#headcannonxgalore

[multiversxwhore]

Netflix n chill

a/n: Just warning you guys, this is unedited, it's another one of my nonsense one shots. Where here for a good time not a long time type of ordeal. I was just so desperate to create something, and this idea would not leave me once I thought of it. Then I found out that MBJ loves anime so here we are. Enjoy, please reblog, and comment.

Pairing: Michael B Jordan x Black!oc

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1k

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‘Kissin and hoppin they caught us, whether they like it or not, I wanna show you off…’ Doja Cat’s Agora Hills plays in the background. Mike had come over early that morning to spend the day with me. We were supposed to go out, but in the midst of me finishing up getting ready, things took a different turn. “Damn you look good, what’s that Fenty?” He stuck his head through the bathroom threshold, his chocolate eyes held something anamoros within them, and his lips were pulled back in a playful smirk. His dimples pressing into his cheeks adding a youthful flair to him. I turn the upper half of my body to him, in only my bralette and matching panty, his eyes drop to my booty. I grin as the beat drops again, he’s already taking off his denim jacket, and throws it over the door. 

“Hold my hand, you can hit while they watch boy.” I sang along to the words, and rolled my body to the tempo of the music, one arm in the air. I hike my knee up on the bathroom face bowl, and pop my butt back. Mike grabs a handful of me with both hands, he buries his face in the crook of my neck, and inhales my perfume. Butterflies flutter at the pit of my stomach turning into desire, and traveling down right between my thighs. It reminds me of the first time we officially met each other inside the Met. 

“Norielle Woodard! Look at you, you look ethereal. C’mon over here and talk to me.” Cardíerre Taylor-Johnson stood off to the side with a microphone in hand in front of a cameraman, and question cards in hand. Norielle carefully made her way over to her long time friend, and co-star, making sure not to trip in her heels. Seeing her cry for help through her almond shaped eyes, Cardíerre reached out a hand to steady Norielle. The theme that year was ‘All The Stars: Self Expression Through Fashion’ Cardíerre was fitted in a  Thierry Mugler dress. From the breast to waist is a golden plated cast, with pinkish-rose gold chiffon fabric. She looked like a Roman goddess. 

“You look gorgeous as fuck, what the fuck Cardi?” Norielle’s mouth dropped open, her eyes widened in astonishment, and took a step back to get a better look. Cardíerre let out an airy laugh, her smile bright, and her teeth perfect. Before Cardíerre could speak, Norielle’s eye dropped down to Cardíerre’s breast, “Goddamn.” She blurted out, the look on Cardíerre’s face caused Norielle to burst out into laughter. 

“Jesus Nori, my eyes are up here.” The two friends giggled for a moment, it took Nori a few extra minutes to contain her laughter. Cardíerre rolled her eyes as she’s had enough of the goofiness, finally the interview was on its way. They chatted for a moment about the Met, and how amazing it felt for them to be surrounded by so many of their idols. 

“So, we talk about fashion all the time, and how we try to incorporate our personalities into a bit of everything. Tell me what does tonight’s theme ‘All The Stars’ mean to you?” Cardíerre held the mic for Norielle to speak into. It didn’t take her long to think of her answer, “Well, if you think about the stars, and constellations in the sky at night, they all shine differently. Each constellation has a different shape from the other, and tells a different story, with a specific purpose. Ya know, I’m very dramatic, and I’ve been inspired by alternative, gothic like fashion since I was a young girl. So I was blessed enough to have been able to work with Alexander McQueen, and we collaborated on this dark victorianish design. And I just love it so much, with the  florentine neckline to show off my twins, it’s also vegan leather and it’s giving medieval.” Norielle paused to let out a giggle, she took a breath before she carried on, “So that’s what I think we are meant to showcase tonight as stars in our own right. Showing our individuality through fashion, and oh, how everyone looks so stunning. Everyone really brought it this year, and I’m gonna shut up before I start crying.” Norielle pulled a tissue from her small clutch and dramatically damped her eyes. As the interviewer is wrapped up, and the two said their goodbyes Norielle made her way towards the notorious red carpeted staircase that led inside. 

All was going well, she moved up the stairs slowly, or as slowly as was humanly allowed without looking like you were on an acid trip. She stood mid way up the staircase, posing so that her curves were more defined, she gave the photographers as many pictures as she could. Eventually enough was enough. By the time Norielle turned to take another step up she missed a step, and tripped. In an attempt to not fall face first she put her arms out in front of herself, and it did soften the blow. Audible gasps of shock, and worry could be heard all around her, she wanted nothing more than to be swallowed by the stairs. Only a few seconds had passed —though it felt like an eternity—when someone’s large hand gently touched my shoulder. Norielle lifts her head to see Micheal B Jordan standing over her with his other hand extending in offering. When their eyes locked something like a static shock sent a wave of rejuvenation through her nervous system. She knew he too felt the same thing, he looked taken aback by their sudden connection. Norielle took his hand, he grasped her firmly, and let her weight lean on him as she pushed herself upwards. 

“I just embarrassed the fuck out of myself.” She whispered with a shaky voice, eyes burning with unshed tears, and a nervous smile on her glossed lips. Still holding onto her hands, he gave them a reassuring squeeze, and held her gaze. “Don’t even focus on that, let’s keep moving up, and then we’ll be inside.” Wordlessly Norielle nodded her head in agreement allowing Micheal to link arms with her as they ascended the stairs. Her heart was pounding so hard it nearly caused her pain, but then his voice began to speak calming words in her ear. In the midst of all the camera clicking, eager photographers fighting for the best shot, and buzzing conversations, they clung to each other the rest of the night. 

When the night wrapped up, Cardíerre and the rest of Norielle’s friends were stealing her away for the evening. She managed to get his phone, and add herself as a contact as ‘Nori.’ When he called her at 5am the next morning they talked for hours, the beginning and of an inseparable relationship. 

I planted glossy kisses all over Mike’s face, pressing my lips to wherever she could. His muscular arms pull me in impossibly closer, my arms wrap around his shoulders. Some would say our relationship is dramatic, but I would call it passionate. “So I take it we’re not going out anymore?” His grip relaxes upon hearing the strain in my voice, his lips graze over the shell of my ear barely kissing it before he pulls back. “Yeah no, I’m not feel it anymore baby.” He apologizes sheepishly, a feeling of relief washes over me because once he came in here with his bullshit I was no longer in the mood to be outside in the public either. That’s just how our relationship went, majority of the time we’re the same person, and I couldn’t be happier about it. 

“Raising Canes?” I offer playfully, a knowing grin growing onto my lips, Mike pulls back, and his own smile mirrors mine. The dimples in his cheeks become more prominent, he dips his head down to kiss both of my breasts, the giggle that came from me turns into full laughter. “You go get changed, I’ll finish getting ready and we’ll just go get food and come home.” I pushed away from him halfheartedly, only after sneaking one last kiss from me did he leave me be. 

On our way to Raising Canes the radio blasted too loudly for either of us to hear how terrible we actually sounded. I turned it down for a moment and turned to him from the passenger side of the car. “So, what do ya wanna watch while we eat?” We pulled into the drive through, as we sat in line, and waited for our turn to order Mike thought hard about it. A smile breaks out onto my face, I can practically see him doing the math in his head. “Hey, I take my tv watching to eating ratio very seriously.” He quips half heartedly, finally after what felt like forever he lets out a breath, “You know what I’m gonna say right?” 

“Naruto?” I guessed without hesitation, now his smile mirrors mine, he leans in closer to me from his side of the car, his lips curl into a smirk. “Me, and you…right here.” He taps his temple with his index finger, and extends his hand for me to dap him up. “Same wavelength baby.” The hand slap turns into the fireball jutsu hand sign from Naruto, Micheal took what felt like hours teaching me that, so best believe we use any opportunity to do it. When it was our turn we ordered our usual combo meal, with extra fries, and sauce, then made our way home. As soon as my feet touched the inside of the house I was already sliding my shoes off, and removing my sweat pants. I got comfortable on the couch as I waited for Micheal to settle next to me, when I turned to see his bare legs I nearly choked on my spit from laughter. “What? I wanna get comfortable too!” I didn't even respond to him, instead I turned my focus to the tv, and turned on Netflix. Relaxing on the sofa, and watching anime, in my underwear was not how we thought the day was going to go. But I’d rather be doing this. Three episodes in, and half eaten take out, We were cuddled up on the couch in the living room with the tv blasting. I had just begun to doze off when I felt Michael hand slip into my underwear, and squeeze my booty. When I look up at him, his eyes move from the tv to me, the lust from earlier had crept its way back in, and I knew he wasn't going to let me sleep till he ate his desert…to be continued

Quick tags: @cardierreh15 @insatiableorsmthn

[miyuhpapayuh]

luv day.

Ass high in the air, fingers gripping the sheets for mercy, that deep stroke poking her sweet spot, her hug on him becoming even more snug.

“Fuuck,” he grunts from behind, swatting her jiggly ass as she shakes it purposely now, giggles laced in her moans.

Smirking down at her, he watches her mouth fall back open as he gets deeper, neither of them thinking such a thing was possible.

“Oh my god,” she breathes as he pulls out and pushes back in, that twinge of pain every time they connect, turning her on.

“Deep enough?”

“Oh my god,” she repeats, biting her lip as he grips a handful of her curls and begins stroking, faster now.

Her whimpers and whines met the damp air around her as her lover rutted her back and forth on his big dick.

“Like that, baby?” He asks in that teasing tone that turns her into mush, placing kisses on her neck.

“Yesss, fuck me just like that,”

Moving his big hand to her neck, he grips hard just how she likes, already knowing her eyes are rolled back.

The noises she makes when she can barely breathe makes him harder than ever for her, the kisses to her cervix proving that point.

Poor thing is stuttering over her words, pushing at his thighs with one hand, holding him closer with her opposite foot.

Moving his hand to her back, he presses her into the mattress, his strokes making her squeal and squeeze him for dear life.

“Like that, huh?”

“Yeah!” She yells, a smile covering her lips.

Both of her legs wound up around one of his as his strokes became too much.

“Oh fuck, oh fffuck!”

“Mmhm..,You gon gimme that nut, baby?” He asks.

She nods, another moan spilling out with her chopped “yes” as she cums hard, shaking in his lap.

Her body jerked away from his, going limp on the bed, but he wasn't done yet.

Flipping her over, he slides right back in, pulling her legs up on his shoulders, sinking as deep as possible into her.

“I love you, baby,” he says, staring down at her.

“I love you too, baby,” she moans back, reaching out for him as he closes the space to kiss her.

He rocks her in his arms, kissing her neck, telling her how good she feels, how much he loves her… she's floating, feeling the burn in her thighs, beginning to hold them up herself.

Dipping his hips, she gasps, reaching for his shirt at the jabs to her sweet spot, her thighs shaking terribly.

“Don't stop, baby,” she moans, holding him closer.

“What's gon happen?”

“I'm gonna cum,” she whines, mouth opening wider with every thrust, eyes damn near crossing as she finally hits her peak.

“Oooh, shit!”

Still stroking, he digs for another one, telling her to “keep cummin’”, and who could resist that??

“Mmmm!! So good, baby!”

“It's all for you, baby.” He kisses her face and her lips.

“So deep,”

“Mmhm,”

“So big, fuck baby!”

She clamps down on him once more, as he pins her hands to the bed and pounds into her, leaving her no choice but to take every inch of her pleasure.

Staring into each other's eyes, he searches hers, watching them glaze over as she tries to hold on. He raises his brow, making her pout as he strokes right where she needs him to, unable to hold it any longer.

Her eyes never leave his as it washes over her body in a million tingles, him just above her, smirking and nodding, that beautiful mouth mumbling how good she did.

Happy love day, kids 💜

@thegifstories @blackerthings @ghostfacekill-monger @sheabuttahwrites @honestpreference @starcrossedxwriter @blowmymbackout @motheroffae @twistedcharismaaa @cecereads209 @nayaxwrites @megamindsecretlair @mcondance @harmshake @henneseyhoe @headcannonxgalore @mauvecherie-writes @consent-is-king @abeautifulmindexposed @soufcakmistress

[slutouttanowhere]

Million Dollar Baby

Pairing: Randy Orton x Black!oc

Warnings: not editied

a/n: Listen, all I got to say is…the girls that get it, and the girls that don’t… lol this is just a little snippet, an idea I was playing around with while other fics are being edited. I could not get this idea out my head once I saw the vision. Check out my main blog @headcannonxgalore Reblogs are appreciated, leave some comments let me know if y’all want more 💜

Adam Pearce had enough on his plate with Judgement Day running around terrorizing the roster, and running matches, and now on top of that he had to deal with Mavis Pete. She’s been raising hell for the past two weeks, for every time she didn't get a title shot, she’s attacking every female superstar that does. Sabotaging all their title shots in any way she could. He tried to rack his brain to come up with a solution, maybe there was someone he could pair her with to keep her busy, take her mind off things, while simultaneously giving the people some entertaining matches. Suddenly, his office door swung open, a steaming, angry Randy Orton stood in the doorway. A stern look on his face, his lips parted to speak, but before he could Mavis came barging in right behind him. “Finally your office hours are open, listen I don't have time to waste you know what I want-’

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you any manners, kid?” Randy cut her off, he turned to her, forgetting all about their general manager. She looked taken aback by his attitude, one hand on her hip, and her face scrunched into a disgusted facial expression. She’d never tell him, but he’s in her top five favorites of all time. She snapped out of her thoughts quickly, his icy blue irises scrutinizing her closely, her diamond chains catching his eyes.

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to interrupt a bad bitch when she’s talking?” She asked, a slight smirk on her lips, to which Randy scoffed, and turned back to Pearce, blocking Mavis’ site.

“Anyway, like I was saying– He started talking again, ignoring the younger superstar behind him, Adam raised his eyebrows expectantly, but to Randy’s misfortune, he never got the chance to speak.

Mavis rolled her eyes, and cleared her throat, “like I was saying.” She had pushed past Randy, her hips bumping him out the way, now it was his turn to be shocked. “It’s time to make some shit shake, I think the heel run was nice, but I’d do better as a baby face, don't you agree AP?” He watched as she demanded answers from the Raw General Manager, Randy would be lying if he said he hadn’t been watching Mavis’ performances. She was a star in the making, if she could control her attitude, and if she could learn to pull that trigger when necessary, she’d be gold. Or in her case diamonds.

“You wanna be a champion, but don’t know when to stop running your mouth?” Randy talked over Pearce, he watched the interaction between the superstars, and now the wheels were turning in his head. He finally had a perfect idea, it was temporary, but it would keep everyone busy till he figured out the alternative.

“Who do you think you are, my Daddy?” Her face scrunched up in disgust, but she liked the attention. Her and Randy didn’t cross paths often, even when they were in the same vicinity, he opted to ignore her. It bruised her ego that out of everyone she got along with, he acted like she wasn’t worth his time.

Randy smirked in response. He looked her up and down, her revealing outfits, and over zealous confidence is what caught his eye when she first got signed. In a way, she reminded him of a younger version of himself. He let out a condescending chuckle, and as badly as he wanted to let his intrusive thoughts take over, he tried to remain professional. “It seems to me like you sure could use the guidance of a veteran, Hot Girl, Maivs Pete.” He said her name mockingly, and she’s not sure what bothered her more, the fact that he thought that she needed his help, or that she was turned on by his innuendo. They stared each other down, neither one of them refusing to break, till Adam Pearce clapped his hands together.

[cardierreh15]

Love You Up Close

***I do not give anyone permission to copy or repost my work!!!

Warnings 18+: Cursing , Little bit of Angst & Small Mention of Death — other than that — Fluff , Fluff , So much sweetness it’ll make your teeth rot!

Pairing: August Walker x Bianca (Black!OC)

Description: August is tired of Loving his woman from afar.

Song: Car Outside by James Arthur , To Build A Home by The Cinematic Orchestra

Word Count: 2.3K

Side Note: This Head Cannon was inspired by my husband & I. We celebrated our 6 year anniversary on the 15th and I wanted to write something beautiful. ✨🩵🥹

Tags: @headcannonxgalore @milknhonies @augustsprincess

I love you too. I will call you when this is over I promise.

She stared at the final text message he’d sent her. Her throat felt as if a lump was making the attempt to suffocate her all while she felt this great weight on her shoulders.

Bianca knew what her boyfriend August did for a living. She knew it was a dangerous job and his chances of making it out alive somehow grew slimmer with each mission. She couldn’t help but think that this time was it. Someone finally bested him.

She didn’t want to think like that but it had been 3 weeks since they spoke last. The poor girl would answer any unfamiliar number hoping it was him just calling from landline or a pay phone.

Nothing.

Her alarm had spooked her out of her thoughts, causing her to blink back to her current reality. She was sitting at her desk in front of her computer. Bianca worked from home and though she found it very convenient, it sucked when the man she loved wasn’t here with her. It just gave her too much time and too much room to dwell.

She looked at the time, it was 3:10PM. At least she was closer to the end than the beginning… but the time… the time aches her in the most wretched way possible. The closer it was for her to get off, the closer it was for the day ending… another day without him.

As the minute changed, she felt that choking feeling in her throat once again. Her mind felt even heavier and her eyes became a gateway of tears. The more Bianca sobbed, the more heavy her shoulders became. Her chest began to tighten and her breathing became shallow and uneven.

‘August… please.’ She mewed out in pain as she gripped her shirt. ‘I miss you so much… please come back to me.’

***

Bianca started off the next morning on a rather lighter note. She went for a jog and watched the sunrise. Then, she came back in and made herself breakfast and took a shower. She washed and conditioned her hair before brushing it up into a ponytail. Afterwards, she did her skin care and got dressed in something comfortable.

All of these things made her feel better… or so she thought. It just busied her for a little bit because now that she was sitting back in front of her desktop… she was thinking about him again. So she instantly grabbed her phone and searched her photos; finding the many silly and sweet photos they’d shared together.

It stung a little, but the beauty of those pictures outshined the pain she was feeling on the inside. They made her smile.

After a while, she was able to work just fine. Nothing could stop her now!

Peaking out her window, she noticed this big moving truck driving by. She ain’t pay it no mind at first. People move in and out of these townhome apartments all the time. But she did find it a little odd when the driver parked in front of her driveway.

‘What the hell? Oh uh-uh!’

She scrambled up out of her office chair and made her way downstairs in a hurry. She unlocked her front door so fast and damn near pulled it off of the hinges!

‘Hey!’ She rushed down the 3 steps and walked down her driveway, ‘Hey! Can you move your shit from in front of my front door?!’

The driver didn’t say anything, instead the sound of the door in the back of the truck could be heard rolling up.

Their silence built up rage inside of her. ‘Alright! How about I call the police and have you arrested for trespassing?!’ Bianca pulled out her phone and brought up her dial pad. She’d already pressed in the numbers, she’d just had yet to hit the green button.

‘Well why would you wanna call the cops on me?’

That voice. The voice she loved and adored. The voice she would follow in complete darkness.

He crept around the corner and folded his arms across his chest before leaning against the moving truck.

‘Aug-August.’ Her voice was already masked in tears, instantly coming to the conclusion that her mind was simply betraying her. Was she seeing things?

‘BB.’ A small and warm smile curled upward on his lip, causing that dimple to carve into his 5 o’clock shadow.

She’d pressed her hands against her chest, the instinct of catching it just in case it broke. Her eyes erupted in tears. ‘Baby.’ She croaked out.

August pushed his weight off of the truck and rushed over to wrap her up into his arms. ‘Shhh… I’m here baby.’ He rested his chin on top of her head as he gently rubbed her back. ‘I’ve missed you too.’

