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infinitystoner · 4 months

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Compliance

A continuation of Misconduct / MASTERLIST

Pairing: James Conrad x Female Reader

Summary: You disobeyed a direct order during a mission, and, now that you’re back in the safety of your motel room, Conrad reminds you that actions have consequences.

Word Count: 2.1k

Tags/Content: Established Relationship, Soft Dom!Conrad, Bratty Sub Behavior, Bondage, Orgasm Denial, Smut! Smut! Smut!, Plot? What Plot?

Rating: Explicit; 18+

“...you’re going to talk me through it.”

Conrad’s tongue darts across his bottom lip, drinking in the vision of you, bound and on your knees before him. He leans back, propping himself up on one elbow and spreading his legs with measured grace. His right hand is still wrapped around his cock, but he’s halted his motions.

In this moment, you grasp the gravity of your current situation and his need for control. You commit to doing whatever he asks of you.

“Go on, love. I’m waiting.”

“Stroke yourself… slowly,” you say, saliva pooling in your mouth as you watch Conrad unhurriedly move his hand along his hardening length. His piercing gaze remains focused on yours.

Yes, you’ll give him exactly what he wants tonight.

He should be careful what he asks for.

“Now imagine my warm tongue against your balls, licking my way up your cock until—” you pause, watching Conrad’s hand tighten around his cock as he pumps faster, groaning out a string of curses. Your pussy shamelessly throbs in response and you press your thighs together in an effort to relieve the burning ache, groaning when the seam of your jeans provides the tiniest bit of friction. “—until my lips wrap around the tip. Touch yourself there.”

At your words, he runs the pad of his thumb over the head of his cock, whimpering as his hips jerk.

“Come closer,” Conrad growls.

The intoxicating scent of him envelopes you, and you suppress the urge to take him in your mouth as you settle into your new position between his thighs. You’re determined to prove you can be obedient, but you wonder how long this little game will last. Because for the past six months, you and Conrad have followed the same routine: complete an assignment, come back to the motel, and release your collective adrenaline.

His stamina post-mission is always impressive. You can’t wait for him to rail you within an inch of your life.

“Imagine your cock hitting the back of my throat as I gag around you.”

You wet your lips as Conrad continues to thrust into his hand, tossing his head back as his hips shift off the edge of the bed. He’s quick to catch himself, but his cock grazes your mouth before he does so, and you give in – licking the tip as he groans above you.

“Naughty girl,” he rasps, cupping your chin as he runs his thumb over your bottom lip. The rough timbre of his voice reverberates through you, settling in your core as your traitorous hips buck against the edge of the mattress.

“Stand up.”

He knows exactly what he’s doing, giving you these brusque commands. The heat swirling through your cunt pulses in time with your frantic heartbeat. You don’t stand a chance.

Conrad steadies you when you struggle to rise to your feet. So much for being seductive. But he doesn’t seem to mind. He’s honed in – hastily unfastening your pants and tugging them over the curve of your ass with ease as he positions you between his knees. His cock, resting heavy against his thigh, twitches as he runs a finger through your folds. The way he parts his lips and slants his brows lets you know he’s recalculating his next move.

“You’re soaked.”

“Let me come,” you say as he strokes your swollen clit with calloused, practiced fingertips.

“Not yet,” he replies, pulling away. “Bend over.”

His firm chest presses against yours as he stands. Tilting your head up to meet his gaze, you note your own lust is reflected in his eyes.

Any other man would likely fuck you into the mattress, but Conrad is not just any man. He’s methodical, precise in his actions. There are never any hasty decisions with him. No sudden deviations from the plan.

It’s what you love most about him; yet, earlier tonight, you’d commandeered his mission and subsequently betrayed his trust.

Conrad meticulously positions you in front of him. You don’t say a word, instead imagining the intense focus on his face: the furrow of his brow, the way his lips press together in concentration, a hint of his tongue peeking out. He guides your upper body to rest against the bed before seizing the belt around your wrists as if it’s a rein. The thought of him riding you to the edge of oblivion sends a tingling thrill up your spine.

“Is this alright?” he asks.

Craning your neck, you finally take in the sight of him behind you as he bends his knees to line himself up. He’s a terrible tease, and the well-worn denim of his jeans tickles the back of your thighs as he drags his cock along your pussy, applying just enough pressure to drive you mad.

