#wicked... rest uneasy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

onmyyan · 7 months

Text

Kiss the goat

A/N: Horror isekai? Horror isekai, here's part one of the Scream chapters, unedited, hope you like cuz it was so much fun writing

Pairing: Yandere Poly Ghostface x reader

It was such an odd sensation, you don't think you'd ever truly get used to it, no matter how many times it washed over you.

It was always the same, tranquil lull, and it always started in your lower tummy, like this wave of ice cold water suddenly replaced all the blood in your veins.

Whenever you first 'woke up' somewhere new, that damn feeling was always the first thing you noticed, and the only warning you'd get.

This time though, something was different. There was this mix of fear, confusion, and awe tossed in with the lull because you clocked your location immediately.

Ba-dum Ba-dum Ba-dum

For a moment all you could hear was the the blood pounding in your eardrums, slowly , as you forced yourself to breathe, the surrounding noises faded in, at first it was just the chatter of a busy school, then you noticed the shuffle of feet dragging on concrete, with your heart pounding furiously against your rib cage, you pinched your thigh through your baggy blue jeans and began walking, focusing on forcing your feet to move, rather than the millions of other thoughts buzzing through your skull. Why? Well because there you stood, dropped right before the soon-to-be infamous Woodsboro High.

As you walked amongst the crowd of people there were a few things you noticed immediately about yourself, at least this version of yourself, which seemed to change with every new plot you were forcibly thrown in.

The jeans you wore were loose fitting and well loved, small holes in the denim here and there gave you a typical 90's degenerate vibe, the soft cotton of the band T-shirt you were in felt comfortable against your skin, around your waist hung a oversized burgundy flannel with accents of mustard yellow, the fabric looked old and smelled of weed, a sigh rolled through your chest at the familiar smell, it was a bittersweet reminder of your life before this insanity began.

Glancing down at your outfit made you breath out a sigh of relief, at least you dressed better in this one. In the small shirt pocket, you felt a book of matches, the scratchy texture of telling you what it was without needing to pull it out, good to know.

Shaking your head you try your best to look as bored and uninteresting as possible, you've found these things were best tackled from a stealthy perspective. As you finally enter the school, the second you step through the open doors, there's this intense, hair-raising feeling that washes over you, everything in your gut is saying run away, turn around, but you don't.

Instead, you swallow the fight-or-flight instincts and continue your pace as if you hadn't noticed the predatory stare on you. It didn't surprise you, after all, the self-proclaimed directors of this twisted movie were bound to notice a new player being introduced so suddenly, you just hadn't yet gotten used to the uneasy feeling of being in the presence of a murderer.

Or in this movies case, murderers.

The stares you received from the rest of the student body helped to distract you from the heavy stares burning into you, as you leisurely walked down the halls people either mean-mugged you or ignored you, it helped to get a better feel for the role you'd been assigned, depending on how well you played said role was going to determine whether or not you ended up on the kill count.

For now, you kept it pushing, your hands resting comfortably in the pockets of your jeans, your right hand, which you only now noticed was covered in rings, brushed against the cool touch of something small and metal, you quickly pulled out the object to reveal a switchblade, the handle a glossy white with a simple heart scratched into the surface, quickly you tucked it back where you'd found it.

The grin that had stretched across your face as you traversed the halls was downright wicked, in your mini search you'd also come across a crinkled class schedule and a pack of gum. Curious (e/c) eyes diligently scanned the face of every student that passed, searching for any clue as to when exactly you'd popped in, having a clear timeline in mind made these things run so much smoother.

Casey Beckem gave you that answer in the form of a cliché shoulder check as she rounded the corner. She made a point to dust off the area that had touched you, and her scoff of 'Watch it freak.' made a snort leave your nose, god you loved the 90s, even the bullying was better.

Considering she was still amongst the living, you gathered this was before the start of the movie, fantastic. You pushed forward, far too wrapped up in your building excitement to pay any mind to the very dangerous man you'd caught the sight of.

You found your first class a few minutes early, thankfully the school's layout wasn't too hard to navigate, you were intent on taking proper inventory and prepping as well as you could. The teacher took you in with a surprised noise, clearly judging your character on your appearance.

You'd gotten pretty good at handling your, particular situation, so good in fact you'd begun to relax a little. Taking a seat by the window in the back felt very final girl of you, the thought making you giggle to yourself. Whatever entity responsible for isekaing you into this movie flashed between a real asshole and a slightly smaller asshole with each reincarnation, this time it looked like they were feeling nice as you started with a weapon.

Your inner workings were put on an abrupt pause as Randy Meeks burst in through the door earning a glare from the otherwise silent teacher. The bright-eyed male made a beeline for you, his expression was akin to a puppy who just had its bone taken away.

"What the Hell San Francisco? I spent the last 15 minutes running around like some mook looking for ya'." he paused to sit down at the desk directly on your right. "You ask a guy to show you around then ditch em'? Cruel, undeniably cruel." You learned pretty quickly to just roll with it whenever someone from Canon spoke to you.

"My bad Meeks, I'll make it up to you." At this, the energetic man rolled his eyes, now leaning even closer. "Oh yeah? Meaning what- you'll actually take me up on my offer instead of responding with that cold familiar brand of cynicism? C'mon, it'll be funnnn." He trailed off in a whine. "Whoever told you begging was an option for you lied." You laughed, shaking your head at the way he visibly deflated.

You kicked your faded black Converse all star's on the back of the seat before you, legs bouncing as you allowed yourself to ponder your answer, the nervous habit had developed sometime between this movie, and one of your earlier incarnations and subsequent deaths.

This was a little more complicated, see the omnipotent fuck who put you here liked to screw with you, very much into the concept of seeing you mix with whatever plot that laid before you, so much so that anytime you fought against whatever scenario you were thrust into in any way you died horribly. The first time you'd been plopped into a movie was the original My Bloody Valentine,- a chill ran through your body like a punch to the gut at the thought, yeah you'd come a long way since then in terms of working the system but nothing was set in stone.

You figured whatever this offer from Randy was, would no doubt tie you into the plot, knowing better than to fight the waves, you pretended to think about it before shrugging. "Sure. I'll bite." The simple statement had him shooting out of his chair to fist pump before quickly falling back in his seat.

"Yessss-okay it's super easy, I spend my time rewinding the utter garbage the general population consumes on a daily." He was practically buzzing in his seat as he spoke. "Once in a while, the boss leaves for an extra long lunch break and I get to watch whatever I want- Child's Play, Halloween, Nightmare on Elm Street- you name it I got it." The redhead spoke proudly, leaning back against his chair with a self-satisfied look.

"You should be a salesman Meeks." The male bristled beside you, a tinge of red on his cheeks. "Yeah yeah, whatever Frisco- don't come crying to me when you don't have anyone to sit with at lunch." He teased, leaning over his desk, you smile toying with the ring on your hand, popping your neck with a sigh you took a second before responding, "Oh god, how will I ever survive sitting alone, whatever will I do." you spoke in a dead tone making the male at your side pout.

"You're cold (L/n), couldn't even pretend to care about my threat huh?"

You looked over with a teasing grin, "Course' not- I'm not a liar Randy.", it was then and only then that you noticed the tall Blonde unashamedly staring you down from the door.

Stu Macher had made his appearance earlier than expected but you didn't sweat it, or the almost hungry look he was giving you. Nope, not sweating at all. Instead, you quickly averted your eyes, praying he hadn't caught your stare.

He had, naturally.

The taller male nearly took up the entire door frame, he looked a lot more intimidating in person. The playful look on his face was all the more haunting the more you thought about who he really was underneath it. What he was hours away from doing.

Randy, feeling the sudden rise in tension, refused to be left out, and tried to not so subtly block Stu's vision of you by standing up and not so casually sitting on his desk, his back to the future killer. "Anyway Frisco', I don't want you mixin' in with the wrong crowd okay?" He made a point to flick his eyes back towards the now pouting blonde, "Bad company makes for bad times. Just stick with me I'll show you the ropes." He made sure to mutter that last part, his expression drenched in fear for the briefest moment.

Before you could respond Stu had rather aggressively climbed his way over a few desks to plop into the seat in front of you.

His dimpled grin was rather infectious.

"Now that's no way to talk about your friends Randy." He almost seethed out his name making the shorter male curl in on himself like a rabbit, he turned to face you with flare.

"Hi, there hot stuff- Stu Macher, bad company." He took your hand in his much larger one, completely enveloping your own, the tension was broken by the comical handshake, how hard he shook it up and down dispelled all previous bad vibes, his devious little grin only grew at your response, "Hi Stu, I'm (Y/n). Worse company."

"So whatcha' running from in San Francisco? Girl's like you don't just show up outta nowhere for no reason." He didn't even try to hide the way he was checking you out, his half-lidded eyes eagerly drinking in every inch of the alluring stranger before him.

"Who says I'm running big guy? I might be the one doing the chasing." Maybe teasing a soon-to-be serial killer wasn't the smartest move, but you just couldn't help it, he leaned his head into his palm, the wide toothy grin promising nothing but trouble. "I think I like you- come sit with us at lunch."

"You askin' or telling?" You met his heated gaze with a cold indifference that only fueled the ever-growing fire burning in his belly. The larger male quickly fell to his knees from his seat on the chair, bringing his hands together in a dramatic motion, "Pretty pretty please hot new kid come sit with meee." The laugh tumbling past your lips was real, you quickly ushered him back to his seat, "As nice as ya look on your knees- this is embarrassing please get the hell up I'll sit with you."

He backed off with a victorious grin not knowing you'd just lied through your teeth, there was no way in hell you'd willingly put yourself in Billy's cross hairs, Stu was unavoidable apparently, but Billy? You'd hold out as long as you could, when lunch rolled around you managed to convince Randy to eat on the roof, and used the friendly conversation to get more information out of him.

It was during this conversation you discovered in this world, whoever you were, was Randy's new neighbor.

After the school bell had rung for the final time, you made a point to linger around Randy, usually, when you spawned in one of these things the plot was well into swing, but this time you were here early, and the change in routine felt all the more dangerous.

Thankfully, Randy came to your rescue, you tuned back into the conversation just in time to hear him say,

"-if you even want to that is- we'd mostly be watching the classics." He finished nervously glancing to and from, you managed to space back just in time to greet him with a half smile and a shrug. "Lead the way, Meeks."

"It's so cool how you live next door- when you told me at first I thought you were yankin' my chain." He said bouncing his way down the road.

Randy had stumbled home with sleep in his eye sometime around midnight, you weren't too worried for the guy as you knew they hadn't started their spree yet.

That was until the phone rang.

For a moment all you did was stare. You knew who was on the other end it just didn't make any sense.

Swallowing the thick ice cube of fear suddenly in your throat, you caught your breath as casually as you could.

As if on autopilot your hand scooped up the house phone, you surprised yourself with how calm your greeting was.

"Hello?.."

"Hey there sweet thing- you're up awful late aren't ya?" You tried to look as casual as you could, steadily making your way to every door, and securing each entrance, but it was hard to ignore the twinge of accusation in his tone.

"You're up too.." Was what you managed to get out, trying to keep your voice steady.

"Hm, that's fair. What were you up to? Have some fun with your boyfriend?" The last word sounded harder than the rest, with no humor in his tone, almost as if it was said through gritted teeth, like whoever spoke it spat the word out.

So he was definitely watching you, your mind racked with the best answer to keep Randy from harm's way.

"Just watching some scary movies with a friend- you like em'?" You asked leaning against the island in your kitchen. "Oh, honey- you've got no idea." Before you could respond he continued, "I will see you later gorgeous." and then he was gone

#yananswers #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere male #yandere slashers #yandere slasher x reader #yandere ghostface #ghostface x reader #yandere billy loomis #yandere stu macher #yandere ghostface x reader #poly ghostface x reader #poly ghost face #kiss the goat

865 notes · View notes

madschiavelique · 4 months

Text

˖𓍯. 𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐂𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐬. ★. ₊ ⭑

⟢﹒ pairing : matt murdock x audhd!reader x frank castle

⟢﹒ summary : your family is an ordeal to endure, full of disparaging remarks that make for a horrible evening. fortunately, Matt and Frank come to keep you company during the family diner and take you home to look after you.

⟢﹒ content warnings : hurt/comfort, extremely self-indulgent, reader's family are degrading, audhd reader close to breaking down, reader having sensory issues, reader getting overstimulated, the guys in this are so lovable and sweet boyfriends, afab!reader, no use of Y/N

⟢﹒ word count : 9,3k

⟢﹒ note : had quite a shitty christmas ngl, so i thought writing this piece of comfort would be helpful ! if you only want to read the comfort part, i'll place a separation by using a black divider between the hurt and comfort part. a huge thank you to my bestie @sunflowersandsapphires who proofread this <3. have a good read lovelies!

You passed a q-tip close to your eyes in the hope of correcting the curve of your make-up, trying with that scatterbrained perfectionism that accompanied you in even the most minute tasks to ensure that everything was symmetrical.

Nothing too extravagant, just something elegant, neutral, but that would do. The standard was just to look presentable, from the face to the rest of the body. Jeans, an oversized hoodie, nothing special.

This lack of personal distinction was undoubtedly due to the rejection of perception, the insistent stares, the embarrassing compliments that could suddenly put you in the spotlight tonight, an idea that made you feel profoundly uneasy.

You stepped back a little, checking to see if the much-desired symmetry had been achieved, and no sooner had you put down your utensil than you were asked to do the little cousins' make-up.

Tonight was an annual family reunion: Christmas, where aunts, uncles, grandparents and grandchildren got together over foie gras, salmon and dubious discussions. Where guests who have just left are criticised, where disparaging remarks are exchanged, and where the meal always ends up drifting into politics with more or less heated debates at the table.

You anticipated the evening, an anxious knot already forming in your stomach. You had a particular link with your family, of which the affection was strangely displayed if at all in a way you despised entirely. Every year was a different pain, a different bitter taste that lingered in your thoughts like poison, and you were not delighted to participate in this celebration when you would’ve preferred staying home.

Only one thing held you in place and convinced you that the night wouldn't be a constant and unrelenting hell: Matt and Frank were coming over.

This winter, it was the first time you would’ve been accompanied by them, and by anyone in fact. Knowing the rather strong opinions of your family, the simple idea of saying that you shared your life with two men in a more than platonic way had been dismissed a long time ago. A trouple? If that fell in the ears of one of your family members, you could be sure that you'd become the next freak of the night.

So you talked it over with the boys and came up with a plan to make sure you could bring them both along and not make a big deal of it: one of them would pretend to be your boyfriend, while the other would just be your friend that had nothing better to do for the celebration.

The choice of boyfriend fell on Frank, and friend on Matt.

He had asked why, and you had explained that it was obviously in no way because of favouritism or anything of the sort, but rather the simple fact that he would get more compliments behind his back if he wasn't with you than if he was.

He'd frowned, but you'd had to explain to them how your family was sometimes built on clusters of shrill gossip, talking behind others' backs and later making remarks to their faces in tones of passive aggressiveness and wicked irony.

You also had to educate them, that no matter what was said about you tonight, not to react. They'd probably be itching to, it would be like a thread sticking out, but they were forbidden to pull on it.

You looked at the clock, seven past. You'd texted Frank to ask where they were and when they'd arrive. Eight thirty had been their reply, and you took a deep breath. An hour and a half to go.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, assuring yourself everything was alright and that you were presentable enough. You can do it, you kept telling yourself, this night knows an end.

The first complications arose sooner than you thought.

First of all, you'd managed to find a decent seat in an armchair and not on a sofa. However, this seat was very close to the fireplace, where a blazing fire licked the brown logs with appetite. Very close, too close, close enough that it felt suffocating.

You moved your chair back slightly as best you could, trying not to disturb the conversation that was already well underway.

You tried to take a few snacks, perhaps some cashews, crackers or cherry tomatoes might ease your boredom and distract you from the growing heat.

You pulled out your phone, hoping that Frank and Matt would get here sooner, and would've sent a message to that effect. Or perhaps was there a notification from any of your friends, a reel, a meme, anything-

"Put your phone away, we're with the family."

You looked up, your mother watching you and taking her glass in hand with a look of dissatisfaction. In a single instant, your cheeks heat up all the more as the fire in the fireplace presses against your skin, and you gulped.

"I just wanted to check if I had any news about Matt and Frank's drive," you explained simply, gently stuffing the phone into your pocket.

"They'll arrive when they arrive, but for now, be with us."

You nodded, discreetly biting your cheek as one of your only escapes for tonight went up in smoke. You would have much preferred to be able to escape a little and block out what was going on around you, even sorting out your gallery and deleting useless pictures would have been a more pleasant and less stressful activity.

But you couldn't, and you said nothing when it was your mother's turn to pick up her own phone and connect to the speaker to play her Christmas playlist.

The children played together, which should’ve been a joy, but their overexcited screams, incessant movements and all that noise were enough to make you feel the headache setting in.

There were easily three different conversations going on around you, and your mother turned up the music in response. You waved, putting your hand in front of you as if you were lazily dribbling an invisible ball to indicate her to lower the volume, and she turned the music down a notch.

You clenched your jaw, thinking to yourself that this was a good start, even if everything else was getting harder to hold on to.

Choosing to wear a hoodie became almost a regret as the ambient heat from the fireplace worked its way up your spine to the nape of your neck, creating an unpleasant feeling. Soon enough, you had to take it all off as the first signs of nausea began to make themselves felt.

You weren't particularly comfortable with the idea, but everyone's attention was obviously diverted enough to take no notice of your actions. Except perhaps for one.

"You could have made an effort on your outfit, it's not very festive." Your mother sighed before taking a sip from her glass of champagne. "Hadn't you lost weight? It would be a shame to spoil the occasion."

You swallowed, the ground looking awfully interesting at this very moment. You knew what would have been said to you if you'd worn something more in the spirit of it, "You've got a nice body, you should wear that more often," and other remarks falling into the famous "you should insert-disobliging-action more often" category.

You should wear that more often. You should smile more often. You should come more often. But none of these requests were of the taste to be fulfilled by you tonight.

So you simply shrugged, having nothing in particular to say, and feeling your heart clench. You were stuck in this contradictory place where if you made one move slightly changing from your usual self to them, you were reprimanded on it, but if you didn’t do anything in particular, they highlighted the fact that it was disappointing you hadn’t done anything.

"Well, we're delighted to have you with us tonight!" chuckled an uncle, raising his glass to you.

"It sure makes a change from knowing she's in her cave," chuckles an aunt.

You smile, but there's no warmth behind the gesture. By cave, they mean your bedroom. Your habit of isolating yourself had brought you a certain reputation within your family, and for years now it has been a recurring joke. They laughed about it every time, but you saw it more as a broken record replaying the same snippet of music... speaking of which, your mother turned up the sound again, thinking you wouldn't notice.

