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aconflagrationofmyown · 11 months

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Summary: an episode taking place after “Three Way Script”

Warnings: talks of still born children, suggestions of threesomes, consensual infidelity and polyamory

Notes: gosh I’ve been off here so long and yet I’m still clogged with love notes! How’d i get so lucky? This fandom truly is the sweetest, most gushing and loving imaginable and each of you are dear to me and I miss you all. Europe has seemed to swallow me as I’m over for another month I had not anticipated. That’s ok. It’s that’s great in fact but I’m whooped and tired and missing the chance to make believe with y’all. Here’s a little resurgence in that, thanks for your patience and please, please, please keep spamming me all you want in my inbox and dms as I adore it and it helps me feel included even as I’m a little preoccupied with work right now. Xoxo🌹

Cautions: this was written and not edited a bit, wahooo

Anne’s The Name

Ann-Margret was rather used to being ambushed outside her dressing room by the occasional stray autograph seeker, an entitled producer or five anticipating more, or co-stars looking for a drink after shooting to wind down the chemistry of the day.

As of yet, she’d never been met by a wife.

But there she was, Elaine. Never having met her before didn’t afford Ann even a split second of ignorance. She knew who she was. Mrs. Presley was unmistakable, even when playing at being inconspicuous. Leaning against the stage wall in a somehow more provocatively natural stance than even her husband could manage, those long legs freshly tanned against a pink shift skirt and the elegant length of her -she was slimmer than the papers showed her, what with this baby making hiatus- topped off by chocolate curls getting whipped around her like the studio’s wind tunnel was a paid employee. More deadly still was when the opened door attracted her attention and that pretty pearl adorned neck turned to face Ann, that stunner of a face entirely full of curiosity and maybe…mischief?

Ann was too startled to be certain.

Startled by her sudden appearance, startled by the prettiness of her, startled by the lack of venom anywhere to be found on that compelling face, the lips of which were quirking up in a undeniable smirk of teasing enjoyment. She was enjoying Ann’s dumbfounded, half cocked, partway out the door, frozen in place shock. Somehow this was neither the self sacrificing Saint not irate Madonna that Ann anticipated maybe one day being confronted by.

Instead she was being warmly appraised by heavily fringed eyes that glimmered gold in the late day’s sun. Like her merits for lover or playmate were being gauged. Ann wondered if the rumors were true, if Elvis had really taken a lump of clay and fashioned himself a wife in his own image, more identical and fitting than any rib shaped lady could aspire. That sense of danger and intrigue and knowing that had filled her on meeting Elvis came flooding over Ann again, unable to do more than curiously inspect Elaine as she turns towards her.

“Thumper?” Elaine’s voice is as soft and hopeful as it was coming across the telephone receiver weeks ago, “You are Ann, I believe?” she presses when Ann’s manner can’t play catch up with her overwhelming emotions and she remains frozen, halfway out her open door.

“Ela- Mrs. Presley!” she corrects, wincing at the fumble, utterly unsure now that she’s not being met with open hostility.

“I didn’t mean to startle you!” Elaine straightens up from the wall and click clacks over in her heels to stand opposite Ann, just an arms reach removed from each other and Ann thinks of what a pretty scene they’d make if this were scripted, one red and one brown, a flavor for each taste, matching in height and complimentary in build, facing off in a tunnel. “It’s just I managed to give Esposita the slip and E’s gonna be busy with the studio dubbing and I’m no use at all. I thought I’d wrestle up a friend while I was free.” Elaine’s beaming smile dims the longer Ann stalls for time and etiquette, “Or-or if you’re not free, I understand, I at least wanted to say hello. I’m going to be in the city for a little while and didn’t want to be bumping along into you some day without having sought you out.”

Ann wondered if Elvis asked her to come, if Ann and her inventive ways to have sex without having sex wasn’t quite cutting it and he had caved and called the wife. Or if Elaine had heard Ann’s voice over the telephone and gathered from the whole sleepwalking debacle that it was high time to reel him and his affairs in. Or maybe the colonel had seen the papers, Heda Hopper’s column in particular stating that Elvis was taking a shine to his red headed mirror, and sent the wife down for damage control. The only thing is, Ann was sure that the Colonel was thick as thieves with Hedda, much to Elaine’s distress no doubt, and he loved every bit of publicity that Elvis’ wayward eyes could drum up.

Family men didn’t sell, after all. Ann had certainly played her part in his playboy reconstruction with convincing aplomb.

“Sweetie, are you alright?” Elaine’s voice cuts through the fog of Ann’s concerns and suddenly she’s able to find her voice as she starts to tip over,

“No, I-I’m a little dizzy.” Ann admits, just as Elaine’s arms and a wall barely manage to keep her from face planting on the cement.

-I’m a little dizzy and I love your husband and you’re here to distract him and I’m awful aren't I?! but I couldn’t help it, if you love him as much as you say you’ll understand I couldn’t help it, I can’t help loving him-

“Woah, woah, have you eaten?” Elaine asks solicitously as she keeps Ann standing upright against the wall by an iron grip around her waist and under her arm. Anne winces at what she knows is the tacky feel of her sticky underarm pit cradled by Elaine Presley’s perfectly manicured hand. Why did she have to wear a yellow shift dress today of all days? She can feel Elaine’s fingers rubbing at the tassel on the waist, soothing her the same way Elvis does. By touch, gentle in a way that belies the ease with which she holds her upright. The woman is terribly strong for looking so delicate and there’s suddenly a great deal of logic to Elvis’ starry eyed submissiveness regarding his doll faced wife -Elaine is imposing when she gets her hands on you.

Embarrassment floods Ann next, blushing hot and dewy at being caught so weak in front of a woman the world would say she’s wronged. Heat replaces the cold and clammy dizziness of before and she struggles upright against the wall, getting her feet to work for her, stamping the heels a little to get a strong footing. Elaine doesn't budge in her grip on her, still looking concerned and gentle -god, she’s as comfortable with closeness as he is.

“Matter of fact I have neglected eating.” Ann chuckles weakly, puffing at the hair that’s fallen over her forehead and into her eyes, Elaine swipes it away when the directed huff proves ineffective against hairspray laden locks. “It’s been so hot and -and we had a dance scene, kept having to repeat it and -and so many takes. I got a little nauseous from the heat. I forgot to have lunch.”

“You’re probably dehydrated, poor thing.” Elaine tsks, “Makes folks sick and then they don’t want what they actually need. Happens to the kids on the beach all the time, it’s like bargaining with Castro trying to get Jesse out of the ocean to hydrate.” Ann finds herself chuckling at the mental image of this familial anecdote before she realizes she is chuckling at stories about Elvis’ kids. Should she say her condolences for Joe now? Should she even admit she knows as much as she does? “We should get some meat in you. Water, too.” Elaine decides her course for her, “Do you wanna go back in there to rest for a minute?” she points at the dressing room Ann just exited, “Or we can make a dash for my car and find ourselves a bite?”

What either of these options unspokenly state is that Ann will be spending her evening with Elaine, one way or another. If she’s gonna get throttled for being an adulteress she'd rather it be in a drive-in-diner and not some stuffy back-lot dressing room.

“I think I can manage the dash.” she answers agreeably because that’s what Elaine seems to illicit in her -agreeableness.

And as she finds herself tugged by the hand across the mostly empty parking lot, Ann wonders where that ornery streak she’s made her fame on has gone to. Maybe it’s the dehydration that has tuckered her out. Maybe it’s how Elaine acts like she’s her mother in a way that not even her own mother could make so charming.

Elaine is going to get her burgers and water and make her head less fuzzy. It’s been such a while since anyone met her needs so eagerly that Ann finds herself giggling as they race across the wavering hot asphalt, their heels echoing like clopping tattletales and Ann thinks it’s such a lark right as she tips over the convertible caddy’s door into the plush leather passenger seat.

The convertible is pink, because Elvis bought it for his wife and didn’t bother to ask her what her favored color would be, it was just understood that Mrs. Presley would like a pink Cadillac.

Ann is positive that’s how it went, she doesn’t even need to ask Elaine for the story as Elaine cranks the engine up while flipping the visor forward to tip out a pair of cat-eye shades in what strikes Ann as a strangely masculine getsure of proficiency. It makes Ann want to fan herself at the subtext of this woman having hung around Elvis Presley long enough to have picked up his impossibly cool mannerisms by osmosis.

That right there is intimacy. That right there is bone of his bone and flesh of his flesh. That’s a wife.

Ann doesn't know what to do with the rush of appreciation she feels towards what ought to be a nemesis as this cool gal who shields her knowing brown eyes behind tortoise rimmed glasses and flicks on the radios right as a crowd of studio workers begins to swamp the strange duo in their flashy ride.

The song choice by the DJ is downright unfortunate. Surrounded as they are by photographing fans and coworkers, there is nothing for them to do after Elaine’s manicured finger flicks the switch and the mournful rockabilly of Runaround Sue blasts as a ironically perfect soundtrack for the missus taking the side chick out for burgers.

Elaine’s gutsy laugh of recognition at the intro wailing “woaaaah woaaaah woaaaah” tells Ann she appreciates the irony just as much but the woman just waves at the crowd and revs the motor in a fake threat of running over a few studio heartthrobs who are draped over her caddy front trying to get a closer shot.

“If I change it now they’ll read into it more.” Elaine remarks to Ann out the side of her unwavering smile and Ann thinks that’s a talent she wants to learn, damned useful looking like you’re grinning while making conversation.

-‘ask any man that she ever knew, he’ll say keep away from a runaround sue, oh yeah, woaaaaaah”-

Elaine’s french tipped fingers thump out a corresponding rhythm on the pink lacquered steering wheel while surveying the mess of attraction they’ve brought down on themselves in the sweltering parking lot before playfully reaching for the wipers and flicking on the spray with bemused cruelty.

It’s strangely attractive, this distanced bemusement of hers and it fills Ann with notions of thanking Elaine for being a little nasty, something she never felt before for another soul. Suddenly those idiots who degrade themselves and get off in it make a little more sense as she watches the young bucks scramble off of Elaine’s shiny hood with soaked shirts and tented trousers.

“Sorry fellas, y’all were lookin’ overheated.” Elaine quips before the rest of the verbal sparring gets lost in the revv of the engine and they’re peeling out of the studio lot in a move that even Elvis would have found satisfyingly risky.

As it is, Ann lays her burning head back on the white leather seat and enjoys the feeling of the wind whipping her hair off her forehead as Elaine speeds them down Las Vegas roads that don’t tolerate a 75 mile an hour pace most times.

-“well I shoulda known it from the very start, that girl would leave me with a broken heart-“

The strip is truly lovely in the daylight and there’s a charm to it when viewed in the blur of a fast car and the veil of chocolate curls whipping around red painted lips.

“Was- that- did- did Robert Redford just wave you through his red light?” Ann splutters in disbelief at a lightning fast interaction at a four way stop that has Elaine’s head swiveling dangerously and a shark-like grin taking over her face.

“I think he did.” she replies with a guilty giggle and Ann wonders when the last time this woman got to be naughty without it being smothered right out of her the next second by a unfathomably possessive husband.

“A real good looking fella in the bright of day.” she ventures.

“He’s very blonde.” Elaine rejoins and Ann can’t help but laugh at that, at her partiality for dark haired men.

“Yes of course, you like yours so black they’re nearly blue.”

Elaine manages to swivel into their parking space in the drive-in diner with easy grace, the same sorta slide and swivel Ann imagines she’d use to scoot her body into a restaurant booth. “You’re forgetting who applies his hair dye.” she says with faux gravity that has Ann faltering for a moment until she sees her smirking, “And Jack’s not darkening up despite everyone’s predictions. I’m only saying that Redford is -“ Elaine doesn’t finish, she just shrugs and pulls the gear to park.

Noticing a star’s ride at first glance, an eager young waitress in her short skirt and rollerblades flys over and Elaine handles her and the order of five cheeseburgers and as many shakes with the same cooing authority she handled Ann with against the wall.

It sends Ann back to fidgeting, even more so when the girl takes off to plug in the order and Elaine turns the full weight of those perfectly lined eyes back at her and flicks up her sun glasses into her hair to study her closer. It lasts long enough that a blush burns Ann’s face and Elaine herself wonders if Elvis enjoys this girl’s charming unawareness of her own appeal.

Seemingly satisfied with her inspection for now, Elaine turns back in her seat and tilts the rear view mirror downwards to inspect the damage the wind did to her curls and upon catching sight of her face mutters,

“That man…” in a resigned drawl while dabbing away at a smudge of red lipstick out of her lip lines that could’ve only come about by a rather impassioned smooch. Ann figures Redford is not the man in question this time.

It makes Ann feel funny, the thought of having woken up in Elvis’ bed this morning and between then and seeing him again he’s already necked his wife. Necked her thoroughly by the looks of that finger fluffed hair. Anne recalls reading an article in the Whisper about Elaine’s perpetual state of tousled hair and bitten lips, a constant innuendo to what happens to the woman the minute the curtain drops on her picture perfect, wholesome and southern, utterly above reproach little family life. Elaine gets mauled by Elvis Presley, that’s what happens. Elvis who can play the gentleman all he wants during the mating dance but in the act itself promises nothing less than a full, thorough, beastly claiming of his woman.

“Wanna go in?” His wife is asking and it shouldn’t jar Ann as much as it does but she’s so lost in her head that it spooks her all the same and she ends up nodding mindlessly, trying to think about optics and failing to see how this could be anything but tragic for herself. “Alright but use the door handle this time, it’s got one.” Elaine snarks with a pretty little snarl of those red lips and Ann bashfully opens the caddy door properly this time instead of spilling over the side like a tomboy.

She’s still learning how to be what Hollywood wants her to be. Shedding her wholesome girl next door image for a sex kitten verve that hasn’t been entirely unnatural. But it takes a bit of balance as even sex kittens need some glamor, some poise and grace, even as they’re promisingly feral. It’s like tousled curls that hint at obscene amounts of public fuckery without being remotely indecent in itself. She watches Elaine swing open the diner door and wait with charming annoyance at Ann’s preoccupied dawdling. Being billed the “female Elvis” brought about the challenge of having to figure out what Elvis’ appeal even consisted of.

Getting to know the man…intimately…hadn’t made that any clearer. There was a mystique about him that she feared her own shy and frank nature could never manage to do more than a cheap imitation of. Now she was beginning to fear half of his appeal was the promise of his capability that was shown in Elaine Presley’s every move and smirk.

Asking his exquisitely poised and deliciously no-nonsense wife about it didn’t seem a smart move. Recovering from tripping over the curb like an awkward preteen, Ann ducks her head appreciatively for Elaine still holding the damn door open and slips inside the checkered diner.

It was teeth chattering cold in the leather booths after the heat of the ride and both Ann and Elaine found themselves shrinking from settling back into their seats, leaned forward instead with elbows on the table in a cozy pose but no topic of conversation to break the ice as they hovered in such close proximity.

“I thought this would be easier.” Elaine finally let out with a little huff and Ann couldn’t be sure if she was annoyed at her or the situation. “I thought we'd have a lot to talk about.” she explained with a hint of sadness that bewilders Ann. In response to her nonplussed face Elaine went on, “Why, you know…about…lord, our interests! Which as I hear of it consist of many of mine, motorcycles and dancing, my husband of course, and thumb sucking -to name a few.”

Ann inhaled her shake at the mention of that particular sex act, utterly unmoored at the notion he’d told his wife the actual detail. The fact the wife would tell it back.

Elaine was smiling at her coughing fit.

“He’s got such pretty fingers.” she commiserates without pausing in the assault as Ann wheezes

in a vanilla tinged breath, “It’s ingenious really, he said it worked a little too well.”

It had, that’s true, though Ann had never expected Elvis to leave her flat and call his wife up and tell her about how his young costar had cajoled him into rubbing himself to completion as she sucked his thumb in a pantomime of both fallatio and abstinence. Ann had never felt so filthy as she had when she’d watched a married man spew over his knuckles as he hooked his other thumb into her cheek at the same time, leaving her with a knowing smile, happy to keep her revved up and hungry for him for days after until he finally caved and-

“Makes me wanna try it.” Elaine’s voice cuts through the fog and Ann is faced yet again with the fact that this woman seems to wanna chat about her husband's technical infidelity like two girls at a sleepover. She’s still waiting for the seething possessiveness and or vicious cutting down to size.

“Thank you for the flowers, that was -that was much too kind.” Ann gets it out, burdened in a way she hadn’t been before the bizarre need to be liked by Elaine Presley had taken root.

“Thanks for being good to him.” Elaine replies without missing a beat but in so low and earnest a tone it seems to warm the entire diner and the leather feels cozy.

“I’m so sorry about Joe.” Ann blurts with hoarse earnestness because the grief of it is choking her as she watches this woman dazzle and smile her way through a cataclysmic tragedy, the size of which has Elvis Presley himself trying to sleep walk to his death to end the pain of it.

An emotion, something very cold initially and then frighteningly intense, almost a little ugly in its horrifying struggle flits across, then threatens to crumple, Elaine’s poised features and Ann suddenly wishes her tongue had been cut out, she oughta be locked up and never let out in polite society again. She watches helplessly as Elaine’s mouth firms into a hard line even as her eyes grow wide and wild and begin glittering madly with what Ann realizes, almost too late, are unshed tears -and then those perfectly manicured hands fly up to hide a deluge of grief that melts that serene facade.

“I-I’m so sorry, I just -I just had to say it.” Ann hears herself whimpering out condolences and excuses and her hands fumble over the linoleum table top in a helpless gesture as Elaine’s hands are too busy shielding her famous face from the entire diner’s occupants as her shoulders shake in a terrible rhythm that is peculiar to stifled sobbing. “I’m just so horribly sorry for you, for both of you, all of you. And everybody goes on like it didn’t happen but I- I can’t imagine how awful that is, the ignoring of it. I-I didn’t think before I said anything I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Elaine.”

Ann watches as the sobs seem to slow, and then they still, and eventually, this young woman leans forward again and rests her elbows on the table, face still hidden by her hands, one of which boasts that stupendously gaudy wedding band. Realizing there’s one thing she can mend, Ann reaches into her purse and digs out a hanky before pressing it against Elaine’s knuckles in a silent plea for her to use it.

It’s like witchcraft the way her face is entirely composed once those hands drop and the damp and smudged hanky is balled into her dainty fist. She’s looking straight past Ann at her surroundings, clocking her audience and even twisting a little in her seat to make certain no one’s overly enthralled by her lapse in perfection, it’s exhausting watching this haunted look of hunted excellence by, Ann can’t even imagine what it’s like living it. Suddenly Ann’s hands are being gripped and the woman’s fingers are burning hot and clammy and her eyes are boring into her own, seemingly satisfied that they are still anonymous enough for a little show of emotion and Elaine is murmuring in a husky whisper,

“Thank you, Thumper -you see, nobody talks about her. I-I -there’s no one I can talk to…about her.”

The fact that her own husband can’t even manage it but had to find a stranger to spill to instead strikes Ann with a fathomless guilt for taking that from Elaine, but it’s not as if she had elicited it! He came to Ann himself and what he spoke of she couldn't control. Still, actually getting to see the cracks in his wife’s soul from the loneliness of her grief is a different thing entirely and she is moved to make amends.

“You can always talk to me -if it helps.” she whispers and Elaine gives her a wincing smile.

“I don’t think anything will help.” Elaine replies with a moodiness that is both entirely understandable, if a little off putting in just how severe it is. And, forever the barometer of moods, as if sensing Ann’s unease with her glumness, Elaine perks up in a nauseatingly convincing display of cheer. “It’s just -I think that after Mrs. Kennedy lost her baby and all that sadness, the people just don’t have it in them to find much -interest, in the sad parts. They need happiness and, and courage from us.”

Elaine’s biting her lip in a vain attempt to make it stop wobbling and Ann wishes she could smack the American public for insisting these women, one the wife of the President and the other of the King, hold up a perfect little Camelot for them to read about every Sunday. It’s real lives, real lives grieving and straining and trying their best, real infants dying and golden couples struggling to regain intimacy beyond the midnight sobbing cuddle sessions that have taken the place of making love.

No money in the world is worth such a forced display of perfection in the face of such aloneness.

“You should worry about what you need right now.” Ann tells her what she told her husband the other night.

“Ah.” Elaine clicks her tongue doubtfully, “That’s all real well but I dunno what I need. But you -are you what Elvis needs? Hmm?”

Suddenly Ann wants to bolt again, throat tight and heart skipping a beat, “I-I don’t know.”

“How old are ya?” she asks like that is a natural progression in the conversation, as if Elaine is going to be the judge of wether it is beneficial for her husband to 69 his co-star in order to forget about his dead child.

“I’m twenty two.” It feels like a confession under that earnest eyed review.

“Lord.” Elaine bites off the head of a fry and Ann wishes she was a lil soaked potato crisp herself, that bemused meanness simmering to Elaine’s smooth surface again and turning Ann into a hot mess under her nylons. “And do you wanna get married, Miss Margret? You want kids and all that? Or is it the stage life for you?”

“No, I-I’d like kids, and I’d like to marry.” she insists, “Just not now -and not Elvis, of course not Elvis!”

“Well that’s good.” Elaine drawls sardonically, “Cause he’s taken and happy to be so.”

“Yes! Yes he loves you so much.” it’s a sort of masochism for Ann to admit that yet somehow she finds she doesn’t mind it.

“I know.” is all Elaine replies with, utterly unimpressed.

“So,” Ann finds this ordeal unbearable enough she might as well ask what’s been burdening her, “why did you wanna meet with me? Is- is he through with me?” The full scale of her own unease finally surfaces and she realizes she’s got cause to suspect Elaine of more than just being jealous. “Did he send you to do it? To break it off me with me?” she can’t help the way her voice raises in outrage, it may be misplaced but her love is not false and she doesn’t deserve this, he oughta man up and do his own dirty work.

Elaine doesn’t reply for a few beats that have Ann wringing her hands around her sweaty milk shake in suspense, curious as to why the woman doesn't take the easy route and admit it, crow over her -once again the straying husband has returned to her.

“This film has only got a couple of weeks left.” Elaine says instead in so measured a tone it slices Ann to the heart quicker than any boast, “But no, no he hasn’t sent me to do anything. I’m no one’s errand boy.”

“Of course not.” Ann mumbles in apology.

“But he has-“ Elaine’s mouth twists in distress over wording and every delay hurts Ann just a little more from suspense, “-Elvis has recommenced his interest in me.” that’s a positively hilarious way to say he banged his wife and not the side piece this afternoon and Ann hates her for her delicacy, and all the pain and complications it hides, “And the thing of it is, I’ve already noticed a waning of his preoccupation with you and -I’m just an observer. It’s what I do, I watch him and then I act on what he’s gonna do or what he’s gonna want. And, Ann, can I call ya Ann? Ann, I -I think he’s gonna try to move on from ya, when the movie wraps, like he’s moved on from the others.”

Ann bites at her straw and prays her jimmying leg beneath the table isn’t painfully obvious.

“I don’t want that.” Elaine states suddenly and Ann lets go of the poor, abused straw.

“What?”

“You’re not just some other gal, Thumper.” she rolls her eyes -fondly, unless Ann is greatly mistaken. “But I think he’d treat ya like one for me. I do think it’s what he intends to do. It’s -he said as much this afternoon…during.”

Ann’s cheeks flame hot from mortification and anger, but from something else too. An electric shock zapping through her at the unintended imagining of Elvis talking about her while buried inside of Elaine. To be thought of, spoken of, made a part of that dynamic…Ann is going to hell for the way it makes her clench and breath in like a panting racehorse.

“Well that’s all -settled for you, isn’t it.” she can’t help but try her hand at being a little mean herself. It comes out petulant and she winces at the pettiness of it.

“Yes.” Elaine doesn't bother with false remorse over her surety in her husband’s return, “Which means all that’s left is to help sort you.”

“Sort me?“ Ann isn’t above mud wrestling a fellow gal on the diner floor.

“Thumper, darling,” Elaine sighs gently while her eyes stray behind Ann’s head at some gathering fans behind them, “this industry crafts an image for its stars like suits for models. What they’ve got for ya right now sure is flattering, but make no mistake, they’ll be happy to discard you and your new suit whenever it no longer makes folks gossip. I’d like us to last a lot longer than all that.” her eyes focus back on Ann’s and a sad smile lights up her face, “I think we’ve got it in us to.”

“Who’s us?”

Elaine seems to take time to consider that before answering, “The trio of us.”

Ann remains wary, it’s altogether too easy to want her to mean what she can’t possibly have intended. “Us?”

“Yeah, us.” Elaine grins, “Or at least, I think that Thumper and Naughty and Tink could manage something. Even if the adults can’t.”

It’s wicked that smile of hers and awfully persuasive, like she’s figured something out. And maybe she has, that throat closing fear that Ann was a replacement suddenly allayed by the jimmying legged beauty who acts so brave while having the ill luck of having a soulmate in a married man.

Ann’s no replacement for Elaine.

She’s Elvis’ mirror and his double and a fondness blooms in Elaine’s heart for her at that realization, along with a healthy dose of exasperation that always seems to linger when in Elvis’ presence.

“So, will you let me sort you?” she presses the young woman and doesn’t miss the way she swallows hard in the same way Elvis does when Elaine starts bossing.

Interesting.

“Arrange a little something for us that’ll outlast those hooligans at MGM? You gotta think about what you want, Ann, they’ll get ya on the treadmill and never turn the damn thing down when you burn out unless ya make them. I’d have thought you’d have learnt that these past few weeks.”

Ann knows she’s referring to Elvis and his insomnia, his hollow eyed spouting of the newest script and his mechanical jiving while his soul atrophies from grief suppressed. Ann knows there’s a damned dead end at the end of loving him too thoroughly. Too exclusively. But God! -he made her feel important. That’s all a little silly now that she’s looking at his wife with those love kiss abrasions adorning her throat and a diamond weighing down her finger.

Ann wants Elvis. Ann also wants whatever it is Elaine’s got and if she ever wants to really get that, she's gonna have to let Elaine’s husband go and find herself one of her own. “Alright.” she whispers, smudging the linoleum table top with her wrist, “I mean -I would like to remain friends. Very much.”

“We can do better than just that. But it’s a start.” Elaine clicks her tongue in a strangely cocksure way that has Ann melting as she watches as if in slow motion as Elaine’s hand comes up to her face, a manicured finger swiping at the corner of Ann’s lip before bringing the vanilla frosted finger to her own mouth and sucking nonchalantly.

Already sorting her out and Ann complies with rapt attention and a shudder. “I had the good sense to leave Jack behind for this little visit.” she admits cheerily, as if making breezy conversation and Ann realizes the crowd behind her shoulder have moved in closer, “Which means we could have a dinner party, us three, and there’d be no chaperone to set a curfew.”

Mrs. Presley wiggles her eyebrows in a way that suggests they won’t be watching movies late into the night and Ann’s heart threatens to gallop away from her at the thought of it.

Someone from the crowd asks for an autograph.

Preoccupied, Ann accidentally writes “thumper” on the bottom of a fresh Polaroid depicting her and Elaine peeling out of the studio lot.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

I hope y’all enjoyed, after such a long pause I’d be astounded if any of y’all were still invested in this but I swear that while I may not be as prolific in the next few months, my gargantuan plot for this universe and others are still alive in my brain. Love y’all 😘 if you wanna be added to the taglist please comment below

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mythicamagic · 1 year

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Living Deliciously: Yang/Liliana Demon AU oneshot

Summary: A wandering demon happens upon the revered Saint Liliana of Burlone, and becomes infatuated with the idea of bringing about her fall into damnation. Rated E.

Word count: 9,000+

Feel free to read this on Ao3

AN: This fic was heavily inspired by trashiigomi's Yanglili demon AU art, link: here

Please give them a follow: https://twitter.com/trashiigomi?s=20

Warnings: Smut. In keeping with Piofiore, there’s a lot of stuff that could be considered religious blasphemy in this fic, so don’t read if you’re sensitive to that kinda thing. Female Genital Mutilation is also mentioned but no instance of it is performed in this fic.

----

Many deities and angels alike thought themselves ‘above’ mankind. Above the needs and wants of the weak, needy and desperate. In this way, demons were closer to humans than either would care to admit. Demons didn’t bother to assert themselves as ‘above’ humans, for they lurked beneath. Instead of shrinking away from shame in fear of sin, they embraced it. Became it.

As such, Yang had never cared for those who thought themselves too pure and good for the needs of the sullied. Eternity dragged on, and with it came no short amount of humans who were deemed 'holy figures', as if aspiring to be like those polished, unblemished beings in the heavens. Many humans would zealously recite scriptures and the ‘words of God.’

Yang snorted. As if such an indifferent being would bother to speak to them.

Sometimes these self-important humans would speak of sin and devils, trying to guard themselves and their flock against such evils.

Little do they know that the mere thought of me invites me into their good company.

Yang drifted through the Burlone monastery during one endlessly long summer, glancing every so often at the solemn-faced worshippers as sweat clung to their brows. Even holy ground could provide little relief from sweltering heat.

Not one human could see him as he passed by as little more than a whisper of silk brushing their sides, but that suited his needs just fine. He'd heard tell of a juicy rumour and little would dissuade him from exploring the monastery until he found what he sought.

