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evansbby · 1 year

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𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | dark!Ari Levinson x innocent!reader, dark!Steve Rogers x innocent!reader, dark!Curtis Everett x innocent!reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | dark, smut, noncon, dubcon, foursome, daddy!kink, oral, anal, physical violence, slapping, mention of alcohol and drugs, insertion of objects, spitting, toys, degradation, dumbification, spanking, very very strongly misogynistic, domesticity kink, slight petplay, bullying, Ari, Curtis and especially Steve being very mean, adultery/cheating, dacryphilia, collars, leashes, free use, sharing is caring.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | Your husband Ari invites his friends Steve and Curtis for poker night. You knew they’d be sharing a few drinks together - what you don’t know is that they plan on sharing you too.

𝐀/𝐍 | This work includes MAJOR misogyny and degradation. The views of these characters do not reflect my own. Please heed warnings and don’t read if this isn’t your cup of tea. Otherwise, enjoy!

“Honey, where the hell are those drinks?” Ari’s voice is loud, booming and dripping with authority as it carries from the living room into the kitchen. Exhaling slowly a few times to steady your hand, you drop the final few ice cubes into your husband’s glass of whiskey, giving the drink a gentle stir before placing it on the tray next to the scotch and the beer.

“Sure, she’s a real looker, but she’s a bit slow.” You hear your husband explain to his friends. “I don’t worry, though, because what she lacks for in brains, she makes up for in other areas.”

“I’d definitely prefer a broad who’s dumb as bricks. I’d say it makes ‘em hotter.” One of his friends responds – you’re too focused on making sure you have their drinks exactly right to notice who it is that’s spoken.

Their laughter echoes and bounces off the walls of the living room, your husband’s the loudest of all.

Your parents had warned you against Ari Levinson. A business tycoon of his magnitude rocking up in your small town? He’d bought up all the small businesses, bulldozed down the local mall and played a hand in more than a handful of people being left unemployed – including both your parents. Your dad called him a ruthless, big city snob. Your mom called him trouble with a capital T. But you called him your husband.

Or daddy.

“She’s a bit on the younger side.” You hear another one of your husband’s friends – Steve Rogers, you think – comment, “You sure she knows what she’s doing?”

“She’ll manage.” Ari sounds smooth and unperturbed, “I’ve got her trained. And she’s well aware of what’ll happen if she messes up.”

You swallow, tray now gripped tightly in your hands as you make your way out of the kitchen.

Ari was charming and friendly when you’d first met him, and he’d swept you off your feet instantly. The naïve, small-town waitress seduced through his sugary sweet words and expensive gifts. The fact that he was so much older than you didn’t seem to matter, not when he made you feel sparks across your body and see stars behind your eyes.

You were married within three weeks of knowing him.

“I hope she does mess up.” Course, almost sadistic laugher echoes from the living room. Curtis. Ari’s other friend. “I’d love to stick around to witness the repercussions.”

You cringe at his insinuation. You know Curtis Everett is married. You also know he has a wild reputation for being a regular at both the town’s strip club and the local whorehouse. What he does for a living is unclear to you – Ari never discusses things like that with you – but he hangs around in the same circles as your husband and drives a nice car, so you assume he must have a lot of money.

“You ever used your belt on her, Levinson?” Steve asks casually. There’s a darkness to Steve Rogers that you can’t quite pinpoint. An air of mystery that no one in town seems to be able to crack – least of all you. All you know is that he’s one of Ari’s business partners, he’s divorced, and he rides a motorbike from time to time.

Your husband smirks, “Wouldn’t you like to know, you sadistic fuck.”

They know you’ve entered the living room, slowly making your way towards them whilst balancing the tray of drinks, yet they still talk about you like you’re not there. But you still feel nervous, despite none of the three men bothering to tear their gazes away from their game of poker to even spare you a glance.

Curtis is nearest to you, so you approach him first, silently holding out the tray of drinks just like Ari has taught you to do with every guest that’s come to visit in the past. And he looks up, head buzzed but facial hair dark and thick as ever. Beard not as thick as Ari’s, but still thick enough. Ocean blue eyes sparkling with intensity, he grabs his beer from the tray, taking a long swig while maintaining eye contact with you.

“That’s a pretty dress you got on, sweetheart.” Curtis leers, his gaze stuck on your cleavage peaking out past the neckline of your dress. After marrying you, Ari made sure you had a wardrobe full of cute dresses and skirts to wear just for him. All pastel and flowery and girly to match his tastes – which Curtis clearly seems to share.

You hesitate, glancing back at Ari with your lip tucked between your teeth. Curtis’ gaze is hungry and wolfish, taking advantage of the close proximity between the two of you. It makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand, being stared at like this. As if you’re an exhibit inside a zoo enclosure, but he’s the animal circling you from the outside.

“Don’t be rude, honey. Tell him thank you.” Your husband’s order is clear and commanding.

“Th-Thank you, Mr. Everett.” Never first names, your husband had told you that his friends – like Ari himself – were not your equals.

You move on to Steve next. He’s sat on the couch, or more like spread out on the couch because he’s taking up more than half the space. Not even sparing you a single glance when you bend down so the tray is level with him, he grabs his scotch and takes a long, calculated sip. A single strand of his dirty blonde hair falls over his forehead. He’s got long hair just like Ari, but where Ari’s is darker and wilder, Steve’s dirty blonde mane is almost always perfectly styled.

“She’s shaking like a scared little kitten.” Steve comments, and he’s looking at you now. Or rather, your body – his blue eyes drinking in all your curves whilst he still has yet to acknowledge you. But sure enough – he’s right. The tray in your hands is shaking despite your many efforts to calm your own nerves. There’s just something… fearsome about the blond sat in front of you. As if one wrong move on your part and he’ll eat you alive…

Curtis grins, “I think she’s scared of you, Rogers.”

Steve is unamused, “I could give her a good reason to be scared.”

You gulp, slowly straightening up and making your way over to Ari, who’s sat on his leather armchair. Handing your husband his whiskey, you take your seat on his knee – your designated place for whenever you guys have company. Very early on in your marriage, Ari had told you that good little wives sit on their husbands’ laps because the couches and chairs were reserved for the men.

His arm encircles around your waist, pulling you close and pressing a soft kiss to your temple. The act of affection relaxes you, tenseness evaporating from your limbs as you settle down against your husband. In his lap you feel so tiny; he’s just so big – they all are. All three of them don’t look an inch below 6’5, and it only adds to the intimidation you feel.

Their poker game resumes, and you try to make sense of it in your head but the truth is you have no idea what’s going on. You never understood the rules of poker, and Ari had just laughed when, in the past, you’d asked him to explain the game to you. “Poker is a men’s game.” He’d said wisely, “Little girls like you just need to sit tight and look pretty, so don’t you worry your dumb little head over it.”

“My wife’s being a fucking bitch.” Curtis breaks the silence with a drawl, cigarette waving in one hand and beer bottle in the other, “Got herself these progressive friends, telling her she doesn’t have to be in the kitchen all the time. Now suddenly she wants to go out for fucking girls’ night – as if she doesn’t have four of my fucking kids to be taking care of.”

Steve snorts, not even looking up from his cards, “You scared you might run into her at the strip club?”

Taking a long drag from his cigarette, Curtis exhales and the smoke billows out past his pink lips slowly, his blue eyes looking straight at you through the grey mist. “I don’t give a shit if I do. Maybe if she knew I was getting pleasure elsewhere, she’d try harder in the bedroom. Fuckin’ bitch.”

“Divorce her. That’s what I did when my broad got too big for her boots.” The blond finally looks up from his deck of cards, his icy blue eyes – like Curtis’ – drinking you in with their intense gaze. “Now Levinson’s got the right idea. Got himself a pretty young thing who doesn’t dare to even breathe unless he tells her to.”

Ari smirks, his thick fingers tracing shapes on your bare thigh, “You got that right. My little angel knows exactly where her place is, don’t you, baby?”

Of course, you know your place. You’d been happy to grant Ari full control of your life from the moment you had met him. He was just so handsome, so sweet, so charming – with seemingly endless amounts of money and praise that he had no problem spending on you. In your naïve eyes, he seemed like a God. And he still does, so you nod.

“Yes, Ari. I know my place.”

“Ari? Is that what she calls you?” Steve’s remark is quick and biting.

Your husband sighs, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. His touch is soft but his gaze hardens, and he doesn’t even have to say anything. His disapproval is evident in the look he gives you, and it makes your heart sink.

The rule is to only call Ari “daddy” when you’re inside the house. But he’s never made you do it when the two of you have company over. The thought of calling him that in front of Curtis and Steve makes your heart beat faster and heat rise to your cheeks. But the possibility of disobeying Ari makes you feel almost sick to your stomach.

“Sorry, I meant daddy. I know my place, daddy.” You correct yourself, earning a soft kiss on your lips from your husband, the simple gesture making you glow inwardly. It’s like your body is now wired to function on his approval. You try not to think about the fact that his friends are right there, because that might make you spontaneously combust with embarrassment.

“Fuckin’ newlyweds,” Curtis growls as he watches you and Ari continue to kiss. He suddenly slams his beer bottle on the coffee table, the loud thud making you jump. “Hey sweetie, get me another beer.”

No please, no thank you. But you scamper to obey anyways – you already know your night’s going to be spent going back and forth from kitchen to living room as you fetch drinks for them. You’re barely on your feet when Ari’s hand smacks your ass hard, the lewd sound echoing across the room along with the squeak of surprise that leaves your mouth.

The men laugh and you scurry out of the room quickly. “Where the hell did you find her, Levinson? She’s shyer than a fuckin’ mouse!” Curtis’ voice booms.

Inside the kitchen and away from their burning gazes, you allow yourself to exhale slowly. You may be overthinking it, but something seems off about tonight. It’s in the way that all three men are looking at you – your husband included. And the dress Ari chose for you is shorter than usual, which doesn’t help much with the staring. They’re treating you like an object, and you honestly don’t know how to feel about that.

“You think she got lost in there?” Steve’s voice is loud enough to carry through the walls and into the kitchen. You sigh, grabbing another bottle of beer from the fridge and making your way back out, being sure to tug your tiny dress down before you return.

“Here you are, Mr. Everett.” You say politely, breath hitching in your throat when his hand brushes against yours as he takes the beer from you.

“At least some women still remember their manners,” The buzzcut-haired man murmurs, “Fuckin’ feminists, ruining this world for the rest of us. You’re still good though, sweetie. Your daddy trained you well, huh?”

“Yes, Mr. Everett.” You disagree with just about everything he’s saying, but you have to keep that to yourself.

It’s hard to not be intimidated when all three men seem to have their eyes glued on you; you can feel their gazes again as you make your way back over to Ari. You’re about to sink back down on his lap when he raises a hand, the simple action making you freeze.

“Why don’t you sit by daddy’s feet for a little while, angel?”

He says it so sweetly, almost like he’s requesting you to do a small favour for him. But the edge in his tone, that unmistakable tinge of darkness dancing around his words can’t be ignored. It’s an order, cleverly disguised as a question although he has no reason to disguise it. But by his feet? On the floor?

You swallow harshly, suddenly remembering your parents’ distressed words of warning when you’d broken the news that you and Ari had eloped: “That man looks at you like you’re a piece of meat. You need to get out while you still can, he doesn’t respect you and he never will.” But you love him. You’re so in love with him that it hurts to disobey him, to upset him in any way, shape or form.

“Is she hard of hearing or something?” Steve’s deep baritone makes you jump inadvertently, not a note of sympathy in his words. “Maybe she isn’t as well trained as you say she is, Levinson. Hey sweetheart,” He clicks his teeth like he’s beckoning a dog, “Are you deaf or just plain dumb?”

Bristling at Steve’s stark meanness, you waste no more time in sinking down to your knees next to Ari’s feet, hands clasped neatly over your lap and chin jutted upwards to look at your husband. And Ari seems cool and collected as ever, taking another long gulp of his whiskey. He doesn’t even look your way, but his hand pats the top of your head – the action bringing you both embarrassment and comfort at the same time.

“To think she asked for a puppy for Christmas.” Ari says offhandedly, “I told her I didn’t have time to take care of two pets.” Again, the men laugh crudely, and you’re left feeling more than a little dejected. But Ari pushes the back of your head forward, making you rest your cheek on his thigh with his fingers raking through your hair and you relax once more.

“Speaking of dumb,” Curtis pipes up as they continue to play poker, “Ransom’s got a new bitch and she’s dumb as hell. Saw her at the club with him the other night, he had her dressed looking like a fuckin’ whore.” He smirks, “The things that girl would do for a line of crack.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?” Steve scoffs.

“Things you can’t even dream of, grandpa.” Curtis slaps his knee and barks out a laugh, “How long’s it been since you got your rocks off, huh?”

The blond shrugs, “At least I’m not a walking STD.”

You want to wrinkle your nose at their conversation but you know that wouldn’t be a good idea. But the way they speak about women is so crass, so dehumanising – it’s almost scary. The only thing keeping you calm right now is Ari’s heavy, warm hand as it strokes the top of your head continuously as if you’re his pet.

“My angel does everything Ransom’s crackwhore does, except she does it for free.” Ari interjects, a satisfied smirk painted on his face.

Curtis’ eyebrow cocks up in interest, and even Steve puts his drink down.

“Yeah? Sweetie, are you a little freak in the sheets?” Curtis asks as he leans forward to toss what’s left of his cigarette into the crystal ashtray that’s on the coffee table.

You immediately look up at Ari, who is now scratching the space behind your ear in a way that really does make you feel like you’re some kind of puppy. Your husband sighs, “Answer him, angel. And don’t look at me like that again. You speak when you’re spoken to, no ifs or buts. Got it?”

“Y-Yes, daddy.” You flinch at his stern tone before turning to look at Curtis. “I… I don’t know, Mr. Everett.”

A snort sounds past Steve’s lips, “She’s a little airhead, isn’t she? Gotta find me one of those. Hey, sweetheart, you ever let your daddy spank you? Fuck you all rough, take it up the ass for him?”

Eyes wide and blood running cold, you can feel the embarrassment coursing through your veins at the blonde’s blunt questions. But the sting of Ari’s disapproval and the threat of disobeying him has you stumbling over an answer:

“Y-Yes, Mr. Rogers. Daddy has done all of that to me.” And more.

Curtis whistles lowly, “Damn, sweetie, wish I had you sitting pretty in my bedroom instead of my cunt wife.”

You let out a soft gasp, immediately waiting with baited breath for Ari to blow up. In the short time you had been together, your husband was always very possessive of you. From giving dirty looks to random men who even dared to look at you, to resorting to violence any time another man tried to talk to you.

But the rules are different for his friends, clearly, because Ari doesn’t move a muscle, coolly downing his whiskey before setting the glass on the crystal coffee table. You almost mewl sadly when his hand stops stroking your head and he stands up.

“I forgot something upstairs,” He says vaguely as he looks down at you, “Honey, can I trust you to look after and entertain my friends while I go upstairs and get it?”

Again, it’s not a question. And the idea of being alone downstairs with Curtis and Steve without the comforting and protective presence of your husband is daunting to say the least. But it’s not like you can say no. You knew the day you married Ari that the word ‘no’ was no longer in your vocabulary.

“Y-Yes, daddy.” You nod subserviently, and your husband grins almost wolfishly. And there’s something about the expression on his face, the slight smirk on his pink lips and the way his tanned skin flushes in excitement – he’s been cool as a cucumber all evening but now? It’s as if he’s got something up his sleeve, and a glance at his friends shows they share the same dark sparkle in their eyes too.

But you don’t have time to ponder over anything, because the next thing you know you’re being hauled up onto your feet, a pained yelp escaping your lips as Ari yanks you upwards with a death grip on your hair.

“You hear that, guys? She said she’d entertain you. Who wants her first?”

It’s like everything’s happening lightning quick – Ari picking you up easily, and you squealing because your dress rides up and you’re pretty sure your panties are visible for a split second before you tug it back down. But that turns out to be the least of your worries because the next thing you know, your husband has unceremoniously dumped you into Steve’s lap.

Like a ragdoll.

“Hey, hey, calm down, sweetheart.” Steve immediately wraps his arms around your waist to stop you from flailing. His words drip with condescension and faux-comfort, and it feels almost alien to be in his arms. You’ve never been held like this by a man apart from your husband, and although Steve is so similar to Ari in build and looks – he’s still not your husband.

“Ari?” You squeak, but the only response you get is the sound of all three men laughing – a sound that you’ve been hearing all night.

“Hush, little baby.” Curtis mocks, reaching out to pull your cheek as if you really are a little baby, “Me and Mr. Rogers, we can be your daddies too, you know? Your daddy said it was okay.”

Your gaze trails dejectedly after Ari, or rather Ari’s back, as you watch him leave the room. And now you’re left with two pairs of steely blue eyes that are so like your husband’s yet so different in so many ways.

“Hand her over,” Curtis demands Steve almost immediately, “God knows I need her little body against me right now. I’m harder than a fucking rock, watching this little sweetheart fetch me beers all night.” He tries to yank you by your arm, but the blonde’s grip on you only tightens, and the younger man frowns, “Give her over, Rogers. She likes me better than you, anyways. Don’t you, sweetie?”

Well, he’s certainly nicer than Steve – but you don’t particularly like either of them right now. And you’re too panicked to answer him. How could Ari leave you alone with these two? And why would he throw you on Steve’s lap as if you were expected to…

Entertain him.

