#literally i did a primal scream

[unganseylike]

undergrad research assistants are literally the least respected people ive been working in my lab for since 2020 and am trying to do my fucking senior thesis and now that a new first year grad student joined i no longer have a fucking desk of my own or a designated workspace. how do they expect me to work for $0 and do important research without a fucking place to do my work i am literally exploding

[guiltyasdave]

help me hold onto you

pairing: Logan Howlett/Wolverine x mutant! f!reader

word count: ~3.5k

summary: Logan deals with feeling guilty after he's accidentally cut you with his claws in his sleep.

warnings/tags: explicit smut (-> 18+ only!), able-bodied reader, reader has hair that can be pulled, no use of y/n, Logan lifts reader up but he's superhumanly strong, so-, graphic description of an injury, graphic description of violence, angst, nightmares, Logan's pov, fighting as foreplay, unprotected p in v, rough sex, biting, praise kink, a lot of animalistic behavior due to their mutations, like they're just a little... primal, it's cute i swear, also reader looks like a human being it's just the mannerisms, fluff

a/n: guess i'm a multi fandom writer now? this literally came to me in a fever dream, very much like the logan brainrot itself lol. this is my first time writing for the man, after watching the movies - also for the first time - last week, so please be gentle with me <3 something very similar happens in the origins movie and i wanted them to explore that more, but alas, i had to do it myself.

massive thanks to @kiwisbell for assuring me that this idea isn't terrible and for freaking out about logan with me in general, to @catchallfangirl for coming up with the whole cat theme and for being so supportive, to @sizzlingcloudmentality for matching my freak and taking the cat theme to the next level, for helping me plot and for being an amazing beta reader, and to @javier-pena for listening to me rant about this idea and being so lovely and supportive <3

dividers by @saradika-graphics who is a queen <3

notifications blog -> @guiltyasdavenotifs & full masterlist -> here

Most nights, Logan sleeps easier when you’re in bed with him. Your body pressed against his, your skin soft and warm against his bare chest. One of his thighs between your legs where you’ve wrapped yourself around him, your touch moving over his torso aimlessly, fingers curling into his chest hair, your hands kneading his flesh in your sleep. The soothing little purrs that emit from your chest when you’re sound asleep. None of it bothers him, no matter how many times it disturbs his own rest. 

It keeps him grounded, feeling you next to him. He’d rather spend the whole night somewhere in that haze between waking and sleeping, listening to your sounds, your breath fanning against his skin, than being pulled under into the depths of his subconsciousness. 

He’d rather open his eyes to see you disentangling your limbs from his, stretching your whole body, arching against him as you yawn. 

He’d rather greet you with a smiling “Good morning, kitten,” waiting for that adorable little crease to appear between your brows when you pout up at him. 

“Did I do it again?” 

He doesn’t hide his grin as he nods, growing wider when you flop back against the cushions with a groan. 

“What exactly?”

“All of it.” 

Your sorry comes out muffled as you hide your face behind your hands. 

“It’s okay,” he says, leaning over you to pull your hands away and kiss the pout off your lips. Caressing that spot under your chin with two fingers, watching you go all soft, baring your throat to him. “I like it.” 

He would much rather wake up like this. 

But it’s been a long week and he’s exhausted. Exhausted enough to get lulled into a deep sleep, encased in the safe cloud of your warm body against his and your touch on his skin. Exhausted enough to dream. And his dreams are not a safe place. 

His eyes fly open with a shout, his whole body jolting upwards, every muscle pulled taut. He doesn’t even register the claws shooting out between his knuckles, all of his instincts screaming at him to fight. 

He’s only faintly aware of the sudden yelp of pain from beside him, the movement of something jerking away from him. 

“Logan,” your voice rings through the buzzing in his ears. Smaller hands landing on his shoulders, fighting to hold him steady. 

It takes a few disoriented blinks before he recognizes the familiar bedroom, a few more deep breaths to stop his body from shaking. To clear the fog in his head enough to understand what you’re saying.

“It’s me, Logan. You’re safe, everyone’s safe, it’s okay.” 

His eyes find yours in the semi-darkness. Wide with worry, but firmly trained on his face, repeating that everything’s okay. He finally registers the familiar weight of you straddling him, understands that it’s your fingers digging into his shoulders. 

He’s still panting, not daring to look away from your face again. The one tether that keeps him from getting lost in his mind again. 

“Are you with me?” you ask, your voice softer now. 

He manages a nod, tries to smile, to wipe the deep worry of your face, but he’s not sure if his mouth even twitches. 

As the feeling slowly returns to his body, he notices something else. A kind of wetness, warm and sticky where your right hand is connected to his skin. The unmistakable tang of iron in the air. He stretches to turn on a bedside lamp, jostling you along with his movement. A quiet whimper hits his ears, so low that he’s sure you tried to suppress it. 

With a new kind of panic surging through him, he grabs hold of your arm, bringing it to his eye level. 

Three scratches ooze in deep red, just beneath your wrist. It forces a gasp from him, eyes dancing frantically between the wounds on your arm and your face. How much blood did you lose already while you were busy helping him? As if he deserved it. 

“Fuck, I’m— I’m so sorry baby, we gotta—” He stumbles over his own words, grasping at you almost blindly, panicked tears blurring his vision. He did this. 

“Logan,” you say, still so inexplicably calm. “It’s fine. Look. It’s fine.” 

You gently pry his fingers off your arm and bring your wrist up to your mouth. Your tongue darts out, drawing long licks against your marred skin, collecting the blood and gliding over the cuts in your flesh. 

It pains him to watch, but it’s the least he can do. The least he owes you. He watches you clean the blood off, watches as the wounds start shrinking at the touch of your saliva, as the skin smoothes over before his very eyes until there’s only three thin marks left, a shade lighter than the rest of your skin. 

“Look,” you tell him again, extending your arm towards him. “I told you it’s okay.” 

He knows you can do this, of course he does. Has watched you multiple times, his fascination with your powers never wavering. How fluidly you move, how quick you attack, how skilled you are at surviving. You just never had to survive him. 

You lean down on top of him until your whole torso rests on his, your thighs still on either side of him, burrowing your head into his chest. “Which war did you dream about?” you ask quietly.

Most of the time, the dreams don’t grant him the mercy to zero in on one single memory. It’s a constant stream, one fight after the other, until all he knows is shouting, fighting, blood and death.

“All of them.” 

You sigh deeply, your breath cool against his sweat-dampened skin. Raising your head a little, you start placing kisses on his chest, pressing your lips into his skin where you can feel the faint beating of his heart.

“I wish I could kiss this better, too,” you mumble. 

He chuckles humorlessly, one hand reaching into your hair to scratch at your scalp. You shudder at the touch, an approving little purr traveling up your throat. 

“It’s okay now,” he mutters, leaning in to inhale the scent of your hair. “Just— I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t be.” 

It sounds so simple, falling from your lips like this. But it’s no match for the aching guilt that’s already eating at him, the questions of what if that start swirling through his mind. 

Your body is growing heavier on top of him as you relax, your breaths evening out and your eyelids fluttering shut. It soothes him, has his own breathing slowing down, but he can’t risk falling asleep again. Not like this, not with your body so close to his.

“What are you— Logan?” comes your instant protest when he moves you to your side of the mattress, your eyes flying back open, wide and mildly confused.

“I could’ve killed you,” he mutters. It could have happened so easily. Just a little deeper, just a slightly different spot. 

“No, you couldn’t,” you quip, arching an eyebrow at him. “Cats have nine lives, remember?” You sneak another quick kiss on his chest before finding his gaze again, a teasing smile on your lips. “Even kittens.” 

It’s an attempt to lighten the mood, to make him laugh. He knows that. You hate the pet name he’s given you. 

“And you’re not gonna waste one on me,” he grits out. 

Hurt flashes over your face, more pain in your eyes than when there was an actual wound on your arm. 

“It wouldn’t be—”

“Don’t you dare say it wouldn’t be a waste.” 

The words come out as a low growl, aggressive enough to send most anyone running. You don’t run. 

Your animal doesn’t like it when he growls at you. He can feel the tension rolling off of you, your hair probably standing on end. Gritting your teeth, you take a deep breath, release your fingers’ grip from digging into the sheets.

“Let’s talk about it in the morning,” you tell him, resignation in your voice. 

Your eyes fall shut again, your head for once resting on your own pillow instead of his chest. He misses the weight of it instantly. You doze off quickly, your hands still pawing weakly at his side, like your body can’t help it. He almost pulls you closer himself. 

While you sleep, Logan forces his own eyes to stay wide open, staring unseeingly into the darkness. 

It’s a quiet day. You had tried talking to him, tried to convince him that it’s okay, that it’s fine. He can’t keep listening to you insisting that him almost killing you is no big deal. He should have known, should have been more aware of the risk instead of letting himself get lost in the blissful sensation of your body curled around his every night. You’ve trusted him so completely, only for him to let you down. 

Just like he always does, the voice in his head whispers.

No matter how many times you swear that you can take care of yourself, he should still be protecting you, not actively putting you in danger while you’re fucking asleep. It’s happened once now, so it can happen again, and he knows that he could never forgive himself. 

He knows that he’s hurting your feelings. Sees how your brows knit together when he barely kisses you back throughout the day. How you bite your lip when the way you’re butting your head against his doesn’t make him chuckle like it usually does. 

He should be angry at himself. He is. But you shouldn’t be the one to catch the brunt of it, and it makes him feel even worse. You always say that he should talk about his feelings more, that it would help to let them out. He suspects that you’re right. He just doesn’t know how.

By evening, you’ve grown uncharacteristically quiet, but he keeps catching your burning glares at him when you think he isn’t looking. Finally, after you’ve stared at him for what felt like an eternity and he’s pointedly ignored you, you seem to snap.

“Can you stop it?!” It leaves your mouth in a hiss, triggering his instincts before the words even register in his brain. 

“Stop what?” he growls back. 

Your fingers curl as a low snarl escapes you. Normally, neither of you lets your animalistic side take over like that. Normally, you’re good at soothing each other. 

But tonight, he can feel the energy crackle between you, the tension begging to be released. 

“You know what! This fucking— sulking or whatever it is you think you’re doing!” 

He rises to his feet, pulling up to his full height. One of your hands twitches. 

“I’m not—” 

You charge at him with an angry shout before another word can leave his mouth. You’re on him in a flash, grabbing onto his arm and letting your momentum carry you until you’re behind him, your nails digging into his shoulders until you’re perched on his backside. 

Whipping his head around, he bares his teeth at you, growls rumbling in his chest. You angrily hiss in his face and swing a hand at him in return, leaving angry red scratches down his cheek. They heal and fade as quickly as they came, but a triumphant grin flashes over your features regardless. 

“Come on, Logan,” you breathe into his ear. The edge in your voice sends fire straight through him. “Fight. You’re not gonna break me.” Your canines nip at his earlobe, somewhere between affectionate and challenging.

He tries shaking you off, but your grip on him only tightens. He collects a fist of your hair instead, pulling harshly to keep your teeth away from his throat. 

“Enough,” he grits, trying desperately to regain control, to become more human again, to smother the primal need to match your aggression. 

He finally grabs hold of one of your hands as well and manages to rip you off his back and in front of him, holding on tight to your upper arms to keep you in place. You’re snarling and twisting in his hold, but he doesn’t let up. 

“Enough,” he repeats, searching your wild eyes. Your movements slow down a fraction, giving him a moment of hope, before you surge forward and bury your teeth in his lower lip. It hurts like hell and he can taste blood on his tongue instantly. 

“Fight me,” you demand again, baring your teeth at him.

He pulls you back by your hair with a roar, gathers both your wrists in one large hand and holds you steady. You could still break free if you wanted to, he thinks. He might be stronger than you, but your movements turn almost liquid when you want to escape, he’s watched it more than once. 

The pain in his lip has already subsided, but his blood is still coating your mouth, a stark contrast against the white shimmer of your teeth. 

“Are you done?” His voice is harsh, his jaw clenched, carefully keeping the desire to strike back at bay. 

You deflate a little, some of the wildness draining from you before his eyes. 

“I just— I’m not fragile, I don’t want you to be scared of— of touching me.” Your voice grows small at the end and he’s horrified to see wetness glistening in your eyes. 

The fight mode leaves him as fast as it came, replaced with the overwhelming urge to care, to protect what’s his. His pack, in a way.  

He gathers you into his arms, curling himself around you. It feels good to hold you close again. Breathing you in deeply, he smells the adrenaline still oozing from you, hears the rapid beating of your heart. But mostly, it’s your unique scent, one that he thinks he could recognize anywhere. His tether to this world. 

“I’m sorry, kitten. I’m not scared of touching you,” he mumbles into your hair. 

You sniffle against his chest, but when you finally raise your head to look at him, new determination is glinting in your eyes. 

“Prove it,” you coo, tracing the shape of his lips with one fingertip. “Please.” 

That he can do. He nips at your finger playfully, your responding giggle the best sound he’s heard all day, before he shoves it out of the way to connect his lips with yours. It’s rough, a clashing of teeth and tongues, the tension that has been building and warping all day finally finding a release. 

You gasp into his mouth when his tongue moves against yours, your hands pulling at his hair, needing him closer and closer still, never close enough. His groan at the taste of you travels through you both as he’s grasping at your clothes. 

He longs for your warm skin under his palms, longs for how you lean into his touch so needy all the damn time. You pull away with a moan, helping him to pull your sweater over your head and stepping out of your jeans as he sheds his flannel. 

You bring both hands up to cup his face, to search his eyes. “Don’t be gentle,” you plead, “please, I need—” 

You don’t have to keep talking for him to understand what you need. I’m not scared of touching you. 

With a growl, his hands find your hips, holding you tight as he’s walking you backwards until your ass connects with the backside of the couch. He crowds you in, paws at every inch of bare skin he can reach, his cock already hard and aching at your soft warmth and the sweet mewls that tumble from your lips. 

Hitching one of your legs up to open you for him, he grinds himself against your barely covered center. A keening sound escapes you at the friction from his jeans against your sensitive flesh and he allows himself a grin. 

“Feels good, kitten?” 

You nod mindlessly, holding onto him and rocking your hips against his while you’re letting him move you however he sees fit. 

“Do you want more?”

“Please, Logan.”

You sound so sweet when you’re like this, when you put your body into his hands. I’m not scared of touching you.

Setting your leg back down, he watches with hunger as you hastily take off your underwear while he pulls the white tank top over his head and opens his belt buckle. He could swear that your pupils dilate a fraction at the sound of it, filling him with a possessive sense of pride. 

As soon as his jeans hit the floor, he’s all over you again, palming the weight of your breasts, tugging and pinching at your nipples as he swallows down your mewls. You’re soaking wet already, covering his cock in your slick as he nudges against your folds. He’s impatient to feel you all around him, to sink into you, to stake his claim again and again and again. 

He normally works you open longer, gives you more time to prepare, but your impatience is just as apparent as his own, with the way you whine and plead for him, your fingers digging into his flesh, trying to pull him nearer. 

He follows your pull, pressing your backside into the couch once more as he crowds your space. Leaning in, he kisses you deeply, licking into your mouth, one hand buried in your hair and holding you close. 

“I love you,” he breathes against your lips as he lets go of you. I’m not scared of touching you.

You smile softly, echoing the sentiment back at him. 

A surprised squeak escapes you when he turns you around suddenly, bending you over the back of the couch. He lines himself up at your dripping entrance, desperate to fill you up, to give you what you’re craving. 

“Not gentle?” he rasps once more, one hand curling around your neck from behind, both in reassurance and dominance. 

“Not gentle,” comes your breathy answer. It breaks off into a shriek of a moan when he slams into you with one long thrust, stretching your tight walls around his length. The sting of his sudden intrusion has to hurt at least a little, but you push back against him eagerly, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. 

Logan holds himself still for a moment, mesmerized by the sight of your squirming body and your needy little sounds, before he pulls out almost entirely, only to push back in forcefully. Your toes barely reach the floor with how far he’s bent you over, lifting you into the air with every harsh thrust, but he’s holding you steady with ease, both hands possessively spanning over your waist, positioning you exactly where he wants you. 

“Taking me so fucking well, like you were made for me,” he growls, gently scratching over your back with his nails. You arch up to chase his touch, tightening around him, almost purring with pleasure. Wetness pours out of you, coating his cock. I’m not scared of touching you. Not when it feels this good. 

“M–more, please,” you whine, blindly reaching backwards to him. 

He leans over you, cages you in, his arms on either side of you, his breath hot against your skin. His teeth sink into the back of your neck, not so deep as to draw blood, but enough that he knows the indents will stay there for quite some time. 

Your whole body goes limp at the sensation, a surprised mewl escaping you as you clench around him wildly. 

“Fuck,” he breathes, his own hips stuttering, “give it to me kitten, come on—” 

He reaches around your hip, fingers teasing through your slick folds and up to your clit, rubbing with slight pressure as he keeps pistoning into your heat. 

“Logan—” you gasp, getting almost impossibly tight, before you shatter around him. He keeps thrusting into you, keeps up his ministrations on your clit, until the pulsing of your cunt around him sends him over the edge as well. He spills his release deep inside of you, the thought of leaving a part of him with you always filling him with a primal satisfaction. 

Pulling you up instantly, he gathers you in his arms, your body soft and pliant against his chest. Walking around the couch and sinking into the cushions to lie down, he gently moves you until your weight is resting on top of him, his embrace wrapping around you.

You stir a little, needing a moment to take in your position. The look of uncertainty that you give him damn near breaks his heart. “Is this okay?” You sound uncertain, too.

God, he’s such an idiot. 

“Yeah, kitten. It’s— fuck, of course it’s okay.”

thank you so so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed, and if you did, a comment or a reblog would absolutely make my day :)

-> part 2!

[darkstaria]

Yandere Batfam - Soulmate Soul Animal Au.

Chapter 6:

Summary: After being ambushed previously in Gotham's streets, you awake alone and afraid, in a strange building.

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 7.

----

A furious pounding beat at your skull, a liquid of some kind dripped down from your head. You blinked your eyes open, greeted by what could only be some kind of warehouse.

You were in a daze, barely recognising what was in front of you. What vision you had was muddled by pain and your hearing was drowned out by a piercing beat in your ears.

What...?

You could hardly think.

The world was a messy tsunami of pain and confusion. That is... Until a flash of green, white and red beamed into your eyes, a sneering smile on its face.

You gasped. Breath caught in your throat, as your chin was caught in his hand.

The Joker.

"HahahahahahaHAHAHAHA!" The laugh echoed throughout the building as your surprise turned into shakes. The hand left go as Joker's chortle turned into a full laugh, but that was hardly a relief.

This was, quite literally, the worst situation you could have ever gotten into. Out of everyone who would have an interest in Batman's soulmate, why must it be him?

You instinctively try to move, but soon realise you've been restrained, ropes tying you down to an iron chair. They don't budge.

The stomping of shoes drew your attention back to him, as the Joker approached you again.

"Well now." He began, a beaming grin stretching his face. "Lookie what we have here. You know, I was having a wonderful night, finally out on the town, able to meet all my old friends again. Then I meet you, and you know what I think?"

He rested a hand on your shoulder. You fought a shiver.

"What a... great new friend?" You try. You go for a smile of your own. You're certain it looks more like a grimace.

A mocking laugh is his response. Then, with a sudden twist, his hands grasp your collar, bringing you to his eye level. The movement forces you against the ropes that constrict your stomach, suffocating you.

"I find... a sniveling little brat, that just so happens, TO HAVE A BAT PROTECTING-"

A screech cuts him off, a flurry of wings diving directly into his face, what you could barely make out as a beak aimed at his eyes. The pain you're under causes you to take a moment to understand what's going on, as Joker swings a crowbar at the flying figure.

It was... Hood. Pecking and clawing at the Joker, doing whatever it could to draw him away. And it was working too.

That is, until Joker pressed down on his flower, causing a spray of gas to surge outward directly into Hood's line of flight. It slowed it down, a pause as Hood squawked in pain. A pause that was swiftly taken advantage of, as Joker swung a brutal arc into Hood, the crowbar sending the bird flying across the room and into a crumpled pile on the ground.

"No!" The scream tore itself out of you, a primal sort of agony you never thought you would ever feel after you had withdrawn from thoughts of your soulmates. It was like losing him all over again. Vigilante or not, Hood was a bird. Birds didn't typically survive a hit from a crowbar. If Hood died here, what would you do? One of the connections that had tormented you all your life, over just like that.

The scream drew Joker's attention back to you, a realisation that sank deeply in your throat. He approached you again, an air of casualness across his figure.

"Birds, what little pests. Good thing I always carry around pest spray." He laughs, adjusting the flower resting on his lapel. "I've always preferred bats." A thunk noise sounded out as he spoke, drawing your attention to a small cage he dropped.

It was a birdcage. Inside that birdcage was...

"Batman?!"

The bat inside was still, its gaze fixed on Joker's movements, but it did shift briefly to watch you for but a second as you spoke its name.

"Hahaha!" Joker's laugh was like nails on a chalkboard. "Turns out all you need to capture a bat is the right bait."

"How..?" You mumbled, the words unconsciously forming on your tongue due to the shock.

"Within a moment of my crowbar's acquaintance with your dear old head, Bats appeared! A bit of a nuisance at first, but a few threats at that neck of yours calmed him right down!" Joker admitted, the biggest smile you had seen yet on his face. He chuckled at the mere memory of it, as you shook in horror.

Two of your soulmates were now down. You couldn't stop shaking, horrified. All your options were dwindling and Joker looked more... murdery by the second.

