#down a path of darkness of sorts. fun times

[sil3ntm0thart]

[abysswalkerastraea1]

Concurrent Resurgence

A staggering impossibility had occurred on the night of your death. And now, reborn and unhinged; bound to that creature they call the Miles County Clown, you'd witness first-hand just how far your depravity could go.

17k words

Size kink

Art is so dominant I needed an outlet to express this

A staggering impossibility had occurred on the night of your death. Just like any regular woman, you screamed and cried and ran from the miles county killer, in a state of frenzy and terror up until the very end.

Your life hung on the precipice as you lay upon the ground, torn open from the midsection and gasping on wet breaths, watching that demonic clown hunker down low, leaning over your friend Vicky as he devoured her face.

You remembered the world becoming dimmer and dimmer, wondering when you'd be devoured next, hoping to God you'd die first so that you didn't have to feel the excruciating pain Vicky had.

Your wish had been granted mercifully, the sound of police sirens and shouting fading out as you heard the final cacophony of a gunshot, and then your world turned black.

Lying as a bloodied corpse in the morgue, you didn't expect to open yours eyes ever again, life beating steadily throughout you even as something dark and heavy like lead anchored you boundlessly to miles county.

You came to the conclusion that you and Art miraculously died at the same time, yours from your injuries while his was from a gunshot to the head. You both breathed your last breath, and now you were both alive.

It was as though his dying soul had latched onto your corpse, a shard of it replenishing what should have been dead and burdening you with rot, decay and evil.

Art had tried to kill you on many occasions since then. He was pleasantly surprised at seeing you whole again, grinning and waving jovially, eager to murder you all over again, only..

You couldn't die, it was as though you were both the oxygen and the blood that keeps one another alive; if one dies, so does the other.

It took some back and forth, cat and mouse antics to learn this. He'd try and catch you, gripping you by the hair with a mallet in the other hand, bringing it down in a devastating blow. You think he realised something had changed when you caught his wrist with an incredible strength you never used to possess and forced his head through a break wall.

Art had given you something, and he cursed you because he knew he could never get it back.

You were two halves of the same coin, polar opposites and yet vastly similar now. Humanity remained within you, somewhere, but your emotions became dim, your morals deathly low, and evil began festering.

You became violent. Explosive, uncharacteristically wrathful. It didn't feel wrong, either. It felt good, and the effort it took not to absolutely maim someone was immeasurable.

Still, humanity lingered in certain things you did, and especially the way you processed emotions, even if they were as muddled as dirty water.

You and Arts lives were intertwined now, and although he had eventually gotten over the fact that he couldn't kill you, you saw him more often than you liked, your meetings often tedious and full of hate.

For the most part, him seeing you often resulted in the biggest, most dramatic eye roll you had ever witnessed, his middle finger sticking right up at you. He didn't find you fun anymore; you were as immortal as him, and that meant you were untouchable, as was he.

You don't know if it was coincidence or some sort of fucked up connection that made you cross paths so often. It made sense, considering a part of him lived within you.

And just like always, Art was there to make everything worse.

For the longest time you tried avidly to enter civilisation again, whether that be from trying to get a decent job, to going to parties and attempting to make friends, or even just simple things like getting your hair done and a manicure.

Half of you wanted your humanity to be in complete control again, enjoying the freedom of joy and life. The other half began condemning regular humans, wanting to be forcefully ostracised from society and it's confinement.

Parties didn't help. On your list of things that did help, partying was the absolute rock bottom. Your alcohol tolerance was still horrifically low, and your ire and hate for the people around you jumped tenfold.

So, all that would really happen is you'd try as politely as possible to make friends at a party, get rejected, and savagely smash their heads into nearby picture frames. Or whatever happened to decorate the wall.

You'd then drink, alone, and become devastatingly drunk. And of course each and every time, Art would find a spare minute or two to observe you once you made your horrible walk of shame home, appearing from the darkness just to point and laugh at you and buckle over.

With your newfound strength and wrath, this often led to fights with you being the instigator.

Bottle in hand, you smashed it into the clowns face viciously, watching his expression turn to one of dramatic shock as he fell backwards from the force, your drunk self falling with him.

You were so intoxicated that once you hit his body you could hardly stand back up. Head laid against his shoulder awkwardly, you groaned and tried to ground yourself with a hand against his chest, collapsing with your feeble attempts.

You winced as your face made contact with the floor all of a sudden, Art having pushed you off roughly with a grimace.

Art knew he couldn't kill you, but he could break your ribs for good measure, grinning at the sickening crack of his boot ramming into your side. It caused you to vomit and go unconscious.

You woke up the next day in broad daylight, laying in the piss stained alleyway littered with rats. Chunks of your vomit and dirt spelling out 'Whore' across your forehead.

Since then, you and Art had toned down your rivalry somewhat, no longer fighting like cat and dog every other night, viciously finding ways to carve each other up.

You avoided each other for the most part. On occasion Art would seek you out just to be an asshole, slicing your cheek with a scalpel just after you'd finished doing your makeup, which infuriated you. Or after having your hair freshly done, he'd smear questionable substances all over it.

You had gotten so angry at that, that you'd went to his rotten workplace and tore half of it down before he managed to stop you.

Art - having realised the repercussions of having an enemy that he could not kill, that would be around with him forever and that would ruin his artisan-level work - certainly toned down his pestering.

You didn't see sight of him for a month after that. Let the asshole cry and lick his wounds, you had thought joyfully.

And now, he breaks into your home like it was his own, eating from your fridge and using your shower. You detested it at the beginning, throwing fully fledged tantrums at the fact that no matter what, you could not kill him. And hurting him too badly would in turn hurt you.

It was something you came to accept. After almost a year of fighting and stubbornness, you both began to yield, realising a stalemate when you saw one.

Art no longer smeared literal shit in your hair and you no longer broke his weapons. Seemed fair.

On the two year mark, Art frequented your home even more. Probably because it had everything he needed, and it had gotten to the point that you didn't even bat an eye at him. You'd still fight, where he'd end up laughing and mocking you and you'd end up furiously screaming at him, but it never really escalated from there.

Physical confrontation did happen rarely, but nothing..drastic. That shard of him within you had made you struggle to control your anger even after two years.

And then other times you sat silently on your settee, blanket drawn up to your chin as you watched a horror film alone. Just like every night, Art would come in and ignore you, but sometimes he'd be curious as to what you were doing, and flop down beside you far too casually.

You'd spare him a neutral glance, carelessly throwing the end of your large blanket at him. He'd excitedly accept it. He viewed it as one of your ritualistic customs when watching something you deemed as scary. Him accepting the blanket meant he was curious to know just what this 'terrifying' movie was about.

"Okay so, they can't find the key to unchain themselves to escape, so that guy has to saw his leg off.", you elaborated quickly, watching the scene unfold.

It wasn't your favourite film but it was on TV at the moment. Art folded his arms, watching patiently as the story proceeded. Your attention eventually faltered as a text message came through.

You responded promptly before putting your phone down. Then, another came through, and another, and you'd giggle to yourself quietly, typing. Art lolled his head back and to the side, watchful. You never really used that device anymore, he wondered what it was that gripped you so much.

He didn't have to wonder much longer as he ripped your phone from your hands and darted up, standing to his full height as he swiftly perused the text messages.

You jumped up after him, reaching a hand up to grab at him only for him to lift the phone above his head, gaze staring up to read them.

"Give me my phone now! I swear to God Art I'll fucking--", the rest of your complaining fell on deaf ears. Art rolled his eyes, all you ever did was pull tantrums and shout. And you never shut up, prattling on about one thing or another, screaming profanities and empty threats that Art didn't even deign to laugh at anymore, that's how common they were.

Eyes scanning the messages, a grin began to grow on his face, until full fledged laughter erupted silently. You seethed at him, clawing at his hands to try and grab it. Art eventually gave in, rolling his eyes at your continued threats, putting a hand against your shoulder and roughly shoving you away, phone thrown into your lap as you fell against the settee.

Before he left, Art turned back with his horn held between his legs obscenely, stroking it with a surprised face, eyebrows high and lips forming an 'o' shape.

You glared at him, but couldn't deny the way your cheeks reddened as his stroking got faster and his eyes rolled back in mock euphoria. You folded your arms and shrugged; you had nothing to say to that. Yes you were sexting some random guy and yes you wanted some dick.

Art tipped his hat with a dead expression, his mimicry representing a gentlemanly 'farewell and adieu', and his expression reading 'desperate whore'.

Before he finally departed, Art held up a scissors in one hand and a pliers in the other. He snipped them sassily, threateningly, grinning all the while.

"Yeah, well, if he's shit you're more than welcome to use them on him." You assured, and you meant it too. This guy seemed a little odd anyway, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

Art seemed pleasantly happy with that, giving you a thumbs up with his back turned as he left the house in his Santa getup.

It was probably because you were overly horny, but...

No, you shook your head. Now is not the time to think of him like that. Honestly, you were getting more depraved every week.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You don't know what you were expecting, but it was.. anticlimactic.

You had become so sinful since your rebirth, average sex no longer doing it for you. The first guy was okay, an asshole, but okay. You tried so hard to be pleasant and normal but frustration and an unhinged desire coursed through you desperately.

It wasn't as though his dick wasn't to your liking, he was just so average and fucking human that you didn't even manage to get to the part that you desperately craved, your disgust evident.

Anyway, he seemed to think you had a bad attitude - you did - which led to arguing. You were not backing down and neither was he.

Raised voices turned into insults, both of you storming out of your bedroom and down the stairs as you reigned your anger in and told him to get out.

You could see Art from the front door, he must've came home at some point, focus taken from the TV as he watched you both scream at each other, boots propped up on your fucking coffee table which you told him not to do so many times-

And then your cheek was turning as this assholes hand met the side of your face.

You could feel your teeth clenching. Your face remained stoic, eyes burning with fury. You could see Art chuckling cruelly in the background, shoulders moving silently, incredibly invested in how this is going to play out.

It was only then did the asshole seem to notice a flash of black and white in the background, turning with an ugly scowl to the clown who now suddenly stood with a large smile, hands clenching and unclenching in anticipation.

He faltered, mild confusion and anger still evident in his scowl. An angry finger pointed in the clowns direction. "Who the fuck is that? You got a queue lining up after me, honey?" He spat the vile words at you, acidic and full of disgust.

You didn't have a chance to respond, lips quirking in mild amusement and eyes smouldered like a fiery, dark pit. The man scoffed, rolling his eyes at the demonic clown, before gazing back down at you with his lips snarling enough to bare his teeth.

"I knew there was something off about you, you fucking slut. Too proud to put out and, let's be honest," the man gave you a slow, disgusting once over, "not much to look at."

Something in you snapped, but all that came out was a gentle, breathy laugh, your eyes shining and dancing with a peculiar emotion. You wonder what it reflected. Judging by the way Art tilted his head from afar, assessing, before beginning to chuckle to himself even more, it must've been something ominous.

"What the fuck are you laughing at, asshole? Want me to come over there and give you something to really laugh at?!" The man roared at Art from across the room, utterly furious, fists clenched until the knuckles turned white.

Art began pointing and laughing now, wide eyed and crazed as he nodded vigorously as though to say 'please do!'

Before he could, you gripped his arm gently; your expression depicted a mocking sense of disappointment. "I've ruined your night, and wasted all of your precious time." You huffed, throwing your hands up in the air in defeat for him, indignant at yourself. "And like you said, I'm really not looking my best, am I? I apologize.", you smiled sweetly up at him, eyes squinted almost cutely.

The man paused at your admittance, evidently not used to any woman ever agreeing with him. He relaxed somewhat, nodding to himself as though to say yes, you are the problem, not him.

Arts dark eyes bored into your form, entranced, unsmiling, deadly.

"I'll make it up to you."

Your smile spread eerily wide, slow and deliberate and full of glee, frozen on your face. There was something ominous about you, mouth spread so far it looked as though you were doing a poor imitation of how a human should smile. It was too wide, too happy, unnatural. Slowly, you made your way to the kitchen.

The man appeared shocked and faltered, squinting at you as though to decipher what's going on. It felt like his eyes deceived him, searching desperately. Did he hear wrong? Did he miss something? Turning back towards the clown for some semblance of an answer, he seemed to have vanished. There was no trace of him ever being there, and there was no sound.

All was too silent, too calm, and it made his nerves stand on end, unsure, horrifically uncertain about everything he had just witnessed. He needed to leave.

The man tensed, back stepping at the sudden eeriness. It was so quiet, in fact, that part of his mind doubted that he had ever spoken to someone in the first place. Shaking his head, he turned to leave. There had to be a logical explanation for all of this. Without another thought, he turned and made his way to the front door.

If not that, then the knife embedded in his back surely did.

His keys suddenly dropped to the floor from his hand. The sound was loud, and would probably shock anyone out of a daydream.

Though, a second later, the horrific cry that surely tore his vocal chords was loud enough to make it evidently clear that this was all very real.

The life that had been temporarily drained from the house now sprung to life viciously, all at once.

Gripping a fistful of his hair, you dragged him roughly through your living room, kicking him so hard in the chest he convulsed, air struggling to enter his wheezing lungs. Blood covered his chin, eyes wide and unable to comprehend these sudden events; Questions swirled in his horrified orbs.

Lips curling in disgust, you jumped on top of him and began violently beating him. The man struggled hard, trying to buck you off of him and attack you back but to no avail. You were as immovable as a wall, face stoic and nonchalant as the man flailed back and forth, desperate to escape.

His eyes were wide, terrified, blood pouring down his face. In a flash, you held his fist tightly, catching it before it could make contact with you. You began to chuckle, mirth dancing in your irises, squeezing so hard you could feel the bone snapping.

It wasn't normal, this level of power, but it felt so beautifully natural to you, something dark and radiantly evil crying out in glory at your actions, delightfully satisfied.

He roared in pain, tears involuntarily streaming down his face, hand mangled and deranged looking as he cradled it to his chest. He shuddered violently, eyes wild in horror. "What the fuck are you?!"

"Me?", you thought aloud softly, bloody hand to your chin contemplatively as you stared up at Art, who was so suddenly by your side that it made the man flinch and choke on his breath in fright.

"I'm a..slut, right? That's the word you used?" You looked at the man for confirmation, who shook his head swiftly in regret, face contorting miserably as he realized his grave error. He began to sob.

You gazed up at Art, who was clenching his hands rhythmically again, laughter shaking his shoulders. There was more than satisfaction at watching this asshole get beaten; almost a hidden connection of evil sparking between you both. He was corrupting you, but you yourself made these choices. You, avidly, enjoyed this outcome.

"Is that right, Art? He said slut, didn't he?", you hummed in thought, scratching your head for an answer. Your crimson hands dyed your hair a terrifying red as you curled a lock thoughtfully between your fingers.

Art nodded slowly, unable to take his eyes off the way your blue orbs became corrupted, like sediment contaminating a clear pool. They shined as black as his now.

"It's funny," you began with a dreamy sigh, eyelashes fluttering back down at the miserable sight below you. The whites of your eyes appeared disturbingly bloodshot. "For being such a slut, I haven't managed to get a good look at you yet. We didn't get too far earlier, did we?"

The man below you was hyper ventilating now, shaking his head furiously, knowing and fearing where this was going. His mangled hand joined the other in what looked like to be a feeble prayer, chest rising and falling rapidly. "I-Im sorry! Youre not a slut, you're--youre stunning and I'm so, so fucking sorry--"

Your act dropped then, eyes dead and void. A sense of dread hung heavy in the air for this man; There was no way out, and no amount of pleading would change that. You lifted your knife carelessly in the air, twirling the weapon hauntingly. The look the man gave you would stay in your memory for a while, it was full of pure, unadulterated terror.

You brought the knife down, slicing in his groin. The man screamed so loud you thought his vocal chords had torn. Blood pooled around you, soaked you, bathed you in a pretty crimson to match your nails.

Art was a hysterical mess, hunched over and pointing and laughing, miming a condescending, fake sobbing at the pathetic man. He held a sinister mirth in his eyes, absolutely buckled.

Grotesquely, you dug your hands into the gaping wound you had made in the man's genitals, rummaging around with the sounds of squelching blood permeating the air. Finding what you were looking for, you held it up high between your finger and thumb, expression holding that all too familiar disappointment.

Your lips quirked, "Not such a big man now, are you?"

Art was rife with laughter and joyfulness, and before you knew it, your giggling turned into cackling, blood smeared all over yourself as you held your stomach, tears falling down your cheeks in sick, dark satisfaction.

You hadn't laughed this hard in years, hadn't felt this liberated and happy in a while. Everytime you calmed down, giggles becoming quiet, Art would hold up the castrated organ absurdly, wiggling it like an ugly worm with a look of surprise on his face, eyebrows high and mouth open, and you'd be on the floor cackling madly once again.

It must've been a grotesque sight, you on your knees upon the floor, blood sinking so deeply into your clothes you wondered if it would come out, wiping tears of laughter away only to smudge deep streaks of red across your cheeks. You looked like an animal, rabid and violent.

Art gazed down at your crazed form with a smirk of satisfaction, chaos swirling in his eyes. It was as though he had been waiting for that part of him to corrupt you, for your anger to explode, for your unhinged desires to manifest.

After some time, everything fell peacefully quiet. It was comfortable, and dare you say amicable. Your breathing was the only sound in the room, slowing down as you gazed down at the way your feet were absolutely soaked red.

Leaning back on your hands, you caught sight of the demonic clown with his arms folded, leaning against the wall. He seemed serene, no longer smiling but definitely not frowning either. His black eyes perused the coating of blood on the floor, making their way up to study you deliberately.

His stare was intense, and you couldn't stop your cheeks from lifting upwards into a smile. Pushing yourself to a stand, you grimaced at the mutilated body on the floor and shivered in disgust.

You nudged at the corpse with your foot, cringing. "Maybe mortal men just aren't for me, anymore. "Though," you began as an afterthought, "even if I had a boyfriend, you'd probably kill him anyway." You sighed, fully acknowledging this.

You weren't even aggravated by that fact anymore. It would've really angered you once, but what's the point? You and Art seemed bound together forever, by the looks of it. You couldn't imagine him sitting idly with another person in the house. But then again, neither would you.

Art deliberated, gazing upwards in brief thought, before shrugging too. Yeah, probably. Just to get under your skin, mostly. And maybe an inkling of something else. He finally nodded, eyes staring down at you from his nose, like an old librarian with their glasses on the end of their nose. Snobbish. He had a reputation to up hold, you know. His nonchalant expression read 'well, you're not wrong.'

You scoffed, though offered a small smile nonetheless. He was amusing. For a silent clown, he was awfully verbal with his theatrical ways.

But now you began to think solemnly; What you just did - the killing, the maiming, the castrating - was vile. It was unforgivable, sickening. Your human half knows this, and something is conflicted within you. It felt like two halves of yourself were at war.

Even still, you felt joy. And you know that's wrong, and it's absolutely maniacal. But what's even more astounding is right here, on a late Saturday evening, you and that stupid clown stood with an air of tranquillity and comfort, together. If this was two years ago, you'd be within inches of maiming each other.

Like a domesticated couple, Art got to work on disposing of the body, dragging it with ease to your back door, before disappearing. It left a streak of smudged red on your tiles. You got to work cleaning, rolling your sleeves up as you hunted for something to make your floor shine again. It took a while, but he was gone for some time anyway.

By the time everything was relatively tidy, it was past midnight. The stain on the floor had disappeared thankfully, and you felt refreshed after a hot bath, changing into comfortable pyjamas and fluffy socks.

You sat in your bed, blankets pulled comfortingly up to your stomach. Your bedroom was filled with dim lights, and they had their necessary effect of making you feel content.

You had chosen a random film to watch on tv. It didn't really matter which one because your thoughts were otherwise occupied. It played serenely in the background, but something was bothering you.

A part of you felt slightly deflated. You were still undeniably frustrated and borderline desperate to have this desire quelled within you, and now that you had a moment to yourself, it barrelled to the forefront of your mind.

It was a ridiculous feeling, but you couldn't help that you were so pent up. Maybe you were ovulating. That did tend to make your hormones go haywire.

Even still, you hadn't long killed a man. It would be wrong to..indulge after that, wouldn't it? You pursed your lips in thought, two sides of yourself fighting menacingly. You couldn't tell if your good was being corrupted, or if Arts evil that had tainted you had brought out repressed, dark feelings that most humans surely kept hidden.

You didn't feel guilty, which was peculiar. Your nature before meeting Art often held a lot of empathy. You could feel yourself shifting, but you could never pinpoint the change until it had already been demonstrated. From the way Art pierced his black eyes into you, you bet he could see the transformation easily.

Your thoughts were interrupted as the background noise of the TV suddenly became incredibly interesting to your brain. You paused, peering at the TV as the sounds of quiet gasps and sloppy kissing filled your room.

It wasn't even particularly erotic, but..

Even just the sounds had your pulse increasing ever so slightly. In your desperate state of mind, it was easy to imagine how that messy kissing felt, tangled up in somebody else, remembering the feel of bolts of arousal shooting down your body in tingles as it became more passionate, more eager.

You were in a trance, frozen as you watched and drank up every detail. Male hands gliding down a womanly figure, cupping her heavy breasts and listening to the shaky inhales and exhales she made, back arching into his hands needily.

You felt a hot warmth bloom in your abdomen, a pulse beating steadily between your thighs. How were you so affected by this? You weren't even just mildly turned on, you were in a state of full blown arousal, a stickiness oozing between your legs. You felt like some of that was from earlier, mostly from the anticipation of sex rather than the futile attempts that asshole made on you.

The image now depicted the man positioning the woman on her hands and knees, readying her. You gripped your blanket, wanting so badly to be touched like that again and actually enjoy it.

Your eyes were fixated on the screen, hyper analysing every detail you could take in. The world around you faded.

The actor on screen gripped the woman's hips roughly, situating himself behind her. He gave her no time to prepare before sinking in slowly, and you watched the way her lips spread open in a quiet moan, brows furrowed and chest rising and falling rapidly.

A wave of heat flashed through you, making you warm enough that you had to kick the blanket off your person. What film was this? It was incredibly pornographic, not that you were complaining..

Your bottoms were next to go, tossed haphazardly to the floor; you were sweltering. Granted, the room was far too warm anyway, but what you were witnessing on screen had you in a completely different state of over heating.

All you had on now was a pair of black, silky underwear and an oversized top. You felt dishevelled, and sighed as the scene ended far too quickly for your liking and the TV adverts started to play.

You watched on in boredom as Christmas adverts began popping up colourfully with the sound of bells ringing. You felt mildly irritated, your arousal fizzling considerably, but still prominent. You were left with the sticky reminder between your thighs, head lolling back against your bedframe.

Your head rolled to the left, eyes staring down your nose at the sight of your bedside drawer. Specifically, the one that held a lot of intimate objects. You felt a little cautious using the vibrator because knowing Art, he'd curiously come up to see what the noise was; he seemed to have acute hearing.

But if you went under the blankets, vibrator hidden between your thighs, there's no way he'd hear that. Your door was firmly shut and the buzzing was incredibly muffled under your duvet. You'd be quiet and keep it on the first setting.

You were astounded once again at just how wound up and sensitive you are, vibrator delicately touching your clit as your phone displayed a pornographic video.

The cock on the screen was a good size, and as you watched it's girth spread the woman's puffy labia, a sudden desperation gnawed through you. You pressed the vibrator onto your clit more directly, the bottom of your t shirt caught between your lips as your tits jutted out prettily on display, nipples pert.

You bit down on the fabric to quell your whines of delight, breathing sharp and fast through your nose as the vibrating against your clit became over whelming, body alight with a white hot fire that spanned from your abdomen down to your toes.

Your sodden hole clenched needily, you wanted to be filled but you needed a man to do that. You wanted to receive a worthy dick that would split you in half just like the woman on your small screen.

The scene changed abruptly, and what was shown next had your hips bucking desperately into the vibrator, teeth now clenching the fabric hard as your breathing became heavy through your nose, pleasure intensifying.

The man had the woman on her knees, his member shoved ruthlessly into her mouth as he gripped a fistful of her hair and used her like a toy. Saliva decorated her mouth, and you watched with rapt attention as the mans heavy balls slapped her chin; it all seemed degrading, but..

A moan escaped you, muffled, and your back arched as you moved a hand between your thighs and touched the outside of your entrance; you were absurdly wet, sinking straight through your underwear and smearing your inner thighs.

You so desperately wanted to grab the dildo from your draw and push it deep within yourself, hard, but you refrained. Your climax was approaching anyway, and you could hardly stop yourself from whining at the thought of being the woman on the screen, sucking a hard dick as you made a messy pool of wetness below you, begging to be split apart.

From there, it was a hasty descent into blinding pleasure, your wariness dimming as low moans escaped your lips. Your eyes were shut now, permanent soft frown creasing your eyebrows as you were so close to your peak, cresting at the very precipice--

A loud bang resounded in your room, loud enough to drag you out of your delirious stupor. Your eyes shot open in annoyance, wondering if you had kicked your remote control off of the bed, but then your blood turned to ice in your veins.

In fact, you sat so absurdly shocked that all movements ceased, eyes wide and unblinking at the now ajar door of your bedroom which you definitely, without doubt, unequivocally, had shut earlier.

You blinked rapidly, vibrator dropping from your hand. It buzzed obscenely on the bed with a sheen of lubrication covering the tip, but you hardly registered it.