"Could you turn it down please? It's really loud." you ask politely, in the most calm, composed and polite tone you could produce at the moment.

"Oh come on," your mother grumbles, rolling her eyes, "we're allowed to have fun."

She turned up the volume once more, and finally someone other than you told her it was too loud. Reluctantly, she lowered the sound slightly, but it was still not enough for you. Your hands lodge over your ears, hoping with all your heart that this would ease the strain on your eardrums.

Conversations sought to drown out the music, each member pushing their voice for any discussion. Kids were still running around, chasing one another by screaming at each other, and adjusting your eyes on anything without the certainty of getting a headache felt like mission impossible.

Your hands on your ears helped slightly, and it was only then that your mother looked at you with a surprised expression.

"Does it really hurt?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Yes," you nodded, "it really does."

Finally, she turned it down, and you exhaled as the others resumed a more appropriate though still higher volume of discussion than you'd prefer. The kids had been changed of room, making it more bearable for you to live through.

"So, what have you been up to lately?" asks one of your grandparents, "how's work?"

Your cheeks heat up, the discussion now turned towards you, prompting you to take your glass in hand just to have something to quench your throat suddenly arid as the sahara.

"Very well, business is good." you smiled falsely, forcing your face to display the features they might normally expect to see.

"Great, and those two guests coming tonight, do you know them from work?"

How could you say that the circumstances in which you had met these two men were in a situation that included Frank and Matt falling into your flat, bloodied, and asking you for help?

Karen, who you’d known through college, had advised them of your address, and when the first opportunity came up, they had taken the chance to make the most exceptional introduction you'd ever had in your life : stumbling at your place with cuts all around

"In a way, yes," you replied, pressing your lips into a thin line.

"One of them's her boyfriend, and the other's a lawyer," your mother informed the others, who seemed delighted by your seemingly noble company.

It's a good thing the flames in the fireplace were dying down and that it wasn't so hot anymore, because both your cheeks felt like you were resting the back of your hand on hot embers. It was a never-ending embarrassment to have such behaviour around you, saying aloud everything regarding you without you consenting to any information to be given. Wherever ridiculous actions or the slightest subject that was even a little new and out of their boredom-inducing daily lives occurred, they swarmed.

Nevertheless, the conversation drifted away to your delight, and at the mention of your loves, you couldn't stop thinking about them. You would have liked to check the time, to see if they had any problems on the way that might have delayed them, but you knew that such conduct was likely to earn you an additional remark about the use of your telephone. After all, she could find openings as easily as water in a colander.

Just then, a dance song began to play which, objectively, had nothing to do with the Christmas spirit. So everyone stood up, moving the chairs to get more room, and you helped in this cacophony of moved furniture.

You stood to one side as everyone got to the centre of the room, their dance steps resembling a veritable collective epileptic seizure of which you had no desire to become another member.

You took the opportunity to take refuge in the bathroom, carefully closing the door behind you and sitting down on the toilet to take a deep breath. The after-effects of all these mixed sensations were beginning to make themselves known.

Your body was as taut as a bowstring, as if every muscle had contracted from a high fall, and it felt as if releasing all the tension would break you in thousands of small pieces. Your heart wasn't beating particularly fast, but it was beating hard, and you couldn't ignore it.

You took a deep breath, letting your head fall back as you closed your eyes. Your throat and chest were tight, so tight that you felt like crying right now. But you couldn't, it would be too noticeable once you got out of here, and you didn't want to give them the pleasure of having an extra subject to talk about at the end of the evening once you'd gone. It would do them too much honour, and you couldn't afford to give them any.

You were so tired, you couldn't take it any more, the fatigue coursing through your body like you'd run a marathon of shame. You breathed in again, feeling your previously tight chest slowly relax as your body was jolting a bit from the unease.

This wouldn't last forever. By the end of the evening, after dessert, you wouldn't be in this house surrounded by all these people, all these eyes, all these mouths, all this noise.

That's when your phone buzzed, and without missing a beat, you pulled it out of your pocket. On the screen was a single message from Frank that gave you tremendous reassurance:

We're here.

You bit your lip, nodding slowly. One last breath for courage and you stood up, opening the door of the bathroom. Without anyone noticing, you grabbed your hoodie and stepped outside into the cool of the night.

The sudden chill brought you unparalleled comfort, biting your cheeks hot with frustration and embarrassment. Perhaps the night would heal you, that its cool caress would apply its balm of softness to all that pressure and relieve you of your tension.

You turned your key ring to find the one for the gate a little further on, trying to walk and not sprint to it. Inserting the key almost frantically but controlling your excitement and relief at their presence, you opened the game.

And there they were, smiling at you.

"Evening sweetheart," Frank smiled when he saw you.

"Sorry we took so long," Matt apologised, pressing his lips together.

You looked behind you to make sure no one had followed you outside, closing the gate slightly so that you wouldn't be seen. You knew that even from here, your group of three could be seen as a pile of meat around which the vultures would circle, and you didn't want to risk being their next meal.

You hugged them both, relieved to have them close to you, and the suddenness and desperation in your gesture almost seemed to surprise them. They hugged you back, kissing your temple.

"Your cheeks are warm," Frank chuckled, pressing his face harder against yours, making you giggle.

"Is everything okay?" asked Matt, stroking your hair, "you're all tense."

Of course, Matt noticing every microscopic detail as usual, couldn't help but pick up on how stiff your body looked, and how the smell of stress covered your skin in the thinnest film. There was no point in lying to Matt, or pretending to divert the subject with Frank, so you sighed.

"Lots of noise, not much serenity," you replied, letting your head fall against the devil's chest.

You were trying to cherish all this a little more, because once you were back in the house, you and Matt wouldn't be able to touch each other again except perhaps to pass a plate across the table and let your fingers deliberately brush against each other.

They'd already been told by you what to expect, and even if they were prepared, they were sorry to find you like this.

"We won't stay here the whole night," Matt reassures as he wraps his arms around you, stroking your back. "Let's hope we get out of here before Frank goes so far as to take the silverware from the table and threaten anyone with the butter knife."

"You're ruining my fun, Red. Now I've got to find something more inventive," sighed the latter.

"Take the star at the top of the pine tree, it'll be sharp enough," you suggested, turning your head towards him, cheek still pressed against Matt's chest.

"See that, that's Christmas spirit," smiled Frank.

You loosened your embrace, Matt gently kissing your lips. He savoured the moment, and so did you, because this kind of proximity with him wasn't going to happen again for several hours.

"Ready?" asked Frank, letting his pointer finger form a hook to caress the skin of your cheek.

You looked at the lights further away from the house, hearing the music from here and already preparing in the second part of the night.

"Ready," you breathed in before reopening the gate and letting them through.

You felt your heart clench again, the unpleasant tingle of anxiety coursing through your veins in a fluid traffic that seemed impossible to dilute. You tried to breathe calmly, preparing yourself once again to face the suffocating interior of sounds, movements and remarks.

"Remember, if you need to take a break from all this and go outside, squeeze my hand three times, okay sweetheart ?" reminded Frank, placing his hand on the small of your back.

"Yeah," you swallowed, nodding softly as a tight little smile spread across your lips.

You'd agreed to pretend, in case things got desperate and you needed a break, that Frank was a smoker, and that you and Matt shared his ciggy break together.

All of this preparation had come from the fact your mother had passed an entire questioning about your boyfriend - or at least one of them - to prepare herself conventionally. You knew how she was, and such coaching with the guys was for the better.

Still, his hand on your back was reassuring, and made things easier to bear.

You opened the door, and everyone turned to you with a big "Ah" of satisfaction. Introductions were made as both took off their jackets. Frank remained friendly but guarded - as usual, typical Frank - and Matt seemed to bloom in this social environment like a freshly blossomed flower.

It didn't take long for most of your family to decide that they loved Matt. His well-timed humour, his natural charm, his eloquence, everything about him made him a man to be admired.

"Isn't there any way he could be your boyfriend instead?" said an aunt, approaching you as Matt and Frank continued to be introduced.

"He's way out of her league," sneered another, "they both are, actually."

You pressed your lips together, blowing falsely from your nose to feign amusement. You knew Matt could hear every little jab at you tonight, and if he was feeling any frustration, he was hiding it perfectly.

"Where did you get them? I want one too," said the first, making the other laugh.

"Might get the lawyer's phone number," she replied.

"Yours is very fine too," remarked the other, "how'd you manage to get him ?"

They both said these sentences as if their own husbands weren't in the room, and as if the possibility of you being in a relationship with one of them was a miracle, or just a huge stroke of luck.

"Through work," you replied mechanically and through clenched teeth before moving into the kitchen to help with the dishes.

You knew these sorts of remarks were to be brought up, on how you’d managed to surround yourself so well. Matt and Frank had long wondered how your confidence in yourself was so low, but maybe tonight would’ve been the perfect example as to why it was the case.

The transition to the table was almost seamless. Everyone sat down, the seating order meticulously adapted for everyone. Fortunately, you found yourself between Frank and Matt. You were inwardly grateful for the choice of decorations when you realised that the tablecloth was quite long, and that the reassuring hand Matt had just put on your thigh wouldn't be noticeable.

You breathed softly, the warmth of his hand anchoring you better in all of this and giving you something to focus on that was sweeter than any mean remarks.

Of course, with every new person around the table comes an interrogation to get to know them. Questions of all kinds followed for the boys, about their work, their activities, your aunts of course looking for answers as to how you and Frank had ended up together.

You'd worked it out and decided that Matt had introduced you to Frank and that, through your shared tastes in literature and other things, you'd ended up bonding.

"If books are the new way to getting to a man I've got some reading to do," joked one of the aunts, making the table laugh unanimously, "never thought you'd manage anything of the sort."

The pique directed at you made you feel as if you were swallowing a large ice cube with difficulty, but you covered your discomfort with an expert fake smile. Masking all that discomfort since the start of the evening was beginning to prove complicated, but you weren't going to use the smoking-break Joker just yet.

You could see in the corners of your eyes how Matt was wearing a stiff smile, and how Frank's jaw was tense. Gently reaching under the table, you took both their hands, turning to Frank with another smile that this time wasn't imbued with the polite mask you wore, but with sincerity.

"Let's just say I was lucky " to have found two such extraordinary people who fill my life with love on a daily basis, would you have finished.

You squeezed their hands, drawing small circles on their skins as they both smiled.

The starter was over, the main course continued as your stomach was refusing to let you eat anything, and the whole thing brought together discussions that made you uncomfortable to say the least. All sorts of unconscious or simply cruel racist, homophobic and even transphobic remarks were placed on the table.

You remained silent, not speaking particularly. You had no desire to take part in this kind of discussion, given how horrible the venom on each other's tongues was. You just hoped it would all be over soon, looking forward to going home with Frank and Matt.

The cousins were chatting away like fascists, one talking about Napoleon, and the old days being the best, while talking about the questionable politicians he was listening to on the radio.

The cheese arrived, and then came the little break just before dessert. They put on a film for the children, so that the adults could have a quiet chat without all the heckling.

Hearing the parents' arse jokes, you'd think they'd be fucking each other on the table if they thought it was funny. You could very well let your own sassy tongue out, say that if this aunt isn't listening to what's being said already it's because she's working out her next gossip, but you have to forgive her because she wouldn't be like this if her husband wasn't cheating on her, or maybe he's cheating on her because she's like this.

To tell the uncles that they're less likely to die from terrorism than from alcoholism, to tell one aunt to strap the kids up tight because her husband is going to be driving as if he had an autonomous car. And that you would’ve liked to finish by saying that no matter the smiles, the village fete, all it took was a small difference for everyone to see the real faces.

But you said nothing, keeping to yourself those comments that would only serve to fuel their hatred.

As Frank came up to grab another drink, your mother sat next to you on the sofa while the two boys came to be monopolised by aunts and uncles. A procession of rednecks near Frank discussing his familiarity with weapons and his military past, while the aunts were wiggling around Matt hoping to curry favour with the young lawyer.

"It's too hot in here," you murmured as you shifted a little from your mother, but she wasn't letting go and placed her head on your shoulder.

"But I want to be close to you," she said with a pout, the alcohol making her visibly affectionate.

You tensed, the desire to get away from it all running through your body, screaming under your skin. But there was nothing you could do, frozen there in the middle of it all, having to endure the situation as best you could.

The familial conversation drifted onto the subject of intellectuality, on the fact that your family was made up of nothing else, or at least for the most part. And you felt tiny, because they were generally right: they were all huge readers of the classics, who knew a lot about history, literature, philosophy and other human sciences.

All these subjects were familiar to you, because you had had to learn them, to master them in the face of the global family demand for the cultivation of excellence.

Even though you were the ugly duckling of the family, that didn't stop you sharing this knowledge and they were all aware of it. You were able to inject the conversation with valid arguments and insights you'd learned on your own that were important to the topic, and whenever the occasion to say something wise came up that you grasped, they seemed more tolerable to you.

When the discussion turned to the descendants of a painter, you were asked to verify the accuracy of certain statements. So you looked it up on your phone, but barely half a minute later, your mother couldn't resist reprimanding you:

"What did I tell you on your phone? Not when we're with the family."

Irritation from all the previous events of the evening was beginning to press down on you, and it was with some irritation that you replied:

"But I've been asked for some information."

Your voice was almost like that of a child defending themselves against someone calling them a liar, and this tone seemed to displease her when her gaze hardened.

"Don't talk to me like that, and put your phone away."

You bit the inside of your cheek so hard it felt like it was going to bleed, and said nothing as you put your phone back in your pocket while the conversation around you resumed.

You didn't meet Frank's gaze, nor did you turn to Matt, because you knew that this simple gesture would show weakness and a cry for help. However, you had made them swear not to interfere, and you remained silent for a while, trying to calm yourself down as you watched the fire ripple in the fireplace like an orange veil dancing in the wind while you fiddled with your fingers.

The tic was automatic; Matt and Frank would have preferred to have taken your hand in theirs to prevent this torment.

What irritated you most of all was the profound injustice of the whole evening. You wouldn’t say anything, and you’d be considered too silent so people would ask you questions, but once you opened your mouth they were not satisfied with your answers. You couldn’t take your own phone, when all the aunts had their own, texting to their friends and all. Children had the right to get away in another room and watch a movie, while you had to stick there doing nothing but listening to whatever was said.

You couldn’t wait for the night to come to an end.

It was time to store the presents everywhere and pretend to the children that Santa had stopped by while they were watching the movie. Everything was placed in colourful piles, and when the children were called, they ran down the stairs and began the frantic tearing of gift wrap to an orchestra of shrieks and shredding.

All the accumulated sounds made you grit your teeth, tightening your throat and making you want to cry. You could feel the limit coming, and you needed a break to prevent you from imploding.

This time you took Frank's hand and squeezed it three times. He turned to you immediately, stroking your cheek before telling Matt. As quickly as they could without looking rushed, they put on their jackets and went out after you.

The night air calmed some part of you instantly, the contrast between all the hectic ambiance inside and the calmness of the outside felt like two extreme opposite worlds living by the only separation of a door.

To make sure that even from the outside there would be no doubt about this cover, Frank had to play along by taking out a cigarette and lighting it. He seemed irritated, and the idea of that Joker card almost seemed to play a real asset in all this to calm him down.

"How the fuck do they sleep at night?" he grumbles as he puffs out his first drag, "it's like they take every opportunity they get to pull you down."

"It's alright, let it slide." you sigh, crossing your arms over your chest.

"No it's not," he continues, "I can't believe you managed to handle their company for all these years."

"Didn't have much of a choice," you breathe.

"I know you said it was bad, I just didn't imagine it was constantly so," Matt confirmed.

"If I go back there I might actually punch them in the face," Frank grumbles before taking another drag on the cigarette.

"All that's left is the presents from the adults, then the Yule log, and then we'll be off, okay?" reassured Matt, placing his hand gently on your shoulder.

The touch of his hand brought a comforting warmth, and his words managed to reassure you. You looked at them both, thinking about how it would’ve been without them : unbearable, definitely. You had barely been able to handle it before they came, but now that they were here, you felt safe, like half of the poison that was thrown at you was not as effective.

They had changed you, made you feel loved, cherished, proud. They had been trying to break these patterns, the self depreciation, the self sabotage, the lack of self confidence. They were helping you build yourself back up from the ruins everyone else had left, and you were the most grateful to the universe to had brought them in your life.

"Thank you both, for being here," you admitted, your voice almost cracking, the coolness of the night giving you a feeling of security that was enough to relax your knotted throat.

They turned towards you, their faces softening. They knew what you were going through, what you were enduring for the night, and how complicated and unpleasant it must have been until they arrived.

Frank took you in his arms, the smell of tobacco already permeating his clothes. Matt must not have been enjoying it at all, smelling that darkly sugary, smoky smell all around him, but whatever personal discomfort he was experiencing he didn't let it show.

"It's the least we can do, beautiful," he replied, stroking your back.

"We just wish we could shut their mouths," Matt agreed, holding back from participating in the embrace as you’d instructed him.

"And stop this whole group of women from praising you?" sneered Frank, which made you smile.

Matt's nose scrunched up and his bottom lip curled in disgust at the remark.

"One of them wanted to feed me appetisers, and another asked me about being blind and whether I'd mind being in a relationship with someone whose looks I can't see." he said with a sigh.

"And then?" asked Frank curiously as you both turned to face the lawyer.

"I told her that I didn't need to see to know who was good-looking, and that if I chose my relationships purely on looks, I wouldn't know true friendship or love."

"All those poetic words must have pleased her," Frank punctuated with a whistle.

"Not until I told her my grandmother wore the same perfume as her."

You and Frank both laughed softly, truly impressed at how Matt was handling all this flirting and cringe from several women altogether.

But this calm moment had to have an end, as the cigarette grew smaller and smaller by the minute. Frank broke away from your embrace to finish it and stubbed it out on the wall.

This little outing had done you a world of good. The cool night air had refreshed you, its delicate silence giving you a break from all the noise and the terrible comments from your family all the while Frank and Matt allowed you this break from constant barbs.

You returned again inside, the end of the opening of presents for the children welcoming you. And so the opening of those for the adults began, all the parcels being stored on the table in more chic and sober wrappings. The grandparents started, Frank standing behind you with one hand on your shoulder and the other holding his glass of champagne.

One by one, they all opened their presents, until it was your turn. Embarrassment gripped your body as all eyes were on you, and you dreaded the opening simply by being watched with boredom mixed with curiosity - to see how you might react and make the slightest faux pas.

You went about it slowly, wishing to unpack properly and not act like a barbarian tearing everything apart at once. Your aunt beside you imitated a yawn at the fact that you were making them wait, and everyone laughed, a tense little smile nailed to your cheeks.