Your attention was caught by a feeling of feathers brushing against your arms, the shaking making the thing touch you. You paused for a miniscule second, as you tried to think of what it was. Wait.

Was another one of your soulmates here? But rather than fight, this one was untying you? Or maybe gnawing at the ropes, whichever option was more plausible for a bird/bat.

Could you stall long enough to get out? It seemed like the only possibility left.

"Why...why do this? What enjoyment are you finding from this?" Maybe not the best line of questioning, but it was all your pounding head could come up with.

"Why?" Joker echoed, pausing for a moment. "Because I don't take kindly to cheaters. Me and Bats have something special. I dealt with my soul chain long ago, and yet! I find him cheating on me with this lousy excuse for a time waster!" He ends his shout pointing at you, a scowl on his painted face. It's possibly the worst expression you've seen on Joker yet.

"Aren't the other Robins his soulmates too? Why are you only targeting me?"

"I dealt with one of the flying rats long ago, quite a great plan if I may say so, but he just came back! I don't feel like wasting my time with this eternal game of wack-a-mole, so I've decided on a new method."

What's the method...?" You ask, reluctantly.

"You." He smiles.

He steps closer, withdrawing a gun from his pocket. "Thanks for the opportunity to capture Bats, my dear, but I've had enough of his chains getting in the way of our little game. I'll take much better care of little Batsy once you die, well, to an extent anyway! Hahaha!"

He tosses the gun up and down, carelessly as he walks towards you.

Up.

What could you do?

Down.

Hood was still crumpled in the corner, likely unconscious.

Up.

Batman was shaking the cage, unable to do anything else in its rage.

Down.

The unknown soul animal hadn't finished removing the ropes.

Across. The gun meets your temple, a few inches away from your head. You lock eyes with him. He pulls the trigger.

Pop! You flinch, coming face to face with a little Bang! flag that popped out of the gun.

You sigh, a momentary relief. You've been spared. You shift a little, feeling the ropes loosen. Your soul animal was doing its job well. You intake a few breaths, as Joker slaunters away from you, chuckling under his breath.

You close your eyes for a moment, trying to regain yourself amidst all the pain.

BANG!

"Agh-!" You jolt, shooting straight up. There's a pain in your cheek, a metallic liquid dripping down.

Turning your head ever so slightly, you spy the Bang flag lodged into the wall. It was a real gun after all.

But..

Why didn't he shoot you?

"Guns are a little too dry, don't you think?" You turn back around, immediately coming face to face with the Joker, an image that makes you flinch.

There's a crowbar in his hands.

"I don't ever repeat jokes, but, my first attempt with this weapon didn't stick too long. I don't want to lower the bar of my comedy, but maybe it'll work this time? Second time's the charm!"

"It's actually the third time.." You speak, nerves causing your words to tumble out. So that's why he didn't shoot you. He intends to make your final moments as painful as possible.

He smiles in response to your quip, lifting the bar up.

"W-wait!" You cried out, desperation pooling into whatever would give you a chance at survival. "Couldn't you do anything else?! Brainwash me, use me as a hostage, isn't it just a waste if you kill me?!" You practically scream the final words, your panic reaching a crescendo of horror.

The Joker's reply is simple.

"Nope!"

He swings.

BANG!

A bullet flies through his hand, forcing him to drop the crowbar as he pulls back.

You both turn, spotting a bulky man in black at the entrance of the warehouse.

He's wearing a red helmet.

"Joker.." The voice is deep, a threatening timbre you'd only hear replicated in nightmares.

"Let. The civilian. Go.” His gun clicks.

“Urgh. Speak of the devil.” Joker complains, unphased. “My plans are being ruined and it's not even by Bats. What is the world coming to?”

“Wait…” The Joker pauses, noticing a fallacy in the vigilantes’ words. “Civilian? Oh, HAHAHA! OHHhhh you have no idea what’s going on here do you?” The Joker snickers in delight, giving you a conniving glance.

“Oh my, oh my. I didn't realise you were also a jokester.” Joker squishes your cheeks, a little too harsh to be anything but painful. He laughs again at the expression on your face.

There's no response from the figure, but the bullet that Joker barely dodges the next second later is answer enough. It grants you and the Joker some distances, so you're grateful.

A flapping of wings draws your attention, a dark blue blur sailing through the room before landing on your lap. Nightwing.

You blink in realisation, finally understanding why not all your soul animals had appeared to help you. Wing had led one of the bats to you. You glanced over. Judging from the helmet, was this Red Hood.

Uh oh. You hoped he didn't notice Hood in the corner.

Or Batman. Or the soul animal freeing you- oh no you were absolutely screwed weren’t you?

You gulp.

“Wait.. You?” Red Hood’s modulated voice didn’t convey any emotion, but it couldn't disguise the hesitance in which he spoke.

Exposed.

“Uhmmm… no?” You tried.

Wing nuzzled your cheek. Hood’s gaze intensified.

“Okay! Okay yes, but I swear there's a reason why I never came to any of you- it wasn't because of you-” Oh dear that one was a blatant lie.

“I.. I mean, I just didn't want-” What could you do, what could you say? You didn't want to lie, but the truth wasn't good either.

In-between your frantic ramblings however, the Joker had snuck up on Red Hood, taking a lucky swing that missed by about a centimeter.

Red Hood’s retaliation was swift, the two suddenly engaging in a battle of force that was very much leaning in Red Hood’s favour. Although, ever so often Red Hood gave a wince of pain. Did Hood’s soul animal form’s state injure him slightly?

That question would go unanswered, as the ropes around you crumpled, revealing Red to be the soul animal that had been bailing you out all this time.

Well. You weren't going to get a better opportunity than this. Pushing Red and Wing off your lap, you rush out, aiming for one of the broken windows.

Batman makes a slight growling noise as you pass his birdcage. You try not to think about it.

“Hey!” A batarang flies past you, the rope attached to it meeting no target as you trip on some broken glass.

“Ah!” You mumble, surprised at your good (?) forture. There's now a cut on your leg. Great.

Red Hood is subsequently distracted from any more attempts to detain you, as the Joker takes another swing that gets a little too close for comfort in response, laughing all the while.

Clumsily falling out of the window, you thank Lady Gotham that the Joker kidnapped you on the ground floor, so there’s no drop whatsoever.

You sigh, injuries now taking a toll as the constant adrenaline was wearing off. You stumble forward.

Red and Wing land on your shoulders. Of course.

You limp out into Gotham’s alleyways, oblivious to the movement of a lithe figure on the rooftop, watching you.

----

Yeah those who guessed Joker were correct! Enjoy a cookie if you did! It seemed criminal to not have a chapter that explored how a soulmate universe would influence Batman and Joker's relationship, so that's what I did!

Oh and yeah, poor Reader. They are not having too good of a time rn. All these injuries aren't really gonna help them plead their case either.

A bit more of Jason this time too! How funnnn. I definitely feel bad for birdy Hood though. Red Hood may be super skilled but it's a little too unrealistic for him to solo as a bird :(

Taglist: @moonchild-artemisdaughter @jjsmeowthie @madine11-blog @xxrougefangxx @hadesnewpersephone @neerathebrightstar @mel-star636 @jaythes1mp @rosecentury @lov3vivian @gaozorous-rex-blog @victoria1676 @vrsin @silverklaus @ryukyuin @kurai-hono-blog @thisisafish123 @isawyourbrowserhistory @ain-t-no-way-bsfr @realifezompire @lunaluz432 @nickey-diano @sukiiluvs @sara0055 @alleakimlala @kdidgg @paperhermits @alishii @emmbny @sirenetheblogger @fantasy-angelo @andrasia @vinnvinnvintage @nyra-42 @armystaysatnct @beyond-your-stars @starsdotalk @adeptusxia0 @jailbimbo @yandereheros @sxftiebee @i-have-three-feelings @toast-on-dandelioms @lyl-3 @sitepathos @pato-spoiler-27 @ghostdoodlen @phoenixgurl030 @problematicreblogger

@sociallyakwardpanda @imaginarydreams @zanzie @yuyuzi-ling @soriansick @f1lover4ever @kiikkey @elizzsush @raincxtter @luoyi85 @yune1337 @erikasurfer @thekingofsimps @chaosbeanuwu @snowy-violet @nommingonfood @yandere-enthusiast @nb-babygirl @demonqueen-1 @h0rr0r-10ver-69 @winter67890-blog

Tumblr just told me I can't tag anyone else, so the list ends here. Hopefully I can tag the remaining people in a comment!

[lix-ables]

Skz when their s/o loves leaving stratches on their back during intercourse, how would they react to that?

WAIT I GOT TO THIS SO SO LATE AAAAAAAAA (screaming for this and for answering late omg) but oml lemme tell you come hither UGH !!

bf!skz love showering you with attention in any which way that they can, because thats literally what they want to do, especially during sex.

𓋼 CHAN, LINO, CHANGBIN, HAN+INNIE : at first it would widen their eyes, mostly in a good way. they wouldn't expect you to be primal/leaving scratches/lightly bite them in bed, but they would think it so so hot. im taking they have stars in their eyes, pussy drunk most of the time, and have nothing in their heads except you.

"fuck, do that again baby," would come their reply, a grunt leaving them as they thrust into you. or maybe like, let's say you're riding their thigh/they're eating you out so good, your hands are either scratching down their back, clinging onto their shoulders or tugging on their hair — mostly the first one though.

"guess someone likes it when i do this hm?" expect TEASING !! loads! of! it! ( tagging @mnwrld @comet-falls AND @chriscentric for this bc ✨suffer✨ )

𓋼 HYUNJIN, FELIX, SEUNGMIN : would be surprised by it, but would actually like it nonetheless. it's you ofc, how could they say no. wouldn't be the type to ask you to do it again, but a shiver FOSHO travels down their spine and make their dicks twitch because it's so so hot. omg they'd tease you about it the next day, showing you the pinkish marks on their backs. "look at what you did. someone's gonna think you're an animal," would come their reply, walking behind you, asking you to maybe try it once again. "i mean you are, in bed. but i love it."

[lordprettyflackotara]

dollhouse || jeff the killer || part two

SMUT DNI 18+

“You’re fucking insufferable!

“I’m insufferable? Which one of us fucked up the mission?”

“Obviously you!”

You audibly scoffed. The mission had gone perfectly, minus one tiny little flaw. Neither of you anticipated your getaway car being broken into and stolen. It resulted in a very awkward game of hide and seek, where you both were forced to hide behind a dumpster until someone came to get you. (Ben found the situation hilarious).

Unfortunately for both of you, EJ was the one who was ordered to pick you up. The proxies were used to your and Jeff’s bickering, the three often intervening and picking sides. EJ on the other hand was more reserved, always silently observing and thinking. The final piece to the tragic puzzle, were the three days spent tracking down said car to cover your tracks. In recent years Slender had become more insistent on being careful, making sure no traces of creeps were left behind. With EJ’s sense of smell it wasn’t hard to find the thief, just time consuming.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy torching the car and watching it be engulfed into flames. What you didn’t enjoy, was quite literally everything else. Including the long car ride back to the mansion, which included both you and Jeff sharing the backseat. Originally you both had fought over the passenger seat, EJ quick to manhandle the both of you into the backseat by force. Now you were forced in a confided space with your arch nemesis, one who had came in you days prior.

“I’m not the one who decided to finger paint blood on the wall. Maybe if we had saved the arts and crafts bullshit we’d still have a fucking car,” You argued. You were both still covered in dry blood, exhausted, and filthy. Every ounce of energy you had left was dedicated to spiting at each other. “EJ are you hearing this shit? The whole go to sleep thing is kinda my thing. Not my fault you weren’t clever enough to come up with a signature,” Jeff debated. EJ sighed, ignoring the both of you as he continued driving down the dimly lit road.

“Yeah I can tell your signature was made when you were fourteen. It screams edgy preteen,” You spat, crossing your arms. You looked out of the window, sick of seeing Jeff’s face. You hated how he made you feel. So angry. So vulnerable. It was like he could see right through you, both of you apart of the same parting glass. “I’m not the one who got horny mid mission,” Jeff grumbled. You shot daggers at him with your firey gaze as you turned your head. “What the fuck did you just say?” You asked. Jeff matched your energy, both of you meeting halfway. “I think you heard me loud and clear doll face,” He snickered.

“I will throw you out of this moving car Jeffrey,” You growled. Jeff came closer, your faces an inch apart. “Yeah? I’d like to see you try-” He began, both of you flying forward against the seats in front of you. EJ had slammed on the brakes, the car coming to a sudden stop in the middle of the road. “Will you two shut the fuck up? You are driving me nuts! Either fuck, get married, or kill each other. Pick one. Or you know what? Fuck it. Maybe do all three. In that order. Just shut the fuck up!” EJ yelled. Jack was never the violent or expressive type, not in your experience. You’d never heard him mumble more than four sentences before.

You picked yourself up off of the floorboard, trying to look proper as you resumed your position in your seat. Jeff did the same, watching as EJ slowly turned back around. He shook his head, slowly pressing his foot on the gas. “We did fuck, just to be clear,” Jeff clarified. You screeched in horror. “Jeff?! What the fuck?” You said, slapping his arm. Jeff rolled his eyes. “Cmon dude it’s fucking EJ. If anyone understands the primal fucking thing it’s him,” He said, pointing at the demon in question. Jack slammed on the brakes once again, your head hitting the seat in front of you this time.

“I’m getting out of the car. Get your energy out by fucking or killing each other, I don’t care which. Just let me know when you’re done,” EJ grumbled, undoing his seatbelt. You reached over the seat and grabbed his arm. You wanted nothing more than to go home and shower. And if you had to shut Jeff up to do it, you would. “We’ll figure it out and leave you out of it. Okay? Please take us home,” You say softly. Out of all of the mansions residents, Jack probably bothered you the least. Most of the time he kept himself wrapped up in his medical lab. You only really saw him when one of the proxies needing stitching up, EJ taking pride in the one thing he considered himself to be good at.

Jack sighed, not saying anything but beginning to drive the car again. “Look at you getting all soft on EJ. You gonna beg him to fuck you too?” Jeff huffed, jealousy radiating off of his skin. You turned to him, climbing over him and straddling his lap. Your hand flew to his throat, squeezing the sides like your life depended on it. “If you keep yapping we are never going to get home. Shut up,” You snarled. You could feel Jeff’s cock grow hard underneath you, your eyebrows raising. “Say please and i’ll shut up,” Jeff said, his voice husky. You couldn’t decide if it was because of his lust or lack of an airway.

You most certainly did not want to say please to Jeff of all people, but you did want to get home. More than anything. You slowly lowered your hips, grinding against Jeff’s aching boner. “Please,” You say softly, meeting his obsidian eyes. The pale killer quickly flipped you over, planting his lips on yours. You could hardly process your back hitting the backseat, the air being knocked out of your lungs. You struggled to keep up with his frantic kisses, as if he just couldn’t get enough of you. His pale hands slipped under your shirt, squeezing your mounds of needy flesh.

You let out a small groan, Jeff’s obsidian eyes temporarily torn away from you. “EJ if I catch you looking back here i’ll scoop out your eyes,” Jeff threatened. There was a brief silence in the car, before Jack turned on his blinker to turn. “I don’t have eyes Jeff,” He replied blandly. Jeff squeezed at your breast harder, the pain making you squirm. “Yeah yeah you get the point,” Jeff barked. He smashed his lips back onto yours, your fingers desperately fiddling with his jeans. “That desperate huh doll?” He snickered. You rolled your eyes, Jeff forcing a groan from your lips as his finger toyed with your nipple.

“Thats it, such pretty noises. Let it all out,” He mocked. He helped you shove off his jeans, his hand grasping his hard cock. Jeff buried his head in your neck, sucking and lapping at your sensitive skin. The two of you were whimpering messes, completely forgetting Jack was even there. “Don’t leave marks you asshole,” You whined, your hips rolling upwards. Jeff grinned devilishly as he released your neck with a pop. “Little too late. Good luck explaining that,” He argued. You ran your thumb over his slit, the pale killer above letting out a groan. You grabbed him by his hoodie, changing the position.

Jeff sat upwards in the backseat, watching as you scrubbed your blood soaked scrubs off. You straddled Jeff, melting into the kiss as his large hands grabbed your ass. You hated how good he made you feel. His wet you got from his touch and degrading words. How divine it felt that your slick was rubbing up and down his hard cock, and all you could want was more. He slapped your ass harshly, your whine quickly swallowed by his eager lips. You hovered over his cock, before slowly sinking down onto it. You let out a string of curses, a cocky smirk dancing across Jeff’s lips.

“Go on, let EJ know how good I made you feel,” Jeff purred. Your right hand flew to his neck, choking the sides as you sank down lower onto his cock. “Shut the fuck up Jeffrey,” You argued weakly. Your walls spasmed as you struggled to accommodate his size, your drenched cunt pulling him in. Jeff’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as you choked him, the pale killer in more pleasure than he’d let on. “Look at Jeff EJ, look at how much of a pathetic fucktoy he is for me,” You huffed. You sank fully into his cock, the two of you breathing heavily as you finally made eye contact. Jeff’s hand brought itself to your throat, the two of you choking the other.

“Get on with it or i’ll bend you over and give Jacky a real show,” Jeff threatened weakly. You rose your hips, before rolling them back down on his cock. You both let out a unison of groans, your body beginning to ride his shaft faster. You released his throat, grabbing handfuls of his hoodie to maintain balance. “F-fuck Jeff,” You whined. His cock was abusing your g spot perfectly, your body on cloud nine. Jeff released your throat, bringing his large hand to your cheek. “Thats it doll, keep making that stupid fucked out face of yours,” He huffed. His other hand strayed from your ass, slithering to your clit. He began to draw slow circles, your brain turning to mush.

“Fucking hell- please go faster,” You pleaded. Jeff brought his forehead to yours, the two of you moaning in unison as you shamelessly rode his cock. Your knuckles were turning white from gripping his hoodie so hard. It was then the killer began fucking up into you, your moans becoming louder and unhinged. “Jeff! Shit!” You moaned. Jeff stroked your cheek with his thumb, the loving action almost making you furrow your eyebrows in questioning. But he seemed content and you couldn’t deny your enjoyment. “I hate you Jeffrey Woods,” You hissed, hating the way your body was reacting to his.

“I hate you more dollface,” He seethed, both of his hands grabbing your waist. Jeff gripped your waist so tightly you knew you’d have bruises in the morning. “I hate the air you breathe,” You argued. Jeff’s thrust into you, knocking your next insult out of your lungs. “Yeah? I hate how good you feel wrapped around my cock,” Jeff panted. You could feel the cord in your stomach tightening, your thighs beginning to shake. You brought your fingers down to your clit, circling the sensitive bud as Jeff rammed into you. “I hate you,” You moaned, throwing your head back in pleasure.

Jeff grabbed your throat, forcing you to look at him as you both reached your highs. “I hate you too, slut,” He spat. His words sent you over the edge, your walls spasming around his cock as you came. “Jesus fuck, it’s like you’re milking me,” He groaned, cumming deep inside of your cunt. You both panted in unison, trying to come down from your highs. Exhausted, you rested your head against Jeff’s shoulder.

Jacks voice was the next thing you heard as you came down, “You two need fucking therapy.”

[storgicdealer]

ok gang. its theory time

the analysis of the new mercenary scene. meta, blueprints and time

warning it is incredibly choppy because of the chaos i am in rn !!!!!! but anyways

okay so. the video cuts off at green&red defending themselves but i doubt that really means a lot

the glitching. it IS reminding me of the way chosens memories were scanned through. but mercs having a whole tv remote?? chosens memories mightve as well pushed them to use youtube ?? but why didnt they access it earlier ?? why vic didnt???

bc of these question im more willing to think they themselves decided to use youtube right now. maybe only right now !

this raises a ton of questions. does outernet have somewhat of an access to internet after all? is it just their own tech? (could be supported by the fact that if youtube was common there i doubt theyd be using specifically television for it. i feel like theyd use other screens instead without a need of a remote especially considering how advanced their tech is)

still possible that it is common. considering they aren't that focused on it and there are random workers in the bg literally enjoying the show

this whole thing is VERY meta lol but i do think the mercs are the ones that influenced the stream in this way

A BIG portion of alan drawing a flower from ava season 2 is paid attention to in the glitching scene for some reason ?? maybe as a note for his and secs alliance.

the video then cuts off and goes to victim again. the whole video was watched through

the stream cuts off to mercs. **RIGHT** at the moment chosen notices the freedom stick rights article. based on the vid it could be just primal messing with shit but i feel it was intentional. (ha. freedom? loser. we're here instead)

later. the video resumes at victim again. i didnt see any changes to vics or chosens ending.

okay. the mercs. pulling up screenshots for this one

i. cant decipher THAT much even though the quality is 1080p for me.

but i DO see that the first blueprint has as i suppose the hover ??

the text pinpoints "power core" and its pretty much the most readable thing for me. another one is kyokaz was here its just a cameo

the blueprint shows buttons? perhaps the controller of the hover? going to a circle thingy. perhaps what is working inside the hover

the whole thing on the left corner says f___ complex but i cant decipher

second screenshot. the blueprint left to the first one looks like a pc?? and its not surprising even in the screenshot itself bc. the mercs have one to the right corner behind em

now. third sc.

