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beargyu313 · 6 days ago

Text

Teach me all about your love language

It was supposed to be a chill night with friends and rosé, not you practically crying and begging Soobin to eat you out like he means it

Oops.

Tags: pussy eating, begging, desperation, cheating, forbidden romance, pussy drunk Soobin, hair pulling, some spanking,,, that’s it really

CW: the ending is kinda angsty :O

WC: 4.1k

A/N: Back with another TXT fic :),, this fic was inspired by my munch urges:( (hence all the begging hehe), hope everyone likes it<3

MDNI as always, this is a fictional work that is not representative of anyone mentioned in the story.

You don't know why you came to this hang out really. Soohyun said it would only be you and your other friend Karina. But of course she had to bring her boyfriend – Beomgyu. And since he was here Soohyun also decided to invite Kai, who she swears she isn’t crushing on, but you don’t believe her. And now you’re in your current predicament, fifth wheeling (?) and sitting on Soohyun’s couch in a dress that’s way too short and way too sexy to not even go out in. I mean really, if they wanted to go on a double date they should’ve just said so. But no, now you’re wasting a very sexy outfit by switching through the TV channels.

It's just past 9 p.m. and somehow you guys are already halfway through your second bottle of Rosé. The front door creaks open, and you barely look up, expecting maybe another friend of Beomgyu's or someone Soohyun forgot to mention. Instead, it’s him.

Soobin.

Your best friend's older brother, who hasn’t been around in months thanks to his new girlfriend who insists on spending every single minute with him. Disheveled hair, hoodie sleeves pushed up, car keys still in hand. He pauses in the doorway like he wasn’t expecting a full house. His eyes skim over the room, landing briefly on Beomgyu and Kai. His jaw ticks. And then

He sees you.

For a beat, he doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. Just looks. His gaze drops slowly and you can almost feel his touch on your exposed legs. Flustered, you slightly adjust yourself, crossing your legs over. You suddenly forget how to hold the remote. Or breathe.

“Didn’t know we were hosting tonight,” he says, voice low and dry. He glances at Soohyun, but his eyes flick back to you for a split second longer than they should.

Soohyun rolls her eyes from across the room. “It’s chill. Just a couple people.”

Soobin hums, noncommittal. Soobin hums, noncommittal. Then walks off toward the kitchen, tossing his keys onto the counter with a metallic clatter that makes Soohyun flinch.

She leans toward you a second later. “Ugh, he’s gonna say something. Come with me? Just in case he tries to act like Dad.”

You follow her, still gripping your cup, definitely not because you’re curious to see Soobin up close or whatever.

He doesn’t look up when you both step in. Just opens the fridge, grabs a water bottle, and unscrews the cap with one hand like he's annoyed it even exists.

“You know,” he says without looking at her, “I didn’t think you were the type to invite over a bunch of drunk guys while Mom and Dad are gone.”

Soohyun scoffs immediately. “Relax. Beomgyu’s with Karina, and Kai's the shyest person on earth. You act like I invited the whole frat house.”

Soobin finally turns to face her, but his eyes flick to you. And this time, he lets them stay for a second too long.

He tilts his head slightly, still speaking to Soohyun, but his gaze is on you when he says, “Still, you know how guys are. Anything could happen.”

“Soobin, chill,” you say, voice lighter than you feel. “Besides, I don’t think anything stupid's gonna happen.”

Soobin finally looks away, smiling faintly like he knows you’re lying.

“Sure,” he says. “If you say so.” And with that he leaves you guys, going upstairs. You swallow down the urge to follow him up. Seeing him and speaking to him after having not seen him for months, has made you realize just how much you missed him. It's not like you have a crush or anything, but the tension between you two always seems to build whenever you're left alone. Which isn't often and is even less often now that he has a girlfriend.

It's probably for the best that you haven't seen him, you should avoid him really, lest you embarrass yourself. And with that thought you pour yourself another glass of rosé, and begrudgingly return to the living room.

You do your best to shake it off, his voice, that look. But it lingers in your head like the rosé warming your throat. You try not to read into it. Like you always do. Always think he means something more when he talks to you like that, stares at you like that. You wish it didn’t make your heart race.

Back in the living room, Soohyun’s laughing too loud at something Beomgyu said, Karina’s half-asleep on the carpet, and you’re once again stuck hugging your drink like a lifeline. You scroll mindlessly on your phone, legs tucked under you, pretending not to check the hallway every few minutes.

And then you hear them. Footsteps.

Soobin’s coming back downstairs, his hair damp now, like he just stepped out of a quick shower. He’s in a black hoodie and gray sweats. Looking casual yet it doesn’t stop you from clenching your thighs together. You look up right as he passes the living room entrance and that’s when it happens.

His eyes catch yours. Linger.

It’s subtle, almost nothing. But he rakes his gaze over you slowly, like he’s cataloging everything you’re wearing. Bare legs, glossed lips, the way your top hugs your chest when you shift to sit up straighter. He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t nod. Just looks. And keeps walking toward the kitchen again.

You hesitate. But your legs move before you can stop them.

You follow him into the kitchen, again.

When you step into the kitchen, he’s got the fridge open, looking like he’s deciding on another soda. He glances over his shoulder at you without turning fully around. “You run out of wine already?”

You shrug. “Something like that.”

His eyes flick down to your legs again, then back to your face. You lean against the counter across from him, sip slowly from your cup, and cock your head.

“Your girlfriend must be blind if she let you walk around like that.” For a moment, silence. No smile. No teasing comeback. Just his eyes on you.

“You think she’d care,” he says, low and even, “if I let you look instead?”

You think your brain shortcuts in that moment, and now all you can hear is the if I let you look instead? looping in your skull. You laugh but it comes out too soft, too breathy.

“I didn’t say I was looking,” you say, voice almost convincing. Soobin raises an eyebrow, then shuts the fridge. “Right. Just happened to follow me in here. Twice.”

You open your mouth. Close it again. God, he’s annoying. And right.

He leans back against the counter now, beer bottle dangling loosely from his hand. There’s something unreadable in his expression, like he’s sizing you up. Not in a gross way. In a curious way. Like he’s finally trying to figure out if you’re really as innocent as you pretend to be.

Or if he’s safe to keep playing with fire. If his sister potentially finding out is worth having this moment with you.

“I thought you weren’t staying here anymore,” you say after a second, desperate to shift the energy even a little. “Soohyun said you practically live at your girlfriend’s place now.”

His mouth twitches. Not quite a smile. “Yeah, well.”

You raise your brows, waiting. He shrugs. “She’s been... weird lately.” That’s all he gives you. No dramatic explanation. Just a tired, half-hearted answer, like he doesn’t really want to talk about it but doesn’t want to lie either.

“So... you’re fighting?”

He snorts, then drinks. “We’re always fighting.”

Your stomach flips at that. You shouldn’t care. You really shouldn’t care. But it suddenly feels like a door cracked open, even just a little. And Soobin seems to note the subtle shift in you demeanor.

He glances at you again. “Why? You worried I’m off-limits?”

You take a sip, eyes locked with his over the rim of your glass. “You were never on limits.”

Soobin smiles really smiles this time and it’s so devastatingly smug you want to smack it off his face. Or kiss it.

“You’re cute when you lie,” he says quietly. “Terrible at it. But cute.”

He steps closer. Not much, but it’s close enough that you can smell the soft scent of his shampoo, boyish but with undertones of something more, something that makes you dizzy.

You don’t move.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you murmur, eyes dropping to his mouth.

He lets out a quiet laugh. “Like what?”

You glance back up, all wide-eyed and flushed and still pretending to play it cool. “Like you know what I’m thinking.”

“I do.”

You open your mouth to deny it, but he tilts his head slightly, and that shuts you up real fast. Soobin’s voice lowers. “You’ve been looking at me all night.”

You swallow. He can see you trying not to react. “That’s not true.”

Soobin always thought you’ve always been cute when you lie. But this? The way you’re looking at him now, like you don’t want him to notice the way your thighs press together when he leans in, like your pulse isn’t visible in your neck, this is something else entirely. He’s never seen you quite this wanting and needy before, and it’s beyond exhilarating. Addicting even.

You’re flustered, and Soobin likes that. He likes the soft bite of your lip, the nervous way you tuck your hair behind your ear like you’re not trying to draw attention to yourself. Like he hasn’t been looking at your legs since the moment he walked in.

You try to speak, say something but he doesn’t even register what. It’s background noise to how hot you look, pressed up against the counter in that skirt, pretending like you’re not dying for him to touch you.

“Right. Just coincidence that every time I turn around, you’re staring at my mouth?”

You blink, caught.

God, you’re so easy to read. It’s cute, really. Dangerous. But cute. And he should walk away. He knows he should. You’re his sister’s friend. He has a girlfriend. But none of that really feels important when you’re right in front of him like this, pupils blown wide, breathing like you’ve just run a mile, practically trembling in that tiny little outfit like you want him to wreck you right here.

He watches you for a moment longer. Lets the silence stretch just enough to make you nervous. Then he leans close enough that you can feel his breath. He still hasn’t even touched you and that makes you on edge, anticipating his touch. You struggle to even your breath, but you know he notices the way your eyes can’t meet his intense gaze.

“We haven’t fucked in weeks,” he says, voice soft, confessional. “Always some excuse. Too tired. Not in the mood.” Your eyes flick up, searching his face.

“And I can’t stop thinking about how badly I want it,” he goes on. “How badly I want to taste someone again. Someone cute, someone who needs guidance, needs it just as badly as I do.”

You gasp involuntary, and it shoots straight through him.

He continues, slight smirk on his face as he leans in, lips almost touching, “I could eat it for hours,” he murmurs. “If you asked me to, it’s not cheating,” he says, eyes locked on yours. “Not if I don’t fuck you.”

He watches your lips part, the hesitation flickering behind your eyes like a dying match. You want to say something. Maybe a protest. Maybe a plea.

“All focus would be on you,” he says, voice dipped in honey and sin. “Your pleasure. That’s all this would be. Just me helping you scratch that itch you can’t quite reach.” His gaze drops, slow and deliberate. “I haven’t even touched you yet, and you’re already trembling.”

A beat passes. Then another. Your breath shudders in your chest.

“It’s cute, actually,” he adds, eyes flicking up to meet yours again. “Really makes me wanna help you feel good. I think that’s fair, don’t you?”

Your brain is fogged, every thought slipping through your fingers like smoke. You look up at him, helpless. Instinct takes over before sense can catch up. And Soobin smiles. Soft, knowing, cruel. He can see what you're fighting. The need in your eyes, the slight part of your lips. He wonders how you’ll look when that control finally breaks, flushed, eyes glassy, mouth slack.

You speak, finally, but even your voice betrays you. “We shouldn’t do this, Soobin,” you whisper. “Soohyun’s gonna kill me. And your girlfriend— I really should leave.”

You try to step away, but he doesn’t budge. His tall frame shadows yours, blocking the exit like a decision you don’t want to make.

“You’re not doing anything wrong,” he murmurs. “You’re just letting me help you feel good.”

Then he leans in, fingers brushing against your hip, just enough pressure to make your skin twitch under his touch. Just enough to remind you how close he is. How much closer he could be.

“You want me to show you?” he says, voice a whisper against your ear. “What it feels like… when someone actually gives a fuck about your pleasure?”

You nod. Soobin pulls back, looking down at you as if trying to intimidate you.

“Use your words, baby.”

You swallow hard. “Yes.”

His brow lifts, unimpressed. “I think you can do better than that.”

Your stomach flips. His voice is calm, soft and annoyingly patient. A small part of you feels humiliated, begging your best friend’s brother to fuck you. But you stifle that feeling.

Your lips are in a subconscious pout as you look up at him, chest heaving and back arching, “Soobin, please,” you say, “I promise I’ll be good, just please-“

He steps back, his gaze unreadable. You actually whine.

“Come on.” His voice is quieter now, low and direct. “My room.”

You follow. You don’t even hesitate. Every step feels like your skin is buzzing, and when he opens the door and lets you in first, you nearly trip over yourself trying to get inside.

It’s what you expected his room to look like. Neat and minimal. No lights on except the glow from the hallway spilling in.

He closes the door behind you, slow and quiet, like he’s sealing something in.

“You always listen this well?” he asks, voice smooth and low.

You manage a shaky breath. “Only when it's you.”

He huffs a quiet laugh, but there’s nothing kind about it, you almost feel like he’s mocking you.

“Didn’t take you for the type,” he says, stepping closer. “But I guess I’ve got you figured out now, huh?”

You stare up at him, throat dry. “I don’t know what you mean.”

He tilts his head, eyes raking over you, voice dropping. “No? Then why do you look like you’re about to fall apart, and I haven’t even laid a hand on you yet?”

Then he does, his big hands softly cupping your waist, bringing you close to him. Your legs wobble. He kisses you softly, you quietly moan into the kiss already wanting more. Your hands tangle in his hair, chest touching his. His hands travel over the curve of your ass, reaching the short hem of your skirt. You gasp when his nails rake over the plush skin, bunching the skirt around your waist.

Soobin lands a firm slap to your buttcheck and the sting makes you ache even more. You gasp, basking in the sensation.

You’ve never felt this needy, this horny from a single kiss. You feel tears prick at your eyes, the ache in your core becoming too much. You try to subtly rub your legs together, trying to find a way to relieve this pressure.

And Soobin must notice, because he finally, finally reaches out exactly where you need him. His hands are grasping your ass, slowly inching together and pulling the flesh. First stretching the skin and then pushing your ass checks together. The sensation feels amazing on your cunt, the slight pressure and dirtiness of it making you whine.