“A little girl like her craves the firm hand of an older man.” Steve responds smoothly, his hand resting on your bare thigh and giving it a soft squeeze that has you practically panting. No other man apart from Ari has touched you like this, and you can feel something so hard underneath you. The blond grips your chin between his thumb and forefinger, “Don’t you, sweetheart? You like men twice your age best, don’t you? Gets your little pussy wet knowing you’re with a man old enough to be your dad?”

Curtis snorts, leaning back and lighting another cigarette, “Clearly. She married Levinson.”

That grabs your attention, and you find yourself shaking your head, “No, me and Ari are in love!”

You’re serious with your claim, and you don’t expect the two older men to burst out laughing. Loud, booming laughter that makes you even more uncomfortable than you already are. Beneath you, you can feel Steve’s hard crotch rubbing against your bottom as he laughs, his chest snug against your back as he holds you close with one muscular arm.

“Sure, sweetie, he loves you a lot. So much, in fact, that he’s willing to share you with his friends.”

You frown at Curtis’ statement – what does he mean by share?

You find out not two seconds later when Steve’s huge hands find the zipper of your dress, fingers deft and quick in unzipping you. Gasping, you try and wiggle away again but to no avail. “Mr. Rogers! Wh-What are you doing!?”

“Stay the fuck still,” Steve orders you, “Gotta get you out of this dress. As pretty as it is, I prefer my toys naked and compliant.” The straps of the dress are pushed down your shoulders, and Curtis joins in too, pulling the fabric down your body.

Blood rushes to your face, but for some reason your protests barely make it past your lips with how feeble they seem to be. Having both older men’s hands on you, pawing at you lewdly and practically shredding your dress to pieces with their impatience to get you naked; for some reason you feel your pussy throb.

No, no you can’t! You can’t betray Ari like this! So then why do you bite back a moan when Steve finally rips your dress in two, throwing the sorry-looking flowery rags to the floor before he cups both your breasts (Ari had told you not to wear a bra tonight), squeezing the soft flesh and rolling your hard nipples between his thumb and forefinger. Curtis’ rough and calloused palm immediately cups your pussy through your pale pink panties that Ari had chosen for you.

“Did you wet yourself, little girl? Or are you just excited?” He asks, grinding his palm down against your covered mound, making you gasp out loud. And you’ve always lacked willpower – Ari’s punished you enough times for it in the past – so you can’t help but buck your hips against Curtis’ hand, feeling the shame wash over you but not caring enough to stop.

“Look at her, humping against my hand already like a little slut – almost like she’s an eager little virgin or something. I guess Ari never taught her anything about self-control.” The buzzcut-haired man comments.

Steve smirks, still toying with your breasts as if he hasn’t touched a woman in years; squeezing them and pressing them together, holding you taut against him as you flail on top of him from all the mixed sensations you’re currently feeling.

“She’s all riled up from earlier. Pretty pussy’s all wet from fetching our drinks all night, or maybe it’s because she’s cheating on her husband. Hey! Stay the fuck still, you dumb fucking slut!” Steve growls suddenly, because Curtis chooses that moment to slap your panty-covered pussy hard, and your whole body convulses on top of Steve.

“Give her a drink, maybe it’ll calm her down.” Curtis nods to the glass of half-finished scotch on the coffee table, “It’s too bad Levinson didn’t want to drug her for this. Something about fucking a girl who’s half unconscious really gets me going.”

“No way. Half the fun is in the way she wails and fights back. Look at her now, conflicted and guilty because she’s feeling so good. She can’t even keep still, rutting like a little bunny in heat. Hey, sweetheart, have a sip.” Steve nudges his glass of scotch against your lips and you wrinkle your nose, eyes wide as saucers.

“Daddy doesn’t allow me to drink.”

“Daddy doesn’t allow me to drink,” Curtis mimics you cruelly, making his voice all high-pitched, “Sweetie, your daddy left us in charge of you, so drinking a little bit of alcohol is the least of your worries. Now open up.”

You part your lips, ready to take a timid sip except Steve has different plans – he tips the glass over your face, the burning liquid sloshing all down your front. It’s icy cold against your skin, dripping down your neck and over your chest. Curtis groans, immediately dipping his head down to lick the liquid off of you. And his rough tongue against your smooth skin has you crying out as he licks a tantalising trail between your breasts, before his mouth latches onto your nipple, suctioning hard and practically fitting your whole breast into his mouth, making a show of it and moaning lewdly the whole time.

“Dumb baby,” Steve tsk-tsks, “Look at the mess you made. Wasting all of daddy’s drink. Apologise, right now.”

You hiccup, mind slowly going empty with Curtis going to town on your tits with no sign of slowing down. And he’s still got one hand pressing between your legs, and that mixed with the feel of Steve’s hard dick poking your ass from underneath has your mind going empty at a faster rate than ever. You involuntarily buck up against Curtis’ hand again, your pussy weeping already and you know you’re embarrassingly wet, and –

SMACK.

The force of the slap across your face leaves you winded and shocked, as does the stinging pain now spreading across your cheek.

“When I tell you to apologise, you apologise.” Steve warns sternly, and Curtis finally looks up, licking his full pink lips at the site of you with your head whipped to the side.

You feel your breathing grow ragged and your lower lip wobble, the pain and embarrassment almost too much for you to handle. Salty tears well in your eyes, a natural response to the slap you’ve just received, and you sniffle softly.

Ari reappears at that moment, and your heart swells at the sight of your husband. He always makes you feel so safe, so familiar – unlike the man whose lap you’re currently splayed out over. Like a baby, you outstretch your arms towards him. “Daddy! H-He… He hit me!”

That proclamation has Curtis beside himself with laughter, “Hear that, Steve? She just tattled on you! Like a little girl running to her daddy.”

Ari crouches down till he’s level with your face, grabbing your chin firmly between his thumb and forefinger, “He hit you, honey?”

“Yeah!”

“Where?”

Your hand is shaky as you point to your cheek which still throbs with pain. Steve hadn’t held back with his slap, and now he sits back with you still on his lap and a smile on his face, not an ounce of regret visible in his demeanour, as if he’s admiring his handiwork.

Ari’s own hand reaches out to stroke your stinging cheek softly, and you nuzzle into his palm, welcoming his touch. Steve is horrifically mean and Curtis is crass and rude, but your daddy is the best. He knows how to treat you right, knows exactly how to make you feel better with just a simple, soft touch –

SMACK.

You can hardly believe it when Ari strikes you across the face, the blow almost as hard as Steve’s, and now you burst out crying in earnest.

“Poor baby,” Curtis coos, lighting up his third cigarette of the hour and taking a long drag before puffing the smoke directly in your face. You cough harshly, his smoke filling your lungs and adding to your discomfort, but he doesn’t seem to care; “I guess that’s what you get for being a slut and cheating on your daddy with his two best friends.”

Ari strokes the side of your face where pain still blooms from his blow, and you find yourself flinching now, scared he’s going to hit you again. His eyes locked with your own tearful ones; and you don’t even notice the collar in his hand until he waves it in front of your face. In a voice beguiling, and so falsely gentle, he speaks as if he’s talking to a toddler: “Now honey, can you read what this collar says?”

Ari has made you wear plenty of collars in the past; you have your special pink one – the one with his initials on it as well as the words “daddy’s princess.” That one’s definitely your favourite. You also have a black one that says ‘daddy’s property’ which is nice too. But this collar in Ari’s hands, this one is new. It’s jet-black leather with silver studs, and a matching silver dog-tag that dangles from the front, glistening in the light with only one word inscribed on it:

Whore

You blubber softly, cheeks still stinging with pain and now a matching sting in your heart. What exactly is happening right now? You wonder to yourself as Ari fastens the collar around your neck while Steve holds you in place with a death grip.

“I asked you something, sweet girl. Did you read what the collar says?”

“Y-Yes, daddy.” You sniffle, “Says whore.”

“It does. Because that’s what you are for tonight.” Ari chuckles softly at the bewildered look on your face, stroking your cheek once more in time with Steve who is now running his hands through your hair. “Angel, you’re new to this whole marriage and relationships thing – so I understand that you’re too dumb to know how it works. But good little wives not only offer their services to their husbands, but to their husbands’ friends too. And that’s what you’ll be doing tonight.”

You feel like he’s dumped a bucket of ice water on your head, “B-But…But…”

“No, Angel. No ‘buts,’ remember?” Ari taps your cheek lightly as if to remind you of the pain his palm is capable of inflicting. “You don’t want to be like Curtis’ wife, do you? A dumb, wild broad who believes she can think for herself? No, that’s not you. You’re good and innocent and you’ll do exactly what daddy says, won’t you? Because men don’t like women who think they have any power in this world – it turns us off more than anything else. Do you want to turn me off, baby? Do you want to disappoint me?”

“No!” You cry, and you’d have reached out to wrap your arms around Ari’s neck if it weren’t for Steve holding you close to his own chest, his breath hot against the back of your neck, “No, daddy! Never wanna disappoint you! I’ll do wh-whatever you guys want me to do.”

Steve is unforgiving when he drops you on the floor, and you wince as you land painfully on your ass. “Be a good whore then.” He says bluntly, “Hands and knees. Lick my shoe.”

It’s not the first time that night that shock courses through your veins, but three pairs of blue eyes have now locked in on you, with hungry and expectant gazes that make you believe that you are the object that they want you to be, that they undoubtedly see you as. And so you gulp and get into position, naked and kneeling before the blond, his boots scuffed and slightly dirty as you stare at them from eye level.

“She’s got a great ass.” Curtis remarks crudely, the men casually falling back into conversation whilst you will yourself to part your lips, peak your tongue out and give Steve’s shoe a tentative lick. And then another. You stifle a soft gasp when you feel Curtis’ rough hand on your bottom, patting it as if you’re an animal at an auction, “If she was mine, I’d have her naked and crawling around on all fours all the time, this peachy ass is too fuckable to hide underneath clothes.”

“It’s the first thing I noticed about her.” Ari agrees, and his hand joins Curtis’, grabbing onto your other cheek and giving it a firm squeeze, “She was working at some dingy diner… Had this tiny fuckin’ dress on – called it a ‘uniform’. Didn’t even know her back then but I got an eyeful of her little girl panties every time she bent over. Fuckin’ slut. She gave out not fifteen minutes later.”

Your cheeks burn, but you concentrate on Steve’s shoe, licking it as if your life depends on it. And despite everything, despite how inhumane and disrespectful and shameful and objectifying the act is, there’s something about kneeling in front of a powerful man like Steve, or like Ari or Curtis, that makes your pussy throb with need.

“Make the leather shine, whore.” Steve is so stark, so to-the-point with his orders; he shoves his boot in your face, rubbing it over your lips, chin and cheeks and covering your sensitive skin in a mix of your own spit and dirt. “You like that, don’t you? Like being treated with no respect like all little girls like you should be. You’re nothing more than the dirt beneath my shoe, sweetheart. Remember that.”

“Y-Yes, daddy.” You find yourself saying between licks. Being the main object of attention between these three men has you wetter and steadily growing dumber by the second.

Your panties – the last article of clothing covering your modesty – are roughly ripped off of you, the soggy fabric landing on the floor next to your face. Steve’s hands grip your hair tightly, jerking you roughly upwards till you’re level with his dick, cowering between his parted thighs. Less than a second later, he’s unzipped himself, pulling his dick out and nudging it against your lips, “Open up, whore.”

The only man whose dick you’ve sucked prior to this is Ari – and Steve is a lot less forgiving. Stuffing his length into your barely parted mouth, the blond moves you by the hair, guiding your lips up and down his fat dick, and you were already crying but fresh tears well in your eyes from the choking feeling of fullness, your nose smacking against his pelvis as he manhandles you.

“Wish she’d been a virgin up here.” Curtis mutters, completely unperturbed by the fact that you’re currently choking on Steve’s dick, and you feel a rush of cool air when he spreads your ass cheeks, “Would’ve been so much fun to break into her little asshole.”

“I couldn’t hold off on that,” Ari’s fingers are deft and confident, tracing the rim of your puckered hole like he’s done countless times before and making your entire body shiver from head to toe. “She let me fuck her ass on our second date. She’s still tight up there, though. Try and finger her, you won’t even get one in.”

Curtis spits, his saliva dripping down the crevice of your ass, pooling around your asshole where Ari works it in with his pointer finger, the thick ring of muscle practically closing up around him, barely allowing an inch of his digit in. You involuntarily wiggle, trying to move your hips backwards to meet their fingers as Curtis joins in. But while Ari is teasing, Curtis is straightforward – wasting no time in ramming his pointer finger up your ass. The pain blooms almost immediately, making you cry out around Steve’s dick.

“Ah, she’s a good little cocksucker, Ari.” Steve comments, his grip on your hair so tight it hurts, “But she can’t take my whole dick in, can she? Look at her, already crying and I’m not even halfway inside of her.” Once more, he slaps your cheek before tapping it in quick succession, “Hey, cockslut, did your daddy not teach you how to deepthroat?”

He pulls his dick out of your mouth, the loss of contact making you pout despite the fact that you were practically choking not a second ago. “S-Sorry, daddy. T-Too big, it’s too big. Mouth’s too small – oh fuck!” You lurch forward when you feel something warm and wet lapping at your puckered hole – it’s Curtis’ tongue, hungry and desperate against your tight hole, his hands roughly pushing apart your ass cheeks.

Ari’s fingers slip down to your sopping core, your wetness dripping down and staining the carpet, making it so easy for your husband’s knowing fingers to glide up and down your slit, circling your clit in a way that has you panting and grinding back into his hand, earning a slap on your wiggling bum in the process.

“Needy baby,” Ari murmurs, and you’re about to whine, beg for him to stop teasing, when your head whips to the side once more from a rush of contact. Steve’s gripping his huge dick in his hand, and it looks so hard and angry as he slaps you across the face with it. Once, twice, three times till you’re wailing like a baby.

“She’s so fucking hot when she cries.” Steve comments, rubbing his dick over your face now as if he’s a feral animal trying to mark you with his scent, pressing the bulbous tip of his cock against your lips and you can’t help but pathetically part them, mouth gaping to taste him again. But he moves on, rubbing his length and his balls over your cheeks, nose, just all over. “You like being a messy whore? Want daddy to smear your face with cum, spit and dirt, get you looking like a proper slutty whore?”

“Y-Yeah, please!” You cry softly, and Steve grins.

Ari’s two knuckles deep into your pussy by this point, his fingers so deliciously thick as he pumps in and out. He knows exactly how to curve his digits, and at what angle, making your back arch from doing the bare minimum, causing you to press your ass further into Curtis’ face and eager tongue.

“She tastes like a dream.” Curtis’ voice is muffled, hands reaching up to slap and squeeze your ass obscenely, as if the flesh is his personal stress-ball, “God, Levinson. Why didn’t you think of sharing her before? With a sweet tasting ass like hers…” It’s like he can’t help himself, his beard prickling your skin as he dips his head back down, tongue practically making out with your puckered hole.

He tries to shove another finger in, but barely manages to fit in the tip of it. “God, a sweet ass that’s also tight as fuck? No wonder you call her an angel.”

Ari smirks, “Told you. I gotta take my time loosening her up before I fuck her up there. Or you could hold her down and force yourself in. She’ll cry either way.”

You whimper needily between them. It’s crazy how they continue to talk about you as if you’re not splayed naked right there. But it turns you on beyond belief, the idea that you’re just an object to them, that they can discuss you as easily as they would discuss what’s on the morning news. It makes you want them even more, especially now that Curtis has lifted his head up, Ari’s fingers have stalled and even Steve has pushed your face back down to his boot.

The blond is busy palming his dick as he now gazes down hungrily at your exposed ass, “If we’re gonna vote on it, I say force it in. She’s just a hole at the end of the day, and she’s going to be taking more than one cock up her ass tonight regardless.”

Mewling softly, you reach out with grabby hands for one of them, as if silently begging them to keep touching you, to give you some sort of contact because all of it seems to have stopped as the three older men casually discuss your body. You can feel your slick pouring down and coating your thighs, making them sticky with your arousal but you don’t dare to touch yourself.

“P-Please, daddy, please touch me.” You don’t know who you’re addressing, but your desire overtakes your fear of the three intimidating men. Face nuzzling Steve’s calf, ass wiggling pointedly towards Curtis and hips grinding down on the carpet below you, you know shame is something you’ve left far, far behind. “Please. Need–wanna be touched!”

Ari’s fingers find your mouth, pushing past your lips and effectively shutting you up.

“I don’t know. There are certainly other ways to stretch her out.” The mischief is evident in Curtis’ eyes when he suddenly reaches for something on the coffee table. Your eyes, hazy with lust, follow his hand, breath hitching when he grabs his now empty beer bottle.

“What do you think, sweetie?” Curtis asks you, “You want daddy to stuff this bottle up your ass like you’re some kind of cheap whore performing tricks at the brothel?”

You cower as Ari gathers you into his lap, your back against his chest and his hands gripping your bare thighs, spreading them wide open for the other two men to see, pussy spread open and splayed out with wetness trickling down your thighs, glistening and embarrassingly obvious.

“She looks scared.” Steve remarks, “You scared, sweetheart?”

You quiver in your husband’s arms, nodding in response although your fearful eyes don’t leave the bottle in Curtis’ hand. The neck alone is daunting, and the rest of the bottle has an even wider girth that makes your unprepped asshole twitch in fear.

“Use your words when you’re talking to me.” The blond growls, irritation clouding over his handsome features.

“Y-Yeah, I’m scared.” You answer softly.

