#we are absolutely PARCHED

[grandprixgirlies]

can we please talk about this ???? the top buttons undone ???? charles, you KNOW what you are doing to us 🫠

[unknownplane]

The Court Jester Part 3

Yandere Batfam x GN Reader

Pt. 1, Pt. 2, Pt. 4

The Joker came closer, almost inspecting the job (Y/N) had done. His eyes run over the Bat.

"Good job with the knots, my little Jester. That will keep him there for as long as we want!" The Joker exclaimed with a large grin. "Now, how did you get him here so fast! I must know!"

"I can't tell you, Dad! It would ruin the game. And we love the game!" (Y/N) explained. (Y/N) went up to the Joker and side hugged him. Bruce saw this and started struggling.

"What have you done to them! They said you 'Trained' them! I know you! Tell me now!" Bruce screamed.

The Joker's smile widened as he saw the Bat struggle. "Peanut, would you be so kind and get your dad something to drink? I am absolutely parched." The Joker said with honeyed words.

"Of course, dad!" (Y/N) said, jumping at the opportunity to please their dad. They ran out of the room hoping to get a drink as fast as possible.

"Look at them. I'm so proud of their growth. You know they were so sad when I first met them. They were only 5. They were looking for someone to talk to. Can you believe it, Bruce Wayne, ignoring one of his own while still taking in new kids. Can you imagine how that felt?!" Joker laughed unknowingly rubbing salt in Bruce's wounds.

"It was perfect, you know. Them being in such dire need of affection and not caring who it came from! A perfect opportunity for me to step in and take them away! At first, they resisted. Fought so hard not to succumb! They even called out for you. Did you know that!?" Joker confessed, stunning Bruce. Even after all he did, you still called out to him? You called for your dad, your real dad.

"It took a while to get them like this. Lots of training. Brutal, really. Though nothing I haven't done to you and your birds, just in a shorter period of time." Joker stated as if he was talking about weather and not torture. This shocked Bruce, remembering all the things the Joker did to his family. "How are they alive?!" Batman questioned.

"That's the funny thing, Bat! No matter what I did to them, they wouldn't die! They would get injured, but only a few seconds would pass, and then it would completely heal! I even cut off an arm, and as you can see, they have both now! Amazing, isn't it!" The Joker exclaimed. This stunned Bruce. (M/N)'s child was Meta? No. He would have noticed.

"Now, what is taking that child so long?" The Joker said brazenly.

With (Y/N)...

(Y/N) scrambled around looking for a bottle of water when someone came up behind them. They were suddenly grabbed and restrained. "The fuck!" (Y/N) exclaimed. "Relax it's just me. I'm here to save you." Jason whispered assuming (Y/N) would stop fighting when they heard it was him. (Y/N) struggled to move surprising Jason giving them a little wiggle room. (Y/N) jabbed their elbow into Jason's stomach pushing him back into a coughing fit.

With Jason off them, they turned around. "You aren't supposed to be here, Hood." (Y/N) stated glaring. They move their hands to their hip and pull out a small stick. They hit a button, and it enlarges to become a marotte.

(Y/N) swings at Jason as he tries to dodge, not wanting to hurt his sibling. This goes on until something pierces (Y/N) in the back of their nape. They start slowing down until they pass out.

"Took you long enough." Jason said flatly, going over to (Y/N). "They were putting up more of a fight than we all thought. I needed to get a clean shot." Damian claimed. He was lying to himself. He just wanted to assess how his older sibling fought, and from what he could tell, if they were taking this fight seriously, it wouldn't have ended well. "Let's just get them out of here. The others are waiting." Jason said, knowing that when he got to the manor, he would finally get to be the sibling they needed.

Giddy, he picked them up as if they were the most precious thing in the world and started leaving. "I'll go help dad." Damian said flatly as it seemed like a chore.

With Batman...

"Why? Why would you do those horrible things to a child?!" Bruce questioned. "For fun." The Joker spoke with a wolfish smile.

The door crept open, catching Bruce's eye. He saw his youngest creeping in the room. "You know I believe this is one of the only instances in which I would be willing to kill you." Bruce said, letting Damian he had permission to try and kill the Joker. "Really! I pushed you to that level with this one joke!? How wonderful! I will have to keep this in mind for later! Now, if only that bra -" a sudden gunshot stopped the Joker from finishing his sentence.

Blood rushed from the left side of Joker's face as he fell to the ground dead. "Where is your sibling?!" Bruce questioned with urgency. "They are on their way home with Hood. If we leave right now, we should be able to get there at the same time." Damian informed Bruce. "Good now untie me so we can leave. Your siblings got a mean knot." Bruce commanded.

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

@cooki3dough @asillysimp @kitty-from-daaaa-voidddd @redkarmakai @horror-lover-69 @bat1212 @wisefuncherryblossom

[piningintrovert]

Payu’s racing suit: A masterclass in foreplay and kink exploration

One helluva title, huh? Well listen, I’ve been cursed with a great attention to detail (the notes app is sick of me atp) and an even greater desire to share so here we are. Wanna come along for the ride?

It's race day and this is the first time we get to see Payu in his gear, hence this very important full-body shot for which audience is quite grateful (I took the liberty of speaking for all of us, but if you disagree, remember that denial is a river in Egypt 😌). Though we will come to see later on, that no one is as grateful as Rain.

One thing about Rain, he's going to brat. And as amused as Payu is, he's going to nip it right in the bud (hair tousle, my beloved 😭). That aside, we know that Payu is almost always in tune with Rain, and he can clearly see that baby boy is more than loving how he looks in his racing gear. And Rain saying that his suit is cool a second time gives Payu the confirmation he needs, and an opening for foreplay and the exploration of Rain's budding cosplay kink.

Now despite rendering Rain parched and speechless at that thought of him stripping out of his gear, leave it to Payu to take it to the next level.

Rain is visibly excited. And although he has not verbally responded, his body language is speaking volumes, even if at this point he doesn't fully get what Payu is implying.

Payu has essentially given Rain the permission to dress him within the boundaries of cosplay, and confirms this by asking Rain to help with putting on his gloves.

Now I'd like to think the purpose of Payu's request two-fold: (1) to show (just the audience atp because Rain doesn't understand what's happening yet) that he’s noticed the beginnings of Rain's kink and (2) to engage another one of Rain's senses as he continues their foreplay. So far there's been sight, sound, smell, and now Payu has added touch.

We all know that Payu probably entertained the idea of having Rain go full-contact right in the middle of the garage, but he still has a race to win so the gloves will have to do for now.

The race is over and Payu has fulfilled his promise to Rain: he has claimed victory unscathed. And now Payu is looking forward to his reward: reaping the benefits all of that glorious foreplay.

By the time they get home, Rain is damn near feral. He’s so turned on that even Payu is pleasantly surprised. And honestly can we blame Rain? We’ve established that Payu looks hot in his racing gear, but he looks even hotter winning in his racing gear. The latter is not lost on Rain and it’s showing in the way he’s kissing and touching Payu.

Ah yes, the touching … let's focus on that.

As they’re kissing, Rain’s hand glides along Payu’s side, pulling him close, and lingering for a bit to feel the fit and structure of the suit against Payu's body — the smooth feel of the elbow pad and the grain of the leather on Payu’s ass.

Side note: I find it fascinating that Payu starts mirroring Rain’s movements for a bit. I don’t know whether they’re just really locked in and hot for each other or it’s meant to be a form of subconscious reassurance for Rain (both. both is good.), but whatever it is seems to be working because Rain’s energy is at 1000%.

Baby boy is so lost in the sauce that even palms and strokes Payu through the suit (he really said "all hands on di—" I'm sorry lol), later pulling him close to feel the full weight of all of that leather on his body.

Now, we could say that this is just the way people touch each other while in the midst of a pre-sex make out session, but that is not the case here. Payu can feel the difference and remarks on it, continuing their earlier conversation at the garage.

Another side note: Imagine being so in tune and obsessed with your partner that you're able to continue conversations hours later as if the passage of time doesn’t exist. Absolute insanity.

Anyway~ naked and deep in throes of passion, it's at this point they switch gears for a bit (pun intended) with it being Rain's turn to do the talking.

From the garage up until now, Payu has a created a safe space for Rain to release his inhibitions (s/o to my girl Natasha Bedingfield 🎶) and explore this new side of himself. And while that's true, the rules established in their D/s relationship are still in place. One of them is no swearing. But Rain is feeling carefree and especially bratty, so he levels up the dirty talk, adding some profanity to spice things up.

They both know that a punishment is inevitable, but there's some nuance involved. Rain is the midst of self-discovery, so Payu opts for a less severe punishment for the swearing. He bites Rain's lips, but he does it with degree of playfulness that encourages Rain to continue. Without the swearing, of course.

Taking the hint and most importantly, staying on theme (i.e. riding Payu like a finely-tuned motorcycle … again, I'm sorry lol), Rain takes over both verbally and physically, and it is absolutely doing it for Payu.

In fact, Payu is so pleased that he offers Rain a lifetime subscription of free riding lessons. All jokes aside, the way that Payu responds (in that he mirrors Rain's word choice) shows that he is enjoying this cosplay scene just as much as Rain.

Thoroughly spent and content after crossing yet another finish line for the day, Payu reassures and encourages Rain once more. And in turn, Rain checks in with Payu confirming that everything was enjoyable for the both of them.

Communication? We love to see it.

Even while basking in the afterglow of their bisexually-lit post-coital bliss, that race suit is still on Rain's mind. Again, can we really blame him? He realizes that the cosplay aspect of it is something that he likes. And although things seemed to come naturally to him, this is still very much uncharted territory for Rain. Payu acknowledges this and provides aftercare in the form of teasing encouragement, promising to purchase a few costumes for later cosplay sessions.

Rain may not be ready to fully accept his newfound kink, but knows that he can explore it further with Payu whenever he's ready. And the open and consistent communication they've had during this time will help them build a solid foundation to do that.

If you made to this point, thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed and I'll catch you in the next one :)

Bonus: An update from the special episode

A few months have passed and as you can see our lovely couple has indeed gone on to further explore their cosplay kink.

AND they even added a few others to the mix. Good for them and may the kinks be ever in their favor.

[dreaisgrayte]

Off the Record | Muzan Kibutsuji x fem!reader

warnings: NSFW, MDNI, food play (with wine), fingering, squirting (first-time ayyyye), oral sex fem! receiving, raw sex, rough sex, reader gets that good stuff, cum on chest

word count: 2.4k

a/n: guys I may have an addiction to the Demon Slayer cast... will I seek help for it...? Absolutely not.

His eyes gleam with the soft glow of the light over your head. Behind him are massive windows that show the cityscape of modern-day Tokyo, the twinkling neon lights like stars you could touch. You’d always dreamed of coming into this building, but never had you thought you’d be sitting here – across from the biggest name in Japan and quite frankly, the world. 

It made your whole body buzz with child-like excitement. As an interviewer, you had to scrape by on nothing until the right opportunities presented themselves. When your boss specifically asked for you to hold the in-house interview, you knew this was your big break.

“So, Mr.Kibutsuji, the paparazzi have difficulty finding you.” He smirks, leaning back against the large couch he sat on across from you – only a table separating you from the mysterious man. 

He peers off to the side, studying a magnificent piece of artwork on his wall. “It’s because I don’t want them to.” He blinks the crimson of his eyes back on your sweet face. His answer is matter-of-fact and if he went on like this, the interview would surely be a bust. 

You laugh politely, looking down at your approved list of questions. The thumping in your chest tells you that this isn’t a good idea, but you set it firmly down on the table in front of you, grinning up at the worldwide star. “Is that so? Mind if I ask you some questions off the record?” You scoot to the edge of your seat, watching as the ravenette perks up at your question. 

It intrigued him. He asked for an inexperienced rookie to simply ask him the questions on the sheet and not pry into his carefully secluded life. Yet, here you were, the questionnaire already on the table with a perky smile on your lips. Muzan feels the corner of his mouth quirk into a grin. He blows out a breath, gesturing in a circular motion freely with one of his hands still strung across the back of the couch. “You’re going to no matter what, so why not give you what you want?” He hums, distracted by the way your knees part ever so slightly to position yourself more comfortably on his furniture. A jolt of electricity pulses through him, shocking him into meeting your intense gaze. 

Muzan Kibutsuji had spent a millennium disregarding the way women made him feel. Never had one interested him enough to break focus on his goals. Sex was something to break the silence of failure, not anything to spend his time on. But you… you were a carefully crafted complexity of sexual frustration. 

He runs his tongue along the inside of his mouth, suddenly parched for a taste of anything. The ringing of your laughter snaps him out of his daze momentarily. “Yes well, I’m known to be pushy when I want something.” 

Me too, Muzan thought. You open your mouth as if you’re about to start, but then you pause, screwing your lips shut. “Before we start, do you mind if we get something to drink? I’m dry as a mouse over here.” You mess with your fingers nervously wondering if that was the correct thing to ask. 

Muzan lifts a brow. “I was unaware mice got dry.” Nevertheless, he lifts himself off the couch. “But that is acceptable. If you’ll follow me to the kitchen?” He walks around the side of the table, offering you a hand. You gulp, tentatively putting your hand in his. 

He guides you to the kitchen island, pulling out a seat for you. You thank him with a nod of your head, gratefully climbing onto the stool. Setting down the tape recorder on the counter, you glance around the silver and white area. The kitchen is just as dim as the living room, the lack of light only making the slight brush of Muzan’s arm against your back send shivers down your spine. “I’ve always wanted to come into this building,” you blurt before cursing lightly under your breath. “Well, er, I mean to say… thank you. I’m grateful for this experience.” You ramble to cover up the embarrassing fact that you basically just admitted you’re poor. Muzan chuckles lowly, the sound rumbling around your head as he sets two wine glasses on the marble countertop. 

“Château Lafite 1869?” He lifts an expensive-looking bottle in the air. You catch a glimpse of the label, a detailed depiction of some sort of mansion with trees around it. He pours the red liquid into the cups, the noise filling the silence. When he’s done he picks both glasses up by the stem of their neck, setting one down in front of you. The aroma is divine. “My turn for a question.” Muzan leans against the lip of the island, staring into the pool of wine in his glass. He swirls it around, glancing up at you. “Just how thankful are you?” He questions.

You smile, bringing the glass to your lips and letting a bit of the wine fill your mouth. Muzan watches you with swept attention. The flavor is complex but you catch a hint of spiciness hit the back of your throat. You set the wine glass down, trying to think of a response. “You’ve done it all wrong,” Muzan’s brows are furrowed as he stalks toward you. He grabs hold of the glass, dipping his finger into it. Your eyes widen when he drags the pad of his finger along your lips. Subconsciously you part your lips, breathing shakily as you daringly dart your tongue out. 

His eyes light up like an inferno, capturing your chin his nostrils flare. “So thankful I’d do anything.” You sputter out against the hard grasp he has on your chin. He rolls his lips under his teeth, huffing out a laugh. 

His free hand grabs your ass, spinning you around on the stool so you’re straddling him. “Is that so darlin’?” He flings your head to the side, the motion making you fall against the back of the counter. “You figure you don’t have what it takes to succeed so you’ll suck my cock, is that it?” He mummers, dragging the back of his hand down your exposed neck. 