You push your ass out, further pushing yourself into Soobin’s big hands.

“Good girl,” he breathes. “Just like that.”

Soobin kisses you slowly, almost indulgently, as if savoring the tension more than your lips. His hands skim over your waist, your hips, down to your thighs.

“Lay down Babygirl,” he tells you and you listen. You lay back against his pillow, skirt bunched up around your waist, and while he settles himself between your legs. You watch him, watch you when he reaches towards the pillow you’re laying your head on.

You lift your head up, allowing him to take it from you.

“Lift your hips,” he says and you oblige. Soobin puts the pillow underneath your hips and then he’s back to laying down between your hips.

“You look so pretty like this,” he tells you, voice deep and eyes dark, piercing. His hands caress your inner thighs. The light touch makes goosebumps rise on your skin and you shudder when he gently with barely any pressure brushes over your clothed lips.

"You're soaked through," he murmurs, voice low. With his middle finger he starts applying more pressure on your pussy, moving it over your clit with an unhurried pace.

“I can already tell you’re gonna taste so good, you smell so good,” he says, nuzzling his nose into your wanting sex. Your breath shudders out, “Soobin…”

“Soobine,” you whine, your hand reaches for his soft locks gently tugging, “stop being a tease,” you gasp.

He lifts himself up just enough so he can pull off your lacy panties. He sharply inhales when he takes them off, eyes fixed on your glistening pussy. You don’t notice him putting them in his front pocket.

You’re both breathing heavily and the dark and hungry look in his eyes doesn’t escape. Instead you try your best to memorize it for later.

He leans down to your inner thigh, lips grazing higher this time. Then his teeth catch the tender flesh of your inner thigh and he suckles in. Right below where you actually need him.

“Please,” you gasp, your voice cracking embarrassingly. But you’re too far gone to care.

“If I start, I’m not stopping until you’re shaking,” he says, voice heavy and lower than you’re used to hearing.

“Please, Soobin, please I don’t care—”

He hums against your skin. “God, you’re needy, aren’t you?” He kisses closer, closer. “Begging me like this… and I haven’t even touched you properly yet, I think I like like listening to you whine too much to give you what you want,” he teases, fingers exploring your pretty pussy, noting how the slightest pressure makes you hump into his fingers that are drawing circles onto your labia. He prods around your entrance and you can feel the wetness trickling down his fingers.

“Pleasepleaseplease-“ you beg, before he finally, finally tastes you. He starts off infuriatingly slow, flat tongue experimentally licking a couple of short licks.

You moan into his touch, arching your back into the pillow sitting under your ass. Soobin wraps his arms around you from underneath your thighs pressing his face onto your gushy pussy.

“You look so pretty like this, falling apart for me.”

Once used to the feeling of his flat tongue going over your clit he lightly sucks, groaning when you rub yourself against him. He pauses to kiss my thigh, adjusting it over his shoulder before his lips are back on me.

“You taste even better than I imagined,” he says and the admission flusters you, you never could of imagined your fantasies actually materializing. You moan out loud when he sucks on your clit, tongue latching onto you. His middle finger is applying pressure around your hole, not sliding it in but rubbing all around it.

You try to stop the loud noises coming out, your hand on your mouth. Soobin notices, “It’s okay, be loud. I want to hear everything.”

You bite your lip, trying to stay quiet, “what about the others-“ you start, but the thought dies on your tongue when he flattens his tongue just right and you cry out, hands flying to his hair. “S-Soobin—oh my god—”

He can tell you’re getting close, flicking his tongue over your clit whilst slightly suckling on your clit. The feeling mixed with him pushing two fingers just past your entrance, one knuckle deep is enough to bring you closer to climax.

You practically hump his mouth, pushing his fingers in and out of you just he way you like it.

You gasp out before holding your breath in, “that’s my good girl,” Soobin mumbles pushing his two fingers fully into you. He hooks them, feeling around your velvety walls when you cum. Your walls pulsating against his fingers and you can feel him moan. He licks you clean, letting you come down.

You feel like your pussy is actually buzzing and pulsating and when you look down and see Soobin looking up between your legs you feel close again.

You whine, dropping back on bed when Soobin sharply sucks on you again, fingers moving in and out of you at a fast pace.

“C’mon sweetie, I know you can give me another,” he says, experimentally sucking on your clit in short, sharp intervals. The pleasure is so intense you feel tears building up in your eyes.

Soobin notices the glassy look in your eyes, and you feel him smirk against you. “Cry all you want. I’m not stopping till your thighs are shaking.”

And he keeps to that promise, ravaging you like a starved man until you’re gasping, pleading for mercy.

““I—I don’t know, I can’t think—just don’t stop, please…” You don’t even process what you’re saying when you feel your second orgasm building.

“Fuck, don’t stop Soobie, oh my god,” you moan through tears.

Your whole body stills, the intensity of the orgasm rendering you frozen. You don’t even realize your leg locked Soobin into you and he doesn’t seem to mind either. Patiently waiting for you to come down.

The room is quiet except for your breathing. Harsh, ragged, uneven. You’re still shaking slightly when he finally pulls away, resting his forehead lightly against your thigh before sitting back.

He doesn’t speak for a long moment. You keep staring at the ceiling, blinking away the tears still clinging to your lashes.

Then, quietly, “You okay?”

You nod, swallowing hard. “I think so.”

He brushes your calf with the back of his hand, gentle. “You were perfect.” You don’t say anything.

Soobin stands and disappears for a second. He comes back with a warm towel and helps clean you up, careful and wordless, as if to fill the silence with kindness instead of apologies.

Once he’s done, he lays beside you, careful not to touch you. He’s just… there, it’s starting to get awkward, so you force yourself to speak.

“I didn’t plan for this to happen,” you say, your voice nearly gone.

“I know.”

“But I wanted it.”

“I know,” he repeats, softer now. “Me too.”

You finally glance over. His eyes are on the ceiling, jaw tight like he’s holding back more than he’s saying. “I’m not gonna pretend this doesn’t make things messy,” you whisper.

He turns to face you now, leaning on one arm. “Messy’s better than pretending I don’t want you.”

You bite your lip, look away. “She’s going to hate me.”

“I don’t care.”

“That’s not fair.”

“It’s not. But you’re worth it.”

Your breath catches. You want to believe him. But guilt creeps up your throat like bile, “I feel like a bad person,” you admit.

Soobin shifts closer now, just enough for his hand to brush yours. “You’re not. You’re not bad. You’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever touched, ever tasted.”

You shut your eyes. “You can’t say things like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’ll believe them.”

He’s silent for a beat. Then quietly, honestly he says, “then believe them. Because they’re true.”

You exhale shakily, caught between wanting to stay and knowing you probably shouldn’t.

“I should go,” you whisper.

Soobin doesn’t try to stop you. But when you sit up, he gently pulls your hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss into your wrist.

“I’ll still think about this,” he murmurs. “About you.”

And as you slip quietly out of his room heart racing, stomach twisted, you already know you’ll be thinking about him too.

#txt smut #kpop smut #txt scenario #soobin x you #soobin scenarios #soobin #soobin imagines #soobin smut #txt hard hours #soobin hard thoughts

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catfern · 1 year ago

Text

lap dog.

in support of palestine ∙ the reality of tlou ∙ resources

pairing: ellie williams x afab!reader x abby anderson

music: master of none - beach house

word count: 2k

summary: abby and ellie are best friends, never more. when you come into the picture, competition bleeds into something else entirely.

warnings: porn, ellabs, sub-ish!abby, sub-top!ellie, dom-ish!reader, marijuana use, got high and watched challengers this is what happened

fern says ⎯ this one goes out to @heavenbloom & @atyourmerci the only two pookies keeping me going at this point! rawr!

it was innocent, at first. you suppose.

a pit sinking in your stomach at the all-too-looming feeling of a foreign school, the kind smile offered was an olive branch. white teeth, skin blemished only with the soft indents of a splattering of freckles and moles, it put you at ease. this definitively friendly tour guide.

“hey, m’abby.” the squeeze of her hand was gentle, but firm. practiced. her eyes on you felt like a studied gaze, a flicker over your body that made your ears burn, your name on her tongue a syrupy temptation. “i’m s’posed to show you around, so…”

you clung to abby, in your first few weeks. you would’ve felt bad, this dependence on your only friend growing, if she hadn’t returned the sentiment almost tenfold.

hey

want coffee before class?

- abby

the blaring screen of your phone dunking on you like ice water, bleary eyes and a dopey smile typing a response in the early morning manufactured darkness of your dorm room.

she’d show, fifteen minutes later, in all the gloried aftermath of her morning run, shoving the iced latte at you with easy conversation. she’d wait on your bed while you dressed, poorly pretending to be wildly interested in her instagram explore page.

ellie happened later.

“she hot?”

“i don’t wanna answer that.”

the ball hits the roof, before bouncing with a mean thwack into the tangle of abby’s hair. ellie pulls herself up on the bed, teetering on her tired forearms with a servile smile. “come on,” the rasp in her voice gives her a malignant edge, “objectively, is she hot?”

abby looks at her, swallowed in her gaze even from across the room. she rolls her eyes before returning to roughly running a brush through her hair, “she’s nice.”

“fucking prude!” the palm of ellie’s hand comes down like a rough punishment, a sting on the sculpt of abby’s shoulder that rings a small wince. her laugh is complimentary, “what? she a secret or something?”

abby shakes her roommate’s sliding hands off her, fighting her languid, teasing embrace, “no, no, she’s just- i dunno.”

a light hum fills the quick silence in the air, ellie pulls away.

“i wanna meet her.”

“what? ellie —“ abby whips around quick, something akin to a firm, stubborn fear tracing her face, “no. no.”

you shift on the floor, the scratchy carpet under your ass stinging with a strange itch. the joint is hanging weakly between ellie’s lips as she holds the lighter to it, off-handed smoke swirling and ebbing in the close air of the room. abby is sequestered on her bed, trying her hardest not collapse in on herself.

you’re taking the joint from ellie, ellie. her iced gaze flickers between the both of you, something unrecognisable sitting, gnawing at her very soul.

“so,” smoke spills from your mouth, dripping from your lips like it never wanted to leave you. you hold the blunt, firm between two fingers as you trace your thoughts with your hand, “what is this?”

ellie laughs faintly, her eyes meeting the terror of abby’s briefly, before falling over the way you’re sat, cross legged, the thin fabric of pyjama shorts riding up your thigh. her laugh is dopey, saccharine laced with a bite, “what d’ya mean?”

you’re pinned, like a dead butterfly behind glass, inspected. abby leans forward, a pique of interest crawling up her spine, her elbows digging nasty red welts into her knees. they both, as if practiced, stare, like careful animals on the other side of a zoo exhibit fence. they know they cannot touch you, but they deign still to think they can try.

you laugh, something elevated, untouchable, bringing the joint back to your mouth, “you two — you seem, close.”

a shared look of panic and something deeper sets between them, ellie stretching her legs to knock yours as she plucks the joint from you, shooting abby a teasing glance. she pats the battered carpet next to her, “come on abs.”

the nickname is a taunt, an echo of some wild, buried intimacy that ellie wanted — needed you to know. she’s answering your question, in a way.

abby slides off the bed, scooting over at her roommate’s beck and call. she takes the blunt tenderly, leaning back and letting ellie hold the lighter to her, the movement eased, familiar. she shakes her head, “we’re friends.”

you smile, lopsided, a low-flying buzz hanging in the air. your body loose, uncaring, as you canvas the look ellie has on her face. pensive.

“right.”

“what?”

“nothing, i just - i don’t believe you.”

“it’s true!” the laugh shared between them is something too close for comfort to be true, but abby persists, “we grew up together, we play tennis together, we’re friends.”

“well…” the soft abrade of ellie’s voice was a testament, a challenge. for you, it was a tantalising peak behind a curtain so well guarded, a piece of themselves so rarely shared. for abby, it was an unnecessary torment. she looks at ellie, she sees the competition in her eyes. abby knows the sting of shared desire, of the punishing hand of her best friend. the brunette pouts, studying her roommate’s look of resigned pleading, “come on! i think it’s a — it’s a cute story. abby had a little, teensy crush on me when we were kids.”

“oh fuck off!” the edge in the swell of abby’s voice demanded attention, commanded respect in the abhorrent violence of something unexpected. the closeness of the two sat thick, heady in the face of the thin layer of smoke in the air. ellie’s hand slips from her thigh.

a silence befalls the three of you, foreign and raw in the space of casualty. the air of times past is not lost on you, as you watch the humiliation creep through abby’s skin in red flushes. ellie’s advantage.

“i think it’s cute,” you muse with a misaligned shrug.

— a beat.

“really?” that changes everything, in a pathetic sort of way. abby has the eyes of a puppy, a tortured lap dog as she looks at you, wide and wild, tamed on your word. a certain honey of victory sits in her stomach.

“yeah, i mean -“ you laugh, such an ardent reminder of their own pursuits of you, fresh and recognisable. of who stands on their feet, and who kneels before them. “i just don’t intend to be a homewrecker.”

