#Also for any lucky person still in the tags for some reason

[moonlitsnake-art]

Alright, one of my irl friend said it and I didn't think I could. But then I blacked out and woke up to this on the page

I MADE A MALE VERSION OF SIA AND HE'S AN EMO BOY!!! (Cue the ayesha erotica)

And how I think an interaction between sia and her gender bend would go:

(I didn't have much room but their both kinda tripped out their minds)

Below cut just the 'full page'

Put 'full page' in quotes bc there's more on the page but thats a spoiler for something I'm posting soon/later >:3

also, HE IS NOT A TWINK!! HE AND SIA BOTH HAVE PLENTY OF CHUB!!! (just to make sure the public knows)

[adancingalien]

𝕯𝖊𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

Benjicot/Davos Blackwood x bracken!reader

summary: after learning of your impending betrothal to another, you and Benji make a plan to stop it

warning: smut 18+ no use of y/n this fic revolves around pregnancy and has some light breeding kinks towards the end. the reader in this is able to get pregnant and is described as a woman.

word count: 3.9k

note: its finally here! i've really enjoyed writing this fic, its been a while since written one and i've never written smut so if its not the best sorry lol. thank you for everyone's support! i hope you guys like it <3 next time I post it will be on this account @dancingaliensfics so if you like this follow that account. also a couple people asked me to tag them so here you go x @alifeinspiredd @gotranting

It's Early in the morning when your father gives you the news. The sun had risen only an hour prior, the days growing short as winter approached, and your mother sat across from you. 

Marriage.

You spend some time considering the thought whilst eating your porridge. In any other case, it would have been good news. The list your father had created so far was filled with well-suited men. You recognised some, two Bracken cousins you knew well, a Mallister boy you’d met at a tourney. They were all reasonable ages, only one was older than thirty and he seemed to be an afterthought. Your father assured you that he'd consider your opinion in his choice. 

Truthly you were lucky, if it was a year earlier you'd be excited. But the one name you wanted, the only man you would ever consider marrying, wasn't on the list and never would be.

Benjicot Blackwood.

Heir to Raventree Hall, the seat of your enemy house, the man who'd captured your heart 10 moons ago.

And so you sit in silence, eyes distant, as your father speaks to you of balls and meetings and gifts. Your mother watches you quietly, although what goes through her mind you cannot say. Eventually, the conversation fades to noise as you watch the last streaks of pink fade from the sky. 

You meet with Benjicot in the same spot you always do. A field of clover and wildflowers, sheltered from the gaze of Stone Hedge by a small patch of woodland. He brings you a bouquet of dandelions, dittander and hedge bindweed he picked himself along the path. Every time you meet he brings you one and each time he hands it to you with that grin before hiding his face in your neck. You love it, and after all this time you still feel your heart flutter at the sight, no matter how torn and pathetic the blooms themselves usually are. 

Gods, you love him. And you're certain you'll never love anyone else the same. Still, you hope he hasn't found the bindweed from near your gardens, it's beautiful but so quickly consumes all other plants.

He flops onto the grass and then beckons for you to do the same. Benji wraps his arms around your side and you lean your head on his chest as he begins to tell you about some skirmish at the hedge stones.

“Those Brackens think they can do whatever they please whenever they choose. You’d think they'd have learnt their lesson after the beating we gave them last time.”

As he speaks you pluck at blades of grass beside you, tearing the seeds from the stem. He often forgets your heritage, as you do his, and the reminder makes you anxious.

“Still,” you mutter, “I wish you wouldn't rush so quickly into battle.”

Benji turns his head to look down at you and you feel his breath on your face. He pauses for a few moments, watching you closely before responding.

“You needn't worry, dove, I can hold my own, especially against some Bracken bastards.” His words are harsh and said with a grin but you can feel the sentiment behind them. Still, his answer doesn't satisfy you.

“You're not the only person I stand to lose in a battle.”

The two of you tend to speak little of the different sides you sit on, choosing instead to focus on your shared qualities. But since your father's announcement that morning, you find your heritage is all you can think of.

His hands tighten on your side and he begins to shift in the way he often does when unsettled. “Tell your bracken brethren to stay on their side of the lines then.”

“Yes because it is such a simple thing, to announce our ties to my whole family!” You turn from him with a huff pulling hard on the piece of grass in your grasp. You regret your words immediately but find yourself unwilling to apologise.

Benji pulls his brows tight, running his fingers over the hem of your skirt. He looks like a scolded dog, his face sullen and eyes moving quickly.

“I’m sorry.” He looks at you softly for a moment. “Will you tell me what's bothering you love? You've been down all day.”

You pause for a while, having pulled away all the grass in your little patch, leaving your fingernails stained green.

“My father gave me news.” You lift your head to look at Benji, his eyes watching you closely. “He's finding me a husband.”

“No.” The response comes quickly and with strong conviction.

Baffled by his response, your brows furrow. “What do you mean no?”

“I simply won't let it happen. You're mine and I'm yours and we were destined to be together, I know it. You will not be with anyone else.”

You pull a pained face, turning away from him. How can he say that with such certainty? That he simply won't let your father marry you off as though it's such a simple thing. It's both endearing and irritating.

“It's not so simple you know.” You look out at the setting sun as you speak, “I've been trying to think of ways to avoid it but truthfully, I have nothing to complain about. What can I say to stop it? I've spent so long thinking of options but nothing seems right.”

Benji takes hold of your hands, gazing at you with such intensity it catches you off guard.

“We'll run away together, you and me, right now.”

Your eyes widen and you stumble on your thoughts. What an idea. It's a pleasant thought really and part of you is compelled to accept, to leap up and run away with Benji in that moment. But it is not this part of you that speaks.

“What- Benji- I cannot, we cannot! Where would we even go.”

“Essos, the free cities, the North, gods I'd go to the Iron Islands if it meant I could marry you. Anywhere in the world where the names bracken and blackwood mean nothing.” your heart skips at the thought, that Benjicot Blackwood would abandon his title and land and family to be with you. Travel to an unknown land and begin again. It's a feeling that quickly spreads through your body leaving you warm and filled with a joy so strong it again compels you to accept and leave in that moment.

You run your fingers over his knuckles, feeling the healed cuts and scrapes that cover them. You consider your own family, of your mother, sat at her window, waiting for you to return home. Your father, sending out his men to fruitlessly search across all of Westeros for his beloved daughter. 

“I can't Benji.”

“Then we'll go in a few days instead, you can pack your things, and I'll think of a plan of where to go-”

“No Benji.” you look into his eyes. You see in them a future and a path you cannot take at this moment. “I couldn't do that to my family, couldn't leave them forever and you couldn't either. It would break your mother's heart.”

Your words sour his mood and he visibly shrinks. You take his hands fully in your own and reach over to kiss him softly on the cheek. You can feel slight stubble and realise he must have rushed out after receiving your letter. How you love this man. 

It isn’t long before you see a new thought arrive in his mind and it's clear he does no further thinking before sharing it.

“I'll just take you then!”

Truthly, your expectations were not high but you still find yourself floored by the stupidity of his ‘plan’.

“What.” You can simply find no other words.

Benji turns to face you fully, squeezing your hands tightly. He has a crazed look on his face and you wonder if this is what your Bracken brethren see on the battlefield. 

“Listen, I’ll simply take you with me to Raventree Hall and we will wed there.” He must notice your unimpressed look as he quickly continues. “That way you don't have to go too far and your family will know you're safe. Sure it'll take some time for those Bracken curs to accept it but eventually they'll have to and then you can see them when you please.”

“Safe? Benji, you've come up with some terrible ideas but this is a new level. It would be war! You really believe that my father, that any bracken would simply accept a blackwood taking their daughter in the night?”

“Then war it would be. I'd kill a thousand men to keep you.”

“A thousand of my men, my blood! Yes, what a beautiful honeymoon it would be, setting the funeral piers of my family.”

He falls silent at this and looks down at his hands. You can see him thinking but he has the sense to keep his thoughts to himself. After a few minutes, you sigh and take his hands back in yours, having dropped them at some point during your rant. Leaning over, you capture his lips in your own for just a moment and when you pull away he follows after you.

“Just… leave it to me. I shall think of a plan for us. We can keep yours as a last resort, yes?”

He brightens at this, happy to trust in your judgement. He agrees quickly before closing the small space between you.

It's a week later when you send a raven summoning Benji. As a child, you had discovered passages within Stone Hedge which had long been forgotten and often used them to pass in and out of the castle. Now you and Benji used them to visit each other in secret. It's a few days before he is able to make his way to Stone Hedge, having been corralled by his father into some dull political nonsense you couldn't care less about. By the time he makes it to you, slipping into your chambers using the passage hidden behind large tapestries, you feel truly desperate for him.

It's overwhelming really, how much you love him. Your entire body aches for him, your mind thinks of him at all times. The thought of marrying another leaves you ill and to imagine laying with a man that isn't Benji is truly mad. He knows you in ways no other has, and, if you get your way, never will. So really it's not a surprise that upon seeing you waste no time in pressing yourself to him. As your lips meet you can feel all the stress of the past days leave your mind and you quickly forget what it was you summoned him for. It seems Benji has found himself in a similar position to you as his hands begin to explore your body through your evening gown. His soft touch turns rough as you run your fingers through the coarse strands of his hair. 

You pull away, moving toward to settee. He trails after, lounging next to you with his around your shoulders, fingers toying with your hair.

“I’ve had much time to think,” you say hands resting on your lap. “And I believe I've thought of a solution. It’s mad truly, but it is the best chance we have. I am certain I want it but if you do not you must say and that will be final. It is not a decision to take lightly.”

At your serious tone, Benji straightens and looks at you fully. You are nervous, such a proposal is hardly made easily and yet you feel certain in your bones that he will accept. You know he loves you, there is no doubt about it. You only wonder if he is truly ready for a life together.

“I would do anything to be with you, dove. Tell me and it'll be done.”

You sigh at his words, both from frustration and adoration. 

“Do not say such things before you hear the proposal.”

“Then tell me it so that I may say them with informed certainty.”

You look him in the eyes then, struggling to find a way to say what you mean.

“I would have your child.”

Benji pauses at this, and you can see confusion in his eyes before he speaks.

“Yes. when we wed we shall have many children, as many as you wish.”

“No Benji,” you squeeze his hands tightly and push yourself to speak. “My father will never choose you as my husband so we must give him no choice. If I was with child, with your child, he would have to accept a marriage or risk shame upon myself and our house. I know my father well and I am sure he would choose my happiness over tradition.”

At this, Benjicot stops and his face falls blank. It's as if his mind is —- and you wait patiently for his response.

“It is…” he stops and then restarts “I would love nothing more than to have a child with you. It is something I have dreamt of and I truly believe myself ready for such responsibility. I do not doubt the longevity of my love for you. So please do not think it is commitment with gives me pause. It is just…” he begins to play with your fingers, nervous energy flowing through him. He stands quickly, releasing your hands though you are used to his restlessness and simply wait for him to return. He paces in a small circle, running his hand through his hair and then returns to his seat. 

“I would not do that to you,” he says finally. You look at him in surprise, his answer seeming nonsensical to you.

“You have done it to me many times.”

“No not that,” he says quickly, covering his face in his hands as he thinks again how to phrase what he means.

“I wouldn't put you through such treatment! As an unwed woman to father a child by you. No, I couldn't dishonour you like that.”

“Dishonour me? Benji, you have dishonoured me more times than I could count. By simply being here in this room you dishonour me. We have laid together, many times. If this was a concern of yours, you should have voiced it long ago.” your words are tinged with amusement.

Benjicot stands again, moving his arms wildly. 

“And what of how you would be treated? Not just by your parents but every member of the court, the servants, anyone who knew of it. You would be shamed and shunned by others.”

“You think I care what others say of me?”

“I think you will care when it happens.”

“Do not make assumptions on my behalf. I am my own woman, I can make my own choices. And I do not need you, Benjicot Blackwood, to decide such things for me.” 

You pause, breathing deeply in an attempt to remove the heat from your voice. It isn’t your intention to force Benji to do this with you and you fear if you continue to argue your meaning will be lost.

“If your reasons to not go forth are your own, because you do not feel ready or because you do not want to, then that is fine and I will accept it.”

Your attempt to calm the situation backfires miserably and your words light a fire inside of Benji.

“Of course not, didn’t say I would marry you in that field? That I would give up everything to be with you. Do not doubt my love.”

“I do not doubt it, Benji. But if you are willing to give up your titles and home, go through battle and fight hundreds to have me, why can't you trust that I would endure the shame of a pregnancy outside of wedlock for you?”

At last, Benji returns to his spot next to you. He looks into the fire but his gaze is distant.

“I can protect you from danger, from enemies. I can kill any man that threatens you. I can stand with you in fire and pain. But I can’t save you from cruel words and shame. This is… it's something you’ll have to bear alone. And I hate the thought of it.”

At last, you understand his meaning. Benjicot Blackwood is not a man who often loses control. He is fierce and strong and can slay any man who comes in his path. 

“I am strong. And I can protect myself, just this once. And you will be stood with, at my side, to give me strength when I fail.”

“I know, I just fear you aren’t ready.”

“I am ready.”

A coy smile spreads across your face.

“Let me convince you.” 

At that you kiss him, one hand placed on his cheek and the other on his chest. He quickly reciprocates and you move closer until you can throw one leg over his lap. His hands find your hair, attempting to undo your intricate braids before pulling away in frustration and glaring at the strands. You laugh lightly, moving to remove your pins as he reaches for your neck, leaving a firm bite before his tongue lathes over the area. His ministrations pull a soft moan from your mouth and as he lifts your skirts to run his hand up the soft skin of your thigh, your hair is released.

His other hand quickly finds its way into your hair, fingers weaving into the strands before your head is pulled back allowing better access to your neck. As Benji continues trailing kisses across your neck and chest, you begin to move yourself on his lap, grinding against him as you feel his cock harden beneath his breeches. How you long to feel him inside you, and the thought of him staying even as he reached his peak, seed spilling inside you, has you moving with increased vigour. Benji begins to let out his quiet groans and pants to match your soft moaning and it's not long before he has your behind held firmly in his grip. 

His mouth reaches the neckline of your dresses and begins to suck marks onto your skin while you fumble with the fastening of your gown. Once the bodice is undone and the stays are loosened, he pulls them down, taking your breasts into his hands. His mouth quickly latches onto one of your peaks and his tongue swirls around them. He shows you no mercy in his actions, hands pressing so tight they are sure to leave bruises. Benji moves his hand to your core, fingers covering themselves in your wetness before pressing against your clit. They move quickly, circling your bud for some time before travelling towards your hole. His thumb moves to take its place, pressing firmly against you as it rubs. His fingers prod gently at your hole, before one slips inside. He stays like this, easing his finger inside of you until you're ready to take another. His fingers move inside of you for a few minutes, your walls clenching around them as they stroke, before they increase in speed, beginning to curl deep inside of you. Benji continues to assault your chest, relishing in the moans and whines he pulls from your lips. 

It isn't long, however, before he pulls away from your chest to speak.

“I need you, my love.” he lifts your chin so that your eyes meet. You lean forward and kiss him, giving your answer through your actions. He removes his fingers from you, wiping them on your dress much to your disgust before standing, holding you with his hands beneath your ass and your legs around his waist.

 He moves quickly towards the bed and, though he's strong, you can see him focusing on not dropping you. You take the chance to join your lips to his neck, leaving your marks there. Although you know him to be faithful to you, you can’t stand the thought of any Blackwood whore making a pass at him and the hickeys serve to claim him as yours. Gods, you think, you must stop thinking in such ways, you’ll be a Blackwood yourself soon. The thought leaves you giddy and you grin at his neck. Benji drops you rather unceremoniously onto the bed before staring at you with a bemused look on his face.

“What you grinning about him?”

“Just the thought that I will soon be your wife.”

His grin widens at that and he leans down to capture your lips once again. 

“Yes, my wife and I'll be your husband.”

You kiss him again, biting his lip and tugging on it slightly.

“All mine.” your words pull a deep moan from him.

It isn’t long before both of you have stripped completely and you find yourself lying back on the sheets, Benji between your legs. He moves quickly above you, rubbing his cock against your folds, the head catching perfectly on your clit with every stroke. You moan wantonly, fingers reaching up to pull Benji towards your lips by the hair. Your firm grip causes him to groan deeply into your mouth and his movements increase in speed. It isn't long though before you pull away.

“Benji, darling, I need you inside of me please.”

You're expecting him to tease you, and make a joke about your begging and neediness but instead, he lets out a long breath, before reaching down and taking himself in hand. He runs the tip of his cock along your wetness once more before pressing inside of you. Your body accepts him eagerly and it isn't long before he fills you. How could you ever marry another when even your body is moulded perfectly to him? The sounds of your pleasure harmonise as Benji begins to move inside of you. His thrusts are fast and deep as always, his hips snapping against yours with every thrust. You feel your mind slipping as your sounds increase in volume. Your hands roam his whole body. Filthy words spill from your lips.

“Benji please my love- ah- I must have you. Please”

“You have me sweet one, you have me.”

You pull roughly on his hair at his words.

“No I must have all of you, please I need your seed. I want you to cum inside me.”

His hips stutter before his thrusts continue with increased fervour.

“Fill me please Benji, it will feel so good.”

Benji lays his head in the crook of your neck moaning without restraint. You feel yourself reaching your peak quickly and want him to cum with you. You lift your legs and wrap them tightly around his waist, moaning, turning to shrieks.

“I love you so much Benji,” you cry out, fingernails leaving scratches down his back. “I love you and I want your baby, please cum inside me.”

At your words, Benji lets out a choked sound, hips pressing firm against you, and feels the warmth of his release spill inside of you, pulling you to your peak alongside him. Your eyes squeeze shut, but if they hadn’t you would have seen the most delightful look on Benji’s face and he finished inside of you. It takes some time for his cock to stop twitching and even longer for the both of you to come back to the world of the living. Benji begins to lift himself off of you, but you tighten your legs.

“Stay.”

A simple command that he follows without question.

[holllandtrash]

last call | max verstappen

pairing: max verstappen x reader

a one shot based on the song last call by jamie miller, i highly suggest listening to it 'Cause when it's last call I wanna be your first call I wanna be your ride home You're gonna be my downfall

word count: 7.4k tags/warnings: soft and sweet, alcohol consumption

Max Verstappen was a lot of things.

He was a world champion, for starters. A two-time world champion, a title he carried proudly. He was on his way to claim that title for the third time, but he didn’t let the arrogance or the ease of it get to his head, there was still work to do this season.

He was a son and a brother. He cared about his family more than the media would ever know, always painting him as some sort of villain on and off the track to which it got to the point that Max simply stopped trying to change people’s opinions. His family knew who he was, he didn’t need to make any adjustments for them.

He was a friend, and a damn good one if he said so himself. To be fair, it was difficult to see the mates he grew up with when his job took him around the world and back, but he never forgot his roots. He cherished any time he got to spend with those in his close circle. He had a rule too, no phones. If he was with his friends, nothing on his phone mattered. That was also why he was deemed ‘antisocial’ during any breaks, however long. God forbid he not take any photos of him having a good time to prove he knows how to have a good time.

Last but most certainly not least, on Friday and Saturday nights in Monaco, he was a chauffeur. 

Your chauffeur.

Neither of you were quite sure when this whole arrangement started, but did that really even matter?

Max pulled up alongside the curb of the club and sent you a text. A minute later you came walking out the doors, a grin plastered on your face as you said your goodbyes to your friends. 

As you walked around the front of the car, Max tried to not let his gaze linger on the way your skirt showcased the length of your legs and how in a matter of a seconds you’d be sitting next to him and he’d be thanking his lucky stars he drove a manual so he had a reason to keep his hand off of you.

You climbed into the passenger side of his car, the seat was already adjusted to your height. There was an unopened bottle of water in the cup holder. An artist you listened to was already quietly playing through the speakers. Even if Max didn’t get a heads up that you were going out tonight, he knew what to do when you called him.

He knew that if the seat was pushed back you would complain, jokingly. He knew that you’d ask if he had water somewhere in his car and he knew that you’d ask for help to connect your phone to Bluetooth, if it hadn’t already died. 

And while Max liked that routine, he also liked seeing your face light up when you realised you no longer needed to ask for anything. 

“Hi,” you turned in your chair to face him. You were smiling, but you had been smiling all night. Did you mean any of them in the last few hours? The answer was unknown, but you certainly meant it now. You took one look at Max and you couldn’t help but smile, it was your body’s natural reaction, just like how you turned to face him as soon as you sat down. 

“Fun night?” He asked. He always asked that, but you both knew he didn’t care about what you got up to inside the walls of the nightclub. If he cared, he would have joined you the number of times you politely asked him to when you saw him in passing when you left the flat. But Max just wasn’t a nightclub kind of person. 

“Yeah,” you sighed, running your fingers through your hair. “Yeah, Rina’s a bit of a handful, but it was fun.”

“You stayed out late,” Max pointed out, but not in a type of way you would expect a parent to discipline their kid. It was simply Max calling attention to the time, the same time as always. 

This was a habit you had fallen into, unintentionally. 

Wherever you were, whatever establishment, when their bartenders yelled for last call, you pulled out your phone and called Max. The call for the last round of drinks was your reminder that you needed to go home and luckily, there was someone who would pick you up, every time, without fail. 

It was convenient that you two lived in the same building. It may have been in passing that Max offered for you to ever call him if you needed something, but neither of you expected it to spiral into this. 

He was just being friendly. It was the neighbourly thing to do. 

Which is why you were hesitant the first time you called Max when you needed a ride home. But all of your friends had left you, you lost your credit card somewhere on the dance floor and in your state of mind, you were in no position to try and walk the streets of Monte Carlo alone. 

So you called him, apologising about a dozen times but through the line you heard him get up from bed with a quiet sigh. You heard the jingle of keys and it wasn’t long before you finally heard Max’s car roar to life and he told you he’d be there in ten minutes.

That pattern of sounds became music to your ears before you knew it. The faint grunt as he stood up, the keys twirling around his finger, his car turning on. 

Breath, keys, car. It was clockwork. It was something you pretty much expected at this point when you called him. 

And Max, well Max knew it was pointless to even lay down, but he did on the off chance you didn’t go out. You always went out. 

Max had a good heart. He wanted his friends to be safe and somehow, you had wormed your way into that layer of his life. You were one of his friends. And he would rather you call him every Friday night than have to wake up in the morning and not know if you got home at all.

It was convenient that he was home for the break. He was in Monaco. He could be there for you when you needed him, and he would be.

But that pegged the question, what did you do when he was away? When he was racing? When he was across the globe fighting for championship points, who did you call to pick you up at the end of the night?

Max never asked. In fact, the topic of his job never came up with you. You knew he was a Formula 1 driver, he mentioned it subtly, well he thought it was subtle, it really wasn't. And when you said “Oh yeah, my dad watches that. He likes Josef Newgarden,” Max bit his tongue so as to not tell you that your dad was referring to an IndyCar driver, a completely different series.

You knew very little about the sport. Even with Monaco being the pinnacle track of Formula 1, you never bothered to learn about it or keep up with it. Maybe that’s why Max found it so easy to talk to you in the first place. You never once saw him as a driver. You just saw him as your neighbour and on some nights, your chauffeur. 

So one could imagine his surprise when you brought up his career during that drive home.

“When do you go back?” You asked, slight hesitancy in your tone as this was not a topic you knew well, your vocabulary was limited. “To racing?”

“Two weeks,” Max answered. “It’ll be my home race.”

He pulled up to a red light and glanced at you, instantly recognising that the term home race was not one you were familiar with, but you nodded as though you did. 

“It’s in the Netherlands,” he further clarified. Your mouth formed an ‘o’ shape as you were reminded that he was Dutch. 

“That’ll be fun,” you added. 

Why was this awkward? Neither of you were usually ones for small talk. Usually you would get in the car and talk about the characters you saw that you knew he’d get a laugh at. You would be chatting his ear off, that was part of the routine. 

And tonight, you were struggling to fill the silence. Max couldn’t tell why. 

You knew why, however. 

It was because when you were out tonight, your friend Rina was whisked away by someone who asked to dance with her. She blushed, her cheeks and neck turning bright red before saying yes and taking his hand to lead her towards the dance floor.

You watched with amusement, happy for your friend, but there was that sinking feeling of jealousy settling in the pit of your stomach. Granted, the man she was dancing with was not your type. He was tall, too tall, with dark features, an arm of tattoos. Sure he seemed charming and he certainly knew how to dance, but you weren’t jealous he had chosen Rina instead of you.

You were jealous that your friend had someone to dance with. 

And you had been asked a few times by strangers to join them under the lights, but you turned down all of them. They weren’t people you wanted to spend your time with. They didn’t give you butterflies when you thought about the potential of starting something new with a stranger from the club.

No, you got those butterflies when you climbed into the passenger seat of Max’s car. They were faint, they came as fast as they went. They could have been mistaken for nausea if you weren’t certain you only had two drinks tonight.

But they were there.

Which led to your next thought, if Max ever asked you to dance, you’d say yes in a heartbeat. 