“But you’re gonna do it anyways, aren’t you?” Ari sings in your ear, slapping your thigh to spread your legs out even further, bending your knees and adjusting you so that your rear hole is in full view. And you’re so wet, so incredibly wet that your juices spill down to stain Ari’s jeans and the couch.

You turn to look at your husband with pleading eyes, hoping to find a semblance of pity in his handsome face, “D-Daddy, please. Please don’t make me – AH!”

Again, your face is whipped to the side with another unforgiving slap, and Ari smiles down at you so casually, as if he’s just kissed you good-morning instead of slapped you in the face. “Honey, you know better than to deny your daddies.”

That’s how you find yourself laid out on the coffee table, three pairs of eyes belonging to three very intimidating and powerful men staring down at you as if you’re a piece of meat and they’ve been starving for days.

“Stay the fuck still, whore.” Curtis barks; he’s got your legs over his shoulders to give him better access to your puckered hole, grip harsh as he tries to keep you from flailing around. Your hole’s been stretched out by his and Ari’s thick fingers and a mix of your wetness and his saliva, but it still burns as he tries to force the thicker end of the beer bottle into you.

“H-Hurts!” You mewl, blindly grabbing at anything you can – which happens to be the collar of Steve’s shirt. Ruthlessly, the blond shoves your hand off of him, instead guiding it to his erect dick which is still wet from your saliva.

“If you’re gonna grab on to something, might as well be useful about it.” His dick is so thick, and just as big as Ari’s from what you can feel. Your little hand barely wraps around it, but you can’t even focus on pleasuring him because of the violating pain of the beer bottle being stuffed up your ass.

Ari guides your other hand to wrap around his dick, which is now also out of his unzipped jeans. “C’mon baby, jack us off the way I taught you to. The way I like it.” His tone is mesmerising, it’s almost instinctive when you obey, pumping the two thick dicks in your hands, trying to focus on their veiny girth and the way they twitch against your palms, how hard they feel, how big they both are.

“Oh, fuck, daddy, it hurts!” You cry out again, legs tightening around Curtis’ shoulders as he continues to stuff the unforgiving glass bottle up your ass. The buzzcut-haired man swats your thigh warningly, dislodging the bottle from your puckered hole completely, leaving you gaping as he swirls it around your pussy, gathering your wetness on its surface before returning it to your ass.

“Cut the complaining, baby girl. Your daddy already told us you’re a slut for anal, how much you love taking cock up your ass. How is this bottle any different, huh?” Curtis kisses up your thigh, slowly staring to fuck the bottle in and out of your ass as he sucks on your sensitive skin – no doubt leaving a mark in the process.

Meanwhile, Steve guides your hand to his balls, making you fondle and squeeze them, play with them indecently while the blonde grunts lowly, “God, wish my bitch of an ex-wife was half as compliant as you. What made you decide to become such a slutty whore, huh sweetheart?”

“W-Wanted to please daddy.” You answer quickly, knowing that if you didn’t then there’d be hell to pay – and probably another slap.

Ari smirks, brushing your hair out of your face almost tenderly as you continue to jack him off, “Damn right. It’s beautiful how just a few months ago, you were a naïve little virgin, and just look what a cockslut you’ve turned into now.”

“She’s still naïve, I’d say.” Curtis pipes up, his bicep muscles tensing as he shallowly fucks you with the beer bottle, in and out and in and out so rhythmically yet you’re seeing stars created from your own pain and sick pleasure.

“Naïve? More like dumb. Don’t think I’ve met a slut with an emptier head – but that’s what makes her the perfect wife, I guess.” Steve muses.

Being the “perfect wife” leads to you splayed out on the coffee table while the three men return to their seats, leaving you panting, unsated and still with the beer bottle lodged up your ass.

“Keep your legs open, angel.” Ari commands you, picking his deck of cards back up and that’s when you realise that they plan to ignore you and continue with their poker game instead. A low whine sounds past your lips at the thought.

“Look at her, crying like a baby again. She’s used to you spoiling her, Ari. Bet she thinks we were gonna make her cum or something.” Curtis snickers, kicking his feet up on the table, dangerously close to your pussy.

“P-Please – n-not fair – wanna cum so bad!” You cry softly, wanting to touch your pussy so badly but not knowing whether or not you had the permission to do it. And you’d much rather have one of them touch you, knowing it would feel so much better.

“You’re the entertainment tonight, before anything else, whore. The entertainment doesn’t get to cum until your daddies say so.” Steve says firmly, holding his cards in one hand and pumping his dick leisurely with the other, hungry blue eyes devouring the sight of you in such a compromising position in front of him, “You’re going to stay like that while your daddies play our game, and you better fuck yourself with that bottle the whole time.”

So that’s what you do, pursing your lips in pain as you do it. Never in a million years did you imagine yourself being used as the visual entertainment for your husband and his friends; naked and splayed out while they made you fuck yourself with a beer bottle. You can feel your asshole stretch and burn at the intrusion; eyes scrunching shut from the pain that blooms. But your pussy is so wet, slick cream pooling on the coffee table underneath you in the filthiest sight imaginable.

“God, she looks hot as fuck.” Curtis is quick to comment, his boot nudging your thighs open even more so he can get a better look, “You ever think of doing porn, sweetie? You’d be a natural, just look at the way you’re putting on such a filthy show for your daddies.”

Almost instinctively, you arch your back, the bottle making obscene squelching noises as you fuck it past the tight ring of your asshole, little pants leaving your mouth as if you’re a dog in heat.

“She’s enjoying herself.” Steve clicks his tongue at the observation, barely looking up from his deck of cards.

“You’re not allowed to cum, angel. Remember that.” Ari says casually, his words making you mewl in frustration.

But it’s hard not to cum when you’re so wet, and Curtis’ boot keeps nudging against your leg, inching closer and closer to your pussy till the sole grazes against your clit and you gasp loudly, jerking forward, “AH, daddy!”

The older men all ignore you, continuing their own conversation whilst you shiver and convulse and whimper between them, trussed up like a Christmas turkey, trying your best to focus and keep your legs apart as you continue to sheath your poor, quivering asshole with the beer bottle.

But more than the beer bottle, all you can really focus on is Curtis’ boot and how he’s so obviously pressing it against your wet folds, making the leather glisten with your juices. Half panicked, you whip your head towards Ari, wondering if he sees what his friend is doing. But your husband seems determined to ignore you – almost as if you’re not even there.

“Daddy,” you cry softly, not really knowing who you’re crying for. It’s instinctive and slightly shameful when you can’t help but grind down against Curtis’ boot, your pussy squelching and needy from being treated like a whore. And the buzzcut haired man doesn’t even acknowledge you, cigarette lazily caught between his lips as he digs his boot into your wet cunt.

It doesn’t take long until you’re riding his boot, grinding down on it as if your life depends on it, panting like you’re in heat as his shoe swirls around your wetness. Your cream coating the leather, he digs into your clit, nudging at your sensitive bundle of nerves and making you moan out wantonly in pleasure.

“Ah, ah daddy–oh fuck!”

You’re squirting all over his shoe before you ever realise what’s happening, so much of your cream now pooling on the coffee table that it’s made the surface slippery. And Curtis continues to push his boot cruelly into your sensitive button, and like a thirsty whore you hump against him, riding out your high and forgetting that there’s anyone else in the room.

“Levinson, looks like your whore wife doesn’t know how to follow instructions.”

Ari leans down over your quivering form, “Honey, what did I say about not cumming?” His voice brims with disappointment and you just want to bury your face in your hands.

“ ‘m sorry,” you hiccup, “C-Couldn’t help it. Mr. Ev-Everett – He used his shoe… wouldn’t stop!”

“Look at her, tattling to her daddy again.” Curtis laughs, getting to his feet and giving your ass a hard smack that has you howling with pain, “You’re lucky I’m not gonna make you lick your mess off my shoe, you horny bitch. But I think I’ll give my wife the honour of doing that when I get home tonight.”

Your eyes are wide as saucers as Ari helps your shaky body get on your hands and knees on the coffee table. From his pocket, he pulls out a leather leash, casually hooking it to your collar and tying the other end around the leg of the table, effectively trapping you in place.

“Stay still honey, and stick your ass out nicely so I can see it,” Ari commands softly, and it’s the gentleness in his voice that scares you the most. Because you’ve broken his rule – you’ve cum without permission, and you can’t even begin to imagine what’s going to happen now.

It’s the deathly quiet that has your heart beating harder than ever, this ominous sense of foreboding building up as the three men surround you like a pack of depraved wolves. Hunger in their eyes and hands itching to touch your body as they close in on you slowly, and Ari strokes your hair softly – but it feels like the softness that precedes the inevitable blow…

“I told you not to cum without permission, honey.” Ari breathes in your ear, “I guess you’ll have to learn how to follow orders the hard way, won’t you?”

Your breath hitches when you hear the unmistakable sound of Steve’s belt as he unbuckles it.

Well! There we go! The truth is, I wrote this fic many, many months ago and lost inspiration to complete it - which is why it ends where it does. I would never say never to a potential part 2, but who knows! I feel like I’m in my soft dom loving era atm, so this kind of depraved stuff isn’t as easy for me to write anymore. But do tell me what you think, as I know a lot of you have been waiting for this for many months! Please reblog and comment and let me know what you think! Any thots and ideas about this fic are also totally welcome! I hope you enjoyed.

#chris evans #ari levinson #steve rogers #curtis everett #dark steve rogers #dark ari levinson #ari levinson x reader #steve rogers x reader #chris evans fanfiction #curtis everett x reader

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peterfankoffski · 2 months

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okay okay hear me out. hatchetfield/ever after high au

i maaaaaayyy have been thinking about this since. the day i saw abstinence camp. in my defense dexven and lautski are the same ship and nobody likes either of these things more than me (/j) so like. rundown of ideas i had (and one piece of inspo from a gc i'm in)

Stephanie Lauter, daughter of the Evil King: Yeah, I'm just fully reusing Raven's backstory here. Steph's born into wickedness and expected to one day inherit her father's throne and oppress her people and possibly curse the future Snow White. Which earns her respectful fear from her fellow "evil" peers, fearful respect from most of her classmates, and dread from herself, because she doesn't want to be anything like her dad, for better or for worse, even if it means risking going poof. Doesn't really help she's just not a good student in the classes assigned to her and her father keeps telling her she'll be a terrible Evil Queen anyway. Would absolutely prefer to write her own destiny. Her current plans involve doing fuck-all as an adult.

Peter Spankoffski, son of one of the Generic Charming Families: More specifically, the ones from Beauty and the Beast. One problem. He wasn't exactly planned. His big brother has already lived out being the beast and a noble lady named Jenny broke Ted's curse yeeeeaaarrrs ago, so Pete's already seen what should be his story play out in real time. And given the assumption that Ted and Jenny's kid would take on one of their roles, Pete's not sure he even has a destiny. Pretty much ostracized by most of his peers for so obviously not having a destiny. He's the only non-villian not inherently scared of Steph, and when they talk it's all like "god, you're so lucky your story isn't a shitshow" "at least you have a story" and eventually they kinda further break destiny by dating because they are literally just Raven and Dexter in another font.

Ruth Fleming, daughter of The Mad Hatter: @mythuzalasheir3 suggested this one to me and I was so inclined to agree. Ruth is so Wonderlandian to me. She's theatrical, she's eccentric and not willing to turn it down, will just say what's on her mind as she sees it. Taking a bit from the books canon, she does sorta resent Steph at first for her father going off-book and poisoning Wonderlandian magic, but after Pete urges her to actually talk to her as they start hanging out more, she sees Steph isn't as scary as she thought and very quickly gets comfortable turning up her madness and speaking Riddlish around her like she does with her other friends. Speaking of which.

Richie Lipschitz, son of the Wizard of Oz: Yes. I really am making Pete the odd one out. Ruth is Wonderlandian, Richie is an (honorary) Ozian. Sue me. This basically stems from how Richie was in charge of taping the prank in the Waylons/putting on the music, so knowing he has special effects know-how, he is going to have a blast doing the hologram head thing in the Emerald City for a few decades. He also plans on introducing pop culture stuff to Oz, too, not just more science. Nerd. I think he's iconic for it.

(Side note: neither Ruth nor Richie can believe that they're just casually best friends with a prince, even though Pete really doesn't want it to be a big deal).

Grace Chasity, daughter of the Temple Woman from The Little Mermaid: Right. History time. If you're not familiar with the original version of TLM, after the mermaid brings the prince back to shore, a girl from a Christian monastery finds the prince, and he believes she saved him instead of the mermaid. And also she and the prince are married by the end. I chose this fully because she's very proud of the fact she already has an immortal soul, and doesn't have to do anything for a happily ever after other than be in the right place at the right time. She does not give a damn about who her prince is as long as they stick to the script. Basically, she's a Royal out of necessity more than anything.

Max Jagerman, son of another Charming Clan: More specifically, he's destined to be the Rapunzel's prince. He's in with Steph because he thinks it's a good idea to be on the good side of all royals in his class. But not Storiless Spankoffski. He does NOT fraternize with people whose existence could poof away a whole story. For as much as he tries to fit the example of Perfect Royals Accepting Their Destiny, he does still have a target of affection not in his story: Grace. Being much more stereotypically Royal than him, she keeps rejecting him due to not being interested and not even part of his story. Doesn't stop him from trying.

The Lords in Black, the heads of Ever After High: Everyone has a destiny. They're here to run the school and enforce them, and also dictate the destinies of the more ambiguous cases like Charming Number Twenty-Seven or "how do we find a replacement for a character who is dead." They say there's a spider in the basement but don't even worry about it, they'll take care of it eventually.

Webby, the Weaver in the Basement: Basically taking the place of Giles Grimm, her brothers have let her have less and less involvement with destinies over the years, so she's spinning up happier endings that hopefully won't go poof in solitude. Would definitely encourage Steph to follow her heart instead of her destiny.

Henery Hidgens as the Magic Botany teacher, and also former Jack of Jack the Giant Slayer fame: man I just think this would be funny

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dulcesiabits · 1 year

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sacred are these hands of yours.

summary: Mhin interrupts your outing with Vere, for reasons they don’t understand.

notes: 921 words, drabble, fluff, jealousy, Vere makes some innuendoes, spoilers for/reference to the demo

The problem with you, Mhin thinks, is that you were the sun.

Someone that burns their eyes if they look at you for too long. Someone that brings all the dark creatures in the city scrambling for a piece of your warmth. Someone who, for whatever damned reason, lets Vere drape himself over you like a fur scarf, his face much too close as he whispers something inane in your ear.

Whoever you decide to call a friend is your own business. But it’s hard for Mhin to tear their eyes away when Vere is hugging you like a– like a lover, his arms tangled around your torso. The two of you were in public, but you didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, you throw back your head and laugh at something Vere says, which causes his tail to swish pleasedly.

It’s not as if there’s something strange about intimacy. This is hardly the raunchiest thing that has ever graced the public streets of Eridia. But something about the way Vere leans his head against you. Something about the way you pat his shoulder affectionately. Something about the fact it’s Vere by your side, with his flirtations and effortless charm, easy with people in a way they could never be.

Something about that makes their stomach turn. You have bad taste, they decide. Terrible taste.

Whatever business they have can wait; it’s their job, isn’t it, to make sure Monsters and Soulless aren’t plaguing the streets? So this has nothing to do with you personally. You were nothing more than someone they have established an uneasy alliance with, and they couldn’t have you jeopardizing their plans by consorting with a Monster.

They’re halfway across the street before they realize it. Vere’s ears prick up at their footsteps, despite their attempts to be stealthy.

“Mhin,” he greets with a sly smile, tossing his head. “Care to join us? I don’t mind taking one more person.”

Mhin’s eyes linger on Vere’s arm, still slung around your shoulder. “You’re not the one I’m here to talk to.”

“What’s up, Mhin?” you say. “I thought you were busy patrolling today.”

“I am,” they respond bluntly. “And you’re adding to my workload. I need to talk to you about something.”

“What is it?”

“It’s something we can’t talk about with other people here,” they emphasize.

“Don’t mind me, Mhin. I’d love to join your little duo and make it a threesome,” Vere says.

At this distance, they could smell Vere’s perfume on you, something cloying and unpleasant.

“We should really talk in private,” Mhin repeats. “So get lost, Vere.”

“Touchy! It’s a good thing I like it when people treat me roughly.” Vere leans closer to you, eyes gleaming. “It looks like I’ll have to see you later, sweetheart.”

Mhin reacts before they know what they’re doing; just as Vere leans in to kiss your cheek, they grab you by the shoulder and yank you away.

“Mhin?” you say incredulously. “What the hell was that for?”

It’s at this point Vere breaks out into laughter. “Oh, I know Ais and Leander are going to love it when they hear about this.”

“Shut up,” Mhin growls, their cheeks heating. Foolish. They were so foolish. They’d fallen into Vere’s trap without a second thought. At the very least, the only price they’d need to pay would be their pride… and Vere’s taunting remarks for the next few weeks.

You shake off Mhin’s hand. “If you really needed to talk to me, you could have just said something. Don’t just tug me around like that.” Then, you nudge them with your shoulder. “So? Where do you want to go to talk?”

They focus on you, trying to ignore Vere, still laughing in the periphery of their version. “I know somewhere. Just come with me.”

You say goodbye to Vere, and follow Mhin through the streets. By the end of the day, would you smell a little more like them, rather than Vere? Normally, though, they smell like blood, the tang of iron never fading no matter how many times they wash– They shake their head. Far too many foolish thoughts fill their mind when they’re with you.

