#men in suspenders look cool

[xmrnothingx]

Samus Aran from Metroid

Samus Aran + suspenders. One of those doodles that kinds just kept going until I drew the whole thing.

[wandasaura]

IMGONNAGETYOUBACK

summary — after you push wanda to her limits at the pumpkin patch, she returns the favor once you get home

warning(s) — dom/sub dynamics, slight mean!wanda, punishment, spanking, pussy spanking, thigh spanking, flogger, spreader bar, condescending tone, light degradation, slight dumbification, praise kink, aftercare, men/minors dni

kinktober

The position she had you in was nothing short of compromising, definitely beyond humiliating, but it had been more than earned after your attitude carried on throughout the nice day of fall activities she had planned for you both, you could see that now, even if you whined behind your hands that concealed your flush cheeks from her dominating stare. There was no reason for your constant complaining and grumbling, bratty remarks and sarcastic quips slowly twinging her smile into something forced and sad, even as she dragged you through a pumpkin patch filled with perfectly round pumpkins for picking and whimsically shaped gourds with amusing bumps and ridges. You hadn’t had a reason, merely not being in a good mood when she’d dragged you out of bed before your social battery was ready. That wasn’t an excuse for your behavior, you’d told her that in your apology on the car ride from the pumpkin patch to the apple tree farm, but still you needed to be punished, reminded of your place beneath her; she’d already made her mind up on that.  

Your back was flush against the plush gingham print comforter, its sweet vibe reflective of the equally devine aesthetic of fall with its burnt orange stripes and murky cream patches, your legs held taught by the spreader bar suspended from the headboard, keeping you exposed to her view with your legs above your belly and your cunt unhidden despite any efforts made to gain back some modesty. The cool air blew against your center wickedly, provoking goosebumps to rise along your skin as you anticipated the next blow to come from what could either be her hand or the flogger she held tightly. Her previous hits had been interchanging, a pattern only identifiable by the movements of her body reaching and grabbing, letting go and holding on. She was in no mood to warn you about which type of sting would come from her swats, nor did she feel pity enough to keep her strikes the same harshness. Some were soft, pleasant, welcoming, others were crippling spanks of blinding pain that left a powerful, slightly unpleasant sting behind that you would feel for days. Tears pricked your eyes as her palm clashed against the globe of your ass again, right in the spot that the last three had fallen. You wiggled vehemently, desperate to get away, to lighten the sensation of pain that was becoming more agonizing than pleasurable, but the spreader bar and rope bound you in place, and her hand only further emphasized your vulnerability when it fell upon your thigh with an equally cruel spank, pushing your legs closer to your chest, only opening you more for her eyes to drink in.  

“You were so bratty, my love, so testy, and now you’re trying to run away from my hand. Haven’t I told you, never bite off more than you can chew.” Her tone is inflated with that sickly cold condescending tone that dampens your cunt even against your best attempts to remain unaffected, and a lewd whine slips off of your lips, mingling with the tear tracks that have slowly begun to dampen your palms that still cover your mouth and cheeks. She allows you this much control, this slightest ounce of modesty, but its not without her ministrations practically tripling on your ass. “How pathetic you look, reduced to nothing but a sobbing pet on my bed. Tell me, darling. Will you try that attitude with me again?” 

“No!” You sob, unprepared for the next strike that comes, but it falls onto the center of your ass just after you’ve answered, and it leaves you writhing, thrashing for security that isn’t prohibited, not until she’s done with you anyways. “No! I promise! I promise!” 

“Hm.” She coos, and you can feel her jostling the bed as she reaches for the flogger discarded near your hips. It’s a strike that feels like a peace offering, the instrument not nearly as severe as the pain her hand is capable of bringing upon you. “I don’t know if I believe you, darling. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you remember what happens to little girls who want to catch an attitude after this.” 

Your blood runs cold as you feel the flogger trail across your most definitely scarlet red ass, it kisses your skin with its leather delicacy, cooling the patches that feel so painfully warm from where her palm had struck the most, but then it trails upward, higher and higher, past the dip of your ass, up to your thigh and you know you’re in for it now. A weak plea falls off of your lips, strained and muffled by your hands, but Wanda has made her mind up already, and your desperate attempt to earn yourself pity falls flat. The first lick of the flogger clashing against your sensitive skin is pleasurable, and a breathy moan fills the air at the same time as another lands in the same spot. That isn’t pleasurable, not anymore. You whine, subjected to the harshness of her assault with no escape, but Wanda doesn’t seem to care that you’re writhing and wriggling about, whining and whimpering so daintily sweet that it nearly contradicts the cruelness of her actions as she rotates between her palm and the flogger deliciously so. You’ve stopped counting how many strikes stain your skin with tingling, stinking pain, but when you think its over, when the blows lighten, she only starts again, high and lower, in the middle, on the side, assuring that every inch of your skin is red and bruised for days to come, wanting to assure you remember your place beneath her each time you sit or brush against something. 

A sharp cry falls off your lips when the flogger trails lower once more, the official marker of where her next destination will be. When it falls between your legs, catching on your clit that's pulsating and erect despite the pain that warps your senses, you’re hysterical, a babbling mess of pleas and whines. The once pleasurable sensation has ebbed away, and yet Wanda’s cruelness remains intact. You’re not sure how much longer you can take before it becomes too much, before you’re trying out your safe word and begging for forgiveness and comfort. She’s pushing you to your limit, the same as you pushed her. 

“Shh.” She concedes, her tone soft and light as it floats through the room and lands upon your ears, somehow feeling a million miles away despite her close proximity to your body that's ablaze with sensations beyond simplistic definitions. “Almost sweetheart, almost. I know you want to cum, do you think you can cum from me spanking this cute little cunt. Mmm, you’re all spread out for me, all drippy and soft. You’ve been tempting me, teasing me with this little clit that jumps anytime I hit you. It’s only fair I get to play with you how I want, isn’t it, sweet girl? You’ll let me play with you? Spank this pretty cunt raw?” There’s a subtle undertone to her taunting, a gentle easiness in her words. She’s asking if you can take more, promising that she won’t overdo it, bringing you back down to that pit of pleasure despite the stinging pain that still shoots through you. 

Unable to form the words on the tip of your tongue, you simply nod your consent, your hands finally falling away from your face as they grab onto the comforter beneath your back, sodden with sweat and arousal that has dripped down your body from your weeping entrance that remains empty and untouched. 

“My hand or the flogger, sweet girl. You can pick this time. No surprises.” She cooes gently, her fingers delicately spreading your folds, massaging the skin that hasn’t been striked yet. Tauntingly, she dabs her finger against your entrance only to pull away when you moan in sought after pleasure to instead marvel at the ropes of arousal that cling to her digit red from the impact of her palm clashing with your ass. 

“Hand.” It’s a weakly mumbled decision, but one that Wanda hears and accepts with a pleased hum. The position she has you in is beyond perfect, your entrance and clit unhidden and so spankable. It doesn’t dawn on you that this had been the plan all along, but it had been. Wanda had wanted to reduce you to nothing but a desperate submissive, wanted to remind you of your place, and selfishly she’d been waiting for the right time to truly spank your cunt, more than just the few soft teasing taps she gives whenever you ask her to go down on you. 

The first hit is soft, but the second is hard, and the third is harder. She’s not trying to break you anymore, but there’s still an ounce of punishment in her movements, although you can’t help but gasp and writhe in pleasure each time she strikes your clit so perfectly with her palm. You’re not counting how many times she’s strikes you, but before you know it, your back is arching off the bed and you’re pleading with her for permission to let go, to cum from her spanking your cunt with her hand, as dirty as it sounds. 

“You want to cum, darling? Go ahead, cum for me. Make a mess on my hand, it’s okay. You’re forgiven. Just let go, let go. Shhh, there you go, so good for me. Such a good girl.” She coaxes you through the powerful orgasm that laps at your being with immense intensity, not easing up on the spanks she delivers to your sensitive, abused skin. When you calm down, desperately tapping at the bed for her to stop, she’s undoing the cuffs around your ankles, placing the spreader bar aside and collecting you into her arms. You cry weakly, nuzzling your face into her neck as you mumble apologies and soft, indistinguishable things that equally break her heart and heal it. “All is forgiven. You took your punishment so well. Such a  good girl. My good girl. Let me get you cleaned up, huh? Put some lotion on you, get you in some comfortable clothes, and then well just lay here and cuddle, okay?” 

“Hold me. Please, just hold me for a little bit.” You plead, your voice scratchy and hoarse. 

“Of course, sweetheart. I’ll hold you for however long you need.”

[naughtyjjk]

being seduced by stripper gojo

characters: gojo x fem reader warnings: 18+, smut, stripper, strip club, pole dancing, revealing outfits, lap dance, strip tease, dirty talk, dry humping

you have no idea what compelled you to come here, but there’s no denying that you’ve been stressed lately, and you need to let loose, at least for one night. the atmosphere is nice—all cool toned colours and dim lighting and music loud enough to drown out any thoughts of doubt you might have about spending the late evening hours at a strip club of all places. the most highly rated strip club, in fact, with the hottest men around. there’s bound to be someone who’s your type. or so you’ve been told.

these places are designed to be inviting, you know. but that doesn’t mean you’re immune to their tactics, enticing viewers into a world of sin. everywhere you look, there are attractive bodies flaunting around the room, guys with flirty smiles and skin showing and downright scandalous outfits, all giving you more attention than you’d normally get anywhere else.

admittedly, you’re already kind of turned on just from being in the midst of all this. maybe that makes you an easy target. maybe you don’t care. walking around, you let yourself enjoy everything there is to offer, and it doesn’t take much to learn that you’ve arrived just in time for something exciting that’s about to happen.

tonight, there seems to be only one topic of conversation: gojo satoru, one of the most highly requested dancers, is going to make an appearance. from what you’ve gathered so far, he’s supposedly very good at his job, and many people have been anticipating his show this whole week. and it’s scheduled to start in only a few minutes.

finding a seat for yourself, you join the crowd in waiting for the upcoming performance. because you’re curious now. all of the workers here have been extremely good-looking and know how to flirt with the audience, using their bodies to their advantage. what is it that sets satoru apart from the rest?

thankfully, you don’t have to wait long because the person who steps onto the stage next can only be satoru, given the cheers that immediately erupt into the air as soon as he walks into view. seeing him now, you can understand right away why he has such a well-known reputation among the regular patrons here.

satoru enters the stage wearing very little, which seems to be the norm among the dancers. there’s a black choker around his neck. his entire upper body is fully exposed, save for the two thick bands of suspenders that run down his chest, conveniently covering his nipples. lower, a pair of tight, tight underwear hangs off his hips, barely functioning to hide anything.

beside you, you hear people saying, holy fuck, he’s hot, and yeah. you wholeheartedly agree. if you’re being honest, satoru looks like someone who has stepped right out of your personal wet dream, someone you’re definitely going to dream about again in the future.

the music for his routine starts, a filthy beat that echoes deep in your bones. satoru begins to move, swaying his hips to the rhythm as he walks toward the audience, touching himself all over. feeling himself slowly, sensually. his hands run down his neck, fingers sprayed out as they drift down to his chest and stomach before finally stopping at his crotch.

he’s confident, smile so fucking cocky but undeniably hot at the same time. he knows he’s good. he’s got the audience right where he wants them as soon as he stepped out. there are dozens of people watching, but it feels like he’s looking straight at you when he swipes his tongue across his lips, biting down on the bottom lip suggestively.

and—oh. oh god. you squeeze your legs together, arousal shooting straight to your pussy. it’s getting increasingly uncomfortable to sit there, heat rushing south, as you anticipate what’s coming next.

but you can’t look away, either. satoru is now spreading his legs farther apart, thrusting his hips into nothing, but it’s somehow absolutely mesmerizing. he works his body with experience, in smooth rolls that show off all his muscles as they flex and contract. one hand runs through his hair while he looks out at the crowd with darkened eyes, and the other cups between his legs, teasing both himself and the viewers.

it riles up the audience, riles you up, because when satoru finally removes that hand, it becomes obvious that he’s at least half hard.

he walks over to the pole in the middle of the stage and hooks a leg around it, pressing his erection against the metal to grind against it a few times, seemingly getting himself off. his eyes are hooded, lips parted. it’s a display of rehearsed seduction and it fucking works because you’re fully captivated, eyes fixated solely on him.

eventually, satoru spins and turns around so that his back is against the pole. he sinks down in one fluid movement, knees spreading wide, leaning forward so that his back is arched as he raises his ass higher. every action he makes draws attention, the arousal tangible and thick in the air. when he shakes his hips, you can’t help but feel wetness gushing out of your pussy, wishing you were there in the place of the pole. wishing you could feel those sinful, gyrating hips touching you instead.

as the dance continues, you don’t know how much time passes. it could be only a few minutes or hours that you sit there, and all you’re capable of doing in the moment is follow satoru’s every movement, engraining the scene in front of you into your mind forever.

turning back around, satoru winks in your direction—you can’t be sure if it’s at you or someone beside you—but your body stills anyway, pussy aching with desire. you watch as satoru makes one final spin around the pole, slow enough to show off all angles of himself, before he drops to the ground again, hips thrusting out.

the routine ends with satoru basking in the cheers of the audience and you breathing heavily in your seat, so fucking turned on.

.

normally, this is when you would leave, but you still haven’t recovered from that performance, so you sit there a while longer. hoping that you’ll come back to your senses soon.

the music changes and other dancers fill the stage, but you’re not paying attention to any of that anymore. you gaze follows satoru as he disappears behind the left wing and reappears descending down the steps that lead to the main floor, where a group of his fans wait to greet him. they chat for a while and then satoru turns his head and somehow, through the crowd of people between the two of you, locks eyes directly with you.

satoru says a farewell to the group, something that has them squealing, and makes his way across the room, walking with purpose in your direction. not a second later, you find him right in front of you, the sudden proximity enough to make your whole body heat up.

glancing down at you, satoru says, “hey there, pretty girl.”

“um,” you reply intelligently. you blink and take a look around to make sure that he’s actually talking to you. “hi.”

running a hand down his chest, satoru sways his body lightly to the music and somehow manages to make it look natural. “did you enjoy the show?”

you nod, mouth suddenly dry. you’re still processing the fact that satoru is here, so close, talking to you. flirting and clearly interested in you, for whatever reason. it’s unexpected, but you’re definitely not complaining. “yeah, it was—good. you’re good.”

“just good?”

“no, i mean—” you pause, then blurt out, “you’re hot.”

a slow smile stretches across satoru’s face at that, and he takes a step forward, inviting himself onto your lap. his hips are lifted just enough that he’s not actually in contact, body making slow, lazy rolls. teasing. “what’s your name?”

you tell him, stammering, pulse beating a mile per minute. he’s so fucking close to you. he’s so sexy that you can hardly form a coherent sentence. choking back a moan, your hands grip the edge of your seat to refrain from doing something that you’ll regret later.

a series of increasingly filthy thoughts run through your head and in that moment, all you can think about is how you want to rip off satoru’s clothes, what he would look like fully naked. how it would feel to hold his cock, the weight of it in your hands. his cock sliding and grinding against your pussy—

fuck. you have to turn away and remind yourself to chill the hell out. to not fall so easily for the charms of the dancer whose job is to make you get worked up like this. but, well, there’s no denying that satoru is good at everything he does. and he��s hot, like you said. he looks even better up close than he did on stage. so when you feel a warm hand on your jaw, guiding your face back to the front, how could you ever resist?

“baby,” satoru says, lowering himself so that he’s properly seated on your lap now. in this position, you can feel his hard-on against your pussy, the bulge of his pants pressed right between your legs. you swallow thickly. “i’m going to get jealous if you keep turning away. look at me.”

your breath catches in your throat. it’s like satoru has you locked in a trance, the rest of the world disappearing around you because nothing else matters. you have nowhere left to look but at him, at the way sweat rolls down his abs, strong thighs caged around your legs.

“yeah, that’s it.” satoru moves his hips just slightly, but it’s enough to make you really feel him against your own body. jesus christ. “focus on me and how good i can make you feel.”

it’s not fully grinding, because he’s still teasing you more than anything, but the only thing separating the two of you is your own pants and the very thin fabric that satoru is wearing. if it weren’t for those, you would actually be fucking. the mere thought of it has you letting out an involuntary moan.

at the sound, satoru perks up and smirks, eyes darkening. he works his hips harder, applying more pressure, and your brain effectively short circuits. “mm, you’re wet, aren’t you? i bet your panties are soaked for me. so fucking turned on already. such a good girl.”

oh, you know. you don’t need satoru to tell you how far gone you are now, how your pussy is aching and throbbing within the confines of your pants. you’re almost embarrassed by the growing feeling of lust coursing through you, the want and desire you feel toward him. this is quite possibly the horniest you’ve ever been in your life, and you’re losing all sense of rationality embarrassingly fast.

“y-you—” you start before you have to stop because satoru lines up his cock directly with your pussy and ruts against you filthily, calculated. it makes you gasp, bucking up on instinct when he retreats. and fuck, you’re panting now, having been given a taste of the kind of pleasure satoru can provide you, and it only makes you want more.

“go on,” he encourages, far too amused. “what were you saying?”

eventually, with visible effort, you manage to choke out, “you’re—ah—you’re hard, too.”

“i am. all because of you, baby,” satoru says suggestively and impossibly inviting. his mouth moves to your ear to whisper, “how about we go somewhere quieter? just the two of us?”

a shudder runs down your spine, arousal swirling in the pit of your stomach. and you can tell exactly what he’s implying, knows that you should probably be a bit more cautious in these situations, but it’s hard to think logically when someone like satoru is this close to you. giving you an offer that you could never turn down. you don’t even realize that you’re nodding rather eagerly until you’re being pulled up from your seat, that enticing grin back on satoru’s face as he leads you away from the main stage.

.

the two of you go into a private room that’s small but well-furnished. the lighting is dim and seems to cast a spotlight on the sofa in the center of the room. music is still present here, but not as loud. unlike the main stage, you have no problem hearing satoru when he gives his next instructions.

“make yourself comfortable,” he tells you, and you go over to sit on the couch.

you can’t believe this is happening. there’s arousal thrumming inside you, veins running hot with the anticipation of what’s to come.

in front of you, satoru unclips his suspenders and tosses them aside. they didn’t hide much to begin with, but even still, you take the opportunity to drink in the sight of his fully naked chest. and god, does he have a nice body—strong arms, well-toned abs, hardened nipples. seriously the whole package in one insanely attractive person.

satoru walks closer toward you and doesn’t waste any time, sinking down to his knees in front of the couch. he pushes your legs apart and runs his hands up your trembling thighs.

“need some help with this?” he nods between your legs, the hint of a smirk dancing on his lips. a hand passes over your clothed pussy, lightly grazing against it, and the groan that escapes you is awful.

“please,” you breathe out. you hate that you sound so wrecked already.

it makes satoru grin as he leans forward, rising higher. “don’t worry, i’ll make you feel good. but there’s just one little rule that you have to keep in mind…” he trails off, pausing for suspense. his hands slip under your shirt, traveling up to squeeze your breasts outside your bra. at the same time, he whispers into your ear, “no touching.”

you gasp, arching forward. your mind goes blank for a second. fingers twitching, you have to physically stop yourself from reaching out, already coming close to breaking the only rule you’ve been given. arousal rushes through you at once, and you wonder, not for the first time, how it’s possible for satoru to know exactly what turns you on.

“fuck, s-satoru—”

“mm,” he hums, satisfied. “you look good like that. so fucking desperate for me.”

then he gets up, throws one leg on either side of you, effectively straddling you, and sits on your lap. he rocks his hips gently back and forth a few times before wrapping his arms around your neck. satoru is looking at you with hooded eyes, with pure lust and desire, and the intensity of his stare makes you feel wanted like you never have before.

jesus christ, you curse mentally. this is seduction perfected to an artform. there’s a beautiful, naked man giving you a lap dance and this has only just started but you’re already dripping in your pants.

you’re not prepared for when satoru brings your faces close, just mere centimeters apart. it knocks the breath out of you, heart beating wildly in your chest. satoru’s mouth is parted, your lips brushing, almost kissing but not quite. all it would take is for you to lift your head, chasing after him, giving in to the ever-growing desire to taste him. but his words from earlier echo as a warning in your mind: no touching.

“did you think you could break me that easily?” you ask, feigning composure. except it’s obvious just how affected you are by everything. you’re sure that satoru can feel your pussy throbbing helplessly in your pants now that you’re this close to each other.