“Just fuck me already,” you whine, and Conrad chuckles as you writhe beneath him. There are several reasons why you shouldn’t goad him, but that requires a presence of mind you don’t currently possess.

“Such a filthy mouth. But, if you insist.”

Conrad snatches the belt as he buries himself in your cunt, bottoming out in one swift snap of his hips. Your back arches and you cry out at the sensation of being so perfectly full. His fingertips once again find your clit, delicious pressure building in your hips as he mimics the wave of pleasure that crashes over you each time his hips roll against your ass.

“Need to come, James. Please.”

“Do you think you deserve it?”

“I- I …” you stutter, every last brain cell focused on the feel of his cock dragging along your g-spot.

“Answer. Me.” Each word is punctuated with an agonizingly slow thrust. Both his hands are now firmly holding your hips down, but you attempt to squirm anyway, your throbbing clit searching for pressure or friction — anything to aid you in toppling you over the edge. But Conrad’s grip keeps you still and at his mercy.

“Oh, you wicked thing,” he drawls, leaning over, his solid form pressing you further into the mattress.

“So wicked,” you agree as he leans back and smacks your ass, the sweet sting making you clench around his cock.

“God,” he breathes out between gritted teeth, his large hand kneading your cheek before giving it another swift smack. “You must want- want me to fuck the brat out of you.”

Conrad wraps an arm around your midriff, pulling your body back against him.

“You can try.” You rise to your tip-toes as he continues to rock into you, your bound hands clutching at the hem of his t-shirt. A deep laugh rumbles in his chest as he leans down to whisper against the shell of your ear.

“Oh? Is that what you really want? Will a proper fuck set you straight?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

You know it drives him wild when you call him that, and, as predicted, his movements become more frenzied. The sounds of Conrad’s groans as his cock slides into your pussy over and over again are hypnotic. He’s quickly losing himself – and so are you. The noises of bliss he’s pulling from you meld with his own as they reverberate around the room, and soon you’re ready to scream out his name. It’s only when his hips judder and he rests his forehead against your back as rides out his climax that you realize he’s not going to let you come.

“You did so good,” Conrad praises as he unfastens the belt from your forearms and pulls you into his embrace. He brings your wrist up to his lips, tenderly kissing all the places the leather dug into your flesh. You whine as your orgasm ebbs.

“Do you know why I didn’t grant you release?”

You’re frustrated, and he knows it. You open your mouth to reply with some bratty retort, but Conrad simply tuts, pressing a finger to your lips.

“Because you were impatient. Disobedient. And for this,” he motions between you, “to work, I can’t have you taking unnecessary risks out there. Is that understood?”

Your heart plummets at the realization that you’ve truly disappointed him. Your mind whirs as remorse floods your senses – there’s got to be some way to make him realize how much you regret your earlier misconduct.

“I understand,” is all you manage to say.

“Good. Now,” Conrad says, nodding towards the bathroom. “Let’s get cleaned up.”

The shower soothes you and rinses away some of your worries, but then Conrad joins you. As you silently begin to wash the dirt and sweat off each other’s bodies, something more than water slickens the space between your thighs. You guide his hand to the crease of your hip, praying those talented fingers will finally grant you release.

He leans back to observe your face. “Feeling quite bold tonight, are we?”

“I need you, James.”

“I know, darling. But I need you to take this seriously.”

A whine rumbles at the back of your throat as he steps out of the tub, his glorious ass on full display as he reaches for the towels. In quiet defeat, you turn the faucet off, watching the water circle the drain. What a fool you’ve been.

Conrad gently wraps a towel around your shoulders and helps you out of the shower, his touch a comforting anchor in the midst of vulnerability.

“What if your plan had backfired? You could have been captured — or worse…” his voice trails off, like he can’t bring himself to say it.

Because the mission’s success and your safe return home had been pure dumb luck. You replay the moment it all went to hell: Your target, a bureaucrat being held captive by a small crew of outlying militants, was left unguarded. You took advantage of the opportunity and succeeded in securing the abducted party. But you had compromised not only your own safety, but everyone else’s, in the process.

His voice drops as he nudges his nose against yours. “There is only one thing that matters to me in this life, and that is you, my precious girl.”

Conrad runs his thumb over your cheek, and your heart drops into your stomach as those crystal blue eyes look down at you with unwavering devotion. You don’t deserve him, and yet he is yours – completely.