The truth is, they don’t have any new information to share with you, nothing that you don’t know already. But it’s fine; they could make something up. Why had they pulled you away from Vere like that? Mhin can’t understand their own behavior sometimes.

Something about you drove them crazy. The way you smiled, the curve of your lips. Your desperation, the familiar taste of it. The way you gaze at them: with irritation, with mirth, with joy. You gaze at them, and never look away.

You should’ve been nothing more than someone they could easily discard the moment it was inconvenient. You have your own agenda. They have theirs. An alliance should only last as long as you need each other, and no longer.

So why couldn’t they let you go?

The problem is that Mhin wants to know what your touch feels like: your hands in their hair, your hands on their skin. The problem is that desire is dangerous, and if they weren’t careful, they would fly too close and burn themself, feathers melting away one by one as they plunged into the sea. The problem is that they don’t care if they get burned, lose their mind and their very self, not if you could hold them just once.

How warm would the sun’s hands be?

#liya writes #touchstarved #mhin #mhin touchstarved #mhin x reader #mhin touchstarved x reader #touchstarved x reader #do u guys still think im sexy if i release a fic about a game thats still in development <3 #mhin my beloved!!!! i saw them. blacked out. and woke up with a fully formed fic

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jasonscaramel · 7 months

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i guess only the stars would know the truth - chapter one - jason todd x reader

series summary: there's something going on in gotham. you transfer into gotham university's journalism program. simultaneously, people are going missing in gotham at record rates. it's only a matter of time before your curiosity gets the best of you.

words: 1.8k

cross-posted on ao3 | series masterlist

Gotham is a welcome change in scenery from your small town in the south.

Sure, it rains nearly every day, and there’s the fact that there are supervillains that terrorize the city like clockwork. But having never lived in a big city before, it has a certain charm you don’t see yourself getting over any time soon. Everything is open late, the streets never seem to quiet down… it’s been eye-opening, to say the least.

You moved here more for the convenience, so it’s only a plus that you enjoy city life too. Gotham University is home to one of the best journalism professors—and in turn, programs—in the country. With affordable tuition, and the cost of living in Gotham being nearly pennies on the dollar, it was a no-brainer to transfer here.

So here you are. Making your way through the winding, labyrinthian halls, you wonder if you’re ever going to get used to how large this place is compared to your old… everything. A small community college on the outskirts of an even smaller town has nothing on the pure expansiveness of Gotham University, and in turn, Gotham City.

The first class to start off the semester is Marketing. You have a hard time putting together how it’ll help you in journalism, but maybe it will be more helpful than you think. By the time you arrive, the class is already sparsely populated, so you find a spot with the most amount of empty chairs and begin to unpack your things.

As you’re logging into your computer, a bag slams on the table beside you, making you jump.

“Sorry! I forgot how heavy those books are.” You look up to see a man, probably about your age, smiling down at you in an apology. “I’m Tim. Mind if I sit here?”

You shake your head with a smile, “Of course not. It’s about time to make friends.” You give him your name as he sits down, and he gives you a smile of his own.

“Oh, are you new here?”

“Yeah, I just transferred. The journalism program is incredible.”

Tim smiles in agreement, but it seems a bit facetious. “Sorry, it’s just—I’m not used to people moving to Gotham. You are… aware of everything, right?”

You snort. “The pros outweighed the cons. Can’t exactly do much journalism work when all there is to report on is cattle.” You flash him a smile that he returns easily.

“You know, that would make sense—”

Tim was cut off by the professor beginning his lecture. The first day is always a bunch of syllabus talk, so you only half pay attention while looking through the Gotham Gazette website. You bookmark a couple of the articles you find, especially the ones that say MISSING PERSONS. Why is there so many?

The professor is kind enough to release the class 15 minutes early. It feels like the universe blessing you because you have no idea where to go for your next class, and you’re sure with the small amount of time in between the classes, you’d get lost and be late. Your old college was barely half the size of this place—you wonder if you’ll ever be confident in navigating it.

“You have any other classes after this?” Tim asks as you both pack up your belongings, and you nod. “I don’t, so if you need help navigating…?”

“Oh, Tim, you’re my hero. Thank you.” You throw your bag over your shoulder and follow him out of the classroom, having to walk a bit quicker to keep up with his strides. “I was honestly worried even with the extra time that I’d be late.”

He gives you that same kind, tired smile. “Don’t worry about it. Where are we headed?”

After you tell him the room number, Tim leads you up a few flights of stairs before leading you to a classroom door. You go to thank him, but you’re cut off by someone yelling his name. It’s a man, Tim’s age, running up to him and encircling him in a hug.

“Hi, babe. New friend?” You smile back at the man, finding it adorable how Tim’s hands immediately cover the other man’s. Tim introduces you and tells you that this is his boyfriend, Bernard.

“It’s their first day, they transferred here.”

“Oh, that’s awesome! We’re happy to have you.” Bernard finally unwraps himself from around Tim to stand at his full height. “If you ever need anything, just let us know.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it. See you Wednesday, Tim!”

“See you then!”

Your next class was more of the same, though you could already tell you wouldn’t have the same ease of social interaction here. Everyone seems to already know everyone else, groups of women in twos and threes with the occasional bro sprinkled in here and there. It’s a surprisingly small class, and thankfully your lack of bravery is also met with no one sitting beside you, so you don’t have to try and make conversation.

It doesn’t help that you can tell that you’re a few years older than everyone else in this classroom. Normally, it doesn’t bother you, but you’re not so sure this group will be as easy to crack as Tim was.

By the time both of your classes are over, you’re exhausted. It’s only 6 p.m., but with the constant rain and gloomy skies, combined with the hours of lecture you just sat through, you could probably go to bed and sleep through the night.

Before sleep, though, you need food. And instead of trekking through the pouring rain, you opt for the dining hall. You’re not expecting anything gourmet, but you do have some free dining dollars to spend, so it all evens out. As you make your way to the dining hall you keep your eyes out for Tim and Bernard, but you don’t see them anywhere. Just another endless sea of faces you don’t recognize.

It’s fine, really. You’ve got headphones and YouTube, so you’ll just have to be an iPad kid for today. Totally fine, and really not anything you aren’t used to. You set up shop in the corner, nibbling on an over-priced, over-greased piece of pizza you had to wait nearly thirty minutes on while you watch another reaction to another Cut video.

The walk home to your apartment isn’t the romanticized walk through the city that you’re used to seeing in the movies. It’s wet, despite the umbrella and the waterproof boots, and it’s really dark for the time of day. Regardless, it gives you time to think. First about taking the subway next time, and then about Tim and Bernard. You wonder if they were just being nice, pitying the new kid on their first day—or if you could actually be their friend. You hope for the latter. Making friends had never been an easy feat for you, and while you didn’t know much about either of them, you had a good feeling.

Which was immediately eclipsed by a very, very bad feeling as you watched a shadowed figure run across the rooftops of the buildings next to you.

Sure, you were fully aware that the shadowed figure you see is probably running toward the danger instead of going to cause it, but the threat of danger at all gives you pause. You knew what you were getting into coming here. The Joker, TwoFace… Gotham is nothing like where you’re from, and despite knowing that, it doesn’t make the reality any easier to digest.

Especially when you see what you’re pretty sure is Batman and Robin following not too far behind the first shadowed figure. Headed in the direction of your apartment.

Cool. Well, you had to have your vigilante v-card punched at some point, right? Might as well be your first night here.

You pick up your pace a bit since your building is within sight. It sure doesn’t sound like the fight is anywhere near your apartment, so you feel a bit safer as you scan your key and enter the building. The hallways are more reminiscent of a doctor’s office than an apartment building—sterile in places that should be homey, clinical in only a way someone so detached from living this way could create. You wonder if it's Bruce Wayne’s fault or Lex Luthor’s.

It’s not like your actual apartment is much better. There are the beginnings of a warm, inviting space here, but without the proper time and funds, it’s more sparse than anything else. The living room consists of a TV on an old side table and a couch sitting across from it, but you’re more than happy to plop onto the lumpy thing and click on the TV.

The gorgeous news anchor speaks, her voice melodic despite the situation at hand. “This is the fourth disappearance in Gotham in the past two weeks.” You sit up straighter at that, turning the volume up a few notches. The screen changes from the news anchor’s face to a graphic of the four missing people.

MISSING:

CRYSTAL JORDAN - 25

JAMES HEATH - 64

HOPE LEIGH - 32

HARLAN MAXTON - 43

IF YOU HAVE ANY INFORMATION PLEASE CONTACT GCPD.

Huh. Four people have gone missing, and they don’t seem to have anything in common. You skim each missing poster: grad student, grandfather, stay-at-home mom, businessman. You’re no criminal justice major, but that’s not typical… is it? It’s not like that many people went missing back home, but you’re sure this is odd.

“We have been told to urge the public to be cautious. Each of the missing persons was taken from a different area of Gotham, so there isn’t one place to look out for. If you see anything suspicious—”

You turn off the TV, but your mind just won’t follow suit. Four people in two weeks. That must be high, even for Gotham’s standards. You pull your laptop from your bag, determined to find more information. Google doesn’t give you much other than the locations these people were taken from, and statements from their families, but you save them into a folder on your desktop regardless.

You keep scrolling, desperate to find something. A way to keep yourself safe, or a way to dig deeper into this, you weren’t sure. You land on a photo of Crystal, gazing perfectly into the lens of the camera—only a little older than you, wearing a Gotham University hoodie. You can’t help but see yourself in her; you can’t help but see everyone you saw today in her.

As you slam your laptop closed, you pray to whatever god is out there that those four people come home safe. That it’s some stupid Joker stunt to catch Batman’s attention, and they’ll be returned to their families.

Deep down, though, as you settle into your bed, nesting into your covers, you feel a sickening feeling in your bones that only feels like dread.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd fanfiction #red hood x reader #red hood x you #jason todd x you #batfam #batfamily

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journey-to-the-attic · 2 months

Text

3rd anni req 2: [DRAGON AU] mammon / first encounter

ao3 link

note: requested by @whensam! i have to admit, i was hoping this'd pop up. i know i can write what i want, but i always feel i need an excuse anyway. you didn't indicate a preference for pov and i also just ended up wanting to do both, so this is a little longer than expected as a result!

∎ ∎ ∎ ∎ ∎

Baker's children don't make good hunters. We’re used to carrying sacks of flour, not sprinting across fields with pitchfork-wielding mobs in hot pursuit. We don't make good kindling, either, but that hasn't stopped about half the adults in the village - for shame, I'd say, if I had the breath to speak.

Here's the thing. Our village isn't exactly a popular spot by any definition of the term. We're too far from any big cities to make good business, we don't make much worth selling, and the people certainly aren't charming enough to warrant a detour.

More important, though, are the creatures we share land with. Through the grassland that border the crop fields, there are invisible lines drawn in the soil - ones that no one crosses.

These lines mark dragon territory, and everyone knows that a dragon would sooner eat you for breakfast than stop for a reasonable conversation. Reasonable conversation is not something I have the luxury of at the moment, which is why I’m already several hundred paces over the line.

Just fifty already takes you into the forest. I don’t hear footsteps in pursuit anymore - they’d have to be mad to follow me so far in, which is exactly what I'd been banking on. The issue now is that, rather than being pitchforked, or burnt at the stake, I’ll probably just get eaten instead.

I pick my way through rotting leaf litter and ridged roots before collapsing against an old oak, wondering if the moisture dripping from overhead is safe to drink - or at least to wash my mouth out with. Gnawing through rope seems like a clever idea until your teeth start bleeding.

I can’t stay here, I think. Dying now would be like letting them win. Then Dad will have smacked the alderman for no reason.

Just as I get back to my feet, something whooshes overhead. I freeze. Those wings were larger than any bird I’ve ever seen.

Surely it couldn’t see me through the leaves. I crouch low to the ground and try to hide in the undergrowth - the wingbeats disappear until all I can hear is distant birdsong.

At least they’re having a nice day. I duck my head and trudge through a hedge - and come face to face with a dragon.

“Argh!”

I leap backwards. Bad move. The sunlight falls across its pointed face just in time for me to watch its pupils expand into full moons, like a cat on the hunt.

It doesn’t pounce. It doesn’t charge, snap or growl. It creeps slowly, eyes fixed on me the whole way forward, as if making sure I know that I can’t escape.

Nowhere to run. I press my back against a wizened old pine and shut my eyes tight - throwing out an arm, as if that might shield me.

Nothing happens. Then something cold presses into my palm.

My eyes snap open. The dragon blinks down at me. Its eyes are such a deep shade of blue that it’s almost dizzying. Oh. Oh, okay.

Its - his? I wonder, noting the ridges on his nose - snout rests carefully in my palm. He seems to register me staring at him, and snorts. The hot air is just on the brink of scalding, but not quite enough to hurt.

Then, almost experimentally, he opens his mouth - a yawning chasm of teeth, poised as if to ever-so-gently bite off my head. Except he doesn’t do that. There’s no pain - no crunch of broken bone or split sinew - far from it. The dragon leans down, carefully hooks his teeth into the collar of my shirt, and takes off.

I’d have screamed if it wasn’t for all the air leaving my chest at once. The forest shrinks to a dark blanket beneath us faster than I can even register it happening, and I realise very quickly that I’d be dashed to bits if I so much as slipped.

Wyvern, says an unhelpful voice in the back of my head as we soar. The dragon’s white-and-gold wings blot out the sun, but they’re so brilliant that it’s hard to tell the difference. They’re good fliers.

Before long, the dragon lands - legs first, digging his talons deep into the soil as he skids to a stop. After a moment, he huffs, then (strangely gently) drops me in a heap on the stony ground.

There’s a rumble, a swoosh - then several thuds, a swoosh of wings. I watch a shadow fall over my field of vision, then slowly raise my head.

Oh, I think a little faintly.

All sorts of colours, all sorts of demeanours. One in particular steps forward - dark, with crimson eyes, and the sort of air about him that tells me he's the leader. Boss, I'll call him, if only to settle my own nerves. The dragon that brought me here (Goldie, I decide, still trying to settle my breathing) steps forward with a sort of chirrup in greeting.

It's a spectacle, if nothing else. Here are seven dragons, horns and wings and all. I've heard cautionary tales and horror stories, but they never really tell you how majestic they look in real life - scales shinier than any jewel I could imagine. Marvels of creatures, really. If only I had the wits to appreciate it.

Boss is growling now - there's a sort of heat rolling off him in waves. Some of the feeling coming back to my numb legs.

If only I knew what they were saying...

It isn’t often that the forest bears treasure - usually it’s all very boring things, like meat and berries and leaves. To be fair, Mammon's used to treasure of the shiny, golden kind - not this weird little critter crouched against a tree.

It smells faintly of smoke and burnt wheat. He stalks closer, but he's testing it more than anything - it doesn’t look like any prey he’s familiar with.

When he gets close, it sticks out a little starfish-shaped appendage and closes its eyes. He smells bitter fear now.

Is it greeting him? Telling him it isn’t a threat? That’s smart. He thought only dragons could be smart, but it’s not behaving - nor does it look - like any dragon he's ever met.

So he returns the greeting with his snout. He half expects to be stung, like the time Asmo brought that little spidery thing home, but all the critter does is look up at him fearfully.

Interesting. On a whim, he scoops the little round thing off, and decides to take it back home.

The weird not-prey goes still as soon as he takes off. Once home, he lets it disembark (drops it on the floor, though he tries to be gentle), then looks up to face his brothers as they land around him.

The others decide to keep their distance. Lucifer is the first to plod forward and investigate.

He sniffs carefully at the air, then makes a crackling noise somewhere at the base of his throat - which isn't usually a good sign.

“That’s a human, Mammon," He says, glaring at the little critter. It’s still sitting, frozen.

“It’s a what?”

“What’d you bring that for? Stupid.” Belphie settles back on his haunches, blowing out a puff of frost. “Can’t go around snatching humans. We’ll get hunted. Stupid.”

“Shut up,” He grunts. “And I didn’t snatch it. Found it walkin’ around in the forest.”

“That’s impossible,” Satan says nearly immediately. His tail swishes back and forth - slow and deliberate, an analytical glint in his clever eyes. “They don’t let their young anywhere near us.”

“Well, whaddya call this, then?”

The human - apparently - suddenly seems to regain use of its limbs. Springing to its feet (Levi shrinks back, crest flattering over his head), it stumbles for a moment, then abruptly ducks under one of Mammon's wings.

The rest of his brothers - who'd similarly drawn back - relax again with a simultaneous murmur of vague confusion. Mammon blinks. Then his tail starts flicking at the end - like it always does when he's pleased.

“...you are not keeping it,” Lucifer says, looking as if he'd very much like to fly off into the sunset.

“It might have a disease!” adds Asmo.

“I don’t care what any of ya say,” Mammon says stubbornly, snapping at Beel when it looks like he might creep in for a bite. “I’m not sendin’ it back to the forest. It’ll be dead in a day.”

"It might be dangerous," Levi hisses. "It's totally giving me the evil eyes."

"Stop scaring it, then,” Mammon says loftily. “Relax, ya big baby - You’ve got teeth bigger than its whole head.”

“You are not keeping it,” Lucifer says again, as if repeating himself will make him sound more in charge.

“Pfft. Can’t tell me what to do.” He snaps at Beel again. “Oi! No bitin’! Go raid your stash or something.”

Beel’s horns seem to droop a little. “...fine. C’mon, Belphie.”