And you had been attracted to Max since the first day you saw him, basically, but you kept those feelings to yourself, even as they grew from a physical attraction to more.

Recently, however, they had been getting harder and harder to ignore.

So maybe that’s why you were struggling to move past this silence right now. You were suddenly looking at Max in a very different light. He was your friend, yes, but he had proven time and time again that he would show up for you, that he wouldn’t hesitate to pick you up no matter that hour. None of your other friends made that commitment to you. 

But you would never act on any of it. The thoughts, the feelings. Max had never once hinted that he was interested, he was just nice. He was wholesome, despite what you had heard in the media. He was just looking out for you.

So when he walked you to the door of your flat that evening, you said goodnight like you usually did and you headed inside.

You had no idea that Max lingered in the hallway for a minute, debating with himself whether or not he should knock on your door. He’d done it before, making up some excuse to talk to you for just another few minutes. 

Because the truth was, Max enjoyed the time he spent with you, even if it was limited to those car rides from the club to your apartment complex. He liked not knowing which version of you would climb into the passenger seat. While you were almost always talkative, there were times when all you wanted was a coffee at an ungodly hour. There were times when you were complaining about the people you met. There were times when you couldn’t stop laughing to the point that Max had to pull over because your laughter was angelic and contagious and he wasn’t about to risk getting into an accident because the two of you couldn’t contain yourselves.

Max liked the fact that you always called him at the end of the night. 

For some weird reason, he liked that you were thinking of him. It made him so unbelievably happy to know that when the bartender yelled for ‘last call’ at the end of the night, he was your first call. 

But those phone calls were only ever restricted to Friday and Saturday nights. And only when he was in Monaco. While you didn’t understand Formula 1, you must have followed it a bit to know when he wasn’t home. You never called him during a race weekend. 

Except that one night last year when he was in Austin. It was just after 2am in Monaco, but Max was sitting down and having dinner in his hotel room. For you, it was early Sunday morning. For him it was still Saturday.

And it was because you didn’t recognise the pattern, you didn’t hear the breath, the keys, the car, you instantly knew that this was a weekend where he was away. He was working, racing, whatever he wanted to call it.

“Oh fuck,” you blurted out before Max could say anything. Your exclamation was met with a hefty laugh. He wasn’t annoyed in any means that you had called him while he was away, just a bit surprised is all. 

“I can order you an uber,” He instantly offered. You heard the sound of him shifting on the bed and his voice then echoed as it bounced off the walls of his hotel room, like he turned on the speakerphone, like he was already looking for the app to order you an uber from halfway across the world. 

“I can do that myself,” you argued. 

The line was silent for a moment. You were both thinking the same thing. Why didn’t you just always call an uber? Why did you always rely on Max to drive you home? 

Neither of you voiced that question. You had your own answers, but if they didn’t match up then that would lead to an entirely different conversation, one that you could do without, one that had the risk of ruining whatever sort of pattern you had fallen into.

“You okay? Did you have a fun night?” Max moved on, not wanting to think about how you were probably ordering that car for yourself. If he was in Monaco right now, he’d already be in the elevator down to the parking garage. 

“Yeah, it was good,” your words slurred together. Not enough to alarm Max, but he knew you. He knew that the more you drank, the more honest you were. 

You proved that point about two seconds later.

“Honestly, Jordan’s just fucking annoying,” you sighed. Max could picture you running your hands through your hair, you did that often, but especially when something was eating at you and right now, it was your friend Rina’s boyfriend. Boyfriend? Boy toy? Ex? Max tried to keep up, but there was a new label every week. It’d be easier to stay up to date with your life and the ‘drama’ that circled it if you saw him more than once or twice a weekend, but he wasn’t about to put that thought in your head and potentially scare you off. What you had was fine. The late night calls, the last calls turned first calls was fine.

“What happened now?” Max asked. 

“Well we literally told him not to come out, Rina’s still pissed after what he did last week- oh shit, hang on.”

While you searched for what Max could only assume was a credit card or your lip gloss or something that should have fallen out of your pockets by now, he thought back to what Jordan did last week. 

You sighed heavily into the receiver, “...what was I saying?”

“Rina’s still mad,” Max reminded you. “She hasn’t forgiven him for getting drunk at her parents anniversary dinner?”

You laughed, “God you have a better memory than me. I had to ask Rina why we were giving him the cold shoulder tonight.”

Point for Max. 

Why did this little victory mean so much to him?

“Anyway, he tried to make it up to her tonight by buying all of her drinks but then his card declined like an hour in, who lives in fucking Monte Carlo and can’t afford drinks? He’s a fake, is what he is and Rina deserves so much better. I have a theory he’s-”

“That he's from Nice,” Max finished with his own chuckle. “Want me to hire a P.I. to look into it?”

There was a pause and then a very serious, “Can you actually do that?”

“I could but I was joking,” Max said. He could picture your pouty bottom lip. It was a good thing you weren’t actually with him. He probably would have given in and found a private investigator within an hour. 

“Oh I think my uber- yeah that’s it,” you said, more to yourself than to him as your voice trailed off at the end. “I’m sorry for calling. I knew you were in Austin, I just- I forgot. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” Max told you. “You don’t ever need to apologise for calling me. You know that if I was home I’d come pick you up, right?”

A faint inhale, one that held so many feelings that your words could never express, “I know.”

“Get home safe, okay?”

“I will,” you assured him. “And good luck today. Or- tomorrow, I guess. I know you’ll kill it.”

This was how Max knew you weren’t keeping up with Formula 1. He had officially claimed his second world championship title last weekend in Japan. He could quite literally sit out of the remaining races and still hold enough points to safely stand at the top of the driver standings. 

But he wasn’t going to tell you that because he knew you’d instantly feel bad for not knowing, for not congratulating him. In your head, the championship fight went until the end of the season and typically it would, but this year was different for Max. 

Max just said thank you and you both hung up. You climbed into the backseat of an uber where there was no water waiting for you and you didn’t dare ask for the driver to play Harry Styles. Max laid back on his bed, pushing his tray of room service aside as he stared up at the hotel ceiling. 

When he returned that following Monday, Max was surprised to see dark blue streamers hanging on the outside of his door. There was a card shoved halfway underneath the door and he opened it up, looking at the delicate handwriting that read ‘heard you’re a world champion or whatever, let me know if you want to celebrate, I don’t mind picking you up for a change’. 

Max laughed as he read the card. It was very you. You didn��t give two shits about the driver championship and Max loved that. He loved that you found reasons to be his friend outside from the fact that he was a Formula 1 driver. You didn’t care that his name came with power, wealth, fame, but you still showed your support with the little you knew about racing. You were a good friend to him.

And that’s what it was. Friendship. Why else would you have written, ‘I don't mind picking you up for a change’? You weren’t offering to celebrate with him, you were offering to be the designated driver after he went out with his group of friends, the friends that did care about his career. 

Max would have gone out and celebrated with you. He would have said yes in a heartbeat, if you asked.

But you didn't. The closest that you came to going out with him was when you politely invited him to join you on your evenings out with your close circle, but Max was an afterthought. You never knocked on his door and invited him out, it was only if you passed him in the hallway or if the elevator doors opened and he was standing on the other side.

And Max said the same thing every time. ‘Nah, you have fun. Let me know if you need a ride home.’ 

Max thought you were just being friendly, neighbourly, but the truth was, you were waiting for the day where he said ‘Yeah, why not?’. 

You never went out of your way to ask him out because of the rejection you had received in passing. How embarrassing would it be if you knocked on his door only to be met with the same rejection? To see the look of pity on his face as the door slowly shut. 

There was a lot of uncertainty when it came to how you saw him or how he saw you and the only thing that was certain, was that you were friends. 

So that’s why Max didn’t knock on your door now and make up some excuse about how you left his lip gloss in his car. He returned to his room and found himself staring up at the ceiling of his flat at 2:30 in the morning, something he had gotten quite used to, until sleep took over as he was thinking about how maybe next time, maybe next Friday, he’ll make a proper move.

But a wrench was thrown into his plans when your name lit up his phone screen a few days later. It wasn’t weird that you were calling him, what he couldn’t understand was why. It was a little after three on a Wednesday. Your conversations, the phone calls, the late night drives, they were confined to weekends.

Max answered though, maybe you left work early and accidentally drank too many sangrias on a patio. He’d pick you up, of course, this was just very unlike your pattern.

He expected to hear the slurring of words. He could understand drunk you enough to piece together what you were saying.

But the sharp inhale through your words, this was new. It was clear you were actively trying to not cry into the phone, trying to hold yourself together but Max heard it as your meek ‘hi’ came through the receiver.

And god did it break him. 

“Where are you?” Max asked, already sliding his shoes on practically sprinting towards the elevator. Of course it was stuck on the main floor. No matter how many times he pressed the button, that steel boxed moved too damn slowly for his own good.

“Horizon,” you sniffed. Max recognized that restaurant. “I’m sorry, I didn’t- I didn’t know who to call. Can you-”

“I’m already on the way.”

It wasn’t far. Max pulled up outside the restaurant in under ten minutes. You were sitting on a bench, dark shades covering your eyes but Max caught the way you raised your hand to wipe your cheeks before climbing into the car. 

He didn’t even think to grab tissues before leaving his flat, but he had a feeling you would just deny them anyway. If he knew anything about you, he knew you weren’t one to cry. You had a very hard exterior, you felt things deeply, but you didn’t cry. Not in front of other people.

“Can we just- I don’t know, can we just drive for a bit?” you kept your gaze on the road in front of you. This wasn’t like you and Max would do anything to see the light in your eyes, to see your bright smile that made getting out of bed at 2 in morning worth it every time.

Max nodded, getting the idea that you didn’t want to talk. Or if you did, it would be on your own accord. You crossed one leg over the other and Max glanced at the beige romper you wore. He didn’t point out the dark red stain on your hem, but you rubbing at it was certainly not going to get it out. He could only assume it was wine? Did you spill wine on yourself at lunch? Who were you even out for lunch with?

And then he noticed you playing with the ring on your middle finger, again this wasn’t like you. You didn’t fidget and if you did, you’d play with the strands of your hair. 

Max had seen you drunk, he’d seen you a few drinks in, he’d seen you sober. 

He’d never seen you so upset over something before, though. The silence in the car was heavy. Whatever was on your mind, he wished there was a way for him to take some of the weight off of you. 

He wasn’t travelling in any particular direction, just aimlessly around Monaco, but after the seconds turned to minutes, Max saw you visibly relax against the seat of his car.

“Do you know what I do?” You asked him, pulling your sunglasses off. 

You both turned your faces towards each other. Faint mascara smudges stained the corner of your eyes. Your cheeks were still rosy, your jaw was clenched in anticipation of the rest of the conversation. This wasn’t the you that Max was used to, but it was a version of you he wanted to get to know. He wanted to know every side of you, even the sides you tried to hide behind sunglasses and spilled wine and choked back tears.

“Job wise?” Max asked for clarification. “Yeah, you’re ah- an environmental consultant? Right?”

You were a little impressed that he knew, but to be fair, you’ve had hundreds of conversations with Max and you weren’t sober for all of them. The discussion of jobs probably slipped your mind.

“I like my job,” you stated.

“Good. That’s important.”

“So why do I feel stuck?”

Max licked his lower lip, “Elaborate.”

“I’ve been doing the same thing since I graduated,” you told him, looking out the window again. Slowly, the Monte Carlo skyline was disappearing into the side mirrors. “And I like it, I do. I like the company I work for. I like the people I work with, but why does it feel like that’s the only thing I have going for me in life right now?”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Max sighed, but if he was being honest, he had no idea. What he knew about you was minimal and it killed him.

You nodded, but it was just out of politeness so as to not argue that he was wrong. 

A few more minutes passed before you inhaled the heaviest breath your lungs could take.

“My sister’s engaged. Rina’s moving to Milan at the end of the summer. My brother travels for a living and I just- I’m not doing anything.”

So that’s what this was about. Max was smart, he could put the pieces together. You talked about your siblings a bit, but you never mentioned your sister getting married before. The way you were looking down at your hand throughout this drive told Max that this late lunch was you meeting your sister so she could announce the good news.

And something as big as that would undoubtedly send someone spiralling, making them question their own life choices, the path they were on. As long as Max has known you, you’ve had the same job, same friends, no partner. 

Your best friend moving was not new either, you had excitedly told Max about her job offer a few weeks back, but maybe it was just sinking in now. Everyone around you was moving onto bigger and better things and you were, as you put it, stuck. 

“I think I need a change of scenery,” you admitted quietly. 

Which was not what Max wanted to hear.

Selfishly, he didn’t want you to leave Monaco. Even though he was the one who was gone so many weeks out of the year for the races, he liked knowing you would always be there when he returned home. That you were just down the hall. 

Before Max could try and talk you out of moving, you reached across the centre console and put your hand over his, the one that rested on the gear stick. This wasn’t the first time you had done this, Max knew you to be a little handsy when you were drinking, but you seemed to be sober this time. 

“I’m sorry for calling you,” you said, even though you really didn’t need to apologise. “I didn’t know who else to call and I just, I needed to breathe.”

Max found comfort in that. 

That he was someone you could clear your head with, that you didn’t need to put on an act around him. In a way, you trusted him. You must have if he was your first call after your sister dropped a bombshell.

When the two of you found your way back to the apartment complex, Max walked you to the door like he always did. Your flushed cheeks had returned to its normal colour. Your eyes no longer looked glossed over. And the smile you gave him seemed genuine.

You unlocked the door and pushed it open and something in Max screamed now or never and before he knew it, he was reaching for your hand to keep you from going inside. He pulled you back to face him and the expression you wore was unreadable. 

Max froze. 

Something that he never did.

He was always calm and collected, always ahead of his thoughts, always knew what to do and when to do it. 

But that was thanks to his training and his training only prepared him for driving at ridiculous speeds and navigating dozens of race tracks and thinking on his feet in tough situations while he sat behind the wheel of an F1 car.

His training didn’t prepare him for how stunned he would feel as he met your eyes, grabbing your attention for the first time outside the safety net of his regular car.

Whatever Max wanted to say, it had now vanished and he had no choice but to rely on the words that he had told you many times before.

“You know you don’t need to apologise for calling me, right?” Max said, his hand falling from yours. 

“I know,” a faint breath of laughter followed your assurance. 

“And for the record-” Max paused. “I don’t think you’re stuck. I think you’re right where you need to be.”

Max’s words stayed with you for the next few days. In fact, they were all you could think about, even when you met Rina Saturday night at your usual spot. She had ordered you a drink, she was a few in herself already and you had barely taken a sip when she brought up the idea of you moving to Milan with her.

You almost spit out the cocktail, “I- what? Move with you? Rina, my job’s here.”

“Yeah but you’re so experienced, I’m sure you could find another one in Milan,” Rina stuck out her lower lip. “I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do without my best friend.”

While you might have contemplated moving a few days ago, you weren’t sure you were really ready to leave Monaco. This was your home, you loved it here. Despite what you said to Max about feeling stuck, his words were burned into your mind.

You weren’t stuck. You had no reason to leave. You wanted to be here. 

You just had a momentary lapse of judgement. 

“I’m not moving, Rina,” you sighed, connecting your hand with hers. “But I’ll visit and you can too. I’m still your best friend, even if we’re in different countries.”

She knew better than to plead her case any more, deciding that spending the night drinking and dancing was more fun than thinking about her upcoming move. 

And before you knew it, the DJ made an announcement for the last call at the bar and you were pulling out your phone to call Max.

“Why don’t you just tell him how you feel?” Rina said, or rather, yelled, as the music was still blaring. She saw his contact on your screen, she saw the way the corner of your lips were pulled upwards when you thought about being with him shortly. 

“Because I don’t feel anything,” you shouted back. It was a lie. A bold faced lie that your friend saw right through but didn’t push you any more on it. 

She walked with you to the curb. Max rolled down the window and waved to her, offering her a ride as well. But Rina denied it, she knew this was your time to be with Max. 

“Get home safe, I love you,” you called out, hand gripping the handle of the passenger side door. Rina blew you a kiss and then you climbed in. 

Max reached into the backseat and grabbed the bottle of water he had tossed there when he left his apartment. He waited until taking a sip before asking if you had a fun night.

“Yeah, Rina asked me to move to Milan with her,” you answered, wiping the corner of your mouth. You looked at Max expectantly, trying to gauge what his answer would be. Surely the man who told you that you were in the right place wasn’t going to encourage you to move.

Max just hummed and put the car into drive. He waited until you were a few minutes away from the club to say anything, as if seeing Rina standing on the sidewalk in the rearview mirror was somehow going to make this conversation harder.

“What did you-��� Max stopped himself and chose something else to say, “You’re not moving, though. Right?”

And then you saw it. The way his eyebrows furrowed in concern. The way his hand clenched over the gear lever. The way his jaw tightened as he fought with himself before asking if you were in fact leaving.

Max didn’t want you to go. 

That thought alone made your stomach turn in knots, but not the kind you felt when you were sick. You were most definitely not sick, you could have been floating on cloud 9 when you realised Max wanted you to stay in Monaco.

“Are you kidding?” You retorted, feeling a burst of confidence. Maybe it was the alcohol, but you had been drunk before and never once tried flirting. No time like the present. “Think of how inconvenient it would be for you to drive to Milan every time I go clubbing.”

Max chuckled, his features softening as the lines around his lips made an appearance. God you loved his smile. 

“Oh so you’re staying for my sake? Well that’s- that’s really kind of you. Thank you.”

He stopped at a red light and turned to you. The heavy weight that was lingering on his shoulders when you mentioned moving had disappeared instantly. You weren’t going anywhere. You would still be here when Max returned from his races. You’d be here during the break. You’d be here, calling his phone on those Friday and Saturday nights when you needed a ride home.

“Can I ask you something?” Max spoke quietly, waiting until you nodded before getting something off his mind that had been there since this whole driving arrangement started. “Who do you call when I’m not in Monaco?”

Your smile was soft as the corner of your lips were tugged upwards. Max, if he wanted to, could have convinced himself it was the alcohol that caused you to be all smiley, but he also wanted to believe he had something to do with it. 

Dropping your gaze for a moment, you parted your lips, closed them again, and then took a breath as Max waited for your response.

“Max, I don’t go out when you’re not in Monaco.”

He was thinking he didn’t hear you correctly. Maybe you said you called some guy named Marco. That made more sense. You called a back-up rather than put your evening social life on pause while he was away.

He needed clarification, “What?”

You laughed this time, looking out the windshield. The traffic light was still red, but Max didn’t need to rely on the soft glow of the street light to make out the shade of pink that was climbing up your neck and cheeks.

“I don’t go out clubbing when you’re not in Monaco,” you repeated. He had heard you correctly.

Max wasn’t sure what to think. 

He felt like an idiot, for starters. If he had known you wanted to see him, to spend time with him, he would have put an effort in to join you during your nights out. Or better yet, maybe he would have asked you on a date. 

But he was clueless. He didn’t know that you relied on those calls at the end of the night because you were too shy to actually ask him out like a normal person would. You were too afraid of stepping outside of this pattern you both fell into because what if it didn’t work out?

Now it was all out in the open. The only reason you went out as much as you did when he was home was because you used it as an excuse to call him, to see him. 

The blaring of a horn from the car behind him caused Max to shift gears, quite literally and metaphorically. He took off, having missed the light turn green, and his attention went back to the road. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to look at you, he did. He very much wanted to continue this conversation but he was at a loss for words. 

The silence only grew during the drive back to your building. In the corner of his eye, he could see you shifting in the seat. You kept turning your phone on and off, hoping there would be texts to distract you from this hush that had fallen over the car. You were overthinking everything now, did you say the wrong thing? Would it have been better if you didn’t say anything?

Max too was overthinking everything. Had he misread signs you had tried to give him? Was he now making things worse by not acknowledging what you had said? With each passing second, it became more and more unbearable as you sat in anticipation for what sort of conversation was going to come next.

When Max finally pulled into the parking garage underneath the building, you couldn’t have reached for the door handle faster. You wanted to go inside, to forget you had said anything. God you even debated deleting his number from your phone so you didn’t risk calling him again the next time you went out.

But Max was quick too. 

He knew he had to do something to make up for how painful this car ride was, something that showed you he was on the same page as you, that he too looked forward to the moments he was home just so he could wait for your phone call.

He stepped out of the car when you did, walking around the front instead of heading towards the elevator. You kept your eyes down, planning on just walking right past him, and you would have, had Max not grabbed hold of your hand and pulled you into his body.

His fingers moved from your hand to your waist as his other hand cupped the side of your face and you finally looked at him for the first time since you got into the car. 

Now it was your turn to be at a loss for words, but that didn’t matter anyway. It wasn’t like you had time to say anything before Max took that leap, crossed the line, and pressed his lips to yours. 

And it was everything you had been waiting for. 

Max leaned against the hood of his car as you slid your hand up his shirt, grabbing the thin material as you wasted no time in kissing him back. His mouth was tender and soft as it moved against yours, both of you feeling the same intensity that had been building up for weeks, maybe even months now. 

It took everything in Max to not drag you back into the car and pull you on his lap in the driver's seat, an image that he had painted in his head a while ago. Instead, his grip on your waist just tightened, holding you against his chest the way he had been wanting to for a while now.

Your nose brushed against his when you pulled back, your gaze lingered on his lips before finally darting upwards. 

The parking garage was quiet, there was a low hum that came from the pipes above you. The overhead lights did nothing to set any sort of mood, but you couldn’t imagine a better place to share a first kiss with Max.

You weren’t in the safety of his car, a place that had become so comfortable to you. By waiting until you stepped out, by stopping you from walking to the elevator, Max was showing you that this was something he wanted and he wanted it when the car ride was over. He wanted it before you called him, before you went out for the night, before the weekend even started. 

He relaxed against the hood of his car, both of you sharing similar looks of serenity. There was no more confusion, no more wavering uncertainty. 

His fingers brushed through your hair before bringing your lips to his once more. 

And then there it was, that smile of yours that made getting into his car two in the morning so fucking worth it.

“What are you doing next weekend?” Max asked. He now knew the answer wouldn’t be going out with friends, that was reserved for when he was home.

You shrugged, “I’m not sure, why?”

“Well you said you wanted a change of scenery, right?” Max recalled your conversation from earlier this week. “How about the Netherlands?”

“You want me to come to a race?” You were probably the last person who should be invited to a Grand Prix and Max knew this, he even laughed at your doubtful response. 

“I really do,” he said. 

“I don’t know anything about Formula 1.”

Max rubbed his thumb over your side, the simple gesture was enough to have your body curving against his once more. 

“I have all of next week to give you a crash course,” he pointed out. “If you’re interested.” 

And of course you were. There’s nothing else you wanted more than to spend your evenings with Max, to learn more about his career, to learn about him. When your lips curved upwards into another smile, Max knew you were on board. 

“Okay,” you nodded slightly. “On one condition.”

“Which is?”

“You go out with me the next weekend you’re in Monaco.”

Max dipped his head back and laughed. You rested your hand at the nape of his neck, pulling his face back to yours. 

“I’m serious.”

“I know you are,” he chuckled. “And I will, but we’ll be leaving before last call.”

“That’s fine with me as long as you still take me home,” you pressed your lips together tightly, trying to contain your eagerness for the night that was still far in the future. Max brushed his thumb over your lower lip. He too was thinking ahead. 

Not just to that upcoming weekend, but every weekend after and all of the days inbetween. 

Coming home to Monaco was always something he looked forward to, but now he had even more of a reason to anticipate the breaks between races. You two didn’t have to wait until a Friday evening to see each other anymore. 

He didn’t have to be your first call at the end of the night, but you both knew he still would be, and so much more. 

He’d be your first call when you got home from work and you’d be his when he landed in a new country. You’d be the first person to call him after watching his winning performance of a race and likewise, you’d be the first person he wanted to talk to, the first person he wanted to celebrate with.

There’d be a lot of firsts moving forward, but you didn’t need to wait until last call anymore. 

masterlist here

this was mostly for @tsarinablogs and @estevries

[baby-tini]

Could you write racer Mikey hcs? I love him sm but no one seems to give him any love 😢

Of course, I adore street racer Mikey, I'm so happy Wakui gave him a happy ending. Also there's like one (1) tokrev spoiler towards the end.

