#i need a black lace veil for these trying times

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

What are you excited for when the new Welcome Home update drops?

oh. literally Everything and Anything. to see how the site changes, to see all the neighbors again, for all the new things whatever they may be! Story Progression! Images! Words!

[vaaaaaiolet]

When you run out of his work summit on the brink of tears, you can't believe that Leon hasn't picked up on how he hurt you. His only option is to apologize, but you're not listening to a word he says. So he'll just have to make you watch.

mdni i'm so serious. married f / m smut where porn is the plot THERE'S LORE I SWEAR, sour then sweet dom leon, mirror sex, EMOTIONS, aftercare :3 + 1 bad pun

a/n: anon req'd reader w/ praise kink. i really thought i did something and then i read it and i wanted to die. it isn't my writing if i don't try turning smut into shitty poetry.

word count: 2.9k // read on ao3

“I’m apologizing now, aren’t I?”

“A little late for that, Agent Kennedy,” you seethe. 

Your metronome heels keep time with the irate pounding of your heartbeat. This California Ritz-Carlton hallway stretches like the goddamn Shining and you can’t seem to get away fast enough from your husband. He’s too damn good at his job, and you’re too smart to pretend that this dance the two of you are playing at is anything but a distraction, an impediment.

You are a distraction. You’ve been an unwelcome one all night.

So you’d cut it short yourself.

One keycard slice through the sensor and the sanctuary of your hotel room opens up to you, messy with the aftermath of black-tie preparation. You step up to the vanity; plant your palms on its wooden surface and stare straight ahead as if to admire your ruined mascara. It’s a formality, really. It’s not as if you need the mirror to remind you what happened in this room. Tonight began with indulgent kisses afraid to smudge dress shirt collars, hands squeezed for courage, Leon in perpetual pursuit of the train of your gown. Big dreams.

“You wanna talk? We can talk.” Leon shuts the door with an exasperated sigh. “Don’t make this difficult, sweetheart.”

“I didn’t do a damn thing,” you hiss. You stare daggers at his reflection.

“Really?” His shoulders drop. “Then what was all that with the storming off, the- oh baby, don’t look at me like that.” 

Leon’s arms wrap around your middle while his nose buries itself in your diamond-laced neck. He’s good at that, that sneaking thing without leaving so much as a whisper to signal where he’s going. The higher-ups at the DSO call it stealth. You just want the man you married to tell you what the hell he’s doing before he makes a fool out of you. 

“I didn’t mean to upset you. I swear,” he whispers, kissing softly down your neck. “Didn’t mean it at all, I’m sorry. What’d I do?”

You scoff. 

He’s testing the waters. A rough thumb finds and starts running down the divot of your spine, thank you backless Mirror Palais ballgown. Pass the smoking gun back and forth, pretend not to see the shrapnel from the bullet holes. You don’t pay Leon any heed as you stoically unhook diamond pendants from your ears, and he frowns.

“I said I was sorry.” 

“I shouldn’t need to tell you what you did, Leon.” 

Shame simmers sickly and strong in the pit of your stomach. You teeter on the edge of snapping altogether and consider throwing his blankets on the floor for the night – you will, actually, as soon you take off all your evening regalia. In your haste, your nails end up nicking Leon’s nose when he tries to murmur another weightless apology.

The kisses stop leaching onto your collarbone. “Don’t play this game with me, sweetheart.” 

“So now you’re calling me immature?”   

“Isn’t that what you call running out of my work summit? Making me chase you down?” Leon counters, running his hands down your sides in a last-ditch effort to diffuse the situation. Thinly-veiled irritation finally seeps into his tone. “What exactly did I do?”

And gosh, does that get the tears going. He’s so blind it hurts.

You tug pins furiously out of your hair in an effort to keep an impending outburst at bay. “You practically had me on a leash!”

Not once had he let you out of his sight in that dreadful ballroom. In front of all those international representatives and agents, people whose reputations preceded them, Leon had kept you attached to him with a heavy hand on your waist, glued to his hip like an untrustworthy child he’d lose track of at a supermarket. Coughs had quickly turned to snickers behind your back. You’re no agent, sure, but you could expect to have some kind of autonomy, right? 

The guest badge you’d flung over the hotel room bed glints tauntingly now, respected by every security detail except the one whose chest your back is currently pressed against. It’s humiliating how untrustworthy, how incapable he made you look tonight.

Leon blinks. “You’re saying I think you can’t handle yourself?”

“You don’t have to. You showed me all night.” 

Tears drip down your cheeks when he relents, his arms lifting like fog over the Golden Gate, and if you’re finally free from his clutches, you might as well take off this suffocating dress. It’s gauzy and gorgeous and completely worthless despite the stack of bills Leon paid for it, however giddy you’d been when he’d brought it home. 

If only you could reach the tiny zipper perched on your tailbone. 

Leon, ever the perceptive one, however, never passes up an opening whether it be zipped or not. He’s got a handy index and thumb; he puts them to use. He’s your husband after all. 

“Right, okay,” he exhales sharply, tugging the chain as your back bows forward, “I did this all wrong. I thought you’d catch on when I should’ve just shown you instead.”

“Show me what?”

A hand inside your newly agape gown. A palm pivoting south to the curve of your hip, pressing, searching. Leon presses his lips to your neck in answer, but this time, it’s urgent in a way that doesn’t quite feel like remorse. He hisses.

“Tell me to stop and I fucking will, but this is my last resort considering how bad I seem to be with my words, sweetheart. How many times have I told you I’m sorry?”

“You-”

A squeeze on your hip. A direction. 

“I need a number.”

The door, your neck, seconds ago.

“...three.”

“And not one of them made it inside that pretty head of yours,” Leon scowls. “Doesn’t look like words are either of our strong suits. Chin up for me, doll, and pay attention ‘cause I’m only asking this once.”

So you do, you lift your face to meet mascara-rimmed eyes in the mirror along with Leon’s sapphire-blue ones that glint right behind, and his palm drifts up to cup your jaw from underneath. He tilts it back and forth. Kisses his teeth. 

“Tell me. How am I supposed to let my wife loose in a room full of criminals just like that?”

What?

Leon circles your cheekbone with the pad of his thumb, pulling away quickly. Too early to indulge in this kind of affection. “Thought I asked you something, doll.”

But you hesitate, and so Leon must disappear. His final instructions are to face forward.

He dives to the floor, locking rough fingers around your ankles only to slide them up to the backs of your shins. He goes under so quick that there’s a breeze; you’re granted mere seconds to watch Leon’s blond head duck underneath the floor-length train of your dress and by then, it’s far too late to notice the fire. 

Leon loves starting those.

He also doesn’t wait. Invisible flames lick up your bare legs from Leon’s dragon mouth. Red hot kisses trail up your thighs – he drops a sweet one on the inside of your right knee, makes you buckle momentarily – and these stubbled kisses of his have a tendency to sear any skin on their skyward path. You can’t remember when your elbows propped themselves on the vanity, out of instinct, maybe, to keep the floor of your stomach from falling out at the very first sneak of Leon’s tongue inside the drenched lace gusset of your panties. 

But you can’t afford to be surprised, can you? Not with the line of destruction he’s left behind on his way to his destination. They say it takes one to know one. 

You clutch the edge of the vanity’s shelf, suck down sobs in your throat fluttering into something indecent.

“I need you to talk to me,” he whispers with his lips pressed to your pussy. The vibration echoes up your spine, jerks your head back. “You’re all clammed up. Keeping secrets.”

Air gushes down your throat. “And you’re not?” 

“Of course I am, baby, but I’m explaining, aren’t I?” 

Kiss. Kiss. Suck. 

You keen with your mouth shut.

He noses at your clit, prompting you. “So, where’s your explanation?”

Another quality the DSO prides itself on is your husband’s ability to sweet-talk himself out of a tight spot. That seems to includes in between your legs. Your thighs clench together in a final attempt of defiance when his mouth makes contact with your cunt. Your reflection in the mirror starts to swim at the first swirl of Leon’s tongue, and he makes quick work of you with his goal being none other than to dangle the promise of more to come, literally. 

Thumbs tuck into sensitive folds, and you’re gone. Shaking at the first breach of Leon’s fingers inside you. You spread apart at his will. He dips into arousal now impossible to ignore, and when sparks finally light at the hot air Leon blows over your spasming pussy, he commits his second unforgivable sin of the night: ducking right back out at the crest of your orgasm.

You have principles. The mirror reflects Leon’s swollen lips, tousled hair damp with you when he rises from his knees, and above all this, you clench your teeth. Face forward. 

He wipes his mouth.

“That’s one.” 

The other two remain rhetorical.

You’re being lifted bridal-style when the seal on your mouth finally breaks. “Leon,” you tremble in his arms, “where are we?” The summit, the people; you chase his mouth for any explanation. “You’re working with criminals now?” 

“Yes and no. Arms up,” Leon rasps, and tugs down what remains of your gown, crashes his mouth onto yours. 

You taste yourself in his kiss. Surely that’s not an answer, is it?

“Tonight was a mission,” he continues in his feverish haste, quickly laying your naked body onto the bed before kissing down your breasts.

Pride gets tossed on the floor next to your undergarments, his crumpled dress shirt. 

“The DSO couldn’t guarantee you wouldn’t become collateral for this assignment if things went south and I didn’t want to risk it. So I took you with me.” 

“You brought me to a- oh! ” 

Two thick fingers push into your sopping cunt. You squeal, clutch the sheets. Leon presses the ribbed flesh nestled deep inside you, carving out room for himself from his kneel at the foot of the bed. He gouges deep and you writhe. Your arousal shimmers on his fingers when he finally pulls them out and you find that have nothing to say about that.

“Go on,” he coos lowly. “Don’t get quiet now.” 

Your head whirls. “You sh-should’ve told me they were dangerous.”  

“And where do you think that would’ve gotten us, sweetheart? I didn’t want you panicking. Blowing cover. I had you to take care of and intel to gather, I couldn’t think straight myself. Letting you out of my sight could’ve meant losing you.”

Fuck. You don’t need a mirror to remember how antsy Leon had been before going down to the ballroom. 

Hands squeezed for courage. Hand on your waist. 

The vanilla and leather on his skin had reeked of nerves, and you? You’d written it off.

“I wanted to keep you safe.” Leon looks up at you now, eyes glinting in the dim light. There’s a new softness in their blue depths, a sincere apology. “I just wish you'd believe me.” 

By all intents and purposes, Leon Scott Kennedy is sorry.

There’s been a lapse in judgment. Your elbows sit you up from the bed to fix it. Cupping his cheek, you lean forward to meet Leon’s waiting mouth in a long overdue embrace, one he can melt into with relief. There’s no bitterness on your tongue now. Just sweetness in the seconds you take to breathe your forgiveness into him. The clink of his falling belt promises no punishment.

“But you can’t let me off the hook just yet,” Leon murmurs when he tugs free from your latch on his bottom lip, “I hurt you, angel, and I never wanted to. Tell me I can fix it.”

He can. Your husband can fix everything, the world included. You sigh your approval, yes, yes, more, because forgiveness feels incredible as he lays your shoulders down, sets your hips straight when you twist them the first time he teases his cock’s weeping head over the soaked seam of your pussy. 

“Don’t take your eyes off the mirror for a second,” Leon instructs.

He plants his palms on the sides of your head. You whimper; swear you won’t.

“I mean it. Watch yourself, and maybe then you’ll understand how crazy you drive me.”

So begins your descent. 

You’re drowning, crying for air when Leon sinks into the liquid warmth you’ve saved for him. There’s so much of him to take, tight, tight, tight – your mind is a melting record. You’re breaking. Can’t disappoint him again. When your overwhelmed cunt nearly pushes him out, Leon just chuckles. He cants his hips to compensate, goes at it again. That should be enough to tell you how the DSO’s finest agent never lets a detail go amiss. 

“The Belgium ambassador started tailing you by the fountain." 

And to your astonishment, he starts rattling off half the world map. 

“Got rid of him quick. Then there was a – oh, sweetheart, you’re gonna kill me – Swedish agent, don’t remember what I did to him.” 

A roll of his hips. Your nails down his back. 

“Someone from Germany tried to dose your champagne. Another from Argentina, shit,” his thrusts grow erratic the longer the list grows, “two from Russia, a Japanese spy – perfect fucking pussy, oh my God…”

Your husband takes you on a trip around the globe. He’d traveled to the ends of the earth in that ballroom, kept your back bulletproof with just his hand, the one that was once a collar to you. Turns out being a Kennedy puts you on a hitlist; makes your blood run blue. 

“Too much!” you sob.

You can’t take the responsibility. 

But here in the dark, here with Leon, there’s just pleasure. Opulence. The back of his head is a blond crown in the vanity mirror, the diamonds on your breasts sparkle with each bounce from Leon’s cock slamming home. Even the gooey mess you’re leaving on the chiseled marble of his lower stomach shimmers. War paint from a battle won for you.

Your head falls away from the mirror and Leon guides it back without losing his rhythm. “Mm-mm. You need to see your face when you break.” 

Never has a threat sounded so loving on anyone’s lips, you imagine. 

Your hands tangle into his hair, you grow quiet, you clench. You’re close. This, he can feel.

His lips curve into a weary grin. “Wanted you to see why I had eyes on my baby all night. My pretty girl, all mine.”

Lucky you. 

That somehow does you in. Every word of praise Leon utters makes it clear that no, he did trust you, does trust you. He trusted you enough to know you could hold your own in that lion’s den downstairs, trusts now that you’ll forgive him for a misstep born of love. And with that realization, your pleasure rides helium high. 

“Shit, Leon!” you cry.

Electric pressure builds in your sensitive bud, the one Leon rubs frantically now. Gasps from your wide open mouth sweeten the air like perfume and Leon wishes he could breathe it all in, you’re beautiful when he turns you into a wailing mess. All for him.  

“This one’s two, angel,” he groans when you flutter around him. No way. 

His cock had put you in a trance, so warm and filling is it inside you. You’d forgotten about the deal entirely. 

Your cries increase precariously in pitch. “Oh, please, please, you can’t, Leon, I have to-” 

“Hold on!” 

Leon presses you into the sheets one last time to free the pretty songbird singing his name. You sprout wings in the looking glass.

The afterglow is golden. The sunset is long gone but it glows in your hotel room all the same, wrapped in silk sheets and Leon’s arms.

“You’re beautiful like this, you know?” he hums, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. 

“What, all sweaty and gross?” You wouldn’t expect him to know. He’s gorgeous. Leon is gorgeous when he makes love to you.

He nods, laughing when you roll your eyes. “Really, you do. Enough that I had to spend half my mission clawing bad guys off you. But I got it finished, and so did you in the process, huh?” 

Leon drops a kiss to your forehead, murmuring one last I’m sorry, his fourth one.

Shit. 

You scramble to hide under the sheets, leaving him cocking his head after you in utter confusion. “Wait, wait, what’s the matter?”

“I can’t do any more, Leon, I’m gonna pass out.” 

“Do any…?”

“You only left off on two!” 

Leon snorts. You soon feel a warm press on the top of your head: a sugary, schoolboy-sweet kiss.

“There you go, baby. That’s three. Apology accepted?”

And when you poke your head out of the covers to give Leon a kiss of your own, you make sure he knows it’s for apology number four.

He shouldn’t be so surprised you noticed. It’s not like you can take your eyes off him either.

psst, find more of my work here!

comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <3 take care and i love you!

[autumnalmoons]

Your late-night company (nsfw, mdni, +18 only)

It's smut bc I'm a horny bitch (lovingly), and because I want him to split me in half--I know he can, like c'mon

Viktor x fem!Reader | 2.1K

Notes: PWP, Established relationship, set kinda between act 1 and act 2, Vaginal Fingering, Innapropiate use of Viktor's cane (sorryyyy), Dom!Viktor if you squint, Cockwarming, Nipple play, English isn't my native language so lemme know if i messed up somewhere :)

Ever since he could hear the echo of your heels reverberate around the lab like a second heartbeat, Viktor knew you were onto something—and such rhythm makes his heart pick up speed too, though Viktor’s faster than each one of your carefree strides against the dark marble floor.

You go, smooching his cheek and surely leaving a pink mark on your lipstick. Not that he minds, of course, he's used to leaving his loving marks on you, too, and even now, he can see the now purplish hickey down your collarbone that you’ve been trying to veil with a silk scarf.

“What brings you here, my darling?” Viktor hums, unconsciously seeking your lips. Is that pink lipstick the one that tastes like cherry? He’s a man of science, he’s ought to investigate.

“Nothing much. I came to bring you home,” you say, hugging his slender frame from behind, your chin hooked in the crook of his shoulder, just over his back brace. “I miss my Vitya so, so much…”

Viktor shivers, trying to ground himself in the domestic, seemingly innocent gesture of a kiss over your temple. "I miss you, too, my jewel. Alas, Progress Day is in a couple of weeks, and we need to have everything ready in case a mishap happens.” He sighs, thick brows furrowing in focus. “As usually does.”

You nod. Of course, you understand that his work is a priority, but you also have a good memory; of those two past days when you went to sleep alone. There are those familiar purple bags under his eyes, only darker.

“Hmm, alright,” you say, massaging his scalp for a bit before wandering around the lab. “Then allow me to make you company. This place is filthy, handsome.”

“Chaos potentiates creativity.”

Your chuckle reverberates around the lab, which causes Viktor to lift his chin a little higher, how easily he can make you happy.

He turns back toward his desk, hearing you going toward the closet supply to get a feathery duster, mumbling a song under your breath as you hop around cleaning surfaces and wiping down machinery with a piece of cloth.

It's only a matter of time before your plan starts, and you have calculated it just as perfectly as Viktor's equations; using your knowledge of the man next to you, his existence is the most amazing creation you've seen—much to Viktor's attempts to surpass it with his machines.

You dust off the drawer next to his desk, ‘accidentally’ knocking off one of the pens tossed over the wooden surface, further down against the wall. "Oops!" you say in your best role of an actress, which isn't that good, only for him to look your way.

The floor is cold as you brush it with your fingers, a fine layer of dust and carbon covering it. One of the windows must be open because you can feel the cold autumn wind brushing under your mischievously short skirt, one of Viktor's favorites, right against your already wet folds that the underwear you chose today isn't meant to cover.

You want him to see. Swaying your hips playfully the moment you feel his gaze burn your back.

Over the purring of the machines, you hear his air leave in a sharp inhale.

Between not wearing panties at all, you choose ones made of black lace and cute, little black ribbons decorating the most… enticing areas. The cloth down your pussy was too small, and you had to choose or covering your clit, or covering your core—which of course, you choose the eager bundle of nerves, so Viktor could see you all wet and glistening for him.

Smiling, you push the pen further down his desk, a soft—very inappropriate—groan escaping your lips, copying my memory of one of the sounds you made every time his cock presses that special spot inside of you.

“I liked that pen a lot,” Viktor mutters, though you can hear the smirk in his voice.

By now, you have no idea where that damned pen had gone. “I’m sure I can make it up for you about that,” you say, knees bending slightly, so your pussy can open a little. Only if he ever tries to play the oblivious.

A chair squeaked, and it’s impossible not to start imagining Viktor’s lithe fingers caressing the curve of your ass. Instead, you got the cold metal of his cane’s handle.

“Ah!” He chuckled at hearing your surprised gasp.

“Is that disappointment I hear, my jewel? Or just cold?” He hums, dragging the handle along the folds of your pussy until it brushes your entrance, only the tip. “You’re all dressed up for me. And I wonder… why is that, hmm?” he says, the tip of the cane playing between your folds. “Is it because you’d like to ‘keep me company’?”

“I never told you how I planned to accompany you," You mutter, feeling your legs starting to shake as the cold metal meets your boiling core, thinking that you were about to melt.

“Use your words, darling. If you’re so eager.”

There is a certain edge to his words, the hoarse tone around his R replacing the usual soft tone he uses to whisper to you when you two aren’t in the privacy of your bedroom.

“I… I thought you may need… um…” you say, voice lost with each playful movement of his cane in and out your entrance; barely some inches in, but moving it just right thanks to the exhaustive research Viktor had conducted ever since he caught you with that vibrator. Little by little, your arousal warms the metal, and you wonder if Viktor can feel it, too. “Relaxing.”

“Relaxing? My, I’d say this is rather… distracting,” he chuckles, the wheels of his stool coming closer as you hold your hands against your burning thighs. “A pleasant one, of course, but still a distraction.”

“Oh? Then do I deserve a punishment?” You try your best to quip, though your voice quivers mid-sentence.

There’s barely a heartbeat of silence, and then:

“Bend over the desk,” he says, voice stern. You could almost picture him in one of the Academy’s auditoriums giving a lecture in that tone, absolute, bossy. He knows it, of course. He knows you, after all, just like any of inventions, he had spent several hours studying you. Loving you.

Your walls squeeze nothing at the words, but the light from the descending dusk is enough for him to see it.

“Hmm,” Viktor says. “I wonder how you’ve been pleasing yourself these days that I haven’t returned home, my jewel.”

You attempt to roll over—you want to see him, because he looked just so unfairly stunning with his brown hair stuck to his temples, beads of sweat running down his chest as he bit his lip as seeing you just so shamelessly needy for him, trying to contain himself just a little longer...

He pushes your back down the desk, pinching your butt once he catches you trying to turn your head to see him.

“Oh, no, no, my love. If you are going to distract me, then you must accept the consequences.” He bends down, biting your earlobe before nuzzling his nose down your neck, taking in the sweet essence of your clothes, of your hair, the same one he could always smell on his pillow. The mix of his shampoo makes his grasp on your hips tighten.

You whine, pouted lips parting in a breathless moan when he introduces the handler of his cane inside of you, his thumb lazily rubbing circles on your clit, first clockwise, and then in the contrary direction once he feels your walls starting to contract, ushering your orgasm away.

The wet sounds of the handle coming in and out your soaked cunt fills the lab, Viktor’s stool creaking as he re-position. From the sound of his pants unbuckling, you think you know what he’s doing that needed such a good grip on his seat.

“I wonder if you’d take me as well,” he mumbles, your wet sounds mixed with a new one that could only be Viktor starting to jack off from the view of you. "All those toys and they can't replace me.” He uses his left knee to part your legs even wider, his free hand making a wrinkled mess of your skirt, just above your hips.

You huff, fingers white from grabbing the edge of the desk. “As if I’ve ever disappointed you.”

Viktor chuckles, pinching your clit slightly before letting go. The emptiness fills you when he withdraws his cane, though the narrow length is soon replaced by the thick head of his cock rubbing against your entrance.

“Mmmm,” you hum, satisfied. Your hips buckle against him, trying to take him inside of you in one thrust.  Sadly, Viktor’s punishment for keeping him away from his duties was never.-ending teasing.

Viktor caresses the curve of your ass, his hands going to brush the outline of your hips and waist until his chest is against your back once again, his big length teasing through your folds without actually giving you what you want—and yet, you know you could finish off with only this. Would he be so cruel, though?

“Come here,” he mutters against your ear, sliding a hand around your waist, and pushing you down the seat with him.

