciates her words, and turns towards her, putting his arm around her waist to pull her closer.

“Annie, I don’t want you to feel obliged to my pack. I know you love Peter and Clint, and have some natural chemistry with Buck, but you should know that I want you in my pack all the same. You balance us, you center us— hell, you’re strong enough to keep me in check. I value your submission and… I have grown to care for you a hell of a lot. I want to ask you, officially, to be a part of my pack— our pack— not just as a member or mate, but as my bonded. Would you, Annie?”

Her eyes are wide, but there’s a distinct HappyExcitedOmega scent filling the air. Still, she seems unsure.

“Steve, I— can I have some time to think about it?”

Trying not to show his disappointment, Steve nods, “Of course, Omega, please— take all the time you need. I know Tony wants the same with you, too. Just take some time to know us better, okay?”

“Okay, Alpha,” she grins, giving him a wink, “why don’t we go look at the penguins?”

He takes her hand back, “Sounds good, darling, whatever you’d like.”

---

It’s not until a week and a half later, when Steve gets home from work, that he suddenly has his arms full of excited Omega shouting, “Yes! Yes, Steve, yes!”

They settle together on the couch, just the two of them for once, and Annie starts kissing and sucking on his neck.

“What… what, Annie? What is this about?” he groans, reluctant to stop her eager kisses.

She pulls off his neck with a pop! and is absolutely beaming, “Alpha, I wanna bond with you. I decided— I do, I really wanna bond with you.”

Steve feels confused, “Good, sweetheart, I’m so happy… what, uh. What changed your mind?”

“My dad just called me.”

“... oh.”

“I can’t believe you went to see my parents!”

“I mean,” Steve shrugs, “of course I did. I asked for their permission— it’s the right thing to do, Annie.”

“I know. And that’s why I want to bond with you, Steve.”

At this, she thrusts forward her left hand—

“I’ll take my ring now.”

#steve x ofc #steve x original female character #steve rogers #ofc #ALSO read as steve x reader #it’s written for you to see yourself there #fluff #fanfic #mcu #captain america #MiGLT

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fanficshiddles · 4 years

Text

This wasn’t part of the plan, Chapter 22

Tom and Melody’s first date at the pub went well, they both had a great evening.

Melody found that she was really enjoying being out in public with Tom. He was affectionate, and she didn’t mind that one bit. Often keeping a hand on her in one way or another, being the perfect gentleman for her too.

She only wished that their second date the following day had went as well as their first…

They went dancing, Tom had found a lovely club that held dance nights. Melody was a bit nervous because she claimed she couldn’t dance, but Tom guided her and taught her some moves. She found being flung around and taking Tom’s lead was quite fun after all. Having a few drinks helped as well, obviously.

There was snacks available, buffet style. Melody was over getting a plate while Tom kept their table.

A young man approached Melody, getting her attention by touching her arm. ‘What’s a pretty thing like you doing here?’ He asked with a big smile.

Melody shifted nervously. ‘Uhm, I’m here for the dancing.’ She said bluntly.

‘Can I have a dance?’ He asked, grabbing her hand.

She tried to tug her hand away but the man wouldn’t let go. ‘Come on, one dance.’

‘No. Let go of my hand, please.’ She said firmly.

The man still didn’t let go. That was until Tom came storming over and decked the guy with a swift punch to the cheek. Making everyone around them gasp, including Melody, as the man stumbled over the buffet table, sending some cutlery and food flying to the floor.

Tom was fuming, his jaw was clenched and his nostrils were flaring as he glared at the man.

‘You keep your hands off my girl.’ He snarled at him.

Melody grabbed Tom’s arm. ‘Tom, let’s go… Please.’ She whispered to him.

The man didn’t move, just stared dumbfoundedly at Tom. Tom kept his eyes on the guy as Melody managed to lead him away.

She stormed out of the place after getting their coats, Tom rushed after her and grabbed her elbow. ‘Melody.’

‘What the fuck was that, Tom?’ She hissed at him, spinning around to face him.

‘I was not just going to stand by while some other man was trying to get my girl to dance when she already said no!’ Tom growled.

‘You didn’t have to punch him!’ She screeched.

Melody started walking along the pavement, flagging down a taxi that was coming down the road. Tom ran a hand down his face and followed after her. The taxi stopped and Tom opened the door for her, she got in but completely ignored Tom.

Tom gave the address to the driver and scooted over to sit in the middle so he was right next to her. She turned her head away and tried to block him out, just looking out the window. Tom put his hand on her knee and squeezed, but he said nothing. He’d wait till they got back.

When the taxi pulled up outside the cottage, Melody didn’t go out the side Tom was holding the door for her on, she slipped out the other side and slammed the door shut. Tom apologised to the driver and paid him, then followed Melody up to the door. The only reason she was waiting was because it was Tom that had the keys.

But she was surprised when instead of unlocking the door, he trapped her against it with a hand at either side of her head.

‘Melody, stop acting like a brat.’ He said firmly.

‘You’re the one acting like a brat! You punched someone! This is the second time you’ve done this, Tom!’ Melody tried to keep her tone low but it was getting higher with every word.

‘It’s not my fault that other men are arseholes and deserve it. They have no respect for women, it’s not on!’

‘You can’t possibly tell me that if I was some random girl you would’ve done the same thing.’ Melody folded her arms over her chest.

Tom narrowed his eyes at her. ‘Well, no. I would have said something, though.’

‘Exactly! But you wouldn’t have punched him!’ Melody flailed her hands up.

‘But that’s the thing, Melody. You are mine.’ He growled deep, then slid his hand into her hair to hold her steady as he crashed his lips upon hers.

‘Mmph… Tom.’ She managed to turn her head enough so he was just kissing the side of her lips, then she shoved at his chest and he stepped backwards.

She glared at him and turned her back on him, waiting for him to open the door. Which he did, but as soon as they got inside he grabbed her arm and hauled her into him, a strong arm wrapped around her waist and held her tightly against him.

‘Melody, listen to me.’ He gently gripped her chin, forcing her to look at him. She was trapped against his far too strong and firm body, she was going nowhere.

‘I will always stand up for you. No matter how small or big it is. You’re my girl and I will not stand for other men touching you.’ He said in a far too primal tone for Melody’s poor mind to take in without almost swooning.

‘But… Tom…’ She sighed, not really sure what she was trying to say.

He tightened his arm around her middle and leaned down to capture her lips again. This time the kiss was more possessive, almost like he was swallowing her whole. She whimpered into his mouth and put her hands on his chest, but instead of pushing him away she fisted his shirt tightly.

Tom backed her over to the wall, never leaving her lips. He reached down and lifted her up as he pushed her against the wall, she wrapped her legs around his waist as he grinded against her. She could feel his very evident bulge of arousal press against her core.

She threw her head back against the wall as Tom left her lips and started mauling her neck. She moaned and wrapped her arms around his neck, sliding one hand up into his hair.

‘Who do you belong to, baby girl?’ He asked, right as he sucked on a sensitive spot.

‘Oh… God… Y, you, Tom.’ She whimpered. He was grinding roughly against her, panting against her skin between sucking and biting.

Tom reached down between them and hastily pulled his cock out, then shoved her knickers to the side and aligned himself up with her. Then without much warning, he shoved into her. She let out a loud moan and tightened her legs around him, it didn’t take long for her body to adjust to his large intrusion.

Tom started rutting into her roughly, pulling plenty of moans and whimpers out of her. He then used his body to pin her to the wall so he could free his hands up to gather her own together, pinning them up against the wall above her with one of his. Then he supported her by holding her bum as he renewed his efforts of fucking her senseless.

And she did completely lose all of her senses. It wasn’t just the rough sex that was setting her alight, but she found she was also reacting very well to the possessive, animalistic side of it all. She felt like Tom was claiming her, making his mark after being challenged by another male.

Whilst a tiny part of her thought she should still be pissed off at him, she couldn’t be. Not when he made her cum multiple times, constantly thrusting into her and pushing her through them.

The both of them were sweating and exhausted once Tom decided they were finished, after giving her many orgasms and himself two. His stamina was pretty good when he put his mind to it.

He carried her through to the bedroom, where he undressed her fully and then took off his own clothes and got them both into bed. He held her tightly to him, caressing her back softly and kissing her shoulder.

‘I perhaps shouldn’t have punched him… But you were in distress, darling. I just saw red.’ He said softly.

‘I know, I know… I’ve just never had someone… protect me like you do.’ She said quietly, snuggling into him.

Tom gave her a squeeze and kissed the top of her head.

The following morning Tom was awake before Melody. He went for a run while she was still asleep, he needed to clear his head a bit and there was nothing better than a good run in beautiful countryside to do that.

He knew that he’d overstepped the mark yesterday. He was getting far too possessive over Melody. Something he knew he was going to have to try and tame down. But it was difficult because whenever he was around her, he just wanted to worship the very ground she walked on... And subdue her... His need for dominance was building every second he was with her. Having her enjoy being submissive and wanting to try more things now wasn’t really helping, if he was being honest with himself.

And while he could get over protective, he couldn’t stand guys that thought girls owed them something. Especially when the girl said no and was ignored. It made his blood boil so much.

He felt better after his run, when he returned he found Melody cooking breakfast in the kitchen. She’d got his note about where he was.

‘What’s this?’ Tom asked as he moved in behind her and slipped his arms around her waist.

‘I thought it was about time I made you breakfast for a change.’ She smiled.

Tom moved her dressing gown out of the way enough so he could press a gentle kiss to her shoulder.

‘It smells delicious, darling… How are you feeling after last night? Sorry if I got a bit too rough.’ He said a little sheepishly.

‘Not at all… I uh, enjoyed it… Even if I was walking a bit like John Wayne when I first got up.’ She blushed bright red and Tom chuckled. ‘Besides, I know if I said stop you would, unlike the guy at the club… I do appreciate you looking out for me, Tom. I’m sorry if I over-reacted. He did deserve it.’

She turned around in his arms to look up at him as she wrapped her arms around him and leaned into his chest. He was all sweaty but she didn’t care.

He gave her a squeeze and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Feeling so relieved that she wasn’t still angry with him.

#this wasn't part of the plan #fan fiction #tom hiddleston #teacher tom #sugar daddy tom

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writingfromkitchenator · 3 years

Text

The Demon, The Hunter, and The Halfblood

Masterlist

Crowley x Original Female Character

Series Warnings: A/B/O series, some Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alpha x Omega, obligatory smut warning here (as usual, no under 18′s please, specifics will be within chapter warnings as needed), violence, blood, fluff, angst, major character death, possession, swearing

Chapter 8

Words: 2,543

“I don't know what you're talking about.” Madelyn shifted in her chair. “And we're not here to talk about it.”

“Oh, we are going to talk about this,” Crowley said simply. “Whether you are comfortable or not. My guess, of course, due to your charming family, that it has something to do with that?”

She refused to meet his gaze. “No.”

Crowley watched her, watched the anxiousness and shame in her expression. He knew he was right, but he wanted to hear her say it.

“Azazel always was too much of a pain for his own good,” She flinched, avoiding his gaze. “And no doubt being possessed by him alone would've left some lasting scars, but this was a little more than that.”

“Stop.” She said firmly, shooting him a cold look. “No one knows about this Crowley, and I want to keep it that way.”

Crowley leaned forward on the table, holding her gaze. “You're stuck with me now love, and I need to know what this is.”

“You already know,” She said, a note of desperation in her voice. “You've already figured it out.”

“Perhaps,” Crowley said. “But what is the reason, if true?”

“Of course it's fucking true,” She said, her voice raising a little, earning some attention, so she quickly gathered herself again. “But it keeps me sane not having to acknowledge that. I was a game to him, and I will not be that again to you or anyone else. I will not be used as someone else sees fit. Mark or no mark, you drop this and you do not bring it up again.”

They held each other's gazes for a long moment.

Crowley sat back, looking amused. “A Winchester fed demon blood for amusement instead of a deal. How interesting.”

“I'm sure it is for you.” Madelyn grumbled, taking a sip of her coffee.

“That's why you've never stopped hunting,” He said. “You've never felt like you belonged with the normal humans.”

Madelyn shot him a dark glare. “Yes, thank you for the analysis. How perceptive of you.”

“My job is to know people darling,” Crowley said lightly. “And you have been both a pain in my side and an enigma. I'm glad at least something now makes sense.”

She huffed and tried to focus on her coffee.

“What does it mean for you?”

Madelyn sighed, hating that he wasn’t going to just give up on this. “You mean apart from making me easier to possess? If that got out alone I'd be a dead woman walking.”

“Something I can arrange to protect you from,” Crowley said easily. “I can hardly have you used against me.”

She gave a small smile. “And here I was foolishly thinking that it was actually for my benefit.” She shook her head. “I...I get dreams as well, like Sam did.”

Crowley observed her for a moment. “I feel like there's a ‘but’ in there.”