What you got in the end wasn't too bad, nor too far from what you could appreciate, surprisingly. Of course, you had to force yourself to smile at most of the useless gifts that gave you absolutely no pleasure, but you thanked everyone, and the presentation of gifts moved on to the next ones.

"Didn't you get her anything?" your mother asked the boys.

"Her presents are at my place," Frank informed her.

The sentence made your heart spike up, a sudden warmth colouring your chest in pink softness as the sparkles of it brought the tingling sensation of tears at the corners of your eyes. Presents, they had gotten you presents.

You were not going to cry, of course not, but the lump formed in your throat gave you enough of a hard time that you had to grab your drink and sip on it.

"Speaking of your place, have you looked at the traffic to get home?" questioned Matt, "I don't think I want to take too long."

"I'll have a look," he said, taking his hand off your shoulder to pick up his phone.

You wondered if Matt had had enough, if his own senses had been overwhelmed by all of this and he was pondering on going home. But then realised what they were doing : feigning traffic disruption in order to get home early and save yourself a lot of awful time.

"I think we're going to have to go," Frank nodded as he put his phone away. "Sweetheart? Ready?" he asked, bending over so that his chest pressed against your back.

"Yes," you said as you took a big breath and stood up, saying goodbye to the whole family.

You dreaded the hugs, the kisses on the cheeks or simply the fact of pressing them together and imitating the sound of what should have been a fake smooch, but with a surge of tiredness you objected to this using the excuse of " time is running out".

In no time at all, Matt and Frank had gathered up all your things and were carrying them, heading for the entrance hall to collect theirs.

In less time than it takes to say it, you were finally outside, walking up to the gate. You felt as if your lungs were being squeezed as you went along, almost expecting to feel a rope being pulled tight inside you to tie you to the house, for someone to come out and catch you or whatever. You felt almost like a gnat trying to escape from the spider's web in which it had been stuck a little too long.

You stuck the key in the lock of the gate, turned it hastily, then opened it to let them go with you, closing the big opaque metal door with that step. The pressure hadn't gone away from your body yet, every limb feeling like it was made of thick, rough foam where multiple needles had pierced you in the many crevices they'd already left and were digging even deeper.

You looked for the car in the hope of getting to it as quickly as possible, but you let out a little squeal of surprise when your feet flew off the ground as Frank swept you up in his arms like a princess.

"Ain't no way you're gonna walk, you've had enough exhaustion for the night," he said, tightening his grip on your back and the back of your knees.

"But-" you began reflexively, although the idea of giving up this position didn't bring you any comfort.

"Ah ah," he stopped, "don't wanna hear about it." If he had his two hands free and was being childish, he would have put them over his ears, singing la la la and pretending not to hear anything.

But his hands were firmly under you, giving you all the security you could have dreamed of and the beginnings of a comfort that would last all evening until you'd sleep.

"Circus night is over," Matt huffed, taking a deep breath, "I think I've heard enough nonsense for one year."

"Lucky for you, next one's less than a week away," sneered Frank.

"I'd rather lose a second sense than inflict this on myself and our angel a second time," the demon replied as he grabbed the car keys from Frank's pocket and opened it.

He opened one of the rear doors, letting Frank gently place you in and strap you in place, placing a kiss on your forehead as he stepped aside to let Matt pass and place the few bags in the boot.

Matt sat down beside you, and you let your head fall on his shoulder. You felt the tingles of anxiety under your skin lodge in your legs and squeeze your chest, the rush to get out of here weighing heavily on your head.

Frank sat in the front seat, turning the car key and making it purr, then drove off.

As the car rounded the corner, all the tension began to dissipate and you let the breath you'd been holding in escape from your chest. Your whole body felt heavy, your hands gloved with marble, your legs booted with lead and your head stuffed with cotton.

You felt the softness of Matt's lips as he placed a kiss on your forehead, his hand coming to rest on your thigh as you hummed under the sweetness of his comfort.

"It's all over now," he said, resting his chin on your head, "we're going to take care of you."

You snuggle up to him, your hand coming to rest on his as you breathe softly. Your fingers drew soft, formless patterns on the back of his hand, fighting the fatigue that had fallen on you like an anvil.

The moment was sweet, Matt's warmth through his clothes spreading close to you as you turned his hand onto his back to gently trace the lines from his palm up to his callused fingers.

"I'd have to get rid of some of them," grunted Frank, who clearly hadn't yet calmed his frustration, "I'm sure they'd be much better off in an asylum."

"It's an insane asylum, not an asshole asylum," Matt remarked, "you'd have to build asshole asylums but... you can imagine the size of the buildings."

"Yeah, still, maybe I should have burnt my cigarette on one of their cars."

"What a nice Christmas present," chuckled Matt.

"I can be generous sometimes," confirmed Frank.

"Especially when you threaten people," you agreed.

"A pittance," Matt snickered, "Is that one of my sweaters by the way ?

"Yes," you sigh, "I'll have you know it's been criticised tonight."

"Really? By whom."

"I'll let you guess."

"A bit bold coming from someone dressed like Norman Bates who dresses like his mother," Frank grumbled.

You laughed softly, a sort of little venting session taking place in the car like a debriefing following a bizarre situation.

"With all those women around, Red's charm knows no bounds," laughed Frank, "you've caught the eye of one in particular it seems."

"My aunt? She's suffering from too much oestrogen. If you're interested, I can put you in touch," you grinned.

" I'd rather sleep on cotton sheets." grunts Matt as his hand grabs your thigh and squeezes a little tighter, letting a small chirp of amusement escape from between your lips.

The ride continued, and your stomach went all hollow, grumbling with displeasure at the emptiness you'd left it.

"Didn't eat much, did you ?" asked Matt softly.

"Barely touched her plate," confirmed Frank at the front.

"Didn't feel like it," you murmured.

"Is there anything you'd like when you get home?" proposed the demon, interlacing his fingers with yours.

"Something sweet," you hummed, adjusting your chin to rest it on his shoulder.

"Anything else?"

"Two pairs of arms around me," you smiled.

They both grinned, and the ride went by in a flash. You untied yourself once you'd arrived, stretching slightly as you shifted to open the door beside you, but Matt's hand from your thigh came to grab your hip and pull you back to him in a gesture that seemed immensely easy.

You turned to face him, confused for a moment, as he kissed your cheek.

"No walking, remember?" he smiled as Frank opened his car door to come towards yours.

You sigh, shaking your head slightly as you roll your eyes. They were overdoing it, but you weren't going to stop them.

"Come here princess," Frank said as he pulled your hips towards him to take you in his arms again.

You wrapped your hands around the back of his nape, nestling your face in his neck and smelling his subtle cologne on his warm skin.

Matt took the bags and went ahead to open the door for you. The familiar smell of your real home seemed to wash all your worries from your body as you took a simple breath.

The bags were deposited in the hallway, Frank walking over to the sofa to set you down.

"Stay right there and don't move," he informed, hands on either side of you as he kissed you softly.

"What happens if I move ?" you asked, placing one of your hands on his arms.

"I'll tie you up like a pretty present," he chuckled as he kissed you again, "the most perfect present we'd ever have."

"Is that a threat or a promise?" you teased, your foreheads pressed together.

"It's a statement," he concluded.

He straightened up, and you were already missing his presence near you, but you respected his request - or rather his order - and remained seated on the sofa. Your head fell back, your body moulding itself to the shape of the couch under the effect of the evening's emotional turmoil. The tension drained away more and more, relaxing your tired muscles and making you yawn.

It wasn't long before Matt and Frank returned with more casual outfits and packages in their hands. You straightened up, bending your knees on the sofa about to get up, but remembering the fact that walking wasn't a possibility, you explained:

"I've got some for you too, am I allowed to go and get them?"

"For us?" said a surprised Frank, pointing at himself as if there was some mistake.

"You mean the packages under the first step of the stairs?" questioned Matt, "I thought those were packages you forgot about for the others."

"No, these are for you," you confirmed as you sat back down on your knees on the sofa.

They stood like that, one blinking repeatedly while the other kept his lips parted.

"You really didn't have to-" Matt began, but you stopped him immediately.

"Tsk tsk, if I don't have the right to stand up, you don't have the right to stop me from giving you presents."

"But-" resumed Frank.

"Ah ah," you smiled in the same tone he'd given you earlier, "don't wanna hear about it."

He parted his lips in a smile but said nothing as Matt laughed softly to the side. They approached you, Frank placing the packages on the coffee table as Matt turned away.

"I'll get them," he eventually says, heading for the top step, cracking it open and pulling out three packages to take back to the coffee table.

"The medium one is for you," you say, pushing the first one towards Frank, "and the big and small one are for you," the two boxes sliding across the smooth table towards Matt.

The packets seemed a particularly complex conundrum to them, but you urged them to open their presents.

Matt opened his and discovered a 7kg weighted blanket and an anti-stress ring that could be twirled on his finger.

"I know you sometimes ask me or Frank to lie on top of you because the weight makes you feel better, so I got you this, which should help if neither of us is ever there to give you what you want. As for the ring, I know that times at the Court can be stressful, so I thought it might help you find a point of anchorage."

Matt seemed at a loss for words, taking the duvet between his fingers and touching the silk sheet you'd wrapped it in. Putting the ring on his index finger, which fit perfectly, he smiled to himself.

As for Frank, he removed the wrapping and his lips parted.

"I've been looking for these for months," he said, looking at the few books he'd been talking about over and over again. "How did you... ?"

You'd scoured countless bookshops, searched book repositories, researched the clearance of certain titles by libraries to find these books that had all but disappeared very quickly while the work was being republished and retranslated.

"A good girlfriend never reveals her secrets," you smiled.

The two of them placed their gifts on the table and came to embrace you, nestling their faces in the crooks of your neck. They held you close, gently kissing your skin between hushed "thank you's", dotting your neck and face with soft pecks.

"What did we do to deserve you," Frank murmured, pulling back slightly.

"I could ask the same about you both," you smiled, running your fingers through their hair.

They kissed you again, then handed you their own gift. You opened it, and it was something you'd talked about several times before, something that was very close to your heart and that they'd decided to give you. This time it was your turn to hug them, and they laughed as you showered their faces with kisses.

"What do you say to a nice bath, and then some dessert before bed?" offered Matt.

"I think that's the best idea of the evening," you confirmed, caressing his cheek and kissing his nose.

Without further ado, Frank took you in his arms like a koala, letting your legs cross behind him as you pressed your cheek against his shoulder. He led you and Matt into the bathroom, the devil bending over the tub to prepare the bath.

Frank lifted you slightly and sat you down on the wash basin counter, letting his hands fall on both your thighs and stroking them gently.

"As much as I love your makeup, we're gonna have to remove it sweetheart", he explained, kissing your cheek.

So mechanically, you grabbed your make-up remover, ready to start the process. But Frank stopped you in your tracks, gently taking the bottle in one hand and a cotton pad in the other.

He poured a small amount onto the white disc, dosing as you did regularly.

"Close your pretty eyes for me," he murmured, taking your chin between his fingers and starting to remove your make-up.

Frank had this charming habit, in the evenings when you were getting ready for bed and he wasn't out playing vigilante, of watching you remove your make-up. He knew a lot about your day by the way you went about it: slow and thoughtful was the result of a good day, faster and more jerky obviously reflected one full of frustration, and sometimes when your movements were slow and your eyes half-closed, it generally meant that the day had been very, very long.

He concentrated, pressing tenderly against your skin as he removed iridescent, matte and mascara from your eyelids, occasionally pausing to kiss your lips, making you smile and giggle softly with each peck.

You almost wanted to put lipstick on his lips and let him kiss your whole face until the red of your cheeks was indistinguishable from the colour of the lipstick.

He asked you to look up this time to clear away the mascara smears and the black marks left in their path. He was doing this with the utmost precision, and this personal attention sent tickles all the way to the back of your skull.

"Look at me?" he asked and you complied, a smirk forming on his lips. "The prettiest girl."

He came over and placed a strand of hair behind your ear before stepping aside to throw away the little cotton disc.

"I'm gonna go and check what snacks we have, Red? I'll leave you my favourite part, but only because it's christmas alright?" he informed before kissing the tip of your nose one last time and stepping out of the bathroom.

Matt, so far checking the temperature of the bath water to make sure it was correct, shook off his damp fingers and wiped them on a towel before standing up and moving between your legs.

"I'll have you stand up just for a bit," he cautioned, taking your hands and pulling you slightly towards him to get you to your feet. "Arms up."

At his request, you raised your arms. His hands pinched the bottom of your hoodie and pulled it up your body. He laid it to one side, continuing with your t-shirt, his fingers still warm from the water sliding delicately against your skin.

"So that's Frank's favourite part?" you smiled, "undressing me?

"I have to say it is," he stated as he unbuttoned your trousers and panties, sliding them to the floor where you lifted your feet to get out of them.

"And what's your favourite part?" you asked as he took off your socks and raised up to your level.

"The one that's about to happen."

He guided you to the bath and let you slide in gently. The temperature was perfect, just as you liked it, and you let out a moan of ease from between your lips until most of your body was submerged in the bath.

Matt took a stool from the bathroom and placed it beside you, taking a cup at the same time to pour water over your hair. He applied himself with great care, taking his time to make sure no drops got into your eyes.

Your muscles relaxed naturally with the heat, finally eradicating the tension in your body once and for all.

You felt Matt's fingers dip into the bath water, sliding up from the skin of your thigh and gently up your body, tracing your silhouette under the water.

"You're beautiful," he whispers as his wet fingers rose from the water to caress your cheek.

"How could you know?" you asked softly, watching as he stared into the emptiness.

"My hands don't lie to me, and I know the beauty of the mind at first sight of the heart" he smiled as he took your bottle of shampoo, pouring some into his palm before massaging your head.

To help him, you straightened up, pivoting slightly to get your back to him. His fingers snaked through your hair, massaging gently and lathering everything up slowly. He worked the back of your neck, muscles tense, letting your head go with the movement of his hands.

With your neck now leaning back, Matt smiled gently before kissing your forehead.

"That's my favourite part," he confirmed, resuming the massage.

You let your eyes close, surrendering to the gentleness of the moment and Matt's touch. He was pressing, caressing, painting with his fingers as if he were holding the most beautiful and delicate material in his hands.

Too soon for your liking - because you would have preferred this moment to have no end - he rinsed your hair, letting the white mousse spread over your shoulders and applying it lightly to your skin. He took the sponge, soaking it in shower gel before squeezing it into a foam so that he could spread the bubbly cloud over your skin.

He took one of your arms, raising it so that he could get it straight and soap you up properly, and he kissed the length of your skin before the softness of his kisses was erased by the little soap bubbles that the sponge left in its wake. He did the same for your second arm, and your leg, and the second after that, covering your whole body with kisses and softness.

At first you thought it was unfair, because no sooner had he placed a kiss on your skin than he wiped it away with white foam. But you were soon comforted by the idea that these weren't kisses being chased away, but kisses being kept, kisses that seeped under your skin and brought you all the warmth that the bath was beginning to no longer contain.

Before the water got too cold, he gently rinsed you off and got you out of the tub, wrapping you in your bathrobe.

Frank came back into the bathroom at last, bringing clean, more comfortable clothes in his hands. They both took their time drying your hair and dressing you, whispering sweet nothings to you as they kissed your cheeks and temples.

Each kiss washed away the stress you'd been feeling, replacing bitterness with sweetness, and you relished every moment of it.

Once again they carried you in their arms to the sofa, where Frank had placed a plethora of foodstuffs of all kinds on the table, snacks and other sweet products that you might have wanted at the time.

You watched several episodes of a series that you'd been watching together lately, commenting on it and falsely - or actually - taking offence at the particularly stupid choices made by the main characters.

You didn't need any more than that. All the love in the world was with them.

They had taught you how one hand changes when you put it on top of another, that another world is possible but is present in this one, that there is always a dream asleep.

They were standing on your eyelids, and their hair was in yours, they were engulfed in your shadow. Their eyes were always open, they wouldn't let you sleep, their kisses in the light made the sun evaporate.

Back pressed against the chest of one, face hidden in the nape of the other's neck, tonight you fell asleep, fulfilled, safe and loved.

279 notes · View notes

undiscovered-horizon · 10 months

Text

"Embroidery" - Kaz Brekker x Reader

SUMMARY: Gloves are important to Kaz - it's the only way he can relatively safely interact with the outside world. They are also slightly more privileged than you as they can accompany him anytime and anywhere. To aid this inequality, you stitch a white primrose onto one of his gloves: Someone waits for you to come back.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 1.2k

>>Grishaverse-inspired playlist<<

☽ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ☾

There was something wicked in your patient anticipation for this moment like a predator that seems to have all the time in the world while waiting for the prey to breathe its final breath. But contrary to a pouncing lion, you had to remain inconspicuous until your plan has been brought to life. That shouldn’t come as a surprise - Kaz Brekker is a lot more wary than a dying gazelle.

You’re used to Kaz being somewhat restless and uneasy but today he’s jumpy. Usually, when he comes to visit you at your home, he allows you to come incredibly close to him and he doesn’t shy away from touching you. This time, however, something’s wrong. Unintentionally, he’s holding one of his hands away from his body - the same way one does upon cutting their finger. Hanging his coat and hat, he’s using mostly only one of his hands as though he did hurt himself earlier that day. Then, when you reach out to help him, Kaz suddenly flinches away from you.

With eyebrows knitted close together, you’re watching his bizarre act. Over the time you’ve known him, he’s come to you bloodied and beaten but never… averse. That’s when you notice the tiniest detail that, truthfully, you’ve been waiting to appear but maybe without this whole strange change in his demeanour: his left glove is pierced through, revealing pasty skin underneath.

“There's a hole in your glove,” you state. You’ve imagined this very scene so many times, you simply have to play your part perfectly in spite of the excitement bubbling in your chest.

Kaz gives you a quick glance but it's enough for you to notice the nervousness and uneasiness in his eyes. He’s clearly on edge, barely clinging to sanity. “I’m aware,” he answers in a shaky voice.

“Let me fix it for you.”

“I can do this myself, thank you.”

“Come on, I can tell you’ve been through a lot already. When was the last time you ate? Or slept?”

Kaz clenches his jaw. Reluctantly, he takes off his left glove and hands it to you. In a vain effort to appear a lot more laid-back than he truly is, he puts his bare palm into the pocket of his pants.

“It’ll be over before you know it.”

You disappear around the corner, leaving him to his own devices. Without anything better to do, too restless and shaken up, Kaz just sits down on the edge of the sofa. He rests his elbows on his knees and places his chin atop his fists, staring into the corridor you have just disappeared in.