Bianca wrapped her arms around his neck securely when their bodies collided. She pressed her face flat into his chest, inhaling his soft refreshing scent that clouded all of her senses.

Her man was really here. Finally.

She had pulled her face away to look up at him. The early morning sun had caused this glorious twinkle to shine in his cobalt blue eyes.

He caressed his thumb over her wet cheeks, ‘I’m sorry I haven’t been able to get back to you. I figured you’d prefer to see me anyway.’

Bianca sniffed, ‘You could’ve at least told me you were okay Auggy! I was worried sick about you.’

‘I know… but that’s all going to end. Right now. You won’t have to worry about me ever again pretty soon.’

Her brows tugged into one as she sniffed, ‘What are you talking about?’ Then she glanced at the moving truck, ‘What is this about August?’

August looked back at the truck once and then looked down at her once again.

‘Bianca, I’m tired. I’m tired of spending weeks without speaking to you. I’m tired of going months without waking up next to you. I’m tired of us trying to see one another… we don’t have to live like that. Like this. I want to be able to come home every night and kiss you and tell you about my day. I want to be able to touch you when I want. I’m sick of being without you, BB.’

‘Wh-‘ The heaviness that sat on Bianca’s shoulders had somewhat subsided. But that tightening still had her chest strung up. ‘What are you saying?!’

August let out a gentle sigh, ‘Bianca, I want you to come back with me… I want you to come home.’

Bianca blinked once at his words. ‘You want— you want me to do what?!’

‘I want you to move back to Washington with me. Look, I know it’s sudden… I know it may seem crazy but I want this…don’t you?!’

She did. But she also had a life here in Georgia too.

‘August, I just can't get up and drop everything like that. What about my lease?! My family?’

‘Bi, I will break the lease, you know that’s not a problem for me… And I talked to your parents… they—‘ he paused, feeling a great deal of nervousness sit upon his own shoulders now. ‘They gave me their blessing…’

Her brows tugged into one. Never had a man have to ask a woman’s parents for their blessing to move in with their daughter.

‘Oh lord, August. You just gave them all the opportunity to be up in our business!’ She placed her hand on her forehead.

‘That’s not what I mean…’ he paused as he took her left hand into his.

Bianca’s face was ridden with confusion until he grabbed her hand in the softest touch. A touch no man had ever given her. ‘August— what are you doing?’ Her heart began to beat so fast.

‘Doing what I should’ve done a long time ago. Please.’

August reached in his pocket, pulling out a small black box before slowly descending on his knee.

Bianca breathed in sharply before she whipped her head around, searching for a camera crew to come out and tell her she was being punk’d or something. But nobody… only a few people standing around in front of their houses watching the beautiful and intimate moment unfold before their very eyes.

‘I’ve been wanting to do this ever since I laid eyes on you. It was easy… My career, it was easy to just leave and not have to worry about someone or not answer to someone. I could’ve died and not a single soul would’ve cared. But when we got together, all of that changed. Every time I had to leave you… I died more and more inside. I don’t want to live like that anymore. I don’t wanna live without you. You’re my sunshine, Bi-Bi. My lifeline.’ He’d opened the small black box, revealing a beautiful diamond ring.

‘Oh—‘ she became a sobbing mess, covering her mouth as she tried to muffle the sounds.

‘Please… Marry Me and I promise you’d never have to be another day without me.’ His eyes glossed over with tears, fear written each crevice and pattern.

Bianca wiped her drippy nose with the wrist of her sweater and sniffed. She paused for a second before a laugh escaped her lips.

‘Yes. Yes! I will marry you!’

The air that August held on so tightly in his chest had finally been set free in relief. ‘Oh thank God!’ He chuckled as he pulled the ring out of the box and slipped it on her finger.

Standing to his feet, he wrapped his arms around her waist as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He spun her around joyfully as they erupted with laughter. They could hear cheering and whistling from nearby neighbors.

Placing her back on her feet, he grinned, ‘Does this mean you’ll be moving to DC with me after all?’ His head fell to the side.

Bianca giggled as she placed her hands on his chest, ‘I guess so.’

‘Good.’ August said softly as he leaned down to meet her in a blissful kiss. A kiss that they’d both longed for what had seemed like centuries. But none of that mattered anymore. They no longer needed to worry about the past, what their future had in store for them.

***

8 years later…

August now worked for the FBI simply pushing paperwork. Since being married and having a family, he realized how much he enjoyed living. So he gave up the life of danger and what ifs. And opted for something more mundane and simple.

Bianca picked a career she loved ever since she was a little girl. She taught History/Social Studies for 2nd grade at the local elementary school.

They also shared 2 beautiful daughters. Sarah who was 6 years old and Lucía who’d just turned 3 in the recent month.

This was the life they deserved.

Bianca had just finished up with dinner. It was now time to announce to her family that it was time to pack up the pool for the day.

August was body slamming the girls in the pool, making dramatic crashing sounds with his mouth as they squealed for dear life! Though it looked a little rough to Bianca, the girls were laughing so they were having more than a good time.

But moms always had to ruin the fun.

‘August!’

He stopped, holding little Lucía upside down by her ankle and Sarah on his back. ‘What?’

‘You don’t think you’re playing a little rough with the girls?’ She asked with a sly smirk curled up on her lips.

He paused and looked at Lucía who was giggling and flaying her tiny arms around. Then he looked over his shoulder at Sarah who was still trying her damndest to climb on top of his shoulder.

‘You mean they’re playing rough with me.’ He snickered as he flipped Lucía the right way up.

‘Of course you’d say that. Come on inside, dinner is ready.’

‘Awww mooom!’ Sarah whined out and swam over to the edge of the pool. ‘Just a little bit longer?’

‘Peeeasss mommy?!’ Lucía begged, pouting out her bottom lip and batting those thick lashes.

They were so beautiful. Both sporting brown untamed curls. Sarah had her father’s blue eyes with that blotch of hazel in it while Lucía had brown eyes and was every spitting image of her mother. They both made up both of their parents very nicely. They were absolutely perfect.

‘I’m afraid not girls. Look, we can come back out tomorrow when daddy get off of work alright?’

‘Awww man.’ Lucía groaned as they swam to the steps and stepped out of the pool.

‘Hey it’s whatever mama says, girls. Pool water ain’t gonna disappear and it will be hot enough to bring y'all back out for another swim tomorrow.’ He added on as he followed the girls out the pool.

Mom and Dad got them wrapped up in towels and began to dry them off so they didn’t track the water into the house.

‘Go upstairs and get ready for a bath, girls.’

‘Yes sir!’ They said in sync and left their parents poolside.

Bianca smiled up at him as she snatched his beach towel off the table and began to dry out his hair. Then she handed it off to him. And there she was, staring at him as if it were the very first time she’s ever seen him.

August did his best to dry himself off but eventually just wrapped his towel around his waist. He looked up to see her staring at him and a bright pink hue burned his cheeks.

‘What?’

‘Nothing just… we really did get our happily ever after huh?’

August smiled warmly, grabbing her hand and placing a kiss against her knuckles.

‘Y’know… I think we did.’

[wanderingpages]

‧͙⁺˚･༓☾Gentle Sins AU☽༓･˚⁺‧͙

“Are you going to help me take my clothes off too?” I meant it to sound teasing – I wanted to show him I could play his game too – but I was breathless, I was buzzing with anticipation.

“You know it wouldn’t end there, Jude,” he gave me a wry look. “It's a shame,” he rose and ruffled my hair, “It's a shame you’re my sister,” he murmured, needlessly reminding me. “Because that was some damn fine pussy, baby.”

TFOTA // All Human // AU : Jude and Cardan do things step-siblings shouldn't do.

Trigger Warnings: Crude language, Allusions to Drugs/Alcohol, Debauching Catholicism/Religious Metaphors, Taboo Sex.

Only God and @headcannonxgalore knows how many times I rewrote this one.

Jude's POV

I stand on my tiptoes, both feet perched on the back of my armchair, strategically positioned against the wall closest to the doorway. Holding my breath, I delicately place the wire right above the door frame. "Uh huh," I mumble in response to Fand's voice emanating from the speakerphone, feeling beads of sweat forming at the back of my neck. A sigh of relief escapes when the fairy lights finally find their place on the nail I had carefully tacked there earlier. Stepping down, I survey the room, content with the new decor I've added today. Admittedly, it was done as a way to create an excuse to stay in my room and avoid the rest of my family, but as  I take in the rest of the scene, I can't help but feel pretty accomplished. 

Suddenly, there’s a tap on my window. My brows furrow when I turn and spot Cardan standing on the roof, waiting patiently for me. He breathes against the glass before writing “Hi” and drawing a little smiley face in the fog. I let out a snort, despite myself, forgetting about my cell still running a call on my dresser. 

“Jude?” Fand questions.

“Um, Fand, I’ll call you back in a bit, okay?” I hardly hear her answer as I end the call, tossing the phone on the bed. I walk over to the window and pull it up. I rest my elbows on the sill, watching amused as Cardan squats down to be leveled with me.

He tugs the end of my braid, grinning, “Can I come in?”

I pretend to think, “What’s in it for me?”

“Anything you want, princess.” His eyes glimmer in the moonlight. He leans in closer and I can smell cinnamon gum on his breath. “Please,” he pleads, “It’s cold out here, Jude.” My mouth tingles at the barely there brush of his against mine. My tongue darts out, wetting my lips and I take a tentative step back for him to maneuver in. The chilled air also seems to follow him in, making goosebumps prick at my skin. I resist the urge to cover myself and take a few steps back until the back of my knees hit my bed. I take a seat, finding the koala I had thrown from my chair and bring it onto my lap, digging my fingers into its fur. 

He sits on the ledge, obscuring most of the cool air from directly hitting me. He nods his head to my phone, curiously, “Who was that?”

I shrug, following his line of sight in time to see a message come through from Fand. I swipe it away, glancing at the time reading well after midnight. “A friend.”

“Oh, I’ve heard that song before,” Cardan teases. He brings his tongue to the back of his teeth, and to my annoyance, begins a series of ‘la-la-la’s’ in tune with the chorus of Biz Markie’s “Just a Friend.”

“She is,” I insist. Contrary to what my stepmother may think of me being this lonesome child, I did have a few friends in high school and Fand was by far the closest. We kept in touch throughout our first semester, and met up a handful of times since I’ve been back. But, despite that, despite the hour long conversation I just ended with her, I’ve been feeling like a stranger. 

I give my stepbrother an inquiring look, wondering why he’s so far away and why we’re both acting so coy. I run the nail of my forefinger over my thumb, jolting when I snag a scabbed over bruise. Absently, I bring the scored finger to my mouth as I take him in. He looks flushed, undoing the scarf around his neck before running his fingers through his dark, windblown tresses. A silver pendant glints against his black shirt –  a small double cross pendant on a roll chain. I rub my hand over my cheek and raise my brow in question. He grins when he catches my eyes and asks, “How was your run this morning?”

“My run?” I repeat, miffed. I’m partially dazed, entranced by how stark he looks against the backdrop of my very bright room; donned with a dark pair of jeans, laced up boots and what looks like a dark sherpa lined coat only enhanced by the crème colored walls and fairy lights strewn up – along with fake greenery and miscellaneous photos hooked in between – at the far corner of my room.

He turns, taking in the new decor and taps a photo closest to him, musing lightly, “When did you put this up?”

 “A few hours ago,” I admit. “Have you always been partial to the color black?”

“I’m more of a gold guy,” he says, scrunching his nose in a way I can’t help but find almost cute. His nose ring shines when he tilts his head just right, and for the first time since I’ve known Cardan Greenbriar, I feel quite shabby in comparison. My pajama pants are fuzzy and juvenile with its cow printed pattern,  and the large gray shirt I have on does nothing to help accentuate my body. “You didn’t even kiss me goodbye,” he brings back the conversation, almost pouting at me.

“Kiss you goodbye,” I repeat dryly. I grip the koala a little tighter. “Sorry?” I offer, a moment later and he shrugs absently. “Where’d you go? Today, I mean. You were gone when I came back,” I point out, aware of how suddenly I'm the one with the accusatory tone.

He looks at me carefully when he answers, “A friend asked for some help. She’s moving furniture around.”

“She?” It comes out before I can stop myself. Him asking about Fand felt so light compared to the dread I feel asking about his friend.

He rests his head back against the window and watches me, slightly amused. “Mmhmm,” he hums and assures me, “no one to be worried about though, little sister.” His lips tilt up and I throw the teddy at him. He catches it in one hand, then brings it close to him for a cuddle. I'm all too aware of how empty and exposed I feel without it as armor. 

“That’s not what I was getting at,” I mumble. My stomach churns, feeling a rush of complicated emotions twisting deep within me. Jealousy, I can admit to myself, and a pitiful type of envy as I watch the beady eyes of my stuffed animal he holds so tenderly. I play with the tips of my hair, fiddling with the elastic that holds the tight braid together. It’s a little too tight, and maybe that’s why my skull is pounding right now. “Why did you come through the window, by the way? I’m sure our parents don’t care about a curfew for you.” If I sound bitter about that, he decidedly ignores it.  

"Have you considered that maybe, I just like the thrill of things," he says playfully, his eyes holding something daring and challenging within them. A wicked grin curls onto his lips and I let out a huff of air, trying not to think back on all his thrilling ideas before. A tingle crawls up my spine, unpleasantly. This time I don’t ignore the shiver and I cross my arms over my chest.

I roll my eyes, “Okay, you adrenaline junkie, can you close the window now? Pneumonia isn’t very thrilling, so to speak.” 

He instead places the koala on the bookshelf and moves to come closer to me, though he pauses when I give his boots a pointed look. He retracts, settling back against the window, instead of undoing his laces like I thought he would. “Come here, first,” he barters. I blink in hesitation, and while I try to remain seated, my feet lead me to him anyway. I roll my eyes, annoyed with myself, wondering if I’d bark, too, if he told me to get on all fours for him. 

I toe at his boot when we’re close together, staring down at the chipped polish on my nails against his scuffed leather. I’m avoiding his gaze because it’s so damn bright in my room that I know if I meet his eyes, I’ll find that his dark irises are not black as midnight, but a deep brown with tiny, lighter flecks of amber around the edges. I’ll get lost in them like I shouldn’t, fall just a little deeper, maybe, forget that this is a game and fold. He tilts my chin up and my heart’s nearly steady rhythm skyrockets as soon as my gaze falls on his lips. “Hi,” I say, quietly.

“Jude,” Cardan says just as breathlessly, and it catches me off guard at first. My name sounds like sin…like desire, when he says it, and as I place my fingers over his chest, I wonder if the devil has ever called out a saint’s name so enticingly. ‘Eve,’ the snake whispered, ‘bite the apple’ must be tantamount to ‘Jude, ride my fingers.’ His lips twitch, a lone finger tracing pink in my cheek, and he asks, “What are you thinking?”

I don't answer. I reach for the cross dangling from his neck, testing the weight on the tip of my finger. It’s heavier than most pendants its size, and when I flip it over, I’m not surprised to see the letters ‘c’ and ‘h’ embossed on it. I want to twist the chain around my fingers until it purples my skin, until it embeds in his flesh, until he struggles for breath – maybe then he’ll feel an ounce of what I feel when I'm this close to him. I trace up the chain, following it to where his skin is flushed from the weather. I find a bruising mark along the juncture of his neck. I bite my tongue, embarrassed to know that I was the one who left it there. I finger it lightly and he shudders, to my surprise. His lashes flutter and his lips part. 

Astounded, I trace the mark again and watch, enthralled as he sucks in a breath. His heated hand grasps my iced one, removing it from his skin. He squeezes it lightly, thawing my fingers before letting them go. My hands then move to his hips, creeping towards his back, sneaking into the warmth of his jacket. Cardan’s hand against my face splays, fingers reaching to my neck, his other hand goes to my hair, curling it like a rope around his wrist and bending my head back. He leans closer, cinnamon wafting over my cheeks. I want to kiss him, I realize. Not in the throws of passion or under the guise of secrecy, I just want to kiss him soft and sweet; press our lips together for just a second. Perhaps, I had done myself a disservice, not kissing him goodbye this morning. Lost a chance of daylight reaching our sins. 

His eyes search mine, he’s annoyed, I think drably, but he holds me in place with no malice touching his features. His thumb traces the darkness under my eye, indication of my lack of sleep. “Is it me?” His question confuses me for a moment, and I grip his shirt just a bit tighter. “Something else? Daddy?” I frown at that when I follow his thought process. Dad, guilt, Asha… I try to turn my face but he doesn’t let me cower. His eyes search mine, then he offers, “Do you want to get out of here?”

I hesitate to answer, only because I’m not quite sure of how grand of a scope his question entails. Get out of my room, or get out of this life? “It’s past my curfew,” I finally murmur stupidly, my breath hitching when our lips meet briefly.

His lips stretch against mine. “Go find a jacket,” He turns me to face my closet and I stumble towards it, colder the further I move away from him.

“Should I change?” I ask, looking down at my sleepwear.

“What’s the point, if I'm going to get you out of them, anyways?” I scowl and turn my head to him. His smile is boyish as he surrenders, “Joking – I would dare not corrupt my darling little sister, of course.”

“You’re sick,” I tell him, now deciding on remaining in my frumpy attire out of spite. He laughs out a stupid childish phrase, implying I was the sick one, not him. I fight the urge to stick my tongue out at him and head to my closet, finding the only coat not currently hanging downstairs in the foyer. I grab a pair of thick socks from a drawer and then proceed to slip on sneakers that have seen better days. They’re no pristine, white high tops like Vivienne's but they do the trick all the same. “How do I look?”

I give him a turn, not really expecting a response as I walk up to him – I’m sure I resemble a clown school drop out – but I let out a startled noise when he pulls the scarf from his neck and wraps it around my own. “It’s cold,” he explains. It’s a soft cashmere and smells just like him. He climbs out the window first, not giving me a chance to respond, then holds out a hand to help me out. I keep my mouth closed, nuzzling deeper into his scarf as he explains how to get down. I’m only half hearing his words as the thrill of sneaking out starts to surface by the tremble of my body. He navigates his way down first, making sure I'm closely following behind. I feel a little giddy, and perhaps it shows on my face when Cardan glances at me. His soft smile seems responsive to my mood. He throws an arm over my shoulder and quietly leads us past his car and towards the sidewalk, then a little ways down.

He finally pauses far enough away, under the shelter of trees at the dead end of the cul-de-sac where not even the neighboring houses’ security lights can touch us. We’re in front of a pick-up truck, old and rusted and not at all something I’d ever picture Cardan driving; seemingly out of place even in my neighborhood. My eyebrows shoot up when he opens the door and gestures me in. “This is humbling,” I finally manage, laughing at the absurdity of it all. He holds a hand out to me and I take it, letting him help me into the cab. It’s a little shabby, but I feel more comfortable than I did in his car. Maybe it’s because the truck holds no awkward memories I constantly have to face in it.

He jogs over to the other side, quickly turning dials to blast the heat. He keeps the windows down only a crack to diminish any fog on the glass, then pulls on to the road. My fingers wiggle in front of the vents, warming them up, humming to the low music his radio plays. His lips tilt in a small smile, “I told you, I was helping a friend.”

My eyebrows shoot up, “So you rented this?

“Baby, I own this,” he says almost proudly. “None of Daddy’s money and all.” He shrugs and turns the music up, “Have you ever seen Insmire during the holidays? We missed the Halloween decorations, but Christmas is something else.”

“No,” I shake my head and lean back, tucking my chin to snuggle into his scarf. I wonder idly when the warm musky scent of him has turned into something comforting for me. “I never really had a reason to go to Insmire.”