Walking inside the adjoining cathedral, he took in the change in the air, glancing around the wide-open space. Occasional statues of holy figures stood resolute, carved out from stone inside the very walls. Yang slinked behind the shadows of large stone pillars lining the outside of the grand hall and inhaled, rooting through the various minds of people dutifully sitting in prayer. Many were troubled, susceptible to temptation.

He loomed over one young man, clawed fingers curling over the back of the church pew. He'd make for an easy meal. A snack to indulge in before finding his true mark-

A commotion stilled his hand. Annoyed, Yang looked across the great marble hall to where a side door had opened.

About ten nuns were flanking a woman in the centre of their gaggle. Common folk stood from their seats at the pews and hurried over, trying to touch or speak to the woman in white.

Sunlight streaming in through nearby stained glass windows threw the woman in a myriad of colours as she stopped and clasped her hands, bowing her head to pray at the altar. She ignored everything else around her as the nuns kept people at bay.

She was untouchable. In more ways than one.

Golden eyes swept her from head to toe, noting where her gown was plastered to her form due to the heat.

This was the juicy rumour he'd heard about. A Saint, beloved by all. Quiet, unassuming but worshipped for her function as a ‘Key Maiden’- some sort of archaic title the people of Burlone revered.

Yang didn’t care about all that nonsense. He was enraptured for one reason alone:

The woman possessed the purest soul he'd ever seen in all his long years.

Hunger climbed up his throat. Yang wet his lips, mouth feeling dry. A fall of thick blonde hair could be seen beneath her gossamer veil.

Yes, he found the concept of worship a joke. He'd wanted to see this spectacle for himself just to laugh at it and maybe corrupt this 'Saint Liliana' to prove a point. He hadn't anticipated being so...intrigued by her appearance though.

She lifted her head, giving him a glimpse of dulled green eyes. They only livened when flicking up to the window longingly. He wondered what kind of obscene expressions he could draw out of her- if she'd be begging, wild or tearing up from lust with a little coaxing.

His blood pumped faster at the thought. It went unacknowledged by him- but on a baser level, this was no longer a passing fancy. A fever burned in his flesh. He knew great pleasure would be attained in both the pursuit and meal of this woman.

He was going to devour this 'Saint' Liliana, and he would enjoy every fucking minute of it.

----

The easiest thing to do when trying to reach someone untouchable is to go through another. Someone close to her.

Elena Croce seemed to fit this role perfectly. While devoted to the church, she was closer to Liliana than the other sisters in their company. More of a friend than a simpering worshiper.

Yang had also happened to notice her friendly conversations with a young man named Leo inside the cathedral, and felt the simmering longing inside her heart that was so easily exploited.

What a pity it would be for a virginal nun if that innocent crush was taken to new heights.

"Hah- ah- Elena-! M-maybe we shouldn't be doing this-"

"I need you so bad- please!"

Golden eyes looked on with boredom as smoke drifted out from his pipe, leisurely surrounding the couple currently rutting like animals against a stone column. It was late at night; everyone else in the monastery having retired to bed. The more smoke filled their lungs, the more desperate their movements. They seemed blind to their own surroundings, having met in secret within the halls beneath the nun’s dormitories. Yang cut his gaze to the ceiling and pushed off from the column to grasp Leo's damp blonde hair and tug his head back.

"Slow down," he purred silkily in the mortal's ear. "Savour it."

Leo couldn't hear him of course but obeyed the command instinctively all the same. Good. If they were too hasty, things would be over before his little plan could come to fruition.

A gasp reached Yang's hearing. His pointed ear twitched, and he turned to find a pair of wide green eyes staring at the couple in horror.

I have you now.

Yang grinned, immediately able to appear behind the Saint, who was dressed in nothing but her nightgown. He'd deliberately opened the door of her quarters to allow the breathy noises to reach her. Harsh slapping sounds of bodies meeting now overwhelmed the hall.

"It's a depraved sight, isn't it?" he sighed with mock sympathy, leaning in close to her fall of buttery blonde hair while she hid behind the shadows of a column. "You'll find there's a kind of sweet poison to it though. The noises of those engaged in pleasure are almost stimulating. I'd wager you've never seen anything or anyone fuck in your life, little Saint. Do you feel an ache down here?" his tattooed hand slid around her waist to settle beneath her navel. Yang drank in the clean scent at her neck, feeling Liliana's breathing hitch. A fluttering heartbeat picked up like a nervous hummingbird, adrenaline pumping. Yang could feel the change overcoming her, arousal coaxing awake. Even her scent changed. Delicious.

"Is it building, tightening like a knot? Heh, that's only natural. Your walls are clenching around nothing because they seek to be filled. You want what Elena is feeling right now. A nice cock between your legs, pushing inside," fingers crept down between her thighs, claws catching on the material of her thin gown. "Give in to it. Touch yourself and sate the hunger. No one needs to know…" he chuckled, anticipating victory. This hadn't been difficult in the least. How boring.

A cold hand grasped his wrist.

Yang jolted. Saint Liliana twisted in his grip, eyes finding his own in the dark.

"Who are you?" she breathed. "W-what… are you?"

His face became blank with shock. She could see him? Hear him?

Liliana quickly dropped his wrist when the sound of a door opening on the furthermost side of the hallway became apparent. She quickly forgot about him in favour of rushing forward, lowering her voice at the couple.

"Please stop!"

Elena jerked and pushed Leo away slightly. "S-saint Lili?!"

Lili averted her gaze from their state of undress. "You'll be discovered if you continue!"

With that, she hurried down the hallway to intercept the priest that had entered, chatting quietly to him and fabricating a story about misplacing her old prayer book. The priest dutifully offered to look for it, not even arching a brow at the late hour. Elena and Leo took the opportunity to part ways, giving each other one last look before the boy was forced to slip away into the night, adjusting his clothes.

Yang watched the whole thing with a dazed expression. No mortal had ever seen him without permission before. Never. In fact, he was certain it was pretty much unheard of.

The interest he’d been harbouring before tripled, sharpening. His gaze zeroed in on his new prey. He wanted to know how she’d done it. He wanted to pry the woman apart until he understood every fragment and became bored with inspecting her shattered remains.

----

Saint Liliana was soon chaperoned back to her room. She retired for the night with a convincing smile to the priest, and unlike before, Yang was able to enter her chambers. He peeled away from the shadows and stretched out in her bed while her back was turned, delighting in her startled gasp when she finally faced him.

“W-why are you here?!” she put a hand over her heart, fumbling with a rosary and snatching it up as if it might protect her.

“So that wasn’t a fluke, you can still see me,” sharp teeth flashed. “This will prove more entertaining than first imagined.”

His long, thin tail flicked out, whip-like and black with a pointed end resembling a soft arrowhead. No doubt it only served to disturb her, as she couldn’t stop staring at his dark horns that curled out from his skull like a ram.

Liliana inched closer to the door, eyeing it. “Please leave. I will recite the holy words of the bible to drive you out if need be- but I’d rather not resort to that.”

He snorted. “Oh please, anything but that drivel.”

Before she could even blink- they were close- close enough for her to count his eyelashes and glimpse the tattoos on his skin as he brought a clawed hand up. Lili flinched but held still, breath whooshing in and out of her lungs quicker and quicker.

“So you’re Saint Liliana,” black claws skimmed the delicate skin of her jaw in a light scrape. “How was such a title bestowed upon you?”

“I-I’m not quite a Saint yet. I’m still undergoing the selection process,” her knuckles turned milky white from the force of her grip on the rosary.

He arched a brow and tipped his head to one side. If she was trying to dissuade his interest, it wasn’t working. “That so? Everyone already reveres you as one.”

Liliana pressed herself harder against the wall, shrinking away from his touch as much as humanly possible. “I'd like to refocus on the fact that I’m currently conversing with a- a demon, sir. How and why are you here?”

“I go where I please. The house of God is no exception. As for the why…” Yang trailed off, lips pulling back from his teeth to bare them at her in a feral grin “I got curious and decided to see what all the fuss was about. Many demons have been worked up into a frenzy after catching your scent. I figured you had to be something interesting."

She swallowed, pulse jumping when he leaned ever closer, bringing his nose to her hair. "Then your information was poor. I'm perfectly ordinary and I have nothing of note to offer you, Devil spawn."

"Flattery will get you nowhere. You're mistaken though- there's plenty to gain from a woman like you,” Yang inhaled, taking in her fresh flowery scent. Ahh...no good. If he kept inhaling, he'd work up an appetite and ruin her too quickly.

"That's all you are, underneath your veil and fine robes. You're flesh and blood," he purred. "The animal urge to eat and drink is there- so what makes you exempt from pleasures of the flesh?"

"T-that's what you're after? That's the reason you influenced Elena and Leo to act like that way?"

"You think I had something to do with their tryst?" He blinked innocently. "Their passions simply overflowed."

Liliana glared. "I know Elena- she'd never have given up her chastity like that. As for you wanting my- my body…I would rather bite my own tongue off and die than become your whore."

His hand came to rest on her abdomen. He exerted a small amount of pressure, gliding his touch downward and heating his palm. The Saint-in-training wavered, he could see it. She shuddered slightly, registering the pleasure his touch elicited.

"Heh, next time you wish to speak so bravely, make sure you stop trembling first. It dampens the believability of your words,” he chuckled.

Lili stiffened as though broken from a dream. She pushed his tattooed wrist aside, hurrying to her bedroom door. “Sister Sophia!” she shouted, throwing it open. The look she shot him over her shoulder was a touch victorious- hurried footsteps immediately answering her call.

Yang rolled his eyes. “Boring,” he drawled.

By the time Sister Sophia arrived, he was long gone.

-------

He observed her through the windows in confessionals, haunting her footsteps through prayer and following when she wandered outside into the garden.

She had very little in the way of freedom. Every morning she was washed by five attendants, who would also dress and brush her hair, fixing some strands back with beads that clinked noisily together. They constantly shadowed her every move like tittering nannies, not allowing for a moment's peace until the sun sank from the sky and night set in once more. Every fibre of Saint Liliana's day was dedicated to serving others in one way or another; listening to confessions or doing missionary work.

His predatory nature noticed how tired she seemed. Liliana tried hard to keep her modest, calm mask in place. She never complained and accepted everything with an air of gentle grace. Only he picked up on her drained energy and lines etched beneath her eyes.

"You're here again, Asmodeus?"

He found her that night sitting on her stone window-ledge, knees tucked up as she read a book. How sickeningly sweet, he thought. She looked like a lonely princess in a tower.

"Such colourful names you have for me, Saint. Wrong again, though. You won't find my name in any of your clean little books,” he drew closer, exhaling trailing smoke and lowering his pipe. “Call me Yang, if you want. I don't really care."

"What I want is for you to leave me alone."

“Boring. Can’t you say anything else?”

Colour finally blossomed in her cheeks. Good. He preferred that look on her rather than that placid, virginal mask. “I-I’m not here to entertain you!”

“Saint Liliana, is everything alright?”

The knocking outside her door startled them both. Yang wouldn’t claim he’d been paying attention to her but her gaggle of sisters seemed more protective than usual.

“Y-yes, I’m fine- thank you. Please don’t worry,” Lili called, putting her book aside.

Yang arched a brow. She wasn’t chasing him out this time by crying for help? Maybe he’d been right and she was bored out of her skull. “I’ve watched you these past few days and seen how you navigate around the invisible pentacle of your prison,” he drew closer, leaning against the stone wall beside her and leaning down slightly. Red hair spilt off his shoulders to hang between them like a bloody curtain. “You yearn for more- I can smell it on you.”

Lili searched his gaze, bewildered. There was something underneath it though, something she didn’t care to admit to. She stood, as if seeking to brush him off again. “I shouldn’t even be speaking with you. I know demons to be as unkind as a plague on the people,” green eyes narrowed. “Make your offer, demon.”

Yang watched her in silence, tilting his head.

She gestured to the world laying outside her window. “You’re going to offer me escape if I surrender my flesh to you, is that it? W-well it’s not going to happen,” Lili said firmly. “I’ve been raised for this my whole life. I’ve committed the decorum of a living Saint to memory. Above all else- my chastity is paramount. Why would I give you the one thing that Sainthood requires?”

He wrapped smirking lips around the edge of his kiseru, taking a languid drag. “Perhaps because you don’t truly want it?”

“That’s ridiculous.”

The demon drifted closer but Lili seemed determined to keep her distance, inching back whenever he advanced. “Is it? I wouldn’t be able to speak with you right now if you’d closed your heart to temptation. It’s still there, isn't it?” he crooned, exhaling a mist of smoky, spicy air. “The image of your friend and Leo squirming, clawing at each other like beasts. You dreamed of it last night and you’ll dream of it again.”

It was all too easy to appear closer- shoving her down on her bed and pinning the Saint beneath him. Clawed hands anchored flailing wrists to the sheets, his thin leathery tail wrapping around her thigh and spreading it slightly, allowing their lower halves to nestle even closer. She felt good beneath him. Just as good as any other woman. Her curves were always hidden by her loose, flowy robes but he could feel every inch of her now, her nightgown positively sinful.

Lili fell still, panting slightly. He could feel her heartbeat hammering.

“And what of you?” she whispered.

Yang blinked, coming back to himself. “Mn?”

Tears collected in her eyes. “You just go around corrupting people for the fun of it?”

“Yes.”

“W-why?”

No one had ever thought to ask before. He found he didn’t have a good answer and lifted his shoulder in a shrug. “It’s entertaining, and I enjoy it.”

The woman was frightened, as she was wise to be- but as ever…Lili proved to be a little strange. She was paying attention, listening to every word and looking him in the eye. It almost encouraged him to keep speaking. Yang couldn’t claim to have felt that way before. Perhaps he just wanted to shock her with how perverse his words could be.

“I enjoy the deep darkness that lurks deep inside everyone- if you just have the patience to peel it back- it’s so very entertaining to witness. I enjoy women and sex, indulging in too much food, and engaging in brutal violence. All of it feels good, so why deny it?”

“Because it’s empty. Pleasure is devoid of meaning if you overindulge.”

How intriguing- she wasn’t dismissing pleasure as outright evil. Yang’s tail flicked lazily, tightening around her thigh. Black horns gleamed in the candlelight as he craned his neck down and pressed his lips to the pulse fluttering in her neck. He felt rather than saw Lili gasp against him.

“You won’t curse me and call my actions inherently wrong?” he muttered.

Lili lay still, gathering her bearings. Pretty nails curled into his powerful hands, willing him to release her despite their difference in strength. “I think earthly pleasures are normal to want, human even. Denying yourself altogether is unrealistic,” she murmured in a soft voice, as if confessing something she wasn’t supposed to. “However, gorging yourself on pleasure simply makes it a frivolous waste. You don’t appreciate any of it.”

Yang fell quiet. He pulled his lips away from her delicate flesh, skimming his nose down the column of her throat. Tiger-like eyes took in her everything. She wasn’t a bad sight to behold- chest softly heaving, cheeks flushed and lips parted enticingly. “I didn’t expect a Saint to speak like that to me…” he admitted.

She was speaking almost realistically. The humour in chatting to zealous religious figures lay in their ridiculously rigid and outlandish worldviews. He supposed he should have suspected something was amiss with her the second she’d shielded Elena and kept her loss of virginity a secret from the rest of the church.

Lili stared up at him, watchful, waiting. Yang felt something inside him stir.

“I thought it was cold- Lili, you should close your window. You’ll catch your death of cold!”

The door swung open and Sister Sophia entered without so much as knocking. She bustled about, not sparring Yang a glance as he straddled Lili upon her bed. His lips tugged downwards. Perhaps he should kill the old wretch.

Lili made a soft noise beneath him, sighing. Only that gentle sound saved Sophia’s life that night.

“It’s hard to believe the selection process is drawing near, and so swiftly too,” Sister Sophia was muttering, reaching up to pull the old window shut. “Soon you’ll become a living Saint- and I won’t be able to chastise you like this anymore.”

Liliana’s gaze became saddened, and she shifted, sitting up. Yang stilled, somewhat taken aback when she walked straight through him to go comfort her minder. He could only watch, reduced to a silent witness and loathing it for the first time.

-----------

“What must you do to become a living Saint?”

Liliana sighed, not bothering to turn her head and acknowledge his presence. She was in the greenhouse today, her minders lingering outside but giving them at least some privacy. She tended to a few of the roses with damaged stems, carefully splinting them with a kindness he could not understand. “I must recite holy scriptures. After that, my body will be bathed and examined for imperfections- and I will be locked within a holy tomb for three days and nights without food and minimal water. Lastly, I must successfully select the previous Key Maiden’s belongings out of a cluster of objects. If that happens, I will be cleansed of impurities…” her voice wavered before she soldiered on. “I’ll be modified and placed in the holy tower to live out my days in solitude, with the exception being Sundays; when I will hear out the prayers of believers. It will be forbidden for me to ever speak again.”

“Hell on earth,” Yang gave a wry snort, wrapping his claws around a stem to gently stroke the petals. Lili straightened to watch as a black tipped talon curved down, threatening to split the soft, yielding flora with the slightest pressure. He did not mar it however; stroking the bud lightly. Her eyes lingered longer than they should have.

“What do you mean by modified?”

Broken from her trance, Lili looked up and met his curious gaze. She swallowed, a heaviness seeming to settle on her shoulders. “My body will be altered to ensure I cannot bear children or have intercourse.”

“I see. So you’ll be mutilated,” he leaned back against the windows of the stuffy greenhouse, staring at the caged plants and flowers before them. Humans were so bizarre. “That doesn’t bother you?”

He could see it. Her own words quietly disturbed her. This was it. This was the thing he’d been biding his time waiting for. A chink in her armour.

Lili bowed her head. “I was raised at a humble church alongside other orphans before I was put forward for this position. If I drop out of this, another girl would just be selected. If I can spare them that fate…it's better for me to have to go through this than them.”

“Sickening,” he sneered, exposing sharp teeth. The weight of his displeasure seeped into the very air, sucking out the sunlight and replacing it with something cold. “So you’ll martyr yourself for them?”

Lili jolted, the scent of copper catching his nose soon after. Yang was beside her in an instant, crouching- taking her by the wrist and pulling her frozen, bleeding finger away from the thorn and into the hot cavern of his mouth. Lili hesitated, breath stalling.

“Maybe I’ll take you by force,” his eyes captured hers, unwavering. “Have you ever stopped to consider that?”

She searched his face. Whatever she saw had her shaking her head and smiling grimly, which somewhat troubled Yang. “You won’t. For some reason, you want me to agree to it.”

"It would be preferable, if only because it would prove to you that yielding to temptation can be far more rewarding than self-imposed starvation.” Yang pulled his lips away from the wound, instead pressing his clawed thumb against it. Her wince was the only enjoyable thing he’d seen all day. He exerted just a little more pressure. “There’s fun to be had, flavours to be tasted, and a life left to live…yet you content yourself with the bland taste of Sacramental crumbs.”

Slit pupils searched her rounded human ones, seeking, prying for anything- one hiccup, just one to prey upon.

Liliana’s lips thinned, straightening her back.

A complicated mix of frustration and pride welled up inside him at that. She was so difficult. So tired yet quietly resolute. It wet his appetite something awful. His cock stirred, but he couldn't claim the hunger for her to be purely lust.

“I will leave you now, Saint Liliana,” he uttered.

A stab of surprise and alarm entered her gaze. Yang inwardly smirked. Well, well…was that disappointment he sensed?

Make that two enjoyable things he'd seen today. “But not indefinitely. We’ll meet again. On that day, you’ll find pleasure isn’t nearly so agonizing as a pointless life filled with boring silence.”

Lili smiled a brittle smile and touched his wrist as if parting from an old friend. She didn’t hate him despite his jeers, his constant shadowing of her footsteps and late-night torments. The thought was odd, as was her surreal sense of calm. She’d resigned herself to her fate completely. “I suppose it’s only natural I should see you again. You’re like a personification of my doubts.”

He sneered. “I’m not nearly anything so trivial.”

He captured her chin in hand, running a sharp thumb over her jaw and comparing it to petals. “Pressed flowers last hundreds of years on herbarium sheets, Lili. At a price: the flowers are flattened. Bled dry. Hidden away in a thick volume to sit on a lonely shelf instead of basking in the sunlight where they belong.”

He kept talking lowly, as if willing her to envision his words and succumb to suggestion. His pointed claw skimmed over kissable lips. “Personally, I’ve always preferred the flowers that bloom brightly- even if it's just once- compared with those unnaturally preserved.”

Liliana kept still in his hold. “Are you comparing me with flowers now, Yang? That’s surprisingly romantic of you.”

He blinked, and smiled cruelly. “I could call you the prettiest flower here, Lili- if you’d like.”

“I’m not in the mood to be fooled by you,” she sighed, a strange fondness in her eye. Yang didn’t understand it. He couldn’t understand a lot about this particular human. What he did know: was that it would be a monumental bore if this woman were to be silenced forevermore.

------------

The fateful day of the ceremony finally arrived. Much like the day Lili could remember seeing a demon for the very first time- a stifling humidity choked the air. In this somnolent summer haze, Lili walked through the hushed town of Burlone, head bowed. A procession of key church figures and followers alike stretched out as far as the eye could see, guiding her. A crowd had formed, town bystanders occasionally throwing white flowers at her feet. Lili could sense Elena at her side, and Sister Sophia’s guiding presence at her back. She wasn’t alone. No…she was surrounded by so many people.

Liliana clasped her hands tighter, silently screaming. In that moment, under a sheer veil and the hot merciless sun beating down upon her, blazing the world behind her veil pure stark white- she felt the weight of all who had come before- and all the Key Maidens who would come after. Their ghosts remained with her long after she was shown into the underground tomb, her hands bound behind her back, the stone door pulled back into place, but not before she heard Sister Sophia mutter;

"By the Grace of God, let this child be reborn through this humble taste of martyrdom and guide us once more when she awakens as a living Saint, Amen."

She was then left in complete and utter silence and darkness. No sunlight or food. Only a small amount of water could be heard trickling down from the ceiling. She would have to fall to her knees and drink like an animal to slick any thirst. Lili swallowed thickly and fought not to slump into despair. It was cool within the tomb, not a sound stirring from outside.

Many things passed through her weary mind as she lay in that lonely place meant for the dead. Guilt, for her heart not being fully committed to Sainthood. Fear, worry, and other such things.

One thing Lili didn’t expect to feel was regret. The image of a marked body slinking through the shadows of her room like a stalking tiger prowling through the jungle remained burned into the backs of her eyes. He kept her company during those long, passing hours. She could visualise him so clearly, her Devil. Hear him, smell him-

Lili’s nostrils flared, picking up a hint of spice. She sucked in the scent, coughing when it choked her lungs. Raising herself up groggily from the floor, Lili shifted as best she could considering her bound arms, gasping at the sight before her.

Instead of unrelenting darkness, a warm orange glow commanded the tomb. Red lanterns with golden tassels gently swayed alongside extravagant lace curtains. They parted to reveal what looked like a shrine. Sat upon a gilded chair within that warm, hazy vision, slightly obscured by the lazy trails of smoke from his signature kiseru; Yang awaited her. One leg was slung over the other, his expression more unreadable than ever before, deceptively apathetic.

Lili dragged herself over on her knees, gazing at his decadent splendour.

You came, she thought, torn between relief and frustration. More than anything else- the hunger, the thirst, the lack of sunlight- he was the test she feared most. Her life would’ve been so much easier if he’d never tempted her in the first place.

Yang didn’t say anything for a moment, studying her as she did him. Finally, thin lips parted, removing the pipe from his mouth.

“Isn’t it ironic?” a tattooed hand drew forward. Ignoring her flinch, he bent down and took hold of her chin. “You’re kneeling in front of me as you do for your so-called God," he purred, silky words tinged with a patronising smile. “Why don’t you pray to me too while you’re at it, hm?”

Lili trembled in his hold. "Why are you here?" She breathed. Something in his eyes danced, sending a shot of heat down her spine. “I won’t give in to you. You being here makes no difference.”

Yang closed his lips over the end of his pipe, taking a hearty drag. Lili flinched as he exhaled, sending a flurry of smoke into her face. “The Lord detests lying lips, but he delights in people who are trustworthy’ is that not a quote from your tiresome little book?”

He could likely see her thought process quite clearly. He was the Devil offering food and drink while she fasted. A lantern to guide her in darkness. A body to warm her cold flesh. She’d do everything in her power to resist him.

Perhaps he’d already won the second she’d slipped up that one summer night and allowed the fantasy of his head between her thighs to enter her mind. A sin, a secret she’d carried and confessed to no one, but remained buried in her heart.

Pure they called her. Was she really?

Lili’s gaze wavered, her knees aching from the punishing stone.

Yang clicked his tongue. “Why continue this farce?”

“I told you, it’s so that no one else need do this.”

“You martyr yourself for strangers. What’s more, you don’t seem to understand the triviality of your sacrifice, Liliana.” He released her to study his pipe with an air of boredom. “Haven’t you ever wondered why Key Maidens are demanded so regularly? The last one to be called up was just last year. I had some brats do some snooping for me, you see. The last woman was-”

“Chole,” Lili straightened with a frown. “What does she have to do with this?”

“Everything~ you see, your church employing the grim tradition of genital mutilation can result in…sickness. The wound becomes infected. It happened to your precious Chole.”

Lili sat back on her heels. Disbelief settled over her shoulders. No, it couldn’t be true…

“T-they said she was sick but-”

“It was no common cold. She was killed by the very ones who claimed to worship her," Yang stated without a hint of sympathy. He leaned forward soundlessly from his seat, reaching out to cup her cheek in his palm, petting it gently as if she were a beast he’d tamed. His skin was a shock of warmth against her cool flesh. It cried out for more. His claws felt like smouldering knives hovering inches from her skin. “There is another form of worship you are yet to acquaint yourself with, Liliana,” he purred, fingers sliding into her hair. He curled buttery blonde strands around his knuckles, bringing them to his lips in the mockery of a princely kiss.

“Please…stop,” she begged softly. “Sister Sophia would have told me about Chole. I’m sure- I’m sure it was unrelated.”

Yang’s expression became eerily blank. She got the feeling he was becoming unimpressed. “You know why I’m here,” he said evenly. “Do you expect me to behave like a gentleman?”

“No,” her eyes never wavered despite the need and despair battling inside. “I just- the others…”

He chuckled and sat back in his chair, picking up a goblet and taking a hearty drink. Lili watched, swallowing against the dryness of her mouth. “So if you didn’t have to worry about others becoming Key Maidens as a consequence of you dropping out, you’d accept me inside you?” Yang smiled over the rim of his cup, the golden hue of his eyes dancing. It was a smile of victory. They both knew it. When his hand travelled down her throat, she didn’t resist. “Your soul has grown sick with longing after denying yourself so long. It hungers. It festers...but you’ll never ask me to touch you of your own volition, will you?” He sighed, a grin slowly curling his mouth into a manic smile. “Oh well. I’ll happily take whatever I want either way,” he took another drink, knocking it back.

“Yang-”

Hard lips crashed to hers, muffling the soft murmur of his name. Liquid flooded her mouth, and Lili squeaked with outrage. Firm hands clamped onto her cheeks, preventing escape. She had no choice but to gulp it down, feeling Yang’s tongue push it inside. She ripped her mouth free the moment he let go, coughing.

“There. Was that so terrible?”

“I hate you,” Lili hissed, feeling the alcohol drip down her chin, the rest flowing down to warm her stomach with a pleasant haze.

“You can’t lie to a liar, Liliana. If you’re going to try- do a more convincing job of it,” Yang leaned back, only to draw his knee up- pressing a foot against her stomach. “We can make this as painful or as pleasurable as you wish. What shall it be?”

Liliana glared, chest heaving. It seemed to amuse him to no end.

“I suppose as a martyr, you’ll choose pain every time,” he mused, letting out a sigh and studying the cave ceiling impassively.

Lili closed her eyes briefly. She thought about her people, about Chole, about Sister Sophia and the worshippers. She remembered watching Chole be sealed away in late December when the air chilled their bones- the fear on her face, the resignation. How every moment after, she and the other prospective Key Maidens had walked with misery- until she'd been selected as the next lamb in line for the slaughter. As she remembered these things, Lili came to a very sad, and simple thought.

It would never end. Even if Yang didn't take her body today, it wouldn't make a difference. Someone else would still be chosen as a Key Maiden, years- or maybe even months down the line, if she got sick and died too like Chole.

“Yang,” she said softly, opening her eyes to look at him. Something in them seemed to catch and hold his interest. “I would like to- to offer you a deal.”

“Oh? I’m listening.”

On trembling legs, Lili shifted and pulled herself up, feeling his foot draw away as she stood. “You may have me: in every way you see fit, if you can guarantee the end of the Key Maiden practice.” Yang opened his mouth to reply, but Lili continued swiftly. “Do so in a way that does not kill anyone, and we have a deal.”

His teeth flashed in the lamplight like the glitter of silvery snakeskin. “My, my…I never predicted when I first saw you that Saint Liliana would ask me, a Devil- to essentially end her very religion.”

If it was what she had to do to keep other women safe from the same fate, Lili didn’t mourn the prospect. “I know it won’t solve everything,” she murmured. “I’m not that naïve. Other ways will probably be invented after this to achieve something similar. I just- I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t try.”

Yang gazed at her steadily. His lips parted, eyebrows rising as if surprised. He then grew quiet, and it was the most unnerving silence Lili had ever experienced in his presence.

