#but oh my god its taken me fucking forever to actually get around to making one of these for real. lol.

[m0th-t33th]

'we'll all dance along to the tune of your death'

HELLO. I AM MOTH. NICE TO MEET YOU.

this is my main blog. i post whatever the hell i feel like, and i tend to get a bit spammy and i apologise for that. IM A MULTIFANDOM GUY!!! i'll infect your dash with a lot of random junk. its awesome.

I HAVE AN ART SIDEBLOG!! -> @zombie-vodka

i mainly use that sideblog for original stuff, like my ocs and such. i do occasionally post fandom art there, too, but its usually stuff im not super proud of or stuff i generally dont blog about on here often and thinks of that nature.

I HAVE AN ART TAG, TOO!!! -> #m0thz art

a good chunk of my art is on that tag, so go crazy. i also have an oc tag (#m0thz ocs) but you can generally just stick to the main art tag if you like.

AND HEY!!! you can get some more info on me here if you wish. i'm not forcing you to, though. do what you want!!! i dont care!!!! im not your mother!!!!!!!!

thats all! stay funky!!!!

[undertheopensky]

Extinction

Whumptober Day 27: I misread Alt Prompt #7 Examination, so I guess this is now a Skies-specific prompt of Extinction. Though if you wanted to get poetic about it, I guess ‘Scars’ would also work.

Characters: Sky, Four, everyone’s kind of there especially in the first part

Trigger warnings: Panic attacks, grief, dehumanisation, it makes sense in context

Read on Ao3!

–––

“No, see, wolves are to wolfos what unicorns are to horses,” Hyrule is explaining to a perplexed Wild. “And rabbits to a pols voice. Y’know, the non-monstery version.”

“Out of curiosity, what the fuck do you think a unicorn is?” Legend asks, visibly fascinated by the whole conversation.

Hyrule thinks for a moment. “I’m pretty sure it’s like a horse with fairy wings? That doesn’t want to kill you.”

“Okay, I think we need to introduce you to more horses than Twilight’s monster.”

“Oi!” Twilight protests, looking up from his leatherwork.

“Last week she stomped and then ate a deku baba,” Legend says flatly.

“So?”

“Oh my god,” Legend mutters. Then, as Time walks up, his patrol apparently finished, “Hey, old man! What’s a unicorn to you?”

“Horse with a horn,” he replies easily.

Wild wrinkles his nose, clearly struggling to imagine it. “What’s the horn for?”

“For stabbing people, obviously.”

“What?! No!” Indignant, Four looks up from his book. “They cleanse water and purify poisons! There are no legends associating them with the battlefield, except for one country that uses them as the heraldry device for medics!”

Time shrugs, clearly unbothered.

“No wings, then?” asks Hyrule, slightly crestfallen.

“Nah, that’s a pegasus,” says Warriors.

“Like the boots?” Legend squints at the wings on his own.

“I think so? It’s a horse with, like, bird wings. One of the noble families back home uses them in their heraldry. There’s a lot of mythical creatures on heraldry, actually.”

“Rabbits ain’t mythical,” says Twilight.

“I’ve never seen one before.”

“Wait, back up – what’s a rabbit?” says Wind.

“A non-monstery pols voice.”

Wind isn’t pleased with Hyrule’s answer. “And what the hell is a pols voice?”

“It’s like…” Hyrule is stumped by the question. “It’s like… a, a blob with whiskers and long ears, except then it opens its mouth and it’s ALL mouth, and all teeth, and –”

“Oh, those! Huh, I never knew what they were called. I only came across ‘em once. And a rabbit is…”

“Smaller and less evil,” says Legend dryly, which which for some reason makes Twilight sputter with choked laughter.

“Oh, yeah - Sky,” Hyrule turns around to address him, “Sky, you’re the earliest -”

“I have never seen a unicorn,” Sky interrupts. “And I’m not sure what a rabbit is, but there’s a lot of flora and fauna on the Surface we’re still struggling to figure out, and I haven’t seen much of it that’s familiar while travelling with you. Things must change a lot through the eras.” He feels his face fall as his heart does. “Like loftwings, I guess.”

“What are loftwings, anyway? You’ve mentioned them before.”

Sky’s brow furrows. “Have I not explained loftwings yet?”

“You got partway through and then we were attacked by those chuchus and got distracted,” Wild offers.

Sky pulls a face. Right, and then cleanup had taken forever, because chuchus. Of all monster species, why were those ones so universal? They were barely even functional! “Okay. Loftwings are… huge birds, I guess is the easiest way to describe them. Each Hylian gets a loftwing partner when we’re young, and we grow up together. It’s - everyone has one. It’s been really weird to me that none of your eras have them. Since we’re on an isolated series of islands - or, well, we were - loftwings are essential to carry us from place to place.”

“They carry you? How big are they?”

“Pretty big.” Sky squints for a moment. “Crimson’s wingspan would stretch between that log and where Twilight’s sitting, easy.”

“Giant birds?” Wind screws up his face. “Like the Helmaroc King? Don’t like that.”

It’s Hyrule’s turn to make a face. “What’s a helmaroc king?”

Wind shrugs. “Massive bird monster. Oh, hey, maybe that’s what happened to Loftwings?”

“Hm?” Sky blinks back from where he’d been imagining Crimson sitting between Twilight and Warriors, sneakily tugging the captain’s scarf whenever he looked away. Goddess, he misses him. “Sorry, what was that?”

“You said it was weird that they don’t exist in any of our eras, right? Maybe it’s because they turned into monsters over time, like wolves and rabbits!”

Sky doesn’t know what noise he makes at that, doesn’t know what his face is doing. He feels cold, and sick, and horrified, because no no no that can’t be what happened please tell him that’s not what happened -

But why did the loftwings disappear? Left behind only in heraldry and insignia, not even their names left to history? How could they have been forgotten so completely?

“No,” he chokes out, “no, that can’t be. Loftwings aren’t monsters.”

“But sometimes animals can become monsters when they’re exposed to lots of dark magic over many years, like with wolfos. It would make sense why we’ve never heard of them, right, if they all became, like, kargarocs or something.”

The voices of the others die away to an indistinct hum. Sky thinks he should be concerned about that, except he’s already occupied with the sudden chill against his skin, the way his heart feels simultaneously too large and too small for the space it occupies, straining and racing, the way his lungs burn when he tries to breathe and ache when he doesn’t.

His head hurts.

His heart hurts.

Slowly, the buzzing fades.

“If we find a unicorn, do you think we can smuggle it back to my Hyrule?” Hyrule is asking.

“The hell do you want one of them for?”

“If they can really purify water, then –”

They’ve moved on from the conversational bomb that had rocked Sky to his foundations. Accepted the explanation without comment or question. To them, it’s just another strange fact about the world, like the way monsters in Wild’s Hyrule will all spring back to life when the moon turns red, or that there’s magic trapped in music. Over time, animals can turn into monsters.

And Sky just – doesn’t know how, doesn’t have the vocabulary to explain to them that loftwings aren’t animals – they’re people.

(He’s never had to explain it before. On Skyloft, everyone knows this, from the smallest child to the most forgetful elder: loftwings are your partner, the other half of your soul. They’re people.

When they can’t even understand that much, how does he even begin to explain how horrifying it is to think of them becoming nothing more than monsters, over the millenia?)

–––

Maybe this time, Sky thinks. Maybe this time the portal will take them home.

To his home, at least. He’s never been away so long before. And his jaunts to the Surface had in no way prepared him for the loneliness of being eras and countries away from his friends and his family and his loftwing. And maybe - maybe with it all close to hand, the feelings at his fingertips - he’ll be able to explain it better to the others. Explain it so they’ll understand.

The saturated colours and faint burr of magic through the earth raise his hopes briefly, but - no. This isn’t Skyloft. Isn’t even the Surface beneath it. It’s - it’s easier to define it by what it isn’t. The Surface has lain untouched by Hylian hands for centuries, ancient and wild. This place - it feels tamer. Steadier. Young, almost, but not in the sense of age - in the sense of, of rawness in its magic. It feels new.

And for all that - he knows the days of Skyloft and her Knights are long behind this place.

“Mine,” announces Four, unknowingly confirming Sky’s thoughts. “We’re not far from Lake Hylia, from the looks of it. Anyone wanna watch Wild go fishing again?”

“Hell yeah!” Wind cheers immediately, over Twilight’s groan of frustration.

“Cub, really -”

Wild brightens. “We should compete! See who can catch the most fish for dinner!”

“Now that’s jus’ not fair, Wild, yer explosions will scare off any fish they don’t kill -”

Always happy to stir the pot, Legend says, “Sounds like a skill issue,” and grins at Twilight’s dark look.

Sitting at the base of a tree - or slumping, more accurately - Sky watches their antics with a quiet gaze and no interest in joining in himself.

He’d known it wasn’t likely. The number of times they’ve gone to a familiar Hyrule are far outnumbered by the times no one can identify, and even then, there’s eight other time periods they could land in. He can’t help the disappointment, is all.

Is this what homesickness feels like?

It kinda sucks. No wonder Wind was so miserable.

He’s drawn from contemplating the pooling unhappiness under his ribcage by Four inching closer, hands tucked behind his back. He looks - nervous. Not like he’s going to try to drag him into the water fight now happening on the lake’s shore, at least. Just uncertain. The smile Sky musters for him is probably not a very good one. “Something up, Four?”

“I, um.” Four rocks on his heels, looking almost uncertain. “I… wanted to show you. Something.”

Sky doesn’t actually want to be left alone with his thoughts, so he nods agreeably and hauls himself to his feet. “Lead the way, then.”

Four takes him far enough into the forest that the shouts and laughter and echoes of Wild’s small explosions fade entirely, before choosing a wide clearing to pause in. “I, um.” Four spins, clasping his hands behind his back again. “I noticed that you - well. When the others were talking about loftwings the other day. You got really upset when they were talking about them becoming monsters, or going extinct.”

Ice shoots through Sky’s heart, freezes over his throat for one critical moment. “Yeah,” he finally rasps. “I don’t - it’s - they don’t -”

Four shakes his head. “It’s okay. You don’t need to explain it. I just wanted to show you -” He fumbles with his pouch, pulls out a child-sized ocarina that’s not quite too small for his hands.

The tune he plays sounds almost like a birdcall.

It’s pleasant, if mournful. Sweet-toned and piping like wind instruments tend to be. Sky wonders why Four had moved them so far away just to play him a short song, and then -

Wingbeats. Loud and unmistakeable.

He startles and looks up as a shadow passes overhead - a shadow too large to be any of the birds of Four’s era - and all he can see is a half-silhouette framed in the sun, but his heart leaps at the familiarity.

And when they land -

A loftwing.

Small, but distinctive: the beak broad and long and golden, the curl of their crest and their tail. Pure white, save the bars of colour across the feathertips - Sky’s never seen one like them and he’s never been so relieved.

“Her name is Zeffa,” Four says, from where he’s half-wrapped around the loftwing’s neck in a hug.

“You never told me you had a loftwing,” Sky breathes, stepping forward to greet them - to greet her, as she reaches out in curious welcome.

Four shrugs, feathers ruffling against his back. “I never knew what they were called. She was always just Zeffa, to me. She came to me when I was eight, in the middle of my first adventure. She saved my life,” he adds, snuggling his face into the side of hers as she ducks down and croons at him.

Sky takes the opportunity to look her over more closely. Definitely smaller than average, but with Four as her rider they’re perfectly proportioned. Her feathers are all clean white, no countershading or freckles or markings except the traditional wing bars, the gold fringed by something he’s never seen before. He’d thought it was a simple deep blue at first but it keeps changing colour as Zeffa shifts and the light hits it in different ways. Green one way, red another; a rainbow trapped in keratin fibre.

Sky can feel the grin creeping across his face; wouldn’t dream of trying to stop. “She suits you.”

Four grins back. He looks so comfortable, standing in the shade of Zeffa’s beak and leaning up against her. “She does, doesn’t she?”

Her mind is different to Crimson’s, all shades of cool water instead of open sky and cloud, but it’s still crystal clear. Greetings, Chosen Hero.

“Been a while since I heard that one.” Been a while since he’d last spoken with a loftwing, for that matter; he hopes he’s not rusty. Hopes she can sense his delight and fondness and gratitude, for the care she shows to Four.

She clacks her beak at him, pleased.

“Do all the loftwings call you that?” Four asks, riveted, and Sky’s heart swells at the knowledge that Four can hear her too.

“Usually just the ones who don’t know me personally, or the ones who are making fun of me.” He steps closer, with her approval.

The top of her head barely clears his own. Taking that into account, Sky thinks her beak is a little smaller, too. She smells of feathers and ozone and rain. She smells like home.

“So loftwings do still exist.”

She regards him with something like sorrow, and his heart drops.

I am the last.

I was born towards the end of your reign; the last true loftwing born to Skyloft. And I knew even then that I would be waiting a long time for my beloved. I was born knowing it.

You grieved that, even then. I was too young to tell you, but I will say now, in hopes you will remember: I do not regret the waiting. They were worth waiting for. She tugs Four’s headband playfully, making him shout in protest when it slips over his eyes.

“How long did you have to wait?” Sky whispers, heart aching. Even if she says - he knows it’s a long, long time between Four’s era and his own.

She shrugs, wings settling back against her sides. Who can say? What is time, and how does it pass? Is it truly waiting, to simply live?

And oh, her personality is shining through - mischief hidden under patience, the glee of being deliberately and annoyingly cryptic. No wonder Four didn’t know what she was. Every attempt to ask was probably met with a riddle until he gave up. Sky finds himself smiling again. Even though it hurts. “You still had to be alone, and for that, I’m sorry.”

There is no fault to claim. All things change. From the kikwi to the zora - as the world changes, all must change with it, or be left behind. She runs her beak through his hair, an attempt at comfort.

Sky buries his face in the side of her neck.

I am the last. But do not grieve us.

Four tugs on his sleeve, breaking the focus of his connection. “C’mon, I wanna - I’ve still got something to show you, Zeffa’s not all of it.”

Sky glances back towards the lake. “Is it far?” They’ve been gone long enough as it is, really, and he doesn’t want the others wasting their time searching for them in a panic.

Four shrugs. “It’s fine. I told Time where we’d be going. C’mon, hop on, it’s not far by air but I wouldn’t wanna walk.” He follows his own advice, clambering up Zeffa’s side with ease and sitting across her shoulders, legs in front of her wings. He doesn’t even seem to notice the lack of saddle.

Why would he? Sky thinks with another pang. Loftwing saddlers haven’t been needed for centuries. Does Four even know they existed? “Are you sure she can carry us both? I’m pretty heavy.”

Four looks offended on Zeffa’s behalf. “She’s not that small! And she’s taken multiple people before!”

I will be fine, your majesty. Zeffa clacks at him, amused.

Sky deliberately does not pay attention to that last part. “If you’re sure I won’t hurt her…”

“You won’t,” says Four, and he’s so confident with him that Sky believes him.

There’s nowhere to jump from so like Four he mounts up on the ground, Four in front and Sky behind. It makes him nervous, riding without a saddle - not because he thinks he’ll fall off, but because what if he hurts her? Crushes her feathers the wrong way, clamps down too tight without leather to buffer the force? And is Four sure she can take off from here, getting airborne is hard enough without carrying so much extra weight -

She turns her head to laugh at him with one large, dark eye.

Her wings spread wide. They’re beautiful in the sunlight, red and green flashing at the edges of her primaries. There’s even some purple in the shadows closest to her body, all four of Four’s tunic colours shining through her wings. Goddess, she fits him so beautifully.

Two steps and a powerful wingbeat and then the air is rushing up around them, catching them like they were already falling, and they’re in the air. It can only have been magic but Sky doesn’t know where it came from; can’t bring himself to care, when the forest is getting smaller and blurrier under their feet and the wind is streaming ice-cold against his face and neck and ears.

Goddess, he’s missed this.

The sky looks so much more beautiful from up here; the clouds like they could be solid enough to walk on (though he knows that’s not true). Laid out beneath them is the kingdom, in lines and squares and patches of colour, abstract and strange. Could he draw a map of this, Sky wonders? Could he figure out where things used to be, if he can find the right landmarks?

Four grins at him over his shoulder, delighted by Sky’s happiness.

True to Four’s word, they’re not in the air long before Zeffa is banking, beginning a descent that for the first time in years makes a pang of disappointment rise in Sky’s gut. Goddess, he wants to go home.

Four lets him jump off when they get close, but doesn’t follow. Sky has a moment of panic before remembering Four definitely has a gliding item, he’s not trapped up there, and then Zeffa’s actually landing with the Hero of the Four Sword still perched on her back. There’s another blast of definitely wind magic as she touches down, cushioning what might otherwise have been a heavy landing. That explains it. Does that happen every time? Is it something Zeffa learned, since there are no sky islands to jump off of here? He’ll have to ask her, later.

“Where are we?” Sky says as Four swings off the loftwing’s back. The ruins they landed in are ancient and unfamiliar, but he thinks - he can almost understand the text carved into stone, if he tilts his head and squints. He doesn’t know this place - it just - echoes, somehow.