“I was busy,” complains Satan with a huff as the twins flap off. "This is boring. I've seen deer carcasses more interesting than that weird little thing."

"Go look at your stinkin' carcasses, then," Mammon shoots back, fighting the impulse to spit something at him.

Satan does exactly that. Levi soon slinks off as well, apparently still intimidated - and Asmo seems to have disappeared as soon as he decided the human wasn't going to make a good accessory.

Lucifer, meanwhile, stands his ground. His tail is beginning to lash in agitation. If Mammon’s lucky, maybe he’ll even start spitting fire.

“I'm not gonna eat it,” He says stubbornly.

“I wasn't going to tell you to,” Lucifer replies, but he sounds very much like he’s considering it. “Belphie was right. If a hunter sees us with one of their young, they’ll take it as a threat.”

“Like we wouldn’t win,” He scoffs, sitting down with a thump. "Anyway,don't ya smell the fire on it?"

A single scarlet eye narrows a little. Evidently he hadn't - though Lucifer's always smelling smoke, by virtue of the literal furnace in his chest, so he can't really be blamed for not noticing.

The human is peeking out from beneath his wing with a little more bravado now. Lucifer eyes its round little face as if it might start spitting poison at him.

"...humans don't usually try to set fire to their young," Lucifer says after a moment. "You're sure she doesn't have anywhere to go?"

"Wouldn't've been in the forest if it— uh, she did." He glances down. "C'mon! Not like we don't have the space."

Lucifer is silent. Then he gives a long-suffering sigh - sending a plume of dark blue smoke into the sky - and bends down to the human’s eye level again.

“Will you behave?” Lucifer asks her severely, as if she can understand dragon-speak.

The human child blinks up at him. Then she reaches up and plants a hand on his snout.

Mammon holds his breath. After a moment, Lucifer’s wings flutter, then settle.

“I’m not having any part in this,” He announces, stepping back. “This is to be your responsibility only. Don't make any trouble for your brothers. Do you understand?”

“Yeah, yeah,” He says dismissively, occupied with keeping his triumph from showing in his tail. Got it.”

Lucifer glances down at the human one final time. “...take care of her.”

And off he flaps - to attend to his usual nighttime duties. He says he's keeping watch for danger, but mostly they seem to involve gazing darkly into the sunset.

With his brothers dispersed, Mammon takes a moment to actually consider his situation. He doesn’t actually know what taking care of a human child involves. He doesn’t know much about humans in general - it’s not like he usually pays them any attention. Maybe some of his brothers could give him some advice… if any of them were interested in the kid’s well-being, at least.

They’ll come around, He decides after a moment, unfurling his wings and attempting to nudge the human in the general direction of their living caves. First, I gotta figure out what these things eat…

#3rd anni event #obey me #writing #dragon au #i mentioned this in the ao3 notes but it's crazy to me that it's been two years since dragon au started #like woa. time passes #jtta aus #obey me mammon #jtta ik #obey me brothers #(won't tag the others individually since they're not as prominent)#whensam

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fanficshiddles · 6 months

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The Redbridge Hunts, Chapter 3

Loki went to see his dad in the evening after work, he knew he wouldn’t be at home, he rarely was nowadays as he was so focused on his work. So, Loki went straight to the hospital, a tall grey building that loomed over the whole city, often used as a main starting point for tourists trying to find their way around.

It had a special side entrance for vampires, so they could avoid the high risk of smelling blood in the air if they went in the main entrance.

Loki went straight to his dad’s office on the top floor. It was a cosy office, furnished neatly with a large oak desk being the main focal point, and it overlooked the city, with the red bridge clearly visible only a few streets away. Loki always enjoyed visiting, as he just loved the view, especially when it was covered in crisp white snow.

‘You have always loved this view, even as a child.’

Loki smiled and turned around to see his dad walking into the office.

‘Good to see you, Dad.’ Loki crossed the room to give him a hug.

‘Always good to see you, Son… but why do I get the feeling that you are after something?’ Lucius hummed.

‘You always have been good at reading people.’ Loki chuckled as he sat down on the brown leather sofa, Lucius poured them both a drink of neat whiskey from his mini bar in the corner.

‘I wouldn’t be much of a father if I couldn’t tell when something was up with my son.’ Lucius joined Loki on the sofa and passed him a glass.

Loki sighed. ‘I met this human today at work, she’s my new teaching assistant. You know I have no issue with humans, I like them and even have friends that are human. This one, however… she… she is driving me crazy. I really struggled to control myself with her today, she smells delectable and is so beautiful and kind. She’s supposed to be with us for a couple of years, but there’s no way I will manage to resist her for that long. I already went through half a tub of vaseline for my nose today, which is absolutely ridiculous.’

Lucius snickered. ‘When I met your mother for the first time, I nearly dragged her down an alley to feed on her and… well, I don’t think you want to hear what dirty thoughts I had for your mother.’

‘No, I really don’t. Please.’ Loki said quickly.

‘Well, anyway… what I’m trying to say is that it’s natural when you meet the one. Or, one of the one’s, at least.’

‘What do you mean?’ Loki frowned.

‘It’s said that vampires can have more than just one soulmate, since we live so long, they can be a fellow vampire or a human. Finding even one soulmate in itself is a wonderful thing. The reason you’re so attracted to her is because she must be your soulmate. Whether you decide to pursue her or not, is down to you.’ Lucius explained and took a slow sip of his drink, enjoying the way it burned down his throat.

‘I don’t have a decision to make, I won’t be able to keep away from her.’

‘It is possible. I courted your mother for two months before she couldn’t resist my charm any longer.’ Lucius grinned.

Loki chuckled and rolled his eyes. ‘Of course, she couldn’t. How did you manage that long without pouncing on her?’

‘A lot of self-restraint, feeding beforehand helps ease the urge a little. What I found that also helped greatly, I stole your mother’s coat after our first date… well, she left it behind once and I grabbed hold of it. Having an item of hers to smell got me more accustomed to being around her scent, so I didn’t end up returning it to her until she moved in. Although, vaseline works wonders too, so stock up.’

‘I feel like an idiot using vaseline.’

‘It’s vaseline or nose clips, pal.’ Lucius chuckled.

‘I guess vaseline will have to do then.’ Loki huffed.

‘It is also possible for you to just completely ignore your instincts, even for a soulmate. I know it can be done, because I did it a few years ago. I came across another human and had the same strong pull towards her, but I just couldn’t do it to your mother. She’s the only one that will ever have my heart. It was difficult, but I managed to resist and stay away from the human. Thankfully, she was only working here for a year before moving on.’

Loki’s eyebrows shot upwards. Lucius hadn’t told him about that before. Loki actually felt a bit sad for him, that he didn’t want to love another again. Though he knew how much his mother’s death had broken him, it took many years before Lucius felt even a tiny bit himself again, even now he still wasn’t the same as he once was.

‘You’re really strong, mentally. I don’t think I’d be able to stay away like that.’ Loki groaned and his head fell backwards against the sofa.

Lucius gave his shoulder a squeeze. ‘You are stronger than you think. Your instincts might be strong right now, craving her, but when it comes down to it, if she’s your soulmate and you want her to be, you’ll be able to do the right thing to protect and not hurt her.’

Loki looked at Lucius and nodded. ‘Thanks, Dad.’

Lucius smiled, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a prescription note and a pen.

‘I’ll give you this…’ He quickly scribbled something down on the note.

‘What’s this for?’ Loki asked with a frown.

Lucius handed the prescription to him with the utmost serious look on his face. ‘It can get quite expensive, so best get it through prescription. Because let’s face it, you’re going to need a hell of a lot of it.’

Loki looked at the note and he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. ‘Vaseline? Seriously?' He punched Lucius’ arm, who laughed in response.

‘I didn’t even think you could get this on prescription… wait, why would you need to prescribe this for someone?’

Lucius smirked. ‘Probably best you don’t ask that.’

Loki shook his head and ran a hand down his face with a chuckle. ‘Well, thanks. I guess it will save me some money.’

Lucius stood and made his way over to the window, to look down on the city.

‘I hope you can make it work with this human, you deserve to find your happiness.’ He said as he looked to the red bridge, he noticed someone lurking about on it, looking at the water flowing underneath. ‘People are so fascinated with that river. I wish Chris would at least tidy up the mess from the hunt in a better way, to put a stop to the rumour and attracting people here. It puts us at risk of hunters.’ He growled.

‘I think he does it on purpose, to keep the rumour alive.’ Loki grumbled, he got up and walked over to stand next to his dad. He narrowed his eyes as he looked at the bridge too, then his stomach sank.

‘That looks like Claire! She was there last night and went into the forest. Thankfully she got spooked by bats and ran off.’

‘Sounds like she had a lucky escape, of all nights to be there.’ Lucius hummed.

‘I know. I am worried how intrigued with it she seems to be.’

‘You can’t blame her, really. Since it is true.’

‘I know.’ Loki sighed.

They watched as Claire wandered into the park and began walking up the riverside’s path again.

‘No, don’t go in there again.’ Loki whined.

Claire going into the forest was the least of his worries. Loki and Lucius noticed a tall, dark figure that seemed to just suddenly appear on the bridge, watching Claire too.

‘It’s Chris.’ Lucius sighed.

‘Shit.’ Loki swiftly downed the last of his drink.

‘Be careful.’ Lucius said as he opened the window.

Loki gave his dad a quick nod, then transformed into a bat and flew outside without a seconds thought and down towards the bridge.

Chris smirked when he heard the flapping of Loki’s wings getting closer. He flicked up the collar of his leather trench coat as Loki landed next to him and turned back into his vampire form.

‘Why are you following her?’ Loki snarled.

Chris’ smirk grew, he didn’t look at Loki, just kept his eyes on Claire while she continued on through the dimly lit park. ‘She’s such a pretty little thing, isn’t she?’

Loki’s nostrils flared as he tried to keep himself from attacking the older, more powerful vampire. ‘You don’t like humans. Leave her be.’ Loki said through gritted teeth.

‘Perhaps I’ll take a leaf out of Severus’ book and give humans a try…’ Chris turned slightly to face Loki, a wicked gleam in his eye as his fangs slowly emerged. ‘Besides, if I don’t like it, I can always just feed from her.’

Loki saw red. ‘Don’t you dare harm’ He couldn’t finish his sentence as Chris turned into a bat and began flying towards Claire, who had now disappeared into the trees.

Loki quickly turned too and flew after Chris. As a bat, he became Chris' equal, so Loki took that opportunity to try attacking him by striking him, aiming to knock him out of the sky.

Claire was prepared tonight as she walked confidently into the forest, she had a flashlight in her bag and a rape alarm. She only hoped there would be people nearby that would hear it if she needed to use it for any reason.

As she started walking through the trees, she heard the same sound as yesterday, but she didn’t panic as she knew it would just be bats. She looked up and could make out two of them flying around above her in a strange manner, it looked as if they were fighting, because they kept flying into each other.

‘Odd.’ She muttered. Though she didn’t dwell on the strange actions of the creatures, she continued on her journey to the barbed wire fence.

It was still as daunting as it had been last night. She looked along the fence-line, but couldn’t see where it ended. Her plan had been to try and find an entrance, though with the sound of the bats squabbling overhead she began to lose her confidence more and more by the second.

There’s no chance of getting lost, just stick to the fence… Come on, you can do it.

So, she began walking alongside the fence, away from the river. She had only managed to get a few metres along when suddenly a bat flew right into the top of her head, making her scream. The bat then flapped around in her face, she continued to yell and waved her hands around to try and get it away, but the damn thing was persistent.

Deciding it was getting too creepy and risky to continue, she spun around and ran back to the river, then down towards the park as the bat was still chasing and clicking at her.

As soon as she ran out from the trees the bat stopped harassing her, although she didn’t stop running until she got to the bridge, where she ran her fingers through her dishevelled hair and looked towards the forest. She thought she could see the bat hovering at the tree line, but couldn’t be completely sure because of the dark.

‘What the fuck was that?’ She crouched down to get her breath back, her heart was pounding against her chest like it was about to explode out of her.

Loki felt utter relief when Claire got back to the bridge, even more so when, after catching her breath, she began making her way back home.

He wasn’t sure what happened to Chris, one moment he was fighting with him up in the trees, and the next thing he took off. Thankfully, that had allowed Loki to chase Claire out of the forest before she went any further.

#tom hiddleston #loki #loki x ofc #loki fic #vampire Loki #the redbridge hunts #chris motionless #lucius

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storytowrite · 10 months

Text

|My cousin’s fiancé ~ Hwang Hyunjin|

Paring: Hwang Hyunjin x reader

Genre: smut Warnings: swearings, little angst, sex but with a condom, mention of cheating, mention of alcohol, fingering

Word Count: 3,810

Summary: Who knew that cheating on one person can lead to a very pleasant event between two people?

—-----------------

‘Shit! Please, again? What is wrong with me today?’ You asked yourself looking at the already red arm. You were focused on your phone and didn’t see the glass window that you bumped into, instead of crossing the door.

‘Are you okay, miss?’ You’ve heard the butler’s voice who looked at you concerned.

‘Yes, yes… I’m okay… thank you’ you answered and went straight to sit at the couch in the living room. You again focused on your cell phone and the news that you were reading.

Apparently the Hwang Corporation, a leading company into the research and development industry, had a new CEO. Every single magazine was writing about the big news. You rolled your eyes. They were praising him as if he was at least the duke.

Hwang Hyunjin, the new big boss, was well known among all the investors and businessmen in the whole city. He was charming, tall, flirty and… painfully handsome. Every single woman in the whole industry was dreaming about him.

And you? You hated him with your whole heart. For you he was just a douchebag who decided to fuck your cousin and then propose to her. So you were forced to see him every single celebration day or gala that your family had been organising.

You two couldn’t get along since the beginning of your acquaintance. You didn’t know why though, you just hated him, and he hated you - or at least that was what you thought. In your eyes he was just a spoiled kid, who happened to be rich and nothing more. Maybe it was you, or maybe it was his attitude, you didn’t know.

You rolled your eyes while reading another magazine title. ‘The new CEO of the Hwang Corporation has a fiancé!’ How thrilling you thought to yourself with the sarcasm. You were sure that your cousin, May, was very excited and enjoyed every mention of her.

In your eyes May was just as spoiled as Hyunjin. She would always show how rich she was. She didn’t finish school and was unemployed. But yet, your family has always compared you to her. They were telling you how successful she is or how beautiful she was. And you were so sick and tired of it. It felt like you weren’t respected at all. You sighed quietly and were about to go to the kitchen to make some late dinner, when your phone suddenly rang.

‘Hello?’ You answered it immediately.

‘Oh, hello sweetheart. How are you?’ You heard your mother’s voice from the other side. ‘Have you seen the news?’

‘Yes mom, I have.’ You sighed. ‘Why are you calling? Is everything all right?’

‘Yes, yes darling. Everything’s fine. In fact, everything is perfect… your cousin, May, is doing a small garden party, and wanted me to ask you if you would come?’

‘Oh, right… what’s the occasion?’

‘She wanted to celebrate Hyunjin’s promotion of being a CEO’ Your mother said and you could feel how proud she was of him, even if he wasn’t related to her in any way.

‘Yeah, nah… I don’t have time for May’s tea party, sorry mom…’

‘But you have to come! Y/N don’t act like a spoiled brat.’ There it was, your mother’s typical attitude. You rolled your eyes. ‘I’m sure that you don’t have anything important to do anyway… The party is on Friday. Don’t make me disappointed, again.’

‘Yes, sure mom… I will come.’ You sighed. You weren’t in a mood to hear all the bad things she was going to say if you wouldn’t agree. ‘Sorry mom, I have to go… We’ll see at the party.’ You hung up and threw your phone to the couch.

You hated your family and they hated you, so the feeling was mutual. Ever since you could remember, your mother was a demanding yet cruel person. At least to you. You were the youngest daughter and had two older brothers, who were twins, and your mother loved them more than anything else. She thought that you would also be a son, as she wished. So when it turned out that instead of the third son, she would have had a daughter she wasn’t pleased.

Your grandfather’s will added fuel to the fire. Your grandfather was the only person that actually cared about you. So when he died, you were devastated. He left the will, in which he concluded that the heir of his whole legacy, would be you. He left you all of his money and his businesses. He knew that you were the only one who would take the proper care of it. After all, he had prepared you to take over his role as a CEO of the Kwon Group.

So yes, you were a successful business woman. You knew how to do business and the Kwon Group has grown to be irreplaceable and indestructible under your leadership. You carried out all of your grandfather’s plans and also some of yours as well and you were well-known in the business world. And for a twenty-seven year old that was a great achievement.

But yet, your family didn’t respect you at all. After hearing the will of your grandfather all of them turned their backs on you. Your brothers were jealous, your mother was dissatisfied and the rest of the family just stopped talking to you. So you had everything, the money, the business, the title. But you felt lonely.

—-----------------

Friday night came soon. You didn't expect that the time could pass that quickly. In one second you were talking to your mom on the phone and at the other you were preparing yourself for the garden party.

You put on a long, floral dress with a subtle corset that emphasised your slender figure. The neckline perfectly exposed your collarbones and showed your breasts sensually and subtly enough. You wore high-heels sandals on your feet. You did light make-up that emphasised your cheekbones and you put red lipstick on your lips. You looked into your reflection in the mirror and smiled to yourself. You were ready.

You arrived at May's property just in time. A small garden party in her mind was at least for one hundred people. You put a smile number five on your face and went straight to the garden deciding that you will go back home after about two hours. You weren’t in the mood for the parties.