Suddenly, Lili felt herself being scooped up in something thin and leathery. It swept her up to Yang, dumping her right on his lap- and it was only when it withdrew that Liliana registered it as his tail. Sharp claws were then framing her face, tilting her chin up. Twin pairs of yellow, luminous moons swallowed her whole. If the Key Maiden process would mutilate her body, Lili shuddered to think what those eyes could do to her soul. His nose brushed hers almost affectionately.

“Deal.”

And then firm, punishing lips claimed hers. Lili swallowed her squeak, squeezing her eyes shut. His kisses were hard and fierce. Those lips peeled back for teeth to lunge in, and Liliana squealed as he bit at her mouth, latching onto her bottom lip. It wasn’t kissing in the way she knew it. This was devouring.

Just as Lili thought this would be an awful experience, full of pain and discomfort- Yang parted her lips, pushing his tongue inside. It shouldn’t have felt good. For some reason however, Yang let up his attack on her lips, brushing his tongue against hers with skillful, encouraging brushes. She tasted copper- her own blood. Lili found herself tentatively responding, clumsy and awkward in execution, but Yang’s quiet groan sent a bolt of molten heat down to her core.

“Mn- Lili-” he purred between kisses, tangling a hand in her hair and curling it into a fist. He tugged at the tresses, eliciting a gasp as he plastered their bodies together.

She hadn’t meant to sound quite so breathless. That cruel mouth smirked as it pulled away to start mouthing hungrily at her neck, biting, nipping and kissing as it went, before Yang shamelessly buried his face in her chest and gathered her close.

Lili squealed- hearing a snap as her bonds were slashed- that tail flicking back into the darkness. She held on about his shoulders just to keep upright. The thin, flimsy material of her robe was suddenly gone too- slashed open across her torso by something quickly- his claws perhaps. She could only watch the white material pool around her waist, gasping louder the moment something hot and wet clamped around her breast.

Sharp teeth skimmed and scraped, coaxing the bud of her nipples to harden. He then sucked and flicked at the peaks with his tongue, a foreign pleasure building inside her at the sensation. It made Lili bold enough to hold his crown of red hair, finding the uneven strands feathery soft to the touch. She didn't realise she was keening, arching into his mouth like a taut bowstring- until he gave a muffled chuckle.

"How do you like it, Liliana? Are mortal pleasures worth damning yourself for?"

"N-no. That's not why I did this."

"I'm glad. If you gave in so easily it would be dull. Perhaps we should test how much you enjoy demonic pleasures now."

"What do you mea- agh!"

That infernal tail returned, sliding between their bodies to dip between her thighs beneath the tattered remains on her clothes. Lili twitched and jolted, trying to remain upright as she straddled Yang. It proved difficult when the whip-like curve of the tail brushed and probed at her bare sex, beginning to rub against it.

"Yang…" she growled.

"Hmm?"

"This is- surely inappropriate-"

His lips and teeth glided up to the spot behind her ear, teasing the shell. "Heh, it's just a tail. I could fuck you with far more obscene things if you'd like."

"N-no. It's fine-"

He gave an answering chuckle before grasping her ass, beginning to grind her more insistently against his lap. Lili shuddered, swallowing a moan as the tip of his devilish tail teased and rubbed at her clit while something hard began to nudge between her legs from the folds of Yang’s trousers.

Oh.

Lili met his eye and wet her lips, darting her gaze away and back again. “Can- can I…?”

“Use your words.”

Long had she waited and wondered, imagining the extent of those marks on his hands. “Let me see all of you, too. If I am to be damned for this, we may as well do it properly.”

Yang tilted his head. “Mn? You want to play with me too?”

She couldn’t get any redder. Liliana gave a sigh, “if you must refer to it that way then-“

The smoke Lili assumed was from Yang’s extinguished pipe had continued to linger like a grey shroud, but suddenly it thickened. Lili blinked in surprise. It became hard to see- but she felt rather than saw the material under her hands evaporate into nothingness, leaving only warm bare flesh.

She sucked in a sharp breath when it dissipated, revealing a fully nude Yang beneath her. Sadly, her imagination hadn’t been able to conjure up anything close to the real thing. The tattoos branding his body travelled down the length of both arms, sprawling down one side of his torso and lovingly wrapping around his collarbone. It even continued down his thigh, stopping dangerously close to his-

Green eyes flicked away. She was unable to say anything uniquely quippy, only mumbling a small; “are you so lazy that you need magic to undress you?”

Yang chuckled, stroking his hands down her thighs. Those black claws trailed and bit down, drawing thin lines of blood. His mouth clamped onto her neck the moment she inhaled sharply, as if breathing in her pain and pleasure. That tail picked up from where it left off, teasing at her entrance, but as if bored with it, she felt pressure start to worm its way between the folds of her sex, nudging, inching in.

“Yang!” she exclaimed, digging her own nails into his shoulders.

He didn’t so much as flinch, humming an acknowledgment.

“Yang- you-!”

You can’t, she’d wanted to say. It was cruel, surely, to do this to her. To take her so impersonally as to spear her on his tail.

Liliana’s protests cut off the moment the tail slipped inside her wet folds. She gasped and clenched around it, eyes widening as an unholy noise ripped itself out of her lips. “Hnnnagh!”

It wasn’t anything like the fingers she’d used to pleasure herself with in stolen moments at midnight, nor was it like the pain she imagined a man’s cock would bring. It almost seemed to mould itself into the shape of her cunt, the tip stroking her virginal walls so lovingly she couldn’t help but clench hard around it.

“Do you like it better now?” Yang teased. “Do our devilish delights please the almighty Key Maiden?”

Lili couldn’t help but squirm with gritted teeth, bucking her hips against the leathery length of his tail. She tossed her head back and caught his eye- her own watery with need, rosy lips parted with a few strands of hair clinging to them. “Please,” she panted. “More, Yang…”

She was too lost in need to notice him stiffen beneath her. Teeth were then clamping down on her chest violently just as the thing filling her up undulated and writhed, canting her hips with the strength of it. Liliana cried out and dug her nails into Yang’s back as she held onto him, muffling sobs and sharp, keening noises into his shoulder. She could feel the circle of teeth digging into her chest- no- not her chest- it was branding itself directly over her heart. Another few squirms of the whip-like tail thrusting and licking inside her turned Lili’s mind to mush however- and she no longer cared what Yang did to her body. It thrust up and down, occasionally roving around like a seeking tongue and jostling her hips from side to side.

It was obscene. It was perfect. Evidence of her arousal slid down its black length, glistening in the light.

It wasn’t long before the fire he’d steadily coaxed awake in her veins lit brightly aflame, and Lili stiffened, crying out her rapture into the cave. A taunting echo of it played back to her several times over, damning in its sheer enjoyment.

Lili panted, feeling a dampness cover her body in a light sheen. She felt so hot. Yang’s strong back felt blisteringly warm beneath her hands.

Speaking of…

Coming down from her high, Lili blinked down at her demonic lover. She took in the state of her body with a kind of dazed acknowledgment.

It was no exaggeration to say she was covered in bite marks. Some were already raising with the purplish welts of bruises, others were angry red and slightly bleeding. Yang was busy smearing her crimson blood over the skin of her wrist, pressing his nose to it and inhaling like a man enamoured.

Or obsessed.

Tiger-like eyes slid open, and Lili’s cunt clenched around the slack tail still buried inside her. He wasn’t enamoured or obsessed, no. That would be too mortal. He was looking at her with some unnameable emotion, perhaps only known to demons.

With calm grace, his hand raised, fingers wrapping around her neck easily. “I’m going to take you now,” he said simply. “I did intend to play with you longer, but it’ll have to wait. Your blood is sweeter than a new-born lamb.”

The tail filling her was abruptly ripped free- and Lili cried out from the sudden loss rather than pain. It was replaced at first with bloody fingers touching at her folds, before a hard length pressed up against her.

“I-I-“ Lili quickly grabbed his face, cradling it between her hands and witnessing surprise flash within his golden depths. “You know I haven’t…before, so- so please-“

“You’d beg a demon to go easy on you?”

Lili bit her lip, squeaking when Yang joined her in the action and bit down onto her bottom lip with much more force, soon replacing the sting with the soft brush of his tongue and a lingering suck. “Don’t fret. I think I’m being plenty ‘nice’ already, don’t you? Heh, besides…I think you enjoy my brand of torment more than you can admit,” his tail was raised up to her mouth in offering, still sticky with evidence of her release. Liliana didn’t even question it as he teased it against her lips- her pink tongue poking out to taste herself.

His eyes darkened at the action. “A marvellously fast learner. You’ll do just fine…” he purred, leaning in and joining her in licking the length of his tail- before sealing their mouths together and kissing her hard.

His hips pushed up just as Yang brought hers down, pushing himself inside.

Lili’s cry as he took her maidenhead was muffled as Yang kissed her hungrily. He wrapped an arm more securely around her waist, waiting until he was fully locked inside before he began moving; thrusting up into her from below.

It quickly became overwhelming. Different from his tail certainly, but Lili couldn’t claim to hate it, far from it. She’d expected blood and pain, especially considering his appetite. Unlike everything she’d read and heard about from a few confessions however; this didn’t feel like a ruthless claiming. Yang rocked her hips against his with guiding motions of his hands upon her waist, showing her the rhythm until she was brave enough to move on her own. A surge of power shot through her veins when she watched how she straddled him- took him so well.

Something dark and hungry unfurled in her heart. It made her sink down and take even more of his cock, seeing stars behind her eyes at the feel of it.

When next they kissed: Liliana bit his lips. Yang purred in delight, bouncing her on his lap all the harder until wet noises graced her ears. The kind Elena and Leo had made; harsh, slapping sounds of bodies meeting. Yang shifted the angle and thrust up, hitting new depths inside her that sent Lili careening over the edge once more, screaming her release. The newfound appetite refused to be sated though- and she wound her fingers tight in red-wine hair and was back to bucking needily against him soon enough.

Yang’s eyes widened. A jagged smile split his lips- before he threw his head back. Broken, manic laughter filled the cave. It bounced ceaselessly across the dark cave’s walls in a vicious echo; a never-ending song that bespoke of demonic victory on hallowed ground.

-----

None of church higher-ups could figure out how it had happened; How Liliana had entered the tomb a virgin but left it defiled. She wouldn’t speak a word about it to anyone.

Some in the community thought this was a divine blessing- that she’d been visited by a holy figure. Most branded her a deceitful whore that had thoughtlessly given her virginity away to a stranger. Either way, she was stripped of her rights to enter Sainthood and another woman was selected to take up the task of becoming the next ‘Key Maiden.’

As for what became of Liliana, she returned to her humble origins of Arca’s small local church, facing the disappointed faces of her peers and mother figure, Sister Sophia. A pregnant Elena returned with her, their reputations similarly stained.

Weeks passed with little in the way of change, until the last day of summer. The moon loomed high and watchful that clear, still night. Rumour had it the next Key Maiden's test date was looming close on the horizon.

Lili startled awake, feeling arms supporting her weight. She was moving.

Green eyes snapped up to the demon carrying her. “Y-yang,” she rasped, shifting in his arms. Tears stung her gaze. She hadn’t seen him since the tomb, and had assumed he’d discarded her after having his ‘fun.’

His obsidian horns caught the light of the moon, gleaming with a smooth shine. It was then Liliana realised they were outside on the church grounds, grass crunching softly beneath his feet as they passed the graveyard's tombstones.

“Why are you crying? Is the sight of me so distressing?” he smiled down at her.

Golden eyes looked just a little kinder right then, softer. Or perhaps it was simply the tears blurring her vision that made him appear so.

Liliana buried her face in his chest, beating her fist against his shoulder. She shuddered, eventually wrapping her arms around his neck and clinging tight. “Damn you,” she whispered, choking on a sob. “You ruined me.”

“I liberated you. Have a little gratitude.”

“W-where are you taking me?”

“It’s boring not having you close by to torment, and I refuse to scuttle around a drafty church for the rest of your years. Don’t fret…where we’re going, you won’t have to worry about being ‘tainted’ or ‘ruined.’ It’ll become the norm.”

A fissure cracked open in the earth, steam hissing out. The green grass was scorched charcoal black as a large opening was created- the huge, yawning chasm of void-like darkness welcoming him home. Liliana's eyes widened, looking at the newly opened passageway that led down, down down into the depths of the earth...

“Will you not try to run?”

The thing she’d been raised for had been ruined. She had nothing else. Living for herself wasn’t a concept Lili had ever entertained- scarcely allowed to.

But this- experiencing pleasure in his arms? That was something she could do. It was selfish, indulgent and mindless, yet she'd never felt more at peace.

“It would be the wisest thing to do,” she murmured. Only…I can’t seem to get my legs to obey.

Her fingers curled into his clothing, betraying her.

Yang noticed, lips twitching. The yellow moon looming behind his head almost seemed to give his horns a halo-like gleam. His fingers tangled in her hair and tugged, bringing their lips together in a claiming kiss.

“Lili!”

She jolted in his arms and twisted to look over his shoulder, glimpsing Elena further away in her nightgown, cradling her new-born in her arms as she ran toward them.

Liliana opened her mouth to say something, but Yang’s stride didn’t falter, and he continued carrying her into the jaws of Hell, shadows falling over them. Before she was out of sight completely, Lili shot her what she hoped was a small, reassuring smile.

The lip of the earth slammed shut the moment they were swallowed inside the cavern, sealing Liliana away from the mortal plane. It didn’t matter how much Elena screamed and shouted for help, none would be able to save the former Saint that had surrendered herself to the whims of a Devil.

------------

In the weeks that followed, the cathedral and holy tower that had been erected to honour the Key Maiden figures became the victims of a sudden earthquake; toppling as if they were constructed by little more than building blocks. This perhaps would not be so strange; except the church leader's minds seemed to be compromised overnight.

They turned their attentions away from Key Maiden worship, abandoning it and leaving the practice to fade into obscurity, only mentioned in forgotten books of worship and old paintings. The people's faith latched onto something else, wanting, needing a figure of comfort to stave away the Devils.

End

#piofiore yang #yanglili #piofiore fated memories #piofiore episodio 1926 #piofiore no banshou #otome games #otome fanfic #piofiore fanfic

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boliv-jenta · 1 year

Text

Lucien Flores x f!reader ft Dieter Bravo

Part of the Exposed Masterlist

Set in the Wardrobe Universe

WC:3.3k

Warnings: Smut. Vaginal fingering. Cum eating. Anxiety.

Summary: Lucien gets some great advice from an unlikely source.

The Big Oh

"Hey, man! Come in, just close the gate behind you. We have a rogue goat with an attitude problem. She likes to eat the neighbours grass. It's always greener, right?" Dieter was even more hyper verbal than usual.

Truth be told, he was a little bit nervous. His wife had been encouraging him to make new friends. Dieter had no trouble making friends wherever he went. The articles written after the jobs he had were always filled with stories from his co-stars about how personable and professional he was. A long cry from the stories that they used to be filled with. His co-workers had genuine affection for him, but they were often from the other side of the country or even the world. When he wasn't working the last few years, which wasn't much, especially after that second Oscar, he was with family. His wife thought it would be nice if he had someone that he could just call to hang out with. Lucien had sprung to mind immediately when she had mentioned it over breakfast one morning. Every conversation Dieter had had with him had been enjoyable. They shared the same passion for art, for their work. Lucien had a great sense of humour. It was more subtle than Dieter's. He had a sharp wit and didn't miss a thing. That's probably why people resonated with his cartoon. He saw life as it was at its roots. The commonalities we all face. Whether we're a successful Hollywood actor or an aspiring artist.

"Can I get you a drink? Some hot? Cold? I don't drink any more but we have alcohol somewhere." Lucien looked at the clock on the wall that read 11.07. "I don't drink either, water would be good. Thanks."

Dieter disappeared out of one of the living room doors. His place was smaller than Lucien expected but it was still huge. The living room was sparsely decorated. There were two bookcases on either side of a very modern looking fireplace. Three sofas bordered a coffee table creating a little seating area. There were a couple of dressers against two walls and the third was a huge set of bifolding doors. One of them was open, allowing Lucien to hear the bleating of the goats that Dieter had mentioned. Lucien pondered the lack of personal touches as Dieter returned. He carried a tray with two bottles of water, two glasses and a bucket of ice. He set it down on the coffee table "Need anything else? Are you hungry?"

Lucien smiled up at him, where he stood looking ready to sprint off at a moment's notice to fulfil any requests. "I'm good, thank you."

Dieter visibly relaxed. "Sorry, I'm acting weird, right? I just got all up in my head about this." Sitting down he shook his head. "I haven't made a friend, independently of my wife, since I've been sober. I've forgotten how raw everything feels when you're not high. I have this massive need to impress you."

"I feel like I'm the one that needs to impress. You're successful in your career. I'm just a guy that couldn't do what he wanted and fell into another career."

"That you are successful at and adored by so many fans for. Don't sell yourself short! And for the record, acting wasn't my first career choice. I got into it as a therapy of sorts. I worked through my angst by playing characters that got to let their's out. I wanted to be an artist too."

"I heard that you paint."

"I try to when I get a minute. Do you want to see my studio?"

"Sure." Lucien tried not to sound too over eager. Seeing a new artist's work for the first time was always a rush for him.

Dieter led Lucien down a path, passed some goats. Some tiny pigs. Two Alpacas, that Lucien side stepped to avoid. Before coming to a small building set back in the trees. Dieter opened the door and gestured for Lucien to go first. Lucien had wondered where all the personality was in their home. He had found it. Each wall had multiple paintings hung on them. There were so many different art styles. The painting ranged from vivid and bold colourful pieces to more muted still life's. One large piece was still on the canvas, it was clearly a work in progress. The partial outline was distinctly feminine, she appeared to be naked and straddling something. The whole painting consisted of multiple vertical lines. Her outline was created by contrasting colours continuing that line. Each perpendicular colour was chosen to blur into each other. It was a vibrant piece.

"Do you like it?" Dieter asked almost shyly.

Lucien realised he'd been staring. "It's beautiful. You have a way with colour."

"Thank you. I can't take all the credit. I have a beautiful muse. That's my wife. All of the nude ones are. She let's me capture our more intimate moments as long as they aren't too explicit." As Dieter spoke Lucien looked around, his eyes lingered on an abstract piece that he reminded him of something he couldn't quite place. It was only as Dieter revealed the nature of his paintings that it became clear to Lucien that it was clearly a woman's face as she gave a blow job.

"Oh." Was all Lucien could think to say.

"Sorry. Was that an overshare?" Dieter winced.

"No, you're good. I like art with truth in it."

"Good." Dieter sighed. "So what are you painting?"

"Honestly? My love life going down in literal flames. It might be a little on the nose but it was cathartic." Lucien gave a little half laugh.

Dieter stepped forward a little. "Do you want to talk about it? The love life bit I mean?"

Lucien opened his mouth then hesitated to speak. When he took a breath instead Dieter offered him something else instead. "Hey, do you want to work on something now?"

Dieter fetched a fresh canvas and set it up next to his. "Here." He gestured to the paints and tools on his trolley now in between the two canvases. A small paint splattered radio was on top. Dieter switched it on low. Classic music flowed from it.

"Alright." Lucien smiled as he got to work. He let it all out his frustrations at himself. His worries, he poured it onto the canvas for a good half an hour. Even though it felt like minutes. When it really started to take shape Dieter couldn't help but make a comment. "That bad, huh?"

Lucien calmed the heavy breaths he didn't realise he had been taking. "Maybe. No, not really. My head just runs away with itself. Things were going really well and I put too much pressure on it and myself then I couldn't…" Lucien stopped himself from over sharing but Dieter just stood there patiently. Since they were standing in a room filled with paintings of his wife in various sex acts Lucien figured it wouldn't be all that shocking an admission, besides he needed some advice. "...I couldn't perform."

"Ah, so that's the reason behind Claude suddenly feeling more emotional and less horny."

"Pretty much. I saw a future beyond just sex with her and now I can't give her either. Sorry. I don't know why I'm telling you all this."

"Because I wanted you to. That's what friends are for, right? I knew something was weighing on you. Guys don't usually look that forlorn staring at my naked wife. So when you couldn't…what happened next?"

"She left. She was understanding and told me to rest. She's texted me a few times and I don't know how to respond. I've known this woman a week and I feel more for her than I have for any woman I have my entire adult life. That's crazy, right?"

"No, that's love. Or the beginnings of it. We fall in love over time because we get to know each other more. We find things in common. Quirks to love. All things we can detail but there's always that one part that we can't put our finger on. That part that makes love bigger than the sum of its parts. The thing that makes each love unique. The thing that makes you take risks for it. I think that's always there. Even in the beginning."

"Wow." Lucien breathed. "Maybe you should write the next episode. I've never thought about love like that."

"Neither did I. Then I had an incredible teacher." He looked to his canvas and smiled softly.

"I was scared to chase her off but telling her all this but I guess if it does scare her off, it wasn't meant to be. Better to be honest now than live a happy lie."

"Claude really needs that line. And you need to call her."

"You're right. Thanks, man."

"No problem. If it works out you can invite her over. We have a sex room that you can use."

Lucien's jaw went slack as he blinked at the other man.

"Now, that might have been an over share." Dieter made his way to the door. "The offer still stands though. It had a sex swing. I'll give you some privacy." As the door closed Lucien pulled out his phone. You answered on the fourth ring. "Hello?"

"Hey. Have..have you got time to talk?"

"Sure. I'd like to talk to you since you haven't answered any of my messages."

"I'm sorry. I just didn't know what to say."

"I'm sorry. I get that things can be overwhelming when you are anxious. I was just scared. I like you and I didn't know if this was over or…"

"Do you want it to be over?"

"No! No, I just thought you might be trying to peter things out."

"Shit. I'm sorry. No. I don't want to peter things out. I know it sounds crazy but I feel like there's something special here. I want to explore it."

"It's not crazy. Or it is and we're just both crazy. I want to see where things go too. Dinner tonight? My place?"

"Yeah. I'd like that."

"I'll text you the address. I'll see you around 6.30?"

"I'll see you then. Bye."

"Bye."

He could hear the smile in your voice as you hung up.

A knock at the door sounded. "Yeah?" Lucien called.

Dieter slipped through the door carrying a white paper bag. "How did the call go?"

"Good. We're having dinner at her place tonight." Lucien could barely contain his grin.

"That's great! I made a start on lunch if you're hungry and I grabbed you a bag we give out at our sex parties. We keep those quiet nowadays. Hence the inconspicuous bag. There's a little something in there to help you along if you need it."

It was an odd gift to receive but Lucien was genuinely touched. "Thank you."

"Just be careful with the timing of those things. I took one by accident once, right before a big sex scene or so I thought..." Dieter trailed off into his memory "...actually that turned out pretty well."

Lucien raised his eyebrows in question. "It was the first time I felt like my wife really cared about me. I mean she was always caring but she was like that with everyone. This time she helped me get off so I didn't ruin my big scene. Afterwards she let me hold her. We even had a little nap together. She was so fricken cute in my arms, sleeping peacefully. I just watched her for like an hour. I should have known then that we had something special. Three years in and it still feels special."

Lunch with Dieter was great. He was a good cook. He made steak and served it with salad. He made mocktails and served apple pie that his wife had baked. The conversation was easy. A little break from his thoughts was what Lucien needed.

When he arrived at your place he felt more positive about everything, like he could keep his thoughts in check. That seemed a little less certain when you opened the door in a little sundress. The thin straps and cut of the top showed you weren't wearing a bra. The hem skimmed your mid-thigh. It should be enough to half him squirming in his tightening jeans. Yet he wasn't. One thing at a time he told himself. Firstly, he had to apologise. Then you could have a nice date. It didn't have to be about sex.

"Is this too much? I wanted to look nice. Now I'm seeing that this looks like I'm dressed for easy access. I'm not expecting anything, there's no pressure." You suddenly became self conscious. Generally you were confident but surely everyone gets nervous when they really want something.

Lucien's hand came to cup your cheek. "You look beautiful. I know there's no pressure but I would like to pick up where we left off. Bedroom?"

Lucien saw your breathing pick up, before you led him upstairs. Once you had reached the second floor, his hands and lips were on you like they had been the first time. It was all a passionate blur as you stumbled to your bedroom. The soft mattress was at your back. Strong hands delicately remove your panties before gripping your knees placed over even stronger shoulders. Your cunt leaked as a warm tongue ran up it. Your clit pulsed at the friction of it. Lights danced behind your eyes, clearing to reveal Lucien's beautiful face hovering over yours. His chin glistening with your release. The taste on it was soon on your tongue. Lucien lay between your legs as if he was preparing to enter you. One hand kept his body up off yours. Your body prepared to take him, arousal coated your warm channel. A tingle of expectation ran through you at the thought of his cock slowly pushing inside of you. To your surprise, it wasn't his cock that slowly opened you up. It was his fingers. Two thick fingers filled you as his thumb pressed your clit. He pressed open mouthed kisses to your shoulders as he began to thrust. He rocked his whole body behind his hand, driving his fingers deep. You'd never had sex like it before. He was still close and intimate, his body moving on top of yours. His lips hovered over yours in between kisses, savouring every gasped breath across them. He was still penetrativing you deliciously deep, still making love to you, just not with his penis. Considering how liberal minded you were it struck you as odd that you'd never thought of this as sex. Whatever it was classed as, it was doing it for you.

"Lucien. I'm gonna…" the rest was lost to a moan of his name.

His fingers gently worked you through your orgasm until you were completely wrung out beneath him. He lay on top of you dotting kisses over your warm skin. In your blissed out state it took a moment for you to recognise just how much of Lucien was pressed against you.

"Oh, you're…do you want…? I mean I could take care of you." A shyness unbecoming of a woman who just had three of a man fingers pumping in and out of her cunt came over you.

"I'm good. I'm just glad I can get it up." Lucien huffed a laugh while he readjusted himself. "I'm worried I'll lose it if we put too much pressure on things."

"I understand. No pressure." You had worked your way into his lap. "Thank you. That was…incredible." You sighed happily before kissing him. As the kiss got more heated you couldn't help rock your hips against him a little until…"Oh, shit." Lucien groaned, trembling between your thighs. "Fuck, I'm sorry."

"What? Oh. Oh!"

"Great. I went from not excited enough to getting way too fucking excited."

"Yeah but it's really fucking hot."

"Really?"

"Really. Can I see?"

Lucien remembered your photo request as he stood undoing his jeans. A smirk bloomed inward at your apparent kink lining up with his. As soon as he pulled down his jeans and the dark spot on his grey boxer briefs was exposed, your face lit up. "Can I clean you up?"

There was no way he could refuse an offer like that. Your tongue lapped at his cum until he was clean and beginning to grow hard again. At that point he decided to quit while he was ahead and asked you to stop. You happily complied, swiping up the drops of him that had mixed with your saliva and escaped your mouth before pushing them back past your lips.

"Now that's the kind of energy I'd love for my art. I knew you were the perfect choice." The satisfied grin on his face made your heart flutter.

"Stop!" You couldn't help the nervous laugh that bubbled up. He was gorgeous, smart, funny and totally into you. That combined with the hormone still running through your system was enough to make you swoon like a lovesick teenager.

"I'm going to order some pizza and get a shower. You are welcome to join me. I have some clothes that will fit you if you want to stay over?" It may have been a little presumption but you didn't want him to leave.

"I actually have an overnight bag in my car."

"Hmm? For spontaneous overnight visits?" You quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Yeah. Well, ones to the hospital."

The lightness in your heart collapsd "Oh?"

"I have a couple of conditions. They're mainly kept in check. Since Covid I've kept a bag on hand in case the worst happened. It's not a big deal. I just like to be organised."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know. Is there anything I need to do? I don't test regularly any more or…" Concern had you on your feet and standing in front of him. Searching his face as if you were able to diagnose him with just a look.

"You're good." He wrapped you in his arms. "In the early days they didn't know how Covid would affect me so as a precaution they made me stay home for longer than everyone else. I couldn't go out in public for months. As they found out more about it they relaxed the rules. I could go out but masked up. Eventually, they said if I got my vaccines I would be fine. I did end up getting covid but I was fine."

"Wow. That must have been rough."

"It wasn't too bad and now it means I get to stay over without doing the walk of shame."

"Well that makes it all worth it I guess."

"Uh-huh." He replied, rubbing that perfectly carved nose over yours.

The two of you stood in each other's embrace for a long while. Crazy teenager crush aside, it was nice just to be held again. Affectionate moments were few and far between nearing the end of your last relationship. When the two of you decided to part it's with one last kiss.

With pizza order, you waited to see if Lucien wanted to take you up on that shower offer.

"I forgot, Dieter gave me this." He placed a small white bag on the counter next to his overnight bag.

"Advice, lunch, presents. He's a keeper. What is it?"

"It said it had stuff in it to help things along in the bedroom."

"Can I look?" Lucien nodded. "Oh, wow. Vibrating cock ring. Lube. Orgasm enhancer cream. Tingle massage oil. Nipple clamps. Viagra…"

"Yeah. He mentioned that. I didn't have the heart to tell him I can't take viagra. On top of the blood condition, I have a very slight heart condition." Shock and concern crossed your face. "It's not a problem but I stay away from anything that could potentially mess with my heart."

"Is there anything else you want to casually drop on me?"

"I'm not exactly a struggling artist. Technically I'm a millionaire."

"Oh!"