Your body heats as you narrow your eyes. “No, that not-” You shut your mouth when his gaze locks onto yours. 

His hands find their way to your thighs, pressing them apart and savoring how your skirt rids up the plush skin. “Oh come on, you even wore a skirt. You knew what you were doing. Off the record? Please, that’s so they won’t hear you screaming my name back at the office,” He squeezes the skin of your thigh, causing you to hiss out in pain. “But I can fix that.” He smirks, running his fingers over the bruised skin. 

You pant heavily as you watch him devour you with his gaze. “We,” You gasp as he somehow rips your shirt to shreds. You regard the fabric of the once nice shirt that covered your torso now falling to the floor – parts of it still clinging to your body. 

The man in front of you runs a hand through his hair, grinning at the sight before him. “That’s more like it,” He hums, plucking the clasp on your back apart, letting your bra slide down your shoulders. “By all means, if you were about to mention the interview, continue asking me questions.” He pushes further between your thighs, flicking your nipple. You groan, the sensitive bud growing stiff. Muzan scoffs. “Though I doubt you’ll be able to.” 

He gathers liquid on two of his fingers, shoving them into your mouth. You squeak at the rough plunge, but your tongue sucks around the earthy tones of the wine. “Hmm, I think I’d rather like the look of you on my counter. Up you go.” You’re being lifted suddenly onto the island. Your skirt is around your hips, the cold of the counter on your ass making you squirm around. “Spread your legs.” He instructs, inspecting how you shyly part your legs, revealing your naked pussy. He scoffs again, tilting his head with a smug expression. 

You turn your cheek against the counter, flushing with embarrassment. “Don’t laugh,” You whine, pouting as the heat of his hand traverses up your leg. 

Muzan’s fingers graze the area of your inner thigh with lecherous intent. “Don’t be embarrassed, I don’t blame you for wanting to fuck me.” Your eyes flutter shut as he draws circles around your mound, playing with your emotions like they were an appetizer. “Besides, I’m going to fuck you real good,” His fingers slide into your pussy, exploring the new area. You groan, squeezing your eyes shut at the sensation. “Hmph, already so wet. You sure did come hot and slick.” He muses, using his thumb to press into your swollen clit. 

A hand clamps over your mouth as you writhe against his ministrations. “Fuck, sir-” Muzan shoves his fingers deeper, aggressively reaching for your throat. His massive hand wraps around the span of your throat, squeezing your windpipes. 

“Call me that again,” He commands, the fire in his eyes now dark and blown out. You huff out tiny breaths, nodding your head. He removes his hand slowly dragging it down your navel, before gripping the side of your thigh. His fingers curl deeper inside of you and your eyes widen. 

A panted moan falls from your lips as he continues. “Just like that, yes, please sir,” He smirks, pushing down on your clit. A yelp echoes around the kitchen at the sudden pressure. 

Muzan lavishes in the way your throat has a red ring around it, marks from him spotting your body in a gorgeous display of possession. “Such a good girl for me,” He growls, slipping his fingers into his mouth to taste your arousal. You watch him with the swell of desire wrapping its claws into your core. “What a wonderful pairing with the Rothschild.” He mutters, grabbing one of the glasses and swigging the liquid into his mouth. 

A devious grin paints his face as he lowers the glass, meeting your gaze. He tips the glass against your stomach, letting the dark red wine trickle tributaries down your greedy cunt. “Don’t worry, I’ll clean you up.” Muzan’s mouth is hungrily lapping at your folds, delighted noises streaming from him as he savors the taste. “Intoxicating,” He huffs, swirling his tongue around your clit before sucking hard on the sensitive area. 

Your throat is sore from the way whimpering moans string together shakily. Your stomach is pulsing with a sensation unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. If he didn’t stop, you felt like you might explode. “M-Muzan,” You begin, huffing out his name. He hums against your folds but doesn’t stop. “Ah, ah,” You start to shake against him, the ravenette pumping his fingers inside of you while licking your clit savagely. “F-ck, m’gonna, hngh haaa ahhh,” 

Muzan’s mouth curls deliciously as your back arches off the counter. Then, with a few bucks of your hips, wetness sprays from your pussy. You shiver as the squirting continues, your body twitching with untouched pleasure. Breathing seems impossible as Muzan licks his lips. “What a wonderful show, but unfortunately we’re still not done.” He pulls you down the counter, lining the apex of your thighs against the bulge in his pants. 

Your eyes widen, he can’t be serious. You were barely conscious after whatever just happened. Did he expect you to go all night? What was this man made of? He frees his cock, the tip slapping against your sensitive cunt. You squeeze your eyes shut. How is it that big? It didn’t feel that big when it was pressed against your thigh. Holy shit. Was he going to put that thing in you? “You’re gonna take all of it,” he begins, pushing the head against your slick. You blink open your eyes, pushing yourself up on your elbows to observe his length disappear inside. A strained hiss slips past your lips, Muzan rolling his hips into yours. “Fuck, your pussy should do all our interviews from now on, damn,” He groans, digging the nails of his fingers into your flesh. “You’re gobbling me up,” He meets your gaze, a growing rhythm snapping his cock into you. You throw your head back, moaning his name like it was a prayer. He felt like he’d been doing this a lot longer than any person you’d ever been with. 

Muzan pushes his thick length further, humming in satisfaction as your walls flutter around him. You couldn’t think, all rational thought was flung out of his huge windows the moment he pulled out that bottle of wine. “Ngh, f’so good, mmmngah,” 

He finds it delightful the way your pussy grabs his cock like it wants more. You had a magnificently fucked out face, your eyes rolled back in your head as your mouth hung open. With each compression of your chest, a hoarse whine pushes back out. Frankly, it was music to his ears. So he grabs the recorder you’d set down earlier, pressing the little red button. He grins as the timer starts ticking again. “Such a good slut for me,” He muses, slapping his balls against your ass as he pounds your pretty pussy. “Your cunt is lovin’ this,” He thrusts deeper and deeper until all you can manage is mewling little noises. 

As you grow closer to your second climax, you rest your back on the counter, enjoying the way the cool stone feels against your sweaty back. “Come on darlin’, is that all you got? This why you wanted me off the record? To fuck you silent?” He chuckles, glancing at the recorder next to your trembling thighs. “What a sneaky vixen, is this how you treat all your clients mmm? Offering your pretty pussy with fluttering doe eyes?” He groans, nearing his own wash of pleasure. “Well, on the record, you belong to me now. Got it? You’re my whore whenever I want.” 

His thrusts grow rapid, burrowing his cock inside of you like his life depended on it. With this life of failure, he’d finally found something worth trying to succeed for. Muzan could feel the old vigor seeping into his veins. He pulls out, pumping his cock until a strangled moan escapes his lips, cum landing on your breasts. He’s a panting mess as he takes in what he’s done to you. A puddle of Rothschild and your arousal soaks the wood of the floor. He picks up the tape recorder, bringing it to his lips. “You hear that, Hashira scum? I made your bitch scream my name.” 

[strawberrystepmom]

nsfw - mdni. reader and gojo are in a semi established relationship it’s a whole thing. reader squirted on his face and he won’t shut up about it. 834 words.

“Any questions?”

Yaga looks around the room at the group of sorcerers in front of him, yourself and Satoru included despite your responsibilities with your respective students, with his arms folded. Someone on the opposite side of the room clears their throat and you don’t bother to look, instead sighing quietly when you hear Gojo’s voice from behind you.

“Bored yet?”

Rolling your eyes, you reach up to try and pinch his cheek to get him away from you but he only bunches closer and you miss. Pinching the soft skin of his earlobe as he leans over your shoulder, you quickly drop your hand and put it in your lap to bring some level of professionalism back to your appearance.

Your efforts make no difference to the man watching you fidget beneath his blindfolded gaze and he continues, whispering right beneath your ear.

“I know I’m bored,” he admits, to the surprise of absolutely no one, “and I keep thinking about last night.”

Turning your face enough that your eyes meet his covered ones, a warning glance is leveled but it only makes him offer you a toothy smile in return. He drapes his opposite arm over your empty shoulder but you don’t put up a fight, afraid to draw attention to yourself in front of a room full of people who shouldn’t even know the two of you spent the night together.

“Can we discuss this later?”

The pleading edge to your tone only pushes him further, his dangling hand now inching back up your arm and wrapping around your shoulder.

“Don’t be shy, princess, you should be proud of yourself.” You groan quietly, stomach turning with equal parts of heat and anxiety recalling exactly what he’s talking about. “Made a big mess all over this pretty face, didn’t you?”

Closing your eyes, you pretend you don’t hear him at all and instead choose to focus on listening to the questions regarding a smaller mission across the country being asked by one of the grade three sorcerers.

Your mind drifts elsewhere, though, to big blue eyes peering up at you while your thighs were spread over his big fat mouth last night. Those hands were full of your hips, lush skin spilling between them, and your cunt was being devoured as if it were his last meal. His enthusiasm was so contagious that it even caught you up in it, your releases coming in spurts of liquid drenching his face and chest with each high he helped you drift to.

Crossing your legs tightly, you pull your mind back into reality by force and try once again to focus despite the menace at your back.

“Didn’t you?” He pesters again after your prolonged silence and you shift, trying to get him off of you and that finally captures the attention of the rest of the room, several heads turning in your direction.

“Is there an issue, Gojo?”

He scoffs at the insinuation that he’s the only one causing a ruckus, you always have been one of Yaga’s favorites so of course you avoid the reprimand, but leans back into his own chair nevertheless.

“Just waitin’ on you to wrap this up.”

An unamused chuckle leaves the principal and you listen to the rustle of clothing from behind you that indicates Satoru is folding his arms over his chest.

“If you’d been paying attention you would have known that we’re done for today.”

Everyone begins standing and Satoru grabs you as you do, hand wrapping around your bicep. Pulling you in his direction, you frown but he doesn’t stop and instead leans down enough that he’s mouth level with your ear once again.

“I’ll make you do it again tonight, I’m feeling a little parched after all this.”

Despite his embarrassing antics, you can’t help but half smile and look up at him through your lashes. He’s incorrigible in every way but you find it too charming to be angry.

“Okay,” you agree softly. “But for the rest of the day you have to leave me alone.”

He nods and you feel grateful that for once he agreed without a hassle, letting go of your arm and heading toward the exit. You exhale, relieved, but he turns on his heel and looks straight at you and the group of your peers standing at your back attempting to make their exit too.

“I can still smell you on me.”

Satoru smirks, sniffing loudly and rubbing his hand over his chin before rounding the opened door and you feel your face heat as everyone turns to look at you, faces giving away their various levels of distress.

Groaning, you slump and your hands slap against the outsides of your thighs.

“He’s talking about perfume! He’s talking about perfume…you saw him earlier.”

An unconvinced murmur seems to be the shared opinion of the entire group that is now making its way out the door, leaving you alone to catch your breath, attempting to explain yourself futile.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Precious Truths: Part 15

Fandom: Bridgerton

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x F!Reader

Summary: After your father finds out you’ve been writing under a male pseudonym, he threatens to marry you off to an atrocious man unless you find yourself a husband within a month’s time.

Series Masterlist

You and Benedict decided to go riding today. Eloise wanted to stay back and read, thus leaving you and Benedict alone. You weren't sure if this was a blessing or a curse.

In the past few years, it's clear that Benedict has matured greatly, however, you still see glimmers of the boy you fell in love with all those years ago. He's still playful and loves to tease you, but he also knows when to give you rest and let you think.

These new qualities he's adapted makes your heart stir and it's driving you mad.

You're currently resting at the creek where you like to rest on your rides with Bluebell. You guide her to the water and she leans over, drinking from the creek. Monsieur Montclair's horse, Jack, follows Benedict to the water, mimicking Bluebell.

Benedict is parched as he gulps down the water from his water pouch. You giggle, reaching up and wiping the trail of water cascading down his neck.

Realizing how intimate that gesture was, you clear your throat and look back at the creek, "I've come here a lot lately after James' passing. When I need a moment to myself."

Benedict looks around, the tall trees looming over, the sunlight peeking through the branches. He nods, "I can see why. It's very serene here."

You take your satchel and plop underneath the usual tree you sit under, "I've also been attempting to write again."

"And how's that going?" Benedict asks as he sits beside you.

"I have some lines here and there that I like, but putting them all together is the problem."

"Can I see?"

You snort, "Absolutely not."

He gives you a pout, "Why?"

"Because they're not ready yet!"

"Y/N, how many times have I shown you my unfinished work? Come now, it's only fair you do the same," he reaches out for your bag and you pull it away.

"Nope!"

He tries again, reaching further out and you keeping it out of his reach, "Y/N, don't be difficult!"

"I should be saying that to you!" you exclaim with laughter. You yelp as you fall over and Benedict crawls on top of you trying to grab your back.

You're laughing, "Benedict! Quit it!"

"Not until you show me your work!"

With as much force, you toss the bag and look at Benedict. Who scrambles to his feet and you're rushing after him. He gets to the bag first and now it's his turn to keep the bag away from you. You're chasing him around trees and brush, your laughter echoing around you.

"Benedict Bridgerton, you come back here at once!"

"Who are you, my mother?!" he cries out as he pulls your notebook out of the bag, dropping the bag onto the ground as he continues to keep away from you.

"You leave me no choice!" you jump and tackling him, both of you falling onto the grass with a thud.

Benedict groans in pain, "Was that really necessary?"

"Yes!" you cry out as you grab the notebook from his hand. You sit up, straddling him and promptly slip it into the cleavage of your dress.

"Cheater," Benedict grumbles with a frown.

You stick your tongue out at him and then realize the position that you're in, "Oh," you climb off him, cheeks heating up in embarrassment. You brush any leaves and dirt from your dress and clear your throat, "I'll show you my work when I'm ready, Ben." You stick out your hand to help him up.

"Fine," he says with a sigh, he takes your hand and rises from the ground. He dusts off his pants and look at the sky, "The sun is starting to set. Shall we head back?"

You nod, "Yes, that's probably best." You two walk together back to the horses.

Benedict bumps his shoulder to yours, "So, how are you feeling?"

"A lot better. Your presence has really helped...and Eloise! Yours and Eloise's presence has helped me a lot. Thank you."

"Of course," he responds with a grin. The two of you reach the horses, who have been waiting patiently for you.

Benedict helps you mount Bluebell and then goes to mount Jack. You two ride back to the estate in a comfortable silence.

___________________

At dinner, you talk to Eloise more than you talk with Benedict. You've felt like you've been neglecting her, which isn't fair.

"I take it you enjoy the library?"

"It's incredible! I haven't seen that many books in one room!" she looks to the Montclairs, "Can I stay here forever?" The older couple laugh.

"And how about you, Mister Bridgerton? Have you been enjoying your stay?" Monsieur Montclair asks.

Benedict gives him a polite smile, "Very much, monsieur. Your home is wonderful and it makes me feel relieved to know how well taken care of Y/N is here."

"Thank you, that's very kind," Madame Montclair says, "So, Mister Bridgerton, how have the marriage prospects been going for you? I hear your mother is trying very hard to find you a match."