HELLO?

firstly. A VIC DRAWING????? WITH A GUN????

there is a possibility of it being any stick but. i feel its victim. in my guts

shooting?? what. for.

it is scribbled out . . .

there is a possibility (along with the self portrait of vics in the unused bg) that it was just. him doodling. it would kill me actually because he is no great artist like sec. just a doodler (<words of flareboi here)

now. this

again . the question how they accesed it.

if they can get youtube to open there. how did vic not know of the showdown. of sec

showdown was uploaded online. that was literally in canon !!!

unless there's a rule that not everything internet-like and youtube like can be accessible. but i dont really think of any implications that proved that

except. for the fact that showdown was already uploaded. before the ep even ended. would it imply time passing differently in both realms?

lord i needed to scream it out.

OH GOD !!!!!!!!!!!

[enh4s]

u want some ideas? girl i got u, but apologise early if some of my ideas are something you already wrote

-heeseung coming home and wants nothing but him in your pussy only to find out you riding a dildo while waiting for him. so he end up fucking you with him and the dildo

-jay who had an online meeting at home so u tease him by walking only wearing nothing but his shirt well it ends up him edging you the whole night

-jake your subby baby who tries to dom, you thought he's cant do it but oh boy he proof you wrong

-sunghoon teasing you in public by using vibrator in public

im sorry if its too much

I literally want to write all of them🫠

Starting with Heeseung one!!

"Impatience looks sexy on you"

pairing: bf! heeseung, horny af y/n

genre: pure smut without plot?

warnings: unprotected sex, anal, toy, dirty talk, breeding

author's note: I hope you'll enjoy this, short because I felt like making it short but spicyyyy (I want heeseung so bad)

Heeseung came home from work, tired and hungry. He had a long day of meetings and now he just wanted to relax in his bed with his girlfriend. He walked into the house, taking off his shoes at the door as he always did. He heard noises coming from the bedroom, and he smiled to himself.

Heeseung walked into the bedroom, his eyes widening in surprise at what he saw. You were lying on the bed, your legs spread wide and a dildo buried deep inside your pussy.

You were moaning and whimpering, your fingers working furiously at your clit. Heeseung's cock twitched in his pants as he watched his girl pleasure herself. He walked over to the bed and knelt down next to you, reaching out to touch your thigh.

"What are you doing?" you asked, your voice breathless.

"I'm going to help you cum," he said, his voice low and husky. He leaned down and took one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking hard on it as he reached between your legs to play with the dildo inside you. You moaned and arched your back, pushing your breast further into his mouth. He sucked harder, nipping at the sensitive skin with his teeth.

"Oh god," you moaned, your hips bucking against his hand as he worked the dildo in and out of your drenched cunt.

He could feel you're getting closer and closer to orgasm, and he felt the urge to make sure you came before he fucked you properly.

He pulled his mouth away from your nipple and moved down to your pussy, licking and sucking at your clit as he continued to play with the dildo. You were a moaning mess now, your body writhing beneath him as you approached the edge of orgasm.

He could feel your muscles tighten around the dildo, and he knew that you were close. He increased the speed of his movements, determined to bring you over the edge.

"Oh fuck!" you screamed, your body convulsing as you came hard. Heeseung kept licking and sucking at your clit, making sure that you got every last drop of pleasure from your orgasm. When you finally came down from her high, he stood up and stripped off his clothes, revealing his hard cock. It was twitching, it was all red and both of you knew that he craved you so bad.

"You're not done yet," he said, his voice low and husky. He grabbed you by the hips and flipped you over onto all fours, positioning himself behind you.

You gasped as he entered you, his cock filling your cunt completely. He gripped your hips tightly, thrusting into you with a primal force.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he groaned, his voice rough with desire. He continued to pound into you, his balls slapping against your clit as he filled you up over and over again.

You moaned and cried out, your body rocking back and forth as he drove himself deeper and deeper into you.

“You couldn't wait for your man to fuck you properly, huh? You were so impatient to play with your little toy? Maybe we should use it again on you since you like it that much? My pretty, little slut" He said, spanking your cheeks.

"I'm sorry, Heeseung. I couldn't help it. I was so horny and needed to cum so bad." You said, your voice trembling with desire.

"Please, Heeseung... Please fuck me harder!" He obliged your request, thrusting into you with a renewed vigor. He took a dildo in his hand, pushing the tip in your asshole.

You screamed in pain, but then you started to enjoy it. He started to fuck you with both his cock and the dildo, and you felt like you were being stretched to your limits. But you loved it, and you begged him to keep going. Heeseung continued to fuck you, his cock sliding in and out of your cunt while the dildo pushed into your ass.

You were screaming and crying out in pleasure, your body shaking with each thrust. Heeseung reached around and began playing with your clit, his fingers moving quickly as he brought you closer and closer to another orgasm.

"Oh god, yes! Yes, please don't stop!" you cried out, your body tensing up as you approached the peak of your second orgasm. Heeseung continued to pound into you, his pace increasing as he felt you're nearing your climax.

He could feel her muscles tightening around his cock. He was so rough with you, his own orgasm building inside him.

"Yes, oh yes! I'm cumming! Oh God Heeseung, it feels so good!” you continued screaming, your body shaking as you came all over his cock.

Heeseung kept thrusting in and out of you, he felt your juices coating his cock.

"So needy for my cock, and mine only, huh? You love it when I'm destroying you like this, my little plaything?" He asked, biting your neck lightly.

"Yes, yes! I love it!" you moaned. Heeseung thrust his cock into you hard and fast, fucking you with all he had left.

"Fuck me harder! Harder!" you begged. Heeseung obliged, pounding your pussy as hard as he could until he couldn't hold back anymore and came inside of you. 

“Fuck, you feel so good clenching around me like this” He was groaning onto your soft skin on your back. 

Heeseung pulled out, rolled off of you and pulled you close to him. He held you in his arms, breathing heavily. “Impatience looks so sexy on you" he said. You smiled and kissed him on the cheek. "I love you," you said softly, resting your head on his chest.

"I love you too," he replied. "So, what's next?" you asked.

Heeseung thought for a moment. "Well, I think we should take a break from sex for a while" he said. You looked at him in surprise. "What? Why?" you asked. Heeseung smiled and kissed your forehead. 

“Well, I have to make sure you still know how to walk” He laughed, before pulling you closer for a kiss.

[daycourtofficial]

Bad Idea

Summary: feeling a bit neglected by your mate, you decide to try to make him jealous by dancing with another male. Very little plot, mostly just smut ngl.

Warnings: Azriel is a mean dom, so uh literally.. spanking, cockwarming, degradation, light choking.

Author’s note: fuck it, I want jealous Az, and dammit I’ll have jealous Az. Also I’m headcannoning that Az wears boxer briefs idk why I feel like he’d like the sleekness of them.

-

You knew it was a stupid idea. Stupid, stupid idea. You couldn’t help yourself, though. Your mate had been gone all week on a mission, his return culminating in everyone at Rita’s - dancing, drinking, having a good time.

Your mate kept talking to his brothers, hardly passing you a second glance when a male approached you at the bar. You looked to see if he’d noticed, and growing tired of his lack of attention, you decided to indulge the man at the bar. Truth be told, the man wasn’t really interested in you. You two struck up a conversation about your shoes, leading you to discussing your own mates.

Wren, he told you, was here because he loved dancing, but his mate did not. You could understand the sentiment, the same opinions being held by you and your mate. So you asked Wren to dance and made your way to the dance floor.

You danced for what felt like hours with Wren, having an incredible time. Lost in the music, through the haze of alcohol, it was easy to push aside your feelings of neglect. Every so often you’d look towards your mate, only to find him looking elsewhere. You and Wren left the dancefloor for some water, him telling you he should be on his way home. You bid each other farewell, and you realize your mate is nowhere to be found.

You stumbled home, forgoing your heels a block from Rita’s. The house is dark, not a single light on inside. You roll your eyes walking up the steps to your door, assuming Azriel was still speaking with Rhys and Cassian somewhere.

You slipped through your house, tossing your shoes on the floor as you walk up the stairs to your bedroom. You pushed open your bedroom door, closing it softly behind you. You pad through the room, reaching to unzip your top when a heavy weight presses into your back, pushing your front into the wall.

You start to scream, but a scarred hand wraps around your mouth. The force has your hands above your head with one hand, your mouth covered with the other.

“That’s no way to greet me, my love.”

Your mate’s voice eases the primal fear deep within you, but the tone of his voice causes a new fear to ripple through you.

“In fact,” he says, his whisper sending chills down your spine, “nothing you did tonight was an appropriate way to greet your mate after a week away.”

You muffle some sounds, trying to explain to him that he wasn’t even looking at you for most of the night, but he keeps his hand steady on your mouth, curling some fingers around your jaw to keep it locked in place.

His wings wrap around both of you, coccooning you from the world, as if his next words were meant only for the two of you.

“You’re mine,” he whispers, “my mate, my wife, my soul.”

He releases your hands, but the loss of contact is quickly replaced by his shadows holding your hands together.

“I’ll spend however long it takes to remind you of that fact, until you’re so fucked out you’re just left a drooling, twitching mess.”

He releases you from the wall, your weight sagging from him holding you up, but before you can fall, he holds you around the hips, dragging you to the bed. His shadows were in a frenzy around you, and he pushes you down onto the bed, your back hitting the mattress.

“I’m not the only one possessive of you,” he says, as shadows start swirling around your legs, your arms, your waist, your neck. You tried to lift yourself up, but they held you down. Azriel turned, walking to the bar cart you two kept in your room, pouring himself a glass of whiskey as his shadows held you down.

“They were so upset with you,” he says, the whiskey coming close to his lips. “They wanted me to make a big show in Rita’s about who you belong to, but I told them to wait, and I’d let them have their fun.”

Two shadows traveled up your thighs, and your eyes widen, remembering what’s underneath your skirt.

“Don’t worry,” he drawls, sitting in his leather chair to have an unobstructed view of you. A shadow swirls behind your back, unzipping your top and pulling it off of you. They do the same with your skirt, but they leave your overly optimistic crotchless panties and matching bra on. “I’ll make my way to you, eventually.”

Your mate tsks as he looks at you, his shadows holding you down so you can’t move. They start touching your entrance, their cool, airy touch leaving you needing more.

He stands a few feet away from you, his drink in his hand as he watches his shadows hold you in place to keep you from squirming. Your back arches as they snuck under your bra, pinching your nipples. He chuckles into his drink as a few shadows start circling your clit, your moans a clear indication of how good they feel against you.

His shadows found their way in your shared bed, usually assisting Azriel in touching you or holding you down. On rare occasions such as this, Azriel lets them do as they please, allowing them to lay as much claim to you as he does.

It was euphoric the way they caressed against your exposed skin, never staying still. They whirled and swirled up your legs, your arms, through your hair, around your waist, your breasts. They were enjoying this time with you.

Azriel walks over to the bed, lust coating his eyes and his scent as he asks, “had enough yet?”

You open your mouth to speak, but some shadows circle your neck, applying a light pressure so you can’t speak. Your futile attempts to respond cause him to smirk and in a flash the shadows have stopped roaming your body. Your skin warms at the loss of their cool touch, and you start to move your arms when scarred hands replace the shadows, keeping a harsh grip on your wrists.

He leans down, practically laying on top of you as he leans in and tells you, “undress me.”

Your thoughts still, that need for his skin coming back to you. You sit up immediately, reaching to unbutton his shirt, but he stops you.

“Undress me without touching my skin.”

You whine at your mate knowing exactly why you did everything that led you here. You sit up, hands shaking as you unbutton his shirt. He even turns around so you can undo the buttons underneath his wings. You can’t stop yourself from staring at them, their veins just calling out to you to stroke them, that one spot that you know drives him wild calling to you like a siren.

He chuckles at how long you’ve spent observing him, your eyes taking in every inch of his back. The toned muscles, the tattoos on his upper back, the spot where his back meets the wings.

You find yourself starting to reach out, your fingers inches from his wing when he clears his throat.

“I’m still wearing pants,” he says, in an unimpressed tone. You gasp, the trance on his wings broken as he turns around, allowing you access to his front.

Your eyes roam his torso, the tattoos on the front completing the shapes from the back. You watch his chest rise and fall as he breathes, as your eyes get caught on that line of hair that delves into his pants.

You reach a hand out to undo the laces of his pants, your hands shaking a bit as you do so. From need for him and from fear of punishment if you break another rule, you’re not sure which is influencing the shaking of your hands more.

You take a deep breath as your hands find the top of his pants, taking extra care to avoid his skin. You start pulling his pants down, receiving no help from your mate until they are around his ankles and he steps out of them.

You look at him, standing there in his black boxer briefs, practically drooling thinking about what lays underneath them. You’re gazing at his thighs, looking at the toned muscles he trains every day. He flexes a little at your gaze and you gasp at the movement.

The urge to run your hands up and down his thighs is taking over your senses, until his hand grabs your jaw, moving your gaze to look at his clothed hardened length.

His silent command gets you moving again, and you grab the waistband of his undershorts, pulling them down, taking care as it moves over his length.

His hard cock springs up, hitting his abdomen as it’s freed. You moan at the sight of it, but continue your quest to pull them all the way down. He steps out of them again, and moves to the side of you to lay down on the bed.

He lays there for a beat, his Adonis-like stature warming you from the inside. He grabs your waist, moving each of your legs to straddle him, but keeping you about a foot away from him.

He lines up his hard cock to your entrance, leaving you to hover a few inches away from him. You moan, needing him to let you slide onto him, needing him inside you.

“P-please,” you moan, practically drooling at the sight of the pre-cum spreading down him. He purrs, “My greedy little mate needs my cock, does she?”

You nod your head, but he tuts at you. “Use your words.”

You look at him, his teasing smirk telling you just how much he’s enjoying this. “Can I p-please sit on your cock, feel you inside of me?”

His smirk deepens, and he tells you to go ahead. You start sliding him into you, moaning at the way he’s stretching you. He’s still keeping you in place with his hands, and he helps you guide down onto him.

Once you feel him completely fill you up, you start to move, only to be held back. His hands keep you still, not allowing you to budge. You whine, needing to ride him, needing to fill him pumping in and out of you. He sees how desperately you need him and smiles.

“But darling, this is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

It’s too much, you need to move. His hands were pressed so hard into your hips, keeping you both in place and keeping himself as deep into you as possible. You can feel them digging into your skin, leaving perfect finger shaped bruises to be found tomorrow.

You could have been sitting there for minutes or days and you’d have no clue. Time crept on, your mate keeping you in the same spot, despite your whining and pleading.

His shadows kept busy, keeping a hold on your hands behind your back, but also by circling your nipples, pinching you. They continued swirling up your thighs, enjoying overstimulating you.

The stimulation becomes too much, with tears eventually leaking down your face, which the shadows gently caress away. Azriel finally speaks, his long silence another form of punishment. His words are usually full of praise for you, except for when you misbehave.

“Now, why am I doing this to you?” He asks, looking into your face.

“Because I was a bad girl.”

He spanks you, hard, the action startling a whimper out of you. His hand rests back on your hips, keeping you in place. “Tell me every bad thing you did tonight.”

And so you did, each action earning a swift slap on your ass.

“I left you to go to the bar by myself.”

Spank.

“I talked to another male.”

Spank.

“I danced with another male.”

Spank.

In between each confession, he held tightly to your ass, rubbing the pain in. At this rate, you’ll hardly be able to sit tomorrow without feeling the sting of this punishment.

After finally reaching the point of the night where you had greeted him with a shriek, the tears were streaming down your face, your ass covered in his hand prints.

“Now, who do you belong to?”

“You.” You tell him, tears clouding your vision. “I won’t disobey you again.”

He chuckles lowly, “oh I know you won’t.” He lifts you off of himself, a whine coming from you as he pulls you off his cock. “Now you’ve made quite a mess on me,” you look down, his thighs and cock covered in a sheen of your juices. “Clean it up.”

Hands still behind your back, you lean forward, licking his thighs, tasting yourself mixed with his sweat.

“Can you taste the desperation?”

You whine, as he holds your head down to his thighs. After successfully cleaning both of his thighs, he guides your head right in front of his cock, the tip mere inches from your mouth.

You’re staring at it, needing it inside you, watching pre-cum leak out of the tip, when he laughs at you.

“Drooling over my cock already?”

You blush, not realizing you had actually drooled over the appendage in front of you.

“Do you want a taste?” He asks, and you nod vigorously. “Stick out your tongue,” he tells you, and you immediately obey. He allows you to roam his cock with your tongue, tasting both of your juices mixed together.

“Put me in your mouth.”

You open your mouth, allowing him entry, and he immediately begins pushing in and out of you. He grabs your hair, holding you in place. You look up at him and he makes direct eye contact with you as he pushes himself as far into your mouth as he can go. He tells you, “I’m going to cum in your mouth, but you’re not allowed to swallow it. Got it?”

He pulls a little harder on your hair to tell you he’s serious. His shadows hold you in place as he fucks your mouth, until you feel him pick up the pace.

After a minute of his intense thrusting, he’s cumming in your mouth, his hot seed shooting into your throat.

“Now open.” He tells you, and when you open your mouth, he smirks at the semen in your mouth. Before you realize it, he spits in your mouth and tells you to close it.

“Now,” he tells you, his face right in front of yours, “no swallowing. I want you to be full from my cum in your mouth and your cunt, in hopes you can get it through your dumb little head that you belong to me.”

He’s pushed you onto your back and has slid back into you. An attempt at a moan comes out but is blocked by the semen in your mouth.

He chuckles, “you don’t want to know what will happen if you swallow before I tell you to.”

He starts pumping into you, filling you with his cock. He’s thrusting in and out of you, and you’re not sure you can take anymore when he moves a hand down and begins fingering you.

You close your eyes and tilt your head back in pleasure, unable to moan because of the cum in your mouth. You’re getting close, all of his attention and teasing being too much. You feel it building for both you and your mate. You know he’s close, his speed increasing drastically.

“You’re going to swallow right as I cum in you. Can you do that? Can you be a good girl for one minute?”

You nod your head yes, but the ecstasy you feel is making thoughts incredibly difficult. He wraps a hand around your throat, his thumb stroking the front of your neck.

“Swallow. Now.”

It all happens so fast. You swallow the mixture of spit and cum, the salty tang sliding down your throat. Azriel finishes inside of you, his cum filling you up triggering you to finish.

You lay there, him on top of you. Both of you are panting, unable to form thoughts or words to describe what just happened. Azriel rolls off of you, moving to your side.

He strokes your cheek and asks, “You okay?”

Your hand slowly rises to his field of vision, and you give a thumbs up. He laughs, caressing your face before getting up and getting you a rag. He comes back, helping you clean up while you’re half asleep.

“You’re hot when you’re jealous,” you tell him, falling asleep as he discards the washcloth and crawls into bed with you, wrapping you into his arms.

[milkteabinniechan]

Professor Chan

Possessive Chan x !female reader

warnings : implied age difference (reader is over 18!) Just smut, probably typos

I love writing about possessive Chan so please let me know if you want more <3

You knew when his offive hours were. You had memorized the hours. You fantasized. You lost track of time in his classes, staring at his hands, his lips, the way he walked across the lecture hall. He spoke so passionately about everything. He would recite poetry with fire in his eyes. And every time he made eye contact with you, your body shudder. Jesus Christ, your body would literally shudder. You'd lick your lips and close your legs together, squeezing around nothing. An emptiness you were begging him to fill. You weren't even subtle about it anymore. Your eyes glossy with need and desire. You wanted him to see you. Really see you. You were all his.

Now you were here. On his desk. During office hours. Unbuttoning his slacked black pants. His hands gently around your neck while his lips traces kisses down your neck. Once his zipper reached the end of it's line, you reach in eagerly to pull him out completely. You chuckled deeply into your neck at your readiness. It was making him hungier. You wrapped a hand around the base of his cock, the girth of him pulsing into your palm. God, he was huge. You found yourself praying to a god you didn't believe in to will you the strength to take him completely.

"I want you to teach me something, professor." You spoke softly. A small smirk grew as Chan lifted one of your thighs high to give him the best view. A string of wetness spread across your center and you exposed yourself to your teacher. Your heart began to race faster as his hand gripped tighter around your thigh. His other hand grabbed your chin to pull your focus to his eyes. You were very focused on another, larger, part of him.

"are you ready?" His question was genuine. He was focused on your face, waiting for your answer. Unmoving until you responded. "Yes. Yes. Yes." You answered in slow succession. You wanted him to hear every single Yes you uttered. With that, Chan began to slide in you. Slowly at first, the sensation of fullness already becoming too much. You grabbed onto his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you from levitating off of the Earth itself. This man. This man.

Chan was now farther inside of you. Not completely. But enough now he could grip your ass and help you move into him. You started a rhythm with him almost instantly. Both of you pushing and thrusting. His hips bucked into you and you saw stars. Your hand was wrapped around his tie now. A red tie. You loved when he wore the red tie. The leverage it gave you allowed you pick up speed. A primal growling rose from your professor.

"Am I doing good, sir?" You begged for approval. You loved it. You needed it.

"You're doing so good. Look at you. You're doing so good for me." Chan was picking up speed now. You were leaving a mess on his desk, you could feel it beneath you. You were so close. His full length now inside you entirely. Your core becoming so hot, your release was reaching its peak now and you were near falling apart. In danger of being left a puddle on his desk.

As you screamed through your climax, Chan pressed a hand over your mouth, still thrusting vigorously. "You'll have to be quiet, another class might hear you." He said with a smile.

He loved the thought of that as much as you did. You broke apart for him and his eyes promised to put you right back together again. You just hoped this wouldn't be the last time you came to visit him during office hours.