“we’re not together.” they choir together in rehearsed concordance, in defence of themselves. strange, how their voices melt together in a harmony so well matched.

you hum, as if to challenge them quietly, before standing. the stretch of your legs provides a curious path, their gazes dripping upwards of you like forlorn magnets, drawn to your body. you look down on them with a quirk of your brow, pulling your pj shorts to rest higher on your hips, before perching yourself on the edge of ellie’s bed.

they look at you as if they had just lost you, something childishly snoopy glinting, matched, in their eyes. your hands run along the scratch of ellie’s bedsheets, exploring, before you pat either side of you, gently.

in a scramble, they pull themselves to your side, infringing on your summoning. ellie pressed to your left, abby to your right, inescapable, the both of them.

you meet abby’s gaze, swallowed nearly in the startling kindness of the blue of her iris. she looks so meagre, so shrunken and teetering on the edge of your existence, a planet in orbit of a raging star.

gently, with the softness you label so deserving of her, your hands wander, pulling her in, letting the chasteness of her lips fall away into a fevered triumph, the taste of the salt of her lips and the bitterness of the weed a chaser to her touch.

ellie, sat so humbly, waits in a quiet, angry defeat, her fingers ghosting the edge of your bare thigh. oh, to be the only child, so unused to sharing. impatient and derivative, she almost whines, a soft call for your attention. you answer, to the surprise of both, abby’s taste still on your lips, something so familiar.

she’s more callous than the girl she so aptly loves and despises, her movements quick and domineering as she seeks to own you. abby, tasting you and wanton for nothing, slips down to the stretch of your neck, pressing her kindness into your skin with the pliant pull of her teeth.

ellie’s hands are needy creatures, pulling over you like the ebb and flow of a vicious tide, snaking up your shirt for just a taste.

“..fuck.” your heavy breath fills the room like smoke, a complying pass for her to tease the stretch of her fingers under the waistband of your shorts. control was just a fleeting delusion, your hand grabbing at the bone of her wrist, “come on, let her go first.”

ellie, once again left waiting; abby, so all consumed with the pulse of your neck, is despondent, desperate, her breath shaky in your ear as her hand slips beneath the fabric, a soft groan dripping from her lips at the velvet of your walls enveloping her.

she’s slow, languid and unpracticed with her indigent circles around your clit. a sweet intoxication hanging heavy in the air, you laugh, coy and soft and somewhat mean. you had thought abby bigger, more unobtainable than she really was.

here, she is human. here, she bares her unspoken inexperience.

you pull a desperate, evil ellie from the swirl of your tit, so keen to pull your attention away. your thumb mindlessly swipes along the hang of her bottom lip, her breath warm and savouring in your sunlight.

“y’know what to do?” ellie nods into the palm of your hand, eager to show off, to please. “teach her.”

leaning up on the back of your elbows, you watch through a half-lidded honeyed gaze as ellie slinks down, conflicted. a certain affection in her touch, deeper than that of anything else, she finds abby’s fingers in the heat of your legs, leading them along the strings of your impulse.

a shaky moan leaves abby’s lips, the callous of ellie’s fingers along her own a dream unfounded. she can feel the press of her chest against her back, her breath in her ear, her chin on her shoulder. this was not unlike of them, not a foreign feeling, but new, still. the need in ellie’s throat is rotted, estranged to her touch.

they assess you on the bed, like an experiment. the arch of your back is artwork along the ripple of the sheets.

“go slow, you see that?” ellie’s voice is low in abby’s ear, tracing the breathy moans you drip beneath them. “just like that — good, abs. good girl.”

ellie’s hand slips from abby’s, running your slick along her arm, your thigh, a trail up your stomach as she comes to palm your tits, her mouth finding your neck, biting down on your wicked pulse in such difference to the other.

abby is lost, chasing feelings that no longer belong to her. she watches you writhe under her touch, under ellie’s touch. something wanting sits in her throat, unknown to her.

ellie is her best friend. but this — mean competition abandoned, this is something else. something buried, aged, ready to rear its head.

the blonde brings her lips to the dip of your stomach, pressing a soft trail up the curve of your hips. unsure of what she wants, what she’s looking for on the crest of your body, she presses the crook of her nose into your naval, her fingers burning, picking up their speed.

ellie comes to her, drawn to her like to her a flame. pressing a kiss to the curve of your breast, she finds the cotton of her friend’s lips so easily, as if fated. messily, they meet along the plume of your ribcage, you, an instrument for their own aches. esoteric, their tongues swirl on your skin, on their lips, tracing each other as if they had never known the other at all.

like dogs tugging at meat with the bare of their teeth.

homewrecker, indeed.

⎯ kofi

taglist; @whore4abby @endureher @beemillss @afraidofheightss @sentimentalyellow

#ellie williams x reader #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x female reader #ellie x reader #abby anderson smut #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x abby anderson #ellabs x reader #ellie williams #abby anderson #ellie x fem reader #abby x fem!reader #abby x reader

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rottingghosty · 17 days ago

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The Hunt of Joker II | DC X DP

part two baby !!!!

“rot where have you been” i work 40 hours a week and do have adult things to do… plus there’s been music events so work’s been busy! :’)

update on The Matriarch AU fic, will be a multi chapter fic and I’m currently reading over and editing ch. 1 because making a full fic means i have to be aware of my errors (some will slip past me like always, I’m 1 person with no beta read and english isnt my first language)

enjoy!!!

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Jason strolled through Crime Alley, the static was heavy in the air as the shades chittered away in his ears as his passed by areas that were heavy with them. The Alley residents moving quickly, tugging their coats closer to them as if to protect themselves from something. It made Jason lick his teeth as he rolled his shoulders to get a kink out of it. The shadows seemed more sinister in ways that Jason hadn’t considered, especially after having to explain to his family about why everything seemed off kilter to them.

He supposed it was pretty fucking odd to spring it on them, but Jason couldn't exactly help it. All of them had close brushes to death but few experience death like he had. Few had been dead for so long only to start digging out of their own grave to breathe. To exist once more after being in the void of nothing. Jason can't remember anything from when he was dead but he fucking picked up some things from being dead.

It wasn't obvious at first, not when he rarely fucking remembers what it was like during the time he was alive again prior to being dumped in the Lazarus Pit. Even then, he didn't remember much until a few months after the dunk. It'd been more obivous after the All Caste was bestowed on him and now he'd gotten so used to the other side of life that he hadn't considered how odd it'd be.

He lives and breathes with the side of death, how even when the rare moments of something bring out Solomon Grundy from the sewers or whatever crevices the big guy resides in the moment— there was a sense of kinship that wasn’t there before. How even Grundy seems to feel like something was going on, enough for the man to stumble into Jason during one of his patrols earlier. The zombie giving an aggravated grunt like he could even hear the trills of the shades down in the sewers.

Of course those little bastards quieted down when the two zombies stood side by side, Jason taking off his helmet on the rare chance to light a cigarette even if Grundy huffed. A crooked grin forming on Jason’s lips as his domino covered eyes turned to Grundy.

“Wonderin’ why they all chattin’ away?” Jason had drawled out in the moment, feeling Grundy push him roughly. It was enough force to make him stumble but he held his hands up in a gesture of goodwill. He knew he shouldn’t push on the zombie’s already limited hold on his anger. Not when Grundy was already looking around, sniffing the air like it could give him clues.

“There’s been a hunt called,” Jason began as he patted his jacket for a lighter, flicking it out and open. The flame dancing wildly as he brought it up to his mouth, watching as the cigarette caught the spark. He briefly wondered if one day whoever got managed to get a hit on Joker, would make sure he got a death befitting for him like he gave to Jason.

“Hunt?” Grundy asked, voice low and deep with a rumble that Jason felt to his very being. He ignored the way the pit or whatever the fuck was in him since his dip in the Lazarus Pit tried to give a rumble in reply.

“Something’s pissed off and called a hunt. It’s why the other side is all giddy. They’re off their metaphorical leash.” Jason mumbled around his cigarette, inhaling as he tilted his head up to stare at Gotham’s smog covered stars when in return all he just sees is darkness. Good ol’ Gotham.

“Annoying.”

“Yeah, they can be pretty annoying with their talks. I’ll see if they can pass the word for the shades near you to keep quiet. Wouldn’t want you to rampage while the hunt is going.”

Grundy grunts in reply before he turns away to head back to his haunt in the sewers, the haunting tune that Grundy says settling heavy on Jason’s shoulders.

“Solomon Grundy born on a Monday…”

It’d been days when everything seemed to burst, Jason was at the Manor— these days he made rounds of visiting mostly because the tension settled between his shoulders have made him more snappier than he’d like. The heightened pressure of Gotham’s hauntings were baring down on him and it often caused him to be rougher with whatever was going on.

He’d had to take a break from patrolling the alley mostly because of the fact he almost broke a mugger’s arm. He’d only backed off when Dick had swung by to intercept and even then that required rough handling because Jason needed to fight something. His instincts were screaming at him and it made him twitchier.

He heavily decided he fucking hated the feeling of a hunt happening, even worse when not even one person wanted to let it slip on who the hunt was called on. Then the Joker started popping his head out of whatever hidey hole he fucking was in and it felt like he was in a shark infested water with the way everything caused his hair to stand on its ends at the sudden sharpness of attention.

It made the teeth in his jaw itch, the way he instinctively bite down on things with more force than needed. He’s ran his tongue over his teeth enough times to feel the difference now, the way his canines are sharper. The way he’s had to hide his mouth in ways just so the others don’t witness the fact that Jason’s canines aren’t blunt and human like anymore. They felt like fangs.

Everyone was in the living room, doing their own thing as Jason tried to focus so hard on reading the Hunger Games. It’s something that Steph had recommended and he was slowly working through the series when the sudden itching was gone. He instinctively sat up, his eyes darting around.

He could see everyone else snap their attention to him, all aware of the fact that the faint buzz they had been hearing was silent. A creak was heard from Alfred shifting from where he stood.

Jason ran his tongue over his teeth again, feeling it cut into the muscle easily as he tasted the blood. Grounding himself with the pain.

Silence. Anticipation.

A soft whisper, a burst of cold air.

Then—

A thud. A hand reached out to Jason before everything vanished in a haze of green.

#dc x dp #dc comics #dc universe #dc x dp au #dc x dp crossover #dcu #dcxdp #dpxdc #jason todd #danny phantom #batfam #batfamily #joker hunt au #red hood #dc x dp prompt #danny fenton

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rarepairdumpster · 3 months ago

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Casino AU Part 1

Pairing: Viktor/Silco (Arcane) Rating: M C/W: Mob Boss Silco, Viktor in a Dress, Teasing, Who will survive between two incorrigible flirts

Silco running a casino for the mob and Viktor being his pretty young husband that he met when he caught him counting cards.

Silco is completely smitten and marries him after only a couple months. He knows Viktor has his own agenda but trusts him implicitly. Viktor running most of the political bribery because he knows exactly what to say.

As long as Silco can make Viktor comfortable, he knows he doesn't have to worry.

That first night when Silco catches him though. Leaning over Viktor's shoulder, all confident and sexy, and Viktor thinks its gonna be a night of flirtation.

But Silco purrs in his ear instead, "You know, boy, card counting is against the rules."

Viktor's a little impressed that someone caught him and he still smiles like it was a compliment.

"Is it?" He asks, tilting his face a little towards Silco. "I'm afraid I wouldn't know anything about that."

Silco tuts.

"Telling lies to the man who runs this place is a poor choice." His voice sharpens, gets louder. "Guards!"

Viktor turns fully towards Silco, letting his foot trail along Silco's leg. He reaches up and rubs the lapel of Silco's brocade vest between his thumb and forefinger, looking up at him sweetly.

"I don't think we need to get them involved, do we?"

"I suppose alternative methods could be considered." Silco arches his brow, straightens, and steps back from those flirtatious hands. "Get up. Now."

Viktor smirks and goes to reach for his winnings, but Sevika has already sidled up next to him. She puts her hand down on the chips and shakes her head when Viktor follows the very muscular arm up to see who belonged to it.

He instead reaches for his cane and lightly hops off the stool towards Silco.

Silco leads him to the back office, and holds the door open so Viktor can step in ahead of him.

Sevika guards the door once Silco steps in and closes it.

Silco motions towards the empty chair in front of the desk and Viktor walks over and sits, crossing his legs and letting the slit of his blue satin dress open up over his knees.

Silco walks up close to Viktor and leans up against the front of his desk, reaching behind and grabbing a cigar.

"Now then," he chops the end of the cigar and sticks it in the corner of his mouth, "I'm afraid I can't have you manipulating my tables like that." Silco flicks his lighter then takes a puff.

He then offers a light to Viktor, who has taken a cigarette out. Viktor looks up at Silco as he leans forward and accepts the flame at the end of his cigarette. "I'm happy to manipulate other things."

Silco smirks, but his gaze hardens.

"That line won't work on me, boy."

He leans back and takes another slow puff.

"You have two choices. One: I can have you blacklisted from every casino from here to Timbuktu. Two: you take a position here."

Viktor raises an eyebrow, then takes a drag of his cigarette and breathes it out slowly. "A position?" He leans forward a little. "And I'm sure you don't mean the kind I'm usually offered."

"Deal cards for the House."

Viktor chuckles and leans back in the chair. "I'm afraid those uniforms aren't my style."

Silco smirked. "A plant, then. Watch the tables for me, play a little, flirt with guests if you like," he noticed he had Viktor's attention again. "You'll learn signals that will alert security to counters and others that may be trying to cheat the house."

When Viktor leans back, the hem of his dress slides that bit higher, and Silco gets the faintest tease of shadowy, bare skin between Viktor's thighs.

Silco absolutely looks, considers it briefly, and then pushes it from his mind.

He was here to work, not fuck.

"And would you be watching me?" Viktor asks, taking a drag of his cigarette.

Viktor's eyes are absolutely full of mischief, the little tart

"Some nights," Silco admits, and sees the corner of Viktor's mouth twitch up. "I do have other business to attend to."

"And what will you pay me?" Viktor raises an eyebrow. "I'll have to make it worth my while."

"All of our staff are well compensated." Silco taps the ashes from his cigar into his ashtray, and takes another puff. He let's out a ring of smoke before adding silkily, "There might be a bonus from time to time."