@kirsteng42 @prolix-yuy @thegreenkid2 @hquinzelle @fangirl-316 @gracie7209 @jedifarmerr @doommommy @scorpio-marionette @sturkillerbase @harriedandharassed @aynsleywalker @mswarriorbabe80 @quica-quica-quica @rise-my-angel @adancedivasmom @kinda-nobody @movievillainess721 @munsonownsmyass @mandoloriancookie @faceache111 @elegantduckturtle @manazo @simpingcowboy @pedrit0-pascalit0 @yourcoolauntie @pedrostories @geekrenaissance

#lucien flores x f!reader #lucien flores #the uninvited #dieter bravo #the bubble #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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thesimaniac · 2 years

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Vizinhança para TS2 - Paredão Púrpura

Minha primeira vizinhança feita do zero no The Sims 2! Espero que curtam ♡

Descubra Paredão Púrpura, uma cidade com quinze famílias, todas ligadas entre si por suas histórias, aspirações e emoções à flor da pele. Além das residências dos seus habitantes, você vai encontrar casas iniciais, médias e uma incrível mansão para outros Sims ricos e misteriosos que possam comprá-la, sem falar nos 21 lotes comunitários para sua gameplay ser bem agitada! Existem intrigas para resolver, desejos para realizar, mistérios para… Bom, para ficar curioso sobre. Clique em “continuar lendo” para saber tudo sobre a vizinhança, ou baixe nos links abaixo e descubra você mesmo!

Discover Purple Wall, a city with fifteen families tied between each other by their stories, aspirations and emotions. Beside its inhabitant’s houses, you will find small, medium and one gigantic house for your rich and misterious Sims to buy, not to mention the 21 comunity lots to keep your gameplay alive. There are schemes to solve, wishes to fulfill, and mistery to… Well, to be curious about. Want to know more? Click on “continue reading” to read the neighborhood history, and click the buttom bellow to download it!

Download pelo Megaupload - Vizinhança + Conteúdos Personalizados

Download pelo 4shared - Vizinhança + Conteúdos Personalizados

ATENÇÃO! Para poder jogar com a vizinhança e baixar os conteúdos personalizados, você precisa ter todos os pacotes do TS2! A maioria do conteúdo personalizado é default (pode dar conflito se você já tiver mais conteúdo personalizado), está separado por pastas e não é obrigatório, apenas vai deixar seus Sims mais bonitos. WARNING! In order to play with the neighborhood and download custom content, you will need all TS2 packages! The custom content is mostly default and can be conflitant if you already have defaults of the same kind. It is divided by subfolders and is not mandatory for your gameplay.

Para saber mais sobre a vizinhança, clique em "continuar lendo", ou baixe agora mesmo!

Bem vindo a Paredão Púrpura! Uma cidade construída sobre intrigas e atos questionáveis, mas que mesmo assim floresce bela com suas formações rochosas cobertas de tulipas e violetas. Aqui você vai encontrar um lugar calmo, cercado por plantações e famílias numerosas e amigáveis, ou agitado, em meio a locais badalados e com possibilidades de uma paixão futura, basta você escolher! Quer apostar?

Welcome to Purple Wall! A city built on schemes and questionable deeds, but still blooms beautifully with it’s rock formation covered on tulips and violets. Here you will find a quiet place, surrounded by farms and big friendly families, or a shaken neighborhood, between hot spots and full of love possibilities, it’s your choice only! Wanna bet?

Na casa dos Oliveira, Helena e Horácio não pareciam a combinação mais certeira, porém o casamento deles é um exemplo de como não deixar seus parentes interferir nas suas vontades é a fórmula do sucesso. Eles criam o pequeno Heitor para ser um troféu de sua incrível parceria (e, particularmente para Horácio, esfregar na cara de seus pais). At the Oliveira’s family, Helena and Horácio didn’t seem like a good match at first, but their marriage is an example of how not letting your parents interfeer in your interests can be a recipe for success. They raise little Heitor to be a trophy that shows their incredible partnership (and, particularly for Horácio, to shove in his unsupportive parent’s face).

A irmã de Helena, Astrid, sempre teve certeza de que se sairia melhor que ela, e vê-la tão feliz e bem sucedida depois de crescer na sua sombra foi um golpe no ego. Talvez a padaria que abriu com sua mãe, Gloria, seja a fonte do sucesso que ela tanto procura.

Astrid Medeiros was always sure she would end up better than her sister, and witnessing Helena so happy and successfull after growing up in her shadow made her ego shake. Maybe the bakery she opened with their mother can be the success fountain she is looking for so eagerly.

Gloria e Afonso Medeiros são um casal muito respeitado na cidade, e possuem boas relações com todas as famílias importantes. O problema é: no cabo de guerra que tem se formado entre os Oliveira e os Égal, eles saberão ficar no meio, ou terão de escolher o lado mais forte pra quando a corda arrebentar?

Gloria and Afonso Medeiros are a very respectable couple in town, and have good relationship with all the important families. The problem is: in the tug of war that is forming between the Oliveiras and the Égal, will they know how to remain on the fence, or they will be forced to chose the stronger side when the things get ugly?

Os Oliveira sempre foram mesquinhos e malvistos pela cidade, com a origem da fortuna de Manoel sendo questionada, e Andreia sendo acusada de corrupção pelos habitantes de Paredão Púrpura. Quem conquistou o amor dos vizinhos foi a filha mais nova, Darlene, que morreu com seu marido Caio num acidente com uma churrasqueira. O estranho ocorrido fez as mães de Caio, da casa Égal, terem um ódio profundo pela família, o que deixa a filhinha órfã do casal no meio do fogo cruzado.

The Oliveiras are petty and disliked in town, Manoel’s fortune always questioned about, and Andreia being accused of corruption by her voters. Who was able to form a relationship with their neighbors was their youngest daughter, Darlene, but then she died with her husband Caio in a grill accident. The strange incident made Caio’s mothers, from Égal’s place, grow a strong hate towards the family, which leaves the couple’s orphan child in the middle of the crossfire.

Bárbara e Janaína Égal construíram uma vida sigilosa, cuidando de seus próprios assuntos e sem deixar muitas pessoas entrarem no seu casulo. Darlene Oliveira conquistou seus corações e abriu sua mente para a possibilidade da bondade fora das portas de casa, o que revolucionou suas vidas. Quando ela e Caio morreram no acidente, o sentimento foi de que haviam perdido dois filhos, e jamais poderiam perdoar os Oliveira por deixarem isso acontecer.

Bárbara and Janaína Égal lived a private life, taking care of their own business and not letting many people inside their circle of trust. Darnele Oliveira managed to win their hearts and open their minds to find goodness in people outside their home, which revolutioned their lives. Then she and Caio died on the accident, and they felt like loosing two children of their own, never being able to forgive the Oliveira for letting that happen to them.

Juntas, as Égal adotaram três crianças: Georgiana, Caio e Leopoldo. Georgiana resolveu ficar na casa com as mães, mesmo após se casar com o estranho sujeito Andreas Zeboho. O sobrado da família já era motivo para cochichos e fofocas, e depois do casal sumir da vista da cidade, os boatos só se intensificaram.

Together, the Égal adopted three children: Georgiana, Caio and Leopoldo. Georgiana decided to live with her mothers, even after marrying the strange Andreas Zeboho. The family house was already subject for gossiping, and after the couple disappeared in the city, the rumors only intensified.

Leopoldo resolveu se mudar com seus colegas de banda, Frederico e Safira. Parecia uma ótima ideia viver sem regras e sem horários, até que ele passou a viver com pessoas que tinham o mesmo estilo de vida. Agora ele é o mais responsável dessa casa, e estudar, trabalhar, limpar, cozinhar e tocar numa banda não está sendo o sonho de rebeldia que ele esperava. Safira sempre fez amizades muito facilmente, mas não tem um senso de espaço pessoal (ou de regras) muito forte. Tudo que é dela é dos outros, e espera que tudo que é dos outros seja dela também. Isso não é muito bem visto pelos vizinhos, especialmente por Pietra, que é muito trabalhadora e precisa acordar cedo.

Leopoldo moved in with his band’s colleagues, Frederico and Safira. It seemed a great idea, no rules and curfews, until started living with people who had the same lifestyle. Now he is the most responsible person in the house, and studying, working, cleaning, cooking and playing on a band is turning out differently from the rebel dream he was hoping to live. Safira was always a social buterfly, but she doesn’t have much personal space notions, neither follows most rules. What’s hers belongs to others, and she expects that other people’s doors are always open for her. This is not very well received in the building where they live, specially by Pietra, who works hard and need to wake up early.

Pietra Zeboho precisa dar o dobro de si no seu emprego, já que seu marido, Luigi, tem mais inclinação para passar de nível no videogame do que na vida. Eles se amam profundamente e ele é totalmente devotado a ela, mas ela está começando a se cansar da vida de mãe do seu marido.

Pietra Zeboho does double shifts at her job, since her husband, Luigi, is more concerned about leveling up on videogame than in life. They love each other deeply, and he is totally devoted to her, but she is getting tired of living like his husband’s mom.

Mesmo assim o irmão de Pietra, Raimundo Rosá, inveja o que eles tem, pois não consegue encontrar uma conexão verdadeira com nenhuma mulher da cidade. Ele é perseguido por elas, que se atraem pela sua beleza simples e força, mas prefere ficar na sua oficina criando novas máquinas do que dar uma chance pra alguém que só se atrai pelo seu exterior.

Despite that, Pietra’s brother, Raimundo Rosá, envy what they have, because he can’t find a true connection with any woman. He is chased by the single ladies in Purple Wall because of his looks and strenght, but he would rather focus on his work creating new machines, than giving a chance to someone who only care about his looks.

O melhor amigo de Raimundo, Victor, foi trabalhar com ele na oficina após se mudar da casa do seu pai. Ele ficou de saco cheio da vida sem rumo de Osvaldo, que gasta o pouco dinheiro da família de forma irresponsável, e de como Anita estava seguindo pelo mesmo caminho. Agora que os negócios estão indo bem, ele queria poder trazer sua família para morar consigo, porém tem medo de ficar preso no mesmo loop.

Raimundo’s best friend, Victor, started working with him in the workshop after moving out from his father’s house. He was sick and tired of Osvaldo’s way of life, spending the little money he earned irresponsably, and how his sister Anita was following their father’s path. Now that business is going well, he wishes he could bring his family to move in with him, but fears the loop will begin again.

A paquera atual de Osvaldo, dona Isolde, é a matriarca da família Venúsio, e veio para ajudar Rui e Ingrid a cuidarem de seus dois pares de gêmeos. O casal sempre quis ser uma família grande, mas não esperavam que seria de forma… multiplicada. O problema é que Isolde passa mais tempo no telefone (e na cama) com Osvaldo, do que realmente ajudando com os pequenos. Será que Ingrid vai aguentar muito tempo a folga da sogra?

Osvaldo’s love interest, Isolde, is the Venúsio family matriarch, and came to her son’s house to help him and his spouse raise their two pair of twins. Rui and Ingrid always wanted a big family, but they didn’t expect it would be so… quick. The problem is that Isolde spend most of her time on telephone (or in bed) with Osvaldo, instead of really helping with the children. Will Ingrid bear her mother-in-law’s loitering any longer?

O irmão de Ingrid, Douglas Ortiz, sempre quis ter uma família de comercial de margarina, e demorou muito tempo pra encontrar o par perfeito. Quando ele e Rodolfo se casaram, o plano era ter vários filhos, animais, e abrir um restaurante juntos. Infelizmente a Dona Morte tinha outros planos pra essa família, e agora Douglas e Mádi estão se recuperando do luto.

Ingrid’s brother, Douglas Ortiz, always wanted the perfect family too, and took him a long time to find his perfect match. When Rodolfo and he got married, the plan was to have many children and animals, and open a restaurant together. Unfortunatelly, Grim Reaper had another plans, and now Douglas and Mádi are recovering from their griveance.

Rodolfo veio de uma família de três irmãos, e um deles é Udo Stein. Udo é um cara que curte passar a vida na horizontal, e por mais que ele tenha se esforçado pra manter seu casamento com Simone, a safadeza ainda era maior que o esforço. Quando resolveram se separar, os filhos quiseram ficar com pais diferentes, e para não perderem o contato resolveram se mudar para o mesmo condomínio. Ver todos os dias o rosto da pessoa que a traiu não foi um problema para Simone, mas ver todos os dias o rosto da pessoa por quem ela se apaixonou, foi.

Rodolfo came from a three siblings family, and one of them is Udo Stein. Udo is a guy who likes to spend his time horizontally, and, even though he tried so hard to keep his marriage with Simone, his naughtiness was stronger. When they broke up, each of their children wanted to go live with a different parent, so they moved to the same apartment complex to keep them close. Seeing her cheating ex everyday was not a problem to Simone - but seeing the man she fell in love with was.

A terceira irmã, Laíse, é casada com o irmão de Simone, Patrick. Na casa Golder, tem festa todo dia, com barulho, dança, bebidas e banheira de hidromassagem. Patrick fica feliz em poder dar tudo o que sua adorável esposa quer, mas às vezes ele gostaria de passar um dia da semana na paz comendo pizza, já que ele precisa trabalhar no outro dia.

The third sister, Laíse, is married to Simone’s brother, Patrick. In Golder House, it’s party everyday, with noise, dance, drinks and bathtubs. Patrick is more than happy to give everything his beloved wife wants, but, sometimes, he would like to just stay at home eating pizza for a change, since he has to work in the morning.

Os Golder eram também três irmãos, e a terceira é Nicole. Nicole se anulou e ajudou seus irmãos por muito tempo, costurando roupas para vender e pagar as contas de Simone e Patrick. Quando eles casaram e abandonaram a casa, ela se sentiu deixada pra trás, e casou com o primeiro solteirão que encontrou pra não ficar pra titia. Ela só não esperava que Epaminondas fosse tão contrário aos preceitos básicos de uma família feliz: ter uma penca de filhos. Pra ele, os cachorros são seus filhos, e ele passa o dia treinando eles para chegarem no topo de suas carreiras.

The Golder were also three siblings, and the third is Nicole. She spent her youth helping her brother and sister, sweing clothes to sell and pay for their bills. When they got married and left the house, she felt left behind, and married the first single man she found, in fear of dying alone. She just didn’t expect that Epaminondas had a different view about a happy family: he didn’t want a bunch of kids. For him, the dogs are their children, and he spends his time training them to become the best in their careers.

Existem outros habitantes misteriosos na cidade que são vistos frequentemente, mas ninguém sabe muito sobre eles. E também existem mistérios que ninguém entende, e que já foram esquecidos na memória popular. O importante é que Paredão Púrpura tem tudo o que qualquer pessoa precisa para dizer: aqui é o meu lugar!

There are other mysterious inhabitants that are spoted frequently in town, but no one knows much about them. And there are also mysteries that no one understand or thinks about. The important thing is, Purple Wall has everything anyone needs to say: here I will be home!

#the sims 2 #thesims2neighborhood #thesimaniac #neighborhood

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louisianaspell · 5 months

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February 2024 BTS Fic Recs

🔪 Dark fics: These fics/series contain scenes and plots that can be triggering! Please make sure you read all the warnings, tags, and authors note before reading!

🔥 Smut: These fics contain sexual situations, 18+up only!

Before I Leave You

Someone always has to leave first; They just didn’t expect Yoongi to come back with a new omega (who’s clearly been through some shit) [Series Warning: 🔥]

Sweet as Honey (ao3)

In a time where omegas are increasingly rare, others constantly question your resistance to find a mate. No one seemed to understand that you were content to stay in your comfort zone, focusing solely on your job. However, a series of unexpected events set your quiet world into motion, making you question your outlook on life and on mating bonds (Series Warning: 🔥)

Gang Shit

Your daughter's classmate has a really hot dad. Apparently, you're his arch-nemesis.

Paper Vows (ao3)

Your first time seeing Jin after your breakup and hearing about his engagement (Series Warning: 🔥)

Payment Plan (ao3)

Your husband and you find yourselves bankrupt and dead broke thanks to his gambling problem. His younger brother - successful businessman Kim Seokjin - offers a helping hand free of charge. Unbeknownst to your brother, you would be the one paying Seokjin for his charity

How Claimed You as His

How you survived after the disappearance of your mother, and how Seokjin decided to woo you

Fail Safe (ao3)

Growing up, your brother's best friend always berated you for not having a passion in life outside of loving him from afar. When Yoongi leaves everything he's ever known for everything he's ever wanted, trying to move on from him becomes your biggest aspiration. Alternatively, Yoongi left when you needed him the most, and comes back home at a time when you love him the least

Take Five

You’re Yoongi’s nurse and you have a crush on him, and he gives you five chances to ask him out — he never said anything about accepting though.

Perpetual Datejust

You’re yoongi’s manager and for the first time ever, you take a break away from him.

Soliloquy

Jimin was a boy who had an affinity for flowers. You were a girl who liked to talk to them. It all should have been very simple. Except for the incredibly complex fact that Jimin was an angel and you were painfully human, completely oblivious to his existence and how he had somehow fallen deeply and foolishly in love with you

Show & Tell (ao3)

Taehyung tells you why he’s been scared of taking your relationship to the next step (Warning: 🔥)

Flesh and Blood

You are living in a society that is just now picking up the scraps that the Great Outbreak left behind after the government killed off the majority of the zombies. Still, some remain, and fear still lies within society’s walls. So imagine your surprise when the very thing you’ve been taught to fear ends up saving your life, showing you that maybe two beating hearts aren't always required when it comes to love (Series Warning: 🔥)

Four Seven Eight

Jungkook’s married to you, but he still celebrates his anniversary with his ex out of sentimentality

#bts fic rec #fic rec #kim namjoon fic rec #kim seokjin fic rec #min yoongi fic rec #jung hoseok fic rec #park jimin fic rec #kim taehyung fic rec #jeon jungjook fic rec

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mandoalorian · 2 years

Text

Happier Than Ever - Chapter 2

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

Summary: Dieter Bravo is the face of Hollywood, a nepotist baby who hails from fortune and glory. When his latest movie, Cliff Beasts 6 flops at the box office, his management decide they need to take on a new approach – and organise a PR stunt, arranging a marriage between you, an aspiring actress and Dieter, in an attempt to heal his spiralling career.

Rating/Warnings: E for eventual smut. But in this chapter, description of an assault, alcohol use, allusions to sex and masturbation.

Word count: 5000

Note: Yay! The highly anticipated chapter 2! I just wanted to say thank you for all the support on the first chapter, I'm so happy with how it was recieved. Remember if you want more of the story remember to reblog! <3

Masterlist

Your eyes darted between Gianna, then Dieter, then Lola, then back to Gianna.

Lola’s mouth hung wide and Dieter didn’t look like he was paying much attention. Gianna’s painted red lips twisted into a smirk as she watched the way your brain processed all of this new information. It wasn’t a proposal; it was blackmail. You wondered how long Dieter had known about this sick plan.

Dieter acknowledged how your dressing room was practically empty, with basic cream coloured walls and an awkward blue chair pushed into the corner. Fallon had hardly rolled out the red carpet for you, but as soon as Dieter had stepped on set, buffets had been made and stressed assistants were swept up bringing him glasses of Moët & Chandon. You had a half empty cup of water that looked like it came straight from a dispenser, and not an assistant in sight. Dieter had never really noticed the difference in the way guests were being treated, until now. But still, he didn’t think too much of it.

“Let me get this straight,” you said, rubbing your temples. Dieter’s brown eyes whizzed back over to you. “You’ll sign me to your production label and I’ll be hired with United Talent Agency?”

That was the deal. The deal of a lifetime.

Having an agent like Gianna, and working with United Talent Agency would potentially be one of the most wonderful things to ever occur to you, there was no doubt about it. It would basically guarantee acting jobs for the next 50 years, and it was the label some of the biggest Hollywood stars were under, Dieter included. It was a far-off aspiration that suddenly seemed possible, and the thought of being an A-List actress making it big in Hollywood… Well, that was the dream you’d been praying on, ever since you were a little girl. It felt like your entire life had led up to this moment, despite it happening in such an unconventional way.

“On the condition you sign a three month contract and agree to marry Dieter Bravo, yes.”

Your eyes flicked to Dieter again, and he looked up at you sheepishly. You folded your arms across your chest and pointed your finger at the actor.

“You,” you said, your tone gaining the attention of Dieter. “What’s in it for you? Surely you don’t want this.”

“Quite frankly, I couldn’t think of anything worse.” Dieter bit back, a little more defensive than you’d anticipated.

“But you agree to this?” you prodded him further in a questioning tone.

Dieter shuffled his feet awkwardly, and you realised he seemed to be imitating a shy child on the verge of throwing a temper tantrum, whether he meant to be, or not. No, he certainly was not happy about this. And he’d rather take any other option in the world than have to marry a complete stranger.

“Dieter signed his section of the contract this morning.” Gianna answered for her client before placing the papers down in front of you.

You turned to Lola and sighed, shaking your head. “If I sign these papers… that means you won’t be my manager anymore. I won’t be with your agency.” you frowned, sad at the thought of leaving your best friend.

Lola grabbed your hands and squeezed them tightly. “Don’t worry about me honey, you know I just want what’s best for you. You can’t pass up an opportunity like this.”

“I know but–” you began to protest.

Lola said your name firmly and took your hands. “You must do what you feel is right.”

You hesitated slightly, feeling a slight twinge in your heart. There was something about this whole thing that felt off, but then again, second thoughts would only be natural when you’re marrying a complete stranger. You weren’t in love. Hell, this was the first time you had even met Dieter, besides seeing him on TV and in ad campaigns on the street.

But if your mother had taught you one thing before she died; it was that you had to take risks. If you didn’t take this risk then you’d spend the rest of your life regretting it and wondering, ‘what if…’. This was something you needed to do.

You took a deep breath and placed a hand over the stack of papers. The contract.

“Get me a pen.”

Dieter flushed white the second he heard the four words leave your lips, but Gianna simply squealed with excitement, taking a biro out of her blazer pocket and quickly handing you it.

Not even bothering to read the thirty page contract, you peeled back each page and squiggled your name on each dotted line.

By the time you got to the final piece of paper, the grip on your pen was so strong, ink was practically spilling out. You glanced up at Dieter who was staring at you with wide, pleading eyes. You didn’t know why, he’d already signed the contract.

But his mind was racing. Yes, he’d signed the contract, but suddenly marrying you wasn’t his biggest worry. You were young, fresh-faced and new to the industry, but doing this – joining Gianna – it would taint you and change you, maybe not for the better. Dieter had been born into the cruel world of Hollywood scrutiny but now, he was watching you sign your life away to United Talent Agency.

He had the selfless urge and the power to stop you, but he didn’t.

He needed you to sign this contract, so he kept quiet, and by the time you’d finished with all the papers he breathed a shaky air of trepidation. Gianna took the contract and held it tight to her chest.

“Amazing! Welcome to United Talent Agency,” she winked before gesturing to Lola. “C’mon, let’s leave the soon-to-be weds so they can get to know each other.”

Lola stood up and brushed past you. “Will you be okay?” she whispered and you nodded in false reassurance, tears filling your eyes. You’d never been so overwhelmed in your entire life.

Gianna and Lola left the room, and the second the door slammed shut, it was like time had frozen. You stood there, gazing at the closed door, mouth agape, feeling trapped. Like you’d imprisoned yourself. In fact, you’d completely forgotten that Dieter was standing with you in the silence.

He cleared his throat and extended his arm.

“You look sad,” he commented.

His words snapped you back to reality and you turned to face him.

He looked the same in real life as he did on the billboards and in the movie theatres, perfect white teeth and broad shoulders – like a true face of Hollywood. But his eyes looked tired and his hair, that had only just been styled before he came on Fallon, was now poking up in random places. You guessed that he must’ve been in his 40s now, judging by the hints of grey in his patchy stubble. His look completed him. It was iconic. It made him a household name. You weren’t just standing in front of Dieter Bravo, you were about to make him a husband.

“I’m fine.” you said quickly, but you hated the way the words left your lips. It was like a garbled, anxious mess.

Dieter nodded slowly, pursing his lips. “So you’re an actress?” he asked, attempting to make small-talk. “Anything I might’ve seen you in?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “What do you watch?”

“Just my own stuff.” he replied with a straight face, clicking his tongue.

You blinked.

“Why were you crying? Before I came?” He quizzed curiously, casually changing the subject. His eyes were locked on you and you could feel your heartbeat begin to increase in pace.

“I wasn’t crying.” you answered, breaking eye contact with him.

Dieter sighed incredulously. “Do you always lie this much?”

You gasped slightly at his tone and furrowed your eyebrows together in annoyance. “Listen, when I woke up this morning I didn’t expect to be engaged to a complete stranger by the end of the day,” you snapped defensively. “This is all very hard to process.” “Honestly, neither did I,” Dieter frowned, raising his voice slightly. “But here we are. You signed the contract.” he pointed accusingly.

“So did you!” you retorted, this time raising your own voice. You weren’t going to let any man shout at you, not even Dieter Bravo, that’s for sure.

Dieter ran a hand through his dark locks of hair. “And for what? For fame?” he scoffed.

“For my dream.” you corrected.

“So you choose the quick and easy path.” Dieter rolled his eyes.

“What the hell do you know about my choices? You were born into this life! You have no idea what I’ve been through to get here–”

“–Neither do you–” Dieter rudely tried interrupting but you didn’t stop speaking, your voices crossing over each other as you already began to argue.

“–Yeah because I’m sure it’s so hard to be Dieter Bravo–” you mocked.

“–You don’t even know me–”

“–Born with not just a silver spoon up your ass, but a whole 24 carat gold cutlery set–” you continued.

“–Jesus Christ you’re insufferable–”

“–Oh I’m insufferable? You come here making accusations–”

“–I didn’t want this–” Dieter protested.

“–You signed the damn contract–”

Amidst all the fighting, you hadn’t even heard Gianna come back into the dressing room.

“Sounds like it’s going well,” She grinned sarcastically, shutting the both of you up. “I have a limo waiting for you both outside as well as press and paps from TMZ–”

You shook your head and raised your hands, surrendering to your new manager.

“I can’t do this. I’m sorry, but I can’t.” you pushed past Dieter and headed towards the door, but Gianna stopped you. She grabbed your arm and dug her acrylic nails into your skin, deep enough to hurt, but not deep enough to leave a mark. You gasped and jolted back to face her. Dieter swallowed and took a step back as he observed.

“You what? You can’t do this?” Gianna asked, tilting her head and feigning sweetness. “Oh honey, you don’t have a choice anymore. You’ve already signed the contract.”

“I know but I just… I can’t do this. I’m sorry.” You tried to break away from Gianna’s grip but her digits only tightened around you. You could already feel four small bruises begin to form underneath her fingertips.

“Sweetie, like I said, you no longer have a choice…” Gianna said slowly, allowing time for her words to sink in.

You looked back up at Dieter, your eyes imploring him for help, and he felt an ache in his heart. He should’ve said something. He should’ve put a stop to this mess whilst he still had the chance.

“What?” you asked, feeling yourself begin a cold sweat. “There– there has to be a legal clause– or something– I mean– you can’t– you can’t…”

Gianna sighed. “Oh, but I can. Now, don’t make this difficult. I’ve got you in lock and key,” she reminded you, and there was something so sinister about her words. “Now hurry along now. And don’t forget,” Gianna took a silver diamond ring out of her blazer pocket and pushed it forcefully down your ring finger. “When you go out there, show off the ring! Make sure the paparazzi catch it. And… try to at least look like you both tolerate each other.” she said before leaving for a final time.

Dieter caught you shaking and bolted over, wrapping an arm around your waist and steadying you.

“I don’t think I can go out there,” you admitted as tears started spilling down your cheeks. “I don’t think I can do this, I don’t— I can’t—”

“Hey listen to me,” Dieter hushed, his grip tightening around you. He understood the panic. “You can do this. It won’t be easy but it’s only three months and just remember why you’re doing this, okay?”

You nodded your head, furiously wiping away your tears before bringing your forearm up to inspect Gianna’s assault.

“Holy shit…” you whispered in disbelief.

Dieter grabbed his jacket and threw it over your shoulders. “You should put this on, it’s cold out there and the last thing you want is the paps catching those bruises.”

You slid into his heavy leather jacket and relished the warmth it provided. You’d always wear faux, but this felt expensive.

“How many paps do you think will be out there, waiting for us?” you asked Dieter as a shiver ran down your spine. You’d never really had to deal with paparazzi, or press before. You supposed it was one of the perks of being ‘new and upcoming’.

Dieter scratched the back of his neck. “Normally between twenty or thirty,” he answered. “Do you have sunglasses?”

You shook your head ‘no’ and Dieter dived his hand into the pocket of his leather jacket that he’d loaned you, bringing out a pair of RayBans.

“You’re going to want to protect your eyes from all the camera flashing, trust me,” he said, sliding the glasses down the bridge of your nose and positioning them onto your face. “There you go.”

You turned to face your dressing table mirror and choked out a laugh. “I look like you.”

Dieter smirked. “Nah, you’ll never be that good lookin’,” he joked and you rolled your eyes, but felt your cheeks flush with heat. “But seriously, we should probably be going now. Don’t want to keep the limo waiting or Gianna will be all up in our faces again.”

“She seems fine with you.” you acknowledged as you and Dieter left your dressing room and headed out of NBC studios.

“She’s been my manager forever,” Dieter replied. “She’s not fine with me, she’s just used to me. Same way I’m used to her.”