He glances at me then nods to the canvas bag by my feet, “You cold? There’s a blanket in there.” I reach down and pull out a thick beige knitted throw with gold sequins scattered here and there. Before I can mention anything Cardan says, “Nicasia didn’t want it, said you’d probably like it.”

I tuck it back into the bag, “Nicasia?” it takes me a minute to realize that she’s the friend he’d been helping. Something sours knots in my stomach and I try to ignore it. Had he driven that far to see her, or did she also live much closer than I knew? “From the party? She… knows about us?” It’s stupid to ask, I know before he answers. I think about Ghost and what he asked me that night, if I wanted them to watch – wanted my stepbrother to watch. He knew, so of course she knew, too. 

“Jude,” Cardan laughs, “She got her rocks off watching me watch you; I’m sure she might have an inkling of how constantly I think about fucking my stepsister.” 

“Oh,” I mumble, wryly, “Is that how her rocks got off?”

“I might have helped some,” He laughs, turning the radio up. “I think she likes you,” he offers and I squirm.

“Yeah, well, I don’t like you.”

“Little liar. I think you like me a lot. And it’s more than just the dirty shit I do to you; you like me as a person and all that.” In another world, I’d agree and we’d call this our third date.

I grind my molars, staring out the window, watching the lights pass us by. “I don't even think I know you as a person, really. Like, what do you even major in?”

“Psychology,” he says, not missing a beat.

“Really?” I ask, surprised. “Why that?”

“Wish I had a better therapist when I was 7,” he drops on me. “What better way to fix the system than from within?”

I look at him with high brows, “Really? I mean- I… I’m so sorry, Cardan -”

“I am pretty exceptional at coloring within the lines, though,” he smiles almost indifferently. “I think that's really all I did in her office - color worksheets she’d give me.” I part my lips, but he changes the subject, “You ever been ice skating?”

“No…” I say, slowly, accepting the new information and trying not to pry where he doesn't want me to. “I’m not really into sports - I never even learned how to ride a bike.”

“You run,” he points out, to which I shrug as this was something new to me too. “Wait, you don't know how to ride a bike?” I let out a startled laugh because yeah, that does seem incredulous. 

“He may not seem like it, but Dad worries a lot. He’s never let me experience scraped knees. I don’t even have my ears pierced.” I give him a grin but he doesn't reciprocate. His eyes are trained in front of him, glancing up at street signs so my eyebrows furrow when Cardan reaches blindly, fingers touching my ear, thumbing where a first piercing would be. “Oh,” I say, “I guess it’s weird that I took your earrings then - do you want them back?”

He rolls his eyes, making a turn as his fingers glide down to my shoulder, then lower to my hand, encasing it in his. “Don’t be stupid, Jude.”

We talk casually, asking and answering more asinine questions – whatever we must have missed on our road-trip home. I give his fingers a squeeze when I get more comfortable, giggling a bit as Cardan sings off-key to the Christmas song playing on the radio. I turn my head to the window, watching as gradually, bare houses with some fairy lights slowly transcend into houses adorned with strings of multicolored lights blinking in harmony. Every single tree we pass by has an array of lights shining brightly. Inflatable Santas and reindeers sway in the winter breeze. It’s almost whimsical. I lean closer to the window, aware of Cardan slowing down for me to see. Sure, Insmoor had their fair share of décor, but Insmire felt like being inside a snow globe.

“This doesn't feel real,” I whisper in wonder. I roll down the window halfway, sticking my head out the car to get a better look. Cardan’s hand holds mine a bit tighter, as if he’s scared I'd fall out. The decorations become more intricate, with some houses featuring life-sized nutcrackers and snowmen. Strings of lights with snowflakes and baubles at the end hang from bare trees, looking like giant ornaments floating in the air. Even the towering Christmas trees are visible through the windows. One house even has a Grinch placed by their chimney. They all look like different scenes from different Christmas movies.“Cardan - look!” The air carries the familiar scent of winter pine, and for a moment, the festive atmosphere transports me back in time.

The memories flood, foggy, but still there, and suddenly, the smile on my face feels like it’s worth too much effort. I recall silver thistle wrapped around a small tree, baubles with our names on it. Jude, Eva, Madoc. “It’s so pretty, Mommy!” I said as dad lifted me on his shoulders, letting me place an angel on the top of the tree, followed by a distant response of,“Just like you my baby.” A scene so warm makes me feel so cold now. When did I stop believing in Santa? It had to have been after Mom left - but had Dad ever attempted to keep up pretenses after that year? I can't remember a happy holiday with just my father and I. Even with Asha's added presence, we never went for usual Christmas traditions, though it was probably the only time I ever received a wrapped gift or Christmas cookies - albeit store bought, it still embraced the holiday that in a way, my dad had halted.

“Jude?” Cardan's voice breaks through my reverie, calling my name with concern. I don't answer immediately; the emotions threaten to overwhelm me. I wipe my eyes, taking a moment to center myself. My hand feels cold in his. 

“Even your house is decorated,” I point out, trying to mask the sudden croak in my voice. The truck rolls to a stop in front of someone’s lawn. His front lawn might be the most tame, though still painting a picture of a snow-family opening presents by a large Christmas tree.

I see Cardan run a hand through his hair from my window’s reflection. The cheery glow seems to turn into an uncomfortable spotlight. He looks torn on whether to answer me or offer me comfort. “Yeah, we…pay people to do that for us.” He’s concerned when he asks, “Jude, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I wipe at my nose and turn to give him a smile. It wavers and feels forced, not fooling either of us. “I just remembered… I just… I haven’t had homemade hot chocolate until your mom showed up.” I feel like I’m somehow betraying him by telling him this. “I didn’t even know what Elf on a Shelf was until she started living with us.”

His eyes flash; he looks almost… defeated. “Yeah?” he tugs my hand, and I let him pull me closer, let him turn me and guide me on to his lap. He shifts us down to the center, making sure the steering wheel wouldn’t dig into me. I place my palms on his chest as he undoes the scarf, letting it hang around my neck, then works on my zipper, smoothly sliding it down and unhooking it.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper as I lower my head to his. Sorry I fell for Asha - wish I fell for you, first.

He seems to hesitate, his gaze lingering not exactly on me, but at me. "She’s not my favorite person, but if she’s yours, then..." he shrugs, and pulls me closer, his hands coming to my hips, sliding beneath my shirt to the small of my back. “It's a little funny,” he smirks with no mirth, “She never even knew how to make hot chocolate when I used to visit. She burned chocolate in the microwave once. Unrelated, but I never went back after that year.” 

I frown, tracing the curve of his lips with my thumbs. “What did she do?” I ask, before I can stop myself. My eyes grow wide, “Don’t answer that, sorry -”

He cuts me off, giving me a dry smile, “It’s all water under the bridge, don’t worry your pretty little head over it.”

“Cardan…”

As if it explains anything, he says, “My mother is a devout catholic now, repenting and all that,” his droll is sardonic. “Maybe she’d be proud of how biblically I want you.”  his fingers creep higher, thumbs maneuvering over my breasts making me suck in breath when he caresses my peaked nipples. I bite down on my lip; I think I know him well enough to know he’s deflecting, but I don't mind. His hands are so, so, so warm. “I wouldn't be here if I didn't think I could handle it. Don't worry, little sister.” He trails off quietly, a far off look on his face. His thumbs are absently rubbing over me in small circles. My knees twitch and I feel the shake in my thighs as I grind down on his lap, reaching for some type of friction. He sucks in a breath, fingers digging into my skin. His lips twitch, eyes gleaming when he meets mine, “Anyways, you can tell Daddy that I think you ride just fine, baby sister.” 

I grit my teeth, sliding my hands to cup the back of his neck. I grip at the hair at his nape, moving my hips a little harder. “Fuck you,” I manage, and he just smiles, so awfully, holding on to me as I continue to take what I can from him, like a damned hypocrite. My nails dig into his scalp and my head falls back. I feel warm and flushed and lightheaded. His nail scrapes against my nerves, and I bite down hard on my bottom lip. Heat pools between my legs the more he circles my nipples. They get so sensitive so fast that it starts to feel like torment. “Ah,” I whisper, my nails on the brink of breaking his skin.

There’s a rush in my ears and it takes me some time to realize Cardan is speaking to me, whispering to me, praising me, taking nonsense,“...good… you look so fucking good…so pretty…riding this dick…” I let out a moan when he shifts his hips and we align perfectly. “I wonder,” he breathes, “how often you hump your pillows… like this… ride your stuffed toys… wishing it was me….” I’m too gone to be embarrassed. I want to undo his pants but I don't want to let go of him, I don't want him to let go of me, either. He reaches down, biting me over my shirt and I let out a cry when he tugs at the peaked tips of my breasts, one after the other.

Cardan’s fingers are bruising into my skin and when I glance down, he’s already looking up at me. The lights flicker against his necklace, taunting me, and for a moment, I imagine it dangling off his bare neck, teasing my skin as he hovers over me. I lean down until my lips are by his ear and bite down on his earlobe. He pinches me under my shirt, in retaliation, before rubbing his fingers over the soreness. I suck in a breath, feeling hot and heady, rubbing harder on him until the ache in my clit is satiated. 

“Which one was it,” he whispers. “The snake?”

“No,” I manage.

“Koala? Cat…?” His grunts are labored, I shake my head against him, and I lift my hips just a bit to bounce on him. “A pillow?”

I whimper and his hands slide down to my hips, kneading at my flesh guiding me roughly. My eyes screw tight, as heat erupts inside of me. I pull his chain from the back, letting the cross dagger into his skin, press into the hollow of his neck, while I ride the last of the euphoric wave. My lips move against his skin, “no… I have a different toy. One that vibrates. I’ll let you watch one day.”

His eyes are lidded, when I pull away to look at him. His breaths come out shallow as I slow to a stop. He brings a hand to my hair, winding my braid until my neck pulls back. He bites down right under my chin, pulling away with a harsh suck of skin. “I’ll hold you to it.”

He slowly unravels my hair and my fingers shake as I hold on to him, trying to catch my breath. “Do you…” I can't find my words, falling forward to place my head against his. My hands slowly lets go of him, falling from his neck and down to his chest. I go lower, reaching the button on his jeans, “You didn’t…”

He closes his eyes, taking in a breath, “Just stay still for a moment.” He gives me a dry laugh, “It’s not so easy to clean up come in my current position, as it is for you to hide how wet your panties are.” I roll my eyes, but heed his request. Finally, he opens his eyes and searches mine. “You look tired.”

I snort, “no kidding.”

He grins, “I should get you back home now. You’re due for a run in a few hours then I'm sure you’ll follow Asha to mass later, right?” I grimace at that but nod anyway, feeling a little more than anxious about Sunday service.

“I feel another sleepless night coming,” I admit. He slowly moves his other hand from under my shirt to hold my face, and I tell him, “It’s not you, by the way.” He gives me a questioning look and I smile as much as I can for him. “The longest I’ve slept since we’ve been back was last night, in your arms.” I lean in to give him the kiss we’d missed out on before. He grabs my chin, not letting me fully pull away, and presses his lips to mine again, turning the soft peck into something more, parting my lips with his own, coating my tongue with cinnamon. 

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[ellethespaceunicorn]

Fifteen Minutes

I was tagged by the lovely @peyton-warren for this amazing writing challenge thought up by @mantorokk-writes.

Title: Fifteen Minutes

Character: Walter Marshall x Unnamed Black!OFC

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Word Count: 374

Summary: What Walter does with 15 minutes of his time.

Warnings: male masturbation, creampie, swearing (gasp!), use of Daddy as a pet name

A/N: And you aren't seeing double, this has been posted before but I wanted it on its own.

Dividers: @firefly-graphics

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Walter looks at his watch and decides that fifteen minutes is more than enough time to crank out a quick one.

He sets his phone on vibrate and sets it aside. Any other day, he would pull up some kind of something on his phone to watch while he gets in the mood. But with what she was wearing today, he doesn’t need to do much mental gymnastics to get right back there.

He takes his dick out and closes his eyes to think about her.

He imagined her sitting in his lap, her black denim skirt riding up her thick brown thighs. The sound of her fishnet tights ripping as he tore a hole in the crotch of them was music to his ears. His dick was already out, full, and sitting up out of his open jeans.

He would reach down between them and make the head of his dick nice and wet with her juices as she moaned in his ear. Sliding inside, they both his at the tight squeeze. He grabs her hips and begins to move her in a slow and steady rhythm up and down his length. Her arms around his neck and her hands in his hair leave her lips to connect with his.

He loves when her hands are in his hair. Her little obsession drives him wild.

He grabs a handful of her ass before smacking it loudly. Growling into her mouth as she answers with a moan. 

“Oh, fuck, Princess. You feel so fucking good, babygirl.” 

“Fuck, Daddy, you feel even better.”

He begins to move his hips, fucking up into her tight pussy as she takes everything she gives him. 

“Daddy, come inside me. Give me a baby, Daddy. Please, fuck a baby into me.”

He thinks he hears wrong at first but the way she keeps saying it has him realizing he did in fact hear correctly. His hips stutter as he can feel his balls tighten.

“Have my kids, Princess. I’m gonna make you a Mommy…ugh, fuck!”

He can feel every spurt of cum as his dick shoots deep inside her. 

His eyesight is struggling as he comes back to himself. His hand and sweater were covered in thick, creamy ropes.

No pressure as always: @milknhonies @cardierreh15 @headcannonxgalore @thirstnotes @shewriteswhenthewordscome @deandoesthingstome @mayloma

If you already reblogged or liked or posted your drabble on the other post, awesome!!!

[megamindsecretlair]

Be My Little Darling - Chapter 5

Chapter 4 Chapter 6

Pairing: Loki x Black!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. You are in charge of your own reading experience. Mentions of blood and gore. Smut. Fingering (fem receiving), oral (male receiving), Dom Loki. Mentions of survivor's guilt.

Summary: Loki is the exclusive owner of the hottest club in New Asgard. Dubbed the Nine Realms, each of the nine rooms represent a different realm. You are his second in command, working the floors and ensuring everyone is having fun. An accident in one of the rooms forces you and Loki together as you try to puzzle out who is after Loki.

Word Count: 4,907k

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A/N: I had too much fun writing this, so I hope you have fun reading! Loki is like...the perfect muse. Likes are always awesome. Please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers!

Taglist: @braverthanthenewworld @cantstayawaycani @monaeesstuff @xorpsbane @headcannonxgalore @chaos-4baby @dayjlovesromance

Screaming. There was lots of screaming coming from down the hall. You were in the Jotunheim room, freezing your tits off, when the sound of screaming made you stop talking. The patron in front of you was about to mouth off but you held up a hand. You tilted your head, searching for the sound, and you heard it again.

Footsteps pounded outside of the room and there was a flurry of activity running just outside the door. “It’s okay, everyone!” You called out. 

You motioned towards the DJ to turn up the music. You motioned for the waitresses and waiters to refill everyone’s drink. You smiled and made an effort to walk to the door at a normal speed. 

Once there, employees and patrons were running and screaming towards the front entrance. You stopped one of the waiters. “What’s going on?” 

“It’s sick!” He said. He looked a little green and held his mouth, presumably thinking of whatever the hell was going on. He wasn’t going to be useful so you let him go and moved down the hallway. You felt like a fish trying to swim upstream. There were so many people. 

Other rooms had people leaning out of it to see what was going on. On your way, you assured them that everything was fine and pushed them back into their respective rooms with the promise of a free round.

Panic climbed up your throat but there was nothing to panic about right now. If it was a fire, the alarms would go off. Sprinklers would turn on and drench the place. If it was a shooter, you’d hear gunshots or more yelling. You ran through a list of scenarios and the safeguards you had in place.

Unless…unless whoever was fucking with the club was at it again. You tried not to worry about that, but the fact that Loki didn’t know what was going on scared you in many ways. He was the god of mischief. And the things that had been happening around the club reeked of mischief. He wouldn’t sabotage his own club, not even for fits and giggles. So who? 

There was a big crowd in one of the hallways surrounding the Nidavellir room. You pushed through the throng of people until you got to the entrance. There were still a lot of patrons inside, along with some actors, and Honey stood off to the side of the stage. She was fuming and cursing up a storm in Spanish.

When she saw you, she only got angrier. “I told you! I told you something like this was going to happen!” 

You crossed the room to her and she grabbed your hand. She pulled you towards the stage where an actress, Angel, had her leg stuck in a hole. The stage had collapsed around her leg and there were torn and bloody pieces of wood next to her. Angel’s makeup was ruined and running down her tear-filled cheeks.

She held herself up but her arms were shaking with the effort. There were a few guys surrounding her, trying to get her up, but any time they moved her, Angel screamed and sobbed harder. 

“Shit, shit,” you muttered. The stage had slipped your mind. After dealing with the mind-controlled idiots, they hadn’t offered any explanation for their actions or their whereabouts beforehand. Loki said he would handle it and that was the end of it. On top of your other duties, a few days had passed and you hadn’t even thought of the stage.

You sighed. You’d have to start carrying around a notebook or something. You were usually better than this. You blamed it on another restless night searching for information on your family. 

“Okay, boys, stop! You’re making it worse. Angel, we’re going to get you out and I need you to hold on a little longer.” 

“I told you this would happen! If you two had listened to me…” 

“Honey! Not now. Get these people out of here. Either offer them a different room or comp them two free drinks on a return.” 

Honey opened her mouth to argue more but you lifted an eyebrow. She ran her tongue over her teeth before smirking. “You’re even starting to act like him. It’s weird!” She turned around and started to usher the onlookers out of the room.

“And someone turn off that damn music!” You yelled. This room had thumping, rhythmic music that was doing nothing for your growing headache. No sooner had you yelled it, did the DJ cut the music. 

“Thank the gods,” you sighed.

“My thanks usually come with gifts,” Loki said.

You sighed harder. You half turned to see him weaving through tables to reach you. You always saw him in that damn black suit and yet it was like seeing him for the first time. He always managed to look crisp and unbothered. Every button in its place, the flower on his lapel, and his long hair tucked behind his ears. 

He stalked towards you, his eyes trained on you, and stopped just in front of you. “What’s going on?” 

“Well, it appears Angel fell through the stage,” you said.

Loki huffed a laugh and looked at you. “I have eyes, Darling,” he said.

“Then why did you…? You know what, I don’t care. It’s being handled. Don’t you have ale to drink somewhere? Deals to make?” You asked.

Loki stared at Angel and the stage. He knocked on the wooden floor and crossed his arms. “I can conjure some pillows to help, but we need to stop her bleeding before she passes out,” he said. 

“I can handle this, Loki,” you said.

“Have I implied you couldn’t?” He looked at you and you bit the inside of your cheek. This felt like a test. One you were failing. You didn’t know what his hidden agenda was but you had no time for it. He was offering to help. Two heads were better than one. 

You looked at the men still standing on the stage. You looked at the tallest and skinniest. “I need your belt. You’re going to wrap your belt around her leg to stop the bleeding.” 

You hopped onto the stage, but you weren’t tall enough to swing your leg in one go. Instead, you hopped backwards scooting your booty onto the stage. Loki watched you work and grinned when you caught him staring at your bare legs. You rolled your eyes as you swiveled on your butt and rolled onto your feet. 

Loki hopped onto the stage in one fluid motion. He moved like a dancer, born to do it. He stalked across the stage and spoke softly to Angel. He managed to make her laugh. He conjured two pillows for her arms and she sighed a bit as he slipped it under her forearms and side. 