Viktor pretended to think about it, but if he was honest, he didn't have anywhere else to go. The other casinos he had been caught at only gave him a local ban, with a little coercion. It was clear Silco wouldn't be so easily swayed and he could be banned from every casino in the city.

"Fine then," Viktor shrugged. "When do I start?"

"Tomorrow night."

"I suppose that means I'm free tonight," Viktor smirked, a glint in his eye as he took another drag.

"But not free to roam the casino," Silco answers, a smirk of his own pulling at his lips.

Viktor stands up, leaning on his cane a little closer to Silco. "I don't mind changing my plans a little," Viktor leans closer next to Silco's ear. "I have a feeling our meeting was more fortuitous than any chips out there."

Silco turns his head slightly, breathes in the sweet and floral perfume, and eyes the curve of his jaw. Imagines biting it. Feels his cock stir at the thought.

Viktor leaves a soft, lingering kiss on Silco's cheek, then steps away towards the door. He raps on it, then turns to Silco with a smile.

"We are done, yes?"

"Yes," Silco confirms, though his voice is slightly huskier than before.

Sevika opens the door and Viktor nods. "See you here tomorrow, Mr. Silco," Viktor winks before he steps though the door.

Silco sighs.

Sevika rolls her eyes -- because of course Silco was going to bend the little tart over his desk at some point.

Part 2

Arch + Woods

#vilco #silco arcane #viktor arcane #viktor #silco #fanfic #rarepairdumpster #Casino AU #mobster silco

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lesbehonestsstuff · 7 months ago

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Catholic guilt - part 4

Casey Novak has always been the good catholic girl. Always perfect, always trying to meet high expectations. But she doesn't understand why she feels no interested in the boys who flirted with her, why her eyes instead linger on other girls.

Word count: 3463

Chapter 4/?

Shoutout to @ihaveathingforwomen for helping me figure out this chapter <3

It was mid afternoon as Casey and Alex strolled down the familiar streets, the air warm with the start of summer. Casey’s curiosity had been building ever since Alex had shown up that morning with the promise of a surprise date.

Casey tugged at Alex’s sleeve, her curiosity mounting as they walked down the street, Alex had been tight-lipped all afternoon, a playful smirk on her lips as she led them toward their date destination.

"Will you tell me where we are going already?" Casey asked, trying to pull more information out of her girlfriend.

Alex chuckled, her hand squeezing Casey’s briefly before she slipped it back into her pocket, glancing around. "It’s a surprise, Case. Don’t you like surprises?"

Even though they’d been together for months, the secrecy surrounding their relationship was still a weight on their chest. But being together made that weight feel lighter, like they could breathe.

Casey huffed, though she couldn’t help but smile. "I mean, I do, but you’re being awfully suspicious."

"Am I?" Alex teased back,she leaned in closer her voice dipping low in that way that always made Casey’s stomach flip."Don’t worry. You’re going to love it."

A few more steps, and suddenly, Casey caught the sounds of distant carnival music, the excited shouts of people, and the sweet smell of sugar drifting through the air. The local fair came into view, its bright lights and spinning rides now in full view.

Casey’s eyes widened as she turned to Alex, a smile tugging at her lips. "The fair?!”

Alex shrugged with a grin. "Well, I figured we deserved some fun."

Casey’s heart fluttered at the thoughtfulness of it. "That sounds perfect… but isn’t it a bit too public?"

Alex gave her a reassuring glance, lowering her voice, her hand ghosting near Casey’s. "There are going to be so many people and crowds, no one will be paying attention to us. Where did you tell your mom you were going today?"

"I told her I had softball practice until late," Casey said, a bit of nervous laughter in her voice.

"Perfect," Alex said with a smile. "Then relax. Let’s play some rigged games."

They wandered deeper into the fair, the bright colors and noise a perfect backdrop for their hidden glances and quiet touches. It was exhilarating, but nerve-wracking all the same. Each time they passed a group of people, Casey would feel her stomach twist in knots, but Alex kept her close. Just a brush of their hands here a shared smile there, she trusted Alex. In this crowd, no one would notice two girls stealing moments of affection.

When they passed a booth filled with stuffed animals hanging overhead, Alex paused, looking at the game where you had to knock down three rows of bottles with a ball. She paid the booth operator and picked up one of the balls, a determined look on her face.

"I’ve got this," she said confidently.

Casey raised an eyebrow, trying to hold back a laugh. "You’ve got this? Lexie, you’re good at a lot of things but you suck at sports."

"Well I’m good at geometry so that’s got to count for something," Alex replied with a smirk.

Casey snorted, stepping up to the booth alongside her. "Geometry and hand-eye coordination are two very different things."

Alex shot her a playfull glare “Well not all of us can be softball players with great aim and strong hot arms” she threw the ball, and it flew wide, missing the bottles. She frowned, biting her lip. Casey, still grinning, stepped forward, taking another ball into her hand.

"Here," Casey said softly, stepping behind Alex. "Let me show you how." She stood behind Alex, guiding her hands to hold the ball correctly. Alex froze for a moment surprised by Casey’s touch, a blush creeping up her neck, but she didn’t move away. Casey’s body pressed against hers, and for a second, all Alex could focus on was the warmth of her girlfriend’s touch.

"Just follow my hand," Casey whispered, her lips brushing against Alex’s ear. With that, Casey guided Alex’s arm back and then forward, the ball hitting the center bottle and knocking it down.

Alex turned her head slightly, catching Casey’s eyes. "I did it."

Casey smiled, her face just inches from Alex’s. "You did"

They lingered in that closeness for a second longer than necessary before Casey reluctantly pulled away, her hand brushing against Alex’s as she stepped aside. Alex picked out a small stuffed bear from the prize rack, holding it out to Casey, a soft smile on her lips.

"For you," she said.

Casey took the bear, blushing at the gesture. "I thought you won it."

"Let’s call it a team effort," Alex replied with a grin, her eyes full of love.

They wandered off, the smell of fried food wafting through the air which made Casey’s stomach let out a low growl, making Alex laugh. After months of dating she had discovered that her girlfriend was pretty much a bottomless pit, she trained so much that her body was almost always demanding food so she had made it a habit of carrying snacks for her.

She gave Casey a wide smile looking over the food stands "Guess that’s our next stop," she said, gesturing for Casey to pick. The smell of fried dough and sugar filled the air, and Casey’s eyes lit up.

"I could definitely go for a funnel cake," Casey said, glancing around the fair’s food stalls.

Alex nodded, and they got in line, eventually grabbing a paper plate piled high with a warm, crispy funnel cake. They found a quiet bench a little ways off from the main bustle of the fair and sat down.

Casey took the first bite her eyes lightening up the moment the powdered sugar and fried dough where in her mouth. She tore off a piece and held it out to Alex, smiling when Alex raised an eyebrow at her. "You’ve got to try this!"

Alex leaned forward, taking the piece from Casey’s fingers. Her lips brushed lightly against Casey’s fingertips, sending a shiver through her. They smiled at each other, the sweetness of the moment brief as they pulled away quickly.

"You’re right," Alex said, licking a bit of sugar from her lips. "This was a good choice."

They ate in comfortable silence for a few moments, stealing glances and smiles between bites. Every so often, their knees would bump, or Alex would brush her foot lightly against Casey’s leg, sending sparks between them.

Casey, licking powdered sugar from her lips, glanced at Alex. "I never would’ve imagined you liking these sorts of things."

"Why not?" Alex replied, taking another bite, looking at the people passing by laughing and enjoying the chaos of the fair . "They’re fun. Ridiculous, but fun."

“I don’t know, you’re from the city, you don’t strike me as the country fair type” she snickered shoving the last piece Alex left her into her mouth.

Alex grabbed her hand under the table and gave it a light squeeze “Well I can’t said my parents ever took me to one but I do enjoy it, especially if I’m with you and get to watch how happy you are” she smiled and watched the way Caseys eyes seemed to sparkle with the string of lights above them. She loved Casey’s eyes, her smile, her dimples. She would do whatever it took to make her smile, to make her happy.

Alex squeezed her hand again. "Maybe it’s not the fair I’m enjoying. Maybe it’s just being here with you."

A tint of red covered Casey’s cheeks and Alex was sure she would never get tired of seeing her blush. “Well I am happy, this is a great date” She had the urge to lean in and kiss her but stoped herself before she could.

With the plate was empty, Alex stood and tossed it into a nearby trash bin.

"Come on," she said, offering Casey her hand. "There’s something else we need to do."

Casey hesitated for a second, glancing around at the crowded fairgrounds. "Isn’t this a bit risky?"

"There’s going to be so many people, no one’s looking at us. I promise. Plus holding your hand for a second won’t kill us" Alex gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "Besides, I’ve got something planned."

She dragged Casey through the crowd, looking back to see her laughing at Alex’s rush and it sent a feeling of warmth inside her. The fair’s ferris wheel towered in the distance, its brightly colored lights twinkling against the darkening sky. Alex pulled them toward it, and before long, they were sitting side by side in one of the little cabins, slowly lifting into the sky.

As the wheel turned, taking them higher and higher, the noise of the fair faded, leaving only the sounds of the night and the creak of the ride. The cool evening breeze played with their hair as the sun began to descend in the sky.

Alex took Casey’s han in hers giving it a tight squeeze, resting their laced fingers between them. The touch sent a familiar spark through Casey, and she leaned her head against Alex’s shoulder, their bodies pressed close together in the small cabin.

"This is nice," Casey murmured, her voice soft and content.

Alex nodded, her thumb gently tracing circles on Casey’s hand. "Yeah. It is."

For a moment, the world outside didn’t exist. Up here, it was just them, no crowds, no fear of being seen, just the two of them and the quiet, shared closeness that came so naturally now.

As the ferris wheel made its slow descent, Casey sighed, pulling away just slightly. "I wish we could stay up there forever."

"Me too,"Alex whispered, her breath warm against Casey’s ear.

Once they were back on the ground, they wandered through the fair’s more secluded areas, where the crowd began to thin out. They eventually found a small, tucked-away spot behind a food stand, hidden from view but still below the glow of the fair’s lights.

Alex glanced around, then turned to Casey, her voice barely above a whisper. "I know it’s hard," she said, stepping closer. "But I won't let anything happen to you."

Casey’s chest tightened, but in a good way. She felt safe, cherished. "I’m okay," she whispered back, "as long as I’m with you, I’m okay."

For a moment, everything else faded. The world around them disappeared. Without thinking, Alex leaned in, her lips brushing against Casey’s in a soft kiss. It was gentle and sweet, but filled with the intensity that all their kisses carried.

They pulled away, the sound of the fair slowly returning to their ears. Casey’s heart pounded in her chest, her cheeks flushed like they always did, but the smile on her face matched Alex’s.

"You know," Alex whispered, "I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of sneaking kisses with you." She gave her another peck, their foreheads resting together.

Casey grinned, her hands still intertwined with Alex’s. "Me neither."

They stayed there for a while longer, stealing a few more kisses before returning to the lights and noise of the fair, their love burning just as brightly as the lights overhead.

After a few more games and more food they headed back to Alexs house, where they could spend some more time together before Caseys mom started to wonder where she was. They took advantage of the empty streets to walk close together, their hands brushing with every step. Casey smiled and quickly gave Alex a peck on her cheek. “Thank you, it was a wonderful date”

Alex smiled brightly and nudged her lightly “Im glad you enjoyed it, I had a great time with you.”

Things like that made Casey fall even harder for Alex, she never had anyone who cared for her that much, who seemed to know everything about her. She smiled, her hear bursting “You know me so well” she whispered her fingers brushing Alex’s skin. “I love that about you. I love… you”

Alex’s breath hitched and she stopped in her track at Casey’s confession, her eyes widening for a brief second before softening “I love you too, Casey” she whispered back, her voice brimming with emotion. She reached her arms around her, hugging Casey close. The hug surprising both of them. As much as Alex wanted to kiss her right there they where still on the street so she just held her close trying to convey all of her feelings into the hug.

They rushed to Alex’s after they pulled apart, tears in their eyes, well aware that they would only have an hour before Casey had to go. As soon as they were through the door Alex wrapped her arm around Caseys waist, her lips pressing against Casey’s in a deep kiss.

They kissed slowly, savoring the moment. When they finally pulled away, Alex rested her forehead against Casey’s, trying to catch her breath.

“I’m so happy,” Casey murmured, her fingers still laced with Alex’s. “I never thought I’d have this—someone who understands me, who makes me feel safe. I don’t ever want to lose this.”

“You won’t,” Alex promised, her hand moving to gently stroke Casey’s hair. “I’ll protect this, I’ll protect us, no matter what.”

They cuddled on the couch after, spending the rest of the night making out until reality creepy back in and it was time for Casey to go. She glanced at the clock, biting her lip. “I should probably get going soon. My mom’s going to start wondering where I am.”

Alex frowned but nodded “I know. But I hate when you have to leave.”

“Me too,” Casey said softly. “But we’ll see each other tomorrow, right? My mom has a dinner party so I can come over.”

Alex smiled, stepping closer to her. “Of course. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

They shared one last lingering kiss by the door, Casey’s fingers brushing against Alex’s wrist as she pulled away. She loved Alex, and Alex loved her. She kept repeating that as she walked home wishing tomorrow would come faster.

By the next day Casey had snuck back to Alex’s as soon as she could, the warm afternoon sun filtered through the large windows of Alex’s spacious bedroom, casting golden light over the soft white bedspread. Casey lay on her back, her hand playing with Alex’s fingers as they lay close, their legs tangled together.