You looked around. The garden was full of people. Some of them you knew, but some were new. You didn’t want to start a conversation with anyone, so you just stood at the back of the garden, next to the table with alcohol and snacks. You’ve decided to not talk to anyone. You just had to show yourself to your mother and May and you could go back to your penthouse.

“Oh My God! Y/N you don’t know how happy I am to see you!” Suddenly you heard your cousin’s high, sugary sweet voice. “I’m really glad that you actually came.”

“Yeah… Nice to see you May… And, nice party.” You said smiling at her.

“Ah yeah, you know Hyunjin got promoted, so I decided that we have to celebrate that. Isn’t that great though?”

“Yup, it is I guess…” You shrugged.

“And also I wanted to thank you.” She continued. “If it wasn’t for you, Hyunjin wouldn’t get a promotion. His father wanted to promote his cousin…”

“What are you talking about, May?” You looked at her confused.

“Well… your mom told us that you will sell all your shares to me and him so the Hwang Corporation will take over the Kwon Group? You know, so both companies will merge or something.” She shrugged. “That’s why Hyunjin’s father promoted him.”

“Wait, what?! But I’m not going to sell you anything, May.” You said being in pure shock. “What the actual fuck is that? I have never said that I will do it.”

“But your mom said…”

“But my mother is not a CEO nor does she work for me. I’ll repeat myself, just to be clear. I. Am. Not. Selling. Anything. To. You. And. Your. Fiancé.”

“You don’t have to be rude, Y/N.” You’ve heard your mother’s voice behind you. “Look at poor May, her eyes are in tears now. How could you…?”

“How could I? What the fuck? Mom, you lied to May and Hyunjin and now you expect me to be kind?” You said angrily. “Look, I don’t know what you think you are, but I’m not going to sell my shares. Why did you say I will do it?”

“Because you should share with your family. Don’t be such a brat Y/N. May is your cousin.”

“Well, I don’t fucking care! You have no right to decide whether I sell my shares or not!” You raised your voice, so a lot of people in the garden now looked at you and the scene. “I’m leaving, but believe me that I will take legal action against you if you try to do it again, do you understand?” You added and went straight to the exit.

You were furious and didn’t expect that your mother would actually do something like that. She decided for you. She wanted you to lose all of your company and you couldn’t understand why. You called for your butler who was also a driver and sat on the ground.

You felt tears forming in your eyes. You were angry but also hurt. You knew your mother didn’t love you, but that was too much. You sighed and wiped tears from your cheeks. Many emotions swirled inside you. You took a small pack of cigarettes from your purse and you lit one.

The smoke from the cigarette filled your lounges. You started to cough. You weren’t a smoker and didn’t smoke at all. The small pack you kept in your purse was just for an emergency. An emergency like that.

“I didn’t know you smoked.” You’ve suddenly heard the male voice behind you. You didn’t have to turn to know who he was.

“You don’t know a lot about me and let’s leave it at that.” You rolled your eyes.

“May I?” He asked and reached out for a cigarette. You gave him one.

“What do you want Hyunjin?” You asked. “I’m not going to sell…”

“Don’t worry. I’ve heard your argument with your mom. I don’t want to buy your shares… actually I wanted to apologise.”

“Apologise?” You blinked.

“Yeah… I guess someone has to? I think that your mother crossed the line. Also, it's not true that I got promoted because she promised your shares to my father.” He said and looked at you with a corner of his eye.

“Oh… thank you I guess?” You said but didn’t dare to look at him.

“…And…” He started. “I would like to meet you tomorrow. Or next week if you want to have a free weekend. But I wanted to do some business with your company and…”

“Okay.” You sighed. “We can meet tomorrow… But if you try to make me sell my shares…”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” He smiled at you. “Tomorrow then. Meet me at noon in Yongbok’s restaurant.”

“Of course, your friend’s restaurant.” You rolled your eyes. “But okay… Tomorrow then.” You said and your car just arrived. “Say my goodbyes Hyunjin.” You got in your car and went to your penthouse. You started wondering what was the business that Hyunjin wanted to talk about.

The next day you woke up early and unable to sleep a little longer decided to dress up and go for a walk before the meeting. You were a little bit nervous. You didn’t know what Hyunjin wanted from you.

The time passed quickly and before you could even blink there was the time to meet Hyunjin at Yongbok’s restaurant. You went to the meeting and stood in front of it. You took a small mirror from your purse and fixed your make-up. Then you entered the restaurant.

You looked around looking for him. He wasn’t there or you just couldn’t find him. You sighed and were about to leave when you heard a low voice.

“Hello Y/N.” You’ve heard. “Long time no see, huh?”

“Hi Yongbok.” You smiled at the man standing in front of you. The last time you’ve seen him was on May's birthday two years ago. You weren’t close friends, but he was always kind to you. Back then you spent almost the whole night together. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been good, thanks. And please, call me Felix… all my friends call me that.” He smiled. “You came here to meet with Hyunjin, didn't you? Come, he’s waiting.”

“Huh? Where? I couldn’t see him…”

“Ah yes, because he’s at the VIP room.” Felix winked.

You followed Felix to the VIP room where apparently Hyunjin was waiting for you. You entered the room and the door suddenly closed behind you. You jumped slightly at the sudden noise.

“Hello Y/N. I’m glad that you actually came.” You heard Hyunjin’s voice. The room was a little dark inside but you could see his silhouette. “Please, take a seat.”

“Why did you want to meet Hyunjin? And why are we sitting here, in the VIP room?” You asked, sitting in front of him.

“Well… here we will have more privacy… and also, May is probably cheating on me so I wanted to check if that’s true.” He explained.

“Okay… why is it connected with me?” You asked, lifting your eyebrow.

“Well, she’s cheating with one of your managers so I thought that you should know.” He looked at you. “Also, you look pretty today.” He winked. You blinked twice and looked confused at him.

“Look Y/N… in this room nobody in the restaurant can see us, but we can see them all. Come, sit next to me and I’ll show you…” He said and you did as he asked and sat next to him. Then he pulled back the blinds and you saw the whole restaurant below you. You looked at him and then at the restaurant and blinked. You didn’t expect that something like that was even possible. “See? There is May and your Manager.”

“Yes… I see… But she shouldn’t know him. Seonghwa is the main finance and risk manager. I was actually going to promote him, he has access to all the information and…” Then it hit you. Your mother and May must have been planning to take over your company and with Seonghwa’s help they could easily do it. “I’m going to fire him…”

“Don’t act rashly, Y/N.” Hyunjin said and winced when he saw May kissing Seonghwa. “I’m going to break up with her though.”

“What should we do now?” You asked, looking at him.

“Well I want revenge… After all, I proposed to her and she is cheating… She hates you, you know?”

“Tell me something I don’t know, Mr Hwang.” You rolled your eyes.

“Uh, that sounds sexy…” He muttered under his breath. “Anyway, she hates you, so what if we go there together and act like we are a secret couple or something?”

“I don’t know if I want to do that. I don’t like you…”

“And yet you came to meet me.” He winked. “Come on, please?” He looked at you with puppy eyes.

“Ok, fine…” You agreed. “Let’s do this and then we’ll go our separate ways.”

“As you wish.” He smiled. You both stood up and went straight to the main room where the regular guests were. Before you entered the door Hyunjin grabbed you by your waist and pulled closer to him. “Did I tell you that you smell beautiful?” He asked and you felt that your cheeks instantly changed their colour to red.

“T-thank you… You too…” You said quietly but he could hear you. He smiled at you and you both passed by your cousin and ex manager. May instantly spotted the two of you.

“Hyunjin? Y/N what are you doing here?” She asked.

“Oh, May… I haven’t seen you.” Hyunjin looked at her and smiled a little. “Who is your friend?”

“Just a friend. What are you doing here with Y/N?” She looked confused.

“Oh, right… Well, that’s a little awkward. I should have told you earlier but…”

“Are you cheating on me with her?!” She busted.

“Yes.” Hyunjin said without any hesitation. “And you are cheating on me with him, don’t you?”

“B-but Hyunjin… it’s not… I-I…”

“Please May, don’t, we are over, you know?” Hyunjin said calmly. “You can keep the ring though.”

“And Seonghwa.” You finally spoke. “You are fired.” That was the only thing you said.

“Can we?” Hyunjin asked you and the two of you left holding each other's hands.

You were impressed how calm he was all the time. He didn’t hesitate at all. You looked at him with the corner of your eye. He was really handsome. He deserved the ‘prince’ title. You started wondering how it was possible that such a handsome man existed and was on earth among normal human beings. He definitely had some godly genes.

You looked down, your hands were still intertwined. You smiled at yourself. It was a nice feeling after all. You focused on his long fingers and started imagining them inside you. Then you quickly shook your head to forget all the unwanted thoughts.

“What are you thinking about?” He broke the silence which formed between the two of you.

“N-nothing…” You stuttered. “You can stop holding my hand though…”

“I know, but I don’t want to.” He smiled a little. “Do you want to maybe grab a drink? I’m not sure if I want to go back to my house now…”

“Hm… okay. We can go to a bar or something.” You shrugged. Hyunjin smiled widely and the two of you went to the nearest bar.

—-----------------

After a few drinks you felt a little tipsy. You spent a pretty good evening with Hyunjin. Apparently he was not a douchebag as you thought before. He was such a nice gentleman. You had fun with him. A lot of fun actually.

“Careful.” Hyunjin said as you tried to stand up from your seat. “Are you alright Y/N?” He asked. He didn’t drink as much as you.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine…” You smiled at him. “I’ll order another drink… Do you want something too?”

“No, thank you, and I think that you had enough.” He said. “Let me drive you home.”

“But I don’t want to.” You whined.

“Come on Y/N.” He walked you out of the bar and took you to his car. His driver drove the two of you to your penthouse.

The whole way to your home was silent. You didn’t want to say anything, not feeling much sober. Hyunjin also didn’t want to say a word. After all, you two weren’t even close. Little did you know that he wished you would.

He helped you get out of his car and walked you to the front door of your penthouse. You looked at him in the elevator. His long, black hair was perfectly styled. He looked like he was out of the cover of the most exclusive magazine.

The two of you stood in front of your door.

“Are you going to open?” He asked.

“Are you going to come in?” You answered the question with the question and opened the door. You invited him. He entered your apartment and scanned everything, then his eyes landed on you. He couldn’t take his eyes off you.

“You want something to drink or…” You weren’t able to finish the sentence as Hyunjin's lips were suddenly on yours. You blinked before you fully gave in to the feeling. His lips were velvety and juicy. You didn't expect the kiss though. It wasn’t just a kiss it was aggressive and sensual at the same time.

He didn’t give you time to process what actually was happening. You totally gave in. Your hands were all over his body and you started to unbutton his shirt. He smiled at you and pulled you closer to himself, kissing your neck.

He pushed your hands away and pulled the belt from his pants to tie it around your wrists. Then he lifted you and found the way to your bedroom where he laid you on the bed and stripped himself. Then he leaned over you and smiled slightly.

“Can I take your dress off, sweetheart?” He asked and when you nod he unbuttoned your dress and took it off of your body. He smiled widely as he found out that you didn’t wear any bra today.

His hands grabbed your boobs and squished them gently. You let out a soft moan which made Hyunjin smile again. Then his lips attacked your nipples, biting them gently.

Unable to touch him you started to wiggle under his touch. Your moans become louder and louder. He had all the control and he was in no hurry.

“Hyunjin please.” You whined, moving your legs as you felt the wetness between them.

“What do you want, sweetheart?” He asked licking his lips and looking straight in your eyes.

“I want you.” You cried out.

“Hm… not yet, sweetheart. Let me taste you first.” He answered and kissed you again. Then he moved from your lips across your whole body and licked his lips once again before he spread your legs wide open and kissed your clit. You let out a soft groan as his tongue started playing with you. He ate you out and led you to the orgasm that hit you instantly and hard. Then he pulled off. “You taste sweet.” He smiled, licking his lips. “Are you ready to feel me?” He asked as you nod and tried to calm your breathing. “Good girl.”

Suddenly you felt his long fingers inside you. You let out a loud moan. He started moving his hand slowly and added another long finger inside you. His thumb was rubbing your clit. The only thing you could do, was wriggling and moaning.

“Hyunjin, please!” You cried out.

“I like when you beg.” He said and pulled off his hand. He put a condom on his member and slipped into you. You both left a loud groan. Hyunjin started to move inside you. He set a fairly fast pace and his movements were strong. You both didn’t last long and the orgasm hit the both of you at the same time.

Hyunjin laid down next to you panthing and smiled. You looked at him and smiled back. You both didn’t need any words because your eyes said everything that had to be said. He pulled you closer and hugged you tightly.

Since that night everything had changed.

—-----------------

Masterlist

#hwang hyunjin #stray kids #skz #skz reaction #skz hyunjin #hwang hyunjin skz #kpop angst #hyunjin angst #hwang hyunjin oneshot #kpop story #kpop fanfic #skz fanfic #hwang hyunjin fanfic

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bonesofapoet · 1 year

Text

Fall

[ jason todd x you ]

author’s note : pls behold my accidental possible series about an informant!reader digging up details on criminals for jason while questioning every life choice they have ever made. if you’d like to see more of them, pls do let me know! requests are open too <3 tw for casual strong language and implied anxiety

word count : 1985

The diner floors were stickier than yesterday.

The place smelled like bacon grease and syrupy sweetness, a familiar balance to a fresh pot of coffee, strong and sharp, brewed only moments ago. A regular continued his weekly ritual of breakfast for dinner, an interesting contrast to the classic cheeseburger and greasy crinkle cut fries littering tables across a cozy hole-in-the-wall on the outskirts of Gotham City. You never complained, not when it shook up the agonizing monotony of faces blurring together - tourists, mainly. People passing through. Most locals didn’t come this far out just for a burger, or a fuckin’ cup of coffee -

Except for him, this one. Jason Todd.

Red Hood.

And, more often than not? His criminal of the week usually had goons slinking around your alleys and open booths to boot. They ordered before a shift. Topped off after a shift. Came through in pairs, small groups, ordering enough food to feed a small fucking horse.

They talked loudly, too. Not usually anything worth hearing, thanks to the ones with a little more awareness in the old clunker upstairs, but. Tourists never wanted to get involved, and the few regulars that lingered sure as shit knew better. But you. . .well, no one ever suspected the waitstaff, after all. Not when they were tipped well enough it was an obvious incentive to forget anything they could have heard, on the off chance.

But Jason Todd paid you better.

Nerves seemed to be getting the better of you this evening - but the routine of a Thursday kept you grounded here, in the present. The scrawl of your pen to pad, the sound of ice clinking in the bottom of a glass before the iced tea hits. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out.

It was enough - at least until they arrived, anyway. Night was fast approaching. It was almost time.

“Hey,” your name is called from the far end of the counter before an empty mug slides through your peripheral to stop, magically, right in front of you. “Top me off, if you don’t mind. You look like you need something low-risk to do.”

The laugh that falls through your lips is uneasy. Strained.

“Is it that obvious? Because I thought I was hiding it quite well, actually. No one else,” you emphasized, the splash of coffee on ceramic glaze filling your pause. “Seems to have noticed. Except you.”

You slide the mug back to Jason, swirling the last of his french toast in the last puddles of raspberry syrup. He smirks, of course, no doubt about to gift you with another one of his charming quips, he seems all too fond of. “Well -”

Here we go.

“I imagine no in here was trained to see these things -”

“- by the world’s greatest detective.”

“Oh, you left it out this time.”

Jason snorts into his coffee. “Left out what?”

Your eyes roll, feet bringing you to stand before him. The chances of being overheard here were, again, highly unlikely - especially this close to the kitchen where the radio was always loud enough to spill quietly through the window - but, alas. Precautions.

“‘Not to mention, everything I’ve picked up on my own.’ Hm?”

It was your turn to smirk, when Jason paused, steaming mug hovering just above the countertop. His eyes narrowed at you, who had an eyebrow quirked and an expression that was becoming - no, that’s not - no. He’s too good at this, as you so kindly reminded him. Trick of the light made him read you wrong for a second, that’s all.

He recovers just as quickly - you hadn’t noticed anything amiss - and sets the mug down. “I haven’t said it that much.”

“Ah, but you know you’ve said it often.” it’s warm, the laugh that follows. Matches the grin growing across your face like a ray of afternoon sunshine. Jason tightens his grip on the mug and slips on the mask of a sardonic smile -

The bell over the door jingles.

Your smile slips. Body tenses. Eyes slip down to glance at Jason, whose demeanor has changed right along with yours.

“You got this,” he says. It’s barely audible over the music, over the casual chatter that just entered the diner. “I’m not goin’ anywhere. Promise.”

“Even if shit gets dicey?”

“Why the fuck would it get dicey?”

“Just covering my bases.”

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Jason mumbles something you don’t quite catch.

Smile. Project.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite group of misfits. Sit anywhere you like, guys.”

A salute is sent your way with a Thanks, darlin’ called over the endless stream of conversation. Complaints. Schedule conflicts. Somethin about missing my daughter's birthday party for this job. A fuckin’ Saturday, can you believe it?

“Not off to a great start,” you mumble. Menus find their way into your hands.

“Is it ever?” Jason asks.

You snort. “Father of the year.”

Jason chokes.