“The Fortress of Winds,” Four says. He hasn’t moved from the centre platform, still pressed up against Zeffa as he watches Sky move around. “This is where I first met Zeffa.”

“Uh huh?” Sky’s listening, he swears, but there’s something about the letters on this stone tablet, almost but not-quite the same as his own. If he squints just a little - no, maybe this way -?

Four comes over to tug on his sleeve again. “C’mere, I think you’re moving too much.”

They both sit in the shade thrown by Zeffa, as she spreads her wings to sunbathe.

“Are we waiting for something?”

“Shhhh,” is all Four says in response.

Sky gives up and settles in. With Zeffa’s wing breaking the worst of the wind, and her dusty feather-smell surrounding him, Sky’s the most relaxed he’s been in weeks.

Then he starts to hear something.

High-pitched chitters and whistles, the beating of small wings. Four had said there were no monsters left in the fortress, but that sure sounded like keese to Sky. Slowly, so as not to attract attention, he turns his head to peer around the edge of Zeffa’s wing.

His heart leaps into his throat and stays there.

Birds. Brightly coloured, greens and blues and oranges, perching on the rockwork and hopping around the lichen-covered floor.

Their beaks are short and sharply curved. They’ve lost the long, flexible tails that streamed out behind them in flight, replaced by a fan of feathers that seems impractically small. The feather banding is missing, the white and gold of the goddess and the contrasting partner flashings.

And of course, they’re tiny. Small enough to sit on an outstretched arm; the smallest could sit on his hand.

But the crests are still there, three wispy, curling feathers on the back of the skull that flex and stretch as they chatter amongst themselves. There’s still a flash of intelligence in their small, dark eyes. The nearest hops closer and chirps in greeting, and he feels a press of joy! and welcome! and sneaky, mischievous play? Play! Play with us!

Sky doesn’t realise he’s crying until the tears spill over in hot rivers. Four shoots him a worried look.

“They’re still here,” he chokes out, and smiles.

After everything, the loftwings are still here.

[stxrmxtsu]

How would the brothers feel about femdom?

gooooddd question anon

let’s find out shall we?

(NSFW under the cut)

osomatsu is kinda meh when it comes to a dominant partner. what i mean by that is that he just wants someone around him and he doesn’t care what the hell he gets lmfao. he’s nearly reaching his thirties, he’ll take what he can get.

with that being said, he’s R E A D Y for you.

when you guys start a scene, he’ll do those moans that you hear in porn (you know the overly exaggerated ones) because he thinks it’s something you’ll like to hear, but you kinda just roll your eyes and go harder.

and that’s where you’ll get him to actually make noise for you.

and my god is it the sexiest thing you’ve ever heard come from a man’s mouth.

i think he prefers you taking him via riding however.

i mean getting ass fucked is great and all but the feeling of your walls tightening around him while you’re on top of him? and then the overstimulation after he’s been milked 2 times but you’re still fucking the lights out of him?

my boy’s addicted to that.

karamatsu likes to pretend he’s some dominant alpha male who takes no shit from anyone but we all know that he’s just a bottom ready to be taken at any given moment.

when you came into his life, he thought he could fool you

but by heaven’s grace was he wrong.

the way he portrayed himself at first was something you chuckle at when you remember it.

he kept lowering his voice around you, touching you, telling you that you were all his….

oh how the tables turned when you looked at him with the most dangerous eyes and smiled all pretty to cover up the glint in your eyes.

“yeah? i’m all yours, karamatsu?”

the way your voice dipped was something that stained his brain forever.

and then you chuckled darkly as you pulled him in by the collar, leaning in close to his ear.

“that’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart…..”

let’s just say he ended up really sore the next morning and didn’t look anyone in the eye except yours.

oh please, its choromatsu’s dream! while yes, he’s supposed to be a manly man and a straight one at that….

my boy needs the stress taken off of him.

look, all i’m saying is….

fuck this boy till he cries 🤷‍♀️

he’ll beg, he’ll whimper, he’ll absolutely sob out of desperation for you.

i’m not saying he’d prefer a dominant partner but….he’s not entirely opposed to it

while most of us sees ichimatsu as some dom that does obedience training, i honestly see him as a switch that leans towards sub a little more. but truly, i just think he doesn’t really care what kind of partner you are.

you want it rough? sure.

you want to fuck his ass? go for it.

ichimatsu’s all for it.

on the other hand, i think he’s drawn to dominant women tbh, idk there’s just something so alluring about them that makes his dick hard.

he’s a sadomasochist. (and y’all know how he sounded when he had a fucking flag pole get jabbed into his ass)

jyushimatsu is the most obedient boy you’ll ever meet. the minute you said “i’m gonna take care of you from here on out”, he was all in. he does everything you ask him to.

sometimes he has a touch of disobedience but that’s just to somewhat get of a rise out of you.

but mostly it’s him being your good little puppy.

todomatsu.

need i remind you of my pegging hcs?

no but seriously.

i genuinely think that todomatsu is a bit iffy on having a completely dominant partner. i mean don’t get him wrong, it’s great because he gets mind blowing sex just by talking back at you.

but sometimes it makes him like…feel somewhat ashamed of not being able to ‘be a man’ and all that.

i’m not saying he has toxic masculinity or anything but it’s more so on my personal headcanon of him being like “i’m kinda tired of being seen as someone who can’t fight back”, you know what i mean?

but i think he can adjust to his dominant girlfriend…

besides….

who said you were done pleasing me, [name]?

and that’s that my loves!

hope you enjoyed it, sorry about the vaguness but i really could not think of anything better than this. i still hoped you enjoyed me genuinely answering your question tho!

love you and see you in the next one,

jarvis <3

[behoright]

could you do a kids night blurb for brady skjei? 🥺

kids night with fiancé! brady

this is late SORRY but I mean who doesn't want this at any point. so. warnings: smut, smut, smut. breeding/ pregnancy kink n cursing lol

hahahhaha sooo

basically

you guys have been dating FOREVER

recently engaged tho

you had the most beautiful proposal

stuff from your dreams

brady is the sweetest man but honestly

he's wild in the bedroom

he likes sex to be really dirty and nasty most of the time

you guys are veeery private about it

usually no public sex or anything like that

because he likes to have his space and privacy to

literally say and do the nastiest shit to you

and not have to worry about it

he's very good at hiding his arousal in public

there's only been a couple times that you saw it affect him

he'll just play it cool until you get home

we will say this

brady loves the shit out of you

he is 100% sure you're the only one for him forever

the only reason he took a while to propose is

bc he wanted every. single. thing. to be perfect

he feels the same about your wedding

you plan to be engaged for a while and take it slow

take as long as you both need with the planning

he has very much big heart eyes for you

and yes

he does dream about seeing you pregnant or as a mom

he thought about it beforehand but

it took him by surprise when it SPIKED after the engagement

seeing that ring on your finger just does something to him

he dreams about the most domestic shit

coming home from a roadie and seeing you play with your kids

or in bed rubbing your belly

he's actually been dreaming about it

a lot

and he's very overwhelmed by it

every single night a new wholesome dream but it gives him a huge throbbing hard on

he hasn't said anything to you bc its just a phase and

lowkey scared of putting pressure on you

so he's shhh

but uh kids night rolls around

and seeing you mess around with the kids

or hold TWO babies at once

feed them a bottle oof

the fantasies plague him all day long

he's so disconnected and people notice

especially you

but he's "fine, all good. no worries."

he squirts a lil extra water in his face throughout the game bc

he legitimately cannot stop thinking about you so happy with those babies

what if one day you guys have twins

two baby boys that would look ju-

THE GAME FOCUS FOCUS

during the surge tbh

yes there's many kids around but

he knows where you sit in the crowd and he finds your gaze

looks at you ALL THROUGHOUT

does not break eye contact with you from the ice

everyone notices it

you squirm a lil in your seat sjkdfkjdc

he pins you to the wall as soon as you get home

his tongue deep in your mouth

while he grinds up into you

when he takes you to the bedroom he's still kissing you

you're lucky you don't stumble and fall over anything

as soon as he's pushing his leaking cock inside you

he knows he has to say something god damn it he can't hold it back anymore

and that's when it happens

"god, brady, I just kept thinking about you filling me up and getting me pregnant the whole day"

he's so taken back

his eyes, widen. pupils huge

and his whole face and chest get red and splotchy

it takes him 3 seconds to process what you said before he starts hammering into you

"oh, y/n, that's so fucking hot"

"yeah? is that okay? not weird?"

"fuck no. I've been dreaming about you, as my wife, as a mom and it's fucking driving me nuts, baby."

his head in the crook of your neck

he'd move his hands to grab and play with your tits

"I cant wait till these swell up for me too"

"you want a baby, yeah? you want it so bad, huh, baby?"

"I'm the luckiest man in the fucking world, fuck"

"you feel so good, inside, you're so hot for me, for my cum"

sweat dripping from his hair and forehead

eyes are squeezed shut bc

as soon as he makes eye contact with you as you cum

his cock starts twitching inside you

"oh, brady, are you close, baby? you want to cum, inside me? i love it when you fuck me without birth control baby, I love that you can feel how ready my body is for your cum. breed me, breed me, breed me."

he fucking LOSES IT

legs tense

they TWITCH

he fully bottoms out with his legs fully extended all of his weight onto your pelvis

and he sees stars

his eyelids fluttering he's never heard you talk like this usually its the other way around

he groans for a couple of minutes bc it lasts that long

when he comes back down to earth he just stares at you incredulous

"did you like that brady?"

"I'm so dizzy"

dfjdhakljfh he legitimately has to lie down and YOu have to clean him up this time

bc he's so sweaty and lightheaded

new kink unlocked and he might um

attempt to speed up the wedding a lil bit

just to get to the next chapter of your life teehee

[marley-manson]

Xena:WP for the ask meme!

Thank you 💖

my favorite female character

Xena man. Untoppable. There will never be another female character as satsfying and gratifying to watch as her - not just because I'm cynical but also because the kind of power fantasy she is is tied to the tone and genre of the show, which is functionally dead now.

I love that she's not just the best most competent warrior and person in the room almost every time, but that everyone acknowledges it, and by season 6 it's just taken as a fact of the worldbuilding that Xena is the best mortal fighter in the world and cannot be defeated. I love that she has an evil past and still slips into it at times, sometimes with actual fucked up results (fuck yeah the rift). Love that she does have the capacity to be a danger to Gabrielle and it's part of their relationship that they have to deal with. Love that she's toppy in her het encounters (but it's also implied sometimes Gabrielle doms and that's hot), and watsonianly at least it's for her own gratification rather than for the men, who are generally less into that dynamic.

Love her stoicism but also love that she loosens up eventually and can be goofy. Love that she loves fishing, loves fighting, loves fucking, all unabashedly. She has shame but it's for her past evil actions as a warlord, not for her intrinsic personality traits, even the ones that contributed to the warlording. Love her body language, how she fights as a power house sword and sourcery style warrior rather than as a lithe acrobat (though she can pull out the acrobatics too of course), how Lucy Lawless makes her feel larger than life. Love that she's bi and has multiple female love interests pre Gabrielle.

etc lol. I could go on forever.

my favorite male character

So few to choose from lol, so I think it's gotta be Ares. Some of his episodes make me cringe (Ties that Bind eg lol) and he often sucks, but he's consistently an entertaining villain, I love the frenemy vibe he eventually falls into with Xena, I don't dislike most of his shit in season 5, love his mortal episodes, love that he never gets together with Xena but don't mind shipping them a little on the side.

Caesar has also kinda grown on me this rewatch after not giving a fuck at all about him the first time I watched. His dynamic with Xena is interesting.

my favorite book/season/etc

I think season 2 is probably the best season, but despite some lows I think my favourite is actually season 4. It has a few of my favourite episodes (Paradise Found, Crusader, Ides of March) and I love the overarching theme of exploring Xena's darkness and saying it's great, actually.

my favorite episode (if its a tv show)

God now this is impossible to choose. I've never fully thought about it lol. Have a list of some faves: A Day In the Life, The Price, The Debt, When in Rome, Crusader, Paradise Found, Ides of March, You Are There, To Helicon and Back

my favorite cast member

no opinion

my favorite ship

Xena/Gabrielle of course. They're one of those ships that's incredibly fun to watch to see how far they'll push the gay subtext, but also has extremely solid chemistry, a lot of drama and episodes revolving around their relationship and love for each other, and enough darkness and angst to be interesting. And the old fandom often actually leaned into the drama and darkness rather than ignoring it! Modern f/f fandom needs to learn from their elders tbh.

a character I’d die defending

I was gonna say Xena, but honestly I'm a lawyer for the prosecution there lol, I like to emphasize everything that makes her darker or evil, rather than exonerating her. My defense is 'she did all those things and it was awesome.'

Oh, Najara! I'll defend her to the death for sure, anyone who hates her is wrong, including whoever wrote her second episode lol.

a character I just can’t sympathize with

There are characters you're not supposed to sympathize with, like Alti who's just evil for the sake of evil lol, but that feels like cheating as an answer. Also Michael lol, love that he's a villain in season 6 and totally sucks. Can I say the God of Love in general lol? Fuck all that shit.

a character I grew to love

Joxer 😑 It took 4 whole seasons but I did eventually warm up to him enough that Livia (episode) made me sad lol. Love is a strong word but on rewatch I was fond of him and found him more funny than annoying.

my anti otp

Hmmm... Gabrielle/Joxer maybe?

ask meme

[of-a-chaotic-mind]

9-1-1 Headcanons/Crack

A/N: I found this hiding in my drafts and giggled to myself way too much to not post it lmao.

- Athena kills the spiders. Bobby nopes the fuck away from them as soon as he sees them.

- The team prefers Buck stay away from large amounts of caffeine. Now it's bc they're terrified his heart will give out but before the lightning it was bc the adorable little shit would be bouncing off the walls after one RedBull. (Oh how I miss the days when caffeine gave me that kind of boost)

- Cat People: Buck, Hen, and Bobby

- Dog People: Eddie, Athena, Maddie

- Maddie & Buck take pinky promises VERY seriously. To them they're as serious as signing a legally binding contract or even selling your soul.

- Buck has a tiny adorable sneeze and it's never just one, always a minimum of three. Eddie & Bobby both scream sneeze but usually only once.

- God forbid Buck gets the hiccups. Bc not only do they last forever but he acts like they're gonna kill him.

- The one time the team managed to have a horror movie night the entire living room was covered in popcorn by the end of it bc Buck & Eddie hate horror movies and every time they got jump scared they flung their popcorn. And holy shit Buck screams like a girl. One of the scares made him scream so loud that he scared Eddie who was sitting right beside him who then launched his popcorn over his head and everyone behind them got showered in popcorn before the bowl landed on Bobby's head upside down like a hat.

- Nobody will even mention a haunted house because one Halloween, Hen snuck up behind Buck and whispered boo. The poor goof started flinging his arms around and accidentally smacked the shit out of Hen.

- Saw a meme with Buck thats said something about whats the word for when your hands are bisexual. Here's my take. Buck was trying to explain that he is ambidextrous one day but couldn't remember the word. "Damn it, what the hell is the word for when you can- for when- bisexual hands?!" Hen laughed so hard she nearly pissed herself before answering him "Ambidextrous, Buck."

- Saw someone headcanon that Hen and Buck bought Eddie a fake plant and convinced him was real as a prank. I think pranks are a common occurrence around the 118 but that prank specifically is the longest running and is stil going despite the fact that Buck nearly bursts into a fit of giggles every time he sees Eddie water the damn thing. Eddie actually knows its fake but his friends get a kick out of it so he plays along.

- The word's hippopotamus and Worcestershire are running jokes/challenges for the 118 team. For hippopotamus the challenge is to fit as many ps in there as possible. For Worcestershire it's just seeing who can pronounce it the most incorrect way.

- Buck loves to research shit right? He also enjoys reading. However, just because he can read big words doesn't mean he pronounces them correctly. The team is often lovingly correcting him on his pronunciation. Or sometimes he'll straight up spit out a word and hope they can play auto correct for him and figure it out.

- Hen can smell a budding romance from a mile away. She's also the queen of bets. So far, she holds the record for most bets won amongst the 118.

- Somehow various slang has made its way into 118's vocabulary. No one will ever forget the night Buck made dinner and Bobby took a bite before proceeding to claim it was "bussin'". Or the way Eddie always tells people "don't be so salty."

- The best people at sensing when Buck is about to be Buck are Maddie, Bobby, and Athena.

- Occasionally, someone will host a grill out and yep you guessed it, Bobby and Chimney man the grill (mostly Bobby) in full dad attire. When asked why, their response had the same vibes as "for shits and giggles".

- Buck has taken a liking to the phrase "Fuck it we ball," which terrifies everyone.

- That one tiktok audio but make it Eddie & Buck: Eddie: *lots of angry spanish* Buck: Someone tell me what he's saying! Wtf is he saying?! Dude, I don't speak Taco Bell! Buck can somewhat keep up with and understand it when Eddie is speaking slowly due to his time in Peru but damnit his brain doesn't process fast enough to translate the angry Spanish.