The door was less than halfway ajar, your dark hallway the only thing you could see, and..

A hand flew to your mouth in utter mortification, cheeks flaming crimson. You felt dizzy with a multitude of emotions.

A messy, hand written note was celotaped to your door. In jagged, capital letters spelled 'Art was here'. With a crude, childish winky face drawn beside it.

Your breathing increased suddenly, limbs shaking with not only the almost-orgasm you were about to receive, but also the unusual fluttering of your stomach in nervous humiliation and something else.

You felt severely perplexed, biting your nails as you tried to reminisce, tried to pinpoint when and how he had opened the door without you knowing and celotaped that preposterous note to your door. How was that even possible?

Clearly, Art wanted to grab your attention just as you were about to orgasm, most likely banging your wall from the hallway, hard. It sounded like a picture frame had fallen.

That made sense. At the very least, one thing did. But what about the rest, how was he able to furtively open your door, noiselessly, undoubtedly watching you?

You bolted up straighter, eyes darting around anxiously. Oh my God, he hadn't just intuitively known you were touching yourself, he must've heard something. Were you loud? You couldn't remember, you were so dazed.

Your mind created pictures of your thoughts, envisioning him opening your door just a crack and--

Your hands covered your face. You were so embarrassed. Had he been watching you? He surely had. And alongside this humiliation, why did you feel a flutter of nervous excitement roll through you? Were you so depraved?

Your hands kneaded your blanket, gripping handfuls and releasing rhythmically. Holy God, Art had made you feel many things over the years.

Hatred, annoyance, recent joy and laughter, fear, anxiety, you could go on and on, but this?

This was something new. And yeah, maybe he only did it to get under your skin. What better way to mortify a woman than catching her red handed, touching herself, and calling her out on it?

But..

Your thoughts took it a step further.

Was there..any other reason?

You bit your lip in contemplation, arms wrapped around yourself comfortingly. At some point over the past two years, brief thoughts of the demonic clown had entered your mind, fleeting sexual thoughts that left as quickly as they came.

Because, well, you were evidently desperate at this point. And he had a certain charm about him, once you got passed the ire you once held for him. And he was a man, or in a man's body, anyway.

Your mind swirled with questions, dirty thoughts, and unending embarrassment each time you realised he probably saw everything that you did.

And he probably saw the way your teeth gnawed into your shirt to silence yourself, heavy breasts poking out beneath, fully exposed, expression one of unbridled, desperate pleasure.

Your heart beat felt like it was in your ears, anxiety high. The door remained open for a reason. He wanted you to come out, and then wanted to absolutely humiliate you.

You got along a lot better now, as evidenced earlier, but that didn't mean that he'd stop messing with you.

Begrudgingly, you knew that even with your enhanced abilities and strength, you were no match for him. If he wanted to truly be hidden, he would. If he wanted to truly be swift and unseen in his movements, he would be.

You often found your bizarre abilities only worked when you were angry, or felt some sort of negative emotion.

Otherwise, you were just a regular human, having no control over that shard of terror that lingered within you from your rebirth.

Steeling your nerves, you took slow steps towards the door. You were still clad in your long t shirt and fluffy socks, and schooled your expression into one of stern stoicism.

You couldn't avoid that asshole forever.

Gripping the door handle, you stepped fully into the darkness of the hallway, enveloped. Standing still for a few moments, you realised he obviously wasn't outside your door, waiting to terrify you.

Swallowing nervously, you made your way downstairs. The stairs groaned and creaked like they always did, but it sounded absolutely deafening to you as it signalled your descent.

Out of everything that he had ever done to you - from killing you, to breaking your bones, stabbing you and everything else - this made you feel the most vulnerable.

Your living room was pitch black, not a single light illuminating the area. You held your breath, listening as intently as you could.

Silence.

Your throat felt too dry to call out to him. You knew your voice would shake, your words would stammer. It would make the situation even more shameful, so you remained quiet.

Your eyes surveyed the living room in darkness, honing in on any unnatural shadow that seemed a little too eerie; he wasn't here. That frightened you more than if he had taken this moment to jump out at you.

Uneasy frustration welled up within you. Not only had your pleasure been ripped away from you, your legs uncomfortably sticky, but now you felt incredibly exposed.

Inhaling deeply, you glared holes into your kitchen door. Two things could happen here: Either he was in there waiting to scare the hell out of you, or he wasn't in there at all, making you more on edge.

You pushed the door open, trailing inside with faux confidence, switching the lights on.

Nobody was here.

If anything, the kitchen was still surprisingly how you left it earlier - clean. Eyebrows drawing together into a scowl, you grabbed a glass of water, chair screeching as you took a seat.

Art must've pulled that trick on you and then promptly left, entering the night to no doubt destroy another victims life.

Brushing your dishevelled hair out of your face, you sat back against the chair defeatedly. Well, your emotions aren't going to change what's already happened, and you'd have to face that asshole at some point.

Evidently, tonight was not the night.

Glancing at the clock, you couldn't believe that it was already 3am. Your eyes felt heavy, your limbs felt weary and you were burnt out.

Peering around the kitchen, you realised that you must've left your phone upstairs.

That's fine, you needed to sleep anyway. Pushing yourself to a stand, you trudged sleepily up the shadowed stairs, rubbing at your burning eyes with the back of your hand.

You felt content at the moment to sleep off the crazy events of the day and worry about them tomorrow. Your door was open, just as you had left it, and the comforting glow of your warm lights that emitted from inside welcomed you with open arms.

Stepping into the safety of your room felt relieving, and as you turned back to close the bedroom door firmly, you came face to terrifying face with a chest.

You froze, mind pausing in fright at the sudden, tall body that blocked your doorway. You blinked rapidly, face displaying astonishment, and snapped your head up at the perpetrator, wide eyed.

What stared back down at you made caution well up inside you. Art stood tall, appearing out of thin air clad in his absurd Santa costume. It suited him, and the bulky material only served to make his structure appear even bigger, more menacing.

Your eyes fluttered up at him with uncertainty, darting rapidly between his face and his chest as you struggled to maintain his intense eye contact.

The clowns face was all sharp contours, edged smile of amusement plastered to his face as he leaned his shoulder against the doorframe, arms crossed languidly across his chest, widening his overall structure considerably. Has he always been this big?

He watched you with a wide, salacious grin, eyes alight and unwavering, and from the glint in his eye you knew what was about to come.

You swallowed, feeling your mask of neutrality betraying you as your body heated up, displaying a pink hue to your complexion. You didn't know what to say, how to act. Art could see this, the way you'd open your mouth only to close it, eyes darting around nervously.

You were usually so full of complaints, insults and incredibly argumentative when he had 'crossed the line', as you so often called it. As he so often did. Since your rebirth, you were all fire and wrath, near enough ripping his head off for something as simple as leaving a bloody mess on your floors or your door handles, if he didn't clean it anyway.

Of course, Art had begrudgingly agreed with you long ago to cease the truly harsh fighting, but that didn't mean that you didn't bicker, in a sense. He liked your ire, the way your teeth would grind together in anger, the way you'd go into an absolute fit if he threatened to childishly mess with your makeup and clothes, or anything you held valuable, really.

It was funny, and he knew you secretly got a kick out of it. Once the cat and dog game was over, you'd snap back to being a sweet, little human. It was interesting, and so amusing.

But this? Art peered down at you deliberately, perusing your flushed exterior with a smug, self satisfied grin.

He had been looking for new ways to get you to crack. So far, everything annoying he did was met with your aggressive screeches, and that was fine. But he needed something juicy, needed something that would really bother you, rile you up.

For a while, he struggled to find anything. He couldn't go too far with his schemes - you were both bound together, after all, so that would be met with futility.

He truly enjoyed bothering you, that was true, but his methods got boring. What could he possibly do that would make you think twice, or go silent? What would really shock you, make you revert back into your humanity, so full of emotion?

As a point of reiteration, he could have done many crude, evil and horrific things, but he couldn't because of your peculiar connection. So, he had to settle for something that was..bearable to you, but also astounding.

He came across this opportunity by pure chance. He knew what you got up to behind closed doors, you were a needy thing, but he didn't really think twice about it. He kept the knowledge of it quiet, however, just in case he ever needed to utilise it for fun.

It didn't interest him, initially. He enjoyed inflicting pain, mentally and physically, so the fact that you would so often touch yourself to induce pleasure wasn't particularly within his territory of fixations. He had other things that kept him occupied.

However, hearing your laboured breathing and quiet little moans had piqued his interest on this particular day. He had no reason for that, other than the simple fact that he wanted to spy on you. It was an urge that came by on a whim; it meant nothing, it is nothing, but Art often acted spontaneously on how he felt in the moment.

Mortal flesh did so often have its urges.

And a light bulb certainly lit up within his mind - this was the perfect way to humiliate you.

He had watched the way you gnawed at your t-shirt to keep quiet, pretty pert tits on display as you brought yourself closer and closer to completion. Art had grinned wickedly at the scene, hands fisting and shaking in excitement at the thought of never letting you live this down.

But, upon watching further, witnessing the way your head lolled back pleasurably, back arching and legs splayed wide in pure need, he couldn't deny the barely restrained desire to storm in and tease you until you were wracked with sobs.

Art had frowned in puzzlement at that feeling - it was incredibly rare for him - but his smile soon returned, shrugging as he accepted his feelings. If anything, this would only serve to embarrass you even more, he thought.

And now, dark eyes trained on your rapidly warming face, Art was enraptured by the amount of emotion that seemed to demonstrate itself. Your expressions changed quickly, and the details were minuscule, but he could see you entering a vicious cycle of bewilderment, embarrassment, anger and self consciousness.

It was as though your brain didn't know whether to lash out or guard itself. It was entertaining.

The silence hung heavily. Arts position remained the same, leaned casually against the doorframe, and yours remained as rigid and tense as ever. Your mind felt muddled. With a slow breath, your expression fell flat. Even still, you couldn't look him in the eye, and instead glared heavily at his chest.

"Stop it.", you began with a quiet, indignant scowl, chastising him. Your eyebrows drew together, so incredibly uncertain. His eyes bored holes into you and it was making you squirm. You were too stubborn to turn away.

Even still, you'd admit defeat temporarily. You didn't have the energy to battle him right now. With a huff, you turned on your heel and made your way to the bed, exasperatedly throwing your arms up into the air.

"Fine, stay there and stare all night for all I care; I'm tired." But you did care, didn't you? It gnawed at you.

Barely making it to the bed, you stopped abruptly at the sound of fingers snapping at you once, twice, seeking your attention. With a roll of your eyes, you slowly turned to look at him, expression thunderous. "Art, I'm not in the mood for this, and-- is that my phone?"

You barely breathed the question in masked panic, eyes wide once more as your phone dangled teasingly from his fingertips, wide grin stretching impossibly further.

The clown shrugged softly as though to say 'maybe', shoulders beginning to move rapidly, rising and falling in laughter as he held a hand to his mouth in faux astonishment at whatever was showing on your phone.

He feigned a look of bashfulness, fanning his face for a moment, eyes fluttering, before pointing and laughing at you some more. Your face twitched in it's attempt to remain calm and neutral, but Art could see right through you.

Covering his eyes obscenely at whatever was on the screen, but still very clearly peeking through the gaps in his fingers, Art swiftly turned the phone around so you could have a look.

That's when your mouth went dry and heat began to pinken your face even more. On the screen displayed the porn you were looking at earlier. You must've forgotten to close the tab, leaving the video running.

The volume had been turned up far too loud, the sounds of slurping and moaning vibrating through your skull deafeningly. A woman on screen had her hair gripped hard in a fistful, the man above her sliding his thick length between her lips. The sounds were filthy, and so so loud. You gripped the sides of your face loosely in devastation.

This time, you stormed up to him furiously, lunging and making a grab for your phone. "Stop it!", you repeated, shrieking this time.

You missed the phone entirely as he lifted it higher. You seethed, teeth clenched in frustration as the sounds continued, except now they had increased exponentially. From the way the screen turned down at you, you could see the man lifting the woman's thighs over his shoulders before he--

You shook your head furiously, shame blooming deep within your chest as you roughly slapped a hand against his chest for leverage, trodding onto his boots on your tiptoes to try and make another grab for your phone.

The attempt was futile, art was so tall and his arms were so long that you could never reach it. Your body was pressed up against his own, stretching high to make even minor progress in retrieving your phone. You could feel your anger boiling, scowling as you reared an arm back and aimed a punch for his sternum.

Everything happened incredibly fast after that. Before you could make contact, your forearm was gripped hard, your body was spun and your arm was wrenched behind your back.

You yelped, back pressed firmly to his front. You jerked side to side rapidly, releasing a cry of frustration in your attempt to get out of his iron grip, but to no avail.

"Let me go right now!" You attempted to sound demanding and aggressive, but it came out whiny, your voice shaking. You could feel the clowns body vibrating with laughter behind you, hand so tight around your arm you couldn't move at all.

On any other day, when you and Art would undoubtedly get into situations like this due to his pestering, you had a far better chance of escaping because you were often angry.

But today, you felt..more vulnerable than anything. You felt so puny, so small and human and fragile. It was a dirty trick on his part, and it prevented your usual unnatural strength from bursting forth.

Well, even with that strength, you don't think you could truly win against Art anyway.

Tossing back and forth regardless, you huffed and cursed at him repeatedly, knees slightly bent from the way he held you tightly and put pressure on you.

"You're a fucking asshole!", you seethed, practically feeling the mirth roll off of him in waves at your predicament.

A strong hand wrapped it's way around your delicate jaw, holding firmly but not painfully. Your head was pushed upwards almost playfully, fingertips tickling the underside of your face.

You met your own scowling expression in the body length mirror that decorated your wardrobe doors. It was as long as the doors and just as wide, giving you a clear view of Arts smirking face hovering above you.

You took in your dishevelled complexion, hair a wild mess, face lightly perspiring and your long pyjama t shirt barely reaching just above your knee.

You were hunched slightly due to being immobilised, and the hand that cradled your jaw looked absolutely massive. It was big enough to crush your skull if he wanted to, big enough to easily smother your mouth and nose without actively trying to.

Your scowl had lessened considerably at this point, that vulnerable expression returning once more. From this view, you hadn't realised just how tall he was compared to you. He was lithe, but wearing that Santa costume made him fill out a little, appear wider.

On a normal day his size would swallow your stature whole, casting a shadow over you, but in that costume?

He looked huge.

The stark realisation of this, paired with the absurdly intimate way he had your back flush to his chest and his calloused hand wrapped around your jaw with a salacious smirk, forcing you to stare at him in the mirror - you couldn't help but flush.

You found that you couldn't look away, your head attempting to move only to have his grip tighten, his grin sharpening. He loomed above you like an evil blight, eyes dark and calculating.

The sounds of the video continued in the background, a particularly loud cry having drawn you out of your thoughts, and it caused you to flutter your eyes to the floor and away from his charcoal irises.

You couldn't deny the heat that began to flourish within you.

It only increased tenfold at the feeling of a firm hand slowly gliding it's way from your jaw, descending directly to your waist, then further to your hip, squeezing.

Your eyes widened, head snapping back up at the mirror in bewilderment. You were met with the sight of his rough hand caressing you, smiling all the while.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" You spat rapidly in disbelief, words shaken and sounding far weaker than you would've liked.

He had never done this to you before. Art liked to cause pain, not..

Not this. Not any semblance of pleasure, of intimacy. Your lips opened in a quiet gasp, body tingling as the heat of his hand drew circles along your hipbone before delving lower.

You jerked in his grasp, flushing heavily at the sight of his hand gliding lower and lower until his fingers played with the hem of your t shirt.

"D-dont you dare!", you squeezed your thighs together, body squirming against him with struggle. He had long since released your numb arm, and instead opted for wrapping a long arm around your waist, your head resting against his chest as his daring hand gripped the fabric of your t shirt and teasingly went to lift it, only to stop, awaiting your reaction.

His shoulders began to move with glee, chest vibrating. Your reactions were priceless as you squirmed and attempted to back away from his hand, only to back further into his body.

This infuriated you, your flushed complexion displaying panic and bashfulness.

Those mischievous fingers danced along your thigh, lifting the fabric once again, higher this time, before dropping it. His expression held one of mock surprise, lips downturned neutrally and eyes wide, eyebrows lifted.

"Don't-- don't do that! I mean it!", you whined miserably, heat encompassing your body. It caused him to pause, eyes snapping from your almost exposed thighs to your pleading gaze.

That sharp, predatory grin returned. The heat of his hand squeezed your thigh and slipped under the fabric, tickling the edge of your underwear, fingers playing with the intricate, laced detail.

Your breath shuddered, eyes wide, and you unconsciously moved a hand to grip at his wrist. Whether to push him away or pull him in, you didn't know anymore; you felt overwhelmed, and the way your chest rose and fell rapidly portrayed that.

Art snickered, unwrapping himself from your body and taking a step back, his boots thumping. With a playful roll of his eyes, he held his hands up in mock surrender, as though to reassure you that it was all a harmless joke, and attempted to smile softly, innocently. It made him appear all the more sinister.

You spun around on your heel, taking a step back yourself as you scrutinised his display of surrender. It was uncharacteristic. Despite that, Art shook his hands exasperatedly in the air, sighing as though to say 'it was a joke, don't you believe me?'

You shook your head slowly, lost for words. You couldn't speak, throat dry and mind racing. You wanted to run away.

Art rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, before rolling them back to you dramatically, grin plastered on his face. At your retreat, he experimentally took a step forward, rather comical if not for the situation, and chuckled at your jittery self.

You furrowed your brows, not falling victim to this act anymore. You were going to kick his ass tomorrow, but for now you needed to retreat into the safety of your blanket, tail between your legs. "Get out.", you pointed towards the door sternly.

Arts eyes followed your finger to the door, before blinking over to you once more. His gaze swept over your form, head tilting in thought. He began to smirk.

Before you could react, Art leapt forward three steps, making you yelp and scramble backwards, narrowly missing falling over the edge of your bed as you backed your way towards the wall.

The clown snickered again, standing up tall and no longer doing that comical hunched appearance when he lunged at you. Now, he stood to his full height, back straight and stature big, before his boots thudded along your floor as he slowly advanced in a predatory fashion.

"I swear to God if you come near me--", you pressed yourself against the wall, watching his looming figure get taller and taller.

Your neck craned upwards, stare defiant as he hovered above. Heavy hands suddenly planted themselves violently either side of your head, crowding you in.

You flinched, blinking rapidly at the way he leaned down to become eye level with you. Your cheeks were pink again, eyes darting across his face for an answer to his weird behavior. What the hell was going on?

He was alluring, you thought, and it made thoughts race in your mind. Was he going to suddenly hurt you? Was he truly just playing? Was he actively flirting with you in his sick type of way? You had never fell this silent in front of him before. You needed to gain equal ground against this asshole.

"That's enough. What, are you interested in me now?", you scoffed, daring to lean forward into his space, face so close to his you could feel his silent breath; it was a front, you felt jittery even now, but you wouldn't allow him to mess with you any longer.

Art grinned, not at all reacting to your faux bout of confidence. He shrugged half-heartedly, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. It left you dumbstruck. What he did next made heat spread so unbelievably throughout your body.

You were so flustered your head felt heavy, and it only increased tenfold as your wrist was gripped in his big hand, fingers limp and relaxed, before he brought the digits you had touched yourself with to his lips and slid them in slow.

You shuddered, inhaling sharply at this display of intimacy. His grip was slack on your wrist, seeming to omit to the fact that you could escape if you really wanted to.

But you didn't want to. The thought didn't even cross your mind, and his eyes narrowed in a knowing sense of smugness at that.

Arousal swelled in your lower belly, pooling between your thighs as Arts tongue danced between the seam of your fingers, the ticklish feeling sending tingles through your nerves.

Art peered down at you, mouth full of your fingers, his grin turning nasty as he bit them lightly. Despite the clear threat that he could rip them out of the socket, your eyes remained lidded, pupils blown wide and hand lax as you let him caress you with his tongue and teeth. Crowded so close together against the wall, he could hear your heart beat thumping.

Dropping your wrist from his grip, Art reached down, bending at the knees to hook two hands below your thighs. You cried out as you were lifted high, legs resting in his grip.

He did this with ease, as though you were weightless. Sitting down on the bed, he adjusted you so you could sit on his lap, facing away from him. You could see yourselves in the mirror.

Art hooked his legs between your knees and spread them open. You wiggled against his hold, embarrassed at your exposure. Your black, lacy underwear was displayed, t shirt bunching up at your hips. You couldn't bring yourself to snap at him to stop fucking with you because..

Well, you were eager, far more eager than you thought. Had you always harboured this feeling towards the clown?

You were crimson faced, lips quivering as you tried to make your expression as neutral as possible; He had you on his lap like he was actually Santa, and you were the one telling him what you wanted for Christmas.

The thought had you lowering your head in bashfulness. No innocent Santa would have you spread and bared like this one.

The expression Art made in the mirror was one of mock surprise, eyebrows high and mouth forming like a circle. Before you could even ponder about it, a large hand was brought down to your inner thigh, fingers inching their way further in, caressing the sensitive area before cupping your clothed sex.

You held your breath, staring stubbornly back at him in the mirror. His hand was warm, and you couldn't help but shudder at the feel of his hand trailing upwards slowly, dancing over your clitoris briefly, then your mound, and up to the waistband of your underwear.

His fingers dipped below the waistband, gauging your reaction, but you refused to give one. Cocking an eyebrow in curiosity, you felt his hand descend, lower and lower, fingers gliding over your silken lips before delicately resting over your hole.

You flushed darkly, gritting your teeth as Art made an even more astounded expression, shaking his head slowly as though to admonish you for the mess between your legs. His fingertips rubbed circles in the lubrication oozing out of you, dipping in slightly but never far enough.

A small sound escaped your throat, barely audible, but loud enough for him. A slow, smug smirk stretched his face wide, and you could only huff defiantly. "I-- That's not because of you! I was like this before you rudely interrupted, remember?" You pouted.

Art rolled his eyes, nodding his head in quick succession with a look of mock belief at your words. He knew you were lying and so did you. Then, with a sly grin, two fingers glided upwards towards your slippery clit.

You gasped that time, quiet but still embarrassingly deafening to yourself, gripping the fabric of his forearm tightly.

A tingling sensation flooded your system, your body shifting and legs widening. He continued to massage the area, direct and blissful. You bit your lip, unwilling to let him see how much you enjoyed this.

Art chuckled, shaking his head at you with a nasty grin, eyebrows low and cynical. His dark eyes swirled chaotically, full of challenge and amusement and something else.

Hand descending further into your soaked underwear, two fingers dipped into your slit, thoroughly lubricating his calloused fingers.

Art paused, winking at you in the mirror. You attempted to glare back at him in the reflection, but you lacked the effort, and instead your eyebrows were drawn together softly, lips parting as two fingers slid into you to the knuckles, delving deep and curling sinfully against your greedy walls.

"Oh!", you moaned, hips lifting instinctively. Art began to thrust his fingers into you deep and hard, listening to the lewd squelching and how it seemed to fluster you terribly.

The feeling was intense; you hadn't been properly touched in so long, so to feel his thick, rough fingers curling rhythmically within your hot core, it made your nerve endings sing and your hips buck.

You gripped his arm hard, gasping, body fully resting against his own, head lolled back against his shoulder. Arts shoulders shook with laughter, terribly amused by the sight of you falling apart, but he wanted more from you. He wanted to break you, he wanted to make an unintelligible mess of you.

You were so prideful, you'd never live this down.

A fist gripped your hair roughly, tangling the locks before his fingers began to pummel into you expeditiously. It was too much, too fast, and you couldn't help but kick your legs uselessly, crying out.

"Ah, ahh-- Stop it, too much--", you whined, panting as the sounds of your wetness became loud, thighs drenched. You could see in the mirror the way his hand moved ferociously, molding the fabric of your underwear.

Your pleas made him speed up, thrusting so hard and so fast you wailed, thrashing upon his lap and dampening the fabric of his costume.

This was what you wanted, you thought heatedly. You wanted someone to render you immobile, shatter your mind. The view of his sinister smirk boring holes into you was alluring, head forced backwards with the grip in your hair. It made heat prickle along your spine.

Your hips began to move with his fingers, desperately seeking more, any semblance of pride vanishing as you chased your high. Your constant grinding made you feel the thick, long length pressing up against your ass, and you couldn't help but moan wantonly, pushing yourself into it with need.

His hand was drenched in your fluids, and it made him snicker. If this was you now, imagine you later when he forced you to take his cock.

Suddenly, your underwear was torn off of you, exposing the image of his large hand going in and out, curling, and thrusting deeply. The visual was arousing, your eyes half mast and dilated.

His palm lifted suddenly and jerked back down with a quick, firm slap. You jolted, wincing at the sting it caused, but before you had a chance to return back to contentedness, it struck again.

Those sinful digits eased their way out of you, smoothing up the length of your puffy labia, cupping it soothingly. You sighed, panting lightly, body relaxed and pliant.

His hand was hot and it made you feel content.

This time, it was sharper, and you gasped, scrambling to sit up but being forced to remain where you were as an iron grip wrapped it's way around your midsection.

Again, that firm hand slapped your sensitive folds, and you whined miserably at the pain and pleasure it caused.

Your lips were beginning to darken red from his assault, and yet you were still undeniably wet from his ministrations.