The next hour passes in a flash. It’s nothing major so far - minor league tips you’re able to fish out from the small talk, piecing together bits and baubles from the growing list of random - yet important, apparently - chunks of conversation you’ve collected over the past few weeks. It’s the most stressful part of your evenings, when they arrive. An afternoon of quiet ease and a languid pace trades itself in, seamlessly, for quicker steps and an even brighter smile. You don’t rush, as much as pick up your pace. You don’t beam, but you do provide extra banter. You don’t lurk, but you linger. No one thinks twice about weaponizing hospitality - at least, not in a diner.

The most important part, you’ve learned, is that questions aren’t needed. Jason gave you a few tips in the beginning, and you were quick to pick them up.

They trust themselves around you, he said once. It was hushed, noted in-between sips of strawberry milkshake, while he watched you refill sugar packet baskets - while you watched them from across the floor. In two minute intervals.

“How can you tell? I assumed they were too prideful or too dumb to know when to keep their mouths shut.”

“Well,” Jason offers you a crooked smile. Slurps the rest of the milkshake. “That too. But not those guys. See their posture? They loosen up when you go over there, and they don’t immediately can it, either.”

You snort, eyes glued to the task at hand. “Well. I’ve noticed, but - why assume I don’t know who they are though? That still sounds really fucking careless.”

That’s the question, he said. Isn’t it?

The memory hit you like a fucking brick the second you picked up their change and hid their hush money in a lock box in the back. It felt like all the air had been knocked out of you for a second, and it was - it was - fuck.

It all made sense now, the bits and pieces that had been so important to Jason.

His eyes were on you, when you came back out. Felt them trailing you all the way back to their empty table with cleaner and a rag. You didn’t dare look anywhere other than forward.

Breathe in, breathe out.

The bell over the door jingled a departure.

Breathe in, breathe out.

“Hey - you good?”

Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in -

Your name sounded harsh, louder near your face. The rough shake of your shoulder jarred you back into the present, the now, the here, the holy fucking shit.

The world started spinning again.

“What? Oh- yeah. Yeah, yeah I’m-”

Eyes drifted downwards, and it seems you had been rather aggressively scrubbing the table so hard the salt and pepper shakers tipped onto the floor.

“Just - lost in my head, apparently.” The waitress - she was new to the city, new to this type of clientele - stood in front of you, brows falling together. She was nice, and had a contagious laugh. There was a broom in her hand. You reached for it. She pulled it back.

“You sure? You see a ghost out here or somethin’? Because you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

A strangled laugh dispelled some of the tension growing within you, before it snapped. “Long night,” you reached for the broom again. “I’ll clean it up-”

“Actually,” she took a step back, effectively out of reach. “That guy you always chat with? You know - the cute one? He left a bit ago. Looks like he left you a solid tip this time. I wouldn’t leave it sitting there if I were you.”

You glance towards Jason’s stool at the counter, and - she was right. He was gone. “Right. Hey, listen - I’m uh, gonna take a breather for a sec - out back? Yell if you need me.”

“Sure thing. Wait, you know what? I wouldn't be surprised if you found his number tucked into a wad of cash one of these nights. . .”

You didn’t stick around to hear the end of that sentence.

—--

Gotham was a force of nature when night fell.

Sirens approached the diner, gift wrapped in a blanket of mist and muted neon lights. Flashing colors shimmered and echoed through alleyways and front windows alike, while sounding close enough to keep your eyes open, yet far enough away you weren’t worried. Especially here, shrouded in a sliver of darkness choked with fog and a bricked up dead end to your left.

The fog shifted through a breeze, and the damp chill engulfed you in a grounding, bitter hug. A wave of calm was, as always, quick to follow. “I think I need a fuckin’ raise, Todd.”

“Yeah?” Jason emerged from the gloom, stopping in front of you. “What makes you say that?”

“I got something. It’s - Jesus. Have you ever seen me like this?”

Jason pauses. Looks at you the best he can through the haze, but the dull glow of a shitty lightbulb by the back door doesn’t give him much to work with, though he’ll still see enough. He always does, even when there is no light.

He looks away, eventually. Expression unreadable in the shadows. Unreadable, probably, by design. “No,” he says.

That’s all he says. You may not be able to read his face, but you sure as shit can read the tension setting in his shoulders and settling in the way he clenches his jaw.

“Are you - you’re okay to go back in? I shouldn’t be seen in there so soon, but you need to be. If it’s too much, I can buy you ten minutes to -”

“I can do it. Just needed to - shit, I don’t know. Question my life choices, I suppose. Plus you left, and you only pay me up front when you’re lurking back here waiting for my break. So.”

Jason huffs a laugh, handing you the copy of his bill with an address scratched on the back. “You’ll get your raise.”

“See you soon, then.”

He nods. Doesn’t say anything, but takes a step towards you. Took a step into what little pool of light you have, muffled though it is through the fog. He hesitates, in this little pocket of quiet, but pushes through it anyway. Pushes through the memory of that look he thinks you gave him earlier, and -

Panics.

Fucking jumps ship.

“See you when you’re done.”

Jason turns, and the night swallows him whole.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #jason todd x you #batfam imagine #kas writes

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april-is · 1 year

Text

April 29, 2023: June, Alex Dimitrov

June Alex Dimitrov

There will never be more of summer than there is now. Walking alone through Union Square I am carrying flowers and the first rosé to a party where I’m expected. It’s Sunday and the trains run on time but today death feels so far, it’s impossible to go underground. I would like to say something to everyone I see (an entire city) but I’m unsure what it is yet. Each time I leave my apartment there’s at least one person crying, reading, or shouting after a stranger anywhere along my commute. It’s possible to be happy alone, I say out loud and to no one so it’s obvious, and now here in the middle of this poem. Rarely have I felt more charmed than on Ninth Street, watching a woman stop in the middle of the sidewalk to pull up her hair like it’s an emergency—and it is. People do know they’re alive. They hardly know what to do with themselves. I almost want to invite her with me but I’ve passed and yes it’d be crazy like trying to be a poet, trying to be anyone here. How do you continue to love New York, my friend who left for California asks me. It’s awful in the summer and winter, and spring and fall last maybe two weeks. This is true. It’s all true, of course, like my preference for difficult men which I had until recently because at last, for one summer the only difficulty I’m willing to imagine is walking through this first humid day with my hands full, not at all peaceful but entirely possible and real.

(June is my birthday month and also the best month. Sorry, I don’t make the rules.)

More like this: » Steps, Frank O'Hara » After Work, Richard Jones » Dolores Park, Keetje Kuipers » Awaking in New York, Maya Angelou » A Step Away From Them, Frank O'Hara

Today in:

2022: Poem to My Child, If Ever You Shall Be, Ross Gay 2021: Choi Jeong Min, Franny Choi 2020: Earl, Louis Jenkins 2019: Kul, Fatimah Asghar 2018: My Life Was the Size of My Life, Jane Hirshfield 2017: I Would Ask You To Reconsider The Idea That Things Are As Bad As They’ve Ever Been, Hanif Abdurraqib 2016: Tired, Langston Hughes 2015: Democracy, Langston Hughes 2014: Postscript, Seamus Heaney 2013: The Ghost of Frank O’Hara, John Yohe 2012: All Objects Reveal Something About the Body, Catie Rosemurgy 2011: Prayer, Marie Howe 2010: The Talker, Chelsea Rathburn 2009: There Are Many Theories About What Happened, John Gallagher 2008: bon bon il est un pays, Samuel Beckett 2007: Root root root for the home team, Bob Hicok 2006: Fever 103°, Sylvia Plath 2005: King Lear Considers What He’s Wrought, Melissa Kirsch

#summer #poetry #city life #nyc #poem #alex dimitrov

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safely-in-vhagars-belly · 9 months

Text

Dark! Aemond x reader (Yes she has no name, once more)

Based on the courtyard scene.

(I FIXED TYPOS)

Concept: Assasin/spy/grey reader x prince regent Aemond.

You have a simple life in kings landing. At day, you work in a tavern. At night, you rule the underground scene of kings landing. Illegal drops, hiding bodies/disposing of them, its all in your task description. You are simply refered to as The Queen of the City or the Queen of the underworld. No one has seen your face. That is the only reason you are alive right now. One day, they arrest your father. A peaceful septon. Or so it appeard. He was brought to the keep and thats where you will help him escape from. Or so you thought.

WARNINGS: spoilers and dark stuff i like my writings as i like the night. dark, and full of terrors.

gif's not mine, not now, not ever. (for i am older than vhagar idk how to internet)

Darwen opens the door once you have knocked. He hasn’t changed since the last time you saw him. When he took the fall for your crimes. When they dragged him through the streets of King’s Landing and took off his left hand. You stare at the stomp that was once his fighting hand. His writing hand. He dreamed of being an author. A dream that you crushed. Just as you crushed his heart that once beat for you. You move your three fingers in your right hand, excluding your little finger and thumb as a greeting.

Darwens’s mouth corners begin to hang, in a disapproving manner when you greet him with your former secret signal. You drop your hands and compose your face, but inside your eyes roll so hard they would be on the ground by now. You force yourself to smile and lightly touch your face in a charming flattering attempt to charm him. ‘’Ah, good. You are here.’’

You try to walk past him, into his home. He quickly paces forwarth and blocks the entrance, glaring at you when his left arm hangs uselessly by his side. It has been a while for sure.

You hoped you would be better at lying now. At tricking now. But he reads you once as he read you dozens of times before. ‘’Do you need something, Y/N?’’

Why do people always assume you need something from them? Perhaps if you yearned for true social contact as most folk, you would visit them outside of work hours. Yet you do not yearn for social idle meaningless conversation. Darwen knows every trick in your book for he wrote it himself. He made you who you are. You are better off asking him yourself. ‘’As a matter of fact, that I do. I need to speak to your sister.’’ You haven’t seen her in years either. Not since they took Darwens hand.

Darwen tenses up, the protective brother that he is. You scoff slightly at his attempt of making himself bigger than you, for you are much taller than he is. ‘’My sister? Why?’’

You sigh, growing impatient. ‘’Just let me in, Darwen. The street has whores but it also has ears.’’ You would know, better than anyone.

—-----------------------------------------------------

You are let in, and they allow you to take a seat on their sofa. Freyda, his sister, was busy cutting potatoes but drops her knife when she sees your horrendous desperate face. ‘’Out! Out with you! We do not wish to be associated with you!’’ Well, she is honest at least.

You plop down on the worn-out sofa, put your boots on the table and shoot her a glare. ‘’Too late.’’ You grumble.

She is not done yelling yet. ‘’You already took my brother’s hand! Isn’t this enough, villain?! When will you be satisfied?!’’ You, a villian? You scoff. Perhaps. Perhaps not. You did not take his hand. You just made sure it wasn’t you on that chopping block. You lied, tricked, manipulated, abused, fought, stole but it was the City watch swords. Not yours.

You get to your feet after sitting down for one brief moment. ‘’’I need to borrow your uniform.’’ She knows just what uniform you are referring to. The one she wears when she works in the pretty Red Keep of King’s landing. Attending dogs, kings, whatever she is paid for. You have your own woman at the castle who would normally…provide these kinds of things for you, but she hasn’t answered you in a week now. She is either found out or she has betrayed you.

Which means she is dead…Or soon will be.

Her eyes become as huge as two oranges. ‘’Borrow? We only have one uniform, Y/N.’’ That complicates things. Of course those green greeds would only allow the people of the castle to wear one uniform. ‘’It is a new security measure. Ever since they killed the little prince-’’

You vaguely recall a golden casket sized for a toddler being paraded around King’s Landing’s Street. You and Vazzo joked about digging it up later, to sell it somewhere. But the dirty conquers that are Targaryens are all tossed in the sept to perish. The little brat was not any different, so you fear. ‘’I don’t care. I need your uniform.’’ You do. You need to sneak in that palace and if they see your face, chances are that they recognize you from earlier today.

Or worse…That they recognize you from much, much, much earlier. ‘’You want to leave Vazzo in charge of your empire?’’ Freyda is asking the real questions and you groan by the thought of leaving your empire, your criminal web of trustworthy spiders and liars into the hands of a man. Your web was designed to help former enslaved young women track their masters. To track them, and to end them. It has become more than that, bigger than that and worse than that. To put Vazzo, a man on top of that ladder kills you. Especially since you built that ladder yourself.

‘’I want nothing. I have no choice. Vazzo is my second-in command.’’ You trust him. Kind of. He is ambitious. He is cruel and calculated. But someone has to be there to feed and to lead the spiders from the dark, should you not return. Vazzo will carry on the revolution you are planning for King’s Landing.

Your answer insults Darwen. Once, he wanted nothing more but to be your king. To sit next to you and to hold your hand. They might hate you, you allow them. You hate yourself as well. But do they hate your father, the man that raised them as their own? You hope not. Or not nearly as much as they hate you. You tell them shortly what happened in the morning. ‘‘’The guards came today. Funny looking ones. Not the regular city watch. These were Kings guards. They took my father.’’ You would recognize the pretentious sanctimonious cloaks, in a pure white color. The color of good. You would never forget how those cloaks dragged your mother through the streets before they chopped her head off, feeding it to the dogs.

Darwen and Freyda share a look, their faces grim and full of sorrowness. They are not like you. They have a conscience. They have these little voices in their heads, no hearts telling them they can’t live with themselves like this. Voices that went dead silent inside of you a long time ago. You are hopeful for the guilt to eat them alive, to make them as desperate as you truly are. ‘’So that means he is in the castle’s dungeons.’’ You feared that that would be the case, though you obviously considered it.

Your eyes never leave the proper red uniform that Freyda puts on the table. Your new disguise. ‘’I made the same conclusion. Which is why I need your uniform. Unless you’d like to risk your pretty head?’ ’Because you don’t trust Fryda to pick any lock, not even if she had the keys.You’ll likely need to pick at least 2 locks. One for the cell, one maybe for the entrance to the dungeon and who knows, maybe one or two more. You would take Estra with you, if she wasn’t on a mission in the Riverlands by now. Why must you always do things yourself?

There is one short answer to that: If one wants to make sure something is done properly…

One has to do it themselves. ‘’If he’s in the castle dungeons, he is a dead man.’’ You refuse to believe that. Estra was stuck there for two weeks before a handyman of yours got her out safely and well. King Aegon is a lazy drunk fool who would rather party than execute prisoners.

You feel your lips fold into a smirk as you proudly recall how you saved people from the red keep before.‘’I had men and women stuck there for months. They aren’t eager to dispose of us.’’

Darwen scoffs at your smugness. ‘’’That was before King Aegon got injured.’’ You feel as if someone dropped a bucket with ice cold water over your shoulders. The king was injured?

You force your face to remain blank, an empty canvas awaiting its artist. You cross your legs and absently pull your left thumb nail. ‘’You didn’t know?’’ Of course you did not.

Someone is playing a dangerous game with you, at that Palace. What in the seven hells happened with your informant at the palace? You think back to the new uniform rule. New security protocol, indeed. ‘’King Aegon went with his dragon, to kill Rhaenys and her dragon, Meleys.’’ You remember how proudly they paraded around the skull of the dragon. Come to think of it: You didn’t see any smug Targaryens out there that day. They were cooped up in their red stone coop, probably laying eggs out of fear and fucking each other-Normal Targaryen things.

Freyda nods, confirming the news that they played dragon-tag and one had lost.‘’King Aegon got burns. It is bad.’’ You hide an amused smirk. You hope it is. ‘’So, his brother took over.’’ There goes your smirk.

His brother took over. You try to remember everything your castle-spy told you about the princes but honestly you never could be bothered to read about the princes or any royalty at all. You just read the first lines, confirming you that your spy was alive and well. Nothing interesting was mentioned until a few months ago, when Viserys died. Then a few juicy good updates. ‘’The war has started.’’ ‘’The prince was slew.’’ ‘’The two whores are off to Rook rest….’’ and since then, nothing. Silence. Only silence.

Confirming your fear that your spy is no longer alive.

‘’Who is his brother?’’ You need a brief recap on whose house you are going to break into.

Freyda hesitates to speak. ‘’Prince regent Aemond Targaryen. He rides Vhagar, the biggest dragon.’’ The biggest dragon. You know men who wielded swords twice as big as you. Men who thought biggest meant best. And you watched as Estra cut their throats with a thin, small blade. Biggest doesn’t mean strongest. Any dragon can be killed. ‘’He is terrifying, Y/N. Aegon was a known rapist, drunk and a fool…’’ You heard those tales, yes. ‘’But I prefer Aegons’s drunkenness, his lust and his stupidity over Aemond’s bloodlust and his paranoia and his sadism.’’ When a Targaryen is born, the gods flip a coin. You have so far only seen the madness. Never the greatness.

You have lost too much time as it is. You take the dress with you and intend to leave. Only Darwen stops you, his good hand digging into your skin. ‘’What will get in return for helping you?’’

You bat your lashes. ‘’My gratitude.’’

He groans as a whiny brat. ‘’Y/N.’’

‘’You are the Queen of King’s Landing.’ You are, in a certain way. Not the queen-queen but still an important female leader. You might be the only queen that is truly out there. The Queen of Aegon is powerless, so is his sister who opposes him. You hold power.

‘’Fine, you can pick out something nice. We’ll discuss the details later.’’ Or, never.

Darwen stops you, his head inches from your own. He takes your hands into his own, staring you down. ‘’Please, do not go. Your father is likely already dead. Aemond is a pig. He kills without reason. I don’t want to bury you, the way I buried everyone else.’’ You are touched, somewhere, deep down in your soul. You feel a flame awaken. You force yourself to ignore it. To avoid it.