[minnillea]

HIGH RISE (Keegan P. Russ X Reader)

This one is so filthy idunno what to say. (3.8k words) It’s 3am so-

CW: MDNI!, NSFW, Smut, dom Keegan, sub fem reader, typical canon violence, interrogation, edging, restraints, dubcon, pure filth, choking, masked man ajjsjsjsjsjd, primal play, degradation, praise if you squint, pet names, hair pulling, hate sex, creampie, knife play, and it’s enemies to lovers<3 You are literal enemies so good luck! :D

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･''･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･''･*:.｡. .

You were clearing the area with your team as planned. You were behind a desk, looking through your scope and offering support from afar by taking down targets in the opposing building. It was all a breeze until you saw him.

"Shit.." You cuss under your breath, feeling like the world is coming to a stop as you hold your breath. Every time you saw this man, everything went to hell. He was such a pain in the ass, and now he was looking directly at you through his scope, sending a chill down your spine.

In a fraction of a second, you pulled the trigger on him and immediately ducked down to take cover, only to hear a deafening buzz in your ears as a bullet hurtled over your head. You harshly fell down with your back against the desk before you quickly crawled to the opposite side. You could feel your heart beating out of your chest as you wondered if he was still there.

(Why the fuck is that fiend here? How did they get ahead of us?!) Your thoughts raced as you calmed down.

Suddenly, the impact of a bullet bursting through the desk and making debris scatter caught your attention. Your heart sank as it barely brushed over your shoulder. You had to move, and now.

You threw smoke and started running towards the hall on your left. As the smoke covered the corners of the room, you caught a glimpse of him on a zip line with a gun ready. He looked at you dead in the eye, making your stomach sink.

You sprinted faster and hid in one of the rooms as you heard the loud smashing of the glass. The presence of him and his team changed everything, you needed to regroup and fast.

You tried whispering to your teammates over the mic as you cautiously looked around the room, but no one was answering, frustrating you further. You took notice of the huge hole in the window. As you attempted to get a better look down, some faint rustling seized your attention.

You stayed low as you aimed at the door, waiting for him to come nearby. Then you heard some soft metallic clinking as you saw a grenade bounce into the room.

(Oh fuck, I don't wanna find out what that is.) You think as you quickly run over your options.

It all happens quickly. Your eyes widened as you ran sideways towards the shattered window of the office, keeping a guarded eye on the busted door. You looked down before letting yourself fall, grabbing onto a hanging cable someone left behind. You felt the line digging into your skin with great force through thick gloves as you went through a broken window two floors below.

You fell down on a pile of shattered glass, and a huge shard dug into your leg, making you hiss in pain.

All kinds of commotion and screams could be heard around the building as you limped towards an elevator to call it.

You only wanted to get as far away from him as fast as possible.

Your eyes flickered around tensely before you heard a faint noise and then realized that it was the elevator ding. The doors opened, and you made your way in as someone dove through to tackle you.

You gasped as you immediately aimed a pistol, shooting at the intruder, and to your dismay, it was him.

Keegan quickly knocked the gun out of your hand and then roughly wrapped his arm around your neck, strangling you. You struggled against him but couldn't free yourself from his deadly grip.

You groaned and pulled out a dagger to aim for his neck as a last resort.

Keegan moved his head out of the way in a swift motion, and your dagger slashed his cheek through his mask instead, drawing blood.

Then he forcefully slammed you down onto the elevator floor. He pinned your arms down with a hand and put his knee on your chest, making it difficult to breathe. He put his other hand around your throat and began to tighten his grip as his other leg was putting pressure on both of yours to stop you from kicking frantically.

You gasped in shock as you looked directly into his eyes, out of options as you could feel the warm blood pool around your injured leg.

Your heart was beating out of your chest, and his hand was squeezing harder and harder around your throat. You looked up at him desperately, but he just looked back with cold, blue eyes. You could feel your body failing under his weight.

You spotted a crimson stain forming below in the corner of your eye, and you knew your chances weren't good.

The world was beginning to fade around you as you tried to breathe, but he only looked down at you, his face showing no emotion.

The elevator suddenly dinged again...

Your eyes darted towards the door, and as your body went limp, a gunshot rang out.

You slowly came to, opening your eyes to find yourself tied to a chair. You noticed a piece of cloth and gauze wrapped tightly around your injured leg. Your hands were tied behind your back, and your legs were securely bound to the chair legs with some rope. You strained against the ropes and tried to move, but you were completely tied down. You make out Keegan's figure as he walks towards you and haphazardly pulls a chair in front of you.

He sits down without saying a word, his legs spread and his arms resting on his thighs uncaringly. His gaze is cold and unwavering.

You'd never seen him up close before; you only caught some glimpses of him here and there, and you hated him deeply. Even though you had given him a fair share of headaches before, you couldn't help but despise him for always making things so difficult.

He leaned forward as his husky voice drew your attention. “Well, aren’t you a little troublemaker, kid?” He teases with a slight smirk showing under his mask. “You know exactly what I want.” He said in a more serious tone with dangerous eyes.

You only stayed silent as you glowered at him.

“C’mon gorgeous, you can say a few words, or I can force them out of you.” He smirked devilishly as he tilted his head.

You scowl and turn your head away in defiance.

He grabs you by the chin and forces you to look at him. “Look at me when I’m talking to you” He spoke with an intimidating snarl before taking a friendlier tone. “So, this is how it is going to be?” He says mockingly. “Don't make me hurt you, sweetheart. I’ll make you talk one way or another.” He warns you as he locks eyes with you.

You look back at him with disdain, your lips tightly pursed, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

Keegan's expression remains unchanged as he speaks. “Let me tell you something, doll…I know how much we hate each other, but it would be very smart of you if you cooperated.”

You keep your head up to glare at him. “Oh, hate is a really strong word, isn’t it?” You say sarcastically, earning a chuckle from him. “I’m not telling you shit.” You hissed at him with a glare.

You frustrated Keegan deeply, but there was something about it that drew him to you.

Keegan grins and leans closer to you. “No, you're not only telling me everything." He brushes his gloved thumb softly across your lips. “You'll show me everything too.” He whispered lowly before he stood up and walked behind you, his steps echoing through the room as your mind wandered. You felt conflicted.

Shortly, he strolled back into your view and carelessly tossed a metal tray with some tools onto the table, his hand resting on the edge of the desk.

You attempt to glance at the tray's contents, but he obstructs the view with his broad back while running his fingers through it, creating a chilling metallic clacking sound.

You can't help but be mesmerized by the sight of his physique.

Keegan slowly turns around and glances directly at you with his icy eyes, catching you in the middle of your sinful thoughts. The black smudge around his eyes only makes his stare more compelling.

"Oh, you’ll bring toys into it now?” You say in a teasing tone.

He grinned as he sat back onto the chair and ran a sharp blade up your thigh, making you tense up. He was very close, one of his knees in between your legs and a hand on top of your other thigh as he toyed with you. Your heart flutters as the subtle scent of petrichor and musk coming from him reaches your nose.

“What? You are the one who wanted to play with me, or you’ve changed your mind?” He says in a sultry yet mocking tone.

You hear his words very clearly; his breath tickles your ear. You look up, his eyes boring into yours. Even though you do not want to, you feel attracted to him, just a little bit, but you can't stand it! You can't stand the way he makes you feel. You hate him so much it hurts, but a part of you wants him.

“I'd rather die than to help you." You spit out in a deadpan manner.

"Oh, sweetheart. There are far worse things than death." He says in a fake compassionate tone as he moves the blade up to your inner thigh, cutting through your clothes in the process. The feeling of the cold blade against your plush skin gives you chills.

Now that he's sitting in front of you, you have a clear view of the tray behind him.

You see a hammer, a screwdriver, cutters, nails, rope, metal wire, syringes, tweezers, pliers, a lighter, and a saw blade.

You feel a wave of anxiety wash over you as you take in a sharp breath.

Keegan whispers as he cups your chin and tilts it to the side. “It’s such a shame to ruin this pretty face of yours.” He brings the blade up and slowly slits across the skin of your cheek, drawing some blood as you feel the stinging sensation.

You suck in a breath, turning your head to look at him with pleading, fearful eyes.

As much as he hates it, it has an effect on him. He leans in closer to your face to speak in a soft tone as his eyes darken slightly. “What is it now? Not so brave anymore?” He raises a brow as he carefully studies you; the rosy blush on your cheeks doesn't go unnoticed by him while he continues to hold your chin “If you think I haven't noticed your little game with me...the way you look at me...you're in for a surprise, princess." He smirks as you feel a tinge of embarrassment mixed in with fear.

You two stare into each other’s eyes in complete silence. He is in such close proximity to you and your silly head wishes he’d press his lips on yours. It seems like you are having a full-blown conversation with just glances when a knock on the door, accompanied by someone talking to Keegan through his earpiece, makes him lean away from you in annoyance.

You exhale softly as the tension briefly dissipates, and you glance at him with curious eyes as he responds in a dull tone.

“Roger that. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.” His piercing eyes immediately dart towards yours when he is done; it’s hard to tell what’s going on through his mind.

“Fuck this.” He hisses, frustrated, as he gets up and hastily cuts the ropes around your legs.

You always got a rise out of him and it was quite amusing but if he had a choice, he wouldn’t inflict any harm upon you.

Before you can register what’s happening, he pushes you out of the chair and slams you against the cold metal desk, making you gasp.

Your hands are still tied behind your back as he holds you down by your neck and kicks your legs apart.

His hand squeezes around your throat with the right amount of pressure to keep you in place.

“You are lucky I’m giving you a chance, and you better not waste it.” He seethes in between his teeth as he undresses your lower half abruptly before skillfully rolling the knife in between his fingers to make it turn the other way in a flash.

You feel the cold air hit your behind as your eyes widen when he slams the handle of the blade into you with a lewd squelch.

You let out a chocked-out moan as you flinched. He keeps you pinned in place as he wraps his long fingers over the cross guard of the knife and starts pumping it in and out of you.

You whined and tightened around the object as you squirmed.

“You like to play dirty, don't you?” He teases with a hoarse voice as he moves the hilt so it hits the perfect angle, observing the dripping slick sticking to it in the process with vicious eyes.

Your mind is trying to think clearly; you're struggling with yourself. Your legs twitch as you moan pathetically in result of his actions.

He keeps you like this for a while, and you rapidly feel that the coil that formed in your stomach is about to snap.

Your muscles tense up more, and he quickly yanks his hand away, making you whine in frustration.

“Aww, what’s wrong?” He says in a faux compassionate tone. “You don’t get to cum if you don’t talk.” He says rubbing circles on your inner thigh with a gloved thumb.

You turned your head to glare at him with scoff. He chuckled darkly, leaning forward and pressing his body against yours, matching your energy with his own spiteful stare.

He then proceeded to tantalize you by rubbing the round end of the hilt against your sensitive clit, making you quiver.

You tried to keep your head cool as he kept edging you for what felt like hours, denying orgasm after orgasm. Your eyes watered as your thoughts got lost in a feverish haze.

You have so many mixed feelings in your chest right now, and you know you shouldn't be feeling this way about him. But no matter how hard you try to resist against it, you can't stand the way he makes you feel. You hated that you wanted him, and you knew damn well that if you didn’t talk soon, stuff was going to get real ugly. You craved his touch badly.

You looked back at him with needy eyes and parted lips as your heart skipped a beat.

Your gaze quickly attracts his attention, the way you're so vulnerable to him, your flushed face, your parted lips as you try to catch more air in your lungs, how you try to rub against him desperate for contact, it drives him crazy.

Keegan is completely under a spell.

His gaze deepens as he looks down directly into your eyes. You don't know what to think. But the way he looks at you...

He chuckled lowly at the sight with a frown. “You want my cock, don’t you filthy little thing? You know what to do for it.” He said in a condescending manner, enjoying how he was toying with you.

“Fuck you.” You growled at him with completely flushed cheeks, trying to act tough.

He grins mischievously and speaks in a daring tone. “Say it like you mean it, princess. How about I fuck you instead?”

“Mmm f-fine” You groaned softly before your lips started to spill everything to him, and you let your head rest back on the desk in defeat.

“Attagirl~” He cooed as you could hear some metallic clinging coming from his belt behind you.

His hand left your neck and before you tried to look back, it tugged a handful of your hair as he rammed his aching cock into you without a warning.

You moaned loudly as you felt the air get knocked out of your lungs and he pulled your head back by your hair.

“Fuck…what a grip.” He grunted breathily as he held your waist with the other hand.

He could feel your gummy walls greedily clutching around his length as moans left your lips when he started a relentless pace.

You let yourself go and rolled your eyes back as he fucked you so good.

His hand left your waist and picked up the knife again.

He slowly traced the blade in between your breasts, slitting through the fabric and up your neck until he held it at eye level for you. You noticed it was covered on your dripping slick as he spoke.

“See how dirty that slutty cunt of yours got it? Clean it up.” He demanded dryly as he kept thrusting into you.

Your breathing was heavy as you lewdly ran your tongue flat across the hilt and up the metallic blade, getting a taste of yourself.

You moaned as you finished cleaning it before he placed the sharp end of the cold blade against your neck, barely grazing your skin.

“I think you are forgetting an important little detail, aren’t you?” He speaks with an edge to his voice as he keeps the strong grip on your hair.

“Ahh! I don’t r-really know where he is! T-they don’t tell me stuff like tha-“ You moan out as he harshly thrusts into you with deep disdain to shut you up.

“Wrong answer. Let's try that again, shall we?" He presses the sharp blade against your throat as he talks with venom laced words. “Where…plap…is…plap…he…plap…staying?” He speaks in between rough thrusts as you moan loudly.

You try to form words as best as you can to no avail as you shake under him. You feel like you’ll loose your mind as he fucks you deeply, stretching you out. He grins after he sees how fucked dumb you are, too lost in pleasure. You're completely under his control as he speaks to you again.

“What was that? Mind repeating it again? Or I can stop.” He speaks with cruelty as tears roll down your face.

“N-no, no, no! P-please don’t s-top, sir!” You whine out as he keeps bullying his cock into you, hitting all the good spots.

“Then speak up.” He says coldly as he lets go of your hair and you do your best to keep your head up to avoid the sharp end of the knife.

You start talking again as you feel his gloved hand sliding under your clothes, he feels the bulge he is causing on your abdomen and presses against it, making your breath hitch in result of the added pressure.

You did your best to finish the sentence in between moans and heavy panting as he roughly gropped your breasts.

Your words sound honest to him this time and you are clearly enjoying the way he is pounding into you.

“Good girl~ It wasn’t so hard, wasn’t it?” He purrs beside your ear content as you become mush under him, feeling like your body is burning up.

He drops the knife with a clang to hold onto your hip as his other hand snakes up your back to meet your mouth.

He runs his thumb across your trembling lips before you stick out your tongue lewdly and he slowly rubs the rough pad of his digit downwards.

“Hmm! You f-feel s’good!” You moan out in ecstasy, not really aware of the stuff you were saying by now, as you felt like you were about to snap yet again due to the way he was ravaging you. It’s as if he was using this moment to get back at you for all the times you’d gotten on his nerves.

He chuckled with a soft, breathy groan. “Ah, I thought you hated me to death, dear? Maybe I should punish you for lying and just leave now that I got what I wanted.” He teased in a cold-hearted tone as he removed his finger from your mouth, with sticky strings of spit clinging onto it obscenely.

“F-fuck! No! p-please let me cum on your fat cock sir!” You wailed out in despair as your head fell against the desk, and you looked at him with big teary eyes.

He chuckled darkly as he saw the dumbed down state you were in. It’s as if all you cared about right now was being stuffed to the brim with cock.

“Relax, kid. I'm not that vile... or maybe I am?" He delivered the last part with malicious intent, tilting his head and locking eyes with you, mischief present in his cruel stare.

You whined out more as you shook your head in a tantrum.

He cooed you with a husky voice as he leaned down more, pressing his heated body against yours. “Easy there, I’ll give you what you want, darling.” He cupped your chin with his hand to stop you from moving frantically and softly kissed your cheek through the mask to calm you down as the fingers of his other hand rubbed comforting circles on your hip.

You seemed to be immediately soothed by his touch, and you rolled your eyes back before shutting them tightly as little moans left your lips. He firmly held your hips with both of his hands as he kept up the relentless pace, digging his fingers into your skin.

He cussed under his breath as you clenched harder around him, and in no time you finally came as you quivered erratically.

He let a low grunt out as he painted your insides white, and your arousal gushed all over him.

You mewled out as he gave you a couple more sloppy thrusts. He levered himself down with both hands at your sides on the desk to give you a quick kiss on top of your head before he pulled out.

You whined softly as you felt his hot cum overflow from your poor pussy. He stood behind you, his eyes fixed on your body as he took in the view.

“Now, that wasn’t that bad, wasn’t it?” He raised a brow at you playfully as he quickly fixed his belt in place before pulling your pants up.

You looked back at him with soft eyes as you panted heavily. “I’ll gladly take this over getting my fingernails pulled out slowly one by one, followed by my fingers.” You say playfully out of breath as you quivered slightly.

“I figured.” He replied stoically as he moved your hair out of your face with a brush of his fingertips before he checked up on a device he had pulled out with his other hand.

“They wanted to start exactly like that with you, but I wouldn’t let them." He said nonchalantly as his eyes flickered through the screen and he patted your head; his gentle touch made you melt. You slowly close your eyes with tranquility as you enjoy how he warmly runs his fingers through your hair.

“Wait what-“ You say snapping out of the daze before he speaks over you.

“Gotta go, till later, hot stuff.” He turned around, giving you a wink mid-turn as he swiftly spun the knife between his fingers to put it away before he sauntered out of the room, holding the metal tray in one of his hands.

You were left alone as the door closed with a faint click. You could only hear your breathing and your racing heart in the empty room.

You sighed softly as you laid down on your stomach, exhausted yet satisfied.

You started drifting to sleep while you went over the series of events that just happened, and you remembered that your leg got patched up with extra care. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all…

[avoxrising]

The Feral One • Chapter 2

Finnick x Reader

Series Masterlist Link

I had some down time while my flight was delayed so here’s another chapter! Hopefully chapter 3 will come out in a few days but we shall see. Thanks for all the love on the first chapter!

Content warnings - flashback to prostitution assault and detailed descriptions of killing/death

You weren’t always known as a feral victor. Sure, some of your kills in the arena were a bit much, but it’s not uncommon to see that behavior in the games. It is a fight to the death after all. What is uncommon, however, is that literal fight continuing afterwards.

After the incident with the first doctor, which was kept quiet from the public at first, Snow believed you would still be of use from him. He thought the capital doctors could “fix you” and make you “civilized” again. He’s lucky he always had guards with him, or he would have ended up on your list.

Finnick, your mentor, thought that your post-arena violence might save you from his fate in the capital. He tried to convince Snow that it wasn’t a good idea to assign you clients, that you were unpredictable and things could go very wrong. Snow thought it would be fine.

“Sure she may put up a fight,” he told Finnick, “most of them do. But, I don’t think that should be an issue for her client. He could break her quite easily if he needed to.”

And break you he did, just not physically. It was you who did the physical breaking.

You didn’t mean to kill him, nor anyone else outside the arena, but his grotesque hands roaming your body triggered something deep inside you; a primal instinct you first felt in the arena. It was kill or be killed.

You tried to push through it. Snow had warned you what would happen to your family if you didn’t comply. But laying there being completely violated by this capital man broke the only pieces of you that had survived the arena. Your mind had convinced itself that you were out of options.

The man’s avox had phoned the police when she heard him scream, but they weren’t fast enough. He was so engrossed in his actions that he didn’t notice the way your eyes turned cold, or the way you stopped protesting.

Less than two minutes later, he was dead. You still can’t shake the feeling of his eyeballs under your nails, or the sound he made as you crushed his esophagus. The worst part was having to unattach yourself from him when the ordeal was over. You didn’t even protest when the police entered. They sedated you and carried you off, away from the scene of your crime.

Did you mean to kill him? No.

Do you regret it? Absolutely not.

The only thing you regret is coming out of that arena alive; but what’s done is done and there’s no going back.

Your prep team won’t go anywhere near you for the parade, which is quite the dilemma. How the hell were you supposed to get ready? You’re surprised a stylist designed something for you at all, or that they’re even letting you participate for that matter.

Apparently, your stylist didn’t design the outfit. He said that his mentor, Tigress, wanted to design something for you specifically but she is banned from the games so he volunteered to bring her design to you. He’s the first person in the capital who doesn’t seem terrified to be in your presence, but the peacekeepers still won’t let him near.

You’re forced to dress in front of the peacekeepers. They uncuff you at least but it’s still uncomfortable. You would strangle them all right now but unfortunately there would be consequences.

Snow paid you a visit last night. He told you exactly what would happen if you went “feral” before the games.

“We wouldn’t want Mr. Odair’s pedestal to malfunction while he was standing on it, would we?” he stated. “Or for Mrs. Flanagan to come down with a horrible illness. That would be quite unfortunate.”

You had to do everything possible to keep yourself under control, but even that could only help so much. The rage you felt inside was growing and it wasn’t calming down anytime soon.

“Why isn’t it ready yet?” the shrill voice of Linessa calls to the peacekeepers outside of your room.

“No prep team would touch her,” they tell her. “The tribute is getting herself dressed.”

“Move,” Finnick states as he pushes past the group to enter your room. You’re mostly clothed but are having issues with zipping up the back of your gown.

It’s a beautiful blue gown that hugs your skin before flaring out just below your hips. The stylist explained it as, “The image of a silent siren. A deeply misunderstood mythological creature of the ocean.”

Finnick slowly approaches, making sure you can see his hands.

“Can I help get you ready?” he asks. “We need to be out there soon.”

You nod and turn so he can zip up your dress. The feeling of his hands on your back causes you to tense up but you grit your teeth and remind yourself it’s just Finnick.