After a moment, his eyes begin to wander around the living room. What caught his eye the first time he came here is the amount of knick-knacks gathering dust. Windowsill, table, mantlepiece, windowed cupboards - items he’s never seen moved or used. For the longest time he couldn’t understand why you’d leave this clutter around but the better he’s got to know you, the more he understood. All of those useless things are like postcards sent by the people you care about: ‘Life goes on and maybe we don’t talk as much as we used to but I’m thinking about you’. There was a time when Kaz felt envious of the knick-knacks as their immovable character is to your life like a scar is to skin. But then he realized his position is much better. He’s here, after all. His presence in your life can not be limited to a porcelain doll or a cross-stitch of the port in Os Kervo. Kaz is not a scar but more a knife that’s still slicing open a wound. Maybe he’s even more than that - maybe he’s a blade piercing and penetrating your body. And the only way to live is to leave the knife in to stop the bleeding, despite the pain it brings.

Thinking about knives and porcelain dolls, he doesn’t notice you come back at first. Only when you speak up does he shake away from his slightly macabre thoughts:

“I fixed your glove.”

In a strangely panicked manner, Kaz almost snatches back his garment. He’s quickly putting in on and when he turns his wrist to examine your sewing, his breath hitches in his throat.

He recognizes the flower almost immediately. The white and yellow petals make him remember a painting he’s seen somewhere, although Kaz can’t be sure where exactly but that doesn’t matter. What he is certain of, however, is the scenery presented on the canvas: an army marching out of Os Alta. Women run after men in uniforms, shoving white primroses in their hands. Silently, they beg the Saints, generals and kings to let their husbands, fathers and sons return home safely. Maybe a frail flower is nowhere near enough to protect a soldier from a Fjerdan or a Shu Han highlander but it’s the only thing they can do for the men they love so desperately.

“A little silly, I know,” you interrupt the tense silence. “I just wanted you to have something to remind you of me.”

What a stupid thought, that he could ever forget you.

Kaz clears his throat. “Thank you,” he answers slightly awkwardly. He wants to say something meaningful to you, make it known that not only does he understand your thoughtful gesture but he also shares the sentiment: ‘As long as you’ll have me, I’ll always come back. Even if I have to cross the world tenfold or fight death itself,’ he wishes to say, ‘The days I spent without you are mere existence, not living.’ Nonetheless, Kaz can’t force words of vulnerability past his lips.

For a moment he thinks a shadow of disappointment dances across your beautiful face. It pains him, even if untrue. If only he could make his doting known…

“Anytime,” you say casually with a slight shrug of shoulders.

Time seems to slow down significantly as he’s watching you smile softly at him and promptly leave the room, heading to the kitchen to make tea. If he could, he’d spend entire days just watching you calmly go about your life. Sometimes, when he’s staring at you doing mundane things, he swears he can almost figure out why he’s so drawn towards you as though his downfall began with the way you hold the bread knife or carefully stir your coffee. One day he’ll know how come you’ve tied and bonded his very soul to you, he’s sure of it.

He looks down at the glove again. The small, white flower makes his chest sting. Maybe there is, after all, a way for him to show you his devotion without using words.

If Kaz Brekker was a better man, he’d think of the white primrose as a reminder to be careful and wary, to choose his battles wisely. Alas, he’s nothing short of a crook and the flower begs him to be callous and merciless, to become feral and willing to do absolutely anything to find his way back to you; like raging seas that relentlessly wash tall cliffs until the soil gives in and landslide falls into the deep, dark abyss.

He can’t be a lighthouse so he settles for a wildfire.

#kaz brekker fanfiction #kaz brekker fanfic #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker x you #shadow and bone fanfiction #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone #shadow and bone fanfic #six of crows imagine #six of crows x reader #six of crows fanfiction #six of crows fanfic #six of crows #shadow and bone x you #six of crows x you

641 notes · View notes

snoozepotato · 1 year

Text

We’ll Be Fine -1- (Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x f!Reader)

Disclaimer: I do NOT own the original source material or any of its characters.

A/N: I apologize in advance for any grammatical errors I missed, characters may be a lil ooc because I just love big men being soft! Ghost brain rot since 2009🔥💀🔥 I AM SORRY!

she/her pronouns

Congratulations, I have gifted you a younger brother for this story!

Category: slice of life, slow burn, mutual pining

Warnings: swearing, eye contact, mild shenanigans

Masterlist

Summary: You arrive at base to pick up your brother, he does a terrible job at introducing you to his friends.

Part 1

~Kiddos~

Standing near the entrance to the facility you thoughtlessly bounced back and forth on the balls of your feet, an outlet for your slowly growing anxiety. ‘Technically’ you're a government employee, it’s complicated... Despite that being here leaves you feeling uneasy, most places like this still do.

After an extended deployment overseas your brother had finally returned home, and you had promised to cook him dinner. So here you are, waiting for him to make an appearance in front of the military base he currently calls home. It's been a dreary day but the dense clouds are parting, making way for a steady building sunset.

‘At least it’s not TOO cold,’ you suppose, allowing a false relief to wash over you. You were never very good at dressing for the weather, which comes with the ‘indoor person’ territory you radiated. What you lacked in physical prowess you made up for in technical abilities, at least that's what you tell yourself.

A brisk wind suddenly strikes your back, the thin sweatshirt just barely enough to stop nature's oncoming assault. Stuffing your hands into the front pocket, you fumble with your keys in an attempt to keep distracted.

‘Should have just waited in the car,’ brooding, you roll your eyes before catching sight of a group heading outside.

Curious eyes scanning the lot of them as they exit the building, spotting your brother's large figure somehow dwarfed by the hulking men beside him… Suddenly feeling very small.

Your eyes lock momentarily with a stranger's murky stare, deep brown orbs stricken gold by the fading rays of light. Dark grease paint smudging out the skin left exposed by his balaclava.

‘That's different,’ your thoughts halt, shoulders stiffening involuntarily realizing you're just staring at this man who you don't know. Quickly averting your gaze, attention shifting to greet your brothers steadily approaching figure.

Large hands grasped your forearms before pulling you into a crushing hug. Wrapping your arms around him stiffly, you let out a breathy laugh.

“This is my older sister, and I’m off to have a home-cooked meal,” he declares, snatching the keys from your hand and making a dash for the car. Abandoning you on the sidewalk.

“Debug,” you correct and turn to leave, attempting to place the now empty appendage back into your pocket but are stopped mid-motion.

Another lad seems to materialize in front of you, your small hand now clasped in his much larger one. Looking up you take him in for a moment, gray eyes cast in the warm light of the evening sun. Brown hair cropped into a short Mohawk, and a handsome stubbled jaw.

“Hello, lass, call me Soap,” The Scotsman gushes, your hand still loosely resting in his grasp. He shoots you a wicked smile resonating with a boyish charm.

Stony facade you'd been maintaining cracking in the slightest, gaze softening before retracting your hand. You turn, giving them a curt wave, a gentle smile. Enough socializing for one day!

“Bye kiddos,” Words stumble awkwardly out of your mouth before promptly following after your brother, who is waving you down from the now-open driver's side window. Mentally cursing yourself for being such a colossal dork…

“Kiddos,” Soap repeats blankly.

Having rushed off immediately after Soap's introduction, Ghost can’t help but wonder if they scared her… If he scared her.

They watch as she reaches for the passenger side door, car abruptly lurching backward leaving the handle just out of her reach. Very much unamused she is left standing there with a blank expression, arms slack.

Taunting laughter can be heard across the lot as the action is repeated twice more before she is finally allowed to enter the vehicle.

“Fuckin wanker,” Ghost irks scrutinizing the juvenile interaction.

“Feel kinda bad for her,” Soap chuckles

Thanks for reading <3

447 notes · View notes

hungryhungryhannibalhimbo · 3 months

Text

The fever had broken and it wasn’t the only thing. There was a sore readiness swelling in Will’s limbs. He was beyond done with bed rest. He ached to have hot flesh under his fingertips again, the blood drenched cotton of an under shirt, a cut he could rub salt into.

How long had it been since his becoming? Since the slaying of the dragon? Since he finally saw? He couldn’t be certain. He’d been slipping in and out of consciousness, the frigid water of his cliff side baptism shuddering his lungs, the places where Dolarhyde had penetrated him leaving him fever slicked and groggy. Somewhere around a week, maybe.

They were somewhere in Lithuania, Chiyoh’s doing no doubt. The air smelled different there, chlorophyll verdant and familiar, a thicket of greenery deeper in Hannibal’s mind than Will would ever get to sink to. It was a teasing scent. He relished in it.

Will had seen Chiyoh’s face when he’d first come to on a boat somewhere off the Atlantic where he’d thrown them. Some conscious bit of him processed surprise that she bothered to pull him out along with Hannibal, but now that he was less water logged, he figured she wouldn’t want to upset her childhood friend by leaving him for dead.

She’d come into Will’s room to clean his wounds, change his bandages, take his temperature, the like. Hannibal came more often but Will appreciated when it was Chiyoh instead. She was colder yes, never speaking to him, rougher with her movements, no tenderness there. He didn't need tenderness if it wasn't from Hannibal. And he knew Chiyoh was there so Hannibal wouldn’t be, that she’d promised to care for Will to ensure the man cared for himself. Will appreciated that. As fun as it had been to watch Hannibal be taken down by a bullet, it would be no fun at all if it kept him that way.

There was too much nervous energy built up, too much adrenaline, too strong a craving to kill and consummate again. Will had to get out of the bed. Sharp pains and dull aches nipped at him as he pulled himself to his feet, grew reaccustomed to standing but he ignored the little bites and wandered toward the mirror in the room.

It was dark in this place they were staying, middle of the night it seemed, and Will was caught off guard by how he looked in his reflection. He was slightly gaunt. He’d struggled to keep food down throughout the week, and his eyes looked all black cast under the shadow of his brows. His features seemed sharper in the moonlight, more wicked than they were supposed to be, but this sight was familiar to Will.

The pounding he’d felt all week in his skull as he recovered came back with a violence and he could so easily picture the velvety sharpness of antlers pushing through his skin, out his scalp, brushing past the curls on his head to form a silhouette. The shadowy figure looking back at Will in the mirror was the stagman. It might have been pain induced derangement, but Will had never felt so stunning.

He wandered out into the hallway, footsteps heavy and slow after all the turbulence and tiredness of recent events. Something in the echoes and creaks of this old house told him where to go, a bloodhound after prey. It wasn't the old Lecter estate, no this was somewhere else. But still something of Hannibal breathed in the walls and swallowed Will full, Jonah in the belly of the whale where he belonged.

He came across a door, heard his heartbeat better as he turned the knob. Hannibal lay in a bed on the other side. Moonlight shone through the bedroom window and cast around him like a halo, made the hair on his head glow silver. He was breathtaking. Will stood there in the doorway to enjoy the sight, crossroads still more comfortable than catharsis.

"You shouldn't be out of bed yet. Your body needs more time to heal." Hannibal's accent was thicker with sleep and it churned something primal in Will's gut.

"I felt antsy."

"You need to lay back down, Will. Go," the authority in Hannibal's voice was compelling but the coldness made Will uneasy.

"You're upset I pushed us off, aren't you?"

There was a sigh. "Go back to bed, Will."

"I'm sorry."

The air was still. They didn't say sorry. This wasn't right.

Hannibal turned under the covers to face Will, his eyes still closed. "For every leap of faith, there is a prayer. What were you praying for when you leapt?"

Will swallowed. There was a knot in his throat, the same kind that forms when a child knows they've done something wrong. When they are anticipating their punishment. "I wasn't praying. I was curious what would happen."

Hannibal let out a sardonic breath, a wry sort of chuckle. "Curiosity killed the cat."

"But Chiyoh brought it back."

Hannibal's lip quirked with amusement but it was still too cool. "What did you think would happen?"

"I figured God would stop us. Or he wouldn't."

Hannibal's eyes finally opened and he stared into Will. "Are you satisfied with his choice?"

"I'm emboldened by it. I gave Him a chance to bring us down and now I want to make him regret his mercy." Will did his best to match Hannibal's gaze. He wanted to carve this vow into him so he would believe it forever.

Hannibal looked away. "God doesn't have mercy. We are proof of that. Now go back to bed, Will."

This wasn't acceptable. The pounding in Will's head, the ache to touch skin and press into it with steel or teeth, the pain eating away at parts of him Dolarhyde touched in an exchange that had set Will's mind on fire so hot everyone must smell the smoke. It was all too much. And now Hannibal was rebuffing him? Ignoring the blaze he'd sparked?

Some scarred piece of Will cut through, a doubt that bled profusely. Maybe he's done with you now. Maybe his love for you hinged on the chase. Now that it's over, maybe you've lost him. He wanted to kill this piece of himself. He wanted to kill a lot of things these days. He crossed the threshold into the bedroom, charged toward Hannibal and crawled under the covers next to him.

Hannibal did not immediately respond. He just watched Will pensively, thoughts bursting through soil and blooming behind his eyes like ghost orchids.

Will tucked himself in, facing him across the pillows. "Satisfied."

Hannibal smirked, cupping the side of Will's face in his hand and running the pad of his thumb across the stitches in his cheek. "Is this you emboldened, Will? Is this God's doing?"

Will wrapped his arms around him and pulled them closer, rubbing his nose against Hannibal's in an eskimo kiss and letting their lips trace each other faintly. "I think I'm your doing, Doctor Lecter."

"No, my cunning boy," Hannibal trailed his fingers through the curls in Will's hair. "You were my undoing, and I'll never forgive you for it."

He pressed their lips together and Will breathed him in with anguish and ferocity, finally tasting the man who tore his life apart and set him free. He whimpered when Hannibal pulled back again.

"Forgiveness allows you to move on. I never want you to leave me behind again."

Hannibal scoffed. "We're cut far too deep in each other for that now."

#hungryhungryhimbo original #writing #nbc hannibal #hannibal lecter #will graham #hannigram #post fall #post fall hannigram

55 notes · View notes

ozarkthedog · 2 years

Text

𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭 · 𝐋𝐥𝐨𝐲𝐝 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧

summary: lloyd offers solace if you make it through the maze. “but if I catch you...” his eyes darken with a ravenous glint, “your body is fair game.”

warnings: lloyd hansen x fem!reader. basement wife. chase kink. prey/predator behavior. rough and nasty everything cause it’s lloyd. threats/taunts. oral sex. slight spit play. anal play. penetration with a knife handle. cream pie. sex in a hedge maze. soft!lloyd. slight aftercare. no beta.

word count: 3570

author’s note: this is one of my fav kinks ever. i hope you all love this as much as i do. 💙gif credit: @lilacevans

☽ 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ♁ 𝐎𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞'𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 ☾

“But I stayed on the grounds!” You argue, fists clenching at your sides.

Lloyd spins on his feet and stalks towards you. Subtle rage furrows his brow as he walks you back into one of the elegantly designed walls. He leans a hand against the wall, high over your head pressing his much larger body into yours, and sighs through his nose.

“Let’s compromise shall we?” He offers with a wicked smile. “You make it to the end of the maze and I won’t punish you. I’ll even tell the guys to back off the next time you want to go for a walk.”

Your eyes glimmer with hope until his head cocks to the side. He leers down at you like a lion with its big paw on struggling prey. “But if I catch you,” his eyes darken with a ravenous glint, “your body is fair game.”

Your stomach drops.

“Come on, it’ll be fun! Plus, you’ll get some of that exercise you were looking for. It’s a win win.” He says boisterously as he clamps an arm around your shoulder.

You look up at him with uneasy eyes.

Lloyd soaks up your worried frown. The thought of chasing you down and claiming you always made his cock swell.

He shuffles the two of you into the foyer. “I’ll give you a head start considering you don’t have shoes on and cause your legs are smaller than mine.” He jests and bops you on the nose.

You dumbly look down at your bare feet and then back up to him with doe eyes.

He raises a pointed finger, “Ah ah- you don’t wanna dig a deeper hole for yourself now, do you?”

Lloyd unlocks one of the massive double doors. “You get 2 minutes, Buttercup.” He waves a hand towards the maze and his playful smirk suddenly drops into a hard line. “Then I’m coming after you. Like I said, fair game.”

You don’t waste a second.

You run out of the foyer and across the courtyard, dashing up the steps to the entry of the hedge maze in a flash. The setting sun illuminates the extravagant yard in a wash of dusky purples and orange hues.

You stand uneasy on the precipice of the giant labyrinth with its green, leafy walls soaring high into the sky. You’d completed the maze once before but it was with Lloyd by your side. He’d lived in the gigantic chateau for years and traversed the winding maze many times so he knew it like the back of his hand.

You bite your lip as you stare into the mossy alley. It wasn’t a good bet that you could beat him at his own game. Countless times he’d set you up to fail and you walked right into his trap.

This didn’t bode well for you.

“I’d get moving. Tick tock!” Lloyd’s voice bellows across the yard. You stare back at him as he leans cooly against the immaculate doorway biding his time.

You grit your teeth and take one last look at the stoic man before gathering your white, flowy dress in your palms and sprinting into the verdant maze.

Shades of pine and juniper whip by in a hurried frenzy as you race one foot in front of the other.

You take a left and then a right as you begin your journey into the winding maze. You remembered the first few turns and that there was a statute pointing to the exit of the maze but the rest was a blur.

Each step is anguish as stones dig into your bare soles. You curse him under your breath as you take a right turn and run past one of the many marble statues that line the corridors.

Lloyd made it clear when you arrived at the Chateau that you were his property. He dressed you only in sheer white dresses and forbid any shoes unless you were going outside. He liked you half nude and barefoot.

You stop short, almost twisting your ankle on the rocks when a sinister voice hollers from behind.

It was Lloyd.

“Time’s up, Sunshine!” He yells from the entryway. “Ready or not, your ass is mine!”

You roll your eyes at him acting like this was some twisted version of a children's game and like your mind and body weren’t on the line.

Pins and needles puncture your lungs as you run fast around each corner. He’s clearly gaining on you as the booming footfalls get closer and closer.

“Buttercup…”

His taunting voice echoes over the hedges. It slithers into your spine and makes you quiver. You force yourself to keep moving despite the constant heckles and the urge to submit.

“Why you runnin’ from me?”

It doesn’t even sound like he’s chasing you, more like he’s stalking you. Waiting for the opportune time to strike.

“You scared of me? Scared of big bad Lloyd?”

Tears prick your eyes every time you turn a corner, imaging he’s laying in wait, ready to take you down and make you pay for your disobedience.

A sharp left and then straight for 5 paces, another sharp left, and then a clearing emerges.

It’s the center of the labyrinth.

You’re halfway to freedom.

“I won’t hurt you!” He yells. His voice is so clear it sounds like he's right next to you. “I’m just gonna fuck you into the ground. Maybe choke you a little. That ain’t too bad!”

You run into the core of the maze as his taunting gets louder. Blood pounds in your ears with every step and your dress clings to your dewy flesh.

A large fountain sits directly in the center with small hedges and shrubs circling it. Dim, yellow hues light the yard while a handful of stone benches and statues fill out the rest of the area.