‘’Vazzo likes to say that a boring death equals a boring life. I will bring my father home, or I will leave behind a corpse. If I do go, bury me face down. I was never afraid of the stranger. I am not going to start now.’’

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

This is my first attempt at a grey character so ....ANY SUPPORT IS WELCOME. ok yeah that was it.

#house of the dragon fanfiction #aemond #aemond one eye #aemond one fanfiction #dark aemond targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen #dark!#head the warnings #dubcon #possible triggering content #She/her reader #AFAB Reader #DarkFantasy #Possible noncon #Possible gore #Old work

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2dboisloyal-devotee · 1 year

Note

Could you do spamton that use to be a good friend and a big shot like but lose everything and hide out of pure shame of losing it all.

I hope I got your ask right, anon, here it is! I did what I think fit best, do enjoy :D

Long Lost Old Friend (Platonic Spamton)

Contains: GN reader, negative self-talk (coming from Spamton), hurt-comfort, major spoilers(?)

>)~ Imagine/headcanons

You and Spamton had been best buddies, it was no wonder you two soon became the talk of the city.

People would usually see you both together, hanging out in many places that it being a daily occurrence is just normal to accept as the charming part of the city.

Despite them seeing you and him closer than ever, you felt like there was ever-growing chasm that served quite a distance between you two.

It was glaringly clear, more so in some days.

The cashier chirped with a fresh smile as soon as Spamton and you got in the quiet cafe. Not because it was one of those days with less customers than usual, but because the cafe itself was the one with pricey royalty-like products.

“Hey, welcome, you two! The usual?”

“Yes, yes!” Spamton replied, equally as cheerful. “[Name], you can take a seat, I'll be paying, free of charge just like before.”

You frowned and went closer to the cashier, getting out your wallet.

“Let me pay for my own order at least, Tonnie, you know there's nothing special about this day, like before too. You can't keep paying for me and expect me to just accept it again.” It would be understandable if it was any other more cheaper cafe, but he was getting persistent in making you and him the regular of the cafe he didn't show any signs of stopping.

“[Name], [Name], my dearest most priceless friend in the whole wide world.” Spamton shook his head when he put his hand on yours and chiding you as if he wasn't the one who wronged you. “Not like that. It was merely unspoken agreement between us to not treat you any less. Believe in me and my respectable position as a successful salesman, there's still [plenty] more where that came from.”

You should've saw it coming. The abyss between that chasm served as a warning. Sooner or later, it would pull in either one of you to fall down.

In this case, he have fallen victim. For him who was an ambitious man just trying to survive in the highly competitive side of the world where it's mostly a dog eat dog situation... He have lost and got chewed out mercilessly.

Soon, Spamton vanished from your sights.

Asking for answers from the Addisons who were acquintances of his led you to a dumpster down the alleyway of the city, like now. Just looking and feeling from how the general area is structured, it gives off an abandoned that fits a castaway, not dared to be asked easily as it's not relevant anymore to their lives.

Knocking on the door of the building resembling a house(?), you wait in the eerily growing silence. Then, you call out to him again and this time with his nickname you two only use. “I only want to come check up on my friend, at least allow me this one thing so won't you let me in, Tonnie?”

For a moment, you hear a distorted chuckle from inside before the door snaps open. There behind the counter, you see him.

Who now lives in a shabby environment, who was left abandoned by his companions, who now stares at you with a growing smile and a wide stare you can't exactly pinpoint what he feels at the moment.

The silence is soon shattered by his scratchy voice.

“HE -EY BEST BUDDY HAVE I GOT SOME [[Very Specil]] DEAL FOR YOU IN [The Store]. A DEAL SO GOOD YOU WILL [$%$%]. [[You can, you should]] TAKE IT OR LEAVE IT!”

You frown at his different tone of speech. So then you...

“Spamton. I'll give you a deal myself, how about you live in my house for a while. It's on me, to repay you for all those times you paid for me of course. But, most importantly, for being my friend... before. Let's get along for our future interest, okay?” Giving him your hand, you smile shakily. Be that as it may, seeing how much he has changed, he may not want to involve himself with the past—you—as a reminder how things took a turn for him.

Though, you can't assume more than that when Spamton only stares down at your hand for a disturbingly quiet moment in a blank static gaze. “You're too kind for me.”

As soon as you were wondering what happened, he suddenly shake your hand up and down in a excited but stiff manner.

“A DEAL [Too Good To Be True!!?] I'M [[$$%*$%*]] MYSELF IS A PROMISE. A PROMISE IS [[A Debt]] YOU WILL TAKE MY WORD FOR IT.” He's trembling with that grin like before. “DO YOU ACCEPT THE TERMS OF AGREEMENT AS A PART OF [[We Are Business Partners, right]]?”

You nod.

“OUR DEAL IS [Sealed, Approved] ! IT WILL BE IN AS PER TODAY UNTIL [[This Contract Is Active For A Lifetime]].”

That's one way for him to say you're best friend forever, you suppose.

#deltarune x reader #deltarune spamton #spamton x reader #spamton deltarune #deltarune headcanon #narareqwishes

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bastetwastaken · 1 year

Text

It's my birthday today, and my brain has decided that my gift will be a flare in my depression, which means I've been writing something incredibly self indulgent. But I guess you all get a treat too so it's all good. <3 <3

Here's a lil something set in the Double Exposure universe but you don't need to have read the fic to understand it. Atem is having one of those days, and Yugi is more than happy to help him.

(Not explicitly stated but themes of dealing with depression under the cut)

......................

“You don’t seem like yourself today.” Mahad said from beside him.

“Hm.” He acknowledged his friend but didn’t really feel like saying much more.

The truth was that he didn’t feel like himself either. He didn’t understand why he had to feel this way sometimes but unfortunately he was used to it. He’d been fine when he woke up beside Yugi that morning, excited when Yugi kissed him goodbye and he hurried to the car to join Mahad and start his day, content to do as he was asked on set and enjoyed himself…

Then suddenly some time after lunch his mood had taken a turn for no reason other than his brain deciding he just wasn’t going to be happy that afternoon. He only hoped that hadn’t shown in his shoot.

He sighed and pulled his hood over his head as they exited the building, trying to hide behind Mahad instead of letting people see him. Recently he’d been taking more time to talk to fans who decided to wait for him and he’d at least humour the paparazzi, but today he didn’t feel like it.

Mahad seemed to take the hint that he wasn’t in the mood for talking and remained silent…until they were in the car.

“You don’t have to talk about anything else.” Mahad started. “But just answer one question, where are you spending the night?”

He hesitated for a moment, quickly weighing up what would be best, to go to Yugis and wait for him to return home in the place he found so much comfort in or to go back to the hotel with Mahad and spend his time in a soulless room.

His hand felt for the key in his pocket that Yugi had given him only a few days ago. He hadn’t used it yet, but Yugi had told him he was welcome in his home anytime, even if he wasn’t in.

It was the one place Atem could hide from the world.

“Yugis, please.” He said quietly.

Mahad nodded and continued to drive.

Swallowing a sigh he looked out of the window, staring at nothing in particular, but taking in the city all the same as he allowed his thoughts to wander. Yugi would still be working given the time and that suited him perfectly. He’d have Yugi's wonderful home to sit quietly in for an hour at least.

He was already looking forward to snuggling into Yugi's sofa with the overstuffed soft cushions, pulling the fuzzy blanket he always kept folded on the back of the sofa over him and just being surrounded by Yugi until he felt better.

Maybe he’d even get a quick shower too, he had some clothes at Yugis which he could change into and Yugi had told him he was welcome to do as he pleased when at his so he doubted he’d mind Atem helping himself to a shower.

Tears stung his eyes and he fought the urge to scream because he didn’t even know why. There was nothing that had upset him today, the date held no significance, people had been nothing but kind to him but still…he wanted to curl up into a ball and cry anyway.

Days like these came more often than he’d ever admit yet he was still to find a way to deal with them now he couldn’t drown his sorrows and ignore his feelings…

He didn’t realise where they were until the car stopped, then he recognised the house they were parked outside and he felt relieved to know that he didn’t have to be outside any longer, didn’t have to be in public.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow unless you let me know otherwise.” Mahad said softly. “Call me if you need anything.”

“Thank you.” He nodded, then jumped out of the car, pulling the key out of his pocket and making his way to Yugi's front door.

The Kuriboh charm hanging on the key smiled up at him as he turned the lock and despite how he was feeling, the little charm made him smile because it was just so…Yugi.

He closed the door softly behind him and then leaned forward, his palms flat against the surface and his forehead pressed to the smooth wood.

For a moment he just breathed.

In…out, slow and deep and he felt himself relax gradually. He felt the pressure of the day fall from his shoulders and he leaned heavily against the door, feeling as if he could finally drop the act, there were no expectations on him now, no need to fake smiles.

He was home now, he could just…be.

“Welcome home.” Yugi's voice startled him and he jumped upright, blinking rapidly to try to fight back the tears which threatened to fall as he turned to face his boyfriend.

“I’m sorry.” He said quickly. “I thought you were working…I would have knocked if-”

“It’s okay.” Yugi smiled at him and he so desperately wished he could find it in himself to return it easily but he felt his own smile was forced, he knew it didn’t quite reach his eyes and he could tell Yugi knew something was up. “I gave you that key for you to use anytime.”

He nodded, bending to take off his boots as Yugi moved over to him slowly. He took his time with the laces, not wanting to face Yugi just yet.

Of course he loved his boyfriend, of course he was glad to see him but he just…didn’t want to have to talk to anyone. Deep down he knew it would probably help, but he just couldn’t bring himself to speak right now.

Yugi never judged him, aside from Mahad, Yugi was the one person that he could allow himself to be vulnerable in front of, the one person who he didn’t mind losing himself around because he knew that no matter how far he fell, Yugi would bring him back.

Still though, he tried to keep most of it to himself. Old habits die hard and he’d been hiding his feelings for way too long now to simply…stop doing it.

He had long finished with his boots but he remained on the floor, trying to talk himself down before daring to look back up.

A gentle hand on his knee was the first thing that alerted him to the fact Yugi had joined him on the floor, he glanced up at him, then looked back down at the wood floor, following the grain with his eyes, not trusting himself to look at his boyfriend just yet.

“You don’t have to speak.” Yugi said quietly. “But I’m here.”

He nodded.

“It’s not…” He sighed. “It’s silly.”

“No.” Yugi's hand moved to take one of his, pulling it away from his boot and intertwining their fingers together. “What’s silly is that you thought you had to go through this alone.”

He looked at their joined hands, biting his lip as he tried to think of something to say. Nothing came to mind though.

“You trust me, right?” Yugi asked softly, his other hand coming to rest against his cheek, thumb brushing against his skin slowly as his face was gently lifted until he was looking at Yugi.

“Yes.” He said. Yugi gave him a small smile.

“Nothing I say can make what you’re feeling go away, but perhaps I can help make it a little better…Come with me.” Yugi said.

He nodded and let Yugi pull him to his feet, let him lead them back to the bedroom and felt the excitement stir in his stomach, but shook it off when Yugi walked past the bed and opened one of the drawers Atem kept some of his own clothes in too.

“Get comfortable.” Yugi said, handing him the only pair of sweatpants he owned and an oversized t-shirt. He took them, clutching them to his chest as he nodded, then Yugi reached out to place a hand against his cheek again, smiling at him. “When you’re ready come find me, I’ll be making tea.”

He leaned into Yugi’s touch, already feeling a little better having his boyfriend so close to him. When he stepped back Yugi gave him another sweet smile then he turned and left the room.

He stood there for a moment longer, hugging the soft clothes that smelled of Yugi to his chest and trying not to let himself go just yet, trying not to give into the way he wanted to just crumble to the floor, curl up on himself and cry until he couldn’t anymore.

Slowly he placed the clothes on the bed and he began to change. Shedding the clothes he’d spent all day in made him feel a little better, less restricted, less…judged.

Once he was fully changed, he felt a little lighter. He left the bedroom and walked toward the kitchen, Yugi looked over his shoulder and smiled at him when he walked in, then beckoned him over to the counter where he was standing.

Yugi held out an arm and he accepted the hint gladly, leaning against his boyfriends side and sighing happily when he was pulled into a tight hug. He smiled as he watched Yugi finish their drinks and this time it felt a little more natural on his face.

They didn’t remain there for long, Yugi nudged him gently and he moved away enough to let his boyfriend turn to face him.

Yugi joined their hands and looked into his eyes for a moment, a soft smile on his face.

“You know, you don’t have to be so brave when you’re with me.” Yugi told him.

He looked back into those beautiful eyes so full of patience and love, the eyes which had never judged him, never expected him to be anything more than he was, never wanted more from him than he was willing to give…and he broke.

The tears fell quickly, his shoulders shook and he took a shaky breath. He was pulled back into Yugi's arms immediately and he crumbled further. He leaned heavily against Yugi, forcing his boyfriend to lean back against the counter to hold them both up, but feeling Yugi's arms around him, hearing his soft words in his ear and having hands run slowly over his back was all the comfort he needed.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, pressing his face to Yugi's neck. “I don’t even know what’s wrong with me.”

“Atem, it’s okay.” Yugi said softly. “Nothing is wrong with you, it’s just one of those days, but I’m here for you. Let me love you.”

“I’ll try.” He sighed, his tears had stopped, but he remained hidden in Yugi's arms, safe from the world.

“You’re such a wonderful person.” Yugi said, hands running down his back slowly. “You always make me feel so good…I wish you’d treat yourself the same way you treat me.”

“I’m trying.” He said, hands tightening on Yugi’s shirt and holding him closer.

It wasn’t the first time Yugi had said something like that to him and it probably wouldn’t be the last, and he really was trying, but years of self hatred didn’t just disappear overnight and Yugi knew that.

“I know, and you’re doing amazing.” Yugi said softly, Atem felt his lips against his temple, a soft kiss followed even softer words. “Now, I’ll happily hold you for as long as you need me to, but we should move to the sofa instead of standing here in the kitchen.”

He nodded, Yugi was right, it couldn’t be comfortable for him to stand here with his back against the counter, Atems weight crushing him against the hard surface.

“I might take that offer for the rest of the night.” He said with a quiet laugh.

“Oh no, what a shame.” Yugi said sarcastically. “I’ll be stuck under a gorgeous model for the rest of the night, I really hate my life.”

The words made him giggle and Yugi laughed softly too.

“I’d hate to make you suffer.” He teased.

“Hm.” Yugi slid a hand up to his face to cup his cheek again. “It’s nothing I can’t handle. So take a cup and we can get comfortable.”

Reluctantly he forced himself out of his boyfriend's arms and picked up one of the two mugs Yugi had been filling when he joined him, walking to the living room and settling down on one half of the sofa.

Yugi took a seat next to him, holding an arm out to him as he leaned back into the cushions. He was all too happy to fall back into Yugi’s warm embrace.

Whilst they sipped their drinks, Yugi put one of Atems favourite movies on and held him close, he never spoke, didn’t try to force Atem to tell him anything and never asked him to do anything more than he was in that moment.

It was just what he needed.

As much as he had intended on dealing with his feelings by crying in the shower for a while then sitting in complete silence alone, he was glad Yugi had been home and that he didn’t have to spend time alone with his thoughts.

Once his cup was empty he shifted to lay down, Yugi moved with him and wrapped his arms around him, laughing as Atem buried his head under his chin.

“I’m glad you were home.” He said quietly.

“My late meeting was cancelled, so I decided to do the rest of my shift from home.” Yugi told him. “I’m glad I could be here for you.”

“Today has been tough.” He said after a moment of silence.

“I understand.” Yugi said, a hand ran through his hair and soothed his thoughts. “It’s not easy, but you made it through the day, and for that, I am so proud of you. Now though, you don’t need to be anything, you don’t need to do anything, just stay here with me.”

Those words made him blush and he hid his face in Yugi's neck, smiling to himself.

“Thank you.” He murmured.

“Is there anything you’d like to talk about?” Yugi pressed gently.

“There’s nothing to say.” He said honestly. “My mind is just…” He trailed off, not sure how to finish that sentence.

“I understand.” Yugi told him, sliding his fingers through his hair again. “If there’s anything you need, or anything I can do for you, just let me know.”

“I will.” He said, a content sigh left his lips when Yugi began running his hands slowly down his back, fingers slowly trailing down his spine and then back up, slipping into his hair before repeating the path again.

He felt himself relaxing further into Yugi, enjoying the way that their bodies fit together, how easily he melted into Yugi's embrace, the way Yugi’s touches made him feel even though they were only small.

His eyes closed and his breathing began to slow a little, but he fought to stay awake, they should get up soon and make some dinner or order something or-

“You can go to sleep, I don’t mind.” Yugi said quietly, lips against his temple and a hand running slowly through his hair again. “I won’t leave you.”

“Promise?” He asked although he knew the answer.

“I promise.” Yugi said, kissing his head softly. “I’ll never leave you.”

“I love you.” He whispered, closing his eyes and resting his head against Yugi's shoulder, placing a soft kiss to the collar bone exposed to him.

“And I love you.” Yugi replied, his voice so soft, Atem barely heard it. “More than anything on this earth.”

He sighed happily and melted into Yugi’s arms even more, breathing in the scent of Yugi’s skin and his home, feeling safe, warm and content to remain here for the rest of the night.

...................

If you wanna read the (complete) fic along with some amazing artwork in which these two idiots fall in love, check it out here on Ao3

#puzzleshipping #atem #yugi mutou #model au #journalist au #another stupid cliche thing from the mind of Bastet #fanfic #ygo dm #i just want a hug

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