- Everyone has a habit of leaving their LAFD hoodies laying around and Buck has a habit of picking them up and pulling them on when he's cold without paying attention to what name is on the back. He once wandered up to dinner with Diaz written across his back. No one batted an eye except Eddie who pointed it out. Buck's only response was, "I knew this didn't smell right." Buck has also been caught wearing Bobby's hoodie a few times.

- Wait a damn minute. Let's talk scents. Buck wears a cologne that smells like cinnamon and fire. Eddie has a sandalwood or pine vibe. Chimney wears a citrusy scent. Bobby has an herby scent like maybe rosemary or just mint. Hen has a warm and cozy scent vibe to me so maybe vanilla and leather.

Masterlist

[ethernetmeep]

here is a summary of the days events:

horror. horrible. death. decay. misery. slight exaggeration for the adjectives. worried the whole day, no time given to relax. nowhere to go but continue onward. certain derogatory term is muttered twice. discussion of politics. i am afraid of dying. i am afraid of my rights being taken away again

try to stuff down the odd, indescribable feeling besides the vague term ‘agony’— works for another hour. illusion of neutrality soon dies. ring, call failed. call failed. restart phone. call fails. call finally doesn’t fail. asked why i am crying before i actually am. back & forth.

i end up back where i was, on the cold tile floor. its calm when nobody else is around, but i do not have this luxury. people pass me. i hear muttering. absolutely petrified of shuffled footsteps made possible by either slides, slippers, or long pants that extend to the floor. depends on the clothing structure. terrified of it. keep crying, even when i try to force of will my eyes to stop. hand covering side of face, turned to auditorium doors. two people come along to ask me what is wrong— one a past professor, another a man of.. odd relations. gave me the dune book. i tell him i do not wish to speak to anyone in that moment. he gives me a fist bump, reaches out to have me reciprocate i mean. i make a “beep” noise of recognition to the shared act once done. main reason i could not speak is because i did not know what exactly was wrong with me or what upset me besides the entire world feeling like a nightmare.

the system of events in the district is constricting, which does not help. you cannot go here, you cannot go there. you cannot stay here for too long or this person will be upset. i am angered to have to show my emotions to another human being i would rather not show my emotions to, but i am glad to be out. the car windows are up.

when it is only me & one other person i mumble my truth, of events i was reminded of. cried. the world is quite unfair, or maybe it is fair and i am sharing a modicum of others’ pain. if so, it is petrifying how long it lasts. i admit something i rarely admit to others, at least upfront: i am afraid. i am afraid, & it is stupid, but i am afraid.

i proceeded to go to my bathroom mirror and try to tweeze out a bump near my eyelashes. i stopped after a few attempts, primarily because i do not want to accidentally ruin my vision in my right eye forever. i am laying down under a white blanket. i do not know what i feel. i asked my friend if over their month break our event of going to see a movie has a plus one, to get an answer of no. oh thank god, oh thank fucking god. i would rather get every nerve ending burnt aflame and my body desecrated than experience that torture again, was essentially my thought process

at least i had my horseshoe crab plush with me….

[starjunkyard]

Ohmy GOD. Oh my GOD wilson lied to a cop for house . Wilson is fucking blindsided and learns in real time that House is Forging prescriptions under his name potentially jeopardising Wilson's Entire Life Career and Wilson LIES FOR HOUSE TO A COP... Wilson doesn't even have to mull over it . The lie spills out of his mouth before he can even register it... so easily it could've have been a single breath and it would've taken just as much effort

Im just so . Wilson protects house .Enables him without. Without thought .without prerequisites. And you can clearly tell that he regrets it later. in the scene at the end where he's hunched over as the realisation that he's just potentially destroyed his entire life hits him like a freight train and what for? To let his best friend keep killing himself?

Wilson doesn't have a wife. He has three failed marriages He doesn't have a family, kids; as in this job is quite literally all Wilson has. What he's dedicated decades of his life to And .without even THINKING he just. he throws it all away. Like it doesn't even matter FOR .HOUSE

I know i sound like a broken record but I just . God. Im trying to wrap my head around this scene because it actually gutted me when i first watched it .i knew it was coming But I dont think. I registered just how easily and casually wilson would lie to a cop for house

Wilson throws himself in front of house without house even having to ask like He just does it

He just protects and loves and enables house because Wilson just. needs to.

And Wilson will tear down his entire life for house and regret and resent and Hate house for it because wilson doesn't even Know why he's even doing it . Because House doesn't even need to ask wilson to do it. House has never even asked. House DOESN'T ASK He will manipulate and lie and cross and con and backstab people however much it takes to get what he wants But house will never EVER ask because that takes vulnerability. It takes humility and House cannot. handle that. So house will never get on his knees .Repent, beg; shed his facade and be naked for the entire world to see and laugh and sneer at For fear that he'll be seen as an actual person. A person scarred with ugly bleeding flaws just like everyone else that don't make him a better doctor; or more insightful or more right, they're just ugly. i dont think house can handle that

House will never ask. And because of this wilson could leave; snarl and bite and tell house that all of this is his fault and that he deserves every bit of it; that hes awful and horrible and self-serving, and he won't help if house can't even bring himself to ask; to shed his clothing and be naked and vulnerable and ugly and Ask him. thats the least wilson deserves because maybe then he could tell himself that it's worth it. That he gets to see a human side of house that no one else has ever had the honor of but wilson gets Nothing

Wilson can take that out . be completely justified in leaving house to climb out of the grave that he's dug for himself But he doesn't. Againand again and forever he chooses house, again and always

And Wilson will curse and resent and tear himself apart wondering why he's so goddamn stupid when it comes to house: why Wilson doesn't even need to be asked; why protecting and enabling and loving him is like wilson's second nature and Why hes willing to give away everything for him and he. He hates house . Fucking Hates him because the enormity of what hes willing to do for house disgusts and mortifies him .Hates house because Wilson is absolutely aware of how much he knows hes willing to sacrifice for house and he knows thats going to be exactly what kills the both of them, hand in unlovable hand

He'll do anything for house for nothing. Like a dog. Like he's cheap. and its humiliating and degrading and pointless and yet wilson can't bring himself to do anything else

Wilson hates house because of how much he loves him..... how little effort it takes ... How he can't bring himself to do anything else but love house .God

[jojotaxevasion]

Joestars Family Gathering HCs

WARNING: POTENTIAL SPOILERS

Also sorry for not posting in forever and the fact that this just slowly gets worse xd

My dad installed parental controls and turned on exclude all non allowed sites

including tumblr :(((

but I managed to disable it >:D

Johnathan: The Nice Relative

He's the one who hosts the parties because the rest of them aren't willing to have their houses absolutely fucking destroyed

No matter what happens, he smiles and laughs as the rest of the family runs around the mansion, accidentally destroying multiple very expensive things in the process.

As a conversationist, he's very nice to everyone, and always listens to anybody and pretends to not be offended at all.

"Oh! No, it's fine, Its an easy repair!" *Meanwhile in the background, curtains are ripped off, the windows are broken, the rug is on fire, the kitchen table has a leg missing*

oh yeah did I mention he does all of this shit himself

Joseph: The Extremely Strange Relative

Oh boy, this man has seen some shit!

He will always tell tales of his grand escapades at the dinner table, about the time he met a human bubble dispenser, partnered up with *GERMAN SOLDIER*s, found out that his extremely hot mentor was actually his mom which made the entire thing where he looked through the keyhole extremely awkward and fought the three Aztec gods of fitness and their one child whose names happen to be eerily close to names of rock bands.

He then has to fight off everyone else saying that his stories are fake, despite the evidence that proves it.

By the way, all of this actually happened.

"OH WOE IS ME, Y/N!! NOBODY BELIEVES ME WHEN I SAY THAT I SLAPPED THE BAND CARS INTO SPACE WITH MY SEVERED ARM!!!!"

Jotaro: The Quiet Relative

He just sits in a corner and doesn't talk at all.

If someone comes up to him, he just answers their query in an extremely blunt fashion and stops all eye contact.

"Yes Y/N, starfish can walk. Now go away."

Josuke: The Offensive Relative

He keeps cracking adult jokes like he does to his friends.

He also has very controversial opinions, both serious and non-serious.

e.g. Aliens are real (Mikitaka lmao), pineapple belongs on pizza, etc...

As much as you want to laugh at all his jokes and tell him how funny he is, you have to pretend to be disgusted because everyone else is, pepe the frog sadge moment...

"I’VE COME TO MAKE AN ANNOUNCEMENT! DIO'S A BITCHASS MOTHERFUCKER! HE PISSED ON MY FUCKING GREAT GREAT GRANDPA! (Johnathan I think) THAT’S RIGHT, HE TOOK HIS NONEXISTENT SPIKY DICK OUT, AND HE PISSED ON MY FUCKING GREAT GREAT GRANDPA! AND HE SAID THAT HIS DICK WAS “sO pOwErFuL” AND I SAID “THAT’S DISGUSTING!” SO I’M MAKING A CALLOUT POST ON MY TWITTER.COM! DIO, YOU GOT A SMALL DICK! IT’S THE SIZE OF STEELY DAN'S STAND, EXCEPT WAY SMALLER! AND GUESS WHAT?! HERE’S WHAT REAL DICK POWER LOOKS LIKE!"

He then proceeds to destroy the entire house and then fix it, before breaking it again.

Giorno: The Talented Relative

Giorno is a man of many talents. Literally.

As the kid of DIO, he was encouraged to be extra special by his biological father after being taken out of his abusive household.

On top of run the biggest mafia family in Italy, he can play the piano and violin, draw realistic stuff far better than the most talented people on Fiverr, cook extremely high-quality food, and negotiate his way out of basically anything thrown at him.

Oh yeah, and let's not forget the infamous SHOVE YOUR EAR INSIDE YOUR FUCKING EAR CANAL-

Although he is talented, he is still super well rounded, and whenever someone complements him, he always tries to downplay his own talent and pulls the uno reverse card and complements their talents.

Overall, super chill, very nice.

"Oh no, what you just witnessed was something that rarely happens, usually I'm way worse than that..."

Jolyne: The Cool Relative

Man, she is C O O L

You look up to her for her high levels of S W A G, something about all that confidence and badass energy oozing out of her like the disappointment of the Hollow Knight community when Silksong is delayed for the 69420th time. (Haha obscure joke)

The fact that she's a basically a vigilante hero just adds to that.

Also gives good but also bad advice about life in general, and helps you with a lot of things.

Yeah not much to say lmao

"You see Y/N, when someone insults you or your parental figures, don't try to negotiate peacefully. Instead, the REAL way to deal with those kinds of people, is to BEAT THE EVERLOVING SHIT OUT THEM-"

Johnny: The Relative Who Lives In The Middle of Nowhere

Bro really lives in the middle of nowhere

As in a farm somewhere in the wheat fields of the midwestern US

He usually doesn't show up half the time, mostly because something weird happened along the way.

"I would ride my tractor here, but apparently I can't do that..."

Jo2uke: I COULDNT THINK OF ANYTHING FOR HIM IM SORRY-

[perceivedregret]

no more pain, except im lying

pt 4 of so it goes. i'm happy to say i've been consumed. rip my other wips tbh /: you can start from the beginning on my ao3 if you'd like. for now, here's pt4

Steve was thankful when he didn’t actually die the first time.

Now he kind of wishes he would have stayed dead.

He looks around, sees the way they’re all surrounded. Hopper stands by the cabin’s door as they all get meticulously taken down by the Suits one by one, their weaknesses being used in full force against them. Steve musters up what little bit of energy he has left and begs for Dustin and Max to run. Those brats have been through enough, they don’t need to see this happen to the three of them, not again.

Everything goes dark as he feels himself burn up from the inside, the injection coursing its way through his body until he can’t do anything but let it completely take him under.

—-----

"Come on! Stop worrying and just think about how cool this is going to be on the way over. Guys, back me up."

Dustin jingles the keys to Steve's car, holding it up near his face with a wide enough smile to make Steve's own face ache. The keys slip from his grasp and Steve instinctively reaches out to catch them, moving so quickly he disrupts the still air.

"Holy shit," Lucas, Will, and Mike gasp, eyes and mouths hanging open comically wide. Steve tries to limit his abilities, always trying to maintain a semblance of normality to their lives as often as he can, so to catch him slipping up is its own surprise.

"Watch it," he mutters, quick glance at the keys to make sure he didn't accidently bend them. "Last time you dropped these I ended up without a house key and had to climb in through the window."

Dustin's smile somehow gets wider as the back of his hands slap the arms of those closest. "I'm never gonna get used to that, holy shit. But whatever, think about it!" He's already shouldering his backpack and heading towards the door that leads to the garage, doesn't bother to look back to make sure the rest are following. "When has anyone ever had the opportunity to take a picture with their own headstone!”

“God, Henderson, I’d hope not ever. Why are you so fucking geeked about this, you twerp. Shouldn’t you be in like, mourning, or something.” He doesn't know why he's following him because he really shouldn't be entertaining this idea. Hopper would probably end up actually killing him if they got caught since he declared him dead a little over three weeks ago, and he doesn't think the guy would be all that opposed to making it happen this time.

“That's the awesomeness of this because you're not really dead. We did all our crying and grieving when we thought you died the first time when Heather snapped your neck. But then you woke up! You die-but-not-really-die a second time and it kinda loses its effect. Except with death number two you now have a headstone! You’re like Han, except less frozen in carbonite and just frozen at nineteen forever.” 

Mike scoffs behind them. "I didn't cry, did you cry?" He stage whispers. Steve rolls his eyes.

"I don't know." Will shrugs, fingers fidgeting with the buttons and knobs on Jonathan's camera that hangs over his shoulders. "I mean, I shed a tear. I think."

"Oh, fuck off," Dustin mutters, beelining straight for the passenger side.

When they get to Steve's car and are face to face from opposite ends of their respective doors, Dustin smiles so genuinely that Steve can’t bring himself to be the buzzkill. If he's honest with himself the idea does sound kinda cool, but he can’t let Dustin know that. Undead superhuman vampire or not, he needs to work on toning down this kid's damn ego.

“Han huh… that’s the cool dude who’s best friends with bigfoot and has the really fast spaceship, right?”

Dustin’s smile immediately drops, the other three bemoaning as they slip into the back seat.

“He did not just call Han Solo the cool dude with the fast spaceship," Lucas groans, slipping in behind the driver's side.

“Bigfoot? Bigfoot?!” Mike sputters, exasperated.

Dustin’s head drops, chin dropping to his chest so fast Steve can hear his neck crack. His head snaps back up, hands coming up as he taps his pointer fingers together. “First off– Han Solo is one of the greatest leaders of the Rebel Alliance. He helped fight for the freedom of the entire galaxy against the Galactic Empire. Okay, that man is a hero, a bad ass… The best smuggler!”

Steve tilts his head, corners of his mouth downturning as he considers the compliment.

“Oh!” Dustin snaps his fingers before his hand slaps the roof of the car. “He gets the girl!”

Steve’s eyes slip shut at the start of Mike cackling in the back seat. “So... he’s not like Han.”

—--

there's more to this part, catch the rest on my ao3

[ghostbeam]

(for u im sorry its long ily <3)

Dabi, or Touya, as you’ve recently taken to calling him, hates it when meaningless holidays come around but he does love any opportunity to show you even a tiny fraction of his appreciation for everything you do.

You cook for him, bandage him up after a bad night, remind him to take a breath and cool down. These are all things he sees as luxurious, comforts he closed himself off from for far too long. Your tasks may be part of your everyday life but they mean more to him. The fact that he’s part of your everyday life now…it still confuses him how you let it get that far in the first place. He doesn’t ask questions, though. He accepts every time you scrub his scalp in the shower with your fresh smelling shampoo and gladly falls asleep next to you when he can. Blissful domesticity.

At least until he stepped into the cramped kitchen in your apartment.

It’s perfectly sized for one and you have everything where you can find it but you aren’t here and fuck if Touya isn’t having a bitch of a time finding a cutting board to chop up some vegetables for the dinner he planned on making you. 

“This place is so small…how the fuck…” he trails off as he pulls out another drawer, eyes widening as he finally finds the small plastic board he has watched you chop on a million times. 

It’s one of his favorite sights even though he plays it off. Even when he was still just sneaking through your window instead of unlocking the door with a key, he loved to watch your brow furrowed in concentration with each slit and cut. 

Digging in his pocket, he pulls out the recipe he saw in a magazine at the store and ripped off of the back page. Smartphones aren’t meant for a man involved in the things he gets into so he defaults to something a little old fashioned. Touya just hopes you find it endearing as he scans over the words, blinking as he reads over each of them.

“Chop vegetables, yeah whatever.” 

Scanning the page one last time before he places the recipe on the counter and takes a deep breath, he offers a sideways smile when you pad out of the bedroom towel drying your hair. The sight of Touya standing in your kitchen with a tea towel flung over his shoulder shouldn’t make your stomach flip the way that it does but here you are, with a silly grin on your face walking in his direction. 

“Cooking?” Your tone is incredulous and he scoffs, white t-shirt hanging off of his frame just enough you can see a peek of his shoulder blade and collarbone. It’s tantalizing and you’re tempted to touch and feel and do something else less dinner related but the prospect of him cooking for you is too intriguing to pass up. “Don’t act so surprised. Was on my own for a long time before I found you.”