Madelyn stared at her coffee. “Sometimes it breaks through into when I wake, so much so it almost becomes a reality for me, like I'm actually there as it's happening. It's almost gotten me killed a couple of times. Walking out of a motel room not in my own world, then proceeding to almost get run over by a car. Certainly not how I want to go out.”

Crowley was thoughtful for a long moment. “So no other psychic abilities?”

She shrugged. “I don't know. I never tested it and never had a desire to.”

“How did your brothers never notice this? Or your father?”

“They put them aside as nightmares. Our life was nothing easy or simple as it was, so it was a given. It...it got worse after Azazel. That's why I haven't been around them much, but I’m sure you’ve already figured all this out.”

“How interesting.” Crowley said, finally earning a return of her gaze.

Madelyn frowned at him. “This isn't what we're here for Crowley. We're meant to be discussing-"

“This effects that.”

“Bullshit it does.” She growled. “Look, I'm not just some random Omega you can boss around as you see fit. I don't work that way. I can promise that if you order me to submit, then you'll find my boot up your arse.”

Crowley smirked. “You weren't complaining during your heat.”

Red flushed her cheeks. “Because I was desperate, arsehole. Just because I'm an Omega, which is a right pain in the arse especially considering the situation, does not make me a submissive.”

“Madelyn,” Bobby interrupted, much to the clear relief of Sam and Dean. “You've stayed here plenty of times without a reaction like that.”

She smiled, a little sadly, and nodded slowly. “Yeah, because I learnt to control it, at least to some extent. If it...got as bad as waking up in it, I taught myself to not to move, most of the time.”

“You sprinted out pretty quick before.”

“Yeah, but...as Dean already worked out before, things are slightly different now.” Madelyn said. “The dreams get worse, quicker, and it essentially sends me into a panic attack. I'm guessing that that one was so bad because I'd...also fought the demons beforehand.”

“You developed more powers.” Dean said flatly, his arms folded, staring at the two of them.

“Nothing too extreme,” She said, ignoring Crowley's cold stare at Dean. “But enough to be almost entirely immune to other demons powers, yes.”

Dean looked even less impressed. “So what? This has become like a kink between the two of you?”

Madelyn said no, just as quickly as Crowley said yes, earning a sharp kick to his leg, which only made him smirk. “Would that even be a problem? Not that it’s any of your business-”

“Yes, it would,” Dean said coldly. “Because I know what Sam went through, and you’re a manipulative enough bastard to take advantage of it.”

“Do you really think that Madelyn is going to fall for something like that?” Crowley asked. “Have you really not seen enough of the two of us to understand what our relationship is now like? Things have changed.”

Dean’s next statement was interrupted as the door opened, Castiel stepping inside, looking slightly concerned, before an excited squeal comes from the next room.

“Uncle Cas!” Casey ran out and practically leapt into Castiel’s arms, who relaxed a little as he picked her up.

“Hello Casey, I wasn’t expecting to see you here.” He said with a smile, which fades at Dean’s bordering on furious look, his eyes quickly flicking to Madelyn and Crowley. “Er, is everything okay?”

“I don’t know Cas, is everything okay?” Dean asked, his arms folded.

“Leave Uncle Cas alone,” Casey said quickly, scowling at Dean, folding her arms, making Madelyn and Crowley bite their lips. “Stop being so mean to everyone Uncle Dean.”

A small moment of silence fell, only broken by Sam trying to control a chuckle, quickly looking away from Dean’s unimpressed look.

“This is for the adults to talk about Casey,” Dean said, trying to hold his tone back. “And right now, Cas is in trouble for keeping one hell of a secret.”

Castiel sighed. “You wouldn't have believed me if I told you. I wasn't impressed by the situation either, but there was nothing I could do about it, except offer my assistance. Not that either of them gave me a choice.”

“After what you did? No, definitely not.” Crowley said, looking amused. “To bring you up to speed though, we had a little trouble with some demons while I was being held hostage by these three. Madelyn had to make the call and here we are.”

“Why didn’t you call me?” Castiel asked, frowning at Madelyn.

“It was just meant to be another move,” Madelyn said. “It wasn’t till far too late that I realised that demons had even gotten that close.”

“If you hadn’t made us think that you were dead, this never would have been a problem.” Dean bit.

Madelyn raised an eyebrow at him. “Is that what you think? You don’t think that it would’ve caused far more problems? You and Sam-“

“Are your brothers,” Dean growled. “And that should’ve meant more than anything else.”

“Dean-"

“No Sam, I’m not hearing it this time. She should’ve come to us with all of this.”

Madelyn gave a bitter laugh. “What? So you could sign my death warrant yourself? There was no possible way I looked at this Dean, without it ending in some sort of death for me. Don’t you dare think that I didn’t look at this long and hard. That I just did this on some sort of whim to upset you all. You are all family, yes, but sometimes you do actually have to look after yourself first.”

Dean didn’t look any less furious. “But this isn’t just about that anymore. We had a right to know what Azazel did to you!”

Castiel frowned at this. “What?”

Madelyn sighed heavily, even as Crowley’s tension grew next to her. “Dean, if I’d had it my way, none of you would ever have known about it. I was more than capable of handling it on my own.”

Dean went to snap again, but a small voice cut him off. "Uncle Bobby?"

They all stopped for a moment and looked at Casey, and for the first time, Dean, Sam and Bobby could see exactly what Crowley meant.

"Er... yes Casey?" Bobby said, realizing she was waiting for him to respond.

For a brief second, Casey's gaze flicked to Dean before looking back at Bobby. Can you, me and Uncle Dean go make something to eat?”

There is a stunned moment of silence.

“I’m not –“

"I think that's a great idea." Bobby said quickly, cutting Dean off. "Let's see if we've got the right things for pancakes. How does that sound?”

Casey smiled and let Castiel hand her over to Bobby. "Come on Uncle Dean!"

Dean stared after them for a moment, before he grumbled something under his breath, and followed.

Madelyn physically relaxed next to Crowley, who gave her a worried look. "She is too smart for her own good."

Sam smiled. "It worked though.”

"Yeah, she's good at that too."

Castiel cleared his throat. "Would someone like to explain what is actually going on?”

"We're playing family catch up, can't you tell?” Madelyn asked sarcastically, making Sam flinch. "It's going wonderfully."

He frowned and then looked at Crowley. "I'm surprised you're allowing all this?"

Crowley raised an eyebrow. "Which? The explaining or the currently upset Alpha who my daughter had to get out of the room? This is not my ideal scenario, but we haven't had much choice in the matter."

"It's never stopped you doing something before." Castiel said. "And what was that about Azazel?"

Madelyn sighed and sunk into Crowley's side, his arm wrapping around her waist to pull her a little closer, her head resting on his chest. “Complicated. Something I don't currently have the energy to explain twice.”

Sam frowned at her, even as she closed her eyes. "You really haven't told him either? Despite all the help he's been giving you?"

“I told you all before that I'd only ever told one person," Madelyn said, settling against Crowley even more, his thumb brushing soothingly against her side. "If you don't want to listen to me properly, that's your problem."

Sam sighed. "Well, it's hardly my place to say anything."

Madelyn shrugged, but remained silent.

Crowley could feel her tiredness weighing on her, knowing it always got worse after the visions. "Love..."

"Go for it, he might as well be brought up to speed too."

Crowley gave a small smile and kissed the top of her head reassuringly before he looked back at Castiel. "You may as well sit down and relax, Feathers. I'm sure between Moose and I we can bring you up to speed, although, you know far more than them anyway."

Sam rolled his eyes, but doesn't say anything as Castiel sits.

For a while, they sit and catch Castiel up on what had happened, Castiel also less than impressed when it was finally mentioned what Azazel had done. He tried to ask Madelyn a question, but that was when Sam and Castiel realised she was asleep.

"None of this is easy on her, I hope you understand that.” Crowley said quietly, having sensed her go to sleep. "None of its been easy. She tortured herself for weeks before she made a decision, and even then, for a long time, she doubted it was the right one.”

Sam remained silent, even as Castiel sighed and looked around the room. "You know the three of you can't stay here too much longer? Without all your usual warding in place..."

"I know," Crowley said. “And while we've all been talking, I've been trying to think of where, seeing as I do not trust that all our locations have not been compromised. Unfortunately, I can only think of one current solution.”

Castiel nodded. "We should be able to modify and add wards easy enough."

Sam looked between the two of them for a moment. "Wait, you want to hide out in the bunker? Are you sure that's a good idea with Dean at the moment?”

"Unfortunately, I don't think we have much choice Sam." Castiel said. "It's bad enough that demons found out and had her briefly as it is. If angels had..."

"Yes, well, let's not go there, shall we?" Crowley said. "Look, it's not ideal, but it is currently the only solution until I can sort out something else. Madelyn needs to rest first though. She'll never let on that this has been taking a lot out of her.”

He thought for a moment, watching her sleep. "I'll take her upstairs where it’s quiet.” Crowley looked at Castiel. "Do you mind watching Casey for a bit?”

Castiel smiled. "Of course, it's never a problem. I had been expecting a call from one of you soon anyway."

Crowley chuckled softly, even as he carefully manoeuvred Madelyn into his arms. “Another week perhaps, but right now, I just want to ensure she sleeps properly. To do that, I need to be there."

Sam and Castiel watched as Crowley took Madelyn upstairs, Sam frowning a little, looking at him once the door had closed.

"You're really supporting them with all this?" He asked.

Castiel sighed and gave a small smile. "It took me a little time to come to terms with it, but, whether you believe it or not Sam, the two of them love each other, very much. If anything were to happen to Casey, I pity the one's that would be caught facing their wrath. She is the light of their lives, and has made them a practically unstoppable force, even if it took them a little while to realise that.”

"You're happy for them?"

"Yes," Castiel said. "It mightn't have started well for them, but, as time has gone on, I think they've slowly realised this was meant to be. I still couldn't even tell you who fell first, but I do know that Crowley broke a lot of rules to save Madelyn's life. That was enough for me to see to want to help as much as I could.”

#supernatural #the demon the hunter and the halfblood #crowley #crowley x original female character #long fic #fic series #crowley fridays #sister winchester #alpha x omega #a/b/o

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melynen · 4 years

Text

Sweet Surprises - 00Q

James Bond returns from a mission from Finland tired but cheerful and armed with a little something sweet — well, several somethings, really — to make up for the long absence from London and his boyfriend.

Q is still at Six when he opens the door and steps in, dragging his luggage after himself and bending down to receive Aziraphale’s enthusiastic greeting in the form of eager little chirps and lots of headbutting. Crowley, ever the more wily one, is sitting by the coat rack and staring at him with wide, unblinking bright yellow eyes. James picks Aziraphale up, abandoning the suitcase by the door for the time being, and takes his time with cuddling him and telling him how much he has missed him and his brother before putting him down again and getting ready to wait patiently until Crowley deigns to come get his share of the cuddles.

He saw Q briefly after his debrief with M when he was dropping off his kit at Q Branch (and simultaneously locking himself and Q behind closed doors in Q’s office for a delightful fifteen-minute long I’m-happy-that-you’re-back-again interlude), but other than that they’ve been apart, both busy with their own obligations. Q did promise to leave earlier tonight, though, so at least there’s that. In return, Bond promised to have dinner ready and waiting, and he has big plans for dessert as well as dessert.

Finally, Crowley decides that he’s waited long enough and makes his way over to Bond. He accepts the pets as his due and looks personally offended when Bond doesn’t immediately dig out the cat treats that he knows Bond has hidden in his suitcase. Bond chuckles and shakes his head.

“All in good time, darling, all in good time,” he tells Crowley and gets an annoyed-sounding mrrrouw for his troubles.

“Cheeky Crowley,” he says affectionately, and watches as Crowley shows him his behind in retaliation.

Laughing to himself, Bond begins hauling his suitcase towards the bedroom. Both cats follow him there, naturally, because if anything, Q’s darlings are persistently curious. They sniff at each and every item Bond removes from his suitcase, from dirty laundry to the book he’d been reading in the evenings and his souvenirs to Q. When Crowley spots the cat treats he gives Bond such a betrayed look that Bond cannot help but soften and open the bag, offering both kitties a piece to see if they like it.

When they both paw at him for more, followed by a chorus of pitiful meows, Bond gives them one more piece each and then reseals the treat bag. “That’s enough for now. You’ll get more in the evening when Q returns,” he tells them. “But perhaps you’d enjoy these while waiting?”

He unearths two cat toys of different shape and colour — one is a green turtle that Bond had picked because its colour reminded him of Q’s eyes, and the other is a purple bunny — and puts them down on the bed. They’re both filled with catnip, and there’s a rubber ball inside of them that makes them jump into random directions. The clerc at the local pet shop had shown that to him and assured him that they would offer the cats hours of fun. Bond is a bit more sceptical, but he’s willing to try. If nothing else, Q’ll be happy that he’s been thinking about the cats while being away from them.

Aziraphale is the first to snatch the purple bunny away, leaving Crowley to lightly poke at the turtle with a curious paw, just as Bond had expected. They seem to be rather taken with their new toys, and Bond watches fondly as both cats carry their prey away from him and disappear from the bedroom.