The actor you pointed to had his belt off and tied it around Angel’s leg. You conjured a saw and handed it to the actor with the biggest muscles. “Cut around her leg. We’re gonna let gravity do most of the work. If someone hasn’t done so, call the police. She’s going to need an ambulance,” you called out.

People rushed to do your bidding as you directed them on what to do. Mercifully, Loki stayed out of most of it. He let you take care of everything. Angel was free but there was a river of blood down her leg. There were scratches and one deep gash on her leg that everyone recoiled from.

You smiled at Angel and told her that everything would be alright. That you would go with her to the hospital and it would all check out.

“Send Honey. I need you here,” Loki said. 

You held your first, second, and third responses before turning to him with a grin. “I want to make sure she’s okay,” you said. 

“She will be. I have another use for you,” he said. 

You took a deep breath and told someone to find Honey. As the janitors got there, you told them to leave the area alone until you were able to investigate what happened. They only needed to gather the loose pieces and put up cones. 

You directed people to close off the room, clean up the dishes, and clear out. Once everyone had a job to do, Honey came into the room. She was still cursing in Spanish but was gentle with Angel. Honey shot you and Loki a dirty look before escorting the paramedics inside. 

They loaded Angel onto a stretcher and Honey was there to keep them all in line. Loki waited for you on the side of the stage. He stood like a lifesize painting. In moments like these, you saw the godliness. He was regal in every sense of the word. And beautiful. Still an ass. 

You walked over to him, ready to give him a piece of your mind. He smiled and held up a hand. “I know. But I believe this is the work of our saboteur and I’d like your help,” he said. 

You stopped short of getting into his personal space and squinted at him. “Who are you?” 

He smirked. “It’s me, honest.” He walked closer and hung his head to look into your eyes. 

“Someone is messing with my club and you are the only one I trust,” he said. “I know we can get to the bottom of this.”

“How? Whoever is doing this isn’t taking credit. And they’re able to do it without being here,” you said.

“I think they are here. No one can work remote magic. Perhaps a witch, but this isn’t their style,” he said.

“You think it’s a magic user after you?” You asked.

“I know it is,” he said. 

You nodded and chewed on your lip. It would make sense for it to be magic that’s been causing a ruckus. But why? And who would do it? 

“Come. While we have the chance,” he said. He turned on his heel and hopped off of the stage. He turned and held out his hand to you. You rolled your eyes but you also didn’t want to bust your head open trying to prove a point.

You held his hand and climbed down off of the stage. His strong hands stabilized your waist as you got down. “Thank you,” you said.

He grinned. “My thanks usually come with gifts,” he said.

“My gift is not stomping on your foot,” you said and grinned innocently at him. He chuckled and let you go. You missed him instantly. 

Was it so hard for you to give in and say the words? How hard was it to say, “Okay, Loki. Fuck me like one of your conquests”?

Partially. You wanted the experience with none of the messy feelings. In a cruel twist of irony, that wasn’t what Loki was after. He wanted your feelings while he gave none of his own. He wanted to own you, body and spirit. And you didn’t want to give it to him. You wanted to keep your heart firmly in your own hands. 

You followed him out of the room and towards the back of the club. You walked a bit behind him. Only because his strides were so long and your legs were so short in comparison. You watched that strut of his.

It would break you to be hurt by him. You would truly be broken. Like a kid that had played too rough with their dolls. He would wreck you in the worst way if you gave everything to him and he gave nothing in return. 

He didn’t “do” feelings. Your refusal was all part of some sick and twisted game in his mind. You weren’t the first person to say no to him. You weren’t even the fifth. For a reason you couldn’t fathom, it bothered him when you said no. If it was merely about pleasure, you would understand.

No one liked being told no. Rejection was an acidic taste no one wanted to experience. So naturally, people wanted what they couldn’t have. He could have your body, he just couldn’t have your heart. So what was his deal? 

He made a turn before his office and you followed, confused on his destination. Until he was outside of the security room. Loki opened the door, scaring the poor guard on the inside. 

“We need the room,” Loki said. 

The guard was petrified of Loki. You bit your lip to keep from laughing at the poor man. He was older, retired police, with a shock of white hair and a bushy white mustache. He swallowed painfully, audibly, as he nodded profusely and exited the room without another word.

“Words like ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ go a long way, you know,” you said.  

“I know,” Loki said. He smiled as he closed the door behind you and locked it. Your stomach flipped. The security room was just big enough for four people to stand in comfortably. Only big enough for two people to sit in comfortably. 

There were monitors all over the room showing various camera angles of different rooms, hallways, common areas. There were only a few in the employee lounge and break room, offering minimal privacy. There were a million cameras in the actual club rooms, kitchens, and bar areas. 

On the desk, there was a large switchboard. There were so many buttons and levers, you weren’t sure what to make of it. Loki sat down in the chair previously occupied by the guard and his fingers flew over the switchboard with ease.

“How do you know how to work that thing?” You asked. 

“I know everything about my club. Including Earth contraptions,” he said. His rumbling voice filled the quiet room. It only highlighted how intimate the space was. You crossed your arms. You didn’t like this. Not one bit. 

You weren’t claustrophobic, but the dark room did remind you of the ship. The ship that carried you here. Guilt still snuck up on you sometimes. You were close to getting killed. It was only up to Thanos who got killed and who got spared. You happened to stand on the correct side. 

You shook the memories off. It wasn’t your fault that the monster played judge and executioner. You focused on Loki’s fingers as they moved across the board.

He brought the Nidavellir room up on the big screen and rewound the tape until Angel was going through her routine. Everything was fine until her foot went through the stage. There was no one around her, except for the other dancers in her routine. 

“What are we looking for?” You asked.

“The stage should not have collapsed. It was specially made to be near indestructible. It would have taken a thousand Angel’s to break through it.” 

“But you see, there was no one on stage with her,” you said. 

Loki scoffed. “You can do better than that, Darling,” he said.

You sighed. You hated when he did that. It activated some petty and competitive side to you. You wanted to play on his level and pick out what he was thinking. It was stupid and childish and yet you found yourself leaning in. You placed your hands on the desk and leaned over to get a good look.

Loki obliged and ran the tape a few more times. You looked at everything but Angel. He was right. The saboteur wouldn’t have to be on stage, just in the room. He ran it one more time until you placed your hand on his arm.

“There!” You pointed to a hooded figure who was only partially in frame. They were facing away from the camera so you couldn’t see their face. But the figure turned away right before Angel’s leg went through the stage. Like they had anticipated everyone freaking out and ready to run out. 

“Very good, Darling,” he said. 

You rolled your eyes. You were also still holding his arm. You could feel him flexing beneath your hand. You snatched your hand away. 

“Afraid to touch me, Darling?” He asked. 

He pressed a series of buttons to zoom in on the figure but no other camera caught the person. 

“I could’ve been touching you this whole time. You’re the one who doesn’t want me to,” you said. 

“Is that what you think?” He was so fucking nonchalant. As if he were asking for the  weather or shipping updates. 

You didn’t answer him. You watched as he brought up different camera feeds, trying to follow the figure. They knew where the cameras were. It wasn’t hard to avoid the ones anyone could see. But they avoided the hidden ones as well. Impressive. The figure disappeared into the crowd as they ran from the room. The front entrance didn’t catch them leaving either. 

“Come here, Darling,” he said, using that same nonchalant tone. 

You scowled at him. He had pushed away from the desk and turned the chair in your direction. “No.” 

He grinned and pulled your arm. You struggled but he was stronger. He pulled you onto his lap so that your back was to his chest. “You know what to say to get me to stop,” he whispered in your ear. 

You scoffed but he was right. Some part of you wanted to see where this was going. He gripped your thighs and placed them outside of his. Then, he scooted the chair closer to the desk so that it wasn’t easy for you to get up. Your knees brushed the underside of the desk and you wiggled trying to get comfortable.

Loki hummed low, in the back of his throat. It was then that you noticed the hardening bulge under your ass. You stopped wiggling. 

“You mentioned when we started all of this that I couldn’t give you what you wanted. I know what you need but perhaps I went about it all wrong. I gave you too much time to think, to talk yourself out of it,” he said. 

His hands played with the hem of your skirt. His fingers skated over your thick thighs. You gasped softly. “What are you on about?” 

“My poor, overworked Darling,” he purred. 

His hands lifted your skirt and bunched it around your waist. Your breathing increased, but you tried to keep it contained. Keep it to yourself. 

“I left you with the option to think it over. To beg me to kiss and fuck you. You’re not going to do that. Your pride is too strong,” Loki whispered against your neck. 

“Finally, we agree on something,” you said. Your voice sounded a little breathy. 

Loki smiled against your neck and his fingers started to knead and seek the core of you. You placed your hands on his to keep him from going forward. You couldn’t think straight. Not with his hands on you. 

“Hands on the desk, Darling. Now,” he commanded. Your hands flew to the desk in front of you without even realizing it. You scowled, ready to chew him a new one before he kissed your neck. 

“If you move them, the game is over. If you tell me to stop, the game is over. Understand?” He asked.

You licked your lips and nodded. “I understand,” you said. Your heart was pounding in your chest. You couldn’t see his face. You couldn’t interpret his mood or guard yourself against what came next. And you liked it.

His fingers found your panties and he moved it to the side. He slipped his left hand through your folds and sighed at finding you wet. 

“I should’ve realized sooner that the issue was the decision. You needed it out of your hands. You decide and control everything all day long. Here, at home. Do you ever turn your brain off?” He asked. 

His hand played with your clit and you jerked. You moved your hand a little and he tsked at you. You bit your lip and placed your hands flat on the desk. 

“I have to be ready for anything,” you said. It was true. You were a firm believer in that anything that could go wrong, would go wrong eventually. You had backup plans for your backup plans.

Loki reached around you to mess with the switchboard again. The bastard was working while he was finally giving you what you wanted. He brought up the feed from the Nidavellir room again. This time, after the incident when you showed up. 

“Look at how in control of the situation you are. Never faltering. Look at how everyone looks to you,” he said. 

He continued to play with you and you were getting wetter by the second. You watched as you came into the room. Everyone looked at you. Even when Loki showed up, they were taking your cues. 

Loki slipped a finger inside you and you moaned. You dropped your head because it had been so fucking long since you had someone else’s hand inside of you. You took care of yourself when you got the chance. Lately, those chances were few and far inbetween. 

“Look at the screen. Keep your eyes on yourself,” he commanded in your ear. 

You struggled to lift your head. His fingers were long and he had them at an angle, rubbing against a spot inside of you that you hadn’t managed to get on your own. His finger stilled and you grunted.

“Eyes up, Darling. I won’t tell you again,” he said.

You sniffled a bit. You weren’t crying, but the pleasure felt so damn good. You were desperate to get his fingers moving again. So you lifted your head and focused blurrily on the image of you telling everyone what to do. 

Loki began to stroke your pussy and you moaned softly. “You do so much around here. I know I don’t always say it. But I am deeply grateful to have someone like you at my side. However, I am aware of what you need,” he said.

He added a second finger and you reared up. Loki groaned as you wiggled against his hard cock. He pumped his fingers in and out of you. You wanted to close your legs, it felt too fucking good, but he kept your legs on the outside of his. There was no way to close them. 

Your hands curled against the desk until they were fists. Your nails dug into your palms. Your moans filled the room and the wet suction of your pussy as his fingers slid in and out. He added his thumb to stroke your clit. 

“Fuck,” you moaned. Pressure built in your tummy as your orgasm floated to the surface. 

“You need to let go, my Darling. Let go, for once. Just feel,” he said. He kissed up and down the side of your neck. He bit your neck where it met your shoulder. “Let go.” 

“Oh fuck,” you wailed as you climaxed and flooded his fingers. 

When you were done, Loki pulled his fingers out of you. Then he shoved them into your mouth. “Suck.” 

You sucked his fingers, tasting your arousal. He moved more switches and pressed more buttons on the switchboard. He located the footage from the fight. The men that had attacked you had pulled up on their own and exited the car by themselves. It was mid afternoon but the parking lot was half full. 

Loki kissed your neck. “I wish you could see yourself right now. You’re so gorgeous after you cum,” he said.

You groaned. Somehow, you only wanted more. You weren’t satisfied with just his fingers. Loki pulled his fingers out of your mouth and licked up what you couldn’t get to.

Loki pushed away from the desk and massaged your thighs. They were beginning to ache a bit. His breath fanned over your neck and ear, raising goosebumps. He closed your legs and your arousal had cooled a bit in your panties.

He pushed you to stand and some part of you died. He got you off and now he was done with you. Discarded. 

Loki chuckled. “Do you think I’m done with you?” He asked. 

“Aren’t you?” 

Loki grinned. “Never. I’m never done with you. Not until I hear you beg for this cock. It won’t be now, it won’t be soon. But I will hear those words,” he said. 

Your jaw dropped. You didn’t understand him. And it was infuriating. You made a career of being able to read people well. And he made it more difficult with every word he spoke. 

“Don’t hold your breath,” you said. Though, you sounded tougher in your head. Your eyes kept dropping to his thick cock straining against his trousers. He noticed and rubbed himself over his pants. You thought he was going to say something smart about how you couldn’t get it unless you begged.

“Get on your knees,” he said.

He started to undo his belt. Your pussy tingled. You were crouching down and staring at his hands before it registered. You didn’t scowl this time. He unzipped himself and pulled his trousers down. You helped him bring them down a little further. 

He stroked himself and you licked your lips, watching the action. His dick was huge and his balls were heavy. Precum beaded at the tip before it slipped over the side and dripped down to the base. 

Loki rubbed his dick across your lips. “Put that impudent mouth to good use,” he said. 

You opened wide and slipped your lips over the thick tip. The saltiness of his cum coated your tongue and you licked up everything he gave. You bobbed your head slowly, trying to see how you could fit all of him and please him.

“No teasing, Darling. I have dreamed of this too often,” he said. 

You fought the urge to smirk. All that bullshit he sprouted about being able to last. You used your tongue and hands to add extra pressure as you began to suck him dry. The sound of you slurping his cock was nothing in comparison to his moans. He stared at you while you sucked him off. 

He encouraged you on what he liked and what he didn’t like. He coached you on how to take him how he wanted. Your pussy clenched hearing his words of praise. “My beautiful, Darling. Your mouth is heavenly,” he said. 

He couldn’t stop touching your face and hair, moving it out of the way of you pleasing him. He stopped talking as you sucked him harder, like a lollipop. He threw his head back and moaned. 

His mouth hung open and his eyes were closed tightly. He brought his hands to your head and began to move you faster. You choked a bit as he forced himself deeper down your throat. And you fucking loved it. You loved that he was fucking your mouth. That you were the one driving him this crazy. 

He moaned a bit more before he shoved into your mouth on one hard push. His cum squirted out of him and down your throat in hot pulses. You swallowed it all down and moaned. Your panties were fucking soaked and you pathetically clenched around nothing. You needed this beautiful cock inside you. You wanted to see his face as he slammed into you over and over.

Loki pulled out of your mouth and he bent forward in the chair. He kissed both of your cheeks, your forehead, and your lips. He pulled your hair until your neck was exposed and he kissed the length of it.

“So fucking gorgeous. So divine. You are a goddess,” he whispered. 

Your heart soared. You would live and die on his praise. If he kept it up, there would be no coming back down. Your head would swell ten sizes too big. 

You grinned and he kissed you again. Posessively. Madly and deeply. Your kisses were sloppy but no less hot. He pulled back and put his face against your cheek. He panted and nuzzled you until you were both calm enough to speak. 

“Why won’t you say the words?” 

It took you a minute to understand what he was asking. You were thankful that he couldn’t see your face as you answered.

“I don’t want to make it bigger than what it is. It’s just us fucking,” you said.

Loki kissed your cheek. “If that were all it was, this would have happened a long time ago. We’re past casual, Darling,” he said. 

You wanted to deny it. To hold on to your delusion that this was one sided. Or that he didn’t truly care, not that way. And why should you want his feelings? After he was done with you, he would move on to his next obsession. 

“I know you’re going to overthink this. Don’t. Clean yourself up and come back. We’ve got a saboteur to find,” he said.

He let you go and fixed his pants. You stood up with a frown. He still wasn’t going to fuck you. He said as much but you still held on to that pathetic sliver of hope. 

He stood up and smirked at you. He leaned in and kissed you. When he pulled back, he bit your lip. “Do as I say, Darling,” he said.

You rolled your eyes. “Fuck you!” 

His laugh followed you out of the room. Bastard.

Masterlist | Chapter 4 | Chapter 6

[multiversxwhore]

*a/n: this fic as most of mine usually do, will divert far from canon. My friend @cardierreh15 unintentionally encouraged me to write this, Ben Affleck is fine as hell(little miss daddy issues), and I did enjoy his version of Bruce Wayne/Batman. I hope you enjoy…if not please keep it moving. Reblogs, comments, and likes are appreciated, but reblogs are strongly encouraged. (This was supposed to be posted months ago)

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x black(fem) oc

Feature: @cardierreh15

Word count: 2k

Part One: Dive

Deep Dive 

Helena Richards stood in the back of the crowded room, half emptied champagne glass in hand, and a bored expression on her face. Her hazel brown eyes scanned the sea of rich white people, the only reason they showed up was to kiss Bruce Wayne’s ass; but, the reason she’s there is because Cardíerre Lane—her best friend— talked her into it. Cardíerre is also the person responsible for her job at Wayne Enterprise, though she’s never personally met Bruce Wayne, apparently he can’t be bothered to do his actual job. 

“Damn, look at that ass.” Someone’s voice purred huskily from behind Helena, her lips curled into a smirk, she knew only one person that would talk to her like that.

“Excuse me miss, don’t you have a boyfriend?” She teased, her body finally relaxed upon seeing the Metropolis reporter, Helena didn’t like any of her colleagues. Not enough to pretend to be interested in anything they have going on outside of work. Cardíerre grabbed a glass off a tray as it passed by her, she sipped it slowly, her mouth curving into a devious grin. 

“I wont tell if you wont?” The two women cracked up in laughter, the buzzing of everyones conversations swallowed their voices, that didn’t keep Clark Kent from hearing them as he walked through the large archway of Wayne Manor. He snuck an arm around Cardíerre’s waist, a warm smile stretched across his lips, he stuck his hand out, and offered it to Helena. She shook his hand, her lips parted, intending to crack a joke, but the sound of a glass tapping cut her off. A middle aged man dressed in an expensive looking suit walked out into the middle of the floor, he smiled charmingly, the guest began the quiet down at his call for attention. 

“Ladies, gentlemen, thank you for joining me, this is a special evening. Wayne Enterprises 100th birthday, so I decided to throw this party to not only celebrate that, but also the people responsible for keeping the lights on.” He paused, and the crowd laughed on cue, Helena rolled her eyes, “well, at least he’s handsome.” She mumbled to herself causing Clark to chuckle, she looked at him, then looked at Cardierre who hadn't heard a word of what Helena said. When he realized her eyes were on him, he let out a small cough as he awkwardly turned away from her gaze. 

“Anyway, I’m going to bore you, please, everyone enjoy yourselves, and please no talk of work tonight.” Bruce swallowed the champagne in one gulp, he handed his emptied glass to a server that was standing nearby, and made his way around the room idly chatting everyone up. Cardíerre turned to her friend who had found interest in her fresh set of acrylic nails, a disgruntled look etched onto her face, Helena isn’t one for social gatherings. That’s the main reason she pitched the idea for Cardíerre to attend the party as the plus one. 

“Don’t look too pouty, billionaire incoming.” Cardíerre whispered, she leaned towards Helena as she eyed Bruce’s movements towards them, Clark tightened his grip on Cardíerre. Bruce Wayne, his only reason for being here tonight, this really isn’t the time to cause a scene, but this would be his only time to get a word in. 