Your legs began quivering from the overstimulation, and you drew them together, trapping his hand. He seemed to let you, tilting his head with a quirk of his lips.

"S-stop tormenting me. Can't take it, not today. Please, just..", you paused, gnawing at your lip; you didn't want to admit to him what you really needed.

Art blinked rapidly, almost innocently down at you. He held a cupped hand to his ear, his other hand waving for you to continue, as though to usher you to speak the words he knows you're going to struggle to admit.

You pouted petulantly, eyes sparkling with unshed tears from frustration and the light stinging of your folds. Your peak had been building, only to be abruptly halted.

"No," you groaned weakly, "don't make me say it, you asshole." Your words lacked any real ire, and instead sounded exhausted. You were so pent up, so desperate at this point. As soon as the offence left your lips, two fingers began circling around your clit, refusing to touch directly. Art all but smiled at you patiently, face splitting with glee.

You sighed softly at the soothing pleasure, head lolling back against his shoulder. It felt so good, and you tried to buck your hips to make his fingers slip over your clit, but to no avail.

This caused you to release a frustrated whimper, feebly bucking your hips again, but this time Art stopped his stroking altogether, fingers hovering above the area you needed them most.

"No, I-I'm sorry!", you rushed out insincerely, desperate for his touch. You could feel tears dancing along your lash line, threatening to spill pathetically.

"Don't stop. I.. I need this so badly. Please.", you relented, biting your lip nervously, eyes fluttering to the floor in shame. You felt that familiar vibration; he was laughing at you.

Even still, the clown did deliberate. On one hand, he could continue tormenting you. That would be fun, and it was the initial plan, but even he couldn't deny his mortal desires. He had a strong threshold for such matters; he wasn't often interested enough.

If anything, he never paid enough attention to whether it was a man or a woman that he was maiming. That only goes to prove how disinterested he was in the whole affair of carnality.

This situation was unique, however. He was bound to a human he had once killed, who had just as miraculously as him managed to rise from the dead, and was stuck with you for ever. And, you are a woman. He couldn't damage you terribly, and he couldn't kill you. What better way to make you submit to him than by fucking your prideful, spiteful, hot-headed little self into the bed?

You were so easy to aggravate, spitting venomous insults and screeching in anger at him. That was all well and good, but he wanted to see the look on your face when he pummelled you dumb.

If death was out of the question, then immobilising you with his own body would have to do.

Gripping your waist tightly, Art maneuvered your body with ease, spinning you in his lap until both your thighs sat either side of him. A hand held your lower back firmly against his body, standing up halfway to tug down the bottoms of his Santa costume. They fell to his knees, and he promptly sat back down, grinning.

You hovered over his thick length, flushing red in anticipation. Hands finding leverage upon his shoulders, you let your wet lips rest against the tip, shivering as you did.

He felt big. You hadn't really managed to look at it, but from the feeling you knew he was going to split you open.

He seemed to be barely touching you, grinning cheekily as he awaited your next move. His cooperation made you uneasy, you wondered what he had planned.

The thought disappeared swiftly as you bared your hips down onto him, letting the tip nudge past your swollen lips, sinking in an inch or two.

You inhaled sharply, feeling the beginning of his girth and pausing in your descent. "I-I haven't done this in a while and you feel--mmm-," you bit your lip, sinking down a further inch, your insides pulsating and stinging.

You squeezed him tightly, walls rippling and attempting to mold to his shape. You gasped again, lips parting in surprise as you lowered slowly, delicately, his size stretching you.

You gripped his shoulders, fabric bunching up in your hands. Your thighs were shaking from the effort it took to descend patiently. Even with how wet you were, his hot length dragged against your insides, another inch being enveloped in your tight heat.

"Nng, its--so big", you breathed shakily, eyes glistening again. Art observed your pained expression in awe, smirking and winking at your compliment.

Two hands held your hips tightly, fingers digging in to the delicate flesh. You sighed delightedly at the contact, not at all preparing yourself for the sinister spark in the clowns eyes, before he slammed your hips down into his forcefully, tearing through you and settling within you to the hilt.

You cried out woefully, arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as a pained sob was wrought from you. He could feel you shaking against him, panting against his ear, and couldn't help but chuckle nastily at your pain.

"W-wait, I need to adjust--", you began softly, voice quivering, but was given no time as Art lifted you up to the tip then dropped you back down. Your soft ass slapped against his lap, a horrible pain mixing with pleasure inside of you.

"It hurts! You're too big--!", you whined pitifully, tears dripping from your eyelashes. You gripped around his neck hard, body contorting in pain, shallow breaths hitting his ear.

Art knew this. You were so tight he had to grit his teeth, but he revelled in the concoction of pleasure and pain that wracked your body. You were too weak to fight him, trying to lift yourself off of him only to collapse back down, crying out as he filled you again. He could feel your tears soaking into his costume, and it made his cock fill with blood.

You were so full, the stinging sensation unbearable, and as he lifted you again, dragging your sodden hole off of him, he thrust up into you, letting your hips drop as he met you halfway and slid in.

A surprised moan was torn from your lips, a boiling heat enveloping your body as pleasure tingled and spread throughout your nerves. Art enjoyed your pitiful, pained cries, but he knew that the pain began to melt away as your breathing went from shallow, pained pants to breathy exhales.

The stinging became a dull sensation in the background, your insides igniting blissfully as those strong hands lifted you up once more, sliding all the way out before filling you up rhythmically.

"Mmm, Oh-", you moaned breathily, lips permanently parted. You no longer contorted your body awkwardly and instead began to melt against him, curling about his form needily.

Your hips began to take control, moving up and down his rock hard length, eyes closed against his shoulder as he emptied you and filled you over and over, thrusting up to meet your downward motions hard, filling you deep.

"Yes--Oh--", you couldn't stop the noises tumbling out. He wasn't even doing much, merely meeting your thrusts, but he was so big and long and thick and mouthwatering-

"Need more", you whined weakly, nuzzling your face against his neck, the fur of his Santa costume tickling your nose. "Please.", you added softly, thighs shaking so badly you didn't have the energy to lift yourself up fully.

Instead, you lifted your hips half heartedly, attempting to at least try, feeling that over whelming pleasure every time he thrusted upwards into you.

Each downward pull made you needy, and each thrust had you seeing stars. You could feel the grin on his face beside your cheek, body moving with silent chuckles. You were so responsive, feeling those big hands trail from your hips and down to your soft globes, pulling the cheeks apart.

You could feel your hole opening, feel his rigid length sinking in even deeper. You realised that he could probably see himself driving into you from the mirror reflection, your sopping core on full display as it sucked him in greedily.

You peered over your shoulder curiously, lidded eyes honing in on the mirror. The erotic visual had you writhing in his grasp, gnawing at your lip as he stared right back at you, lifting a hand to wiggle his fingers at you.

It was weirdly humiliating, but before you could turn away to nuzzle back into his neck and hide, his hand was brought down sharply in a loud slap upon one of your round cheeks.

You gasped, lips parting as your gaze remained frozen on his slowly retreating hand, waiting with bated breath, before it bared down upon your jiggling flesh again, and again, and again.

Your body jerked each time, a gasp escaping upon each impact, but your eyes couldn't leave the sight behind you, infinitely aroused at how displayed you were, at how massive he looked below you.

Art soothed the red handprints on your cheek with a gentle rub, looking at you in the mirror with mock concern, lips pouting out at you as though you were the cutest little thing.

You couldn't handle the embarrassment any longer, and turned back around to wrap your arms around his neck, thighs giving out below you. Two hands returned to your ass again, before gliding up into you faster this time, one thrust after another, drawing longer moans out of you.

The increase in pace made you writhe upon his lap, mewling in delight. You let yourself be manhandled, swiftly reaching down to grip two hands at the bottom of your t shirt and rip it over your head.

Your breasts bounced free, nipples teased against his body with each thrust, igniting a white hot sensation directly to your clitoris. You moaned a lot deeper this time, mouth below his ear, gasping and mumbling pleas.

Art reached a fist into your locks and wrenched your head back, hearing you wince and watching the sultry way you bit your lip at his rough actions.

You finally made eye contact with him, face to face, your complexion a dark pink. You put up no fight against his hold, even as he wrapped his fist tighter and pulled your head back hard. Your neck was bared, and you watched those charcoal eyes drop smoulderingly to your jiggling breasts.

His teeth attached themselves to your neck, biting and caressing the column of your throat, before finding an appropriate area and sinking his teeth in hard.

You cried out noisily, the sound pleasurable but stunted by pain, sounding more like a yelp. The harder he bit, the faster he fucked you, and you were soon delirious on the pain and pleasure, feeling his teeth latch on harder and harder until warm liquid oozed from the puncture of your skin.

Tears dripped from your eyes, cascading down your cheeks as you hiccupped and sobbed, your neck pulsating painfully. You didn't fight him, so caught up in the way he split you open.

The demonic clown paused, drawing back from your bruised and swollen neck, eyes flickering from the blood trickling down to your collar bone, and all the way up to your sparkling eyes, tears streaking your cheeks.

You winced, hair still wrenched back, moaning weakly at the pain, your breathing turning shallow again.

A hand cradled your jaw, thumb wiping a stray tear, and you couldn't help but nuzzle into the warm palm, comforting and big. It wasn't often he got to see your tears. The sight made him want to make you cry more, spill those fat droplets from your eyes.

Art tilted his head a fraction, inquisitive at your display of affection. You seemed to latch onto him, needing to be touched, gripping at him and melting against him. It was a far cry from your usual self.

His fingers moved down to the puncture wounds on your neck, pressing onto the tender flesh and making more tears spring from your eyes. It felt bruised and the skin was beginning to rise.

Blood dripped down your neck, and he used two fingers to swipe a clean line up your neck, coating his fingertips in the red substance.

Your eyes honed in on his crimson fingers, alight with need. Art tilted his head the other way, deciphering, and burned his gaze through your intimate display as you gripped at his hand and brought his fingers to your lips.

You suckled the tips, cleaning the crimson off of him, before taking his fingers into the back of your mouth, lathering them slowly.

Your own fingers dipped into the wound, wetting the digits red, before you hesitantly brought them towards his lips. His thrusting slowed, eyebrows lifting minimally, a shard of surprise running through him at your carnality. Your blood was alluring enough to halt his ministrations.

Finally, that dangerous mouth opened, slowly enveloping your smaller digits, tongue curling around them sinfully.

Your stare was unwavering, blinking from his mouth to his eyes before settling on those wretched depths. They swallowed you whole, scrutinizing your own visage. His smiling had long since ceased, a stern neutrality overcoming him even as you drew your fingers back and wrapped your arms around his neck to press your bloodied lips onto his.

The urge overcame you, tongues battling against one another messily. The remnants of your blood mixed between your lips, a soft moan of delight escaping you.

You never thought you'd be kissing this maniac. It sent heat coursing through you, borderline delirious from the feel of being so wrapped up in a being that was so dangerous.

Your passion resumed, hips lifting enough to feel the drag of his dick in your tight heat, before gliding back down with a light slap of your ass against his lap.

You were so wet it began to lather your inner thighs, dripping down your legs and coating his balls.

Your desire began to reignite, no longer a simmering heat and instead increasing to a boiling wave that overcame you. You grinded your hips, breaking your lips apart to gasp at his depth.

Art became watchful of your eager display, letting you pleasure yourself with his body. You leaned back, arms around his neck and extended straight so that you still had some leverage, and moaned wantonly as your position changed and his cock began to stimulate that lovable spot deep within you.

"Oh fuck--mmm--", your head lolled back, tits bouncing rhythmically as you increased your pace. You could barely hold your moans in now, overwhelmed by the pleasure of his length hitting you just right.

Art recognized the increase in your pitch and the way your body moved desperately upon his, and grinned. He wiggled his eyebrows playfully, gripping handfuls of your jiggling ass and beginning to meet your movements with his own, fucking up into you hard.

"Yes, right there, oh my god-", your legs were no longer folded below you, resting back on your knees. You had swiftly moved them, sitting fully into his lap now with your legs extended either side of his waist. This added even more depth to his movements. You could no longer grind your body against his, simply taking whatever he gave you.

"It's so deep, oh-" you began to quiver, needing so much more,  but all he could do was smirk down at you amicably, as calm as ever, watching you fall apart as each thrust directly pummelled into that spot.

You felt like ripping your hair out in frustration, body squirming upon his own in distress. Each thrust was like a shot of an addictive drug, filing you up and making you feel so high, but you needed that unrepressed carnality that you craved.

Shaking your head with a pinched expression of dismay, you leaned forward to wrap your arms fully around his neck once again, head resting on his shoulder as you whimpered.

His rigid length bruised against your cervix, hands on your hips and holding you down just to get that inch deeper. You were shaking, exhaling little 'ohh's into his neck, eyes squeezed shut.

"Don't care anymore; Need it harder", you whined pathetically, warming his neck with your hot breath; you were starting to crack. "Please fuck me. Need you so bad. Making me feel so fucking good-Oh--"

Your waist was gripped in a bruising force, lifting your body up and down like a pliant doll, fucking you vigorously. Your sweet admittance sent a thrill through his body, so he supposed out of the kindness of his heart, he could cease his teasing. For now.

Art gave you a lascivious smirk, eyes twinkling mysteriously. With a slight shrug and a nod, he seemed to silently agree with himself that it was time to get serious.

The world around you blurred as you were thrown onto the bed, hips forced into position. Your body bared itself on hands and knees and you tentatively peered upwards towards the mirror, fists clenching into the quilt in anticipation.

You watched the large, looming clown settle behind you, swallowing your body whole. With a playful wave at your watchful gaze, Art thrust forward and buried himself within you.

Your breath escaped your lungs in a silent gasp, body lurching forward from the force as he held you in place and began fucking you deep and fast.

He didn't tease you this time. Everything that had happened previously had been leading up to this moment, and it was mind shattering.

Repetitive 'uh's and 'ohh's sprung from you at each thrust, his cock splitting you open well and good just like you've craved for so long. He felt massive in this position, your velvety insides hot and tighter.

Gliding out until the tip, he'd push back in smoothly, coated in your arousal. It drove you wild, the lewd smacking of skin and wet squelching that increased more and more as he drove in faster, harder.

Your knuckles were white from how hard you gripped the bedding, unintelligible praises falling from your lips at the way he made you feel.

" 'm so full, oh my god-", you cried almost lovingly at the sublime feeling of him tearing through your snug heat, near enough bruising your cervix.

With a cynical pout down at you, mockingly awed by your kind praises of his ample size, Art reached forward to grab a fistful of your hair, wrenching your body backwards so your back bowed enticingly. It made your ass look rounder, made it jiggle and ripple more against his unrelenting thrusts. It hypnotized him, his cock rock hard.

Your upper body was suspended by the hand in your hair, and you could now clearly see how ravaged you looked in the mirror. The looming Santa behind you dwarfed your figure, all jagged smile and wiggling eyebrows at your pleasured expression.

Your tits bounced prettily in the reflection, witnessing the way his normally piercing gaze faltered and darted down to the erotic scene, before darting back up to your face. His smirk appeared lascivious at being caught, and he gave a comical, light shrug.

For some reason, an infernal fire roared within you at that; This creature was evidently attracted to your feminine form. It made you moan louder, reaching forward to play with your round globes teasingly, jiggling them with your incessant fondling, biting your lip at him in the mirror.

You were becoming feral for him.

Art cocked an eyebrow, head tilted in rampant interest at your display. That same jagged smile returned, and almost as a reward, he leaned forward and circled two calloused fingers over your sensitive clit.

Your reaction was instantaneous, legs shaking and body jerking at the intense pleasure. It made you nearly collapse forward if not for the grip in your hair, his cock still relentlessly spearing you.

"Fuck, just like that, ohh--", you cried blissfully, shuddering. Arts expression appeared sternly concentrated on your exclamations and the way your body sucked him in greedily. His thunderous expression was terrifying, but it only served to increase the heat within you tenfold, your body pliant and melting into his ministrations.

He shattered your equanimity, your mind turning to mush and only thinking of his thick hands and his fat cock-

Your thighs were violently quivering, struggling to not collapse. Your moans increased in pitch, high and breathless and weak.

" 'M so close, your cock feels so fucking good and I'm going to cum, im--ohh!"

Your body was roughly dropped, a violent hand forcing you into the bed. Your ass remained high while your cheek laid itself upon the blankets, face contorting in mindless, pleasurable relief as those murderous hands gripped at your hips and began fucking into you so expeditiously you wailed.

His heavy balls slapped your clit with each filling thrust, teasing the bundle of nerves to the point your knees began to quake, on the brink of collapse.

"Fuck, fuck!", you shrieked in repetitive succession, breathing erratically as his thick, long, veiny cock fucked you so good that you just burst-

Your knees did collapse this time, but firm hands kept your hips situated perfectly to receive his godly pistoning. With a high, keening noise you didn't know you could ever make, so desperate and whorish, your pussy contracted and gushed.

Your thighs were soaked and dripping, your bedding ruined. You could feel the way his grip tightened bruisingly on your hips at the feeling of your insides pulsating steadily, milking him, demanding he fill you up like you craved.

Your self consciousness and any semblance of pride were shattered into a million pieces at the mind numbing euphoria you felt. It enveloped your entire body in a blanket and made you feel like you were floating. Your insides fluttered intensely making your breathing erratic and short.

Your face was forced even further into the bed as you reached two arms back, planting a hand on either side of your round cheeks.

With a flushed, fucked out visage staring back at Art from the way your face was turned on its side, you spread your enticing cheeks apart, moaning. "Need you to fucking fill me, need you to fuck me so full please please-"

Art couldn't deny the intense arousal that shot through his body and engorged his cock unnaturally further. Your dainty fingers spread your cheeks so far apart he could see the way your hole split around his length, the muscles parting forcefully at his intrusion. Your virgin, tight puckered hole caught his attention the most, and he moved a thumb to rub the area tenderly, a promise that he'd make you scream yourself hoarse the day he managed to fit his cock into that narrow passage.

You'd cry, he'd make sure of it, and the thought and the visual in front of him was enough to have him seizing your hips so strongly that they would bruise, fucking you brutally and hearing your sobs of pain and pleasure, before his hips stuttered once, twice against your cervix and a flood of hot, ropey squirts painted your insides.

He filled you so deeply it made your body think it needed to pee, if only to expel the amount of cum within you. It was unnatural, but he wasn't a mortal. If anything, the absurd amount made you melt dreamily into the bed, thoroughly fucked and bred and satiated for the time being.

You felt the clown retrieve himself, sliding out with a lewd squelch. Your hole gaped and quivered, his cum oozing out of you messily and coating your thighs. You moaned pleasantly at the feeling of two fingers scooping out the sloppy mess, coating his fingers with it before pushing them into your mouth. You accepted the gift, a noise of delight escaping you.

It made you want to suck his cock and have him fill your mouth until you choked. The thought was arousing, clitoris pulsating lightly as you reached down and rubbed it in lazy circles.

His body moved behind you, two hands gripping your ass cheeks before a hot, long tongue nudged your fingers aside and lapped at your clit. You moaned wantonly, pushing your hips back into his ministrations, feeling that heat invade your abdomen again, signalling another orgasm.

"Oh God, fuck, your tongue feels so-feels so--", you cried out as two fingers sunk into you to the knuckles, pushing the sloppy cum back into your hole dirtily, all the while his tongue lapped at and lathered your clitoris, licking broad, rough stripes up the bundle of nerves until you were a whining mess.

"Fuck, fuuuck, don't know if I want your tongue or your cock more, mmm-"

Art chuckled into your sodden pussy, eyebrows low and sinister. You were shameless, your pleasure ridden brain void of anything else other than the need to be fucked dumb.

A high pitched cry of pleasure tore him out of his condescending thoughts about you, his mouth drenched in your splattering orgasm. His fingers curled within you, brutally fondling that area that had you outright weeping into the pillows.

Little 'too much!'s and 'stop!'s were cried out to him desperately, your body convulsing as though you were possessed. Wiping his mouth, Art sat back and admired his work.

You were panting, pleading in a high pitched, pathetic tone. Your body was overwhelmed, tired and bruised, and Art sat back on his knees and thought for a moment, hand to his chin.

His eyes rolled up to the ceiling in brief contemplation, and then he shrugged, situating himself behind you again.

You whimpered at the feeling of him forcing his sturdy cock into your puffy walls once more. The sound you made was strangled and weak, drool dripping down your chin shamelessly, body losing function of itself. You were crying openly, brought deeper and deeper into a submissive sort of headspace.

He grinned sharply, his cock hardening at the sight of your pathetic state. He bet he could make your body lose all inhibition and piss itself. You'd be so ashamed, and he'd make you lick the liquid off of his cock; a good girl for Santa.

He began to fuck you, patting your messy hair adoringly. You whimpered and wailed, pleading for more, pleading for less. But he found that he wasn't finished with you just yet. You wanted this, didn't you? You told him so yourself.

With a comforting stroke of your hair, Art smiled mockingly down at you, pouting his lips out at your cuteness. He couldn't go back on his word; he was going to fuck you until you couldn't walk.

Thrusting into you, your mouth opened in unbridled pleasure.

The comforting stroke of your hair turned sinister, gripping a fistful up to the root.

Your pretty, wet eyes stared back at him over your shoulder, lips quivering.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Epilogue

You had fallen unconscious. He had drawn orgasm after orgasm out of you to the point that you begged him to stop, crying so much that you couldn't breathe. Art adored your tears, awed and fascinated by them. The only reprieve you were given was your exhausted, slumped body falling soundly asleep. It was exquisitely blissful, but too much to bear.

You awoke with a weak groan, pushing yourself up to a seated position. You were naked in the blankets, but Art seemed to have the decency to clean you up slightly, your inner thighs dry and not at all the mess that they were a few hours prior. That was oddly sweet of him. And unexpected.

You wrapped a dressing gown around your body, wincing as you stood on shaky legs. Your insides felt battered and bruised, your hips dark with fingerprints. Making your way downstairs, your eyes were sleepy and lidded as you switched the kettle on to make yourself a coffee.

You had a moment of peace to yourself, or so you thought.

In came strolling that demonic clown, looking as fresh as a daisy and wide awake as he bounced preppily over to you, plonking his cup down beside yours in a silent request that he, too, wanted something hot to drink. Preferably hot chocolate.

He no longer adorned his Santa costume, instead dressed as he usually was in that monochromatic suit, face paint as immaculate as ever. He smiled down at you dazzlingly, or as brightly as a demonic entity could, patting your head like you were a golden retriever before grabbing the hot chocolate that you had barely stirred with your spoon and taking a seat at the table, newspaper in hand.

You eyed him warily, exhausted, and felt a small amount of embarrassment flourish within you at how normal he was acting and how drained you felt and looked and..

Not to mention the memories of last night either. You promptly locked them away in a box and threw away the key for now.

You reached up to grab a box of cereal from the shelf and sighed. You couldn't be bothered to eat right now, even though your stomach was grumbling noisily.

What you didn't expect was for a white hand to flash in your peripheral, grabbing it for you, before gripping your hips and spinning you to face him.

The pressure on your hips made you visibly wince, and Arts expression turned to one of shock, mouth an 'o' and eyebrows high. You frowned weakly at him before pushing his hands off of you with barely any effort behind it.

"Hurts." You pouted up at him, shaking your head lightly. You felt so weak, you really needed to replenish yourself and eat something.

Art cooed down at you, pinching your cheek lightly. You scowled now and moved away from him, thoroughly drained. He could sense that your usual fire had been doused at the moment, and held a finger up to represent a lightbulb moment.

Before you could contemplate it, you were picked up bridally and sped into the living room, making you squeal and giggle breathily. Art dumped you onto the settee, turning the TV on and putting on a horror film.

He jumped beside you, blanket covering both yours and his legs, and you couldn't help but smile dreamily at him.

He fucked you good and hard last night, and now wants to watch one of your favourite horror movies? What a gentleman. Art deadpanned at your bizarre expression, clicking his fingers in front of your eyes to snap you out of it. You only smiled wider, eyes crinkling.

"You know, you're sooo sweet when you want to be."

Art comically guffawed at your admittance, shaking his head swiftly to deny such a thing, lifting a finger to the side of his head and twirling it in a clockwise motion to signify you were crazy for ever thinking something like that.

The overly dramatic, rare expression had you giggling again, soft and sweet. Art rolled his eyes at you, waving you off as though to say 'yeah, okay, don't get used to it'.

Seeing this as a prime opportunity to tease, you were swiftly silenced as a slice of cake was shoved into your mouth. You don't know..where he got that, but he was a clown, after all, and it tasted edible.

Sighing contentedly, you chewed the sweet treat slowly, watching as the scene on TV displayed a possessed woman in the shower, scorching water melting her skin as she carved her mouth apart with glass.

You loved this movie, and Art seemed intrigued, cackling silently beside you. Wrapped up in the blanket, you leaned against him comfortably, and he seemed unperturbed by it, eyes honed in on the screen.

You don't know why he was being so gentle with you. Art never did things unless he wanted to, and that was enough of an answer for you; he simply wanted to act this way right now. Even still, it made you feel warm, and you supposed living eternally together wouldn't be so bad.

Well, that was until you fell asleep, awoken by the chill of having your thighs spread apart and cake smeared all over your puffy, abused folds.

"Art! What the hell are you doing?! I told you I'm in pain--"

Art chuckled evilly, leaning down to lick a gentle stripe up your icing covered lips, savouring the sweet taste.