Benedict suddenly feels nervous. It feels wrong talking about this with you around. He doesn't want to hurt you by potentially reminding you of James or-

"I hear all of London has been throwing themselves at Benedict," you say jokingly, which causes him to whip his head towards you.

"How do you know that?"

"Penelope," you respond with a smirk as you sip from your glass.

Eloise groans, "The amount of women that have come up to me to get information regarding my brother is so annoying and rude! The amount of times he's used me as a shield!

You chuckle and look to Benedict, "Can't handle all the attention, Ben?"

He smiles, "You know I never cared for it."

"Well if you do find a match, you'll have to let me speak to her first. I need to make sure she can handle you and your family."

He laughs, "Yes, of course, I'll be sure to remember that."

While you and he banter, Monsieur and Madame Montclair give each other a knowing look.

__________________________

You've just gotten ready for bed when Madame Montclair knocks at your door. With your robe wrapped tightly around you, you open it.

"Is something wrong?"

"No, of course not, cheri. I just wanted to discuss something with you."

"Alright," you sit at the edge of your bed.

"Your father and I have noticed that you and Mister Bridgerton have a special connection."

"We've been friends since childhood."

"Yes, we are aware, but not that kind of connection." She gives you a pointed look that makes you feel like a scolded young child.

"Well...my relationship with Ben had always been platonic, but my feelings for him were romantic for the longest time, until I met James. The day of the wedding, Benedict confessed his love to me and then walked out of my life. He broke my heart. I do love James, mama, I swear-"

"Cheri, I never doubted your love for James. But I can see that your love for Benedict is something much deeper."

You nod, "Having Ben back in my life has brought on feelings that I thought were long gone."

Madame Montclair approaches you and grabs your hands, giving them a squeeze, "Perhaps this is your second chance, cheri. Papa and I have always told James to fight for what he loves. We are going to tell you to do the same. You take care of that heart of yours. And know you will always be part of our family."

Hearing and processing Madame Montclair's words felt like a burden was being lifted from your shoulders. You stood up, wrapping your arms around the older woman, "Thank you so much, mama. I'm very grateful to have you as my mother."

"And we're thankful to have you as a daughter," she presses a kiss to your head and it makes your heart clench a bit. If your mother was still alive, you were sure she'd like Madame Montclair.

[occamstfs]

Legacies Are Supposed To Change

Another fratification, This is one more of a prep to slob tf ! -Occam

My father was a member of Kappa Epsilon Gamma, and my grandfather before him was practically a founding member. I am going to be the third generation Astor to not only pledge but eventually become president. My family donates enough to the chapter to more than pave my way to the top. My only question now is, why are they making me pledge.

The current president, James, clearly didn’t care for me implying that I was getting in regardless, stopping just short of calling me out in front of the other pledges. That’s the only mistake he’s going to make though, when I’m in the frat I’ll completely clean house. That dunce will be lucky to even still be in the frat. I’m already old enough to be the president anyway, I’m sure my father will help the other alumni to agree.

Despite the president’s protests I have already secured a room in the house and I will say the room does seem to be exquisite. The only detail out of place is a pitcher of beer sitting on my desk. The head is still frothy so it must have been put there recently. Before I moved in my father warned me against partying too hard, we have a reputation to uphold after all, and I am not even a big drinker. 

The amber pitcher in front of me, ice cold without a piece of ice within, is more enticing than it ever should be though. The president must have done something to it. Absolutely. But, I  am awfully parched all of a sudden. I feel my mouth rapidly dry as I move closer to inspect the glass. A sip couldn’t hurt, it’s just beer after all. It’s probably that faux president admitting defeat already, no one can stand up to an Astor and prosper after all. 

I raise the pitcher to my mouth, struggling to raise it without spelling as it is heavier than I thought beer could be. The head spills over my face as I tilt the pitcher to drink. It runs down my cheeks and off my chin not that I could notice or care though. This beer is unlike anything I’ve tasted before. It's so, I need more right now. I force as much of it as I can down my throat before needing to take a break to breathe. The brief respite only gives me time to do something I thought unthinkable for a man of such poise as myself, I let out an impossibly loud burp.

I hear frat bros cheering outside my room in response “Yeah bro! Let’s go Tank!” I feel my face redden from the embarrassment of being heard doing something so profoundly basal. I scoff and roll my eyes as I notice how itchy my face suddenly is. It must be the beer starting to dry where I spilled it.

I go to wipe it off and notice it is far scratchier than it has any right to be. It burns even. I feel my face grow an even deeper shade of red as the beer must start to hit my system. I put the pitcher down and start to scratch my cheeks. I’ve never even had to shave before! Us Astor men don’t even grow peach fuzz! It  would be unbecoming to even try to grow a beard! I look in the mirror to assess whatever my situation and find an uncomfortable face staring back at me. That can’t be right. Thick brown hair is pushing out forming a chinstrap that must have taken months to grow! I lean in closer to inspect my face as another burp tries to force its way out of my throat.

Unwilling to embarrass myself once again I fight to keep it down. As I struggle against the gas in my esophagus I notice that my stomach is starting to bloat up. I see the thick brown hair in my beard start to seep up through my sideburns, staining my perfect blonde coifs into some dirty oafish brown. I gasp as my thin eyebrows rapidly burst into heavy caterpillars over my eyes which almost allows the burp to escape.

Clenching my jaw as I feel my stomach starts to press against my dress shirt. I audibly groan as I hear my bros outside start to cheer once more, something about me drinking the pitcher. They left it for me didn't they! What was I supposed to do! This burst of rage allows me to swallow the burp my neck thickening as it forces its way back down. I look down to see the button pop off of my suit jacket as my stomach starts to grumble. I feel woozy watching my torso start to barrel out, what happened to my lithe lacrosse build? My mind feels heavy as I inspect my growing body, I start to smell some vile body odor start to come from somewhere. One of these oafs absolutely needs to invest in cologne. I sniff around before my head finds itself in my own pit as I take a deep inhale and find the root of the stick. But that can’t be right?

My arms bloat out straining my dress shirt as I toss off my coat. I raise my arm behind my head to inspect my armpits further which creates a tear right on the seam, exposing my pit just in time for me to see my few blonde underarm hairs rapidly thicken to the same brown now covering my face. It’s almost funny? I can barely stop myself from laughing as I watch hair spread like a jungle in my pit, creating a haven for odor my body now apparently produces.

Is this because I burped? Is it some kind of sick joke? I’m struggling to find any reason for what is happening when I hear the zipper of my pants give out. Apparently my stomach isn't the only part of me bloating. I need to stop this. Maybe, maybe if I finish the beer without burping again I’ll go back to normal. That, that makes sense right?

I quickly grab the picture and do not notice how much thicker my hand is. Brown hairs sprouting on my hand and knuckles as my fingers grow hammy and lose the dexterity I have long honed. As I raise the glass to my face my stomach finally blows off the buttons as a thick treasure trail forms a peak halfway up my meaty torso. My body odor grows thicker in the air as I start to drink the rest of the glass. 

I feel my ass thicken as it forms a much weighter cushion in my seat, in the other side I feel as my balls rapidly grow to supply my body with the testosterone my body demands. My cock thickens but gets no longer as the beer dribbles down my face spilling all over my chest where curly dark hair spreads out from the center in a large diamond.

I finish the pitcher and shout to celebrate my conquest, “I did it fuckers! I passed the test,” as I shatter the pitcher on the floor of my bedroom, one of the pledges’ll clean that shit up anyway. 

I stand and rip the strained pants off my body as the shirt tears itself off of its own accord, no longer able to even try to hide my party bod. My bros burst into the room and start cheering “Tank, Tank, Tank!” Making me realize that duh, they’re talking about me. My bros have always called me that I burp again, now performativity as my body finishes changing. My eyes lose any pretentious sparkle they still held as they darken to a dull brown. My vocal chords grow visibly thicker, just showing from underneath the thick beard hanging off my face. A clear boner starts to grow in my shorts, not like my bros care.

I shake my package at them with my hand as I finish burping. Now that I’m in the frat I can show my bros that I’m not a fuckin’ prude like my dad and the other fuckin’ geezers. It’s gonna be a great year, now let’s go see which of these bitch pledges are Kappa material!

[dadsbongos]

Idk if u do anon requests given ur rules but I am a scared lil guy when it comes to sending ppl asks. I know you don't need to feel obligated to write it, but I wanted to share my silly little musings with someone at least, if you don't mind ^^

My brain doesn't want to shut up about the idea of a monster reader akin to Anansi's goatman joining the Touden party with malintent, only to be intimidated out of their plans by the fact the party constantly eats monsters. Despite them wanting to run, they're stuck there because the party will realize they've been infiltrated and probably eat them like all the other monsters if they find out.

i absolutely love anon requests! they are so lovely to receive i just kind of write depending on my current interest at the moment

3.4 k words / warnings - gore right off the bat, reader goes through psychological horror at the hands of laios touden, laios forcing the party into extreme situations

summary - that time laios domesticated a monster and everyone was mad at him. ~~~

You’re starving. You’re parched. You’re dizzy.

A woman is screaming in the corner, her eyes bulging from her head and hands clamped over her gaping mouth. Knees wobbling before she collapses to the ground, palms scraping against the floor in a final ditch effort to save herself. She screams louder when your head slowly rolls -- slanted eyes still on her frantic form.

Long fingers scoop from the bowl of a half-foot’s gut, you cup shreds of meat and stringing firm, warm innards to your mouth while maintaining focus on the woman.

No matter how much you eat, you’re starving. No matter what you drink, you’re parched.

The only solace you find in hearty meals is that the pressurized ache behind your skull fades, and with it goes the dazed sensation. You can walk firm and tall. You can stretch out and speak.

You can speak, “Come… here…”

She freezes. Wide eyes scrambling over you. Chest twitching with hyperventilation, “We gave you the half-foot! What else do you want?!”

Swallowing chunks of gummy flesh trapped in your teeth, you speak again, “Come… Now… Come…”

“No, please,” she whimpers, snot and tears dripping, “Please, please, please!”

She rocks onto her back, tumbling around to her feet and sprawling for a weapon. She finds one the big man used, she holds it up and her arms shake under the weight. She doesn’t pose a real threat that way -- she hadn’t lifted a finger to help the group fight.

Rising onto two feet, you tower over her and reach out, cupping her face with both hands. Thumbing the fat on her cheeks and pulling her ears, you croak,

“Mine…”

. . .

A red dragon used to plague this floor, you don’t hear him anymore. You feel confident to venture from your cave for more meal.

Recently, the hunger has gotten so bad you’ve begun drooling over yourself. Despite not caring for your appearance, the feeling is bothersome. The sensation of saliva-matted fur around your muzzle reminds you of the vacancy in your stomach.

Bravely creeping from the lulling warmth of your cavern, you come into the open grass and watch dire wolves nose at Barometz stalks. Unripe, ruby fruits shine under leaking light from higher places. Gold bounces off the fur of ripened fruits. You’re sure they’ll be harvested soon. Your only derision with unripe Barometz fruits is the smaller lamb. Even then, you cannot complain when the wolves more than make up for a lack of meat.

Just as you set to slide down the mossy wall, a red blur hastens toward the middle of the field. Large, pointed black ears twitch which gives you pause. The pale skin you can make out and thick cloth stresses to you that it's a human, but those ears and the hunched posture tell otherwise. Either way, it will have meat.

A man approaches, rushing behind the red blur, his tin shell clinks as he runs. He’s yelling. He can speak.

Long, gold hair and blue furs run after him -- two more men after the blonde woman. A group. A group made of thick bodies, sans the weird-looking red one and the child. No matter, they can fill your shriveled intestine while you divy the thick ones.

Or perhaps just the stout one could fill you. His broad frame is swollen with muscle and he looks well-kept: strong and lively.

Just the thought of cinching his fat thigh makes you swallow another well of spittle. As the wolves close in, the red and blue ones cut from the group, and you merely watch. Dead meat is still meat. If one party kills the other then all you have to do is interfere before they start eating their game.

The tin man gets low, on all fours, before yelping and barking like a rabid beast. He snarls and flails -- startling away the few wolves straggling behind.

After robing, you slide down the crag only to hiss as jagged rocks snag new skin. Spending so much time in your natural form makes the transition to a new face that much more difficult to acclimate to.

You’d lick up the thin blood trails if the three remaining bodies weren’t now gazing at you in shock.

The furthest away, the brown-headed child, scowls at your very presence. While the tin man seems to be fighting back an eager approach.

“Who are you?” the child bites from the back of the pack, eyes narrow and harsh.

An axe’s glint draws your attention to the stocky one. He’s raised his weapon against you.

Flashing yourself a downward glance, you confirm you’re in a human form. Are humans more distrusting the lower they venture?

You open your mouth, then think better of it, pointing to your throat and shaking your head.

“Mute, huh?” again, the child speaks before casting the tin man a look. His instant deferral makes you wonder if the tall one is the leader. Then the child looks to the short one, “Senshi…”

If that’s a secret code among them, you cannot make it out.

What do you look like?

Who did you last steal?

You mask another cursory study of yourself as a frustrated huff and sniffle -- the woman. The healer woman. These all seem to be men, and men are usually softer when you take the form of a woman.

You sniffle louder, frowning and covering your face.

“Ah,” the child stumbles back, “Senshi!”

“What?” the short one gruffs. So that must be its name, not a code.

“Do something!”

“Did you lose your party?” the tin man approaches instead of ‘Senshi’. His face is gentle, nothing but patience written in the low lid of his eyes.

Pathetically, you nod.

“Laios!” the child hisses. Is that another name?

“I’m Laios,” the tin man instantly confirms, then gesturing toward the child, “That’s Chilchuck. And this is Senshi,” his brows draw, “How’d you get down here by yourself?”

How did you meet this woman?

Wiping away cold blotches in your waterline, you point upwards before dramatically slamming the hand downward.

“You fell?” Chilchuck sounds suspicious.

Oh, well. Womanly charms (tears) can’t work on kids, you suppose.

“It’s possible,” Laios defends.

“If there was a faster way to get us down here, don’t you think I would’ve taken us through there?”

The pair glare at each other with Senshi a silent third party, though his axe remains raised. Abruptly, a sickening growl cracks through the air. Borderline blood curdling in the low, raw gurgle seeping from your stomach.

Manufacturing embarrassment, you cup the pouch of your tummy and shake your head apologetically.

“Are you hungry?” Laios asks redundantly, then offers a hand. His smile is just as soft as it had been moments ago, but something about its serenity ignites your brain.

A tingle races down your spine. Breath sputtering a moment and guts coiling unpleasantly. You can feel sweat bead your forehead regardless of the chilly breeze.

You haven’t felt like this since you first opened your goopy eyes to the dungeon’s lower levels. Like he’s about to spear you through the chest. Like he’s twice your size.

Blinking free from your stupor, you nod clumsily and take his hand. It's warm. Yours is clammy.

“Is this a good idea…?” Chilchuck looks up at Senshi, wringing his hands.

Before you can properly hear Senshi’s response, Laios is already pulling you towards the cavern that red blur darted out of. He climbs in first and pulls you in -- Senshi politely avoids looking up while following after. You sit between Laios and Chilchuck in the cavern, watching Laios’ hands skim over the large, unripe Barowitz. Without considering the action, you find yourself licking your lips as he leans his face against the fruit. His cheek puffing out.