You hiss, feeling the quick buckle of his hips as his cock burrows deep inside of you, twitching at the welcoming, wet warmth of your walls. His hands take you by the hips to stop you from starting to ride him.

“Shhh, shhh. Patience, my love,” Viktor coos, nuzzling his face in the side of your neck as he bites a trail of kisses toward your shoulder, fingers gently pulling down one end of the scarf, brushing slowly down your shoulders to reveal the quite generous cut in your neckline.

Humming, approbatory, Viktor returns to his desk, with a firm grip around your waist to keep you still.

He kisses your cheek, putting his cane against the wall. The metal glistens, soaked with your juices against the reddish hue of the dying sunlight.

His right hand pushes your legs open, tangling your legs against the desk to keep them open when his fingers slide down your stomach, fingers lazily rubbing your clit.

Closing your eyes, your head lolls against his shoulder, letting him take your lips in a kiss that lets you taste the bitterness of the coffee he has just drank to keep himself awake during the night.

His tongue passes along your bottom lip, and it’s indeed that cherry-flavored lipstick, teeth grazing the sensitive skin as the hand grabbing your hip raises to grab your breasts when he grows needy, too.

“Vitya…” you moan, voice muffled as he kisses you again.

“My favorite blouse,” Viktor says, tugging down the smock of the front so he could see your lacy black bra. “So easy to access.”

You smile, hips gently swaying side to side against his lap each time he strokes your clit.

Viktor’s fingers work masterfully inside your bra, rubbing your nipple as your hands frantically undo the clip of your top so he can push the bra away.

It’s too much. Between his playful nibbles down your neck, the slow circles drawn on your clit, his fingers pinching your nipples and rubbing them to make the little peaks soft again even his cock filling you, although still, is enough to push you through the edge of pleasure. Legs shiver as your mouth stutters a moan, letting out a cry that Viktor drowned with his mouth.

“We can’t let the guards know what we’re doing, don’t you think, my jewel?”

“Why… why not?” you pant, kissing the mole peeking above his shirt’s collar. “My boyfriend fucks me so good,” you giggle.

Viktor smiled, his cock twitching at your lewd words. Your walls keep squeezing him, greedily wanting to be soaked with his cum.

"I haven't yet today," Viktor hums, deep in thought, kissing your sweaty brow. “Let me finish revising this blueprint, and we’ll go home.”

You pout, but only another heated kiss is necessary to make you respond:

“Okay,” you say, all doe-eyed now that you’re satisfied. Momentarily, of course. And that you had convinced him to go home. “But only this one blueprint. Or I’ll bite you.” You try to stand up, Viktor’s hand yanking you back between his legs before his cock could sleep out from your pussy.

“I never said you could move, my love,” Viktor says, squeezing your hips playfully. “I’d take you can be a good girl while I finish my work?”

You shake your head. “No.”

Viktor chuckles, his free hand starts to rub your overstimulated clit once again. His other hand quickly drops his pen to reach the bottom drawer of his desk, where you can see the outline of the vibrator Viktor keeps there ‘just in case’. “I suppose I just have to tire you up, then.”

[buckets-and-trees]

Chosen, Part 6: Procession

Characters/Pairings: eventual Bucky x curvy Millennial Female!Reader, Natasha Romanoff x reader x Steve Rogers, Natasha x Steve, Thor Word Count: 4.2k Summary: Steve and Natasha have primed you, and now it's time for final preparations and then making your way to the event.

SERIES Content Warnings: SOFT!DARK STORY, cult themes, explicit smut, dubious consent and enthusiastic consent, veiled truths, gaslighting, sleeping drugs

CHAPTER Content Warnings: cult elements; explicit smut: touching, groping, kissing, couple having sex specifically to arouse you, edging, vaginal sex but not for you, teasing, vaginal fingering, grinding/humping, exhibitionism, dirty/provocative talk, orgasm denial

Notes: There's a little bit more than just smut this time, haha.

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"It's almost time,” Natasha affirms. “We need to get you dressed."

She sits up and slides gracefully off the bed.

You blink, trying to clear more the haze of arousal from your mind. "Dressed? But I thought..."

"The ritual has specific requirements," Steve explains, his deep voice sending another shiver through you. "What you wear is part of it."

There was no question in your mind that sexual acts - intercourse specifically, after their preparation of your body - would be part of the ritual, so you had assumed that meant nakedness for you. There’s some blessed relief that you will have at least some covering, even if it’s minimal – unlike the experience you just endured where you were the only one naked in the room.

Natasha smoothes out her dress, adjusts her hair, retouches her lipstick, and then looks at her watch. “We have just enough time, but we don’t want to keep our founder waiting,” she sayd as she moves towards the closet room.

At the mention of the founder, a shiver of anticipation - or is it fear? - runs through you. The reality of the situation you find yourself in seems like it can’t be real, and yet it is, and there’s a thread drawing you in, a thread that’s been there from the beginning and woven itself into you.

Steve helps you sit up, your body still trembling slightly from their ministrations. You feel almost boneless, weak with unfulfilled desire. As you swing your legs over the side of the bed, you're acutely aware of how open and sensitive you feel.

Natasha returns from the closet clutching a garment bag in one hand and a pair of leather sandals in the other.

"Stand up," Natasha instructs gently.

You obey, your legs a bit shaky. Steve's steady hand on your lower back helps you maintain your balance.

Natasha lays the garment bag across the foot of the bed. She unzips it to reveal a deep midnight blue chemise, the color so rich and dark it looks almost black. The silk fabric shimmers under the light, and intricate lace adorns the bustline and hem, adding a touch of decadence. Natasha slips it off the hanger and hands it to Steve. He helps you slip it on over your head, his hands grazing your sides, sending little tremors down your spine, every nerve ending in your body still sensitive and wanting.

The fabric is cool against your heated skin, so light it feels like you're wearing nothing at all. Delicate shoulder straps hold the neckline in place, revealing in a way that straddles the line between modest and salacious. The dress falls halfway down your thighs, but the high slits on each side reach to nearly the top of your hips. You can’t help but feel incredible in this somehow perfectly tailored piece, clinging to your curves in all the right places and draping gracefully over the imperfections you typically worry over.

If you were staying here in the bedroom, wearing this for only your partner (or in this case partners), you would feel gorgeous and unquestionably confident.

But the thought of wearing this in front of who knows how many others? Your pulse jumps.

Natasha didn’t retrieve underwear for you. You don’t question that the exclusion was intentional.

She takes your hand and leads you back over to stand next to the vanity. Steve follows right behind, shoes in hand, and kneels to help you slip your feet into the sandals while Natasha begins to touch you up. She takes you from looking completely wrecked to only slightly mussed. You’re sure that’s intentional, too. She applies a rich color to your lip, perfect for your skin tone.

Steve brings over one more item from the bag, a full-length cloak to match the chemise, and drapes it over your shoulders. He carefully ties it at the neck. Natasha then retrieves the flower crown made of Luna's Tears and places it on your head, making sure it sits just right.

You stand between Steve and Natasha, their reflections flanking yours in the mirror. The midnight blue cloak drapes to the floor, adding an air of mystery and elegance. The flower crown rests delicately on your head, the iridescent blue petals seeming to glow in the soft light of the room.

"Beautiful," Natasha murmurs, her hand resting on your lower back.

Steve nods in agreement, his blue eyes intense as they meet yours in the mirror. "Perfect," he adds, his deep voice sending a thrill down your spine.

You barely recognize yourself in the reflection. The woman staring back at you looks ethereal, alluring, and undeniably primed for something momentous. Your skin seems to glow, your eyes bright and intense. The contrast between your polished appearance and the aching, unfulfilled desire still thrumming through your body is stark.

Steve’s hand trails down your arm, sending goosebumps across your skin. "It's time," he says softly.

Natasha nods, moving to open the door. "We'll escort you to the ritual site."

Your heart races as you follow them out of the room and down the hallway. The sounds of the party below have faded, replaced by an eerie quiet. As you descend the grand staircase, you notice the mansion seems deserted.

They lead you through the back of the house and out onto the grounds, and you can hear the music and voices of the party again. The full moon hangs low and heavy in the sky, bathing everything in silvery light. The air is thick with the scent of night-blooming flowers and something else - something heady and primal that makes your pulse quicken.

You walk in silence, but the party sounds grow as you progress. This path is nearly the same one you took in the daylight with Natasha, though that tour seems laughably long ago.

Steve and Natasha are holding hands as they walk ahead of you, and it’s so easy and natural between them it’s clear that it’s nothing new. They had given no hint of intimate involvement during the day, but it doesn’t surprise you now, given the time spent with them in your room. You’re not surprised but impressed by their professionalism and intrigued by what kind of relationship they have. But you will ask questions later. Sometimes you get chatty and ramble when your nervous, other times you grow quiet. In this case, it’s the latter, nerves mounting the closer you get to the gathering.

As you approach the event, the soft glow of lanterns illuminates the scene. The party is set in the garden the borders the hedge maze. Dozens and dozens of strings of twinkling lights are woven across the garden, creating a magical canopy overhead. The music, a haunting melody played by a double string quartet, seems to pulse in time with your heartbeat.

The three of you enter the clearing and a few heads turn in your direction. You feel their eyes on you, appraising and curious. There are soft murmurs and appreciative glances, but for the most part, the party continues uninterrupted. Your arrival was expected, anticipated.

Steve and Natasha lead you through the clusters of guests. The guests are an eclectic mix of people, all dressed in various shades of midnight blue and black. To your left, a group of women in flowing gowns adorned with constellations of sparkling crystals sway to the music, their movements fluid and hypnotic. Their faces are painted with swirling patterns of silver and gold that catch the moonlight, making them look otherworldly.

On your right, a man in an elaborate mask shaped like a raven's head is engaged in an animated conversation with a woman whose dress seems to be made entirely of peacock feathers. The feathers rustle softly as she moves, creating an illusion of constant motion.

You pass by a table laden with exotic fruits and delicacies. Your eyes dart from face to face, searching for the one you've yet to meet - James Barnes, the enigmatic founder. But he's nowhere to be seen among this gathering.

As you weave through the crowd, Steve's posture suddenly light shifts, more purposeful as he’s spotted whoever he was looking for. He guides you and Natasha towards a towering figure standing near the edge of the gathering. When you draw close enough, you realize it's Thor, the Nordic god of thunder himself. His golden hair is pulled back in intricate braids, and he's dressed in a midnight blue suit that seems to shimmer with an otherworldly energy. A cape of deep crimson drapes over one shoulder, the only red among those gathered.

Steve and Thor clasp forearms in greeting, their smiles warm and familiar. "Steven," Thor declares, his voice rich and resonant. "It's good to see you."

Thor's piercing blue eyes then land on you, and his smile widens. "Ah, and this must be the elim. I’ve been hearing the whispers from the others about you.”

You feel a flutter of nerves at Thor's words. The term "elim" is unfamiliar, but the way he says it makes it clear it refers to you and your role in tonight's events.

Natasha's hand rests reassuringly on your lower back as she addresses Thor. "Yes, this is her. We've been preparing her for the ritual."

Thor's gaze is intense as he looks you over, but there's also a warmth in his blue eyes that puts you slightly at ease. He takes your hand in his massive one, bowing slightly to brush his lips against your knuckles. "It is an honor to meet you, little one. You have been chosen for a great purpose."

Even though you’re unsure of that, you somehow manage a small smile, heart in your throat, your voice barely above a whisper as you reply, "Thank you."

You feel warmth creep up your cheeks as Thor's intense appraisal continues. His eyes linger on the flower crown adorning your head, and his smile deepens.

"The Luna's Tears suit you well," he says, his voice warm and approving. "They only shimmer for those who are worthy."

"Thor, we're honored you could join us tonight," Natasha says, her tone respectful but familiar.

Thor inclines his head slightly. "I wouldn't miss it. It's been far too long since I've attended one of James' rituals." His eyes twinkle with mischief as he adds, "And I must say, he's outdone himself this time."

You swallow hard, unsure if you should feel flattered or terrified by his words.

Thor finally releases your hand and looks between Steve and Natasha. "Is everything ready?" he asks.

Steve looks toward the entrance of the hedge maze and apparently finds what he’s looking for because he answers, “Yes. Let’s go.”

Thor pulls out a silver knife with a gleaming golden handle set with rubies and uses it to clink the glass in his hands, calling for everyone’s attention. A hush immediately falls over the gathering. The music fades away, replaced by an expectant silence. You feel the energy in the air shift, becoming charged with anticipation.

A sudden gust of wind whips through the grounds, causing the trees to rustle.

"The time has come," Thor announces.

Thor begins to stride toward the hedge maze. Your heart races as Steve and Natasha each take one of your arms, gently guiding you through the parting crowd.

As you move through the garden, you notice a path has formed, lined with guests holding glowing orbs of soft blue light. The orbs pulse gently, like heartbeats, casting an ethereal glow over the proceedings.

Once you reach the entrance to the maze, Thor stops and turns around, and the three of you stop as well.

“The full moon is nearing its ascent to its highest point. We now send the elim and her guardians through the labyrinth for ritual presentation, and all those who gather here are invited to follow in that procession to pay respect and witness the might and wonder of him who fell.”

You stiffen at his words, and Natasha’s eyes dart to your face, registering the resurgence of your reticence. Steve touches your arm, trying to calm you. Thor holds out an orb for your party.

Steve takes the glowing orb from Thor, its soft blue light illuminating his chiseled features. He nods to Natasha, and they gently guide you forward into the entrance of the maze. The hedges loom high on either side, their leaves rustling softly in the night breeze. The path before you is narrow, barely wide enough for the three of you to walk abreast.

As you take your first steps into the maze, you’re enveloped in a different kind of quiet, an eerie silence broken only by the soft crunch of gravel beneath your feet and the rustling of clothing as the three of you move. The scent of night-blooming jasmine and moonflowers wafts around you, intoxicatingly sweet.

The maze seems to come alive as you progress deeper. Fireflies dance among the hedges, their gentle glow adding to the otherworldly atmosphere. The maze twists and turns, each corner revealing new wonders as you move through it, the hedges rustling and whispering secrets you can't quite understand. You feel as though you're walking further and further from reality into a mystical space carved out of time. With each step, you feel a strange energy building, as if the very air is charged with anticipation.

It’s only when Steve and Natasha guide you around a corner only to be met with a wall of hedge that you realize their knowledge of the pathways is impressive since you had not hit any dead ends up until that moment.

And yet as they both stop and release your arms, you sense this is no mistake.

“We’ll wait here until the procession goes past,” Steve explains. “You enter the maze first, but you arrive at the ceremony last.”

“How are you feeling?” Natasha asks, studying your face in the faint luminescence from the orb as Steve pitches it on its spike into the ground.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. The question feels loaded, impossible to answer fully. Your emotions are a swirling tempest of fear, anticipation, lingering arousal, and something else you can't quite name.

"I'm... overwhelmed," you admit softly. "Everything feels surreal, like a dream I can't wake up from."

Natasha nods, her hand coming to rest on your cheek. "That's normal," she assures you. "The first time is always intense."

Steve steps closer, his presence both comforting and intimidating. "Remember," he says, his voice low and soothing, "you were chosen for a reason."

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. Their words calm you slightly, but your heart still races.

The sound of approaching footsteps and hushed voices reaches your ears. The procession is getting closer.

Natasha's hand moves to your neck, her thumb tracing soothing circles over your pulse point. "Breathe," she murmurs.

The approaching footsteps grow louder, and you can make out snippets of hushed conversation as the procession starts to pass by your hidden alcove. The soft glow of the orbs they carry casts dancing shadows on the hedge walls.

Steve steps closer and lifts your chin to look into his eyes. “Don’t focus on them.”

“She’s getting worked up,” Natasha says, a frown on her face.

It only jars you further. “What am I supposed to focus on?” you hiss.

Steve's eyes lock with yours, intense and unwavering. "Focus on us," he says softly. "On what we did. How we made you feel."

Natasha's hand slides down your neck to your collarbone, her touch feather-light. "Remember how it felt when we touched you," she murmurs, her lips brushing your ear. "How your body responded to us."

Their words and touches send a shiver through you, reigniting the embers of arousal that had been smoldering since your time in the bedroom. Steve's hand cups your face, his thumb tracing your bottom lip. Natasha's fingers dance along your clavicle then dip beneath the neckline of your chemise.

"That's it," Steve encourages as your breathing quickens. "Let yourself feel it again."

Natasha's free hand slides down your side, coming to rest on your hip. She squeezes gently, the pressure grounding and thrilling you. Steve kisses you for a brief moment, and your eyes slip closed. His tongue teases the seam of your lips, and you open for him. He licks into your mouth and draws a moan from you, but then he’s turning your chin and Natasha’s lips take over, continuing the kiss.

The sounds of the procession begin to fade into the background as you lose yourself in the sensations Steve and Natasha are creating. Their hands roam your body, reawakening the desire they had stoked earlier. Natasha's lips move from your mouth to your neck, nipping and sucking at your pulse point. Steve's large hand cups your breast through the thin fabric of your chemise, his thumb brushing over your nipple.

You gasp, arching into their touches. The fear and anxiety that had been building dissipates, replaced by a heady mix of arousal and anticipation. Your body thrums with renewed need, the ache between your thighs intensifying.

"That's it," Steve murmurs, his voice low and husky.

Natasha's hand slips beneath the high slit of your dress, her fingers tracing teasing patterns on your inner thigh. You shiver at her touch, your breath coming in short gasps.

Steve's lips replace Natasha's on your neck, his beard scraping deliciously against your sensitive skin. His hand moves from your breast to your lower back, pulling you flush against him. You can feel his arousal pressing against your hip, and it sends a jolt of heat straight to your core.

"Remember how it felt when we opened you up," Natasha whispers, her fingers inching higher. "How desperate you were for more."

You whimper softly, your hips rocking involuntarily, seeking friction. Steve's hand slides down to cup your ass, squeezing firmly.

"Just like that," he encourages. "Let yourself want it. Crave it.”

Then he’s withdrawing and Natasha moves in, pressing deliciously into you, cupping your face in her hands, and re-capturing your lips in fiery kisses.

The thin silks of your chemise and her dress leave very little barrier between your chests, and the way your breasts press together is tantalizing, and you clutch at her shoulders.

When she throws her head back and groans, breaking off your kiss, your eyes flutter open slowly at first, then widen as you register why she’s had such a strong reaction.

Natasha's moan of pleasure rings in the small alcove as Steve presses up behind her, his large hands gripping her hips. You watch, transfixed, as Steve slowly pushes into her from behind, his muscular body caging both of you against the hedge. Natasha's silk dress is bunched around her waist, leaving her lower half exposed.

Steve's eyes lock with yours over Natasha's shoulder, dark with desire. He begins to move, his hips rolling in a slow, deliberate rhythm. Each thrust pushes Natasha further against you, her breasts pressing into yours through the thin fabric of your chemise and her dress.

Natasha's hands move down to clutch at your hips, her nails digging in slightly as she braces herself. Her breath comes in short, sharp gasps against your neck. You can feel the vibrations of her soft moans against your belly. Then Steve’s hands join hers on your hips, and they’re both holding you while he fucks her, the grinding and friction maddening.

Your body thrums with renewed arousal as you watch Steve and Natasha, feeling the echoes of their pleasure through their shared contact with you.

Natasha's lips find yours again, her kiss hungry and demanding. You taste her soft moans as Steve's thrusts grow more forceful. His large hands grip your hips tighter, pulling you closer, sandwiching Natasha between your bodies.

"Please," you whimper against Natasha's mouth, unclear yourself of what would truly satisfy you. Release? To join them fully? For this exquisite torture to never end?

Steve's deep chuckle sends shivers down your spine. "Not yet," he growls, his voice rough with exertion.

Natasha’s lips leave yours abruptly, but it’s clearly to keep control as Steve continues fucking her, curling her head into the crook of your neck, panting and moaning as Steve picks up the tempo of his thrusts.

Once she seems to harness the moment again, her lips trail along your jaw to your ear. "Remember how it felt when Steve's fingers were inside you," she whispers, her breath hot against your skin. "How full you were, how desperately you wanted more."

You whimper at her words, fingers curling against the two lovers in front of you.

“You want to be filled, don’t you?” she taunts, and you gasp as her fingers slip inside you.

Her head is still nestled against your neck, her hot breath tickling your skin.

“You want to explode with pleasure,” she continues, her voice husky and raw with desire.

You nod eagerly, craving any kind of relief.

Her fingers slip inside your slick channel and don’t thrust, but she curls them against the spot at the front of your walls that makes you keen, stroking in time with Steve’s thrusts. Steve has hands on both of you now, one on Natasha’s hip as he continues to fuck her from behind, the other on your waist as he guides you impossibly closer.

“How wet is she?” he asks Natasha, though his eyes are locked on yours.

“She’s dripping and desperate,” she murmurs against your neck, then presses an open-mouthed kiss there.

Your eyes flutter closed, and you can only clutch at Natasha’s waist, at Steve’s forearm, legs unsteady, as the elements - their words, her fingers, his grip, the forceful rocking of her body against yours, her lips, his eyes on you - pitch you higher and higher.

“You’re ready to experience the satisfaction of becoming one with a mate, aren’t you?” she whispers.

You stop breathing at those words.

Mate?

They’ve said nothing about mates.

Your eyes tear up at the assertion, and you stiffen, heart constricting.

But instantly Natasha throws her head back in a silent scream, shuddering in the ecstasy of her orgasm. It’s good that you aren’t expected to move, because you can’t, still reeling from her last statement. But you’re not wholly unaffected as you watch her come apart for Steve. He holds her hips with both hands now and ruts furiously into her, biting against her shoulder as he cums with a groan. You swear they seem to glow in their orgasmic state, but your own sight is tinged with so much desperate haze, you’re sure it’s only a trick of the moonlight.

They indulge for another moment in the wake of each other, but then they are quick to recompose themselves, Natasha withdrawing her fingers from your cunt, Steve thumbing away a tear from your cheek that you didn’t know had escaped.

As Steve and Natasha readjust their clothing, you stand there trembling, overwhelmed by what you've just witnessed and experienced. Your body still thrums with unfulfilled desire as your mind races with questions and uncertainties.

Natasha notices your trembling even before you do. She reaches out, her hand gently cupping your cheek. "Shh, it's alright," she soothes, her thumb brushing away another tear.

Steve steps closer, his large hand coming to rest on your lower back. "The wait is over," he says softly, his deep voice rumbling through you. "It's time."

Steve retrieves the delicate glass orb, and then they guide you forward, out of the alcove and back onto the main path of the maze. Steve and Natasha flank you on either side, their presence the one constant in all of this, though it’s been both comforting and disconcerting. The air feels different now, charged with an energy that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. The scent of night-blooming flowers is ever-present. Your heart races as you take in the subtle changes around you. The hedges seem taller, more imposing. The path stretches before you, lit by the soft glow of scattered orbs.

The sound of humming grows with each step that brings you closer. As you round the final corner of the maze, a clearing comes into view. The space is circular, enclosed by towering hedges that seem to reach towards the starry sky. In the center stands a large stone altar, bathed in moonlight.