“And I- I cannot bear the thought of something happening to you.”

“It won’t happen again. I promise,” you reply quietly, wanting to say more, yet realizing that your words aren’t enough. Not when you were so reckless.

“I want to believe you,” he murmurs against your lips before kissing you. It’s brief – much too brief – and you do your best to ignore the twinge of pain that jabs your heart as he walks away.

You’ll do whatever it takes to earn back his sacred trust. Taking a deep breath to compose yourself, you search the small armoire tucked in the corner of the motel bathroom for an item Conrad gifted you months ago as a peace offering. Finally, you find it: an embroidered beige negligee. The thin silk highlights the contours of your curves, and you delight in the way it skims over your damp skin as you walk into the bedroom.

Something akin to hope bubbles inside you because Conrad is waiting for you there, leaning against the pillows, long legs stretching across the bed and his bath towel slung low around his hips. The tense pinch between his brows softens as he notes what you’re wearing. He beckons you to him.

“Surely you’re not ready for sleep yet?” he teases as you lie down next to him, the scent of lavender soap intertwining with the heady, lingering smell of sex.

“I’m much too stimulated to sleep,” you admit with sigh, nuzzling into the crook of his neck.

“Oh?” He rolls on top of you, pushing the hem of your nightgown above your hips before caging you between his arms. “We’ll have to do something about that then.”

“Are you sure I deserve it?” you ask, although you widen your hips in anticipation. Conrad settles between them, quickly discarding his towel. The soft amber light of the sconces above your bed highlights the expanse of muscles rippling beneath his taut, tanned skin. He looks at you through half-lidded eyes and you think you might break under the weight of his gaze.

“My love. This life we lead… it’s dangerous. Imperfect. That is what you don’t deserve.”

At times, it feels like you’re standing on the precipice of your own destruction. The love you possess for this gorgeous man consumes you like a raging wildfire, and you know it will inevitably leave a trail of ashes in its wake. You inhale, gliding your fingers across the sharp line of his cheekbone before curling your hand around the back of his neck.

“It’s the life I want – the life I choose. Every day,” you assure him. “Just as I choose you, James. Every day.”

Whatever he sees in your expression must convince him you’re telling the truth because, as he slowly guides himself inside you, he says,

“I believe you.”

#james conrad smut #james conrad x reader #captain james conrad x reader #captain james conrad #captain james conrad smut #kong: skull island

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victoriadallonfan · 3 days

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Not to claim Godzilla x Kong was a deep film, but credit where it’s due, it has by far the most respectful portrayal of indigenous people in all of the Kong films.

This is not a high bar and I’m NOT saying it’s the pinnacle of progressive film work, but it’s interesting nonetheless.

Spoilers below, of course.

For those of you who haven’t seen any of the older Kong films outside of the Monsterverse, the general plot beat is that a wealthy businessman/philanthropist/greedy asshole goes to Skull Island to find something new to make a lot of money (film for the OG/Peter Jackson and Oil for the 70’s film), and comes across a tribe of “barbarian” natives who kidnap the beautiful white woman whom they sacrifice to Kong, whom they worship.

It’s such a cliche that even Peter Jackson does it in his 2005 film (and it’s possibly even more racist than the older ones):

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As you can see, there is a very familiar pattern

The Iwi tribe of the Monsterverse is handled very differently

In Kong: Skull Island, it actually does try to play into previous viewers perceptions; we meet the Iwi as the protags stumble upon their village ruins and are surrounded by. Tension is tight, and it looks like it’ll be a repeat of the previous films… until the character of Hank Marlow arrives and diffuses the tension entirely, revealing that the Iwi have been generous and caring hosts to him.

And yes, while they do worship Kong, it’s not out of fear, but rather that Kong protects them from the hazards of Skull Island. The Iwi are the ones who help the crew get a working ship and aid them in escaping the island.

This is followed up in Godzilla vs Kong, where we tragically learn that a massive tropical storm (I think implied to be due to King Ghidorah hurricanes) sank the entire island and left Jia as the sole survivor of her tribe, saved due to Kong protecting her from the rising floods.

Kong and Jia are then seen as a near inseparable duo, further twisting the “beauty and beast” dynamic of the previous films, making it more about how they are both alone except for each other. Kong even learns sign language from Jia in one of the best movie reveals of the series:

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It’s even Jia who is able to give Kong the morale boost to save Godzilla from Mechagodzilla.