Your breath hitched, but you still held your hands against his shoulders, faced etched with nervousness. "P-please don't. Can't..can't handle it right now."

Art tilted his head a fraction, staring up at you in awe. You had retracted to that submissive headspace again, and he found that he relished it. Repressing a cheeky grin, Art held his hands up placatingly, schooling his expression to one of neutrality, or rather barely masked amusement, and used his finger to draw an imaginary X over his heart.

"You mean you won't..be too much? Really? I'm having a hard time trusting you, you're literally grinning at me right now..." You huffed, expression incredibly wary.

Art covered his mouth with the back of his hand, teeth clenched as he grinned and laughed. Even still, he coughed once, face falling flat to prove he was.. moderately serious about being gentle with you.

In truth, he just wanted to eat your juicy pussy and hear you moan his name again. He bet he could get you to ask him nicely to fuck you.

For added effect, Art splayed his wide hands on your thighs and tickled the skin with either thumb, rubbing soothing circles into the flesh. Again, you had that dopey, dreamy expression on your face, and he began to think he really did damage your mind last night.

"Fine, just..be gentle, okay? I'm in no mood to quarrel today."

Art shrugged lightly. He kind of felt the same. It was refreshing hearing your soft voice instead of your screeching one of anger, or seeing your fluttering eyes at him rather than your stone cold ones.

Who knew that fucking you silly would make you so tame, so pliant. It was rather funny. Guess it proves that all you needed was a bit of dick to calm you down.

And Art was feeling surprisingly generous today. With a quirk of his lips, he settled between your thighs and placed them onto his shoulders.

Tongue darting out to lick up from your hole to your clitoris, he lathered the nub gently, lowering his lips to suckle it.

You gasped softly, widening your legs for him and biting your lip. The pleasure was instant, a heat boiling in your abdomen and fluttering down to your toes.

He was good at playing the part of devoted and gentle, and gripped at your hand delicately, lacing his fingers with your own in an intimate display. He watched you blush a pretty pink, mouth parting in awe at his uncharacteristic tenderness.

As you stared into his smouldering eyes, he smothered your clit beautifully, making you moan and buck your hips up into him.

He knew the moment your moans turned deep and sultry as he prodded a finger at your entrance, that you'd soon be backtracing your words and pleading with pouty lips that he fuck you gently.

There was an undeniable connection between you both; you were bound, after all, and even he wasn't immune to the effects of it. He'd still aggravate you, and absolutely wreak havoc on your wanting body, but he also rather enjoyed the peaceful tenderness of these moments, save for your breathy moans and the sounds of someone dying on the TV.

It made him feel peculiarly content. With a smirk into your sodden folds, Art thrust a finger into you deeply, standing between borderline pleasurable and 'too much', as you had said.

You had yet to berate him, he noted.

Within a few minutes, you were a mess down there, soaked and sticky with cake. He remained true to his word, not at all being rough, and instead holding you delicately in warm hands as he sucked and licked at your glistening folds.

"Art, it's the best part of the movie- Ah--"

He rolled his eyes at you, though did spare a single glance at the screen when he heard the sound of a chainsaw.

In no time, you were panting and reaching your peak, soft cry breathed into the air as his fingers curled and pumped into you, tongue massaging your clit. You gushed down his wrist, quivering.

Art smiled innocently up at your flustered self, imitating dabbing his mouth clean with a napkin. He jumped up and sprung beside you once more, pulling you into his sturdy lap and leaning back comfortably.

His eyes didn't leave the screen, fully focused.

You shifted, wiggling to get comfortable and felt his hard dick pressing against you. You bit your lip and glanced at him guiltily - you had just proclaimed that you were in pain today, and now you were having thoughts of him fucking you?

You settled back against him, flushed and buzzing with arousal. The film was almost over. Art grinned behind you, eyes ablaze with mischief. He knew what you wanted, but like you said, he was missing the best part of the movie.

Maybe if you're lucky, he'll fuck you later. But for now, you'd sit tiredly spent against his chest, chuckling at the brutal massacres on screen. More cake miraculously appeared, which always helped. It was pressed against your lips forcefully and you were more than happy to take it, humming in delight.

"Who'd have thought that you killing me all those years ago would evolve into this.", you smirked at him, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. "You're actually really cute. No idea how I never noticed it before." Your girlish expression lit up your face, eyes sparkling.

Art looked exasperated at your comment and shrugged. He smiled cheekily, pointing at himself as if to bashfully say "who, me?"

Your giggles rung throughout your home, his silent laughter making your body move. You felt a sense of contentment - a partner in crime to maim people with and to fuck you dumb.

Your eyes swirled black, corrupt and tainted, and promptly shut sleepily.

What could be better than this?

i need him so bad. this is pure smut. i made an epilogue to add fluffy things but it turned into smut 💀

also this isn't related to sporadic contingency at all, its just a standalone fic x

[jarofstyles]

Bite

Hello my friends! Here is a vamprry one shot. It’s a darker one but I hope you guys will like it. 🎃

Check out our Patreon for early access and 200+ exclusive writings

WC- 6.4k

Warnings- vampire h, blood play, he kinda kidnaps her tbh, dark h, soulmates, mask kink if you squint, oral (f receiving) smut, degrading, h is a vampire so their morals are not human-like you know

Her blood pressure was high. She was sure of it.

Going to a haunted house wasn’t her idea, nor was it her ideal for the weekend of actual Halloween, but her people pleasing ways had gotten her once again. The same with wearing a fucking dress, because they’d decided to go bar hopping afterwards. Not the brightest idea at all, but she wanted to stick it through.

It seemed to be going well enough until they got separated.

She had somewhat of an idea that someone was watching her. She just didn’t know how correct she was- or how much danger she was in. Harry's eyes narrowed as he watched her get separated from the group.

Fate had chosen his fun for the night.

He quickly disappeared into the shadows, his lip quirked under the mask. This was his favorite time of year. He knew these halls like the back of his hand, and he knew exactly where she'd end up. He followed her as she tried to navigate her way back, unaware she had no hope there was no real way back, his footsteps silent on the creaky floorboards. It was thrilling, the muffled screams from other rooms fading to let him hear her breathing, fast and panicked. Little heartbeat pounding away at her chest. She was so alive, and it thrilled him.

She didn’t have a clue.

The dim of the flickering lights cast eerie shadows on the peeling wallpaper as she hurried down the narrow, winding corridor, her heeled boots clicking nervously on the worn wooden floor. Her breath hitched in her throat as she heard a faint, raspy whisper carry through the heavy silence, the air thick with the scent of dust and fake fog.

“Why are you running, pretty girl?” The rasping voice had her turning around, only to be met with empty space. there was no one there. “What’s got you spooked?”

Her heart thundered as she clutched her chest, turning slightly as the voice seemed to move. Like it was circling her, almost. It was suddenly that the lights went out, making her freeze in fear.

What sort of haunted house was this? And could she get a refund?

Harry grinned wickedly as he watched her from the shadows. He had missed this. The thrill of it all soothing an itch he usually couldn’t scratch. Though his usual victims weren’t quite as pretty as her, he noted. They didn’t smell as good either. He ducked into a small, concealed alcove as she whirled around, her panicked breath misting in the sudden darkness.

She could hear the faint drip-drip-drip of water echoing through the darkness, and the distant sound of maniacal laughter from another room. But closer, much closer, she could swear she heard breathing. Slow, steady, and menacing. Her own breath caught in her throat as she tried to pinpoint where the sound was coming from, her eyes straining to pierce the inky blackness.

“Who’s there?” She whispered into the quiet. It dawned on her that there was no party following behind her. She didn’t hear the footsteps, she hadn’t realized she’d veered off course, but she was still in the haunt. This had to be part of it- right? “I- I’m sorry I got off the path. If you turn up the lights I’ll just go back to my friends.”

The breathing paused for a moment, and then it started up again, louder this time. It was definitely coming from right next to her. She could feel the presence of something, or someone, but she couldn't see a thing. Couldn’t feel any body heat. The only thing she could feel were the vibrations when she heard a low, chilling laughter that sent shivers down her spine. "You're lost..." The voice whispered menacingly in her ear. It was when she could feel the cool breath on her neck that everything in her panicked.

She jumped back, her heart racing as she stumbled backwards, tripping over her own feet in the process. She landed hard on the floor, her dress riding up to reveal her thighs. She heard the creaking of floorboards as whatever was there moved closer to her, its footsteps echoing in the darkness. "You shouldn't have come here... alone..." The voice hissed at her. “Don’t you know it’s dangerous?”

“I didn’t mean to! I got separated from my group. I didn’t mean to go off the path.” Her voice was weak and warbled as she felt the sting in her elbow from the fall. “Just let me out and I’ll be on my way.”

The figure loomed over her, its presence oppressive and menacing. "But where's the fun in that?" It growled. She could hear the rustling of fabric, and then a gloved hand reached out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her to her feet. She struggled, her heels clicking against the floor as she tried to break free, but the grip was too strong. "You're not going anywhere."

He pulled her into the concealed alcove, her struggles turning into whimpers as he backed her into the wall. His gloved hands roamed her face, gripping her roughly as he grinned wickedly behind his mask. "You’re a pretty one aren’t you?” He chuckled. “Such a treat. Let’s play.” He reached out and caressed her cheek gently, a stark contrast to the other hand’s rough grip on her jaw as his thumb brushed over her bottom lip.

"Open your mouth." he commanded, his voice low and menacing. She hesitated, her eyes wide with fear- but he didn’t give. He tightened his grip on her jaw, his fingers pressing into her cheeks. "I said, open your mouth." he repeated, his voice leaving no room for back talk. Reluctantly, she parted her lips, her teeth chattering slightly. He grinned deviously and slowly slipped the glove off and his thumb into her mouth. "Suck. It’s for your own good.”

She hesitated again, but the menacing growl from behind the mask urged her on. She wrapped her lips around his cool thumb, sucking hesitantly at first, but growing bolder as he watched her with a dark, intense gaze. It wasn’t like she could see him, but there was no way she couldn’t feel his stare on him. The metallic taste was unfamiliar to her, but it was what would save her. His grin widened as he slid his thumb in and out of her mouth, mimicking a motion that made her blush furiously even in the darkness. "Lovely girl, finally listening to instruction." He praised, his voice hoarse. "Now, bite down. This is going to hurt, but it’ll feel good afterwards.”

The girl had no idea what he meant until she heard the mask slipping off his face and her head was tilted to the side. She barely had a second to think before she felt it. The sharp bite down on her throat, burning at the site as she let out a strangled scream. The man- or creature- let out a satisfied groan as he sucked at her throat, pulling what had to be blood from her. All her instincts told her to run, but she couldn’t. She was frozen.

He drank with deep pulls, his arm wrapping around her waist to hold her upright as colorful spots danced before her eyes, even in the dark. She felt lightheaded, her limbs growing heavy and sluggish. She could hear the pounding of her own heart, growing slower and softer with each passing second, the sounds of his sucking drowning it out.

The soft plush of pleasure started to hint over her, the pain fading into the fuzziness of warmth in her tummy and between her thighs. Just as darkness began to claim her vision, he withdrew, licking his lips as he admired the two puncture wounds on her neck. "You’ve got lovely blood.” He murmured. “So sweet. Best I’ve had all season.”

He leaned in close, his voice a soft whisper in her ear as he held her up. "I should have you for the full meal... but I have other plans for you." With that, he scooped her up into his arms and carried her deeper into the house, her limp body resting against his chest. She was tired, her mind fuzzy from the blood loss, but she let out a soft whimper as he squeezed her lightly to his body. “I usually finish my meals and let them run off, but I think you’re a bit too good to toss.”

Part of her questioned if she was awake right now as he carried her through because nothing made sense. When her eyes opened again, it was different. The house changed. No longer was it the decrepit source of the haunted house, but it was restored. Like it had shifted all in front of her eyes. She wasn’t sure what was real and what was fake right now, if this was even reality, but it didn’t make any sense. The cobwebs were gone. The smell was lavish, rich, like incense. The haul was lined with velvet curtained windows and hand painted oil art, none of the flashing lights or fake fog to be seen.

What the hell was this? And what was he?

He carried her into a grand bedroom, the four poster bed draped in black silk. It was nothing like her own and she wanted to fight him, ask him what the fuck was happening, but she had no energy to do it. He had taken too much from her.

The monster laid her down gently, smoothing her hair away from her face as he admired her pallid complexion. "You'll wake up tomorrow, thirsty and changed. But don’t worry, I’ll be here for you.” He leaned over her, his ungloved, chilled finger roaming over her cheek as he caressed her. "I’ll be the only one you crave.”

——

The sun streamed through the open curtains, casting a warm golden light over the room. The girl stirred on top of the duvet, her arms reaching out to stretch before she realized she wasn't in her own bed. Her body was stiff, a throb in her joints as she let out a little whimper at the feeling in her body. Everything felt heavy still. Slow. She sat up groggily, rubbing her eyes as she took in the opulent room- one she didn’t quite recognize at first. There wasn’t much time for her to go over who’s room it was, or why she was there though, because she felt a twinge in her neck as she tried to move her head. That's when she noticed the feeling. The thirst. It was unlike anything she'd ever experienced, a burning, aching need that demanded to be quenched. There wasn’t any sort of suggestion about it, it was a need.

Her throat burned. It was a hollow aching in her stomach, the stinging of her throat, her hand reaching up to cover it as she flinched. Pulling it back she looked at the ring snugly fastened to her ring finger, a red gem with a gold band. It wasn’t one she had- or was it?

Her memory was hazy. She needed something, someone, but she didn’t know what it was.

As if summoned by her thoughts, the door creaked open and in strolled a man, one that seemed familiar in the way that unsettled her, a small glass of crimson liquid in hand. He was sans mask, his dark hair disheveled as he grinned at her. Bright white teeth gleamed at her as he stood in front of her, smile softening as he clicked his tongue. Something about his smile was off putting, but she couldn’t look away. "Ah, you’re up. Good. I was beginning to think I’d given you too much.” He held out the glass to her. “Drink."

The girl's eyes widened as she stared at the glass, her parched throat aching with desperation. She reached out, her hand shaking as she took the glass from him. The liquid inside was a deep, rich red, almost burgundy in color and didn’t look like something safe for human consumption as she swirled it to see it much thicker than anything she usually drank, but her body was acting on its own. She brought it to her lips, the cool glass feeling soothing against her dry skin. As she drank, she felt the liquid slide down her throat, the warmth a soothing kind instead of the pain, spreading through her body and quelling the burning ache.

She probably should have thought twice about taking it from the stranger, but she didn’t. All she cared about was getting rid of the pain, getting more of the liquid down her throat so it didn’t sting any longer. The whimper that left her lips was pathetic as he pulled the glass away, his hand reaching out to thumb the droplet that had fallen down her chin back up and into her mouth. There wasn’t hesitation as he pushed the digit in, her hand grabbing his wrist and sucking the remaining drop from his skin.

He let out a low hum, his free hand reaching out to gently tilt her head back, forcing her to keep his thumb inside her mouth. "You're so thirsty, aren't you?" The man murmured, his thumb moving slightly, pushing against her tongue. "Such a pretty little thing, and so desperate for something to quench your thirst."

The thumb was pulled from her tongue, swiping over her bottom lip as he towered over her. She had no idea what the hell it was, what was happening, but her body trusted him and craved more of whatever he’d just given her. “More.” She croaked, lightly digging her nails into his skin. “Please, I need more of it.”

“The newblood desperation isn’t usually this cute. I think I got quite lucky last night, don’t you think?” He chuckled darkly, his other hand reaching up to cup her cheek as he leaned in close. "You'll get more, but first... you have to earn it." His thumb pressed against her lips again, pushing them open as he spoke and tapped her bottom teeth. "I have a game for us to play. If you win, I'll give you all the blood you can drink." His voice was a seductive purr, his thumb sliding into her mouth once more.

“I’ll do it.” She whispered instantly. “Anything. I’ll play.” The girl didn’t even know his name, but she wanted to please him, she wanted more of the blood. It didn’t even click with her that it’s what she was drinking. All she knew was that she needed more and she was willing to do anything to get it.

"Excellent. That’s the spirit I like to see." He crooned. "Now, the game is simple. I'll ask you a question, and you have to answer truthfully. If you lie, or hesitate, the game is over and you don't get any more blood." He pulled his thumb out of her mouth, only to replace it with his other finger, gently rubbing against her tongue.

"First question...what's your name?" His eyes gleamed with amusement as he watched her, feeling the soft suckle she gave his digit. She didn’t seem to comprehend that he was truly talking to her, or she didn’t want to pull her mouth from his finger, but that simply wouldn’t do. "Come on, now. No need to be shy. You can speak around my finger, can't you?" He smiled, his voice firm. "Answer me." His thumb brushed against her bottom lip, encouraging her to part her lips and speak.

“Y/N.” She spoke, muffled around his finger. Her eyes were hazy and soft, body warming up from the blood settling in her system and the attentive stare of the man in front of her.

"Good. That wasn't so hard, was it?" He praised, slowly pulling his finger from her mouth as he spoke. He brought the digit to his lips, sucking the remnants of her saliva from it as he grinned at her. "Now, Y/N...do you know where you are? And how you got here?" His eyes were intent on her, watching every flicker of emotion that crossed her face. "Take your time. Think carefully."

She mourned the loss of the soothing she had from sucking, but she felt the hot zip right between her thighs as she watched him clean off his skin from her saliva. There was something about it that made her reach out for him, gently tangling her fingers in the fabric of his shirt as she peered up at him with wider eyes. It was a good question.

Where was she?

“I… I don’t know.” She finally realized she couldn’t quite place it. “Did we hook up or something after the bar?” It wouldn’t be the first time she did something stupid on a night out.

"No, we didn't hook up. That will come later.” It was inevitable. His perfect creation was made for him. The fates had been so kind to him last night, putting her in his path. “We ran into each other at the haunted house. You got lost. Got into some trouble." He gently unraveled her fingers from his shirt, lifting her hand to press a soft kiss to her knuckles. "You don't remember anything else, do you?" His expression was unreadable, but his voice was gentle, coaxing.

“No.” Haunted house? Her mind felt muddy. Like she was wading through quicksand as she tried to navigate the slow thoughts that seemed to be underwater in her brain. It sounded familiar. “I don’t like haunted houses. I probably didn’t want to go. I don’t… I can’t tell why I don’t remember.”

She had no recollection of him feeding off of her, of him finding her lost from her group and choosing her as his meal. She especially had no memory of him telling her why she was here.

"That's alright. You will, in time." He soothed, bringing her hand to rest over his heart. She didn’t notice it wasn’t beating. "For now, just focus on me. You're doing so well, Y/N. I'm very proud of you." His eyes glowed softly with affection as he spoke. "Here, have a little more. You deserve it." He bared his wrist to her once more, the vein pulsing enticingly. "It’s not the same as the other, but I think you’ll like it just the same. Drink."

Her eyes dilated, pupils swelling to consume the new color of warm gold of her irises as she stared at the offered wrist. Her breathing hitched, chest rising and falling rapidly as her hands trembled with anticipation. She reached out, fingers wrapping around his wrist as she brought it closer, inhaling deeply to draw in the intoxicating scent of his blood. A soft whimper escaped her as she leaned in, parting her lips to sink her teeth into his flesh.

It was all instinct. She didn’t understand why she was doing it, why she was so relieved to have her teeth in him. His finger pet at her hair as she breathed frantically through her nose, sucking the thick, sweet blood over her tongue with a soft moan. He tasted so good. It was going to be hard to stop.

He let her drink, his other hand cupping her cheek gently as he held her to him. His blood filled her, warming her from the inside out, making her feel alive in a way she never had been before. "That's it, my love. Drink. Take what you need." He whispered, his voice low and husky with desire. His thumb stroked her bottom lip, encouraging her to draw more deeply from his vein.

Her jaw ached as she continued to suckle at him, her lips sealed tightly around his wrist as her tongue fluttered against the wound she'd made, trying to draw more of it onto her tongue. She felt the smooth of his blood sliding down her throat, filling her belly, seeping into her very soul. Her fingers flexed against his wrist, nails digging into his skin as her body shivered.

He carefully unwound her arms from around his wrist, prying her fang-like teeth from his flesh with a low chuckle as she let out a mix of a growled whine from the loss. "Easy now, love. Not too much. I need to keep some strength for myself." He soothed, running his thumb along her bottom lip to catch a droplet of blood that had escaped. "Look at me, Y/N." He commanded softly, waiting until her glazed eyes focused on him before he continued.

"There you are." He murmured approvingly, his own eyes dark with unsated desire. He leaned down and licked the wound on his wrist clean, hissing at the sudden spike of pain before it faded. Pain and pleasure went hand in hand. "You're going to be the death of me, you know that?" He teased, his voice barely above a whisper. It would be true, if he could still die. He brought his clean wrist up to cup her chin, his thumb brushing across her bottom lip. "Such a greedy little thing."

She whimpered again, leaning into his touch as her eyes fluttered closed, savoring the feel of his skin against her lips. She could still taste his blood on her tongue, the metallic tang lingering in her mouth and making her want more. When she opened her eyes, they were glowing with a fierce hunger that made him chuckle darkly. "You're insatiable." He whispered, his own desire rising to match hers.

“I don’t….” She stood up, legs slightly wobbly as she faced him. “I don’t know what you did to me, I don’t know where I am, but I want you to stay.” Her hand grabbed his and wrapped his arm around her. The unprecedented need for him to be touching her, it felt just as desperate as the need for blood was. “Why am I feeling like this? I don’t know you.”

His other arm wrapped around her automatically, his large hand splayed across her lower back to support her. Dark eyes searched hers, seeing the genuine confusion in her gaze. He was a stranger to her, and yet her body craved his touch like it craved blood. He brought her flush against him, his other hand cupping her jaw. "Shh, it's alright." He soothed, his voice gentle.

"I'll explain everything, I promise. But for now, just...feel." He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, a soft, slow kiss that deepened into something more passionate. His hand on her back slid down to her bottom, squeezing possessively as his tongue slid against hers, sharing the taste of his own blood. He felt her relax against him, her body molding to his as her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer. “Just know that you belong with me. To me. That’s what you need.”

Yes. This was what she needed. It made no logical sense, she knew, but logic was lost when it came to this. Ever since she had woken up she had been squirming, itching for something, and she realized now with his lips on hers and his hand grabbing at her ass, she knew this had been the missing piece.

“What’s your name?” She panted against his mouth, unsure if he had said it. Her mind was a mix of things and none of it logical.

He pulled back slightly, his breath ragged as he looked down at her. "Harry." He whispered, his thumb brushing across her cheek. "And you're Y/N." He handed her the reminder her gently, his other hand cupping her ass and pressing her against the growing hardness in his pants. "We're going to be together, Y/N. Forever." He promised, his voice dark with his promise. “I chose you last night.”

Why did that make her feel good?

She didn’t know him, and yet she was preening over the fact that he was promising forever with her. He could be an awful man. She knew nothing of him other than his blood tasted good somehow, he was one of the most attractive men she had ever seen, and she had gone home with him last night. None of it seemed to matter to her rationally. Maybe she’d lost her mind along the way; maybe he’d taken it from her. Regardless, she didn’t want to fight it. It felt wrong to fight it. “Forever?” She whispered, melting into him.

"Forever." He echoed, his voice a low growl that made her hot between her thighs. "I'm going to take care of you, Y/N. I'm going to give you everything you need. Teach you all you need to know. I created you, and I’ll take care of everything you need." He promised, his other hand sliding up her back and into her hair, tangling in the strands as he deepened their kiss.

He kissed her deeply, his tongue sweeping into her mouth as he held her close. His hand in her hair tightened slightly, tilting her head to the side to deepen the kiss further. His other hand never left her ass, squeezing it gently as he pressed her against his hard length. He broke the kiss for a moment, his breath coming in harsh gasps as he looked down at her. "I want to take care of you, Y/N."

She moaned softly, her eyes fluttering closed as she parted her lips to his expert kiss. Her fingers tightened in the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer as she pressed her hips against his, feeling his cock against her belly. When he broke the kiss, she whimpered in protest, her eyes slowly opening to meet his gaze. "Please..." she breathed, not even knowing what she was begging for, only that she needed more of him.

Harry's pride swelled at the sight of her, so needy and desperate for him. He loved it. He loved how much she craved him, how much she needed him. The choice to take her, to make her his mate was the correct one. It was in his bones, he knew it the moment he had heard the panicked pitter patter of her heart in the dilapidated facade of the hallway. He leaned down and captured her lips in another deep kiss, letting them linger. "Don’t fret. I'll give you everything you need, Y/N," He promised against her lips. "But first, I need you to sit on my lap."

The creature guided her with his hands on her hips, helping her straddle his lap. She wrapped her legs around his waist instinctively, her skirt riding up to reveal the softness of her thighs to the creature, against what was sure to be any sliver of self preservation. He groaned softly, his hands running over them appreciatively. He had so much to observe and worship with her- this was just the beginning for them. "Now, touch me." The vampire instructed, his voice low and commanding. "Anywhere you want." He watched as she hesitantly reached out, her hands exploring his chest through his shirt, feeling the hard muscles beneath.

He smiled encouragingly at her, his eyes darkening with desire as she grew bolder, her touch making him sigh as she ran her hands over his abs and chest. He could feel her touch through his shirt, her fingers trailing fire wherever they went. "More..." he encouraged, his voice a low growl. He wanted her touch on his bare skin. As if reading his mind, she began to unbutton his shirt, her fingers fumbling slightly.