That gives him ample time to finish unpacking, deal with the laundry and arrange Q’s souvenirs neatly on top of the coffee table in the living room. He’s looking forward to seeing Q’s expression, as he’d only hinted about the surprise that would wait for his boyfriend once he’d find his way home for the evening, appealing to his curiosity to encourage him to hurry home that much sooner. Q’s a curious man, not unlike his cats, and Bond has learned to use it to his advantage.

As one part of the surprise is a recipe that he’d received from his Finnish contact, along with the sweets that go with it, Bond glances at his wristwatch and estimates that he still has at least three hours before he can reasonably expect Q to arrive. It’s more than enough to make dinner, bake the biscuits using the recipe, and take a shower afterwards.

The dinner would be relatively simple: his famous homemade lasagne he knows that Q loves, along with freshly made bread and a side salad. The biscuits would be easy to make yet delicious, his contact, a young woman in her mid-twenties called Lumi, had assured him. The latter he does know from experience, having tasted them one day while visiting Lumi; he’d asked her for the recipe before he’d left, hoping to be able to make them for Q in the future.

Lumi had been more than happy to help, and had presented him with the translated recipe the very next time they’d seen one another, written in her neat handwriting. She’d also asked to hear Q’s opinion afterwards, which Bond had easily promised. (He’d told her quite a bit about his boyfriend during downtime, and she’d even helped him look for some souvenirs for him. Privately, Bond thinks that she might even have fallen just a tiny bit in love with Q’s voice as she’d been given an earpiece of her own and had thus heard him speak several times. At least she’d gushed about his voice to Bond more times than he’d cared to count.)

Bond carries the recipe to the kitchen, and remembers to also bring along the bag of the Dumle sweets that it requires. He reads through the instructions carefully, smiling amusedly at her little personal notes sprinkled in between the text, and then gets to work. He does exactly as the recipe tells him to, and ends up with three baking trays full of lumps of batter that would, hopefully, turn into thin, crispy biscuits in the oven.

His first tray yields rather… interesting results, but luckily his second tray gives him biscuits that at least look like biscuits instead of this funny, stuck-together arch-like creation he’d managed as his first attempt. Bond snaps a photo of it with his mobile after putting his final tray into the oven, all the while wondering what he should do about it. Break it into smaller pieces by hand? Most likely, even though that would not give him the prettiest of results.

Once finished with the biscuits and with the bread dough rising under a kitchen towel he’d brought to Q from Greece, Bond sits down on the table. With the cats reappearing and curiously watching his every move, he sends the photo of the first failed attempt to Lumi, and receives a very amused reply from her within minutes. I did warn you, it says, followed by a laughing and crying emoji. At least your boyfriend should get a chuckle out of it, she then continues, sounding a tad more comforting. And the taste won’t be affected either way.

Then there’s a five minute gap, before she sends one last message: I hope you’re better at following directions while cooking than when you’re baking, tacking a winking emoji at the end of the sentence.

Bond shakes his head, amused, but he does end up sending her photos of both the bread and the lasagna once they’re finished and waiting to be eaten, just to prove to her that he definitely is.

Q arrives five whole minutes earlier than Bond had estimated, and he all but drops his bag and outer layers right there by the door in his haste to greet Bond with a long, passionate kiss. Bond, who has just finished setting the table, wraps his arms around Q’s waist and lets himself be walked against the closest wall by his eager boyfriend. He’s perhaps a touch amused at the sudden display of possessiveness from his generally more submissive lover, but he has nothing against being the less aggressive one for a change.

“Someone’s eager,” he purrs, grinning, when they finally pull away enough to take in some much needed air.

“I’m impatient,” Q corrects him, leaning closer to place a gentler kiss against the corner of his mouth. “And perhaps a little bit desperate. But can you blame me? You’ve been gone for five whole weeks, and I’ve barely seen you at all today.”

“I am fully aware of that,” Bond says. He brings one hand up to Q’s hair while his other hand that’s still around Q’s waist tightens just a bit, and enjoys having access to that lovely mess of curls again. He’d missed it, and everything else about Q, like he’d never missed anything ever before.

Q smiles softly at that. “I missed this,” he murmurs against Bond’s cheek.

“I know you did,” Bond says teasingly. “Though as much as I’m enjoying this now, the dinner is ready, and I’m sure that you’ve not eaten anything since breakfast.” At Q’s decidedly guilty look Bond snorts and gently pushes him away.

“Right. Come along then, darling, and let me feed you.”

Q comes willingly, allowing Bond to lead him straight to the dining room. There he proceeds to practically inhale two big portions of lasagne, a heap of salad, and several slices of bread, along with three glasses of the fine red wine Bond had bought for the occasion.

Pleased, Bond eats his share of the food and regales Q with a few selected tales from his mission, those of which he hasn’t already shared with Q on the phone. Q’s the best audience he could ever hope for, laughing at exactly the right places and saving his eye rolling only to where it’s definitely needed.

Afterwards, Bond clears the table while Q takes care of brewing them a pot of tea. (Q’s skills vastly exceed his in that department, and Bond has decided it’s best to leave the task to Q’s capable hands most of the time.)

Bond has hinted at a special dessert, and Q’s visibly brimming with curiosity, but he’s trying to keep it contained for the time being. At least until the tea is done, Bond hopes, and brings out their tea mugs.

Only, the mug he hands to Q is a new one, a Moomin one he’d brought to him from Finland, and he tells Q exactly that.

“Oh, thank you,” Q says, accepting the mug and turning it around in his hands to see it from all sides. “It’s lovely. Is it Sniff? And he has a cat, too.”

Bond nods. “You’re correct. I had a hard time choosing the right character for you, but the cat was certainly a deciding factor.”

Q smiles. “I did guess. And I do like it a lot. Thank you, James.” He leans closer again and presses a light kiss to Bond’s cheek, which makes Bond pull him closer with wrapping an arm around his waist. Careful of the mug Q’s still holding, Bond captures Q’s mouth in a deeper kiss, one that lasts until the tea pot whistles and forces Q to reluctantly pull away again.

While Q prepares their tea, Bond goes to get the plate of biscuits he’d assembled earlier (he’d stashed the broken ones away for later and used only the ones that he’d actually gotten right) and brings it with him to the living room. Q follows soon after, careful due to the hot teas and the fact that both Aziraphale and Crowley have reappeared and are trying their best to make him stumble and fall. Or perhaps they just want attention, as Q has been focusing most of his on Bond tonight, which tends to make the kitties jealous.

Bond waits until Q has placed the mugs down on the coasters on the coffee table and sat down next to him on the sofa, with the cats sleeping wrapped up with each other on the other sofa, before he wraps an arm around Q’s shoulders. “Are you ready for your dessert, darling?”

“You know I am,” Q replies, smiling, and turns to take a proper look at the plate of biscuits. Bond can tell that he’s curious about the rest of the souvenirs, too, but he’s too polite to outright ask. Well, right away, anyway.

“I baked the biscuits for you,” Bond explains, “using a recipe I got from Lumi. She made sure that I had the right sweets for it, and that I’d have extras for you to try on as well.”

“That’s very nice of her.”

“Go on, then, try one,” Bond ushers him.

Q has a biscuit and then another one, and he ends up feeding Bond bites from the second one when he notices that Bond hasn’t yet eaten any. (Bond did have a few of the broken pieces earlier, and he’ll eventually confess all of that to Q, too. But later. Tomorrow, perhaps.) When he’s done and is playfully complaining about his sticky fingers, Bond solves it by licking them clean himself and making Q flush and poke him on the side with his free hand while he’s at it. Bond still considers it a fair trade-off.

Afterwards, once they’ve both finished their teas and Q has washed his hands because “That was hardly hygienic, James!” although Bond digresses, Bond finally gives Q his souvenirs.

There are several bags of different kinds of Finnish sweets (including a box of salmiakki, the salty licorice that most of the Finns seemed to love — although Lumi had assured him that it was an acquired taste she herself couldn't stand) as well as a high pile of Fazer chocolate bars in all the flavours they had available, all of which Bond had chosen with Q’s famous sweet tooth in mind. There’s also a selection of homemade berry preserves and powdered berries Bond has bought straight from the people who’d made them, three packages of flavoured Nordqvist loose leaf tea, and two bottles of alcohol: a bottle of cloudberry liqueur and another of Koskenkorva vodka, both of which are typical Finnish alcoholic beverages. At least according to Lumi, who should know these things.

The final souvenir is a pair of knit woolen socks that were actually made by Lumi herself. She’d made another pair for Bond, too; Q’s pair is green like the colour of his eyes and adorned with cats, while Bond’s is bright blue and decorated with miniature replicas of his trusted Walther. Bond had laughed when he’s seen them, but he appreciates them greatly, and he’s looking forward to seeing Q wear his.

“Well,” Q says, sounding amused at the amount of sweet things that Bond has brought back, “at least we don’t have to buy any jam for a while. Or chocolate. Please tell me that you left something for others too?”

Bond huffs. “So perhaps I got a little overboard.”

“A little!”

“Hush, you. The selection there is rather extensive, and I didn’t want you to feel left out.”

“And I appreciate it,” Q says. “I really do. But having you back home with us is more than enough.”

“I hope that you’ll like the socks at least,” Bond says. “Lumi knit them herself.”

“They’re adorable and I love them. Do remember to tell her that when you give her my thanks.”

“Of course. And I will expect to see you wear them, too. But not right now. There’s something else I’d rather see you wear.”

“Which is?” Q asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Absolutely nothing at all.”

“Really now? Well, I suppose it can be arranged,” Q says, his eyes sparkling. “If you’ll follow me…”

Bond smiles as he gets up and follows Q to the bedroom. He’ll send Lumi the promised text later. Much later, if everything goes according to plan.

#mely writes fanfiction #00Q #007 fest #teambondvillains #recipes #mi6caferecipes

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yakumtsaki · 4 years

Photo

Welcome, dear readers, to Part 2 out of 3 of the Union Comeback Season Premiere Episode (title under construction, part 1 here). Right off the bat, let me just admit what everyone is thinking, yes, mass-deleting default replacements was clearly a huge mistake. Looking good in the heart boxers, boys, especially Jojo! Very on brand and not at all ridiculous. On a lesser but equally annoying note, our windows have suddenly turned red while the exterior AND interior of the house are purple. Dark days ahead..

..but not for Goro, who has returned home since running away and is immediately being kicked out again. Good to see you Goro, now pack up your shit, D’vorah won the cat heir position so it’s time for you to move to Melody and Daniel’s farm.

-Well I’m a cat so I don’t have any possessions to pack.

Thank you for providing an example of why you lost the cat heirship via this painfully boring reaction to the news of your defeat.

-No, he’s right, we cats don’t have any possessions to pack.

Omg D’vorah shut up. How on earth you boring flops are Alegra/Ronroneo’s grandchildren AND Sophie’s children I’ll never understand. I’m this close to making Maxx the cat heir and he’s not even a cat.

-Correct, I’m a dog.

Worst group of pets e v e r.

Oh look who autonomously woohooed for the first time in a century, I guess those base game heart boxers were simply too hot to resist. If one of you gets knocked up a week away from elderhood I’m gonna have a meltdown the likes of which the world has never seen.

-For the love of God, can we get some privacy here?

I’d love nothing more than to give you two bozos eternal privacy by never looking at either of you again, but the headmaster is here for Wulf so put some clothes on-

-WHAT THE FUCK. Why do we keep getting new headmasters instead of the ones we’ve already terrorized into submission?? Now we have to ‘show BJ a good time’ and ‘maybe we could give BJ a tour’, I’d honestly rather give BJ a bj and get this shit over with, I’m tired of threatening headmasters with murder. Hopefully it doesn’t come to sexual favors but if it does, Wyatt, you’re up.

-Pourquoi moi???

Pourquoi toi still haven’t gotten promoted and toi sleep 22 hours a day, it’s high time toi pulled your weight around here.

Good, that’s the spirit.

-Bonjour, monsieur Headmastér! I wòuld introdûce yoù to Wûlf but hé is très busý with unpàid çhild labόr.

-Haha, what a hilarious joke, Mr. Union!

-Alright Cinderello, after you’re done cleaning the flooding shower you’re going to need to jump out the second floor window and go study in the crypt, so the headmaster doesn’t see you and ask you any uncomfortable questions about whether I acknowledge you as my son. I have to go help your father charm our guest by giving my trademarked speech on how I never got impregnated by aliens and what a blow it was to humanity’s future.

-Ok Mr. Jojo!

-For the last time Wulf, it’s not ‘Mr. Jojo’, it’s ‘Mr. Union’. God.

-Ah hello there Headmaster BJ, apologies for my lateness, I was tucking little Wulf in bed because I definitely acknowledge him as my son. As I do all 3 of my children and not just Cyneswith. Ask anyone! But not Wulf or whatshername.. I want to say Shenar? Anyway, now that that’s been cleared up, what are we talking about here? The fact I never got impregnated by aliens and what a terrible blow it was to humanity’s future? I assumed as much.