He’s right and you soften slightly, leaning against him as he passes the slip of paper with the recipe in your direction. You read and he watches as the corner of your mouth lifts in a half smile, eagerly waiting for your eyes to meet his.

“Sounds good?”

You nod, nuzzling your head against his shoulder. 

“Sounds perfect, actually.”

With your blessing he begins digging through your drawers for a knife.

KENDALL. I AM GONNA CRYYYYYYY WHAT THE FUCK AJSJWJSKSJSKSJSKSJ u are an Angel I am kissing u square on the mouth are u KIDDING????? Aisjwjsksjjsks I’m gonna die I’m so in love with him what the fuck what the fuck it is so vivid. Him w the towel on his shoulder the collarbone peaking out of his t shirt oh god I have butterflies I am blushing and kicking my feet over this rn what the fuck!!!!! I will literally read it every day forever oh my god🥺🥺🥺I love u so much my angel this is everything to me<333333

[azurelyy]

Hiii! I hope you're doing well ♡ congrats on 100 followers!!

For the event , can I please get #7 of the smut prompt with shikamaru and a female reader?

Ally, you deserve so much better than me! 🥺 I am so sorry this took me forever. Obviously I didn’t plan this event very well lol. I am hoping the length of this one will make up for how long this took me. 

Hopefully you like it! 🖤 I had a lot of fun writing it, and it’s actually my first NSFW for Shikamaru! I know, crazy. Oh, and as we discussed in our DMs, this has Prompt 10 since Prompt 7 was taken! 

Words: 3.5k

🍋 Prompt: “Oh, how we’re going to hurt each other.”

Warnings: NSFW, enemies to lovers, semi-public sex, closet sex, oral (f!receiving), wall sex, unprotected sex. Mentions: Sasuke, Ino, Naruto, and Sakura (NaruSaku)

Tolerate him for one night. That was all you had to do. It was a simple task, one that should have gone off without a hitch. Not even five hours and you’d be free of him, hopefully ending the night in Sasuke’s bed once the envy flooded his brain and he pulled you away from Shikamaru with an ungodly force.

That was the plan, anyway: “Date” Shikamaru for the night, get Sasuke jealous (and then never talk to Shikamaru again, if you were lucky). It was fool-proof. And yet, you had always been one for foolishness.

“Goddammit,” you grunted, wrapping your leg around Shikamaru’s slender waist as he pushed you eagerly against the closet wall, his ravenous hands hiking your dress further up your thigh. “Thought I was too troublesome for you?”

“You are troublesome,” he agreed, sighing against the crook of your neck, hot breath skating along your jaw. “And smart. And sexy. And annoying.”

A traitorous giggle escaped from your throat as Shikamaru’s tongue trailed up your neck to your earlobe, sinking his teeth into your sensitive skin with a moan. “If I’m so annoying, then get off me.”

“No,” he growled, capturing your mouth in a kiss that could ruin the gods. Sparks flew from your bodies, popping the room with warm illumination as heat rushed its way into your mouth and down your throat. 

Your hands tugged at his ponytail, releasing his soft dark hair from its confines as it fell forward and danced along the skin of your shoulder. His body was smoldering against yours, the heat uncomfortable and daunting. Your tongues worked together in an impossible battle for dominance as his nails dug into the flesh of your thigh, branding you in bruises.

“Sh-Shikamaru,” you moaned, running your fingers through his hair. It was softer than expected, silky. “This is a terrible idea.”

“Is it?” He asked with a half-smirk against your lips, his free hand gripping your ass harshly. “My mistake, I thought the two of us fucking during our friend’s wedding reception was a fantastic idea. So, should we stop?”

“No,” you murmured, pulling at his bottom lip with your teeth. Harsh hands held onto your thigh and danced around your back, drawing an indecipherable pattern. His arousal was poking against your thigh aggressively, and he was big. Really big. You gasped when hesitation hammered into you: would you be able to fit all of him inside you? Your eyes trailed down to the bulge in his pants - a terrible idea - and the feel matched the look. It was massive, extremely impressive. You were going to die.

Shikamaru rolled his hand down the front of your body, a welcome distraction, before he slowly started untucking his shirt. You quickly used your remaining strength to unbutton the top three buttons of his shirt, fighting against the warning sirens screaming in your mind, before tugging at his back collar and pulling his shirt off. Ah, yes. Your eyes widened as you took in the entirety of him and the situation. He was lean, yet the play of muscles was truly a beautiful sight. His chest and those abs and that goddamn half-smirk that could crush you with the weight of the world. He was perfect. What a dick.

“Enjoying the view?” He asked coyly, kissing down to your breasts. He licked the outline of the v-neck of your formal gown and you swore the world stopped spinning the moment he slid his body down yours, allowing your thigh to rest on his shoulder while he let your dress drape over him like a cloak. 

Normally, Shikamaru would protest against eating a new partner out without being able to see their fucked out face, but considering the circumstances - mouth fucking the woman whom he was supposed to despise while two of his closest friends had their wedding reception in the very next room - he decided to cut himself some much needed slack.

Did he despise you? No. Did he assume he was meant to? Yes. After all, you were the one who had constantly ignored him. From the moment you were assigned that stupid college final project together, you had completely shut him out. He sort of understood - he was never the “team project” kind of guy, often waiting until the last minute to complete his portion. The reminders had gotten out of hand, and after one particularly long, bad, awful day at work, he’d finally snapped.

“I’m going to do the damn project, woman,” he groaned, trying to put in his earbuds. “Would you stop nagging me? I know what I’m doing.”

“Woman?” You countered, crossing your arms over your chest. He could practically feel the anger radiating off of you like hell’s furnace. “I have a name, you know, Shikamaru.”

He winced at the venom laced within your tone. “And anyway, it’s due tomorrow and I had to do your portion for you.”

“What?” He took an earbud out and stared at you incredulously. “What the fuck do you mean? I told you a thousand times I would get to it!”

“Yeah, and it’s been finished for a whole week and yet you’ve said nothing.” You grabbed your book from the table with a huff and hissed over your shoulder, “I’ll be telling the Professor about this, too.”

And sure enough, he had received an F. AN F! Shikamaru didn’t get F’s. People called him lazy, and self-important, and arrogant, but one thing he had never been called was a failure. And you had literally made him one.

But even after that, he never felt the way he figured he was supposed to about you. Where he should have felt rage he only felt flutters every time you glanced his way. His cheeks grew hot with anticipation when you would sit near him in class, not annoyance. His hands got sweaty when he would run into you at parties, not because he was upset, but because he enjoyed the way your dress hugged each delicious curve. But you never looked at him the same after that project. Well, until tonight.

“Dammit,” your moan brought his head back to Earth and he peeked from underneath your dress, winking up at you. “What are you doing?��

He laughed huskily, his warm eyes shining like ambers. “What does it look like… woman?”

The smirk was especially filthy. There was a brief moment of stillness as you stared at each other. His face was flushed light pink, his lips swollen and puffy. Beads of sweat dripped between his furrowed eyebrows and just as you were about to pull away, Shikamaru kissed your knee, murmuring something about wanting to do this for a long time, and then nothing else mattered.

“Oh,” you groaned, throwing the hem of your dress back over his head as though, if you couldn’t see him, then maybe this wasn’t really happening, “How we’re going to hurt each other.”

“Maybe,” he agreed from somewhere beneath you. A slender finger pulled the wet cotton of your panties to the side, hot breath fanning against your slick walls. Every nerve within you ignited individually and you closed your eyes shut. “But the hurt is half the fun.”

You got no warning as he slid a finger inside of you, overwhelming your senses with extreme relief. A strong moan rippled from your chest and you had to bite your own hand to silence yourself.

“Shh,” Shikamaru whispered, kissing your moist lips. “Don’t want the whole party to hear us, do you?”

Your clit throbbed, seeking the spiral that would pull you apart. You needed it. You needed more. You needed him. His finger, teasing and prodding inside of you wasn’t enough. Greedily, you pushed his head through the fabric of your dress closer to your core, yearning for him in a desperate and needy way.

“More,” you pleaded, and was that your voice? Another finger pushed inside you, torturously prolonging the inevitable. The thickness of him sucked the life from you and you used all your strength to bring him close, closer, like if you stopped you would actually die. There was only the chase, the desperate need to make the warmth spread, to feel full and complete. And, right now, in this small and practically public closet, Shikamaru was the sole person who could give that to you.

“Alright,” he murmured, his lips brushing against the hood of your clit, “Since you asked so nicely, and that’s very unlike you, I’ll help you out.”

He licked inside your pussy, his tongue curling where you were the most wet before sliding up and flicking over your over-sensitized clit. You cried out a muffled moan, sinking your teeth deeper into the skin of your hand as your fingers clawed at the top of his scalp. He dragged the flat of his tongue against you again and again, a sweet torture. Your back arched against the wall and he felt so fucking good that all you could do was helplessly whine like a whore, rocking your hips into his generous mouth.

You babbled his name, endlessly his name, over and over, your voice as smooth as a calming cello. His need to be sucked inside of you was overwhelming, prodding into the too tight fabric of his pants as he ate you out like a man starved. You tasted so fucking good, sounded so fucking good, and he was sure you looked so fucking good too. He imagined the way you knit your brows together, forming that little line in the middle of your forehead that he often saw when you were particularly annoyed with him over something. For awhile, he had been purposefully teasing you, just so he could see that godforsaken line one more time - and now, he was intentionally missing it. What a moron.

Shikamaru’s mouth found your clit once again and sucked, transforming you into nothing but a writhing mess. The knife’s edge of pleasure that curved up your spine punctured through and suddenly you were gushing on him, keening as he slid up your slit endlessly between slurps and breathless groans. 

You couldn’t get enough air in your lungs.

Your attempt at sucking in oxygen turned into a strangled giggle, harsh and giddy. Shikamaru hummed sinisterly and maneuvered his head out from under your dress to behold one of the most glorious things he had ever seen. You, sex-hazed, hair messy and face flushed. And that damn line on your forehead was still there. Perfect.

When you came back to yourself, still out of breath but slightly more coherent, Shikamaru was already pulling your dress up and off over your head. His hands worked your bra, releasing the hook effortlessly, pinching and kneading your tits with intent. Hooded almond eyes focused onto yours as Shikamaru took one of your nipples into his mouth and sucked, hard, forcing a gasp from you once again.

“Fuck me.” It was unrestrained and unbidden, an invitation. A plea. You tugged at his belt. The leather was stubborn but Shikamaru only watched, amused and turned on, pulling off your nipple with a lewd pop.

“Need some help?” His voice was no longer playful; it was carnal. Gruff. Commanding.

It was only then, distracted as you were, that the belt somehow managed to come free.  You popped the buttons of his pants and unzipped his fly, paying no regard to how desperate for his cock you were, as you tugged his pants and boxers down and they fell to the floor.

“Ah fuck,” he sighed, “Wait, my condom is-“

“Can’t have evidence,” you replied swiftly. “I’m on birth control, so it doesn’t matter. Besides, I… I want you to.”

Shikamaru kicked his pants away with a growl - an actual growl - lifting you against the wall. And oh, the strength of him. Your legs clung around his waist and the need for him to be inside you nearly had you in tears. You were certain you had never been hornier in your entire life and, still sopping between your thighs, your clit pulsed for him.

Your lips collided with his again, and unlike the first, there was nothing tentative or careful about this kiss. This was leading, all-consuming; stealing the little breath you had within your lungs with an unrelenting fervor. His thick tip pushed between your folds and his tongue pushed past your lips when the sharp gasp fell from you like a beautiful song. He was the best of the best and the worst of the worst, the man whom you had loathed up close and admired from afar, and tonight, he held you in his arms.

“Shikamaru, please,” you begged, breathlessly. “Please just fuck me. Need you so bad.”

His heart grew wings and fluttered in his chest as he met your gaze, blown out and hazy. He wanted to shower you in affection, raining on you constantly. He didn’t want to let you go. But as he watched you; the way your body moved toward him, the way your hands pulled him closer, he had a feeling this wouldn’t be the last time the two of you would be this close. This was a beginning, not an end. With a new found confidence, he trailed his lips to your ear as he used his free hand to line himself up, the heat of your core seething against his sensitive skin.

“This might hurt a bit at first, but I’ll go slow, alright?”

You wanted to reply with something snide and witty, but the first press of his cockhead against your entrance was tease enough, turning your brain into a scrambled puzzle that only he could put back together. The way he slowly pressed into you, made room for himself inside, even now, he was torturing you in the best way. He stretched you with each inch, but the pleasure and the panic collided into a beautiful supernova of ecstasy and as he dove deeper, the little closet opened up to the entire solar system. You gasped, clenching yourself around him as he grunted and held his big hand tightly to the small of your back.

“Fuck, you’re really tight. Don’t clench like that.” He husked, nipping the top of your ear.

“It’s okay,” you assured, resting your forehead onto his shoulder. “I like it rough.”

Shikamaru’s willpower audibly snapped. The only sounds were his labored grunts, muffled bass from the party in the adjacent room, and the slaps of skin meeting skin. Your eyes closed and you twisted your hips, tiny rocking motions that sent sparks dancing along your veins, boiling your blood. You wanted to play, to feel every inch of him sink into your soul and fill you up. Hands braced onto his shoulders, you rocked up and down, dangerously close to the edge. His hazel eyes watched you intently, sweeping across every inch of your body as if trying to burn the image of you forever into his mind, making you shiver at the attention.

You wanted it on you always. It made you feel strong - powerful - in a way you’d never felt before. Sex in the past had always been good, always been fun. But this was something else entirely. There was a desperation deep within the pit of you that you’d never experienced before; the clench of his hands on your thighs; the way he panted against your lips. This was bliss.

He whispered your name through strings of curses, and you couldn’t help but yield to the subtle command of his tone when he asked you to look at him. You did so hesitantly as he helped you bring a leg down from around him, connecting your foot to the floor so you could spread for him more. He brought his thumb down to rub your clit as his other hand sank into the flesh of your thigh, drawing you closer to his chest. He dived into you from a new angle and you had to grip his hair for purchase as you were pushed back to the brink, your legs quivering around him.

But you were looking at him now. At the tightness of his jaw, the sweaty dark hair sticking to his forehead. At his eyes, watching you in a way they have for all these years that you just hadn’t noticed until now. And for some reason it was here - in the coital cloud - that you were finally able to understand what, exactly, you’d been feeling towards him all these years. And it wasn’t frustration, or annoyance, or anger. 

It was lust. Deep, painful, unfathomable lust.

And Shikamaru could feel it radiating off you, could feel the emotions sinking into the air around your bodies like a vortex. It was overwhelming in the best way, the only thing he wanted to feel for the rest of his life.

You came gradually, like warm water trickling over you, rather than the explosion like earlier. You cried his name in the dark as it dragged its way through your limbs and into your muscles. You chanted his name and he, in turn, repeated yours, toppling over the edge with you, his breathing as stuttered as his shallow thrusts, liquid warmth spreading deep inside of you. And when all is still, when he pulled out of you and pressed a lingering kiss to your shoulder and you settled your back against the wall for support, the two of you found solace.

A terrible knock flung you from your sex stupid fog and you both frantically scrambled to find the clothes that were strewn about the floor in the dark.

“Why is this locked?” It was Ino’s voice, and you almost had a heart attack.

“Finally!” Shikamaru shouted, clasping his belt and readjusting his shirt. “We’ve been yelling in here forever. I think the door locked on us automatically.”

You tied his hair back up sloppily and gave him a quick peck to the cheek as you whispered thank you, grateful his brain was still on and functioning, unlike your own. He gave you a warm smile and squeezed your hand as he unlocked the door, and you felt relief wash over you when you realized Ino was too drunk to comprehend the door does not, in fact, lock from the side she was on. The door swung open and the two of you were on opposite sides of the closet, Shikamaru moving away from you with a godlike speed.

Unphased, Ino glanced to you and slurred, “Finally! Sasuke is looking for you.”

With a shot to the heart, the air in your lungs evaporated. The room was suddenly way too hot. Shikamaru slipped past you briskly and walked from the room, leaving you in the dim light.

“Oh, is he?” You asked, fixing your hair. “Why?”

Ino’s ice blue eyes watched you intently, widening ever so slightly. You could see the realization wash over her like a cold waterfall as she cackled madly.

“Don’t tell me you two were seriously fucking in here?” She was flabbergasted, her slurred speech momentarily cured from the complete scandal she had walked in on.

You rolled your eyes and shoved her aside playfully, only responding with a smirk. “I’ll tell you about it later. I have to get back before the bride and groom notice I’ve been missing for the past thirty minutes.”

You walked back to the reception area with your head held high and glanced to the head table. Luckily, Sakura and Naruto seemed too distracted by giving each other googly eyes and they didn’t even seem to notice your rendezvous with Shikamaru, who had returned to his seat at the end of the table.

You allowed your eyes to wander around the room and noticed Sasuke standing at the bar, watching you with a soft expression. He smiled at you, something you hadn’t seen in awhile, and gave you a quick nod before he looked back towards the dance floor. Instinctively, you took a step towards him, but something tugged at your heart and made you stop.