“yes,” satoru says, confident. and you don’t even care that you’re being played so easily; your traitorous mind only thinks of pressing those smirking lips against your own. “i think i could. looks like i almost got you there, anyway.”

he ghosts his lips down your neck, almost kissing, almost tender, but never actually making contact. his warm breath follows, trailing down to your collarbones. and you want him, you want him so badly. you’ve never wanted a man more than you want satoru now, but you’re not allowed to do anything. it’s so fucking cruel.

in your seat, you shudder. your body reacts to his every action, and you’re sure that it’s only encouraging him. “f-fuck, no fair.”

“that’s right, baby,” satoru murmurs. “i could make you forget everything but me… where you are, how to think, the one rule you’re supposed to follow…”

swallowing hard, you have to grip your hands on the couch, knuckles turning white, to stop yourself from reaching out. you know that all of this will be over if you touch him, but it’s so, so tempting.

the worst part is that the rule doesn’t apply both ways. you’re not allowed to touch, but satoru can. and he takes full advantage of it, hands roaming all over like he’s starved for contact, under your shirt and up to your chest, snaking behind to unclip your bra. you gasp when you feel his bare hand groping your breasts, holding the weight of them in his palms, massaging them, playing with your nipples. he flicks at the sensitive nubs. his thumbs circle around them, pinching them with just the right amount of pressure between two fingers.

he does this until he draws out a low, guttural moan from you. the cocky grin is back on his face, and you hate that you’re playing right into his hands, but you can’t help it. he’s fucking good at what he does.

soon, he abandons your breasts, sliding his hands back down your sides to trace smooth circles on your inner thighs. he grazes over your pussy countless times but never applies any pressure, never fully gives you what you want. it’s not enough, and you can’t stop yourself from bucking your hips up to meet him.

and then—fuck, you think you’re going to lose your mind. satoru unzips your pants and pushes it down just far enough for the dampness of your panties to be exposed. you can’t even deny it: you’re so wet, so turned on. he runs a single finger over your panties, feeling your arousal, and you moan brokenly, thinking about having those long fingers inside you.

throughout all this, you wonder how you must look, so desperate and struggling to hold yourself back. you’re panting, chest heaving, entire body burning on fire. when satoru pulls away to get a better look at you, a charge of tension passes between you, so thick it’s almost suffocating.

“naughty girl,” he murmurs, still rubbing you over your panties. never giving you a chance to breathe. “you must be aching for it.”

you moan again and feel yourself getting even wetter, soaking the material further. “m-more, satoru, please—”

you’re not even sure what it is that you’re asking for, but satoru only grins before removing himself from your lap. a whimper escapes you and you almost beg him to stay, until you realize what it is that he’s doing.

a private show, just like the one he gave on stage earlier, but much more intimate and filthy. satoru doesn’t hold anything back, moving to the beat echoing in the background, performing body rolls one after another. and now that he’s standing in front of you, showing off his body, it’s obvious that he’s fully hard. there’s an impressive bulge between his legs, making his already tight underwear seem even tighter. the material stretches to accommodate his length, to the point where it looks like it could break at any moment.

your eyes follow his every move, every shift of his muscles, holding your breath and physically unable to look away. because satoru is thrusting his hips like he’s—like he’s actually fucking someone right then and there, letting out increasingly suggestive sounds, grunts and moans that will haunt you at night. and you so badly want to spread your legs and have him thrust into you instead.

and then—oh god. satoru hooks his fingers onto the waistband of his underwear, a thin strap that wraps around his pelvis, and begins to pull it down but pauses just as it’s about to slip over his cock. he’s watching you closely, eyes flickering back and forth between your face and your dripping pussy. and you know how eager you must seem, shamefully excited to see what the thin fabric conceals.

but satoru only smiles wickedly and removes his hands entirely, spinning away to the beat of the music. he twists and turns, goes back to thrusting his hips tantalizingly in the air. he runs his hands down his chest, then dips into his underwear again.

“i’m not supposed to take this off, you know,” satoru says, teasing it lower and lower. “but for you, i want to. i really want to.”

you swallow. “w-well—”

the waistband sinks lower, revealing more of his smooth skin. “you’d like that too, wouldn’t you?”

there’s no way you could lie in a situation like this, so you give up all sense of dignity and say, “fuck yes, yes, i—”

your pussy agrees vehemently, throbbing between your legs. you have to choke back a moan when you see the fabric catching and releasing at the head of satoru’s cock, the very tip of it poking out into view.

“i’m sure you do,” satoru hums.

he pulls it back up, playing innocently with the strap, and you swear you could die from the anticipation alone. this has to be the best strip tease you’ve ever gotten by far, but also the most frustrating. you’ve never wanted to rip the clothes off someone so fucking badly before.

but satoru isn’t done yet. he turns around so that his back is facing you and bends over before pulling his underwear all the way down in one go, revealing what little had been hidden by the satin, his ass on full display. then, all too quickly, it’s back up again and this time you do let out an unfiltered groan.

fuck, satoru is beyond skilled at getting you riled up, making your pussy so damn wet with arousal. and he knows it too. when he turns back to face you, the smile on his face is absolutely cruel and he starts to sway his hips again, in that hypnotic way that makes you want to beg him to fuck you already.

“shit, just—” you can’t help but let out a desperate whine. “take it off. please.”

satoru grins like he’s got you right where he wants you and winks. “since you asked so nicely.”

he finally begins to remove his underwear completely—except he goes slow, painfully and torturously slow, revealing one inch of his cock at a time. you’re on the edge of your seat. it feels like an eternity before the whole thing comes off and satoru steps out of it, tossing the last of his clothing somewhere to the side.

for a while, you can only stare. you’re entranced by the way his cock curves up to his abdomen, bobbing in the air, flushed and hard and demanding attention. you’re embarrassingly obvious in the way your eyes are fixated on it, wanting to trace the prominent vein on the underside. wanting to touch and taste it.

that’s when you notice—satoru isn’t just hard; he’s wet, too. beads of precum roll down his shaft, proof that all of this is turning him on as well, that it’s not only for show. a hand wraps around the cock, stroking a few times, and it takes a second for you to realize that he’s jerking himself off right in front of you. holy shit.

“well, what do you think?” satoru asks, twisting his hand and moaning. the tip of his cock is flushed red, now leaking more than before. “was it worth the wait?”

you nod, not trusting yourself to speak, and the noise that escapes you is not human. but it’s very, very appreciative. you feel your pussy pulsing hard between your legs, wanting so badly for satoru to touch you like how he’s touching himself.

what you don’t expect next is for him to let go entirely and drop down to the floor. smirking, he looks up at you from that position, at the growing wetness where your pussy is hidden behind your panties, and licks his lips. then, on all fours, satoru starts to crawl toward you with evident desire on his face until he’s kneeling right in front of you once again.

heart hammering away in your chest, you swallow thickly as a fresh wave of arousal washes over you. satoru runs his hands up your thighs, rising so that he’s sitting on your lap again, but still not quite close enough for your hips to touch.

he leans forward to lick your ear and you immediately shudder. in a low, seductive voice, he whispers, “i guess you can resist the temptation, after all; you haven’t touched me even once. good girl. do you see how fucking hard i am for you?”

the praise makes your head spin, and you let out a shaky breath, groaning. “s-satoru…”

“want to feel my cock on your pussy?”

that makes your pussy throb, very much into the offer. “fuck, please.”

so, satoru moves closer until you’re touching, his naked cock against your clothed pussy. your bodies pressed together. and then satoru rubs his cockhead up and down your pussy, sliding between your thighs, moving his hips in circular motions, grinding into you like he’s determined to take you apart. throughout it all, he’s watching you with an intensity that has your whole body burning under his gaze.

“does this feel good?” his breath is warm on your neck. “tell me.”

“a-ah—” the next time he fucks against you, you gasp, squirming in your seat. it takes everything you have to not buck up into the delicious friction and shamelessly rut against satoru until you come. “y-yeah, yeah, don’t stop.”

time seems to stretch indefinitely, and satoru takes his sweet time making slow, sensual rolls of his hips, unraveling you little by little. meanwhile, you’re trembling in place, whining and whimpering, pussy aching for release. it’s driving you fucking crazy, mind swimming with pleasure. you know that you’re probably not going to last much longer like this, and it feels like he’s been teasing you for hours.

satoru is getting off on this too, just as vocal, each thrust growing more and more frantic. his cock leaks onto you. and when he starts talking again, whispering directly into your ear, you lose all semblance of control and feel the arousal building inside you, threatening to tip you over the edge.

“you know,” satoru starts, punctuating his words with a filthy grind that has you moaning, “you caught my eye when i was on stage. i saw you watching me, so turned on… practically fucking me with your eyes. did you think you were being subtle, pretty girl?” he chuckles at your embarrassment. “i could tell that you wanted me. that you were—hah—lusting after my body. and i knew i had to have you all to myself.”

“f-fuck,” you moan, head falling back. you replay the memories of satoru dancing on stage in your head, how he had commanded the whole room, drawing everyone’s attention to the way he worked his body. the body that’s currently on top of you, straddling you and bringing you right to the edge without mercy.

“mm, and i could tell that you tried to resist it at first. but i love breaking down girls like you. i love the challenge. and look at you now, baby.” satoru slides one hand up your shirt to latch onto your nipple again, and the other hand to circle your clit through your panties. the combined stimulation makes you cry out, driving you to the brink of madness. “so wrecked for me. you want it so fucking bad, don’t you?”

the moan that escapes you is loud and needy and you’re basically begging at this point. you sneak a glance down at where you two connect, the sight satoru’s cock on your pussy so fucking lewd, and you think you’re going to come at any second now. “ngh—satoru—s-satoru—you’re gonna make me—”

“yeah,” satoru breathes out, voice raspy. he picks up the pace, rocking into you much harder than before. “yeah, bet you want me to put my cock in that tight little pussy of yours, huh? f-feel me throbbing inside you while i fuck you—hah—fuck you so hard and deep—”

“oh, my god,” you curse, panting under him. you’re a shaking mess, and you can’t stop yourself anymore; your hips rise to join satoru’s, meeting his every thrust. you can feel it; you’re right there, right there. your orgasm is hovering just on the periphery. “a-ah, fuck—i’m—i’m gonna—”

satoru hums in acknowledgement. he shifts his position a little, lifting a leg up to get a better angle, and continues grinding on you, daring you to let go. at the same time, his hand circles your clit even faster, sending tingles all throughout your body. “just like that, baby. imagine how good it would feel to have me thrusting inside you.”

pleasure rushes through you so fast it makes you dizzy. your pussy is pulsing and throbbing, so fucking wet that your panties are completely soiled by now, beyond saving. and you can’t hold back anymore, you’re going to come; you’re going to come right here in front of satoru, shamelessly, and you want it, you want it so bad—

“fuck, fuck, i can’t—w-wait, stop, i’m really—o-oh, i’m close—”

“wanna see you come for me,” satoru encourages, grinding even more deliberately against you, bringing you closer and closer to your climax with each calculated roll of his hips. “you’ll let me come too, right? be a g-good girl now, and let me come all over your panties.”

“god, yes, give it to me,” you moan, so incredibly turned on by the idea of satoru spilling on your panties, right over your throbbing pussy. it’s so fucking hot. your body is moving on instinct, and all you can think about is chasing after your release. “hah—hah—s-satoru—” you pant, shaking and writhing. “i can’t—can’t hold—ngh—gonna—"

and satoru’s mouth is right by your ear again when he says, “that’s it, baby. show me what that pretty face of yours looks like when you come.”

holy shit—hearing that, you don’t think you could hold back any longer even if you wanted to. with a strangled cry, you throw your head back on the couch, hips bucking up wildly and back arching into satoru. your thighs are trembling when you come, pussy pulsing, pulsing, pulsing and making a sticky mess of yourself. it’s all overwhelming and your chest heaves, only vaguely aware that satoru is coming, too.

he fucks you through your orgasm and his cock throbs hard before he’s moaning your name, hips stuttering and shooting out his release is spurts. his come splatters all over you, just like he said, white and thick and filthy on your stomach and panties. landing right over your clit, over your pussy. you moan again, sounding broken, fucked out. it’s a waste—you’d rather have his come inside you—but the erotic sight of it makes up for that.

satoru’s cock is still twitching, even a few seconds after you’ve both caught your breaths. he hovers over you, that perfect body—strong thighs and hard abs and those striking blue eyes, the intense look he gives you that makes him irresistible. god, you weren’t supposed to be this easy to seduce.

slowly, you inhale and reorient yourself, feeling the aftermath of your orgasm subsiding. your mind is still a bit hazy. when you meet satoru’s gaze, all you can say is, “fuck.”

“that good?” satoru asks, always so damn smug and full of himself. he runs a hand through his hair, smirking. “don’t miss my cock too much when i'm gone. next time, i just might consider fucking your pussy for real and giving you a taste of true pleasure.”

his fingers find your panties again, your swollen pussy, and rubs the area. you gasp, hips jerking. so sensitive, especially after your orgasm. and satoru knows, of course he knows; he did it on purpose. he loves being able to get a reaction out of you, controlling your body with a single touch.

you try to glare at him, but it’s weak. it hardly means anything after he gave you one of the best orgasms of your life, making you come so hard without even putting his cock in you. without even touching your pussy directly. it’s the kind of orgasm that you’ll replay in your mind when you’re alone at night and feeling pent up and horny, picturing him in your mind as you get yourself off.

next time. well, you think. you definitely hadn’t been planning to come back to the strip club after today, but now you suppose that it can’t hurt to make another visit if satoru is going to be there.

.

tag list: @megumisdivinedogs @urlilwhore @l0rdgeosupport3rr @purple-obsidian @l0rdgeosupport3rr @minni-creations @fos-tis-zois @the-reas0n-is-y0u @cantfeelherface @rxmbzzz @lysaray @zelzablues @str4wbrrycandy @that-goth-bisexual @simping4u @iminlovewqr0w @sharks31 @pseudowho @jisoonunn @outkasti @anathemaspeaks @fushigur0slut4 @barryatsumu @d0nk3y-k0ng @shasaaa15 @wil10wthetree

(comment to be added)

[weedpallor]

Wrong girl made right -ch1

Mob Wandanat x reader

18+

Summary-your walking to work one day and you get kidnapped being mistaken for someone else but they can’t just let you go now can they and your too cute to kill

Warnings:murder, mafia, mean wandanat, mob wandanat, mommy kink, daddy kink, guns, manhandling, manipulation, forced relationship, dark wandanat, reader is a big baby, wandanat threaten her with death

Photo is ai

You were walking around the city heading to a local bar, you lived in one of the most dangerous cities in the country, it was full of mafias, gangs and all around awful people. you had learned to fit in and just go with the flow. It was never easy growing up in a foster home you had parent they just werent good ones so you ended up being placed in a shitty foster home and it was honestly worse then living with your parents. the forster home was a mess there was too many kids and always fights, the house was just pure chaos. Once you had turned 18 though you had started your own life away from being a scared little child. you worked in a bar the one you were heading to now it was a fairly chill bar not many issues happened and your boss was super cool.

As you made your way through a dark alleyway that leads to the bar you work at the alleyway was filled with homeless and beggars you smiled at them hating that fact you couldn’t help more but quickened your pace wanting to get out of the dark cold alleyway it smelt grim and made your stomach turn on a daily basis but it had begun to be normal for you.

Once you reached the exit of the alleyway you took a deep breath of relief, the semi fresh air refreshing your lungs it was refrshing being out of that alley it smelt like things that you never thought you would have to smell walking to work.

Suddenly you felt large viney hands on you and a blacl silk bag placed securely over you head you thoughts were going while as you thrashed around trying to break free from the people holding you they seemed to be men based there strength, you were terrified all that was going though your mind was `am I gunna die?` `whos grabbing me?` `WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?` questions flooded your mind to the point you were dizzy.

You screamed out loudly but a hand quickly clamped down on your head and an object was smacked across the back of your head.

The little light you could see slowly darkened as you lost consciousness and went limp in the arms that were holding you tightly. The last thing you could feel was being dragged across the rough ground and being shoved into what you would assume was a vehicle.

When you next woke up your head was spinning the pain blossemed from the back of your head where you were hit to the sides and front it felt like it shot though your head like a bullet. You could barely even lift you body let alone head. You tried to lift your hands to your head, the pain blossoming and increasing as your worries got worse. You wanted to ease the pain but you found that your arms and legs were bound to the chair you were sitting on. The bag was still placed on your head stopping you from looking around at where you were but you could tell it was cold because your entire body was shaking and shivering. The room was freezing the room was so cold it was as if the cold was seeping into your bones. `who the fuck likes rooms this cold` you thought.

You tried struggling against the restraints, you couldn’t free yourself but you had managed to get the bag off your head by tilting your head down and shaking your head intensely ,making the bag fall to the ground softly, your eyes widened in shock as you saw the room you were in.

It was a spacious room but it was cold and empty other then a few hooks on the wall that look as though they are to suspend a person, you eyes continue to travel around the room it was dirty and there was old splatters of blood on the floor your face turned to disgust and fear as you saw a tray next to you filled with knifes and guns and multiple torture weapens your mind raced with questions ‘where am I? Who’s house is this? What did I do? Am I going to die.’ Your thoughts were running a million miles per houryour mind was swimming with bad thoughts and confusion.

Suddenly the door swings open to reveal a fairly tall woman with long beautiful auburn hair her hair was like silk. She was beautiful. You were stunned by her beauty.

The woman looked familiar. She looked like- oh shit she was Wanda Maximoff she and her wife run one of the most feared mafias you had heared all the rumours and stories of them even seen faint photos of the women. Your jaw goes slack your mouth open in shock ‘what could you have done to piss off a mafia boss’ you thought as she started walking over.

Wanda looked at you when she had first walked in the room she realised you were the wrong girl she had been wanting the girl who had hacked into their system she was frustrated that you weren’t the girl she had been hoping to tournament but she saw something in you she continued walking towards you her eyes shimmering with something unknown to you.

Wanda slowly assess you looking you up and down “hm your cute what’s your name sweetie”

Wanda thinks for a moment looking into your eyes she wasn’t going to let you go but she was deciding what she was going to do with you.

Wanda lifted your chin making you look at her. You stared up at her nervously opening and closing your mouths a few times before speaking “I-I im y/n a-are you gonna….let me go” you ask fearful of what she might reply with.

Wanda pulls away slowly “no. Sweet girl I’m not”

You look at her confused as to why she said it so confidently “but I didn’t do anything wrong why am I here” you say angrily your voice lased with confusion and frustration you were getting annoyed and because of that most rational thouhts left your brain.

Wanda’s eyes narrow at you “don’t speak to me like that” her accent drips through slightly she softens her gaze taking a deep breath “you are here because my men made a mistake and got the wrong girl but you my sweet….” She leans in and grabs your chin again “you are adorable and I want you I want to own you”

You start struggling in the chair you are restrained in “let me out you phyco” you spit at her.

Anger flares in Wanda’s eyes “stop.” She says firmly her tone making you stop. “Now don’t be a brat I can still blow your brains out” she picks the gun up and taps it on your temple threateningly.you were starting to realize you were dumb for trying to argue with her

When you look at her totally shocked she smirks and starts speaking “now you wouldn’t want that would you” the barrel of the gun gets trailed down the side of your face making a tickling sensation wanda brings the tip of the gun to your lips.

She smirks at you with a predatory gaze “open.” She demands taping the gun against your lips impatiently, she was not one to say something twice.

You open your mouth reluctantly and slowly your lips parting far to slowly for the slovakian so she shoves the barrel of the gun into you mouth quickly making you gag around it and start trying to pull away in panic. you were shocked by the suddendness and panic fills your eyes you looked up at wanda pleadingly.

Wanda looks you in the eyes her eyes blow out leaving barely any colour to be seen “god Natasha is going to love you, your just adorable aren’t you” she pushes the gun further into your throat making you gag louder.her smirk got biggershe brushes her thumb across your cheek gently.

She pulls the gun away slowly and looks down at the now covered in saliva gun “awe did baby make a mess oh no” she wipes the end of the gun on your cheek before placing it on the tray beside you “now sweet thing I have to go deal with the idiot who brought you here so I need you to drink this water for me need to make sure your hydrated before I leave” she says a untrustworthy smile plastered on her face.you could barely tell she was lying but her smirk made you not want to believe her.

She opens the bottle of water and puts the drink near your lips “drink or I can knock you out with my bare hands” she says seriously making you realize it definately wasnt water. You take a large gulp of the water not wanting to be knocked out with force the water flows down your throat it tasted horrible making your face screw up in disgust.