Suddenly, his gaze is honed on you again, “As soon as Marcille and Izutsumi are back, we can start eating.”

You nod excitedly. Once the other two are back, you can release and consume. A group of five is sure to satiate you at long last. You’ve never seen such a large collection of bodies. You won’t ever have to eat again after this meal.

Your excitement is tempered when you catch a glimpse of Chilchuck in your peripherals.

Child. A child is down here?

Don’t humans usually put the lives of their young before their own?

You point at Chilchuck, hoping the child will relax once you demonstrate some maternal instinct. Mothers want their kids to eat, right? It sounds right. Your maker always watched you eat before diving in Himself.

“Chilchuck?” Laios murmurs, “What about him?”

Instinctually, your mouth opens again, only to clack shut again. You tap your lips then point to him again. Then you drag a finger through the smatter of dirt and dust along the cold floor. A risky move to write, but you’ve practiced well enough to pass.

EAT FIRST

Laios raises a brow at you, “Why would he eat first?”

CHILD

Laios smiles wider than even before.

Chilchuck scoffs, an overt anger filling his tone, “I’m not a child! How ignorant are you?!”

Oh, no. No, no, no.

Is he just a very short human like Senshi? But how is he so slight? How are his ears so big?

What is he?

Before any response can form from any person in the tunnel, the blue and red ones creep out from the darkness. Laios stands and approaches the pair. Blonde woman, the variety that has pointy ears -- you’ve seen lots of them down here -- continuously glances at you. She murmurs to Laios while the red one is leaning against her.

It stands on its hinds like a human, it groans like a human, it looks like a human sans the tail hanging between its legs and ears pointing upward. It's skinny, whatever it is. It was fast, looks like it has a useful face to steal.

You watch the group jabber amongst themselves, with the woman heatedly berating her fellow man for taking you in. Despite her harsh words, Laios’ face never falls: whether he’s truly so forgiving or just thrives off negative attention you’re unsure.

“I just have a good feeling,” his eyes pierce through you, and that tickle up your spine returns.

“Oh, good,” she grumbles.

“In any case, we’re all hungry,” at the prompt, Senshi moves towards the Barometz and steadies a hand against it, “I wanted to harvest a Barometz, but all the ripe ones were taken by dire wolves.”

Senshi punctures the fruit’s skin with a blade, cutting along the circumference, “Let’s see if we can cook it.”

Once halved, the side not supported by Senshi’s hand slips open with the premature lamb limply collapsing to the floor. Gelatinous bones jiggling against rock.

The thing with fur leans forward, “There’s a little sheep in the vegetable!”

“Aah! I can’t!” blue one grimaces, covering her face while Chilchuck gags, “For completely different ethical reasons, I refuse!”

You quirk a brow at her interjection -- food is food, no? They can dole out the fruit and get plump before you finally soothe your own aching gut. You’re almost tempted to rip back tight, uncomfortable skin and end the woman’s misery when Senshi’s voice calls to you.

“First cut up the Barometz ribs into whatever size proportion you want. Season them, sear them, add wine over top, cover the pan, and then braise them,” you watch as he casually defiles a creature he cannot understand, sizzling it and burning away faux fats.

You’ve never seen humans that bite back.

No matter how harmless a Barometz is, you’re in shock to see him searing up what is technically a monster.

“Next, boil the remainder of the fruit, peel off the skin, and cut it into chunks. Add some garlic and simmer it all together. With the sauce finished, you take that, pour it over the meat and… it’s ready!”

Barometz Balut.

“This helping’s yours, cat girl. Go on, take it.”

“What’s all the weird-looking stuff?”

While Senshi and ‘cat girl’ are locked in a debate, the man hands the woman in blue a serving as well. Her lips are stretched downward, her brows knotted towards the center of her forehead.

“Come on, Marcille, you’ve eaten Harpy eggs before. This should be easy!”

Harpy… eggs. Their young? What benefit does a Harpy egg provide? There is no meat. To eat that is to consume a beast simply because they can.

“That was out of desperation! I didn’t like them!”

She consumes despite it being unfulfilling? That, truly, is eating solely to prove it possible.

Your hands shake at your sides at the thought.

“That’s not true,” Laios denies.

“Okay, fine, they were… ugh. They were fine!”

“It’s okay, we all liked them. I think my favorite has been the red dragon, though,” Laios is positively beaming at you now.

The red dragon. He’s why the field’s warden has gone missing. Your shock is not lost on any of the group.

When your horror is evident, Chilchuck and the woman -Marcille- shoot forward while waving their hands around. As if to physically bat away any unsavory accusations.

“It was seasoned and cut up!” Chilchuck shouts, “We didn’t even eat all of it!”

Marcille nods rapidly, clutching the wood slat of food to her chest, “Yeah, we only had a little bit compared to how big it was!”

They scavenge the young and waste a beast as magnificent as the red dragon?

“We ate it because it ate my sister,” he’s still smiling.

A raucous chorus of his name is shrieked in protest.

Your breathing spikes, now certainly slick with sweat and chest thudding -- forget finally ending your hunger with them, how could they squander the red dragon? How could they still starve after eating such a large monster? Your palms find the floor, eyes flicking to the opening of the cavern.

When your gaze returns, Laios is staring at you. Wide amber eyes melting through your facade -- he knows, he must. How long has he known? Why not kill you as soon as he figured it out? Why lure you in?

The red one -Izutsumi- tilts its head at you, nose twitching. It smells the influx of sweat and dread.

You shoot up, opening your mouth for a husky growl, “Away… get… away…”

“I knew it!” Laios stands, “Oh, wow, I thought goatmen were extinct!”

He’s going to slice you open and they’ll eat you for fun. They won’t finish you. They’ll leave you for your maker to find.

“Goatman?!” Chilchuck wails, “You invited a goatman into the party?! Laios, I could strangle you!”

He’d kill his own ally?!

“So cool, though, and so far pretty harmless. I’ve heard they can be domesticated by feeding them brains every now and again.”

“Brain…” you shiver, flailing back into the wall, “No… Brain… No…”

Laios turns to Senshi with a preppy little smile, “It’s not an exact match, but the Barometz has something akin to a brain.”

These things are demons. No wonder your maker wants to devour them all.

Why eat a brain? You’d have to destroy the skull for that, and you need to keep the skull intact to steal a human’s face.

Senshi shrugs and hacks open the lamb’s skull with a loud crack, making you flinch back and yelp.

“First, chop the brain into four parts, season with olive oil and sprouts. Roll the brains in egg and wrap with bread. Normally you’d use crumbs or flour, but we’ll have to make due. Then fry in the pan with more oil over medium heat until…”

Laios snatches the brains from Senshi to shove onto your lap,

“It’s ready!”

FRIED LAMB BRAINS.

Senshi watches you carefully from beneath the shadow of his helmet. Meanwhile Marcille and Izutsumi are poised to attack with Chilchuck lingering in the very back. Those three are only additional to the presence of Laios, who looms above you with sword in hand. Eyes fiery with exhilaration, though he’s visibly ready to cut you down should you try escaping.

Your stomach echoes through the cavern. Drool pools and oozes through the gaps in your teeth, it smells good. So, with truly no other choice, you bring the fried brains to your mouth.

Oddly sweet, the juices are warm and electric on your tongue. You let out a soft hum and shovel more of the brains back. Again, you hum. You tip the wood slat and scoop all the meat down your gullet, licking the excess juices up and even sweeping crumbs into your mouth.

By the time your meal was picked clean, you felt something entirely new.

“Full…” you look up in amazement, wide eyed at Laios, “Full…”

A small hand cracks against Laios’ silver back, Chilchuck shouting in sharp, throaty tones that are completely unfamiliar to you. Laios frowns and murmurs about being sworn out in a foreign tongue.

Then Izutsumi yanks away, whipping her head back and forth, “Reeks in here!”

Chilchuck points at you, though is still glaring up at Laios, “And it smells!”

“Goatmen smell like goats,” Laios frowns.

Marcille hesitantly hangs a loose, thin blanket in front of you -- it takes you a moment to realize human skin is peeling off you in chunks. The faint scent of copper growing into a heavy, rotten stench of open carcass as you shed the woman’s skin. You’ve never prematurely ejected before. Normally, once you wear a person’s face you’re stuck there until it withers. Or you peel it off.

The smell gets so bad that Chilchuck and Izutsumi huff and storm to a neighboring hole in the cliff’s rockface. Marcille has to press her nose into the crook of her elbow, the sheet shaking as you stretch free from the woman’s body.

Unbeknownst to you, there is a silent battle between Marcille and Senshi. Until Laios, of course, breaks it.

“Why are you two glaring at each other?”

You rise to a stand, watching Marcille cast you a set of distrusting eyes before seething, “What should we do about it?”

“It ain’t doing anything wrong.”

“It’s a monster!” she turns suddenly towards Laios, “Didn’t you say all monsters are dangerous?!”

“They are,” Laios reaches towards his sword, squeezing the hilt and eyes sunken to the floor, “but it’s not like we were in real danger. Goatmen are pretty harmless in human forms.”

Marcille makes a startled groan behind clenched teeth, hands jerking out towards you.

“Fed goatmen are completely docile,” Laios reasons, “They only kill to eat. They’re more like an animal than a traditional monster.”

“So how do we know it won’t kill us when it gets hungry again?!”

Laios’ eyes seem to burst alight with stars, “Because we’ve fed it already! Before they were endangered some people would go down into dungeons just to domesticate and breed them for the surface. Once you prove yourself formidable and trustworthy, they’re pretty unwilling to try fighting you.”

“It can talk,” Senshi adds, “We can’t kill it just because.”

Marcille’s face goes red, a frustrated sigh leaving her lips, “It barely talks.”

You were taught words by your maker. He speaks with more clarity and ease than you do.

“It still talks,” Senshi doesn’t budge, “It ain't attacking either.”

For a moment, you contemplate killing these people.

Immediately, you’re repulsed by the mere thought. To see their soft faces and warm bodies torn open and to be smeared with their insides is so undesirable you heave. Brain rushing up your throat before you can swallow it down.

“Marcille live,” you caw, the woman looks up at you and you repeat yourself at her blank stare thinking she misunderstood you, “Want Marcille… alive…”

“Aw,” her coo is uneven, lips twitching in a way that, if you were better at reading people, would make you think she doesn’t trust you, “That’s actually kind of… nice?”

“I read they were loyal but I didn’t think the bonding process was so fast,” Laios marvels. Reaching out to lay a hand against your snout, he beams -- this has been a close second beast he’s dreamt of meeting. Number one still being a minotaur.

He’d been content to keep this interaction a daydream, since goatmen were thought extinct -- but look at you! Never had he thought something mythed to descend from demons could be so docile, and so…

“So cool…” Laios is boiling over with pure ecstasy as you tip your head down to fit more comfortably into his palm.

Senshi gathers the group’s remaining bags and announces he’ll re-settle camp with Chilchuck and Izutsumi. Although there’s a bonus pep in his step as he ponders jotting this whole day in his journal.

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Chapter 8

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore, vomiting, child injury, allusions to gunshot wound, pregnancy complications A/N: Okay, this one turned out to be a monster. My brain is fried so any mistakes I made, I'll fix later. I really really hope Daryl isn’t OOC here. I tried to put myself in his shoes, knowing what I know about him. Anyway! On with the show!

Moodboard by @dannyo000 💙

You stayed closer to the RV while the group had gathered around Carol to provide support. While you wanted desperately to be there for her, you couldn’t help but feel a strong sense of guilt. Your baby was safe inside your belly while her Sophia was lost in the forest. 

Rick had dispatched the two walkers that had scared the little girl into running, but found her missing when he returned. He had since taken Daryl, Glenn, and Shane back into the trees. Daryl was a tracker and a damn good one. If anyone stood a chance at finding her, it was him. 

“You okay?” 

You startled from your thoughts to see Andrea staring down at you with concern etched onto her face. You must really look like shit. You had completely forgotten about food and water along with the items you had gathered once you and Daryl had made it back to find that Sophia had disappeared. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.” You didn’t sound very convincing even to your own ears. You were still dizzy with a trembling in your limbs that just would not subside. Your stomach was still uneasy. When wasn’t it uneasy, actually?

“You’re looking a little pale. Can I get you anything?” She laid a hand against the RV and leaned into it. 

“Some water, if they found any?” Your voice was so gravelly, your mouth dry. Your lips felt as if they’d split open should you smile. 

“Yeah! Shane found a ton! One second!” 

Then she was off! You didn’t have the energy to track her movements, instead deciding to place your forehead against your knees. You truly did feel horrible. If this was what women called the joys of pregnancy, you would pass, thank you very much, and just get handed the baby. 

“Here.” Reluctantly, you raised your head, finding a plastic cup at eye level. With a minute nod, you sipped slowly at the cold drink. It felt like heaven on your parched throat. “When’s the last time you ate?”

“Huh?” You were absolutely abstracted. When she asked again, you really had to stop and think. “I guess at the CDC.”

“Oh, hun. That’s not good. Let me see what I can find for you.” Andrea began to turn but stopped when you laid a hand on her arm. 

“I really don’t think I can stomach anything. Everything makes me sick.” You ran a hand through your hair, grimacing when your fingers became trapped by some knotted stands. You had eaten the candies Carol had given you with only mild relief. There was not a second of reprieve from your stomach attempting to crawl out of your throat. 

“You need nutrients. For the baby.” She urged, crouching down in front of you. 

“I know. Maybe I can try when they find Sophia and we can go back to the normal amount of fear and anxiety.” One side of your mouth lifted into a ghost of a smile when you heard her chuckle. 

“Okay. But let me know if you change your mind.”

“Thank you. I will.”

Glenn and Shane returned first, the former handing out tasks to keep everyone busy. Most likely trying to control panic. You were no exception. The man sent you to grab the things you had found. You didn’t hesitate to inform him there was too much to retrieve on your own. 

“You’ll just have to make trips then, won’tcha? He scoffed, turning away and leaving no room for argument. 

You still wanted to show how useful you could be but you felt like hammered shit. The dizziness and trembling remained, and your ass met the pavement once you had arrived back to your treasure pile. There was no way you were coming back out there again. Listening for any signs of danger, you began to consolidate. Only the most useful things were placed in the suitcase, the remainder left on the ground. Zipping up the thing, you were beyond grateful for the wheels. 

Daryl and Rick had returned by the time you made it back. Sophia was not with them. Carol was in hysterics. Honestly, you weren’t sure that she had ever left the mindset. It didn’t take any persuading for you to relinquish the bed in the RV to her that night. 

Come morning, weakness and exhaustion were a suffocating blanket wrapped tightly around you. You wanted to stay there and sleep but that wasn’t even remotely an option. Not while Sophia was out there. 

Everyone was issued a weapon. You were given a second knife and holster, this one taking up residence on your hip. Only Shane, Rick, and Daryl were carrying firearms. Some bogus bullshit about everyone else needed to be trained. You were trained. However, there was no use arguing and you felt too horrible to engage in a losing battle. 

“What’re ya doin’?”