Your eyes dart around the arena looking for a place to hide as the sound of crunching stone gets closer. You race towards one of the small hedges and dive behind it. Rocks clink when your body hits the ground just as Lloyd turns the corner.

His heavy footfalls cease. It’s deadly silent. Only your heart beat and the splashing water from the fountain burst in your ears.

Your body shakes with primal fear as he stalks around the center of the labyrinth.

“I know you’re here,” Lloyd muses, darkly. “I can smell you.”

You’re core instinctively clenches. Despite the anxiety and adrenaline, your panties are sticking to your cunt. You’re absolutely soaked.

“Oh Buttercup.” He sings melodically. “Come out, come out wherever you are.”

Your fingers dig nervously into the rocks. You eye one of the various exits out of the center and wonder if you can make a run for it.

“Listen, I'll do my best to not go too hard on you.” He says with a chuckle as he dips a finger into the water testing the temp. “Who am I kidding? I can’t do soft. Unless it’s soft serve Mint Chocolate Chip. M’mm M’m! That shit’s delicious!”

You catch the whimper in your throat before it escapes. Your heart pumps frantically in your chest and you scream at yourself to run as the sounds of crunching stones get closer.

Then the crunching stops.

Your eyes whip open just in time to see a dark, massive shadow gliding over the uneven stones and smothering your own.

“Here’s Lloyd!” He yells, manically next to your head.

You shriek and shove a hard elbow up and back landing a solid hit to his nose. A jarring crunch and a painful grunt echo into the dusky sky.

“GOD DAMNIT!” Lloyd stamps his foot, hollering in pain.

You narrowly escape his clutches as you jump to your feet and race out of the clearing. Bile rises in your throat knowing the monster is not far behind. White billows behind you, dancing chaotically as you sprint for your life down a random corridor.

Your mind spins and your chest heaves but you continue to run as you hear him closing in.

“I applaud you, Buttercup. I really do.” He praises you while stalking close behind. “Never thought you had it in you.” Lloyd sounds partially impressed by your display of strength. “But you’re gonna pay for that little outburst.”

You hiccup in fear and race down another stretch of green, running until your heart feels like it’s about to burst through your ribcage.

After a few more turns, you stop. You listen for any sign of Lloyd but all you hear are the chirps of crickets. You slump against the greenery and take a deep breath before peering down the corridor in front of you.

Elated tears spring to your eyes when you gaze upon the exit to the maze. Not more than 20 feet straight ahead, stands a glorious marble statue pointing the way to freedom.

Your body lights with newfound energy and you hightail it towards the opening despite your bruised feet and seared lungs. Your eyesight is a blurry, watery mess of green and stone as you run with all your might.

With all the adrenaline coursing through your veins, you couldn’t help but laugh. You did it. You beat the bastard at his own game.

The fear starts to die down when abruptly your world flips–

“Caught ya!”

A hand ensnares your dress and your body whiplashes in slow motion. Your fingers graze the open air of the exit before he tosses you to the ground.

The wind knocks from your lungs. You sputter and cough as you reach toward the exit with desperate hands.

“Oh I’m sorry, did I step on your moment?” He sneers before grasping your feet and dragging you across the rocks to his feet.

You hastily dig your fingers into the rocks and scream, wildly kicking your feet as Lloyd laughs madly. “I’ve got you now, my pretty!” Lloyd quips.

He dodges your flailing limbs as he yanks you into his ferocious hold and tears your dress up the side. He tosses it to the ground leaving you bare and gasping.

“We can do this the hard way,” Lloyd wiggles his bruised nose and sniffs some fallen blood, “or we can do this the hard way. Your choice.”

You struggle pitifully as he cages your wrists and jars your body with a rough shake. Your head whips to the right unexpectedly and your cheek explodes with a bright flash of pain as Lloyd stuns your frantic movements with a pop.

You catch a glimpse of his sweaty, tousled hair and bloody features and your fight or flight instinct kicks in. You’d never seen him so feral before and it made your belly cramp with submission and insatiable arousal.

He presses a strong hand to your throat and you whimper. Your eyes fall to his heaving chest as you blubber out an apology.

“Uh uh, it’s too late for that.” He shakes his head, strands of hair fall and grazes his temple. “You don’t get to back out now. Especially not after busting up my face.”

He shoves you to the ground by your throat. Your knees hit the gravel and the shock makes your mouth whip open in pain. Lloyd uses it to his advantage and shoves two thick fingers past your lips making drool slip from the corners of your mouth.

“Awe is my pretty baby already foaming at the mouth for my cock?” Lloyd purrs as he takes out his heavy length. “Did you miss me as much as I missed you?”

He gives it a long tug from weeping tip to veiny bottom before smacking it against your cheek and smearing precum along your jaw. “I gotta say you put up a good chase.” he praises while slowly dry humping the side of your face. “Made me fuckin’ rock hard.”

The fingers in your mouth tip your head back and keep your lips stretched as he stands over you like a child tormenting an ant. Your body quakes under his feral stare, making your eyes brim with salty tears and skin prickle with eager anticipation.

“I didn’t think I could get any harder but here you are on your knees, lookin’ all sad that you lost. God damn, I love seein’ those pretty eyes water.”

The shock of it catches you off guard and you heave when he spits directly on your exposed tongue. “Gonna need all the lube you can get.” he says, thumbing the apple of your cheek. “My cock is gonna tear you up.”

His fingers crane your jaw wide and he shoves his bulging cock past your lips. You whine under the intense pressure as your tendons ache from the obscene stretch. His musky brine washes over your tongue as he drives his length in as far as it’ll go.

The fat mushroom head nudges your throat cruelly forcing you to gag sickly around him.

His fingers dig into your scalp as he fucks your face with deep plunges. Spit coats his balls in a shiny layer as they smack against your chin with each punishing shove.

He growls ferociously low as the beast finally stakes its claim. “Gonna make sure you remember this.” His hands encompass your slippery jaw for a tender moment before he pinches your nose closed.

Your eyes bug and you urgently shove at his hips but it was like trying to move a building. He towered over you with such power and strength that it was pointless to fight.

He drives his length in deep, shoving his cock just a bit further down your windpipe, and your bloodshot eyes water profusely. Your chest heaves and your belly revolts, wanting to spew from the unwanted probing.

“You look so pretty like this. On your knees. Knowin’ your place.” He mutters, thumbing at falling tears.

Your fingers dig anxiously into his black trousers as each frightful second ticks by. Your head feels airy and light like it might float away if he didn’t have his cock lodged in your gullet.

“Thatta girl. Get all stupid and weak for me.” He groans at your hazy features when your eyes start to roll backward. The spark in your eyes dims ever so slightly and your body sags.

He rips his cock from your mouth and slaps your cheek with a callous hand shocking you back to life. If he didn’t have a hand locked in your hair you’d have fallen from the impact. “Lookit’ you actin’ all fucked dumb and my cock hasn’t even stretched that cunt yet.”

You mewl and pitifully shove at his hands when he easily manhandles you onto all fours.

He grasps the back of your neck when you start to struggle. One large hand fits almost around the entire column as he tuts at your silly attempts at escape. “Shh shh, we’re just getting to the good part.”

Lloyd presses your face into the cool rocks making your ass stick high in the air as he crouches behind you. “God damn.” You hear him mutter as he stares unabashedly at your cunt. Your pussy clenches under his gaze and drips steadily down your thighs.

“Fuckin’ knew it.” Lloyd chuckles and brushes a finger through your drenched, creamy slit making your hips writhe. “You love this just as much as I do. You’re one sick puppy.” A thick wad of spit hits your pussy and it makes you whine.

Lloyd watches the fluids mix before tapping his swollen, leaky crown against your tight folds. “As I said, I’m gonna tear you up.”

It was your only warning before he drives his solid length into your snug cunt. You scream from the intrusion and burn despite the ample amount of spit and arousal.

“You’re so fuckin’ tight. Feels like you tryin’ to rip my dick off.” He groans.

You fit like a sleeve around his cock as he pummels you into the ground. His hands envelop your hips with a bruising hold, pushing and pulling you on his dick like a little rag doll.

A gluey ring of cream wraps around the thick girth and sticks to his curls as your pleasure mounts.

“No, no.” He sneers and with a rough hand seizes the back of your neck halting your peak.

He drives his cock into the hilt and stills, pressing against your ass with his Adonis belt, and coats every inch of his length in your viscid arousal. “You’re not comin’ until I fuckin’ tell you to.”

You mewl from the painful pleasure as the spongy head of his cock brutally kisses your cervix as he inches his way into your stomach.

He’s so fucking big you could hardly breathe.

Lloyd’s body folds over yours, crushing you into the hard ground as you yelp under the weight. “Think I won’t try and bust through your cervix?” He threatens. His breath is hot against your cheek as his mustache rubs your skin raw. “I’ll fill your insides with my cum until it’s dripping out each and every one of your holes.”

You squall as your ribs grind against the unforgiving stone. He leans over you, twisting your head until you're looking at him out of the corner of your eye. Your sight is blinded for a moment as light glistens off something shiny in his hand.

The cold press of steel against your cheekbone makes you go rigid.

“Oh, damn. That cunt just got fuckin’ tight. Almost made me shoot my load.” He grunts and forces his girth into your channel. “Can’t have that when I just brought the life of the party!”

You’re stock still as he lightly traces the knife down your back. It glides over every notch in your spine as he leans back and slowly watches his cock pump into your devastatingly soaked core.

A warm hand spreads your ass cheeks and showcases his cream stained cock. He taps the knife gently against your puckered hole and you wail.

“Oh, don’t be a baby. You’ll enjoy this.”

You jump when a dollop of spit lands on your ass. “Easy now. No sudden movements if I were you.”

Your breath hitches when you feel something press against your untouched hole. You shake your head in disbelief and mewl with nervous anticipation.

Lloyd hums contentedly to himself as he pushes the handle of the blade carefully into your ass. “What a fuckin’ site.” He gloats and presses until it’s lodged to the hilt.

He slowly thrusts his cock into your searing channel and holds the knife steady, testing the waters until he deems it safe. The ungodly stretch from the uncommon plug burns as he fucks his length deeper with every drive.

“Who knew you’d be such a slut for my knife. It’s fuckin’ you real good ain’t it?” he taunts as he begins moving the smooth handle of the blade in and out of your ass, matching the strokes that claim your cunt.

A horrid gasp falls from your lips as a wave of pleasure suddenly knots in your belly. You clutch a handful of rocks as the cramp grows tighter and tighter. You hastily beg to come as he thrusts steadily into your silken caverns.

He grits his teeth, feeling his own peak at the base of his spine.

“You cum on my knife like a good girl or I keep you plugged with it until tomorrow.” He sternly orders.

The threat tips you over the edge and you come with a shriek around his cock. Lloyd’s hips stutter as your cunt locks around his dick and swirls, milking the come from his balls as the handle of the knife prolongs your pleasure.

A growl rumbles deep in his chest as he fucks his load into your soaked core, filling you to the brim with every drop.

Your body is exhausted. It’s frayed and worn from the adrenaline that slowly withers from your limbs. You go slack in his hold and barely hiss when he eases the handle of the knife from your ass. You’re numb to the elements and from the pain as copious amounts of white drip from your abused folds.

He cradles you in his arms and smooths a hand over your tired features. “I’ll make sure the guys give you some space when you go out for walks, okay?” He says, softly.

You smile weakly and pull him down into a tender kiss. His bristly mustache tickles your upper lip and you push him away with a chuckle.

“What do you say I draw you a warm bath and we eat dinner and dessert in bed.” he offers, while effortlessly picking you up bridal style.

“That sounds lovely.” You purr, combing your fingers through his messy, damp strands as he walks towards the exit.

“Good. Now let’s get the fuck out of here. I’ve got a serious craving for some Mint Chocolate Chip.”

WHO WANTS TO MAKE THIS MAN ANGRY?? I DOOO 🙋🏻‍♀️🙋🏻‍♀️🙋🏻‍♀️

#lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x you #chris evans #the gray man

1K notes · View notes

raven-at-the-writing-desk · 5 months

Text

"And he shall smite the wicked and plunge them into the fiery pit.”

Aaaand we've finally come to the conclusion of Rollo at the Writing Desk! (The masterlist for it will go up later.) If your ask was not answered, it was likely too similar to another interaction and/or was submitted outside of the allotted blog event period 😅 Here's a little piece to "wrap up" Rollo's hellish stay with us at NRC~

The End of Rollo at the Writing Desk.

At the end of his stay, Rollo was more frazzled than Raven had ever seen him.

Of course, he wouldn’t dare to outwardly present disheveled. Certainly not what he could control at least.

Not a hair out of place, and not a single crease in his elegant robes. However, there was an unmistakeable disturbed look in his eyes. Palpable fear and revulsion, as if he had witnessed things he shouldn’t have and failed to scrub his mind of the memories.

“… Is everything okay?” Raven asked, her question a loud whisper in the crystalline Mirror Chamber. The words reflected off of the dark faces of many mirrors, coming back as a soft wail. Okay—okay—okay, came the echo from the unknown.

“Yes.” His reply was prompt, automatic, and without frills. “You needn’t waste your concern on me.”

“… Right.”

Raven turned away and to the Mirror of Darkness. It floated upon its dais, a ghostly apparition of magic.

“O Dark Mirror, I beseech you! Return this soul to where it belongs: Noble Bell College in the City of Flowers.”

Upon her request, the surface of the mirror ripple like water. Some indescribable magic was reaching out across space, tugging on the thread that would connect this place and that. When the rings upon the water faded into smoothness and gave way to a faint image—flying buttresses and stained glass windows illuminated by candles—Raven knew it was ready.

She lifted the hem of her skirt and curtsied to her departing guest as he stepped onto the dais. “Bon voyage, Rollo-senpai. I hope you enjoyed your time with us here at our Night Raven College.”

Enjoyed?

A strong word to assign to his harrowing experiences. Parties swarming with people, offenses committed, confrontations he was not yet ready for.

“I’m like you, and you’re like me,” he had been told, time and time again. Tearing open old wounds, rubbing the salt in for good measure. “We’re not so different, you and I.”

And his brother.

What would he think of him now…?

There it was again, that slow, uneasy pain that filled his chest and fanned outward. The feeling festered like a fire with no one to put it out. Standing before the gateway home, it suddenly hurt more than ever.

Rollo glanced back at his attendant, providing a curt good-bye. “… This is is farewell, Miss Crowley.”

“It’s only farewell ‘for now’,” she corrected him. “We’ll speak again. We’ll meet again. I’m sure of it!!”

In the beginning, he would have scowled at the reminder—at this incessant bird chirping in his ear, insisting on sitting on his shoulder like a cricket claiming to be his conscience. Now, he was tired, and laid there in defeat.

But raise the formal white flag? Concede admit defeat, let her have the last laugh?

Never.

He rested a hand on the mirror frame.

“… I await your next written correspondence. It doesn’t sound like you intend on giving up anytime soon.”

“Nope!!” Raven flashed a grin which showed off her tiny fangs. “I can be stubborn when I want to be.”

A dry, arrogant chuckle. “I am well aware. Then…”

He returned his attention to the mirror, and the world that laid beyond it

“The time is nigh.”

There was no steeling of the soul, no anticipatory breath before taking the plunge. Rollo simply stepped through the portal, and he was gone.

The raven was alone in the Mirror Chamber, smiling into the darkness.

It’s a promise.

#twst #twisted wonderland #Rollo Flamme #twst oc #twisted wonderland oc #Raven Crowley #disney twisted wonderland #Rollo at the Writing Desk

49 notes · View notes

corruptedcaps · 7 months

Text

Jane’s Ascension

Special thanks to @lsat (discord: thedivergence, Twitter: LSAT1886) for generating the images used here that allowed a long time idea of mine to come to life.

It had nearly been a year since Tarzan and Jane had defeated their nemesis, the cruel and power-hungry Queen La. She was a formidable adversary, known for her dark magic and ruthless ambition. Queen La had ruled over a faction of jungle-dwelling followers, seeking dominion over all living creatures. However, her reign of terror had come to an end when Tarzan, Jane and their friends thwarted her wicked plans, banishing her from their realm.

It was only now that they had decided to explore the ruins of La’s once thriving city of Opar. Jane had always been enamored by the mysteries of the jungle. Her days alongside Tarzan, swinging through the treetops and learning the ways of the wild, had filled her heart with love for both the man she adored and the lush, untamed world around her. She begged Tarzan to bring her back to Opar, to explore its secrets now that the once threat was long gone. Tarzan had been hesitant but he couldn’t say no to his love.

“Tarzan this place is amazing isn’t it? Just think of how bustling and vibrant this place once was. It makes me sad that it all ended when La was defeated.” Jane said with a hint of melancholy. Tarzan did not understand her fascination with a place he could sense held great darkness but looking at her he knew that he would do anything for her.

Unbeknownst to both of them, Jane’s words travelled on the air around the ruined city causing the stone walls to creak and the wind to howl. It was as if her words breathed life into the city and it responded by opening a hidden door to a chamber below. Jane and Tarzan looked at each other confused. Tarzan knew Jane would want to investigate but he felt uneasy. Before he could voice his concerns she was already descending into the hidden chamber.

As they descended they saw in awe the full scoot of the chamber. It aas steeped in a chilling aura of both grandeur and malevolence. The walls were adorned with faded murals that depicted the cruel reign of Queen La, showcasing scenes of conquest, subjugation, and dark rituals.

The chamber's ceiling, supported by ornate stone pillars, bore intricate carvings of jungle creatures and twisted vines, as if nature itself had been subjugated by a twisted will. Shafts of eerie, filtered light penetrated the chamber through narrow cracks, casting eerie shadows upon the cold stone floor.

At the center of the chamber, on an obsidian pedestal, rested a necklace. It glimmered with an unholy radiance, its central red gem catching the scarce light and reflecting it in unsettling patterns. Its beauty was mesmerizing. So much so that Jane, who didn’t want for anything in the world, felt immediately compelled to reach out and touch it.

As her fingers barely brushed against the surface of the gem, an otherworldly sensation coursed through her veins. Her eyes widened in surprise and then immediately vacant. She stood like a statue with her index finger barely touching the necklace the entire time.

However Tarzan was quick to notice his paramour was eerily silent and when he saw her transfixed state he jumped into action pulling her away from the necklace. Jane crumbled in his arms unresponsive, seemingly comatose.

“Jane! Jane! Wake up Jane!,” he said urgently. “Hold on, Jane. I won’t let anything happen to you.” Desperation etched his face as he made a painful decision to leave Jane. He knew there were wise shamans living on the far side of the jungle, keepers of ancient knowledge and medicines that might hold the cure for Jane's mysterious ailment. Without delay, he set out on his perilous journey through the dense, untamed wilderness.