Your eyes shimmer with tears “what’s in that”. Wanda let’s out a small laugh seeing your disgusted face she was definately how the stories made her sound.

“That water, my darling has zolpidem in it, it will help you sleep while I figure out who you are and get Natasha informed” she says as she smiles at you with fake sympathy as if she didn’t just drug you Wanda was already planning of ways she is going to corrupt your innocence and make you her compliant little doll.

You slowly feel your head begin to get dizzy and it drops to the side tilting onto your shoulder “you're not going to hurt me right?” You say in a muffled voice worried that you wouldn’t wake up again.

Wanda let’s a laugh ripple through her as she watched you begin to get dizzy “um not yet, I won’t as long as you behave” she gently strokes your hair as you body goes limp in the chair she was smiling down at you maybe she did have a sweet side `unlikely` you thought.

Your vision starts to blur and everything begins to go black but Wanda’s hand on your hair stroking your hair is slightly grounding and helping you panic less.

You slowly start to wake up you don’t know know long it had been but your head was hurting 10 times more now and your vision was blurry to the point you couldn’t make out anything in the room.

Once you started to come to your senses you noticed you were no longer in the cold room at on that hard uncomfortable chair but instead you were in a warm cosy bed you managed to lift your head of the mountain of pillows and mutter to yourself “wow these lot are rich holy crap” you looked around the luxurious room it was massive it was probably bigger then your entire apartment.

You attention focus on a letter on the bedside table you look closely at it and pick it up the letter says:

“I’ll be back soon stay where you are sweet girl”

You looked around the massive room it was hard to focus your eyes but you could tell they were rich the room had a massive kings size bed, placed in the middle of the room up against a wall the bed was a dark grey colour it was a pretty bed and looked extremly expensive there are two night stands on the side of the bed they were a black colour that complimented the grey well the walls were a dark shade of grey as well, on the left side of of the room there was a vanity placed next To a door labeled unsuite

"rich bitches" you mumbled. you turned your head to the other side of the room as you switched sides you noticed a big tv facing the bed, drifting your eyes to the right there was two more doors one labeled closet and the other had no label but a small pad lock "why’s it on the inside" you thought it was the way out but whne you looked back to the tv there was a door next to it with a hand print scanner to get out and in it looked as though it was also on the other side of the door you decided that was the main door to the bed room but what was the other mysterios door you wondered

suddenly you head food steps walk towars the room the door next to the tv was definately the main door to enter and leave then you realized "shit someones coming" you plopped your head down and pretended to be asleep.

The door beeps as the hand is placed on the other side of the door suddenly you hear two voices one you remembered as Wanda’s.

“She’s so cute nat I just wanna ruin her” you hear wanda say in a excited voice

“Well show me then” what you assumed was Natasha’s voice was rough but also very smooth sounding she said it with a playful tone.

“Look at her her names is y/n y/l/n isn’t she cute” Wanda says playfully “she’s like a little doll oh and she’s pretending to be asleep”

Your eyes widen in shock. ‘Oh no’ you thought you yourself.

“Princess, show Natasha your pretty face and stop hiding….Now.” Wanda demands in a cold tone her playfulness leaving her voice

Slowly you sit up your mind was filled with fear you didn’t want to get up but you was scared what would happen if you didn’t you looked up at them both fear filling your eyes.

“Why hello.” Natasha says in a cruel tone filled with fake sympathy.

You shake a little out of fear “ar-are y-you n-na-nat-Natasha?” You ask your voice is shakey and quiet.

Natasha smirks “I am sweet thing Wanda has told me all about you” she says with a fake sweet voice it’s sounds wrong in her mouth the voice makes your cringe but it also adds to your fear she was not a nice person you though.

“Bu-bu-but s-sh-she doesn’t know me” you say in confusion what would she have to tell Natasha other then your name.

Wanda speaks up her voice as smooth as velvet it radiated confidence “I know everything about you my sweet. Everything” this made you more scared then you were which you didn’t think was even possible

“H-how?” you say quietly your mind was hurting with how much you were thinking.

“She has her ways of finding things out” Natasha says she sounded bored of the topic like she didn’t want to talk about it anymore. “Now let’s get onto rules”.

A few hours later they had told you the many rules they have for you (*let me know if you want me to write what the rules would be*) it was a long list and you were going to stuggle to remember they had shown you around there home it was barely a home it was massive and seemed cold other than a few rooms Wanda’s office was the best room it was homey with books and painting on the walls but there was a modern theme to it making it seem dark they said you weren’t allowed in the basement which confused you.

The two decided to give you mostly free roam around the house other then certain areas and on certain days they informed you the building was heavily guarded and there was lots of gates and locks so you wouldn’t get out even if you tired plus they would find you no matter where you was, this all made you fear the women a lot more then you should.

After the tour you were sat in the bedroom you was originally in you was informed it was in-fact your personal room and you could change it up a little if you behaved will you?… you still didn’t know what the strange door was for it made you curious and anxious to know. The two locked you in the room for the night saying they would see you in the morning.

You were sat at the massive vanity playing with the various items in the draws when you looked up and noticed a camera in each corner of the room “great” you mumbled to yourself huffing you felt useless you couldn’t do anything you were stuck forever unless you manage to escape….

You started trying to come up with plans to get out and how you would get away from these phycos and there cruelty.

After a bit you started getting tired so you walked over to the wardrobe hoping there was some clothes there and surprisingly there was a few a note was attached.

“We will go shopping soon but for now these will do unless you want to walk around bare ;)” the note was unsettling you put the clothes on they were comfortable but were a bit big on you never the less you climbed into bed and tried sleeping.

After a few hours of crying and struggling to sleep out of fear and anxieties you slowly drifted off and fell asleep.

the next morning you woke up feeling like crap your head was in so much pain ou was on the verge of tears, your eyes were puffy from crying all night, your mind was swimming in worries and anxities you felt like pure crap.

as you were sitting up you heared the beep fron the door lock and wanda walked in swaying her hips she was full of confidence and it made you feel slightly attarcated to her no no no you cant think that. wanda gave you a evil smile "good morning baby looks like youve been crying" she says cruely it was more of a statement than a question. you stayed quiet not knowning how to respond she was very confusing did she want you to speak or not? you thought.

Wanda smirked whne you didnt reply "right little lady, up you get. go shower and brush your teeth, there will be some clothes waiting on your bed for when your done oh and if you come out looking like youve been crying i wont be happy" she threats.

you nod and stand up on shakey legs as you start walking pass wanda she suddenly grabs you and pulls you up flush against her

you blushed hard then wanda connected her lips to yours she kissed you with alot of force but it sent sparks shoting though you when her lips connected to yours as she pulls away you were as red as a tomato she smirked seeing you flustered and out of breath

she pushes you towards the unsuite "go shower natasha is waiting downstairs” she says playfully.

You walk into the bathroom.

Authors note:sorry this is short Ive only just started writing on my laptop hope you like it there is a few mistakes I’m sorry let me know any tips in the ask box if you have any please <3 lmk if you want a part 2 :)

[kettlefire]

High Speed Chase (DcxDp)

Johnny 13 didn't know what happened. One moment he was revving his bike through the Ghost Zone. Performing tricks between each slab of floating rock he drove through.

He had left Shadow with Kitty. His girl was having some kind of girls' night with a few other specters. Johnny was enjoying a bit of alone time, letting his mind wander and his body go on autopilot.

That was until he felt a strange force pulling him, trying to drag him and his bike in a different direction. Johnny tried to fight it, he really did.

With a flash of light, a vacuuming feeling, and moment of disorientation, Johnny was suddenly on a road. A real road. A solid road from the living world.

His wheels jostled and stuttered over the sudden texture change, and Johnny had quickly gotten his bike back under control.

It wasn't Amity. That was the first thought that crossed his mind as Johnny doubled down. His bike roared with life, and he made no move to stop. Not until Johnny knew what the hellw as going on.

In the first few moments, Johnny let his eyes wonder. Taking in the space around him. There was a strange machine that was quickly getting smaller behind him.

Something made of metal and wires, a ball of red energy suspended between a circle. There were cars around, and many of them seemed to have been abandoned.

Then there was the vehicles not so abandoned.

A large black car that seemed close to a modernized tank. Two bikes speeding down the street beside Johnny. He couldn't see through the window of the car, but Johnny could guess what would be in the driver seat.

Someone dressed up in a costume just like the two men on the bikes. The dipstick flashed through Johnny's mind, but he was too distracted to make any connections.

He had no clue where he was or why he was suddenly spit out into this world. He didn't know why he was being chased down by these three masked vigilantes.

So Johnny did the only thing he could think to do, he sped up. He slightly regretted leaving Shadow with Kitty, knowing just how much his friend could help right about now.

Johnny didn't know what these living people wanted with him, but he wasn't about to find out. Humans never wanted anything good from ghosts. The dipstick's friends were an exception. An exception that doesn't happen.

Johnny locked in, speeding up as he weaved through the streets. He wasn't going to get caught, he refused to let himself.

He needed to get back to the Zone. Back to Kitty and Shadow. He needed to tell the counsel about this. About the way he had been suddenly forced out of the Zone.

This could be dangerous, extremely dangerous. Amity Park was one thing, a town the ghosts were the safest to explore. Anywhere else was like a mine field, safety was an unlikely thing to find.

Especially if Phantom wasn't in this city.

It was a chase that Johnny hadn't felt since he was alive. Weaving in and out of traffic, phasing through obstacles, and even going invisible at some points.

Yet everywhere Johnny looked, one of them was hot on his tail. It was getting harder and harder for Johnny to keep his cool.

He didn't know these streets, these buildings, this traffic. How was Johnny supposed to lose these guys if he was in their home terrif?

Johnny didn't even have the chance to think over a solid escape plan when he found himself skidding straight into an 18-wheeler.

It happened too fast for him to even think of going intangible. One moment, he was speeding down an empty road. The next thing he was staring up at the night sky.

Out of all the things Johnny had expected, he didn't expect the sudden appearance of a man beside him. Concern radiating off the masked man as the vigilante searched him for any wounds.

[hurriane23456]

Through Another’s Eyes

Elliot Bennett had always thought his job was peculiar, to say the least. He worked at Mimic Studio, a company renowned for its hyper-realistic masks. These weren’t the kind of masks you’d find at a costume shop; they were masterpieces, crafted with such precision that they transformed the wearer entirely. Each came with a full outfit, contact lenses to match the eye color, and shoes to complete the look. Mimic catered to movie studios, high-end cosplayers, and a few private clients who didn’t explain why they needed to look like someone else.

Elliot was a junior marketing intern, responsible for social media posts. He wasn’t an artist; and never got close to the merchandise. That evening, he found himself alone at the studio, the whirring machines and half-finished molds silent around him. It was rare for him to have the space to himself, and as he walked into the Mask Room, he couldn’t help but feel the pull of curiosity.

The Mask Room was where the completed works were displayed—rows and rows of lifelike faces suspended on mannequin heads. The designs ranged from average-looking men to strikingly handsome models. The outfits accompanying them hung nearby, tailored to perfection. Elliot’s eyes landed on a mask he’d never seen before: a rugged, stubbled face with piercing blue eyes and a square jaw. The tag read: "Jason – Outdoorsman."

He hesitated but finally gave in, locking the door to ensure no one walked in on him.

Elliot unhooked the mask and carried it to the changing area. The accompanying outfit was folded neatly beside it: a flannel shirt, distressed jeans, and brown hiking boots. His fingers tingled with excitement and nerves as he stripped out of his work clothes, standing in just his socks before pulling on the jeans. They fit snugly, hugging his legs in a way that made him glance at himself in the full-length mirror.

The flannel shirt was next—soft, perfectly worn in, and rolled up at the cuffs. He slipped on the boots, their weight and rugged soles giving him the impression he’d just come back from a mountain hike.

Now for the mask.

Elliot picked it up, marveling at the detail: the faint freckles across the nose, the hint of crow’s feet at the corners of the eyes. He stretched it gently, noticing how pliable yet durable the material felt, before slipping it over his head. The inside was cool against his skin, and he adjusted the edges until they blended perfectly with his neck.

When he looked in the mirror, he gasped. Jason the Outdoorsman stared back at him. Elliot popped in the blue contact lenses, completing the transformation. His reflection didn’t just look like someone else—it felt like someone else. He smirked, tilting his head, running a hand over the stubble that felt impossibly real.

“Damn,” he muttered, his voice slightly muffled by the mask. He rolled his shoulders, suddenly feeling like he could chop wood or trek through a forest.

He could’ve stopped there, but the thrill was addictive. Elliot peeled off the mask reluctantly, placed it back on its stand, and scanned the shelves for his next choice. His eyes landed on "Mason – Business Tycoon."

The outfit was a three-piece suit: charcoal gray with a crisp white shirt, a silk tie, and polished black dress shoes. Elliot stripped down again, feeling a bit silly standing in his boxers in the sterile studio, but excitement overpowered his hesitation.

The suit fit him like a glove, the fabric smooth and expensive against his skin. He adjusted the tie, the Windsor knot sitting perfectly at his throat. The shoes, shiny enough to see his reflection, clicked satisfyingly on the tiled floor.

Mason’s mask was next. It had a clean-shaven jaw, slightly tanned skin, and sharp cheekbones. Once he slipped it on, he inserted the hazel contact lenses and stared at himself.

He looked powerful. Confident. Like a man who owned skyscrapers and never took no for an answer. He straightened his tie in the mirror and let out a low laugh.

“What’s my next big deal?” he joked to himself, his voice deep and commanding.

By now, Elliot was fully immersed in the game. He pulled Mason off, carefully reassembling the set, and reached for something more daring. His hand hovered over a mask labeled "Ryan – Rock Star."

The outfit was bold: ripped black jeans, a leather jacket, a fitted black T-shirt, and combat boots. There were even accessories—silver rings, a chain necklace, and sunglasses.

Slipping into the clothes felt like stepping into a different world. The leather jacket was buttery soft, the rings cool against his fingers. He placed the sunglasses on top of his head, letting them rest in his tousled brown wig—the mask came with hair this time, styled in perfectly disheveled waves.

Ryan’s face had a roguish smirk, a faint scar above his eyebrow, and piercing green eyes. Once he had the mask on, Elliot completed the look with the green lenses and stepped back.

He didn’t just look like a rock star. He felt like one. He struck a pose, pretending to hold a guitar, and laughed.

“This is insane,” he muttered, his voice raspy and full of swagger.

Elliot was riding a high. Each transformation was more thrilling than the last. He could feel the studio’s silence around him, but it only heightened the sense of intimacy with his newfound game. Placing the rock star set carefully back on its stand, he scanned the rows for his next choice.

His gaze landed on something unusual: a mask labeled "Liam – Athlete." The mannequin head sported a short buzz cut and a face glistening with sweat, as if Liam had just finished a grueling workout.

The outfit was a basketball jersey and matching shorts, complete with a pair of size-13 sneakers. A duffel bag sat beside the mannequin, holding accessories like a wristband and a water bottle.

Elliot couldn’t resist. He stripped down and pulled on the jersey and shorts. They felt cool and lightweight, clinging to his body in a way that made him acutely aware of every movement. The sneakers were enormous compared to his regular size, but they fit perfectly, thanks to the padding built into the soles.

The mask was different from the others—it came with a slight sheen, replicating the effect of perspiration. Elliot slipped it on, adjusting it carefully, and popped in the brown contact lenses.

The mirror revealed someone who looked fresh off a basketball court: a chiseled jawline, a confident smirk, and broad shoulders that seemed almost too big to be his own. Elliot flexed an arm experimentally, laughing at how the mask made his wiry frame appear like a professional athlete’s.

“Game on,” he said, his voice carrying a new edge.

As he returned Liam’s set to its place, Elliot felt something shift. The masks weren’t just disguises anymore; they were identities. Each time he looked in the mirror, he felt less like Elliot and more like the man staring back.

He hesitated, his hand hovering over a shelf filled with more masks. Should he stop? He shook his head. No one was here to judge him. He could stop whenever he wanted.

His fingers brushed against a mask labeled "Dominic – Undercover Agent." The face was rugged, with a five o’clock shadow and a slight scar running down one cheek. The outfit was a tactical ensemble: a black turtleneck, combat pants, and utility boots. A leather holster and fake earpiece completed the look.

This time, Elliot didn’t hesitate. He undressed quickly, feeling a rush as he pulled on the tactical pants and secured the belt around his waist. The turtleneck hugged his frame, making him feel both sleek and dangerous.

The boots were heavier than the others, clunking solidly on the floor as he paced. Finally, he pulled on Dominic’s mask, the material molding perfectly to his features. The scar added an air of danger, and the steely gray contact lenses gave his gaze an intensity that made him shiver.

When he stared into the mirror, Elliot felt like a stranger to himself. He reached for the holster, strapping it across his chest, and slid the fake earpiece into place.

“Agent Bennett,” he whispered to himself, testing the new persona. He turned sharply, pretending to clear a room, his movements sharp and precise.

Elliot’s exhilaration outweighed his caution. He scanned the shelves for one last transformation, his eyes landing on a mask labeled "Malik – Urban Legend."

The mask was striking, with smooth dark skin, a neatly shaped beard, and bold features that radiated charisma. The accompanying outfit hung nearby: an oversized hoodie, baggy jeans, and a pair of pristine white sneakers. A thick gold chain rested on the mannequin's chest, completing the ensemble.

Elliot hesitated for a moment. The set was unlike anything he’d tried before, and he felt a twinge of uncertainty. But the thrill was irresistible.

Stripping down, he reached for the hoodie first. It was heavy and warm, the fabric thick enough to feel substantial. He tugged it over his head, the hood settling comfortably around his neck. The jeans were loose, pooling slightly around the tops of the sneakers when he slipped them on. The chain was the final touch, cool against his chest.

Now for the mask.

Elliot picked it up carefully, noting the incredible detail: the texture of the skin, the subtle highlights on the nose and cheekbones, the natural sheen of the beard. Sliding it over his face, he adjusted it until it fit seamlessly. The brown contact lenses were a perfect match for the mask’s warm, expressive eyes.

When he turned to the mirror, the transformation was complete.

Elliot barely recognized himself. Malik’s broad shoulders and confident stance felt worlds apart from his usual frame. The oversized clothes emphasized a casual, effortless style that made him look like he belonged on a street corner or a music video set. He smirked, leaning into the persona.

“What’s up?” he muttered, deepening his voice. He laughed, shaking his head at how different he sounded.

He struck a pose, pulling the hood up over his head, and turned sideways in the mirror. The way the sneakers gleamed under the fluorescent lights added to the image, making him feel like someone who turned heads wherever he went.

Elliot was so absorbed in Malik’s reflection that he didn’t hear the faint click of the studio door unlocking.

-----

“Elliot. What are you doing?”

The voice froze him in place. He spun around, heart pounding, to see Mr. Calloway, his supervisor, standing in the doorway with one eyebrow raised. Calloway’s sharp suit and polished shoes looked completely out of place in the dimly lit studio, but his expression was impossible to misread: curiosity, amusement, and just a hint of annoyance.

“Uh… I… I was just, uh… testing the fit,” Elliot stammered. The deep voice of Malik spilled out of his mouth, making his excuse sound even more absurd.

Calloway took a step forward, folding his arms as he looked Elliot up and down. “Testing the fit, huh?” His lips twitched into a small smirk. “Well, you do look good, I’ll give you that.”

Elliot’s cheeks burned under the mask. He started to peel it off, fumbling with the edges.

“Stop.”

The command made him freeze. Calloway tilted his head, his gaze thoughtful.

“Put the hood back up,” he said.

Elliot hesitated, then obeyed, pulling the hood over his head again. Calloway paced slowly around him, inspecting the outfit from every angle.

“Hm,” Calloway said finally. “I always wondered how these looked in action. You wear it well.”

Elliot shifted awkwardly. “I-I didn’t mean to—”

Calloway waved a hand, cutting him off. “Relax. I’m not mad. But since you’re already having fun…” He gestured to the rows of masks. “Pick one out for me.”

Elliot blinked, unsure if he’d heard correctly. “What?”

“You heard me,” Calloway said, a glint of mischief in his eye. “If you’re going to play dress-up, let’s see what you can do with me.”

“You want me to… pick one?” Elliot asked, dumbfounded.

Calloway shrugged. “I’ve always been curious about these things. Might as well indulge.”