You lifted your head to find Daryl glaring at you. “My taxes. What’s it look like?” You replied with an over exaggerated roll of your eyes. 

“Ya ain’t goin’.” His tone left no room for negotiation. Unfortunately for him, there was no way you could care less. 

“Not asking permission, Dixon.” You made to walk by him but he caught your arm in passing. With a stern look at his hand on your bicep, you hissed “let go.”

“Nah, ya need to stay here.”

“I can take care of myself.” 

“Ain’t you m’worried ‘bout.” He shot a pointed look at your stomach. 

You snatched your arm free. “That’s sweet, but again, I’m not asking your permission.” It was getting easier and easier to walk away from him. You weren’t so sure that was a good thing. 

Andrea and Dale were engaged in what appeared to be a heated conversation as you passed by. You had an inkling on what it was about but it was none of your business. It was Andrea’s choice and she felt it had been taken from her. You could sympathize, recalling the helplessness you had felt when Jenner closed those doors. You and the blonde were on opposite ends of that spectrum. You had wanted desperately to live while she had been ready to die. 

The group had already crossed the guardrail and entered the trees with you and Andrea pulling up the rear in a jog until you caught up. While she continued forward, you chose to hang back. Daryl had taken the lead, constantly scanning for footprints or other disturbances that could possibly indicate Sophia had been through the area. You could have helped him, but it would likely not be well received given he had rebuffed the idea of you being there in the first place. 

“Stop lagging behind.” Shane grumbled at you, halting his steps until you passed him. “Shouldn’t even be here.” You weren’t sure if he had meant for you to hear him. Nor were you sure of his reasoning. Because you were a stranger? Because you were pregnant? Regardless, you let it slide. You were there to help find Sophia. 

Your steps remained steady which meant Lori had slowed her own while talking with Carl. Yet another conversation you had no right to hear, but you did offer a tight smile in passing. You ended up behind Glenn, absently comfortable with that. He had said the least to you but when he did speak, he was kind. 

It wasn’t much further before Daryl gave a signal to slow. When he lowered into a crouch everyone followed suit, including you. The transition left you dizzy and leaning forward to place a palm on the dirt in order to maintain your balance. The all too familiar twist and cramp of your stomach signaled the impending purge. Maybe you should have stayed behind. 

Your steps were silent as a ghost. You retreated from the group, backtracking as far as you safely could alone before you no longer had control. All the water you had managed to drink splashed onto the dirt, leaving you once again empty. You were going to die from starvation or dehydration at this point. It was a terrifying reality. The only option would be to find a pharmacy and seek out something for nausea. But what was safe to take during pregnancy?

Your first few steps were unsteady but you managed to level your gait at some point while tracking your way back to the others. Before you could really gauge whether your absence had been noticed, there was a tolling of bells in the distance. Church bells?

The small group as a whole began to sprint toward the sound but you? You couldn’t run if you tried. The dizziness was worsening, your extremities feeling not unlike lead weights. You knew now Daryl had been right. You should have stayed behind. Should’ve, could’ve, would’ve. Now, you had no choice but to move forward. Making the trip back to the RV alone would be more dangerous than falling a little behind your group. At least they could hear if you called for help. 

When you finally saw the space in front of you open up to an old church house and the familiar shapes of your fellow party members, you could have cried. Well, actually, you probably physically couldn’t cry. Dehydration was taking hold, a fact that you knew without anyone pointing it out. You hadn’t needed to pee since the previous afternoon. Your tongue was sandpaper. Your skin was dull and a bit itchy. You were going downhill and you didn’t know what to do about it. 

When you noticed that a portion of the group had broken away from Rick, Shane, and Carl, you wondered if your mind was beginning to go as well. Why were they splitting up? Lost in your confusion, Daryl was nearly on top of you before you even realized he was approaching. 

“What the fuck d’ya think you’re doin’?” He hissed in an exaggerated whisper. Oh, he was mad. Oh wait. He seemed to always be mad. “Don’t think I didn’t see ya sneakin’ off back there. You’re gonna get yourself killed.”

“You’re right.” You stood a little straighter. If you had to admit you were wrong, you would at least be confident about it. 

“D’ya think this is a game? There’s fuckin’ corpses out—wait, what?”

You barely suppressed a chuckle at his expression. “You’re right. I shouldn’t be out here. I’m a liability and I’m—not okay.”

“Daryl, we should go.” 

He held up a hand, silencing Andrea without even looking back. “Whaddaya mean ‘not okay’?”

“I can’t eat. I can’t even drink water without puking. I think—I think I might be—”

“Nah.” He interrupted, shaking his head. “Don’t even say that shit. Just need to getcha back to the RV. Y’can rest an’ I’ll take the bike. Find some meds or somethin’. Doubt anythin’ in Merle’s stash would be good for the kid but I’ll check anyway.” 

“Huh.” You raised your eyebrows, damn near astonished. 

“What?”

“I think that may be the most you’ve said to me at one time since we’ve known each other.” The corner of your mouth lifted and—it may have been a hallucination—you could have sworn you saw his lip twitch as well. 

“Stop. Can ya walk?”

“For now.” You took slow, albeit steady, steps to go around him, noticing that he never once tried to get ahead of you. He was worried. If you were this sick, what were the chances of your baby even making it? What if it was gone already?

“Let’s head back.” He instructed as the two of you passed by the suspicious gazes. Daryl had to lead them but his actions made it clear they would walk at his pace or venture ahead and get lost. Right now, his pace was your pace. You couldn’t make everyone suffer for your inability to keep up. The point was to search for Sophia, which meant as much ground needed covered as humanly possible. With a great amount of difficulty—and a few unsteady steps—you managed to pick up some speed. Daryl had taken only moments to be at your side once again, dipping his head as if requesting an explanation. 

“So this is it? This is the whole plan?” Carol’s meek voice came from behind you, both you and Daryl turning to regard her. With a hand on your shoulder, he steered you to a downed tree and pushed you to sit. 

“I guess the plan is to whittle us down into smaller an’ smaller groups.” You felt a tap against the front of your shoulder while holding your head in your hands. Daryl was still focused on the discussion but was offering you a tumbler of water. 

“Thanks.” You mumbled. You’d be stupid to let your pride persuade you into rejecting the offer. He gave you a nod and continued to listen to Lori's defense of her husband. Personally, you had nothing against Rick and believed he had once again made a call that was twisted to come back and bite him in the ass. No one wanted to blame him but in the face of fear and grief, blame was an easy scapegoat.

“C’mon.” Daryl gave you a moment to take one more sip and then helped you stand, clipping the water container back to his belt loop. It was blatantly obvious that his concern was for his baby, which in turn ensured that he made sure you were safe and healthy, but you couldn’t lie: having him be kind to you was something you wished you could grow to depend on. It was nice. Fleeting but nice. 

A wave of dizziness had you listing to the side, only briefly fearing you’d fall before you felt his arm around your waist.

“Easy.” His voice was calm, almost soothing to your frayed nerves. As you got your feet back under you, you nodded that you were okay. He lingered, watching you with those deep blue pools. If you weren’t careful, you could get lost. 

Several feet behind, Andrea cleared her throat, pretending to be looking at something up in the canopy when both you and Daryl quickly separated. How long had you been staring at him? Your cheeks warmed, actually managing to make you feel impossibly worse. Although, he had been looking right back. The tiniest of smiles upturned your lips, unbidden.

And then there was the unmistakable echoing crack of a gunshot.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly, terribly wrong. Whether it was you or someone else in the group, the unease in your gut was more than the ever-plaguing nausea. Behind you, Lori had stopped again to look back from where you had all traveled from. 

You were all watching her, but Andrea was the one to speak up. “You still worrying about it?”

“It was a gun.” The dark-haired woman replied, her gaze still far away.

Daryl hadn’t moved from your side, and he was doing a terrible job at hiding his disquiet. “We all heard it.” 

Lori looked like she might start moving forward again, but she only managed to shift on her feet before looking back. “Why one? Why just one gun?”

You saw Daryl glance at you from the corner of your eye. He was losing patience. “Maybe they took down a walker.”

With a tilt of her head, her expression screamed unimpressed. “Please don’t patronize me. You know Rick wouldn’t risk a gun to put down one walker, or Shane. They’d do it quietly.”

Carol fidgeted where she stood, looking as if she felt she had to say something. “Shouldn’t they have caught up with us by now?”

Daryl took a breath. “There’s nothin’ we can do ‘bout it, anyway. Can’t run ‘round these woods chasin’ echoes.” He chanced a glance at you, and you knew then that he was eager to make them move to get you back to the RV. You’d never say anything yourself. That much was clear by how you had started to push yourself to move faster when you shouldn’t have been moving at all. Unfortunately, Lori didn’t seem to like that answer.

“So, what do we do? Same as we’ve been?”

“Beat the bush for Sophia, work our way back to the highway.” He hadn’t moved far from you at all, but extended an arm to indicate you should turn around and start walking. When there was a distinct lack of footfalls, you were the first to look back. Daryl looked at you before following suit. Carol and Andrea were engaged in conversation, though their hushed voices kept the nature inaudible. Daryl started toward them, waving you off when you tried to call him back.

“We’re all hoping and praying with you, for what it’s worth.” Andrea was offering a soft smile, extending some comfort to Carol. You winced when Daryl leaned in toward them.

“I’ll tell ya what s’worth—not a damn thing. S’a waste’a time, all this hopin’ an’ prayin’. We’re gonna locate that little girl. She’s gonna be just fine.” When he turned, you hid your smile behind your hand. “M’I the only one Zen ‘round here? Good lord.” There was nothing you could do to keep from chuckling. “Glad ya think s’funny.”

“Sorry.” You mumbled, still smiling, but at least treading onward. 

It wasn’t much longer before your legs felt like they might fail to hold your weight. Not only weak, but aching. You could feel your pulse pounding in your head. Daryl continued to offer you water, never bothering to drink any himself, you noticed.

“How much farther?” Lori gave voice to the question you had been thinking for the last half hour.

“Not much.” Daryl reached for you when you stumbled but you shook your head. His eyes remained on you when he continued his reply. “Maybe hundred yards as the crow flies.” The answer seemed to satisfy her for the moment at least. “Hey.”

You grimaced as the cramps you had been feeling in your legs seemed to move into your stomach. You hadn’t realized that your hand had immediately pressed into the area. When you finally heard Daryl and looked at him, you were bombarded by the naked concern shining in his eyes. 

“Y’want me to carry ya?” 

Though taken aback by his offer, especially in front of the others after he had spent the better part of the day more focused on you than on the tracking he was out there to do, you shook your head adamantly. “No. No, I’m good.” Another cramp, only slightly sharper than the one that preceded it. It was still enough to have you draw a hissing breath through your teeth.

“Don’t mind. C’mon, ya need to rest an’ we’re losin’ daylight.”

Before you could turn him down a second time, Andrea began screaming somewhere nearby. When had she wandered off? Daryl was readying his crossbow, tapping Carol on the shoulder as he started running. “Stay with ‘er!” He pointed back to you. The woman nodded even though he was long gone.

“You okay, honey?” She asked, brushing some hair away from your face after you selected a tree to lean against. “You look terrible.”

“I just need to rest. Maybe try to eat something.” You all but panted. The pain was still sporadic but each seemed to hurt worse than the last. As it was, you were torn between needing to vomit and the urge to drink the entire container of water Daryl was carrying. 

There was an awful commotion from the direction everyone had disappeared. Daryl soon came sprinting through, slipping the strap of his crossbow over his head before he reached you.

“Sorry.” He huffed between breaths at the same time he swept you up against his chest and continued toward the highway, everyone else right on his heels.

“What happened?” You asked breathlessly. If he noticed, he didn’t comment on it. 

“Some girl came ridin’ on a horse. Saved Andrea’s ass but she was lookin’ for Lori.” Wincing at being jostled when everything already hurt, you opened one eye and caught his grim expression. “Carl got shot.”

The remaining members of your group made it back to the highway in record time without you holding them up. Daryl gingerly lowered you onto the steps of the RV and pressed the water tumbler into your hand. Then he left to go fill in Dale and T-Dog. 

Your hands were shaking as you sipped down some water. First Sophia went missing. Then Carl had been shot. Children weren’t spared from the cruelty of that world. You felt your eyes burn with the desire to cry, yet no tears would fall.

“There are no blessings anymore. Nothing real to hope for anymore.”

And for the first time, you considered the possibility that maybe what Jenner did had been intended as a mercy. How could you even consider bringing a baby into that hell? Maybe you should have stayed behind with Jacqui, letting her hold your hand as she had done after the blood draw. Maybe it would be better to let whatever was wrong with you steal from you until there was nothing left. 

Your chest began to pull tight again, your breaths quickening in an attempt to keep pulling in air. Your pulse was thrumming away in your temples, making your eyes ache and your vision blur. All you could think was how badly you wanted to cry but couldn’t. You sat up straighter in hopes that it would make breathing easier, a small sound escaping when your stomach cramped again. It must have been loud enough to alert Daryl because when you opened your eyes, he was walking toward you, his brow pinched in concern.

And in looking at him, watching him react to your discomfort because of the little life the two of you had created, you instantly regretted ever thinking your baby shouldn’t be allowed a chance. That Daryl shouldn’t be allowed a chance to be a father. 

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Talk to me, Y/N.” 

You were grabbing at his arms and attempting to stand, but in your panic, your voice failed you. The ability to breathe went right along with it. Halfway upright, with Daryl’s hands on your upper arms to aid you, you managed two words: “Something’s wrong.” 

“Shit. Okay. Listen, we’re just gonna get everythin’ together. Leave a note for Sophia. Then we can—”

You cut him off with a scream that made his blood run cold. Your arms wrapped around your middle and held tight, trying to smother the pain stabbing relentlessly at you from the inside. In some distant, dark crevice of your mind, you felt him lift you and heard him shouting. There was the roar of an engine. Daryl’s bike. You blinked, dots and wavering images making it hard to decipher what was happening. You were sideways on the bike, cradled tightly to Daryl’s chest. How the hell? 

“Hey, listen to me. Ya listening?” You gave him the weakest of nods. “Need ta hold onta me. Means ya gotta stay awake. Can ya do that?”

“Son, take a car. We can move more around and make a—”

You blinked slowly and watched Daryl look up and away from you. “There ain’t time!” You blinked again, his blue eyes back on you. “Y/N, can ya do that?!” You didn’t– couldn’t –answer verbally, but moved slightly to wrap your arms around his middle as tightly as you could, which wasn’t tight at all. “Stay awake.” He was already moving, pulling his legs up as he picked up speed. When your stomach cramped again, you only squeezed him tighter with a sob. “I gotcha. Just keep holdin’ on. You’re doin’ great.”

Minutes felt like an eternity, and eventually, you sacrificed holding up your head so the strength in your arms could hold true. When you opened your eyes, all you could see was blue sky. Blue like Daryl’s eyes. Would the baby have had his eyes? 

The wind was no longer blowing. The sound of the engine had disappeared, but you were moving. Daryl was yelling. There were other voices but you were too tired; it hurt too badly. So when darkness beckoned, you took her hand.