-Haha aliens?! Well you are just a family of crack ups, does your son share this amazing sense of humor?

-Oh yes yes he definitely does, and he is definitely OUR son, that’s exactly how I view him as well, not solely as Wyatt’s offspring just because he appears to not have a drop of my DNA. I mean who even cares about that? Not me, that’s for certain. Yes, Wulf was just telling me the funniest joke while I was reading Cinderella to him before I put him to bed-

-Man, it’s so hard to concentrate on math with a broken leg from jumping out the window and Grandpa’s disembodied head floating around.

Grandpa’s disembodied head??

OH FUCK KOMEI

-What?

Nothing! Looking good! The decision to delete default replacements didn’t affect you in any way!

-Thank god, have you seen Vic with that base game hair? Talk about scary.

Yes, talk about scary indeed. Do you happen to know if the matchmaker performs the occasional exorcism?

-No idea.

Well she hates me anyway so that was solution was dead in the water. I have to go back to the headmaster fuckery now, but I want you to know I’m really sorry for what Salome did to you.

-Sό, monsieur Headmastér, the όnly tràck reçord which est bettér than the όne we havé with bébés wόrking, est the oné we havé with our animàls rûnning awaý!

-Oh my.

-He’s joking, he’s joking Headmaster BJ, we’re both excellent pet owners and excellent parents, if you’ll excuse me the phone is ringing-

-Cyneswith darling! An adult bartender is calling for you and he has the Komei face! You might be 14 but he’s clearly future husband material!

-Be right there, daddy!

-Alright, I think I’ve seen enough here.

No you haven’t! Wyatt, take off your robe!

-No need, I’ve made up my mind..

-..you’re obviously a perfect match for our school!

What the hell? How? Even by our standards we legit didn’t do shit.

-Headmaster Jitmakusol left a very distraught letter regarding your family before he was institutionalized, the gist of it being it is pointless to try and keep you people out of the school, and his successor should simply ‘roll with it’.

Well ok then! Pleasure doing business with you, BJ.

-The pleasure was all mine, please don’t ever contact me again.

We’ll make sure to be in touch.

In the meantime, Komei has recovered his body!

-Why me? WHY ALWAYS ME? CYNESWITH IS RIGHT THERE

-Sorry honey, we play poker for it every night and Victor won dibs on Cyneswith.

-That’s right, the first one to scare everyone gets ghost-bingo!

Are you fuckers playing ghost-poker or ghost-bingo?

-It’s a hybrid, we have a lot of time on our hands, being dead and all, so we developed an overcomplicated gambling system for our scares.

Yea ok congrats Victor, now can you fuck off before you actually do kill one of the kids?? They have 10/10/9 energy, they literally never sleep.

-No can do, if you actually kill someone you get Yahtzee!

How many fucking games are involved in this bullshit?

-We told you, we have a lot of time on our hands. SUCK IT VICTOR, I WIN FOR THE NIGHT

Win for the night? Who cares about that, you have Wyatt cornered, go for the Yahtzee!

-Oh, but you said our games were bullshit!

That’s before I realized Wyatt was awake for his allotted 2 hours per day non-sleeping time. Wyatt istfg bro, are you half French-Arab and half panda?

-Pandàs eàt for 14 hourès idiόt, ne pas slèèp.

Well look who knows a suspicious amount about pandas now! Almost like he’s descended from them.

Oh good, everyone’s favorite couple simultaneously has the day off. How about I take you two out for a nice date at Londoste since you’re about 55 years old?

-How about hard pass on that architectural monstrosity of a restaurant and we hang out for 6 hours in our front yard instead?

-Oui, oui! Très blanc garbagè of us!

Well at least we’re not forgetting our roots.

Alright then, we’ve crossed into white trash territory unironically with the yard pda and we’re also freezing to death, how about we take this inside?

-Non!

-Yes, non indeed! I love how frozen your hands are, dear, it’s like you’re a real corpse!

Oh my G-

-Catch me, Creature!

-Je t'aime, dr. Frankènstèin!

Ok, new suggestion, how about instead of going inside we visit a nice church?

-How abοùt you lôôk awày, pervertir!

Bold words from someone doing Frankenstein roleplay, and I’D LOVE TO, but the kids are at school and the animals are sleeping, so there’s no looking away from whatever the fuck this is.

Oh thank god, Cyneswith is back from school and ready to cockblock her parents as always. First time I’m genuinely happy to see you, Cyn.

-Straight A’s again! Ah, we may only have one child but she is THE BEST. Wyatt dear, come here to congratulate Cyneswith and further inflate her ego. Wyatt?

-Why is he ignoring my straight A’s, daddy?!

-Ugh, he’s probably jealous since everyone is jealous of you, darling. Pay him no mind, let’s go inside so I can give you the diamond tiara I got you for your birthday.

-But my birthday is in four months, what will you get me then?

-A throne to go with it and anything you want from Sihara’s and the other one’s rooms?

-They have no rooms, remember? They both sleep in the crypt.

-Right, well how about I act like I got them presents, give them to you and make them watch as you unwrap them?

-Aw daddy💗

-Je ne pas fèèl bien..

Yes, you’re dying, so it’d be some real Frankenstein shit if you did feel bien.

Is this Komei-clone bartender serious, first he calls while the headmaster is over, now he calls while we’re dying, FEEL THE FUCKING ROOM PAL

..and there we go. RIP Wyatt, it’s been sorta ok having you in the fami-

-WTF HOW ARE YOU ALIVE

-HA. I lièd, I AM hàlf pandà and mon beàr gènes protéct moi!

GODDAMMIT I KNEW IT. Is that why the one child you gave birth to is your exact clone?

-Oui! Wulf est 1/4 pandà, et toi wènt et namèd him WULF.

Well, to be fair, not a lot of famous pandas I could have named him after even if I knew.

-Toi çould hàve namèd him Pandà!

Oh man, Panda Union does have a nice ring to it, especially next to the other names.. ~Shajar~, ~Cyneswith~ and PANDA. Thanks a lot for depriving me of the opportunity by withholding your genetic info.

-Je think Wulf est ontό it..

Onto the fact he’s 1/4 panda? I highly doubt that.

Yea nevermind, he knows.

Oh great, Shajar has brought yet another uggo with a culturally appropriative hairstyle home from school.

-That’s what you get for letting her out of the crypt.

Give it a rest, Jojo, we’ve had enough of your incredible parenting to last us 10 lifetimes at this point.

-And then it goes: I send the thunder from the sky, I send the fire raining down, I send a hail of burning ice, on every field, on every town! I send the locusts on a wind, such as the world has never seen, on every leaf, on every stalk, until there's nothing left of green! I send my scourge, I send my sword, THUS SAITH THE LORD🎵

-Great, thank you, Shajar, for singing the entirety of the ‘10 Plagues’ song from The Prince of Egypt 27 times. I’m really sorry but I have to go home now-

-It-was-nice-to-meet-you noogie!

..Shajar, please, PLEASE see a doctor.

-My sister Shajar may be super popular, spoiled and beloved-

WHAT LMAO

-but I have the friendship of animals and that’s all that matters!

Yea, Cyn, no offense, but it feels like you’re trying to cultivate an underdog Disney princess persona for yourself that is the exact opposite of actual family dynamics around here.

-What makes you say that?

Your tiara and throne vs Shajar sleeping in the crypt come to mind.

-So to be an underdog you need to be a loser?

I mean narrative-wise kinda, yea.

-Message received.

No, no that wasn’t a message-

-Yes it was and I got you, loud and clear.

Oh god.

-WHAT? YOU’RE REJECTING ME BECAUSE I’M TOO PRETTY? MY HEART IS BROKEN! I DON’T THINK I’LL EVER GET OVER THIS

-Uh, who are you again? Shajar invited me over, ordered a pizza and has been hiding in the bushes for 1 hour waiting to noogie the delivery guy.

-I CAN’T BELIEVE WHAT I’M HEARING! I HAVE NO CHOICE BUT TO SING ABOUT THIS IN AN ENCHANTED FOREST FOR ABOUT 3 AND A HALF MINUTES

Jfc, where are the ghosts when you need them.

-Mommy has dibs on you tonight, Jojo!

-Mom please no! Your hair is so damn hideous! Just stay in your urn until the default replacement has been put back!

-Ah excellent, I have upgraded my robotic abilities up to cleanbot level!

That actually is excellent, I really want us to fire Kaylynn.

-Cleanbots don’t change cat litter.

..UGH then why even bother, Jojo? The cat shit is 90% of our problems, make something that fixes that or stop wasting airtime with your nonsense. Istg some people.

-Alright sis, how about we go out again tonight and ~play the field~? If I get rejected by a couple more mean boys I can earn my underdog princess badge!

-You are so stupid, Cyneswith, if you want to earn your underdog badge all you need to do is board a doomed ship, Titanic style, and then give the floating door to someone you’ve known for a couple of days while you selflessly and pointlessly drown in the freezing ocean despite the fact you could take turns sharing the door.

-But then I would be dead.

-I know right? Everybody wins. Let’s go get you some tickets.

Yea, let’s not, but let’s get out of here because the ghosts are out of fucking control and you two aren’t sleeping anytime soon.

-Shaj-and-Cyn-in-da-club noogie!

Shajar FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY, ENOUGH.

OMG IT’S SOPHIE MIGUEL. SOPHIE MIGUEL IN THE HOUSE

-Whaddup dildos, ‘tis I, Sophie fucking Miguel, the meanest townie teen there is. I’ve only taken 4 steps into this place and I can already tell I’m surrounded by a bunch of beta turbocucks.

SHAJAR GO TALK TO HER!!!!!

-HEY BITCH, I’M NOT A BETA TURBOCUCK, I’M ALPHA AS FUCK. I’M NAMED AFTER SHAJAR AL-DURR! DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHO THAT IS?

SHAJ WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING, WHAT IS THIS APPROACH

-Of course I do, the first Mamluk Sultana of Egypt. Nice.

OMG THAT SHIT WORKED. LAND THE PLANE SHAJ

-Ohhhhhhhh😍 Do you want to talk some more?? Do you like the 10 Plagues song from the Prince of Egypt???

-Nop, as suddenly as I came into your life, I’m dramatically getting the fuck out for no discernible reason, cause that’s just how I roll. Gone with the wind, baby! I’m like an outdoor cat. You’ll never see me again.

-Oh but I will..

YES YOU WILL SHAJ. I’m so on board this particular Titanicesque crackship that it’s un.real. I mean Sophie Miguel literally came into this place, talked to Shajar for less than one minute and then left the bar entirely, in turn leaving us dick in hand. What.an.icon.

In the meantime Cyneswith.. did this. Game-changing night for everyone!

#gen 2 #ts2

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perspective-series · 4 years

Text

Vampire Perspective (16/17)

By: @arc852 and @hiddendreamer67

Warnings: betrayal (?), death threats, fighting, injuries, car crash, talk of owning people sorta

First Chapter || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

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Patton didn’t try to speak to Virgil when his roommate came storming home. He only bothered to give a sniff, making sure Virgil was unsuccessful, before watching Virgil swoop upstairs and slam the door.

That was the last he saw of Virgil for a few days. Neither of them knew what to say to the other. Patton didn’t want to talk to Virgil unless he was ready to apologize, but he couldn’t tell if Virgil was moping in self-loathing or simmering in self-righteous anger.

It didn’t matter. Patton knew he had done the right thing; he hated the idea that he might have driven Virgil away, but if this was what finally drove a stake in their fragile friendship then so be it. Patton wasn’t going to come crawling back if Virgil had finally chosen his family’s path of darkness. Despite his eating habits, Patton was stronger than Virgil thought.

“I’m going hu- out.” Patton called out to the quiet house late one evening, still not comfortable with calling it ‘hunting’. It was an invitation, a peace treaty to let Virgil join him.

There was no response.

With a sigh, Patton walked out the door, letting his feet travel at a mortal speed as he wandered into the woods. He shoved his hands into his pockets, kicking idly at a few stray pebbles. He winced, watching his superhuman strength kick the rocks far out into the distance, where Patton heard the yelp of an injured animal. Quickly he rushed in that direction, pushing the underbrush aside to view a dazed fox.

“Oh, you poor thing…” Patton cooed, but his fangs were already extending. The frightened animal began to whimper, and Patton tried to shush it as he placed his hands down to keep it still. “Shh, it’s okay, I’m sorry, it will only hurt for a second-”

The fox yelped again when Patton bit down, the bitter blood filling his mouth. Patton drank his fill, wiping at his lips as soon as the animal started to go limp.

“I’m sorry.” Patton whispered again, licking the wound clean. He gagged a bit, getting dirt in his mouth before setting the fox on the forest floor. Its’ breaths were shallow, but present. At least Patton could still control himself tonight. Some needed rest and the fox could still live.

“Aww, look at that.” A sly voice purred, and Patton felt his undead veins turn cold. “The little pet’s still got no bite.”