Practically grinding your teeth dull, you let Finnick do a simple makeup look on you to match your outfit. You wish you could give him an outfit instead of a net but neither you nor Mags have a say in the matter. You especially don’t.

Finnick is especially careful not to touch the scar that runs down the side of your face. You got it during your games and the capital doctors refused to polish it off after you killed one with a scalpel for taking your temperature. You wish you had the temperament to let him cover it up with the makeup but you know it would set you off.

When he’s done, the peacekeepers come and recuff your wrists but leave your feet free so you don’t trip in the dress.

“She doesn’t need those,” Finnick tells them.

“I’m sorry Mr. Odair but these are direct orders from Snow,” they state.

“Will you remove them before the parade?” he asks.

“No,” they state. Mags whispers something to Finnick and he nods in understanding before approaching you slowly.

“Hey,” he calmly states. “I need to go talk to some people before the parade. Stay with Mags and I’ll come get you before we start.” You nod and he leaves.

The peacekeepers force you and Mags out to where the chariots are, but make you stay along the edge of the stables where they can keep an eye on you. They wouldn’t want any of the “excitement” to start before the games begin.

You can see Finnick talking to Katniss, last year’s victor. You don’t really know any of the other victors besides Finnick and Mags. They know all about you, of course, but none of them care enough to get to know you. The only one who has ever spoken to you (over the phone of course) is Johanna Mason of District 7. She’s pretty close with Finnick and they talk all the time. You would be jealous if Finnick didn’t practically live at your place and spend all his time with you. Plus Johanna hates people.

“Hey feisty!” you hear Johanna call as she approaches you. Finnick has shown you pictures of her but outside of that and watching her games you had only ever heard her voice. The peacekeepers move to block her but one glare from her sends them away. “How’s life outside of your cell?”

You give her a thumbs down and she laughs in response, catching the attention of the other tributes.

“Well I give it double thumbs down,” she states.

“Johanna!” you hear a male yell. “Get your ass over here.”

“Ugh Blight’s calling,” Johanna groans. “See ya later feisty!”

You think you’re done socializing for today when you’re approached by a young blond boy. He doesn’t protest when the peacekeepers keep him five feet away.

“Hi y/n,” he states. “I’m Peeta. I don’t think we’ve met yet.”

You give him a blank stare as you study him. Something about you feels like he’s harmless, but you can’t be too sure.

“Ah Melark,” Gloss booms as he approaches the boy. “Don’t take it personal. Feral doesn’t talk.”

It’s clear these two haven’t met before as Peeta looks a bit scared of the career. You’d met Gloss once before your games as he was your allies’ mentor, but you haven’t spoken in years. Him and Finnick aren’t close.

“Oh, uh I’m sorry,” Peeta stutters. He glances over his shoulder to see Finnick flirting with Katniss. “Uh nice to meet you I guess.”

Peeta looks harmless, but looks can be deceiving. Katniss, on the other hand, looks like trouble.

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[meet-you-at-the-north-star]

Let Me In

Eric Northman x human! Reader

Summary: inspired by scenes from ep. 3x02 & 3x03 as well as a couple other plot points in the show (but plot is quite vague anyway)

Word count: 1517

“You’re going to invite me in” he stated, slowly, in that gentle purr his voice always sounded to my ears.

I took a step back, partially to hide the jolt that went through my body at those words. “And why would I do that?”

I wondered if he could sense the change in pace of my palpitations. They were yet to invent a way to disguise that from a vampire's super hearing.

“So I can protect you” He took a step forward. Then another, equally measured. “Or have passionate primal sex with you”.

When my hands touched the wood of the door behind me he stopped, slightly tilting his head: “Possibly both”

I gulped. I didn’t even realize that I had been backing away.

“You’re not gonna distract me by talking nasty” I said, perfectly aware that I was the one trying to distract him from the effect he was having on me.

He smirked, leaning down and invading even more of my personal space. “I already have”.

“So…are you going to invite me in?”

“That’s not how it works” I scolded him, a warning look on my face.

“Pity” He leaned back. “As soon as you let me know what the rules are, I’ll be more than happy to play along”

I stared at him for a moment, different streams of thoughts racing through my brain. “Do you really think something might happen to me tonight?”

“There’s a good chance it might. Tonight, the night after that, it doesn’t make much of a difference. I’d rather be safe than sorry” He cut short.

“Alright. I am going to invite you in…” I began, placing my hand on his chest to stop him from taking another step forward. “If you promise not to cross this threshold and to leave me alone the minute I do.”

“Well, that’s no fun”

“Eric.”

He nodded. “I promise. If that’s what you want”

“It is” I lied, but he didn’t need to know that. “You will be able to sense it if I’m in some kind of trouble, right?”

“Correct.”

“Good. Then you’re officially invited to come inside, Eric Northman…if I should need your help” I specified in an eloquent tone.

“Thank you.” His hand reached out to move a strand of hair behind my ear, with a tenderness that was as unexpected as disarming coming from someone like him.

I struggled to fight back the instinct to immediately take back everything I had just said, but I couldn't help but at least smile at him.

He smiled back at me and pulled his hand away. “Goodnight, Y/N”


A moment later he had literally vanished into thin air.

I closed the door behind me with a sigh, my heart now beating wildly. Sleeping was going to be no easy feat after all that.

I tried to prepare myself calmly, retracing all the steps of my usual nighttime routine in order to banish any kind of thoughts from my mind, both the positive and the negative.

When I finally got into bed, however, it was impossible to avoid those piercing blue eyes and features so beautiful they didn't seem real, which had so often populated my recent dreams.

Even though he had cheated by giving me his blood, a part of me couldn't help but think I would have dreamed of him regardless. After all, my daydreams were much the same way.

Eric’s eyes were my last conscious thought, then only darkness. And the sound of steps. Some kind of creature was approaching me. I could hear its menacing growl clearly now. I started running as fast as I could, but it seemed like the noise was only getting louder and more frightening. I turned a dark corner and my heart dropped realizing there was no way out of it. It was a dead-end. Then all of a sudden the floor opened up under my feet and I fell into an endless dark pit.

I let out a scream so loud I must have woken myself up. I felt cold arms holding me and instinctively fought to free myself from their grip, still screaming. Did the creature that was following me finally catch me?

“Hey” Two hands were cradling my face in an instant, gently. “it’s okay, it’s me, you’re alright”

I blinked once, twice and finally the fog clouding my brain started to dissipate as I found myself back in my room, staring into those blue eyes again. But this time I was only not seeing them with my mind. Usually impenetrable, they now betrayed concern as they studied my expression intently.

“What are you doing here?” I managed to utter in the end.

He looked a little uncomfortable, as if he was afraid I might be mad at him. “I sensed your fear”

It finally hit me: the chase, the panic I felt, it was all a dream. But he couldn’t tell the difference and thought I was actually in danger. I felt a blush quickly rising to color my cheeks and I rested my head against his chest to hide my embarrassment. “Oh my god, it was a stupid nightmare”

His arms slid up and down my back, holding me close in a protective grip. “It’s definitely quite a relief”

“I’m sorry you had to come all the way here for that”

“I’m not” he said, a half-smirk curving his lips.

“Eric” I leaned back and looked up at his face, trying to recover some sense of distance between us, but we were too close this time. And there was no invisible magical barrier I could cross.

He understood what I needed, slightly loosening the grip of his arms to allow me freedom of movement, but his eyes remained locked in mine. “Do you want me to go?”

I opened my mouth to respond but not a word came out. I ran a hand through my hair nervously, eyes darting everywhere until his hand came up to gently cup my chin, forcing me to bring my attention back to him.

My eyes dropped to his lips. They looked even redder in contrast to his unnaturally pale skin.

He didn’t move, waiting, while my brain performed somersaults to find any valid excuse why I shouldn’t let this happen.

It couldn’t.

I had about half a second to be surprised at my own impetuousness as I crashed my lips against his, then my mind went blank.

My hands quickly travelled up his neck and tangled in his hair, pulling him to me as our mouths explored each other, greedy and eager.

I felt the blood rushing through my veins and speeding up my heartbeat until it was a loud pounding in my ears. I should have been frightened by how vulnerable that probably made me in his presence, but I wasn’t.

I wasn’t afraid of him or this in the slightest, everything about it felt too right. The feeling of his arms surrounding me again in secure hold, his hands gripping my shoulders and then cradling my face, his lips hungry, relentlessly pressing on mine in a silent request for access.

My mouth parted with a sigh, allowing his tongue to slip inside, deepening the kiss. Our bodies were flush against one another and in the blink of an eye he’d pulled me onto his lap and my hands moved to his shoulders to regain my balance, lips still locked together in a restless dance.

“Hey!” I jokingly protested, finally parting for air after what felt like a two-hour apnea. “Some of us here still need to breathe”

“Mmm, you know that’s something I can easily remedy” He grinned, lips teasingly trailing up my neck and leaving nothing but small kisses behind.

“Don’t even think about that”

“What a shame” His eyes found mine again, thumb lightly stroking my cheek. “You’d make a stunning vampire”

I simply smiled at that, leaning down to capture his lips again. The kiss was slower this time, less frantic; but languid, our lips slowly taking their time to savor each other.

I felt him grin into the kiss as my hands moved in the small space between our bodies and started unbuttoning his shirt.

“Wait a minute” I abruptly stopped and shot him a worried look. “You can’t stay here”

He raised both eyebrows in disbelief. “You cannot be serious right now”

“No, I mean…what about the sun?”

He burst into a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “Good thing you people have invented blinds”

“True, guess humans aren’t all that bad, uh? ” I smirked.

“They have their moments” He conceded, looking at me.“But you do realize” he began, tone dropping suggestively, “that means I’m going to be stuck in this room for the entire day, right?”

I bit my bottom lip and shamelessly let my eyes wander over his messy hair and the half-unbottoned shirt on his chest, drinking it all in: he was one to talk about “stunning”. Then I brought my lips close to his ear: “I’m sure I can think of a way to keep you occupied”

[thugbiscuits]

september fic rec list 18+ only

please note: none of these fan fictions were written by me. when you read please make sure to like, comment, and reblog. IT MAKES ALL THE DIFFERENCE.

hello again, freaks >:) im really excited for this month's list. down below you'll find pretty much all the best fics (imo), of every category. it’s mostly smut happy reading!

joel miller fics

make it stick(joel miller x reader, smut) @gutsbys i loved getting to read joel’s inner thoughts.. and how nasty they are omg. i 100% need to have his babies, that’s all.

teacher’s pet (joel miller x virgin!reader, smut) @javiscigarette this fic destoryed my pussy and now i want financial compensation. read at your own risk cause whewww the details are too good. also make sure to read BOTH parts ;)

sugar rush (joel miller x f!reader, fluff) @beardedjoel super fluffy, been reading this to get me ready for spooky season and it hits me right in the feels every time

skincare sunday (joel miller x reader, fluff) @hellishjoel ahh taking care of joel? yes please. this fic is so sweet to me, that’s a real doting and caring man 😤

logan howlett fics

sweet (lumberjack!logan howlett x reader) @fairlyang #NEEDTHAT

make him do what i say (older bf!logan howlett x reader, smut) @dollfacefantasy logan with silver winged hair is superior

vis (logan howlett x afab!mutant reader, smut) @ozarkthedog all i’m saying is that fucking logan before work could save my soul idk 🤷🏽‍♀️

both (logan howlett x reader x storm, smut) @selfcarecap why is nobody talking about this, i would like to talk about this!! this had me crying, screaming and gnawing on the bars of my enclosure.

glory box (old man!logan howlett x reader, smut) @rqnarok oh? oh 😏

time after time (logan howlett x afab!reader, smut) @hyper-fixates if you like the ‘3 times you did and 1 time you didn’t trope’ then this is literally a gift from the fanfic gods !! the slowburn, all feels raaah!

handful of roses (logan howlett x reader, angst fluff) @techwrecker the way logan tries to be a good man is more than enough for me. come home the kids miss you :/

primal love (logan howlett x reader, smut) @strangererotica indeed primal, and indeed lovely. logan is such a needy lover, and this fic was written beautifully.

ex!worst logan howlett x reader, smut) @seventeenpins the banter, the audacity of this man, the AUDACITY. i’m hooked on this version of logan so badly

wade wilson (deadpool) fics

trigger control (wade wilson x girlfriend!reader, smut) @librababe99 HEART EYES

getting nasty w/ wade and logan (poolverine x reader, smut) @darnell-la self explanatory. 11/10

three is a charm (wade x f!curvy reader x logan, smut) i say this a lot but if i could physically eat a fanfic it would be this one. no doubt. i’m eating up every crumb of thissss ! @eloquentlytired

husband!wade wilson (wade wilson x fem!reader, smut) @jojissalsa perfect mix of smutty and sweet imo. wade for husband 2024

bucky barnes fics

big dick is back in town (bucky barnes x f!reader, fluff) @brunchable this was so cute (and canon in my mind). bucky has such a sense of humor in this! OP did such and amazing job on this

loverboy (bucky barnes x reader, fluff) @thevillainswhore i need that man down bad and desperate for me always ! this fic was so adorable to read, i love seeing this side of bucky. aaah such a dream

love language (bucky barnes x reader, fluff, smut) @flowersforbucky this was the sweetest thing ever!

hey, babydoll (bucky barnes x reader, fluff) @buckysmischief smoking with your favorite super soldier, what could be better than that?

hugh jackman fics

controversially young girlfriend @whimsiwitchy it’s always a pleasure when bri updates. and if you haven’t been following this series, i highly reccomend! amazing dialogue, great portrayal of hugh and reader’s romance. get this, it has even better smut. that’s all, go read!

training partners @pedroscurls we were fed with this series! hugh is such a sweetheart with reader, and it truly had me kicking my feet and giggling while reading this.

dividers by @/saradika-graphics <3

lovey’s note: i had to add my own thoughts this time around cause phew, this list had me in my feels. feel free to 100% ignore my ramblings, they don’t make sense half of the time 😂

[thoughtsfromlayla]

Chapter Five - Ostensible

Summary: Truth comes to light between the hushed whispers of destined lovers. Friends emerge in the oddest of places and flowers bloom in place of words.

Notes: ~9k words, holy fuck. Sorry this took so long, I realized that it's been literal months since I updated this story.

Warnings/Tags: Gault's funeral, Reader is slapping bitches as they should.

Tag list is open, just let me know :)

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

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Ostensible (adj.) - stated or appearing to be true, but not necessarily so

Morpheus brings you to his chest as your scream turns into buzzing breaths and you’re trying to gulp down your unrelenting fear. You push against his hold weakly, the fabric of his jacket seemingly too rough against your inflamed skin.

“How—how could you do—do that?” You scream at him through hiccups. You feel your eyes start to sting as the prickling tears start to emerge from your eyes. “I trusted you… I trusted you!”

“I fought justice with justice,” your husband answers simply. 

His response angers you in return. What is his definition of justice if he killed a person without reason? Without fair trial? You look at him with a hardening frown. 

“No, kings fight with honor and that was not honorable. You answered justice with injustice,” you accuse, hands on his chest to give yourself more room. The tears have caked themselves on your cheeks, drying and pinching the skin beneath. 

“It is as I make of it, I will not hear it!” Morpheus growls down at you, his hands gripping harder around your arms, squeezing as he screams his excuse.

Smack!

The stinging of your fingers meets the night air, the imprint of your hand swelling on Morpheus’ left cheek. His eyes are wide as it takes him a moment to realize you have struck him. When his eyes finally meet yours, he finds not the eyes of the woman he knew. 

Morpheus sees anger, resentment, and hatred in your eyes. Your lips downturned with no regret of the action you just did. His jaw hangs open, the hit stunning him. 

Matthew winces at the slap, having before been on the receiving end of it⎼even if it was under different circumstances. He and Jessamy turn around to give the two—should he call them lovers?—some privacy. The young knight follows Jessamy’s new fascination with toeing the loose garden path. This path sure is made out of path tonight… Matthew thinks to himself as he draws a pattern.

“Do not dare to touch me. Not now, not ever.” Your glare only softens when Morpheus lets you go, his fingers seemingly snapping open after realizing his grip on you.

“Forgive me,” Morpheus whispers, his head dipping in embarrassment. 

A similar apology sits heavy on your tongue for striking him, but flashbacks of how you got into this situation play in your mind. Your teeth clamp over your tongue until you taste the iron of blood.

With a deep breath, you ask a question you’re not sure you’ll get an answer to. “Why are you so angry?”

The question shakes through his core, the words ringing in unfamiliar territory. 

“I… I don’t know,” Morpheus answers slowly after a few quiet moments.

The crickets chirping fill in the growing silence as you take in his answer. With a sigh, you leave against the betterment of your judgment towards the scene of the crime.

You don’t have to look to know that Morpheus was trailing behind you. The ever-familiar sound of armor from Matthew and Jessamy follows as well.

You stop early, seeing the laying stump that is the recently passed Rodrick Burgess. In all of his past glory, real or not, here he laid for his crimes. 

Morpheus follows your eye line, squinting in the dim light of the eclipse until they widen in realization. He jogs over, and this time you’re following him with heavy and dragging footsteps. Your heart rate picks up once more and though you know he is dead for good, a primal part of you still fears he may come back to life. 

You can still feel Burgess’ scrutinizing gaze upon you and how his hands so easily wrapped themselves around your neck. The lack of power you had in the situation as your breath was taken from you, as your nails did nothing against his armor. Your hand reaches towards where he laid his hands on you and you wince as you touch the blooming bruise.

Morpheus crouches down to the body, placing the back of his hand to Burgess’ nose, and only stands back up when he concludes that he isn’t breathing anymore. He turns to you with a forlorn look on his face and his mouth agape with words that he tries to push out. 

“Forgive me, for doubting you,” Morpheus manages to squeeze out eventually. 

You turn your head away from him, staring off into the distance as his apology only skims across your ears. Morpheus’ eyes drift down towards your neck, guilt eating him alive as he sees the distinct bruise that encircled you like a noose. 

A straying hiccup is fighting its way past your throat as you hear him coming closer to you. The air is thick with tension and a wedge grows between you like the weeds that sprout between the cracks of your garden path. Even if you try to stamp them out, they will grow back because both of you are too prideful to work together. 

Your eyes retrace the dead body once again, the low light doing well to hide most of the gruesome aftereffect of Gaunt’s actions. But the smell, it permeates through the night wind and reaches your nostrils, making you sick to your stomach.

You’ve never even stepped in the kitchen when your father brought in fresh geese from his hunting trips; how do you deal with a person? The smell of death is so distinct. You turn away, the nauseating feeling of acid once again building up in your throat. 

“Please,” Morpheus calls out to you, grabbing onto the fluff of your dress. 

You turn quickly, feeling the seams ripping at the force of it. Your eyes widen as you see the great King Morpheus on his knees before you. His lithe fingers still grip your dress, the blood that had besmirched his hands transferring onto the silk and tulle. 

“Gods, what are you doing!” You curse, dropping to your knees with him.

The grass pricks at your skin but you pay it no mind, grabbing onto Morpheus’ elbows to bring him up. He doesn’t go easy, because when has he ever? He’s just as stubborn as you are.

“I am sorry, please, I am sorry,” He apologizes into your gown, head low and almost bowing on his knees. 

“Please, get up, Morpheus,” You whisper, grabbing at his elbows again and lifting him to stand with you. 

His nose and eyes are blushed red as he holds back tears and he dips his head into your neck to hide himself. He hovers just above your neck, not quite touching your skin but you can feel his shaky breath along the curve of your neck. His hands are fisted at his side as he punishes himself mentally for what he has done to you.

Despite everything, despite your pride, despite your differences, your hands wrap themselves around his head, shielding him as he trembles like a lost boy in your arms. You feel no tears hit your shoulders and it’s a sad realization indeed when you’ve concluded that, even now, Morpheus won’t let his image crack in front of others. 

Under judgment of the Celestial Lovers, the two of you remain like that for a few minutes. Silence, for once, was welcomed between the two of you. Morpheus’ breath slows down to match your speed and calms himself. 

He is the first to pull away and he doesn’t look in your eyes after. It is a subtle action that you did notice and should you not have such a caring heart as you do, one you would’ve ignored. But, you can’t and so your heart lurches out to comfort him even when your mind is pulling you in the opposite direction. 

“Where did we go wrong, Y/N?” Morpheus sighs defeatedly. 

“We never ‘went wrong’, Morpheus,” you say after a few seconds with a sigh of your own. You think back to the first day you met him, the day of your wedding, to the whispered confessions he proclaimed to someone else. “We were doomed from the start…”

“Will you let us try?” 

After all of this time? After months of neglect and loneliness? How could you possibly believe that Morpheus wants to start a relationship with you now? All of his past actions have contradicted everything that has led up to this moment. His question strikes a chord with you, and yet—

“Tell me, my lord.” You swallow your fear, gripping onto the dark cape Morpheus had draped over you previously. “Tell me of the conversation you shared with your beloved Calliope tonight and I will think about it.”

A small frown etches on Morpheus’ face. “Calliope is not my beloved,” he says first and foremost. “But, I told her that she was right after all, that we were simply not meant to be. That I do love you, it just took me a while to realize the feeling.”

“Why do I not believe you, Morpheus?” The confession was sweet, but he has yet to do anything to prove his words. “Words are not actions, and I cannot in good faith believe a single thing you have said to me tonight.” 

This time, it is you who looks away. You must steel your heart away, you cannot let it get hurt again. Even now as it beats erratically in your chest, it feels like his fingers are gripping themselves around the muscle. Your fingers tremble as they continue to grip onto the cape.