Surrounding the altar are dozens of people, all dressed in shades of midnight blue and black. They form a tight circle, standing shoulder to shoulder, all their faces now hidden behind ornate masks.

Your heart races as Steve and Natasha guide you towards the altar. With each step, the inevitability of what’s coming presses in around you, though you still have so little of the scope of what to expect. All eyes are on you.

NEXT PART: OFFERING

Well... I told you there was a little more than just smut this chapter, but *wipes brow* I don't know about you, but I'm a bit 🥴 after the way Steve and Natasha just

well

yeah

*takes a cold shower*

SEE YOU NEXT CHAPTER!

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

[alibasnur]

My Friend's Widow

Pair: Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Words: 700-ish

Warning: Written in Sebastian's POV, angst, mention of sexual act, major character's death

Author's note: This has been sitting in my draft and i impulsively decided to post it before going to bed

“Today, I brought in some flowers for my friend’s widow. I cut them a little messier, just like how her blind husband used to do when he was alive. 

It was always both of them in that little house as the couple had no child. I remember how she used to tell me that she wanted several of them. But her husband despised the idea of having any at all. She must have loved him so much that she had a change of heart.

 

I wished she had given me the same mercy back then. She used to be my betrothed before she was my friend’s wife. I loved her and I treasured her in the best way that a foolish boy could do. I made a grave mistake of falling back into a deed that I had promised her not to step in, which also caused me and my friend to have a falling out.

Two years after that, I received the news about their marriage. I had never seen a bride so beautiful that it hurt me. A precious, blushing bride laughing in his husband’s arm. So beautiful, but she wasn’t mine.

It grew unbearable to simply look her in the eyes. I didn't stay much longer, just a simple congratulations and then I set off.

But I was glad. My heart sank so much that I didn’t have the strength to pick up a wand and set that wedding arch on fire. At least I didn’t make that mistake anymore. 

I knew what I’m capable of in my worst temper. But that time, I didn’t want to be the reason for her to cry. I wanted to be good for her. No matter how much I’m aching and suffering for it. 

I could be Merlin had she asked for it. But no, she wanted him instead.

I got struck by a high fever and in my sleep, I called for her name. A few days later, I picked myself up, forced myself some stale pieces of bread and water and I didn’t know why and what for.

Sometimes, It still terrified me to see her in the finest witches I came across. It was a bitter reminder that somehow I still belonged to her. She could live a life without me and I would be the one trying to numb myself from the hurtful thought of what things could’ve been.

At one point, a few years later, I could open the drawer and see the ring that she had so coldly returned with only a little sentiment. I thought that I had made up my mind. I thought that I could listen to someone speak of her, and feel no sting.

But as soon as the news of my friend’s passing was at my door, I came as quickly as a gust of wind. I found her, looking at me behind her mourning veil. Her arms reached out to me, and as I held her, I could feel every single wall I had built shatter. She said that she needed me to stay. So I stayed. 

She would call for me on her loneliest nights, I warmed her bed when it felt cold and empty, and I’ll do it gladly. After years of suffocating, I got to breathe her in. At this point, I would take anything. Her lips, her loving gaze, her skin that I could caress, even though she would call for her late husband’s name as I drove her to the peak. It felt like a stab through the chest, but I said nothing. The heartache that she inflicted on me felt as if it redeemed me, that maybe, i would be deserving of her again.

I would wait so patiently, until she comes to love me again. If not soon, then the year after. I would try to read the look on her face, behind that black, sheer lace of a veil, searching for a sign, waiting for it in every word that ever came out of her lips.

So I counted days of the year, but as my heart started to grow weary, today, she put her mourning dress back into the wardrobe, and she stared at me so lovingly that I couldn’t be mistaken.”

[ms-snape]

snaddy x readere angst, maybe where the nex dada professor

Title: DADA

Warning: Angst

Words Count: 3000+

Masterlist

---

Y/N stood at the edge of the Great Hall, watching as the students filed in, their voices a steady hum of excitement for the start of the new term. The enchanted ceiling mirrored the cloudy sky outside, casting a soft, dim glow over the long rows of tables. She had been at Hogwarts for less than a week, and while the castle was as breathtaking as she'd remembered from her own school days, there was an undeniable tension simmering in her chest. This wasn’t how she imagined her first day as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor would be.

Y/N smoothed the front of her robes, forcing herself to take a deep breath. Teaching was something she had long dreamed of, the culmination of years of study and experience. She had spent so long preparing for this, but now that she was here, all she could think about was how wrong everything felt.

And then she saw him.

Severus Snape, dark and imposing, swept into the hall with his signature black cloak billowing behind him. His presence seemed to draw a line through the room, as students instinctively shifted their attention elsewhere. There was something about him that demanded authority without ever needing to speak a word. His eyes, black as coal, flicked toward her, and for a split second, their gazes locked.

Her stomach flipped.

She knew of Severus Snape, of course. Everyone in the wizarding world did. His reputation preceded him—brilliant, mysterious, and feared in equal measure. And though Y/N had spent only a few days at Hogwarts so far, she had already heard whispers from the staff about his resentment over her appointment. He had wanted the Defense Against the Dark Arts position for years, but once again, Dumbledore had passed him over. Instead, he had chosen her.

The thought made her feel uneasy. She had earned this position, hadn’t she? She had the qualifications, the passion. But it wasn’t lost on her that in taking this role, she had also taken something from him, something he had coveted for years.

“Y/L/N.”

The low voice snapped her out of her thoughts. Snape stood before her, his presence overwhelming. He was taller than she had imagined, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as they roamed over her. She felt a chill creep up her spine, the intensity of his gaze unnerving.

“Professor Snape,” she greeted, trying to sound confident, even though her heart was pounding. She extended her hand toward him, forcing a polite smile. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Snape stared at her hand for a long moment, as if it were something distasteful. He didn’t take it. Instead, he raised one eyebrow, his lips curling into something that was not quite a smile.

“I wasn’t aware that anyone would consider this position ‘nice,’” he drawled, his voice laced with a cruel edge.

Y/N’s smile faltered slightly, but she refused to let him rattle her. She dropped her hand, shifting her weight uneasily. “Well, I’m looking forward to it,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt. “I’ve always wanted to teach.”

Snape’s dark eyes flicked over her again, assessing. There was something almost predatory in his gaze, and Y/N had the sudden feeling that she was being weighed and found wanting.

“Ambition is a curious thing,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “It often blinds people to their own limitations.”

Her stomach twisted at the veiled insult, but before she could respond, he turned on his heel, his black cloak sweeping dramatically behind him as he walked away. Y/N stood there, frozen for a moment, her hand still hovering awkwardly at her side. The encounter left a bitter taste in her mouth.

This was going to be a lot harder than she had expected.

The first weeks of the semester passed in a blur of lesson planning, classroom management, and a never-ending stream of essays to grade. Y/N tried her best to settle into her role as a professor, but every time she thought she was making progress, Snape would find some way to tear her down.

His disdain for her was palpable, and it wasn’t just confined to their private interactions. He made it a point to undermine her in front of the other staff members during meetings, offering sharp, pointed criticisms of her teaching methods or her knowledge of defensive spells. It was as though he relished in watching her struggle, a cruel smirk tugging at his lips whenever he found an opportunity to belittle her.

“What were you thinking with that Shield Charm demonstration, Y/L/N?” he sneered one afternoon during a staff meeting. His voice carried through the room like a whip crack. “Do you think sending third-years into the Hospital Wing is part of the curriculum now?”

Y/N’s face flushed with embarrassment as several of the professors turned to look at her. Her Shield Charm lesson had gone a little off-track when one of the students had been too eager with their spell casting, causing a minor explosion that resulted in a few singed eyebrows. But she had managed the situation, hadn’t she?

“I… It was an accident,” Y/N stammered, trying to defend herself. “I handled it.”

“Handled it?” Snape’s voice was sharp, dripping with derision. “Perhaps next time, you might consider teaching them proper restraint, or at the very least, monitoring their incompetence more carefully.”

Dumbledore, seated at the head of the table, glanced between the two of them, his brow furrowing ever so slightly. But he said nothing, choosing instead to let the exchange run its course. Y/N bit her lip, resisting the urge to snap back at Snape. What good would it do? He would only twist her words against her, just like he always did.

“I’ll take your suggestion under advisement,” she replied through gritted teeth.

Snape smirked, clearly satisfied with her submission. The rest of the meeting passed uneventfully, but Y/N’s mind was spinning. His insults were becoming more personal with each passing day, and no matter how much she tried to ignore them, they ate away at her confidence. She began to dread their interactions, the knots in her stomach tightening every time she saw him enter a room.

She couldn’t understand it. Was this simply his bitterness over the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, or was there something else? Some unspoken hostility that went deeper than mere professional rivalry?

By the time the winter holidays approached, Y/N felt like a shadow of her former self. The bright enthusiasm she had brought with her at the start of the term had long since faded, replaced by a dull sense of dread that hung over her every day. Her students seemed to enjoy her classes, and for the most part, they were performing well. But nothing she did felt like it mattered when Snape was constantly tearing her down.

She had tried everything—keeping her head down, avoiding unnecessary interactions with him, even seeking advice from other staff members on how to deal with his unrelenting hostility. But no matter what she did, Snape’s cold cruelty persisted, an ever-present thorn in her side.

One evening, after a particularly brutal day in which Snape had publicly criticized her handling of a difficult fourth-year lesson, Y/N found herself sitting alone in her office, staring down at a blank piece of parchment. The weight of the past few months pressed heavily on her chest, and as she sat there in the dim candlelight, a thought that had been lingering in the back of her mind finally solidified into something tangible.

She was done. She couldn’t do this anymore.

With a heavy heart, she dipped her quill into ink and began writing her resignation letter.

The next morning, Y/N stood outside Dumbledore’s office, her hands trembling slightly as she clutched the folded letter in her grasp. The gargoyle guarding the entrance slid aside as she gave the password, and moments later, she found herself standing before the headmaster, who looked up from his desk with a gentle smile.

“Professor Y/L/N,” Dumbledore greeted warmly, motioning for her to take a seat. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Y/N hesitated for a moment before placing the letter on his desk. “I… I’ve come to resign, Headmaster,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Dumbledore’s expression softened as he reached for the letter, unfolding it slowly. He read the contents in silence, his sharp blue eyes scanning the page with a mixture of sadness and understanding.

“May I ask why?” he inquired gently, folding the letter back up and setting it down in front of him.

Y/N swallowed hard, avoiding his gaze. She had promised herself she wouldn’t mention Snape—she didn’t want to sound like she was running away because of him. But the truth was gnawing at her, making her feel small and powerless.

“I just… I don’t think teaching is for me,” she said, her voice hollow. “I thought it would be different, but I… I’m not cut out for this.”

Dumbledore watched her closely, his keen eyes piercing through her flimsy excuse. “Are you sure that’s the only reason?” he asked, his voice laced with quiet concern.

Y/N hesitated. She wanted to tell him everything—to lay bare the truth about how Snape had made her life miserable, how his constant belittling had drained every ounce of joy from the job she had once loved. But a part of her didn’t want to give Snape the satisfaction of knowing he had broken her.

“I just don’t enjoy it as much as I thought I would,” she said finally, her voice small.

Dumbledore was silent for a long moment , studying her with an intensity that made her feel exposed. Finally, he sighed, leaning back in his chair.

“Y/N, I can understand that teaching can be a challenging endeavor, especially here at Hogwarts,” he began thoughtfully. “But I must ask you to reconsider. You’re an excellent educator, and the students have greatly benefited from your knowledge and passion. If it’s merely a matter of adjustment, I would implore you to at least finish the academic year. I can’t deny that I’ve noticed some tension between you and Professor Snape.”

Y/N felt a flush of indignation rising within her. “It’s not just about him!” she snapped, the emotion spilling over before she could catch it. She took a breath, forcing herself to calm down. “I mean, I don’t like teaching anymore. The constant second-guessing and criticism have worn me down.”

Dumbledore nodded, his expression kind yet resolute. “That may be true, but I believe that you are more capable than you give yourself credit for. In the meantime, I will speak with Severus about his treatment of you, as it’s evident that it has had an impact.”

Her heart sank at the thought. The last thing she wanted was to be the subject of more scrutiny or gossip among the faculty. She appreciated Dumbledore’s intentions, but it felt like he was missing the point entirely.

“Headmaster,” Y/N began, her voice wavering slightly, “I’d really rather not make a scene. I just want to leave quietly.”

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled with understanding. “As you wish, Y/N. But do take some time to think it over. Sometimes, when we’re under pressure, our perspective can become clouded. I would hate to see you make a decision that you might regret later.”

Y/N nodded slowly, knowing he meant well but feeling cornered by his gentle insistence.

“Very well,” she murmured, standing to leave. “I’ll consider it.”

The rest of the day was a blur. Y/N moved through her classes in a daze, answering questions but barely retaining focus on her students. She could feel the weight of Dumbledore’s words pressing on her shoulders, mingling with her sense of dread about Snape.

Later that evening, as she entered the staff room to prepare for her next lesson, she noticed Snape was already there, his back turned to her as he meticulously arranged potion ingredients on the table. The sight of him sent a rush of anxiety through her, and she hesitated in the doorway.

“Professor Y/L/N,” Snape’s voice cut through the silence, low and disdainful without looking at her. “You do realize that the ingredients are supposed to be measured, not simply dumped haphazardly into the cauldron?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, trying to ignore the anger bubbling inside her. “I’m not in your Potions class, Severus,” she replied evenly, crossing the room. “I’m here to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, not to take lessons in potion-making from you.”

He turned to face her, his dark eyes narrowing in irritation. “Perhaps if you focused on the subject you’re actually teaching instead of taking cues from everyone else, you wouldn’t find yourself struggling so much,” he snapped, his tone harsher than necessary.

For a moment, Y/N’s anger flared, igniting a fierce response inside her. “You don’t know anything about my classes, Severus,” she shot back, her voice rising. “You don’t have to be so cruel! I’m trying my best here!”

His expression shifted slightly, something unreadable flickering across his features before he returned to his impassive demeanor. “Your best is evidently not enough,” he replied coldly.

The words cut deeper than she anticipated, and the lump in her throat grew as she fought back tears. How had they come to this? She had started this journey filled with hope, but now, she felt completely defeated.

“I don’t need to listen to you anymore,” she declared, feeling the tremor of emotion in her voice. “I’m resigning, Severus. You’ve made it clear that I don’t belong here.”

As the words left her mouth, the silence in the room became suffocating. Snape’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, Y/N thought she saw something shift in his expression—confusion, perhaps? Regret?

“You’re serious,” he said slowly, his voice devoid of its usual bite. “You really intend to quit?”

“I can’t take this anymore. I’m tired of your constant insults. I thought this job would be fulfilling, but you’ve turned it into a nightmare.”

Snape opened his mouth, hesitating as if to say something, but then closed it again, his expression darkening. “You think I enjoy this?” he asked, his voice suddenly softer, almost incredulous. “You believe this is personal?”

“What else could it be?” Y/N shot back, her emotions bubbling over. “You’re just cruel for the sake of it!”

His expression shifted again, something vulnerable flashing in his dark eyes before he turned away. “You’re wrong, Y/N,” he murmured, almost to himself.

She blinked, caught off guard by the shift in his tone. “What do you mean?”

Snape turned to face her again, his gaze intense. “You believe I’m merely tormenting you because I’m spiteful. But this isn’t about you. It never was.”

“Then what is it about?” she pressed, her heart racing as his words hung in the air.

“It’s about me.” He stepped closer, the distance between them shrinking. “I was angry when you arrived, angry that Dumbledore chose you over me. And instead of addressing it, I channeled that anger into something I thought would make me feel better.”

Y/N’s heart raced at the revelation. “You think pushing me down will make you feel better?”

“Perhaps it was a misguided way of coping,” he admitted, his voice dropping to a low whisper. “But the truth is that I… I’ve felt something else when I’m near you. Something I’ve fought against. And in my attempts to push it away, I became cruel.”

The confession hung heavy between them, and for the first time, she saw him—really saw him. Behind the bitterness and disdain, there was a flicker of vulnerability. She was taken aback, her resolve faltering as she processed his words.

“You don’t have to do this,” she said softly. “You don’t have to keep pushing me away.”

He held her gaze, something softening in his expression as he stepped even closer, closing the distance until they were mere inches apart. “I don’t know how to be anything else. It’s easier to lash out than to confront what I truly feel.”

Y/N’s heart raced, and the anger she had clung to began to unravel. “And what do you feel?”

The air between them crackled with tension, an electric charge that sent shivers down her spine. Snape looked at her, his dark eyes searching hers as if trying to decipher something within her.

“I feel drawn to you,” he confessed, his voice low and raw. “I didn’t want to admit it, but it’s true. I pushed you away because I didn’t understand it.”

“Severus…” she whispered, caught between confusion and a flicker of hope.

Before she could say more, Snape reached for her, his fingers brushing against her cheek, a gentle yet tentative touch. The world around them faded away, the distance that had felt insurmountable only moments ago dissipating into a shared understanding.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “For everything.”

And in that moment, she knew he meant it. The warmth of his palm against her skin ignited something inside her—an unfamiliar feeling that made her heart race.

She closed her eyes, surrendering to the pull between them, and leaned in, their lips meeting in a tentative kiss that quickly grew deeper. It was a kiss filled with all the unspoken words, the frustration, the longing, and the undeniable connection that had been building between them all along.

As they kissed, the rest of the world fell away, and for the first time in months, Y/N felt free. Free from the weight of expectations, free from the bitterness that had clouded her heart.

When they finally pulled apart, both breathless, Snape’s expression was softer than she had ever seen it. “Can we start over?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N smiled, warmth flooding her heart as she nodded. “I’d like that.”

As the year progressed, the transformation between them became evident. Snape was no longer her adversary; instead, he became an ally in the classroom, offering her support rather than criticism. Their conversations shifted from hostile exchanges to something more meaningful, filled with laughter and a deeper understanding of one another.

They spent late nights in the staff room, discussing spells and strategies while sharing their hopes and fears. Snape revealed glimpses of his past, and Y/N found herself opening up about her own experiences, their bond growing stronger with each passing day.

The change in their relationship did not go unnoticed by the other staff members. Dumbledore observed them with a knowing smile, pleased that the tension had lifted, replaced by a genuine camaraderie that breathed new life into the atmosphere at Hogwarts.

By the time the end of the semester rolled around, Y/N was no longer considering resigning. Instead, she found herself excited about teaching and learning alongside Snape. The darkness that had clouded her spirit for so long had finally lifted, and in its place was something entirely new—hope.

On the last day of classes before the holiday break, Y/N stood before her students, a smile on her face as she wrapped up the lesson. “And remember, practice makes perfect. Keep working on your defensive spells over the break!”

The students filed out of the classroom, laughter and chatter echoing in the hallways. As the last student left, she turned to see Snape leaning against the doorframe, his expression softer than it had been at their first meeting.

“Are you ready to leave for the holidays?” he asked, a hint of warmth in his voice.

Y/N nodded, feeling a surge of joy at the thought of spending time with him. “I can’t wait.”

As they stepped out into the corridor, she felt a sense of peace wash over her. For the first time, Hogwarts felt like home, and she knew she had found a place for herself here, not just as a teacher but as someone who belonged.

And in that moment, as she walked beside Severus Snape, she realized that sometimes, love could blossom in the most unexpected places, even in the shadows of the past.

[duskandcobalt]

Stargirl: Part Four

Following her last vision, Elain and Azriel navigate the surprise revelation and the frenzy that comes along with it.

...

Well, well, well... my smutty little darling that was only ever supposed to be one part comes to an end. This last part was intended to be just a little dirty short thing but somehow it turned into a 6k word monster soooo???? idk i had fun writing this, I hope you have fun reading it and I'm so thrilled I could get this out just in time for the last day of @sjmromanceweek 💕💗💞

this can be read as a stand alone but if you'd like to see how elain's sexy little visions came to be, you can find the first part of stargirl here as well as all the other parts in my masterlist xx

18+ please, gratuitous smut and a little bit of breeding kink as a valentine's day treat 💌👀♥️

ENJOY XX

Read on AO3

Elain runs a trembling hand down the front of her dress as she takes a deep breath. 

She’s wearing a beautiful ivory gown made of delicate lace that’s almost sheer. Only heavy clusters of floral embroidery cover her from the top of the bodice down to the middle of her thighs where it tapers off before picking up again to form a stunning train that trails dramatically  behind her.  The dress has long sleeves, also covered in embroidery, but her shoulders and decolletage are left bare - an intentional design choice that she and her seamstress had made with a certain someone in mind. 

A veil is ever so carefully placed into the crown of Elain’s intricately woven hair by the practiced hands of the twins when a soft knock sounds from the bedroom door, interrupting the mindless chatter she’d been exchanging with Nuala and Cerridwen.

She catches sight of the male in the reflection of her mirror. His tall, lean frame occupies almost the entire doorway. He’s dressed in an immaculately tailored suit and a small dusk coloured rose is pinned to the lapel of his jacket. His violet eyes soften as they meet hers and the very corners of his lips turn up into a fond smile.

“He’s not going to know what to do with himself when he sees you.” Rhysand says quietly. “You make for a beautiful bride, Elain.” 

Elain ducks her head in thanks. The warmth of a blush creeps up her neck and blooms across her cheeks as the nerves that she’s been trying to keep at bay all morning finally settle low in her stomach at her brother-in-law’s sincere compliment and at the reminder of the male waiting for her in the garden.

She couldn’t believe that this was actually happening. Couldn’t believe that she was about to walk down the aisle to her mate. 

…

It had been two years since she’d had that vision that had hinted at a truth she hadn’t been prepared to receive. A vision that had shown her this day - a mating ceremony to a dark haired Shadowsinger instead of the son of Autumn as the Cauldron had once suggested. 

That single vision had come out of nowhere and thrown her entire life into a spiral. 

She’d never forget sitting up in his bed, turning towards him and whispering those words that had turned their entire world upside down. 

You’re my mate.

Azriel had only stared at her, still as a statue, as she fumbled over her words in a desperate attempt to explain to him exactly what she’d seen. 

The offering of cake. A black ribbon binding her wrist to his. 

He’d broken down moments later after finally finding his voice and asking her a few carefully curated questions to understand exactly what she’d seen. He’d clutched her tight to his chest as tears trickled from his eyes and into her hair. She’d never seen him like that before but she understood immediately that the overwhelming feeling that coursed through him was relief. 

Relief from the knowledge that he hadn’t been forgotten by the Mother or the Cauldron. From knowing that he hadn’t been deemed unworthy of a mate because of all the blood he’d drawn over the centuries.

They’d gone to Feyre first, clumsily explaining what Elain had seen only to realise they would also need to confess to already having been spending time together. They told Rhys next and though it was perhaps naive of them, neither she nor Azriel had expected that the High Lord  would react so poorly to the news.