Patton kept his head down, knelt on the forest floor submissively as he tried to figure out how he was going to get out of this. How had they found him?

“What’s the matter, Patty-cake?” A second voice giggled, and Patton nearly cried out at his poor luck. Just one of Virgil’s relatives was enough. “Has our brother’s plaything finally lost his voice?”

“I think perhaps you’ve forgotten your manners.” The first one growled, and a gloved hand smacked painfully along the side of Patton’s face, sending him sprawling.

It seemed this was the trigger for action. Within moments a shadowy figure launched itself out of the glade, Virgil having heard the commotion from the hovel.

“Leave him alone, Deceit.” Virgil growled, standing protectively between his brothers and Patton as the latter hastily stood up.

“Oh Virgil, it’s been decades.” Deceit groaned, looking bored as Remus stood at Deceit’s left side. The two held twin smirks, both clearly gloating at having found the weaker pair again. “I thought by now you’d be past this whole rebellious goody-two-shoes act.”

“What the hell is your problem!” Virgil screeched. “You both have plenty of vampires in your stupid little bubble, there’s no need to drag us back into your mess.”

“Oh come now, you know we’re always looking for new toys~” Remus waggled his fingers in Patton’s direction, giving Patton a wink.

“Look at it, it’s starving.” Deceit made a tut-tut noise. “Oh Patton, I do apologize for my brother’s behavior. Come with us, darling. We can show you the care you need.”

“I don’t need anything from you.” Patton spat.

Remus growled, his smile fading. “Why, you little-!”

“Wait.” Deceit stuck out an arm, stopping Remus as he gave a sniff of the air. “Do you smell that?”

Virgil paled, knowing what was getting them so riled up as Remus sniffed too. He had hoped that a few days would give them a slight bit of cover, but the scent of Logan and Roman was still ingrained in their clothing.

“Borrowers.” Remus gasped, gleefully clapping his hands. He lunged forwards, shoving Virgil easily to the ground. “Oooh, and they haven’t even eaten them yet!”

“What luck- I was feeling a bit peckish.” Deceit licked his lips, his eyes glowing dangerously.

“Run!” Virgil hissed, ducking from beneath his brother, grabbing Patton’s hand and dashing towards the edge of the woods. Underfed as they were, they stood no chance of winning a fight. They also couldn’t outrun the stronger vampires. Within moments the brothers were at their heels, cackling. Virgil could tell they weren’t even putting in their full effort.

“Look out!” Patton instructed, gripping Virgil’s arm tightly as they attempted to duck beneath branches and leap overturned roots. It was a difficult task, traveling at such vampiric speeds. At least this was their home, and therefore easier to navigate. The other pair could be heard stumbling and cursing, likely Remus running into Deceit’s path. They had never been very cohesive.

Virgil paused, uncertain where to go once they ran out of forest. They couldn’t lead his brothers home- after all, vampires could travel into each other’s homes. There would be no solitude there. Effectively they were trapped.

Patton seemed to have other ideas. “This way!” Patton instructed, dashing towards the streetlights glow. Hopefully the vampires wouldn’t follow them into civilization.

Unfortunately, Patton underestimated their obsession with borrowers. With a shriek he felt himself pulled back, scraped along the sidewalk only halfway across town.

“Patton!” Virgil whirled around, ducking under the swipe of Remus’ claws as instead he fought to save his friend.

Patton kicked up, nailing Deceit in the jaw and forcing the vampire to loosen his grip momentarily. Before he could take advantage of this though, Deceit was on top of him, snarling in his face.

“I ought to tear out your throat for your insolence.” Deceit informed him, his breath forming goosebumps on Patton’s neck.

Patton didn’t think about his next action. Survival instincts took over, and he snapped at Deceit’s face.

The elder reeled back. “Feisty, aren’t we?”

“Get off him!” Virgil tackled his brother to the ground, the two rolling out into the street.

“Virgil!” Patton cried, surprised when Remus said the same thing. The two shared a surprised glance before racing into the street with different intentions.

Quickly the four were engaged in a violent scuffle, limbs getting yanked and hair being pulled. Patton felt several times a joint painfully found his ribs, certain they would leave a bruise. So engaged in tearing at each other’s throats, not a single immortal noticed the threat approaching until it was too late. The truck honked, headlights blazing. Under normal circumstances any one of them could have dodged, but entangled as they were the vampires were not fast enough and the silver hood plowed right into them.

As it turns out, automobiles and vampires do not mix.

Even with their super strength that amount of force was enough to leave a good bruise, and the fact that it was made partially of silver, a vampire’s known weakness… let’s just say all four were sure to feel that in the morning as they painfully skidded several hundred feet across the asphalt.

Patton groaned, ironically taking the least damage because of his more human qualities giving the silver little effect over him. His first instinct was to rush over to the truck, where it had swerved off the road into a small patch of grass. The airbags had gone off and the front of the car was wrecked, but looking inside the human was still alive.

While Patton called for an ambulance, Virgil slowly lifted his head. Everything ached, and Virgil felt like he could sleep for a million years and never heal. A Quick glance around showed the brothers had disappeared, either having scoured off with their tail between their legs or the truck had simply knocked them into next week.

But that didn’t mean they were safe. “C’mon.” Patton urged, stumbling over to where Virgil was. He hefted Virgil up by the arm, helping lift his friend despite his legs trembling. “We have to get out of here. The human medics can’t see us.”

“We- we can’t stay here.” Virgil gasped, clutching onto Patton like a lifeline. “If we go home they’ll just attack us tomorrow night. And if we try to skip town, they'll just watch us leave and follow us…” Not to mention, they were running out of time. Virgil glanced wearily at the sky. He wondered if he truly would turn to ash if the sun touched him in this state.

Patton paused, biting his lip as he seemed to be heavily debating something. “I...I think I know somewhere we can go.”

Virgil didn’t ask questions, simply allowing Patton to lead them both further down the street.

Patton grimaced, limping along at the fastest pace he could manage. There was no doubt the brothers would recover faster, considering how unhealthy and weak Virgil and Patton both were. Patton only knew of one place that was vampire-proof, and he hoped the occupants could find it in their hearts to forgive him enough to let them take sanctuary for the night.

Taking a deep breath, Patton knocked on Thomas’ front door.

It was several moments before Thomas made it to the door. It was well into the night after all. Well, more like very early morning at this point. Thomas yawned and wondered who the heck was at his door at this time. He opened the door, his eyes widening when his eyes fell on Patton. “Patton? What are you doing here? And why do you look like you were hit by...a…” Thomas trailed off as he took in the person next to Patton.

“Ah! Patton, get away from him!” Thomas cowered, recognizing the sight of the vampire that had tried to drink his blood.

“...oh, bite me.” Virgil cursed under his breath, wondering why the universe would be so cruel.

“What?” Patton gave a confused momentary glance between the two. “I- Thomas, please, this is my friend, Virgil. I know this looks… weird, but please, can we come in? I can explain everything.”

“Patton, that’s a vampire! He tried to suck my blood! Just...Patton back away slowly. If you come into my house, Vampires can’t come in without permission right? You’ll be safe in here.” He said, still cowering half-way behind his door and looking between Patton and Virgil, urging Patton to come to him.

If looks could kill, Virgil would most certainly disintegrate at the look Patton gave him. “You what?”

“I didn’t drink his blood.” Virgil defended weakly. He turned to the human. “Look, sorry, I didn’t realize you were Patton’s friend. We’re cool, yeah? Let us in already.”

“Like I’m going to fall for that! You-You probably have Patton hypnotized don’t you! Let him go!” Thomas yelled, glaring at the vampire. Though it didn’t appear very threatening, since he was still shaking a hiding behind his door.

“That’s not how hypnosis works, you idiot.” Virgil sneered.

“Virgil I swear to the high heavens I will throw you to the giant werewolves.” Patton glanced up at the fading moon as if it would grant him patience. He closed his eyes, before once again giving Thomas a pleading glance. “Thomas, I promise you, I’m not hypnotized, and… and we really need help. The sun will be out soon. Nobody is going to hurt you, I promise, but please, just let us in, even for a day?”

Thomas shook his head, unable to tear his eyes away from the red ones of the vampire. “N-No! Patton, why can’t you just come in? I-I’ll help you but I’m not trusting a-a vampire!”

Virgil raised an eyebrow, glancing at Patton and wondering why he hadn’t told his human the truth.

Patton bit his lip, tears sprouting at the corner of his eyes at Thomas’ harsh words, even if Patton knew they weren’t directed at him. Not intentionally, at least. Yet. His mind helpfully supplied.

“Please.” Patton weakly pleaded, out of options. “Please trust me, Thomas. We’re- we’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Patton, of-of course. But this vampire, he-he must have tricked you or something. Please, as my friend, just trust me and get away from him!” Thomas pleaded, only wanting Patton-and himself-to be safe.

“Virgil’s my friend, too!” Patton insisted, frustrated that he couldn’t go inside even if he wanted to; but of course, he couldn’t leave Virgil. Not like this. “He- he’s a little misguided, but he’s not all bad, I promise!”

“How do you know that! I wouldn’t put it past a vampire to trick people! He probably just wants our blood!” Thomas practically shouted.

“Stop freaking out!” Patton put up a hand hastily. “It’s not like that! I- I mean if he wanted my blood, he would have taken it already, right?” Patton gave an awkward laugh, hating that the statement was true. If a few hundred years late.

“Maybe he’s using you to get to me so he can have twice as much blood!” Thomas reasoned. “Patton, why are you trying to defend a vampire. They kill people.” It was a surprise the vampire wasn’t killing Patton right now. But he supposed he was still hoping to get in his house to have more than his fill of human blood.

“They don’t kill people, they just drink blood.” Patton corrected a bit bitterly. “And that doesn’t even make sense. Vampires can’t even drink two human fulls of blood in one sitting, it’s physically impossible!”

Thomas blinked and suddenly he was eyeing Patton warily. “How do you know that?” Thomas asked carefully, hoping it was just a tidbit of knowledge Patton had picked up.

Patton froze. “I...I’m friends with a vampire.” Patton winced, gesturing to Virgil.

“And...why are you friends with a vampire? How are you friends with a vampire?” Thomas asked, feeling as though Patton was hiding something.

“The same way I’m friends with anyone, I guess…” Patton said timidly, shrinking in on himself.

“No, no, you don’t just become friends with a vampire, Patton.” Thomas looked at Patton, really looked at him. “Patton...what are you hiding?”

“Look, Thomas was it?” Virgil huffed, frustrated that a human dared to grill his Patton like this. “Patton just got hit by a truck. Forgive him for not being chatty, and let us in so he can get some ice packs.”

“What?! A-A truck?!” Thomas yelled in shock. He looked Patton over but...something didn’t seem right. “Wait...but...if you were hit by a truck then...h-how are you even standing?”

Virgil tensed, realizing his mistake. “Well I really took the blunt of the blow…”

Patton had gone silent, clammed up as he stared at Thomas like a deer in headlights.

“Patton?” Thomas swallowed nervously. He was mentally adding up everything he knew about Patton in his head...and he wasn’t liking the answer. “Are...Are you a vampire?”

Patton licked his lips nervously, always hating this part. The distrust. The betrayal. The rejection. “...yes.” He answered, in a voice so quiet it almost didn’t exist at all.

Thomas froze, looking at Patton with something akin to betrayal. “I-I...I can’t, I…” Thomas shook his head and was about to close the door and bury himself in bed when two faint voices shouted from behind him.

“Wait!” Thomas turned around, his eyes widening as he saw two tiny people standing on his coffee table.

“Wh-What?” Was all Thomas could get out.

Roman and Logan both looked at each other. They had heard the ruckus, recognized the voices and had come here immediately. Sure, they were still weary of Virgil but...they trusted Patton enough for the two of them. They turned back to the vampires, still standing in the doorway.

“You two can come in.” Roman was the one to say, hoping it worked.

#vampire perspective #perspective series #vampire!virgil #vampire!patton #vampire!deceit #vampire!remus #HUMAN!THOMAS #borrower!logan #borrower!roman #oh look the one chapter with everyone #well except emile #...unless there's some of him left in remus ooooooof that poor borrower #part 16

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kokichi-and-co-imagine-blog · 5 years

Note

I have an idea: basically, each of the DR1 kids gets sucked into a different horror movie, and they all become the protagonist of that movie, & have to keep themselves and the rest of the victims alive & defeat the killer. What kind of horror movie would each of them be in? How would they go about defeating the killer? I think Mondo & Sakura would defeat it by fighting their killers, Toko would use a magic spell book to banish hers, ect.

I think I'm the only mod with extensive knowledge of horror movies, I hope I can do your ask justice while in a funk. If you want any of these expanded upon just ask!