And then we get into Godzilla x Kong. Kong and Jia, while having a new home, still feel isolated because of their cultures (or lack thereof) and make excuses to see each other as much as possible. Which is turned on its head as Kong finds other Apes and the Iwi tribe have returned (or at least) an offshoot of them, as the protectors of humanity who calls Godzilla to their aid.

I was a bit wary of making them telepathic, but I liked that they used it more like a separate language than a superpower, with Jia serving as that bridge as she finds her culture, her adoptive mother accepts that Jia may want this life more than one back home (where she felt out of place), and Jia becoming ANOTHER bridge as she helps resurrect Mothra who goes onto make Godzilla and Kong form an alliance!

Ultimately, Jia parts ways with the Iwi on good terms to live with her adoptive mother, happy to know there are people of her culture she can visit and Kong lives on with his people.

But I especially appreciate a moment in the film that pretty much lampshades the older Kong movies.

One of the characters is filming himself and others as they venture into Hollow Earth, desperate to get his fame and fortune in making people realize he was a hero and not a conspiracy theorist (he was a spy for Apex Labs, the ones who built mechagodzilla in the first place). Another character is an animal doctor and naturalist, who points out that, historically, native populations don’t tend to do well when exposed to the modern world.

Add on to the fact that the Iwi are telepathic and know how to use crystals to alter gravity in Hollow Earth, they would absolutely be the target of government operations and experimentation. Aka, a far more grand version of what happens in the older Kong films.

The film ends with the footage not being used and the Iwi living in peace, having Mothra once more to protect them.

Like I said, it’s not groundbreaking stuff, but I appreciate how different it is.

#godzilla #kong #king kong #monsterverse #godzilla vs kong #godzilla x kong: the new empire #kong skull island #kong: skull island #Iwi tribe #Jia #Youtube

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lokitvsource · 2 years

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#because arms

#tom hiddleston #hiddlesedit #hiddleston daily #dilfgifs #dilfsource #dailyflicks #mensource #dailymenedit #movieedit #filmedit #thiddlesedit #thiddlestonedit #userflor #userannie #usersarah #kong: skull island #*#by polly

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mig-murgthenurg · 21 days

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One of my favourite parts about the New Empire was Kong's first interaction with Suko

The trailers all hyped up Suko to be some "cute widdle monke" then he turns out to be a total knee-biting bastard and Kong immediately decides "fuck this kid" before proceeding to use him as an improvised club against the other Apes.

#godzilla x kong spoilers #gxk spoilers #godzilla x kong: the new empire #kong: skull island #monsterverse #monsterverse kong #suko

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leotanaka · 4 months

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kong: skull island hits differently after watching monarch: legacy of monsters 1x09 especially when you look at billy's behaviour and how determined he is to get proof, how callous and indifferent he is as to his actions and his own wellbeing and his complete and utter lack of remorse over all the people he just got killed particularly, in the context of billy saying: "dig up a titan and show them a catastrophe"

#monarch: legacy of monsters #monarch legacy of monsters #mlom #mlom spoilers #bill randa #william randa #kong: skull island #monsterverse

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neopuff · 10 months

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Irene // Kong: Skull Island

#kong: skull island #kong skull island #irene #mygifs #im luv her #yes im editing with her right now #skull island

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 6 months

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𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as violence, blood, mentions of cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

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

Summary: Your suspicions lead to a discovery you'll never forget. (Part of the Illuminate AU)

Characters: James Conrad

Note: This is our last installment for October. I had a lot of fun with this and I hope you did too. Let me know what you think about me possibly opening drabble reqs/imagines as little continuations of these fics.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

“Be careful,” you gird as James grabs his suitcase, his black wool coat buttoned up under his grey scarf, “the roads are awful. Are you sure you can’t delay?”

You cross your arms and shiver as the frigid winter seeps in around the front door behind him. He gives a mournful shake of his head. He looks gaunt and ashen, a feat for someone with his bone structure. He makes himself smile and steps towards you, cradling the back of your head as he draws you close to kiss your forehead.

You close your eyes and tilt your head up, claiming a kiss on the mouth too. He pulls you close, embracing you tightly. You feel him tense before he lets you go. Your anxiety heightens as you retract and look him up and down.

It isn’t unusual for him to travel for work, you knew that when accepted the job, and you can’t complain for the profit of his efforts. Yet, the last few times, you’ve had this uneasy feeling. A little voice that keeps whispering to you that something is amiss. There’s something you’re not being told.