For all the times that Elain had wished she could be with Azriel without needing to hide from the others, opening themselves up to the wrath of Rhysand for daring to mess with intercourt politics had resulted in a world of pain. He’d torn into Azriel for even thinking of pursuing a mated female, let alone a female mated to an Autumn Court male. For daring to bed her while her mate slept in the same house. 

At the time, it had seemed that no matter how many times Elain tried to make it clear that the bond in question wasn’t even a real bond - that she had pursued Azriel just as much as he’d pursued her, that they’d never risked sleeping together when Lucien was in residence -  her pleas fell on deaf ears. Rhys had stormed out of his office without sparing her a glance, only giving a stern warning to Azriel to stay the hell away from her.

They hadn’t stayed away from each other, of course. They’d simply resumed what they’d already been doing - sneaking in and out of each other’s rooms in the dead of night and only barely avoiding each other during the days. 

There had been countless tears and numerous arguments. An entire war had almost been waged over their claim that the Cauldron had been wrong. Iit had taken almost an entire year of working with various High Lords, priestesses, and other contacts and associates of Rhysand to confirm that something had indeed gone wrong when Elain was submerged in the Cauldron - that a spell had been cast in an attempt to hide her bond to Azriel and guide her in another direction. 

It had been confusing and messy and terrible for everyone involved but they had somehow come out on the other end, still together and still hopelessly in love. Now, there was a brand new element to their relationship. A bright, glowing tether that connected their bodies, their souls - already so tangible despite the fact that neither of them had formally accepted the bond. 

Azriel, usually so reserved and attention avoidant, had surprised her when he insisted on even having a ceremony. She’d had to talk him out of going down the same path as Nesta and Cassian and after going back and forth too many times to count, Elain had eventually relented and they’d compromised on having the small garden ceremony that had come to her in that vision. 

The title of mates had never meant much to her. She’d have chosen him a million times over where there’d been a predetermined connection between them or not. But she knew how much it meant to Azriel, knew that he considered the bond to be a blessing unlike any other. 

It was why she attempted to look past the, quite frankly, insane behavior he’d been exhibiting over the past few months. Azriel had turned into something reminiscent of the girls that Elain had grown up with. The ones that became obsessive over their nuptials the second a ring was placed on their finger. 

Just because she’d given in to his desire to have a ceremony, it didn’t mean that she hadn’t enjoyed torturing him from time to time when he was difficult about place settings or flowers. 

“Never should��ve told you about that stupid vision,” Elain would taunt him, if only to feel the delicious trickle of arousal slither down her spine at the way his shoulders would stiffen and the promise of punishment would spark in his eyes. 

Not that he’d ever actually deliver on that promise. 

It was the one true point of contention between them. The stubborn male was intent on not formally accepting the bond before the ceremony and would hardly touch her, let alone fuck her, for fear of accidentally solidifying the bond between them before they could have it blessed by a priestess. And though she tried, there was no amount of teasing and taunting she could do that would get him to break. 

He even went as far as to refuse food made by her whether she handed it directly to him or not. 

It was ridiculous. He was ridiculous.

Azriel had made up for some of it though, meeting her halfway by insisting on incorporating certain aspects of a human wedding - starting with a proposal that had come as a complete surprise a few weeks before they’d broken the curse.

They’d been in the garden one evening, Azriel more quiet than usual as he studied her from over the brim of a chipped tea cup that appeared like a dollhouse toy in the grasp of his large hands. She’d only looked up from her notebook when he gently lifted her feet from his lap and shifted until he was on his knees in the grass beside her. 

He had said her name so softly, his eyes gleaming with an unfamiliar quality that they’d later identified as nervousness when they laughed together in bed later, recounting the moment while Elain lifted her hand above their faces until the low fae lights caught the surface of the sparkling sapphire that newly graced her ring finger. 

…

That sapphire gleams brighter than ever on her finger as Rhysand steps towards her and offers her his arm.

“Ready?”

He’d come to them after they’d announced their intention to have a ceremony and asked if he could walk Elain down the aisle - a sign of peace and a way of offering them his blessing. Something that she knew meant the world to Azriel after the tense year he and Rhys had had. 

“Ready.” Elain swallows, slipping her arm through the crook of his elbow.

Apart from Rhys walking her down the aisle, most of what she’d seen in that vision remains the same. A harp plays as Rhys leads her out to the garden. Bright blooms of flowers are arranged on either side of a makeshift aisle. The sun shines and the Sidra glitters behind them. Nesta and Feyre smile brightly, tears gathering in the corner of their eyes. Cassian gives her a bright smile before clasping the broad shoulder of the handsome male standing next to him.

Elain’s breath catches in her chest when Azriel turns and his eyes land on her. She tries to keep from crying but there’s little she can do to stop the tears from falling when Azriel gives her a smile unlike anything she’d ever seen before, his own eyes shining with tears and admiration for his bride.

The sight of Azriel in his leathers was something Elain often dreamed of when she lay in bed at night, but it only takes one slow pass of her eyes over his body before she realises that the only thing better than Azriel in his leathers, is Azriel in a suit. 

The suit is perfectly cut to his body and is befitting of a royal prince - the sash draped across his body, the medallions pinned to his chest - she realises that in a way, he really is dressed the part of a high ranking member of the Night Court and something about seeing him proudly dressed like this for her, makes her heart swell.

It feels like an eternity before she stands in front of him, before Rhys kisses her cheek and gives Azriel a hug. Before Azriel’s wonderfully familiar hands clasp around hers. 

“Beautiful.” He gives her fingers a gentle squeeze as his eyes roam over her dress - the delicate lace that frames her exposed neck and shoulders. The embroidery that conceals the part of her that only he would ever see. He doesn’t bother to conceal his satisfied hum of approval as his gaze tracks back up the length of her body to her face.

The priestess takes over then, welcoming all their guests and guiding them through a short ceremony that culminates in an exchange of vows that leaves both of them with happy smiles and tear streaked faces.

They exchange rings after their vows - an homage to Elain’s  human heritage but also something she’d quietly insisted on because the possessive part of her wanted him to have a physical marker that made it clear that he was taken to any female or male that dared to set their eyes on him.

Before she knows it, Nyx is teetering over to them, a small plate that holds one cinnamon bun haphazardly cradled in his small, chubby hands.

It’s the final point of difference from her vision - a small change she’d intentionally made to incorporate Azriel’s favourite of her homemade treats into their day. A nod to the day this had all started that only the two of them would understand.

She bends down and kisses Nyx on the forehead, gingerly taking the bun in her fingers before standing and bringing it to Azriel’s lips. 

“Eat.” Elain murmurs.

Azriel’s lips close around the soft bun, teeth sinking into the sweet pastry. He swallows and Elain swears she feels the bond between them intensify. Unlike the uncomfortable pull she’d felt once upon a time, this is different. This time it’s desire and admiration and pure love that she feels when it tightens around her ribs.

By the way Azriel is looking at her, she knows he feels the same. 

The ribbon is the next and final part of the ceremony. Feyre and Nesta both step forward to wrap a length of black satin around the couple’s wrists - sheepish looks on both of her sister’s faces. Rhysand and Cassian take over from their mates- tightening the ribbon and tying it into a firm bow. 

“Remember, Az,” Cassian's eyes shine with mischief. “This stays on until you make her come hard enough to cause an avalanche on Ramiel.” 

“Cassian!” Nesta groans, pinching the bridge of her nose, at the same exact time Feyre clasps her hands tight over Nyx’s ears even as she and Rhysand fail  to stifle their laugh.

…

They don’t last long after the ceremony. It’s only a couple of turns around the small dancefloor and a few congratulatory conversations before the pull between them becomes too much to bear and Azriel bends down, his lips brushing over the delicate point of her ear as he quietly asks if she’s ready to leave.

He laughs at the eagerness with which Elain responds but she can’t bring herself to be embarrassed - not when she’d felt the absence of his touch so thoroughly for over a month now. 

She needed to be alone with him. Needed to get away before the desire got the best of them and put them at risk of doing something obscenely stupid like consummating their bond in the middle of this garden, in front of everyone they held close to their hearts.

After a very quick goodbye to their amused guests, Azriel whisks Elain into his arms and flies directly to the townhouse that Rhys had gifted them as a mating present, grumbling that they may as well have it seeing as they’d already spent the last year or two desecrating every part of it. 

No words are exchanged as Azriel lands, still cradling Elain in his arms as he wanders up the path and opens the door, carrying her over the threshold once more. 

It was funny really, when she looks back at how far they’d come since that very first time Azriel had flown her here, to this place they could now call home.

She’d been a shell of herself back then, clutching to her human life with a desperation that had almost broken her completely. Despite it all, she’d felt a split second moment of reprieve from the intensity of her grief when Azriel, little more than a stranger to her at the time, carried her over the threshold and set her down with such care before he led her out to the one place he somehow knew she might find some sense of normalcy.

 She’d felt it then - upon seeing the kindness in his eyes and feeling the gentleness of his touch - the tiniest inkling of hope that maybe one day she could find happiness in this new place, in this new life.

Sure enough, that little drop of hope had been warranted because just a few years later, Elain is the happiest she’s ever been. 

The signs had all been there from the start. 

That single strand of hair that had snagged right over his heart should’ve told her all she needed to know. 

He carries her upstairs, toeing open the door to the bedroom that once belonged solely to her and Elain’s jaw drops as Azriel finally sets her down and she peels her eyes away from his perfect face to take in the room. 

She knew that Feyre and Mor had come by earlier to decorate but she didn’t expect all of this. Her usual lilac linens have been replaced by billowing white sheets. There’s blush coloured rose petals strewn across the bed that match the roses that had framed the aisle and candles were scattered around the room, casting the bed in romantic, flickering golden light. 

Azriel’s free arm winds around her waist from behind and his lips follow the path of her shoulder up her neck as he pulls her back towards him. Elain tilts her head up to meet him halfway and his mouth travels along her jaw until his lips hover centimeters from hers. 

She feels like every bit of her skin is on fire. She could never imagine that the level of her desire for Azriel would surpass what she felt for him in the past but she was sorely mistaken because what she feels in this moment makes her think that if he didn’t do something to quell the ache thrumming between her legs, she might just die. 

“Azriel.” She breathes his name, turning towards him fully and breaking the silence that had settled comfortably between them.

“Elain.” He answers. His fingers press into the plush flesh of her hip, the very tips of them venturing low - teasing at the curve of her backside.

“My mate.” Elain says quietly, raising her hand to cup his face. Her thumb drags along his sharp cheekbone.

“My mate.” He repeats. The word is almost unfamiliar on his lips, like he still can’t quite believe the term is his to use. Azriel brings his lips to hers and her entire body is overcome with a desperate need. “My wife.”

Elain can’t help but whimper as her body curves into his by its own volition. She melts into his searing kiss. 

“My husband.”

Azriel lets out a soft moan at that and a slight shift of his stance allows her to feel him hard against her hip.

Elain is suddenly nervous as she pulls away to look up at Azriel. She doesn’t understand why she’s suddenly shy, standing in front of him like an innocent, blushing bride even though they both knew that ship had sailed long ago. He stares back at her, candle light catching the flecks of green in his eyes. 

She recognises the wonder there as he takes in the sight of her. It’s a perfect mirror to her own emotions. To the disbelief that they’d actually made it to this moment against all odds. 

“Not sure how we’re supposed to consummate anything with our wrists bound together.” Elain frowns, her voice shaking slightly. “I won’t be able to get you out of this suit.”

“I think it’s more of a symbolic thing.” Azriel smiles, kissing her once more to ease her nerves. His fingers slip from her waist to their wrists, deftly plucking at the knot of black satin until it comes loose and their hands are freed. He sets the ribbon down and fixes her with a look that sends a shiver down her spine. 

He motions for her to turn and then his hands are in her hair, gently removing pins until her hair falls in a gentle, albeit slightly messy, golden wave down her back. He gathers it to the side and more kisses are placed to the sensitive place where her neck meets her shoulder. 

Azriel’s fingers find the buttons that run down the back of her dress and he begins to undo them slowly. Elain knows that he’s doing it on purpose. That even on this special day, he wouldn’t dream of missing the opportunity to have her beg. 

But Elain, for once, won’t let him win. She somehow finds the will power to hold still as he undoes her dress and drags it down her arms and over her torso until it falls to the floor and she’s left standing in front of him in nothing except for the very expensive scrap of ivory lace that covers her sex and the shiny rings on her finger.

She reaches for his suit jacket and helps him maneuver out of it and then she steps around to his back to undo the buttons of his shirt around his wings. And maybe, just maybe, during the process of ridding him of his shirt, she lets her knuckles smooth over a part of the delicate membrane that has him gritting out her name in warning. 

Elain grins, moving back around to his front to reach for the buttons of his fine pants - slowly undoing them as he kicks off his shoes just in time for her to slide his trousers and undershorts down his legs.

She can’t help the way her eyes linger on the proud length of him. On the small bead of moisture gathered at the tip that gleams in the glow of the candles, practically calling for her to put her lips on him. She’s so distracted that she barely even registers Azriel reaching back for the ribbon he’d placed on the desk a few minutes ago. 

“I can think of better uses for this ribbon.” Azriel’s eyes flick up to meet hers as he smooths out the ribbon and dangles it from his fingertips. 

“I can think of something even better.” Elain plucks the ribbon from his hands and backs him towards the bed with a single finger against his chest until he’s laying down. His eyes shimmer with amusement as she motions for him to put his hands above his head but he silently follows her instructions.

She kneels next to him, leans down and tries so very hard to ignore the sweet press of his lips to her sternum as her fingers make quick work of wrapping the ribbon around both of his wrists before securing the remaining length to the wooden posts of her headboard. 

“You have the rest of our lives to touch me whenever and however you’d like. Let’s see how long you can last before you’re begging to touch your wife.”

She moves to settle herself on his lap but he stops her with a slight shift of his knees that sends her sliding further up his torso. 

“On my tongue first.”

Elain bites down on her lower lip, her core already tightening in anticipation as she shifts further up and carefully places a knee above each of his shoulders, mindful of his wings.

“Look at you.” Azriel’s eyes are fixed on the damp lace covering her center. On the gleam of arousal that covers her inner thighs. “Such a mess already and I haven’t even begun.”

“So much talking.” Elain grumbles, her face flooding with heat at just how wet she was for him when all he’d done was take her dress off.

“Make me stop.” Azriel challenges. She huffs but slowly lowers her hips until the defined tip of his nose brushes over her, dragging her soaked underwear over her clit in a delicious slide of friction.

It’s far from the first time he’s had her like this but it is the first time he hasn’t been able to use his hands. It’s in this moment that Elain realises just how much she relies on him to guide her down to his face. To pull her hips closer and closer, to help her rock against him as she rides him. With his hands restrained, it all falls  back on her to gain the confidence to use him like this. 

“Sit.” The single word is laced with pure demand and she can sense that Azriel’s patience is slipping. His need to get his mouth on her overruling any of the previous gentleness he’d shown her this evening. 

She does as she’s told and her hands fly out to grasp for purchase on her headboard at the first pass of Azriel’s mouth over the lace that covers her. He doesn’t give her a moment to catch her breath before he uses his teeth to tug the lace to the side as best as he can and then his tongue is on her, eagerly tasting her, consuming her with long, effortless strokes.

“I’ve missed this.” He groans against her skin. His tongue dips inside her. “ I’ve missed you.”

She doesn’t have the words to admonish him. To tell him that he could’ve had her this whole time if only he hadn’t been so stubborn. But a month without having him like this has taken its toll and Elain finds that she’s utterly incapable of forming any words or  sounds that aren’t a simple keening moan as she rolls her hips and chases the sensation quickly building low and intense in her stomach. Her thighs tremble, her fingers clench around the wooden posts of her bedframe and before she knows it, the wave of pleasure crests and she slumps forward - the already precarious rhythm of her hips falters as she comes hard and fast on his tongue. 

Azriel’s mouth doesn’t stop working her until she pulls off of him completely but even then, she isn’t granted a single moment of reprieve besides a couple seconds to catch her breath.

He calls in his shadows and icy, invisible hands are firm around her waist, guiding her back down to where she’d started. Her hands find his cock as his shadows stay with her, slipping in between her legs and over her breasts in feather light caresses that have her aching for more despite just having come mere seconds ago. 

Elain raises her eyes to look up at Azriel as she lowers her mouth to his cock. At the first slide of her tongue over his head, a particularly daring shadow slips inside her. The feeling of it is one she knows well, so similar to Azriel’s own fingers. 

Elain pulls off of him for a second, glaring up at him. The menacing look she’d been going for is cut short when she gasps as the shadow still inside her presses hard against her upper wall. 

“You said,” Azriel starts, eyes squeezing shut when she takes him in her mouth again. “You said I couldn’t touch you. You never said my shadows couldn’t.”

“Not fair.” Elain mumbles around the length of him, unwilling to stop the movement of her lips and tongue. She only takes him deeper, relishing in the way his hips lift to push himself further down her throat. 

“Did you think I’d forgotten?” More of his shadows are in her hair now, tugging at her roots with delicious pressure. “All those times you’ve taunted me this past month? Did you think I would forget?”

She gives him a subtle shake of her head, hollowing her cheeks around him all the while.

She’d been praying that he wouldn’t forget, that he’d catalogue all those moments until he could finally deliver on that promise of punishment she’d seen gleaming in his eyes each time she’d deliberately taunt him with her words or actions. 

“Touch me.” She doesn’t know how the tables have turned so quickly. How in a split second, she’s pulled off of him and has relinquished all control to him - begging him to touch her instead of the other way around as she’d initially planned. “Azriel, please.”

His shadows aren’t enough and too much time has passed. They’ve put it off too long and the thread between them has grown too taut. She wants his hands. His fingers. She wants him inside her. 

Elain blinks and Azriel’s hands are free. She blinks again and she’s on her back in the exact spot he had just been. His hazel eyes burn into hers as his hands - those glorious, beautiful scarred hands - smooth over every inch of her body that’s within their reach.

“Please.” She begs again, unsure as to what she’s even asking for. All she knows is that there’s greater forces at play and her wants and desires are careening dangerously out of control. 

“Okay.” Azriel nods and suddenly it’s clear as day to her that he’s experiencing the exact same thing on the other side of the bond glowing between them. There’s a new sense of urgency to his words. To his actions. His calloused thumbs drag over her nipples. “Okay, my love.”

He moves a hand inbetween her legs and pushes her thighs further apart and then she feels him, hot and heavy against her sex. He drags his cock over her twice, coating himself in the arousal he’s pulled from her. A moment later he’s inside her and Elains swears it’s the best thing she’s ever felt in her entire life.

“It feels…” She can’t finish her sentence. She’s too overcome by a wave of emotions so intense that it wracks through her body. That thread between them that had seemed so tangible for the past month had suddenly solidified into something else entirely. She could feel it in her blood. In each and every nerve. Could feel him. Each of her emotions - all the joy and the pleasure and the relief - it was all amplified. Doubled. Because she could feel his twin emotions on the other side of this new connection.

It had snapped. The bond had finally snapped into place once and for all. 

Elain laughs, high and bright, and full of disbelief because each time she had thought that what she felt for him couldn’t possibly be topped, she had been proven wrong.

“I know.” Azriel sweeps back the hair clinging to her sweat slick forehead and keeps his eyes on hers.

“It just…” Elain gasps, fingernails clawing at his back in a desperate attempt to get even closer to him. To feel even more of him. 

“I know.” Azriel repeats, lowering his mouth to hers in an all consuming kiss that renders her utterly useless. “I felt it, too.”

Azriel continues to whisper sweet nothings into her skin as he takes her, his hips meeting hers as he delivers long smooth strokes that have her crying his name. 

“Want you to come with me, okay?” He says gently, waiting until her eyes focus on his and she nods that she had in fact heard him before he bends one of her knees to her chest and picks up his pace. 

The new position has tears forming in the corner of her eyes from the sheer bliss that courses through her.  It’s a feeling that’s only heightened when he brings a hand in between their bodies to thumb at her clit.

“I meant every word.” Azriel murmurs, his forehead pressed tight to hers. “You’re my sun, Elain.” 

The smooth movement of his hips stutters and she knows he’s close.

I spent the first part of my life shrouded in darkness with only shadows for company.  I thought I’d learnt what it was to live in the light of day again but I didn’t truly know what it meant to feel the warmth of the sun until you looked at me for the first time.

The beautiful words Azriel had said to her earlier in the garden echo in her head and she can’t stop the sob that escapes her at the reminder of the vows they’d made. At the promises they’d sworn - the declarations to love and to cherish each other for the rest of their long, immortal lives. 

“I love you.” Her hands land on either side of his face and she holds him to her, kissing him deeply as he spills inside her. Her muscles contract around him, an endless pulsing sensation that makes her ears ring and her eyes go blurry.

He says it back to her - three words chanted over and over again in combination with her name as he fills her.

Her blood pounds through her veins and her heart feels like it’s going to explode out of her chest. No amount of reading and research into mating bonds would have prepared her for the magnanimity of what she felt in this  moment.

It isn’t until Azriel pulls out of her and kneels in between her legs that her eyes focus and she regains any sense of who or where she is. He gently pries her legs further apart and his eyes darken at the sight in front of him. She watches as he takes two of his fingers and collects the come smeared on her thighs. It coats his fingers and the sight of a small bit of it  sliding off the knuckle of his middle finger and landing over the gold band on his ring finger is so beautifully filthy that it has her holding back a moan.

“Back where it belongs.” Azriel says the words with a satisfied, purely male smirk and Elain’s breath hitches as he slides his fingers back in her, fucking his spend back inside her. She shivers at the sensation of cold metal grazing her skin. 

“Sometimes when I see you like this - your pretty cunt so wet and swollen, so full of my come that it drips out…” He pauses for a second, eyes fixated on the easy slip of his fingers in and out of her. “I wonder why I still take the tonic every morning.”

Elain summons the energy to prop herself up on her elbows so she can look at him. She’s shocked at his admission, at all that it entails. 

“If you want me to call you daddy, Azriel, all you had to do was ask.”

It’s a weak attempt at humour, a pathetic attempt to buy her some time as she tries to figure out what to say. 

Azriel’s head tips back and he laughs in that way that makes her heart ache with love for him.

“I’m serious, Elain.” He gives her a soft smile, his fingers still moving within her. “If you want that with me, I… I’d be honoured.”

“I need,” she gasps when his fingers curl inside her, pressing against the spot he knows will get her where he wants her to be. “To think.”

“Okay.” He agrees. “Whenever you’re ready. If you’re ever ready.”

“After this…” Elain’s back arches off the bed and her legs threaten to close but Azriel holds her open for him with his other hand.

“After the frenzy.” He completes her thought for her and watches, completely enamored as her head tilts back and her slender fingers frantically clutch at the sweat soaked sheets. 

“With a clear head.” She barely manages to get out the words. “We’ll talk about it.”

She’d need a clear head to discuss that particular subject  because right now, with how unbelievably aroused she was at the idea of his fingers pushing his come back inside her - back where it belongs - she’d do just about anything he asked of her.

Azriel only leans forward, crowding her body with his as he once again sends her falling over the edge. Her moans are swallowed eagerly by his mouth. 