He sat still, letting her undo his shirt, his breath hitching as she revealed his chest. He had always been proud of his physique, and the way she looked at him now, with wonder and admiration in her eyes only made him feel more smug about it. Once the shirt was open, she hesitated, looking up at him with a hint of uncertainty. As cute as it was… That wouldn’t do. He reached up and gently pushed the shirt off his shoulders, letting it fall to the side.

"Touch me."

She reached out, her shaky fingers brushing against his bare chest. He hissed at the touch, his abs tightening as she ran her hands over them, feeling the hard muscles. The girl leaned forward, her hair falling over her shoulder as she pressed her lips to his chest, kissing and licking his skin with her lips smearing against the cool skin, falling into the intimacy easier as he held onto her and pushed her dress further up. Harry growled softly, his hands gripping on her hips as he thrust his own upwards at the tongue lathing over the side of his throat, the movement pushing his erection against her core.

Her breathing hitched, her eyes fluttering closed as she continued to kiss and lick his skin, her hips grinding down to meet his thrusts. She was so engrossed in the sensations that she didn't notice his hands sliding up her thighs, bunching up her skirt until his fingers brushed against the hem of her underwear. He broke the silence of panting breaths, his voice hoarse. "S’my turn. I'm going to touch you now, Y/N."

She needed it. Her body was yelling at her to submit, to let him touch, because that’s what was necessary. It was a craving. Words echoed in her mind, his voice telling her ‘When you wake up, I’ll be all you crave’ or something like that, but she couldn’t focus on it when she felt his fingers brush her humid cunt.

Her response was a needy whimper, her head falling back to expose her neck as her hips canted forward, giving him better access. He hummed in approval, his fingers slowly sliding under the lace of her underwear to touch her bare flesh. She was so wet, so ready for him. He rubbed her slowly, his touch gentle, coaxing more needy noises from her. "That's it, love. I know what you need. Let me give it to you."

He slipped a finger inside her, her tight warmth clenching around him. The sensation of it made him groan, his head dipping down to nuzzle against her neck, inhaling her sweet scent as he began to move his finger in and out of her slick hole. Her breathing caught, her fingers clawing at his shoulders as she panted his name. "Harry."

"I know, my love. I know. It feels so good, doesn’t it?" The croon was slightly smug, but she didn’t care. It felt too good to have his finger inside of her, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of her neck.

"More." She begged, her body tensing as he curled his finger upward, finding that sweet spot inside her. He nipped at her neck, his fangs scraping against her skin, making her hips buck against his hand. It felt better than she ever remembered a simple finger inside of her feeling, but it didn’t make much sense. Nothing about this did.

"I'll give you more." His hand stilled for a moment, his fingers sliding down to gather more of her essence before he added another finger, filling her more for a few more thrusts. "But first, let me have a taste."

Y/N yelped in surprise as she was flipped, tossing her right on the mattress she had slept on. There was little time to prepare as he gripped her dress, tearing it in two so easily that she gaped at the strength of him. She knew the dress was slightly cheaper- she was on a budget, sue her!- but how could he do that?

The thought had to go on the back burner though, watching as he got to her knees between her thighs and spread them open for his viewing pleasure.

The man looked up at her, his eyes devious as he held her thighs open, preventing her from closing them. "Very pretty everywhere, aren’t you?” Leaning down, his tongue flicked out to taste her, dragging through her folds. She gasped, her back arching off the bed as the sensation of him tasting her rushed through her. "Mm.. and you taste so good here, too... Not just your blood. I did a good job in choosing, didn’t I pet?"

He didn’t give her a chance to answer, let alone think about what he was saying fully before he began to lick and suck at her, his tongue delving inside her to taste her nectar. Instead, she moaned, her hands gripping the sheets beneath her as she writhed with pleasure. He was relentless, his mouth working her clit with expert precision until she was panting and begging for something. What? She wasn’t sure.

"Please, Harry. I need..." Her brow furrowed as she looked down at him, unable to finish her sentence as his dark eyes looked up at her with his mouth expertly latched onto her, messily slick with her on his lips and chin.

"I know what you need." He snarled against her wet flesh, sending vibrations through her core. “Be quiet and let me give it to you.”

He sucked her into his mouth, his lips wrapping around her clit as he suckled. His tongue lashed against her, his hands gripping her thighs and spreading her wider as he buried his face deeper, licking and nipping at her delicate folds. His tongue plunged deep inside her, withdrawing and surging forward once more, making her keen as she tilted her hips up towards him, trying to write but unable to close her legs with how he held her open for him.

His hands tightened on her thighs as he devoured her, his fingers digging into her soft, warm flesh. She could feel his cool touch on every inch of her, his tongue plunging into her core again and again, his mouth suckling at her swollen pearl. She was helpless against the onslaught of pleasure, her hips bucking against his mouth as she neared the edge. "Harry, please. It's too much..."

He growled against her, the vibrations pushing her even closer to the edge. "No, it's not." The vampire mumbled, his voice muffled against her wet flesh. His arms wrapped around her thighs to hold her down as he continued to feast on her. Golden eyes lifted to meet hers, the possessive look in them making her feel hotter despite the cool touch of his hands. He meant every bit of this. There was no hint of casual about this. The man meant it when he said she was here forever. "You can take more, Y/N. You’ll take what I give you, because you belong to me now. I created you."

His words sent a flash of heat through her, his dominance washing over her like a tidal wave. He continued to eat her out, his tongue and mouth working her relentlessly.

It was simply too much.

The new blood in her veins, the unrelenting pleasure, the claim of ownership, all of it had her losing grip on whatever sense of reality she had left. Moans echoed through the room as she climaxed hard, her entire body shaking with the force of it. He didn't let up, continuing to lick and suck even as she came, prolonging her orgasm until she was a sobbing, shaking mess.

Her sobs turned into screams as another wave of pleasure hit her, his fingers joining his mouth as he pushed three inside her, continuing to pump in and out of her as he drank her release from her core. His tongue lashed against her as he drank her in, his fingers crooking up to find that spot inside her that made her see stars.

With a final lap at her pussy, he pulled back, his face glistening with her essence. His eyes locked onto her thigh, his hand trailing up to caress the tender skin. The creature needed more of her. To solidify their bond even more.

There was no words exchanged as he made the decision for them, spreading her out and finding the spot he wanted, where he could see the pulse still thrumming under her skin. He leaned down, his fangs sinking into her flesh as he drank from her, his hands gripping her thighs possessively. He growled against her, his voice muffled as he took deep pulls, her orgasm sweetened blood flowing into his mouth making him moan and his cock pulse inside of his trousers. She wasn’t a full blood like him. He’d be taking advantage of the human blood flowing through her veins every day for the rest of eternity.

His hands tightened on her thighs as he fed, his touch proprietorial and unyielding. She could feel the pull at her vein, the sensation sending waves of pleasure through her, heightening the sensitivity of her over stimulated body. She whimpered, her hands finding his hair and tangling in the silky strands as he drank from her. He didn’t want to pull off, knowing it made her feel good and knowing she tasted this good because of him, but he wanted to enjoy her in the softness of post orgasm and feed haze. Retracting his teeth, he sighed deeply, licking over the bleeding mark on her inner thigh. It was dangerously close to her cunt- something he liked.

A meal with a view.

The vampire had waited this long to take a mate. He deserved to enjoy it.

He lifted his head, his eyes meeting hers as he licked his lips clean. His face was a stark contrast of brutal and beautiful. Blood stained his swollen mouth and chin, a stark crimson against his pale skin. His eyes glinted with a feral light, his pupils dilated with satisfaction and desire. The creature’s dark hair was mussed from her hands running through it, making him look deliciously disheveled.

It was unsettling knowing something so dangerous could be so beautiful.

“We’re going to have a lot of fun together, little treasure.” He purred, giving her mound a kiss before licking over his bottom lip to chase the taste of her cunt and the blood he had just pulled. “My favorite creation yet. I can’t wait to play with you some more.” His nails dragged down the sensitive skin of her outer thighs, making her squirm in his grip. “I hope I don’t break you too soon.”

[writingescapades]

Jealous Rafayel

A/N: This started as jealously headcanons than became something else, lol.

Has two sides. The immediate more obvious, dramatic reaction is the one you are most used do. More like, it’s what you see on an almost daily basis. Rafayel basks in your attention. It’s like seeing the sun on a cloudy day, or feeling it’s warmth as a ship comes close to shore. One always notices the presence and loss of the sun, and Rafayel finds himself in continuous orbit around you.

There is also desperation painfully laced in this response. A question wondering how much time does he have left in this life? When would he see you next? These are questions that hang over his head and subject him to the agony of being a powerless god. So forgive him for his numerous gimmicks to veer your attention towards him. It not about knowing one another. It on creating those moments where it just feels like only the 2 of you exist in the world, like you’re the only 2 stars in the sky, because one day, there will be only one star. And he doesn’t want it to be. He doesn’t want to bear your loss anymore. So he clings on, each time reminding himself that you’re still here.

He's not particular on whether it’s your work or another person who is taking your time. They’re all evil demons that have him dramatically flailing because woe betide the young man who suffers the loss of love. If your try to console him, he’ll playfully scoff and shove you off claiming to not be second choice. If you cater to him, he’ll sigh and supposes he’ll accept your love. If you shrug and walk away, he’s chasing after you. It’s one thing to be jealous. It’s another to be alone in your jealousy.

But it’s all fun and games. His words are all bluffs intended to capture your attention on any excuse. Afterall, who wouldn’t want to hold onto the sun after lifetimes of darkness? But when you allow your priorities to consume you. When the time away from him is more than the time spent with him, that’s when Rafayel’s true jealousy comes out. Despite his temperament, Rafayel’s negative emotions do not flare out as easily as his positive emotions. Sarcasm and wit are as far as he gets, and even then, he keeps a light tone. Negative emotions coils around him, slowly, slowly twisting until it seeps out.

His voice cuts you like an ice shard. This time, he looks right at you, eyes so dark you cannot find their original colour. He uses everything at his disposal to his advantage. Leaning over you, he speaks in a sharp quiet voice. He’s direct in his accusations and tells you upfront that he doesn’t like what’s happening. Despite his anger and demeanour, deep down Rafayel is worried. He doesn’t trust easily, especially not humans, and though he knows not to treat you the same as other humans, he can’t help but notice patterns. When those patterns appear to be heading down paths he’s traversed too many times, he panics. He should trust you. Why did he trust you? He knows you won’t hurt him. But too many humans have said the same and done worse. You love him. Love is a dangerous word in the human realm. Such conflicting thoughts run amok in his head as he listens to you.

The truth is, Rafayel doesn’t really know what sort of life he wants with you. You both never made it far enough to even think about that. And now, when it finally seems like the universe is giving you both a chance, to see if being ripped apart because of your own priorities frustrates him. A part of him doesn’t want you or this human life. He wants Lemuria and Lemurians. Yet the moment that thought runs through his head, he laughs bitterly to himself because he knows that even if he’d manage to achieve that, he’d still not be satisfied. What was the point of such an accomplishment if there was no sun to bless them?

When Rafayel truly gets jealous it’s a reality check for both of you. For him it’s a reminder that you both made it this far. The path ahead has not been carved yet, there is still a chance. That he should still hope and fight because after centuries. Being with you feels is comforting, familiar, like wearing a glove. You both just slip back in each other’s lives as if you’ve never been apart. But what really shakes him is how accustomed he’d become to your loss. He’s spent too many years without you than with you. And he doesn’t know if he should let your in or let you go.

But when you talk to him. When you hold his face and call his name, he realizes that you are currently here, beside him, willingly. That you won’t abandon him. And while trusting you is still too hard for Rafayel, he knows that you are willing to protect whatever he does trust you with. So he apologizes, immediately, mumbling half-coherent reasons into your shoulder. He’s emotionally drained and just wants to be near you. He would prefer taking a nap, but is also okay doing something together or separately, just so long as he can feel you beside him.

[saigethearies]

saige’s terrortober presents…

guardian

when one of the actors at a haunted house attraction gets a little too handsy, megumi doesn’t hesitate to come to your aid.

megumi fushiguro x fem!reader

contents/warnings: non consensual groping (not from gumi), megumi and reader are in their early 20s, non-sorcerer!reader, violence, car sex, unprotected vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, praise, sir kink, protective!megumi, a little hint of feral!megumi

wc: 2.1k

18+ MINORS DNI

“come on, gumi, the next walk-through starts in five minutes!”

your boyfriend sighed as he let you pull him along towards the “haunted house” you had wanted to go to for the past three weeks. he didn’t really see the fun behind seeing a bunch of people pretend to be ghosts and demons when he fought (real) ones for a living, but he digressed. you didn’t share the same extraordinary profession that he did, so these types of attractions were still a spectacle of scary excitement and adrenaline for you. megumi couldn’t deprive you of the festive halloween experiences you sought out, nor would he ever pass up a chance to spend time with you.

thus, that is how he found himself being ushered into a hallway filled with plastic cobwebs, fake blood, and red lights everywhere.

your shoulders were tense, preparing for the inevitable jumpscare of an actor dressed to resemble a ghoul, zombie, or some other sort of terror. intertwining your fingers with the ravenette at your side, the two of you continued down the path.

he knew that the whole purpose of coming here was for you to get a little scare, but megumi still couldn’t resist the urge to squeeze your hand and keep you close. this was all make-believe, he knows better than anyone, but the nerves he could sense radiating off of you were still very much real.

you yelped when an actor jumped out at you from around the corner, special effects makeup covering his face that made it look as if he was covered in gnashes. jolting back, you felt megumi’s arm wrap around your waist, keeping you from taking a tumble towards the floor. the actor receded back into the darkness he had been hiding in, leaving you to try and calm your racing heart. megumi remained as blank faced as ever, not even phased in the slightest.

“oh my goodness,” you breathed, regaining your balance.

after a few more frights, the rest of the haunted house became easier to navigate because you knew what to expect. the jumpscares weren’t as alarming anymore, and you even found yourself starting to nervously laugh out of anticipation when you knew one was coming up. your giggles even had a smile coming onto your boyfriend’s face, his chest feeling warm at the sight of you having a good time.

running out of crimson colored hallways to walk down, the two of you were finally nearing the exit of the attraction. the double doors leading outside were left open, and you could see signage pointing towards a pumpkin patch and a corn maze. you gasped in delight.

“look, gumi, we can go pick our pumpkins out!”

you took off, dashing towards the exit in excitement. megumi sighed, figuring he’d catch up to you once the two of you were out of the haunted house.

unbeknownst to you both, there was one more actor hiding in the dark, a final fright for those who bravely made it to the end.

and unfortunately for you, this guy wasn’t only a creep because of his costume.

his breath heavy with the scent of alcohol, the actor smirked when he saw you trotting towards his hiding spot. megumi wasn’t in his line of sight yet, so he had no idea he was trailing behind.

‘a pretty little thing all alone in this place?’ the sleaze thought to himself. ‘must be my lucky day.’

you shrieked when the man jumped out at you, mentally cursing yourself for not staying on your guard until the very end. oh well, at least it's all just pretend-

you felt your body freeze when a pair of gloved hands attached themselves to your chest.

“damn, aren’t you fine,” disgustingly warm breath fanned against your ear, and you felt a true scream start to tear its way up your throat only to die on your tongue when the body pressed against your back was ripped away from you.

you watched in shock as megumi shoved your assailant up against the wall, sending his fist into his face once, then twice, then three times. he kept going.

“gumi!” you yelled, trying to pull your boyfriend out of his rage-filled trance. the guy had his hands up in surrender, pleads coming from behind his mask. the shikigami summoner, however, wasn’t letting up.

you finally ran up to him, grabbing onto his elbow before he can deliver another punch. “MEGUMI! i think he got the lesson.”

dark blue eyes blinked before turning to look down at you, a frown on your face. he took note of the tremors in your grip on his arm. megumi mentally kicked himself for not checking on you first. he always sought to improve his character, but whenever he saw your safety threatened he found himself reverting back to the violence that plagued his younger years.

“love,” he began slowly, concern etched into every corner of his face.

you sniffled. “can we just get out of here?”

the sorcerer let the creep fall to the ground, crumbling up like the trash he was. placing a gentle hand on the small of your back, your boyfriend led you away from the haunted house and towards the car.

he thought about telling the site’s management, but you were clearly still shaken, so he decided for your sake he’d get you into the comfort of his audi as soon as possible. he would still report the incident later, however. that man needed to face formal consequence. beating him wasn’t enough to satisfy megumi, who swore to himself every night you fell asleep in his arms and every morning you woke up still wrapped in them that he would keep you safe from anything.

he couldn’t help but feel like he failed at that tonight.

opening the passenger door for you, megumi helped you into your seat before closing you in and getting into the car himself. he immediately turned to you.

“are you alright?”

such a stupid question to ask. of course you weren’t, the misty hue of your eyes confirmed so. he couldn't think of the right words to say in this situation, but when those always failed him, megumi resorted to the method he could always depend on to better express himself: actions.

those always spoke louder, anyways.

he reached a hand out, placing it on your thigh before giving a comforting squeeze. he knew there was a chance you may not want to be touched right now, but if you had a problem with his affections he knew you’d make it known.

a sense of accomplishment washed over him when you placed your hand on top of his. “thank you, gumi.”

“you don’t need to thank me. it’s my responsibility to protect you.”

he almost made a comment about how he should have done a better job, but he held his tongue. right now it was about you. throwing himself a pity party would do nothing to lift your spirits.

“well, i still want to say thank you,” you said, a small smile coming onto your face as you shifted towards him. “my knight in shining armor deserves some gratitude.”

megumi hummed in acceptance, the two of you sitting in silence for a minute before he spoke again.

“i hope i broke his fucking nose.”

that earned a laugh from you, catching him by surprise. “all this time i thought gojo was making up all those stories about you in middle school, but i guess i was wrong.”

“whatever he told you, please forget.”

“you know, i dont think i want to,” you said with a smirk.

now that the distress of the situation had ebbed away some, your mind was able to ponder more on your boyfriend going full fight club on the guy. seeing him get aggressive like that was honestly…very sexy. you couldn’t really appreciate in the moment, but now reminiscing on the wild semblance in his eyes and the sheer force behind his hits had your thighs starting to press together.

megumi noticed the gesture when he felt his fingers become squished between your thighs. he raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

“do you want something from me?” he asked, the heat of your skin paired with the adrenaline from earlier sending his brain into overdrive.

you pouted your lip out at him. “want you to touch me, ‘gumi.”

“are you sure?”

“yes, sir. need you to make me feel better, please.”

the title made his cock twitch in his pants. the hand that had been resting on your thigh slowly began to glide up your skin, dipping under the hem of your skirt and gingerly tracing the edge of the lace covering your heat.

he saw you start to squirm in your seat, chest puffing out at the effect he had on your body. finally slipping a finger into your panties, his index drew slow circles around your clit.

your head tipped back against the seat, a breathy whine leaving you. the appendage doting on your bud then drifted down into your cunt, his middle finger joining as well. he pumped them at a steady fast, beginning to pick up speed once they started to reach deeper.

“fuck, that feels so good, sir!”

“yeah? ‘m glad, love.”

he could feel your pussy start to soak his fingers, the mess between your legs growing wetter by the second. it would probably get on the seat, but he could worry about that later. right now his sweet girl needed him.

you felt the coil in your gut begin to tighten, megumi’s fingers continuing to fuck you open. he knew how to use them so well, years of summoning his shikigami paying off with the most dexterous fingers you’ve ever had the pleasure of welcoming into your cunt.

thus, imagine your disappointment when you felt his hand detach from your heat.

before you could protest, you felt his arousal-coated fingers prod at your lower lip.

“clean them,” he gently commanded.

you did as you were told, taking the appendages into your mouth as your tongue swept up your own glaze. you released them with a pop.

“such a good girl.”

you let out a small squeak of surprise as you felt megumi easily lift you from your seat and bring you into his lap, chests pressed together.

“good girls deserve to cum on a cock, yeah?”

you nodded quickly, excitement rattling you at the thought of getting filled up.

megumi slid his pants down below his hips, freeing his aching dick from his boxers before pushing your thong to the side.

“sit on it, love.”

lowering yourself onto his cock, you moaned as you felt the familiar stretch. he always stuffed you so perfectly, the heat in your stomach already starting to pool at the sensation.

moving your head to rest in the crook of his neck, megumi placed both of his hands on your hips. he began to move you up and down on his lap as if you were weightless, jackhammering up into your pussy whenever he brought you back down. you practically screamed when you felt how deep he was going.

your boyfriend was panting. god, you always felt so perfect around him. he was never sure what he thought about the idea of fate or soulmates, but everytime you welcomed him into your cunt, he could have sworn you were made for each other.

his lovesick thoughts led his thrusts to become harder, megumi’s sole focus being to ensure you could feel how much you meant to him through every grip of his fingers, every breath from his lips, every plunge of your pelvises.

“i love you,” he whispered into your ear, eyes practically blown feral. “damn, i love you so much. forever and always. gonna keep you safe, gonna keep you happy- fuck.”

you mewled at all the pussydrunk confessions tumbling out of him. “love you, too, gumi! love you, love you- ah!”

his tip hitting that golden spot now, your legs starting to shake around his.

“if i ever see someone touch you again, i’m putting them six feet fucking under.”

“nng, sir!”

“you’re mine.”

the dam finally broke, your cunt clamping down on his dick as your orgasm tore through you as if it were a monsoon. the sensation of you creaming around him sent your boyfriend over the edge next, megumi filling you up as you continued to be flooded with pleasure.

the two of you sat there in content quiet, megumi running his hand up your back to try and soothe you as you both recovered. you lifted your head up, gazing at him with droopy eyes.

“did you mean it?”

his brow furrowed. “mean what?”

“putting someone six feet under. would you actually do it?”

he wrapped you in an embrace, bringing your tired body to rest against his.

“without hesitation.”

———

saige’s terrortober masterlist

[megwritesriddles]

No Ghosts ༊*·˚

18+ MDNI !!!

Pairing: Sebastian (Stardew Valley) x Fem! Reader / You

Summary: Kinktober 2024 Day 19 - Public sex. On the way back to the farm from the Spirit's Eve celebrations, Readers night takes a sudden but pleasurable turn.

Tags: Public sex, Unprotected sex, Against a tree, Dirty talk, Dom!Sebastian, Praise kink, Mild possessive behaviour, Established relationship, Hint of fluff, Very brief sense of fear.

Word count: 2.3k

Read it on ao3! | Masterlist

Authors note: Happy Hallowen!! This is mildly Halloween themed, Sebastian dresses as Ghostface but doesn't keep the mask on (sorry to my mask kink folks)!! Hope you like it anyway mwah ( ◕◡◕)っ ♡

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

You left the town square in a very good mood. You skipped down the path toward your farm, wishing the night could have lasted a little longer. The Spirit’s Eve festival had been fun, spending time with your friends was always enjoyable, but coupled with funny costumes and general merriment, you felt lighter than you had in a while. You’d had a little to drink, played games and eaten plenty of candy. Even Sebastian had cracked a smile every once in a while, although you supposed he liked the dark spooky atmosphere of the holiday and the skeletons. He found the skeletons quite fascinating, and you had stood there together watching them for quite a while, you sipping a pumpkin-spiced drink, his hand on your hip, holding you to his side. He’d dressed up as Ghostface, just wearing all black and carrying around a mask he occasionally put on to piss off some of the older townsfolk. They felt his costume was too scary for the children, but he’d just scoffed them off. Vincent had actually seemed to quite like it, but presumably because he didn’t have any context for the character. He’d found it funny and even asked to try on the mask, but Jodi had intervened.

As the lights of the town dimmed away behind you, you began to feel a little more uneasy. You didn’t usually stay out this late, other than in the mines, but that felt safer somehow, despite the literal monsters. You supposed city life had instilled a fear in you of walking alone in the dark that couldn’t quite be shaken, even in the safety of Pelican Town. You try to comfort yourself. Who exactly was going to jump out at you? The biggest creep in town was Clint, but he seemed preoccupied enough with Emily that he was likely to leave you alone and even if he wasn’t… would he really do something bad? You weren’t sure. You kept walking, getting gradually a little more jumpy. It seemed much darker than a normal night, a thick covering of clouds blocking out the light from the moon. It had been unnoticeable in the town square, with all the Jack-O-Lanterns and torches, but now that they were all gone, the true darkness was evident and rather frightening. You wonder a little pissily why Sebastian hadn’t offered to walk you home, he usually did when it was dark out, but he’d sort of disappeared not long after you’d announced you were headed home. You sigh to yourself, wondering if you should start a fight with him about it the next time you see him. You did usually insist he didn’t have to walk you home, maybe he’d finally listened, although it seemed an odd time to start, the scariest night of the year. You listen for the sounds of squirrels skittering past occasionally, making sure there are no louder noises in the eerie silence.

“Boo!” a loud voice shocks your blood cold, making you stumble backwards. Your head spins with fear for a moment as a dark figure jumps onto the path for a moment. Then you spot the Ghostface mask and scowl deeply.

“Sebastian!” you hiss. “Not fucking funny!” you place a hand on your chest, trying to calm your breathing. He laughs loudly, pulling the mask off and coming towards you, a shit-eating grin on his face as he drops it on the ground somewhere. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close, still chuckling lowly.