“I will,” he avows, “love you.”

“Love you too,” you echo on impulse. You mean it but that doubt nips inside of you.

“I’ll call…” he says, “please, don’t worry too much about me.”

“I always worry,” now that is true.

“Stay in tonight,” he says as he tucks his gloves into his pocket and hooks his finger through his keys, “it’s cold.”

“Trust me, I won’t be out,” you scoff, “bye babe.”

“Bye,” he says reticently, unable to restrain a twiddle in his fingers.

He faces the door and lets himself out. You follow behind him as he pulls the door shut and you push on it to make sure it catches. You hover your hand on the lock and watch him through the slender pane of glass set into the door. He looks back as he gets to the car, raising his hand in a half-hearted wave.

He could cancel, couldn’t he? Say the weather was too much, the roads icy. He should be able to and he hardly seems eager to go. Or perhaps, only guilty…

You can’t wait another month for your answer. You back away from the door without locking it and take out your phone. You pull up the app and see the little dot in your driveway, backing out slowly. You shouldn’t have done it, you shouldn’t have slipped the tag in his bag, but you know you won’t sleep either way.

You’ll wait ten minutes before you leave. You slide open the closet and pull out your jacket and boots. You’ll have to keep your distance, try not to catch up. If he gets to the interstate, you’ll turn back. You’ll know then if he’s lying or not.

🌕

The sky darkens quickly. With your headlights off, it's even more umbrous. A full moon is expected and would help illuminate the road if it even deigns to emerge from behind the clouds.

You follow the dot on your phone, driving slowly to keep a safe distance, to not be seen. Your husband's care turns away from the interstate and your dread mounts. He doesn't head for the country roads either.

It's only as you take the next turn and hit gravel that you realise exactly where you are. You're headed into the industrial district. What a choice for a hookup. You're convinced now.

You dim the screen of your phone as the dot of the airtag blinks closer and closer in the app. You steer slowly over the stony lot past one of the block factories and past an inactive smokestack. You stop just as you spot the idling tail lights of James’ car.

You shut off your engine and watch as he does the same. You watch him through the darkness, the pillow clouds of the winter’s night casting him in ominous shadows. He gets out, his tall silhouette slightly hunched as he nearly staggers forward. He shakes his head as if he’s dizzy.

He nears the large building before him, soft light radiating around the crack of the large metal door. You note that he doesn’t bring his bag from the back seat. You already know this isn’t business, but that’s all the proof you need to sink into your despair.

You watch as the tall metal door slides back from within and he dips his head as he’s greeted by another figure within. You see only her outline. Her. You shudder and tear your gaze away, staring at the stone on your finger. You hear the heavy shift of the door as it rolls shut, clanging as it’s locked from the other side.

Fuck. What now? You know what he’s been up to but you don’t have a plan beyond that. Do you drive home and cry into a glass of wine? Do you get out and confront him? Tell him not to come back.

Suddenly, the world brightens around you as the layers of clouds recede and reveal the full face of the moon. The silver light beams down and shines on James’ car and the front of the dingy white industrial building.

Your eyes sting as you find yourself paralysed. Go back or forward. You don’t know what way to go.

A starling growl rips through the whistling wind and jars you. You look around, horrified by the noise, something eerie you can’t place. A wolf? Around here? You grip the wheel tight as your eyes return to the dented facade of the abandoned factory.

Your inaction, your indecision holds you there. Deep down, you didn’t want to believe. You couldn’t. You love James so much that maybe you can get through this.

Your hopeless thoughts are interrupted by the sudden shatter of glass. Shocked, you look up to the rain of shards as they fall from the second story of the building. A dark shape plummets from the height and heaps onto the ground, twitching. Oh god, it can’t be!

You lean forward, trying to see if the figure is still moving. Is it a person? Is it him? That fear submerges you and cuts through your hurt and anger. You get out without another doubt, leaving the car door open and you race towards the puffing body on the ground.

As you near, you slow, stopping just a few feet away as you realise it can’t possibly be your husband. It isn’t even human. The… creature raises its head, sniffing with its long snout as it bears its teeth with a ravenous snarl. Its silver eyes meet yours as you stumble back in terror.

What is that?