🏍️- He loves it when you come to his races, especially if you're loudly cheering him on. He says that's the only reason he wins, you're his lucky charm. 🏍️- Mikey has you dye his hair black for him, you're the only person (besides Draken) he trusts too dye it for him, you always do it perfectly anyway. 🏍️- He obviously loves taking you for rides on his motorcycle, he will be an ass about it sometimes, by going insanely fast, he doesn't do it too scare you only too make you hold him tighter. 🏍️- If you're also into motorcycles like him, wonderful, he'll get you one of your own and teach everything about them. If you're not, that's fine, it's not a big deal to him. But, if you have really bad anxiety from them because of an accident, a family/friend had an accident or just genuine anxiety. He'll help you with exposure therapy, at first just using his feet too move the motorcycle and when you become comfortable with that, his speeds will slowly increase when you tell him it's okay to go faster. 🏍️- He really likes taking you to get-togethers of his friends and family. If you do want too bring a dish to the get-together, please keep Mikey out of the kitchen or he'll eat all the food or destroy the kitchen. 🏍️- He has a very large social media following, he'll post pictures of you on his motorcycle on IG with your tag of course, he'll post thirst traps on tiktok of you guys together, you guys have a youtube channel together and he has a twitter but rarely posts on it. 🏍️- He adores edits of him, on any platform. Even if they're bad he still likes them and he'll even save some of them or send some to you so you have... things too watch when he's not home. 🏍️- MIKEY IS BIG ON PRINCESS TREATMENT, he'll get on his knees and tie or strap your shoes. He'll open, Every. Single. Door. For you, plus he'll always give you his hand when you're getting up. If he sees the tiniest twitch or indication that you're cold? He's taking his jacket off IMMEDIENTLY and giving it to you. He's always washing your hair for you, hell, if you ask him too shave your legs? He will. No complaint. 🏍️- He loves showing you cool tricks on his motorcycle, like, basic wheelies, switchbacks, Christs, high chair circles and so on. 🏍️- Watching Takemichi get married and seeing how happy Hina was, caused him too propose a week later. He bought a beautiful ring, the stone being your birth stone with both of your initials carved on the inside. He also bought matching locket necklaces, yours has a picture of him, while his has a picture of you. "I got it for you so that, even when I'm not physically with you, a piece of me will be.."

[jenchan-writingmultis]

Twisted Wonderland Boys x Fem Reader in their respective Fairytales (Series)

Leona's Part

Previous Part (Riddle)

─────❅───── A/n: I might have butchered Leona, I'm so sorry :(

Content Warning: This Fic will be tagged as 16+ since it is a bit suggestive along with mentions of Gorey themes (Azul), it’s very vague. I haven’t finished Book 6 and Book 7 because I’m stuck in Tartarus, but they’re not done here yet. Riddle (Suggestive Themes), Leona (Cussing, Blood mention), Azul (Obsession, Manipulation, Cussing once, Potential Cannibalism? (He eats merpeople who are turned into Polyps). The reason for potential OOC was cause I mixed both the classic Villains with the personality of our beloved boys

Due to the Tumblr Limit, Each one will be divided unfortunately, hopefully, it's an easy navigation for all of you!

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First Batch would be: Riddle, Leona, Azul Second Batch would be: Kalim, Idia, Malleus

List of Villains interconnecting with each character:

Riddle = Queen of Hearts

Leona = Scar

Azul = Ursula

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Leona:

It’s hot, you thought to yourself, sweating bullets as if you were in the middle of a savanna, which, unfortunately, you were. Looking around; you only noticed a small cave that was a few feet away from you.

You could go there just by walking so without a doubt, you made your way to it, the closer you were the bigger the cave got, fanning yourself, you immediately went inside, sighing in relief as you felt cold water dripping to your forehead, it might be a wet pit cave. You were going to step further when you felt something squish beneath your feet.

“Urghk” a grunt was heard, causing you to jump back in surprise, the perfectly camouflaged man stirred up, sitting as he placed his tail on his lap, rubbing the part you stepped on. “Fuck, what the hell is a prey doing here?” snarling as he opened his eyes, piercing into your figure like he wanted to devour you here and there. “You’re lucky that I’m too lazy to eat you” he continued, sounding annoyed, standing up, he grabbed the collar of your shirt, pulling you roughly near to his face so that he could examine you better.

“You really are a prey,” he said amusedly, while you froze, not from fear, maybe a bit of that but also from surprise, Leona, your lover, was standing infront of you shirtless, with only just his pants, since when was he this bold?

“Leona!” you squeaked, covering your eyes to shy yourself away from the lion, who looked lost. “What?” he asked, crossing his arms, he found you looking like an idiot, covering your eyes like that, but instead of getting irritated, he found himself intrigued by how stupid the situation was.

“Put on some clothes please” you muttered, still not glancing at him, okay that was ridiculous, he grabbed your collar once again forcing you to look at him, “What kind of idiot would get flushed over a body?” he asked, after all, in this land, almost every beastmen and beastwomen were half naked, or fully naked, so why are you flustered? Huh, now examining your outfit, you didn’t seem to be a beast type.

"Hm," he murmured, pulling away to maintain a safe distance. "A human in the territory of beasts." He glanced lazily behind you, checking if you bought any of your herbivore friends with you. Finding none, he couldn't decide if you were bold or simply foolish. With a slight laugh, he added "You're bold. I'm surprised you weren't mauled and served as today's dinner on your way here."

“What does that mean?” you pouted, Leona somehow senses a feeling of familiarity in it, so he grabbed your hand, dragging you to his lair further as he sat down, placing you beside him, he draped himself on you.

Yeah, this feels familiar, he thought to himself, laying on your plush thighs, you didn’t even push him away automatically brushing your fingers in his hair. “I’m guessing you’re not from around here Prey,” he asked, eyes closing as he feasted on your affection.

“Yeah, I just happen to be here” you replied shortly, you didn’t really know what to say, this guy might not even be Leona, maybe he’s an evil counterpart, but the thing is he seemed to be fond of you, so what’s the difference? Was it the fact that the scar on his eye was bigger? Or the fact that he was littered with tattoos, unlike your Leona? The black ink spreading all over his arms to his back and neck was pretty, it suits him.

“When I take the throne, I’ll make you my little mouse,” he said so casually which caused you to stiffen. “Take the throne?” you asked as your fingers nimbly pushed the hair back that was covering his face, the moment he opened his eyes you saw the determination in his usually bored eyes.

“I will be king someday,” he said, grabbing your wrist you felt him pull it to his lips as he nuzzled it, so uncharacteristic of him, however, you’re not even sure who he is, so maybe not.

Pain suddenly surrounds your wrist, squeaking when Leona bit your wrist, letting the blood drip into his mouth; that hurt, you tried to pull your hand away but his grab on you was firm.

“I’ll be ten times the king Farena and his little brat will ever be” he stated, letting your wrist go when he saw the look you gave, fear, it suits you.

Yeah, He’s decided, the way you react, the way you stare at him with both love and fear. He’s going to keep you.   I’m sure you knew what he meant when he said he would take the throne right?

Azul Part one

[moderninfatuation]

Hi! I was wondering if I could request a male reader x leon s kennedy oneshot! Where male reader is super dumb (literally a himbo) and doesn't realize that his best friend of YEARS is deeply in love with him, but on reader's birthday, leon confesses to him and reader is in super super shock and doesn't know what to say, so he just acts impulsively and kisses leon. It can be nsfw or not! I don't really care, I hope you can do it, you are totally w your right to delete or ignore my request if you don't feel comfortable >_<

note: Hi! thank you for being my first request; I am super comfortable :) I am honestly a little nervous, but thats part of the reason why i wanna post my writing. I need to get used to it one way or the other. anyway, enough about me lol-

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Birthday Wishes

character: Leon S. Kennedy

tags: sfw, m!reader, himbo reader, oblivious reader, love confession, readers birthday

word count: 1465

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The candles decorating your cake are no longer lit, ribbons of smoke floating past your nose on the way to the ceiling, bumping against the helium balloons resting there. The isolated noise of clapping and a happy cheer comes from behind you for a moment before the light switch is inevitably flicked, flooding your eyes with light that makes you squeeze them shut for a little longer than a blink.

This whole situation is completely unexpected to you, for some reason. Leon has teamed up with your parents to throw a surprise birthday party the second you come home from your work, and up until the door to your apartment opened, you didn’t notice a thing.

You did not figure out why there was an oddly fragile looking box in the trunk of Leon’s car that he didn’t want you to throw your bag into, nor did you see a point in letting him drive you home; you only gave in because he insisted. You also didn’t know why your parents were trying to call Leon pretty much all the time on your way home. He just shrugged it off as “Huh, looks like I forgot my jacket at their place.”, and he was lucky enough that it only earned him a laugh instead of further questions as to why he was at your parent’s place to begin with. Now you know better: The mystery box held your birthday cake, fresh from the bakery, and your parents were calling Leon nonstop to announce that they’re stuck in traffic on the way to your apartment, which explains why Leon is the only other person next to your table right now, a little party hat strapped to the top of his head in glittery shades of blue and silver.

It is your birthday and pretty much half of the town knows, but you also made sure to move the actual party to the weekend. Anything to make sure your friends actually have time; you don’t want to hear any of those “I have a shift that day” excuses. It is a shame that your parents won't be able to make it today, but you also don’t want them to be there when your friends are there on the weekend. You had plans with them that go further than spin the bottle and birthday cake, and you’d hate to have your parents watch you get shitfaced on a Sunday evening despite having to work the next day.

Another thing that seemingly flew past you is how Leon seems a little off today. Now that the light is finally on, it is clear as day: He wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans, and once he finally leans in to hug you along with saying his best birthday wishes right next to your ear, you can hear the beating of his heart over his voice. It hammers against his chest as if it wants to jump out and run. You chalk it up to anxiety about you noticing that he’s preparing a surprise; it does take a lot to set things like this up, which means that it is only natural for him to be nervous about you finding out beforehand, right? But why is he still nervous, then?

“So…” Leon begins once his back is straight again, with his palm still lingering on your shoulder. “Wanna tell me what you wished for?”

There is a sort of hopeful glint in his eyes that he desperately tries to keep hidden behind his usually confident smile. Yes, you finally figured out why he’s been so anxious today… a secret present.

Well, you’re right this time… sort of.

You grin up at him. “I can’t tell you,” you say in a lilting tone, leaning back a bit further in your chair to see his reaction. Oh yeah, you’ve totally got him now. “... but, I think you can help it come true by telling me what your secret is.” you say as you cross your legs with a confidence that is usually only reserved for higher ups.

There is a twitch in Leon’s lower eyelids as his expression slightly falls. “Hold on, are you serious?” he suddenly says. “I was- we’re on the same page here, right? I don’t want to overcomplicate things-” The words fall from his mouth as if he’d been holding onto them for too long, but you had him figured out from the very start, didn’t you? No wonder he’s been so fidgety all evening, you can practically smell the decorated and wrapped gift box he’s hiding under his jacket.

He laughs nervously, crossing his arms in front of his chest in a faux display of ease. “Well, it’s been a while since I had something serious, much less with another guy, and I feel like you’ve been throwing hints at me for a while now, but I just didn’t know when to bring it up, you know?” He goes on, his eyes focused on you, as if you’ll dissolve if he looks anywhere else but you. You’re starting to catch the feeling that this is more than just a present, and it leaves you just a bit stunned, too dumbfounded to speak as Leon explains himself, keeping up the cool exterior aside from a few drops of sweat right above his brow. 

“... But I also don’t want to ruin your birthday, I don’t want you to feel like your birthday was shitty this year. If you’re not interested in me, that’s fine, we can forget about all this,” He continues to ramble as you stare up at him. Oh. Your lips part in a silent gasp as the realization hits you in the face. “It's just that you're my best friend, and lately you’ve been on my mind a lot, and I catch myself thinking about what it would be like if we were to get closer…” He explains himself gently, lowering himself down to his knees to reverse your positions, to get closer, much like he just said.

Feelings begin to overwhelm you as he rambles on, making up excuses and finding a way to express that he’d be able to shrug it off if you told him that you don’t feel the same, a lie obvious to anyone but you. You don’t know about the countless nights he thought about this, wide awake as he sorts the words in his head to have them ready whenever he deems himself ready to confess. How to make it look effortless, how to cope with what would happen if you told him off. He was honestly prepared for everything.

You do feel the same, though. You have felt the same since the both of you started spending more time together, charmed by his wit and empathy, despite his struggles to express the latter. In this very moment, you feel as if something is squeezing your heart. The thought of losing him chokes your soul, and before he can make the offer to “Take you out on a date first”, to “test the waters, see if you want the same”, you squeeze your eyes shut in preparation, grab him by the collar of his jacket and pull him up high enough to press your lips against his, effectively shutting him up before his thoughts spiral further.

His eyes widen in shock, needing a second to process the sudden action before his eyelashes flutter shut, his hands reaching out to hold onto your lower arms, as if he would fall into the ground otherwise. You spend a few seconds like this, his body almost boneless as he relaxes into the kiss before you make the first move to pull back, breathless and surprised by your own initiative as Leon seemingly needs a second to come back to reality. You’re usually not the brash type, but you physically felt like you had no other choice.

“I thought-” you begin, breaking yourself off as your thoughts need to catch up to your mouth due to the lack of oxygen. “I didn’t know, Leon!” is the only thing you manage to say, eyes fixated on the other man’s lips because you can barely help the urge to do that again.

Leon smiles in reply once his brain begins to function again. “Well,” he starts before needing to clear his throat to continue. “You also didn’t know there was a whole-ass surprise party planned…” His hands idly stroke up and down your forearms where he has been holding onto you, unsure if it is to soothe you or himself. Before he can throw any more snark at you, you scoff and kiss him again, this time keeping your eyes open to watch his reaction. He responds by shutting his own in enjoyment, slow and relaxed, as if a heavy weight got lifted off of his shoulders.

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[theunholybastard]

Kinktober: October 10th - Voyeurism (Cardinal Copia x Gender-Neutral!Reader)

Tags: Voyeurism, Dub-Con, Mutual Masterbation, Getting Caught, Scent Kink (If You Squint), Copia Is PATHETIC, 2nd Person POV

Cardinal Copia Emeritus; Your closest friend and confidant within the walls of the Ministry. He never imagined he could think of you like this, but after tonight, he fears he will not be able to go a single day without envisioning your nude body spread out for him.

This wasn't supposed to have happened. He had previously cancelled your hang-out plans, too caught up with the never-ending demands of the Clergy. But after pulling a few strings, he was able to break away from his duties early, and excitedly decided to go and surprise you. Unlocking the door to your chambers, (because you were ever so kind and generous enough to give him a spare key) he entered, ready to hit you with a flourish and a 'ta-da!' His words caught in his throat before he could utter them, realizing you were nowhere to be found. He didn't understand. You said you'd be home tonight.

Just then, he heard some noises coming from the other side of your bedroom door. Oh, you must've been in there! Maybe you had been sleeping? Listening closer, the noises sounded almost like a muffled sob. Oh no, were you crying in there? His heart broke at the thought, his dearest companion, sobbing their heart out without anyone to provide them comfort. It's awfully lucky that he was here now, to hold you close and rub your back soothingly.

He slowly cracks open the door, not wishing to startle you by just barging in. His softened, concerned gaze turns quickly into one of shock, mismatched eyes bulging and jaw slack as he sees you sprawled out on your bed, completely bare and a hand between your legs. You hadn't noticed him, eyes shut and lost in the sensations of self-pleasure. His first thought was to close the door and run out of your chambers, coming back at a later time and forgetting that this had ever happened. That's what he should do, certainly; But he couldn't. All he could do was stand there, white eye peeking through the crack, watching it all unfold.

At first he convinced himself the only reason he didn't look away and leave immediately was because he was in shock, physically unable to move himself from the scene. But as blood swiftly started to rush down south to his cock, he knew he couldn't lie to himself any longer. In all the years he's known you, he's never thought of you this way. He never thought he did, at least. The way he would shiver when your skin accidentally grazed his, the way he would forget how to speak when you looked him in the eyes, and not to mention the way his heart always skipped a beat when you stick your tongue out for unholy communion; he started to piece things together.

The more he heard your sweet sounds, the more aggressively his cock twitched underneath his pants, the head of his cock no doubt as red and angry as the cassock he was wearing. His throat tensed, having to put a gloved hand over his mouth to prevent him from letting out a strangled grunt. He shouldn't. He really fucking shouldn't. He can't! But his free hand seems to have a mind of its own, already fisting his clothed erection before he could even attempt to talk himself out of it.

He felt sick. There he stood, palming himself over the sight of his best friend masturbating. His best friend, who was blissfully unaware of the pervert stroking himself on the other side of their door. You trusted him, and yet here he was, defiling your image with every stroke of his manhood. Surely, you'd be horrified if you knew. He only wished that his guilt was enough to stop him. He felt sick, yes indeed, but he also felt so, so fucking good.

Copia continued to rub his length stealthily, still unable to find the confidence to take it out of his trousers and stroke unabashedly. He prayed to Lucifer below that you didn't hear his heavy breathing over the sounds of your moans. He was never very good at keeping quiet. But you couldn't find out. He couldn't let you see him like this. You'd hate him, he's sure of it.

Little did he know, you had already spotted him. It caught you off guard at first, but before you could react by covering yourself in embarrassment, you noticed the lust in his eyes, his hand moving up and down over the sizable bulge in his pants. He hadn't noticed you caught a glimpse of him. It only heightened your arousal. You could have some fun with this, you thought, and continued to rub yourself at a faster pace, putting on a show for him. Moaning louder, writhing around, spreading your legs to give him a better view of your sex. Still, it's not enough.

Without any shift in your demeanour, you turned your head to the door, making eye contact with Copia. He froze, still as a statue, as if you wouldn't be able to see him as long as you didn't detect movement. "You're more than welcome to take your cock out, Cardinal. I'd hate for you to end up making a mess in those nice, tight pants of yours..." You say bluntly, and then go back to what you were doing as if nothing happened. Copia was dumbfounded. You knew? And you didn't care? In fact, you seemed to enjoy him watching? Fuck, he had to get his cock out now before he creamed in his pants.

Now that he knew you were aware of his presence, there was no more reason to be shy. He undoes his pants and jerks himself, trying to match your pace. He pushes the door a little further open to get a better look at you, and when he grows bold enough, he enters your room entirely, standing at the corner of your bed. Hell, what he wouldn't give to touch you right now. But no, you haven't given him permission, and he's lucky enough to have you be okay with this. Maybe one day he can feel you, he wishes. Besides, there's something so oddly hot about just watching you come undone by your own hand.

"Mmm, you enjoying the show, Cardinal?" You tease seductively, biting your lip, your eyes rolling back as jolts of pleasure rush towards your groin, growing dangerously close to reaching your sweet release. Copia nods dumbly, whining and whimpering unashamedly. Heavy blobs of pre-cum hit the floor as they flow from his pulsing cock. He needed to see you cum. He could only imagine what it would be like to see you cum from his cock.

He was so close to you, so close he could just reach out and take you if he had the balls to do so. The proximity was driving him insane, seeing every inch of your divine self, the intoxicating smell of your sweat and arousal in the air, so pungent it had him drooling. The moment you came, he had no choice but to follow suit, his body violently yanking an orgasm from him, knees buckling at the force. Coming down from his high, the two of you panting and heaving in sync, he focused his half-lidded eyes on you once again.

Belial, and he thought you were beautiful before. But looking at you, glowing in the aftermath of your orgasm, it's as if you were a blessing from Lucifer himself. Oh, how badly he wanted to lick you clean of your cum, to taste you on his tongue would grant him the greatest joy this world has to offer. The clarity of what had just occurred hit you both swiftly, staring at each other in uncomfortable silence, neither of you knowing what to say. You were the first to speak, after what felt like forever.

"So, uh... are we gonna talk about what just happened?" You ask unsteadily. Copia gulps somewhat comically, awkwardly stuffing his dick back in his pants. "I'm sorry." His voice quivers, the poor guy nearly in tears. "It wasn't right of me to barge in. It wasn't right of me to... to... I'm a terrible friend." You laugh. His head snaps up in confusion, giving you a look as if to ask, 'what's so funny?'

"Copia, I was touching myself to the thought of you long before you came in here. I'm a bad friend, too." Copia raises an eyebrow in surprise. He would've laughed too, if he wasn't so wracked with nerves. "So... what now?" He asks. "I mean, eh... what are we?" You chuckled once again at the absurdity of the situation. One would expect to hear that question coming from a teenage girl, not a 50 year old Cardinal of a satanic church.

"Well," you sigh, tossing him a towel for him to clean up the semen splattered across the hard-wood flooring. "We have the whole afternoon to figure that out."

-

[ghostmoon1]

You know what, to start the year off, Imma make this lil appreciation post.

Now it's only been like, less than a year since I joined Tumblr about, I've been writing and drawing for years before this point, but the community here, especially the CoD community which I am mainly apart of just made me feel amazing. Everyone I've met here are some of the nicest people.

I have gotten my old hobbies back, giving me reason to write and draw again which have majorly helped with my own mental health, and now I just wanted to give the amazing people a shout out to start the year off, to hopefully make peoples days, and to just let them know that I appreciate yall!

In no specific order :3 and if you don't wanna be pinged again by me, please let me know and I won't!! No harm done, I hope this is okay :) and this is prob gonna be cringe or smt.. all sappy but like.Yeah here yall are lmao-

Putting them under the cut as there are a few :3

@gomzdrawfr - You've been a massive influence since I joined the CoD community, I adored your art from the very start, and your just such a sweet and kind person, one that I'm so thankful to have met, and so proud to be able to call you my friend. You're the first proper friend I've made here, and I can't tell you how much our talks make me smile every single time. And I'm also so thankful for the community you have sorta helped me get into, you've helped me feel comfortable interacting with more people here :3

@shadeops21 - You were honestly the person that got me to join Tumblr! I was looking for something to try and make my own Konig cosplay (that's been given up on bc motivation and Tik Tok just. yeahhh) and I found you, and all your amazing work! I basically made my account to see if you'd make any more, cause I just love what you do so much, it's got to be so helpful for so many people!!

@sleepyconfusedpotato - After Shadeops, you were the very second person I found here! And oh my gosh how much I obsessed (and still do) over your art, especially Jade. You inspired me to write my first ever fic on here, actually, where I made my first CoD oc ship with Soap, your art and what you do honestly helped me feel comfortable making something like that for myself, cause some of the toxic people on Tik Tok made me uneasy and unsure about that lol- And now, I finally have an OC I'm working in depth on, and you're my biggest reason to thank for that.

@soaps-mohawk - Your writing has inspired me so much, and I couldn't thank you enough for making your wonderful fic. I may not be like, a OG, but I've been there since around chapter 20 I think? I could be wrong, but half way through sorta. You are the biggest reason I started writing again here, you just create masterpieces. And this is the first time I've ever been hooked into a fic so much, and what got me into liking the Omegaverse (you hooked me and I can't let go of it now...) Thank you for taking your time with your writing, and thank you for all the inspiration you have given me.

@on-a-lucky-tide - Oh my gosh how much you have yanked me into the Nikprice community. I adore every single one of your writing pieces, and honestly, you are another who has helped inspire me to write more. All your writing is so filled with emotion and love, I want to be able to do that as well. Your a wonderful person, I've seen you interact with this community and everyone, and I just adore you as a person and all the hard work you put time and effort into creating.

@rainyrambles-overcod - I adore your oc's and rambles so much!! And I couldn't tell you how happy it makes me to have a friend that is okay with the tag games, I never know who to tag for those sorta things, but I actually feel okay tagging you and they are so fun and always brighten my mood :3 Keep creating, I can't wait to see what else you come up with. Thank you for all the tag games and fun!!

@nekrosmos - Yet another that has helped drag me into the Nikprice community or cult ig that too. Your art is absolutely amazing, I truly want to be able to draw like you do. Just everything about your art has me in awe, the emotion, the style, the love everything. Seeing your art brings me so much happiness! Oh and your writing is BEAUTIFUL. That also brings me joy to take a little time out of my day to sit and read the time and effort you put into everything, and how kind of a person you are. I always hope you'll keep creating, and always remember how much joy you bring both myself and others.

@daredaredoodles - I know we don't interact a whole lot, but you honestly mean a lot to me still. You were my first ever mutual on this site, and I will be forever grateful for this. Personally its anxiety that stops me from barging into peoples Dm's and talking, but yeah. Thank you for that, even if it is only a small thing.

@cricricorner - you were my first follower, and I still see you in my notifications from time to time, which always brings me joy! It's wonderful to see your followers still interact with your content, and I couldn't say how grateful I am. I couldn't tell you how happy I was to gain my first follower here, so thank you for taking your time to read my writing and see my art.

@daydreamsareallineed - You were pretty much the first person to show so much interest in my main fic!! And oh my gosh I couldn't ever tell you how much joy it brought me to read your comments, to have someone so interested in my writing, that personally I didn't even think was that good. I haven't given up completely on the fic dw, I'll hopefully update it soon! Motivation just go brrr. Thank you so much for all your support, it means the world to me.

And another shoutout to everyone who supports me, who follows me, and to every single one of you that like and reblog my content. I look through every single note I receive, I assure you none of you are left out.

And my final shoutout to everyone that creates on this site. The community here is like nothing I've ever experienced before. I adore scrolling through everyone's art, it all makes my day. I've never felt so comfortable and unjudged before. Thank you to everyone who contributes to this, you all make my day <3

This turned out a lot longer than I meant it to be- but I just wanted to share how I felt with this new year. I'm sorry if you'd rather not be pinged-

But have a lovely day :3 I love you all!!