“You big scaredy cat,” he teases, leaning in to kiss your neck softly, feeling your still slightly pounding pulse beneath his lips. 

“Fuck off! I’m a lone woman walking around at night, of course I was scared,” you huff. He pulls back to look at you, biting his lip. 

“I didn’t think of that,” he admits, rubbing your sides softly. “I’m sorry, baby,” he hums, leaning back in to kiss your neck. “I’ll scare you in the daytime next time, yeah baby?”

“I hate you,” you grumble, feeling him grin into your neck in response. You can’t help but smile a little yourself. 

“No, you don’t baby,” he nips at the skin of your collarbone, careful not to leave a mark no matter how desperately he wants to. His hands rub up and down your sides slowly, mapping out the shape of you. He kisses up your neck to your jaw and finally to your lips, pulling you right up against him as your lips connect. You kiss back, tangling your hand into his black locks, pressing closer to him too. His hand settles on your lower back, using his other hand to grip the flesh of your ass, pulling you against him. He’s half-hard already, softly guiding you to rub against him. 

“Mmm, we should get back to mine,” you whisper, trying to detangle from his arms, but he holds you tight to him, growling softly. 

“I don’t want to wait,” he rumbles, moving in to kiss you again. He starts back you towards a wide sturdy tree.

“What? My place is literally– mmph– like two minutes away?” you mumble between sensual kisses, as he presses your back to the tree, only just out of view of the footpath. 

“Don’t care, need your pussy right now,” he whispers, reaching down to flick open the button of his jeans. Your mouth falls open into an ‘o’ shape, surprised by his demeanour. Even in the very dim light, you can see the deep lust in his eyes as he wrestles his jeans down. You suppose this path isn’t used by anyone but you very often… He interrupts your train of thought. “Come on, be a good girl and get those tights off for me,” he palms himself through his boxers, leaning in to kiss your neck again. You’re a little surprised by his neediness and stand motionless for a moment. His free hand reaches around and pats your ass. “Now, baby, the panties too,”

You spring into action, leaning down to pull down your patterned costume tights, fighting slightly against the constricting fabric, trying not to rip it. His hand settles into your hair, stroking softly while you fiddle around, his other hand still gently caressing his ever-hardening cock. Your tights and underwear finally fall around your ankles and you look up at him. He uses his hand in your hair to pull you in, kissing you again, passionate and open-mouthed, his tongue swirling around yours. Then, taking hold of your waist, he whirls you around and presses your front against the tree. You gasp, bracing your hand in front of your head so you’re not leaning your cheek onto the bark. Sebastian spots this and rustles around for a second, taking off his hoodie, leaving him in a worn band-tee underneath. He haphazardly folds up the plush garment and pulls you into him, positioning the hoodie so you can use it as a pillow against the tree. You lean back forward, your cheek now against it, relieved by the plush material and feeling a rush of arousal at his scent so powerful by your nose, cigarettes, cologne and a hint of a natural musk that is so distinctly his you could pick it out of a line-up. You nuzzle into the material, smelling it deeply as his hands flip up your skirt and knead the flesh of your ass. 

“That better baby?” he grunts, gripping your cheeks and spreading you open for his viewing pleasure. You nod. “Mmm, this perfect pussy, just begging to be filled with my cock,” he growls. “Tell me you need my cock,”

“Need your cock,” you mumble softly, shivering at the cool air against your overheated core. He grips your ass a little tighter, groaning pleasurably. 

“That’s my girl, so needy for me that you’ll let me fuck you on a public path, huh?” he taunts, sliding his cock slowly between your folds. “Do you like it? The idea that anyone could walk past and see us like this, know what a needy thing you are for me, how completely I have you undone?” He starts to slowly sink into your warmth, hissing. “Yeah? Do you want everyone to see how perfectly you take my cock? To see how needy I am for you? You want that don’t you baby?” he grunts, finally bottoming out, leaving you both panting. You shut your eyes, hiding your flushed face in the material of his hoodie. He grips your waist with one hand, his fingers digging into your soft flesh. His other hand comes up, pulling the neckline of your shirt down over your shoulder so he can suck a mark into your skin, somewhere you can keep it hidden during these colder fall months. His teeth pull gently at your skin as he starts to rock against you. You stutter out a moan, bracing your hands against the tree trunk. His hand moves to grope at your clothed breast as he slowly thrusts in and out of you. “You feel so perfect, you always feel so perfect– nnghh– fuck baby,” he groans, rocking into you a little faster. Your lips part and you let out soft moans with each of his thrusts, but he can tell you’re holding back on him. He slams forward suddenly, sheathing his whole length inside of you. You can’t help but let out a loud moan, quickly biting your lip in an attempt to stop it. “No, don’t you dare bite your lip,” he hisses, repeating the punishing thrust.

“Seb…” you whine loudly, your lip falling from between your teeth. Your body jerks forward with his movement and you vaguely feel the scratch of the bark through the material of your clothes, it oddly heightens the experience. In a vain attempt to muffle yourself, you press your face into the hoodie, breathing hard through your nose, but it doesn’t work. Sebastian won’t let you off that easily, keeping up his wild pace, coaxing louder and louder sounds from you. 

“Let the whole town hear who you belong to, you’re not ashamed of me, are you?” he taunts, biting down on your shoulder, making you whimper.

“Th-that’s not– ahh!- fair,” you struggle to get the words out, moans springing forward involuntarily from your chest as he fucks into you. He wraps an arm firmly around your middle, using the leverage to ram even deeper into you. You wail out in pleasure, scratching slightly at the trunk of the tree. 

“Taking me so fucking well, baby,” he grunts. “Perfect, perfect, perfect,” his pace becomes faster and a little more erratic. You know what’s coming and the thought makes you moan out once more. His hand slams into the tree trunk above you for balance, fucking into you with reckless abandon. “My dirty girl, always willing to do anything just to get my cock buried in you,” his voice shakes with the intensity of the pleasure coursing through him. You cry out repeatedly, both in response to the snaps of his hips against yours as well as the words spilling from his mouth. His arm around your middle tightens as he feels your legs start to weaken and give out. “Gonna come, pretty girl?” he growls. 

“Yes,” you sob desperately, not even able to keep yourself quiet anymore, despite having your face pressed into his hoodie. You can only pray your voice isn’t carrying into town, hopefully Harvey shut his windows tonight. 

“Say my name, let everyone know who is making you come!” he demands harshly, his thrusts never once relenting. 

“Seb!” you wail, feeling him nip your shoulder chastisingly. You moan loudly, knowing what he wants. “S-Sebastian!” you cry, struggling through the syllables, but it leaves him satisfied nonetheless.

“Good girl, come for me,” he orders. Like a damn breaking, you scream once more, your walls constricting around him. He growls loudly in your ear. “Yeah that’s it, come on my cock,” you pulse around him, driving him to bury himself into you to the hilt and empty himself into you with a furious roar. He holds you tightly to him, panting as he comes down, his lips ghosting across your neck. Now that the arousal and physical activity has ceased, you both start to feel cold, the nippy midnight air infiltrating your little bubble of pleasure. He withdraws from you slowly, making you both shiver a little. “Mmm, that was fun, wasn’t it baby?” he chuckles, sounding a little winded. You just nod, carefully straightening up from against the tree, his arm still around your middle. You move his hoodie, brushing off some of the debris from the other side and your palms. He sighs happily from behind you. “The whole world knows who you belong to now,” he teases, nipping your earlobe. He pulls back so that the both of you can readjust your clothing. You carelessly pull up your tights, not bothering to adjust them properly, watching as he tucks himself away and pulls up his jeans. “Am I coming to yours?” he enquires, taking his hoodie from you as if he’s about to put it on but then wrapping it around your shoulders, tying the sleeves in the front to secure it. 

“Sure if you like, I’ve got some more pumpkin soup from the carving that I probably won’t finish on my own,” you sigh, leaning into his arms as he embraces you, pressing a kiss to your temple. 

“Pumpkin soup and a beautiful girl to hold by the fire…” he muses, littering a few kisses down your cheek. “I think I would be insane to say no to that,”

“Let’s go then,” you start to move sluggishly, he pulls you back for a moment. 

“Can’t forget my mask so I can scare you in the morning,” he grins. You scoff and roll your eyes, swatting his chest, making him chuckle. He lets go of you for a moment to grab the long-since discarded Ghostface mask off the path, shaking some dust off of it.

“I hate you,” you grumble as he returns to your side, slipping his arm around your waist, his hand resting on your hip.

“No, you don’t” 

“No,” you admit with a fond smile, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “I don’t,”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

xoxoxo

[buckets-and-trees]

Welcome Home, Pumpkin [spiced]

Characters/Pairings: Lloyd Hansen x curvy Female!Reader Word Count: 1.9k Summary: Bad ethics. Zero impulse control. This is what everyone says about him. What will it mean for you tonight?

Content/Warnings: dubious consent, soft!dark story, use of pet name "Pumpkin," explicit smut (fingering, unprotected vaginal intercourse), orgasm denial, groping, light choking, bondage

Notes: This is the second of three in a set of short stories with Lloyd served three ways - soft, soft!dark, and dark. The three feature the same setting, overlapping themes, shared thoughts, and bits of dialogue. Spiced is the soft!dark version.

sugar pumpkin | smashed pumpkin

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You shut the door behind you and sigh, happy to be home after a long day - a long week, really. 

You slip your shoes off, hang your bag on the hook by the door, and turn on some music before making your way down the hall to your bedroom, ready to change from your professional clothes to something comfy to lounge in the rest of the evening. 

You jump when a deep, serious voice you aren’t expecting says, “Welcome home, Pumpkin.”

Your heart rockets into your throat, and you grip the doorframe. “Lloyd Hansen!”

He chuckles, rising from the spot he’d been perched on the edge of the bed. 

“You’re not supposed to be here.” 

He makes a show of bowing slightly, “And yet, here I am.”

You hesitate in the doorway, studying the face of the man you are now so familiar with. The steel blue eyes, the sharp jawline, the ridiculous mustache you hoped to avoid indefinitely. 

He looks you up and down slowly, then sits back on the bed. “Did you think I would really be stuck in a Lithuanian prison?”

You narrow your eyes slightly and chew the inside of your cheek. His eyes study you as much as you’re studying him, and you don’t want to give anything away. 

“Aw, you did. That’s cute,” he says, voice dripping in saccharine sweetness. “You should’ve known I’d be able to work myself out of there in two or three days, at most.”

You shrug. “A girl can hope.”

“Only one night, by the way, since I know you won’t ask,” he says, clearly wanting to boast. 

“And that was six months ago,” you counter. “I finished the job and got the paycheck.”

“The job might be done, but we have unfinished business, Pumpkin. And it’s more fun surprising you like this when you thought you’d never see me again, isn’t it?” he simpers. 

He might have been biding his time to drop in on your life again, and you can sense he’s eager, a bit impatient, but you also sense he will play this out the way he wants now that the two of you are in the same room together again.

And you hate the way you’ve been drawn to this man since the day you two first crossed paths. He is dangerous and untrustworthy. You operate in the daylight and occasionally step into the shadows, but he lives in the dark, revels in it. 

“Are you going to tell me what you’re keeping from me? Why you took the contract in Kaunas in the first place?” he asks, lifting his chin just a fraction. 

And oh that look does something to you - the delicious swoop in your stomach that made you weak in Eastern Europe and traitorously eager for him now. 

“No,” you finally answer. Slowly, you take measured steps toward him. 

“Fair enough. But I might get under your skin enough to change your tune, wind you up, have you singing all sorts of secrets for me.”

“How much time did you spend thinking up that line? The imagery, the alliteration? Impressive.”

“Not the only thing that’s impressive about me,” he responds without a second thought.

You scoff, but there is an impertinent flutter in your chest you try to tamp down. He talks - a lot - but from the brief time you were in each others’ orbit in Lithuania, you learned he could back up his bluster with brains and brawn. A dangerous player on the board.

“How much time did spend you think about my fingers deep in your pussy like they were in the closet in that day in Kaunas?”

His words hang in the air, a bold challenge that sends a shiver down your spine. Your mind immediately flashes back to the last day in Lithuania, when you had been alone, hiding in a closet and his fingers had boldly started to explore your body. You can almost feel the heat of his touch, his breath on your neck, and his hard body pressed against your back like they were that day. The memory floods your senses, the smell of wood and dust, the creaking of the floorboards as the hired goons patrolled up and down the hallway just on the other side of the door. And now, here he is, asking how much time she had spent thinking about it.

You couldn't deny to yourself the way your body responds to his words, his presence, craving that same intense pleasure again, but you can deny it to him. You have to.

“I didn’t want you then, and I don’t want you now,” you reply simply and walk over to your dresser, bypassing him on the bed. Methodically, you begin to take off your necklace, and then your watch, as if he’s not there.

“Want, need, crave…”

“Lloyd!” You gasp because those words are murmured directly in your ear, as Lloyd has moved with silent precision right behind you. 

“…those are all different things,” he says. He presses his hard body up against your back, pressing his pelvis up against your ass, knocking you roughly into the drawers, pinning you. “You may not want this, but need it? Crave it?”

“No,” you whimper when he grinds against you again. 

“Mmm, you made some pretty, soft sounds when we were hidden in the dark before. Wonder what sounds I can get you to make now that we’re not trying to be discreet.”

“We’re not trying to be anything,” you argue, squirming against him. 

“Anything with labels, no, definitely not,” he agrees. “But you’re itching for it, aren’t you, Pumpkin?” 

One of his large hands gropes your breast, and the other moves to your throat. He squeezes in both places, and you groan, a shiver ripping through you. 

He chuckles, “I see we like that.”

“No,” you whimper. 

“Boring!” he barks. 

In one swift motion, Lloyd hefts you up, flips you around and has you on the bed pinned beneath him, body pressing into yours. He growls into your mouth as he claims you in a filthy kiss. He props himself up slightly on one arm, and his other hand reaches to tear the front of your shirt open, rending the fabric in two. 

You look up at him, chest heaving, waiting with bated breath. 

He unbuttons the top of your pants and drags down the zipper, all the while looking in your eyes. 

“I find you wet, and I’m not stopping,” he insists, tone low, calculated. 

You could press your thighs together, try to squirm away from him, but he’s too strong, and you know what he’s going to find. You could even turn your head and look away, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction. 

His fingers dip into your panties, and he goes straight for the cut of you, slick and wet for him, and slips a finger inside. 

“I knew it,” he whispers. His thumb presses against your clit, rubbing in slow circles.

You moan, arching into his touch, unable to resist the pleasure he’s giving you.

“Such a sensitive little thing,” he murmurs, adding another finger and thrusting them inside you.

You wriggle and writhe beneath him, unable to control your body’s response to his touch. He watches with dark satisfaction as you lose yourself in the moment.

“Lloyd,” you moan his name, and he chuckles softly.

“You sound so sweet when you say my name like that,” he coos, increasing the speed of his fingers inside you.

Your breath hitches as your orgasm approaches.

But then he pulls his thick fingers away, and a whine escapes your lips before you can stop it. Your body surges up, pelvis seeking his.

"You'll give me what I want," Lloyd purrs, his voice low and dangerous. He brings his slick fingers to his mouth and sucks them clean, maintaining eye contact with you the entire time. The sight makes you shiver involuntarily.

"Never," you breathe, but your voice lacks conviction.

Lloyd smirks, clearly not believing you. "We'll see about that."

He leans down, pressing his body against yours once more. His lips brush against your ear as he whispers, "I always get what I want. And right now, I want you."

Before you can respond, he captures your lips in another searing kiss. His hands roam your body, touching, teasing, igniting a fire within you that you've tried so hard to extinguish. You hate how easily he can affect you, how your body responds to his touch without your permission.

Lloyd's voice is a low rumble against your ear as he pins you to the bed. "You'll tell me everything I want to know."

You struggle to catch your breath, still reeling from the sudden loss of his touch. "I told you, I'm not giving you anything."

He smirks, trailing a finger down your cheek. "Oh, but you will. Your body's already betraying you. I think you’ll give me everything."

You think there’s a possibility he could end up being right, because while you didn’t think of him much after Lithuania, the truth is you did think of him. You thought of him on some of the nights alone in your bed when you had your best orgasms.

"What's the real reason you took that contract in Kaunas?" he demands.

You clench your jaw, refusing to answer. Lloyd's hand slides back to your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp.

"Come on, Pumpkin. Make this easy on yourself."

Your breath catches as his fingers tighten ever so slightly around your throat. The pressure sends a thrill through you, desire boiling in your belly despite your best efforts to resist.

"I won't tell you anything," you manage to choke out, your voice strained.

Lloyd's eyes darken with a mix of frustration and arousal. "So stubborn," he murmurs. "But I did hope you’d choose the hard way."

He takes off his belt and binds it around your forearms. He yanks the clothing completely down and off your bottom half, and then he’s between your legs, cock out, and pushing his thick, blunt head against your entrance. He leans down, his breath hot against your ear. "Last chance to tell me what I want to know."

You turn your head, refusing to meet his gaze. "Go to hell," you spit out.

He chuckles darkly. "Oh, we're already there, Pumpkin."

With one powerful thrust, he buries himself inside you. You cry out, overwhelmed by the sudden fullness. Lloyd groans, his fingers digging into your hips.

"Fuck, you feel even better than I thought you would.”

You moan and push your bound forearms at his chest.

Lloyd growls, grabs your wrists, and pins them above your head in one of his giant hands.

Then he proceeds to fuck you.

Slowly.

He gives you what you won’t admit you want.

Over and over again he gives it to you, until you’re boneless, voice hoarse, throat raw, limbs aching, babbling, but somehow still fighting against giving the one piece of information he’s seemingly desperate to have.

When dawn is about to break, dazed and delirious with pleasure, you wonder which of you will break first - or if neither of you will.

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

all Welcome Home, Pumpkin stories

Aaaaah! So with the second one, what do you think? Was this anything like what you were expecting? Did you catch the repeated lines?

...and will you be ready for the third and darkest of the three?!

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[smilelikeacheshirecat]

Lost and Found

Pairing: Bridget Hearts x fem!reader

Genre: mostly fluff, mention of bully

note: OC name Cherise aka daughter of Cheshire Cat

word count: 1.2k

Summary: Bridget finds herself lost in the woods after the vks were chasing her and had gotten hurt. As she tries to find her way back to the academy, she had cross pass to a past friend

"Come out Bridget" Uliana called sweetly. "We were just having a little fun right" she said followed by a cackling laugh along with her followers; Harry and Morgie as they continue looking for the princess who's hiding somewhere.

They were at it again, bullying poor Bridget when all she wanted was to be friends. And like always, in exchange for her kindness, she gets tormented by the vks but that still doesn't stop her from befriending them and it seems like she won't stop until she does but for now she must hide.

Bridget then notice they were getting closer on her hiding place and the only escape is the window with no other hiding place unless she makes a run for it through the forest.

With no other choice, she opened the window and bolted towards the woods. Just as she hide behind the safety of the trees she saw the vks passed her previous hiding place before looking somewhere else to find her.

Knowing she wasn't safe yet, Bridget decided to walk further into the forest just to let the vks cool down and eventually forget about her. 

"They won't look for me in the forest right?" She said to herslef.

But as time passed, little did she notice how unfamiliar her surroundings has started to be. She doesn't know where she is, everything looks the same and it's no help that the sun was nearing to set.

"Oh where am I?" Bridget asked herself, looking left and right.

At first she didn't thought too much of it since she can still see the academy but she went a further into the forest and now she's lost. And now, the sun is almost setting and she's not one that enjoys the dark. There were all sorts of path leading to who knows where. In wonderland there may be signs that don't make sense but she's quite familiar with but the woods here don't have any.

Just when she thought all hope is lost, the princess heard something, just far from a distance where she stands. She heard someone . . . humming? This deep in the forest? Well she's not really in the place to judge since she herself is in the forest. But unlike her, she's already panicking as the sky began to darken and yet this person is humming like they haven't had a care in the world.

Bridget followed the soft sound until she finds herself to a large tree and within its branches was a girl, lying with its . . . tail? swinging back and fort.

It was a girl but with a fluffy tail and cat-like ears on top of its soft blue hair. The girl was just humming a soft tune as if lulling herself to sleep. But what really intrigued her was the colour of its fur. It's familiar with its soft colour pattern of soft blue with pink strips. An unlikely colour for normal cats here but quite normal in wonderland to one particular person she knows.

And then it hit her.

"Cherise?" Bridget called out to the cat on the tree.

"Hmmm" the cat-like-girl responded, not even bothered to open her eyes. But she's already of her presence.

Cherise Cat, unlike her father, Cheshire Cat —who likes to prank unsuspecting people in his woods—she likes to relax in her tree and away from people that would bother her. But she still entertains anyone who crosses her path. Especially this little prissy pink Princess of Hearts.

"Oh thank goodness you're here." Bridget let out a sigh of relief as she approaches the girl and her tree.

Cherise open one of her eyes now fully awake from her nap. She stretches her limbs before facing the princess.

"My, my, what curious steps have led you here? Were you searching for something, or did something find you? But then, does it matter which came first"

Cherise was always one that speaks in such riddle manner which to anyone else might find quite annoying but Bridget like it whenever the two would hold their rare conversation.

"I'm kinda lost and I was hoping yo—" Bridget admitted.

"One is never truly lost if they're heading somewhere, even if that somewhere is just beyond reach. But tell me, are you truly lost, or do you merely wish to see what's just out of sight?"

"Well . . . ” Bridget look down on we fiddling fingers as she recalls the events why she was lead to the forest.

"I was just out going for a little walk but then I got confuse where the path I came from since—" before she could continue Cherise suddenly appeared before her, just a few feet close, her grin still in full display. To others it would frighten them instantly but Bridget was quite use to it and honestly find it comforting.

"You don't have to lie to me princess but I wouldn't force you to tell me either" the cat-like girl said as she levitates off the ground and above Bridget's head. It wasn't that she wasn't interested but she could see how uncomfortable the princess was in sharing so she let it be. "You'd need only to follow me" Cherise said before she starts to floats along a path.

The princess smiled grateful for not pushing her to open up and followed quickly.

Along the walk you Cherise wasn't even flying that fast but Bridget was falling behind. She looks back to the girl below and notice the faint limping movements on the girl's left foot.

The cat tilted her head before vanishing into thin air.

"Cherise!" Bridget called out, panic arise again when she saw the cat disappear. She was about to run but stop when she felt soft hand on her leg, she looks down and find the grinning cat inspecting her leg closely.

"Well that won't do" Cherise said before conjuring a bandage and gently wrap the swollen foot.

The gesture and how gentle Cherise was being made the princess blush but let the cat-like girl do as she please.

When the cat was done she disappeared again and reappear right in front of her with her hands stretch out. "This is as far as you go" she said. As much as she likes Bridget's company, she wont let her limp all the way back to school.

The statement made Bridget confuse since it seems like they're still deep inside the forest. But nevertheless she took the cat's hand. Cherise's hand was soft and warm but before she could further speculate the touch.

Cherise then pulled the princess close then twirl her around, evaporating both her and the princess. Bridget was shock from the motion but then when she compose herself, she realized that they were back at the school and in front of her dorm room.

The cheshire cat had teleport them back to the school in just a second.

"What the . . . " she turns to face the girl who was now floating just above her, with her famous cheshire grin still on her face.

Bridget notice that Cherise was slowly disappearing again but before she could, the princess suddenly blurted. "Thank you" as she gave her a smile of her own.

Cherise grins widen, she reach to the princess' hand and left a light kiss before her body disappear, leaving Bridget alone to rest. "Until the next time princess" the cat's voice fades along with her presence leaving only her smile before it completely disappear. 

[ashs-cardboard-box]

An Odd Consolation

~ Sebastian Solace/GN!Reader

~ (Physical) Hurt/(Reluctant) Comfort

~ Platonic

~ 2.3k words

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How long has it been since you’ve gotten a first-aid kit? Five floors? Ten? You were starting to lose track. After an encounter with what felt like Jesus Christ himself punishing you for being an Expendable, your head felt all fuzzy and distracting. Though, realistically, it was Eyefestation paired with a bad crossing from the Good People and a sprinkle of face burns from a steaming pipe. Not fun!

Large gashes paint your chest, just from the claws of the Z-96. The skin on your face felt tight as a result of your painful first degree burns. The worst part about this program was the pain. Sure, you can die and respawn which was cool..you guessed.. but getting mowed down by an angler variant? Or getting electrocuted? Or the puddles of void mass crammed inside the lockers? Torn to shreds by wall dwellers? It all hurt terribly. Only to be cursed to wake up again, with Sebastian right in your face, and do it all over again– Unless you wish to be blown up, of course.

You weren’t even collecting data anymore. Your, now torn, jumpsuit had long been dried since the last flooded path you managed to stumble upon, which further supports your theory that whatever wet warmth is sticking the fabric to your skin, is the blood from your wounds. Clutching your chest in a self-hug of sorts to prevent any more blood from spilling out, albeit unsuccessfully, you force yourself to keep going.

Every time you stop for too long to catch your breath, the intercom chimes overhead, with the same staff voice telling you – threatening you – that you need to move forward, lest you want to be detonated where you stand. So, you push forward.

One wobbly step after the other into door, after door, after flooded hallway, after door. Only stopping to hide in a locker, hide from turrets, or to dive as quickly as you possibly can into another room to hide from any angler that even remotely sounds like Pandemonium.