Makoto: Makoto would land himself in a Hellraiser movie (look it up if you love graphic body horror and cosmic horror). Getting ahold of the infamous puzzle box, The Lament Configuration, he'd just fiddle with it without knowing what he was doing, using it as a stress toy. He liked the soft melody that played as he moved each piece, and one night while in the shower he'd be manipulating the box when suddenly the room grew ice cold and light seeped from every single corner. He brought forth a small gash of cenobites. Looking upon him, they could not believe that someone so small and untempted could have even held the Lament Configuration. Makoto of course was all kinds of freaked out, being naked in the same cold room as 4 leather bound bleeding freaks. He fumbled with the box, reconfiguring it to try and put them back. Sadly, Makoto just summoned more cenobites. Ones whose flesh twisted unnaturally into various shapes, others with no eyes or mouths. He couldn't comprehend what was happening, and opted to just ask the least bodily frightening one. Coincidentally, this one looked like a pin cushion. This cenobite spoke with an oddly warm voice, instructing him on how to send them all back to where they belong. Makoto followed the instructions carefully, and finally sent the terrifying ghouls home to their Leviathan. He promptly pitched the box out a window, where a hobo picked it up out of the street and turned into a bone dragon and flew off into the night. Kirigiri would never believe him. He didn't believe him.

Komaru (hush she doesn't get enough attention): Komaru would be stuck in Suspiria, having been sent away to a dance academy. She'd make friends with some of the staff and girls also attending, and learn of weird occurrences and a few deaths that had happened. Over time she would figure out the hidden secrets of the academy, and find out that the owner of the academy was actually a really old witch. She would try to run away, but learn quickly that was not an option. In an odd turn of events she'd find the sleeping owner, and stab the hell out of her (fittingly invisible) body. The rest of the coven would of course crumble, and she'd go home alive and wanting nothing to do with dance ever again.

Kyoko: Our Kirigiri would be entrapped in an episode of an Alfred Hitchcock Thriller show. She'd be a detective of course, working to learn the identity of a killer who had been targeting women who live in a very specific apartment building. It was just reasonable deduction, though what she did not account for was herself becoming a target. When Kirigiri would have the killer cornered and questioned, she tried to overpower her and strangle her. Kirigiri having none of that smashed an ashtray over his head, killing him. Makoto was never told that this was how the case ended.

Touko/Syo: This human 2-for-1 deal would end up in Child's Play. Chucky would come into their possession while Touko was writing a horror-romance novel and researching what it's like to have a human shaped doll that actually was a demon that would only take for at midnight and--- you get the idea. After the creepy little doll started to do some intensely unsettling things, Syo took the wheel and threatened the possessed doll with evisceration. It took no time for Chuck to show his true colors, one being the red of his blood trickling down the wall from where it was pinned by a pair of scissors.

Byakua: Togami would be trapped in The Shining, slowly losing his mind in the massive Overlook Hotel. He'd see all kinds of visions, images of his loved ones and people his didn't know butchered in great detail. He'd see a laughing woman decaying in a bathtub, mere moments after seeing her humming away and beckoning him to her. He'd see Fukawa hung in the middle of the ballroom, only to glance away and back to nothing at all. He lost his mind, almost. In a night of desperation, he set the hotel on fire and fled, any visions he had fading as he got further away. The hotel lay burned, and Togami is still missing.

Chihiro: Managing to move into a gated community, Fujisaki thought he was getting into a safe place. He thought it would all be fine. What he did not account on was someone trying to turn him into a cyborg that was a submissive little girl. Needless to say, it took very little time for him to escape capture and take control of all the other cybertronic captives. In spectacular fasion, Fujisaki took over an entire community of monsters with an army of Cybernetic women. Good for him!

Mondo: Mondo would get himself in a ghostly situation like what was seen in Paranormal Activity. Instead of getting scared shitless, he'd visit a nearby Church and get some holy water, 8 silver rings, a few bundles of sage, and some seals for protection. The moment he'd be pulled out of bed by an unseen force or something similar, he'd come out swinging with holy water soaked fists and silver rings. He placed a seal in every room, and burned sage within each one, still swinging away wherever he heard footsteps. He was never haunted ever again, but he hasn't taken off the rings. Just in case.

Kiyotaka: He'd land himself in a camp-based slasher film as a straight laced counselor, being spared any harm for not being immoral. He'd probably take out the killer after finding some evidence of some kind. Probably a mask and bloodied weapons. Taka would send everyone still alive home on account of the murders, save for the killer. He'd take a final stand, backed by a group of police officers. Why would he endanger himself? Heroism like that isn't meant for a camp environment.

Aoi: this swimmer would get stuck in a short film called The Raft, as seen in Creepshow 2. She'd go skinny dipping in a nice secluded lake where nobody else would bother her, stopping on a wooden barge in the middle of the lake. From there, she'd notice a churning black patch floating around the lake. It looked like it was just being moved by the breeze. She dove back in for a few laps around the lake to warm up, when the tar started to move and follow her. The next time she was on the barge, the tar had gotten closer and was on the other side of the lake. Sensing something wasn't right, Asahina watched the tar move close to a duck that had landed in the water. The tar bubbled up and over the duck, taking it under. Seeing this, Asahina dove into the lake and beat her legs as fast as she could, not stopping until she was ashore and driving outta there. The tar didn't even have the chance to catch her.

Sakura: She'd be hunted by a Yautja of Predator fame, noting she was a formidable fighter among humans. Sakura and the Yautja fought hard, both taking blow after blow. Both bleeding and battered, it was a draw. After a rest, the honor bound pair traded honorable partings. The Yautja learned new hand to hand techniques and Sakura was given a mark on her cheek that meant (roughly) in English "Strong Friend" and a set of bracers made of a light and strong metal.

Mukuro: Mukuro would be in a Purge situation, picking off anyone trying to take her neighborhood year after year. Pretty simple all things considered. She never left rooftops unless it was to block roads with cars and take out hard to hit targets by hand.

Hifumi: Yamada would awaken an AI program that would take over his whole life, and be madly in love with him. Yamada, being Yamada, was overly okay with this. He'd eventually be stuck in a VR sim with his AI darling. He defeated the antagonist by loving his 2-D yandere girlfriend, who would have thought?

Celestia: She'd have inadvertently been hexed by an old woman while playing poker. This being a Drag Me To Hell scenario, Celes just took a gamble and payed the woman back before the curse got any worse. It subsided quickly, and they continued to play cards every Thursday. Anytime Celes won, she'd a cursed until the following Thursday. This almost friendly exchange between the two was enriching to the old woman, taking Celes under her wing as a practitioner of black magic. Couldn't have ended much better.

Leon: Leon would be firmly lodged in a sci-fi original movie called Werehog (not a real movie probably). He'd be friends with a man that would change into a human sized black and red hedgehog at the sight of the full moon. Taking all of his silver piercings, he melted them down into a ball and hit it like a base ball to kill his cursed friend.

Hagakure: This big ol dumb would be the one character who'd live through any movie or show. I'd like to do an entire ask dedicated to to him if you'd like.

Sayaka: She'd be a final girl in The Evil Dead, as in she'd pitch the spooky book into a roaring fire the moment she heard creepy Latin or Sumerian whispering from nowhere. After throwing the book, she'd run out of the cabin and never look back. Gladly, nothing was awoken in those woods. Not yet.

Junko: This loony would be in a Saw movie, basically killing off all the other people stuck with her in any and every puzzle. Upon making it to the end, and being free, she'd even critique Jigsaw's methods. Nobody said she had to be a good person right?

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bytheangell · 5 years

Text

put you into words

(Read on AO3)

“Alright everyone, listen up! We have a slight change to the submission process for the Literary Magazine this semester!” Clary calls out, gathering the attention of everyone in the classroom.

Magnus, with more than a few papers already tucked away into an envelope for his own submissions, listens with a worried look on his face.

“After a few troubling submissions last year, Mrs. Penhallow has decided to err on the side of caution and require that all submissions have a name on them, and be turned in personally to a club member by the writer. Nothing can be turned in entirely anonymous - but if you wish for it to be printed anonymously, we can still do that! To keep them as anonymous as possible there will be one person unaffiliated with the club assigned to reading through them, just to make sure they fit the guidelines before taking the names off as long as you aren’t doing anything stupid like sneaking bomb threats in, or threatening to hurt anyone.”

Magnus tenses. He has some pretty personal submissions, some… well, honestly, they could be quite embarrassing if anyone knew they were from him. Not because he’s ashamed of them - quite the opposite, they’re some of his best writing in his own humble opinion - but because if someone read them with him in mind as the author they might be able to piece together who they’re about. And the last thing he needs is for word to get out that his muse this year is his unrequited crush on Isabelle’s brother. Even Isabelle doesn’t know, despite the increasing frequency he makes excuses to hang out with her while he knows Alec will be around the apartment the two siblings share with their other brother, Jace.

They’re friends in their own right at this point. They follow each other on social media, text more than Magnus texts with anyone else, even Catarina, and usually spend most of their little group hang-outs gravitating towards one another to catch up on life, and school, and everything in between. But it’s been the majority of the year now and after an attempt or two at flirting that fell flat Magnus wonders if it’s entirely one-sided, and he isn’t about to risk their growing friendship to find out. Not when he can just dump his feelings into his writing instead.

Anyone who knows him might connect the dots. But a stranger reading them, and then keeping them anonymous from there? He doesn’t love the idea but it’s better than the alternative of Clary reading them, or someone else in the club. And what can he really do about it other than not submit what he’s been working on for weeks now, and that simply isn’t an option. So Magnus nods in agreement along with the rest of the group before scrawling his name on the bottom of every sheet in the folder previously marked only with the word ~Anonymous, before handing it over to Clary.

With the folder in hand Clary holds it up, grinning from ear-to-ear. “This is pretty thick,” she observes. “You’re going to be half the magazine at this rate.”

“I’ve got a lot of inspiration this year, what can I say?” He smirks a bit before shrugging. “And they probably won’t all make it, anyway. You know how it goes.”

And with that he leaves the rest up to fate, and forgets all about the writing submissions for the rest of the week.

---

The following Thursday he shows up a few minutes early, catching just Clary in the classroom re-arranging the tables into a circle.

“Need some help with that, Biscuit?” he asks, shrugging his messenger bag off of his shoulder and tossing it to the side of the wall by the door.

“Sure you wanna risk messing up that perfect manicure of yours?” Clary quips, and Magnus laughs as he grabs a table without waiting for permission or acceptance.

“So what’s on the agenda for tonight?” He asks, and the hopeful tone of his voice must give away the answer he’s hoping for because Clary shakes her head.

“We’re not voting yet,” she says, and Magnus sighs.

All the submissions for the magazine are typed up without names, read aloud to the group, and voted in by a points system. Everyone gets a vote, and the 30 submissions with the highest number of votes gets in. Not all of them are from people in the magazine, either, so it’s really a mixed bag of submissions every semester. But it’s fair, since they’d obviously be biased towards each other’s if they knew which was theirs.

“I wanted to do it this week, but I couldn’t get them back in time from our apparently too-busy-to-finish-in-one-week volunteer reviewer,” she explains with an eye-roll.

“Really? I mean, I know it’s not their job or anything, but there weren’t that many to read through, were there?” Magnus wonders who could be so busy they can’t set aside an hour or two to read through some poems after an entire week.

“Yeah, well, I gave them to my girlfriend’s brother so I can’t exactly be rude about rushing him--”

Magnus drops the chair he’s carrying, paying it absolutely no attention when it tips sideways onto the floor. His eyes are wide and he’s certain he isn’t breathing. In fact, he can’t remember what air is as his entire brain seems to short-circuit because Clary is dating Isabelle Lightwood.

“What? He’s finishing them now, so don’t worry! They’ll be done by next week.” Clary’s trying to make him feel better, as if his reaction is to the news that they’re still being worked on, and not over who is working on them.

“Clary - and I cannot stress how important this is - which of Izzy’s brothers did you give them to?”

“Oh, right. I keep forgetting you know the Lightwoods, too. Why does it matt--”

“CLARY, PLEASE.” Magus is pleading now, and he feels about five seconds away from throwing up. He and Clary aren’t very close outside of the club, and she and Isabelle just started dating a few weeks ago, so of course he doesn’t expect her to remember that he’s friends with them, too. He doesn’t blame her, he isn’t upset with her, he’s just upset. “Are you alright?”

“CLARY.”

“Oh my god, alright already! Alec volunteered to read through them when he overheard me complaining to Izzy about the new rule, but I don’t see what the big deal is-”

Magnus takes several steps backwards to lean against the wall, tilting his head back and closing his eyes in frustration. No no no no no no no, he thinks, and doesn’t realize he’s also saying the word over and over again out loud, too, until Clary gives him a look like she fears for his general sanity. She might not be too far off after tonight, if he can ever show his face on campus again for her to notice.

“Magnus, what’s wrong?” Clary keeps her distance, eyeing him carefully during this burst of erratic behavior.

“I have to go.” Instead of answering the question he turns and leaves, pausing only a moment to grab his messenger bag off the floor.

“Magnus?!” Clary calls after him, but he doesn’t stop or turn around.

The walk to Izzy’s apartment isn’t far from the classroom he’s at, but every step seems to drag on for a lifetime, even as he speeds his pace up to something not quite a run, but pretty damn close. Paying little mind to the people around him he bumps into the shoulders of more than one student while he punches a number into his phone and brings it to his ear.