[magicalbats]

Kinktober 2024 Day 13: Sethos x Reader

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 6283

Warnings: Afab!reader, misogynistic practices/beliefs, sexual slavery, free use, forced betrothal, chastity device (female), public sex, sex outdoors, anal fingering, anal sex, anal creampie, exhibitionism, mentioned death of parents, noncon to dubcon

A/N: Sethos is honestly one of the most gorgeous characters I've ever seen tbh, his color palette is just stunning imo. Love this guy. 🤭 Just make sure to pay attention to the tags everyone!

⭐

If one were to ask the tribesmen of the desert what they liked about the inhospitable environment so much that they’d choose to stay, even when there was a perfectly comfortable rainforest just over the horizon, one was likely to receive a variety of different answers. Some might say that it was the only home they’d ever known and they were used to living there. Although true, it wasn’t an entirely honest response. 

Others might nudge their toe at the real reason by saying they liked the freedom that was allotted to them by living outside of the Dendro Archon’s dominion and the stuffy Akademiya’s reach. That was closer but still not entirely accurate. 

Yet other denizens of Sumeru’s expansive desert may even get down to the nitty gritty of it and proudly admit they thrived in the bloodthirsty conditions perpetuated by the lawless land. It was a dog eat dog world out there, and some people were simply far too unlikable to thrive in a polite society where their fists didn’t solve every problem they encountered. You liked this kind of person the least. 

In truth, you strongly suspected the real answer lied in the simplicity of the largely nomadic existence of the warrior peoples and not only when it came to problem solving matters. It was easy to understand that in order to eat you needed to work. Not so much when schooling suddenly came into question and you had to try to explain that investing in education now would result in an excess of mora to feed yourself with later. The same also applied to relationships. Why go to the trouble of courting a potential lover over time when you could simply take them by force and have them immediately? 

That’s what it boiled down to, you think. A natural aversion to rule following and a hard coded need for the freedom to live life at your own discretion. It wasn’t really any wonder then that the Eremite’s had managed to survive these past long decades with neither help or interference from the nation’s Archon. They were a stubborn lot. 

But that only applied to the people who were strong enough to back up their big talk, not someone like you. Taken in by the Temple of Silence as little more than an orphan turned slave and then promised to be their next leader's wife, you had neither freedom nor strength, and you certainly didn’t have the luxury of returning to the city in the rainforest where you were originally from. After your scholar parents died on a joint expedition out into the rolling sand dunes in an accident that left you wandering all alone in the barren wasteland, you had nothing to go back to anyway. Sometimes it felt like your fate had already been signed, sealed and dotted long before you were ever actually born and this lackluster existence was a foregone conclusion. 

Oh, how you wished you had a cock between your legs so you wouldn’t have to endure such unfair treatment just because you were a woman. 

Sethos was incredibly lucky in that regard. As your betrothed and future husband, you and him spent a lot of time together and you were always surprised at how much freedom he was actually given to do whatever he pleased. Of course not all of it had to do with his gender. As the next leader of the Temple and the adopted grandson of Bamoun, he was granted many allowances that even the other men simply didn’t have. 

But you still can’t help the pang of jealousy you feel while you watch him happily gallivant around with nary a care in the world beyond the simple matter of daily survival. His future was already laid out before him and he didn’t need to worry about securing his position since it had already been decided for him by the current leader. It was only a matter of time until Sethos took over for him, and then the two of you would be wed. 

The worst part was that he was exceptionally smart and had a quick wit that would put even some Akademiya alumni to shame despite his lack of formal education. You didn’t doubt for one second that he could have easily landed himself a spot in the prestigious school if he’d wanted to, if he’d just try, but that was not the fate the stars had laid out for him. 

Sighing under your breath, you drop your chin into the waiting palm of your hand as you watch the boys recklessly fool around with their hunting knives. Someone was going to get themselves hurt at this rate but you knew better than to nag at them by now. They never listened anyway, and your status as a slave meant they often took offense to being told anything they didn’t want to hear when it was coming from you. 

As usual you would just quietly observe their play sparring until one of them inevitably failed to move quick enough to avoid the swing of a blade and end up with a new scar to show for it. There was no reasoning with someone who didn’t want to be reasoned with. 

Sethos, at least, tended to be a little more agreeable in this regard. He wasn’t outright opposed to hearing you out even if he didn’t always like what you had to say, and he glances over at where you’re sitting at the sound of your quiet exhale. An easy going grin slides across his face and he turns to walk towards you, plopping down on the ground next to the little blanket you’ve got laid out in the sand. 

“Getting bored?” 

“I’ve been bored since we got here.” You tell him truthfully, but rather than taking it as disrespect like some others might have he just throws his head back to laugh. 

“Yeah, I guess girls don’t usually get much out of watching a couple of guys mess around with knives. Would you have liked to stay back at the temple instead?” 

“Why, so I could knit yet another shirt for you?” Internally cursing the vague sting of tears that comes into your eyes, you turn your head so you won’t have to look at him any longer. Picking up a small rock covered in sand grit from the ground, you focus all of your attention on it instead. “I know this is just how life is out here, but there’s not much to do. Your grandfather doesn’t even let me have any books to read. He says I need to focus on learning how to be a good wife for you, not filling my head with ideas.” 

And you hated it. You hated it so much you felt like you could just scream and throw a fit sometimes. Both of your parents had been accomplished graduates of the Akademiya and they’d instilled a love for learning in you from a very young age. You were supposed to be studying for tests and working on a thesis, setting up internships in your chosen field, not this. 

That was the only reason you’d even been out here with them when the accident happened. To learn and pick up on skills that would help you once you were admitted to Teyvat’s most acclaimed and celebrated academy. Who could have ever guessed you'd never again step foot outside of the dry, arid desert at the onset of that trip? 

And you don’t make any qualms about your feelings on the matter, nor do you try to hide the fact you’re unhappy. You’ve had this conversation with Sethos many times over the last handful of years since you found yourself in the care of the Temple of Silence but it never seemed to do you any good talking to him about it. 

Just as every other time, he falls silent for a brief moment as if he were thinking it over before at last drawing a carefully measured breath to speak. 

“I’m sorry things turned out this way for you. I’d change it if I could. But I’ll find you some books when we get back later, how does that sound?” 

“And Bamoun will just take them away again.” 

“Then I’ll find some more books for you. And when I take over from grandfather I can call the shots. You’ll have as many books as you want, habibti.” 

“Don’t call me that.” You hiss, shooting him a quick but not less viscous look of warning. 

Sethos just smiles right back at you though, completely unperturbed by your aversion to his favored pet name for you. The bright green of his eyes dances before you even in the shade of the rocky outcrop your small group had stopped at, as if the irises were lit from within with some unnamed mischief he was concocting. 

It’s a little cooler here than out in the glaring sunlight but not cold enough to warrant the icy chill that snakes down your spine. That particular look from him rarely meant anything good. 

“But you are my habibti. It only makes sense for me to call you that, doesn’t it?” 

“I don’t want - -“ 

He cuts off your rattling protest when he reaches over to take your hand in his, snagging your fingers before you can think to pull them away. You startle slightly at the sudden contact even as you stamp down the urge to wrench free of his hold, knowing it wouldn’t do you any good to try. Sethos could at times be the most stubborn person you’d ever known and his tenacity was limitless. If he decided he wanted to hold your hand then that was what he was going to do. 

“I know, I know.” He croons at you, keeping his voice soft and hushed as if he were coaxing a skittish animal to warm up to him. “This isn’t the life you would have chosen for yourself if you’d had the chance, and that’s okay. But what’s done is already done. We’ll be husband and wife someday soon so that makes you my habibti. Getting upset about it won’t change that, will it?” 

You draw a sharp breath, instinctively readying to fight him on that, but the words catch in your throat. Not only because you already knew it would be useless and no amount of talking on your part ever seemed to convince Sethos that this wasn’t right, but also because of the steady way he just keeps smiling at you. Like his confidence on the matter was so resolute and unfaltering that even if you did try to plead your case it wouldn’t have any affect on his belief in these simple facts. And that’s exactly what it was. Simple fact. 

It really was a lost cause. He’d already made up his mind long ago that this was just the way things were and you were going to be his wife. No ifs, ands or buts about it.

The fight promptly drains from you at that realization, leaving you feeling hollow and decidedly bereft of even enough energy to keep drawing air into your lungs. There was no point in fighting it. 

“No, it won’t.” You murmur at last, earning a brief squeeze to your fingers. 

“See? Then there’s nothing to be mad about. I don’t blame you for not liking all the trouble the elders put you through. I wouldn’t enjoy their knitting or cooking lessons either. That’s why I wanted to bring you out here today so you could get a break from them.” 

Feeling a little guilty for your behavior now, you drop your attention to look down at your lap. “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t take it out on you.” 

“That’s alright,” He tells you softly. “But I have noticed you’ve been getting more and more irritable lately. You know I don’t like to see you like this, habibti. Do you need me to tend to you like last time?” 

Your stomach wrenches so suddenly and so aggressively you almost feel nauseous with the abrupt rush of dread that settles over you. It’s a violent subconscious reaction that is at complete and total odds with how casually unassuming the question had been. 

Stiffening up to sit ramrod straight, you tersely give your captured hand a yank but he holds fast. You’d known better, of course, but — 

“No. Not here, Sethos! Don’t - -“ 

Softly shushing you again, he scoots closer to join you on the edge of the blanket as his opposite hand comes up to reach for your face. You quickly snap your head away from him but this does you no good either. He just curls his strong, roughly calloused fingers over your cheek so he can force your attention back around to look at him. Although gentle about it, he’s so demanding in the way he nudges you that you have no choice but to comply.

And the tears you’d worked so hard to force back immediately spring up full force to make your vision swim. Sucking in a wet, faltering breath, you pleadingly peer over at your future husband, begging him to spare you the embarrassment of what he was suggesting. The other men were still only a few yards away playing their silly game, they’d see everything! 

“Please. I don’t want to do it. I - I don’t like it, I really don’t.” 

“I’m not sure I believe that, beautiful. You were so good for me the last time and well behaved too. Even grandfather remarked on how obedient you were.” Tenderly stroking his thumb across your skin, Sethos peers into your face with that confident, knowing little grin. “It’s okay, don’t fret now. I understand that you can be irrational at times but we know just how to fix that, don’t we?” 

Your lower lip sadly warbles as he guides you into a nodding motion, encouraging compliance even when you’d rather do anything else than agree to this. But there wasn’t much you could do to actually fight it. Between being a prisoner of the Temple of Silence, functionally nothing more than a slave, and as his promised future bride, you simply didn’t have the privilege of choice. No matter how much you wanted to tell him ‘no’ and kick, and spit until he finally gave up on the idea, you just couldn’t do that. 

So you merely sit there when he leans into you, letting him slot his mouth over yours with only a tiny little whimper to show for it. The way he kisses you is just as sure and confident as everything else he does, leaving you with no choice but to reluctantly give in to the demanding push and pull of his lips. He wanted you to reciprocate and so you do. 

And when he slides his hand down off your cheek to deliberately push at your shoulder, indicating he wanted you to lie back, you do that too. Stiff and halting, you gingerly ease yourself down to the ground while Sethos follows after you so he can keep claiming your mouth for himself. 

Once he’s got you laid out next to him, he lets his topmost hand wander to firmly grope over your chest and give the tits underneath your clothes a savory squeeze. You can’t help squirming against him at the immediate rush of sensation you feel while his surprisingly big hands knead over the fleshy swells until you can’t quite stop yourself from bringing your thighs together in a listless press. He did indeed make you feel good when he touched like this and if he’d just leave it at that you probably wouldn’t have been so opposed to it. 

But he eventually grabs hold of your hip to direct you to roll half of the way over, which you shudderingly do to leave your ass pressed into his hip. Still hungrily kissing you, Sethos rather unceremoniously starts to gather your long skirt so he can hike it up around your waist and expose your lower body to the air. It’s not overly comfortable lying like that, with your hips twisted around to grant him the access he sought and your neck craned back to give him your mouth, but you have no choice in this either. 

All you can do is helplessly lie there while he hooks a hand under the bend of your topmost knee so he can pull it wide to hook over his leg. That leaves the spot between your thighs completely exposed and vulnerable, and you shudder fiercely when he reaches down to smooth his fingers over your cunt. 

Except it is not flesh and blood he touches but rather the cool metal of the gilded chastity device you were forced to wear. It was lightweight and flexible enough to move with your body, yet also sturdy enough to discourage any attempt at removing the barrier by force. Not even Sethos had the key to the little lock keeping it snugly in place where it fed down from the band that was tightly secured around your middle. Only Bamoun had the power to free you from the physical manifestation of your servitude, and he would give that same power over to your betrothed on the night of your wedding. But until then you were made to wear it day in and day out, permitted only to take it off to bathe once in the morning and once at night. 

Your one and only consolation in this matter was that at least Bamoun didn’t personally handle the tediously dehumanizing routine himself and instead handed off the key to one of the other female hand servants to take care of. It wasn’t much of a compromise when you really thought about it but at least that saved you the humiliation of having the old man’s hands all over you, touching you where you really did not want to be touched.

But in the here and now when Sethos is lightly brushing his fingers over the strip of gold plated metal, you find yourself sensitively trembling for him all the same. You couldn’t feel anything at all through the chastity belt but the visual alone is enough to make your pussy flood with overly eager, long neglected slick. Even if you weren’t particularly happy about it, you were still keen to be touched there and you did like Sethos enough not to curse him for it. 

Groaning a breathy, threadbare sound, you fist your nearest hand in the front of his shirt and jut your pelvis up towards his fingers. It didn’t matter if it was an effort in futility or not when you were so desperate for any stimulation at all that you felt nearly delirious with it at just the slightest suggestion. No one had ever touched you there before, not even yourself. Not like this. You’d only been at the very onset of puberty when you ended up here and the realization that you were a virgin was in part what had made Bamoun decide to marry you off to his grandson. 

He’d said he wanted to keep it like that, to make sure you stayed pure and intact until the time came for Sethos to bed you, but in taking away anyone else’s access to your body he’d also taken away yours. There was only a small hole cut out of the otherwise perfectly smooth plate that allowed you to urinate through it but nothing else. It wasn’t even adequately big for you to slip one of your fingers inside. 

The only point of entry was further back where the plate ended and the securing metal chord started. The entire contraption was much too snug against you where it fed up between your ass cheeks to move it very much, but there was just enough give for him to shift the thin chain aside and gain entry. 

And that’s exactly what he does now, stretching his fingers down over your cunt to brush against the pucker of your hole when he hooks them into the chain. A low, faltering mewl tumbles out of your mouth when he nudges it as far as it will go to leave your anus completely exposed, and you jolt when you catch a masculine snicker off in the near distance. 

You knew the other men must have been glancing over and probably elbowing each other over it but you couldn’t bring yourself to look. Instead you just screw your eyes shut and suck in one ragged breath after another, jittery panic gripping you tight while Sethos lightly runs his finger back and forth over the puffy wrinkle. 

“Shh, just relax. Don’t worry about them right now,” He whispers against your cheek, soft yet unrelenting at the same time. “Focus on me, habibti. There you go. Deep breaths.” 

Struggling just to keep your head on straight, you blearily let your head loll back against the ground and attempt to follow his instructions. The shift makes the tears in your eyes dislodge themselves from your lash line, letting them dribble wet tracks down your face to fall off into the sand. 

There was something inherently wrong about this too, of that you were certain. You’d never seen such flagrant public displays of human sexuality before coming here and the lack of shame so many of the men seemed to have about it had frightened you a great deal at first. It seemed any woman who was not strong enough to defend herself from their advances was free game but as Sethos’ betrothed you weren’t even really permitted to fight back. His right to your body was absolute and unquestionable, regardless of the time or the place. And since you were still technically an intact virgin in their eyes, doing it this way didn’t even earn the disapproval of his grandfather. 

Sethos’ cleverness was unmatched though so it didn’t really come as a great surprise that he would find a suitable workaround for this. But that doesn’t make it any easier for you to accept this sort of treatment or come to terms with it when every single alarm bell was going off in the back of your mind. If it was just him you might have been more amenable — would have been when you were so easily riled up due to years of neglect, but you didn’t want the others to see you like this! 

“Oh no, no, albee. Don’t cry. I’m here, don’t worry. I’ll have you all sorted out in no time, I promise.” 

He shifts against you then, hand falling away to reach back for something tucked away in his sash. You had a few guesses what it might be, of course, and you just lie there sniffling sadly to yourself while he fumbles behind you for a moment before settling in again. 

Cautiously lifting your head, you take care not to look too far ahead and instead focus in on Sethos’ hand and the little glass vial he’s thumbing open. You’ve been through this enough times with him to know it’s sticky olive oil thickly sloshing around inside, though he’d at times also used other kinds of impromptu lubricants when the need arose. This kind of oil was his favorite though for its effectiveness and you find that you’re a little relieved to see he had some on hand. You weren’t sure you could properly relax your muscles when you were all but thrumming like an active livewire in this humiliating situation, but the oil should at least ensure you don’t tear. 

Still murmuring soft nothings to you, Sethos reaches down again and carefully upends the small bottle to allow a healthy dollop to ooze out. It lands almost smack dab in the center of your asshole and you hiss a seething sound while he sets the vial aside where it wouldn’t get knocked over. 

Then he’s bringing his hand back down to eagerly rub the pads of his fingers through the clinging oil, working it into your skin. Even just that much feels good, you’re mortified to realize, and you reluctantly start to give in to the attention grabbing ache in your gut that demands you seek pleasure in some form. 

While you weren’t exactly pleased to be doing this out in the open, right in front of his friends, there was no use denying that his logic in this was reasonable. You had been soothed to complacency the last time he did this to you, and the time before that, and the one before that as well. It was the closest thing to a stress reliever you could get out here when you were neither permitted to touch your own cunt or pick up a curved scimitar for you to swing around. 

Even Sethos didn’t trust you that much to let you get your hands on a weapon, and that was probably for the best. 

So you just make do with softly groaning through the tears tracking down your face as he works over the puffed up rim of your entrance, encouraging you to relax into it with gentle words spoken against your cheek between the kisses he places there. Not for the first time you think that Sethos will make for a very fine lover someday and you were probably lucky in that regard, but you still wished you could have chosen to be with him instead of having it decided for you. 

You probably would have chosen him too, in all honesty. 

“Does that feel good, beautiful?” He murmurs, prompting you to nudge your chin in a faltering nod. 

“Y - yes. Will you … stick it in?” 

“If that’s what you want me to do.” 

He starts to lean further over you as if to fully cage you in underneath him but the shuffle of boots in the sand immediately brings his head back up. Squeaking a horrified sound, you shyly bring your hands up to cover your flustered face but even with an audience watching Sethos just keeps rubbing his sticky fingers across your puckered hole as if this were a totally normal, everyday occurrence. 

“Sorry to interrupt, boss. Rahid hurt himself trying to show off so we’re going to bandage him up real quick. You want us to start a fire and make a quick lunch or …” 

The ‘are you too busy fingering your future bride’ goes unspoken but the other man doesn’t really need to say it at that point. You can hear it clearly in his voice, and you whimper a dire tinged sound when Sethos starts to press in on the center of the slackened wrinkle to tease you with the suggestion of penetration. 

“Yeah, you guys just relax for a while. We’ll be done soon.” 

“You got it.” 

As his footsteps start to retreat, you slowly lower your fingers to peer up at Sethos with a teary eyed look. “This is why I said not here …”

“Aw, come on. No harm, no foul, right? They’ve all seen worse.” Carelessly shrugging off your concerns as usual, Sethos pins you with the sparkling green of his eyes and leans into you again. “Besides, once we’re married I can have you anywhere I want and it won’t just be your cute ass I have access to then. Might as well get used to it now, huh?” 

“You’re awful.” 

Laughing quietly under his breath, he starts to put a bit more pressure on your entrance and you gasp when that finger starts to slip inside. One measly inch at a time, it forces your inner sleeve to expand and open up for him until he can sheathe it in you straight down to the knuckle. Squeezing your eyes shut, you let out a low, warbling sound of pleasure, but both of you already knew that it wasn’t enough. You’d been through this too many times for a single digit to stretch you out the way you wanted to be stretched. 

Gradually sliding his hand back until just the tip of his finger remains wedged inside your puffy rim, Sethos slowly pushes back in with two this time. As he settles in to fuck you with them, you outright seethe at the sensation as much as at the sticky wet clicks he pulls from your asshole on each upward plunge. Your body greedily sucks at them and tries to take him in deeper but there’s nowhere else for him to go with his knuckles already flush to your skin. 

So he soon adds a third to really stretch your hole open and it puts so much delicious pressure on your squeezing guts that you almost manage to forget where you are. 

Hissing a vicious sound, you blindly reach down to curl your hand over the metal plate as if to rub yourself but of course you can’t. You just find your fingers impotently pawing over the spot where your cunt should have been while the sticky sensation of building slick seeps out of you to make a mess along the interior of it. It’s so frustrating that you could almost scream, and Sethos quickly hunches close to press his mouth against your temple when you become increasingly more agitated. 

“Shhh. Just relax, habibti. We’ll have that off of you in no time and then I’ll play with your little pussy as much as you want, okay?” 

“Please … stick it in, Sethos, I can’t take it anymore.” 

Rumbling a low sound of pleasure, he carefully withdraws his fingers from your ass to leave it clenching around nothing while he works to get his pants unfastened. Panting heavily and clutching the front of his shirt in a death grip, you dazedly tip your head to watch him reach for the olive oil again. Another small drop directly to your asshole is quickly followed by a generous portion to his rigid cock which he pumps a few times to smear the copious liquid over it. 

Then he’s finally nudging himself right up against you, using his hand to guide his length to your waiting entrance. The other wedges itself under your back to come up around on the other side, clutching you so tightly against him you can scarcely breathe. Angling his narrow hips up, he presses the fleshy head into you and begins to push inside, making your mouth drop open on a silent scream. 

It felt good. So, so much better than his fingers had, and the immediate rush of ecstasy has you weakly shaking in his arms. The vibration of his masculine groan right next to your head all but has you seeing double and your head drunkenly lolls back while he works himself deeper, basking in the gradual stretch of your hole. 

And he doesn’t wait for you to adjust, knowing you were already sufficiently loosened for him from all the other times you’d previously done this. He just starts thrusting, keeping his strokes evenly drawn out and steady to really make you feel the drag of him against your guts. You’re hyper aware of your sphincter weakly clinging to his length on the way out only to be forced back in on the next upward push and it drives you positively wild. 

Especially when he latches onto your softly moving breast with the hand he’d wedged under your back, playing with the stiff nipple right through your shirt. Outright squealing in pleasure now, you fitfully buck your hips to push down on him and meet his plunging cock head on, earning another faltering groan from him. 

“Good girl. Oooughn, that’s a good girl, beautiful. You like that? Huh? Like having my cock that deep in your ass?” 

“Oh! God … h - harder, Sethos, please!” 

A rattling breath puffs out of him in response but he obliges, working his flexing hips more vigorously to really drive himself into your softly squelching ass. The sharp sound of skin smacking against skin rises louder in the air as he drills into you with enough force to really make your tits bounce now. And his other hand quickly comes up to fumble with the hem of your top, shoving it out of the way to expose your chest. 

Keening a delighted sound when he bends his head close to capture one of the bobbing nipples in his mouth, you carefully bring your head up to peer out over the sand dune. Sure enough, his friends are sitting around a small campfire some few yards away and they were definitely still within ear shot. But their attention largely remains locked ahead, focusing on whatever they were busying themselves with rather than the sordid display happening just behind them, and you’re reminded once again how different the rules of the desert actually are compared to that of the rainforest. Something like this would never fly in Sumeru City, surely. 

But here it’s as if it’s so commonplace that even your shrill feminine cries don’t draw their glances. It was just as Sethos said. They’d seen much worse, had heard much worse and had likely done much worse themselves. Watching you get your ass stretched out on Sethos’ cock wasn’t even all that interesting to them, evidently. 

Mewling a frazzled sound, you let your head fall back as you blindly reach down for your cunt again. Even knowing it’s an effort in futility isn’t quite enough to stop you from trying to follow through on the instinctive compulsion, and a pitiful whimper escapes you when your fingers just glance over cool, unfeeling metal. You could tell you were positively soaked through though, and you would be glad to return to the Temple to bathe. 

But luckily you still feel the internal pressure within you steadily building even without being able to play with your pussy to help it along. Sethos does an excellent job of that between his pistoning cock and the concerted efforts of his mouth and hands on your tits. It’s almost as if in not being able to derive any pleasure from your cunt, every other erogenous zone on your body was all the more sensitive for it. Your nipples achingly throb in time with the rhythmic pulse in your ass, mirroring your wild heartbeat thrice over, and it doesn’t take long for you to reach the tipping point like this. 

What finally sends you over the edge is Sethos, in all his cunning wisdom, taking pinching hold of both stiff teats and giving them a sharp twist. You plaintively squeal, back bowing dramatically to angle your pelvis just right to have him jabbing up at the perfect spot inside your guts. You cum with a violent shudder, wailing a stricken sound as your ass sporadically squeezes around him to milk everything it could get out of the orgasm. 