Your eyes followed the direction of the pull and landed on Shikamaru, who had moved over and was now whispering something into Naruto’s ear. He patted him on the back and glanced over at you briefly, a flicker of sadness in his eyes, before he winked and bobbed his head in Sasuke’s direction. When he turned away, a strong current pulled your legs forward and you followed him back to his chair. He glanced up at you, confusion written all over his face.

“Uh,” he drawled, circling his finger over the rim of his drink. “You went the wrong way.”

“No, I didn’t.” You winked at him and extended out your hand. “Wanna dance?”

Shikamaru’s cheeks flushed pink and he clicked his teeth in response as he took your hand, groaning about what a drag dancing was. You laughed and guided him towards the dance floor, resting your head onto his chest as the song transitioned into something more mellow. He wrapped you in his arms and the two of you swayed together as the crowd dissipated. 

“I’d like to take you on a real date sometime,” Shikamaru murmured into your ear. “If that’s alright with you?”

You lifted your head back to look at him, and when your eyes met, the world sang. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I would like nothing more.”

Please consider reblogging to support my work! As always, scream at me in the comments if you enjoyed! <3

[boop-le-snoot]

@buckyownsmylife hey babe! Remember that one time you threw that cool challenge? Here's my entry. Prepare to get absolutely ruined because daddy!Bruce is exactly that sort of man.

main masterlist ☀️ taglist

emotional support nerd

Your best friend's dad, Dr. Bruce Banner, is hotter than you thought he would be. 6k words, NSFW. Kind of Alt!Reader - she refers to herself as 'goth' in one instance. Tony Stark makes an appearance because God forbid I write a fanfic without him in it.

This is filthy pron, ft. age difference (reader is college aged) daddy kink, throat fucking, dirty talk, praise kink, cream pie, possessiveness, belly bulge and ending with a hint at a threesome. I really crammed all I could from Eyre's wheel in here, didn't I. Oh well.

"How much longer, dad?" Lyra's annoyed voice struck a chord within me. I tried to hide my snickering - unsuccessfully might I add - causing my best friend to shoot me a hurt look, equally fed up with me as she was fed up with her forgetful adopted father. "You know what, we'll take the subway."

Lyra's father's voice, both agitated and apologetic, reached my ears in bitten-off phrases as the traffic noises around us grew in volume, NYC rush hour rapidly approaching its peak.

With a sound huff, Lyra removed the phone from her ear, staring me down with the most amount of petulance I've ever seen on her usually reserved, placid face. "It's twenty more minutes. Apparently he's driving Tony's car," she offered in the way of explanation, like it actually did anything to better the cold, wet situation we found ourselves in. "Please, and I can't stress this enough, please don't be weird."

I felt a flood of amusement at Lyra's pleading tone. "Darling, if you wanted a normal friend, you should have looked elsewhere," I gestured to my outfit. I looked like a goth boy's wet dream: chunky platformed boots, fishnets, heavy eyeliner. Of course, all in black.

"You know what I mean," she whined, waving off my pointing hand and fixing me with a hard stare. "The least my dad needs is someone that is terrified of him just because sometimes he turns into a big green monkey. It's not as exciting as internet thinks, anyway," the last part of the sentence was mumbled but I heard it nonetheless as Lyra stared out into the traffic, clever eyes looking for a particular car model.

What Lyra didn't know was that I was not at all considering to be terrified by the man who dosed himself with radiation and developed an advanced version of split personality disorder. I could be intimidated by him, sure, because he was incredibly intelligent, a world class scientist with more PhDs than I had zeroes in my bank account, but even despite his green problem, Dr. Bruce Banner was about as far away from 'scary' as a man could be.

The few scarce pictures of him on the internet showed a short, stocky man with kind eyes and salt-and-pepper curls, always dressed in un-ironed, crumpled button-ups with dorky patterns. Looking at him, I mused that there was a high chance he spoke with a stutter and that fact amused me to no end. Jekyll and Hyde, alright.

Lyra was much the same way. Shy and reclusive, with curly brown hair and doe eyes, she spent a good chunk of her first semester in college being avoided by everybody because of her last name; I, on the other hand, avoided everyone out of habit, I'd never been a social butterfly, but the way people subtly made sure to exclude Lyra from all the activities filled me with quiet, seething rage, and I stepped over my general distaste of people and removed my bag from the seat next to me so Lyra could at least study in relative peace.

Yeah, yeah, you've heard it all, I'm sure. Weird goth chick adopts a socially awkward, shunned nerd and they become best friends forever. I had to admit that under the shy exterior, Lyra was smart, witty and even funny sometimes. She was willing to entertain my crude jokes without moaning, at least, and I was perfectly okay with listening to her rant about science every now and then.

Rain banged on the slanted roof of the café we were hiding in, the autumn wind howled, making both of us shiver at the prospect of having to go outside, even if it was for a short moment to run to Lyra's dad's car. The day had started out warm and sunny, but much like a badly calculated chemical formula, it all went downhill a split second after we had set out to leave campus.

"There he is," the grouch in Lyra's expression had me once again unsuccessfully attempting to conceal my snorting.

Nonetheless, I followed her out into the rain, struggling to keep up with the brisk running in my platformed shoes, unceremoniously crawling into the car behind her without sparing a glance at the driver in my eagerness to get out of the freezing downpour.

"Hi, dad," Lyra's tired voice spoke up at the same time as I angrily shook out my hair.

"I've just about McFuckin' had it with New York," I was afraid the dye in my hair would bleed out into my clothes, or even worse, the nice, cream-colored car seats.

"Hello, ladies," the voice that greeted us was low, gravelly and apologetic to boot.

My eyes shot up, meeting an expression full of surprise and amusement. I stared at the shockingly handsome face of Dr. Bruce Banner like a deer in the headlights.

The fine mimic wrinkles had stretched into a resemblance of a smile, soft, plush lips revealing a set of straight, white teeth. The five o'clock shadow framed his jaw, giving it a sharp, defined edge, his clever brown eyes slid down my form, faltering on the pentagram on my belt and my fishnet-covered legs, settling on my chunky boots before hastily snapping back up to my face.

"Dad, this is..." Lyra's voice was full of suspicious bewilderment as she attempted to dissipate the sudden awkwardness.

"Oh, yeah, I'm Dr. Bruce Banner, but you can call me Doc or Bruce," he cleared his throat, turning himself towards the windshield and starting up the car.

"Nice to meet you," I busied myself with putting away any stray hair just to occupy myself with something during the time I needed to recuperate from being just... Looked at by Lyra's dad.

It sounds ridiculous, I know, but I was so taken aback by his handsomeness and his aura of a gentle but powerful man that the ride to Stark tower, however swift, went on in slightly awkward silence. The streets outside were, thankfully, noisy, and the lack of an attempt to have a conversation could easily be attributed to Bruce's need to focus on the road, but Lyra's increasingly concerned looks did very little to settle the sudden racing of my heart.

"C'mon, I'll give you some sweats so you can let your..." Lyra's vague gesture towards my upper body disappeared behind her side of the door. "Hey, Tony," she suddenly interrupted her sentence, very obviously addressing another person who I managed to miss as Bruce parked in the spacious garage.

"I've been told you're finally bringing your friend, Green Pea," a voice I'd heard a thousand times on the TV poked fun at Lyra.

She bent down to retrieve her bag, shooting big eyes at me and mouthing an exaggerated "Sorry!"

Tony Stark looked about a week in debt on sleep, a contrast to the way he usually appeared in public. The exaggerated eyebrow raise made me shuffle awkwardly in my spot; the Led Zep tee caught my eyes as I lingered on it, aware of my own Mötorhead top on display. He noticed it too, causing his face leave the snide territory.

"Wow, I didn't expect kids these days to have any resemblance of taste in music but you've surprised me, Corpse Bride," he gave me a quiet wolf-whistle, watching me through lidded eyes.

I felt my eyebrow crawl upwards at his attitude but Bruce spoke up before I could say anything: "Tony, no," so firmly, I had to raise both of my eyebrows. I felt a smile tug at my lips, the situation strikingly familiar in it's essence. Like father, like daughter...

"No," Lyra's identical expression, fond and annoyed, topped up with an accusing finger pointed in my direction had everyone snorting a giggle at the situation.

"Lyra," I whined, just so I could coax her grin that she was very obviously trying to conceal. "See, I told you, every crazy genius needs their emotional support nerd," I fixed her with a pointed look.

She promptly grabbed me by the arm, leading all of us to the elevator as the two men behind us shared a hearty laugh at my well-timed joke. It was either that or I would have completely embarrassed myself by gaping and drooling over both THE Tony Stark and Lyra's father.

The rush didn't stop there. I was promptly and generously offered not only a spare pair of pants but also a whole room to stay in after an invitation to dinner I simply could not refuse. Dr. Banner firmly coaxed me into staying overnight with his pleading eyes and a hearty seasoning of guilt tripping, softly crooning how he simply could not let a young woman to wander the cold, rainy night in NYC alone.

Tony added something too, in a tone way too surefire and patronising. I guessed he noticed my eyes lingering on Dr. Banner, being a genius and all.

In a short amount of time, I found myself seated at a dinner table next to a happy, giggling Lyra who'd downed a glass of wine and was well into her second. I found it adorable how much of a lightweight she was; not hesitating in the slightest to point out that fact when she made hands for a pitcher of water.

Tony was the first one to snark back something vague about his college days and all the wild parties he used to throw, booing Bruce upon discovery that he, in fact, actually studied in college in favour of partaking in various illicit activities. That had both me and Tony giggling with Lyra promptly joining in, both of us losing it over the running joke or her being either a test tube baby or the result of immaculate conception.

Bruce's face blushed scarlet. He sputtered, a few stray drops of his lemonade landing on the (ironed!) collar of his purple shirt, cough disappearing in the wake of Tony's truly amused cackling. Dr. Banner was well on his way to either choke on his Lo Mein or turn green; thinking quickly, I decided to defuse a situation by sharing a harmless, funny story that happened to me as a freshman.

"I went on a date with this guy who said that music was the most important thing in his life, and I thought, wow, that's so beautiful!" I began my story over Lyra's incessant snickering. "So we had dinner and went back to his place because I'm a whore," the whole table erupted in laughter at my deadpan remark, Tony reaching over to give me a high five.

"And as we got there, he put on one of his demos which was just a bunch of sampled and remixed Guns'n'Roses songs, and I thought wow, that's gotta be one of the worst things I've ever heard," I pointedly looked away as Lyra's cackling grew in volume, having heard the same story several times by now and the outrage I expressed at the situation first hand.

"But instead of that I said, wow, that's so cool! Then we did the thing and his whole bedroom was covered in Axl Rose posters and I'm sure at some point Mr. Rose stared right up my asshole," there were tears streaming down Lyra's face as Tony flopped his upper body onto the table and Bruce convulsed helplessly in a silent fit of giggles. "And then I thought to myself: wow, I would have to pretend to like his music if I dated this guy and I just couldn't do that..." I breathed out, succumbing to the mirth at the dinner table. "It was good but not November Rain good, y'kno?"

Bruce snorted loudly, sliding down his chair with a hand over his face. The table shook with the force of Tony's cackling; I didn't see his expression but the howling, rasping noises sent me into another fit of laughter, right on par with Lyra.

"Is this..." Tony rapidly inhaled the much-needed oxygen. "Is this why you keep wincing whenever I play the 'Roses in the lab?" Tony wheezed and Lyra nodded.

"I just... I can picture it, and I-" she made a vague, encompassing gesture and a face.

"Please, don't," I urged with a snort. "There are better ways to get disappointed."

Dinner went on by smoothly after that, everybody happily making remarks on my dating fail, the topic of Lyra's birth and Tony's college shenanigans dismissed.

I caught Dr. Banner's pointed look as we finished our dessert - he was studying me, eyes searching for something that he very obviously wished was there. From the damp roots of my hair to the soft, cotton top clinging to my chest, I wasn't left unscrutinzed and unexamined. Like one of the many specimens he studied on a daily basis, Bruce lingered on the many characteristics that made me stand out in the grey crowd.

"Would you like to see the labs?" He asked, appearing behind me without a single sound.

The freshly cleaned dishes clattered in my arms. I'd almost dropped them, startled, but Bruce's hand landed on the top of the stack right before the top plate would have slipped off and shattered into pieces on the cold tile of his kitchen.

Blood rushed to my ears. "I'd love to," my brain had briefly returned to reality, the rush of meeting both Stark and Banner succumbing to logic and reason. My and his fields of study briefly overlapped, the question he posed was more than reasonable. In fact, many people would cheat, lie and steal to be in my position.

Bruce smiled, opening a cabinet and taking half of the dishes I was holding to stack them up in their proper place. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, exposing wide, muscular forearms littered with dark, coarse hair.

I was sure my face was flaming. After waving off Lyra's attempts to put shoes on me and leaving her to watch her TV show, a wide, warm palm rested on the back of my waist, gently steering me towards the elevator.

I tried to keep my eyes off Bruce in the large mirror on the walls of the car as it swiftly moved down, scrutinizing my appearance instead. My throat bobbed, the elevator car suddenly too small and too hot.

His eyes left marks on me - invisible ones, the kind that I knew were there just from the scorching heat sizzling on my skin.

There was a certain je ne sais quoi about him. Perhaps, it was in the way he was acting - a polar opposite of what I'd had expected, Dr. Bruce Banner possessed a quiet confidence and his patience appeared to be endless, heartily doused with an appreciation for his closest ones. The way his eyes lit up in response to people smiling around the dinner table was hard to miss.

When Bruce spoke about his research - whatever wasn't classified, anyway - the spark expanded into a mischievous fire. I could hardly understand the nuances in his work, scratch that- I could not understand a single word he was saying, at all. The individual syllables registered as they should, but my traitorous brain could only focus on the way he licked his lips in between quickly inhaled breaths.

"You're not... Following, are you?" The corner of his mouth lifted upwards, clever brown eyes fixed on my face.

God, I hoped I wasn't drooling. But to deny the obvious would have been a stretch. "No, not really," I swallowed, willing my eyes to lift from the large veins on the hand that was pointing at a set of equations. Reasonably good at math any day, they looked like the scribbles of a madman to me at the time.

Dr. Banner sighed, letting silence creep among the whirring machinery in the lab for a brief moment. "I don't scare you?" He removed his glasses, cleaning them with the corner of his shirt.

The question reeked of self-doubt and, perhaps, insecurity. "No," I answered simply, not giving him the slightest chance to find doubt in my words. I was barely holding my voice from shaking, afraid he'd misunderstand my reaction to the sudden change in atmosphere.

He was closer to me than I recalled. My hip was almost brushing his, the bulk of his shoulder millimeters from touching against my bare skin, the smell of something herbal, like tea, and sharp chemicals clouding my senses. It was such a contrasting experience.

Bruce turned to me, an expression between hunger and regret forcing me to shiver and look him straight in the eye. A hand landed on my waist, holding me in place with gentle firmness. "I'm a monster, I could hurt you," he whispered, leaning into me like a touch starved kitten. The man screamed contradiction. "We shouldn't."

Vivid images of the Hulk and the rampages years prior flashed through my mind; the rubble, the collateral damage in the form of many lives. I barely remembered it, having been too little to really understand what was going on. One thing, though, I knew for sure: ever since the world became aware of Lyra's existence, there had been no incidents. Sure, the Hulk still appeared when there was a threat, but there were no documented incidents of the green creature running amok, accidentally.

"You won't hurt me," I spoke with conviction. Perhaps, I was bluffing just slightly but I wouldn't lie like that to myself. The variable, the... Twelve or so percent chance of things going... Awry, it made a small, malicious worm inside of me rejoice and fill my limbs with familiar adrenalised yearning. "You're not a monster. Far from it, actually," I used the hand that was not supporting me against the desk to gently cradle the side of his face, letting my fingertips brush over the rough five o'clock shadow on his cheek.

Bruce emitted a sound somewhere between an agitated grown and a pleading whine, sagging with the sound exhale, pressing himself flush with my chest. His face slipped from my palm, the warm tip of his nose running a steady line up my neck, sending goosebumps running wildly down my back as his hot breath tickled the arch of my throat.

"Baby," the nickname punched a stuttered gasp out of me with the intensity contained in just that one word. "I've been hearing all these amazing things about you," his voice dropped, low baritone rumbling straight into my ear. "I won't be able to hold back. I'll want you all to myself," his bicep flexed under my hand.

My knees would have bucked if I wasn't grasping onto Bruce for dear life after those words. I had some sense of personal pride in me, so while my body was an easy, traitorous thing, my mind was more than eager to participate in this game, to ping pong a little bit before... "Yeah? What things?" I breathed.

Teeth briefly closed around my tender skin, nipping for just a second. "You're kind, beautiful," his hand took a steadfast hold on the back of my neck, exposing my throat to his mouth. More skin to mark, more time to whisper. "Intelligent, bright and clever," the more he spoke, the fiercer he became. Bruce's grasp tightened until I was pliant in it, willingly following his silent commands. "A bit of a pain in the ass," a healthy dose of humour was added into the mix as my ass was roughly grabbed, our fronts pressed together at his insistence.