“Jessamy, let us depart.” Morpheus finally says, clearing his throat and walking away, his footsteps silent compared to your beating heart.

Morpheus plays with his bracelet, pulling at it as it grows tauter against his wrist in retaliation. It sears into his skin, leaving a new reddening bruise. Your own mimics its partner, twisting and tightening in on itself, but you had long gotten used to the pain. 

“Take me back to my room, Matthew,” you eventually say when Morpheus’ figure is no longer seen. 

You lead the way, having long since memorized the outline of the castle gardens. Your company is that of night critters as they also enjoy the early night. Fireflies dance in the air in pairs as they celebrate the yearly union. The further you walk, the more dilute the smell of death becomes. Soon you are back to smelling the subtle hints of jasmines and evening primroses as they blossom in the night. 

Blind by thoughts, you walk straight into another body, a small grunt leaving your lips. Matthew is there by your side to steady you before you even recognize what is happening. 

“Forgive me, Your Grace.” Calliope’s infamous voice comes through the night. 

“All is well,” you say, too tired to bring out the other negative emotions that usually show with her mention: jealousy, rage, resentment… No matter, not tonight. You grip onto Morpheus’ cape tighter as you make your way past her. 

“Wait,” Calliope calls out. In a moment without thought, her hands reach out for yours, gently grabbing themselves over your cold digits. 

“Hands off the Queen!” Matthew announces loudly in your ear. His nerves are on edge from all of the events that have occurred so far tonight. 

“No, Matthew, it is quite all right.” You push the knight away with the back of your hand and a ringing of his voice in your ears. 

“I simply want to say that I wish you the best of luck. Morpheus is very, shall we say… shy, about his actions. If he has not told you, we are not lovers. I stopped seeing him the day before your wedding. I just want you to know,” she rambles and you could never see it in her to do so. Yet, here she is, rambling, afraid that you would go back on your word and never speak to her again. 

“I know, Calliope,” you sigh, holding her hand in your own. “I was angry and in denial with myself when I heard those words he whispered to you on that balcony.”

“You heard that?” Calliope gasps with wide eyes. She pulls herself closer to you and her presence feels like an old friend. “I am so—” 

“I do not need any more apologies tonight, though I am thankful for your honesty. It is time to look toward the future on a more positive note. I would be honored to call you a friend, if you can forgive my own actions against you.”

“I never held that against you, Your Majesty. Being friends, it would be a dream come true.” Her hands squeeze yours like a small hug. 

“You are too kind, my lady,” you say with a smile—a real, genuine smile.

A new flower blooms that night in your garden. From the blood of your spilled enemy and the promise of your first friend within castle walls, a hybrid between forget-me-nots and lilies emerges from the late summer grass. 

Agnes greets you as soon as you step into your door. Her worry and fussing as she scans your tired face and bloody ripped dress is a contrast to her normally calm facade. She’s dragging you on your tired feet and undressing you head to toe before shoving you into an already prepared bathtub.

“Honestly, do people have no sense of decency anymore!��� She mutters to herself as she frolics throughout the bathroom grabbing at this and that. 

Agnes began throwing different creams and petals into the water, you might as well have been stew she was cooking. The water turns milky and orange like the summer firefruits the servants used to freeze for you to eat. 

You stay quiet as she begins to scrub your body down with a new sponge, the familiar roughness of it calming in an odd way. Agnes is still muttering to herself as she does so, making sure to get through every nook and cranny she can. 

The water is almost boiling hot, something that you would normally condemn but tonight you welcome it. It burns and washes away the sins and tragedies of tonight.

You’re nothing but a lump of flesh at her mercy as she suds your hair, her nails breaking apart dry blood and turning the soap brown. Her face is still tense, eyebrows furrowing as she washes away the sins of the past. 

Iron permeates the air and the nauseating smell of death comes back like a disease on the horizon. 

“Agnes, what is your opinion on the King?” You ask, half to distract yourself and half to learn more about him.

Would it be too late to learn more about your husband? Perhaps, it has been several months since you've sworn to each other for eternity. But, tonight an abundant amount of new information has come forth. Some were just speculation and some were outright facts.

“King Morpheus has always done right by us, Your Majesty,” Agnes states honestly. 

“Us?” You probe.

“Yes, my late husband left us out to dry and I don’t make near enough for our son. King Morpheus is paying for his education and lets me sleep in the palace as long as I work under him. And to keep you safe of course, Your Majesty,” Agnes further explains. 

She globs on a different type of cream into your hair and the air starts to smell like fresh fruit instead of dried blood. The image of Morpheus starts to shift as you imagine him through Agnes’ eyes. What was once dark turns lighter in your mind. 

You suppose he isn’t a terrible husband, just a neglectful one. He lets you do as you please: tearing away at his gardens for your own sanctuary, permitting you into the royal library, and letting you paint uninterrupted in the studio. 

Was everything he confessed tonight true then? That his feelings for you have changed from resentment of forced marriage into love? It is hard to believe, there is no way a person’s feelings could change so fast. 

For all of the good that he’s done, there is also the bad. Neglecting you is the most obvious answer, but he also failed to listen to your pleas for mercy and rejected you from his inner royal court. He has refused to let you serve your kingdom and share the burden of ruling as a monarch. And though you resolved the issue of his former love for Calliope yourself, would it have wounded him to tell you himself? Why? Why?

The never ending torment that is your own thoughts has you sulking deeper into the bathtub until the only thing above the water are your eyes and nose. Agnes dumps water over your head and your breath creates bubbles in the water. 

You wish to stay in the warm waters for the rest of your life, like returning to the safe womb from which you were born. At least there, you wouldn’t have to deal with… well whatever this is. 

“I am sure that His Majesty never meant to harm you,” Agnes starts again, taking your forlorn expression. 

Too many times has she seen a lonely wife on this side of the universe. Though poorer herself, she is blessed to have been married for love and not arrangement. A lonely wife is always the first ingredient for disaster, followed closely by an angry wife. 

“The King is one of few words, but his actions proceed him. He thought he was doing right by you, Your Grace.” She quickly continues. 

You don’t bother with a response. Perhaps he did think he was doing the right thing. You can imagine what it must have looked like to him in the dim light. A weapon in the hands of an unknown soldier, kneeling over you while your face was still panic-stricken. 

It, however, doesn’t ignore the fact that he proceeded to ignore your pleas, too focus on bringing you his version of “justice.”

You don’t see Morpheus for another week, the tension between the two of you has died down to a low simmer instead of the raging boil you left at. In your time, you’ve started to enjoy Calliope’s company more and more. 

Oftentimes, the two of you share conversation within one of the several drawing rooms in the palace. Calliope brings lemons from her home kingdom of Boeotica that are hardly grown in the seaside soils of the Dreaming. And with lemons comes to fruition your new favorite dessert of tiny lemon cakes. 

Calliope often thinks that you seek out her company each day of the week just so you have an excuse to eat the pastries and drink tea, though you would deny it. You do genuinely enjoy her company. Had you never overcome your diversities with each other, you would have never known how kind, witty, and graceful she is. 

She never minds it. Calliope has missed her sisters dearly, and your company ebbs away at the homesick feeling she’s had since coming here as emissary. And between laughs and hushed whispers of shared stories does she come to find a sister in you as well. 

Other times, you find that Calliope loves to take morning strolls through the open grounds within the castle. She loves the way the sun feels against her skin, warming her up in the mornings like the soil beneath her feet. Matthew accompanies the two of you while she listens to your rambles, your mind having far too many topics of conversation given your lack of friends within palace walls. 

“How did you come into Morpheus’ care?” You ask one day on a familiar stroll in the palace gardens. 

Calliope hums as she acknowledges your question. She thinks for a moment amidst the sound of mourning doves and fountains trickling. You wait with bated breath. Your jealousy of Calliope has long dissipated, but a part of you wishes to know how she managed to become so amicable with your husband. 

“Morpheus and I grew up in the same circle, being royalty and all. It is not uncommon to say that we had our fair share of encounters while we were children. Did you know that he was quite the rambunctious one while he was young? He, Hob, and Lucienne were oftentimes found chasing each other through the halls with wooden swords and empty threats.

Morpheus got into a lot of trouble, he often came back to his nanny covered in bruises or dirt. His mother never appreciated it, thinking it was unsightly for a prince to look and act as he did. I first met him when my parents were visiting as guests and I had holed myself up in some library. He comes bargaining in to hide from Hob and Lucienne from some game they’ve made up. 

We became friends through our love of literature and when Hob and Lucienne eventually found him, they nicknamed him the Prince of Stories. He hated it, of course, saying something about how it was not regal enough for him. 

Eventually, he had to step into the throne. As you may know, his brother was in contact with the divine and thus became divine—and had to step down as the next king of the Dreaming. His eldest sister left to travel, though for reasons unknown to anyone outside of the royal family.” Calliopes goes on.

Her voice is light and smooth, perfect for reminiscing and storytelling. You find yourself smiling at this new found information about Morpheus. His more solemn and distinguished attitude is a stark contrast to his childhood. 

“Do you still love him?” You ask hesitantly, finding distraction in the morning bees that collected the last few drops of autumn nectar. 

“Yes,” Calliope replies honestly. “But as friends.” She nudges you with a knowing smile as she sees you deflate slightly. 

“I see.”

“You need not worry. I believe our relationship was due to his wish for simpler times. Everyone had grown up, Lucienne filled in her role quite well as the royal advisor, her studies proven well. Hob married and inherited his father’s fortune and lands. And Morpheus took to the throne, you must imagine how that is for a boy who was never meant to take to it?” Calliope stops just before the colonnades that reentered the palace as she asks you the question. 

“How do you feel, Calliope? Now that he has listened to you and stopped the relationship?” You inquire, a curious frown etched upon your face. 

“As if he’s finally grown to be the man he is meant to be,” she answers with a soft smile. 

With that answer, she leaves you, having other responsibilities to tend to. The fall chill comes down, kissing across your exposed shoulders and caressing through the loose strands of your hair. Your mind is muddled with thoughts as you watch Calliope’s figure recede. 

On the seventh day, Calliope is nowhere to be seen and instead, you find Morpheus standing in the middle of the drawing room. You had just finished a new book that you wished to share with Calliope, but instead, you’re greeted with bouquet after bouquet of different flowers. 

“Oh!” You exclaim, confused. 

You tilt your body outside for a moment to make sure that you stepped into the correct room. Jessemy’s body seems to materialize out of thin air, and her quiet demeanor makes her a lot more difficult to sense. You even look to Matthew just to make sure, but he meets you with a shrug. 

“Good morning,” Morpheus coughs out when you turn your attention back to him. 

Matthew lets out an aggressive sneeze as the sickly sweet smell from the abundance of flowers reaches his nostrils. The armor-clad knight sneezes again and practically shoves you into the room so that he can close the door behind him.

“I’m so sorry, Your Majesty,” he apologizes. Matthew’s muffled sneezes can still be heard on the other side.

A few seconds pass too fast, the atmosphere fills with awkward tension. You could hear the ringing in your ears and wish to crumble and hide within yourself. 

“This is… a lot of flowers,” You state the obvious, scanning over the different colors and shapes. 

“Yes,” Morpheus agrees, perhaps a little too quickly. “Lucienne said you might like a gesture, and I do not know what your favorite flowers are. I find that I do not know about you, at all.”

Morpheus watches closely as you trace the delicate petals of a yet to bloom dahlia with a soft smile. Dahlias are an incredibly romantic flower with the message being “forever thine” and he wonders if you knew that when selecting the flowers. 

“I do like flowers,” you admit absentmindedly. “These are dahlias, an incredibly romantic flower, but not many know that they can be toxic, too. And these,” you practically skip over to another bouquet, “these chrysanthemums mean joy and optimism, and they can even make a soothing tea.”

Your eyes light up as you scan the room, taking in the different species and colors as you start to ramble about each one you like, naming their meanings and purposes. Morpheus listens intently, learning and smiling at the way you flitter around the room like an untamed pixie.

Your smile grows with each new flower you name and you turn to see him smiling back at you. The moment is lost, however, when you realize what he is trying to do. 

“Wait,” you pause, leaving the flowers behind. “You thought that you would be forgiven after everything with just a few flowers?”

“I would not call this a few…” Morpheus laughs slightly and gestures towards the wall of flowers. “I want to get to know you.”

“That would have been a more appropriate conversation you should have shared with your wife on our wedding day,” you grit out. 

The flowers are just a distraction. Morpheus may be a man of a few words, as Agnes has said, and you can see that he is trying in his own weird way. But it will take a lot more than some pretty flowers to gain your favor again. 

“We are gathered here today to honor the recently passed Ser Gault, a noble soldier of the Dreaming whose bravery saved none other than the Queen’s life. As per King Morpheus, Ser Gault will be buried with the highest honor given within the kingdom.” The Reverend Destiny reads off of his old, leathered book. 

You stand amongst the crowd of gathered attendees, the late autumn sun is just about to clip below the horizon. Through your black veil, you garner a small peek at your husband. Morpheus stands next to you, perfectly straight-postured as always and you’re having a hard time trying to read his emotions. Your eyes return to the wooden casket in the ground. 

Six feet under, lies Gault. The very reason you are standing here today, alive and breathing, and yet she wasn’t. It’s been a couple of months since her death, the funeral had taken that long to carefully prepare. 

Perhaps it is the black dress you wore or the cold and dry weather, but with every passing moment Destiny draws on, the harder it is to breathe. You feel as if your living body is going to freeze on the spot. 

No one else spoke, you’re not even sure what the relationships between the attendees and Gault were. You did know that you felt out of place. Funerals should be surrounded by loved ones and you barely knew her past her name. 

Even when everyone else leaves, having already given their prayers and flowers, you stay, feeling as if it was the best way to pay your respects. With each new layer of dirt the grave digger throws on top, you bury the guilt that weighed down your heart. 

It could’ve been you.

It could have been you. 

…

Should it have been you?

Morpheus’ presence brings you out of your thoughts and you find yourself blinking back tears. He’s twirling a singular white tulip between his fingers, contemplating something before he gives the flower to you. No words are exchanged as you hesitantly take the flower, but you understand him.

“Please forgive me,” He asks through the flower. 

You take the flower from his hands, your fingers grazing his for a moment. The warmth is ever fleeting, and it’s missed as soon as you pull away. The tulip is light and delicate in your fingers, a simple push of your nail could snap the stem in half. 

“I am still angry at you, Morpheus, and you are still not forgiven…. but this is a good start. You have always acted before you thought, and I’m not so sure anymore if it is a blessing or a curse,” You whisper to him. 

The funeral staff have left, and the mound of dirt now rests, ready to be compacted down through time. You place the white tulip on the mound and walk away, giving Gault her first and last gift from you. The autumn chill creeps up quicker now that the sun has set and you briskly make your way back to the comforts of your suite. 

Morpheus lets out a deep sigh, watching your receding figure merge with Matthew’s the further you walk away from him. His shoulder relaxes as he repeats your words on his lips. 

“A good start…” 

He returns with haste to the royal library and begins digging around the archives. He searches in candlelight desperately for a specific book he hasn’t read in a long, long, time. 

“Looking for something in particular, my lord?” Lucienne’s voice calls out to him. 

Morpheus looks down briefly from the ladder he clung to, the wrong book in his hands. He sighs as he slides the book back into its place, pushing on the old spine. The higher he went on the prongs, the stronger the books began to smell like his oldest brother. 

“Language of flowers,” He admits defeatedly to his most trusted advisor. 

“What ever do you need that for?” Lucienne asks, shocked to say the least. 

“It seems to be the only way I can communicate with my wife.”

Lucienne raises a quizzical brow, probing him for further information without saying another word. Morpheus climbs back down the wooden ladder, candelabra in hand as he makes his way to her. 

“Every time I try to explain myself, I simply make matters worse. Y/N has a kind love for flowers and seems to understand what I said during the funeral,” Morpheus explains. 

Lucienne’s mouth opens in a silent “ah.” She knows exactly what he means, though she keeps the thoughts to herself. Looking past the already difficult past the two of you shared, Morpheus was hard to understand at his core. 

He always came to conclusions within his own mind, only speaking the final verdict without letting anyone else in on his thoughts. At least with flowers, he can communicate in a way that you would understand. 

Without another word, Lucienne disappears into the darkness of the library, knowing her way around the aisles as if it were the grooves in her own pointed ears. She comes back not a few moments later with the correct book in her arms, handing it over to her King. 

Though, in the darkness of the night and the shadows cast by candlelight, Morpheus is basked in a type of vulnerability she hasn’t seen since they were children. 

“For the Prince of Stories,” she jokes, a crooked smile dashing across her lips as she recalls the old joke. 

Morpheus casts her a playful glare, thinking it had been too long for anyone to remember that nickname. But, he thanks her nonetheless and sits by a large window to catch up on some reading. 

The moon rises higher in the sky, casting a blue hue over the worn and inked pages. His fingers trace across the drawings of different flowers and herbs alike as he pages through the book.

Jessamy remains by his side still as he makes his way to the palace gardens, muttering to himself as he tries to find the specific flowers he finds agreeable. By the time the moon reaches Her peak, Morpheus smells like fresh dirt and he interlaces the stems together into something more presentable, tying off the bouquet in some twine he found lying in a greenhouse. 

He presents the finished bouquet to the only person around, who happens to be Jessamy. Ever silent, Jessamy only shrugs, her armored shoulder pads falling as soon as they rise. 

Not exactly the greatest boost of confidence, but it was better than Jessamy ripping it to shreds, he supposed. He leaves the bouquet in the servant’s quarters with a specific note that Agnes is to send the flowers to you.

You wake up to a very excited Agnes shoving flowers ino your face. Sleep still clings to your eyelashes like glue and your frown only deepens when someone opens the heavy curtains of the room. 

“What is going on,” you say sitting up, eyes blinking open. 

Agnes shoves the bouquet of flowers into your hands, which you poorly grab at. 

“It’s from King Morpheus,” Agnes explains as she begins to prepare you for your day. 

A brush runs through your hair as you push your sleep aside. You stare at the flowers, a bouquet made of blue salvias, hawthorns, myrtles, hyacinths, and marguerite daisies. 

“The more I look at it… the bouquet is kinda ugly,” Agnes mutters from behind you, her brush stopping mid-stroke. 

You don’t respond to Agnes but silently agree. Morpheus didn’t seem like the type of person to send something half-done and you rack your brain as you start to name off the meanings behind each flower he sent you. 

Blue salvias… meaning “I think of you,” hawthorns which represents the term “I am hoping,” while myrtles means “love in a marriage.” Your cheeks flush as you decipher the hidden message in the flowers. The remaining two flowers, hyacinths and marguerite daisies, decipher “to play” and “I await you.” 

“I’m thinking of you. I am hoping for love in our marriage. Come play with me, I await you.” The message reads. 

Morpheus waits for you? Figuratively or literally? If it was literally, where in the vast palace grounds would he wait for you? You ponder over the message across breakfast with Calliope, her voice muffled as you silently chew on your fruit, debating if you should even accept the invitation. 

At least he isn’t forcing your hand, it will be your decision whether or not you should meet with him. At first, you considered not going at all, but that darn bracelet from the Sister Fates kept twisting and tightening around your wrist until you couldn’t take the subtle pain anymore. 

You spend the rest of your afternoon hunting him down. If he couldn’t specify where he would like to meet, then you would just have to revisit all of the locations in which you have interacted with him. That was the best you could come up with at the time. 

The drawing room was the closest to you at the time, the flowers Morpheus had gotten you were disposed of and the room returned to its original cleanliness. It still smelled of flowers, but the scent was less intruding this time around. Still, your husband was nowhere to be found. 

You head to the ballroom next. With the lack of whimsical effects from the eclipse, the ballroom was just like any other space within the castle. Though the open ceiling was still a beautiful touch, casting everything in natural sunlight. You spot Lucienne near the unmoving decorative thrones at the very front and you make your way to her. 

“Lucienne,” you call out to her, quickening your step to catch up to her. 

“My lady,” she greets, clasping her hands over the heavy book she was holding. 

“Have you seen Morpheus?” You ask outright. 

“No, Your Majesty. King Morpheus has cleared his entire schedule today, therefore I haven’t a clue to his whereabouts.”

“Hm, interesting,” you think aloud. Lucienne was your first and only hope of easily finding him. 

“Forgive me for not being of much help,” the royal advisor apologizes, pushing her round glasses back into place. 

“Do not fret. Thank you, Lucienne.” You acknowledge this before letting her continue with her daily responsibilities. 

Next, you make your way to the royal library, where you find Mervyn dusting the table lights with a grumble. The brighter blue of his new denim overalls makes him stick out like a sore thumb amongst the brown books. The pumpkin-head man doesn’t bother to answer your question, shooing you away with a dirty glove as if your very presence was enough to annoy him. 

You leave, tail tucked between your legs and a little offended as you make it to Hob’s studio. Opening the door greeted you with past emotions you’re not sure if you’ve processed. You haven’t been back in the studio since that eventful evening and no one has been in since, either. 

Dry paint was still splattered across the walls and floors, broken canvases were strewn across the room. Dust sprites have made themselves a small home, covering every inch of the place in a fine layer of dust. Upon seeing your face, they get shy and fly out past your head, leaving you sneezing and still unable to find your husband. 

“Wait out here, Matthew,” you instruct as you slowly make your way into the studio. 

You run a finger across a shelf, collecting the dust on your finger and rolling the lint into a small tube. The brushes have dried, paint caked onto them as if frozen in time with the promise of something new. But you know, you know the brushes are destroyed—that no matter how much water and oil you soak them in can you return them to the state they were before. 