“Babe you okay?” Cardíerre turned to him, she gazed up into his beautiful cobalt irises, worry settled deep within them. He momentarily glanced at her, a quick hint of what he thought was a reassuring smile, but it did not look genuine. When she followed his line of sight to Bruce Wayne, she huffed in frustration, a conversation they had a while ago came to mind. ‘I just don’t like him, Cardi, he seems like a prick.’ Clark complained, to which Cardierre let out a breath of laughter. ‘Well duh, he’s rich.’ 

“Thank You.” Bruce had tried to hand another champagne glass he picked up, and halfway drank on his way over, to Helena; when Cardierre witnessed the expression on her friend's face, she almost choked on her drink.

“You really think a server girl would look this good in a dress like this?” Her tone sounded sharp, and disappointed. Bruce turned to get a better look at the woman beside him, his eyes drank her in, her curves accentuated, and her long copper orange hair falling over her dainty shoulders. His gaze trailed their way up to her face, she did her best to control her facial expression.

“How embarrassing, I’m sorry your name is?” Bruce offered a feign apology, one that seemed rehearsed, because of course he doesn't know the name of his employees. She mirrored his expression, mocking him, Cardíerre thought this to be a bold move considering this is her boss, ‘there she goes getting all hot headed.’ Cardíerre thought to herself. Clouds quickly settled into the sky, at only 7:30 pm on a summer's eve, the outside world darkened, and a bright flash of lightning crackled. Followed by a clap of thunder.

“Helena Richardson, PR department, I’m one of the people responsible for making your company look good while you’re never there.” Her incisive remark didn’t affect him at all, Bruce is aware that he's made an enemy out of most of the staff under Wayne Enterprise, but he knew his priorities as Batman would get in the way of his civilian life. A sacrifice he was willing to make. 

“Helena.” Cardíerre gently grabbed her by the forearm, Helena didn't have to bite so hard, she’s always been more sensitive between the two of them but she’s acting like a toddler tonight. This isn’t her usual behavior, Cardíerre knew her friend to be much softer, tender even, but lately Helena has been acting more attitudinal.

“No, it’s fine, she has a point.” He took a half step closer getting into her personal space, his eyes dropping to her full, luscious lips. The smell of her perfume engulfing him, the neck of her dress dipped lowly giving anyone a great view of her perfect full breast.  Suddenly Helena is out of steam as she shifted the her weight from one hip to the other, her gaze found interest in her diamond studded bracelet. Bruce notices how the skies cleared up, and the little bit of sun that was left came back out to shine on them. His gaze lingered on the view outside Wayne Manor for a moment longer, then he turned his attention back to her. He committed her face too memory, there’s no guarantee he’ll actually see her again after the party is over, if she works with PR, she’s no doubt a busy woman. 

“Forgive me for my absence?” Bruce offered, he spoke in a hushed voice, his tone sending shivers down Helena’s spine. She wanted to hate him, hate his perfectly handsome face, and the way his eyes watched her every move. She wanted to hate how good he smelled, and how perfect his stupid house was. But her hate held nothing, there wasn’t a real reason to be so upset. Though, something is nagging her, but it has nothing to do with Bruce Wayne. 

Instead of clamoring to find an even witter response, she finished off her drink, sat it on the bar top next to her, then took his glass from his hand, and finished off his before placing it back in his hand. She threw Cardíerre a small smile over her shoulder before walking off in the opposite direction. Bruce’s eyes remain focusing on her  as she watches her swaying hips; he admittedly had a hard time tearing his gaze away from her retreating form. 

“Mr. Wayne I’m—

“Cardíerre Lane, and Clark Kent from the Daily Planet, I must do a better job with security.” Bruce looked down at Clark’s extended hand, him refusing to meet him halfway only aided to the tension between the two men. Cardíerre who is standing in the middle of the two cursed to herself wishing she’d left with Helena, Clark, and Bruce’s glares evenly matched, she let out a huff of air no longer being able to take the ridiculousness of their unnecessary hate for one another. 

“We didn't mean to cause trouble Mr. Wayne, we were actually invited by Helena as her plus one.”  She spoke up, an apologetic smile on her lips, when she extended her hand, he held her gently, but did not look away from Clark. 

“No trouble at all, two inquisitive journalists is nothing I can't handle.” His face smoothly transitioned  into a warm, beguiling expression. Clark wanted to punch the smugness off the billionaire's face, but he composed himself, Cardíerre would be disappointed by his actions. That, and he’s not sure if he’s in the mood to hold his punches tonight. Cardíerre laughed off Bruce’s rude remark, people had said far worse things, she momentarily turned to Clark who appeared to be calming down. Bruce said his goodbyes to the couples, and walked off in the same direction Helena left. 

“What the hell was that Clark? We’re here as guests.” Cardíerre hissed through a smile, she tried not to make a scene in front of everyone. 

“I’m sorry.” As all Clark managed, he had a good reason for being so hostile, it’s just not a reason he can share with Cardíerre, not at this moment. He hated keeping secrets from her, but he didn’t want to bring her into more drama. Her knowing about Superman was bad enough.

“Helena invited us here to have fun, not to work, or cause fights.” She would have chewed him out more, but a sudden downpour of rain caught her attention. The water droplets smacked against the glass angrily. 

“What kind of fun can we have with people like this Cardi, I mean really?” Clark continued to rant quietly to her, but the way the lake started to unnaturally stir when it was just clear skies not too long ago made her feel uneasy.

“Cardíerre, are you listening to me?” Clark asked, she rolled her hazel eyes, and grabbed onto his arm. 

“No, but you sure are listening yourself aren't you.” She replied sarcastically. 

“What?” He looked at her confused. 

“Ugh, never mind, look at the lake.” 

“It looks nice, because of course Bruce Wayne would have a house right off the water…prick.” Clark grunted, before he had a chance to go off again, Cardíerre cut in. 

“Not that damn it, get your ego out of your ass, it was just normal skies out, and the wind it’s storming? You don't think that’s weird?” Cardíerre watched as the water continued to stir as if fighting for control. 

“Huh, guess you got a point, now that you mention it, it has been storming on and off since we got here. Maybe we should leave before things get ugly.” Clark is already pulling Cardíerre off in the direction of the makeshift coat room/guest room when she stops him. 

“Wait, what about Helena?” Cardíerre could assume she’d be fine, she usually always is, but her gut is telling her differently. He wants to argue, but the perturbation in her eyes softened him. 

“You find Lena, and I’ll find our stuff, sounds cool?” Clark offered, Cardíerre broke their huddle with a nod to the head, then split up and went their different ways. 

Helena sat in the living room of Bruce’s home, one leg crossed over the other, and her phone in hand as she scrolled through twitter. A painful pressure began to build behind her eyes, she tried to blink it away, the more she blinked, she began to feel compelled to continue. Soon the pressure moved to her head, suddenly a migraine pounded in her head, she groaned in pain. That would make the second one this month, she shifted her head to one side while keeping her eyelids shut, sometimes it helped. Her face scrunched up as the sound of whispering hissed in her ears, and slithered into her head. She couldn't make out anything of what they were saying, this is a new development for her, maybe she really is going crazy. The winds outside howled, and cried. The rain had turned into hail, the party guests scurried around trying to find their belongings in hopes to leave in enough time to beat the storm before it became worse. Bruce swiftly turned the corner into the foyer where he found Helena hunched over, pain stricken, and whispering things to herself. 

“Ms. Thálassa? Are you alright?” He carefully approached her, at first he thought all the strange weather had something to do with Arthur, but Aquaman has been AWOL for quite a while according to his file. The constant downpour only started a month after Helena came to Gotham, so what was she here for? 

“What’s wrong with her?” Cardeírre came rushing in, after she caught her breath she assessed the situation, naturally she went to comfort her friend, but Bruce stopped her. 

“That may not be a good idea.” He mumbled, he looked around for a weapon of any kind, he couldn't protect himself, and Cardíerre, not without revealing himself. 

“The hail, it stopped.” Cardíerre smiled thinking that things were going to turn out for the better, Bruce paused, the weather hadn't gotten any better, the sky was still dark, and gray with clouds. The water outside had begun to whirl, his eyes widened as the realization had hit him. 

“Go find Clark, tell him that a whole lot of people are going to need saving.” Bruce turned a confused Cardíerre in the direction from which she came, she began to fuss when Helena suddenly rose from her seat. 

“Goodness Lena, you were giving me a heart attack—” Cardíerre’s words caught in her throat, she was shocked by what she’s seeing, the woman she called a best friend appeared a bit unfamiliar. 

Helena turned to face them, her facial expression void, and her irises turned to a seaweed green hue. Bruce held Cardíerre with an iron grip, the house was eerily quiet, the sound of exploding water pipes made her jump out of her skin. It was too late when they noticed it, the oceanic tide had come rushing into Wayne Manor instantly flooding it. Cardíerre stood there, her full lips parted and her eyes glazed over with fear  as gallons of water burst through the walls. ‘CLA—‘ she managed to get out before she was knocked out of the way by the blast of water. Fortunately, Bruce’s suit shielded him in just enough time to save himself, but Cardíerre had gotten swept up in the tide. 

[blueaetherr]

tag by @muglermami 🤎

link here

i honestly have no knowledge when it comes to astrology and all dat, so if anyone knows about it then let me know ‘cause i’m curious

tagging: @theeblackmedusa @headcannonxgalore @sinflowersugar and anyone else who wants to do it

[miyuhpapayuh]

before work.

Bright rays of sunshine cast through their maroon drapes, causing her to squint her eyes and turn her body. However, her movement is halted by Michael bringing her body back into his.

He groans softly in his slumber, wrapping his arm around her bare waist. She sighs and looks over at the clock; it reads five minutes after eight.

She groans, shutting her eyes in frustration. She peers over her shoulder, watching him sleep like a baby. She rolls her eyes and pushes at his arm, trying to get up.

"Michael," she pushes at his arm again but, he doesn't budge, "Michael... I have to get up."

He shifts slightly before wrapping his arm tighter around her, "whyyy? Stay here with me."

"I can't. I've already been late once, this week." She chuckles, thinking back to a couple days ago. She practically raced to work and barely made it.

"Come on baby," he moves her wild hair away from her neck, "stay with Daddy." He places soft kisses on her skin.

"Baby.... hmm, I can't."  Instead of pushing him away, she reaches back to run her fingers through his thick hair. Her body is betraying her, big time.

"You don't seem like you wanna leave, mama." He chuckles and lifts her right leg up, rubbing her bud. She jerks, placing her hand on top of his.

"I do... I have to— ohh shit" she throws her head back, feeling his long fingers push into her wetness.

He removes his fingers and places them in his mouth. He dips his length into her, causing her back to arch.

"Michaeeel! I'm gonna be laaate!" He hooks her leg onto his waist and continues to slowly thrust into her.

"The more you fight it," he grunts and tightens his grip on her waist, "the longer you'll be here."

She grips his thigh, pulling him deeper into her. He smirks against her neck, continuing to pump into her.

Her shallow breathing turns into sporadic moaning. He quickens his pace, feeling her walls tighten around his swollen member.

"Fuck! Ohhhh fuck!" She digs her nails into his thigh, biting her lip harshly.

"What was you sayin'?" He growls in her ear.

She scratches at his arm, trying to push him away. He grunts and pulls her right leg over his shoulder, getting in between her legs.

"Answer me, baby." He hovers over her, gyrating his hips into hers. She places her hands on his chest, arching her back off the bed.

"Unh! I'm gon—ooh shit," he digs deeper into her, causing her to wrap her legs tightly around him. He buries his face into her neck.

"Stay with me, baby..." she grips his back and lets out a strangled grunt.

"I c-can't! I wish... I wish I could but, I can't!" He pulls off the bed and sits her in his lap, gently rocking back and forth into her.

"Come on, baby." She can feel herself caving. She's bound to explode at any moment.

"I'm gonna cum!" She squeals, gripping at his shoulders and throwing her head back.

He grips her waist firmly, thrusting upward into her. She loses her mind.

"Fuck, Michael!" Her back arches and her legs begin to shake. She places a hand on his knee to balance herself.

"Ah shit! Oh my—" her sentence gets cut off from the jaw dropping orgasm, washing over her.

"Fuck," he grunts lowly, filling her up. She groans and looks over at the clock.

It reads forty-five minutes past eight. She rolls her eyes and looks at Michael.

"You made me late, again." He chuckles, placing kisses all over her sweaty skin.

"I made you cum, though."

@soufcakmistress @504queen @ghostfacekill-monger @hearteyes-for-killmonger @uzumaki-rebellion @l-auteuse @blowmymbackout @supersizemeplz @chaneajoyyy @captainsaveasmut @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @daddy-killmonger @twistedcharismaaa @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @headcannonxgalore @quietstorm-thundathighs @sheabuttahwrites @thegifstories @michaelmajors @becauseimswagman1 @cecereads209 @nayaxwrites @xsweetdellzx @blackburnbook @darqchilddaydreamz @killmongerdispussy @brattyfics @sadthotsonlylove @emjayewrites

[slutouttanowhere]

All I can do at this fucked up time in the country is provide y’all with entertaining distractions. Feel free to skim through my masterlist that is pinned to my page and for non wrestling related fics, here’s my ao3 and main blog.

[cardierreh15]

Traffic Stop

Lovely @deandoesthingstome gave me the permission to bring her thoughts to life! Just a little bit of my dazzle dazzle

Warnings 18+: Cursing , Black Mailing , Abuse of Power , Flirting , Smut - Unprotected Car Sex (wrap it the fuck up) , Begging , Female!Dom , Male!Sub , Mommy Kink , Choking .

Pairings: AU!Henry Cavill x SGT Marissa Calloway(black!female)

Description: Mr. Cavill speeds through traffic, and SGT Calloway pulls him over to reprimand him.

Side note: Body Cams don’t exist rn 💀

Word Count: 3.0K

Tagging: @nofoolywang , @headcannonxgalore

One Shot

23:43

Just a few more minutes and her shift was over. It’s been a calm night. She hated those. Nothing to pass the time over with her doing all this paperwork. She sometimes questioned her career choice.

Even though she knew what she was getting herself into, she couldn’t help but to feel regret. Cops weren’t liked especially in this time of the century. She had to tiptoe over broken glass with bare feet with the life she lived. Even her being out of her uniform, choices have to be thought through and logical.

Marissa was sitting secluded from traffic with her lights off when her speedometer tracker went off. ‘83 mph in a 35 zone?! Pssssh, what a nut case.’ She closed her laptop, clicked in her seatbelt and turned on her siren and lights.

It took her a minute to catch up with him, she had the slightest reason that they were going to try to take off, but they pulled over to the side.

Stepping out of her vehicle, she used her hands to do a routine check over her body to make sure she had everything she needed. Her left hand rested on her holster as she touched his back tail light with her finger tips.

Once she made it to the driver’s window, she was met with a familiar face. But she didn’t fold, she still had a job to do.

‘License and Registration please?’ Her voice was baritone, firm and stern.

He looked up at her with a twinkle in his deep blue orbs. A smile cracked on his lips before his eyes dropped from her pretty face to her chest, and her waist. ‘Damn, I’m lucky. Got myself a lady cop. How ya’ doin’ miss?’

‘Fine,’ her country accent slightly settling in with the word, she repeated, ‘License and Registration please.’

‘Hmph, yes ma’am!’ He smirked as he reached over and pulled his registration out of the glove compartment and then pulled his license out of his wallet.

Once he handed the paperwork over, she took a second to look down at his license. Hmph, it was him. District attorney, Henry Cavill.

Marissa was always fond of him, she admired his work and now that she had him in her grasp, she was not gonna let him slip away. Not with just a ticket no.

‘Alright, Mr. Cavill, hold tight. I will be right back.’ She shot him a half wink.

His eyes dropped from her face to her breast where her badge rested. Engraved in the pretty silver star, was her badge Number and her name: M. Calloway. He’d be sure to remember that. ‘Yes ma’am.’ He nodded, sticking his head out of the window to catch her walking away.

She was silhouetted by her Charger’s bright LED lights, emphasizing her curves and her tools and trinkets. ‘Damn.’ He mumbled before he bit into his bottom lip. He really did feel lucky.

Marissa sat down in her squad car with a smirk curled on her lips. Boy, the way those fuckers at the station were going to be kissing her feet after this one. How does one catch the damn district attorney out right breaking the law like this? Should she call it luck?

She started inputting his information in his file and rang her partner.

‘Yooo. What’s goin’ on Calloway?’

‘Listen, you won’t believe this shit Luis.’ She tried to keep her excitement under control.

‘Whatcha got?’

‘I just pulled over Henry Cavill.’

There was a pause on the other side of the receiver before Luis spoke up, ‘What? Wait, what do you mean?!’

A chuckle finally left her lips, ‘I mean I just pulled over the fucking district attorney! Did you not hear me the first time?!’

‘Holy shit!’ Luis laughed in disbelief, ‘How in the hell did you pull that off?! What was he doin’?!’

‘He was going 48 miles over the speed limit. It appears this is his 2nd offense. He was let off with a warning the last time but, I think I may teach him a lesson.’

And she had the perfect punishment in mind.

‘Damn. Sucks to suck. You need me to roll on by? I could watch your back.’

‘My back don’t need watching. I’m cool.’ She chuckled, ‘I’ll give you a shout once this is over with.’

Once they hung up the phone, she thought for a minute as she finished the final touches to the report. She left his belongings on the keyboard and stepped out her vehicle once again.

She did her routine touch on the back of his tail light and walked up to his window. ‘Mr. Cavill, do you know why I pulled you over this evening?’

Henry looked up at her for a moment as if he were trying to register her question in his brain, ‘I have an idea… but could you tell me, in case I’m wrong?’

Marissa placed her hand on her hip as her other hand rested on her gun handle. It was a habit of hers. She wouldn’t dare pull a gun out on her future boo thing. ‘You were going almost 50 over the speed limit.’

He sighed softly, his head falling forward as he chuckled in disbelief, ‘Jeez. I’m so sorry. That’s— that’s not like me. I just had a long day at the office, I’m working on this huge case and—‘

Marissa stared at him with eyes as dead as autumn leaves. Though on the inside, she felt for him. She wanted to wrap him up in a hug and say sorry and let him go. But her plans were just too sinister for that.

‘I’m sorry… could you just…’ he looked to the side, ‘Not write me the ticket?’

Her eyebrows tugged into one, ‘Listen, Mr. Cavill. I don’t know what kind of cops you’re used to but I’m not letting you off that easy. You could’ve seriously hurt someone and yourself! Or worse!’

He snapped his head over at her, blinking hard; not believing what he was hearing, ‘What?! What if— if I can give you money? I can give you money!’

There he was again… trying to bribe a police officer. Another crime.

Marissa’s eyes grew in shock, ‘Are you bribing me, Mr. Cavill?!’

Once he’d realized what he done, his mouth fell slightly and for a moment his eyes glazed over with fear, ‘wh—no! No, no— you’ve got it wrong! I—‘

‘Step out of the vehicle please!’ She demanded

‘You’re serious?’ He asked in disappointment.

‘As a heart attack. Get out of the car please.’

Henry grumbled and rolled his eyes as he clicked his seatbelt off and pushed it to the side. He pulled the handle gently and stepped out of the Jeep Gladiator. 

He was much taller than she was, towering over her like a monument of muscle. He wore a cotton long sleeved shirt, dark denim jeans and black boots. Fuck. She couldn’t help but think to herself. He may be too much of a man for her to handle. But she wasn’t a quitter and her momma didn’t raise a bitch. 

‘Turn around. Hands against the vehicle please.’ 