Elliot hesitated, but Calloway’s expectant look made it clear he wasn’t joking. Elliot scanned the shelves, searching for something drastically different from Calloway’s usual polished, buttoned-up look. His eyes landed on a set labeled "Jax – The Punk Rebel."

The mask had a youthful, edgy vibe: messy black hair with streaks of electric blue, a pierced eyebrow, and sharp cheekbones. The outfit was equally bold: a black leather jacket covered in studs, a ripped band T-shirt, tight black jeans, and heavy combat boots. A chain dangled from the pants, and fingerless gloves completed the look.

Elliot hesitated for a moment before pulling it down. He held it up with a small smirk. “How about this one?”

Calloway raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical. “You want me to dress like that?”

“Well,” Elliot said, a little braver now, “you did say you wanted to try something different.”

Calloway sighed but took the set. “Fine. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Elliot stepped back as Calloway began changing. Watching his boss trade in his tailored suit for tight jeans and a leather jacket was surreal. The combat boots added a heavy stomp to his normally quiet, calculated steps.

Finally, Calloway picked up the mask. The punk's wild hair and defiant smirk were a far cry from his usual clean-cut look. He adjusted it carefully, making sure the edges fit perfectly before popping in the bright blue contact lenses.

When Calloway turned to the mirror, Elliot couldn’t hold back a laugh.

“Well?” Calloway asked, his voice a deep rasp that suited the rebellious persona. He adjusted the leather jacket, striking a mockingly defiant pose. “How do I look?”

“Like someone who’d get kicked out of their own office,” Elliot joked, still grinning.

Calloway chuckled, shaking his head. “You’ve got a strange sense of humor, Bennett.” He stepped closer to the mirror, inspecting the transformation. “I have to admit, this is… fun. A little ridiculous, but fun.”

Before Elliot could answer, the studio door creaked open again. Both he and Calloway froze, the playful mood evaporating instantly. They turned toward the sound, expecting to see a coworker or perhaps security. Instead, a man in a black uniform with the company logo stepped inside, clipboard in hand.

It was Frank, the head of inventory.

Frank looked up and froze in his tracks, his eyes widening as he took in the scene: Elliot still wearing Malik’s oversized hoodie and baggy jeans, and Calloway transformed into Jax, the punk rebel.

“What the hell is going on here?” Frank demanded, his voice sharp.

Elliot’s stomach sank. Calloway, however, didn’t miss a beat. He stepped forward, his combat boots thudding heavily on the floor, and gave Frank a mischievous smirk.

“Relax, Frank,” Calloway said, his raspy, rebellious voice a perfect match for the punk persona. “We’re just… testing the merchandise.”

“Testing?” Frank repeated, incredulous. His eyes darted between the two of them. “Do you know how much trouble you could get into for messing with inventory like this? These are high-value items!”

Calloway waved a dismissive hand, clearly enjoying the role he was playing. “Come on, Frank. Don’t act like you’ve never been curious.”

Frank sputtered, clearly caught off guard by Calloway’s brazen attitude. Elliot, meanwhile, stood frozen, unsure whether to defend himself or stay silent.

Then, to Elliot’s shock, Calloway grinned and gestured toward the shelves. “Why don’t you join us? Pick one out. It’s not every day you get to see yourself as someone else.”

Frank blinked, his indignation faltering. “What?”

“You heard me,” Calloway said, leaning casually against the wall. “You’re always talking about inventory this, inventory that. Why not take a closer look? I mean, really experience it.”

Elliot stared at Calloway, his heart racing. Was he seriously inviting Frank to join them?

Frank hesitated, his grip on the clipboard tightening. Then his gaze shifted to the rows of masks, curiosity flickering in his eyes despite himself. “You’re insane,” he muttered.

“Maybe,” Calloway said with a shrug. “But you’ve got to admit—it’s tempting.”

Frank sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “This is a terrible idea.”

“And yet, you’re considering it,” Calloway pointed out, his smirk widening.

After a long pause, Frank set his clipboard down and stepped toward the shelves. Elliot exchanged a wide-eyed look with Calloway, who winked.

“What’s the craziest one here?” Frank muttered under his breath, scanning the options.

Elliot’s anxiety began to shift into a strange excitement as he realized the night had taken a completely unexpected turn.

Frank scanned the shelves, muttering to himself as his eyes darted over the masks. He stopped in front of a set labeled "Boone – The Outland Ranger."

The mask was rugged and wild-looking: sun-kissed skin, a thick unkempt beard, and sharp, weathered features. The outfit hanging nearby was equally striking: a sleeveless leather vest adorned with various patches, a pair of tan cargo pants tucked into scuffed combat boots, and a wide-brimmed hat with a feather stuck into the band. A leather holster with a prop revolver hung at the side, completing the ensemble.

“This one’s ridiculous,” Frank muttered, pulling it off the rack. He turned to Calloway and Elliot, holding it up for them to see. “What do you think?”

Calloway smirked, crossing his arms. “Perfect. Let’s see if you’ve got what it takes to be a ranger.”

Elliot bit back a grin as Frank sighed, clearly regretting every decision that had brought him here, and began stripping out of his uniform. He folded his shirt neatly, shooting a glare at Calloway when he caught the boss smirking.

The transformation began with the cargo pants, which fit loosely but comfortably. The leather vest was snug, its patches adding a gritty, rebellious touch. Frank hesitated at the holster but eventually strapped it on, adjusting it with a scowl.

Finally, he picked up the mask. It was heavier than he expected, the craftsmanship so detailed it seemed almost alive. He slipped it over his head, adjusting it until the edges vanished seamlessly into his neck. The transformation was instant: the tired, middle-aged inventory manager disappeared, replaced by Boone’s rugged, outdoorsy persona.

Elliot handed him the hazel contact lenses, which Frank inserted with surprising ease. Then he placed the wide-brimmed hat on his head, completing the look.

When Frank turned to the mirror, he froze.

“What the…” His voice was rough and deep, entirely unlike his usual tone. He leaned closer to his reflection, running a gloved hand over the mask’s beard. “This is insane.”

Calloway chuckled. “Told you. Looks good on you, though.”

Frank adjusted the holster, his expression a mix of disbelief and intrigue. “I look like I just stepped out of a western.” He struck a mock pose, drawing the prop revolver from its holster. “Bang, bang,” he muttered, smirking despite himself.

Elliot couldn’t hold back a laugh. “You’re a natural.”

Frank turned to face them, crossing his arms. “Okay, fine. I’ll admit it—this is… kind of cool. But if anyone finds out about this, we’re all getting fired.”

“Only if you don’t look the part,” Calloway teased, adjusting his leather jacket. “Now come on. Let’s see how these characters look together.”

Frank groaned but followed as Calloway led him and Elliot to a larger mirror on the other side of the room. The three of them stood side by side: Calloway as Jax, the rebellious punk; Frank as Boone, the rugged ranger; and Elliot as Malik, the urban legend.

For a moment, the absurdity of the situation faded, replaced by a strange sense of camaraderie.

“You know,” Calloway said, grinning, “we could pull off one hell of a heist looking like this.”

The three stood in front of the mirror, their reflections almost unrecognizable. The transformation wasn’t just physical—it was as though stepping into these personas unlocked something freer in each of them.

Calloway adjusted the chains on his jacket, his smirk now almost cocky. “You know, I’ve been running this place for years, and I’ve never actually tried these on. I gotta admit, they’re pretty incredible.”

Frank snorted, tugging at the brim of his hat. “Yeah, well, I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that you’re dressed like a punk rock delinquent.” He gestured toward Calloway’s combat boots. “Those are a far cry from your usual loafers.”

“Hey,” Calloway shot back, “at least I look good. You look like you just walked out of a survivalist convention.”

Elliot chuckled, finally feeling relaxed enough to join the banter. “And I look like I should be running a streetball tournament.” He spread his arms, taking in his oversized hoodie and sneakers. “Guess we’ve all got our alter egos now.”

Frank shook his head, but a small smile crept onto his face. “This is ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous?” Calloway said, raising an eyebrow. “Frank, look at us. We’re living the dream. For years, people have been buying these masks to become someone else, even just for a moment. And here we are, actually getting to experience it ourselves.”

Frank sighed, leaning against the counter. “You’ve got a point. It’s… kind of fun.” He glanced down at the prop revolver, spinning it idly before sliding it back into the holster. “Not gonna lie, I do feel pretty badass.”

“Exactly!” Calloway said, clapping him on the back. He turned to Elliot. “What about you, Bennett? Feeling like a whole new person?”

Elliot hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah, I guess I do. It’s weird… but in a good way.”

The three of them fell into a comfortable silence, staring at their reflections. For a moment, they weren’t coworkers—they were characters, living in a shared fantasy.

Finally, Calloway broke the silence. “You know, we should make this a team-building exercise. Let everyone try on a mask, get a feel for the product.”

Frank groaned. “Please don’t. I don’t think I can handle seeing Jerry from accounting dressed like a Viking.”

Elliot laughed, picturing it. “Or Martha from HR as a biker chick.”

Calloway chuckled, shaking his head. “Fine, fine. But we’ll keep this between us for now. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” Frank and Elliot said in unison.

“Good,” Calloway said, straightening his jacket. He turned to the mirror one last time, his expression softening. “Well, gentlemen, if nothing else, this has been a night to remember.”

Frank smirked. “Just as long as no one remembers it tomorrow.”

Elliot grinned, feeling a strange warmth in his chest. For the first time in a long while, work didn’t feel like work—it felt like an adventure.

Calloway leaned back against the counter, looking at Frank and Elliot with a mischievous glint in his eye. “All right, gentlemen,” he said, cracking his knuckles. “We’ve tried on our alter egos. Now let’s take it up a notch.”

Frank raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean by ‘take it up a notch’?”

Calloway smirked. “We switch. Each of us gets to experience someone else’s transformation. It’s only fair.”

Elliot blinked, his pulse quickening. “You mean… you want us to trade outfits and masks?”

“Exactly,” Calloway said, pushing off the counter. “Come on, don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little sweat.”

Frank groaned, rubbing his temples. “This is getting out of hand.”

“And yet,” Calloway said, pointing at him, “you’re not saying no.”

Frank hesitated, then sighed. “Fine. Let’s do it.”

Elliot swallowed hard, feeling both nervous and intrigued. He glanced at Calloway’s punk-inspired outfit, then at Frank’s rugged ranger look. Both felt so far removed from his own urban style that the thought of stepping into either was dizzying.

Calloway clapped his hands. “All right, here’s how this works. We’ll go one at a time. Frank, you’ll start by switching with me. Elliot, you’re next. Sound good?”

Frank shrugged. “Might as well get it over with.”

Frank unbuckled the holster from his waist, the leather strap creaking as he handed it to Calloway. “Here. Start with this.”

Calloway took it, slipping it on with ease before removing his own leather jacket. The studs glinted under the studio lights as he passed it to Frank. “And this is yours.”

Frank slipped the jacket on, the heavy material fitting snugly over his broad shoulders. The band T-shirt came next, and he grimaced as he pulled it over his head. “This thing’s damp,” he muttered, feeling the residual heat from Calloway’s body.

Calloway laughed as he tugged on the ranger vest. “That’s the price of admission.”

The pants were next, and Elliot couldn’t look away as the two men swapped. Frank struggled to wiggle into the tight black jeans, muttering under his breath about how restrictive they were. Meanwhile, Calloway adjusted the cargo pants, clearly amused by how loose they felt compared to his usual attire.

Finally, they exchanged masks. Frank hesitated as he peeled off the Boone mask, revealing his flushed face beneath. The inside of the mask glistened with sweat, and he handed it to Calloway with a grimace. “This is disgusting.”

Calloway took it without hesitation, slipping it over his head. He adjusted it, the bearded face settling into place seamlessly. “There we go,” he said, his voice now rough and deep like Boone’s.

Frank picked up the Jax mask, grimacing at the sticky interior. “I swear, if I get a rash from this…” He trailed off as he slid it on, the punk’s sharp features replacing his own.

When they turned to face the mirror, Elliot couldn’t help but laugh. Calloway, now dressed as the rugged ranger, looked completely at ease, while Frank’s transformation into the rebellious punk was hilariously out of character.

“How do I look?” Frank asked, his new voice rasping like sandpaper.

“Like you’re about to start a bar fight,” Calloway said, grinning.

Calloway turned to Elliot. “Your turn, Bennett. Let’s see you handle Boone’s look.”

Elliot’s heart raced as he began peeling off Malik’s hoodie. The fabric clung to his skin, damp with sweat, and he handed it to Calloway, who took it without complaint.

“Man, this thing’s heavy,” Calloway said, slipping it on.

Elliot kicked off the sneakers and struggled out of the baggy jeans, feeling oddly self-conscious as he handed them over. Calloway, now fully dressed as Malik, adjusted the oversized clothes with ease.

Meanwhile, Elliot reached for Boone’s outfit. The vest was stiff and warm, the leather almost alive with the residual heat from Calloway’s body. The cargo pants felt rough against his skin, and the holster added an unfamiliar weight to his side.

Finally, it was time for the mask. Elliot hesitated as he picked up Boone’s rugged face, the beard still damp from Calloway’s earlier transformation. He slid it over his head, shivering as the sweaty interior clung to his skin.

When he turned to the mirror, he barely recognized himself. The rugged ranger stared back at him, and for a moment, he felt a strange sense of power.

Frank, now fully dressed as Jax, smirked at him. “Not bad, Bennett. Not bad at all.”

The three of them stood side by side, now fully inhabiting each other’s original roles. Calloway, as Malik, looked imposing and confident. Elliot as Boone, had a rugged ease about him. And Frank, as Jax, felt like a completely different person.

“This,” Calloway said, his deep Malik voice booming, “is what I call teamwork.”

[frmulcahy]

Listening to an episode of the @antiquesfreaks podcast where they cover the costuming in The Terror and here are some amazing moments:

"But Ken, are you the only one of us that put themselves through reading the book?" "I did. Because John Bridgens was trapped inside and I had to get him out and if I read the book good enough, perhaps I could save him"

"If you don't tell these men what to wear, they're gonna look like straight up hoochies."

"As we see in the later episodes of The Terror and discipline does break down and Dundy just starts showing up to command meetings with his suspenders out! Slattern that he is!!!

"Victorian Navy: one to one analog to working at present day Target."

"I heard they flog you at Target."

"I was press ganged into working at Target."

"It's Victorian times. Everyone's wicked fucking repressed and they're about to get wicked un-repressed whether they like it or not, and they're going to show that through their clothing."

"a blur of muttonchops"

"I pre-gamed the show for 5 years with gifsets on tumblr to makes sure I would be able to tell at least the major speaking roles apart, and I still could not tell Little and Jopson apart until I figured out they had different eye colors."

"And now I'm Pilkington SpottingTM as a hobby"

calling JFJ a "fashionable boy" with his "nippies out" because he doesn't button up his coat all the way like Franklin and Crozier

The two regular hosts repeatedly comparing themselves to a delinquent class that their guest is stuck substitute teaching

"I think my character would be hitting a fat doobie right about now"

Discussing Jared Harris being obsessed with his own costuming details like all the mending on Crozier's clothes

Jopson's first appearance - "he's normal and they're normal and everyone's having a normal time here on this completely routine expedition." "It's so normal. Do you ever fall in love with your boss???" "It couldn't have been more erotic if they had just had gay sex."

Stanley and McDonald's button grouping on their uniforms to denote rank

THEY TALK ABOUT THE ICONIC JFJ GANSEEEYYY

Also Irving's Sanquhar scarf :')

"the red sweater of tenderness" sobbing screaming throwing up

"I think The Terror would have been improved if all of the marines had Boston accents for no reason"

Also marines vs normal sailors

comparing sailor's clothes to fast fashion because it's not very tailored lmaooo

The canvas overcoats being period inaccurate but still neat because they're referencing later polar expeditions like what we see on the guys in the Shackleton expedition etc

They talk about irl Goodsir's letter about clothes and the many many shirts!

Nive having to wear a cooling vest under her costume since it was real caribou fur and her coat being patched with sail cloth later.

They go into Yup'ik masks which is super cool! As well as have a conversation about the ethics of visuals/information/knowledge about indigenous artwork being shared with folks outside of those communities.

Repeated! Dan! Simmons! Roasting! As! They! Should!!!!!

Reapted! Nive! Nielsen! Praising! As! They! Should!!!!!!!!

Sophia's "oceanic color theme"

"They let the dresses have colors. The dresses have colors. The dresses have bright beautiful colors, and it's great."

"They had invented aniline dyes and they were about to make it everybody's problem!"

Lady Jane in more solids vs Sophia in more patterns

"'A woman could never possibly understand polar exploration' meanwhil Silna's up there doing it better than all of them."

Clowning on how other period pieces never use bonnets and always fuck up in the hair and makeup department

"I found Harry Goodsir's fursuit btw"

"On a scale of Calypso's Birthday to Fitzjames's Carnivale, how's your impromptu nautical drag ball going?"

"It's actually exactly like The Purge." "It's like a little Victorian maritime Purge."

"As far as metaphor and literary analysis and whatever, scurvy understood the fucking assignment."

"I punched in Scorbutic Nostalgia so that I could remember to read about it later." "I have some literature for you if you want." "Yeah fantastic! I love disease"

"CGI bear expensive"

"This episode comes with a heavy caveat of 'go to Terror Camp'" amazing.

THE DRESSTM

Tozer's Hotspur costume and Dundy's Henry VI costume and their relevance

"This is the last we see of Party!Dundy"

(About Little) "Every day he gets emails :("

Bridgler and Apollo/Hyacinthus stuff fuuuuuccckk

"Hodgepodge, my boy"

"Oompa loompa doompity dacticals, don't indulge your morals over your practicals"

"Rip Hickey you would've loved Joker"

Not a silly quote but just a really fantastic one: "That is what the best historical designers do, is they find these nuggets of information that allow them to tell a story with authenticity, both in a way that is historical but authentic to the characters as well." EXAAAACCCTTTLLLYYYYYY

"Whomst among us has not Joplarped to get through the workday?"

[muschiettistrashmouth]

Heat Wave | Piotr Rasputin (X-MEN)

Note: Hello There! It's almost my birthday so, yay, happy birthday to me! This is the part one of the smut I'm trying to write, but I have a damn writers block right now, so... Anyways, I hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: Some swear words and smut. 18+, if you´re a minor please don't interact.

Words: 1245

A heat wave started to take over the city just as Storm was on mission and couldn’t be there to help cool down the x mansion with her powers. The classes were suspended because no one could concentrate and the fans weren’t handling the job very well.

Bobby created an ice rink for the young kids to play and managed to cool the pool water so other kids could play there, but the sun was too warm to be outside for too long.

The teachers were giving juices and popsicles to everyone that wanted, and the older kids, such as you, Piotr, Rogue and Kitty, were helping entertain the kids that weren’t in the pool or the ice rink.

You got the garden hose and started to wet everyone with it, to see if it helped a little bit. 

There were kids laughing hard when you managed to hit them with the water, you were following them with the hose until one kid hid behind Piotr and you managed to hit him with the cold water, making him yelp.

“Oh gods, I’m so sorry, Pi!” You laughed seeing the other mutant drenched.

He turned to you, a mischievous look in his face.

“You’ll pay for that, дорогой (dear).” He stated, smiling.

You liked him more than a friend, but never had the courage to tell him this, so hearing him talk like this, wow. You had to hold not to bite your damn lips.

“Only if you catch me.” You gave him the tongue and started running away as he ran after you, both laughing as if you had five years.

Professor X was looking out for the kids, even he had light clothes on, as you and Piotr ran past him. As you still held the hose, you ended up getting the Professor all drenched too.

He spat the water that entered his mouth when you drenched him, a little confused at what had happened.

“Jesus Christ, I’m so sorry, Professor!” You stopped running but Piotr didn’t have the same luck as he saw you stopped too late, the russian boy ended up knocking you down with his massive body. Thank the mutant gods he was in his human form at the moment.

“It’s okay, my dear.” The professor grinned at the scene before him. “Careful not to hurt yourselves.”

 The hose fell with its tip up, making it “rain” on top of you two as you looked at Piotr’s face. He was looking back at you, his face so close you could almost feel his breath.

“...Hi” He smirked.

“Hi.” You mirrored his expression.

He got closer, his nose touching yours. You closed your eyes as he finally closed the distance between your lips and kissed you sweetly. It was almost a dream coming true that he was finally kissing you for real.