Evening came quicker now that it was autumn, beginning to cast the studio in a warm yellow light and illuminating the dust. You let out another sigh, relaxing your posture in the solitude of the broken room. To think that it was autumn already… 

The window unlocks with a click and you open the glass panes to let the dust fly out. You enjoy the chill that ran down your shoulders as you lean out the window to escape the stuffiness of the room. The blissful solace was interrupted by a rustling below you. 

In the colorful flowers of the gardens below you, you see Morpheus and Jessamy, their black colors displaced amongst the lively backdrop. Morpheus paces back and forth along the cobblestone path, looking towards the entrance below you before returning to his pacing. 

Had he been there this whole time? You step away from the window, wishing to keep yourself hidden as you too begin to pace back and forth. This whole day was spent looking for him but now that you found him, you’re not sure if you want to see him. 

Yes, you should see him, give him a piece of your mind. 

No, you shouldn’t see him, let him suffer in his silence. 

Yes, you should go to him, you can see his efforts in trying to reprimand his mistakes!

No, did you forget he refuses to let you do anything in the castle?

He lets you do a lot, all things considered. 

“Oh, be quiet,” You scold yourself as your mind races. 

Your feet move you out of the studio and out of the royal library all the while your mind still plays tug of war between yes’s and no’s. Soon you’re flying down the winding stairs that lead down to the gardens, your heart pounding and your breath shaky. 

No, what if he hurts you again? And your hand pauses on the door handle. 

But what if… Oh, gods above! Shut up!

You push the door open, the sun blinding and the air fresh against your flushed face. It’s too late to turn back now. Morpheus’ head snaps up at the sound of the door banging open, standing to his feet even though he had just sat back down. He stares, wide-eyed and unblinking at you. As if afraid that if he does, it would have all been a figment of his imagination and you were nothing but an illusion of his wishes. 

A beat of silence passes between you, even leaves don’t dare fall as if trying to avoid the tense atmosphere. It’s you who breaks it first for if it continued any longer, you would run back up those stairs again. 

“Hello, Morpheus,” you greet and raise your hand in a wave and inwardly cringe at how horrible this is and you should just turn around and hide in your room. 

“Y/N,” Morpheus breathes out your name like a song. 

“How long have you been waiting?” You ask, noting the amount of pacing he had been doing. 

“Since dawn,” He responds honestly, his cheeks and nose flushed from the cold air. 

“Forgive me for keeping you, the flowers… they did not specify where,” you apologize quickly. He nods in understanding, there isn’t exactly a flower that means “meet me at the garden under the marble statue of the naked woman fountain.”

“No, I would’ve waited the night if necessary,” Morpheus assures and another beat of silence follows at his confession. “Would you like to promenade with me?”

You nod once, enough for Morpheus to close the gap between you and offer his arm. You hesitate for a moment but swallow it down as you wrap your fingers around his limb.

“Just this once,” you agree. The two of you begin to stroll through the expansive gardens, enjoying the weather and last of the sun’s rays. 

“I would like to get to know you, if it pleases my wife,” he says suddenly amongst the sound of trickling water and birds chirping. 

“What do you wish to know?” You respond. Morpheus pauses for a moment, not particularly expecting to have come this far in conversation—if he was going to be honest with himself. 

“What is your most favorable season?” He asks. 

“Spring,” you answer easily. “Though I keep that information close to my chest.” 

Morpheus smiles at your little jab. Spring would explain your love of flowers, when they are most beautiful. 

“Why do you enjoy dancing?” He inquires next. 

“It is a physical form of music and music is beautiful but intangible,” you explain as best as you could, but the feeling is hard to put to words. “I’ve always danced when I’m happy and therefore have become happy when I dance.”

“Do you miss your family?” 

“Not as much as I miss my harpsichord,” you joke, having gotten used to the freedom away from the scrutinizing gaze of your father and the constant lessons from your mother. “Tell me about your family.”

“What is there to learn? All events have been written on paper and bound in leather.” He lets out a deep chuckle at his own joke before pretending to clear his throat when you don’t laugh with him. 

“Tell me about your sister, Teleute. Why is she not here?” You ask instead.

The night that Rodrick Burgess burst into the ballroom is still fresh in your mind. Something made him believe that Morpheus’ sister could bring back his dead son and Calliope mentioned something happened to Teleute but it is a heavily guarded secret. 

“A royal family secret,” Morpheus confirms your suspicions. “Teleute almost died giving birth to her first child. Since that tragedy, she has been an oracle and foreseer of death itself, though we know not the reason why. Our parents sent her away in fear of their own deaths coming sooner.”

So, it was simply misinformation that Rodrick Burgess was fed. She could only predict when and how someone died, not bring them back from the dead. You suppose any loving parent would want to bring their child back, and even go to extreme lengths to achieve it. 

“A cruel thing for parents to do to their daughter.” You frown as you realize that the former king and queen had banned her from her own home. 

“Yes, but the last I’ve known of her, she is happier out there and not in here.” 

“What of the rest of your siblings?”

“I have six in total.” Morpheus continues to indulge your curiosity. “You know of Reverend Destiny, I have a wild card of a brother who left the royal family and his titles for no known reasons, but I don’t blame him. There are the twins, who disagreed with my ascension to the throne and have declared themselves enemies of the Dreaming, but that is a discussion for another day.”

“That is only five siblings, what of the sixth?” You question as you mentally tallied up the number.

“My youngest sister passed in her sleep whilst fighting a fever dawning on her third birthday,” Morpheus reveals quietly, briefly reliving the past. 

“My condolences, my lord.” You apologize quickly after for probing too far. 

“Thank you, but it has been many years and the ache is healed.” 

The two of you fall into another silence, following the cobblestone path beneath us. Mervyn had been doing a wonderful job in keeping the path clean, not a single blade was out of place and no insufferable weeds popped up. 

Arm in hand, you and Morpheus descend further into the gardens where the bushes are overgrown and the flowers grow wildly over forgotten statues. A gazebo stood strong despite the strong cracks in its foundation and columns. A lone stone table with a game of black and white sits beneath its roof. 

“Do you know how to play?” He asks as you two stop before the table. 

“Chess?” You confirm his question, to which he nods. “Yes, I would dare say I am quite proficient.”

“I shall take that as a challenge, for I have never lost a game.” Morpheus grins as walks up the small steps of the marble gazebo. 

“Consider your challenge accepted,” You say with a prideful glint, raising your chin high. “Which side do you prefer?”

“Ladies first, I insist.” Morpheus offers the side to the white side with his hand before taking a seat opposite of you. 

The stone seat is cool beneath your legs, a calming temperature as the air crackles with both of your egos on the line. You watch as Morpheus realigns his pieces so they all face the same way. You wonder whether or not he was giving you the upper hand by giving you the side which will move first, but the more you think about it, the more you realize it is so he could see how you think.

White always moves first, it usually attacks and black defends—but chess is not just about capturing and winning, it is a game of logic and strategy. Both opponents show their skills in how they maneuver their pieces while manipulating their opponents. Your eyes meet his once again and all playful banter the two of you shared is gone. 

The man in front of you now is no longer your husband. No, this is King Morpheus: calculating, patient, and intelligent. 

As per the rules of the game, you move first and Morpheus watches intently. He sets his next piece out and the two of you play back and forth as the game slowly progresses. You watch Morpheus hover his fingers over his bishop in thought, his mind whirling with different scenarios. 

“Do you play chess often?” Your voice cuts through his thoughts like a sword freshly sharpened off the whetstone. 

“When I have the time,” He answers soon after. 

“I see,” you hum in response and the silence continues. 

“Are you sure you want to do that?” Your voice cuts through the quiet of the game once again. 

“Yes…” Morpheus draws out and you see his jaw tick in annoyance. Your soft smile and voice is starting to distract him and any plan he tries to come up with. He lets go of the knight, forgetting if that was really what he wanted to do or not. 

“Very well,” you feign a sigh, a hint of mischief hidden in the message. 

The quietness continues as the only sounds that accompany the game are the sounds of your laughter as you capture any of Morpheus pieces and the rising crickets. 

Soon enough, the pieces are scattered across the black and white board as you enter the end game. Morpheus has a great deal of your pieces captured and you the same on your side. The game slows as both of you try to figure out the best course of action and reaction from each other. 

You try your luck at distracting him again, though this time you ask a question that has been left unanswered for months. 

“Have you ever thought back to my question from that night?” You ask even though it was your turn. 

“Which one?” 

“Why are you so angry, Morpheus?” You ask again, this time expecting an answer. 

“Do you really think me so?” Morpheus retorts as the game turns over to him. 

“Angry? No, not anymore. I think you are lonely,” you conclude as you watch his piece move across the chessboard.

The sun is beginning to set, much like the end of the game. Its final rays are casting everything in a deep orange and the night critters begin to warm their voices to sing. 

“I am not lonely,” Morpheus scoffs at you. “I am constantly surrounded by people and even childhood friends.”

“And yet, you still lie.” You frown at his evasive answer. “I, too, am surrounded by friends and servants but at least I knew I was lonely.” 

“It is my fault you had to feel such a way,” he apologizes again.

You shrug him off, the sound of his apologies now familiar in your ears and you no longer wish to hear them. You wish to hear the truth. 

“For me, people held me at a distance because by law I am their queen and they cannot look past the title. Through time, I no longer blamed them for doing so. For you, however, why do you distance yourself from those around you emotionally?” You ask, wanting to dig deeper into his thoughts. 

Morpheus seemed stunned at your new question, one that penetrated his very soul and held it out for him to see and reflect upon. When he thinks about how he has treated those around him, the answer comes out slowly but truthfully. 

“I have built myself onto a pedestal of regality and control that no one can reach. But I realized that it was not constructed of marble but that of mud and sand from which if a single grain falls, I shall lose everything. I cannot be weak, I cannot let my subjects suffer as such.” Morpheus finally confesses.

He’s not sure who needed to hear it more, you or himself. Morpheus thinks himself as the only one with responsibility. And while it is true his are more grand and important than most, he believes it to be his and his alone. To push them onto others is a burden. Should he seek others for help, he cannot control the outcome no matter how satisfied or failed it may be.

“Only a weak king would deny their weakness and faults. You are good, Morpheus. Fall if you so shall decide to, and you will find that I will be there to catch you. You are not alone anymore.” You smile at him, one he wishes to see for the rest of his life.

Your smile only widens as you move your queen and it’s soon realized to both of you that you had finally cornered his king.

Checkmate.

His king has nowhere else to run and your standing, victorious queen blocks his path. Morpheus frowns as he tries to find a way to continue playing, but no matter what he plans, nothing comes to fruition. 

“I surrender,” He sighs as he goes to knock his piece over. He had fully fallen to your distractions and whims. 

The ceramic piece topples over and bounces against the marble game board, rolling around slowly as it accepts its defeat. You glance from your seat across from him and notice the tick of his jaw as he loses his first game of chess. 

“Perhaps ‘I surrender’ is not the correct course of action here,” You say after a deep breath.

You reach for the small black chess piece and examine it closely between pinched fingers. The detailing is well done, and the craftsmanship comes from the hands of an expert. You place the ebony piece next to your queen of ivory, the two pieces standing together amidst a gameboard of fallen pawns, knights, and bishops. 

“Marriage is a partnership. I do not want you to surrender to me and in return neither will I to you. I simply ask for us to be equals.” You stare at Morpheus with a hopeful look.

Morpheus glaces between you and the chess pieces and finally gives you a small smile. You are too good for him and he promises himself that he will spend the rest of his life making sure he is the husband you deserve. 

“As you wish, my queen.” 

Dusk settles and takes your combined sorrows with it. Tomorrow a new dawn will rise with the promise of hope. 

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God, finally they made up. Only took them fucking what? 35k words? Medium slow burn fr

♡ Yours, Layla

Tags: @dnarez @arunawayheart @acdassenza @ella33 @karma-is-a-god @bluespecs14 @boo8008 @dragon-kazansky @i-voluntears @dennixlovezelda @commanderfreethatdust @herfantasyworldd

[q-gorgeous]

Wing-Bully

fanfiction

ao3

word count: 5267

No one knows au except dash baxter @xscarletsakurax

this is a rework of something that was gonna go write some other writing i did but then i split them into two different fics because the halves didnt vibe with each other kjhgvcf

hidey hey

“Dash, you’re here so we can work on our project for Lancer’s class. We’re not supposed to be down here.” 

“Come on, ghosts aren’t even real. How dangerous can it be down here?”

Danny rolled his eyes. “Dangerous enough that we should really be wearing jumpsuits to protect us from ecto-contamination.”

He walked over to the closet that was down there and pulled out his jumpsuit while Dash laughed at him. 

“Matching outfits with your parents? Lame.”

“Don’t complain to me if you get ectoplasm poisoning then.” 

Danny pulled on his jumpsuit and groaned at the sticker on his chest. He pulled it off and tossed it away. 

“What’s this?” Dash pointed at the deep hole in the wall. Danny walked over to him.

“That’s my parent’s ghost portal. It didn’t end up working though.” 

Dash pushed him towards the portal. “Why don’t you go check it out?”

Danny frowned at him and tried to catch his footing. “No. I don’t know what’s wrong with it. I can’t-” 

“Haha, go in.”

“Dash, stopping pushing me-”

Danny tripped backwards over the threshold of the portal. He tried to catch himself on something on the wall but all he ended up doing was pressing a button that for some godforsaken reason was on the inside of the portal. It hummed around him and after a few moments everything went green. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Glad to see you’re not dead, nerd.” 

Danny looked up to see Dash. It was too early in the morning to deal with him after yesterday. 

“You already knew I wasn’t dead.” 

“A man can dream.” Danny rolled his eyes at Dash’s comment.

“I remember someone crying a lot of tears yesterday when they thought I was dead.” 

A blush rose on Dash’s cheeks. “My adrenaline was running like crazy! It’s not my fault your screams triggered some kind of primal response in my brain!”

“Crying is a primal response now?”

Dash rolled his eyes back at him and crossed his arms. “Have you figured out your whole ghost thing yet?”

“It’s literally been one day.” Danny stared at him. “How could I have figured anything out yet?”

Dash leaned in close to Danny and he glanced at Dash’s lips for a moment before his gaze darted back to Dash’s. “Maybe your parents have some sort of cure. Or maybe it was a one time thing. I don’t know.” 

“Why do you care so much? It’s literally your fault this is happening.”

Dash raised a hand and looked like he was reaching to place it on Danny’s shoulder. “I just-”

Dash was interrupted by someone clearing their throat behind them. They turned around and were met with Sam and Tucker. She was glaring at Dash with her arms crossed. 

“What are you friends with him now?” Sam asked, angrily gesturing at Dash.

“Woah, so what if he wants to be friends with me?” He asked, stepping towards her.

She barked out a laugh. “Come on! You’ve been bullying him the entire time I’ve known both of you. Why would he want to be friends with you? You must be blackmailing him or something.”

“Sam, he’s not blackmailing me.”

“How can we trust that? You could be lying because he’s blackmailing you.” Tucker frowned at him and reached out a hand, placing it on Danny’s shoulder. “I don't want what happened in elementary school to happen again.”

Danny shrugged it off. “That’s not what’s going on. Why can’t you just trust me on this?”

“Because this isn’t smart.” Sam said. “Why do you guys need to be friends?”

Danny threw his hands into the air. “Why are you getting so defensive about this? You’ve literally only seen us have this one conversation and you’re already mad at me. For all you know we could have been assigned a project together or he’s asking about his tutoring sessions with Jazz. Maybe he had to reschedule and wanted me to tell Jazz.”

Tucker shuffled where he stood but Sam still stared at him with crossed arms. 

“Yeah but are you going to tell us the real reason?”

“Does it matter, Sam?” 

Out of the corner of his eye Dash saw Danny start slowly sinking. He panickingly grabbed Danny’s arm to prevent him from sinking any further into the ground. Danny tried to keep his expression neutral but Dash could tell he was shaken. 

“Oh. Is that what’s happening?” Sam looked between the two of them. 

“Is what happening?” Danny asked, frowning at her. 

“What kind of enemies to lovers bullshit is this?” Dash’s eyes widened at her outburst. What was she talking about? What did she think was happening?

His gaze landed on where his hand was still wrapped around Danny’s upper arm and he pulled it back like he’d been burned. Sam scoffed. 

“Sam-” Tucker started but she interrupted him.

“Do you even realize how toxic that kind of relationship can be? He’s just going to hurt you.”

Danny recoiled at her words. “What are you even talking about?”

“The fact that you two seem to be getting real cozy with each other? Are you dating or something?” 

Dash stepped in front of Danny. “How shallow do you have to assume the only reason I’d be talking to him now is if we’re dating? For your information, we used to be friends as kids.” Dash frowned at her and watched as she backed up. “Just because you’re self conscious about your major crush on Fenton doesn’t mean you have to take it out on us because we’re having a simple conversation.”

A blush appeared on Sam’s cheeks before she angrily stormed away. 

“Sorry.” Tucker said as he looked between them again before he followed after her.

Danny watched them as they walked into the school. He was quiet for a few moments before he turned his gaze back to Dash.

“Sam has a crush on me?”

Dash groaned. “That is what you’re focused on?” He started walking towards the school.

Danny followed next to him. “But I didn’t know that! How did you know that?”

“You’re just about the only person who didn’t know, Fenton.”

Dash pushed through the front doors of the school. Danny had a dazed look on his face. 

“Is that why everyone calls me clueless?” He whispered. 

“Clueless strikes again.”

Danny frowned up at him. “Oh what, you’re so observant, are you?”

Dash pushed open the front door of the school. It swung closed behind them. “More than you. I’m not even friends with Manson and I could see the blackened heart eyes she was giving you.” 

Danny shuffled his backpack on his shoulders as they walked down the hall. “I’ve just never seen her that way. I don’t like her like that.”

Dash’s brows shot up on his forehead. “You don’t?”

Danny shook his head. He veered off to the right and Dash followed him to his locker. “She's just a friend to me.” 

Dash leaned against the lockers while Danny tried to open his but his hand just ended up passing through the dial lock. He groaned.

“Maybe you should tell her that, then. Get it over with so she doesn’t try to kill anyone that even thinks to get close to you.”

Danny rolled his eyes. He finally got his locker open. “She wouldn’t kill anyone for getting close to me.”

“I don’t know.” Dash drawled. “She looked like she was gonna claw my eyes out back there. Like a creepy bat girl.”

Danny slammed his locker shut and turned to look at Dash. “You know, if we’re going to be doing whatever this is, I would appreciate you not making comments about my friends like that.” 

“But she can talk to me like that?”

Danny frowned. “No. I literally told her there was no reason for her to be talking to you like that for having a simple conversation with me.”

“But she’s allowed to not like me?”

“That’s your own fault.” Danny rolled his eyes. “She has every right not to like you.”

Dash huffed. He was about to say something but then Danny started sinking into the floor again. Danny panickingly grabbed Dash’s forearm to prevent himself from sinking any further in. Dash pulled him up and when he set him back down, his feet were solid again. Dash looked around them and miraculously no one else in the hall saw what happened. 

“I’m already over this.” Danny mumbled as he let go of Dash. 

“Do you think you’ll get control over it eventually?” Dash asked him. 

“Hopefully. Otherwise I’ll probably have no choice but to ask my parents for help. I really don’t want to do that though.” 

“Maybe we could do some training? Or practice? You won’t get used to your powers if you just try to ignore them. If you try to do it, then maybe you’ll understand how to not do it.”

Danny nodded. “That makes sense. I guess that’s what we’ll have to do.” 

They came to a split in the hallway. Danny looked up at him.

“Well, I’m going this way.” Danny hooked a thumb over his shoulder as he turned to face Dash.”

Dash nodded. “See you later. Hopefully you don’t drop anything today.”

“Hopefully. We’ll see.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Thirty four beakers. 

Danny was finally getting ahold of his powers and all it took was thirty four dropped beakers and a lifetime ban from handling anything fragile while he was at school. 

Aside from the frequent ghost sighting, things were starting to look up.

“Manson!” 

If only Dash could learn to keep his thoughts to himself when it came to his friends. 

“What is this garbage?” 

He stomped up to where the three of them were sitting at their table in the cafeteria. Sam frowned at him. 

“It’s not garbage! It’s recyclable organic matter.”

“It’s garbage.” Danny and Tucker said together. 

Danny gasped out a breath of cold air. He looked around him. He saw a lunch lady ghost behind the food counter. 

Dash followed his gaze to where the ghost was. He saw it just as she walked behind the wall. 

Dash looked back at Sam and held up his plate of mud, pushing himself between Danny and his friends. “When I asked for a mud pie, I thought I was gonna get a mud pie. Not a literal mud pie!” 

“Actually, it’s topsoil.” 

“Whatever. Are you going to actually eat this garbage?”

Danny slipped away while Dash argued with his friends. Maybe Dash arguing with his friends could actually be useful for something for once. 

He found somewhere to hide and transformed. He flew invisibly back to the cafeteria to the room the lunch ladies worked in. She was floating there looking around and the food and the lunch trays. She kind of looked like Tucker’s grandma. 

She caught sight of him. Danny was ready to bolt as she floated up to him, but she wasn’t making any moves to attack him.

“Hello.” She said sweetly. “Can you help me? Today’s lunch should be meatloaf, but there’s not any here. Did someone change the menu?”

“Oh. Uh, yeah. They’re trying something new this week.” 

Danny jumped back as her hair suddenly flamed up with her anger.

“The menu has been the same for fifty years!” She shouted at him. 