That warm flutter of your walls squeezing around him seems to all but steal the oxygen right out of Sethos’ lungs and he wheezes, lurching against you with a wounded groan. His thrusts turn sloppy and uneven while he chases that pinprick high until he cums too, giving a sudden, fitful jerk to accompany the twitch of his cock where it’s buried deep inside you. 

You haven’t even had enough time to recover from your own release yet and the sensation of him shooting off in your ass, painting your interior creamy and white, pulls an overwrought sound from your rattling chest. But then it’s over, just like that, and the two of you lay there for a long moment, panting against one another as the endorphin buzz settles over you. 

Finally lifting his head to look you in the face again, Sethos reaches up to thoughtlessly push all that excess of thick hair back over his shoulder where it had started to slide forward. “Feeling any better now?” 

It takes a good deal of effort not to roll your eyes but you abstain for the simple fact that … you did feel better, actually. “I hate to admit it and run the risk of further inflating your ego, but yes. I do. Are you happy?” 

“Very.” He grins at you, leaning close to give the end of your nose a quick, playful kiss. “You’re always a much better listener when your body is happy.”

You can’t help but frown slightly at that. “What do you mean? I always listen to you. It’s not like I really have much of a choice.”

“Well, yes, but there’s a difference between listening and listening, if you know what I mean. Come on. You’re smart. You get what I’m trying to say, right?” 

“I suppose so. What did you want to say then?” 

Humming a soft little sound under his breath, Sethos pushes up on his elbow so he can look down at you, smiling that deceptively unassuming smile again. “I just wanted you to know that I understand where you’re coming from. Really, I do. I’d be pretty unhappy too if I were in your shoes, but we don’t need to make this any harder than it needs to be. Once I take over for grandfather, I’ll be happy to give you all the freedom you want. I wouldn’t even mind if you wanted to go back to the rainforest sometime.” 

Your eyes go big and round, so caught off guard by what he’s saying that for a long moment you’re not quite sure what to say. Was he serious or … was this some sort of cruel trap? 

“Really? You actually mean that?” 

“Mhm! You’d just have to promise to come back, that’s all. You’ll still be my wife, you know.”

⭐

Crossposted: here

[m00nsbaby]

Do you want me (dead)?

Jake Lockley x F! Reader.

Tags & warnings. College AU, no mentions of Marc or Steven, explicit, +18, oral sex (m receiving), cum eating, no use of y/n.

Word count. 3.5k

Summary. He was childish. Unbearable.

It was as if he had a magnet to you, always bothering you, finding a way to ruin your day in some manner. 

You were going to kill Jake Lockley at any moment.

You decided not to blame anyone else but yourself for your bad mood. It had been a conscious choice to only get two hours of sleep due to your sudden desire for a movie marathon by yourself.

You didn't have many friends; you exchanged words with a couple of people, if you were lucky. On any given day, you would arrive, attend class, and then spend the rest of your time alone somewhere else. So, on a Wednesday morning, you could afford to rest your arms on your desk and hide your face there, dozing off until the class started.

Or at least, that was the plan.

"Cariño." If you were a cat, that single word would have been enough to make your fur stand on end. You didn't even bother lifting your head to see who was by your side.

He cleared his throat louder. "Cariño."

When you raised your hand to show him your middle finger, he smiled satisfactorily. Jake was content with getting even a gram of your attention. There was a personal pleasure in getting under your skin, as if his day got 200 times better.

"Did you sleep well?" He was going to keep pushing until he got more from you. "I slept amazingly, actually. Last night, I found a video where..."

"I'm not interested, Lockley." You growled, finally raising your head.

"There she is." You wanted to wipe that cocky smile off his face with a punch. You could only hope that one day he would annoy the wrong person, and someone else would take care of the dirty work. "As beautiful as always."

"I hate you."

"Ouch, my heart." He placed a hand over his chest, still smiling.

"Go to..."

"Good morning, everyone!" You nibbled on your lower lip to avoid screaming over the professor about how much you wished a truck would run over Jake Lockley.

At least with this, you were free of him for the next three hours.

It wasn't long before a poorly folded note landed on your desk.

Hey :)

With your index finger, you pushed the note, letting it fall to the floor.

Heyyyyy!!!

The next one also landed on the floor.

Hey, hey, hey, hey

You caught a glimpse of what looked like a poorly drawn cat. Next paper to the floor.

You didn't even bother opening the next one.

"Professor?" Hearing him speak again made you lift your gaze, wondering what nonsense he would come up with this time. "We have a trash bin in the classroom for a reason, right?" As he said this, he pointed at you and then at the papers on the floor.

"No, no, no! I didn't..."

"You two again?" The professor pressed the bridge of his nose with his fingers as he sighed heavily. His gaze landed on you almost immediately. "Get out of my class."

"But..."

"Out." After a few seconds of silence, you realized he was serious, and you had no choice but to make as much noise as possible with your belongings while standing up.

"Go to hell, Lockley." You said loudly, eliciting a collective 'uhhh' from the group. If you were already in trouble, it was better to have a good reason.

"You're staying for..."

"Detention, yes, yes." You growled as you slammed the classroom door.

You could still feel Jake's gaze on you, along with his triumphant smile. You didn't cross paths with him for the rest of the day.

It seemed that the next day fate was on your side because there were no signs of life from him.

Classes passed as boring as ever, in fact, even more so now that you had no one to argue or talk with. 

It was quieter without him around. Well, the good side was that you were finally free to go home.

You had no choice but to cross the edge of the football field to leave school. Both hands were in your pockets, and you had your earphones on. You were almost thanking God for getting through another day without Jake Lockley.

Almost.

At the last row of stands, there was someone. It wasn't uncommon, and you would have done your best to avoid them, except this time you recognized who it was even with his face hidden in his hands.

You rolled your eyes when you realized you couldn't even have a single day of peace.

Fortunately, not even the sound of footsteps caught his attention. In fact, it left you more intrigued how loudly he was breathing. Perhaps today was the day he finally crossed paths with the wrong person and got put in place.

You shrugged to yourself and kept walking, but your chest decided it didn't agree with you.

What if something had happened to him? Was he crying?

"Keep walking, keep walking, keep walking," you thought to yourself when your legs wouldn't move any further.

Ugh.

You retraced your steps.

"Are you okay?" It came out in a stronger tone than you would have liked.

When he lifted his head from his hands, your stomach churned. You always thought you'd enjoy the day someone finally gave Jake Lockley what he deserved, but this felt horrible.

He nodded silently when he realized it was you.

There was a cut along the bridge of his nose and another on his eyebrow. Blood was flowing from one of his nostrils and reached his lips, all on top of a black eye.

His response should have been enough for you to continue your way, but...

"You don't look good."

He laughed, not genuinely, but one of those laughs you give automatically when someone tries to cheer you up in the worst moments, even though you weren't joking.

"You should've seen the other guy." You didn't smile.

He was a jerk, even in this situation.

You hesitated a few seconds before making your decision. You took a seat next to him on the stands, close enough for your leg to brush against his.

You were silent for what felt like an eternity. Jake didn't even bother to look at you, but at least he wasn't hiding in his hands anymore; he was watching the field as if the grass were the most interesting thing on planet Earth.

"Can I see?" you whispered after a while.

"Huh?"

"Your face. Can I see?" He finally turned to you in silence, and you did the same, daring to look at him. If you noticed any hint of him about to give you that stupid smug grin he always had, you'd make him regret it even more.

But no. Those huge brown eyes were fixed on you as if he were a lost puppy.

You used your right hand to gently hold his chin, lifting his head slightly to search for any other injuries. Fortunately, there didn't seem to be more than what you noticed at first glance.

You pulled the sleeve of your sweater enough to cover part of your hand, which was such a light shade of pink it could pass for white, though you didn't care as you used the fabric to wipe away the blood running from his nose.

If only you had been aware of how Jake's heart was racing.

You licked the fabric slightly to dampen it when you noticed the blood had started to dry.

"Is this why you didn't go to class?" You tried to fill the silence that was starting to make you nervous.

He nodded without saying anything more. You never thought you'd wish to hear his annoying voice.

"Was it a fight?" Another nod. Well, knowing there was no one else bothering him was enough to give you some relief. You kept cleaning. Under his nose and upper lip. The wounds looked less dramatic without so much blood.

"Done."

He licked his lips, cleaning off any remaining blood. You adjusted your backpack on your shoulder when you finally stood up.

"It's late, Jake. Go home." you whispered. You didn't care if it seemed like you were talking to yourself. You didn't wait for a response before walking away, or at least taking two steps before his voice stopped you.

"Hey." You spun on your own feet to look at him. "Thanks, cariño."

You smiled; you couldn't have stopped it even if you wanted to.

"See you tomorrow." It was the last thing you said before continuing to walk.

And yes, you did see him the next day, against your will.

The following days were torturous for both him and you, as Jake set out to annoy you in new ways.

He asked you at least 4 times if you would spend some time with him after school, like a date or in any situation. He simply took your concern for him as a way of saying, "Maybe I don't hate you as much as you think."

You were on the verge of exploding.

You were tangling the cable of your laptop when you noticed a silhouette in front of you. You didn't have to look up to know who it was.

It was just the two of you in the classroom now that everyone had left.

"What do you want, Lockley?" You didn't look up as you packed your charger into your backpack.

"I want to know if we can hang out after school," his tone was firm, more than usual.

"I already told you, Jake, in how many languages do you want me to say it? Fortunately, it's the same in Spanish or I doubt you'd understand," you were not in the mood, not today, not now, and especially not after having rejected his invitations several times before.

"I just want to buy you an ice cream, cariño. Or do you prefer a smoothie? A frappe?" The poor guy was desperate.

"I don't want anything." You finally turned to face him with a frown, adjusting your backpack on your shoulder.

"¿Por qué tienes que portarte como una idiota conmigo?"

"I understood it, you enormous jerk!" Your voice rose almost immediately as you pushed his chest to keep him away. "We're not friends, Jake, we're nothing. I can't stand you, and you can't stand me either. What happened the other day was just some human empathy."

Your index finger kept hitting his chest again and again as you spoke, your frown remained deep.

In Jake's eyes, you looked nothing more than an annoyed kitten, hissing when someone gets too close.

"So leave me alone, seriously, because I swear if you keep this up, I'm going to..." You couldn't continue speaking because his lips were on yours, devouring them like a starving man.

Your eyes opened in surprise just seconds before you succumbed to his delicious taste of mint and cigarettes. Your hands slowly traveled up his chest until they reached his shoulders, which you held onto when your legs weakened.

It wasn't fair that he was such a good kisser.

He moved forward slowly, guiding you until your body was pressed against one of the walls of the classroom. His hands were hooked onto your waist as if you were going to run away at any moment.

You had no intention of doing that; your mind was genuinely somewhere else. However, after eliciting a delicious moan from the guy in front of you by biting his lower lip, your thoughts were momentarily disrupted.

"Please, hermosa." he whispered with a husky voice as his kisses trailed down your chin. "Please, just one date."

You couldn't hate him more. How could he do this to you?

Your eyes were closed as you tilted your head to the side, guiding Jake to your neck. You nodded without saying anything.

A moan escaped your lips when you felt him bite your skin, sucking with enough force to leave a mark.

"Fuck, Lockley," you whispered with heavy breaths as he pulled away from your neck. That stupid cocky smile. Ugh.

"Then I'll see you this afternoon." You hated him. Really, you hated him, just as much as you hated his ridiculous and soft lips now coated with your strawberry-flavored lip gloss.

"Fine." You wished your mouth had expressed what you felt, but your body was acting faster than you."

He picked you up in his car, and you would have preferred to jump out of it while it was still moving than admit that there was something about being in Jake Lockley's car that made you feel... special, especially after hearing him call it 'baby' more than once.

The car smelled like leather, cigarettes, and his cologne.

"You look beautiful." You rolled your eyes with a smile as he got in on the opposite side of the car.

"Thanks, Jake." If you were going to spend so many hours together, the least you could do was try to make it tolerable for both of you. However, you remained on guard for any stupid remarks that might come out of his mouth.

"So, ice cream?"

"I love the vanilla ice cream from McDonald's."

"McDonald's it is, then."

Was it because it was him, or were you just easily impressed to feel delighted with an invitation for a one-dollar ice cream?

"Are you going to tell me why you got beaten up the other day?"

"I didn't get beaten up." He rolled his eyes as he placed a hand on your seat to look back, reversing the car.

Oh, that was...

Oh.

"Well." You imitated his disgusted gesture. "Why did they fight you then?"

"It was over something stupid. Can we talk about something else?"

"And what could you and I talk about?"

"About school?"

"Boring." When he stopped at the drive-thru, you remained silent, smiling.

"Two vanilla ice creams, and... do you want something else?" Was this what it felt like to be the passenger princess?

"Fries."

"And some fries."

"Have you ever eaten fries with ice cream?" You asked as he drove forward to receive his ridiculously small order.

"Together? No." He frowned as he looked in his wallet for the exact 3 dollars to pay the girl at the window. "That's disgusting."

Receiving your ice cream made you confirm that this was what it felt like to be a passenger princess.

"Or maybe you just have terrible taste." You also received the fries.

You would have never imagined that Jake Lockley's idea of a date was sitting in his car, chatting and eating fast food, but you weren't complaining. He was doing an excellent job of making you feel comfortable.

You didn't even notice when the sun set, and the McDonald's parking lot emptied, leaving just the two of you.

"Jake? They'll worry at home, it’s late."

"Sorry, cariño! I didn't even notice." He quickly started the car, and you laughed because you would have never imagined that a guy like him would care about what your parents might say.

You sighed heavily as you got back into your seat. If only the day lasted longer.

And if only the way home was longer.

He opened the door for you just as he did when you got in, and you smiled in thanks. You turned on your heels to face him after stepping onto the sidewalk; you needed the extra inches to be able to look him in the eyes.

"Thanks for driving me," you whispered as he took a step closer to you.

"You're welcome, cariño."

"And thanks for the ice cream."

"You're welcome, cariño." he repeated, trying not to laugh.

"And the fries." His hands found your waist as he pulled you closer, keeping you on the edge of the curb.

"You're welcome, cariño." He finally laughed before leaning in just enough to leave a chaste kiss on your lips.

"See you tomorrow." Another kiss, short and gentle.

Both of you went to bed with the most ridiculous smiles on your faces.

You were looking around nervously, feeling a pit in your stomach at the mere idea of running into Jake. How should you approach him this time? Did you want to deal with the curious stares from your classmates?

Well, you didn't have to look for an answer because a hand pulling your arm took you out of your reverie. Before you could react, you found yourself locked inside the janitor's closet, and once again, you were about to kill Jake Lockley.

"Jake... What the fuck?" You said with almost disappointment. Just when you thought he couldn't annoy you any more.

There was no response from him. The only thing you got from him was the most desperate kiss you had ever received. His tongue was exploring every inch of you while you tried not to knock over the stack of mops and brooms next to you.

"I missed you," was all he could say between kisses. You wondered if he had always been this intense or if it was his strange fixation on you.

You pulled away for a moment to catch your breath, looking at him. Bright brown eyes, flushed cheeks, and lips now pink from kissing you.

Maybe you didn't hate him as much as you had sworn.

"Can you lock the door?" you whispered, looking at him with your lower lip between your teeth. Maybe it would be fair to give back some of the mistreatment you've put him through lately, while he looks at you with so much admiration.

Maybe he deserved it.

He stretched out a hand to obey you, when the 'click' resounded in the small closet, your hands immediately went to his jeans, you unbuttoned them without looking away.

“¿C-cariño?"

"Shhh, do you want to get caught?" You questioned with a smile that nearly made Jake faint.

You pulled his jeans down enough to free his erection, still covered by his boxers. You gathered saliva in your mouth before running your tongue along it to moisten his underwear, all without taking your eyes off of his.

He exhaled heavily causing a smile in you. You licked over the top of the cloth again a few times before slowly lowering his boxers.

You swallowed when his cock was in front of your face.

"What is it, hermosa?" He questioned with a mocking smile when he noticed the surprise in your expression.

"Shut up." You rolled your eyes as you spit into your hand to hold it. You licked its entire length again from base to tip.

You aligned it to your mouth with your hand while your lips were in charge of leaving wet kisses on the head, not caring that your lips were being stained with pre-cum.

"Hermosa." Jake repeated, his voice shaking. You already knew what he wanted but your habit of bothering him was always present in you.

"Yes, Jakey?"

"Please."

"Please, what?" You looked up at him as you traced little circles on his slit.

“Put it in your mouth. Please please please".

“You are adorable when you ask properly.” You gave a small laugh before obeying him. You took a deep breath in through your nose and you pushed it into your mouth in one movement, to the point where you felt it hitting your throat.

“Carajo.” He whispered breathlessly and finally placed a hand in your hair. He held a few strands in his fist and pushed you further against him, to the point where your nose collided with his abdomen.

You'd have to fix your makeup when you got out of there.

And although your eyes began to water, you didn't move away or make any fight to push him, first dead before letting yourself lose. After a few seconds he released you, letting you take a breath and sniff.

"Do you want to kill me?" You whispered laughing as you licked your lips.

"It seems to me that you are the one who wants to kill me, hermosa." His fingers squeezed your chin before pulling you back against his erection.

It didn't take long for you to open your lips for him, taking his entire member into your mouth for the second time.

Your gaze was still fixed on him.

"Are you going to swallow it all, mi amor?" With teary eyes you nodded, your hands resting on his thighs. "Buena chica."

Both hands went to your hair to keep you still. You obeyed and opened your mouth wide for him, even sticking your tongue out from under his cock so he could move freely.

He thrusted into your mouth without an ounce of mercy, you could feel your saliva run down your chin to your neck. When his movements became more frantic you knew he was getting closer.

The heat in his lower abdomen had him covering his mouth with one hand trying not to make any more noise.

One more hard thrust and Jake came. His hot cum ran down your throat as there wasn't enough room in your mouth to keep it there, it shot straight for you to swallow.

"Are you okay?" You questioned with a smirk as you wiped your chin with the back of your hand.

"Better than okay, cariño."

Hey :)

A note appeared on your desk, making you roll your eyes before laughing softly. You uncapped your pink pen to write underneath the horrible handwriting.

Hi! ♡

You filled in the heart before placing the paper on Jake's desk. You even winked at him when he looked surprised to receive a response.

Vanilla ice cream after classes?

And fries too? :)

[smolvenger]

The King of Asgard (Loki x fem! Reader Oneshot)

Synopsis: As the wife of Prince Loki of Asgard, you suddenly discover that Odin and Thor are gone. You are made queen and your dear husband is king. But a king needs an heir...

Word Count: 5K

Warnings: SMUT Y'ALL!!! 18+ Breeding Kink and Vanilla P in V sex and dirty talk. Some angst in the beginning but lots of hurt/comfort regarding his discovery about being a Frost Giant. Some married fluff. I use the canon events in Thor 1 but stretch out the timeline because it's my fic and I can do what I want. References to fairy tales because I'm a slut for literary references.

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

A/N: Since seeing Thor 1 in its completion this has been in my head. I don't usually write for the big man Loki himself too often- but it's a treat to do so! Maybe I will do more of this stuff if I get more ideas! REBLOGS, COMMENTS, DMS, AND ASKS ABOUT MY WORK ARE ALWAYS APPRECIATED! Also, I don't know if Frigga is also Freya the goddess of love and sex in this universe when I wrote this but her character is clearly more FRIGGA than Freya...so yeah...mea culpa

Taglist: @evelyn-kingsley @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @infinitystoner @littlespaceyelf @superficialdomina (since all the way back you asked to be tagged! Ta da! Here it is!!)

You had many regrets in your life. But marrying Prince Loki was not one of them.  When he asked you, you threw your arms around him and kissed him repeating one word- “Yes!”

You never regretted the day you wore a jeweled veil and walked down that aisle. You never regretted vowing before all the gods that you were his and he was yours. You never regretted becoming Princess of Asgard. Not if it meant the love of your life could become your husband.

Some whispered that your choice was unusual. That it was the wrong prince. That you should have married Thor. After all, it seemed obvious he was going to be the heir. But things did not happen in your heart the way they did. Thor was jovial and friendly to you. But before your betrothal, he liked you as a sister. No more, no less. Even if Odin commanded it, Thor would object to the match. If Thor learned to reign in his arrogance someday, you thought, he would make a fine lover to some lucky person!

Other than being the most beautiful man you had ever beheld, Loki was intelligent. Full of elegance as well as guile. Well-read, polite, patient, and charming, but could hold his own in any battle. It seemed you were one of the few people who recognized that. That was one of many reasons why he loved you.

You both attended feasts side by side. He would flirt with you even though you were still about a year into marriage.

“Why, it is too bad that such loveliness is sitting by herself tonight! May I have the seat next to her?” Loki would croon as he sat in the chair next to you.

 You danced every dance together at balls. You especially loved spending free hours exploring the Asgardian library together. Reading works from all Nine Realms. Sometimes until you both fell asleep by the fireplace. Not to mention his finesse in the bedroom.

Loki confessed of his wedding day nerves to you in private. He feared…displeasing you on your wedding night. But your mutual passion and reverence for each other won over all else. Every time you coupled, you brought each other to Valhalla and back again. You learned about each other’s bodies like studying maps. Each minute of lovemaking was both exploration and worship of each other.

Lately, the two of you were careful. You had your own special tea to drink before or after it happened. At most, he would spill his seed somewhere that wasn’t between your legs. You knew so much was happening. Becoming a parent would put more stress on both of you. Especially considering Odin was about to name his heir.

 Though you both did hope someday to have a child. You knew Loki would be a wonderful father and you wanted to be a mother. You wanted a family. You wanted to have a sweet baby (or two) of your own to cuddle and kiss. To hear it laugh when you tickled it. To welcome their first steps with open arms. To watch it grow. To leave your own mark- a person who was both Loki and you.

Now wasn’t the right time, both of you knew it. When you would sigh about it, he would hug you.

“We will wait, my love…time is our friend…” he’d assure you.

 There were worse things in life. And you might as well enjoy what you had now before it was too late. You were lucky to have him. Many couples lived happy, long lives together without children. You were fortunate to have a man who you could confide anything to. And he in turn confided all his worries to you.

The ceremony arrived. And it was not Loki who was named heir as he hoped. It was Thor.

As you stood next to Loki, you felt him stiffen. Thor smiled and held up Mjonir as the kingdom cheered for him. Looking at your husband, you took his hand. You heard him take in a deep sigh through his nose.

“I know you wanted it…I’m so sorry…” you whispered to him, rubbing a thumb over his palm.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

 One evening when you walked about the garden. The sun was setting and while there was some light, you wanted to admire the roses Frigga grew. Dressed in your golden dress, you knelt to sniff a few red ones. Admiring her work and the peace of the place. You jumped when a guard ran over to you.

“The Prince Loki requests your presence immediately in the castle vaults,” he reported.

Picking up your skirts, you hurried there.

“Loki, where are you? Are you hurt?” you asked as you entered.

He was standing on the steps before the Tesseract’s section. He looked up at the sound of your voice. There were tears in his eyes.

“I…I just spoke with father…” he said.

“What did he say this time?” you asked.

He took a step towards you. More tears fell down his cheeks.

“Y/N…I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have married you, shouldn’t have made you my prisoner…” he said.

Pain curled up in your chest at the words. Their grip tightened your throat and your eyes watered as well as his.

“Prisoner!?! What are you talking about, Loki? You cannot believe every word Odin says! I will talk to him myself right away! How dare he say such cruel things to you! You do deserve me! You do!” you cried.

You reached over to grab his hands and he jerked them back.

“No Asgardian maiden deserves to be sold and made wife to a Frost Giant!” He blurted.

You paused.

“Frost Giant?” you repeated.

All your life you heard whispers of the land of the Frost Giants, or Jotenheim. And they were always violent tales of terror. The large, ice creatures were longtime enemies of your kingdom. It was typical for Thor to boast about how much he would slay if given the chance.

“Stay here…and watch…” Loki instructed.

He put his hand on the Tesseract. Upon contact, his skin turned blue and his eyes red. A frost giant if you ever saw one.

Your eyes widened and you gasped in response, a hand flew over your mouth. Shock made your body lock in place. But you did not turn your eyes from him.

“Oh, Loki!” you cried.

You did not flee. No, you would not. Instead, you ran up and embraced him. He felt cold to the touch. As his hands released the Tesseract you felt him warm up in your arms as his skin turned back to ivory. They curled around your back, and he buried himself in your touch. You felt him shaking. Despite your own surprise, you would not abandon him. Never.

“It’s alright…it’s alright, I’m right here…this is a lot, I know…” you consoled as he cried.

He explained to you that years ago, Odin found an abandoned Frost Giant baby in Jotenheim. He took in the infant to be raised as one of his own. But never telling that young prince the truth about his parentage. Not until an accidental discovery. In a recent battle a Frost Gant touched your husband’s arm, changing your prince’s skin to blue beneath his grip. And blue skin could not lie.

“Do you know what I am, Y/N? I am a monster! That’s who you are married to! A monster!” Loki mourned.