Meanwhile, in the solitude of the chamber, in the depths of her coma, Jane found herself walking amongst the buildings and the people of Opar. However this wasn’t the Opar she knew, all empty and ruined. This was a vibrant, alive grand empire. She followed the flow of people to the central hub, the palace. At the center of this opulent building, was a lone woman, beautiful, powerful, strong. It was Queen La like Jane had never seen her. Jane’s hate for all the valuess that La held faded away as she gazed in awe at the magnificent queen astride her throne.

Up until now no one paid Jane any attention, it was if she were a spectre, floating around unseen but one person now saw her. With a smirk and a gesture to come closer, Jane found herself gravitating towards La. Only once she got closer did she notice that the cocoa skinned Queen was positioned in such a way to show off her glistening bare pussy. The sight stopped Jane in her tracks.

“Come closer Jane, pay tribute to your Queen. Taste royalty so you too may ascend.” La said in a purr. Jane was transfixed, almost hypnotized by La’s words as she knelt in front of La and leaned into the monarch’s most prominent care of regions.

Jane’s tongue gingerly touched the top of La’s clit. As soon as it did it was a revelation for the reserved English scholar. The taste was unlike anything she had known before. It was pleasure personified and Jane wanted more.

Placing her hands on La’s smooth thighs, Jane pulled the Queen closer to her face so she could exploring her depths deeper. La let out a soft moan that Jane took to mean she was equally enjoying the experience.

However as both Jane and La were experiencing pleasure like no other, a voice was breaking through to her. It was Tarzan’s. His voice was acting as her conscious, compelling her to wake up, to reject La’s empty promises. His voice sliced through the trance she was experiencing and she pulled herself away from La.

“Wait this isn’t right, this isn’t who I am.” Jane said unsteadily getting to her feet and wiping away the juices from her lips. However with lightning speed La rose and stood behind her, whispering in her ear.

“And who are you exactly Jane? A sidekick to that muscle bound moron? A damsel in distress always waiting on your prince to save you? Aren’t you tired of that?” La purred in her ear as she place her hands on Jane’s hips.

“Wouldn’t you rather be something more capable? More powerful? More feared? Wouldn’t you like that?” La said as she pulled Jane closer to her, their bodies touching from neck to thigh.

Maybe it was fear that kept Jane from moving but maybe it was La’s tempting words that kept her there. Maybe it was La’s soft breath on her nape that caused Jane to forget about Tarzan in that moment. Maybe it was the promise of beauty and power that made Jane whisper, “More than anything!”

Jane closed her eyes as she felt La’s warm embrace around her sink into her skin. She felt La’s very essence be absorbed into her body in a pleasurable slurping sound. She felt her drab and simple clothing become La’s gloriously revealing regal attire. Gold hooped earrings drip from her ears pairing well with think gold bracelets adorning her arms.

Her skin gradually taking on a deeper, exotic tan, reminiscent of the sun-kissed hues of the jungle. But the changes were far more profound than a mere alteration in complexion and clothing. Her body seemed to ripple with newfound vitality, her curves becoming voluptuous and alluring. Her nails grew long and sharp, like obsidian talons, ready to strike.

Jane's once-ordinary hair thickened and lengthened, cascading down her back in a torrent of glossy, ebony waves. Her breasts swelled with a newfound plumpness, going from a meagre B cup to a commanding double D. Her figure transformed into an embodiment of seduction and power.

Muscles that had once been delicate and feminine now hardened, sculpting her into an athletic and toned form, blending grace and strength in a way that was both sexy and fearsome.

Carnal images and sensations filled her mind, like a vast library of pleasures were getting downloading into her brain. Knowledge of magic spells, hexes and curses invaded her brain and gave her intimate expertise as if she had been a student of the dark arts for decades. It was intoxicating.

Opening her eyes she found herself now awake from her coma, standing back in the chamber alone. The necklace that had started all of this was clung tight to her chest. Her eyes, now shimmering with a malevolent light, reflected the eerie radiance of the cursed gem. In that moment, her transformation was complete, and a dark presence had taken root within her.

She gazed at her reflection in an ancient, cracked mirror within the chamber, and her voice, now dripping with seductive cruelty, echoed in the silence. "Ah, much better," she purred, her own voice sounding both familiar and yet profoundly altered, "I was once so naïve, so kind-hearted. But look at me now."

With a haughty laugh, she envisioned herself ruling over Opar, Queen La's dark legacy reborn in her. "I shall be the new queen of this empire, and the jungle will tremble at the mention of my name. No one can resist the allure of power, especially when it's draped in such beauty."

Her fingers, adorned with long, razor-sharp nails, traced the contours of her transformed body, admiring her newfound allure and power. "The jungle will bow before me," she continued, her voice filled with icy determination. "And Tarzan... oh, Tarzan, he will come to realize the joy of serving me."

Almost as if he had been summoned, Tarzan appeared at the foot of the chamber having descended with a shaman mixture that he believed would reawaken Jane but found it suddenly unneeded.

There, before him, stood Jane, but she was unrecognizable. Her once-kind eyes now glinted with a sinister light, and her body had transformed into a vision of seductive power. She wore the cursed necklace with an air of cruel confidence.

"Jane?" Tarzan's voice quivered with disbelief and desperation as he stepped closer.

She turned to face him, and a wicked smile danced upon her lips. "Oh, Tarzan," she purred, her voice dripping with both familiarity and malevolence, "you've returned."

In that moment, Tarzan realized the depth of the darkness that had taken hold of his beloved Jane. "What has happened to you?" he pleaded, his heart heavy with sorrow.

Her laughter was chilling, a stark contrast to the laughter he once knew. "I've embraced the power that this necklace has given me, Tarzan," she declared. "I am the new queen of Opar, doesn’t royalty suit me perfectly?"

Tarzan's eyes pleaded with Jane, desperate to reach the woman he loved, hidden beneath the darkness that had consumed her. "Jane, please," he implored, his voice filled with anguish, "you must destroy that necklace. It's corrupting you."

But Jane merely chuckled, the sound cold and heartless. "Tarzan, you underestimate me," she said, her voice dripping with scorn. With a swift, mocking gesture, she tore the cursed necklace from her neck.

Tarzan's heart leaped with hope, but it was short-lived. In the palm of her hand, she squeezed the necklace causing it to crumbled to dust, as if it had never existed. Jane's eyes blazed with a newfound malevolence.

"I don't need the necklace to be queen, you fool," she sneered, her gaze locked on Tarzan. "The power is within me now. I am the queen of Opar, and no one can challenge my reign."

A sense of dread washed over Tarzan as he realized the extent of the transformation that had taken place. Jane had become a force of darkness, and there seemed to be no way to reach the woman he had once known.

"In fact, as a show of my power," Jane hissed, her voice filled with a chilling determination. With a casual flick of her wrist, the very vines that had once been their allies came alive. They slithered and twisted through the air, responding to her dark command.

Tarzan's eyes widened with alarm as the sinewy vines snaked around him, their grip growing tighter with each passing moment. His powerful struggles were rendered futile as they constricted, holding him immobile, like a helpless prey ensnared in the jungle's unforgiving embrace.

Jane's eyes bore into his, devoid of the warmth and love he had once known. Instead, they gleamed with an eerie satisfaction, reveling in her newfound dominance.

"Tarzan," she taunted, her voice dripping with cruel delight, "you see, there is no escaping my rule. The jungle is mine to command now, and you are but a mere obstacle."

"But you may be useful to me yet," Jane mused with a sinister smile, her lips curving in a mocking grin. Leaning in, she pressed her lips to Tarzan's with a chilling, calculated tenderness.

As their lips met, a malevolent energy surged from Jane's mouth into Tarzan's, and a darkness seemed to creep through his veins. Agonizing pain wracked his body, and he convulsed as a profound transformation began.

Tarzan's muscles bulged and expanded, his body becoming more impenetrable, like the very stones of the jungle. His once-tanned skin turned an eerie shade of gray, and his eyes, once filled with warmth and life, darkened into abyssal pools of black.

Through the torment, Tarzan's voice turned cold with an eerie subservience as he asked, "What is your bidding, my Queen?"

Jane's malevolent laughter echoed through the chamber as she gazed upon the creature that Tarzan had become, a loyal servant of her dark reign. The jungle had truly fallen under her dominion, and she held the once-mighty Tarzan in her thrall, a grim testament to the extent of her power.

“Come my pet, there is much to do.” She said with a knowing smirk as she released Tarzan from his binds and he followed her obediently.

For another tale of Jane’s corruption check out this fantastic story here by @misseviehyde

#f2f #corruption #bitchification #magic #evil bitch #magic jewelry #corrupted jewellery #evil couple #fanfic #ai image #merged #corrupted couple

117 notes · View notes

supernaturalgirl20 · 1 year

Text

Realisation

Pairings: Marcus Pike x f!reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, explicit, unprotected sex, PinV sex, fingering, cursing, jealousy, angsty, mention of fertility issues, mentions of separation.

Summary: you and Marcus join his family for dinner but he can’t seem to keep his hands off you. Theresa also pushes Marcus to the limit and that fiery temper makes a reappearance.

Series Masterlist

A/N: ahhh nearly there…only one more part to go 😊ok so some people have asked me to keep the Taglist going so I will do it for another little while 😜

Comments and reblogs really appreciated 🥰

You could sense him behind you - his warmth permeating your skin - and a smile slowly edged its way onto your face as his arms wrapped around you.

“You look beautiful, baby,” he whispers into the skin of your neck as he peppers kisses there. His hand begins to wander and his fingers play with the hem of your white dress.

“Think we could skip dinner and just stay here, maybe test out the strength of that hanging chair mom bought in the study?” Marcus asks as he gazes at you in the mirror, eyes glazed over with lust.

Turning in his arms, you move your hand along his chest and up his neck before running your fingers through his hair. His eyes close as he releases a contented sigh. “I think your mom would kill us if we missed dinner. Maybe we could hang back tomorrow when they all go to church, test it out then?”

His eyes shoot open and for a moment he just stares at you. “God you’re fucking perfect, baby. I love you.”

“Love you too. Now,” you say as you run your hands down along the lapels of his blazer, “we better get going before they send out a search party.” Marcus leans in and captures your lips in a searing kiss before pulling away and leading you out of the room and down the stairs to join everyone else.

***

Marcus holds open the door to the restaurant as he guides you inside, his hand resting comfortably on your lower back and when you glance up at him you find him already staring at you with a smile on his face.

Mary had reserved an area at the back of the restaurant and when you both reach the table you see that some family friends have been invited too. You spot Theresa in the corner, a wicked smile on her face and an uneasy feeling settles in your stomach.

You’ve never liked her.

There was always something off about her and it didn’t help that she had an unwavering attraction to Marcus.

Settling into your chair you smile at Marcus as he pours you a glass of red, taking a sip of the smooth aromatic drink. His hand rests atop your thigh, his fingers tracing patterns into your skin and you can’t help the shiver that runs through you.

Your heartbeat is thrumming beneath your skin, your cunt pulsating with desire and you want nothing more than for Marcus to move his fingers to where you desperately need them.

As if he can sense what’s on your mind, he turns away from his brother James and looks at you through hooded eyes. He has a devilish glint in his eyes and a sly smirk slowly edges its way onto his face.

“Everything ok, baby?” He asks teasingly.

“Yep,” you stammer as you pull your bottom lip between your teeth. His eyebrow is raised in question but his fingers slowly move beneath the hem of your dress, forging a trail up along your thigh and towards your heat.

His fingers move your underwear aside and run along your slick and you try so desperately not to moan. You glance quickly around the table and everyone seems to be engrossed in their own conversations. Thank god, you think to yourself before you jump slightly, the feel of his thick fingers slowly pushing their way inside you.

“If you keep quiet baby, I’ll fuck you good and hard later just how you like,” he whispers as he leans into you.

His fingers work in and out of you slowly as his thumb circles your swollen bud. You can feel your release working its way towards the edge and when he curls his finger and presses your clit hard you clench around his thick digits.

You bite into your lips harder and you think you’ve drawn blood but you don’t care, you feel amazing. Marcus winks at you, leaning in and kissing you softly before pulling his fingers from your heat.

He brings them to his mouth and licks them clean, a soft groan slipping from his lips. “Someone’s enjoying their meal,” Mary says with a smile on her face and you sink back into the chair.

“Absolutely delicious, mom. Best meal I’ve ever had,” Marcus says winking at you before digging into his meal.

***

The food is delicious and dinner passes quickly with everyone having a great time. It’s nice spending time with family and the atmosphere is warm and cheerful but you still can’t shake the uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach.

The faint call of your name draws your attention and you glance across the table to Theresa who is staring at you with a sly smile.

“I was just saying, it’s a shame you and Marcus don’t have any children yet. I mean how long are you two married now? Four, five years? Do you not want any children?”

Your whole body tensed.

A wave of emotion swells up inside you and you can feel the eyes of everyone at the table boring into you. I wish the floor would open and swallow me whole.

Other members of Marcus’s extended family and friends join in, asking when you plan to have a family, how you would both make great parents and it all just becomes too much.

Marcus gives your thigh a squeeze, a silent reassurance that he’s got you before he looks sternly across at Theresa.

“Unfortunately for you Theresa, what happens in our marriage is none of your concern. Myself and Y/N are happy and that’s all that matters. If and when we decide to have a family is between us, no one else so I’ll ask kindly that you mind your own business.”

“I was just curious is all. When we were growing up you always talked about having your own family so I assume it’s Y/N who doesn’t want any. I’m pretty sure that grounds for annulment,” Theresa says, eyes shifting around the table searching for someone to back her up.

Your eyes are closed now and you are trying so fucking hard not to cry. What makes it worse is that she's right. Marcus has always been excited about having a family and what if you are the problem. What then?

You push your chair back and grab your purse before rushing towards the bathroom.

Marcus is standing now and his gaze stays with you until you're out of sight before he turns to Theresa. “You fucking bitch. How dare you. You’re nothing but a cheap whore who can’t shut her mouth. And you’re fucking delusional, because even though I’ve turned you down countless times, you still won’t get the message. I don’t want you. Never have. Never will. Y/N is my wife and the love of my life. It’s gonna be me and her forever, so back the fuck off.”

Theresa gasps and feigns insult, before standing and pointing her finger at him but before she can get a word out of her mouth, John stands with a shout.

“Theresa, I think you’ve said enough. Joanne, you are a dear friend of the family but if you don’t leave right now and take your daughter with you, I’ll be forced to do something I’m gonna regret.” His tone is harsh and his face is stern but they get the message and leave quickly.

He turns his gaze to Marcus, “go to her son. See if she’s ok.” Marcus nods his head before rushing after you.

***

A knock on the door startles you and you quickly wipe the tears from your eyes before touching up your makeup. “Baby, it’s me,”

Marcus whispers softly through the door and you release a shuddered breath before closing your eyes and counting to ten.

With a deep inhale you calm yourself before reaching for the door handle and slowly opening it. Marcus pushes his way in and locks the door behind him, then turns to face you.

His eyes take you in before meeting your gaze, eyes full of sympathy, full of love. “I’m so sorry about her, baby. She should never have been invited but I promise this was the last time that she will ever be around us.”

“It’s fine,” you murmur as you let your gaze wander to the floor. “It’s not fine,” Marcus growled as he reached out a hand and caressed your cheek.

“That bitch doesn’t know what she’s talking about, ok?” He slides his hand under your chin and tilts your head slightly, your eyes meeting his.

“She’s right though. I’m the reason you don’t have a family. I’m broken,” you said with a strangled sob.

“Baby, we’ve been over this. The only family I need is you. That’s it.”

“But - but what if it isn’t enough and then you resent me, I….” You whimper as tears begin to streak across your face.

“God, you infuriate me baby. Yes, you’re a pain in the ass and you drive me absolutely fucking crazy half the time but I won’t ever resent you. I love you. You’re smart, funny, crazy talented at your job and so fucking beautiful, even more so because you don’t actually think so. I’m sorry for every mistake I’ve made, for every harsh thing I’ve ever said, for every time I’ve ignored our problems and let you deal with them on your own. I'm sorry for ever making you think this is your fault. It isn’t. Hell, I might be the reason we can’t get pregnant.”

His hands cup your cheeks as he stares down at you. “I love you. I’ve loved you from our first date and I’m gonna love you until my last breath.”

“Marcus,” you stutter. He pulls you closer towards him placing a hand at the back of your neck, the other grips your waist tight. “I’m so fucking sorry, baby. You are the most important thing to me, I just forgot to show you how much. I forgot to just love you. I won’t make that mistake again.” His breathing is ragged as he finishes his speech, his thumb rubbing along the skin of your cheek.

You take in a shuddered breath as you stare into his eyes. Those beautiful whiskey coloured orbs and you simply nod as a watery smile spreads across your face. “I’ve only ever wanted you, Marcus. Just you.”

He smiles brightly, “yeah?” He asks, his eyes darting between yours.

“Yeah.” He leans in and kisses you passionately, his arms moving along your waist to wrap around you, pulling you into him. A moan escapes your lips at the feel of his hardened length against you.

“Fuck baby. I need you,” he breathes out as his hands grab at your ass. “Can I have you? Right here, baby?”

Words escape you, the burning desire coursing through your veins invading your senses. Marcus wastes no time in turning you around and pushing you against the sink. He angles your hips just right and his hand moves under your dress finding your underwear and ripping them off.

“Gonna fuck you now baby, ok?” He whispers into the skin of your neck.

“Do it. Wanna feel you Marcus, please!” You beg.

He groans into your shoulder as he lines up at your entrance and thrusts up into you. You both moan as you stretch to accommodate him. His pace is brutal. His rough hands grip your waist tight as he fucks the frustration away and you are loving it. You love when he gets like this; completely feral.

“Oh fuck! Marcus…oh god..” you moan loudly. He reaches around and tilts your head so you can see yourselves in the mirror. “Want you to watch me fuck you baby. Wanna see your face when you come.”

His hand snakes down to your clit, rubbing over your swollen bud as he continues to fuck into you. He knows your close - so is he - but he wants to see you come undone first.

“Oh…oh fuck…fuck Marcus I’m….I’m gonna…” you stutter as you teeter along the edge.

He bites into your shoulder, “come on baby, come all over my cock. Wanna feel you.” You come completely undone as your cunt pulses around him. He grunts loudly into your ear as he finishes inside you.

You both just stay like that for a moment, his gaze locked on you in the mirror. “I love you, baby. And I promise you that we’ll get through this together.”

“Together,” you whisper as you tilt your head to kiss him softly. Pulling away, he helps fix you up as he readjusts himself. He kisses you passionately before pulling back and leaning into your ear. “Wanna skip that show and test out that hanging chair?”

“Hell yes. Lead the way, baby,” you purred as you laced your fingers with his. All doubts and insecurities fade as you leave the restaurant. Fuck Theresa Lisbon, you think to yourself as Marcus wraps his arm around you, pulling you close as he hails a cab.