You were tempted to just give up and open up your vulnerabilities to the next entity that wanted your head on a spike. That was your best option after all. A bit more pain to finally make it all go away for a while? Before you wake up again, that is. A new start..sounded frustrating, but so damn enticing.

However, you’re pulled from your thoughts when a vent is pushed open on its own. The metal grate clatters loudly against the concrete floor right at your feet, followed by a hushed “over here!”. You’d completely forgotten about Sebastian in your misery. The angler-mutant-thing that always managed to find where you died, bring you back to life, and borderline insult you for your performance. You weren’t sure if he was always watching you through the security cameras or if he was getting reports from the other monsters somehow, but you couldn’t care at the moment.

Stealing a quick glance around the dark room, spotting a few Squiddles lingering in the shadows, you’re focused on the two doors in the room, both key-card locked. The first, the navi-path interface sparked, despite the green numbers telling you “027”. You can already guess that Z-96 is behind it and Painter has infected the interface. The second door reads “049”, which makes much more sense to your pain-addled brain. You vaguely remember Sebastian giving a rough estimate to where his shop is located. Somewhere around fifty?

Dropping down onto your knees a bit too roughly, causing blunt pain to your kneecaps – hardly protected by the flimsy knee pads Urbanshade provided – you steal a cautious glance behind you for wall dwellers before crawling towards the vent. One arm supports most of the weight of your front half, as the other cradles your chest wounds. You feel like you can cry out of relief at the flicker of Sebastian’s lure, causing the room to illuminate.

“Welcome back, frien- eugh..” He starts. Comforting, you think sarcastically with a subtle roll of your eyes. Offering him a tightlipped smile as you stand up, gritting your teeth from the strain of your wounds as your muscles struggle to keep you upright. “What..happened to you?” Sebastian inquires, slightly judgemental, with a tilt of his head. His three eyes follow your each and every move. Watching as you silently shuffle across the small space, right towards his tail. Fully locked onto the medkit strapped to the appendage.

Stuffing your hand into the deep pockets of your jumpsuit and pulling out what little amount of data you have. A handful of USB sticks and some soggy files… equivalent to only ninety bucks. God damn it. Your lack of proper data hunting had come to bite you in the ass. With a sigh, you opt to just buy a battery with what little options you actually have. Your flashlight was running a bit low anyways.

Haphazardly tossing a few folders and USB sticks on the floor for Sebastian to pick up, you trudge up to the desk directly to the right of Sebastian. Several DNA casings rest atop it, illuminated by a small lamp, Several different colors for, what you can imagine are, all sorts of different species. The large document that you know belongs to Sebastian practically taunts you to read it, but you shift your gaze back to the batteries. Reaching forward to grab one with a bloodied hand, only to pause when a large, pointed claw pokes you in the shoulder nearly pushing you over. “Are you not gonna fix that?” Sebastian prompts as he tugs his four-clawed hand away from you, clasping it back over his left, watching silently as you fumble, catching yourself on the desk. He tuts at the bloody print left behind as you set your palms flat onto the dull-white surface. “Don’t have enough data..” You grumble tersely, shifting your feet better underneath yourself as your knees threaten to buckle. Snatching the battery off of the corner of the desk, you slip your hand into your pocket and fish out your flashlight. Flipping it over and trying to twist the bottom of it off, struggling only slightly with slippery hands but you manage, sliding the battery into its compartment and twisting the small cap back on. Sebastian is silent, for some reason. Usually, there was some smart ass comment about how he doesn’t give credit or insulting your lack of funds…but there’s nothing. 

His eyes feel like they’re piercing into your soul as he stares down at you. You don’t pay attention to him. He’ll be there..just like always. Tucking your flashlight away, you grab the blue keycard off of the desk and turn back towards the vent with intent to leave Sebastian’s shop. 

That was until you feel two large claws on your upper back as Sebastian grabs ahold of the slack of your torn jumpsuit. Picking you up by the fabric with a humiliating ease, as if you were a kitten being held up by its scruff.

“How stupid are you?” He scolds as he sets you down on his tail. Your boots almost slip against his scales, unused to the uneven surface beneath you, but Sebastian, with an annoyed sigh, grabs you as gently as he can muster, setting you on the ground again inside the inner curve of his tail to prevent your…idiotic…self from dying over some dumb mistake.

“It’s the least you could do..apart from not dying, that is.” Sebastian mutters under his breath, chuckling at his own remark. Using his two left arms, he unfastens the first-aid kit from the straps around his tail, holding it in place. It’s too damn small in his claws, so he hands it off to you. Setting it, rather roughly, in your arms.

Stunned, you hesitate. What was he playing at? He would never give you free stuff. In fact, he would probably shoot you if you even asked. Staring down at the medical kit, jaw slightly agape. Sebastian huffs, plucking the kit from your hands again and flicking off the top with his...thumb? “You idiot…” He grumbles, dumping the contents onto his large palm, handing it down to you. The plastic lid and container tossed aside uselessly. A thick roll of gauze, bandages, skin tape, epinephrine, burn cream, antiseptic wipes..the usual insides. You raise your gaze up to meet Sebastian’s own, much more impatient one. Slowly reaching out and taking the gauze into your hands, grabbing a hold of the loose end and strapping it to your side, pinching it down beneath your fingers to your ribs. Pulling the roll back around your back, switching hands to get the other side, before completely around your chest. It fucking stings..bad. You can feel your blood trying to soak through the fibrous material, subsequently sticking it to your wound. But, you know it’s for the best. Trying to avoid Sebastian’s critical eye as you work, having to pause for a moment due to an ache in your bicep muscles from the repetitive motion. “Why are you helping me?” You question warily. Your voice causes Sebastian’s ear fins to flick every so slightly. Shrugging noncommittally, he sets down the extra materials on his tail in front of you, leaving it up for grabs as you need it.

“You needed it, didn’t you?” Sebastian scrutinized, inspecting the ring on his third hand, so he’s not creepily watching you bandage yourself. “That’s… not what I asked.” You huff, finally getting your chest tissue and ribs covered up. Looking up at Sebastian as he skims the small shop, like he hadn’t seen it before. Not-so-subtly moving his left hand down, using his claw to cut off the spare gauze attached to the roll, allowing you the proper amount you need.

“I know.” He states. “And I don’t care.” You hum suspiciously, but don’t push it. He was helping you out for free, why would you complain? Pinning down the loose gauze strand to your side once again, you use your free hand to finagle the edge of the skin tape, yanking it unceremoniously to grab a bit more slack you can actually use. Silently lifting it up by the edge, letting the roll freely dangle, wordlessly asking Sebastian to cut it as well.

Surprisingly, he complies. Swiping a claw against the tape, freeing it from the roll, causing it to hit the floor at your feet. Awkwardly adjusting the strap to prevent it from sticking to itself, you can pin down your gauze.

“Sit.” Sebastian demands, gingerly tugging on the back of your jumpsuit, causing you to lose balance and tumble backwards, landing right on your ass. It hurts a bit, but the pain quickly subsides. Your back pressed up against his firm tail, tilting your head back to be able to stare up at him. “What?” you question, only to be met with silence. He ignores you completely, but he doesn’t let you get up. Tucking his third hand up underneath your chin, keeping your head tilted up towards him. The coldness of his ring against your skin causes it to prickle with goosebumps, but you don’t mind much. Peering down at your half-burned face, his claw accidentally digs into a blister, causing you to hiss in pain. You didn’t really plan to do anything about the burn, just wanting your bleeding to stop, but Sebastian had other plans. “Sit.” He repeats firmly, as if you were going to get up and scurry off. His second left hand grabs ahold of the small tube of burn cream, puncturing it with ease before spreading a small amount on the length of his claw between the first knuckle and the second. Using the blunt side to massage the cream into your face, all while holding your jaw like an uncooperative pet.

Sitting still, you allow Sebastian to cover your burns. It’s an action neither of you are particularly used to, but neither try to jerk away from the other. With a sigh, you relax against him, closing your eyes. His skin isn’t particularly soft, feeling more like the grit of a cat’s tongue, but he seems to take more caution around it. Sebastian’s not exactly warm either, but he’s comfortable, at least. “Why’re you helpin’ me..?” You mumble, pulling your knees up to your chest to get a bit more cozy against the floor. You can feel your lower back tingling slightly as it begins to go numb, but shifting more will only cause more pain. “Because you lack the self-preservation skills to do it yourself.” Sebastian grunts, more focused on coating your face in petroleum jelly rather than his responses. Removing his hand from your face and draping it over you, making you feel incredibly small. His ear fins fluttering at the sound of an angler screeching as it rushes down the hall, searching for you. You hum monotonously in acknowledgement, subconsciously tensing at the sound, despite knowing it wouldn’t be able to reach you through the vent. “You’re not falling asleep on me. You still have things to do.” He states firmly, but he makes no actual effort to move you away from him. Pleased with the coverage on your face, Sebastian finally pulls his hand away, wiping the remaining residue on your jumpsuit. “‘m not.” You agree, but you know you’re probably lying.

You never really realize how exhausted you are until you’re on the verge of tears from pain alone and forced to keep moving. Kept on edge, stressed to the end of your wits. You knew you should get going. This was weird. Not to mention, Sebastian was usually an asshole..but you don’t move. Readjusting yourself underneath his large hand, acting as a blanket, you curl up into the curve of his tail, resting your head against it.

“Don’t let me get eaten..” You slur in your exhaustion, earning a small hum from Sebastian, not exactly giving you any sort of indication if he would or wouldn’t. Instead, he rests his thumb atop your head, moving it ever-so-slightly back and forth over your hair in a “petting” motion. He would probably charge you double next run, but as you began to fall asleep on him, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. At least you weren’t dead.

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Hi gang I'm back X3 (he says with the intention to disappear for another decade)

Random fic drop !! I have like. 82 rdr fics open rn </3 procrastination is my best friend

[omgpoindexter]

“It’s going to rain.”

Dex looks up.

Neither he or Nursey have spoken in the last hour, seated in a comfortable silence on the front porch. It’s been the sort of day that makes it uncomfortable to talk, anyway; there’s been a heavy heat smothering them for almost a week now. It makes them antsy and annoyed, so they’ve resorted mostly to silence in a way that would never have happened their freshman year. It’s a development in maturity resulting in long silences that frustrate Chowder and impress Bitty.

Dex is the kind of guy that knows when the rain is coming. He always has been - years of hot, sticky summers on the lobster boat have drilled it into him - but it’s Nursey that squints up at the clouds and makes the statement.

“Hmm,” Dex says, which is neither an agreement or disagreement. Nursey doesn’t seem to notice.

Instead, he cocks his head to one side and smiles up at the approaching dark clouds. “It’s gonna be the kind of rain that makes people take the bus,” he says absently.

Dex frowns reflexively, but inside he’s softly pleased. It’s such a Derek sentence, in its simplicity and its observation. Nursey, however, catches the frown and raises a cool eyebrow. He doesn’t know Dex is gently, sweetly analysing his words.

“Why do you say it like that?” Dex asks, to explain himself before Nursey points out his reflex frown. “The kind of rain that makes you take the bus? Just say it’s a lot of rain.”

Nursey blinks at him, surprised. “I don’t know,” he says after a moment. “I like thinking about it in people terms. It’s more fun.”

“People terms?” Dex asks him. He thinks he knows what Nursey means, but he likes the explanation.

“Yeah,” Nursey shrugs, looking out into the street. The clouds are dark and heavy above them. “People will rush to their cars, or run to bring the laundry in - and if you weren’t sat right here, you’d do it too.”

Dex, surprised, laughs. Nursey looks over at him. He’s smiling a little, and there are crinkles by his eyes.

Then comes a low rumbling noise that echoes through the streets; a clap of thunder quickly follows. Nursey looks away and back at the sky just in time to see it open, and the rain starts, as he said it would.

Dark spots begin to litter the sidewalk and the garden path, rain drumming on the porch roof. Dex hears Bitty shut the kitchen windows somewhere in the Haus behind them.

There’s a shriek from a house a few doors down that makes them both jump. A girl Dex vaguely recognises sprints past them and hurries into her car. Dex looks at Nursey, expecting to see him looking smugly back over at him, but his eyes are fixed on the sky.

He watches Nursey analyse the clouds for a moment.

Dex can imagine the beginnings of a poem forming in his mind: something atmospheric and melancholy that Dex will try to understand but won’t quite, something that encapsulates Derek Nurse in a way Dex wants to be able to do but isn’t quite there yet.

“I guess you’re right,” Dex says, smiling. “Maybe I would.”

[kairiscorner]

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ A RESPONSIBLE OLDER BROTHER...

🍰 genre: fluff ~ !

✒️ word count: 1068

💭 summary: you never thought you'd cross paths with someone who once caught your eye in high school, much less as his younger brother's elementary school teacher.

🍥 author's note: ngl i feel like something like this alr exists out there, i just don't know if someone alr made something like this, so pls lemme know 😭😭😭 and i had no idea what exactly to call this au, but basically, choso and yuuji are half brothers and choso's completely human; they have a wide age gap, but choso's very close to yuuji and is an amazing older brother to him here (he's very involved in his life and supports him so much !!) AND I'M SORRY I MADE KENJAKU YUUJI'S MOM BY DEFAULT 😭😭😭 ik he's also technically choso's dad, but i had to fit the half siblings thing in somewhere TT

"excuse me," spoke a raspy voice from behind you. turning around, you see a tall man with dark, chin length hair and smoky eyeshadow looking at you; he sort of towering over you, coming off as slightly intimidating. "ah, yes?" you asked in a soft voice, forcing a smile. "um... i'm here to pick up yuuji itado—" "big brother!" the little boy's high pitched voice called out for him from within the classroom.

like a little tornado, yuuji slipped out of the classroom and embraced his older brother by the legs, yapping to him a mile a minute about how fun making the origami animals and finger painting were in class today. the man chuckled and pat his younger brother by the head, taking him into his arms and carrying him. "that's great, yuuji, but slow down..." he advised his younger brother, giving him a piggy back ride.

you couldn't help but smile at the brotherly affection yuuji showed for his older brother. "so you're the one yuuji keeps bragging about in class..." you say in a sweet voice, admiring how patient he is with yuuji. the man's eyes go a little wide, and across his face, a reddish blush appears on his cheeks. "well, um... i didn't realize my little brother spoke so highly of me..." "he does, all the time!" you explained, making the man blush a little more as the toddler yuuji played with his older brother's hair.

"say, sir, um, might i know your name? just in case, y'know, security might ask who picked yuuji up next time?" "um, kamo, choso kamo," he introduced himself in a low voice, with you raising your eyebrows at the familiar name. "k-kamo?" you repeated, as if the way the name rolled from your tongue felt strange. he nodded, already brewing up the explanation in his mind that he never failed to explain time and time again others asked how they had different surnames.

"y'see, yuuji's my half brother," he uttered as the toddler soon felt sleepy and was about to sleep on his brother's shoulders. "we have different fathers, but that doesn't mean he's a stranger to me," choso affirmed, letting yuuji rest on his shoulders. you nodded, feeling a little sympathetic about their family situation, but also feeling as though choso had been somebody you once knew back then, some time in your high school years. "i see... well, i'm glad to know you're both very close," you said with a smile, chuckling under your breath at how absolutely adorable yuuji looked when sleeping on his otherwise stoic looking older brother.

"but i have to ask..." you begin as you look over choso's face once more, searching for some familiarity you may have within his features. choso raised an eyebrow as your voice drifted off as you scoured through your memory where you may have heard the name 'choso kamo' before. you snapped your fingers and widened your eyes when you finally realized just who this man might be. "you were my classmate all throughout my first year in high school!" you exclaimed, grinning.

choso looked at you dumbfounded, he didn't realize you were his old classmate until you pointed it out. "you... were?" he asked you, unsure if the person he was remembering from his hazy memories of high school was the very person he was talking to right now, his younger brother's elementary school teacher. you nodded, smiling wider. "yeah! sorry, i just... i didn't realize it was you! you got taller, your hair's longer, and... i like your makeup," you muttered, giggling a little under your breath. it felt like just yesterday that you were sitting next to one of the most cold and aloof people you had ever laid eyes on in the small world you were in that was high school.

you could remember the goth aesthetic choso had, the chunky boots he'd sneak wearing and get in trouble for, the earphones that were always stuffed in his ears and the occasional lip rings he'd wear when no teacher or discipline officer was in the vicinity; he was oddly cool to you back then. maybe it was just your lack of adventure and rebelliousness in your teenage years, but choso always stood out to you as the kind of person you aspired to be; not goth or a rebel or anything like that, more like a person who lived out their freedom and individuality, throwing caution to the wind and living your life how you wanted to, that was the kind of person choso seemed to you, and you had always yearned to become that kind of person, even now, do you wish you were that free with your life and decisions.

choso's cheeks flushed with red once more, he nodded and murmured his thanks at your compliment. he cleared his throat and tried to look you in the eye, unsure if he should refer to you by the name you preferred to be called in high school, or keep the formalities and call you by the name yuuji called you with the honorifics and all. "i... i'm glad i met you again," he muttered, his face getting redder and redder by the minute.

you nodded and grinned wider. "same here. well, see you and yuuji around, choso; i'll be looking forward to seeing you more often now," you said as you headed back to the classroom to check on the other children, with choso nodding, gazing at you from under his eyelashes. "um, wait..." choso called out to you. "yes?" you asked him, turning around to face him. choso could feel his throat go dry as he struggled to find the words to express what he wanted to ask you right then and there. "c-could i... get your number? f-for emergency purposes, of course..." "...sure thing," you obliged, relieving choso, but simultaneously making his heart pound with anticipation as you wrote your number down and handed it to him.

"how responsible of you, really, i'm really glad yuuji has you as his older brother..." you exclaimed, with the corners of choso's lips curving into a soft, delicate smile. "makes me admire you even more, y'know," you added, making choso's entire face erupt into a blush, making your own face heat up as you smiled and giggled under your breath.

guess some things never change no matter how much time passes...

[billsbabydoll]

“𝒾𝓂 ℴ𝓊𝓉 ℴ𝒻 𝓂𝓎 𝒽ℯ𝒶𝒹, 𝓉ℴ𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉.”

contains:LIGHT HORROR+LIGHT SMUT<3

summary:while on a late night walk back home after the club, i find myself suddenly hearing the sweet melody of an alluring voice luring me into the depths of a hidden alleyway.

WARNINGS:vampire!bill, drunk-curious!reader, eerie setting, pet-names, kissing, make-out session, dry-humping, trippy hallucinations.

notes:ive been in the fall/spooky mood lately, so i wanted to switch it uppp.this is my second attempt at writing this since tumblr deleted my entire progress yesterday ^_^.

god i shouldnt have drank all off those margaritas, in the club obviously they were fun but as im stumbling trying to figure my way home im regretting ever stepping foot into that place.

the night was dimly lit from the moonlight shining above, the wind was cool sure to make anyone shiver, the quiet sound of leaves ruffling were audible in the background.

i crossed my arms over my chest rapidly rubbing my skin trying to create any type of warmth, i hazily looked around in search of any indication of where i could be, only find myself lost with my destination home nowhere in sight.

defeated, i take a few more steps before sitting against a brick wall, taking a deep breath trying come up with some kind of solution.

"maybe i could call someone for a ride?"i thought to myself, quickly pulling the strap of my purse off of my shoulder and placing my bag into my lap.i dig around inside before excitedly pulling out my nokia 2780, opening it to only to find it completely dead.

i dont know what to do at this point, i dont know where i am, i dont even know what time it is, im freezing to death, im drunk as fucking skunk-

“come here baby..”a deep voice suddenly whispered within the shadows.

i frantically look around trying to match the voice to something or someone, only to see the empty road ahead and not a single soul in sight.i slowly stand up from my position on the concrete floor, then anxiously turn the corner walking into a blood-curdling alleyway.

i continue walking deeper into this horrific darkness stopping dead in my tracks when i, not even in a blink of an eye see a tall figure appear in the middle of the path, its red glowing eyes piercing into my own.

“dont be scared, i wont hurt you.”he cooed, magically teleporting right infront of me.

his features were otherworldly, his gaze captivating and hypnotizing, his makeup dark, his skin pale as snow.

he was supernaturally beautiful.

“w-what are y-you?”i muttered, rapidly blinking my eyes trying to figure out if i was just imagining this or if this was real life.

“dont worry about that, for now-”

he paused taking a step closer, his face now not even an inch away from my own, his icy-hands interlinking with my own, his thumb grazing over my warm-blooded skin.

“kiss me doll.”

he then leans in capturing my lips into a passionate kiss, he lets go of my hands now pulling me into his tight grasp before slamming me against a nearby wall.i moan into his mouth, his simple words and beauty trapping me in a hypnosis.

i take the opportunity to tangle my arms around his neck, taking in the unusual metallic taste of his feverish lips, his tongue aggressively raveling with my own, his flavor so addicting and irresistibley delicious.

he begins to repeatedly ram his hips into my own, seeking any sort of relief from the tension bulging through his restricting pants, his clothed cock grinding against my tender pussy.

we continue indulging in each-others lust, he had enchanted me with the most powerful spell but i was too compelled to snap out of it, utterly drowning in his trickery.

he abruptly slows down giving me one last gentle peck before slightly pulling away, his eyes staring into my soul, he wasnt breathing, he didnt even blink once.

i gasp awake, jumping up from my bed, drenched in sweat, still dressed in my clothes from the club and-

a throbbing ache in my neck…

THE END

[digitalro]

After curfew

monoma x reader

The summer breeze was cool that night, you and Monoma were sneaking back into the dorms from the training gym.

This started when a couple of weeks ago, the two of you managed to somehow sneak out to the gym at around the same time.

To avoid snitching on each other, you struck a deal, both of you would sneak out and use the place after hours but neither of you will speak about it.

"Sorry my words were beyond your brain capacity. As expected of a class A student. Let me explain it to you in a language you understand.”

If there was something impressive about Monoma, it’s how he’s held his one-sided beef with class A since you were first years at U.A academy.

You sighed and told him to go on, having had enough of his bullshit already and decided to close your eyes and pray lightning strikes him then and there.

He smiled then cleared his throat, “OOH OOH AH AH!” He mimicked a monkey, jumping around you until it irked you enough to bump his shoulders.

Satisfied with your reaction, he laughed as he got pushed from the path.

Sometimes it took all the willpower in you to not straight up snitch to an instructor, even if it meant getting yourself in trouble because that’s how much he got on your nerves.

You pulled out your phone from your pocket. “That’s it, I’ve held out for too long you polly pocket. I’m telling Mr. Aizawa.”

He laughed, coming back on track and walking backwards to face you. “Tell him what? that YOU have been training after curfew?” He shook his head and clicked his tongue, “I thought you were smarter than that.”

Right as you were going to retort, you suddenly tripped over something and fell face first. You grunted with your face still on the grass.

Once he made sure you were fine, he pointed at you. "Ha! You can't even walk righ-" his sentence was cut off by you pulling him by the ankle, causing him to slip and fall as well.

He hissed and looked back at you but before he could open his big mouth, you placed one hand over his mouth. His eyes widened, you used your free hand to point towards the figure you had just seen in the distance.

It was one of the instructors patrolling around the dorms. They were far enough and barely within hearing distance, but you were still at risk of being seen.

He then acknowledged what was going on and crouched further, getting closer to you.

While the two of you were shuffling around, he accidentally stepped on your hand that was on the ground. You slightly quirked up and let out a shriek that was quickly muffled by his hand on your mouth, simultaneously dragging you onto him.

You glared up at the blond and used both of your hands to lift his off, “I will feed you Mineta’s shit if it’s the last thing I do.”

He scoffed out a laugh. "I would've loved doing it on purpose but I promise I didn't mean to." He whispered, looking down at you. It was then when you noticed how close the two of you were.

It seemed he had too because he suddenly felt a pang in his heart, you looked pretty under the moonlight. The distance between you suddenly made him conscious.

Of course though, he would rather die than admit that or acknowledge whatever he just felt. "What? are you taking in how beautiful I am?"

You thought for a second, he honestly wasn't wrong. Him with the moon behind him gave you a different look on him. His hair was gently blown by the wind and blue eyes looked calmer than ever, his cocky smile that he wore strangely seemed rather beautiful than annoying.

The longer you stared, the more you realized he wasn’t too bad of a looker, and the more nervous he got. It was fun to you. "Sort of. You're pretty when you shut that built-in bullshit radio of yours."

"Huhhh? You don't- what are you saying. I am gorgeous but- shut up! And I DON'T have a built in radio!" He stammered, barely above a whisper, unable to form coherent sentences.

Although it was dark, you could definitely tell his face reddened a thousand shades.

You laughed lowly then turned your head and rose up enough to peek over the grassy top, praying you were just paranoid and the two of you wouldn’t be found out, and luck was surely on your side that night.

You heaved a sigh of relief and got back to your previous position, only this time you misplaced your foot and ended up falling back, but not before grabbing Monoma by the shirt and tumbling down the little hill with him.

He instinctively grabbed your hand that you pulled him with and guarded your head with his other hand.

The both of you landed at the bottom, tangled and messy. He was spread on the ground with you on top, one of your legs on his stomach while your head was down on the grass beside his.

Neither of you moved for a while. All you could focus on was the sound of the little river flowing behind you.

“I know I’m irresistible but you can get off of this free bed now your majesty.” He attempted a snarky remark to build back his confidence and steady his voice, only faltering a little.