You shriek as it plants its feet and rises. You step backwards, twisting on your heel as you hurl yourself back towards your car. You run without looking back, hearing that thing pursuing you with its gritty breaths and crashing paws. No, no, no!

You pant as your shoulder hits the door of your car. You barely keep it from closing full and pull it back. As you do, you feel a fiery rip through your flesh, right down the back of your leg, ripping through your muscle. You kick back and launch yourself into the front seat.

You turn and pull the door shut, catching the wolfish monster’s head between it and the metal frame. You cling to the door as it snaps its jaw at you, growling and slobbering your leg throbs hotly. You shift the door and inch and pull it shut, slamming it against the beast's neck. It yelps and as it recoils and you let up enough for it to reel back in the dirt.

You quickly lock the doors and the windows and face the wheel. Your leg is almost impossible to control as it shakes, slick with blood as it seeps through your jeans. You’re dizzy as you feel your strength draining fast.

You won’t make it far if you don’t stem the flow. Fast! The beast hops onto your hood, its claws denting it as it hammers on the metal. You take your scarf from around your neck and tie it above your knee, tight, then tear away the dangling patch of your jeans to wrap the gash down your calf.

You shake as you sit back and turn the keys in the slot. You feel the fire radiating up your thigh, like your veins are filling with acid. The creature bends back the corner of your hood and the rumble of your engine dies as it buries its dagger-like claws into it. Fuck!

The monster turns its silver irises back on you, breath puffing as it watches you through the windshield. It spins and raises its paws, bringing them down on the glass, sending a spider web of cracks through it. It rears back again but before it can bring down the shattering hit, a blur swipes it off the front of the car.

You hear snarling and snapping. You squint as the edges of your vision blur. You’re losing too much blood. You can feel the world fading from you.

You glance over as another lupine creature tangles with the first. They’re fighting, rolling in the dirt and snow, thrashing and biting. Your head lolls back against the seat and your gaze wanders over to the building as you resign yourself to the weakness dragging your eyelids down.

In your final moments, worry bubbles over and pangs in your chest. That beast. James was inside, had it hurt him too? Is he still alive?

🌕

The world pulses around you, just on the other side of your unconscious. Blustering gales pound against metal, sweeping through and glossing over your raw cheeks. The rest of you is enshrined in ice, the dull hum of hot air blowing from something electric.

Your nose is dry and your lips are crackly, your body bound in achy knots. Your leg is emblazoned in fire as you quake, the frigid cold invading your very person. You cling to the blanket cocooned around you, groaning as your eyelids slowly lift.

There’s something musty in the air, a smell that makes your stomach churn. And your dry tongue is stained with the residue of something vile, metallic and visceral. You swallow and cough, rattling as you’re certain the pungent scent of blood is your own.

Visions of your wolfish attacker return to you and have you whining. Is this death? Purgatory perhaps. The high ceilings and iron rafters watching over you, a moon wrought in similar material hanging at one end of large space, with hands that tick like a clock, the words waxing and waning twisted on each side of the frame.

You cough again, a hoarse deep crackle that catches in your throat. You hear something, the soft clang of metal under rubber, soles nearing you as a shadow looms along your peripheral. A hush that hisses before a stolid heat spreads across your forehead.

“Shhhhh, honey,” James’ voice comforts you as it drawls like syrup, “don’t move, alright?”

He comes around the other side of the couch you lay on, his features narrowing in and out of focus. He drags close a chair and sits near you, taking your hand in his, doting on it as he kisses your knuckles. He tilts his head to press his brow to your fingers, as if praying.

“I’m sorry,” he utters, “I tried…”

“James,” you croak, “what…”

“I think… I don't think I was too late,” he doesn’t raise his head, “but I don’t know if it was the right thing.”

“Please,” you rasp.

“The moon wasn’t gone yet, it wasn’t…” He murmurs, “I wasn’t too late…”

You don’t understand his ramblings. He rocks as he clings to your hands, raising his head as his eyes glisten. He watches you, terrified and ashen. He leans in and stands slightly to place a kiss on your forehead.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he cradles your cheek, “this is what I never wanted…”

“You…” you close your eyes and remember, “lied?”

“I had to,” he says, “to protect you. To try– if you knew what I am–” he stops himself. He shifts, the chair legs scraping, and you feel the blanket tug up your legs. You shiver as he moves your legs. He unwraps it from the fabric rolled around it. He lets his thumb trace up the scabbed skin and lets out another shaky breath, “it worked…”

“What is going on?” You hiss and snap your eyes open, whimpering as you try to rip your leg away from his touch.