“I can’t believe your parents are never around,” Casey whispered, her voice soft, filled with awe at the contrast between Alex’s home and her own where her mothers presence was suffocating. “It’s like…our own little world.”

Alex smiled, her thumb brushing lightly across the back of Casey’s hand. “It’s one of the perks, I guess. We can just be…us here. No one watching.”

Casey looked over, a soft blush coloring her cheeks. “I like being us,” she murmured. The date at the fair had been fun but here, in the quiet of Alex’s home, it was easy to forget the dangers of being found out. It was just them.

Alex shifted a little closer holding herself over Casey, the space between them closing as she tucked a strand of Casey’s hair behind her ear. Her gaze was soft, filled with affection. “I like it too,” Alex said. “And I want to make sure you’re comfortable, always.”

“I am,” Casey said, her voice barely audible. Their faces now only inches apart.

Alex’s heart skipped a beat at the admission. She knew what was at stake for Casey, and that would always drive her to be careful. “I love being with you, I love you so much.”

Casey’s expression softened even more, the weight of Alex’s words sinking in. It was that gentle love, the understanding, that patience, that made her fall deeper in love with Alex every day. She lifted her head up a bit until her lips met Alex’s, they kissed for a moment until Alex lowered herself back to lie next to Casey.

As the evening light began to fade, they found themselves lying even closer, Alex’s arm draped lazily around Casey’s waist as they snuggled into the bed, talking about nothing and everything. Casey’s head rested on Alex’s shoulder, and she closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of the girl she loved. “I wish the world didn’t hate us,” she admitted, her voice barely a whisper now.

“I know,” Alex whispered back, pressing a soft kiss to Casey’s forehead. “But I’ll keep you safe, I promise.”

For a while, they just stayed like that, quiet comforted by the others presence until Casey got the courage to ask one of the questions about Alex that had been buggin her mind for weeks

"Alex," Casey whispered after a while, breaking the quiet. "Why did you leave New York? You never really told me."

Alex tensed for a moment before exhaling softly, her fingers tracing idle patterns on Casey’s stomach. "I got caught," she said, her voice quieter now. "With a girl."

Casey blinked, processing the words, her heart breaking for Alex. "Caught? What do you mean?"

Alex shifted to face her more directly. "My parents found out. They walked in on us, and it wasn’t pretty. Instead of dealing with it—the whispers, the judgment—they sent me away. I think they thought a Catholic school, would be a good fix. To get me away from... that part of me." She sighed, looking sadder than Casey had ever seen her.

Casey’s chest tightened as she listened. Suddenly, Alex’s distance when talking about her parents made sense. She reached up and cupped Alex’s cheek, turning her head to meet her gaze. "I’m so sorry, Alex," she whispered.

Alex leaned into the touch, her eyes closing for a brief moment. "It’s fine," she murmured. "I have you now. That’s what matters."

They kissed again, this time with more tenderness, a sweet kiss that left them dreamy and sleepy. Soon enough, the day caught up to them. Without realizing it, the room turned into a warm cocoon of drowsiness. Alex’s hand found its way to Casey’s waist, and Casey nestled into her neck, both of them lulled by the calm around them. Their eyes fluttered shut, and before either could stop it, sleep claimed them, their limbs tangled beneath the blanket.

The next morning, the harsh light of the early sun cut through the curtains, interrupting the peacefulness of the previous night. Casey’s eyes blinked open slowly, her mind still foggy with sleep. For a second, she smiled, seeing Alex fast asleep next to her, hair messy from sleep, the warmth of Alex’s body beside her, the quiet safety of being wrapped up in her girlfriend’s arms.

Then it hit her.

Her eyes shot open, and she bolted upright. “Oh my god!” she gasped, her voice frantic as the reality of the situation crashed down on her. “I didn’t go home—I didn’t—my mom’s going to kill me!”

Alex stirred beside her, groaning softly as she blinked up at Casey in confusion. “Case…what’s wrong?”

“I didn’t go home!” Casey repeated, panic rising in her voice as she threw the blanket off. She was up on her feet, grabbing her shoes and jacket, her heart pounding. “She’s going to lose it, Alex. I have to go. I have to go now.”

Alex sat up quickly, her expression shifting from grogginess to concern. “Hey, hey, calm down,” she said, trying to reach for Casey’s arm, but Casey was already pulling away, frantically searching for her bag. “It’s okay. We can figure it out.”

“No, we can’t! She’ll know something’s wrong! How am I supposed to explain this?!” Casey’s voice cracked with anxiety as she tugged her jacket on, hands shaking. Her mind was spinning with panic.

Alex stood and grabbed Casey’s hand, trying to ground her. “I’ll help you, I’ll think of something. Just breathe, okay?”

But Casey was already halfway out the door, panic driving her forward. “I’ll see you later,” she managed to say over her shoulder, rushing down the stairs.

The air outside burned her throat with each panicked breath, and Casey could feel the tension in her chest as she sprinted down the street toward her house. Her heart was racing as she approached her front door, praying she could sneak in without anyone noticing. But as she turned the knob and pushed the door open as quiet as she could be, her stomach dropped.

Standing there, just inside the doorway, was her father. High and mighty in his uniform, the image of intimidation staring her down to nothing.

The look on his face made Casey freeze in place, her breath catching in her throat.

“Where were you?”

#alex cabot #casey novak #casey novak x alex cabot #calex #law and order svu #sorry for the cliffhanger

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emeritusemeritus · 1 year ago

Note

Can i request a soft dom Fred and mean Dom George (george is the rougher twin you cant change my mind on that 😂)brat taming their wife and it ending in fluff when they find out the reason shes been so cranky with them is cause they’re expecting.

Please 🙏🏽 if not i understand 😊

Okay this was right up my alley and I could not leave this alone! I personally think George would definitely be the meaner Dom without doubt. I hope it’s okay that I switched the ending around a little with them finding out she was pregnant rather than knowing all along 🖤

Warnings: Brat!Wife x Dom!Twins, George is kinda mean, Fred is the soft!dom. Punishments, spanking, pussy spanking, sex, piv sex, aftercare, swearing. Graphic smut, pregnancy, minor vomiting. Polyamory, two husbands. Fluff and playful banter.

Words: 3.2k

Use your words.

"Say that again," George says lowly, a harsh look in his eyes. His tone is clipped and steady and though his words implore you to repeat yourself, there's no semblance of him asking for you to repeat yourself.

"I. don't. want. it," you reply, eyes filled with mischief as you bite back, though your face is blank and goading.

"Let me get this straight," he says, pinching the little bumped bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "The food you wanted, the meal you requested this morning, you don't want it now? That's what you're telling me?"

Playing this game with George is like winding up a child's toy. You consider your answer very briefly before deciding to keep playing with him. What had been a seemingly normal conversation had quickly turned into a little power play that you we revelling in.

You nod, offering no verbal reply, knowing what it would do to George.

"Use your words Angel," he says, eyes darkening as he threatens you. You simply smile and shrug, eyes fixed upon his as the look on his face turns thunderous.

"That's it," he says, moving to stand and walking over to you menacingly, reaching out to grab the side of your neck with his large hand, gently turning your head upwards until you were forced to look at him. "You want to tell Freddie what a naughty girl you're being or shall I?"

"Fred doesn't scare me," you bite back, the defiant look returning to your eyes.

"I'll be the judge of that princess," a second voice says from behind you, his tone lighter than George's but still menacingly dominating.

You feel him move to stand behind you, hands instantly reaching out for your hips to thrust you backwards until you were pressed against him. His touch is softer than George's but still as deliciously dominant.

"I'd say that calls for at least 5, don't you think Georgie?" He says from behind you, his lips tracing your hair, nuzzling gently until he's ghosting his perfect lips across your ear and don't the side of your neck that George isn't holding.

"I'd say 10, at least mate."

It's almost embarrassing how wet this makes you, the banter between them as they speak about you, as if you're not currently trapped between them. It was no use denying that you'd been slightly... off for the past few days, more than a little cranky and quite honestly rather bratty. Initially they'd let it slide but you could tell you'd really started pushing some buttons now.

"Think this perfect little ass can take it sweetheart?" Fred says quietly, teasingly, his hand moving from your hip towards your clothes bottom that he caresses, getting a handful of the supple flesh.

Your mouth falls open as Fred grips your ass hard and you strain not to make a noise, already enchanted by the game play.

When George's hand moves slightly to gently grip your throat, your eyes fly open until you're staring up at his piercing, ominous eyes.

"Your husband asked you a question Angel," he says with the hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Want," you manage to get out, voice meek and quiet as your thoughts race, no longer able to hide your desperation for them to touch you. You were so wet, so aroused, you needed relief- you needed the punishment. You squirm against their holds, first pushing your hips back to run against Fred's growing bulge, knowing better than to try that with George and then by giving him a devastatingly innocent look as you bite your lip, pleading with Georgie to give you what you wanted.

"What was that Angel?" He sneers, grubbing your throat a little harder. "Couldn't hear you over the desperation."

"Please Georgie, need you," you manage to choke out. Truthfully his hand wasn't gripping you that tightly, merely holding you, but the sheer desperation and arousal was making it hard for me you to communicate, your thoughts cloudy. All you could think of was getting off, of their cocks, their fingers, anything that would take away the burning desire you felt.

"Good girl," Fred says from behind you, his crotch making contact with your ass, his obvious erection pressed between your cheeks as he rolls his hips making you gasp.

George lets go of your throat but keeps his hand hovering nearby until he leans down and presses a kiss right to the column of your throat, your head leaning so far back from looking up at him that you were close to resting on Fred's shoulders. The kiss makes your skin burn, electrifying you inside and out.

"Get on the bed, I want you completely naked and bent over for us, think you can do that Angel?" George says in a menacing tone. You go to nod but stop yourself, no longer wanting to prolong the dance.

"Yes Georgie," you say, though it comes out breathless as Fred's hands begin to wander across your body, his hands reaching up to squeeze your braless tits making you release a breathy moan.

"And?" George adds, one eyebrow raised.

"Yes Freddie."

"Bed," Fred says in your ear, dropping his hands from your breasts until he pulls away, patting your bum to move you, ushering you forward.

You don't hesitate and immediately walk to your shared bedroom where you begin peeling off your clothes frantically. Once you're naked, you climb on the bed and get on your hands and knees, ass up in the air just like they like it, just as instructed. You're so wet that you can feel the dampness extending onto your thighs, the exposed skin of your pussy being nipped at by the cold air.

It feels like an eternity waiting for them, naked and splayed out ready for them to take you.

"Fuck, well if this isn't the prettiest sight," Fred says from the doorway and for a second you hesitate moving to look but you decide fuck it, you were being punished anyway. You'll be eternally grateful for what you see when you turn your head, seeing both of your husbands completely naked and waiting for you, cocks hard and their bodies in complete display for your viewing pleasure. You have to bite your lip at the sight, cunt weeping as you fight to stop the little dribble from running down your leg.

George is leaner, slightly thinner and his cock had the most delicious curve that hits every single spot inside you just right. His arms are folded as he stands upright in the doorway, observing you carefully with a resolute expression.

Fred is wider, in every sense. He's bulkier than George and carries the tiniest bit more weight which is an absolutely delicious contrast. He's thicker and perhaps a tiny bit longer than his counterpart and you can't help the strand of drool that falls from your mouth as you look at him, leaning casually against the doorframe.

"Still think she needs punishing mate?" Fred asks George playfully as his eyes wander over your form, focusing between your breasts and your cunt, all exposed to his gaze.

George doesn't reply, at least not verbally as he slowly stalks over to you on the bed. His hand rises and reaches for your chin before smirking at you and turning your head forcefully until you were looking away, back down to the bed, just as he wanted.

You cry out at the sensation when you feel a single finger stroking along your dripping cunt, a featherlight touch that fuels the fire more than provides any relief.

"So wet," George says in a mildly adoring tone, perhaps the nicest compliment you were going to get tonight. His thumb begins stroking lightly over your swollen clit and you cry out, his thumb precisely catching the little hood of your clit- just the spot that drove you insane.

"Ready for your punishment little brat?" George asks, pulling his hand away.

You can't help but whine at the loss of sensation, hips flouncing as you fight to keep his fingers exactly where you needed. Suddenly, you cry out again, this time much louder as his palm lands a smack on your ass for the whine.

"That one was a tester," he warns, rubbing his palm across the newly hit skin. "Five from me, five from Freddie, sound fair little brat?"

"Please, please," you beg, no longer able to think clearly, hardly listening as you fight to keep your gaze fixed to the bed.

"Good girl," Fred cooes, moving to stand to your side. His cock is right there, inches away from your face just begging to be sucked and your mouth waters at the thought.

"Freddie goes first," George explains, moving away until he squats down in front of you, allowing you to look up at him. He places a kiss on your lips, dangerously slow and teasing, as if he's tempting you, spurring you on. He pulls away with a slightly pleased look and smirks. "I want you to count." He then looks up towards Fred and nods, making your cunt throb.

The first strike lands perfectly on your ass cheek, making you cry out. You count, just as George demanded, readying yourself for Fred's next spank. Fred's spanks are always softer than George's, with tender rubs in between. You count to five and breathe a sigh of relief, pleased with yourself that you'd made it through. George kisses your head as he moves to stand, cock bobbing as he switches places with his twin.

"You did so well sweetheart, so well," Fred says, leaning down to press a seductively sweet kiss on your lips that you never want to pull away from. "Just a little more and you can have my cock, okay sweet girl?"

The cry you give out when George's hand makes contact is louder than any you'd ever done, even though his spa king was much, much softer than normal. Most notably because instead of his hand making contact with your ass cheek as expected, it lands straight on your pussy.