‘Yes ma’am.’ Henry let out an annoyed sigh as he placed his large hands on the roof of the vehicle. ‘What are ya’ gonna do? Frisk me?’ he scoffed at his little remark. He was hoping she’d do that and more. 

Smirking at the joke, she placed her small hands around him and began to fill him out. Touching and squeezing on his soft pecks. ‘Don’t got anything that could stab or prick me, do ya?’ She asked as she continued to make her hands down his godly body.

‘No ma’am.’ his body tensed when she gave his thigh a firm squeeze, causing a tingling sensation in his groin to spark. 

She raised a brow before standing up straight once again, ‘Well this isn’t exactly “District Attorney Office” attire. Where were you coming from again?’

‘The office! I got changed there. You know how it is being coped up in suits all day. I changed out of my suit before I left! It’s in the back seat.’

‘Mmhmm.’ She sounded a little bit skeptical. Anything to make him bend, she wanted him to feel inferior. Weak. 

‘Alright, hands behind your back.’ 

‘What?! Are you arresting me?!’

Marissa let out a sigh as she rolled her eyes, ‘No, I’m not arresting you… yet. But you and I are going to have a little chat in my car. After this perhaps you could learn your lesson.’ She then clipped the metal handcuffs on his wrists and she grabbed his arm. The pair began on their short journey to the Charger. 

‘You don’t have to do this! I think I’ve learned my lesson.’ 

‘I don’t think you have.’ She pulled open the back door and jerked her head over, ‘In with ya.’ 

With another roll of his eyes, he ducked his head down and sat in the vehicle. 

‘Alright.’ she said as she began to undo her utility belt that held all of her weaponry and tools, ‘Let’s start our conversation.’ 

Henry glared up at her with confusion as she dropped her belongings on the front seat and turned off her radio. ‘What are you doing?’

A devious smirk curled on her lips as she began to undo her top, ‘You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do this Mr. Cavill.’

‘And what exactly are you doing?’ he swallowed his spit as he watched her now push her uniform top off of her shoulders and toss it next to him. She was now standing in a white wife beater and her bottoms. Her hardened nipples pierced through her sports bra and revealed themselves through her white shirt. 

‘That’s for me to know and you to find out.’ She said in a salacious tone. 

Henry swallowed a large gulp as she began to undo her bottoms and crawled on top of his lap. ‘I’m assuming this is the conversation you wanted to have with me?’ 

‘Shhh… listen, you’re going to pay for your crimes tonight. You can either take this slap on the wrist,’ she grinded her middle part against his growing erection, ‘Or you can just say goodbye to your career… this is after all your second offense… and you’ll just become a liability. Your call Mr. District Attorney.’ 

He bit into his bottom lip as he peered up into her brown eyes that just reflected in the most lascivious of things.  ‘Well if it means I get to feel you. Then count me in.’

A smirk curled on her lips, ‘Good boy. I will be referred to as ‘Mommy’ and right now mommy wants you to sit here and look pretty? Am I understood?’ Marissa crooned as she grabbed his chiseled jaw in her fingers and gave him a light squeeze. 

Now, Henry was so hard he thought he would split rocks at this point. He loved when a woman was in tune with her body, knew what she wanted and knew how to get it. And Marissa was his ideal woman. ‘Yes ma’am. Anything for you.’ 

‘Good.’ she grinned as she leaned down and pressed her full lips against his. His lips were so warm and welcoming. They embraced hers like arms to a hug when his tongue slipped between her teeth, she found herself reaching between the both of them to undo his pants. 

Once she broke the kiss, Henry looked up at her as she pulled her wife beater and then her sports bra over her head. Revealing her large perky sets of tits. ‘Mmm.’ he hummed as he grinded his hips upwards to ease that pain in his pants. He just wanted to wrap his lips around those sweet chocolate kisses for nipples. He was just dying to touch her. ‘Please! Officer–’

‘Mommy…’ she warned as she gently lifted her hips and pushed her pants off of her hips and then down to her ankles. 

‘Mommy, could you please take these cuffs off. I wanna feel you.’ He was practically whining but he was desperate! He needed to touch her.

Marissa finally pulled his veiny, massive member out of his pants, practically drooling when she saw the sight. She felt like she hit a goldmine. ‘No touchy… Bad boys don’t get to touch. Maybe next time.’ She laughed out sinisterly as she positioned her body over his uncut member. 

‘Aw man.’ he whined out. 

She then slowly descended her hips down on his member, feeling him stretch and push past her. ‘Aah.’ 

Henry looked down between the both of them as she engulfed him with her goodness. His thighs twitched at the familiar yet, foreign feeling of her. She was so tight. So wet for him. Made just for him. ‘Uhhhh yes.’ He groaned out.

‘Damn,’ she shuddered out, feeling a sweet warmth of numbness travel down her spine, ‘You are a big boy aren’t you.’

‘Ooh yes. Fuck, mommy you’re so tight.’ 

She settled at the hilt of him, giving her walls time to adjust to his enormous size. Then, she lifted her hips slowly and dropped them down again, earning a louder groan from Henry. Marissa did that a few more times before she began to pick up her pace and bounce her hips on him. 

Clap, clap, clap! Their bodies crashed into one another in a beautiful song. Henry’s eyebrows pulled into one as he watched her perfect breasts bounce with her movements. ‘Ooh shit. That’s it baby. More.’ He demanded. 

Marissa moaned out as she began to mix her bouncing with grinding, ‘Aah! Fuck! Is that what you want babe? You want mo–’ and before she could finish, Henry adjusted his hips and began to thrust upwards. It stunted her for a second, causing a moan to be hitched in her throat. ‘Ooh! Fuck, that’s good baby. Uh huh!’ She began to drop her hips down to meet his thrusts, creating a new form of friction she hadn’t known before. 

Her mouth hung open as she continued on with her rhythmic bounce. Henry’s hips had come to a stop and once again he was in a world full of ecstasy. ‘God-dammit, please don’t stop. Don’t fucking stop.’ he begged as a bright shade of pink rose from the base of his neck to his jaws, and the rest of his face. He felt his balls squeeze as he felt so close to an orgasm. ‘Aah.’

She could feel him throbbing inside of her. Her tight walls stretching with each throb, she knew he was close. ‘Aht’ she slammed her hips down upon his, ‘Don’t you fucking dare! This is a punishment for you!’ 

‘Ugh! Grr, fuck!’ He growled out, ‘Yes! Yes ma’am.’

‘You come when I tell you,’ She reached forward and wrapped her small hands around his neck, ‘Do you understand?’

‘Y-yes mommy.’ He croaked out. 

She began to lift her hips and dropped them in a slow, tantalizing rhythm. He lifted his hazy head once again to watch her engulf him over and over again. He was coated in a pretty white orgasm ring at the base of his dick. It pleased him to know that she could use him like this and make her feel good in the process.

 She kept her hold around his neck as she slowly began to pick up the pace when she felt a special spark within her core. ‘Ooh,’ her breathing hitched as her grip around his neck began to tighten, ‘Aah! Fuck, I’m about to cum. Fuck,’ her breathing became sharp and short as her body tried to brace her for the impact. And to her surprise, Henry began to thrust his hips upward again but this time much faster than before. ‘UGH! AAH!’ she exclaimed as her hips became locked in place allowing him to just take over just for a moment. 

‘Come! Please, please mommy. Come for me?’ He growled out, begging her for her release. 

Her body tensed up when his words met her ears. She was instantly met with a shockwave in her core, a beautiful erotic twist in her womb, ‘AAAAHHH! FUCK MEEE!’ she sobbed out but Henry just kept thrusting, fucking her right through her orgasm. Her eyes brimmed with tears as he had seem to fuck her into another orgasm that caused her to fold, ‘You can come baby! You can come baby!’ she whined out as he continued to thrust upward. 

Just the words he wanted to hear, he watched as she began to slowly grind her hips downward as he thrusted upward. ‘Ooh shit. I’m gonna… I'm gonna nut. Fuuuu-’ his cursing broke off when he was finally met with his own orgasm, spilling inside of her and filling her all the way up. His thick veins throbbed in his neck and forehead. Telltale signs that he emptied his tank and gave her all he could offer her. Letting out a shudder of disbelief and amazement, his head fell back against the seat once again as he tried to regain the air in his lungs. It was easier to breathe before. 

And he never came like that either. 

Letting out a sweet and satisfied sigh, she could down to him, ‘That’s momma’s good boy.’ Then, she carefully lifted her hips and began to get herself together. 

Once she was finished getting ready and she had helped piece him back together, she uncuffed him and looked up at him as he rubbed his wrists. Marissa smiled up at him and folded her arms across her chest, ‘So, what did we learn?’ 

Henry smirked and looked to the side, ‘Not to do 50 over the speed limit. Also, not to bribe a … fine ass cop.’ 

Marissa smirked and nodded, ‘Hmm, seems like you’ve learned your lesson… here,’ She reached inside of her vehicle and grabbed his license and registration papers off of the keyboard of the laptop. ‘I expect you to behave now. You aint hard to get to.’ She shot him a wink as he carefully took the documents from her. 

‘Yes ma’am…’ he looked down at her badge one more time, ‘Ms. Calloway.’ He'd be sure to find out more about this fascinating woman. He had to.

[wanderingpages]

‧͙⁺˚･༓☾Gentle Sins AU☽༓･˚⁺‧͙

“Are you going to help me take my clothes off too?” I meant it to sound teasing – I wanted to show him I could play his game too – but I was breathless, I was buzzing with anticipation.

“You know it wouldn’t end there, Jude,” he gave me a wry look. “It's a shame,” he rose and ruffled my hair, “It's a shame you’re my sister,” he murmured, needlessly reminding me. “Because that was some damn fine pussy, baby.”

TFOTA // All Human // AU : Jude and Cardan do things step-siblings shouldn't do.

Trigger Warnings: Crude language, Allusions to Drugs/Alcohol, Debauching Catholicism/Religious Metaphors, Taboo Sex.

Big up to @headcannonxgalore for keeping me sane for this one 🪦

Jude's POV

The rest of the ride home isn’t quiet, but it feels tense to me. It feels like that first ride we shared after the wedding, when Cardan told me he knew those were my flowers on the floor in front of the dressing room. When he tucked my hair back after clicking my seat belt in place, when it started as a tease, but he kept quiet after seeing the panic and distraught look on my face. Like I had wished back then, I wish now to open the car door and fling myself into oncoming traffic.

When he sees me press a hand to my heated cheek, he cracks the window for me, letting cool air settle my nerves. I clear my throat and instead of saying ‘thank you,’ I reach for the dials on the radio and disconnect it from his phone. Feeling like somehow Cardan’s personal playlist was catered to test me, I switch between stations, until I settle on something light and a little goofy. He taps his fingers along the steering wheel, quietly letting me do what I want in his car. I snoop through the console area, finding nothing of great importance, only packets of candy and gum, a couple of multicolored mini lighters, a pack of EZ Wider rolling paper and some ketchup packets from a fast-food chain. Underneath it all, I pick out a pair of mismatched gold earrings. One is shaped like a curved hardware nail, the other like a star with a pearl dangling from it. I twist them between my fingers, feeling a little nervous to be holding high-end tiny jewelry, lest the car swerves and they go flying out the window somehow.

“You like them?” He asks suddenly, pulling me from my gaze.

“Um, yeah,” when Cardan turns to me, he takes one hand off the steering wheel and plucks the Cartier one from my palm to hold it close to my earlobe.

“You should keep them,” a small smile tilts the side of his lips up and I look away, feeling a squeeze in my chest. Instead of saying no, like I should have, I take the earrings and tuck them into the pocket of my jacket, mumbling out a thanks to him. I turn away, taking in the scenery to distract myself. I’m not his girlfriend and I shouldn’t let him treat me like one either. At some point, I realize we’ve merged onto a more residential area, and the houses begin to look familiar. We were getting close to home now, on the wealthier side of town. Cardan’s hand reaches across, and he points to a three story house, equivalent to a mansion. “That’s me.”

I blink, looking at the house, bending my head to stare after it as we pass by, then I look at him with wide eyes. “You – you live there? You live in Insmire?” It may have put into perspective what it meant to have half a pair of high branded jewelry just lying in his car, but all I can piece together in my mind is just how close we’ve actually been living next to each other. I try to think back on all the times our paths could have crossed since the wedding and even prior; how much of our peers overlapped – could we have met at a party? Could we have met first, before our parents even knew each other’s names? Would it have made a difference? “Oh…” I whisper, the squeezing feeling in my chest dropping to the pit of my stomach. I rest my head back, tucking my hands into my pockets, fiddling with the earrings until night falls.

We make it home well after dinner, which is probably good in hindsight. I don’t think I’d be able to get through grace without shame. Even now, as Cardan opens the door for me and helps carry both of our overnight bags, even as Asha welcomes us warmly, greeting me with a hug, I can only think about Cardan, his fingers and the taste of cherries. When I shiver, Asha runs her hands frantically up and down my back as if to warm me.

“Oh, Jude,” she laughs, “I’ve missed you! I feel like an empty nester,” she pulls back, holding me at arm’s length. Dad reaches in for a half hug and kisses my forehead, then turns to his stepson and pats him on the shoulder. “Cardan,” Asha smiles lovingly at him, but stays close to my dad instead of also giving him a hug. It’s strange, watching her almost buzz with excitement but hold back as if Cardan were something so delicate, a touch would break him. I could almost laugh. Delicate. Cardan is anything but that. “Are you guys hungry? I can warm up some food – or at least have some dessert before bed… I know the drive must have been long.”

Cardan throws an arm around my shoulders, startling me as he kicks the door close behind him. “Fret not, Mother, we’ve had our fair share of dessert.” Without stuttering or picking at my skin, I managed to explain that we had stopped for lunch. I shrug him off, rolling my eyes when he shoulder-checks me. In the eyes of our parents, we’re getting along just as siblings should.

“I’ll show you to your room, then,” Dad says, leading Cardan up the steps. The room sharing a wall with mine has always been Cardan’s as far as I knew. When Asha moved in, she had spoken to us about it, wanting to do it up for him was he to ever stay over – and of course, Cardan is her son, so who was I to object if my dad had no qualms about it? Still, part of me knew Cardan would never be visiting his mother for the weekends – in fact, him saying yes for our winter break still has me miffed, especially now knowing where he lived.  And yet, Asha decorated his room to her heart’s desire, until slowly, it began to feel like a shrine of sorts. She visited it daily as if mourning a ghost, dusted down invisible dirt and hung photos and seasonal decorations that by no means fit the characteristics of what little I know about Cardan. If I think about it too much now, I’ll see the erratic behavior for what it is and maybe stuff Cardan has told me before, about how unfit his mother was, would start to make sense. But it was her way of coping, which is no worse than my scarred fingers or my willfully ignorant father.

I watch them walk up the stairs, only coming back to myself when Asha takes hold of my hands, inspecting the bandages over my knuckles. She squeezes them lightly and smiles at me, “There’s cookies in the kitchen – go get changed and I’ll make you a cup of tea.”

I shower quickly, avoidant of Cardan unpacking in his room. Unused to living with him, I hadn’t walked with my clothes in the bathroom, and when I realized this, I cracked the door open, barely missing him heading down the steps. The hot shower hardly settles my nerves and I stride straight to the window, opening it a crack, letting the air circulate the stuffy room. I turn and lean back against the sill, tightening my towel against me and taking in the rest of my bedroom, untouched since I left for the dorms. Even the air feels stale. I let out a huff, allowing my eyes to wander to the armchair where two stuffed animals – a black cat and a koala – squished together under the draping of a shirt I’d tossed when I couldn’t decide what to wear the morning I left.

My bag has been tossed on the bed, but that hardly disrupts the way I’d left it. There’s a corner of my bed where the covers are pulled slightly just as it had been when I’d grabbed my phone charger at the last minute. The pillow is skewed a bit, and my stuffed snake is laid adjacent. Even the pen on the vanity is left at the same angle; when I pick it up, there’s a thin layer of dust that’s noticeable. I wonder why my stepmother would diligently clean a vacant room religiously, while my room is just as I’d left it. Of course, I would never expect Asha to keep my room, but maybe I did feel a little resentment that Cardan’s room was tended to daily while mine was left to become a relic. I’m overreacting, mostly fueled by Cardan, I suppose, so I sigh and take the shirt from the chair and use it as a rag to wipe down the surface of my dresser, telling myself that she’s only giving me my privacy.

I drop the shirt in my laundry basket and straighten out the pile of books on the floor next to my bookshelf on my way towards my closet. I find some cotton pajamas and throw them on before finally sitting at the edge of the bed. I open the nightstand drawer, to swipe in the miscellaneous pens and hair ties left beside my lamp, only to let out a squeak at the new addition to the junk pile. She leaves all else still, but Asha still manages to place a bible in the bedside drawer like this is some kind of hotel. I pick it up and flip through the thin pages, letting the tiny black letters blur. I pretend it’s a flipbook and the words are creating some type of eight-bit fire. I once again try to think back on when this all started – had it been after the wedding or were there hints before? I snort and shove the book towards the back of the drawer, wondering how far she will take this before I finally snap.

I hear the bathroom door shut right when I walk out, guessing I’ve missed Cardan again. When I make it to the kitchen, I’m surprised Asha isn’t there for me to ask about the present she left in my room. There are two cups of tea on the counter beside a plate of cookies – for her son and I, I guess. Asha can’t bake for shit, so I know the chocolate chips are from the bakery near the supermarket, only gooey because she’s warmed them up in the microwave. I debate on waiting for Cardan, taking in the added décor to our kitchen walls – some prayer on a plaque and a wooden cross right under the clock. After a moment, I grab a cookie and I shiver, wondering if she had stolen the cross from the church, as it was incredibly similar to the one in the dressing room – the one absolutely embedded into my brain.

“Creepy.” Cardan says, causing me to bite my tongue. I yelp, turning to him, hand covering my mouth, unable to take the mix of blood and chocolate. He looks surprised at my reaction too, leading me to the trash can so I can spit it out. “Shit, sorry.” He rubs my back and I wave his hand away, heading to the sink for some cold water.

“What the hell?” I mutter, wiping my mouth. I hadn’t even heard him come down.

He looks bashful, for once. “It looks like an omen,” he nods his chin to the cross and I eye him warily, still tasting copper in my mouth. His thumb reaches towards me, and he swipes down the corner of my lips, rubbing away the smear of red and brown, making my knees feel weak because suddenly, I'm in that booth at the diner again and I want him to paint me as red as those cherries. He parts his lips, looking as if he wants to say more, but all he does is grab my half-eaten cookie and give me a parting pat on the head, ruffling my hair slightly. “Anyways, sleep tight, little sister.” He’s up the steps and I feel a little aghast that he’d come down, inflict pain, remind me that we’re siblings then walk up the stairs like the past week – let alone that night at the reception – hadn’t happened. I stick my middle finger up at his back, annoyed that he can switch his emotions around so easily, annoyed that he plays this game better than I do, annoyed that I had even given him the green light so many months ago, thinking I could best him somehow.

I stay a while longer, struggling to make myself move, but soon the hurt ebbs away enough for me to snag another cookie or two or three, snacking on them almost angrily. As I finally make my way to my room, I check the time on my phone and it lets me know it's ungodly to be up so late. While I do feel incredibly tired, I just can’t find it in myself to sleep; I feel strung up and it may have little to do with Cardan Greenbriar sleeping just a few feet away from me. I decide on straightening out the rest of my room, dust off shelves and fix anything I’d left awry, but only less than an hour passes. I run through my phone contacts, wondering who might be up and on a whim, I send a message to my roommate, asking how she’s doing. To my surprise, Vivienne responds within seconds. The three dots dance at the bottom of the screen for a moment until it stops completely, and I get a phone call from her instead.