Jean, who was watching the scene behind Charles, smiled at that, she remembered her first kiss with Scott. She was a teacher, but she was the cool kind of teacher, the one that was a friend. She knew how much you daydreamed about that kiss. 

Bobby threw a snowball on Piotr’s head, making you laugh when he got away from your lips.

“Just a second.” He said, his russian accent thicker as he got up and ran after Bobby to throw a snowball at him too.

You sat on the ground as they ran, laughing at how childish that was. Once Piotr finally managed to hit Bobby with a snowball he ran towards you again and held his hand out to help you up.

—

As the night came by, the heat was still present, but the kids were all sleepy from the amount of activities they had that afternoon. Everyone had pizza for dinner and ice cream for dessert. 

As soon as everyone went to bed, you heard a knock on your door.

You got up to see who it was, smiling as you saw Piotr there with a yellow flower in hand. You knew it was a flower from Professor’s garden, making you smile widely at that and letting him come into the room.

He was wearing only shorts in that heat, as you were wearing your shortest pajamas. He bit his lip as he saw you in it.

“To what do I owe the honor of your visit?”

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you…” He admitted, holding the flower out to you.

You took the flower with a smile on your lips and put it on your nightstand.

Piotr hugged you lightly, lowering his face to kiss your lips again. That wasn’t the best position since he was so much taller than you, so he held your hips and pulled you up, making your legs close around his waist.

You were hungrily kissing each other as he walked to your bed backwards, falling butt first in it and not stopping the kiss. Now you were sitting on his lap. You couldn’t deny how wet you were getting from just a kiss, but you could feel him under your lap and he was definitely hard. 

You couldn’t help how you were squirming in his lap, he was getting impossibly hard beneath you and it was making you so needy. 

“Careful, darling, you don’t want to start something you won’t be able to finish…” 

“I need it, please.” You pouted at him.

He laughed quietly and gave you a quick kiss on your lips again before you got out of his lap to kneel in front of him.

Your hands went to his shorts, pulling them down with his underwear, his dick popped up from the clothes and your eyes widened. He was huge. 

“Fuck-” You licked your lips looking at him.

He smiled at that, his eyes were almost closed with lust.

You licked the underside of his dick, making him moan lightly at that, and you put the tip of his dick inside your mouth. His dick was so big it was stretching your lips so good. 

Looking up at his face through your lashes, you started to suck his length, your eyes were sparkling with lust. 

Piotr grabbed her hair with his right hand, pulling it slightly with each movement of her mouth. The older mutant was moaning softly so as not to wake anyone, biting his lips, staring at her.

 "Fuck..." Piotr cursed.

 The girl relaxed her throat, enveloping him until he touched the back of her throat, but it was not even close to the full length of his cock. With what was outside of her mouth, she masturbated him with her hand.

 "Y/N..." Piotr called her with some urgency. “I’m almost-”

She smiled around him, sucking him even harder so he could cum in her mouth.

It didn’t take long for him to moan loudly and his back to hit the mattress, cumming deep down her throat.

She smiled, her chin was dirty with his cum that she hadn’t been able to swallow.

“Fuck.” Colossus ran his hands over his face before sitting back on the bed, looking at her with desire. “Come here.”

When she got up to sit on his lap, a loud noise was heard. It was one of the children screaming.

They both stared at each other, Piotr put his shorts back on and she wiped her face with her shirt, running out of the room, he was just behind her. The house was being invaded by Stryker’s henchmen.

[randomdragonfires]

If The Sun Ever Rises | Chapter 2

Chapter 2 | Make Me Feel Alive

SUMMARY | After narrowly escaping the Battle Above God’s Eye, Prince Aemond is now a hidden fugitive within the very kingdom he once ruled. Driven by vengeance, he plans to usurp Aegon III and avenge his family. His rage-blinded path to the throne begins with getting rid of Cregan Stark and the men who support his nephew’s rule. Having nothing to lose, he recklessly kidnaps the Northerner’s betrothed - his own niece - hoping to lure him and his men out to fight.

Soon, Aemond finds that memories of a first love are strong, and that he cannot steel his heart against the woman he has loved all his life.

WARNINGS | 18+; Smut; Canon Divergence - Aemond lives (but barely); Violence; Stockholm Syndrome; Mental and Physical Trauma; Angst; Canon Incest; Manipulation; No Happy Endings In This House YAY; Slow burn, I think.

WORD COUNT | 3k

Text Divider by @saradika

As she gradually stirred from unconsciousness, each blink felt like a laborious effort, coaxing her weary mind back to reality. The darkness of the cave enveloped her like a thick cloak, its cool embrace seeping into her bones as she gradually became aware of her surroundings.

With a soft groan, she shifted her weight, the coarse texture of the cave floor biting into her skin. Every movement sent tendrils of discomfort coursing through her body, a reminder of what she’d done. The scent of damp earth and ancient stone hung heavy in the air, mingling with the faint echo of her own ragged, tired breaths.

Summoning her strength, she pushed herself upright, muscles protesting against the effort. A shiver raced down her spine as she wrapped her arms around herself, seeking solace in her sadness.

Her gaze swept across the dimly lit cavern, taking in every possible indicator of human habitation. A tattered sheet lay crumpled at her feet - it had been wrapped around her, she’d felt it. She put it back around her, the threadbare fabric offering little protection against the chill that permeated the air. Her torn shift didn’t help as she closed her eyes, shielding herself against the small sliver of sunlight that let itself inside. The soft murmur of the nearby river provided a constant backdrop, its soothing rhythm echoing through the cavernous space.

Memories come back to her in spades, moments suspended in time. Every instance she can bring herself to remember is painted in hues of sapphire blue.

Aemond. 

She’d thought him dead in war, but he was alive. And despite her valiant effort, so was she. 

She dragged herself out of the cave, each step a battle against exhaustion. The sunlight outside was blinding at first, but she welcomed its warmth after the cold darkness of the cave. Stepping outside, she found herself engulfed by the dense foliage of the jungle. Towering trees loomed overhead, their branches reaching out like fingers towards the sky. The earthy scent of damp soil mingled with the sweet fragrance of wildflowers, creating a heady aroma that enveloped her senses. As her weary eyes caught sight of the river's glimmering surface through the dense forest, a surge of relief washed over her. 

Reaching the river, she slumped down at the bank, letting her legs dangle into the chilly water. It felt refreshing against her skin, washing away the grime and sweat of her ordeal. Looking into the river, she saw her reflection staring back at her, her lip swollen and bleeding, dried blood streaking her forehead and cheek. With a grimace, she dipped her hands into the water, using it to clean the cuts and bruises on her face. It stung, but she gritted her teeth and soldiered through it, determined to rid herself of any signs of weakness. 

When she finished, she allowed herself to drink, pause and simply exist in the comfort of nature’s embrace. The sounds of the forest surrounded her in all its quiet glory. As she sat there, trying to gather her thoughts, she couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and she scanned the surroundings, searching for any sign of danger. But all she could hear was the gentle rustle of the wind through the trees and the soft babbling of the river. Despite her unease, she forced herself to relax, leaning back against the bank and closing her eyes.

When she opened them back, she looked into the water once more. Only this time, hers was not the only face she saw. 

Despite her tiredness, she could not help the rise he evokes in her, right from the pits of her heart. His arrogant smirk was a clear image in the water, and she ran a hand through the river - fingers meeting the reflection of his eye, ripples breaking the watery portrait of him.

His voice was calm yet menacing; predatory yet productive. His face was as unreadable as stone, and she gulped. He had always been hard for her to decipher, but she remembered a time when he’d let her see, let her in.

“You’re awake, mandianna.”

Her future home was too cold for her liking.

She stood clueless and yearning for answers in the quiet of the Godswood, where the ancient Heart Tree stood tall and watchful. The cold of the North gnawed at her bones, a constant reminder of the distance between the warmth of her homeland and the icy lands of Winterfell she now found herself in. But amidst her unease, there was a curiosity that drew her to the sacred tree, its red leaves whispering mystic secrets that she was intrigued by.

As she sat beneath its branches, she couldn't help but feel a pang of longing for the familiarity of her family and the comfort of her own chambers. She felt like an outsider, here in the Godswood where a Lady of Winterfell would be expected to feel at home. 

She wondered if this will ever feel like home. Given the war being waged, she wondered if she’ll even make it that far. 

Luke did not. Sweet, mischievous Luke had died, and she has only now managed to learn to  hold her tears.

Aemond loves her. She refused to believe that he’d do such a thing.

But he did. He did, he did, he did. And Luke…

If she closed her eyes, she could imagine his playful smirk. He’d taunt her into being a little less than perfect and join in the fun that the boys would get into. It would make her so happy…

Why did he do it?

Her Gods gave her no answer, only leaving her with tears, a heavy heart and the foreign comfort of the Heart Tree. She hoped the Old Gods may provide her answers. Lost in her thoughts, she was startled by the sound of footsteps approaching. Looking up, she saw Cregan Stark, her betrothed, standing before her. His presence was unexpected, and she felt a surge of nervousness at the thought of speaking with him - she’d never spoken to him alone after Jace left her here.

"I can leave if you wish." Cregan offered, his tone gentle yet tinged with a hint of sadness. "No, please… Stay," she replied, her voice soft but determined. Despite her reservations, she couldn't bring herself to chase him away. He was the Lord of this land, and soon to be her husband. It wouldn't do to alienate him, it was highly improper.

It was also improper to imagine a man with spun-silver hair and a sapphire eye when he killed her brother…

Cregan settled himself on a nearby stone bench, his gaze fixed on her with a mixture of curiosity and concern. "You seem troubled, Princess," he observed, his words carrying a weight, a certain authority that she couldn't ignore. His eyes held the weight of the world - unlike Aemond’s, whose functional eye held an arrogance that he alone knew how to wear well.

“There’s only so long you can go without being worried and helpless while members of your family die in war, my lord.” His voice gentle yet firm, Cregan said, "Aye, war brings uncertainties and fears we'd rather not confront. That much is true."

She looked up at him, grateful for his understanding, a sense of familiarity growing over her. "But it's not just the war," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. "I’m… so far away from everything I've ever known. My family, my home... it’s distant. Foreign.” She wrapped her arms tighter around herself. “Cold."

When she looked, it was obvious to her what was different about Cregan and him. His eyes were unabashedly kind, calm and true whereas Aemond’s gaze lit a fire in her heart that fazed her to no end. "You're anything but helpless, Princess," he said firmly. "Our match will bring strength and stability to both our houses, and it will bear fruit to bolster the success of your mother, the rightful queen.”

She sighs, his words doing enough to quell her for the time being. “I’m sorry, my lord-”

“No need to apologize." he said gently. "Your burdens are heavy, and it's only natural to get lost in them from time to time."

She felt a warmth tingling in her chest at his words followed by guilt gnawing at her bones. Wasn't she betraying Aemond by finding solace in another's presence? But then, her thoughts turned to her brother, Luke, and the pain of his loss washed over her anew. 

Aemond had killed him, torn him away from her and her family. How could she explain her possibly misguided loyalty to a man who had brought her such pain? She would not wait for a man who was out for her mother's blood, her brother's blood - and in consequence, her own.

Cregan Stark gave her the most sincere smile she’d seen in a long time.

She smiled back. It was easy and simple, nothing like he ever was. All that she needed in a time like this.

Yes, she could love him.

“You’re awake, mandianna.”

She wanted to get up and run. She wanted to make him pay for bringing her this far. She wanted to do much and more, but she couldn’t even bring herself to lift a finger - the fall and the subsequent recovery had taken her for all that she was.

He doesn’t move an inch, staying unforgiving as his eye bore into her own in her watery reflection. He’s not wearing the black leather jerkin she’d seen him wearing when he’d brought her here - right now, he was in a tattered white shirt and the same trousers from before. She noticed the leathers hanging off a branch nearby, presumably left to air out.

Far from being the royal prince he used to be, but some habits never changed.

The right course of action would be to try to escape again, but she knew how fruitless it would be to do so. She was unarmed, tired and hurt. Even at full strength, she would be no match for the dangers that he, or the forest held. She needed rest to try; she needed to recuperate.

But how long can she afford to stay? She didn’t know what his plan was, and she most certainly didn’t want to put a foot wrong. If Aemond had managed to stay alive and plan this far, it was not without support - she wasn’t foolish enough to believe that he was doing any of this on his own.

But who? Who would support him in a time after war when her brother comfortably sat the throne? When the Warden of the North had been steadfastly dedicated to ensuring his safety? 

Before she could think any further, her head started to spin and she let it fall into her hands as she waited for the pain to subside. He finally moved from where he stood, sat beside her and opened his hand to reveal bits of what looked like wood.

“Willow bark, for the pain. It helps.”

She looked at it with all the doubt she could muster up in her weak state, but remembered her lessons well enough. Maesters often encouraged chewing willow bark for pain relief - this much she knew.

She took a piece and popped it into her mouth, the feeling of it being rather unpleasant, tough and gritty to bite. It was too strong for her, and she wished that she could have it in a tea instead - but her head cleared quickly and she forgot the bitter taste.

With both their feet in the water, she let herself calm down as she plotted her next steps. “How long?”

“Four days.” That explained why she felt too tired. Prolonged days-long rest always had a knack of making people want more, especially in the case of injuries. 

She kept chewing the bark, some of it getting stuck in her teeth. The uncomfortableness of it made her wince, and she looked up at the hill behind them - the very one that she chose to fall off of. With a damning sense of defeat, she realized that the fall couldn’t have been too steep - given how deep the waters of the river were, it was very likely that she never threw herself in deep enough to cause any damage apart from unconsciousness.

How stupid had she been in her bid to escape him? How little had she considered?

“It was brave of you to try, niece. Didn’t think you were bold enough to die for a cause, no matter how unfruitful your attempt was.” Arrogance, something else that hadn’t ever changed.

"Bravery, or perhaps foolishness," she murmured, the bitterness of defeat and willowbark still lingering in her voice and breath. "Either way, it seems I am destined to linger in this world a while longer."

Aemond regarded her with a mixture of scrutiny and something else that she couldn't quite decipher. "Destiny has a peculiar way of dictating our paths, doesn't it? The fires…" he stopped himself before he could say more, his tone tinged with a hint of resignation as he diverted from the subject. "Yet here we are, both still clinging to life despite a war and your best efforts to the contrary."

She had nothing to say to him and his tired words, where he gave her everything yet nothing at the same time. He sensed her worn out silence too, eventually standing up and giving her his hand. She looked up at him, his expressions held black and giving her absolutely nothing to think about. She was afraid, but somehow, she knew that if he wanted to hurt her, it wouldn’t be anytime soon. It would give her enough time to keep trying, no matter how many times it took.

“Come.”

She took his hand and walked along with as much strength as she could, slow steps that he was only happy to let her take. When her hold became weak, he took to holding her wrist tight as he guided them. She closed her eyes for just a moment, remembering against her will how he used to lead her through passageways in the Red Keep, spending many a night with her that she would never forget.

The smell of food cooking filled her nostrils as she kept walking forward, and her hurt, recovering body called for it like nothing else. She opened her eyes and quickly clocked that they had come behind the cave that she’d slept in, the riverbank faintly visible from where she stood. 

Aemond turned around, letting go of her grasp as he held her by the jaw, lifting her head up to meet his eye. He looked at her properly, almost as though he wanted to memorize every inch of her before he let her go. He put the back of her hand gently onto her forehead, checking for a fever.

What does he want from her? If he wanted to kill Cregan and Aegon by drawing them out, what would he do to her?

“You need to eat.” 

A wooden ladle sat in a pot of boiling soup, made to hang over a bunch of wooden logs. He poured some into leaves that were fashioned into makeshift bowls, some of the soup dripping from the holes in the cups. She drank, and almost immediately, the warmth of the soup made her skin tingle from how good it made her feel to eat again. The soup was watery and bland, but she found no reason to complain.

The jungle air hung heavy with humidity, the distant calls of unseen creatures echoing through the dense foliage. As she sat on a fallen log beside the makeshift fire, the flickering flames cast dancing shadows across the rugged terrain. The river nearby murmured softly, a soothing backdrop to the otherwise tense atmosphere.

Aemond busied himself with sharpening his shortsword, the rhythmic scraping of the whetstone against the blade filling the air. His movements were precise, methodical, a stark contrast to the chaos that seemed to surround them. She watched him in silence, her thoughts drifting to a time long past, when their lives were simpler, before the weight of duty and destiny had pulled them apart.

The aroma of the soup still lingered, comforting and familiar. She glanced down at the empty leaf bowl in her hands, a small pang of gratitude stirring within her. Despite the circumstances that had brought them here, Aemond had provided her with sustenance, a gesture that spoke volumes amidst the uncertainty of their situation.

"Thank you," she murmured softly, breaking the silence that had settled between them. Her words hung in the air for a moment before dissipating into the night.

Aemond nodded in acknowledgment, his eyes never leaving the blade in his hands. There was a weariness in his expression, a heaviness that mirrored her own. They were both soldiers in a war they had not chosen, bound by duty and obligation to forces beyond their control - and the effect will forever linger.

“He’ll come for me, kēpus. Cregan will come.”

“When he comes, mandianna, I’ll be ready.”

There are many questions she wants to ask him, so many things that she wishes to speak about - but she is too tired and she does not have the strength to fight him, not tonight. 

As darkness began to descend upon the jungle, she rose from her perch beside the fire, the weariness of the day and the sting of her injuries weighing heavily upon her. With a final glance at Aemond, she made her way back to the cave, the cool darkness enveloping her like a familiar cloak.

As she settled into her makeshift bed, exhaustion pulling at her limbs, she closed her eyes and allowed herself to drift into sleep. In her dreams, she saw visions of snow-capped mountains and towering stone walls, a distant memory of Winterfell, her home during the war - where she’d spend the rest of her days if he ever managed to find her.

And so she slept, the whetstone's scraping sounds against the shortsword echoing through the forest. In her sleep-addled state, the last thing she sees is him looking at her as stone meets steel. A small voice whispered in the recesses of her mind, reminding her that escape was not yet out of reach.

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Next Chapter

A/N: This was a bit of a slow, storybuilding chapter. Point is to establish that she's alive lmao. A lot will be happening soon, so yeah! Apologies for the slow filler chapter, and thanks for reading!

[witchygagirlwrites]

Broken Bonds- Part 5

Former (ish) Greg "Mouse" Gerwitz x Reader, Baby Daddy! Jay Halstead x Reader

Jay is there for you when Mouse makes it back to base and is finally able to call but still won't admit that maybe he needs to let you in to the fact that he's struggling more than you know as well.

A/N: This chapter was supposed to go an entirely different way but apparently the fellas wanted to tell their povs (just a little) so here ya go 🤷‍♀️

Warnings: the usual

“Hey, wait up lil mama” you heard Kevin’s voice from behind you when your foot hit the bottom step of the stairs leading up into the precinct. You turned with a smile to see him half jog across the street to you “Morning Kev” His nicknames had slowly shifted once he found out you were pregnant and this most recent one seemed to be the one he was sticking with. 

Once he got to your side he kissed your forehead and cut his eyes at your stomach, silently asking for permission. You nodded so he placed a large hand on your stomach “How’s you and lil bit doing?” you laughed “We’re good. The scan is friday by the way so you’ll know if you’re having a niece or nephew” his eyes lit up “Really? So you starting a group text or what cause you know if not we fixing to be fighting if you tell any of us first” you shook your head “Well me and Jay will know first then Stella, since I scheduled it on her birthday then Will then comes the group text for intelligence” he nodded “I respect that”

-----------

He held his arm out “Can I walk you?” you shook your head again but took his arm regardless. You knew Kevin meant nothing by it, he didn’t see you as helpless by any means. He was simply a gentleman at most turns. Two of the uniforms walked past the two of you and you braced yourself because one of them had made comments under his breath before, but you hoped he wouldn’t be stupid enough to let Kev hear it. He was nearly out of earshot when you heard “Guess she’s shopping for the next baby daddy?”

You felt Kevin stiffen and knew even without looking he’d heard him. “Excuse me?” he asked, dropping your arm to spin around and face both of the other men, effectively putting himself between you and them. “Let it go Kevin” you urged and he looked from them to you “Has this happened before” you cut your eyes at the uniform that had spoke “Get to work and I won’t mention this to Platt” 

He nodded and nudged his partner, both of them taking two steps at the time towards their patrol car once they realized Kevin had indeed heard them. “C’mon. Let’s go to work too” you said, grabbing Kevin’s arm with a small smile like what had just happened didn’t. He remained rooted to the spot “Hell no. What was that?” you shrugged “Just guys gossiping Kev. Ya know? Like saying Jay is partner sexual…. That Mouse probably left because he found out I was sleeping with Jay…that they wonder if Hank was going to kick me out of Intelligence or if Jay fought to keep my spot since I’m a good enough fuck to not pull out of..”