“Does she always lash out like that?” you asked as you turned a corner.

“Depends if you cross her,” Dieter shrugged, pausing at the front door. “Are you ready?”

You took a deep breath and nodded your head. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Dieter pushed open the heavy black door and you were both immediately greeted by screaming fans, yelling paps, and white flashes coming from SLR cameras. On impulse, you ducked your head down, doing your best to stay calm and follow Dieter.

Teenage girls screamed Dieter’s name and journalists made an attempt to thrust microphones in your face.

“Miss, who are you?”

“What is your name?”

“What is your relationship with Dieter?”

“Are you fucking Dieter?”

You let out a squeal as one girl grabbed you, and Dieter quickly pulled you away from her and wrapped an arm around you. Holding you like this seemed to be a habit of his. “We’re almost there,” he whispered in reassurance, holding you tight as he helped guide you to the limo. “Where the hell is security?”

You opened the limo door when you heard one man roar.

“She’s wearing an engagement ring!”

Holy shit.

Swinging the door open, you clambered inside and Dieter quickly followed suit before shutting the limo door behind him. Taking a second to catch his breath, he tapped the driver on his shoulder and recited an address to a penthouse suite.

The paparazzi were swarming the limousine, tapping on the window, yelling, and still trying to take photos despite the tinted car windows.

It was only when the driver stepped his foot on the gas, were you able to calm down. The crowds of crazed fans dispersed and you took off Dieter’s sunglasses, sighing in relief.

You knew paps could be brutal; but you could never have anticipated just how bad it could be.

You leaned into the car seat and allowed your eyes to wander to the view out the window.

“Are you okay?” Dieter asked.

For someone who was so easy to bicker with, Dieter sure did seem to care about your wellbeing, at least.

“I’m fine.” you replied, your voice soft as your eyes didn’t leave the passing trees.

“You keep saying you’re fine but you know, it’s okay if you’re not…” Dieter trailed off. “I know you’ve dreamt of this life, but it’s not an easy one. I just think it’ll take some getting used to.”

You sighed and shook your head.

“Dieter, you’ve never had to face the struggle of paying rent or wondering if you can even afford to put food on the table. You’ve lived in the lap of luxury your entire life. You have thousands of adoring fans and millions of dollars to your name. To me, this is the dream.”

“If I could somehow leave all this behind and live a normal life, I would,” he replied firmly.

“I don’t believe you,” you hummed before shuffling out of his jacket and throwing it onto his lap. “Anyways, thanks for having my back out there.”

Dieter stayed silent.

He had a thousand thoughts racing through his head. He wanted to know just exactly what you thought of him, because, in his opinion, it seemed like you had a stick up your ass. There was something pressing on you and he didn’t understand what.

Maybe you were just worked up after having signed those contracts. Maybe you both just needed a good night's sleep.

Dieter glanced back over to you and to be fair, you did look tired. Your head was pressed against the glass of the window and your fingers were nervously fiddling with the hem of your dress.

It was a beautiful dress, champagne in colour but gold sequins adorning the fabric. Dieter swallowed as he remembered the way you looked so poised and beautiful on stage at Fallon, and he found himself revelling in the way the dress clung to your hips so perfectly. You were beautiful; there was no denying that.

The driver pulled up to a parking lot outside of the most prestigious looking apartment block you had ever seen. Dieter quickly explained that the top floor was all his, and you weren’t surprised that he owned the penthouse suite. You gazed up; the building must have been at least twenty stories, and you tried to envision his place. From the outside, all you could see was each wall, adorned with enormous, full length windows, and he had a balcony with a pool. The bricks were painted white creating a sleek and elegant look. Definitely a little too modern for your laid back taste.

It certainly made a change from your shanty little apartment back in your hometown.

Dieter briefly acknowledged the doorman and you scurried behind him, following him into the elevator and travelling all the way to the top floor.

You were mesmerised.

“I feel like I’m Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman.” you admitted, feeling exasperated.

Dieter hummed, sliding his keycard in the lock and granting himself access to the suite. You’d briefly forgotten that he most likely hadn’t even seen Pretty Woman… Mr. ‘I only watch my own movies’.

You followed him inside and your mouth hung wide as you took in the surroundings. On the very few windowless walls hung contemporary art, and under your aching feet, was the softest, plushest white carpet you’d ever seen. It was all open space, with only a low wall separating the kitchen, dining room and living space. “My office is back there, the bathroom is over there, my bedroom is round that corner and I have a spare room just down the hallway.” Dieter explained, dropping his key card next to the fruit bowl and heading over to the liquor cabinet.

He tossed back a shot of whiskey and grabbed the corner of the breakfast bar as he swallowed the burning liquid.

“Mind if I take a look around?” you questioned, taking a deep interest in the artwork and sculptures that peppered the foyer. You wondered if Dieter furnished the place himself.

“Sure.” Dieter replied dismissively, already pouring himself another shot.

You didn’t have such high expectations for a bathroom. The shower was enormous and could easily fit two people… you wondered if it was made to fit two people. There was even a television on the wall opposite the toilet and you tried to scoff down a laugh. Somehow, Dieter Bravo having a TV in his bathroom made way too much sense.

His office was on the smaller side, but stacked with books. Interestingly, it was all non-fiction, and you even managed to spot some sheet music in the corner.

You made an attempt to jog your memory. Had Dieter Bravo ever played music in a movie? Hell, had he been in a musical? You didn’t think so. You couldn’t imagine someone like him being musically gifted, but hell, what did you know? He did come from a talented family, that’s for certain.

You were thankful for a guest bedroom, that was for sure. Just because you were ‘marrying’ Dieter, didn’t mean you had any intention of sleeping with him – so it was nice to have your own bed.

But it wasn’t just your own bed. The guestroom was decked out with an en-suite and a walk in closet.

You just had to know what made it different from the master bedroom.

Dieter was still in the kitchen, still shooting back shots of Jack Daniels, so maybe you could just take a sneak peek at what his room was like. Out of mere curiosity, of course. You ditched your heels and left them in the corner of the guest bedroom before tip-toeing down the hall to the final room.

The door was shut and you considered it could be locked, but to your surprise, when you twisted the handle, it opened easily.

His room was an odd shape, as the second you stepped foot inside, his bed was nowhere in sight. You were, however, greeted with his very own walk-in closet.

You couldn’t help but grin. How the hell were you standing in Dieter Bravo’s closet right now? Who would’ve thought?

It was filled with shoes and shirts and countless pairs of jeans and sunglasses. You even spotted the iconic blue flip flops he wore in his hit movie ‘Hunger Strike’, and the red puffer jacket he wore in his not-so-hit-movie ‘Cliff Beasts 6’. Pushing through the racks of coats, you knocked something onto the floor.

Praying he hadn’t heard the clatter, you quickly bent over to pick it up, and when you saw just exactly what had fallen, your heart rate erratic.

It was a box of extra large condoms and a bottle of lube.

You stood there, holding them both in your hand, before quickly forcing yourself to snap back to reality. You clammered to push them behind the rack of coats. That was where they fell from… right?

Extra large. Extra large…

Feeling your cheeks flush with heat, you skipped out of the closet trying your hardest to swallow down the memory of what you’d just seen, and into the main part of the bedroom. The carpet was the same plush white and–

“Dieter baby, I’ve been waiting for you…” a soft, feminine voice lulled.

Whilst your heart had been racing before, right now it was like it had completely stopped. There was no swallowing down this memory.

There, lying in Dieter’s bed, was a gorgeous woman wearing nothing but lacy black lingerie and knee high stockings.

You froze in your footsteps, your eyes widening as you took in the sight before you.

The woman seemed to have frozen too, her eyes watching you as if she was waiting for your next move.

Instead though, you said nothing, and did nothing. You just froze, feeling like your feet were glued to the ground. You wanted to apologise, you wanted to ask who she was and what the hell she was doing in your soon-to-be-husband’s bed. But no words came out.

The silence was deafening and in just a matter of seconds, the woman let out a high pitched scream. Or more like a wail.

“DIETER!”

Footsteps came thudding and Dieter practically crashed into his room, where he was greeted by the half naked blonde woman, and well, you.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” He muttered, shaking his head. “Ashley, baby,” he chuckled and you narrowed your eyes. Baby? “What are you doing here?”

“I saw you on Fallon, I knew you’d be in town so I wanted to surprise you,” the blonde replied – who you now identified as Ashley. “Who is this hooker?”

Before Dieter could reply, you flashed Ashley your engagement ring. “His fiancee.”

All colour drained out of Dieter’s face as he broke his gaze from Ashley and looked at you incredulously, and then looked back at Ashley. It was the double-take of a lifetime.

“Is this true?” she asked in disbelief. “You’re marrying this… this whore?” Ashley spat in disgust.

“Hey you listen here–” you snapped, approaching Ashley at an alarming pace.

“Whoa whoa,” Dieter said, quickly intervening and sliding between the two of you. “Yes, she’s my fiancee but it’s not real. It’s not true.”

“What are you talking about?” Ashley prodded.

You leaned into Dieter. “I don’t think it’s wise to…”

“It’s a complicated contractual–” Dieter started and you felt the urge to scream out loud in order to cut him off.

“Oh my God she’s psycho.” Ashley said pointedly.

Dieter looked at you bewildered and you quickly dragged him into the closet. “Look, I don’t know who she is, nor do I care, but you need to get her the hell out of your bed without saying a word of our little agreement we have going on.” you warned Dieter sternly.

“Right,” he whispered. “You’re right. I'll sort it out.”

You sighed in relief and rubbed your temples, feeling a headache begin to come on. “Okay. Thank you.”

“You should get some sleep. It’s late, and no doubt we’ll have a busy day tomorrow.”

You hesitated, not liking the fact Dieter had some sneaky link in his bedroom. But he promised you he’d get her to leave and you didn’t have a reason not to trust him.

“Okay,” you replied and gave him a small smile. “You’re not mad at me for being in your bedroom?”

“I’m sure having you see Ashley in my bed serves as enough punishment?” Dieter smirked, and you mentally cursed at the way you’d just allow your mind to wander.

Those damn extra large condoms.

Maybe you did need some extra punishment.

You thinned your lips and smiled at the actor. “Yeah, totally,” you said. “Goodnight Dieter.”

“Night ‘honey.”

Honey. The nickname melted your heart and for a hot second, you didn’t think Dieter was all that bad. Sure, he had stolen your thunder on Fallon and not even apologised, and he’d been accusational back in your dressing room, but also you did suppose that he’d treated you pretty decently when it came to navigating through the paps and for the duration of the car ride home. Maybe, just maybe, the next three months would be okay.

You padded back into the guest room, slipped out of your clothes, and got under the soft, satin sheets. It was perfect.

No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t rest though. Your thoughts kept wandering back to the condoms and the lube and his damned smirk and the way he called you ‘honey’ and fuck. You let your fingers trail down to your cunt and you started touching yourself. There was something so erotic, knowing that he was just in the other room. Maybe if you were loud enough… he’d overhear. Maybe he’d come in and help.

Dieter was too preoccupied with other things though.

“So you're going to kick me out?” Ashley pouted, briefly registering the clicking sound of Dieter this time locking the door to his bedroom, something he should’ve done this morning to avoid all of this.

The actor undone his belt and zipped down his jeans, letting them pool around his ankles. It wasn’t uncommon for him to go commando.

“No,” Dieter answered, holding his heavy cock in his hands. “I’m just going to fuck you instead.”

------ Chapter 3 coming soon! -------

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antisociallilbrat · 2 years

Text

BDSM (Bill Deserves So Much)

Read on Ao3

Rating: E

Gift for @fuckbitchesgetreddie

Summary: “You know, you’re really dumb sometimes,” she giggles, “I went up to borrow your laptop the other day and you’ll never believe what I saw on your computer screen.”

It feels like the bottom of his stomach has fallen through, shit. How can he be so stupid? God, and it’s Bev that found that site, so he knows she snooped through it.

Or my work for the Fourth Poly Losers Exchange

Warnings and Prompt under cut

Warnings: Smut and BDSM themes, very, very, mild choking, and kink negation

Prompt: Just a fun fic exploring dynamics! Maybe one of them is ace or gray ace, maybe some love it rough and others slow. Maybe one only doms for a specific Loser, or only subs for another etc. How they pair/match up together and work out kinks (the sexy kind) and kinks (the bad kind). Just go crazy with it (as long any rough/mean stuff is consensual). I only squick at Eddie sexually being with Bev and Bill; otherwise let your freak flag fly.

Beverly Marsh has been in a happy and committed relationship with six guys for the past seven years. They were her losers. She dared say she knew everything about them. Everything. As to be expected when you’re in your late twenties and you’ve known your partners since around the tender age of thirteen.

From what keeps them up at night, scared, to what they liked in the bedroom. From who they aspire to be, to what their favorite type of cereal is, and everything in between. She especially knew their kinks, and there were a lot of them.

Richie was down for anything but had an affinity for lace. Stan liked to be either completely in control or completely out of control, there was no middle. Mike liked bondage, which was a surprise to everyone. Sweet Ben had a MAJOR praise kink, he loved being told how much of a good boy he is. She’s never been sexual with Eddie, but she had heard (really heard, walls are thin) that Eddie really loves being spanked. With Bill, she thought she knew what he liked. He liked to be in charge and honestly, a little vanilla. She never realized how wrong she was.

Their fearless leader, Big Bill, liked everyone thinking he enjoyed being the ‘top’ or ‘leading’ their sexual rendezvous. He’s been doing it since they first became a couple, even initiated the first time they all had sex together when a pent-up Bill got on his knees in front of Richie during what was supposed to be a movie night. And since it was Richie he got on his knees for, it was game over for everyone.

Bev never thought twice about Bill’s desires or sexual appetites, surely he’d tell them if he wanted anything different, right?

So imagine her surprise when she opened Bill’s laptop to see the raunchiest BDSM website she’s ever seen. Look, she honestly didn’t mean to see it! It’s just her laptop was dead and she needed to type something up for work, and she knew Bill’s laptop didn’t have a passcode on it. Bill hasn’t minded letting the losers use it before, except Richie. Richie was banned after he sharpied a dick by the mousepad. So she didn't think twice when she went into his office to use it. But once she saw it, she couldn’t look away.

Twinkobilteration.com was the name of the site, and oh it so delivered on its name. There were videos, so, so, many videos, but there were also articles written by users. The articles were on ‘how to be a better sub’ and ‘cumming dry’ and she is not a bashful person but some of them made her blush.

She noticed Bill had a user account that her curiosity really got the best of her. BlueSteel was his username, which made her laugh- it sounded like a stripper name, and Bill had bookmarked a few articles. They were right there! How could you expect her not to look?

There was a surprising amount of articles on how to be a better sub, and how to help yourself loosen, and most of the articles…were geared towards bottoms.

Bill had bottomed before, one glorious night Bev had pegged him right on the couch while Ben had watched, but Bill doesn’t bottom often. He tends to take control the moment anything sexual starts happening. Bill has always said he’s had a top preference, but looking at what he’s bookmarked, she’s not sure that's the truth.

After scrolling through the videos and articles, a beautiful plan started to hatch in her brain, one that was going to require help. She knew which two idiots would be up for the job. Thinking about it made her excited but more importantly it made her wet.

A couple of days later Bev finds Stan in his office in their home. It’s Friday evening, and he’s typing away at something on his laptop. He’s been home from work less than an hour, and despite him saying he never brings his work home, he always does.

Whatever he’s working on must be getting to him because he has that furrow in his brow and he’s been pulling at his tie. The first button of his shirt is undone and Bev can see a patch of his expertly waxed chest shining through. Stan doesn’t notice her as she approaches his desk.

It takes her walking behind his chair and rubbing at his shoulders for him to become aware of her presence. Instinctively he leans back into her touch with a, “Hey, Redbird,” and continues to glare at his laptop screen. To her, it just looks like a bunch of numbers, but sometimes to her, Stan too seems like a bunch of numbers.

She runs a hand through his curls, “ Kookie, take a break.”

Stan sighs and presses a kiss to her hand on his shoulder, “I can’t. One of my employees fucked up and I need to fix it. The client is expecting the spreadsheet on Monday.

“So you’re doing this all weekend?” She asks, bemused. Some stupid spreadsheet won’t get in the way of her plan.

“I’m afraid so, Redbird.”

Bev sighs dramatically, “Oh, but I know of a someone you’d rather be doing all weekend.”

The corners of Stan’s mouth twitch up and he spins around in his office chair, yanking her in his lap, causing her to giggle, “Tell me more,” he says as he starts to innocently kiss at the base of her neck.

She tells him her plan, and what she had found on Bill’s laptop. The more she talks, the bigger Stan’s smirk grows. This is why she chose him, he more than appreciates taking control.

Stan kisses her when she’s done. The kiss is filled with excitement and she has half a mind to get her panties off and ride his growing erection against her ass until Stan pulls back abruptly. “Let me finish this tonight and I promise, I’ll be available all day tomorrow.”

Bev smiles and kisses him before crawling off his lap. One idiot secured, now time for the other one.

It’s later in the evening, after dinner when Bev gets to bring it up to Richie. After dinner, the two always go out to their back patio to smoke their evening cigarette. Bev spent the whole dinner thinking about what was going to happen tomorrow. Eddie, Ben, and Mike were going to visit Mike’s grandparents on the farm, and odds are they’d end up spending the night out there. Bill wasn’t going because he had a meeting with his editor in the morning and he assumed that the rest had their own reasons for not going. Poor Big Bill, he has no idea what’s waiting for him when he gets home.

During dinner, Stan had been looking at Bill like he was a delicious dessert, and Bev can empathize. Bill was, as always, oblivious.

She’s only halfway done telling Richie her plan when he stops, “Bev baby, you already know I’m in.”

“Wow, you don’t take much convincing,” she jabs at him with a playful nudge to his shoulder.

Richie takes a deep inhale before stubbing out the rest of his cigarette, “Baby, you could’ve just said ‘Dom Bill’, and I would’ve immediately said yes. I’m sporting a half chub right now just thinking about that.”

“Geeze, always such a slut Trashmouth.”

“And don’t you forget it, Ms. Marsh.”

Bill had a horrible morning. First of all, he woke up alone, which is a feat considering his six lovers. He knew Eddie, Mike, and Ben were leaving at the crackass of dawn, but that didn’t account for the other three. Bev, Stan, and Richie were off…doing something apparently, and they didn’t bother to wake him up to say goodbye! None of them were even morning people (although Stan claims he is, but Bill’s received enough morning death glares he knows that's a lie) so what got them up and out of bed before nine A.M. is a wonder. Whatever it is, it’s obviously more important than Bill.

He can feel the pout forming on his face as he lays in their cold and empty Alaskan bed. If Richie was here he’d make fun of it but if Eddie was here he’d kiss Bill’s forehead till it went away. He hates waking up alone, so much so he’s forgotten how much he did since it’s such a rare occurrence.

After he pulled himself out of bed with a grunt, his morning did not get better. They were all out of Coco Puffs, which reminded him that Richie ate it in dry handfuls the other day they shared a joint. Still salty about it.

And him being him, he forgot to track the time so even though he was up and ready, he was running out the door. Once he was in his car, he realized his manuscript was still on his desk. Great. When he had finally made it to the meeting with his editor, she had given a disapproving scowl. Who does she think she is? His mom? That’s Ben.

He wasn’t surprised when the meeting didn’t go well. She hated his ending and told him to write a whole new one in a week. Bill liked his ending, and so did his losers! That’s honestly all that mattered to him, but when his editor said the publishers weren’t going to publish his book with his current ending, he knew he had lost.

Even though the meeting took place in a quaint café, all he had was a fancy biscuit and more coffee he didn’t need. His nerves were getting him and he was jumpy the whole drive home, wanting nothing more than to curl on the couch and eat delivered pizza, and then tomorrow he would worry about his body image.

It was just after noon when he pulled into their expansive driveway. Stan’s Volvo was there now, unlike this morning, so he must at least be home. That thought alone propelled Bill out of his car. Stan would make him feel better, any of the losers would.

The house was empty when he got inside but that was no surprise. If it's just Stan home, he tended to hole himself away in his office, or outside in their garden.

“Hello?” He asked the stillness from where he stood in the doorway. All the lights were turned off downstairs, the midday light shining in. Toeing off his converser, he went in search of Stan.

Upstairs Stan was sitting behind his desk, just as Bill suspected he would be, and didn’t look surprised at all when Bill showed up in his doorway. “Hi there Bluejay.”

If Bill had to describe Stan’s voice, he’d never be able to do it correctly. Trust him, he’s tried. The best way he can describe it is as cool satin. It’s a type of voice Stan only uses when he’s up to something and already Bill can see him being pushed down onto their bed, and Stan scratching at his chest as he rides Bill into the mattress. He can feel his knees start to go weak as Stan eyes him up and down from where he sits.

Sometimes he wishes Stan would fuck him into the mattress.

“Huh-Hi,” Bill knows he’s blushing, but it’s Stan’s fault. His mere presence has this effect on him.

Stan gets up from his desk and approaches Bill, similarly to how you’d approach a scared animal. Once he’s in range of him, Stan’s hand goes to the side of Bill’s face and gazes into his eyes. He’s up to something, but no matter how hard he searches Stan’s eyes with his own, he can’t find the answer. Stan’s thumb settles on Bill’s lower lip and he has to resist the urge to bite it. Bill doesn’t fit the ‘submissive’ role, even if he so desperately wants to.

Instead, he surges forward to kiss Stan, but he’s quick to grab a fistful of Bill’s hair, stopping him so that their lips are only a centimeter apart. Bill represses a moan. Stan’s looking down at him, studying him and calculating. Out of the losers, Bill is only taller than Eddie and Bev, and moments like this remind him of how short he is. It sends a shiver down Bill’s spine.

When Stan speaks, he can feel his breath brush across his lips, “I was thinking we could do something different Billy.”

Bill smiles up at him, “And wuh-what’s that?” He’s mostly conquered his stutter, but it flares up when he’s frustrated…or hard. Richie has a fun time with that.

Stan kisses his forehead and the hand holding his hair sinks down to scratch his neck. Bill can feel his guard slipping away, and he knows that’s part of whatever plan Stan has concocted, “I was thinking,” he places another kiss on his forehead, “that maybe,” a kiss on the tip of his nose, “that I could top this time,” he finishes, finally kissing Bill on the lips.

He doesn’t respond to the kiss right away, his heart-stopping his chest. Stan has never topped him. He topped Eddie and Richie, Stan especially loves controlling Eddie, but never Bill. Not that Bill doesn’t want him to, he’s had shameful dreams about all the losers topping him at one point, but the only ones that have gotten to were Mike and Richie. Even that didn’t happen all that often. Bev had fun with him one time with a strap, but there hadn’t been a repeat.

It’s just… he’s supposed to be Big Bill, that nickname didn’t go with the word bottom. They all look to him to make sure they’re taken care of, to make sure they’re all happy. During sex, they put him in charge and hand over the control to him. And he loves doing that, he loves his Losers so fucking much, but sometimes, when he’s alone in his office, he imagines what it would be like to be the one who gives up control. The fear is that if they knew that he wanted to be tied down, gagged, even spanked a little, they just wouldn’t see him in the same light. So he stays in control.

Stan pulls back from the kiss after Bill doesn’t respond and looks down worriedly at him, “Is that okay? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” He brushes some of Bill’s stubborn bangs back.

Bill loves Stan so much, and if Stan wants this, who is he to deny him? He hesitates for just another moment before shaking his head, “Okay, you cuh-can t-t-top.” The tips of his ears turn red as he agrees.

The radiant smile Stan gives him is worth his stomach churning with excitement, “Only if you’re sure, Billy.” Bill nods his head again, “Okay, go get ready and meet me in our bedroom,” he parts with a kiss to his hairline.

Now jumpy for a whole other reason, he makes his way to their suite bathroom. Preparing is something he’s only had to do a few times, and while in the shower, he has to painfully ignore his erection. The powerful shower jets on his body don’t help either. As a treat to Stan, he even shaves his nether regions. He’s never let it get unruly down there like Richie, which suits him for some reason, but he also never gets professionally waxed down there as Eddie and Stan do.

He’s a bundle of nerves which is ridiculous because it’s just Stan, but Stan was planning something. After being with him for so many years, he can tell when Stan is up to something. Not being sure on whether or not he should get dressed again, he settles for pulling his boxers back on and heads towards their bedroom.

What he’s not expecting when he opens the door is not only Stan in his boxers but also Bev and Richie, both also only in their underwear. Oh and there’s rope tied to the end of the bed’s headboard and on the nightstand is lube, a cockring, and vibrator that he knows is new. Suddenly he feels very faint.

“Billiam, are you there?” Richie walked closer to him, he hadn’t even noticed that, let alone the fact he was talking.

Swallowing the lump in his throat he nods, contemplating dashing out the bedroom door to lock himself away in his office.

Bev must sense this because she comes and puts herself in his space, her delicate hands resting on his shoulders, he looks down at her, apprehensive. “Bill baby, can we talk?” With no context it seems like such a simple request, except the fact that he can see Richie and Stan over her shoulder, both looking like they’re ready to devour him. He shakily nods his head and some of the tension leaves Bev’s shoulders, “You know, you’re really dumb sometimes,” she giggles, “I went up to borrow your laptop the other day and you’ll never believe what I saw on your computer screen.”

It feels like the bottom of his stomach has fallen through. Shit. How can he be so stupid? God, and it’s Bev that found that site, so he knows she snooped through it.

Bev can see the panic bubbling in his eyes and she's quick to fix it, “Hey hey,” she runs a gentle hand through his hair, “It’s a good thing I saw it, baby.”

“...Really?” he questions quietly.

Richie appears at his side, towering over him and running his fingers down Bill’s back, “Billy boy I was hard as a rock when Bev told me.”

Stan appears at his other side, “Trust us, you’re not pulling our arm for this, we want this,” and then almost as an after fault he adds on, “Also, Bill baby, of course, you would be the one to leave your secret porn site open,” he giggles. Bill blushes furiously at that.

“Are you suh-sure? You guh-guys want t-this?” He has to ask because this seems almost too good to be true.

They all nod at him, each one of them touching him, grounding him, in some way. “Will you let us do this for you? Will you hand over your control to us, just for tonight?” Bev asks.

A tiny “Yes” slips from his lips and Richie and Bev head back towards the bed, Stan takes Bev’s place in front of him.

He tries to see what the disaster duo are doing but Stan keeps his attention on him, “Before we begin we need to set some ground rules. First you are to address us as ‘Sir’ and ‘Ma’am’, no exceptions,” the rules alone are making him start to become hard, God. Stan continues, “Secondly you have to wait to cum till we give you permission, again- no exceptions. Thirdly and most importantly, we will be using the stoplight system, are you aware of it?”

Yes, he’s aware of it, he’s read enough articles on it. His nod isn’t sufficient though as Stan stars down at him, eyebrows raised. It clicks in Bill’s brain, “Yes S-sir.”

Stan looks quite pleased, “ Good boy. Just to make sure, tell me what the stoplight system is.”

“Guh-green is for g-good, yellow is for slo-slow down, and red is for stuh-stop.”

“Do NOT be afraid to red us, baby,” Richie interjects from behind Stan, “This is a learning process for all of us and it’s supposed to be fun. Please red us if you get uncomfortable.” Bill loves that Trashmouth so much.

“Yes Sir,” already saying that is becoming second nature. He’s so fucking hard.

Bev comes back to him, now completely naked and her fiery red hair pinned up behind her head. She grabs his hand with a smile and leads him past Stan towards the bed. With her urging he slowly sinks down onto it, staring intently up at her. “I’m going to tie your arms up now baby, let me know if it’s too tight.”

She guides him into crawling back on the bed so that his head lays in the pillows. Bev crawls on him so that she’s straddling his chest, and he can briefly feel how wet she is when she brushes past him. He lets her manipulate his arms as she pulls them over his head, crossing his wrists. As she ties the knot, briefly he wonders if Stan had shown her how to, he was a boy scout after all.

“Test that for me, would you baby?” she asks when she pulls away. He pulls on his restraint and is incredibly aroused when he realizes he has nowhere to go. Bev is pleased with her handiwork. “Good good, now color?”

“Gruh-green ma’am.”

She caresses his face, “Such a good boy, Billy. Now let’s begin.” she tells him as she clamors off of him. He immediately misses the heat of her body.

Bev goes to Stan, who pulls her into a filthy kiss. Both their eyes will glance over at him, both of them getting excited from seeing their fearless leader tied up. A very naked Richie appears between Bill’s legs, lustfully looking down at him and holding the cock ring he spotted earlier.

Bill feels pinned there under Richie’s eyes and suddenly becomes very self-conscious of his body, which is rare for him. He wouldn’t say he’s overweight by any means, but he’s gotten a little soft. What was once a six-pack, toned thighs, and a bubble butt from his glorious years of baseball in high school and college, have all collected a little bit of pudge he's accumulated in his late twenties. He doesn’t realize he’s squeezing his thighs together, subconsciously trying to conceal himself until Richie grips his muffin top waist.

“None of that, we want to see you. Don’t try to hide from us,” He commands.

Somehow he manages to blush even more, he feels a lot like Ben, and nods his head, “Yes Sir.”

Richie seems satisfied with this and continues. An involuntary whimper escapes his lips as Richie secures the ring snug around the base of Bill’s very hard cock.