“Always take me so well.” He praises her. “So beautiful each and every time you come for me.”

When she finally settles, utterly spent against the mattress, Azriel moves to pull back but Elain clambers to keep him with her and she finds herself startled by her own automatic reaction to him moving even a fraction of an inch away. She buries her face in his neck, drawing in the scent of him - that cedar scent that is now completely intertwined with notes of jasmine and honey- and the depth of her desire terrifies her.

Elain can’t fathom that there will be a time where she won’t need to feel the weight of him on top of her. Couldn’t imagine that there’d be a second of the foreseeable future in which she wouldn’t need to feel the warmth of his skin under the tips of her fingers. The possessive quality that already lived deep within her bones had grown into a whole new monster because even though she’s  been told over and over again that it’s the males who get territorial once a mating bond has been accepted, the way in which she needs to have Azriel all to herself makes her feel confident that she could rip someone to shreds if they looked at him for even a second too long.

“I never want to leave this bed.” Elain sighs, fingers slipping down the expanse of his back as she arches upward, her breasts pressing against his chest. She’s delighted when the shift of her body allows her to feel him hard against her stomach again because despite her sore muscles and the tiredness seeping into her bones, she’s somehow immediately ready for him. Desperate to have him inside her once more.

“Too bad.” Azriel’s lips skate up the column of her throat until his lips are right over her ear. “Because I intend to fuck you on every single surface in this house.”

He sinks into her again and Elain is convinced once and for all that this frenzy might never end.

[hufflepuffsandghosts]

Fic swap? 👀 - ur bestie Zero 🖤

Plot: PH!Bakugo and Y/N (AFAB)  get captured and thrown together in a dark cell. Whoever put them together wants them to do..things. They both refuse. But their captor is determined, putting hormones in the air to urge them on. How long can they last? 

A/N: Hello friend! This is a FicSwap for my lovely bestie! I tried to keep it as gender-neutral as possible for you bby. But please keep in mind that the reader has female anatomy. I really hope you like this as you know i am NOT the type to write smut ahh <3 ily

TW: Non-Con/Dub-Con, Use of drugs. Slight exhibitionism if you squint. Swearing. Unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kiddos!), Breeding NO MINORS ALLOWED TO INTERACT

The night was dark and eerie, with an air of tension surrounding Bakugo, aka Dynamight, Japan's #2 hero, and Y/N, aka H/N. Bakugo’s explosive quirk and Y/n’s strategic abilities complemented each other perfectly. The villain in question has been known to kidnap and kill couples. 

As the night settles in, the moon’s faint glow casts shadows on the abandoned industrial complex where the villain has set up his hideout. The air was tense, and each breath felt electric as the pair prepped to confront the dangerous kidnapper. The villain emerged from the shadows, his sinister laughter echoing through the desolate space. He was a towering figure, clad in all black as the moonlight glinted off a wickedly sharp blade he wielded. 

The battle began with a ferocious exchange of blows from both parties at play. Bakugo charged forward, using his explosions to close the distance between him and the villain. Y/N, always one step ahead, flanked the enemy with precision. Using their wits and agility to dodge the villain’s attack. 

Bakugo and Y/N always moved with almost telepathic coordination during their joint missions. They knew and anticipated each other’s moves, covering for one another effortlessly. Their effectiveness as a team always caught the attention of their peers and superiors, leading to more frequent assignments together. During this particular mission fraught with danger, the pair were hesitant to acknowledge their evergrowing feelings for one another. It wasn't until a split-second decision on Bakugo's part, stepping in as a shield for Y/n from a deadly attack that put them in this predicament and was captured by the villain and his team

In a dimly lit, desolate underground cell, Bakugo and Y/N found themselves shackled together. They were both heroes, each possessing unique abilities and strong wills to help. But now, stripped of their powers and freedom, they faced an unimaginable challenge. Their captor, a sinister figure hiding in the shadows, had a twisted plan for them. 

Bakugo’s fiery temper ignited immediately as he attempted to break free from the chains that bound him to Y/N. “Let me GO, damn it! We’ll tear this place apart!” he snarled, his red eyes blazing with fury. 

Y/n on the other hand, remained surprisingly calm, trying to reason with their captor. “There’s no need for this. We won’t give in to your sick demands,” they declared, their voice steady despite the fear bubbling beneath the surface. Their captor’s voice echoed through the chamber, chilling them both to the bond. “Oh, but you will my little bunnies. I’ve laced the air with hormones designed to incite desire, and unless you want to be permanently trapped together, you both will have to cooperate.” 

Bakugo growled in frustration, not wanting to give their captor the satisfaction of seeing them weaken, “Like hell we will! I’m not falling for your tricks!” Y/n on the other hand, felt a sudden warmth spreading through the air, affecting their thoughts and emotions, it became increasingly difficult to ignore the proximity of Bakugo, the scent of his sweat, and the intensity of his gaze. 

As time passed, their willpower began to waver. Their captor kept the pressure on, taunting them with veiled threats and vague incentives that played on their deepest desires. “Come on Katsuki, don't you wanna feel how good Y/N feels? I know for a fact that she’s absolutely dripping right now.” Whispered the villain. 

Bakugo grunts, and shifts a little, he can see how slowly Y/n is becoming more and more desperate, moaning a bit here and there and shifting her legs to gain some sort of release for themselves. “F-Fuck Bakugo, please. I don't know how much longer I can take it.” Y/n Groaned. “It’s the hormones talking Y/N, dont let them win.” Bakugo huffed. 

“Tsk, tsk,” The villain said. “They’re practically asking to be used at this point Katsuki, how on earth can you deny them the pleasure.” 

“Shit” Bakugo thought. This was not good for the both of them, but all he could imagine is Y/N whimpering underneath him as he- 

No

Stop

Don’t give in. 

Is what he kept on telling himself before he realized that he was over the top of Y/n, both of his hands freed and placed lightly on their skin-tight hero costume, playing gently with their breasts. Y/n purred softly, grinding on his thigh at the slight touches. “Please Katsuki-” Y/N spoke softly, before being immediately interrupted by a forceful kiss from their partner in crime. “Shh baby, let me take care of you properly” Katsuki growled, placing kissing and nips along Y/N's neck.

  Feeling the heat rise between the both of them. Katsuki gets off slightly, admiring the work of light bruises along their neck. Bakugo rips the bottom half of Y/n’s costume, revealing their wet pussy. He chuckles “Wow, what a little slut you are, getting off just at my leg alone. Tell me, what do you want.” 

Y/N huffs and doesn't say anything. 

Smack. A sting to their ass before he repeats. “Tell me, what, you want.”  

Smack

Y/N whimpers “Make me cum please Kat, please.” before gasping for air as Bakugo uses his thick, rough fingers to make quick work of spreading their legs the rest of the way, and his tongue is suddenly everywhere. Eating them out like his life depended on it. Lapping everything up like it was the last thing he was ever going to drink. 

Y/n writhed underneath him, grabbing and pulling at the blonde’s hair. He sucks on your clit and rubs his cock against the hard mattress when you moan. Tongue sliding between your folds like he’s been starving for you. Bakugo then moves his face so it’s closer to your neck, so his lips are beside your ear and he can say things just as breathily as you. and places bites and hickeys along their breasts while inserting two fingers. “fuck Y/N,” he moaned. “You’re already so tight for me and I haven't even done anything yet.” Y/n nods, chatting out agreements “Just fucking get it over with already Bakugo-” 

He reaches up and places two fingers into their mouth, while you suck and gasp as he removes his pants, showing his cock covered with his own pre-cum, slowly teasing Y/N’s wet folds. He removes his fingers and smirks, slamming his dick inside. Y/n jolts suddenly, toes curling at the sheer size and thickness of Bakugo’s cock. 

“You’re being so obedient for me Y/n, you’re so good for me..” He purrs, slamming into you over and over again. Losing a bit more sanity and more as Y/n gets tighter and tighter around him. “Fuck, that's it, baby, let me hear you.” He says, grabbing Y/N’s hair and pulling the both of them as close as possible. Slamming into Y/n's G-spot as they moaned and were almost screaming with pleasure. It makes both of their heads a little foggy. 

“Shit- fuck- Y/N I'm gonna-” Katsuki moans, pushing in as hard as he can, hitting the cervix before cumming. “M-me too-” Y/n moans. Slow and controlled, lifting up a bit to kiss them deep and make you feel every little bit of him. He allows himself to fuck the cum into you, reveling in the quiet gasps you make. Both are so sensitive, but it feels so good. 

“You’re mine now, Y/n,” He huffs, before kissing Y/n’s lips, and then to their forehead. Y/N smiles, “I would love that but now, let's figure out how to get the hell out of here.”

All content © hufflepuffsandghosts 2023. Do not repost, modify, or claim my work as your own.

[hanakoofthejungle]

HuskerDust watercolor fanart based on the fanfiction, Casino of Love by @artwaterfall. The fanfiction, in turn, was inspired by the Overlord Husk AU created by @celestialalpacaron.

Drawing timelapse 

This scene comes from Chapter 15 where Husk and Angel went on their first date at Fizzmodeus' restaurant. They had lobsters. Angel did not know how to eat a lobster so Husk came to the rescue. Basically, they just abused the hell out of that poor dead creature. (It occurred to me: Where does the lobster's soul go? Does it end up in hell, watching its body being consumed?)

---

Angel tried again to pry the shell off still looking over to the side. “Am I doing it?”

Husk barked a laugh so loud the pianist looked up frowning.

“Ya gotta look at what ya doing.”

“Ugh,” Angel deflated and let the lobster rest on the plate, “ maybe I shouldn't have lobster.”

“Here,” Husk got up and walked behind his chair. He laid his hand over Angel's and resumed trying to pry the poor crustacean body.

Angel blushed at the proximity, Husk was practically whispering into his ear about the damn lobster but Angel had trouble focusing with the overlord's hand on his own.

Still Angel butchered the first half of his lobster and screamed in joy a little too loud at having half of it done. People downstairs looked up at them again, frowning.

Husk was still helping him with the second half, juices and lobster bits flying everywhere at Angel clumsiness but every time they joined stares at each other, he would find the cat laughing along with him.

---

Now why did I choose this scene to draw? Because it is fun, simple, wholesome couple interaction and very relatable. It reminds me of the time when I had lobster for the first time in Brussels, spending more time to crack open the lobster than actually enjoying the dish. Turns out lobster did not taste that great, but at the least the group of elderly American at the next table got a good laugh out of watching me and my friend absolutely butcher that lobster :)))

Having never watched Helluva Boss, I had to look up what the inside of that place looks like, but mistakes ensure due to that very wrong heart shape and lack of patterns on the wallpaper. I was lazy but hey at least I got that lamp thingy on the table right :))) As usual, the clothes are the focal point of my fanarts, "a beautiful deep blue, floor length dress, there was only one shoulder strap and a lace veil came from it all the way to the floor behind his shoulder" and "freshly pressed black suit with a deep blue tie that matched Angel's dress". Husk's suit in this drawing is not actually black but a mix of ultramarine and sepia. I usually don't use colors straight out of the pan, but mixing them. I made an exception in this with the lake red color of Husk's wing. I forgot to draw the wings before I did the line art, so I need the color at its strongest to cover the line art which was not supposed to be there.  

My tools still include pencil and Leningrad watercolor. I have been using that watercolor set for over 10 years and it is still the best watercolor set I have ever had. This time I use the Blue Uni-ball pen by Mitsubishi Pencil instead of black M&G gel pen. The line art looks much smoother and the waterproof blue ink added a nice touch to the drawing. I expect nothing less from one of the best pen manufacturers out there. 

[artficlly]

wip wednesday

it's not wednesday but shhh.

thank you for tagging me @marvelstoriesepic !! so sorry it's taken me so long to get around to doing this. i'm officially done with uni for the year woohoo, i'm free-ish until february so i want to try write a lot. here is a wip i've been working on?? no idea what this is going to be, maybe a one-shot, maybe a shorter series. anyway enjoy, so sorry for the long wait between posting these last few months. much love and btw it's a fantasy apocalyptic au!

i who have known death monsterhunter!bucky x healer!reader

The space where Dregwyn County once occupied had been drenched in a deep, black ink. Any carefully drawn details or delicate lettering was obscured—consumed even. Dregwyn County was a place long forgotten, like many others, just a mere memory lost to the wind. The Bleeding Lands Map was sacred to the Sisters of the Veil, a map of all of history and all that was to come. Massive and weathered, edges fraying, it dominated the chamber room. Looking upon it was like a prayer come to life, a record of life lost since The Blight. Regions were marked with faded names, and where cities had fallen, it was replaced with a lathering of ink, as if one had taken a brush and erased the entire region from existence. The lands the Sisters had once healed were shrinking, drawn back into the grasp of the Bloodworms.

You reached out, finger tracing across the small metal pins pressed into the void which was once Dregwyn County. Each pin was painted black, a record of each sister lost as the region fell. It did not mark the other innocents lost, the families and workers. No, the map could not hold the number of pins needed to represent the loss since the Bloodworm Blight would simply be left as a mountain of metal. The frayed paper turned to ribbons under each prick and pierce. 

Your heart tightened as you gazed at the pins, noting how the map grew smaller each passing year, even within the short years she had called Cloisterwood home. Once vast and thriving, the safe lands were now reduced to small pockets of resistance. The cities had become refuges, safe from the Bloodworms, but there were fewer and fewer of them. And the countryside? The places that had once supported civilisation? They were lost. All lost.

Your gaze swept away from the North, away from the void of dark ink that obscured the borderlands. The Bloodworms pressed in from the west, attacking the small towns and farmers that remained in the red-soiled swamps. The South… well, the South was no better than the North. The Blight rampaged through the plains, thriving in the open where their hosts could make rapid ground, and there were fewer and fewer places for the survivors to hide. No, the one true last fortress of the lands was the East. The Bloodworm Blight was rampant but controllable. Cities offered protection and purpose, and the Sisters of the Veil were always nearby. Colourfully painted pins dotted those Eastern areas, each representing an active sister who was out healing. 

You would soon be one of those colourful pins.

You had completed your training after six years with the Sisterhood of the Veil, or the Faceless as you were often referred to. Healing, Alchemy, even good manners if Sister Niva could get a word in. Six years later, you were ready to be sent out into the world, a world that you had blissfully forgotten. Would the memories of Dregwyn blind you with grief? Or would you grit your teeth, bury those feelings and continue? It would have to be the latter if you had learnt anything; this bleeding world was not one to hesitate in.

The large doors opening echoed through the room, startling you as you backed away a few steps from The Bleeding Lands Map. 

“Sister, it is time.” The Sister’s expression was unreadable beneath her veil, the black lace shrouding her features. Some had even called your Sisterhood wraiths, women who walked the line between life and death—faceless women who stood in the face of evil. 

You nodded, rushing to leave the small confines of the Map Chamber.  The sister at the door, Sister Elara, you could recognise her by her voice alone, grasped your shoulder as you attempted to pass.

“Once you enter, I will not see you again. You will choose a name from the bowl and leave for the place immediately.” Her voice sounded oddly strained, tight and nasally. You tilt your head beneath your own veil. It was unlike the Sister Elara to convey such evident emotion. “It has been an honour, my acolyte. I trust you will do well out there.”

“And it has been my honour to be taught by you.” Your voice caught in your throat as you spoke, a sad smile playing across your obscured lips. Six years with this woman, your mentor, your rock… and yet you had never seen her face. When you closed your eyes, you would only be met with the image of who you thought she could be. Was she brunette or blonde? Did she have dimples when she smiled, crooked teeth? Did her hair curl in the rain, and were her eyes a mismatch of green and blue? 

All you would ever know was her voice, soft-spoken and steady. You could only hope that in your last moments, you could cling to those memories, the two of you tucked away in the stuffy, incense-smoke-filled studies of Cloisterwood, how her delicate hands had guided yours, showing you how to stitch a wound or brew a potion. 

“I who have known death,” The Sister Elara choked out, hand raising to her left shoulder as she cut a motion diagonally downwards, the repeated on her right as she drew out an X across her chest.

“I who have known the end.” You reply, repeating the motion. 

There was a sinking feeling as you stepped into the corridor, blindly walking towards the ascension room. A sinking feeling that Sister Elara already knew you were being sent to your death. A mother's intuition, maybe, a knowing within her soul as her faceless acolyte stepped into the beyond. For all the death you had known, it would be nothing compared to the fate that awaited you in the western swampland stronghold of Redhollow.

[lilasbutterflygarden]

Is this love?

Catacombs under Paris Cerise’s lair

Ladybug, and Chrysalis are fighting.

Ladybug: “This ends today lie-la!”

Chrysalis(evil smirk): “I don’t think so my little ladybug!”

Ladybug throws her yo-yo at Chrysalis to try and catch the villain. Chrysalis cuts the yo-yo’s string with her cane.

Chrysalis(crazy wide eyes, and evil smile): “You should be happy! I’m going to grant a great wish! I’m going to make a world where no one has to die! I love you Ladybug! I love you Marinette! I'm only alive when I’m fighting you! Think about it! We can fight each other for all of eternally! I love you! THEREFORE I HAVE TO KILL YOU!!!!!!!! Because violence is the only way that I know how to express my feelings for you!

Ladybug: “Lila you need help!”

Chrysalis(laughs): “Don’t pretend to care about me! You hated me from the day we first met!”

They continue to battle. They are evenly matched. Chrysalis sweep kicks Ladybug tripping her. Chrysalis pulls a needle out of the top of her cane, and jabs Ladybug in the neck with it. Ladybug passes out.

Marinette wakes up. She sees that she’s still in Cerise’s lair underneath Paris. She tries to get up, but she realizes that she’s tied to a chair. Marinette also realizes that she’s no longer wearing her Ladybug costume. She’s wearing a black gothic lolita dress, with black lace gloves She looks around the room that she’s in, and sees a round table in front of her. The table has chocolates, and a teacup.

Cerise: “Oh good! You’re awake!”

Cerise enters the room. Like Marinette she’s also wearing a gothic lolita dress only hers is purple, with purple lace gloves, plus she has a small purple hat on her head which has the butterfly miraculous attached to the hat, and her face is covered by a black veil.

Marinette(struggling against her restraints): “What the hell is this?”

Cerise sits down on the other side of the table opposite of Marinette.

Cerise: “It’s a date silly!”

Marinette: “You undressed me!”

Cerise: “I made Nooroo cover his eyes.”

Marinette: “That’s not the point, and where is Tikki?”

Cerise: “She’s safe.”

Cerise pulls out a silver tray with the ladybug earrings, and puts it on the table next to her. Tikki appears, and flies over to Marinette.

Cerise: “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to knock you out, but it was the only way.”

Marinette: “Why did you do this?”

Cerise(in a sweet tone of voice): “How else am I supposed to spend any time with you?”

Marinette: “There’s no us Lila!”

Cerise: “Why?”

Marinette: “Do I need to list the reasons why? You’re evil, and I’m with Adrien!”

Cerise(laughs): “Are you now? I’m pretty sure that he broke up with you after he found out that you lied to him about his father. You know when you stop and think about it you’re just as much of a liar as I am. So don’t think that you are too good to date me.”

Cerise gets up, grabs a chocolate off of the table, and walks over to Marinette.

Cerise: “Now open up, and say ahh!”

Marinette: “You must be crazy if you think…”

Before Marinette can finish her sentence Cerise forces the chocolate into Marinette’s mouth.

Marinette reluctantly eats the chocolate. To her surprise it’s really good.

Cerise: “It’s good isn’t it? Nooroo loves those chocolates too. Don’t you Nooroo?”

Nooroo appears out from Cerise’s hat.

Marinette(worried look on her face): “Are you ok Nooroo? She hasn’t hurt you has she?”

Cerise(offended look on face): “ I would never hurt Nooroo! He’s my best friend. The only one who smiles at me ever.”

Cerise holds out her hand, and Nooroo flies over and lands on her index finger.

Nooroo(sad look on face): “I know it’s hard to believe guardian, but there is good in her! Please don’t hurt her!”

Cerise starts coughing.

Cerise: “I don’t have much time left before Gabriel’s wish kills me. Just let me make my wish to create a world without death!”

Marinette: “I can’t let you make your wish. Death is a part of life. Without death there can’t really be life. I’m truly sorry that you’re sick. Again let me help you.”

Cerise: “No! I’m not going to spend the rest of my life in prison!”

Marinette: “You’re die if you don’t.”

Cerise: “It’s your fault that I’m dying! You let your guard down, and because of you Gabriel made his wish, and Nathalie’s illness passed to me!”

Cerise walks behind Marinette, and unties her from the chair that she’s in.

Marinette tries to slap her, but Cerise catches her hand.

Cerise: “That’s not very nice my little ladybug.”

Marinette(Smirk on face): “I had to try.”

Cerise: “Now let’s finish all of these delicious chocolates, and enjoy this date. After all today is Valentine's Day.”

Marinette: “We are not a couple!”

Cerise: “But we can be.”

Cerise sits down on Marinette’s lap.

She lifts up the veil that’s covering her face.

Cerise: “Let yourself love me.”

Cerise kisses Marinette.

Marinette pushes Cerise off of her lap.

Marinette: “Get off me!”

Marinette looks down at the gothic lolita dress that Cerise put her in.

Marinette: “Why did you pick this outfit?”

Cerise(smiles): “I thought that it would look good on you. You look sooo perfect in it like a doll. But we both know that you’re not perfect. You’re just as bad as me. You lied to everyone about Gabriel.”

Cerise jumps back into Marinette’s lap.

Click. There’s a flash of light, and Marinette sees Nooroo holding a camera.

Cerise: “Good boy Nooroo.”

Cerise(whisper’s into Marinette’s ear): “I love the way you lie.”

Marinette’s face blushes.

Tikki: “I’m sorry that I can’t be of more help.”

Cerise: “We can be queens of a new world. All you have to do is let me make a wish.”

Marinette: “I will never help you! What you’re doing is wrong!”

Cerise: “There’s no such thing as right or wrong! You either have power or you don’t!”

Cerise turns away from Marinette.

Cerise: “I’m not like you Marinette! You have a Mother, and Father who both love you! I have nothing! I don’t have many memories of my past.(Cerise starts to cry)My Mother died shortly after I was born. My Father hated me. He blamed me for her death. I’m not human. I’m a sentimonster. I’m nothing.”

Cerise turns back around, and looks at Marinette with a sad smile on her face.

Cerise: “I remember when Gabriel hired me. I was so happy until he fired me. He said I was nothing.”

Marinette gets up from the chair, and walks over to Cerise.

Marinette: “I’m sorry.”

Cerise: “What! Stop! I don’t want your pity!”

Marinette walks over to the table, and

 takes a chocolate off of the table, and eats it.

Marinette: “You’re right.”

Cerise: “Excuse me?!”

Marinette: “You’re right. I do hurt people. I lie to people. I hurt Adrien. I hurt you too. I never should have embarrassed you in front of Adrien on the day you first came here.”

The butterfly miraculous activities, and Cerise can feel Marinette’s negative emotions. Cerise takes the butterfly brooch off of her hat, and pins it to her dress. She places the hat on the table.