"That sounds about right," I didn't resist the sudden urge to snark, thoughts lazily floating in my head, like clouds on a bright sunny day, fleeting and sparse. None of them caught on. I was focused on feeling the need, on my need to feel.

A sharp smack landed on the plump of my ass, the sound resonating in the eerily quiet lab. The sounds of machinery had dulled at some point, leaving just the two of us panting our lust into each other's space. "I know you can be a good girl. Will you, princess?" His fingertips dug into my flesh, surpassing the soft sweatpants as if they weren't even there.

I could only nod, dumbly, overcome by the sudden rush of blood to my body. The life coarsing through me sang, demanding a release of the pent-up tension.

"What's that?" Bruce removed himself from my neck, catching my unfocused eyes with a crooked smirk on his lips.

"Yes," I swallowed, breathing through my mouth.

"Mmm," he hummed, running both hands over my sides, over the frayed edges of my Mötorhead top. He admired it, briefly, setting his eyes on the band logo that was right over my breasts. Having decided something to himself, Bruce promptly removed it, lifting it over my head with ease and leaving it right on the science lab table.

Taking hold of my hand, he walked over to a hidden set of sliding doors that revealed a rather large, frequently used bed, shutting them just as I walked in, wearing only my bra and borrowed sweats. My back was pressed to the door in mere seconds, hot palms chasing away the chill of the lab as Bruce slotted his lips over mine.

He tasted like something I've never had before. His lips - so plush and supple, took hold of the kiss with practiced gusto, sucking me in without a chance or the desire to escape. I drank from him, sucked on the bottom lip as his tongue explored my mouth, danced with mine.

The room was spinning, the ringing in my ears growing in volume. I was only partly aware of the sensation of sliding down the wall; our knees thudded on the carpeted floor simultaneously, heavy breathing the only noise I could distinguish.

"Breathe, baby, that's it," Bruce coaxed, gently stroking my nape. The soft cotton of his shirt crumpled under my fingers where I held onto him, desperately searching something to ground myself with.

The buckle of his belt clattered and then clinked again as he wrapped the worn leather around my wrists, bringing them together in front of my chest. I exhaled sharply at the intimate gesture, a whine bubbling up from my chest when Bruce used a single fingertip to raise my chin.

My eyes met his; a brown iris tinged with the faintest of green around the outer edge. "This okay, princess?" He sought my face for confirmation, for agreement, for anything.

I nodded, stuttering mid-gesture, remembering our previous interaction. My mouth did not want to cooperate but I forced it to, even if it came out as little more than a pitiful mewl. "Yes, daddy," the word, sweet and sticky like fruit syrup, poured from my lips.

My eyes slid shut as my conscience - or was it common sense? - took hold of the situation. I was on my knees in front of my best friends dad, a virtual stranger, and I'd just-

Bruce's soft chuckle stopped the negative spiral of my thoughts. "That's my girl," he sounded a tad more breathless now, a hairliner in his perfect façade of self-control. As if he'd sensed my indecisiveness, he tugged on the makeshift restraints, pulling me closer, closer and into his lap.

A warm, solid chest with a healthy amount of fluff greeted me. Bruce let my lax, pliant body fall into his arms, catching me effortlessly and bringing my face to his lips. "You have nothing to be ashamed of, you're my good girl," he peppered soft kisses all over my flaming cheeks, my twitching nose, my fluttering lashes.

"Please," I begged, shame giving way to the flood of arousal that seemingly hit me all at once. I was aware of the dampness collecting in my panties, the stiffness of my limbs from holding back the ravenous desire to paw at Bruce like a wild animal. "Please, daddy..."

"I know, I know, baby girl," he soothed, not stopping his tender assault on my face. "Daddy will make it all better. I know just what you need," Bruce finally pulled away. I heard the sound of him undoing his zipper and then the awkward shuffle of him shucking off his pants.

Somewhere in between of all that, he'd ended up sitting down on the bed, wearing only his boxers, his shirt hanging open. The red crawled down his chest, partially masked by the coarse salt and pepper hair; his lips were cherry red and his hair was sticking out in odd directions. Bruce looked sinful.

My eyes inadvertently landed on the impressive bulge in his boxers; in response to my widened eyes, he reached out for it, stroking the outline of his thick cock through his boxers. "Like what you see, baby?"

"Yeah," My mouth watered.

"Baby wants a fat cock?" He teased, sounding like he knew exactly what he was doing, testing my self-control like that. With a flick of his wrist, it sprang free, slapping against his tummy, coating the fine hairs with drops of clear, musky fluid.

I swallowed, feeling the taste of him from afar and yearning for more where I was parked between his spread legs.

In a gesture almost loving, he tugged on the belt still wrapped around my wrists, bringing my face to his leaking shaft and my hands to the base of it, letting me feel the weight of his balls in them. The cock throbbed, neglected, weighed down by the heaviness of his full balls.

"Go ahead, baby, suck my cock," the encouragement came with a gentle push to my head.

I obediently followed, wrapping my lips around the pink, moist crown of it, a hum beginning in the back of my throat. My God, Bruce tasted heavenly... I whirled and slipped my tongue a around his head, I dipped into the slit to drink the nectar right from the tap, idly coming to awareness of the broken, choked moans coming from the man above me.

Raising my head got me a view of his chin; head thrown back, the lax O of his mouth glistened in the meager light. My eyes slid lower, to the flex of his abs. Bruce fought hard to stay still. The desire consumed me, a sudden rush of power at having Dr. Bruce Banner's cock in my mouth and the man at my mercy; I inhaled, sliding my mouth further and further down his throbbing length.

"Fuck," I heard him mutter before his hands gripped the sides of my face. "Hungry, baby, are you?" His eyes glowed a faint green; I shuddered at the power he held within himself. Held back for me. "Tap my thigh twice," he spoke and I had no choice but to obey. "Okay. Do that if it gets too much, alright?" I nodded. He gave me a wide, beaming smile. "Good girl," he praised, experimentally bucking his hips into my mouth a few times.

In and out. I focused on my breathing, sharp, little inhales: his girth took up all the free space in my mouth, the tip of it barely fit into my throat. The burn, the stretch; I felt every tenth of an inch, every bulging attempt of my body to accommodate Bruce's huge cock. It was delicious, I couldn't help but crave the same stretch in my neglected, sopping wet pussy.

"Fuck, you're taking it so well," Bruce moaned wetly. "Your mouth... S'like heaven... Could fuck it all day, that's my good girl," the rambling increased in it's intensity as the pace of his hips hastened. Drool and tears flowed like a river; my chin was dropping with it, spit connected my face to his pelvis. "Oh," there was a brief pause to his movements; suddenly, he pulled out, fisting the base of his cock, staring me down with a ferocious gleem in his eye.

I must've looked a straight mess; my face like a crime scene, my clothes disheveled, covered in fluids and most of all - I was desperately grinding against my own feet, too focused on the glorious cock in front of me to notice the weakness of my own flesh. "Daddy?" I questioned, wincing at the grating of my own voice.

Without a word, the belt was tugged once more; in a set of movements just slightly north of acrobatic, I found myself laying on my back in the middle of the bed, my sweatpants suffering a haste demise in the corner of the room.

Bruce crawled atop me, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses on every inch of my skin he could reach, mouthing something inaudible into every pore of my body. As he drew closer, I discerned bitten-off phrases, stringing my desire into sticky, tangy mess at the apex of my thighs.

"My perfect baby girl," the words reached me; all tongue, he kissed me once more, arching into me as much as I arched into his hot grasp. A brief inspection of my face - he was satisfied with what he saw - and Bruce crawled back, settling in between my spread legs, breathing hot air on the lips of my sex still covered by a sopping wet piece of fabric.

"Oh fuck," I yelped, feeling him smooch it soundly, the hot wetness of his tongue penetrating the meagre lace barrier with ease.

He moved it aside anyway, with a single finger, giving my pussy a broad lick, moaning into my cunt like a man gone mad. It took a few more licks for him to feel sated enough to surface, all the while holding my hips down. I was so sensitive, I felt even the tiniest flicks to my clit, I was sure if I didn't cum then and there, I would explode.

"Such a pretty pussy, princess," his heavy breathing paused briefly. He nipped my thigh. "So wet, is that all for me?"

"Yes, yes, daddy," I rasped, pushing my cunt into his face, losing all shame and trepidation.

"So tasty," he continued the torture, outlining my lower lips before taking another nosedive right into it, swirling his tongue around every fold, sucking onto my clit.

Bruce ate my pussy until my thighs shook, until my core quivered and I could no longer hold back the choked, ragged screams starting somewhere in the low of my belly and coming out as unholy, all-consuming yowls filled with unadulterated lust.

"Louder for me, baby," he inhaled rapidly, and then, he sucked on my clit.

The world stopped, halted on it's axis, every muscle going rigid in my body and every nerve ending simultaneously coming alive. Faintly, I heard a chant, repeating two syllables over and over, it sounded like my voice - but I had no control over myself. All I could do was weakly grind my hips against Bruce's mouth, faltering when the crashing waves of my orgasm began to recede.

The infuriating overstimulation stopped; blinking hazily, I saw Bruce's eyes glimmer brown and green in front of my face. His nose and his chin was glistening with a thin coat of sticky fluid; disheveled and red, he looked a man on the verge of a revelation.

Something hot and blunt nosed at my cunt, bringing back the moment to me - I realized, with a great deal of impatience - how empty I felt. The decision was minute. "Daddy, fuck me, please, I want your cock," the words came easily.

"That's my girl," his eyes fluttered shut as the first inches squeezed through the snug of my cunt. I was sopping wet and as relaxed as I'd be, but even then, it was a stretch. "Good girl, good baby," the mumbled praise made me whine and my pussy clamp on his cock. "Relax, let daddy fill you up." Breathing through it, I consciously unwound myself around him, letting my palms rest freely on his shoulders. "Let daddy take care of you."

Like melted sugar, his husked words stuck to me inside and out. Short, sharp thrusts; Bruce was patiently burrowing himself inside of me, making his way to reach the deepest parts of me I didn't even know existed. His cock head pressed against something hard and spongy inside of me; stars burst behind my eyes I'd clamped shut on reflex.

I moaned weakly, tugging on his arm, pressing myself closer. It felt so, so good. Like a raw nerve had been exposed and he was stroking it, pushing that little switch with every stroke of his hips.

"I'm not gonna last," he muttered as once again, my cunt squeezed him snugly in place, just as greedy as I was to feel that tiny explosion spark up within me again.

"I want..." I panted. Bruce set in a punishing pace after that, a palm under my ass, squeezing it so hard there would definitely be bruising. I craved it, I needed to see the evidence this was not some elaborate fever dream. "I want... Daddy to fill me up," words came out garbled; it sounded like gibberish to my ears but Bruce - they spurred him on.

"Oh yeah?" That breathless, boyish cockiness was back in his voice again; despite how fucked out he sounded, I prepared myself for something truly out of this world. I just knew.

He sat back on his shins, dragging me by the hips with him, making me shiver and moan and twitch and clamp onto him again as his throbbing cock hit that special spot again. And again. And again.

"Look at me, baby," a hand on my belly and his eyes burning right through me. As they slid down, towards the apex of my thighs where he was still moving within me almost lazily, I saw it.

"Oh fuck," I couldn't utter much more than a two-syllabled profanity. There was a bulge in my belly, just above my pelvis, moving in rhythm with Bruce's hips. And then he pressed on it and I-

Something, someone, somewhere was screaming. The noise was loud and pitched, but even then, I could barely hear it though the neverending waves of bliss that enveloped my whole being. Gold and silver at the edges of my rapidly darkening vision; I was drowning in something that smelled and felt like Bruce. The safety of his arms, the warmth of his heated body, the rapid snapping of his hips-

Oh.

"I'm gonna, fuck," the last word was but a ghost of a human speech. Growling low and filthy, Bruce leaned into my ear, his breath hot and moist. "Mine," his hips stuttered, his cock nestled deep, the sensation bordering on painful, forcefully extracted pleasure. It throbbed with every spurt of his seed; each one felt like a solid punch in the gut to my abused pussy.

"Daddy," I mewled, my body jerking away from him but my mind and my soul yearning for more. His rapidly softening flesh made the idea of being separated unbearable.

"S'good, s'my good girl, m'so proud," he mumbled, looking slightly disoriented as he removed himself from me, immediately pressing me to his side and interwining any free, flailing limbs.

We laid in silence, each of us slowly coming back to Earth after the completely unreal experience we just had. I didn't know what to think, didn't know what to do as the realization set in, the post-orgasmic haze giving way to a sudden rush of clarity.

"I can hear you overthinking," Bruce's voice was fond.

Before I could muster up the courage to snark back, the divided doors opened, one very concerned Tony Stark standing there, armed with a tranquilizer gun in one hand and a pack of cookies in the other. His mouth, previously open to (probably) yell at us, remained as open when his eyes had registered the scene in front of him.

I stared at Bruce. Bruce stared at Tony.

"The noise," he offered in the way of explanation, dangling the pack of cookies, looking, for once - speechless. He recovered quickly, however, even if the remark was a thin ghost of his usual sass: "You pick the nerd over me? I'm hurt," he scoffed in mock irritation, although I was pretty sure I saw some satisfaction in there, too.

Bruce looked at me. I looked at Bruce.

A mischievous grin slowly crept up his face, an identical one beginning to appear on my own face seconds after.

"Hey, two nerds is better than one, right?" My response is what did it; or, rather, it was the evidence of my previous throat-fucking clearly audible in my voice... Tony dropped the cookies and then, the tranq gun.

Bruce Banner taglist: @pilloclock @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @persephonehemingway @mostly-marvel-musings @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @sapphicnoodle69 @couldntbedamned @xoxabs88xox @marvelsbanner @tripleyeeet @tatestripedsweater @stuckybarton

[cynettic]

Stay with Me pt.3

Summary - You manage to escape from Scaramouche, if only for a moment before you realize there’s no escape. It only takes until you’re sitting back in your regular spot that you know what you need to do.

Pairings - Kitsune!Reader x Yan!Scaramouche

Warnings - Suggestive content, mentions of death, swearing, slight gore / blood 

A/N - Its really hard to make this depressing while I’m vibing to Rasputin. Like no joke- I have it on one of the 1 hour playlists :D

Here you’ll find -  pt.1 and pt.2

He’d left a key.

Scaramouche didnt make mistakes, not while he had you captive in the vicinity of his bedroom. He didnt have room for mistakes, not when you were watching his every movement while he was in your line of sight. 

Sure, he mightve killed a person or two in front of you, but those were necessary mistakes. There was a sign on the door, it specified not to enter. You’d understand that, right?

Thats what he thought at least, lulling himself into belief after belief that you’d be there waiting for him every time. That you’d welcome him with open arms, even if there were chains ensnaring your wrists. That you’d accept your fate at his hands and submit yourself to him.

The Balladeer was a fool.

He’d kept you there for too long, and while you searched for an easy way to escape, time sent your head spinning. Into a spiral that begged only for the wind against your face, back laying on dirt with the familiar chirping up birds waking you up in the morning.

You wanted to go outside.

And when push comes to shove, you had to risk a little more to make it happen. Lure him into bed with kisses while your hands unbuttoned his vest. But what he believed to be alluring contacts was just your way of finding the keys hidden in the back pocket of his shorts.

It wasnt hard to find the one to your cuffs while he was asleep, cuddled in your chest with both arms around your waist as if to get you to stay put. You took the key, hiding them back in his clothing and hoping he didnt notice.

He didnt say anything the next day.

You werent going to wait any longer.

“Oh for fucks sake, why won't the goddamn door open?”

The room was left in tatters behind you, a little gift for Scaramouche once he got back. Turns out a pair of chains can smash up a lot of things, and rage can be used as a great source of strength when contained for such a long time.

But you’d done more than throw the blankets around, cut up the drawers and smash open the windows. Because your fists had bled red when you punched through the glass, puncturing your skin. Your knuckles were an ugly red, bruising already.

Ah, Scaramouche deserved a much better gift.

Gruesome as it was, you rubbed your knuckles against the pale walls. Till the blood stopped coming, till there was a nice little message for the boy which you held so dearly to your heart.

‘Balladeer.’

The first time you’d found out about him being a harbinger he’d told you not to call him by that name. You weren’t someone he associated with by work, you were a treasure to him. That’s why you continued to call him as he pleased, although the temptation always arose.

You were no longer his.

Shoving the door with your hand again, palm fiddling with the handle and groaning when it hardly budged. “Stupid,” you grumbled when the knob began to loosen. Backing up, you charged with your shoulder to the door, full force as the momentum broke the hinges. The door fell down with you along with it.

It was expected, you’d been stuck in the room for a long time, and thats considering you’d sat on the ground for decades. Your body was slight numb, muscles sore and unused for so long. 

“You a-arent supposed to leave your room!”

A young man stood in the hallway along with a woman who looked relatively the same age. The two were wearing uniforms, flinching when you stood up from the debris and off the door. “Excuse me?” You asked, voice unnecessarily icy and stern. But you couldnt care less, you were going to get out of this house, damn anyone who stood in your way.