Richie sniggers, “Wouldn’t want you to have too much too quickly now would we Billy?” Richie looks over at Stan and Bev, still lip-locked, “Hey lovebirds! Get over here! I’m about to do something delicious.” Bill yelps as Richie suddenly twists him over, so that he’s face down in the pillows.

Instinctively he tugs at his restraints, but it’s no use. He’s able to pull and push himself up so he rests on his elbows, and looks back over his shoulder. Bev goes to straddle his back but faces towards Richie from where he’s still between Bill’s legs. It gives him a very nice view of her plush ass. Stan has knelt beside his head, his hard dick bobbing as he gets comfortable. He really wants to lick the pearly tip of Stan’s cock, he just can’t reach it.

He’s so distracted by Stan’s cock that when a sudden tongue laves over his hole, he whelps and flinches, causing his head to almost hit the headboard. Stan runs a soothing hand through his hair, “Are you okay?”

“Yes Suh-Sir,” And that is all the permission Richie needs before grabbing two big handfuls of his thighs and pulling them further apart so that he can delve back into him with his tongue.

Bill’s eaten ass before, plenty of times, but every time one of his lovers has offered to return the favor, he’s denied it. It always felt like it put him in too vulnerable of a position. But, God, does he regret that now. Richie is ruthless. His tongue flexes to penetrate the first ring of muscle but every time Bill tries to push back, Richie relaxes his tongue and only broadly licks the surface of his hole, it’s infuriating. He can’t even see Richie when he looks over his shoulder because Bev is still straddling his back.

“Ruh-Ruh-Richie,” he whimpers. That only earns him a quick smack on his ass. A light one but it still knocks the wind out of him. This is new.

“Baby what did Stan tell you?” Bev chides. Her hand runs soothingly across where she smacked him.

Bill gulps, feeling a little dumb, “To cuh-cuh-call y’all Suh-Sir or M-M-Ma’am.”

“You should spank him again Bev, I think he likes it,” Stan tells her. Bill’s eyes snap over to him and wantonly moans at the sight of Stan stroking his own cock, so close yet so far from his mouth.

“You think so, baby? While I spank him, why don’t you give him something to keep his mouth busy.” Oh, Bill really, really, wants that.

Stan smirks at her as he grabs a fistful of Bill’s hair and guides his dick closer to his lips. “Here ya go Baby Boy.”

If Bill was more spaced out, which he has a feeling he will be by the end of this, he would’ve squealed with delight as he took the tip of Stan’s dick in his mouth. He licks at the tip, enjoying the salty taste. Stan holds his hair but for the most part, lets Bill do as he pleases as he sucks him off.

Bev starts scattering spanks around the flesh of his ass once Stan’s cock is in his mouth. This causes him to moan, sending vibrations up Stan’s cock. “Fuck,” Stan moans as his hips accidentally buck up, causing his cock to slip down his throat. He wishes he’d do it again.

Richie is full-on fucking Bill’s ass with his tongue now, getting riled up by listening to the sound of Bev’s hand make Bill’s ass blush a pretty red, and Stan trying to control himself as Bill sucks on his dick, almost as a self-soothing measure from everything happening. It’s mainly Bill that gets Richie riled up though, replacing his tongue with his middle finger. Bev passes him the lube, and soon a second and third finger join the first. Eventually he finds his sweet spot and Bill sees stars as Richie brushes against his prostate over and over.

Bill is a wreck already between the three of them. When he tries to push back on Richie’s thick fingers, Bev smacks him harder, which is just an incentive to do it again. When Bev smacks him, that then causes him to gag on Stan’s cock. It’s like he’s trapped in this endless cycle of pleasure, and he loves it. He has no choice but to lay here and take the pleasure they’re giving him and it almost makes him tear up. It also is making his head start to go fuzzy.

Richie’s voice is rough, the quality it gets when he’s really turned on, “I know we were going to tease him for a while with the vibrator, but I really want to see this pretty little ass get fucked.”

Stan laughs tightly, “Always quick to jump the gun aren’t you, Trashmouth?”

He scoffs back, “What? You don’t want fuck this pert ass right now?” Richie punctuates his question with a slap to Bill’s ass, harder than Bev’s, who giggles at the sight.

Stan hums in compilation, before pulling Bill off his cock completely. “What do you say Billy Boy? You want me to fuck you?”

He wants that more than anything right now. In fact, he feels like if he doesn’t get a dick up his ass right now, he’s going to explode. “Yes Sir!”

Stan doesn’t move yet, “Color?” Bill looks up at him incredulously and Stan just looks very amused, so he asks again, “Color baby?”

Bill resists an eye roll, “Gruh-Green!”

He can feel Richie move out from between his legs as Stan stands up off the bed. “Wait, let's flip him back over, I want to ride him as you fuck him,” Bev says Stan crawls back on the bed near Bill’s legs. Richie again flips him over.

Bill’s cock lays against his stomach, curving upwards. Because of the cock ring, his head is purple and he doesn’t think he’s ever been this hard in his life. He needs to cum. Bev, his darling angel, one of the loves of his life, comes to his rescue.

“Since this is your first time, I’m not going to make you wear this anymore,” she removes that awful ring from the base of his cock.

Richie groans, “You’re going too easy on him, Bevie!”

“Beep beep Trashmouth, or next time I’ll use it on you,” she scolds, bringing him into a kiss. Richie smiles into the kiss because, yes, he likes that idea very much.

After thoroughly fucking Bev’s mouth with his tongue, leaving them both out of breath, he takes his spot by Bill’s head where Stan was. He immediately offers his dick up to be Bill, who more than obliges. It helps distract him as the tight heat of Beverly sinks down on him. At the same time, the hot press of Stan’s cock starts to push inside.

Stan groans out a ‘Fuck’, when he gets fully sheathed in him, and pulls Bill’s knees over his shoulders for a better angel. Bill steals a glance over and sees that Bev’s back is facing him again, and is kissing Stan as she rides him. Stan grunts into her mouth as he picks up his pace. It’s strangely erotic.

Sucking Richie’s dick is different from sucking Stan’s. Mainly because Richie takes control, grabbing two fistfuls of Bill’s hair and forcing his cock down his throat. They all love Bill’s lack of gag reflex. Bill relaxes and lets his body be used as a human fleshlight.

At three different points of stimulation, he starts to feel fuzzy. Everything feels amazing. Stan’s dick is ramming continuously into his prostate. Bev moans as Stan rubs at her clit while she rides Bill’s cock. Richie is fucking Bill’s throat like there's no tomorrow and Bill knows he’s going to have a hoarse voice after this and even the thought of that feels good.

Sweat has broken out across their skins, and it all drips down onto Bill. It’s so hot in the room. The sounds of wet skin slapping across skin and Richie’s dirty talk fills the room. Who Richie’s talking to he’s not sure, he’s too busy feeling like he’s a balloon starting to float up and away.

He wants to focus on every little sensation happening to him but it’s all melted into this pot of ooey-gooey goodness. His skin feels like it’s on fire, but in a non-burning way. He feels so good that his writer brain can’t even find the right words to describe it.

Something warm splashes on his face and he thinks that Richie has just come. His mouth falls obediently open as Richie scoops the sticky substance off his face and feeds it to him.

Honestly, he had completely forgotten about the need to cum or his achingly hard cock until Richie’s hand came to rest lightly over his throat, putting the barest of pressure. His orgasm rips through him so hard and so suddenly he blacks out.

The moment Bill came, he seized up so hard around Stan that he practically squeezed the orgasm out of him. Seeing both boys cum was Bev’s tipping point too.

All of them pant heavily, except for Bill who is blissfully passed out, but Stan gets back in control. He’s done his own research, primarily about aftercare. “Richie, go start a warm bath, use the Eucalyptus oils Bill likes.”

“Aye aye captain!” Richie mockingly salutes him before heading to the bath, not caring enough to pull his boxers back on.

Bev looks at Stan amused, that lovely little smile of hers he loves so much playing on her lips, “Anything order for me sir? ”

Stan lovingly rolls his eyes, “Yes. I cut some fruit, will you go get them and water bottles for us? And then meet us back in the bathroom.” The bathtub they have, and the one that Richie is currently filling up, is more like a hot tub, so it will easily accommodate the four of them. Hell, all seven losers have gotten in at the same time before.

She giggles and sprints out the door, but not before smacking Stan on the ass.

Stan looks at Bill, whose eyelids are fluttering, and sighs. He grabs the lotion out of their nightstand and unties Bill, rubbing healing lotion on his wrists. Bill starts to stir more, “Stuh-Stan?”

“Hey baby, I’m right here. Richie’s about to come in here and pick you up and we’re going to take a nice soothing bath together okay? You deserve it after being such a good boy.”

“Oh-okay,” he says. Stan thought Bill was done talking, and just letting Stan rub the lotion in when he spoke again, “I bruh-broke rule nu-n-n-number two. I’m suh-sorry,” He sounds way too remorseful and Stan can let that be.

He presses a kiss to Bill’s forehead, “Don’t be sorry Billy, you were perfect.”

A/N: Sorry for the delay! Work was more hectic this week than I thought so I didn't get a chance to post this until today.

From the moment I read that prompt I was like "Ah yes, the losers will Dom Bill" because I feel like Bill is usually the one who is expected to be the 'dom' or the 'top' so I had fun putting him a different role. But the "BDSM" part turned out more loving and soft than I intended it too, but Bill deserves it anyways. Also for certain context, a favorite headcannon of mine and Pj's is Bill with a soft tummy and thighs, so I obliviously had to add it in this fic

Thank you for the prompt Ren! And thank you Pj for proofreading this story!

I hope you guys enjoy!

#PLC Fic Exchange Vol.4 #polylosers #poly losers club #bill denbrough #stan uris #stanley uris #beverly marsh #richie tozier #bichie #stozier #bevchie #stenbrough #stanbrough #stanverly #billverly #it 2 #it chap 2 #it 2017

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itseivwhore · 3 years

Text

°•Of Protection and Runes°•

I don't know how to start this post HAHAHAHAHAAH.

But SÌ, contrary to people's belief, no, I'm not dead...but my account is: well, WAS, and this kind of little contest (??I don't know how to name it,apologies) truly encouraged me to resurrect this dead blog. And also and most of all it gave me the "final kick in the ass" I needed to start writing again. I was talking with my friend some days ago and I was just telling her how much I miss writing, and this just came in the perfect timing.

This is for the 2nd of October: Runes. (I KNOW today isn't the 2nd and it's WAY later BUT, better later than ever I say).

Oh and just for the sake of the warning, this will be a male Eivor × fem reader. (lord I have been wanting to write about him since AGES, so I'm truly happy that I finally have something to write about. I'm so in love with this writetober)

Hope you like it as much as I do! Some reviews would be so much appreciated honestly: this is the first time ever I write about Eivor, and I just hope that, even if in this little shot, I managed to 'capture' him well ;( Let me know!

°•°••°•°••°•°••°

The only perceptible sound in that quiet, large room was the gentle crackling of the fire burning in the fireplace. Its long, reddish tongues danced sinuously and quickly, casting strange shadows on the wooden walls, followed by his attentive but at the same time distracted gaze; the embers, together with her body tiredly lying on his, gave off a welcoming warmth.

Her words still persisted strongly in his mind: pants, heavy breaths, muffled moans of pleasure and fragments of words whispered with effort and passion still hovered in the atmosphere, almost as if they were slowly fading away with the fire, but remaining imprinted in his heart like a seal.

His blue eyes wandered around the small room, moving from the living flames of the fire to its shadows that now, instead, reflected on her naked body, caressing with his fingers the same paths they took on her features: gently and slowly he moved his fingertips over her hips, tracing a long line down her back, drawing circles and imaginary designs, tracing a passage between her shoulders and along her arms.

Her hands and chin, however, rested on his broad chest, face turned up to watch Eivor's pensive gaze. Her e/c eyes never left his blue ones, following their every movement, watching their every change, seeing the warm fire reflected in his chilling eyes; pressing her bare breasts more to his torso, she let her head fall onto his chest and let the slow beat of his heart lull her.

She opened her mouth, a mere attempt to break that heavy and deafening silence, but the words died on her parted lips, slightly frowning her eyebrows: she hoped, silently prayed that their gazes, at last, might cross and meet, unite. But she could clearly see a thick veil of worry and confusion clouding his mind and obscuring his own deep-set eyes.

She knew the reason for this fear: the journey he would have to undertake the next morning. The same journey that would take him far from his homeland, hurling him into a new and unknown land, where he could find wealth and glory, or misery and misfortune, his own ruin: the same journey that would take him away from her.

She had no doubts about Eivor's abilities and willingness of spirit, nor did she doubt Sigurd's ambitious promises and tales, nor could she blame two ardent and eager souls like those of the two brothers. Nevertheless, she could do nothing, she knew all too well how strong the bond between the brothers was and he knew that Eivor would follow Sigurd everywhere.

She was incapable of acting against the will of the warrior and, above all, she did not want to change it: she wanted his destiny to be fulfilled. But, at the same time, she wanted to be part of it, she aspired to be an integral part in it.

"Eivor..." the silence, which until now had reigned supreme between them, was suddenly broken by her calm, low voice, his name only a murmur among the crackling fire.

Eivor, hearing himself called, turned his head in her direction, looking down, finally meeting the young woman's bright eyes; his hand stopped running down her body, stopping on one of her hips, giving it a gentle squeeze. A small and, to say the least, imperceptible smile raised the corners of his mouth as his composed, stern gaze softened more and more as he observed her.

Instead, the young woman reached out her hand slightly, resting it on his bearded cheek, sharing his smile when she saw the way he leaned on her soft, smooth and welcoming touch, seeing how he sighed before closing his eyes for some moments. After that, he took her hand in his and, closing it, brought it close to his mouth, pressing his lips to the back of her small hand for endless moments, indulging in her skin.

He didn't stop giving her his gentle, calm smile as his hands caressed her body and as his eyes searched for that strange glow in the melancholic gaze of his beloved. He watched her carefully with an apprehensive gaze, waiting for her to express herself, tacitly trying to perceive what was stopping her so much.

But, in his heart as well as hers, he knew what the reason was.

"I fear..." Y/n began suddenly, syllables spoken in a trembling, dim voice, inaudible except by him alone as he continued to clasp one of her hands in his.

He knew. He already knew. He would never have allowed her to say another word if it would have meant a huge effort from his lover and caused her further unnecessary pain.

"Do not." Eivor interrupted her in a low, deep tone and with raspy voice, leaving another kiss on the back of her hand. "I know" there was no need to add more. Their eyes spoke to each other in unspoken ways.

"This is enough for me" the drengr continued in a soft and soothing voice, as sooth and delicate as silk, the same silk that seemed to flow gently over her skin as his touch wandered all over her body; conviction and firmness resonated in his quiet voice as he rested his back on the wooded headboard of the bed, leaning against it, sighing slightly.

But in spite of the firmness in the young man's tone and in spite of the determination and authority, worry, doubt and anguish mixed with a poignant feeling of helplessness got the better of her.

"I want...I need more" Y/n admitted, her dim voice trembling with a strong desire that, impossible and unattainable, could only come true when she closed her eyes.

Needing more time, more moments, more words, more whispers, more smiles, more of him, more of them together.

In the modest room there was once again a deadly silence: the walls were no longer warmly lit by the fire, which was dying in a pile of ashes amid the glowing embers; small reddish sparks were slowly being moved through the air by the wind coming from the half-open window; no shadow of the flames of that passionate fire enveloped the two lovers anymore. All was silent. All was still.

They continued to look at each other intently for endless, eternal moments, letting the deafening silence speak, scream and confess for them.

Slowly, the young woman took her hands away from the larger ones of him and placed them both on his broad chest. His gaze became confused as she began to drag one of her fingers over the place of his heart, as if she were writing, drawing, carving something on it: his curious, deep blue eyes carefully followed every line she drew on his pale skin, making him shiver.

A genuine smile filled with infinite gratitude formed on the Viking's lips as he recognised the runes she had imaginatively 'carved' into his chest, into his heart.

Y/n leaned forward, leaving a trail of delicate, chaste and sweet kisses on his bare chest; tracing once more with her fingers what she had written, she continued to kiss him on his neck, from cheek to lips, from lips to ear. And, pausing near it, she whispered to him:

"May this protect you, and bring you back to me" and this wish, this special prayer resonated in echoes in the man's mind, thus sealing those runes branded into his skin and etched into his heart.

"We will have more" Eivor murmured, bringing one of his hands to his chest; his tone full of a promise that Y/n knew would be kept, honoured and respected in due time. His blue eyes became overflowing with a renewed hope and happiness as he distinguished and recognized that vibrant sparkle in her e/c ones he loved so much.

Neither of them spoke, neither made a single sound. To be there at that moment, in each other's arms, smiling and observing each other, remembering as many details as possible about each other and keeping them in their minds; to be there to remember and keep those pure, genuine and unique feelings and those fiery, passionate moments soaked, burnt and sealed into their hearts; to be there to kiss and to unite their bodies as well as their souls, to praise all the Gods and to pray together on each other's mouths and skins. To be there and to live, to be there in that moment and to continue, not begin, their destiny that would undoubtedly continue to intertwine.

And this all was enough.

That was enough for the both of them.

For now.

77 notes · View notes

beneathashadytree · 3 years

Note

HI I SAW YOUR REQUESTS WERE OPEN but but basically i’ve has this in my head for a hot minute but basically y/n lives at an orphanage and her parents were villains (now caught ofc) she goes to ua and stuff and she has a powerful quirk ( like elemental or something and she can control weather as well) and when endeavor saw her at the sport festival and told shoto to start talking to her bcs he wants them to have a quirk marrige but then over time he actually starts liking her for her but doesn’t want a quirk marrige but then at kamino ward it gets revealed that her parents are 2 really powerful villains YOU CAN CCHOOSE HOW IT GOES AFTER THAT BUT IM IN LOV E WITH THIS IDEA

CHILDHOOD SWEETHEART (PART 1) - SHOTO TODOROKI X READER

Warnings : one or two cuss words, both Shoto and the reader are 15 until the last part where they are both 23, the last part is slightly suggestive (blink and you'll miss it), reader is female!

Genre : fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

Word count : 11.2K words (holy shit)

Synopsis : Sometimes, fate wills it that two similar souls entwine.

Additional notes : God, I wrote so much for this it's insane. Your request was my favorite of all time! Since Tumblr has a paragraph limit, I had to divide this into parts; this is the first part. Thank you so much for requesting, and I'd love to hear your review!

Click here to read part 2

Click here to read part 3

Requests : Are open! Check the rules over here.

Want to support me financially? Here’s my CashApp!

Masterlist

For someone who had no proper home to return to, it was nothing short of a let-down once school hours were over and no excuses could hold her off in the facility.

It wasn't an ideal life for someone who aspired to become a pro-hero---as a matter of fact, she thought it was rather laughable how ironic the entire situation of her existence was. Hero-to-be by day, come night she'd be trudging back to the orphanage. How could she save other people when she couldn't even find a better suited place to stay?

Curse the law for restricting her movements before turning 18. She was stuck at the orphanage for as long as it would have her; for as long as she was deemed a minor who couldn't do without a guardian. And in cases like hers, when the lack of parents to take care of her was made apparent, all she could do was patiently wait for the day she'll be able to seek a life other than the one between 4 walls.

But still; at the very least, the current situation was far better than the one she'd started out with---a pathetic child who'd had nothing to her name and not a single person to turn to, stuck in a drab building that barely kept her alive due to severe lack of funding and the fact that, frankly, no one gave a shit about the kids under their care.

It was only when her quirk had manifested (seemingly out of the blue) did she finally have eyes peering at her with curiosity. The little orphan who'd never had much to say was suddenly shocking the negligent adults with her ability to change the weather at will. Though potentially destructive, her quirk hadn't been a loose canon for long, seeing as she'd never lost control that many times, and the affected field wasn't too vast---at best, she could affect the surrounding three blocks.

All of a sudden, all the grown-ups who'd taken turns to ignore her existence for the most part were always pressing in on her, hushed mutterings filling up the room with the cracked ceiling and faded wallpaper. With nothing but a disinterested look on her face and the tapping of her fingers as the hail she'd summoned pelted against the cracked windows, she would sit and watch as they inspected her like a lab rat, unable to complain---and, in all honesty, not wanting to bother to either.

The loud whispers soon developed into almost-cries of shock and surprise, and yet she never questioned it. She never even batted an eye as the glances sent her way turned into glares of scrutiny, blinking up at them with the same tiredness and sloth that she'd always had in regards of other's peering into her life.

In fact, she didn't even pose a single question when she found herself being unceremoniously kicked out of the orphanage at the crack of dawn, having been told that this would become a regular occurence since she was to begin her studies at UA High.

At the mere age of 15 and practically estranged from the only place she could even remotely associate with the word 'home', she was thrust into a world full of heroes fighting villains using so called 'Quirks', when all she'd ever known was the fact that her abilities were what alienated her. And yet, she still didn't pose any questions; not even when she was directly told by the principal (who eerily resembled the mole she'd once befriended in her dorm at the orphanage) that the world's greatest hero, the Symbol of Peace, had been the one to personally recommend her.

All she did was nod and comply, preparing herself with nothing more than a schoolbag and a notebook that was paired with some stationery that looked far too old to even be usable anymore. It was actually quite alarming; the way she didn't seem to care about anything thrown her way, but given the circumstances she'd grown up in, it was no wonder to her caretakers that this was the attitude she'd adopted.

And then, fate willed it that she be in the infamous Class 1-A that housed the brilliant students who seemed to be dousing themselves in trouble on the daily. Wherever they went---even if under the great All Might's watchful eye and Aizawa sensei's stern glare---problems always seemed to follow, and the number of times they'd narrowly escaped the clutches of villains was frightening.

For someone with a Quirk like hers, it wasn't all too difficult to control---that was the case with most elemntal Quirks. Training diligently without a single complaint, her mere presence irked a few certain heros who were hell-bent on proving their superiority over all else. It might not have seemed like she was doing much to irritate them, but proud people like Todoroki and Bakugou were goal-oriented to the bone. Her silence contradicted her booming loud Quirk, the storms that followed the activation more than just mildly conspicuous.

And though Deku was just as (if not even more) determined to best his peers, he had a far more demure nature and found it rather easy to become friends with any person, no matter how stand-offish they seemed. The boy's warmth was infectious, and she wasn't immune to his friendly charm. Bit by bit, she found herself relaxing into easy smiles and casual conversation with him, and, by turn, she found herself integrated in his group after the other 3 (whom she discovered were called Tsui, Ochaco, and Tenya) welcomed her with open arms.

She could see from this position how desperate the freckled boy was to gain the affections of Todoroki and Bakugou, and she found herself particularly intrigued by the situation, wondering how it would end up playing out.

Her thoughts and concerns about that had taken a backseat after the repeated assaults on the school had distracted her from trivialities such as failed friendships. After the League of Villains' attack at the USJ, things had taken a far more sinister turn for her to concern herself with things like that. It became a battle of wits and powers, one that she was dead-set on seeing through. More taxing trainings ate away at her energy, but the fatigue always paid off when a particularly strong storm would bring about what would resemble Kaminari's Quirk being multiplied a hundred times.

***

Young girls didn't typically find themselves in the middle of stadium grounds, seemingly fighting for their lives with nothing but their natural-born abilities to fend off the incoming attacks while lashing at their opponent, but that was the case, seeing as the sports festival was an inevitable event that the school held in high regards. For the first time in quite a while, the fact that it was being held at such a glum time had garnered a reaction from her.

"What are you guys' thoughts on the Sports Festival being held right now?" Iida had asked them over lunch one day, earning thoughtful looks from the group of friends.

"I mean, isn't it only natural?" Tsui had shrugged, "It's practically UA tradition."

The brunette beside her had been frowning, "Well yeah, but these aren't normal circumstances, Tsu."

"But Ochaco, wouldn't that make it more logical for them to carry on with the event?" Izuku had thoughtfully asked through mouthfuls of chicken, "To keep everyone calm, you know?"

"That doesn't make it any less irresponsible of them to go on with it," they'd all turned to the girl who scarcely offered strongly opinionated words, listening intently with looks of understanding on their faces, "It's very likely we'll get infiltrated again, and with all these people gathered in one place it would ensure bloodshed."

With a grimace, the younger Iida had agreed, and they'd all pitched in with a chorus of dejected 'yeah's and 'I guess so's.

And despite her clear stance on the subject, she still found herself in that terrible position days later, suit half-ripped to shreds, hair all frizzy from the extensive electric charges she'd been forcing out, fiercely gritting her teeth as she focused on sending out lightning bolts that aimed only to stun and not to seriously harm. Controlling the charge while also trying to shape the hail descending from her storm cloud into makeshift icicles certainly was far from easy, and the gale she'd created was only just holding up and protecting her from her opponent, a kind red-haired boy from her class who could harden his body---there couldn't have been a worse match up, seeing as he specialized in close combat, while she excelled in long range attacks.

She couldn't find it in her heart to maim him seriously (though she easily could with nothing more than a flick of her finger), and her attempts to regain control of her Quirk every few seconds meant that she'd been far more vulnerable than she would've liked for several moments at a time, enabling Kirishima's jagged skin to slam into her repeatedly as she faltered. She was probably worse for wear than he was, really.

As his fist collided with her stomach when she'd paused her attacks yet again, she found herself teetering off the edge, eyes widening as the soles of her shoes caught on the concrete frame of the arena.

"I can't lose. Not yet," she gasped at the brute force of his punch, groaning out loud as she almost curled into a ball in pain, continuing the thought silently in her head, 'Not when All Might's been pushing to give my life meaning, for some unspoken reason.'

With steely resolve and a hardened gaze, she met Kirishima's stunned expression as he watched her tumble back into the middle arena.

"Sorry," he sheepishly said, before resetting his stance, "No hard feelings, yeah?"

Furrowing her eyebrows, she nodded after a beat of hesitation, "You said it."

Before he could even register the foreshadowing behind her words, she'd slammed him with a wall of sleet slamming into his back from behind, having distracted him enough to the ominous cloud that had formed above him.

His eyes grew comically wide for a second or two as the force of the hit shattered his hardening with a sickening crunch, crimson blood dripping onto the sand under his feet. Taking his vulnerability as a chance, the girl struck him with a small zap of lightning twice, earning an uproar from the crowd that had previously been lightly gasping. The voltage was enough to knock him out without causing any permanent damage, and he slumped backwards, falling onto his heavily bleeding back outside the arena.

Silently bowing in apology to her unconscious classmate, a frown that looked rather sad etched onto her face, she limped out of the arena, her own injuries hindering her. She was far too preoccupied with getting herself to Recovery Girl to hear Present Mic's announcement of her victory amidst the overzealous cheers of the crowd, and far too busy to notice that a certain flame hero had been watching her keenly the entire time, eyes trained on her calculatingly.

***

"Shoto, I have a question for you."

The booming voice had interrupted his walk to the break room, and the boy's irritation towards his father grew.

"What is it?"

Choosing to ignore his son's irate tone, he crossed his arms.

"Who was that girl?" it sounded more like a demand than a question, "The one who beat the boy with the hardening quirk."

"Why are you asking?" something akin to a sneer formed on Shoto's face, as though a putrid smell had reached his nose, "Weren't you the one who told me to never mind any others aside from myself?"

Todoroki Enji stilled, feeling his fury rise in him, and the flames around him flickered. That only fueled Shoto's disgust, and the man forced himself to calm down for the sake of his purpose.

He went on to give a half-assed explanation, "She's extremely powerful. Her quirk handles long distance combat very well, and her range of attacks vary with every move. She can apparently change minor details about her Quirk, like voltage or shape."

"What's it to you, then?" his son asked, his verbal aggression not letting up, even though his expression remained as stoic as ever, "If you want to take her on for the hero agency internships coming up, then I hope you know I couldn't care less."

Locking his jaw as his own temper began to rise, Endeavor's eyebrows furrowed, "I told you I'm taking you on. That's besides the point," he paused, before realizing that it was far too difficult to con his child into thinking it was an innocent question, "Shoto, do you know what Quirk marriages are?"

Without even realizing it, the young hero-in-training had begun to emit steam at the very mention of the term. His anger created stagnant heat waves, and his gritted teeth were anything but a trick of the light.

"Yeah, like the one you forced mother into," his voice dripped venom as he stared at his father with all the hatred his heterochromatic eyes could carry, the intensity of the raw emotion so startling it might've even flustered the redhead.

"Quirk marriages are important, to create better lineage. Look at yourself---"

"Do not," Shoto snapped, "Mention that vile tradition around me. I don't want to hear it."

At that point, his patience had finally worn thin at his son's insolence, and his voice hardened, an almost-threatening aura to his words, "You will talk to that girl, and you will get into a Quirk marriage. That's an order I give, as your father---"

"Fantastic job you've done your entire life, father," his sarcasm as he began to turn away from him didn't slip by Enji, and his fists clenched as they burst into flames at the young boy's rebellion against him.

"How's your mother been, Shoto?"

The words halted him in his tracks, and he narrowed his eyes at him.

With a smirk, knowing that he now had his full attention, Endeavor crossed his arms, "You wouldn't want your rights to visit her revoked, now, would you?"

If looks could kill, then the fifteen year-old would've long buried his father six feet under. A flicker of heat danced across his fist as he glared up at the man with as much despise as he could muster.

"If you still want to see Rei this weekend, you should probably do as I say."