Cerise: “Nooroo dark wings rise!”

Nooroo gets sucked into the brooch, and Cerise transforms into Chrysalis.

Chrysalis opens up the top of her butterfly cane, and a akuma flies out of the cane, and towards Marinette.

Marinette(turns and looks at Chrysalis): “ Do it! Akumatized me! I deserve it!”

Chrysalis smacks Marinette across the face.

Chrysalis: “Stop it! Stop trying to be noble!”

Tikki flies over to Marinette.

Marinette: “I’m not trying to be noble. It’s true, I’m a bad person.”

Chrysalis: “Stop it!”

Chrysalis calls the akuma back to her cane.

Chrysalis: “It’s not fun if you want to be akumatized!”

Tikki: “Marinette you need to snap out of it!”

Marinette: “How can I Tikki?”

Chrysalis: “I don’t get it!”

Tikki: “Get what?”

Chrysalis(confused look on face): “I thought that it would make me happy to see you so sad. I’ve dreamed of akumatizing you, but now I just feel uncomfortable.”

Marinette falls to her knees.

Marinette(crying): “Please do it! Just akumatize me already!”

Tikki looks on helplessly not knowing how to help Marinette.

Chrysalis watches Marinette.

Chrysalis: “Dark wings fall!”

Chrysalis turns back into Cerise.

To Cerise’s surprise she finds herself crying as well.

Cerise(thinking): ‘What is this? Am I really crying?’

Just then the wall behind them explodes. A grim-faced Cat Noir walks towards them. He sees Marinette on the floor crying.

Cat Noir: “Get away from her!”

Cerise: “I didn’t do anything to her!”

Cat Noir: “You’re lying!”

Cerise: “Fine don’t believe me! Dark wings rise!”

Cerise turns back into Chrysalis.

Chrysalis: “This is a mood killer. I’m outta here.”

Chrysalis runs towards the table where the silver tray is only to find the ladybug earrings are not on the tray.

Tikki(holding the earrings): “Looking for these?”

Chrysalis(coughing): “I will get both of your miraculous if it’s the last thing that I do!”

Chrysalis turns to look back at Marinette. She grabs the camera off of the table.

Cat Noir: “She’s getting away!”

Marinette(sad tone of voice): “Let her.”

Tikki flies over to Marinette, and places the earrings in her hands.

Marinette gets up, and cries into Cat Noir’s arms.

Marinette(sobs): “I’m a failure!”

Marinette looks into Cat Noir’s eyes.

Marinette: “It’s all my fault! I treated Lila as an enemy before I knew her cause I was jealous that she would steal you away! I kept Chloe at arm's length when she wanted to be Queen Bee, I failed to save Gabriel, and I let my guard down and he made his wish! You must hate me!”

Cat Noir: “No I don’t hate you. But I can’t forgive you. Not yet anyway.”

Marinette: “But what am I supposed to do?”

Cat Noir: “Claws in!”

Cat Noir turns back into Adrien.

Adrien: “I think that you already know what you have to do.”

Marinette: “I have to save Cerise.”

Abandoned warehouse

Cerise is looking at the picture of her, and Marinette on her camera that Nooroo took. She pats Nooroo on the head.

Cerise: “Nooroo why couldn’t I bring myself to akumatize her?”

Nooroo: “Love is a funny thing I think. Kwamis can’t fall in love.”

Cerise: “Maybe people are better off without love.”

[givethemsmut]

Dom Mysterio x Reader

Chapter Eleven | Where It All Started…

I watched Dom talk to some beauty with a full face of makeup and outfit so put together I felt underdressed in Dom’s hoodie. Suddenly I felt insecure and small so I stayed put. Sitting on the black case used to store equipment I crossed my legs under me waiting for Dom to be done.

Still shaking off Randy’s veiled threats I scrolled on my phone, buy more things for the house, and plan for our baby.

It wasn’t until Randy walked by, again, asking me to wish him luck. Looking at him confused he elaborated: “Didn’t he tell you? I’m his new arch enemy… I get to ruin his fight. Maybe his life.”

Randy didn’t want me, he just wanted to make sure Dom stayed under his boot. Keeping him in his place as the next legacy up for success.

Quickly standing up I clutched at Randy, begging him to rethink this. I knew Randy was vindictive in the worst ways.

Security stopped me from going further when Randy’s music hit and I watched him rush to the ring from the sidelines.

Costing Dom the match, he grabbed a mic, “I’m tired of your ungrateful ass. Beautiful girlfriend, baby on the way, legacy dad, top tier faction and yet night after night I have to hear you complain. I’m tired of it. I’m gonna give you plenty to complain about.”

I was there when Dom came backstage and I could see the anger all over his face. I rushed him skidding my hand in his. “Dom, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why? You’re the one who gave them the idea when they saw our fight over you at the hotel.” He was sweaty, rage smeared his features and there was nothing I recognized right now. 

“Dom. I need to talk to you privately. Right now.” I followed him off the backstage platform, begging him to stop, while Randy walked through the same way only he wasn’t silent. At all.

“One of those things you can complain about? Ask your girlfriend. Can’t wait to see your face.” 

Randy badgered him and Dom powered towards him, throwing fists and elbows. “Be fucking jealous. I have everything you don’t.”

Security pushed me out of the way and cameras appeared trying to capture the fight. Randy got the last hit in when Dom laid on the dirty floor for longer than needed. When I rushed to his side the cameras zoomed in on Dom before he pushed the camera away.

Finally getting up, Dom took my arm into his grip and dragged me to a private dressing room before slamming the door. Driving his fist against the door he didn’t even turn to face me before speaking, “What does he know that I don’t? Whatever secrets you have aren’t going to be secret anymore.”

“Dom. It was a long time ago. We were babies, living in that condo during your training. None of it was planned.” I stalled trying to avoid saying the sour words.

Turning around his eyes pierced me, “Just say it.”

“It was a mistake, Dominik. We weren’t together.”

“Fucking. Say. It.” He demanded.

“During the Hall of Fame that year Randy kept hitting on me, we had some drinks… we ended up fooling around.” I stood there shaking, trying to keep my composure. 

“You put me through hell the last few days. Demanding I tell you every little detail and here you are confessing to fucking Randy Orton. Was it worth it, sweetheart? Are you ready to relive it on national television?” His voice was laced with venom and I knew better to get smart with any kind of comeback. His body loomed over mine, his mouth tight and his body tense.

“Dom. We weren’t together,” my words shook but I had to say them.

“So I’m the villain, baby? I fucked up because we were together? We’ve been together since we were fourteen. Whether you want to admit it or not. It’s always been us.” Snarling the words in my face I clamped my eyes down. “Start talking. Whatever secrets you still have.”

“Don’t do this, Dominik.” I begged him. 

“I need to fucking cool off. I expect answers.” Walking past me, his shoulder checking mine, I lost my balance. Pivoting I watched Dom pull off his sweaty shirt and peel off his ring attire entirely. I followed him further into the locker room, where the showers sat at the back of the room. 

Hitting the wall with his fist I watched him twist the knob of the shower before pushing down his boxer briefs. Leaning against the wall I forced my eyes down.

“We were drunk. He kept touching me. I thought we’d make out or something but then it escalated…”

Standing under the water with the shower curtain open I was forced to watch his reaction to my confession. “Escalated how? He fucked you?”

“You’ve fucked plenty of girls who weren’t me. Including Marie.” I shot back.

His hands pushed back his hair under the water and I watched his muscles stretch. “On purpose. To hurt you. To make you jealous. None of it ever worked. I didn't even know about Randy so what was your excuse?”

“It’s hard to explain… you won’t understand…”

“I’m familiar with the concept of sex, sweetheart. He fucked you from behind? Missionary? You rode him? It’s not that complicated.” 

Stepping forward I tried to find the words when Dominik’s hand dragged me inside the shower. “Stop trying to not hurt my feelings. Just say it.”

“I rode him but not like that. He didn’t go inside me. It’s hard to explain. I’m so sorry, Dom. It wasn’t like that. It was just a drunken mistake.”

“You expect me to believe you didn’t touch him?”

“As much as she didn’t touch you…” I bit back waiting for his cruelty. 

His hand squeezed my features and I was soaked by the water. “Your pussy is never not going to be mine. It’s been mine since we were fucking fourteen. You can fight it, you can pretend, you can have my babies but nothing you do is going to erase my fucking name on that pussy.”

Dom had a few girls in his lifetime. Not enough to be a player at all but he took pride in being able to make me come without trying. Knowing someone else made me come only tortured him more than our youth.

Leaving me there under the shower head in my clothes he walked away before stopping. “Oh sweetheart? If I see him near you again I’ll fucking go to jail for hurting him. Trust me. See you on the bus in twenty.”

I believed Dom. He was nice until he wasn’t. There was an anger that lived inside of him and it liked to fight. 

When I left the shower I took a deep breath trying to compose myself when I saw a beat pile of clothes folded, a pair of sweats and Dom’s merch shirt. Thankfully I peeled my moist clothes off as fast as I could but it didn’t stop someone from walking in.

“Oi! Sorry!” His accent laid it on thick when I looked up to see one of the guys Dom worked with. His back read Judgement Day in purple and I relaxed a little more.

“I’m almost done. I was exactly supposed to get wet so I didn’t know where the towels were.” I pulled the shirt over my breasts and they shrugged trying not to rush me.

“I don’t want any problems. Dom is not someone I fuck with when it comes to you.”

I was curious when I asked, “what do you mean?”

Finally turning around with his hand over his eyes I let him know I was all set before he looked at me. “He already gave us the speech. You’ve been together since fourteen and if we even look at you sideways we’re dead. He doesn’t play when it comes to you.”

It made me want to smile but we were in a good space. Randy was something from the past trying to bring us down and Dom cheated on me. We were barely surviving and I was pregnant. Nothing was ideal.

Leaving his friend in the dressing room I headed for the outside when Dom was standing there with our bags changed out of his ring outfit. “Ready? Bus tonight. We’ll figure the rest out later.”

“Dom, I wasn’t traveling with you. You already have people you’re traveling with. That’s not fair to them.”

Rhea ended up in the doorway with open arms, “Congrats, girl! I’m so happy for you guys to have a mini Dom Dom!”

Feeling obligated I climbed the stairs to the bus. It was a trailer on wheels, endless room and bunks lining the sides. Following Rhea I parked myself on the couch. 

“Obviously, you guys should take the big bed in the back. I’ll wear headphones tonight.” She said her words with laughter in-between. 

I immediately felt awkward at the joke that we would be having sex on a bus filled with his coworkers. My cheeks flamed up and I announced I wasn’t feeling well before walking towards the back. I expected Dom to follow but after everything I couldn’t punish him for needing space either. 

Crawling onto the big bed I cuddled up to a pillow in my same clothes feeling guilty that their bodies ached while I ended up in the big bed. It made no sense. I wasn’t even showing yet. I scrolled through my phone until Dominik snuck in and shut the door behind him.

I tried not to look in his direction when he crawled onto the bed, crawling over me, and forcing me to pay attention. Twisting over his hands smoothed up my arms, clenching my wrists against the bed. “It doesn’t matter what happened in the past. None of it matters now. You’re having my baby.”

“The past for me is years. Yours is last month.” I spat at him between us.

“Is it easier for you if I fucked her? Is it easier if you fuck Randy? What do you want from me, baby? All I want is you, us. Just tell me what to do. I can’t even touch you. Is that what I have to do? Hold you down and force myself between your legs?” I could see the anger ignite in his eyes when his grip around my wrists got tighter.

“Dom. We’ve been using sex as the answer for years. It doesn’t solve everything.”

“Then fucking forgive me!” His face nudged into my neck and I felt his kisses trail down to my chest. “I'm not leaving. I’m not letting you leave me over a mistake.”

After the silence between us swelled he spoke again, “You’ve always driven me crazy. We’ve never been apart. I needed you…”

“You could have called, texted, FaceTimed me… I would have jumped on a plane for you. I would have done anything for you, Dom.” I pleaded with the vulnerable parts of him.

“I know, baby. I know. I was trying not to jerk off and it only made it worse. I was looking at pictures on my phone while she was talking to me, I don’t even know what she was saying before she kissed me. With my eyes closed I could imagine it was you. Do you remember that one time at the condo? You were shaking and you couldn’t focus. I was hurting like that.” His mouth trailed his kisses down my clothed body.

Trying to relax I tried to get him to stop but it was pointless. “That was different.”

“How? You showed up in my room practically fucking naked begging me to fuck you. I was suffering, I didn’t even get to ask you to let me, baby. I need you.”

[ flashback ]

We had lived together on our own in Florida for a year before things got harder. Dominik was always tempting me, flirting with me, and testing every reserve I had until I couldn’t take it anymore.

I was masterbating twice a day just to find any piece of relief when life got in the way. I had gone a week without any relief and Dom was not helping. 

Walking around in boxer briefs and a plain white shirt I felt myself inch deeper into the couch. Trying to look uninterested but still able to steal looks without being noticed. 

It wasn’t until Dom fell to the couch next to me with his chicken nuggets cluttering a plate. “Want some?”

Shaking my head I stayed silent and curled up in the corner making sure there was enough space between us. We had stopped toying with each other, stopped flirting, stopped acting like reckless kids like back home. We were giving each other space but that didn’t mean every time I saw Dom I didn’t feel my knees go weak.

His hand landed on my thigh, squeezing me enough to force me to look at him. “Catch me up. This week has been hell at the gym. Look at this sick bruise.”

Pulling up his shirt with one hand I saw the bruise hug his hip, all purple and angry. Gasping at the site I asked if he was okay when he so casually responded, “Pull those down a little.”

Hesitantly I let my fingers reach out, touching the waist band and tugging them down to see the bruise only got worse. “Dom.”

“I’m okay, babe. Just comes with the territory.” Pushing up his hips he looked down at the wear and tear with a smile on his face. “I’m finally earning some war wounds.”

I don’t know if I was stressed or hormonal but the tears clouded my vision and I plowed my face into the crook of his shoulder. Sobbing into him I felt a flood gate break realizing what his life was going to be when he only drifted further away. He was going to be on the road, getting hurt, meeting other girls and forgetting me. All of that caved me in. 

Putting down his plate his hands wrapped around me, “Hey, what happened? I’m okay. I promise.”

“It’s not that. It’s everything.” Explaining all my fears he paused, forcing my chin up. “I can’t promise that. I wish I could but I know eventually if we don’t end up together we’ll end up in other people’s beds. Trust me, I don’t want to fuck anyone else.”

Letting me cry into his body I felt myself relax just enough to fall asleep. When I woke up I was tucked in, a blanket laying over me heavily and it was dark throughout our condo. All I could see was the dim glow of light coming from Dom’s room at the end of the hallway. 

Picking myself up I felt all those fears only motivate me when I quietly walked to my room. Rummaging through my clothes I found a black thong and a mesh overlay that showed off everything. A thin see through material was the only thing covering my body.

Nervously I pushed Dom’s door open and stood there in the doorway waiting for him to notice me. Flicking the TV to mute he sat up in his bed, “Don’t do that to me.”

“Do what?” I asked innocently, my finger twisted up in the long ribbon holding the front together. 

“Show me everything I can’t have, baby.”

Pulling the ribbon I let it open carefully, slowly. The material scraping against my hard nipples before it opened. “I don’t want someone else being there for you… I don’t want someone seeing your bruises…”

Sitting in the center of his bed, Dom scrubbed his face wildly like he was going to magically wake up from a dream. “What are we going to do about that?”

Leaning back against the headboard cockily I couldn’t take my eyes off him. I let the cover fall down my shoulder, exposing my entire chest. “Dom,” I whined while fidgeting in the doorway. I wanted to crawl on the bed but I couldn’t get my shaking legs to move. “It’s not working. I can’t keep lying to myself…” I confessed.

“Your legs are shaking…” his hand gripped himself through his covers over his lap. “Mi amore. You made it clear I should stop trying.”

Sneaking into his bed I let the cover up drop to the floor completely first. “You don’t understand, Dom. I need you. I can’t… no one is you.”

Laying there so still my knees rubbed together.  Facing me his tongue swiped his lips, “Okay, tell me the rules.”

Reaching out for his shirt I tugged it gently, “I need you to make love to me. No more games or fucking. I’ve always loved you, Dominik. I just never felt good enough for you.”

“Fuck,” his head drooped to my shoulder. “I wish you said something sooner. Marie texted me… we’ve been talking.”

Suddenly I felt stupid and exposed laying in Dom’s bed. He wasn’t flirting. He simply wanted to show me his beaten body as a trophy. “Oh. I should go. I’m so sorry,” I slipped out of his bed and hurried for the door. 

I had waited a year to decide I needed him just for him to find sanctuary in his ex. I did it to myself. 

“Wait, wait, baby. I’m sorry.” His hand landed on my hip, keeping me in his bed and it only made the rejection worse. “I don’t want to hurt her.”

“You’re right, I’m too late.”

Getting on his knees he ended up on top of me. “I’m not a cheater.”

My hands grasped onto his shirt like a lifeline. “I know, Dom. I can keep a secret, baby. Just between us.” My mouth found his neck and I could help it when my lips trailed kisses to his jaw.

“Fuck, mi amore. We shouldn’t…” Nothing about his words screamed desire or torture enough to finally fall into bed. It was heartbreaking. It was simply sex. 

“I love you, Dom. You’ve never made love to me…” letting my knees brush the outside of his hips I arched my back, pushing my chest into his. “Please, Dom.”

“We’re older now. I don’t wanna hurt her again. We’ve been talking for a few months now.” He said sharply, protective even.

Jealousy swept my body and my hands roamed under his shirt, trying to push it off him until he gave up. Tracing his tattoos with my finger I whispered, “She’s back in Cali, we’re in Florida. I won’t tell, Dom. No one knows me like you do. I don’t want anyone else.”

“Goddamn it. What do you need from me, baby?” All the sexuality suddenly felt transactional instead.

Slipping my hand between us I stroked him inside his underwear. “You. This,” I whimpered before kissing his neck again. 

“What if I can’t fuck you?”

“Just kiss me, Dom.” His mouth found mine and it was almost instantly that his tongue was pressing against mine. My hands begged his hips to hump me.

“Fuck,” he pulled away just enough to feel like rejection.

“Don’t stop. Please baby.” I begged as I pushed the band on his boxers down until his cock fell out. 

“You want that, baby girl? Feel that? That tight ass pussy, am I gonna fit baby?”

Shaking my head, I separated my legs to show him how wet I am. 

“There we go, mi amore. Fuck. Is that what you want? You want to come on my cock baby? Come here, ride this.”

Twisting over he pulled me onto his lap, “that’s it baby.”

“Dom?” I asked before I sat on his lap. Looking up at me he shook his head, pressing back into his hands. “You were hard when I came in… because of her?”

“Yes. She sent me a photo. It doesn’t change that you’ll always turn me on too.”

He felt bad for me. This was pity sex. He wasn’t aching for me the way I was for him. 

Leaning down, our foreheads touched and my lips found his briefly. “You were right, Dom. We missed our time.” 

Dom pushed me off his lap. “You always do this. Make up excuses, run away scared. Marie wouldn’t have affected you at all before. Now she’s an issue? I wasted so much time chasing you.”

I let Dom leave without an argument. That was the last night we spoke for a while and the next time I did Marie was his serious girlfriend coming home for the holidays. 

[onyx666]

☽◯☾ let the moon settle you ☽◯☾

chapter 3

pairing : finnick odair x black fem!reader

warnings : mention of alcoholism

District 11 - [17-19] - Moon (Victors’ Village)

In the days that followed, you found yourself stuck at home.

Even if your world was paused, everything around you kept moving forward.

It must’ve been 2 or 3 PM when you woke up to the sound of breaking glass and shuffling for afar disturbing your sleep.

Stepping out of bed, walking through the corridor, you made your way to the living room.

With a racing heart, you rushed in the kitchen to investigate, finding your mom amidst a mess of shattered glass, her hands shaking as she tries to clean it up.

"What happened?" you ask, concern evident in your voice as you join her.

Shame fills her eyes as she struggles to contain the chaos, the shards of glass cutting her hands.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to." she stammers, her voice trembling with exasperation.

Noticing the blood trickling from her wounds, you act quickly, guiding her away from the broken glass and gently tending to her injuries. Carefully, you step out and walk away from the mess to go sit on the couch. As you take a look at her hands, you can smell it.

The scent is everywhere, filling the room, crashing through the air.

Maybe you’re not sure, or you don’t wanna admit it to yourself.

But, the thing is, you’ve already faced this too many times to doubt it.

In the street, the whole District, with your dad.

And especially with Chaff.

She was drunk.

"Let me see" you say softly, unfolding her clenched hand.

As you analyze the damages, you can’t help but exhale at the sight

You finish cleaning her wounds, the sharp scent of alcohol lingers in the air, mingling with the antiseptic. With a sigh, you glance at the clock on the wall.

"It's 10 in the morning, Mom. That's really nice," you remark, your tone full with irony.

Still slightly dazed, she shoots you a snappy retort. "No need to be a little shit," she mutters, her words slurred.

Standing up from where you were crouched beside her, you can't help but feel a mixture of frustration and concern.

"What were you trying to do, anyway?" you ask with a huff,, your voice tinged with worry.

Your mother pauses for a moment, her eyes narrowing as if trying to decipher your intentions.

"I was just trying to clean up," she says, her voice dripping with false innocence.

You scoff, not buying her act for a second.

"Cleaning up with a bottle at 10 in the morning? Really setting the bar high, Mom," you reply, your words laced with thinly veiled sarcasm.

She bristles at your remark, her facade slipping for a moment to reveal the simmering anger beneath.

"I don't need judgment, especially from you" she snaps, her tone sharp and defensive.

You roll your eyes, unimpressed by her attempt to deflect blame.

"Of course not, because you're doing such a stellar job on your own," you retort, your voice heavy with disdain.

"What were you really trying to do, Mom?" you ask, your tone softening slightly as you cautiously approach her.

Her eyes flash with indignation, refusing to show any vulnerability.

" Cleaning, just like I said ," she says, her voice tinged with defiance.

You sigh, knowing better than to expect a straight answer from her.

"Well, mission accomplished," you mutter under your breath, unable to hide the bitterness in your voice.

There's a tense silence between you, the air heavy with unspoken resentment.

"I know I messed up" she finally admits, her voice tinged with a hint of regret.

You resist the urge to scoff at her feeble attempt at remorse.

"Yeah, no shit Mom," you spit, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you turn away, unable to bear the weight of her presence any longer.

District 4 - [17-19] - Finnick (Victors’ Village)

As Finnick emerged from the cool embrace of the ocean, his bronzed skin glistening with saltwater, he noticed an old fisherman sitting on the weathered dock nearby. With a friendly smile, he approached the man, drawn to the familiar scent of the sea that clung to his weather-beaten clothes.

"Beautiful day for a swim, isn't it?" Finnick remarked, his voice carrying the easy confidence of someone who had spent their life on the water.