“Why are you still up?” She asks instead of an actual greeting. I roll my eyes; I could ask her the same thing. I walk to my laundry basket when I suddenly remember the earrings I’d left in my pocket. I take them out and before placing them on the dresser, I glance at myself in the mirror, holding the Cartier one to my earlobe, trying to see what Cardan had seen earlier.

“Jet lag,” I quip at Vivienne, switching to the Dior pearl, twisting my head this way and that. I place them on a small jewelry tray and head to my bed. I sit on the edge and fall back to stare at the ceiling. There’s even a cobweb at the far corner. I roll my eyes at how bratty and entitled I’m feeling over dust in my room. At the end of the day, Asha isn’t my mom, but she’s done more for me in three years than my real mom has done in five.

I can hear Vivienne’s scoff, “That’s not at all how that works – you’re in the same time zone.” I hear shuffling on her end, and she says a quick apology before I assume she’s settled. “Okay,” she clears her throat, “how was it?”

“How was what?” I play dumb, grabbing the stuffed snake and holding it to my chest. I stroke the fuzzy skin, distractedly. It’s black with thin, iridescent scales threaded through, seemingly accurate to the size of a fully grown pet snake. The black beady eyes stare back at me cutely.

“Don’t ‘what’ me – the car ride, you dick,” Vivienne huffs and it’s funny, so I can’t help but giggle. “With Mr. Oh-no-step-bro-I’m-stuck-under-a-table,” She elaborates. “Dude… I can’t help but live vicariously through you right now – like are you guys fucking? In the same house your parents are fucking? That’s so gross,” She snorts, and I make a face.

“Ew Viv, no! No one is fucking anyone.”

“Oh my god,” She clocks me in a matter of seconds. “You guys absolutely got freaky on the road, didn’t you?” I don’t need to have her in front of me to know her thin, blonde brows are wiggling comically.

I press my hands to my cheeks and groan. “No,” I tell her, which technically is not a lie because nothing happened on the road. In fact, being on the road was probably the most normal thing to happen between us – between actual siblings. It’s when he held my hand and took me to the diner that he seemed to press play on our perverted little game.

“Liar, liar” she sings. “Just be safe, ‘cus it’s going to be super weird when Jude Jr. pops out and you have to explain that her daddy is also her uncle.”

I nearly gag at the thought. “God, no, stop it!” I push the snake aside and turn to my stomach. “No one is having kids, okay?” I shiver, “That’s disgusting.”

“You’re right, we’re in Maine, not Alabama.” She thinks she’s so funny, she’s laughing at herself and I threaten to hang up. When she calms down, I finally change topics and ask about Heather and Liliver. We chat until she starts to yawn and I let her get some rest.

I still feel so edgy, though my eyes start to tire. I find my Kindle app and, on a whim, I ignore all the unread books in my library and download a Camus book. It’s not the one from Cardan’s car but it's a translated English version of one that does not aid in my sleep at all. I read until it’s about 5 in the morning, more engrossed in it than I was when it was an assigned reading in high school. I glance out the still dark window and think about track for a moment. I used to leave the dorms so early to make it for morning runs. I got so good at using it as an escape, I was suggested to try out for the track team next semester. Sunrise is in a couple hours, and there’s a trail leading down the creek just behind the house. It’s a bike trail, mostly, but I can run beside it until the sun comes up, just to keep myself occupied for a while.

The next few days involve me slowly cleaning my room, inch by inch, even going down to my small jewelry collection, and scrubbing them clean. I’ll admit, next to Cardan’s expensive jewelry, mine looked very shabby in comparison. I avoid Cardan and maybe Asha in the process, by staying out of the house as much as possible, running in the mornings until my legs give out, catching up with old friends – like Fand and her boyfriend – maneuvering around the city like a tourist, going to small museums and bookstores –  places I would never even think of going on any regular day. Of course, I’m home before 9 every night, and in my room until I force myself to get through a few hours of shut eye just to run again in the morning and start it all over. It’s beginning to get harder, trying to ignore my problems, tedious even.

I'm rubbing lotion on the scabbed over bits on my fingers, annoyed and embarrassed by how horrifying they look, starting to yellow in color and peel at the edges. They itch in their healing process, making it hard for me not to pick at them again. My fingers look mismatched, and I know scar cream can only fix so much. I could cry at how horrible it makes me feel to not even be aware that I’m doing it, that I’m hurting myself until I start to bleed. Therapy might help, but Dad is against it. I guess he doesn’t want to know what the root cause of it is – doesn’t want it said out loud, at least.

I push my window all the way up tonight, sticking my head out to stare at the stars. There’s a big ledge that should technically be the roof of the garage, but I’ve often brought blankets out to sit comfortably and read when it was nice out. I twist my fingers, trying not to focus too much on the compulsive need I feel to itch at my skin, instead lamenting about last summer, and definitely not at all about anything related to my stepbrother. I’m so in my own head that I almost miss when Cardan sticks his head out his own window.

My brows are raised as I watch him climb over the sill and walk on the eaves to sit on the slope right beside me, the scent of burning earth creeps into my nostrils “Jude,” he murmurs in greeting and my name had always sounded so pretty from his lips, but something about tonight makes my chest squeeze tighter than usual. The near week I spent without him felt almost intolerable in perspective with him sitting beside me right now. Why had I put myself through torture to steer clear of him when I feel so at peace now next to him?

“It’s cold,” I point out, glancing at his attire of a short sleeve white shirt and thin looking gray joggers. He doesn’t even have socks on. I may have on shorts and a T-shirt, but I'm not outside in the cold, in fact my room has become so unbearably warm these days I have to constantly leave my window open.

He ignores me, taking a short drag of whatever he’s rolled. When the scent hits me again, it tickles my nose a little and I try not to sneeze. “Why is it that we live together now, and I see less of you? Are you avoiding me?”

“I could say the same about you,” I point out, resting my elbow on the ledge, bracing the side of my face to my palm. The few times I’ve been home before dinner, Cardan has been noticeably absent.  He smiles but it looks grim. He leans back, resting his head on the gable. The air is unusually still tonight, so the smoke surrounds him for a long while; I watch the wisps disappear between us. The fume begins to sting my eyes, but I don’t want to look away. I admit, “I can’t sleep.” My sleep schedule has been fucked for days, no matter how often I’ve managed to tire myself out.

He holds out the joint to me and I take it mostly out of confusion. “Your lights are on all night long then you disappear at five in the morning.”

“Have you been keeping tabs?” I roll the joint between my fingers, then make a decision and take a hit. My lips touch where his lips had and though we’ve done a lot more than share spit before, this feels far more intimate in the quiet night. It burns a little, like I know it would, and it itches my throat when I exhale slowly through my nose. I look down at the thin stick, brows furrowing at the rolling paper. I’ve never seen any with words on it. “I am. Avoiding you. My heart beats faster around you. My palms get clammy and my heart sinks to the pit of my stomach. It hurts to breathe sometimes,” I explain my anxiety, twisting the joint to read the words, wondering if it says something profound. “Can’t mean anything good,” I mumble. “It’s like walking across a narrow bridge with nothing beneath to catch my fall.”

After a beat, he asks, almost too quietly, “Are you scared of me, dear sister?” I don’t answer, then he shrugs, eyes gazing over what he can see of me, “I think you’re prettiest when you're honest.” Cardan reaches his hand to ruffle my hair. I try to bat it away, but his fingers dig in a little tighter, weaving through and under the bun I’ve haphazardly attempted earlier. He doesn’t really need to tilt my head to face him, I do it for him. If the stars are bright tonight, his eyes are even brighter. “I’m not avoiding you,” he tells me after a long while. “And you’re not, by the way,” he is so close to me now, that our breaths mingle and turn to fog between us, “Out of my system, I mean.” My eyes widened at the answer to my question that seemed like eons ago. He releases my hair and tweaks my nose almost affectionately. He takes the roll from my fingers, but I catch a few words where our fingers touch, morbidly reminding me of Michelangelo’s The Creation of Adam.

“Holy shit,” I whisper suddenly, looking at him horrified as he smokes it. “That’s the – you… The paper!” he raises a brow and looks at the roll like he’s only now noticing what I had. “Oh my God,” I say.

His languid grin is so wicked, I could almost say he’s the devil himself. “Yeah,” he drawls, “I guess so.”

“Cardan!” I whisper harshly, “You can’t smoke bible pages!”

He shrugs, “Was out of rolling paper.” He rolls his eyes, “It’s not like Big G wrote it himself anyways.”

My mouth parts in disbelief. “Big G?” I struggle to say. He bends down and kisses my nose. “You’re kind of cute, Jude.” I blink up at him and he pecks my lips this time. I pull back and touch my lips tentatively, aware that I too, have smoked the same bible joint. My mouth parts and he slips said joint between my lips as they close. I inhale sharply, eyes on him. When he pulls it away, I start to cough. His warm hand smooths over my cheek as if trying to calm me. He takes another drag, almost absently, eyes starting to strain red as he watches me settle. His thumb plays with the freckle under my eye, swiping over it as if to see if it’ll disappear.

“Wh- What,” I cough again and try to clear my throat, eyes watering while he catches the stray droplets. “What page was it?”

His smirk comes by sluggishly. His words are as hazy as I feel, trailing off by the end, “Something in Proverbs. Keep your mouth free of perversity; keep corrupt talk… far… from your… lips.”

“God, you’re sick,” I tell him. “Jesus, Cardan,” I manage; I feel unnerved and his lack of reaction makes me feel like I’m going crazy.

“Invite me in,” he says quietly, like he’s a fucking vampire or faerie; changing the subject I’m still reeling over. “We can watch a scary movie. I’d love to hear you scream.” He pinches my cheek. “I’ve missed you, Jude.”

I don’t know what convinces me to do it – him, his confession or my mild inebriation – but, I take hold of his wrist, stopping him from pulling away from me. “You’re a fucking menace,” I mutter. I take a step back and tug him, “and I don’t scream,” I let him know, holding his hand as he slips in through my window.

Cardan smiles, pinching the joint out and placing it on my desk. He looks around my room, and I awkwardly shuffle around my desk for my laptop. I sit on my bed, watching him warily, with my heart beating against my eardrums over him touching all my things. This is different from how it was in my dorms. I’m less comfortable and acutely aware of our parents and all the reasons I tried to avoid him this week.

He shuffles around as nosy as I had been in his car. He picks up a bottle of perfume and sniffs the nozzle, then spritzes some onto himself, probably to mask the weed scent he’d acquired. He plays with makeup I’ve left out on the vanity, opening a palette and rubbing a finger over a gold pigment he then rubs off against his shirt. I wince while I’m trying to remember my password to the streaming sites I’m sharing with three other friends. I hear him opening drawers and I glance to see him pick at my undergarments. He finally opens the bottom drawer and pulls out a pair of thick socks he manages to stretch over his feet. I hold in a laugh and scoot down on my bed while he hits the light.

He picks up the stuffed snake, tosses it on the armchair with the other two stuffed animals, and climbs on to the bed. He smells like me, atop that earthy aroma. I shuffle in closer, and he wraps his arm around me like it was just natural for him to do. It feels like a date, so I tell myself it’s the weed and sacrilege that makes me give in - we can't get any worse than smoking Proverbs – so I allow myself to rest my head on his shoulder. I become aware that there’s something else beneath those two mingled scents on him; that amber musk I always smell when he’s near. Without knowing when, I’ve missed smelling it, so I twist my head, trying to get more of it. 

Cardan chooses one of The Exorcist movies and my eyes blur later when I try to see beyond the dark frames of blue-toned lighting. I don’t scream but my face is pressed into his chest, eyes screwed shut and my legs wrapped around him so tight my bones ache. My heart is racing something different than what I'm used to around him, my chest is tight, but it feels like the bad sort of wrong. I’d never seen any of the movies, but I hadn’t expected to feel petrified enough to wrap myself around him.

I feel the vibration of his chuckle and when he strokes my hair back, I look up to him. The bluish tint from the screen casts something ethereal across his skin. He feels so warm and cozy and I think for once, I wouldn’t mind if sleep could evade me, if it meant resting in his arms. How had I spent a whole week avoiding him when I could have been doing this instead?  “Okay?” he asks. His eyes are droopy; red and lethargic. I nod imperceptibly, and he tugs at a lock of hair unkempt from the band, trailing it over my face and letting it spring back to its mess. His finger dances across my nose to the freckle under my eye, then slowly down my jaw and across my lips. “Should we turn it off? I can have you screaming in other ways.” His finger’s skim over my lips and I want to do the same to him, unexpectedly so aware of them and the way they move. I get his oral fixation with me. 

I touch his bottom lip with the tip of my fingers, “Fuck off,” I mumble beneath my breath. I slip my finger between his teeth and his tongue slowly wraps around, beckoning it further in. I feel it in the tightening of my breasts and the warmth pooling in my core when he sucks on my finger. 

I lift up a bit and he chuckles, helping me find balance as I rest my weight on my elbow. I pull my finger out, trailing wet lines over his chin, and down to his neck. I trace the tendons there, entranced by the way his muscles flex at my touch. When the movie is forgotten, he reaches for the laptop and twists to set it on the bedside table, letting the movie play out beside us while my hand trails down his chest, slowly to the hem of his shirt tentatively playing with the cotton. I gnaw at my bottom lip, hesitating for a moment. “What if…” There’s blood and gore and screams and a haunting soundtrack, but it's Cardan who has my heart stuttering and my breath coming in quick, shallow bursts now. His hand rests on the small of my back, the other skims to my neck, resting where my pulse vibrates. His eyes flutter, struggling to stay open and on me when my fingers slip under the waistband of his sweats. When I touch the skin of his pelvis, feel the trim of hair there, I realize that it’s the first time I’m touching him there at all.

“Jude,” he murmurs, subdued now.

“What if,” I continue, softly, “I want to make you scream?” his eyes glimmer and his bottom lip is pulled between his teeth when I take hold of him blindly. His stomach twitches and I’m torn between wanting to watch his reaction and wanting to look at what my hand is doing. My grip tightens and he sucks in a breath.

“Jesus, Jude…I…” he struggles to breathe and it does something to twist at the heat in my belly, “I don’t scream either, Jude,” he finally whispers, pressing on my back until I fall forward. He kisses me deeply, slowly, further muddling my brain. His hand slips under my shirt, warm on my spine. He grabs hold of my hand and pulls it from his pants. I pull away from him startled, and a little embarrassed until he licks the palm of my hand and guides it back to his dick. “But I’m not above begging,” he tells me in a breath. “So don’t stop, Jude…” I clamber on top of him, finding his free hand and using it as leverage to hover over him. He lets me bring it above his head, lets me rest my forehead on top of his, eyes gazing at each other until I look down between us, holding his shaft tighter, pulling him from his sweats.  “Fuck,” he breathes.

I thumb at the head, sticky precum coats my finger and when I squeeze the swollen tip, he lets out a soft moan. I’m a bit out of my element but I hope I hide it well. I want him to feel just an ounce of the way he makes me feel. I kiss his cheek, trail my lips to his ear and stroke his member. “Look at you,” I say in a hushed tone as our fingers interlace. His free hand slides over my ass and down to my thigh, squeezing my skin like it’s a tether. He bites his lip, a grunt escaping. The movie plays on, music growing louder, fueling the atmosphere. “Look at my big brother,” I bite down on his earlobe, tugging the metal loop he’d left in tonight. “So needy…and …all… for… me.”

Cardan lets out something between a laugh and a groan, hips bucking against my hand just the slightest. “Fuck me…” he groans. “You’re a bit of a brat, you kn- ahh!” I stroke faster, a little harder. There’s silence from the laptop. “You… you missed me too,” he mumbles, eyes shutting, sweat sheening his forehead, “didn’t you,” he slurs. I nod, taking my lips down his neck and kissing him under his jaw. He calls my name when I pull skin between my teeth. “Fuck!” He lets out the moment the screaming on screen starts up. His dick twitches but before I can do more, his hand on my thigh begs me closer to him, “Please, Jude… please… let me feel how hot and wet your pussy is right now,” he begs almost drunkenly. He tugs at my shorts and pulls them along with my panties to the side, then helps me settle on his straining cock, hissing when our skins touch. I pull in my bottom lip, grabbing his hand and pressing it above his head with the other.

I feel my cunt spasm before I even start to move. “Fuck…” he whispers again, eyes in a daze when my hips begin to grind.

“Is this…” I trail off, not wanting to sound unsure of myself. “Do you like that, Cardan?”

“Y…yes…” His grip tightens around my fingers, and his hips begin to rut against me. He’s slick with my wetness in the matter of seconds, sliding between my slit, rubbing against my clit hard. “Don’t stop, baby,” he slurs, “keep… riding me,” he pleads, “you feel… so fucking good,” he tells me so quiet, I almost don’t hear it beyond the noise of the movie I wish would just end already. I watch his face twist, and his eyes struggle to stay open and on me. His lips are parted and forming quiet obscenities between muffled grunts, “So wet for me…” I feel lightheaded and warm all over, my knees start to shake and try to keep up with his thrusts. I move faster, whimpering and moaning, enthralled by how he looks - like he's the one who's being corrupted by me.

I don’t have time to comprehend when he easily overpowers me and flips us. He takes hold of my two hands in one of his, the other hand reaches for my shirt and pulls it all the way up, holding the scrunched fabric to my neck. He moves sloppily against me, rough and hard. My breath catches when his head falls to my chest, taking a hardened nipple into his mouth. I pull in my lip hard between my teeth, scared of the noise that’d escape. His tongue flicks tenderly in comparison to the abrasion between our legs. It confuses and overwhelms me and when he bites down and pulls hard, my eyes cross and my vision doubles, “Car-ah!” my nails dig into his flesh, and my body starts to twitch uncontrollably. 

It’s like my climax had been what he was waiting for because he pulls away from me and takes hold of his cock, stroking it over my stomach fast and almost animalistically. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he pants, “Jude… fuck…” until his come shoots hot and white over my skin, between my breasts and down my navel.

He breathes rough and shaky, burying his face into the crook of my neck. My hands tremble as they wrap around his head, running over his hair more to calm myself than his. His heart beats against my chest almost alarmingly, and when the air seems to finally clear, the credits roll on the screen and Cardan falls to his side. I almost laugh at his near immediate lull to sleep.

My hands still shake as I detach from him, closing the laptop and sneaking off to the bathroom for a wet rag. I wipe down myself before I work on the mess against his skin. He’s still asleep when I wake up in the morning, but when I’m back from my run, he’s not even home.

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Gentle Sins Masterlist

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Get to know me!♥️🌈

Thank you so much for the tag @martha-oi and @viking-raider

Nickname: Technically my nickname is Elle lol

Sign: Leo gang ♌️

Height: 64 in/162.56cm

The last thing I googled: my height coversion lol

Amount of sleep: 6 hours maybe

Dream job: Professional Writer

Favorite song: Purple Rain - Prince

Movie/Book that summarizes me: How To Be (2008), it stars Robert Pattinson and this movie means a lot to me. Because I am so fucking awkward sometimes and just...I'm in love with this move.

Favorite instrument: Acoustic guitar, I started taking lessons and I ended up fucking my instructor so we kinda stopped lessons. But we are still really good friends.