[ddejavvu]

Hii so I absolutely LOVE your best friend with no boundaries James Potter (and all of your works ofc 😚) and wanted to request this but with Steve Harrington? Like maybe you’re both napping in his bed and he has a sexy dream and reader wakes up to him humping her ass and moaning/whimpering her name?? So reader is there grinding back into him and he wakes up mortified but reader rubs over his massive bulge and tells him not to stop, then they have the dirtiest sex of their lives (with spitting and/or choking bc aren’t we all whores for dirty spit sex)

that's a little more than i can fit into a blurb but i've got the meat of it here 😅

this post is 18+, minors dni.

Napping with Steve has always been relaxing. Where some people might push, shove, or kick in their sleep, Steve is delightfully dead, limbs cemented into position until he wakes and stretches him. On top of that, he's nearly warm enough to make you sweat, so if you manage to score a spot in his twin bed, wrapped in his arms to keep you from falling over the edge, you'll be guaranteed at least an hour of cozy, restful sleep.

When you wake it's to shifting on the bed, and you assume he's getting up to get water. He always complains of a sore throat after he naps, but if he remembered to sleep with his mouth closed, perhaps he wouldn't find himself so parched.

"Nooo, Steve," You whine, gripping his forearms where they wrap across your chest and enclose you in his hold, "Don't get up."

You wriggle backwards into his arms, intent on trapping him beneath the blankets, but your unstoppable force meets an immoveable object; not only his hips but something rather stiff between them.

It takes you a couple seconds longer than you'd ever admit to realize what's happening, and why Steve is really trying to get out of bed. Your cheeks go hot and apologies pour from your lips while you shimmy forwards again, trying to free him to take care of business.

His arms tighten around you, and his hips chase yours.

You feel his hard-on grind against the curve of your ass, the same way it had only seconds ago when you'd unknowingly rubbed yourself on him. Your breath hitches, cut short by some invisible vice pinching your throat shut, but Steve doesn't respond to your rapidfire apologies, nor the stuttering that comes after it.

"Steve," You blabber, turning your head when you can't turn your body, "Steve, fuck, I'm sorry- just- I'll let you get up, and-"

He's asleep.

His brown lashes are splayed delicately over the flushed apples of his cheeks, hair endearingly mussed and breath hot where it puffs out in steady streams against your shoulder. He brings his hips forwards again, grinding himself once more into your ass, and you're ashamed to admit that you don't fight to get out of his embrace this time around.

All it takes is a moan of your name, a soft, whimpered 'Y/N' to stop feeling guilt claw at your chest.

He wants this- he wants you.

You're frozen in his hold but you break out of it to turn your upper body, leaving your ass against his dick so that he can keep using it.

"Steve," You croon, adrenaline pumping through your veins as you comb your nails through the soft strands of hair splayed over his forehead, "Stevie, wake up."

"Y/N," He groans again, and after one more call of his name, his eyes blink open. He's mid-roll of his hips, his boner pressed flush to the center of your ass. If neither of you were clothed, if your flesh was bare and his cock wasn't confined by his briefs, he'd have been rutting through the fat of your ass cheeks.

His cheeks flare red even faster than yours heated, and he scrambles to get away, but there's nowhere to go between you and the wall behind him.

"Shit!" He hisses, knocking his head back against the wall in his mortified rush to escape, "Shit, Y/N, I'm- I'm sorry, fuck, I-"

"Don't stop," You mewl, your hand darting from his hair to his thigh, nails digging into the flesh that his basketball shorts have rucked up to reveal. It's milky white but later it will be littered with crescent-shaped marks.

He breathes out, in, then, "What?"

"Don't stop." You repeat, hand shaking as it travels from his thigh to his ass. You press forwards against it and he lets you shift his hips against your own again, breath stuttering as his cock rubs against your ass.

"Are- Are you serious?"

"Yes!" You gush, desperation in your voice, "Please, Steve, I- I want you to fuck me, please."

There's incredulity in his exhale that suggests he'd expected his wet dreams to stay just that; dreams. But here you are, grinding your ass back against his aching dick, begging to be fucked in his bed.

His thick bicep arcs over your face, and his broad shoulders hover over your own as he rolls himself over onto you. You spread your legs so that he can grind instead against the pad of your panties that covers your cunt, and his weight is suffocating where he lays over top of your back.

"Thank you," He breathes, like a prayer that's delivered in a sticky, spit-soaked kiss to the nape of your neck. He grinds down against your cunt, the meat of your ass above his cock as he holds himself over you on the bed, "Fuck, thank you."

[chaoticbardlady99]

Astarion being able to taste food again and he bites a lemon, rind and all

I have no idea if this was your vision, but it was very fun for me to write! Thank you for the hilarious prompt!

Living Astarion x GN! Tav mentioned

It has been approximately two days since Astarion had used the Wish Scroll and became a living, breathing person and it has been a very bizarre and disorienting experience.

 For starters, Tav is nowhere to be found in their shared house and Astarion isn’t able to use scent to find him anymore so Gods only knows where they wandered off to. Then he woke up absolutely fucking parched and downed a ton of water at once- quickly learning that doing that is not a fun time for a variety of reasons (he definitely didn’t almost piss himself walking home from Sorcerer Sundries). 

 And now? Well now his fucking stomach is growling and he has a plethora of blood, but there is no food until Tav comes back from wherever.

 Astarion has never felt more irritated in his entire life- not even looking at his reflection and messing with his hair is helping. 

 The pain in his stomach is gnawing and awful- he almost feels as bad as he did when he needed blood, but these cramps make it hard to breathe and breathing is a necessity now and-

 Why did I want to be mortal again? Astarion begins to panic, why didn’t I just wish to be able to walk in the sun instead? Or quite literally anything else!?

Stop it! He chastises himself, you are just hungry, this is not the end of the world. You will adjust eventually.

 It takes 10 more minutes of Tav not showing up for Astarion to truly lose it. He is on the verge of tears and a toddler-like fit- what in the hell is happening to him!?

 He throws open the pantry with the force of a thousand men and the tears of a rejected teenager- he would care about the state of the cabinet if he wasn’t so ravenous. That’s a future Astarion problem now. 

 He grabs the one and only thing he can find- a lemon, something he hasn’t tried yet.

 Astarion drops the lemon with his shaking hands and screams at the ceiling, pouncing on the lemon on the floor, and proceeds to bite into the whole thing. He’s seen Tav eat apples this way, lemons can’t be all that different.

 Oh, but he was wrong, so horribly wrong.

  Astarion coughs and sputters- desperately trying to get the acidity out of his mouth and the thick skin. The more he chews it, the more it feels like leather and the taste just gets worse. 

 AND then he discovers are FUCKING SEEDS when he tries to bite down on one and hurts his teeth.

“

“GO-” he begins to choke on the content in his mouth and he can’t help but think of the ridiculous irony of him coming back to life just to die two days later.

 A fist to his stomach helps him to finally spit all of it out- coughing and crying. Some of the lemon also went up into his nose and he really thought he knew what real pain is. He is beginning to realize that he doesn’t know pain at all and his new pain tolerance is incredibly low.

 “Astarion!” Tav chastises him, checking him with a panic and wiping away his tears, “what happened, my Love!?”

 He cries, hugging Tav- thank GODS they are finally back! 

“I was hungry and really uncomfortable and so I grabbed what we had left.”

  Tav looks at him and then down at the floor where the culprit lies. They look back up at Astarion and he can see them fighting not to laugh.

“Astarion,” Tav says slowly, struggling with holding it together, “lemons need to be peeled before you eat them. Also they are more for beverages and as a flavor adder of sorts.”

 He scoffs, “That explains it- and did you know they have seeds!?”

  Tav explains that most fruits have seeds- which absolutely pisses him right off- but Tav eventually brings in the groceries and makes him something to eat. He scarfs it down.

“Better than the lemon?” Tav asks with a cheeky grin.

 Astarion nods happily and goes back to enjoying his food. Tav kisses his cheek and goes to clean up the ridiculous lemon on the floor- reminding themselves to not let the pantry run out again.

[fourkisses]

i stare at the crash (it actually works) ✷

a cs55 written-smau where . . .

carlos signs with porsche after getting ditched by ferrari only to find himself in a heated rivalry with his new teammate. oh, and did i mention she's also his ex-girlfriend?

pairing: carlos sainz x fem!porsche driver!reader

warnings: it's very long. also, cuss words. a lot of cuss words.

a/n: buckle up your seatbelts because this will take a wild turn wink wink

ᯓ★ PART FOUR: THE GRANDEST MASTERPLAN YET

lando calls for backup . . .

the grid added to their stories!

Golf de Monte Carlo | 8:43 AM

“The fuck is he doing here?”

You have unintentionally thought that one out loud. Lando told you that it would be just the usual gang coming today (a.k.a. the Twitch Quartet plus Lils), so you don't really get why your teammate is here.

"Really, Y/N? No hi, hello, welcome, here's some water because I am absolutely sure you two are parched from the intense heat of the scorching sun?" Lando replies sarcastically as he and Carlos get down from the golf cart parked in front of you.

You roll your eyes at the Brit before throwing a water bottle at him and Carlos that, of course, they both catch. (Drivers and their stupid reaction times.)

"Yeah, Y/N. No kisses on the cheeks?" Carlos playfully adds before unscrewing the bottle cap.

"Oh, I'm sorry Carlos! I totally forgot!" You flash him your prettiest smile. "Do you want it to be from my left fist or my right?"

Charles tries to shut his mouth, but he can't help himself and lets out a giggle. After that incident on the jet, he (aside from Lewis and Nando) is the only person to know what really transpired between the two of you.

You, however, are not enjoying even just a second of this shit. You turn to glare at the Ferrari driver and magically, his laugh somehow turns into a fake cough.

George was the first one to ask a sensible question in minutes. "So, Lan, how do we get on with this exactly?"

Lando, the ever dramatic, claps his hands before replying. "Well, since we are kind of a large crowd, I reckon it would be best if we play in teams, yeah?” he nods, as if he's delivering a presidential speech. ”The teams are gonna be Lily and Alex, you and me, and Y/N and Carlos."

“What about Charles?” you ask. “Can't I be paired with him instead?”

Lando looks around and counts one by one. Two, three, five, six, seven. Damn. They're missing a person to make it even. He clearly hasn't thought his grandest masterplan through.

"Ah, Charles! Well, actually, Charles will play by himself today.”

The Monegasque's face contorted. He pointed at himself. “Me?”

“Yeah! You told me earlier!”

“Eh?”

Lando widened his eyes at the Ferrari driver. Just go with it!

Oh. Charles gets the hint and plays along. "Oh, yeah! You know, I'm in my strong, independent era, that's why!” He smiles right after, proud of himself for pulling it off.

“Well, if that's the case then I'm going home. I'm sorry but if Carlos is my teammate, then I'm not playing,” you announce. It's one thing to be with him on the track. But being with Carlos even in your leisure time? Too much, guys.

Your announcement elicits quite a diverse reaction from the group, including but not limited to:

Carlos rolling his eyes. "As if I want to be your teammate."

Charles sighing. I am a child of divorce.

Alex and Lily whispering quietly among themselves. Do you want to get out of here and just stay in bed with Izzy the whole day?

George trying to eavesdrop on the couple. What is an Izzy?

Lando, however, is calm. Zen-like. He is unmoved, not even one bit.

“Are you sure about that? You haven't even heard of the prize yet," the brit says in an enticing manner, wiggling his eyebrows in the process. Lando may have been caught off guard seconds ago, but he wouldn't allow anyone to fuck up his grandest masterplan yet, no. Not even you. This is the ace in his deck that he absolutely can't wait to deal.

As expected, everyone looks at him in confusion. Even the guys who are part of the quartet that knows about Lando having a grandest masterplan is just as clueless as you.

“What is it?” you ask with both arms crossed, heels tapping the grass in anticipation.

Lando smiles widely. Very, very widely.

“Pole position in Zandvoort, courtesy of Max Verstappen.”

Holy shit.

This time, Lando's announcement elicits quite a diverse reaction from the group, including but not limited to:

Alex cheering inwardly. Good thing I have an amazing girlfriend who just so happens to be a professional golfer.

George groaning loudly. “Hey Albono, can I team up with Lily instead?”

Carlos wanting nothing but to punch a wall at the moment. “I would rather take Lando as my partner.”

You wanting nothing but to punch Carlos at the moment. “I would rather take Lando as my partner.”

Charles, however, is worried about a different thing.

“Hey mate,” he whispers in Lando's ear, “did Max really say that?”

The brit smirks in response, confident of his plan. “He actually hasn't. . . yet.

“But don't you worry a thing, Charlie boy! I'm sure he will, although I specifically need you to ask him."

“Err, I guess I could do that, but I'm not sure how he will agree with such . . . request.”

Lando pats the Ferrari driver's shoulder. “Do you trust me?”

“Honestly? No. But go on.”

“In situations like this, we need to bribe Max with something in exchange for what we want. And, among all of us, you're the only one who has a material worthy enough to offer to the champ."

"I'm not sure I follow," Charles responds.

"The power lies within your phone, Cha! Quick, do you have it with you right now?"

Charles nods and pulls his phone from his pocket.

"Okay, good. Now, can you please open your Instagram? I want you to do something very, very important. . . "

a few moments later, on twitter . . .

an hour later . . .

“Just hit the damn ball!”

You can't help but roll your eyes at your teammate's comment. “Can you shut up for at least five seconds?”

“Santo Niño de Atocha, we've been here for five minutes!”

You fall deaf to the Spaniard's complaint. Sure, you have been "fixing" your position for a while now, swinging the club multiple times but not hitting the ball (yet), shifting your weight from one foot to another, shuffling forward, then backward, then forward again, but hey, you're just preparing for a successful shot!

The rest have already moved ahead, leaving you and Carlos the last pair to be at the tee box. He blames it on you for not striking. You blame it on him for not letting you concentrate.

"Do you want me to help you?"

"Do you want me to swing this at you instead?"

"I'm pretty sure we would have a higher chance of winning if I do so, Y/N."

"I know how to play golf, okay! My ex-boyfriend used to bring me to these places," you snap back as you reposition your golf club, slightly swinging it back and forth to get the position right.

"You mean me?"

Oh. Oh shit, yeah. He's the ex-boyfriend. But hell, he absolutely doesn't need to know that he's that ex-boyfriend.

You stop what you're doing to look at him sideways. "Sainz, I am going to hold your hand while I say this," it's just a little white lie, you swear, "but you're not my only ex-boyfriend." (He's absolutely you're only ex-boyfriend.)

He stares at you with a rather unamused expression, not buying the lie you're trying to sell him.

Still, you frown in his direction, fully committing to the bit. "I'm so sorry to break it to you, but sweet pea, you're not that special." You nod at him a couple of times. It's okay, bud. You're gonna get past this.

Yet Carlos didn't seem to be affected by the jab. He just shrugs his shoulders in response and waves you off, gesturing you to continue what you're supposed to be doing.

Brick. Ice queen or whatever. You shift your focus back to the little white ball perched in front, eyes in slits as you examine it. God. Such a small item to be stressed at. Okay. Just. . . calm down. You have zoomed through circuits at insane, almost ungodly speeds. This is nothing. Just breathe in and breathe out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.