***

Marcus had texted his mom and apologised for leaving but she was having none of it. Messaging back to say that we didn’t have to apologise and to enjoy some time alone.

Which you did.

Many times. And the hanging chair in the study was definitely sturdy.

The following morning, a gentle knock on the bedroom door startled you awake and Marcus groaned tiredly as he shuffled from bed and opened it.

“Mom?” What are you…” Mary pushes her way inside carrying a tray of breakfast, setting it on the bedside locker before sitting at the end of the bed.

You look at Marcus, perplexed as to what she wants but he just closes the door and shrugs his shoulders.

Mary waits until he’s slid back under the duvet and pulled you close before she begins to speak. “I know,” she states as she glances between you both.

“Know what?” Marcus asks nervously, his hand squeezing you slightly. She gives him an incredulous look before rolling her eyes.

“I know that you two were separating. No one said anything before you ask but - a mother always knows. Besides, you two were at each other's throats from the minute you both arrived. Wasn’t hard to put together.” She sighs, her gaze drifting to the sheets bundled in her hands before it meets you both again.

“I’m assuming, from last night, it has something to do with having a baby.” Marcus looks down at you before meeting his mothers gaze and nodding.

“Look, I’m no expert but I have had three children so I know something about it at least. People always assume that when they want to have a baby that all they have to do is have sex without protection and boom, pregnant. That’s not always the case. I didn’t get pregnant with Laura until a year after me and your dad started trying.” Marcus’s face tinges pink at the mention of his parents getting down to business and you can’t help the giggle that escapes your lips.

“Then we had James but that took some months too. With you Marcus, we weren’t even really trying and I got pregnant straight away. What I’m trying to say is that good things take time. Sometimes longer than we expect and sometimes it never happens at all. And that’s ok too. There are other ways to have a baby. All that really matters is that you both love each other.”

She reaches for Marcus’s hand, then yours and she looks between you both with a smile on her face. “It will happen when the time is right and if it doesn’t, you still have each other.”

Marcus looks to you then and smiles, those brown eyes full of love and affection and you know that everything will be alright.

“Ok, I’ll leave you two alone. Take your time and enjoy breakfast.”

“Thanks mom.” Mary winks at you both before closing the door behind her, leaving you alone. “I think she’s right. Maybe we shouldn’t put too much pressure on ourselves and just focus on getting back to where we were as a couple.” Marcus says softly, his thumb rubbing into your hand.

“I agree. Maybe we should go to therapy too, just to - ya know.” Marcus nods his head as he leans in and presses his lips to yours softly. Pulling away he rests his forehead against yours, “let’s just enjoy the next few days and go from there.”

“I love you Marcus.”

“I love you too, baby.”

Part 6

Everything: @maievdenoir @amneris21 @hnt-escape @elegantduckturtle @jediknight122 @ayrusss @hayley-the-comet @sherala007 @alexxavicry @scorpio-marionette @donnaa @practicalghost @tanzthompson @beskarprincessjenny @littlemisspascal @icanbeyourjedi @thatpinkshirt @maryfanson @sunnshineeexoxo @misspearly1 @misspearlssideblog @athalien @its--fandom--darling @sara-alonso @doommommy @browneyes-issac @trickstersp8 @nembees @kaitieskidmore1 @mswarriorbabe80 @allthe-ships @tintinn16 @hungrhay @rosie-posie08 @manuymesut @all-the-way-down-here @iccedays @dindjarinswhore @tusk89 @graciexmarvel @pedrostories @pedr0swh0r3 @musings-of-a-rose @karlawithacapitalk @harriedandharassed @untitledarea

#pedro pascal #marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x female reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #marcus pike x female reader #the mentalist fanfiction

217 notes · View notes

beoneofus · 11 months

Text

𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐝𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

- 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐠𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐮𝐧𝐤 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐫 -

you're someone who likes piercings. you're both fascinated and turned on by them, which got you into the art of diy experiments. It started off with a simple ear piercing, and then led you down a more... curious, and daring road. you now have a whole line of piercings down your right ear, including your rook; double nose piercings, and a septum. your next is to place a hoop on the left corner of your lip.

dark clothing, plaid clothing and clothes with wicked designs is also something you love. you sometimes dress as, what localists would describe as “ street ”. cargo pants that hang off your hips, tanks that show your mid-droft or are just ripped at the bottom. boxer briefs, where the waistband tends to show because of the jeans (or pants) you wear. It was a unique style, and it was you.

whether you wear lots of rings, brackets or necklaces — it depends on your outfit or mood. sometimes you liked classic chain necklaces, other times you decided on cool rings and a classic band bracelet.

for whatever reason, david took a liking to all of this. you were different. and not like one of tge tourists that moved through town, or a local outcast that sported a spiked mohawk. you had your own personality and changed up yourself a lot; a new person each day. It spiked his interest.

when he decided to speak to you one day, the boys whooped the entire time. he had threw them a warning look over his shoulder, but it didn't stop ‘em. even usually quiet dwayne was pumping a fist in the air and shouting encouraging words with a smirk. all david could do was sigh, shake his head, and grin to himself.

but surprisingly, the conversation went well. he thought, which was odd, that it'd be a fail. you truly didn't seem like someone to get down with a strange guy who approached you, but you acted nonchalant and kept light humor to the conversation. he liked that. he liked you.

even though it was intention to lore you and eat out your insides, like his plan all the time, he figured he'd wait a little. having you stick around would be fun, or so that's what his gut told him. and, listen - david always listened to his gut.

be glad he did though. that gave him time to know you, and for you to know him. although throughout this time you were uneasy around him, you still went with shit. you chilled about, played around and acted yourself. It'd be weird if he did see through the act.

but... not actually. cause, well - vampire. david wasn't an idiot, he sensed your change in mood when it happened as well as read your body language and facial structure. the littlest bit of wariness, he spotted. it was no shock though, that usually did happen around smart humans. did it make things harder? Indeed. he'd probably have to get messy in further weeks, but... he had a feeling killing you wasn't going to go through, after all. that being his choice.

he was right, too. david told you about him and his boys. what was really shocking is that you didn't freak out. you... passed out, from surprise, but once you awoke and was given a little bit of space, you were eerily calm over the situation.

you officially befriended them all after that, and as time passed, you and david became closer.

you convinced him to wear eyeliner, actually. you fought him on it and fought him on it, until you made a deal with him. If he let you apply it, just once, you'd let him drink from your wrist. just as a treat for being a good boy good sport.

he was silent, resting back in his chair. one leg was folded over the other, while cold eyes stared at you; not a single thought behind them... or so it seemed. If anything, it seemed like he just wanted to murder you. until he spoke. “ alright, ” david said, flickering his gaze off of you with a sigh of defeat. “ deal. but if you poke my eye out, I'm draining you of every drop in your damn body. ”

and so you made him look dashing. it was just a simple appliance to his waterline and the line underneath his upper lashes, but damn did it make his eyes POP. you almost teased him, but resisted. instead you settled with a small grin, and a peck to his cheek.

“ you look handsome. ”

was he taken back? absolutely. but he didn't let it show. he was just... silent, before smirking, letting you think it was his cockiness showing through.

in reality, however, his heart had jumped and it scared the shit out of him.

the boys ended up entering the cave later on, and when they spotted david they nearly pissed themselves of laughter.

paul immediately bursts into hyena howling laughs, marko slaps a hand over his mouth to stop from spitting everywhere, and dwayne smirks widely. he didn't exactly know how to react, given it was funny, but also a dangerous game if he chose to laugh. that's why he excuses himself.

hint; he went to laugh elsewhere.

that was only one of many incidents to happen. having a person around who was proud of who they were, that loved to be... out there, but also distanced themselves from crowds, was rather interesting.

basically you were comfortable in your skin, just not around the open sea. all four boys liked it. but david just seemed to... like it a bit more.

when he finally asked you on a date, it took you a second to process it. only because it didn't seem like he was asking you on a date. he questioned you if you wanted to go somewhere, and you instantly agreed, but when you asked if the others were coming... he said “ no, it's just us two, doll. ”

you put it together after a minute. your face, which heated up, turned away from him. You didn't see it but david smirked, before taking your hand in his own.

that night was rather fun. the vampire had taken you to a lookout on the outskirts of santa carla. It took some time to get there, but when you did, you were awestruck. it wasn't only because the sight was enduring, but because he dared to lift you up over the fence that separated you from the landslide, and held you by he waist. one arm wrapped around your waist, while his other hand rested on your thigh.

you were breathless about it, but didn't say a word. instead, rested back against him; the back of your black tank riding up the slightest.

silence took you two most of the night, but when you did talk, it was calming. you were glad you agreed to go with him, even though in the beginning you weren't aware of it being like that.

It was nice. and it only was the beginning for a bunch of fun years to come.

( I was going to make this longer and more detailed but I got distracted 💔 so if you want a part two let me know. )

#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #tlb 1987 #david the lost boys #david powers #the lost boys x reader

108 notes · View notes

corazondebeskar-reads · 3 months

Text

wip wednesday!

tysm for the tags @kewwrites and @milla-frenchy 🖤

first off, I wanna say thank you SO SO much to everyone who has left their love and/or hate for "ain't no rest for the wicked." now that I'm done putting y'all through it with that one, it's time for...

gladiator din!

the first chapter of "live to rise" will be out on friday, but have another preview:

Just three days ago, Din Djarin had stood in the grand hall at Keldabe, knowing it would be the last time. It was still. Silent. Not yet in the chaos of war, but just on the edge, as when rainfall is a distant specter and the uneasiness cloisters in your lungs. He takes in the art behind the throne with quiet reverence, eyes following the sharp lines and bold colors, the stories of their ancestors dutifully and beautifully eternalized. He thinks once more of Grogu, breathes through the pain, and then clears his mind.

I'm very excited but equally nervous about this one. It's different than my other works in that it's a slow burn and a more serious reader. I hope y'all will enjoy the angstfest.

no pressure tags: @lincolndjarin @bearsbeetsbeskar @beskarandblasters @toxicanonymity @iamasaddie @tightjeansjavi @janaispunk @covetyou

#din djarin x reader #wip wednesday #fic: live to rise

21 notes · View notes

mydisenchantedeulogy · 2 years

Text

Something Wicked This Way Comes || Vampire! Albert Wesker

A/n: I want to thank @lottathoughts for inspiring me to write this. She writes some the best vampire content, so give her a read.

Warning(s): blood and gore, taunting, sex (consented), death, choking, Wesker being Wesker, blood-drinking, female reader, Excella getting pepper sprayed (basically).

No minors allowed!

An ominous air consumes you, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. The sensation brings doom as the sun sets in the west, appearing to have been devoured by the vast ocean on the horizon beyond your bedroom window.

Something is coming; you only pray it isn't death.

Though, as a vampire hunter, praying for life is redundant. You chase death. It's a part of your lineage.

Leaving the room, you join your family in the living area. The television is on the news, cut down so that the volume doesn't bother anyone. As you sit beside your mother on the couch, your father turns his eyes to you a moment from his perch near the window then continues to sharpen a stake he carved from driftwood he had gathered from the beach.

"Are you OK kiddo?" He asks in concern.

You aren't sure.

"I have a bad feeling about being here," you answer.

Your brother snorts.

"I checked the perimeter already and the sensors are working. You're just letting your thoughts consume you."

"Don't worry so much dear," your mother mentions as she rests a hand on your shoulder in an attempt to comfort you. "Ricardo set this base up for us."

You turn up your eyes at the mention of his name.

Ricardo Irving isn't the most reliable person to do business with but your parents like him. He is a merchant of sorts that for years has moved your family around the country. Vampires reside in all corners of the world and Irving makes a profit from each successful hunt.

He's greedy but he does his job well.

With an uneasy breath, you lean back against the couch.

"The air just feels dark and suffocating here," you mention. "There was plenty of work in the city. I don't understand why we are on an island that barely has 100 people on it."

"You know why. Ricardo gave us intel that Albert Wesker was in the area," your father explains.

Perhaps it is because of him you are uneasy. Albert Wesker is a power-hungry monster; a test subject created by Oswell E. Spencer with the same cells that ran through the Father of Vampires, Dracula; the legend your ancestor Abraham Van Helsing was rumored to have slain.

It's true that Spencer absorbed the cells and became a vampire but his body could not handle the rapid changes, so he engineered a being who could; a being who later took his life.

Wesker then sought to create a super-powered world of vampires. His reach had spread across the world and though hunting him should have been easy, it wasn't. His strength and savagery are beyond compare.

However, if your father believes there is a good chance to kill him, then there must be. You trust him, but the ominous air remains.

"Perhaps I'm just exhausted," you mention.

"I can go back out and check the perimeter if you like," your brother declares.

You will feel much better, you reckon.

"Please."

Your brother snorts and retrieves his crossbow.

"Honestly," he states with a laugh, glancing at you over his shoulder as he swings the door open. "Where would you be––"

You widen your eyes in horror as you hear him grunt, then sputter. To your surprise, you watch your brother collapse to the floor. His stomach is slit open and his intestines hang like a rope from the injury. You scream his name and stand, but a familiar man saunters in.

"Nice place, isn't it?" Irving asks. He steps over your brother's limp body and hums. "Sorry about the mess."

"Ricardo?" Your mother questions in shock.

What is he doing here? It takes you a moment to realize that his hand is covered in your brother's blood. But that can't be. You widen your eyes in disbelief.

"You've been turned."

Irving laughs.

"I was gonna tell you lot over the phone, but I thought I'd make a home visit instead. I hope you don't mind me bringin' some friends over."

Through the doorway walks a man you are familiar with; a stunning man whose appearance you've only been told about. And it's no mistake. Death comes in the form of Albert Wesker.

"Get out of here! The two of you need to run!" Your father shouts.

Your mother reacts first, taking you by the hand and pulling you into the kitchen. You hear your father shout, then there is silence.

"We have to––"

Your mother interrupts you.

"No. Listen to me. We were not prepared for this," she mentions. Her eyes are dark and full of tears. "You need to get to the shore and take the boat to the other side of the island where it's safe. There are people over there who can help you."

"What are you saying? We can go together," You argue.

She shakes her head and quickly rushes over to the counter to retrieve a bottle of pepper spray that had been refilled with aged garlic extract, handing it to you.

"Hurry and––"

"Oh, little pigs, come out and play!" Irving interrupts with a shout.

Your mother shoves you towards the backdoor.

"Go now!"

You want to stay; you want to die with her, but something in you urges you to run. And so, you do. You rush out the backdoor and onto the lawn, running for the tree line. There is a path that leads down to the beach. But as you draw near, a woman in white appears in your way. She is rather beautiful; her long brown hair falls over her shoulder in waves.

"Don't leave so soon darling. We haven't had time to play," she says, baring her fangs.

"Play with this," you hiss, spraying her in the face with the extract.

The woman screams in pain, touching her face. Her skin begins to melt and you waste no time running past her and into the woods. The ground bites at your bare feet as you run down the path, almost tripping over tree limbs and rocks as tears pour down your face. Your entire family is gone. But how? Were you not descendants of Van Helsing?

Breaking through the trees, you walk out onto the beach. The white sand sinks between your toes as you search for the boat. Where is it?

Fuck!

Your eyes widen as you spot it resting on the shore near the end. You make your way over to it, thankful that it has a motor. Once you manage to push it out into the water a bit, you climb inside. But as you grab the string for the motor, you are unexpectedly tossed from the boat and into the cold water.

Emerging with a gasp, you wipe the water from your eyes and notice Wesker standing on the shore.

"Descendant of Van Helsing," he calls out. "The last of his blood resides in your veins."

So, it is true. You are alone.

"Even if the Van Helsing bloodline disappears, there are other hunters," you mention with a sneer.

"But none as strong," Wesker retorts.

You grip the bottle in your hand as he walks into the water towards you. When he is close, you raise it and press the button. However, Wesker is much too fast. All you see is a blur as he darts to the side, reaching out to grab your arm. With a snap your wrist breaks and the bottle tumbles into the water, lost; you scream in pain.

"Humans are such weak creatures. You call me a monster, but I am making your kind stronger by weeding out the worms my creator failed to do," Wesker explains.

You narrow your eyes at him, unable to see his due to the sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose.

"Boohoo," you say in response. A grin pulls at your lips. "All this anger because daddy didn't hug you enough as a child. Humans aren't that easy to break."

Wesker tightens his jaw.

"We'll see about that."

He pushes you down into the water and holds you there. You struggle to get free, clawing at his arms as the panic starts to take over. You can't hold your breath forever. Swiping at his face, you manage to knock his sunglasses off but that does nothing to stop him. The more you kick and punch, the faster your body wears down.

Sea water enters your mouth as you take it in, attempting to breathe when there is no air in your lungs. And when it becomes too much, your vision fades to black. All you remember seeing before you lose consciousness is Wesker's cat-like eyes staring at you from the water's uneven surface.

And then there is warmth.

Saltwater bursts out of your mouth, causing you to sputter and cough. Your throat hurts so bad but at least you are alive.

As you lie on your back in the sand, trying to come to and return to reality, someone leans down on you; the sudden weight brings you discomfort.

"... off of me," you utter.

Something warm and wet trails up your neck, causing you to shiver. It feels good; almost too good. You open your eyes and see the ocean. But as you avert them you see a familiar face hovering over your neck. Wesker trails his tongue over your skin again, then leans up on his hands. His cat-like eyes stare at you in hunger.

You don't understand.

"W-why?"

"Because I've yet to break you," Wesker answers with a grin.

Is he serious? How does he intend to break you?

Wesker leans down and presses his lips against your neck, kissing the area. A shiver racks your body. What is he doing? His tongue sweeps unexpectedly over your heated skin and for a second you assume he's going to bite you, but instead, he bends up. And as his hand slides up your thigh, you realize what his intentions are.

So, why are you not stopping him? Perhaps Wesker is manipulating you. One thing is certain; however, you are curious to see whether or not he will make true to his threat.

When did you become so toxic?

His hand on your thigh continues up until his fingers rest over the crotch of your pants. You sigh in relief; the tension in your shoulders releases.

"Your ancestors would be so disappointed in you," Wesker mentions. His hand slowly rubs over your clothed pussy, even going so far as to squeeze you to draw out a reaction. "Van Helsing would turn in his grave if he could see you right now."

All you can do is bite your lip. His words are nasty but to you, they are a turn-on. You want more; you crave it.

Reaching down, you press his hand down on you, urging him to continue. But Wesker doesn't. He grins as a whine of disappointment leaves your mouth, watching you eagerly touch yourself.

"Break me," you beg.

Wesker snorts, reaching down to undo his pants.

"You are either insane or desperate."