But he made no effort whatsoever to actually get you off of him. Frankly, he didn’t find it too bad being there with you, but he also didn’t want you being the first to say anything.

“Shut up.” You groaned, rolling completely off of him, but your hand still remained in his. Neither one of you dared to remove it.

And there the two of you laid sprawled on the grass doing nothing but catching your breaths for a couple of minutes.

You turned your head to look at him. You've never seen him so serene, doing nothing but heaving.

He looked back at you and quirked an eyebrow.

"You act so bold for being such a flustered wittle princess."

The blond didn't instantly have a witty comeback but just started laughing instead.

“Me? Flustered! Ha, you’re funny. That’s why your hand’s still in mine, you germ.” He teased, even though he was more than partially responsible for that and the fact he actually liked it.

You retracted it from his newly loosened grip. “How could I when it was oh so securely grasped between your delicate fingers.”

He scoffed humorously, turning to look back up at the sky. "You're so annoying. It makes me laugh, looks like you actually have a talent for something." He said in between chuckles. "Dimwit."

You couldn't help but start laughing too. "That's why I won the team battle and you didn’t. Shitface."

And every little thing that night seemed to share the same humorous sentiment.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ A/N ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

first post on here! hi. this is my second work ever, sorry if the writing’s wonky ^^.

[it-happened-one-fic]

Might've Walked Slower - Floyd

Author Notes: So, I was actually planning on posting a different fic today, but then the Stitch even came out today so I decided Floyd would get a fic posted today instead. I've actually had this written for a little bit, but it's been undergoing polishing and gathering dust in my google docs. I had fun writing and working on this one, though I have to admit it really doesn't have any specific source of inspiration beyond NRC having an old building and me wondering if there were secret passageways. As per usual, reader is gender-neutral. I hope you enjoy!

Type: Gender-neutral reader/ sfw/ fluff/ flirtation

Word count: 1685

It started the same way a great many things at NRC seemed to start. With a task from Crowley.

To be fair, this task wasn’t particularly difficult or even that annoying. It was just returning some books to the school library for him.

The only trouble came in the form of a bored Floyd Leech, who was currently lurking in the library for unknown reasons. Luckily, Floyd had thus far opted to sit and boredly watch as you shelved books once he’d discovered your presence didn’t mean anything exciting.

But nothing could stay simple in NRC, and today served as still more evidence for that fact.

You’d simply put one hand down on a strangely empty shelf to support yourself while you stretched upwards to place a book on a still higher shelf. And that was when everything went horribly wrong.

You leaned forward ever so slightly more, frowning as you stretched just a little bit more, and all at once the shelf let out a horrible groaning sound and gave way. Your eyes widened, and you realized exactly what was going to happen.

You plummeted forward with a shriek that had Floyd jerking upright from his previously relaxed position of stretching his upper body across the top of a table, “Shrimpy?!”

His voice sounded equal parts startled and concerned, but you paid him little mind as you scrambled, catching yourself against a web-coated wall as you tumbled through where the bookshelf had just been. Your shoulder slamming hard against the cold stone in a way that promised you would have some impressive bruises tomorrow morning.

You groaned slightly as you pushed yourself back, your uninjured arm wrapping around your body so that you could press a hand to your now-throbbing shoulder. But all thoughts of how much that was going to hurt tomorrow fled as you stared at the gaping hole in the wall that was now in front of you.

You stared in quiet horror at the hole before your brain kicked into gear, noting that the edges of the opening were smooth and that this area had obviously been built this way to let the bookshelf swing open like a demented door to reveal the tunnel lined with sconces that hung on the filthy walls.

Though you’d initially thought you’d somehow caused the entire bookcase to topple, that was obviously not the case. Instead, it looked like you’d managed to somehow trigger a mechanism that had opened some sort of hidden door to a passageway that you were now standing in the entrance of.

“Shrimpy, are you…” Floyd trailed off from where he’d appeared behind you as he beheld the darkened path you’d uncovered.

Both of you stood in silence, staring down the stone tunnel whose walls bore unlit sconces before giving way into a deep darkness. You slowly stood as you continued to stare into the darkness from next to Floyd. Wondering what, exactly, this passage was and where it led.

“What have you found this time, Shrimpy?” Floyd’s amused voice snapped you out of your silent gaping, and you shot him a look only to find him staring into the darkness with sparkling eyes that spoke of an emotion that one should always be wary of if it were coming from Floyd. 

Excitement.

With a simple gesture that was not unlike snapping his fingers, magic shot out from where the young man stood, and flames began to flicker in the sconces as he stepped past you into the passageway. Before you could say anything, he’d already reached back and wrapped one hand around your wrist with a smooth rolling motion of his long fingers. 

“Floyd, wai-” You were cut off by him giving you a slight tug and pulling you into the tunnel-like space with him. He was already grinning in a way that told you that you were probably going to be stuck going with him no matter what you said.

“Come on~ it’ll be fun,” His eyes were alight, and the yellow one had a slight glow to it that reminded you of the deep-sea fish that used lights to tempt prey in closer. 

And, in some ways, it was tempting to check out the tunnel-like passage you’d discovered. After all, just finding it brought to light numerous questions. 

Were there more? What was it for? And how old was NRC anyway if it had hidden passageways like this?

You hesitated though, glancing back towards the library as your freehand fell away from your shoulder before Floyd’s sing-songy voice came from far closer than it had been before, telling you he’d stepped closer to you, “Don’t you wanna know where it leads~?”

You looked back towards him, finding that he had indeed stepped closer and was now looking at you, still holding onto your wrist and smiling in a way that told you he knew he was going to win. Because, unfortunately, you were curious about this hidden passage that you’d discovered.

“Just for a little while. I’m not spending all day and night exploring some creepy path with you,” Your tone was firm, but still drew a giggle from the tall young man who now turned to lead you down the path. His hand sliding down until your hands were interlocked.

“It's not creepy, just a little dark. Kind of like home,” You all but snorted at his utterly relaxed demeanor. Of course he wouldn’t find previously secret, web-encrusted tunnels lit only by widely spaced sconces creepy.

But then there was no telling what he was used to seeing from his time living under the sea. Creepy might be an everyday commodity for him. And he had said it was sort of like his home….

When you didn’t actually respond as you glanced around at your surroundings, he twisted, looking back at you with an amused, almost mocking grin, “Aw, don’t tell me you’re afraid of the dark, Shrimpy~”

“Hardly, I just tend to be wary of places that strike me as fishy,” If anything, your words seemed to delight him further as he tugged you up closer to him so that you were walking side by side as he leaned towards you.

“Don’t worry. I’m way more fishy than anything that’ll be in here,” He winked in a way that had you rolling your eyes, but not pulling away from him even as he giggled. Because, for better or worse, having Floyd with you while exploring some dark hole in a magical school was far better than being alone.

After all, he could probably take on anything you found.

Floyd stopped, tugging you to a stop by simply not letting you pull him with you as you came to the edge of the set of stairs. 

Glancing back, you noticed him tilting his head with a thoughtful expression before he met your gaze and smiled teasingly once more, “Reckon it goes to the dungeon?”

You couldn’t stop the snort that came from your throat as you shook your head, “Why would a school have a dungeon?”

He shrugged, staring down the stone steps and soon guiding you down with him as he kept lighting sconces as you approached them, and amusingly, it made you wonder if he really was worried that you were afraid of the dark, “Don’t know, maybe for bad kiddies?”

“Shouldn’t most of the school, including you, be down here then?” Your wry words had him snickering even as you pondered where the staircase led. 

You tilted your head as you carefully followed Floyd down the stone staircase, “Has this place always been a school?”

Floyd gave you a sideways glance before shrugging in a perfectly nonchalant manner, “Don’t know. You’d have to ask one of the history buffs about that.”

Your mind briefly flickered to Malleus’s analysis of the gargoyles on every building on the campus before you dismissed the thought with a shrug, “Either way, I hope this staircase ends with a door out of here.”

“Aw, you aren’t enjoying our date?” You grinned despite yourself at Floyd’s potentially faux pout.

“I didn’t realize this was a date?” You glanced up, still smiling, at Floyd in time to watch as he briefly went wide-eyed before recovering with record timing.

“You think I just casually take all cuties down some potentially forbidden tunnel?” Floyd’s grin was perfectly shameless, but it had laughter bubbling out of you as you shook your head at his antics.

And a large part of you couldn’t believe that you were slowly slipping into the all-too-obvious trap of flirting with Floyd. But here you were, and in no way were you uncomfortable.

In fact, despite yourself and the environment, you were perfectly enjoying your little jaunt through this web-encrusted passage. And you had a sneaking suspicion that the sole reason you were having fun was the young man next to you.

Looking ahead, you could indeed see a door at the foot of the stairs, no doubt the exit to the lengthy tunnel, “How about next time you tell me we’re on a date before whisking me off down some dark tunnel? I might’ve walked slower.”

You could’ve sworn his eyes were sparkling as he grinned at both you and your words before he turned to look at the door, “Well, let’s see where our secret path leads.”

With that, he pushed open the door, scaring the ghosts on the other sides and letting the scent of cooking food spill into the passageway. Your new location could be in only one place. The kitchen.

Floyd was laughing as the two of you entered the hot room filled with now flustered spirits, but before he let go of your hand, he tugged you closer to him and leaned down to whisper in your ear, “Next time you go exploring, make sure to tell me.”

You looked up to see him grinning at you, utterly delighted by the happenings of the day and a long way off from the bored Floyd of earlier as he winked at you, “I’ve got to hold you to walking slower on our next date.”

[frannyzooey]

Middle of the Night

Joel Miller x f!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Summary: He comes to you for comfort.

A/N: Thank you to my loves @mourningbirds1 @the-ginger-hedge-witch and @krissology looking this over for me ❤️

—

Tucked onto his side with his broad back facing you, you crawl into bed and press your nose into the curls that cover the nape of his neck, breathing him in. Your hand maps his firm shoulder, running a well worn path over the curve of his side and his calloused hand grasps yours, pulling it close. 

You sleep, because you’re exhausted, and so does he. 

It’s the middle of the night when he finds you. 

When his guard is down – not all the way, it’s never down all the way – but when the fog of sleep dulls his brain and his heart and he’s reduced to nothing but a man seeking out your warmth in the dusky black of the room, that’s when he finds you. His hands pulling you close, his mouth seeking yours.

Those hands that deliver brutality when needed, that curl into fists or mold around his rifle - a semblance of their old tenderness comes out in his touch when he guides your sleep limp limbs around him; the wet heat of his mouth felt against your skin when he tucks his face into the crook of your neck and inhales.

His strong arm winds around your side, holding you tight and he pulls you from sleep when you feel the drag of his lips as they pepper light kisses along the curve of your jaw. You shift your face down to his and he looks up, his mouth meeting yours.

It’s a languid kiss, a sleepy one laced with a low simmering need. His tongue dips into your mouth, opening you up for him and your fingers brush against the wiry hair of his gray streaked beard, pulling him closer. You shift to face him fully, fitting your body along his and he reaches down, impatiently tugging away the blanket you’ve wrapped yourself in. He needs that barrier to you gone and when it is, his thigh finds the space between your own and he rolls you onto your back, deepening the kiss with a low sound at the back of his throat. 

If you had met before all this happened, there might have been a time where you did this sort of thing with affectionate smiles on your faces, kissing each other breathless through teasing words. There might have been open delight in the act as you had fun with it, laughing quietly into the dark room as you peeled off each other’s clothes in a playful, clumsy fumble. 

But you met now, and so you still peel the clothes off, but there is no laughing. No silly words, no teasing. There is only raw hunger for each other as you find every inch of his firm, bare skin as it’s revealed and he does the same for you. 

“Joel,” you breathe into his kiss when you’re naked and pressed against each other tight, his cock a stiff heft against the curve of your ass as you wind your legs around his waist. He’s a heavy weight on top of you, forcing you into the mattress and you relish the security in his warm drape; tuck it away for later, when you’ll need to recall it. His beard scrapes the palms of your hands, your hold shifting up to thread into his hair. 

Pulling back just enough, he brings his fingers up to his mouth with a suck, wetting them. Your eyes watch the lewd gesture before he reaches down between your bodies and finding the pearl of your clit, he rubs it with a firm, practiced, slick glide, pressing his mouth back against yours. 

Arching into his touch, you keen underneath him and your thighs open wider, your hips rolling lightly against his hand. 

“Fuck,” you exhale, a blooming heat building. “Keep touching it like that. Keep –”

“I know what you need, pretty girl. I know.” The lilt of his accent slips deeper, pairing with the husk of his low voice.

He does know. Keeps doing it until you start to force your hips against the swift circle of his touch, keeps doing it until you tell him that you need him and that’s when he slips himself inside: when your achingly empty cunt flutters around the snug fit before pulling him deep. His hand, still damp with your slick, finds your own and with a strength you’ve seen him display in so many situations, he circles your wrist, forcing it into the bed above your head. You wiggle it free, lacing your fingers with his.

He fucks rough. Bruising strokes, harsh snaps of his hips, ones that betray his need for you. You take everything he gives, his hand tightening its hold on yours while the other one cups your cheek, making sure your mouth stays on his. 

You squeeze his bicep, moaning into his hungry kiss and lift your hips so he can slide in deeper. 

“Goddamn you feel so good,” he groans, breaking the kiss to rest the bridge of his nose against your cheek. He grunts with every deep push forward, the puff of hot air trapped against your skin. “I don’t ever wanna stop.”

“Don’t,” you encourage him, tipping your head back into the pillow and he takes the opportunity to lave his tongue along the hollow of your throat, just before biting down on the juncture of your shoulder. When you hiss, he smiles against your skin. 

“The only good part of my day is this. You, and this pussy right here,” the last words punctuated with a harsh fit of his hips into your own. 

Slipping your hand from his hold, you reach down and follow the dip of his spine to dig your fingers into the meat of his ass, forcing him deeper. His mouth follows the swell of your breasts, his tongue curling over a hardened peak before drawing it into his mouth with a suck. His hand cups the bottom of it, greedily pushing the plump of it up and he opens his mouth wider. His teeth catch, before his tongue soothes. 

“Did you think about this today?” he asks, his hand skating down to curl around the bend of your knee, tugging it higher. “Did you want it?”

“Yes,” you admit, moaning the word. “I always do.”

When he’s away - either physically, or when he withdraws into the depth of pain that haunts his memories - you do miss it. Miss this version of him that allows himself to seek comfort in someone else. To love with his body, even if he’ll never say the words. 

“I wanna be sore tomorrow. I wanna remember. I wanna think about how deep you got, how good you fucked me, Joel. Make me sore, okay?”

A depraved part of his soul, the one that’s grown to cover up the lighter version of him that used to exist, responds instantly to the words and he growls, fucking into you harder. 

“Like this?” he asks, breathless and forceful. His hips snap forward, again, again. “Like this?”

Yes, you cry out for him. Please. 

The old mattress you sleep on rhythmically thudding against the wall, black creeps around the edges of his vision. His gaze fixes on your open mouth, your plush lips, your clenched shut eyes and he fists the worn sheet, using it for leverage. He fucks you like he wants to bury himself inside you and sensing what he needs, you curl your arms around his shoulders, tugging him close. 

I’m right here, I’m right here, you chant in a whisper, right into the shell of his ear. 

“Goddamnit,” he groans loudly, and then again, much lower, almost to himself, like he can’t believe how good you feel. “Goddamn.”

When you come, he groans low when he feels it like a tight fist around him, all the way down to the base of his cock. You’re so wet there’s an audible sound between you as he fucks you through it and he closes his eyes with a frown, trying to last as long as he can. Sweat gathered where your limbs are pressed together, he never wants to leave the flushed heat of your body and waiting until the very last second, he pulls out and spills hot along the inside of your thigh, streaking it with pools of white. 

Then, it’s quiet again.

His body relaxes on top of yours, letting you soothe it. Your nails drag over his back, your fingers kneading into the base of his spine and he melts with a low, content groan. 

This man. The man everyone is afraid of. The one who delivers blunt, efficient violence when it’s needed. The one who is ruthless and hardened, who will stop at nothing to survive and protects what is his: he’s none of those things right now; his arms pushing beneath your body to hold you close. His cheek rests against your thrumming heart and his breathing evens out, slowing into a steady, deep pattern. 

Then, he’s asleep. 

Looking at him in the dark, you wonder how he used to be. Was he funny? Did he joke? Did he have someone to love? Did he have a wife? A family? Did he like movies, or sports, or books, or whatever people did back when they had time for anything else but just surviving? The anger that he bundles up inside of him, the one that pours out in his narrowed gaze and tight jaw and bursts out of his fists - did it always live there? Or did the infection infect him too, only in a different way?

These are questions you’ll never know the answer to. You won’t ask, and you know he wouldn’t tell. It’s a mutual understanding between the two of you: what’s the sense in talking about the past, when it only brings more pain into a world where that’s all there is? 

Better to not think of it. Better to savor the small moments when you get them, like the one you’re having right now. 

He hasn’t moved, his face relaxed in slumber, but his arms are still tight around you as if he’s afraid you might leave him in the night. His unconscious body betrays him — just like his actions, instead of his words. 

The edge of your mouth curls up, your hand brushing back a lock of hair from his forehead and you admire the scarce seen softness in him for a moment, eventually closing your eyes. 

[thespottedcreature]

Little one, part I

You are Thranduil's adopted daughter and he loves you more than anything, even if you cause a lot of trouble sometimes.

A series that takes a peek into the life of Y/N, the adopted daughter of Thranduil and younger sister of Legolas.

Fandom: Tolkien - The Hobbit, Peter Jackson - The Hobbit movies Characters: reader (Y/N), Thranduil, Legolas, Thorin, Fili, Kili, Balin, Dwalin, Bofur (rest of the company mentioned) and Tauriel Warnings: none really Keywords: child!reader, parental fluff, Thorin's company needs to learn some manners I own nothing except my own writing.

You sneaked around the kingdom, trying to be as quiet as possible. You wanted to see the dwarves that your brother had found in the woods, the ones you were forbidden from seeing. So naturally, you wanted to see them even more. You had never seen a dwarf before, your father wouldn't allow you to, and you were curious. Were they truly so short that ada told them that they were? You sneaked down the stairs that you knew took you down to the dungeons, you knew that they whould be kept there.

This was the perfect night to do this, everyone was up, enjoying themselves, it was the feast of starlight. You had thought it was boring so you sneaked down, knowing that there whould be no guards down tonight. You had tried this before but you couldn't sneak down without being seen, so you just had stayed higher up, listening to them talking in their gruff, and low voices. But now, you made your way down, making sure that your steps were silent. You were a little nervous, your father had warned you about them many times, not to go close to them.

- - - -

Meanwhile, Thorin was sulking in his cell, cursing the elves in his head. He heard the light patter of feet, the stone made them more audible, and he got up, thinking it was one of the guards yet again. "What do you want?" He bellowed and marched to the door, ramming his hands against it and making it rattle, only to see that the hallway was empty. He frowned and looked around, not seeing anyone. "What are you doing, Thorin?" Balin's voice came from a few cells from the left and Thorin could swear he could hear someone snickering. "It's nothing, I thought I heard something." He grumbled and sank back down, resting his head against the stone wall when he saw someone walking on the stone path. "Hey!" He yelled and the figure jumped into the air and disappeared behind a corner.

- - - -

You were breathing heavily, having gotten spooked by the sudden yell. You were evening out your breath, a part of you wanting to run to your father or your brother, and let him comfort you, but most of you was too curious and you pushed the fear aside, peeking behind the corner yet again. There was so many of them, nearly all the cells were full. They were all at the gates, and they looked so ... funny. They were short, and all of them had some sort of beard. They were not fat, but they were a lot bulkier than you. You couldn't control your curiosity, you slowly inched closer. You were in the shadows, so none of them could see you, but you could see them clearly. Most of them looked quite scary, but some of them looked kind. You were so curious, your head full of questions. What did dwarf children do for fun? Was a beard itchy? Was it hard to fight when you were stocky? You just stood there, thinking about what you should do, when the same voice made you jump slightly but it didn't scare you away this time. You inched closer to the border between light and shadow, pondering what you would do. "I can see you standing there." The voice rang yet again, and you decided to step into the light, walking so you were in front of the cell. You stared at him, his hair was dark and the beard he had was short, and his face was a little stunned. You took a tiny step forward and tilted your head, not sure what to do next, your curiosity rising. You decided to see who was in the next cell, so you shifted to see what did that dwarf look like. He had a long white beard and nearly no hair at all. You looked from one to another, they looked so different, yet somehow similar. The latter smiled and leaned to the bars. "What are you doing here, little one?" His voice was gentle and you thought for a moment before you answered. "I wanted to see a dwarf. Ada wouldn't let me so I came on my own." You declared and looked around.

- - - -

The small elfling was talking with Balin, having moved on from Thorin, who kept a close eye on her. She was very young, and her hair was done half up and her eyes shone as she was watching Balin's every move. "What is your name?" The elfling didn't answer straight away but after a little while of pondering. "Y/N." She stated simply and shifted her feet. "What is yours?" She asked Balin, who answered her nearly instantly. "Balin." "That is a funny name." She giggled and Balin huffed. "I suppose." She shifted her weight to see who was at the next cell, only to be met with Dwalin's gruff voice. "What do you want, leave me alone." He banged the bars but the young elf didn't' even flinch, she just giggled and moved on, walking past a few cells before her steps halted. "I like your hat." She was standing in front of Bofur's cell, then. "Why, thank you little one." His voice was gentle, he was good with kids. "Can I ask you a question?" She was still standing in front of Bofur's cell, who answered her, a little hesitantly, but for nothing, because the question she asked was quite sweet. "What do dwarf children do for fun?" She was staring at Bofur with bright eyes, clearly wanting to know the answer. "Well, they play with wooden toys and they play tag and hide and seek and other games." Bofur listed, and she huffed. "Huh. So the same things as I do." She shrugged and pressed herself to the wall, and suddenly pushing herself off of it and jumping over the gap between the two stone paths that ran in front of the paths of the cells, landing on the other side with the agility of an elf. She jumped up to the candle holder and swung back and forth on it for a while before letting go and landing with steady feet, not wobbling at all. She turned to the dwarf that was in the cell that she was now next to.

- - - -

This cell had a young looking dwarf in it with light brown beard and hair. "Can you say something in dwarvish? I would like to hear some of it, ada always says it sounds funny." The dwarf stared at me for a moment but did indeed say a sentence in dwarvish. You giggled. "It sounds like you have a sore throat but you still want to speak." You tilted your head. "But I kind of like it. It's different, but not as horrible as ada described it as." "Who is this ada you talk about?" Another dwarf, this one with dark hair and the smallest of all the beards, was looking at you. He had warm, brown eyes that reminded you of your father's elk. "Ada is my father, it's just funny to call him father when there is a shorter and more convenient word to it." "Your father doesn't sound very pleasant," Thorin growled from his cell, and you turned to him. "No! He is the best. But he might get a little boring sometimes, he doesn't allow me to do many of things, such as..." "Visit the dungeons alone?" You froze at the sound of your father's voice but turned around to face him. "Hi, ada." You greeted him with a quiet voice, knowing that he would be angry. Thranduil stared at you for a moment and the dwarves were silent, observing the situation and settling with the thought that you were the daughter of the king, the king that they hated. You were looking at the ground, not wanting to look at his face, you couldn't see the disappointment in his eyes. Suddenly, you felt hands around you as Thranduil picked you up and hugged you to his chest tightly, taking long breaths. "Y/N, I was so worried, I was sure that a spider had eaten you." You buried your head to his chest, muttering out words as you clutched his robes in your hands. "I'm sorry ada, I just really wanted to see the dwarves." - - - -

"Ada, I searched everywhere, I don't understand where she..." Your brother had arrived, speaking with a nervous tone until he saw you. "Where did you find her?" Thranduil handed you to him, and you wrapped your hands around his neck as you clung to him now. "She was down here, talking with the dwarves," Thranduil answered, sounding a little bit displeased and you shrunk down into Legolas's chest. "Talking with the dwarves, why whould you do that Y/N?" He asked you and you lifted your head from his chest. "I was curious, you whould never let me go down there so I went alone. And the party was boring." Your father just huffed, and took you from Legolas, heading downstairs. "This elloth is going to get a bath and then go straight to bed." "Noooo!" You squealed and went totally limp in his arms and slipped off and ran back towards the cells. "Y/N." Your father's voice was calm, but it had a slightly sharp edge to it as he looked at you. "I am not in the mood for games." You smiled miscefiously and shifted your weight from one leg to another. "Thats too bad, because I am." You stormed over to the path in front of the cells. "Y/N, please. Let's go. I'll read you a story afterward." Your brother tried, slowly inching to his left. But your mind was set, and you weren't about to change it. "No." You stomped your leg to the ground.

The next thing you noticed was that your father was at the other end of the path, and your brother was at the other. "What to do now?" You pondered, and as they moved towards you, you allowed your shoulders to slump. "Let's go and end this foolishness." Your father approached you and you let your head sink down. "Okay." But just as he was going to grab you, you jumped up as hard as you could and grabbed the edge of the path that was running above. You hoisted yourself up, and peeked over the edge, smiling yet again. "Did you really think that I would come that easily?" You didn't wait for the answer, you got up and ran off, giggling, leaving Thranduil and Legolas shaking their heads. They made their way up after you with small smiles on their faces

****

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