“Wait-”

She levitated some plates and shot them at him. Danny dodged and caught them, avoiding getting hit. What was up with this lady? Why was the menu so important? 

“The menu is sacred! Lunch is sacred!” She spoke in her sickly sweet voice again. “Would you like some cake?”

Danny looked at her, confused. “If you’re offering-”

“No one gets cake until the menu is changed back!” 

She held her arms up and meat started flying towards her from every direction. It engulfed her and turned her into a meat monster.

“Meat is the most important food group! Without meat, you’ll remain puny and muscle-less!” 

“I’m not arguing with you there.” Danny mumbled. He geared up for a kick but she grabbed his ankle and sent him flying across the room. 

“I will restore the sanctity of the lunch menu! As soon as I find out who changed it!”

She disappeared in a tornado of meat.

The ghost was gone for now. Danny flew through the wall of the school and collapsed onto the ground. He transformed back and tried to push himself up. He was so tired. He’d never used his powers like that before. He groaned. 

“Hey.”

Danny opened his eyes and looked up. Dash was standing there with his hand outstretched to Danny. He looked at it for a second before he reached up and grabbed it, pulling himself up with Dash’s help. 

“Thanks. That ghost wiped me out.”

“No problem. I wanted to make sure that ghost didn’t kill you. I was trying to find you when I saw you fly through the wall and hit the ground out here.”

Danny nodded. “Yeah that wasn’t fun.” He looked down and saw that he was still holding onto Dash’s hand. He pulled it away and coughed. He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “I should go check on Sam and Tucker though. I want to make sure they’re okay.”

“The ghost attack was pretty contained.” Dash said. “I’m sure they’re fine.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Ah.” Dash said. “That’s fair. Sorry about dragging out that argument with her.”

Danny shrugged and started walking away. “It distracted them long enough to let me slip away for a bit so. No harm done. At least not to me.”

“Good luck. Hopefully she doesn’t chew your head off.” 

Danny pulled the door Dash had walked out open and stepped back inside the school, shaking the hand that had been holding Dash’s. He made his way through the hallways to find Sam and Tucker. 

Sam slammed open the cafeteria doors as Danny stumbled down the hallway. 

“I still can’t believe you’re talking to that meathead.” She shot at him with no preamble. “He literally antagonizes all of us. And then you ditch us to go meet up with him? I saw you two outside.”

“Sam-” 

“What can you say to defend him?” She turned to look at him. “He beats you up all the time.”

“Not anymore.” Danny said.

“What?” Sam stopped walking.

“He doesn’t beat me up anymore.”

She didn’t say anything to that for a few moments. She shook her head. “I still don’t trust him. I don’t get how you could forgive him so easily.”

“I-” He stopped. Had he forgiven Dash?

Sam shook his head. “Let’s just get to class.”

Danny looked around them. “Where’s Tucker?”

She rolled her eyes. “He said he smelt meat so he went to track it down through the hallways. I don’t know if he’s found it yet.” 

Danny scrunched up his nose. He knew exactly what meat Tucker was smelling. “He’s just gonna go eat whatever random mystery meat he finds?”

“Apparently.”

Danny didn’t respond after her last stilted reply. He followed behind her to their next class. When they walked in she went straight to her seat but he looked up and made eye contact with Dash. Dash gave him a questioning look and Danny just shrugged at him before sitting back down.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dash walked into the Nasty Burger. Football had just ended and he was hungry. 

As he was walking to the counter he saw Danny sitting at a table with his friends. Dash smirked and walked over to them.

“Hey, nerds.” He placed a hand on the table and leaned his weight into it. 

Sam rolled her eyes. “What do you want?” 

“I just came to say hi to my favorite nerds. Is there a problem with that?” 

“If we’re your favorite does that mean you’ll stop making fun of us?” Tucker asked thoughtfully. “Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad, Sam.”

“He’s not going to stop making fun of us, Tucker. The two of them are over there ‘trying to be friends.’” She said with air quotes. “And he still picks on us all the time.” 

“I’ve tried talking to him about it, Sam, but he has a hard time with it.” 

She shot Danny a look. “So why be friends with him? Why give him a chance? What do you see in him?”

“Just because he doesn’t like you-”

Sam scoffed. “Maybe you’re too insecure about your own crush on Danny.” 

Danny whipped his head to look at her. 

“What?” Dash laughed it off. “What are you talking about, Manson?” 

“Yeah, Sam, what are you talking about?” Danny stared at her. 

“Isn’t that what’s been happening this whole time?” She shot back at them. “He’s got some kind of weird feelings for you, he’s trying to get into your pants. Get on your good side. The pulling the girl’s pigtails because you like her bullshit? Don’t you see how weird his sudden change in actions towards you is?” 

“What about your sudden change in actions?” Danny shot at her. “Do you realize how much of an asshole you’ve been lately?”

“Well, maybe if you weren’t friends with-”

Danny threw his hands up in the air. “God forbid if I make new friends! Or try to get along with someone instead of fighting! Or even make decisions for myself.” 

“Danny-”

He cut her off and stood up. “No I’m-” He gasped and Dash saw his ghost sense fog out of his mouth. He frowned. “I’m going home. I need some time alone.” He turned and started walking towards the door. 

“Danny!” Dash followed behind Danny out of the Nasty Burger. 

The ghost was flying above the parking lot shooting ecto-blasts every which way. 

The door slammed behind Dash and Danny turned his head to look at him. 

“I need some time to think. Please just go back inside.” 

He called on his transformation rings. Once they passed across his body he jumped up and flew into the air towards the ghost. 

He watched Danny fight the ghost. He could tell he was angry. He was sloppy today. 

Danny missed a dodge and got hit through the air by the ghost. He ended up turned facing the opposite direction so he didn’t see it start to charge at him. 

Dash’s heart raced as he watched the ghost fly up to Danny. His heart stirred with feelings he wanted to push down. He didn’t need to put himself in danger for Danny. He didn’t feel that way. Danny didn’t feel that way about him.

But as the ghost got closer, Dash couldn’t help as the anxiety skyrocketed. His resolve broke and he picked up a big piece of asphalt off the ground and chucked it at the ghost. It turned to look at him. 

Dash froze when the ghost’s eyes landed on him. What was he doing? Was Danny really that important to him now?

The ghost’s mouth filled up with ectoplasm and shot it towards.

He wouldn’t be able to move in-

Danny knocked Dash out of the way of the ecto-blast just in time. His arms wrapped around Dash’s chest and he flew back. The blast hit the ground where he’d been standing just a moment before. 

Dash wrapped his arms around Danny as they slammed into the ground. He groaned as his back slid across the pavement and Danny looked down at him. He started feeling the back of Dash’s head, running his fingers through his hair. 

Dash opened his eyes and looked up at Danny. He looked panicked. Like something was wrong, but he literally just prevented anything from being wrong.

“Dash, are you okay?”

He nodded. “Back hurts. Head’s fine.”

Danny leaned down and lay his head on Dash’s chest. Dash’s hands slid down Danny’s back and rested at his side and he closed his eyes again. He really didn’t like this whole ghost hunting thing. 

The ghost roared behind them and Dash felt Danny’s head shoot back up. 

“Shit! How did I forget about the ghost?”

Dash waved his hand above him. “Go. I’m fine. I’m just gonna get my bearings on the ground here.” 

Dash listened as Danny finished fighting the ghost. It ended quickly and he could hear Danny’s footsteps as he walked to stand over Dash. Dash opened his eyes and his heart jumped at the way the sun shone on Danny’s white hair. 

Danny held his hand out to Dash and he slowly reached up and grabbed it. Danny pulled him to his feet and looked at their hands. He let go a moment later. 

“I think we need a new rule. No interfering with ghost attacks.”

“What?” Dash frowned at him. “That thing was about to gobble you.” 

Danny crossed his arms. “Yeah, but if I didn’t get to you on time you could've gotten very badly hurt. I thought I knocked your head on the ground when I knocked you out of the way.” 

Dash shrugged. “But you didn’t.” 

“We can’t rely on that.” Danny looked away from him. “Just promise you won’t interfere like that again?”

Dash wasn’t sure if that was something he could actually do. But one look at the expression on Danny’s face told Dash he should at least try. 

“Yeah. I promise.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Danny was nodding off in the middle of class. They were given time to work on their homework today but all Danny wanted to do was sleep. Having to fight all these ghosts all the time was making his life way too stressful. He wasn’t to sleep or get his homework done or even get to class on time. It was starting to get to him. 

He yawned. While his eyes were shut he heard someone sit down next to him. He opened his eyes and saw Dash in the next seat over. 

“You look tired.”

“Thanks, captain obvious. I didn’t realize.” 

Dash shrugged. He slouched back in his seat. “Your friends are whispering about you back there.” 

Danny turned and looked over his shoulder at where Sam and Tucker sat at the table in the back of the classroom. When they saw him looking Sam turned back around. Tucker just waved at him awkwardly. 

Danny waved back at him. “I wish they’d just sit over here with me.” 

Dash waved them off. “Who needs ‘em if they’re going to be treating you like that.” 

Sam snorted behind them. Dash turned to look at her. “You got something to say Manson?”

“As if we could treat him any worse than anything you’ve ever done to him.” 

Dash shrugged as he faced back towards the front of the classroom. “Hey, at least my character arc is positive. I’ve made amends.” 

“You’ve hardly even done anything. What kind of character arc have you actually had?”

“I-” Dash started but then he stopped. His brows dropped down and he looked at Danny. 

It hit Danny then that the only thing that really changed with Dash’s behavior was how he treated Danny. He didn’t pick on him anymore and he had cared about him, but he immediately resumed the same habits with both of Danny’s friends. Any time that Dash covered for Danny’s whereabouts during ghost fights, the only thing he could think to do was antagonize Sam and Tucker. He could never think up any actual excuses that wouldn’t cause more problems. 

Danny missed part of the conversation. By the time he tuned back in, Sam was glaring at Dash from across the room. 

“Just because he’d rather spend time with me than you-”

Danny’s ghost sense picked that moment to go off and he couldn’t think of a more convenient time for it to have happened. He stood up sharply and made his way out of the classroom quickly. The door slammed behind him as it closed and he was a couple steps down the hallway when the door opened behind him again.

“Danny, wait-” 

“Why do you do that?” Danny turned and frowned at him. 

“What?” Dash’s brows furrowed.

“Why do you dig at them like that? Make them feel bad about what’s going on?”

“Manson-” Dash started but Danny interrupted him. 

“No. Sam and Tucker are mad at me because of you. They think I’m always ditching them to go hang out with you instead.” 

“That’s not my fault!” Dash shouted back at him. “That’s the ghost’s fault!” 

“But they don’t know that!” Danny stared at him. “All they know is that I’m on good terms with you now and I disappear all the time. They know something is up.” 

Dash shuffled where he stood. He knew he was causing a rift between Danny and his friends. No matter how much he liked to antagonize them, he wasn’t proud of it. He wasn’t trying to put distance between them. 

Danny sighed. “She keeps making jabs about us being together like it would be crazy. Like it would be the worst thing in the world.” Danny looked up at Dash. “I would like it if it wasn’t the craziest thing in the world. If it could actually be true. But with the way you treat my friends-” He shook his head. 

Everything around Dash stopped. What? 

“Danny-”

A blue mist came out of Danny’s mouth again. He shook his head.

“I gotta go.”

“Wait-”

Danny ran around the corner away from Dash.

“What did you do to him?” 

Dash looked down the hallway to see Sam glaring at him. Tucker stood next to her. 

“What?” He asked. 

“He just ran away from you? What did you do to him?” She stomped her way over to him.

“Nothing!” Dash held his hands up in a surrendering motion. “We were just talking and he had to go-”

“We’re in the middle of class. What else would he need to be doing right now?”

“Yeah. Why would he be leaving?” Tucker asked. 

“He, uh, went to-”

Sam ran past him and around the corner Danny went down, Tucker close on her heels. Dash followed behind them knowing Danny would already be gone but they didn’t stop there. They ran down the hallway and out the door leading outside. 

“Danny?” She shouted. “Where are you?”

Dash was the only one that noticed Danny floating in the sky. He was fighting an animal type ghost.

“Uh, guys, I think we should probably go back inside.” 

He pointed up at the sky and Sam and Tucker followed his finger. Sam’s eyes widened and she looked around the front of the school again. 

“Danny!” 

Phantom must’ve heard that one because he turned his head to look down at them. The ghost took that moment to hit Phantom, sending him flying through the air. Now he was much closer to them. 

This ghost looked horrifying. It was animalistic but it looked uncannily like a person. Stringy, hair looking fur and teeth curved into a creepy smile. 

“Get to safety! Now!” Phantom shouted down at them. He shot another ectoblast at the ghost. 

“We have to find Danny first!” Sam shouted in a panic. 

“He’s not out here.” Dash turned to go back inside the school. “Let’s just listen to Phantom and get somewhere safe.”

“That hallway doesn’t lead anywhere except outside! Where else could he be?” Sam asked, still turning around looking for Danny. 

“He didn’t-” 

“Danny!” Tucker shouted. 

Dash growled. Why didn’t they just listen to him? 

The ghost let out a shriek and Dash squeezed his eyes shut and covered his ears. 

“Go inside, now!” 

Dash’s eyes opened at Phantom’s shout. He looked back up into the air. 

Dash stared at the ghost that was hovering in the air in front of them. It was cackling, its head thrown back into the air. It looked back at the ground directly at Sam and promptly shot an ectoblast out of its mouth. Dash saw Sam’s mouth open the slightest bit and everything slowed down. Danny turned, following the path of the blast but when he tried to fly towards her the ghost grabbed onto him, trapping him. 

This was one of Danny’s best friends. She might hate Dash’s guts but Danny cared for her more than she hated him. 

Without another thought, he pushed himself into a run and sprinted his way across the grass. He put himself between her and the ghost and grabbed her just as the blast hit him in the back.

He could hear Sam scream as they fell to the ground. Tucker was shouting from somewhere else but Dash couldn’t make much out past the ringing in his ears. He could hear scuffling in the air above him but it was muffled. The pain in his back radiated out and he could feel it in every jostle as someone shook his body. 

Everything started fading away and Dash hoped he wasn’t dying. Distantly, he wondered if this is how Danny felt when he died in the portal. 

The voices fell away and so did Dash.

~~~~~~~~~~

Slowly, the world came back to him. The first thing he noticed was the steady beeping nearby. The second thing was how bright the lights were against his eyelids. 

He groaned and he heard some shuffling to his left. Someone placed a hand on his arm. 

“Dash?”

His heart skipped a beat and he slowly pried his eyes open. He was laying in a bed in the hospital and Danny was standing to his left. 

“Danny?” Dash croaked out. He tried to sit up but Danny pushed him back down against his pillows. 

“You shouldn’t move too much. You got hit pretty bad.” 

“You got the ghost though?” Dash asked. 

“Yeah, he got the ghost.”

Sam and Tucker walked into the room and stood next to Danny. 

“Uh, no I asked if Phantom got the-” Dash fumbled, trying to cover it up.

“It’s okay, Dash.” Danny said. “I told them. I thought it might be better if they knew.”

Dash looked at Danny’s two friends. They didn’t look like they were mad at him anymore. Or like they hated him. It was relieving that they knew. Danny didn’t have to keep avoiding them or keep secrets anymore. 

“If we’d known in the first place we could’ve helped, you know.” Sam said, shooting both of them a look. 

“Yeah. A team always needs a tech guy.” Tucker crossed his arms in mock frustration.

“But we do understand why you guys have been acting weird for the past couple months.” Sam turned to look at Dash. “Thank you for helping him even though you didn’t have to.”

Dash nodded, dumbfounded.

She stared at him a moment longer and pulled her gaze away. “And thank you for knocking me out of the way of that hit. Sorry it landed you here.”

Dash shook his head. “You’re Danny’s friends. You’re important to him. I didn’t want you to get hurt because of all this ghost stuff.” 

“That’s a nice thought, but you should also try not to get yourself hurt.” Sam said. 

“Yeah.” Danny frowned. “You promised.” 

Dash shrugged. “We can call it karma.” 

Tucker stepped forward. “We need a name.”

“A name?” Danny looked up at Tucker.

“Yeah, like a cool ghost hunting team name.” He waved his hands in the air. “What about Team Phantom?”

Sam snorted. “That sounds dumb.”

Tucker planted his hands on his hips. “Well, do you have any better ideas then?”

Danny’s hand slowly made his way down from his arm to his hand as they talked. He entwined his fingers with Dash’s and gave him a squeeze. Dash squeezed his hand back. 

Everything would be okay. Everything was okay. 

[obscuremantisman]

man, i've lost idea of what i was writing, i'm just feeling like writing bout an old siren male reader. Would you guys like that?

Anyways, have this, some more of my random thoughts about Eyeless Jack, with a small scenario with you, i guess.

⪧ I appreciate criticism, ideas, and your opinions. ⪦

I feel like Jack's ritual proceeded with him getting shaved, thus why his eldritch form would be pretty much hairless.

He was unconscious, drugged hard so as not to struggle against the horrors he'd pass. But he shot up, he woke up to the pain inside his eyes, hot tar mixed with blood escaping his eyelids and burning his cheeks as he agonized.

He was cold, naked, and scared, the chains holding him down as he contorted and sparmed to get free. His screams echoed through the place as the cultists rushed to hold him down. He could hear them whisper among each other, this wasn't the way it was supposed to go.

Those were the last words that Jack Nyras heard, "We have to continue! we don't know if our master won't be back this way! Just-.." Before he was consumed by the pain and fell into the arms of death.

I honestly feel conflicted about how Eyeless Jack is mostly portrayed, i hate it more than i like it. He is so.. so cutesy? so casual, so, so very human (spooky).

He was human in the far past, and the whole ritual gives me the idea that he'd become numb towards his old self if he could ever remember anything about it.

What is that weird black around him that looks like a hoodie? It's his skin. One of my interpretations it's that the cultists poured hot tar mixed with blood not only on Jack's eyes, but on his body too. Whatever entity was trying to possess Jack, was shaping him from inside out as it tried to accomodate, using that mixture put on his body and fusing it to Jack's skin. It shaped his claws, it furthened his senses. Then the ritual stopped, the entity had left the unfit vessel, Jack woke up, woke up to hunger, woke up to fear, breaking out of his chains and feeling the primal instict for survival.

Although i think like that, i also think that the Eyeless Jack with a hoodie looks very cool, i love the idea of eldritch beings with casual clothing in general, and a hoodie does matches Jack.

But sadly i don't think any hoodie or pants is strong enough for that thing. He'd ruin any clothing in the span of hours to days.

Jack would probably look awkward in clothes too, i can imagine him act quite goofily while wearing them as it's such a weird experience for him. It'd rub agaisnt his skin as he moves, and it'd tingle his senses with the new sensations.

If you were to put somehow a shirt around Jack, you'd find yourself probably stifling a laugh at the way he looked in them. He'd be in a tense stance, feeling the fabric around with his claws, slowly creating holes on it while trying to figure out what in the world is that thing.

And apparently, the little tag on the shirt rubbed the back of Jack's neck in the wrong way few seconds later into his investigation. Which got him to be desperately hissing and clawing at the back of the shirt. You wouldn't be able to even do a thing because he'd be too agitated, his sharp claws going all around, but don't fret, it's not necessary for you to intervene. He's already shredded the shirt into pieces by the time you've opened your mouth to offer help.

I think it's neat that one headcanon that Eyeless Jack is actually able to remember about his past, like in most versions. It gives a little more of humanity to him, an extra layer of complexity that i don't think is explored enough and is just brushed off like nothing.

I feel like he'd be so different from his human counterpart since he's literally a newborn eldritch abomination. Like, the moment he woke up, it wouldn't really matter if he did have memories from the past or not.

One thing i see is the fact that people like to give Eyeless Jack some insecurities, which is neat, but the only real scenario of insecurity i can imagine that this thing would have is if he were to have a human companion. And if you're curious about what the insecurity would be, it'd be because of his smell. No, it's not because he eats humans nor his looks, he can't see nor can i even begin to imagine this dude having an existent patience to be docile to a human that actually cares about what's on his menu.

Oooo i forgot to talk his face! I just love the way he can be just anything behind that mask, but i most definitely do not think it's a hot dude behind it. I also don't have a fully formed view on how it is, but i like to imagine it to be haunting, worn out, a tragic tale of the past being told in his simple complexion. The people who draw him alien-like have a special place in my heart, for sure. Lots of teeth? funky teeth? an abnormal mouth? disgusting black goo that spills from time to time from a funky face? weird long sharp tongue? i looove it and i eat it up every damn time.

And the last subject i'd like to touch is about Eyeless Jack, what do i think it would be of him if he was able to somehow form a bond with someone? and what if it was you? yeah, it's impossible, bye. But on an actual note, you'd have to somehow survive against him, much like Mitch did. god i hate that guy, why is he canon?

Your relationship would start off as the expected, the prey and the predator, Jack trying to shred you into pieces and you escaping each damn time like a rascal. With a very, very long time that relationship subtly became friendlier. Jack would come around to stay in the kitchen, sniffing the air as you cooked, to steal your bed as rain poured outside and the weather dropped colder, and to in rare ocasions, drop by a few organs for you. He has tried to get you into eating these little gifts. Hisses, growling and teeth clanking definitely not convincing you in the slightest. Jack still happens to come around to hunt you, but those are rarer and they are definitely lazy attempts as the scars around your body from such encounters are lighter than others. Jack thinks of you as his human pet and you think of him as your eldritch pet, you two simply accepting the existence of each other.

Sorry for the big delay, i'm not in the epic writing mood, got lots of ideas in head.