Perhaps you are both. Who spends their entire life chasing death? You continue to touch yourself until Wesker knocks your hand away, reaching down to undo your pants. Once they are down, hanging on one leg with your panties, he turns you over onto your stomach. For a moment nothing happens. You listen to the waves as they smack against the shore, lying with your cheek on the cold white sand. Did he change his mind already?

Then to your relief, you feel Wesker's fingers on you, spreading your lower lips. You expect for him to at least prepare you more; of course, you are wet, but in no way you are ready to take him. However, without much care for your body, he presses the head of his cock against your eager hole and enters you. A groan of pain leaves you as he bottoms out inside you.

It's hard to believe a man as godly as him knows nothing of foreplay.

You turn up your eyes and bury your fingers in the sand. At least he feels good. You arch your hips, pressing your ass against him to urge him on. Wesker takes the hint and grasps your hips, easing back just to thrust into you again.

A pant of air escapes your open mouth, stirring the sand. He's good; too damn good for a creature of the night. You moan as his gloved fingers bite into your hips, bouncing your body with each thrust. This is unreal.

As much as you try, you can't contain the moans as they pour from your mouth. At this rate, your throat is going to be dry and sore. There is a slight pain in your walls from the sudden stretch but it's dull when in comparison to the euphoric sensation you get every time Wesker bottoms out, hitting your cervix.

"That's it," you utter.

Your stomach feels warm. Surges of pleasure – like electricity tingling your nerves – cause you to tighten. You can hardly take it. Reaching beneath you to your clit, you begin to rub circles around the bundle of nerves, moaning as the pleasure intensifies.

Wesker continues to fuck you and all the while you match his firm yet erratic pace. There's no way you can last much longer. You debate asking him to slow down; to at least drag out the moment, but it's too late. Your body shudders as you orgasm, forcing you to turn up your eyes in ecstasy. It's nothing like you've ever felt before. And once it runs its course, you slump in the sand, panting in exhaustion.

Wesker leans up on his knees, pulling you with him and pressing your back against his chest. From there, he continues to fuck you, tightening a hand around your throat. You gasp for air, reaching back with one hand to bury your fingers in his short slicked-back hair; the other grasps his arm. It's too much. You can't keep up with him; your body is far too exhausted, and strangely, it feels like he's moving too fast.

"S-slow down," you beg.

Wesker ignores you, forcing you to shut your eyes tight in an attempt to keep your head straight. His warm breath fans out against your neck as he speaks.

"We can have eternity together, my dear."

Is he asking you to become a vampire? You snort.

"Now look who's insane."

"I wasn't asking," Wesker retorts.

A burning pain tears through you as he sinks his fangs into your neck. You dig your fingernails in his arm and groan. It hurts but paired with the intense pace in which Wesker is fucking you, it's almost pleasurable. If only he weren't draining you of blood.

At last his body tenses, and he pulls out of you covering your ass in cum. Releasing you, Wesker yanks off his glove and bites into his wrist, drawing blood.

"Drink it," he orders, offering you a taste.

When you refuse, he grabs your chin and forces your mouth open, letting his blood drip onto your tongue. Tears pour down your face as you allow yourself to swallow the warm liquid. Wesker tastes divine.

An intense hunger suddenly consumes you and you bring his wrist to your lips to lap at the fresh wound. It's wrong, you know, but you want more. A whine of disappointment escapes your throat as Wesker yanks his arm away.

"Don't be greedy," he sneers.

You sigh watching the wound heal. Why would he offer to turn you? It makes no sense given your history.

"Is this how you plan to break me? By making me a vampire."

Wesker grins.

"Killing you would be too kind. I have forever to tear you apart now that you are mine."

You widen your eyes.

Fuck!

Perhaps you should have begged for death. It would have been less humiliating.

#resident evil fanfiction #albert wesker x reader #vampire au #resident evil #Albert Wesker

368 notes · View notes

impyssadobsessions · 1 year

Text

Phoenix Down

T w T story wouldn't leave my head for months so i wrote it instead of new chapters LOL but I hope y'all like it too~ Here's an excerpt below ~

The rain. It didn't matter where it rained or how heavy, Dick didn't like it. It made jumping off buildings more risky, visibility low, wrecks more likely to happen, and worse of all... it made him panic. Every time he was caught out in the rain, he felt his chest tighten. An uneasy chill in his spine that wouldn't go away. His stomach would churn and it took all his mental power to focus on anything else. This time wasn't any different. Or at least he thought. He stood perched on the edge of a rooftop, staring down below at the lights blurred by the heavy rain and mist. He was doing everything in his willpower to focus on the few moving lights. Keeping his mind blank as his hair stuck to his face. Just a few more hours, and then it will be time to head home. To a warm shower, and cool bed. Just to wake up in a couple hours and head off to his day job. No rest for the wicked nor for the vigilantes that fight them, as they say. Well, as they should say. Dick flinched, as his eyes saw movement in corner of his eye. There was a grayed out figure on the rooftop of one of the abandon buildings below. Small and staggering. He furrowed his brows watching the figure, as it stumbled closer to the edge of the roof. No. That's not good. Dick stood up from his perch, he took a step back and leapt forward off the roof, diving to the building below. He curled his body in the air to flip himself around, using his grappling hook to grab onto the billboard sign just above the building. Slowing his descent and landing onto the rooftop with a roll. The figure seemed startled as it fell back onto its bum. Water splashing as they hissed in pain. Nightwing smiled apologetically, as he took in the other's form, now that he could see it better. He couldn't be older than fifth-teen if he was being generous, though he looked closer to thirteen or twelve even. His hair was black and scruffy, and his eyes were piercing blue. Striking and clear despite the heavy fog and mist. He wore a torn hoodie, holding his arm to his chest. It was bandaged with ripped fabric. Presumably, from another article of clothing. A backpack was slung around one arm, looking just as worn as the rest of him. “Sorry for dropping in, but you look like you could use a hand.” Nightwing forced a grin, kneeling down as he offered his hand out to the boy. He didn't mean to scare the kid. Just to stop him from potentially dropping himself. He half-expected to be cussed at, after all, Nightwing was not well liked here. Neither was any vigilante. Instead, he was greeted with an annoyed glare, and quick wit. “I already have two, thanks.” The scruffy teen showing off his hands, letting go of his injured wrist for a moment. He then hissed in pain and returned to put pressure on his injury.

“One and a half.” Dick pointed out, still keeping his distance. He didn't want to overwhelm the teen, but he really hoped he let him look at his arm. “An extra pair, wouldn't hurt?” “No thanks, I can make do with less.” The teen scooted back from him, before shifting to get up on his knees. His feet ready to push himself up and run if need be. “Doesn't mean you have too.” He couldn't let him run away. His eyes glanced back at the injured arm. Nightwing offered, “At least let me clean up your arm.” The boy glared at him suspiciously, keeping his injured arm to his chest. “Its fine.” “The fabric is soaked in blood.” Dick pointed out, which seemed to be the wrong answer as the kid panicked down at his arm, hiding it away from him. Strange. Nightwing peered, trying to get a better look at the arm. At least he knows it wasn't self-inflicted by the way he reacted. Or at the very least, not intentionally created to be as bad as it was. Maybe he was running away from the gangs? They didn't have any problem hunting down a teen who was struck with bad luck, or anyone really. If only he could inch.. just a little.. closer-

The teen glared at him, moving back even more. Nightwing held up his hands, with a sheepish grin. “I concede.”

Way to mess up. He had to be patient. Think. “So water wing, why did you come up here all by yourself?” “Water wing?” The teen repeated with a raised brow. “It's raining, and you're holding your arm like a broken wing.” Dick tried to explain, when really he was just trying to think of what to call him on the spot. He doubted “kid” would receive a good reaction. “Unless you have a name for me to use?” “That's fowl.” The teen stuck his tongue out, but his response made Dick grin. “A real quack way of asking who the heck are you. Normally people, I don't know, start with their own name before they ask someone else's.” Name. He could do that. “Nightwing. I'm here to help you.” Dick held out his hand, hoping the teen take it.. or at least shake it. The teen raised a brow at the hand, then stared hard at Dick's face. His face trying to hold back showing his expression, as his mouth stressed trying to keep in place as he thought. Then his eyes widened, muttering. “Duck.” “Duck?” Nightwing uttered before he could register what the Teen meant. “Not so far off. It is a waterfow- “No. DUCK!” the teen lunged forward into Nightwing.- read rest on a03

#dick grayson #nightwing #danny fenton #danny phantom #dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc #dc x dp #crossover #fanfic #ao3 #phoenix down #was gonna wait til I had more chapters ready but T w T i couldn't LOL

194 notes · View notes

novacqnes · 1 year

Note

omg a part 2 to blue moon pls perhaps with lupe smut, maybe ms holiday (love that thank u) goes to a game and some other girl (peach or other team) flirts with her and we get jealous lupe…………. hot

you are brilliant

rumor has it // lupe garcia

warning: 69’ing with lupe, jealousy, possessiveness, dirty talk, top!lupe

pairing: lupe garcia x fem reader

a/n: i wasn’t planning on writing a part 2 originally but i love everything about this so here we go (also i had to google baseball terms for this so if they’re incorrect forgive me)

anticipation radiated off of the crowd as the teams tied. it was the final inning of the game and the blue sox batter stepped up to home plate. you watched nervously as lupe prepared herself for her final pitch.

she placed her feet shoulder width apart winding up her arm, she then lifted her leg parallel to the ground extending her arm as far as she could, exerting all of her power on the baseball. it flew from her grasp and past the batter and straight into carson’s mitt, first strike.

a sudden burst of cheers came from the crowd but it was too early to celebrate. silence swept over the onlookers as lupe took her spot once again, repeating the same series of moves almost ritualistically.

she launched the ball and it soared through the air, the batter swung hard but to no avail and it landed into the mitt, second strike.

excitement poured out of you and the rest of the peaches as it came down to one last pitch, it was on lupe. frustrated, the batter stepped up once again bracing for the impact as hundreds of eyes landed on the pitcher.

taking a deep breath lupe reeled the ball in and with all of her strength sent it flying, faster than she’d ever have. it took even carson by surprise as she caught it losing her balance. the crowd erupted into cheers as the peaches took home yet another win.

you shot up joining along as lupe searched for you in the crowd, sending you a small grin before joining the rest of the peaches on the side. she was practically oozing with pride and part of it was because of you.

since your initial meeting at the bar the peaches— or more specifically lupe had been on a winning streak. her performance was better than ever before and most importantly she was happy.

after each game she’d make her way towards your apartment allowing a beautiful relationship to bloom between you— within the walls of your home that is. due to the risks the two of you made sure to limit the displays of affection to indoors, only going out when it was safe, which was rare.

however after enough convincing lupe gave in and you were able to finally watch your girlfriend in action. seeing lupe in the game she was an entirely different person and it left you to wonder what else there was to her.

dozens of people poured off from the stands as the game came to a close, leaving a few others and the teams. although it was completely safe, you made your way to the field, hoping to sneak just a few moments with lupe before going home— but she was nowhere to be found.

the longer you waited the more stares you drew from the blue sox, most of not all curious ones. the attention caused an uneasy feeling to fester inside of you and you were sure you’d made a grave mistake.

turning on your heel you began to make your way to the exit when you felt a soft, alarmingly gentle hand on your shoulder. when you whipped around it wasn’t lupe but a tall, slim blue sox player. she had curly blonde hair that fell at her shoulders and a wicked smirk.

“looking for someone?” she asked.

“i was, but i think i’m just gonna head out.”

her eyes ran over your body as she took a step closer. most of the players were distracted by this point but a few gazes remained, a certain pitcher being one of them.

“that’s too bad….this your first game?”

“that obvious?” you chuckled, nervously picking at the hem of your skirt.

the longer she held you under her gaze the more nervous you became, it was wrong but you didn’t know how to pull away, not without making things worse.

“sort of….you know i like to remember people’s faces in the crowd, especially the new ones.” she purred.

her voice dropped to a teasingly low tone as she stepped closer, drastically diminishing the distance between the two of you. her pupils burned with pure lust as they landed on your lips, setting your cheeks ablaze.

craning her head to the side she leaned into your neck, her breath gently fanning your ear.

“i can’t—“

“i’ve seen you sing at the bar downtown…rumor has it that you offer private shows from time to time.”

a sweltering heat buzzed underneath your skin as the blue sox player watched in amusement. a shit eating smirk spread across her lips as she watched you back away, calmly making a beeline towards the nearest exit.

before you could even make it towards the fence you noticed lupe standing just a few feet away with her arms crossed over her chest. to say she was livid was an understatement.

“lu!” you exclaimed, rushing towards her, “jesus, you won’t believe what just happened-“

yet before the details of your latest encounter could leave your mouth lupe had already walked away, not even sparing you a second glance. she stormed across the field into the peaches changing room, leaving you behind. dumbfounded, you stumbled into the room along with her.

“um…what the hell?”

an eerie silence filled the room as lupe refused to look at you, angrily pulling off her uniform. you stepped closer to her putting a gentle hand on her shoulder when she whipped around to face you, her skin a deep red.

“why are you here?” she barked, pointing an accusatory finger at you. her tone was hostile, a complete contrast to how she normally was with you.

“excuse me?”

rather than pulling away you held your position gazing into lupe’s fierce brown eyes— she was fuming. her fists were balled at her sides and her nose scrunched, causing tiny lines to form.

although she was doing her best to appear intimidating, you weren’t scared, more so intrigued. you’d never witnessed this side of lupe and for some reason it stirred something deep inside of you.

“you said you wanted to see me. then when i come looking for you i find you flirting with the blue sox pitcher,” she spat.

jealousy was laced in each and every word that left lupe’s mouth. the way she spoke of the blue sox pitcher and seeing you with her— it all read envy. your relationship had rarely ever been put to the test of outside influences. therefore experiencing it for the very first time sent lupe into a fit of jealousy that she had no way of containing, or so she thought.

“honey, i do wanna see you. what you saw- i promise it’s nothing.”

you brought your hand over to her cheek, cupping it in your palm to reassure her, but she wasn’t fully convinced. now, lupe didn’t doubt your ability to be faithful in fact it was the least of her worries. her biggest gripe was with the thought of someone else talking, touching or even thinking about you in the way that she did.

she saw it in the bar, the way both men and women flocked to you with their awful methods of flirting. they’d gawk at your body and gush over your singing just to win you over, but it rarely ever amounted to anything. however seeing fellow players have their shot with you was completely uncharted territory.

“you don’t believe me, do you?”

lupe remained silent but that alone was enough confirmation. it was becoming abundantly clear that words alone weren’t going to convince her. you wrapped your arms around her neck, ushering her closer as she felt your chest press against hers.

“what would it take….to convince you?”

lupe snuck her arm around your waist, her eyes burning with desire along with hundreds of possible ideas that ran through her mind. but she finally settled on one when her eyes landed on the wooden bench just a few feet away.

“i’d like to witness ms holiday in all her glory.” she teased, eyeing you up and down through your tight floral dress. her lips brushed against your neck sending a small buzz of pleasure to your skin, and with that you knew it wasn’t about singing.

she left behind a trail of small kisses up your neck, just enough pressure to tease you. you gripped onto her tightly as she made her way up, slipping a man’s underneath your dress.

you cupped her face in your hands, desperately kissing with lustful desire. remnants of tobacco lingered on her tongue but you ignored it, pushing yourself against her even more.

pulling away lupe helped you undo your dress, savoring each image of your body as you undressed. after you were fully naked you turned towards her, eagerly tearing off the rest of her remaining clothes.

she went to lay on the bench first, laying flat when she gestured for you to come closer. tentatively you walked towards her lower preparing to get on your knees when she stopped you.

“i want you up here, on my face.”

her words rushed straight to your core causing you to yearn for lupe more than ever. you positioned your legs on opposite sides of the bench hovering over her mouth. slowly you began to sink down, gasping at the warm wet contact of lupe’s tongue against your clit.

you clutched onto her thighs, leaning forward as she ran her tongue along your dripping pussy, relishing in every moan and whine she was able to draw from your lips.

“fuck….” you cried, gently circling your hips on her face. she wrapped her arms around your legs enticing you to come closer, pursing her lips upward with an extreme fervor. streams of pleasure raged through your body from your pussy, egging lupe on even more.

“you like that, holiday? like how i fuck you with my tongue.”

“oh—fuck—i love it,” you mewled.

she gradually tightened her grip on you, giving you no room to run. she sloppily ran her tongue around your clit, sucking it into her mouth before moving on to your dripping hole. freeing one hand, she spat on her index finger before slipping it inside. together, she wrapped her tongue along the sensitive flesh, curving her finger to awaken your g-spot.

writhing above lupe, you could hardly contain yourself. your back slowly began to give, causing you to lean forward, just a few inches from lupe’s own heat. to preoccupied with your pleasure to notice this her pace weakened. the once fast flicks of her tongue dampened to tauntingly slow flicks that left you craving more.

without hesitation began to place deep kisses over lupe’s clit, sending a shiver up her spine.

“shit—y/n….keep going.”

she parted her legs a bit further enticing you to delve in further as did she. she wrapped her lips around your sensitive core, swirling her tongue along your folds, forcing you to moan into her pussy. the sweet vibrations of your mouth on her sent lupe into oblivion as she held onto for dear life.

your legs began to shake in her grasp, leading her pride to surge with each cry and obscenity that fell from your soft lips. she adored the sight of you unraveling, clinging onto lupe as if she was your whole word. it was further confirmation you were hers.

“want you to come all over my face— i wanna taste every part of you,” she groaned.

“lu, i’m so close—more, more, please.”

hungrily, you lapped up her fluids paying extra attention to her delicate nub. however, it grew increasingly more difficult to stay focused as her fingers toyed with your g-spot bringing you closer to a splintering high. lupe could feel it, how you wrapped around her fingers so deliciously and sloppy each movement of your tongue, you were moments away from an orgasm taking her along with you.

the insatiable ache between her legs rapidly built as she fueled yours. your pleas became more incoherent by the second, and lupe’s muffled by your core. she could feel herself losing control as your body went still above her. a shattering feeling rippled through your body, causing you to write helplessly against lupe. reeling from her own orgasm she pressed deep kisses into your thighs, soothing you.

“you did so good, baby,” she cooed.

with the last bit of strength left you shifted away from her face lying lifelessly on the wooden bench. she moved towards you, gazing at your sweat covered face.

“do you believe me now?”

“mh, of course.” she grinned, swinging an arm around you as you leaned in closer.

“why is that?”

lupe trusted you, therefore it was never a question of loyalty she just simply needed reassurance. and both of you found that sex was a more pleasurable way of doing so. one where she was able to have you all to herself, which was something she wasn’t afforded at the bar or even on the field.

she smirked, “well for one, you can’t fake sounds like that. two, i’m the one that got the private show… so i guess the rumor is true.”

150 notes · View notes