You managed not to tear up at the last one and was proud of yourself for it. Kevin shook his head “That shit aint cool baby girl. You earned your spot, time and again. You’re a damn good cop. You were loyal to Mouse from day one. They keep putting your name in their mouth, I’m gonna knock it out of their mouth” you shook your head “No, you’re not. You’re gonna let it go and not make a big deal out of this because I do not need Hank ripping into the entire fucking precinct or even worse Jay finding out” 

“Of course Jay don’t know. It wouldn’t have gone past one saying something if he did” Kevin sighed and you threw a hand up in the air “Yeah and he would’ve gotten suspended and for what? Some sense of defending my honor? He’s got enough to deal with, please Kev? For me?”  You knew you were asking a lot of him but you and Kevin had been close for a long time, that was how you’d ended up staying with him for a few months when your landlord had kicked you out with no notice when he sold the building.

His shoulders sagged and you smiled slightly “Thank you” he shook his head “You’re pregnant. You have enough to deal with” you shrugged “I’m also a woman, I’m built to handle more” he laughed “That you are lil mama, that you are. Let’s get to work”

Hailey was sitting on the edge of your desk reading over a file while you ran down arrest records of the suspect you were looking at for the murder victim CFD had found in a burnt out SUV on the north end of the park. The Worst part? It was the woman’s husband. From his cell logs and emails you’d uncovered an affair and the financials had shown that he’d been paying a pretty hefty premium to have a life insurance policy out on her that paid out the highest amount. 

“Look at this Hails. His first adult arrest was at eighteen, assault and battery on his then girlfriend because she and I quote went out dressed like a whore” “Guy’s a real peach” she muttered, looking over to your screen. All of you were just waiting on the arrest warrant to come down, you had his cell phone pinged on Hailey’s computer so if he moved it would chime and you could transfer it to a tablet to make tracking him mobile. You were grateful for the skills you had picked up from Mouse since your in field capabilities were starting to become limited, meaning Hank nor Jay wanted you on active takedowns which meant you were stuck driving and waiting in the damn car if a perp was especially violent. 

You laid a hand on your little bump and Hailey cut her eyes at you from the movement with a small smile “They active again?” you shook your head “Not at the moment actually. I think they’re asleep for once” the moment the words left your mouth Jay walked in with Hank “Warrant just came down” as soon as Jay spoke you felt what could only be described as something running across the palm of your hand and you gasped.

Hailey jumped off the desk “Are you ok?” her eyes were wide with worry. You nodded with a small laugh “I think the baby kicked..Jay say something again” Hank raised an eyebrow “Go on Jay, we gotta get moving” Jay met your eyes and you could see he was a little confused before he said “Has his cell moved any?” and sure enough when he spoke the feeling happened across the palm of your hand again. 

You shook your head as you stood up “Son of a bitch” “What?” he asked and you shoved his shoulder “I'm doing all the work and it kicked the first time for your frickin voice!” a broad smile split his face “I’m going to want to feel that when we have time later, you know that don’t you?” another little jitter across your stomach happened and you laughed “Don’t think that will be an issue” then nodded to Hank “Can I at least drive this time?” he shrugged “Sure, why not?”

You stood outside the interrogation room, watching Hank and Hailey manipulate the guy into a corner and he stumbled over his own words. “Got ya asshole” you whispered as Hank slapped the table “You killed your wife and I’m gonna see fit you die in prison for it”

You heard footsteps and didn’t have to turn to recognize them “Come to gloat our kid already likes you more?” you asked and Jay laughed behind you “No, I was just coming to make sure you didn’t need anything to eat. We all missed lunch” a little shiver happened across your stomach at his words and you laughed “That’s gonna be a hazard if you’re ever around when I’m trying to sleep” 

He laughed as he stepped up next to you. You could see the way he kept looking at your stomach so you grabbed his hand and placed it near where you’d last felt movement “Say something” “I’ll try to make sure to not interfere in your sleep” a moment passed then you felt the jitter across your stomach under the heat of his palm about the same time his eyes lit up “I felt it” you nodded “I know, I felt it from inside. Boy or girl, they’re strong” he laughed lightly “Gonna be kickin ass in the nursery? Boxing the other babies?” The jitter happened again, more forceful this time and a genuine smile split his face. “There’s really a baby in there…like I mean I knew..I saw the ultrasounds and all but feeling it…” “Is an entirely different feeling?” you finished for him and he nodded “Makes it more real somehow. Like there’s gonna be an actual human being looking at us to take care of it” you laughed “We can handle it Halstead” 

You realized you’d been standing there with your hand covering his so you moved your hand which caused him to withdraw his own. “We gotta talk about names after we find out the sex because lil bit Kidd isn’t gonna cut it” he joked and you raised an eyebrow “Kidd?” he motioned towards your stomach “Since we’re not together I figured you’d want them to have your last name”

You shook your head “No, call me old fashioned but I think the baby should have your last name Jay, I mean if that’s ok with you?” “Really?” he asked and you couldn’t quite decipher the look on his face so you nodded “Really” and a softer smile split his face before he laughed “Well lil bit Halstead still isn’t gonna cut it either” “Yeah, you’re right”

—-----------

Hank and Hailey walked out of interrogation and he nodded to Jay “Take him down to holding Halstead” “Yes sir” Jay replied and headed into the room. Hank looked towards you “Kidd, help Upton with the reports will ya?” “Yes sir” you replied, just grateful to have something to do besides twiddle your thumbs.

You had just dozed off when your phone started ringing. You jolted back awake, cursing the loud ringtone you’d chosen as you reached blindly for it on the side table before finally giving up and sitting up fully to be able to find it. You grabbed the phone and saw Jay’s name on the screen. You swiped to answer, one fear settling into your chest when you saw it was two in the morning “Jay”

“He’s not dead or hurt. You just told me to wake you up as a warning next time I heard from him” your hands shook as you swiped them across your face. “Fuck. I forgot” you knew he could hear the way your voice was shaking. “Do you want me to come over? I mean, if you’re shook up. I didn’t mean to scare you” “I’m not making you come out this time of night Jay” you whispered, taking a deep breath to not cry on the phone with him. 

“You know I would, right?” he asked and you smiled “I know. Now what did he say?” he took a deep breath and let it out before saying “They’re headed to their base. They’ll be there by Thursday so he’ll be able to make regular phone calls to check in with others besides his point of contact” “So he’ll call the day before the anatomy scan” you whispered, voice breaking. 

“I can handle it if it’s too much. I’ll take it all on me just tell me what I can do” he offered and you laughed, feeling tears threaten “I don’t know Jay. I’m scared to hear his voice because I know it’ll break me but I can’t not talk to him either. I can’t do that to him or myself” you closed your eyes for a moment then sighed “Talk to me. Tell me anything, talk about anything. Get my mind off of this. Off the gossip, off worrying, off everything” “What gossip?” he asked and you grimaced “Nothing” “Y/N?” “Never mind” 

“No no no. Talk to me or I’m coming over there” he pushed and you sighed “I need promises on your temper. Remember if you lose it that me and the baby will get caught in the cross hairs” “I’m coming over” he said and the phone went dead. You stared at the phone open mouthed. He hung up on you!  He fucking hung up on you!

—-----------

You slipped sweatpants on under the large t-shirt you’d gone to bed in and was sitting on the couch when Jay knocked on the door. You looked out the small window just to be certain before opening it to let him in, glaring at him “You fuckin hung up on me!” he shrugged and walked past you into the apartment “And you have apparently been not telling me some things”

He waited until he heard you lock the door and turned to face you with his arms crossed. “Talk” You shrugged one shoulder “Some uniforms like to give their opinions on shit that doesn’t pertain to them Jay! It’s no big deal and nothing I can’t handle” his face softened slightly “What’d they say?” you shook your head “Nothing that’s important ok?”

He shook his head “It’s bothering you. That much is apparent” you shrugged".I'm also pregnant and coursing with hormones. Adam stepping on a frog bothered me. I promise if it's anything serious I would tell you and let you handle it but it wasn’t worth pulling you or Hank into trivial shit ok?”

The baby started to squirm and you groaned, putting a hand on your stomach “Fuck why did you come over so late” he grinned “Did they hear me?” you nodded, reaching for his hand and putting it where you felt the movements “You woke them up!” he laughed before leaning down to your stomach “Hey um, I know we haven’t met yet but I’m your dad and um your mom is a very pretty but very scary lady who is very good at boxing and may kick my ass if you don’t let her go back to sleep”

You shoved him away from you with a laugh “You’re ridiculous you know that?” he shrugged “But you’re laughing when you sounded like you were going to cry on the phone so I’d say driving across town was worth it just for that” you shook your head “You didn’t have to come over” he put one hand back on your stomach and it felt like the baby moved to reach it “Maybe I wanted to see them, or check on you” you smiled “We’re both ok”

“Wanna talk about Mouse?” he asked, cutting his eyes up at you. You sighed “I know hearing his voice is going to make me break. I fucking love him so much Jay. That man owns a huge piece of my heart” he nodded, fingers tracing patterns on your stomach as you spoke since you hadn’t made him move his hand “I could come over? Try to help you hold it together?” you nodded “Maybe? I just..I don’t want this to be a distraction for him but then the idea of him finishing up his contract and coming home to see a toddler that looks like a mixture of his ex and best friend doesn’t sit right with me either” 

He nodded then stood up to his full height before leaning over to kiss the top of your head “We’ll figure it out. I promise” you nodded slowly, cutting your eyes up to meet his blue ones  “I hope so. I love this baby Jay and I don’t consider it a mistake regardless of how it came about but I don’t know how my heart would recover if something happened to him” he smiled softly “I know you don’t consider the baby a mistake and I really don’t know how I’d feel either if something happened to him especially if it was because of one of my actions. He’s been more than a best friend to me. Greg is strong as hell, so are you. We can all handle this” “What about you?” you asked and he smiled “I’m good as long as you’re ok and the baby is ok” 

“We’re good” you promised so he nodded “In that case, I’ll head home. Call me when you get up and I’ll grab whatever you’re craving on the way in” “I can get my own breakfast” you teased with a laugh and he shrugged “Yeah but you’re growing the baby, least I can do is feed you” “Goodnight Jay” he smiled “Goodnight” before heading towards the door.

When the news finally came down to his unit that they had a date they were heading back to base Mouse damn near threatened to shoot Stevenson to use the phone first. The asshole kept the sat phone where everyone else had barely contacted anyone in the last couple months. The one time he’d managed to get a call out to Jay he’d waited until Stevenson was snoring to grab the phone from where the man was bear hugging it. Everyone was sick of his shit.

Everyone was sick of being out in the field. The lack of real food, lack of actual showers and no personal space whatsoever was enough to drive any man up the fucking wall.  He knew he had no right to be looking forward to hearing your voice but he missed you. God, he missed you with every fiber of his being. Yeah he’d chosen this, he’d wanted this back. He’d chosen to break things off with you because at the time he signed the contract the end date was still up in the air and he couldn’t do that to you. You deserved a chance at being happy even if it wasn’t with him. Christ that thought alone was enough to rip his chest open. 

He loved you more than he ever thought himself capable of loving someone. You were everything he could have ever dreamt of but if he had stayed in Chicago in the headspace he’d been in he was afraid he would’ve pushed you away and you wouldn’t have deserved that either. This way you had the freedom that if you found someone you wanted he’d broken things off with you so maybe you wouldn’t feel guilty, even if that thought was enough to damn near kill him. He truly did want you happy just the idea of another man being capable of doing that instead of him didn’t sit right with him. There was a part of him that wouldn’t turn off that screamed you were supposed to be his and he knew that. He wished there was a way to have both but knew there wasn’t.

Time wouldn’t stand still. If he hadn’t broken up with you, yeah you would’ve been right there waiting the moment he got off the plane but now? He wasn’t sure when or if he’d see you again regardless of what the last email the two of you had shared said. From what Jay said you were doing good, terrorizing Jay and Adam as always and you and Stella were keeping Kelly on his toes. He’d also said Voight had helped you find a place so that was good right? There was something in Jay’s voice the times he’d spoken to him though that wouldn’t quit nagging at him that something was wrong.  

Jay insisted everything was ok so he’d convinced himself maybe it was just because he hadn’t heard your voice in so long. He was due back to base in two days now and would make it a point to call you as soon as he could, hopefully that would soothe that restless part of his soul and ease the worries you’d mentioned in your emails. He didn’t like the idea of you distracted because he knew the cases intelligence caught first hand and they weren’t exactly easy.

He laid back across the tiny cot and covered his face with his arm, trying to summon sleep but instead your face flashed through his mind. He had that polaroid of you and him that Kevin had given him on your last birthday in the top of his helmet. He knew he shouldn’t. That was where you kept your girl, not the girl who's heart you broke but he needed you close. 

He’d made a lot of mistakes and breaking things off with you when you hadn’t wanted it was probably near the top of that list even with the addiction and the truck of stolen blu ray players. 

He turned to his side, the cot creaking from the movement and hoped sleep would come.

“So, you’re gonna go to her place and be there when Mouse calls tonight?” Jay was beginning to regret meeting Will for lunch or at the very least not begging you to come along. You’d always gotten along well with his brother and now that you were carrying Will’s niece or nephew you seemed to always win any argument with the redhead the moment they started.

He pushed his half eaten burger away and motioned to the waitress for his check. “Yeah. She asked me to. She doesn’t want to be alone when he hangs up and she doesn’t have to hold it together anymore” You’d asked him that morning, cornering him in the break room. How the hell was he supposed to say anything but a resounding yes? You were standing in front of him, one hand on your stomach and a small hopeful smile on your face as you looked up at him. 

Will shook his head as the waitress came over and placed both of their checks down. “What’s that look about William?” Jay asked him and he shrugged “Nothing man. I just wonder if you’re dealing with everything you need to or if you’re throwing so much into protecting her and protecting Mouse that you’re not trying to work on yourself any” what the hell did he mean by that? 

He was going to therapy weekly with Dr Charles, attending every appointment you had with Dr Asher and didn’t even go to roll call and threaten every damn uniform until he found out just who had said what that put that look in your eyes when you’d talked about it.  He was doing pretty good by his standards. When he didn’t reply Will raised an eyebrow “How much are you sleeping man?” he shrugged “Three or four hours” and knew what was coming before his brother ever groaned loudly “Have you told Dr Charles?”

Jay closed his eyes for a second because he didn’t want to deal with this. He’d agreed to meet his brother for a burger, that was it. Not a fucking lecture. “Yeah, I mentioned it” “And?” Will pushed so he reached for his wallet before digging out the money to cover the bill “He said something about this thing with Mouse could be triggering my trauma response” 

When he raised his eyes to look at Will again he wished he hadn’t “So it’s a form of what? Survivor’s guilt peeking back up or PTSD flaring?” “I don’t know man! Ok? I don’t fucking know!” he hadn’t meant to snap at his brother, he knew he was just trying to look out for him and he damn sure hadn’t meant to draw the attention of a couple nearby tables. Him and Will both gave a small smile before he lowered his voice and added “When I sleep it’s nightmares. Sometimes it’s flashbacks…things that have actually happened”

“And others?” Will asked and Jay took a deep breath before saying “Others are even worse” Others ranged from you dead, the baby cut out of your womb to Mouse’s funeral because he’d found out and decided to not come home at all. “Have you told her you’re struggling?” Will asked and Jay shook his head quickly “No! And neither are you. She’s pregnant, her first pregnancy at a high stress job and she’s worrying about Mouse on top of people apparently choosing to run their mouth about her anytime they think I’m not around and she refuses to tell me who said it or what was said. I gotta protect her from what I can. She doesn’t need to be worrying her baby’s father is gonna go off the deep end before the baby ever gets here”

Will shook his head “So it’s ok for you to protect her and Mouse, ok for her to protect Mouse but it’s not ok for anyone to protect you? How’s that going to end?” Jay checked his phone and saw a text from you that read Voight got a tip from a C.I. He wants everyone back

He showed Will the text and shrugged “Gotta go man” Will sighed “Let me know how it goes?” “Of course” he replied with a tight smile before jogging out the door to his truck.

You were pacing a solid line on your living floor. While Jay had gone for lunch with Will, Stella had come to the precinct and the two of you had eaten in the breakroom. 

“So Mouse is calling tonight?” she asked, taking a bite of the bbq chicken she’d ordered. You nodded, stabbing at your own food “Yeah. Will be the first time I’ve talked to him on the phone since about five months into him leaving” she was quiet for a moment before asking “So first time you’ve spoken to him on the phone since about a month before you slept with Jay?” 

You nodded again “Can I ask you something Stel? And you not answer as my big sister who would do anything to protect me?” she laid down her fork and crossed her hands in front of her, eyes drilling into yours “What is it babygirl?” You kept your eyes down on your food, not really seeing it but needing the distraction as you asked “Am I a horrible person for getting pregnant by the man I still love’s best friend?” 

You slowly raised your eyes and she was chewing on her bottom lip. “Just speak your mind Sis” you begged and she smiled slightly “No sweetie because no matter the fact that you still Mouse and I don’t doubt the fact that he still loves you the fact does remain that he broke up with you before he left. It’s not like this happened the moment he left Chicago either! He was gone six months! Six months! And I know for a fact a lot of guys asked you out or hit on you in Mollys and you turned down each and every one.

You were in a spot where you felt hopeless and was heartbroken, Jay was in that same spot and you both turned to someone you knew and trusted. Does it mean that will help Mouse’s heart with the facts? No. Does that make you a horrible person? Never.”

—---------

A knock at the door nearly made you jump regardless of the fact that you recognised the knock anywhere. You opened moved to the door and smiled when Jay was standing on the other side of the threshold holding out a blueberry banana smoothie with a bag of chinese food in his other hand “Figured lil bit would be kicking your ass about now since Stella said you didn’t really finish your lunch” 

You rolled your eyes “Will needs to step up his game as uncle. I don’t even get a bullet point but Stella apparently gives you a highlight reel” you moved to let him in and he slid the smoothie into your hand and pressed a kiss to the side of your head “We need to talk about what she said” he added before heading to the kitchen.

You closed the door and turned to face him “What did she say?” he raised an eyebrow “Really? We’re gonna play that game?” you shrugged “Pregnancy brain, I forgot” he shook his head “That you asked if you were a horrible person. I thought you’d tackled this hurdle with Dr Charles” he sat the bag down and started taking the boxes out so you walked over to help him “Jay, you of all people know shit like healing isn’t linear. Just when I think I’m eating the guilt I think about it too hard or I get too comfortable or I like the fact that the baby responds to your voice and another wave of it tries to drown me”

He turned to face you, one hand coming up to push the hair back out of your face as it cupped the side of your head “That’s when it’s my job to jump in and pull you out of that wave” his other hand brushed against your stomach “You didn’t do this alone, you’re not going to do this alone. I know where I stand with you. The comfort level, you liking the baby responding to me..it’s just that. The baby. You want your child to have a good father. That’s normal and I promise I’m going to do everything in my power to give you that but don’t do that to yourself. Don’t worry about what anyone else says. We know where we stand with each other”

—---------

You swallowed hard and opened your mouth to respond but was cut off by your phone ringing. He nodded towards the living room “Go get it.I’ll stay in here to give you some privacy” you felt your heart jump up into your throat and what had to be a backflip from the baby at the same time “Ok” damn your voice sounded small.

You damn near ran to your phone and snatched it up before it could stop ringing. When you swiped the unfamiliar number a moment of static hit your ears then Mouse’s voice “Hey sweetheart” your hand flew to your mouth in an attempt to stop the sob from escaping at the emotions that slammed into you at hearing him. 

You eased down onto the couch and swallowed twice before saying “Hey Greg”  when he laughed you could damn near hear the smile on his face, the way his eyes would light up and how he’d look at you with everything when he spoke to you “I love that you’re one of the only people that ever call me by my actual name” you felt tears start to break free and didn’t try to stop them, instead just focusing on keeping them out of your voice “I only call you Mouse when you piss me off” you teased and he laughed again, the sound making your heart flip and the baby squirmed from how your body was reacting. You put a hand on your stomach in an attempt to soothe the baby because they were currently burrowing into your ribcage and that shit hurt causing you to jump up off the couch.