It rings, and rings, and goes to Alec’s voicemail. He sends a text (‘Hey. This is going to sound strange but if you haven’t read the Literary Magazine submissions yet could you wait, and call me first? It’s important.’) but it stays unread and unanswered. Of course it can’t be that easy.

Okay, that’s fine. He can try a back-up plan. A few seconds later another number is dialed and ringing, and this time an eager, “Hey!” greets him through the phone.

“Isabelle, darling, please tell me you’re at home.” He tries to keep his voice even but there’s a clear edge to it, an underlying panic. Izzy being home to try and stop her brother before he gets to Magnus’ submissions is his last hope.

“No, I have class late on Thursdays, remember? Why?”

Magnus groans, face dropping after the moment of hope he mistakenly felt after she picked up.

“Damn. Right, well. I’m going to your apartment to try and stop Alec from reading about half a dozen poems I wrote about him, so if you never see me again it’s because this went about as mortifyingly as I’m anticipating, I’ll have to transfer schools so I never have to face him again, and it was really nice knowing you.”

“Ma-” Izzy barely starts to say his name when he hangs up on her, much the same way he walked out on her girlfriend only minutes before.

He doesn’t want to go to their apartment because if he does, and Alec already read the poems, he genuinely doesn’t know what he’s going to do. But he has to risk it on the off chance that luck is on his side and maybe Alec just told Clary he was getting around to them now, but he was really pushing them off again. Please, he silently pleads with the universe, be on my side this once.

It only takes ten minutes for him to reach the apartment, but another 4 of pacing the hallway outside the door before he finally knocks.

There’s the sound of shuffling behind the door, soft footsteps that grow louder before a lock clicks and the door swings open.

“Oh, hey Magnus!” Alec’s clearly surprised to see him.

“Why do you even own a phone if you never have it with you, Alexander,” Magnus tries to joke, but he’s too nervous and it shows.

“Oh, sorry,” Alec looks a little sheepish. “Probably left it in my room. Uh, if you’re looking for Izzy she won’t be back from campus until late, it’s Thursday.” Alec points out. It occurs to him that this is the first time the two of them are actually alone, without Izzy or Jace or another group of friends along to go out or watch movies with. His heartbeat picks up speed at the realization, even if this is far from how he imagined finally getting some alone time with Alexander.

“I know. I was actually hoping to talk to you, if that’s alright. You didn’t happen to--”

But Magnus pauses when Alec shifts in an obvious attempt to block Magnus’ view of the living room. Shifting just enough (because Alec is tall and imposing when he needs to be, but he isn’t big enough to block the entire doorway) Magnus glances past Alec to the table that’s in his line of sight, and sees what Alec is trying so obviously to block.

He’s too late. The table is covered with papers and a familiar envelope with Magnus’ name on it sits open at the top.

Alec knows. He read the poems and he knows and there’s nothing Magnus can do to take that back. He’s ruined everything - the dynamic they all had when they hung out together, any chance he had of maybe flirting with Alec properly and asking him out one day - now he just looks crazy, like he does nothing but stare at Alec and those gorgeous hazel eyes and soft smile and those little crinkles around his eyes when he laughs that just beg to be admired in poetry.

Which, to be fair, isn’t entirely off-base. He does spend a lot of time sneaking glances Alec’s way. It just isn’t something he planned on exposing yet. It isn’t the right time, and now it never will be.

“--you know what, nevermind. You’re right, I was here for Izzy but I totally forgot about her class, so I’ll just… go. Yeah, I have to go. Sorry.”

Magnus turns around and takes several steps down the hallway when he feels Alec’s hand on his shoulder. “Wait.”

It’s a simple request and yet somehow actually stopping instead of taking off in a sprint down the hallway is the most difficult thing Magnus has done in recent memory.

“Magnus, I-” Alec starts, but stops again.

Magnus takes a deep, steadying breath before forcing himself to turn around. “It’s alright, you don’t have to say it. I know you only hung around with me because I was friends with your sister. It’s cool, really.” Giving his best, fake-confident ‘I’m fine, really’ smile.

“That isn’t what I was going to say.” Alec frowns.

“No, of course it isn’t. You’re too nice to actually say it,” Magnus shakes his head. He can’t do this, not here, not now. He can’t stand there and listen to Alec let him down easy until he wants the ground to swallow him whole. They were just starting to become better friends and now he ruined even that, and he’ll never forgive himself for it. “I’m sorry. I can’t-”

“Will you come inside for one minute? I want to show you something.” Alec looks nervous. Why would Alec be nervous? “Please?” When Alec repeats the request, practically begging this time, Magnus knows he can’t say no to that look.

“Alright.” It’s a reluctant agreement but he finds himself following Alec back into the apartment. When the door shuts behind him it leaves Magnus feeling strangely claustrophobic.

“Just… wait here. Don’t leave.” Alec instructs before disappearing down the short hallway that leads to his room. Magnus can’t help but wander over to the table, picking up his poem from the top of the pile and glancing over some of the words he wrote of a trip they took with Izzy and Cat and a few other friends to hike and picnic a month ago.

‘We watch the sunset from the mountain top Hand-crafted by deities, perfected over centuries To be mesmerizing To be awe-inspiring But nothing in heaven or on earth could compare To the enchantment I feel Watching hues of green and chestnut and gold Light up like fireworks when he laughs’

It was a perfect day. A perfect memory. Why did he have to go and ruin it?

When Alec comes back Magnus drops the paper back onto the table like it burns to the touch.

“Seriously, Alec, I’m sorry… if I thought for a second Clary was going to give these to you I never would’ve-”

“Listen, Magnus, I know words are your thing and all, but if you could just stop talking and listen for five seconds.”

Magnus winces at Alec’s exasperated tone, attention finally drawn to the paper Alec holds out. It’s covered in Alec’s handwriting from top to bottom.

“What’s this?” Magnus asks, taking it when Alec doesn’t reply right away, instead just holding the paper out stubbornly in front of him.

“It was meant to be anonymous, too. But since I read yours it’s only right that you get to read mine.”

Magnus looks from Alec down to the paper in his hands, and begins to read. It isn’t a poem, more an uninterrupted stream of consciousness. The prose takes the form of Alec observing someone in the fading light of the sun’s last rays. Of a moment on a mountaintop, with wind-blown hair and friends and wine… and about how Alec wished it was just the two of them instead of a group outing, instead of his sister sitting between them on the blanket they shared.

Magnus has to read it a second time to be certain before allowing himself to speak.

“...you wrote about me?” Magnus asks, dumbfounded.

“I know it’s probably awful, I tried the whole poetry thing but it was total garbage so I just sort of rambled instead, but… that isn’t the point. You’re asking if it’s about you, and yeah. It is.” Alec smiles, not the big kind that give him those explosive laugh crinkles but a small, reserved twitch of his lips that’s barely noticeable unless you’re looking for it.

And of course Magnus is looking.

“I thought there were some signs, but then I wondered if you were just being nice to me because I was Izzy’s brother,” Alec admits. “So I figured if I sent this in, and it wasn’t just me…” he shrugs. That’s clearly as far as he got with his plan, but it’s more than enough.

“It isn’t just you.” Magnus confirms, smiling for the first time since Clary told him about Alec.

“So now what?” Alec prompts.

Magnus considers for a moment before the perfect idea comes to mind.

“I’m free Saturday for another hike. You drive, I’ll pack the picnic?” And then, just in case he isn’t clear enough, adds, “Just us this time?”

Alec’s entire face brightens at the idea. “Sounds perfect.”

...maybe the universe wasn’t as out to get him as Magnus first thought.

#malec #magnus bane #alec lightwood #shadowhunters #shfanficnexus #isabelle lightwood #clary fray #clizzy #magnusbicon #HAPPY BIRTHDAY MEGAN #I hope you like it!!#<3 #elle writes a few deadbeat lines

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viva-la-sterek · 5 years

Text

Happy new year, Sterek Fandom! Here is a list of some greatly enjoyable fics created in the fandom this past year! It’s amazing to see Sterek still going strong with events like @sterekweek-2018, @sterek-smooch, @sterekreversebang, @stereksecretsanta, and many more! Thank you so much to the many writers, fanartists, graphic makers and everyone that contributes to fandom! x3

They Say It's Mighty Fine by @the-apocrypha (1/1 | 23,234 | Gen.)

"Hello. This is Alpha Vernon Boyd, calling from Camp Remus about—"

"Derek?" Talia asks, confused. "You're calling about Derek? Is he okay? What happened?"

"Oh, boy." Melissa blows out a breath. "All right. Is he hurt?"

"He's been there for two hours, what could he possibly have—" John pauses. "Hang on, Camp Remus? Like the werewolf camp?"

Where You Still Remember Dreaming by @yodas-yo-yo (15/15 | 95,612 | Explicit)

“What’s your name? I can’t keep calling you Balto.”

“What’s yours?”

“Stiles.”

Derek raises an eyebrow. That isn’t his real name. There’s no way. But now he thinks about it, he has a vague memory of someone, probably Uncle Peter, telling him that with the fae, names have power. “I’m Miguel,” he says.

“Lie.”

“Are you trying to tell me your real name is Stiles?”

Stiles runs his tongue across his teeth and considers Derek carefully. “Fair enough,” he says, “Miguel it is.”

Grabbing his groceries and pocketing the change, Derek turns to leave; he’s nearly at the door when Stiles calls out, “By the way, Miguel, if you’re interested, it’s two for one on bags of kibble at the pet store down the street.”

Derek doesn’t look back, doesn’t hesitate, just raises a hand and flips him off on the way out.

Sweet Buns by skoosiepants / @pantstomatch (1/1 | 17,936 | Teen)

Stiles hasn’t seen Derek Hale this close up for over a decade. He looks almost exactly the same, except somehow he seems even bigger and broodier—criminally handsome, with soft-looking dark scruff, heavy brows, light hazel eyes. His gaze zeros in on Stiles almost immediately, and his scowl lightens minutely in what looks like surprise.

Stiles is acutely aware that he has melted butter and cinnamon all over his face, and tries to surreptitiously wipe it with the ends of his sweater-sleeve.

Or-

The a/b/o bakery au with feelings

Scrubbing Bubbles by MargaretKire (8/8 | 46,063 | Explicit)

Stiles thought it would be easy doing janitorial work for an office. At first, it really was. The job only took a few hours in the evenings and it helped pay for rent and college. Sure, Hale Industries took up an entire floor in one of the downtown financial buildings, but the place was new and easy to care for. He didn’t even have to spend much time cleaning the huge corner office, because the trash was nearly always empty and the office itself was spotless, like no one used it.

It was basically the perfect college job. At least, until the boss started staying late.

Give you that thing you can't even imagine by LunaCanisLupus_22 (1/1 | 10,982 | Explicit)

the one where mateless Derek thinks no omega can affect him like they do other alphas and he's about to find out he's very, very wrong.

That Frothing Knob by Pride_of_Six (4/4 | 14,598 | Explicit)

Stiles was wiping down the spout of a machine with a cloth, and Derek almost popped a stiffy right there in the café. It was completely embarrassing that after so many years of control over both his human and wolf side Derek would find himself so… enamoured by this random. Regardless, the wolf wants what the wolf wants, and Derek found himself trying his darnedest to get some sort of a rise out of Stiles, “You sure know how to handle that frothing knob.”

Needless to say, Derek got to see that beautiful blush colouring the barista’s face once again.

hey asshole by @everchanginginks (1/1 | 15,631 | Mature)

The Hales moved in next door more than a year ago and while Cora and Stiles became fast friends, Stiles has yet to meet his best friend's big brother, Derek, who’s been attending college in New York. When Derek comes home for the summer he makes less than a stellar impression. And vice versa.

lube and determination by @bleep0bleep (2/2 | 4,873 | Explicit)

It's a holiday classic: homesick boy wants to make a pumpkin pie while studying abroad, boy realizes the only place to find vegetable shortening is a sex shop, and boy makes fool of himself in front of other boy.

The Quickest Way to a Man’s Heart (is Through His Bottomless Pit) by @isthatbloodonhisshirt (1/1 | 54,167 | Explicit)

Pulling open his apartment door, he let out an involuntary shout when something was quite literally thrust into his chest hard enough to have him almost tip backwards. He managed to right himself while keeping hold of what had been shoved at him and looked up in time to see his neighbour striding back towards his apartment.

“You’re going to fucking kill yourself.”

His door slammed.

Stiles blinked at the other man’s door, utterly confused, and looked down at what he was holding.

It was a plastic bag, full of what felt like tupperware, which made no sense to Stiles because when had his neighbour broken into his house to steal his tupperware?

Sharing Food by @aussiebee (2/2 | 9,564 | Explicit)

Derek is pretty much absorbed into the Stilinski family, one meal at a time.

Have You Tried Turning It Off and On Again? by @sophisticatedyet (1/1 | 8776 | Explicit)

Stiles gets a wrong number call from an old man who can't install his antivirus software. He feels like doing a good deed, so he decides to walk him through it.