You hear a dark chuckle from behind you as he watches you squirm as the impact.

"Thought I was going to make this easy Angel?" He says darkly. "Spread 'em wide."

The next one has you crying out again in sheer ecstasy, the tip of his fingers slightly catching your clit. You look into Fred's eyes as the hit lands and watch as he bites him own lip at the arousal of seeing you in ecstasy.

"Two," you stutter, losing yourself in the sensation.

The next one lands back on your tender ass cheek, the same one Fred had abused only moments before.

"Th-three," you splutter.

"So perfect," Fred coos next to you, "two more little princess."

Every nerve is burning within you, painfully aroused by their torment. The evidence of your arousal drips down your legs and onto the bed and you're entirely powerless to stop it. You need them, need relief so desperately.

"Please," you beg, looking into Fred's eyes and for a second you think you've got him until George lands his fourth blow, fingers landing on your pussy lips. You can almost hear his fingers making contact with your wetness, the sound of wet slapping echoing through the room.

"F-f," you say, taking a breath. "F-f...our."

"One more baby, so beautiful," Fred says encouragingly, his hands reaching out to stroke your forearms that rest on the bed, holding your weight but barely as your limbs begin to shake. Tears are brimming your eyes through the sheer overwhelm of it, something that Freddie notices almost immediately.

When George's hand strikes you one final time, you cry out in both shock and relief, his large hand managing to catch your red bum cheek and your puffy pussy lips all in one go.

You're broken, tears silently falling from your eyes abs body exhausted.

"Colour sweetheart?" Fred says delicately, stroking back your hair.

"Orange," you reply quietly, taking breaths you needed to steady yourself, confirming that you were okay to carry on but didn't want any more punishment.

"You did so well beautiful, such a good girl for us," Fred says delicately but you're not really listening, your attention is focused on the burning need you have to be filled and of his rather silent twin who hadn't given you any praise or instructions yet.

"Let us love you Angel," George says finally, moving beside his brother to look in awe at your tear stricken face. "You look beautiful," he says, his resolve softening as he looks upon your face.

The moment you feel Fred's cock enter you, you feel immediate relief. George's cock sits heavy on your tongue as you begin to such gratefully, trying to prove to him that you could be his good girl after all. The sex is electric, magnificent. It's a complete entanglement of bodies, so much so that you can hardly tell who is who as they manhandle you and bring you to an overwhelming climax over and over.

In the end, you're abundantly satisfied and exhausted, lying between your two loves who look just as broken as you. Fred deals with the aftercare, rubbing some soothing ointment into your sore backside whilst George holds you tightly into his chest, pressing kisses to your hair.

"You ready to eat, Angel?" George asks eventually as he throws on a shirt and his boxers whilst Fred opts to stay nude, always running naturally hot. You cringe slightly at his question, remembering how you got into this in the first place.

"What are we having?" Fred asks, sitting back down onto the bed next to you, pulling you closer and pressing a kiss to your temple.

"Lasagne," George replies.

Two things happen at once. Immediately you gag hard, throwing your hand up to your mouth to prevent throwing up on your bedroom carpet. You lurch away from Fred desperately, causing him to lose balance and fall off the edge of the bed but you can't stop to apologise as you run into the bathroom and empty your stomach directly into the toilet.

As soon as it had come on, it went. You flushed the toilet, washed your hands and brushed your teeth whilst frowning, wondering what the hell had just happened. You were fine two minutes ago, what had changed?

Until you remembered that you were having lasagne and garlic bread for tea and your stomach lurched again, roiling dangerously. The thought of the oily, strong smelling bread and saucy, slimy pasta had you fighting back another heave.

"Angel? We've got you a glass of water," George calls out through the door. You take a deep breathe, open the window to air it out a little and sheepishly open the door.

"I'm sorry," you say immediately, cringing at the thought of your dramatic exit. "Freddie, I'm so sorry."

"Don't worry about it sweetness," he says with a smile, rubbing his sore coccyx with his hand. "Guess you're not the only one with a sore arse now."

"So you really didn't want the."

"Don't say it!" You say quickly, stopping George from finishing his sentence.

It's brief, a blink and you'll miss it sort of moment that if you didn't know your husbands as well as you did, their little twin quirks, you wouldn't have even seen it. They share a brief look, communicating between themselves wordlessly that is over in a flash, but you know it's meaningful.

Fred turns to you first, offering a softer glance than his twin as he steps forward to grab your hand. George disappears out of the room as Fred drags you willingly into the bathroom so you can bathe together, which you gladly welcome.

You're sat lazing in the bath between Fred's legs and resting your head back on his chest, camouflaged in a field of bubbles when George walks back in to the bathroom. You frown, noticing he was fully dressed, not in the boxers and T-shirt he'd thrown on after your escapades. He smiles warmly at you and you smile back, realising his dominant side had been shelved for now but you frown again when you see the little bag he's holding.

"Hear us out Angel," George says delicately, sitting on the side of the tub, unfazed by getting his clothes wet.

"Don't be mad okay?" Fred says, sitting up behind you, following your lead.

"You're pregnant," they say together.

You simply stare at them, confused and more than a little offended at the insinuation.

"Right because I throw up once and I've been a bit moody lately," you say with a slight roll of your eyes.

"Look sweetheart," Fred starts, "you've been a little... cranky the past few days, your appetites changed, your boobs are way bigger than normal, we just think it would be a good idea for you to take a test."

You look towards George who simply nods in agreement, a smile tugging at his face. You can tell he's trying not to get excited, the hope of what could be.

Under the hopeful gazes of your husbands, you relent, nodding slowly whilst you stare at the little box George has pulled out of the bag.

"Shoo, out!" You laugh, getting them to leave you alone to pee. You smack Fred's naked arse on the way out as you evict them, not listening to their muttering about how they'd seen you squirt, how is it different.

You take a deep breath and unbox the little contraption, looking it over in your hands before reading the instructions. You try your hardest not to get excited or hopeful but you fail miserably, could you actually be pregnant? It could hardly be a surprise, your two husbands both had a certain preference for cumming inside you without protection, but you had no idea that it might happen so soon after stopping your potion.

"3 minutes," you say, opening the door to let them in, both of them immediately walking over to the little stick that you'd flipped over. George had bought in a little egg timer and sets it on the side of the bath, twisting it round to the little plastic 3. Fred still hadn't covered up in the slightest and you had to laugh at him, looking between them at the fully dressed twin and the fully nude one.

"If it's not," George begins to say, looking deep into your eyes.

"Then there's always next time," Fred says, patting his brother on the shoulder, flashing your both a reassuring smile.

"Put some bloody clothes on," George chuckles, shoving his twins hand off him and you have to laugh at the interaction as Fred huffs, jogging off to put some boxers on.

When the timer goes off, you take a deep breath and close your eyes, secretly hoping that this could be it. You open your eyes when you feel two hands slipping into yours and entwining with your fingers, George on your left and Fred on your right. They both lean down to press a kiss to their side of your head before pulling their hands away to let you check the little stick.

Pregnant.

#emeritusemeritus #emeritusemerituswrites #harry potter #fred weasley #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x reader #george weasley x you #fred weasley imagine #george weasley #fred weasley masterlist #weasley twins x you #george weasley x reader x fred weasley #requests

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sonics-atelier · 3 months ago

Text

𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧

Summary : Cresseida from the Summer Court and Emerie from the Night Court are forced to spend time together, despite their very different vibes. What starts with awkward small talk and teasing soon becomes a lot more complicated—and a little more romantic—under the summer moon.

a/n : I have decided to remedy the lack of sapphic fanfics in this fandom.

. . .

The day had been long—hot, humid, and thick with the scent of summer flowers that lingered like a teasing promise in the air. Cresseida had come to the Night Court on the pretext of a diplomatic visit, her light and airy summer clothing a stark contrast to the dark, cool hues of the Court she now found herself in.

Emerie, on the other hand, seemed to exist as a paradox—a Valkyrie who wore the cool, composed aura of someone entirely at ease in her surroundings, but there was a fire in her eyes that no one could miss. She had greeted Cresseida with an easy smile, and that smile had left an impression far deeper than Cresseida would have liked to admit.

The Summer Court was nothing like this—where sunlight bathed everything, making even the shadows seem lighter, the Night Court held a quieter power. Its calm, moonlit beauty was enough to make anyone pause and reflect, but Cresseida wasn’t about to be swept away by it. She could barely stand the soft, silken dark of the Court compared to the bright, endless days she was used to. Yet, here she was, on a terrace of the Night Court’s sprawling mansion, listening to Emerie’s deep, strong laugh echo in the night.

“You’re telling me you’ve never seen a snowflake?” Emerie asked, her voice warm with amusement. She leaned against the stone railing, her posture easy, despite the endless battles she had fought.

“No,” Cresseida replied dryly, crossing her arms. “We don’t get much of that in the Summer Court. We’ve got plenty of sunlight, though.” She gave Emerie a pointed look, eyes narrowed slightly.

Emerie smiled at the challenge. “I would trade some sunlight for a few more snowflakes. You wouldn’t believe how stunning they are.”

Cresseida raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite herself. “I’ll have to see it for myself.” There was a certain edge to her tone that Emerie, being sharp as ever, caught.

It wasn’t just the weather that seemed to make things feel different between them—it was the way they both regarded each other. Cresseida, who had a penchant for being guarded, found herself opening up without realizing it in Emerie’s presence. Perhaps it was the way Emerie’s eyes shone with a kind of fierce determination, or the way she could make Cresseida laugh without even trying.

“What do you think of the Night Court so far?” Emerie’s voice broke through her thoughts, and Cresseida shrugged, a playful smile tugging at her lips.

“It’s… different. I’m still adjusting to the quiet."

“Quiet?” Emerie tilted her head, and Cresseida could see the gears turning in her mind. “I’m guessing you don’t mean the actual quiet. It’s not like anyone around here is silent all the time."

“Well, I was referring more to the lack of constant sunshine.” Cresseida stepped closer to the railing, eyes gazing out over the sprawling city below, bathed in moonlight. “I’m used to the world being bright all the time.”

Emerie’s laughter rang out, rich and full. “The sun must never set in the Summer Court.”

“It does, but only briefly,” Cresseida said, her voice light, but there was a wistful undertone that emerged when she spoke of her home. “In the Summer Court, everything grows, and there’s always something happening. The warmth of the sun is constant.” She paused, looking over at Emerie, her voice softer now. “I suppose it’s the same here, but with shadows.”

Emerie met her gaze, a knowing smile curving her lips. “You’re not the only one who knows what it’s like to live in constant motion,” she said, her tone low but not heavy. “It’s just a different kind of strength. Sometimes, the shadows hold their own kind of beauty.”

Cresseida nodded slowly, appreciating the weight of her words. But she still couldn’t shake the feeling that something about the Night Court, and Emerie specifically, drew her in. Something softer than she expected but equally compelling.

They fell into a companionable silence, broken only by the sounds of the night: distant calls of creatures, the rustle of wind through the trees, and their footsteps on the stone.

Later that evening, Cresseida found herself sitting across from Emerie in one of the quieter, hidden corners of the garden. The moonlight bathed them both, and Emerie’s fierce gaze softened in the pale light, her strength and warmth unmistakable.

“Why do you stay here?” Cresseida asked suddenly, her voice laced with curiosity. “In the Night Court, I mean. You could be anywhere.” She couldn’t help but ask—it was an inquiry that had been brewing for days now.

Emerie paused, her fingers lightly tracing the edges of the glass in her hand. Then she met Cresseida’s gaze, unflinching. “Because this is where I’ve been needed. I’m not a wanderer like some others. My home is here, even if it’s not always easy.”

“You’re brave,” Cresseida said quietly, before realizing how the words came out.

Emerie smiled at her, a flicker of something gentle in her gaze. “Being brave doesn’t mean I’m not afraid,” she admitted, her voice uncharacteristically tender. “It just means I’m not going to let fear control me.”

Cresseida leaned back, pondering that. “That sounds like something I could use a bit more of.”

A soft chuckle escaped Emerie’s lips. “Then I guess I’ll have to teach you.”

The night grew quieter as the conversation shifted, from dreams and plans to silly things—things that made Cresseida laugh without the burden of her title or her obligations to the Summer Court. She didn’t know why it felt so easy with Emerie, but it did. It wasn’t supposed to—Cresseida was not used to allowing herself these small moments of vulnerability. But with Emerie, she didn’t feel as though she were falling. She felt like she was floating.

And then, before either of them could truly think about it, Cresseida found herself standing beneath the summer moon, where the glow of it bathed both of them in silvery light. The conversation had died away, leaving only the soft sounds of the garden around them. Cresseida looked at Emerie, noticing how her hair caught the moonlight, how her eyes shimmered with an unspoken promise.

There was something dangerous about this moment, and Cresseida didn’t want it to end.

“I…” She opened her mouth, then closed it again, unsure how to express what she was feeling.

Emerie, ever perceptive, took a slow step closer. “What is it?”

Cresseida swallowed, her heart pounding in her chest. “I don’t know what this is,” she murmured, the words tumbling out. “But I know I don’t want it to stop.”

For a moment, there was silence between them. The kind that spoke volumes more than any words could. And then, without warning, Emerie reached forward, her hand resting gently on Cresseida’s arm. Her touch was warm, and it sent a shiver through Cresseida’s body.

“I don’t want it to stop either,” Emerie said softly, her voice like a caress.

They were inches apart now, the world around them slipping away. The air seemed to crackle with anticipation, the summer moon high above casting everything in a silvery glow. And then, without either of them saying another word, Cresseida closed the space between them.