They both continued to shake when you walked towards them, staggering from side to side. The woman stepped up in front of the man, presenting a brave face. “If you leave the mansion, the harbinger will kill us all!”

“Well then I expect you should be on your way then. Actually…” you gestured to the maze of hallways. “You can lead the way.”

“What…?”

Your hand went limp to your side, an exasperated looking momentarily crossing your face before you sighed. “Im not staying trapped in that room, I’m sorry if that ruins your life, but frankly you're not the one stuck in there are you?” You took an extra step just to intimidate them, eyes wide to make the appearance of crazy. “It would be a great help if you showed me where he hid my vision too.”

“We can show you to the door…” The man began, “But the whereabouts of your vision are unknown, he wouldnt tell us something like that.”

A gift bestowed from the gods, a piece to help me thrive with my ambitions and pursue my goals.

Gone.

You really wished you’d taken to clawing out Scaramouche’s face instead, but you’d take what you got. Right now your main priority was getting out of this place, even if it meant leaving a piece of you behind.

“Door.” Your voice was raspy and there was a terrible feeling that crawled up to your throat, but you didnt have time to be emotional. “Show me where the door is… please.”

The conflict in their eyes dissipates by the time they lead you along, mumbling words between themselves. You didnt bother to try eavesdropping, you were so, so tired. You wanted to go home.

Anywhere. Anywhere but here.

It took a few minutes until you were standing in front of a grand door, almost twice the size of you and just as wide. You then began to notice the decorational plants and furniture that filled the empty space, there wasn't an inch of dust. Even though you could tell none of it was used.

“Hurry,” the man warned when you paused. “I dont know when our master is coming back, but if its soon, we’ll all be screwed.”

You couldnt feel your head as you numbly nodded, hand clenching the knob and flinging the set of doors open. “Thank you,” you merely mumbled, taking your first step out of the house in what felt like forever.

The days after that were a blur, the area around Scaramouche’s house were nothing but void. Empty and filled with forests and vast plains. You knew he didnt like people or socializing in general, but to this extent?

Your only option was to run.

Let your feet take you somewhere, anywhere. It was a constant pattern of running and taking breaks, leaning on a tree and gasping in a few breaths before you were again scurrying through the forest. 

And yet you felt better than you’d felt in past months that you’d been stuck with Scaramouche.

Food became any boar you came across, the claws you’d spent so long hiding with Scaramouche coming to unleash a wrath beyond your comprehension. Till the animal was cut to shreds and no meat was left even to eat. You’d slaughtered it, without intention to eat or benefit for it, you’d killed it just to kill.

“I’m sorry,” you’d sobbed into the ground where you’d buried the harmless animal. Forehead pressed into the dirt as you pleaded for forgiveness to whatever archons would accept it. You couldn't even remember what archons you were supposed to pray to. “Forgive me- forgive me…”

But eventually you found your way around to somewhere you knew. Territory of Inazuma where you could find your way back, back home.

Where was home?

You’d been on the run from the vision hunt decree, abandoning your post for the Kitsune Saiguu for such a thing. Even now that you could return without a vision and as no threat under the decree…

You’d sacrificed everything for your vision.

Where were you to go now…?

Rain patted down, the trees providing only a slight cover as stray drops fell into your matted dirty hair. You didnt mind, it hid the tears that slid down your lifeless face, feet taking you into the far meadows of your hometown. Till you plopped down underneath a tree, knees curled to your chest and arms hugging them close. You were crying.

You were home.

____________________

“Awh,” a ginger haired murmured, elbow resting on the cool wood of the tabletop. “Is little Mouchie sad? I heard your kitty cat escaped~”

A death wish, even fatui that idly minded themselves around the bar knew it. Sipping cold drinks and swirling their cups, the soft chatter was nothing but a distraction from the main course of events. That being the smaller Harbinger who sat sulking in his seat, hunched over with a drink in hand. He’d drank far more than what was on the counter, but everytime he finished a glass, he’d smash it on the ground, watching the fragile glass shatter into pieces.

“I dont have a cat,'' was his only response, tone daring Childe to pursue further. To give him a reason to start throwing the glass in his face instead.

And Childe was an idiot when it came to challenging someone.

“No cat?” The rest of the drink in the taller harbinger’s glass was gone when he threw his head back. “Hmmm, I cant think of what else could’ve had you so enraptured in returning home then~!”

Scaramouche didnt respond, uneven bangs shadowing the bags under his eyes. “Stronger,” he said instead, elbow on the counter and hand outstretched for something. When there was no movement from the man managing the wine, the harbinger looked up. “I need something stronger to drink,” he repeated, voice seething.

“Of c-course!”

The glass was nestled in Scaramouche’s palm in no time, fingers curling around the circular form to down it in seconds. The drink merely slid down his throat in one movement, alcohol burning his senses. It didn’t matter, he was numbed by the growing rage inside of him.

Finally, he turned to the ginger haired boy, eyes hazily dancing along the counter till it reached his fingertips. Up his hand and along his arm, till Scaramouche was staring right into Childe’s eyes. “They escaped,” he admitted softly. “But it’s alright, because I sent something that’ll bring them back.”

Childe paused, raising his drink up away from his lips to pose a question. Hesitation danced along his features before he brought the glass back, he’d rather not provoke the shorter male any further. Wasn’t like he could interfere anyway.

____________________

“That… that…” 

It was preposterous, having returned to that same spot for a day or two and heading back to the hometown you’d once lived in. The one Scaramouche had lived in. There shouldn’t have been an issue, you were solely gathering supplies for the sake of it, ambition driving you to travel far far away.

Out of Inazuma.

It was your new beginning, convincing yourself that you didn't need a vision. Finding some sort of purpose before Scaramouche shattered the vision and your life along with it. You’d seen how people had reacted when it had been ingrained in the statue, neutralized and broken. They lost hope, purpose and aspirations for anything new.

It’s not like the Raiden Shogun took my vision.

But you’d taken that fact for granted, expecting some sort of new start without Scaramouche. A victory, getting away from him just for a split second and getting out of Inazuma altogether, you’d never see him again.

Until you got his message.

“How the hell…” You crushed the note until it was just crumbled paper in your hand, slowly leaning on the stone wall. “Piece of shit… what kind of person even…” 

Not only did he manage to find you, but without making his presence known, he’d tugged at your one weakness with an ease that had you down on your knees.

You threw the paper to the ground, deliberate as you stared past the alleyway. Pensive as you considered your options. Damn, what options did you even have? You’d been an idiot to underestimate Scaramouche, he wasn’t a child, you knew that… but archons he seemed like one when he was with you. Shown you a vulnerability he wanted only you to see. But maybe that had been part of his plan all along, until all you believed was his soft demeanor.

He may act like a child, but he’s a harbinger.

You stared down at the crumbled piece of paper in disgust.

Not only that, but he has no regard for human life.

Either way, you’d lived decades more than him. You could face him, you would present yourself to him just as he expected you to. Even when everything in you rejected the idea, sobbed at the thought of returning to that house, those chains. Being locked up and confined only for the purpose of coddling a small boy, a selfish boy, a cruel boy. 

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

You’d figure out a way, and this time you wouldn’t rule out the option of his death.

———————

Oh darling Y/n, how have you been?

I hope this letter reaches you rather soon, we both have much to discuss, no? About me, about you, and much more. You see, I’ve taken up quite a distaste to your little friends. Stone statues in Inazuma as small as Kitsunes truly hold no purpose, what will they do, come back to life? Haha, I should think not. I’ve already arranged to have them demolished, who knows what kind of material they might possess. Ah, and of course I’d show you the finishing product, unless you’re willing to come and have a chat with me once more? Under the Sakura tree like we used to, you’ve waited years, I believe you can wait for me?

I hope this letter reaches you in best interests. I’m always looking out for you after all.

Sincerely, your Balladeer

——————

It was raining.

Beautiful weather as you lay sitting there, feet crossed and tucked in the same you’d often do. After all, there was no need to fear the vision hunt decree or the Raiden Shogun. Let them come, let them take care of you before Scaramouche did.

You werent cold, not when the cold drops dampened your clothing, slipping down the length of your spine and drenching your face. Despite having lived in a luxury residency for such a long time, this was where you were most comfortable, enduring whatever the weather had for you, taking it with a smile. Because you were waiting…

The Kitsune Saiguu was a distant memory.

You were waiting for Scaramouche, the young boy that often bound into the field in lengthy strides, childlike wonder in his eyes. The one who’d cried when the other kids pushed him away, the one that just wanted to be praised. You’d held him in your arms, and now, even knowing the results, you wouldnt have done differently.

He was just a boy.

Just a boy when he joined the fatui, looking for praise that he was given. He created chaos and bellowed orders with a cruelty that was highly looked upon. Told that he was doing well, so he continued to do so.

He’s just a boy.

You wished you’d held him in your arms, if not only for a tad longer. Shield him away from the wrongness of the world, if only for one last time.

Banishing away your hatred for him was hard.

But you found it under the tree, rain soon dimming down to a clouded cold breeze that swept through the meadow. You’d hated him while stuck in the mansion, but you could now see it from a larger point of view. What he did was wrong of course, but you could remember him so vividly now. His small form giggling, tiny arms around your neck. 

“Play with me!”

Was it your fault?

For not holding him tighter? For trying to rectify his bad doings and teach him what was wrong and right? Maybe if your grip was firmer, if you’d spoken to him about the warmth he’d given you that day when playing cards...

“Lazy ass.”

Burying down that pile of worry and insecurities, you took a deep breath in to relax. The edge of your lip perked up, only slightly. “Still terrible with your social skills arent you?”

Slowly securing a dry space under the three with you, Scaramouche sat down. His features were the same ones you’d grown accustomed to at his mansion. Rich clothes, sharp eyes, and the baby face that refused to go away. His movements were soft as he pulled out a deck of cards. The two of you didnt speak as he distributed them between you both. It was tense… no, it felt too much like the warmth form long ago to be tense. You only wished the situation to be different.

“I love you.”

But you could only offer a bitter smile to his words. “I love my vision,” you replied. “I love the Kitsune Saiguu, and I love my friends.”

His touch was gentle when his fingers came to gently cradle your cheek. Holding your face dearly as he peered into your eyes, his were soft. Different from the cruelty he held within, the hatred that burned and destruction that seeked to explode.

You saw a little boy.

Your hand came to press his hand further against your cheek, till you slid his palm to your lips. He appeared so calm when you pressed the first kiss, lips tracing the lines along his palm with all the care in the world.

But you needed to change your view, see him as the man he now was. As the man he had become.

“I love you,” he repeated, and you let go of his hand. It fell limp by his side, cards all but forgotten. There was a much more pressing matter at hand, because you truly needed to see him as he was.

It was necessary if you planned to kill him.

[ukiyokki]

mars reads too much dreamnotfound fanfiction for their own good

a dreamnotfound fanfic recommendation list by your resident dumbass (me)

this took way to fucking long... i’m tired

below is a (very extensive) list dedicated to all my favorite dnf fics, ranging from quick one shots to 100k+ word monstrosities that devour the storage on my computer, forever incomplete masterpieces to ongoing works of art, you get the idea. i provided links for each fic/series for your reading pleasure. there will be no smutty/nsfw fics on this list, that’s just not my vibe lmao. this list goes in no particular order, and i’ll update it from time to time when i feel like it. now, without further ado, let us begin.

Heat Waves (complete) by tbhyourelame

(wtf else did you expect, looking at a dnf rec list?) amazingly well written, and while it’s not my favorite dnf fic it’s damn near close. in the midst of a brutal heatwave, a suffering dream comes to terms with the fact that he is desperately in love with his best friend. everything i could say about this fic has already been said by nearly everyone who’s read it, so if you haven’t yet caved into the hype, just go for it. you won’t be disappointed.

Gonna be around (completed) by georgescatcafe

(mc irl) my favorite dnf oneshot to date. just read it, i don’t wanna spoil for you :)

Inferno in the Sky (ongoing)by zairielon

(star wars au) an ongoing star wars au currently clocking in at almost 200k words. need I say more? everything about it absolutely slaps, each chapter is amazingly written, and it’s just good. also, can we just appreciate dream and tubbos dynamic in here? 10/10, amazing, must protecc. oh right, a summary: george, an exiled padawan turned engineer, must return to the jedi temple after attacks on it from an unknown assailant threaten the safety of himself and the other jedi.

Like Magic (ongoing) by KangarooKen, NotGra55 (Gra55)

(harry potter au) the unofficial official dnf harry potter au. we watch the young unlikely wizard pair grow up together throughout their years at hogwarts as they battle good old fashioned wizard racism. beautifully written, incredibly fun and suspenseful, and just an overall blast and a half.

GeorgeNotFound, Son of Poseidon, and the League of Minor Gods (ongoing) by Clichewho_69, Cygnvs, Trash_Kinggg

(percy jackson au) percy jackson au? check. “road trip” (technically quest but u get what i mean)? check. enemies to friends to lovers? check. this fic follows the plot of the lightning theif (albeit loosely), but everything is explained enough where you don’t have to read percy jackson to understand what’s going on. basically after moving to the usa, george gets taken to camp halfblood where he learns that a) gods exist. b) he’s the son of poseidon and c) he needs to prove that he didn’t steal zeus’s master bolt.

Protected (completed) by aenqua

(royalty/camelot au) my favorite piece of dnf media of all time. dubbed the official dnf camelot au, where dream is the heir to the throne and george is a servants son with a secret that couldp get him killed. these childhood friends grow up together and learn trust, love, and acceptance. (that summary did not justice to the masterpiece that is this fic) here’s the directors cut

The Hunter (completed) by HederEgo

(mc irl) a choose your own adventure fic with 13 different endings, where dream the hunter must kill george and stop him from beater the ender dragon. enough said.

The official dream team cowboy AU (series)(ongoing) by antsu_in_my_pantsu

(cowboy au) cowboys and outlaws horses and shit. and the big gay. it’s a cowboy au, what else did you expect? fucking yee haw (all seriousness this is a great read, i loved it so so so so much and i can’t wait for the final chapter to release).

This is a Drista moment, let's just accept it (completed) by Qekyo

dnf fic from drista pov. considering its unique perspective, it’s perfectly done. beautifully showcases a sibling relationship through drista and her memories/moments with dream, and it just works, y’a know? also drista supremacy.

Dear Dream (completed) by Qekyo

(wwii au) i don’t cry when watching/reading anything sad. translation: i’m a heartless bitch. however, this fic is the only exception. it caused me to cry so hard my mom walked in my room and asked if i was ok. ‘nuff said.

TECHNOlogical Wingman (completed) by Closeted_Bookworm

techno is the autocorrect ai on dreams phone, and he gains sentience. interesting concept, and the author fucking nailed it. great fic.

It Was Only a Fic (ongoing) by imagineitdear

dream starts reading a dnf fanfic (we’ve all been there buddy).

Teacher’s Pet (ongoing) by niyuha

(teacher au) in which dream is a high school english teacher and george is the new comp sci teacher in room 297.

Saltwater Secrets (ongoing) by earlgay_milktea

(mermaid/high school au) a great example of the shear amount of variety in fics this fandom has to offer. when i started reading dnf fics i would have never thought i’d find one about a mermaid george hopelessly crushing on his human friend, who happens to be his schools star swimmer. yet here i am, and i am far from disappointed.

Smash My Heart (incomplete) by dontrollthedice

george and sapnap are commentators for duper smash brothers tournaments, and george develops a crush on an up and coming smash streamer named dream.

roleplaying in the dark is harder than it seems (completed) by Alienu

laser tag. 10/10

solar system (completed) by quartzfia

(mc irl) george vists dream in pandora’s vault.

Ramblings of a Lunatic (completed) by jungkooksfic

ahh communicating through a notebook left on a shelf in a bookstore- what a perfect way to start a relationship.

Paint me like your French Girls (It's Charcoal, Actually) (completed) by Turtle_ier

(artist au) george is an art student, and dream is a model.

00:00:00 (completed) by isleofdreams

(soulmate au) 00:00:00 is the moment you meet your soulmate, as indicated but the clock ticking down on your wrist until the moment you meet. i’m not a fan of soulmate aus; this fic is the exception.

Blue Skies Smilin' At Me (completed) by kivy

(artist au) i don’t usually cry while reading stuff, but this brought me damn near close. george is a painting conservator and chats it is with the ghost of the artist if the painting he is working on. they fall in a love.

Current Location (incomplete) by hendollana

(influencer au) george simps for a hot american instagram model. who knew he’d actually follow back?

The Withering (series) (series ongoing, 1 work completed) by App1e_Juice

(mc irl) lore and world building and fight scenes and everything i crave. what’s not to love? something starts making the plants and crops around dreams village wither, and must team up with new friends to find the cause of the mysterious disease plaguing the land.

Minecraft, But You Can't Leave (complete) by facadecake

(mc irl) dream and george are sucked into their own private minecraft world together and must beat the game to escape.