You must have let out a huff of air because his voice changed from laughter to concern “Hey, are you ok?” you let out a slow breath, rubbing your side in an attempt to urge the baby to move. Jay’s eyes silently tracked your movements, trying to gauge if you needed his help. After a moment the pain passed but you and Jay shared a concerned look, what were you gonna tell Mouse?

 “Um, yeah I hit my side tackling some asshole today. Will said it was ok but I must have turned the wrong way” you closed your eyes, silent tears flowing down your face from lying to him. You hated it but it wasn’t like you could say “Oh no worries honey, the baby that your best friend put in me is doing gymnastics at the moment” his voice softened “Wonder woman thinking she’s invincible again” you laughed lightly “You just wanna see me in the outfit” that pulled another laugh from him “There’s a mental image that will carry with me for months to come..thank you for that Y/N” you wanted to tell him so much, that you missed him and hoped he was safe. That you hoped he’d get an end date soon, that he’d figure out what he wanted to do afterwards, that he’d be happy.

The only thing you managed was “It’s so good just to hear your voice and know you’re ok” you wiped your eyes and turned with your back to Jay. You couldn’t talk to Mouse and be looking at Jay the entire time. Your stomach was already rolling. “You don’t know how good it is to hear your voice” he replied, causing you to focus on your breathing. 

You could hear another man’s voice behind him “Gerwitz, we’re on a time limit first day back. Everybody has someone they wanna call” “C’mon Gore give me a few more minutes” “Mouse dammit, get off the phone and give it to the next in line. You haven’t even hit the showers yet” 

Your heart twisted knowing he hadn’t even bothered going to the showers first when they got back to base, he made a beeline for phones. He called you before showering or eating or even settling. He called you before his own comfort. Checking on you came before his own comfort.

“I gotta go Y/N. I’ll call when I can and try to text if I can get my hand on a phone card. If not I’ll email as I can and maybe even be able to hit a zoom call if we’re lucky but you’ll have to drag Jay into it so I can see his ass too”

You swallowed hard “I will, I promise. Stay safe and keep your promise about seeing me in person again ok? I can’t live the rest of my life without seeing that face again” he chuckled “Oh darlin, they aint got a bad enough war to keep me from breaking that promise. You stay safe too. Bye” “Bye”

—----------

The moment the line went dead you dropped the phone and crumpled back onto the couch, sobs wracking your body. You hadn’t even heard him move but before you knew it Jay was sitting next to you, wrapping both arms around your body “Sweetheart, you gotta calm down. The baby can’t take this” you turned to bury your face in his neck so he pulled you closer, nearly into his lap. “Just breathe baby” he whispered into your hair.

“It’s the lying…I fuckin hate the lying” you spoke against his skin and he nodded “I know sweetheart, I know” you laid your head back down so he started rubbing across your back, trying to soothe you because he didn’t know anything else to do.From the position the two of you were in your stomach was against the side of his and when he felt a weird movement he cut his eyes down at you for confirmation and you nodded “That was a kick” before burrowing further into him. 

You knew you should just eat and go to bed but you couldn’t find the strength to move and Jay was so damn warm against your body. The baby was curled up against the side of your stomach that was closest to Jay. You needed to comfort of someone, you were losing your fucking mind between hormones and guilt and the fuckin mouth running. There were worse places than Jay's arms.

You felt yourself dozing off but didn’t quite register it until a few hours later when you woke up. You were still in the same position, curled up to Jay and he still had his arms loosely around you. You looked around at the clock to see about five hours had passed. You started to uncurl yourself but your limbs didn’t quite want to work with you. You gently tapped Jay,a little worried to startle him but he jolted just slightly before remembering where he was. He smiled gently at you “Are you ok?”

You nodded “I’m ok. I just can’t get up on my own. I think my legs are asleep and I’m really hungry and I gotta pee” he laughed before nodding “Ok then, let’s get you up. While you pee I’ll warm up the food we never ate” you smiled and when he started to stand you stopped him with a hand on his arm. He looked at it then at you so you smiled again “You’re a damn good man Jay Halstead” the smile that split his face was enough to make you hope the baby got his smile “Thank you. Now let’s get you up”

@desimarie12

Part 6

[derekhighwaytf]

Poindextrin

This is something a little different for my nerds out there so bear with me if that's not your thing.

Every woman wants to fuck you and all men want to be you…and also fuck you.  Who can blame them?  After all, you’re Etch, a famous rockstar who can fuck anything he wants! And after yet another adrenaline-rushed concert, you need something to take the load off. Your ears are still ringing with the echoes of screaming fans, your muscles thrumming with a mix of exhaustion and sex appeal. You're sweaty, high on the thrill of it all, and you reach for a pill bottle handed to you by a zealous groupie. Hallucinogens, you think. Just a little added kaleidoscope for the night. The label reads "Poindextrin", but you shrug it off as some quirky branding.

A few minutes pass and although you’re not higher, your voice definitely is.  Midway through a laugh, it squeaks up an octave or two, emerging from your lips high-pitched and nasally. It's like the voice of a caricature of a geek from a corny 80s movie, and you're momentarily shocked, a ripple of unease breaking your post-show high.

But it doesn't end there. You feel a strange lightness spreading through your body, a shrinking sensation that's both alien and deeply uncomfortable. Your tattoos, those symbols of rebellion, dissolve into clear, untouched skin. Your pecs, your arms, the product of hours spent in the gym, deflate as if poked by an invisible needle until they're just skin and bone. Your solid abs flatten out, vanishing as if they were never there.  Instead of a gym-bound rock God, your body has become stick-thin, almost like you’ve never worked out a day in your life.

Looking for assurance that this is just some bad trip, you stare into a nearby mirror, but it doesn’t take long for you to realize what’s happening, especially when you see your wild blonde hair start to recede into your scalp, your rebellious mane getting shorter and shorter until your left with a crisp, sharp #2 buzzcut on the top of your pale white head. The reflection then blurs, your vision wavering, and you fumble around for something to clear it. You’ve always had perfect eyesight, but now you can only see a handful of colors, like a kaleidoscope, but not the type you’d planned to see tonight.  Your hand lands on a pair of glasses with lenses as thick as soda bottles. Sliding them on, you’re taken aback by how large the world appears through these comically oversized glasses.

A glance down reveals a different set of clothes than what you remember putting on. Your stylish, rebelliously worn attire has been replaced with buttoned-up shirts, high waisted pants, a neat bowtie, a plastic pocket protector crammed with pens, suspenders and a pair of the clunkiest loafer shoes known to man. It's as if you've been dropped into a different world, a world where you are not the leading man banging chicks left and right, but instead the side character getting his lunch money stolen and being dunked in the toilet.

Your usually nonchalant demeanor begins to crack, replaced by an alien neuroticism that compels you to straighten your bowtie and adjust your glasses. Your once raucous hotel room seems overly cluttered, dirty. A wave of anxiety hits you, a compulsion to clean and order things taking over.

Then, as if things couldn't get any worse, an uncontrollable urge overcomes you. The panic is momentary, but the shame that follows the realization that you've peed your pants is far more potent. This is something you’ve never experienced, but starts to feel more and more familiar, an embarrassing incontinence problem that’s marred you since you were a teenager. Just another mark against your former coolness.

But the most distressing change comes last. Memories of rocking stages, of endless nights of passion, and the artistry of music start to blur, replaced by memories of a past that isn't yours. You remember being shoved into lockers, the stinging humiliation of public wedgies, the nights spent huddled over a Dungeons & Dragons game instead of getting head from a gaggle of groupies. The word virgin comes to mind, because that’s what you are, a virgin.  A gay virgin who’s never had the confidence to make the first move.  Thinking about such an act makes your acne-ridden cheeks heat up. 

Finally, you recall a name that is not Etch, but instead Ernest.  Ernest Bartholomew Humphries. Your hands shake as you run them through your buzzcut, wondering just how on earth you’d stayed up this late.  You need to get some rest for your new IT job tomorrow, dork.

[gamblersdoll]

PUT MY NAME ON IT, NOW IT DESIGNER 8

cw: mainly fluff, talks of sex, happy ending.

authors note: the grand finale! or what our baby daddy calls it.. “jackpot.” thank you to those who read this little short story of mine, definitely not the last of hakari. thank you, and enjoy.

you never really heard from sinji again. at least you hope not, not ever since hakari blew your back out in front of your now ex boyfriend. and put him in the hospital.

after all of that, it was quiet– peaceful even. no noise, no stress, nothing. not with hakari, which was different. your first shot at dating him was always chaos, either dealing with the fact he was suspended for a good little bit, fighting the staff at school, or other kids. and his minor gambling problem.

but it was different, this time. this time he was sending you roses every day, and the little edible arrangements that you only had to mention once and he was sending them to you every friday. oh, not to mention, dates on every monday and friday.

gojo was like a wingwoman, trying to catch up on boy drama you had or being nosey in general. maki had grown.. decent with hakari, having the mindset of “as long as he treats you right and makes you happy, we’ll be cool.. i guess he aint that bad.” and yuuta just being there.

you were content, at last. you didnt have to be so uptight and tense, you could finally be soft and delicate. thats what hakari did, he subconsciously forced you into your ‘soft girl era’ and you didnt have to worry about a damn thing. because why? hakari would take of it, he would take care of his babydoll.

you sat your head in hakari’s lap only a few minutes ago, staring at the tv as two grown men fight and hakari was leaned back into his couch, chewing on a toothpick in nothing but a wife beater and sweats. his hand on your hip, ever so slightly massaging the fat that endowed the hip bone. he also rubbed his hand up and down your side, sometimes sneaking a glance to your frame and leaning down to kiss your jaw.

he had felt more than warm, feeling like he had won the biggest gamble of the century: you. you were what he wanted, no, needed in his life. someone to tell him when hes at fault, to set him straight when he fucks up, someone he can be comfortable with, everything he needed and wanted, all over again.

his attention was drawn back to the screen, seeing that the fighter he placed a bet on had obviously won, and he chuckled. “that five hundred dollars goes to you, babydoll.” he whispers, taking his hand and entangling them in your hair to scratch your scalp. although he barely had nails, damn could he give good head scratches.

“wha- why me? thats your money..” you had said, still looking at the tv. you didnt think much of it, never arguing with what he said. always just sitting there and looking so pretty for him.

“because i love you.” he had said, feeling the world be lifted off of his shoulders, a weight lifting off his chest and he sucks in a breath. he waits for your response, but you feel butterflies clogging up your chest, and you sit up to look at him.

“you what?” you ask, dumbfounded.

“i love you.” he repeats, looking at you dead in the eye and leaning in close to you, putting his hands on your thighs. “i love you, within everything that i ever had to me.”

it had taken him some years to come around and say that, previously not wanting to say it. why? because he was a dumbass when you first met. now? he was grown, matured. you felt the waterworks start to come, but you shielded your eyes before he could even get the chance. he knew you were such a sucker for sentimental things.

“my babydoll is such a crybaby.” he snickers, dodging at the small hit that you tried to land on him. he chuckled, kissing your cheek and wiping whatever tears you had spilled on your cheeks and kissing them again. “ i love you, babydoll.”

“i love you, too.” you say, bubbled. you chuckled when he snatched you up into his lap, placing pepper kisses all over your face and body as you giggled and laughed.

“lets not repeat the last time we dated, huh?” hakari stated, and you nodded in agreement. he took his left hand and put his pinky up, waiting for you to do it back in return.

you took your left hand and placed your pinky up, interlocking your pinkies together and smiled he kisses your lips, biting on your bottom lip.

“jackpot.” he said to you, his forehead pressed against yours.

“jackpot.”

777

[gracev0609]

Young in the Night

Josh Kiszka X Reader

Journey back in time to 1982, to an Alternate Universe where Josh is at the epicenter of debauchery and excess. Josh is an entertainer at the hottest new thing on the block, Chippendales, the place for women to drool and ogle.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI, Adult Themes, Drug Use (cocaine), Explicit Sex, Unprotected Sex.

Tugging your cropped leather jacket closer to your torso as you wait in line, your skimpy outfit is not doing much to block the chill from the cool evening air. You gazed up at the neon sign through your teased bangs. The summer of 1982 was coming to an end and you were standing in line with your best friend Marie at the hottest thing in the city of Los Angeles for women, Chippendales.

“Do you think the dancers actually kiss the girls?,” Marie asked leaning in.

“That's what I've heard!,” you giggled, silently hoping to receive a kiss yourself.

The line moved up until you were in front of the doorman. Butterflies erupt in your stomach as you stand in front of the door, uncertain in what lies ahead.

“Alright, you're next! Have a good time ladies!”

The heavy door opened and you were met with colorful lights and the hottest music playing, hundreds of seats sitting around a lit stage. Over on one side was a bar, the first sight you were set on. Grabbing Marie's hand you drug her with, eager to get a tequila sunrise on your hands.

You exchanged cash for your cocktails and went to find a seat, surprisingly you found two in the front row, being the second group to be let inside. The seating was filling up fast, from front seats to back.

The club started to fill and the lights got low, Marie gripped onto your forearm,” Oh I think it's starting!”

A man came out onto the stage, black dress pants, suspenders and no shirt,” Good evening ladies! My name is Mark, and I'll be your host tonight! Welcome to Chippendales, you're in for a night of hunky splendor!”

A tall tan man with blonde hair graced the stage, he was dancing around in the smallest shorts you had ever seen, a collared bowtie around his neck, and little cufflinks around his wrists like wrist bands. It was a play on the playboy bunny, but it worked. He shimmied and shaked working the crowd. You laughed as Marie reached out for him, waving a dollar bill around like a flag,” He's so cute!”

You thought he was an attractive man undoubtedly, but he didn't really do it for you.

He wiggled his way over to where the two of you sat, his hips gyrating in Marie's face.

“Hi sweetheart, do you wanna kiss?” He leaned over Marie as she nodded her head and you watched in awe as they locked lips like passionate lovers.

He pulled away and strutted around the stage, Marie looked at you with red rosy cheeks,” Oh my god!”

The crowd was roaring and your ears were practically ringing, the host speaks into the microphone again,” That was the Perfect Man ladies! Let's give him a huge thank you!”

The women around you went wild as you clapped, not quite understanding what they all saw in him. He was just a man, cute, but just a man. You could admit that the energy in the room was electric and you couldn't help but get swept up in the fun of it all. Mostly naked men parading around showing off their bodies and family jewels, it was drool worthy.

You watched a few more of the acts, some of the men had themes and costumes, some of them came out in pants and stripped down to speedos or g strings.

The host grabbed the mic once again,” Alright sweethearts, I present to you, our next act, an angel in disguise, Joshua!”

Out he came strutting the stage like he owned it, he was clad in the tiniest g string he could get away with, the infamous collared bow tie, and a pair of devil horns nestled into his funky curly mullet. You were instantly captivated by the interesting man. You studied his build, he was small, but toned. He looked strong, though not as strong as others you've seen tonight. Most of his skin was on display, the gleam of the stage lights made his oiled skin shine. The more he danced around to the music the more you became enamored with him. The jiggle of his butt as he strutted up to the audience on the other side of the stage forced you to ogle him.

Reaching into your clutch grabbing your dollar bills you leaned into Marie,” I don't know if I've ever seen a man have more ass!”

He swayed his hips, moving to the side of the stage you were at. When he stopped directly in front of you, his barely clothed package inches away from your face, a deep blush rose on your cheeks.

He squatted down so you were face to face, plucking the dollar from your fingers. Your breath caught in your throat as you really saw his face, he had the biggest softest brown eyes, a perfect white smile, and rosy red cheeks. He was slightly sweaty from gyrating around on stage, but that just added to his sex appeal.

Josh bit his lip before releasing it, his bottom lip plump and slick. Purring he crooned,” Hi Angel. D’ya want a kiss?”

You've never wanted a kiss from a man in devil horns more, nodding your head you leaned in and slipped your hands into his curls at the nape of his neck. When his soft pink lips met yours you almost swore you felt a spark of electricity, but that could be the tequila sunrise talking. You felt his tongue lick across your bottom lip, and tingles shot to your core. Easily you opened up for the performer, moaning lightly when his tongue danced with yours.

The kiss kept going on and on. The music kept playing, the girls kept screaming , and Josh kept kissing you. He had your jaw gripped in his hand, and yours traveled down the length of his torso, squeezing his pecs before landing on his hips. The elastic of his g string resting at your fingertips. You kept thinking that now was when he was going to disconnect from you, but if anything he leaned into you more. The kissing went on for so long that Mark the host came back on over the speakers,” Okay Joshua, angel in disguise, your time has ended! Wrap up your act!”

Josh finally ended the kiss,” If ya wanna go home with me, wait for me after the show.”

🎀🎀🎀

The club lights came up and the women started emptying out, the show was over but the bar was still active. You turned to Marie,” I'm gonna go home with him! I'll call you when I get home okay!”

“Okay babe! I'll leave the phone cord plugged in tonight so I hear the call!”

You hugged her goodbye and sat back down in your seat, sipping on a fresh tequila sunrise. It took you a second to recognize the man who had now come to stand in front of you, it was Joshua, but he was wearing clothes now. He had on white sneakers, light wash blue jeans, and a blue short sleeve button up, unbuttoned of course. “Hi Angel. I see you've made up your mind.”

“Hi Joshua. I did make up my mind.”

He grabbed your hand, pulling you to your feet,”Please call me Josh.”

He laces your fingers together and leads you out the front door of the club.

“I don't live far!” He squeezed your hand in his as you walked shoulder to shoulder on the LA sidewalk.

“I really enjoyed the show Josh! Your act especially,” You beamed,” It was my first time at Chippendales!”

He smiles down at you, this time you notice a slight gap between his front teeth,” I'm so glad Angel.”

“My name is Y/N, just so you know.”

One side of his smile quirks up,” Y/N…. I think I prefer Angel for tonight.”

You blushed feeling butterflies in your stomach.

Soon you arrived at his front door, you stood behind him as he fished the keys out of his pocket, unlocking the door.

Feeling your eyes widen in surprise, he must be making a lot of money from the club. His home had beautiful new modern furniture. He led you to his couch before pulling you into his lap. Your skirt rode up your hips and you straddled his thighs, your lips connecting again. Josh wasted no time running his hands up and down your body, his light touches making your nipples harden under your shirt.

Your hands wander his soft torso once against, and he leans in and kisses up your neck nibbling at your ear.

“Want some blow?” Josh cooes breathlessly.

Nerves bubble in your stomach, you've done it before, at a club with Marie.

“Just a bump.”

“Mmhmm.”

Josh lightly nips at the skin of your neck before lifting your shirt off your body, your bare breasts bouncing in his face.

“Heavenly” he breathes, placing your nipple in his hot waiting mouth. Back arching into his touch you moan his name. You grind your hips down into his hard on, making him moan out too.

Panting he disconnected from your chest and leans down, his hand placed on your back supporting your weight as he bends.

He retries a glass tray, blade and a baggie of white powder.

You wiggle your hips in his lap as he prepares your indulgence.

“God I'm so hard. Have you ever had sex on this? It's incredible.”

“I haven't, I've only taken it in the club.”

You hear the metal blade scraping on glass,” Are you sure you just want a bump? You can have more if you want more.”

You turn in his grasp to look at the tray, the tip of his cock brushing against your clit.

“I’ll do a line with you.” You whisper rocking your hips into him.

Josh kisses your cheek before separating the substance into two lines. He picks up the tray, placing it in your hands to hold as he gets the straw. Holding it to his face he leans down and inhales. Lifting his head his eyes flutter closed as his nose scrunches. After a few seconds he opens them, handing you the straw and taking the glass tray so you can partake. Leaning down you mirror his actions, also scrunching your nose at the uncomfortable feeling.

He places the paraphernalia back on the coffee table in front of him, and grabs your hips pulling them down onto his aching cock. Losing your patience you climb off of him and discard the rest of your clothing.

“Eager are we baby?” Josh chuckles following suit and removing his jeans and underwear. Feeling the effects of the blow your jaw drops at the sight of his cock. It's pretty. He's thick and pulsing, the head flushed a deep red. Your slick threatening to drip down your thigh, you place yourself back into his lap. His cock slips in between your wet folds as you grind his head against your clit.

Throwing his head back he moans,” God your pussy's just drenching me.”

After a few more minutes of grinding he's begging you to let him in. You grab him hot in your hand and line him up with your entrance.

‘Go slow Angel, stretch that tight cunt for me.”