Derek is not an old man, just a technologically incompetent twenty-six year old TA who has made enemies of the entire UCLA IT department. The helpful stranger he has just accidentally called is about to become Derek's go-to computer guy.

Bittersweet and Strange, Finding You Can Change (Learning You Were Wrong) by WithMyTeeth (8/8 | 49,983 | Explicit)

When perpetual loner and failwolf extraordinaire Derek Hale finally loses patience with his meddling family, he grabs a confused Stiles Stilinski, unsuspecting diner patron and herbal medicine student, off the street to pose as his new boyfriend. Hijinks ensue.

Companionship by exclamation / @jessicameats (42/42 | 85,697 | Explicit)

Companions are elite pleasure slaves, trained in music, dance, poetry, and, especially, sex. Stiles is the worst student in the history of the companion school, so his teachers decide to get rid of him by claiming he is interested in bondage and selling him to someone who'll keep him restrained and gagged.

Derek Hale is lonely and interested in BDSM. Buying a companion with an interest in submission seemed like a good idea at the time, but it turns out Stiles is not what was advertised. Not only does Stiles hate the thought of BDSM, he also has very strong opinions on what constitutes consent, or lack thereof. But keeping Stiles seems a better option than sending him back to the school, so somehow they will have to work this out between them.

Do Not Go Gentle by @mojoflower (51/51 | 195,878 | Explicit)

Derek Hale, Beacon Hills Alpha and Dom, wakes up in a dark cell already housing another captive – a mute, traumatized sub with a cruel collar around his neck. His only goal is to get them both free of their brutal circumstances; but even as he tries to get his young companion home, a bond between them grows. Nothing comes easily: danger and harrowing echoes of their ordeal shadow every step they take.

too long to the weekend by @dizzy-redhead (1/1 | 5,261 | Explicit)

When Derek agreed to show Stiles around Berkeley, he was thinking of Stiles at fifteen, his childhood friend, the son of his mother's best friend.

He was not prepared for Stiles, all grown up.

Married at First Glance by WonderWolf (14/14 | 63,558 | Explicit)

Married at First Glance gives its participants seven weeks. Seven weeks, starting when they meet and marry their “perfect match”, to decide if they want to stay married or divorce.

For Stiles and Derek though, the challenge lies within trying to pretend that they don’t absolutely hate each other’s guts. When you’re married to a werewolf who dislikes humans, however, this can get a little tricky.

But the sweet, sweet cash reward at the end will be worth it. Right?

(A Married at First Sight AU)

Show Me Your Igloo and I'll Show You Mine by @thisdiscontentedwinter (1/1 | 4,943 | Explicit)

Stiles is finally going to meet the online friend he's had for years.

Instead, the hottest guy in the world walks in.

Broken Car, Lemon Bar by inhystereks / @bibliophile246 (6/6 | 27,884 | Mature)

Stiles got out of his car so whoever was coming wouldn't think he was just being an asshole and stopped in the middle of the road on purpose. He almost laughed when he caught sight of the approaching car. A black Camaro. Which meant Derek Hale was the one slowing down to pull up behind him. The town mechanic and also the scariest fucker around.

Oh, sweet irony.

He was exactly the person Stiles desperately needed and was also terrified of.

Perfect.

The Courting Dilemmas of a Spark and a Werewolf Prince by green-leaf (2/2 | 11,472 | Teen)

Talia smiled calmly. “I am well aware that you are not a werewolf, my darling, but I thought this would be the best reading material for you to use as reference. After all, how would you know how to act during a courting ritual if you do not study it?”

“But I don’t... I’m not…” Stiles narrowed his eyes at her. “Are you setting me up with someone?”

Talia rolled her eyes at him. “Don’t be obtuse, my darling. Why would I set you up with someone –”

“Oh, well, that’s good, because–”

“–when I have a son who is already perfectly enamored with you?”

The Accused by @drgrlfriend (1/1 | 5,764 | Mature)

“Remember when I thought I was in love with Kate, and she turned out to be a murderous hunter who killed most of my family and blinded me in the process?”

Erica’s voice was cautious. “Derek — what the fuck — of course I remember, how could you even ask? —”

“Well, my mate is worse,” Derek said flatly.

A Little Less Conversation by Lissadiane (1/1 | 5,626 | Gen.)

Derek has learned to be a good Alpha in most of the ways that count. The problem is, now that he's well-adjusted, safe, and happy, it's time to turn his attention to the one thing he's always sucked at: finding a nice, sweet Omega mate.

Lucky for him, Erica and Stiles have ideas on how to make that as painless as possible.

In which Derek Hale is a failwolf and somehow, ends up going speed dating.

Cheers to more Sterek in 2019!!

#eternalsterek #tag: 2018 #tag: year end round up

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coloursflyaway · 5 years

Note

For your new prompts, 9 and can ‘her’ be God? (Also your writing is absolutely amazing!)

Oh God, I loved this prompt!!! ♥ Really, it was so much fun to write, which might be why I might have gone a bit overboard with it…

Read on AO3

9. “You’rein love with Her.”

It’s late,so late it’s almost early again, but at least to them time is a construct, soCrowley decides to ignore it, instead pours himself another glass of brandy.They must have finished two or three bottles already, but it’s not enough tomake him forget about the dull ache in his chest, which seems to have onlygotten worse in the past weeks.For Crowley had made a grave mistake: Right after they prevented theApocalypse, saved themselves, there had been a time in which he had dared tohope.

Aziraphaleand he had spent almost all their days together, sometimes talking, sometimesnot, sometimes drinking, eating, sometimes just being, Aziraphale with a bookin his hands and Crowley flipping through channels on the TV he miracled intoexistence in an unused corner in the bookshop. It had been easy, had felt likecoming home, and that treacherous, desperate part of Crowley’s heart, which hehad never been able to frighten into submission, had thought that maybe they hadnot gone at the same speed, but they had reached a shared destination.

One time,and Crowley remembers that evening more clearly than anything in his existence,Aziraphale had even reached for his hand when they were strolling throughLondon’s streets, had woven their fingers together. The angel had beenoblivious to it, like he had been to so many other things, but Crowley next tohim had died and come back to life again, Aziraphale’s strong fingers the onlything tethering him to the ground.

And yet,whenever he had tried to take a step forward, hide some deeper meaning in hiswords, tried to find out if maybe, just maybe, Aziraphale felt a fraction ofthe love Crowley had carried for the past six thousand years within his chest,the angel had pulled back. With a smile on his lips, maybe, with a kind word and a look in his eyes thatCrowley couldn’t hope to decipher, but he had pulled back anyway.

Maybe thisis Aziraphale pulling away as well, Crowley muses, because there is somethingin the angel’s gaze that he can’t read as he watches Crowley gulp down half hisglass of brandy at once. “You know, I think I know what the problem is”, Crowley suddenly says, hiswords so clear they surprise himself. “You’re in love with Her. Still. Afterall these years, after what She put us through, what She put you through, you’re still so in lovewith Her that you can’t see. You can’t see.”

The worldaround them seems to freeze, and Crowley knows just why; because for the firsttime in all of his existence, he sounds as desperate as he feels.

At first,he can’t quite tell if Aziraphale knows what he is talking about, and part ofhim is glad for it, after all it is easier to hide behind the façade he hasbeen holding up for millennia, that carefully crafted image made fromfrightened plants and lunch dates and companionable silence. Crowley is scared,has been scared, of so many things, and yet nothing has ever frightened him soprofoundly as the thought of ripping his chest open, scooping out his heartwith trembling fingers and getting down on his knees to offer it to the angel,that bloody, beating, bruised thing, unknowing if Aziraphale will mend it ortear it apart for good.

Still, herehe is, every syllable that has spilt from his lips doing just that, everytremble of his voice having betrayed a millennium of emotion, and Aziraphale iswatching him, not a single muscle of his beloved body moving. It might bebetter or it might be worse than another reaction, Crowley cannot tell, notwhen his heart is pounding against his ribs, demanding to be freed of itsprison, not when despair is closing off his throat, not when against allreason, there is still a thread of hope holding him together, no matter howmuch he is straining at the seams.

“Why areyou still in love with Her?”, Crowley asks, because it doesn’t matter anymore,he has said too much already. And if he continues speaking, at least the angelcan’t. “Why are you still in love with Her, when She has done nothing todeserve any of it, when She has hurt you and pushed you away and let Gabrieland the others almost kill you? Why are you still in love with Her when I have been here, waiting for you tolove me back since the very first moment I laid eyes on you?”

It’s thatlast sentence that comes out almost as a scream; it’s the first and the lasttruth Crowley has been holding onto, the words he thought he would die trying tokeep to himself. But the world almost ended, he almost lost everything, and just for a moment,it seems like it doesn’t matter. Like he finally severed those last, fewheartstrings and can offer Aziraphale the offending organ without suffering theconsequences.

He can’t,though, because in the end, there is nothing Crowley has built himself aroundas much as the impossible love he holds for this oblivious, infuriating angel,and ripping it from his chest would mean to watch himself crumble to pieces. And yet, it’s too late, the damage done, so Crowley, still breathing heavily,still holding onto a heart that doesn’t want to be contained, readies himselfto pull that last thread free, fall apart at Aziraphale’s feet like he perhapsalways knew he would.

A fewmoments pass in silence; if Crowley could still grasp even a single one of histhoughts and make it real, he’d transport himself somewhere else, to his flator Japan or Alpha Centauri, it does not matter. Instead, he stays rooted on thespot, unthinking and feeling too much at once, crazed eyes fixed onAziraphale’s familiar face. The angel’s tongue darts out, wetting pink lips, and something inside Crowleybreaks, incurable.

“Saysomething”, he forces out between gritted teeth, aware that he isn’t demandingit, he’s begging. “I can’t”, Aziraphale breathes out, his voice brittle and broken and as bruisedas Crowley feels. “I would not know what to say, Crowley, my darling – “For a second, the demon feels how it would have been to watch the world end,the helplessness, the anger, the all-encompassing grief, the feeling of beingtorn to shreds, but then Aziraphale leans over in a flurry of arms andcream-coloured fabric and pulls Crowley against his chest.

He’s warm,even through the shirt, solid and soft, and Crowley cannot comprehend what ishappening, not until lips are pressed against his temple, the side of his face,his forehead, one of Aziraphale’s hands sliding into his hair. It’s Crowley’s arms that understand first, wrap themselves around the angel’swaist, his fingers clutching to the soft, well-worn fabric, then his eyes, thatflutter closed. Only then, his heart, the thumping never weakening, but fuelledby something different now, not pain, but something sweeter, brighter,something that Aziraphale seems to want as much as Crowley needs to give it.

“Oh, mylove”, the angel mutters into his hair, his lips still leaving kisses on everypatch of skin they can find; they feel like pinpricks, a needle guided throughhis torn flesh to stitch him back together. “If I’d only known, never would Ihave allowed for you to feel this way. Please, say that you believe me, Icouldn’t bear it if you didn’t know how much I care for you.”He pulls back, and when Crowley looks at him, he thinks that for the very firsttime, he might be able to decipher the emotion written across the angel’s face;he knows it, because he’s seen it in his own eyes a thousand times.

“Aziraphale…”, he murmurs, like he istasting the name for the very first time, and perhaps, he does.“I love Her, of course I do”, the angel tells him, and there is desperation inhis tone now, the way his words bleed together. “I couldn’t do anything but loveHer. But She’s not the one I pray to every night. She’s not who saved me. She’snot who I’m in love with. She hasn’tbeen in such a long time.”Soft hands come up to cradle Crowley’s face, as if Aziraphale was afraid of himlooking away and misreading the message the angel has written into his blueeyes in bright, bold letters.

“I haveloved you longer than I realised”, Aziraphale tells him, and Crowley’s heartbursts inside his chest, fills his body up with pain that has been turned sweetby angelic kisses, love that has never burnt hotter than at this moment. “And,being the fool I am, I always thought you knew. I thought –“His voice drifts off, then Aziraphaleshakes his head, his eyes for a moment leaving Crowley’s, before he looks backup at him, determination written into the slant of his lips, the slight flushon his cheeks. “It does not matter”, the angel decides, but as fierce as his words sound, assoft his thumb feels, brushing across Crowley’s cheek; Crowley, who is staringat Aziraphale with wonder, too overwhelmed by what is happening to speak. “Itdoes not matter, because you didn’t know and because I hurt you when there isnothing I ever wanted to do less. Can you forgive me, my heart?”

Aziraphalesounds so painfully earnest, like his heart is breaking as much as Crowley’sdid just minutes ago; there are no words that Crowley could say, so he doesn’t.

Instead, hekisses his answer onto the angel’s lips and tastes the love on them.

Send me a number from this or this or this post and I’ll write you some Good Omens fic!

#good omens #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley #good omens fanfiction #ficlets #Anonymous #also if the lovely anon who requested this wanted to give me their AO3 handle i'd love to gift it to them!!

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