"You're despicable," his son spat out, trembling as he tried to rein in his emotions, whereas his father only began to take his leave.

The man shook his head as his footsteps echoed down the hallway, "It's for your own good, you know."

"I hope you rot in hell," he had growled, trying to snuff out the flames that had escaped his heated palm, but Enji had already left.

His uncharacteristic riling up had all been for naught. His father's word was law, because he always had some sort of insurance.

***

The hours had crept by, and the days the first years had spent at school merged into weeks. The breeze of youth kissed their faces, and much to Shoto's chagrin, he didn't even get to enjoy that in the slightest. How was he to relish in the daily happenings at school and the antics of his new friends when he was far too busy being pushed around and puppeteered like he was no older than a toddler clutched in his father's palm?

It was torturous, and he couldn't find a single positive aspect about the fact he'd been beguiled to accept due to his father's terms. If he'd loathed his father before, then he now wished above all that he'd drop dead before him. He wasn't a particularly malicious guy, but his father's antics, even if he had his best interest in consideration, were far too foul to allow him to harbor any goodwill towards him.

Subconsciously, his disdain began to slip into the conversations he tried to bear with and have with the girl. Once he'd gotten past the point of intrigue caused by her elemental Quirk, he found himself growing more and more hostile towards her internally, and the fact that he couldn't express his anger had him detesting himself even more---because, really; what had the girl ever done to him?

As a matter of fact, if his head had been any clearer, he would've gotten over the initial disgruntlement and realized that she was rather pleasant company. Rarely ever being loud, keeping to herself most of the time, pushing onwards to better herself, and somehow still maintaining a content smile and happy demeanor around her friend group---if he had pondered the idea for a couple more minutes, he would've come to realize that they had far more in common than he'd originally thought.

Perhaps his father had been insightful for once, or perhaps it was sheer dumb luck, but eitherways, she still made her presence sweet and grounding. If anything, she seemed like the perfect match for him, and she seemed to have a semblance of self-preservation, unlike most of his classmates (don't get him wrong; he'd gotten rather fond of them recently, but he'd never be able to handle their rambunctious selves for prolonged periods of time).

The girl herself had probably detected his dislike for her, even though he'd maintained the niceties between them, and often tried to begin small talk with her. Midoriya had integrated him into their odd little group, so it was impossible to evade her. Still, she'd probably picked up on his contempt, seeing as he'd never once seemed to care more than he should've superficially. It was---at best---a forced acquaintance, far off from being a camaraderie.

But then it was lunchtime sometime before their internships were to start, when the talk had shifted to families. Iida was rather unnaturally quiet, and though everyone had noticed, no one dared speak. He didn't seem like the type of guy who'd want to overshare, and Shoto knew, more than anyone, how sensitive that topic in particular was to broach.

"What about you, Tsu? You get along with your folks fine?" Ochaco was leaning her head on her hand, watching her friend nod from across the table.

"Yeah, and they're busy most of the time, so I'm the one in charge of my brother and sister since they're younger," the girl gave a rather sad-sounding ribbit, "I miss them a bunch. I barely get to see them now that we're so busy having study sessions."

"Aww, it's alright, Tsu, you'll see them soon," Deku tried to comfort her, a gentle smile on his face, "We're just a bit cramped now, with tests coming up."

The girl Shoto had been tasked with courting was called for, and she was snapped out of whatever daydream to look at her friends who smiled at her expectantly. He only watched with mild interest mixing in his otherwise-neutral expression.

"And you, what about your family?"

After a moment, she shrugged, "I don't know."

"Rocky relationship?" Iida's voice was tentative and small, to which she only shook her head.

"I don't know because they're not with me anymore."

Her friends blinked for a few seconds, before mass panic spread among them. Even Shoto found himself feeling rather taken aback, and shamefully noted to himself that perhaps they shouldn't have pressed such a touchy subject. He felt something he recognized as admiration piquing for the girl seated in front of him. Someone as privileged as he was couldn't hold a candle against the world who shouldered all her burdens entirely solitary. As he looked on in awe, the table became a jumbled mess of shouted apologies, flaming red cheeks, and flailing limbs, and she could only smile light-heartedly at them.

"It's alright. I've never met them, and I've always lived at the orphanage, so I don't exactly feel sad," she paused for a beat, poking at the peas in her plate, "Is that... is that wrong of me to say?"

"No one's forcing you to speak well on them. They're your family after all."

She seemed mildly shocked at Shoto's decision to speak up, and he'd even surprised himself by doing so. He wasn't exactly fond of her, so what on earth was he attempting to accomplish? Distracting himself from the slight embarrassment, he picked up his chopsticks to finish his cold soba.

Mulling his words over, she nodded, "I suppose you're right. No one can hold me accountable for speaking my mind," she gestured politely at him, "And you, Todoroki?"

With a blank face, Shoto slurped at the noodles, before simply saying.

"I don't like my father."

Izuku interjected at that point, "But isn't your father the flame hero Endeavor? He's so cool!"

Before he could go on a tangent, muttering to himself, Shoto interrupted the freckled boy, "Quirk-wise, yes. As a decent human being, he doesn't even make the cut for half-decent."

He'd heard a chortle at that, and he'd been pleasantly surprised to find her laughing, a hand covering her mouth while the others looked at her as though she'd grown three heads. That was the first time he'd ever heard her laugh, and certainly the first time he'd seen someone who wasn't treading on eggshells around him.

Tenya had cautiously called her name in a quiet voice, but Shoto shook his head, as though to indicate that it was alright. As a matter of fact, it was more than just alright, what with the warmth that had swelled inside his chest and spread throughout his body within the past few minutes.

"Sounds like he's a right piece of work," she said after she'd calmed down.

With the first ounce of genuineness towards her, the youngest Todoroki flashed a half-smile, completely blind to how charming he looked at that moment, and unaware that this moment was certainly about to become an important one he'd remember down the line.

"He's terrible, yeah."

***

The annoyance he'd thought he'd feel upon finding her standing beside him in front of his father's office was non-existent---and he would probably have to owe it to the light-hearted conversations they'd had over the course of the remaining days before the internships. It wasn't at all surprising that his father had pulled such a stunt to pull them together while profiting off her more-than-obvious talents, but he certainly was surprised to find himself rather happy with the arrangement.

His new-found respect for her had him even tolerating patrolling with his father, having her tagging behind the huge man as well.

"The city's so big," she mused, a fascinated expression on her face as she peered around at the glass skyscrapers (a stark contrast between them and the slums and alleyways that snaked throughout the city), a change from the usual nonchalance she displayed on her features, "It's a bit overwhelming actually."

He turned to her before asking earnestly, "You want to take a break? We can stop for a bit."

Her hesitance was apparent as she didn't meet his eyes, unlike how she usually maintained eye-contact without a second thought, "But Endeavor---"

"Trust me, I don't think he'd mind if we're alone," he muttered under his breath, a hint of bitterness in his words, but she couldn't pick up on his low voice, so before she could ask him to repeat himself, he went on, "It's alright. He's a busy man, he probably won't notice. We can take care of ourselves well enough."

After a split-second, she nodded in agreement, following him as he escorted her through brightly-lit park gates. Their feet kicked up some pebbles and gravel from the stone path, the sound of their footsteps oddly comforting in the fairly-secluded park. It was far quieter inside, seeing as it saw less visitors during the nighttime, and Shoto found an odd warmth creeping up his neck at the sudden realization that they were the only two people in the vicinity. He became hyperaware of her close proximity, but couldn't find it in himself to bacm off.

"Shoto," she called him in her soft voice, and he hummed to indicate that he was listening, "I wonder how much I missed out on."

"I told you it's fine, he won't mind us getting away---"

"I'm not talking about that," she interrupted, clasping her hands as she looked onwards, while his gaze still trained on her face basked in the moonlight, "I meant during my childhood. Till now even."

Shoto was quiet, not quite knowing what to say in fear of it being the wrong thing. Still, he knew she valued it when people were straightforward and spoke their mind without holding back.

"You weren't allowed to leave?" he asked with his furrowed brows.

Shaking her head, she explained, "Most places nowadays with the new laws and regulations implore having a guardian present for minors. They say it's for crime prevention."

"Then why didn't the workers at the orphanage take you guys out on day-trips?"

"No funds," she simply replied, "That, and they were too busy to care for trivial things like arcades and theme parks."

This didn't sit right with Shoto at all. He wasn't exactly the prime example of someone who'd had a wonderful childhood filled with happy memories, but at the very least, once he was old enough to wrench himself out of his father's grip, he was able to slowly discover parts of the city on his own. She, on the other hand, could not even do that for at least another 3 years.

He found an anger rising in his chest, the very thought of her enduring more neglection until she was to turn 18 bothering him more than he should've. He wanted nothing more than to promise that he'd show her more of the city with his dad's money (not that Enji would ever notice or care; the surplus of cash was rather boring actually) and teach her the things he himself didn't know until recently.

Opening his mouth so he could speak his mind, he was interrupted by his phone buzzing in his pocket, and her did too at the exact same instant.

"Sorry," he murmured with cheeks that warmed up as he realized what he'd just been about to say, busying himself with reading the incoming text he'd received.

His reaction was instantaneous, and she could sense the shift in his demeanor as soon as he'd finished reading. The scowl on his face was darker than she'd ever seen on him, and her own expression mirrored his when he looked up.

Tucking his phone in his pocket again, he gave a quick bow in apology, before beginning to turn on his tracks, "I'm gonna have to go and check it out myself."

"You think they're in trouble too, huh?"

He nodded his head, the night-time shadows enveloping his face and making his expression seem even graver as he halted in his steps, "Midoriya wouldn't send us his location on the groupchat of all things if it wasn't serious."

Instantly, her posture stiffened, an determined look in her gleaming eyes, "Tell me what I can do to help."

"Get to the school facility as fast as you can and call for back up. Share the location with them," he breathed out, the adrenaline causing his muscles to ache, "I'll be back," he repeated once again.

Nodding at him with a sense of finality, they both ran out of the park entrance that had seemed so welcoming before, now looking quite formidable---and then they split ways, the unspoken words from before still lingering on the tips of their tongues as they pushed the thoughts aside for the moment.

Click here to read part 2

Taglist: @thispersoniscrazy @wifeofkyojuro @the-foreigner

263 notes · View notes

bakusdumptruck · 3 years

Text

Bakusquad Crack Post Pt.2

Hello you beautiful bitches 😌 hope you had a good day today! I was stuck on what I was going to write and decided to make a side story on what happened with the LoV in the first part! So now i’ll give you high bakusquad ft. The LoV🤩

Pairing: Aged up Bakusquad x gn!Y/n x LoV

Warnings: Use of marijuana, swearing, injuries, slight manga spoilers

Summary: Bakusquad gets kidnapped by the Lov, but it turns out better than expected.

✨QUICK RECAP ✨

You and the Bakusquad were v e r y faded chilling on a hill watching the stars

A nomu pops out of no where and you all start attacking, but completely miss

The nomu starts chasing you and ends up knocking everyone out

OKAY NOW LETS GET IT 😈

So... you got kidnapped by the infamous League of Villains

B💥: *waking up* “Fucking shit what hap- oh shit hey crusty 😏 never thought i’d be here again.”

ST(Shiggy)🧴: “Never thought you’d be this easy to catch you little bitch”

B💥: “WHO YOU CALLIN A LITTLE BITCH YOU FLAKEY FU-”

Y/n🥵: *evil/scary ass voice* “Bakugou if you don’t shut the fuck up right now i’ll let his flakey ass disintegrate you. You’re beING TOO FUCKING LOUD 😃🔪”

B💥: “uh... where’d you get that knife from :D”

K💪🏼: “Hey guys, sorry to ruin your moment but shouldn’t we be concerned that we got kidnapped.”

M💅🏽: “I agree... We literally got kidnapped by the people who want to kill us.”

S🕷: “Oh shit, that’s who they are? No wonder they looked so familiar.”

All: 👁👄👁

ST🧴: “Ya’ll are dumber than I expected... anyway we want you guys to join us. You all have powerful quirks, especially you Baku-”

B💥: “YAWWNNNN. No thank you. I already said no.”

ST🧴: “Did you just s a y the word yawn 🙃 *scratching neck* You’re pissing me off. I’ll just kill you then.”

S🕷: “Hold on mr.saltine, before you kill bakubro can we smoke our last joint? This weed was expensive and I AM NOT letting it go to waste. Plus I have even more and it needs to be gone before I die.”

M💅🏽: “Sero please tell me you didn’t bring your stoner pack.”

S🕷: *pulls out his so called “Seros Super Stoner Pack”*

Shiggy’s starting to regret his life choices.

All of a sudden Dabi pops out of no where

DB🔥: “Is that weed? I smell weed. Where is it.”

Sero had the most amazing idea, but not for them to escape no, he has had the most amazing idea to make sure he finishes his weed.

S🕷: “...Wanna smoke with us 👀 I already rolled a joint and I can roll at least 4 more. Don’t wanna let it all go to waste 😃”

DB🔥: “Let them out of the cuffs. I need to smoke.”

At this point Shigaraki is over everything and decides to smoke to distract himself from the stupidity.

So, ya know, Sero does his thing and hands yall the other papers to roll up

*30 minutes and 5 joints later...*

DB🔥: “NO BUT LIKE ENDEAVOR IS A FUCKING B I T C H. HE CAN KISS MY BURNT ASS.”

This smoke session somehow turned into a therapy session.

DB🔥: “I KNOW HE’S MY DAD BUT HOLY SHIT. FUCKER PUSHED ME INTO FAKING MY OWN FUCKING DEATH AND NOW HERE I AM. IM BURNT, MUSTY, AND STUCK WITH THIS CRUSTY ASS BITCH.”

Y/n🥵: *patting his back* “There there, let it out... uhuh just like that”

DB🔥: “I CAN’T EVEN FUCKING CRY. MY TEAR DUCTS ARE BURNT AND I FEEL DUMB AS FUCK CRYING WITH NO TEARS. I LOOK FUCKING CONSTIPATED.”

ST🧴: “Bitch please, you look constipated all the time.”

DB🔥: “Square the fuck up. 😃 Right now.”

D⚡️: “So... we just gon ignore the fact that he’s Endeavors “dead” son?”

Eventually Dabi lets everything off of his chest and goes off pouting in your arms

To lighten up the mood Sero connects his phone to his speaker and picks whatever song came up first

It was WAP by Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion.

Denki was the first one to get up and starts to rap the first verse. He knew it word for word.

Sero joined in after but also started dancing

Mans was MOVING them hips. Them shits were swaying like it was nobody’s business 💅🏽

WAIT SO HEAR ME OUT, I feel like Bakugou would be a completely different person when he’s high

Yeah he’s still angry and shit but he’d be sooooo fucking funny

This bitch would get up all of a sudden and be like

B💥: “YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG FUCKER. THIS IS HOW YOU FUCKING MOVE”

Then he starts aggressively twerking anyway he can 😭

He’s twerking on the wall, on the floor, ON PEOPLE

You all eventually form a circle around him and start hyping him up

LMAOO ITS LIKE THAT DANCE CIRCLE AT SCHOOL DANCES AND EVERYONE HAS THEIR PHONE OUT

Y/n🥵: “BEST FRIEND SHOW EM YOUR MOVES”

K:💪🏼: “GO, OUUU YUH GET IT I GUESS 💅🏽... OKAY IM NEXT BEST FRIEND. GET THE CAMERA 🤩”

KIRI FUCKING PUSHES HIM OUT

K💪🏼: “dougie 🤪 hype me up 😤🥵”

He does it REALLY bad, but that’s not gonna stop the hype

ST🧴: “AHAHAHA WHY HE MOVIN LIKE THAT. MANS STIFF AS FUCK”

M💅🏽: “Like you can do any better than that 😗”

ST🧴: “Baby please, watch this”

Shiggy starts voguing... and he’s really fucking good.

All: “💀”

DB🔥: “HOLY SHIT THIS IS FUCKING GOLD . YO GUYS GET THE FUCK OUT YOUR ROOMS. Hehe he’s gonna regret doing this. ”

The rest of the LoV members come out and are shocked

They don’t know whether to laugh, cry, or be disgusted

TG🔪: “Dabi... is he okay, wait a minute... wHEN DID THEY GET HERE”

SP🐊: “...I’m going back to my room.”

TW👺: “OUU YUH SHIGGY. GET IT BITCH- this is so fucking disgusting.”

Mr.Compress and Kurogiri don’t even bother to see whats happening

Once the most iconic part of the song pops up YOU AND MINA GO OFF.

M💅🏽: “OUT OF THE WAY BITCHES. ITS THE BADDIES TURN.”

Holy fuck can y/n and Mina marry me already. p l e a s e.

Yall hitting every beat, every move, THE ATTITUDE. Yes. A+. 1000/10

Everyone was screaming their asses off and jumping around

After WAP, Dear Maria, Count Me In by All Time Low played

DB🔥: “OHHH SHIT ITS MY TIME WHORES”

Dabi pulls out a guitar and amp out of thin air and plays his fucking heart out.

Bakugou finds drums and plays like theres no tomorrow

Sero finds a bass and joins in

Y/n🥵: “What the fuck 😃 why is this so good 😃”

The rest of you starts head banging and singing along

K💪🏼: “TAKE A BREATH DONT IT SOUND SO EASY, NEVER HAD A DOUBT NOW IM GOING CRAZY WATCHING FROM THE FLOOR”

M💅🏽: “waYMENT- I THOUGHT HE COULDN’T SING. WHERE DID THAT COME FROM 😳”

Denki adds harmony to the next part

K💪🏼D⚡️: “TAKE A BREATH AND LET THE REST COME EASY, NEVER SETTLE DOWN CAUSE THE CASH FLOW LEAVES ME. ALWAYS, WANTING MORE”

Y/n🥵: “DENKI YOU TOO??? I’m going to pass away. This is too muCH. I’M GOING TO SIMP PLEASE.”

Oop, the best part’s coming up... who’s singing next?👀

DB🔥: “IT WAS NEVER A PHASE MOM. ITS A LIFE STYLE- CAUSE I GOT YOUR PICTURE IM COMING WITH YOU DEAR MARIA COUNT ME IN THERES A STORY AT THE BOTTOM OF THIS BOTTLE AND IM THE PEN.”

That shit was chefs fucking kiss. Dabi has the perfect voice for this song.

At this point you, Mina, and Shiggy were on the floor with tears streaming down your faces.

When yall thought it couldn’t get any better, Bakugou and Sero start harmonizing for the last part 💅🏽

B💥S🕷: MAKE IT COUNt WHEN IM THE ONE WHOS SELLING YOU OUT CAUSE IT FEELS LIKE STEALING HEARTS CALLING YOUR NAME FROM THE CROWD”

Dead. You flat lined. Your limit has been passed and now you’re a hard core simp.

Mina was so glad she started recording because there definitely won’t be another opportunity.

Y/n🥵: “Guys... WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT. HOW CAN YOU PULL INSTRUMENTS OUT OF YOUR ASSES AND PLAY PERFECTLY. KIRI WHERE THE HELL DID THE VOICE COME FROM.”

The boys were sweating and out of breath. They just did a whole performance in the hide out with zero practice.

They stared at each other at the end for a little bit and excitedly hyped themselves up.

Dabi spoke about starting a band forgetting about his occupation and why the bakusquad was there in the first place

Honestly this moment was precious. The villains and aspiring hero’s were getting along because of the weed in their system. This just proves how weed can solve all your problems 💅🏽

*knock knock* “Doordash delivery”

ST🧴: “Oh, when did you guys order food?”

S🕷: “We didn’t order food...”

ST🧴: “... FUCKING SHIT NOT AGA-”

The pro hero’s busted in 🤩

DB🔥: “KUROGIRIIII. GET US THE FUCK OUT OF HERE.”

And just like the the LoV escaped

M💅🏽: “Ya kno what, I honestly forgot where we were.”

B💥: “Same.”

K💪🏼: “We were having too much fun...”

D⚡️: “Ughhh why’d they come so early 😫 we were boutta start a band 🥺”

S🕷: “Wait... why were we here again??”

Y/n🥵: “Sero...baby, maybe you should lay off the weed for a bit 💀”

Aizawa walked in and shot his scarf out to all of you. He made sure to make them uncomfortably tight and pulled you guys right to him.

A🐱: 👺👹*gremlin noises*👺👹

Lol you guys are fucked.

HELLOOOOO I hope you guys enjoyed this story of what went on when the squad got kidnapped!! Honestly my account is gonna have ALOT of bakusquad scenarios since I literally love all of them so much. Not a day goes by where I’m not thinking about hanging out with them 😭 Credits to jazzmonster for the gif 😌 once I saw it I knew I had to use it. Anywayy thank you all so much for the support :’-) I didn’t think people would actually like the stuff I write since its all over the place 😫 Hope you have a good rest of your day/night 🖤

235 notes · View notes

macnevercries · 3 years

Text

Intoxicating(Sero x F!Reader)

Genre- fluff, friends to lovers, smut (mostly smut but with storyline)

Word count: 4250

Warnings- drug use, shotgunning, fingering, penetrative sex, praise kink, stoner hanta, hand fetish, mutual pining, sero being a gentleman, size kink?

Notes- This is my first fan fiction so I’m sorry if it’s bad, please enjoy! This was inspired by High Enough by K.Flay https://open.spotify.com/track/1qwno7xb5mJe71xtMS6jl2?si=-5ErHlgtTo-WD_SHyGL6uw

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

“Are you on your way yet?” Mina spoke over the phone, pressuring you into coming to a hangout for once. You had missed all of the bakusquad meetups for a week and Mina was tired of being the only girl there.

“Minaaaaa, it’s awkward. I can't face Sero and the rest of them after I confessed to him” you spoke shyly.

“Y/N, you were drunk, He was drunk. We were all drunk. I don't think he even remembers it, I barely even remember that night.” she said convincingly. It was likely that Mina didn't remember it, she was a lightweight after all.

“Even if he doesn't remember, I do. And I can't do it.” you spoke, holding your ground.

“You haven't shown up for a week. If you don't come tonight I’ll tell Sero what happened so it won't even matter if he remembers. Be there at 7, it’s movie night.” Before you could answer Mina hung up the phone.

“Mina wait-” you spoke hurriedly. Shit, Now you actually had to show up. And worst of all the movie was at Sero’s house tonight. Despite not going to see any of your friends this week, you had the group's schedule memorized and knew where the bunch would be tonight. Sighing, you got out of bed and checked the clock, 5:04, I’ll hop in the shower and have a light dinner before I go over, You thought to yourself before walking over to the bathroom and hopping in the shower, closing the glass door. You looked in the mirror through the door watching as the hot water poured over your bare skin. If Sero does remember, would he even return my feelings?

You pulled up to Sero’s apartment complex, fresh damp (H/C) hair and PJs on. It was already 7:15 and you were basically running up the stairs to ensure that Mina wouldn't do anything stupid. You barged in the door and five pairs of eyes turned to look at you as your chest heaved, soft black shorts ridden up your thighs, cream-colored tank top straps falling off of your shoulders and a dark green oversized zip up hoodie barely hanging on your arms. It was mid-summer so you had dressed lightly, Sero’s small apartment didn't have very good ventilation and having five extra bodies sure didn't help.

As you calmed down, walking into the room you scanned your friends for shocked looks or anything that would point towards the fact that Mina had spilled. You saw nothing out of the ordinary, Sero and Denki were standing by the counter, rolling joints. Bakugou and Kirishima chatting calmly, which was out of the ordinary for the usually enraged blonde. Mina was looking at you, seeming relived and happy. Sero stared at you extra long after everyone acknowledged your presence. You looked beautiful. Cheeks red and flushed from the running, (H/C) hair messy and disheveled, (E/C) eyes boring into him. Oh shit you were looking at him. He quickly looked away and continued where he was before, clearing his mind of the way you had looked at him. Trying to focus oh his joint, rolling it carefully between his thin and long fingers Denki spoke

“Real smooth bro, what was that look about? Is she mad at you or something?”

“I have no idea, I don't remember at least.” Sero returned, still confused.

“Weird,” Denki mumbled, lighting his joint and walking over to the couch plopping himself down in between Mina and Kirishima. Sero walked over to his hammock, the joint in his hand looked incredibly small, carefully placed between his fingers as he took a drag, light gray filling the space around his head. As he sat down, swinging a little you looked around and noticed there were no more seats. You had always known Sero’s apartment was small but with the tension in the air it felt ten times smaller. Having the old brown leather couch covered in Sero’s tape from rips being filled by Mina, Denki, Kirishima and Bakugou, you opted to sit on the floor.

“Wait wait wait, (Y/N) you don't have to do that, come sit in the hammock with me.” Sero spoke, smoke billowing out of his lips. You clenched around nothing and your heart beat frantically. You had always thought Sero was so attractive, but when he smokes? Don't get me started, he was like another person.

“You sure?” you asked. “I don't want to invade your space and I’m really fine with the floor.”

“I’m sure, you're my guest and my friend. Don't be stupid.” Sero said flatly. He was confident in his answer and he knew he had done the right thing when you started walking over, slowly climbing into his hammock. Swinging back and fourth he got a nice view, his lazy dark eyes settling on your ass, shorts riding up as you stretched over the lanky man. You scooted around and settled between his legs, there wasn't really anywhere else to go.

Turning around, you looked him in the eye as if to ask if where you were sitting was okay. He looked back at you, his signature smile settling on his face, he took a quick puff from the shortening joint in his hand and blew it into your face. You coughed, waving the smoke away as your eyes started to water. You punched Sero in the arm turning back around and looking at the TV. You felt him chuckle, sending vibrations through your body. Your heart thrummed and you squeezed your thighs together.

Sero laid back, pulling you to his chest. The smell of citrus, sage, and weed filled your nose. As you lay there feeling more comfortable than you had been in weeks, you couldn't help but wonder if Sero had heard your confession the other day. You pointed your eyes towards the screen avoiding Mina’s prodding gaze as she clicked the play button.

You settled back into Sero’s chest and you could feel yourself drifting asleep. The up and down of his chest, the warmth of his body, his overwhelming smell, the soft cotton of his flannel, all mixed with the sounds from the TV and Sero’s occasional laughs sending soft jolts of excitement and nervousness through your body all lulling you to sleep. Before you knew it, you were out cold and flipped over, hugged into Sero’s chest, your breath tickling his neck. He couldn’t help but feel excited. He had had a crush on you since high school and here you were, your soft breasts pressed up against him, legs entangled with his while your now dry hair brushed his nose.

The movie ended and everyone slowly shuffled out. It was now 10pm and you were dead asleep, now slightly drooling on the black haired man’s shirt. Oh man, how he wanted to tilt up your face and kiss you. Your soft pink lips were right in front of him. But he knew he couldn't. There was no way you felt that way about him. “You're so beautiful” he whispered into the top of your head, nuzzling his face in your hair and smelling your shampoo before scooting up into a sitting position and carefully wrapping his arms around you as to not wake you. He carried you to his room, his strength had always been startling despite his fairly lean build. He set you on the bed in a mound of pillows, throwing a light blanket over you. As he detached his arms from you, you mumbled “mmm Hanta don't leave, you smell so good.” His breath hitched. He knew you were asleep and probably had a second hand high but he couldn't help himself. He kissed your forehead and retreated to his shower, intent on reliving his now growing issue.

You wake up, feeling a little fuzzy but well rested in a mound of pillows. You could hear the shower running in an adjacent room, through the wooden door to your left. You didn't recognize where you were but you could assume it was Sero’s room. You had never been in here before, looking around it wasn't anything like you had imagined for years on end. There were red LED lights and twinkly fairy lights around the ceiling, circling the room in a soft haze. Band posters littered the walls and there was a mandala tapestry behind the bed. The floor was hard wood, like the rest of his house, but in here, it felt different. Everything was more comforting, Sero was comforting. Sitting up and realizing what bed you were in, you immediately laid back down and enjoyed the softness of his pillows. His usual citrus and sage scent enveloping the room, this was your heaven.

You sat back up as you heard the shower turn off, the bathroom light flickered out as the door opened, Sero exiting. He looked delicious. His wet black hair clung to his neck, one of his long pale arms reaching up with a towel to dry it. Sweat shorts and a baggy t-shirt, water dripping off of him. You still felt a little dazed, you almost pounced on him except for the small amount of self control that you still had in you. He walked over to the bed and grabbed your chin, you heart halted. “How are you feeling? Still tired?” He asked, tilting your head from side to side in his enormous hands, checking your physical wellbeing.

“I-I’m fine Hanta, let go of me” you mumbled, embarrassed by how red you had gotten. You hoped it would be drowned out by the lighting.

It was not unusual for you guys to call each other by your first names, you had been best friends since high school and now you were in college, aspiring heroes. Still, whenever his first name came out of your lips, he was done for. The way you looked right now, clothes strewn and hair progressively getting messier over the night, your foggy mindset obvious in the way you slurred out your words. He wanted to know if he could make it worse, if he could wreck you beyond recognition. He wanted you, messy, broken, calling his name like it was the only word you knew. Letting go of your face, he slowly traced his fingers down your jaw. He sighed, reaching into his beside table, pulling out his stash.