You glanced at the door, then back to him. An idea from a recent library read growing in your head.

“Are you familiar with Midgard Fairy Tales? The ones for children?” you asked.

“No,” he answered.

“You don’t?” you asked.

“Midgard never interested me before…”

Taking him by the hand, you led him back to the library. You found a collection of Midgard Fairy Tales left on your favorite chair. You brought it to him and opened it up, flipping the pages. You then pointed to one story. The first page was illustrated with a ship on the ocean, then a rose, and a grand castle.

“You should read this one right here. It was written years ago by a lady. It is a Midgard Fairy Story called La Belle et La Bete or Beauty and The Beast…” you explained.

Loki took the book. He then flipped the page to see a picture of the eponymous beast.

“I know enough of fairy tales. They’re all the same. There’s some giant or creature who’s always the villain. Kidnapping unwilling maidens and hoarding gold. That is until a prince skewers them. Then there’s great celebration over the killing,” he dismissed.

You placed a hand on the page before he could close it.

“You’re right about one thing. There is a beast in this one…” you continued.

“Oh, and he’s there to do those things so babes will grow up learning to hate me,” Loki complained.

“No! Not in this one he’s not!” you objected.

You turned the page. It showed the Beast smiling with a lady in a rose garden.

“Yes, he is a beast. But do you know what he also is? He is the prince in the story! He might look frightening to some, but beneath it, he is kind and generous! He falls in love and marries a woman who sees that in the end! She doesn’t focus on what makes him monstrous and different- she accepts who he is!”

You set the book down and cupped his face.

 “Because she loves him!”

His jaw dropped, speaking nothing. He leaned into your hand.

“A Frost Giant? Yes. I will learn to adjust to the blue skin…but you are my husband. I could not ask for a better one. And I love you. No matter what…” you said.

He embraced you again and you both cried. Tears of happiness and of sorrow. Blue skin or white. Yellow eyes or blue ones. He was Loki. He was your husband, and you would always stay with him. Besides, it’s what he would have done for you.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When you went to bed that night, you expected tomorrow to be a day like any other. But instead, you were shaken out of sleep.

“Loki, what is it? It’s too early…” you murmured, half-awake.

You felt your bedside but did not feel the lump of his body.

Wakefulness creeping on you, you saw the guards and a few servants in your bedchambers. You jumped to sit up. You held onto the blankets, your knuckles popping in your grip.

“Where is my husband? Is he alright? What’s going on?” you questioned.

Their eyes were all wide. One servant stepped forward and spoke with gravity.

“The prince Thor is banished. And Odin has fallen into his Odinsleep. Loki is now King of Asgard. And you are it’s Queen.”

It was only four sentences. But it felt like something from a dream. You jolted out of bed to stand. You barely opened your mouth to respond when the servant knelt before you. He took your hand and kissed it in reverence.

“Your highness! Queen of Asgard!” he announced.

All bowed before you in your room.

 You expected many things when you married the god of mischief. Just not this! It felt like one of those Midgard Fairytales happening to you.

When you dressed and hurried to your husband in the throne room. You forgot your new role and froze your steps. He sat on a throne, legs deliciously apart. He took up space now. The throne was entirely his and he was going to use every inch of it. He was decked in the robe of a ruler, not a prince destined to wait in the wings all his life. He had power in him, and you had to confess the aura of it was…. doing something for you. Your legs were buckling beneath your dress. There was that infamous, mischievous smile on him. It made you shiver. Already morning and desire swirled inside you. When his head turned to see you, he lit up. He got up from his throne and walked down. Per habit, you curtsied low. Then, placing a finger beneath your chin, he led you to standing. Your sex beneath your legs clenched at the gesture.

He then grabbed you and lifted you up in a hug where your feet didn’t touch the ground.

“Y/N…darling!” he greeted.

He put you down and placed a kiss on your lips.

“But…are you ready to rule? It won’t be easy…” you worried.

“It will not. But at last, think of everything I could do…lead armies…unite kingdoms…”

Even Jotenheim and Asgard if he decreed it so, you noted. You then smiled at him. He was glowing from pride and joy. He took your hand and kissed it.

“If we’re together through this…we can handle it…” he said.

They placed you to stand by his side on the throne.

 Frigga entered. She bowed to you. Your own knees bucked a little out of habit. Usually you were the one bowing to her! You walked down to her, taking her shoulders.

“Queen mother…I…I’m speechless! …I don’t know how I could ever be a queen as well as you!” you confessed to her.

She kissed your cheek and gave you a patient smile.

“Don��t worry, I will help you. Day by day, step by step, you will learn how.”

“Thank you…what do I do now?”

“You will be crowned this afternoon. The kingdom will be watching. Look at them, your people. And show them you care…” she advised.

The hour arrived for them all. Swarms of people broke in like a flood to the throne room. You felt every eye as a golden crown was placed on your head and as his familiar helmet was placed on Loki.

Remembering Frigga’s advice, you looked down on them. You allowed a smile to grow on you. You smiled as you heard your name being chanted along with your husband's name.

They cheered and bowed to you. Flags were waved and confetti fell like snow across the palace.  Loki got took your hand and lifted it up before them. They began to cry out.

“Hail the King Loki! Hail the Queen Y/N!”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When the sun began to set, a familiar servant ran up to you.

“The King sends his regrets that duties require his immediate attention. He asked for the cooks to go ahead and serve you dinner in his absence,” she announced.

“Thank you,” you replied. An attempt at a regal tone of voice new to you.

The servant bowed and left. She didn’t do that as reverently when you were a mere princess. You ate your dinner alone and then took a rosewater bath right after. You noticed several stray petals floating around in the tub.

Once you finished, you returned to your chambers. It seemed they would stay the same for now. The King’s room was for the Odinsleep. Drying yourself you picked a nightgown. Tonight, it was a white one with a silvery tone to it. It had long sleeves that draped down and had beautiful beading around the bodice. The neckline dipped down to the clasp that secured it. Some might consider it immodest, but it was too beautiful for your resistance. It gave you some very sensual cleavage that you loved (and so would your husband). The skirt then dipped down to the floor, making it feel like a robe, but the material was not so thick that it felt too hot.

If you dressed more like a queen, even at night, you would feel more apt to the role.

What a day it had been. Part of your body ached after such excitement. You sat by your vanity on a cushion. Flowers (including the roses you liked) from the gardens in vases bedecked it. By the candlelight you checked your hair. Sighing in, you relaxed on the seat, admiring the glimpse of the kingdom at night from your curtains. Enjoying a moment of peace.

You then heard his voice outside the door.

“I am now going to bed. Do not disturb us unless there is an emergency,” Loki ordered the servants and guards. Already he was speaking more like a king.

The doors creaked as he opened it and walked inside. Though he was in his own green bedrobes, there was a bounce and urgency to his step. Then he approached you as you sat on the cushion before the vanity. Though his blue eyes did wander hungrily to your low neckline. They then returned up to your face in the mirror’s reflection.

“How is my pretty queen tonight?” he asked.

“I’m good…” you answered.

“Are you tired?” he asked with a tone of concern.

He placed a hand on your shoulder, fingers drumming in anticipation. Was there some old prank he was going to pull that he wanted you to see? What was he going to say?

“Only a little…I’m still taking it in…” you replied.

He embraced you from behind, nuzzling into your neck. You smiled at the contact of feeling his nose against your skin. He smiled as he looked at you in the mirror.

“You always were a queen to me, my dear….” He said.

He kissed your cheek and then lowered his lips to your neck. You smiled, enjoying the increasingly amorous gesture. You felt the tickle of his breath. His soft lips made another kiss in between your neck and clavicle. You melted into it.

“My, Freya has gotten someone enchanted…” you teased.

“It’s not Freya who enchants me…” he husked.

He then turned you around and led you to stand. And laid a desperate kiss on your lips. You wrapped your arms around him. He slid in his tongue. A hand of his crept to hold your back to him. You groaned into it. Already, arousal began its long, sinful climb with its wet signal between your legs. You released lips with a satisfying smack.

“If you continue this, I’ll ring for that tea…” you said.

“No…” he voiced.

“Hmm?”

He held your hands down.

“You won’t need that tea tonight. Or for a while…” he said.

You blinked.

“How come?”

He gave you a smile, looking in your eyes.

“I must tell you…the council has given me much advice. To secure myself as king, there are a few things I can do. Enact laws. Silence any rebellions or refusals. And, since I’m already married...”

He paused.

“Sire an heir.”

You felt your breath stop in your throat. Your eyes widened. His smile went down to a smirk. A glint in his eye as he went to you. His eyes roaming down your exposed chest. His hands wandered down, staring to hike a little of your skirt.

“So, you’re saying…” you stuttered.

“Y/N, I…I need you tonight…tonight…I’ll give you a child, an heir, someone to carry on my reign, and keep me as king…Would you like that?” he asked.

He leaned closer. Wanting to kiss you, then pausing. You could feel his breath just on your lips, making you dizzy. He placed his hips against yours. You felt a moan shudder out of you. Your answer was an easy one.

“Yes, yes I would.”

He swept you up in his arms, strong despite his lean frame.  Your heart raced so hard you felt it would burst out of you. He laid you on the bed then crawled over you. You felt yourself trembling like it was the first time. He cupped your cheek and leaned over to kiss you.

“My queen, my darling…”

You wrapped your arms around him.

“And my Prince made King,” you said back.

Intuitively, he ground his hips on yours. A small shudder went through you, coming out as a sigh. You reached a hand to run it through his hair as he kissed you again. Combing through those dark curls you loved so much. Because they were a part of him. His crown that never left him. You gave him another, harder kiss. He then looked down at your robe. He slid a hand over the beading, over your chest.

“A lady beautiful as you could doesn’t need such …embellishments…” he growled.

He removed his hand to lift it in the air. He flicked it and a green light began at the tips of your toes and then worked its way up your legs and through your body. Your evening robes for sleeping vanished and instead was your skin. He wetted his lips at the sight of your nakedness.

“I’ve longed to see this, to touch you for hours…”

He went up to your bare breasts. You gulped as he began to kiss it. Your back arched on impulse, tensing already. As he worked his way to the center, you felt yourself tensing already. Smiling at the pleasure as he used his tongue, swirling your nipple. Chills ran over you. He released his mouth to whisper.

“I’ve missed your breasts. The shape. The softness. Feeling you…”

He replaced it with his large hand. He gently squeezed and groped both around. You exhaled out another sound coming out of you. Not a polite one.

“Perfection-perfect for my hands. And perfect to nurse my heir…”

He then lowered himself down, kissing your stomach. Tracing your hips. He then kissed your bellybutton, dipping his tongue into the hole of it. Only a symbol of what was next. A delicious forewarning. Preparation. You grew wetter with the feeling of something soft and wet inside a hole of yours.

“Loki…Loki, my dear…husband…” you whimpered.

He held your hips down, tracing it and feeling them again. How they curved up to where they made your waist. His fingers sprawled possessively over your flesh. Then back down to your hips. Looking down, there was a bulge getting bigger against his green robe.

“And these…perfect. Perfect for what I put between them. For my mouth, my fingers, my cock, and my child…”

He pulled his head up, then you put your finger to his lips. Giggling lightly, as did he.

“You talk so much. But you’ve yet to bare yourself too, my love,” you teased.

With a cocky half-smile, all he did was tilt his head. The seidr ran down from the forehead to the toes, and the smooth robe was replaced with his warm skin. He was so beautiful. Every time he took off his clothes, it was everything in you not to stare. He had a broad, ivory chest so large and enveloping. It was like a blanket when you rested your head on them or when he thrust on top of you. You put a hand to explore the crevices, going through the patch of hairs on him. His muscular shoulders, perfect for digging your nails in. His abdominals-both soft and strong. For he was both at the center of his heart as well. Thighs made thick from running, jumping, and everything a warrior did.

He ground against you. His cock, already hard, teased your stomach. He leaned up to kiss your neck in its small soft spot. A hand returning to your breast.

“You will look wonderful engorged with a babe…a child…a part of you that will always be there, a trace of us together.”

“Loki…my dear husband…I love you…” you voiced.

He smiled, inching close.

“And I love you when you’re screaming beneath me…”

With one long, beautiful hand, he took the outside of your legs. He traced his fingers down from thigh to knee. Ghosting against the upper flesh of your skin. As tenderly as if you were the brightest, most precious jewel kept in his treasury. In seas of coins, rubies, and diamonds…it was you, you out of everything else, that mattered to him.

He took his large, beautiful hands and then moved them to the inside of your knees. You bit back a moan, leaning your head into the pillow as you felt it.

Using both his hands, he then spread you apart, wide open. He looked down at you and grinned. He had seen, felt, penetrated, and tasted your pussy like an addict. Always hungry for more. Even if you were poison, he would consider it the sweetest way to die. He placed himself back up. The tip just teasing your entrance. Every nerve inside you screamed. It brushed against you, never plunging in.

“You’re a banquet all for me, my dear…now…are you ready?” he whispered.

“Oh, please…. stop tormenting me… I want a child…and I want you…give me…give me one, Loki…” you begged.

“Let me…let me feel your sweet warmth and take your king’s shaft…” Loki husked.

He plunged into you slowly. Part of you panted through your nose. You felt him climb inside, inch by agonizing inch. This was a ceremony, sacred as any other rite in a royal bedroom. As if everything had to be right. Yet there was beauty-there was divinity. An ecstasy of reaching something otherworldly in between each other’s legs. You let out a loud gasp when he placed all of you inside him. You grabbed onto him.

He then retracted his hips, and he began to thrust into you. Grinding you right into the bed. Writhing as you accepted his largeness like it was new. Each gasp from his breath, each pant from each thrust. You could feel one muscular arm of your husbands touched the headboard, keeping him steady against you. You felt your back and ass slide against the silk sheets. He was slow, but eager.

“Yes…I promised you… when we married…I’d give you-nrgh-I’d give-give you everything-fuck-everything you’d ever want-gods…yes, gods, yes!” he whimpered as he thrusted.

You let out a moan with each thrust, your own breasts bouncing slowly with the movement. He looked down, releasing the hand on the headboard to slap them.

You let out a gasp- “L-Loki-you-you-you beast!”

“I thought you figured that out already, darling…” he whispered with a chuckle.

You felt his other hand wander to touch your back. You writhed under him.  He then slid his hand under his hips guide you up. His strength held you steady. He hit a different angle and you let out a cry-it was deeper, and his cock had found it’s way to your bud. Already sensitive and shaking.

“L-Loki! There! Please! There!”  you begged as he kept thrusting.

“As my queen commands…”

You saw the veins in his neck tightening as he kept on. His black curls messed around him- wild and free. A creature claiming his prize for the night. How beautiful he looked. You returned a hand back up and pulled him down. You kissed him with such fervor as he thrust that he stayed for only a second inside you, pausing, catching a breath. What breath there was, anyway.

Then he picked up the pace slightly. You were starting to see stars. That sweet angle where he got your clit. You felt pleasure rise  in you. Yes, it was arriving. You moved your hands down from his shoulders, down his triangular back. Once you found his soft, perfect ass you pushed him in again.

“Loki I’m…I’m…I’m close…oh norns- I’m…I’m going to cum!” you pleaded.

“So…am I-nrg-Call me king, call me king again and…and…I’ll-I’ll drive you there with me …”

He lowered his voice. Guttural and demanding.

“Call- me- your- king.”

He even got his free hand inside, speeding you up as he too sped up. You felt it-the breaking point.

“Yes-please-my- my king! My king!” you cried.

He let out a shout and you felt his hot seed spurt inside you. Your own climax then broke upon you. Thw words repeated out of you in a whisper.

“My king…my…my…”

It was the climax where it spun inside you. You felt your whole-body lock. Your quim felt as if it was spinning, sputtering with the pleasure. As well as his seed.  You groaned as it washed you down and you felt it. Your eyes teared up. His stayed inside, spurting like mad. Free and plentiful after starvation. A broken dam. He stayed inside. Not wasting one drip of him. You accepted it, every bit of it. Not one drop would go to waste. You felt your body buzz. Vibrating on the inside though you were still. Still except for your own breasts heaving with the breath you caught. You felt him catch his breath on top of you too.

He then cupped your cheek. His curls fell before his face. But his smile and blue eyes glowing from them.

“I couldn’t have asked for better. A better broodmare. A better wife. A better queen by my side…” he said.

Playfully, you went up and kissed the tip of his nose. He grinned at it and then embraced you. Arms flinging around each other. His own sweaty, earthy scent mixed with the rosewater bath you had earlier.

His cock still twitched inside you. Then you felt a final hot release of him and there was no more. He pulled out. Once it left you, you felt a cold space in your quim. Like it was an empty niche, something that needed filling. So much was he a part of you. You reached up your hand to brush his curls back. Seeing his face. Seeing him.

He then went down to your stomach, kissing it.

“I think if it’s a boy…we should call him Tuck…and if it’s a girl...Idona…” you then told him.

He rolled over to lay his head on the pillow. Then he turned over. You hummed at the sight of him- oh Hela, his beautiful profile was art itself!

“And what if we have twins?” he asked.

“I’ll figure it out, later!” you replied with a small laugh.

You placed your head on his chest and looked up and he down.

“I hope you’ve forgiven me for missing dinner…we’ll eat together tomorrow night; I’ll make it up to you…” he said.

“Of course, I forgive you. You had duties of your own…” you whispered.

He then gave a smile with the familiar, delicious darkness in his eyes.

“It might take more than once. We will try for an heir no matter how many times it takes. I’d like to have you on that very table like a meal of my own to devour. And I’ll have you on the library walls. On each rug. On each column. So, rest well…you have several duties of your own tomorrow.”

[mixes-archive]

SUPER GRAPHIC ULTRA MODERN GIRL ✰

Arcee x fem! human! reader

SUMMARY: Being unabashedly feminine while working in a male-dominated field is EXHAUSTING. But thank Primus Arcee and you have each other to cope.

TAGS: winners possibly winning, cute fluff, the stove is not even on yet-burn, shitting on men a bit in spirit of this song

A/N: I BET THIS WASNT THE COMBACK ANY OF YOU WERE EXPECTING LOLOL - I won’t bore anyone with a long story, my ask box is open if you’re curious about anything.

This is my first fic in years, and my first for Transformers, so I hope its atleast somewhat enjoyable??

Arcee was, well…

confused, if an Autobot can be, at herself and her emotions.

Servos tracing the round part of her helm as she loses herself to her thoughts - about you.

The little human who had somehow, some way, crawled itself into the deepest parts of her processor. And with no great difficulty either, she was almost enamoured with you since she’d first laid her optics on your little form.

Finding reason for that wouldn’t be as hard as anyone would think either - for being such a tough and independent bot, having purely masculine friends doesn’t get tiring. (After you’d told her about the human equivalent of her experience, she was glad she lacked a sense of smell)

Now, she loves her crew, she really does, but first being one of the few feminine-presenting cybertonians and now seemingly the only one on earth (with exception of Airachnid) - it would have been hard not feeling lonely, while also admired by too many.

It was overwhelming and so, so lonely.

They’d previously brought a few humans in on their situation, to put it mildly. Unfortunate souls that couldn’t overlook the brightly coloured, obscenely tall and heavy machines shifting almost magically, in a badly hidden spot.

Of course, luck had been on their side, because they were all willing to stay silent, sometimes even helping out with stuff the autobots couldn’t do themselves.

Yes, they were lucky. But Arcee did not feel that way because as it turned out, they’d all ben men.

Not that she’d treated them as anything less than because of that of course, but she still couldn’t help but crave that true connection of someone likeminded.

So when Bumblebee came crashing into their hideout with a frilly, pink… thing in his servos, she was excited.

You’d looked so adorable, sharing her colour-way even, as if sent by Primus himself, saying: ‘Here Arcee, for all your troubles.’

Arcee made it no secret that she’d claimed you as hers. From the start she was by your side, giving you a comforting glance when Optimus gave you the run-down, and having her servo on the small of your back when you’d eventually met all the others. The others don’t think they’d ever seen her talk that much.

And the sentiment wasn’t one-sided either.

As much as it was upsetting to be basically kidnapped by a (admittedly very cool-looking) Camaro because you’d spotted it- him shifting to bend into a humanoid shape to pet a cat, you did have to admit it wasn’t a terrible situation to be in. At least you now had the confirmation that aliens wouldn’t cause harm to you.

Though once you’d been informed that really, they hadn’t planned on staying on earth as a long as they did, and really, really couldn’t afford to be known about on a bigger scale, you felt sympathy for them.

And something deeper for the nice, pink robot comforting you through all these plot-developments.

You ended up chatting so much that the night ended at dawn, along with a private lesson in motorcycling from Arcee herself. Turned out you actually lived close by and you promised each other to meet again soon.

Maybe it was the excitement of finally meeting someone that you clicked with so well and so quick, maybe the tiredness clouding your brain or maybe the fact that the first person you’ve found yourself attracted to is a 9 foot tall robo-woman, but you kissed her display before running into the safety of your house.

If she had speakers, Arcee is certain the entire neighbourhood would have woken up to hear Katy Perry playing.

[grimoireofhayley]

Of Friends and Horror

Stu Macher x Fem!Reader x Billy Loomis

WARNINGS: Graphic content, eventual Smut (MINORS DNI), Language, Talks of SA (rape), Cheating, Obsessiveness, Gore, 18+ content, Stalking, Jealousy, Angst, Possessiveness, (let me know if there’s more that needs to be added!)

Word Count: 1.02k

Tag List: @ev3ningrain @nerdytif @m-the-little-witch

A/N: Ah, I hope y’all feel lucky. Two chapters in one day! I hope you enjoy this one as much as I enjoyed writing it. I hope I captured Randy, Billy, and Stu’s personality correctly. Thank you so much for reading! I’m hoping I’d get an update out tomorrow, but if not, it should be up later on this week at some point so keep an eye open. I also wrote this on my iPad, so I apologize if there’s any grammatical errors. I’ll proofread again tomorrow and put out an updated version. Oh, again, if you wanna be added to the tag list, just comment down below. Thank you :)

All chapter links! 👇🏻👇🏻👇🏻

OF&H Masterlist

Chapter 3

“Remember, your principal loves you, and I want you to be safe. All students are encouraged to return to their homes promptly from school grounds…” The principal spoke over the PA, “Avoid strangers, walk in twos and threes—“

You pinched the bridge of your nose, visibly stressed from all the questioning. You haven’t a clue why you were so upset about everything, you weren’t the killer, but for some reason it felt like you were. Maybe you should’ve lied? Twisted the story a bit so you didn’t reveal you were a mistress at some point in your life.

“I am a slut..” You mumbled, dragging your fingers down your face, causing your eyes to droop. “Now Brooke is definitely going to find out, how am I to confront her on that?” You asked no one in particular.

You stared at the vibrant blue sky, squinting when the sun flashed your eyes. “Have mercy on me, please?” You begged the man upstairs, not expecting an answer in return.

“What kind of questions did they ask you, Sid?” You heard Tatum’s voice in the distance.

You blew a raspberry, putting your brave face on and sauntered over to your friend group at the fountain.

“They asked if I knew Casey…” Sidney’s voice soon followed.

“Hi, guys!” You chirped, sitting in front of Stu, Billy, Tatum and Sidney, unintentionally stopping their conversation.

“Hello, Sweetcheeks!” Stu blurted, eyes glazing over you, a small smirk planted on his lips. “What took you so long?” He groaned, “It’s always so boring when you aren’t here!” He frowned, tossing his head back.

“Gee, thanks Stu..” Tatum snipped, causing you to giggle.

You looked over to Billy, seeing Sidney leaning against his legs, your face contorting in disgust as jealousy was creeping up on you. You mentally slapped yourself, looking away and back at Stu.

“Uh, they had me stay longer for questioning…” You admitted, leaning back against your bag, stretching out your legs.

“Huh? Why?” Billy asked, curiously.

“Yeah, why’s that?” Sidney mumbled.

You swallowed the lump that formed in your throat.

“Just reasons, I guess.”

“Speaking of questioning, did they ask if you like to hunt?” Stu looked at Billy and Randy who seemed to have shown up out of nowhere.

“Yeah, they did. Did they ask you?” Billy answered and probed, Randy nodded in agreement.

“Hunt? Why would they ask you if you liked to hunt?” Tatum voiced.

“Because their bodies were gutted.” Randy spoke up, shoving a peanut in his mouth.

“They didn’t ask me if I liked to hunt…” both Sidney and Tatum declared.

Stu looked around, but his eyes always seemed to land on you, which caused you to blush, and chew on your fingernail.

“‘Cause there’s no way a girl could’ve killed ‘em..” Stu laughed.

“That’s bullshit. The killer could easily be female, basic instinct.”

“That was an ice pick. Not exactly the same thing…” Randy butted in.

“Yeah, Casey and Steve were completely hollowed out. And the fact is, it takes a man to do something like that.” Stu grinned, still staring at you without realizing it.