Their lips met in a soft, slow kiss—gentle and tentative at first, as if testing the waters. It was nothing like the impulsive kisses of youth or passion. No, this was something deeper—something long-awaited, something built on laughter, shared stories, and an understanding that had only grown between them over time.

And when they finally pulled away, neither of them could help but smile softly, their foreheads resting against one another as they both breathed in the cool, night air.

“It’s not so bad here, is it?” Emerie whispered.

Cresseida chuckled, her heart swelling with something she hadn’t expected. “No,” she said quietly. “It’s not so bad at all.”

. . .

- @sonics-atelier 2025 ( do not repost or reuse in any way, shape or form )

Tagging - @achaotichuman

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billyharringson · 1 year ago

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Ship: Mungrove

Prompt: Character A (Either) hoarded marshmallow bags in the bed and Character B (Either) finds out. SFW c:

Not sure this is what you wanted but this is where my brain went.

"Baby?" Eddie called, unable to take his eyes off the bed. He'd been trying to look for his lighter, hoping that maybe it had fallen from his pocket and gotten lost amongst the covers. What he had found however, was not his kissing lighter and was instead something a lot stranger.

"Yeah?" Billy replied, returning from the bathroom.

Eddie turned to him, gesturing down at the three jumbo bags of marshmallows that had apparently appeared in his bed at some point during the day. "Why are there marshmallows in the bed?" He asked, keeping his tone light and as non-accusing as possible.

In their nearly a year of dating Eddie had learnt a lot about his boyfriend. One of the main things being that he dodnt do anything without a reason, even if that reason wasn't clear to anyone but Billy. The other being that because Billy found it very hard to voice his emotions he often showed them, sometimes in odd ways. A lot of the time it revolved around food as well.

It had started with Eddie finding snacks in his jacket pockets, almost always on a day where he'd forgotten to eat something. Then had evolved into Billy cooking for him whenever Eddie had had a hard day, surprising him with sweets when Eddie did well on a test. Those kinds of things.

He knew better than to bring it up head on, Billy was more likely to retract into himself or even lash out with a mean comment if Eddie tried to get him to explain why he was doing something. He knew that the feeding stemmed from Billy often not having a secure source of food himself growing up. That had changed since he'd moved into the trailer, Wayne always made sure there was food in the fridge and made a point of letting Billy know that he could eat as much if it as he wanted.

It had taken a little while but Billy seemed to finally be accepting that fact. Enough that he now had an adorable little pouch that sometimes peaked over the top of his sinfully tight jeans.

Billy shrugged, glancing down at the marshmallows. "You said they were your favourite."

Eddie tilted his head to the side, studying Billy more closely now. Because marshmallows were his favourite thing to eat, when he was sick. His eyes widened as he noted the flush on Billy's cheeks, the slightly feverish glaze to his eyes, the subtle sheen of sweat coating his tanned skin.

Billy was sick. And this was his way of asking Eddie to take care of him.

Eddie smiled and pulled his shirt over his head, kicking off his jeans so he was just stood in his boxers, know mimicking his boyfriend. "You wanna lay in bed and eat marshmallows with me, baby?" He asked, holding out his hand as he gathered up the bags.

Billy shrugged again, taking the hand anyway. "If you want." He muttered, letting Eddie tug him down under the covers and wrap him in his arms.

"I do want." Eddie replied, kissing briefly at Billy's cheek. Yeah he definitely had a fever. "Couldn't think of a better day even."

"You're a sap." Billy snorted, laying his head against Eddie's chest.

"Yeah." Eddie breathed in reply, a lovestruck smile on his face, because he knew what Billy was saying with that statement. "I love you too, baby."

#billy hargrove #stranger things #fanfic #eddie munson #mungrove #ficlet #prompt

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blindmagdalena · 2 years ago

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Hiya!! I wrote you some fluff, sorry! Tldr the protag (I just used “they”) meets homelander while he’s on patrol and saves his really shitty day with a hug. I’m obsessed with compound v babies that never developed marketable powers, so they’re a little tougher and stronger than most but otherwise nothing special. I think if I continued this they’d only meet again when he was depowered and totally friendless. Anyway, hope you like it! Lots of love, first timer 💕

Homelander’s jaw clenches through that big smile of his, uncaring if a slight malice coils in the centre of his eye. He looks straight into the camera, and feels a muscle under his lower lash twitch as the flash goes off. In broad fucking daylight.

It only stings for a second and he knows it, but the dull ache lately thudding in his ears is suddenly a full roar. He blinks hard and no one sees the flash of red in his corneas. The phone shoved in his face meanders away with the idiot attached to it unharmed, and he gives a bland goodbye. Barely time for a breath before someone else wants Homelander’s attention.

They’re next, tall enough to look him in the eye and waiting at the edge of polite distance for his invitation. He isn’t rushed at, which makes a change for patrol meets.

“Auto-flash is your friend,” they offer to the guy leaving, but he’s too absorbed in his selfie to hear. They shrug like they tried. “Asshole,” they grumble, now more to Homelander as they approach. “Want a hug?”

He doesn’t. But he has the presence of mind to unclench his fists at his sides. At least they asked, this many people in and requests usually become demands. The expectant shout of his name starts to grate.

His hesitation gives them pause, and their smile turns to momentary embarrassment at having overstepped. “If you’re not big on that, I totally—“

“You can’t take it back, now,” he tries not to sound like he wants to show them his teeth. “C’mon, bring it in.” And manages, it seems, when he holds his arms out.

They close the gap, folding their arms around his sides. Letting their hands rest on his shoulder blades, before one of them gently pats the centre of his back. Their chest to his chest, the sound of their heart briefly surrounding him before it quiets. Like they’ve been reassured of something they were afraid of.

Their sigh doesn’t stab at his eardrums, they hug him like this is something they’ve been meaning to do for a long time. And their embrace’s earnest, affectionate pressure makes his uninterested grip around their waist very suddenly tighten.

Homelander presses them against him without a thought, arms like steel bars digging into their back. He waits for a different sound. The hitched breath and scream of pain to really make this day hell. But their ribs don’t bend. Their spine doesn’t fold.

Their voice is a whisper, easy on sensitive ears. A little breathless, but fond, “You saved me once.”

No verbal thanks accompanies the statement, only their warm hand moving a slow circle at the centre of his back. Then, their grip eases. His arms fall back to his sides without needing to be scolded, as if suddenly awake to the encroaching crowd. To what he could have done.

Homelander stares at their still-smiling face. He didn’t fuck it up. They’re fine.

His control on his expression lapses only briefly, but he stares at them with glassy blue eyes. Brow slightly furrowed. He’s trying to recognize them, and he can’t.

Then that face is gone, back to a veneer-grin. They give a little wave, unbothered with being forgotten in a way he doesn’t understand.

They don’t make him lie. And then they’re gone, the whole exchange barely half a minute. His chest feels heavier, then lighter. Homelander draws himself up to his full height, ready for the next in line.

DEAREST.... i love this!!!!! aaahhh, the way he was caught off guard by the sincerity of the interaction, and the lack of expectation for performance or a front, the CONSENT of it all... please, you have such a way with words!

i loved him being so disarmed he just. squeezed. almost like a reversion to that moment as a child, snapping his caretakers spine, only to come back to reality and see that they were fine. that gave me chills! i'd love to see more from you, wow. thanks so much for writing this and sending it my way! 🖤

#homelander x reader #darling anon #ask and you shall receive #first time watcher anon #i'm also very interested in the 'failed' v babies #suuuuch a good concept

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k8epot8e · 1 year ago

Text

Train in Vain: Chapter 1

Notes: Never done this before, I've only ever written academic essays for grad school etc. I got the idea for this story on the train the other day. Wanted to play around with Kid's characterization and his relationship with Kil. The amount of space Kid and Killer are occupying in my brain lately is unhealthy and I especially loved the HC I'd seen of them being in a punk band together. I'd originally thought of this as a one-shot, but I enjoyed writing it so much that I will keep going! My plan atm is to upload another chapter by next week. Please let me know what you think! Going to try to improve my dialogue and action sequences. The general idea is that it'll all happen over the course of one night, like an After Hours, or American Graffiti situation. TWs: Reader is a woman. Sexual harassment of reader. Brief mention of an imaginary sex scene. Light violence. Implied drinking and drugs. Implied familial pressure and sexism. Cursing. Minors dni.

On AO3 I gave it an M but it's a lighter M. Here's that link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53565769

Summary:

You're headed out on a Saturday night when some cute punks help you out of a sticky situation. Next thing you know, you're tagging along to their concert. This isn't something you'd normally do, but they're nice to look at and you need a little more spontaneity in your life. Let's see where the night takes you.

The man was slumped against the faux wood-paneled wall of the train car. You only noticed him because of his massive, muscular frame. He was your age, late 20s, but he had a boyish charm about his face that made you grin. A mischievousness that was noticeable even with his eyes closed as he was currently. His hair stood up in a dark red shock like he'd stuck his finger in an electrical socket. He was pale and riddled with piercings, metal spikes jutting out from his nose and ears giving his angular face an even sharper appearance. He wore goggles loosely at the top of his forehead. A punk aesthetic that seemed simultaneously meticulous and nonchalant. You noticed his massive left arm was metallic from the elbow down. An equally large man sat beside him on the seat to his left. The man was blonde with long hair that layered itself in sharp locks down his shoulders. He had an old-school soul patch that softened his sharp jawline and drew attention to the blue paper mask he wore courteously over his mouth. He seemed tired in a way that betrayed his rough exterior. His traps were huge and strained against the collar of his worn blue t-shirt. Seeing their muscular physiques made you hold your breath albeit briefly as you boarded the train and quickly slid into a newly available seat.

It was mid-Saturday evening and you were making your way to a bar in south Brooklyn to meet up with a friend from college. She'd recently had a baby and her husband had been begging you to take her out. She was always so responsible; you'd historically been one of her very few bad influences and her husband loved you for it. Despite what she would say when pressed, she enjoyed the thrilling sense of ease you coaxed out of her typically rigid demeanor. Your relationship was easy. She didn't need to text or call you to make sure you still felt involved in her life. You could pick up right where you left off, be it months or years since you'd seen each other.

This was how you lived most of your life. Your family and upbringing were so exhausting that you felt an aversion to friction of any sort. That didn't mean you weren't responsible, of course you were. You always did what was expected of you or what you thought needed to be done. You were the oldest girl, rebelliousness was a luxury reserved for other people. Despite this, you carved out ways to satisfy your inner hellion as you could. Little rebellions that you could control but still scratched the itch you had to break everything down. You drank too much, but not enough to be a real issue. You smoked too much weed, only once it became legalized. You had a serious problem with authority figures or anyone for that matter who had the gall to tell you what to do. You would never cause an actual scene, but you'd fume for weeks after the encounter, thinking of clever ways to handle the situation in retrospect. You had a smart mouth, and while you rarely used it on high, your colorful vocabulary and quick temper had gotten you in serious trouble a couple of times before. You secretly loved using your words to cut someone down to their core, but only if they deserved it. When that side of you showed, the really mean one, no one could keep up with you. People would stare at you, eyes wide and mouth agape at your ability to so quickly discern what they truly hated about themselves and launch it back in their faces.

Aside from its ever-looming presence, this side of yourself was far away from you tonight. You were excited to see your friend, and shockingly the sun had been out today after nine days of straight rain. You had your AirPods in and were listening to one of your throwback playlists on Shuffle. The Clash rang in your ears, barraging your poor eardrums with excessive volume as the train hitched and swayed down the tunnel.

You let your gaze travel back up to the two large men at the other end of the train car. It struck you that it’d been a while since any man had touched you, let alone one as cute as the guys you were ogling shamelessly. You leered at the veiny forearms of the blonde, thickly folded into a taught cross over his chest. Your libido, ever your betrayer, flashed an imaginary scene in your mind’s eye. A vision of the man's vascular forearms tensed in a wrought-iron grip around the edge of a table in front of you, while he fucked you mercilessly from behind. You imagined what his strong body would feel like pressed against your back. A warmth bathed over your skin, your imagination tricking your synapses ever so gently. The warm sensation quickly shot upwards to your cheeks as you realized that the man was watching you stare at him. His expression wasn't judgemental or surprised, just thoughtful with the faintest hint of a smirk behind his mask. Your face flushed beet red and you quickly shook your head back and forth, attempting to convey to the man that you were not, in fact, ogling him but rather staring into the distance and were abruptly brought back to reality. This pathetic coverup attempt made you feel even more guilty since you knew your lustful gaze had been obvious. You averted your eyes down and to the right, tracing the lines made by an errant shoelace discarded on the floor.

The movement of the train broke you out of your shameful reverie. The driver pulled the break surprisingly hard into the next stop and your body lurched forward with the car. You steadied yourself on the wall to your left and watched as most of the people in your car streamed out of the train car doors. The older woman who had been sitting next to you disembarked and in her stead, a lanky brunette man with a buzzcut flopped down next to you dramatically. He gave you a shit-eating grin as your eyes met his and you quickly looked away.

You thought you felt a gaze from further down the train watching you closely but you didn't move or look up in an attempt to discourage your newly arrived neighbor from talking to you. This evasion failed miserably as he tapped you on your right thigh a little too high for your liking.

“Nice weather today, right?”

“Yep.” You said as you took out your right earbud.

“Where you headed?”

“To see a friend. What about you?” You mentally kicked yourself for engaging with him. Why were you so deferential?

“Me and my buddies are going out. Keeping the party going.” He nodded to a man to his right sitting across the aisle. His buddy was cute, like him, but something about him unsettled you. Something about both of them.

“Cool,” you said as you tried to put your earbud back in.