He sat down on the bed across from you and started rolling his second joint of the night. You didn't see it well before, so you paid attention now. It was his art, every small movement of his digits and the rolling of the paper, it was obvious he had been doing this for years. Ever since you guys reached legal age, him and Kaminari had become stoners. Sero was dedicated to it, but Denki just kinda did it when he felt like it. No matter how often you had seen Sero do this, pinching the smoke between his large fingers, the small paper roll making his already large hands look gigantic, you would never get used to it. You had memorized everything about this man, especially including his hands. His slender palm rising from his even skinnier and boney wrist, long and rough fingers, scars here and there. The tendons in the back of his hand, emerging when he moved, light purple veins tracing his whole upper arm. The placement of his knuckles, his chipped black nail polish topping everything off. You had long imagined these hands being inside of you. Looking at him bring his right slowly to his face, moving his fingers accordingly to take a drag, you wanted them. You wanted to reach out and touch them, trace them, feel them, praise them.

He looked up at you, half lidded with his lazy eyes, “Wanna hit?” he asked, noticing your lingering gaze.

“Yes” you agreed, reaching out before you knew was was happening, desperate for skin on skin contact with him.

“Woah woah woah, wait, did you say yes? You've never done this before, are you sure? I don't mind sharing but I was only joking” he said rushed, suddenly more awake from your shocking statement.

“No, I wanna try it, I’ve wanted to for a while” you said, your eyes looking into his to convey your seriousness. He looked you over, and handed you the joint. The tightly rolled cylinder looked so much larger in your hands, were his really that big? You brought the joint up to your lips, closing them where Sero’s had just been. You took a drag and he watched in amazement before you started coughing wildly. Concerned, he quickly moved closer to you, patting your back and rubbing small circles, taking the joint back from your shaking hand.

“Oh my god- I’m so sorry I forgot it would be hard for you at first, let me bring you some water” he mumbled, getting up from his seat next to you. You grabbed his arm before he could leave, dragging him back towards to you. “I’m not thirsty, I wanna try again” you said defiantly. He looked back at you, concern now covering his previously laid back and calm face.

“Okay.. “ he started hesitantly. “well if you wanna try it again can I help you? There's an easier way for beginners. Ever heard of shotgunning?” You shook your head, looking up at him confused. He sat back down on his bed, this time closer than he ever was. He took a long drag from his joint and lightly grabbed your face, his grip gentle on your soft skin. He looked you in the eyes, searching for uncertainty or hesitation but couldn't see any. Instead, your eyes were dark, an emotion he couldn't quite place.

He brought your face close to his and pushing your lips open with his finger, your breath hitched. God did he love seeing you like this. He closed the gap, opening his mouth to yours, the smoke entering you. You inhaled it, you inhaled everything about him you possibly could. Slowly, and regretfully, he pulled away. “Just like that, basically I just transfer smoke to you so you don't have to take it directly since otherwise it can be pretty harsh.” he said, mesmerized in the way you looked at him with wonder.

“I don't feel anything” you mumbled childishly.

He chuckled at your confusion “It takes a second, tell me how you feel in 10 minutes.”

“I want to do it again, I want to kiss you.” you whispered softly, peeking up at him through your lashes.

Shocked, Sero leaned back “Y-you what? (Y/N) are you okay? was the smoke too much?” he asked frantically, confused by your sudden confession.

“Hanta, I feel fine” You assured him. “You're telling me you don't remember what happened last time?”

“Last time? What do you mean? Oh shit did I do something when we went out? (Y/N) I'm so sorry is that why you've been avoiding us?” he asked.

“No, you didn't do anything, I did.” He looked bewildered so you continued “We all got really drunk and I told you I loved you.” Sero stopped moving, his panicked fidgeting coming to halt. “Did you mean it?” he questioned, his voice deeper than before. “Mean what? Oh, yeah-” Before you could finish your sentence he was on top of you, his mouth on yours as he slowly pushed your frame back onto his bed. “I love you too” he mumbled against your lips, resuming his attack on your face. You were flustered but kissed back. There was no time to question it, both of you were high and needy, years of longing built up.

He sat back and looked you in the eye “I know I’m not exactly sober but I want you to know that I mean every word of what I’m about to say. You’re absolutely intoxicating, you leave me feeling higher and happier than weed ever could. You are the drug that I need to survive.”

“Hanta, I only have eyes for you. It's always been you.” You stated, your heart bloomed at his confession. He looked you in the eye, studying you, confirming to himself that what you were saying was true. Sero had never been very confident of himself, he was always seen as average and you were the most beautiful and kind girl he knew. By the look on his face you could tell he accepted what you said.

Diving back into you, his hands met your body, dragging, pinching and squeezing everything within his grasp. It was everything you imagined. His body heat melting into you but his fingers still had a cool touch to them. He traveled your body, memorizing it and making a map in his mind. His nimble fingers slipped under your shirt, smothering you. He felt your smooth skin as his hands went up and down on your waist and hips. He lowered himself, pushing his rock hard length against your shorts, slowing grinding into you, finding friction. “mmm Hanta, you feel happy.” you mumbled into his ear, nibbling on it as your hand traveled down to his sweats. He groaned in your ear, rutting against your hand, desperate for your touch.

Suddenly he pulled back and looked at you. His already dark eyes were darker and clouded with lust. A light pink dusted his face. “you're absolutely beautiful” he stated, absolutely confident in his words. “Hanta, you're just high” you whined, never having been good at taking compliments. He was on you again, pulling your shirt up, glancing at you before doing anything to make sure it was okay. He ran his hands up your chest, gently cupping your breasts. “No I really mean it... I’ve loved you for years... And not just for your body” He said in-between kisses, his lips were soft against yours. Slowly his head moved down, pressing open-mouthed kisses into your jawline and collarbones, sure to leave marks. You moaned quietly and he bit down, surprising you and causing louder sounds to erupt from your chest. Your whole body was throbbing. “Don't be quiet, I wanna hear the sounds you make pretty girl” he growled into your shoulder. The nickname made your core throb. You wanted him so badly.

You pulled off his shirt, running your hands over his chest, admiring his lean muscular build. The man looked like a god. His skin was clear and glistening from his shower, his body dwarfing yours in sheer height. He had already been tall in high school but now he towered over all of his friends. His hands slowly unclipped your bra, pressing soft kisses on them. His tongue swirled around one of your already hard nipples, his fingers pinching and playing with the other. Switching breasts, he moved his available hand down to your shorts to pull them down. Realizing this was harder than he thought, he detached his mouth from you with a wet pop. He used both hands to pull down your shorts, looking at you adoringly.

His hands traced the outline of your panties, and then palming your mound. You moaned and arched your back towards him, in desperate need of relieving all of this tension. “Hey pretty girl, we’ll get there, slow down” he chuckled. Your eyes popped open and glared at him. “Hanta, I need you. Now.”

His breath hitched at your bold statement. He yanked your panties down quickly, surprising you and getting a gasp from you. He grinned as a string of arousal connected your now disposed panties to your exposed core. It glistened with wetness, you had been waiting so long for this moment. Sero couldn't tear his eyes off of it, slowly he reached out his large hand, sliding a finger over your slit and then softly stroking your folds. “Is this all for me sweet girl? You're too kind.”

You arched your back, done with his teasing. Before you could even complain he stuck a finger inside, your velvety walls wrapping around him. You needed more. He could tell by your face, years of observing you closely now coming in handy. He stuck in another digit, pumping them in and out slowly as his thumb reached up to circle your clit. You let out a long whine, music to his ears. At that he went faster, still watching you closely. The way you stopped breathing when he hit one spot, he knew he had found it. Focusing all of his energy on that spot, going quicker and harder. He simultaneously hit your g-spot and rubbed your clit, getting you unraveling under him faster than any man ever had. He guided you through your high, slowing down and eventually pulling out his fingers, leaving your thighs shaking and your cunt clenching around nothing.

He observed his slick coated fingers and licked them clean. You stared at him in shock, baffled at his actions. “mmm (Y/N) you taste so sweet, I’ll have to explore that another time though” He groaned, palming his painful erection. You swiftly pulled down his sweat shorts and boxers in one motion, his cock springing up against his stomach. You had never really thought that dicks were pretty, but everything about Sero was beautiful so you weren't surprised.

He had average girth, but an amazing length. He had a few prominent veins that you traced, leaving him shuddering at your touch. His slight left curve looked delicious. You moved your hand towards the head, red and glistening as you traced a finger over his slit, dripping with pre-cum. You tried to wrap your hand around his base, but your fingertips barely touched on the other side. You did a few experimental pumps, you were afraid that even with your preparation it might be too much for you to take. You bent your head down, swirling your tongue on the tip, giving small kitten licks. He tasted salty, but better than other men. You weren't surprised about that, you knew he took good care of himself. You ran your tongue along the bottom, dragging it slowly and tracing all of the bumps and ridges.

He couldn't take it anymore. He pushed you back onto the bed, grinding himself against you, using his small amount of restraint to not push into you there and then. “Condom?” he asked desperately, looking around. “Don't need one, I'm on birth control” you spoke softly, hushing him with gentle kisses. He sighed contentedly at your response. He ran the head up and down your slit, getting ready to line himself up with your small hole. Your kisses crept up towards the side of his face, you licked a strip up his jaw and whispered directly against his ear, warm breath fanning his neck, “Plus, I want to feel you when you're inside me” you blew lightly on his ear and giggled. He didn't think it was funny.

Before you could say anything he lined himself up with you and pushed inside in one motion. Your walls hugged him in all the right places.The stretch burned but when he leaned down to say “So tight. You're so good for me, taking all of my cock like a good girl” all the pain faded into pleasure. As he mumbled praises int your skin, he rutted into you, his previously gentle motions now rough and fast. Want, need and lust filled the room. The smell of weed fading, covered by the smell of sex and your overwhelmed sense of mind. “Hanta, you feel so good inside me” you groaned. This seemed to spur him on, he went faster, if at all possible, attaching his thumb to your clit and rubbing harshly without hurting you. He could feel you clenching around him and he knew you were close. He was barely hanging on.

“Where should I-”

“Inside. Come inside me. Please” you cut him off, begging.

With a few final strokes you spasmed around him, and as you fell down from your high, he chased his own. Whispering your name over and over like he was praying, he spilled his seed inside you, white thickness covering your insides and dripping out onto your violently shaking thighs. “Oh, my god. That was amazing. You're amazing.” Sero ranted. You smiled brightly at him, too tired to move and your voice a little hoarse from all your whining.

The black haired boy got up and went to his bathroom. He returned with a warm washcloth and a cup of water. You sipped on the room temperature water while Sero cleaned you up. He always treated you so well, even when you were just friends. He grabbed one of his clean t-shirts and a pair of boxers, helping you get dressed. Sitting up, you faced him while he beamed down at you.

“How are you feeling?” Sero asked, genuinely concerned for your well-being.

“I’m good, it felt good.” you hummed contentedly.

“What does this mean for us? Are we gonna tell the rest of the guys that we are dating? That is only if you want to date of course, I wouldn't want to pressure you into anything” Sero mumbled, saddened by his own assumptions.

“Is this your way of asking me to be your girlfriend?” you grinned.

“Depends, are you saying yes?” Sero smiled back, your positive reaction upping his mood. You answered his question by pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “Yes, always.”

#serohanta #sero x reader #bnha #ouid #smokersero #friendstolovers #druguse #sizekink #handkink #mha #bnha smut #mha smut #mha x reader #mha x you #mha fluff #bnha sero

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benvskylo · 3 years

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Reylo Fic Recs- Horror/Spooky AUs Part 2

It’s been a while since I’ve done a rec list and with spooky season here I thought I’d do a part 2 of this rec list

Just a reminder, I do not read darkfics. These mainly deal with ghosts and other supernatural things and keep a general Halloween vibe

Includes title(with link), rating, chapter and word count, more specific AU, and an intro. My favorites are marked with a 👻

Our Ghosts Rated M/ 18 chapters, 45k words/ Modern AU/ Rey is a newly hired camera operator for Investigations Unsolved, and for the season finale, the crew will investigate the Snoke House. (Think Buzzfeed Unsolved visits the Haunting of Hill House mansion, if Ben Solo was Shane Madej. Perfection. This fic LOOKS like it’s unfinished but it’s not, I promise) 👻

Within These Walls Rated M/ 1 chapter, 13k words/ Victorian ‘Sixth Sense’ AU/ Ever since he was little, Ben has been able to see ghosts. Rey has a unique gift of her own and together they return to Ben’s ridiculously haunted childhood home to learn what exactly happened there. (The author has put a few content warnings in the beginning notes so be sure to read those before you start and only read what you’re comfortable with! Also it’s more about the ghosts that their relationship, just keep that in mind! Also included in my Regency/Victorian rec list)

The Echoes They Left Behind Rated E/ 7 chapters, 31k words/ Modern AU/ Rey Johnson is the caretaker at the old (and possibly haunted) Takodana Sanatorium. Journalist Ben Solo comes to write an article about it before it’s torn down. (I highly recommend listening to the the podcast episode the author mentions in the notes, as well as the rest of the podcast as it’s my favorite one)👻

Dark Fate Rated M/ 16 chapters, 69k words/ Frankenstein AU/ Rey has been betrothed to aspiring doctor Armitage Hux for most of her life. When she turns 18 and arrives at his home to be married, she finds him to be cold and distant. And hiding a big secret in the basement

Caught by Crystals Rated T/ 40 chapters, 70k words/ Modern witch AU/ When Ben Solo moves into Maz’s boarding house to escape his past and to fill a teaching position at the local college, he meets Rey, Finn, and Rose. Family and town secrets are soon revealed with the help of Ben’s magic (Also included in my college/university list

If you’re looking for a specific fic genre or trope, check out my masterlist and if you don’t see what you’re looking for, check out this post for more info on the types of fics I read and making a request!

#star wars #rey #daisy ridley #adam driver #ben solo #kylo ren #reylo #reylo fandom #reylo fic #reylo ao3 #reylo fan fic #reylo fan fic recs #reylo fanfic #reylo fanfic recs #star wars sequel fic #halloween fics #spooky fics #reylo fic masterlist

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shiros-boyfriends-are-pretty · 3 years

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Rant time: Wall-E edition

I was a literal baby child when Wall-E came out and let me tell you: I LOVED that movie. I know the plot. I've seen all the shorts. It's incredible.

But now as a programmer there's other added context I now have that just makes Wall-E's origin story sad as fuck.

And that knowledge is this: programming consciousness/emotion/awareness into a robot is HARD. You do not waste thousands of hours giving a robot the ability to emote without a reason.

At first glance, you have two possible answers. Warning, both are sad:

1) They gave every single Wall-E unit sentience

This theory would obviously explain Wall-E's sentience. It would also explain its deep attachments to all of its now defunct friends in the literal Earth graveyard (yikes). It also means that Wall-E likely had friends and colleagues, and had to watch them all slowly die. However, there are a few problems with this theory. The main issue: If all Wall-E units could feel emotion, observe their surroundings, and learn from it, HOW IS ONLY WALL-E STILL ALIVE??? This theory also implies that the human beings in the movie did anything from start to finish, and considering they couldn't even clean up the planet it seems unlikely to me that they would bother to code consciousness into every single unit. It would waste a lot of computer memory while also being more expensive, and considering all the units die pretty much we can rule out the idea that these programmers were actually 100% good at their jobs.

This brings me to theory 2: Developmental use.

In programming you often need to have a test subject on which to develop your project. On the ship, we see a great deal of AI software that allows it's robots to emote and form connections. Clearly this software had to come from somewhere.

Which means that when the human beings were planning to leave the solar system they decided to fuck up a perfectly good robot by testing their code on it and then leaving. I repeat, they gave a robot sentience as part of their plan to escape and they didn't even take the literal child they'd created in the process.

This theory explains why Wall-E learned to survive when the other robots died in place. It learned to maintain itself. Which means that somewhere along the way, programmers gave Wall-E the ability to feel attachment, consciousness, happiness, sadness, etc.

And then they abandoned it on Earth like the motherfuckers they are.

Not to mention that a Wall-E unit likely does not have memory big enough to remember every single experience Wall-E encounters, meaning it likely doesn't have any memory of who truly abandoned it and why its alone.

They also for some reason decided to encode this AI Wall-E with seemingly masculine gender expression, which is fascinating and terrifying, but we consistently see it performing gender to some weird extent for a robot, aspiring to masculine role models most notably.

In conclusion, don't give a robot consciousness and then immediately traumatise it via abandonment, you heathens. If you create a robot child that is your robot child and it is your fault that you made it. It did not ask to be made.

#ok end of rant #wall e #disney #ai #artificial intelligence #they fucked up their robot kid #im mad #movie analysis #sarah z this is for you

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that-scouse-wizard · 3 years

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HPHL Profile: Reuben Willows

General Information

Full name: Reuben Patrick Willows

Gender: Cis Male

DOB: 17/07/18XX

Species: Human

Blood status: Pure-blood

Sexuality: Bisexual

Alignment: Neutral Good

Ethnicity: White-Irish

Nationality: Irish

Residence: Dublin, Ireland

Later, the Llwelyn Manor

Myers Briggs Personality Type: ENFP, the Campaigner

Special ability: Legilimens

Character Summary: Level-headed though as stubborn as a mule, Reuben Willows is a natural born Legilimens. A love for all things draconic inspires the studious Ravenclaw to become a Dragonoligist. Perhaps he could use his abilities to better understand the minds of the beasts he is so fascinated with. Though he appears intimidating, just don’t voice open support of the Ministry (especially the Warlock’s Convention of 1709) around him and you’ll be fine.

Personality

Artistic: Reuben is very much fond of drawing, finding it quite relaxing, he loves drawing landscapes and people’s portraits.

Calm: Reuben is usually non-confrontational about most topics, except for how competent the Ministry really is, then he’ll absolutely tear into it.

Cocky: Reuben can get a bit arrogant about his achievements when he does well in them. It’s resulted in a few close shaves when handling magical creatures.

Competitive: As a beater on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, Reuben always encourages a healthy sense of competition between the other houses though even he needs to be careful about crossing the line.

Empathetic: Reuben’s Legilimens abilities allows him to sense how others are feeling, often giving him insight on how best to approach them in the moment. This has gone so far as even being able to calm dragons down.

Hard-working: Work on his grandparents farm/ farm shop reinforced the ideal of hard, honest work in him. There’s no real shortcut to success in his eyes.

Loyal: Reuben has a great sense of loyalty to his grandparents and to friends who show it.

Stubborn: Reuben has the Willows’ family infamous stubbornness, it’s not often he’ll falter from his position on something.

Witty: Despite his imposing size and build, Reuben would much prefer to use brain over brawn unless he absolutely has to.

Appearance

Face claim: Hafthor Bjornsson

Voice claim:

Game appearance: TBA

Physique: Athletic, broad-shouldered, pretty much a walking wall of muscle.

Hair colour: Dark brown.

Eye colour: Grey.

Hair style: Usually keeps it cropped short.

Height: 6′1′’

Weight: 85kg (when full grown)

Scarring: Has three major ones. A bowtruckle scratch down the length of the upper side of his left forearm. One on his right elbow after landing roughly when a cow on his grandparents’ farm chased him. One on his abdomen from an especially feisty Welsh Green wyrmling (baby dragon) after it whipped him with its tail. Also has several on his back from his dad took a belt to him

Body modifications: Has two tattoos on his chest, depicting the heads of a Hungarian Horntail (his favourite dragon species) and an Irish Ironhead (an original dragon). On his upper right arm, a depiction of a Welsh Green, similarly on his upper left arm, a Norwegian Ridgeback. No piercings.

Inventory: His wand, a sketchbook, a journal, his writing/drawing equipment and most importantly, his Irish Ironhead dragon fang necklace..

Fashion: Aside from his Quidditch attire during a match and robes for lessons, Reuben tends to wear very hardy materials one would expect a farmer to wear.

Think this style:

However, Reuben will definitely dress up well for any formal event, most likely will wear bronze and blue..

Background/History:

Pre-Hogwarts:

-Reuben was born close to Dublin, Ireland to auror parents, their only child.

-Unfortunately, the two of them desired to see Reuben gain the influence of an auror just as they had.

-They effectively tried to groom Reuben for this career path to an abusive extent, especially to make his Legilimens abilities work as a lie detector of sorts..

-One such measure taken was severing Reuben’s contact with his grandparents when he was nine. Previously, the happiest Reuben had been was working on their farm/farm shop that provided for the local wizarding community. His parents began to feel this was a distraction which prompted the separation.

First year: .

-Despite his best efforts he just doesn’t have a knack for DADA, something that infuriates his parents.

-He meets several of his lifelong friends including the three who would make up his found family, Cledwyn Ironwood, Faith Renner and Marigold Sterling

Second year:

-He learns via letter from his grandad that his grandmother has passed away, enclosed in the letter is small, sharp, serrated tooth perfect for snipping grass and shrubs. The fang of an extinct herbivorous dragon species called the Irish Ironhead, it’s been fashioned into a necklace. One that he wears proudly whenever he’s at Hogwarts.

-Between the summer of second and third year, Siobhan Llwelyn invites him to spend some time at the dragon sanctuary, where Reuben meets his hero, Edwin Llwelyn.

Third year:

-TBA

Fourth year:

-TBA

Fifth year

-TBA:

Sixth year

-Finally after years of trying to avoid or take a sticks and stones approach to his parent’s abuse, Reuben snaps. By this point, he’s fully grown and very strong, he drags his father outside the family home and pummels him to within an inch of his life.

-He doesn’t give his father the satisfaction of dying, instead opting to spit on his beaten, bloodied form. Then giving both of his parents a stark warning to stay away from him, he doesn’t want them in his life anymore.

Seventh year:

-Reuben’s main residence outside of Hogwarts is his grandparent’s farm, looking after his grandfather in his failing health when he can.

-Just after he graduates, his grandfather passes away.

Post-Hogwarts:

-Reuben’s budding skills as a dragonologist come to full fruition under the tutelage of Edwin. The apprenticeship lasts for a solid three years before Edwin officially hires Reuben.

-Two years after that, Siobhan returns from her five year long journey, staying on as a consultant but having no desire to take over the sanctuary.

-Instead (much to Reuben’s surprise) Siobhan thinks he should take over the sanctuary.

-Reuben spends the rest of his days helping to rehabilitate the dragons on the sanctuary, becoming a renowned dragonologist of the time.

-He documents successes and failures in rearing the dragons, publishing his findings in a series of books. Occasionally being a bit scathing of the Ministry in certain passages.

Family:

Father: Declan Willows

Face Claim: Adam Pettyfer

A harsh man with utter disdain for his son’s aspirations, Declan is very much uncompromising and loathes the thought of his only child rebelling against him. His own upbringing from his father being too much of push over, seeing how it affected his family is it what turned him into the cruel, bitter patriarch of the Willows family

Mother: Sophie Willows (nee Neylan)

Face claim: Anne Hathaway

Similarly to her husband, hates Reuben’s interest in animals and magical creatures. Unlike her parents, despises the thought of being a farmer, hence why she chose to become an auror for the influence it gave.

Her strained relationship with her parents would come to a head when she forbade Reuben from having any contact with them when he was nine.

Grandmother: Aislin Willows (nee Nic Naois)

Face Claim: Judi Dench

A kind and loving grandmother, utterly devoted to her only grandson, Aislin would encourage Reuben’s love of the natural world. Something that caused further tension in the already strained relationship with her daughter Sophie, coming to a head when Reuben was separated from her and her husband, Nathan.

Sadly, she would pass away during Reuben’s second year, having not seen him face-to-face for three years. However, her last gift to him would be the fang of an Irish Ironhead she managed to acquire.

Grandfather: Nathan Willows

Face claim: Patrick Stewart

A devoted grandfather to Reuben and someone who instilled the value of hard work into him. Also fond of teaching his grandson how to bake cakes and how to run a business in the family’s farm and farm shop.

He was heartbroken when Reuben was taken from him and Aislin, but even more so when Aislin would pass away after a few years. His own failing health would sadly mean he passed away just after Reuben graduated but at least had the chance to spend his last days with his grandson by his side.

Granddaughter: Rue Willows

Face Claim: Fiona O’Carroll

Having a similar relationship to himself and his own grandparents, Reuben greatly encourages Rue’s decision to go into Dragonology. Even if it is under the employ of the Ministry as part of the Dragon Research and Restraint Bureau.

He would go so far as to gift Rue his dragon fang necklace, that she would then pass on to her son, David.

Though he would never live long enough to meet his great-grandsons, Reuben had an indirect impact on David’s life. David would befriend Charlie Weasley after the boy recognises his relation to Reuben. David is also encouraged by Murphy McNully (a Ravenclaw in David’s AU) to try out for Quidditch after hearing about Reuben’s exploits on the Quidditch pitch. David is gifted Reuben’s dragon fang necklace by Rue after their relationship improves.

Allegiances:

Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw

Affiliations: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the Llwelyn dragon sanctuary.

Professions: Trainee dragonologist (for three years)

Dragonologist/Author: Rest of his life until retirement.

Hogwarts Information

Astronomy: E

Charms: A

DADA: P

Flying: O

Herbology: A

History of Magic: E

Potions: P

Transfiguration: E

Electives:

COMC: O

Divination: E

Muggle studies: P

Quidditch:

Ravenclaw Beater (later captain)

Favourite professors

-TBA

Least Favourite Professors

-TBA

Best canon friends

-TBA

Love Interest

-If you’d like your MC to be Reuben’s love interest, let me know!

Best MC friends:

Cledwyn Ironwood, though Cledwyn was very much a dour Gryffindor when they first met with time, the two would form a bond as close as brothers. Reuben often acting as Cledwyn’s voice of reason.

Danny Gibson (@catohphm) a dorm mate of Reuben’s and the seeker on the Quidditch team, the two develop quite a close friendship. On the Quidditch pitch, Danny knows Reuben will keep the bludgers off his back.

Faith Renner, despite her hostile attitude for a Hufflepuff, Reuben made it a mission to befriend her after becoming quite interested in how she would make colourful fish hooks. They would become close friends, bonding a bit more in COMC class.

Leila Hellebore (@whatwouldvalerydo) A beater on the Slytherin Quidditch team, immediately marking her to be a rival. Reuben enjoys the competition with her and even finds the fact that he’s over a foot taller than her quite adorable.

Marigold Sterling, though Mary was quite intimidating, Reuben and Marigold would more often than not find themselves studying together. It would take time but she would eventually open up to him, trusting him with the secret that she was a maledictus and would later ask him to join her in helping to break her curse.

Siobhan Llewelyn (@kc-needs-coffee) A fellow Ravenclaw and dragonologist, Reuben was initially quite endeared to her relation to Edwin Llewlyn. However, he soon broke past that, becoming a close friend to Siobhan, to the extent of being allowed to eventually take over management of the Llwelyn dragon sanctuary.

Message me if you would like Reuben to be your MC’s friend!

Rivals:

Leila Hellebore (during Quidditch)

Enemies:

-Dragon poachers

Magical abilities:

Wand: Hazel, dragon heartstring core, 11 inches, unyielding flexibility.

Hazel wands often reflect its owner’s emotional state and work best for a master who understands and can manage their own feelings. Others should be very careful handling a hazel wand if its owner has recently lost their temper, or suffered a serious disappointment because the wand will absorb such energy and discharge it unpredictably. It is capable of outstanding magic in the hands of the skilful and is so devoted to its owner that it often ‘wilts’ at the end of their master's life. Hazel wands also have the unique ability to detect water underground and will emit silvery, tear-shaped puffs of smoke if passing over concealed springs and wells.

Dragon heartstrings produce wands with the most magic power, and which are capable of the most flamboyant spells. Dragon wands tend to learn more quickly than other types. While they can change allegiance if won from their original master, they always bond strongly with the current owner. The dragon wand tends to be easiest to turn to the Dark Arts, though it will not incline that way of its own accord. It is also the most prone of the three cores to accidents, being somewhat temperamental.

Animagus: N/A

Misc magical abilities:

Legilimens: A natural born Legilimens, Reuben has the ability to sense people’s emotional states, allowing him to gain insight on how best to approach a situation. Even developing it further to be able to see through the eyes of people and animals.

Boggart form: His grandma calling him a disappointment.

Riddikiulus form: His grandma takes out a vial of babbling beverage, chugs it and proceeds to speak nonsense, something she would do to make him laugh if he was feeling down.

Amortentia (what do they smell like): Wood smoke and brandy.

Amortentia (what do they smell): Fresh grass and cloves.

Patronus: Jack Russel

Patronus memory: His grandfather bringing him a cake for his birthday.

Specialised/ Favourite spells:

Bombarda (Maxima): Only done as an absolute last resort if he’s dealing with a dragon that he can’t calm down. A charm that he’s practiced time and again in order to concentrate into a much more potent version.

Conjunctivitus curse: If a dragon is being aggressive but Reuben still has a way out, this his go-to spell. Blinding them can give him a chance to get out safely.

Duro: Useful for strengthening materials used in enrichment for the dragons or just making them more resilient.

Finite: Doesn’t wish to have the debilitating effects of the Conjunctivitus curse or Incarcerous be permanent, so uses this to dispel them when he needs to.

Incarcerous: Summoning ropes to bind or restrain something is always handy to have.

Incendio: Being able to concentrate it into a powerful gout of fire is one way to get a dragon’s attention.

Reparo: Always a handy spell to have when you can just repair a worn or broken piece of equipment. Reuben scarcely needs to throw out his work clothes thanks to this.

#harry potter hogwarts legacy #hphl #hphl mc #hphl oc #reuben willows

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