You leaned in, placing your chin on the palm of your hand. “Really now? If that’s so, then why did they ask me if I liked to hunt, Stu?” You smirked, catching all of them off guard. “Like Tatum said, the killer could easily be a girl. Though, with how they were killed it was clearly a man. They’re all the same, messy. They like to play with their prey. A woman on the other hand, knows how to get things done, swiftly and cleanly. Why do you think they don’t get caught as easily?” You finished your statement. Drumming your fingers across your lap in triumph.

“That was— I was not expecting that.” Stu laughed loudly, bewilderment lingering around him like an aroma of some sorts. Billy was just as shocked, but more amused.

However, Sidney wasn’t having it. “How… How do you gut someone?” She asked.

“You take a knife—“ Stu started and Billy looked up from his lunch. “And you slit ‘em from the groin to the sternum..”

“Hey.” Billy cut Stu off, glaring at him. “It’s called tact, you fuckrag.”

You sighed, shaking your head.

“Hey, (Y/n)..” Sidney asked, ignoring Billy and Stu’s former conversation.

Your ears perked and you looked at her confused.

“Didn’t you used to date Steve Orth?”

‘Now how in the fuck could she have possibly known that…’ You thought, your ears turning red from anger and you clenched your fist.

“Yeah, for like a couple of months..”

“Hold up, did I miss a chapter or something? When the hell did you date him?” Billy asked, looking somewhat pissed.

“Uh, yeah, I have to agree with Billy here.. when the hell did that happen?” Tatum’s eyes widened, she felt betrayed.

“Jesus, guys, it was only a couple of months, I don’t even know how Sidney found out.” You started, shooting Sidney a glare.

“Can we change the subject, please?”

“Did you sleep with him?” Stu mumbled, starting to get irritated as well.

“All of you, please just shut up. It is not a big deal.” You demanded.

“Are the police aware that you dated the victim?” Randy asked, ignoring your pleas.

“Hey, what are you saying? That I killed both Casey and Steve?” Your mouth gaped at the accusation.

“It just makes sense, ex-girlfriend not over the relationship, gets jealous seeing her lover with someone else… You know, the scorned ex who kills for revenge!” Randy shouted, earning a few stares in the process from passersby’s.

“(Y/n) was with me last night, okay?” Billy spoke, winking at you from behind Sidney.

“Yeah, I was…” You stated, catching Sidney’s eyes darting your way.

“Was that before or after you sliced them up?”

“Hold on, you went to (Y/n)‘s after you came by my place? You said you were going to Stu’s!” Sidney flared her nostrils, anger bubbling to the surface.

“Oh, brother…” You whispered, face-palming. Seeing Sidney hurriedly packing up her things, she didn’t give neither you or Billy time to explain...

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[evans23]

You were his

Pairing : David Friedman x Reader OC

Summary : Sometimes, David wished you were more compliant but he wouldn't want you any other way.

Tag(s)/Warning(s) : Smut, insecurities, anguish.

A/N: Hello dear 😁 Hope you enjoy the more alluring Detective of all the time.

Also read on AO3

David and you met by chance two years ago. By chance... it is an understatement. Actually, you had crashed into his car because of your inattention. 

To be honest, you weren't a really good driver and you were thanking the Driving's God every day to let you get the precious license you yielded so much to obtain when you were eighteen. 

Now, sixteen years later, you still weren't a good driver but you felt it as a blessing because, without your lack of skills at driving, you would have never met David.

You could remember when he had jumped from his car, ready to murder someone, in fact, you, to have bumped into his old red car. Of course, you didn't know at the time he was a detective, not that it would have me any difference about the deplorable state you let his car in, but at least, you would not have freaked out as well, thinking your end was near for the mere reason than in your mind, a detective couldn't do any harm to another human being. David had disillusioned you about that at some point in your relationship. 

It wasn't love at first sight. Not for you and not for him either. None of you had a report to fill in about the accident, a thing you still teased him about for being such a neglectful Detective. 

Still today, he was trying to fathom how in hell he had such a leap of faith about another person. His job had made him wary of everyone and everything. Even his wife had betrayed him at some point. The only human he trusted was his only daughter. 

But this day, besides the fact that he was late for a peculiarly difficult case which tired him more than usual and if you asked him, he would tell you his tiredness was the only reason why he had let you go with his phone number and a quarter of his faith in you to call him back to fill in the report. However, he found it wise to specify he was from the Police. 

Of course, you were a trustworthy person and as a matter of course, you had called him as soon as you had arrived home. He invited you, or should you say he ordered you, to come to the precinct during the afternoon and you were compelled, a bit afraid of the consequences if you irked him too much. 

He was his usual self when you arrived : grumpy and gruff. He scurried towards you as soon as he glimpsed at you, leading you to his office for your biggest relief as it wasn't the interrogation room. 

If you were asked, you would probably say that it was the moment you began to feel butterflies dancing in your belly. He was so imposing, there in his cramped office, towering towards you while he was leading a mere formality like an interrogation. What’s your name ? What’s your car’s brand ? How old are you ? 

You had frowned at this one, not sure if the question was pertinent but you understood later that he wanted to be sure you were only lucky enough to look under 25 or if you were really under 25. By chance, not only were you 33 but it seemed like you had discovered the secret of the Fountain of Youth. 

His next question caught you off guard and if David was honest, he would say he was quite stunned by his ownboldness. But it had paid off since you had said yes when he asked you randomly as if the question was a part of his interrogation for a simple collision with not too much damage, can I invite you to go out later today, after my service ?

You were tempted to tell him : Can you or may you ? But you had already understood that David hadn’t the same sense of humour as the others and that your teasing could frustrate him and you didn’t want to blow out your chance with the Detective, not when the butterfly wings caused a lump of happiness in your throat just by hearing the unexpected question. Therefore, you simply answered yes.

You met him at 5, oblivious of the fact that for the first time in his life, he had delegated his work to a colleague for not having to cancel his rendezvous with you.

It was the first of far much more meetings. You learnt quickly how to manage David, his constant busyness and his grumpy mood, even though most of the time he was more than pleasant with you without even trying to be. You helped him to open up to you and you did the same with him. 

As an introvert, you knew how hard it could be to share your deepest thoughts and your wounds soul with someone else, but together you learned to do so. Even if he would never admit it, David fell hard for you after your first meeting and after the third he was head over heels for you.

For you, it had been faster since your heart was his after you had left the precinct with the feeling that he could definitely be the one you were looking for to complete you. 

And here you were, two years later, living with the over-occupied Detective, dealing with his sometimes ill-tempered, alleviating the pressure after a peculiarly complicated or dreadful case, loving him with all your soul. And even if he wasn’t the demonstrative type, you knew David felt the same for you. 

However, today, the Driver’s God wasn’t with you as your car ran down while you went to work. A lovely colleague of yours came to your rescue, dropping you off at your work while a car repairer had been called to take care of your vehicle. 

You supposed Mr Darcy, your car’s name, was tired of being so mistreated by your bad driving habits. You didn’t call David to let him know about the breakdown, aware of his busyness, anyway, he was probably chasing leads and you didn’t want to bother him unnecessarily. You could have texted him but you knew how he hated being distracted while he was poring over evidences and you weren’t oblivious that he liked to joke about your clinginess with his partner, Sadie, a former FBI agent who was now working effectively with him. 

You weren’t jealous as you got on pretty well with the woman since the first time he introduced you to her. Moreover, she had a boyfriend, who would probably become her husband sooner than later. But you were too self-conscious to bear being the butt of their joke as playful as it was. And after all, he would know soon enough your precious Mr Darcy had let you down.

So you worked without having a second thought about your bad start this morning, too enamoured with your job for staying worked up too long. You worked in a bookstore, a job which fitted you perfectly as you were such a bookworm. But as the day went on, you realised you should have secured a lift with one of your colleagues. Indeed, you were now doing the closure alone and it was pitch-black. While you were counting the proceeds of the day, you tried to figure out the best and safest way to come back to David’s house. Your house. 

You glimpsed at your watch, asking yourself if you should eventually call David but you decided not to. If he wasn’t working anymore, which was improbable knowing him, then he was probably winding down in front of the TV, maybe he had even nodded off.

“Come on [Y/N], you’re a grown-up woman, you don’t need your man to hold your hand. For God's sake, you have already come back home on your own in the past without any trouble.”

But it was before knowing David and the gruesome things his job made him see day after day. He warned you more than often about being careful, and beware about everything and everyone, particularly when the night has set for good. He often told you how careless you could be sometimes, reminding you that the world wasn’t a safe place and that you had to be more attentive to your surroundings. Now, with all his recommendations in your head, you felt a tad unease walking alone in the dark, yet it was only a twenty-minute walk, nothing to really wind you up. 

Therefore, you began to walk, slowly as you were wearing your favourite pairs of heels, the ones that make you taller than you were in reality and give your appearance more allure. The one David despised because every time you wore it, he was making a sort of wager between him and himself if yes or no you were going to strain your ankle. For his relief and yours, it had never happened. 

The cool air made you shudder a bit and you were beginning to regret not having taken a jacket with you this morning. However, how could you have known your car would let you down ?!

But your cold skin didn’t bother you too much as a cold shiver ran down your spine. Someone was following you. You accelerate your pace and the sound of soles behind you accelerates too. You put your hand in your pocket, encircling your phone without daring to take it out, lest to alert your pursuer about your attention. And even if you could reach David, what could he do ?

You accelerate a bit your walking, head down, hand gripping firmly your phone, asking yourself how you would run if needed with these stupid shoes, which made your feet ache in addition. 

And then, your heart stopped. A hand was on your shoulder and you froze, unable to even scream. Your whole body ran cold and your brain couldn’t work anymore. You were going to die here, in a dark alley, David and your parents would have to grieve you and all of that because of your genuine stupidity.

Incapable to move, you shut your eyes, waiting for the unavoidable when another hand grabbed your wrist and forced you to turn around.

“You are the most inconsiderate woman I have ever met ! Are you totally crazy or just stupid for walking all by yourself in this part of the town ? During the night on top of that !” 

You let out a sigh of relief, recognising David’s voice but when you met his eyes, you knew he wasn’t over with you.

Holding firmly your wrist, he led you towards his car, which was parked near the alley where you had the fear of your life. Thanks to the presence of Sadie, you escaped his wrath for some time. Not that you were afraid of him or of his anger but you didn’t like it when he was mad at you because it woke up all your insecurities, even though David told you a thousand times that even if sometimes you were quarrelling for more than often stupid things, never would he leave you for such a trivial thing than a little disagreement. 

But you had the feeling it wasn’t a little disagreement this time, you could see smoke coming out of his ears while his knuckles had turned white by squeezing the wheel for the purpose of containing himself in front of his colleague and friend, however, you weren’t fooled by his restraint, you knew you were in for a night with him wrangling over you about your little stroll in the night.

He dropped off Sadie and you shift off the backseat to sit in the front with him. He didn’t talk during the 15 longer minutes of all your life. He was still as the grave, glimpsing at you sometimes with a moody sigh. You didn’t try to reach him either. You didn’t want to have an argument with him whereas your head and your feet were aching, your stomach knotted and your insecurities overwhelming at the mere idea David was mad at you for something rather insignificant.

When you arrived, he opened the door and let you in first as usual. You took off your shoes, and your hair clippers in a vain attempt to alleviate the aching which was pounding at the back of your head and you strode to the kitchen where David was already sitting down at the counter. He offered you a glass of water that you accepted suspiciously but you didn’t have to wait too long before he lashed out his anger over you.

“Do you really want to kill me woman ?!”

It was a rhetorical question, so you chose to keep your mouth closed, but inwardly your answer was as ironic as is question. 

“Didn’t tell you how dangerous the town is at night ? Particularly THIS part of the town ?!”

He wasn’t shooting at you but David didn’t need to raise your tone to make an impression. His cold anger, clear and exaggerated articulation and his hazel eyes more cutting than a blade were enough to keep quiet the more impudent delinquent. But you weren’t one of his suspects, you were his girlfriend so you were not nearly so impressed about his intimating demeanour as you were years ago after having driven into his car. 

“David, you were the one frightening me, not one of your criminal…” you began but he cut you off.

“Fortunately it was only me ! You stupid girl !”

It was your turn to cut him off. You couldn’t stand it when he was insulting your intelligence, even though you knew he didn’t see you as a stupid person. 

“Stop it David ! Stop patronising me ! I am not a child !”

You could see the anger seething more and more in his eyes.

“Then don’t act like a petulant little girl who knows everything better than me ! How many times did I tell you this part of the town is dangerous ? Why in hell didn’t you call me ?!”

He was still scolding you in a calm, slow-paced tone while now you were shooting.

“I didn’t want to bother you !”

“You don’t bother me, you crazy woman ! What’s bothers me is you putting yourself in danger ! I already have a teenager who gives me too much white hair, I don’t need you to do so. I need you to come through for me. My work makes my life complicated enough as is !”

“I am supportive ! You can always rely on me and you know that ! I am a big girl, I can walk by myself without the need to have a man holding my hand !”

“Oh please, don’t set off with your stupid feminist revendication or I swear…”

For the first time since the beginning of your argument, his voice raised a tad.

“Stop treating me like a child ! I am not your teenage daughter, I am your wif… girlfriend,” you shouted back, caught up before saying the word wife, not wanting him to know how much you were yielding to be Mrs Friedman, even though David wasn’t dupe and already knew that. 

In fact, the ring had been hidden in his underwear drawer for two months.

“Yes, you’re my girlfriend, my wife like I like to introduce you when I talk about you and more than all the only one besides my daughter I love more than my life itself. And yes, you behave like a child ! All I want is taking you on my knees and giving you a good spanking to make this lesson stick in this stubborn head of yours.”

“Is it a promise ?” you asked, catching him off guard.

You see the twinkle in his eyes despite the fact he hadn’t finished with you. Nevertheless, you had succeeded in whetting his sexual appetite. 

“You, little minx !”

He drew nearer to you, almost threatening. You put a hand on his chest but he grabbed it, pulling you over him, capturing your waist with his other arm.

“It is what you want little minx ? You want to be in for a treat ?”

You forced him to lean towards you to kiss him widely. He responded fervently before pulling himself away. You moaned, saddened by the disappearance of his warm lips against yours.

“No !”

“What ?” you asked with wide eyes.

“Naughty girls don’t get rewards.”

“David ! Don’t leave me hanging like that !” you said, the wetness between your legs itching you.

“Apologise and maybe I’ll indulge you.” he blackmailed you.

“Never !”

You had your pride and you didn’t do anything wrong. You wouldn’t apologise just because he let his anger get the best of him. However, you knew it was the only way for him to express such a strong emotion as the fear he had felt when he had seen you all alone in the dark night.

“Then promise.”

“What ?” you asked suspiciously.

“Promise me, this is the last time you do that.”

His tone had softened and you frowned seeing the glint of worry in his eyes.

“David, what’s the matter ?”

“Promise,” he insisted.

You didn’t need to be a genius to understand something was on his mind.

“David, what happened ?”

“For God's Sake woman ! Once in your life can you accept to obey me even if it goes against your contradictory brain which can bear receiving any orders ?”

Now you could clearly hear his worry and your own anger melted out as fast as it had appeared in the first place.

“I promise.”

He dived his eyes into yours, probing your sincerity.

“David, I swear on our sharing love. I will never do that again. You have my words.”

His face softened in a flourish. He knew you well enough to know when you gave your words, one’s could trust you with their life.

“What happened ?” you asked again, pecking at his lips.

He snaked his arms around you, holding you as tight as he could, giving you a lingering kiss on the crown of your head.

“There was a murder this morning in this same alley where I saw you,” he merely answered. 

You felt your heart melt for the man in front of you, his concerned and sad expression leaving you hurt for him and the hardness of his job. He had been seeing so many horrendous things from corruption to murder, without even talking about blackmail, threatening and bribing colleagues. You sank into him, trying to comfort him by letting him feel how much you loved him.

“David, you shouldn’t let those things work you up so much. I know you have another vision of the world because of your job but you can’t let it lead up your life. Our life.”

“[Y/N], you don’t understand. I can’t put things in perspective to see the world in your way because I know this world doesn’t exist. It is easier for people like you to not think about it and breeze through their life as if it only happened to others, but I know all to well it is not the case. I was a loner before you. You know how much my divorce left me broken apart. I needed alcohol to forget the throes of my suffering and then you arrived and gave me the motivation to be a better man. I didn’t know I was still able to love before you but here we are and you put my life, my mind, upside down. If anything happened to you or my daughter… I… I… I couldn’t get over it. Never.”

You felt your eyes filling with tears by hearing his monologue. Oh God, how much you loved this man. Your heart swelled with a mixture of love and harm for his distress. 

"How did you know I was walking home ?" you whispered, your fingers caressing his cheek.

"I met Meghan at the gas station, your colleague, and she told me she had to give you a lift to go to work. She was annoyed with herself because she hadn't asked you if you needed her to drive you back home."

Out of kindness and worry, David had driven to the bookshop to see it was closed. Therefore, he drove in what was in all likelihood the way you would be likely to take to come back home. When he had seen you walking in the same alley he had to investigate this morning after the discovery by a jogger of a corpse, his blood had run cold. 

You listened attentively to him, trying to coax him with your lingering fingers on his cheek. Seeing that he was still upset about the whole thing, you step back and you tentatively took off your shirt. 

"What are you doing ?" he asked, amazed by your behaviour.

You were the shy type when it came to initiating any sexual activities. David had quickly learnt that if he wanted to make love with you, he would have to be straightforward with you and he enjoyed it most of the time. Being the one in control of your sex life made him revel in it. 

You didn't answer, instead, you took off his tie and you began to unbutton his shirt.

"What gets into you little rascal ?" he asked playfully.

"You. Only you. Always you." you answered, taking off your bra.

You tried your best to not cover your breasts. Even after two years, you felt quite coy under his piercing eyes. You always felt as if he could read your mind and it was likely true because he always knew when you were up for something before you had the time to even think about it. 

"I want to make love with you," you whispered.

His gaze, now burning with an ardent desire made your legs wobbling. 

"Weren't you in for a punishment ?" he asked playfully while he unbuckled his belt. 

"Everything you want," you genuinely answered.

"Everything ?" he repeated while taking off his shirt completely. 

You felt a shiver running through your whole body at the sight of his chest. You trace from the tip of your fingers the slight hair crossing his chest until his belly button, totally mesmerized by his handsomeness. 

"Yes," you whispered.

Without any warning, his lips captured yours and he gave you the most passionate kiss you had ever received. Then, in one swift motion, he lifted you off the floor and your legs encircled his waist. He led you both through the house to your bedroom where he gently threw you on the bed. 

You made a gesture to remove the rest of your clothes but he vividly stopped you. 

"No, I want to do that myself."

And so he began to take off your pants, then, slowly, brazenly, he put down your underwear, kissing down both of your legs during the process. 

When you were finally totally naked in front of him, he admired you for a while, making you blush. Then, eventually, he took off his own pants and underwear while relishing the sight of you totally ready for him, vulnerable and shy under his hazel eyes. 

He put his left hand on your ankle, slowly moving up to your tight. You closed your eyes, bottling up a moan while you felt his lips kissing your other tight. He drew nearer to your pussy, but whereas you thought he was going to kiss you there, he turned you around deftly, releasing a sounding slap on your ass. 

"David !" you almost screamed, surprised by what happened. 

He gave you another slap, harder than the first one and you tried to get up but he prevented you from doing that by poring over you.

"You asked to be punished, no ?" he rumbled to your ear.

You shuddered, aroused by his playfulness. You knew for sure he would never hurt you on purpose and all of this was just a game. An enjoyable game that made your wetness more and more significant. You needed him inside you. 

"David..."

"Hush ! Naughty girls don't get the right to talk," he said, kissing your now burning ass. 

You wiggled a bit beneath him but he stopped you with another slap before turning you over again. You were facing him now and he kissed you savagely, his thumb finding your clit. He rubbed your bundle of nerves at such a slow pace that it was a real torture for you.

"David, please..."

"Hush ! You said I could have everything I want from you. You may do what pleases you in your day-to-day life, but here, in your bedroom, I am the one in control, not you woman !"

You nodded once, acknowledging him the right he was requesting from you. You could let him take the reins in your bed, it didn't hurt you. 

Actually, even if you were to bashful to admit it, you liked his authority around you when you were in the intimacy of your bedroom, relishing in the love of each other, even though making love with David was sometimes quite intense. He could be a tender and passionate lover as he could be rough and intense after a hard day of work. You didn't reallymind because no matter his mood, he was always listening to you, your needs and your own desires. If you weren't in for a quick, rough sex party, then he indulged you without complaint. In fact, it didn't really matter to him as long as you were his. 

"Promise again," he said, making your desire grow and grow with his teasing thumb. 

"I pro... promise," you stuttered.

"You promise what ?" he asked, inserting his finger into you.

You moaned, unable to answer.

"You promise what ?" he growled before sucking one of your nipples.

"I... I won't do that again."

"Do what ?" he insisted, nibbling playfully your nipple.

"Please, David..."

"No reward until I get my answer," he said, kissing your forehead, both of your cheeks, then your lips while a second finger entered you, delightfully scissoring you. 

"I promise... I... David ! Mmmmh ! I promise to never walk alone when it's dark."

"And you will warn me when something happens or if you need my help from now on ?"

He pushed his fingers further, making you arching. 

"Yes, yes ! Yes !"

"Is it a promise ?"

"You have my words. I swear David, I will never frighten you like that again. Never."

"See how you can be a good girl when you want ?" he said, removing his fingers.

"David," you moaned, frustrated by the disappearance of his warm fingers inside you playing deliciously with your cunt. 

He rubbed your wetness along his cock to lubricate it, then, he delicately entered you. He was always careful with you, knowing how sensitive you were and how easily you could bleed if he was too brutal with you during the foreplay. 

He began to thrust at a slow pace inside you while one of your hands found her way to his back and the other to his neck. You made sure to not scratch him as he didn't like it. Instead, you buried your head into the hollow of his neck, kissing him and whispering how much you loved him.

"I love you too [Y/N]. So much that sometimes it is hurtful."

You looked up at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes before he fawned on you, kissing your face, your neck, your breasts.

"David, faster please," you managed to say, revelling the sensation of his warmness inside and over you.

As if it was the signal he was waiting for, he began to thrust inside you faster while your legs found their place around his back. 

"David, I'm coming," you said, trying to hold back your orgasm.

"Come, honey, come for me," he said in his baritone voice.

Two more powerful thrusts and you were totally submerged by your orgasm. Your eyes fluttered while white dots came up to cloud your vision under the intensity of your orgasm. You felt David coming after you, adding more pleasure than you already had. He groaned while his cock throbbed inside you. 

He kissed you while you came down, breathless and lost in the abyss of your love for him, regaining your senses little by little. He gave you a soft kiss on your lips, asking you if you were alright. David wasn't demonstrative in his words but his actions were far more sounding.

"I say the truth," you uttered while he leant up against the headboard. 

You cuddled up at his side, your head on his chest, hearing his heartbeat which was starting to regain his calmness after the whirlwind of your passion. 

"About what ?" he asked, looking at you lovingly.

"I will not do that again. I don't like that when you are mad at me."

His features softened and he pulled you closer. You snuggled against his chest, a sigh of contentment escaping your lips. 

"[Y/N], how many times would I have to tell you that even if we argue, it doesn't mean it is over between us ? Didn't I prove to you time after time you could trust me ?" he chided you gently.

He knew it wasn't your fault and he knew you trusted him but you had gone through some hard times in the past and sometimes, because of your easy character and your almost contaminating smile, he tended to forget how insecure you were deep inside you. 

"I know," you answered.

"It is not our first argument and there will be another one. I think it is quite healthy in fact that we can have disagreements from time to time. Life would be boring if you were nothing else than a little obedient wife."

"So, at the end of the day you like my stubbornness ?" you asked brazenly. 

"I like the whole of you. The qualities and the shortcomings. How you smile each time you catch me looking at you, how you blush when I am teasing you but more than anything else, I like that you're always there for me when I need it and I know it is more than often that I asked you to come through for me."

"I am happy to be your person David. I understand how your job is stressful and I am honoured to be the one helping you to release the pressure of the day."

You were so proud of him, how he had fought his old demons to be in a happy and healthy relationship with you and you weren't easily deceived, despite his rough edge and sarcasm, deep down, you were well aware he was still hurt by the betrayal of his ex-wife and sometimes, he too was afraid to lose you for someone else, someone who could be better than him, even though for you David was the perfect one, the one you had looked for so long. For too long, if you were asked. 

"Am I forgiven ?" you whispered, the sleep catching you up.

"[Y/N], you have nothing to be forgiven for. I was just so afraid when I saw you there. Sometimes, only sometimes, I need you to listen to me."

"I promised you I will and I will," you repeated firmly.

David said something but you were already drifting into sleep and you didn't hear it. When your answer didn't come, he looked down at you to see your sleepy form lovingly snuggled against him, searching for solace in his arms. He kissed the top of your head with a fond smile.

"I love you [Y/N]."

Yes, he loved you far more than words could express it. His thought drifted to the ring in his drawer and he internally smiled. 

"And sound, calling you my wife will be more official than you can think," he whispered, conscious you couldn't hear him now that you were sleeping soundly against him.