“Oh, no,” he pulls back and puts his head in his hands, “oh, sweetheart, I don’t know… I never wanted you to hate me–”

You wince as metal rumbles, clattering loudly behind him, revealing a grey winter morning and letting in a virulent gust. James stands, nearly toppling the chair, and faces the new arrival. He squares his shoulder, a formidable man even without his posturing.

“You!” He snarls, “shut the damn door!”

“Huh?” The female responds with a grunt, “good morning to you too–”

“You fucking idiot!” He storms towards her just as she slides the door shut, the echo of it hitting the frame rattles you. And his timbre. You've never heard him so angry, or even speak like that. “You— You—”

You see the woman, a blond much shorter than him, but unintimidated by his advance. Her blonde hair is tinged scarlet at the ends, something red caked down her chest, shamelessly peeking out from beneath her shredded attire. She puts her hands on her hips as she faces him boldly.

“What?” She challenges, eyes wandering to you, “oh… who’s this, Conrad?”

He sneers and steps into her line of sight, “my wife. Who you scratched–”

“I… I did?” She scoffs.

“Fuck off, Yelena,” he shoves her, “don’t play fucking stupid with me.”

“Oh, you want to be a bitch?” She retorts, “what happened to pack rules. We don’t touch each other.”

“You were going to kill her–” Your head spins at their conversation. What are they talking about?

“She shouldn’t have been here!”

You hug the blanket as your teeth chatter. Kill you? Flashes of dark fur, the grind of bending metal, the hiss of the engine as it dies, and the beastly silver eyes. No, it can’t be.

“What are you?” You whisper.

Their argument quiets and the both turn to you, faces shadowed with guilt. The woman, Yelena, he called her, glances at him from the corner of her eyes. His shoulders drop and he hangs his head.

“She is still alive,” she comments. “Maybe I didn’t cut very deep.”

“Deep enough,” he shakes his head, “I had to…” he can’t finish the sentence. She frowns and pats his back, “you saved her life. You did what you had to and…” she smirks, “it isn’t so bad.”

“Speak for yourself,” he growls and shrugs her off.

He crosses to you again and resumes his seat. You watch him, speechless with confusing. You put your hands to the stiff cushion under you and push yourself up. You grunt at the effort it takes and your eyes find the ripple gash along the back of your leg. You stare at the crackly brown scabbing.

“How long…” you wonder.

“Ten hours. Look, I’ll explain but–”

Ten hours. A cute that serious couldn't heal that quickly. That's impossible.

The large door rolls open again. He cringes and his forehead lines with frustration at the interruption. You strain to see past him as a couple enters, the man striding nonchalantly, buck naked as a woman follows wrapped in a plaid blanket. She’s disheveled as he brazenly taps her ass, urging her ahead of him before he slides the door shut with an effortless nudge.

“Of course, Jesus,” James looks back over his shoulder, “Kraven, put something on. The fuck. What happened to not drawing attention?”

“Mm, it’s nice out,” the other man, Kraven grins, curling his arm around the woman who seems less than comforted by his embrace. She looks exhausted. “Oh, and who is this? So worried for me bringing back stragglers?”

James rolls his eyes and looks back to you. He’s quiet as he gives you a helpless expression. He stands and leans over you, keeping his voice low, “I’ll explain when it’s not chaos.”

He tries to press a kiss to your forehead but you turn your head so he can only peck your temple. Explain what? Who are these people? Where is she? The woman who must’ve drawn him into all this.

James crosses the room and snatches up another blanket, throwing it at the naked man. “A bit of decency.”

“Hey, this is my home,” Kraven snips.

The woman grabs the blanket as it drapes from his shoulder and she puts it around his waist, knotting it at the top. He lets her, unbothered entirely. He bends his head side to side, cracking the tension from it.

“Where’s the fucking coffee?”

“Language,” James warns as he looms before you.

“Kettle’s boiling,” an unfamiliar voice squeaks and another woman appears from the edge of the room. You have no idea where she came from.

Your head is pounding from the building wall of sounds around you. You hear the kettles now, heating up slowly, and the blasting blow of the electric heater, the wailing winds, the pulsing of heartbeats all around you. You cover your ears and cry out, “be quiet!”