The feeling of him in you was indescribable, euphoria tingling within your body. He felt so good. After a few minutes of bouncing he lifted you off of him.

“Wanna switch, put your ass up for me.”

You did as you were told, leaning your forearms down onto his green couch. He shuddered when he ran the tip of his cock through your slick again. You were so turned on you weren't sure if you had ever been so wet, it was all over your thighs.

Softly he nudges his way back in you, his sensitive head nestled against your g spot. His hips drive forward and you yelp at the sensation. Everything is so intense and pleasurable, you weren't sure if you'd ever had sex this good before. With his rhythmic push and pull of his cock against your special spot you felt that familiar feeling bubbling up in your stomach.A man had never made you cum before, especially not with just his cock.

��Josh, I'm getting close. I'm - I'm gonna cum.”

“Cum for me Y/N. Fuck, do I wanna feel it.”

You were in disbelief at how alive this sinful specimen of a man could make you feel.

Your high came crashing down on you as you clenched and fluttered around his cock. You gushed and gushed as he abused your insides.

You could hear grunts of praise as he fucked you through it,” Angel. I'm gonna cum. Are you on the pill baby?”

“Uhhuh!”

“Can I cum inside love?”

“Please Josh, ruin me!”

He gripped your hips even tighter, pounding into your tight heat. You felt him get even harder, swelling inside of you before spurting his warm cum painting your insides.

“Fuck! Fuck I'm still cumming,” he gasps out.

You could feel him throbbing and twitching pumping out small dribbles of cum as his orgasm dwindled.

Once he catches his breath he pulls out gently. You stay still propped up on your arms and knees .

“Just sit down love, we already ruined the upholstery.”

You chuckled, settling back down on the cushions, you laid your head on Josh's shoulder as you came down from all of your highs.

Josh pulls you into his body, eager for some skin to skin contact, “Oh to be young in the night, huh?”

[drachonia]

𝐭 𝐨 𝐧 𝐠 𝐮 𝐞 𝐬 𝐚 𝐧 𝐝 𝐭 𝐞 𝐞 𝐭 𝐡 .

Kinktober Day 19 Nika Schwarz x OC (Sigrid)

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: crane wives slaps. i also tend to associate their songs with angsty fictional men who happen to be twins. 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: @candiedcoffeedrops @candied-boys @natimiles 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: curse play time, sig actually subbing for once, soft dom nika.

“Nika?”

His eyes flickered up with mild interest as he crossed one leg over the other while sitting at the desk in his room, Sigrid staring intently at him with a thoughtful pout. His eyes started to trace the outline of her body out of habit, lazily roaming.

“What do you think of using our powers when we make love?” Muscles stiffened slightly, eyes averted as he tried to shrug it off, “Don’t you already enjoy my company plenty?” He teased, his head somewhere else entirely from the present. Sigrid could see how her partner’s eyes visibly darkened, pushing herself up from the bed where she’d been lounging on her side. She sat down on the arm of Nika’s chair lightly, cupping his face with cool fingers, “Hé, come back to me, darling.” She squeezed his cheeks with soft palms and leaned down to press a kiss to his nose, “I just thought it would be nice to let you do things on your terms with your ability. If you don’t want to, we don’t have to.”

“And what if you end up hating me after?” His voice came out much colder, almost reminiscent of Ring if not for the light scalding to the tone.

“Trés chère, I don’t feel a single shred of hate toward you, you’d need to do much much more than simply squeeze my hand.”

The black swan still looked unconvinced, averting his eyes like a shy boy.

“What if I let you take the lead while we do it?”

“…Mn.”

The bed creaked beneath them as Nika crawled over her, having long-since tossed aside their clothing. His hand tentatively grasped hers, biting his lip discreetly as her fingers laced with his. Her lips gently pecked his, both of them humming in delight as they fell onto the sheets, Nika barely suspending himself above her while lips locked in a sweet embrace.

“Sigrid.” He breathed against her lips, looking down at her, eyes adjusting to the sight of his partner breathing rather heavily from his kisses, but he felt the unusual heat in his hand, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment only to open again and find the same heady gaze fixed up at him. She looked spellbound, a somewhat familiar gaze he’d caught from plenty before…but for some reason with her…he couldn’t get enough of those eyes. He kept watching her as he kissed a trail down her neck and chest as he squeezed their laced fingers tighter, grasping her hand firmly until he kissed down to her hips and stomach.

A loud moan caught his attention as she watched him and gently fisted one hand in the bed while the other squeezed his tightly from the pleasurable sensation of his tongue racing her hip. Her eyes shimmered slightly with a glitter that he usually saw when she would tease him with a gentle rocking on his hips. But now…

“That’s my good girl.” He tested the words on his tongue, cheeks flushed slightly as he rested his cheek against her stomach, looking up at her and watching her cheeks darken as he licked another stripe of saliva over her abdomen, kissing at her skin rather loudly. His lips brushed her flushed inner thighs, hand squeezing one as he kept holding her hand in his, refusing to let go even as she tried to move.

“N-Nika, I feel like my heart’s going to beat out my chest..!” She gasped, looking down at him with her free hand threaded back in her hair, both eyes on display, gold and aqua filled with love to the point he swore he saw hearts in her eyes. His body froze for a moment at the sight, only moving again to shoot on top of her and hungrily devour her lips, only giving her a break to catch her breath when his lips sucked and kissed at her throat, rubbing against her eagerly as he sat them both up, Sigrid in his lap.

“What does my rotkehlchen want?” He hummed, “Tell me what to do, liebling, please.” He rasped, voice lowering an octave as he looked to meet her adoring gaze, “I’m going to go crazy with that look in your eyes if you don’t.”

Sigrid nodded, “I wish you’d just let go and relax with me. You know I won’t break easy, don’t you?” He felt a tug at his heartstrings, welcoming the way it turned his thoughts to her suggestion. Grasping the base of his shaft and pressing it to her folds, he found her pleasantly wet, rubbing the tip slowly against her before pushing in with an upward snap of his hips, “Nnh!” His arm wrapped around her as support, gently working his hips up into her with a steady stream of moans, "Nika…N-Nika, more!" his ears rang with her sweet cries. Rarely did Nika see her this open with her words and desires, but, then again, neither did he. Nails dug into her back and the softness of her side, his breathing uneven as he pumped his hips with the same rush of adrenaline he got from doing something dangerous. Nothing could match this newly discovered feeling.

“Nika! Mnn, Nika!” He listened to his lover singing sweetly in his ear, calling his name out like a chant or a mantra. He could get drunk on this feeling.

“Tell me what you want, tell me what to do.” He panted through his thrusts up into her, locking eyes with Sigrid as he watched the way she was bouncing with every move he made. For the first time since meeting her she felt…delicate.

“I wish you’d cum in me, until there’s nothing left to let out.”

Oh.

Any restraint Nika had prior snapped as his eyes darkened, mouth set into a firm line as he pinned her to the bed, shoving her thighs up to her stomach and kissing along her calf and ankle slowly as he held her gaze. Once he had given her proper attention, he resumed his rough pace from when she was on his lap.

“Then you’re cumming before me. Now ” He purred, reaching and interlocking her fingers tightly with his as he kissed along her skin as it tingled and prickled with his curse, strings of moans flowing out of her.

Nika watched her mewl, moan, and cry his name as her eyes grew wet with tears of pleasure, toes curling against her soles as he drilled his hips into her roughly enough to force her thighs to stay suspended while he filled her with every inch of him.

He heard Sigrid’s sweet cry of pleasure as her walls tightened around him like a vice. The sensation made his cyan eyes roll back into his skull for a moment, breathing heavily as he managed a couple more thrusts before giving one last slam into her, stuffing her as full as she’d asked.

“Please stay like that, I don’t want you to leave yet.”

He stiffened for a moment before relaxing in her arms as she squeezed his head against her chest.

“My darling rotkehlchen…I adore you.” he hummed as he nuzzled her neck, running the tip of his nose along her soft skin with kisses lightly trailing behind.

Maybe he didn’t hate playing with their curses as much as he’d thought.

[lacrymatoryao3]

Bloedzuiger

Dutch Van der Linde/GN!Reader

Dutch Van der Linde is a vampire who crashes your family's party and targets you as his next victim.

#### 1,715 Words (AO3 Link)

You weren’t in the habit letting strangers into your home. You knew the risks of that from living in such a violent town full of cowboys, miners, and outlaws in equal measure. But on that evening your family was hosting a party. So when a knock came from the front door, you thought nothing of it. The man who stood in front of you looked familiar enough to you. Perhaps a distant relative you only saw one or twice in your life, or someone who lived in the area that your family was cordial with.

He introduced himself as a Mr. ‘Dutch’ Van der Linde. He took your hand in his with two gold rings on his fingers. On his pinky a circular one with the face of a lion that had two small rubies for eyes. On his middle was a larger rectangular signet ring with a gold D in black enamel in a Gothic font. He pressed his thin and abnormally cool lips to your top palm. His facial hair tickled your flesh, a black and well groomed mustache and an unshaven patch just above his chin.

He gave an odd energy. It was alluring, yet your deepest instincts shivered. Despite it, you were drawn to him. He was an older gentleman, but not elderly. Somewhere in his 40s, if you had to guess. He was quite tall and slender, but something told you he held incredible strength if the circumstances called for it.. His black hair was long, swept behind his ears and reached down to his neck. It was mostly straight, except with thick and loose curls at the ends. His almond shaped and wide set eyes were also dark. In the mixture of night outside and the kerosene fed lighting inside, they almost glowed like amber. Even stranger, they were piercing. As he gazed at you, it felt like he was reading your very thoughts and it only further fascinated you. It kept you looking upon his angular face, with high cheekbones that had a noticeable mole on the right one and a large well shaped nose.

His fine clothing was also dark. He had on a black velvet, wide lapel frock coat that made his figure striking. The lining of it a deep red silk, in the pocket was a well folded handkerchief that corresponded with it. His vest was also velvet and red, with gold buttons and a matching single watch chain suspended from one of them. His pants were black, the usual cut that men wore though a bit tighter than what was normal, covering his black leather boots.

It was only a brief moment that felt like hours. You welcomed him in. When he stepped over the threshold you felt and icy breeze. You led him into the large parlor where everyone else was. You offered him a drink, but he refused. He excused himself by explaining he doesn’t partake in alcohol. He wasn’t much interested in the table of canapes either, but he did help himself to a cigar.

You excused yourself to allow Dutch to mingle with the other guests. It was difficult to do so, like something had possessed you to desire to only want his attention in return for yours. You didn’t stray far. As he wandered around and chatted, you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. You weren’t the only one, except in the eyes of your families and partygoers there was a glimmer of deep unease when they were near him.

It was a short time later he returned to you. He found you sitting quietly in the corner with a glass of wine. His warm smile and gentle gaze intoxicated you more than spirit you were sipping ever could. He leaned over you playfully, the shadow of his form enveloped you and made you dizzy. His voice was more stimulating than the music playing over the phonograph.

Dutch extended his hand to you, “Would you care to dance with me?”

“Of course!” You replied, exhilarated by the offer.

Standing up, the both of you went to an empty spot in the room. He quickly swept you close to him, resting one hand on your lower back and taking one of your hands into his ringed one. Like his lips, they were abnormally cold. His firm hold that made your heart race, to the point you couldn’t feel his at all. It was as if he took control of your body as you twirled almost inhumanly around the floor. The people around side eyed the two of you nervously, but you didn’t care. Nor did you have any concern when you caught a glimpse of yourself – and only yourself – in a large mirror on the wall. He seemed completely absent.

You spent the rest of the evening in his company until it became late into the night when people began to leave. You felt so high, so alive, it was almost unbearable to think of parting with him. If it had not been scandalous, you would have begged him to stay. As you saw him to the door, it felt like he could sense it.

“Don’t worry,” Dutch said soothingly, “I’m sure we will see each other again.”

You deeply hoped that would be true.

When you crawled into your bed after everything was cleaned up and settled, you couldn’t help but feel a little lonely. What manner of a man, this Dutch Van der Linde, made you long for him so? What about him made you want? To throw away all propriety? To risk your reputation? You felt like you were missing a part of you, withdrawing from the strongest drug.

You turned onto your side, taking one of your pillows and holding onto it. You pretended it was him. Lying beside you, holding you in his arms, speaking all those pretty little things he did during the party. His voice soothing you into sleep.

In between the realm of slumber and wakefulness you started to hear something strange at your window. At first you ignored it, thinking it was a lucid dream. It became more insistent and demanding. It sounded like tapping against the glass. You sat up, trying to figure out what it could be. It wasn’t a tree branch, the elms and oaks weren’t close enough to the house. It persisted until you finally got up to investigate. You pulled the curtains back, flooding yourself and the room in bright moonlight. You lifted the lower pane of you window and stuck your head out. You couldn’t see anything when you looked around, except a blanket of mist on the lawn.

It moved with an intelligence you had never seen, one that hypnotized you. It crawled along the grass and up the outer wall of the house. It poured through the window and surrounded you in a cold embrace you welcomed. It felt like someone was taking hold of your shoulders, gently but firmly guiding you backward to your bed.

You sat down and laid back obediently. In the mist, there were little flecks of dust. They whirled around in front of you, taking on a human shape as they danced quicker and gathered together. At first he was just a phantom, then materialized was the man who had become the object of your desire. It didn’t disturb your sense of soothing calm. You just stared at him with half closed eyes.

Dutch was sitting at the edge of your bed hovering over you. He looked just the same was earlier, except his eyes glowed more intensely and he changed his clothes to a brocaded black vest with a red back panel. The watch chain suspended from the button had a red gem suspended from it. He caressed your cheek with his fingertips. They then trailed down your face to the left side of your neck. The sensation was overwhelming, pleasurable and repulsive at the same time. You gasped, your head tilting over to give him better access to the delicate flesh. He leaned in closer until you could feel his breath on your skin, causing it to tickle in an unfamiliar way.

“Yes, yes, just relax…” Dutch whispered in your ear, opening the collar of your nightclothes and pulling it away from your body, “Don’t you worry. I only take what I need.”

His tongue darted out of his mouth. He pressed it against your shoulder and slowly dragged it along where your jugular vein was hidden beneath the surface. He stopped halfway when he found a particularly sensitive spot that made you groan under the pressure. He let out a low chuckle.

You could only pant when his lips latched onto that area of your neck, then the tips of two sharp eye teeth. Then you felt them pierce you. Your eyes widened as an unbearable and stinging pain tore through your body. It slowly dissipated, being replaced by a tranquillizingly warm numbness. You felt a hot wetness from the wounds he created, which he sucked and licked up with satisfied sighs.

He was drawing large amounts of blood, at least from your point of view. Even if you wanted to stop him, you couldn’t. The moment he bit you he controlled you. He owned you. He now knew every little thing about you. Your hopes, your fears. Your thoughts and desires. Your personality was bared before him as he drank.

Time seemed to slow. It felt like the entire night went by in your stupor, until he finally had his fill. He closed the wounds and lifted his head. You finally saw the face of a human man, a mask hiding the creature underneath. You could see the stains of your blood on his lips.

“You are a delight.” Dutch said, “I will make a visit to you again.”

He kissed your forehead and stood, leaving out of the window from where he came. You closed your heavy eyes. Weak and light headed, you fell into a deep and dreamless unconsciousness.

In the morning at breakfast your family noticed your paleness and how frail you seemed. They wanted to call for a doctor, which you refused. You would become strong again in time. When you did, you hoped Dutch would keep his promise.

[redfish-blu]

Historically accurate (enough) Ben Tallmadge be upon ye.

Explanation and history spiel under the cut <3

TURN did better than most period pieces with costuming so I didn’t really have to change that much (flowers for Donna Zakowska), but my own historical costuming brain was like But What If I Did?? Now I obviously took some liberties here for the sake of clarity and The Rule of Cool, but I’ll explain them when we cross the bridge. I’m also not a historical fashion expert. My end goal for this was to integrate real life concepts into the stylized depictions of the TV show.

Until around 1780, the Continental Army was notably impoverished, and had no standard uniform (and arguably it never would). Soldiers and militiamen simply wore their civilian clothes, and high-ranking officers wore repurposed uniforms from other conflicts if they had them. But for the most part, it was hard to distinguish the average private from a commissioned service member. To differentiate ranks, color-coded sashes and cockades were worn around the body and pinned to the hat. These would indicate to everyone who held which title with no uniform to go off of.

Season 1 Costume:

Some background: 1776 is widely agreed upon as the terrible horrible no good very bad year for the continental army. They were beat down and penniless. If the Americans were to ever loose the AWI, 1776 would have been the year it happened. Washington was pulling the army up by their threadbare bootstraps. The monumental loss of New York to the Brits and subsequent fleeing of the continental army to Connecticut was the main sore spot here, and in that chaos is where TURN season 1 starts.

Ben Tallmadge in TURN is a major and and Aid De Camp (he might not be officially named as an ADC but for all intents and purposes he replaced Hamilton for like 2 whole seasons so I gave him the title anyways). Prior to Washington begging congress to order uniforms in 1780, Ben would have been frolicking around in his plain clothes for the majority of the war. Men’s plain clothes of this era included the linen shirt, waistcoat, cravat, coat, breeches, stockings, buckled shoes, and a hat.

The reason cockades were chosen to denote rank is because wearing a hat in public was actually considered common decency. It was improper (or at the very least lacking manners) to not wear one out. Every man would be wearing a hat, thus they would always have their chosen cockade on display. Ben wears a red one, which signals that he is a major. In the show the hat custom is forgone in favor of actually being able to see the actors’ faces (and their amazing hair), which is totally understandable. I’ve restored Ben’s hat in my design, though.

Another thing I have added is a pair of spatterdashes, which are cloth sock things that buckle over one’s shoes and shins to keep the mud and gunk from ruining the stockings and soaking down into your shoes. Ben spends most of his time outside, and has no issued pair of boots (which weren’t really the most efficient or comfortable form of footwear at the time anyways) on account of the No Money thing, so he wears his spatterdashes to make his poor buckled shoes last longer.

In reality, Ben would have been wearing this utterly dazzling outfit until the end of season 3. However, I’ve decided to suspend the historical record and let him have a Season 2 glow-up into the blue-coated major we all know and love.

Season 2 Costume:

So after 1780 (or I guess 1777 in this case), Congress decided to fund Washington’s request for regimental uniforms across the continental army. Not everyone was wearing a blue and white coat, but Ben Tallmadge was. Turn’s portrayal of the iconic garment has the top of the coat unbuttoned to make it look less goofy, which I’ve kept here because I agree with the change. His coat is also fairly loose-fitting, which is another thing I kept because it gives the boyish yet elegant look befitting of an inexperienced yet determined continental major. Tallmadge would have only been nineteen/twenty years old at this time (the average age in the American army was sixteen), so highlighting his youth was a good decision on TURN’s part.

Buff/white (more like off-white) waistcoats and breeches were another standard item worn by all soldiers and ranking officers (circumstances permitting).

The green sash indicates his Aid De Camp status, which I didn’t include in the S1 look because it would have looked extremely strange. These may have been out of fashion by the time uniforms were introduced, but we see Washington wearing his own blue sash throughout the entire series, and Ben is the king of idolizing that man (and boasting that Washington considers him important), so I have him wearing it.

His red cockade is gone, instead the gold insignias mounted on his shoulders (these were introduced by John Hancock in 1779) tell his rank as a major. In place of a red cockade is a black and white one, which became the standard throughout all the ranks. He could have worn a cockade designed specifically for majors and ADC’s, but I haven’t seen any evidence of these being used save for hearsay and they elevate the look from foppish to full on decorative ice cream, so I excluded them.

Now down to the boots. I swiped these directly off of George Washington’s uniform, which they have displayed at the Smithsonian. It’s more likely Ben would have still been wearing that trusty spatterdashes+buckled shoes combo (this was the standard of the British forces at the time), but to honor The Rule of Cool I let him have those genre defining boots. He does see more combat on horseback as the series progresses, so the boots aren’t entirely inappropriate.

Conclusion:

Despite my obvious passion for this topic, I understand why TURN made the costuming choices it did. Having the continental army just be a group of Random Guys would have been confusing to the average viewer who does not know all this trivial nonsense. And to their credit, TURN actually did dress the nameless extras pretty appropriately throughout the whole series. I just think that showing the continentals in their true “rag-tag volunteer army in need of a shower” form, then have them progress visually throughout the show would have been a brave and effective storytelling choice. It would have been a bit ahead of its time, but now that it’s been ten years I don’t think the creators would care about me dogging on them.