He looked at your chest raising and falling slowly, a small happy smile on your lips and he felt a surge of happiness and affection. You were definitely the best thing that could have happened to him and he would do everything he could to keep you safe. 

Slowly, his eyes closed and he fell asleep still holding you firmly against him. You were his anchor. You were his lighthouse in the stormy ocean that was his hectic life, you were his light in the dark. 

You were his. 

[suzukiblu]

is there a way to read all of "JayKon soulmates, TimKon datemates, and the wrong Superboy." in one spot? going through the tag it's all jumbled, and it's one of my favorite fics of yours

Thank you! I like that one, I'm really pleased with how it's been coming out. ❤

Honestly, there is not an "all in one place" version of it, though, so have this read-more that will fix that problem for you, friend. This is the whole WIP so far (barring, like, some out-of-order bits that have not yet been woven into the larger whole, haha).

.

There's a couple of ways to ID a soulmate, but the traditional–and usual–one is a kiss. Basically any exchange of bodily fluids will do it, of course, but most people kiss way before they get around to fucking bareback and a kiss is also definitely less likely to result in hepatitis than swapping blood with strangers. And, like, it's also more romantic and that tends to appeal to people more even when the involved soulmates aren't actually romantic. It's way easier to laugh off that one time you slipped your destined BFF tongue than it is to explain a bloodborne illness to your GP. 

So naturally, Jason finds out who his soulmate is by accidentally bleeding all over the guy in the middle of a random stupid throwdown with supervillains in San Francisco.

Also, naturally said guy is Tim's boyfriend who still justifiably hates Jason's ass for all the fucked-up shit he's done and said to Tim. 

Jason is pretty sure this would count as another reason for Superboy to hate his ass, except the one mercy in this situation is that Superboy was unconscious for their accidental blood-swap, so he at least doesn't know they're soulmates. 

The lucky bastard.

Fuck everything, Jason thinks, and then resolves to never think about it again. Which he doesn't, because even having a thought around Bruce is basically the same thing as handing the bastard a signed confession. 

It sucks, admittedly? Like, Jason's not gonna pretend it doesn't suck. He didn't ever think he'd get a coffee shop meet-cute with his soulmate, assuming he had enough of a soul left to actually have one, but he'd at least expected to get somebody who wasn't already dating the brother he's treated worst and who did not, ideally, hate his guts. 

Or who at least hated his guts in a sexy way that could result in a nice enemies-with-benefits situation to spice up his sex life and maybe hopefully one day evolve into . . . he doesn't know, frenemies-with-benefits? Or something? 

Superboy is not gonna be up for cheating on his boyfriend with said boyfriend's adoptive brother, Jason is very damn sure. For one thing, if he was, Jason wouldn't want to fuck him anyway, much less be his soulmate. Jason is a murderer and a bastard but he is also a ride or die, okay, and he doesn't give a shit what the universe says, there is no damn way that he'd accept a soulmate like that. 

Also, like, since the accidental blood-swap went down, now when they get close enough there's an empathy bond going and Jason can absolutely feel how fucking besotted Superboy is by every little thing Tim does and says and just is. 

And he can also feel how much the guy hates him. 

Jason has never had better control of his pit rage than since realizing that if Superboy ever felt it, it'd be absolutely undeniably obvious what it was and where it was coming from. 

It is fucking amazing what a desperate person can get a handle on. Like, really. 

Jason went to fucking therapy for this shit. It sucks and he hates it and he wants to burn down the whole stupid office every time, but he's still going every week because fuck forbid he lose control enough that somebody realize something is up. 

Jason's self-control is not helped by the fact that Superboy has his own anger issues, but it's not like they get all that close to each other all that often anyway. He very rarely has to worry about Superboy picking up on anything from him. Mostly he just has to worry about not being any worse to Tim than he already has been and making excuses to avoid any situation that Superboy might theoretically pop up in. He has absolutely no designs on fucking up Tim's relationship. Ever. 

He guesses he and Superboy could have a platonic bond, admittedly. Like, that's possible.

Except Superboy constantly insists on wearing a painted-on bodysuit and studded black leather and strappy belts and looking like a porn star parody of a superhero, along with regularly smirking like a cocky asshole who just so happens to be the second coming of sin, and Jason has a very difficult time not finding all of that just unspeakably hot, so that seems unlikely. 

So yeah, Jason's definitely not telling anyone that they're soulmates. Possibly ever. At least not as long as Superboy and Tim are still into each other and in undeniably perfect romantic love, anyway. 

It's not like Jason's waiting for them to break up or something, or for the probably likelier but much more upsetting option that is Tim fucking dying. He's a bastard, again, but he's not that kind of a bastard.

He really hopes this is just one of those bullshit bonds that don't actually become relevant until the involved bondmates are, like, octogenarians or whatever. Which is not something Jason would've ever expected to want from his soulmate, but Jason also did not ever expect his soulmate to turn out to be Tim's boyfriend, so yeah. Well, life's a bitch and also full of surprises. 

It's impossible to always avoid Superboy, all things considered, but Jason usually can, and thanks to Bat-training and his time with the League and just who he is as a person he's very good at keeping his emotions on lockdown when the dude's around without it actually looking like he's keeping his emotions on lockdown. Mostly he just ignores him and acts like he thinks he's irrelevant, and Superboy seems perfectly happy with that. 

But again, it's impossible to always avoid him, and they're on the same side and everything, more or less. Jason therefore can't technically bitch about the guy randomly landing in the middle of his rooftop stakeout wearing that cocky asshole smirk of his and also his painted-on bodysuit and studded black leather. 

Or he couldn't, except that it is very obviously not actually Superboy wearing all those things. For starters, Superboy never wears that smirk when he's looking at Jason.

For another thing, Jason knows his own damn soulmate when he sees him. Like, he is not actually that oblivious or stupid a person as to not recognize his own damn soulmate. 

"Hey, man," fake Superboy greets casually as his boots hit the roof. Jason runs the internal numbers on whether or not fake Superboy has real Kryptonian powers and decides better safe than sorry, then hits the panic button hidden in the collar of his jacket as he turns to fully face him, making the gesture look like an idle adjustment. 

"Robin need something?" he asks, cocking his head questioningly. Seems wisest to pretend like he's falling for this bullshit, whatever it is. Especially if Kryptonian powers are currently a concern. 

"Naw," the fake Superboy says, his smirk widening crookedly. "This one's an . . . off-the-books social call, as it were." 

"Oh, we make social calls, now?" Jason asks dryly, resisting the irrational urge to hit his panic button again. Not actually a helpful urge, that. The thing's already streaming live audio and video to Oracle and the Batcomputer to get everyone in the loop on what the problem is, that's all that matters. Extra hitting would just make it likelier that fake Superboy might notice something. 

"Maybe I just wanted to see you, Hood," fake Superboy says as his smirk turns into a wicked grin, and then steps towards Jason with very familiar and incredibly unsubtle body language that, again, has never once been directed towards him. 

Goddammit. 

Well, good thing Jason hit his panic button, because there is no damn way this is ending well. He's never actually used the thing before, it's a recent addition to his gear now that he and the Bats are actually mostly working together again, but he already appreciates said addition very, very much. 

Assuming that Bruce is packing kryptonite tonight, anyway. 

Fuck, he'd better be. 

. . . also assuming that whoever this fake Superboy is happens to be vulnerable to kryptonite. Or at least currently happens to be vulnerable to kryptonite. Jason's not sure if this is like a bodyswap situation or a more traditional possession or just a doppelganger or a shapeshifter, but who the hell even knows. Not mind control, he's pretty sure, unless it's the kind that really fucks with somebody's personality. Like, yes, that is Superboy's body language and Superboy's facial expressions and even Superboy's microexpressions, but it's just . . . not Superboy behind any of it. Like, very obviously not. 

. . . weirdly obviously, actually. Like, Jason's really feeling the uncanny valley right now. 

Ugh. 

Well, hopefully this person or thing or weird psychic projection thinks he's fucking stupid. 

"Did you now," Jason says, eyeing fake Superboy through his helmet. Schooling his expression doesn't really matter right now, except of course X-ray vision is a thing, so actually never mind, maybe it does. Again: goddammit. 

Definitely gonna need to keep a handle on his heart rate here.

"Eh, what can I say, Rob was being a basic bitch again and I got bored," fake Superboy says with a dismissive shrug, which is something Jason would pistol-whip the real Superboy for saying but at least provides him a pretty solid script to go off while he waits for reinforcements to show. 

He'd rather be making with the pistol-whipping, though. 

"'Bored', huh," he says instead because if this is somebody hitching a ride in or fully copying Superboy's body, there is no fucking way that he is coming out on top in a one-v-one with a Kryptonian hybrid. He might be able to get away, maybe, but then he'd be leaving a probably pissed-off fake Superboy with free rein on his territory and every reasonably innocent person in it. 

Yeah, that seems like a stupid idea. 

"What can I say, I like a bad boy," fake Superboy says, smirking at him again. Jason would be embarrassingly into that smirk, if not for the fact that it's not Superboy wearing it. Right now, he just wants to deck this fucker. "Don't you?" 

"I could maybe see the appeal," Jason says, though he doesn't usually. Honestly, he's more a romantic than anything else. He knows he won't ever get that, especially considering what he's done and who his soulmate is and how very, very disgustingly in love with his brother said soulmate is, but–not the point. Either way, Jason's not gonna be honest about his taste in partners with a damn fake version of his goddamn soulmate. 

"Yeah, I bet you could," fake Superboy says with a wider smirk as he steps in a little closer, all the way into Jason's personal space. All of Jason's internal alarms go off, his spine prickling in restless discomfort. 

He really, really hopes Bruce is packing kryptonite tonight. 

“We're taking bets now?” Jason snorts dubiously. Fake Superboy grins at him, and it's worse than the smirking because it's not just a suggestive come-on, it's one of the pleased looks the real Superboy would never give him. Something he saves for Tim or Steph or Dick or literally just anyone else. He's pretty sure he's seen him grin like that at Bruce, even. 

Though it admittedly does lack some of its usual effect when Jason can't feel any of the emotions behind it. 

“You can take anything you want, Hood,” fake Superboy purrs, skimming a hand up Jason's chest. If he were Superboy, this would be the part where Jason called him an asshole and asked him what the fuck he thought he was doing, except if he were Superboy he'd never actually be doing this. Superboy loves Tim. Adores him. And he's not a desperate for attention teenager anymore, much less this kind of a selfish fucking prick. 

So Jason is just stuck on this stupid fucking roof with a stupid fucking fake, and this fucking funhouse mirror is the closest he's ever getting to his own fucking soulmate. 

The wait on this damn panic button better be a short one. 

“‘Anything’, huh,” he says, folding his arms. The fake Superboy gives him another smirk and taps his fingers against the underside of Jason's jaw, just where his helmet fastens. 

The fastener clicks, and his helmet falls apart and falls right off him and into fake Superboy's hands. Jason should've left the bomb in it. 

Tactile telekinesis. Okay. So the fucker does have access to Superboy's powers, one way or another. 

Fuck. 

At least Jason wore his domino tonight. He doesn't know what this asshole actually knows, and he might be legally dead, but compromising any Bat-related identities is still not the place to start. 

“You're too damn hot to wear this clunky-ass thing all the time, you know,” fake Superboy says, turning over Jason's helmet in his hands and still smirking at him. Jason would really like to make with the pistol-whipping right now. “Real waste of a pretty face.” 

“We don't all have bulletproof skulls,” Jason says dryly, and fake Superboy laughs. 

“You'd be bulletproof if I got my hands on you,” fake Superboy points out casually, which is not actually an application of TTK Jason was aware of but does raise a lot of questions he is not going to internally explore. Ever.

“Who said you were getting your hands on me?” he says, and the fake Superboy laughs and taps his fingers against Jason’s helmet. 

“Dunno,” he says, tilting his head with a sly expression. “I wouldn’t mind it the other way around either, though.” 

Fuck his life, Jason thinks. 

“I’m on the clock here, you realize,” he says, and fake Superboy laughs again and then pulls a mock-pout. 

“C’mon, Hood. Told you, I’m bored,” he says, somehow actually managing to find the space to step in closer without quite touching him. His grin is a sharp, glittering thing. “Play hooky with me.” 

This panic button cannot possibly work fast enough, Jason thinks. 

“Fuck it, whatever,” he says, because fake Superboy is clearly not taking no for an answer here and he just needs to buy a little time for someone to get here. Hell, even if fake Superboy were taking no for an answer, he’d probably still want to keep the asshole around as opposed to letting him slip off and put on who knows who else’s face. Better to get him while they’ve got him clocked, one way or the other. “It’s been dead all night anyway. What do you want?” 

Fake Superboy’s grin widens. If he was the real one, Jason would want to bite him over that expression. Unfortunately, he’s not the real one. Again: fuck his fucking life. 

“For starters, bet I could liven things up for you,” fake Superboy purrs, and then he props Jason’s helmet on his cocked hip and braces his free hand on the bricks behind him, leaning in close with an absolutely smug “coy” expression. Jason considers biting him in the not fun way. 

Eh, no, he’d probably just break his fucking teeth. 

It’s a fucking temptation, though. 

“Yeah?” Jason drawls dubiously. “Big talk for a Super.” 

Fake Superboy snickers. 

“Yeah, they tell me I’ve got a big mouth,” he says with an obvious leer. “Wanna see?” 

“Do you ever shut the fuck up?” Jason asks, curling his lip in irritation, and fake Superboy laughs. 

And then actually kisses him, the fucking shit. 

Jason barely manages not to punch him for it. Again, he’d just break his knuckles. 

The fake Superboy sticks his tongue in Jason's mouth and Jason gets absolutely no sense of a soulmate bond, so whatever's going on, Superboy is definitely not in the driver's seat right now, or just not home at all or what the fuck ever. So yeah, that's a no on mind control and probably also possession, and definitely not the effects of red or black K. Not that the total lack of empathy bond response all this time hadn't already proven that pretty damn thoroughly, considering. 

Also, the real Superboy's always had a rep as a flirt and if nothing else definitely spends way too much time in Tim's back pocket to not be a better kisser than this by now. Seriously, Jason refuses to believe that he is not, if only for Tim's sake. This prick kisses like he barely understands the concept.

Fucking figures, Jason thinks, and crushes their mouths together. 

Fake Superboy kisses like a fucking middle schooler, and Jason is absolutely exasperated about having to put up with it. Like–it’d be one thing if it was actually Superboy kissing him like this, and if Superboy wasn’t dating his fucking brother. Then he’d probably think it was funny. Or even kind of cute, honestly, especially with how the guy preens and postures and plays it up. 

And then he’d get to teach him how to kiss better, too, and fucking relish the process. 

This, unfortunately, is not that situation. This is just some asshole wearing the face of the hottest bastard Jason knows and not doing it justice with his sub-par kissing skills.

. . . actually–“her” sub-par kissing skills, maybe? Jason actually has no fucking clue if this is a man or a woman, does he. For all he knows this is an actual middle schooler, which holy fucking Christ, is an absolutely disgusting thought. If this is some kid with shapeshifting powers who somebody coached into this, Jason is going to crack out the good ol’ bloody duffel bag and start collecting heads again. 

He’s pretty sure they’re not, at least, because they might suck at kissing but they don’t move like their body is too big or anything like that. Then again, they don’t move like their body doesn’t fit either, so their powers might be accounting for that. Or–whatever they’ve currently got going. Maybe it’s a fucking spell or maybe it is possession and the muscle memory is keeping Superboy’s body moving at least semi-normally. Again: this asshole has this act down to the microexpressions. 

It’s just so, so screamingly obviously fake all the same, though. 

Jason breaks off the kiss to bare his teeth at said fake, who grins at him all crooked and sultry-warm. Jason, again, debates the merits of breaking his knuckles on this asshole’s face. 

“You can’t kiss for shit,” Jason says bluntly, because only a fucking idiot wouldn’t notice that anyway, and fake Superboy laughs. 

“Aw, you don’t like it like Rob does?” he asks teasingly, his grin widening as he leans forward a little heavier on the arm he has against the bricks. Jason is absolutely fucking offended that fake Superboy is trying to convince him that any brother of his would ever settle for kissing that fucking mediocre, much less like it. As fucking if. “Why don’t you show me what you like, Hood? I’ll roll out the red carpet."

Jason should tase this piece of shit. Jason should <i>shoot</i> this piece of shit. Unfortunately, this still might be Superboy’s body even without him in it, and he didn’t pack kryptonite tonight either way. Assuming, again, that kryptonite would even work. 

He’s absolutely never skipping the kryptonite again, though. Not after this bullshit. He’s going full Lex Luthor and getting himself a pair of kryptonite brass knuckles, in fact. And not in blue: he’s going green. 

“You really think I wanna hear about Robin right now?” he says in the hopes the fucker will shut up a little, and fake Superboy just smirks and loops his arm around his neck, pressing fully up against him. Jason is wearing body armor, obviously, but that doesn’t make him feel particularly safe right now. The TTK alone would be an issue, even discounting Kryptonian strength. Fake Superboy could flatten him like a fucking panini with about as much effort as actually making a panini would take right now. 

So like, that’s a concern. 

“So still the jealous type, huh?” fake Superboy purrs, tilting his head a little. He’s much better at “come-hither” looks than he is at kissing, Jason can’t help noticing, which is fucking irritating. He’s also still got Jason’s helmet held against his hip. Jason is weirdly annoyed by that. “How about I just call you ‘Robin’ tonight, then?” 

Jason did so much therapy to not have this exact fucking fucked-up sexual fantasy. Just so much. 

He is definitely shooting this shithead before the night is over. 

“Try it and I’ll shoot you in the fucking dick,” he says flatly, because there’s playing along and there’s shit he just cannot truck with, and fake Superboy laughs.

“Kinky,” he says approvingly. Jason thinks longingly of kryptonite. 

He really, really hopes kryptonite works on this fucker. It’d have to, right? TTK isn’t exactly a standard-issue superpower; the fake’s got to at least have copied Superboy’s body, and that means copying his vulnerabilities. 

Hopefully. 

Of course, Jason doesn’t actually know jack shit about what’s actually going on here and narrowing it down isn’t working half as well as it could be, so . . . fuck if he actually knows if it’d work. 

He really doesn’t appreciate not being prepared in a crisis. Like–that is the literal antithesis of his entire fucking approach to life, is what it is. 

He’s going to need an extra therapy session this week, he’s pretty sure. Possibly several. Maybe he’ll just call his therapist first thing after they wrap this bullshit up, actually, assuming he survives it. That might be for the best. 

Or literally psychologically fucking necessary so he won’t snap and turn into a literal supervillain. One or the other. 

“You’re seriously overestimating my patience, Superboy,” he says flatly. The fake looks pleased, presumably because he still thinks Jason’s falling for this stupid act. 

“Don’t be such a pill,” fake Superboy says, smirking at him. The idea of pistol-whipping him sounds better and better. It’s almost definitely not gonna work, yeah, but that doesn’t mean Jason wouldn’t try it. “Why don’t you just be nice to me, and I’ll give you plenty of reasons not to be jealous tonight. Or at least don’t bore me as bad as Rob’s been, if nothing else."

Jason is going to burn down . . . mmmmmaybe all of Gotham tonight, actually. Like. Just all of it. Completely. Entirely.

[citizensun]

Queerness and the House of Usher (spoilers!)

See I just added these Thoughts to the tags in @quecksilvereyes 's post but now I have Feelings too

TFotHoU (or HoU, as I will refer to it here), as expected from a Mike Flannagan show, has a bunch of Queer Rep™ to talk about. HoU is, also, about remarkably evil people - amoral capitalists who'll step over anyone if it means they'll get something from it. And look! Some of them are queer! Kinky too!

That's bad queer representation... right?

The show isn't that clear when stablishing sexualities, but we see that at least three of the Usher kids - Napoleon, Camille and Victorine - have same sex SOs/assistants with curious job descriptions. Prospero's taste for orgies probably implies queerness too, but honestly I don't remember if he gets it going with any guys in the story. I honestly have no idea about Tamerlane's voyerism thingie and Frederick is the only one with a "traditional family" going on.

Unrelated, but: Leo is definitely cheating on his bf Julius. Completely dismissing about his worries for him too. And for his cat. That's objectively evil, clearly. Vic literally killed her fiancée Alessandra, though she didn't stuff her under the floorboard, which is an L when compared to Poe's original. Cam doesn't believe in true love. Perry blackmailed his sister in law. Mean. He's also got a surprisingly high kill count for the family's disappointment, but since unlike Roderick he only killed rich people, we stan. I don't belong in Kinky spaces so I haven't got a big take on Tammie, only that - well, she's completely dismissing of her husband and sees him as a prop, just like the sex worker she hires.

Huh.

See, the nature of a story called "the fall of X family" is that X family is going to be the main character. The title kinda implies that they're falling for a reason, ergo, they're despicable fucking people. And they're queer! They're very queer. Many flavors of gay. They're the main characters, and they're monsters, and they're gay.

No, that's not bad rep.

Queerness as a movement, a community and a theory is very focused on scaping a cisheteronormative society's binaries (ie man/woman, husband/wife, public/private) and creating living conditions to those who fall outside of these categories - mlms and wlws, the trans, the nbs, the aros and aces... we are all queer, strange and estranged from this weird and limited worldview. And so we create a community for ourselves. It's very focused on care and anti-stablishment. Since a cisheteronormative society tends to be very white, rich and western, it's also focuses on anti-racism, anti-capitalism, anti-imperialism. Y'all know that, this is Tumblr and we love leftist Discourse.

I also know many, many gay people irl who are not like that at all. Libertarians, anarcho-capitalists, terfs, completely apolitical people and the like. Sexuality at it's core is personal, not political, so there are gay people out there who are perfectly comfortable with their sexuality on an individual level but do not see the point of getting involved in the broader context. They're queer, but are they...?

Well—

Not to mention there's lots of asshole gays out there! Don't you have a shitty ex? Have you never been almost run over by a drunken butch who blew cigar smoke into your face? I have! Life experiences are just like that. Maybe you should touch more grass. You'll probably find a lucky gift from your neighbour's dog, who is an astrology-obsessed bisexual and also really hot but stopped making out with you at a party once she found out you're a pisces (the neighbour, not the dog).

(Granted, none of this is as bad as implanting an experimental heart contraption into the fiancée you just killed because she dared to have ethical principles and then being so consumed with grief you stab yourself in front you'd your dad but you know how it goes. We're not the 1%.)

My point is, queer people are people. We are complex. We fuck up, and sometimes there's still times to fix things and sometimes... there isn't. We're consumed by jealousy and regret and sometimes we're so locked into our own head we stop believing the rest of the world is real too. Just like any other people, because unfortunately, queerness isn't a sign of morality.

And even if queerness does mean community, kindness and acceptance, tell me... Where the hell would the Usher kids get those from? The people around them are not really peers – they're ass-istants, blowjob-giving apartments, orgy mates, heart surgery providers, hired fitness moneybags, perfect housewives. Even if the partners are all shown to care for the Ushers, there's still a distance, a power gap, that makes the relationships fundamentally wrong.

And the partners? Arguably they're the good queer rep in the show, but look – even when Julius and Alessandra are shown to be good people (or at least people with an ethical boundary), they're not the good gays, they're simply the good SO's to a family of psychos. Exactly like Bill and Morrie, who afawk are straight people.

Which leads us to HoU's parameter of morality - Auguste Dupin. He refuses to drink the Amontillado, symbol of all the Usher opulence over the years. He got screwed over by the Usher twins and by the Raven herself, but he refused to cave in (except for the informant part, admittedly). He's not a good gay guy; he is gay and he is a good man.

The fundamental difference between our show's main tragic yaoi couple isn't that Auggie is a happily out gay man (and therefore is good) while Roderick is a sad divorced hetero (and therefore is bad). Auggie is the richer man because he is a good man; he has a spouse and children and grandchildren he loves with all his heart. He has a family and a community and he has found a sort of happiness no money can buy. Roderick owns the world – but what does he really have? What do his children even have? How could they ever build communities for themselves if they were never in one? Their father made them compete for his love. He never nurtured their bonds, he just showered them with money and excess until it was too much for them to handle. Juno herself pointed out - they were never a family. The House of Usher was only that. A house. It is empty and soulless.

What is queerness without a community? How could the people who represent the relentless corporate normativity and cutthroat capitalism ever be good queer rep? How can they even be queer?

Hear me out: on the most individual, simple level, being queer is still about not fitting in. These kids are bastards. They are are PoC and women in a predominantly male and white dominated space. They're on top of the world, but they're still outsiders to their own House. How could they not be queer?

And yes, I know this discussion takes a different turn when it comes to representation in media, but it's not like Flannagan fell into a Hays Code-era flamboyant villain trope. Queerness is just there. Just like Victorine and August are both black people in (arguably) the opposite ends of the morality spectrum, there are queer characters of many kinds here. The story just happens to be about the fucked up ones.

HoU is a poignant critique of capitalism and a surprisingly funny adaptation of Poe. We'll judge it by that. It happens to be queer – more things should be.