Free The Game, Beat the End (incomplete) by goatgoatwasfound

(mc irl) a glitch in minecraft causes thousands of players from around the world to be trapped inside minecraft, with only one way of escape- beating the ender dragon. first dnf fic i ever read, and it’s still 10/10 for me.

Why don't you come a little closer? (completed) by lifeofandoms

george gets stood up by a date, and Dream pretends he’s the date to save george from the embarrassment. simply adorable.

lightning bug (completed) by saintachesP

(band au) while on tour, dream realizes his feeling for george.

Hold me closer (completed) by Treesofmyheart

(mc irl/dsmp) i just,, really like this trope.

Dizzy on caffeine (completed) by GleamingGreenGoggles

(coffee shop au) best dnf coffeeshop au i’ve read. periodt.

living a life of crime isn’t always easy (series) (completed) by itisjosh

(mafia/assassin au) stockholm syndrome except it’s not weird.

Inhibitions Make Interesting Situations (completed) by Ship_On_The_Sea

i pissed myself laughing. it’s just a dream and george being hilariously dense, flustered idiots. serotonin central.

thy eternal summer shall not fade (completed) by gracequills

(high school au) that moment when you recite shakespeare to your crush in your ap lit class instead of confessing (hate it when that happens).

All is Fair in love and Football (ongoing) by graciegirl2001

(college au) #1 favorite college au. in which george is a cheerleader, and dream is the football teams rising star player. this one gets extra points because of the amazing karlnap moments sprinkled throughout. *chefs kisses air*

online love (completed) by andbutso

(high school au) online classes go zoooooooom

Can’t help falling (completed) by isleofdreams

dream re-learns the guitar to sing to george on his birthday. beautiful. fluffy. amazing

dance in the rain and my arms (completed) by lazy_kitkat

george is a rain god, and dream is a wind god

Weather Boy (completed) by DaintyDiizzle

wouldn't you like to know, weather boy? (where dream can control the rain)

The color orange (completed) by anon

(mc irl) dream describes the colors of a sunset

Family Mode (completed)by Strawberry_flavoured_tears

they’re dads :,)

Breathing Room (incomplete) by papercranes

(band an) an amazing band au. the mad lad author wrote original songs for each chapter. above and beyond, mad props :). unfortunately, it’s incomplete

Piece of Clay (completed) by carbonbrine

(artist au) george is a sculptor and his sculpture comes to life- but oh no he’s hot.

Try (completed) by Not4typicalwriter

(royalty au) george must choose a suitor, but none of them are up to dream, his head knights, standards. or dream is hella jelly. also protective dream is perfect

When the Roses Bloom (completed) by HederEgo

(royalty au) close second for my favorite fic. go to royalty au for a quick serotonin bost. it’s all fluff and flowers and crushes, and i love it. criminally underrated.

Heavenstruck (ongoing) by dontrollthedice

george is dreams guardian angel, and dream want to find out more about him and his past life. bittersweet :,)

Bang and Burn (completed) by App1e_Juice

(spy au) george accidentally falls for target number 1 on sapnap’s secret agency’s hit list. this ones great, i love me a spy au :)

Can I get a uhh… (completed) by lemonskies

dream keeps pulling up to the drive through mcdonald’s that george works at drunk.

Pretty Stranger (completed) by anon

when looking for dream in the terminal, george sees a cute guy and decides to flirt.

Take my Hand (completed) by latinbias

(royalty au) another royalty au? poggers. surprise twists? double poggers. love this a lot.

seconds, minutes, hours, lifetimes (complete) by meridies

ROAD TRIP ROAD TRIP ROAD TRIP ROAD TRIP *inhales to compose herself* roadtrip au. unrequited love, ignored feelings, longing, pining, you know the drill. absolutely love this one, its the best roadtrip au i have ever read, in any fandom. (maybe cause i identify with it a little too much, but thats not important. whats important is that you read this fic. right now. im waiting).

Message redacted (complete) by justyouraverageloser

(text fic) dream asks for a girls number and realises hes been given the wrong number. however, an unexpected relationship starts to form between him and the stranger on the other end of the line.

the waves (completed) by anon

(mc irl) this fic was written by the same anon who wrote the color orange, which is up there on my fav dnf oneshot list. dream and george know they have a higher purpose. they don’t know where they came from, or why they are seemingly the only humans in the world, or how they feel about eachother, or even where the skeletons come from, but they are sure of one thing: they have to beat a dragon.

The Dream Doll (completed) by PeppDream (Pep_Pizza)

(voodoo i guess) i’m a real big fan of fics with really out there or unique concepts, so naturally this one makes the cut! i really liked it, it’s really sweet and made me think a lot about what matters to me in the world. george finds a strange doll in an antique shop, and would really like to just stuff it in a drawer and forget about it. sadly (?), the doll has other plans.

last updated February 6th, 2021

[slasherrabbitmadness]

Victorian DILF Brahms x Female Reader

Series: Don't forget who you belong to.

Chapter 2 - Give me your answer, do

Underthecut - NSFW, Male Masturbation, Oral - Male Receiving.

Brahms sat idly in his living room, leaning back in his large leather recliner. Feet shuffling along the Egyptian carpet, thumbs twiddling as he hums Daisy Bell by Harry Dacre,

"I'm half crazy, all for the love of you." He smiles as he thinks of her. How her hair shines in the sun, like a halo above her head. Her eyes sparkling whenever she laughs, how the corner of her eyes crinkles ever so slightly. How her smile makes his heart skip a beat.

Brahms sucks in a breath, his hum-singing continues, "There are bright lights the dazzling eyes of beautiful Daisy Bell." He sits up straight, eyes on the unlit fireplace, the gold gate held an ornate Chinese dog welded on the front. He looks above the fireplace to the mantel, the rows of photos in their ash wood frames.

His face is stern as he glances at a particular photo. He, a half-smile as his hand rests on his son's shoulder. Lawrence when he was a boy of eight. Lawrence's other shoulder had a delicate white hand upon it. Gerti, her lips dark with her favourite shade of lipstick, her slight freckles littered her face, her silky blonde hair up in a beautiful age-appropriate bun.

His hum-singing fades as he continues to stare, the family photo, the family in the photo appearing as sharp and elegant as their social standing. That day, Gerti had scolded him all morning, her eyes wide and glossy, her alabaster skin held a blue and yellow hue under her eyes. Her fingers were cold and clammy.

"For the love of everything, Brahms, hurry for once." Brahms flinches as he can still hear her screeching, "Lawrence, get the cat's paw out of your mouth and stop pulling its tail!" He chuckles,

"I miss that cat," Brahms laughs to himself. Never one for pets but how that scraggly little beast could make his son laugh in the most jovial way, warmed him greatly.

His amused grin falls as his eyes lock with Gerti's. Grabbing the photo, his thumb ghosts over her image, remembering how once soft her skin was. His stomach churns as a chill seeps into his bones, shaking him in his spot.

He places the family photo back on the mantle, right next to a photo of her. Her hands grasping each other, face tilted slightly, a timid smile upon her face. "Sir, I don't need my photo taken!"

"Y/n, as my employee of a year, you are practically family." Brahms let out a shaky breath as his mind replays the conversation. "And you may call me, Brahms. You address Gerti by her full name."

"Gerti and are intimate in ways that have allowed us to be close."

"Pray tell may I watch these intimate moments?" His cheeky reply had cost him an ear full from his wife when she had found out. Brahms still never understood why women used such charged words to describe a close friendship.

Brahms left the living room, a stirring in his gut had him heave. He wanted to call upon her for aid, 'Fetch me a water with some ice, and actually bring some black tea and one of our lemons from Italy.' he clears his throat at the thought of dryness being washed back by the cold refreshment.

He had given her a few hours a week for personal time. Free to be spent however she pleased. Ever since the death of his wife and Lawerence attending Rugby School for Boys she had more free time. Much to Brahms immense displeasure.

Brahms had taken to stalking her on her days off. Wanted to see what she got up to. Where she went and specifically with who. He would linger twenty feet behind, always darting behind stalls and other tall men to hide, he even took to wearing a coat that he kept hidden in hopes she would not recognize him further.

He stared in amazement at how well she helped an old lady onto the trolley all the while juggling her belongings, refusing a 'tip' "It's the nice thing to do." in reference to helping others.

His cheeks flushed whenever she stopped to smell the flowers, literally. A quaint smile as she turned down the offer for a free one from the vendor. She often stopped to sniff the white and yellow flowers. He had noticed Daisys were her favorite.

He seethed when one day you were stopped by a handsome Youngman, his tall lean frame stood confidently as his dark brown eyes held a softness as they looked down at you. He had overheard the name in a distinctly American accent, "Dan, yeah I'm studying medicine with my colleague, I'd introduce you but..." He hated that you always walked near the campus, hated all the young men eager, too eager to chat up a single young lady.

Dan had never gotten farther than chaste conversations and one quick feather-light kiss on her cheek.

Brahms wondered if he should up and move, just to be a little further away from the university, away from the young men, away from one of them stealing her away. She was his, he had just yet to convince her. Ask her, even bring it up in any conceivable way.

One occasion made the blood sear in his veins. He should have been more away, should have been more vigilant of this Dan fellow. He watched from a distance as Dan rounded the corner and collided with her. His tall body fell over hers, his hand had just managed to catch the back of her head, softening to the blow to the ground.

"Oh, God! I am so sorry!" Dan's eyes wide in shock, "Oh, I'm so sorry."

She laughed, "No, no, it's fine," Brahms gritted his teeth.

"No, it's not." Dan pulled himself and her up, his hand holding her in a firm grasp. "I am so sorry." He scratched the back of his head, his expression doleful.

"Accidents happen." She assured, grabbing his hand still wrapped around hers. " It's okay Dan."

"You remember me!" Dan's brown eyes lit up. A Radiant smile over his face as he stepped closer to her.

Brahms seethed as the scene played out before him. She smiled, he smiled. She laughed, he laughed. The words between the two began to fall effortlessly between them both.

He watched despondently. How she could let herself relax so easily in another man's presence. How her demeanor shifted around Dan. Those stiff shoulders eased themselves as Dan placed his hand on her shoulder and winked.

Brahms cursed, the university's chapel bell rang out. Every thunderous clang shot through Brahms. Every clang was a reminder he had another place to be. The dreaded desk in the dreaded little corner of his office.

He turned one last time, eyes watched as she smiled with a warmth he'd never seen, how she leaned into Dan as his smile shined bright.

Brahms walks up to his maid's room, thanking Gerti for installing a sense of comfort in Y/N as to never locking the door.

He jiggles the door handle, "Hm..." Again, "Weird," his eyes narrow, "Bloody thing is locked." He jostles the handle, "Bloody woman..."

Click

"Ah, there we are." He hums in approval as the door creaks open. Forever grateful for the previous owner teaching him how to easily unlock a door in the house without a key "Rickety ol' tings" Brahms mocked the man's heavy accent.

He inhales as he enters her room. The simple little abode warmed his heart. Her bed and the nightgown left upon it stirred his loins. He walks to the bed, grabs the nightgown, bringing it to his nose, he growls as he inhales, her natural scent lingered on the garment.

Brahms holds the garment in his teeth as he shucks off his pants, freeing his painfully erect cock. The thoughts whirl in his mind as he plops onto her bed, sighing with content as he sinks down into the mattress and a sneer as he grips his cock.

The same bed she slept, where when the night calls for it, he knew she'd sleep naked. "Fuck..." He growls through the nightgown, ripping it from his mouth to place it over his chest. Her bed, her bed where she no doubt has touched herself, even if briefly in a beautiful sinful manner.

Does she shy away as she dipped those delicate little fingers into her dripping pussy? Does she bite her cheek to stifle her pitchy moans when that jolt of pleasure shot through her?

Brahms collects some spit in his large hand, sucking in a breath as his cold spit touches his cock. His hand pumps eagerly around his thick member, a low groan as the image of her crawling up to him floods his mind. He sighs as he pictures it as her hand gripping him, gasping at how large it is,

"Brahms, my fingers can't even wrap around it!"

"That's okay, love, use those pretty little lips and that wet little tongue to help you."

"What if my make-up smears?"

"Oh, love, that's what I want." Brahms throws his head back, thumb circling his swollen head, picturing it as her delicate wet little tongue. He grips himself harder as he swears he can feel her lips wrap around his cock.

His low groans and breathy moans fill her little room, her name falling from his lips, "So beautiful, Y/N. My love, so perfect, mhm, yes, further down your throat, moaning around it."

Brahms breathing hitches as he pictures her, clawing at his chest as tears prick the corner of her eyes, "I'm a little nervous," She says as she rubs her glistening pussy, inches over his leaking cock.

"You got this, my love." Brahms keens,

"Will it fit, Brahms?..." She bites her lip, a hand groping her beautiful chest.

"My love, just relax, I have you." He pictures gripping her hip to ease her down onto him, gripping his cock as he imagines her warm pussy gripping him.

Audible slaps from the fisting of his cock, mixing with his now desperate pleas and moans fill her room. She's on top of him, her chest flushed against his, she's commenting on how she loves the feel of his hairy chest, praised-filled moans as she comments on his pecs flexing under her.

Brahms bucks his hips into his hand, "Hold you close." He moans as he pictures rolling on top of her, her legs wrapping around his lower half, arms pulling him in close, whispering in his ear,

"Brahms cum in me, cum in me, make me yours." He grips squeeze around his cock, imaging it's her pussy clenching around him, "I love you, Brahms."

He hisses as his body shakes, muscles flexing, toes curling as he snarls out his release. The image of her accepting his seed sends heat washing over him. His cock pulses in his grip, his cum spraying over her nightgown, the remaining spilling down his fingers and cock.

His temples pulse, his ears ringing. His toes unfurling as his legs ceased in their shakes. He squeezes his cock a few more times, hearing her breathlessly thanking him, "It's so warm in me. Thank you, Brahms." He swears he can feel her nuzzling into his chest as if she was there.

Brahms coughs as he sits up, shaking his head as he gingerly throws his legs over the side, placing his feet on the door. The nightgown falls over his cock. He snorts, using it to clean himself. He stands up, placing the nightgown where he had found it. A wicked and mischievous grin spreads over his face at the thought of her wearing his spent at night.

He grunts as he retrieves his trousers, pulling them up in haste, tucking his chub back in. A content sigh as he eyes the bed and nightgown. She wouldn't be sleeping alone for much longer.

Brahms snaps his attention to the trill of his front doorbell. He clicks his tongue as he makes haste to the door. He debates on if he has time to properly clean his hand, decides to just wear a fancy white-glove he leaves, conveniently, near the front door instead.

"Coming! My Maid is out currently," He sucks in a breath as he pulls a glove over his right hand, he cocks his head quickly before opening the door. "Sorry, it'd have been answered sooner...who are you?"

Brahms stared down at the short man before him. His brown hair combed expertly to the side, his brows immaculate under his thick glasses. He wore a glowering expression, his lips in a tight line.

The man clears his throat, "Herbert, Herbert West." Brahms makes note of his American accent, "I believe this paper is for the lady of this residence." Herbert whips the paper in front of him, his expression changing to say "Well, hurry and take it!"

"Mr. West."

"Herbert."

"Herbert, If by Lady you mean, Gerti? She passed awa-"

"I don't mean your dead wife."

Brahms's eyes narrow at Herbert. He opens his mouth the speak.

"I mean, Y/n. She is the only lady living here. So Dan tells me."

Brahms's jaw slackens, "Dan." He says more to himself.

"Yes, it's an invitation to a formal at the university. He already invited her. Just wanted to make sure she got all the details, it's all there on the paper." Herbert whips it again in front of Brahms.

Brahms yanks the paper from Herbert, eyes scanning it wildly.

University of London

Residents of Handel Mansions we formally invite you to bring along the most beautiful dame for the start of our fall formal.

September 28th, 1900

Entrance fee 1 pound, with a beautiful dame on your arm the fee is waved.

Brahms stares back at Herbert who pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, "Well," Herbert begins, "I figured be best to drop it off for Dan. He's been awfully busy." He flashes a smile to Brahms as he turns, "Dan also says to let Y/n know he wishes her luck at her new job on Robitaille's farm." He turns back around to Brahms, "Oh, it was nice meeting you, Mr.?"

Brahms pauses, clearing his throat, "Brahms Heelshire."

Herbert clicks his tongue, "I knew that." He walks down the stairs, a pep in his step, "Was nice meeting you Mr. Heelshire."

Brahms stares at the short man walking away, nodding to a man walking past. He turns back around, slamming the door behind in, the frame shook.

He stares down at the paper, eyes reading it over and over again. "A formal." He starts, "That Dan..." His breath catches in his chest, "A job?" he questions aloud.

He collapses against his door, slumping over as he crunches the paper in his hands. His thoughts raced to her, cursing himself for not intervening that day she ran into Dan. Wishing he just took the reprimand from his employer and raced in to shove Dan away from you. Creating some fantastical lie as to why he was suddenly there.

Brahms's thoughts slip to his son. Lawrence, his green eyes shine whenever he and Y/n play. He hugs her like he did his mother. How y/n always promises to play with him, tuck him at night. How were you going to tuck him in if you were to be away? How were you going to be there to kiss his little cheek as he falls asleep?

"How are you going to be there for me?"