You tighten your grip to the metal rod you are holding as you lift it and coil your body. "Here goes nothing," you mutter under your breath, silently hoping that you're not going to embarrass yourself in front of the cockiest man to have ever walked this land. Then, with eyes closed, you swing your golf club forward, striking the ball.

Except . . . you didn't. You anxiously open your left eye only to see that the tiny white dot of menace is still there where you last saw it.

You hear a snicker behind you. You roll your eyes so far back you see for a split second all the emotions that control your one hell of a brain. "Shut up, Sainz. I don't want to hear a word about it."

"Ay, I wasn't going to say anything!" Carlos answers defensively, arms in the air, his shit-eating grin still plastered on his face. He walks towards his golf bag and pulls out a club. "Although I just have to mention, you definitely called the wrong ex-boyfriend to teach you golf, don't you think?"

Ugh. You slump down the grass beneath you. See? The cockiest man to have ever walked this land!

Golf de Monte Carlo | 2:34 PM

"Where did it go?!"

Your voice echoes through the vastness of the golf course.

Carlos absolutely has no idea.

He shouts back at you. "I absolutely have no idea!"

Why the fuck would you think he'll know where the ball you just hit would go? He shakes his head in disbelief.

He watches you as you walk further down the fairway to look for your golf ball, dragging your golf bag along with you. He already told you earlier to carry it on your back but you replied that 1) your shoulders are already sore from carrying the entire face and personality of the Porsche F1 team and that 2) he should mind his own business.

Unbelievable woman, Sainz thought.

You two are in the green now, where the hole is situated. Both of you are close to finishing the whole game, actually, with this hole being the 18th and last one. Carlos fixes his stance before swinging his golf club with just enough force to send his golf ball towards victory. Finally.

"Hey! Sainz!" he hears you shout. "I can't find it!"

He puts his club back inside his bag before walking towards your direction. "Maybe it got lost in the rough!"

"The what?!"

"See that?" he says as soon as he reaches you. He points at the area that has taller, unkempt grass compared to the one you are standing on. "Considering your golfing abilities, it's highly probable that it went there."

"How am I supposed to get it out then?"

Carlos is surprised that you didn't fire back after his subtle insult. "Eh, just pick it up with your hands."

You absolutely heard that dig but hey, the past four hours with him wasn't actually that bad. Sure, there was bickering here and there, but nothing too serious or personal. For the first time in years, you start to think you're finally coming around regarding the situation you and Carlos are in.

"But isn't that against the rules?"

"Ay, it doesn't matter! You already lost anyways," he reveals as he looks back at the tall flag that marks where the hole is, signaling that his golf ball was already in there.

"What do you m- hey! We're a team here!" you exclaim at him when you realize what he meant.

Carlos scoffs in amusement. So now you claim you two are teammates after your public disdain for him earlier?

"I thought you said you don't want to play when I'm your teammate?" he counters, the hint of bitterness in his voice unintended but clearly evident.

"Really? We just finished the whole thing and you're asking me that question just now?" Wow, so much for thinking maybe you two can finally be civil.

"I'm just saying! I'm simply restating what you said earlier," Carlos defends himself, trying to salvage the conversation and save his ass.

“There's literally no need to bring it up and attack me, though,” you say as you walk away from him and towards the area where your golf ball might have landed. "Stop acting as if you weren't sharing the same sentiments earlier."

Carlos follows you from behind. Point taken. “Okay, I'm sorry,” he pleads, stopping his tracks about a meter from where you are standing. He didn't get a response as you choose to ignore him and instead continue to scour the grass for a circle of white that might be peeking through.

Found it.

"Hey, Y/N. I said I'm sorry."

You hold the golf ball in your hand as you turn to face him, nodding in acknowledgement. "Just. . . next time, don't dig up shit that's already dead and buried. You always do that, you know. It's childish," you say before walking towards your golf bag.

Now Carlos is the one who feels offended. What do you mean I always do that? And childish, me, really? You can't even talk to me without saying a cuss word every five minutes!

Lost in the heat of the moment, Carlos blurts it out before even thinking of it: "Oh yeah? Well, if you really don't want me to dig up shit, then stop doing shit that needs to be buried in the first place."

His words stop you on your tracks. You look back, jaw dropping. “Excuse me? What the fuck is your problem?”

“No, Y/N! what the fuck is your problem?” Carlos fires back, his voice sharp, his frustration spilling over.

“Oh, don’t act like you don’t know what my problem is,” you snap, your tone cutting. “Because I assure you, you are very well-aware about it!”

Carlos lets out a scoff, crossing his arms defensively. “Really, Y/N? Is this still about Ferrari?”

You don’t respond. Your silence is answer enough.

“Dios mío,” he mutters, exasperated. “That was almost five years ago! Can’t you still not—”

“And so what if it’s about Ferrari?!” you shout, stepping closer as you point a finger at him. “You ruined us just so you could sign with that damn team!”

“God, they already dropped me, Y/N!” Carlos yells, throwing his hands up. “We’re teammates now, for fuck’s sake! Why are you still so affected by it?”

You let out a humorless chuckle, cheeks flushing red with anger.

“Why am I so affected by it? Nice question, Sainz! What if I also signed a contract behind your back and didn’t ask your opinion about it?” you shoot back, your voice rising with every word. “And when you questioned me, I told you you were unsupportive of my dreams, accused you of being jealous, and then left—just disappeared. And a week later, you found out I told the fucking tabloids I'm single now?”

Carlos stiffens, his face paling.

“And then, four years later,” you continue, your voice breaking but relentless, “I show up in front of you and act like nothing ever happened between us?”

You take a deep breath, trying to steady the anger threatening to consume you. “Is my reaction justifiable now?”

Silence. The tension hangs heavy in the air, suffocating. Carlos looks down, refusing to meet your gaze, his expression unreadable.

“You know, for the record, Carlos,” you say coldly, the words biting, “we are not teammates.”

He looks up, eyes red. “Partners trust each other. You clearly didn’t.”

You turn and start to walk away, each step heavier than the last, leaving him standing there.

“Yeah, we’re not.”

You stop, his words freezing you in place.

“Partners support each other,” Carlos adds, his voice hollow, bitter. “You clearly didn’t.”

He lets out a short, empty laugh, one that carries no humor, only pain. “God, I just really wanted you to be happy for me that time, Y/N.”

A single tear slips down your cheek. Then another. And another. The world around you blurs, your chest tight with the weight of the moment.

He walks away, footsteps fading into the distance.

You stand there, frozen in time.

And suddenly, it's like four years ago all over again.

← previous part next part →

[silassinclair]

Hey first off your an awesome writer and second how do you think Maddox would be with an animal lover S/O? like they will immediately, feed any strays near by,nurses any wounded animals back to health, happily takes care of his horse,and secretly wishes they owned a farm full of animals

This was too cute so I couldn’t not write a blurb of this. Also I made the reader gender neutral in this one if ya don’t mind 🙏And thank you so much for the compliment! I appreciate your appreciation of my work :-)

Yandere Wild West Outlaw x Animal Lover GN Reader

CW// None!

Masterlist Here!!

We all know Maddox loves his horse Jasper. He’s an animal man. He gets along with them better than people to be honest.

It’s been a few days since Maddox took you and he notices how you act around Jasper when you think he isn’t around.

He hears you talk to his horse.

“You’re such a handsome horsey~! Is your owner treating you okay?”

“Neighphhh.”

“That’s good :)”

His heart flutters in his chest when he sees you being so nice to the little desert critters that people normally kill out of fear. You’re such a cute and sweet little thing.

Maddox gives you some water since you look parched. He internally coos when he sees you give it to a little tortoise instead. But of course he scolds you for wasting good water on an animal.

He can’t let you know he’s gone soft on you.

Treats you better after he sees how well you treat his horse and other animals. You’re not like the other scummy humans in the West. You’re a gem, a treasure.

“Wanna stop for some root beer? I noticed ya’ gettin’ a lil’ sweaty so I thought a lil’ sweet treat would be nice.”

Your innocence must be protected. Whenever Maddox robs a place or gets in a shoot out he tells you to watch over Jasper behind a building so you don’t see all the violence.

“You keep an eye on Jas alright? Don’t take your eye off him for a second! Ignore what I do over here-”

Absolutely mows down a bank while you’re over here drawing in the dirt with a horse :P

[billiedeansbitch]

𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐞

(𝐋𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐚 𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐬 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

summary: You see her once every few weeks and you make sure to make the most of it.

a/n: look a peace offering for my long absence (lol it's just a few days) anyway work was stressful. I couldn't write shit.

warning/s: cheating. unhealthy relationship. borderline obsession. SMUT. NSFW. mommy kink.

“Aww, you’re such a fucking slut for mommy, and for mommy only. Isn’t that right, baby?” she cooed as her fingertips dug on your cheeks, holding your face in a none gentle way. If speaking was hard, it was only proven to you that nodding your head was way worse than you thought–well, actually, you didn’t think so much ahead, you just wanted to satisfy her. 

The shapeshifter laughed at the poor attempt you tried, causing her grip to tightened, the insides of your cheeks dug even more to the point she could feel your skull. You whimpered with pleading eyes. 

“Good thing mommy knows exactly what to do with  little sluts like you, hmm?” your knees buckled, and even with her leg already wedged in between your thighs, you didn’t think you could still hold yourself against the wall, not knowing how long you could last until she was bored with her games you whined and bucked your hips seeking her touch, thinking she could spare you just this time. 

Larissa tsked, removing her leg. Her gaze narrowed at you, lips twitching to a slight smirk, “Oh, are you whining? Is my baby whining? You want mommy’s cock in your pretty, tight pussy, baby?” this time she slammed her leg right back in its previous position, “Say it.” the ache building in between your legs felt too much, and God, Larissa knew you weren’t far from begging her especially with that half-lidded look you were giving her, your chest heaving. You looked feral, so touch starved, and absolutely ready to tear her limbs off. It was amusing.

“Yes...please. Please, mommy.”  she leaned, her breath fanning across your face until you could feel it directly on your lips. You squirmed, closing your eyes and letting your lips fall apart. “Do better.” she murmured. 

“Bitch”

Smack. 

You stared at her, shock written all over your face but it quickly dissipated not giving the total satisfaction, your hand soothing the reddening spot on your cheek. “Now, now, sweetheart don’t be a brat—” she sounded so calm and collected. She had a smile on her lips that meant to mock you, she stepped to your space once more and held your sore cheek, her thumb running over the flesh. “We both know how it will end up for you. You’re lucky mommy’s not in the mood to punish you now but I will certainly keep this in mind. Apologize. Now. ”

It was unhealthy how you both wanted to tear each other off limb by limb yet you were both so intoxicated with one another that you couldn’t keep away from each other. The reality of it all should make you gag and crawl your way to church, pray for your sins and wash off your filth with your tears but you were so deep within your lust and affection for her that none of it seemed to matter.

You apologized. She kissed your forehead, “Don’t do that again. You know it upsets mommy when you talk back to her. Just be my good girl, okay?” while she smoothened your hair away from your face, you couldn’t believe how genuinely tender she appeared to be, how it seemed that the cruel woman she once was was only one of your hallucinations.

You nodded, keeping your mouth firmly shut. She smiled and kissed your cheek, careful not to hurt you.

After that, you parted ways without speaking much. She made her leave first, eyeing the hallway before strutting away leaving you in the dim corner of the closet room, parched for more.

It didn’t take long for you to find a way to be with her again. As soon as she entered the familiar room that was collecting dust for the past couple of weeks, you shoved her on the wall, your hands frantically wandering all over her until they settled on the collar of her dress, your lips never leaving hers. “What took you so long?” you panted, lips detaching from her mouth that she so eagerly tried to chase but you latched onto her neck, she didn’t seem to mind.

She chose not to answer, her hand finding purchase on your hips, pulling your body close to hers. Today, she didn’t mind being the one pinned on the wall, she didn’t mind how your hands were wrinkling her dress as you pushed them up to her hip and fondling her breasts over the fabric and you liked it. You loved it. You craved control. 

It was hot, it was messy, none of your actions were calculated like before and she let you suck anywhere you desired, let you bite her skin until a flashy bruise formed. She let you worship her with brutality and she made sure you knew she enjoyed it by moaning right into your ears, a hand fisting on your hair to pull you whenever she needed to kiss you.

When her underwear dropped and it pooled around one ankle, you made a note to scoop it out later, for now you wasted no time running the tips of your fingers along her slit, gathering the thick juice to her clit and massaging the poor little bud until it was swollen and sensitive. Larissa’s breath shallowed, her mouth hanging open as she watched you play with her cunt, one leg wrapped around your waist. 

“Fuck me.” she demanded through gritted teeth, grinding her pussy against your fingers, “You forgot your manners, darling? Ask nicely now.” oh, how the tables have turned. Her gaze hardened, and it was enough, you decided it was enough. You plunged three fingers into her, finding her walls to be slick and hot and just immediately clenching around your fingers. She hissed through the pain of the sudden movement. She stilled your wrist once it all disappeared into her.

“What’s the matter now? Can’t take it all in, mommy?” you were truly pushing your luck here…

Instead of answering, she fucking crashed her lips to your lips, it was bruising. You felt her teeth nibbling hard on your poor flesh until she bit you hard. You tasted blood. You retaliated by pumping your fingers, each time you hit her spot. It was her turn to look shocked. Her head was thrown back against the wall exposing the length of her throat, so deliciously tempting you to take a bite. Just a fucking bite. Your stomach tingled.

“Ah yes, yes, fuck!” she was being very vocal now, pulling you closer and closer until you were certain every part of you was pressed onto her. You felt her pulse acessended under your tongue as you lap at her throat, all the way down to her chest and nipping on the swell of her breasts before you took one of those pink buds in your mouth. She cried, urging you to do the same to the other. You happily obliged.

“Fuck, I’m going to come. Yes. Yes, make me cum, baby. Make mommy so proud.” she mumbled against your ears before she pulled you into another kiss. Her cunt felt unbearably full.

She came all over your fingers, her wet, hot slick coating the whole span of your fingers. 

When everything settled down, and your breaths returned to normal and both were mentally recollected, the other woman started to fix her dress buttoning it all the way up and straightening her dress. It took her a couple of minutes looking for her underwear. She wasn’t going to wear it, not with all the filth in this room  it had probably collected; she just needed it. And there you were, leaning on the opposite wall with her black underwear in your hand. She tried to snatch it away but you were fast to move it away from her.

“Nah-uh, finders keepers.” flashing her one of your most irritating smiles, she rolled her eyes.

“Asshole.”

“Is that the finest insult you could come up with? Or did I just fuck you dumb that it’s the only thing you can remember, darling?”

Larissa chose to ignore you. She knew better than to engage with your after-fuck conversations. But oh, you weren’t quite finished yet, it appeared that you had a lot to say. 

“I’m sure he won’t notice you’re missing a piece. He’s not like keeping track of your underwear, right? That would be too creepy.” you chuckled right onto her reddening face.

“You–” she started but never finished when you stepped closer and cupped her pussy, the palm of your hand rubbing hard against her clit. Her hips betrayed her when she voluntarily responded and whimpered. After making sure your fingers were wet enough you pulled it out of her, “Open” and for some unknown reason she did and you shoved your middle and ring finger into her mouth.