Aesthetic: I'm like pastel goth/dark academia/favorite hoodie vibes

Favorite authors: Brené Brown, Andrzej Sapkowski

Random fun fact: I'm obsessed with Lloyd Hansen. I have a lot of headcanons about him(ask me about it if ya want). And thank Goddess that he is not a real person, cuz I would be somewhere strung up and cut up and all types of shit lol

no pressure tags: @peyton-warren @cardierreh15 @fineanddandy @tas-renee @headcannonxgalore @titty-teetee @ronearoundblindly @sarahdonald87

[megamindsecretlair]

Be My Little Darling - Chapter 6

Chapter 5 Chapter 7

Pairing: Loki x Black!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. You are in charge of your own reading experience. Angst/Smut. Unresolved sexual tension. Fingering (fem receiving), spanking (fem receiving) Dom Loki. Mentions of survivor's guilt.

Summary: Loki is the exclusive owner of the hottest club in New Asgard. Dubbed the Nine Realms, each of the nine rooms represent a different realm. You are his second in command, working the floors and ensuring everyone is having fun. When a shipment goes missing, you have a tiny breakdown.

Word Count: 4,206k

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A/N: Excuse me while I go cry my eyes out. This was too fun to write! I love, love writing Loki's dialogue. I'm deadass breaking my own heart while I write this! LOL. Likes are always awesome. Please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers!

Taglist: @cantstayawaycani @braverthanthenewworld @monaeesstuff @headcannonxgalore @chaos-4baby @dayjlovesromance @theeblackmedusa @soft-persephone

You sat in your office with the door closed for once. Though, office was the nicest way of putting it. It was a glorified broom closet. With the size of the club, you ought to have an office like Loki’s. But the office suited you. It was yours. No one else’s. 

The silence of the room should have been annoying, but it was the only bit of peace you got. The guided meditation on your Earth phone told you to breathe. You were already breathing. Your sister had recommended that you use it since you’ve been so “testy” lately. 

It wasn’t your fault that she snuck up on you while you were chopping up spinach. She definitely shouldn’t have gotten that close. You didn’t mean to read her the riot act. She was out of her room for once and you yelled until she went right back in. 

You scowled at the little device and the soft ocean sounds it played in the background. So far, this thing was only making you more restless and irritated. Something had to give. It was impossible to do anything. 

The damn thing told you to pay attention to where you felt your breath. Whatever the hell that meant. You turned it off and rubbed your neck. Tension weaved a knot in your shoulder and you rolled it around trying to get some relief. 

Speaking of relief…you felt like you had ants in your veins. On more than one occasion, you had half a mind to march into Loki’s office and demand that he fuck you right then and there. Pride be damned. It had been a few short weeks of torture. Cruel and unusual punishment. 

Surely, the god had to have some kind of mercy right? You scoffed. He wouldn’t know mercy if it slapped him in his gorgeous face. Sure, he let you come but you needed more. You needed him inside of you. And that was the scariest thought of all. You didn’t need anyone. 

Least of all him. Pride was a poor substitute for warming your bed, but it was easier than relying on someone else to always be there. It was convenient to say that you weren’t like this when you were on Asgard. But you’d always been stubborn and did things in your own time. And nothing short of a miracle would move you.

Once you decided to plant your feet, it would take an act of the All Father to get you to move an inch. And even then…

It was too quiet. You were in your office, alone just like you wanted, and yet all you wanted to do was be surrounded by people. Okay, fine, you wanted to be around him. He made you so angry sometimes but there were rare moments when he made you smile or laugh. 

You rubbed your face. You didn’t know what you were going to do about Loki. You didn’t know what you were going to do about your wayward brother. He was disappearing more often and earlier than usual, not returning home until late at night. The last time you had told him about his behavior, he yelled that you weren’t his mom. It took every ounce of willpower not to smack him.

You did everything for that little weasel. You found them a place, you got a job, you put them through school. A little fucking gratitude would be nice. 

You blew out a breath and turned the meditation thing back on. Once more, from the top.

A loud knocking on your door caused you to jump. “Go away!” You had a sign up for lunch. For thirty minutes, you didn’t exist. There was no club, no employees, and no responsibilities. 

The knocking persisted until you stood up with a growl. You opened the door. “This better be fuckin’--”

“I can’t find the ale for tonight!” Justin, one of the kitchen staff, stood outside your door. He was short, about 5’6, with soft copper skin and dark, curly hair. He wore the white uniform of the kitchen staff, but he had his hat in his hands and wrung it out so badly, it had wrinkles. 

“What do you mean you can’t find it?” You asked. You went to your desk and flipped through your calendar. In it, the shipment was scheduled to arrive at 12pm. It gave the crew enough time to stock up before the doors opened. You went to your file cabinet and flipped through the receipts. “I signed for it,” you said.

“I know. I turned for just a second! It’s gone,” Justin said. His voice got smaller the more he talked. Palpable fear sloughed off of him in waves. You were about to ask him what his problem was. But there was only one thing that inspired that much fear. 

You walked to the door and pulled him in. You made him sit in the only other chair in the place. Would it have killed Loki to find a better space for you? 

“Calm down. Tell me what happened,” you said.

Justin shook as he ran through what happened. He told you how after you left for lunch, he went to the stockroom to check on how much space he had to store the ale. He checked on the bar to check inventory. When he got back, the entire shipment was gone from the back and no one had seen a thing. 

You nodded and listened. The ale was not easy to move. You half wondered if it was those guys again. They were big enough to move the ale. But that required a truck and someone seeing them. Justin had only been gone for roughly fifteen minutes. No one could move a shipment like that in fifteen minutes. 

“Okay. Okay, we’ll figure this out. I’ll check the security cameras. You check with anyone who was scheduled back there today. Someone saw something, right?” You asked.

Justin looked at you as if you were a frost giant that grew three more heads. His lack of confidence stung a bit, but whatever. You were used to being underestimated. You sent Justin on his way and you went to the security room. 

The tips of your ears burned as you thought about the last time you were here, but there was no time for that. With Loki’s extra scrutiny, you were no longer able to move around like a phantom. Sometimes, it seemed like he was there in whatever room you were but you couldn’t see him. He could be in disguise, but you hadn’t been able to see through his illusions. He could be standing right next to you and you’d never know it. Somehow, you were sure he had better things to do than watch you all day.

The guard opened the door after you knocked. You smiled sweetly at him and told him that you needed his help. Ten minutes later, the security footage showed absolutely nothing useful. The shipment was there one minute, gone the next.

You stared at the footage and panic clawed up your throat. No, no, you won’t panic. Clearly, your saboteur was at it again. Stealing a shipment was a little mundane. Especially after the mind control trick. But it was still gone and it was supposed to get you through the week. No ale meant angry customers. Angry customers meant word of mouth would spread. Bad press meant people would stop coming. And if people stopped coming, the club would be deserted. And if the club were deserted, there would be no reason to keep your job. 

You took one deep breath in, allowed the panic its moment, and then breathed it all out. There’s a reason for this. The saboteur was fucking with you all, but so far it had been harmless. Okay, Angel going through the floor wasn’t harmless and if those meatheads had been successful, they’d have taken your head off. But you were able to handle it all. You were fine. Absolutely fine. 

The guard cast furtive glances your way. You probably looked silly standing there, staring at the paused video. You thanked him and headed out. So far, you haven't run into Loki. But he was out visiting his brother. If you could just solve this quickly, there would be no reason to worry him. 

Okay, honesty time. You wanted to be competent. You wanted to be indispensable to him. You wanted him to know that he could leave for the day and he could trust you to run the club. You didn’t know why his approval meant so much to you. And you didn’t want to analyze it. 

You searched. You searched everywhere you could think of that a psychopath would hide ale. You searched top to bottom, front to back, but it was gone. Poof. Justin had recruited the other kitchen staff to search around discreetly. The last thing you needed was Honey or Sweetie coming by. They were your biggest gossip. You didn’t need this news reaching Loki. Oh hell, these people had you fearing Loki’s wrath as well. 

You went out the back of the club for the hundredth time. Your eyes burned as you adjusted to the brightness of the outside. In a few hours, people would start arriving. Some of them would order ale and what were you going to tell them? Sorry, none tonight. Try back tomorrow! 

You rubbed your neck as you stared at the loading bay. The cameras covered everything. Every angle. And the footage showed that the shipment was there one minute, gone the next. You didn’t know what you would find. You had already searched this area. 

Tears pricked your eyes. This was so pathetic. How hard was it to find one shipment? You massaged your forehead, willing the tears to go away. Before they had a chance to drop, you swiped them away. You will not break down in front of these people. 

The bay was empty. Sunlight beamed down, warming your dark skin. Birds flew overhead and in the distance, there was the cityscape. On the other side of the club, there was the ocean. A faint salty sea breeze blew by every now and then. You were alone. And it was okay to cry.

You faced away from any cameras and allowed a few drops of tears to stream down your face. You didn’t cry often. Certainly not in public. Your mom always told you to never let people see you break down. In the house, you could slump over, fall out, or pass out all you wanted to. But outside, you were to square your shoulders and never give anyone a reason to look at you sideways.

Your heart cracked in two. You missed that stubborn old lady so much, sometimes you couldn’t breathe. She was always snapping at you about something. But you knew it was out of love. And you knew that your dad would come right behind her, kiss her, and tell her to loosen up. You missed your grandparents. Your family was always close. 

You missed your cousins. You missed shopping with them or traveling from tavern to tavern drinking more than everyone. You missed being free. You missed Asgard. Gods you missed Asgard. 

Tears fell in fat drops from your eyes, down your cheeks, and dripping onto your outfit. You had taken to wearing more skirts. You chuckled as you stood there. As if the skirts were the barrier to Loki fucking you. 

Your mind was a mess. It was a beautiful day outside and you were standing there in all black, crying. It was like you were attending a funeral of one. Your own funeral. 

You sniffled. Snot leaked out of your nose. You were not an attractive crier. The pressure in your chest eased as you finally allowed yourself this moment of weakness. You knew you needed this. But this should have been done at home. 

You conjured a tissue and started to wipe your eyes and blow your nose. 

“Darling?” 

You gasped and turned to see Loki standing near the back entrance. How scowled as he looked at you. Oh gods. You turned from him and frantically wiped your face. He did not need to see you like this.

“One second!” You said. Your voice warbled and you coughed a few times to cover it up. The more you wiped your nose, the more snot seemed to shoot out. You sniffled, but really it needed to be blown out. And there was no way to blow your nose and hide that you had been crying. 

“What’s happened?” He was right beside you. You jumped with a little shriek and moved away from him, keeping him at your back. It was the worst thing to do as a fighter. Never turn your back on someone. Friend or foe. But you’d live with a knife in the back if it meant that Loki didn’t see you fall apart. 

Loki grabbed you by the shoulders and flipped you around. Still, you looked everywhere but at him. He didn’t need to see this. It was so embarrassing. 

Loki held your face in his hands and forced your eyes to meet his. You blinked up into his crystal blue eyes. Your tears still fell, over his long fingers and down the sides of his hands and onto your cheeks. 

“What happened?” His voice was soft. Too soft. He didn’t do soft. There was nothing soft about Loki. You hated it.

“Nothing. I stubbed my toe,” you said. You tried to jerk from his grasp but his grip was iron tight. He wouldn’t let you budge. 

“We don’t lie to each other,” he said. 

“Yeah? How was your visit with Thor?” You asked. 

Loki reared back and his lips thinned into a near perfect line. “He’s fine.” His voice was clipped. Almost angry. 

“We don’t lie to each other,” you said. 

“We’re not discussing Thor. We’re talking about you. Who made you cry?” 

A bubble of laughter welled up but you held it back. There was nothing funny about your boss finding you crying like a little girl who lost her puppy. You looked skyward, willing the tears away. 

“I’m handling it,” you said. 

Fury. Loki’s eyes darkened to the color of the sky before a storm. He gripped your arm and pulled you off to the side, where there were a few desks. No one really worked out in the bay, but it was easier to keep a desk there for signing for packages and the like. There was a storage room to the side, locked, for keeping the non-perishable overstock. You liked to be prepared, oh well. 

Loki pushed you down onto the desk, bent over and your ass in the air. You tried to stand but he kept a firm hand on your lower back. 

“Every time you lie or don’t tell me what I want to hear, I’ll spank you,” he said.

“What?” You tried to stand up again, but you heard the smack before you felt it. In the position that you were in, your skirt didn’t stand a chance. You wore panties, but you were still exposed to him. The sting vibrated and radiated. You were too stunned to do anything but stand there and feel it. 

“Why were you crying?” He asked.

“I told you, I’m handling–” You knew the smack was coming and yet you were still surprised by it. You rocked from foot to foot trying to get away. Loki kicked your legs until he spread them. Your pussy clenched around nothing. You were at his mercy and he was spanking you. And you were so turned on, you almost begged him to take you right then and there. 

This was it. This was how you finally went insane and buckled under all the pressure you were under. 

“Why were you crying, Darling?” He asked. 

You licked your lips. You could tell him what was going on with the shipment. But it was too close to feeling like a failure. You haven't failed yet. The shipment was temporarily housed somewhere else. 

His next smack was harder, causing you to buck against the desk. The edge dug into your belly but it was nothing in comparison to the heat and pain spreading around your ass cheeks. 

“I didn’t say anything!” You yelled.

“I’m aware,” he said. 

“I’m allowed to cry, you know!” You said. 

Smack. You cried out. But it was also so fucked up and erotic that you found yourself arching your back and silently asking for more. You flopped your forehead onto the desk. It was cool to the touch and helped stamp out the heat rushing over you. 

Loki touched your ass and you jerked. You had expected another smack. This was worse. The heat of his palm made the stinging bloom. It made fresh arousal leak out of you and soaked your panties.

“I won’t ask again, Darling.” His voice had gone low, deep, and furious. You wished you could see his face. 

“There was a tiny problem with a shipment today. That’s all,” you told him. You expected a smack, tensed for it, but he continued to lightly rub your booty. You slowly relaxed as it was clear he wasn’t going to hit you. More’s the pity. 

“What kind of problem?” He asked.

You took a deep breath. Every word was painful. You’d rather stick a hot poker against your skin than admit you couldn’t do something. But you wanted his hands on you so you played along.

“I signed for our shipment of ale. I put the receipt in my office and left the kitchen staff to stock it. It’s missing,” you said. You sounded robotic, even to your own ears. 

“What do you mean, missing?” He asked. His hands had stilled and you wiggled, trying to get him to move.

You told him everything, in as little detail as possible. You kept your emotions out of it. It was no big deal. A huge shipment had gone missing and you would find it. It was your specialty. Only, it wasn’t. Hand you a knife, you knew what to do with it. Corralling a bunch of employees was a walk in the park. But how did someone fight an unknowable enemy? You couldn’t see the saboteur. They walked around as if they were invisible. They slipped in and out of the club at whim. 

You might as well try to fight a ghost. It’d probably be easier to capture and kill. A hard smack to your ass brought you out of your thoughts. “I told you what happened! What was that for?!” 

“Why were you crying about a shipment of ale?” He asked. 

You bit your cheek and refused to speak. He didn’t get to have everything. “How is it fair that I can’t have secrets, but you can? You demand that I spill my guts every time we speak. Yet I, merely gum beneath your boot, isn’t fit to know anything about you?” 

Loki smacked your ass three times. Hard. You cried after each smack. Yet your ass rose to meet his hand each time. 

“Do you not see all of my secrets? Have I not made it clear that you are what consumes me? I have no hobby, save for you. I have no dreams, save to see you smile. I yearn to hear every word from your lips, every sigh from your mouth, and see every scathing look you give me.” 

His words shredded you down to your bones. You hated that you couldn’t see his face. You couldn’t read him. You could only go off of your instinct. And it was telling you that he meant every word he said. 

He moved your panties to the side and slipped a finger inside of you. You moaned. You were dripping wet and he slid in easily. He sighed. He started to pump his fingers into you. 

“You are mine, Darling. I want your every syllable. Every utterance. I want your anger. Your curses. Your laughs. Your pleasure. All of it. Why were you crying?” 

You moaned as he added a second finger, stretching you. Your legs shook. Your hands were splayed on the desk. The fake wood under your hand was all you had to anchor yourself. Your breath was shaky and ended on a tiny whine. 

“I’m overwhelmed,” you admitted. Loki hummed and continued to fuck you with his fingers. 

“I’m so fucking tired all the time. There is always a fire to put out around here. But that’s okay, I’m good at that. I thrive at that. That’s just what I do. But when I go home…the house here is nothing like Asgard. That house is frigid and desolate. I hate climbing the stairs knowing that my family is gone and I don’t know what happened to them. Thanos could have snapped them away. They could be on another planet. They could be here. I just don’t know. And I can’t help my siblings. My sister won’t come out of her room, she’s so depressed. And my brother is so angry all the time. I don’t know what to do anymore,” you choked on your words even as you ground your hips on his fingers. 

You were weary. Bone-deep, weary. And there was a part of you that just wanted to lay down and not get back up. You were tired of saving everyone and no one came to save you. There. You said it. You wanted someone to save you. You wanted someone to swoop in, save the day, and give you a break for once. 

But you also knew that you wouldn’t trust it. As soon as you relied on someone, they would disappear. Leaving you to pick up the pieces. 

“You don’t have to be alone, Darling. I’m right here,” he said softly. He leaned down and kissed both of your ass cheeks. It still stung from his spanking and you hissed as his cool lips touched them. “We’re stronger together. You know it. I know it.” 

You were so fucking close, you could taste it. You trembled at his words and with how gentle he was being. In all the years that you’d known him, gentle was not in his vocabulary. But here he was. Not shaming you for your weakness, but offering to help. 

He straightened up and removed his fingers. You heard him moan as he presumably sucked on his fingers. 

“Hey!” You moved to stand up but he gave another hard smack to your ass. If you thought the previous ones were tough, this one robbed you of all breath. He stepped away, finally letting you straighten up. 

He crowded your space, grabbed your face and kissed you. It was consuming and overwhelming. You leaned in for more but he pulled away and kissed your forehead. 

“We will find the traitor in our midst. But it must be together. Don’t hide from me,” he said. 

You looked at him. Really looked into his mesmerizing eyes. There was a swirl of emotions you couldn’t even try to puzzle out. He was still unknowable to you. And you feared that there was always going to be a part of him you couldn’t touch. A hidden depth that seemed to recognize a kindred spirit in yourself. But your pain was not his. He carried his pain in the set of his jaw, the amused smirk he wore like a mask, and his bright eyes that saw more than anyone in existence. Except for maybe Heimdall. 

“It’s not in my nature to open up. But I’ll try,” you said.

He kissed you again. Reverently, softly, like the rainbow kissing the sky after it rained. 

“I will have more than that, but that will suffice for now.” He smirked at you.

“Well? You can’t just leave me like this,” you said. You weren’t going to attempt to sit. Just hovering your ass close to the desk made you want to cry. In fact, your skirt was too sensitive right now. The mesh frills rubbed against your butt and you fought tensing up and hissing. 

It paled next to your desperate need to cum. It was just out of reach. If he kept going, you were sure it wouldn’t take you any time at all. 

Loki smirked. “Consider it your punishment. If spanking only turns you on, then you’ll get no relief from me right now,” he said. 

“You’re insane,” you huffed. 

“I’ll teach you this lesson a thousand times, my Darling,” he said and nuzzled your cheek, your jaw, and your neck. He licked your neck, right over your pulse point. You whined as a tingle shot through you. 

“I’ll do whatever I see fit with you. Now come along. We have a shipment to find and a traitor to punish.” 

He withdrew from you and started walking backwards towards the door. You gaped at him. He couldn’t be fucking serious. He grinned as he turned and walked into the club. You contemplated all the ways you could kill him and hide the body as you followed him inside.

Masterlist | Chapter 5 | Chapter 7

[miyuhpapayuh]

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