The fisherman looked up, a weathered grin spreading across his face at the sight of the victor.

"Aye, that it is," he replied, nodding towards the shimmering expanse of the ocean. "Nothing like the sea to clear the mind and soothe the soul."

Finnick nodded in agreement, his gaze drifting out towards the horizon where the sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden hue over the water.

"It's like coming home," he mused, the nostalgia evident in his voice.

The old man chuckled knowingly, his eyes twinkling with a wisdom born of years spent at sea.

"Aye, there's no place quite like it," he said, casting his line out into the water with practiced ease.

As the conversation ebbed and flowed like the tide, Todd's weathered eyes wandered over Finnick, lingering on the subtle hints of luxury that clung to his attire.

"You’ve been wandering around there for a while, haven't you?" he remarked, his tone casual but observant.

Finnick nodded, a wry smile playing at the corners of his lips.

"You could say that," he replied, his gaze drifting out towards the distant horizon.

"I spend some time in the Capitol from time to time."

Raising an eyebrow, Todd’s curiosity piqued.

"Ah, the Capitol," he mused, his tone tinged with a mixture of reverence and skepticism. "A world unto itself, they say."

Finnick chuckled softly, a hint of melancholy in his laughter.

"That it is," he agreed, his mind drifting back to the glittering halls and lavish parties of the Capitol elite.

"But sometimes, even the brightest lights cast the darkest shadows."

The fisherman nodded in understanding, his expression thoughtful.

"Aye, that they do," he said, his gaze lingering on Finnick for a moment longer before returning to the gentle sway of the waves.

He nodded knowingly, his gaze drifting back to Finnick.

“You’ve been on the screens a fair bit lately,” he observed, his tone neutral but perceptive. “Seems like you’re a regular fixture in the Capitol.”

Finnick’s smile waned, a pang of regret echoing in his heart.

“It’s… part of the job,” he admitted reluctantly, the weight of Snow’s expectations pressing down on him like an anchor. “But sometimes, I wonder if it’s worth it.”

They sat in companionable silence, the weight of unspoken truths hung heavy in the air.

No matter how far he roamed, Finnick couldn’t help but feel a twinge of interrogation deep within him. Despite years passing, Snow’s grip on his life still felt as tight as ever. He wondered if he would ever truly be free from the clutches of the Capitol, or if Snow would always hold a piece of his youth captive.

And as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink, he realized that even in the company of the sea and the camaraderie of kindred spirits, it was time to go home.

Finnick reluctantly tore himself away from the beach and made his way back home, his footsteps heavy with the weight of his thoughts.

Finnick’s footsteps echoed softly against the wooden planks of Four’s docks as he made his way towards the shoreline.

The salty breeze tousled his hair, carrying with it the familiar scent of the ocean that never failed to soothe his restless soul. Today, however, even the calming embrace of the sea wasn’t enough to ease the worry that gnawed at his heart.

Upon his arrival, he found Mags, the elderly woman, a winner herself who had taken him under her wing after his victory in the Games, sitting in front of the television.

“Mags,” Finnick greeted her with a warm smile, though the concern in his eyes betrayed his attempt at nonchalance.

Mags replied silently by returning his smile with a knowing look. She could see the turmoil that churned beneath his calm exterior, the worry that etched lines into his youthful face.

Setting bags full of fresh fishes that Todd caught earlier today on the table he notices the activity on the screen.

Finnick joined her in front of the television, his gaze fixed on the screen as the Capitol’s channel aired a recap of your interview following your victory in the Games.

He watched intently, his heart aching at the sight of you, knowing that you bore burdens far heavier than any tribute should.

As the interview came to an end, Finnick couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that settled over him. And though he was miles away, he vowed to do whatever it took to ensure that she found the peace and happiness she deserved.

With a heavy sigh, Finnick turned away from the television, his mind already racing with plans to reach out to you.

But before he could gather his thoughts, he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder. Turning around, he saw Mags, gesturing towards a piece of paper in her hand.

With a curious expression, Finnick took the paper from her. And just like the teenager that he was, his heart was racing as he ran in his room under the smiling gaze of the elderly woman and he unfolded it.

(not proofread again im so sorry hdjsissisjsj)

[jojikawa]

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝘽𝙧𝙞𝙙𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝘿𝙞𝙤: 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙍𝙚𝙙 𝙒𝙚𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜 | 𝙋𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙁𝙤𝙪𝙧

WICKED HEARTS

MASTER LIST

Author’s note: This is a POC FRIENDLY blog. I am a black girl and I want to write more fics that don’t leave the reader racially ambiguous. This is self-indulgent and I’m just sharing it with you. Jojo is far from realistic. So, I don’t need to be either. Please don’t leave hate! Thanks!

This is a DARK romance so there will be toxic relationship themes, NSFW themes, descriptions of violence, and gore. There will also be unintentional sexism and racism from the characters toward the reader. The reader is canonically black in this AU but it is written for people from all walks of life to enjoy.

dividers by delishlydelightfuldividers

WORD COUNT: 4.7k

An awkward silence filled the room. You were sitting at the vanity dresser from before, as still as a statue. You were unable to bring yourself to move. You pondered on your situation. Out of everyone in this world, why did you have to be the one in the eyes of Dio? Not in a million years you would have predicted such an outcome. Without even realizing it, you acknowledged your appearance in the mirror. Dio’s rose was still in your hair, which you removed. You lifted your upper lip, inspecting your new fangs. The fangs you penetrated Dio with. 

“What is your name?” You let go of your lip and spoke to the terrified girl in the corner of the room. She was supposed to be helping you into a wedding dress Dio had come across but she was too scared. You didn’t make her help you. Not that you needed any at all.

“A-Aya.” The little girl answered nervously. Her voice was still firm as she tried to hide how scared she was and failed spectacularly. “How did Dio get to you, Aya? Why were you not inside? Did he take you from your home?” You tried to manage your hair, moving as slowly as a snail. This situation was hitting you so hard. What was the future supposed to look like for you? You’re getting married to Dio and there was nothing you could do about it. A part of you felt like he would only be more destructive if you refused. He’s never raised a hand to you but he had no remorse for taking his frustrations out on innocents as a means to an end. 

“I-I was looking for my little brother, P-Poco. He’s always missing curfew and my father asked me to go find him.” She choked out, another cry was coming on. 

You sighed. “Well, Aya, it’s safe to assume that Poco is probably dead.” You bluntly stated, not thinking at all about what you were saying. It was harsh and inconsiderate. This only pushed her to cry. Once you realized what you had done, you stopped trying to fix your hair. You sighed again, getting up out of your chair.

Aya noted that your aura and demeanor didn’t feel as threatening as Dio’s. You looked beautiful in your dress. The fabric was a deep red that made your skin look amazing. The color was as if Dio harvested it from the blood of his enemies. Your hair wasn’t perfect but its messiness almost looked to be intentional. Your soft nature clashed with the razor-sharp teeth that only showed themselves when you talked. “I’m sorry.” You looked at her with half-lidded eyes. “Poco could’ve gotten away or hid. I’m just…bitter.” You informed her. “Now, can you help me get this corset on, please?” You asked politely, voice still laced in sorrow. Aya didn’t need to be a body language expert to see that you weren’t happy at all with your situation. She instantly knew this marriage was forced. 

The girl sheepishly nodded, gaining the courage to finally stand and help you. She assisted with your corsets and layers of fabric. You always imagined yourself being married—just…happier. After spending a long time with Dio when you were young, the only man you could imagine yourself marrying was him. You also imagined yourself wearing something purer like a bright white. Aya helped bring your hair up into a neat updo style, you tucked the clip of the red veil into your hair.

During this whole process, you didn’t speak. Not much or even loudly for that matter. Your replies and directions to the girl were always hushed and hurried. Your body was adjusting to your vampire transformation. Some lights were too bright. Even the light of the moon. Your ears were noticeably more sensitive and you found your eyebrows always being subtly knitted together as your mood became permanently annoyed. The same way one would get when they feel a headache coming on. 

Aya had only just finished helping you before the silence broke. Dio entered the room, his outfit not at all different from before. Perhaps, he felt as if he didn’t need to dress for such an occasion. 

“My goodness. You look so much more beautiful than I could have ever imagined.” Dio made his way towards you, pushing Aya to the side as if she were a peasant getting to close to his trophy. You stayed silent, not at all greeting your soon-to-be husband. He grabbed your face, tilting your head upward so that his lips were only inches away from yours. You held onto his arms as he held you like glass. The man wanted nothing more than to kiss you right here. Oh yes, the idea of kissing the woman he’s been deeply in love with since he were a boy. He knew that women would claw each other’s eyes out to be with someone like him but he wanted you. He thought himself an honorable man for being so loyal during a time he didn’t have to be. 

You averted your eyes, too saddened and nervous I receive his “loving” stare. “I-“ You opened your mouth to speak when he quickly presses his lips to yours. Even with your new vampire strength, Dio still proved to be stronger than you, holding you close and not at all allowing you to resist his love. Almost abruptly, he let you go before licking his lips. “Much more savory than I remember.” Is what he would’ve said if he hadn’t seen the sullen look on your face. It gave him flashbacks to the day the two of you “broke up.” 

Why did you look happy? You’re getting married to him—you should be happy. Overjoyed even. 

“What is wrong with you?” He narrowed his eyes at you. “Don’t you love me?!” He blurted out, startling Aya who was already making herself small in the corner. 

“I do love you do. Or, at least I did.” You whispered sadly. “I barely even know what’s happened to me but I already know it’s permanent.” You removed your hands from his arms, having them retreat back into your body as you hug yourself. “You betray your own father and turned yourself into a monster. You stole my future away from me by turning me into a monster too. Now I’m stuck with you.” Your face began to burn with distress. The air you exhaled was hot like fire as you fought back tears. 

Dio took offense to your words, seeing it more as a plain insult rather than an expression of what he was doing to your psyche.

“Stuck with me!?” He repeated, putting so much emphasis on “stuck” like he was disgusted with your choice of words. “I’ll have you know that any girl born to slave parents would be honored to-“ 

slap!

Dio held his cheek in awe. If one didn’t know any better, they would’ve thought Dio had been stabbed in the heart just now. Never in a million years would he have thought you’d raise a hand to him. You were always so kind, so gentle and so, so very patient with all the vile things he would conjure up in his mind. 

“Don’t talk about my parents.” Your voice cut him like swords and your eyes burned holes into his body, stronger than any amount of Hamon ever could. All Dio could do was stare at you, his eyes were now doe-like, reminiscing at how you used to be and what you could’ve been if it weren’t for him. “If it weren’t for my father, you wouldn’t even know me.”

Dio only knew a little bit about your father. You rarely spoke of him, but he remembered the story you told him all that time ago. Your parents were slaves. Your father wanted a better life for his pregnant wife and worked himself to death, buying her freedom. Even then, it still wasn’t enough. The Pendletons took you off the streets.

“You will NOT do that again.” Dio declared. It was hard for him to be angry because he was beginning to realize that he liked it when you would raise your voice at him. “You are lucky that I am above hitting women.” He hissed before turning on his heel and leaving the room. When his presence was gone, you sighed. It felt like you had been holding your breath forever. You didn’t know what came over you. You didn’t want to be like him and react with violence. You also forgot that Aya was still in the room. “Aya, after the wedding, I will get you out of here.” You suddenly said. “Now, come.” You directed her to take the long end of your dress and hold it as you walk. The girl obeyed. 

As you exited the room, waiting for you was a disfigured creature. It meekly held a bouquet of flowers. You took it from…it before continuing on your way to find Dio. He disappeared rather quickly. “Wh-Where is your master?” You questioned it, trying not to show the fear you harbored for its appearance. 

“Lord Dio waits for you.”

Its voice made you sick to your stomach, reminding you that you were speaking to something that was no longer human and craved flesh specifically. “Take me to him.” You replied lowly, trying to match Dio’s energy and commanding them the way he would. You turned to Aya before saying “Stay in the room. I will come and get you as soon as I can.” You promised her with pleading eyes. The girl shuddered and grimaced at your request. The girl reluctantly nodded. She didn’t like the idea but she had to trust you. 

The creature did as you asked. As you followed, you thought of all the possible ways you could get Aya away. You didn’t want a child slave. No child should be a slave at all, let alone a slave for you. You knew what it was like. Going along with Dio’s marriage was your only hope of bringing some clarity to this situation. Perhaps, as his wife, you could talk some sense into him? Let the girl go, you’d tell him. Get rid of these monsters, you would say. 

But it was all just your way of coping. There was no way to get ahold of Dio. 

As you entered the room, your heart felt like it was frozen as you held your breath. Your mind was still back in that dark room, combing your pretty hair with your pretty white dress. 

Or was it red?

“I always knew red would make a better color on you.” 

His sly voice reached your ears, pulling you back to reality. Within a second, Dio was only inches away from you. His hands inspected your curves. The tips of his claws brushed the thin thread that held your corset together. They traced up to your bust where, again, your chest was practically bursting in the small corset that you were given. “This looks tight.” Dio growled at you with a grin. “I must loosen it for you.” His claw tugged at the ribbon that held your top together with your bottom. You narrowed your eyes. “Dio.” You placed a hand on your chest, preventing him from going any further. “Let’s just have the wedding.” You said quickly.

The room wasn’t elegant enough for a wedding and nor was the castle. The fire burned bright in the corners of the room but it was nothing compared to the moonlight that illuminated your features in the night.

“Eager to be my bride? You never cease to amaze me.” Dio took your hand in his. He imagined himself as the ultimate prince—no, God, finally claiming what would be his forever. “I’ve given you a gift no man ever could. Your beauty will forever be eternalized. What we had as children can transcend the bonds of time…”

You listened to Dio ramble about his “love” for you. It was hard to believe this was even real. You kept hoping that you’d wake up and then scold yourself for sleeping for so long. Then you would ponder on why you’d have such a vivid dream. 

“But I have one more question. You must answer honestly if you intend on being my wife and carrying my seed.” Dio brought his index finger and thumb to your chin. He made you look up at him, baring his fangs at you. “What is it, Dio?” Your eyes began half-lidded. Your mind almost left the conversation again before he spoke.

“Were you in love with Jonathan at all?” 

Your eyes narrowed. “Wha-“

Dio’s voice deepened. “Did you ever love him?” You looked into his eyes. He was serious. Was he…jealous?

“No, I was never in love with Jonathan. Nor was he with me.” You answered, honestly. “He was always in love with Erina.” You added. Dio let go of you. He remembered the time Jonathan let it slip that you had taken care of him after his fight with him. He saw you come to his football game, cheering for Jonathan of all people. Hanging off of his arm as if you belonged to someone else. 

“As you say.” Dio took a step away from you. “Bring me our rings,” Dio commanded the fused monsters around him. A disfigured zombie with no jaw and rotting skin brought Dio the two small pieces of jewelry. “Who did you steal these from?” You asked innocently. Your goal wasn’t to offend him but it was Dio. He was always offended. “I didn’t steal them. I had them made. What do you take me for?” Dio slipped the ring onto his finger. You purse your lips, preventing yourself from retaliating any further. Talking to him was…so hard now. It wasn’t the same. It could never be. 

Dio hesitantly reached for your dainty hand. He rehearsed this moment in his head for such a long time, even before the mask. He wanted nothing more than to finally have. Words couldn’t describe the euphoric feeling that ran through him. The anxiety that once would get when first confessing their love. It was something that was so foreign to him, yet so pleasant. His thumb rubbed the back of your hand only for a moment before he gently placed the diamond ring on your finger. It sparked in the moonlight and could even glow in the shade. Though his wedding band was dull, Dio did not care. As long as it was clear you were taken.

Your absentmindedness came to a halt when Dio saw that you were closing the distance between the two of you. You avoided eye content, keeping your gaze downward as you motioned him to bend down. His height on you would always cause an issue for you. When he complied, you meekly pressed your lips against his for a chasté kiss. The thoughtful act only lasted a moment before you pulled away, but Dio wanted more. All he wanted was more of your love. His arms trapped you, bringing you into another kiss. It was like your lips were candy, but these could’ve been his imagination. Your lips were better than any candy he’s ever had. 

Suddenly, the only door in the room was forced open. Dio gasped—jumped at the sound. He let go of you, bringing his full attention to the intruder. It was…

“Jonathan?” You called out softly, utter shock filling your body. Dio blocked your vision with his huge body. “I’m back from my time in hell, Dio.” Jonathan invited himself inside. It wasn’t until then he noticed you. “(y/n)?! You’re alive!” Then the man furrowed his eyebrows. “Damn you, Dio!” He cried. “Let that fair maiden go! I thought she was dead because of you! All of London thinks she’s dead!”

“Still as loud as always, Jonathan.” Dio forced his cool demeanor to now show weakness. “You dare not speak to her, as I am her God now. The world is better off not looking for her.” He grinned at JoJo. “I see that you are also alive now, that’s curious, isn’t it?” Dio stepped towards JoJo. A batch of creatures dropped from the ceiling, surrounding you so that Jonathan has no quick way of getting to you. “But I suppose that indicates that you’ve defeated my two knights.”

“Dio!” Jonathan growled, preparing himself to finally fight this cursed man. “No! Jonathan! Don’t come any closer!” You warned. “These creatures are undead! Dio is a monster!” You tried to push your way past the hellspawn but they seemed to have orders from Dio to keep you from leaving. 

“Don’t worry, (y/n). Jonathan is mine and mine alone. I’ll kill JoJo and you’ll finally see him for how pathetic he really is.” Dio’s smirk faded. “But I will take no pleasure in doing so, as we were raised under the same roof. But before I do, I must ask you one question.”

For a moment, Jonathan looked perplexed. He was not the smartest JoJo, but even with critical thinking, he couldn’t think of any reason why Dio would want to ask him something at a time like this. 

“No, Dio-“

“At any point, did you ever have feelings for someone other than airheaded Erina? (y/n), perhaps?” Dio cupped his hand around his ear, pointing it towards Jonathan as he waited for his answer. This only made JoJo much more angry!

“The only woman I’ve ever loved is Erina!” He shouted, clenching fists as Hamon sparked out. Jonathan wasn’t completely oblivious; he knew Dio was always jealous of his friendship with you. 

“Do you know what I think JoJo? I think you’ve lied for the last time.” Dio crossed his arms. “When I look into the eyes of my beloved, I see the truth. When I look into yours, I see a boy who’s torn…” 

Behind Jonathan emerge more people. People you didn’t recognize. These were the others that JoJo was traveling with. They were a rather strange lot of characters, but anyone other than Dio was a blessing. You just were unable to understand how any human could get out of this situation alive. 

Much to your horror, the humans fought Dio. The first man, Dire, died attempting to deal the first blow to the vampire man. Dio displayed powers you had never seen before. He could freeze his victims with just a touch. Even though his clothes, if he touched you then he could free you. Dire was just a head now. He used the last of his hamon to fill a rose with it before spitting it at Dio. That was when you realized something. Something important. All this time, you’ve been shying away from Dio. As children, he was bigger than you; stronger as well. When the two of you grew up, he got even bigger while you remained small and needed to be protected. Men always preferred women to be this way. They were easier to control. 

But now, things are different. You possessed the strength of a dozen men. All the things Dio could do, you were able to do as well. If your husband couldn’t listen to reason and thought of himself as God, then you needed to be his adversary. It was the only option left for the sake of your loved ones. How could you face your best friend and the family that helped raise you if they knew you didn’t stop Dio from killing her lover? Hell, you wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself. 

Dio was distracted now, going on about how the rose Dire launched injured his eye. In a swift motion, you used all of your strength to strike the monsters holding you back. You cleaved all of their heads off at once and they fell to the ground with an audible thud. You helped the humans as Jonathan fought Dio. 

It was like a blur. Jonathan didn’t allow you to help defeat Dio. He didn’t believe that such a fair maid had to see such a thing, to begin with. The man defeated his vampire adversary. JoJo removed his head with his sword, causing Dio to cry out. 

As Dio fell from the balcony, his body began to crumble from being filled with hamon. You ran over to the edge, not at all believing what you were seeing. Yet, it was true.

Dio even called out to you. The sound of his dying words gave you goosebumps. You couldn’t help but tear up. Why did things have to be this way? Could this have been prevented if you just stayed with Dio? Was this blood now on your hands?

“(y/n)…” Jonathan called breathlessly. He was tired from the battle. He fought someone who was no longer human by the way. “Jonathan!” You ran over to him. He looked like he was about to collapse. The young man examined your face and the pain that washed over him was indescribable. His eyes watered up before tears effortlessly streamed down his face. “(y/n)…” his voice was uneven and he dropped to his knees. “I couldn’t protect you from Dio! I’m sorry!” He cried. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes. “Oh, Jonathan.” You kneeled down to hug him. “There was no way you could’ve known.” 

Behind JoJo, you saw the human men approach the two of you. They seemed to have similar powers that allowed them to take out the zombies easily. Their eyes burned with a fiery passion that was stronger than any hamon. “It’s best that we put an end to all that’s left of the mask.” The young man with long black hair said. JoJo struggled on his own but he gained the strength to shield you from them. “No! You can’t kill! She’s my friend!” He shouted, holding you close to his big chest. “J-Jonathan! It’s okay. You don’t have to protect me.” You squeeze your eyes shut.

A different man stepped forward, this one wearing a funny top hat with a scar on his face. “But it’s just a lady! She can’t be as evil as Dio, can she?” His voice was shaky as he had witnessed Dio’s carnage firsthand. The last thing he wanted to believe was that there would be another version of Dio. The revenge of a widow? No thank you!

“She is Dio’s bride. There’s no use in keeping loose ends.” The older man took a step closer. 

“I swear, I’m not like Dio. I didn’t ask him to use the mask on me!” You shouted. “I’ve known her since I was a boy. I take full responsibility! Just don’t-“ before the young man could finish, he passed out. Your eyes widened. You felt his breathing slow. He passed out!

The man with the top hat ran over to pull Jonathan off of you. “He’s worn out. JoJo’s been in more fatal fights tonight than a man should have in his lifetime!” The man said. “The name’s Robert E.O. Speedwagon, but you can shave off the first part and just call me Speedwagon.” He held out his hand for you to take it. You hesitated but you had no choice. “Er…Speedwagon.” You repeated to get used to the name. You stayed close to him since you were still afraid of the foreign hamon users. You felt like introducing yourself would put them at ease. They weren’t gonna kill you, right?

“My name (y/n) (l/n). Dio kidnapped me just after the Joestar mansion fell.” You began to explain. Already, it didn’t seem like they care all. All except for Speedwagon. He perked up at the sound of your name. “JoJo’s told me a lot about you! All of London thought you were dead, but Jonathan here knew that Dio got you once we knew the bastard lived through that fire!”

“Fire?” You repeated. “Were you there? Can you please tell me what happened that night?” You tugged at the man’s arm. Was it inappropriate for him to admit that he found you extremely attractive? 

Yes.

“Y-Yes, I was there. I met Jonathan that night as well. Dio was supposed to be arrested for the poisoning of George Joestar but then he used the mask and killed everyone except me and Jonathan. We had no choice but to set the house on fire.” Speedwagon noticed that with every word, the pain on your face became more apparent. “S-So, it’s true?” Your voice pitched up with sorrow as you accepted that Dio was a monster before he used the mask on himself. 