“Ah, I see, a new friend,” Kraven muses.

“His wife,” Yelena explains.

“Another?” The quiet woman who drifts like a ghost adds.

“What happened to not shitting where you eat?” Yelena snips, “am I the only one who doesn’t bring their scraps home?”

“What scraps?” A voice comes from above and you peer up at a dark-haired man watching from the second level.

“Ah, don’t start, thrall-fucker,” Yelena sneers up at the man. The woman who stands near the shaking kettle looks away guiltily as the couple wrapped in blankets peek at her. Yelena chuckles, “oh, you didn’t know?”

“Quietttttttt,” another voice adds to the chaos as a tall blonde man appears at the top of the stairs, “she is sleeping.”

“Mm, and his precious little doll,” Yelena mumbles as she blows a raspberry. “When did you all get so goddamn cheesy?”

The kettle suddenly whistles, carving a cavern in your skull. You cover your ears and writhes, screaming again. Everything needs to stop!

“Enough!” James hollers, “Belova, Kemp, Kraven, Warlock, here. The rest, go!”

The room stills. The exchanges of looks, some amused, others skeptical, a few frightened. The woman in the blanket moves first as the man taps her arm, then the woman near the kettle follows her up the stairs as the tall blond descends past them and the dark-haired man above makes his way down without urgency.

Several doors above close as you look at those who remain. Yelena, that man Kraven, and the two other men. James turns to you, “Yelena, make my wife a coffee as I sort this out.”

“Is she dying?” The dark-haired man in wooly sweater asks. The other smells the air and his narrow eyes focus on you.

“She’s turning,” the blond declares.

“She is my wife,” James puts his hand up, “alright, so let me goddamn explain this to her.”

A few shrugs but no real response. Yelena pours the water that sounds like a tidal wave to you. James stands behind the armchair as he watches you.

“Look, this isn’t easy so I will be entirely clear. That… wolf you saw last night was Yelena, that woman there. And the other, if you recall, that…” his throat bobs, “was me. And these others, Kraven,” he gestures to the bare-chested man, “Adam,” the tall blond, “and Steve,” the man with the dark swoop of hair, “are the same. All cursed. Like me and now, you.”

“What–”

“I had to… you would die if I didn’t–”

You look at the ceiling, searching as your heart flutters. You don’t understand. It’s somehow not as bad yet worse than what you feared. He’s not cheating but he lied to you all the same. And now… if he had just told you, you wouldn’t have come. But would you have believed him?

Your eyes fall upon the metal-moon hung on the wall, the long arms marking the phases of the moon. Last night was a full moon…

“You’re…”

“A monster,” James confirms, “I’m very sorry. I couldn’t tell you. Maybe I should’ve tried…” he sighs and sits again, taking your hand, “I won’t ask forgiveness, it is entirely selfish to put this on you, but you will not be alone. Or judged. We only do what we must to survive.”

“What you must… you…”

“There are simple rules. When the moon is full, you’ll change. You can’t stop it but you must heed it. If you do not feed by sunrise,” he pauses and takes a breath. Yelena approaches with a mug and you take it dumbly, unsure what else to do, “then you die. It’s us or them.”

Your eyes gloss and you shake your head. What does that mean? You know, but…

“Last night…” you eke out.

“It wasn’t much,” he squeezes your free hand, “enough to keep you alive. With me.”

He has the sense to look mortified. You wiggle your hand free and turn your head. You can’t look at him. It’s not just what he’s done to you, but the thought of what he’s done to others, and what he’ll continue to do. What he wants you to do. What you have to do.

You swallow and stare at the black depths of your coffee. You feel your audience watching you. These beasts.

“I want to go home,” you murmur.

“Alright, I’ll take you…” he agrees softly.

“Now,” you demand, “away from these monsters.”

“Ha, you’re one of us–” Kraven begins.

“Shut up,” Adam barks at him, “James, we understand. Take her home. You are always welcome for the moon.”

“Wow, dinner and a show,” Steve snickers, “pretty good night if you ask me.”

Their casual attitudes are callous in your ears. Is this what you’ll become? Apathetic? Inhuman?

Last night, you were ready to do anything to keep your husband. You were even going to forgive him for straying from your marriage. But this, you don’t know if you can ever get past this.

#james conrad #dark james conrad #dark!james conrad #james conrad x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #illuminate #series #au #werewolf au #kong: skull island

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