“Good girl. Suck it all off, dearest.” from the many times she made you suck her fingers after she fucked you, you now understood where her addiction came from. It felt exhilarating, her tongue running and swirling around your fingers, sucking her own cum off. It was so dirty and fuck, you loved it.

You shared a kiss once more, tasting the salty and sweet essence of her sex.

When she got out, you quickly followed behind, patting your pocket where you hid your precious cargo.

And then you both weren’t so alone anymore. The doors opened and parents piled out of the classrooms together with their sons and daughters, some faces you were familiar with after subsituting, “Honey, where have you been?” a man in his late forties towered over Larissa, he had his hand around her forearm pulling her to the side. “Oh, there was a long line in the restroom. Forgive me, darling.” she placed a hand on his chest and smiled. “What happened to the rest of the presentation?”

You could hear them exchanging words and affectionately touching each other, then she bent down and scooped her son into her arms congratulating him 

You knew her son–little Nikki–he was a sweet, bright child. You smiled and waved at him. He waved back. Larissa followed the direction in which her son was looking, so did her husband. 

Your eyes met very briefly before she turned, “You did such a great job there, sweetie. Now, where would you like to celebrate?” and just like that, you watched the picture perfect family leave. Not once did Larissa turn to look at you. Something inside you broke.

In the teacher’s lounge, you stared at the coffee in front of you, mentally counting the days until she visited again for a PTA meeting. You knew she would come. It was after all, where you saw her first.

[ametrictonofaudacity]

yandere platonic supes I am BEGGIBG, there’s not enough yandere platonic Superman I am starved for content, blease

Yes absolutely!!! I am also starved for Yan platonic Superman, so we would get along well!!

Shout out to @blughxreader and @anxiousnerdwritings for so much of my inspiration, and if you like yandere dc works, you should check them out!!

Yandere Platonic Superman x GN! Reader

Warning: This is a yandere work, and as such, has themes of obsession and captivity! Because this is Superman, it’s a much milder work than usual!

“Hey! How was your day?” Warm, almost inhumanly hot, arms, wrap you up into a tight hug, and you blink in shock. You hadn’t even heard him get home, much less approach, and although it makes your heart race, you feel your nerves begin to settle.

“Good! I got to work on the garden I’ve been wanting to start.” You motion to the freshly filled earth, the hard dirt clods having been broken up. “Still have to mix the gardening soil in, and the fertilizer.”

“You did really good! I think we should head inside though, you’re starting to look a little parched.” You sigh, but nod, brushing the sweaty hair out of your face. Mr. Kent beams, stepping back from the hug, ruffling your hair gently. You try to ignore the way your heart leaps into your throat, or his concerned glance.

“So what about you? How’d your day go?” You mumble, trekking up to the tiny farm house in the distance. Mr.Kent keeps pace easily, the wind tugging gently on his red cape.

“It was good! There wasn’t much for me to do today, although one of the supports on the Golden Gate Bridge gave out. Me and few other heroes got that sorted fairly quickly, and no one got hurt.” You knew, logically, that he accomplished more in one day than teams upon teams of first responders could ever manage in a week, but being confronted with the knowledge caused a strange sort of dissonance. He had always just been Mr. Kent. Nice, a bit clumsy, willing to help you and your folks when you needed it. Always wearing a button up or sometimes a flannel when he visited, with the strange sort of softness to his accent that you knew happened when someone moved to the city. You hadn’t known him well, but had been close enough to invite him for Thanksgiving when you had heard he wasn’t spending it with his family.

Maybe that was your mistake. Maybe you wouldn’t be here, on a plot of land in the middle of nowhere, if you had just let him stay lonely.

You blink when you realize the farmhouse is much closer.

“I’ll get changed and make us some dinner, okay?” A hand smooths over your hair, and you smile. If he was cooking dinner, that meant you had time to shower, and get the dirt and grime off you.

“Okay.” You murmur, and he beams, the screen door closing behind the both of you. “I’m not allowed to use the stove anyways.” You mutter after him. You know he hears you, but he doesn’t respond, the door to his room closing behind him.

You take your time showering, and changing into the soft, clean pajamas that he had bought you so long ago they were beginning to wear, and gray at the cuffs. He would wait for you to eat, you knew, and he never pestered you unless he was worried about your safety. Which was pretty often, admittedly, but he had been getting better about not constantly fretting.

“Hey, kiddo! I made your favorite.” He grins, and the smell of warm food drifts up, making your stomach growl hungrily. He presses the plate into your hands. “Figured we could do something special, since today’s such a special day.”

You frown, tilting your head, even as you tried to remember. There weren’t any calendars in the house, and the only passing of time you were aware of most times was the rising of the sun.

“It is?” You question, taking a bite of your food. It melts on your tongue, and you glance at the rest of the house, frowning.

Your stomach drops when you realize. There’s four perfectly wrapped presents on the small coffee table in front of the couch, and a cake from your favorite bakery. There’s also a pie, which you know was made by Ma Kent.

You look back. Mr. Kent looks almost sad, and when he speaks, his voice is gentle, sympathetic.

“It’s your birthday, kiddo. I was thinking, since you’ve been so good lately, we could do something special.”

“Like what?” Your voice cracks, but he doesn’t say anything. You don’t know if your grateful or not.

“Well, I know you’ve been working really hard in that garden of yours. And since you’ve been so good lately, I was thinking we could go to visit a greenhouse! Spend a couple days out and about, so you can get out of the farmhouse every once and while.”

You stare. You hadn’t been allowed off the property in.. months. Five, nearly six. The prospect was exhilarating. And terrifying.

“Really?! When are we going?” You try not to sound to excited, but you must fail, because he chuckles.

“Easy there, slow your roll. We’ll be going at the end of the week. Now, finish your food so we can open presents, yeah?”

The food is tasteless after that. It’s good, sure, but that pales in comparison to how your heart hammers with adrenaline and excitement. You were finally, finally getting off the property! And if you couldn’t escape then, you could escape later, and maybe even go home.

Soon, you’re both finished eating, and he herds you to the couch, pulling out a camera from its case. It’s an expensive digital one, the one you know he used for work.

“You know you can just use your phone camera, right?” You point out, and he chuckles.

“Call me old fashioned. Let me get it set up, and then cake and presents.” It takes him less than a minute to set it up, the motions experienced and practiced. “You ready?”

You nod. He lights the candles on the small bakery cake.

It’s the strangest birthday you’ve ever had. Mr. Kent is the only one singing the birthday song, and you’ve always had a large family with a lot of siblings. When you blow out the candles, he doesn’t let you eat the frosting off them, instead plucking them off and setting them on a ceramic plate.

Your presents are odd, too. You were used to useless, impartial presents. This wasn’t that. He had gotten you the dvd copy of your favorite TV series, a set of hardback books, a new outfit, and a telescope, all neatly wrapped in blue wrapping paper.

“The outfit is for when we go out.” He explains, watching as you unfold the blue button up. “We’re going to be visiting Lois, so I figured you would want to look nice.”

Your heart skitters in your chest, unsure. You hadn’t met Ms. Lane yet, he had always insisted you weren’t ready, but now not only were you leaving the property but you would also be meeting his wife.

“I do. Thank you.” You finally murmur, and he wraps you up into another hug, holding you a moment longer than he usually did.

“Of course. Why don’t you try some of your cake and I’ll clean this up, yeah?”

You watch as he cleans up, nibbling on the sweet treat, and when he is finally done, he sets aside all of your presents, putting in the dvd. You shift on the couch, used to this old routine, and when he sits on the couch, curl up next to him, letting him wrap his arms around you and bury his nose in your hair with a smile.

[jakekiszkasmommy]

The Professor Part 2 📖

Warnings: 18+, ABSOLUTE FILTH, literally only sex this entire chapter, unprotected sex, dirty talk, rough sex, orgasm denial and overstimulation, squirting, ALL the warnings!!!!!

Author's note: SURPRISE!! I couldn't wait until tomorrow- I will be planning on rolling out a new part every Monday so here is this one a teensy bit early!

Part 1

Part 2

............

The way his tongue rolls over your nipple has you letting out small moans, the alcohol heightening your senses.

"Jacob, please," you beg as your run your fingers through his chocolate locks.

He bites your left nipple, sending you arching off the bed with a yelp. His mouth works it's way around your chest and up your collar bones. His hands find the button and zipper on your jeans, undoing them quickly. He helps you drag your pants off your ankles, eyes again raking up your legs as he did at the bar.

"You are a work of art, Y/n." His calloused fingertips run up the sides of your legs. "I'm feeling a bit parched. Think you can help?" You think he is about to ask for a drink but before you have the chance to respond, he is diving between your legs. Tongue lapping at your soaked panties, "and you taste like heaven as well." He nearly growls.

He yanks your underwear off of you and discards them onto the floor before moving back to your aching center. The second his tongue finds your clit, you are clamping your thighs around his head and digging your fists into his hair.

"Oh my god," you shout as a moan rips through your chest.

His tongue circles your clit at a fast pace, quickly bringing you to the edge of an orgasm. He chuckles as he pulls away. Your eyes shoot open and you see him rise from the bed. He starts undoing his own pants and discards them into the ever growing pile, his cock springing free.

"I told you that you were a needy little thing, love" the new pet name rolling off his tongue. "But we are still going to play by my rules. You will only cum when I allow you to. Understood?" You nod. He approaches the side of the bed, "Safe word is Gibson if you need me to stop." You nod again, "no I need to hear you say it."

"Gibson." You say, looking up at him with doe eyes.

"On your knees." He points to the hardwood floor. You scramble to the floor, unsure of what is to come but ready to give him anything he needs. He gathers your hair into his fist into a makeshift bun. "Open." He commands. You do as you are told and open your mouth, tongue out, waiting. "Oh, you are such a good listener. Such a good little slut for me." He says as you looked up at him with hooded eyes, watching him stroke himself. He slaps the head of his cock on your tongue a few times. A devilish grin on his face sends a shockwave to your core.

He slides his length into your mouth slowly. You wrap your lips around him, using your tongue for added pressure on the bottom. He picks up his pace.

"I want you to play with yourself. Keep her feeling nice for me." He says through gritted teeth. Your hand shoots down to circle your bundle of nerves. You nearly melt into a puddle on the floor at the touch. A small moan vibrates his cock and he starts fucking your mouth harder. "Keep your pace with mine."

You are circling your clit with every thrust of his own. "That's it baby, god you look beautiful." You look up at him through your lashes, eyes nearly rolling in the back of your head. Your other hand grabs the back of his thigh to keep him thrusting into your mouth.

No sooner than it started, he uses the grip in your hair to pull you off of him. He crouches down onto the floor with you, bending your head backwards. He inserts two fingers into you unexpectedly and you let out your loudest moan yet.

"God baby, you are so tight." Pumping his fingers in and out of you, making you teeter on the edge yet again.

Moans are falling out of you non-stop now. "Jake I'm going to cum, please, you have to stop."

"I'm not quite sure who Jake is, love," he brings your head up to meet his dark gaze.

You panic, stumbling over your words, "Sorry, sir, I- I'm-" you start to unravel below him, unable to stop it.

"At least you know to call me Sir. I'll let that one slide. Be a good girl and cum for me. Do it. Now." He demands.

You are relieved when you finally let go. Squeezing around his fingers. But then it all becomes too much. He hasn't stopped.

"Sir, I-"

"You know what to say if you want me to stop." He growls in your ear. You can't stop cumming. Your vision whites out and you scream his name, another orgasm taking over you. "That's it. That's what I wanted." He says as he pulls his fingers out and rubs your clit rapidly. You can feel and hear the wetness hitting the floor. You feel euphoric, no one has ever made you cum like that.

"Jacob, oh my god, I- I've never," you start to apologize.

He pulls you up and pushes you onto the bed face down with your feet on the floor. "I'm going to fuck you now. And I want you to do that all over again. Soak me."

He lines himself up with your entrance and slams into you, not allowing any time to adjust. He is so much bigger than you expected but the stretch is welcomed. With every thrust, he is grazing your g-spot. You can control the moans and praises slipping from your mouth.

"Yes, sir, just like that, pleaseeee," you whine. Gripping the sheets you use the leverage to push back into him harder.

"No no no, you aren't in control. I am." He seethes. He grabs both arms by your elbows and pulls towards him, lifting your chest off the mattress. "Keep begging for it, let me hear you."

You throw your head back moaning, "Please sir, please can I cum now?"

His hips snapping into you at a relentless pace is sure to leave you sore tomorrow. "Already? No, love, we just started having fun." He says sternly as he pulls up harder on your arms. Each thrust into you is deep and hard, your ass smacking against his thighs. He is groaning behind you, watching your perfect ass bounce against him. He pulls out with a harsh smack on your ass before ramming into you again. Letting go of your arms, his hands find purchase digging into your hips, driving him into you harder.

You are screaming into the mattress and squeezing him so hard that his hips falter just the slightest moment.

"Alright baby girl, cum for me," he says lowly as he leans down to your ear. Finally causing you to release all over him. "That's it, baby. See I know you can be good and listen."

Flipping you over, you lay fucked out beneath him on the bed, tears streaming from your eyes. A hint of worry crosses his expression. He cradles the back of your neck and lifts your head towards him. "Hey, love, you ok? We can stop. You just have to tell me."

"No, no please, I want more. Please please," you beg.

A wicked smile is plastered on his face as he stares down at you. "Give me one more. But I want you to hold it until I say so and then give me all you've got." He slips himself back into you. The both of you letting out a moan together. You are balanced on the edge of the bed, with your legs wrapped around his waist and his hand cradling your head.

He leans down and kisses you, deepening it as he starts to thrust faster again. His other thumb finds your clit and starts to rub hard, slow circles.

The obscene words falling from your mouth were enough praise for him to know that you were close again. You start to squeeze him and it only makes him pound into you harder. The sweat making his hair stick to his face and neck.

Who would have thought the man you brought home from the bar would be giving you the best fuck of your life?

The circles he's rubbing on your clit become tighter, faster. "Jacob, god this is- fuck- yes just like that," you throw your head back in pleasure. Your eyebrows scrunch together and your mouth hangs open, no noises spilling out as you try to hold it together.

"Oh love, don't hide those sounds from me now." The grip around the back of your neck tightens. "Look at me, open your eyes."

Your eyes open to find his nearly jet black and pupils blown with lust. A particular pass over your clit sends your eyes rolling backwards.

He pulls you to him and you are completely submitting to him as your lips lock, relaxing in his grip. He pulls away just slightly so that he can watch your face. Your eyes meet and you swear in that moment you feel a spark. A spark other than a drunken hookup.

"Ok, love, are you ready? Think you can do it one more time for me?" His caring tone brings you back down to earth as you find yourself getting lost in the feeling of everything.

His thrusts become sloppy and you clench around him. His thumb brushes over your bundle of nerves a few more times before you are coming undone with him following you. You scream his name and claw at his biceps. The both of you ride out your highs until the air settles and you are both a panting mess.

.....

"So," he pauses, "about that tattoo?" Jacob chuckles as he lifts your chin to kiss you.

............

Part 3

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