Due to Jonathan’s pleas and Speedwagon’s charisma, the Hamon masters spared you. Despite that being good news, the overwhelming hold in your heart would never easily recover from such a terrible circumstance. You’ve witnessed more death than any human should and even got to see the hybrid creatures that used to be people as well. You returned to Erina but only for a little while. The girl greeted you with open arms, balling her eyes out at the sight of you being unharmed. 

Then she saw your attire. You now adorned all black, wearing a black dress that covered your skin, leaving everything to the imagination. You had also been wearing an oversized Victorian bonnet that cast a shadow over your face, leaving only your eyes to be seen. They were different too, glowing bright red and festering with hunger. Somehow, the news of your transformation hit harder than the news of your supposed death. Now you could never rest as a creature of the night. 

You stuck around for the wedding of Jonathan and Erina. You were the best maid along with Speedwagon was the best man. You could sense him making his advances toward you but you’d always snuff out any ideas he may have gotten about you. It was quite humorous, actually. 

The couple planned to sail to the United States. You supported her decision and waved them goodbye as their ship set off. It took some thinking, but you came to the conclusion that you wanted to be a singer. There was no realistic way you could return to your previous occupation as the owner of Sweet Magnolia. The last thing you wanted was to resume things after that experience. 

Plus, it would be extremely hard to explain your reappearance after being declared dead. Your new life was overwhelming at first but perhaps it could be the beginning of something exciting. You could do…anything you wanted.

Anything. 

Your mother used to tell you that you’d have a good singing voice. It was the only way you could occupy yourself while doing chores back at the Pendleton mansion. Now it was time to test such a thing. What level of fame could one woman achieve with all the time in the world to practice and perform? Your career started slow. Not many people wanted to hear a woman they had never heard of before, but within a few years, you were able to perform at small gatherings for the first time. Networking proved to be a challenge but you began using your looks and wits as a way of convincing others. There was no longer an underlying fear of being attacked or harassed because of your new power. You felt like a queen who was taking in the world. Although, you knew better than to abuse your powers. You were still a good woman at heart. 

The horrors that caused the death of Jonathan Joestar didn’t reach you until it had long passed. Speedwagon found successful after also traveling to the United States. He became a wealthy man with his share of oil. He had men from his new organization send you an old letter from Erina along with the news that Jonathan has died.

“Dear (y/n),

This is Erina. I don’t know when I will be able to get this to you but when you receive it, please come to New York right away. The day Jonathan and I left for the Americas, the ship was attacked. Dio came back and was able to turn members of the crew into hideous monsters. Jonathan died protecting me. Now, I’m alone.

I’ve now seen the horrible things Dio has forced you to witness. I can’t be alone. I know that all you want to do now is leave your old life behind, but I need you.

-Erina.”

Tag list: @z3r0art ❤️

Hi guys! Like all my other stuff, this is not proofread very well. This is all for fun so I’m sorry if my writing style sucks lol

I’m also sorry for this part coming out much later than the other parts. I’ve been doing a lot of irl things to further my education in writing. I wanna write for video games and I honestly would love to be apart of the Riot Games team. I qualify to be a narrative writer for Legends of Runterra but I must live in Los Angeles…I don’t live there XD so yea. But I’m gonna keep improving. But yea that’s why I’ve been busy. I’ve been writing a lot of stuff that’s not for tumblr haha.

Up next will be the retelling of Stardust Crusaders. It’s supposed to be more sexually explicit than Phantom Blood bc I imagine Dio’s perspective of being a gentleman changes. Before I begin releasing that part, I’ll make an interlude telling the story of the female MC before Dio inevitably comes back with Jonathan’s body ❤️

See you guys soon! Thank you so much for all of your support! 💕

[jaxteller87]

halloween riot

The bar was buzzing. Bodies pressed together, a sea of leather cuts, laughter, and the low hum of tension that came with a gathering of outlaws. It was Halloween at the clubhouse, and I couldn’t help but glance at Jax every few minutes, smirking to myself. Dressed as Beetlejuice, his slicked-back hair dyed a neon green, the black and white striped suit clinging to his frame, he looked too good for words.

I adjusted the veil of my Lydia costume, the lace brushing my cheek as I sipped my drink. “You know,” I teased, nudging Jax with my elbow, “next year, we should make it a private party. You in that genie costume…” I trailed off, letting the suggestion hang in.

He chuckled, that deep, lazy laugh of his. “You want a Halloween for two, huh? Genie and sexy Lydia?”

I shrugged, trying to play it cool even though the thought of him in that ridiculous genie costume of his still made me blush.

As we walked toward the Mrs. VP table, I spotted Donna and Opie. Donna had gone all out as the Bride of Frankenstein— her dark hair piled high with white streaks shooting through it, a long, tattered gown that gave her an otherworldly beauty. Opie was her monster, his broad shoulders covered in fake stitches, green face paint adding a sickly hue to his usual intensity. He towered over her like some grotesque protector.

“Nice to see someone went as a classic pair,” I said, taking a seat next to Donna.

Opie raised his beer in a silent toast before taking a swig. “Figured we’d stick to tradition. Couldn’t let you and Jax steal all the attention.”

I laughed and was about to respond when a low, collective groan rose from the table.

“Oh no…” we all said in unison, our eyes locking on the unfortunate couple who had just walked in. They were dressed as Raggedy Ann and Andy—pale faces, red yarn hair, button eyes.

“Where’s Tig?” I whispered, feeling the dread settle in.

“Hopefully somewhere with Venus, far away from this nightmare,” Opie muttered, his lips barely moving as he took another sip of his beer.

Ratboy plopped down beside Donna, dressed as a…well…a rat. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“There’s a couple dressed up like dolls,” I replied.

Ratboy blinked. “So?”

Donna shot him a look, and Opie gave a slow shake of his head. I couldn’t believe we were explaining this again. “Tig, man. Those people are dressed as dolls.”

He snatched a beer off a passing waitress’s tray. “Dolls? So what? They’re just—”

“Tell me you’re new here without telling me you’re new here,” I rolled my eyes.

Opie smirked as he caught my expression. “Tig’s got something called pediophobia,” I said quietly, “It’s a fear of dolls. His case is bad, man. Like, real bad. He told me once—after a few too many beers—that just the sight of them sends him into a full-blown panic.”

Opie raised an eyebrow. “There’s a name for it?”

“Yeah,” I nodded, “I looked it up after he told me. Trust me, we need to keep him as far away from those two as possible. For their safety, at least.”

Jax had caught on by now, his eyes flicking between us and the couple in red-and-white costumes. 

Is this gonna be a problem? I wondered.

“I’ll go see if I can find him, maybe point him in another direction or something.” Jax kissed my forehead and strolled off into the masses.

The room was loud, the clinking of glasses and the steady beat of music drowning out most conversations, but there was a subtle shift in energy. Everyone was still having a good time, but the club was always mindful of its own—especially Tiggy. The last thing anyone needed was a full-blown meltdown in the middle of a Halloween gathering.

I looked around, finally realizing how packed the place was. “Where did all these people come from?” I muttered, more to myself than anyone else. The place was swarming with faces I didn’t recognize—friends of friends, locals, people we had somehow absorbed into the chaos over the years. The only way I could spot Jax now was his bright green hair poking out above the crowd.

I had just taken a breath, trying to settle into the music and chatter, when Tig strutted into the room, and I swear the entire place paused. Dressed head to toe in a skimpy black Playboy bunny costume, complete with fishnets and a fluffy tail, he didn’t just own the look—he became it. The guy had no shame, and it was one of the many things we all loved about him. The club erupted in a mix of laughter and why wouldn’t it? Tiggy was most certainly a sight for sore eyes…a maybe a sight that made eyes sore? One of the two.

“Jesus Christ,” Opie muttered, shaking his head.

Tig swaggered over to the bar, completely at ease in his getup. He turned, flaunting his fluffy tail with a flick of his hips. “Well? What do you think, boys?” he shouted over the music, striking a pose. “Anyone looking for a date to take home?”

Chibs, who’d been leaning against the bar, barely holding in a laugh, raised his glass. “Ya look like ya belong in a Hugh Hefner calendar, Tiggy.”

Without missing a beat, Tig winked. “Damn right. They’re doin’ a whole spread on me…all I gotta do is spread for them if you catch my drift.”

“Unfortunately, we do,” Donna gagged.

The banter kept coming, but Tig just took it all in stride, enjoying the attention. That was until someone—some poor soul—accidentally bumped into him while dancing. I could see it happen in slow motion, the awkward shuffle of a man in red yarn hair.

Raggedy Andy.

I held my breath. I knew where this was headed before it even began.

Tig turned slowly. The man who now stood a bit too close for comfort was inches from the Playboy Bunny Bombshell— There was a beat of silence. Andy, oblivious, raised his hands in apology. “Hey, man, sorry about that. Didn’t see you there.”

Tig blinked once, then twice. His lips curved into a smile, but not the kind that said everything was okay. “Didn’t see me there? You didn’t see me there?” he repeated, voice low and dangerous.

“Yeah, yeah. My bad,” Andy said, trying to play it cool. He was already backing away, probably sensing he’d made a mistake.

“Lemme ask you something,” Tig said, his voice getting tighter. “What’s it like, you know… living life like a goddamn doll?” 

Andy froze, a confused smile flickering on his face. “What?”

I shot Jax a look, but before either of us could move, Tig’s fist came out of nowhere. The punch landed square in the guy’s jaw with a sickening thud. Andy stumbled backward, crashing into the nearby table, knocking over drinks, and sending glass shattering to the floor.

The whole room noticed…obviously.

It only took a second for Raggedy Anne, wide-eyed and horrified, to rush over and try to put herself between Tig and her dazed date. “Hey! Back off!” she cried, throwing her hands up, trying to shield Andy.

But Tig was far beyond reason. The sight of her—the doll-like dress, the makeup—had triggered him. Without warning, he lunged forward and headbutted her hard.

Anne fell back, holding her face in shock, a tiny stream of blood dripping from her nose. 

“You’re crazy!” Andy shrieked, crawling to his date.

A small scuffle broke out—not really surprised about that. Club members looking for a fight jumped to their feet, ready to intervene or escalate. The table nearest to us was knocked over, and before I knew it, chairs were skidding across the floor. 

Jax and Opie were already in motion, closing the distance before it could spiral further out of control. Opie grabbed Tig by the shoulders, physically pulling him back as Jax stood between him and the dazed couple. “Enough!” Jax barked.

Tig struggled against Opie’s grip, his breathing heavy, but he didn’t resist for long. “She’s a goddamn doll, Jax,” he growled as if that explained everything.

Jax shot him a warning look. “Not tonight, brother.”

Anne and Andy, looking more embarrassed than injured, stumbled toward the exit, disappearing outside without so much as a backward glance. It was over in minutes, but the tension lingered like a hangover. The room slowly returned to normal, conversations picking up again as people tried to shake off what had just happened.

“Where the hell did all these people come from?” I muttered again, still baffled by the sheer number of bodies packed into the clubhouse. It was a party, sure, but I didn’t recognize half the faces here.

Jax leaned over, pressing a kiss to my temple. “Don’t worry, babe. I got it under control.”

He always said that. And I always believed him. Until the next thing happened. And, like clockwork, the next thing always happened.

The sound cut through the night like a siren—the unmistakable screech of tires, the roar of motorcycles. Everyone stopped. It wasn’t the Sons’ bikes. These were lighter faster. Crotch rockets— also known as bikes that weren’t welcome here.

My stomach twisted as the noise grew louder and closer. “This isn’t good,” I said, my voice low.

Jax and Opie exchanged a look, then nodded toward Chibs, Happy, and Ratboy, who were already making their way toward the door. Chibs, calm and calculating as always, had his hand already resting on his gun. Happy, cracked his knuckles, always ready for a fight. And Ratboy, well—his loyalty was never in question, but he still had that edge of nervousness, that uncertainty that only time in the club would shake.

Jax paused just long enough to meet my eyes. “Stay here.”

I nodded, but we both knew that was just a formality.

The heavy wooden doors swung open, and they stepped out into the cold air as the sound of the engines ripped through the lot.

“A rival club?” Ratboy muttered.

Opie shook his head. “This ain’t no rival because they ain’t no real club. It’s a pop-up group.”

Chibs nodded. “Aye…Wannabes.”

A pop-up club was the worst kind of poser—a group of guys who slapped on some store-bought vests, embroidered their own patches, and pretended to be something they weren’t. It was the fastest way to catch an ass-beating from any real MC, especially outlaw clubs like the Sons. They didn’t have the rights, the respect, or the permissions that come with the territory of being a club. Just cheap imitations playing dress-up in a world they didn’t belong in. It was like throwing gasoline on a fire and then standing too close to it.

“Dumb question,” Donna asked, looking around the lot, “but is this a bad thing, right?”

Opie glanced at her, then back at the group of bikers revving their engines across from us. “For them.”

The pop-up club—maybe a dozen or so guys—had lined up their bikes like they were trying to make a statement, but their patches were all wrong. None of them matched. It was like they’d bought them from a Halloween store, each guy rocking something different like they hadn’t figured out what they stood for yet.

One of their guys, the tallest, maybe their President, stepped forward. He had this cocky look on his face like he thought showing up here was the smart move. “We got a call,” he said, loud enough for everyone in the lot to hear. “Heard one of your boys likes to pick on girls. That true?”

Tig stiffened next to Opie. The Raggedy couple must’ve called these idiots in for backup, and now this was about to blow up. Before Jax could say a word, Tig took a step forward. “She’s dressed up like a goddamn doll,” he spat.

“Seems to me like you got a problem with people in costumes,” their President barked.

Oh, hell. I could see it coming a mile away.

Before I could react, one of the pop-up guys—probably drunk or just too stupid to know better—made the mistake of getting too close to Juice, who was standing a few feet from me, cracking his knuckles. He was mid-swing before anyone could stop him. A solid right hook straight to the guy’s jaw, and just like that, the powder keg exploded.

Bikes screeched as Sons and wannabes clashed in the middle of the lot. Opie and Jax were already in the fray, fists flying, as bodies slammed into bikes and concrete—punches, grunts, the crunch of knuckles meeting flesh.

I could hear Tig laughing like a madman as he shoved one of the pop-up guys into a nearby dumpster. “You think you can roll up on us?” Tig shouted, swinging wildly. “You don’t even know who the hell you’re messing with! I will skull fuck the shit out of you!”

It was over almost as fast as it started. The pop-up club didn’t stand a chance. For every wannabe swinging, there was a Son there to put him down. Opie landed a brutal punch to some guy’s gut, doubling him over, and he puked everywhere. Chibs effortlessly dodged a wild swing, retaliating with a knee to the ribs—and I never heard ribs break before, but I sure as shit heard it then. Ratboy went into a scuffle, 2 of them on him, and he came out of it with someone’s ear in his mouth.

Within minutes, the pop-up bikers were staggering, trying to crawl back to their bikes. They were bruised embarrassed, and quickly realized they’d bitten off way more than they could chew. To make matters more embarrassing for them, the Sons managed to strip them all of their vests, sending them home in bloody, torn-up t-shirts.

The Raggedy Ann and Andy couple, still smarting from their earlier run-in with Tig, were huddled near the back of the group. As soon as they saw their fake-ass friends get dismantled, they bolted.

“They were with them,” I muttered, piecing it together. “The dolls called these idiots.”

Jax wiped a bit of blood from his lip and nodded. “Guess they didn’t like Tig’s introduction.”

Just then, a deep voice cut through the lot. “What the hell’s going on here?” Clay strode out from the clubhouse, wearing a Superman suit that, despite the ridiculous cape, somehow managed to make him look just as intimidating as ever.

“We got a new club,” Ratboy said, his voice dry with amusement. “Didn’t get the memo on the rules.”

Clay glanced at the retreating bikes and then at the vests, the boys snatched. “Ah…Posers. Got some intel on ‘em earlier today. Piney saw them just outside of Charming when he left the dispensary. No real connections, just a bunch of assholes trying to play club.”

Jax nodded. “Guess we’ll have to teach ‘em how this works.”

Clay crossed his arms. “Guess so. Enjoy the party first. But when this is over, we’re going trick or treating.”

Happy smiled menacingly. “Looking forward to it.”

I smiled, watching Jax walk toward me through the sea of people, the green hair of his Beetlejuice costume making him stand out even more so than usual.

“There’s my Beetlejuice,” I beamed, my heart lightening at the sight of him.

Jax slipped an arm around me, leaning down to whisper in my ear, “I’m hoping to make you say my name three times later.”

I flushed, biting my lip. “Oh, Teller…”

He sat down beside me. We were all just sitting there, letting the adrenaline fade, the party slowly winding back up. But someone was always keeping an eye on Tig. The guy might’ve been calm for now, but he was never really out of the woods.

A sudden burst of laughter from the other side of the room caught my attention. I turned just in time to see Bobby—dressed as Elvis, of course—belting out a karaoke tune with Juice and Tig as his backup dancers. The sight of Bobby shaking his hips in a rhinestone jumpsuit was too much, and I burst out laughing. Juice dressed up as an 80s pop star was kind of fitting, too.

Jax glanced over, shaking his head in disbelief. “Oh, shit, Opes. This is our jam.”

Opie hammered his beer, slamming it on the table. “It is.”

And just like that, Bobby had four backup singers. What a way to close out a Halloween riot.

[dualdeixis]

[Image description: Digital drawings featuring a variety of characters from Octopath Traveler. There are full descriptions of all images under the cut. End image description.]

you know what? octopath is the only game i’ve ever played that accurately depicts what happens when you eat an olive. thank you octopath

[Image description: First is a drawing of Primrose, Ophilia, Kit, and Lyblac, with certain aspects of their designs altered. Primrose steps forward in a beguiling pose. She wears a red dress with a short, layered front and a long, flowing back. She wears gold jewelry including three rings on her right hand, a headband with a flower adornment, and a belt around her waist. Her knife is strapped to her right thigh and she wears medieval women's knee-high hose, black with red garters, beneath her sandals. A note next to her reads, "Elements taken from 15th century Italian illustration of dancers." Ophilia holds up her staff. A long lace veil covers her head and is tied beneath her chin. She wears a brooch on the left side of her cloak. The notes next to her read, "Mourning veil worn for varying lengths of time depending on relation (parent = 1 year). Mourning brooch of braided hair worn indefinitely by choice." Kit's design is much the same. He looks with slight wonder over at Lyblac, who stands tall with her hands clasped and a blood red halo around her head. She wears a black escoffion and a black and red houppelande with dagged sleeves.

Second is a drawing of Mattias, Esmeralda, and Lianna, with certain aspects of their designs altered. A note above Mattias and Esmeralda reads, "Obsidian fashion is ahead of the times (entirely because I mistook Mattias's sprite as having a ruff)." Along with the ruffs around his neck and wrists, Mattias wears a yellow doublet, orange jerkin, a gold necklace with a red jewel pendant, black paned trunkhose, a blue cape with a pattern of yellow stars, and a black cap with a blue feather. He has a confident expression, with one hand on his hip and the other splayed outwards. The note next to him reads, "If he's posing as a merchant he needs a stupid little hat and plume." Esmeralda holds up a black dagger in one hand and clenches the other into a fist with an irritated expression. She wears a French hood, a black gown with slashed sleeves, and gold jewelry around her neck and waist. The gown's skirt is full on the left side, layered and translucent in the middle, and has a slit on the right side to show the crow tattoo on her thigh. The note next to it reads, "Put it back." Then it points to Mattias's left leg and says, "He has it too." Lianna has a neutral expression as she holds up Aelfric's Lanthorn with a dark flame burning within. She wears the robes of a vestal of Galdera. The note next to her reads, "Love how he made her a special little anti-cleric outfit (takes off mourning veil)."

Third is a drawing of Alfyn smiling in profile, showing off his messy, dirty blonde hair with the sides shaved. To the right is a bouquet of seven white lilies. The text above them reads (in all caps), "Donio sam ja sedam ljiljana / Majko da li znaš još sam sam / Majko da li znaš još sam sam / Spava malena slatka glavica / Majko pokrila mi je travica / Majko pokrila mi je travica."

Fourth is a collection of doodles. 1. Lyblac and Kit stand in front of the Gate of Finis. Kit asks, "what are u trying to say." Lyblac points to the Gate with a smile and says, "go here." Kit asks, "in the dark ?" Lyblac says, "go in the dark." 2. Galdera says, "AND I'M BAD!" The souls around the Omniscient Eye say, "MEAN!! GREEN!! BAD!!" 3. To the left, Therion holds up a pair of rivet spectacles to his eye. To the right, he wears a paisley-patterned headscarf and a chador over it with a small smile. The text reads, "His chador swag. Based on an outfit my friend saw me wearing in a dream cuz I thought he'd look cute in it." 4. Two anthropomorphic birds wear cloaks and hold up staves. The first one has a neutral expression and the second looks more aggressive. The text reads, "My brother mistook Believer I + II in Seaside Grotto for bird people and now I wish they really were bird people." 5. A screenshot of a post by user tlirsgender: "Consider: a gay dude and a lesbian who are BEST friends and also dating the same person but not each other because they are a gay dude and a lesbian but their mutual partner has a weird enough gender for it to work. Polycule that’s lgbt like all at once." Beneath it, Alfyn and Primrose happily shake hands while Therion stands in the background with a neutral expression. The note next to them reads, "This concept is so funny to me that it kinda loops around to being compelling." 6. Cyrus smiles and quirks one eyebrow while pointing upwards. The text reads, "LOVE IS IN THE AIR? / WRONG! LIGHTNING BLAST." 7. Primrose leans back on a counter and Therion sits on a stool with his hands clasped. Both look miserable and share a thought bubble which says, "I'm the only bitch here who's incapable of love and sincerity." They glance at each other curiously, and then return to being miserable and sharing a thought bubble which says, "Nah I'm way more sick and twisted than you."

Last is a comic. In the midst of a battle, Ophilia holds up her staff and does 719 damage; Cyrus holds up a tome and does one hit of 1284 damage and another of 1365 damage; and Alfyn holds up his axe and does 649 damage. One enemy remains: a Creeping Treant with one shield and vulnerabilities to axe and fire. In the foreground, Therion says, "Alright..." He prepares a full-boosted Wildfire and says, "Time to end this." Cyrus shuts his tome and says blithely, "I think not. You shall do exactly 2 damage." Ophilia holds a hand over her mouth and blushes, saying, "Oh my, is the Professor teasing?" Alfyn laughs, "Pff, c'mon now, Therion knows what he's doin'!" Therion uses Wildfire on the Treant and breaks it, doing 2 damage. Therion, Alfyn, and Ophilia stand lined up and look very startled, while Cyrus smiles mildly and thinks, "Oh wow, for real? I literally just said that for no reason." The note beneath the comic reads, "*Based on a true story where I was Therion and my brother was Cyrus. I laughed so hard I cried." End image description.]