You noticed how empty the train car was. You and these two guys were the only ones on your end of the car. Why did this guy have to sit right next to you?

“What bar are you going to?” He asked quickly before you had the chance to put your earbud back in, so you stopped, holding it aloft.

“Baratie. It's nautical-themed.”

“Sounds cool. What's your friend's name?” He asked, staring you in the eye.

“Um, Amanda.” You said slowly.

“Hah. Good. I thought you were gonna say a guy's name.” He said and chuckled to himself.

“What?” You asked instinctively.

“I thought you were gonna say you had a date.” He explained. You were still confused.

“What do you mean?” You asked dumbly knowing full well his implication.

“I mean a pretty girl like you should come out with us tonight,” he said, his smile turning more nefarious by the second.

You'd never thought of yourself as pretty, and being called a girl made you feel infantile.

“Excuse me?” You asked not very aggressively

You knew that men generally found you attractive. You didn't know to what extent, but you knew on some level that you were cute. You never felt beautiful, that was a word reserved for tall, model-like women who were pretty in an ethereal sort of way. The women you found yourself watching in restaurants and clothing stores who made your heart skip a beat. They always seemed so effortless.

You were the opposite. You were small and round and angry and everything you did was full of effort. You weren't tiny but you were short. Despite your size, you always felt enormous and awkward. You were always moving out of people's way because you felt so brazenly wide. This feeling came from being muscular. You weren't ripped but you'd always played sports growing up and took every opportunity to carry things so that your mother didn't have to. You were a force of sheer mass and will. Femininity felt out of reach for someone who took up space.

Despite this, men found your willingness coupled with your small stature endearing. Your muscles and general meatiness meant that you had a curvy body which betrayed how seriously you took yourself. Your boobs were objectively huge which made you feel fat. Your large bust in tandem with your wide shoulders and back made you feel like you were going to hulk out of lithely cut women’s clothes. You didn't shop frequently, opting instead to wear t-shirts that swamped you in their width. You had a bit of a belly from your enjoyment of craft beer but generally, you were in good shape and attractive. You'd never admit this to anyone, but you saw the way people looked you up and down in bars.

Self-consciousness flooded your brain as you stared at the man sitting next to you. What did he mean?

“Oh, haha, no thanks.” You replied tentatively.

“Don't be shy,” he said, wrapping his long arm around your shoulders. You could smell minty alcohol radiating from the back of his throat.

“Haha. No, I'm good. Gotta meet my friend.” You said attempting to shrink from his grip.

His hand tightened and tensed on your left shoulder. He leaned his face into your right ear.

“Come on, don't be a bitch.” He cooed, his hot breath making you shiver in his arms.

All the color drained from your face and your heart sank. “Fuck,” you thought to yourself as your brain scrambled for ideas on how to escape.

His friend across the aisle laughed as he pulled you in closer to his body. He discreetly placed a soft kiss on the base of your neck.

“I know you want it.” He whispered. “My buddy and I will show you a good time.” You felt his fingers drift to your inner thigh as he squeezed lightly.

You froze from shock. Your brain descended into a panic as fear wracked your body. You couldn’t move.

Suddenly, the man next to you was yanked into the air and thrown to the floor of the train, his body making a loud thud as he skidded to a stop across the linoleum. The train bounced as your gaze trailed up the strong legs of the man now standing in front of you. It was the masked blonde man from your earlier fantasy. Your shocked expression caught his gaze. There was a silent rage behind his eyes. You didn't know how he crossed the train so quickly to launch your harasser out of his seat, especially in steel-toed boots, but you were grateful for it. The redheaded punk was still asleep, head resting on the wall.

The harasser’s friend, the man sitting across the aisle from you started to yell. He tried to get up in the face of the masked man but was violently shot backward with a swift roundhouse kick. The harasser got up off the floor while the masked man used his inertia to quickly pivot his feet and turn to face the incoming attack. He caught the harasser’s fist with his large left hand and parried with a swift punch straight to the guy’s jaw. You heard the crack of bone when his fist hit the man’s face. The harasser was once again, propelled to the ground, blood spraying from the side of his mouth. You gasped and covered your mouth with your hand in shock. You’d never seen a real fight before.

At that moment, the train car doors opened, and, seeing the chaotic scene, the people on the platform yelled in horror and diverted to other cars. You noticed the redheaded punk was now awake and smirking at his friend’s handiwork, his large arms crossed over his chest. The masked man paused, breathed out calmly, and turned to face you. You held your breath. His right fist was covered in blood, so after a thoughtful pause, he extended his left hand out towards you.

“You okay?” He asked. His voice was steady and reassuring, his large hand extended towards you, palm facing upwards.

“Um. Yes. I’m alright.” You stuttered, still in shock. You looked the man in the eye. The rage from earlier was gone and all that remained was tentative concern. He seemed worried that you would spook at any moment, like a wild rabbit caught against a fence.

Sensing no malice in his gaze, you gingerly placed your hand in his. It was calloused but warm and reassuring. He clasped your palm and helped you to your feet with surprising gentleness.

“Well I doubt we have much time after that performance” the redheaded punk spat from down the car, standing from his seat. His booming voice filled with deadpan amusement shocked you out of your daze. You looked around, people were whispering and looking at you through the train’s windows. You saw the station cop start to hustle down the platform towards your train car, “Hey! You three!” He yelled as he picked up his pace. “I've got an assault on a train down here” the cop barked into a walkie-talkie on his right shoulder.

The masked man put his hand on your right shoulder and looked at you, “Sorry, about this, but we gotta get moving.” In one swift motion, you were gracefully floated from the ground. The masked man draped your body over his left shoulder like it weighed nothing and held your legs snug to his chest. The redhead laughed raucously as they dashed out of the train car with you in tow. The masked man and the redhead ran side by side as they picked up speed, busting through the emergency exit door and darting up the station’s long walkway to the street. The yells of the station cop echoed into nothing as you emerged up, into the cold night air. The two men didn’t stop running until they reached an alley two blocks away. The masked man lowered you gently to your feet and they both hunched over to catch their breath.

“Kil, I’ve never seen you manhandle a chick like that” the redhead howled.

You tensed.

“Kid, you heard the cop, she was gonna get detained. I had to get her outta there.”

“How fucking gallant of you, asshole. What are we gonna do now? That wasn’t our stop.” The redheaded man finally caught his breath and stood up to his full height. He was huge, even taller than you’d originally thought. The masked man was broad and taller than you but the redhead had to be at least 6’5.

“Um excuse me. I’m here too.” You said looking from one to the other. On hearing this, they both turned and looked at you.

The redhead furrowed his brow at you, “Yeah, we know. You got us into this mess.”

Your jaw fell open. “How is this MY fault you’re the ones who basically kidnapped me!” You said incredulously.

“Yeah, if my buddy hadn’t saved your ass you’d be in a holding cell all night being questioned by Paul Blart.” The redhead shot back, his intense golden eyes boring into yours.

“Kid, knock it off. You know it’s not her fault.” The masked man waved dismissively at the redhead. “My name is Kil. Sorry for escalating things. Just thought you needed a hand.” The masked man reached his hand back out to you.

You took his hand and shook it lightly. “No, I appreciate it. Thank you.”

Kil shot a thumb at the redhead, “This ray of sunshine is Kid.”

Kid crossed his arms over his chest and averted his eyes from yours. “Pleasure.” He mumbled.

“He's not that bad when you get to know him,” Kil added. “We’re in a band and are meeting up with our mates for a show later.”

“Oh that’s cool,” you said, “what kind of band?”

“Punk, genius” Kid tsked and gestured towards his outfit with his metallic forearm.

“I didn’t ask you, ginger” you snapped back. Out of the corner of your eye, you thought you saw Kid’s lips shoot up into a reluctant smirk.

“Like Kid said, we’re a punk band. You’re welcome to come to the show if you’re interested, but I’m not exactly sure how we’re getting to the venue anymore.” Kil answered.

All of the commotion had made you completely forget about your own plans. “Shit!” You yelped and dug for your phone in your purse. The screen lit up and you find a text from your friend. “Hey I’m so so sorry but Lulu is coming down with something from daycare. I don’t think I’m gonna make it out tonight. Rain check?” You frowned at your phone. You’d wanted to see your friend tonight but hoped her daughter would feel better.

“So are you coming or what?”

You looked up. Kid was staring down at you, eyeing the message you’d pulled up on your phone. He had an expression in his piercing, golden eyes that you couldn’t read.

You paused to think. You didn’t know these guys, but despite their gruff exteriors, you felt decently comfortable with them.

Maybe it was because you’d already done your hair and makeup, maybe it was because you were still full of adrenaline, maybe it was because you thought of yourself as more rebellious than you actually were, or maybe it was because looking at either one of the men made your insides twist into knots, but for whatever reason you cracked a wry smile and replied,

“Yeah, let’s do this.”

#eustass kid #eustass kid x reader #killer one piece #massacre soldier killer #killer x reader #eustass kid x killer x reader #one piece x reader #one piece fanfic

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randomized-sims24 · 20 days ago

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I made a lil prequel type of fic for the Slendermansion with a more current take on the relationship between Slenderman and Masky primarily, as well as a headcanon: almost every character's canon event was the result of Slenderman's interference (Jeff getting jumped by the bullies, Laughing Jack being abandoned, EJ's sacrificing to the cult of the Black God, etc) (Sally's story, if I make one of these for her, would be an exception) but yeah, this may end up as a series (some like Sonic.EXE or Herbrine will need a little tweaking or work to make it fit in this little series so if anyone has ideas I'd love to hear them) anyway. Enjoy this little snippet between Slenderman and his proxies

Deep in the woods near Rosswood Park stood an old, decrepit, and crumbling manor, originally belonging to the old Mayors, but has long since been abandoned.

At least, that's how it was to the normal human public.

To a select few, it would be a grandiose, freshly built Gothic manor.

Inside, a creature with pale white skin, no face and a crisp black suit with a red tie strode around the home, checking each area of the mansion to make sure it was all sturdy and ready. Once it was satisfied it vanished, reappearing in the foyer.

A few minutes later two figures joined it, one with a white mask with black eyes and lips and brows, the other with a drawn up hood, a black mask with a red frown and red eyes.

*Is everything settled and ready?* The creature asked, turning and looking down at the two young men.

The one with the white mask nodded, lifting his mask just over his lips as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. "Yeah, everything's ready. I really hope you don't expect me to stay here though. Bad enough I have to be near you already, I think I'd actually kill myself if I had to live in the same house with you." He sneered a bit as he lit his cigarette, frowning when the creature promptly took and crushed it up in one large, slim hand.

*No smoking inside, Timothy. Take it outside at the very least. And I do not expect you to stay. I'd prefer if you did, so I can keep an eye on you both but if you are to be so insistent to leave I won't stop you. We will not be the only ones staying here anyway. And with that said I have a job for you two Tim, Brian.*

The one with the mask sneered again, holding a fresh cigarette, though left it unlit for now and pulled his mask back down. "Don't fuckin' call me Tim. Just...stick with Masky." Beside him Brian nodded, signing out 'and don't call me Brian, it's Hoodie, remember?'

The creatures' shoulders rose and fell like he was sighing.

*Masky, Hoodie. Apologies. Anyway, there is a boy I've been watching, a couple actually.* It handed them each a file, both thin with not much inside.

Masky opened his, briefly scanning over the paper.

"Tobias Rogers, 17. CIPA, Tourettes, OCD, hallucinations. Mother and father, father is a jackass, older sister Lyra died in a car accident which also left him disfigured. Why do you want this kid, sounds like he belongs in a mental hospital more than he does here."

*Tobias has potential. And perhaps may be a bit more willing to work for me than you are, Masky. And Hoodie, I want you to try and bring Jeffery in. Not yet, though. I can sense his potential but he hasn't tapped into it just yet. But give it a few days, a little influence should get it started with him.*

Masky glanced up at the beast, cooking an eyebrow even though the creature couldn't see it.

"Influence? You mean you're looking to ruin these kids lives too? Like you did ours?"

*My reasons are beyond your understanding. You may be my proxies but you are still mortals. And there are some things a mortal simply cannot comprehend. Trying to understand would make you truly mad. Now. Bring me Tobias, and watch Jeffery. I have something to do elsewhere.* In an instant, the creature was gone.

Masky scoffed and tossed his file onto the table, moving his Mask and lighting his cigarette, taking a long pull before blowing out the smoke. "Fuckin' asshole. As if ruining our lives wasn't enough he's lookin' to do it to someone else? Shame I can't kill the fucker."

'Even if you had a way, he'd easily kill you before you could even think of the first step.'

"I know, I know...I just hope he gets tired of us sooner or later and gets out of our lives..."

'Somehow I don't think he will. And if he does let us go he'd probably kill us anyway.'

"Fuck...yeah, you're probably right. But I'd rather be dead than work for that thing one more day."

Masky suddenly groaned, holding his head. "Ow fuck..." He reached into his pocket for his pills, stopping when he heard an aching voice in his head.

*I have my needs for the both of you. For everyone I am bringing through those doors. You will not be leaving my service so easily, or any time soon. I will make sure of that. And take your smoking outside, Timothy. I will not tell you again.*

As quickly as the pain came, it ebbed away just as fast.

Masky groaned a bit and swore under his breath, leaving the foyer with Hoodie in tow as he stepped outside to smoke.

The old, abandoned Mayor's house, in Rosswood forest, was a dead zone, no one and nothing living there. At least that's what the human residents thought. Little did they know what kind of madhouse was beginning to operate in their own backyard...

-end-

#creepypasta #creepypastaficlet #slenderman #masky #hoodie #jeffthekiller #ticcitoby

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